#5 minutes into the second but misery all the same :)

[jonasiegenthaler]

njd@ari | 16.03.24

#nico hischier #timo meier #devils #5 minutes into the second but misery all the same :) #hey remember in 21/22 when lindy said that nico always takes losses the hardest :) isn't that fun :) #.gif #bench cam

[macbethz]

ok ive thought about it a bit and i dont like it. sorry. i think it fufills that kind of instant dopamine rush of pure spectacle and the idea of the doctor needing a fucking break is good but essentially splitting a fragment off of him to go have all that off-screen feels like wish fulfillment rather than good story. its also like. RUSSELL THIS IS THE SECOND TIME YOUVE BROUGHT "SPLITTING DAVID TENNANT TO HAVE AN ORDINARY LIFE" TO CLASS. LIKE WE DID THIS BEFORE.

FUNDAMENTALLY the part that most upsets me about it is it feels motivated by the same nostalgic urge that bringing back DT had in the first place, which ended up being a decision I enjoyed but I still think is rooted in this fear of change and this avoidance of tragedy. Tragedy and sadness provide catharsis, they really do, and doctor who is a show about change. It feels...emotionally stunted, in a way. like RTD is giving us pool floaties because he doesn't trust us to swim in the deep end of the pool. Its the same cautiousness that I found particularly upsetting about Chibnals tenure, and the same cautiousness that motivates the endless steam of reboots under late capitalism.

I like to HOPE that this will be resolved in the near future just as I'm HOPING biregeneration will also be explained. At least we got to see Ncuti's ass

EDIT this post i made in 5 minutes intended for my mutuals has brought me nothing but misery. Please take a film class and listen to the new Suede album. thank you

#EDIT PEOPLE FINDING THIS POST AND GETTING ANGRY. ITS MY OPINIONNNN #enjoyed the rest of the episode btw this conlusion is just. hm #Especially to then bring up all the tragic ends from Moffatt era specifically to circumvent them rubs me the wrong way idk #warlock wartalks #dw spoilers

[robthegoodfellow]

I Just Wanna Cheer

Crying, Creampie, Virginity Kink for Days 21/22/23 of @harringrovekinktober additional incidental use of sex toys, praise kink, orgasm denial, dom/sub dynamic, role playing, you know the drill—now with emerging feminization kink

(roommates in love, kink experimentation, billy gets boinked, nsfw)

Handy Links to Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 (kill me)

.

It was his own fault for trying to cancel on Robin again—having assumed, now that she knew about his and Billy’s fledgling thing, that she’d be more understanding of his needs.

But no.

Eyeroll audible over the phone, Robin had offered a different option. Just bring your boy toy along if it’s that much of a burden to leave his side. There was a loaded pause during which Steve scrambled to recall whether he’d told her that particular part of their fledgling thing, then she continued, blithe and cavalier. That is, if you can stand to keep your hands off each other’s dicks for a couple hours. Speaking over Steve’s choked bluster: It’ll be a struggle, I know. But I believe in you. Stay strong.

So he’d called Billy up after, risking Madam Manager’s ire for lingering too long on his lunch break, and caught him right before he left for class. Billy had gone quiet, digesting Steve’s rushed explanation—drinks at the Taproom around eight; you, me, and Robin—and then cleared his throat. Like, us all hanging out as friends? he asked. Or…? And Steve froze, wrongfooted. What—uh, whatever you want, he said, clumsy. She knows. I mean, not everything—just that we’re… uhm. Sorry? he added, wincing, and Billy mercifully jumped in, put him out of his misery. It’s fine. I’ve been talking to Heather about us. I needed someone to… He trailed off, and Steve breathed a sigh, grinning with relief as he nodded. Yeah. Me, too.

Billy had already showered and eaten when Steve got home—tilted his cheek for a drive-by kiss as Steve passed him huddled in the corner of the couch, psych notes open on his lap. Hadn’t moved even after Steve had finished stuffing his face, washing up. What should I wear? Steve called as he emerged from the bathroom, towel around his waist, and Billy glanced over—locked on Steve’s hand, the fisted terrycloth at his hip. Understandably, it took Steve a moment to absorb Billy’s reply: I was gonna ask you the same question.

And Billy—never asked Steve for fashion advice. Which meant he had something else in mind.

They were late meeting Robin.

.

“You live literally down the road,” she exclaimed when they arrived at the Taproom, flushed from power walking and also other things. Steve’s buttons were misaligned on his shirt, and Billy’s hair gave off the distinct impression of having just rolled out of bed. Distinct and—accurate.

“Couldn’t find my wallet,” Steve lied, gentle arm at Billy’s waist to guide him into a chair. 

Billy sat. Carefully.

“Well, I hope it turned up,” Robin said, unconvinced and unimpressed. “Because first round’s on you.”

“Long Islands for everyone?” He stooped, arms looped around Billy from behind, and—lightly pressed on his abdomen, encouraging him to lean against the chairback, relax from his prim perch. “Okay?” he basked, when his boy swallowed a whimper, red flooding his cheeks. Billy nodded, and Steve kissed his neck, the skin feverish under his lips. “Good.”

They explained away Billy’s spacey distraction easily enough—big psych test on Monday—but by the second round, with Billy shifting every minute, rocking in his seat ever so slightly, his eyes glassy, lips parted, Robin was growing concerned.

“You sure you feel alright?” she checked, then squinted. “Or feeling too alright?”

Steve cut in, scooched his chair alongside Billy’s, their legs flush under the table.

“He hasn’t been sleeping well,” he said, drawing Billy to slump against him, corralling with the comforting palm on his shoulder. “You need to go home, babe?”

Billy huffed, hearing the subtle taunt. You give up? Give in?

“M’good,” he insisted, wagging his head. Unseeing, unblinking, he fumbled for his glass. Tossed back the rest, ice cascading toward his mouth. He slouched into Steve’s touch, crunching cold loud between his molars. Hidden, insinuated a hand around Steve’s thigh and underneath—cinching him close. If he traced upward not too far, he’d bump the bulge straining Steve’s zipper. One glance at Billy’s lap revealed he was in even worse shape: a patch of wet seeping through pale blue denim. “Robin’s turn to buy.”

.

Lucky for them, Robin caught the eye of the Gina Gershon type behind the bar—got her number, the promise of a good time after her shift—and around the fifth or sixth round, Robin went to fetch tequila shots and never came back. 

Sloppy steps to the exit, clinging to each other’s waists, and the muggy summer night welcomed them to the sidewalk, chatter and cheesy pop muffled beyond the door. 

They cut a crooked path toward the apartment, breathy silence broken by the odd chuckle or hum, speech smothered by the pulsing weight of expectation that had settled all around.

They were going home, and Steve was gonna fuck him. Shove inside, push to the root and hammer his hips until he spilled, until the swollen hole oozed white, until he—

Billy was whining in short throaty bursts by the time they reached the stairwell, stumbling now and then, relying on Steve to half-haul him up the last flight. Please he mumbled, the moment their door clicked, and Steve wasn’t sure where the surge of macho muscle came from, but next thing he knew he’d hefted a clinging koala into his arms, gripping just below the ass, striding to his bedroom, wet lips mouthing Steve’s neck with every step.

Part of him wanted to throw Billy down, watch him bounce on the mattress, but he didn’t—or he would, but not now, not when his good boy had been squirming for so long, desperate to wring some relief from the toy wedged snug. No, he lowered him gentle onto his back, lovely legs hugging Steve’s hips, dangling off the bed—Billy’s hips lifting the moment fingers fumbled at his button, tugged at his zip.

The lube was within reach, right where they’d left it, when they’d overindulged before rushing out the door, Steve slicking up the small plug and working it in, pulling a new pair of pale pink panties up long, bronzed legs, then selecting a pair of jeans, a tank cut so low around the neck, hanging loose about the ribs, that it barely covered his nipples. 

Steve had taken it upon himself to carefully tuck the front of the tank into the waist of his jeans, the way Billy liked, and now took it upon himself to untuck, pushing the tank up as he yanked the jeans down, fingers hooked in a back pocket. 

He left the jeans balled below Billy’s knees, allowing them to part wide and meanwhile keep his ankles tied. Bending low, Steve ran his nose along the obscene jut of cock beneath sticky satin, breathed heat through the fabric—pressed his face into Billy’s crotch when he writhed, moaning.

“Here’s what I want,” Steve said, peering up—a strange vantage point: the heaving hills and valleys of Billy’s abs, his pecs, the underside of a tilted chin, the shifting rise of biceps, arms flung above his head. “I want to pull down the back of your panties. Check my good boy is ready for me.”

“Ready,” Billy panted, hardly more than a wheeze. “M’ready, ready. Please.”

“Haven’t gone past the middle plug,” Steve told him, all regret—as though breaking it to him gently, and Billy sobbed. “But,” he went on, shushing, sneaking to fondle the base of the plug through silky smooth pink, cup the shivering curves of his ass. “You promise to tell me if you want to stop, and I’ll fuck you now. Fill you up. And if it’ll make my good boy happy, we’ll plug him up after. No leaking.” Billy was begging under his breath, babbling yes, please—please, yes. “Promise?” Steve prompted, reaching for the lube as he sat up, propped against the edge of the mattress.

Billy promised, tears already eeking down his temples, wetting his hair. Steve watched them drip as he slicked his fingers—used his dry hand to inch the panties down, the front drawn taut as the back pulled, clearing the rise of Billy’s ass to sit bunched below.

He didn’t tease his boy too much: traced up to stroke the stiff heat straining satin, brush the twitching length with his thumb, then drifted back down to caress the protruding flat of glass. One mild tug, and it slipped free on a gasp. He let it thunk on the carpet at his feet.

The hole that kissed blind fingertips was still fluttering from the sudden loss—seemed to suck him in, inflamed greed, taking two easy, then three. Billy’s face was twisted, eyes closed, his lashes wet, hips grinding into the touch as though searching, feeling his way in the dark. A whine puffed past slack lips, desperate—almost forlorn.

“Okay,” Steve breathed. Withdrew, grappling clumsy for the lube, slicking his cock where it bobbed by the bedspread, trailing drool. “Okay, baby.”

His forearm hooked shaking thighs, dragged Billy closer, ass almost hanging off the bed. Steve gripped himself mid-shaft, thumbing the crown, and nudged forward, catching on the rim that still seemed too small, impossibly small.

Billy sighed, set one hand on Steve’s forearm, the cross bar holding him steady—coasted down the arm to link their hands, and Steve bowed his head, suddenly swamped. Just—overwhelmed.

He pushed, steady pressure, and it was like with the plug, where resistance caved to a gobbling grip. Pushed and the slicked crown was swallowed up by clenching heat. Paused to breathe, a returning squeeze to their linked hands, then sank further—this stuttering plow that deepened with the duet of stuttering breaths.

Steve was lost in it, so consumed by the sensory influx—the salty musk of sweat and precome, the lungs bellowing in his ears, the thundering throb of his pulse where they were joined, where they were holding on, nerves alight, a smolder about to catch and roar—so consumed that when he bottomed out, flush with Billy’s ass, he kept going, rocking into him, lifting, Billy’s knees curling toward his chest, where the flimsy tank still lay, askew.

“Good?” Steve asked, throaty, and Billy’s eyes rolled in his head as he laughed, weak, lips barely hitched. Slowing, Steve circled the rim that clutched him, as though measuring—assessing. Feathered his touch from thin skin smooth and slick to the peach fuzz of Billy’s ass check, tickling, and grunted as the convulsive clench. “Fast or slow?”

His boy didn’t answer with words—maybe couldn’t—just a bobblehead, like Fast? Yes. Slow? Yes. Yes. Yes. So Steve gave him both, grinding into him torturous slow, adjusting until he nailed the spot that made Billy squirm and mewl, then let loose. Jackhammered, and when Billy's blushing wet cockhead peeked from the pink frilly waistband, smearing his abs, Steve smirked, mindless except for one driving thought: I want to feel him come on my cock.

Reaching down, unsteady, Steve tucked him back out of sight. Stroked him lightly as he said it: “Cream your panties for me, Billy.”

And god, Steve loved to watch him lose it beneath him, give in, crack open, but to feel it from inside...

Milking me, he thought, jaw slack, launched into sweet blue nothing. Fucking milking me.

Barely caught himself from faceplanting with an arm made of noodle, panting fit to die. The sweet blue nothing blinked at him—so pretty, heavy-lidded.

All Steve could do for the moment was blink back.

.

You knew you had it good when waking life was indistinguishable from a wet dream. The hazy cloud of ecstasy that lured Steve from sleep in the wee hours of the morning resolved into recent memory as he squinted, absorbing the smells of Billy embedded in the sheets—registering the absence of Billy’s sounds. His warmth. Steve pawed at his eyes, unsure whether the emerging snapshots, burning to the touch, were real or fantasy.

…Billy, after Steve had emptied into him, placidly rolling onto his stomach, presenting his ass for inspection upon request—humming long and low at the probing touch where he was swollen, pucker red and shining. A more insistent prod, and a pearl of white bloomed.

Distantly, he heard water running in the pipes. Billy—in the bathroom?

Middle of the bed, Steve had murmured. Lay on your tummy. And Billy army-crawled to obey, his ankles shackled by the mess of denim. Steve opted to leave them for the time being.

Billy had dropped flat with a whooshing sigh, head fenced by sprawling arms, legs akimbo, and Steve crawled to lie alongside, propped on an elbow. For a while, he just studied that face—the rosy cheeks, the pink lips gently curled in blissed satisfaction, eyelashes dark and clumped from tears. 

Need anything? Steve asked, quietly mesmerized, brushing back a lock of tawny hair. Or want? One blue eye had cracked open, bleary, exhausted. And yet—his hips twitched, bare ass still exposed, satin shoved low. He wanted Steve to keep his promise: no leaking. 

Steve’s bedroom door creaked open, and moments later the mattress dipped under a heavy form, blankets shifting as Billy settled.

“You okay?” Steve asked, voice scratchy. Half-awake, he rolled, slinging his arm around Billy’s back.

Billy yawned an incoherent confirmation. “Took care of business.”

Steve traced to the base of his spine, absently curious, and ran a finger down his crack. No plug. “All clean?”

“Mhmm.” Arching, Billy pressed into his touch, then resettled with a tired chuckle. “So you can mess me up again.”

Steve snorted—gripped an asscheek, meaning to claim a squeeze before he withdrew. But then… he forgot to do that last part. Drifted off still fondling Billy’s butt.

.

To make up for the delayed festivities due to socializing the night before, they’d resolved to shack up all of Saturday. A few hours of drinks sets us back, what—three or four orgasms? Steve estimated, and Billy had scoffed, let out a loud Hah! For you, maybe. At which Steve had swooped in, herding him against the wall to nip at his throat. I’m sorry—was that a complaint? Shivering, tilting his chin for more, Billy clung to his ribs. No. No complaints.

Which is why Steve was a little put out to realize he’d slept until nine—that Billy had let him, moreover, because the rest of the bed was cold and empty.

And then the buttery cinnamon sugar hit him upside the head, beckoned him upright, nose in the air. Heard the telltale clinks and thunks of Billy puttering at the stove, and couldn’t help but smile. 

Smiled while he pulled on some sweatpants, a worn tee. Smiled as he brushed his teeth, took a piss. Washed his hands. Smiled as he wandered to the kitchen, itching to wrap his good boy up tight, kiss his neck, his cheeks—

The smile didn’t slip, but it… froze solid, along with the rest of him, at the vision that greeted him: Billy halted in front of the fridge, limned in morning sunlight.

Billy with his hair piled atop his head in a messy bun, wearing one of those close-fitting crop tops that he knew drove Steve crazy. His gaze dropped to the rumpled tube socks, trailed up the bronzed curves of his calves, his thighs—to the green pleated hem. Of the skirt.

The cheerleading skirt. The cheerleading skirt that Billy was wearing, in the kitchen. That he had worn while baking cinnamon buns. And making coffee.

Steve had completely flatlined, but all it took was a puff of sound—a nervous muffled squeak of a thing—and his attention swung to Billy’s face. To Billy’s bottom lip, drawn between his teeth. To Billy’s big blue eyes, slanted brows. Hopeful, but—uncertain.

“What—?” Steve tried, shaking his head, and at least tacked a grin to his bafflement. “How…?”

“Borrowed it,” Billy said, fidgeting. Cautious smile. “From Heather.”

Bless Heather for all eternity. Forever and ever. Amen. 

“You look—” He couldn’t seem to move, but that was fine. Billy was coming to him—a certain slink to his stride. Steve rallied. “You look—so good. So, so, so—”

Billy set his hands on Steve’s waist, toying with the thin cotton. “I was thinking we could play… like we did that time with the spies? Only…”

His good, good, genius boy.

“Only… jock and cheerleader?” Steve finished, and Billy ducked, bashful—except not his usual bashful, but extra bashful, like he was putting on a show, like he was… a blushing, bashful, virginal little—

Billy leaned up. Kissed the corner of his mouth, soft and sweet. Instinctive, Steve palmed the back of his head, fingers buried in blond, and pulled him flush.

“You wanna be my good girl today?” he whispered, lips brushing Billy’s cheek—pressed a kiss there when Billy nodded. “Whatcha wearing under that skirt, babe?”

Billy giggled—quiet and flirty. “Breakfast first.”

Steve nipped his ear. “And then a snack?”

“Down, boy,” Billy scolded, swatting his arm. He turned and walked away—the sway deliberate, as confirmed by the cheeky wink thrown over his shoulder.

.

Now with next chapter: He Loves Me, Loves Me, Loves Me

#roommates in love #harringrove #harringrovekinktober2k23 #billy hargrove #soft dom steve harrington #good boy billy hargrove #this fic is driving me slowly insane #more insane #just been wandering around vaguely randy for weeks #WEEKS #but HEY they ass fucked woohooo

[littlewinter1917]

The Boys of Summer

My blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI. 🔞 Don’t repost my work anywhere.

Words: 11.7k

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Billy Hargrove x Steve Harrington (essentially Harringrove x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You and your two boyfriends, Billy and Steve, go on a little roadtrip to California together, and naturally shenanigans ensue.

Warnings: Just a lot of fluff, teasing, swearing, and some suggestive themes. Brief mentions of Billy’s past trauma and abuse (nothing explicit!) Minor hurt/comfort. Everyone in the trio is bi.

A/N: Do I really need to say which song inspired this one? Also, this is in celebration of the fact that we have only a few days left, before we’ll probably get disappointed by the Duffer brothers, so good times?😵‍💫

Read the story on AO3 here.

The midday sun is hot and unforgiving way up in the sky, beaming down relentlessly; the dark asphalt beneath your feet might as well be scorching, and the sound of crickets fills the heat shimmering air.

It is way too hot for your liking, and despite wearing a flowy summery dress, you feel like you’re on the verge of melting right into the dusty ground of the small petrol station where you’re currently waiting for- 

“Harrington! What’s taking you so fucking long?” Billy’s deep voice pulls you out of your current thoughts and misery.

Looking up, you see your fluffy, dark-haired boyfriend make his way over to you and Billy, a goofy smile on his face, and his hands and arms completely occupied with way too many snacks.

So that’s why he’s been gone so long inside the little patrol station.

“I come bearing gifts.” He states, a proud look gracing his sunlit features, and you know for a fact that he’s beyond pleased with himself and his unexpected findings. 

What a dork. 

“Did you have to rob the whole station?” Billy teases while coming to the rescue of a pair of airheads that threaten to slip from the confines of Steve’s bare arms. 

“I’ve got it.” Steve grumbles with a pout, stubbornly determined to carry all his little treasures by himself. 

“Sure,” Billy counters with an amused grin, “If you mean ‘I’ve got it' in the same way you meant your little ‘I’ll be quick’ roughly two hours ago, we’re lucky you’re still carrying any sweets at all, really.”

“Oh, fuck off, Billyboy. It’s been barely five minutes and besides that, why don’t you just take up snack duty at the next truck stop, then?”

There’s no real bite in any of Steve’s words, and the glare he throws Billy’s way is more playful than anything. 

“Well, that is most definitely not happening,” you interject quickly, "Because last time Billy was on snack duty, he brought nothing but 5 packs of cigarettes and a car magazine, stating that it’s our loss we don’t have any real taste.”

“That was once, it was a joke, and you two were behaving like brats.” Billy defends himself.

“You say that like it’s unusual for us to-“ Steve starts, but you’re quick to interfere once more. 

“Guys, can we maybe migrate this conversation into the confines of our car. I feel like my insides are going to start boiling any second now; it’s just so fucking hot!”

“You’re sure you’re not just hungry?” Billy asks with a sickly-sweet smile and you roll your eyes with a huff. 

“Steve, baby, love of my life. You still have the keys to the Camaro, don’t you?” you question, batting your eyelashes at the tall brunette.

“Yes, why?” Steve looks like he’s about to try to pat his jeans down for the keys, before remembering that he’s still balancing two months’ worth of snacks in both of his hands and arms.

“Well, do you think we could find our way to California without our resident mullet-boy? I feel like leaving him here in the middle of Oklahoma, for some reason.” 

This time it’s Billy’s turn to let out an offended huff. 

“You would get lost like immediately.”

“Doubt it. I might not have any sense of direction, but Steve-“

“Uhm, guys, you know how I said, 'I’ve got it', like two seconds ago? I think I just changed my mind… Oh, no! My Tangle Twister!” 

“Your what?!” Billy asks, slightly bewildered while trying to stop the landslide of candy that’s about to spill all over the burning asphalt, and you’re quick to help him, too. 

“Jesus, Harrington, have you ever heard about the fabulous invention called ‘bags’?”

“Like the ones under your eyes?” 

You stifle your laugh with a cough, while picking up the ice cream Steve just dropped to the ground. 

“Excuse me, but I’ve been the one driving for the past 6 hours.” 

“Yes, I know, Hargrove. my stomach still feels funny, thank you for that.” 

“Oh, shut it! I’m an excellent driver, you-“ 

“Guys! As much as I love your little old-fighting-married-couple moment, can we please get into the car now?”

Your impatience and intolerance for the southern heat is really reaching its peak and luckily, the two men finally listen, albeit not without grumbling, slightly offended, “We’re not that old.” 

The three of you make it into the car from there rather quickly.

Billy goes for the backseat to rest, together with the pile of candy that Steve is hesitant to leave somewhat unsupervised in the confines of Billy’s presence. You on the other hand, end up returning to your regular place in the passenger seat while Steve takes the one behind the wheel. 

You’ve all decided to take turns with the task of driving. You had been the first one earlier today during the ungodly morning hours, when the sun hadn’t even peaked above the horizon yet; leaving Hawkins behind while the veil of the night still lingered, then it had been Billy’s turn, and now it was going to be Steve’s. 

“Ready, my little co-pilot?” Steve questions with a soft pat to your knee, before starting the car, and Billy almost chokes on the ice-cold beer he just opened. 

“Aww, seems like someone learned drinking just yesterday, huh?” Steve comments with a teasing smile, eyes searching Billy’s in the rearview mirror, before adding, “And here I was, thinking you were good at not choking on things.”

There’s another startled cough, and you have to bite down on your lip to keep yourself from laughing.

“Careful, Stevie, you might end up killing him.“ 

“With what, my big words or my big-“ 

“Steve! Look out!” You suddenly exclaim, pointing at the car in front of you that just started to slow down significantly out of nowhere, and that Steve hadn’t been paying the closest attention to. 

“I think you’re most likely going to kill us with your big fucking driving skills.” Billy groans, still slightly upset about the beer stains on his shirt.

“Don’t sweat it, Hargrove.” Steve jokingly taunts, “You look better without it anyway.” 

“The beer stains? Yeah, go figure.” 

God, you’re in love with two himbos, and two himbos only.

For a moment you just watch your two boyfriends continue to bicker. It’s always somewhere between playful teases and shameless flirting, and it’s rather entertaining to say the least.

Billy notices your amused gaze first, and he’s quick to call you out on it, leaning over between the two front seats. 

“What are you smiling about, sweetheart?” He whispers lowly into your ear, the feeling of his breath tickling the exposed skin of your neck. 

“Nothing,” your voice wavers only slightly, “Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you two, and how much I love you both.”

Turning your head in Billy’s direction, you see his eyes instantly soften at your words, and his hands come up to carefully cup your face. 

“I love you too, my little angel.” Billy murmurs, before capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, hands still cradling your face. 

He tastes like beer and cigarette smoke and some faint traces of artificial cherry flavoring; oh, that bastard better not be eating any of your sour cherry candy, you think for a second; but that thought is quickly discarded when Billy decides to deepen the kiss, taking not just your breath away but also every coherent thought you ever had. 

Fuck, his kisses still make you feel dizzy and breathless and weak in the knees, and you can’t help the small whine that escapes your lips.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Steve suddenly calls out, voice a little exasperated. 

“Stop distracting me like this.”

“Stop getting distracted, pretty boy.” Billy counters, flashing Steve one of his million-dollar smiles. 

“Besides, You’ll get your kisses soon enough, no need to be jealous, just focus on the road.”

“I’m not jealous!” Steve huffs, “You’re both mine anyways, I just don’t like missing out.”

“Aww, poor Stevie, you want me to kiss your ego better?” Billy questions teasingly, patting Steve’s shoulder in condolences. 

“For a matter of fact, yes.” Steve grumbles quietly, lips formed into a small pout, and you coo, before grabbing his hand on the makeshift.

“Sorry, my love, but you know how easy it is to get carried away with a menace like Billy.” you tease, and Steve just groans while Billy shots you both a playful wink. 

“You know what I feel like having?” Steve suddenly questions, trying to change the subject.

“Roadhead?” Billy offers. 

“A heat stroke?” You counter. 

“Some good fucking music?!” You and Billy exclaim at the same time, and you two excitedly clap your hands together. 

Great minds think alike. 

Or maybe Robin was right, and the three of you just share one singular brain cell.

“No, actually,” Steve states, seemingly confused, “I was about to say my Tripe Power Push Pops but-“ 

“Your what?!” Billy inquires, eyebrows raised and a little dumbfounded, and you just groan in disbelieve. 

“Steve, please tell me you’re not seriously thinking about your candy, again.” 

“Oh, you’re kidding, right?” Billy adds, and you two look at your shared boyfriend for clarification with slight concern.

It’s only short-lived, though, because Steve can’t hide the smile that threatens to break out across his face, and you instantly know that he’s been taking you two for a ride. 

That fucker. 

“Do you guys really think that when I’m in a car with my beautiful boyfriend and my stunning girlfriend, the number one thing on my mind would be some sweets?” Steve asks, pretending to be offended.

“I would honestly not put it beyond you.” You admit with a smile that mirrors his, and Billy hums in agreement. 

“Okay, rude!” Steve complains, but when he looks over to you briefly, you see his eyes sparkle with nothing but amusement and love. 

Fuck, you really adore this guy. How you managed to end up with both Billy and Steve is still not something you can quite understand.

But here you are, in Billy’s trusty Camaro, with the two men you treasure more than anything, on your way to the most summery state of them all: California!  

Even if it’s just for a few weeks, you’re more than a little excited, and, dare you say it, a bit nervous because you’ve never been there before, and your expectations are rather high. 

You blame Billy for that. 

“So, music?” Steve’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts again, and it doesn’t take long for you to get the small box of mixtapes that Billy keeps in a rather hidden compartment of the car. You all update it frequently, adding new tapes and taking older ones out. 

Flipping through them, you know most of them and their track-lists by heart, until your eyes land on one mixtape in particular that you haven’t seen in a while, and you can’t help the surprised little gasp that slips out of your lips, eyes wide at the unsuspected discovery. 

“Billy, you still have the first mixtape I made you?” You question, while tracing your fingers carefully over the spine of its protective case.

Your handwriting on it is a bit faded now, but you can still make out the name of the title. ‘Disco Doesn’t Suck, You Do!’ it states, and you still remember how you made it for Billy after your first date, and a rather heated discussion about what actually counts as good music.

You had tried to prove a point and settle the debate with that one, but you didn’t know he still kept it after all this time, because Billy supposedly hates disco. 

“Of course, I kept it!” Billy looks at you, almost a little offended that you would even assume he might not. “I usually keep it safe in my part of the nightstand and listen to it occasionally. I just thought taking it with me to California might make sense.”

“Billy,” you whisper, “I had no idea you still listen to that tape, and I never thought you would actually enjoy it.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly say that.” he jokes, “Maybe I just brought it with me to remind myself how good my music taste is and how much yours is lacking.” 

You turn around in your seat to face Billy and instantly stick out your tongue at him. 

“Well, all I’m hearing is that you’ve been listening to the Bee Gees voluntarily, and that sounds like a damn miracle to me!” 

“They really aren’t that bad… sometimes.” Billy admits, and you beam up at him, smile bright and warm, and Billy feels like his heart is going to tumble out of his chest and into your lap, because god, you’re adorable. And the fact that something he said is making you smile this hard, well color him a little proud. 

“Oh Stevie, the first mixtape you made me is in here too!” You observe excitedly, and Steve just groans.

“Oh god, the Rod Stewart one?” 

“Uh-huh.”

You can’t help but laugh once you see the faint blush that’s creeping up Steve’s cheeks. 

“What am I gonna do? I’m so in love with you.” You teasingly sing parts of the chorus to your boyfriend, and he just shakes his head, slightly embarrassed.

“I can’t believe I chose a Rod Stewart song to tell you that I’m into you.” He mumbles, cheeks a fiery red and eyes averted. 

“That’s the part that surprises you?” Billy quips in, “I’m more surprised that it actually worked.”

“Oh, shut it, there’s a time and place for Rod Stewart.” You defend Steve, though Billy looks rather unconvinced. 

“Yeah, in hell maybe.” 

“Billy!” you scold with a laugh, before pulling your attention back on Steve, who looks a little deflated.

“Don’t mind him, Stevie! I thought your idea was rather cute and endearing then, and I still think it’s rather cute and endearing now.” You state earnestly, looking at Steve with loving eyes, and this time his flustered state has a different origin.

He’s just as much head over heels for you as he has been since day one of you dating, and he still considers you the best thing in his life. Well, you and Billy now, because that mullet-haired beachboy ended up flipping both of your lives upside down, but in the best way possible. 

“So, what do we want to listen to first?” you question, your eyes still skimming the different tape titles, unaware to Steve’s silent swooning. 

“I-uh, I actually made a little mixtape for you two.” Billy quietly mumbles, before holding out a little rectangular object to you.

“It’s just something I made for the trip.” Billy’s voice sounds unusually raw, and you turn around in your seat again to face him fully.

“That’s such a sweet idea, Billy! Thank you!” You gush, before gently taking the tape from him, his fingers gracing yours in the process.

The mixtape looks just like all the other ones, except this one has the words California ’87 scribbled on its cover in Billy’s illegible handwriting, and there are three cheesy hearts drawn underneath it, each one adorned with different initials: Yours, Steve’s, and Billy’s. 

“Aw, look at you, you secret sab! Billy, that’s adorable!” You briefly hold the mixtape with its case out for Steve to admire it as well, and he nods in agreement.

“Jeez, Billy, you’re gonna make my heart nut.” 

“Stevie!” You playfully slap his shoulder, before turning back towards your other boyfriend, who looks rather shy all of the sudden, and it makes your chest swell with even more adoration.

“Oh, Billy, come here.”

Before he can even react, you’re already pulling him closer by the collar of his loose shirt, and then your lips are on his in an instant.

The kiss is slow, deep, and sensual; and a bit unsuspected for Billy, who can’t quite help the small moan escape from his lips. 

“Guys…” Steve warns, after what feels like two seconds for you, and two eternities for Steve. “This is really unfair when all I can do is watch.” 

You break the kiss reluctantly, and Billy instinctively chases your lips, making you giggle in between the small pecks you keep exchanging; but after Steve clears his throat once more, you two part for good, and you try to pull your attention back on the mixtape in your lap. 

“There should be songs for everyone to enjoy on it.” Billy clarifies, voice still a little breathless from the kisses. 

“So, Rod Stewart for Steve?” you tease, and Billy just huffs before stating, “Uh, my love knows no bounds, except one, it seems.” 

“Okay, fair enough, because not all of us can have impeccable taste, and my love goes deep enough to overlook your lack thereof.” Steve fires back, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing again. 

God, how you adore these dorks. 

While the two men you call your own are still bickering in the background, you decide to put the mixtape to its use, curious on what Billy might feature on it. 

At the sound of the tape player starting, the boys get unusually quiet quickly; Steve, just as curious as you, and Billy waiting and watching for your reactions carefully.  

You immediately know what song’s playing as soon as the first notes hit, and the squeal that leaves your lips comes from somewhere deep within your soul.

It’s Fleetwood Mac’s Everywhere, and you absolutely adore this song. Billy normally teases you all about it; “What’s with you and that hippie band?” he’ll playfully taunt, but in reality you know he doesn’t hate them half as much as he claims to do.

Nevertheless, you didn’t expect the song at all, and you can’t help but sing along; something that Steve instantly joins in on.

Billy groans, trying to look annoyed, but he has a hard time containing his smile when he watches you two have the time of your life, trying to hit the high notes of the song – and failing miserably.

“Oh, I ~, I want to be with you everywhere!” Steve croaks, flailing his arm around for emphasis, making you and Billy laugh.

You’re beaming with joy throughout the whole song, and Billy’s chest tightens; he loves you both so fucking much, and he's hit with the realization once again while watching you two.

He still can’t quite wrap his mind around the fact that this is real.

That he’s actually on his way to California with the two people he adores the most, and that he gets to share this journey with you.

He hasn’t been back to the West Coast since moving to Hawkins years ago, and the prospect of it is both exciting and nerve-racking; but he feels at ease knowing that you and Steve are right there by his side.

The road trip so far has been rather chaotic, but he wouldn’t expect anything else from the two people he secretly considers the loves of his life.  

By now the song has changed to a Survivor one that Steve really likes, and he catches Billy’s gaze in the rearview mirror, mouthing a silent “I love you” before continuing with his singing, hands tapping the beat on the steering wheel with quite some passion and rhythm, and Billy is unsure how he will survive this trip with the way his heart and brain keeps short-circuiting at every small thing either one of you does.

God, he’s in deep, and that used to be something that would scare him, but not anymore. Not when you have been the most patient with him throughout the last year of you three dating.

Billy knows it’s unconventional, and god knows it’s not always easy, but each time he hears Steve’s hearty laugh, or the way his name falls from your lips, he’s reminded once more just how worth it it really is. 

“You okay there, love?” Your voice calls him back to reality, “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Yeah, I-sorry. I’m alright, just thinking.”

“You wanna share these thoughts?” Steve questions, concerned eyes finding his once more in the narrow rearview mirror.  

Billy just shakes his head, and you don’t push him. 

“Okay, anyone else as hungry as me?” Steve decides to change the subject instead, and both you and Billy nod. 

“You want your triple power push pops yet?” Billy teases, glancing at the pile of sweets that still takes up quite a lot of space next to him. 

„No, I was thinking something a little more savory; Mc‘s maybe?“ 

“Craving a happy meal, I see?”

“Fuck off. Besides, they’re fun.”

You just roll your eyes at your boyfriends antics, looking out of the window to watch the bypassing scenery and maybe spot the next large fries sign in the meantime. 

You’ll probably have to switch driving duties soon as well, and another glance at the map would probably be a good idea too. If the driving stays as smooth as it has been so far, you might be able to make it to Albuquerque, New Mexico, by the end of tonight. The three of you just have to find a somewhat decent motel for a couple of hours of sleep, and then it should only be 13 more hours till California from there in the morning.

The mixtape is now playing a Mötley Crüe song, you notice, because is it really one of Billy’s mixtapes if it doesn’t feature at least one metal tune?

You doubt it.

Humming along quietly, you continue your quest for a nearby diner, eyes scanning the surrounding area while the sun slowly starts to get lower, and your boys keep joking around in the background. 

“Billy, stop it, you little shit.” 

Glancing at your two boyfriends, you can’t help but smile at the scene.

Billy and Steve are sitting next to each other, sharing the booth seat right across from you, and Billy keeps hogging the last fries, seemingly trying to feed them to Steve before eating them himself instead.

His laugh is loud and earnest, and it fills both the surrounding space and your hearts with an unimaginable warmth. You watch him gaze at Steve with loving eyes, before shaking his head in slight disbelieve. 

“I just don’t understand how you fell for this the fourth time.”

Steve playfully pokes Billy’s side at that.

“It’s ‘cause I keep thinking you’ll be a considerate boyfriend and share.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, pretty boy. I forgot you’re a hopeless optimist with a short memory span. Here-“

“No, I’m not falling for this again.” 

You watch the two fool around like that for a little while longer, before letting your eyes wander briefly through the rest of the restaurant. It’s not particularly busy, and the booth you picked out is rather hidden.

You’re almost done anyways; the burgers and nuggets long since finished, with only their cardboard packaging remaining on the table in front of you.

Well, those and Steve plastic dalmatian dog toy, that kind of looks like a cow.

“They sure provide some quality offerings in those happy meals.” Billy had commented dryly, upon seeing the supposed dog, earning him a crumbled-up napkin straight to the face from Steve.

With the boys still fighting over the last few fries, you decide to clean the dining table up a bit, collecting some of the trash on your tray and carrying it to the nearby cart.

By the time you’re back at the table, you’re boyfriends have managed to munch down the last of the fries; except for one that they saved for you.

So considerate; but you decline it when Billy offers to feed it to you. Instead, you steal his coke, taking a big swing from it before getting up again.

“Come on boys, we should get back on the road.” You state, because someone needs to keep the time in mind - and with the way that Steve’s absentmindedly fidgeting around with the plastic toy, and Billy’s on his third yawn within the last two minutes, you doubt it will be either one of them.

How they can go from hyperactive kids to sleepy toddlers in the span of seconds is worth a study in itself, you think, before watching Steve pull desperately on a push door. 

Yeah, the thing with the study seems about right. 

It’s quiet in the car now, except for the gentle music playing in the background and the soft snores coming from your boyfriends.

Steve had been the first one to knock himself out on the passenger seat, and after talking a little bit more with Billy, and him making sure that you’d be alright driving by yourself without any conscious company for a bit, he ended up falling asleep as well.

There’s barely any other cars on the highway, and the darkness of the night has slowly started to settle in all around you. It’s a peaceful and quiet atmosphere, one that’s only amplified by the Roxy Music song that’s currently coming through the speakers.

You hum along to it, enjoying Bryan Ferry’s melancholic voice and the comforting feeling that the moment provides.

Glancing over to Steve, and then to Billy, you can’t help but smile to yourself at their image.

Steve’s still holding the tiny adnomination of a dog tightly in one hand, forehead pressed against the window, and you wonder if you should wake him up, because the sleeping position looks anything but comfortable.

Billy on the other hand, had decided to get one of your Sweatshirts from the trunk earlier, bunching it up as a makeshift pillow. But he’s been moving around too much, and now he’s simply clinging to it in his sleep, with his head leaning back against the Camaro seat, lips parted as little huffs escaping him every now and then.

You wonder what either one of them is dreaming about, quietly hoping it’s something pleasant, before turning your attention back towards the empty road in front of you.

Steve is the one to wake up first.

It makes sense, you think, because he’s probably been sleeping the longest so far.

When he turns his head to you, eyes still heavy from the previous slumber, you have to stifle a laugh because his hair looks like it’s been having a mind of its own, sleepwalking into every possible direction, and instinctively you smooth parts of it out with your free hand.

“It looks like your hair is trying to get away from you, Steve.” You tease with a quiet giggle.

“Make it stay.” He mumbles, voice groggy, and head evidently still clouded with sleep. “Don’t let it get away.”

“I’m trying,” you promise, stroking his hair carefully, until he slips back into sleep, and you watch him with fond eyes.  

He wakes up again 15 minutes later, and this time he’s more conscious. His hair looks less wild now, too, but he still asks you to play with it.

“Feels nice.” He whispers, leaning into your hand, and you laugh quietly, mindful of the fact that Billy’s still sleeping.

“You’re aware that I'm currently driving, right?”

“Mhm, just a little bit longer, please.”

“Fine.”

“What’s that playing?” 

“Slave to Love.” 

“You tryin’ to tell me something?” 

You laugh again softly, before shaking your head. “No, just in the mood for Bryan Ferry.” 

“Like, carnally?” 

“No, dingus. Spiritually. Although now that you mention it, don’t give me any ideas.” 

“Hm, don’t let Billy hear you.” 

“He’s still fast asleep.” You observe after a quick glance into the rearview mirror.

“He is?” Steve mumbles, before turning his head back around, trying to see for himself. 

“Why? What’s going on?” You question quietly when you see the slight worry in Steve’s tired eyes. 

“Does he seem odd to you?” He whispers, voice and words so hushed, you almost would have missed it. 

“He’s been a little quiet today.” You acknowledge, looking back at the day, “But I don’t blame him. This trip is exciting but it’s also a little scary. Especially for him.” 

“Hm.” Steve hums, as if deep in thought. “I’m a bit worried about him.” He admits carefully.

“’I’m scared that he’ll retreat back into himself. That being in California will be too much, but he won’t want to say anything because he doesn’t want to ruin our little summer holiday.”

You’re quiet for a while, reflecting on the events of the day and Steve’s words.

“I get what you mean, but I think we should be talking to Billy directly about that, instead of speculating on how he’s feeling.” 

“I’m not trying to speculate.” Steve defends in a whisper, “I’m just worried that this trip is going to bring up a lot of his old trauma and baggage, and instead of talking to us about it, he might feel the need to push through it all by himself, because the trip is supposed to be fun.”  

You’re silent again while you set a turn signal, moving over to a different lane, before speaking up again softly.

“You certainly have a point, and it has crossed my mind too, but I think that we should try talking to him first. Maybe we have to be a bit more reassuring and determined in reminding Billy that whatever it is he’s feeling, we’re not leaving, and he’s not being a bother.

That no matter what’s coming up emotionally for him during the trip, he won’t have to go through any of it alone; won’t have to face any of these painful memories all by himself.”

“Yeah, we should definitely do that,” Steve mumbles, before adding, “I’m just always a little worried about smothering him, you know. He can be so stubborn sometimes and-“

Billy suddenly starts moving a little with a small groan, and it has Steve and you stopping in your tracks.

“Maybe we should adjourn this conversation.” You propose, voice hushed, after Billy has settled back into his seat, seemingly still fast asleep. 

“Right, that might make sense. And then tomorrow we’ll figure the rest out together because we are a threeam team.” Steve jokes quietly, a proud look on his face at his pun.

You just groan, but there’s a small smile on your lips regardless, although it’s quickly replaced by a big yawn.

“You want me to take over with the driving?” Steve offers, and you gently shake your head.

“No, but maybe keep your eyes open for any possible motel signs.” You suggest, and Steve nods his head in understanding.

“Yeah, a comfy bed and some more sleep does sound appealing.”

Steve’s quiet for a while and then he suddenly states, “You know I fucking love you, right?”

You look over at him, eyebrows raised in surprise at the unsuspected admission.

“I just-I don’t think I say it enough, you know. And I fear that with all the teasing it might get drowned out sometimes. So, I just want you to know that I fucking love you. I really do. You still make my heart speed up with each of your smiles and I’m really excited about this trip we’re taking. Oh, also there’s a motel sign to your right.” 

The motel Steve ended up spotting turned out to be rather nice. At least if the bright, non-flickering neon lights are anything to go by. 

Riverside Mill Motel it advertises in bright pink letters – yet there’s not a single mill or river in sight; but you let that pass for the night. 

After parking the car on the dusty gravel, Steve had offered to get the keys while you’d try to wake up Billy in the meantime.

Getting out of the Camaro with a small groan and a stretch, you make your way around the car towards Billy’s side. 

He’s still fast asleep, entirely unfazed by the sound of the car doors opening and closing again. His face is still pressed against your hoodie, and you can’t help but smile at how cute and peaceful he looks. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” you whisper, voice soft, and low, brushing a few strands of his hair out of his face carefully. His eyes flutter slightly at your touch, but otherwise he stays asleep, mumbling something unintelligible.

You gently stroke his cheek and just watch him for a moment. Watch the way his chest falls and rises steadily; the way his long lashes brush against his freckled-adorned skin, and the way his soft pink lips form into a pout. 

Probably dreaming about losing the last fries to Steve, you think with a smile. 

But you’re still on a mission, and even though it pains you a little to disturb his peaceful slumber, you know you’ll have to wake him up, because carrying him to bed is not an option. 

Not for you anyways. 

“Billy, my love, you’ve gotta wake up,” you whisper, but the only answer you get is another incomprehensible mumble. 

“We’ve reached our final destination for the night, sweetheart.”

You still caress his face gently with your hand, and he instinctively nuzzles into it, even in his sleep. 

Maybe it’s because he subconsciously knows it’s you and it finally feels safe to chase the touch of a loved one. The little action certainly has your heart and chest swell with a warm and fuzzy feeling, as you continue your ministrations; whispering soft words paired with gentle touches until finally, Billy’s eyes slowly flutter open, gaze a little confused and unfocused. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you coo, “Welcome back, we made it to-“ 

“California?” Billy sleepily mumbles, before the gears start turning in his head for a second, and he follows his previous words up with a slightly exasperated, “The fuck am I even saying.” 

You laugh at that, and something in Billy instantly shifts at the sound. There’s a certain clarity in his eyes when he looks up at you again, pure adoration written all over his features. 

“Hey..” he whispers, voice still raspy with sleep, but there’s an undertone to it that you know all too well, and it has you shaking your head in amusement.

“Oh, don’t even start, Casanova. We’re going straight to bed.” 

“That’s what I was about to suggest-wait, where are we exactly?”

“Somewhere close to Albuquerque.” 

“Really? We actually made it this far?” 

“You questioning my driving skills, Hargrove?” 

“No! Ma’am! Wouldn’t dream of it.” The smile on Billy’s face is dopey and slightly suggestive, but it’s also traced with sleep, and you sigh. 

“Alright, big boy let’s get you to bed.” You state, while opening the car door wider, so Billy can step out.

“Hey! Take me out to dinner first, lady.” He mutters under his breath before laughing quietly to himself. 

Jesus, Steve is really rubbing off on him. Not that you mind, but still. 

“Didn’t you forget something, handsome?” You call after Billy, once he's making his way towards the motel building with a little  too much determination and self-assurance for someone who doesn’t actually have any real clue of where to go. 

Your words have him stopping in his tracks in an instant, and he quickly turns around, making his way back towards again you with big strides. 

“You’re right, sorry.” He mutters, while engulfing you in a hug that takes you by surprise.

“Thank you for driving and getting us here safe.” He mumbles against your ear, before planting a big wet kiss on your forehead.

“Love you forever.” 

Sleepy Billy still seems awfully similar to drunk Billy, you notice with a soft smile, and his sweet action almost made you forget why you had called him back over in the first place. 

The luggage. 

You won’t have to take all of it with you, just the valuables and the shared bag with the toiletries, because Steve told you earlier that he really craved a shower.

When you go to the trunk to get the things, Billy follows you like a lost puppy, before subtly slipping his big hand into yours, gazing down at you innocently while waiting for your reaction. 

God, he can be such an utter sweetheart- 

“Hey! To the handsome fella with the bedroom eyes, and the lady that looks like zombie stand-in for the Thriller music video, meet me in room 245.” Steve’s voice calls out, and you spot him on the balcony of the second floor, waving with what seems to be a pair of keys. 

“What’s that fucker thinking?” Billy mumbles quietly. 

“My thoughts exactly,” you grumble. 

A zombie stand-in. Bold coming from a guy who- 

Whatever. You’re too tired for this. 

With the duffel bag in one hand, and Billy in the other, you make your way towards the motel complex. 

No matter how big the bed might be, you think, you’ll definitely accidentally kick Steve out of it at least once tonight. 

The motel room ends up being not too bad for, well, a motel room.

Most of its decorations and furniture are kept in deep orangey colors and dark brown tones, giving the room a slight 70s vibe. It doesn’t look to dusty or weirdly stained either, so you make your way towards the bed without much hesitation. 

“You wanna sleep in the middle?” You offer Billy, and he looks a little surprised, but that quickly fades and instead he nods his head quietly.

“If that’s alright.”

“Of course, it is.” 

Your gaze lingers on him for a moment before turning your attention back to the brunette.

“Hey Steve!” You call out.

“Yeah?”

“Catch.”

And without any further notice, the duffel bag is flying his way. Steve manages to catch it, looking slightly confused for a moment before he remembers his wish for a quick shower. 

“Thanks!” he chirps, “You know where to find me. I’ll be back in a flash.”

He’s about to step into the small bathroom, but then he turns around again.

“Forgot the most important thing,” he states, making his way back towards you and Billy on the bed.  

You look at him a little confused. 

“I’ve already locked the door and took care of the curtains, what-“

“Not what I’m talking about,” Steve interrupts. 

“Haven’t given either one of you any good night kisses yet,” he mumbles, “You two might be fast asleep once I’m out of the shower again, so this-“ he pecks your lips, “Is for you, in case I don’t get to do it again tonight.”   

Your eyes soften at his adorable gesture, and you kiss him back with ease. 

“I love you, my little zombie girl,” he whispers, “And I hope you have the bestest sleep, and I can’t wait to keep kissing your pretty face in the morning.”

Under different circumstances you would have probably countered his little jab, but you let it slide, because Steve’s been exceptionally sweet tonight. 

And you’re also really tired. 

“Love you too, Stevie,” you mumble into the kiss, “Don’t slip in the shower, and come join us really quickly again, okay?”

“Hm, god knows I’ll try,” he whispers before brushing his nose gently against yours.

“Night, my love.”

Night Stevie boy.”

He smiles at you before moving over to Billy, who’s stripped himself of everything, but his boxers, and has already slipped under the covers of the bed. 

“Now to you, my beautiful boyfriend. I’ve been wanting to kiss you all day, and it’s a shame that I won’t get to kiss you all night as a way to compensate for all the kisses I’ve missed, but we have to start somewhere so this-“ brushing his lips gently over Billy’s, “Is for you; and for me.”

Their kiss deepens quickly, and you watch the way the two men move in synch, before breaking apart again with a pant.

You know that their longing for each other tends to pent up more during the day, because they always have to be so restraint and mindful of how affectionate they can be with one another in public.

They can’t just lean in for a kiss, the way they usually do it with you, and you know that it pains them both. 

You watch how their kiss grows a little desperate; how Steve’s hand grips a fist full of Billy’s curls trying to keep him close, and how Billy moans right into the it.

It’s a sound that goes straight to your core each time, and it’s no different now, even though you’re beyond sleepy.

But then all of a sudden Steve stops and pulls away for good. Billy groans unsatisfied, trying to pull his boyfriend back by the loop of his jeans, but Steve swats his hands away, laughing. 

“This is for you teasing me all day, you little minx,” he tells Billy, “Maybe if I’m feeling gracious you can make it up to me tomorrow.”

Billy huffs at that, but his eyes are sparkling mischievously. 

“Oh, Stevie baby, two can play a game. If you think I’ve been teasing you before you haven’t seen the best of it yet, pretty boy.”

“Pah! Then it’s on, Hargrove, because I’ve made you beg before, remember? And I’m sure I can make you beg for it again.”

You roll your eyes at their antics, though it is amusing to watch. 

“So, no good night wishes for me?” Billy observes when Steve makes his way back to the bathroom. 

“Ah, fuck.” Steve turns around once more, and it has all three of you laughing.

“I’m already messing with your head, it seems.” Billy teases, and while his voice has a cocky undertone, his eyes gaze up at Steve with utter love and longing. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Hargrove. Don’t let it get to your dick or your ego though.” 

Billy just sticks out his tongue at that. 

“Alright, Hargrove, one more good night kiss for you!” This time he carefully plants it on Billy’s forehead, before nuzzling his nose against his. “I hope you have the bestest dreams and I can’t wait to beat you tomorrow at your own teasing games.” 

“You wish! But I’d like to see you try.”

“Just you wait, you’ll see me try and win.”

“Go shower, Steve, and dream on.”

“We’ll see. good night, loverboy.”

“Night, Stevie. Love you lots.” 

“Love you more.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Wanna bet-“

“Guys! Do you mind taking your dick measuring games elsewhere. How do you even manage to make everything into a competition?” You huff, before adding with a teasing tone, “Besides, isn’t it obvious that I’m the one who loves you two the most, otherwise I wouldn’t be putting up with any of this and-“ 

You’re interrupted suddenly by four tickling hands, and the laughing voices of Billy and Steve. 

“She’s the biggest brat in the universe, isn’t she?” Steve observes. 

“Uh-huh, should probably teach her a lesson about that.” Billy adds with a grin, his hands still tickling you relentlessly.

“Guys, stop that’s so unfair.” You plead, voice giggly, trying to squirm away in between fits of laughter but to no avail. The shenanigans continue until you’re completely breathless and begging, and it’s only then that the boys show you some mercy.

Your men are almost as much out of breath as you are by the end of it, and Billy lets himself plop down unceremoniously on top of you. 

“Alright,” Steve states, before getting up from the bed, “I should probably head into the shower now, and you should really get some sleep, we still have quite the journey planed tomorrow.”

You just nod, too exhausted for anything else, and Billy gives him the most unmotivated thumbs up you’ve ever seen.

Steve’s quick to disappear into the bathroom after that, while Billy helps you out of your summer dress.

You two curl up in bed quickly, exchanging sleepy I love you’s, lazy kisses and good night’s. You can still faintly hear Steve’s voice coming from the shower, singing some Olivia Newton-John song, and you smile at the mental picture of it, before drifting off to sleep. 

You wake up to the unsettling feeling that something is wrong.

Something is missing and you find out quickly that you’re kind of right, because Billy isn’t next to you anymore.

At first, you just think he must have cuddled up more towards Steve or something; but that thought gets quickly discarded when you look over to your dark-haired boyfriend, who’s taking up most of the bed, classic starfish position, with Billy nowhere to be seen. 

You try to ignore the way your heartrate picks up, straining your ears for any small sounds, because maybe Billy’s in the bathroom, but there’s no light coming from beneath the door, and you can’t hear anything out of the ordinary either, so that’s probably not right.

Slipping out of the bed carefully, you go looking for your dress, but you have absolutely no clue where Billy lazily threw that one earlier, so instead you settle with Steve’s t-shirt, that’s actually Billy’s, but Stevie-sticky-fingers likes to bend these little rules of ownership.

After being somewhat modestly dressed, you carefully make your way towards the door, mindful of the softly snoring boyfriend behind you.

The door isn’t locked, you notice, something you’re pretty sure you did earlier, and the subtle worry inside of you rises up once again.

Taking a deep breath, you open it, and peak your head outside first, but there’s nothing.

The balcony in front of you is completely empty and left in the dark with no sights of Billy. 

God, this can’t be happening, you think, and now you try to remember whether or not you saw Billy’s car keys on the nightstand.

But he wouldn’t just leave like that, would he?

You think about waking Steve up, when suddenly, you see it.

There’s a flicker of a cigarette, and the shadow of a hunched-up figure sitting on the steps of stairs.

You’re not sure how you managed to miss that silhouette two seconds ago, but the longer you look at it, the more you’re convinced that it’s Billy.

“Billy?” you whisper his name lightly into the night, “What are you doing out here?”

His head whips around at the sound of your voice; he looks like he’s been crying, and you feel your heart sink and shatter at the sight. 

Oh no. 

Ignoring the fact that both your feet and legs are completely bare, you hastily make your way over to your boyfriend.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?�� He tries to turn away again, mumbling something about it not being a big deal – but it has to be if he’s out here at god-knows-what hour, sitting alone, crying and smoking, while his partners are peacefully sleeping two doors down.

Or three.

You didn’t actually count. 

“Billy, hey,” you whisper, after sitting down next to him and carefully cradling his face in both of your hands, giving him no choice but to look at you.

You see his lips tremble slightly, and his eyes are getting teary again. He tries hard to blink them away, but it’s just no use because they keep coming, and you can see that he’s frustrated with himself. 

“Oh, my love,” you whisper, voice endlessly soft and so full of understanding that it breaks Billy’s last restrains, and he reaches out and hugs you, really hugs you, like his life’s depending on it.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck and clings to you with such desperation and need, like you’re the one thing that’s keeping him afloat in the undoubtedly tumultuous sea of emotions he’s currently lost in. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles over and over again, like a single prayer; and all you can do is hold him and repeat your own little prayer, that it’s alright, that it’s okay, and that he can just let it all out; you’ve got him. 

You still don't know what's wrong, what's got him so upset, but you don't want to push him right now.

You're not sure how long you two end up sitting there on the cold metal stairs of the motel, underneath a starry sky, until Billy's tears cease, and he mumbles, “I'm sorry, we haven't even made it to California yet and I'm already ruining the trip.”

“Oh, honey, no!” You whisper, “Billy, my love, you haven't ruined anything!” 

And Billy gently lifts his head at that, looking at you with wide eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “No?” He sniffles, and it breaks your heart all over again. 

“No, Billy, you haven't ruined anything. I promise!”

“But I woke you up. You should be sleeping, and you-you're not supposed to see me like this, I-“ His voice sounds so utterly raw, that you feel like your heart is being ripped out of your chest and skinned alive. 

Billy curls up into you again, hiding away in your soft embrace, and you gently brush your hands through his hair before asking, "You wanna tell me what's got you this upset, my love?”

Your voice is nothing but patient and loving and everything that Billy needs in this moment. 

“Bad dream,” he mumbles, and before you can even remind him of the fact that he's supposed to wake at least one of you up he states:

"I know, I should have told you, but it wasn't that bad. It really wasn't! I just, I couldn't fall back asleep after it; I kept worrying, and it all got too much, and I thought maybe a smoke and some fresh air could calm me down, but the thoughts just kept coming and they wouldn't stop and-“

“What kind of thoughts?” you whisper. 

Billy's quiet for a while, before he mumbles, in the smallest voice you've ever heard.

“My mom.”

Another heartbeat of silence fills the summer night air, and then Billy whispers, almost unintelligible, “Kept thinking about my mom.”

“Oh, Billy.” 

The revelation doesn't come that surprising; you've assumed something along those lines, but it breaks your heart still.

You decide to sit down on his lap, so he can face you fully.

He instinctively wraps his arms more securely around your sides, and you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck, before playing softly with the strands of his hair, a habit that you know puts him at ease. 

“Tell me more about it,” you whisper, before leaning your head gently against his shoulder, looking up at him with eyes full of patience and love, and Billy swears he could melt right then and there.

But he's quiet for a while once more.

There must be a pond somewhere near, you think, because you can hear frogs croaking in the distance, and there are still some crickets chirping a summer night tune. 

You watch Billy's eyes wander unfocused over the horizon, and then the hand on your waist tightens before he whispers:

“I still miss her. I know it's silly; especially after all this time and considering what she's done, but I still miss her.” 

“It's not silly,” you reassure him, “It's not silly at all.”

“Well, but it feels silly. It feels childish and wrong to miss her. And I thought I had that under control, at least while we were in Hawkins, I did; but now that-that we're going back to California, I fear that she's going to be everywhere.

And I don't just mean the memory of her; I mean actually her. 

I'm scared that I will see her in any person that resembles her looks, even slightly. And that I will be both, relieved and disappointed each time it isn't her.” 

“Oh, my love.” You mumble, voice pained, and slightly unsure of what to say. 

“I just-I just want to understand it, you know? I just want to understand why she left me all alone with him, when she knew exactly what he was capable of. I want to understand why she wouldn’t come and get me like she promised. If it was something that I did, that made her-that made her never come back; I know I couldn’t protect her, but I-“ 

“Oh, Billy, no! Billy, you were a kid!” You whisper, cradling his face in both of your hands.

“You were a kid, Billy! There’s nothing that you could have done that would warrant the fate you got. You were a fucking child, and it was never your responsibility to keep your mom safe. If anything, it was the other way around, love. She was supposed to keep you safe; both of your parents were, and they both failed miserably; but that was never your fault!” 

The tears are back in Billy’s eyes, and by now you’re sure they’re back in yours too. 

“You know what the worst thing is?” He whispers, voice on the verge of breaking again, and you pull him as close as humanly possible.

“The worst thing is that I would forgive her in a heartbeat. Like, how pathetic is that?” 

“It’s not pathetic at all, Billy. It really isn’t.” You state with a determined shake of your head. 

“After everything that happened to you, the fact that you still haven’t given up on your mom is more a reflection on how much you want to still see the good in her, regardless of what happened. And I think it’s natural for you to miss her, especially ‘cause you’ve never gotten any real closure. It makes sense that you would long for answers.” 

“Even after all this time?” 

“Even after all this time.” You confirm gently. 

“A wound like that doesn’t just heal because some time has passed. And it probably doesn’t help that your relationship to her is so complex; because you associate both, really happy memories with her, and really painful ones; and it’s hard to mend those two with one another and try to make sense of it all; because it just really doesn’t.” 

Billy looks at you, glossy-eyed and a little shy. 

“You really think so?” 

“Oh, you bet I do.” 

There’s the hint of a smile gracing Billy’s face before he suddenly gets worried again.

“And you’re not mad?” 

“Mad? Billy, what would I be mad about?” 

“Me,” he whispers, “This trip is supposed to be relaxing and fun and just overall good times, and instead we’re sitting outside of a motel, crying because I-“ 

“Because you miss your mom; and you have every right to miss her, just like you have every right to have mixed feelings about her, or have a wish for closure. Whatever that might look like.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, contemplating your next words carefully. 

“Billy, do you want to know a secret?” you whisper, and you watch him furrow his brows slightly before nodding his head softly.

“Do you know why I wanted to go to California out of all places? Do you know what I’m most excited about seeing there?” 

Billy shakes his head lightly, and you continue:

“It’s because you always talk about it with the biggest, most beautiful smile on your face. Because loving you made me love California. It’s almost like it’s an extension of you. And I’ve only ever seen it through your eyes, and I can’t wait to see it through my own.

But the thing I’m most excited about; the thing I can’t wait to see, is for you to be back there. For you to be back at the ocean, back in your element, to witness you burry your feet in the soft sand like you used to as a kid.

To see you reunite with a place you’ve been craving and yearning and dreaming about for the last three years. I can’t wait for you to show me and Steve around; to get to make all these amazing memories with you – with you and Steve because I love you both so much.” 

Taking another deep breath, you add, “And Billy, whatever might happen within the next three weeks, you won’t have to go through any of it alone. You won’t have to face any of it by yourself, you have me and Steve right here by your side now, and we’re not going anywhere.”

Billy is sniffling again, eyes teary and touched, and you gently kiss the small droplets from his cheeks, ever so softly.

“But Billy, in order to be of help, you have to talk to us. I’d like to think that I know you very well, but even I can’t read your mind; and the only thing more painful than knowing that you’re suffering through old wounds and memories is knowing that you’re suffering through it alone.

I know I won’t be able to take away all the pain or the hurt you might be feeling, but it might soothe some of it, if you’re sharing it with me, with me or Steve.” 

Billy looks at you again with those piercing blue eyes, the ones you fell in love with over a year ago, and this time they are full of adoration and wonder. 

“I don’t deserve you.” he whispers, and you shake your head silently, hands still cupping his face.

“That’s the thing, Billy, you do. You do deserve me, me and Steve, and all kinds of good things in this world, hell you deserve half of California at the very least if you ask me.” 

The little laugh that leaves Billy’s lips is small and timid, but it’s still something, and you hold on to that.

You gaze into each other’s eyes once more. He’s so close, you can count each and every freckle on his already sun-kissed skin.

God knows you and Steve have tried doing that a hundred times before, failing miserably each time, because you always get distracted by the loving look on Billy's face, so full of patience and adoration, while your fingers keep tracing every single dot on his face.

His lips usually twitch in a smile while you try hard not to lose count, or give into the growing urge to kiss him, the longer your eyes linger on his beautiful face. It’s infuriatingly impossible, really. But one day, you will be able to count them all, each and every fucking freckle.

Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. 

“You wanna get back to bed and try for another few hours of sleep?” you question, hands still tangled in his hair.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

“Okay, let me just-“ you’re cut off by your own squeak, as Billy decides to get up, with you still in his arms.

“Billy, what-“

“Shh, just let me carry you at least. Don’t want to let you go just yet.” 

You can’t argue with that, and so instead you curl more up in his embrace, legs securely wrapped around his waist and arms flung around his neck. 

“Still so strong,” you mumble quietly, slightly in awe, and Billy laughs softly.

“Gotta be able to take care of my girl at least.”

You nuzzle his neck at that, trying to hide your smile. 

His girl.

That still gets you every time. 

When you step back into the motel room, Steve is still knocked out, but he wakes up slightly when the bed dips significantly because of you two. 

“What’s going on?” he mumbles, hair tussled, and eyes puffy.

“Had a little conversation.”

“At what, three in the morning?” Steve raises his head, slightly alarmed, and the worried furrow between his brows deepens when he realizes that both Billy and you have been crying.

“Shh, it’s okay. We’re okay now, I’ll tell you everything in the morning.” Billy soothes, trying to keep Steve from completely waking up.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, had a bit of a melt-down, but our girl helped me through it. I promise I tell you everything after sunrise.”

Steve huffs something you can’t quite make out, but he seems convinced enough, because he snuggles closer to Billy, before carefully kissing his tear-stained cheek.

“Love you so much,” he murmurs, “Got me all worried and shit.”

“Don’t be, I’m okay now – we both are.”

“Yeah,” you nod your head, though you doubt Steve can see it in the dark.

“Let’s try to get at least a little bit more sleep.”

You nuzzle into Billy’s left side, while Steve occupies his right, and Billy let’s out a satisfied little sigh, before kissing each of your foreheads gently.

“Love you two crackheads so much.” He whispers, “Thank you for always looking out for me.”

“Always,” you mutter, sleep already taking over half of your brain, and the last thing you notice is Steve’s hand brushing against yours, trying to hold a part of you too. 

You wake up the next morning to someone playing gently with your hair, and soft kisses being peppered all over your face.

“There she is,” Billy’s raspy voice coos once you slowly open your eyes.

“Hey, there sweetheart,” He whispers, “I’m sorry I’m waking you up like this, but we need to get going. Steve’s already in the car outside waiting, and you need to get dressed.”

“Hmm, don’t wanna.” You huff, voice tired and ruff.

“I know, love, but can’t carry out of this motel room in just your panties. You can go back to sleep right after; you just gotta help me slip you into your dress, and then I’ll do everything else.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Billy keeps true to his words, and after getting you dressed into your summer dress, he carries you carefully to the Camaro, where you fall back asleep almost instantly.

You’re not sure how many hours have passed when you wake up again, but you feel a lot more well rested. You can hear the faint sounds of some music and the hushed voices of your boyfriends talking, and in this moment you just feel completely at peace. 

“Ah, the little snore-snurf decided to join us again.” Steve observes with a smile, once he notices you’re awake, and you can hear Billy try to bite back a laugh.

“Steve, come on, she might be a snore-snurf, but she’s our snore snurf.”

“You know what, fuck off, the both of you.” You grumble, although you can’t quite hide your smile either.

“You feeling any less tired?” Billy questions, turning around from the passenger seat, to get a better look at you.

“Yeah,” you confirm, before remembering the events of last night, and you whisper, “How are you doing?”

Billy’s eyes soften at the concerned look on your face.

“Better,” he states, “Talked to Steve about it too,” he adds, and Steve gives you a little thumbs up, his brown eyes finding yours in the rearview mirror.

“I made him promise to communicate with us better, and I want either one of you to wake me next time.” His voice is still soft, but there’s also a seriousness behind it, and you nod your head in agreement.

“You hungry yet?” Billy inquires, once you’ve sat up straight again in your seat.

“Why, do you still have a spare fry to offer?” you tease, and it has both of the boys laughing.

“No, but we had a little rest earlier, getting some quick breakfast, and I saved some pancakes and orange juice for you.”

Your eyes light up at that, partly because of the prospect of food, and partly because it’s a rather sweet gesture.

“Oh, well someone’s awake now,” Steve teases, and you stick out your tongue before turning your attention back to Billy. 

God, you really fucking love these guys. 

Despite the pancakes being rather cold, they taste amazing, though it might be your hunger talking and making that verdict.

Still, Billy watches you with loving eyes. He wants to talk to you about last night, properly thank you for it too, but that’ll have to wait for now, because you still have some hours to go, till California.

You’ve made it halfway through Arizona already. He offered Steve a while ago to flip driving duties, and it seems that Steve is finally ready to take him up on that. 

And so, a little while later, Billy’s the one driving, you’re back on the passenger seat, and Steve is having the time of his life in the backseat with all of his sweets.

He’s the purest dorks of them all.

You catch Billy glancing over at you, and you smile. He mirrors it, eyes so soft and full of love that you have to stifle the urge to just crawl into his lap and never ever leave again.

He makes you feel like you’re something truly special. Both of your boys do, and while you’re not quite sure what the future holds, you know it’s going to be good if you have Billy and Steve by your side. 

Looking out of the window again, you notice how some of the scenery has changed; or at least you like to think it did.

The excitement in your veins is running hot and fast because you know it won’t be long till you’re in California now.

You’ve listened to Billy and Steve talk earlier, when they were both brooding over your little map. You didn’t understand half of it, because reading maps has never been your strong suit, but what you did pick up was that it wouldn’t be long now, until you’d arrive in the sunny west coast state. 

Though to be fair, it would still be another hour or two until you'd arrive at the little beach house Steve rented. Family ties and all that.

Billy notices you squirming in your seat, but he’s unaware that it’s the excitement that keeps bubbling up inside of you; instead, he thinks you might be too hot, and he rolls the windows down for a gentle breeze. 

“Better, angel?” He questions, and it takes you a moment to realize what he’s talking about; you’re about to correct him, that you’re just fidgety with all the barely contained anticipation, when Steve suddenly calls out, “Oh my god, Hargrove! Is that the Boys of Summer?! Turn it up, turn it up! God, I love you and your little mixtape.”

Billy smiles and complies.

And with that the perfect summer song is blasting through the speakers.

You can feel it now, with every beat of the song that’s cursing through your veins; the freedom that’s being sung about.

It’s in the way the wind rushes in through the open window, tangling in your hair; it’s in the golden sun rays on your skin, and the big and bright smiles on Steve’s and Billy’s faces.

It’s in the love you feel for both of these men; and in this moment you feel like you’re flying, like your soul might slip out of your body and into the depths of the cornflower blue sky that’s wide, and endless somewhere above you. 

“And I can tell you, my love for you will still be strong, after the boys of summer have gone.“ Steve and Billy’s voices call out on top of their lungs.

And the laugh that leaves your lips is light and warm, like the sunbeams kissing Billy’s freckled skin. He smiles at you brightly before sending you a playful wink, and then he just continues singing.

Part of you is awestruck because he doesn’t sing often; not like that anyways. 

Sober and hearty and without any restrains. 

Steve uses one of his jolly rancher sticks as a makeshift microphone, grinning from ear to ear when the line “Remember how you made me crazy, remember how I made you scream.“ comes on, and you find yourself joining in on their little concert, dancing away in your seat, feeling completely and wholly alive. 

The song is almost done when you spot it, that cheesy ‘Welcome to California’ sign, and you cheer, pointing at it, as if Billy could’ve missed it.

He just smiles, captivated by your excitement and the pure adoration he feels for you both. 

Steve somehow manages to convince Billy to pull over, so he can take at least one picture. 

It ends up being three; you and Billy, Billy and Steve; and Steve and you.

While the polaroids develop, Steve excitedly gushes on how cute these pictures are going to be, and how this is really it; the beginning of a long adventure in California, and Billy smiles while he keeps on driving. 

It’s barely two hours later when the sun slowly starts to set, and Billy finally, finally steers the Camaro into the driveway of your little summertime get away. 

It’s a nice little beach house, and it looks warm and cozy and inviting; but you don’t quite have eyes for it now, because everyone is scrambling to get out of the car the fastest, running straight for the beach instead. 

You can unpack the car later, test the bed and the television and the sturdiness of the kitchen table all in good time; but right now, you just want to beat your boyfriends at their little race to the beach. 

Because you’re here.

You’ve finally made it to California; and the sun is setting over the seemingly endless ocean, giving everything a dreamy golden glow.

You watch your boyfriends strip themselves while running, trying to get to the ocean the fastest, because of course they are. 

Billy’s the first one to jump into the waves, but as usual it’s a close race.

You decide to keep your dress on for now, and by the time you make it to the shore, Billy and Steve are already completely and utterly soaked in salt water; and the fact that you’re not is absolutely outrageous to both of them.

Your two boyfriends are quick in making a straight beeline towards you, dragging you with them into the fresh and salty sea.

Billy captures your lips in a searing kiss, before being jumped by Steve, whose smile might be the brightest you’ve ever seen it.

You watch them both try to wrestle in the waves, their laughter filling the air with more warmth than the sun ever could, and you know you’re home.

Because that’s what both of these guys mean to you; they’re home. 

It doesn’t matter where you are, if it’s inside the Camaro, a dusty motel room, a dull franchised diner, or the most beautiful beach you’ve ever seen; you’re home, because the three of you are together; and you hope that that’s how it will always be. 

________________________

And, that's it! If you've made it this far, thank you! I hope you enjoyed reading this little story!

#billy hargrove x reader #steve harrington x reader #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #harringrove #harringrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #steve harrington x you

[whumping-valentine]

🦌 Fawn and Hunter - Part 5 🦌

"Cabin Colds"

Content: Sick Whumpee, Carewhumper

1100 Words

Hey it's part five! Who likes sick whumpees and caretaking whumpers? 👀

This part is short and simple, but it was a way for me to vent when I was sick last week, lol. The parts will get longer and more complex as we go though, so you can look forward to that!

I really wanna try and get this little story done, because afterwards I'm gonna be posting my story on Valentine, which I'm itching to share with you all. God, I can't wait for y'all to meet Valentine and Vittoria, man. It's gonna be great. But anyways, I hope you like this tiny little slice of sick whump!

       Fawn barely slept a wink that night, how could they? Tied up and in pain isn't exactly the utmost form of comfort.

       Ironically enough, it was warmer down in the basement. Though that's probably due to the numerous broken windows around the cabin, closed off with nothing more than wooden planks and tattered blankets. And last night they just added another one to the list.

       That's how Fawn would sleep for the next week. Their days consisted of the same old things, being taunted, condescended, sometimes slapped and pulled by the hair. Being treated as some pretty pet, or lowly companion. Eating nothing besides venison. It was all starting to take its toll on the poor thing.

As the days continued to tick by Fawn slowly came to the realization that they were going to be here for quite a while... unfortunately. They didn't want to completely give up hope just yet, but Hunter was quite experienced with this sort of thing, so it was apparent.

       One night, Fawn fell asleep with a sore throat, and woke up completely sick. It was freezing, but they also felt hot, all at once. Their head was pounding, their nose was running, and every muscle in their body was aching. It was pure, absolute misery, and worst of all they weren’t sure how Hunter was going to react to it. Whether or not they were going to be comforting or neglectful, Fawn liked neither option.

       Though they’ll accept any help by this point, they couldn’t just lay here, they simply couldn’t. They tried to call out to their captor, though their sore throat didn’t allow it. All they could do was cough, and a short while later, it was enough to catch their attention. All it took was one look at the poor thing for Hunter to tell they were sick. They crossed their arms and leaned their shoulder against the door frame.

       “Feelin’ bad, baby?”

       Fawn coughed, “Yes.”

       The sound of their voice made Hunter widen their eyes in surprise, “Oh, wow, you really are, poor thing." They said, still talking down to them, "Need some help?”

        Fawn would normally bicker and bite, but in this instance said, “Please.”

       Hunter didn’t waste a second going to untie them. Rope marks stained their wrists and ankles, which were growing more frail as the days ticked by as Fawn slowly lost weight and strength.

       Hunter picked them up bridal style, and carried them down to the basement, into a new room that was previously kept behind a locked door. A secret, cozy place that was actually rather nice, and well kept. They laid Fawn down on a couch, lit a fireplace, then covered them up with a thick quilted blanket. They left for a few minutes and returned with a cold washcloth, which they placed on their feverish forehead.

       “Do you want something to eat?”

       “No.”

       “Wanna rest?”

        “Yes.”

       Hunter gently lifted their head, sat down, and placed it on their lap. They ran slow fingers through their hair. They chuckled, “What, too sick to yell at me for this, are you?”

       Fawn simply peeked their eyes open, glared at them, and closed them again.

       “I see, I see. You can yell at me when you’re better.” They said, placing a hand on their head as they dragged their fingers through their now coarse hair. Fawn hated it, hated that their captor of all people was being so intimate and caring. They always hated it, but in this instance they were far too sickly to even think of biting back.

       Their head was pounding, fever burning, body sweating. Their throat was sore, it was hard to breathe, and they found themself asking for a tissue every few minutes. Their body ached, they felt nauseous, their stomach was upset, and every muscle in their body hurt. Their skin was sensitive to the touch, and they were tired as all hell but couldn’t find it in them to fall asleep.

       They weren’t sure what exactly they had, but it was probably the sickest they had ever felt in their entire life. Really, they probably had more than one thing. Being held out in an old, dirty cabin with deer carcasses all over the place is a pretty good guarantee that you’re going to catch something. Hunter was surely used to the conditions, but Fawn clearly was not.

       Eventually Fawn managed to drift off to sleep without even realizing. When they awoke again they were still there, head in Hunter’s lap. Hunter looked down at their sleepy eyes, and took the washcloth off their head to check their temperature with the back of their hand. They asked, “You feelin’ any better?”

       Fawn’s only response was a meek, hoarse, “Thirsty.”

       Hunter got up, gently laying them back down as they went to fetch a canteen of water. When they returned, they helped Fawn sit up as they held the canteen to their lips as they gulped down the whole thing at once. It felt difficult, uncomfortable, and painful to swallow due to their sore, swollen throat, but they persisted despite it.

       “Want me to grab you something to eat, too?” Hunter asked. Fawn thought for a moment, and slightly nodded.

       Hunter left to the kitchen once again, and ravaged through the old, dusty cupboards for something to feed them that wasn’t meat. They grabbed an old soup can, checked the date, and to their surprise it was still good. They rinsed a dusty bowl and poured the soup into it. They warmed it up over the stove, and retreated back down to the basement.

       "I thought you'd like something other than venison." Hunter said, sitting back down with Fawn, "How does vegetable soup sound?"

       Fawn could practically cry tears of joy. “great.”

       Fawn's head laid on Hunter's shoulder, one of their arms around them as the other fed them soup like a child. Fawn was far too sick to get upset about it, accepting the gesture with gratitude. They closed their eyes as Hunter fed them spoonfuls.

The warm, crackling fire paired with their fever made them just about ready to fall asleep. They were so feverish and tired that they even found it comforting when Hunter gently rubbed their hand up and down their back. If they had any sense of clarity in their head, they’d find the gentle gestures and caretaking insulting.

       Hunter finished feeding them the soup, placing the empty bowl on a nearby table. They looked down at the sickly thing in their arms, "Hm. I think it's time for bed, Fawn."

       "Says who?" Fawn mumbled, the soreness present in their tone.

       "Says me. You’re already falling asleep. And more sleep will do you good.”

       “What do you care.”

       “I care because I’d like to take care of my pet, that’s what.” They said, grabbing onto them as they both laid down. Fawn wanted so badly to fight against the gestures, but couldn't. They weren't sure if it was because of how ill they felt, or if it was because they actually liked it.

They hoped it wasn't the second one.

       Hunter held Fawn to their chest, their arms wrapped around them, both curled up under the blanket.

       Well, I suppose it's better than being tied to a bed. And, I guess there could always be worse creepy serial killers to be taken by...

Taglist: @parasitebunny

^^ If you want added, lmk!

#fawn and hunter #whump #whump blog #whump community #whumpblr #whump things #my writing #whump writing #sick whump #carewhumper

[labrxnth]

Misery Loves Company(Leon Kennedy x Reader Series)

Part 1: Misery Loves Company

CW: alcohol, drunkeness

WC: 6,711

Summary: After a shitty day of work, (y/n) does what she does best- drink it away. Hunnigan, concerned for her, texts a friend for a wellness check. 

Thought about this being Re4remake Leon Specifically, but you can see it as either the Remake or the OG one. His attitude and general demeanor is more aimed towards the Remake one though. 

(Y/n) was starting to really hate Stratcom. Everything that she did: working overtime, running drills over and over again, putting up with the other agents, it felt like it was in vain. All she wanted was an ounce of recognition for her hard work, maybe throw in a vacation for good measure. However, the thought of telling anyone about her craving for attention was enough to send her spiraling. 

As much as she wanted someone to tell her that she did a good job, she would never ask. 

Every time she deflected a higher officer’s knife and watched their back hit the mat, she looked at her mentor waiting for a smile, nod in respect, anything. But she was met with a cold, calculating stare and a mountain of paperwork. 

The only thing keeping her from walking out the door was the haunting image of one of her coworkers being sent to bring her back in. That, and the pay wasn’t awful. 

She was walking down the dark hallway that led from the training grounds to the offices. The hallway’s lights were always dim, but the darkness and cold were welcoming to her; they were familiar. She looked down at her hands, the knuckles bruised and bloody and shook her head to herself. 

No matter how much she beat her body, it wasn’t good enough for Stratcom; it would never be. 

After the usual 5 minute walk down the hallway, (y/n) stood in front of the door to the offices. She did a quick check, making sure her (h/c) hair was neat, her clothes the same. After about 30 seconds of touch ups, she walked through the door and squinted as her (e/c) eyes adjusted to the change from the dim hallway to the bright fluorescent office. 

She quickly made her away around the D.O.S. cubicles, refusing to walk through them. Even though it would spare her about 30 seconds, her training session left a sour taste in her mouth. A sour taste enough to want everyone else to fuck off and leave her alone. 

As she walked past a familiar figure, she begged whatever deity was watching over her that they wouldn't turn around. 

“Have a bad session?” The familiar figure turned around in her chair. 

This was why (y/n) wasn’t religious. 

“Hunnigan,” (y/n) said. She swallowed down her frustration and tried to flash the woman in front of her a smile. Hunnigan’s dark brown eyes seemed to scan over (y/n); even through her glasses, (y/n) could feel her staring. 

“You should probably take a few before you go into the agent office,” Hunnigan finally said. 

(Y/n) cracked her knuckles nervously. “I’ll be fine,” She said shortly. 

Hunnigan swiveled back to face her computer. “You have tear stains under your eyes.” She replied and went back to working. 

“Oh shit, thanks,” (y/n) mumbled. She made her way over to the office bathroom and sighed when she looked in the mirror to see her reflection. The tears of frustration that she thought had been stifled were dried on her cheekbones. Taking a paper towel, she wet it with warm water and ran it under her eyes, sighing at the relief the warm water brought her face muscles. 

After a few swipes, she threw away the paper towel and took a few deep breaths. She gripped the cold porcelain sink and dropped her head. 

“Just get through today,” She muttered to herself. 

(Y/n) stood up, stretched her arms, and rolled her shoulders a few times. Walking out of the bathroom and towards the agent offices, she felt more content than when she walked in. 

As soon as the clock hit 6:00pm, (y/n) was logging off of her computer, getting ready to leave. She stood up, collected her things, and ducked out of the agent office before anyone could say anything. 

It was tempting to sprint through the cubicles, knowing that Hunnigan would stop her on the way out. But she knew that if she did, people would talk around the office. Rumors spread around Stratcom like a wildfire; after all, people liked taking the joy in the little human things when they were literally defending the countryt. 

As she walked past Hunnigan’s cubicle an arm lightly grabbed her’s. (Y/n) looked to her side and saw the dark brown eyes staring at her again, but this time they were filled with a gentleness and not calculation. 

“Text me about it,” She said quietly. (Y/n) nodded in reply and felt the arm let her go. 

She walked to the parking lot and made her way to her car. 

She slid in the driver’s seat and turned the ignition, feeling the car come to life. The radio turned on and (y/n) flipped it to a station where she could just sit and listen to. Before she processed it, her arms were already driving to the bar near her house. 

(Y/n) parked her car and sat in the seat, asking herself if she really thought this would be a good thing to do. Her brain was telling her not to get shit-faced, she had work again tomorrow, but it was that exact work that was making her heart tell her to get shitfaced. 

Before she got out of the car, her phone lit up with a little buzz. She held it up to her face to read the text from her friend. 

What happened?

                  -Ingrid   

Nothing, I was just overreacting

-(y/n) 

Funny. I know you usually underreact to things

                                                               -Ingrid                        

it was nothing really… just training being a bitch

-(y/n)

You know if you told a certain someone that would change

                                                                                  -Ingrid 

     Absolutely not. Everyone will hate me more than they do. And I think you give him more credit than he deserves. 

-(y/n)

I’m telling him to talk to you :)

                                  -Ingrid

  Fuck you :)

-(y/n)

(Y/n) sent the reply and sighed in frustration. She grabbed her wallet and headed into the bar, not excited about how the rest of the night was going to go. If she actually had the balls she claimed she would, she’d tell him off every time he showed up and tried to get her to stop drinking. The fucking hypocrite always took her drink and finish it himself. 

Part of her was happy he was back from whatever mission he had been on for the past week, but she wasn’t happy that this was how they’d meet back up. She slid into the booth, expecting her plus one to show up sometime. It seemed that whenever Hunnigan sent him in for a wellness check on (y/n) he appeared out of thin air in no time flat. It was annoying to her self-destruction tendencies, but kind and sweet at the same time.

The weird dichotomy that their relationship walked was enough to send anyone’s head into a spiral. One minute, they were arm in arm getting coffee together, and the next they were staring daggers into the other, telling each other how much they sucked; the latter usually happened when one of them found the other making poor choices. 

Sometimes, (y/n) thought that Leon would become something else to her, but she had given up that dream a couple of years ago. She knew that he was alone for safety, he didn’t want to be vulnerable to anyone, vulnerability would mean death to him. The vodka redbull sitting on the table was starting to call to her as her thoughts drifted towards her friend. No matter how much she tried to get him to open up to her, there was a wall that he didn’t let anyone pass. 

Just another sign that (y/n) wasn’t good enough for recognition. 

She huffed a frustrated sigh and downed the drink in one go. Afterwards, she ordered a couple of shots and threw them back as soon as they arrived at the booth. (Y/n) heard her phone vibrate in her pocket, but she ignored it. 

Her mind swirled with thoughts of today’s sparring practice and everything that led up to it. She could feel the bad vibes swirling in the space around her until a familiar figure slid into the booth opposite of her. 

(Y/n)’s eyes widened at the sight of her friend across from her. “Leon,” she said. He had new cuts and scars all over his arms, being accented by the dark t-shirt he was wearing. His hands were calloused more than when he left, some burn markings on them. What caught (y/n)’s attention the most was the look on his face; he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks by his hollowed cheeks, his eyes bags, and a far away, glossy stare. 

Leon looked her up and down. She was waiting for him to take away the drink she was working on, but he ordered a drink for himself. As soon as the drink hit the table, it was almost gone. 

“What the fuck happed?” (y/n) asked. 

“I was asked to retrieve the President’s daughter from an infected village,” he said shortly. “I need a drinking buddy.” 

She nodded and sat in silence with him for a while, drinking.

“So what happened to you?” He asked and nodded at her scabbed over knuckles. 

“You know, the usual. Trainers thinking it’ll challenge me more if I spar higher ups. I had the bastard on the mat in no time, but I still got assigned extra drills.” 

“Shit,”

“You said it,” She replied and threw back another shot. “You wanna talk about the mission orrrr…” she trailed off. 

“Confidential,” he said. “But with the shit that I went through, I’m surprised I haven’t run away to be a hermit in the woods,” he snickered at his joke. 

“They give you any vacation time?” 

“Two days. I’m back tomorrow,”

“Shiiit,” She looked at him with an apologetic stare. “Sucks being Stratcom’s favorite, huh?” She looked down at her drink glass. 

“You said it,” Leon said and leaned back in the booth. He smirked at how they mirrored each other’s words. 

(Y/n) watched his ash blonde hair fall into his face and her thoughts wandered. She would’ve been able to push down the thoughts that crept into her mind if she was sober, but she couldn’t help from imagining how soft his hair must feel if she ran her fingers through it. Even after a mission from hell, he looked damn good. 

“You okay? How much have you had to drink already?” Leon’s voice pulled her out from her thoughts. He was staring into her soul, an eyebrow raised. 

“Not too much,” (Y/n) replied back. Leon looked at the empty glasses on the table and looked back at her with a look that said yeah fucking right. 

“Hunnigan said you cried today,” His eyes kept their pointed stare at her. No matter how good looking he was, Leon wasn’t the most subtle person on the planet and it made some people unnerved, but she could handle it. 

(Y/n) took a deep breath and sighed, silently cursing Ingrid. With her filter gone, she was ready to spill everything to her friend sitting across the bar; especially when he was looking at her like that. He was staring her down like he stared her down during sparring. It was a pointed stare, brows furrowed, and focused eyes; like an animal tracking its prey right before it struck. 

“I just feel like I’m never enough for anything, or anyone.” She said very quietly. “Everyday feels like hell, my body gets more bruised than I think it can. I’m chasing impossible praise and I never get even a slight smile, nod, or acknowledgement.” 

Leon kept his stare on her, making her stomach turn. Even if (y/n) was sober, she’d probably fold under that intense stare; he sure did know how to get a confession out of someone. 

“It just feels like too much,” (y/n) said softly. She watched his face soften and he slid into her side of the booth. 

“You’re a great agent. Training does suck, but you gotta get through it,” He said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Plus, I need my partner back on the field with me.”

She chuckled and looked down at the empty glass. “You’re completely lost without me,” she said.

“If I had been able to bring you with me, we would’ve finished that mission in a day,” He sighed, a bitterness in his voice. His eyes drifted off like he was lost in a memory.  

(Y/n)’s body was starting to process his hand on her shoulder and the tips of her ears had a light pink blush on it. She looked up at his sky blue eyes and almost melted in them. “I missed you…. A lot,” she whispered. “Even though I’m an asshole to you, I missed you,”

Leon snapped back to reality and looked at her (e/c) eyes. “I missed you too,” he said back. “Sometimes I need someone to be an asshole to me, people here treat me too well.”

Her eyes flicked back and forth between his eyes and his lips, wanting them to be locked with hers. Her thoughts started to wander to him holding her, kissing her, saying her name filled with love and lust. She wondered what kind of sounds he was able to make, what sounds she could get out of him and what he could get out of her. “....I love you,” (Y/n) blurted out.

She saw a change in Leon’s face that she couldn’t place and he got up out of the booth. He put money on the table for the bill and looked at her. 

“You’ve had too much to drink,” He said flatly. “Come on, I’m taking you home.” 

 Her face drained of color and she nodded, knowing that she had said something wrong, but not remembering what she just said. She nodded and got up, taking the hand that Leon offered her.

The car ride back to (y/n)’s apartment was the most awkward one she had ever taken. She sat in the passenger seat, reeling over trying to figure out what she said and reeling even more from Leon’s driving. Every time she let him drive it usually was followed with obscenities and the question of how the hell he got his license. There was a reason why his driving was infamous and it felt like signing a will whenever he was given the keys. Every turn made her stomach lurch as she tried to hold onto her chair. The radio was on, but it was really quiet and Leon was humming along to it. (Y/n) stayed silent, scared to make her situation worse. 

They pulled into the parking lot with a screech of the car tires. “Another happy landing,” Leon hummed. (Y/n)’s stomach felt like it was turned inside out and it took all of her strength to not puke all over the inside of his car. 

He got out of the car and walked over to the passenger side, opening the door for (y/n). She unbuckled herself and almost threw herself into Leon. The air was cold, a quick change from the warm car that she stumbled out of. 

Leon put one of her arms around his shoulders and put his arm around her waist. “24L right?” He asked and looked down at the slumped over woman. 

She mumbled an agreement and leaned on his shoulder for some sort of warmth. Leon kicked the passenger door closed and opened the back seat door. He grabbed a tan, fluffy, leather jacket from the back and put it on her. “Better?” He asked. She mumbled something else in reply and smiled into the jacket. 

Leon tried hiding a blush and felt the tips of his ears turn a light pink. “You better give that back to me tomorrow at work, it’s a replacement for one that got stolen on my mission.” He grumbled. He carried (y/n) to her apartment and looked to her for the key. After seeing that she was asleep against him, he dug through her purse to find the key. 

He unlocked her apartment and brought her inside. 

(Y/n) woke up with a throbbing headache and nausea that threatened to empty everything in her stomach from the past couple of days. Her hand made its way to her head and she felt something stuck to it. “What the fuck?” she grumbled and ripped a sticky note off of her forehead. After she put on her glasses, she turned the note over, seeing simple handwriting on it. 

Brought you home, wiped off your makeup and gave you pjs. Dont worry, didnt see anything. Give my jacket back, its expensive. If you meant what you said, give me a call. -Leon 

Confused, she rubbed her temple and looked over, Leon’s tan jacket catching her eyes on the bed next to her. She was trying to think of what Leon said by “if you meant what you said”. Her eyes went wide as she remembered saying three words to him. The three words that drew a wall in their friendship, the three words that she knew Leon was terrified of. The three words that meant that she would finally be enough for someone. Her mind raced as memories flashed in her head of her drunkenly saying them. 

Leon and her both knew she’d be lying if he didn’t get a phone call.

Leon would be lying if he said he didn’t wait for it.  

Can also be found on my AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46581286/chapters/117301843

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #drunken confessions #slow burn #resident evil fanfiction

[ineffablydelighted]

[Good Omens, Two weeks after S2 events...]

Nina: *bumps in* Okay, where TF is he, again?

Maggie: Hello, sir 👋

Pub owner: *sighs* Hello. Same as usual. Someone will have to pay the-

Nina: *slams two 50s on the bar* Here, done. *is under the impression she became the parent of a probably immortal being going through his first teenage heartbreak but with a middle-aged man body and a liquor license*

Maggie: *to the pub owner* Sorry about that, she's... Excuse-me... *follows Nina*

Crowley: *wasted**barely understandable**slams an empty Talisker drink on the table* StUuRpId ASSssAnGeL...

Nina: You have to STOP doing that. We have lives, you know?

Crowley: *unnatural lying position* 'nd bery short at tha', yea, I know tha'. Arn't ya' so luckeh?

Maggie: Please, Sir, you need to go home...

Crowley: *dour laugh* Yeaaaa, well, it's not asif I had tha'.

Nina: *sighs* You live in Mr Fell's Bookshop with Inspector-Naivety-Incarnate-something. Remember?

Crowley: Ah, yea, maybe, huh... *pointing an uncertain finger at Maggie* *high-pitched voice* ey, don't ya owe me rent?

Maggie: *ever seen a very pale cinnamon roll? Ya have now* Well, I...

Nina: *would cross her arms if she hadn't done that already**offended**protective almost-girlfriend* I have paid for your "coping method" a couple thousand pounds by now you didn't feel the need to repay me, so I think you should be careful before demanding any rent! Oh, and should I mention I've spent that in the course of A SINGLE WEEK?

Crowley: *looks at her with the sudden need to throw up**or to break something* No nehd to be... To be... Watevah. This is bullshit! *first sentence he somewhat says perfectly for some reason* My, my point is... Is... Bluh. He's so... BLUH!

Nina & Maggie: *look at each other in we've-heard-that-from-Monday-to-the-next-Monday**opposites face expressions though*

Crowley: *faints because he wants to* *hides his face under his 1941 hat*

Nina: Oh, no! No, no, no! That is not happening! *shakes him* Oy, wake up! I do not have all night!

Maggie: *whispers* Be gentle with him, Mr Fell is... you know...

Crowley: *ignores them**but is also listening*

Nina: *out loud* He behaves like my sister Chantel when she learned that Justin Bieber was dating Selena Gomez! Except that, my sister was fourteen at the time, not- I don't even know! How even old are you?!

Crowley: *shows his face again**yells* WHO CARES?! He's... He's... *proceeds to imitate Gollum's voice to perfection* Stupid fa- fantastic Magisshit-

Nina: Okay, enough. *grabs his arm agressively* Get up!

Maggie: *takes his hat from the floor and his glasses from the table* I don't think he can...

Nina: He can and he will! Go on, get up!

Crowley: *makes himself fall back on the sofa**loves behaving like a 5 yo having a tantrum* NEH! I-I I am NOT...

Nina: Do you want us to abandon you here?

Pub owner: *from afar* If you don't put your uncle out, Coffee girl, I swear...

Nina: *points a very menacing finger* Don't you dare "I swear" me! I "I swear" people, not the other way around, especially not when I have to deal with that excuse of a... a... man! *couldn't come up with something better*

Crowley: Imnottha' but...

Maggie: There is no need to fight, we... *looks at Crowley having somewhat of some tears in the corner of his eyes* He's just... heartbroken, you see?

Crowley: *almost inaudible* I'm noot.

Pub owner: Yeah, 'figured. That's no good reason! Whenever he's here, every customer leaves in under ten minutes for some reason and that isn't good for my business!

Nina: Coming from the lad whose only job is to take advantage of other people's misery, that's rich.

Maggie: Nina, you...

Nina: *grabs Crowley by the first ankle she sees* It will mess up your hair but I am ready to make you slide out of here even if that is the last thing I'll ever do.

Crowley: *falls to the floor**doesn't care* I'd like to see tha'

Nina: Fine, you asked for it. *grabs his second ankle**makes him slide for two meters before almost giving up**to Maggie* What are you waiting for? Take him by the armpits if you have to, but help me!

Maggie: *wants to do exactly that**doesn't know what to do with her hands for a second**puts Crowley's glasses and hat on to free them**grabs Crowley by the armpits* Okay, okay, One...

Nina: *holds herself from laughing at Maggie's new improvised look**is not even in the mood to anyway**lifts Crowley up**realizes she's the only one doing so**offended look*

Maggie: I... Sorry. I thought we would lift him up at three and...

Nina: *sighs in I-ve-never-signed-for-this-but-here-I-am* Maggie, Angel, please, you're not helping.

Crowley: *out of nowhere* ANGEL! 'Ngels... arn't vey djust...

Nina: Three.

Crowley: *does not mind being lifted by two struggling humans**mumbles* I 'ate 'is sturpid hair...

Nina: Of course you do. Careful the corner, Mag-

Maggie: *hits her hip* Aouch!

Crowley: *more to himself* AND his stupid fess...

Nina: *to Maggie* Careful, I said! If you really want to hit something, hit him! *looks at Crowley*

Maggie: *passing by the bar**to the Pub owner* Sorry about that, have a good night.

Crowley: *less and less understandable* 'nd 's mooth 'hat says 'turpid sings...

Pub owner: Whatever.

Crowley: 'ike "'omoshun is Ineff-neffably 'wesome wa doon't ya' kom wis meh dishtroy thee uni-universs?"

[The doors of the pub ring their departure]

Nina: We really should *Crowley is heavier than she expected* consider *like, really* create a law to oblige pub owners to have *humpf* bedrooms in the back of their establishment!

Maggie: We're *sore arms but still going strong* lucky he lives *breathless* right across.

Nina: *forces open the Bookshop with her hips that don't lie*

[Yeah, there is no way you can escape the Shakira tune now, is it?]

Nina: *right after Maggie has completely entered* Okay, let's drop him here.

Maggie: The couch is right th-

Nina: *drops Crowley's ankles* He can find the couch himself. As far as I am concerned, the floor suits him just fine.

Crowley: The service her' is terr-terrib-bluh!

Nina: Yeah, well, feel free to contact customer service and leave one star.

Crowley: *raising an invisible glass* Happeh to. *threatens to throw up*

Maggie: *to Crowley* Will you be alright?

Crowley: No-PUHHHH.

Muriel: *runs from God knows where towards the group* Oh my God, how is he?

Nina: Same as yesterday. And the day before that. I think he has an alcohol problem.

Muriel: You can be funny just looking at a bottle? Interesting.

Nina: More like looking at a dozen in three days but, who's counting? Certainly not him.

Crowley: *pointing a finger at the Sky* Ya' owe meh a f***ing 'usical!

Muriel: How can I help him?

Nina: You can't. Not really. He has to get through it by himself, as we all do at some point.

Muriel: I'm... confused. Is he... like... sick, or something?

Crowley: A mu-... A mu... si... *faints*

Maggie: Yeah, I believe you can call it that. It is... some kind of... sickness.

Muriel: Not a human sickness, then? *has forgotten she is, obviously, also a human called Inspector Constable* I-I mean, well-

Nina: Apparently, beings like him can catch those as well. Go figure.

Maggie: Maybe... Maybe put a blanket on him?

Nina: He does not deserve it, but yeah, you can do that.

Muriel: Okay, I'll... Sorry: what... is a blanket?

Nina: *sighs* I'm done for tonight. *leaves**comes back* Maggie?

Maggie: I... I think I'll stay for a while.

Nina: Right. It's not as if you had a shop to run in what? Five hours?

Maggie: You told me yourself nobody ever comes to my shop, so...

Nina: *shrugs her shoulders* Sorry, I'm too tired to apologize. Good night, everyone. *to Crowley* Not you. *slams the Bookshop's doors unintentionally*

[Awkward silence]

Maggie: *to Muriel* So... A blanket. It is... like, a, a cloud... but... rectangle.

#Good Omens #Good Omens Fanfic #Ineffable Husbands #Crowley #Aziraphale #Nina and Maggie #Aziracrow #Wasted Crowley #Sturpid Assangel Aziraphale #Sturpid Assangel #Azirapapap is BLUH #Featuring Crowley's 1941 hat #Nina is so done with this heartbroken Demon already #Shakira Shakira #I'M ON TONIGHT YOU KNOW MY HIPS DON'T LIE #A blanket is like a cloud but rectangle #It's 1:50 am in my country btw #I am not wasted my Muse is just a Sadistic Night Owl

[cpunkwitch]

Describing the feeling - anemia

being descriptive about what its like standing up and generally functioning with my severe anemic body.

i dont just stand up too quickly and lose my balance for a second, i dont just stand up and immediately sit down because the room started spinning.

when i stand up my vision goes hazy around the edges, a black vector around my vision creeps in, my VSS makes my vision look even more like a 1980's video recording, my head gets fuzzy and light, my vision shrinks to a small spot as the rest is blocked out by the dark, my body threatens to black out, drop passed out right where i am. i get nauseous and exhausted like i just saw something that grossed me out so bad it made me sick, i go pale and my face gets hot at the same time.

it only lasts a few minutes maybe, but its still scary and slows me down. i can pass out without even realizing it sometimes, without this kind of warning. i'll feel sick and pass out or i'll be fine and still suddenly wake up in a new position or entirely different room and someone will tell me they moved me.

my energy is constantly drained, leaving me breathless at even the most minimal of movements like a short flight of stars or just getting out of bed. all i can manage leaving the house is a brisk walk without my cane. i feel like i had taken a 5 hour hike when its still only 11am and im just getting over starting my day.

im always too tired to do many tasks, go places, i find myself taking a nap if it werent for coffee.

this would of course happen less if i was able to take my supplements more often, if i could eat enough food containing the needed iron more regularly/consistently. but theres complications with that too.

i get constant pounding headaches for several reasons and on days where my anemia literally makes me bedridden i am often laying there waiting on the medication i was able to take to finally kick in and calm the raging ache burning and rattling inside my head.

anemia is not just standing up and feeling dizzy or falling over, its chronic fatigue placing a hand on your shoulder, shaking you around and putting a white noise filter over your eyes before pushing you down to let you catch your breath. its feeling like a vampire stole half your entire body's amount of blood without even touching you. its being even more tired and slowed down after a nurse takes your blood more than you usually are and more than most people are for a longer amount of time, sitting there for almost 5 minutes or so with an orange juice box in your hand before you can get yourself to stand up and leave her office.

i originally got my cane to help with the dizzy spells and constant unbalance and exhaustion i felt, to help me walk up and down stairs easier and keep me from walking to fast and steady my pace more. then i realized how bad my back was and noticed how lessened my back pain was with it and i was even happier to have gotten my cane.

every day i think about how all my life i've missed out because ive been too tired to do something or go somewhere. every day i fear falling over, collapsing and passing out and it happens too frequently for me to say im okay any day.

i miss the days i used to have energy when i was much younger, i miss the days i didnt have to fear falling over, i miss the times i was able to do more with my body.

doesnt mean i live in constant misery, im just learning to live with it. this is my life, its a constant battle and struggle, but i make do, i push myself as far as my body lets me without letting myself overdo it too much.

knowing this, you can probably imagine how scared i often am about summer. i get uneasy and close to passing out if i just take a shower with the water too hot, the heat of summer does so much worse.

in summer my vision goes white, no matter how much water i drink the world goes brighter and brighter, i nearly passed out on the road once. i get heat stroke fairly often, even wearing light clothing and having a cold cloth on the back of my neck isnt enough at times. in summer im like a dried up plant, dehydrated and overheated, somehow hanging on while looking and feeling like im one step through death's door.

anemia's a dick guys, i never realized how serious it was for me when i first got diagnosed, but i learned. the hard way unfortunately, but i learned about it nonetheless.

[ID: banner reading "This blog is protected by De Rolo family and co." in all caps. It has an orange cloud background. On the left is the De Rolo coat of arms and on the right is the symbol of Vox Machina]

#cass rambles #anemia #anemic #severe anemia #severely anemic #actually disabled #disability blogging #cpunk #physical disability #physically disabled #cripple punk #disabled #cripplepunk blog #cpunk blog #cripplepunk #crip punk #cripple punk blog #cane user #disability #physical illness

[bedlamsbard]

I totally understand your rage quitting now, although it's exactly the opposite for me! I was *very* into the Asgardian storyline in MCU and I hated Ragnarok with a passion - and the fandom sure made certain I knew everybody who didn't like the movie was an Idiot. Then IW and EG happened and killed all my joy for the MCU. I kinda sorta look at it without flinching nowadays, but it took somewhere around 5 years...

I think I know more people who went MCU --> Star Wars than the other way around! Weird couple of years for both fandoms. I'm a little bit of a weird outlier because I got back into Marvel well after Endgame, but a lot of what people criticize about the MCU is what I find interesting (the puzzle piece aspect). I am well aware that if I'd been consistently in Marvel since 2014 (which is when I drifted off) I'd probably have had the same rage reaction as like...everyone else I know.

I guess it's been a minute and my SW history isn't common knowledge to people who weren't around here between 2013-2021, so the lingering fury is probably confusing to people who only know me from the MCU. I was big into Star Wars from 2013-2021, from 2013-2015 on the PT/TCW side, then from 2014-2021 on the Rebels side (there's crossover), though I was also familiar with...everything. I have forgotten more about Star Wars than your average SW fan has ever known. (I was also in and out from 2007-2013, which is when some of my earlier fic like Oxygen and Rust dates from, but this is a period of time when my big fandom was actually Narnia) I'm quote-unquote "known" for Wake the Storm and Queen's Gambit in the PT/TCW, which have very consistently garnered negative responses since Wake started in 2013, and On the Edge of the Devil's Backbone in Rebels; I also used to do liveblogs of TCW and Rebels and the comics, for a while, so some of those posts are still floating around. I had a very, very bad breakup with a close fandom friend in 2016. I bounced off the ST, had an extremely negative reaction to Rebels S4 (to this day I have refused to do a full reaction post because I hated it so much I can't think about it coherently, and there were years where I couldn't think about it without spiraling), was okay with Resistance, R1, and Solo, hated Mando, hated TCW S7, hated the comics, hated the High Republic, and was still grimly hanging onto the fandom in utter misery in 2021 when the combination of hating TBB's sheer mediocrity (and the way they retconned Rebels) and the first episode of Loki hitting all of my favorite tropes like a fucking train finally knocked me out of Star Wars, to the extreme relief of everyone who knew me.

to this day I have fannish friends (who I met through Star Wars!) ready to stage an intervention if I ever seem even vaguely interested in getting back into Star Wars. I am the only person I know who looked at the Marvel fandom post-Endgame (and the Loki subfandom at any point in time, but especially while the show was airing) and went "this seems like a nice soothing place to immigrate to!" and honestly it is, people aren't as crazy anymore as they were around CW and Endgame. (Except in the Loki subfandom, which has made even me go "hmm. that's a bit much," but then I remember the egg genocide and you guys are fine, actually.)

very amusingly I actually speed-ran the Rebels experience with the Loki show -- really liked the first half, really disliked the second half -- but by that point I'd already gotten back into the rest of the MCU. I hadn't had a dramatic MCU breakup at all; I'd kept up with the films from 2008-2014 (CATWS was the last one I saw in order), but I just hadn't gotten around to seeing more than three odd ones out between 2014 and 2021 (Ragnarok, Captain Marvel, Ant-Man and the Wasp, and then I saw WandaVision early in 2021). I fandom osmosed some weird stuff that turned out not to be true.

anyway for those that don't know, that's the short version of my sordid Star Wars history! also sorry, you didn't actually, uh, ask for this.

#re rebels #however badly you think i reacted to it i assure you i reacted considerably worse #every day I know less about what's going on in sw and that's great #though I still know a fair amount because it's not like I cut ties with most people #for example: I refuse to even watch the ahsoka show's trailers but I've seen stills and stuff because I'm still in cosplay groups #and unfortunately even thinking about it makes me black out in rage which is not healthy #I do still go on the occasional star wars rant but I try to keep it down to once every couple of weeks #did one a couple of days ago #my entire fannish experience these days is geared towards not replicating my sw experience so I'm VERY cautious with marvel #I need to go back to my star wars destash #situation's still bad #I've got serious money collectibles that thinking about dealing with is exhausting #darth canthre #bedlam replies

[sautiyahoja25]

Just stole this from another page. Absolute wisdom... 1. Have a firm handshake.

2. Look people in the eye.

3. Sing in the shower.

4. Own a great stereo system.

5. If in a fight, hit first and hit hard.

6. Keep secrets.

7. Never give up on anybody. Miracles happen everyday.

8. Always accept an outstretched hand.

9. Be brave. Even if you’re not, pretend to be. No one can tell the difference.

10. Whistle.

11. Avoid sarcastic remarks.

12. Choose your life’s mate carefully. From this one decision will come 90 per cent of all your happiness or misery.

13. Make it a habit to do nice things for people who will never find out.

14. Lend only those books you never care to see again.

15. Never deprive someone of hope; it might be all that they have.

16. When playing games with children, let them win.

17. Give people a second chance, but not a third.

18. Be romantic.

19. Become the most positive and enthusiastic person you know.

20. Loosen up. Relax. Except for rare life-and-death matters, nothing is as important as it first seems.

21. Don’t allow the phone to interrupt important moments. It’s there for our convenience, not the caller’s.

22. Be a good loser.

23. Be a good winner.

24. Think twice before burdening a friend with a secret.

25. When someone hugs you, let them be the first to let go.

26. Be modest. A lot was accomplished before you were born.

27. Keep it simple.

28. Beware of the person who has nothing to lose.

29. Don’t burn bridges. You’ll be surprised how many times you have to cross the same river.

30. Live your life so that your epitaph could read, No Regrets

31. Be bold and courageous. When you look back on life, you’ll regret the things you didn’t do more than the ones you did.

32. Never waste an opportunity to tell someone you love them.

33. Remember no one makes it alone. Have a grateful heart and be quick to acknowledge those who helped you.

34. Take charge of your attitude. Don’t let someone else choose it for you.

35. Visit friends and relatives when they are in hospital; you need only stay a few minutes.

36. Begin each day with some of your favourite music.

37. Once in a while, take the scenic route.

38. Send a lot of Valentine cards. Sign them, ‘Someone who thinks you’re terrific.’

39. Answer the phone with enthusiasm and energy in your voice.

40. Keep a note pad and pencil on your bed-side table. Million-dollar ideas sometimes strike at 3 a.m.

41. Show respect for everyone who works for a living, regardless of how trivial their job.

42. Send your loved ones flowers. Think of a reason later.

43. Make someone’s day by paying the toll for the person in the car behind you.

44. Become someone’s hero.

45. Marry only for love.

46. Count your blessings.

47. Compliment the meal when you’re a guest in someone’s home.

48. Wave at the children on a school bus.

49. Remember that 80 per cent of the success in any job is based on your ability to deal with people.

50. Don’t expect life to be fair

[thatiranianphantom]

the awful ratings on rvd can be attributed to various things. first, removing everything that was familiar for the general public (aka the couples) and second, the writing that seems to be dragged out because they don’t know what to do anymore. don’t get me wrong, rvd has never been a good show but at least you could appreciate the craziness on S1-S4 plus the couples, they had a good balance between craziness, mysteries and romance. despite the writing being super inconsistent i still feel every season it reached a conclusion, if you know what i mean. the villain lasted one season, the plot quiet of closed and next season opened with a new thing and it was still pretty weird. the show at least committed to being weird.

S5 was dark and lifeless and it reached not conclusion, it didn’t move those characters forward and all the arc conclusion for the characters it might have reached were erased by the finale. it was not new or "fresh" it was lazy because the time skip was used to wash their hands on bad writing, it was boring and quiet frankly, it didn’t feel like the characters.

i'm trying to think about what exactly did rvd do for the characters last season and i'm empty handed. BA had one of the most sincere conversations they probably ever had about why they don’t work together and that archie will always love verconica but by the finale it didn’t matter. we lost screen time on them. veronicas plot did not move at all last season. betty’s plot did not move at all. we are still stuck on TBK. jughead's plot was unnecessary, the aliens/mountain men plot was useless and did archie do anything important? i can’t even remember. it was a waste of a season.

now you have the supernatural and universes because it seems roberto and the writers missed sabrina but they ruined that show too so they want to make rvd supernatural. it feel like it was the writers project rather than something to do for the audience you still have left. season 5 ended up making everyone run away and now no one understands what happening anymore. you can tell the season 5 finale was changed last minute by how inconsistent it was because the network gave roberto the okay for the "5 episodes event" when it was time to film it, but you guessed the whole of s6 it’s just the event that was supposed to be only 5 episodes because they don’t know what to do anymore. they are dragging the plot for the special event + superpowers. i know secretly the network is crying because they shouldn’t have approved that event and let roberto just film the finale he wrote originally which obviously was VA/BH/CH. like, the fact that the perfect for you duet was teased to be a BH duet ever since s5 started filming but it was changed in the worst way possible last minute and even roberto admitted he had to convince Cole because he was given more signing parts than he originally agreed with like – the couples that exist right now were supposed to be temporal (for the event) but we are now stuck with them because the writers don’t know what do do anymore.

You said it, anon. S5 was the killshot for this show. It was a boring slog of misery porn for absolutely zero payoff. In fact, people dragged themselves through s5 only to be slapped in the face at the end.

So people left in droves, and as much as they are desperately begging for viewers back, they're gone for good. The best they can hope for is to limp to the finish with a pathetic number of viewers, and I feel no sympathy. They made their beds.

Also, good point that they desperately need a new plot. They've been recycling the same plot for 2 seasons now, and let's be real here, NOBODY cares about saving Riverdale. They may have once cared about TBK, but they dragged it out too long and now people's interest has faded. And now we're getting Vale 2.0, with entire episodes dumping more and more plot on it, and you just know this show won't make the climax of this plot satisfactory. I am more than bored, and that was the one thing RD never was before. Say what you want about it, but it was never boring.

#answered #rd negativity

[thequeenofmyownscreen]

I took time to watch the first season of “Narrative Telephone”

What a good idea. What a simple yet good idea. What a wonderful execution. Do we deserve Creative Director Marisha Ray ? I'm pretty sure we don't ; and yet, she has graced the world with amazing things like Narrative Telephone.

Under the cut is a summary of each episode. But really all you need to know is that every second in pure serotonin injected in your veins.

Episode 1, aka "The Wolf Had A Beak" : Ashley is SO BAD at this game. Like, so, SO BAD. But it does not matter, because at the same time she is EXCELLENT at making me laugh. Every time it was her turn in each episode, I was laughing for 5 minutes straight. Sam is chaos, but we knew that already, also he was drinking Martini so that explains it. Travis is just facts straight, and efficiency. I was wondering if maybe initially, they just wanted to see together the original story and the final story, in the "Show & Tell" segment. But if so, the allure of rewatching every recounting was too good, and I'm glad they extended the format.

Episode 2, aka "Way Too Many Details About Directions And SINGING ??" : Liam's Jester's accent was pretty good at the beginning but derailed greatly. The story went longer and longer, and I think at the end it was 4 times longer than the way Laura told it. Marisha was trying to make sense of the story live, but only managed to confuse it MORE. Ashley just abandoned the accent. I love how Laura just accused Sam to "add shit up", and he took this indignant look, like she was NOT saying the truth. Liam : "She's doing War and Peace in two minutes !!". Sam the a capella lover realizing live HE FORGOT THE SONG. Matt was fighting with himself with the geography of Wildemount. Marisha didn't know what "shtuping" meant because surprisingly there's not a lot of Yiddish in Kentucky.

Episode 3, aka "Sam Gets Revenge For The Song He Forgot Last Episode" : Travis started translating the story with a 21th century narration, and Ashley finished the job. Liam was thinking about Paula Abdul (which, fair). Laura added a threesome, which is... in character for her. Marisha added a whole 'nother song. The cast takes 2 minutes to roast Sam on his lockdown look ("is this your mugshot ?", "were you in Requiem for a Dream ?"). Ashley : "You play guitar ???" Sam, who did 2 false starts : "Clearly, No." Everyone does NOT know what a pince-nez is (except Sam). True love is a threesome that lasts for years.

Episode 4, aka "nom nom nom" : Marisha did her famous not-at-all-German accent. "Oh God, I'm Ashley-ing this so hard !" (I love a good Community reference). No joke though, the original story was pretty good, it resembled the true version of the European fairy tales we grew up with (you know the versions with death and pain and misery). Travis was so taken by how cute his wife looked that he forgot part of the story. Matt was very critical of how the 3 children just waited for their fate. Laura's excited that her hair is long enough that she can do the Ring girl, and demonstrates live, while her husband hides his face. Later, Sam's wife does amazing puppetry of the Ring girl behind him just to get Travis, and it works so well ! Matt just knows Liam well enough that he brought back some spooky elements the other forgot. We learn that Marisha learned German in high-school from a teacher that was Spanish... That explains SO MUCH about her accent.

Episode 5, aka "Ashley Incites The Cast To Turn on Each Other" : Marisha wore a nice orange top with little green monsters on it and I want it. When it's Ashley telling the initial story, it goes pretty well !... no, never mind, Laura added way too much at the end. I love that at first it was just a thing Ashley put at the end of her story, and then it got to "Matt said that Travis forgot something", and "There was a miscommunication about food between Matt and Marisha", and "It was obviously Sam's fault since he's an agent of chaos". Sam apparently thinks that Pike is a Valley girl doing a Periscope. It's A JOY to see everyone in the cast just fall back in love with Ashley Johnson as Pike for 2 minutes. Ashley : "We're just getting better !" The rest of the cast : *doubt*. Sam, looking at how LONG Laura's video is "Is there an intermission in this ??" then everyone takes a turn roasting every aspect of Sam's video. Marisha and apparently everyone, when they see Ashley looking cute as a button as Pike : "This is what I want to see when I die."

Episode 6, aka "BOUNDARIES" : Matt, who was after Taliesin, closed his eyes just like he did, and just told the rest of the story like that : MIND PALACE. Love that Marisha wore her rainbow suspenders for the Show & Tell, bringing back Beau's spirit. Sam summarizing Narrative Telephone : "Listen, this show is about blame." I love how everyone compliments Ashley on how beautiful she looks, and as soon as she starts talking as her version of Beau, everyone's like "oh no, this is Pool Hall Ashley". Everyone was just liberating their inner frat boys for this one.

Episode 7, aka "Everybody Hates Taliesin" : when panicking, Laura elongates time, except when she just bails and accelerates. I feel like this story was the hardest, and Laura and Liam's nervous energies made it worse. But Sam and Travis did an impressive job of reeling it back in. And then Marisha and Ashley re-made it worse. And then Matt reeled it back in but at this point it was too late. The point of this story ? "It's about higher consciousness and apparently fucking ditching your siblings in the middle of the forest". During the Show & Tell, I love Matt just doing the wild Kermit flailing his arms up in the background. At one point Sam's daughter comes in his room and says goodnight to the dog that is on Sam's lap and it's SO CUTE. Sam, commenting on Marisha's looks : "You're fucking... Stunner ! How do you do that ???" Marisha, uncomfortable with compliments : "... Stop it." Travis, immediately supportive : "You look like shit." Marisha, earnest : "Thank you !"

Episode 8, aka "The Cameo Of Macaroni Samsonite My Beloved" : I feel like Marisha following Travis was the best choice ever, because of the BrJeaus. I appreciate seeing in Taliesin's background the puppet of Bast'Alar, aka The Ascended One, aka Mittens McFluffyfloof. ASHLEY ?? GROG STONEJAW ??? Laura just bailing out of the end is so good for the season finale. Travis just messing with the rest of the cast who expects an elaborate story with complicated words, but no !! He improvised everything live, and just did a silly voice. The others : "There was a story ?? There was a concept ?????" Poor Marisha, she has a naturally low voice (which I'm NOT complaining about) and she can't do the Macaroni Samsonite voice. Sam had a bugger up his nose and it was all everyone could see, including him. Taliesin accidentally recorded himself in slow-mo and they put it after the end credits. I think this one was the hardest I laughed.

#my thoughts #critical role #narrative telephone

[dakotaxatwood]

LILI REINHART, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER✦ DAKOTA ATWOOD the TWENTY-SEVEN year old has been in Hidehill for her WHOLE LIFE and was a FORMER STUDENT to Miyeon Kang, the murder victim. Whispers on the streets are that the PARAMEDIC who lives in HARTLEY AVENUE are said to be LOYAL and HEADSTRONG but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves.

Full Name: Dakota Bethany Atwood

Age: 27

Date Of Birth: 5 January 1996

Zodiac: Capricorn

Parents: Remington Atwood Sr & Annalise Atwood

Siblings: Remy Atwood @remykatwood

Orientation: Heterosexual

Occupation: Paramedic

Languages: English & Italian

Positive: Loyal, determined, generous, empathetic, resourceful

Negative: Headstrong, stubborn, honest, afraid of failure, independent 

CONNECTIONS | PINTEREST

A BRIEF HISTORY

Dakota was born at Hide General, into a wealthy family helmed by her father, Remington Atwood. In what Remington would later describe as being in ‘true Dakota fashion’, she beat her twin out of the womb by 3 minutes and 7 seconds; something that she would have no trouble with holding over her sibling’s head in order to assert some well-placed dominance. 

Dakota was a go-getter from an early age, brimming with ambition and opportunity, thanks to her familial wealth. Both her and her twin had the chance to try almost everything; dance, sports, arts and everything in-between all at their fingertips. Dakota enjoyed anything competitive and found little thrills in winning.

To outsiders, the Atwoods appeared to be the perfect family, but behind closed doors was a different story. Dakota’s parents were married in title only; they treated each other as acquaintances. They did their best to co-parent the twins to allow them to grow up in a functional household, but the frostiness between them was evident to Dakota from an early age.

As she got older, Dakota began to resent her parents. She couldn't understand the decision to stay together in misery just for the sake of what she perceived to be protecting their image. The twins were old enough to realise they weren’t happy, and every family dinner and holiday celebration felt like a ridiculous act to her. She longed for independence and freedom from the clutches of her fraudulent life. 

After she graduated from school, Dakota took a year off to travel and more importantly, put distance between her and her family. Her first stop was Italy, where she met Luca - her first real love - so real that she cancelled the rest of her European gap year to stay with him. He taught her Italian, how to cook pasta from scratch, and how to loosen up a little. However there was always a subtle gloom hanging over the both of them, knowing that they were living on borrowed time. When it came time for Dakota to return to America she begged Luca to come with her, but he had deep familial bonds that he wasn’t willing to fracture for her. She saw the irony in it; he refused to leave his family and she was desperately running away from hers.

Dakota entertained the idea of moving as far away as possible to go to college, but ultimately returned to Nashville on the promise from her father that her studies would be paid for. She had reluctantly agreed, but on the condition that she would not be returning to the family home, opting instead to move to Hartley Avenue.

NOW

Dakota works at the very same hospital she was born in as a Paramedic and can often be found post night-shift hunched over an almond latte at Verdure Cafe. Lately she has felt like she could be striving for more, and is considering going back to medical school to become a doctor.

TW: DEATH While her job is never easy and always unpredictable, the recent occurrences in Hidehill have Dakota on a knife’s edge. Every call out she receives has her wondering more than ever if she will be finding the body of someone she cares about, and she can’t shake the anxiety no matter how hard she attempts to. 

#hidehillintro #this needs an update :) #( — backstory. )

[time-is-standing]

top 10 songs of january

aka the roughest one so far lol

1. September Sparky Deathcap by Reno

this is the number one song by far for this month. I know Reno is not the original artist but the uploaded version was the saviour of my life. it's taken down again but I loved every single second I spent with this song. so beautiful, such a passionate piece of art. if you want to listen, it's up again but for real this time! it's September by Sparky Deathcap.

2. Burn by David Kushner

this song is a banger. I've listened to it before but the lyrics are so fitting now. one of my old friends reached out to me about his breakup and the situation he ended up in. I immediately recommended this to him, we bonded over it but it's such a crazy story.

3. Come out to La by DON BROCO

I'm attending a Sleeping with Sirens concert soon and this band is playing with them. I was curious as to what the other band must be like. I immediately fell in love with this song and am listening to it on repeat getting more & more excited with every day passing by.

4. golden hour by JVKE

this is such a masterpiece. I found it on tiktok a thousand years ago and was waiting for it to be released. I wasn't disappointed by the whole song as it has this weird, magical vibe all throughout the song.

5. Your Sister Was Right by Wilbur Soot

I had some pretty rough days this january. I needed support and this boy - as always - provided me with comfort and what feel like unlimited love through his songs. I am deeply in love with the passion Will has for making music and adore him, & the way that his albums are always coming back to me when I feel a bit sad/fed up.

6. It's Over When It's Over by Falling In Reverse

I was at my bf's house for new years eve and spent a whole week together at the beginning of january. he has a very interesting music taste. a massive chunk of our fav songs are the same and he's reminding me of songs I've already forgotten from time to time. it's so lovely and special to share these minutes, our memories and love.

7. listen when i'm gone by Jack Powell

rough days. let me tell you they were quite powerful in the moody, cloudy mornings and late nights I have because of work. I hold onto this song whenever I feel hope slipping away from me and it always helps me. also, I made some huge decisions, so I'm pretty hopeful about the future but I'm also a bit frightened as well. we'll see, but let's hope for the best.

8. Misery Business by Paramore

"all I wanted was you" was the line that never got out of my head after our new years' party. we were listening to music from our teenager years and childhood and nostalgia hit real hard. I love the vibes this one has!

9. too much by Softheart, guccihighwaters

it happened to be a rough night for sure, I started listening to this to help me fall asleep and it stuck with me for the next couple of years. I hate january, but it's getting better with every day.

10. WASTE by Kxllswxtch

I wasn't listening to this as much as the others but it made it to the list. a catchy, vibey sad song, that made me fall in love for the first time I've listened. I think I found it on tiktok, it's so good!

#music #songs #spotify #2023 #my top 10 songs #top 10 songs #top 10 songs of the month #january #january 2023 #september sparky deathcap #burn david kushner #come out to LA DON BROCCO #golden hour JVKE #your sister was right wilbur soot #it's over when it's over falling in reverse #listen when I'm gone jack powell #misery business paramore #too much softheart #guccihighwaters #waste Kxllswxtch

[omegarising]

So the singer of Maroon 5 cheated on his wife and somehow i get to hear "all men are the the same". Which makes no sense. But that's how it is. I just laughed it off. If someone else wants to roast in misery of their mind, i am not going to be a party to that.

°°°

The water pump burned out yesterday after daily use of three years. Which is decent from a machine like that. I could have gotten it repaired but i thought fuck it, a repaired electronic item will always fuck up again. And then it's a cycle of future repairs. Got the whole thing replaced. It was a ten minute job, but it took one and a half hour cuz the plumber went off to get the new motor from God knows which godown. But it's done. Will finally have proper water in the house.

^^^^^

I woke up in the middle of the night from a dream so realistic and so horrid that i was on the verge of screaming my head off just as i opened my eyes. I think it's another cycle of nightmare dreams for me. Grit teeth and bear it mode for these. No other option.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Neil Gaiman's Sandman isn't getting a second season and Gaiman blamed it on fans that didn't binge the whole show. This is what happens when you woke-wash beloved characters just to appeal to a crowd that just would not watch a show like Sandman. They just want colored characters in every show whether it makes sense or not. The whole noise about a black Ariel was amazing too. What does it matter.

[hitheredreamer]

A year later

1. Have a firm handshake. - doing it 2. Look people in the eye. - doing it 3. Sing in the shower. - failed 4. Own a great stereo system. - done 5. If in a fight, hit first and hit hard. - not doing it 6. Keep secrets. - doing it 7. Never give up on anybody. Miracles happen everyday. - trying to do 8. Always accept an outstretched hand. - trying to, but people fail me in their help, I'm better off doing it myself 9. Be brave. Even if you’re not, pretend to be. No one can tell the difference. - doing it 10. Whistle. - sometimes 11. Avoid sarcastic remarks. - doing it 12. Choose your life’s mate carefully. From this one decision will come 90% of all your happiness and misery. - have not done it 13. Make it a habit to do nice things for people who will never find out. - did it once, only one opportunity so far 14. Lend only those books you never care to see again. - not doing it 15. Never deprive someone of hope; it might be all they have. - doing it 16. When playing games with children, let them win. - doing it 17. Give people a second chance, but not a third. - no one came back for a second chance 18. Be romantic. - haven't found someone to be romantic with 19. Become the most positive and enthusiastic person you know. - failed 20. Loosen up. Relax. Except for rare life-and-death matters, nothing is as important as it first seems. - trying to 21. Don’t allow the phone to interrupt important moments. It’s there for our convenience, not the caller’s. - doing it 22. Be a good loser. - doing it 23. Be a good winner. - I think I am doing it 24. Think twice before burdening a friend with a secret. - doing it, I carry too many secrets 25. When someone hugs you, let them be the first to let go. - not doing it 26. Be modest. A lot was accomplished before you were born. - trying to 27. Keep it simple. - trying to 28. Beware of the person who has nothing to lose. - trying to 29. Don’t burn bridges. You’ll be surprised how many times you have to cross the same river. - trying to 30. Live your life so that your epitaph could read: No regrets. - doing it 31. Be bold and courageous. When you look back on life, you’ll regret the things you didn’t do more than the ones you did. - doing it and the amount of fails... but no regrets! 32. Never waste an opportunity to tell someone you love them. - not doing it 33. Remember no one makes it alone. Have a grateful heart and be quick to acknowledge those who helped you. - doing it 34. Take charge of your attitude. Don’t let someone else choose it for you. - doing it, but it is hard 35. Visit friends and relatives when they are in the hospital; you only need to stay a few minutes. - doing it 36. Begin each day with some of your favourite music. - doing it 37. Once in a while, take the scenic route. - doing it 38. Send a lot of Valentine cards. Sign them, ‘Someone who thinks you’re terrific.’ - not doing it, forgot about that one. 39. Answer the phone with enthusiasm and energy in your voice. - I think I am doing it. 40. Keep a notepad and pencil on your bedside table. Million-dollar ideas sometimes strike at 3 a.m. - not doing it. 41. Show respect for everyone who works for a living, regardless of how trivial their job. - doing it 42. Send you loved ones flowers. Think of a reason later. - not doing it 43. Make someone’s day by paying the toll for the person in the car behind you. - never had chance 44. Become someone’s hero. - trying to 45. Marry only for love. - well see 12. 46. Count your blessings. - trying to 47. Compliment the meal when you’re a guest in someone’s home. - not doing it 48. Wave at the children on a school bus. - not doing it 49. Remember that 80% of the success in any job is based on your ability to deal with people. - and it is hard. 50. Don’t expect life to be fair. - I hate that one