#the real question here is: to do (limited) requests w/ prompts for the first time or to lock in for a series

[baeshijima]

hrrngghh... to make an event for a new follower milestone or to make the duke!sunday series be the milestone reward... hmmmmmm....

[gallaghersgal]

hello everyone! tysm for 1,500 followers, this means so much to me as someone who took almost a YEAR off of writing. the support i get and the friends i've made here mean so much to me! so LET'S CELEBTATE 🎉🎉

celebration masterlist here. looking for my main masterlist? it’s linked up top under "writer" <3

p.s. special shoutouts to my beloved moots at the bottom <3

❀ GENERAL RULES & INFO ❀

you can send in as many requests as you’d like!

if you don’t want spam, block/filter #maggie's 1.5k

it’s not required to be be following @gallaghersgal but it would be appreciated. if this is your first time interacting with my blog, come check me out!

also not required but if you like my content, go check out @carmenberzattosgf @thecapricunt1616 @mouseymilkovich @carmybrainworms and @notsonian they're great writers and even better friends! <33

this blog is NSFW, 18+ only, and so is this celebration! minors will be notified of this, then blocked if they don't unfollow. i'm not mean, i'm just not comfy with you reading my works underage.

anon is on, by sending an anon ask you are telling me you are 18+

my inbox is open now, so feel free to go send in asks!! celebration requests close Friday, August 23rd at midnight!

❀ REQUESTS ❀

send me in a character + prompt for a blurb! i am accepting prompts from this au list, this trope list, this smut list, or this other smut list.

please include the number or prompt, and the list it's from since there's more than one!

for this celebration i will write for any character from shameless, the bear, marvel cinematic universe, daredevil, all star wars trilogies, the mandalorian, and the clone wars. i will also write any of oscar isaac, pedro pascal, or barry keoghan's characters, or any formula one driver.

i will also write sydcarmy 😚🧚🏻‍♀️

i will do my best to write ANY character from the fandoms listed above, i know i have a wide range of followers! however, i am more likely to lean towards requests for the characters listed here.

please limit your request to one to two prompts, or one au/trope + one prompt. i will have a lot to write, so this will help me get your req done quicker!

requests missing a prompt or character will be deleted. general requests not w/o a celebration prompt will be saved for afterwards.

❀ GAMES ❀

send a 💒 + a self description for me to ship you with someone from any of the media listed here. please include the fandom/media you want a ship from, as well as preference for male/female character or of you have no preference.

send a 💿 for a 5 song playlist based off your blog! or add a character from the listed medias for a playlist based on them.

send a 💌 to shoutout a writer, or to self promo your own fic! i will read & reblog, or give my thoughts on their writings <33

send a 💘 + three characters or people for me to play fuck, marry, kill with

send a 🌸 and ask me any question you have about a blurb or fic of mine!

that's all! enjoy the celebration!! sappy shoutouts to my fav pookies below <33

@tinyphantomsalad THE first mutual i made on here that i'm still talking to. the man i run my filthiest porn by, and he doesn't bat an eye. the love and respect for you i have is insane. what are we at now? four years? feels like four hundred. i love u endlessly.

@thelazyhero-ttums the one that's in my corner 24/7. only irl i have on this god forsaken site, bc you're just so so special. how do you think 7th grade maggie with her hand written leo and calypso fanfic feels about 1.5k? thank you for being with me for all of it.

@devils-dares thank you for sticking by my side even with my change in eras!! and for vibe checking so many fics you know nothing about <33 ur a real one pooks

@carmenberzattosgf im thankful all the time that u messaged me first bc how else would i have someone to get up to dm shenanigans and share my ideas with?

@thecapricunt1616 my sweetest capri, i'm so happy we're friends, i love reading your messages and i LOOVEEE your moodboards my queen

@mouseymilkovich ur a real one cause who else is gonna send me 1926284 ethan cutkosky edits? i love hearing all your plot bunnies for speechless, i can't wait to see where you take the series!

@carmybrainworms i hope you're enjoying your time in the ocean, and i'm so glad i brought u over to the dark side with my lip fics. ur the sweetest silliest ever and ilysm

@l4long-winded & @emotionoitme we haven't talked much yet, but i'm so excited to share more ideas with each other! you're both amazing writers who i'm so glad to call my friends

@notsonian u are genuinely the sweetest, i love talking to you about our ideas (esp the mkverse!) and i love love looovveee your fics! keep up the good work <33

[plsimsuchasimp]

i’m sorry (ft: sugawara).

by request: “Hi!!!! Okay im so glad your requests are open - could I please request some angst with Sugawara? Where the reader is his best friend and secretly loves him but he doesn’t know? Then maybe the reader and Suga fight and then reader gets hurt or something (maybe a car accident) and when the Karasuno team finds out, Suga is devastated and goes to the hospital and tell the reader that he loves them?? Thank you!! ❤️” -anon

yes anon i’m happy to do this- i kinda changed up the prompt a lil bit so i’m sorry about that but i hope this measures up to your standards! (i’m ridiculously soft for suga so this makes sense)

genre: sadness (literal tears were shed in the process of making this)

ft: sugawara koushi x reader

warnings: car crash, fighting, cursing, hospitalization, death

wc: 2k

“Y/n, why are you so upset? I get that you’re concerned, and I’m grateful for that, but she’s genuinely a good person and I’m serious about her!” Suga walks away from you, his back turned, shoulders raised slightly in his sweater. You can sense his frustration, his confusion, but you don’t care. His face is pouty, lip sticking out ever so slightly, and you know you can’t look at him or you won’t be able to keep yourself from kissing him right then and there.

The thing is, you know she’s a good person. And that’s what hurts. See, you’ve been in love with Sugawara Koushi since the day you met him at the bus stop five years ago, on a hot summer day with a butterfly in his hair.

You can’t stop him from getting a new girlfriend, and you know it’s selfish of you to hope he likes you the way you like him, to hold on to him for all these years.

Sometimes when it’s late, you let yourself drift into your memories. The spring days when he would take you hiking, out into the mountains to show you his favorite spots, the times when your stomachs hurt from laughing at the dirty jokes he found off of random places on the internet, the rainy moments and baking cookies when it just seemed calm. With Suga, you felt at home like nowhere else. 

Now, your eyes sting unfairly, and you turn away from him as he glares towards you, brow furrowed. Struggling to keep your voice even, you say, “I know, okay Kou? I just- I don’t know, she gives me bad vibes.”

You know he doesn’t mean to be rude, but when he scoffs, your heart squeezes just a bit and tears prick your eyes. “You’re telling me to call off a whole relationship because she gives you bad vibes? You did this with all of my exes, too!” Suga sighs, hands on his hips. “You know you’re my best friend, but honestly, y/n, this has to stop. You can’t control my life!” 

He’s right. You know he’s right, and that’s the harsh thing about it. You want him all to yourself- everything about him is entrancing, intoxicating, familiar. Jealousy is a bitch.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

At this point, his jaw drops open at the sheer audacity of your remark. “I can’t do this with you today.” He throws up his hands and sits on the bed, making it clear he doesn’t really want to talk anymore.

Suga never really fights with you. He teases endlessly, but he always stops himself before he really hurts you, and the fights between the two of you are always calmer on his side. He’s usually the first to apologize, but it seems this is a sticking point for the two of you.

“Well? Go!” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he regrets it. You flinch backwards at his words, and he doesn’t miss the unmistakable glint of tears in your eyes as you walk out of the room.

“Fine, I guess I will!” As soon as you’re outside, you cover your mouth with your hand, your vision blurred from large drops threatening to spill from your eyelashes. You muffle your sobs with the sleeve of a sweatshirt Suga lent you, and it just makes you cry harder when you breathe in his slight cologne. 

He wasn’t going to let her go this time. You missed your chance.

You’re running, but where to? As soon as your thoughts stop spinning, your feet freeze, and you glance around you. Shaky breaths escape you as you duck your head and attempt to cross the street, questioning looks from passerby making your cheeks heat up. 

All of a sudden, you hear a car horn and freeze to see a car speeding towards you, out of control. The last thing you see before everything goes black is a child pointing at you, and you almost laugh at the incredulity of the situation. Then you black out on impact.

Back at Suga’s home, he sits in his bed, running his fingers through his silky hair. He curses under his breath, already hating the feeling. 

He hates when the only person he’s ever truly loved is mad at him. 

Honestly, Koushi can’t fathom why he keeps getting other people to date him, momentary distractions from his everlasting affection for you. You, the only person who’s there for him when he’s hurting, the only real friend to stay near him through everything, the only person he fell in love with on first sight. He wanted to be with you, but he didn’t want to ruin this was. 

Better to be certain friends with you and never get what he truly wanted than to try and lose you completely.

Suga picks up the phone to text you when he receives a call from an unfamiliar number, marked as the hospital of your district.

“Hello?"

“Is this Sugawara Koushi?” The female voice on the other end of the line asks.

“Yes, is everything okay?” He responds, curious as to why the hospital is calling him in the middle of the day.

“Well, we have Y/N L/N here, and you’re listed as one of their emergency contacts. Would you mind coming to the hospital to fill out some paperwork?”

Immediately, his world freezes. “W-what did you say?”

“I said, Y/N L/N is in the hospital and we need you to come in and see them.” She’s patient with him, voice even and calm, clearly used to people in shock from news of their loved ones. “They were involved in a car accident.”

He nods, momentarily forgetting she can’t see him. “Yeah, I’m on my way.” 

The line clicks, and he sits there for only a minute before hurrying down to his car, grabbing the keys and starting the car. He seems to forget basic movements, mind consumed only with thoughts of you. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered, edging above the speed limit on the road. He was tempted to honk at someone, but refrains from it, knowing it won’t help with the turmoil of emotions he was feeling.

Then, it hit him. This was his fault. He almost stopped the car in the middle of the road, throat closing as guilt washed over him. Koushi didn’t know you’d take it so hard, didn’t mean for it to come off that harshly.

He arrived at the hospital, and as he walked in, the receptionist looked up at him.

“Sugawara Koushi?” 

“Yes,” he said, and watched the smile slowly fade from her face. He noticed she tried to hide it, ducking her head, but it was too late. “Are they- are they going to be okay?” he gulped as she didn’t respond.

“Room 208,” she said curtly, “You should probably go in.”

The lights seemed to blur into each other as Suga practically ran to your room. Every footstep seemed to take forever, travel only a few centimeters forward. He couldn’t get there fast enough, accidentally bumping into the wall and muttering a hushed “sorry” to it.

He arrived. The door was almost too heavy, or maybe it was just the fear making his limbs heavy as lead.

There you lay, and it was worse than he thought.  Tubes of all sorts trailed from your body to things around the bed, crowding and seeming to close you in. Scratches ran down your cheek and there was dried blood on your hairline, streaking down your face. The breath fell from his throat and he stood in the doorway, paralyzed. 

This could not be happening. 

One look and he could tell you weren’t going to be okay. An IV drip led into your left arm, and you were unconscious, so fragile, so angelic. It looked as if you were only sleeping, like the countless times you’d snuggled into Suga’s shoulder in the warm summer nights, staring at the blanket of glittering stars far above. The ones in your eyes, though, outshone them all. 

When you slept, you always seemed so peaceful, so comforted, but now your brow was slightly furrowed, your lips drained of color and slightly parted. Even in this state, you were still the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

Shakily, he made his way to the chair and sat down in it. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry, and tears were dripping down his face before he could wipe them away. A choked sob escaped him as he reached out his hand, hovering over your limp one. 

He took your hand, and he hunched over to feel how cold it was. Your hands were always colder than his, which made him a perfect match for you. Never before, though, had he felt this ice. 

Suga’s shoulders began to shake, and he clutched your hand, silently begging you not to leave, please please please don’t leave me, i don’t know if i can survive without you. Of course, there was no response but the steady beep of the heart monitor, the only thing reassuring him that you were still there. 

Shaking, he brought your hand to his lips, barely brushing them against your knuckles. 

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” Whispered words fell gently from his lips, trying to stay composed for you. “Please stay with me. Please don’t leave.” His tone rises, voice breaking in desperation. “P-please.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He rocked back and forth, holding your hand as if it was the only thing tying him down. “I-I love you.”

There. He said it, those three words he’d wanted to say since the day he saw you smile for the first time. Hopelessly, madly, endlessly in love with you, only you. 

When you didn’t respond, he let himself sob, let the pain overtake him. Hot, salty tears spilled onto your hand, and he silently wished for a sign, a movement, anything to show that you weren’t gone just yet.

In that moment, he whispered everything he wanted to say to you, a thousand words choking him and clogging his throat to the point where he couldn’t breathe anymore.

The doctor came in, shutting the door silently behind him. “Sugawara-”

“Call me Suga.” His voice was quiet, reserved, threatening to break.

“I’m afraid y/n isn’t going to make it.” The doctor sighed, mercifully pretending not to notice Suga’s muffled cry. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“You’re joking, right?” Suga raised his head, puffy, red eyes desperate. “Please- tell me you’re joking.” The silence from the doctor told him otherwise, and Suga felt his heart shatter in that instant.

He squeezed your hand, and just as he did, the heart monitor stopped beeping, a flat tone emitting from it. He couldn’t stop the heartbroken cry from spilling from his mouth, his breath stolen by the endless constriction of guilt and grief in his chest. 

He stayed there for another two hours, crying over your hand limp in his grasp. When Daichi arrived at the hospital to drive him home, he didn’t want to leave. 

Suga stared out of the car window, numb. It was impossible- the world couldn’t be this cruel. 

It’s your fault, your fault, your fault, the voice in his head whispered. The broken sobs that spilled out of him hurt, stabbed at his breathing, but he didn’t care. It was his fault that you were gone, forever. 

The rest of the day passed in a haze, the sun setting with flared colors that you would have loved. The stars were brilliant, but Suga couldn’t look at them. His pillow smelled like you, and everywhere he looked had some imprint, some memory of you. You were the only person he’d ever love, and you had been stolen from the world in an instant.

In the months afterwards, nothing was the same. He saw you everywhere, expecting to see your texts pop up on his phone, accidentally ordered your drink at the boba place you would always go to. 

At the funeral, his stiff black suit seemed awkward, but you always said he looked handsome in one. That was the last time he got to see your face besides pictures, the fading memory of the person who loved him for who he was.

the person who he would love for the rest of his life.

you’re an angel in my eyes.

a/n: tbh this is probably one of the most painful things i’ve written so far suga im so sorry also THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 50 FOLLOWERS ITS CRAZY i finished this at 2am i’m going to be so sad if it flops <\3

[kikis-writing-world]

Flags and Labels

Part of Writer Wednesday by @flightlessangelwings​ & @autumnleaves1991-blog

Pairing: Modern AU, pan!Din Djarin x Bi!Reader (GN, no pronouns, no Y/N)

Word Count: >2k

Rating/Warnings: Mentions of a religious upbringing and trauma from that past. Essentially Din grew up in “The Children of the Watch” and was very sheltered, but is now exploring the real world. If I’m missing anything else I should tag in this vein, please let me know.

pride  /  “Kiss me again, like you mean it.”

You smiled brightly at Din as he gazed around, a look of wonder on his face. The street was alive with colour. Walls, windows, fences, parking meters: Everywhere you looked were multicoloured flags of every kind, representing the various people taking to the streets to celebrate their freedom to be who they are. The people themselves in the streets were just as colourful. They sported flags and bright colours and all kinds of eccentric accessories, showcasing who they’re proud to be. The joy in the air was palpable, contagious even.

You had been friends with Din for nearly two years now, the two of you having met at the local library. He always took out such interesting books on a variety of subjects, both fiction and non-fiction, and shortly after becoming acquainted with him you found out why. He had grown up in a very strict religious sect - some would go so far to describe them as a cult - and had been sheltered from many things until his early adulthood. When he became comfortable with you, he had just as many questions for you about the “real world” as you had about his past.

One topic that had come up as you two talked about Din’s past was his sexuality. He had known from a young age that something was different. His religion had been strict about heterosexual couples being the only way, shunning all other types of love. You happily helped him find books and resources he could look into, to further explore his feelings. You also opened up, sharing your own personal journey and experiences as you came to terms with your bisexuality.

When you suggested taking Din to this year’s pride, he was both nervous and excited. He still wasn’t a fan of large crowds, a side effect of his upbringing. He also didn’t know what to expect when he got there. With some research and reassurance from you that you wouldn’t leave his side, he agreed. You were so glad he did now that you were watching him take it all in. 

“All these people…” Din trailed off, losing his voice.

“They all support love.” You finished the thought. “Regardless of labels, they all just wanna be who they are, love who they want. There’s always some protesters, but whatever, don’t pay them any mind. We outnumber them.” You chuckled.

“I had no idea this was out here, all this time.” He breathed.

You had to bite your lip to keep your own emotions in check. The look of awe, the unshed tears in his eyes. You felt drawn to the sweet, quiet man like a moth to a flame. You’d been falling for him for months, the embers of your crush only stoked when he opened up about his sexuality and yes, you were in his spectrum. The glimmer of hope that he might be attracted to you dangled in front of you like a feathered cat toy… but you just couldn’t risk it. He had opened up to you, come to you for guidance and a shoulder to cry on. You felt guilty taking that away from him if you pushed that line too far. You’d crush on him silently while remaining a pillar of support.

“C’mon,” you wrapped your hand around his forearm - a safer place than taking his hand or feeling the enticing muscle hidden under the sleeve of his t-shirt - “let’s dive in.”

You watched Din carefully as you two walked the streets and took in all the sights. You wanted to know if he was getting overwhelmed or uncomfortable, but he took it all in stride. He had lots of questions about the performing drag queens, and not all that you could answer yourself. You laughed heartily at the look on his face when one queen draped her boa over his shoulders with a shimmy. 

There were people doing tarot readings, which while he seemed intrigued about, didn’t want to miss anything else by waiting in the long line. You shared a rainbow coloured ice cream sundae which turned your tongue different colours as you went, both of you laughing as you stuck your tongue out periodically - you forced yourself not to think about how the flavors would taste on his tongue every time it came out a different colour.

You made a point to stop at some information booths for local groups, picking up flyers for Din to look over later. Sports teams, choirs, friendship/support groups; Din was absolutely shocked to find there were arms of religion that not only accepted but supported LGBTQ+ rights. You knew he was struggling with reconciling his religious teachings with the “real world” and thought maybe these groups might be able to help navigate it more than you could with your limited experience.

A face painting booth caught your eye and you dragged Din over, not that he was putting up much of a fight. There were a few people doing the face painting, some clearly artists who would do a full-face of whatever you requested, but also there were some that were simply painting pride flags on cheeks for the price of a donation to a local queer youth shelter.

You and Din looked over the board they had set up of different flags, all that you had seen throughout the day as you explored.

Dropping some money into the bucket, you sat on the stool and asked for a bisexuality flag. Din stood by and watched as the artist painted. You kept quiet, not wanting to cause them to mess up.

“Well? What do you think?” You prompted when they were done.

“It looks nice.” Din nodded.

“Did you want one too?” The artist asked, looking Din’s way.

You looked over to Din, smiling as you waited for him to answer. As comfortable as he’d grown in your time walking around and meeting new people, you didn’t know if he was ready to wear anything pride related. It was his call, but you looked as encouraging as you could.

“Um, can I get this one?” He asked, pointing at the Pansexuality flag. Your heart soared for him. It wasn’t exactly a declaration of finding the right label, but feeling comfortable enough to display the flag on his cheek was definitely progress.

“Of course!” They answered, gesturing for Din to sit in the stool as they got the right colours ready. As he sat, you gave his shoulder a squeeze. He looked up at you with a soft smile, eyes shining with excitement.

“Have you ever had your face painted before?” You questioned, realizing that it probably wasn’t the kind of thing he’d grown up with.

“I don’t think so.” He shrugged.

“Oh, it’s been a while since I had a virgin.” The artist teased with a wink, making you laugh as Din blushed bright red. You ran your hand across his shoulders to soothe him through the embarrassment, although all it did was make your own face flush as you felt the firm muscles twitch under his shirt.

“All done!” It took the artist only a few moments to swipe the three colours evenly along his cheek. They lifted a handheld mirror so Din could see for himself. He nodded his approval with a quiet thanks, adding some more money into the collection bucket.

“C’mere, let’s get into the sun for a picture!” You suggested as you skipped ahead of him. He followed, grinning at your excitement as you found the perfect spot and opened up your camera.

He leaned over you, head nearly resting on your shoulder as you started snapping selfies. Happy ones, goofy ones, serious ones. Your thumb automatically tapped every few seconds as the two of you made different faces. When Din pressed his lips to your cheek, the picture captured every ounce of surprise you felt.

“Thanks for bringing me here.” Din smiled as you tucked your phone away, trying to hide your burning face.

“Y-yeah. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” You stuttered, picking at some non-existent lint on your shirt.

“Did I do something wrong?” The flatness in Din’s voice made your head shoot up. He was frowning, the excitement of the day all but vanished from his expression.

“No. W-W-Why… Why would you think that?” You shook your head, internally cursing yourself for the reaction you had to a simple, friendly kiss.

“I kissed you, and you…” He trailed off, gesturing at you in lieu of verbalizing his thoughts. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, Din. Don’t apologize-”

“I’ve been trying to tell you for a while now-”

The two of you began speaking at once, only to both pause when you realized the other was talking.

“Trying to tell me what?” You asked, feeling that familiar heat rising up your neck into your cheeks.

“I… I like you… more than just friends…” Din admitted, looking down and kicking at a rock on the ground. “I guess today just… made me feel… brave.”

“Really?” You squeaked, voice malfunctioning as you fought to keep your body under control. You wanted to jump, sing, cartwheel, hell you would fly if you had the ability.

“You don’t have to like me back. I don’t want it to change anything.” Din continued, still focussed on the rock.

You tucked your hand under his chin, forcing him to look up and see with his own eyes how you felt about his confession. His eyes widened a fraction when he took in the wide smile you wore ear to ear.

“I definitely like you back.” You confirmed. “And you are one of the bravest people I know.”

A sigh of relief gave way to a matching smile on Din’s face, the two of you smiling at each other widely, neither sure what to say next.

“Din?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me again, like you mean it.”

The only regret the two of you held from your first real kiss was the smudged flags on your cheeks.

Tagging @wickedfrsgrl​ @din-damn-djarin​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @kesskirata​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @vonschweetz​ @insideafictionaluniverse​ @driedgreentomatoes​ @computeringturtle​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​

[mysterytickingegos]

Ouija Board

Pairing: Ghost!Blank x Reader (Ambiguous)

Genre: Paranormal

Word Count: 1,512

Summary: Sequel to Blank’s Winter Ficlet. After months of Blank poking at your sanity out of boredom, you bring your friends home to get their help, and someone brings a Ouija board into the mix. The day ends with you being left with more questions than answers. (There will probably be another part to this later.)

Anonymous Request: 1. Blankgameplays 2. she/her 3. Platonic/ambiguous 4. Fluff (meet cute, like Blanky Boi is 'haunting' {would you call it haunting? is he even a ghost?} reader's house) Prompt: 63 - Reader: “I don’t believe in ghosts.” Blank: *about to ruin this mans whole career* Please and thank you with extra sprinkles on top ♥ ☆ﾟ.*♥･｡ﾟ♥

Authors Note: First off, to get it out of the way, I was originally using a gif from the tumblr search option, and I removed it when asked. Even though I’ve done so, I can’t remove the reply because they blocked me before I even saw the notification. The gif you should be seeing (if it matches the image description) is one I made myself. Now, onto the important stuff- Oh my god, it is about time I got this done! I’m so sorry it took this long for me to get to it! If it helps in any way I finished this fic with idea’s on continuing it later so...you’ll probably be getting more out of your request than most!

Want to Read More?

[Image Description: A gif of Ethan (Crankgameplays) edited to be spooky with multicolored layers. He leans towards the camera and speaks ominously.]

You’d started out with nerves of steel.

Ghosts weren’t real. You knew that.

It’s an old house, and you have an overactive imagination. That’s what you told yourself, over and over again, even once it stopped making sense. But there’s only so many times you can catch things moving on their own, or you could hear that distant voice, before you started to get a little tense. So when you finally hit your limit, you turned to your friends, bringing them to the house in the hopes that they could confirm what you’d been seeing. Or not.

“Okay, before we go in, here’s the plan. We don’t talk about it.” You started, keeping Vi and Eric on the stairs. “Because I think if it knows that I told you about it, it won’t do anything. Like, try to make me look crazy.”

“You do look a little crazy right now.” Violet quipped, nudging you further up the stairs. “Come on, we get it. Act normal, pay attention, let’s get ghost hunting.”

“Ugh, please don’t call it that.” You unlocked the front door, stepping in with your friends following right behind you.

You tossed your keys onto the counter, and the sudden noise was all it took to make Eric yelp. You and Violet both turned to look at him, seeing him cover his face with his hand. “Sorry...”

You sighed, already close to giving up on this plan. You were pretty sure the so-called ghost didn’t even have to do anything. Eric was so nervous and Violet was so excited about this whole thing that they’d probably make up their own ghost story by the time you finished painting the office.

But you trudged forward, bringing them upstairs and getting to work.

You dug your speaker out of the closet, putting some decent music on and leaving it in the corner of the room. Eric pried the paint can open and Violet started lining the room with painting tape. For the first time in a long time, you were all stuck in an uncomfortable silence. waiting for something to happen.

But the day went off without a hitch. It was late in the evening when you finished painting the walls and your friends got ready to leave. “You know, if this was your way of trying to get free labor out of us, fair play to you.” Vi joked, slinging her bag over her shoulders at the door. “But honestly, I’m kind of bummed.”

You shook your head. “I swear I wasn’t, guys. I’m sorry. God, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Eric came up behind you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey it’s alright, you can- well I mean if you want you can stay with us for-”

Before he could finish, he was interrupted by a small thud and a clattering sound coming from the room right above you, the office. All three of you looked up at the ceiling, then at each other, before making a quick pace back upstairs. You flicked the light back on to see that the half-empty bucket of paint you’d left was now on it’s side, and the color of the floor now matched the walls.

“...Dude, this thing is an asshole.” Vi said bluntly, earning a quiet plea from Eric not to make it mad.

“I knew it! I told you! There’s no way this shit just happens, right?” Despite the fact your floor was ruined, you couldn’t help but get excited. “I mean it’s ridiculous but this happens all the time.”

“Okay, this is going to get even cooler, beeecause...” Vi grinned, pulling her bag back around and digging through it until she found what she was looking for, something wrapped in a beige cloth. “Guess what I brought.”

You watched her unwrap what turned out to be a planchette, which had been wrapped in what turned out to be a cloth Ouija board. Eric coughed nervously, taking a small step back towards the stairs, “I actually uh..I can’t stay, I sort of have a-a doctors appointment! Yeah, that. That’s what I have to get to.”

“It’s seven at night.”

“Yeah, um...it’s therapy. You know, they stay open late and...yeah.” And with that Eric excused himself from any further ‘ghost hunting,’ fleeing out the front door. Before you could also object to the idea of talking to the ghost, Vi grabbed your hand and pulled you along to the living room.

“Do you have any candles?” She asked, kneeling down on the floor and spreading out the Ouija board.

“I have a couple scented candles we could light, I guess...” You shrugged and went around collecting them. You started to say something more but stopped to rethink it. This was ridiculous. Lighting candles for a ouijia board? Acknowledging any of this ghost nonsense felt silly enough to you, just a couple months ago stuff like this was all a big joke to you. But what other explanation could there be for everything you had experienced? Maybe you should have done a bit more research, set up a camera or-

“Y/n?” Vi called out from the floor, pulling you out of your thoughts.

Swallowing your pride, you brought the candles and a matchbox over and kneeled across from her. “So since when are you interested in all this, anyway?”

“What, ghosts and stuff?” She stayed quiet for a moment as she helped you set the candles up on either side of the two of you. “I dunno, I guess I’m just starting to notice that maybe...things aren’t as they seem. Kind of like you. But I actually find it fun. So, are you ready to do this?”

You nodded. “I guess so...” Placing your fingers on the planchette, you took a deep breathe before you started. “Hello?”

“Hello? That’s all you’ve got?”

“Shush.”

“I’m just saying, maybe-” “It’s my house that’s haunted so-”

HELLO

You both fell silent again, glancing up at each other. She looked like she might explode from excitement and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. Then, you kept going. “My name is Y/n, this is my friend Violet.”

I  K N O W

“What’s your name?”

The planchette began to move again, but this time rather than settle on any letters or even move towards ‘No,’ it moved to a blank patch of the cloth.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you waited for any movement, but it didn’t come. “Do you have a name?”

D O  N O T  R E M E M B E R

‘Oh.’ You felt a pang in your heart at that.

Vi pouted a little, her head tilting to the side. She was the next to ask something. “What are you?”

G H O S T

“Alright-”

M A Y B E

“...Maybe?”

D O  N O T  R E M E M B E R

Chills ran down your spine. That was not a comforting thought. “Is there anything else in the house with us?”

NO

“You’ve really been scaring my friend, you know.” Vi said, looking cautiously around the room as she spoke.

I  K N O W

It took everything you had to keep your shaking hands on the planchette. “Do you want me to leave?”

Nothing happened. You waited, your heart pounding out of your chest. The sun had officially set, making the house pitch black aside from your little pocket of candlelight. You could almost make out a shadow over the board, it’s source seemingly coming from behind you. You didn’t dare mention it. “Do you want to be alone here again? Because I’d understand that.”

Even more dead silence.

Violet let out a sharp sigh, taking one hand off the planchette, despite your objection, to rub her temple. “Are you still there?”

YES

“I just want to understand why you’re doing this.” You said, much quieter than you meant.

S O R R Y

“You’re sorry?”

S T A Y

“But...what?”

You and Violet sat there for another thirty minutes, asking questions and waiting for answers that never came. The spirit was apparently done talking. “Alright, well...” Violet stood up, putting her bag back on.

“What? Wait, I don’t get any of this. What do I do?” You began to panic, not entirely sure if you should be leaving the board yet.

“You can have the board, keep trying tomorrow, I don’t know. Look-” Her tone was coming off uncharacteristically harsh now, as she avoided your eyes. “My head is splitting, think it’s all the candle fumes. I’m gonna breeze off, good luck though.”

You squinted at the door when it hit you what she said. "Breeze off?” Shaking it off, you turned your attention back to your unusual roommate. “Okay, I’m going to call it a night I guess. I have paint to clean up so,” You moved the planchette to ‘Goodbye,’ taking your hands off and being seconds away from blowing out the candles when it moved all on it’s own.

G O O D N I G H T

[okaybutlikeimagine]

Harringrove for Australia: okayshitbird

hi there everyone! ♥ the amazingly magnificent and so insanely sweet @okayshitbird​ requested this fic from me for #HarringroveforAustralia! for anyone thinking “wow you’re incredibly late with this”... you’d be right! but I tried and it’s finished now and isn’t that all that matters?? ~♥

prompt: Billy has to meet Steve’s parents, w/ fluff and enough angst to make the fluff hit hard

tags: mentions of non-graphic sex after the fact (I don’t know how else to tag that 😬), humor, fluff, angst, romance, Dumb Boys TM

You can catch it at AO3 right here  if you want!

Word Count: 18,910 (way over word limit you say?? sorry can’t hear you, woops...)

thanks hun, and thanks again to @tracy7307 for being SUCH an amazing doll and putting HfA together for all of us!!

alright i’m gonna go pretend like I have the attention span to deal with my responsibilities, bye babes.

Stay safe! ♥

-----

More Than a Crush

It’s a gorgeously warm summer evening. The chirping of the evening birds mixes with the hum of the bugs creating a far more pleasant chorus than anyone could ever expect, especially someone from a place so different than this. The sound of the world outside is what Billy thinks the sun would sound like. The feeling around him is what he thinks happiness feels like. True happiness. The pure feeling of being content. There’s a short list of things in Billy’s life that have ever felt as gorgeous as this moment.

He’s really not sure why Steve insists on ruining it.

“My parents want to meet you.”

It’s Steve’s voice, saying it plainly, as if he’s talking about the weather. There’s immediate silence, Billy’s fingers digging into the warm-to-the-touch flesh of Steve’s arms as he’s holding him.

“Excuse me?” Billy asks, Steve’s statement hitting Billy sharp in his chest because what the fuck.

“My parents-”

“It’s been a good day, right?” Billy cuts in, because he’s not sure he can hear that again and stay calm. “We’re having a good time?”

They pause again. Steve just blinks from his position on Billy’s chest.

“Yes?” There’s obvious trepidation in Steve’s voice. “Are you having a good-?”

Billy cuts him off. He’s antsy.

“We got lunch, we smoked a little bit, we watched those birds… we fucked. Twice.”

Steve rolls his eyes like he’s trying to make a point of the action, but nothing hides the smirk on his face.

“It’s been a good day.” Billy says again.

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “It’s been a good-”

“So why are you screwing it up?”

Steve’s face pulls into something that looks appalled, rearing back to punch Billy’s shoulder lightly.

“Shut up!” Steve is indignant. “I’m not screwing with anything!”

Steve’s face is so genuinely irritated that Billy feels like the one screwing things up right now, and he definitely doesn’t appreciate the feeling.

“You should be screwing me-” Billy says with notes of resentment he’s sure he’d never be able to hide.

Steve shoves at Billy’s shoulder again before leaning down to bite lightly at it. Billy squirms involuntarily at the feeling, his body running a bit hot at the feel of Steve’s teeth. It always does that.

“Yeah yeah, shut up.” Steve mumbles against Billy’s shoulder, soft lips grazing the tanned skin as he flops his head down on the pillow next to Billy. “Look, I’m just saying, my parents told me they wanted to meet you.”

“Why do your parents even know about me?” Billy’s voice is a lot softer now as Steve traces little circles around his chest. It’s not voluntary. It’s those damn doe eyes and those damn soft touches that knead his heart into something more malleable; something more gentle.

It lasts for about a second, because he has to slap the hand of his stupid boyfriend who decides he wants to start pulling at Billy’s curly chest hair. Steve chuckles.

“Because I tell them about you.”

Billy sighs. “That’s my question, dipshit. Why are you telling them about me?”

Steve props himself back up on his elbows. His eyes are earnest. It feels like Steve’s hands have reached into Billy’s chest to play with his heart instead. Billy doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to someone looking at him with so much… care in their eyes. So much admiring love. It’s so much that Billy couldn’t even put a finger on what it was for months. He just felt this gut feeling bubbling up in him, even lashed out the first few times out of confusion, but now it just makes him feel weak at the knees. Weak all over. Billy’s not used to feeling weak.

But here he is, falling into that now-familiar weakness as he looks into Steve’s eyes that search him like he’s Paradise. Like he’s got all the answers within him.

“Because…” Steve starts again, voice silky smooth and hitting Billy’s heart all over again. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

It’s… earnest.

So earnest it makes Billy sick to his stomach.

Billy lightly slaps the top of Steve’s head.

“Shut up, Bambi.” Billy can’t find an ounce of malice to inject into his voice, but it’s not for lack of trying. He hates all this mushy stuff. At least… he wants to hate it. “You’re gonna ruin everything.”

“Am not! My parents always meet my friends.”

“I-th…” Billy pauses. “They do?”

Steve nods. “They’ve known Tommy since we were toddlers and they met Carol a few years ago.”

Billy must get some kind of wistful look in his eye- on his face -because Steve nips it real quick.

“It’s not as sweet as you might think.” Steve pipes in quickly, groaning a bit as he lays his forehead on Billy’s chest. “They do it for their… reputation or whatever. They just wanna make sure you’re not ruining my image. They probably hear shit from their friends.”

“Am I ruining your image, babe?” Billy asks, holding the sides of Steve’s head gingerly to pull him up towards his face. He runs his tongue along the shell of Steve’s ear, revelling in the breath released before he twists his tongue around to stick it at least somewhere near the inside of Steve’s ear.

Hey, Billy’s the first to admit he’s a brat.

He gets pushed away, a disgusted sound coming from the boy on top of him. Billy chuckles, liking the feeling of Steve’s weight on top of him as his chest vibrates from his laughs.

“Cut it out!” Steve groans, scooting away minutely. “You’re not ruining anything. They’re just stupid. And they wanna meet you.”

“Okay, well…” Billy’s not sure what else there is to say. He finds no other words fit in his mouth. He gives in. “Okay.”

The air between them turns still and Billy watches Steve’s shoulders stiffen as he looks up, eyes impossibly wide.

“Okay?” There’s so much hope in his voice.

Billy sighs, his chest tight from more than just Steve laying on him. He’s being constricted by every expectation, but he’s not moving any time soon. There’s no way he’s moving away from Steve.

Billy nods.

“Yeah, okay. If your parents wanna meet me… fine. Alright.”

And now the pressure in Billy’s chest is mostly Steve, who has decided to squeeze the life out of Billy in a crushing hug.

If the sound that comes out of Billy could be labelled as a “squeak” or even “unmanly”, he would never in his life admit to it.

“Alright, alright!” He shoves at Steve’s shoulder until the boy lets up. “What are we gonna do? Dinner at the Harringtons? Do I need to wear my slacks?”

Billy wiggles playfully under Steve and winks at him for good measure. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Uh… not exactly.”

It’s not what Billy expected to hear. His heart skips with nerves.

“Well, what are we doing?” Billy couldn’t explain the racing of his heart if he tried. “Your dad doesn’t seem like the type to take me hunting to protect your honor.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, no… uh…. Well…”

“Well what? Spit it out, Bambi.”

Steve bites his lip and it takes all of Billy not to get distracted so he can hear Steve say: “We’re gonna need to go shopping.”

~~*~~

Billy hates shopping.

He hates the bright signs, he hates the fake smiles… he hates capitalism. Really, there’s nothing redeeming about going shopping. Not even Steve Harrington can help his hatred of shopping.

“Billy...” Steve sounds like he’s about to chastise Billy and it’s really not helping.

“Shut up.” Billy hisses, near snapping, but he holds himself back enough to take a breath. “Why do we have to be here? Why can’t I just borrow something?”

“Because you’ve already ripped enough of my clothes trying to fit into them.” Steve says, face blank as he turns to walk into the Polo store. Billy’s mad about it, but he follows after a few steps.

“It’s not that bad.” Billy mumbles, sauntering as much as he can until he walks through the doors and effectively feels himself shrink down. He hates the Polo store. He’s come here a couple of times before, only with Steve. His family isn’t rich enough for this and, truthfully, he can’t imagine going anywhere that would warrant these clothes anyway. All these pastels and collared short sleeves… it’s semi-idiotic to Billy. Not to mention those stupid little shorts…

And… yeah, don’t get him wrong, Steve looks great in all of this stuff. There’s nothing like Steve’s ass in some preppy pants, sure, but that doesn’t mean Billy has to wear them just to appreciate them.

“What about this?” Steve asks, pointing out a baby blue shirt that makes Billy gag.

“Are you kidding?”

“I think it’d bring out your eyes!” Steve says, sifting through the sizes. Billy can’t think of a single thing to do with himself except stand there and watch his preppy boyfriend sort through preppy clothes to dress him in like a doll.

“I think it looks like I’m going to brunch on my parent’s yacht.” Billy pulls a face as Steve chuckles, with some kind of pity.

“That’s kind of what we’re going for, here, babe.” Steve says, keeping hold of the shirt as he searches for more colors. Or something. Billy’s really just being pushed by the wind, here.

And he wants to throw more of a fit. He kind of wants to be a brat about it. He wants to be that little kid inside of him that’s kicking and screaming to leave because he feels uncomfortable and out of place and exhausted… but…

But he knows he can’t because this actually means something. This is meeting Steve’s family for the first time and yeah, they’re not telling them about their relationship or anything, but it’s still important to get this right. He doesn’t wanna give Steve any grief because his parents think Billy is an asshole, and he definitely doesn’t want to have to hide in public any more than they already do. They hide enough, he doesn’t want it getting worse.

It’s just…

“It looks like the Easter Bunny ralphed in here.”

“You’re not wrong.” Steve says on a chuckle before shoving a few shirts into Billy’s chest. “Alright, try these on.”

Billy pulls a face.

“Uh… real funny, princess, but no.”

Billy has only admitted it out loud a handful of times, but Steve looks cute when he gets all defiant like that with his hands on his hips.

“You’re trying them on.” Steve orders. Billy won’t lie, it gets him a little hot watching Steve order him around. “You’re not going to this with a ripped shirt.”

“Like you wouldn’t love that.” Billy says on a scoff, but his voice is quiet. The more he talks back the more sour it tastes on his tongue.

“You know I’d love to rip them off you myself but you have to-”

“I don’t want to go into that stuffy dressing room.” Billy raises his voice. He’s pouting like El. Like a brat. He feels it on his lips without even thinking about it but honestly, he’s not sure how he can be rightly blamed for this. He’s so deeply uncomfortable that he’s slipped into default mode, which happens to coincide with “bratty mode”. So sue him.

Steve’s eyebrows are knitted with irritation. He looks like he wants to do more than just sue him.

“Look,” Steve starts darkly, hitting Billy with a look that immediately shuts him up. “You’re talking to the guy who went through a major growth spurt the same summer that his mother decided she needed to go to every stupid country club function. I was in that stuffy dressing room every week. You can handle like, one hour.”

Billy doesn’t want to say he feels sheepish… but he’s feeling pretty sheepish. He watches Steve pant a little bit from the energy he’s exerted. It’s kind of cute, even though Billy’s heart feels sore for having to be told off.

Because he knows this means a lot. Steve knows this is killing Billy and he wouldn’t make Billy sit through something so draining if it didn’t mean a lot and… and Billy’s been kind of an asshole. He’ll be the first to admit… he’s the only one allowed to admit, thank you… and…

Billy shrinks about 3 sizes. He eyes Steve through thick lashes.

“One hour?” He asks, voice small. Steve is the only one to ever get him this way.

Steve gives a hopeful smile and nods, holding the shirts out yet again. He looks triumphant. Billy lets it slide.

“That’s about as long as I wanna be here, too.” Steve admits, raising an eyebrow to get Billy to accept the shirts.

He does with a sigh.

Billy heads into the dressing room with an irritated flair, aiming for melodrama. He’s standing in the dressing room and feels physically pained every time he puts on a new pastel polo. Which isn’t to say he’s unable to pull off these looks, because he can wear a garbage bag and still be one of the most fuckable people in Hawkins, it’s just… all this pastel and these stupid collared shirts. If anyone were to see him like this, he’d have to beat them up. There’d be no option.

He purposefully ignores the tags, knowing Steve is going to insist on buying everything no matter what he says. He still remembers the time that Steve insisted on buying Billy a new pair of fancy shoes, saying he had just been given some “emergency money” that actually equated to “you just caught your dad cheating for the 3rd time this year, please don’t talk about it to anyone” money before his parents left for yet another extravagant business trip.

Billy felt some kind of pride in “taking money” from an asshole like that.

Now Billy is going to have to meet that asshole...

But still, he doesn’t like money being spent on him. It always leaves a weird type of pain in his chest, knowing he can’t reciprocate all these gifts to his boyfriend who very clearly is acquainted with the finer things of life. He can’t spoil Steve as much as he wants to. Not that he’d ever in his life admit to wanting to… but still. He knows. He knows how badly he wants to give the world to Steve and how incapable of doing so he is, but that doesn’t change a whole lot. Steve seems happy with what they have.

But will he always be?

“Billy! How long does it take to put a shirt on?”

Billy jumps, stepping out of the dressing room with a scowl on his face that looks far more like a pout.

“You look so good!” Steve nearly coos and Billy is about to throw something at him.

“Shut up.” His face burns and if he’s blushing he’ll punch someone for pointing it out.

And as Billy tries on the handful of shirts that Steve shoved his way, he starts to feel like he’s in some kind of cheesy movie montage. He pouts his way through it, walking out each time and giving his best unimpressed look, spinning when Steve tells him to spin before going back in to change his shirt.

He walks out in a particularly vomit-inducing polo with pale pink and blue horizontal stripes, spinning slowly with his arms out at his sides, before turning quickly to look over his shoulder with a single eyebrow raised. He figures hamming it up is the best way to give himself some entertainment.

Steve laughs.

“You’re a stunner!”

Billy winks in response and saunters back into the dressing room, turning around to face Steve, still eyeing him sexily before saying: “I hate them all.” and closing the curtain with a swish.

And if he smirks at the loud, frustrated groan Steve gives… well he wouldn’t necessarily call it sadistic...

They take another walk through the store, and Billy refuses to drag his feet. He may hate it here but he’s not a child, thank you.

Then, the unthinkable happens: something catches his eye. In a good way.

“These.”

Steve seems eager to see what Billy’s talking about, turning quickly. His face cracks into a smile before it’s replaced by a (probably forced) scowl, because there’s no fooling Billy. He knows the boy was about to laugh.

“No… no Billy.”

“Yes.”

“Billy they… they have skulls on them.”

They do. They’re a bright, almost Pepto-Bismol looking pink with tiny skull-and-crossbone images embroidered on them. They kind of make Billy’s stomach ache because of how heinous they are but they’re also the best things Billy has seen in this hell of a store and he thinks they match his own “image”, so… he’ll take them.

“You bet babe.” Billy adds a wink for good measure, picking up the shorts in a couple of sizes before sauntering over to the dressing room. “It’s this or I’m going in just a jockstrap. You know I mean it.”

Steve takes a breath, makes like he’s gonna speak, but Billy turns and gives him a look that lets him know that whatever he’s about to say isn’t going to effectively reach Billy’s ears.

Steve sighs, but there’s a laugh on his lips and its twin can be found in his eyes. That’s one of Billy’s favorite things about this stupidly good looking boy.

When Billy gets to the dressing room, two shirts are being thrown in after him.

“You have to wear a shirt.”

Billy sticks his tongue out.

Steve leans forward to steal a kiss, lightly and playfully biting Billy’s tongue before separating and closing the curtain.

Billy’s mind feels so fuzzy, he barely registers the clothes he’s putting on.

~~*~~

The day has finally come and never in his life has Billy felt like this much of a dork.

Something about this really does feel like torture. Even though he knows that right now he’s only surrounded by people who love him wholeheartedly, this still feels like a form of sadism. Billy suddenly thinks he might understand what those little toy poodles go through.

Because right now everyone is… cooing at him. Joyce has stood Billy in the hallway (where Jonathan said the lighting is probably best) and is currently attempting to work Jonathan’s camera to take pictures. Jonathan is right next to her, trying to show her the buttons to press and where to look when she wants to take a picture. Jim is standing behind them, deep chuckles clearly bubbling up in his chest and a smirk he can’t keep hidden smeared all over his face. Every now and then he makes eye contact with Billy and tries a little harder to keep his laughter down. Billy tries to find something to appreciate about it.

El is bouncing around in the back, giggling and pulling Will over to whisper to him. Will just shrugs, face red and laughter hidden in the corners of his smile. Billy knows he can’t get mad at them.

Jonathan though…

“Oh here, you just take it, honey.” Joyce concedes, handing the camera back over to her son with exasperation in her voice. Jonathan scrambles for the camera, hanging it around his neck before turning to Billy with a smirk on his face- a smirk that says: you’re never living this down. It’s in his raised eyebrow and all.

Billy’s gonna kill the boy.

“Say cheese.” Jonathan says with the smarmiest grin possible.

“I’ll kill you.” Billy says through gritted teeth, keeping his tone as sweet as possible. Jonathan laughs before taking the shot.

“Okay, okay, now I think we should get one over here!” Joyce is bouncing, tapping Jonathan’s shoulder excitedly. “The wallpaper is nice over here.”

Jonathan is cackling now, mixing with the low rumbles of Hop’s laughter as they walk down the hallway. Will and El move out of the way, heading to the kitchen for something.

Billy’s teeth are still clenched tight.

“I’d really rather not.” Billy says with as little anger in his voice as he can muster.

“I know, I’m sorry, dear, just a few more pictures! It’s just, I have pictures of all the other kids all dressed up and you look so nice!” Joyce brings a hand up to replace a curl that’s slipped out of where Billy has attempted to grease them back. Everything she does is so maternal- it all has such a loving touch that it softens Billy instantly. “Just a couple more pictures? Is that okay, honey?”

It’s just them in the hallway now, the chatter of the other people in the house sounding distant enough that the irritation in Billy’s chest simmers down to just about nothing. It’s just him and this woman who somehow always makes him think about the good memories of his mother. Not even the tangible ones, but rather the fuzzy ones that crop up more as feelings than as pictures. It’s something he’s not sure he knows how to truly appreciate. It’s something he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to again. It’s warm. It makes this whole place seem a little more like home.

It also makes it a lot harder to say no.

Because there Joyce is, looking at him like he’s one of her children. Like he’s her son all dressed up for picture day. He’s not fully sure what to do with himself. Especially because she’s asking his permission. So few authority figures ever do that.

He sighs.

“Alright.” He says, giving her a tired smile when her eyes light up at his response.

He follows after her into the living room, exhausted just from existing in these stupid clothes, having to look at all of these stupid smiles laughing at him like he’s a clown. He feels like a clown.

They’d probably insist it’s out of love and care. He’d definitely beg to differ.

But he’s still standing there, chin tilted up and hands clasped behind his back, doing his best to puff his chest and broaden his shoulders to look as manly as possible… even though he’s dressed like a damn Easter egg.

“C’mon, son, give us a smile!” It’s Hop, humor dancing in his eyes. “Let us see those teeth!”

Billy’s teeth are still gritted, mirth and pain definitely visible in his eyes.

“I swear to God.” He mutters under his breath before allowing the corners of his mouth to tilt up into a smile.

“C’mon a little wider.” Jonathan says through a smirk.

“Just take the picture.” Billy says through his smile, followed by the click of the camera.

Joyce fusses for a bit, moving over to the wall where all the kids have their pictures hung and trying to figure out the best place for Billy’s to go when Jonathan eventually produces it. Jonathan, still with that amused smirk on his face, wanders over to Billy.

“Hope you know how blackmail worthy these are.” Jonathan says with a glint in his eye. Billy makes sure to shoot daggers back.

“You better sleep with that camera under your pillow tonight, bud.” Billy says with sugar in his voice. He elbows Jonathan, who elbows him back, to which Billy responds with a harder hit.

The two are tussling about like a couple of kids before there’s a knock at the door.

Everyone stops at the sound, but when the bubble pops in the next second they’re all moving to answer it.

“I’ve got it!” Billy calls over the sound of them rushing to the door, taking long strides to push past them and get them away from the knob. “God, you’re a bunch of animals.” He chastises as he swings the door open.

On the other side of the door is Steve all dressed up in matching Easter colors. He’s looking down at his shoes, kicking a bit at the doorway in a nervous kind of gesture the second that Billy opens the door, and in the next he’s looking up with wide eyes.

He’s nervous why is he so nervous now I’m even more nervous oh God...

Billy squirms a bit where he stands.

Steve blinks hard. Billy doesn’t appreciate the silence, or the gathering of everyone behind his back that he can sense.

“Well? You got something to say, Bambi?” Billy’s foot is tapping incessantly. He can’t help it. He cracks all the knuckles on his left hand just by using his fingers. He’s nervous... and he swears he can feel everyone’s collective breath on his back.

Steve shakes himself out of his stupor.

“You look so good.” Steve nearly breathes it out. It kills Billy.

There are more than a few coos behind him, followed by a few amused chuckles. Billy’s face is currently burning red hot, but it’s not distracting enough to keep him from turning around and glaring at his family.

They’re all crowded together, doing their best to look at the scene in front of them without getting too close. When they get caught, they scatter.

Billy turns back to Steve, face still bright and hot. He absolutely hates the feeling, so much so that he can’t even think about wiping the scowl off his face.

“Yeah, whatever. You do too.” Billy feels sophomoric. Like a young girl who got asked to prom by a Senior guy. Like he’s waiting for his corsage or whatever. He feels so foolish.

“Thanks.” Steve says, eyeing Billy up and down. “You slicked your hair back.”

Billy reaches up for it self-consciously. He feels that curl that fell out earlier and brushes it back.

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Why?” Steve asks, a little smile on his lips.

Billy’s not sure why he’s so irritated by the question, but he wants to believe the red on his face that he’s deeply sure is out of nervousness is actually red out of anger.

“I tried to look presentable. This is about impressing your parents, isn’t it?”

Billy’s trying not to snap, but it’s hard not to after being so strung up all week. It’s all he’s been able to think about is standing out in a field of flowers with a bunch of stuffy rich people.

Steve nods. His eyes turn softer, even though Billy’s close to barking.

A tiny shoulder is pressing into Billy’s arm then, shoving him out of the way with surprising strength.

“Hi Steve!” El says cheerfully, beaming her little smile up at the boy.

“Hi kiddo.” Steve says, smiling back just as bright. Billy shifts in place.

“Steve!” Joyce calls from inside the house. Steve and El turn to look at her, but Billy is staring at the stupidly nice shoes on his feet.

Nervous nervous way too nervous why am I so nervous please don’t ask him in...

“Won’t you come inside? I’ve got lemonade!”

Pictures she wants pictures don’t ask for pictures...

“I’d love to get a good picture of you both, too-”

Billy cuts in. He doesn’t feel too bad about it.

“We’re running late, already.” Billy says, loudly, to try to send a hint to this room full of people who can never seem to take one.

Billy still has his back facing the house, so he can’t see Joyce’s face. He figures it’s better this way, otherwise they’d be dragged into another photo session and Billy really cannot handle that right now. Not when his heart is trying to pack it’s bags and run away to the fucking city. He just looks up at Steve, shooting the boy his biggest, cry for help, ”please-have-my-back-here-babe” face that he can.

Steve takes the hint and gives a little nod.

“Yeah, we really are kind of late. My parents don’t like me being late to this stuff.” Steve shrugs. There’s more words on his tongue, Billy can see it. Steve kind of word-vomits when he starts talking about his parents and all the ways he seems to think he disappoints them. It makes Billy’s chest hurt more often than not. It ends in Billy kissing the guilt away more often than not.

“Oh of course! No worries then, dear!” There’s not a lot of disappointment in Joyce’s voice. Billy lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He leans himself against the doorway, facing the other side of the threshold’s frame.

“You can’t drive us?” El asks, looking up with puppy dog eyes that could pull at anyone’s heart.

“Nah, can’t today, kiddo. We have to be somewhere.” Steve says. It makes Billy think something so stupid he wouldn’t even admit it to himself.

Kids kids kids kids…

He pushes the thought away to briefly wonder why Jonathan can’t take them. Figures it’s something with Nancy. He’s not dressed yet and the kids seem antsy to be somewhere. He’s fine with his mind on that, on anything away from where he’s about to be headed.

“It’s okay, El, we can just take my bike.” Will says, suddenly showing up at the side of them.

The four of them push through the door, giving their respective goodbyes before Billy and Steve climb into Steve’s car and El crowds Will on the back of his bike. They make the bike look a little small, but they’ve done this before. It still makes Billy laugh a bit. Seeing the two giggle a little when Will loses his balance for a second lightens Billy’s heart.

“Ready to go?” Steve asks, like they didn’t rush out to the car to get going. Like they aren’t really late and like Steve didn’t really mean what he said about his parents, even though Billy knows he did.

Billy nods.

“Yeah, let’s just… do it.”

Steve nods for a little too long. He can’t get the keys in the ignition without fumbling a bit. They drive and Billy can’t even think about how much he dislikes the song currently playing.

He’s fidgeting still.

Nervous nervous so nervous why am I so nervous what the fuck is wrong with me-

“You nervous?” Steve asks around a bubble in his throat. He clears it with a cough after he speaks.

Billy snorts unattractively and pushes back his hair, even though the curl isn’t loose anymore. He reaches for the top of his button down, unbuttoning and rebuttoning because he needs to do something.

“No.” he lies through his teeth.

Steve gives a little sigh.

“Yeah, me too.”

It confuses Billy for a second.

“What?”

“I’m nervous, too.” Steve says, voice a little shaky. Billy doesn’t know what to say. He feels appreciation bubble up inside of him that he tries to mask with irritation.

“I’m no-” His voice catches and immediately he’s mad about it. “I’m not.”

It sounds so stupid now that it’s out in the air. He looks out the window, like it’ll help the heat blooming on his face. He unbuttons the second button too.

Then there’s a hand taking hold of his left one. Billy looks at it, watches Steve’s thumb rub at the skin between his index and thumb. He looks up at Steve, who’s still got his eyes on the road.

“Thanks for… agreeing. I know it’s shit. Trust me, I don’t want to be going here either. But… it means a lot. And no matter what, I’m still your boyfriend, alright? I don’t care what anyone thinks.”

Billy’s eyes prick with tears. He’s not even sure why they’re there, but he blames it on how high strung he’s been all week. How pulled taut he’s felt since Steve brought this whole thing up. He’s just boiling over, that’s all.

Steve looks over at him, eyes getting soft and worry resting in his brow.

“Billy?”

“Just drive, you idiot.” Billy mumbles, turning back to the window while grabbing firm hold of Steve’s hand.

~~*~~

Billy is beyond uncomfortable.

Truly beyond uncomfortable. He’s itching in his button down, which Steve insisted looked better than the dark blue polo and would be much cooler to wear than the dark color in the bright sun, but Billy barely heard him. After a certain point (and that damn kiss) Billy just trusted Steve’s judgement.

But now he’s itching. He’s still unbuttoning the top button on his shirt, fingers twitching to unbutton the next one (or two) along with the first, but knows Steve would just close them up like he’s been doing with the top one.

“You’re not my mom.” Billy had muttered, squinting in the sun of the bright summer day.

“No but I’m your boyfriend.” Steve had said quietly, fixing the button again and making Billy’s heart palpitate.

And now they’re standing in a damn garden, big, bright, white, fancy, canopy tents propped up and scattered around the park, a little ways away from each other so you have to wander into the bright sun to get to the next one. There’s fancy tables with fancy trays of fancy food that Billy finds absolutely ridiculous.

Steve’s parents have been talking to people for the past twenty minutes. Steve made eye contact with them and waved once they arrived, but both of them just gave vaguely pleasant smiles while still schmoozing whoever it was that was more important than their son and his friend. That they themselves requested to meet.

Assholes.

“Whatever.” Steve had muttered under his breath before veering towards a waiter carrying around what Billy assumed was a tray of mimosas. Billy, for as nervous as he was and still is, didn’t exactly want to start drinking before he even spoke to the two. Y’know, good first impressions and all that. He hadn’t known before what it felt like to care this much, but he doesn’t exactly hate it.

Steve has downed about 3 mimosas, the two of them standing a ways away from his parents so that they can jump in when they’re free.

They still have to wait about five minutes before it’s their “turn”.

“Hi mom, hi dad.” Steve says, something plastic about his movements. It’s weird for Billy to watch.

“Hello there, Steve.” His dad says in a pleasant enough way. He doesn’t set off enough alarm bells in Billy’s head for him to get upset.

“Hello dear.” Steve’s mom says pleasantly in turn, leaning forward to give Steve a sideways kiss on his cheek, keeping her lips from making contact so she doesn’t smear him with lipstick. Steve purses his lips a bit as well.

“This must be your friend!” His mother says it like she just noticed him standing there. She offers a delicate hand, palm down, showing off her perfectly manicured nails. It seems like she’s asking Billy to kiss it or something. He reaches for it and decides it best to give her the satisfaction. He’s been trying to parse out how thick he wants to lay all his charm on. He finally decided “real thick” was the best option.

He leans down and gives the back of her palm a light kiss, immediately noticing that her hands don’t really give away her age like some other mothers Billy has come into contact with. Billy isn’t able to tell what age she may be. Steve insinuated once that his parents had him young- younger than was advised for them both- and now Billy thinks that probably makes sense.

When he comes back up, she’s giving him that look that makes his stomach churn. The look that every mother in his life has ever given him, save from his own and now Joyce. The look that comes off as if she thinks she’s the first to give it, but that Billy has seen since he was about 14 and his voice dropped.

Billy turns his attention to the father. He gives the firmest handshake he can, just on the edge of bruising the man’s skin. He’s a lot taller than Billy, hair perfectly groomed back with just the right amount of gray in it to make him seem wisened. He’s real young too- so young Billy thinks he may have dyed his hair a little gray to get that “salt and pepper” look that’s probably on trend or something. It makes Billy internally roll his eyes.

The man’s not exactly stocky, but he’s not trim either. Probably eats his fair share of expensive meats and works out a couple of days a week just to say he does. Maybe to fuck his personal trainer. Billy’s extrapolating now, but he doesn’t think he’s reaching very far.

“Nice to meet you.” Mr. Harrington says like he’s not at all displeased by this interaction. Billy takes it as a win. “I’m Charles Harrington.”

“Nice to meet you too, sir.” Billy’s mouth doesn’t want to form around the title, but he gives it anyway. Laying it on thick, and all. “Billy Hargrove.”

“He is quite a handsome one, isn’t he?” Steve’s mom asks, grabbing Steve’s arm to wrap her own around it. It’s like she’s talking with one of her socialite friends and thinks she’s out of ear shot.

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Yes, and he can hear you.” Steve mutters. Billy watches as her face doesn’t move a muscle but her hand claws slightly into her son’s arm.

“It’s always so nice to meet one of Steve’s little friends.” She starts again, eyes crinkled into a smile that’s not entirely disingenuous.

It’s not evil. Billy’s seen his fair share of evil women. She just seems a little less than satisfied with whatever situation she’s in. Billy does know that Mr. Harrington is a serial cheater, but he hasn’t heard anything about the mother. She’s still young and an attractive enough woman as far as Billy can tell. She could probably get one of these rich bastards to fuck her in one of the dozens of rooms at the country club.

Either way, it’s not really his business, and he doesn’t really want to think about his boyfriend’s mom getting railed while she’s gazing hazily at him like he’s the one that would do it for her. Either that or like he’s the man she probably reads about in her horny novels.

Steve has something poisonous on his lips, probably something like “he’s not little”. Be it with a dirty undertone or not, Billy guesses it doesn’t really matter.

He’s still fidgeting a bit, but he keeps his charming composure up.

“And it’s nice to finally meet the Harringtons. I’ll say, you’re definitely far from matronly, Mrs. Harrington.”

Billy doesn’t know if he should do the typical, cliche thing and say she looks like Steve’s sister. Considering she had him pretty young, it might strike the wrong chord.

Whatever, he said what he did with enough sugar to make her blush.

“Oh, Billy.” She tuts, rolling her eyes a bit and placing a hand on one of her cheeks, clearly becoming a bit flush. Billy takes a bit more pride in it than normal. He is here to schmooze, after all. “I bet you drive all the girls just crazy, don’t you?”

Billy’s been in this situation for about two minutes and already he has to feel out if he should act like a smarmy slut or like a proper gentleman.

He figures in-between is the best bet. Doesn’t want them catching on or anything...

“There’s definitely a few girls.” He says, hands clasped behind his back so he can hide his fidgeting. “But they don’t seem to get that I’m a wine and dine kind of guy.”

Billy has had what probably equates to about 2 glasses of wine in his whole life. He figures the tiny details don’t exactly matter.

He’s laid the charm on thick enough to get Mrs. Harrington giggling again, and said it with just enough charm to get Mr. Harrington to chuckle the smallest bit as well. It’s an oddly good feeling.

“We’ve got a regular casanova on our hands.” Mr. Harrington says with something that sounds like acceptance in his voice. “Good thing, too. I feel like we don’t get a lot of your kind in Hawkins.”

Billy gives them a smile and shifts his eyes to Steve, who looks a mix of nervous and amused. If only these two knew that more often than not he’s riding their son in the front seat of his Camaro, or fucking him up against the hood, or laying out in a field shotgunning a joint. If only they knew he sucked their son dry in the locker room after basketball practice back when they were still convinced they hated each other.

Casanova indeed. Real wine and dine.

“And your shorts!” Steve’s mother pipes up brightly. “So colorful! I love the little spots embroidered on them.”

“Actually, they’re skulls.” It’s Steve who admits to it, an irritated look on his face that’s somehow also laced with smugness. He’s clearly trying to get under their skin as much as they’re under his.

They both turn to Steve, before looking back down at Billy’s pants. The two lean in a little bit.

“That they are, huh?” Mr. Harrington says, sounding semi-impressed. “Well, would you look at that! A sense of fashion, as well!”

Steve rolls his eyes. Billy makes eye contact with him so he can share this semi-triumphant moment.

Steve seems about to say something, but his father cuts him off.

“So tell us, Billy-” Mr. Harrington seems hard pressed saying the name “Billy”, and it gives Billy some weird, perverse joy. “What does your father do?”

Billy’s immediately winded by the question, throat held tight by the thoughts that race through his mind in an instant.

In his stupor, Billy’s vaguely aware of Steve puffing up in defense.

“I already, told you, dad, he-”

Billy waves him away.

“It’s fine.” He mutters, before looking Mr. Harrington squarely in the eye. “My dad is the Chief of Police.”

It feels weird- alien on his tongue and in his head. It sets stress loose from its reign, running wildly through his body. It causes his blood to rush too fast, too loud through his veins.

“Oh! Chief-” Mrs. Harrington says, before her mind catches up with her ears. “Uhm… Chief…” Her voice is getting quiet, eyes hooded in confusion as she turns to her husband. “Chief… Hargro…” She’s clearly grasping for straws here. “Chief Hopper? Right?”

She’s speaking in a rather loud whisper, but only to her husband. Mr. Harrington shrugs a bit.

“Yes, ma’am.” Billy speaks up, when he’s finally able to. “My dad is Chief Hopper.”

“Ahh…” Mrs. Harrington breathes, still a little confused and looking slightly unconvinced. She’s giving him a smile as she processes the information before it hits her. Billy sees the realization light up in her eyes. “Oh, the adopted one.”

That whisper is quieter, more secretive… more careful that others won’t hear.

It strikes a chord in his chest. Billy wants to be mad about it. He wants to close himself off from whatever feelings it gives him. He wants to build up some armor… but it just makes his heart sink. He didn’t think that would be the response people would give.

Steve rolls his eyes, but there’s something upset living on his mouth, making it twitch.

Mrs. Harrington gives a careful look to her husband, before turning back to Billy with a pleasant smile. It’s a little hard to find anything false in it, but he can definitely see it. It makes him briefly wonder how much of their life has been hidden behind polite smiles just this side of false.

“That’s very interesting, Billy!” She says, like he’s a toddler that just told her about how he picked up frog collecting- like he’s a child. It’s condescending. It should make Billy angry.

It sinks his heart further.

“It’s not interesting, mom, it’s normal.” Steve hisses under his breath, eyebrows low over his eyes. Billy feels stupid, standing around, letting them talk about him right in front of him.

“Well, yes.” She sniffs haughtily, straightening her back ever so slightly. “Of course it is, it’s…”

Mr. Harrington cuts in. “Chief Hopper is a good man. He does a lot for this town.”

His voice is like that of a robot’s, inflectionless and calculated. Billy doesn’t need to be told about Jim, but he’d be interested to hear Mr. Harrington say more. As far as Billy knows, Hop hates these two.

Mrs. Harrington takes a light breath in, about to say something when her gaze is suddenly locked on something far away, and she’s tapping her husband’s arm incessantly.

“Charles, the Wilson’s just arrived.”

She gives her husband a look that he returns, and then they’re turning to the boys with matching smiles that make them look like they belong on a billboard advertising new homes.

“It was just so lovely finally meeting you, Billy.” Mrs. Harrington says, eyelashes fluttering.

“But we do have some business to attend to.” Mr. Harrington chimes in, allowing his wife to take his arm. They stand together like a shiny puzzle, obviously matching but not worn enough to really fit. “But enjoy yourselves, boys.”

“Yes!” Says Mrs. Harrington again, pleasantly, even though they begin to walk away. They’re floating away gracefully while still talking to the two. “I suggest the deviled eggs over on that table there. Mrs. Carlton finally made them again and I swear they’re to die for.”

They wave politely before rushing off, sending tittering words of hello to everyone they pass by.

Billy watches after them, stunned a bit at their presence and unsure of what to make of everything that just happened. He opts for turning his attention to Steve, who somehow has another mimosa in his hand.

“God.” Steve mutters before downing half in one gulp. “Well, say goodbye to them for the rest of the day.”

Billy’s shocked at the admittance.

“Seriously?”

Steve shrugs with an eye roll as he downs the rest of his drink. He gulps around his answer.

“Probably. Business usually means buttering up a few people for the rest of the party.” Steve sighs. “Trust me, I’ve been left alone at enough of these to know.”

He sets his glass on a passing waiter’s tray.

“So… I did good?” Billy asks, wondering how Steve picks up drinks so easily from those passing trays and wondering still if maybe he can do it or if he needs Steve to do it for him.

Steve is a little ways away, a little distracted if his eyes are anything to go by. Billy pinches his arm back to the present.

“Oh! Yeah, you were perfect. I think you pleased them enough to make them ignore us for the rest of the day.”

Billy feels proud about that.

“So we can go?”

He knows it’s hopeful thinking, but he lets his chest lighten for a second. Steve’s chuckle brings him back to reality.

“Not if you care about me, we can’t. My mom will have a tantrum if we leave before four.”

“Four?” Billy asks incredulously, eyeing more drinks as they walk by.

“Yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes. “It’s some stupid, unspoken rule.”

Billy sighs, watching all the rich, pretty people around them as they socialize. He’s still itching in his shirt, but a little less so, knowing the worst part is over. It has to be over. He did his job of impressing the parents and now he just has to… be eye candy or whatever. Whatever these rich people want.

“Let’s just hope I don’t run into anyone who wants to talk about how much I’ve grown.” Steve mutters. “C’mon, I wanna find those deviled eggs.”

Billy follows like a puppy.

~~~

It’s…. strange… watching Steve float around from table to table, effectively deflecting people he doesn’t wish to talk to in such a polite and collected way.

Billy was prepared to take the brunt of the conversations, but to his surprise Steve does most of the talking. He schmoozes almost as perfectly as his parents did, giving the same plastic smiles Billy has been watching him give all day, allowing the women to pat his shoulder or grab his arm or tell him how “strong” he is now; how “old” and “mature” and “handsome” he’s gotten.

Something a little sick fills Billy’s stomach, but it’s pushed away by the butterflies… probably more accurately described as something akin to “moths”. Or lightning bugs. Or maybe those big, thick, black flies that buzz louder than they ought to. Yeah, those.

It’s just that every second that passes leaves him out of place. Pushes him further and further to the left of where he should be. Women are laughing and talking with Steve, and Billy really is just the arm candy. He gives them smiles as polite as he can muster. Sometimes they eye him up and down (always getting caught on his bright shorts), and ask who he is, where he’s from… what his father does.

“He’s the Chief of Police, ma’am.”

“Oh!” They say, eyes wide and smiles fallen, before picking them back up and insisting Chief Hopper is a “very kind man” before sauntering away with some excuse of finding a friend, or a drink. Or their husband. Sometimes they have something a little more knowing in their eyes; sometimes their eyes get wide with memories and they look at Billy with blushing faces that aren’t because of his own good looks. Billy’s not an idiot- he’s heard about Hop’s affinity for “getting around” before El came into his life, and he kind of figures that must be what they’re so embarrassed about now. It makes Billy chuckle.

He doesn’t like watching these women touching Steve, though. He’s glad when they turn leering gazes onto him rather than reach out to grab at Steve’s arm.

“Oh, so you’re Billy Hargrove.” One woman, a Mrs. Sadler, says with a weird glint in her eye and irritation spread thin over her voice.

“Yes, ma’am.” Billy says with as smug of a look as he can muster, trying his best not to look as awkward as he feels. “Does my uh- reputation precede me?”

He hates that he falters, but he says it with enough charm that she laughs a shrill sort of thing.

“Oh, yes. You really caught my Addison’s eye when you first moved to town. My lord, you are all she would talk about for at least two weeks.”

Ah, Addie Sadler; the quiet little sophomore girl who stared at Billy every day at lunch from across the cafeteria before getting dared to lay a kiss on Billy at a party. Ever since then she hasn’t so much as made eye contact with him. He’s kind of happy about it- her stares used to weird him out.

“Now I can certainly see why.”

The woman reaches a hand out to touch Billy, but somehow Steve talks their way out of the situation, grabbing hold of Billy first and saying he needs some company to find his parents to “ask them something” but “thanks for the well wishes on college, Mrs. Sadler” and “say hi to Addison and Jacob for me”.

Billy’s so thankful for his boyfriend he could kiss him. Lord does he want to kiss him. Billy’s been trying to scope out the place for the past hour to find a corner they can hide away in.

They end up at the next tent over, where Billy recognizes enough people to know they’ve already talked to them and thus, shouldn’t be bothered.

“Thanks.”

“Course.” Steve says, love in his voice even if he can’t show it physically.

Billy’s itching again, absolutely itching. He feels like there’s ants crawling all up inside of his pretty, new, collared shirt.

He eyes another tray of fruity drinks that passes by them and taps Steve’s shoulder.

“I’ve been trying to get a drink all day, how the fuck do you stop one of those guys?”

Steve laughs.

“You just reach out and grab a glass. Here, what do you want?”

Billy looks around, weighing his options. He’s never tried champagne, but he’s not the biggest fan of orange juice. He thinks there’s someone walking around with sangria but he really doesn’t care for the taste of wine.

Then he sees a couple of men huddled in a corner together, laughing heartily, drinking some beers.

Billy points.

“They’ve got beer, where’d they get beer?”

Steve eyes them curiously. “Oh, you have to ask someone for that. I can- uhh- waiter!”

One of the waiters stops suddenly in his tracks, tilting his head to indicate his attention.

“Can I get a couple of beers, please?”

“Of course, sir.”

He asks about different brands Billy’s never heard of. He assumes they’re probably craft beers. Steve looks to Billy, who probably looks more than a little shocked. He’s never had any kind of craft beer before. They’re expensive, and he just gets what he can from the drug stores. He shrugs.

“Whatever you recommend is fine.” Steve answers, slipping money into the man’s hand and giving another plastic smile before turning to Billy with a simple look. “See?”

“Well la dee da, Mr. Country Club.” Billy says, giving a little bit of a smile back. Steve shoves Billy’s shoulder.

“Shut up. I had to go to enough of these I’ve lost track, I had to learn some things to keep myself sane.”

“It’s just… weird.” Billy admits, leaning against a table behind him that luckily isn’t littered with tiny foods or abandoned glasses of wine. “Seeing you in your… ‘natural habitat’ or whatever.” Billy uses air quotes for good measure, because truthfully, the words don’t seem right.

Steve snorts.

“Yeah, sure, so natural.” He says almost huffily, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I just know enough to get by at these things. I hate them. I bet only about 3 people of the dozens here actually give a shit about if I’m going to college or not.”

“That why you’re lying and telling everyone you are?” Billy asks, the smirk on his face masking the worry he feels. Steve sighs.

“Yeah, because they don’t care. Not really.” Steve grabs a tiny biscuit or something as a waiter walks by with it. “They just wanna hear me talk. Seem polite to keep up appearances or whatever.” Steve shoves the food in his mouth with a shrug. “Plus they all got their kids into college. They paid them all off. My parents would kill me if I told people they didn’t pay my way.”

Billy tries to think of something to say, but the waiter is back with the two beers.

“Thank you.” Steve says politely after swallowing. The man bows his head a bit before scurrying off.

“Here ya go, babe.” Steve mumbles the last bit. “I’ll hold the other till you want it.���

“Thanks.” He mumbles back, thinking about how if he’s this uncomfortable now how he can’t imagine what he’d feel like as a kid.

They stand around and talk, Billy taking note of how anxious Steve seems to be now that he can’t pick up another fruity drink being paraded around.

“I think you should slow your roll on the drinks, babe.” Billy says, lips at the tip of the bottle. “Not unless you want me driving your fancy car home.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Whatever. I guess.” He sounds bitter. His eyes are shifty, looking at everyone around him, waiting for the next person who’s gonna come after them to start asking questions.

Billy reaches a hand out, time feeling a little sticky in the summer heat as he decides where to put his hand. What he wants to do is grab Steve’s hand and put his other on Steve’s chest, over his heart, and pull him in tight and kiss his nose and be soppy. It’s soppiness that heals Steve faster than anything. Soppiness that gets him all melted and calm.

What he does is grab Steve’s shoulder and squeeze, shake his shoulder a tad till Steve is looking him in the eye. He injects as much love into his gaze as he can, knowing that’s the only place he can really get away with it.

Steve seems to appreciate it. He takes a deep breath and breathes out slowly, albeit a little unevenly.

“Sorry.” Steve says like he’s ashamed. Billy pinches Steve’s shoulder.

“Stop that. This place is shit, I know you think so too.”

Steve nods. “I just… I know I’m different here.” Steve swallows because he’s nervous. “It’s gross but I- I can’t help it. It just comes out. I grew up here, I-”

Steve is reaching up to run his hands through his hair, mussing it up until Billy pinches his shoulder again and slaps his hand away.

“Shut up, you idiot.” Billy’s stern, but not harsh. Steve looks him in the eye again. “The only thing that’s different is you’re not happy. I haven’t seen that famous Harrington smile of yours all day.”

Steve chuckles a bit, but it’s not good enough. Billy reaches out to poke Steve’s side, eliciting a laugh and a noise of indignation.

But there’s the smile.

“Hey, warn a guy.” Billy chastises with a smirk on his face. “You’re gonna blind someone with those.”

Steve laughs, and shoves at Billy’s shoulder again. It’s the only contact they can get without attracting unwanted attention. But it’s not much different from their everyday lives anyway, careful of every touch they give so as not to get anyone suspecting anything. They just enjoy what they can when they get it.

They’re standing there, chuckling lightly with each other, eyes sparkling and bright, when-

When they’re interrupted by the roar of an engine, followed by the shrill sound of La Cucaracha blasting through the air, causing more than a couple of women to shriek and jump.

Everyone in the party turns to the parking lot, where a pale yellow, 1953 Coupe DeVille is currently driving past.

Billy’s heart jumps a bit at seeing the car. He can appreciate a nice car when he sees one.

“Now that guy, knows how to ride in style.” Billy says, arms crossed, looking at the car in appreciation.

When he doesn’t get a response, he looks to his boyfriend, to see his face has fallen in shock.

“Grammy.” He whispers under his breath, so low Billy almost doesn’t hear it.

“Huh?”

Steve blinks.

“It’s… it’s Grammy.” He shakes his head a bit, blinking heavier, coming out of whatever weird memory he’s in. “Uh, my grandma. It’s my grandma.”

Billy’s about as surprised as Steve looks. He signed up for two parents, not a family reunion.

“Your grandma? Drives that?”

Billy hasn’t seen his grandmothers in a while, but he can safely say they never drove anything like… like that.

Steve just nods.

“Yeah… uh. God, they didn’t tell me she was coming, why didn’t they tell me she was coming?” Steve sounds more on the side of shocked than angry.

Billy looks around to find Steve’s parents standing amid a small crowd, looking at the parking lot in what Billy could only describe as “shameful horror”.

He laughs.

“Somethin’ tells me they didn’t know.”

Steve looks over to them, shaking a bit. Billy wants to help. He places a hand on the small of the boy’s back, knowing no one’s paying anything else but the coupe much attention. He leaves it there for a second or two and takes it away just as quickly, but it’s the thought that counts.

Suddenly, Steve’s parents turn towards them, and then they’re gliding towards them with a purpose.

Billy isn’t sure what exactly to do with himself. He feels stupid for thinking it, but he thought he was done. He really thought he was done, but now he’s fidgeting again. Itching in his shirt, itching in his skin, itching itching itching.

“Steven.” Mr. Harrington says by some way of greeting. It’s far more authoritative than before. It almost doesn’t feel like the same man. Steve just nods his response.

“I know.”

There’s a pause. Then:

“Well, we’ll just… we’ll just have to... “ It’s Steve’s mother. She’s obviously shaking with nerves before she turns to Billy with a collected smile. “Billy, I’m so sorry, I’m afraid we’re going to have to… steal Steve away. For just a bit.”

Billy nods, but doesn’t get much of a chance to say anything before Steve’s mother links her arm with her son and the two drag Steve away, leaving Billy there to watch.

Steve shoots an apologetic look back at him.

Billy waves.

He downs the rest of his beer before he realizes that Steve left the second bottle there on the table for him. Billy picks it up and looks for a way to kill time.

He feels immediately untethered. It only takes a few feet between him and Steve for Billy to feel the line connecting them snap, and along with it his sanity in this place. In an instant he feels like a child, lost without his parent. He feels idiotic, bobbing out at sea, an untethered boat floating away from the dock, pushed into vulnerability.

Nervous nervous fucking hell why am I so nervous goddamnit I�� I…

He needs to sit.

He mentally debates between staying close enough to Steve just to be able to see him and have comfort, or getting as far away as possible so as not to attract attention to himself from Grandmother Harrington. Or… whatever side she’s from.

He figures the latter is probably better. Maybe if he hides away, acts busy, looks somewhere else… he won’t have to meet her.

Another tent another tent another tent…

Billy wanders out of the tent he’s under and towards another one, before getting caught up in the sun and the comfort it gives him for a second. He lets it burn comfort into his skin.

Standing in the middle of a perfectly manicured field, staring at the patches of well-gardened flowers with something boiling and vile in his chest. Something so deeply uncomfortable and unnatural. Something almost rotten. He thinks of the time and the effort spent on making just these flowers look presentable enough for these rich people. He thinks about the poor men who sit out here and work at maintaining all these stupid plants that these people never come out to appreciate because they don’t go anywhere near the damn sun. Like they’ll melt. Maybe they will.

…

He thinks about how pretty that flower is. That one. With the reddish-purpleish petals. Lots and lots and lots of thin petals. He thinks about Steve. About how the only reason he’s here is because of Steve. About how that’s what makes all of this worth it… Steve.

He feels something bubble up again in his chest. It overpowers the other stuff. It makes him a little less sick.

As he reaches out to pick it, all he can think about are Steve’s eyes. Steve’s skin. How good this flower will look in the pocket of Steve’s stupid little button down.

“What are you doing?”

Billy startles.

As he turns his head to find the voice, he doesn’t expect to have to look down to see a face.

It’s a little girl. Her curls are perfect and pinned away from her face with shiny little things that Billy thinks Max would gag at, no matter her age. Her dress is a pastel blue and just the slightest bit too fancy for what Billy thinks this event is supposed to be. Billy’s still not even sure what this event is supposed to be, truly, but this girl looks like she’s going to church. She has earrings Billy thinks may be her mother’s and a bossy little scowl that’s definitely all her own.

“I said, what are you doing?”

Billy’s still got his hands around the stem of the flower. He plucks it from the bush. The girl gasps.

“You’re not supposed to do that.” She says, matter of factly. Her hands are on her hips. Billy raises his best oh-yeah? eyebrow, paired with a what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it? smirk.

“And who said that?”

“My mother.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, ‘cause I used to try to pick ‘em and my mother said no.”

Billy snickers. “Maybe you should stop listening to your mother, kid.”

Her eyebrows curl in on themselves. “Hey! I’m not a kid. I’m eleven.”

Billy laughs something a little fuller. “Sounds like a kid to me.”

“I’m eleven.” Her hands curl into fists on her hips. “And you’re not supposed to do that.”

She looks pointedly at the flower in Billy’s hand. He follows her gaze to look at it too.

He wants to give it to Steve. He wants to lay it on his ear, tipped under his hair. He wants to tuck it into his shirt pocket.

He can’t do that out in public. Billy twists the flower in thought, mesmerized for a second by the petals spinning in a dizzying pattern. He’s taken out of it in an instant. He decides what to do just as quickly.

“Not even if it’s for you?”

Her eyes light up immediately, glued to the flower like it’s a promise ring or something. Her smile sneaks its way out and something about it makes Billy feel warm. Like when he makes El laugh, or when he makes Max smile and punch him, or when he makes Joyce giggle that happy little giggle where she has to cover her whole face with her hand. He doesn’t know this girl at all, but something about her smile after seeing her scowl at him like that makes him feel like he’s accomplished something. He smirks in some kind of strange triumph.

She takes the flower and holds it close to her, inspecting the petals like she’s doing a quality check.

“I guess that’s okay.” She says into her flower, shrugging little shoulders. Billy laughs a bit, looking back at the flowers and wishing again for a second that he could have given it to Steve instead.

There’s a moment of silence, Billy getting lost in his thoughts of Steve and kids and family and if Steve is done yet-

“Are you famous?”

It’s the girl. Billy looks back down at her.

“Huh?”

“Are you famous?” She enunciates like he’s dumb for being confused. Like what she just asked wasn’t supposed to catch him off guard.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“I dunno.” She shrugs her shoulders again, looking down at her flower with a face scrunched up by the sun. “The only time I see boys with hair as long as yours is when they’re famous.”

“Really?” Billy asks on a scoff. He knows his hair is a little over the top here, but he couldn’t even count on his fingers how many people he saw with mullets back in California; with hair longer than his back in California. There were countless people that had hair that could rival your local hair band. Then again, there are probably no ‘local hair bands’ out in Hawkins.

“Indiana’s pretty boring, huh?” Billy asks.

She shrugs again, picking at something on her flower like she’s bored. “I guess. I dunno.”

Billy scoffs and looks back at the flowers. He briefly wonders what it’s like for the kids who grew up here… who spend their whole lives here. The poor kids who get stuck here. They’re probably the ones who sit around in the parking lot of that drug store on the corner of Hyde.

“What’s your name?” Comes the little voice again. Billy becomes vaguely aware of the awful slow rock in the background. It sounds like something by Paul Simon.

“Billy Hargrove.” Billy licks his teeth around it.

“Ha!” She nearly shrieks. Billy doesn’t get as startled with this one. “So you are famous!”

“I’m not.” He’s definitive about it, but her determined face doesn’t let up.

“Are too.” Her hands are on her hips again, the flower still held gently in her left hand. “My brother used to talk about you all the time. He doesn’t shut up.”

“Really?” That perks Billy’s ears up. His mind flips through all of the faces at his school like a flipbook. “Who’s your brother?”

“Connor.”

“Huh…” There’s only one Connor that Billy can think of: Connor Blake. He sticks his nose up at everyone. Billy can’t say he’s less than curious about whatever that prick would have to say about him. “What’d he say?”

She shrugs again, looking towards the tents with her face still scrunched up in the sun. “Weird stuff. Stuff about your eyes and your muscles and your hair. He’s weird.”

That makes something electric light in Billy’s chest. There’s a full blown cackle brewing in him, but he just lets out a cool chuckle. Connor is a more than decent looking guy. He has a nice nose, for whatever that’s worth, even if his lips are a little non-existent. He’s always come off as the ‘holier-than-thou’ type. Not like Billy is much of one to talk, but still. Something about the boy and his high horse never seemed to lend to any particular gayness in Billy’s eyes. Obviously he pegged him wrong.

“Maybe you’re just not old enough to get it.” Billy says over a smirk.

The girl shrugs again. At this point Billy’s sure her shoulders are going to get caught in those earrings. “I dunno, I’m pretty old. I’m eleven y’know.”

Billy rolls his eyes but there’s still a smirk on his face, albeit a tired one. “Yeah, I know. Where’s your brother now? Did he come?”

Her curls flip around themselves as she shakes her head. “No, he never comes to these because my parents say he gets to pick, but I’m still too young to pick if I wanna go or not.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. But I’m eleven. I should get to pick.”

“Yeah, you should.” Billy really does agree.

“Can you tell my mother that?” She’s looking up at him now, nose all wrinkled up.

“Sorry kid, I think you have to do that for yourself.”

“Olivia!” Comes a shrill voice that Billy wishes wasn’t getting closer. “Stop bothering this young man and come say hi to Mr. and Mrs. Whitman.”

“Mom!” The girl yells back. “Billy says I’m old enough to pick if I wanna come here or not.”

“Billy?” The woman asks, getting closer. Billy turns to greet her. “Billy…” She says quietly, doing her best to place the name right up until she sees his face. “Oh! Well hello there.”

Billy gives a tight, close-lipped smile. The woman fixes her hair where it’s already perfectly piled on top of her head.

“Why, you’re Billy Hargrove, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes yes… everyone’s talking about how Jim Hopper’s son is here today.”

Billy’s confused at that, wondering what everyone’s deal is about him being adopted. His mouth twists up a bit, involuntarily.

“Jim Hopper?” The girl asks. She looks about as confused as Billy feels. “The policeman? He came to our school once. He’s kinda fat to be your da-”

“Olivia!” The woman clicks her tongue, swiping purposelessly at the air in her daughters direction.

“It’s true.” The girl mutters, looking down at her flower and spinning it. Her mother clicks her tongue.

“Oh please.” Her mouth twists in distaste. “And didn’t I tell you not to pick flowers?”

“Billy picked it for me!” The girl says indignantly, crinkling her nose up in defiance now. There’s a very obvious difference.

The mother’s demeanor changes instantly, face smoothing over in understanding as she turns approving eyes in Billy’s direction.

“Oh! Really? Well then, that’s fine.” Her voice is dripping in liquid sugar. She looks like she wants to reach a hand out to touch him, but her daughter is piping up again.

“Hey!” She yells, catching the attention of both of them. Billy’s not religious, but he might want to bless this child. “That’s not fair! Why can he pick flowers but I can’t?”

Her mother looks exhausted. It makes Billy chuckle.

“Because, sweetheart,” She says, the sweetness entirely fake now. It makes Billy taste something bitter. “You’re a lady and he’s a gentleman.”

“And gentlemen get to pick flowers?”

“Yes. For the ladies.”

The girl, Olivia, gives her mother a look like her mother is trying to pull one over on her. She looks down at the flower, and then up to Billy, who gives an unimpressed look matching his unimpressed, single-shouldered shrug.

The girl turns back to her mother.

“That’s dumb.” Olivia states, very matter-of-factly, before walk-skipping away, dress flouncing around her.

Her mother looks beyond exhausted.

“Olivia!” She tuts again, calling after her in her shrill voice before turning back to Billy.

“I’m so sorry about her, Billy. I have to go get her. But it was so nice to meet you!”

And with that, she flutters away, skirt flipping around her calves as she takes tiny steps in her tiny heels along the grass.

Billy chuckles a bit. He eyes the flowers for a second before walking away, deciding against picking another one in favor of finding some kind of food to eat.

He winds up in front of a very large tray of the world’s tiniest sandwiches. He’s immediately irritated by them. He can’t pick one up in a way that feels… manly. He has to pick them up with just his fingertips or else he squishes them.

But they’re made of some kind of surprisingly hearty turkey along with some fancy tasting cheese and a little bit of crispy ultra-green lettuce and the softest white bread Billy’s ever seen… so…

He picks 3 up in one swipe and places them on the nearest empty plate he can find.

They’re disgustingly good. Like, unnaturally good. By his 5th one he wonders if maybe it’s their size that makes them taste so good. They really shouldn’t taste this good.

He nearly forgets his beer in his tiny-sandwich-stupor. He takes a swig as he grabs more tiny sandwiches. He checks his wristwatch (that Steve insisted he wear) as he shoves a sandwich in his mouth.

It’s been about 20 minutes since Steve left to go talk with his grandma.

Billy settles in, slouching over the table a bit.

A woman comes up to politely chat him up, making like she’s bored or like she was sent here on an order or something equally unbelievable. Billy just as politely turns her down.

He checks his watch. About 25 minutes since Steve left.

He takes a pull off his bottle. Turns down another woman coming by feigning extreme interest in the beer Billy’s drinking. She ends up walking away dejectedly with just a couple of sandwiches on her tiny plate.

29 minutes.

He’s on probably his tenth sandwich when a man comes up with a weird glint in his eye. He’s persistent, he’s tall, and worst of all, he’s drunk off his rocker. He leans a hand on the table, right next to where Billy’s leaning on his elbows. Billy leans back in his chair.

The man has a proposition on his tongue, hidden by the slimiest grin Billy’s ever faced.

“Hey there.” His voice is gravely. It grates on Billy’s ears. “I haven’t seen you at one of these before.”

Billy shakes his head and chews on the inside of his cheek.

“Nope. I’m a friend of someone.”

“Ah, you’re the adopted kid.” Billy’s not sure why that’s such a hot-button topic around here. He’s sure that he doesn’t like it, though.

“Yup.”

“Y’know,” the man slurs in what he must think is a hushed tone, leaning down a little further. Billy does all he can not to lean back any further away from the man’s physical advances. “I heard our Chief Jimmy Hopper is a pervert.”

It sets Billy’s skin on fire and absolutely boils his blood. He’s a kettle over the highest heat.

The man starts to laugh a real heavy, guttural laugh. Billy’s seeing red. He takes a deep breath and absent-mindedly plays with one of the fancy napkins on the table.

“You’ve got about 5 seconds to get away from me before that nose of yours gets broken.” Billy keeps his voice strong and flat and as intimidating as possible.

Billy watches in his periphery as the man moves back.

“You… what?”

Billy looks him straight in the eye.

“I didn’t stutter. Get away from me now or you’re gonna end up walking away with a broken nose.”

The man blinks hard twice before his face shifts into anger.

“Is that a threat, son?”

“It’s a promise, sir.” Billy’s face is screwed up in anger, surely red as a brick. His eyes shift over to the man’s wife on the other side of the tent. He knows it’s his wife, because she’s one of the women that came up to Billy and Steve earlier in the day. This man was with her. “Or I could always tell your wife you’re the real pervert.”

“Oh come off it-”

“It’s Marci, right?” Billy asks, leaning over so he can see past the man. He takes a deep breath to make like he’s going to call out-

“Okay, okay!” The man stops him, grabbing his forgotten glass of some dark drink off the table and taking a swig of it before leaving, muttering darkly to himself.

Billy’s disgusted. He checks his watch.

34 minutes.

Billy’s fuming. He shoves a few more sandwiches in his face and gives a mad eye to a woman who approaches him. She gives a kind, nervous smile before grabbing a piece of fruit off the plate and walking away a little quicker than she came, no words exchanged.

38 minutes.

Billy’s tapping his fingers on the table, watching everyone schmooze and laugh their twinkling little laughs and he’s gonna go mad.

A young girl walks up to him. He recognizes her from school.

She opens her mouth to speak, eyelashes fluttering so hard she could cause a hurricane, but Billy cuts her off before she gets a chance.

“No thanks, dollface.”

She looks like she’s been slapped for a second before she recovers and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.

“But I haven’t even said anything, yet.” Her voice is as mousy as her features. Billy’s so irritated he can barely see straight.

“Yeah, well you’ve got that look in your eye-”

“What look?”

“And I know you’ve got a boyfriend.”

She swallows and straightens her back out a little bit, shifting on her feet haughtily.

“Well, I could just as well not have one.”

Billy’s stare is poison. He makes sure of it.

“Yeah, and I could just as well tell Trevor that you stuffed your bra just to come over here and talk to me.”

She balks.

Billy doesn’t exactly like saying it. He doesn’t do that shit anymore and he doesn’t like to let people rile him up like this. The words feel gross and heavy on his tongue. He’s just fed up and everyone is bothering him and he feels like he’s been on display since he’s been here and… and… and these stupid tiny sandwiches and-

“Well, those shorts look idiotic on you.” She spits out at him with tight lips, like it’s an insult he actually cares about. She turns quickly on her heels and swishes away purposefully. Billy doesn’t find any atom of his body that cares.

He’s sitting there staring at the sweaty condensation that’s collected on the bottom of his beer bottle, then at the intricate pattern on the fancy napkin, then at the fancy tray holding the sandwiches, then at the face of his borrowed watch.

He’s on the last sandwich on the middle of the tiered tray when he hears someone clear their throat. He rounds on them like a bull, mouth prepping to tell them off… when he sees that soft, chocolate brown hair that (irritatingly) comforts him instantly.

“Whatcha doing, stud?” Steve’s hands are shoved in his pockets and one annoyingly nice eyebrow is raised.

Billy grumbles.

“Eating.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. These sandwiches are stupid by the way.” Billy picks a few up in one hand and flops them down on his plate. “They’re so small. Why are they so small? I hate them.”

“Uh huh. That why you’re eating them all?”

Billy gives Steve a dirty look, and makes it even harsher when he sees the boy smiling at his expense.

“Yes. The sooner I eat them all the sooner I don’t have to look at them anymore.”

Steve laughs and Billy responds to it with a growl.

“You’ve been gone almost an hour.” Billy mumbles, thumbing at the napkin in front of him again.

“You’ve been counting?”

Billy shrugs. He’s not sure what to say, so he figures saying nothing at all is best. He glances at Steve for a second, before deciding he doesn’t wanna see the boy’s smug face.

“And this what you’ve been doing while I was gone? Eating all the sandwiches?” Steve reaches out for one on the bottom tray. Billy watches with rapt attention and wants, impossibly, to grab the boy’s hand and hold it in his own. He feels a little sick to his stomach at the thought, but decides to blame it on how quickly he’s been eating.

“I also picked you a flower.” It’s out of Billy’s mouth before he can think about it.

Steve outright laughs at that, and if Billy’s face turns the same color as that sangria everyone’s drinking, he’ll kill the person who points it out. He slouches down a little further, tearing slightly at the napkin.

“You did what?”

“I picked a fucking flower for you, alright?” Billy hisses, looking his boyfriend straight in the eye this time. He’s even more mad at what he sees, which is the softest expression to ever grace this boy’s stupidly pretty face. God he wants to deck him. If he wasn’t so in love with those dumb doe eyes and that idiotic pink mouth… and his soft heart… he would really deck him.

Steve’s smile is melting Billy into a puddle.

“Really?” Steve asks on a whisper. It makes Billy itch in his skin. He looks back down at the napkin he’s slowly tearing to pieces. “Well, where is it, then?”

Billy nods his head in the direction he saw the girl last. “I gave it to a girl.”

“You gave it to a girl?”

Billy smirks at the jealousy he hears in Steve’s voice. He feels even better when he looks up and swears he sees green on the boy’s face.

“Little Olivia Blake.” He says with a smug grin. Steve visibly relaxes before laughing in on himself. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just funny you picked her.” Steve says, grabbing a few grapes from the top tier of the tray. “They’re close family friends. Her parents always joked that if they ever had a daughter, they would marry her off to me.” Steve rolls his eyes at the statement, but he’s got a fond smile on his face that twists Billy’s stomach up.

“Why would they say that?”

“They’re nutty. They own a big department store a couple of towns over, but they like to live here because it’s quiet or something. I dunno. My parents used to joke that it’d be a ‘good move’ to merge our families together. We’ve got a running gag that Olivia and I are ‘betrothed’.” Steve pops a couple of grapes in his mouth. “She gets a real kick out of it.”

“Hm.” Billy grunts, spinning his beer bottle around on itself where it sits on the table, making the tablecloth wet underneath it. A thought hits him with a smirk. “Hey, did you know Connor Blake wants to fuck me?”

“What? Connor Blake? What makes you say that?”

“Your little fiance told me he used to talk about my muscles all the time.”

Billy looks up at Steve through his lashes with a sly grin to see Steve’s face flushed red. There’s a second or two of silence between them, something light and electric in the air before they melt into helpless giggles, both dropping their heads and shaking them in disbelief. It’s a good couple of minutes of laughter between the two, and it’s the happiest Billy has felt all day.

When it’s over, Steve finally sits down.

“So uh… your grandma?” Billy asks, half his napkin torn into ribbons.

Steve nods like it’s an answer, before he seems to remember his words.

“Yeah, she wants to meet you. My mom accidentally let it slip that one of my friends is here. I think she’s kind of drunk.”

Billy’s heart takes off running, beating wildly like a bird in a cage. Most of his napkin is in shreds now. He watches Steve for a bit and notices that the boy seems just as nervous as he is… fumbling with his fingers and biting at his lip.

“So… I have to go over there?” Billy asks. Steve shakes his head.

“No, she said she’d come find us. She had to talk to someone else first.” Steve’s tapping his fingers on the table and it’s rapping on Billy’s head at the same tempo.

“Is there uh… anything I need to know about her? Before I meet her?”

Steve sighs a very tired sigh, but at least his tapping stops.

“Yeah I mean… she’s a little… crazy?” Steve says, biting at the corner of his bottom lip and rolling a grape around on a napkin. His posture is hunched and small. His eyes flicker on everything near his hands and back again. He’s nervous. It’s freaking Billy out.

He doesn’t say anything other than that. Billy figures he has to take the non-existent bait.

“Her car is pretty killer.” He says, sitting up from where he himself was slouched and leaning over the table, both arms folded as support in front of him.

Steve snorts.

“Yeah well, funny you say that…” Steve says, popping the grape in his mouth when he seems to be done uselessly playing with it. “She bought it after my grandpa passed away.”

He pauses again, for a little too long. Billy’s jumping to fill the silence with something.

“That’s not weird.”

Steve snorts again, grabbing more tiny fruits off the tray.

“ Well there was this big rumor that she killed him for his money so… she thought it was funny and wanted to play into it or something.” He eats a little piece of cantaloupe and Billy tries very hard to understand what any of Steve’s words mean. “I mean obviously she didn’t do it but, she thought other people didn’t need to know that.”

Billy’s mad at the pause now, moving to sit forward still, waiting impatiently for the end of the story.

Steve just shakes his head at his fruit with some weirdly disapproving face.

“You’re serious?”

Steve laughs a tired laugh.

“Yeah. I told you, she’s nutty. She’s also like, super into going to church. She started getting extra involved because her neighbor accused her of being friends with Satan or something? She’s really old fashioned though and has all these awful thoughts about poor people and she likes to rile people up for no reason. And she’s not very… motherly.”

Steve’s a little out of breath. Billy wants nothing more than to hold his hand.

“What side of the family is she from?”

“My mom’s side.” Steve’s a little quieter now, heavily mesmerized with the fruit in front of him. “My mom hates her. I can tell.”

Billy knows Steve’s relationship with his parents isn’t exactly cherries and ice cream, but… seeing your parents get so upset is emotionally draining. He’s felt something like that before. He used to get blamed when members of the family would reach out to Neil. It was stupid and it made Billy grow to resent any time the phone ringed.

He reaches his hand out, linking just his pinky with Steve’s restlessly tapping one. It’s a small gesture, hidden well between the tray of food and the centerpiece on the table.

Steve’s body visibly melts out of its stressed out state. When he looks up at Billy, it’s with that appreciation in his eyes that makes Billy want to kiss him harshly to get him to stop. Billy has to look away, but he grabs on tighter with his pinky and hopes with his heart to make this the least painful experience possible.

“Steven!”

Steve jumps.

He jumps nearly out of his skin and hits his knee on the table in response. He scrambles out of his seat, knocking a couple of grapes off the top tier of the tray when his hand hits it in his hurry to unlink himself with Billy, even that slightest bit.

“Steven did you have to wander off so far away?” She accuses, voice a little young on Billy’s ears for what he would expect of a grandmother. Billy feels glued to his chair, a little out of breath from the sudden fracture of the moment he was just in. Steve’s back is covering the woman from Billy’s view.

“Sorry. Hi Grammy.”

Billy hears her tut. “Stop that, we already said hello to each other. Don’t waste our time.”

“Sorry.” Steve mumbles, fingers fidgeting restlessly where he has them hidden behind his back.

Billy watches a hand grip Steve’s right arm, nails manicured just as perfectly as Mrs. Harrington’s were, but a deep red that come to a bit more of a point than Steve’s mother’s. She has rings on all fingers, each different sizes with different shiny stones embedded in them. She grips rather tight, and Billy watches Steve lean down to give one of those weird side kisses everyone has seemed to do today when they recognize someone. It’s over quick enough that Billy doesn’t get a good look at her face.

“Where’s your friend, Steven? I came over here for him, didn’t I?”

Billy’s heart jumpstarts like a car.

“Oh, yeah, Grammy, this is my friend Billy.”

Steve opens his posture up to Billy sitting behind him. He figures this is the time he should stand up.

As he does, he finds himself standing in front of a short woman. She’s got her hair smoothly styled in something Billy thinks would look fashionable for the 1950’s or 60’s rather than the 80’s. Her earrings dangle and sparkle almost blindingly, even though they’re nearly hidden from the rays of the sun. Her makeup is fairly minimal and her eyes are youthful but knowing, piercing Billy’s mind in a way that makes him feel stuck and helpless. Like she’s a black widow preying on him and his weaknesses.

She has a fur wrapped around her. Billy assumes it’s mink because that’s all he knows about furs. Her bag is rather large and unmistakably fashionable. Billy doesn’t want to stare for too long, but he swears something is moving from inside of it.

“Billy, this is my Grammy Genevieve.”

She reaches one of her manicured hands out. Billy accepts it, her hand a lot younger looking than Billy was expecting, but still showing age in a way that Mrs. Harrinton’s didn’t. When Billy leans down and gives it a kiss, it’s on instinct rather than decision.

He straightens back out to find her eyeing him curiously. Billy holds her gaze, fearful this is some test he needs to pass. Her grip gets tighter and tighter.

A few moments go by before he’s released from her grip and being given an approving look.

“Well isn’t he just as handsome as the day is long?”

Steve gives a grateful smile for a second before training his face back into something blank. When she moves to sit, both Billy and Steve go to hold the chair out.

Steve’s hand gets hit.

“Stop, let your handsome little friend here do it.”

Steve sits down with a muted nod, but he keeps his back held straight.

After Billy sits down, in a whirlwind of thoughts that he can’t pin down, he comes back to reality to find Steve’s grandma mumbling into her bag.

“What is it? What do you need?” She asks, reaching a hand in to… stroke something? It looks like she’s stroking something. “Do you need food? Water?”

Billy looks to Steve with a look he’s trying his best to keep away from ‘bewildered’, but he shouldn’t be blamed if it gets there. Steve’s still got his back rod straight, but his eyes are tired and he’s idly playing with a grape again.

“Stop fidgeting.” She chastises, again hitting the top of Steve’s hand. Steve quickly shoots his hand into his lap, nodding.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just do it.”

Steve nods, but Billy notices another apology on his lips. Billy matches Steve’s posture, back up straight, but he’s abusing the inside of his lip in his nervousness. Something about this woman freaks him out a little more than he thinks she ought to.

“Steven, get me some water, will you?”

Steve nods and steps away, leaving Billy there with the woman and her moving bag that Billy really can’t take his eyes off of. It looks like it’s breathing and Billy’s waiting for a snake to slither out or something.

“So, William.” Grandma Genevieve starts, still stroking the inside of her bag like it’s a normal gesture. She doesn’t continue what she’s saying until Billy looks up at her, making him realize she’s referring to him. Billy hasn’t been called William in… he’s not even sure he could count how long it’s been. “How are you in school?”

Horrible. My teachers hate me. They give me bad grades for no reason. I have to get my dad to rough them up to treat me fairly-

“Fine.” He lies, tongue heavy in his mouth. “Thanks.” He tacks on quickly when her eyes don’t let up.

She seems satisfied with the thank you, but she’s not letting up.

“Are you going to college when you graduate?”

No because there’s no point. Why would I? They’re just going to drain all the money I don’t have and it’s not like I have enough potential to actually make it there, let alone make it through-

“I don’t graduate until next year.” Billy offers.

“That’s not what I asked.” She stands firm, fixing him with a look that makes him want to apologize, too.

“Uhm-”

“Don’t stutter. Speak clearly.”

“No.” He says quickly and honestly. He can’t lie with her looking at him like that. He feels like he’s been cornered.

She lifts a single eyebrow, the look in her eyes entirely disapproving.

“Hmph.” She says, looking down into her purse like he isn’t worth looking at. It makes his chest boil with something less than anger; something that makes him want to apologize again. “That’s a little foolish. What do you plan on doing?”

Billy doesn’t even fully register the insult of being called foolish.

“I don’t need college to go into a trade.”

“What trade?” She asks, voice dripping with what Billy thinks must be venom. He’s more than half expecting that snake to come out soon.

“Auto Body work. Mechanic work.” Billy speaks in stuccatto. He really can’t help it. “I like cars.”

She looks back up at him, eyeing him up and down in the most brutal evaluation Billy thinks he’s ever been given. He feels frightened in a way that feels entirely new.

It’s a few moments of that- a few too many moments.

“Hmph.” She huffs out again. “I see.”

She’s still pinning him down with a stare, but after a few more seconds of silent judgement, it’s over. Her gaze is a little softer at the end, but it may be a trick of the light. Billy’s just glad it’s over.

Steve is speaking before Billy even notices his presence.

“Here you go, Grammy.”

“Thank you, Steven.” She says, taking hold of the clear bowl holding water inside of it. She places it in front of her and moves her bag closer to the edge of her lap, just resting on her knees.

Steve sits and sighs a bit, getting Billy’s attention. His eyes are apologetic and his mouth twists up in a way that lets Billy know he’s asking if he’s okay. Billy nods, eyebrows furrowing a little to prove it. His heart is beating wildly, but he’s sure Steve can probably tell.

In the corner of his eye, something flesh colored and… rat like slowly rises out of the woman’s purse.

He snaps his head towards it, nearly jumping.

It’s… it’s a cat. It’s a naked cat.

It leans forward, slowly and gracefully, to lick up the water in front of it.

“There you go, Cleo.” The woman mumbles, stroking the cat’s head once again. It gives a croaky meow as a response in between it’s licks.

Billy can’t stop staring. He’s never in his life seen a naked cat before. It has wrinkles and folds that go on forever.

Why does she carry this thing in her bag-?

“So William,” The woman says diplomatically, again not continuing until Billy gives her his undivided attention. “Are you the reason my grandson looks like a beatnik?”

“Grammy-”

“Enough, Steven, I wasn’t speaking to you.”

Steve hangs his head, looking to the left of him, possibly staring out at the flowers.

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.”

“Your hair is outrageously long for a young man.” She states plainly, still stroking her cat’s head.

A little fire starts in Billy’s chest.

“I didn’t tell Steve to grow his hair out. If he did it by himself, that’s his business.”

Steve’s head whips around so quickly Billy’s sure his neck must be sore, but Billy doesn’t break eye contact with the woman.

She’s eyeing him harshly again, mouth twisted up like she’s tasted something bitter. They stare at each other for a few moments, but there’s a lot less fear in Billy’s chest now. He’s right and he knows it. He shouldn’t have to sugar coat things for this woman who obviously doesn’t sugar coat things back.

The distaste on her lips twists into a smirk, Billy’s sure of it. He doesn’t get too hopeful though. She looks back down at her cat.

“Hmph. Alright.”

She doesn’t say anything after that. Billy’s not sure why, but he feels pretty safely like he’s won something indescribable.

He’s overwhelmed with the need to take a piss.

“Steve.” Billy says clearly, looking at his boyfriend who’s eyeing him owlishly- like he’s shocked.

“Yeah?” Steve answers, shoulders shaking a bit.

“Can you show me where the bathroom is?” He’s sure to be as concise as possible in front of this woman.

“Yeah. Uhm, excuse us, Grammy.”

She waves a manicured hand in the air.

“You’re free to go.” She says dismissively before mumbling to her cat.

The two boys, for as cool as they typically are, jump out of their chairs a little less than smoothly.

They don’t speak until they get to the building that houses the bathroom.

“Holy shit, Billy, how did you do that?”

They’re out of breath, both from rushing to the building and from the tense exchange they just shared.

“Do what?”

“Get her to like you?”

“She likes me?” Billy tries his hardest not to sound so shocked, but it’s difficult.

“I think so.” Steve admits, looking back at the tents even though they’re much too far away from them to see her from here. “What did you talk about while I was gone?”

Billy catches his breath.

“College. What I’m gonna do after school.”

Billy doesn’t even have to say what she said for Steve to look sorry.

“God. I’m sorry about her.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, she’s so… she’s so harsh.”

“It’s fine, Steve.”

“It’s not, I can’t even imagine what she said-”

“Steve.” Billy grabs Steve’s hands, which are reaching up to rake through his hair again. “Shut up. Stop worrying. It’s fine.”

Steve’s eyes are wide and nervous, his hands shaking slightly, his lips worked over by his teeth.

He melts.

“Yeah… yeah okay.”

“I love you.” Billy mumbles it out before he even thinks about it. They’ve said it a few times before, but every time feels like shots of electricity shooting up through Billy’s bones. It makes Steve start to shake a bit again.

But his eyes soften, the skin around his forehead relaxes, he looks a little more peaceful and that’s what Billy wants.

“I love you too.” Steve whispers.

They separate quickly, even though they’re far away from anyone that could see them. Better safe than sorry.

They take their time to be quiet for a second while they’re both in the bathroom, letting the water of the sink drown out the silence between them. Billy’s mind is swimming with so many things they don’t slot correctly in his mind. He’s trying desperately to make sense of anything through his still-present nerves.

As they’re walking out, he just says the first thing on his mind.

“So are you really gonna marry that little eleven year old?”

It slips out of his mouth like a piece of gum when he tries and fails to blow a bubble. It feels stupid. It’s all he could think to say.

Steve shoves his hands in his pockets but doesn’t say anything for a second. Billy turns to see his mouth moving around a smug little smirk.

“Are you gonna fuck Connor Blake?” Steve asks by way of response. It hits Billy’s chest.

“What? No.” Billy’s adamant, annoyed that he didn’t get an answer. “Why would you ask that?”

Steve shrugs with a chuckle. “I dunno, I thought we were asking stupid questions.”

Billy chest unwinds. He laughs. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Just asking.”

Steve shakes his head, but Billy doesn’t look up to see it.

“How’d you even meet her?”

Billy shrugs. “She came up to me when I was picking a flower for you.”

Steve grabs Billy’s arm to get him to stop. They’re close to the tents now, but the gesture isn’t too suspicious.

“Are you serious about that? Did you actually pick a flower for me?”

Billy’s face blooms red as blood rushes to it. “Yeah, I told you.” He wants to fidget. His shirt feels too tight again.

Steve smiles.

“You’re a sap.”

“Shut up.” Billy hisses, ripping his arm away. His face won’t stop blushing. “I just… I love you.”

Billy’s mumbling now, his head down. Steve clicks his tongue.

“Awww…” Steve coos quietly, and Billy doesn’t need to look at him to see the irritating smirk on his face. He looks up anyway, just to glare at him.

“Whatever. You know I love you. How many times do I have to say it?”

Steve’s smug and Billy swears he could slap that look off his face if he didn’t care about him so much.

“I dunno. A few times a day would be nice.”

Billy rolls his eyes. He’s gonna say something, but suddenly there’s a synth song overtaking the previous synth song. Steve gasps.

“I love this song!” He hits Billy’s arm.

“All this music is awful-”

“Shut up!” Steve hits Billy’s arm again. “This song is good!”

Billy listens a little closer to the rhythm of the synth. It sounds like “Is This Love” by Survivor. Joyce likes to listen to this song with Hop sometimes when it comes on the radio. It’s kind of gross, honestly.

“Aw,” Steve coos again, watching the pretty little fancy couples on the make-shift dance floor in between two of the tents, out in the sun. “I wish we could dance. Is that stupid? That’s stupid. Sorry-”

Billy rolls his eyes as his boyfriend babbles next to him. He does a quick scan of what they can see, and decides something without much thought. Maybe it’s the singing that picks up that pushes Billy’s heart.

~I’ve heard talk of blind devotion…~

“Go ask Olivia.”

Steve turns with confused but earnest eyes.

“Huh?”

“Go ask Olivia to dance.”

“But why-?”

“Just go. You’ll see why.”

~Faithful to the bitter end…~

Steve still looks confused, but Billy shoves into his shoulder to get him going.

“Go! Trust me.”

Steve eyes him still, but he goes to find Olivia, who’s off sulking in a chair in the corner of one of the canopy-tents.

Billy watches Steve walk away fondly before taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. He takes a few breaths as he walks towards his target, psyching himself up, striking up his confidence…

“Grandma Genevieve?” Billy asks, making sure his voice is clear and free of any shakes. She’s sitting alone, thankfully.

She looks up with her piercing eyes, an eyebrow raised. That’s all she gives him.

“May I have this dance?”

Her clear eyes pierce him for a second, the song striking Billy in the chest, making him feel vulnerable.

She looks down at the cat still in her lap, before looking back up at Billy.

“Please?” He asks, not taking his eyes off of hers, even if he wants to know where Steve is and how far he’s gotten at convincing the other girl to follow him to the dance floor.

There’s another beat of silence, another line of the song hitting Billy hard, before she gives a smirk that lets him know maybe she really does like him.

She takes his hand and stands, before slipping her bag off her shoulder and shoving it into the chest of a free-handed waiter walking by.

“Watch my child Cleo for me.” She states plainly, like it’s not a request. The young waiter’s eyes go wide as the cat peeks it’s head out and croaks a meow in his face. “If anything happens to her, you’ll be fired by the end of the day.”

She says it with a smile before Billy escorts her to the dance floor.

He turns his head and immediately sees Steve walking next to him, being pulled onto the dance floor by Olivia.

~I need to prove to myself this is more than a crush…~

The two boys lock eyes, Steve laughing a bit, Billy smiling easily.

~Can you convince me it’s not just a physical rush…~

Billy grabs Grandma Genevieve’s hands in his, interlocking their fingers, and begins stepping side to side. He watches her face for a second, and sees, surprisingly, something that looks like uncertainty. She’s watching their feet like she’s unsure of what they’re doing.

Billy chuckles a bit. She squeezes his hands so tight they hurt a little bit, and she sends him a glare to match. She must have heard him chuckling.

“Don’t laugh at me.” She chastises, before looking back down at their feet.

Billy keeps stepping side to side along to the beat as he looks up to find Steve, who’s dancing right behind his grandmother and facing Billy. They lock eyes over their partners. They’re swaying almost in time with each other. It’s like they’re dancing with each other.

~Is this love that I’m feeling? Is this love…~

Billy gives a little kissy face in Steve’s direction. Steve rolls his eyes and looks back down at his own partner, who’s currently standing on his feet with her own little ones as they dance.

Billy looks back down at Grandma Genevieve, who’s very clearly struggling.

“You’re doing well.” Billy tries to assure her. Her face twists up.

“I haven’t danced with anyone in a long time.” She admits quietly. Billy’s shocked to hear it.

“Well, there’s not much to it.”

He leads the way, stepping the two of them back and forth to the beat. She seems to relax a bit at the words and it hits Billy’s chest with pride.

There’s a very girlish giggle that snaps Billy back up to Steve, who’s swaying a little more forcefully now with his eleven year old partner in tow. He looks up at Billy and their eyes lock again.

They’re connected in an instant. The distance doesn’t matter.

~Now look me straight in the eye ‘cause tonight is the night…~

Billy’s heart is beating so rapidly he’s worried Grandma Genevieve will hear. Steve is looking at him like he loves him. Like he really loves every bit and piece of him. Like he’ll never have to say it, never have to be asked again, it’s just a known fact of the world now. Steve Harrington is in love with Billy Hargrove and nothing is going to change that fact. It clings them together, to the point that Billy feels like he could be pressed to Steve’s chest right now, even though there’s several feet of distance between them.

~We’ve got to ask each other if the moment is right…~

Billy could melt onto the floor right now in a puddle. He feels ridiculous but he’s fine with that. He’s never been so into someone and he’s fine with that, too. He’s fine if he gets to see Steve’s eyes before he falls flat on his face in love. He’s fine if he gets to see that gorgeous smile forever and ever.

The chorus picks up again, singing loudly as Olivia swings Steve away, spinning them into an uncontrollable circle of smiles and giggles.

~Is this love that I’m feeling?~

The song sings as Steve and Olivia spin in a tornado of pastel colors, storming around the dance floor like a couple of children.

Grandma Genevieve laughs. It catches Billy off guard and makes him tear his face away from Steve and all his beauty.

“Do you wanna spin too?” He asks.

“Spin me and I rip that curly hair of yours out.” She promises, gripping his hands tight again.

The threat of it makes Billy laugh.

They dance out the rest of the song, but after it Grandma Genevieve is tired and Olivia’s mother is chastising her for causing a ruckus.

Billy sits down with Steve’s grandmother for a second, watching Steve intently as he speaks with Olivia.

He laughs as he sees the girl grab the flower Billy picked and give it to Steve, waving the boy down to her level so she can kiss his cheek and run away with a giggling, red face.

Steve watches her, laughing, before looking down at the flower with a kind of intent that Billy can see from yards away.

Grandma Genevieve is still worrying over her cat by the time Steve makes his way over.

“Hi Billy. Hi Grammy.”

“Steven, you made a fool of yourself.” She says immediately, without even looking up at him.

It smacks Billy hard in the chest, and he can only imagine what it must do to Steve. The two boys watch her, shocked at the harsh words.

She looks up at him, a rare smile wide on her face.

“It was rather charming.” She admits. Steve releases a breath, about to say something, before his grandma hits him lightly. “But don’t do it again.”

“Yes, Grammy.” Steve says obediently, with a small, disobedient smile on his face. Billy chuckles a bit at it.

“Well, it’s been a lovely afternoon, but I need to get going.” The woman stands up, accepting Steve’s help as he reaches a hand out to her. Billy stands as she does, and moves next to Steve.

The look she gives the two almost makes him nervous again; it’s harsh and judging and almost dissatisfied.

“Steven.”

“Yes, Grammy?”

She shifts a hard look over at Billy. He does his absolute best to keep her eye contact and stand as straight as possible. It makes him uncomfortable, even with all of the practice he got of standing at attention in his youth.

Her eyes shift back to Steve.

“I like this boy.” She says plainly, and something about it immediately lifts the heaviest weight off of Billy’s chest. “He’s honest and he’s practical and he’s brave. And he’s definitely handsome.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Billy sighs out a bit. She waves a hand dismissively at him, telling him it was unnecessary before she turns back to Steve.

“Tell your mother I need that paperwork in the next 3 days, got it?” She pats Steve’s arm harshly and pulls him in for a light kiss on the cheek before turning to leave without getting a response. Billy’s not sure what she means, but he’s not even going to think about asking.

The two boys stay right where they are, rod straight, watching her walk away. It’s not until she’s a few yards out that they let out a collective breath.

“She likes you.” Steve says with amazement.

“Yeah… Guess so.”

There’s silence between them for a second, some Journey song playing in the background. A slight flash of purple hits Billy’s periphery.

“Hey by the way,” Steve starts, voice playfully wistful. “Thanks for the flower.”

Steve’s got a sly grin on his face. Billy looks over at the purpleish-reddish petals twirling delicately on top of the stem in Steve’s fingertips. The smile he gives in response is involuntary.

“You’re welcome, babe.” He says quietly, chest alight with love and love and a little bit of love and maybe a dash of love... just for good measure.

And if Billy smiles every time he hears “Is This Love” by Survivor from now on… well he doesn’t see a need to explain why.

[jamesbuchananxsteviegrant]

A Soul For A Soul | Bucky x Steve x Reader (Angst)

Category: Angst (Suggested) Age: 16+ Trigger Warnings: Panic attack, death, suicide implied, funeral Ship: Bucky x Steve x Reader Summary: Reader Dies When Collecting The Soul Stone With Steve, And Bucky Finds Out In The Final Battle Against Thanos Request: “I’m back w an Endgame request! Maybe one stuckyxreader where instead of Nat and Clint collecting the soul stone is Steve and reader. They both fight like Nat and Clint did and reader does the sacrifice. So when the fallen ones start appearing in the battle, Bucky searches for both of them only to find out at the end of it that reader is gone. (My baby Nat deserved to be in THAT scene with all the MCU women, just sayin)” Contains Spoilers for: Avengers: Infinity War, Avengers: Endgame Word Count: 3,412

---

“It’s kind of exciting that we’re on another planet.” (Y/N) comments, eyes darting around her surroundings with excitement.

Steve chuckles and nods, squeezing her hand as they climb the rocks up to where they need to me.

“Never a dull day, huh?” He agrees.

“Are we definitely going to find the stone?” The girl’s voice asks and Steve turns to face her.

“We have to.”

(Y/N) nods.

“I’ll do anything to get him back, Stevie.” She whispers.

The man leans in and presses his lips to her own.

“I know, sweetheart, and we will, okay?”

She forces a smile and nods.

“Welcome, Steve, son of Joseph. (Y/N), daughter of (F/N).” A voice greets as the pair, Steve’s eyes widening as he meets his past enemy.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks, shield naturally reaching out to cover (Y/N).

“A lifetime ago, I sought the stones. I even held one in my hand, but it cast me out. Banished me here, guiding others to a treasure I cannot possess.” The man, Red Skull, explains, not becoming hostile in the slightest which baffles the blond.

“Where is the Soul Stone?” (Y/N) speaks up.

“You should know it extracts a terrible price.” The man informs, only annoying the woman more, not wanting to waste time when she needs to get Bucky back.

“I don’t care! Just tell us where it is!”

“We all claim that we don’t care at first. We are wrong.” His calm voice continues to provoke the emotional girl.

“Please, just tell us where the stone is. What’s the price? What do we need to do to get it?” Steve asks, lowering his defensive stance and taking a deep breath.

“Come.” Red Skull states, leading the pair to the cliff, both of them tentative as they near the edge.

“What is this?” Cap questions, taking a few more steps forwards and looking over the edge.

“What you seek lies in front of you. As does what you fear.”

(Y/N) reaches out and keeps a hold on Steve’s hand, making sure he doesn’t slip.

“What’s down there?” She asks, too scared to near the edge herself.

“Nothing. Just rocks.” The blond murmurs, stepping back and looking at Red Skull.

“What’s this?”

“The price. Soul holds a special place among the Infinity Stones. You might say it is a certain wisdom.” Red Skull’s voice remains calm. Recited. He’s done this hundreds of times now. Probably even thousands.

“What’s the price? What does it need?” (Y/N)’s voice is growing confidence.

“To ensure that whoever possesses it understands its power, the stone demands a sacrifice.”

The couple both furrow their brows at his words.

“Of what?” Steve quizzes.

“In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love. A soul for a soul.” He pauses. “A permanent fix. Nothing you do could change it.”  

Their eyes widen and jaws drop. No. This can’t be… This isn’t… But it is. And they know that. This is real and they’re on a time limit. They need this stone in order to save the whole God-damn world.

“Steve…”

Cap turns around and meets the teary gaze of his girlfriend, but also sees the forced smile on her face which tells him everything he needs to know.

“No. No way. Not a chance in living hell.” He states, voice certain and almost aggressive, but not at her. Never at her.

“Stevie, you know there’s no other way. We don’t have a choice.” She whispers, giving him a look that is the same as when he has a nightmare about losing her. When he wakes up and sees her solemn smile. “It’ll be okay.”

“No. No, no, no, (Y/N), you- I- fuck, I can’t!”

The man has fully turned around to face her now, hands gripping her wrists as he holds them up to his face, lips occasionally pressing against her hands.

“You can, Steve. You can. You and I both know that you can’t be the one to sacrifice yourself. You’re Captain America. You’re needed for this world, but I can do this. I can finally do something that changes the world. I told you when we came here, Steve, that I would do anything to get him back, and I will.” Her voice is trembling as the tears stream down her face, Steve unable to hide his own tears.

He’s speechless. Captain America is speechless for the second time in his life. The first being when he lost Bucky.

“What am I meant to do, (Y/N)?” He whispers, now holding her hands as he meets her stare.

“You look after yourself and Bucky and you continue saving the world, Cap.” (Y/N) smiles. “You win this fight for us. For me. Make my trip to the other side worth while, yeah? You bring back our soldier.”

The sob that rips from his throat makes the girl replicate it, yanking her hands from his grip and embracing him as tight as she can. Steve reaches down and lifts the girl up into his arms, allowing her legs to wrap around his waist and arms go around his neck, head tucked in the crook of his neck and shoulder, crying.

“I can’t do this. I can’t just let you die.”

“You’re not letting me die, we’re saving the world.” She pulls back and rests both hands on either side of his tear-stained face.

Steve leans forward and presses his lips to her own in the most intense kiss either of them have ever experienced. A lot of desperation. His grip on her is almost painfully tight but she doesn’t care. He needs this. She needs this.

“I love you, Steven Grant Rogers.” She mumbles between kisses. He sobs again and nods.

“I love you too, (Y/N) (M/N) (L/N). I love you so fucking much.” His voice is just cries at this point.

“Come on, we have no time.”

(Y/N) unlatches her legs from his body and rests her feet back on the ground.

“Please. Please, I can’t- I can’t.” He gasps. The woman forces her own emotion to calm down for a moment as she realises Steve’s borderline having a panic attack.

“Stevie, baby, calm down. Deep breaths for me, it’s okay. Calm down for me, I need you to stay calm.” The woman soothes, managing to calm him before it got worse. “You’re going to be okay.”

“I can’t lose you both. Please, I can’t.” He sounds like that young boy back in Brooklyn all over again and it tears her apart.

“You’re going to save our Bucky, okay? You’ve gotta be alone for a small amount of time but you’re going to save him. It’ll be worth it all, I promise. You’re going to win for us.”  

The man gulps and takes a deep breath.

“This is my worst nightmare, you know?” He whispers, raising his hands to rest on her face, holding it as she did him. (Y/N) nods, lips trembling.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Never apologise, sweetheart. Never apologise.” His voice is trying to remain calm.

They bask in a few moments silence, simply staring into the depths of each others eyes, visualising every memory.

“There’s so much I want to say.” Steve mutters, hands stroking over her face, remembering every detail.

“Not enough time. You’ll have to say it all to Bucky instead, I’m sure he’ll listen.” (Y/N) smiles.

Suddenly widening his eyes, Steve reaches into one of the minimal pockets in his suit and pulls out a small box, dropping to one knee in front of her and opening it up. (Y/N)’s jaw drops as she realises what’s happening.

“I was meant to do this with Buck but he’d never forgive me if I didn’t when it was my last chance. Neither would I. (Y/N) (L/N), will you do Bucky and I the honour of becoming our wife?” His voice favours at the end and more tears overspill but he remains strong. The girl nods, frantically, sobbing when Steve takes her hand and slides the ring onto the appropriate finger.

“Kiss me, Rogers.” She whimpers, the blond complying and standing back up, pulling her in for a deep kiss. “I’ve got to go.”

The pair approach the edge and she looks down, Steve gripping her hand tightly. She gulps.

“I’ve always had a shitty fear of heights.” She forces a chuckle as she turns to look back at Steve, her feet at the edge but her body facing her lover.

“I blame Tony.” Steve also manages a faux chuckle.

“Hey, Stevie?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” His voice is shaking.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

A sob rips from his throat once again, clenching his eyes shut before reopening them, not wanting to forget every detail of her face.

“How can I?” He pauses, not wanting to finish the sentence. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

(Y/N) grins and lightly pulls the man’s hand up, kissing his knuckles.

“This is gonna work, Stevie.” She promises.

“I know it is, ‘cause I don’t know what I’m going to do if it doesn’t.” He responds, taking a deep breath. They pause, knowing this is it.

“I love you, Steve Rogers.”

“I love you too, (Y/N) (L/N). Bucky loves you too.”

“Tell James Buchanan Barnes that he’s not a monster. He’s the love of my life.”

The blond nods.

“I promise.”

“See you in another life, Cap.”

“I love you.” Is all Steve can manage. “Let me kiss you again. Please. One more time.” He adds, voice quick, holding her hands as tight as possible.

(Y/N) smiles and nods, the pair embracing a passionate kiss. (Y/N) shakily rests her palms on Cap’s chest and prepares herself for what’s next, and just when he loosens his grip, she pushes him backward, using the force to knock herself backward off of the edge also.

“NO!” The blond screams, reaching out effortlessly for the woman he’s never going to see again. And then nothing. Next thing he knows is he’s waking up in a lake of sorts, glancing around with confusion.

The feeling of something in his hand prompts him to look at it, and the orange stone glowing back at him makes him tear up all over again. Just as he stands up on wobbly legs, he’s transported back to present day.

“Did everyone do it?” Tony asks instantly, everyone nodding and celebrating the fact they all got their stones in time, whilst Steve remains still, staring blankly ahead.

Unable to hold himself up, the man drops to his knees. This catches everyone attention and there’s a sudden silence.

“Steve?” Nat questions, eyebrows furrowed.

“Steve, where’s (Y/N)?” Tony adds. That’s when the sob rips from Steve’s throat once more.

“Oh my God…” Bruce whispers, coming to the only answer.

Everyone in the room knows that Steve would’ve done anything and everything in his power to protect that woman and yet he doesn’t have a scratch on his body.

“Steve…” Tony murmurs, stepping forward and crouching in front of his friend. The blond shakes his head and looks up to meet the billionaire’s worried stare.

He opens his hand out and hands the orange stone to the man.

“A price had to be paid for the Soul Stone.” Steve whispers. “A sacrifice. A soul for a soul. Someone you love.”

“Oh my God…” Scott murmurs.

“We’ll get her ba-“

“You can’t.” Cap shakes his head, interrupting Iron Man. “It’s a permanent sacrifice. Nothing we do will change it.”

A sudden rush of emotions runs through the blond and he stares at Tony and Scott.

“This better fucking work. She died to save this world, and especially him.”

Nobody needs to ask who he’s talking about. They know.

“It will.” Tony promises.

///

Steve can barely breathe. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s exhausted. Mentally and physically. Feels like he’s about to collapse. He wants to give up but he can’t. He can’t. She’d kick his ass if he gave up now. But what is he meant to do?

“Cap, you hear me?” He suddenly hears through his ear piece, eyes widening as he recognises the voice he hasn’t heard in so long.

He glances around, confused. Hopeful. Oh, how he’s missed feeling that.

“Cap, it’s Sam. Can you hear me?” There’s a pause as Steve’s body almost trembles with anticipation, not daring to speak. “On your left.”

The grin in the man’s voice can be heard and that’s when the blond sees those all-too-familiar wings whiz past him. He turns back around, looking for where he came from, and widens his eyes when he sees the crazy number of portals being created and every person from that fight comes walking through.

He feels the happiness rushing through him, but his eyes are after one person and one person only. Almost as if he can sense the man’s distress, Sam speaks up again.

“Don’t worry, Cap. We’ve got him.”

And that’s when the brunet walks through. One timeline to another, a half-smirk on his face as he meets the gobsmacked stare of Steve who’s across the field.

“Buck…” The blond whispers, voice washed away by the wind, but the soldier knows.

Steve can feel the adrenaline running through him. He’s here. He’s here. Bucky can sense that his lover really isn’t okay and begins striding toward him, the blond’s trembling legs managing to walk a few steps also.

The Winter Soldier has to practically catch the man as he drops to his knees.

“Woah, I’ve got you, Steve. I’ve got you.” He murmurs, lowering them both onto the ground.

They know they have a few minutes as everyone arrives through the portals.

“I’m here, it’s okay. I’m okay, we’re okay.” Bucky soothes, remove the man’s helmet and getting a proper look at his face, seeing the tears overflowing. “Fuck, Stevie. It’s okay. It’s all okay now.”

Steve is right there all over again. On that God damn cliff, sobbing his eyes out. He can’t breathe. He’s shaking and tears are falling but he can’t focus. 

This is all he wanted, isn’t it? James Barnes back in his arms? Holding him and loving him? Just having him back alive was all he wanted, so why can’t he breathe? 

Because he knows what’s coming.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, look at me!” The Winter Soldier’s voice sounds a thousand miles away and the brunet is quite honestly more traumatised at the fact that Steve is having a full blown panic attack than when he was dusted away. “Steve, Steve, come on, baby, look at me, I need you to calm down and breathe for me, baby.” He attempts, managing to kneel down along with the blond. He grasps his face between his hands and stares into his eyes, hoping to get him grounded. 

Steve meets those blue eyes he’s been missing for five years and he knows he has to focus on them. He’s missed them too much. 

“Buck,” 

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Steve, it’s okay, I’m right here.” Bucky murmurs, caressing the man’s skin and helping him breathe. “Just focus on taking deep breaths for me.” 

Eventually, the world all starts making a bit more sense and Steve acknowledges the worried gazes of Sam, Wanda, T’Challa and the others around them. Close enough to help out if needed but not invading his privacy. 

Tony, Clint, Thor and the others are also watching but with an expression that also shows they’re nor ready for what follows. 

“You okay?” Bucky whispers, still concerned that his partner had the biggest panic attack he’d seen since the nineteen-hundreds. 

Steve doesn’t respond, he moves his gaze from Bucky to Tony as if silently questioning what to do. 

“Stevie, we’re gonna be okay. One last fight, okay?” 

Still no response but the blond does move his gaze back to Bucky’s.

“We’ll be okay. I’m not leaving you again.” He whispers, and that does get a faint smile on Cap’s face, only for a second at best. “Okay?” 

A deep breath followed by a small nod is all Steve can manage. 

“Good.” Bucky smiles, leaning in to kiss the man’s lips.

When the man pulls back, his head looks around him at the team members who were left behind on Earth. Looking for something. Someone. 

Steve is trembling all over again, eyes clenching shut. It truly breaks Tony’s heart to watch, not that he’d ever admit it. He’s never seen Captain America look so… vulnerable. 

“Where’s our baby doll?” 

The way it sounded so nonchalant when it came from his lips is what makes Steve lose it once again. The brunet has no idea. He’s asking as if he’s just come back from training and (Y/N) isn’t in the bed because she’s showering. No concern. No realisation. Just curiosity. 

Bucky’s eyes lock onto Tony’s and the billionaire takes a deep breath, realising that Steve might not be able to actually say it.

“James, look,” The fact that he used Bucky’s first name instead of Barnes is already red flag number one for the soldier. 

Sam’s eyebrows are furrowed as he too watches the interaction, also curious as to where his best friend is. 

Bucky can feel Steve’s breathing pick up again and his head snaps down to his lover, face contorting as some not-so-pretty images come to his head. 

“Can someone please hurry up and tell me what’s going on because I’m thinking of some really bad, unrealistic-“

“She’s gone.” The words come from Steve’s mouth in a desperate sob, hands gripping onto Bucky’s forearms. 

The words make the brunet’s blood drain from his face. No. He refuses to believe that statement. 

He’s speechless for a moment before looking up at the grief-ridden faces of his friends who’ve been on Earth this whole time. 

“No,” It’s a whisper and can barely be heard as the portals around them are still being formed. 

Tony sighs and steps forward, crouching down beside the two super soldiers. His arm reaching up and firmly resting on Bucky’s shoulder, looking him dead in the eye for the first time in years without hatred. 

“We had to go back in time to save you guys,” He begins, gesturing to everyone coming out of Strange’s portals. 

Bucky doesn’t speak, simply stares at Iron Man and waits for an explanation. 

“We all split up to collect the Soul Stones from different points in time. (Y/N) and Steve went together to get the Soul Stone,” 

Even Tony has to stop to close his eyes and not get emotional. The woman was like a sister to him.

“What we didn’t know is that the Soul Stone required the sacrifice of another soul.” 

The Winter Soldier’s expression continuously contorts as he comes to more and more realisations. 

“No…”

“There was no other option and there was no way of changing it.” 

The sob that rips from Steve’s lips again at those words makes Bucky’s head snap around to face him yet again, seeing his lost composure and realising that this is all-too-real and all-too-true.

He feels his own heartbeat pick up at that and grips Steve a little tighter to ground himself. 

“With all due respect,” Strange’s voice catches everyones attention and he has a guilty look on his face. “Forgive me, truly, but we have no time.” 

The realisation that Thanos is still ready to ruin this world is there. 

Gulping, Bucky lifts Steve’s face and presses his lips against his, firmly, as if it were to be the last time. 

“She sacrificed her life to save yours, Barnes, and she would never regret that. You have to know that much.” He thinks it’s Clint’s voice that says it but he doesn’t respond. 

“Then we better not let it go to waste, huh, Stevie?”

The blond looks up and sees how Bucky is absolutely cracking inside but is still trying to be strong for all of them. 

“Let’s kill this bastard for good, yeah?” 

Steve takes a deep breath and manages a nod, standing back up on shaky legs with the help of Bucky. 

“Steve, James,” Tony begins.

“Please, Tony, it’s Bucky.” The brunet corrects, forcing a smile at the man who he doesn’t deserve to fight alongside. 

Iron Man forces a smile and nods himself. 

“Steve, Bucky, we fought and we lost, we fought again and we lost again, but we saved as well. We sacrificed, and we need to finish the job off.” 

“We owe it to everyone who’s not here to finish it.” Nat’s voice rings, catching both soldiers’ attention. “She didn’t die for us to lose.” 

It’s blunt but it’s true. 

“Steve,” The blond looks up at Sam, yet another friend he lost and he’s smiling again. 

The Falcon holds his hand out that is holding the shield. 

“Thank you.” 

Sam nods but is also crying. 

Everyone slowly turns as Steve does to face the oncoming storm. They line up, Steve looking behind him and admiring everyone who is supporting this fight. Her fight.

“You ready, Cap?” Tony asks, standing on the other side of the blond to Bucky. Steve only nods. 

“AVENGERS…” 

A thousand thoughts flash through his head in that very second, every one of them leading back to her smile. Her fight.

“Assemble.” 

///

The world is quiet. Peaceful. Time passing by as the two men stare at the water, sitting on the grass. Side-by-side. Hand-in-hand. Everyone had already left the funeral. Her funeral. 

“She told me to pass on a message.” Steve whispers, not breaking his gaze from the water.

Bucky hums in acknowledgement.

“She said that you’re not a monster, you’re the love of her life.” He adds, feeling the brunet tighten his grip on his hand.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” The Winter Soldier whispers, finally turning to look at Steve.

They’re both in their black suits, it’s probably been hours now since the funeral ended, but they need this.

“Wasn’t your fault.” Steve mutters.

“How was she?”

Cap pauses, taking a deep breath, before looking back at the man.

“So brave.” He forces a smile. “She hates heights, you know? Had to fall back off the edge and she did. Even calmed me down from a panic attack I was having.”

Buck nods and tears well up in his eyes.

“I don’t know if I can do this without her, Steve.”

The blond wants nothing more than to tell his boyfriend that it’ll be alright. Promise they’ll work it out. But he himself doesn’t know if he can do it either. They were a trio. They needed each other, and now there’s a missing link. A hole in a boat made up of three parts. There’s no saving it.

Steve chooses not to respond, only tightening his grip on Bucky’s hand.

“I proposed.”

Buck’s eyes widen.

“I hope you don’t mind. I felt like I needed to. It was then or never. I needed her to know that she was it for us. She was everything. She was our future.”

Cries come out the brunet’s lips and he nods.

“Thank you.”

The Captain looks at him and forces a smile, nodding.

///

It was just under a month later when Sam and Nat were sat side-by-side on the grass. Staring at the water. It was beautiful. Another day, another funeral. Their funeral.

“Do you think they’re happy?” Sam asks, watching the woman nod.

“They couldn’t continue living in a world without her. Steve had already lost Peggy and barely managed. He couldn’t do it again, and I know Bucky couldn’t either.” Nat tells him.

They remain in their silence. Basking in the fact that they’re now in a world without the two super soldiers and their girl.

“I found this.” The woman whispers, catching the Sam’s attention. He sees an envelope in her hand and raises a brow. “It’s Steve’s shitty writing.”

That gets a small chuckle out of him and he nods, opening it and reading the small but important message.

I left something under (Y/N)’s bed. Look after it.

He’s on his feet in an instant and making a run to his car, Nat not moving. She could guess.

He doesn’t give a damn about the speed limits in that moment, simply pulling up at the tower and riding in the elevator to their floor, getting to (Y/N)’s room.

“FRIDAY, can you let me in to (Y/N)’s room?” He calls.

“Of course, Mister Wilson.” The AI responds, the door unlocking and the man dashing inside, instantly dropping to his knees and pulling out the large, heavy, round, black bag. Case.

His eyes widen as he suspects what it could be, but daren’t assume. But when he unzips it and sees that shiny red, blue and silver, his heart starts beating at a thousand miles a minute.

“I knew it.” A voice mumbles, catching Falcon’s attention. Bruce stood at the doorway with a smile.

“I don’t think…” Sam trails off.

“Trust me, it’s yours.” He smiles, watching the man stroke over the metal with a gob smacked expression. “They talked about it.” Bruce adds. “All three of them. Confirmed that they’d choose you.”

Tears well up in Sam’s eyes and he nods.

“I’ll make sure it’s worth it.”

“I’d expect no less… Captain Wilson.”

[pokeshippingflashfic]

A very strange request I know but I try: Ash mentions Misty to Serena&Co and she gets jealous. That night due to, boh, some magic she “revives”, almost like a spirit, 5moments of Ash when he travelled w/Misty (one of the moments please when he wakes up in The Tower of Terror, another when Misty saves Ash in Pokémon 2000, included where Ash find support in her after to rise up, the other 3 choose you) and after that she (Serena), the next day, realizes how Misty is really important to Ash

““Wait, just who is this Misty to you? She sounds…” the honey-haired performer can’t help but beg, though her courage fades down the stretch, “… important…”

“I - I dunno,” Ash responds, perplexed that he’s even being asked the question, taken aback by his friend, Serena’s, pleading tone. “She’s…”

She bursts alive floating on a wave of starlight, petrified at first by her own weightlessness. Swaying to and fro, Serena does her best to regain a comfortable sense of posture before taking in her surroundings, squinting at a slightly distant tower climbing towards the gray clouds above it.

“Where… am I?” she asks tentatively, some part of her knowing she won’t receive a response but the frail, helpless, impatient young girl within hoping against hope despite that.

The last thing she remembers is tossing around in her bed at the Shalour City lodge, too troubled by an earlier exchange with Ash for sleep to capture her. It… It wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned a previous traveling companion, to be sure, but… there’d been something almost heartbreaking about his nostalgic tone of voice. In fact, upon reflection, she’s not sure who’s heart was breaking more.

“Misty sure would love this place,” he whispers confidently to himself, a mild uprising of panic welling up within her in response.

“Ash is taking too long!” a feminine voice says from just below and Serena nearly falls backwards in shock, both by the evident presence of other people and the mention of her first love. “I think we better go in and see how he’s doing!”

The performer tries her best to float downward but moves somewhat slowly compared to the spirit of the person beside her.

Wait… beside her?

A familiar young boy descends from on high and grabs the concerned redheaded girl around the waist, practically cackling in glee.

“So Misty, you’re really worried about me!” There’s a brief exchange as the girl whirls around, another male party standing beside her, confused by her reaction. “Come for a ride with me, Misty!”

And Ash Ketchum playfully lifts this redheaded girl up into the air by her hips.

“Wh - what are you doing, Ash?!” Serena squeaks. It’s so forward of him! So childish! A sudden burst of power helps her maneuver to his side and she urgently reaches out a hand to grab a hold of him, get him to look her in the eye and explain herself (plus perhaps he knows what’s even going on)… but her fingers glide through him as if he’s made of smoke and it’s only then that she notices…

“Ah! How is he see-through?!”

Next thing she knows, Ash has lost his grip on the other girl and she’s tumbling down, down…

There’s a tug at the back of her neck, limbs and nerves lurching as her surroundings go topsy-turvy, molding into something different. Suddenly, still airborne, she finds herself inside a dank, musty, and decrepit entrance-way. She might think it grand if not for the obvious age and lack of upkeep.

“Ash, open your eyes… Please, Ash!” the same female voice cries out from below, and Serena blinks, somewhat wary, disorganized after the sudden change of landscape.

Then she looks down and sees Ash Ketchum sprawled supine on the ground, a destroyed chandelier a few feet away… and that redheaded girl from before begging him to wake up.

“… I guess it’s time to go back…” a somewhat hollow yet familiar voice whispers agreeably from beside her and she jumps again, inhaling deeply as the spirit of her special someone drifts down and becomes one with his physical form. 

He struggles to wake a few seconds later and the redheaded girl - Misty, Serena confirms somewhat darkly - weeps with a smile on her face, wiping a few stray tears away and flushing pink in relief.

A frigid block of ice plummets into the honey-haired spectator’s tummy as the two kids below her smile intimately, softly, at each other. She’s reminded quite frankly of Ash’s nostalgic tone, just as sweet in her previous memory, before she shakes her head rampantly, beckoning on a new thought.

No, it doesn’t mean anything special. She’s sure plenty of girls have cried gratefully for her Ash. She knows she certainly would have if she’d been there.

That same uncomfortable tugging wrenches her current world askew and now Serena, poor girl, is underwater. She gasps for breath, choking, clawing at an invisible yet powerful current. There’s a pinprick of light above her but she can’t reach it, can’t use it to pull herself up from the dark…

Then she breaks the surface in a frantic rage, tears welling in her eyes from the maddening fear as she floats numbly. It’s a fair few seconds before she realizes that she can’t feel the frosty bite as her breath leaving her gaping mouth, the icy sea she’s surrounded by, the very air she’s gulping emphatically down.

Still, she cries because this can’t not be the end. How can she possibly hope to survive when stranded alone out in the ocean without a prayer o - or a friend…!?

“Piikaaaa!” reaches her ears and it’s so close by that she can’t help wondering how she hadn’t noticed the Pikachu a few mere feet behind her. “Piikaaachuuuu!” the electric mouse continues to cry as loudly as possible.

And wait, she thinks, squinting furiously until she notices… Isn’t that Ash?! What could he possibly be doing here?! Oh no!

But she’s barely a strong enough swimmer to keep herself afloat, she can’t see land for miles, there’s no way she stands a chance of saving him…

She twists around and around, distraught over the situation, faces back in the opposite direction of the unconscious (hopefully only unconscious) Ash and distressed Pikachu just in time for a redheaded girl to clamor right through her, kicking powerfully and treading water with utmost precision.

Misty approaches the two capsized victims, quelling the electric mouse from his fretful terror, pulling the limp preteen boy up into her arms and holding his face above the surface of the water even as her own sometimes falls under, tugging on a rope Serena wouldn’t have otherwise noticed.

The three of them proceed ignorantly through her once more as they’re pulled back in what she can only assume is the direction of the very land she couldn’t find before.

Serena is overcome by a vague clout of envy, an emotion she recognizes from the times when Miette tended to outshine her with her confidence, and yet… Next moment, the feeling wanes, subsides as pride and relief flood her instead, threatening to (and forgive the irony) drown her in their wake.

The familiar sickening jolt carries her away and, next thing she knows, she’s blinking her eyes open on a brittle, bleak seashore. Somewhat expectantly, she turns until she sees them. Ash, along with Misty and some other boy she hadn’t met before this are grouped before her.

The redheaded girl is practically crying again, hand to the preteen boy’s chest as she fervently shakes him back to life with unsettled entreaties. What once was a heavyset jealousy residing in Serena’s stomach works its way up her esophagus as a pitiful prayer of hope, transformed to unrestrained solace when the young boy stirs back to waking.

“At least he’s okay… At least,” and the girl can’t help the wonderment that accompanies her next few words, “Misty was there to save him.”

The name, the presence; it was all a curse mere seconds (or was it eons?) ago.

And, without further ado, Serena is whisked away once more.

She’s transported to many different worlds this night, or so it seems. She wakes in rivers, on roads, surfing on Pokemon or ferried on boats; she watches the two of them bicker with, protect, fear for each other; she watches them struggle to survive in some other dire circumstance; she witnesses them lose sleep over discussions of shared dreams under inky nightfall and braces herself for their friendly rivalry culminating in sporting competition beside blazing sunlight; she follows one as they cry out the others name in wretched concern; brazenly sticks to the other when they run away, slighted, mere hours before the two are doomed to say goodbye…

When Serena indeed wakes soundly from her slumber the next morning, she’s convinced that none of it could be real despite the tears streaking unconsciously down her cheeks as she stares bemusedly at the ceiling.

How can two people go through so much and not be together, stay together…? How can anything stand to come between them?

The thought courses through her but the immature part of her, unable to release her grip on the Ash she’s been chasing since she left home, quashes it instantaneously. Restless, she jerks around in bed, determined not to succumb to her own concession.

And yet, some of vision-Misty’s final words come to mind…

“I see it now too, Ash… How important she is… and how you feel about her.”

It’s with this admission that she finds herself capable of forgiving Ash’s awkwardness around her as they’re all eating breakfast a couple hours later.

But it’s not over until it’s over… right?

(Okay so I guess I should apologize? It’s very hard to fit this prompt into the required word limit. I honestly could have fleshed it out with more definitive examples beyond the two the anon requested but it would have ended up a good 5000 words long. I also… was a bit confused by certain parts of the prompt. Anyway, I did my best and I like the finished product.)

[cutegirlmayra]

Bright idea time! How about Boom Sonic and/or his pals waking up one day turned into humans?

(x Special thanks to the artist for this Preview Image!)

(x)

PROMPTS ARE ON SHUT DOWN - Do not request a prompt until further notice please, thank you.

Prompt:

After stumbling through a cave of ancient technology, Sonic remembers his time with his robot suit and decides it may be best not to do anything with the new equipment until Tails figures it out.

Amy translates the ruins over the course of a few days, two to be exact. However, without realizing it, she releases a voice-operated mechanism that she then takes to Tails once discovering that it activated.

Tails, thinking it’s probably some communication system, tries to hook it up to his roof to see if he can get any signals from it.

Thinking it didn’t do anything, he confirms to Amy that it’s just glowing and nothing more, maybe used for light or something deep in the tunnels they found it in, before a green light covers the entire island that night.

Sticks wakes up first in the early morning, stumbling out of bed and unsure why she feels so… ‘tall’ suddenly. She thinks it’s cold too… and goes to get some water.

However, raising the glass to her mouth, she peers in the water and freaks out.

“AMMMMYYY!!!!” she charges, hands out in front of her, all the way to Amy’s. “THE ALIENS! They’ve implanted me into a-“ she squeaked a gasp, jumping back on Amy’s table. “They’ve got you too!”

“Emm… They’ve done what?” Amy rubs her head, before feeling something other than her spiky quills… “Huh, that new shampoo really made my hair feel softer…” she withdraws her hand only to discover that her glove is too big for her anymore. “What the-!?” she panics and slowly removes it. “AHHH!!” she hides it again and looks down at her outfit, seeing it has shrunk considerably and rushes to pull it down. “What’s happened to us!? We’re… We’re…”

“AMMMMY!!!” Tails charges in, wearing some baggy overalls he ‘clearly’ borrowed and using his utility belt to hold them up. “That wasn’t a transmitter at all! It was a… a transmuter!” He then pointed to his butt. “They’re gone! My beautiful, rinse-lather-repeated, shiny, flowy, namesake is go-o-one!!” he seemed to have lost his most precious possession, and collapsed to his knees. “How could I have been so stupid?”

“My translation… it was rushed!” Amy grabbed her face, before screaming. “MY FUR!!! IT’S GONE!”

Knuckles then ran in, wearing trunks, the only think he could find. “I WOKE UP NAKED!” he was looking to Tails, before seeing the girls and blushing bashfully at his abruptness, “W-well… I mean,… I’m all fleshy… heh-heh.” He shyed away before Sonic bolted in, stumbling on his now long legs and different anatomy. He was wearing his bandana like a loincloth, causing Amy’s hair to stand on end as he entered.

“LOOK!” he pointed to his eyes and blinked them. “They’re separated!!!” he cried out, then pointed to his hair, “They’re not spiky! AND LOOK!”

“Oh, I’m looking.” Amy covered her face as he pointed to his feet.

“They’ve shrunk!”

“And you still can’t grow any chest hair.” Sticks rolled her eyes.

Amy’s face was fuming with heat, but she quickly suggested, with her eyes else-where from Sonic, to quickly head back to the tunnel and it’s ruins.

She reread the translation, “That which is within, shall then be without. For your species—be kin. For your kin—be one… but I thought the ancestors were against humans?” She held a finger to her mouth, unsure of what to do.

“A-Amy…” The boys were turned around, for obvious reasons as Amy had to bend her knees and squat over a bit to read the inscription, and Sticks was keeping look-out… “Where does it say that? The ancestors had peace with humans for centuries.”

“No, not in this era… they must have used this to spy on the humans before making initial contact with them.” Amy explained, getting up and nodding to Sticks. “Okay, I’m good.” She pulled her skirt down further, just in case…

“We really should find better clothes…”

“We really should find a way to keep them from staring.” Sticks growled, before turning to the boys who were staring at her legs… “BARK BARK!”

They flinched, nervously looking away or scratching the back of their heads, even whistling as they waltzed out of the cave.

“That’s a first.” Amy moved over to Sticks.

“You can’t let them get away with even the smallest thing, Amy. Or they’ll walk all over ya.” Sticks slid her hand out through the air, before walking on as Amy sighed with an awkward sweatdrop.

“I guess I hear ya.” She smiled, and continued on.

-Eggman’s lair-

“Cubot! Orbot! It’s too hot in here!” A bunch of blankets began to shift and ruffle under a fidgeting and struggling body, “And is it just me? Or did this bed get a lot smaller than before? Cubot! Did you mess with my shrink ray again!?”

“Huh?” Cubot looked to Orbot, unsure of himself as he held the breakfast tray. “Has he always been this… squirmy?”

“The real question is, Cubot,…” Orbot, looking quite nervous but observant, gestured to the figure trying to find his way out from the long, white bedsheet. “When we tucked Dr. Eggman in last night… he was twice the size of the bed’s width, and his feet completely laid against the ends of his bed..!”

The two slowly looked back… and helped pulled the sheet back.

A bird with a long mustache, plump and angry, emerged from the bedside. “YOU TWO BETTER EXPLAIN WHY MY PILLOWS STUFFINGS ARE ALL OVER THE PLACE!”

The two just blinked at him.

“Are you sure that’s not just you molting?” Cubot shrugged.

“CUBOT!”

Later, Eggman discovered his animal form was that of a Inca Tern, a bird famous for it’s mustache…

Later, a fight ensued after the team found appropriate wear and began fighting Eggman in their new human forms.

Although difficult to master at first, especially limited in what they could do… Sonic still could react and move fast, Amy had her hammer, Sticks with her many weapons of choice, Knuckles with his fist, and Tails with his machines.

They beat Eggman, though he was amazed at how adorbl—EHEM—durable his new form was, and tried to stop the team from changing him back.

The other villagers also got new forms, but they all expressed their desire to turn back to their true forms again.

Even the burger logo at Meh Burger had changed into a Sandwich.

After a few difficulties, especially for the boys wearing pants and even shirts… they were finally able to change back and buried the relic away for no more ‘accidents’.

However…

“You know, I hate all animals!” Eggman pecked at his food… still… “But I honestly think I could have made scientific advancements a lot faster… if I had wings for days! Hohohoho!”

“Do you think he’ll ever fully recover?” Cubot pressed his pointer fingers together, worriedly…

“Who knows… he still likes to squawk our heads off.”

“What was that?”

“AHHH!!! Yikes! He may be a human again, but his hearing is still impeccable!”

“Is that a bird pun?”

“AHHH!!! Even his brain isn’t so ‘flighty’ anymore!”

“Yeah, I agree! Totally not a complete bird brain we came to know and love!”

“You’re still talking about me and I’m right here.”

“AHHH!!!” they embraced each other even tighter.

Back with Amy-

“Ah, what would I do without my cute look?” Amy admired her hedgehog’s cheeks and cute little nose, as Sticks was flipping around and crashing into things again, making a mess of her home. This caused to Amy to sigh, getting upset again at her behavior.

“What would I do without being so agile, flexible, swifty, and able then-! Ow!… Durable then a badger!?” She rolled and hit her head, but was glad that this time, she could just shake it off.

Tails loved on his trademark, brushing and grooming his tails as he seemed relieved. “Daddy’s got’cha.” He then embraced them, flying up and doing some acrobatic tricks and laughing as he enjoyed himself. “Without my tails, I would never be able to fly again! W-well, not exactly, there’s always the X-Tornado! B-but, still…” he shrugged.

“Yeah! Blue, spiky, and full of energy! Now this is how I like it!” Sonic spun up and rammed into the house as well, causing Amy to groan again.

“Human or animal… you still make a zoo of my place.” She muttered.

“And I… Well, I-!… Hmm.” Knuckles looked confident as he flexed a moment, before looking down at his knuckles again… and then laughing, “Actually, I was pretty much the same guy.” He rubbed his head, and the team joined him in laughter, but he looked a little uncertain that they were laughing.

“Haha…haha… we’re laughing cause I’m cute and not because I discovered my human persona was a red-head… haha… r-right guys?”

[krustywhore]

still hurting

so this one’s a doozy. i’m just going to start with a disclaimer before anyone gets interested and decides to risk reading if it isnt healthy for them. this story will contain very dark and traumatic descriptions and content concerning sexual violence and rape so if that is something that might be dangerous for you to read or could make you too uncomfortable, please please please do not read this. i will not be offended by anyone who chooses not to read, trust me. i care way too much about all of y’all so just stay safe. i’ll have another fic up tonight that is much lighter.

ok! so now onto all of the nice people that requested this! thank you to the lovely anon who suggested these two prompts, as well as SomedayonBroadway on ao3 that commented on my story ‘hold on’ with an ask for a fic where race gets drugged and this is what i came up with. i also have to give major props to readeatsleeprepeat on ao3 who wrote one of my favorite sprace fics with a similar theme that i just love so all of you should check that out here. 

alright well i’ll get on to the fic now, thanks guys:)

“Spot, come on! This might be my chance! His mom runs the casting department for the New York City Ballet, I have to go! Trust me, this date will be completely fake, you know I wouldn’t leave you for anything, let alone this guy, but if it gets me a job, we could finally move out of this shitty place and maybe, I don’t know, take some bigger steps together?” Race was practically begging for Spot to understand, but that really made a difference.

“You’re serious?” He asked shyly, taking Race’s hands with a giddy grin on his face. They had been talking about getting engaged for so long, they had been together for almost five years at that point, but it just wasn’t financially realistic at the time, If this fake-date with some guy Race met in his dance program was the ticket to them eventually being able to get married, then Spot would be happy to give up his boyfriend for the night.

“You promise you’ll be careful?”

“Babe, you don’t have to worry, I swear. If I have any problems, I’ll call you, but he’s harmless. Plus, I only need to do this until I can find out if he can actually get me an audition or not,” Race teased, earning a small chuckle out of his boyfriend.

“Fine, just let me know what’s happening along the way, okay? And tell him you don’t kiss on the first date,” he smirked, capturing the boy’s lips once more before he slipped out the door. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Race called, stepping into the elevator at the end of the hall and he was gone. Spot closed the door behind him, retreated back to their bedroom, and started working on a paper on his laptop.

He received texts from Race throughout the night, each one bringing a smile to his face as his boyfriend complained about literally everything under the sun.

From Race: he’s wearing cargo shorts save me jesus

From Race: oh my god he just ordered a beer and told the waitress, and I quote, ‘it tastes better on a glass so don’t you dare bring it in the bottle’

From Race: well he bought me a drink so that’s a bonus I guess

From Race: I miss you, this asshole just reminds me of how picky jack is when we all go out

Everything seemed to be going fine with updates every fifteen minutes or so until a little over half an hour passed without a single word.

Spot was sure it was nothing. Besides, he kinda felt bad for the guy knowing Race was basically on his phone the whole time from how often he was texting him, but that quickly disappeared.

From Race: so he just told me he made up the whole thing about his mom just to get me to go out with him

From Race: I’m just going to pretend like I don’t care, go to the bathroom and get the check as soon as I finish my drink. I love you, I’ll be home soon

Spot groaned, running his hands through his hair and closing out the extra real estate tabs on his computer. Oh well, at least they tried.

But then more texts came.

From Race: spot I’m scared I really don’t feel good

From Race: he offered to pay the tab and before I knew it he was shoving me into his car

From Race: baby I’m so scared I can’t move very well I think he’s taking me back to his place

From Race: i’m so sorry sean I’m sorry I love you so much I’m sorry

Spot walked back into their bedroom with a bag of popcorn in his hands, set it down on his desk, and grabbed his phone, opening his texts from Race as his blood ran cold.

No. No, no, no, fuck no.

Not his boy, not Race, never. He choked back tears, grabbed a jacket, his keys, and was running out the door in seconds.

He had no idea where he was going the moment his car pulled out of their building’s parking lot. Still, he drive until he was stopped at an intersection, pulling out his phone and frantically searching for any source that could track Race’s phone.

He found an app, knowing it was linked to his own phone’s account, quickly signed out and began inputting Race’s information. Sadly, the light turned red and he had to stop, taking a few more turns before the traffic started up again and he was finally logged in.

The tracker was slow, probably because Race likely urned his phone off, but he eventually got a location; an apartment almost half an hour in the opposite direction.

At that point he had tears streaming down his cheeks as he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, taking as many backstreets and topping off the speed limit for any chance to get their quicker.

Everything felt wrong, it was as if every part of his body was screaming at him to do something, but he couldn’t do it. Still, once he reached the last intersection before the apartment complex, he simply pulled his car over to the side of the road and ran. He ran up the stairs, knowing that there was no way he would wait for an elevator, and he was nearly certain he was about to vomit as he found the room, staring at the slightly-agape door before slamming it open.

The place was just like he imagined, unkempt, sparse, and with an air of what Spot could only describe as hell.

No, he wasn’t scared of this guy. He never got scared of fights.

However he was absolutely terrified of what he might find.

He wanted so badly to just burst through every room until he found his boyfriend, but there were other problems, namely the one standing right in front of him.

“You,” he hissed, charging at the guy who looked utterly perplexed as he turned around. Still, there wasn’t much time for that  before an awful cracking sound erupted from his jaw aw Spot made the first blow. The guy went staggering backwards, clutching his face as Spot simply swung from the other side. This tended to be one of the only times being ambidextrous came in handy.

He was just so beside himself that this man thought Race was his to do what he pleased. That he could just take someone like that, but Spot didn’t care what he thought because in minutes he was out cold on his apartment floor and Spot’s bloody knuckles meant absolutely nothing to him.

Instead, he needed to find the one thing that did matter.

And there he was. Spot swung open the closest door to him and that was all it took. There he was. Spot could hardly believe it as his feet carried him to the bed where his beautiful, broken boy laid motionless. His face, though consumed by unconsciousness, was full of terror and the tear tracks dried onto his cheeks only made Spot’s fall harder.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here now, I got you,” he whimpered, sliding his arms carefully around the boy’s bare body, taking a bedsheet from the bed and deciding not to waste any time trying to redress the boy in his clothes that littered the floor. He thought about taking them with him, but knew there was no way in hell Race would ever put them back on again, so he let them be. However, he did notice the boy’s binder laying on the ground, which he knew he definitely would want as he picked it up, his heart dropping as he held the one long piece of fabric, a massive rip right down the middle.

He left it behind as well, scooping Race up bridal style and holding him tightly to his chest. The process to get him out of that building was nearly impossible as Spot could barely see through his tears.

The thoughts kept running through his head over and over.

I did this.

I let him go.

I wasn’t there when he needed it.

I couldn’t get there in time.

I let someone hurt him.

This bastard just hurt my baby boy and I couldn’t do a thing to stop him.

Spot gently laid Race down in the passenger seat, making sure he was completely covered by the sheet before climbing into the driver’s seat and practically speeding to the hospital. His hand held firmly to his boyfriend’s until he pulled into the emergency loading dock and carried him inside just the same.

It wasn’t hard to get someone to help them, in fact, it only took a minute or two before a couple nurses came rushing in with a bed and took Race from Spot’s arms, despite his initial protest. He knew he had to let go, but no matter who they were, he just…couldn’t stand it.

He followed close behind them throughout the whole process, explaining everything he knew to another nurse as the others frantically hooked him up to all of their systems. Spot could barely watch as he spoke the word he never thought he’d have to, and the nurse looked to the rest of the team.

“I-I’m pretty sure he was…r-raped,” Spot choked out, breaking down as he did, wanting nothing more than to lie down beside his boyfriend and hold him tight and never let go.

The nurse let him be and went to go order a test, but not before asking a few questions about Race’s…body.

“He’s trans, transgender I mean. H-he’s been taking testosterone for a few years now and his d-doctor says the he doesn’t have to w-worry about any, um, fertility or anything anymore,” Spot mumbled as quietly as he could manage, keeping his gaze set on his hands.

“Okay, well Mr. Conlon, don’t worry about a thing, we’re going to make sure he’s healthy and safe and then I’m sure he’ll be okay to go home in no time,” the nurse assured him as Spot nodded, thanking her briefly before curling up into the chair outside the boy’s room and waiting.

Waiting was torture. All he wanted was to see Race. To just hold him and make sure he was safe, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t for so, so long that he could hardly tell how long it had been when a nurse finally came out of the room and told him he could finally come inside. First, though, the nurse told him exactly what had happened, per Spot’s request. He wanted to know as much as possible just in case Race didn’t know. God, that was sickening itself just to think about.

He told Spot the drugs that were being flushed out of his system, and how the man must have used a combination of two different sleep supplements, not meant to be taken together, and that was why he would have to stay overnight, much to Spot’s dismay. Still, he thanked the nurse and hesitantly made his way into the room.

“Tony?” He hadn’t meant for his voice to sound so scared as he watched the boy on the bed look up at him with tired, terrified eyes.

He looked so small. Just the mere sight of him there was enough to shatter his heart into millions of pieces.

Race just curled in on himself and let out a painful sob as Spot ran to his side, sitting right beside him.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he cried, wanting nothing more than to just hold him until they could pretend their world wasn’t falling apart, but he wasn’t sure in Race would even want to be touched, let alone without him asking first. “I’m so, so sorry, ‘Tonio.”

Race just trembled as he curled the thin bedsheets around him as far as possible.

“Can I touch you, sweetheart? I promise I won’t hurt you, I would never,” Spot continued, pleading in his face that Race knew.

He felt his face unable to hold back a smile as the other nodded rapidly and Spot curled up to him tightly. His shaking body slowed slightly with Spot wrapped around him, his strong arms holding him tightly against his chest. Soft kisses were pressed to his neck and shoulders, each one easing Race a tiny bit more.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” Race whimpered before bursting into tears. Spot froze, sitting up so he could see the boy’s face properly. He shakily reached up to cup his cheeks, gently brushing away the tears as they fell.

“No, no, no, baby you don’t have anything to be sorry for, okay? This isn’t your fault, T. You did nothing wrong,” Spot spoke softly, repeating similar renditions of the phrases over and over until Race seemed to actually believe him.

“B-but, I’m broken, Spotty. I…I want to be okay, but I-I’m not! I just can’t do it! I-I’m not okay!” Race’s sobs were like a stab to Spot’s heart as he wrapped his arms around the boy, letting him cry into his shoulder.

“Hey, listen to me and know that I would never lie to you, okay?” He started, feeling Race nod into his shoulder. “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re still the beautiful, hilarious, dumbass I fell in love with and the same boy I will always be in love with. No matter what, I’m here forever, okay? I’m never letting you go as long as you’ll have me.”

Race just nodded, wrapping his arms around Spot’s torso as they laid back down together, Spot doing the same as he ran his hands gently through Race’s hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead as they fell asleep safe in each other’s arms.

They wouldn’t be okay in the morning. They wouldn't be okay in a day or two. They wouldn’t even be okay when the man from that was finally arrested, but things got better. There was a long stretch of time when Race wouldn’t let anyone touch him. Except for Spot, that is. He had to hold onto Spot at all times. The two were inseparable after that, even more so than they had already been for years. They slowly found a way to manage, not quite move on, but they made it through.