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amazingmsme · 18 days ago

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Best Friends with Benefits

AN: merry late Christmas & happy new year @girltickles! I loved stepping in to write your fic! Thanks for being patient. It was so much fun, I love writing for this fandom! This fic is more ambiguously spicy than some of my other fics, but nothing really happens other than light bondage. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

They both knew this was nothing more than a fling. But it's not like Schitts Creek has much in terms of dating. Or in their case, just screwing around.

David was a surprisingly good lay, if a bit bossy and needy. But damn, did they have fun together. More importantly, Stevie trusted him. Enough to consider asking for something she'd wanted for a long time.

But she was hesitant. David was more than just another fuck buddy, he was her best friend, she didn't want to make things awkward between them. Although, she supposed by now, they were well past that point. David was only judgy about the little things; he knew better than to mock you when he could tell it meant something.

Still, that doesn't mean she wasn't nervous.

And apparently, she was being obvious.

"Is everything okay?" David asked, lying on his side to face her. The sheets were pulled up just above his waist, and Alexis found herself staring at his bare chest.

"Great."

"Okay, now I know something's wrong," he said matter of factly. She rolled her eyes, throwing her hands up in defeat.

"Nothing's wrong!" she insisted.

"Did you not like the tongue thing? I was just trying something new, and I-"

"No, no, the tongue thing's good. I liked it, a lot," she reassured, a slight flush dusting her cheeks as she thought back. "Just forget about it, it's stupid."

"Hey, whatever it is, it's not stupid. You can tell me," David said, reaching out to card his fingers through her hair. She hummed and leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.

"Promise you won't laugh."

"I'll try my best, but you're very funny," he teased, smiling proudly when she chuckled, smacking his arm weakly.

"Oh I know I am," she bragged playfully.

"Sooo," he prompted, dragging out the word to help lighten the mood.

"It's embarrassing."

"We've both seen each other naked," he deadpanned, as if that was the pinnacle of embarrassment. Either he was right, or she was about to prove him very wrong.

"Fair," she admitted with a slight tilt of her head. He stared at her expectantly, and she sighed. "So I was with this guy-"

"Ooo, tell me more!" he teased, getting more comfortable.

"I was!" she lightly smacked his shoulder, a smile already tugging at her lips. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Anyway, so he was just passing through, but we really hit it off. And oh my God, David, you should've seen him! He had this long dark hair, and beard, and abs for days."

"Okay, you did not just say "abs for days,"" David taunted, adding air quotes for dramatic effect. She scoffed, a bark of laughter slipping through.

"Shut up, he really did! But he was so hot, I already made up my mind that I was gonna do anything he wanted," she began to explain.

"Obviously," David nodded along, listening intently now.

"And one night, he uh," she paused, clearing her throat. Why was it so hard to speak all of a sudden? She could feel her face getting warmer and knew she was blushing. David bit his lip to suppress his grin. He'd never seen Stevie so flustered before... It was a good look on her.

Come on Stevie, just spit it out!

"He tied me to the bed and tickled me," she blurted out, pulling the sheets up to her mouth to muffle her voice.

"Oh," David said, blinking a few times in surprise. That certainly wasn't where he thought this conversation was heading. "Well, did you like it?"

She gawked at him, "Why else would I be telling you this?" A sly smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, small at first, but it grew with each massing second into a mischievous grin.

"Don't-"

"Aaaaaaw!" David cooed loudly, scooping her up in a tight hug before she could even think to escape.

"Shut up David!" she scolded, but didn't actually mean it."

"What, this wasn't the reaction you were hoping for?" he asked, his breath ghosting over her neck and making her smile.

It was actually better than she expected. David was a little awkward when it came to touch and affection, so the fact that he was so accepting must be a good sign.

"It's a bit much, to be honest," she teased, squeaking when he unexpectedly pinched her side.

"You literally asked for this!" he noted, unable to stop smiling.

"I knooow," she whined, reaching up to hide her face. He couldn't help but scribble his fingers in her exposed pits. She snorted, and David was hooked.

"Oh I gotta hear that again!" he cheered, straddling her waist as he wrestled her arms above her head. He was stronger than she gave him credit for.

It was... kinda hot.

"Sorry I don't have a cuffs or anything, it sounds like that guy was really prepared."

Stevie swallowed the lump in her throat. "He was."

"So what was, like, your favorite thing he did?"

"Um- I-" she stuttered, unable to find the words. David noticed she was having trouble, and decided to help her out.

"Okay, maybe that's too specific. Just tell me what you remember enjoying."

How the hell was he being so casual about all this?

"Well, for starters, his stubble felt horrible in the most amazing way-"

"Wait, should I be taking notes?"

"David!"

"What? I'm trying to give you what you want. Now stop beating around the bush!" he demanded, delivering quick pokes to her belly.

"Okay, okahay!" she conceded, already giddy for what was to come. "I-I really liked when he tickled my neck and ears," she began, a dark blush already spreading. "And uh, thighs are a good spot. Pretty sure I'll scream."

"Oh you will," he added smugly. She grabbed the pillow to hide.

"And he took a fuckin' hairbrush to my feet."

David arched a brow, "And how was that?"

"Awful."

"Awfully good," he taunted, earning a pillow to the face.

"But he used some kind of lotion or oil, and I swear it made it worse. Don't ask me how, but it did.

David flashed her a soft smile, "Are you telling me this because you know I have, like, a ton of scented oils and lotions?"

Stevie froze.

"What? No-"

"Be right back!"

"Wait, David! Where are you going?" she yelled as he leapt from the bed, already standing in the doorway.

"Just grabbing a few things," he said, shooting her a wink before he left, only clad in a pair of boxers. She fell back against the headboard, shaking her head fondly.

He came back with a small tote, various items sticking out from the top.

"Okay, so, I lied. I did have cuffs, I just had to go get them," he chirped, reaching in his bag to pull out a fuzzy pink pair of cuffs, dangling them for her to see.

She was speechless.

"I- uh- wha- what all did you get?" she asked in a stutter.

"That's for me to know, and you to find out," he purred, twirling the cuffs around his finger before crawling on the bed and straddling her. "Now be a good girl and put those arms up."

She closed her eyes, but did as she was told. "You're gonna fucking kill me, aren't you?" she accused.

"I doubt it," he shrugged off her concerns. "If you can survive the tickle expert, I think you'll be fine with me." He locked her arms in place, effectively trapping her beneath him.

"Oho my God, don't call him that!" she scolded, her blush darkening to a shade.

"I'm serious! And if I'm being honest, a little nervous!"

"You're nervous?" she asked incredulously.

"Full disclosure, but I don't have a lot of practice with... all this. So just... let me know if I'm doing something wrong."

"David, it's just tickling. It's not rocket science," she deadpanned.

"Oh," he cocked his head to the side, leveling her with a playful glare. He slipped a finger beneath her bra strap, pulling it back to snap against her shoulder.

"Ow!" she hissed, but it was more out of reflex than actual pain.

"Don't get sassy with me," he warned, but he knew she would. He was counting on it, actually.

"Will you just get on with it?" she honest to God whined. So excuse him for reveling in the moment.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," he drawled, making a show of cracking his knuckles before he got started.

Stevie braced herself for what she knew was coming, and yet, she still screamed.

"Oh wow, so you're like, super ticklish! I honestly didn't expect that, it's actually really cute," he taunted playfully, scribbling up and down her bare sides. She squealed, twisting her body any way she could manage.

"HeheHEHEY!" she tried to protest, snorting before dissolving into loud, carefree cackles. "I ahaham nohot cute!" she adamantly denied.

"Wanna try saying that again, without laughing?" he asked with feigned innocence. He crawled up her ribs before drilling his thumbs in her exposed hollows.

"Ohoho FUCK you!" she snapped back before thinking better of it. David's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and she immediately began to backtrack. "Nonono wahahait, I didn't mehehean thahahat!"

David retaliated by scribbling all ten fingers under her arms, enjoying the uncharacteristic squeal that escaped her.

"Really? 'Cause it really seemed like you did," he said without an ounce of sympathy. Stevie only dug her grave even deeper.

"So whahahat if I dihid?" she asked, sporting a cheeky grin that wasn't entirely a result from the tickling.

"You know, you can just ask me to make it worse. You don't have to be such a damn brat about it," he huffed, sounding more exasperated than he actually was.

"Whahat did you just call mehehe?" she asked breathlessly, staring up at him incredulously.

"A b, r, a, t, brat!" he spelled out, drawing each letter across her tummy, earning a shocked snort followed by bubbly giggles, finishing by wiggling a finger in her bellybutton. She arched her back with a shriek, falling into a helpless round of cackles. She shook her head back and forth, tugging uselessly on the pair of cuffs.

"OHOHOKAHAHAY! OHOKAHAY DAVIHIHID, I GET IHIHIT!" she managed to speak through her hysterics. David pulled back with a satisfied hum, giving her another quick breather.

"Glad we're on the same page."

She glared at him, a wide smile still splitting her face in two. "I fuckin' hate you."

"I wouldn't lie if I were you," he warned, wiggling his fingers threateningly. She flinched involuntarily, internally cringing at herself.

"Trust me, I'm not," she held firm, trying to look anywhere other than his hands, but her eyes kept darting back.

"Well in that case, you're about to despise me," he purred, leaning down to whisper in her ear as he straddled her waist. Without warning, he blew a raspberry on her neck, catching her completely off guard and shattering any tension that was building up.

"NOHOHO!" she screamed, trying her best to scrunch her neck for protection. David nuzzled in the crook of her neck, rubbing his stubble against her soft skin, nipping and nibbling lightly. Stevie felt her knees to weak, all the fighting strength she had in her slowly leaking out. "D- Davihihid, plehehease!" she whined, closing her eyes as tight as she could, as if that would somehow alleviate the torturous sensation.

"Please what, Stevie? C'mon, use your words," he cooed down at her, definitely intending to come off as patronizing. Before she could answer, he blew another raspberry, just to cut her off. She screams in his ear, desperately trying to squirm away.

She trails off into helpless giggles as he moves down to nibble against her ribs and sides, blowing small raspberries along the way. He gave her another quick break, just rubbing his stubbly chin on her belly, and she continued to giggle and hiccup as she caught her breath.

"You're sohoho mehehehean," she whined, hiding her face in the crook of her arm. David hummed in amusement.

"Actually, I'm being incredibly nice, seeing as I'm doing exactly what you asked," he so rudely pointed out. Stevie groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, don't remind me."

David chuckled, kneading from her sides to her hips, down her thighs. Stevie gasped before shocked, hysterical cackles filled the air.

"Okay, I won't," he chirped condescendingly, vibrating clawed hands into the muscle. She kicked and thrashed around, snorting and squealing all the while. He took his time, savoring every second.

By the time he reached her feet; she was nothing but a giggly puddle. He gave her another break, allowing her the chance to catch her breath and speak.

"You're ahawfully good fohohor someone so unsure of himself," she quipped through residual giggles.

David shrugged proudly, "I'm a fast learner." He drug a finger up the sole of her foot. Her leg instinctively jerked away.

"Lucky mehe," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

David smirked, reaching a hand inside his bag to pull out a soft hairbrush and bottle of lotion. "Very lucky."

#squealing santa 2k24 #squealing santa #stevie budd #david rose #schitt's creek #schitts creek fic #schitts creek tickle fic #ticklish!stevie

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nerdygaymormon · 8 months ago

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Favorite LGBTQ movie and TV quotes

“Um, I do drink red wine, but I also drink white wine. And I’ve been known to sample the occasional rosé. And a couple summers back, I tried a Merlot that used to be a Chardonnay, which got a bit complicated… I like the wine and not the label. Does that make sense?”

— David Rose, Schitt’s Creek, Season 1, Episode 10

“That felt so good to say. I feel like I just solved an escape room I’ve been trapped in my entire life.”

— Fabiola Torres, Never Have I Ever, Season 1, Episode 5

“Look, I’ll be hurt either way. Isn’t it better to be who I am?”

— Eric Effiong, Sex Education, Season 1, Episode 7

“Everybody’s story is different. There’s your version, and my version, and everything in between. But the one thing that all of those stories have in common is that moment right before you say those words when your heart is racing, and you don’t know what’s coming next. That moment’s really terrifying. And then once you say those words, you can’t unsay them. A chapter has ended, and a new one’s begun, and you have to be ready for that.”

— John, Happiest Season

“The good thing about being different is that no one expects you to be like them”

— Ellie Chu, The Half Of It

"When I'm with Brittany, I finally understand what people are talking about when they talk about love. I've tried so hard to push this feeling away, and keep it locked inside, but every day just feels like a war. I walk around so mad at the world, but I'm really just fighting with myself. I don't want to fight anymore. I'm just too tired. I have to just be me."

— Santana Lopez, Glee, Season 3, Episode 7

“Now, there is a long and honorable tradition in the gay community, and it has stood us in good stead for a very long time. When somebody calls you a name…you take it and own it.”

— Mark Ashton, Pride

“So I'm bisexual. So what? It's LGBTQ for a reason. There's a B in there and it doesn't mean Badass. Okay, it does, but it also means Bi.”

— Callie Torres, Grey's Anatomy, Episode 1105

“We’re standing here in Philadelphia, the, uh, City of Brotherly Love, the birthplace of freedom where the, uh, founding fathers authored the Declaration of Independence, and I don’t recall that glorious document saying anything about all straight men are created equal. I believe it says all men are created equal.”

— Joe Miller, Philadelphia

"Yes, I wear foundation. Yes, I live with a man. Yes, I'm a middle- aged fag. But I know who I am, Val. It took me twenty years to get here, and I'm not gonna let some idiot senator destroy that. F*** the senator, I don't give a damn what he thinks."

— Armand Goldman, The Birdcage

"Being gay is your thing. There are parts of it you have to go through alone. I hate that. As soon as you came out, you said, "Mom, I'm still me." I need you to hear this: You are still you, Simon. You are still the same son who I love to tease and who your father depends on for just about everything. And you're the same brother who always complements his sister on her food, even when it sucks. You get to exhale now, Simon. You get to be more you than you have been in... in a very long time. You deserve everything you want."

— Emily Spier, Love, Simon

"The greatest gift we can give each other is our authentic selves and sharing that. Sharing our truth is what will make us strong. So here I am. I am both human and alien. And I am a trans woman."

— Kara Danvers, Supergirl, Season 4, Episode 19

"But I feel more when I look at a picture of Kristen Stewart than I do when I kiss him."

— Elena Alvarez, One Day at a Time,

"You can’t change it. You can’t fix me. Because I’m not broken, I don’t need to be fixed, OK? I’m me!"

— Ian Gallagher, Shameless, Season 5, Episode 12

"Becoming me was the greatest creative project of my life."

Eliot Waugh, The Magicians, Season 1, Episode 1

"Every time someone steps up and says who they are, the world becomes a better, more interesting place. So, thank you."

—Raymond Holt, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Season 5, Episode 10

"I might be…bisexual, and you guys know I hate labels, but this one feels important right now to own the space I’m in and to make sense of it."

—Kat Edison, The Bold Type

#happy pride 🌈

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luucypevensie · 3 months ago

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🦔 + Reyna Baccay, please??

@dancingsunflowers-ocs 💖

YAS MY NEW BB GIRL THANK YOU ALEXANDRA! Tagging the moots: @ginger-grimm, @daughter-of-melpomene, @nikosasaki, @thetenthdoctorscompanion, @aliverse, @ginevrastilinski-ocs, @gabbysdawsons

If they celebrate the holidays. What do they do if they celebrate? And what do they do if not? When she was alive, Rey's family celebrated traditional Filipino holiday traditions. Basically, their house was in full on Christmas mode from September to middle of January, and Christmas Eve was a big thing consisting of going to Midnight Mass and having their Noche Buena ("Good Night") feast while Christmas Day is spent with the whole family going to Misa de Gallo ("Rooster's Mass") and visiting her extended family. When she became a ghost, Rey couldn't do any of her traditions with her family, which she was devasted about. As a result, Julie, Flynn, and the boys tried to do some of the traditions with her so she wouldn't miss out on them. Reyna had never loved them as much as she did the first time they partook in that first Noche Buena

If they died today and turned into a ghost, what would they do in the afterlife? Haunt their loved ones? Waste away? Joke's on you, Rey's already a ghost haha! She became a ghost after being murdered while walking home from Julie's house one night, and her time in the afterlife is spent trying to figure out who killed her with help from Julie, Flynn, the boys and her bandmates while also killing it up on stage with Las Mariposas

Their favorite sitcom: Schitt's Creek (Rey LOVES Alexis and the growth she made throughout the seasons)

Their favorite drama movie: The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Their current hyperfixation: Does creating lists of why Julie Molina and Luke Patterson, as well as Alex Mercer and Willie, are the OTPs count as a hyperfixation? Because, if so, then that’s it because my girl is crazy and doesn’t have much of a life as a ghost

Their favorite dish from when they were a child: Rey’s father makes an incredible adobo, which is a stew made with meat marinated in vinegar, soy sauce, garlic, and spices. It’s still her favorite dish, even after she died

How they accessorize: Rey loves to accessorize by layering a couple different necklaces (she has a necklace shaped like the North Star that was gifted to her by her mother, a chain necklace with a Saturn pendant on it that Julie and Flynn gave to her for her birthday one year, and a choker-style bead necklace she made herself around her neck), putting butterfly clips in her hair (she and Julie both love butterflies), and her earrings are usually in the shape of stars (basically, her style is very astronomy-based usually with a splash of butterflies)

If they cry easily: Before she was a ghost, Rey didn’t cry all that often. However, after she became a ghost, the tears did not stop coming (and I mean, who could blame her? She was MURDERED, for god sakes)

What makes them feel secure: Being around her found family after becoming a ghost (Julie, Flynn, Luke, Reggie, Alex, Willie, and her band)

If they could live in another country besides the one they were born in, what would it be? The Philippines because Reyna loves her culture and would want to surround herself with it

#oc: reyna baccay #fic: brutal #tv: jatp #oc asks #dancingwith-sunflowers #THANKS AGAIN ALEXANDRA

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broodytinygaycarmilla · 3 months ago

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Tagged by @greencloakedfae

Tagging @rudeamity and honestly whoever else wants to do it, have a blast, no pressure

3 non romantic duos:

1- Nell Jackson & Charles Devereux

Listen, they’re so chaotic in such a siblings sort of way (she says, having no siblings herself) that I just can’t help but love them as a duo. And because the brain rot is still very much present they are in my mind every now and then throughout the day.

2- Caitlyn Kiramman & Mel Medarda

They’re two bad bitches (and hot!), and so smart and strong (and hot!), both have gone through so much (and hot! wait…). I just think they’re neat and super bad ass and that they should be bffs.

3- Lena Luthor & Querl ‘Brainy’ Dox

These two are so special to me honestly, Brainy is so good for Lena. They’re both great friends for each other but I think that he’s just what Lena needed in a friend.

(Honorific mention of Beatrice and Camila from Warrior Nun cause they are so baby and such siblings as well)

A ship that might surprise others:

Okay so, I mostly don’t veer off from popular ships so this won’t be much but I’m rewatching The Handmaids Tale with my mom and I can’t help but feel like Serena Joy and June would make such a great enemies to lovers (if it weren’t for… well, yeah), I will not elaborate.

Last song:

Blood On White Satin by Skye Riley, Naomi Scott’s character in Smile 2. I don’t know what the songs in that movie have but I’m hooked, been listening to the EP a lot since I watched it.

Last film:

The wild robot. I cried so much, I’m a crier and it was a lot for my poor emotions. Loved it, tho.

Currently reading:

So, so many Supercorp fanfics. Like so many. Also procrastinating very much against my will on continuing to read Percy Jackson book 4 (battle of the labyrinth). Same for Lessons in chemistry.

Currently watching:

I just finished watching Arcane and everything hurts. I’m also rewatching Supergirl, Schitt’s Creek and Handmaid’s Tale. I’m about to start watching Teacup cause Yvonne Strahovski and Alice Kremelberg.

Currently consuming:

The tears of my readers (ie: me) as I’m wont to do

Currently craving:

Lil’ bit of choccy tbh

Also to fucking finish the wips I gotta finish so I can write new fics

Oh and an entire baggy of Jack Link’s original beef jerky.

#tag game #that was fun

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indestructibleheart · 1 year ago

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petalwrites is now IndestructibleHeart

Hi, friends!

As some of you know, I've been through a lot of changes this year... and one of those changes involved a lot of thinky-thoughts about gender and coming to the realization that I'm demi-femme (or genderqueer; I use both terms). I started using she/they pronouns, which I'm really comfy with, but I've been thinking a lot lately about wanting a more gender-neutral name that represents all of me... and this is the safest place for me to explore that.

petal → stevie

As Charlie Spring would tell me, I don't owe anyone an explanation re: my gender or why I'm changing my name, but I actually want to open up a bit. I'm just going to do it under the cut below.

However, the tldr is this: I'm not a girl, but I'm not NOT a girl (hope that helps!!). I'm gonna start going by Stevie in online spaces because it better fits the person I'm becoming. I've changed my URL here, my ao3 username, and my nicknames on Discord. I love each and every one of you for cultivating a space where I can explore what being demi-femme means to me, since I'm not quite in a place to change my inherently feminine government name IRL.

cw for talk about both gender and losing my dad (spoiler alert — I didn't choose Stevie for Stevie Budd, as precious as she is to me):

The name "Petal" being pretty feminine is something that's been on my mind for a while now, and I thought pretty hard about what name felt most like me. When the name Stevie popped into my head, it was because of Schitt's Creek... but something else clicked right after.

It was my dad's name.

(Well, his name was Steve, anyway.)

And, while we had our differences over the years, he was the first person in my family to wholeheartedly support me when I came out. I told him I was a lesbian and he was literally like, "Cool. You want pizza for dinner, or...?" Yeah. Didn't bat an eye. Especially given that he passed in June, of all months, it feels like a fitting tribute to take his name with me on this journey.

For me, the gender spectrum is complicated. It's a place I'm still learning to navigate... and that's why I'm choosing a name that feels like it suits me wherever I happen to be on the slider at any given time. Having a place where I can make these kinds of changes and do some self-exploration is just... like... I don't have the words to articulate how much that means to me.

This community has been nothing but wonderful every step of the way here. Hell, this community half the reason I felt safe and comfortable enough to start doing all this self-reflection in the first place. So, thank you for that.

I know referring to me by a different name is gonna take some adjustment, but that's okay!

Just like I am both she and they, Petal is a part of me, too... It's just not all of me. I want to introduce myself with a name that fits like a comfy sweater, rather than a dress that I only wear on certain days. Y'know?

(And, really, this is more about me needing a space to safely explore some gender neutrality when I can't IRL than it is my being uncomfortable with the name Petal. So, don't stress about it.)

I hope that makes sense outside of my head... but I guess it's also okay if it doesn't.

#stevietalks #cw parent death #cw gender

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battyaboutbooksreviews · 5 months ago

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please support this blog

🦇 The View From the Top Book Review 🦇

❓ #QOTD What's the last risk you took OR have you ever gone hiking? ❓ 🦇 Emily Janssen prefers playing it safe, still working at the inn her grandmothers own while dreaming of a day she can fully support herself with her art. Ambitious Diana Devlin is ready to take over as CEO of her family’s hotel chain when her father retires. Everything is going to plan until an unexpected run-in with an alluring artist on a mountainside throws Diana off course, resulting in one of the hottest nights either she or Emily have ever experienced. When Diana's plan goes off the rails, leading her to start her own company and buy Emily's grandmother's beloved inn, neither can forget their memorable—and steamy—night together, even when they're forced to play it professional. Will the view from the top be worth the climb, or will they both have farther to fall?

💜 Rachel Lacey always develops such well-balanced sapphic ships and realistic female protagonists. Emily and Diana are no exception. While Emily has fallen into a comfort zone (unknowingly allowing fears to take lead), Diana pushes past fear, allowing her goal-oriented mindset to take lead. While Emily has built a found family for herself, despite the lack of blood relatives, Diana is surrounded by blood yet still feels alone. Lacey also excels at creating queer found families in her novels. The Adventurers group is sweet, supportive, and gives Lacey the opportunity to expand this single story into a series for each member of their queer rainbow. Diana's relationship with her nephew is heartwarming and precious (hopefully he gets his own story in the future). I especially adored the contrast between Diana's ambitious mindset and anxiety, proving that we never really know how much a person is struggling (especially when they're so good at hiding it). The fall festival chapters make this a comforting read for autumn--I could have lived in those chapters (with a mug full of cider) forever.

💙 Crescent Falls, Vermont seems like the perfect setting for a small-town romance, and it IS. Unfortunately, we don't get to fall into the setting through descriptive language as much as I'd hoped. Even when Emily is painting the rich scenery around her or Diana is immersing herself in this new, charming town, the prose fails to draw us in so we're walking alongside them. That lackluster word choice fails to create the emotional entanglements and tension Rachel Lacey excels at in Stars Collide. Given that the author was sick with COVID and took a break while writing this, it's understandable. That emotion-based writing usually builds and builds until the FMCs can't contain themselves; until NOT touching is torturous. Unfortunately, there's a long stretch where the two FMCs are apart, which causes the story to stall. There's some longing, yes, but it doesn't grow to the point of impatience. I'm also a little disappointed that the characters didn't see the solution to their long-distance relationship sooner, though I do agree it presents a perfect ending. Also, the epilogue gave me total Schitt's Creek vibes, which I LOVED for them!

🦇 Recommended for fans of Alexandria Bellefleur and Ashley Herring Blake.

✨ The Vibes ✨ 🍁 Forced Proximity Small-Town Romance ⛰ Queer Community 🪴 Found Family 🩷 Sapphic Romance 🎨 Mental Health Rep ⛰ Lesbian & Bisexual FMCs 🍁 Third Act Breakup?

🦇 Major thanks to the author @rachelslacey and publisher for providing an ARC of this book. 🥰 This does not affect my opinion regarding the book. #TheViewFromtheTop

💬 Quotes ❝ Somehow she managed to look as sweet as the flowers she painted while simultaneously being one of the sexiest women Diana had ever seen. ❞ ❝ I’m damn good at wish fulfillment. ❞ ❝ “Feel the fear and do it anyway.” ❞ ❝ She was trying so damn hard to keep her attraction under wraps, and if she got tipsy and stumbled around a darkened pumpkin patch with Emily… well, she’d probably either end up kissing her or having a panic attack. ❞ ❝ "I see you weren’t only admiring my flannel for sapphic reasons." ❞ ❝ "Take a risk. Aim big. Fuck fear. What do you say?” ❞ ❝ Maybe she’d stood in one place for so long, she’d become rooted to the ground. She was terrified of what might happen if she set herself free. ❞ ❝ "Yesterday, I wanted someone to pick me for once. I wanted you to pick me." ❞ ❝ "You’re the first person to show me that I can let my guard down, I can be vulnerable, and you won’t take advantage. You let me be myself and appreciate me for exactly who I am— flaws and all— and I… I didn’t know how much I needed that until I found it.” ❞

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farm-witches-fic-recs · 1 year ago

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Friends! Countrypeople! Townies! The farm witch community has gathered together again to bring a selection of favorites old and new for your reading pleasure.

Check out these fics, leave the authors some love, and enjoy your days in the ways that make you happiest.

==========

London, Love, and All it Entails (londonspirit) “Patrick and David’s long term, long distance love affair. Someone mentioned GOGO (Getting Over Getting Older) and this one came to mind: two people are destined to be together but they first have lots to do before they are both ready. I find it both comforting and inspiring.”

Noble Beloved (AWorldOfDreams/@a-noble-dragon) “I love this story so much! The entire Dracotine series to be honest. It’s such a unique spin on our favorite boys and their romance. The longing is palpable. The sexy times are hot as hell. And, yes, Patrick is a dragon—a perfect, snippy, numbers guy of a dragon. 💙🐉🖤”

My misspent youth and my slow decline (@stereopticons) “Only 800 words but it hurts so good. Patrick, David, Stevie, and Alexis each get a devastating moment that ends on such a high. Loved this.”

People like that are the only people here (@likerealpeopledo-on-ao3) “Warm yet complex Brewer family vibes, a gigantic treehouse, and Patrick coming to terms with his past at Thanksgiving. Plus the Roses! Doing Rose things! It’s a fic that helped me see how Patrick developed the flawed communication style he’s perfected and how sublime David is as a supportive partner (housewarming not included).”

Shot glass of tears (@blackandwhiteandrose) “There's just so much good stuff packed in a short fic. David in NYC is a whole mood but the way he feels things and even changes over this little bit of time is crazy. it's sad but it's not. I love that it ends knowing right where they'll pick up in Schitt's Creek.”

Too fast (@grapehyasynth) “I come back to this one all the time. David worrying about this date being wrong for him (mini-golf! who would think David would mesh well with mini-golf!) but realizing how much Patrick is trying, how hot he thinks Patrick is, and relaxing into it and letting himself be charmed while still agonizing over making sure he isn't messing things up with Patrick is so lovely.”

The touch of your hand makes my pulse react (pandorasdaydream) “This new RPF manages to create a vivid world where Dan and Noah are together and it's a world with both love and tenderness but also melancholy and jealousy. Highly recommend if you were one of those fans who did a side eye at Dan showing up drunk and enamored at Noah's London show.”

True Blue series (ayes)" An inventive, sweet & hot early-relationship AU in which David’s escape with Roland’s truck after the events of S1 ends with an encounter with friendly and generous goat farmer Clint Brewer (and his family) instead of the cranky Mennonites…. So David meets Patrick even before he’s worked at the Blouse Barn. The story includes hilarious appearances by the Roses and Stevie, is told from David’s (very anxious) PoV, and is as insightful & funny & satisfying as we all deserve. The series comes in two parts; both are worth devouring!"

Wild and Wooded (@lisamc-21) “This is everything I want in a non angsty AU fic. They meet, tease and banter, find a way to meet again, click boom, and a happy ending. Patrick is so earnest and wears his heart on his sleeve, not to mention those heart eyes. David knows that Patrick has something that he has never encountered before. He wants it, but history has him doubting. Great dialog, great intimate scenes, lovely story.”

#friends of farm witches fic recs #sc fanfic #sc fic rec #schitt's creek fanfic #schitts creek fic #schitt's creek fic #sc fic #david rose #patrick brewer #david x patrick #alexis rose #stevie budd

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interito · 1 month ago

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wasn't that bridget baxter walking the cobbled roads of coňstanja? it's nice to see the actress out and about on such a fine day as this. i've heard from the court spies that they are notoriously conceited, whilst also managing to be quite charming. the twenty-six year old is eager to explore bran keep. i heard that they themselves aren't divine. it's funny, whenever i think of them, i think of reinventing yourself, again and again, until you have destroyed any trace of what you once were / a fake diamond necklace masquerading as something real / the sound of applause echoing through a packed theatre – pretending that the adoration of strangers can fill the void inside of you.

# 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒

FULL NAME bridget elizabeth baxter NICKNAME(S) bee, biddy AGE twenty-six DATE OF BIRTH may 29th GENDER / PRONOUNS cis woman, she/her SEXUAL ORIENTATION bisexual PLACE OF BIRTH brailya PLACE OF RESIDENCE coňstanja SPECIES human, non-divine STATUS single, never married OCCUPATION theatre actress

# 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

POSITIVE TRAITS charming, talented, confident, adaptable NEGATIVE TRAITS conceited, selfish, obsequious, ignorant MBTI esfp-t (the entertainer) ENNEAGRAM type four (the individualist) MORAL ALIGNMENT true neutral DEADLY SIN pride HEAVENLY VIRTUE patience ZODIAC gemini PARALLELS jenna maroney, 30 rock / ty lee, avatar: the last airbender / alexis rose, schitt's creek / karen smith: mean girls / serena van der woodsen, gossip girl / daisy buchanan, the great gatsby / lydia bennet, pride and prejudice

# 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘

You, my dear, were born to be a star. Unfortunately, the gods above deemed it necessary that you work for your destiny. How very gauche.

No, you are not born into riches nor fame. You do not have greatness thrust upon you, there is no silver spoon in your mouth nor world at your feet. Instead of being born into royalty in the capital, you are born into destitution in Brailya. Your parents claim to have once been wealthy. Or, at the very least, wealthier. Alas, hardships had come thick and fast, and any memory of a comfortable life is quickly forgotten. Your mother finds solace in a bottle, and your father in a deck of cards. Whatever money they manage to accrue is quickly wasted away on their respective hobbies – and any notion of parenting is as foreign to them as royalty.

You are the seventh – and final – child born to your parents. For how much you see of them growing up, your parents might as well have been strangers. No, the bulk of your childhood is spent in the care of your older siblings. You think they feel sorry for you – you are a sickly little thing, illnesses seem to stick to you like glue. There are long stretches of your early life that are spent confined to your bedroom – and you fear you would have gone completely mad from boredom if your siblings did not take pity upon you.

Something as simple as a picture book is a commodity in your town – but they manage to pinch a few from travelling merchants and deposit them at your bedside. It is with stolen fairytales that you teach yourself both to read and to dream. The world around you is miserable – empty stomachs and tattered clothes. Begging for scraps and stealing pocket change. You escape into stories – indulging in fantasies about princesses and magic and unconditional love. You dream of escaping your wretched life, of waking up one day as royalty in the capital. Of finding riches and fame and love in a far away place – but these dreams are just make-believe, and simply wishing is not enough to save you from reality.

When you are nine years old, your older brother takes you to see a travelling theatre group as a brief reprieve from your home. He thinks it silly – a bunch of adults dressing up and playing make-believe, just as you do in your stories – but you are instantly enthralled. You watch in awe as they seize the stage, capturing the audience's attention, their applause, their adoration. They are beloved, even if they are not known. And, most importantly, when all is said and done, they depart your miserable little town and go on to the next thing. To you, it seems that the actors and actresses in that troupe have it all figured out – they get to go where they please, be whoever they want to be, and live a life you could only ever imagine. As cliche as it may sound, you realise at this moment that you are destined for the stage.

Of course, actually achieving these goals will inevitably prove difficult. Your family is less than thrilled by your new aspirations – though your health improves as you grow, you continue to shirk duties at home to recite poetry and practice singing. You start viewing your siblings as unsophisticated for having dreams that are less ambitious than your own. Your parents, for their part, mock your goals at every turn. And all this without even mentioning your rather undesirable peers. See, it proves far more arduous than anticipated to form a theatre troupe in a place such as Brailya. Where most of your peers are simply focused on surviving the week, it is difficult to find any who would dare to dream of something beyond squalor and despair. You live in a sinkhole – a world marred by misery, determined to bring you down along with everybody else.

You first meet JAYESH ADANI in a local tavern. You have taken to waitressing whilst you await your big break – and though Jayesh is a nobody when you first meet him, he introduces himself as a playwright and your interests are immediately piqued. Together, you make an odd pairing – just a couple of creatives with dreams bigger than the place they were born in. He casts you as the leading lady in his first production, grants you your first real audience. And... it is even better than you could have imagined. The applause rings in your ears, and you swear it feels like love. They are strangers, yes, and they have only seen a version of you that does not really exist – but, oh, how they adored you. You have had your first taste of greatness, and you decide you will never give it up.

You follow Jayesh throughout his career – as his plays grow in popularity, so too, do you. You are a princess, a villain, a humble sorcerer – the characters from your fairytales come to life. Each night, you don a costume and get to be whoever you like. Each night, you get to watch the faces of the crowd, loving every version of you. Each night, you can hear their applause, relish in their accolades. It is great, yes, but you quickly begin to hunger for more. It is not enough to play the role of a starlet in some destitute town – you want to be one. So, when the opportunity arises for Jayesh to put his plays on in Coňstanja, you are quick to follow. This is what you have dreamed about since you were a child – a ticket out of Brailya. A ticket away from your family, away from begging for scraps and settling for seconds. A ticket away from struggle and hardship – a ticket to the place that promises glitz and glamour and glory.

In Coňstanja, everything will be different. So, you bid your hometown farewell and promise never to look back.

You shed the skin of the girl you once were as soon as you set foot in the capital city. No longer are you the sickly, poor, wretched thing that barely clung to survival in Brailya. You quickly rebrand yourself – Bridget Baxter, enigmatic starlet. To some, you are a cousin of the king, to others, a noblewoman from a far-away land. Nobody can ever agree on exactly where you came from, and it only serves to add to your allure. You captivate your new audience, selling them make-believe stories both on and off the stage. You work hard to win them over – to carve your name into the very flesh of the capital city. You will not return to the life of hardship and discontent you once knew.

You are a star now, and you will not let anybody forget it.

#intro. bridget

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anna-pineappel · 10 months ago

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Intro Post ✨

Hi and welcome to the chaos that is my tumblr. I decided to make a pinned intro post, for the same reasons I do most things, just because.

I’m Anna (she/they), I’m 30 and I write fanfic or as some call it, ✨Quality Literature✨ Due to some adult themes in my writing, some things on my blog are only suitable for those 18+.

My Fanfic Masterlist

Ask me about my Fics/the Director's Cut!

A few things to know about me:

I'm queer and married. I don't share a lot about my partner or my private life because I value their privacy but they exist. We own 2 kitties, a calico and a siamese.

I have ADHD - predominately inattentive type. I was diagnosed recently but it was something I always suspected of myself.

I write, both fanfiction and OC. My hyperfixation usually decides what I'm writing, and I haven't touched my OC content in literal years. Hoping to change that one day 😅

I also rotate through fandoms, see I have ADHD lol. I always consider myself a part of a fandom even if I'm not actively following/engaging with/creating content. Currently, Hogan's Heroes has a chokehold on me and I'm shipping Hogan/Klink (Klogan). Crackship Hochstetter/Hogan, for which I coined the name StettiHo, also has a chokehold on me (heh) and is featured heavily on my side blog: Stetti-Ho

I also follow Kim Possible, Once Upon a Time, M*A*S*H, Stranger Things, Schitt’s Creek, Kevin Can Fuck Himself, just to name a few.

My writing is smut-heavy, you have been warned. It is pretty queer too (m/m). Feel free to check out my Ao3 😊 (again, 18+ due to the mentioned smut).

I post/reblog mostly about having ADHD and writing, with the occasional rb of fandom content.

#personal #pinned intro

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likerealpeopledo-on-ao3 · 10 months ago

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20 Qs for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag @blackandwhiteandrose!

How many works do you have on ao3?

I have 51 works on Ao3.

What's your total ao3 word count?

728,254

What fandoms do you write for?

I’ve written for The Mindy Project, Gilmore Girls, Schitt’s Creek, and now Fellow Travelers

Top 5 fics by kudos

The More You Know

I swallow the sound (and it swallows me whole)

People like that are the only people here

Such Great Heights

Some Days are Diamonds

Do you respond to comments?

Yes, both literally and figuratively. I try to write a response to everyone but I’ve noticed a pattern recently where I drop off at the end of posting because I have a hard time feeling finished and if I leave some comments unanswered, I never have to say goodbye to a story. Figuratively, comments water my crops and keep me nourished. Without them, my writing brain withers.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably a Mindy Project joint I wrote with @alittlenutjob where Mindy and Danny don’t end up together but Mindy and Peter do.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Probably I swallow the sound, which some people call the stroke fic. No spoilers, but the ending is one of my faves, mostly because I was able to write a joke in it that someone I deeply admire told me was Dan Levy show quality.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not so far, and let’s please not take that as an invitation lol.

Do you write smut?

Yes.

Craziest crossover

I can’t say I’ve committed to a crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not unless podfic counts as a translation.

Have you ever cowritten a fic?

Yes, multiple times with multiple peeps. I love that process and I think I’m a decent collaborator because people offer to do it again 😂.

All time favourite ship?

David and Patrick will forever float my boat.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Aw, poor Mafia!Pat and accidental marriage in Vegas.

What are your writing strengths?

Emotional arcs, insight into behaviors, wit, warmth, and copious amounts of research to get details right.

What are your writing weaknesses?

My own self-doubt and quickly running out of words to describe kissing and touching. I would love to write smut in an uninhibited manner, but repression!

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

If it serves a purpose. I’ve never needed to use it, but I would.

First fandom you’ve written in?

The Mindy Project was the first I ever posted but I wrote fanfic as a kid, not knowing it was fanfic. Nor fandom lol. We shan’t speak of it.

Favourite fic you’ve written?

I would love to say they’re all my children and I can’t choose between them, but ackkkk, I don’t know. I’m happy to have produced all of them and there are none I’d take back or orphan. Some were easier to write than others. Fine! They’re all my children! Don’t make me Sophie’s Choice it!

Tagging @beyondxmeasure @jesterlesbian @sullymygoodname @ramonaflow @dinnfameron @alittlenutjob and anyone else who wants to do it!

#schitt's creek #david x patrick #fellow travelers #fic about me

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stereopticons · 1 year ago

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Fic Writing Review 2023

Thanks for the tag @hippolotamus!

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

Words and Fics

53,271 words published to ao3

an estimated 31,700 unpublished words in WIPs written this year

2 published fandoms (Schitt's Creek and RWRB) and one unpublished (911)

Most recent drop: currently two advent drabble collections: ribbons and bows (SC) and my only wish is one more year (and then i want them all) (RWRB)

Longest (published) fic: we were loud like love (david/patrick, E, 5.1k) (it was a rough year)

Caveat to that is that indie band patrick is currently ~26k and unpublished, all of that was written this year

Top Fics by Kudos

never knew a home until i found your hands (alex/henry, E, 1k)

paint me up (you're my favorite color) (david/patrick, E, 2.5k)

in the long tresses of your hair (i am a babbling brook) (david/patrick, T, 1.3k)

let my love fix you up (david/patrick, T, 1.7k)

tangle and stretch (david/patrick, T, 3.3k)

My fandom fic events in 2023

Raisins in Zhampagne New Years Exchange: the world would make sense again (if i held your hand) (twylexis, T, 2.7k)

Schitt's Creek Rare Fest: your secret's safe with me (stevie/ruth, M, 3.1k)

World BDSM Day Writing Challenge (yes, I'm counting events I made up): catch my breath to breathe your name (david/patrick, E, 300)

Schitt's Creek Passions and Pastimes Fest: crossed words and open hearts (david/patrick, E, 2.6k) and parallax (collab with @indestructibleheart, david/patrick, T, 5k)

Smutsgiving part one and part two

+1-2 fics for Schitt's Creek Frozen Over

Upcoming Events and Projects for 2024

to finish and publish:

certain songs (aka, indie band patrick): David, owner of the recently re-opened Perennial gallery in New York gets dragged by Stevie to a show where the indie band the Creek Waders are performing. He crosses paths with the frontman and guitarist, Patrick, and finds himself intrigued. Mutual pining, David being an idiot, discussions about queer art, Stevie ex machina, etc etc.

gather up the avenues: David and Patrick dated while in New York but broke up, now neither of them can stand to be in the city because of all the memories. Patrick drives back home to Canada, but ends up stopping in a small town with a ridiculous sign, while David flees to the place with the stupid name his dad bought him for his birthday when he was a kid. I think you can see where this is going.

come on, get higher, loosen my lips: five times alex and henry talk on the phone and one time they wake up together (workshopping this description lol). Actually hoping to finish and publish this in 2023 but we'll see how it goes.

I have a lot of other projects I'd like to finish but I'm not going to list them all here. We'll see how this year goes. I also love an event (clearly) so plan to participate in some of those as they come up (hopefully for both SC and RWRB).

Tagging @indestructibleheart @blackandwhiteandrose @kiwiana-writes @rosedavid @mostlyinthemorning @apothecarose @lizzie-bennetdarcy @smblmn @myheartalivewrites @missgeevious

#fic review 2023

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kiwiana-writes · 1 year ago

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3, 7, & 8 for the happy fic writer asks!

3. Have you received any bookmark notes? Which is your favorite and why?

Absolutely! Just a few of my many faves include: the person who bookmarked fae prince Henry with the note "Alex is a peasant boy and Henry is a faerie who is very much into consent" which is both completely true and just such a hilarious summary of that fic. So, so many incredible bookmark notes on the actor AU that made me weep, and one hilarious one that said something about printing it on papyrus and handing it down to their children—I hope desperately that that person discovers ficbinding. The Schitt's Creek pole dancing/pole instructor AU has one that's like "the concept that shouldn't work as well as it does". So, so many more, probably, but those are the ones that stick out.

7. What do you love most about being a fic writer for your fandom?

I started rambling about the fic community as a whole and then I realised this question specifies "being a fic WRITER" so I'm pulling it back lol. So: I love how much depth and richness there is to the RWRB characters which gives me so much to explore as a writer. I used to be someone who really struggled writing full AUs, but I find that I have a really good sense of what makes these characters who they are and so whether I'm writing them in college, as actors, as fae princes and peasants... whatever it is, I'm still writing THEM. And that's a really lovely feeling as a writer.

8. Talk about any friends/connections you've made as a fic writer.

God where the fuck do I START. This is gonna be like an Oscars speech where I inevitably forget some really important fucking people lmao. @ships-to-sail my dream team collaborator and someone I will fight DoorDash at 3am to send soup to their house when they're sick lol. @celeritas2997 was the first person to reach out privately when I started writing RWRB—I'd only interacted with her in the comment section of my fics before that and now she's a very dear friend. @clottedcreamfudge is someone I just clicked with immediately and now talking to her bookends most days (timezones are a scam lol). I went to Disneyland and Noah Reid with @nontoxic-writes @lilythesilly @reginahalliwell a few months ago and it was AMAZING. @minerforaheartofgold we discovered very early in our shared Schitt's Creek space that Aotearoa is SMALL and there was one hell of a venn diagram overlap between our friends, and now they're someone I'll always go out of my way to see when we're in the same part of NZ (and go to Harry Styles with).

But also like... all y'all? Anyone I've ever had a back and forth with in the comments section, flailed in the reblog tags with, DMed... fandom is community, I'll bang this drum until the drum breaks, and every single one of you makes my little corner of this community better.

[The Happy Fic Writer Ask Game]

#happy fic writer ask game #stereopticons

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orionsangel86 · 2 years ago

Note

What if Good Omens has a "sad" ending?

I am pretty sure Neil Gaiman has said specifically that it doesn't?

I mean I doubt it will. What do you consider a "sad" ending anyway? Because people have different views on that.

I think the ending is pretty much what we know - that they will end up living together in a cottage in the South Downs. Thats the ending Neil revealled years ago before he ever assumed there would be a TV show, let alone one that would give him the chance to adapt the unwritten sequel, otherwise I doubt he would have told fans about the South Downs all those years ago. But he did and now he kinda has to follow through I think.

I think it would be a little bit sad in a bittersweet way if for example, due to a series of events Crowley and Aziraphale both were given the choice to be human (look its a theme I've loved since SPN and I'm still reeling from the Barbie movie and all the Sandman endgame spec so its on my mind). A human ending for them would be interesting, but in a sense it would also be sad because it would mean they would both one day die (omg now im thinking about the song Follow You Into The Dark and getting emotional) but it would be a happy ending as well as a sad one.

The other happier alternative is that they manage to fix heaven and hell and get to officially retire to live out the rest of their long existence on Earth together still as immortal beings with certain miraculous powers but with no affiliation to either heaven or hell until the heat death of the universe.

You know suddenly I'm struck by that harrowing Neil Gaiman line from The Sandman. I'm paraphrasing but its basically:

"It's only a happy ending because you know when to stop. Otherwise all stories end in death."

But anyway, the second option seems to fit AziraCrow more because I don't think either of them has expressed a desire to be human. They enjoy human things, but also very much enjoy the comforts of immortality and the fact they can perform convenient miracles.

Also, just due to the genre of the show, the ending is likely to be happy. Comedies are supposed to have happy endings. Ending them on a downer defeats the point of them being comedies. Good Omens is a Fantasy Comedy show. Its not a drama. Its not gonna pull a Supernatural on us. Now comedies can certainly have bittersweet or deeply emotional endings - just look at the finale of The Good Place - which to this day I fully believe is the best ending to a show I have ever seen. The Schitt's Creek ending is equally bittersweet. Both these shows understood the assignment in that they were able to create the right amount of catharsis and emotion in the audience that left us feeling both happy, sad, and satisifed.

Few shows pull that off, but I have faith that Good Omens will be one of them.

#good omens #good omens speculation #neil gaiman #happy endings #its only a happy ending if you know where to stop #asks

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flieslikeamoron · 1 year ago

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WIP Wednesday

I've posted a couple snippets of this before, but I finally feel like I'm getting somewhere with it. So this is the first two chapters of my Steddie Schitt's Creek AU. I'll start posting it on AO3 once I'm far enough into it, but if you want a preview...

This is about 5K words. Rated T so far for kissing and slightly impure thoughts.

Steve Harrington is in hell. Granted, he's not wanted for tax crimes, insider trading, money laundering and whatever else his parents were getting up to. So it's not like he needs to flee arrest like they did. But is he really better off?

They put away a nice little offshore nest egg, fled the country for the Maldives as soon as they realized the heat was about to come down, and never said a word to him about what was coming. No heads up. No maybe you should come on vacation with us. No here’s an account we set up for you in the Caymans. Nothing.

And that's what Steve has left to his name. Nothing. Just a handful of clothes. And a ludicrously small amount cash. It's the kind of money he used to drop on lunch, or drinks at the club. Nothing. The cars are gone, and the New York apartment, and the house in the Hollywood Hills, and the beach house, and the other beach house, and the European beach house, the jet, so much of his wardrobe it makes him want to cry... The only thing left, the only thing that wasn't in his fugitive parents' name, the only thing he actually owns is a Family Video store in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

Of all the pointless things. Why couldn't his parents have given him a sweet little boat or a cute little ski cabin or something the day he was born? Why did it have to be a useless video store?

He knows why. At the time they'd only owned about fifteen or twenty video stores. The start of a regional chain that grew into a national monster that grew into a media conglomerate. At the time it had been a way to welcome their new son into the family business. A new store. A new kid. Both born on the same day. It was symbolism, not a real gift. He's never seen the store. He doubts they have either. He completely forgot he even owned it until the lawyers sat him down and laid out the complete devastation of his life.

He doesn’t know who’s been running it, but someone has because it’s still open. Somehow. The Family Video part of his parents’ empire went under years ago, thousands of stores shut down all over the country. Just this one lonely shop left shambling along like some kind of zombie. An obsolete relic of a bygone era. He might as well own a Model T factory.

But it’s all he’s got. So now. Instead of whatever resort his parents fucked off to, instead of a fun little yacht or a Swiss chalet, he’s heading for Hawkins, Indiana. On a bus. A Bus! Where he has been trapped for over twelve hours with the absolute dregs of humanity and the pervasive smell of literal shit wafting from the disgusting excuse for a toilet.

He emerges. finally, with four suitcases, the last precious remnants of everything he holds dear, into the absolute worst place in the world.

The bus station seems to be right on the edge of what the sign across the street proclaims “Historic Downtown Hawkins.” There’s a row of quaint brick store fronts. Faded awnings over old-fashioned window displays. There's a restaurant called Mabel's. There's a Laundr-o-matic. There's an honest to God "General Store" like something out of a black and white movie. Like Steve's time warped into the actual past. Do these people even have cell phones? Has he discovered a land cut off from modern society like some explorer uncovering a hidden tribe in the Amazon? That would explain why they still have a video store.

His head is pounding. Everything is so fucking quaint. Someone says hi to him, giving Steve a cheerful wave as he passes. A disturbingly casual friendliness that puts Steve on edge. He waves back anyway, pasting on a big, fake smile. This is a nightmare, but he’s been in bad spots before. He just needs to sell the store and get the hell out of here.

But first things first, he needs a place to stay.

He pulls out his phone. Does this place even have Uber?

The car pulls up surprisingly quickly. A big boat of an Oldsmobile that’s seen better days. Not exactly Uber Black, but beggars can’t be choosers. Steve wheels his bags to the trunk. The driver doesn't seem like he's going to help, which is not going to do his star rating any favors. There's no porter so Steve pops the trunk himself. Only about two of the bags will fit. He puts the other two in the backseat, and climbs into the passengers seat.

The driver is a shaggy haired guy about Steve’s age. He just sit there. Staring at Steve, wide-eyed. "Hawkins Motel?" Steve says, annoyed. It's all in the app, isn't it? The guy opens his mouth, and closes it again. Is there something wrong with him? Does he not speak English? His haircut looks like he did it himself without a mirror. Steve mentally docks another star. "Anytime today," Steve snaps. He could maybe stand to be a bit more polite, but he smells of bus, and this has been the worst day of the worst week of his entire life.

The guy shrugs, still looking a bit surprised that driving an Uber means having another person in your car. "The motel you said?"

So he does speak English.

"That's right."

At least it’s a short drive. The motel’s toward the outskirts of the town, not that it seems like they get a lot of tourist traffic around here. As his driver pulls up to the check in office, Steve hesitates. The place looks- It’s a long row of dilapidated rooms with blue painted doors. Haphazardly tilted air conditioning units in the windows. A couple windows with cardboard taped in where the glass should be. An overflowing dumpster. It looks like it has been, or will be, the scene of a murder.

“Are you okay?”

“Be honest. Do you know of any murders that have happened here?”

The guy thinks about it for a second, rather than just rattling off a no. Which Steve appreciates. “Not that I know of,” he says. “But there’s a B&B back in town if this isn’t your speed.” He gives Steve a small smile. “Byers’ House. Really nice place.”

Steve can’t afford really nice. He mentally adds a star back to the guy’s rating for his honesty. “No, it’s- It’ll be fine. Could you just wait one second while I check in though? I need to get to Family Video after I drop off the bags.”

“I’m kind of in the middle of-”

“Five minutes, I swear. And you’re going back that way anyway, right? I’ll pay cash.”

The guy gives him a long look. “You can’t just-” the guy says, losing steam halfway through. Steve smiles as the guy caves with a muttered, “Fine.” It’s the Harrington charm. Works every time.

Family Video is on the other end of “Historic Downtown Hawkins” from the bus station. It seems to be getting into a less historic area, surrounded by a strip mall on one side. The video store has that classic brick look though. A mural on the side of the building with a mashup of movie characters from Elle Woods to Darth Vader. It could easily be removed, wouldn’t affect the sale price. There are large windows on either side of the door, the classic coming attractions posters surrounded by lights. But as Steve climbs the stairs he notices the posters are made by hand. Some of them look like well done art by someone who knows what they’re doing, some of them look like the scribblings of a five year old.

How quaint.

He grimaces, pushing the door open. Cringing at the cheerful tinkle of a bell. "Welcome to Family Video." The girl at the counter looks up from her magazine, bored. "Can I help you find something?"

"The manager?" Steve says.

"That's me." She straightens up. "Is there a problem?"

"I'm Steve." Steve tries out a smile as he makes his way over to the counter. He has a great one. But she seems unmoved, not smiling back. "Harrington." He points in the vague direction of the Family Video logo on the wall. "As in, the family in Family Video."

She cocks her head. "I think my family is the family in this Family Video. We've only been running the place for 28 years." She adds, "Buckley." She points to the nametag on her suspenders that says Robin. She's wearing suspenders. Somehow they kind of work for her.

"I'm sure my family appreciates all your family has done to keep the store up and running."

"Last one in the country."

Steve gives smiling one more go. She looks at him stone faced. So much for the famous Harrington charm. Steve supposes what he's about to say isn't going to give her a lot to smile about. "I guess this is awkward," Steve says. "But the fact is I own this building, and the franchise license."

"The hell you do." She crosses her arms over her chest, lifting her chin.

"I do though," Steve says. "I don't know what deal my parents worked out with your parents. Obviously, we've been- I've been- Hands off. So that's thirty years of profits you haven't had to share and rent you haven't had to pay. I won't be seeking to recoup that, by the way."

She snorts. "Go ahead and try. There aren't any profits to share. We barely keep the lights on."

"Maybe this is an opportunity then," he says. "To turn this-" He makes a motion, encompassing the worn counter she's standing behind, the overflowing shelves of Blu-rays and DVDs, the scuffed floors. The general aura of decline in this shrine to an outdated form of media. "Into something profitable."

"What exactly are you talking about?"

"Well, the building has value. If the business doesn’t."

"The business has value," she argues. "It's just not in profits."

Steve cocks his head. "I don't follow."

"It has value to the town. We host movie nights in the town square all summer. We have groups that meet here to talk about film or books or writing." She motions at a couple squashy chairs in the corner with another mural on the wall. It’s the Gremlins doing a dance from Singing in the Rain. "We have an annual film festival. It’s happening next month. There are-"

"That's great," Steve interrupts. "But I need actual money. Not feel good small town vibes." He has to get out of this hellhole. And if that means selling this building out from under this stranger he doesn't give a shit about, he'll do it. That's business. That's how the world works.

“And I need you to go be delusional somewhere else.” She frowns at him. “You don’t own this place.”

“Really?” he says. “Because I have a copy of the deed in my bag back at the hotel and another on file with my lawyer. How about you?”

“I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.” She manages to sound confident despite the fact that Steve knows for a fact she doesn’t have the goods.

“I’m happy to come back tomorrow with my extremely legal paperwork that will hold up in any court of law,” he says. “And you bring… Whatever you can dig up to help your case. If that doesn’t settle it, you can spend the profits you don’t have on a lawyer.”

“Great,” she says, voice flat. “Is there anything else I can help you with.” The amount of rage coming off her would be intimidating if he wasn’t completely sure he owns this place. And if she wasn’t wearing suspenders.

Steve heads to the diner down the street from the video store for dinner. He feels sort of shitty. Maybe he should have made his lawyer do this part, but he can’t really afford the retainer. So fuck it, fine. He’ll be the bad guy. It's not like it's his fault Robin’s parents put all their eggs in the basket of a store they didn't even own. What is Steve supposed to do about it? He needs the money. He owns the place. It's not on him to preserve some weird non-profit video store, just so kids can hang out there and talk about movies or whatever she was going on about.

"Anything I can get you?" a pretty blond asks. Steve grabs the menu, gives it a scan. The last few weeks have been one indignity after another. Steve didn’t really think he had any farther to sink, anything left to lose. But looking at that menu a lead weight sinks to the bottom of his gut, his throat suddenly going tight. He wants his salad with truffle vinagrette, he wants wagyu beef not meatloaf, he wants hiramasa not tilapia. He doesn’t want chicken fried anything ever.

"How about you bring me your favorite thing on the menu." He tries his smile out on the waitress just to make sure it's not broken. It’s probably not his best effort, considering how desperately he wants to cry about toro tartare. But she smiles back, charmed. He takes a second to notice how well she fills out her apron. Chrissy, her name tag says.

"Anything?" she says. "You don't have any food allergies, or-"

"Surprise me, Chrissy." She blushes at the sound of her name in his mouth.

“It’s so weird that you’re like… Here.” She shakes her head, wrinkling her nose. Very cute. “I’ve never met anyone famous before.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Steve teases. “I’m more handsome than the pictures.”

She laughs. “Are you here for a while?” He can’t tell if it’s a come on or just curiosity.

“I have some business to wrap up,” Steve says. “But I’ll be here for a week or two.” Not more than that, surely. How long can it take to sell a stupid building?

"I'm really sorry about what happened. With your family and everything." She leans in, like she thinks he might be embarrassed for anyone to overhear her talking about something that was all over the news, all over twitter, all over tiktok, all over everything. The charges being made public. The feds turning Steve’s New York apartment inside out. Steve getting escorted out into a sea of flashing cameras. Every microsecond of his misfortune documented.

"Thanks," he says, clipped. The last thing he needs is pity from some girl who probably peaked by captaining her high school cheerleading squad, some waitress who's probably never left her home town. Steve's fucking broke, but he's still better than this town. Better than these people. He doesn't need her pity.

She senses the shift in his mood, the smile no longer directed at her. And straightens up. "Anything to drink?"

Steve fishes his phone out of his handbag when she's gone. He knows he shouldn't, but he checks his Instagram. He has friends all over the world. Had friends all over the world. And now look, he can watch them having fun without him in real time. Watch them not thinking about him. Not missing him. It's all right there in the palm of his hand.

There’s Kassandra sun bathing in Ibiza. And there’s Oliver clubbing in Toyko. And there’s Stavros. His boyfriend of a record breaking three months. Kissing some guy on the private plane he was supposed to be using to fly Steve out of here. And there’s Stavros kissing that same guy on his yacht with a breathtaking Mediterranean sunset behind them. Steve zooms in on a carpaccio with a jealousy so intense he feels sick to his stomach. Fuck Stavros, honestly. But he would kill for that carpaccio.

"Here you go," Chrissy chirps. She puts down a plate. "It's not actually on the menu, but it's my favorite. It’s like avocado toast, but it’s hash browns instead of toast. The kitchen makes it for me special." She puts down a second smaller plate with a few huge onion rings. “Mabel’s famous for her onion rings. Or- It’s the sauce, really.” She adds a milkshake. “You can use the shake for dipping too.”

Steve looks at the food. It’s all so… Fried. He looks at her face, the tentative smile there. He feels a flush of something uncomfortable. Feels sort of small, air knocked out of him by the way she bounced off his coldness and came back with a little piece of herself and a smile. Something hooks into his chest, and tugs.

“Thank you.” It sounds- Pathetically sincere. “It looks delicious.” That’s a lie, but he’s fucking doing his best.

Her smile grows to a bright, wide thing. Her pretty face lit up. She tilts her head, taking a breath. "Listen. I know you probably have- It's probably not what you're used to," she says. "But if you want to meet some people, there's a party out by the lake tonight." She shrugs. "I know it's hard to be new in town." She smiles again. So cute. "At least you could get a couple beers out of it."

"Will you be there?"

She blushes and nods. Pretty. Tempting. A nice distraction. Maybe even something he could put on his Insta.

“I’ll see you there.”

The party is exactly what Chrissy said it would be. Big bonfire. A couple kegs. A bunch of locals getting drunk, getting loud, hooking up. Steve looks around for Chrissy, pushing his way through the crowd. He doesn’t see her, and being around these yokels is bad for his morale. He grabs a beer and does another pass through the crowd, looking for anyone who’d make a good picture. He doesn’t need to advertise that he’s at a shitty party, but making out with someone hot might give Stavros second thoughts about taking that generic twink to Mykonos when he could have had Steve.

Steve looks past the rowdy center of the party to a guy standing a bit away from the fire. Long hair. Leather jacket. Shit-kicker boots. Steve can see a tantalizing bit of ink on his hand as he lights a cigarette. A bit more ink peeking out of the worn neckline of his tshirt. He looks like the kind of guy that'll sell you drugs or steal your wallet.

Perfect.

The camera is already open on Steve’s phone as he steps in close to the guy. Steve takes a fist full of his shirt in hand to keep him from stepping back as Steve plants one on him. The phone clicks and Steve' glances over at, about to take one more.

The guy cups Steve's chin. Warm fingers insistent, turning Steve away from the phone. Turning the hurried, awkward mash of their lips together into something that catches. Steve opens up, unthinking, for the heat of his mouth. The hand tight on his waist urges him closer, into the brush of leather, the heat of a body up against his. There's a lazy confidence to the way the guy slips him a little tongue. Steve leans into it, into him.

And the guy pulls back.

It takes Steve a second to let go of the grip he has on the guy's shirt. To remember why he came over here. His phone. Right. He never did get that second pic. He licks his lower lip. His eyes still on the guy. On his mouth. When Steve looks up enough to catch the guy's eye, the cocky quirk of his eyebrow, he can feel his face going hot.

Jesus.

Why is this guy even getting to him? He flirted his way out a Saudi prince's compound. He made it through two countries without a passport. He got into KissKiss without a lock of human hair. He does not get flustered. Especially not by small town guys with hair like they've been in a bunker since the 80s, and rough fingers and that infuriatingly amused look on their face.

"Um," Steve says. The guy's smile gets wider. Fuck.

“I have to-” Steve makes a vague motion, and starts walking in any random direction that’s away from how hard his heart is pounding, from how obvious it must be that he wants. From how easy it was to get under his skin. He tries not to picture that taunting grin being directed at his back while the guy watches him basically make a run for it.

Steve hitches a ride back to the motel, dreading taking an actual look inside his room. The bags are where he carelessly tossed him. The floors are worn linoleum. The air conditioner rattles like a plane propeller. The tile in the bathroom is chipped and discolored. He lines up his bags neatly in the closet. No point in unpacking. He won’t be staying long.

There are cigarette burns on the blanket, but the sheets seem clean at least. He slides gingerly into bed and pulls out his phone. He looks at the picture he took. It’s not great. A bit blurry. There’s the awkward stretch of his arm holding the camera. But if he cropped it- He zooms in on the guy’s face, trying to get a better look than he did at the party. It’s really only half his face. Steve can’t see that glint in his eyes, that curve of the grin that sticks so sharply in Steve’s craw. The soft focus blurry moment of his mouth against Steve’s still sends a thick pulse of arousal through Steve’s gut. The memory of the guy’s fingers against his chin, the demanding heat of his mouth.

He deletes the photo from his phone without posting it. It wasn’t Instaworthy.

CHAPTER TWO

Steve wakes up feeling worse than he did the time he accidentally roofied himself. A shower helps a little. The water temperature could charitably be called lukewarm. But Steve stands too long in the tepid spray, drawing in deep breaths, filling his lungs with the smell of his shampoo. One of a kind, made just for him. Because he’s the kind of person people want selling their brand. Because he’s the kind of person who has what other people want. He’s the kind of person other people want to be like.

Or he was.

No, he still is. No one will touch him right now, but that’s temporary. The next scandal will come along. People will forget about the bullshit, and remember that he’s Steve Harrington.

He fortifies himself with a look in the mirror. He hasn’t changed. He’s still got a face made to sell collagen spray and a body made for thirst traps. He takes a little extra time with his hair. He takes a little extra time choosing his outfit, running his hands through the couture in his suitcases, the thick wool and crisp linen, bumpy tweed, featherlight jersey. He pulls out a couple favorites. The gray pleated skirt. Thom Browne, of course. He hesitates between the matching sports coat and the red LV bomber. He always feels like hot shit in the bomber, but he should probably go for the look that says I’ll see you in court. His fingers trail over the soft leather of the bomber as he puts it back in his suitcase.

He snaps a couple pics when he’s done. There’s no way he’d post something with this hotel room as a background, but look at his hair. Perfect. His outfit. Impeccable. And there’s that Harrington smile.

There only seems to be one Uber driver in this town, but at least the guy was- Well, no, he wasn’t friendly. But he did help Steve carry his bags to the motel room. He knows the town too. Maybe Steve can pump him for the dirt on Robin and the store.

It’s a van than pulls up to the motel parking lot though, not the Oldsmobile from yesterday. Steve peers in the window, just in case he’s about to get kidnapped.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath when a very familiar pair of brown eyes meet his. Long hair and tattoos. Leather jacket just like last night. Steve would almost rather walk. But he is dressed to threaten legal action. Probably best not to show up sweaty.

Steve opens the sliding door to the back. It’s full of an alarming amount of crap. Tools, and random metal parts of something. A car? Steve doesn’t know. Wood, a small plastic lawn chair, a lawnmower, an amp for some reason-

The guy pats the passenger’s seat. “Up here, big boy.”

Steve climbs in as smoothly as he can. Just because he humiliated himself last night doesn’t mean he has to do it again.

“I’m Eddie,” the guys says. “And you’re… Steve?” He reads off the phone in his hand. “I didn’t catch your name before.”

Steve could maybe pretend he doesn’t remember. Do the whole “I’m sorry have we met?” It can be devastating if you drop it on the right person. But he’s pretty sure all he’ll get if he tries it on this guy, Eddie, is a knowing smirk.

Fuck it. “Came on a little strong,” Steve says. “Sorry, I guess.”

Eddie pulls out of the parking lot. “No apology needed. You’re not that bad a kisser.”

Steve knows exactly what Eddie’s doing, but he can’t just not set the record straight. “I’m a good kisser.” Eddie shrugs, still with that teasing grin on his face. His eyes on his rearview. “I escaped from the Yakuza because of how good a kisser I am.”

Eddie shoots him a skeptical look. “If you say so.”

“I’m serious. I have literally been given a car because of how good a kisser I am. A really nice car.”

Eddie laughs. “I mean, if you want to prove it we could try again. See if I’m inspired to buy you breakfast.” He chucks Steve under the chin, condescending. Steve wants to eviscerate him. He also kind of wants to take him up on it, a surge of heat spearing through his gut. What is it about this fucking guy? He bats Eddie’s hand away.

“Excuse you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are we asking for permission before we grab each other now?”

“That was a one time grabbing,” Steve says. “Temporary insanity. So how about we both agree to keep our hands to ourselves from here on out.”

“Your loss.” Eddie flashes his teeth. He’s such an asshole. It’s really unfortunate how bad Steve wants to touch his dick.

There’s a closed sign on the door of the video store, and no lights on. It’s well past nine. This is no way to run a business. Steve knocks on the door, but the lights stay off.

He waits five minutes, ten, before giving up and heading down the street toward the diner. He’ll kill some time having breakfast, then try again. Chrissy’s at the counter in her perky little ponytail. He smiles when she gives him a blushy wiggle of her fingers, and takes a seat at the counter.

“Did you have a good time at the party?” she asks.

“Would have been better if you were there.” She giggles, handing him a menu. “I looked for you.”

“I had to close up.” She bites her lip, scrunches her nose. “I got there late.” She leans in across the counter and lowers her voice like she’s telling secrets. “I looked for you too.”

Steve wouldn’t mind the distraction. A no strings fling with someone like her. Someone who’d be sweet on his tongue. Soft in his arms. Not like Eddie. Eddie’s too-

Eddie pops up from behind the counter with a screwdriver in his mouth. Fucking hell. Is the guy a living jumpscare? Why is he everywhere Steve goes?

He has his hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, and his jacket off. Tight Metallica tee that shows off the tattoos on his arms. Full sleeves of stark black ink that Steve doesn’t have time to pick apart before he’s making himself look down at the menu. He’s thinking about breakfast and not about rough fingers on his skin, a warm mouth wrapped around his- Nope. He’s not thinking about that.

“Flirt on your own time, Chris.” Steve looks up at the warmth in Eddie’s tone. It’s teasing, but without the edge he takes when he’s poking at Steve.

Chrissy rolls her eyes at him and smacks him on the shoulder. “Shut up, jerk. I’m not paying you to hassle me.”

“Where’s that replacement motor?” Eddie asks. She looks around, and snatches it up off the counter. He takes it, and holds on, her hand caught in his as he raises an eyebrow and says, “Be good.” They both look at Steve. He hopes they don’t think they’re being subtle.

Steve watches as they look back at each other, a whole conversation in the way Chrissy wrinkles her nose and Eddie gives his head a shake. They’re definitely fucking. So much for that distraction.

The store’s still closed when Steve gets back from the diner. This has to be deliberate. Is Robin avoiding him? Hoping he’ll go away? Joke’s on her. It’s not like he has anywhere else to go.

A bunch of kids are sitting on the steps of the store, arguing with each other about Minecraft or whatever kids like.

“Anyone know why they aren’t open?” Steve asks.

One of the kids, curly haired with a trucker hat shrugs. “We were wondering the same thing.”

“Maybe she’s sick,” a red headed girl offers.

“She seemed fine yesterday,” Steve says.

“Usually you’re not sick right up until you are, so-” The red head looks at Steve with a level of withering disdain only middle schoolers are capable of.

“What are you guys even doing here?” Steve says. “Don’t you have netflix?”

“Of course we have netflix,” a lanky, dark haired scarecrow of a boy says. He runs a close second on the withering disdain meter to Red Head.

A chorus of voices overlap each other.

“Robin has lots of stuff that’s not on netflix.”

“And she lets us play DND at the store.

“We’re making a movie.”

“What kind of movie?” Steve instantly regrets asking.

Five voices start clamoring. Steve gets about three words of it. One of the words is “Demogorgon,” which he’s pretty sure is not actually a word. A smaller boy with stick straight brown hair in a truly unfortunate bowl cut holds up several weird drawings that don’t help make anything clearer.

“Did you do the window?” Steve asks the kid, ignoring the rest of the useless non-information being yelled at him. He points at the poster for Ghostbusters. It’s one of the better ones.

“Yeah,” the kid says. “I’m Will.” He points at a signature in the corner of the poster. Steve’s having a hard time not looking at his haircut. He’s pretty sure it would qualify as child abuse.

Trucker Hat grabs the stack of pictures from Will’s hand and starts laying them out on the sidewalk. The other kids start yelling again, rearranging the order and calling each other stupid, uninspired, derivative…

“We still don’t even have a hero!”

“And who’s going to play Daisy?”

“Plus the third act and-”

“But the costume has to-”

“Guys,” a good looking, dark-skinned boy says, swinging a bat in front of him. “Come on. I can play the hero.”

“You’re not a hero, Lucas. You’re a shrimp,” Trucker Hat says.

“We already decided none of us would be the hero,” Scarecrow says.

“What about him?” Red Head asks.

Steve looks up from the pictures he’d been trying to puzzle through. It’s like a very confusing comic book with no words. “What?”

“Are you like, athletic?” Will says.

“He is pretty tall,” Scarecrow admits reluctantly.

“He’s obviously not busy.”

“Can you swing a bat?” Lucas asks.

Steve isn’t sure he likes where this is going, but- “Can I swing a bat.” Steve snorts. “I played polo against Prince William. And I won.”

“They don’t use a bat in polo,” Trucker Hat points out.

“Gimme the fucking-” Steve snatches the bat out of Lucas’ hand. He puts his handbag down and spins the bat around his wrist once to get a feel for it. Then swings at the closest thing to him. Which happens to be a mailbox. With a gnome sitting on top of it.

The gnome goes flying, and keeps flying.

“Holy shit,” Lucas says. The kids watch wide-eyed as the thing sails all the way down the block and across the street. Knocking through a window with the loud smash of glass shattering.

Oops.

But still. “I told you,” Steve says, flipping the bat up and catching it one handed.

“Jesus Christ.” Trucker Hat sounds a little bit impressed, and a little bit freaked out.

“That’s the police station,” Will says, sounding more freaked out than impressed.

A few cops burst of the building.

“Run for it,” Red Head says, taking off on her skateboard with a gaggle of bicycles in hot pursuit.

By the time the cops make it down the street Steve’s the only one there. Bat in hand.

“Fucking kids.”

#my working title is #hide your diamonds hide your exes #wip wednesday #my fic #my fic: schitt's creek au #steddie fic #steddie au

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