#and heather gives me very much 'stumbling her way into finding out shes actually a bad ass with mad monster fighting skills'

[rigginsstreet]

nothing but respect for MY fruity four

[harringrovetrashrat]

Tagged by @disdaidal !!!  Thank you!  Omg I’m like 🥺💖🥺💖

So, I figure since I have so many things I’m working on, and no idea when I’ll actually finish them (outside of my Big Bang Project), I should share the bits of them that I do actually have dhfoiahfiosh

What we have are these:

A fic where Billy meets some older queer people while kicked out, and learns from them how to love himself

“So I’m guessing you’ve never met a queen before,” they said. Billy shook his head.

“I’ve never met any royalty.” Juicy laughed and it made Billy feel like he’d said the wrong thing until she looked at him again, practically beaming.

“Well honey, there’s queens abound in here. Drag Queens, specifically.” Billy’s mouth formed a small ‘o’.

“So, you’re a… man?” Juicy shook her head.

“Personally, I find man and woman too limiting. All gender is a costume, darling. I just think dresses are prettier than suits.”

“You haven’t been in the right suits,” Cindy said with a smirk. Juicy gave her the finger without looking.

“It’s called taste, sweetie.” Cindy just laughed. Billy stared at Juicy, feeling awed by them. They were so tall, toned and beautiful. Their skin was dark and glistened with the glitter they’d spread over it. “I’m sure you have taste, don’t you munchkin?” Billy couldn’t help it and he pouted.

“I’m not short, I’m average for my age,” he snapped. Juicy just smiled.

“I like you,” they said, pointing a long nailed finger at him.

A Cheesy Summer Camp Horror fic, with romance and comedy because Like.  Y’all know me.

“Let’s stop talking about her,” Heather cut in. “Let’s talk about this weekend.”

“This weekend?” Billy asked, perking up. “What about it?”

“Well, I was thinking we could celebrate the end of the first week with a skinny dip,” she said, eyes sparkling. Billy didn’t miss the flush that crossed over Robin’s face, though he wasn’t entirely sure who it was directed at. He definitely had a guess.

“I’m game!” Tommy piped up, grin wide, anger disappearing from his face. Billy rolled his eyes and snorted, but raised his hand, tongue running over his top teeth.

“Why not,” he said, giving his eyebrows a quirk. “I ain’t no pussy.”

“Of course,” Adam muttered, rolling his eyes. Billy’s eyes snapped over and narrowed. “Isn’t it a little, I dunno, juvenile?”

“Oh come on,” Steve chimed in, munching on the cookie now, relaxing with the change of topic. “Maybe so, but it’s summer, it’s camp, why not, right? Start it off with a bang?” His smile was teasing, bright, and Billy found it hard to look away, hard to deny that smile what it wanted.

The Reverse AU where Steve moves to Hawkins with his father and step family, Claudia and Dustin, and Billy was adopted into the Mayfields

“I’m not--! It’s just midterms! That’s what has me all out of sorts.” He opened his notebook and tried to will his blush away. There was a soft thud and Nancy joined them.

“What has you out of sorts?” She asked.

“Mid--”

“Billy so has a crush on that new guy from New York,” Heather said. Billy made a noise of protest when Nancy smiled, leaning over.

“Oh he’s so cute! Truly impeccable taste you have,” she teased. Billy rested his head on the table.

“I hate both of you so fucking much,” he hissed.

“No you don’t,” they chorused.

“I do, I really do,” Billy replied.

Mermaid AU where Steve and Billy were young friends before being separated.  Steve tries to reunite them obviously

“I can show you a bunch of cool stuff,” Billy said, feeling oddly proud of himself. And well, the ocean was his home. And he never got the chance to really show it off to someone who didn’t already know it. “If I show you the ocean, will you tell me more about humans?” Steve nodded. “Like, why are all the ships girls?”

“Huh,” Steve said, tapping his chin with his finger. “I don’t actually know… Usually I think ‘cause a guy names them. I’ll ask my tutor. He knows everything.” Steve wasn’t a huge fan of Professor Owens, but he was nice enough. He let Steve find things to bring in and ask questions about, he didn’t get mad like Steve’s other tutors had when he had trouble reading. So even though Owens still pushed for Steve to focus more on his future, he was better than the other adults in Steve’s life.

“Tutor?” Billy asked. “What’s that?”

“Like a teacher,” Steve replied. “But like… Different.” In fact, Steve wasn’t totally sure what the difference was. Billy just squinted, looking confused.

“Different… how?”

“Uh, tutors are… are taller,” Steve replied matter of factly. Professor Owens was taller than Ms. Joyce had been, so there wasn’t anything to argue against that. Billy nodded seriously, making a note.

There was a ringing bell and a distant voice calling Steve’s name, making him sigh dramatically. It was already time? Billy’s ears twitched a little and he looked at Steve.

“What’s that?”

“That’s my nanny,” Steve said, mopey and pouting.

More of You’ll Find Me Looking Over the Edge of the World

“Oh, King Steve thinking about skipping?” Billy tugged him down, making Steve stumble as a fist started rubbing against his scalp and messing up his hair.

“Fuck, dude!” Steve cried, nearly dropping his tray. Billy just cackled, letting him go and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No,” Nancy said through grit teeth. “He’s thinking about staying and taking--”

“He can’t go around looking like that,” Billy said with faux concern, eyes all worried as he leaned on the table with one hand and used the other to point at Steve’s, now fully messed up, hair. “I think Steve’ll have to take the afternoon, don’t you?” Billy turned to look over his shoulder, not seeing the way Nancy rubbed at her temples as Jonathan very obviously tried not to snicker. Steve almost felt bad. Billy knocked on the table with his knuckles, pushing up with a grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll get him home safely.”

“Get me home--” Steve began, but before he could finish his sentence, Billy was shoving him around and out of the cafeteria. Nancy sighed, shaking her head, giving Steve a look he knew would turn into a talk later. “Sorry guys!” Steve tossed over his shoulder.

Billy with a rat he named Max to piss off Max (he calls her human Max and she hates it)

“And what the fuck are you doing here?!” He asked her. Max, the little trouble maker, just squeaked at him, wriggling in his grip. “No fucking wonder I didn’t see you in Barbie’s house this morning, you decided to be a fucking Houndini, didn’t you.” She squeaked again, tail swirling and dragging along his wrist. He heard footsteps behind him and moved to shove her back into his jacket sleeve when Steve approached.

“You okay-- Oh!” Steve blinked, brows raised as he saw Max reach with her small, cute little pink hands to grab for Billy’s hard nipple again. “So…”

“Cut that out!” Billy hissed, moving her down to cradle her against his stomach. She settled in, but she was definitely hungry and would get restless again quickly. “I didn’t see her this morning but just assumed she was hiding in her little pile.”

“Me too,” Steve said, checking around the hallway for anyone who was late. Luckily, there was no one around to see them trying to hide a rat in Billy’s jacket. “How’d she even get out?”

“I mean, we are keeping her in a Barbie dream house instead of a cage--”

“Really? You’re gonna sass me now? After you insisted that she ‘live like the princess she is’--”

Stranger Than Fiction AU

“Billy, I swear to fucking god if you don’t get out there right now--” Billy stumbled out from the back, head turned to glare at Max, who was pushing him from behind. She pushed until he was at the counter, face to face with Steve. He glared, though his face was flush. Max crossed her arms. “Like we fuckin’ practiced.” Billy shot her another angry glance, but then looked back to Steve. Who was so confused.

“Max may have, uhm, brought it to my attention that I may have overreacted just the tiniest little bit.”

“That’s not at all right,” Max said under her breath. Billy swatted behind him without looking, missing her completely.

“Anyway,” he pressed on, “I just,” he sighed, pushing an errant curl behind his ear. Steve watched the movement before snapping his eyes back to Billy’s. “I don’t often take the chance to be nice, so I got maybe a little offended.” Max scoffed. “Okay a lot offended,” he said with an eye roll. Steve couldn’t help it; he snorted. Billy’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes lit up, like a kid who just learned Santa was real. Steve blushed, looking away, but he couldn’t hide the smile on his face.

“It’s okay,” he replied, turning back to look at Billy. The sun lit up the stray blonde hairs poking out of his messy bun, making a light halo around him. Steve had to catch his breath.

It was like looking at an angel, vengeful and dangerous, but exciting all at once. His eyes seemed to shine, bright and gleeful, but also full of mischief.

“It’s okay,” Steve repeated, feeling his face heat up more. “I would have taken them if I could. They were amazing.” He smiled, nodding towards the stairs. “I should get to it though. Last day and all.” Something sad briefly flickered over Billy’s face, but it was gone as soon as it was there, and Steve thought he must have imagined it.

“Yeah, good luck,” Billy said. Max was smiling, smug, and she punched Billy’s shoulder.

Leverage AU

“Well,” he said slowly, letting the trio shake off their shadows. “The lab closed.” This isn’t about the kid was the underlying message. “But, what’s happening now is that Mayor Kline accepted a lot of weird bribes. They’re from a company called Starcourt Industries. Now, that’s the name of the mall that opened, Starcourt, but what’s weird--”

“--Is that they didn’t exist for very long before suddenly popping up in Indiana,” Alec cut in. “It reads like one of our companies. General background, seems legit, but I did a lot of poking around most of this stuff leads to loose ends. It took a while to get there, so at first glance…” The group nodded. At first glance everything checked out, and even a little digging would provide a general cover that most people wouldn’t think to look past.

Of course, none of them were most people.

“So who are they?” Eliot asked.

“All of the loose ends lead back to Russia,” Alec said. “But nothing concrete or connected, just more companies that do really general stuff. It goes real deep.” The implications there were discomforting. Alec was a genius, and excelled in his line of work, but this kind of grand scale cover up meant one thing: this was bigger than just a few bad apples in a company. This was a plan.

“So who’s the client?” Sophie asked. Nate pulled up a picture of a grumpy looking man, mustache groomed and eyes hard, but kind.

“Chief Jim Hopper.” That got Parker’s attention, bringing her out of the funk she’d been in since the mention of San Diego and Billy.

“Like, Police Chief?”

“Yep,” Nate said, popping the P. “He’s the one who found the kid, found out there was something going on at the lab. Now, he’s positive something weird is going on. Knows he’s done everything he can to legally take the Mayor down, but the man has a lot of friends in high places, and Jim can’t do anything. And that’s,” he smiled, “Where we come in.”

That’s still merely some of what I have going on, but that’s what I’ll share rn. Anyway, tag me in ur WIPs! I’d love to read them :) tag ur it

[dacreshoney]

chapter 2 things in common

chapter 2 of my new stranger things/billy Hargrove x reader series

summary: The new kid on the block billy Hargrove, the two baddest kids in Hawkins catch each other eyes, billy realises he might not want to just f**** and chuck Y/N and some serious tension between the two 

warnings: flirting/smut, swearing and actions some people may not agree with - mentions of abuse and drugs

Drink driving - do not do 

(I do not condone any behaviours)

read to find out more

(sorry to skip a few) a few weeks into the story - you and billy had started to get to know each other a little more, both of you didn't really want a relationship, well that's what you told yourselves anyway. You and Harrington had made up after your summer fling, you both decided you were better as friends after he had told you about him getting closer to one of the kids in your neighbourhood you babysat, dustin - demegorg story (will go into detail in a few chapters later) 

You and billy had made your way to some cliffs in Hawkins and made yourselves comfy in Billys camaro watching over the cliffs as the sun sets, you had been talking for hours and hours. The past few weeks billy has been your getaway when things got rough and him to you, with neither of you really going into detail about what, you just clicked together like a missing puzzle piece. 

after a few hours you set off back to your house and billy spoke:

“ I like you, first girl in this sh** hole that hasn't fell at my feet or will do or say anything to please me” billy uttered to you as he placed one arm over the chair behind your head. 

“that sure of yourself hey Hargrove?” you laughed as you pulled up outside your house and looked into his eyes, you noticed your dad had just arrived back to the house in his sheriffs car, you tried your best to avoid eye contact with him.  you hadn't gone into much detail about who your dad was or what he did, didn't want to scare the poor boy off. 

“dads the sheriff huh? best stay clear then” billy laughed as he removed his arm from the back of the chair. 

“the sh*****t one going, so you don't need to worry a pretty hair on your head”  I claimed 

Billy looked at you a little concerned to the tone of how you spoke about your dad and asked “not so keen on your old man I've gathered?” 

before you knew it, words just started to blurt out, you felt comfortable with billy and you had an inkling he would have a very similar response. 

“to be honest, he's not much of a great old man, really needs to search the word dad up in the dictionary” 

Billy looked a little confused at first, but could link two and two when it came to dysfunctional relationships and he spoke gently “you know, I know what you mean with the not so good on the daddy department, but you know Y/N if you ever need anything, my blue little Camaro is only a block away” 

You giggled at billy, he always knew what to say to make you drift out of those depressing episodes, you lent over and gave him a peck, your lips touching slightly, you both had craved just that little bit of touch for a few weeks, but you'd never want to admit it. You both just looked dat each other, taking it no further and you replied: 

“ thanks billy, you know I really do appreciate it, not so mr tough guy after all huh?” you smiled as you stepped out the car giving billy a quick wave as you headed towards your house. 

You entered your house to then be bombarded with questions and a drunk dad raising his hand to the right of your head, slamming the door shut, he shouted 

“ who the f**k was that you little sl*t” 

“ nn.. no.. no one dad” you said whimpering as you tried to move away, he pushed you against the door and held you by the throat and shouting again, spitting in your face; 

“don't you lie to me you wh**e, I saw you with that piece of trash from round the block, you know I've had one or two complaints from his house, I should of known you'd be involved with him, huh so what is it? hmm..” he pressed on to you, getting right into your face as you had tears coming to your eyes, you had officially had enough of the sh**, your dad continued to hound you “ ANSWER ME you cu*t”  he shouted one more time, breaking his glass bottle and catching your arm with it, trying to teach your a lesson, your neck has started to bruise a little from the pressure of his hands. Then that was it, it just released, you scream in which it pushed him back into the sofa, like a wave of Ange and power forcing him off you, and screamed “ I said, get the hell off me” .. 

you ran to your room, locking the for behind you, you went to your wardrobe , finding anything you could to put in a bag and on, you couldn't stay there any longer than you had to. You fixed yourself up, tried to hide the bruising and cuts but you were chugging down the vodka you had in your room so you really couldn't tell what the hell you was doing. you knew where you were heading and that was heathers party. 

||outfit choice below||

As much as you ached, you looked sexy and you knew it, you would of took the jacket off but then people would see the cuts and bruises. You jumped out your window and headed towards your car, where you couldn't even function the key fob you were that pissed. The engine started and let’s say, its a good job you were the sheriffs daughter because that driving was not road legal. 

You arrived at heathers, you jumped out your car which you attempted to park, in which you failed miserably. Making your way through the crowd, stumbling a little you spotted him, that's right, Billy Hargrove with his left arm raised and leaning right over Tammy’s head, most likely flirting. you locked eyes straight away and he could tell you were pissed at him, you rolled your eyes and stormed off to find Steve. Steve was leaning against the kitchen island and you slurred to him “hey babe, fancy pouring me a drink” as you lent your arm over his shoulders, Steve hesitant at first as he could tell you were drunk but then he gave in as you gave him your famous puppy dog eyes that no one could every day no to. You and billy liked to play games with each other, that was your thing, at least sober you could handle it or at least pretend to handle it, you played each other and tried to make the other jealous. It sure as hell had worked, you knew you were starting to fall for him, but you could never admit it to yourself. Both of you were so alike, but you would never admit that. 

‘ songs playing next are - rock you like a hurricane scorpions - no one like you by scorpions and running up that hill Kate bush’ 

Billy saw you dancing with Steve, so he then grabbed Tammy by the waist and started dancing with her, slightly grinding at her waist. He knew this would send you over the edge with him, but he just wanted you to come over and admit that to him. You were going to flip, until you knew exactly what to do to piss him off, there was one thing billy and you had done together and he knew how you were when you were on drugs, flirtatious, forward and completely let loose. you headed towards Tommy who you knew would be right near billy so he could overhear you.

“hey Tommy, you want to do a bag?” you stumbled towards Tommy, leaning against him with your hands on his shoulders. Tommy looked straight at billy, those two weren't on the greatest terms at the moment so he obliged with Y/N request. Tommy placed his c*ke onto his finger in which you sniffed in one, billy was furious and stormed over to the kitchen. The c*ke had hit and you were completely in a haze, now for phase two of pissing billy off, no care in the world you got up onto the pole stand in heathers living room, her mum did pole so everyone loved her for that. You started to dance seductively on the pole, more eyes heading your way as you started to tease and take off your jacket, not realising you still had the cuts and bruises. 

No one like you scorpions playing: 

There's no one like you I can't wait for the nights with you I imagine the things we'll do I just want to be loved by you

Billy’s POV:

you had had it, Y/N was up to her usual tricks tonight, you wish shed had just come up to you when she saw you with Tammy, if only she knew what you were talking about. No flirting involved, but typical Y/N jumping to conclusions yet again. 

.....

soon as Y/N asked Tommy for a bag you knew you had to watch her every move, only you two together had experienced that, the free emotions and movements you had with each other, the way you felt with each other, it was only meant for you two. Billy had turned to find Y/N dancing on the pole in the living room, his blood started to boil as he watched her start to tease he had to do something, he realised there was blood on her arm, he paced over straight away, dragging her outside before anyone else could see. This was his girl and no way in hell would he let anyone take advantage of her. 

Y/N POV: 

“I swear to god billy, get your f*c*ing hands off me” you screamed as billy dragged you by the arm to the outside porch. billy faced to turn you, his veins popping out his head when he gets angry and shouted 

“im not fu*c*ing letting go until you tell me what the f*ck you are playing at, first dancing with Harrington, then sniffing and don't get me started on the pole.. and lastly you wanna explain these cuts on your arm?” 

“why do you care hargrove huh? you basically were in Tammy hem brooks fu*c*ing pants early, go back and fu*k her, but thank you for noticing and pretending to care about my welfare” you hiccuped as you tried to walk down the porch. Billy chased after you and shouting right back 

“no I fuc*ing wasn't, if you actually had come up to me instead of playing easy with Steve, you'd of found I was turning her down because of you”

You harshly turned round to face him, without wanting to throw up with how fast you spun around and said “ don't you dare call me easy and two sorry to ruin your whoring, make sure you go apologise to Tammy for me, sorry I'm not one of these girls billy that jumps straight into your bed at the drop of a hat”

the screaming and shouting carried on for a few minutes, you ended up screaming right at billy, unknowingly letting loose of some of your powers again, some of the street lights shattered: you had made a larger crack in the gate to the upside down. Billy placed his hand on your throat in which he instantly regretted and you said “get your hands off me now billy, don't you ever touch me like that again I swear to god” billy shook at what he just witnessed and two the fact he had done something he never thought he would do and that was raise a hand to someone he loves. 

“you ever raise a hand to me like that again billy and you are dead to me, you got it” you moved your body away, your eyes tearing up. Tears streamed out of his eyes and anger hit when he restored his eyes back to the cuts and bruises,

“ who the fu*k did that to you Y/N?” he questioned with worry, billy had told you about his dad Neil and what he did to billy, you had never really let on about your dad because you tried to be there for him as much as possible without going into your own problems. 

“ not the only one with an abusive dad now are you billy” you sarcastically replied. Billy tried to ignore the sarcasm and instantly felt concerned and worried for Y/N safety. 

“I will kill him Y/N and the lights, what the f*ck happened there?” 

“don't pretend you care billy please, I don't need you lying to me, if all you was is to get me into bed then you can f*ck right off” I stormed off 

“ i’m not lying Y/N, ffs why don't you believe me?”  he chased after you 

“then why billy huh? why do you care?” you questioned laughing as you walked off

“because I fu*c*ing love you Y/N god dammit” and there it was, billy had finally let loose of his feelings for the first time in his life since his mother left. You both paused and looked each other in the eyes, the arguing had sobered you up a little and you realised what he had said. 

“I love you billy” 

You both jumped at each other passionately, leaping into one another arms and you touched lips, wrapping your legs around his waist, not leaning the kiss. You both had made your way to your car, rustling about to find your keys and open the door. You made yourselves comfy in the back seats, taking off each others clothes, all billy could could do was stare and admire your body, tracing his finger tips over the scars all the way down your belly. He then placed kissed from your breasts to the lining on your panties. You let out a moan in which sent shivers down billy’s spine at the thought of pleasing you. 

“you like that princess?” billy asked, kissing and licking your lining as he looked you straight in the eyes, all you could do was moan his name and plead for more

“yesss billy, uhh please”

“please what princess, huh? what do you want from me” billy muttered, his head between your thighs, placing kisses along the slit of your parts, gently edging his tongue to your clit.

“fu*k billy, fu*k me please” you pleaded with him, edging your head up to push him on the other side of the seat, placing yourself between his legs for a change, kissing his torso: training scratch marks down his belly with your fingernails, this man was yours and you were going to make sure he and everyone knew it. Billy was loving every second, you placed your mouth on the tip of his cock edging your tongue out and swirling it around the tip driving him wild. He grabbed your hair with his hand and tugged your head bag with dominance and said 

“don't play with me baby” billy smiled, biting his lip

“or what huh, what you going to do to me” I played on the words. After that billy pulled you up onto his lap, placing you on his bulge and pressing his body into yours ready in position. “

you sure you wanna do this baby? its not your first time is it?” billy asked, searching for a condom in his wallet, you placed your hands on his cheek and gave him a soft kiss and muttered 

“more than ready billy and no its not my first, does that bother you?” you asked, billy smiled and kissed your forehead and claimed 

“nothing you do would ever bother me, besides I like a woman with a little experience” 

you smiled at each other, then both ready he edge his tip slightly into your core, soaking wet you Mae his access a little easier with how tight you were around him. “f*ck Y/N, ride me baby, show me I'm yours” billy moaned into your ear, every motion edging him further. You continued to ride him, picking up your pace, getting a little rough you made scratches on his chest and placed your hand on his throat, choking him a little as you neared your peak. Billy gave you a smirk as you choked him as he grabbed your ass and clenched it as he starting pumping his cum into you. both reaching your climax you both panted into each others necks slowly releasing from each other. 

“ I meant what I said you know” billy spoke softly, holding your chin upwards to face him, “I love you Y/N Johnson”

you gave him a kiss in which you replied “and I love you billy hargrove” 

[baka-monarch]

It’s A Small World Chapter 2: Protecting His Honor

Summary: Virgil has a plan to catch Roman being a bad person, but instead finds some feelings he thought disappeared after ninth grade...

TRIGGER WARNINGS: CUSSING, ANXIETY ATTACK

Prologue Chapter 1

“It’s been three days Patt! Three days!!!” Virgil was in a video call with his brother as he packed a bag. “And he still hasn’t done one bad thing!” Currently he’d been explaining the roommate situation to Patton. For the past three days Roman had been a perfect roommate to Virgil, he’d kept the whole dorm clean, he would cook amazing meals for Virgil by waking up before him and having something always prepared for when the emo came back from class, AND he had yet to fall back into his old pattern of bullying Virgil. He had become the perfect roommate, but Virgil wasn’t quite ready to believe the act.

“Well, is that such a bad thing kiddo?” Patton had been listening to his little brother ramble on for the past hour about all the good things Roman had done as if Roman had done something terrible while... packing a bag? “Maybe he has changed?”

“Patton.” Virgil paused his packing. “People like him don’t change that fast.”

“Yeah but-” Patton tried to argue but was cut off as someone peeked at the screen over his shoulder.

“Patton dear, Virgil’s right. People can change but not that fast.” Janus, Patton’s lover, had been the one to cut off their boyfriend.

“Thank you Jan.” Virgil sighed as Patton had gained an exasperated look of defeat.

“No problem kid.” Janus smiled down at the screen, until his eyes caught on the bag Virgil was preparing with curiosity. “I thought you already finished your classes for the week?”

“Oh, I did.” Virgil had started packing it again, now adding a rather large water bottle.“Then why are you packing a bag?” Janus started adding a little motherly sternness to their voice as they said this.

“I uhm…” Virgil paused and looked at the screen, finding himself facing a worried brother and their glaring significant other. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I’m going to catch him in the act of being a bad person.” He smiled awkwardly, praying they wouldn’t ask more.

“Yes, but why do you need a bag for that?” Of course Jan would ask more, they are a lawyer after all.

“Well…” Virgil swallowed his nerves. He couldn’t lie to them. Literally. Janus always knew when someone was lying. “Remember when Patton would go to school and I would have to stay in his pocket because I was too young to be alone?”

“Oh Virgil…” “Oh kid....” They both seemed to say at the same time with that disappointed parent voice.

“Virgil you could get hurt!” Patton tried to argue as Virgil quickly zipped up the bag needing to escape this conversation.

“Don’t worry, I thought it through all night and I’ll be fine.” Virgil collected the bag onto his bag.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Janus pinched the bridge of their nose.

“Does it matter?” Virgil blushed.

“Kiddo, you need sleep!” Patton worried. “And you can’t just sneak into people’s pockets!” He scolded.

“It’ll be fine Patt,” Virgil argued, but now was starting to doubt himself. “plus,  I have everything I need in this bag.” He slung it onto his shoulders.

“That’s not the point Virgil.” Janus deadpanned. “You should listen to your brother, you could get hurt or worse.” Virgil opened his mouth to argue but Jan beat him to it. “And don’t reference when did it as kids. Patton knew you were in his pocket, Roman won’t. One wrong, unaware move, could seriously injure you and we won’t be there to help. I understand that you want to prove that he isn’t any better than he was in highschool, but there is still three days left in the week, plenty of time to either catch him being that person or to urge him into being like that again. There are other ways.” Virgil stared at the wall. Exhaled. Then closed his laptop.

It was time to get into position. Good thing Roman had left his jacket in the living room last night.

●●●

Roman woke with a start as his alarm blared into his ears. As he checked his phone he found it had actually been going off for the past hour, and he was about to be late to his first day of class.  He jumped out of bed and pulled on his clothes for the day, not bothering with a shower, or brushing his hair and teeth. He ran out of his room and snatched his jacket off the floor and threw it on before grabbing his backpack and slipping into it as he rushed out the door. As Roman ran to class his jacket swung around threatening to spill the contents of it’s pockets, luckily there was nothing in it’s pockets.

Or so Roman thought.

As Roman ran Virgil was on the verge of an anxiety attack as he held on for dear life. It was now that Virgil regretted his plan of hiding in Roman’s jacket pocket. Virgil was sure that if he hadn’t had a death grip on the inside fabric of the pocket he would’ve fallen out and gone ‘Splat!’ on the ground by now. He was lucky that he had decided to pack a backpack and not a different type of bag or he would have definitely lost his supplies by now. Maybe he should have listened to Patton and Janus, there definitely were more options to see Roman not be the perfect Prince Charming he was in the dorm. Unfortunately, it was too late to turn back now. For the time being Virgil would have to focus on his breathing and holding onto fabric.

As Roman ran to class Virgil could feel every thump as his pocket hit Roman’s side with every step. Virgil’s heart pace quickened as he could only hear Roman’s pounding footsteps as he stomped down with what sounded like all of his force but Virgil knew Roman was barely touching the ground with how fast he was running, and it was terrifying. Virgil’s mind raced as he squeezed his eyes closed, trying to block out the rest of the world. Breath, just breath. He tried telling himself but it was hard to focus on his thoughts when his ears were pounding from the strain of hearing so many loud sounds, pounding footsteps, a heart beating impossibly fast and loud, breathing that sounded like a tornado, a stomach that just would not stop growling. It felt like hours before Roman burst through what had to be his classroom door, but it had actually been a few minutes.

“Oh thank god… “ Roman exhaled with relief as he had made it on time with a few minutes to spare. He chose a seat off to the side and promptly collapsed in it.  Virgil was relieved as Roman sat down and slid down in the pocket as he finally relaxed, taking a moment to let go of the fabric and rest his fingers. Virgil took this time to calm himself as he listened to Roman’s breathing and rhythmic heartbeat. Once Virgil’s breathing had even, he pulled out his phone-like his backpack it had shrunk with him-and focused on Tumb.lr to defray his nerves.

While Roman waited for the professor to arrive he pulled out his phone and got onto Instagram. Not long after he’d gotten his phone out did he receive a message from someone he thought he’d blocked. Heather. His ex from highschool. She had sent him a picture of him sitting in class from the back of the room he was in, with the caption: “didn’t know you’d be here lover boy~” with a heart. Roman took a moment to glance behind him, and sure enough in the very back of the classroom, was the makeup covered, plastic, fake, bitch, Heather. Roman took a moment. Screamed internally. Then blocked Heather on Instagram again. He held back a laugh as he heard her noises of disbelieving offense, but did allow himself to gain a satisfied smile.

“Do you how do, class?” Someone exclaimed as they walked through the door. “I am your teacher,  Professor Picani.” He smiled as he gave them all a small bow. “And I am here to teach you about acting!” He smiled brightly. “But for today, let’s get acquainted with each other, shall we? All you have to do today is talk to each other, have fun you sassy lassies.” With that Picani sat at his desk and watched over the room as students took the opportunity to talk to get crazy. Everyone immediately surrounded one desk as someone had pulled out a couple of prop swords and was setting up duels for everyone.

Roman was halfway out of his seat to join them when Heather appeared in front of him saying, “So Roman,” she leaned over him with her hand on his desk, preventing him from moving. Virgil stiffened at her voice, easily recognizing it.  “I didn’t think you would be able to afford going here, did you just miss me that much?” She smiled innocently as Roman grimaced.

“No, I got a scholarship for doing theater.” He deadpanned, wanting nothing more than for the conversation to be over. Virgil listened closely from his pocket, surprised by Roman’s harsh tone. Hadn’t he been dating Heather?

“Ooooohhhh.” She said, feigning ignorance. “So they took pity on you and emo fucker?” Virgil flinched at the nickname, but surely now Roman would give up the act?

“No, I think we earned going here.” Roman was curt, cutting his words making them sharp. “Unlike you who paid them to let you in, but just because you’re hee that doesn’t give you the right to say that.”

“Say what? Emo fucker?” She smiled with innocence but a dangerous gleam could be seen in her eyes. She leaned in close to Roman and from the pocket Virgil could feel the shift in atmosphere, both the tension and the heat radiating from the two giant bodies that were now close together. Virgil shifted uncomfortably and scooted back closer to Roman, although he may not like the prep they were better than the bitch any day. Roman gained a look of disgust as he leaned away from her. “Ya know, I heard that you share a dorm with him. Are you an emo fucker, Slut.” Roman promptly blushed and pushed her away from him. As Heather stumbled back she smiled mischievously. Virgil was blushing as he got startled by Roman’s sudden movement to push the bitch away.

“Get away from me!” Roman had exclaimed as he’d pushed her. She just chuckled darkly at him.

“So you are a gay looser?”  She gained a sinister smile. “Just like that emo fuck up.” She purred.

“You have no right to talk about him in that way!” Roman exclaimed surprising Virgil. “You can say and do whatever you want about me but you never even talked to him, got to know him, you have no right to treat him the way you do.” Virgil was dumbstruck. Did… did Roman just defend him? 

“Oh, and you did?” Heather retorted striking Roman speechless. “That’s what I thought.” With that she walked away leaving Roman to his own devices. Virgil just sat there listening to Roman slow breathing and quick heartbeat. He didn’t know what to think, and he definitely didn’t trust his feelings right now considering the immense heat he could feel spreading across his face. He huddled further into the pocket-not cuddled, he would never cuddle up to Roman! He closed his eyes and decided to take a small nap for now…

●●●

Later that night Virgil crawled out of Roman’s pocket after the prep had fallen asleep and returned to his room in disappointment, having not found what he was looking for. When he finally got back to his usual size he collapsed into bed and checked his phone to find hundreds of messages from both Patton and Janus asking what happened and if he was okay. Instead of texting back, he recorded a little voice message.

“ ‘m fine… Roman might be cute again, updates in the morning…” Then, he slept. 

Next Chapter =>

Tag list: @unevencube2554 @bullet-tothefeels @carryondrawing

[hippiebuckyharrington]

Yeah, It’s Me.

This is an almost very late birthday gift to my dear @negativenuggetz​. You deserve the world, and I hope you had a wonderful birthday! Thank you for being wonderful and always cheering me up. You deserve so much more than this, but I hope you like it!! (Mind the read more)

Read here on ao3! 

5.  "Coffee." Steve muttered, and slid a mug toward where Billy was just staring out the tiny window in the kitchen of their apartment.

Billy smiled a little, wrapping his fingers around the warm mug. He took a grateful sip, and sighed a little. Steve always knows how to make the coffee exactly the way Billy likes it. He almost makes it better than Billy himself make it.

"You work today?" Steve asks. Billy nods. "Need a ride?"

Billy nods again. He doesn't really talk much since July a year ago. Doesn't have much to say anymore. Though that's not quite true. He's not sure he can ever explain how traumatic it was to speak in a voice that wasn't his.

"I've got work today, but I can drop you off, and then if you don't mind waiting about 45 minutes after you're done, I can pick you up again." Steve says, smiling happily. He slides some bacon and eggs over to Billy. Billy eats quietly, and Steve chatters away about something Billy doesn't listen to. He’s been distracted since last summer, and Steve never blames him for that.

Billy clears his plate, and wordlessly wanders into his room to change for work. He pulls his hair back as best he can, it's growing out since the summer, and Billy really likes its length now.

Steve is changed for work too by the time Billy is, his name tag affixed to the horrible grey shirt he has to wear at the Video Store. He's yawning and watching TV.

Billy wanders back into the kitchen to try and cobble together a lunch. He doesn't do very much of the shopping, his hours at the garage are long, and he's almost always exhausted when he gets home. Steve always shops for them. Billy always means to help more, but it never works out. He’s always so tired.

"Oh! Here." Steve calls, coming over and handing Billy a brown paper bag. Billy blinks.

"Lunch?" Steve says and shakes the bag a little at Billy.

Billy nods, and takes the sack from Steve.

"Ready to go?" Steve says, and at Billy's nod he grabs the keys and leads the way to the car.

The Camaro, Billy's first love, is still out of commission after the summer. He’d get it fixed, tow it to the garage and fix it when things are slow, but the car is collecting dust in the back drive of Cherry Lane. Billy can't get it. Much as he wants too. Neil’s got it held hostage. Steve gives him rides and seems all too happy to mother hen him but Billy misses his baby.

They pull up to the garage, and Steve smiles at Billy, bright and open. Billy's heart aches, how did Steve Harrington get so pretty.

"Have a good day! I'll be back at 7!" Steve chirps. Billy nods.

"Bye Harrington." He whispers.

Steve grins and pulls away from the curb once Billy gets out of the car. Billy clocks in and checks the list of cars, and the mechanics assigned to them.

"Hey there kiddo!" Bernie calls from the main garage.

"Good morning." Billy calls back. Bernie is Gary's wife, the two have been working at the garage for over 30 years.

Bernie chatters away all shift, but Billy doesn't mind. She talks about cars, and the people, and she doesn't care that Billy doesn't really answer.

"Your roommate drive you in?" She asks when they take their lunch break. Billy nods. He opens the paper bag and finds an apple, a sandwich, a candy bar, and a sticky note with a smiley face drawn on it. Billy rolls his eyes and starts in on the turkey sandwich.

"Roommate make the lunch too?" Bernie asks. Billy nods.

"You in love with him too, or is it just him?" Bernie asks. Billy chokes on his sandwich and gapes at her. She grins. "I ain't gonna tell anyone. I'm just askin."

"I…." He says. And then swallows thickly. "He's just… he likes taking care of people." Bernie grins.

"Sure, he does." Bernie says. "But I think yall love each other." She goes back to her cold pizza nonchalantly but Billy ignores her resolutely, desperately disputing what she's said in his head. It’s not true, Steve is straight.

He ignores her all afternoon, but when Steve's red Beemer pulls up, she wiggles her eyebrows at him and smirks. He blushes and scurries out to the waiting car.

"Hey!" Steve chirps when Billy climbs in. "How was your day?"

"Fine." Billy says, and can't help but watch Steve out of the corner of his eyes. Steve prattles on about some story at work.

Billy smiles at him a little and closes his eyes, listening to Steve complain about some annoying kid who apparently switched all the tapes and cases on the horror shelf, so he and Robin spent all shift sorting it out. It’s really nice, and Billy tries not to think about it too much.

4.  Billy is drunk. Quiet drunk. Quit Drunk. Qu... Qu... Very Drunk. Whatever. He's drunk, for the first time in a while. He fumbles with his keys for ages on the front step, mostly just dropping them and picking them back up over and over.

Heather had shown up a few hours ago, barging through the apartment door and demanding that Billy join her for a party in Roan. Billy hadn't quite had a reason to say no, so he went with her. It had been loud, and exhausting. But it’d also been good, he'd drank warm, flat beer, danced with Heather, and smoked a little. And Heather had stayed sober and driven him home, and watched him carefully to see if he needed anything at the party. He’d even flirted a little. (The guy did NOT look like Steve, shuddup Heath.)

She's sitting in her car by the curb to watch and make sure he gets inside the apartment ok. She’s mostly just laughing at his many failed attempts too hard to actually help him.

He eventually does, and stumbles inside. It's dark, and he squints around. He turns and fumbles with the door trying to close it. (His foot is in the way, which takes him way too long to figure out). A light clicks on in the hallway.

"Bills?" Steve's sleepy voice calls. "You home?"

"yeps!" Billy chirps. Steve laughs.

"How ya feelin?" Steve mumbles.

"Goooooods." Billy slurs. Steve laughs and motions Billy into the kitchen.

He pulls out some leftovers from his dinner, spaghetti and garlic bread, that he heats up and slides over to Billy. Billy tucks into the food and eats quietly, this time because he’s inebriated. Steve sits at the table, adorably sleepy, in old basketball shorts and a giant stretched out hoodie, that he's pulled over his hands. He smiles softly at Billy whenever Billy looks at him.

"Tell me about the party." Steve whispers.

"Itssss fine. Loud." Billy says.

Steve nods. "I believe it. I'm glad you went."

"You are?" Billy whispers.

"Yeah, you're looking more like your old self." Steve says. Billy is too drunk to piece that bit together, so he just finishes his food.

Steve sits there and watches him for a while, knee pulled up, cheek resting on it. Billy shoves the plate away. Steve stands up and clears the plate. He ruffles Billy's hair a little on the way to the sink. Billy sighs happily, and rests his forehead on the table.

"Stevie, I'm vary drunk. Berry Drunk. Very Drink. Drunk. Issss drinked." He mutters. Steve chuckles from behind him.

"Yes, I can tell." He says.

"I'm soooooooooo sleepy. Hey Pretty Boy! Can Isss ask you something?" Billy mumbles.

"Of course, what's up?"

"Do weeeee has ice scream? Frozen milk? You know? The sugar and the cold. You know?" Billy says and then sits bolt upright. "Stevie! Oh mys god, tell me we have icescream!!"

Steve laughs. "We always have ice cream Bills." He pulls out the tub and dishes it up, sliding it to Billy again. Billy grins and digs in. Steve rolls his eyes and goes back to the dishes.

Billy almost falls asleep into his ice cream, but he finishes it. He only drops the spoon four times and he even tries to clear the dish. It's just basically a lot of fumbling around and Steve takes the bowl from him, laughing.

"Come on, bed time." Steve says, tugging Billy toward the bedrooms.

They rented this tiny two-bedroom apartment above Melvald’s after the summer, as soon as he was released from the hospital. Billy couldn't bear to live with his dad anymore, and Steve's parents kicked him out when they found out that he hadn't gotten into college.

It's got two tiny bedrooms, and one bathroom. Their furniture is all mismatched, and Billy is sleeping on a mattress on the floor, but they are out from under parents that hated them.

Steve eases Billy down onto his bed, and helps him out of his boots.

"Stevie?"

"Yes Bills?"

"I'm tired." Steve laughs.

"I know, we're getting you to bed." Steve says. "You want your jeans off?"

"You jus' tryin tah get me nekkkkkkid." Billy slurs, doing that closed eye drunk squint thing.

Steve laughs. "Sure, that's what I'm trying to do." The sarcasm is lost on Billy, but he’s not really paying attention.

He hauls Billy up, and helps him undo his button and fly, then slide out of the jeans. (Billy had worn underwear to the party because he knew he wouldn’t be getting any.)

Steve has to basically shove him back onto the bed, and he pulls the covers over Billy.

"Goodnight Bills." Steve whispers, and combs his fingers through Billy's hair for a minute. Billy's eyelids droop.

He's asleep before Steve even leaves the room.

"So, this boy put you to bed?" Bernie creaks the next day, in her raspy voice.

"Yeah." Billy says.

"Fed you, took off your pants, shoes, and put you to bed?" She asks, one eye brow creeping up.

"Yeah?" Billy says, eating the sandwich Steve made him.

"Boy, that man loves you." Bernie says. Billy rolls his eyes.

"He does not, straight remember?"

"Sure, he is, you keep thinking that." Bernie says, getting up to greet a haggard looking man walking toward the garage.

3.  "Ok, so, I work all weekend, but the kids wanted to come over Saturday night, for movies. Dustin already gave me a list." Steve says, eyeing the notebook page where he'd scribbled his schedule. "I know they are a lot, but Max misses you."

"Ok." Billy says, and then slides the piece of paper with his schedule over to Steve.

They do this every two weeks, when they get their new schedules. Billy needs rides, he doesn't like the bus, and his coworkers can't pick him up often.  Bernie takes him home sometimes, but Steve doesn't mind helping.

"Holy crap, Billy! Why are you working like 10 hours on Saturday?!" Steve cries, gaping at Billy's schedule.

"Only time we could get the school buses in for detailing before school starts." Billy mumbles.

"It's Hawkins, there's like four school buses." Steve mutters.

"They take a while, and we have some other cars that need finishing." Billy says. Steve sighs.

"That sounds like hell. Well, I can take you to work, and pick you up if you want that day, Tuesdays and Wednesdays you'll need a ride home." Steve says. Billy nods and makes a note on his schedule to ask Bernie, or maybe Sam. Sam works at the garage too, but he's attending college a few towns over, so he can't work as often.

Steve moves on, puttering around the kitchen making a grocery list, and Billy drifts off to read on the couch.

The week passes like usual. Work is busy, but Billy loves getting a car running again. He also rarely deals with clients. People expect a certain amount of brusqueness from their mechanic, and they don't mind if he doesn't talk much as long as the cars run again.

Saturday morning, he and Steve get up bright and early. Steve gets ready for work, makes them both lunch and coffee. He takes Billy to his job, two hours before Steve has to be at his own.

The school buses are all nightmares, and even with Sam, Bernie, Gary, and Billy all working on one, it takes them nearly the whole shift to get them working again on the school’s budget. They also get two of the really nice cars in from Loch Nora, for oil changes, but their owners demand full inspections. By the time the shift is over, all of them are exhausted, sacked out around the break room, with the fans going full blast. They all have shoved their coveralls down to their waists, and everyone's under shirts are riding up.

"Are those from…" Sam asks. Billy glances down and sees the edges of his scars peeking out under his white tank. He blows out a slow breath.

"Ay! Sam! Fuckin' rude man!!!" Bernie snaps, her usually cheerful demeanor squashed by so many hours working.

Sam looks sheepish and goes back to standing in front of the fan.

The official public story is that Billy was caught in the mall fire rescuing El and the kids. He was badly burned and had to be in ICU of the hospital for three weeks.  That's all people know.

Billy self-consciously pulls down his tank and drops his head back to the couch.

"Billy?" Steve calls.

"We're in here hun!" Bernie calls. She's known Steve for years, her daughter used to babysit him when he was little.

"Hey Mrs. Hannan, Mr. Hannan." Steve says.

"You can call me Bernie; we've been over this honey." Bernie says. Steve rolls his eyes and nods. Gary nods at him, but doesn't say anything, he's exhausted.

"Ready to go Billy?" Steve asks. Billy nods and gets up, nodding to everyone.

"See you Monday Billy." Bernie calls. Billy nods again and follows Steve to the car. They are both quiet on the way home, Steve knows Billy is drop dead tired.

Once they get home, Billy nods at the kids piled all over the couch and heads to the shower. Max waves and settles back against Lucas.

Billy takes a long shower, trying to work all the grease out of his hair. He doesn't quite manage it, but he gives up when the water runs cold. He hops out of the shower, slinging the towel around his waist. He wipes off the mirror and stares. The scars have fades to pale pink right now, but they are raised and a little lumpy. He sighs, hating them. But the doctors said there was nothing they could do for them. He just has to live with them.

He pulls on a comfy shirt and flannel sleep pants. Billy steps out of the bathroom and tosses his work clothes toward the laundry pile in his room.

"Billy? Dinner's ready!" Steve calls.

Billy doesn't reply just heads to the kitchen. He stops short in the doorway. Steve is fighting back the kids from the piles of food on the table, armed with an apron and a spatula. One plate is piled with steamed broccoli covered in cheese, steaming still. Another is filled with crispy breaded fish, and there is a mountain of French fries next to it.

"I said wait! Billy gets to get food first!" Steve says, physically holding Dustin back.

"But I'm hungry!" Dustin whines.

"Tough shit, you guys are animals. Jesus." Steve says, and then grins at Billy.

"Hey! Come get food! These kids are gonna demolish this." Steve says, glaring at Lucas when he moves closer. El giggles.

Billy walks over and grabs one of their mismatched plates. He takes several pieces of fish, handfuls of fries, and a huge serving of broccoli. The second he clears the table, Steve sighs.

"Alright, go ahead you monsters." Steve says, and steps back as the kids swarm the table. Billy sinks onto the couch, and takes the cold beer Steve hands him. Billy takes a careful bite of the fish, and nearly groans at the taste.

"Is it good? I asked my aunt in Maine for the recipe, she used to live in Cali. Finding fresh Cod was a bitch. Is it good?" Steve asks softly. Billy nods.

"I love fish and chips, and broccoli." Billy says. Steve smiles.

"I know, I asked Max what your favorite food was. Your day was so crazy, I wanted to make you something good for ya." Steve say, and then leaps up to break up Mike and Dustin, who are fighting over the food.

Billy frowns at his food, but he's too tired to wonder why Steve went to all this trouble. He doesn't know where one would even buy fish in Hawkins, but it's the freshest he's had in a while. (Still not as fresh as Cali, but fresh for Indiana.)

He's so tired, and the food is perfect, so he shrugs it off and tucks in to his dinner. The kids all pile on the couch or floor with their plates and Steve puts in some alien movie that the kids watch raptly. Billy falls asleep half way through, with Max leaning against his side. Steve helps him to bed again, smiling softly.

Bernie cackles on Monday when Billy tells her about the dinner, and mutters at him about roommates and being in love. Billy wonders how life got to the point where his best friend is a fifty-year-old mechanic. Her and his roommate. Life is weird.

2.  Billy has come a long way in the months since the July 4th battle. He saw a therapist for a while, and still goes in every few weeks for check ins. He took his meds diligently, and was given a prescription for depression and anxiety, that he mostly doesn't take, it's for emergencies.

Billy probably should have taken one before bed. He'd been yelled at by a rich housewife, who thought he'd broken her car (he hadn't), then Sam had dropped an entire tool box, causing Billy to startle so bad he'd spilled hot coffee all down his front. That had immediately reminded his of constantly being scalding hot with the monster in his brain. Then he'd dropped a tool on his foot. To top it all off, he'd forgot to tell Steve that he worked later today, so Steve wasn't able to pick him up, and Billy had had to catch Hawkins’ only bus, which was crowded and awful. Billy was quiet all through dinner and had gone straight to bed after, falling into an exhausted sleep.

It hadn't been peaceful for long.

In the nightmare, Billy was walking through the mall, begging the Mind Flayer not to do it, to find someone else. It had whispered in its horrible voice, that Billy was the best choice, and together they would create perfection. Billy was so tired, and couldn't fight. Couldn't fight as it killed the kids, one by one, Max last. He'd screamed, begged her to run, but she hadn't, couldn’t. But then the mind flayer dragged Steve, bruised and bloody, forward. Billy had screamed and fought, begging not to kill Steve. The mind flayer hadn't cared, and had bent to kill him.

Billy sat bolt upright with a scream, clawing at the shirt plastered to his chest with sweat. The light in the hallway clicked on, and the door banged open as Steve rushed in. Billy jumped and pressed himself into the corner, staring in horror at Steve.

"Billy, it's me, you're safe." Steve whispers, crouching near the bed.

"Steve…." Billy breathes.

"It was just a nightmare, you're ok." Steve says. He gets up quickly, turning on the floor lamp in the corner, and disappears into the hall. He comes back a few seconds later with a glass of water. He sets it near Billy, but doesn't hand it to him. Billy would be grateful if he had any thoughts to spare.

He chugs the water, and the looks at Steve for a long moment.

"You ok?" Steve whispers.

Billy takes a deep breath. "Mind flayer is gone right?" Billy whispers. Steve nods.

"Yep, we killed it, don't worry. We got it." Steve whispers. Billy nods.

"It was just a nightmare, I promise, you're safe." Steve says again.

"Don't think I can sleep anymore." Billy whispers a few minutes later. Steve frowns, checking the clock, proudly displaying one am.

"You need to sleep Bills." Steve whispers.

"Can't. Nightmares travel in packs." Billy mutters. Steve laughs.

"What if I stay?" Steve whispers.

Billy levels him with a look. "I'll sleep on the floor, but sometimes having someone nearby can really help." Steve whispers. Billy sighs.

"If you need to." He whispers.

Steve smiles, and gets up. He leaves the hall light on, and then turns out the light in Billy's room. Billy lies down, and wordlessly lifts the covers to let Steve in. Steve slides beneath the covers and sighs. "Not a word Harrington." Billy grumbles. Steve chuckles lowly.

"Wasn't gonna tell a soul, but we've been living together for too long for you to call me Harrington again." Steve mutters.

Billy just grunts. "Go to sleep Bills."

"You sleep, Stevie." Billy mutters.

They both lie there for a while, and Billy's head spins. Steve is here, in his bed, breathing softly. Which brings up the whole mess Billy has been ignoring for too long: that he's utterly gone on Steve Harrington. Has been since first seeing him a year ago on the basketball court, all sweaty and flustered.

And it's only gotten worse since moving in together.

Although, its mellowed slightly. In high school, Billy wanted to fuck Steve's brains out, or maybe have Steve fuck his brains out. Either way, Billy only really wanted to have sex with Steve. But since the mind flayer, and almost dying, and then moving in with Steve, the feelings have mellowed.

It's more focused on Steve himself. Billy wants a life together, to share a bed with Steve, to hold him, to be held by him at night. To sit next to him on the couch and lean into him, because he's exhausted. To hold his hand on the car ride home, to kiss him quick when he gets home. To go out with Robin and Heather to restaurants, so that they can go on dates. He wants the freedom to roll over right now and throw his arms over Steve, snuggling closer.

"You ok, Billy?" Steve whispers.

"I thought you were asleep pretty boy." Billy mutters.

"Nope." Steve says, popping the p. Billy rolls his eyes. Steve chuckles.

"I practically felt you roll your eyes." Steve sasses. Billy chuckles a little. They lapse into silence again.

"I'm not gonna bite ya, Bills." Steve mumbles.

"I know." Billy whispers. Steve shifts around until he's lying on his side facing Billy.

"Go to sleep, you look exhausted." Steve whispers.

"Thanks, Steve." Billy snarks. Steve laughs.

"Fine, I'm exhausted. So quit thinking and go to bed." Steve snaps. Billy laughs, and takes a deep breath. Steve's eyes have dropped closed, fluffy hair flopped around the pillow, and long lashes dusting his cheeks. Billy takes a slow breath, trying to match the rhythm of Steve’s.

His eyes drop closed, and before he knows it, he's asleep.

Billy wakes up to Steve's alarm blaring in the other room, snuggled into Steve's arms.

"I can feel you overthinking, already." Steve mutters. "Give me a minute, I didn't want to get up and wake you." Steve squeezes Billy tight for a moment.

Then he gets up and goes running into his room to dress for work. Billy sits alone in his room, trying desperately to find his footing again.

Steve doesn't bring it up at breakfast though, or for the rest of the day, so Billy grudgingly leaves it alone.

1.  Billy sort of falls into a downward spiral after that night. He withdrew more into himself over the next weeks, and is quiet at work, home, and everywhere in between. He had nightmares every night. And every night Steve slipped into his bed and held him. Billy pretended it didn't mean anything, but he clung to Steve.

"You don't have to talk about it." Steve whispered one night, running his fingers through Billy's hair. "But I'm here if you want to."

Billy nodded a little, and pressed closer, letting himself have this comfort, as much as he could.

"I'm scared." Billy confessed, a little while later. Steve was quiet, but Billy could tell he was listening. "I'm scared it'll come back, and that it'll make me hurt you and the kids."

"Oh Bills." Steve says, pulling Billy closer. "It's gone we got it, killed it, closed the gate. And even if it came back, we'd stop it again." Steve pulls back a little and looks Billy dead in the eye. "I will always come to find you, always. I promise." Only Steve can look this serious at butt fuck o’clock in the morning, talking Billy down from nightmares. Billy sighs and snuggles closer.

"I'm gonna hold you to that Harrington."

"You got it Hargrove."

They curl around each other and fall asleep like that.

Eventually Steve just starts going to bed in Billy's bed, which finally stops the nightmares.

Billy feels like maybe it's something they should talk about, something they should address. But Steve doesn't bring it up, just continues to live his life like normal, so Billy does as well.

But every morning he wakes up in Steve's arms, it's hard to remember that they aren't together like that. And that Steve is straight.

As October wears on, it's hard to remember that they haven't always done this. Billy tries really hard not to think about it, but it's almost constantly on his mind.

"You ok?" Bernie asks on their lunch break. Billy just grunts. "That aint an answer."

Billy sighs, and mumbles an answer under his breath.

"Didn't quite catch that hun." Bernie says, far too chipper.

"’M in love with my roommate." Billy mutters, and pauses, holding his breath. He can feel his heart pounding. Coming out in the past has not gone great for him.

Bernie whoops and thumps his shoulder. "Damn right you are!!" Billy raises an eyebrow at her. People in California were a little more liberal with this, they didn't care much. (In some neighborhoods they did, but in most they didn't). But this is a small-town Indiana: they aren't the most openminded people.

But Bernie is smiling so big, Billy's a little worried she's gonna hurt herself.

"So, you two handsome young men together yet or what?" Bernie asks. Billy rolls his eyes.

"Gross Bernie. He's straight remember?" Billy says. Bernie rolls her eyes.

"Please, I've seen the way he watches you, he's not straight."

"Creepy Bern." Billy says. Bernie grins and bumps their shoulders together.

"I think he's in love with you, that's all I'm saying." Bernie says.

They sit in silence for a while, Bernie munching on her pretzels, Billy eating his apple and mulling that over.

"Bernie?" Billy asks.

"Yes, Honey?" She says immediately. Billy is struck by how much she's like a mom to him, and how much he appreciates it.

"You don't mind that I'm…." Billy trails off.

"Oh honey, of course not. My daughter, you remember Shawna?" She asks. Billy has met Shawna like one time, she lives in Seattle. Billy isn't sure what she does. "Shawna lives with her girlfriend in Seattle. Shawna is a lawyer out there, and Christina is a teacher." Bernie sighs a little. "They have to pretend to be roommates, but me and Gary know that they are together. I love her with my whole heart, no matter who she loves."

Billy blinks a few times and accepts the hug Bernie pulls him into.

"You're wonderful, don't let anyone tell you different." She murmurs and then releases him and gets back to work.

Billy thinks about it all day, and on the entire bus ride home. It’s funny how casually Bernie said something that he’s gonna think about for the rest of his life.

He unlocks the door at home and steps in to see Robin and Heather curled together on the couch, and Steve sitting in the sagging armchair.

"Hey Bills, how was work?" Steve asks. Heather and Robin twist around and grin at him.

"Fine. Hi Heath, Buckley, what are you all doing here?" Billy mumbles.

"Steve asked us over for movies." Robin says.

"Yeah, I wanted to be around their gross happiness." Steve snarks.

"Gross happiness?" Billy asks, eyebrows furrowed.

"I asked her out like a month ago, and she said yes. Which you'd know if you hung out with me anymore." Heather snarks. Billy grins at them.

"Sorry, work." He says, and goes to shower.

When he gets out, the others have ordered pizza and are gathered around the coffee table. They don't hear Billy coming back down the hall way.

"Come on Steve, just tell him. Yall already sleep in the same damn bed, I think he's there." Robin says. Heather nods.

"You are the only person he trusts; I swear, I think he's into you too." Heather says, shoving pizza in her face.

Billy backs up and deliberately steps on the trick board in the hall way.

By the time he rounds the corner, Steve has a plate of pizza ready for him. Billy sits down and smiles at him.

"You've got some grease in your hair, Bills." Steve says, reaching out to comb it out with his fingers. It's a little stuck in there, but Steve gets it eventually. Billy is helpless to do anything but stare at Steve the whole time.

He blushes a little when Steve finally looks away. Robin and Heather shoot Steve meaningful looks, and everyone turns back to their pizza.

After their meal, Robin puts on the Breakfast Club, and curls up with Heather on the couch. Steve settles back in his chair, Billy leaning against it. Steve reaches down and gently kneads the sore muscles of Billy's shoulder, without being asked.

Billy tries very hard to forget what he heard. But his mind whirs the entire time, wondering if Bernie was right. And what Heather and Robin possibly meant by what they said.

+1.  Billy wakes up at eleven on his day off to some moron honking out in the parking lot behind Melvald’s. Billy's window faces the parking lot, and the honking literally will not stop. Billy groans and glances over at the other side of the bed. It's empty, which is odd, because he always wakes up to Steve. He frowns and stands up, the hoking continuing behind him. He turns to peer out the window, ready to flip off whoever is honking. His jaw drops when he sees what's outside.

Billy grabs his boots and puts them on while trying to run to the door. He falls a few times and barely makes it down the stairs without dying. But he stops short on the gravel of the parking lot and gapes at the car sitting there. Steve climbs out of the driver’s side and Max jumps out of the passenger seat, both grinning.

"Holy shit." He whispers. Steve's smile stretches a little wider.

"Surprise!" Steve cries, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Billy is speechless, gaping at the car.

Max apparently can't keep quiet anymore, she's practically vibrating with excitement. "We got it back from Neil, for your birthday!!! I had Mrs. Hannan at the garage fix it up during your off days, or the days you wouldn't notice. It runs like new and Neil gave me the keys." Max cries. Billy really thinks he might cry.

"You got my Camaro back." He whispers. Steve nods.

"It was all Max really. I was telling her that I wasn't sure what to get you for your birthday. She suggested getting the car back." Steve says.

"How?" Billy whispers.

Max sighs a little bit, and smiles. "I just kept bringing it up that it was taking up space every day for a while." She smirks. "He hates clutter, you know that. So, one day he was standing there glaring at it, so I said maybe Steve wanted it."

Steve jumps in. "I drove over there and bought the car. Max and I drove it to the garage and talked to Mrs. Hannan. She promised to fix it. It was done yesterday, but I wanted to wait until today." Steve says. He tosses Billy the keys, and Billy smoothly catches them. He just stares transfixed at the car.

"She's here." He whispers. Steve and Max crack up.

Max runs over and hugs him hard. "Happy Birthday, Billy. I love you." She says in a whisper.

"I love you too." Billy says. "Thank you."

"Of course, you earned it." Max says.

"I forgot it's my birthday." He whispers. Max laughs.

"It's ok, you've been working so much.” She doesn’t say that he’s been through a lot, but they all know it.  “But Steve remembered, and I did, so don't worry."

Billy hugs her again, and walks up to the car, trailing finger tips on her hood.

"I'm gonna take Max back to the Wheelers’ house. Go driving, I know you want to." Steve says, grinning, and jumps back into his own car. Billy wonders briefly if he caught the bus to the garage or something to pick up the Camaro.

Billy slides into the car and can't keep the smile off his face as he peels out of the lot. He whoops and goes flying down the dirt roads near Hawkins like he used to.

He had worried that being back in the car would bring up bad memories, but it doesn't. It's just freedom, and wonderful.

He drives for an hour and a half before he goes back home. He's exhilarated when he gets back, and baking the car into a spot next to Steve’s makes his smile stretch.

He's still grinning when he walks back inside. Steve is sitting on the couch and grins back.

"Good to have the Camaro back?" Steve asks. Billy nods.

"Hell yeah. Thank you, Stevie."  Billy says.

Steve just beams, and then turns back to the TV. Billy hangs his keys up on the other hook by the door, and settles on the couch to watch too.

Steve gets up later to figure out dinner, and Billy goes to his room to grab his book. He doesn’t mind a lowkey birthday, because just him and Steve is perfect. There’s a wrapped package sitting on his pillow.

Billy goes to open it, but stops and opens the card.

Bills, I know I got ya the Camaro back, but I thought you should have this too, cause it’s your birthday.

Love, Steve

Billy gapes at the card. Then it all sorta slots into place. All the little things Steve does for him. The rides, the lunches with sticky notes with silly doodles, the dinners made painstakingly from scratch, the casual touches and the way Steve mother hens him always. They are sleeping in the same bed for god’s sake!

Steve got his car back, from Neil who surely didn’t offer a fair price. Billy rips open the package and swallows when he finds a new Stephen King novel, and several new pairs of earrings. A dangling spike like the one he lost last July, a skull post earring set, and two sets of silver hoops with thin dangly knives and feathers respectively.

Billy swallows and dashes out to the kitchen, where Steve is comparing two take out menus.

“Hey Bills, you want Chinese or Thai?” Steve says.

“You love me.” Billy whispers, still in shock.

Steve sighs and sets the menus down. “Listen, I don’t need anything more, I’m so happy with what we’ve got now, like seriously, so happy. I totally get it if you aren’t into me, it’s all good. I’m fine, I just want you to be happy.”

“You’re straight?” Billy mumbles.

“No? I’m bi. I like both? I came out to you when we moved in?” Steve says. Billy believes him, but he hardly remembers that.

“Oh.” He says. Steve frowns.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want you to feel any pressure, I can move back to my own bed.” Steve mutters.

“I kinda thought we’d move to your room. Your bed is better.” Billy says, that old snark making an appearance. Steve’s head snaps up.

“What?” He says. Billy crosses over to him and grabs the front of his shirt.

“I’m in love with you too.” Billy whispers. Steve’s eyes widened.

“It’s you, and I can’t believe it took me almost a year of living with you to see it, but we have spent too long apart.” Billy whispers. They both sway toward each other, mouths meeting in the middle. Steve’s arms wrap around him, and Billy holds on tight.

“I love you.” Steve says, breathless.

“I love you too.” Billy replies, and holds one tight. They don’t need any more words.

The transition from roommates to boyfriends is seamless. They do move into Steve’s room, and turn Billy’s old one into a guest room. The sex is great, when they eventually get there. Being openly loved by Steve doesn’t magically solve Billy’s body issues, but Steve is patient, loving, and wonderful.

The kids are all disgusted and simultaneously glad. Robin and Heather apparently have been betting on how long it would take them to get together. (Heather made 20 bucks.) Bernie whoops so loud when Billy tells her, that Gary comes running down from the upstairs office to make sure nothing bad has happened.

She crushes him into a hug and Billy holds on just as tight. “You deserve this, every moment of it! You deserve the world and that boy is gonna give it to you.” She cries. Billy laughs, and when Steve picks him up, Bernie wolf whistles until Steve kisses him, right there in the garage.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Heathers | Sweet Pea

A/N: Part two! Taglist is still open if you’d like a spot on that! Just lemme know. 

Act one - Act two 

Words: 2684

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

Warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of alcohol and parties, heartbreak 

Act two: Big Fun 

“Are we going to have a problem?” Cheryl nearly shouts as she starts her battle with Toni. It’s been weeks since the first rehearsal and we’re off book and in costume, now setting everything on the stage. Cheryl and Toni have been fighting during the entire rehearsal process. I knew they were together, but I have no clue what the fight is about. All I know is, that it’s incredibly unprofessional to fight on stage when Toni clearly has some good choreography. Cheryl even pushes Toni to the side, making her stumble into Peaches ‘n Cream – another one of the Serpents or now the Pretty Poisons. I do not keep up. When the song ends and the Heathers are in their pose, nobody claps. All of us are just staring at them in confusion and utter awkwardness, unsure of what to do. “That was … something…” Kevin says, and then Cheryl storms off in a rage. “Kev, can we do that number again, please?” Betty asks the director in despair. “Vee and I really need to get the steps right.” Without saying another word, Kevin looks at me, knowing I’ve learned the song by heart, and I can keep up with choreo by just seeing it once. So, I nod and get up from my seat between Sweet Pea and Margot. “I am doing the full explicit version. So, please, no duck-duck-goose and doorknobs,” I warn them in advance before nodding to the music department to get started on the music whilst I hold onto my croquet stick. The Heathers behind me nod and Toni goes to sit back down with her Pretty Poisons. “Are we gonna have a problem? You got a bone to pick? You’ve come so far Why now are you pulling on my dick? I’d normally slap your face off And everyone here could watch But I’m feeling nice Here’s some advice Listen up, biotch!” The three of us get into the choreography Cheryl had just done with them, but I alter it a bit and add some of Toni’s steps, which Betty and Veronica follow in. “I like! Lookin’ hot Buying stuff they cannot I like! Drinkin’ hard Maxin’ Dad’s credit card I like! Skippin’ gym Scaring her Screwing him I like! Killer clothes Kickin’ nerds in the nose!” I look back at the two other Heathers. They’re both so concentrated on the choreo and the song, that they forget to have a good time. “If you lack the balls You can go play dolls Let your mommy fix you a snack” “Woah!” Betty and Veronica sing on cue. “Or you could come smoke Pound some rum and coke In my Porsche with the quarterback” I need to find a way to have them make fun while they’re doing this. Because this is the most fun song to do, apart from Dead Girl Walking, if you know what I mean. “Woah! Woah! Woah! Honey, whatchu waitin’ for? Welcome to my candy store Time for you to prove You’re not a loser anymore Then step into my candy store” I walk backwards, lining up with the two other Heathers rather than staying at the front. “Guys fall” Veronica and I sing together, locking eyes. I give her a smile, and her mouth curls up a little for a split second like a little spasm. “At your feet Pay the check” Betty sings by herself, unaware of what I’m trying to do. “Help you cheat” Veronica goes. “All you” we sing in unison, and I lock eyes with Betty as she sings her next line. “Have to do” Then I sing, “Say goodbye to Shamu” while waving as part of the choreo. “That freak’s” “Not your friend I can tell in the end” The smile reappears on Veronica’s face again as she looks at me whilst singing. “If she” the three of us sing in unison. “Had your shot” Betty sounds a lot happier too and when I look at her, there’s a grin playing at her lips as well. A happiness wells up in my stomach as the three of us sing in perfect unison. “She would leave you to rot!” Betty walks a little forward to where I would be as Veronica and sings the next part. “‘Course if you don’t care Fine! Go braid her hair Maybe Sesame Street is on” “Woah!” We all go before Veronica then steps up next to Betty and sings her line. “Or forget that creep” “And get in my jeep” The two smile at each other, and then I step in between them. However, their smiles stay. “Let’s go tear up someone’s lawn” Especially during the next chorus, all three of us are actually having fun singing the song and doing the choreography. It’s almost as if they don’t have to focus as hard on everything as they did in the beginning, and they can have fun doing it instead. Just like I wanted them to. “Woah! Woah! Woah! Honey, whatchu waitin’ for? Welcome to my candy store You just gotta prove You’re not a pussy anymore Then step into my candy store” “You can join the team” I sing, walking towards where I’d be marked as Veronica Sawyer. “Or you can bitch and moan” Betty and Veronica walk up to me. “You can live the dream” “Or you can die alone” They pretend to stab themselves in the gut and glance up at me as I sing the next line before they join me in singing too. “You can fly with eagles” “Or if you prefer” “Keep on testing me” “And end up like her!” I know I then have a spoken line, along with Martha, but since we’re focusing on the song and the dancing, I don’t do that one and instead, the three of us continue singing. “Woah!” “Honey, whatchu waiting fo—” Betty sings, getting ready to pretend to do the high note, but then I come in with my favorite line of all. “Shut up, Heather!” Betty raises her eyebrows with an amused smile on her face. The two of them continue to sing the song normally whilst I hit the high note Jessica Keenan Wynn does so well in the cast recording and in the off-Broadway show. “Step into my candy store! Oooh woah! Woah oh oh!” I then join Betty and Veronica again in singing the last part of the song perfectly. “Then step into my candy store! It’s my candy store It’s my candy It’s my candy store It’s my candy! It’s my candy store It's my candy store!” This time around, everyone gets off their seat and begins applauding and cheering loudly. “That was so much fun, Y/N!” Veronica exclaims, clapping her hands like a school child. “That’s what I was trying to teach you! Sure, you need to get the steps right and sing the right tune, but it’s so much more important to have fun while you’re doing this!” I say with a smile as all of us walk off the stage again for a small break. “And I loved how you intertwined Cheryl’s choreo with mine,” Toni then adds, a thankful face plastered on her face, “Thanks for that, Y/N.” “Since it’s Friday, Evelyn and I thought it would be a good idea to get the entire cast together for a grand big fun party tonight at her place,” Kevin then informs us as we’re nearing the end of rehearsal. “Starts at nine, Evelyn will text you the address.”  

“Dad says act your age, You heard the man, It’s time to rage,” I hear Evelyn sing as I walk into her house a little after nine. I roll my eyes at them. I can’t believe they’re doing the Big Fun number when not in rehearsals. “Y/N!” Evelyn exclaims as she hands me a shot of tequila and a lime whilst Kevin is holding a saltshaker. “It’s salt, then shot, then lime. Very important to get the order right!” she tells me. I nod as Kevin shakes out a little bit of salt on the back of my hand. I lick it up, then chug the shot and put the piece of lime in my mouth. “Whoo!” I exclaim, shivering a little at the sourness of the liquor and the lime. “Thanks, Ev and Kev!” Before I can say anything else, Fangs has already taken my hand and twirls me around. “The party's hot, hot, hot It's time for big fun! Big fun!” I actually sing along now. The song always gets me dancing and singing. I mean, it’s Heathers, come on. “You need a jello shot!” Sweet Pea says to Fangs and pats him on the chest before walking off. I can’t help but let my gaze follow him. Suddenly, I see his smile falter and walk off a little less cheerily than before. He takes a left instead of a right where I’d seen the bar when I walked in. His antics make me curious, so I decide to follow after him since I don’t really feel like dancing too much tonight anyway. “Hey,” I say when I find him outside on a lounge chair near the pool. He looks up at me and gives me a saddened smile. “Mind if I join you out here?” he signals for me to sit down next to him, and I do so. A careful few inches between us as he stares down at his fingers, plucking at the skin. “Not a party person?” he then asks me without looking up from his hands. “Not really, no. I normally just go for milkshakes at Pop’s after rehearsals with some of the cast,” I explain. For some reason, I suddenly feel nervous. I’m not sure if he’s the one making me nervous. But there’s a tingly feeling in my stomach and my hands get clammy. “I’d much rather be at Pop’s right now than here,” he mumbles, but I catch it loud and clear. “Let’s get out of here then,” I suggest. He finally looks up at me, hope displayed in his eyes. “Yeah, come on, let’s go! Neither one of us wants to be here, so why do we stay?” he nods, agreeing to my statement and both of us get up from the chair outside. “I’m just quickly going to tell Fangs I’m leaving,” he informs me, and I nod as I wait for him for a moment. The cast had gone to regular music and just dancing like normal people instead of the theater people. I’ll admit, if I do go to a party, it’s a theater party and we’d only sing musical soundtracks and do the choreography. But this time around, I really don’t feel like doing it. My eyes fall upon Fangs and Sweet Pea again, and I can see Fangs looking back at me with a smirk on his face. I give him a little wave as a smile tugs on my lips. Sweet Pea then walks up to me again, and tells me we can go. “What made you want to leave all of a sudden? You looked like you were having fun?” I ask him when we’re sat in a booth at Pop’s, both with vanilla milkshakes in front of us and a basket of curly fries to share. He slumps in his chair. “Josie and I had a thing this summer, and she told me we couldn’t start something serious because she wants to focus on her music career, but then I saw her making out with Archie Andrews at the party,” he explains whilst popping a fry in his mouth. My mouth drops open slightly. I did not see that one coming. I thought it was something Southside-Northside related or something, but it was mainly just a love thing. I wouldn’t peg Sweet Pea as the relationship-type of guy. He looks more of a fling kind of guy. Someone who just goes for one-nightstands. Not that anything’s wrong with that. “Maybe she was just drunk?” I try to reassure him, but he shakes his head. “She’d just gotten there, and Josie doesn’t drink. I think they’re actually serious,” he shakes his head at his own words. “Can’t believe I was that stupid to fall for her.” I reach forward and place my hand on top of his. “You’re not stupid, Sweet Pea. You don’t decide who you fall for. That’s the thing that sucks about love. If we could decide who we fall and don’t fall for, there wouldn’t be such a thing as heartbreak.” A small tear escapes from my eye as I think about my own ex and how much heartbreak he’d caused me. “Why did you want to leave the party?” he then shoots the question back. I take a deep breath first. “I’ve never been a big party girl. I was never invited to any of the cool parties since I’m the theater nerd. But then Reggie and I dated for a while. At the first – and last – party he took me to, he tried to get me in his bed when I didn’t want to… Ever since, I didn’t even dare to show my face at parties, let alone at school. Reggie had damaged me, really broke my heart. So, being there tonight reminded me of that one party, especially since Reggie was there too.” “So, we’re both kind of avoiding terrible exes then?” he questions, and I nod in response. “Yep, but at least we got the most important roles in the musical, and they didn’t,” I say and hold up my glass. Sweet Pea grabs his too and clinks it with mine whilst looking me in the eyes. A shiver sends down my spine as our eyes stay locked when we’re taking a sip. “Can I ask, is Sweet Pea your real name?” Sweet Pea places his glass down as he shakes his head. “It’s actually Noah, but my mother, before she died, always called me Sweet Pea after her favorite flower. So, ever since she died, I told people to always call me Sweet Pea, as to never forget her. To always have a part of her with me.” A single tear rolls down his cheek as one does down my cheek too. “See, now I’m crying too. You’re not alone,” he says, and it reminds me of one of the songs we have to do as a duet together. “You're not alone” I sing softly, making him look up and then sing the next part as if on automatic pilot. “And when the morning comes” I give him a small smile and echo, “When the morning comes” “We'll burn away that tear, and raise our city here,” he sings. A sparkle flickers in his eyes. “Raise our city here” I echo again, and then we sing the next line together. “Our love is God” The both of us stop there. I doubt a diner is the right place to rehearse a song together and belt out the lyrics. “You’re a great singer, Y/N,” he then compliments and a smile tugs at his lips before he wraps them around the straw and sips from his milkshake again. “Thanks, Sweet Pea,” I say, not being able to stop a blush from spreading on my cheeks. “You’re really good too. You should join the drama club. We’re in need of some strong male lead vocals.” Sweet Pea chuckles as I grab another fry. “I don’t think drama club is for me,” he replies with a grimace. A pout pulls at my bottom lip. “At least come by sometime? We don’t come together during musical, but when all this is over, I’m taking you to a drama club meeting and you’ll see that there is a place for you.” “You know what, I might actually take you up on that offer.”

[susoftjockau]

The Plan - Part Three (Ophelia)

Ophelia had a simple home. Well, an apartment. From what Connie could tell — through the rambles she endured and how Ophelia would stumble into the living room with a giddy languid nature — is that she stayed with her mother, kept the chores three-fourths on her, and she loved baking.

And baking was a pastime that made itself very apparent.

In the small kitchen, cornered by a bookshelf and a stack of beanbag chairs, the cabinets were filled to the brim with flour, bags, chocolate and white chip sacks, and cocoa powder en masse. The oven had trays with baking paper already in place — dabs of cookie dough, other pans filled with chocolate mix under the searing orange through the compartment window. Connie never knew someone's enthusiasm for baking could outweigh how logic for working in such a small kitchen. She noticed the surfaces, the amount of ingredients just for it, where only a few packages of vegetables, eggs, and a cheese slab made their home inside of the main contents of the apartment fridge.

How long had this been going on? Was it a passion? A hobby?

"You hanging out fine?" Ophelia, smile dazed and ready, lounged right next to her on the couch as music from her radio fizzled with pop and R&B. Both of them had their hair held up by scrunchies — a precaution, knowing how it wasn’t that tasty finding hair in one’s own baked goods "You look sore, or whacked out, or something."

The word choices put her off for a second, but she answered, "I'm okay. I'm just surprised you prepared all this just to hang out." She rubbed her neck. The preparation was an understatement. The cheerleader, while cooking, would cradle the mixing bowls like they were children, keeping everything in-check, peering at a wrinkled notepad decked with sticky notes on an open space between the utensils and ingredients; she got Connie involved from the very beginning, leaving her to help with measurements, pouring powder and sugar and cracking eggs till they covered their fingers in batter. It surprised her they could clean themselves up so well in the aftermath, but the main shocker came from the passion, the fixed wanting for it.

"Aw man, it's nothing. Well, actually, cooking's pretty gnarly stuff when you come down to measurements and everything, but I wanted to make you feel okay with me." Ophelia grinned at her, flexing her bicep a bit — she didn’t know why. "Cause when you think of cheerleaders, what do you see?”

Connie blinked at that. “Well, I’d expect them to be talkative and charismatic.”

“But have you seen those old flicks where they were seen as bimbos or the cruelest sons of bitches in the world?”

“Erm.”

“Heathers. Mean Girls. Glee. Bring It On. Romy and Michele’s Highschool Reunion. Pretty in Pink. Always perceived as the promiscuous bunch, the mean ones, the rowdy socialites?”

She pressed her lips. She did see those stereotypes before. In fact, she still saw the cheerleaders in that way; it wasn’t out of malice, but it was hard to relate to a talkative bunch of people like them without drowning somehow. “Yeah.”

Ophelia nodded to herself, clicking her tongue. “People always see cheerleaders as preppy mall types, so I wanted to ease you out of that with something nice, so why not baking? It’s something that I’m into, no doubt, but isn’t it just nice to focus on an activity where you’re busy and the only goal was to just chow down or be satisfied — to be happy with one’s progress rather than speak much and make it a lil’ awkward?” Eye contact. “Ya’ feel me?”

She had a point. It definitely did get her to ease up over this whole ordeal, especially at the waft of chocolate and vanilla. It had a quality, charming overall, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe it was the ease of something calming and focus-oriented? Something she could just work on without allowing her brain to focus so much on something that could leave her anxious and terrified? It probably was that. Maybe. "Well, I had fun with it," she couldn't help a smile, just a small one. "I haven't done baking in a long time so it’s a nice recap."

"Then when the oven’s finished, feel free to chow down on the grindage." She leaned more into the cushions, the smell of old wood and flour becoming a bit more intoxicating — a dance of two worlds, of homely delight. "We deserve a good day's work."

It took hours of batter creation, but it was worth it. "All right, I will." But there was a question on her mind. Before they started their entire process, she always wondered why they didn't touch the brownies under the baking paper — the one that laid aside from the rest, the wafting of a keen smell that made her lick her lips at the thought. It was the usual smell of chocolate, but with a specific drift in it that left her intrigued over why such a platter was left alone. "But why didn't we just eat the ones you'd left alone?"

Ophelia looked at her. "What?"

"The ones near the microwave. Were they for your mother or?"

"Oh, don't eat those."

"Why not?"

"They're edibles."

"Oh."

Well, that explained everything. However, the fact that Ophelia indulged in that type of drug wasn't something that made her feel...quite reassured, to be frank.

"It's not like I take this stuff like it's crack or something," the cheerleader piped up, voice going a tad higher. She looked relaxed before but now there's a wearing plagueness — probably from her own reaction, which didn't help the sliver of guilt. "I only take it when I have to relax. If I can give you the skinny about this whole deal, I just take CBD if the stress spikes; recreation is just that, keep a schedule on me so I don't just," she made a hand motion, a little explosion (sound effect included), "get into the weird statistics people like to harp about."

“Oh.” Statistics. The type schools would always harp about over the safety of ‘the youth’, even if they go a blind eye to many other things and become hypocritical of their own stances. “You won’t be part of it.”

Ophelia hummed. She left her body reclined, eyes closed to the world — a little beat in her shoes still there with its small rocking back and forth, pressing against the coffee table. “I keep myself healthy. I know the risks, it’s not like I’m an idiot. So I’m glad ya’ think so too.”

There was still uncertainty, but yet, there was the question of how far Connie could question this. Ophelia was responsible; Steven kept telling her back at the taco truck that she was a tank; always exercised on the daily and kept her own visual schedule to make sure her habits were intact rather than crumbling from lack of strong will. She saw the workout cords up on the walls, the dumbbells at the door. She couldn't just notch her as someone who didn't know what she was doing. It felt unfair to peg her like that at all. “I’m sorry about that. I’ve never considered that, I’m just—”

“Not use to recreation?”

Connie gazed at her. Then gave a relieved sigh. “Yeah, I’ve never had the opportunity to take these types of drugs. Never had someone tell me that they used it before, edible or otherwise.”

“And, don’t want to assume much,” Ophelia asked, “but you’re thinking I’m going to peer-pressure you too, huh?”

Silence. Then a nod.

“Well, no worries on my end, Constance.”

“It’s Connie.”

“Connie.” She coughed to herself, giving a nervous chuckle. Ophelia looked more relaxed, however, something Connie could look at as a good thing, better than just awkward chit-chat on a couch with nothing really that simple to fawn over. “I only give the edibles to people who want to go to the max on this stuff, and that’s that. I’m not going to be that weird guy who forces it at a dead-end party, basically any PSA villain that’s falling off the deep-end; it’s all up to the person and nothing else.” Her voice softened more, almost motherly in its tone. “The people who’ve done this do it than just for pleasure, sometimes it’s hard to cope with the fact we have tuition up the wazoo and sometimes we can’t handle the anxiety of problems we can’t handle. I could go on and on, but who needs a lil’ preaching in this day and age? Not me, even if it’s fun.”

She could finally feel herself calm down, relaxing into the cushions like a weight had been pulled. Ophelia wasn’t going to do anything wrong. She harbored a soft personality; she wasn’t going to coerce her or be intimidating about the whole thing. She was just Ophelia, and Connie was Connie. She didn’t have to be weird about it anymore. “Thank you.”

The cheerleader raised an eyebrow. “Why are ya’ thanking me?”

“For...educating me.” It was a simple answer. Nothing else had to be said.

Ophelia rang up in a giggle, eyes cracking open from their rest. “No problem.”

A ding went off. After a moment, both of them turned and peered at the kitchen entrance — the smell of chocolate so thick in presence, enough to overwhelm and please the senses. "Welp, the brownies are done." She stood up, bringing out a hand to her. "Ready to get stuffed?"

Connie smiled up at her finally. She grabbed her hand, allowing herself to be pulled up onto her feet. "I’d love to."

And maybe she could bring some courage to try out the edibles. But for now, she was okay as is.

- @morkthebork

[andiandyandee]

The Kids Will Be Alright, Eventually.

Oh yeah, guess who’s back with part three of this AU? 

(I’ll Give you a hint. It’s Me.)

Patton Gets into a fight.  That’s it, that’s the whole summary.

1,789 Words

Tagging @princemesscharming​ and @datfearlessfangirl​ for the same reason as last time. Let me know if you want tagged!  Ao3 Series  |  Last Words Pt.1 & Pt.2  | Run From What’s Comfortable Okay have the Fic

     Patton liked to argue that despite his ‘soft’ exterior, he was probably the one out of his family members most likely to end up arrested. Sure, that was probably because his righteous sense of morality meant he could not ignore literally anything he saw that was unfair, but he was also known for having a bit of a disregard for rules he didn’t think mattered, or those that were unjust.

    Patton’s fathers, Logan and Roman, did not realize this. When they considered their children, they always expected their older son, Virgil, to be the one to raise havoc. Which admittedly, was Patton’s fault. Patton was the younger of the two, taking on most of his surrogate’s features, including soft red hair and big green eyes that looked innocent no matter what he was doing. Virgil had a sharp face and white-blue eyes that always had some fire behind them. Virgil also was very protective over Patton, so he always took the fall for any shenanigans Patton got into.

    It had always been like that, since they had started kindergarten. Now, in their Junior year of high school, very little has actually changed. Today, though, Patton was feeling particularly high strung. He figured he had probably missed his meds last night, but regardless, he was itching to get into a fight.

***

    Patton and Virgil walked through the front doors of their high school, laughing quietly about the way their Papa had come stumbling out of his bedroom that morning in a Mountain Goats shirt with his hair standing straight up. They walked together to homeroom, the only classroom they were both in at the same time, when someone slammed his shoulder into Patton’s with a snicker. On instinct, Patton snatched the one who ran into him’s cell phone from his jean pocket and slipped it in his jacket pocket before kneeling down, as if he was hurt. The two laughed as they walked away, and Patton looked up at Virgil with an innocent look, flashing the phone to him. Virgil groaned.

    “Pat, I really can’t get in trouble again this week, can we please let it go?” Patton smiled at his brother sweetly.

    “Of course, Virge. I have to go grab my homework for Bolock’s class though. Meet you in homeroom?” Virgil narrowed his eyes.

    “If I’m in homeroom you will have to take the fall. You really want to risk your reputation here for some asshole?”

    “Sure do! See you when they make you drive me home!” Patton said with that same innocent smile. Virgil looked like he was considering just going with Patton just to keep his brother from killing the poor kid, but he shrugged.

    “Whatever, Pat. Don’t break any bones.”

    “No promises!”

***

    Patton found the two guys who ran into him leaning against the lockers in the athletic wing. He smiled as he walked up to them, his hands tucked into his jacket. “Hi, boys!” They looked over at him, a little confused. Patton rocked back and forth on his feet as he spoke. He knew that the cameras in this hallway didn’t have sound, so he made sure to make his face as pleasant as possible. They glared at him. “I’m going to give you thirty seconds to apologize for running into me, then I’m going to punch you in the face! What are your thoughts on that?” The two seniors glanced at each other and stepped towards Patton.

“Is that so, princess? I’d like to see you try.” The taller of the two swung at Patton, and Patton jumped back, feigning surprise.

“Woah! Are you sure you can handle me, darlin’? I’ve been known to cause some serious damage.” Patton said this all with a fake placating gesture, as if he wasn’t expecting this to escalate. The shorter of the two landed a punch, knocking Patton’s over-sized frames off his face and sending them flying across the hall. Patton wiped the blood away from his eye where the kid’s class ring had cut him and snickered. “Perfect, thank you!” The two looked at each other quickly before Patton’s fist connected with the shorter’s stomach, dropping him to the floor. Patton connected his knee with the guy’s chin as he went down, making a loud cracking noise, not unlike that of teeth breaking. The taller guy, Patton thought his name might be Tyler, grabbed Patton, spinning him around and swinging at him. Patton turned enough that the hit connected mostly with the side of his head rather than his nose, which is where the hit was aimed. “Nice shot, you should be faster, though.” Patton knew he was facing the camera, so he had a fake scared expression on his face. Possibly Tyler swung again, and Patton moved out of the line of the fist. He could hear the footsteps of teachers heading toward them, so he said loudly, “Please, I just wanted to-” Tyler dived at him, tackling them both to the ground, which was exactly what Patton had hoped for. Tyler was on top of Patton. “Wait- Tyle-” Tyler leaned back to swing, and Patton grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking him forward while swinging his head up at the same time, connecting the hard surface of his forehead to the much more fragile cartilage of Tyler’s nose. There was a loud crunch, and Patton pushed the now howling Senior off of him, sliding back, pressing his back to the lockers, fake crying and breathing shallowly. A teacher gently laid a hand on his shoulder, helping him to his feet.

    “Hey sweetheart, it’s okay. Let’s go to the office, okay?” The teacher said quietly, rubbing his back. Patton thought she might be an English teacher, but he had never been in her class.

    “Y-yes ma’am.” Patton stuttered. “Am I in trouble?” His lower lip quivered as he let the fake tears roll down his cheeks. Having Roman as a father definitely had its advantages. The two walked towards the office, but instead of going in, The teacher just stuck her head in and told them she was going to take Patton next door to the nurse's office. The disciplinary officer nodded at her and turned his glare onto the two older boys who were being dragged in by one of the basketball coaches.

    “No, no sweetheart. Come on. Do you want us to call someone?” The teacher sat him down in the nurse’s office, where the nurse immediately started fretting over him, wiping away the blood and asking what happened.

    “C-could you call my brother? Just so he can sit with me?” He asked, feigning a timid look. The teacher nodded, leaving the room. The nurse was applying butterfly strips to the cut on his forehead.

    “You aren’t usually the brother I see in here.” The nurse commented softly. “Virgil is the one who always somehow needs ice.”

    “I try to keep my head down,” Patton said softly. “I don’t like conflict.” Nurse Carter snorted

    “Sure you don’t kiddo.” The nurse winked at him. “Logan would have a heart attack if he thought one of his kids was a pacifist,” Patton smirked at that.

    “I-I just want everyone to get along!” He said dramatically, dropping his face back into that of a wounded puppy. It was at that moment that the disciplinary officer came in, pinching the bridge of his nose.

    “Patton, right?” Patton nodded. “Tyler and Zack are saying you started this fight. Is that true? Before you answer, know that we can review the security footage if your stories don’t match. We’re going to know the truth either way.” Patton feigned surprise.

    “No, of course not! Tyler bumped into me when I was going to homeroom and he dropped his phone, I just went to find him so I could return it. Oh! Here, can you give this to him? I didn’t- uh- get the chance.” Patton patted his jacket pockets, pulling out the phone. The disciplinary officer sighed and took the phone.

    “Okay. What homeroom are you? We’ll have to verify that.” Patton told him, and the officer left the room.

    “Should you be concerned?” The nurse asked conversationally, handing him some Tylenol for the bruises forming on the side of his face from the two successful punches.

    “Nope,” Patton said with a smirk. Virgil picked that moment to come skidding into the room, eyes wide and concerned.

    “Are you okay? They said you were bleeding and crying!” Virgil looked up at the nurse.  “Hi, Heather.” Nurse Carter waved. “What happened? I thought you were just taking him his cell phone?” He said this loudly, which probably meant the officer was outside the door. Patton was grateful that his brother was on the same page as him. It made lying much easier.

    “I-I was! But they were mean.” He let the last part sound timid at the end, almost a child's voice, but still loud enough that any eavesdroppers would hear. Nurse Carter was fake gagging, pretending to straighten papers. There was a knock on the door, and the officer came in, looking bored.

    “Okay, Mr. Sanders. We confirmed your story with the videos from your homeroom and from the athletic wing. Both of the boys will be suspended for the rest of the week and will have in-school suspension for the week after that. I think it would be best if you go home for the rest of the day. Patton’s lower lip quivered, and his eyes welled up with tears.

    “Am I suspended too?” He kept that timid tone he had used a lot today.

    “No, No! Of course not! We wouldn’t suspend you for being bullied!” The officer looked panicked. “But you’re hurt, and I’m sure you’re overwhelmed, and the administration wants to make sure you’re okay. You and your brother are excused for the day, and you will be excused tomorrow as well. These will not count against your attendance, and We’ll make sure your instructors know, okay? Virgil, you will be expected to be in attendance tomorrow, but you will be completely excused from missing the rest of today. We already called your father, who said you drove yourselves today, so you don’t need to be signed out.”

***

    When the brothers got home, Roman and Logan were there, comforting their youngest son and fretting over his injuries. Patton just let them, saying he was okay, just overwhelmed, it really was alright. Virgil was standing in the background pretending to slam his head into the wall. When Logan and Roman hugged Patton, for the first time unable to see his face since he came home, he winked at his older brother. He guessed it wasn’t so bad to be seen as the soft, innocent one.

(I love feedback, pls comment and reblog)

[aleteia-ff]

A Decade To Find You - 1

Also read on: AO3 | FF.net

I proudly present the first part of my Modern AU Hiccstrid New Year’s Eve Story! I hope you enjoy :) 

Summary: Astrid didn't think much of the guy she bumped into just after midnight on January 1, 2010. It was just a hasty apology, a quip and a lop-sided grin from his side. It wasn't supposed to be special.

Hiccup felt the same way. That was, until he locked eyes with her again one year later. And the year after that. And the next.

But somehow, their destinies only seemed to intertwine that one night a year... On New Year's Eve.

Chapter 1: New Year’s Eve 2009-2012

January 1st, 2010

Astrid didn't really party the way some of her peers did. She didn't sneak out or come up with poor excuses to get wasted with other teens after managing to get her hands on booze through older siblings. That wasn't like her. But that didn't mean she didn't seize opportunities, nor didn't know how to have a good time. So when her friends from kickboxing had asked her to join them in the inner city, she'd shot every piece of ammunition she had at her parents to convince them that at sixteen, she was responsible enough to stay out past midnight. She was basically an adult, after all. And after she'd promised that she wouldn't do anything stupid, let alone illegal, they'd let her go. 

Luckily, you didn't have to break the law to have a good time on New Year's Eve in Berk. The large annual winter market in the town's central square stayed around until after New Year's, serving all kinds of food and beverages at its stalls. She'd spent most of that night at the ice rink, but had gathered with her friends at the riverside just before midnight, joining in on the countdown and watching the fireworks when the clock hit midnight, announcing the arrival of the new decade.

Now, she was hopping from one feet onto the other, waiting at one of the stalls and trying to stay warm in the trademark Berkian cold. The line had been killing and she cursed herself for not going further into the city and trying her luck there. But her worries were forgotten when she accepted the two mugs of hot chocolate into her freezing hands. 

She turned around, looking through the crowd in an attempt to figure out where Heather was. Her friend had run into her brother and there was no telling what Dagur might be up to... But his red hair and tattooed face did stand out from the crowd. 

She squeezed herself through the masses, cradling the mugs to her chest, alternating between craning her neck and standing up on her toes. Finally, after starting to wonder whether she was even going the right way at all and looking behind her, she saw a familiar arm wave at her. She instantly turned around, heading the other way.

Her foot landed on something hard, making her stumble and bump into someone, all after only taking one step.

"Sorry!" a nasal voice yelped. 

She was too stunned to reply as hot chocolate spilt over her chest, dripping down and soaking her coat, the heat making her instinctively jump backwards. "Fuck!"

"Oh Gods, I'm so sorry!"  

She looked up - no, down - at the culprit. A skinny boy, about her age. His green - really green, Holy Thor - eyes were blown wide with shock and he was fidgeting with his hands, seemingly unsure of whether he should put them to use or whether that would bring about the impending apocalyptic events of 2012 two years too early. It was endearing, and while she normally would have had to suppress the urge to punch her assailant straight in the jaw, she found she simply couldn't. Because there was something in his look, so innocent, so sincere, that simply calmed her down. 

"It's okay," she told him, looking down at the brown stain on her coat. Luckily, it didn't feel like it had reached her sweater underneath. 

"No, it's totally my fault, I should have looked, I -" he mumbled, looking helpless as he rubbed the back of his head, messing up his auburn hair. "I was distracted, and I'm just so, so stupid, I don't know how -"

"It's okay, really," she repeated, slightly patting herself. "It's a way to stay warm, I suppose."

"It's not, I completely ruined your coat." He reached out towards her, but then retracted his hands, gesturing himself up and down. "Do you want mine, or?"

"No, it's fine, really," she insisted, following his gaze downward and finally realising what had made her trip. "I stepped on your foot, after all."

The guy looked down again, his two eyebrows shooting up. "You did?"

"I mean it was strangely hard, but..." she mumbled. 

"Oh..." he grinned awkwardly. "That must be me." He leaned forward and grabbed his left foot, lifting it up and pulling up his pant leg... To reveal a piece of metal. 

His lips curled into a lopsided smile. "Fake foot."

"Oh my Thor," she gasped. "How...?" She didn't know why she was asking - he was a complete stranger. But a part of her wanted to know. 

"Accident," he shrugged. "Happened this year, so I'm still getting used to it. Or I suppose it's last year now, since it's after midnight. Hurray!"

She wanted to laugh, to shake her head at him, felt the corners of her lips twitching upwards, but realised in time that it would be hugely inappropriate. 

"I'm so sorry," was all she could come up with instead.

"Eh," he casually said, his shoulders moving more than any normal person's ever would. "It happens. And I thought I was the one doing the apologising here."

"My jacket's not expensive, don't worry," she reassured him. She preferred practicality above anything else and this coat was exactly that. "I'm sure it'll come right out. And I'm not nearly insecure enough to let it ruin my night." She gave him a cocky smile. "I'll punch anyone who dares to try."

"So I simply got lucky?" the guy tried. 

"So far, yes," she teased.

The guy pretended to gulp and look panicked before his expression relaxed into a smile. "At least let me pay for the dry cleaner." He fumbled with his own jacket, seemingly looking for something. "If I can find my wallet, that is."

"It's fine, my mom probably knows how to wash it out herself," she tried again, but he kept patting himself down. "You didn't get robbed, right?"

"Oh, no, the odds of that are rather low. My dad's a cop," he explained, laughing awkwardly. "He makes sure I'm one hundred percent pickpocket-proof before even thinking of leaving the house. Which has this -" He gestured at himself. "As the very charming result."

"Then perhaps you should leave it that way," she suggested. 

"Yeah, that's probably..." He mulled for a moment, biting his lip and reaching into the back pocket of his jeans but coming up with nothing. "Yeah - I think you're right. Sorry, again."

"Let it go," she told him, finding herself smiling again. She gestured with the two mugs in her hand. "It's just hot chocolate."

"Is there even anything left?" 

She peered into the mugs and shrugged. "Enough for one, at least."

"Then let me pay for new ones."

She pulled up an eyebrow. "And watch you go through your whole wallet-searching routine again? Charming offer, but no, thank you." He looked slightly offended, to which she decided to press the other mug into his hands. "Here, take it."

He took it from her only because she forced him to, sputtering. "I can't -"

"I'll just give this one to my friend." She gestured at the brown stain on her clothes. "I think I've had enough for tonight."

"Again, I'm sorry -"

"Again, it's okay."

"Are you really sure?" the guy tried again, looking pensive.

"I am," she nodded. "Sounds like you had a shitty 2009, with your leg and all. A shitty decade, for all I know. I just want to make sure this one starts out better."

He looked like he wanted to speak up again, but she held up her hand. "I'm not letting you give it back!"

She backed away after properly looking over her shoulder this time. "Enjoy your night!"

He just stood there, flabbergasted. "You too..."

With that, she disappeared back into the crowd, finally making her way back to Heather, a smile on her face she hadn't even realised was there until her best friend asked what had made her so cheery. 

But she waved it off. 

It was something she didn't really think she could explain. 

-----------------

December 31st, 2010

Hiccup was oddly reminded of a donkey on this year's New Year's Eve. Most importantly, the saying that even donkeys didn't hit their toe on the same stone twice in a row. Yet somehow, he had managed to let Snotlout convince him to go with him to the inner city of Berk again. 

He didn't really know what kind of animal that made him, but he figured it didn't speak in his favour. Perhaps something without a brain. A jellyfish, maybe, just waiting to be inevitably washed up on a beach, then stepped on by a tourist, which would prompt the tourist's friends to pee on their leg. After a heated debate on whether urine did or did not actually help against jellyfish stings, a question no one really knew the answer too. 

Or he could, for once, make life easy for the rest of the world and simply settle for being a sea cucumber. Those seemed rather cool. And he could, in Hiccup fashion, enlighten other sea creatures on how he was, in fact, not a green-tinted, edible vegetable, unlike his land-born brethren. 

But his father worked on New Year's Eve anyways and he didn't really have anything better to do. So instead of chilling on the ocean floor, he was semi-freezing and sensing his impending demise as he stepped onto the white, slippery field of doom that was known as Berk's Winter Wonderland ice skating rink. 

He didn't get what people thought was so fun about literally venturing onto thin ice. He never had. And that hadn't really changed now that he had only one properly functioning foot. 

It would be fine, Snotlout had said. He had had the prosthetic for over a year by now, and, as his cousin put it so delicately, 'he already tripped over his own feet way less often than when he still had two of them'. So certainly, he could do this. 

Hiccup had told Snot, Fishlegs and the twins to go ahead so he wouldn't embarrass himself too heavily. Fishlegs hovered nevertheless, but did bring up the courtesy to look away.

He carefully put his good foot on the ice, only slipping slightly, and held himself up on the wooden banister. Slowly, he let his second skate join the first, putting the iron down and trying to adjust to the weird sensation of his prosthetic sliding underneath him. But he didn't fall. That was something. 

"Are you okay, Hiccup?" he heard Fishlegs ask. 

He didn't dare to look up, keeping his eyes firmly fixated on his skates. "Okay would be a big word... But it could be worse."

"Just take it slow," Fishlegs told him, almost sounding more nervous than Hiccup himself felt.

Only for Fish's tender words to be immediately diminished by Snotlout skating by at high speed. "Come on, cuz, move!"

Hiccup shook his head and scowled, but forced himself to move anyways, pushing his right skate off the ice and letting the other glide along, while still holding on to the banister as if it was the only thing between him and utter humiliation. 

It probably was. He could already hear Non Je Ne Regrette Rien play in the back of his head, announcing the inevitable fall of this story's tragic but not quite Leonardo DiCaprio-like protagonist the way it had in Inception. 

He bet Leo knew how to ice-skate. Not that that would have helped him in Titanic, like a bigger floating door would have. But then again, Leo could do it all with two legs. And stuntmen.

Fuck, he'd love to have a stuntman right now.

And he wouldn't say no to having sex in a car with 1997 Kate Winslet either. 

He slowly shuffled forward, letting his left skate slide calmly while his right did all the work. Surprisingly, it didn't go as badly as he'd expected it to. He dared to go further, letting go of the banister, daring to put some pressure on his left leg and start the motion from there. 

The Gods struck him down for his hubris as soon as he tried, leaving him scrambling for his wooden saviour as he nearly fell face first onto the ice. 

He pulled himself back up, leaning on the banister and looking out, pretending not to hear Fishlegs call out to him in concern. It was already dark, Berk's square lit by Christmas lights along with all the stalls and shops that feasted on holiday tourists. It was busy, this day belonging to the Berkians themselves above all, but he didn't pick out any familiar faces in the crowd.

Until he saw her. 

He had mostly repressed the memory of the first person he'd met in the new decade, given that he'd immediately embarrassed himself by causing her to spill hot chocolate all over her coat. Just some Hiccup Haddock smoothness, right there. 

But there she was, in the crowd. Her blond hair braided over her shoulder, a smile on her face as she talked to her friends. She was wearing a different jacket this year, a dark blue one that somehow suited her even better. He hoped that hadn't been his fault, that he hadn't completely ruined the red coat she'd worn the year before. But he was too self-conscious to go up to her and ask. Especially because moving at all on the death traps bound to his fake and real foot could only lead to disaster. 

She probably didn't want to talk to him anyways. From the way she looked, the way she acted, the way she smiled he could make out that he was way below her on the notorious teen social ladder. She was undoubtedly popular. He was all too happy in his nerd corner. It'd never work. 

Not that he believed in the strict segregation the way High School Musical portrayed it, but some people simply didn't match. It was better to, as the Wildcats put it so pointedly, 'stick to the status quo'. 

And then her eyes met his. 

She looked surprised to see him - Berk was at least a middle-sized town, after all, what were the odds? They hadn't seen each other since his clumsiness had miraculously resulted into a free mug of hot chocolate. 

But once she seemed to have recovered from that shock - he hadn't, he was gaping, desperately willing his brain to update to Windows 7 instead of clinging to Vista and claiming that particular piece of garbage wasn't Microsoft's biggest mistake of the last decade - her lips relaxed into a soft smile that made his heart jump. 

He glanced down at his skates, hoping she'd understand why he looked even more helpless than the last and only time they'd met. He hauled himself up further, trying to stand up straight - his growth spurt was finally setting in - and retain some of his dignity. 

Her smile widened, like she'd understood, and she gave him two genuine thumbs up before turning back to her friends and disappearing into the crowd. 

She'd gone as soon as she'd came. But he found himself grinning nevertheless, feeling more encouraged than he had all evening. 

Perhaps ice skating wasn't that bad after all. 

--------------------

January 1st, 2012

This was the year. Or so Astrid had been told. Supposedly "the most amazing New Year's yet!". 

She didn't think holding Heather's hair back as she threw up quite qualified as that, but at least her best friend had seemed to be having a good time. Right up until the moment she'd turned green and had rushed to the club's bathroom with Astrid running after her. 

Astrid hadn't seen the appeal of turning eighteen and being allowed to drink herself. She had enough going on, tournaments to attend in January, a brain to spare for the university she was trying to get into. But she was nothing if not supportive, and she loved her friends more than herself. At least, that was the mantra she silently repeated in her head as Heather hurled into the toilet yet again. 

She got her phone from her pocket, sliding the screen up to reveal the keyboard - it was simply quicker and way more convenient than typing on a touchscreen - and searched for Dagur's number. He would undoubtedly go berserk in his own way - he'd given them the 'big brother talk' before they'd headed into the city - but she'd rather deal with him than with Heather's parents. Especially Mr. Oswaldsson wouldn't be too... agreeable. 

"Hello!?" Dagur shouted from the other side of the line, hardly audible above the beat of Party Rock Anthem in the background. 

"Hey, Dagur, it's me!" she yelled back before realising there was no need to, cringing when her voice echoed through the stalls. Heather simply groaned.

"’Sup, Hofferson?"

"I need to get Heather home," she told him. "We got here by bike, but that could take ages, so I figured that, perhaps, you could take her on your scooter..."

"She's wasted, isn't she?" Dagur's obvious disappointment was ironically punctuated by LMFAO insisting that party rock was in the house tonight, and that everybody should just have a good time.

Heather shook her head at her, part of her black braid unceremoniously sticking to her face, but Astrid didn't think her capable of making any decisions right now. "Yep."

"On my way. Where are you?"

"Not So Silent Sven's Party Hut."

Dagur hung up immediately, leaving Astrid to haul Heather up onto her shoulder while her friend insisted she was fine and could walk by herself, only to immediately demonstrate the opposite. They struggled until they reached the door, somehow managing to get their coats before escaping onto the streets, the Berkian winter air pleasant after the suffocating heat of the club. 

They hung outside for a bit, waiting for Heather to sober up, but eventually stumbled further towards the main road, hoping to catch Dagur on his way. They had to dodge a lot of party goers who could hold their liquor better, along with teens who had fallen into the same pitfall Heather had. She felt a particular amount of sympathy for the dark-haired guy they passed, who was patting his skinny brunette friend on his back while he hurled the contents of his stomach into the snow, the sound alone enough to make Heather gulp again. 

When they passed them, the sick fellow looked up at her, their eyes meeting.

Astrid had only seen that combination of awkwardness and Oh my Thor what am I doing twice before. 

She waved at Fake Foot Guy, shooting him the kindest smile she could muster up without bursting into giggles. 

--------------------

January 1st, 2013

2012 had been a good year for Hiccup. Somehow, he hadn't brought about the end of the world the Mayas had prophesied would come to pass. Even though he, the twins, Snotlout and Fishlegs had been convinced that if anyone would be able to cause an accident of global scale, it was Hiccup. Yet he had managed to enter university, where, as his father put it, his destructive tendencies were finally channelled into a proper education to become an engineer. 

Living away from home wasn't abysmal either. If he was being honest, the train connection from Berk to university wasn't so bad that he had necessarily had to move out, but he figured it'd be good for him. It had certainly taught him a lot of things. How to open a can of pineapple slices without a can opener. How to separate white and coloured laundry. How to avoid salmonella. How to handle suddenly being six feet tall. How to cover up shaving cuts. And how to say no to more alcohol than he could handle. 

It was the reason he wasn't in the same condition he was last year and that it felt good to be back in Berk to celebrate New Year's. Because he knew he wouldn't embarrass himself. Or at least, not by vomiting into the snow.

Of course Hot Chocolate Girl had walked by on his lowest point of the night. 

Part of him wondered if she was perhaps some kind of spirit, there to feed on his awkwardness and the chaos he left in his wake. Then again, he'd only seen her three times, and his disaster-track record was much better than that. Three was a rookie number. 

By the time it was 2 AM and Tuffnut dragged them into a club that he swore was even more awesome than the previous one, Hiccup had started to believe he might not see her on New Year's Eve for the first time this decade. He didn't know why he wanted to see her - he had no idea who she was, after all, didn't even have a clue about her name. But he remembered her smile, her bright blue eyes, the way her blond hair framed her face perfectly... 

The exact same features as those of the girl he suddenly spotted on the dance floor, grinding up against a tall, handsome dark-haired stranger he didn't recognise. She was wearing a dress that remained blue in the club's lighting and fit her figure beautifully. It was the first time he properly saw her without a coat on, and he was struck by just how gorgeous she was. He'd had an idea, but it clearly hadn't been completely accurate. 

She might be the most stunning woman he'd ever seen. Even in her current state, her hair messed up, her eyes glazed over, muddled by alcohol as they miraculously met his. He didn't know if she recognised him. She didn't seem to. But he couldn't look away. 

Not even when she turned around to the stranger behind her, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him down into a kiss, the two of them making out as if no one was watching them. And he probably shouldn't be. He wanted to simply think 'good for her', to be happy that she was having a good time. But instead, he found his heart stinging with something unfamiliar. A kind of hurt he couldn't quite place.

He didn't mind when Ruffnut hooked her arm into his and pulled him back outside, remarking that Tuffnut had horrible taste and that they were going somewhere else. And even though he didn't do anything particularly stupid the rest of the night, he couldn't help but feel like somewhere, deep down, he was a bit of a fool.

He just couldn't pinpoint why. 

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter! I hope the second one will come soon. I plan for there to be 3, all the way up until we reach New Year's Eve 2019...

[musical-broken-heart]

Amnesia

Summary: Bill hits his head and is knocked out. When he wakes up he doesn’t remember any of his friends or his husband.  Fandom: IT (chapter 2) Extra: Stenbrough. Eddie and Stan live! Eddie is a doctor. 

The clown swung his arms trying to get any of the losers that now were grown. Bill backed up and tripped over something falling backwards hitting his head on the floor. Stan ran over to him swinging a bat at the clown as Beverly stab it with a crowbar. “Bill? Billy answer me!” Stan said holding Bill in his arms. “Eddie!” he said sounding nervous. Eddie rushed over and kneeled next to his friends placing two fingers on Bills neck trying to find a pulse. “He’s okay. Unconsiuce but okay. Richie, Ben, Mike! Help carry him out of here.” Eddie yelled as he and Stan lifted Bills limp body off the ground. 

“What if he doesn’t wake up? What if he’s injured so badly he’ll be hospitalized forever! What if he becomes paralyzed?!” Stan panicked pacing around Mikes living room his husband on the couch still unconsiuce. “Stanley chill! He’ll be awake in a few minutes. He didn’t hit his head hard enough to become paralyzed or hospitalized. The worst thing that could happen is- I’m not gonna get into that.” Eddie said not wanting Stan to worry more than he already was. Stan was about to say something but Bill groaned and sat up rubbing his head. Everyone looked and smiled sighs of relief filling the room. “What happened? Where am I?” Bill asked weakly looking around. 

Eddie walked up to him and smiled. “Hey Billy how you feeling?” he asked not expecting Bills response. “Wh-who are you?” he asked fear in his voice. Eddie stood there for a second not knowing what to say. Stumbling over words he finally found his voice. “Bill I’m your friends Eddie,” he said not wanting to get closer. He had dealt with this before. Bill shook his head. “Who’s Bill?” he asked his breath getting heavy. “Thats your name,” Ben said calmly. Don’t panic that will make him more worried. Eddie thought as he watched his best friend shake his head. “No. No, it’s not! My name-” He stopped and horror washed over him. “I don’t my name!” he yelled panicking. Eddie quickly grabbed his hands and looked at him. 

“Bill listen to me you have to tell me what you remember. Okay, you need to calm down. Tell me what you remember and I can try and figure out how to help.” Eddie said as Bill closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. “I-I don’t know,” he said quickly his head low as he leaned forward. “Tell me if any of these names are familiar. Richie? Beverly? Mike? Ben?” he asked Bill shaking his head. Eddie sighed and looked to Stan who looked heartbroken. “What about the name Stanley? Georgie? Zach? Sharon?” Eddie asked slowly. Bill was silent for a moment thinking about it but shook his head again. Eddie nodded and stood up. “Okay. Stay here I’ll be right back,” he said motioning for the others to go into the kitchen. 

“What the hell is that?” Stan asked sitting down running his hands through his hair. “Stan relax. Bill must have hit his head in a certain way that he got amnesia. The best thing to do is give him time and try and help him remember who we are. Don’t bring up Georgie or that clown!” Eddie said the last part mainly for Richie. Stan got up and walked to the fridge grabbing a beer. “Stan-” Mike started only to get cut off. “Don’t fucking talk to me.” Stan hissed walking out of that room to the guest room. “Eddie?” Bev started. Everyone knew what she was thinking. They were all thinking the same thing. “One at a time we’ll explain to him who we are. It could get very emotional so be prepared.” Eddie warned. “I’ll go first then, Ben,” he said getting nods from everyone. 

Walking back into the living room Bill sat on the sofa waiting for Eddie to come back. He looked lost and broken but happy to see Eddie. “I don’t know who I am or who you people are but I know I can trust you all,” he said before Eddie could say anything. Standing there for a second he smiled and nodded. “Thank god. I’m Eddie Tozier. I’m a doctor and we’ve been friends ever since 2 grade.” he explained. Bill listened and nodded. Eddie then went on the explain who Bill was and how much the Losers cared about him. 

Ben walked out of the kitchen to the living room and smiled at Bill. “Hey,” he said. Bill smiled and chuckled. “It’s weird for me too. I know we’re all friends and I’m sorry I can’t remember you.” he laughed as Ben shrugged. “Welp this is a better meeting then how we actually met.” Ben joked. They talked and laughed for a while before Mike walked in. Slowly one by one each Loser talked with Bill. Finally, Richie was the last to talk with him. “There was another person. He had curly hair. Where’s he?” Bill asked. “Bill that was Stan. Do you remember anything about him?” Beverly asked looking at the guest room door. 

“No sorry. Tell me about him.” Bill said rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe you should go talk to him. Let's just say you two are close.” Richie chuckled. Eddie slapped his husband across the head. “Richard! Stan is your husband Bill.” Eddie said looking at Bill who watched the door. “Oh. I should probably talk to him then.” Bill tried to chuckle but failed. Ben was about to say something but Bill cut him off. “No matter what you say I still feel bad. What kind of person forgets their husband?” Bill asked. “Bill you hit your head it’s not your fault. You couldn’t decide what you forgot.” Eddie insisted stepping forward to his friend. 

Sighing Bill went to the room and knocked on the door. “Who is it?” he heard from the room. It was muffled and sounded lost and broken. “Bill,” he replied hearing footsteps going to the door. Opening the door Stan shut it as soon as Bill was in the room. “I’m a horrible person,” Bill said after a moment of silence. Stan looked at him and shook his head. “No, you’re not,” he said walking over to his husband. “What kind of person forgets their husband?! Stan, I can’t remember who I am and I’m fine with that but forgetting you?” Bill couldn’t finish he just walked to the window. 

Stan looked at his husband and walked over hugging him. “We’ll figure this out. I swear Bill,” he said kissing the mans cheek. Bill grabbed Stans hand and kissed the ring on it. “I can’t remember you but I can remember why I married you. I remember that I love you.” Stan chuckled and ran his hand through Bill's hair. “Why’d you marry me?” Stan asked gazing at his wedding ring that matched Bills. “Because you never gave up on me. You were always there and I knew I could never love anyone as much as I love you.” 

Stan stayed silent as he cursed himself for the thoughts he had before Bill walked in. Why should I stay with him if he can’t remember me? Maybe I can find a girl and make my parents happy? Patty was nice. How could he have thought this? Tears began to form in the man's eyes and he tightened his grip around his husband. “Stan?” Bill asked causing Stan to cry harder. Bill wrapped his arms around the jew as they both fell to the floor. Stan. Not Stanny but Stan. Bill always said Stanny in a calm voice but this wasn’t his Bill. 

“I want you back. I want my husband back!” Stan cried in Bills chest. Bill held on tightly to the man and nodded tears forming in his eyes. “I know. I want to help I want to remember.” Bill said kissing Stan forehead. They sat on the floor holding each other for a few moments before Stan looked into Bills eyes. “I-I’m gonna go. See you in a few minutes, Bill.” Stans aid standing up. Bill nodded and walked to the bed sitting down. 

“Hey, Stan the man,” Richie said. Stan just hummed. “How's Bill?” Eddie asked taking a sip of his drink. Stan sighed and sat down. “I’m not the doctor,” he said running a hand through his curls. Eddie nodded and went to the guest room to see Bill staring out the window again. “Hey, Bill. How we doin’?” Eddie asked leaning against the door frame. “You guys are hiding something from me. I know it.” Bill said messing with the cuffs of his sleeves. Eddie sighed and nodded. “We are and we don’t- We want you safe-” Eddie was cut off from his speech. 

“I don’t care how safe you want me! I want to fucking remember my life! My friends my husband! Damnit, Eddie, I’ve had my memory gone for what 2 hours?! I’m going insane seeing all of you and hearing you talk about things trying to help me remember! Tell me the fucking truth-tell me what damned things you are hiding from me!” Bill yelled the others watching from the living room. Eddie sighed and paced around for a minute before looking at Bill again. “I don’t know what to do. I’m the doctor but what you want me to tell you I can’t. I-I can’t risk the things that could happen.” Eddie said. Stan walked behind him and put his hand on his shoulder. 

“Bill-” Stan started but stopped knowing the man wasn’t listening to him. Sighing he walked over and hugged him. “We should get sleep. Eddie?” He asked looking at the doctor who just nodded. “Night losers!” Beverly shouted before going to bed.

~Morning~

Stan woke up and looked around. Bill wasn’t there. There was no sign of him being there at all. Falling out of the bed he struggled to get untangled from the sheets and blankets as he ran to the door hoping to see his husband in the living room or kitchen. Grabbing his phone he looked through his messages. Reading the last things he sent to his husband. 

Bill: Flashlights right?

Stan: that would be useful in the sewers

Bill: I can hear your sarcasm from the store and over Richies bitching

Stan: Not my fault I don’t wanna be here

Bill: Poor thing maybe Heather will let you stay with her

Stan: Not funny. 

Bill: Love you

Stan: Love you too

Stan wanted to cry. He wanted his husband in his arms. He wanted that stupid lovable psychotic mess of an author in his arms! “Stan?” He heard Mike from upstairs. “I can’t find Bill!” Stan said his throat seeming to close his knees going weak. Looking at his phone again he tried to focus on one thing. 

Stan: Bill where are you

Stan: Bill answer me now!

Stan: This isn’t funny where the fucking hell are you right now

His hands were shaking his breath was barely there as he felt himself hyperventilating. “Stan you need to calm down!” he heard Ben say feeling him grab his arms and bring him to the sofa. he felt his phone chime and he pulled it out. 

Bill: You realize that something called a yard exists right?

Stan chuckled to himself and sank into the couch feeling himself calm down. 

Bill: did I worry you Stanny?

Stanny. That name. The nickname Bill had given Stan when his parents kicked him out. ‘I wont have a faggot for a son! Get out of my sight Stanley!’ his father yelled grabbing the 15-year old by his curly locks and throwing him out. ‘B-Bill I need a place to s-stay. M-my p-p-parents k-kicked me out.’ Stan said through tears as his boyfriend pulled him into his arms. ‘W-w-we’ll g-get through th-this. I p-promise. I-I’ll b-be here f-for you n-no matter what. I s-swear Stanny.’ 

Bill walked into the house rubbing his head. “Please tell me you didn’t try to hit your head,” Eddie said sounding annoyed. “No! I saw a dog and-”

“No!” Stan quickly said getting a glare form, Bill. “You are allergic to dogs we cannot get one!” Stan said again smiling knowing he had this conversation with Bill multiple times before. “Okay yes but-” Bill started smiling. Stan chuckled shaking his head. “Nu-uh!” he said sounding like a child. Eddie smiled and pulled the other losers out of the room giving the two time alone. 

Stan walked over and- forgetting for a moment that Bill couldn’t remember- pulled him in and connected their lips. Bills hands found their way to Stans curls well Stan wrapped his arms around Bills waist. “Sorry. I know you don’t remember-”

“Stanny. How did you ever forgive me?” Bill suddenly asked a smirk on his face. “For what?” the taller man asked his breath getting caught. “For dragging you and the others into those sewers to fight a fucking demon.” Bills laughed. Stan froze then looked into the man's eyes. “Y-you remember?!” Stan asked hope filling his voice. Bill smiled and nodded kissing Stans nose. “No matter what I will always be here for you,” Bill said. “Big Bill you’re back!” Richie yelled hugging him. “Trashmouth.” Bill chuckled. 

“So Stan about that dog I saw.” Bill started a hopeful smile on his face. “I love you but no!” Stan yelled causing everyone to laugh. “Next time Billy be careful what you trip over.” Eddie joked getting a nod from Bill. “Of course doc.” 

[trionacharlotte]

Turning Thirty

I’m turning 30 next year and it’s come to my attention that I’m running out of time.

People forgive you the introspection and uncertainty and series of bad decisions when you’re young. It may even be endearing, for a while. But when you reach 26, 27… there’s a definite air of pity and disapproval that filters through from your parents to your peers to your friends, and by 29 it’s unavoidable: you’re no longer ‘a bit creative’, eccentric, finding your way; you’re a liability, a lost cause, a very expensive mistake.

The sympathy you once stumbled upon gives way to judgment, shame, outrage: ‘What do you mean you don’t know what you want?’ ‘What are you doing with your life?’ ‘What’s wrong with a real job?’ ‘How are you going to pay for all this?’ ‘What’s the plan, exactly?’

I have to admit, they have a point.  What is the plan, exactly?

So I have decided to set about getting my shit together: not in the way I have been doing, or not doing, or failing miserably to do for the past ten years; but actually, evidentially, getting my shit together.

Not quite sure where to start, I decide I need resources…information…tools.  After scouring the internet, Twitter, magazines, newspapers and the bottom of a pint of frozen yoghurt, I begin to build my army of books, gadgets, workouts, clothes and inspirational people with which to embark on my noble quest: my getting of the shit together.

I start small.  Jillian Michaels is telling us to ‘Live your Best Life!’  It sounds good to me, so I buy Unlimited, Master Your Metabolism, Slim for Life, and six of her workout DVDs.  (Hey, when I’m in I’m all in.)

Patrick Holford says it’s all about vitamins.  A lot of people seem to disagree.  Clearly I should investigate.  I buy The Optimum Nutrition Bible, The Feel Good Factor, and The Little Book of Health Tips. (What? It was at the counter of the Health Store…in fact, maybe I should go back and get the other four.)

Medical Medium says it’s all about fruit and veg and celery juice every morning. I buy a juicer and commit to nutritional healing.

Spirit Daughter says it's all about intuition and inner work, writing moon journals for new and full moon ceremonies.

Heather Askinosie and Energy Muse say it's all about energy clearing and setting intentions.

Channel 4 says moderation is key: look what happens if you eat too much, look what happens if you don’t eat enough.  I watch two entire series of Supersize vs Superskinny, and another of The Biggest Loser.  I’m almost wiped out.

Fuelled by a caffeine fix, I find Emma Woolf on Amazon and start ploughing through; An Apple A Day, The Ministry of Thin, and, oh my god, she’s got a new one! Letting Go. It’s a sign.

I sign up to DoTerra and fill my flat with essential oils and vitamins.

On a roll now, a yoga friend recommends two books to read for your health: Your body’s many cries for WATER: you’re not sick; you’re thirsty by Dr F Batmanghelidj and The Magnesium Miracle by Carolyn Dean MD, ND. Stocking up on fruit and veg I peruse the magazine stand for Women’s Health and a colouring book catches my eye. Fully stocked, prepped and ready, I survey my supplies.

Crystals are everywhere. I've been studying feng shui. I'm even planting seeds - it helps to nurture things when you're suffering with depression.

Aware Saturn, Jupiter and Pluto are all in Capricorn, I'm learning the hard lessons. Karma's a bitch. Systems don't work. And everything I thought I knew about myself gets rearranged. In it to win it, I plough on.

What's next? I ask myself. What's next?

[the--blackdahlia]

Too Young to Fall in Love Chapter 24 (Dirt!Nikki x Reader)

Title: Too Young to Fall in Love 24

Summary: Nikki Sixx was a hard partying musician on the strip. He never expected to fall in love with anyone, until a girl knocked on his dressing room door looking for a ride home and took his breath away. Just like everything else Nikki did; the drugs, the money, the music; Nikki went hard with love. (Y/n) Bass never expected the bassist of Motley Crue to be the one to shake her calm and calculated life up. She had a plan. Graduate school, become an epic producer, and watch from behind the scenes as her brother’s band rose to fame. Nikki and (Y/n) were perfect for each other, too bad her brother, Tommy, didn’t think so.

Series warnings:  Smut (18+ Please), drug use, language, referenced miscarriage, drug overdose, mentioned attempted suicide, out of character moments for everyone in the band, the timeline might be a little screwy but it’s fanfiction! I know nothing of music production and my medical knowledge is really screwy, so it won’t be accurate.

AN: I couldn’t have done this without @flamencodiva, so make sure to give her some love for it too.

Three Months Later

“Heather…” (Y/n) sighed. John and Vanessa were on vacation and Tommy was on tour, leaving (Y/n) and Heather to hang out. And Heather was determined to make (Y/n) happy again. “Why are we here? Your friend doesn’t want to see me.”

“Yes he does! I told him all about you,” Heather said as she gave (Y/n) a small hug. “Besides, he is dying to meet you. I promise.”

“Heather, I don’t need a date.” (Y/n) sighed. She really just wanted to go home. She missed Nikki and she really didn’t think a date was a good idea. But Heather just shook her head. She wanted to see her future sister-in-law happy again, like she had been when she first met her.

“Yes you do. You were with Nikki for how long? And you’re mopey. And he’s a good guy I promise.” Heather led her to a table where her date was waiting. “Just call me later and we’ll get the girls together.” She pushed her into the booth and ran off. It took (Y/n) a moment to get her bearings before she looked across the table to see a blond man sitting there, laughing some.    

“Sisters-in-laws.” (Y/n) sighed. “Well, almost sister-in-law.”    

“So, you are Tommy’s sister.” The guy laughed.    

“Yeah, that’s me.” She sighed. “No, I won’t go by Lee.”    

“I just know you from your work with Metallica. But Tommy brags about you on the strip a lot.” He told her. “I’m Bret.”    

“(Y/n).”

*********

Nikki groaned as he pushed the girl off him. “Good (Y/n) that was amazing.” he mumbled as he stumbled off the bed. The knocking on the door was incessant. Walking to it he opened it to find Doc on the other side of it. “What?”

Doc looked down at Nikki’s full frontal. “Clean yourself up. You have a visitor.” He turned to leave. “And for the record, her name is Carly, not (Y/n).” With that, he was gone. Nikki looked back at the bed. He had sworn last night he had went to bed with (Y/n). It hit him then (Y/n) was gone. And there was a good chance he lost her forever. Putting on pants he walked downstairs.

“Frankie!” a woman called and pulled up to him. His mother was standing there, in the very lobby of the hotel he was staying at, acting like he didn’t have her arrested years ago, acting like they were the happiest family in the world.

“That’s not my name,” he felt his chest tighten again. The walls were closing in. He needed to get out of here.

“Frankie, sweetie, I just had to come see you.” She smiled. “I saw your picture in the magazine with that sweet girl. Where is she?” She looked around. “I want to meet my future daughter-in-law.” She didn’t realize that she had just lit the match that would make Nikki explode.

“That’s NOT MY NAME! MY NAME IS NIKKI! And you are not going anywhere near (Y/n) you bitch!” Nikki looked at Doc. “What the fuck is this?” is stormed off.

“What...what just happened?” His mom asked softly. Doc followed Nikki, who was pacing outside.

“Nikki…” Doc said. “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing bringing that bitch here! I called the cops on her for a reason DOC! I trusted you man.” Nikki bit his thumb and shook his head. “She comes here asking about (Y/n) and saying bullshit things like having a daughter-in-law when I HAVE NO MOTHER and the only family I had, left me.”  NIkki stormed back inside up the elevator and back to his room. He needed a few things before he could go to his dealer for more stuff. He needed to numb the pain, needed another escape.

***********

“You know, that’s the most I’ve smiled in a long time.” (Y/n) admitted to Bret. They had closed down the place, making their way out as the waiters closed up. They stood outside the restaurant, smiling at each other. (Y/n) had drove there, thinking that she was meeting Heather for drinks, not realizing it was a surprise date.    

“Well, go out with me tomorrow night and I’ll make you smile more.” He suggested. (Y/n) smiled at him. A voice in her head was telling her not to. She still loved Nikki more than anything, but Bret was so sweet. And he really did make her laugh. She had been so upset recently that she couldn’t remember when the last time she had felt happy was. The voice in her head was ignored as she responded to him.  

“Okay. It sounds like a date Mr. Michaels.” He kissed her cheek, smiling at her.

“It’s a date,” he said as he waved and walked to his car.

“I’ll see you then.” She turned around, seeing Heather right behind her. “Son of a bitch! Heather! You can’t just sneak up on me like that!”

“Are you guys going to go out again?” she smiled excitedly.

“Uh, yeah. Tomorrow night.” (Y/n) blushed. “He’s a nice guy. I like him…”

“That’s good!” Heather smiled. “I can’t wait to tell Tommy!”

“I bet he’ll be ecstatic.” (Y/n) sighed. “I’m gonna go home now. I’m tired from work and everything.” She had moved into her own apartment. Her first time on her own, and it was really lonely. She had thought about getting a pet, but she was so busy and couldn’t give it the proper love that she needed to.

“You want me to keep you company?” Heather noticed the sad look on her face. “It’ll get better (Y/n).”

“Yeah. Come on.” They went to (Y/n)’s apartment, and a few drinks later, (Y/n) decided she wanted a new tattoo. “Heather, please take me? I promise I won’t get anything related to him on me this time.”

“I don’t know (Y/n) last time I took you, you wanted to get… what was it again?” she sighed trying to remember the design.

“This time is different! I’m not getting anything music related or anything. Promise!” (Y/n) smiled at her. “I have the perfect things that I want!”

“Fine,” Heather sighed, “Lets go.”

A few hours later, Heather finally was taking her home. (Y/n) whimpered when her back rubbed against things.“Told you I wasn’t getting anything music related.” She laughed.

“Yeah but you look like you’re in pain,” Heather smiled. “Is that really the best spot for it?”

“Where else do wings go?” (Y/n) said, closing her eyes. “Home Sweet Home” came on the radio then and Heather went to change it. “No, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” Heather looked at her, “I have no problem changing the radio. Maybe we can find some Madonna? Or Jackson?”  

“It’s okay Heather. I promise.” She smiled at her. “I can’t deny that they have good music.”

**********

Nikki sat staring out his hotel room, he couldn't remember what city they were in but he didn't care. Taking a chug of Jack he grabbed his pen and notebook and began writing.  But everything he tried to write came out like shit. He groaned and tossed his notebook beside him. Why was he struggling so much?

“Hey bass player you in?” Mick said as he opened the door.

“Unfortunately.” Nikki groaned. “Am I missing the show?”

“We finished hours ago man,” Mick sighed. “You are really out of it.. Well you and crazy jack who keeps getting cuffed to the damn bed.” Mick said talking about Tommy. “What’s wrong?”  

“Lost my ability to write.” Nikki grumbled. “Why is this so hard? I was writing song after song just a year ago!”

“What changed?” Mick shrugged knowing the answer.

“She took that with her when she left.” Nikki sighed. “Why can’t I get over her Mick?”

“Who can say bass player, maybe because she is the only girl you actually gave your heart too?” MIck sighed. “I did tell you about his. If you remember, the good ones always come spiraling down when you drag them with you.” Mick looked at Nikki. “For what it’s worth, you two were happy but you guys just weren't ready for the big leap you were thinking.”

“I wish I would’ve went home that night. Then she wouldn’t be gone.” Nikki sighed.

"Are you sure about that bass player?" Mick asked.

“Of course I’m sure. I fucked up one too many times and it broke her. If I would’ve just gone home…” He sighed and looked down. “Without her, I don’t know what I’ll do…”

"I know that face," Mick leaned back and smiled. "You got a song."  Nikki quickly grabbed his paper and started to write. He bit his lip as he worked. The room was spinning a bit, but he needed to write this. Maybe it was his chance to get her back.

"Oh man this song is going to be epic! You are sure to get her back with this." Mick said as he looked at Nikki. "What?"

“I...I can’t put this out there. Not yet.” He told him. “It’s not ready yet.”

"What? But Nik…" Mick began.

“No. And don’t tell anyone that I have it. I can’t…” He sighed. “Not just yet.”

"Ok, whatever you say." Mick muttered as he took a drink. "So Tommy is getting married…"

‘Yeah.” Nikki said. “Wait, do you...do you think she’ll be there?”

"Well she is his sister," Mick shrugged. "Could be a possibility and you're the best man."

“Maybe I can win her back there.” Nikki suggested.

"You can try," Mick sighed. "What's the worst that can happen?"

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[language-of-love]

this is it, this is the happiest I’ve ever been...

Summary: Just a little bit of light angst and definitely some fluff as David and Patrick do some wedding planning...

xxxxxxxx

“Oh, I emailed the song list over to the DJ this morning, so you can mark that off your list.”

Patrick adds an X in the correct row of his “COMPLETE” column on his spreadsheet, internally grateful that he won’t have to listen to any more romantic comedy soundtracks any time soon now that David has finally made his choices of appropriate love songs for the reception. He’d taken to just nodding and smiling whenever he saw David’s face alight with joy as a new tune filled his apartment, not caring in the least about the song as long as David was happy.

“And I dropped the deposit check off at Heather’s for the food. She’s so excited to debut her mini quiches at the cocktail hour.” Patrick adds another X, glad he had time to squeeze in that quick trip this afternoon to knock the last big financial dent off their list.

“I’ve been telling her for years that she needed to get into prepared foods,” David muses triumphantly, and Patrick notices that the ink from his journal has bled onto the side of his hand, giving it a purplish hue. He’s not sure why, but he finds it adorable and doesn’t speak up to tell David about it.

The closer the wedding looms he’d assumed they’d be fighting more, but like everything else about their relationship they just compliment each other with this, too. And event planning is David’s strength, so it felt natural to Patrick to just let him take the lead.

“Patrick, you still need to sign off on the photographer. I sent you the two I narrowed it down to, but you haven’t said which one you prefer.”

“Honestly, David, pick whichever one you liked best. I trust your judgement.” And he does. Truly. David has proven to be a curator of beautiful things and Patrick, he’s more than happy to just stand back and enjoy the finished product.

David doesn’t say anything in response. In fact, he doesn’t say anything for a good five minutes, his pen scratching idly in the margins of the page of his journal with his current to do list. And Patrick knows he’s done something wrong. But he isn’t entirely sure of what exactly the issue is, so he waits, knowing David well enough at this point that eventually, he’ll find the words. Despite a few stumbles early in their relationship, they’ve actually become pretty fantastic communicators. But he’s pretty sure that’s because of the store. After one stupid fight went on for two whole days, making their personal and work life suck in equal measure, they made a pact to just say whatever was on their minds, no matter what.

When David sets his journal down, Patrick braces for David’s “no matter what”. David notices the ink on his hand then and looks down at his white jeans, horrified momentarily before his inspection shows no damage has been done. And once again, Patrick adds another memory to the forever growing column labeled “ADORABLE” on the “DAVID” spreadsheet that lives at the front of his brain.

When David’s eyes find his, Patrick’s sure he sees the fond look on his face as David’s brow relaxes just a fraction.

“Should I be worried at your lack of opinions on our wedding?”

Widening his eyes in genuine surprise, Patrick sets his laptop down on the coffee table so he can turn to face David, placing a hand on his thigh and giving it a light squeeze.

“Babe, I honestly thought you liked making the decisions and I trust you'll make everything perfect. I’m sorry if I led you to believe that I don’t care.”

He’d started calling David babe a few months ago and he’d assumed he’d get push back, but David had quickly caught his lips for a lingering kiss against the kitchen counter the first time it slipped out. Patrick took that as silent agreement he could continue, but just in private.

“I do...like deciding things. I just, I guess, I need to know that you’ll be happy and I won’t know if I’m getting everything right if I don’t know what you want and what you like…”

David is rambling a bit now, but he’s also covered Patrick’s hand with his, his fingers threading between Patrick’s fingers in that way that he does when they are both lying in bed reading their books on a rainy afternoon. It’s almost absentminded, the way he will be totally engrossed in what he’s reading, but he’ll reach out as if he just needs that little bit of contact to feel connected.

“David…”

He shifts his gaze from their joined hands to see David already looking at him, expression a bit lost, which Patrick never likes to see. So, he tells David want he wants.

“Candles.”

“What about them?” David’s eyes narrow slightly, obviously confused.

“I want candles...on the tables, in the corners, as many as we can light without setting everything on fire. And before you ask, no, I honestly don’t care what kind of candles, as long as we have them.”

As soon as he’s said that out loud, he’s a bit mad at himself for not putting this desire out there until now. And he can suddenly understand David’s annoyance at him a bit better. Because it’s something he’d been thinking about, but other things seemed more important and he just never mentioned this one thing he wanted aloud.

David is looking at him thoughtfully, but Patrick sees his mouth is slowly nudging itself into a small smile.

“I like candles, so that’s something we can do. Can I ask why?”

A quick puff of air escapes Patrick’s nose as he turns his hand under David’s so he can hold it properly, pulling it up to his lips so he can brush a few quick kisses to his fingers between his engagement rings.

“You can ask me anything, you know that.” He says this knowing David’s reaction will be a quick drop of his head to hide his blush, which he does, but then he’s kicking off his shoes and turning towards Patrick so he can curl up onto the sofa and into Patrick’s chest. Patrick’s heart blooms with love for the man tucking himself beneath his chin and he wraps him in tight, pressing a kiss into his hair before he finds the words to explain.

“Back when I was still at Ray’s, you remember that night with the bad storm when we lost power?”

“Oh, yeah...and we had to dig around in the dark in Ray’s kitchen for candles, finding those yellowish ones that smelled kind of like musty rose or something....”

“And we took them upstairs and placed them all around my bedroom...and instead of fooling around, we talked. God, we talked practically all night, about everything and nothing and I remember thinking to myself, ‘this is it, this is the happiest I’ve ever been’ and every day since then…” David has lifted his head from Patrick’s chest and is gazing at him now. “...I’ve just been so fucking thankful that I met you and that by some crazy twist of fate we both ended up in this crazy town. Cause you’re the love of my life and I just want to marry you, with whatever cake and whatever music with any type of flowers, because you being there beside me is honestly the only thing that matters to me.”

A tear falls on David’s cheek and Patrick reaches up to catch it with his thumb, keeping his hand there so he can pull David in for a kiss. He didn’t mean to get that passionate, but from the look on David’s face, it was long overdue.

“We’re going to have so many candles that I’m going to have to tell Jocelyn she can’t wear any of her dresses from The Blouse Barn. Polyester is very flammable.”

Laughing soundly, Patrick closes the last inch of distance and kisses David’s smile. And David kisses him back, but pulls his mouth away entirely too soon.

“We’re not using Ray’s candles,” he declares, much the same way he declared the correct placement of the breath mints and the fugly red brooms.

“God no, those things smelled like feet.”

“So you’re saying the happiest night of your life was spent in the dark talking with me in a room that smelled like feet?”

Patrick nods. “That is correct.”

“Okay, I’m 100% fine planning the entirety of our wedding.”

Wrapping his hand around David’s neck, he draws him back in, kissing the mole on his chin before mumbling against his lips, “fine by me.”

[itsthesinbin]

Free

Tori ( @werewolfbeans ) has been feelin uuuuh Kinda Shitty lately, so I decided to bring some Original Content to my blog for once fdsdfjkfdsjkds

I own Sezzan, Heather is Tori’s.

Mentions of abuse

                                                  -----------------

This wasn’t her husband. Not anymore.

Harold was a cruel man. Heather had no illusions about how terrible her husband was. For their entire marriage, he was terrible. Ruthless.

To suddenly turn on his head and try to “make up” for everything he’s done? That wasn’t Harold. As much as she wanted to believe there was good in people… that wasn’t him.

Something about this house… when they moved in, she knew there was a spirit here. It made itself very obvious to her. But recently, it hasn’t been showing up as much. And, now, Harold is acting completely unlike himself…

Heather’s dealing with possession. She just has to figure out what it wants.

“Harold.” It felt odd calling it that, knowing it wasn’t actually him. The man looked up from his meal, giving her a “hm” in response.

“Did you ever find the key to the attic?” Some… odd look crossed his gaze, before he shrugged.

“Tried findin’ one- couldn’t. Realtors might have it, but they won’t answer my calls.” He began eating again, clearly trying to avoid the conversation. That cemented Heather’s idea.

She had to find out what was in the attic.

She waited until after dinner, having put sleeping pills in his food to make sure he wouldn’t come searching for her. She even kept herself up all night, waiting until three in the morning to sneak out of his hold, and out of the bedroom.

Whatever was keeping the attic hatch shut wasn’t working, as the stairs dropped easily. Clutching her flashlight and her hair pins, Heather quickly ascended to the attic.

She maneuvered around the antiques, going to the locked door on the far end of the attic.

It was clearly old, and it was easy to pick. It opened with a creak, making Heather wince and freeze up. No footsteps. “Harold” was still asleep.

She swept the flashlight over the room, seeing that it wasn’t very big. Crosses donned the walls, as well as hand-written script in… latin? She didn’t know for sure. She just knows it wasn’t english, and wasn’t easily recognizable.

Pictures were nailed to the walls as well. All of them containing… a figure. Some were blurry, and some were just bright, over-saturated figures.

Only one picture was normal, and it was of the woman from the other picture frames of the original owners of the house. The man looked old in this photo, but the woman looked the same as in all the others. She didn’t seem to age.

At the end of the room, below the picture of the unhappy couple, sat a strange totem. In the shape of a snake winding up a pole, crosses and strange symbols were carved into the wood. The totem sat in a chalk circle, which has, miraculously, not rubbed away after all these years.

Hesitantly, she picked up the odd item. Immediately, a sense of dread fell over her. Heather felt nauseous just holding the thing, like it was trying to sap her energy just from the contact.

“What’re you doing up here, Heather?” She turned, flashlight shining in “Harold’s” face.

“It’s dangerous up here- you should-” “Where is he?” Her quiet question made him pause.

“Wh… what?” “Harold. Where is he?” A flash of fear crossed his face, eyes darting between her own and the totem in her hand.

“I’m… right here, hon-.” “Don’t.” He took a step back when she held up the totem. Her gaze flicked down to it, before looking him in the eye again.

“Harold… would never love me. Not the way you’ve been doing. What do you want?” Her voice wavered at the confession. It hurt admitting it, but… she had no illusions about what kind of person her husband was.

He was quiet, hands pulling closer to his chest. Another clue to show that wasn’t him. He’d never look that scared.

“... I didn’t want him to hurt you anymore.” Something in his voice changed. It still sounded like Harold, but… an underlying tone that didn’t belong to him. Something… otherworldly. Heather felt her face soften and contort in confusion. Confusion turned to shock when tears fell down his face.

“I was… tired of watching him hit you. And scream at you.” It looked down at his hands, taking a shaky breath in.

“I thought… I thought I could stop him… Keep him under control, and… make you happy,” it’s voice grew quieter, cracking slightly though the tears.

“... Why?” It looked back up at her, and she could see some of… whatever it was slipping through. A pink glow came from Harold’s eyes.

“... You’re the only person in decades to realize I wasn’t just a monster.” It sounded… broken. Tired. Terrified.

“... What’s with this room?” It looked around, taking a breath in.

“... My… husband… used this as a summoning room. He would keep me here when I misbehaved.” It closed the door slightly, showing a bunch of symbols on the back. Along with claw marks.

“He made that totem to… trap me here. Keep me too weak to leave. It was my prison when he was alive, and it’s my prison in his death.” Heather looked down at the totem. No wonder it was so disgusting to hold onto.

“... How do I free you?” It seemed surprised.

“... Burn it… to ash.”  Heather stared at it for a moment longer, before beginning to move towards the door. It gave her a wide berth, clearly afraid of the totem in her hand. It followed when she was far enough away.

In the kitchen, she chucked the totem into the sink before grabbing matches.

“... Who are you,” she finally asked, turning to it before she did anything else. It shifted nervously, wringing their hands.

“... Sezzan. It’s… Sezzan.” She nodded slightly, before going to the sink again. Lighting a match, she set the cursed thing on fire.

The smoke was unnaturally black, and smelled of death. Heather stepped back, coughing slightly.

“... Sezzan.” They stood straighter. She was quiet for another moment.

“... When you leave… I can’t go back to how things were.” They froze for a moment, staring her down.

“... I don’t want to leave,” they said quietly. She turned to them, confused.

“Why? You’re free, now.” They shuffled for a moment, before stepping closer to her. She couldn’t help the flinch as they placed his hand on her cheek.

“I know we… couldn’t really talk until now, but… I don’t want to leave you here. Even if he’s gone, I… don’t want you to be alone. To… suffer in this house like I have.” The crackling fire finally went out, and a brighter pink came from Harold’s eyes.

“Even if you can’t love me, I want to stay here. With you.” Heather felt her eyes water slightly, before looking away from them.

“Not… like this. You… you’re nice enough, but… not with that face.” She looked up at them again.

“Maybe if… you show me who you really are… I’d… consider the idea.” They were quiet for a moment.

“Do you want him gone?” “Wh-” They stepped back.

“If I let him go, he’ll hurt you. He’s… very angry.” A sick twinge of fear made her stomach flip.

“... Can he hear us?” “Yes.”

“... If he was smart, he’d leave as soon as he could.” They hesitated.

“He’s angry. He’ll hurt you. He won’t leave. Please… don’t let him stay.” Heather was quiet.

The catalyst for this… possession… was when he beat her hard enough blacken her eye and bloody her lip. He’d been escalating. If he was as angry as they say he was…

“Can you just… make him leave,” she finally said, voice barely a whisper.

“I’d do anything for you.” His body was encased in a black substance, before it seemingly melted off of him. He stumbled, falling to his knees as the inky abyss began forming into a figure.

Eight feet tall, solid black with no visible facial features. Except for four glowing, pink eyes. Curly black horns and a spaded tail formed from their body, and the click of hooves on the tile floor made her twitch.

She looked up at them, eyes wide. They were beautiful.

Harold was passed out on the ground, and Sezzan reached down to pick him up.

“What are you going to do with him?” They were silent as they made their way towards the back door.

“... Get rid of him.” They left before she could say anything else. Even if he was terrible, the idea of him dying… she couldn’t help the tears that fell.

When they came back, she was sitting at the table, trying to calm herself.

“... It’s done.” Heather stood as they came over.

“... Did you really mean it, when you said you wanted to stay,” Heather asked. They brought a hand up, but hesitated on touching her. She looked at their hand for a moment, as large as her head with scary claws.

She held their hand between both of hers, looking up into their four glowing eyes. Their pointed ears drooped slightly, a light pink glow on their cheeks.

“Heather… I’ve been trapped in this house for decades. I’d have given anything to leave this place. But-” their other hand came up, holding her cheek- “if you’re here… I can stay here the rest of my eternal life.” She couldn’t help the heat that settled on her cheeks.

“... I’d… be willing to try, at least,” she whispered, embarrassed at how… open they were. A delighted, animalistic noise.

“Thank you, Heather. For everything.”

[notamyope]

Kara wears crocs when doing the do with Lena

- - -

She had meant it as a joke, a teasing remark to Sam and a means to enable a trend that Ruby had been getting into.

“Don’t you know?” Lena asks in a matter of fact tone, “Crocs are all the rage right now. They’re what all the cool kids think are hot.”

Ruby had brightened up at that of course, giving a pointed look to her mom as though to say, “See? I told you so!”

Sam, on the other hand, had narrowed her eyes in disapproval before (begrudgingly) allowing Ruby to drag her into the Croc Store to shop for a pair, while Lena followed, amused to no end  as she watched Sam’s conflicted expression while she helped Ruby pick something out.

She should have known that Sam would find a way to retaliate.

“What are those…” Lena asks, and God… She wishes that she could just stare lovingly at Kara’s face as per usual, but a very bold, very bright, very red feature pulled her attention straight to Kara’s feet - to which Lena was pointing a rigid finger toward.

To her horror, she found that her nails (that she had just gotten painted earlier that day) were not only matching her new lipstick that she had gotten recently now, but also matching… those.

Kara glances down at her own feet, before looking back up at Lena with a beaming smile.

And God, Lena would usually lean in to kiss that beautiful smile, but her attention stayed completely on the-

“Crocs!” Kara proudly states, “Sam said you really like them, and I had a pair but never- … Anyway, I wanted to surprise you!” She glances down once more, rocking back on her heels and clicking the inner sides of her shoes (if they could be called those) together once before straightening back up. “They’re really comfortable! I missed wearing them.”

“... is that so?” Lena asks

“Mhm.” Kara emphatically nods, her eyes skimming over Lena’s attire. “You look beautiful by the way… Are you ready to head out?” Kara asks, a dopey, love-struck grin on her face that Lena always finds irresistibly adorable and is typically inclined to kiss. So she does, and she feels Kara’s smile widen in return.

She leans back, completely ready to go out and embrace the fact that some more people might stare at them when they notice Kara’s bright red crocs, but realizes that a bit of her lipstick was left imprinted against Kara’s lips. She can’t help but stare as a mixture of feelings arise in her chest; amusements, pride, and-

“Lena?” Kara calls out in concern, “You okay? We don’t have to go out if you’re not feeling up for it.”

The smudged lipstick moves with Kara’s lips, and Lena can’t help but wonder how many more imprints she can leave on Kara’s invulnerable body that never allows for her to leave marks. She feels a sudden need to find out and-

She licks her lips, “How about-“ she takes a step forward, her hand barely raises as it ghosts against Kara’s belt, “-we stay in… instead?” She says in a suggestive tone, making her point by tugging Kara by her belt and through the door frame.

“Oh!” Kara allows herself to be pulled forward, eyes dilating as she kicks the door shut after. Hastily, she leans forward to wrap her hands around Lena’s waist, lips near rushing to find painted red ones.

“I take-“ Lena pulls back and away, a salacious grin on her lips as Kara tries to follow after. “-that you’re okay with this?”

“Uh-huh.” Kara mumbles, her own lips smiling as they trail in pursuit.

Teasingly, Lena keeps leaning further and further back, causing Kara to continue stepping forward until their legs get caught up with one another, nearly toppling the two over off balance as a result.

Arms tighten around Lena’s waist to balance her, as the two yelp in different pitches before humorous laughter bursts into the air between them.

The next thing Lena knows, she’s hoisted up in the air, squealing in delight as her legs automatically wrap around Kara’s own waist, arms sliding over shoulders and across Kara’s back as red heels clatter to the ground.

And the two childishly giggle as Kara swings her around once, before hurriedly -almost skipping- toward Lena’s bedroom, and just about falls on top of her as they stumbled down to the mattress.

“Why, Miss Danvers, I would have never guessed you were a lot stronger than you looked.” Lena playfully says, trying to get a hold of her laughter as she reaches up to cradle Kara’s face. “You must work out a lot.”

Amusement flickers across Kara’s face, but she tries to play along, giggles still spilling from her lips in bursts, “ Not too much, but I’ll do it more often just for you.”

“Wow. Just for me? I’m absolutely swooning.” Lena declares as dramatically as she could.

The corner of Kara’s eyes crinkle, her head just barely shaking as it comes a little closer to Lena’s - causing the tips of their noses to burst together, as though to wordlessly say, “You’re silly, and I adore you.” She leans in for a gentle kiss instead.

Lena breaths it in, her hands sliding to the back of Kara’s neck to play with blonde curls.

Chaste kisses turn into slow and languid ones, with small nips.

Slow, languid kisses quickly turn into heated ones in just mere moments, just as Kara’s hips begin to grind into Lena’s.

It’s not long until Lena is stripped out of her blue dress, and kissing down Kara’s throat and chest to slip her heather purple button up off, leaving a short, scattered trail of smudged lipstick stains in her wake.

“Switch with me.” Lena says, as Kara’s shirt is discarded to somewhere in the room, her Super Suit absent due to request for the night off for their date. “So I can take you out of these.” She enunciates, insistently tugging at Kara’s belt from the sides and thrusting their hips together, garnering a whimper.

They flip over, Lena straddling over Kara’s thighs as she makes quick work of the belt and zipper, pressing a loving kiss just a little way’s at the side of Kara’s belly button, in the corner of an ab.

Lena continues south bound, peeling navy blue slacks down along with Kara’s undergarments, alternating kisses between thighs with lighter and lighter imprints of her lipstick. Just as pants past knees, Kara pulls her legs up to help pull it off the rest of the way - that’s when something very bold, very bright, very red, catches Lena’s eyes.

She sits up, watching Kara flail with her legs in the air as she clumsily tugs at her pants to come off, thinking - maybe it was just a part of her imagination. Or maybe, Kara will have the courtesy of slipping them off when she finds that they’re the reason why her pants are still stuck.

The navy blue slacks come off with a triumphant, “Ha!” And no… Apparently, Lena wasn’t just seeing things.

“You’re… You’re really wearing those? Right when we’re about to have sex?”

Kara pauses, looking up at Lena with wide eyes before glancing down at her feet. “Oh!” She laughs, “I forgot about these.”

“Uh huh…”

“They’re just so comfortable! I guess I just didn’t realize that I still had them on.” Kara emphasizes with little (and adorable, to which Lena will begrudgingly admit to herself and only herself) foot kicks.

“Right…” Lena forces her gaze away from the crocs, an incredibly hard feat to manage, and looks up at Kara expectantly.

Kara doesn’t show signs of being clued in however, and instead leans back in for another kiss.

To which, Lena allows. Who was she, to deny her adorable girlfriend?

However, as she falls back onto her bed, Kara’s hands trailing down and back to unhook her lacy bra, the red catches her eyes again.

“Kara-“ Lena breaths, and God… she wishes she wasn’t so turned on right now so she could actually sound serious, but it’s hard not to be when her girlfriend is nipping down the column of her throat. “Kara, you need to-“ a groan springs forth as fingers tweak a nipple.

“I need to?” Kara mumbles, lips nipping and peppering kisses across Lena’s chest.

Lena arches her back, hands sliding into Kara’s scalp and lightly tugging in encouragement.

“What do I need to do, Lena?” Kara whispers,

“You need to take your shoes off.” Lena breaths

A pause.

And the next thing Lena knows, the comfortable pressure on top of her lifts off and she looks up to find Kara propping herself up.

“What?”

Oh… She guesses they’re actually having this talk right now. Which, she really wishes they wouldn’t have. They shouldn’t be having this talk in all honesty, especially when Lena was already hot and in the mood.

“Your… crocs, Kara. You need to take them off.” Lena explains.

“I’m- Do you not like them?” Kara asks, lifting herself off so she’s just simply straddling Lena, and leaning back on her heels to properly look at her shoes.

“I- That’s not the point, Kara.” Lena tries. “I just, don’t want shoes in the bed. That’s all.”

“You wore heels just last week for sex…” Kara points out, “And what do you mean that’s not the point? Do you not like them?”

“Heels are different. Besides, you liked them.” Lena explains, “And I never said that.”

“I do like them. They looked great on you.” Kara amends, “But I don’t get how it’s different. And you never said that you liked them either.”

“They’re okay.” Lena acquisies, which is the truth. She may not personally enjoy them, but it was obvious that Kara did, which is just fine - she can wear them out anytime they’re together, however, “Just- I don’t think they’re right for sex.”

“You were fine with them earlier.” Kara grins, leaning back down on her elbows. “You didn’t seem to mind.” She says, pressing a kiss against Lena’s cheek.

“That’s because I didn’t notice them.” Lena exasperates, though it comes out more content, happy to have Kara’s warm body over her once again as she slides her own hands up Kara’s spine.

“Then stop noticing them.” Kara mumbles, pressing kisses back down to Lena’s chest.

“Do you have a thing for wearing crocs during sex, darling?” Lena tries to joke, but the heat between her thighs starts building back up again, and she only manages to sound breathy. “Because, if you do… I wouldn’t mind.”

“Maybe I’m just keeping them on out of spite now.” Kara says, nipping at Lena’s soft stomach, easily leaving a mark just below her rips.

Lena moans, feeling Kara’s wicked grin trail further and further down, and she knows that she’s lost. So she allows herself to succumb to Kara, climbing to peaks once, twice…

She’s lost count when they’re well into the night, marks and bruises scattered all over her body as Kara’s body drapes over her own, head resting against her chest as she plays with blonde curls.

And then, she feels Kara’s body begin to shake before giggles suddenly take hold of her.

“Croc sex.” Kara whispers, “We had Croc sex.”

Lena groans, this time fully capturing the sound of exasperation, and she turns herself to her side. “We’re not talking about this.”

“You wanted to talk about it earlier.” Kara laughs, wrapping an arm over Lena in protest of being pushed away.

“So you could take it off.” Lena points out, hand coming up to hold onto her girlfriend despite her current irked mood.

“To ask me if I had a thing for wearing crocs during sex.” Kara corrects, giggles still bubbling out of her chest.

Lena can’t find it in herself to even try to be remotely serious due to Kara’s contagious amusement. “And it seems that you do.”

“Nooooo.” Kara drags out, “You do.”

“I’m not the one who wore them during sex, love.”

“But you are the one who got off to the one who did wear them during sex.”

“You’d get off even if I wore them.” Lena says.

A pause, and a chaste, loving kiss is pressed against Lena’s temple, and she happily sighs, allowing warmth to spread through her chest. “Maybe you should try and find out.” Kara whispers teasingly.

And Lena smacks Kara’s hand, garnering a loud, delighted squeal, followed by loud laughter as Kara burrows her face into Lena’s back.

She turns around, smile on her lips, to press another, loving kiss to Kara. “I love you. Even when you’re in crocs.”

“I love you too.” Kara breaths, grinning from ear to ear. “Does this mean we can have croc sex again?”

“Good night Kara.”

[alilactree]

Fic: My Heart Stumbles On Things I Don’t Know

*Emerges from the abyss with a Schitt’s Creek fic*

*Returns to the abyss*

It’s just because she’s been on her mind a lot, really, that Stevie notices how nice Twyla’s smile is. How her hair has flecks of copper in it where the sun catches just right. The little dimples in her cheeks as she lists salad toppings.

Or: Stevie realizes some things. It's not about Twyla, except that it is.

On AO3

Alexis comes into the office near the very end of Stevie’s shift, already dressed up in what looks to Stevie like a slip but with no back that definitely cost an unfathomable amount of money. She leans over the desk and pretends to ring a bell, complete with a cheery, “Ding-ding-ding!”

“Yeah I can see you.” Really only peripheral though, as Stevie doesn’t look up from her book and doesn’t take her crossed feet off the front desk. Alexis coming in to the office can mean anything from needing extra linens to coming up with a terrifying new marketing scheme for the hotel to wanting to ask Stevie some random, seemingly abstract question that really has to do with something else; most likely Alexis’s life.

“Hmm, can you though?” She sets her chin on her hand and pouts, then grins once Stevie gives in and looks at her fully. “Come to the bar with me, Stevie. David and Patrick are in my room being, like, disgusting.”

That gets Stevie’s attention. She drops her feet and places her book face-down on the counter. “What are they doing?”

Alexis takes a breath, then leans across the counter to grasp both of Stevie’s hands in hers and  then leans in even closer. She looks into Stevie’s eyes like Stevie invented oxygen or something, and then ratchets it up even further by rubbing Stevie’s knuckles and looking up her through her lowered lashes. She bats them.

Stevie snatches her hands away. “Gross.”

“Yeah,” Alexis stands back up in order to look like a not love sick human. She bats her hair away from her face. “Right.”

So after Mr. Rose comes back for the evening shift, Stevie heads down to find Alexis and isn’t surprised to see her waiting at the car. Stevie knows she’s happy for David, just like Stevie is, so happy, but also like Stevie maybe wishes she could be happy for herself, too. Or at least, not alone tonight, and since Jake is… she doesn’t know where, and frankly doesn’t care, and Alexis is doing this thing where she’s trying to be a better person and also be happy for Ted who has Heather, which has to be way harder than being happy for David since she’s in love with Ted still and everything. David told Stevie. David tells her a lot of things she’d rather not know. Stevie suppresses a shudder and hikes her bag up higher.

“So where to?” Stevie says as she approaches. “I’m kidding, there’s only one bar.”

“Hmm,” Alexis says, in a fake-laugh sort of way. She plays with her hair distractedly and looks around.

“Expecting more party-goers?”

“Oh? No? I mean yes? Twy is coming?” Alexis says, still distracted, though not by Twyla, Stevie is certain. “Anyway!” She seems to refocus, for the time being. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Sure,” Stevie says. “Why wouldn’t it be?” She and Twyla aren’t friends or anything but Stevie likes her okay. Which is surprising because Twyla is never not earnest and friendly and Stevie is— Well. Stevie should find it annoying, Twyla’s whole thing, but. She doesn’t, not completely.

“Hi you guys!” Twyla pulls up, true to form with a genuine smile stretching her face. “This is gonna be so fun! So fun.”

It is not particularly fun, but there’s booze and… booze and it beats sitting at home alone, she supposes. Though at least there the floor isn’t sticky and cigarette smoke doesn’t burn her eyes and she doesn’t have to get hit on by someone her grandfather’s age and doesn’t have to listen to Alexis talk about how very much she is not into Ted anymore, no way, not even a little. So, there’s that. Stevie drains her drink and signals the bartender for another.

“And like, he can kiss whoever he wants because I— Okay— And it’s like— Hmm, you know? Hmm-hmm! And I don’t— I’m happy? For him? And me. I’m happy for me which is the whole, like— Point? And I can kiss as many girls as I want, too. So. Yeah.”

“Totally.”

Stevie has been sort-of listening, perched between Alexis and Twyla on a lumpy barstool while Alexis says a lot without saying much of anything and Twyla actually doesn’t say much of anything. She wonders if Twyla’s cheerful nodding along and totallys! are the same as Stevie’s placating yeahs only Twyla is an actual nice person so probably not. Wait. Stevie sits up from where she was half-slumped on the bar.

“Are you… You’re like David?”

“No.” Alexis says emphatically, offended. “Ew.” She pulls at a section of her hair as her face goes from mutinous to confused. “Wait, how am I like David?”

Stevie hesitates, uncomfortable now. She probably shouldn’t have said anything. But it’s out there and when she looks at Twyla she gets a cheerful shrug and now they’re both waiting for Stevie say something so, fine. “Like. The whole, uh, liking the wine but not the label?”

Alexis narrows her eyes, still pulling at her hair. “Is this about the time I was dating that Australian wine executive who was using the company to run a money laundering scheme? Because I’ll tell you the same thing I told the ASIO: I didn’t know about the koalas.”

“That’s—No. What?” Stevie shakes her head. She doesn’t actually want to know, at all, the less she knows about the Roses’ strange wealthy person bizarro world the better. “I mean about you kissing girls.” She lowers her voice on the last two words, in case it’s something Alexis didn’t mean to be public knowledge.

“Oh!” Alexis laughs and pretends to slap Stevie’s arm, a light brush of her fingertips. “No silly. It’s a figure of speech.”

“Is it?” Stevie says.

“Uh, yeah. And I have, but just.” She flutters her hands around as if that’s supposed to mean anything. “I mean, everyone has, right Twy?”

“Definitely!” Twyla sips her drink through a tiny straw.

And that’s the problem with Twyla being so agreeable and earnest, how can anyone tell when she actually means something? Though even Stevie can’t tell what she herself actually means sometimes thanks to reflexive sarcasm and a thick fog of cynicism. “So, you have also kissed girls,” Stevie asks, clarifying, shifting on her lumpy stool to face Twyla because she can’t be the only one of the three of them—

“Yeah.” Twyla’s smile falters, as if she’s suddenly unsure of herself. “Though I found out later she was married to my third cousin twice removed. Oh! And there was that time in Reno. And that other time in Reno…”

Alexis gasps and fake hits Twyla, reaching across Stevie to do so. Then gives Stevie a long, assessing look. “There is zero chance you haven’t.” She announces.

“And what does that mean?” It’s Stevie’s turn to be offended.

Alexis bugs her eyes out and starts to play with her hair again. “What?”

“What did you—“

“Hmm?” Alexis interrupts. “Hmm, what?”

Stevie doesn’t have the energy for it. “Never mind,” she mumbles and goes back to her drink. This is Alexis, who says nonsensical stuff all the time and Stevie shouldn’t give it another moment’s thought only… Only she is. A lot.

DOES EVERYONE KISS GIRLS she texts David later, flopped facedown on her bed, going through the trouble to type it in all caps, one letter at a time. She is, possibly, a lot, maybe a bit drunk.

Who is this? David texts back.

Stevie: David.

David: No see *I’m* David

Stevie: I hate you

David: I know

Stevie drops her phone on the floor, frustrated but not sure why, and then David texts again. Are you okay?

Stevie: Totally

Stevie: No

Stevie: I don’t know

David: Well that could not be more clear

Little gray text bubbles appear and then disappear and then reappear and David adds, Want me to come over? Stevie knows the hesitancy is because he’s with Patrick, like right at this very moment, and if she said yes she knows he would come over anyway because he’s a good friend and she loves him, actually, and all of that just makes her feels worse.

Stevie: No. I’m drunk. Tired. I’ll just sleep. TTY tomorrow

David asks if she’s sure and she says she is so she wiggles out of her jeans and flannel shirt and gets comfortable. She should brush her teeth but that’s a problem for Tomorrow Stevie. Tonight Stevie wants to sleep and not think about not kissing girls. Her phone pings with one last text.

David: I’m not currently kissing any girls if that helps. Also if you’re freaking out then don’t. It’s okay. You’re okay.

She smiles a little, breathing deeply to release some of the strung-tight tension she’d been holding in her body. She does get up to brush her teeth. Tomorrow Stevie has enough to deal with.

In the light of day, Stevie isn’t sure why it was such a big deal to her. She shouldn’t be surprised at all that Alexis made out with girls for no real reason because it seems as though Alexis used to do a lot of things for no real reason. It’s Twyla she can’t seem to wrap her head around. Because she dated Mutt and other men, too, but no women as far as Stevie knows. But she doesn’t know Twyla that well, not really, so maybe Twyla is pan like David or something close and if so how did she figure that out in a place like Schitt’s Creek? Stevie stops by David’s room before clocking in.

“How did you know?”

David is on his bed when she lets herself in, dressed and on top of the made-up covers, scrolling his phone. He looks up at her with one eye squinted shit. “It’s too early for you to be vague.”

“It’s ten-thirty.”

“Exactly.”

Stevie rolls her eyes and moves to sit on David’s bed, pushing his legs aside to a undignified, hey! “I mean, of course it was easy for you, in New York or wherever. But here. Living here, how would you even know if you… liked other wines? If you didn’t know that liking more than one type of wine was even an option?”

“Mmkay.” David swings both legs to the floor and sits up straight, depositing his phone on the nightstand and pursing his lips. “I know I came up with the whole wine metaphor but must we flog it to death?”

“Well maybe your metaphors are terrible,” Stevie says, but that’s not really the salient point here. The more she thinks about it the more she realizes that David probably isn’t the best person to talk to about this after all, because he’s known for a long time he said and can barely even remember not knowing he was into people of all sorts and types. She needs someone who didn’t know. To help her understand out how someone like Twyla would have known. “Patrick,” Stevie says and bolts for the door.

“Um, I was about to give you some very sage advice and now you’ll never know. Stevie!” David’s voice follows her even after she’s closed the door. “I have other metaphors!”

Stevie: Meet me for lunch?

Patrick: Tell David that if he’s too lazy to text me himself he can just call. It’s one button. One.

Stevie: No I’m asking for me

Stevie: You don’t have to

Stevie: It’s fine

It’s dumb, actually. Why does she even care? But while she waits and waits, her stomach twists into knots and she’s chewing on her lip and it’s just— She just needs to know. To settle it in her mind and then move on, like when she needed to know for sure that Mr. Rose would still be here to help her run the motel, like an itch in the back of her mind until she had it in writing.

Patrick: 1:00 okay?

Patrick is already sitting at a booth when Stevie arrives at Cafe Tropical, his hands folded politely on the table in front of him. And sitting at the booth behind him, in his fluffy black sweater and oversized sunglasses, is David. Stevie slides a look over to him after she scoots in across from Patrick, which David completely ignores in favor of scrutinizing his menu.

“Sorry,” Patrick says. “He was hungry and didn’t want to wait for me bring something back, but he promised not to listen in.”

“Is that what the sunglasses are for?” Stevie says, sarcastic.

Patrick presses his lips against a smile. “Actually, yes.”

She rolls her eyes in justified annoyance, though she is a little mollified to know that David is here under the guise of being too hungry to wait but is actually here because he cares. Still. “I’m putting my lunch on his bill.” David makes a little huffing noise behind them. “And ordering the most expensive thing here which is…” She flips though the massive menu and finally comes up with, “The Salisbury steak platter. Yum.”

“Okay nobody actually likes Salisbury steak.” David drops his own menu, then realizing he fell into Stevie’s trap, begins looking around as if he’s completely bamboozled to find himself in the cafe. “I mean. Um.” He picks his menu back up and hides behind it.

Patrick, who looks amused and fond and like he’s desperately trying to arrive at a neutral expression, clears his throat. “So, what did you— Is everything alright?”

She’d thought about just blurting it out, getting it over with, but the longer she sits here the less she actually wants to talk about this. It’s not even a thing. She just made it into one by overthinking and she should have just let it go. She opens her mouth to lie, say it was something about Mrs. Rose that had her worried but everything is fine now, but then Twyla comes to their table before she gets a chance.

“Hi guys! What can I get you?”

Patrick asks about what comes on one of the specials—a seasonal salad—which gets him a long explanation of everything in the salad and where it came from and all of his options to add in to the salad, which means Stevie gets lost in thought for a bit. It’s just because she’s been on her mind a lot, really, that Stevie notices how nice Twyla’s smile is. How her hair has flecks of copper in it where the sun catches just right. The little dimples in her cheeks as she lists salad toppings.

“Stevie?” Twyla is looking at her. That’s nice. She has nice eyes. Twyla is holding a pencil to her ordering pad, eyebrows raised expectantly. Right.

“I’ll have—“ Stevie shakes her head. She hadn’t yet decided and David was right, no one actually likes Salisbury steak. “The same. Yeah.” She doesn’t really want a Festively Fun Summer Salad and whatever it involves, but it doesn’t matter. She’s not very hungry. Embarrassed at whatever that was, Stevie pretends she needs her phone for something and avoids Patrick’s eyes. Unfortunately, she catches David’s. Sunglasses now off, he flicks his gaze minutely in the direction Twyla went off to, the looks back at Stevie and lifts one eyebrow. And just like that, without anyone talking her through it or having some crisis of sexuality right here at a vinyl booth in Cafe Tropical, Stevie gets it. It’s a shift, a slight tilt of her axis that means she needs a little time to find her center of balance again. Okay. She’s okay. She inclines her head. David gives a little half-smile.

“I’ve never um. I’ve never had that salad before.” Stevie fiddles with the silverware still wrapped in paper. “I guess I like the sandwiches I usually order so much that I never really considered it.”

“Well, it’s new…” Patrick says, not really getting it but getting that he’s supposed to be picking something up. Stevie’s head is down, but she can feel Patrick looking at her. The plastic on his seat creaks as he shifts, probably turning to look at David, then creaks again when he turns back. “I think, though, that it’s never too late to realize that you can like the salad, too?” His voice is uncertain, like he’s leading them both somewhere but has no idea of where they’re going, “Or—Or you can decide that you… don’t like the salad after all and that’s okay. Or that maybe you don’t like sandwiches as much as you thought because— because you didn’t even realize that the salad could taste so incredible.”

Stevie wrinkles her nose. “I don’t like this metaphor anymore.”

“I regretted the last part immediately.” Patrick smiles, his eyes once again dancing with amusement. “Was that— Was I anywhere close?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“I thought it was perfect,” David pipes up, craning around his table in order to be heard better. “Some people just can’t appreciate a well-crafted turn of phrase.”

“I thought you weren’t listening, David.” Patrick says.

“Still time to change my order,” Stevie adds.

He huffs.