#the grand californian

[laurenovercalifornia]

Cute photos of me and my mom on our trip part 2.

[stickers-on-a-laptop]

actually watching a show set in california for once and judging the amount of likes in it (there's not enough)

[magicaltrash]

Did you lose a sandal? Maybe a shirt? Try looking on top of this can over at the Grand Californian. // Disneyland Resort, Disney's Grand Californian Hotel & Spa, 2023 [Source: Jeremiah Good. Used by Permission.]

[snckt]

tonight’s sunset ✨🍊

[lucaalbertoadventures]

"Trick or Treat! Bwahahaha! Come on and take a chance with Mr. Oogie Boogie!" 🎃🎲🍭

[datdisney]

The magic of Disney Christmas pastries! For those of you who know the ginger bread is out of this world!

[biggoldbelt]

TIANA'S BAYOU ADVENTURE COMING TO DISNEYLAND THIS HOLIDAY SEASON !!

Disneyland is gearing up for the holiday season! If you’re a die-hard Disney fan like me, we have some exciting updates for you. Tiana’s Bayou Adventure is coming to Disneyland  On November 15th, 2024 head on down the Bayou for the opening of Tiana’s Bayou Adventure, and just in time for the Disney Holiday celebrations. The opening date of this attraction was announced at D23 by Chairman Josh…

[thesingletraveller]

There's No Spell To Break at Napa Rose

The Solo Scale: As with any restaurant that has prix fixe, the dining experience takes a little longer than usual, but your waiter will be an excellent conversation partner throughout the meal and there will be plenty to enjoy! I enjoyed this restaurant with a friend, but would have happily dined alone with no issue. If you’re going to Disneyland, there’s not going to be a lack of dining…

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Who made the biggest sword ever?

"Biggest" can mean a few things:

The heaviest sword of all time is the 468lb "Le Glaive Chungeuse" of King Louis LXIX, so heavy nobody could wield it.

The longest sword ever made was the Gobai-nodachi, or "quintuple length longsword" forged by Masayoshi Johnson for a ceremony said to have resulted in the deaths of everyone present.

The thickest sword, three feet thick but only six inches long, was the Hungarian Chodesaber, which was used mostly for flattening dough.

The widest sword is currently the Grand Coronation Stub of King Charles, ruler of England as of March 2024. Shaped like a shallow isosceles triangle, its tip is almost 165 degrees.

The most expensive sword ever forged was the Diamond Sprinklesword of Muffy von Fitzwiggle-Plumnugget, which a rich Californian gave to his chihuahua for its third birthday. It could have paid to feed 30 billion people for five lifetimes.

The "biggest" sword in terms of fame and notoriety is the Sword of Damocles, which metaphorically hangs over the head of those with power as a reminder to be responsible lest they grow greedy or despotic. It has not been seen since around November of 2016.

Though not "big" per se, the sharpest sword of all time is currently being constructed at the Large Hadron Collider at CERN, and will be exactly one hydrogen ion thick at its point. It will be used exclusively to get the gunk out from the fingernails of the intern who is forging it. And God knows Harold needs it, just look at them on his facebook they're fucking disgusting.

[lathrine]

spouse bonding time? you mean time to sit down and plan a disneyland vacation just financially viable enough to be tantalizing but still outside of what we can realistically afford

[scuderiasundays]

you and me together

summary: a growing rift between you and carlos mixed with late night celebrations for an old friend + a little insta au at the end!

words: 1,345

a/n: this is the first time i've gotten a request for a fic so a big thank you to anon for sending this in! i've been fixated on who will win wimbledon 2023 so i had to incorporate a few tennis players 🎾

Carlos had managed to score some much-needed time off to make it to Wimbledon. The two of you had always dreamed of witnessing the pinnacle of tennis, booking the trip ages ago when the two of you were on steadier ground. Carlos was going to join you after his stint at Silverstone, while you had landed in London a day earlier to reconnect with college friends.

"Looks like Taylor's the hot favorite this year," you grinned. You and Taylor had a loose connection through Alexa, his cousin, who happened to be your college roommate. Whenever Taylor felt overwhelmed by the pressure of ATP rankings, he would swing by their apartment unannounced. The easygoing Californian would tag along to frat parties, going in as a stranger and emerging with a whole crew of newfound friends. You had played the role of Taylor's personal chauffeur, escorting him home in his intoxicated state, all the while indulging in his drunken rants about seeds, tournaments, and prize money. You always had a hunch that he had a thing for you, but your busy schedules kept the two of you delicately tiptoeing around the topic, never quite addressing it head-on.

You couldn't help but wonder how different things would be if you had taken a chance on Taylor. Stuck in a relationship that felt stagnant, you walked through the familiar streets of a city where you and Carlos had once roamed during his McLaren days. London summers seemed to stretch on forever, with the sun setting late around 9:30 PM. You and Carlos had once strolled through the city hand in hand, lost in aimless conversation. Now, the demands of your job kept you from accompanying Carlos to race weekends, while he rarely made it home, going straight from races to the simulator in Maranello.

When Carlos strolled into the hotel lobby with Charles by his side, you couldn't help but let out a faint sigh. It wasn't exactly a huge surprise since you knew Charles was a tennis fanatic, and you actually liked hanging out with him. On the other hand, you had secretly hoped this trip would be your shot at reconnecting with Carlos and maybe reviving the dwindling spark. Well, there goes that idea, you thought, feeling a twinge of disappointment set in.

As you entered the hotel room, Carlos asked, "You don't mind that I brought him, do you?" You replied, "No, not at all." Carlos proceeded to mention that he had to hit the gym since the Hungarian Grand Prix was coming up, emphasizing his "no days off" mentality. He affectionately kissed your forehead before shutting the door behind him.

Just as you were about to head out, a text notification popped up. It was from Carlos, apologizing that he couldn't make it to the Gentlemen’s Singles Final. Ferrari had sprung a last-minute PR commitment on him and Charles, but he promised to make it up to you. You were gutted, quickly dialing Alexa's number. You didn’t even feel like watching the match anymore, but she was adamant that you join her in Taylor's box. It had been years since you had last seen Taylor, and you were dazed by just how much he’d changed—a newfound aura of confidence that screamed "America’s No. 1."

"Y/N, it's been too long!" Taylor exclaimed as he pulled you into a warm hug. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as you wished him luck and turned your attention to Centre Court, where Taylor was about to embark on an epic showdown against Carlos Alcaraz, the newly crowned world No. 1.

As the final point was won, the stadium erupted into an explosion of applause and admiration. Taylor stood tall, basking in the well-deserved glory of his hard-fought win. Emotions ran high as he shook his opponent’s hand in a display of sportsmanship and mutual respect.

Taylor's victory had set the stage for a night out on the town, and drinks were on him as the entourage made their way into the vibrant Sexy Fish in Mayfair. Congratulations poured in from all directions, amplifying the elation in the air. However, amidst the festive ambience, a pang of longing tugged at your heart, reminding you of the nights you’d spent by Carlos' side, reveling in his victories and beaming with pride.

As the evening progressed and the champagne flowed, you playfully grabbed an imaginary microphone, assuming the role of a reporter. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you turned to Taylor, who stood at the bar, soaking it all in. "You just won Wimbledon! How does it feel to be on top of the world, Mr. Fritz?" you mockingly asked him.

Taylor, caught off guard but never without his notorious charm, grinned and replied, "I don't even have words, Y/N. I wasn't in the best headspace going into the match, but you showed up, and something just clicked. Maybe I'd be World No.1 if you were in my box at every tournament." His playful words made you blush, fully aware of the harmless flirtation at play. You knew you weren't doing anything wrong, yet the room seemed to spin, overwhelming you with a sudden rush of emotions. Excusing yourself, you swiftly made your way towards the ladies' room, seeking a moment alone to gather your thoughts in the midst of the whirlwind celebration.

As Carlos and Charles walked into the restaurant, accompanied by a group of older executives, they immediately spotted you amidst the crowd. Charles couldn't help but make a lighthearted remark, "Funny seeing you here, Y/N! Any chance you can introduce us to the Wimbledon champion?" Relief washed over you, knowing they hadn't overheard your conversation with Taylor. Taylor was stunned to say the least as you walked back to the bar with two rather muscular men by your side.

“Taylor, meet the Scuderia Ferrari boys. Boys, meet Taylor.” The handshake exchanged between the three men was cordial, but Carlos, always quick-witted and ever possessive, raised one of his infamous eyebrows and chimed in, "Thanks for the introduction but I’m your boyfriend more importantly, no?" The playful remark had a tinge of jealousy in it, causing a momentary pause in the conversation.

Just then, Alexa, your ever-supportive confidante, happened to pass by. In her extremely inebriated state, she voiced what had been gnawing at her mind, "Not for long if you don't treat her right. You barely show up for her." Alexa had been there through the ups and downs of your rollercoaster of a relationship, aware of the challenges posed by long-distance and the strain it had placed on the both of you.

Overwhelmed by the weight of it all, you felt the need to escape for a moment. Without a word, you made your way outside, craving the coolness of the night air. Carlos, sensing your distress, followed closely behind. Observing your shivering, he swiftly handed you his navy blazer, offering you comfort in the only way he knew how.

"I'm sorry I haven’t been putting us first lately. I can tell I'm losing you," Carlos admitted with a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, his hands fidgeting nervously—a telltale sign of his unease. You could tell he was hurting as he struggled to find the right words. He had been grappling with the reality of your relationship slipping away, yet hesitant to poke the bear.

“It’s not just you, Carlos. It’s me too. Neither of us has been putting in the work and it shows.” Carlos nodded as his gaze softened.

“Where do we go from here?” Carlos muttered.

"Where do we go from here?" you repeated, mulling over the open-ended question. It held infinite possibilities, a multitude of paths stretching out before the two of you. And in that moment, you knew what you wanted more than anything.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you looked up at Carlos, a spark dancing in your eyes. "Let's just walk around the city like we used to. Take me anywhere, as long as the night ends with you and me together."

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

liked by carlossainz55, taylorfritz, and 57,575 others

yourusername: what a weekend! catching up with forever friends, getting my steps in, and watching the sunrise with my person 💚

alexafritz: you’re stuck with me for life

yourusername: i love this photo of you, lex! i’d be lost in a world without you 🫶🏼

carlossainz55: solamente mía

pierregasly: how dare you even think of going to wimbledon without me, @charles_leclerc 😤

charles_leclerc: calme-toi, mate! i didn’t even get to go but i did meet @taylorfritz 😏

yourusername: get a room

fan1: i went on a run in primrose hill this morning but i didn't want to bother carlos and @yourusername because they looked so blissfully in love

taylorfritz: you and lex are the best (loudest) cheerleaders 📢

yourusername: rooting for you always!

update: part two here ➡️

[laurenovercalifornia]

[yelenasdiary]

Once Upon A Dream

Pairing: Military! Yelena Belova x Fem! Nurse! Reader

Summary: Yelena surprises you and shared daughter with a vacation to remember!

Warnings: Teeny Tiny Angst, Fluff, Mentions of scars, Brief Mention of PTSD | 2.3K

Translations: милый (darling), Detka (baby), 

AC: I think this little AU deserves a happy fic, so enjoy! Also friendly reminder, this is the only variant of Yelena that I can see having a child, if this isn’t your vibe, don’t read xx. 

"Where are we going?" you turned to your wife who grabbed the last suitcase from the trunk of the Uber's car. "You'll find out tonight" Yelena replied with a cheeky smirk on her lips, with a shack of your head at her you grabbed your suitcase with your free hand, Natalia holding your other before the three of you walked into the airport. Natalia now a 5-year-old was most excited to be going on her first plane ride rather than finding out what her Mama had planned for the family of three. 

Yelena did everything in her power to keep the surprise from slipping, she checked in the three of you while you sat near the terminal with Natalia. "Mommy when do we get on the plane?" she asked, holding her stuffed Maleficent as a dragon plushie. "You'll have to ask mama peanut, when she gets back" you replied. The little girl with blonde hair and big green eyes threw herself on the seat beside you and huffed making you raise a brow slightly at her little outburst. 

"Everything is all set" Yelena smiled as she sat down beside you, keeping the plane tickets out of view. "Mama, can we get on the plane now?" Natalia asked looking over you to Yelena, "Shortly милый, come here, I have a secret to tell you" Your wife gestured for the little girl to walk over to her with her index finger. Natalia loved secrets, mainly because she loved the tickle feeling she got whenever somebody whispered into her ear. You watched as your daughter's face lit up rather quickly with whatever your wife just whispered to her, she jumped up and down trying to keep herself from squealing which only made your mind run through ideas of what Yelena could possibly have planned. 

The flight was 5.5 hours long, Natalia was asleep with her head resting against your forearm as she slept peacefully between you and Yelena. "She's not going to sleep tonight" you whispered to your wife. 

"I've already got that part covered; don't you worry about a single thing" Yelena winked before her eyes returned to the book in her hand. By now you were just desperate to know what Yelena was up too, she just returned from a 10-month deployment a week ago and ever since coming home she had been very secretive. 

It wasn't until the three of you were in the backseat of another Uber that Yelena finally told you what was happening. With a slightly tired little girl sitting in between you both, Yelena reached into her backpack and pulled out three horned headbands. 

"So, this is where I can't keep the secret anymore" Yelena looked at you, handing you a headbang with a soft smile, "We're spending a week at Disneyland!" she added. Natalia put on her maleficent themed headband and looked up at you with the biggest smile, "Mama said Maleficent will be there!!!" she boosted. You couldn't help but smile before reaching over Natalia and kissing Yelena deeply, "surprise detka" she smiled against your lips. 

Yelena knew how much you've wanted to experience Disneyland with the three of you but the dream had become such a long distant thought over the past few years that you almost forgot all about it. "Thank you" you replied before kissing her again. Yelena had planned everything to perfection, not a single thing was left unthought of. Your little family would be staying in a 2-bedroom suite at Disney's Grand Californian Hotel & Spa and Yelena wasn't lying when she said she had Natalia getting some more sleep covered. 

Once at the hotel, you helped Natalia get into her Moana themed pjs before Yelena reminded her that she needs to get a goodnights sleep before she goes on a magical adventure tomorrow. Of course, only after a bedtime story was the little girl who was almost too much of a spitting image of her mother asleep snuggled into her plushie. 

"Honey" you spoke softly has you unpacked the toiletries and placed them on the bathroom countertop. Yelena came up behind you, instantly wrapping her arms around your waist, "yes my love?" She smiled before placing a kiss on your cheek. It was already getting late, soon to be 10pm and you had no idea what Yelena had planned for tomorrow. You turned in her arms, wrapping your arms around the back of her neck with a bottle of cream in one hand. 

"How long have you had this planned?" You asked with a soft smile. 

"Months, I had Nat help me book stuff while I was away. If you think the surprises stop here, you're wrong" she replied before kissing your lips softly, "Kate is going to fly out here in 2 days and watch Natalia so we can have some time alone" she added. You and Yelena haven't had a decent chance to have some one on one time for a long time, between her deployments, having Natalia & your own deployment, finding time for each other was almost near impossible but you both made do with what you had. 

"You really are full of surprises" your smile grew, "could you please?" You asked, bringing the cream in your hand to Yelena's view. She nodded, "go lay down detka, I'll be there in a moment, just going to brush my teeth" she replied before kissing you deeply once more. This new part of your nightly routine was never your favorite but somehow, Yelena was able to make you forget why she was rubbing cream into the scars on your back. Maybe it was the way she kissed every single one of them before she worked her hands softly and tenderly over them with cream while she told you jokes that she found hilarious. 

Or maybe it was how tightly she held you close to her afterwards, whispering sweet nothings as you fell into a slumber in her protective and loving arms. Either way, she made the process easier. 

——

Natalia was up bright and early at 6am with pure excitement for the day ahead. She slipped out of bed and was quick to her Maleficent horned headband before running into your shaded room with your wife and jumping on the two of you. 

"Mommy wake up!!" She shook you awake before Yelena wrapped her arms around her making her squeal as her mother covered her little face with kisses. "Mama!!! That tickles!!" Your daughter giggled in the arms of your wife while your eyes adjusted to being awake. 

You smiled softly as you watched your wife hop off the bed with your daughter still in her arms, flying her around the room. "Faster Mama!!!" Natalia giggled, her arms spread wide as if she was an airplane. It always amazed you just how much energy Yelena had so early in the morning while it was a bit of a struggle for you to wake up without a warm mug of coffee or tea depending on the weather. 

"Bug do you want a bath this morning or a shower? You didn't haven't one last night" you asked your daughter as Yelena placed her back on her feet and you sat up in bed.

"Shower! I'm a big girl now!" She replied with confidence. 

"I'll help her, you get some coffee into you. We have breakfast reservations at 8" Yelena said as she wandered over to her suitcase. "Can I wear my horns today mama?" Natalia asked as she jumped back up onto the large bed and instantly cuddled you. "I've got the perfect outfit for you sweetheart!" Yelena replied as she turned around with a child sized Maleficent costume in hand, "what do you think?" she asked with a smile. 

Natalia's eyes widened at the costume before she nodded her head ecstatically. Thanks to Kate, Maleficent was your daughter's favorite Disney character, she loved how Maleficent was able to transform into a dragon, it blew her mind when Kate had Maleficent: Mistress of all evil playing in the background once while babysitting Natalia. 

Breakfast was a whole new experience for your little one, Yelena booking a table for 3 at Disney Princess Breakfast Adventure, giving Natalia a breakfast experience that she'll never forget. Entering the restaurant, you were greeted by 2 different princesses and of course, Natalia's eyes lit up when she saw one of them was Aurora. 

She let go of your hand and ran up to the woman in the pink dress, you couldn't help yourself but capture the moment on your phone while your daughter played her role as maleficent and made jokes about putting a spell on the princess. Your eyes looked over to your wife who was watching the event unfold in front of her, a soft smile on her lips and a loving look in her eyes made you realise this trip was something Yelena needed for herself as well. A whole different environment, surrounded by excitement, love and other families to help her forget the events she had experienced recently. 

The rest of the day was spent at Disneyland, Yelena taking Natalia on multiple rides over and over again, shopping of course, stopping every few steps to meet the next famous character walking around the theme park. Everything was so exciting for Natalia, her smile glued to her face the entire day, as for you, you had to capture so many moments on your phone's camera causing a growing excitement to make a scrapbook when you returned home. 

"Can we go again mama?! Pleaseeee?" Natalia begged to go another round on the Dumbo the Flying Elephant ride. 

"We can't detka, we have to get to the Halloween party for your big surprise remember?" Yelena replied with her hand reaching out for your daughter to cling onto. Natalia ran to her mother's side without a second thought, the three of you began to walk towards the Halloween party. The area was surrounded by other Disneyland goers as they all crowed some of the characters standing out the front while others took pictures and videos with them. 

"I can't see mama!" Natalia looked up at Yelena. Natalia was a little shorter than most children her age, but it never usually bothered her until it came to doing things that required her height to be taller. You watched as your wife picked up your daughter and placed her on her shoulders, another moment for you to capture on your phone. 

"Mommy! Mama!! Look!!!" Your daughter pointed with excitement as a woman dressed as Maleficent came out of the building, Natalia's face lit up instantly as she watched the fairy make her presence known. 

"Well, Well" the character spoke, their eyes looking around at the crowd of families and couples. "I don't like children but –" the fairy pointed to your daughter, "you, come here" she added. If Natalia had moved any faster your wife would've dropped her, she placed her on her feet before apologizing to those around her when Natalia pushed her way through to the character that she was dressed as. 

"Hi Maleficent!" Your daughter spoke with high confidence, a wide smile and a little sparkle in her eyes. The woman played the character all too well and Natalia loved every single moment. "Don't you look terribly evil today" Maleficent spoke followed by her famous chuckle, "and what evil things have you done today child?" she asked. 

"I made my mama go on lots of rides!" Natalia boosted making both you and your wife chuckle. 

"Where is your Mama?" Maleficent asked as she looked up at the crowd, "are you mama?" she pointed at Yelena when she saw you both laughing. Yelena nodded, "and that's my mommy!" Natalia added. 

"Well you better come forward, move out of the way people" Maleficent replied as she gestured for you and Yelena to take a few steps forward to get the best quality photos of the moment. 

"Now, maybe you can help me child" the fairy turned to your daughter one more, "have you seen young Aurora around by chance?" she asked. Natalia nodded, "she was at the restaurant I had breakfast at!" 

"Did you cast a spell on her for me?" Maleficent's question followed. 

"Yes! I put a sleeping spell on her!" Your daughter replied, even though she didn't think of such a thing, she was soaking up the moment she was sharing with her favorite villain. "Well done child, keep being evil and have a happy Halloween" Maleficent did her evil laugh once more before posing with Natalia.

----

After dinner at one of Disney's restaurants, the three of you stuck around for a fireworks show at 7pm. You could tell that Natalia would sleep like a log tonight, she was already so tired as you carried her to the viewing spot, Yelena's hands full of the bags of shopping she'd taken you and Natalia to before dinner. All throughout dinner your daughter couldn't stop talking about her meet and greet with Maleficent and you could tell by the look on Yelena's face that she was proud of herself for making sure this little vacation happened. 

As the fireworks began, Yelena wandered over to a nearby bench and sat down with her eyes glued to the ground. You knew the display was triggering her PTSD but before you could do anything, Natalia asked for you to put her down. You watched as she walked over to Yelena, "it's okay mama, I'll keep you safe" You heard her little innocent voice over the fireworks as she wrapped her tiny arms around your wife. Your eyes teared up, Natalia had no idea why her mother disliked fireworks so much, but she knew they scared her and she did exactly what you and Yelena did whenever there was a thunderstorm, be there for her. 

You wandered over to your girls and sat down beside Yelena, placing your head on her shoulder. The three of you watched the firework display, on of Yelena's hands rested on your knee while her other was wrapped around Natalia in a tight hug. "I love you mama" Natalia whispered once the fireworks were over, placing a kiss on her cheek.

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[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Toyota Supra A80 Prototype, 1990 & Toyota Supra A80, 1993. The top image is CALTY's proposal for the 4th generation Supra, juxtaposed with the series production car. CALTY’s intent was to take the Supra in the direction of a “pure sports car,” rather than continue with the previous models’ Grand Touring character. They gave it a long hood and a linear bulge so the engine bay could accommodate a large inline-6 engine. The car was presented as part of the 50th anniversary of Toyota's Californian design studio.

[d-criss-news]

Arielle Castorayme: Can't believe Christina and I got to take this fun selfie with my fellow half-Filipino Darren Criss (Glee, The Assassination of Gianni Versace) and Ben Feldman (Superstore) yesterday! We were hanging out by the pool at the Grand Californian Hotel and these two were the kindest, most gracious celebrities I've ever met. Thanks you guys, love your work ❤

[passivenovember]

Sharing again!

--

mirrorball

--

“You’re irate,” Robin says. 

And Steve can’t pretend that he knows the definition or that somewhere, past the churning noise of the party, and the wafting heat from the dancefloor, Steve has the slightest clue what to say other than, “Probably.”

Because in all the months he’s known her, if Robin says he’s irate then he probably is.

Steve wants to go home. He’s been over this scene for a while now, holding an empty red cup so no one asks him if he’s up for seconds and thirds. His eyes sting from the smoke. He’s never liked that about parties that don’t rage under his jurisdiction. 

If they were home right now, cutting the night away at Steve’s house, he’d tell them to take it outside. Not everyone’s a smoker. Not everyone wants to die early from nicotine poison, at least not from something as insignificant as second-hand smoke. 

But these are Tommy’s digs. And apparently, anything goes, here. People smoke and drink and fuck right out in the open, probably depositing colonies of lost children on the shag carpet underfoot, and Steve’s had enough. 

“This is really bothering you, huh?” Robin asks. 

“What are you talking about?”

On the other side of the room, past a string of holographic flowers cut from cellophane that dangles in Steve’s line of sight, Billy’s got a kaleidoscope of color dancing on his eyelashes and he’s standing really close to a guy with pretty hair.

That’s all Steve can clock about him.

His hair is nice. Long and brown and curly. 

And Steve’s been told a million times by his grandma that he’s got more to offer than a head of thick, Italian locks but with only a red cup and Robin’s fifty-cent words tethering him to this basement, Steve isn’t so sure. 

Robin knocks their shoulders together. “Billy,” She says. 

Steve can’t tear his eyes away from Billy’s eyelashes. “Where?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not stupid,” Steve snaps. “I just don’t see him.”

As if on cue, Billy steps closer to the guy. Gets right in the crook of his neck 'cause either. He knows Steve is watching or he’s trapped in his own little world.

Steve can’t figure out which is worse. Serving as the gasoline that fuels Billy’s night and earning a front-row seat to whatever happens next or being locked out. Forgotten. 

A sliver of perfect, golden skin peek-a-boos between the hem of Billy’s slashed Metallica tank top and a pair of leather pants Steve’s never seen before. Not in this basement. Not in his entire life.

He knows instantly he wants to see them trapped around Billy’s thighs. And on his bedroom floor. And melting, coughing up smoke until they’re memory when brownie-locks tugs Billy closer by his belt loop.

Steve crumples his red cup. “Let’s go,” He says. 

Again, Steve’s legs don’t move. 

“You should talk to him,” Robin says. “You should do something before–”

“Billy’s not going to fuck him,” Steve tells the shag carpet. He looks at Robin, and peers into her red-rimmed, pitying green eyes, because. “Right?”

She’s probably worried.

She’s probably tearing her hair down from its edgy updo in fear that their very own ray of Californian sunshine is going home with a stranger tonight. 

Robin’s lips disappear between her teeth, “I don’t know,” She says honestly. 

Robin cherry-picks her words. It’s such a contrast to the way Steve bulldozes his way through grand statements and sweeping apologies. It’s comforting. He hangs on her every expression to know he’s not crazy. He tracks the way she stares past those goddamn cellophane flowers until her eyes get big.

Robin glances over, cheeks red as speeding firetrucks even in the shitty light of this shitty fucking basement.

“What?” Steve demands, and he stares at the horizon to find, that. 

Billy and his Motley Crue knockoff have disappeared.

Steve sucks in a sharp, desperate breath. 

“Steve,” Robin says. 

He can’t feel his toes. He knew this would happen. He should’ve told Billy he loved him when he had the chance, and now.

Robin rubs his knee. 

“Maybe they just. Got swallowed by the wallpaper, or something.” And Steve sounds almost believable. He almost believes it himself, you know? Because how could his entire sex life have gone up in smoke in the last thirty-six hours? It doesn’t make a lick of sense. He was inside Billy Hargrove thirty-eight hours ago, and now--

The room might as well be empty.

“This is such bullshit,” Steve shakes his head. “He better wear a condom.”

Robin snorts, “You really think Billy’s gonna top?” Her fingers snake around Steve’s shoulder blades, rubbing at the knot of muscles in the side of his neck. “You can’t let it get to you, Harrington.”

Steve has to swallow the immediate desire to protect his shoddy, half-assed fortress of Cool Guy that has been falling apart, brick by brick, since the first time Billy sported hickeys on his neck in the shape of Steve’s mouth and told him that this meant nothing.

Steve wants to bury his face in his hands. 

He wants to pull his hair out by the root and scream and scream and never stop screaming until finally Billy admits that this is love.

That they’re in love with each other.

Whatever that looks like. Forgetting the condom, maybe.

Robin rocks their shoulders together. “Do you want another drink?”

Steve wants that, too. 

He hands his cup over, instead, “I’m going out for a smoke,” Steve mumbles, because even though Tommy’s parents have money and could replace it no-problem, he still pretends to respect the wallpaper he knows Mrs. Hagan chose special.

--

Billy only lets Eddie get his hands under his shirt because Steve’s watching. 

Only. Steve misses it, because he doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything. He’s too busy talking to Robin, and it’s fucked up that the cocktail of vodka and cheap dope has Billy jealous about that, too. 

Like it’s not enough that he's consumed by jealous hatred of Steve’s sweater for draping itself over him all day, but Billy’s gotta drag his favorite lesbian into this. 

Nothing is holy, anymore.

The angry, love-drunk, pissed-off part of himself whispers that Steve and Robin are going home with each other tonight, even though Billy knows that means hideous fleece pajamas and no grabby hands.

It doesn’t matter.

Eddie scrapes a nail over Billy’s nipple and Billy thinks he’s gotta get even. 

If Steve is going to sit on that fucking couch and uphold their agreement that this means nothing, Billy’s going to fuck this stranger.

Done deal.

So Steve looks away and Billy tugs Eddie’s hand to his waist to get his mind off the mole on Steve’s cheek. 

“Got a condom?” He slurs. He’s fucked up. Can’t even stand straight without the wall or this guy propping him up. 

Eddie detaches himself from Billy’s neck, and. “A condom?” He asks, not understanding.

Even in Tommy’s shitty basement, he’s got nice eyes. 

Big and brown and kind, like Steve’s, but. He’s not Steve. 

That could be good, right? Billy could work with that. “You don’t wanna fuck me?” He bitches. Hurt, maybe.

Eddie shakes his head, “No, I do it’s just,” He catches Billy when he stumbles and puts him back on the wall like Billy’s mom used to do with loose paintings when Neil pushed her into them. “Shit, darlin’, you’re drunk.”

It’s kind of hilarious. 

Billy snorts. Knows if Steve heard him he’d say Billy’s cute, and Billy wants to go home. Not to Cherry Lane, but to Steve. He wants to live there forever, and Max could come, too.

“I am drunk,” Billy admits. He leans forward, wetting his mouth and grinning when this poor country idiot can’t help but zero in on the shine. “I’m real easy when I’m sloshed.”

“I don’t know–”

“C’mon, Harrington says I open up nice when I’m blackout.”

Eddie blinks at him. Straightens his spine, all noble, so he can stare down his button-snout at Billy to demand, “He fucks you when you can’t stop him?”

Like he knows Steve.

Like he knows them like Billy’s his mom and he needs to be rescued.

It pisses him off. Gets his dick to lay flat, for once, and Billy’s fucking tired. “Oh, like you were about to?” Eddies cheeks flare. Billy waddles forward. Says, “I don’t even know you. Stop acting like you know shit about shit because you don’t.” Because. “I love him,” Billy adds, “I’m in love with him because he deserves it.”

Eddie sucks his teeth, “Oh yeah?”

“Maybe.”

“That him over there?” And Eddie jerks a thumb over his left shoulder. Steve’s watching them, cool as a fucking cucumber, and that does something to Billy. 

Makes him look at the situation from outside of it. 

Like, he just offered to fuck this guy, this random dude, and Steve doesn’t even care. And he’s not stupid. Likes to pretend he is, though, and that’s worse. He may be having a grand old time over there with Robs, lounging like a king on the same couch Tommy fucked Billy on last summer, but he knows.

He’s gotta know. 

Billy shakes his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” He gasps. 

It’s not Eddie’s fault. 

He’s a nice guy. He’s been sweet all night, asking about music and movies and books and only touching when Billy begs him for it. 

Eddie’s baby browns get big. He says, “There’s nothing wrong with you, sugar, people act crazy when they’re in love.” He pushes the hair off Billy’s forehead, looking sweet and concerned, “Do you wanna go outside, maybe? Get some fresh air?”

Across the room, Steve isn’t even watching them, anymore. 

He’s lost interest.

Maybe he never had it in the first place. And it stings. 

Strangely, Billy doesn’t feel like drawing blood when Eddie leaks kindness. He offers his hand and Billy is too drunk to do anything other than take it.

--

Billy’s edges are sharp enough to cut. 

The truth, though, is that Steve likes it. Every drop of venom tastes like gin burning down his throat, hungry for more because it leads to Billy.

Truth is, Steve sees through it. He’s been close enough to that incendiary spirit on dark midnights to notice the fireflies that gather for warmth around the hearth of it all. And the reality that Billy would even let him get close enough for danger to  flash red against Steve’s skin in the first place--

Maybe that’s one of the things Steve likes most. Even if it hurts, sometimes, there will always be proof that Billy was there. And that for a moment, their edges had fit together like pieces of a puzzle. 

Maybe it’s just the beer talking, but Steve can’t let him go.

So Steve busts out of Tommy’s shitty basement, ready to tear springy brown curls from the scalp of that handsome, flirting stranger, when he steps into a puddle of rainwater, instead.

His skin is on fire. The shock of cold puts things into perspective, Steve’s chest opening like a summer tulip to the enormity of the universe.

There’s a calm spring mist, settling like diamonds across his skin. The Earth smells forgotten. Like for years and years, someone took the fabric of the city and rolled it up and stored it away, and now it’s free again. Resting, moth eaten and threadbare, against the backdrop of Steve’s shitty fucking night. Steve’s awful realization, that. 

He loves Billy. Earth-shattering.

And Billy’s going to fuck someone else. Apocalyptic. 

And even if Billy doesn’t make brownie-locks wear a condom, Steve will sit by his bedroom window all night just in case Billy decides that it means nothing, too. Just like them.

“Goddammit,” Steve hops out of the puddle a minute too late.

There’s water in his sock, squishing like fresh mud between his toes. He imagines being home. Warm and showered with a full belly, dozing in front of the fireplace. In Steve’s daydream, he’s naked from the waist down while Billy pushes and pulls his leg hair and calls him colonizer shit spawn for having a marble hearth in his living room. 

It doesn’t sting. Nothing hurts because in Steve’s fantasy, they belong to each other. Every impossible summit has been scaled and they’ve sidestepped waterlogged potholes to get to the truth. Their relationship means something. Everything.

Steve’s heart shudders, reality eclipsing the moon until everything's so bright he catches on fire. 

He stalks to the side-fence, peering into the watery darkness for a shock of American-made blue.

Billy’s car is nowhere to be found. 

And historic, champagne-pink revelations aside, Steve fishes around for his pack of smokes and refuses to admit that he’s out here to kill the guy who wants to get Billy’s mouth on him.

Steve would lose, probably. He’s fucked up. This probably isn’t healthy.

He wonders if Billy would plan his funeral. If he’d cry for him and swear off guys forever and visit Steve’s grave every morning with a hard on. 

Steve hopes so.

He’s embarrassed, to the very root of him. He needs a light.

So Steve bites the butt of his cigarette and pads around the yard, trying to find someone with a matchbox. The Earth is beautiful. Mrs. Hagan is an excellent gardener. All around, bushels of lilacs and marigolds are set to bloom. He studies the fullness of each blossom, eyes tracking the deep green of their clinging branches. 

It’s not even April yet and they’re thriving. That’s just the expert of Mrs. Hagan. She’s a smart girl, she knows how to nurture difficult saplings through hardships and winter months with careful hands, and--

Relationships are kind of like that, people have said.

Someone said that, once. Right?

Steve almost drops his cigarette. He yanks a handful of marigolds from the soil. They come up with their roots still attached.

That's gotta mean something. Bad poetry that feels like the ‘acknowledgements,’ page in one of those books his mom is always reading. Chicken Soup for the Soul. He imagines what Billy would say about this revelation after he’s chewed on it for a while.

Steve pets over the bleeding roots of his bouquet. He's never had gentle fingers. He tries to, with Billy and with everything else, but it always lands a little crooked. 

If Billy knew how hard Steve was trying, he’d probably call him an asshole. Chew on his thumbnail and ask how it is that Steve can read minds, all of a sudden, if Billy didn’t teach him. Because Billy taught him everything he knows, apparently. How to skateboard, how to bake pies from scratch, and how to fuck. 

Which flowers are his favorite.

--

Billy’s nails are sharp enough to pierce the skin. 

He’s never tried to do it on purpose, but he always manages, somehow. 

It’s raining. And Eddie’s hand is soft and warm and his fingertips are calloused just enough that when Billy nearly falls on his ass trying to side-step the tasteful rocks in Tommy’s side-yard, Eddie’s got traction to steady him.

“Nails are fucking sharp,” Eddie says. But he’s smiling.

There’s no shit, in that grin. He’s not aiming to eat Billy’s heart and soul or anything else. Nothing at all like Steve. Billy doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Not like I need to worry about keeping ‘em short,” Billy grins back, sighing in relief when Tommy’s parents had the good sense to invest in picnic furniture, “I’m not a top. I was, until Harrington--”

“I think if you say his name one more time he’ll appear,” Eddie teases, “Like Beetlejuice.”

Billy flops onto a sun lounger. “Think I’m gonna be sick,”

Overhead the stars vibrate, undulating until it feels like God is trying to hack and slash his way through the dark night sky to get at Hawkins. 

“Do you want me to run and grab--” Eddie pauses, staring around the yard with exaggerated care, “Harring--”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“Told ya,” Eddie grins, “Beetlejuice.” 

And maybe it’s just the vodka talking, but Billy’s stomach is stuffed with butterfly hearts when this dumb, sweet, beautiful boy smiles at him.

Eddie perches at the base of the lounger. His boots plant themselves on the ground, nice and respectful, so if someone were to see them they might think Eddie was aiming to rescue Billy from alcohol poisoning right before he calls him a slur and takes off, cackling into the night.

He won’t, though. Eddie’s a nice person and even if he wasn’t, Billy knows when a guy’s caught.

Kid’s been watching him all night. Even now, Eddie peers through a curtain of springy curls, baby browns flitting all over Billy’s face and catching on the things Steve likes best about him, probably. His cum-gutter lashes and dick sucking lips--

“You eyes are really blue,” Eddie squints and slides closer, all, “Like, creepy blue.”

It’s written all over his face. Hook and line, blind with hope for things Billy could only ever give to Steve. "Creepy?"

"Yeah," Eddie says, full of wonder.

“Well fuck off, then,” Billy snaps. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

“You’re not a baby, and I’m just sitting, alright?” Eddie's silver-lined fingers rise to pat around his vest. Billy squares his jaw when he pulls away with an unsheathed cigarette. “I’m smoking,” Eddie tells him, “Just sittin’ down until I can get the cherry sparked.”

“You’re a dumbass.”

“Probably.”

“It’s annoying,” Billy shakes his head, staring out at the trees that line the Hagan’s side-yard, a hop and a skip to the neighbor's place. “You’re a good guy. Why are you so good?”

“’M not good,” Eddie admits softly. “You’re just. You’re fucking gorgeous, alright? And if you don’t wanna go home with me, I gotta keep you safe until the Prince can get to you.”

Billy’s eyes snap, heated, to Eddie’s grinning face. “This isn’t a fairytale,” He says. Because it isn’t.

But Eddie looks so hopeful. 

His eyes melt like chocolate kisses. 

“No, but it could be,” Eddie scoots a little bit closer, hand falling to rest on Billy’s knee, fingers slipping along leather. “Can I ask you something, gorgeous?”

“I’m not gorgeous,” Billy snaps. When Eddie grins again, Billy’s face warms. Hot as the sun. “Spit it out, Munson.”

“Why are you in love with him?”

“I’m not in love--”

“Billy.”

He’s uncomfortable, like this. A bug under a microscope so he’s gotta show his stinger and scare kindness away.

But Eddie’s too dumb to notice.

A thousand words bubble and rise like champagne at the back of Billy’s throat, each one fizzing out before it can shuffle past his teeth. All of them will land like fists. Split skin and draw blood, so.

Billy shakes his head. Settles on, “He’s not what I expected.”

“Yeah, but why him? I could be different than what you expected. I mean--”  Eddie’s fingers dance along Billy’s thigh. Touching but not quite, at the same time. Making his skin dance. “I already am, right?”

Billy shivers. 

“Yeah,” He admits. It burns like alcohol on open wounds to say out loud.

But the thing is-- 

“Steve’s different than you. Than everyone. He’s sweeter and brighter than anyone I’ve ever met. Event though it took forever to get there. He’s got layers. He’s not what you’d expect, because. He’s got this big fucking house, right? And it’s full of shit. Name-brand poptarts and every vinyl you could imagine and all his blankets are soft enough that they’re probably lost clouds, or something. And even when I’m with him, like. Even after we fuck and Steve gets what he wants from me, he always asks if I’m hungry. And he doesn’t believe it when I say that I’m full. That I’ve gotta jet. He cooks really good pasta. He sings. He’s got a good voice, and he puts my name in the song, sometimes. He lets me eat in bed and he plays with my hair while I fall asleep, and. That’s the biggest thing for me, you know?”

Eddie’s fingers wrap, like warm summer vines, around his own.

“I don’t sleep good anywhere. I get cagey, ‘cause of my old man. I’m always on alert. There was a while, last summer, where I slept with my shoes on. ‘S why I’m such a bitch all the time, I’m fucking exhausted, but with Steve,” Billy’s shaking. He’s gonna vibrate out of his skin. “Steve is my home town. He’s home, on a Saturday morning. I’ve never felt safe with anyone else.”

Billy’s going to cry.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Eddie doesn’t notice. And if he does notice, Eddie refuses to care. His eyes are intent on Billy’s face when Billy admits--

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Eddie tells him, “It’s alright.”

“Vodka turns me into a chatty bitch. I’ve never told anybody that, before,”

Eddie’s thumb strokes soft over Billy’s palm. “The stuff about Steve, or--”

“Any of it,” Billy looks up, caught in waves of warm, sweet brown. He sniffs, suddenly more nervous than he’s ever been in his entire life. “If you fuckin' yap to anybody about this, Munson--”

Eddie’s smile is like the setting sun. “Put your teeth away, baby, I’ll take it to my grave.”

Billy opens his mouth to say thank you. To admit that this night, for all the good and bad and embarrassing, has made everything feel easier. 

Eddie seems to hear it. To feel it in his bones.

He kisses the back of Billy’s hand, lips sliding warm and soft along Billy’s thumb, to the pad of each finger. 

Billy’s heart hammers, unsteadily in his chest, when those lips press lewd, against his palm.

“Eddie,” Billy mumbles, sounding frail even to his own ears. “Eddie, I--”

--

A bomb goes off. 

Steve thinks the sky might as well be full of mushroom clouds because war’s waged when brownie-locks takes all of Steve’s knuckles across the bridge of his nose.

Steve’s not left handed.

The punch, it’s. It’s awkward and more force than anything else, and it hurts like hell. Something’s probably broken.

“Fuck,” Steve hisses, same time Billy’s new boyfriend says, “Shit,” and Billy puts both of his calloused, strong, stocky, perfect fists on Steve’s chest to shove him back.

Steve goes easy, because he deserves it. He promised himself he wouldn’t do this. 

But. He’s seeing red, and he’s gotta know. “Billy--”

Billy looks like he wants to kill him, and he could. Steve would let it happen. He thinks about sinking to his knees right here, dropping the marigolds, begging to get his speech out before the light goes out in the sky forever.

Steve’s still got the unlit cigarette in his mouth. A bouquet in his hands. He takes it out. Drops the flowers. Steps closer and says, “Billy, did he kiss you?”

Because he has to know.

Billy stares at the marigold petals in fear. They're coiled snakes. They're the end of the world. “You’re drunk,” Billy says, same time his new boyfriend bolts upright and fucking cackles. 

“Harrington, huh?” Brownie-locks spits on the ground. It’s red. Steve tries not to feel proud. “Really are Beetlejuice, man.”

Steve ignores the boyfriend. He stares at Billy and tells the truth, “I am drunk. So are you.”

Billy doesn’t look at all like Steve imagined, now that his anger’s planted itself on brownie-lock’s face. 

Billy’s shaking. 

He’s got tears clinging to his lashes, and Steve knows everything’s his fault and he wants to die for that, but all the guilt in the world doesn’t stop him from turning on Billy’s new boyfriend and taking a step forward when brownie-locks says, “I wanted to fuck him until you came along.”

At least someone answers Steve’s question.

He feels a little bit like throwing up and a lot like going for round two. Turning this guy’s face to hamburger meat, but. 

Billy gets between them.

And he’s vibrating.

And no matter what they’re dealing with or how much they’re refusing to talk about, Steve never wants to be the reason Billy can’t hold still.

Regardless, Steve scoffs. “You’re seriously protecting this guy? From me?” 

He’s furious.

He’s so hurt and bleeding inside and angry--

“Go home, Steve,” Billy mutters. He’s not shaking anymore. He stands his ground, looking every bit like an avenging angel, and.

Steve loves him. He’s proud of him, but. “You don’t want me.” The words sound wrong. Garbled and stretched out.

The boyfriend stand ramrod straight all of a sudden, like, “Wait, that’s it?” And he looks so confused.

Hurt, even.

And that pisses Steve off, you know. Gets him feeling brave.

“What do you mean ‘that’s it,’” Steve paces forward, stopping only because Billy tacks a soft, warm hand to the center of his chest. “Are you really asking to get your dick knocked off, freak?”

Billy’s boyfriend laughs, “God, you’re so pretty and so, so fucking stupid.”

Steve knows. About the second part. So he rolls his neck and says, “Why are you still here?” Because--

Billy gets in front of him. He looks so beautiful, with moonlight painting his curls more bronze than gold. And his lashes are clumped together. “Why?” Steve asks again, because he has to know.

And suddenly it’s like everyone runs out of words.

They stare at him. Billy’s boyfriend rocks a little on each foot, eventually peering at the ground like there’s no place he’d rather be than nestled under it. "What's the with the flowers?" He asks.

The longer they ignore him, the more Steve’s set on digging the guy a hole in the ground. Burying him and leaving the marigolds there as a memory.

Steve’s losing his mind.

He’s going crazy, he--

“Why is this guy here with you, Billy?” Steve demands.

Billy stares at him, pretty pink mouth open. His palm is so warm on Steve’s chest, it’s like a sun spot. 

“Why do you want him here and not me?” Steve grabs that hand. Holds onto it, says, “Do you love him?” 

Billy bares his teeth. “Does it matter?”

“Billy,” Steve whispers. “Are you--of course. Of course it matters, you. You have to know, that--”

And he’s grateful to Billy’s boyfriend for not laughing at the way his voice, fucking. 

Cracks.

Bleeds.

Steve takes a deep breath. Tries again. “You’ve gotta know, right?”

And.

Apparently not.

Billy blinks at the stars, blue like the ocean set to spill. He takes his time. Gets his feet under him. Eventually, Billy bares his fangs and stares right through Steve’s skull. 

“Thought I meant nothing to you, Harrington,” Billy says.

And Steve dies.

He might as well not even exist. He might as well be a window. 

“Thought you just wanted me because I’m a warm place to slide into a night,” Billy rumbles, and. 

Steve. He’s never had teeth pulled when he could feel it. He’s never snapped a bone in half. He’s never seen God, either, but. 

He imagines it would all feel the same when he finally has the courage to say--

“I was just following your lead,” Steve’s so embarrassed. And ashamed. He can’t believe he made Billy feel like that, like a figment. 

It hurts worse than any pain he could conjure for himself, so.

"I. I mean, I picked marigolds for you, baby." Steve toes the edge of the cliff. “I love you," He tries, and. 

Falling feels a lot like flying, apparently.

Billy’s boyfriend disappears. Steve considers it a sign that even though Billy won’t look at him, he hasn’t pulled his hand away, yet.