#MAYBE them being at each other’s throats isn’t the only option for billy to get close

[rigginsstreet]

Not to be sad on main but like if in season 2 timeline after the fight at the Byers steve planned this whole scenario to publicly humiliate billy and get back at him and finish their rivalry once and for all

But once it’s been executed billy doesn’t look angry and embarrassed like Steve was expecting. He just looks…really sad. And still embarrassed but not in any way steve can enjoy. He looks scared. And what Steve doesn’t know is billy had gotten into a real bad fight with neil earlier that day that already left him shaken and downtrodden so this hit him at the absolute worst time and there’s no glory in it for steve when he sees billy sneaking off to the bathroom or his car or wherever. Is pretty sure he saw tears sun the guys eyes and Steve thinks he SHOULDNT feel sympathy for him after what he did to his face. Fuck that guy. But it doesn’t stop this remorse eating away at his chest, pulling him in billys direction to check on him

[looooooooomis]

F I N A L  G I R L  |  O N E

You were his final girl.  And there was no chance in hell that anyone or anything was going to mess that up.

p a r t   o n e  |  c o r n   m a z e

masterlist here 

pairing: Billy Loomis x f!reader  word count: 4.3k warnings: implied/referenced cheating, swearing (obv), angst, drinking, fluff, pending smut + mentions of smut. as mentioned, part 2 will be allllllllll the smut x

You were going to kill Randy.

In fact, as the five of you crossed the threshold into the corn maze, you thought of the various ways you could do it without it coming back to you. You could strangle him with the tape of one of his precious Jamie Lee Curtis flicks, you could push an entire shelving unit of said movies on him during one of his shifts, hell, you could just lure him over to your house with the promise of sex before ultimately throwing him out your window. Any of the above sounded good to you tonight because the bastard was running late. Which meant that you were currently fifth wheeling on what was supposed to be a slightly boozy corn maze with your friends. Only now it was a slightly boozy corn maze with yourself and two loved up couples as you all impatiently waited for the idiot to arrive.

Yeah, you were definitely going to kill Randy.

You and Randy were friends, had been for years, and you were always there for each other when it came to these types of activities. Nobody liked being a fifth wheel but at least with two single people in your little gaggle of friends, it made things easier. You were happy as a clam being single, you preferred it in many ways if you were being honest, but at least with Randy around, you could ignore the weight of his stare.

Billy’s stare.

His brown eyes were on you constantly. You could feel them on your skin, feel them raking over every inch of you as though he was trying to soak you in from afar. His stare had a weight to it, you found. No matter how far away he was or where you two were – be it at school or hanging out or even in a goddamn corn maze – you felt him all over you.

At least with Randy around, it was easy to ignore. The two of you could joke around and escape the couples long enough to focus on anything else but the weight of Billy’s stare. But tonight, it was impossible to ignore, and you hated Randy in that moment for unknowingly leaving you with the one man you hadn’t been able to get out of your head for the better part of three years.

You hated Billy more, though, for making you feel as though every inch of your skin was on fire. For making you feel this level of guilt each and every time you hung around with Sid. Sid was one of your best friends, as was Tatum, which only made this entire situation so much worse.

“You think they’ll kick us out if they find out we’re loaded?” Stu asked with a quiet chuckle, glancing behind them for effect as though he was being tailed by the owners of the farm.

Tatum smacked his chest. “Maybe if you said it a little louder, Shit for Brains.”

Stu giggled again and slipped his hand into his jacket before pulling out a mickey of cheap vodka wrapped haphazardly in a brown paper bag. “Then I guess they’d be really mad at this.”

Tatum opened her mouth to tell him off but seeing it as your only saving grace, you reached across the divide and plucked it out of his hands to take a big sip. The vodka burned all the way down your throat, and you could feel all eyes on you as you licked the remainder of it from your lips and bottled it back up before handing it back to Stu. “You’re a saint, Stu.”

“Damn, Y/N,” Tatum laughed, “I can’t even be mad at that.”

Stu was smirking across at you, knowing exactly why you were choosing the bottle tonight which only made you feel worse than you did. Of course he knew. Where there was a Billy, there was a Stu. The pair didn’t have secrets between them much to your chagrin which only made nights like this all the more awkward.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Sid asked, sweet as ever.

Your stomach twisted in your gut at the genuine concern radiating off of Sid’s features and your heart fell into your stomach when you watched her lovingly place her head on Billy’s shoulder. Where the fuck was Randy?

“All good, Sid,” you smacked on a breezy grin and shot her what you only hoped was a convincing wink. “I haven’t done a corn maze since I was a kid, just preparing myself is all.”

Tatum leaned into Stu’s lean torso and frowned. “Why? You scared?”

“Nah, she’s not scared,” Stu hummed, grinning across at you with a gleam in his eye. “On edge, maybe. Why so jittery, girl?”

You rolled your eyes and flipped him the bird just as Billy spoke up. “She’s not jittery, pencil dick,” his velvety voice was closer than you’d expected and when you saw him reach for the bottle in Stu’s pocket to take a rather big gulp himself, you swallowed hard. “She’s just getting this party started.”

You held his stare for a moment, feeling your entire body light up like a switchboard, before the familiar voice of Randy rang out. Breathlessly, he waved you all down and grinned. “What’s this I hear about a party?”

Tatum rolled her eyes and hugged her jacket closer to her body. “About time you got here, dick, it’s fucking freezing out here.”

“I know a way we can warm up,” Stu teased as he leaned down to nibble at her neck.

Despite your mood, you found yourself smiling across at the pair. They were a good match and you could tell that Stu genuinely made Tatum happy. Just as Billy made Sid happy. Your smile fell at the thought.

Randy’s eyes circled around your group of friends briefly before he threw an arm around your unsuspecting shoulders. “What did I miss?”

“The usual,” you chimed in, smiling across at him. “Tatum and Stu sucking face, Billy and Sid cuddling up and me drinking my weight in cheap beer from Stu’s dad’s mini fridge in the garage.”

Randy grinned. “I chugged a couple beers before I left the video store, so good to know we’re all on the same level.”

Your chest was already starting to feel lighter now that Randy was around. Granted, Billy’s eyes hadn’t left yours for a second since Randy slung his arm around you, but that was to be expected. At least you had Randy here now. With that kind of distraction, you’d be just fine.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” Billy suggested, running a hand through his unruly mop of brown hair. When everyone’s eyes were on him, you could have sworn he gave you a little smirk before shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “We should split up.”

“Fuck that,” Tatum laughed, “no chance in hell.”

“Yeah,” Sid agreed quietly, “I don’t know.”

“That’s literally what they tell you not to do in scary movies,” you chuckled. “When everyone splits up, trouble starts.”

Sid shivered and leaned into Billy’s chest. “Yeah, Billy, I don’t know. I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

“Oh, come on,” he was grinning excitedly now, looking between Stu and Randy for backup. “It’ll be like the movies. Dumb teenagers wander into a corn maze and split up for the sake of the plot. Halloween’s tomorrow - why the hell not, right?”

A slow grin began to pull on Stu’s face as he listened to Billy. There was a mutual understanding between the two men in that instance and if you blinked for just a second longer, you would have missed it.

It made you nervous.

“Dumb teens wander into a corn maze on the night before Halloween,” Randy repeated, “you know what, I like it. I’m in.”

You snapped your neck up to look at him. “What the hell happened to the Do’s and Don’ts of a horror movie? This is easily number one: Don’t split up.”

But Randy only shrugged. “I’m still a virgin, I’m safe.”  

“How about you three idiots stick together,” Tatum gestured to the boys, “and the three of us stick together. Whoever makes it out first gets a prize.”

You and Sid were nodding along to her words, but Stu simply pulled her in for a quick kiss and laughed. “Or we all split up and see where the night takes us.”

“I’m not Lewis and Clark, Stu,” you grumbled, “I had every intention of letting Randy and Sid lead us out of here alive while the rest of us idiots followed.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Billy smirked across at you, “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Sid seemed to still be unsure of the entire situation as she mulled over the suggestion. “Y/N is right, what if people get left behind?”

“It’s corn, not the berlin wall,” Stu pointed out incredulously. “Fucking walk through the stacks until you find an exit if you get too lost.” As if on cue, Stu’s eyes lit up as he noticed one particular bend of the maze that held six different options. With a burst of laughter, he took off running towards it and pointed to his newfound discovery. “If this isn’t fate, I don’t know what is.”

You, Sid, and Tatum begrudgingly followed the boys to where Stu now stood giddily beaming across at everyone. “This is a stupid fucking idea,” Tatum grumbled as she took her place in the row beside her boyfriend. “We only brought one flashlight, how do you idiots plan on seeing the route?”

“Here,” Billy gently tossed the flashlight to Tatum and shrugged. “Moon is bright enough for me.”

With another roll of her eyes Tatum flicked the flashlight on and scowled across at her route. “Girls, if you see a flashlight, come to me.”

Stu laughed. “What about me?”

“You lost that right when you agreed to this stupid idea,” she groused. “You’re on your own.”

Grinning – and probably much drunker than he gave himself credit for – Stu rubbed his hands together and began counting down from three.

“You okay to do this, Sid?” You found yourself asking. Her mother had only died a few months prior and the idea of the poor girl meandering around alone in a cornfield sounded barbaric considering what she’d just been through.

“I’m fine,” Sid vowed, “I’ll see you guys soon.”

“It’s okay, Sid,” Randy muttered. “You’re safe, I promise.”

By the time Stu reached one, you took a hesitant step forward and embraced the darkness that surrounded you once you delved further and further down your path. You could hear the footsteps and crunches of the stacks around you as your friends eventually all split up to take their own trail and you swore that you heard Randy bump into Sid a few minutes in, putting you slightly at ease to know she wasn’t going through the maze alone. But, as time went on and you continued to circle the gigantic moonlight maze by yourself, your nerves began to eat away at you.

You weren’t one to scare easy but there was something about being on your own in the middle of a corn maze that was eerily off-putting. You’d seen Children of the Corn one too many times to feel at ease right now and the fact you could only see a few feet in front of you at any given time wasn’t helping one iota.

Hugging your denim jacket tighter around your body, you turned left and were met with a dead end. Groaning, you threw your head back in defeat and turned on your heel to retrace your steps but stopped when you heard a loud snap come from the wall of tall corn stacks before you. Swallowing hard, you narrowed your eyes in an attempt to see through the wall of decaying crop, but it was to no avail.

You couldn’t see a damned thing.

Another snap of a corn stock echoed out before you, making your skin crawl. Why the fuck had you agreed to splitting up? This is exactly how every horror movie you’d ever seen started and sure enough, here you were. About to be killed by a child of the corn on the eve of your favourite holiday.

Another snap.

And then, just as you were prepared to run for your life, a husky raccoon came bounding out of the thick hedge with a mouthful of hard corn. Your scream caught in your throat as you jumped back from the wild animal but, before you could think of bounding away, your back connected into someone’s chest.

With a high-pitched yelp, you turned only to be met with Billy’s wide brown eyes watching your every move. “Hey,” he cooed, reaching across to steady you. “You okay?”

That familiar cologne of his hit you like a tonne of bricks and for just a second, you allowed yourself to get lost in it. You knew that smell well. You couldn’t count how many times you’d woken up to that smell all over your pillows and sheets, wafting all over your bedroom like a slow mist that never quite subsided. Swallowing hard, you blinked out of your reverie and took an instinctual step back. “I’m fine,” you breathed out, “a racoon just scared me, is all.”

He glanced over your shoulder briefly before those brown pools soaked you in yet again. “You sure you’re okay?” He asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “You’ve barely said a word to me all week.”

You offered him a polite smile. “I’m fine, Billy. Just been a busy week. With swimming practice and—”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he muttered, voice strained. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Billy,” you sighed, pinching your brow, “I’m not doing this here. We can’t.”

His brows pulled together and a pained look crossed over his handsome features. “I meant what I said,” he rasped out. “You’re my girl, Y/N.”

“No, see that’s bullshit, Billy,” you bit back, “Sid is your girl. I’m just an easy lay. That’s all I’ve been for the last six months and I can’t do it anymore. I won’t.”

“You can’t believe that,” he stepped towards you and visibly flinched when you stepped back. “Sure, Sid’s a good girl but it’s compli—”

“Complicated,” you choked, “yeah, you’ve mentioned that a few hundred times in the last six months, Billy. And you’re right. It is complicated because me and you are making it complicated. For god’s sake, she’s one of my best friends, Billy. I’m fucking one of my best friends’ boyfriends. Do you get how fucked up that is?”

“Me and Sid are complicated,” he reiterated, ignoring your little tirade entirely. “But me and you, sweetheart, we work. We’ve always worked. You’re it for me. You’re my final girl.”

You shook your head and grabbed his wrist, yanking him closer to you to avoid having one of your friends creep up on the two of you and hear him rambling on. “Jesus, scream it a little louder, moron,” you growled, pulling him into the corner of the maze where the racoon had just jumped out of. “What is wrong with you? Do you want one of them to hear you?”

“I don’t care,” he admitted, “I miss you. I miss feeling you squirm against me when we watch a scary movie. I miss smelling you all over me the next morning. My fucking pillow smells like your shampoo and the fact that you haven’t so much as said a word to me this week is killing me, Y/N.”  

Looking over his shoulder to ensure none of your friends were coming, you nearly hissed as you pulled him further into the thick wall of corn stocks. The tall stacks towered over the two of you and shielded you away from any prying eyes.

“One week, Billy. It’s been one week and it’s hurting you? Try being in love with someone for three fucking years and watching them fall in love with someone else. And then, when he can’t get his whistle wet with his girlfriend, he ends up in your bed.” You ground your teeth together in an effort to control the burst of emotion pounding in your chest. “That is the shit that hurts, Billy. I wasn’t good enough to be your girlfriend, but I was easy enough for you to sleep with and I was so enamoured with you that I was willing to overlook the fact I’m hurting Sid each and every time we do it. I won’t do it anymore.”

The moon managed to seep in through a barren patch of the maze wall and struck Billy in such a way that you lost your breath. Those brown eyes you’d fallen in love with all those years back were glued to your face. He’d always had this air of intensity about him but, right now, looking at the long shadows cast against his face from the illumination of the moon, that intensity had all but dissipated. You’d never seen Billy look more beautiful in your life.

The silence that followed your words was thick and tense, but those damn eyes never left your face. Not even for a second. Slowly, Billy leaned in and, in the softest voice you’d ever heard him speak, he managed to break your heart all over again. “You love me?”

“Oh, shut-up,” you snarled, “like you didn’t know.”

“How the fuck would I have known that?” he whispered, taking a step closer to you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you?” You snapped. “Billy, you have a girlfriend. I’m already fucking you, what am I going to do? Confess all of this in between sucking your dick and packing up before Sidney catches wind of us?”

“Don’t cheapen it,” he cautioned, “not when it comes to us.”

“There is no ‘us’, Billy!” You reminded him. “There is a you and there is a Sidney. Then there is me.”

“Fuck Sidney,” he snarled through gritted teeth. “And don’t act like it’s only been sex between us.”

You snorted. “Maybe the odd movie, sure.”

Anger flickered across his face as he took another step closer, backing you into a particularly sturdy corn stock. This was a side of Billy you rarely saw, this unhinged almost animalistic side that came out when his emotions got too overwhelming. You’d seen this look only once before. It was few weeks into your sneaky little affair when Billy had snuck in through your bedroom window with red, bloodshot eyes and bleeding knuckles. It was the night his mother had left, and he’d just had lost a one-sided fight with the brick wall of his house.

“You were there for me when nobody else was,” he leaned his forehead against yours and you watched the muscle in his cheek clench several times over as he chewed on his words. “When my mother left, you were the one that was there for me. Not Sidney, not my father – you.” You felt his hands trail up your jean-clad hips before guiding your hips towards the thick corn stock behind you. You should have pushed him away, stuck to your guns, and ran off to find the rest of your friends. But, you couldn’t. Not with Billy looking at you the way he was.

“Billy,” you tried, but there was no conviction behind it. “I meant what I said.”

“Which part?” He asked. “When you said you loved me or when you said you couldn’t do this anymore.”  

“Both,” you told him. “Sidney’s a good friend and—”

A growl escaped his throat as he shut his eyes, but he never stepped away. With his forehead still leaning against yours, it was as though he was afraid to break contact in fear of losing you all over again. “Can we not talk about Sid for one goddamn second?” He took a few even breaths before those brown eyes opened back up, capturing your gaze instantly. “I love you.”

“Don’t,” you warned him. This time it was your turn to shut your eyes as the pain of hearing those three little words sliced you from stem to stern. “That’s not fair, Billy.”

“What? You don’t believe me?” You felt his hands slither up the side of your waist and up the length of your body until they cradled your face. “Look at me.”

“No,” you griped, “to both of your questions. Don’t say shit you don’t mean, not when it comes to that. It’s cruel.”

His calloused thumb danced across the apple of your cheek. “Look at me,” he demanded, barely above a whisper. “Sweetheart, look at me.” Frowning, you opened your eyes but remained silent. Bumping your nose with his, Billy pushed your hair back and away from your face and shook his head. “I fucking love you.”

“You’re with Sidney,” you reminded him, sounding like a broken record. “If you loved me, we wouldn’t be hiding in the middle of a goddamn corn maze while our friends blindly stumble around looking for the exit.”

“Stu knows,” he admitted. “And when it’s a good time, so will everyone else.”

“Colour me shocked,” you rolled your eyes. “Stu knows everything.”

“You think I don’t want to parade you all over town?” Billy questioned. “I get so heated when I see Randy or any of those goons on the football team flirt with you. I want you every second of the day.”

You swallowed hard. “Then please, Billy, just be honest with me. Tell me why things are so fucking complicated with Sid? I get break-ups are hard but cheating on her isn’t the answer.”

Billy was truly torn as he took in the desperation in your eyes. Things with Sid were complicated but not in the way you thought they were. There were no feelings involved with Sid, at least not the romantic kind, but there was no chance in hell he was divulging his plans with Sidney. Not with you. He couldn’t stomach the idea of losing you knowing full-well you’d try and sway him on it. Or worse. What if you went to the police about it? What if you tried to stop him? No. He wasn’t getting you involved. You were the one person in his life who hadn’t let him down and he was hell-bent on doing the same for you.

The less you knew, the better.

“Just give me some time, alright?” He pleaded, grabbing your hands to ghost his lips across your knuckles. “She’s still dealing with the loss of her mother. I can’t spring a break-up on her, too. Not yet. But soon,” he kissed your hand, “I promise.”

“I don’t want to hurt her any more than we already have, Billy,” you told him, “we could end this here and now and then when you do break-up, we can continue whatever the hell this is. But we shouldn’t d—”

Before you could say another word, he leaned forward and captured your lips in a bruising kiss. Everything about this man was electric and despite everything –  the guilt, the secrets, all of it – the way his lips seemed to mould against yours so perfectly, stopped you dead in your tracks. Placing sloppy kisses down from your mouth and along your jaw, Billy nipped at your ear. “I really do fucking love you.”

You leaned into the kiss and tangled your fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he continued his assault down your jaw towards your neck where he nipped and sucked at the sensitive flesh. “You give me a fucking hickey and you’re dead,” you chastised breathlessly. When he responded with a gentle bite, you gave his hair another gentle tug. “I mean it, Loomis.”

Pulling back from your neck, you were met with one of Billy’s rare but genuine grins. He was all teeth as he leaned his forehead against yours again, scraping his thumbnail gently across your cheek as he fought to catch his breath. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

“Your girlfriend would beg to differ, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Groaning quietly at the mess you and Billy had created for yourselves, you reached up and pushed a strand of his brown hair back and away from his face. “We should go,” you told him. “Before anyone besides Stu finds us.”

Giving you one final peck, he nodded in agreement and pushed a few stocks aside for you to escape from. Before you stepped out of the covering, however, Billy reached for your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I promise, Y/N, everything is going to work out for us.”

Giving him a small, resigned smile, you leaned in and gave him a quick, chaste kiss. “I’ll leave my bedroom window open tonight,” you told him. “Do what you will with that information.”

Billy watched you disappear back into the maze with a shit-eating grin on his face. God, he was in deep with you. Too deep, perhaps, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not yet, at least. For now, he had you back and he had no intention of letting you go again.

part two HERE

[twinklelilstarkey]

Stopping you - Michael Gray [Part 3]

Words: 3.7k+

Warnings: Cursing. Smoking. Drinking Alcohol. Slight mentions of smut.

Prologue   Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4

After a long day at work, all you can think about is how good alcohol sounds right about now.

The men outside of your door are already drunk and dancing around in the pub. Not that you cared, working with singing men and loud footsteps is something you’re grown used to.

You leave your things over your desk and grab your keys. As you walked out of your office, you were welcomed by the smell of tobacco and whiskey, something that must be in engraved in the Garrison walls by now.

“Y/N!” A drunken man screams with his arms in the air, big smile and with great enthusiasm in his face. “How are you, my love?”

“I’m doing good. What about you, dear?” You ask with not even half of his enthusiasm, but with a small smile.

“Oh, you know, same old. My wife hates me still, which is unfortunate” He says, and you chuckle at his indifference towards the situation.

“You’ll eventually get her love again, I’m sure of it” You tell him, in hopes that that it would be enough to keep his cheery-self dancing around and not crying against the walls.

“I sure will”

You walk away from the man as the music continues to control the rhythm in the room, and as you get close enough to the bar’s counter, Billy looks over at you.

“The usual or something stronger?” He asks and you smile at him.

“The usual”

The strong option is your perfect drink when you haven’t been your best. Maybe work is being a bigger pain the ass or, even, Tommy got himself a new rival. Works for both of them, the only difference between them is how many cups you down on each night.

As Billy puts down, in front of you, a glass cup with whiskey, you’re quick to send him a grin as a thank you.

You sip your black-tea-coloured drink and almost sigh in content as the flavour extends from the tip of your tongue to the back and how it leaves its burning trail down your throat.

“Never thought you were the whiskey type of woman” Someone says beside you and you put your drink down when recognizing the voice.

“Usually happens when you don’t really know someone”

Michael bites the inside of his cheek at your words and looks down at the dark brown counter, silent.

You don’t look at him. Your hands play with the cold cup, fingers moving and creating droplets of water, which naturally drip down into the old wood.

Your eyes, then, travel the whole room, from the singer in the small stage to the drunk men that happily singed along, ignoring that they’re completely off tune.

Michael, on the other hand, when noticing that you aren’t looking at him, looks straight at you. Admiring your shiny hair that moves as you move to stare at someone else. Your suit, which shows to have no creases whatsoever and hugged your figure in all the right places. Your hands now decorated with golden pieces of jewellery just like his mother would, sometimes, wear.

The one thing Michael couldn’t take a good look at was your face. The one he now knows that is decorated with light make-up, making your infinite and natural beauty stand out to anyone who would cross paths with you.

“Are you planning on telling me why you’re here or do you want to continue to stare at me in silence?” You ask when turning back to your drink, making Michael get a good sight at your side profile.

“I wanted a drink” He answers, and you sigh.

“Not here at the Garrison” You correct, “Even though I do believe that this place doesn’t meet your American influenced standards” You say, adding the last words purely just to annoy him, “I meant why you’re sitting next to me”

Michael stands quiet, as he’s quite taken aback as he didn’t expect such spiteful words come out of your mouth.

“No special reason” He says, and you scoff, “You’re just the only person I know in this pub” He adds, making you almost roll your eyes.

“That usually happens to the ones that don’t stay in touch, you know?” You say, now looking up at him, “These people have been regulars for some time. Friends with the Peaky Blinders, friendly people”

Michael’s eyes stay glued on yours as you look over at him. Your eyes are filled with arrogance and disinterest, but they still made him hold on to his breath as they met with his.

Your words, though, were hurtful, and they got a reaction from him.

“You know it wasn’t my choice to leave for America” He says, grabbing his drink, which had been put down by Billy a few seconds ago as you talked.

“No. But it was your choice to leave us”

Michael is silent once more.

Confusion filled the man’s mind as you said those words, they didn’t make sense to him, especially after you just agreed on it not being his choice to leave the country.

Until they did.

He had left, physically, months before he really left. He was still a part of your and his mom’s life after getting on that boat. And it all ended because he-

It doesn’t matter anymore, now, does it?. Michael thought.

The truth tends to hurt more than it should, so might as well not speak of it.

“I’m happy to see that you’ve changed” Michael says, ignoring what you had said, sipping his whiskey.

You stay silent and quickly look over at the band, which was starting a new song.

“You sound and look more mature” He continues, “It seems as if you grew stronger”

“Can’t say the same about you” You say in almost a whisper without looking at him and Michael lets your words register in his mind before thinking of an answer.

Your finger circles the rim of your cup as you try to ignore the man’s presence and Michael decides to stay quiet, not wanting to ruin his opportunity to talk to you even further.

You sip your whiskey and immediately hate that you can’t even enjoy it as much as you wanted. Your mind is too occupied with Michael to even concentrate in the flavour of the drink.

A hand touches your back, making you snap back to reality, and you turn slightly to see the owner of the hand (and whether or not you need to chop it off him). You relax once your eyes meet Finn’s.

“Well, look if it isn’t the one who has been avoiding me for a whole week” You say with a smile, making Finn smile back at you.

“I haven’t been avoiding you” He says before pulling you into a small and tight hug.

The smell of tobacco hits you as your body collides with Finn’s chest and you wrap your arms around him to hug him back.

Billy is quick to run over to you and serve a drink to the youngest Shelby brother and you smile at Finn’s appearance once pulling away.

“You look like a mess” You comment at him and he rolls his eyes.

“No surprise there, Tommy has been giving the weirdest of orders lately” He says before downing his whole drink in one go, cringing slightly at the burning sensation and at the sour taste.

Michael’s eyes stay on his cousin as you smile brightly at him and he studies the situation silently. He can’t help but think about how this is, surely, a friendship he did not expect to see when coming back home.

Finn, the one guy that liked to suck petrol off people’s cars for fun, is now friends with a girl, who liked to run through flower fields and ride horses for a living. Now that’s a shocker.

Michael clenches his jaw once his cousin looks at him and he looks down at his drink, trying to hear your conversation as a way to relax his mind and not overthink about the whole situation.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” You ask Finn, catching the younger boy’s attention again.

“Am I being recruited to lay in bed the whole day?” He asks with a teasing smirk.

“You can always name a better idea to pass time”

“I sure know my ways” He jokes, and you hit his shoulder while dramatically gasping and biting your smile in.

Michael has had enough the moment he heard Finn’s words. His heart pumps in his chest as he grabs his cup and downs his drink in a swig.

He just wants to get out of there.

He quickly throws money at the counter and turns away from it, finally making his way out of the old Pub.

Finn glares at Michael’s back as he opens the door abruptly and you smile at the drunken men trying to pull you in for a group dance.

Your best friend looks away from Michael, who now is making his way to his car, and looks down at your laughing state, twirling while holding an older man’s hand. Finn smiles at you and you continue to laugh with the man as he makes his own twirl while holding your hand.

(…)

Finn’s ways to have fun can vary on who he’s hanging out with.

When he’s with you, in your days off, it can start with lying in bed and talk about life, and end with riding some of Tommy’s horses through some fields - which surprisingly always ends up with having races between you two.

You win, most of the time, and Finn easily gets done with riding whenever you do.

One day you tried to bake with him in Polly’s kitchen, just to try and do new things. And let’s just say that in a space of 15 minutes, Finn was able to turn the soft batter into pure cement.

‘Never again’, you told him.

At night, after dinner, your plans are a whole different story.

Pubs are simply the only way you two seem to know how to have fun, and the only think that varies in those nights, are the drinks and their quantities. Literally.

“Stop it!” You say loudly while smiling at Finn, who threw another handful of dry leaves at you.

“Or what?” He teases.

“Mud will find its way into your pockets really quick” You say with a serious expression and Finn snaps his head to you, shaking his head, “Oh yes, in your newly bought suit”

“You’re no fun” He says while leaning his head back on the grass.

The two of you lay on the grass of the field in silence, staring at the white clouds that covered most of the sky.

The horses aren’t far from you two, eating the fresh green grass happily while minding their own business.

“How have you been lately?” Finn asks, breaking the silence. “About, you know, Michael coming back”

“Not that bad” You say in a whisper, closing your eyes as the sun peeks from the clouds, warming your exposed skin.

“Are you sure?”

You don’t answer him this time, making Finn move his head to the side and look up at you. He stares at your face, which already has its natural frown engraved into it, and expects a reaction. Which did not seem to appear.

It’s like you didn’t even hear him. But he knows you did.

“I haven’t met his fiancé yet” He continues, and you scoff, making him smirk.

“You aren’t missing much”

Finn’s smirk curves into a full-grown smile and he looks back at the sky, bright eyes burning at the brightness.

“What’s the worst thing about her?” He asks, actually curious about the blonde American he has heard so much of.

“Attitude” You answer quickly, without even a second thought.

“That bad, uh?”

You smile at his curiosity and open your eyes slightly, squinting at the light.

“No, Finn. She’s not your type” You say in a reprehensive tone, and he chuckles with you, punching your leg lightly. “But seriously, this time. She isn’t that special”

“Ooh” He says in a low voice and a teasing tone, “You hate her”

“I wouldn’t say ‘hate’” You comment, “Just strongly dislike” You add while laughing in between words, making Finn shake his head in disbelief.

He sighs loudly and holds himself up on his arms before laying his head on your thighs.

“I wish I was on that family meeting” He says, making you grin and lay your hand on his head.

Your fingers play with his short hair while deep in thought, imagining Gina’s face and remembering how much she annoyed you the other day.

“You would’ve made it more entertaining, to be honest” You say and Finn dramatically gasps.

“I knew that you would eventually miss me in meetings. Just try to tell that to Tommy so I can finally be accepted back in”

You laugh loudly at him and he smiles at the sound of your laughter.

(…)

Michael pushes the Garrison’s doors open while walking in and that was enough to catch some people’s attention. His face is well known, even to the ones that are not too familiar of the Peaky Blinders, or even Birmingham as a whole.

His eyes travel through the people around the pub and they quickly land on you.

He immediately notices by your movements that you’re drunk out of your mind as you danced with older men and women at the loud live music and smiled up at them.

His eyes drift away from you and as he reaches the counter, he orders a drink to Billy, who noticed his presence once he came in.

As the man behind the counter starts to serve his drink, Michael looks over his shoulder to check and see if he hasn’t lost you in the crowd just yet.

He then took notice of the dress that you’re wearing.

Memories crashed into his mind like waves into rocks. It’s the same dress that you wore in Tommy and Grace’s wedding.

It’s black, which was unusual to your style at the time, but still flowy. It moves with you and with the wind, easily catching people’s attention when you danced around them.

The day of the wedding was definitely one of his favourite memories of you.

He remembers how the two of you sat next to each other during the religious ceremony that connected Grace and Thomas to each other.

And how you two silently imagined how that would be the two of you in some years.

The way you leaned your head on his shoulder and pulled his hand into your lap.

It was all engraved in his mind. 

If he had the choice, he would forget all of the days that you two shared together. Before all that happened, those memories were what calmed Michael down and brought him back to the sweeter side of reality. But now, they only work as a torture mechanism for his brain.

He doesn’t want to remember the old times, especially when his fiancé is just a few streets away from this pub, sleeping, and completely unaware that he isn’t next to her in bed.

But his mind likes to play tricks.

The images of all the hugs and soft kisses from that day replayed on his head. Even what had happened after the ceremony, in one of the storage rooms.

Your soft gasps and your delicate touch replayed as if it was no longer a memory, but reality. The way his hands touched the soft skin of your hips and your thighs, while you moaned softly into his ear, trying to keep quiet.

It was all so vivid that it felt like it happened just the day before.

And those were only memories of one good day.

Michael has millions of memories of the two of you.

And, unfortunately, only few were bad. 

As he stares into the ground, trying to shake away his thoughts, you notice him. A smile grew in your face immediately.

You down your drink and decide to walk over to him, stumbling over some things on your way to him. Some men around you laugh at how you almost lose your balance and fall to the ground a few times, but you ignore them.

“Look if it isn’t the American wannabe” You say loudly when you reach his side and Michael looks up from the floor at you.

“Already with the insults?” He asks and you shrug.

“It’s just a reflex by now” You comment making him nod and lift his eyebrows in annoyance. “Where’s your wife?”

“My fiancée” He corrects but you don’t care enough to acknowledge it, “is at the hotel”

You frown slightly.

“Sad. We could all have fun together”

Michael ignores your comment and you lean in closer to him.

“Did you ever love me?” You lean over to the counter and lay your head on your fist as you waited for an answer, in which you never got. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

Your voice is a complete giveaway of your intoxication. That, and the small hiccups between words.

Michael doesn’t answer, just continues to stare at his drink.

“You always said you did” You say before looking down at the rings on your hands. “Must’ve been a lie”

Michael bites the inside of his cheek as he fights to stay quiet, but he decides not to.

“It wasn’t a lie”

“That’s what a liar would say” You exclaim proudly, and he rolls his eyes at your immaturity, mostly caused by the large amount of gin and whiskey you’ve consumed.

If you had to be honest, alcohol is obviously what is making you want to talk to Michael in the first place, even if it’s just to insult him. You wouldn’t make your sober feet move to go talk to him, and that was even obvious to Michael, who still saw this as improvement.

Out of frustration, Michael takes a cigarette out of its metal box and lights it in a quick movement. He inhales and his lungs fill with the familiar smoke, like any other day. But it feels different.

Maybe it’s because he’s not used to smoking in this particular pub after these 2 years, or maybe it’s just your presence next to his.

At least that’s he likes to believe.

The nicotine isn’t relaxing him as it usually did. So may God help him through the night.

You look over your shoulder at Michael and slightly turn over to stand in front of the man, between him and the counter. Your eyes analyse his face and your eyes meet for a slight second.

“You have an eyelash-” You say while extending your hand over Michael’s face, reaching for his face, swiping your thumb over the eyelash that has fallen onto his cheek.

Michael doesn’t flinch at your touch or even slightly move away; he lets you touch him. You blow the small hair out of your finger and your eyes drift over to his, once more.

“You didn’t change at all” You say with a slight frown on your face.

“That’s normal. Two years isn’t that long” He answers back.

You scoff at his words while fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Speak for yourself” You whisper, and Michael almost doesn’t hear it. “Anyways, you need to start bringing your wife out more times. I’m interested in knowing her better”

“She’s not my wife” He corrects you once more, “And that is not happening”

“Why?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Pretty obvious, if you ask me”

You ignore him and look around the bar, bored out of your mind.

“I still don’t know what you see in her” You say while confidently grabbing Michael’s drink from the counter and sipping it.

“Many things” He answers dryly.

“So many that you can’t even name one?” You tease and Michael looks away from you. “Come on, Miss America must have at least one good thing about her”

He shakes his head before looking back at you

“Why do you care so much?”

“Just curious” You say while shrugging, “She was a big surprise to all of us. It wouldn’t hurt to know a little more about her”

“We can talk whenever you’re sober”

“Ooh, you’re a big responsible man, now” You say with an annoyed tone, “Damn, you can be annoying”

“That insult is new” He teases further.

He is definitely the most infuriating person you’ve ever met. Maybe he has changed after all.

“You are probably the person I hate the most in the world, now that I think about it” You say, ignoring his words and drunkenly smiling at him.

You have to annoy him as much as you can, it’s only fair if the two of you suffer.

Michael clenches his jaw and you continue to smile at him. The smile is more than fake, and that can be seen from a mile away.

“Did I hit a nerve?” You ask him, “If so, I’m sure that you can always walk out of here to your wife’s arms, like the loyal husband that you are”

Oh, two can play at that game; Michael thought.

“You’re sounding a little obsessed” He says with a fake smile as well, not wanting to correct you again.

“Really?” You ask with a scoff, “Maybe we can start a competition on who’s more obsessed, then. Since, well, you know, it’s the second day you come in this pub and stare at me, while I’m quietly minding my own business”

Michael stays silent and you lean closer to him.

“Go back to your wife, Michael. I’m sure you’re more welcomed there, anyways” You say, “Oh, and isn’t she supposedly pregnant as well?”

“She isn’t”

“What a bummer”

You smile while leaning closer to Michael, who surprisingly hasn’t taken a step back yet, and your eyes move to stare down at his lips as a reflex. You stare back at his eyes to find them doing the same thing.

The alcohol pulls the two of you closer and your lips crash onto the corner of his lips.

It lasts 2 seconds and as you pull away slightly before Michael could make a scene, and to your surprise, he looks annoyed.

You pull back completely and down the rest of his drink, quickly walking away from the bar, over to the men that were already ready to dance again.

You smile proudly at you did and shout with the men in excitement as you restart the dance with them.

Tomorrow’s going to be fun.

- - - - - -

Taglist:  @ohhersheybars​ @woodland-mist​ @onlythechicagoway​ @soleil-dor​ @finn-shelbys-bulldog​ @oh-theres-a-woman​ @peakyxtommy​ @ms-reader​ @beautycinders​ @lovemissyhoneybee​ @graceedwards​ @jadesbabylon​ @marvelismylifffe @a-dorky-book-keeper @peakascum​ @shanetoo​ @hufflemendes​ @cherrytop02​ @http-cherries​ @burnitup​

[dastardlydandelion]

Billy having the bust appendix episode?

so i combined these into one thingy??

also the latter, uh, it's. like?? i played w ur prompt, dude, chose to focus more on the concept of "not lasting" w susan and max tho bc if i write neil for too long it'll inevitably turn into another murder fic.

ao3 link

content warnings: referenced/discussed abuse, brief suicidal ideation

“Day four of fever, fella. That’s no fun.” Susan sets the thermometer aside with a frown and brushes the back of her hand over his cheek.

Billy blinks slowly at the touch. It wasn’t that long ago that he would’ve pushed her away. He hasn’t exactly enjoyed having the Stomach Flu From Hell for the better half of the week, but he supposes if there was ever a time to get sick, it’s now. Because these past few days have been the last few days he’s ever going to get with Susan and Max. He can use being sick as an excuse to let them get close like this. He can let himself let them close without feeling defensive or embarrassed because after tonight, he’ll never see them again.

“I feel better,” he mumbles as she brushes his fringe back, pad of her thumb gingerly lingering over the nick in his brow. “Really, Sue, s’not as bad today.”

And it’s not. Today’s Wednesday and he’s been feeling shitty since Sunday night, sluggish and nauseous with a nagging stomachache. He managed not to puke up Sunday dinner until Monday morning, although he didn’t actually make it to the bathroom. Susan scrubbed it out of his bedroom carpet even though Billy told her to leave it. Max stayed home from school to keep him company, which really…genuinely meant a lot to Billy, considering skipping school meant sacrificing some of the little time remaining with her friends. And she did it to just to hang out with his sweaty, grouchy, probably contagious and definitely less sociable self.

His stomachache got worse throughout the day but he hadn’t said anything about it to anyone. Didn’t say anything on Tuesday either, even though by evening it hurt so fucking bad it was like there was an invisible knife carving into his guts, blade twisting so terribly the only thing that helped at all was curling into a fetal position. Billy was almost frightened, actually. He doesn’t believe he’s ever felt worse than the torture he went through Tuesday, not even at his father’s hands.

But he couldn’t say anything. Not with everything going on. He wouldn’t do anything to possibly compromise the plan. Couldn’t let himself do anything that could delay their escape. So he sucked it up and kept his mouth screwed shut, endured in silence.

The relentless agony of nonexistent knives twisting through his guts kept him up all night. Then very early this morning, just as the sunrise’s first rays began to lighten the sky, the pain subsided. Billy still feels uncomfortable and he’d probably hurl again if he got a whiff of goat cheese or canned sardines, but it doesn’t compare to the misery of last night.

“How about I put the kettle on? Ginger tea is good for stomach bugs.”

“Nah.”

“What about chamomile?”

“No.”

“Peppermint?”

“Stop, Sue. I don’t want tea.”

“Please. You’ve barely kept anything down all week and you’re sweating like a turkey at Christmas. You’ll feel even worse if you get dehydrated, Billy.”

Susan retracts her hand with a fretful noise in her throat and turns to the door. With a sudden spike of panic that she’s— she’s leaving —he frees an arm from the blanket and grabs her wrist. Susan jumps as though she’s touched a hot stove. Billy immediately lets go. He wasn’t thinking.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Susan, I just…”

Chewing her lip, she nods down at him. She carefully sits on the edge of his bed, one leg folding on the mattress, opposite foot still on the floor. She takes his face in her chilly hands and Billy heaves out a sigh.

“I wish things were different,” she murmurs. “If the, uh…if the p-place Max and I are going accepted boys your age, you’d be coming with us. I promise I’d take you with us if I could.”

The shelter doesn’t allow male children over age twelve, Susan had informed Billy the night she told him they were leaving. She’d said it apologetically, eyes sorrowful like the look she’s giving him right now. She’s said it like it scraped her throat on the way out, tragic and grave as though she were reading him his own obituary.

It was the oddest thing Billy couldn’t begin to comprehend. He wouldn’t go with them even if going with them was an option. And never had he ever expected it to be an option. He doesn’t understand why Susan is looking at him like that.

“I just grabbed you. I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”

Susan’s face twitches like he’s the one being weird, like it isn’t she who’s looking at him with all these things he never wanted from her.

“You didn’t hurt me, Billy, just startled me a bit. I’m as skittish as a doe and of course today is…it’s a big day.”

“…what time?”

Susan spares a glance to his door. Still shut. Neil’s getting ready for work and he wouldn’t dare enter Billy’s room right now anyway. Wouldn’t risk catching whatever Billy has. He’d sent Susan in the bathroom Monday after Billy had barely stumbled out, wan from the latest round of purging, in drill sergeant mode and demanding that Susan bleach every contaminated tile.

“Noon. I want to drive in the daylight. Max is staying home from school. I told your father she caught your bug.”

Billy raises a brow.

“She didn’t,” Susan clarifies. “But he didn’t question the excuse. She’s sleeping in, I think it’s best to let her sleep in. It’s a big day.”

“Big day,” Billy repeats quietly.

Susan’s hands are still on his face, gentle and cool. Billy feels hot. The past few days he’s felt too cold or too hot, no in between. He’s either burrowing under the blankets to ward off the icy chills or laying on the bathroom tile to ease the sensation of roasting in his skin.

“I’m going to make you some tea, okay? You don’t have to drink it, but I’d appreciate it if you did. Fluids are important, Billy.”

Susan slides her hands off and Billy wonders if perhaps that’s the last time she’ll ever touch him. She leaves his room. Quietly closes the door behind her. Billy rolls onto his side and wraps his arm around his stomach, wondering if he should’ve let her closer before. If he should’ve let Max closer too.

Maybe it’s better he didn’t. Maybe losing them would hurt more if he did. And it does hurt. Even when the minutes tick down to the time they will exchange their final goodbyes, he’ll never say it out loud, but it hurts. It’s going to gut him when they go.

But it’s good that they’re going. And it’s good that he’s not. Billy ensured early on that Susan knew never to act like his mother. And Susan never seemed particularly passionate about trying, maybe there was even some relief for her that Billy had shut down every feeble attempt, that she never had to claim him. Billy never asked for Max either. The responsibility of a little sister. The pressure of having to set a good example for her, more reasons for Neil to be pissed at him whenever he inexorably failed. Max thought he was cool when they were younger, then there was that really rough patch after the move, and now things are better.

Things are probably the best they’ve ever been between him and Susan, between him and Max, and he’s going to miss them. Billy wants them to leave. Billy wants to be left. But the separation, the severing, the knowledge that he will never see them again pounds his heart like brass knuckles. He’s never going to watch Susan take another spider outside in a tissue, humming her weird little singsong. He’s never going to have to groan and roll his eyes over being Max’s designated chauffeur to the arcade, the park, the monster movie matinee.

He’s going to be alone with Neil.

Susan brings Billy a ceramic mug of steaming tea. She feels his forehead and probes at the sides of his neck, humming in concern. He would never let her fawn over him without a fight on a normal day. He’s only receptive now because he knows they aren’t going to be in each other’s lives anymore. He doesn’t know what to do with the fact that he kind of likes the fawning, but maybe he wouldn’t— maybe he wouldn’t like it at all if she wasn’t leaving, maybe the leaving makes it special. Or maybe it’s easier to think of it that way than to wonder if it would’ve been better to have this kind of relationship all along.

Billy watches the steam rise from the mug. He doesn’t touch the tea. He’s exhausted and he finds himself drifting, dozing off…

When Billy blinks his eyes back open, he’s dismayed to find his stomach hurting again. It might actually be the stomachache that wakes him up. Either the stomachache or Max in the doorway, hand on the knob.

“Are you awake?”

“I am now.” Billy begins to push himself up on his elbows, pauses when his gut lurches.

So much for that plan.

He settles back, and rolls onto his side, tucking his knees up to his chest under the blanket. Some of the pain abates. This position is still the winner.

“Are you okay?” Max rests her hand on the mattress, cocking her head to the side. “Do you need the trash can again?”

“Nah.”

“Okay…My mom’s loading up the car.”

“Yeah?” Billy really hopes she isn’t here to ask him to help. If she does, he will, but just the idea of rolling out of bed sounds like a grandiose effort.

“Yeah. Can I hang out for a little bit?”

Something thick rises in his throat. “Sure thing, shitbird.”

Max climbs onto the bed and over Billy, jostling him enough to make him queasy. She sits at his back. He can’t see her but he feels her hand settle on his shoulder.

“Your room smells like gym socks and barf,” she remarks, scowl audible in her voice.

“When you catch this from me, your room’s gonna smell the same way,” he mutters. Only after the words have left his lips, does Billy really realize what he’s said.

Max’s bedroom here on Cherry Lane isn’t really her bedroom anymore. Susan’s putting her belongings in the car. The next time Max gets sick, maybe it won’t be in a bedroom of her own at all. Or it will be her bedroom in a house far away from here. It’ll be a room Billy will never go in and he’ll never have the opportunity to tease her.

“I’m kinda nervous about the shelter, Billy,” she admits, voice quiet and unsure. “I was nervous when we first moved to Hawkins too. But this is a different kind of nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Billy mutters. “You’re gonna be safer there than you are here.”

“Supposedly,” Max huffs. “You know Neil’s going to be pissed when he finds out. What if he comes after us?”

“I won’t let him,” Billy declares, meaning every word.

“Could you really stop him?”

Billy curls a little tighter in an effort to ease the pain spreading through his stomach. It’s beginning to be more than a nuisance but he’s doing his best not to be distracted. Max needs him right now. This is the last time he’ll ever be an older brother. That’s more important, that’s the thing he needs to devote his attention to. He never asked for the job and he hasn’t been exceptional at it, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try to soothe his soon to be ex-sister’s worries with her small hand shaking ever so slightly on his shoulder.

He cranes his neck back to meet her eye and flashes a winning grin he hopes looks less forced than it feels.

”Let’s put it this way, he’d have to kill me to get to you.”

Instead of being reassured, Max looks spooked.

“I really thought he was going to, you know. That night.”

Ah, that night. Billy knows which. He was feeling pretty ballsy, feeling strong and bold after a good workout and a couple of beers. When Neil got in his shit that night, for the very first time, Billy threw a punch.

He remembers thinking that things would go in his favor if he could just get Neil to the ground. That’s the last thing he remembers, actually. Thinking that. And maybe it really would’ve gone in his favor if he’d gotten Neil down. But he didn’t.

Billy doesn’t actually remember what happened. But it definitely wasn’t that.

“He wouldn’t really go that far, Max. Neil talks a big game, but I’m all he’s got and he knows it.”

Max doesn’t seem convinced in the least.

“I think that’s what made Mom decide we had to go,” she says quietly. “That night.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Billy says, tone sharp.

Max glowers, clearly disagreeing. Billy matches her stare.

“…I wonder if there will be other kids my age,” Max murmurs eventually, changing the subject.

Evidently neither of them want to argue their remaining time together away.

If there are kids her age, they’ll be girls, like Neil always wanted. No boys over twelve permitted stay. Billy shifts his head back, eyes sliding from Max and off to the wall. He’s starting to feel Tuesday night’s painful sort of nausea. Like his guts are going through a meat grinder.

“It’ll suck if I’m just surrounded by adults the whole time. However long that’s gonna be…Mom wouldn’t say.”

“Maybe she doesn’t know yet, Max.”

“Maybe not. She’s trying to keep her cool but I can tell she’s nervous. Even more than me and I can’t let on that I’m nervous at all, not to Mom, because then she’ll really flip her lid. She tried so hard to convince me everything will be okay at the shelter. She’ll feel like a failure if she knows I’m scared and Neil’s already made her feel a failure over and over. I won’t do it too.”

This is the last conversation they’re ever going to have. This is the last time they’re ever going to talk to each other. Max is on the precipice of another massive move to somewhere new. All the secrecy and uncertainties surrounding it make it all the more of a transition and Billy’s last job as her older brother is this conversation. He’s trying to focus on it, on her, but the pain in his stomach is growing more insistent.

“Billy?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think we’ll ever see each other again?”

Billy curls his fingers in the bedsheets and silently begs for it not to get any worse. Not now. Max is leaving, Susan is leaving, fuck it— his fucking family is leaving and he can’t do this right now.

“…uh…yeah. I’m gonna get out of this Hawkins dump as soon as I can. And I bet you and your mom will find somewhere for yourselves better than this dump too, without Neil steering the wheel…how about, five years from now, we meet up in Cali? At least you and me, Sue can come too if she wants.”

Billy doesn’t think she would. Things have been better between him and his stepmother, yeah, but. He knows what he is. And Max— Max too, really. She thinks she’ll want to see him again now. Things have been better and maybe there’s even a part of her that still thinks of him as her cool big brother, but when she gets some distance, she’ll get some perspective and neither of them will want anything to do with him anymore. By then he’ll just be one more ugly part of an ugly life, the wayward offspring of the enemy.

By then he’ll be nothing but a reminder and no one wants reminders.

Max hums thoughtfully. “Yeah. We could do that, right? I always wanted to go back to San Diego…”

She squeezes his shoulder and Billy shuts his eyes. It’s getting harder to ignore how awful he feels. His whole body sagging with the overall illness laying him low. The torrent of nausea washing over him even though he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have anything left to puke up. The vengeful reprisal of the invisible knife, carving into his guts with a silent wrath.

“…does that sound good? …Billy?”

“What?” He blinks rapidly.

“The zoo, sick brain.” She huffs a little and gives his shoulder another squeeze. “In five years, let’s meet up at the zoo. In the gift shop where you stole the lion keychain.”

“Hey, you remember that.”

“You stole a gag giraffe toy for me too, the squishy one. When you squeeze it, the eyes pop out.”

“Pfft, yeah…I said, ‘look, it’s your mom’ and slipped it in your backpack.”

“I still have that giraffe, Billy,” she continues, voice determined. “I’m bringing it with me. I’ll look at it every day so I don’t forget our meeting place.”

Billy doesn’t really feel like talking anymore. He just wants to shove his head under the pillow and sleep it off, sleep it out. Wake up when his stomach isn’t being stabbed and his heart isn’t being strangled.

It’s a shining fantasy, that’s all. A fuzzy, glowing thing that will never happen. He’s just playing along for Max’s sake.

“What day, Max?”

“I was thinking the Fourth of July. You dad always made sure the fourth was the biggest Hargrove household holiday.” Billy can hear her roll her eyes. “Neither of us will ever forget that date, not even in five years.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “Sounds good. We’ll meet again at the San Diego Zoo gift shop in five years, on the fourth.”

“Pinky swear?”

Moving makes the pain worse. Any movements, even small ones.

“Nah. My hands are all sweaty and contagious, you don’t wanna touch ‘em.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m not getting you sick, Max,” Billy states firmly. “You’ve got enough going on.”

There is a pregnant pause.

“I really do,” she says eventually, her tone wary. “I hate Neil. But leaving him means leaving you and my friends, and going somewhere with a bunch of total strangers who have their own Neils who might come after us.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“It could! Stranger things have happened! Stranger things happen all the time!”

Max smacks her hands together and does something with her arms that shifts her weight and in turn, shifts the mattress. The minute movement multiplies the knives and the stabs, and Billy agonizes, grinding his molars against a hiss as those knives in his gut twist so hard he’s already seeing fireworks.

“What’s wrong?”

It hurts so bad. This isn’t the flu. Billy doesn’t know what it is, but it’s definitely not the flu.

“Billy?”

Christ, is he dying?

“Hey.” The back of Max’s hand rests against his cheek, smaller and warmer than her mother’s was, fabric bandaid under her knuckles now protecting that scab she wouldn’t stop picking at. “Geez, you’re burning up. Are you dying?”

He’d gibe back at her if he wasn’t seriously evaluating this possibility. He momentarily considers telling her that he is, that it’s so fucking bad it’s like knives. Then he blinks and Susan’s here, half-in-half-out, one foot over the threshold of his bedroom, the other still in the hallway.

“Time to go, Max.”

Max inhales sharply above his ear. Billy composes himself. He clears his throat and does his best to keep his voice steady.

“You heard her,” he mutters. “Get your ass outta here, lemme sleep this off.”

Abruptly, Max’s weight flops over his torso, arms squeezing. She’s hugging him. She’s hugging him and the pain is so bad it’s blinding. Billy traps a scream between his teeth, burns with shame as the tears spring to his eyes. He can’t bring himself to uncurl enough to push her off. He can’t bring himself to uncurl enough to hug her back.

“Germs,” he manages to grate out, hoping it’s enough.

Max’s arms unlatch and she climbs down from his bed. Billy’s head spins with reeling pain and nausea as she trots across his floor for the final time. She stands at her mother’s side, no longer his responsibility.

“Bye, Billy.” Max’s lips twitch in a sad smile, her hand raised in a halfhearted wave.

Susan steps aside to let her through and lingers for a heartbeat, frowning at him.

“I hope you feel better, Billy…”

“Your tea was bitter,” he gripes even though he hasn’t taken a single sip.

Susan’s eyes sharpen. She sees something, Billy isn’t sure what. Her lips part but he speaks first.

“Please get out.”

So he can cry. So he can scream. It hurts, he hurts. His stomach, his heart. It’s horrible, he’s horrible.

Susan bobs her head and obliges, making herself scarce. Billy hangs onto the sound of steps getting further away. He doesn’t let the tears fall until he hears the door close and then he’s smashing his face into his pillow to smother his sobs in cotton stuffing. Forces himself to stop because crying’s making it worse, much worse, his shoulders are hitching and moving is anguish.

Something is so very wrong.

Billy can’t even think around its wrongness. Last night the pain was sharpest in his side but right now it feels like his whole stomach is burning. He shifts even slightly and his stomach burns with white-hot pain but he’s so cold everywhere else.

Billy lies still and curled and quiet, impatiently waiting for it to get better. If he doesn’t move, it should get better. Curling like this helped last night and then this morning, the pain went away.

Will it go away again if he just keeps waiting?

He’s already waited so long.

Will it come back even worse?

Could it get worse?

That’s a stupid question, everything can get worse. If there is anything Billy has learned in his life, it’s that there’s no real rock bottom. It can always get worse.

That shove will turn into a slap. That slap will turn into a punch. That punch will multiply into many punches. The opposite arm will lock around your throat so those punches can keep pummeling the breath right out of you and the night you think you’re gonna punch back—

No such thing as bad as bad gets, no limits, maybe if he really is dying, it’s for the best. Maybe dying is the best goddamn thing that can happen to you in a world where invisible knives slicing into you and screams shriveling like dead leaves—

(everyone leaves, doesn’t matter if it’s autumn)

—behind your chattering teeth could very well be the least of your suffering. It hurts so bad he can barely breathe.

Billy forces himself out of bed anyway. He always gets up even when he doesn’t want to, but today he’s outstandingly bad at it. His organs must be pureed from all the silent stabs and his legs buckle under him. His hands fly out when he falters, ceramic mug knocked off his nightstand.

When the tea spills on him, it’s cold and Billy’s confused because it’s supposed to be hot tea. Then he’s confused at his own confusion because no fucking shit it’s cold now, it’s been out for hours.

How many hours?

When did Susan put the kettle on?

How long has Susan been gone, Max in tow?

It feels like an eternity but Neil isn’t home yet, so Billy knows that’s not true. He has no idea what time it is, but he knows he’d know if Neil was home. Neil makes his presence known. Neil doesn’t set foot in this house without immediately staking claim to everyone’s attention.

Everyone?

There is no everyone anymore. Just Billy and Neil now. Billy got out of bed with the intention of finding his keys. Driving himself to the hospital. Because it’s been hours, how many he isn’t sure, but enough of them to mean he needs to go to the hospital. Go to the zoo?

No, he— he can’t go to the hospital.

He could make himself get up. Demons slice their claws through his stomach with every chill that wracks his frame and garble their guttural taunts right into his ears but he could get up. He could but he won’t, he knows better.

If Billy goes to the hospital, they’re going to call Neil. It’s a small town. Someone will know who he is even if he pretends to be too out of it to say. Someone will know he belongs to Neil and then Neil will be called. Then Neil will find out even sooner that he’s been left, and he’ll get mad, and Billy doesn’t know what he’ll do with the anger but it won’t be good.

Max and Sue need as much time as they can get, as much distance between him and his dad as possible before he finds out. He’s going to find out but they got a head-start and Billy won’t sabotage that. It’s better for him too, in case Neil decides to turn the rage his way. Neil takes responsibility for jack shit, he might even decide it’s Billy’s fault they're gone, because he got left behind to blame.

Billy could make himself get up but he won’t. He just pulls the comforter off the bed and over himself on the floor. It’s so bad he could writhe but that too, would make it worse. He’s waiting to watch a demon claw its way out of his stomach, like that scene in that one movie he watched with Max.

It wasn’t the last movie he watched with Max. Billy doesn’t remember the last movie he watched with Max, the last movie he’ll ever watch with Max. He’s never going to see her again. If he dies here on the carpet, he supposes he’ll never see anyone again.

Crying about it won’t help. Crying doesn’t solve anything.

Something is making a horrible yowling sound. There’s a stray cat in the neighborhood, it must be right outside his bedroom window. Or else it got inside somehow, it sounds so close. Its cries sound so wretchedly human.

Billy isn’t a brother anymore, he has demons twisting their pitchforks in his stomach, he’s too cold to catch his breath, and his cheeks are very wet. He doesn’t have any time or energy to chase around a stray cat, to stop it from making a mess.

Billy does not die on the floor. When his father comes home at first his yells are angry and then his yells are fearful. He calls an ambulance and cradles Billy close until it comes.

Billy loses himself in the whirlwind of activity that follows. He gets poked and prodded and jabbed, and someone blessedly takes his pain away but Billy doesn’t know who because everyone’s faces blur until they all look the same. He has too many white blood cells and not enough hydration.

Dehydration, that’s deja vu. But it’s not Susan talking about dehydration this time even though he wishes it was. He wishes it was?

Yes. No. She needed to get out. Max needed to get out. Billy has too many white blood cells and not enough hydration, and his fever’s so high they might as well bake cookies on him and— and if his mother were here, she would like that one, yeah, he definitely got his dry wit from her. Sardonic snark is right up Mom’s alley. But she had to get out too, everyone has to get out.

Except Billy. He’s fine. Well, he’s not fine, apparently he needs surgery, but he doesn’t need to escape. One day he will, but he doesn’t need to. It’s not a necessity. No matter what Max saw That Night he doesn’t remember, Neil would never kill him.

Neil would never, ever kill him. Billy is his only legacy. Piss poor legacy from Neil’s standpoint, sure, he’ll never let him forget it. But nonetheless, it’s the only one he’s got. Billy may blow his brains out when he gets bored of his twenties (if he even makes it that far) just to spite the bastard because he doesn’t want to be his good-for-nothing piece of shit legacy, he never asked for that.

But now is not the time to begrudge all he didn’t ask for, now is the time to count backwards.

“Dad?” Billy calls into the quiet nighttime of the room, blinking fuzzily at the figure slumped in the chair beside his bed. His throat feels like sandpaper, he swallows with an effort and tries again. “Dad?”

Neil stirs this time, eyes brightening, alert on Billy. “I’m here. Do you need something?”

Billy pauses. “M’sick, right?”

“Sure as shit you’re sick,” Neil huffs, eyes narrowing. “Almost lost all three of you in the same day.”

The words bounce around Billy’s skull.

“Susan left me,” Neil continues slowly, anger shimmering like hot coals underneath the veil of weariness. “All her stuff is gone, she took Max too. I don’t expect you knew anything about that?”

“No, sir,” Billy denies. “I thought they went shopping.”

“No. They certainly didn’t go shopping. They cleared out and left us behind. No explanation, no letter, not even a note.”

So it’s ‘us’ now, huh?

Billy widens his eyes, does his best to seem surprised as he attempts to sit up. Then he really is surprised, first at how awful of an idea that is, and then at realizing the blanket covering his hospital bed is one from home. One of Neil’s, fleecy and worn.

“Grabbed a few things from home. Needed something to do to keep my mind busy. You were on the operating table twice as long as they told me you were gonna be, Bill. Scared the hell out of me.”

“…why?”

“I’m told your appendix ruptured before they opened you up and that complicated things…you’re gonna be here for a little while, bud.” Neil gently rubs his shoulder. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

He answered the wrong question. Billy wasn’t asking why it took longer, he was asking why Neil was scared. But he doesn’t correct him. He swallows and hopes Max and Susan are safe. He wonders just what time they got to wherever they were going. Susan never shared the location or ever alluded to the distance from Hawkins. He hopes there were no mishaps along the way, no flat tires or fender-benders, or murderous traffic in backed up lanes.

“Not a baby,” he mutters. “Not gonna bitch about a stupid stomachache.”

At that, his father raises a brow. He gives a shake of the head and his hand leaves Billy’s shoulder. He makes a low noise in his throat that almost sounds like approval and covers Billy’s forehead with his hand. The heel of his palm is calloused and Billy knows he’s been hitting the bottle when the unmistakable scent of warm beer wafts over his nostrils.

“Well, it’s just us now, tough guy. You need to speak up if something’s really wrong, capeesh?”

He said it again. Us. They’re an us once more. Billy tiredly lifts his hand, bracing his elbow on the mattress to give his father’s forearm a squeeze.

“Yes, sir.”

[cockasinthebird]

I dreamt last night that Billy and Steve were both hospitalized after the event at Starcourt

Steve in Urgent Care, being watched closely by the government to ensure that the Russians hasn't fitted him with any odd devices like maybe a tracker or some kind of mind control chip, and of course to ensure that whatever drug he was on earlier doesn't have any serious side effects, but he's fine, really, and this is all too annoying to deal with, he just wants five minutes alone

Billy is in the ICU, barely alive, rarely awake, drifting in and out of consciousness, doctors and machines everywhere, some people in lab coats followed closely by big guards. It would be so easy for this to be the end of him; he could just give up now and drift away, finally a way out that isn't really his fault in the end, so maybe he can go out like a hero, being remembered for having saved El and Max and everyone else in the world practically

But then he sees Steve, dressed in his own hospital gown, hair a limp mess, face bloodied, but... smiling. Billy can't talk, can't smile, for he's got a tube going down his throat, hair shaved off and an ugly scar where the scientists and doctors got a good look at his brain to see the after effects of having been “mind flayed”, whatever the fuck that means, and his entire body aches near constantly - the morphine doing a shit job

Steve mumbles something about just wanting to see how he’s doing, talks about himself too, how he’s fine and just wants to go home, but they’re keeping him here because it’s easier to keep an eye on him that way, and Steve might not be as dumb as Billy thought once

And Steve sits down on a chair he’s pulled up next to Billy’s bed, and turns on the tv

They watch Jeopardy together, at 3am, Steve getting almost all the answers wrong as he guesses along, and Billy wants to laugh, but doesn’t feel like he’s physically capable of even that

The next day Steve shows up again three times; breakfast, lunch, dinner. Sometimes he talks, sometimes he just eats in silence, but Billy doesn’t really care either way, he’s just happy he’s not alone

Steve mentions that Max really wants to visit, but she’s not allowed to, some big brutes in suits stand guard and keeps everyone away. Neither of them really know why they allow Steve to visit, but they’re not going to complain about it

Sometimes Steve shows up at night, turns on the tv and leans against Billy’s bed. He looks exhausted, bags heavy under his eyes, no glow to his usually somewhat cheery expressions, and Billy wants to ask what’s wrong, but the tube remains in the way, and neither of them talk 

Eventually Steve falls asleep, head on his arms that rest crossed near Billy’s legs. And he doesn’t wake up till a nurse at 5am asks him kindly to go back to his own room and get some rest there

After about two weeks, give or take, Billy can’t tell time anymore, Steve shows up in a set of fresh clothes that Dustin and his mom brought, because he’s being discharged from the Hospital, and promises to come visit as often as he can, but he’s not allowed to drive yet after… everything that has happened, but he will be back

And he visits several times a week at first, Billy never doubted it, but as Steve returns to the real world out there, he shows up less and less. Every time he does visit he apologises profusely, and talks about his “normal life” and how everything is - how everyone is doing, and he asks Billy how he’s doing, but all he can do is nod

Not that he’d tell the truth if he could

The day comes when Billy finally gets the tube removed, and although he hasn’t spoken in nearly two months, hoarsely he asks for them to call for Steve and have him come visit

And Steve smiles big when he sees Billy doing the same, which is an odd experience for the both of them, because whatever hatred they had for each other got knocked down a notch when Billy sacrificed himself, and through the last month or so it has almost grown to friendship

After that Steve visits far more regularly, always with food that definitely isn’t a part of a healthy diet, but it tastes fucking amazing compared to the hospital food

They talk and talk and laugh, watch tv, read magazines, eat. Steve tried to get Billy to play some board games with him but hell no he’s not doing that. It all almost feels normal

What could have been- what should have been

When Billy starts physical therapy, he feels his self hatred amp it up by a thousand, because he used to be strong, be the fucking King around Hawkins, but months of being hospitalised and sewn together and only getting up to shower has made him nearly dwindle away

His tan has started to fade, muscles weak and useless, everything just feels sore constantly, and most movement of the legs feel dull and weirdly impossible, and as he has thought so many times during this process, he should have just died. They should have let him

But… Steve’s there, here, always present, shows up for every session he has with the physical therapist without fail. And Steve’s no less stronger than he was before all of this happened; he supports all of Billy without as much as a trembling muscle, and Billy hates him for it, yet he also… loves him for it, and perhaps that’s scarier than anything else that has happened this year

Or ever

Steve’s present too on the days Billy sees a psychiatrist, not that he wants to see one because he’s not insane or mentally disturbed or- he just doesn’t need help, doesn’t want help really, doesn’t want to be seen as weak, or weaker than he obviously is

But Steve explains that he’s seeing a shrink, too, and shares without restraint his own meetings, as they sit and eat junk food on Billy’s bed after his latest appointment, and honestly Billy doesn’t feel as pathetic or weak when Steve talks about going through the same thing, kinda

Time passes, Steve visits near daily, which is weird because doesn’t he have a job at the video store now? He sometimes talks about that girl Robin, but even half a year later nothing has happened between them, and Billy is oddly relieved at that

He’s come to terms with his unrequited feelings for Steve, feelings that he now knows he’s had from the moment he saw him in that parking lot, what feels like ten years ago now. All that anger came from wanting what he couldn’t have, and now it has simmered down to sadness, depressed to know that one day Steve will find a lucky girl and then Billy will become a second choice, or probably a third if he has to fight Robin for Steve’s attention, too… maybe fourth, what with Dustin and the gang

And he truly believes he can live with that, even if it does make him want to cry, which he rarely did before, but everything has changed now

He’s changed

For the better or worse, he can't quite tell, but now he can make Steve smile and laugh, so he can convince himself it's all for the better

Eventually, after almost a year in therapy and being basically a test subject, he's released on two conditions 

1, he has to stay in Hawkins, no leaving it unless escorted by assigned guards

2, he has to "voluntarily" show up two times a week for tests and check ups

And there's a moment where he doesn't want to leave

Not because of those two conditions, because that'd be better than being hospitalised for the rest of your life, right? 

But because he's not sure where his life is going, where his place is in this world anymore 

Neil won't take him back, but even if that was an actual option, he'd have chosen the uncomfortable hospital bed instead 

He can't go back to school, or rather he's not allowed to, and he can't go back to being a lifeguard, not with all these scars and a general inability to fucking swim

At least here at the hospital he's got some semblance of purpose in life, although it isn't much of a way to live

When he mentions it to Steve he's depressed, downtrodden, completely and utterly destroyed, because there's no place for him anymore anywhere, he'll forever be caught in the limbo of Hawkins

But Steve- he… He places his hand on top of Billy's, warm and soft and grounding, and as he smiles so softly, so lovingly, he says "There's a place for you in my life" 

And suddenly nothing else matters than that, than there, here, in Steve's life

In Steve's hand

[the-blind-assassin-12]

The titles are in, and it’s time to vote!

First of all, thank you to everyone who sent in questions- those were a lot of fun to ask. I love when you guys ask hard ones and these were not easy! I quite enjoyed them! 

And to everyone that sent in a title (or several) for this little game, thank you guys too! This was a lot of fun and some of these submissions sparked some very interesting thoughts... while there are others that I am crossing my fingers do not get chosen. Yikes. 

I ended up with 16 potential ideas from the titles that you gave me, and I’ve decided to write a three-part miniseries for each of the the top three. But I don’t want to write three stories about the same character, so to narrow things down, there will be two rounds of voting. 

The first round starts NOW and ends on WEDNESDAY (10/21). Choose your favorite title in each character category. The title with the most votes for each character will move on to the second round. You can vote by commenting on this post, or sending an ask (just not on anon for this please!) Please vote using the numbers assigned to each title per character. I’ll tally up all the votes on Wednesday, and we’ll buckle up for round two.  

So here they are folks, pick your poison for each character please. choose carefully there are landmines :

Billy 

1- Whispers in the Dark 

Quick Summary: Billy counts on an old friend when he’s got nowhere else to go; someone he helped a long time ago and the only person he thinks might actually help him now. 

My thoughts: This has been hiding on my masterlist for far too long. If i’m being honest, the idea scares me a little. It’s not my top choice to write right now for this event, because the way that I want to write it will make it far longer than three parts and I do not want to short change it. 

Fun fact: this one will not be reader insert.

2- Damned if I Do

Quick Summary: How do you make a choice when you know that no matter what you choose there is no way for you to win? You try like hell to find a third option, and you hope beyond reason that it won’t be even worse. 

My thoughts: I really like this one. Like, a lot. My first instinct was to shy away from Billy for this. I actually first saw it being used with a Benjamin or Logan story. But then I was like bitch don’t do that to Billy. So here we are. 

Fun fact: If you like stealth suit Billy this is the one for you. 

3- Ace of Spades

Quick Summary: Billy doesn’t take threats lightly- especially when they’re about the thing he cares about most- Anvil. 

My thoughts: Writing cut-throat, ruthless Anvil CEO Billy is always fun. Especially when he gets to get his hands dirty, too. I’d rank this one as my second favorite out of the three. 

Fun fact: This would be all Billy. Sorry, reader, you’re not in it, nor are any OC love interests. 

Logan

1-Dressed for Revenge

Quick Summary: In this one, Juliet listens to Logan and doesn’t marry William. His true colors come to light and he’s kicked to the curb real quick. Logan heals up and takes a special trip back to the park. 

My thoughts: I think this has the potential to be quite fun… or at least it could start that way. It also has the potential to be serious. 

Fun fact: While I need a new Logan like I need a hole in the head, this would not be connected to any current stories.

2- Nice and Spice(d) 

Quick Summary: Logan Delos in a fancy suit. Spiced Holiday beverages. Mayhem. Definitely not the recipe for how to make the nice list… but who really cares amiright? 

My thoughts: Cocky, happy, healthy Logan at the Delos Holiday party. Yes please. This one is tied to SYiNY but a few years in the future. 

Fun Fact: There’s another midnight kiss and this one won’t leave anyone wanting. Also I really like writing winter in the desert.    

3- Sleep in the Fire

Quick Summary: Logan examines his relationship with his father and decides to give him one last chance to make amends for nearly 35 years of being cold, uncaring and absent. But does he really think Jim will show change? Does he even want him to? 

My thoughts: This one will hurt but probably not as bad as it could if that makes you feel any better. This one is a tie-in to Core Drive. 

Fun Fact: There isn’t one. 

Ryan

1-Arms of a Stranger 

Quick Summary: Hindsight always reveals things that we let hide just under the surface, doesn’t it? A closer look back at the biggest heartbreak of Ryan Brenner’s life...and how he gets through it. 

My thoughts: This makes my stomach squirm a little but I also really like the idea. I like writing about Ryan at different points of his life and thinking about how his experiences may have shaped him into who we know him to be. But I don’t like putting him through pain so there’s also that… But I do really want to write about Chloe again...but… 

Fun Fact: There’s at least one instance of a shirtless Ryan Brenner laying in the light of a stained glass sun catcher. 

2- What’s New Pussycat? 

Quick Summary: Ryan gets a job as a dishwasher for a few weeks at a retro diner where they play A LOT of the same songs and the french fries are somehow both oily and burnt… the upside? The friendly waitress who seems to know quite a lot about good music. 

My thoughts: At first I had no idea what to do with this title and it cycled through almost every character here. But I like where I landed with it. 

Fun fact: Still undecided if this will be connected to Passing Through Ryan. 

3- The Pierogi Incident 

Quick Summary: Cousin chaos. And Polish dumplings. And first impressions. Oh my. Remember that trip to Georgia, when Ryan kissed you in the ocean while his cousins teased him? More of that. But with food. 

My thoughts: It’s no surprise that I love writing about the cousins. This one is tied for the number 1 Ryan spot. 

Fun Fact: Aunt Holly isn’t the only one in Ryan’s family who can cook… and there are certainly some who shouldn’t. 

4- Swipe for Love

Quick Summary: After Ryan breaks things off with Jackie and leaves Utah, he starts getting strange texts only to find out that Lia has set him up with an online dating profile. (Look, even she can see that her mom doesn’t deserve Ryan) Ryan is just about to take it down, when something sparks his interest. 

My thoughts: you guys please don’t make me write awkward dating app interactions…

Fun fact: I honestly do not know how I would write this with any semblance of a straight face. 

Benjamin

1- The Blighted Violin 

Quick Summary: Remember that time Keiran just came for breakfast and to talk about young Seanjamin? And he mentioned that Benj was always writing stories? This is a look at one of B’s masterworks. 

My thoughts: Gonna be straight with you guys- even if this doesn’t get picked it's getting written eventually.  

Fun fact: Young Seanjamin was super dramatic. 

2- The Jilted Tourist

Quick Summary: Benjamin meets a young woman at a train station who has just had a fight with her boyfriend, whom she came to England to visit only to find him...visiting someone else. Benjamin, of course, is friendly and lends an ear while he waits for his train… and then the two go their separate ways. Simple...right?

My thoughts: Julia is a jealous fuckface. 

Fun Fact: Julia is also a big old meanie. 

3- Monsters

Quick Summary: Allie. Julia. Back to back blowups, and Benjamin is absolutely hell bent on not making it three in a row. He either needs to figure out what he needs to change, or get used to being alone again. 

My thoughts: I see this as sort of a precursor to TGTBT Benjamin and while it definitely wouldn’t be fun, it would explain why he’s more ready to be in a relationship with reader than he’s ever been before. 

Fun Fact: This involves a lot of yelling. And crying. And cursing. And throwing things. 

4- Let you Know

Quick Summary: A series of phone calls from different points of Benjamin’s life replay in his head, none of them pleasant. Until one day they don’t. 

My thoughts: Oh, Benj… if this one wins I’m sorry… but I’m also not. 

Fun Fact: Panicked Benjamin is not at all my favorite thing to write. 

Caspian

1- In A Grain of Sand

Quick Summary: Just a grain of sand is all it takes to tip a scale. A single grain slipping through an hourglass starts a countdown, or ends one. One grain at a time, the winds shift the desert landscape into something unrecognizable. 

My thoughts: Not my most fully fleshed out idea up here. Still a lot of plot to figure out for this one to be possible 

Fun fact: this one would feature a suntanned and sweaty king. 

2- The Last Dream

Quick Summary: How much of your last dream do you remember? And what would happen if it were to come true? 

My thoughts: My most far fetched idea yet? Maybe. 

Fun fact: Caspian has very vivid dreams. 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

So there they are in all their unwritten glory. I can’t wait to see which three I’ll be writing! 

[mxtantrights]

˚ · . · ✵PART THIRTY-THREE

word count: 2k

warnings: crying ( happy tears) and winer hats??

HAWKINS, INDIANA

APRIL 1985

It was nice day for lounging. And that's what I was doing. My eyes closed, taking in the soft wind coming from the open window.

Jonathan and I were hanging out around the school even though it was over for the day. He was using the dark room for his pictures still and wanted to develop some before the day was over.  We have plans to get some food after, so I'm just chilling inside his car until he's done.

Well not chilling per say. College acceptances would be going out soon. I was freaking out on the inside- for me, Steve, Nancy and Jon. I know I didn't need to worry about everyone but it just happens sometimes. I wanna see everyone get what they want you know?

"Jessie?"

I sit up and open my eyes at the sound of my name. I recognize the voice even though it's not one that I've heard in a while. Or one that I wanted to hear.

Billy Hargrove.

"Hi?" It comes out more of a question- because the last time we talked it ended with him almost punching me and him being knocked out.

"I just wanted to apologize to you, formally. I know that night I-" He begins to explain himself. Like I wasn't there. Like I wasn't there when he beat on Steve, almost beat on Lucas and me. So I cut him off.

"I don't forgive you. Honestly I don't know if I really can," I start and I see his face drop. He doesn't look sad, instead he looks just like understands. "We can't be friends Billy. But we can be civil for your sister."

He nods his head. "Right. Civil."

"We've only got two more months until we don't have to run into each other in the hallways, or the parking lot. Seems fair doesn't it?" I ask him even though it's rhetorical. All I ever was going to be was civil with him.

"Yeah Jessie, it's fair. See you around." He puts swiftly and then he's gone like he never appeared.

I sit back in my seat but I keep my eyes open. Not that he's gonna come back and punch me or something. Just to watch him actually leave. It wasn't easy seeing him in the hallways after that night happened.

But I dealt with it because he and I didn't talk to one another.

And it's not like were gonna be friends now. Just civil for Max's sake. I don't need bad blood spilling onto me and Max's friendship. Or her and Mickey's.

-

"I swear you guys are so cute. If everyone in their right mind could see it, they'd vote you as best couple." I speak as I dip my fries into the ketchup.

He laughed in between bites of his burger.

"So when are you expecting the acceptance letters?"

I almost choke on my fry. It was like he could read my mind or something. I look over at him a little shocked at first. "Dude are you in my head?"

"It's written all over your face today."

"Yeah well, I think they're coming soon. And I really don't know how I did, I didn't even apply to schools for music-"

"What? Why didn't you apply for music? It's all you do." He cuts me off and asks.

I wince a bit at having admitted that out loud and I grab handful of fries. I didn't tell anyone except my dad. I had missed the pre-screening additions for most of the schools. And that meant that I had no chance at auditions.

So basically applying as a music major was out the window. I had to apply to just the schools instead of both the school and the music school. Which meant that I could still get in but I would have to wait to audition again.

Also meaning that I'd be going someplace far away from here for no reason yet.

"I missed the cut off. But it's fine, I still applied. I can take care of the rest if I get accepted." I explain with a mouth full of fries. Jonathan is giving me a look like he didn't catch what I said so I say it again. This time with my mouth not full.

"I think you mean when you get accepted." He corrects.

I roll my eyes. "Thanks Jon."

"No thank you, I can't believe I'm friends with the soon to be Famous Jessie Glendall."

-

"I figured I should get a job-" I begin to explain but the sound of forks and knives clattering onto plates makes me stop and flinch a bit. What was so shocking about me getting a job? "Me getting a job isn't breaking news."

My dad clears his throat and picks back up his fork. He's blinking oddly for a few seconds. "Wow I mean, I just wasn't expecting it. Not to say I didn't think you could get a job- you know I wouldn't think that. It's just.."

"That means I can go places by myself." Mickey sort of mumbles loud enough for us to hear. When he looks at the both of us and sees that we did in fact hear him he stands from his seat. "I have freedom!"

"Hey!"  I yell at him, picking up a piece of broccoli from my plate and throwing it at him.

I miss him by an inch because he swerves.

"No- Jessie-" My dad starts to scold me.

But it's too late. I'm picking up another piece and throwing it. This time it impacts with Mickey's head. He of course plays the dramatics and makes drops to the floor in 'pain'.

I roll my eyes at his performance. "Oh bite me, get off the floor."

"Jessie can you please not throw vegetables at your brother," My dad points his hand to my seat, for me to take. I take it as he then looks at my brother. "Mickey can you sit down and not wave your possible new found freedom in front of your sister's face?"

I watch closely as Mickey gets up from the floor and slides into his seat.

"That mall is gonna be opening up soon and I think I'll apply to a few places and see which one takes me." I continue.

Mickey snickers. "Are you gonna work at a Weiner place?"

"Jessie please don't throw anything at your brother."

I squint my eyes at my brother. "I'll give you a wedgie so hard that you won't have a wenie."

"Hey!" Mickey yelps and I see the fear in his eyes. "Dad! She can't say that!"

I mock him in another voice.

"Jessie please don't apply to any weiner places, for the sake of the house."

"Fine."

HAWKINS, INDIANA

APRIL 1985

I'm fiddling with my hands again. I don't know what to say. It's like I didn't want thing same things for myself as I did before. Before everything happened. And I feel like if I say that then I'm gonna be told that I'm holding back, or not letting go.

"Tell me what's on your mind." Lisa's voice calls out.

I look up at her now.

"I want," I begin but my breath hikes in my throat. "I just want to be with my family. Music is important to me but not as much as them. At least for the first year."

Lisa nods her head at me and holds her finger up. She ducks down into her cabinet and pulls out a piece of paper. She slides it over on her desk towards me with a small smile on her lips, then holds her hands together.

Hawkins Community college?

"You dad filled out a copy in early January before the deadlines. This is a photocopy. " She explains to me as I pick up the paper. It's an application form like the ones me and her filled out together in December.

Except it's in his handwriting. And it's for Hawkins Community college.

"He filled this out for me?" I ask.

She nods her head. "Now he wasn't supposed to, but I may have helped and sent it in. You father was supposed to tell you, so you would know. Since, you know, what we did was not really legal."

I can't help to laugh at that. My dad and my college counselor possibly committed a minor crime for me. It sounds a little crazy, but trust me I know crazy.

"But why would he fill it out if-" The doubt starts to sink in quickly.

"He does believe in you, don't doubt that for a moment sweetheart. I had to pry it out of him but he told me it was because he wanted you close," She gets up from her swivel chair and takes a seat next to me, and takes my hand. "Said it was awfully selfish of him, but a big part of him just couldn't stand to see his little 'Jess Odess' go so far away."

"He's such a smother sometimes." I laugh at my own joke and so does she.

"Look, let's wait until you get all your options first. Then you can decide. And if you choose to tay here the community college is a great start for music. It could be your launch pad whenever you're ready to launch."

"Thank you, thank you so much Lisa."

-

"Why do your eyes look puffy and red?"

If it were anyone else I would try to hide it. Try to sniffle my nose and rub my eyes to get rid of the evidence that I was crying. Not that I don't like crying. I'm just not the best at accepting more than a hug from someone.

But it was Steve. I knew he wouldn't give me any shit for crying.

He sits next to me on the outside bench, shoulder to shoulder.

"I was just with Lisa, talking about schools and stuff." I answer.

"Is everything okay?"

I nod my head vigorously at him and I can even feel my eyes watering again. "Yeah Steve. Everything is fine."

He pulls me into a hug and I do the same to him. "These are happy tears? We love happy tears."

I can hear my laugh a little bit over the commotion of outside. It was lunch so that meant the middle school was playing outside. And the highschoolers were hanging around or trying to skip to get real food.

"Yeah we do," I pull away from him and his face reminds me of what I wanted to ask him. "Oh I almost forgot- I'm gonna be applying for jobs in the mall."

"Really?"

"Okay what is it with everyone being surprised that I want to get a job?" I let out a playful sigh. It was kind of funny that people were shocked that I'd want a job. Maybe because they thought I was some superstar.

"No no no- it's not that I'm surprised, I'm more happy than surprised actually." He starts of sputtering like a car engine until he gets it right. I nod along to his answer.

"Happy for me possibly working at a place where I'd have to wear a hot dog on my head?" I rest my hand on the top of my head with a finger pointing up. It's really creative imagery, as creative as I can get.

His face scrunches up as he laughs at my impromptu weiner hat.

"I mean yeah, I might be working there this summer too." He adds and that makes me shocked. I figured if Steve ever wanted a job he'd just slum it at his dad's place. I know he probably wouldn't want to but it beats wearing a weird job outfit.

Steve in a weiner hat.

I laugh at the mental image in my head. "I just imagined you in a weiner hat and I have to say, not too bad."

"Not too bad, what about my hair?"

"Calm down pretty boy there's more to you than your hair."

[nagdabbit]

16. "I only have sexual words for non-sexual feelings!" please and thank you!

HIIIIII FRIEND! 💜💜💜 i’m sorry this is so late! i am, it turns out, very slow at these prompty things.

i hope this one make you laugh and makes your day a little better and i’m sorry it took soooo long. 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

~~~~~~~

"Okay, okay, start from the top," Steve said, waving his hands at her. "You're talking very fast and out of order and it's very confusing."

"How?" she demanded, damn close to pulling her hair out, because it wasn't confusing; it was frustrating and annoying and anxiety-inducing and frustrating, and she was sure she was speaking clear enough that Steve could follow. "What's confusing about this?!"

"Just--start from the beginning, okay?" Steve said, making another placating kind of gesture at her. He was leaning across the counter, watching her with those big, friendly Disney princess eyes.

"The beginning is that I don't want to have sex," she snapped and continued her pacing.

Steve nodded, and he had one of those stupid encouraging sort of looks on his face and she hated how much it actually helped calm her. "Now? With Heather? Ever?"

"Never," she snapped. "Not ever. Not at any time in the near, or distant, future do I ever want to have sex with anyone."

"Okay. So what's the problem?"

"The problem, Steven, is that I can't have sex with Heather." 

"Right."

When he didn't reply right away, she paused in her pacing. "Well?"

He frowned at her, shrugged a little. "Well, what?"

"Well, are you going to help me or not?!"

"Help with what? Seems like you have it figured all out," he said, easily, and had the audacity to laugh. 

"Steve, I don't have words for this," she said, possibly too loudly, if his wince was anything to go by. "Look at the everything in here! Look! This is what we both grew up with! This-this--hyper-sexualized view of women, this obsession with sex as a goddamn plot device in every fucking movie! The fact that every relationship in every movie is about sex?! This is the media that raised me, Steve!"

"Okay. And?"

She gestured some kind of way that she hoped he understood. 

He didn't. "Robin, I don't speak lesbian," he said, returning the gesture to her with more flailing than she really thought was really necessary. "Tell me what the actual problem is."

"I only have horny words, Steve," she said, and knew immediately that it was definitely too loud. "All I know is-is how to talk like these dumb, shitty movies, and speak in innuendo and words like--"

"Okay, okay, slow down a minute," Steve yelled, pushing back from the counter he'd been leaning on. Hands on hips, head tilted, brow furrowed, full-mom. "First, stop yelling. This is not a place for yelling. Second, slow down, good lord you're running your mouth like you're in a race. And third, I'm still very confused."

She sighed and dropped her chin to her chest as she took a deep breath. When she looked back up Steve was still watching her expectantly. 

"I only have sexual words for non-sexual feelings," she said, slowly, because she was going to talk to him like he was an idiot if he was going to treat her like one of his children. "The way I learned to talk about relationships and romance and all that is from all this--this sex-obsessed trash that has been shoved down our throats all our lives. I can't--talk about this because I can't explain it because I don't have the words for it.

"I just want a girlfriend and maybe kisses and hugs and picnics and romance and fancy dates and movie nights," Robin said in a rush. She felt herself deflating with each word. "I just want Heather and I want her to understand and I have no idea how to say that to her. I don't know how to tell her I want her, when I don't want her.”

He was still watching her, still wearing that furrowed brow and narrowed eyes. And then turned away and… started digging through the trash. 

"Hey, we're not finished here, asshole!" 

"Just hold on, I have something that I think will help," he grumbled, waving another placating hand at her as he rifled through boxes. He let out a triumphant Ha! and turned back toward her, brandishing a square piece of cardboard. Instead of explaining, of course, he grabbed a marker and started scribbling away at the board in his hands.

"Steve, now isn't the time for arts and crafts!"

"Hold on, I'm almost done," grumbled, drawing a few more lines. And then her gave her a pleased grin and turned the board to face her.

She stared at the cardboard, trying to parse it out. Because she could read the words--despite Steve's godawful handwriting--she just didn't understand. 

The board looked familiar, if just smaller and made of actual trash. It was divided into columns, one reading You Rule, and the other reading You Suck. And there was, for some reason, a tally already in the You Suck column. 

"How does this help me?"

He pointed at her with the marker, eyebrows raised and judging. "You're being an idiot and talking yourself in circles and you need to stop."

"I am not!"

"You are! You literally just said everything you need to say to her, and you used none of those 'horny words' you talked about," Steve argued, tossing the sign down onto the countertop. "You're making a problem where there isn't one, because--"

"I am not!"

"Because you're scared she won't want you," Steve finished, raising his voice over what she was ashamed to admit was a loud screech. "Stop, okay? You've got the words, and you know you do. That isn't the problem."

"But that's not normal, Steve!" She fully meant to yell that time, because she needed him to understand. "Who looks at someone like Heather and doesn't want sex?! Who? I’m broken! Even if she wants me, she wouldn't want someone like--this!"

Steve sighed, shoulders drooping. "Okay, you remember that pamphlet thing you gave me?" he asked, leaning his elbows back on the counter. He gave her another of those earnest looks. "And the books and stuff?"

She nodded, impatiently. "Yeah, I remember. For your Big Bisexual Panic."

He rolled his eyes, but chuckled a little and it really wasn’t the time for that kind of flippancy, goddamn it. "Yep, those books. Did you read them?"

"Uh, no? I didn't need to," she said, shrugging. "Gay here. Hella gay. So incredibly gay, Steve. No panic about it needed. Gay."

He nodded. One of those eyes closed, lips pursed, faux casual kind of mocking nods that she hated. "Right, of course. So you know all about asexuality, right?"

She rolled her eyes at him. She shook her head, impatient and antsy. "No, Steve I don't."

"No? You sure? You know, asexuality? That one where people don't experience sexual attraction?" Steve asked, innocently. "That one?"

And Robin… didn't really have anything to say to that. 

"I did tell you I read everything," he said, smartly, and drew another tally on the board. "But a smart cookie like yourself doesn't need books, right? Because you know everything?

"Robin, asexuality is a thing. And if it's something that I know about, it's a normal thing," he said, a little fiercer than before. "You don't want sex? Fine. How is that any weirder than you not wanting sex with men? I tell you: it's not. So if that's what's making you panic, shut it down now. Okay? Because that's bullshit."

She didn't trust herself to speak, so she just nodded again, helplessly.

"You're not broken, Robin. And if you even try and say you are, I will sic the entire party on you, don't think I won't," he threatened, pointing that damn marker at her again. "They read those books, too, so they could support me, so don't even think they won't support me on this, you got me?"

A small laugh bubbled up out of her--because she knew that to be true, at least--and she nodded.

"Robs, I promise, Heather will understand," Steve said, face softening into something a little less fierce. All concerned expression and gentle, supportive smile like; some kind of cartoon prince.

"How would you even know that?" she demanded, still clinging to the solid ground of being petulant and argumentative with him, like her entire world hadn't just been dropped on its head by a moron in an ugly polo. 

He huffed a little laugh, shook his head at her in disappointment, and then nodded toward the door at her back. "Because she's been standing right behind you the whole time. And she doesn't look sad or angry, which is, I think, supposed to be a good sign."

And about fifteen seconds later, once he'd grown tired of her frozen panic--or her silence or her refusal to even turn around--he rolled his eyes and picked up the sign, drew another tick mark in the You Suck column, and tossed it at her feet. "Okay, while you're doing that, I'll be in back," he said, unimpressed. He waved at someone over her shoulder as he went, "Bye, Heather. Have fun. Always check your blindspot, Buckley."

"Thanks, Steve." There were hands on her shoulders, delicate and sun-darkened and firm as they pushed and pulled and tried to turn her around.

"Did I just get played," Robin asked, slowly, as she watched Steve's retreat, her cheeks growing warmer by the second, "by Steve The Hair Harrington?"

"Expertly."

"Am I ever--"

"Nope," Heather laughed, still trying to turn Robin around. "You think he won't tell Billy? You think I won't tell Billy? You will never live this down."

"Shit."

Another laugh, soft and happy and not--not mocking. "That about sums it up. C'mon, come here and let me hug you."

"But--"

"Nope, it's shut up time now," Heather said, voice still bright. "You said what you needed to say, and I heard it, and I accepted it, and I'm into it. Now, we hug."

Robin sighed and let herself be twisted around and pulled into Heather's arms. She was shocked, still, and more than a little shook up. She kind of wanted to cry, but she put her foot down on that option--she would not cry in Family Video, goddamn it.

She hid her face in Heather's neck, because she didn't think she could hold it together if she had to look the other girl in the eye.

Heather smelled like coconut and bubble gum and strawberries, and her arms were tight around Robin's shoulders. She tried to think about that, instead.

"You're a disaster, Robin Buckley," Heather muttered, rocking them gently. "But it's okay; I like that about you. One of us needs to be the girlfriend with her shit together, and I think that might be me."

Robin's heart stuttered in her chest. "Girlfriend?"

"Yep!" Heather said, brightly. "So, wanna get dinner?"

"Dinner?!" 

"Everyone needs to eat," she said, and suddenly there was a hand in Robin's hair and nails gently scratching her scalp and it was perfect. “I’m thinking… pizza?”

“I just had my entire world fucked up and still managed to get a girlfriend, and you wanna think about pizza?!”

The shoulder she was hiding in shrugged, dislodging her. Heather was smiling, so big and wide that her little, button nose scrunched up--and goddamn it she was too cute

“So,” Heather said, smug like she could read Robin’s mind. “How about that pizza?”

“Are we gonna talk about this? About me?”

Heather nodded, smile turning soft and sweet, all the attention of those rich, chocolate brown eyes on Robin. She opened her mouth to say something when an annoying asshole interrupted her.

“If you need some help,” Steve began, and sounded far too smug for his own good, "I have some books you can borrow."

[hartigays]

25 + harringrove? 💦

25. Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain.

it’s fucking pouring.

billy grunts in irritation, trying to squint through the rain and spot the camaro. no such luck.

practice ran late, and then he’d gotten stuck doing cleanup with steve fucking harrington after another little tussle broke out on the court.

he’d only meant to shove steve out of the way. nailing him right in the eye with his elbow was completely unintentional. but it happened, and steve reacted. as usual. after that, there’d been no talking his way out of cleanup duty; coach wasn’t having any of it.

so, by the time billy makes it out to the parking lot, it’s dark and everyone else is gone. and the current torrential downpour is just the cherry on top of a shit afternoon.

“fuckin’ typical,” billy mutters, glaring up at the sky. it doesn’t answer, save for the fat raindrops that splash directly into his eyes.

“you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

billy turns to see steve walking out of the gym, coming to a halt immediately. it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s soaked from head to toe, too.

“fuck it,” billy huffs, shoving his fists into his jacket pockets and turning to leave. “just some fuckin’ rain. whatever.”

he’s mildly surprised when steve’s hand shoots out, grabbing billy by the crook of his elbow. “you try to drive in that, and you’ll end up dead.”

billy yanks his arm away. “the fuck should i listen to you? you a certified meteorologist?”

steve blinks at him. “a meteor-what? never mind, forget it. drive at your own risk, man.”

he turns and heads back into the gym, leaving little puddles of water in his wake. billy really should just take his chances. go get in the camaro and speed home, cross his fingers and hope he doesn’t die. but, against his better judgment, billy turns and walks back inside before the door can swing shut.

“you got an extra pair of shorts?” billy asks. he tries to not sound tentative. keeps his chin up and his gaze hard. “only have my dirty shit from this week.”

he’s lingering by the door, while steve has made himself comfortable on the bleachers. there’s a massive puddle of water beneath him, but he doesn’t seem to care.

when steve finally looks at him, he just nods and sits up, then heads in the direction of the locker room. billy follows after him with a roll of his eyes, jamming his hands deeper into his pockets.

the locker room is still hot and humid from the showers their teammates took after practice ended. steve gets his locker open, then groans, thumping his head on the cool metal.

“you good?” billy asks after a moment, shifting awkwardly. the silence had been too uncomfortable not to break.

steve just looks at him, giving him a weak smile. “yeah, not really. sorry. i forgot i asked tommy to take my shit home with his and wash it. i’m out of detergent.”

“figured mommy and daddy paid someone to do that shit for you.”

“yeah, well. they don’t, and they’re not around, so. we’re shit out of luck in the dry clothes department,” steve snaps.

billy only feels a little bad for being a dick. and maybe a little worse when steve winces, his hand instinctively moving to press against his swollen eye. if it makes billy’s stomach clench unpleasantly to watch, he’s the only one who needs to know.

“don’t touch it, it’ll make the shit swell more,” billy offers, averting his eyes. he stares at a black spot on the wall. “i think i’ve got some painkillers around here somewhere.”

maybe it’s because he feels bad, or maybe it’s just for the sake of having something to do with his hands, but billy digs through his locker. rummages around until he finds a bottle of tylenol. he turns and tosses it to steve.

“thanks,” steve mumbles in acknowledgement, knocking a few pills back.

“it was an accident,” billy blurts. his cheeks heat up and he snatches the bottle back. “your eye, i mean. didn’t do it on purpose.”

steve stares at him for a moment, then points at a healed laceration under the same eye. “this an accident too?”

billy doesn’t quite know what to say to that. he finds himself moving closer. reaching out and tracing the thin, silvery line below steve’s eye.

“no. doesn’t mean i should’ve done it, though.”

“no, you shouldn’t have,” steve agrees.

they’re close enough that billy can feel steve shivering. can feel the soft puff of his breath. can count every mole on steve’s face.

“would it help if i said i was sorry?” billy asks. his voice is quiet, almost like he’s sharing a secret.

“only if you meant it.”

billy meets steve’s eyes. they’re big and brown and ringed with a thick fringe of lashes. the type of eyes that tend to get billy in all sorts of trouble. “wouldn’t say it if i didn’t.”

steve’s eyes narrow, coming into full-focus. a challenge. “then say it.”

for a moment, it feels like the world has stopped turning. billy feels frozen in place. he doesn’t say sorry. doesn’t do apologies. never has. what does he have to fucking apologize for? it’s not his fault his dad kicked him into the sorry excuse of a person he is now. he shouldn’t have to apologize for it.

but when he looks into those pretty brown doe eyes again, the words spill from his lips easily. i’m sorry.

billy feels as shocked as steve looks. he hadn’t been anticipating that. they both stand impossibly still, the heavy weight of silence pressing down on them.

and then, “it’s okay.”

billy’s eyes had taken to staring at his shoes, but they find steve’s again as soon as he speaks. steve gives him a small half smile, one of his hands coming up to toy with one of billy’s curls. they’re both still dripping from head to toe, the ground now looking more like a lake, but billy can’t bring himself to care.

not when steve is looking at him like that. like he knows something billy doesn’t. he can feel the heat of steve’s palm hovering just next to his cheek. he can’t help but lean into it, and steve’s smile widens when he does.

“i don’t think i’m ever going to understand you, billy hargrove.”

billy’s breath catches in his throat. he feels incredibly exposed. torn between wanting to hit steve and run far away, and wanting to pull him close and get a taste.

“but you want to?” he asks. his eyes are fixed on steve’s lips.

steve takes the last step, closing the last remaining bit of distance between them. rests his palm fully on billy’s cheek, then leans in. captures billy’s lips in the sweetest kiss he’s ever received.

it feels like every last one of billy’s nerve endings comes alive. billy gasps into steve’s mouth before he takes two generous handfuls of his shirt and hauls him even closer. he doesn’t care that steve’s hair is drenched, he gets one of his hands in it anyway. he doesn’t care that they’re dripping all over each other.

he doesn’t care that their clothes are plastered to their bodies from the rain, or that they start to get plastered to each other the closer they get to one another. he doesn’t care that his own hair is soaked, sticking to his neck and making him itch. he doesn’t care that rainwater rolls off of steve’s eyelashes and down billy’s cheeks.

he doesn’t care, because nothing could ever ruin this. not this, something billy has dreamt of since the first day he stepped into hawkins high. the feeling of steve’s lips against his has been out of his reach for too fucking long, and a little rain isn’t going to spoil that for him.

steve pulls back. pushes the wet curls from billy’s forehead, smiling softly.

“you’re shivering,” steve points out. and, oh, yeah. he is. he hadn’t even noticed. “guess we’ll just have to take a hot shower. such limited options.”

billy waits for him to start laughing, but steve doesn’t. he just spins on his heel, walking towards the showers. looks back over his shoulder for a moment, giving billy an impish smile.

“you coming?”

steve may have had to ask twice, but he certainly doesn’t have to ask a third time. billy gets himself to move, all but running towards the showers. steve’s laughter is like music to his ears.

it’s not exactly the evening billy had planned for, but fuck it if he isn’t going to take it. after all, steve did make him a generous offer.

billy would be an idiot not to take it.

send me a number + a pairing!

[vaguely-concerned]

I played Death of the Outsider finally and I have some Feelings about it

and most of them not very positive. nice stuff first tho!

THINGS I LIKED:

- billie is such a good character. still new to her old self and slightly tender from coming out of the protective shell of lies that was meagan foster, full of old scars and doubts and bitterness but trying for something better, something kinder even though she still doesn’t quite understand what she’s walking towards -- the genuine care and tenderness in her voice when she talks to daud or thinks about deidre. I love her.

all that and she effortlessly IS also the queer disabled woc the gamer bros refuse to believe could possibly exist. exquisite. 

- the idea of ‘killing’ the outsider is compelling, but it’s the sort of idea that needs a full length game to support it and its implications. cool idea, completely wrong execution.

- saying that: I love that the injustice of the outsider’s creation being righted is only made possible by a long unbroken line of mercy and kindness. daud saved billie from the streets, corvo spared daud, daud saved emily and spared billie after her betrayal, billie tried to save aramis stilton and became entangled in the void, emily spared billie, billie took this job in the first place partly because she loves her dad daud and wants him to find peace. that idea is so beautiful that I wish the rest of the narrative was strong enough to hold it up lol.

there’s also something going on here with other people holding on to the important pieces of you -- that billie is ‘all that is left’ of daud after he’s dead. once he saved a child from true loneliness and gave her a purpose, made her feel seen again, gave her the closest thing she had to a home, and when he’s completely lost himself in the void... that kindness is still alive in billie, and she helps him find his way. again that is really touching and thoughtful and plays wonderfully into the chaos system in these games thematically! too bad about all the stilted dialogue and characterization messes and uh. everything else. 

- most of all I love how clear it is that billie and daud love each other. it’s a quiet love that has nothing to prove anymore, it’s survived all the blood and the ugliness and everything they’ve done to each other and to the world, a love with no demands left. it’s not the sort of love you usually see, in all its unsentimentality, but it’s real. when daud tells her he’s proud of her and trusts her no matter what she chooses to do, you feel how much he means it. (making his insistence on trying to make her choice for her all the weirder -- see my long rant of lamentation about his characterization in doto below lol)

there’s something about daud’s undramatic yet complete acceptance of and respect for billie that... I didn’t know I needed this, but it was a nice gift nonetheless haha, thank you. (it’s similar to how good it feels in D2 when you realize corvo just likes emily a lot as a person, even aside from her being his daughter. a good series for father & daughter stories)

- this carries over from D2, but I think the journal/log entries are better written and more insightful than the stuff out in the world.  

- it cannot be overstated how much the gameplay loop of these games is just... pure crack cocaine for my brain haha, very few things give me this specific kind of brain tingle. I love the sound of looting and I love the art style and ambiance and I love planning out a strategy after finding all the options and I love never being spotted or killing anyone and I love the puzzle elements they put into exploration sections and I love the feeling of how you move through the environment. it’s one of the few games where I routinely get so into it I end up with a crick in the neck because I’ve been so focused for so long and never noticed I’ve been sitting in a way that makes my entire spine hate me. I needed something to get me through the last few days and it did deliver that, at least. karnaca is pretty enough that I didn’t even mind that most of the levels were recycled from D2 either. 

- I’m not quite sure whether I understood this right but there’s a woman standing behind daud in the void -- I wonder if that is actually his mother and he’s been so close this whole time? at first I thought maybe it was jessamine but god no I hope she’s finally at peace after All That Nonsense, she shouldn’t have to hang around there anymore. there’s also a figure near him I could swear was corvo with his mask on, but he’s not dead canonically so that would make very little sense. oh well I’ll take my feels where I can get them even if I have to make them up wholesale  

- the bankheist was cool as fuuuuuck, that and the emotional impact of daud dying was sadly the height of this game for me, after that it all went mediocre real quick     

- paul nakauchi as shan yun was, as I have said before, a blast. ‘ugh I cannot continue my throat is as raw as a plucked pheasant’ fsdkfhlsadjkhfas

- daud’s funeral is genuinely touching. she gave him the entirety of her old life for a sendoff, battered and worn and dear as they both were. someone hold me 

THINGS I  H A T E D:

- the stuff they did with daud’s characterization. I am so unreasonably angry over this haha, the more I think about it the more I hate it. I think there are paths you could go with his ACTUAL character to make this work, but this was not it. I’ve said this before, but his most iconic, most defining scene is him surrendering himself to corvo’s judgement without justifying himself or deflecting the blame for any of what he’s done. this isn’t even regression in his character, it’s just.. a different character altogether. they could have gone for the angle that delilah almost managed to end the world b/c daud showed mercy and that’s the reason he’s moved to action, I think that might be a more compelling motivation for him at least. OR have him be more conflicted about how to do things -- violence is still the only tool he knows how to use but it’s not what he wants to or even can be anymore and the conflict troubles him, ‘His hands do violence, but there is a different dream in his heart’. or even use a different character for the ‘kill kill kill’ angle, he didn’t need to be here for this dlc at all.   

also, just on a purely practical level... for all his flaws and longstanding moral shortsightedness daud is not a stupid man. why the FCK would he be so sure that killing the outsider will fix anything? if I, dumbass extraordinaire, could within half a minute wonder if maybe something even worse would take the outsider’s place if you removed him... why does that never occur to the Knife of Dunwall tm, a man about Void for like half a century or whatever?? ugh fuck this, I’m having a hard time explaining exactly why it all feels weird and wrong to me, but know that it does and that I Do Not Like It lol. I feel cheated out of something important I thought I had.  

- again, this should have been a full game. (I think it is sold as one already, but it just hm isn’t) there’s way too much shit of literal cosmic importance for the game’s universe being picked up here for something this short to cover. save this HUGE idea for a rainy day should you ever want to do another game in the series and do something else with the dlc, honestly. 

- god but the outsider is insufferable in this. I don’t know what happened, but by the end I was like ‘*thoughtfully strokes chin* maybe daud has a point billie keep that knife handy’. he’s annoying and boring, which is wild to me because he was always a lot of fun in the other games.

for real tho I don’t know if this is just my atheist-but-still-angry-at-god-somehow??? talking, but daud HAS a point. people are responsible for their own actions, but the outsider didn’t have to do any of what he did either. he could have chosen to be bored through the centuries instead of seeing what people would do if you gave them such ~*morally neutral*~ abilities as y’know summoning a bunch of rats to eat other people. the game wants me to buy the ‘but really this black eyed boy is woobie tho uwu’ so badly and no I’m not buying that give me my refund I want my chaotic neutral bastard back pls. I’d probably be more inclined to want to help him like that. where’s his salt gone, arkane. if you didn’t want him to be edgy why did you make him look like that.  

- this is the lamest possible version of the outsider’s backstory lol, it feels like the pearl clutching panic about satanic cults back in the day all over. listen if it’s this easy to make a god the thrill is sort of taken out of it, if these randos did it anyone could. also how the fuck are they just normal-ish people anyway? why do they follow modern fashions? haven’t they been hanging around for thousands of years, haven’t their culture changed in any meaningful way? (I realize these aren’t the same guys as back in the day but it’s just weird) why do they speak a language billie and the player can understand? why did anyone think ‘idk some cultists no one’s ever heard of before with no thematic significance whatsoever’ was the way to go world building wise? they’ve taken all the unknowable eldritchness out of the eldritch horror and we’re all poorer for it now haha 

relatedly the last level is... just not very good. you come down from the awesome bank heist and then there’s... whatever the fuck this was.

- while I do like billie finding daud in the void and him remembering her I hate that he goes out still full of self loathing and rage when you talk him into the nonlethal option, that he can’t forgive himself or find any sliver of hope or peace. I wish there had been a few more moments for the two of them to come to peace with themselves before he gave the outsider back his name, some real catharsis. as it is I was annoyed when the outsider ‘woke up’ or whatever b/c it felt like he was stealing attention from what I was actually emotionally invested in and not done with.    

they had  n o t  built up billie’s or my sympathy for the outsider well enough either. again this is something I think they could have done if they’d structured things differently, if they’d been more deliberate in making you understand he was basically a child and letting you dwell on it. because there is a parallell there between him and billie, and billie and daud, but I, how do I put this, did not give a fuck  

in short this was really similar to my experience with D2 in that there’s enough good there that it’s all the more painful when it fails to deliver on it again and again, and it ruined things I already liked about this story from the first game (daud’s arc and everything to do with the outsider, mostly). give me some months of denial and hard core headcanon work and I’ll probably be able to live with it

[flippyspoon]

Your Guy

Note: Plotless fluff to rot your teeth. Eat your goddamn sugar.

The thing is Billy’s never known any other dudes who bone dudes. Which is not to say he didn’t fool around with a couple of guys before Steve but he can’t say he really knew them, it wasn’t like they had long intimate talks in between furious handjobs and anyway, those guys were pretty insistent about how they weren’t homos, so it’s not like they were going to say anything useful even if Billy had given them the chance. The point being, Billy doesn’t know what a relationship--like a real relationship between two dudes--looks like. He honestly never gave it much thought as there were too many other things to think about, like hiding shit from his dad and general fucked up dad related stuff and also what boning Harrington would be like and also some school shit, and eventually the idea of boning Harrington took up about 70% of his headspace give or take so relationship mechanics were really not his priority, not with the stupid feelings about everything that sometimes threatened to choke him if he didn’t find them an outlet.

Then suddenly he’s boning Steve Harrington and it isn’t long before Steve admits he, like...likes Billy? Billy has an urge to tell him he’s an idiot but mainly he just stares at Steve as he zips up his jeans and watches Steve chewing on his lips as he sits still naked on that big luxurious bed. The sex is really enough (a revelation in itself) and sure like internally Billy has cartoon puppies with cartoon hearts crying fat heart-shaped tears for Steve Harrington but like...that’s never been an option he’s seriously considered.

“Forget it,” Steve mumbles , because Billy leaves him hanging way too long. “I’m being stupid.”

“I like you too,” Billy blurts, flushing, and then: “I mean, ya know, you’re alright. I don’t not like you. Whatever. You’re fine. I like you fine. Not like...more than you like me. But not like less, I’m not an asshole but ya know, we can date if you want, if it’s a big deal or something then it’s...whatever sure-”

Steve interrupts him, shoving his tongue down Billy’s throat, having correctly read the fumbling red-faced speech as a passionate confession of love with all its attendant heart-eyed cartoon puppies. If he hadn’t, Billy thinks he might have kept talking, possibly into the 90’s.

So then they’re like...dating.

Parts of dating Steve are not surprising. They fuck with each other all the time, sometimes it’s foreplay or maybe it’s that Billy doesn’t know how to say stupid ridiculous things like “you make me feel special” so instead he gives Steve’s nipple a twist through his gym shirt and that night he’ll remember he did that and give that nipple particular appreciation with his tongue. Steve does that stuff too.

And other times Steve will actually says things like, “You make me feel special.” And the first couple times Billy spits something mean in response because it’s a reflex, because Steve has willingly made himself vulnerable, the dummy. But then he sees how hurt Steve is by it yet somehow it doesn’t even shut Steve up. Just a few days later, Steve says, “Laugh if you want, you do make me feel special. I want you to feel special too. So. Ya know. Fuck you, dude.”

Billy has a crack right on the tip of his tongue except that he knows it would sting Steve and it just won’t come out, it’s like he’s choking on the insult and he must look dumb because Steve grins at his expression and kissed him.

A lot of times Steve is just like a guy like as in kind of a ridiculous dickhead.

Sometimes Billy is surprised by it but maybe he shouldn’t be since Steve did reign as “King Steve” for a time. Like Steve can be crass as hell like it’s nothing, even seems to really enjoy not having to play Good Boy.

One time at lunch when Steve sees that nobody else is nearby he casually says to Billy, “I wonder what you’d look like with three dicks in your mouth.”

It’s weird because it’s the kind of thing that if any other guy at school said it, Billy would immediately sock them in the face but because it’s Steve it’s genuine flirting.

Billy snorts Mr. Pibb through his nose because he really wasn’t expecting that, he was talking about his asshole physics teacher for fuck’s sake.

Billy composes himself, wipes his nose. “Three regular dicks?” He says to Steve. “Or three of your monsters? I can’t unhinge my jaw, asshole.”

“Oooh!” Steve says. “What if I did have three dicks?”

“Guess I’d need another hole,” Billy mutters, and starts laughing so hard, he chokes on a Dorito before coughing it back up.

“Nah uh!” Steves whispers across the table. “I could fuck your mouth and your ears at the same time!”

Billy kicks him under the table. “You’re a fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Suck my jizz through a straw,” Steve cracks.

“Eat my ass,” Billy says.

“Sure yeah!” Steve nods, enthusiastic, as if rimming on school grounds is totally an option. “I could eat. I mean it is lunch time-”

“Dickhead!” But Billy is laughing, he’s laughing so hard. He has tears in his eyes. Joy, they call it. He’s pretty sure. He’s never felt like this before.

That stuff he sort of would have expected dating a dude. That and how half their shit is just crusted with jizz because they can’t keep their hands off each other and they’re not very precious about cleanliness. Steve complains about it yet never actually does the laundry. One afternoon Billy takes the time to do a wash of their stuff at Steve’s house because all their gym clothes can stand up by themselves.

But then there’s other stuff, stuff like that wide-eyed “you make me feel special” shit that Steve does that Billy would not have expected from a dude at all.

Which he supposes means maybe Steve is different. Or, ya know...special.

And, gun to his head? He doesn’t hate it…

Like when he comes over Steve puts on this little show at the door of being casual as if a buddy is coming over as Billy takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack but then the second the door is closed he’s throwing his arms around Billy and swinging him around, the momentum taking Billy off his feet as Steve laughs into his neck. It’s possibly that when Steve does that, Billy physically cannot stop smiling.

Like okay Steve said he liked him, but Billy can’t even get his head around how happy Steve is to see him whenever he’s around.

Like nobody has ever been particularly happy to see him at all. Maybe his mom when he was little?

And the little love notes Steve leaves in his locker. Some of them are filthy and some of them are sweet and he pretends they annoy him but he saves them in a box that he keeps at Steve’s place.

And there’s that time they park at the quarry when “I Want to Know What Love Is” comes on Billy’s car radio and Steve insists they slow dance and Billy makes a face.

“You’ll take my dick in your ass,” Steve says, “but what? Dancing is too gay?”

So somehow he ends up all wrapped up in Steve, slowly swaying to Foreigner.

It’s not the worst thing in the world.

Once, for a whole three days, Billy thinks Steve is about to break up with him.

It’s because when Steve kisses him, suddenly he’s frowning, almost wincing as he breaks away.

What the hell?

It sends an icy chill up Billy’s spine. But Steve doesn’t say anything, doesn't hint that anything is wrong. It’s only when he kisses Billy. Billy wonders if Steve has abruptly lost his taste for dick or something. Or for Billy’s kisses. He doesn’t ask about it, of course. He chain-smokes. For three night he can’t sleep.

Then on a Friday evening, they’re driving around in the Camaro, and Steve asks to stop at the pharmacy by Melvalds.

“Be right back,” Steve says.

Billy waits, smoking as he leans against the car, parked around the corner. Steve only takes about two minutes. He reappears without a bag, but he’s holding something in his hand as he walks up to Billy who’s standing there on the deserted sidewalk, kicking the ground because what if Steve doesn’t want him anymore? He wants to scream.

“You know what the worst part of dating a guy is?” Steve says.

Billy braces himself. So it’s the gay thing in general, he thinks. It’s too hard having to keep things quiet, having to be a little careful-

“It’s like you’ve never heard of chapstick,” Steve says, holding up a little white plastic tub of Blistex.

Billy says, “Huh?”

Steve steps up close to him, chuckling. “All the little things girls do, that guys don’t bother with, ya know? Like when you do your own laundry you always forget the fabric softener so your jeans are always kinda stiff-”

“I didn’t know you knew what fabric softener was,” Billy says. “Fabric softener is crucial,” Steve says, narrowing his eyes. “As is chapstick.”

Steve approaches him with a finger dolloped with Blistex. Billy’s head is still spinning. He jerks back. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Chill,” Steve says. “Your lips are fucked up. I’m fixing them.”

Billy, bemused, allows Steve to go over his lips with the Blistex. He looks like he’s concentrating pretty hard as he slathers Billy’s parted mouth with the stuff. It does...feel nice. Hawkins has had a chilly dry spell lately and Billy has a habit of licking his lips a lot. He noticed they were kinda chapped, he supposes, but it didn’t occur to him to buy goddamn chapstick.

“Jesus,” Billy murmurs. “You kept making faces when you kissed me. Thought you were sick a’ me or somethin’.”

“Oh no!” Steve looks distraught at that. He shoves the Blistex in Billy’s front pocket and claps his hands to Billy’s cheeks. “God no. You’re my guy!”

Billy smirks a little at that. Steve’s hands are always so soft and his thumbs are stroking Billy’s skin. “I’m your guy, huh?”

“Yeah, you’re my guy,” Steve whispers, and his sentence trails off when he kisses Billy softly. “Mmm. Much better. Lil greasy but still better.”

Billy brings his hands up to cover Steve’s wrists but he holds them there as he purses his newly moisturized lips. “Okay, I’m gonna say something. I’m gonna hate myself for saying this.”

“Ooh what?” Steve says.

“You…” Billy rolls his eyes. “Fuck. You make me feel special. Okay? Ugh. Christ.”

Steve’s plush mouth splits into a grin, the big toothy one he wears when Billy’s done something particularly good. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Billy shrugs. “Whatever.”

Steve kisses the tip of Billy’s nose and his chin. “Glad you told me that, baby. That makes me happy.”

“Well…you are my guy,” Billy says, and Steve laughs and kisses him again.

[your-iron-lung]

The Language of Birds

A man saw a bird and found him beautiful. The bird had a song inside him, and feathers. Sometimes the man felt like the bird and sometimes the man felt like a stone- solid, inevitable- but mostly he felt like a bird, or that there was a bird inside him, or that something inside him was like a bird fluttering. 

This went on for a long time.

-Richard Siken

available to read on A03 HERE

Sometimes love manifests itself as a disease; nigh incurable and invariably fatal. Hanahaki, they call it- the disease of flowers. 

Steve has lived his entire life with it, managing the symptoms as best he can until he simply can’t any longer.  He’s never met anyone else who’s suffered the same way until Billy Hargrove.

Pairing: One-sided/unrequited Harringrove

Word Count: 2349

Rating: Non-explicit

so um. an overwhelming amount of people wanted a sequel to ‘The Language of Flowers’, or at the very least a happy ending variant but uhhhhh

:^)

i am a creature that thrives off of sadness and misery im sorry

The first time it happens, he doesn’t understand why the rest of his elementary school friends run from him screaming ‘cooties!’ at the top of their lungs.

Steve holds the yellow flower petal in his hand and cries because he doesn’t understand what it means, or why it came from so deep within his itchy throat. His mom thought he’d had something called ‘strep’, but when the beautiful, kind Ms. Julia takes him to the school nurse he finds out she was wrong.

Both Ms. Julia and the nurse share a worried glance when he presents his flower petals to them. The nurse calls his mom, and for a moment Steve believes he’s in trouble, but if being in trouble means he gets to spend some extra time alone with his teacher, then, well, maybe getting into trouble is worth it.

His mom picks him up from school early, but instead of going home she takes him to an emergency doctor even though he doesn’t feel sick. She looks so scared that Steve becomes scared, worried of what he’s done wrong to prompt this trip.

He asks her what’s wrong, why the strep is causing flower petals to push up out of his throat, but she doesn’t answer; only attempts to comfort him by repeatedly saying: “It’s nothing, sweetheart, don’t worry. You’re okay.”

But the doctor disagrees with her when they finally arrive.

The doctor is young, but is already outstanding in her field. She’s the only doctor close to Hawkins that treats Hanahaki Disease, but she’s never had to treat it in a patient as young as the little Harrington boy.

“It’s rare, but not entirely unheard of,” she says to Mrs. Harrington, who has tears in her eyes and won’t take her hand away from her mouth, already grieving. Steve watches them talk from atop the examination table, holding a few of the yellow petals in his hands. They’re soft and velvety; smooth to the touch, and he doesn’t know why they should be causing his mother so much distress. “Children fall in love with things all the time; just because they’re young doesn’t mean they’re immune to their feelings.”

The doctor turns away from his mother and smiles at Steve, coaxing a shy smile from him in return.

“What’s the name of your favourite teacher at school, Steve?” she asks, and Steve’s shy smile transforms instantly into one that is so much more genuine; he even starts to giggle.

“Missus Julia.”

“Is she nice?” Steve nods, fingers tightening around the petals. “Pretty too I bet, huh?”

“Yes,” he replies. “She smiles at me every day.”

The doctor turns a knowing look to his mother, who finally takes her hand away from her mouth to speak.

“Is it- will he be okay?”

“Hanahaki is 100% treatable, but I’d like to take some x-rays to get a better idea of what we’re dealing with here.”

Steve’s mother nods, and the doctor takes him by the hand and leads him out of the room.

The technicians take the x-rays, cooing over how adorable little Steve is. The doctor of course agrees that he is, but this is a medical practice, so could they please not get too distracted? The x-rays come back quickly enough after their exchange, and the doctor is dismayed by what she sees. Steve’s condition is abnormal in more ways than one, which is saddening, because his capacity for love is so strong.

Even still, she understands his life is on the line, and the disease must be treated.

“In most cases, Hanahaki manifests itself in the host’s lungs,” she begins, speaking slowly as she pins up the x-rays to the light board for Mrs. Harrington to observe, “but in Steve’s case, it appears to have taken root in his heart-”

“His heart?!”

“Yes,” she replies calmly, aware that Steve is monitoring their reactions. “Again, it’s not untreatable, but the usual recommended surgery to remove it is invasive, and not generally recommended for a patient his age.”

Mrs. Harrington starts to cry, and the doctor really wishes she hadn’t. It’s not an ideal situation, but it’s not like her son is dead. On the examination table behind them, Steve shares in his mother’s grief and also begins to cry.

He sees the doctor off and on throughout his life. His unique condition requires routine monitoring to adjust medication doses in order to keep the flower from completely harvesting his heart, because no one wants to have to put him through the open-heart surgery to remove it. They become friends, in a word- about as good of friends as a doctor who treats a patient with a chronic heart condition can be friends- and he’s never really been unhappy to see her until his break up with Nancy.

His medicine stops working. The flowers and pain in his heart become more persistent, and he’s ashamed to admit that he breaks down in the exam room over it.

“Bullshit,” he mutters, spitting Nancy’s words out with disgust. He reaches into his mouth and pulls out a petal that’s been caught in his throat for the past hour. “It was all just bullshit to her.”

His doctor smiles a bit sardonically, and she wishes she could tell Steve that first loves often are just bullshit, but she’s not a therapist and doesn’t want to invalidate his feelings, although she knows that Nancy is just one of many in a long series of heartaches for Steve.

“How long have your symptoms been persisting?” she asks, kindly ignoring his tears as he wipes them away.

“Couple of weeks. A few months, maybe.”

“Steve.” She doesn’t bother hiding her disapproval, her brow furrowing as she admonishes him. “Months? You should’ve come sooner; you can’t afford to go months without treatment!”

“I didn’t want to believe it, alright?!” he says angrily, though most of his anger is directed towards himself for believing everything was fine in spite of the evidence. “We were happy; she told me she loved me, kept telling me she loved me, so how could I be choking up those fucking flowers if that were true?” He sniffles and looks up at the ceiling for a moment, collecting himself before he can address his physician again. “I mean, would you believe it, if someone kept saying that to you?”

Her professionalism keeps her from answering honestly.

“I would have come to see me the minute I realized my medication stopped working,” she says and sighs, studying him for a minute. That great capacity to love that he’s carried with him since he was a child is still strong, and she’s comforted by that thought, but at the same time it’s worrisome. “The growth in your heart could have advanced; we need to make sure it hasn’t.”

He touches his hand to his chest briefly, still wallowing in his sadness, and she sympathizes for him, she really does, but he’s treading a very fine line: to let the disease advance any further could result in surgery. Steve stays quiet while the x-rays get taken, and his doctor is relieved to see that the flower’s growth has been minimal. The roots have spread, yes, but it isn’t gotten to the point where he needs the surgery just yet, though there isn’t much point in fighting the inevitable.

“Don’t do this again, Steve; you’re really pushing your limits here.”

She ups the dosage on his medication and prescribes him an anti-depressant and releases him back into the world he can’t afford to love too strongly.

When Billy goes down hard on the court after being shoved violently aside in what should have been called out as a foul, everyone expects him to get back up and start a fight over it, but he doesn’t. No one’s sure what to do when he starts coughing, and Steve swears the whole gymnasium goes quiet just so they can listen to each strangled intake of breath.

His teammates cast nervous looks at each other, but no one makes a move to help him. As captain of the team, Steve takes the initiative and jogs over to his side to try and help him up. Billy brushes him aside but he persists, reaching out his hand for support but stalls when Billy throws up, a horrific mixture of blood and flowers spewing across the midcourt line.

“Holy shit dude,” he says, brown eyes blown wide at the familiar sight.

“Fuck off,” Billy hisses before fleeing the scene, leaving the mess for the Belleview High janitor to mop up so they can finish their game.

Steve watches Billy’s health deteriorate rapidly over the course of the next few weeks, and it’s like he’s seeing an alternate version of himself that decided to rot instead of seek help with treating the symptoms.

It’s agonizing seeing him like this; suffering to maintain an image that is losing value the more time that passes.

So he tells him about his doctor; about the options she provides so that maybe he doesn’t have to die if he doesn’t actually want to, because despite what he says, there’s a spark in his eye that shines when he looks at Steve that suggests he isn’t seeking death quite as hard as he lets on that he is.

In the end, he gets the treatment. Goes to see Steve’s doctor and comes back to school healthy as ever, physically. He does a good job of hiding it, but Steve can tell that, emotionally, Billy hasn’t healed, and there’s something about his sorrowful looks and how beautiful his personal tragedy is that draws Steve in, compels him to care despite his best efforts not to. Billy’s not the first boy he’s managed to develop strong feelings for, but when the flowers come back, again, he tries to tell himself that he’s wrong: there’s no way in hell he’s fallen for Billy Hargrove.

Except, the flowers are different this time.

For as long as he can remember, the flowers he’s been infected with have always been the same colour and texture: for his elementary school teacher, for his middle school crush, for the French foreign exchange boy that came to Hawkins freshman year, and even for Nancy, the flowers in his heart have always manifested themselves as soft and yellow. But the flowers he coughs up for Billy aren’t yellow, or velvety soft to the touch- no, instead he finds himself coughing up husks. Paper-thin, dried up, brittle petals that cause tears in his throat when he coughs that give the little grey shreds some colour.

When he coughs up flower petals this time, they’re dead.

He panics; what does it mean? What could it mean? It’s related to Billy in some regard, but his fear prevents him from thinking too much about it.

His medicine stops working and the coughing gets worse. Steve heeds his doctor’s prior advice and immediately goes to see her, but she isn’t as surprised as he thought she’d be.

Just like with the rest of the circumstances surrounding his variant of the disease, it’s extremely rare, but not entirely unheard of.

“It happens, from time to time,” she explains, studying one of the petals that Steve coughs up. It falls apart easily in her fingers, but has hard edges that’ve been tearing up her patient’s throat.

“Why?” Steve asks, and his voice is hoarse from the abuse it’s been enduring. “It’s never been like this before.”

His doctor tilts her hand over the little garbage bin in the room and lets the fragile petals fall in. She wipes her hand clean of the remains and then takes a seat on a little black stool, flipping through Steve’s file.

With a deep intake of breath, she sets the file aside and looks Steve in the eye. “When a patient exhibits symptoms like this, it’s because the subject of their affection physically isn’t capable of reciprocating.”

“What does that mean?” He feigns ignorance, but he understands the implication of her words.

Billy. Billy had liked him; had had real, genuine feelings for him that had eventually begun to kill him, and Steve had so callously rejected him- told him to get them cut out and to move on.

“I mean, why let yourself suffer over someone who doesn’t even like you back, right?”

But how could he have known? How could he have possibly known?

There was nothing, never an indicator that Billy could have ever liked him- except, except for all the side-long glances Steve had pretended to ignore. The way Billy always sought him out after their team won a game to softly touch him on the back in shared congratulation with a hand that always lingered a little too long. The smiles, the goading, the pathetic attempts to always be in Steve’s periphery to just be able to look at him.

His chest feels heavy, and his heart aches like the roots of his disease are strangling it when he remembers the gory mixture of flowers and blood Billy spit out for him.

“You know what it means,” his doctor says with a soft voice, watching him somberly as he blinks out a few tears. “We’re going to have to remove it now, Steve, do you understand? It’s in its final stages now.”

Steve nods, shakes his head, lets out an abrupt sob and nods again.

He lets her call his mom from her office to talk about his progress and to schedule the surgery.

Because of the severity of his operation, Steve is benched from playing in any of the remaining games his team has left in the season, but that’s fine; Steve finds it very hard to care about the sport when Billy won’t even look at him anymore. The asshole doesn’t even try to rile him up the way he used to, and half the fun of playing on a team with a man like that was the competition between them.

But now there’s nothing left.

Steve’s chest still hurts, but it’s only because he’s recovering now.

[londone-fog]

Heart Songs- Reddie Genderbent AU

AO3 Link

In which Ellie is really confused, Ruth throws a party, Bea reads some stuff, Billie does some cool skateboard tricks, Steph is secretly cool, Beau is an amazing human, and Mack just wants to have a good time.

Also prom, sort of.

Notes: Hey guys, I'm back. I really hope you like this, because I've been working on this for a while now. If you have any questions about the AU or just in general, you can find me on tumblr at either cacti-cool (main account) or londone-fog (writing account). Have fun! Edit: I changed a few things. First off, the rating is now mature as there is a masturbation scene and some non-explicit sexual content in later chapters. Second, I changed the name of the fic, as well as the chapter names. Every chapter is named after a different Weezer song, as well as the fic name. I recommend you listen to the title song as you read the chapters! Thank you for understanding!

Part One- Rosanna

Ellie Kaspbrak was what you might refer to as “aggressively ordinary.”

She was an ordinary girl, from a little ordinary town, in the ordinary state of Maine. She lived in a small house with her dad. He had a boyfriend of sorts.

She thought of that one Monday morning, staring at her reflection in her vanity mirror. Her brown hair framed her tired face, eyes gaunt from lack of sleep. She fiddled with her hands, picking at the dry skin around her knuckles before looking around her room. Her light grey walls were decorated with a few sparse photos. Her furniture was wood, with a white floral bedspread pulled loosely over the twin mattress in the corner.

Ellie’s eyes stopped to look at the clock on the bedside table with a sort of anxious anticipation. It was 7:33. Her boyfriend would be picking her up at 7:45, like he did everyday.

Ellie’s boyfriend was a strange staple in her life. His name was Mason. He was a football player from the high school team, and therefore very large. If not for the constant workouts he underwent with the rest of the team in anticipation for the next season, he might have been obese. Ellie liked him well enough. He wasn’t particularly interesting; if Ellie herself was ordinary, then Mason was downright bland.

Suddenly, Ellie’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She held her breath, but was pleasantly surprised to see it was Ruth texting her.

Garbage Human: prey tell, my swellest el, is my contact name still garbage human in your phone

Ellie: Depends on why you’re asking.

Garbage Human: well i might not be so garbage anymore ;)

The text was then followed by a picture of Ruth standing next to a car. Well, car might have been too glamorous a word. It was a bright orange monstrocity on wheels, the paint sunbleached and peeling in places. One of the wheels was missing a hubcap. There was a long crack running across the length of the windshield. And finally, squatting near the front tire, was Ruth. Her curly, bobbed hair was pulled away from her face, large wire-framed glasses sitting on the end of her upturned nose. Her mouth was pulled into a mock-serious line; dangling from her fingers were the keys.

Ellie: Please tell me that isn’t a car.

Garbage Human: el you wound me

Garbage Human: yes that is my car her name is bessie

Ellie couldn’t help but nearly roll her eyes to the back of her head. Ruth was an interesting person. She was loud, with wild dark hair and even wilder eyes. Her mouth never seemed to close, even when she wasn’t talking (which was rare). She only seemed to wear clothes that had a pattern in some way, with cigarette smell clinging to every fibre. Her knees, elbows and palms were always riddled in scrapes and bruises from countless tumbles with her longboard. Yes, Ruth was very interesting.

It was anyone’s guess as to why they were each other’s best friends.

Garbage Human: i could start giving you rides now if you want

Ellie could practically hear the secret pleading in Ruth’s voice. The truth was, Ellie hadn’t seen her friends nearly as much as she used to. Since Mason and her started dating a few months back, it seemed like more and more of her time went to humoring her boyfriend; going to games and practices and movie dates. She missed their group of seven and the time they used to spend together. Especially when it came to Ruth. That was why she barely hesitated to type out her response.

Ellie: I guess. Just promise me I won’t end up dying in that thing

Garbage Human: you have my complete honor as a cub scout

Ellie smiled to herself; a small secret thing she’d never admit to. A sudden, loud honk from outside surprised her out of her moment, her spine straightening harshly. She looked out the window to see Mason sitting in his car, the same as every morning. Ellie sighed, gathering up her supplies and racing down the stairs.

Her father sat in his chair, the television nattering on in the background. He saw her, and motioned for her to come over.

Ellie and her father had a somewhat odd relationship. This was largely in part to Ellie’s mother dying when she was young, making her father somewhat… overprotective. Their relationship had become somewhat strained the older and more independent Ellie got. He didn’t like her being around boys, but he especially didn’t like her being around Ruth. He still to that day had no idea that she even spoke to Beau Marsh.

“Do you have your inhaler?”

“Yes, dad.”

Ellie didn’t actually need an inhaler. She’d known for a long time, since she was thirteen years old. Her father didn’t know that she knew, because Ellie had never brought it up to him. It didn’t just stop at the inhaler. He’d been trying to get her to take other bullshit medicine since she was small. Now that she knew better, she’d developed a complicated series of lies and sleight of hand to avoid taking the pills.

“You took your pills too, right?”

“Yup.” She’d taken them, alright. They sat heavy in the front pocket of her overalls, like a collection of riverstones. She could safely say that her father knew next to nothing about who she really was; his “little girl” was a facade created to keep her sane.

“Alright, sweetheart. Have a good day at school.” He leaned his cheek out, and she pressed a quick peck to the stubbled skin there.

Ellie didn’t breathe until she slammed the door of Mason’s car behind her.

“Jesus, you’ll break a window doing that, Ellie. What’s got your goat this morning?” Mason said, voice riding the line between scolding and whining.

“It’s just my dad. He’s been pestering me.”

Mason sighed, a patronizing little thing.

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed. He’s just trying to protect you.” He leaned over and placed a kiss to her cheek. Ellie resisted the urge to lean away.

They’d had the fight before; Mason believed that Ellie needed to be protected. She was small, she was skinny, she was feminine. Ellie knew that none of that was true.

“Mason, I need to ask something,” Ellie said quietly, car rumbling to life and pulling away from the house.

“Hmm.”

“I, uh…” She traced the outline of her phone through her pocket. “... well, my friend just got a car. And she lives closer to my house than you do-”

“Just spit it out, already.”

“Ruth is going to start giving me rides to school. It’s just… it’s more convenient, and I don’t get to see her as much as I used to.”

The car became deathly silent.

“So I’m taking up too much of your time? Is that it?”

Ellie’s fist clenched where is lay on her leg.

“I never said that. I just said that it’s more convenient for Ruth to pick me up in the mornings.”

“Why do you even want to spend so much time with her, anyway?”

Ellie looked away from the dashboard to her whitening knuckles, where a simple band of gold lay wrapped around her little finger. It was a ring that Ruth had given her on her sixteenth birthday, to replace the plastic cereal box ring that Ellie used to wear in childhood. It was the only jewelry that she wore everyday.

“Because she’s my best friend, Mason, and she lives closer to me than you do. Nothing more.”

The outline of the high school was rapidly approaching, and Ellie felt a little tension leak out of her body. Mason rubbed a thick hand over his face, letting out a long tired sigh.

“You know what, fine. Fine. On one condition.”

Ellie unclenched her hand slowly, quietly syphoning the air out of her body.

“What’s that?”

Mason quickly jerked the car into the parking lot, the sound of old soda cans clattering around the back seat as they pulled to a somewhat jarring stop. He pulled up the parking brake and rounded on Ellie with all the surprise of a tiger leaping from the bushes. He placed a meaty hand on her shoulder as if to keep her there, pinned, with no option but to listen to him.

“Go to prom with me.”

“What?”

“I don’t care who the hell gets you to school, as long as you say you’ll go with me.”

Ellie stared into Mason’s eyes, a nearly clear blue. Basically colorless, like looking through window and seeing absolutely nothing on the other side. Devoid of any personality or interest. She could feel her throat closing and her eyes sting, and she wondered briefly if she was going into anaphylaxis.

She wanted so badly to say no. She wanted to run out of this car and never come back. Maybe she’d just suffocate from anxiety right then.

“Sure, sounds great Mason.”

What the fuck am I saying? What is wrong with me? she thought as Mason leaned in and kissed her; it was sloppy and hit the corner of her mouth more than her actual lips. She quickly pulled away, muttering some sort of farewell as her feet hit the asphalt.

The parking lot was filled to the brim with students and shitty cars. Ellie kept her eyes to the ground, white knuckling the straps of her backpack as strangers hollered all around her. She only looked up when she heard the characteristic bark of her best friend’s laugh.

The loser’s club, as it had been known for years, consisted of the most ragtag group of teens that Derry, Maine had to offer. They all stood around Ruth’s new car, which was even more horrible in person. Billie Denbrough, their unofficial leader, was making a valiant effort to let loose with a would-be impressive string of cuss word from her place on the ground. Closer inspection showed a new hole torn in the knee of her jeans, with blood weakly dripping from the wound. Her trusty skateboard lay upended a few feet away. Ruth, as opposed to helping their friend, was laughing so hard she was nearly bent in half, black hair falling over her face. The other losers stood around in a sort of shell shocked state, not sure whether to help Billie or laugh along with Ruth.      

They all seemed to make up their minds the closer that Ellie got.

Bea rushed to check Billie’s knee, Mackenzie following with chuckle. Beau held out a hand, which Billie used to hoist herself to her feet. Steph stayed firmly in place, arms crossed with a stern look and secret smile in her eye. Ruth was practically on the ground herself at that point, Ellie’s shadow reaching across her as she approached.

“Ruth, you fucking idiot, what did you do this time?” Ellie asked, already rummaging through her bag for a band aid.

“Our darling Billie Jean can’t even do a kickflip without busting her ass,” Ruth said once she caught her breath.

“I c-c-can t-t-too, you a-a-a-fuck. I d-did this m-morning.”

Ellie shook her head, leaning down to press a bandage over the wound. If she’d been home, she would have dowsed it in hydrogen peroxide and used real gauze and bandage, but this would have to do. It was probably best, considering how dry and cracked her hands were these days.

“Thanks E-ellie,” Billie finally said.

And, at that, the bell for first period rang out, abruptly ending all shenanigans. Ellie slung her bag back over her shoulder, trying to ignore the itch under her skin from being so close to another person’s blood. Luckily, the thought was knocked out of her head by the slap of a hand against her shoulder.

“So, you seem tense. Did you have to flush yourself down the toilet to even get out of the house this morning?”

“Shut the hell up Ruth, I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

She didn’t have to look to know that Ruth’s permanent smile had faltered. Her hand went from a heavy weight to a soft comfort in a matter of seconds. In a rare moment of genuity, Ruth dropped her voice so only Ellie could hear.

“You okay, El? Is it your dad or…?”

“No, no, not really. Just kinda stressed out. And for the last time, stop calling me that. That’s a kid nickname.”

“Yeah, not happening. I know you secretly love it. You’ll thank me someday.”

She paused a moment to chew on her bottom lips, allowing a scarce ray of anxiety to shine through.

“You know what’ll make you feel better? I’m driving the losers to the quarry today, break in Bessie and all that. I know you’re probably busy with your boy toy, but you’re more than welcome to come.”

Ellie’s stomach dropped. She wanted so badly to see her friends, but she felt obligated to see Mason after everything that happened that morning. But one look at her friend’s face, and she knew where she should really be.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Ruth’s eyes lit up, and her mouth cracked open in a wide grin.

“Oh, Ellie-Belly, you won’t regret it. I knew you wouldn’t miss the chance to see my blinding white thighs.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, but allowed Ruth to throw an arm around her shoulders as they walked to class.

---

Ellie had never been a fan of spit.

She distinctly remembered the first time she’d had a panic attack. She had been about seven years old, and some boy in her class had decided it was the perfect time to let loose with a spit glob worthy of the gods. Unfortunately, Ellie had been standing near enough to be in the splash zone. It somehow was so much different than playing loogie at the quarry with with Billie and Ruth. This time, there was a wet splatter across the skirt of her jumper, and she lost it. Some combination her fathers instilled fear of germs and her own anxious tendencies brought about a cascade of tears and snot. It took a trip the restroom with both Ruth and Billie to get her to calm down enough to go back to recess.

Ellie thought of this as she sat in Mason’s car after school, his tongue making a valiant attempt to fight her tonsils.

This was an activity that took up much of her time after school. She’d never admit it to herself, but it was probably one of her least favorite parts of the day. Ellie genuinely struggled with physical contact; she’d gotten used to the losers touching her, but anyone else made her uncomfortable. Kissing Mason fell under the umbrella of uncomfortable.

Mason, on the other hand, was having a great time. Ellie was pushed further and further into the seat as he grew more and more eager. His hand was wrapped loosely around her thigh.

Ellie’s eyes opened, trying to look at the time on the clock and pretend she was interested in kissing. It was 3:24. School had ended nearly thirty minutes ago. The losers had all surely left to go to the quarry by then.

Suddenly, as if her mind had been read, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She slowly, carefully, reached her hand into her pocket to pull the phone out and held it behind Mason. The message was from Steph, saying that she needed to get to the quarry ASAP. Apparently Ruth wouldn’t stop complaining that Ellie had abandoned them.

Ellie’s mind was quickly snatched from the message when she the hand on her thigh move to cup her breast. She pulled away quickly, smacking Mason’s hand away.

“What? I thought you liked that.” he whined.

She didn’t like it. There was never a time where she said she did. Ellie tried to quickly think of an excuse.

“I, uh…”

“Come on, don’t be nervous.” Mason reached over and fiddled with one of the buckles on her overalls, trying to subtly unhook the button from the catch. An idea suddenly appeared in Ellie’s mind, and she pushed his hand away again.

“Uh, I’m wearing overalls.”

Indeed she was. They were her favorite pair, with the floral appliques on the legs that Steph had ironed on for her.

“What does that have to do with anything.”

“Well, uh, that would violate my rule.”

Ellie had the forethought when her and Mason started dating to put a rule in place: He was not allowed to touch her underneath her clothes, specifically when it came to pants.

“How’s that?”

“Overalls are like a shirt/pants combo. That breaks the rule.”

She could tell that it was a half-baked excuse, and Mason knew it too. His eyebrow was raised in confusion, but he relented and moved away. Ellie breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’ve been acting strange today.”

“No I haven’t”

Silence. Mason sighed, scrubbed at his face with his hand.

“Look, I have to do some conditioning today. You can either walk home or stay and watch. It’s up to you.”

Ellie resisted the urge to pump her fist in victory.

“I’d like to stay, but I have a lot of homework. Maybe tomorrow?”

Mason nodded, but Ellie was already out of the car.

She didn’t start running until she was sure he couldn’t see her anymore.

A genuine smile burst across her face as she pumped her legs. The air was beginning to warm, spring chill giving way to summer heat. The end of junior year was rapidly approaching, and the feeling of true freedom spurred Ellie on as she raced toward the quarry.

[film-in-my-soul]

Stuck Together - Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier (side Billy Denbrough/Stanley Uris)

Word Count: 4190 (it just… I don’t what happened…)

Warnings: Warnings: So there’s a bit of sadness in the middle but that’s it.

Request: Anon: Can you please do a reddie soulmate au fic? The one where it is impossible to lie to your soulmate. But like, that doesn't come into affect until they know they're soulmates? Okay so hear me out. Maybe you only know who your soulmate is when a matching tattoo appears after a significant moment together or something like that? You can mess with it if you'd like but just something along those lines maybe? Thank you so much!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I decided to go with the second part of the request because while I understand what you mean I think the markings appearing after sharing a significant moment was something I could work with better and make something a bit longer. I threw some side Stenbrough in there. Hope you don’t mind.

Also I know I really downplayed Eddie’s mom’s mania over her sons well being but honestly so much wouldn’t have worked in this fic if I didn’t. Sorry that she’s a bit ooc.

Also thank you so much to @wyattghouleff for looking over the fic and coming up the name when I was struggling!

Requests OPEN

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first one to notice that something had changed is Stan.

It was three weeks after everything that had happened. After they, hopefully, killed a clown in the bowls of Derry itself. Since Stan had almost died, since Henry Bowers “disappeared” and the town Sheriff apparently bleeding to death in his living room. It’s been three weeks since Eddie was convinced that he and all his friends were going to end up alongside the other missing children in their fucked up little town. Floating until they were nothing but rotting flesh and bone and maggots.

The thought alone made his stomach roll and his anxiety rocket right up.

More importantly, it’d been three weeks since he stood up to his mother and the tight reins that she’d constantly lead him around by had loosened.

He, Eddie Kaspbrak, was now allowed to have friends over. That being said, Stan was usually allowed over regardless, considering he was thought to be the least bad influence on Eddie in his mother's eyes. Still, Bill had gotten to come over and stayed the night the week before and much to Eddie’s endless surprise Richie had been allowed past the front door, instead of having to resort to climbing through Eddie's window under the veil of night.

Oh, his mother still tried to make him take his bullshit pills which he simply refused but he figured that he still carried everything else around in his fanny pack and with that she was appeased.

Right. Change. Stan.

It was three weeks later when the curly haired boy cleared his throat, back against Eddie’s bedroom wall, legs hanging off the side of his bed and a book flipped open on his lap, one that Eddie was sure Stan hadn’t actually been reading since they’d hurried up to his room.

Eddie turned his head so to look at his friend, waiting for him to continue while trying to scratch an itch stubbornly just beyond where his fingers could reach under his cast.

Stan was caught between looking at Eddie and his book. “Majestic Birds of the New England Area.”

“I uh, I think…” slowly his cheek began coloring pink near the top and his fingers reached up, fiddling with one of his curls. Eddie could tell that whatever Stann was trying to say he was nervous about. Stan only actively messed with his hair if he was nervous. “I think I have a soulmark.”

The pencil that Eddie was trying to write with dropped from his suddenly slack grip and his mouth fell open in surprise. Stan became ever redder, his legs drew up so that his knees were close to his chest and he could wrap his arms around them, bird book squashed uncomfortably between them and his chest.

“No fucking way.” Is what Eddie managed to get out after a tense moment of silence. Stan looked like he wanted to laugh and be sick at the same time, face instead settling into his neutral mask while he watched Eddie process the information he’d been given.

There was another moment of quiet when Eddie finally stood up.

“Show me.”

Hesitantly. Stan uncurled his legs and scooted to the edge of the bed, Eddie sat down beside him but Stan shuffled away so that was space between their sides. Eddie didn't really get why at first until Stan's hand went to the hem of his shirt, tugging up until the fabric was pulled high enough to expose the bottom of his ribs.

Right there, above where Eddie knew Stan’s “floating rib” should sit was two hands, palm to palm, fingers laced together.

“Oh shit.” Once again, not the eloquence that Eddie would have like to speak with, but really, he was all too surprised. None of the Losers, to his knowledge at least, had a soulmark. It wasn't something that was super uncommon but definitely a rarity among younger kids not even in highschool yet.

“Yeah,” Stan replied, his voice whispery as his fingers moved to draw across the little soul tattoo on his body.

“Do you know-”

“No,” Stan said, tenser than he’d been the moment before. He dropped the end of his shirt from his hand and began to fiddle with a curl again. Eddie wanted to offer some kind of comfort for him but he just couldn’t think of what to do. “You know,” Stan continued, “you’re actually the first person I’ve told.”

They lapse into the silence again.

“Oh, uh, wow…” Eddie really didn't know what to say to that. He looked down at his hands, clasped together on his lap and then to his cast before migrating his gaze back to still his embarrassed friend. "Why?” Because while Stan and Eddie were good friends and had been for a long time Eddie figured that the taller boy would have told Bill first.

While Eddie was thinking this Stan didn't respond, looking like he was caught up in his own head at the moment.

Oh.

“Oh.” Eddie gets it in a sudden and almost imperceivable connection of dots. Of course, Stan wouldn’t tell Bill first. “You didn’t want to tell Bill first because if he doesn’t have one that means he’s not your soulmate right?” He asks it quietly because his walls are thin and if his ma heard him talking about this kind of thing she probably wouldn’t take too kindly to letting Stan up in Eddie’s room anymore.

Of course, same-sex soul marks are just as common as any other but this was Derry and stuff like that is kept under wraps and out of the faces of people who might not be as accepting of others. Like Eddie’s mother.

A shudder went through his body at the thought of her finding out about him and what preferences he was starting to notice about himself.

Eddie thought he heard a sniffle from his right and remembered, this isn’t about him. Stan needed him right then like how he needed him in the tunnels. Like they’ve all always needed each other.

When Eddie looked he could tell that Stan was trying to hold back frustrated tears, his hands now fisted into Eddie’s comforter on either side of his legs and his bottom lip caught between his teeth, breath shuddering out in careful bursts.

Eddie did the only thing he could think of and slung his arm around Stan’s shoulders. Eddie usually didn't like touching people but his friend required this comfort and Eddie was able to give it to him so he did.

It was another three weeks when they’re all at the Quarry together, Eddie with bags under his eyes. So much had changed since Stan told him about his soul mark but one constant that remained was Eddie’s nightmare plagued dreams. They woke him up at all hours and refused to let him settle back down into sleep.

Visions of lepers, hundreds of them swarming to get him, of blood-soaked clowns dancing around his body, and of his friends, all white-eyed and hovering off the ground, like Bev had been.

One of the biggest changes was that apparently, the majority of The Losers Club had developed little marks like Stan’s.

Ben had been the first to reveal his mark to the group a day after Stan had done the very same with Eddie. His mark was on his shoulder, close-up like it wanted to crawl toward his collar instead. It was an orange flame. Everyone wanted to touch it, Eddie and Stan feigning awe at the little tattoo.

Bev was the last to feel the smooth patch of color and when her fingers brushed over the little flame, something completely unexpected and crazy happened.

A flame of her own bled into existence on the back of her hand, slow, like it was taking the time to bleed into every layer of her skin until it was just as vibrant as Ben’s. Soulmates.

Eddie spared a glance to Bill, knowing that he probably wasn’t taking the news all too well. The boy’s expression was sour but under it accepting of the truth, his hand up by his heart, clenching and unclenching unconsciously over the fabric of his shirt. Stan went to stand beside Billy in silent support. Eddie noted a bit of the tension he’d been holding the day before dripping away from his shoulders.

Eddie guessed when your biggest competition was someone else's soulmate it was a bit easier to hope that your crush might just be yours.

There was some debate running around as to why the mark had taken so long to form and why at different times. All anyone really knew for sure that a shared experience was what tied soulmates together.

Unfortunately, that could mean anything and it didn’t help Eddie narrow down who Stan’s might be. He could have bumped into someone and apologized, thanked a young clerk at the grocery store, talked to a neighbor boy for the first time, killed a clown with his group of friends.

Eddie hoped for Stan’s sake it was the latter of those options because then that, at least, brought the options to three, Bill, Mike or…Richie. Eddie practically shook the twist in his stomach away. He knew that Stan and he couldn’t be soul mates, Eddie had done an extensive check of his body, no mark to be found and he figured if it was going to be a delayed thing it would have happened like Bev’s had.

A week passed from Ben's reveal and while the group of friends was waiting by the ice cream truck Richie came tearing down the main street, hollering, swerving dangerously into a stop in front of them before practically throwing himself off his bike.

“Dudes, dudes, I got one! I got one too!” For a beat everyone was confused. Then dread began to pool in the middle of Eddie’s stomach, cold and heavy like a ball of ice. He turned to look at Stan, swallowing harshly as the curly haired boy looked back, equally terrified.

Eddie felt like he needed his inhaler.

Richie didn’t give his friends any time to really ask anything, already reaching for the top of his ratty jeans by his hip, pulling down the fabric just enough for them all to see the little design against the jutting bone.

It looked like a roll of white tape.

For some reason the chilling dread doesn’t lift from Eddie’s chest, only clenched tighter like a vice. At least he didn't match with Stan, and out of the corner of his eye, Eddie could see the boy sagging with relief as they shared the same thought.

Everyone took turns touching it and when Eddie placed the tips of his fingers to the mark it seems like maybe both he and Richie were holding their breath. It was probably just his imagination though. Nothing happened and Richie thought for a painful moment his heart might actually be breaking when he pulled away from his best friend. He swallowed down the numbing hurt and give a faint “neat,” before going back to where he’d left his and Richie’s ice cream.

Stan gave him such an understanding look that it made Eddie want to punch him. But it wasn't his fault so he didn't.

And now they were all at the Quarry. Eddie didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but he’d been intentionally spending time away from Richie. It sucked but really, feeling like there was glass in his heart, sharp points of pain that were hard to breathe around, sucked just as much. He couldn't avoid a group hang out though. Besides, his ma would think she was winning the battle if he stayed cooped up in the house for too long.

They were all at the water’s edge, Ben and Beverly sitting together with their legs in the water.

Eddie was sitting with Stan, watching Bill, Mike and Richie converse, something like an argument brewing over the fact that Bill apparently didn't want to go swimming.

“Come on Bill,” Richie said loudly, drawing out the second word like some kind of child. “We came here to swim so let’s swim.”

“You gu-guys can g-g-g do it. I’m f-f-fine.” He crossed his arms over his torso. Something was fishy about the whole thing, Bill loved swimming with everyone.

“Dude, seriously? You’ve been buggy all week. Just hop in with us for a bit?” When Richie was being sincere there wasn't much that Billy can do but give in. He was just that kind of person.

“Ugh, f-fine.” Richie didn't bother to hold back his triumphant smirk, him and Mike already pulling off their clothes to get into the water.

Almost insecurely Billy started to draw his shirt over his head. Eddie watched the odd behavior, Stan beside him, looking off into the forest with his binoculars, scouting for birds. If Richie hadn’t turned back to Bill and shouted: “dude what the fuck?!” Eddie might not have noticed anything at first and Stan surely wouldn’t have startled and whipped around, a scowl on his face to reprimand Richie.

They were both stopped short by what was on Bill’s chest.

Even from this distance, Eddie knew what it was because he’d seen it before.

Right above where Bill's heart would just behind his ribs was a soulmark.

Two hands, palms touching, fingers laced together.

Beside him, he could hear Stan’s binoculars dropping to the ground with a careless thunk.

Eddie could barely hear what was being said from the trio ten feet away.

“- ju-just did-didn’t think it wa-wa-was that import-t-tant.”

The crystal cold feeling wormed its way into Eddie’s chest, looping through his bones and seizing his limbs. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling like that, not when Stan was probably going to break down with happiness but Eddie couldn't help it really. In some sick way, he had been almost glad that Stan’s mark didn’t match with anyone because that meant he was feeling what Eddie was feeling, and now Eddie was alone with that feeling because Stan’s mark did match someone. It matched Bill Denbrough, basically the love and Stan’s life and Eddie, Eddie didn’t get to have that.

Eddie and Stan picked themselves up from the ground, Richie was dragging a flustered, shirtless Bill over to their small fraction of The Losers Club.

“Guys look-”

“Beep beep Richie,” Stan’s voice was surprisingly steady when he cut the other boy off and took a step forward. A hush fell over the entire group. The thick energy filling the air seemed to be reaching all of them. It was almost like with Bev and Ben when Stan looked pointedly at Bill’s mark and then into his eyes.

Bill was slack-jawed, expression open as an understanding passed between them. Stan's partially worried expression lightened, the corners of his mouth pulled up into a smile, Bill’s expression did the same and it was all too much for Eddie. He couldn't take it. He really couldn't. Because after everything, the gray water, the leper, the fucking clown, and Richie’s unmatched mark that Eddie didn't have, he really couldn't handle anymore.

He stepped back from the circle that had started to form around Stan and Billy. Unfortunately, Eddie tripped over a small rock in his haste and drew the attention away from the new pair of soulmates and onto himself.

“I uh, I gotta get home,” he kept backing up as he said it, “I’m getting the cast removed tomorrow so I gotta go home and rest up so yeah.” Eddie wouldn't say that he ran away exactly but he wasn’t slow about his retreat.

The pressure that had been building up in his chest was getting too tight and Eddie wanted to cry but he wouldn't, he couldn't.

The sound of someone coming up the trail behind him gave Eddie reason to pause. He didn’t though, just continued to trudge up toward the road so he could walk home.

“Dude! Eds, wait up!” Richie called from behind him. Eddie felt the claws in his chest sink harder, not even able to call back for the other to not call him that.

Richie’s footsteps grew louder as he raced to catch up with the other boy. Eddie didn’t want to run but the urge was there. He could not deal with this, with Richie, right now. A hand reached forward and fingers curled around Eddie’s arm, right above his cast. Richie pulled him to a stop and Eddie spun around, yanking his arm away from Richie’s grasp.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

“Eds what the hell was that back there?” Richie sounded more concerned than Eddie had been expecting. He'd been like that since the tunnels, still Richie but almost more considerate. Eddie bristled at the tone. He'd much rather have Richie trying to make a joke at his expense then whatever he was doing at the moment.

“Nothing, like I said, I need to get home,” the excuse even sounded weak to his own ears. Richie gave a single bark of sarcastic laughter and rolled his eyes.

“Right. Since when are you listening to her mom again?” Eddie wanted to retort but Richie just kept going in the way that he always did. “It this about Stan and Bill’s soul marks? Is it ‘cause they didn’t tell you or because they match each other? Is it cause you don’t have one?” Eddie felt his body tense almost automatically for as unobservant as Richie usually was, he noticed the change immediately, the effect of his words being so close to the truth. “Really Eds is that it, I mean -”

Eddie’s fingers were curled up at his sides into tight fists.

“Beep fucking beep Richie,” and surprisingly it worked.

Eddie wondered as he turned around and stormed out onto the main road toward his house, Richie left standing there, shocked still, if it was because of the harsh tone he’d used or the way his eyes were glossy with unshed tears. Maybe it was the tremble in his lip or the way his shoulders were starting to shake that made Richie stop. Eddie didn't know and really Eddie didn't care because he needed to get to the safety of his bedroom before he broke down. Smack in the middle of Derry is not where he'd want anyone to see him turn into a crybaby.

He made it home in record time and managed to avoid his mother on his way up the stairs.

The next day as he was loaded up into his ma’s car on the way to the hospital his eyes are rimmed harshly with red and thankfully the older women next to him didn't say anything about how it was clearly from crying. She only went so far as to remind her son to take his allergy pill.

Both Stan and Richie had tried calling a number of times the night before. Sometime around midnight, he thought he could hear the tell-tale clacking of pebbles against his window, Richie trying to get his attention. Eddie had simply rolled, facing away from the locked window and clutched a pillow over his head, begging the nightmares to drag him into a restless sleep so he wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. Anything to put the day behind him.

Getting his cast off was terrifying, he had to look away when the doctor and nurse brought out the saw. He knew through extensive research that the blade was dull and moved in a way that it won’t actually touch him. He still couldn't watch when he heard the whirring sound of the blade started up.

The process was painless, only a dull tickling sensation over his arm as the cast vibrated and subsequently split in two. The nurse went to work wiping down his arm while his doctor looked over where the break had been before even though they had already done an x-ray to confirm that all was as it should be.

It was only when his arm was turned over to inspect the underside did his nurse let out a faint and surprised “oh!”

“Oh?” Eddie questioned, his voice cracking with panic. “Oh, what?”

He was thankful that his mother wasn’t in the room with him when it was revealed what the women holding his arm had seen.

A white roll of tape on the inside of his wrist.

Eddie didn’t know if what he was feeling was the actual overpowering relief flooding his veins or that fact that he might pass out any second.

The rest of the checkup went as planned and Eddie managed to get his spinning mind under control to answer his doctor's questions. When his ma came to collect him Eddie was waiting for the moment that the nurse or his physician would tell her about his little soul mark. Neither of them did and his mother thankfully didn’t examine his arm.

Once he was home Eddie wasted no time what so ever. Going for his slightly dusty bike, chain creaky from disuse, the boy popped back the kickstand, and against his mother's loud and worried protests rode out of his driveway and toward Richie’s house.

As he rode Eddie wondered if Stan had felt like this when he’d seen his mark matching perfectly over Bill’s heart. It felt like a warm pulse was thrumming through his body and the only thing on his brain, playing over and over again on a loop was “Richie Tozier is my soulmate, Richie Tozier is my soulmate, Richie Tozier is my fucking soulmate…”

Richie’s house was normally a ten-minute bike ride away. Eddie made it in seven.

Without a care for his beloved mode of transportation, Eddie threw his bike down and hurried up the porch to Richie’s front door. He wasn’t surprised to see that both of the Tozier’s cars were out. They were almost never home.

Eddie knocked on the door, three times in loud succession. He heard the sound of stomping feet approaching and took the few seconds it would take Richie to open to door to feel nervous. A fluttering wave of nausea over the thought that maybe, regardless of what having a soulmate really was, Richie wouldn't want Eddie to be his.

Once the door was swung back and Richie could take in the sight of his friend, Eddie wasn’t scared anymore. If Stan could do it then so could he.

Richie crossed his arms around his middle looking both worried and miffed simultaneously.

“Are you here to yell at me more?” He was trying to sound indifferent but Eddie new when his best friend was putting up a front.

Not saying anything Eddie held his arm out, wrist facing up toward Richie who just rose a brow in confusion at the shorter boy before glancing down and freezing, his whole body becoming statuesque as he stared, wide-eyed through coke bottle glasses at the tape (which Eddie now recognized as medical tape) soul mark on his wrist.

Richie only had time for his lips to curl into a smile and the tips of his fingers to brush over Eddie’s mark before the other was stepping forward into his space, clutching a handful of his shirt by the already stretched collar and tugging him down.

Richie was surprised enough by the sudden action that he didn’t even register for a moment that Eddie’s mouth was now on his and that they were technically kissing, or, well, Eddie was kissing him. Once he did realize Richie closed his eyes and pressed his lips back to Eddie’s chapped ones.

As first kisses went Eddie hadn’t known what he’d been expecting. Probably not the uncomfortable glasses digging into his face, or Richie’s nose pressed almost harshly against his own, nor the faint hint of Cheetos mingled between their mouths. Regardless of those little things Eddie had to admit it was kind of perfect.

He pulled away and Richie smiled at him, leaning down again to reconnect their lips.

First kisses might be perfect, Eddie thought to himself, but second, and third and fourth ones were just as good.

[cockasinthebird]

“Truth or dare?”

“What?”

When it was time to go home from yet another high school party, both Billy and Steve had agreed that they're definitely too wasted to drive, and Steve doesn't live that far away, and the sky is clear with a near full moon, stars painting the black above.

“Come on Stevie, I'm bored and the silence will literally put me asleep,” Billy blurts out far too loud, and swings back another sip of his beer.

In his other hand, he holds on to Steve,

Who's trying to balance on the edge of the sidewalk, normally not something all that dangerous, but given how everything dances around him, it's best to have a safety net in hand. Billy's hand. Clasped tightly and warmly. But they're both too far gone to realize.

“Fine,” Steve gives in, his gaze locked on his feet as he concentrates. “I gotta say I don't trust you enough to do a dare; I know how reckless you can be, so truth.”

“Hm, boring.” Billy smiles never the less. “What's your favorite color?”

And at that, Steve stops walking on the curb like he's a dancer on a tight rope. He moves up to where Billy's waiting, patiently, and smiles right back at him. “Really, Hargrove? We've been best friends for who knows how long, and you don't even know my favorite color?”

Their shoulders bump together, eyes stuck in a staring contest, hands lingering. “I'm not a very good listener,” Billy chuckles.

Moves his hand out of their grasp to run it through his hair. And even as he looks away, face flushed from the alcohol and lips wet with the taste of beer, Steve keeps staring. He can count the freckles from here as clearly as the stars in the sky.

“Blue.”

Billy turns to catch his gaze again.

“Blue is my favorite color,” Steve repeats with more intent; wants to be certain that Billy hears it this time.

And Billy hears him. Licks his lips clean, and maybe his face grows a bit more red, maybe he's suddenly so shy about meeting brown with blue, as he looks at the road ahead.

“Your turn,” Steve says and bumps their shoulders together. “Truth or dare?”

“Guess I'll say truth too, since we're being huge pussies tonight,” he laughs and bumps right back.

Steve's eyes fall a bit as they walk side by side. Billy's shirt is unbuttoned as always, showing off the tan pecs he works tirelessly on. “Do you wax your chest?”

Billy grins and sticks out his tongue. He bites briefly on it before nodding. “Yeah, but it's not the only thing I wax.” Winks at how Steve's staring, honeyed eyes goes from his bare chest to where his lips curl around the beer again.

“I don't need to know more than that,” Steve laughs, face red from embarrassment as if he's been caught doing something he's not supposed to. And perhaps he isn't. “I'll say truth again.”

“Have you ever walked in on your parents doing it?” Billy had that one ready real quick, and continues grinning wide.

And Steve laughs, a sound that quickly falters to something... somewhat pained. “Yeah, but... not with each other.”

Silence is quick to settle between them as Billy's drunken mind has to figure out just what that means, when-

“Oh.” They both look ahead. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-”

“No, no it's... it's ok, don't worry about it.” Steve tries for a smile, but it lacks that spark of joy. “So, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Hmm...” Steve hums in thought and runs a hand through his hair, before looking at Billy with a raised brow. “What's the first thing you'd do if you woke up as a woman?”

Billy's laugh is a pleasure to hear, and he looks at Steve with a knowing grin. “Oh I would find the nearest clean dick, and ride it till my pussy broke.”

And Steve can't keep his own guffaws down, throws his head back to let it out. “Of course you would!”

“What, like you wouldn't?!”

“Of course I would! What guy wouldn't just go chasing whatever available cock just to try.”

Billy's grin twists into something more... mischievous, and he bites down on his tongue. “You make it sound like something you've considered before, princess,” he teases.

Words that makes Steve's inviting lips part, gaze quickly looking down at Billy's bawdy, crooked smirk, then up before he's caught staring too long again. “Wouldn't you like to know.”

He would. But instead, he says, “Come on, pick dare this time, I promise I won't make you run down the street naked or anything! I dare you to pick dare.”

“Fine.” Steve cannot possibly be expected to deny Billy that pleasure; not when he's practically begging. “I choose dare.”

“Well, then I dare you to sing.”

“Sing?” Steve cocks a brow. Grateful and relieved that that's all.

“Yeah, just, sing me something.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.” Billy nods with a smile, ready to laugh his ass off.

“Okay, but don't forget you asked for this, right?”

“Right.”

So Steve takes a few long steps to get ahead of Billy, and grant him some mercy from what he's about to hear. But he did ask for it.

Then he whips around and points at Billy. “Won't you come see about me? I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby.”

Billy's cheeks hurts from smiling this wide, eyes just as expansive, as he watches Steve rather awkwardly move and “dance” with no music.

“Tell me your troubles and doubts-”

Oh.

“Giving me everything inside and out and, love's strange, so real in the dark-”

Oh.

“Think of the tender things that we were working on.”

Oh no.

It doesn't sound terrible; he's not going to make it in the music business if that was ever an idea, but it's... not as bad as Billy thought it would be. It's actually kinda... nice. Maybe if Steve wasn't super blasted on all the numerous things he's consumed tonight, it could be good.

Steve's voice excites his heart far too much.

“I'm not- I'm not gonna sing you the whole song,” Steve laughs and hides his face behind hands.

“Yeah, no,” Billy manages to utter and takes a final sip of his beer. “I've definitely heard enough.”

“Shut up, I warned you!” Steve smiles brightly and falls back into a rhythm with Billy, as they continue staggering home. “So, truth or dare?”

“I'll take a dare too.”

“Alright...” Steve looks around the sleeping street as he considers his options. When they pass by a house with the most gorgeous front yard, and his lazy smile turns for the worse. “Ok, I dare you to piss on that flowerbed.”

And Billy follows the way Steve's pointing, to a row of yellow somethings, what does he look like, a gardener? “You want me to... piss on a strangers flowers?”

“Yup,” he pops the p.

“Isn't that illegal or something?” Billy turns to look at Steve, who huffs out a little laugh.

“I dunno, but has that ever stopped you from doing something before?” He crosses his arms and waits expectantly.

Well, he does have to pee, but this is just... “Turn around.”

“What?” Steve laughs incredulously.

“Turn around!” Billy shoves at his shoulder. “I'm not about to whip my dick out and take a piss in front of you!”

“It's not like I haven't seen it before!”

“Oh so you're admitting to taking a look in the showers?” Billy feigns shock, as he knows Steve's been looking. Billy's been looking, too.

But Steve simply scoffs and turns 180 degrees. Hears the zipper, soon followed by a familiar splashing sound.

“So, truth or dare?”

“You don't... you don't wanna finish first?” Steve stutters awkwardly.

“Come on, Harrington, just pretend we're standing at the urinals or something. Truth or dare?”

“Uhh, truth.”

“What's the naughtiest thing you've done in public?” the grin on his face ardently clear in his tone, as Billy watches his steady stream knock down a flower.

And Steve hesitates to answer, but they're drunk enough for it to seem harmless to say, “I once got a blowjob in a drive-in cinema.”

A loud snicker escapes from Billy. “From who? Nancy? Can't imagine little miss perfect being ok with that.”

“For your information, no, I never asked her to do anything like that.” Steve shakes his head, but he keeps smiling. Cheeks warm with the memory of lips around him so publicly, the sounds and imagery of it still so vivid, it could excite him too much right now. “But that's it, I answered, you can't ask me about it any further, ok?”

“Yeah fine, don't get your panties all in a twist,” Billy groans and rolls his eyes.

“So are you done soon, or?” Steve plants his hands on his hips and strikes a rather impatient pose.

“Hold on, lemme just...” And the zipper goes back up.

He then pats Steve on the back and moves his hand up to squeeze by his shoulder.

“I take truth, if you're just gonna waste the dare on stupid shit like that.”

“Well it sounded like you really needed it, so-”

“I said truth, pretty boy, come on.”

Steve laughs at the irritation by the edge of Billy's voice, and turns his head to look at how close he's standing, shoulder by chin.

But Billy's set in just staring straight ahead, ignoring how near they are.

“What's the dumbest thing you've ever done?”

And there isn't an answer for a good long while; it feels almost as if they're just silently passing underneath streetlights for minutes, Billy's heart working overtime as it thrashes around in his chest.

He almost looks... scared, when he says, “Fallen in love.” And he doesn't meet Steve's gaze. Can't look at him now, not when his entire soul just feel so... vulnerable.

“So,” his voice suddenly all rusty, and he clears his throat. “Truth or dare?”

“Give me another dare, then!” Steve says with an upbeat tone, trying to keep the mood between them light, because it'll be all too easy to drink their sorrows away once they reach his home, and that's just... depressing.

He doesn't think twice about it when Billy stops walking, stands dead beneath one bright lamp. Not until he's several feet ahead, and turns with confusion written across his brows. “Billy are you ok-”

“I dare you to kiss me.” It feels like Billy's heart is about to break his ribs from the inside, stomach a hurricane of fire, but the words are out there now, and there's nothing he can do but wait.

Wait a whole two seconds, before Steve nearly runs at him, grabs him by that broad jaw, fingers dipping into golden curls, and lips softer than he could ever have dreamed. Billy has to take a step back or they'd fall onto the sidewalk here, Steve pressing into him with such unexpected vigor, as if he's the one who's been waiting impatiently for this opportunity.

The empty bottle clinks against the concrete below, as Billy swings both arms tightly around Steve's waist, fisting at his jacket and forcing them as close as possible, as if he's attempting to merge bodies with the other, who sighs something so satisfied into their rough yet intimate embrace.

Steve eventually pulls off, but keeps Billy's face in his hands, a thumb gently caressing his burning pink cheeks. “You have... no idea how long I've wanted to do that.”

“I think I do,” Billy nearly sings along with how jubilant his heart is, and slips out of Steve's grasp as he dives for another kiss.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Standing Still

Not My Gif

Vasquez x Reader x Faraday, Female Reader, Polyandrous Relationship

AO3 Link/ Support Me on Ko-fi

Requested by Anonymous:  Maybe “Just go away” and “Why didn’t you tell me?” With Josh and Vas?

A/N: This is my first time writing a poly relationship, so I apologize in advance.

Word Count: 2.7 K

           A woman being in a relationship with two men was not something one would consider normal, and yet, that was how your life had decided to go. 

          You weren’t going to complain, but there was no shaking just how odd it all was. Faraday was always quick to point out Mormons had been doing it in reverse for years, and considering the scarcity of women west of the Mississippi, it would be downright selfish of him and Vasquez to take one each for themselves.

           The three of you met when Mrs. Emma Cullen went out in search of gunmen to protect the small town of Rose Creek.  You and Vasquez hit it off right away with Faraday not far behind as the week went on.  After the battle, Sam, Goodnight, Billy, Jack, and Red all went their separate ways, but you, Vasquez and Faraday all ended up going in the same direction and hadn’t split up since.

           It took time, but your feelings grew stronger and stronger every day for one another, until finally it exploded in a mix of booze, shouting, and sex. Once you sobered up, you were finally able to talk it out like reasonable adults, and confronted the simple truth they you all loved each other and there was no sense in trying to hide it.

           It wasn’t always easy.  Faraday had the uncanny ability to drive Vasquez to the point of insanity. Vasquez’s temper at times got the better of him and your own stubborn streak could lead to not talking to either of them for days on end until one of you cracked. But you still managed to balance each other out, and none of you could truly be whole without the other.  

           You loved them, and you knew they loved you right back, but there was no avoiding who they were.  Faraday was a drinker, a gambler, and overall scoundrel.  Vasquez as a wanted man, constantly looking over his shoulder. Neither was the type to settle down. You tried to never let that fact bother you.  You didn’t mind the idea of being on the move forever, but you knew, eventually you would have to stop.  

           Faraday and you took the lead as you rode into town, scouting out the area, or more specifically, the sheriff’s office.  You started making a habit of watching the wanted posters whenever you came into an unfamiliar place.  Luckily, none of the posters mentioned Vasquez by picture or name. Faraday offered to give Vasquez the all clear while you checked in with the local doctor.  

           You hadn’t been feeling well as of late.  Most of your mornings were spent bent over a rock puking.  You waved it off as nothing more than hard riding combined with something you ate, but both men insisted you see a doctor.  You reluctantly agreed, but for your own reasons.

          You had a sinking feeling you had something much more permanent than an ailment of the stomach.

           You found the doctor easily enough and allowed him to run as many tests as he could.  You bobbed your knee anxiously as he took your temperature and checked your pulse.

           “How long have you been feeling this way?” the doctor asked.

           “About a week,” you said.

           “And it always happens in the morning.”

           “More or less.”

           The doctor nodded his head, as he took his hand away from your wrist.

           “Ma’am, this is going to sound rather crude, but rest assured it is purely in medical interest.  When was the last time you bled?”

           You didn’t answer right away, trying to remember.  You hadn’t exactly been keeping track considering your life style, but the more you thought about it, the longer ago it seemed.

           “I’m not sure,” you admitted.

           “Well, it seems to be you don’t have a stomach flu at all,” he said with a smile. “You’re pregnant.”

           Your breath stopped in your throat as you felt the color drain from your face. You thought it might be possible, but the reality was something entirely different.

           “I’d say you’re about a month along,” he continued, oblivious to your thoughts. “I’m sure your husband will be thrilled at the news.”

           You nodded, unable to form a coherent thought.  

           The doctor continued to rattle off instructions to which you were only half conscious of.  You smiled and thanked him in a daze as you walked out the door.

          You were pregnant.  You were going to be a mother.  Vasquez or Faraday was the father.  

          You didn’t bother to get back on your horse.  You just unhitched him and walked down the street trying your best to delay the inevitable.  

          The sun was starting the set by the time you reached the inn.  You took your time leading your horse to the small stable alongside it before making your way inside.

          You made you way up the stairs, and stopped in front of the door, listening closely. You hoped Vasquez and Faraday had already found their way to the gambling hall, but no such luck.  You heard both their voices through the door, talking about something you couldn’t make out. Steeling yourself, you walked in.

          Vasquez was standing by the mirror, washing his hands and face while Faraday sat on the bed, buttoning up his only clean shirt.  Both looked to you as you entered, each with their own looks of concern.

          “Hey darlin’,” Faraday said.  “What’d the doc say?”

          You pushed aside your dark thoughts giving the best easy smile you could.

          “Ain’t nothing bad,” you said.  “Just told me I should rest up a couple of days.”

          Vasquez walked over to you, taking a gentle hold of you and pressed his lips to your forehead.  

          “How are you feeling now?” he asked.

          “Honestly, a bit tired,” you said, sighing for effect. “I think I might just stay in bed tonight.  You don’t mind, do you?”

          “I think I can manage without my good luck charm for at least one night,” Faraday said.

          “You sure about that guerro,” Vasquez countered.

          “Hey, have some faith.  I made it long enough to meet you two didn’t I?”

          “A miracle on its own.”

          Faraday only smirked as he stood from the bed and walked over to you.  He pressed a quick peck on Vasquez’ lips before turning you and kissing your cheek.

          “Take care of yourself sweetheart, alright?”

          You gave a small nod.  

          He smiled in return and walked out the door.

          “He’s going to be impossible tonight, isn’t he,” you said, just as the door closed.

          Vasquez chuckled lightly.

          “Probably,” he said. “Do you want me to keep you company instead?”

          You shook your head giving him a reassuring smile.

          “No, you have fun tonight. You haven’t had a chance to loosen up in a while.”

          “You sure?”

          “Yeah.”

          Vasquez looked you over carefully, checking for the lie, but he couldn’t find it. He placed a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away.

          “Beunas noches cariña.”

          “Beunas noches.”

          He gave you a soft smile, and walked out the door leaving you completely alone.

          You walked over to the bed and sat down. You knew the lie wouldn’t last you long. Eventually they would start to notice your stomach growing and how you wouldn’t be able to drink with them and a number of other facts leading to the truth. You couldn’t face it though.  You knew what the truth meant.  You didn’t even consider the option of giving the child up.  It was made from the truest love you’d ever felt.  You couldn’t bare letting go of something made up of each of you.  But a simple fact remained.  They would leave.  They would have to, at some point or another, they would leave you.

          You felt the tears starting to form in your eyes.  You knew this day was coming, you just didn’t expect it to come so soon.

          Holding you head in your hands, you allowed your emotions to run rampant as the tears started burning down your cheeks.  You knew what you had to do.

          As quietly as you could, you started packing your bags.  There wasn’t much to pack.  Faraday has learned from experience you didn’t like other people touching your stuff and so only unpacked the things that got in the way of his own clothes and essentials.

          You worked slower than you normally would have, stopping every so often to cry or look around the room, or listen to the stairs almost hoping they would come back up, just in time to stop you, but no one came.

          Sooner than you would had liked, you were packed.  You paused a moment to look around the room.

          You should leave them a note, something to explain your actions, but you couldn’t think of what to say.  You didn’t want to lie to them with some made up excuse, but you knew the truth would lead them to follow you.

          You shook your head, grabbed your bags, and made your way down the stairs and towards the stables.  You didn’t stop until you reached your horse.  

          “We’ve got to go boy,” you said walking over to your saddle.

          Suddenly a loud bang came from the pin beside him.

          You jerked your head to see Jack pacing the stall, kicking and neighing as loudly as you ever heard him.

          “Jack,” you scolded, walking over to him.  “Jack, quiet, will you?”

          He didn’t let up, shaking his head and jerking away from you as you tried to calm him down.

          “C’mon boy, it’s alright. It’s just me.”

          “Y/N!”

          You turned around, your stomach dropping to see Faraday standing in the doorway in the stables panting.

          He didn’t even get you time to respond, as he turned his head over his shoulder.

          “Vas, I found her,” he yelled just before walking further into the stable.

          “Sweetheart, what are you doing,” he asked.

          “Just go away.”

          He didn’t stop, reaching out to you.

          “Y/N…”

          “Don’t touch me!” you snapped.

          He stopped in his tracks, retracting his hand immediately.  It was then he noticed your bags on the ground, and your saddle sitting just beside your horse.  He then looked back to you, as realization took over his features.  

          You felt the emotions starting to build back up pressure to your eyes and throat as you tried desperately to keep the tears at bay, but to no avail.

          It was then Vasquez entered looking between you and Faraday in utter confusion.

          “What happened?”

          You couldn’t answer.  You weren’t even sure how you were still breathing as you choked on the air.

          “I think she was planning on leaving,” Faraday answered for you, not bothering to look as Vasquez.

          The other man stood stalk still.  Disbelief, confusion, hurt, anger and all the rest played across his face as he finally settled his eyes on you.

          “Why?”

          You shook your head, wiping away your tears as best you could.

          “Don’t ask me that,” you said hoarsely.  

          “No, I think we outta,” Faraday said.  He made no effort to hide his bitterness.  You couldn’t blame him.  

          “I can’t.”

          “Can’t what?”

          “Please!” you begged, finally turning your eyes to look at him. “Please, just let me go.”

          “Not until you tell us what’s going on!”

          You shook your head.  You couldn’t say the words.  You looked away from them as another sob wracked through your body.

          Faraday let out a groan of frustration, turning his back and walking away from you.

          Vasquez didn’t say anything.  He looked to Faraday, meeting his eyes.  There was a small series of looks back and forth in a silent conversation ending with Faraday giving a tired shrug.

          Vasquez then turned to you. With all the caution of one approaching a spooked horse, he stepped towards you.

          “Y/N,” he said softly.  

          You didn’t look at him, but you didn’t pull away either.

          He took a chance, reaching out to place and gentle hand on your arm.

          “Look at me.”

          You did as you were told, regretting it instantly.  

          Faraday was a poker player in every sense.  His face barely gave away anything when he didn’t want it to.  Vasquez was completely different.  For all his practiced machismo, his eyes always gave away what he was really thinking.  

          Guilt tore through you as you saw the pain you had caused him.  The pain you caused both of them.  You hadn’t meant to, but it was obvious your methods had been in vain. They needed to know.  You owed them that.

          “I’m pregnant,” you said weakly.

          Vasquez froze, his eyes going wide as he stared at you in complete shock.

          “What?”

          Faraday turned back to you then, looking at you with the same expression.

          “I’m pregnant,” you repeated, a little louder, leaving no room for doubt.

          Vasquez glanced back to Faraday as if to make sure he had just heard the same thing.

          Faraday didn’t look at him.  His eyes stayed right on you.  You almost wanted to laugh.  It took a lot to take the words right out of Joshua Faraday’s mouth.

          Vasquez turned back to you, looking down your body to your stomach.  He reached his hand out to touch it, but retracted it at the last second before meeting your eyes once more.

          “Are you alright?” he asked limply.

          “Yeah,” you said, smiling slightly.  “I mean, I do have a person inside me, but yeah.”

          “But you sure?” Faraday asked, regaining his voice. “You’re absolutely sure.”

          You gave a small nod.

          “The doc said I was probably about a month or so along.”

          Vasquez cursed something in Spanish under his breath while Faraday ran a hand over his face.  Both of them seemed at a loss as to what to do as they processed the information.

          “Why didn’t you tell us?” Vasquez finally asked.

          You looked down at you boots.  A part of you was ashamed, but another part knew you were right, or at least, thought you were.  

          “I didn’t think you would want it,” you confessed. “I thought it would just be easier on all of us.”

          “Why would you think that?”

          “Do you want this baby?” you asked him plainly. “Either of you?”

          Neither of them said anything.  They each looked at each other, as guilt and uncertainly spread across their faces. It was all the answer you needed.

          “I know you two,” you said simply. “You’re good men, but you’re not fathers.”

          “Is that what you really think of us?” Faraday asked.

          “When was the last time we stayed anywhere more than a few weeks?” you asked. “How long is it until someone runs us out of town or the sheriff starts to get suspicious?  Me, I don’t mind it, but I can’t do that to them.”

          You looked down at your stomach, placing a hand over it tenderly.  For a moment, you could see them.  A red haired little girl, a dark-haired boy, brown eyes, green eyes, all playing in front of you.  A child you could call your own with the perfect mix of all of you.

          “I have to stand still,” you said softly, “and I can’t ask you to do the same.”

          “We could try,” Vasquez said.

          You shook your head, feeling the tears come back into your eyes.

          “For how long?” you asked.

          “As long as you want us,” Faraday said.

          You looked up at him in surprise.

          Faraday stepped back towards you taking a place besides Vasquez.  You had never seen him so serious before. You waited for a crack, a smirk, something, but it never came.  

          “We won’t leave you Y/N,” he said. “You or the baby.”

          You looked between the two of them, feeling a small bit of hope beginning to swell inside you.

          “I want to believe you…”

         “Then believe us,” Vasquez said. “We’ll make it work.  We’ll prove it to you.  Just give us a chance.”

          You could feel the determination behind his words.  Both him and Faraday.  

          You felt yourself nodding, giving in to the love you had for them.

          Faraday quickly took you into his arms, hugging you tightly.  You returned it tenfold wrapping your arms around him like a life line.  You felt Vasquez come up behind you holding you close effectively enveloping you in the warmth of the two men you loved.

          Maybe it was a bad idea.  Maybe it would end in heart break.  But for the moment, you had them, and they had you.  Your child would be loved and that was enough.