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platypanthewriter · 3 years

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Yuletide Fic 5/5

Part One/Two/Three/Four/Five Read them as I post here, or all at once in Ao3 under peterqpan

What hadn’t occurred to Billy while planning for Santa was how long he and Steve would have to lie silently, waiting for the whispers around them to subside. The kids kept eating the Santa cookies, and then getting up to get more, and Will had the giggles about something. He kept wriggling out of the sleeping bags to put on more Christmas carols.

El kept sitting up at the slightest noise, staring suspiciously out the window, and Max wasn’t helping, all “What was that? Did you hear something?”

Jonathan’s shoulders shook suspiciously over on the couch, but at least he was quiet.

Steve didn’t let Billy throw anything at Max and El, and when Billy started to suggest knocking Dustin and Will out with blunt force trauma instead, Steve cupped his face with both hands, smiling at him in the light of the tree. They were scooted down far enough in the zipped-together sleeping bags that the edge shielded them from sight, their knees touching, and Billy let his eyes close as he leaned into Steve’s warm hands.

“Love you,” Billy whispered, almost inaudibly. “See, it’s romantic now.”

“It’s always romantic,” Steve whispered back, which Billy should have expected, honestly, from the man he’d had to flee earlier because he was professing his love loudly in the grocery store over Billy’s choice in mustard.

“Loser,” Billy sighed, squirming closer, and biting back a laugh at the feeling of Steve kissing his forehead, and his ears, and across his cheeks to his eyelids, and down his nose. Billy reached out and grabbed his boyfriend by the back of the neck, pulling him into a real kiss, but soft, so the kids couldn’t hear. “Merry goddamn Christmas,” he whispered, under the annoying, tinny tones of Marie and Donnie Osmond, apparently taped from the TV special. Steve snorted a laugh against his lips, and Billy could feel him grinning.

“Thanks,” Steve whispered, and Billy stroked his thumb over the base of Steve’s skull, and the shell of his ear, feeling the muscles move as he smiled.

“All I did was get out of your way,” Billy whispered. “But I get you tomorrow night, Harrington.”

“No, you—you did all this,” Steve whispered back. “I wouldn’t’ve thought of inviting the Byers. Or the tree. You invited Dustin.”

“Dustin invited himself,” Billy pointed out, and Steve nodded, squirming closer.

“You said it was okay,” he whispered. “I’d be...this’d be every other Christmas,” he laughed, a little catch in his voice, and pressed in for another kiss, murmuring against Billy’s lips, “Except for you. Love you. Babe. Billy Hargrove.”

“...I haven’t even killed you a reindeer yet,” Billy told him, his face so hot he could feel the blood pounding in his ears. “Jesus.”

“I love you anyway,” Steve whispered, kissing his face again. “I’m generous that way. Y’know. Even to losers who can’t even bring me a reindeer.”

Thank god, Billy thought, turning his head to kiss deeper, tasting frosting, and feeling Steve tremble against him, panting for breath. Thank god he shut up about loving me. Thank god he loves a loser who doesn’t bring him reindeer. He slid his hand up inside Steve’s shirt, under his sweater, and felt his breath hitch. Steve slid a socked foot over, hooking Billy’s leg by the ankle to sandwich their knees together, so their bodies were close enough to feel warm.

“Let’s sing carols,” Dustin said loudly, and Steve scrambled away, sat up in the zipped-together sleeping bags, and beaned him with a pillow he yanked off the couch, which had the fortunate side effect of dumping Jonathan Byers' ass on the floor. He yelled.

Billy should have expected the thankfully brief pillow fight, in which Will got the giggles so bad he fell over, Dustin took a three-pointer in the face from Max, and Jonathan Byers threw pillows at Steve, missing every time.

El smacked everyone indiscriminately, and Steve tried to be some kind of stealth ninja slithering around on sleeping bags while Billy called out plays like a sports announcer, but after they all flopped horizontal again, panting, the kid’s giggles finally petered off, and then there was silence.

It was time.

“How come I didn’t get a home run,” Steve whispered as they retrieved El’s bike from where Hopper’d slid it under the table, as Jonathan tiptoed off for the stockings.

“Didn’t hit the ceiling beam,” Billy whispered back, making it up as he went along. “Gotta hit the ceiling beam before it drops on somebody.”

“I should have got a penalty shot when they all ganged up on me,” Steve huffed, sitting out Dustin’s Commodore 64 games, and Will’s new markers. There was a photography book for Jonathan, and Billy waited until Steve wandered off to stick the two albums he’d bought him kinda behind it— Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, and The Police: Synchronicity. Steve used one of his dad’s ski boots to make an ash print by the stove, before helping Jonathan prop stockings up not-too-near the fireplace, so the chocolate inside wouldn’t melt by morning.

Max had new walkie-talkies too, and Billy sat them out with mixed feelings, wondering who the second one would go to—her mom?! He hailed Steve over to have him write a note, too—Dear Max, it said, I have given your step-brother Billy a little Christmas spirit, so he’ll drive you to get a skateboard repair kit.

“Why am I writing it,” Steve hissed.

“She knows my handwriting, dingus,” said Billy, knowing she didn’t believe in Santa, but also buying in, a little, to the illusion.

Steve looked at him for a long second, and then yanked him in for a kiss.

They’d barely climbed back in their sleeping bags when Billy heard bells, and thought really, Hopper? Fuck you. Really?!

El sprang up, stumbling sleepily over Dustin and Will to the window, and from their grunts and muttered expletives, possibly doing internal damage. “Bells,” El mumbled, squinting outside just as they all jumped at the loud thud, and scraping noise, and El turned to stare at Max and yell “It’s his sleigh! It’s his sleigh!” before peeling off to run out the back door to stare up at the sky as Max fixed a sleepy, but extremely suspicious, glower on Billy.

“The fuck was that,” she hissed, and Steve said “Santa!”

“Go away, Santa, too early,” Dustin mumbled, and Billy’s liking for the kid grew three sizes that moment.

“It’s not even two in the morning,” Steve whispered, laughing, and pointing to the digital clock on the VCR, but Mrs. Henderson, Joyce, and Susan all stumbled downstairs, shivering and blinking sleepily, followed by Hopper.

He hummed as he put the kettle on, rubbing his hands together as his kid froze outside like The Little Match Girl, looking for Santa in her pajamas, and Billy finally went to the door with Dustin and yelled “El! Get in here, you’ll freeze!”

She yelled something back, but it got lost in the arctic wind, until she ran back, shivering, and held out a half-eaten carrot like she’d found the Holy Grail. “They dropped this!” she whispered, and Billy dropped a blanket on her head, and walked away to stand by the fire as Dustin pulled her inside, and Will saw his Santa-given markers and yelled.

Steve came up and threw his arms around Billy, either out of joy, or the realization he needed to stop his boyfriend from murdering the sheriff.

The kids all milled around the tree, Dustin’s fingers actually twitching towards the games, but they all noticed the time, and stared warily at their parents—except El, who was wrapped up in a blanket in the arms of the main offender, her snowflake-patterned socks sticking out as she yelled something muffled about Santa.

“Guess we’re opening presents now!” said Joyce Byers, grinning as she watched Jonathan catch sight of the photography book, and Will sitting, cross legged in front of his markers, his eyes wide and fixed on their target. El found her bike and yelled, snatching the note, and Max frowned at the handwriting over her shoulder, then fixed a startled frown on Billy, who shrugged. Max's eyes narrowed as El ran to show Hopper the note, and Billy looked away, watching Dustin rub his face briskly and trundle over to sit under the tree.

Dustin passed his mom a package, grinning up at her, and she crouched to hug his head.

“You’re all insane,” Billy whispered, warming to the idea of Christmas, a bit, as El passed him more hot chocolate, even though Jonathan immediately ruined everything by putting the Rudolph Christmas special on the VCR.

“Euuuugh,” Billy groaned, leaning his head against Steve’s.

In the ensuing melee, Billy ducked around flung Star Wars toys, Legos, what looked like a camping tent, a Ghostbusters baseball cap, and a rainbow of hats and scarves from Mrs. Henderson, who’d apparently made some for everyone there.

“How’d you have time,” Joyce breathed, running her fingers over a pattern in brown and green, and Claudia Henderson shrugged.

“Dustin’s cousins never send thank you cards anyway,” she said, grinning and handing packages to Billy, Steve, and Hopper.

Billy squeezed his, blinking at her, and she patted his shoulder. If Claudia Henderson could brave the wrapping-paper explosion, so could he, he figured, so he edged around to grab Steve’s stocking, and handed it over. “I’m giving this to you on one knee,” he whispered, and Steve blinked at him, then stared down at the stocking.

Instead of pulling out orange after orange, as Billy’d anticipated, Steve dumped it over his lap in a shower of fruit and walnuts, and burst out laughing at the ring-pop Billy’d stuck in the bottom. He yanked the wrapper open and put it on his finger, admiring the huge cherry candy gem, and leaned to whisper “I do.”

Billy flushed and scrambled away to find his actual presents for his boyfriend, rather than watch Steve stare into his eyes, swirling his tongue around his ring-pop, his mouth already red from the food coloring. Billy scrambled half under the tree and yanked out the first aid kit, and the cold-weather kit with handwarmers and foil blankets, and passed them up to Steve, who looked startled unwrapping them, then fond.

“I’ll be ready for anything,” he said, and Billy snorted.

“Can you be ready for anything in Hawkins?” Billy shot back, and Steve beamed at him.

Billy’s Santa presents for Steve, the albums, had been snatched up by Will and Jonathan, he realized after crawling around. They surrendered them after arranging some copies in trade, and Billy handed them over to their proper recipient while Steve stared at the pile of presents growing around him, and agreed to give one of his new walkie-talkies to Dustin.

Which made sense, Billy thought, it wasn't like Billy even knew how to use the damn thing. He didn't even know if he lived close enough to Steve for the damn thing to work, and it was probably more important to Steve that the kids could find him when they found monsters.

Steve was wearing one of his new mittens on the hand without the ring-pop, and the matching burgundy scarf, and Billy sat and watched him as he opened the note from Joyce, inviting him for New Years, and grinned at her.

Billy forgot he was in the middle of the whole Christmas mess until Max punched him in the shoulder, and shoved the note Steve had written in front of his face. “This true?” she asked, scowling. “You’re gonna take me to buy a skate kit.”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging, and she stared.

“Santa is real,” she muttered, crawling back over to where El was trying on her new bike helmet.

Steve pushed his haul aside, pausing to blink at a wrapped package from Susan, and waved Billy over as he slowly ripped it open. Two packaged Hot Wheels cars spilled out into his lap—a BMW and a Camaro, and Steve looked delighted. "They're our cars," he whispered, grinning at Billy, his eyes sparkling in the lights from the tree as he ripped the cardboard off the backs, and touched their front bumpers gently together.

Billy shoved them down, hissing, "Don't make our cars kiss."

"But they're in love," Steve whispered back, bumping them together again, and Billy leaned his face in his hand and groaned.

He glanced over at Susan, sitting next to Max and El as El told his stepmom about things you could put in bike wheels to make noise. He couldn't picture Susan Hargrove going through the toy aisle, finding their cars, and he wondered for a wild moment if Max had, but that was even harder to picture. Steve kissed the cars bumpers together again, making a smoochy noise, and Billy elbowed him. He couldn't figure out what the cars had even been for—she wouldn't have given them to him—so the remaining option was Susan had shopped for Steve, intending the whole time to give him little toy cars in a mismatched pair.

Steve put both cars in his hand, their undercarriages pressed together, and rolled their tires together with a sly grin, and Billy smacked his hand again, reddening. “Okay, so,” Steve said finally, “—I didn’t know you’d want to come.”

“It’s fine,” Billy laughed, but Steve shook him gently by the shoulders.

“No, it’s not, but I gotta find you something better than what Bradley's Big Buy had, okay. All I got you was this—” he pushed a squishy package into Billy’s hands, and Billy ripped it open to find a soft sweater, clingier than the horse blanket Steve had pulled over his head earlier. “It’s the color of your—no, it’s not,” Steve said, squinting into his face, and Billy started snickering as Steve grabbed him by both arms and pushed him closer to the tree, then pulled him back, then walked him through the all the sprawled kids and around the other side. “There,” Steve said proudly. “It’s the color of your eyes.”

“I can’t see them,” Billy reminded him, grinning, and Steve stared at his mouth, licking his own lips, then groaned quietly in the back of his throat and stalked back to the couch, sucking on the ring-pop.

“Billy,” said Susan, holding out two rectangular department-store boxes with fancy bows, and Billy bit his lips together and sat down right where he was, lifting the lid on the top one. It was a button-down like he liked, the same brand he was wearing, in a deep oceany blue, and he bit his lips together, frowning into the box.

“Neil was busy, so I told him he didn't need to...supervise the shopping,” she said. “It should be the right size.”

Billy nodded, putting the lid back on, and opened the other, bigger box to see a wool coat, thick but tailored. He narrowed his eyes and put it on, and Steve whistled like a goddamn train. Billy ignored him, tugging at it and zipping up the front, and for once, dressed for the outdoors, didn’t feel like he was wearing an entire mattress tied to his chest. “...thanks,” he said, feeling his face heat, and avoiding looking up at her face by testing the size of the pockets.

“Don’t freeze to death,” Susan told him, sighing, and handed him his stocking. He pulled out Mr. T’s Candy Cups, and Nerds, and some oranges, and Starburst, and then felt something thick. He thought this better not be a fucking bag of coal, after she said she didn’t even think it was funny.

It was a pair of socks, warm and soft, and he considered them for a second before placing them in his lap, and reaching in to find a cassette of David Bowie’s Let’s Dance. He was just pulling out some Twix bars when Max dropped next to him, and he pulled his candy back towards him, narrowing his eyes at her.

“I got my own candy, dipshit,” she said, rolling her eyes, and fiddling with her new, shiny walkie-talkies. "The hat's warm."

Billy grimaced. "We'll get you the board repair kit."

"...he told you not to buy it, didn't he," she said heavily, and Billy winced, opening his mouth.

“Everybody done?” Joyce yelled, and Max opened her mouth and closed it again, gripping the walkie-talkie, but Joyce walked by and patted her shoulder, calling out, “Everybody done with presents? Okay! Go the hell to bed.” Max scuttled away to her sleeping bag, and Joyce prodded Hopper in the side, which he ignored. She cupped her hands around her mouth, shouting up at him. “Bedtime!”

“It’s morning,” Dustin said, snickering, but he covered a yawn, and Will walked over to his side of their shared sleeping bags, his arms filled with loot, and collapsed in a smiling pile.

“Fine, fine,” Hopper said, clapping his hands. “Everybody back to bed! G’night!”

Max opened her mouth, frowning at him, then sighed, and lurched tiredly to her feet, stumbling away. Steve came over and sat in her spot, throwing his arm around Billy, and sucking his ring-pop, and they sat and stared at the tree as the kids crawled back into their sleeping bags, Rudolph’s dad was terrible on the TV, and the adults all shuffled back upstairs.

“Love you,” Steve whispered.

“I heard those were invented to stop kids sucking their thumbs,” Billy whispered back, flicking Steve's hand with the ring-pop.

“It’s definitely been handy when I wanted to suck on things,” Steve said agreeably, and Billy choked, coughing, as Steve slurped away at his cherry ring-pop, looking smug.

Billy woke the next day alone in the sleeping bag, and tender where he’d rolled on his belt, and where the seams of his jeans had sanded his legs. He groaned into the soft blue-green sweater he was using as a pillow, and smelled food .

Nancy’d shown up, he found out, when he sat up like a groundhog blinking at the sun. She was on the couch with Jonathan, flipping through a different photo book in black and white. They both blinked at Billy, and then waved silently, and he waved back, looking around for Steve, and hoping Steve’s ex and her new beau didn’t try to include Billy in their conversation.

Steve was running back and forth from the kitchen, carrying plates and wearing an intent grin, and Billy watched him for a few minutes before clambering out of the sleeping bag. The others were rolled up, he noticed, and tried to zip his apart. He caught the ties in the zipper, somehow, and was trying to figure out whether he could just roll them together when Will dropped to sit next to him, eager to leverage his sleeping-bag-taming knowledge for copies of all Billy’s music.

Billy considered, aware of Nancy and Jonathan trying not to watch him repeatedly lose his battle with a squishy inanimate object, and finally agreed. “You figure this shit out and I’ll copy you the new Def Leppard,” he whispered, and Will hugged him, which was just—weird, so he waited until it was over, and walked away, trying to fix his hair by feel.

Lucas and Max showed up that afternoon, Mike was there, Billy registered vaguely, giving all the appropriate compliments to El about her bike, and Billy dozed on Steve’s shoulder in a turkey coma and let the Christmas carols float over him.

Just after he thought they’d left again, the floor pounded as Max stalked up to him and slapped the new walkie-talkie in his hand. “Everybody else has one,” she said, glaring at it, turning on her heel, and stalking off. Billy stared after her, wondering whether she honestly couldn't find someone to give it to. He'd seen Lucas', and it was twice the size.

“Ooo, I have one!” Steve said excitedly. “We can talk when you can’t get to the phone!”

Billy glanced up at him, and back down, imagining being able to call Steve when his door was padlocked from the outside, and bit his lips together. He nodded, and cleared his throat. “I, uh, yeah. I’ll...get some batteries.”

“I’ve got some,” Steve said, squirming away, then dropping beside him again to hand over an eight-pack of Energizers. “Dustin gave me some for mine.”

“...might use this thing a lot,” Billy said warningly, flicking the buttons, and Steve laughed.

“Good, I don’t wanna feel needy.”

Before everyone left, Billy got hugs from Joyce and Mrs. Henderson—he couldn’t think of her as Claudia, not when she was wearing an apron and reminded him so much of Mrs. Claus—a companionable shoulder-squeeze from Hopper, and a tense smile from Susan. El asked whether they could come back next year, explaining how Santa got lost sometimes without woodstoves, and Steve nodded seriously, agreeing to everything she said.

Jonathan shook Billy's hand like an awkward nerd, while Will tried to convince them to hang out and listen to music together, until El started questioning them all about music, and Hopper drug her away. As Jonathan, Will, El, and Hopper stumbled off in a hand-holding chain like Billy's paper-doll garland, Billy felt a tap on the shoulder, and turned to see Joyce Byers again.

"Jonathan and Will showed me the car," she said. "It looks really nice."

"They vacuumed it," Steve said, laughing and waving his hands, and Billy rolled his eyes.

"Steve fixed it so your battery will charge right, and changed your oil," he reported, and Steve laughed, grinning, then went wide-eyed as Joyce hugged them both around the necks, yanking them down even though she stood on her tiptoes.

"Thanks so much, you two," she said, sounding a little choked. "You're such good kids. You're such good kids."

Steve made a weird noise in his throat, and Billy's eyes skipped the stinging and went straight to blurry with tears, so he pulled away, clearing his throat, and made a show of lighting a cigarette.

"A-anytime," Steve said, laughing a little unnaturally. He folded his arms, unfolded them, and bit his lips, and Joyce squeezed his shoulder.

"Thank you," she said earnestly, and he nodded.

Billy threw an arm around him as Joyce walked away. Dustin glanced between Billy and Steve and saluted, laughing and shaking his head, and Nancy waved again from the car window. Steve waved back.

“We look like the parents in a Christmas special,” Billy said, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Steve, and waving at departing cars. "Like a sitcom." Steve snorted a laugh, wiping his eyes.

After they’d all gone, Billy leaned in the doorway between the kitchen and the front room, watching Steve pick up a couple pieces of wrapping paper, and sigh. He sat under the tree, holding a piece of Mrs. Henderson’s ugliest wrapping paper, covered in brown and orange angels that looked like a hollow-eyed Strawberry Shortcake. Steve stretched it flat, and bit his lips together, before crumpling it, his shoulders a little bowed.

“...you don’t think Chriatmas is over, do you?” Billy asked, wandering closer.

“What?” Steve laughed, his eyes lowered. “I mean, it’s still the 25th. I guess. Christmas until midnight.”

“Yeah, that too,” Billy agreed, coming up behind him to reach around with both arms and take the sad crumpled Christmas paper away. He tossed it behind the tree, and Steve snorted a laugh, leaning back into his arms. “But we haven’t even gotten our best present yet,” he whispered, letting his breath tickle Steve’s ear, so he shivered. “This is the part I’ve been waiting for.” Steve opened his mouth, shrugging, and Billy yanked him around so they were nose to nose. “I got the biggest present under the tree,” Billy hissed, “—and I’ve been so patient, don’t you dare tell me Christmas is over now.”

Steve grinned at him, wide and delighted, and Billy squished his face with both hands, making his grin kissable.

Having had plenty of time to plan, Billy grabbed one of the sleeping bags, unrolled it, and tossed it under the tree, towards the fire. Steve pulled him over for a deeper kiss this time, soft and exploratory, as though he didn’t know every hitch of Billy’s breath, and the way he trembled when Steve bit gently at his lower lip, and let it pull through his teeth. “Jesus god of reindeer,” Billy whispered muzzily, and Steve burst out laughing.

“What,” he said. “What?”

“You,” Billy said hoarsely, and cleared his throat, trying to remember his script. “You wanna put on, like, your Christmas songs. Or—or movies. Or something.”

“...you wanna fuck me to Rudolph?” Steve asked, looking a little weirded out, and Billy gritted his teeth, and committed, for the sake of love.

“You want your Christmas shit playing when you get presents, right.”

“...jesus,” Steve whispered, head cocked like Billy was crazy, but beaming all the same. “Uh.” He flushed, biting his lips as he narrowed his eyes at the TV and VCR, and then the tape player. “Uh, just music, maybe.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about Rudolph,” Billy grimaced, imagining the little reindeer’s nasal tones, and the nitwit misfit song. “I mean, if you want to, but I’m gonna...good thing I already know how fucking weird you are—”

“I didn’t come up with—with this Rudolph sex orgy idea,” Steve hissed back, poking him in the chest.

Billy shrugged, rubbing it. “I really don’t know what’s weirder about that than listening to, like, The Carpenters, or John Denver and the Muppets,” he said, waiting while Steve blew the dust off the record player, and frowned between The Jackson 5 Christmas Album and A Partridge Family Christmas Card. “Or those,” Billy said, making a face at little Michael Jackson, and sitting on the sleeping bag, waiting while his dick strained against the inside of his jeans.

“Just don’t think too much about it,” Steve muttered, crouching down to put on A Partridge Family with pink cheeks, and Billy waited until the speakers crackled and Mr. Partridge started singing to grab Steve around the waist.

Billy pulled his boyfriend's butt half into his lap, where he could slide his hands up Steve’s sides, lifting his sweater and shirt, and kissing the skin between his shoulder blades. Steve laughed, and leaned his head back against Billy’s shoulder for a kiss. Billy gave him one—then two—then stared at Steve’s startled grin, and sighed, brushing their lips together as the magnetic pull hauled him back in, and Steve gave a muffled laugh and a contented noise deep in his throat, closing his eyes. He tasted sweet, like the cookies he’d been eating, even sweeter than usual, and Billy groaned and shoved Steve forward again in order to push his sweater and shirt up over his shoulders, white from winter, and scattered with birthmarks. Billy kissed a few of them.

“Better keep me warm,” Steve whispered, curling up in his arms, and Billy pulled him in as tight as he could, burying his probably goofy-looking grin in Steve’s hair.

“Oh, I’ll warm you up,” he whispered, and Steve snickered, relaxed against him as Billy slid his hands around Steve's waist, and down to undo his boyfriend’s jeans. Steve groaned, shivering as Billy pulled his cock out—it was already satisfyingly hard in his hand, and Billy rubbed the edge of his thumb across it, so Steve grunted and squirmed in his lap. “...guess the Partridge Family really does it for you,” Billy whispered.

“Shut your face,” Steve mumbled, panting. “You do it for me, we could be—we could be listening to like. Bird calls, I don’t give a fuck—”

“You saying Tweety Bird gets your motor running,” Billy whispered back, and Steve elbowed him, mostly hitting sweater.

“Fuck you,” he hissed, his hips jerking so his dick bumped against Billy’s thumb again, into his hand, and Billy squeezed it, the wetness letting his thumb slide easily over the tip. “Oh jesus,” Steve whispered. “God…”

“Lay down,” Billy said, biting his shoulder gently, and Steve arched against him, groaning. “Come on, your majesty, I’m not even done unwrapping you yet.”

“...nerd,” Steve snorted, panting, but he let himself be pressed back onto the sleeping bag, his cock sliding against Billy’s hand as Billy held him down, gently, by the lower belly, tugging his jeans off. Steve bent his legs up to let Billy yank the legs off without having to move, and Billy laughed as he tugged Steve’s socks off, and tossed them away. Steve grinned up at him, his face lit by the lights on the tree, making him look a little starry.

“There,” Billy said, rubbing his free hand up Steve’s thigh. He leaned in to kiss his boyfriend’s naked dick, and Steve yelped, moaning in the back of his throat.

“What—about you,” he grunted, his voice a little rough. “You gonna raw me in your jeans?”

He sounded hungry at the thought, and Billy filed that away for later. “Nah,” he whispered, swinging a leg over so he was sitting across his boyfriend’s thighs. “Thought I’d make you watch me, for a bit,” he said, sliding two fingers in his mouth, and sucking on them.

Steve muttered “Oh, shit,” and propped himself up on his elbows.

“Now you got me in this damn...Mr. Rogers sweater,” Billy said, keeping his voice low as he drug his fingers down it, Steve’s gaze fixed on them as his dick leaked.

“Don’t talk about Mr. Rogers, gross,” he whispered, and Billy grinned, swinging his hips a little from side to side so Steve's naked thighs could feel the warmth of his ass through jeans. “Jesus,” Steve muttered, clenching his fists as Billy slid both hands around his own waist just under the edge of the sweater, lifting them up underneath against his sides, and Steve laughed a little unevenly, his eyes widening.

Billy lifted the sweater a little more, running his fingers lightly over his abs, and then his pecs as they flexed with his arms up in the damn sweater, and Steve swallowed visibly. Billy pulled the sweater off his shoulders and head, shaking his hair back, and flexed his arms as he pulled the sweater sleeves off.

Steve threw his head back laughing. “Love you,” he said, always picking the weirdest times.

“We’re boning to the Partridge Family,” Billy hissed, instantly irritated. “If this fuckery isn’t love I don’t know what is.”

“I know,” Steve said, his smile soft even as his cock dripped on his belly. “Thanks for boning me to the Partridge Family.”

“Shut the hell up, I’m stripping,” Billy growled, and Steve started laughing again, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, and Billy swore and leaned in to kiss him, flattening him to the ground, and wiping the wetness away from his boyfriend’s eyes with his knuckles. “The fuck is wrong with you,” he muttered, and Steve snickered, sniffling. “You want me to hurry up?”

“No,” Steve laughed, swallowing a suspicious gulping sound, and Billy frowned harder. “I just like this,” Steve whispered, laughing, his eyes welling up again. “I like this Christmas.”

“Are you gonna do this every year?” Billy asked in horror, imagining his boyfriend crying through sex while puppets wailed in the background, and Steve laughed harder, wiping his face.

“You saying you’re gonna bone me under the tree every year?” he asked, and Billy felt his face heat. Steve grinned, reaching up to tuck Billy’s curls out of his face, behind his ear. “In sickness and in health?”

“Why are you so weird,” Billy groaned, rocking his hips, so Steve grunted, closing his eyes. “Yes. Yeah. Next year we’ll fuck to Frosty, can I get back to stripping now?”

“Yeah,” Steve laughed, sniffling. “I love you. Yeah.”

“Christ,” Billy muttered, wiping his boyfriend’s eyes and cheeks again, his own eyes stinging a little—probably with embarrassment, he thought, fairly sure he was gonna get a half-chub every time he heard the Partridge Family playing, for the rest of his life.

Steve was still hard, at least—which was more disconcerting than anything—so Billy sighed, and rolled his hips again, as a reset. Every time he did, his fly brushed the bottom of Steve’s dick, and he groaned, rocking his head back against the sleeping bag. He was starting to sweat, and the light of the tree made him glisten.

“Look at me,” Billy told him, and Steve folded his arms behind his head to see. Billy ran his fingers up his new blue shirt—cupping his sides like his hands were Steve’s, and then running his hands up along the buttons to undo the first one.

“Never seen you with your shirt all the way on before,” Steve whispered, his eyes fond, and Billy snorted.

“Can’t let up on the advertising campaign,” he said. “Gotta show you the goods.”

“No, you don’t,” Steve reached down to squeeze Billy’s thigh through his jeans. Billy undid another button, parting the fabric over his collarbones, and running his hands down his neck, and Steve leaned his head on one shoulder, smiling up. “I’m not gonna...forget, jesus,” he whispered. “Never gonna forget what you look like, babe.”

Billy grabbed the sweater and leaned in to lift Steve’s head into a kiss, tucking the sweater behind it as a pillow.

“God,” Steve whispered against his mouth, running his hands over Billy’s half-unbuttoned shirt.

Billy sat back upright again, while Steve groaned and grabbed at his shirt as he pulled away. Billy undid another button, letting his nails scrape along his skin as he scooped his pendant into his mouth, swaying his hips. He slid his fingers down over the remaining buttons to brush over the edge of his belt, raising his eyebrows at Steve, who laughed, panting.

“Yeah, I’m watching, loverboy.” Steve leaned back on one elbow, smiling smugly, and Billy watched the low golden light on his boyfriend’s face and hair.

Billy ran his fingers over his fly, and down in his pants, tugging his shirt tails out one by one, and swayed his hips in a slow figure-eight as Steve bucked a little under him, grinning.

“Gonna be New Years by the time you’re done, jesus,” Steve said, his gaze riveted to Billy’s hands.

“Can’t keep it up, there, pretty boy?” Billy asked, arching his back as he undid the lowest button, and then parted his shirt like a curtain and undid the one above it to show his taut belly and the trail of hair leading into his jeans.

“Not the problem,” Steve said through gritted teeth, the fingers on his free hand digging into Billy’s thighs.

Billy stopped, looking down to unbutton his cuff and roll it up a couple of times, humming carelessly as Steve squirmed under him, smacking his leg.

“Hurry up, you bastard,” he demanded, and Billy smiled, unbuttoning the other cuff.

“You gonna ask nicely?” he asked, and Steve laughed, shifting under him with a grimace. “You’re leaking like a hose connection with a bad washer.”

“Shut up,” Steve hissed. “Like you aren’t making me.”

“Maybe I should stop,” Billy said, stretching so his shirt lifted.

“Please, please, you dickhead,” Steve broke. “My legs are fucking going to sleep, and my dick’s gonna explode—”

“Thought you loved me,” Billy said, licking his lips, and leaning in so his stomach brushed Steve’s dick. Steve yelped, groaning, and bucking up into the friction. “Isn’t that what you were saying earlier? King Steve, the chosen one?”

“Love you a lot more if you let me touch,” Steve growled, laughing. As Billy sat up, Steve reached out and yanked at his belt, and Billy laughed, smacking Steve’s hand away.

“Thought you didn’t want Christmas to be over,” Billy whispered, and Steve laughed harder, his cock dripping across his stomach.

“Yeah,” he admitted, leaning back with a shaky breath. “Yeah, I don’t. Never want this to be over.” His knuckles went white as his fingers tightened on Billy’s swaying thighs.

The Partridge Family switched to Winter Wonderland, and Billy’s side was warmed by the fire. He knew the light of it gilded his hair and skin as he flexed his bare forearms, sliding a finger under the leather strap of his belt as Steve groaned.

Billy flicked it out of the belt loops, tugging it off the tongue of the buckle and slowly drawing it loose over his fly. Steve twitched under him, swallowing back a noise as Billy’s jeans brushed his cock. “You want me to fuck you?” Billy asked, undoing the buttons of his jeans one-by-one so Steve could see he was going commando, and pressing his thumb and forefinger together in a tight circle over his own dick, so Steve’s bounced untouched on his stomach.

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed, looking him over, and Billy grinned.

“Want me to do all the work,” Billy whispered, swaying his hips with the music, “—so all you have to do is lie there?”

“Anything,” Steve said. “Love you, jesus.”

Billy’s hand stuttered, and he leaned forward again, bracing himself over Steve’s chest. “Tell me,” he said. “You want me to ride you? What?”

“I want everything,” Steve said, his eyes wide and soft, and then he grinned. “I mean, we got so many leftovers to get through. Whatever we don’t do now—”

“How can you be such a romantic and such a shithead,” Billy muttered, reaching down to squeeze his boyfriend’s hand.

“Fuck me just like that,” Steve said. “Your party jeans and that shirt. You look like—you’re a wet dream, jesus.” Billy grinned, cocking his head and licking his lips, and Steve laughed shakily. “Yeah, come on, asshole,” he whispered. “Billy.”

“Yeah,” Billy said, scrounging around in the back of the TV cabinet where he��d hidden the lube, and pulling the condom out of his back pocket. He squirted some lube in his hand, and pushed Steve’s legs up to slide his hand between them, watching him squirm against the cold.

“Warm it up, dickhead,” Steve muttered, grabbing his wrist, but as soon as Billy started sliding his fingers up and down, Steve relaxed, going boneless with one leg bent up, the other sprawled to the side. His eyes went half-lidded as he grinned up in the starry rainbow lights.

Billy watched him pant in the light of the Christmas tree, and smiled, holding Steve’s hips flat to the floor with one hand, and bending to slip his mouth over his boyfriend’s cock.

“Jesus christ,” Steve grunted, shifting under Billy’s hands, and Billy hummed along with the song, knowing he could probably shove on in, but taking it slow, swirling his tongue around Steve’s dick as his fingers worked. He rubbed over the edge of Steve’s hole, over and over, until he was squirming, red-cheeked, and biting his lips together, and he finally said “Jesus, fuck me, god—”

Billy lifted his mouth off Steve’s cock with a pop. “His majesty’s getting impatient,” he said, and Steve yelled “Yes, I fucking am.” Billy laughed, leaning his head against Steve’s knee, and then kissed it, before crawling up to kiss Steve’s mouth.

“Fuck you,” Steve muttered, panting, his skin gleaming with sweat in the light of the tree. “God…” he whispered against Billy’s mouth, whining softly, and Billy grabbed the sweater and shoved it under Steve’s back, pushing his legs up so Billy could push slowly in.

“Merry Christmas,” he mumbled, and Steve started snickering, grunting as Billy’s weight pushed the air from his lungs, but pulling him in for a kiss, bent nearly double.

“God, you feel good,” Steve grunted, as Billy narrowed his eyes, checking his boyfriend’s sprawled limbs for tension before thrusting his hips. “God, yes,” Steve moaned, kissing hazily at anything of Billy's he could reach.

It wasn’t so bad, Billy decided, boning Steve Harrington under the Christmas tree, and watching the Christmas lights reflect off his eyes. Even the music wasn’t too awful—he mostly tuned it out—until Billy went too hard, rustling the nearest branch of the tree as Steve writhed beneath him, and a popcorn ball smacked right between his shoulders and bounced off Steve’s knee, and they both had to stop while they laughed themselves breathless.

“Let’s do this every year,” Steve whispered into his shoulder once they’d finished, sweaty and smiling, and Billy snorted a laugh, pulling him closer.

“...yeah, okay,” he whispered back, running his hand around his boyfriend’s ass where it was still a little sticky, and considering Round Two. “You’re worth it.”

“Good,” Steve laughed, squirming closer. “You’re worth it too. This. Anything.”

“...love you too,” Billy whispered, hugging him close.

#harringrove #Finally the pornz #Found family #Boyfriend cookies #platypan FINISHED FIC

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forkanna · 5 years

Link

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

CHAPTER WARNING: Sensuality, over-the-clothes stuff.

Hello, everyone! We would like to take a moment to point out that until Elsa decides to label herself, please refrain from presuming her sexuality. There have been one or two (not many) comments hinting that she has to be fully hetero- or homosexual. Eventually, that will become more clear, but please do not label her because (mostly) it will give you erroneous expectations for the story itself. Thanks and enjoy!

By the time she got back to Doc's, the sun was just beginning to set. She let herself in and poked around the living room and kitchen, not really expecting to bump into Doc at all. Where else would he be but in his garage-slash-workshop?

However, finding him in the living room revealed something that made her heart sink.

"Oh my God." A tinny voice floated out of the TV as she edged her way in there. It was a frighteningly familiar phrase – one she'd already lived through. "They found me. I don't know how they possibly could have, but they found me."

"…Doc?" she asked softly, coming into view.

He started as though he'd been electrocuted. "Anna! My dear girl! I was simply… analysing the videographic components of your recording device. The clarity of the image leaves little to be desired…"

He was lying. But she didn't feel like calling him out on it. Maybe it was even for the best. If Doc knew what was going to happen, then maybe he could take steps to prevent it. So she kept her mouth shut, instead heading over to the couch and flopping down. She really needed a shower.

"How did it go?" Doc asked, abandoning the phone to stand in front of her. "Are they going together?"

Sighing, Anna rubbed a hand over her face. "I don't know. Kris was halfway through asking when we were… interrupted. Hopefully while I distracted Hans, he coughed up the courage."

"Anna, he has to-"

"You think I don't know, Doc?" she interrupted, suddenly angry with him. "What, you think I've been prancing about, hoping it'll all magically work? I finally got Elsa to actually look at him. When your own mother would rather hang out with chicks, and you happen to be one she's attracted to, things become a little more difficult!"

Doc didn't say anything. Anna felt a little bad at going off on him, so she swung her legs from the lounge and stood up. "I'm going to have a shower…"

"Listen," he sighed before she could quite leave the room. "Future Girl… I appreciate the difficulty of your circumstances. And I must admit, having you around these past few days has been… well, unusual, but in a way it's as if…"

"As if?" she prompted when he didn't finish. But he only waved the unspoken sentiment away. What was he going to say?

"Nevermind. You work on fixing them up, and I'll work on the time machine."

"Yeah," she sighed, all of her anger having evaporated. Now she just felt tired.

"Oh, and by the way, I believe I've fixed the starter, at least. Still working out the kinks with the plan to harness the power of the storm, but… all is progressing on schedule."

Nodding a few times, she gave him the best smile she could. It was still pretty pathetic, but it was all she could muster. "Thanks, Doc. Always doing your best with what you got, huh? I guess I kinda learned that from you."

Then she left, before the moment got more awkward. She had a feeling Doc was going to say she was like the daughter he never had, given that he had said those exact words to her before – in the future. Unfortunately, in that moment, she didn't much feel like a good daughter to anyone.

~ o ~

The scent of shampoo and conditioner was still strong in Anna's hair when there came a knock at the door. "DOC! DOOR!" she called, pulling on the button-up shirt that passed for something to wear. She didn't even have more than one bra, since there wouldn't be much point in buying more than one if she was only living there for a week, so she left that off. It was beginning to get pretty grimy.

Doc didn't answer. And the knock came again. Rolling her eyes, she struggled back into her jeans and padded through the hallway, then clomped down the stairs. Was it coming from the garage? "Alright, alright, here I come!"

Wrenching the door open, she couldn't help the squeak when it wasn't an angry Mr Tannen, a sad Kristoff, or a concerned neighbor.

"HI!" she squawked. And Elsa Baines gave a shy smile.

"Hi, yourself. You look comfortable."

Oh god. She was a post-shower mess! At least she was clean, but that wasn't the same as presentable. Meanwhile, Elsa's hair was a little less outrageous than at school today, but that didn't mean the rest of her style had followed. There was much too much stomach on display – Elsa had forgone the high-waisted jeans this time. Instead, a short denim skirt sat on her hips below a crop-top shirt.

"Can I come in?" she asked, peering around Anna. "Oh, this must be your uncle!"

Anna turned around, eyes widening as Doc finally sauntered in from where he had been. Upon realising that there was someone at the door, he rushed over, grabbing a heavy tarp to cover the DeLorean.

"Um, sure. Sorry," Anna said, stepping aside to let Elsa through.

Elsa gave Doc a polite smile. "Yo," she said. "I'm Elsa." She held out her hand.

"Um… pleased to make your acquaintance," Doc managed to mutter, accepting the hand and only briefly shaking it before releasing her, then nodding to Anna. "Um… I take it you're here to visit, I'll just…"

"Let's talk in here," Anna took over, indicating the living room – and more importantly, away from the DeLorean. The relieved look on Doc's face was only shown once Elsa's back was turned, but she had to suppress a small chuckle to see it.

Once sequestered away from the potentially-dangerous nonsense of Doc's workshop, Anna looked around briefly, then turned back. "Um… I'd say 'make yourself at home' but I barely feel at home here, so… I guess, do you wanna sit?"

"Sure." Anna motioned to the chair, then sat on the couch. Of course, Elsa sat next to her instead. Why would she do anything else?

"Oh! Um… h-hello."

"Hi," her mother purred with a big smile. Then she bit her lip for a moment, as if trying to summon her courage. It looked all too familiar; that was exactly what Kristoff had been doing every time he tried to talk to Elsa. "I, uh…"

"Yeah? Come on, time is money." She was joking, but Elsa flinched. "N-not really! I mean, I don't have a job, obviously." That was really awkward. Anna frowned at herself. Stupid.

"Right. So, um… yeah, so you looked really awesome on that skateboard today. I, uh… I didn't know you board. How long have you been doing it?"

"Oh, yknow… a while…" Anna didn't really want to talk to Elsa about it; not when she – well, her older counterpart – was mostly the reason Anna had taken up exercising in the first place. Anywhere with fresh air and an excuse to not be home. It had started just by walking, but then she realised that despite her general lack of coordination, skateboarding was actually something she was pretty good at.

Her ability to brush off a fall or a graze notwithstanding.

Elsa obviously didn't know how to continue that train of thought; not when she had so successfully been shut down. Anna cleared her throat, self-conscious. She had to know. "So, I noticed Kristoff talking to you before Hans interrupted. Anything important?"

But Elsa didn't have an answer. "He was being a little… odd," she said. "And then yeah, there was Hans and we were a little distracted. After you left, he said he had to go babysit or something."

"Ah." Damn. He almost had it, too. Stupid Hans and his stupid face. But then Elsa was speaking again and Anna's attention was taken up just by watching her.

"Yeah… Oh! I, uh, I made you something."

"You what?" But Elsa was already pushing a small plastic box into her hands. "Uhh… okay, now I'm even more confused."

"It's a mix tape. You know, all the kids are making them; I, uh… we don't have enough compact discs for me to make it all sound professional, so most of it's off the radio. But I hope you like it, an- anyway."

While Elsa was nervously biting her lip, Anna glanced down at the cassette. She recognised most of the names listed on the little paper insert in her teenage mother's loopy handwriting: Cyndi Lauper, Bowie, Madonna, Tears For Fears, Pretenders, Flock Of Seagulls, Joan Jett… and of course,'Til Tuesday. There were a few names she didn't know – who the hell was Level 42?! – but honestly, not that many. Eighties music was her jam, after all.

"Wow… yeah, thank you." But realising that sounded insincere, she looked up into Elsa's hopeful eyes. "Seriously, this is bomb. I-I mean, it's rad. Really, um, bitchin'."

"Bitchin'," she breathed back with a definite blush. Great; they were already in trouble again. "Oh, Al finally asked Jazz to the dance!"

The corners of Anna's mouth lifted into a smile, but she couldn't inject much feeling into it. Not while she was still trying to figure out what the tape meant, and how to manoeuvre her parents together. "That's great, Els," she said, hoping the words would cover for her lacklustre expression. Elsa didn't even notice because she was suddenly staring at her lap.

"I- no one's asked me. Or Ariel, so we're going to go as a group. Y'know, stag? I… I would really love it if you came with us…"

"Oh, I don't want to be a third- fourth… fifth wheel? Or stag?" They both laughed a little. But she could tell Elsa wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. "Um… we can make that our plan, unless somebody does end up asking you. Never know."

"I mean… I know who I wish would ask me." The admission was pretty raw, even without identifying the person, so Elsa sat up a little straighter, clearing her throat. "B-but um, yes. Also, we want to get this party together for the night before."

"What? A party?"

"Yeah!" She nodded emphatically, her previous embarrassment forgotten. "See, Ariel has to do this family thing the morning after the dance and she can't get out of it, plus people have church, blah blah." Anna smiled; she knew that one of those church people was Elsa, if she remembered her maternal grandparents with any clarity – and Elsa herself in her future. "So we wanna party like it's 1999 the night before. Problem is, we can't find anywhere good besides Jazz's mom's place, and it's tiny, so… s-so we're probably just going to end up back at Lou's."

At that, Anna began to scheme, bumping the corner of her mixtape against her lips. If she could get her parents talking at this party, in a very casual, very "fun" environment, it could more naturally lead to him asking her to the dance.

"Well… what if I know a place that's completely empty? Though I don't know if you could get enough stuff together to get a party going…"

At that, Elsa's eyes flew open. "What, really? Oh my God, gag me with a spoon! Tori saves the day like Gizmo!" And then she laughed and pulled Anna in for a hug, and Anna chuckled because she honestly had no idea what Elsa had said but it seemed like a good thing.

However, then she had a new problem. Elsa was squeezing her just a little too tight, face buried in the crook of her shoulder and neck. She was almost nuzzling, hands passing up and down her back a little too freely. Not that it was much of a surprise after their last extended hug, but Anna still found herself a little surprised.

"I-it's no big deal," she finally managed to say in a soft voice, embracing her back.

It had the opposite effect than Anna was hoping for, though. As much as she loved hugging Elsa – and it was getting easier to admit that to herself – she had hoped that it would encourage Elsa to still her hands.

No such luck. In fact, it actually made it worse because it brought Elsa closer to her. Elsa let out a little sigh, relaxing further against Anna's front. It made three things very, very obvious, that in hindsight Anna should have expected.

First, that she still wasn't wearing a bra.

Secondly, apparently Elsa wasn't wearing a bra, either.

And third… nipple piercings made every tender motion shoot through the sensitive buds so much more strongly. Maybe it wouldn't have been all that bad, except Elsa's were definitely perkier than could be explained away by the relatively mild Autumn. So they were both in a similar predicament.

"Ooh," Anna couldn't help breathing. Guilt slammed into her immediately afterward; that was not okay. This was her mother! Her mother as an awkward, barely-gay teenager!

But Elsa didn't back away. In fact, she shifted again, and Anna felt herself freeze when heat filled her stomach at the same moment the shame did. She knew that it shouldn't feel this amazing, but it did. It was pure eros.

Obviously Elsa thought the same. Anna was distinctly aware of Elsa's hands as they moved again. This time, though, they weren't moving up and down her back. Elsa's head remained bowed even as her hands came close to Anna's front. They hovered just below her armpits, trembling with a need Anna wasn't even sure Elsa knew how to deal with.

It was all wrong! This was the moment she had been hoping to have with Punz. With anyone, as starved for affection as she had felt for so long. Even Merida's joking commentary about "throwing her one" had begun to sound actually appealing, despite it being a joke.

And it was happening with Elsa Baines, the woman who would grow up to give birth to her one day. But she wasn't yet. She wasn't Elsa McFly. They were almost completely different creatures; this Elsa was shy, and young, and edging into the queer side of life. Sweet and inviting. Her mother was old, bitter; hollowed out by a life she didn't want. And most importantly, her mother would scarcely even touch her at all.

This Elsa… wanted to do more than just touch her. Those two hands shifted so that her thumbs began to inch their way between two different sets of breasts, the soft pads facing in Anna's direction when they came into contact with stiffening peaks through the soft fabric of her shirt.

"You- is that… a piercing?" Elsa asked, voice soft. Reverential. "W-wow. That's totally gnarly. And… hot."

Try as she might to suppress it, she couldn't quite hold back the moan, both at the words and the touch. That one sound seemed to encourage Elsa like nothing else. Anna had barely a moment to prepare before Elsa was pressing in again, thumbs carefully circling the pebbling flesh and the shifting barbells.

"Elsa…" she practically panted, closing her eyes for a moment. "Maybe… maybe we should stop…?"

She did want to, truly. This wasn't right. Her mind told her that Punz was waiting for her. Her heart was telling her that! But it was also telling her that Elsa was here. Elsa wanted her, and she wanted Elsa in return, morality be damned. Eyes squeezed shut, a murky issue of emotions swirling about her face as she lifted her hands.

"Maybe we should," Elsa breathed softly against her neck, her ear, causing her next moan to come out in a quavering tone, for her hands to fall uselessly back down. "But I don't think either of us want to…"

Heat pulsed in the center of Anna's lap. So little effort was required. Just push her buttons and Anna fell apart like a paper boat, the mixtape bouncing off her lap and onto Doc's carpets. She didn't want to simply let Elsa turn her on, but how could she put up any defenses when she seemed to be so effortlessly good at it?

Think about Mom, she demanded of herself as hot breath caressed her neck, lips grazing over gooseflesh. Your mom, back in your time. Her crabbiness killing your mood every day… this is her. This is the same woman you're letting fondle you!

But it wasn't working. It only seemed to have the power to stop her from doing anything back for now, not to get her to push Elsa away. How could she when she craved any kind of attention from her? Plus, she knew that she couldn't stop herself for much longer. Not when she wanted any kind of physical contact with Elsa as bad as she did.

Not when she wanted to do things to that perky chest that were nowhere near familial.

Still… maybe she could get Elsa to stop. Already hating herself, she let out the only sound that could diffuse the situation.

"Mom…"

Elsa froze. "T-Tori?" Her eyes were wide, face flushed. Her arousal was still incredibly obvious, which only made Anna feel worse. But it had the desired effect. Elsa jerked her hands away, looking down.

"S-sorry," Anna said softly. It had worked. Her plan had been to stop this before they got too far ahead. She didn't want to think about why she felt so disappointed.

"What did you say before?" Elsa asked, beside herself. Full of heat with nowhere for it to go. Now, all Anna had to do was glance down and she could see the outlines of her peaks, and desire filled her… but she made herself look up and away.

"N-nothing. I'm…" She had to be careful. That was something Anna was really bad at, but she had to try. "So that, um, that happened."

Swallowing hard, Elsa turned to face away from her, eyes wide and staring. Sure, she was still turned on beyond belief, but she also seemed to realise there was something off about their interaction now.

"I'm so sorry. When I get that close to you… I can't seem to stop myself."

"It's okay," Anna lied, petting along Elsa's back. When wide eyes turned toward her, she jerked the hand away, but then returned it. "Really. I… well, clearly I'm having a little trouble over here, too."

Elsa snorted. "Geez, I'll say." Then she sobered up. "I never- this is so new for me. And I haven't forgotten that you have like… a girl waiting for you. I don't wanna lose your friendship but I don't know if I can pretend that I don't like-like you. That I don't want to… to share this kind of thing with you… and way more."

That bald confession made Anna want to cry. "Elsa..." It was so heartfelt – nevermind it did things to the rest of her central nervous system. She felt herself tearing up, and Elsa rushed to comfort her.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry! You don't want a pathetic… me… learning about girls on you. It's not fair. You're just so… amazing, Tori…"

"I'm sorry for being so weird about this. Whatever it is we have. Because I kinda really like it, and I definitely don't hate you, or think you're pathetic! Seriously! Just… I dunno, we need to chill."

It was only partially true. By now, Anna knew that she genuinely did want more from Elsa than simple friendship, or parenting. But those were base desires talking. Her higher brain functions knew that she needed to get Kristoff into the picture and set those two crazy kids on their way to happily ever after. Hopefully, a little happier than she remembered them, but at the absolute least to a procreation state of mind. So she and her siblings wouldn't disappear.

However, Elsa didn't know that. She'd made it quite clear that she thought Anna was simply humouring her; as painful as that idea was, it would be far worse it Elsa found out the truth. Clearing her throat slightly, Anna stood up to walk her to the door.

But Elsa had perked up at Anna's small admission. "You… like it?" she asked softly. Throat suddenly dry, Anna nodded. Damn, she hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"I'm really excited for the party," she said instead, taking the lead and directing Elsa out the front. Still, her voice was higher and more nervous than she would have liked. "Is it okay if I get the address to you tomorrow? Kinda, um, exhausted right now. Running away from Hans and everything."

"Oh, of course!" Elsa responded. At least she didn't seem upset about what had transpired – in fact, she seemed almost happy. Anna didn't want to think on why that might have been, so she tried her best to push it from her mind.

Elsa turned back to her at the front door. That burning desire was still so there, boldly written in her eyes – the way they glanced all over Anna, drinking her in. Anna felt naked under such an intense gaze. But still, her words obviously had an effect on Elsa, though. Instead of a hug, Elsa simply put her hand on Anna's shoulder, squeezing gently. The fact that Elsa was actively reining in her emotions – her desire – was a small comfort. It showed that Elsa respected her wishes.

"Great! Then I'll… see you tomorrow! To plan, a-and whatever!"

"Yes, there'll be music, fun, dancing through the night…" Biting her lip for a moment longer, Elsa seemed to make a conscious effort to allow herself to do something moderately scandalous. She leaned forward and pecked Anna on the lips. It was nothing, the kind of thing she remembered her doing when she was a little girl, but more bold than Elsa was used to being. Even if clearly less bold than her thumbs had been moments before.

"O-oh, well… yeah!" Anna whispered with a huge grin, knowing her freckled cheeks were glowing. "We're gonna get turnt- I mean, party like it's 1999!"

Grinning back at the reference – one they could both get for once – Elsa gave her shoulder one last squeeze. "Looking forward to it!" Then she was skipping down Doc's steps and heading for her parents' Gremlin.

It took a few minutes for Anna to collect herself. To let the blush and the smile fade, for a more sober outlook to set in as she wandered back toward the garage. She basically had a date. A date with her own mother. And she would have to go through with it, because…

Because if she broke her mother's heart, she would be too upset to go out with her father. Which was the only thing she absolutely could not do. Her life depended on it.

~ o ~

"Perhaps you should call this off," Doc said once she had explained the situation, and the crease of concern between his bushy eyebrows was very real. "The head can be easily persuaded, but the heart… if it's set on you, then she won't have room for anyone else. Your proximity is more of a detriment than a benefit."

"But I can't turn back now," she sighed, sinking down into an empty stool and staring down at the concrete. "If I blow her off, she might turn to Kristoff for comfort… like, sure, it's possible. But what if she just closes herself off completely? Shuts down because… because I hurt her? Then I won't even be able to keep telling her to give him a chance. So… so I'm stuck."

Doc sighed, walking over to her to rest a hand on her shoulder. "I trust you to do the right thing, Anna," he began, "but… I don't know if you trust yourself anymore. That is partially what I'm worried about. And this unprecedented magnetism between you two girls. Honestly, this would make a fascinating case study if not for the grave ramifications should we not succeed in our mission."

Anna didn't have a good response for all that, so she just said, "Thanks for your help, Doc. Don't worry, I'll… I think I'm just gonna turn in early. But maybe tomorrow I can figure all this shit out."

He didn't try to stop her.

To Be Continued…

#Fractal The Future #fruipit #forkanna writes #Back to the Future #frozen fanfiction #elsanna fanfiction #elsanna #jess the writer

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glvndas · 6 years

Text

i’m a storm with skin. it’s getting windy again.

✧*:･ﾟ✧ merlin! is that KIERSEY CLEMONS? no, it’s just GLENDA CHITTOCK the SEVENTH YEAR RAVENCLAW ( MUGGLEBORN ). we’ve heard rumors that SHE/THEY ( GENDERQUEER ) is PASSIONATE, INDIVIDUALISTIC & STREETSMART but can also be very PACIFISTIC, RAMBUNCTIOUS & SELF PRESERVING if i had to pick one song to describe SHE/THEY it would CHERRY BOMB BY THE RUNAWAYS. Good luck with the rest of your time at Hogwarts.

INSPO: pinboard and stats page.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: alcohol, drugs (slight mentions, explicit ones will be marked)

AESTHETIC: wind clashing against your window at night, distressed jeans, a radio playing in the background, messy handwriting, an angry yell, rainbows, wanting to play guitar but never practicing, crumpled up paper, the calmness after and the hysteria during crying, a storm in summer

history

ironically, she’s not born on a day where the world rages or storms to match her spirit, but on a calm summer morning when everything is pristine and fragile. glenda is everything but that, even at a young age: she’s loud and passionate and brash, so much more similar to a hurricane than a quiet summer day.

her mother leaves when she is three. glenda and her younger sister are left with their dad, who’s wonderful – yes – but a brokenhearted and absent one. after all, there are too many bills to pay in order for him to look after his little girls, and he spends more time at his job than with them. daisy, her sister, and glenda see little of him and learn how to be independent at a young age, learn how to deal with neighbours who are forced to keep an eye on them and family members who let them run around their house. they don’t resent their dad, know that he’s working this hard for them.

and so glenda grows up, without a mother and with an absent father. she lives in a bad neighbourhood, one where crime and racism and poverty and drugs are all around, where unhappiness is the norm. she learns here that she cannot be fragile. her grief about her mother leaving turns into anger, her sadness about not seeing her dad as much as she wants to, into acceptance. she becomes independent, learns how to look after herself, how to wield her emotions into tools rather than weaknesses, how to walk those dangerous streets without getting into trouble. she curls her back with pride and locks her fears away.

strange things happen, though, as they tend to with muggleborns. she laughs about them, thinks them part of her hectic every day life, rather than something that’s actually serious. but then, when she turns eleven on the sixth of august she learns the truth. glenda chittock is not only a student who gets in more trouble than is good, is not only someone who minds little when her knees get dirty or scabbed, not only someone who once stole a Rolling Stones cassette tape that she hides in her pillow, but she is also a WITCH. when she finds out, her first reaction was to laugh, but she knows it’s true when her laugh dies out and things turned quiet.

she leaves for hogwarts a little over a month later and cries when she says goodbye to her sister. sorted into ravenclaw for her streetsmart ways and creative potential, glenda flourishes!!!! she finds skills in things she never expected herself to be good at — comc, for example, soon becomes her favourite subject — and she navigates the hallways with a broad smile, joining a lot of clubs and dropping them more often than not. she’s flighty and quick, always trying to be somewhere,

currently

she’s in her seventh year at the moment and honestly has no idea where she wants to go after graduation. glenda’s not really a good witch, to be honest; she’s good at making sure plants don’t die and can accio stuff, but she’s not really good with the whole magic stuff (giving some purists more ammunition! ayo!). she’s intelligent, though, very streetsmart, and she can be very eloquent when she feels like it, and all that just makes her wonder if she should even LOOK for a career in the wizarding world? she’s thinking of maybe doing something in the journalism sphere of things -- muggle or magical, she doesnt know yet -- as she’s very interested in the news and stuff, but honestly? she has no idea.

over the years, glenda has grown v passionate about human rights. she reads about house elves, so-called ‘half-breeds’ and muggle discrimination at hogwarts and about environmentalism, racism, sexism and queerphobia in the library at home ( a place she hadn’t stepped foot in before she turned fourteen ). she comes out of the closet as gay, becomes a vegetarian, starts thinking about gender and her own gender with a new mindset, and starts to form her own ideals, her own thoughts and views. she’s outspoken, honestly, and uses her loud voice to talk about the topics she cares about. it’s the only things he really seems to like: to actively talk abt what she cares about. she goes to her first protest the summer before this one, and she feels more alive than ever before.

honestly spends most of her days at hogwarts procrastinating her homework by either having fun with people around her or reading about the above mentioned topics! she’s not too fussed abt newts -- someone pls shake her and make her study more -- and she’s def that ravenclaw who just?? doesnt rly care abt coursework bc look! at all these other things to learn! glenda is very carefree on a shallow level and it shows, especially now that things are Getting Real. she just wants to hang w ppl who inspire her and smoke a lil weed and have a laugh?

conclusion & ramblings

glenda is a little hippie, alternative bean who loves talking about everything!!!! just a loudmouth, tbh, who can talk endlessly about anything that intrigues her even a little. cares a lot about a lot, but is also v self-serving so sometimes she compromises her ideal to stay safe. which, i mean, in this economy? not the dumbest thing to do.

loves all kinds of music. donna summer and diana ross are Icons, but she also loves joan jett and debbie harry and just!!! everything!! jsut really into this generations’ music and has been FOR EVER. disco is amazing, btw, just so you all know!

likes plants a lot. this includes weed. lmao.

dr martens with woollen socks aesthetic.

is genderqueer, but hasnt really found the right terminology yet. she knows she does identify with being a girl/woman, but not fully, and she’s learning about gender a lot more now that she knows that she’s wondering about her own gender as well? glenda doesnt know exactly what her gender is, but she knows she’s not a cis-woman, and that gender-neutral pronouns do feel good to her as well.

will fight a Man but only with words tbh she’s shit at physical fights??? lmao.

honestly not the Best Witch out there, wishes she was more talented but also?? she’s SMart so who cares that she can’t transfigure a cup into an animal or the other way around, that’s … fucking useless ( @ minerva mcgoogles !!! ). like she’s successful either way so!!

angery and scared abt the war. like. she’s super idealistic, so she’s ENRAGED that this is happening, and that her being a muggleborn will and has put her in a shit position? but glenda is very self serving and is not going to join any rebellion groups ( she also doesnt believe in fighting fire with fire & is v pacifistic ) bc she’s like! yeah! i’m not gonna put a sign on my back! more on this nature later

chaotic neutral AS FUCK. serves herself, but she has Good Ideals so that’s not necessarily a Bad Thing? it’s just kind of hypocritical at times, because she doesn’t always stick to her ideals out of selfish motivations, but it’s also just a rly tough time to live in. glenda also comes from a really shit neighbourhood, like she’s learned to fend for herself + the ppl she loves (mostly her sister) there. she knows when to keep her head down and keep on walking, and this definitely shows in her position re: the war.

there’s some anger and pain in glenda, and a lot of fear too, but she’s generally just a ? good person to be around (unless youre a blood purist, then you can GO in her eyes). she’s outgoing and cheerful and likes joking around n stuff, can Also get down to business and have more serious talks -- she’s not Extremely open, but will talk abt shit with people -- when needed and yeah. social kid.

i love a gay hippie icon!! that’s all!!

#vulneraintro #; * ! half girl ; half storm ( intro. ) ;#ayooooo!!!

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rkjoohyvn · 6 years

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↠ * star bright auditions , ♥«´¨`•°.. getting to know emily kim seola ! » ¸.•*( outfit )`*•.

speaking has always come easy for seola, so much so that she’s been accused of merely loving to hear herself speak and hasn’t denied the allegations. so of all the auditions and opportunities she’s seized so far, this seems like the easiest. not only that, it seems like a wider net to cast, a chance to showcase her skills to not just one company, but to the five biggest idol companies in the country.

maybe that’s why, after countless tries, she feels nervous.

after handing over her completed form with her neat, round handwriting, she’s led toward a room that’s reminiscent of those used in documentaries or news segments. it feels pretty intimate, with the bright light and the sole camera, a set for two, and she tries to remind herself that this is something she’s done before, that talking about herself and her dreams and goals is as familiar to her as the humid subtropical weather of sydney.

this will be easy. this will be fun. it’s not like you’d be blowing a huge chance if you messed up right now, right?

with several deep breaths, she takes a seat, breathe in, breathe out, and she becomes so caught up in the calming exercise that she becomes completely deaf to the only other person in the room, the one person who holds her future in her hands. she isn’t sure how many times the interviewer has had to repeat herself, but she sounds pretty abrupt when she asks seola to introduce herself again.

“ah! sorry, sorry!” seola says finally, an apologetic smile on her lips and a nervous chuckle slipping past. she clears her throat, adjust herself in her seat, and takes one last breath. it’s showtime.

“my name is emily kim. my korean name is kim hyunjung, but i go by seola. i’m from sydney australia, and i’m a singer, dancer, and entertainer.” the words are coming easily even as her heart continues to pound in her chest. there’s a smile on her lips that’s genuine because despite the tingling sensation running throughout her body, she still loves talking about herself and presenting the best version of herself to anyone that will listen. “i’m twenty years old and currently attending k-arts in the music program.”

why do you want to be an idol?

she’s often asked herself the same question. is it enough that music is simply something that she loves to do? that the love of music has been instilled in her since the day she was born, that it’s practically written into her dna? in previous job interviews, she’d researched that simply loving whatever company you were interviewing for wasn’t enough, that you had to fluff them up, show an interest in the company, but when there were five potential companies and her not minding ending up at any of them, it’s hard to pick and choose what to say.

so, rather, she chooses honesty.

“i just love to perform,” she responds, a dreamy look on her face as she imagines being able to debut. “i love being up on a stage, showing off what all my years of learning and practicing have come to, that my hard work has paid off.”

she drifts off for a few seconds, listening to the imaginary cheers in her head, before sliding back into reality, feet planted firmly on the floor. “plus,” she adds with a cheeky smile. “i would love to buy my parents new cars. isn’t that something a lot of idols are doing these days?”

what are you strengths and weaknesses?

“singing...dancing...talking a lot...” the first three come easily as she counts them off on her fingers, but light laughter soon follows once she realizes how unprofessional the last one sounds. it’s always something she’s said when she’s asked what she’s good at, but it’s usually in a setting much less important than this. it’s already been said, however, so she rolls with the lightheartedness it’s already set up.

“i’m also pretty good at setting fire to anything i try to cook,” she continues, a faux pensive look on her face. “i just can’t seem to find out the right technique to utilizing a kitchen. if i told you i set fire to a bowl of cereal, would you believe me?”

“oh! and my dad would kill me if i forgot this, since he’s the one who taught me, but i also play a pretty mean guitar.”

with the more time she spends in that little room, the more she becomes comfortable. slowly, she returns to her usual, confident self, free from the weight of nerves or anxiety. still, talking about her weaknesses is uncomfortable for her, because she hates admitting that she has them.

“well,” she starts out, bearing down so she can just power through it. “i’m not great at rapping... and i’m also pretty stubborn. but my stubbornness can also be a strength because if i can’t get something right, then i’d just keep trying.” she pauses, a slow smile creeping onto her lips. “except rapping. i’ve come to terms that i’m pretty bad at that.”

you’ve chosen a stage name for yourself. why seola?

“seola was my grandmother’s name. she passed away before i was born, but my dad has always told me great stories about her.” she smiles to herself, memories of sitting and listening to her father flashing vividly in her mind. “they were always so wild. she’d run away from home in order to join a rock band. it never really worked out for her, but that spirit in her never faded. i guess i want her to help her dream come true in some way, even if it’s just in a name.”

who are your biggest influences?

“my parents, definitely,” she answers without hesitation. “my dad has always made sure music was a huge part of our lives. like his own mom, he was part of a band, pursued music, and even teaches at k-arts. he’s the one who taught me how to play guitar, and showed me that powerful women can succeed in the music industry. those women are some of my greatest influences, too, like pat benatar, tina turner, joan jett...”

“my mum was the one who pushed me toward singing,” she continues. “i started out with opera training before also being trained in pop singing. she’s also the one who put me into tap lessons, and tried to put me into ballet as well, but well, i...” laughter trickles past her lips as a fond smile forms on her face. “i pulled the old bait and switch. while she thought i was taking ballet lessons, i’d instead been doing hip-hop. by the time she found out, there wasn’t anything she could do, so she let me keep taking them.”

if you weren’t pursuing music, what would you be doing instead?

she glances at the clock briefly, notices time ticking down, so she’s fairly certain this is the final question. it’s a shame she can’t really find an answer to it, and as she watches the second hand continue to tick, she becomes nervous once more, and she throws an anxious smile at the interviewer as she blurts out whatever she can think of.

“i don’t know,” she says, regretting it immediately. but there’s nothing else she can say, because she really doesn’t know. “music and performing has been all i’ve known throughout my life. i can’t see myself doing anything else. this is where i want to be.” nervousness is replaced by steely determination as she nods her head once. “this where i’m supposed to be. and i’m not going to stop until i get to where i need to be.”

#starbright17audition #( awkward ending is awkward )#.;* monologue ;

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mrs-entwistle · 7 years

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1-154

1:Full name?I don’t feel comfortable putting my full name on the Internet, sorry!2:Age?21.3:3 Fears?Dying young/alone, insects, and heights. 😣4:3 things I love?Video games, Christmas, and antique stores! 5:4 turn ons?A bright mind, a kind heart, a good sense of humor, and beautiful blue eyes.6:4 turn offs?Rudeness/disrespect, no communication, lack of affection, and caring only about sex. 7:My best friend?Jeremy and my bf Stephen :’)8:Sexual orientation?Pansexual!9:My best first date?I honestly don’t even know? 10:How tall am I?About 5'2", I think.11:What do I miss?Stephen while he’s at work!12:What time was I born?I’m actually not 100% sure? I wanna say sometime around 6-7 am but I’m not positive.13:Favorite color?Blue! 💙14:Do I have a crush?Yes, on my boyfriend 😎15:Favorite quote?I’m never good at answering this question, I can never really think of any quotes 😅🙈16:Favorite place?Antique stores are guaranteed to be a favorite place of mine, no matter what. 17:Favorite food?Anything involving chicken and cheese, tbh. But my favorite treat is always brownies. 😍18:Do I use sarcasm?Quite heavily, yes 😂19:What am I listening to right now?Don’t Fear The Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult20:First thing I notice in new person?I tend to notice everything at once. I’m a quick judge of character and I’m very good at taking things in.21:Shoe size?6.22:Eye color?Brown.23:Hair color?Also brown!24:Favorite style of clothing?Anything that looks like it came directly from Stevie Nicks or Marc Bolan. 😎 I love ‘60s and '70s-esque clothing. It’s the best!25:Kiss someone that starts with the letter “R”?Nope. 27:Meaning behind my URL?I’m John Entwistle’s wife 😘28:Kiss someone that starts with the letter “M”?Nope again.29:Favorite song?That’s waaaaaay too hard of a question, my dude. 😂 Anything by The Who, I’ll just say that.30:Favorite band?The Who, for sure 🤗❤️31:How I feel right now?Very nice! I’m super cozy and content and quite happy. :’) 32:Someone I love?Stephen 😊33:My current relationship status?In a relationship 🌈💕34:My relationship with my parentsMy relationship with my mom is great, we’re as close as can be- but I essentially have no relationship at all with my dad. 35:Favorite holiday?Halloween and Christmas are tied, I can’t pick between them. 😎🎃🎄36:Tattoos and piercing I have?None at all.37:Tattoos and piercing I want?I want a little crescent moon tattoo for sure, and maybe a tiny feather as well.38:The reason I joined Tumblr?It was in 2012 when I was going through an extremely tough time and I had started homeschooling due to an unfortunate decline in my health. I lost all my friends at school and was looking for a way to meet new people with similar interests and occupy my time. 39:Do I and my last ex hate each other?Hate is a strong word. I don’t think he hates me, and I don’t hate him. But I don’t have anything good to say about him though; I’m pretty bitter about how things ended. 40:Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?Whenever I’m not physically with my bf, he always sends me those and vice versa. :’)41:Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?Noooo, lmao.42:When did I last hold hands?Yesterday. 43:How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?Lmaoooo oh boy. It tends to take me at least an hour and a half to two hours. 😅😂🙈44:Have you shaved your legs in the past three days?Yeah.45:Where am I right now?On Stephen’s couch with one of his sisters while she helps assist me on a difficult part of BOTW 😂46:If I were drunk and can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?Probably Stephen m and his family, honestly.47:Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?Depends on how I’m feeling, but usually I prefer it loud. B)48:Do I live with my Mom and Dad?I live with my mom. But as of lately, more than half of the time I’ve been staying with Stephen and his family. 😌💕49:Am I excited for anything?My future. :’) 50:Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?Yes! A couple people.51:How often do I wear a fake smile?I try not to, but I do sometimes.52:When was the last time I hugged someone?Early this morning. 53:What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?I would be more than devastated. But I don’t need to worry about that because that would never happen.54:Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?Probably… 55:What is something I disliked about today?My day has just begun, so nothing yet!56:If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?John Entwistle, even though he isn’t alive anymore. 57:What do I think about most?Stephen and our future. 58:What’s my strangest talent?My excellent impressions. 59:Do I have any strange phobias?I have a phobia of ants that most people think is strange and “funny”.60:Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?I am fine with either, actually. I love being the subject and also the photographer. I don’t have a preference. 😁61:What was the last lie I told?Probably that I’m fine. 62:Do I perfer talking on the phone or video chatting online?Depends on the person! Probably talking on the phone, though. 63:Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?I 100% believe in ghosts. And I love to ponder the idea of aliens, but I’m not 100% sold on the idea. I love reading about the concept of them though. 64:Do I believe in magic?Nah. 65:Do I believe in luck?Sort of!66:What’s the weather like right now?Sunny as FUCK I hate Florida lmao67:What was the last book I’ve read?Gyo by Junji Ito 68:Do I like the smell of gasoline?Yessss, it’s gr8 👌🏼69:Do I have any nicknames?Everybody calls me Kait. And Stephen has a bunch of personal nicknames for me 😊70:What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?A fractured ankle, I’d say.71:Do I spend money or save it?I definitely spend it….. 😅72:Can I touch my nose with a tongue?Nope, I can’t.73:Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me? I don’t think so :o74:Favorite animal?Cats and bats and red pandas 😎75:What was I doing last night at 12 AM?Cuddling with Stephen.76:What do I think is Satan’s last name is?Trump LOL77:What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?Kokomo by The Beach Boys78:How can you win my heart?You can’t, it’s already won 😘79:What would I want to be written on my tombstone?“She has returned to the cosmos from whence she came” 80:What is my favorite word?Groovy.81:My top 5 blogs on Tumblr?I don’t wanna list just 5 because I love so many blogs, and I don’t like playing favorites 😭82:If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?Something rambly about peace, I’m sure.83:Do I have any relatives in jail?Not that I know of!84:I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?Probably invisibility.85:What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?I’m actually not sure? I’m openly honest about most things but I would probably be afraid to discuss my sexual ventures with my family if they were to ask, for example… 😅86:What is my current desktop picture?I don’t have an actual computer but my background on my iPad is a picture of John Entwistle smiling, and my background on my phone is a photo of me and Stephen at the beach that my mom took of us.87:Had sex?Yes.88:Bought condoms?Also yes.89:Gotten pregnant?Definitely not!90:Failed a class?Yes lmao 😅91:Kissed a boy?Yessss.92:Kissed a girl?Nope.93:Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?Not yet!94:Had job?Yes. 95:Left the house without my wallet?Many times, lmao.96:Bullied someone on the internet?When I was very young; it’s not something I’m proud of. 97:Had sex in public?Nooooo, lmao.98:Played on a sports team?When I was in school, yes- the basketball team 😎99:Smoked weed?Nope.100:Did drugs?Also nope.101:Smoked cigarettes?Yeah.102:Drank alcohol?Mhm. 103:Am I a vegetarian/vegan?No I’m not. 104:Been overweight?Not really? Maybe a little when I was a preteen.105:Been underweight?Nah.106:Been to a wedding?Yes!107:Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?Most likely LOL.108:Watched TV for 5 hours straight?Also definitely a yes, especially in the past when I’ve been sick.109:Been outside my home country?Not yet!110:Gotten my heart broken?Many times.111:Been to a professional sports game?I think so?112:Broken a bone?Nah.113:Cut myself?Yes.114:Been to prom?No.115:Been in airplane?Not yet, I’m kinda scared to. 😅116:Fly by helicopter?Also no 😅117:What concerts have I been to?Art Garfunkel twice, Paul McCartney three times, The Who, The Beach Boys two or three times, Brian Wilson twice, Air Supply, Joan Jett (she opened for The Who), Ringo Starr twice, The Monkees, a Led Zeppelin tribute band, a Beatles tribute band a few times, Stevie Nicks, and I’m seeing Paul Simon in a few months 😎118:Had a crush on someone of the same sex?Yes lmao119:Learned another language?Yes!120:Wore make up?Also yes.121:Lost my virginity before I was 18?Nope. 122:Had oral sex?Yesss 👌🏼123:Dyed my hair?I used to dye it black for a few years. 124:Voted in a presidential election? No, actually.125:Rode in an ambulance?Yes :(126:Had a surgery?Thankfully not.127:Met someone famous?Yes, Ringo Starr 😎🌟128:Stalked someone on a social network?I think everyone has at some point to some extent 😅129:Peed outside?Lmao no 😂130:Been fishing?Actually, I have not!131:Helped with charity?Yes.132:Been rejected by a crush?So many times lmao 133:Broken a mirror?Accidentally! 134:What do I want for my birthday?I actually am not sure tbh? I haven’t really thought about it…as long as I get to spend it with the people I love, I’m happy :’) 135:How many kids do I want and what will be their names?At least one or two, but I haven’t thought of names, really 😌136:Was I named after anyone?My middle name is in honor of my great grandma.137:Do I like my handwriting?Yes, it’s decent sometimes! 138:What was my favorite toy as a child? Nintendo 64 LMAO I have always loved it 😎139:Favorite TV show?That '70s Show and Always Sunny.140:Where do I want to live when older?I dunno, wherever my life takes me! It would be rad to live in England though 😎141:Play any musical instrument?Sadly not, lmao.142:One of my scars, how did I get it?I fell down onto the driveway when I was little and scraped my elbow and the scar is still visible. 143:Favorite pizza toping?Pineapple ;;;;;;)144:Am I afraid of the dark?Nah.145:Am I afraid of heights?Oh yes, absolutely 😅146:Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?Lmaooooo kinda? 😂147:Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?Yup, happens all the time.148:What I’m really bad at?Living 😅149:What my greatest achievments are?Getting my art to Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey tbh 150:The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me?People say mean shit to me often, I don’t know what the worst thing has been though honestly 😅🙈151:What I’d do if I won the lottery?I would grab Stephen and my family and go shoppin 💃🏻152:What do I like about myself? I like my artistic talents and capabilities and I especially like my fashion sense and music taste 😎153:My closest Tumblr friend?Jeremy 😁154:Something I fantasise about?My future, yo! ✨

Thanks v much!!! This took awhile 😅💕

#about me #long post

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