#*presenter voice*: and now back to your regularly scheduled programming

[lainiespicewrites]

Needing some attention

Hello all! Just a little sherlock one shot that was cooking up in my head! God I love that man!! I promise We'll get back to the regularly scheduled program soon! I PROMISE!!!

Summary: Sherlock is busy with work, and you try your best to stay out of his way but you can be quite fussy when you want his attention.

Warnings: Cursing. Sex MDNI, P in V sex. Fingering, Multiple Orgasms. Creampie. Unprotected sex. dirty talk. Sherlock being painfully handsome! Soft Dom sherlock

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entranced, yes that was the word. I was fully entranced just watching from the doorway. The bright morning sun streams through the window of the study, casting a warm glow around him as he works. His features are almost angelic, of course; truly, he was anything but. The thought causes a soft giggle to escape my lips.

“If you were trying to be discreet, you’ve blown your cover,” he says, his voice low, smooth, and calm. There’s an ever-present smirk on his face. Throughout the whole interaction, he never once looks up from his desk. Another giggle escaped me, and I took a few steps into the study. 

“Not sneaking, simply admiring.” I smile. “You’ve been working at this one for quite some time,” I tell him. I walk over to his desk, standing behind him, my hands gently resting on his large shoulders. His smirk grows wider, and he hums softly. I feel myself gasp as the detective captures one of my hands from his shoulders and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm.

“Yes,” He says, his voice steady and strong. “And still much more work to do. I don’t want to keep you cooped up in here watching me go mad. It’s a beautiful day, darling. Why don’t you go take in some of that lovely sunshine we’ve been blessed with, and I’ll work on finishing up here.” I bite my lip, my eyebrow raised in question, but I hold back my protest. Sherlock is a busy man. I’ve always known that. He never blatantly tries to ignore me or keep me otherwise occupied. So I nod, giving him a soft smile. I lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Okay, my love, please try not to go too crazy, will you?” I giggle. The request earns me a chuckle, and he looks up briefly to meet my gaze as I move to leave his study. 

“I shall do my best, my darling.” He says before turning back to his work, leaving me alone again with my thoughts. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right; as always, I shouldn’t waste away in this flat waiting for him to finish his work. 

So I do head out to town for a while. I walk the streets of downtown London in the warm spring air, breathing life into me. I stop at the market to see what fresh flowers they’ve got. Baker Street could certainly use a touch of color, and I know Sherlock won’t mind. After picking out a few bunches, my basket full of florals, herbs, and a few baked goods, I make my way back to the flat. It’s late afternoon now. I busy myself arranging the flowers in vases and putting away my other goods. 

I still haven’t heard a sound from Sherlock. Peeking my head into his study, I see he’s still right where I left him. I sighed and shook my head. With nothing better to do I join him in his study. I scan his shelves for something to read, it’s been one of our favorite ways to spend quiet time together lately. Lying together in the garden, reading our respective stories. I look over at him again; still lost in his work, he’s probably barely even noticed my presence. Finding a story that is a particular favorite of mine I curl up on the chaise and open the book. 

This may not have been nearly as good an idea as I’d thought. Since I woke this morning, I’ve been craving Sherlock's affections. Sitting so close now, only to be ignored and left unnoticed, has only annoyed me. I let out a huff, sitting up and looking over at his desk… nothing. I sigh and turn back to my book. I lie back, settling in again, struggling to get comfortable. Another hour passes. Or at least it feels like an hour. I suppose I can’t be sure. And I feel as if I’m going to go insane. I let out a groan of frustration.

“Not enjoying the story?” He asked, a smirk on his lips. He’s far too smart to believe that is the source of my plight. I pull back from my book far enough for him to see me roll my eyes, and he chuckles. “I do so love watching you squirm.” He says with a dark glint in his eye. And finally, he lays down his pen and slams his book shut. I raise an eyebrow at him, not daring to speak a word, but my eyes are full of challenge. 

“I was hoping to spend a nice relaxing evening with you, my darling,” he teases. “But seem’s you needs an attitude adjustment.” He’s standing behind me, his breath hot on my ear as he purrs. “Am I going to have to fuck it out of you darling? Or are you going to apologize for being so bratty and impatient?” My mouth goes dry, and my body is suddenly on fire. 

“S-sherlock.” I gasp. “I- my love, I didn’t intend to … I-” I stutter, trying to find the words, but it seems all competent thoughts have left me. This is just how he wants me. This is exactly what I meant, Sherlock is no angel. He likes to play dirty. Make me flustered and shy and needy. He won’t stop until I’m begging. Nothing gives him more pleasure than making me tell him all the dirty things I’d love him to do to me. All it takes is a look, and he has me melting. And as annoyed with him as I am for turning me into a brainless, incompetent, desperate woman. He knows this is exactly what I’ve been needing all day. 

He chuckles and steps around the sofa, standing in front of me. He takes the book from my hands, tossing it to the side. He leans over me, a primal look in his eye as his knee gently parts my thighs and he hovers over me on the sofa. 

“What didn’t you intend to do, my love? Hmm? Did you not intend to huff and pout for my attention? Is that it?” He smirks, nipping playfully at my ear as he chuckles darkly.  “You just forgot your words, didn’t you darling, just forgot how to ask properly. It’s alright, my sweet. I’ll remind you.” He purrs his lips trailing down my jaw and neck as his tongue traces my collar bone. 

“I’m sorry, my love.” I pant, my chest heaving. Instinctively, I tilt my head back to allow him better access. He lets out a feral growl, and his hands squeeze my hips possessively as he starts to explore my body with his touch. 

“Oh, I know you are my sweet. And I’m going to give you the attention you so badly need.” He smirks, his hands slide under my skirt gripping my thighs, a low growl escaping him as he kisses my neck. I let out a soft needy moan my body arching into his my thighs naturally spreading to make room for him. He chuckles his breath tickling my skin where he’s biting at my collarbone. 

“Still so impatient; you haven’t learned your lesson, have you my darling?” he cradles my face in his hands, kissing me passionately. His tongue explored my mouth as we kissed. When he pulls back, he grabs my wrist, nearly dragging me off the chaise. Before I can begin to fall, he catches me, holding me against his chest. “Now what should I do with you?” He purrs. I look up at him, my eyes blown wide with lust and desire. 

“Sherlock, please,” I begged, my voice weak and pathetic. He lets out a low growl that I can feel deep in his chest. He grabs me around the waist, picking me up he holds me tightly with one arm as the other sweeps the papers from his desk.  He sets me down and steps between my parted thighs.

“Please what, my love? Hmm?  Ask for what you want darling.” He teases his hand, slowly creeping up my thigh again. his fingers graze the fabric of my panties, and my breath hitches. 

“I-I can’t.” I blush, biting my lip. Sherlock chuckles his other hand gripping my chin to make me look at him. 

“Yes, you can, sweetheart. You’ve had those filthy little desires playing in your head all day. And I want to hear every detail,” he growls. My breath catches in my throat as I hold his gaze. 

“T-touch me,” I beg and grab his wrist, pressing his fingers more firmly against my core. “Here, please,” I whine. Sherlock lets out another low growl, capturing my lips in a searing kiss as he starts to slowly rub me through my panties. I whimper and arch into his body. 

“So wet already. You’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” He smirks, and finally, he slips his fingers beneath the fabric of my panties, pushing two inside me, curling them as he starts to pump them in and out. I let out a desperate mewl, my hips moving, grinding on his hand. He moves his thumb to rub circles on my clit. He smirks as he watches my face contort with pleasure.  “That’s it, my love. So beautiful when you’re like this. So desprate for my affection. He adds a third finger and pumps them faster, curling them just right so I’m seeing starts. My hands come up to clutch his shirt, my thighs shaking and head falling back, letting out a needy moan. My walls clamp around his fingers gushing on his hand. 

“Oh sherlock!” I whimper, panting as I come down from my orgasm. 

“That was beautiful sweetheart,” He smiles, kissing me tenderly. “We’re far from done. You know that, don’t you?” he teases. I giggle, nodding shyly. Without further preamble, he tears open my blouse, his eyes raking over me hungrily. He tears off his own shirt, tossing it aside, and cups my face, kissing me passionately. He gently pushes me back, laying me back on the desk, his lips trailing down my body. He stops when he gets to my breasts squeezing them softly and leaning down to capture my nipple in his mouth sucking and flicking with his tongue. I moan loudly, my back arching, pushing my breast further against his mouth. 

He groans sucking soflty and then swithing to give attention to the other breasts. He shoves up my skirt, bunching it around my waist, and then fumbles with his zipper. 

“I can’t wait be inside you,” He moans. I gasp as I feel the thick head of his cock brush through my folds

“My love, please, I need to feel you filling me. Make me whole.” I beg. With a feral growl, he surges forward, sheathing himself inside my tight heat. He lets out a groan, giving me only a moment to adjust before he sets a punishing pace. 

“Fuck,” He moans. “You’re so tight, so perfect, darling. Is this what you needed, my sweet? To be filled and taken. Reminded who you belong to?” I nod and let out a breathy moan. He pulls my leg up around his hip and drives into me deeper. The angle allows him to hit that perfect spot deep within me. My eyes roll back, and I feel myself climbing to my high. 

“My perfect girl,” sherlock praises his as he brings his thumb between us to rub my clit. My body shakes beneath him as he captures my lips in another searing kiss.” Thats it, my love. Let go,” he coos. “Let me feel all your pent up desire and love as you cum for me.” he encourages. I feel my pussy spasming on his cock and he growls “Good girl,” With those words I tumble over the edge my toes curling my head falling back gushing on his cock as my body trembles with pleasure. 

“Sherlock!” I cry out as my orgasm crashes over me and he fucks me through it. I feel his hips start to falter and he takes my hand pinning my wrists to the desk as he fucks me, his breathing ragged as he lets out a string of incoheart praises. 

“Yes,.. fuck.. You’re perfect, my love. Gonna fill you with my seed… such a good girl for me. Take it all, darling.” He growls in my ear, his body going stiff as he releases inside me. His hips jerk softly as he works himself through his orgasm. 

We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies connected and whole. With a soft groan, Sherlock stands and slowly pulls out of me. He takes my hand, helping me sit up on the desk. He cups my face and peppers it with kisses, pulling back and searching my face for any sign of discomfort. “Are you alright, my love?” He asked, his voice soft and tender. I nod a satisfied smile on my lips.

“Yes darling, I’m perfect.” I giggle. “I am sorry for being such a brat when I’m being needy.” I blush, ducking my head to tuck myself against his chest. Sherlock chuckles. 

“I know you are, my sweet. the truth is.” He says with a slight smirk in his voice. “I quite enjoy it, I was finished with my work hours ago. But I do so enjoy watching you squirm.” He winks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs are always welcome!! Tag list

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[winterscaptain]

burn.

Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: welcome back to our regularly scheduled programming after several delays--I've decided to post this before the sideblog is ready because you've all been so patient!

words: 1.7k content advisories: PINING. so much pining its painful

summary: "you forget what you want to remember, and you remember what you want to forget." —cormac mccarthy. december 24th–26th, 2010

ajf masterlist (under construction) | sideblog under construction | what do you want to see next?

The party ends like all the best ones do—slowly, reluctantly, and with too many hugs at the door.

Penelope’s glitter trail fades down the hallway. Emily’s SUV engine kicks over just as Dave mutters something about Italian wine being better than Italian judgment.

You’re still holding your mug.

You should’ve left twenty minutes ago. Spencer caught your eye on the way out and gave you a look—not teasing, just curious. Like he wasn’t sure why you hadn’t moved yet.

The apartment is warm in the way lived-in spaces get after too many bodies and too much sugar. The tree glows soft and quiet. A few stray snowflake crafts litter the coffee table, evidence of Jack’s brief cameo before Jess picked him up for a Brooks-side thing.

You and Aaron are alone now.

He’s in the kitchen, rinsing the same glass twice. You’re in the doorway, trying not to overthink the fact that you’re still here.

“Thanks for hosting,” you say, just because it’s something to say.

He nods. “Sure.”

“Everyone seemed happy,” you offer, like it matters.

Aaron hums. Noncommittal.

He doesn’t have to tell you this is his second Christmas without Haley.

He doesn’t have to tell you the first one didn’t feel real. That last year, he didn’t decorate. Didn’t cook. Didn’t breathe, really. He spent the morning letting Jack unwrap presents and the evening staring at the bottom of a glass.

He didn’t feel the weight of it until this year.

Until the tree was up again. Until Jack drew a family picture and only drew two people. Until he realized how deeply silence cuts when you’ve survived chaos. Until he realized he didn’t know where Haley ordered the Christmas cards. 

You shift your weight on the kitchen tile.

Aaron folds the towel with unnecessary precision. His hands are steady, but his pulse is loud in his ears.

“You’re not staying over tonight?” It comes out sharper than he means. Less invitation, more... alarm.

You blink. “Should I?” Your voice is soft, teasing, maybe. He can’t tell.

His gaze dips to your mouth before he can stop it.

Don’t.

His eyes flick back up to yours. “I just thought maybe you had somewhere else to be.”

“Tomorrow, maybe,” you say. He gets the acute sense you’re hedging your bets. “Not tonight.”

He nods.

You step away first. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

Aaron doesn’t stop you. Not right away. But then—

“Stay.”

You stop. Half-turned. He sees your shoulders lift, slow and uncertain.

“You don’t have to,” he adds quickly. “I just—don’t want you to go if you don’t want to.”

Your mouth tips up at the corner. Not quite a smile. Not quite relief.

“Okay.”

+++

He doesn’t breathe until you sit beside him on the couch.

The movie is some forgettable holiday comedy. You’re not watching it.

The lights are off.

Except for the tree.

Tiny bulbs blink lazily across the living room—reds, golds, soft white stars casting a sleepy glow over everything. They reflect off the glass ornaments, scattering glimmers of color onto the ceiling, the walls, the blanket pooled over both of your legs. The room smells like pine, like clove-studded oranges, like a home that’s been lived in, like the candle burning on the coffee table.

Neither one of you has spoken in a while.

Your head is on his shoulder, your legs tucked under the afghan, one of his hands resting over your shin—absentminded, not possessive. Just there. His thumb moves in soft, unconscious circles. You can feel the way his breathing changes with yours, how still he goes every time you shift. You could swear he’s holding himself together with duct tape and hope.

And you’re not doing much better.

“I used to think,” you start, your voice barely more than a breath, ���that Christmas would always feel like it did when I was little.”

Aaron’s head tilts, not enough to look at you. Just to show he’s listening.

“Not the presents. Not even the family part. Just that feeling—like the world was softer. Like it could pause for a second.” You smile a little. “Now it just feels like we’re holding our breath.”

A beat.

“Maybe we are,” he says. 

You glance up. The tree lights catch his profile. His eyes are on the window, not the TV, but you don’t think he’s looking at anything out there.

The light catches the scar on his nose, the one Foyet gave him. There’s another, fainter one under his chin—childhood bike accident, if you remember correctly.

You should say something. Ask if he’s okay. Ask what he meant. You look away. 

Instead, you reach down and tug the blanket tighter over both your legs. His hand settles back over your shin like it never left.

He’s so warm. Stupidly warm. His shoulder is firm beneath your cheek, and his sweatshirt smells like him. You want to tuck yourself closer. You want to crawl inside the space between his ribs and stay there until January.

You don’t look at him on purpose, but you do. He’s already looking at you.

The breath catches in your throat. His eyes are soft. Quiet. But they’re searching.

You shift.

You hear the subtle change in his breathing. Feel the way his whole body goes still.

It’s comforting.

It’s also unbearable.

You see his pulse thrum at his throat. Quick. Hard.

You’re a profiler. You know what adrenaline looks like.

Aaron can feel your breath against his neck. The scent of your shampoo. The weight of your body leaning into his like you were made to fit there.

There’s a fraction of a second where you’re both leaning in. You don’t know who starts it. You’ll never know. But you do know what stops it.

Fear.

Not the kind you’re trained for. Not knives-in-the-dark fear. Not even heartbreak.

This is worse.

This is the fear of breaking what you already have. The fear of crossing into something so big you can’t get it back. The fear that one kiss could end it all, or change it so irrevocably that nothing is safe anymore. That there’s no room to pretend it’s platonic. No way to wake up tomorrow and call it anything less than what it is.

Your lips part.

So do his.

You both lean in. Barely.

And then—

You duck.

Not far. Just enough to hide in his chest.

His breath halts. But his arm comes around you without hesitation. He tucks you close, chin on your head. Protective. Resigned. Maybe relieved. 

You don’t speak.

Fuck. 

+++

You wake up to the smell of cinnamon and the distant sound of clinking kitchenware.

When you get up, you splash water on your face and brush your teeth in Jack’s bathroom—your toothbrush has its own cup now (you try not to think too hard about that). There’s a cup of coffee waiting for you on the counter—already poured, just the way you like it, and still hot.

Aaron doesn’t say a word when you walk in.

Jack’s back from Roy and Kathleen’s , tearing into a new Lego set on the living room floor.

You sit beside him, bare feet on the carpet. Aaron takes the armchair. Not the couch. Not beside you.

Jack talks enough for all three of you.

You laugh once at something he says—short, bright. Aaron looks up at the sound. You meet his eyes. For a fraction of a second, it cracks something open.

He looks away first. You get the acute sense that he’s not purposefully icing you out.

He’s just protecting himself. 

His self-preservation instincts have always been better than yours. 

The day goes on. Wrapping paper piles up. Coffee cools. Aaron reads the instructions while Jack builds.

You fold the blanket before you leave. Smooth it. Set it on the back of the couch like it wasn’t the scene of a slow-motion undoing.

Aaron watches you do it.

You both pretend it’s just a blanket.

+++

On Boxing Day (a holiday Penelope insists on honoring despite its unpatriotic British origins) Dave’s house smells like rosemary and caramelized onions and something else vaguely Italian that Dave refuses to name until dinner is served. 

Spencer sits cross-legged on the floor helping his godson with a puzzle. Henry’s doing his best and to Spencer’s credit, he narrates his every move (for language development, of course). 

Penelope is making spiked hot chocolate for everyone but insists it’s ‘medicinal’, and Emily is on her third glass of wine and definitely snooping through Dave’s record collection, crouched by the cabinet. JJ loosely supervises, watching Spencer and Henry on the floor with a soft look on her face. Will’s on duty today. You all promised to set aside a plate for him. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the couch, laughing at something Derek said but not really hearing it. Jack is curled into your side, showing you the Lego starship he and Aaron finished that morning.

It’s loud. Warm. Safe.

It’s the perfect place to hide.

Aaron hasn’t spoken to you since he handed you coffee yesterday morning.

He hasn’t not spoken to you either.

Which is worse.

You’re good at playing normal. You’ve had years of practice. But every time you move, your senses stretch for him. And every time you look over—he’s already watching you.

Never long enough to call it staring. Always just a second too short to make you sure.

Jack shifts in your lap. You adjust him automatically, arms tightening around his middle. He’s warm. His hair smells like cinnamon. When he looks up at you, he’s grinning.

“Wanna see the secret compartment?”

You smile back, genuine. “Obviously.”

Aaron’s watching.

You know he is.

You don’t look at him.

Later, when the kids have bundled up and play outside in the yard, you’re still sitting on the couch, doing your best to slouch and relax without thinking too much about it.

You feel him before you hear him.

He sits beside you, not quite close enough to touch.

Neither one of you says anything.

You think, for a second, he might speak. That he might say thank you for staying. Or I didn’t mean to— or I wanted to—

But he doesn’t.

He just exhales.

So do you.

The front door creaks open. The kids come back in, tracking snow and laughter. Noise floods the room.

[kajetan563]

Fentanyl

I fell hard on the Guard Dog AU and I couldn't help but write a 2500-word one-shot about tending to wounds after a challenging fight. There might be inaccuracies since I'm not proficient with medicine.

Anyway, the AU is originally made by @driftingmoonmenace, so give them credit. And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

The last Cage Fight was very rough one. 

The latest opponent that your creature faced off was what you could describe it as an aggressive tank. 

You still can't shake off the image of an organic creature that's disguised by metallic shell and mechanical components. 

A lot of blood was spilled from your creature and theirs. You had to force a timeout to revise your strategy and focus on blunt hits. 

Eventually, you won. But not without serious damage to your creature. You can't imagine how much money is going to be spent to treat those injuries. 

Stop. It's already over. 

You shake your head as you descend the familiar grated stairs. You've been through this many times. No point moping around. You got a job to do. 

You eventually reached the room that housed your creature. Your only friend. 

You could've asked the vets to do their work, but you didn't. You didn't entirely trust their intentions. 

Why bother? It's already too late to save it. 

But it’s not that you couldn't try to fix your creature. You were the only person it could trust. 

The loud blaring alarm shakes off your thoughts as your focus on the present. The reinforced bay door opened, but your creature didn't show up. 

You set foot onto the grates that overlooks the chamber where it houses your creature. 

And the sight isn't pretty. 

It made no effort to notice you. It laid on its back and it was sprawled across the floor, clutching the worst of the injuries. 

The amount and the severity of its injuries made you wince. It's clearly suffering from the agony that it received. 

Look at it. You did this. 

There was a reason why you brought a medical bag you "borrowed". And you intended to do it. 

You walked to the platform that lowered you until you were in the ground level with the creature. 

When you made a slow and deliberate approach, the creature notices you and turns its head to look in its mismatched red and white eyes. There was no other effort from your friend and the expression was somber. 

Don't. Don't fall for it. 

You let out a sign that signifies a pained expression. Your voice, filled with heartaching sadness spilled out the words, "Hey there, Sweets." 

Fuck. 

Not again. 

"The fight with Iron Turtle was a rough one, eh?" You continue. That one was a real challenge, but you prevailed. 

Sure, the winnings were in the hundreds of thousands, but expenses gotta come one day or another. 

Most of it isn't for you to keep. 

Making a few more steps, you lay down the bag and open the zipper to reveal the contents; bandages, ointments, splints, opiates, the standard stuff for organic beings. 

As you pull out the necessary tools for treatment, you spoke again with regret, "Sorry, but I'll have to do this." 

Sure, you weren't a medic, but you had enough medical knowledge to know what you’re doing. 

With bandages, ointments, sutures, saline, biofoam, tweezers and opiates at ready, you begin to assess the damage your friend sustained. 

And it was not looking good. The creature seemed to be stable but looks can be deceiving. 

There was a wide myriad of cuts and bruises all over the creature's body. Those can be healed with ointment, no big deal. 

The more serious lacerations and punctures require more tools. Painkillers were required to numb the pain, saline to clean the wound, tweezers to remove shrapnel and foreign objects, biofoam to quickly mend the damaged tissue and sutures to seal the wound shut. 

But the most severe wound was on the abdomen of your creature. It was still clutching it, as if it didn't want to let its guts spill all over. You weren't sure if your creature had insides. You better not find out. 

From your observation, the tissue damage was pretty much extensive, and the wound was deep. Severe was putting it mildly. It was ugly as sin. The area around the laceration was full of dirt, grime and dried blood. It was clearly filthy. Within the injury were dozen, if not several dozen pieces of metal shrapnel that stuck out like sore thumbs. You mind flashed back to when the opposing creature struck your creature with its heavily damaged arm that you could’ve sworn saw metal bits fly out by the sheer force of the attack. 

Are you sure it's still salvageable? 

You took a deep breath and spoke "Sweetie, I'm gonna try to treat you to the best of my ability, okay?" 

It nods in acknowledgement and shifts its arms so that it wouldn't disturb your work. 

Your medical gloves were already on your hands. Already got them out of the bag. 

Seems like the bleeding has slowed enough for you to start treatment. Did it apply pressure for all that time? No matter, at least there's less work for you. 

You open a painkiller kit and look at the selection of vials. There are mostly opiates that helps relieve pain, but there was an antagonist to reduce the dosage of opium and naltrexone to prevent any potential addictions. It also comes with a jet injector. 

You pull out the jet injector and a vial next to the antagonist. You didn't recognize this and so you wanted to make sure you’re not using something weak by reading the label. 

[Fentanyl – Warning: High concentration of opium] 

Fentanyl... you heard that this drug is at least a hundred times stronger than morphine. And judging by the severity of the laceration on the abdomen, you'll definitely gonna need it. 

You insert the vial to the jet injector and fill the container with the drug. You reckon that one shot of that would be enough. Once you bring the nozzle to its skin you break the silence by saying "Bear with me, it's going to sting a little." 

Once that's said, you pulled the trigger of the injector, and the fluid was dumped instantly. What immediately followed was a flinch, but it wasn't enough to damage the tissue further nor provoke more bleeding. 

You sigh in relief knowing that no incident happened so far. You put away the injector and grab absorbent gauze then sterilize it with saline. 

Why are you doing this? Leave it. 

You carefully wipe off the grime that surrounds the laceration, being careful not to touch any muscle fibers. The wincing from the creature pauses your action, which may you say, "I know, it hurts. But trust me, you're gonna feel a lot better after this." 

Thankfully, no further incident occurred while you cleaned the area. But honestly, you were a bit of a perfectionist. You didn't want it just clean. You wanted it completely clean. And that effort took you three replacements of gauze and quite a bit of saline. 

Once that's done, you moved on to take care of those obstructions stuck within the wound. You prepare the tweezers and a biohazard bag as you think on where to start. 

You bend your knees and glance towards the creature’s right loin. This is where you'll start. The amount of shrapnel should be even, but it will definitely ramp up the closer you are to the other side. 

"I'm gonna start, okay?" You break the silence to let your creature know about the painful part. 

It's not going to help anyway. 

With the tweezers in hand, you start to carefully extract the metal shards from the wound, making sure you don't damage the tissue further or provoke more bleeding. Each piece of shrapnel you remove is responded with a flinch. It is what it is... 

As you make your way towards the abdomen, more foreign objects are deposited into the biohazard bag. One piece dug in deep into the wound, and so you had to take extra time to get it out. 

By the time you reach the umbilical region, you started to lean in to continue extracting shrapnel. So far you collected roughly thirty pieces of shrapnel, a pretty big amount. Sometimes, you were struggling a bit to get some pieces out and had to tug them to loosen them. 

Once you reached the left lumbar region, you were leaning so much that your creature had to use a clean right hand to hold you stable. Its grip was tight, but not too tight to penetrate your skin. 

Why are you asking for its help? 

You were on your last pieces when your knees started to hurt. You've been removing shrapnel from the wound for about ten minutes. 

Eventually, the number of obstructions was reduced to one. The piece on the other side of the laceration have dug deep into the wound, and you couldn't go to the other side, because you didn't want to risk collapsing into the creature's wounded body and contaminate yourself. 

You outstretch your arm that's holding the tweezers and lean in to reach for the piece of metal that's embedded into the tissue. It takes you a few misses, buy you were able to grab the foreign object. 

From there, you started tugging the piece of metal in order to ever so slightly tug it out without damaging the tissue further. It took more than a minute, but you were able to extract it. 

With a sigh of relief, you stood to your full height and deposited the last object into the biohazard bag. There are around seventy-five in total. "Now you don't have to sorry about the spikes in pain." You respond. 

You set aside the bag and put away the tweezers. From there, you open the tissue repair kit and pull out one of the biofoam bottles. You read the label to make sure. 

[Medical-Grade Biofoam – Promotes tissue healing and prevents bacterial infection] 

You pull off the cap of the bottle and point the nozzle towards the edge of the laceration on the right shin. Before you start, you say with caution "This is gonna hurt, okay? I'm gonna start."

It nods in acknowledgement as it braces for the incoming aching. 

You apply the first of the biofoam directly to the wound. Immediately, the foam triggers a reaction that quickly expands. It seals any bleeding still not stabilized and releases compounds that disinfects the damaged tissue. Shortly after, the foam sets and becomes a semi-rigid, porous mass, which accelerates the healing of damaged tissue and muscle. 

You momentarily stop to check if the creature's okay. Apparently, it didn’t feel anything yet, so you're still good. 

You continue squirting out the biofoam along the damaged tissue and work your way towards the far end of the injury. On some occasions, you had to stop because of the wincing. "Yeah, I know." you replied with worry laced in your voice. 

Stop it. 

Once the last of the damaged tissue is mended, you expended most of the bottle but can still use it on some wounds. 

With tissue damage taken care of, you set aside the biofoam and open the sealing kit. Since the wound is too wide and too deep to close with staples, you had to grab the biodegradable sutures. 

You start closing the wound by making deep sutures. That way, it'll make closing the epidermal layer of the wound easier. You knew that it’s going to take long. You're in too deep to back down. 

It took you about 10 minutes to get the deep sutures done. You settle for a continuous over and under stitch and start stitching the wound from the left loin and work your way towards left lumbar region of the creature’s abdomen. 

The process took you another ten minutes to complete. Once that's done, you disinfect the wound with an antibiotic gel to kill of any bacteria that reside within the surface of the wound. 

Finally, you bandage the wound thoroughly and secure the dressing with medical tape. 

The abdomen injury has been treated, but it's not over yet. You still got several more littered across the creature's body. This is gonna take a while. 

You repeat the procedure for the other wounds that need urgent treatment. There wasn't as much tissue damage or shrapnel, and you only had to use the standard Morphine. Since the wounds weren't as deep as the one on the abdomen, you only needed one layer of sutures, but you decided to use the medical stapler for that. 

It took you noticeably less time since the injuries weren't as severe as before, but the combined time taken was comparable to the one that you treated on the abdomen. 

Once the last open wound was treated and bandaged, you move on to the minor cuts and bruises that litter your creature. 

There were all over its body, so you needed a lot of ointments and bandages. After treating the last of the injuries, you went through most of the ointment jar and a handful of bandage rolls. 

So much waste and for what? 

You stow everything back into the medical bag and finally take off the medical gloves and dumping them into clinical waste bag shortly after. You take a few moments to decontaminate your hands with a hand sanitizer. 

You realized you've been there for four hours or so, evident by the digital clock you spotted next to the bay door. 

You wanted to return to your quarters, but at the same time you couldn't bring yourself to leave the wounded creature by itself. You didn't want it to be dejected. 

For god's sake, just leave it already! 

It is a fine line between its depression and management finding out about your relationship. It really unnerved you how bonding with creatures was not being taken lightly. It’s like a misdemeanor if you were caught. 

You let out a sigh as you approach your companion. Its red and white eyes meet yours as you reach for the chin. "It's okay." You blurt out with calmness. "It's okay." You repeat yourself as you rub the chin, being careful not to cut yourself with the rays. "You're okay." 

Its face relaxes as if the pain quickly faded away. It moves its clean arms to make a de facto embrace, which makes you extend your smile. The way it positioned its arms pulls you closer to continue caressing the wounded creature.  

"As long as I'm with you, you're gonna be safe." You remind your companion as you rub away. Seconds turn into minutes as you continue your session. 

Eventually, the creature is the first to break the embrace. You both knew that it was getting late. "Well, I'm gonna retire for the day." You exclaim as you stretch your limbs. "You were very brave today. Keep it up, and we might challenge the Cup." 

You hoist the medical and waste bags and head towards the platform that raised you to the upper level. You and your creature wave your goodbyes as you go through the closing bay door. 

You knew that you're gonna have to explain this to management. Hopefully they won't do much to your companion. 

Hopefully. 

[xeno-aligned]

Could I please have some pronoun validation? I use lu/lun/luna/lunas/lunaself pronouns and I don't have a name atm so you can just call me anon. I'm lunarian and like compsci and maths. hope that's enough info!

this anon uses lunaself pronouns! lu is lunarian, cool! one of luna interests at the moment is computer science, neat! i don’t know anything much about compsci, maybe lu could tell me about it? another thing lu likes is maths, nice! i hope luna day is good to lun and that lu takes care of lunaself!

[raibebe]

Love Is On Air

Genre: fluff & smut Words: 8.722 Prompt: radio host Johnny x secret admirer female reader Warnings: soft dom Johnny, oral (f receiving), safe sex, dirty talk

A/N: Finally: My entry for the February event of my lovely network @neosmutcollective​. This is totally not the fic I planned on writing. In fact this was started way later after I realized I was never going to finish my original fic on time. Not that this one is on time... Special thanks to everyone who sent our lovely DJs some music recommendations @sly-merlin​, @moonctzeny​, @lenaluvs​, @lucas-wongs​, @burtonized​ and to @ncteaxhoe​ who helped me figure out this idea. I hope you enjoy this even though it’s wayyy too late.

You hurried home to your apartment after your last class of the day that was horrifically late because of whoever had fucked up your schedule this semester. Panting heavily, you busted into your room and threw your jacket and backpack somewhere onto your couch, diving straight for your laptop that was perched on your desk. Cursing the old thing, you waited for agonizing minutes until it had booted up and your browser was open. You quickly opened the familiar page of your university’s campus radio just in time to hear the familiar voice saying: “Hi I’m John-D, welcome to NCT Night Night.” After that both hosts chuckled lowly before Jaehyun spoke: “Tonight we’ll read some of the letters you wrote us over the week again and we will try our best to help you out with whatever problems you throw our way.” “Exactly. Right after we play this song that was suggested by evangelie_99 over on our Twitter, it’s Pluto Projector by Rex Orange County and she said that she loves our show. We’re glad you like it so much, darling. This one is for you,” Johnny softly said before the soft tunes of the song filled your little one-room apartment.

Sighing, you leaned back in your chair, carelessly toeing your shoes off. Listening to NCT Night Night was your escape at night from the stress that classes brought you. The two DJs that were on air every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday were your favorites though. Not only did they have great chemistry but they both could be incredibly funny as well as soothe all your nerves with their calming voices – especially Johnny or John-D as he was called on their show. You might have developed a slightly embarrassing crush on the fratboy with a heart as sweet as his voice from what you knew about him from his radio shows and your shared classes. Since they had started their weekly segment where they would read out letters that students could send them, you had gathered the courage to send Johnny little messages about how you were crushing on him and it had quickly become a running gag on the show. Jaehyun would tease Johnny about it every week while Johnny kept insisting that his secret admirer should just talk to him. But how could you do that? Johnny was everything one could want in a boyfriend. Not only was he ridiculously tall and devastatingly handsome but he was also smart, always seemingly staying on top of his classes and he also went to the gym regularly if his thirst traps on his Instagram stories were anything to go by. When he wasn’t giving out advice in a gentle voice on their radio program, he was out partying with his frat brothers on the weekends more often than not complaining about headaches on their Sunday show. How could you just walk up to him and talk to him? Right. You couldn’t. So you had to resign to sending him anonymous love letters through his radio show.

“Welcome back, hi,” Johnny chuckled once the song had gently faded out and you couldn’t help but giggle along. “That was Pluto Projector by Rex Orange County,” Jaehyun tried to stay on script but you could almost hear the grin on his face because of Johnny’s antics, “If you want your song to play on today’s show, please suggest something over on our Twitter with the hashtag,” Jaehyun paused momentarily and let out a dramatic sigh before continuing, “hashtag JohnDplaymelikeaviolin.” Jaehyun hadn’t even read the whole hashtag out loud when Johnny was already bursting out in laughter and how could you not laugh along with his melodic laughter. “I swear to god I am never letting you choose hashtags for our show ever again,” Jaehyun groaned while Johnny sounded like he was still dying in the background. “Don’t be mean to me Jaehyunie,” he whined and even though today’s episode was not viewable, you could vividly imagine how he was pouting. While the two friends were busy bickering and talking about what they had done since their last show, you pulled up your own Twitter to send a recommendation in.

“Aaaah, I see we’re already getting plenty of suggestions. Sly-merlin suggested us Sexy Dirty Love by Demi Lovato – a great song – and added ‘I wish John-D would actually play me like a violin.” After a potent silence, Johnny broke out in laughter again. “And this is why you won’t choose any more hashtags,” Jaehyun groaned again. “Baby,” Johnny rasped into his mic and even though you weren’t wearing headphones, it sent tingles down your spine, “Just come to our frat party on Friday and I’ll see what I can do.” “Stop plugging our parties on the radio,” Jaehyun scolded the elder, the slap audible over the radio, “Also sly-merlin has to stand in line. You still have your number one admirer who has sent in a letter yet again.” “She still hasn’t come up to me,” Johnny shared, “I can only keep up my chastity for so long. I am saving myself for this girl.” You know he was joking but you were just a simple woman and even in your secluded home, you felt heat rising to your cheeks, your thumbs stopping on your keyboard where you had typed out your song recommendation. Both DJs shared a quiet laugh before Jaehyun asked: “And you really don’t know who she is?” “I really don’t man,” his friend sighed, “Like I have my suspicions because she has to be in my major if she sees me in class that often. That or she’s a stalker which I do not want to think about. But for real, hit me up. I’ll take you out for a coffee.” “Now everyone is going to come up to you and claim that they’re her.” “I’ll take that risk,” Johnny laughed, “Maybe I’ll finally meet the love of my life and settle down.” At that Jaehyun snorted loudly. “The woman that can make you settle down gets free coffee for like a month from me.” “Watch me have a wife and kids at 25 Jae, just to spite you,” his friend snorted, “But up until then, let’s play sly-merlin’s song recommendation: Sexy Dirty Love by Demi Lovato.”

While the song was playing, you finished up your own tweet and hit post before you grabbed your bag that you had carelessly thrown away before to get out your notes. You actually had to start a project for one of the classes you and Johnny actually did share. The professor had announced that he would announce the pairings for a group project tomorrow and you didn’t want to seem like an actual idiot if your group would decide to already meet up and discuss after class. So while you listened to your favorite DJs discuss the questions and worries of whoever had sent them to their email address, you worked through the notes you had taken over the last couple of weeks, trying your best to organize them to remember the key points.

“Oh John-D, I have a very special letter here,” Jaehyun said, waving the paper in front of the microphone so it would pick up the wiggling noises. “What could that be?” Johnny asked with over-exaggerated interest. “It’s from your secret admirer, John-D. So I think you should read it out.” Just like every time, they read your letter, your heart began beating faster and faster in your chest until you were sure, it would break free from your ribcage. “Okay, here I go,” Johnny announced while Jaehyun was playing the same cheesy music he always played when they were reading your letters, “Happy Thursday, John-D. The weekend is almost in reach, keep up the energy for the last day of classes! – she’s so sweet, I’m holding up alright – One of my professors will announce the pairings he made for a group project soon and I am nervous. I don’t have many friends in the course and I’m praying that I will get good group mates I can work well with.” “Oooh, I get that struggle,” Jaehyun interrupted, “I once had to work with a bunch of stoners and ended up doing all the work for a presentation that made up 30 percent of my grade. Worst experience of my life, would not recommend. But we’re wishing you all the luck.” “But you know what’s more interesting about this story?” Johnny tuned in, “Coincidentally my professor for my literature class is assigning our group projects tomorrow as well. Say, my sweet admirer, are you perhaps in the same literature class as me?” In your otherwise silent room, the panicked squeak you let out was loud even to your ears. There was no way Johnny could figure out who you were, there were probably at least 20 more girls with a crush on him in that class alone, so you were safe. “Oooh, so maybe she’s a lit major so that’s why she’s writing love letters.” “Could be but lots of people from different majors are taking that class,” Johnny argued, “Anyways, back to her letter. But I won’t let that disturb me! I will be doing my best regardless! – That’s the spirit – I’ll work through my notes as I listen to your honey voice so I can be prepared. I’m glad you don’t do viewable radios on Thursday’s or else I wouldn’t be able to get anything done, you’re just too distracting John-D,” at that Jaehyun let out a fake gag while Johnny just giggled softly, “Thank you secret admirer, I do clean up quite nicely if I do say so myself. – On last Sunday’s episode you melted my heart when you hid in your hoodie for half the show. – God that was the worst hangover I had in a looong while, I was so miserable.”

“You should have seen him at home,” Jaehyun laughed, “I had to physically drag his whole 180-something-centimeters body first into the shower, then into the car and into the station. He is the biggest crybaby when he’s hungover.” “Don’t expose me like that, Jaehyunie,” Johnny whined loudly, “I was dared to drink a bunch of tequila and my mother didn’t raise neither a quitter nor a coward.” “No, but clearly an idiot,” the younger DJ laughed his deep laugh. “Let me read my love letter in peace,” the other grumbled, “I couldn’t follow for half the show because I was so focused on watching you. Not in a creepy way of course! – Of course not,” Johnny chuckled, “I hope you finished that essay you had to work on after the show in time and still had some time to relax. – I did, don’t worry.” That you already knew when Johnny had handed in his essay in another class you two shared just before you had handed in yours and he had thrown you a little smile that had kept you going through the whole day. “Take care of yourself and keep smiling your beautiful smile, I look forward to seeing you again on Sunday or in classes. And fighting to Jae-D as well of course! – I look forward to hearing from you again, secret admirer. I bet your group project will go just fine, don’t worry too much. If anyone is mean to you, just expose them here and we’ll fight them for you.” “Love that she acknowledged me in one sentence as well,” Jaehyun grumbled, cutting off the cheesy music abruptly. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a sweet admirer who sends you cute messages,” the other teased his friend. “Yeah, yeah, shut up and put that letter in the box under your bed.” “It’s in my sock drawer, thank you very much.”

Giggling, you listened to the two friends bicker, your chest warm with a feeling you were scared to put a name on. “Anyways, I think it’s time for another music recommendation you can still send in via our lovely hashtag JohnDplaymelikeaviolin. This one is from lenaluvies and she says: Please play Hurts So Good by Astrid S thank you. No, thank you for sending something in darling. This one’s for you,” Johnny announced and you couldn’t help but laugh a little pained laugh. That song title hit a little too close to home for your liking. The rest of the radio show went by smoothly and Johnny and Jaehyun tried to help a handful of more students with their problems that couldn’t be more diverse. From a boy who had fallen in love with his best friend which had send him into an identity crisis over to a girl who was failing her classes because she claimed the professor hated her to a freshman who wanted to apply for a fraternity but was scared because of the rumors surrounding them which the DJs quickly debunked since they both were in the same fraternity. In the end they had to cut themselves short, asking their viewers to vote on a poll they would make if people wanted a whole Tuesday episode surrounding fraternities.

“So.” “So,” Johnny copied his friend. “We’re almost at the end of our time with you guys. We couldn’t get through all of your submissions but we hope our team picked a few good ones and at least some of you could get some advice.” “As always you’re free to send us your own stories to our e-mail JohnJaeNNN@NCTU.com to get some advice next Thursday from your favorite DJs: John-D.” “And Jae-D. Every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday on your campus radio on 127mHz. On NCT-“ “Night Night,” they said their ending together and just like every night with them, you said goodnight to your computer screen, closing the tab which draped your little apartment in silence. Sighing loudly, you looked over your notes that needed a little more work if you wanted to make a good first impression on your fellow students tomorrow. Because you couldn’t stand the silence, you opened your Spotify to play the NCT Night Night playlist Johnny and Jaehyun had made with the songs that had been recommended to them, still missing the new additions from tonight.

The next morning found you in your literature class, sitting two rows behind Johnny, staring at the back of his head while doodling on your paper rather than taking notes on whatever the professor was saying. If you were to let your eyes wander, you’d see that almost everyone in the big room was paying as much or even less attention as you were; the students in different states of excitement and anxiety over the group projects he had yet to announce. “I’m sorry professor,” Johnny’s voice suddenly cut through the room, “I’m sure you have already noticed that no one is paying attention to whatever you’re trying to teach us right now. Could you please just announce the groups for the project?” That moment you swore you would be able to hear a pin drop until your eccentric professor chuckled lowly. “I like you, Suh. I was waiting for someone to mention it,” he spoke, getting the dreaded list out of his bag, “Listen closely now, you’ll be assigned in groups of four and each group will get a specific novel to work on. Deadline will be by the end of the semester and your individual paper combined with the group presentation will make up 40% of your final grade.” That made a bunch of people, including you, gasp out loudly. A group project with this much credit to your final grade was always dreaded. “I don’t want to hear any complaints, that’s how it’s always been. Now listen carefully, I won’t repeat myself but the list will be hung on our blackboard as well.” With that being said, the professor began listing names and novels in the most monotone voice he could muster. To say you were basically vibrating off of your seat was an understatement when he got further and further down the list and neither yours nor Johnny’s name had been called yet. “And lastly, an all-time favorite: Romeo and Juliet.” You didn’t even register anything else after the professor had announced that the group featured both Johnny and you along with two other students you didn’t know. Your brain was reduced to static noise while everyone else was getting up around you to pick up the books that had already been stacked in a corner, probably by a poor TA. Only when a person bumped into you, you broke from your stupor to quickly pick up your stuff as well to hurry down to steps to where a crowd of students had already gathered.

Luckily Johnny towered over most of the other students and you could easily spot him and the rest of your group that were two other boys you didn’t recognize. “Hey, you’re the last one we were missing,” Johnny smiled and handed you over your copy of the book. “Y... Yeah, sorry for making you wait,” you stuttered, clutching the small book tightly in your hands. “No big deal,” Johnny played it off, “Do any of you have any more classes today?” When everyone declined, you all agreed that you should get a head start on your project as it would be hard to make a good project out of such an overused love story. While walking over to the student center to decide on a concept, conversation flowed easily between the four of you even though you were still really nervous to be around Johnny. God, you really hoped he didn’t think you were stupid or something just because you were nervous.

The little study session went by in a blur and only further confirmed that you were so whipped for Johnny it wasn’t even funny anymore. You found yourself attentively listening to all of his ideas and laughing at every of his stupid little jokes and only mildly spacing out while looking at Johnny when the others were discussing ideas which had led to one or two mildly embarrassing situations where you would lose track of what you were actually discussing, your mind blank of any input when they asked for your opinion.

Soon you found yourself parting ways with your groupmates, leaving you and Johnny alone because his frat house and your little apartment were located in the same general direction. “Anything fun you’re doing this evening?” Johnny asked, trying to make some light conversation to fill the silence. “No, I’ll just binge watch some shows maybe or listen to the campus radio,” you shrugged it off. While today’s show wasn’t your favorite, you quite liked the DJs soft and gentle voice. “You listen to the campus radio? I have a show on there,” Johnny smiled. “I like listening to you and Jaehyun,” you confessed, trying to fight the heat that was licking at your cheeks. “Oh.” “You seem surprised.” “Yeah, it kind of still seems weird that people enjoy listening to Jae and me rambling for hours on end. You know with him it just feels like I’m hanging out with my brother rather than work.” “Your voices are really soothing, you know,” you tried to explain what you were feeling when listing to them, “And your friendship is kind of adorable. Like we can feel how much you care about each other and you always genuinely try to help your listeners without making fun of them.” For a while Johnny didn’t say anything and you thought you had fucked it up, that he thought you were weird now. “Thank you,” he suddenly said. “Huh?” “It means a lot hearing that. We do lurk on Twitter to see what people think of our show but hearing it like this is something else entirely.” “It’s nothing,” you mused, playfully hitting his arm, “No need to get this soft.” “Hey,” he laughed, “I’ll have you know that I am 180 centimeters of walking softness despite what people might say about me.” Smiling softly you caught his eyes for the first time since you two had started walking and the way his honey eyes were smiling back at you momentarily took your breath away.

“I- My room is right around here, sooooo,” you stuttered. “It was nice working with you. Even though you were spacing out half the time,” Johnny teased, “Thinking about a special someone?” You. The word sat on the tip of your tongue, the low light of the afternoon sun making you bolder than you actually were and Johnny just made you feel incredibly comfortable. “No... No- I- I’m single.” “A crush then?” “Something like that,” you mumbled, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your jacket. “Talk to him. Or her. Or them,” Johnny advised. “I really can’t,” you sighed, “He doesn’t even know I exist.” “Well you don’t need to confess your undying love for him,” he laughed, not knowing he was the boy in question, “Just you know. Casually talk to him. Get to know him.” “I’ll try?” “Is that a question?” “Yeah?” “Have more confidence in yourself,” he gently nudged you, “You’re nice and very easy to talk to.” “Nice... Wow.” “Shut up,” he laughed, “I usually give better compliments but I have yet to get to know you better.” “Would you... Would you even want that?” “Sure,” Johnny shrugged and your heart skipped a couple of beats, “I have to get going or everybody will already be drunk when I arrive. So... I’ll see you in class? And you’ll hear me on Sunday?” “Yeah sure. Don’t drink too much or you will be miserable all show like last week,” you giggled. “Don’t remind me,” he groaned, “I’m never going to drink tequila on a Saturday ever again.” “Goodbye Johnny,” you smiled, really liking how his name sounded when you said it out loud. “Bye,” he waved before going his way.

Once you were sure he was out of hearing distance, you let out a little happy squeak and jumped up and down excitedly. You did it. You had actually done it. You had talked to your crush. And managed to not make a complete fool out of yourself in front of him. Which was a win in your books. A huge win. With a little spring in your steps, you stepped by one of your favorite pizza places to treat yourself before heading home where you spend your evening daydreaming about none other than Johnny while watching reruns of old dramas.

“Hi, I’m Jae-D.” “And I am John-D. Welcome to NCT-“ “Night Night.” “John-D.” “Yes, Jae-D,” Johnny chuckled. “It’s Thursday again which means it’s time to tend to our listener’s worries,” Jaehyun read off of the script, not getting distracted by his friend’s antics, “And today is a very special episode.” “Special?” Jaehyun barely repressed to roll his eyes at his friend’s over-exaggerated acting before continuing: “Yes, since tomorrow is a day off for all students, we have decided to make this episode extra lengthy and-“ he shortly stopped to flash the camera a peace sign, “Viewable despite it being Thursday.” “Do we look okay?” Johnny laughed, checking himself out in the video that was playing on one of their monitors. “Aaaaah, the comments say we look good tonight, thank you,” Jaehyun mused.

And they really did. Not that either of them had to do a whole lot to look good but today they were both wearing white button-downs with their sleeves rolled up to expose their forearms. Jaehyun had even gone so far as to put on some fake glasses. “And if you’re following us on our Twitter you also already know that this week it’s all about love on our campus radio and our show today is no exception,” Johnny read his part of the script. “Today John-D and Jae-D are Loveholics, trying our very best to help you with your problems surrounding love,” Jaehyun completed, “You can send in song recommendations through the hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic just like taryn1026 did – I hope I said that right – but they recommended Paris in the Rain by Lauv to set the mood for today.”

The soft tunes of the song made you relax a little into your sofa where you had chosen to watch today’s episode of NCT Night Night. You had to say that you were kind of nervous for today’s episode. Just like every week you had written your letter to Johnny, telling him about your week and cheering him on for your group project. At this point it should have been pretty obvious just who exactly you were and judging by how Johnny was acting towards you, his flirting leaving you flustered after your study sessions and your group mates mildly annoyed, he seemed to already have put together the pieces. But yesterday while writing your letter you had felt extra bold (and maybe also extra riled up and horny from Johnny’s shameless flirting) and had written him a message that should confirm all his suspicions and would hopefully lead him straight to you and into your bed. But until the end of the show or at least until they read your letter, which you really hoped they did today as well, you had to wait sitting in your apartment, for once not in comfortable clothes but in a nice shirt and pants.

“That was Paris in the Rain by Lauv, recommended to us by taryn1026 through our Twitter with the hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic,” Johnny’s raspy voice filled your apartment when he leaned close to the mic, “Jae-D are you ready to make some love happen?” “I already had my love juice,” Jaehyun answered, showing his pink Starbucks drink to the camera, “And my reading glasses are on.” As to prove his point, he hiked his glasses up his nose before scratching his eye through the holes in the frame, making both DJs chuckle. For the next hour Johnny and Jaehyun tried to solve several relationship dramas as well as a very tricky friends-with-benefits situation and telling a boy to break up with his cheating girlfriend which had been a rather heartbreaking discussion. “So after this,” Jaehyun sighed, “Let’s play another song recommendation. Burtonized has sent in a very fitting song, I hope you all don’t mind a little Korean: It’s God Damn by I.M – a song about heartbreak.”

While the foreign song was playing, the two DJs stretched their backs and sipped on their respective drinks: Jaehyun still on his pink sugar concoction and Johnny already on his second iced Americano. Jaehyun must have found something funny on his phone, nudging his friend to look at him but Johnny was busy typing away on his own, only acknowledging his friend after he had typed his message. Just after that, your own phone buzzed with a message, showing Johnny’s name on the screen.

From: Johnny Are you watching our show?

To: Johnny Sure, you look good today

From: Johnny Make sure to listen closely ;)

“That was God Damn by I.M suggested by burtonized over our Twitter hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic,” Jaehyun’s smooth voice tore you from your spiraling thoughts about the winking face Johnny had sent. “Sadly our show is coming to an end even with our extended airtime.” “But John-D a very important letter is still missing before we close our show. Dare I say it could be the highlight of our show,” Jaehyun joked, already playing the cheesy music he was always playing when Johnny would read your letters. “You’re right Jae-D my lovely secret admirer has sent in another letter,” Johnny mused, arranging himself so he could read the printed out letter while being as close as possible to the mic for it to pick up the rasp in his voice, “Happy Thursday John-D, I hope your week has been more exciting than mine. I have just been going from class to class without much thought, the only high points are my group meetings for the group project we have to hand in soon – That seems very familiar, baby – But since today is all about love, I’ll tell you about a little problem I have: – get your love juice ready, Jae – There is this boy in my group. And boy isn’t really the right word to describe him, he’s a man really,” at that Johnny couldn’t hold back a low chuckle, “I’m sorry, I’ll be serious – And he is flirting with me. Has been for a couple of weeks now. And it has gotten to the point where our groupmates are kind of annoyed at us. He has also walked me home a couple of times but he never so much as touched me. At this point I am so frustrated with him. Is he just playing with me? Or is his mouth bigger than his actions actually are? He has been riling me up all day today and I was ready to let him have his way with me but he only wished me goodnight and left again, leaving me to deal with what he had done all by myself – oh wow, I,” Johnny stuttered, sharing a gaze with his friend who was only barely repressing his laughter, “Wow, okay, I hope we’re in the good for reading this out and it’s late enough,” clearing his voice and raking a hand through his hair, Johnny continued, “John-D I hope this man hears what he has done to me and will deal with the consequences of his actions. Would you play Animal by Jin Yosef and RIELL for me? Just in case this letter hasn’t gotten my point across? – Y... Yeah sure, darling. We’ll play that once our show is over.”

“So John-D,” Jaehyun grinned while loudly slurping on his ‘love juice’, “What would you advice your secret admirer to do about this problem?” “Well if I were her,” Johnny started, his gaze going straight to the camera where he knew you were watching and it felt like he was looking straight into your soul, “I’d wait for him. I’m pretty sure he can prove that his actions speak even louder than his words.” For a while it was quiet between the two DJs, safe for Jaehyun’s obnoxiously loud slurping noises but even if they would have been saying anything, you weren’t sure if you could have comprehended any words with how furiously your heart was beating. “Anyways,” Jaehyun eventually broke the silence once he was sure there was nothing left in his ‘love juice’, “I’m afraid that was it for tonight. This has been your extra lengthy episode of Jae-D and John-D and we will leave you with this wonderful song recommendation: Animal by Jin Yosef and RIELL. If you’ve liked today’s show, we’re here every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday night on your campus radio on 127mHz to listen to all of your worries on NCT-“ “Night Night,” Johnny joined in and they both waved into the camera as your song of choice started playing. The video stream didn’t cut off immediately, showing the boys gathering their things and if your eyes weren’t betraying you, you swore you saw Johnny tense up when the song turned a little more explicit. The two DJs waved to the camera one last time before the stream cut off, leaving the screen of your laptop dark.

That was when it dawned on you what you had done. Shit. With how Johnny had sounded, you probably had about fifteen to twenty minutes until he would be at your doorstep. Oh god. Shit. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you tried to ground yourself before hurriedly closing your laptop and cleaning everything that seemed messy in your little one-room apartment. That was until you heard a knock on your door.

With shaky hands, you slowly opened the door and while you knew who would be standing on the other side, you weren’t ready for how he was going to look like: Johnny was leaning against the doorway casually with his arms crossed over his chest so the tight button-down he was wearing would strain over the planes of his chest muscles but what really reeled you in was how dark his eyes looked when he raked them over your body. “Good evening miss,” he drawled. “Hi,” you breathed. “Tell me what you want so I’m not misinterpreting any of this,” Johnny all but growled, one of his hands coming up to cup your face. “I want you to have me.” If you thought his eyes were dark before, they turned into bottomless black orbs once the words had left your lips. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, baby.” “Please,” you whimpered and that seemed to break Johnny’s resolve as he pulled you close to him and all but crashed his lips into yours. The kiss wasn’t delicate in any way, shape or form with how Johnny was licking into your mouth the second a moan left your lips. His tongue was intertwining with yours messily and in no time both of you were panting into each other’s mouths. “Inside. Now,” you rasped. “All with due time,” Johnny chuckled but let you pull him into your apartment, slamming the door shut to crowd you against it, one of his strong thighs slipping between your legs like it belonged there, “If you’re a good girl and listen well, I’ll give you anything you want.” “Fuck,” you cursed before slamming your lips together again, a new neediness bleeding into the kiss as you tugged on the longer strands of hair at the back of Johnny’s neck which made him growl lowly. “Anything off-limits?” Johnny breathed into your skin as he kissed down your neck to suck a mark there while his hands were busy pulling your shirt from your pants so he could rake them over your naked skin. “Just,” you had to cut yourself off with a moan, “Don’t be mean to me.” “Never,” he promised, “You’ll be my pillow princess.” His sweet words were in stark contrast to how hard his hands were gripping your hips and how his teeth were grazing over your neck that must be littered with marks already. “Take me to bed,” you heaved breathlessly, positive your legs would give out if it wasn’t for Johnny holding you up.

Listening to your demand, he slowly started walking you backwards towards your bed until the two of you were toppling down on top of the covers, his lips never leaving your skin. Whoever had spread the rumors about Johnny being a great lover had been absolutely right, he knew just how to touch you to have you gasping for air and judging by the grin on his lips he hadn’t even started yet. “Please,” you whimpered, arching into his touch, not exactly sure what exactly you were asking for but Johnny seemed to know all the better when he freed you from your top and pants to leave you in your matching lace set while he was still fully clothed in his by now wrinkled button-up and pants. “All for me?” He chuckled and pressed a kiss right between the valley of your breasts, his big hands cupping the soft flesh to squeeze it gently. “Have me,” you gasped out and you could feel the growl he let out vibrating where you were pressed together. “I’m going to ruin you,” Johnny promised, pulling down the cups of your bra to wrap his plush lips around one of your nipples to tease the soft nub until it hardened under his ministrations, sending waves of pleasure down your spine and straight to your core where you could feel your wetness starting to seep into the fabric of your panties. “Johnny,” you mewled and arched into his every touch, his calloused fingertips setting your skin alight when he let them travel down your body to tease over your lower stomach. As if by reflex, you let your thighs fall open for him to finally touch you where you needed him the most. “Such a good girl,” he smiled, blowing cold air over your spit-slicked nipple to watch you squirm beneath him. Your remark got stuck in your throat when he finally cupped you through your panties, feeling how damp the fabric had already become. “Naughty,” he chuckled, his eyes never leaving your face as he circled your clit through the fabric, watching your eyes fluttering shut when his gaze became too intense.

“Johnny,” you sighed, forgetting all other words except for his name. “Relax, princess,” he rasped and kissed his way down your body, leaving love bites on the sensitive skin of your stomach and thighs that shook with anticipation. If you’d say you hadn’t dreamed about his lips on you like this, you would lie and you weren’t going to miss the sight of this for nothing. Fighting back the fog that had started to cloud your mind, you forced your eyes open to look down to where he had settled between your open thighs to find him staring right back at you. “Good girl,” he praised you again before pressing a kiss over your clothed sex that made your head fall back already, the anticipation of what was to come making you push up your hips which made Johnny chuckle lowly. He didn’t leave you any time to feel embarrassed by how needy you were when he hooked your panties to the side unceremoniously and licked a broad stripe up your center, tasting your arousal. “Oh fuck,” you breathed out, your hands flying down to tangle them in the long strands of his hair. Johnny worked his tongue in slow and clever strokes, leaving your mind reeling with pleasure and taking his time to take you apart piece by piece, not even paying attention to your leaking center or your aching clit. But when he did wrap his lips around your clit to gently suck on the nub, your mind almost went numb with how intense his touch was, your thighs clamping shut around him. To make it even worse, he started humming around you while prying your thighs back open, holding you down with his large hands. You felt your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast now that he was altering between teasing your clit with his tongue, lips and even his teeth and fucking your velvety walls with his tongue, setting your nerve endings on fire. “Johnny I’m close,” you warned him but instead of slowing down, he stretched his jaw wide to press his tongue further into you, his nose bumping into your clit in the process and with the combined sensation and his doubled effort, it took no time for your first orgasm of the night to wash over you, a scream of his name leaving your lips as you shook through it, your mind going equally as numb as your legs.

When you came back to it, Johnny had straightened up between your legs and he was grinning down at you while he was unbuttoning his shirt, his face still shiny with your arousal. “That was the first one,” he spoke darkly. “Come here,” you whined, making grabby hands for him until he took pity on you and covered your body with his before connecting your lips in a bruising kiss. You could still taste yourself on his lips but that somehow just made it even hotter.

“Want you inside me,” you panted against his lips when Johnny broke the kiss in favor of raking his teeth over your racing pulse. “Yeah?” He rasped and ground his hips down into yours, making you feel him strain against the fabric of his pants. “Need it,” you moaned at the sweet friction. “Think you can take me?” He laughed as he leaned back on his hunches to pop open the button of his pants, pulling down the zipper agonizingly slow. With wide eyes you watched him push his pants down his narrow hips, leaving him in just his navy boxers that showed the sizable imprint of his hard cock, the fabric against the head dark from where he had leaked precum. Chuckling, he stroked over the outline and just the sight alone made your mouth water. “Show me,” you breathed, spreading your thighs so he could see your needy core, clenching around nothing. “Hmm,” he hummed, dragging one of his fingers that wasn’t preoccupied with teasing himself through the mess of arousal and his saliva between your legs, only barely dipping it into you to feel the muscles trying to suck him inside. “Don’t tease me,” you whined high in your throat. “But I like seeing you squirm,” Johnny grinned but took mercy on you and sunk his finger into you up to the knuckle, gently pumping it inside you. Still sensitive from how intense your last orgasm had been, you were torn between pulling away and wanting more but Johnny made the decision for you when he pulled his finger out, wiping your arousal onto your thigh.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded and finally freed his cock from his briefs. “Fuck.” The curse left your lips without even noticing at the sight of his flushed cock, too heavy to properly stand up against his toned abs. The tip was tinted red and shiny with precum that Johnny generously spread down that whole length, his eyes not leaving yours as you watched him lazily jerk himself. “Like what you see?” You eagerly nodded your head. “Want it inside me.” “Yeah? Show me.”

Throwing all caution out of the window, you quickly sucked two of your fingers between your lips before guiding them to your weeping core to slip them inside you, letting out an over-exaggerated moan as you crooked them. “Oh you’re so naughty, baby,” Johnny groaned, squeezing the base of his cock tightly as he watched you fingering yourself and if you had even one coherent thought left in your head, you’d have the decency to be embarrassed because of how intensely he was staring. “It’s not enough,” you pouted, pulling your fingers free and spreading them to look at the slick covering them, “I’m so wet for you.” “Such a dirty mouth,” he groaned, quickly grabbing his pants to fish a condom from his wallet to roll over his hard length. “Please, Johnny,” you hiccupped, winding your legs around his waist to pull him closer to you. “Sssh, princess,” he soothed you, running his hands over your torso before bending down to press tender kisses to your stomach, “I’ll take care of you.” “Please kiss me.”

Dropping his elbows next to your head to support his weight, he covered your body with his and caught your lips in a kiss much too tender for your current situation, taking his time to explore your mouth until you were perfectly pliant beneath him. “Tell me if it hurts,” he whispered into the small space between you while he snaked a hand between your bodies to guide his cock to your core. When the head slipped in without much resistance, both of you let out twin moans of pleasure. Painstakingly slowly Johnny pushed inside you, centimeter by centimeter until his hips were flush to yours. “Breathe, princess,” he reminded you because you indeed had held your breath and had buried your nails in his biceps. “Shit, you’re big,” you cursed. “So I’ve been told,” Johnny chuckled and peppered your face and neck with little kisses while he slowly ground his hips so you could get used to him inside you.

“Move,” you demanded after a while.   “What’s the magic word baby?” He grinned. “Please, Johnny,” you whimpered, clenching down on him. “Once more.” “Don’t make me beg.” “But you sound so pretty when you do,” he chuckled, only barely moving his hips. “Johnny please,” you whined, trying your best to move on his cock on your own but the angle was just not working out. “Oh, you want to do the work?” “I want you to move,” you groaned, pawing at his chest.

“But I think you’d look so pretty riding my cock,” Johnny rasped and in one fluid movement, he had sat up and pulled you onto his lap. Shit, it felt like he was even deeper now. “Come on, princess.” Whining, you wound your arms around his shoulders and pulled your legs beneath you so you could lift your hips up to make his cock smoothly slide out, the friction just right before you slowly dropped back down again, earning you an appreciative groan from Johnny. “That’s right, baby,” he praised you as you slowly found a comfortable pace, swiveling your hips until the angle was just right. Tightening the grip you had on his shoulders to use it as leverage, you began riding him in earnest, impaling yourself on his cock over and over again until your head was spinning and your thighs started to burn. “Come on, doll,” Johnny grinned, catching one of your nipples between his lips. Whining, you rolled your hips faster until your thighs began shaking. “Need help?” He just grinned, his big hands holding onto your hips to help you move up and down his cock at a steadier pace. “Please Johnny,” you hiccupped, hiding your face in his neck to ground yourself, “Please fuck me.” “Am I not doing just that?” He chuckled, filthily grinding his cock inside you. “Do it right,” you panted into his skin, “Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby.” He didn’t have to tell you twice, it was almost comical how quickly you obeyed his command and arched your back for him. “Hmm, that’s it,” he praised you, tracing the curve of your spine with his hands until he reached the space between your shoulder blades where he gently pushed down to make you arch even further. “So good and pliant for me, just waiting to be filled.” “Please,” you just whined again, past the point of caring about how pathetic you sounded, begging for his cock. “Say it baby,” he demanded, slapping his cock against your wet folds. “Please fuck me Johnny. Please. I want your cock inside me so badly. Want you to fuck me until I can’t even remember my own name anymore. Please I need it. I-“ your frantic rambling got cut off by the surprised moan leaving your lips as he thrust into you without any warning. “Don’t hold back baby,” Johnny rasped before gripping your hips tightly to finally fuck you in earnest, the sound of skin slapping together loud in the otherwise silent room. “God, your ass looks amazing,” he moaned, burying himself in your tight heat over and over again, mesmerized by how his cock was glistening in the low light and how easily your body opened up for him, “You’re basically made to take my cock.” You could only mewl at his dirty words and fist the sheets tightly in your hands as you tried to meet his thrusts as best as you could while you felt like you got your soul fucked right out of you.

“Feels so good,” you slurred when you felt the familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap, clenching around Johnny’s cock. “God baby, if you keep clenching like that I’m gonna cum,” Johnny cursed, grabbing you by the neck to pull you up against his chest, the pace of his hips only getting faster. “Please Johnny. Want it inside,” you whined, letting him use your body how he wanted to relish in the low moans he let out. “You want me to fill you up baby?” “Want it so bad, Johnny,” you mewled. “Then cum for me. Cum on my cock and I’ll give you anything you want.” And oh god. You had never thought that the strained sound of a couple of words could be enough to actually trip you over the edge but the rasp in Johnny’s voice had you falling apart in his arms, your orgasm ripping through you so hard it had your thighs shaking. “Such a good girl,” Johnny praised you before he let out a low guttural moan and fucked into you once – then twice – before his hips came to a halt, emptying his cum inside the condom.

For a while you two just panted loudly before Johnny gently laid you back down onto the mattress, chuckling lowly when you whined at the loss of his cock. “Shit,” you giggled while he quickly got rid of the condom, throwing it in the general direction of your trashcan. So tender you could have missed it, Johnny pressed a row of kisses down your spine until he reached the swell of your ass. “Cuddle me,” you pouted, making grabby hands at him. “We’re sweaty, princess,” he laughed but gave in when you kept pouting. “I don’t care,” you whined, fitting your head beneath his, wrapping your arms and legs around his body to cling to him like a koala. “You’re cute,” he smiled, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“For how long did you know?” “Know what?” Johnny asked, clearly confused. “That I was your secret admirer.” “I didn’t.” “It was so obvious,” you groaned. “Okay maybe I got a hunch after we started that group project. But you never said anything.” “What was I supposed to say? Oh Johnny, by the way, I’m the one who has been writing you cringey love letters for like half a year already. Please go out with me?” That made Johnny laugh, the sound melodic in the quiet of your room. “I would have said yes, you know?” He spoke lowly, “I’ll miss your letters.” “What makes you think I will stop writing them?” “Because you can tell me all that stuff in person now when we go on dates.” “We’ll go on dates?” “That’s what people do when they like each other, princess,” Johnny chuckled, “And I really like you. Both as my secret admirer and my classmate.” “Oh my god stop,” you whined, hiding your hot face in his chest, feeling shy all of a sudden while Johnny was just laughing.

“I like you too,” you eventually mumbled once it had gotten quiet again. “I figured,” he teased you. “I changed my mind,” you immediately shot back, rising from where you were cuddled into his chest but every other protest died on your tongue when you saw his dreamy expression, his honey eyes finding yours and completely ignoring the fact that you were still very much naked. “Date me,” he said. “Okay,” you answered, easily meeting his lips in a sweet kiss that wouldn’t be the last one you two shared tonight.

“Hello and welcome back, that was Middle Of The Night by Monsta X, suggested to us by raibebe through our Twitter with the hashtag JonJaeLoveTalk. We’re your DJ’s John-D.” “And Jae-D on NCT Night Night. Hello again to all of our listeners. John-D.” “Yes Jae-D,” Johnny chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Something is off today. I looked through our mail and there was no letter from your secret admirer.” “Oh really,” he feigned surprise. “Either they didn’t send anything in or our director got sick of the pining.” “I can calm you right back down Jae-D,” Johnny smiled, “Because she simply doesn’t need to send any more letters. I finally found her.” “No way. For real? And you didn’t tell me? I have to find out through our radio show? Friendship is dead,” Jaehyun sighed dramatically and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Jae-D you know you’ll always be the number one in my heart, you know that.” At that Jaehyun let out fake gagging noises that made both friends chuckle.

“No but for real. I finally found her and asked her out. It’s going great so yeah,” Johnny shrugged, “In case you’re listening baby: I’m dropping by later and bring sushi.” “This is so domestic already,” Jaehyun sighed dramatically, “Where is my secret admirer?” “Maybe you could find love as well if you stopped acting like the textbook example of a frat boy.” “What is that even supposed to mean?”

Smiling, you leaned back on your sofa and listened to your boyfriend bickering with his best friend. Boyfriend. That sounded good even though it still felt unreal. Love Letters weren’t dead after all it seemed.

[femmeharringrove]

see, it's not like steve's ever been good at coping.

it's bad after starcourt, but instead of dealing with it then steve just puts everything into healing others. he comforts eleven, stays on the phone all night with lucas or dustin, helps will learn not to fear the cold, gives billy a shoulder to cry on and a place to live.

and so billy gets a front-row seat to steve's self-destruction.

he doesn't think it's his place to speak, initially, but he does worry when steve leaves early in the afternoon and comes back wasted, bruises on his throat and traces of powder on his clothes. some weekends he doesn't come home, he goes to indianapolis and shows up late sunday evening with a massive hangover and billy just gets him to eat and drink a little before getting him in bed. steve's not eating enough, he's losing weight and billy worries because this is his best friend, not even heather matches their level. and steve's done so much good for him but he doesn't know how to return the favor - not until steve barrels out of the bathroom one night shaking like a leaf, tears streaming down his face. billy takes one look inside, catches sight of two life-changing sticks, and rushes out after him.

and it's then, when he finds steve out by the quarry in a panic, that he knows how to help.

"i didn't mean to get pregnant," steve sniffles, and the moment billy crouches next to him the brunette is shuffling closer, scared and in need of comfort. and billy's still working on the physical thing, learning it's okay to be affectionate, but he doesn't hesitate to hold steve as close as he can.

"i know," he murmurs. "it's okay. we'll figure it out. you aren't doing this alone, you hear me?" and initially billy thinks he's fucked up because steve starts crying again, but when this round of sobs passes the other boy gives him a shaky smile.

"you promise?"

"cross my heart and all that shit." and that's just it. whatever steve needs, billy's got him.

steve initially doesn't want to go through with it, but decides ultimately it could be a good thing. he's thought about parenthood before, always wondered if he could be a better father than his own. this is a chance to prove it. and billy gives him all the support in the world. nobody messes with the only child of the harrington family, they can't afford the fallout, but he's always gotten dirty looks after coming out and they get worse now that he's pregnant. but billy follows him everywhere now amd anyone who gives him a look has to face the blonde's anger. and sure, he's not where he once was. he's still putting on muscle and learning to use his hands again, but half of what makes billy hargrove scary is the way he presents himself, the glare that suggests he knows people won't mess with him. and they don't, amd they don't mess with steve either for the same reason.

and when billy isn't around to do the protecting, steve's got others. joyce has kicked people out of melvad's before, for harassing a fifteen year-old steve. and five years later she still does it, voice calm and eyes steely. claudia is at every appointment he has, making sure the other nurses and doctors call him by the right name and pronouns. she's there when steve sees the baby's hand for the first time and has a breakdown because he's growing a whole person and doesn't know if he'll really be able to take care of them.

and claudia, she remembers being confused and a little judgemental when steve came out as steve, but that was before she caught him shuffling down the aisles of the library one day, small and clearly anxious about everyone he came across. thirteen year-old steve had lacked the easy confidence he sported now, and it was when she saw him that it sort of clicked. she didn't understand how someone could be a gender other than the one they were born as, but she made a point to greet him as steve any time she saw him and made an effort to accept him. now he's like the older son she never had, dustin's big brother, and when he weeps frantically over the daunting trial of parenthood she takes him by the shoulders and gives him the most serious look she can muster.

"nobody is ever ready for parenthood," she tells him, and one hand comes to wipe his tears away. "but you have exactly the heart for this job. you're going to be the best father in this whole town."

which steve doesn't agree with. the best dad in town is hopper.

hopper, who's been harassing people for harassing steve for years, but is more aggressive about it now because steve really means something to him now. sometimes, eleven calls him her brother, and hop figures, yeah, the kid could use a dad. so he makes a habit of checking up on him, and it gets more frequent now because he's also checking on billy, and with a baby on the way hopper's protectiveness is at an all-time high. nobody wants to fuck with the chief, so no one fucks with steve.

when the harringtons find out, steve's dad is livid, but it's steve's mother who keeps him from lashing out. the couple can't stand the blow to their social life and so it's off to lansing for them, a fresh start or whatever. the house stays under their name, though, and steve and billy make it theirs. the cosy master bedroom becomes steve's, billy finally decorates the guest room downstairs as his own. his mother calls sort of regularly, she's not thrilled about the situation but she's eager for a grandbaby to spoil, and steve counts that as a blessing.

of course, the party freaks out when steve announces his pregnancy. it's not like they didn't know steve could get pregnant, but they've never considered the idea that he would. eleven, max, and will are immediately thrilled, discussing baby names and wanting to pat his belly - especially el, who's never really experienced a pregnancy. mike and lucas are a little weirded out, but mike brings steve a bunch of baby books left over from holly and lucas donates his own old toys, declaring that baby harrington was going to be the coolest baby ever if he got to help look out for the little one. dustin doesn't know how to feel initially, which stresses steve out, but when someone throws a slur at steve three weeks after that dustin flips out, yells himself hoarse at the fucker, and declares himself steve and the baby's most ardent protector. the whole group has already discussed babysitting schedules and, yeah, maybe steve did cry about it, but he's pregnant and it was probably the hormones and not anything else, thank you.

robin gently berates him about sleeping with strangers out of town when she finds out, but after that she takes her position as aunt very seriously. within four weeks she buys three outfits, five stuffed animals, and a french record to help the baby learn the language.

"no such thing as too early," she says as she drops it on the dresser in steve's old room. the new nursery.

it's a labor of love, mostly by billy. woodworking is a big help with his hands so he was all too happy to make a crib himself. again, steve cried, but this time he feels it's justified. billy's put a rocking chair in too, and a record player too - "your taste in music is shit," he'd deadpanned as he brought the thing in. "someone's gotta culture the little snot." amd billy does that all the time, he's called the baby a snot, a turd, a little shit, all that jazz. but his face is softer than it's ever been and that makes steve smile every single time.

steve's labor of love starts five weeks early, much to his horror, and it hurts like a bitch. he gives birth early in the morning after a rainy night. she's a little replica of steve, down to the moles on her cheek, and he doesn't think he's ever known love until he looks at his daughter and feels the almost painful swell in his chest. he cries as he hugs her against his chest and swears on his life he'll do right by this wondrous little girl. her name is nikita - no, not after the elton john song, though later when she asks that's what he tells her, just so she can throw her head back and groan, "daaad!"

no, she's named after his grandmother. and she gets rosaline for a middle name after billy's mother. because, even if they didn't say it, it's clear billy intends to co-parent. he doesn't call it that, he just says he's helping a friend, but he's the one who changes her diaper at night and bounces her to sleep listening to metallica and teaches her to eat spaghetti.

and originally, he's the one she calls dad.

first it's baba, which steve thinks is in reference to the fact that billy bottlefeeds her, and billy thinks it's similar enough to "billy" to not be anything more than that. but she gets older and learns to say billy and steve, and still calls him baba. baba and papa. and to the outside world it makes sense, they're a little family, steve and billy ooze a chemistry anyone else can't deny. but it takes them three extra years to get with the program and become a couple.

to this day, niki claims there aren't more clueless people out than her dads when it comes to love.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Paul Higgs: Baby Daze

Tomorrow I will return you to your regularly scheduled whump programming. Today... this is what wanted to be written.

CW: Teen pregnancy, some crass language surrounding said pregnancy, brief gun reference, some organized crime references

Approximately eighteen years before Tristan Higgs became another casualty of WRU…

-

"Well, look who’s here! Billy Higgs’s boy, come to see us after school, then?" Sean Malley claps him on the back and Paul nearly stumbles forward, just barely catching himself as he crosses the threshold from the sun-warmed walkway with straggly weeds growing stubbornly up through the cracks into the chilly shadowed warehouse. His sneakers scrape along the ground, but he stays standing.

He's hardly even as big as a stick compared to his dad's work buddies, all older guys with thick muscled forearms and sleeves rolled up to their elbows. He’s never had much muscle on him at all, but then his dad didn’t have much in old photos either. Maybe he’d get some as he got older, if he worked here. If they let him. "How’s things, hm? Keeping your grades up?”

Paul smiles, a slightly strained expression. The smile is automatic, it’s what everyone expects with small talk. At school he mostly doesn’t even bother with it, but with his dad’s friends… well, a smile’s polite. Right? Friendly. 

He tries to look more friendly. He needs them to say yes to what he’s about to ask for.

“They’re fine,” He says, squinting as his eyes adjust to the change in light. “Same as always, A’s and B’s.”

Mostly B’s, but they don’t need to know that.

“Good, good.” Sean slides an arm around his shoulders, jovial as always. Paul tries not to be visibly uncomfortable at the touch. Everyone is always touchy, in the world, and he’s never liked it much. Except with Ronnie, but… that’s different. “So, talk to us, Paulie. What's got Billy’s boy mucking around here at the Garden with the old-timers?" 

It's not actually much of a garden, unless you count the dandelions in the sidewalks and the bits of scraggly grass along the edges of the pavement as your rows of plants. Instead, the big warehouse stretches wider than two Walmarts, chopped off into pieces by the standalone temporary walls inside that don't reach the ceiling. 

The ‘Garden’ is a place where things happen that no one with a badge is ever supposed to see. There's shouting, good-natured calling out of sums and figures and code words Paul doesn't know, bouncing and echoing in a constant chaos of sound. Metal scrapes, an odd clicking Paul vaguely recognizes but can’t quite place until he thinks of his dad cleaning his guns now and then at night, carefully putting them back together once he’s done. 

All that noise lays heavy like a blanket over his skin. He pushes past it - he's got a reason to be here, and he won't let Ronnie down. He can’t let her down.

"I'm here to work," He says, going for strong and loud. He doesn't change expression when the men around him laugh. 

He doesn't think their laughter is meant to be unkind, and besides, he doesn't really care if it is. These men have all known him since he was born - if anyone’s going to give him what he needs, it’ll be them. "My dad told me I could pick up some shifts this weekend as a lookout, that you pay cash at the end of the shift, right away. That I could get a couple hundred if I’m good at it, maybe five if I do some running, too.”

"Oh he said that, did he?" Sean meets eyes with Cilly, whose real name Paul has never learned. He isn’t entirely sure anyone here has ever given him their real legal name. Not even Sean. "Will might've let the family know first before he sent his boy here, hm? 

"Well, it's. It's important I get cash. Um. Fast. I just spoke to him, probably he'll call you in a bit thinking he's giving you a warning." Paul tries for another smile, and hopes it's warm enough. A bit of coppery strawberry blond hair falls over his green eyes as he looks hopefully from man to man. 

He's not even eighteen yet, but really, isn't that even better for a lookout? He knows where they do their business, he knows who to watch for, and he doesn’t look like he’s one of them at all. He's paid attention, sat up at night making maps of where they work and what they do. He knows they’ve gotten into business with WRU, even, the big Facility up in Berras has been sending people down here now and then. He’s good at this sort of thing. He knows he can do this. He’s going to make a living at this one day, and everyone starts somewhere.

He just… has to convince them. These men aren't unreasonable, and they're family. Well, sort of. In a way. In that they all commit crimes with his dad. And some of them actually are real family, although he’s not always sure exactly who.

"What d'you need cash for that can't wait for your parents to come back from Florida, then?" That's Cilly, scratching idly at a red spot on his face, sipping a mug of hot tea like they're at a kitchen counter and not a fold-out table by a warehouse door. The others all have takeout coffee cups, but not Cilly. 

Paul's mom buys him new mugs on all her vacations. A gentleman among thieves, she said once. 

Nah, Paul's dad had said. Just a thief. But he puts on airs for you. 

All the more reason to show him my appreciation, Bill. 

The mug he’s drinking from now was one of Paul’s mom’s presents to him. It has a little palmetto tree on the side and Nothin’ Could Be Finer written in swirling script. It came from a trip to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina when Paul was seven. 

He hated that trip. He never liked sand. Or the ocean. Or the noise of all the people everywhere in the street. He would have been happy with a book on the couch in the condo if they’d have let him stay there. 

"They're not in-"

"Think they're in Georgia," Conor pipes up, the oldest with hair gone nearly gray, cousins to the real boss, a man Paul has met maybe three times and knows only as Mr. Sondheim - which isn’t even a little bit his actual name. 

Conor makes Paul’s skin prickle, the way he thinks maybe a cat feels when it sees a mean-looking dog across the street. Paul's dad came home once with blood he had to wash off his hands and a shirt he had to throw out. When Paul asked, he said only, Conor's temper is going to get someone who matters killed one day. Too bad his grandson's as bad as he is. "Aren't they?"

"Nah," Sean says, shaking his head. "Florida. Definitely Florida."

"Actually," Paul starts. "They're in-"

"I thought Texas," Cilly says, almost thoughtful. He interrupts Paul thoughtlessly, and Paul’s face colors a little with embarrassment. He feels like the odd man out in a conversation meant to be about him. 

"They went to Alabama," Paul finally says, soft. Thinking no one’s listening, but they all look at him then. That's worse than when they weren't paying attention at all. He never meets any one person's eyes, instead focusing on Sean Malley's forehead, a spot that'll look like eye contact without having to be it. He's never liked having to look too many people in the eye. 

Or anyone, actually. 

"Ah, all right then. Alabama. Well. What couldn't wait for them to get back from Alabama, Paulie-Wol?"

No one's called him Paulie-Wol since he was eleven - and he hated it then. He blushes even darker. He's always been easy to make blush, and they laugh again. It's a little meaner this time. He has to not care. It’s important not to care, so they’ll let him work. 

Paul Higgs straightens his narrow shoulders and pulls a crumpled but of paper, shiny on one side, out from his back pocket. "This is why. I need money. Fast. For this."

He can't help how his voice dips, hushed, almost in awe. Sean is the first to take the little piece of paper, eyes widening in surprise at what he sees, before he hands it to Conor, who whistles through his teeth. Cilly takes it next, with a soft exhalation that's either curse or prayer. 

With this group, it could be either. Or both. Paul’s dad always says God doesn’t care overmuch about the difference.

"You're a bit young, aren't you? To need money for this?" Sean asks, and he's… concerned, Paul thinks, and he tries to square himself up even taller. “What’re you, Paulie, fifteen?”

"S-seventeen. It’s-... we didn’t plan on it, Sean, it just happened." This time when his face stays red, heat burning under the smattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose, they don't laugh. All their smiles are gone, too.

They've gone serious, these men who aren't quite blood but might as well be. They aren't laughing at or with or because of him. They look worried about him.

"Paulie," Conor says, shaking his head. "Paulie, you know better than this. Don't they teach you how to make sure this shit don't just happen? Thought we’d stop having teenagers knocking each other up once we got past the eighties.”

"They did. I had a whole health class where we-... but it doesn’t matter, it still. Happened, okay?" The absolute last thing he wants to do is talk to these old guys about Ronnie, and why, and when. If they ask him he’ll melt into the floor, and die, and just be dead right here and now.  

“So, when you say you need money… Are you looking to drive her up to Berras?”

“No, that’s not... We talked about it, but she said she already thought about it and made her decision. This isn’t… Don’t look at me like that. I like her decision. I’m happy.”

“You are?” Sean blinks, surprised.

“Yes! I'm happy, so don't tell me I fucked up, because I did. I know I did, but… but I talked to Ronnie, and we have a whole plan and I need money for my plan. And just. Look at it.”

Sean glances back down, taking the paper back, smoothing it out. Shiny on one side, it's a printed black and white image, a smeary blur of monochrome shades. Unmistakable in its center, more or less, is a gently rounded blob of white, topped with another and with other little blobs coming off its sides. Labeled along the top is Baby Botham, 14 weeks 3 days. 

“Botham?” Sean asks, head cocked to one side.

“That’s… that’s Ronnie’s last name. She, uh. She didn’t tell them… Because we’re not married.” Paul squares himself up again. “Yet. We’re not married yet.”

He tries not to think about Ronnie crying on his shoulder about how her parents and her sister had screamed at her when she told them, that no one was talking to her and they might throw her out, like this. His throat will close up if he does, in hurt for her, and in anger. 

His own parents he’d just told on the phone today, heard the long silence on the other end. Whispers that didn’t quite carry through the line. Then his mother had said, brisk and no-nonsense as always, So what does Ronnie want to do? We’ll help however we can. Will she need somewhere to stay?

“You’re not married yet,” Cilly repeats, not with derision, just with a kind of flat uncertainty. “You’re seventeen, Paulie. Little young to be talking marriage, don’t you think?”

“Well, we’re talking it, anyway,” Paul says firmly. “And don’t tell me it’s stupid. We already made our minds up.”

“Well, far be it for me to question your judgement,” Sean deadpans. “Since you’re clearly making excellent decisions already-”

“I got married at sixteen,” Conor points out. “Wife and I been married forty-two years this December, too. Sometimes it works out.”

“Different world, different times,” Cilly counters, and Conor has to nod in agreement to that. “Lots of those didn’t work out either, now did they? Besides, kids got options now we didn’t have back then.”

“Ronnie doesn’t want those other options,” Paul says, forcing his voice to be loud enough to carry, surprising all three men, who give him a new kind of look. Maybe even seeing him as nearly a man and not a kid, just for the moment. “She doesn’t. I never told her to do or not do anything, we talked about it, and she knows what she wants to do, and I agree with her. Ronnie and I want to get married, and we’ll need somewhere we can live when-... when the baby comes. So I need to start making money. And I want-... I need some fast, this weekend.”

Cilly’s expression goes cold. “Don’t tell me your folks are making you find a place that fast. I’ll take Billy to the woodshed myself if he’d be such a bastard to his own kid when things get tough-”

“He’s not,” Paul says quickly. “They’re not. Mom and Dad aren’t-... but they get it, they’re helping us. It’s not for an apartment, not yet. It’s so I can buy her some stuff.”

"This is a serious thing," Sean says, and he rubs his thumb over what Paul is pretty sure is his baby's head. The blobs are all sort of odd to look at, but… he's pretty sure that one's the head. It’s where he would put the head, if he were designing a person, anyway. "But I can see you’re quite the serious young man, now. What sort of stuff are you lookin’ to buy, Paulie?" 

Paul swallows, nervously rubbing his palms along the seems on the outside of his pants. “I… I don’t know. What do you buy someone who’s pregnant? I thought, like, baby clothes? Or a crib?”

“No, no, no.” Sean shakes his head. “You can’t just get her baby stuff, not this early. You are not starting with a crib, Paulie. You got nowhere to even put one yet.”

“Then… what do I buy?” Paul looks from man to man. “I’ve never known a pregnant person before, not anyone I cared about.”

“You were around for my wife’s last pregnancy,” Sean says, mildly offended.

Paul shrugs. 

The three older men look at each other, and then sigh nearly as one. Someone pushes out the fourth chair from the fold-up table and Paul sits, each of the other men sitting in turn. Sean picks up his phone and dials. “Hey, Don. Let everybody know we’re off-limits for the next couple hours, ‘til lunch. Yeah, Billy Higgs’s boy stopped by. He’s sniffing around for some lookout work this weekend. Find him some decent jobs for me, will you?”

Paul starts to smile, and it’s genuine this time. Sean hands him back the little picture of the blob that will become a baby, his and Ronnie’s baby, and he tries not to crumble it fully in his hands, worried his sweat will smear the ink. She’ll get another one in a few weeks, said her doctor told her it’ll look more like a person, then. Less like a weird frog. Or like a really, really bad painting.

“Thanks, I’ll owe you.” Sean hangs up the phone and grins, leaning on his elbows on the wobbly little table. The sun shines warmly through the open warehouse doors on Paul’s back. “All right. Between the three of us, we’ve got, what, ten kids?”

“Yeah, but five of those are all Cilly’s,” Conor points out. “And mine stopped bein’ kids decades ago.”

“Yeah, but babies don’t change, and they don’t need much. You need a pen and paper to write things down, Paulie?”

“Write… write what down?” 

“What you’re gonna spend your money on, for your girlfriend. You don’t just show up with baby clothes, kid, you gotta go all out. Let’s talk date, let’s talk gifts for this Ronnie, let’s talk it all out.”

“What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” Cilly says. “They all get that book, right? Isn’t that the one?”

Sean snorts, derisive. “Don’t get her that, not this early. That damn book had my wife in fucking tears telling her everything that could go wrong. We need to think of a happier book than that.”

“Well, call your wife and ask her what she’d want, then.”

“Maybe I will.”

“You should!”

“She’s liable to start planning a damn baby shower if I do. You know how Christa is about little ones.”

Cilly grins. “Think she’ll make those deviled eggs I like for the shower?”

“Cilly, for God’s sake, we found out about this five minutes ago.”

“Right, but... deviled eggs.”

Paul takes a deep breath, and sits back in his chair. “I’ll remember, whatever you say. I promise. I don’t need to write it down. Just tell me what I should get her, what I should do.”

“Right. Well, then.” Sean spreads his hands. “Let’s talk gifts.”

-

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump ,  @whump-tr0pes  @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump

[btsficsforthehumble]

adj.: 1. Modern, unfamiliar, or different

2. Not based on or conforming to what is generally done or believed

pairing: reader x ot7

genre: college au; angst, fluff, smut, poly, ot7

Summary: You begin your first year at a prestigious university, set out on achieving your academic goals when a series of men step into your life that change the way you view the definition of love.

Part Five

Warnings: none in this chapter

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: New characters, yay! Just an fyi but I would like to start posting one chapter every week... thots?? Also, I've been thinking of adding a taglist? sksk I know it would be small but I personally love to get tagged when new chapters come out for my faves. If that's something ya'll would like comment so I know!! Alright, back to your regularly scheduled program :)

----

Literature was next. Now this? This you could handle. Always being a bit of an avid reader, you could devour a novel in one night --- and you often did. Finding the hidden meanings between the lines of text, like unwrapping a present, gave you a thrill. You were the person who could debate for hours about the meaning of a symbol in a book, as annoying as that is to everyone else.

Maybe it was the promise of escape, where you could be transplanted into another world, detached from your own, that appealed so much to you about reading. You could lose yourself, feeling the rush of the love affair or the thrill of a dangerous adventure. Coupled with your analytical nature, you felt more than at home in a literature classroom.

With this in mind, you make your way to your next class with more vigor than usual. When you arrive and take a seat, you pull out your materials and wait for class to begin.

Several minutes later, your professor walks to the podium in the front of the room to introduce herself. After several minutes of reviewing the syllabus, she explains the structure of the class. You were to be placed in small groups, to discuss the readings and write a paper at the end of the semester. This made you a little nervous --- having to rely on others to some capacity for your grade always gave you a bit of anxiety.

She began reading out the names of the students belonging to each group, so you listen carefully as to not miss your own name despite your anxious thoughts swirling inside your head.

“... Eum Hee-Young, Gal Ae-Cha, Ree Mun-Hee, you are group seven. Kim Seokjin, Y/l/n y/f/n, Kim Namjoon, you are group eight. Ok Youngsoo…” her voice fades off as you glance around the room, trying to meet the gazes of other searching eyes as your group was announced.

Your eyes meet those of a guy who looked maybe a year or two older than you, with round, wire frame glasses. His mahogany hair was pushed off of his forehead, parted to the side giving him a youthful but put-together look. He holds up eight fingers, looking at you expectedly, and you nod quickly. He picks up his belongings, preparing to move to you as you had empty space in the seats around you. As he slings his backpack over a shoulder, you scan your eyes around the room to try to catch the other member of your group.

To your surprise, your eyes meet those of the same boy you had ogled over yesterday in your calculus class, before it had started. You shyly hold up your own eight fingers, to which he gives a decisive nod to, and begins to make his way to you as well. You can’t help but notice the planes of his back as he bends down to grab his backpack, his wide shoulders tilting making them seem even larger. He is wearing a simple blue button down and jeans, but even through that you could tell his shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, making him have the perfect masculine inverted triangular build.

Slightly embarrassed at your thoughts, you glance at your other partner, now close to you. His oversized yellow knit sweater swallowed him a little, but with the glasses gave him a cute bookish look. His large frame juxtaposed his cute appearance --- he was on the taller side and seemed built as well. You made eye contact, and gestured to the seat next to you for him to sit. The other boy now approaching, you both watch as he takes the other open seat in front of you.

Your group now assembled, you tune back into your professor who was explaining the first text you were to read together. She told you that it was a short love story that relied heavily on symbolism and became a prominent symbol in and of itself in movies and television. Your first assignment was to analyze the symbolism of the text, and come to a more complex conclusion than what the surface of the text presents. You could feel yourself becoming slightly excited to jump into the assignment as she explained.

“You will be given the rest of class to get acquainted with your group members. They will be permanent, bar any issues that may arise. The first assignment is due at the end of next class. While on this first assignment I will be more lenient with grading, please do your best and set a good standard for your groups. Okay, go ahead everyone,” she finishes.

At her dismissal of your attention, you glance back at your group members. The boy with glasses speaks first. “I’m Namjoon, nice to meet you guys.”

“Seokjin, or just Jin,” the other boy gives.

“I’m y/n, nice to meet you both.”

“So, what year and major are you? I’m a third year, and a journalism major,” Namjoon offers. As he speaks, he gives you both a grin that displays deep dimples on both cheeks. He was very cute, you decided. He had a nerdy charm to him, with a build on the beefy side that made you want to cuddle him.

“I’m a first year… and to tell the truth I haven’t decided on a major yet,” you admit, but give them both a smile.

“Ah, hoobae, you are lucky you are with us pros then! I’m a fourth year, and a business major,” Seokjin says with a wide smile.

“Sunbaenim, are you in calculus before this? I thought I recognized you from there,” you downplay a little. You knew he was in that class since you had spent time checking him out in it, but didn’t want to seem creepy.

“I have a recognizable face.” At this he gives a smug look, but is clearly using a joking tone. “Yeah, calculus with Yoo at nine?”

“Yep. That guy goes so fast,” you frown. “But anyways, how do you guys feel about this assignment?”

Namjoon enters the conversation again, “Honestly I’m kind of excited for it. It’s been a while since I’ve done any reading that isn’t research related, which kind of sucks.”

“That does suck. I love to read, that’s why I took this class, actually,” you empathize.

“Yeah? What do you like to read?” Namjoon leans towards you a bit, excited at the prospect of talking about reading it seems.

“Oh, um… I’d say my favorite genre is probably any type of fantasy, I like being able to be in a different world for a bit. Oh, I also like historical pieces, that stuff is always so interesting.” You were a little hesitant to share, afraid he’d judge your preferences.

“I love historical pieces. I think that’s one of the things that lead me into journalism actually, it’s basically writing history for those in the future to look back on. I just think that’s really cool.” His eyes seemed glitter as he talked about something he was obviously passionate about. You felt yourself developing a soft spot for the boy, finding his friendly disposition and slightly nerdy personality to be incredibly endearing. It didn’t hurt he was also very attractive.

“What about you sunbaenim? Do you like to read?” you ask Seokjin, whose head was oscillating between you and Namjoon.

Surprised the attention shifted to him, his eyes widened to give him an owlish look. You are really surrounded by some beautiful men, you think. What do they put in the water here? It would be normal to run across a cute guy here or there, but this is kind of ridiculous. Seokjin himself has a face that is so beautiful it looks like it should have been carved out of marble!

Focus! You have to scold yourself. The boy you were just admiring in your head is now answering your question and you are too distracted to even process what he’s saying.

“... not too crazy, occasionally I guess…” His body language told you that he was slightly embarrassed at not being as enthusiastic a reader as you and Namjoon.

“I’m sure you have hobbies that are cooler than reading then, if I was athletic or creative I wouldn’t read so much either! Namjoon-sunbaenim, I’m sure you agree,” you encourage with a smile, wanting Namjoon to follow suit in making Seokjin feel comfortable.

Thankfully, he catches on quick. “Oh, yeah, I am way too clumsy to do anything more high stakes than page turning,” He chuckles. You and Seokjin both smile at Namjoon’s subtle self-deprecation. They both were sweet, you think. Your earlier fears about working with others subside. “I guess I could say that I do have another hobby though, I actually help out at the school’s radio station for fun,” Namjoon adds shyly.

Jin tilts his head in surprise. “Oh really? I have a friend who…”

He gets abruptly cut off by the professor’s voice echoing through the room, which causes him to stop his thought.

“Hopefully everyone is acquainted now, and is ready to get to work next class. I expect good things from you all this semester. You are dismissed,” your professor says with finality.

The three of you quickly gather your things, ready to merge with the swarm of students streaming out of the door. You give them both a smile, and say, “It was nice meeting you both. See you next class!” to which they give their own farewell.

As you leave, you check your phone out of habit. It seems your intuition is right, as usual.

*Miss me yet?*

Does Taehyung really have nothing better to do?

*What exactly is there to miss?*

You hope that after your curt response he’d get the memo. This guy is such a fuckboy, you think. While you don’t know why he set his sights on you for now, you hope he gets bored soon. While you give that tough persona to him, the truth is you are more sensitive than that. The idea of being used for sex once and then discarded was unappealing, and Taehyung seemed like the type to do just that.

----

Finally home after attending two more classes for the day, which were thankfully much less eventful, you slip off your shoes and let your bag slide off your shoulder to thunk on the floor. You were tired. And hungry, apparently, because your stomach makes some concerning noises as soon as you slip your light jacket off. You make your way to the kitchen at the sound, ready to make a nice dinner and decompress.

When you get there, you see one of your new roommates sitting at the stools for your kitchen counter. This roommate was one that you had connected with immediately, drawn to her blunt but fun-loving aura. Her short stature, shorter than average, gave no warning for her and ‘gives-no-fucks’ attitude. You could tell however, that inside she had a soft heart. Even in your short time together, you had seen glimpses of it here and there.

You learned when you had met that she had moved to Korea from America last year, making her a second year at your university. Her features stood out from the crowd, with brown skin and large curls that framed her face in a halo. She was really quite beautiful. Tia, but called Bean by her friends, which now included you, made you feel welcomed to campus and you were thankful for her.

Wanting to not scare her as you walked into the kitchen, you gave her a greeting. Her head pops up from where it was buried in her phone, which had been drawing her into her own world.

“Hey chickie. Long day?” she asks. Apparently your exhaustion was pretty obvious if she could tell right off the bat. You sigh, bending over to pull some vegetables out of the fridge.

“I just want to know who let me schedule four classes on Tuesdays. They should be in jail,” you complain.

She gives you an amused look, watching you now stand at the cutting board to prepare your food. “I think that person was you, sweet thing.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. If I could go back in time and slap my past self I would,” you grown with your head tipped back. She lets out a laugh at your expense.

“Don’t laugh at me unnie! I’m going to pass away from exhaustion over here!” you try to say seriously, but can’t help but let out a little giggle. “What were you doing with your head buried in your phone, huh? Are you talking to someone?” you tease, pointing your knife at her with your other hand on your hip.

“Why, do you wish it was you?” She wiggles her eyebrows, giving you a side smirk. You knew she was deflecting, so you lift your eyebrow and give her a flat expression, waiting for her real answer. “Ugh, it’s nothing. There was just this really cute girl in my class today, and I tried talking to her but she didn’t really seem like she liked me… and I may have just been looking at her social media,” Tia admitted.

Now at the stove, stirring your dinner, you look over your shoulder to say something that would hopefully ease her anxiety. “You know that you can come on strong sometimes, maybe she’s just a little shy, ya know? Maybe try again with a softer approach,” you offer. “What is there not to like?”

She gives you a wide grin to match your own at your last remark. You both giggle, any tension in the air from Tia’s concerns gone. Dinner now finished, you grab two bowls and serve you both. You both slip into easy banter, almost like you two have been friends for years. You hope that you will be, someday.

[hargrove-mayfields]

this was requested by @deardmvz ! based off of this lovely post!!

Billy is released from the hospital a few months after he’s out of that place, having been dragged back to his own world a bloody mess by a group of government men in hazmat suits.

They said he was lucky to have spent as long as he did in a toxic environment and come out of it only needing a weekly breath treatment and a couple of bandages. But he knows it wasn’t luck.

Because if there was such a thing as lucky, Billy Hargrove was not it.

Rather, it was because he’d learned how to give the monsters over there what for. Didn’t hide and come whimpering at the first signs of rescue, begging for their protection like everyone was expecting him to after dealing with monsters and breathing polluted air for six months.

Six months. He couldn’t believe that. To him, on the other side, it had felt more like years.

But he’d stumbled out of that place all the same, dripping axe still gripped tight in hand, in case this was his mind giving up, in case his hell wasn’t really coming to an end after all, and in the end, he was tougher, more resilient, unafraid.

But the doctors didn’t really believe that, did they?

As soon as he was given the clear in the emergency room, onced over for physical injuries he’d thankfully avoided and the doctors having given him something that made him cough up most of the gross stuff that’d been collecting in his lungs, he was sent straight to the psych ward.

Because he could kill as many monsters as he wanted, and he could spend months as a survivor, doing what nobody before him had been able to without super powers, but he was never going to be able to shake the isolation, the uncertainty of everyday he spent over there. Not without help.

The upside down was a no man’s land, he didn’t have the time of day to think about what he’d done, who he’d lost, what had happened to him. But the moment he’s free of it, he’s back to reality.

Back to being the kid down on Cherry, with years of baggage to carry even before all this interdimensional bull that he’d never worked through. With a sister who thought he was dead, and a father who probably wouldn’t care less whether or not he was.

They see all of that, so he pushes them away, refusing every attempt the nurses make at helping him. He doesn’t want their help anyways, he doesn’t want to be in the hospital anymore, and he sure as all hell doesn’t want to be a part of some government conspiracy.

But with enough personal questions and screenings, they’re able to, a couple of weeks into the program, coax it out of him, working him up to the breaking point and the following outpouring of guilt.

Pushing him to admit things about himself he’d never had to look in the face until that hard shell he’d had to build up to protect himself from monsters of all kinds since he was just a kid dissolved away, and he was left a sobbing mess in a support group, going on and on about having chased his mother away, how he was working on chasing his little sister away.

About the way he treated his peers and the way he let others treat him. About Heather Holloway and everyone else and how he’d killed them.

Straight away they get him in to see somebody, something he doesn’t really like the sound of at first, but they say they’re willing to release him from the psych ward if he agrees to go regularly, so it’s worth a shot.

That is, until he realizes he has nowhere to go except back to his house. 5280 Cherry Lane, where Neil Hargrove, the very first monster he’d ever had to fight, would be waiting for him.

He tries to get out of it, to go back to who he was before he’d let all this stuff get to him, but it doesn’t last. He’ll bark out nasty things at the nurses and refuse to cooperate when they get to trying to evaluate his head again, but there’s no bite behind it, and he can’t keep it up.

That seemingly infinite well of hatred and pain had been drained by his time on the other side, until he just didn’t have it in him to be angry all the time anymore.

Billy tucks his tail and goes to the shrink, signs the release papers at the hospital and goes straight to that first appointment like he isn’t terrified of what will happen the minute they let him go home for the first time in forever.

Some part of him knows it’s no different than what he’d already been dealing with in intensive care, but there’s still something about being out there on his own, shooed away from what had become his sanctuary after escaping just to have some government approved doctor tell him he’s mentally unwell, that doesn’t sit right with him, and he walks out of that office even more nervous, more jittery to return than before, but he can’t avoid it forever.

The house isn’t too far from downtown where the office is, so he just walks home. He thinks of stopping at a payphone and call ahead, to let them know he’ll be coming home, but he hasn’t exactly been carrying pocket change with him, and he thinks it might be better if they’re not expecting him anyways.

It’s bitter cold outside, a dusting of snow on the ground making him walk slow over slippery sidewalks, unused to the conditions, but it’s the most fresh air he’s gotten in a long time, out in the kind of cold he can appreciate.

Over there, it was a clammy kind of cold, the type that clung to his skin and seeped into his bone, like he was under water. But this is different, the sun shining overhead taking off some of the bite, a cross wind that blew his hair back in his face and made the tip of his nose go numb.

By the time he reaches the door, he still doesn’t know exactly what he’ll say. How does one go about breaking the news to their family that they aren’t really dead?

The general idea is this: ring the doorbell, hope against hope that Neil isn’t afraid of zombies, appeal to his inner anti-government conspiracy theorist, and pray that he’ll buy it for long enough not to shoot him dead and maybe let him inside.

First step goes smoothly, and he’s ready to move on to blocking punches in the case of a kinemortophobic, but when the door is yanked open, it’s not his dad, and the rest of the plan goes out the window. It’s Max that answers, and before he has time to even process that, she wraps her arms around his torso in a hug tight enough to knock the wind out of him.

He doesn’t know what to do, this wasn’t what he’d been anticipating, so he kind of just, awkwardly pats her back and tries to ask her if he can come in, but all she does is squeeze him tighter.

Susan peers around a corner in the house, “Max, who was at the…” They lock eyes, and she trails off, a mix of relief and apprehension and maybe something like fear on her face. “Bring him inside, dear.”

Max pulls away and lets him in, wiping at stray tears with her sleeve pulled up over her hand. She waits for Billy to sit on the couch, and sits down right next to him, pressing into his side. “Where were you? We watched you die.“

“Wasn't me.” He eyes Susan, trying to communicate to Max that this was top secret, don’t tell your step-mom immediately after leaving a government facility information, but Susan chimes in.

“She told me everything. After what happened she was too upset to remember her agreement. We both signed the NDA.”

And for a second that pisses him off. Not at Max and Susan, but the agents who knew what was happening and still had the nerve to bring them in to threaten them without even bothering to mention he was still alive.

Right now that’s the part he tries to focus on. That he was still alive, and had better things to worry about than what he couldn’t change. “It was a clone. A fail safe made by the shadow in case your merry band killed me. When he died, I was trapped.”

“In the upside down?” Max’s eyes were wide as could be, the color drained from her cheeks. “But-but that almost killed Will and he was only there for like, a week.”

“Do I look like a scrawny twelve year old kid?”

“Muscles can’t protect you from toxic air, jerk.”

Susan’s looks frantic in that way she used to around Billy’s dad, who is notably not present, as she scolds, “That’s enough, Max. He’s been through a lot to get here, let’s let him ask some questions.”

It wasn’t like Billy really minded Max’s questions, he was sure he’d have quite a few himself if it was Max who had come back from the presumed grave, but he did have one of his own sitting heavy at the front of his mind. “Where’s Neil? He get his work schedule changed or something?”

“He’s gone.” Max deadpans.

At her tone, Billy feels his stomach drop, his heart stutter. “He died?”

“Heavens no. We got a divorce three months after we buried you, or what we thought was you.” Susan looks at Max tired, remorseful. “He was never the same without you.”

Things had been close to boiling over even before everything, he worried who had filled his shoes. He nods towards Max. “How bad was he?”

“Better and worse. He never laid a finger on us, but he was…”

An overdramatized shiver runs through Max as she finished her mother’s sentence, “Creepy.”

Susan nodded in agreement and explained, “So nice, so reserved, it was like we were constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“And he’s not coming back?”

“Why should he? He didn’t even tell us where he was going.” Max scoffs, missing the implication of what he asked. Seeing her still be so clueless made Billy infinitely grateful that Susan had finally given his old man the boot, even if that meant he was somewhere in the middle now.

He figures that was something he was willing to deal with if it meant Max was okay, and Neil wasn’t anywhere near her. Now he just needed to know if Susan would be expecting him to go find his dad on his own and move in with him.

He doesn’t mean to let as much tension into his voice as he does when he asks, “So what’s all this mean for me?”

“What else? You are never leaving me again, asshole.”

So it was settled, and judging from the look Susan gave him, she agreed with Max’s answer. Which was, overwhelming, to say the least.

Not that Neil had exactly been a family man, but the fact that they were willing to accept him back into their home without him around was more than Billy knew how to process just yet.

His room had already been converted into a storage space as Neil had been moving out, dragging everything that had never been unpacked in the first place out into the one space he viewed as disposable.

They thought he was dead, he couldn’t have expected them to keep his room the way he left it, and though it did sting a little when he found out half of his stuff was missing, either taken by Neil or thrown out in the process, it was soothed by Max giving him a box of all the things she knew were the most important to him, having snuck in and gone through his belongings herself.

Billy decides to let Susan keep her little storage room, it had been too drafty in there to make for a decent bedroom anyhow, so he moves into the carpeted corner of the basement, which he notices is finished now.

Before, the ceiling had been wide open, half built wooden slats coated in years of dust and cobwebs, a single exposed light bulb offering the only source of light. Now it looked like an actual room, and it made him feel something tight in his chest.

Because Neil had retiled and painted the upstairs bathroom when his first wife left him, and he had finished the basement when he thought his son had too.

Billy doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about his dad anymore. He’d been dreading the moment he would have to walk through the doors of his own house out of fear and hatred of that man, but learning he wasn’t even there, he almost missed him.

Almost. But then he thought about the way Susan and Max were now, so distinctly different in the comfort they exhibited in their own space, no longer having to constantly cower in fear of the overbearing head of the house, the person he’s free to be now that Neil isn’t around, and suddenly he’s not so remorseful.

Though he does catch Susan once, standing in the kitchen one morning and crying over an old photo of her and Neil.

He’s pretty sure, from the glimpse that he gets, that it’s from the first church registry photoshoot they did as the Hargrove-Mayfields, when the photographer had mindlessly said something like “now just mom and dad,” making both him and Max gag, which made Susan cry after it was over.

That night had been her first taste of the real Neil Hargrove when Billy got a beating in the parking lot. He still remembers the horrified look on her pale face as she told him it was alright when he apologized, snotty nose and bruises on his skin.

He knew the feeling was the same for her, torn between the man they needed Neil to be and the man he had actually been to them, so he pretended not to see her tears. Silently, she agreed to do the same, and ignore the way he sometimes sat in Neil’s chair with a glazed over look in his eye, or sighed and trained his gaze to the floor when he passed the family photos still hanging in the hallway.

It takes a long while for the three of them to settle. Max is a constant ball of excitement, reminding Billy so many times a day that she’s happy to have her brother back that he might just cry about it once he’s alone, and Susan and him are nervous 24/7, pinballing off one another as they try and fail to forget the ghosts of the house.

He thinks about leaving for a while, moving in somewhere all on his own, but his therapist tells him it’d only make things worse now, to lose his support system. Besides, he didn’t have a penny to his name, so it wasn’t like he had much of a choice but to just suck it up and stay with the Mayfields.

In the meantime, he gets himself a job working stock at Melvald’s. They had an open position after Mrs. Byers skipped town, and he thinks they would’ve hired just about anybody to try to get back on their feet after the now demolished mall almost put them out of business, even zombie boy 2.0. His boss is understanding enough, doesn’t say a word when he has to go into the back and have a panic attack when a grieving family member comes in.

They tell him that’s what’s best for him, getting out there and doing something, even if it’s not the something he would ideally be doing at this point in his life. It had never been his intention to stay in Hawkins after graduating, he wanted to go to college back in his home town, but he had to admit it was growing on him some, and setting up roots there was supposed to be good. Maybe that was just the fact he wasn’t allowed to leave talking though.

The guy they’re sending him to, he thinks is somewhat of a quack. His advice is shaky at best, and he treats Billy like some kid, giving him tasks and a reward system more fit for Holly Wheeler than an eighteen year old with enough trauma for the whole town.

So even though he does cooperate, does everything last thing the guy asks of him, he doesn’t particularly feel the need to go beyond that, face the deeper set issues his therapist doesn’t even know about.

Billy’s lack of cooperation makes the whole thing more complicated, gives him less that his therapist can tell him to work on, so he asks him just to talk to Susan.

They’re closer now than ever before, far beyond all the tension and avoidance and misplaced resentment, but they still don’t really talk about any more than what’s necessary. Things like, how was your day, could you help me with this, are you okay, but nothing substantial.

It should be easy, they’d been living under the same roof since he was twelve, so they should have plenty to talk about, it just never seems like the right time, though he has been thinking about it a lot, the way he treats her despite how much she’s done for him.

He doesn’t really have a plan to bring it up, he’s fully prepared to go back to another appointment the next week reporting no dice, but there’s one morning where the clock keeps ticking and the both of them are still wide awake in the living room, like a stalemate of who’ll give in to sleep first.

They both look like they need it, Susan’s hair is frazzled, the bags under her eyes as dark as the coffee she drinks. Billy knows he’s not looking so hot either. He doesn’t remember the last time he could go to sleep without his subconscious taking him back to that place, so he doesn’t even try anymore, just waits until he gets so exhausted he’ll pass out into a dreamless sleep.

He doesn’t know what it is that compels him to say anything, because it’s not awkward or even tense silence really, but he does, his tired voice cutting into the quiet.

“I dunno how to make it up to you.” He’s looking down at his hands, at the barely there scars that still litter the skin there. He thinks for a moment about how much worse it could’ve been, before looking to her. “I mean, I’d get it, if you didn’t want me around.”

Susan looks back at him, not having expected him to say anything really, let alone something so heavy. “What’s this about, Billy?”

“M’not even your kid, Sus. I just- I dunno. Why’d you let me back in?”

She looks baffled. “Should I not have?”

“I’m an adult. don’t need to be moochin’ off my ex-stepmom.” He feels like he had the very first time he ever met her, scared to look her in the eyes, only this time for an entirely different reason. “M’not your burden to carry.”

“Honey, you’re not mooching. You go to work, you help around the house, you help me with Max. That’s more than I could ask for.” She hesitates, unsure of how wide his boundaries are, then adds, “And, maybe you aren’t my son by any stretch of the imagination, but you will always be Max’s brother.”

He had been expecting something about his dad, always had some suspicion that he’d forced a dependent on Susan after he left, but the total opposite seems to be true, and that makes a lump rise in his throat.

In the absence of a response, Susan continues, “If there was one thing you could do for me though, I know you lie to your therapist. Don’t.”

He doesn’t have it in him to fight it, has enough sense about him to know she’s right. All he can manage is a breathless, “Okay.”

She pats him on the shoulder gentle as can be, and stands up from the couch. He doesn’t look up as she retreats to her bedroom, afraid the tears that had welled up in his eyes would spill over if he did.

When he hears her door close softly is when he lets the tears fall. It’s still a lot for him, to have someone be so casual in looking out for him in that way he still hadn’t quite grasped was possible.

The very next day Billy fesses up, and to his surprise, they don’t immediately cart him off when they hear he’s been faking. That had been his biggest fear, with the power that these people held. They’d threatened to lock him up if he ever ran his mouth, so he didn’t know what to expect.

He did feel stupid though, opening the damn for the same guy who gave him stickers for taking his meds about all the things he’d bottled up. But it works to get him into a better program than what they had him doing before, and he realized he’d had it backwards.

The fear of what they were going to do to him kept them from doing anything at all, and it gave Billy a deep sense of relief, that he’d finally broken free of that.

So instead of being assigned things like brushing his teeth or going outside for five minutes a day, which was decent advice, but completely irrelevant to what he needed, now his therapist had started telling him things like throwing out the razor blade he’d been saving for a rainy day, dumping the last of the nonprescription pills he kept in his night stand.

The more he did, the more complicated they got, until he was told that, in exchange for completing his tasks, he would only have to visit the office once or twice a week instead of every day. His last assignment before that could happen was to make amends with his past.

The most obvious thing the doc wanted him to do was forgive his parents, but Billy didn’t know where to even begin on that one, or really, if he had or hadn’t already done as much, so he went with the other way first, apologizing to everyone he had, or felt he had hurt.

He started at the cemetery. Max came with him and held his hand as he broke down graveside, begging his repentance for all the people who’d died last July. Talking to their survivors was strictly out of the question, they still thought he was the hero that tried to save as many as he could and was killed in action, not the one responsible.

That had been the story spread it the public by the people who had known all along he wasn’t really dead, monitoring his activity on the other side while they turned murderer into martyr. The more time he spent in the shrink's office, the less sure he was that even he knew what side he was on.

Apologizing to the living proves to be easier. He starts with the Sinclair kid at one of the weekly nerd meetings Max holds at their house, now that it’s safe, pulling him aside for a few to say his piece, which, judging from his reaction, Max had already done most of the heavy lifting for him.

When they came back he got fixed with a glare from the unfamiliar little girl that was always around these days, and he realized he and Lucas had that in common, a weapon of a little sister.

Next came minor inconveniences, people like Tommy who he used as a punching bag just because they were friends. Most of them blew the whole thing off, they were in high school when it happened, didn’t understand the moral dilemma of it all, and everyone but maybe one kid who he might’ve punched a little too hard when a fight broke out after football practice forgave him.

Last on his list, the one person standing in the way of what was supposedly the next step of his healing process, was Harrington.

Steve’d had his own fall from grace, and Billy fell much, much harder than he had, so it could be the easiest apology he has to do, but there were reasons it might be the hardest too. He didn’t think he deserved forgiveness for the way he’d treated Steve, which he’d never even apologized for in the first place, and it seemed like a cheap shot to be doing it now, more than a whole year after beating his face in.

He tracks him down at work, rifling through shelves lined with tapes he wasn’t interested in until he had the guts to approach the counter and ask Steve to follow him outside. The bastard doesn’t even look suspicious, doesn’t hesitate in giving him his warmest smile and inviting him behind the counter instead with a, “What’s on your mind, man?

It should be awkward, uncomfortable at the very least, they're having a conversation that should be happening anywhere but in two folding chairs behind the counter at Family Video, and yet, Billy feels none of that unpleasantry, just a conviviality he’d never expect to have with Steve Harrington, of all people. T the one apology he’d expected to be turned down is accepted with a simple, “It’s okay, Billy.”

That’s what made him different. He wasn’t like Tommy, who’d told him to forget anything ever happened, or Susan, who was adamant that it wasn’t his fault; Steve actually forgave him without ignoring what he did, and that, that was what this was about.

He finds himself frequenting the video store on his off days, trying to make friends with the one person other than Max he felt like he could trust, who trusted him, and from there it turned to swinging by Steve’s place after work, going out on the weekends together, falling head over heels in love.

That last part Billy tries to deny, tries to rationalize that maybe he’s just clinging to something constant after so long in isolation, but the longer he spends around Steve, the more he knows there’s no way around it. Billy was so gone for him and his stupid hair and his stupid laugh and his stupid little family video vest.

There’s a while where he tries to distance himself a little, feeling guilty about crushing on the only person to extend the olive branch back after he got out, but then Steve starts showing up at his door, and Max would hide a guilty smile behind her hand.

Once summer hits, just a few short weeks shy of the anniversary of when the shadow got Billy, Susan and Max get more and more careful around him, like they don’t want to set him off, and he gets that. Sometimes Max or one of her little friends would mention something that had happened last July, a sort of ‘hey, remember when we,’ and he would get a little, off.

Never violent, never cruel, never the Billy he had been before, just, reserved.

He thinks they’re afraid he’s going to snap. That they’ve gotten the wrong impression from all this recovery stuff. The very last thing he wants is for Max to think just he’s a shmooze, faking being better to get on her good side.

But they’re not. They’re just want to give him his space, after everything, and he knows he’s got to get out of his head about it.

For now though, when he’s afraid he might break his promise, he takes off, but it depends on what kind of day it is where he’ll go. Sometimes it’s the pool, at the picnic table on the other side of the fence, or to the cemetery again, making the rounds between all of the markers, the ones he put there, or even to visit the totaled Camaro, sold to a junker and kept in the corner of some private property, his blood still on the seats.

Once, he’d made the mistake of going to the steelworks, just to sit on a railroad tie outside of the place for hours, having a panic attack alone as he tried and failed to forget bad memories, bruised ribs, falling fast, losing control.

None of those were particularly healthy places for him to be spending his free time, so per therapist recommendation, he starts finding better spots to hang out, places that weren’t just a way to retraumatize himself.

The problem is that in Hawkins, there isn’t anywhere really to go unless he wanted to spend all day in a dingy old diner or in half abandoned shops downtown. He liked taking Max to the drive-in on the outskirts, but the point is he needs somewhere to go away from his step-family.

When Steve finds out about his new assignment, the rides to and from work and quick drop ins just to say hello turn into days off spent at the quarry together, nights spent in front of Steve’s huge TV set.

One day after a double shift at Melvald’s, they end up out back by the pool. The air conditioning in Steve’s old house was not the best when it came to humidity, and Billy doesn’t like to be too hot. Something about the feeling is too familiar, too much like being on the floor of the sauna, sweating bullets and pleading for his life.

Heat is also one of the many things that triggers coughing fits, making him hack up his lungs from the months he spent without clean air to breath, so Steve’s ushering him outside to dip their feet in the pool and get out of the stuffy old house before he gets sick.

The smell of chlorine wading off of the pool isn’t all that much better. The strong chemicals make his nose and his throat and his whole chest burn like fire. Just the smell of it is enough that he has to try to remember that that hasn't been his reality for almost a year now, that he isn’t in the storage room at the pool downing bottles of poison.

It doesn’t bother him so much though, because the bad stuff, that’s all in the past now, isn’t it?

He tries instead to focus on the good things, on the breeze that they do get in the beating down sun and the way it carries cool air off the surface of the pool, offering more relief from the heat than they could get inside Steve’s inferno of a mansion, and on feeling the sunshine warming his skin again, the cold water and the smooth liner against his calves submerged in the pool. He even tries to focus on Steve, leaning all his weight back on his hands outstretched behind him, sitting so close to Billy their knees bump in the water every time Steve kicks his legs out.

And quite frankly, it’s not particularly hard, paying attention Steve with the way he’s practically glowing in the summer sun. As much as winter was his season, his forever pale skin and how he could rock a sweater didn’t even hold a candle to the way he looks now.

Maybe he is wearing preppy khaki shorts and a sun visor, but the way his back freckles in the summer, the skin on his cheeks and his shoulders flushing from the heat, his long hair sticking to the back of his neck with sweat, it’s a sight that makes Billy's heart pitta-pat.

Still, as nice of a view as Steve makes for, nothing can distract him from the nagging feeling that has Billy on edge. That sense that his flesh will start burning if he stays out here too long, that he’ll lose control of his body. That he’ll hurt Steve.

If Steve’s old nail bat propped against the pool shed, or their newer method of self defense, a machete from the hardware store purchased after Billy's last panic attack, hidden underneath of the chairs, offer any indication, the feeling may be mutual.

Despite the aviators perched on Billy’s nose, Steve must notice that distant look in his eye, because he offers Billy a quaint smile and, using one hand to stand up, he announces, “Be right back, gonna go get us some stuff.”

Billy nods and vaguely wonders what ‘some stuff’ means before turning his attention back to his surroundings. Back to following his therapists advice and watching the ripples in the pristinely kept water, listening to the rustle of untrimmed grass when a breeze comes through, bumble bees in the neighbors yard, anything at all that might stop his mind from wandering.

He’s almost feeling grounded again when he feels a chill run down the back of his neck. Goose pimples fan out across his skin, a deep seated cold to contrast the heat. He knows the feeling well, he’d gone through six grueling months using it as his only advantage over the monsters out to get him.

Some rational part of his mind tells him it’s just a bead of sweat rolling down his back, a loose strand of hair from the messy bun Max had put in his hair that morning brushing against his skin, the fact that his legs are still submerged in the 70 degree water, but he isn’t feeling rational after that, and he feels panic setting in again.

He wants to go run and tell Steve, wants to grab something to defend himself, but he can’t, he’s just, frozen to the spot.

The feeling is gone as quickly as it came, but everything else feels different now.

The pool water feels sticky and warm, almost like it’s sucking him in. The cement surrounding it feels rougher against his palms, and so hot to the touch. He’s scared to even blink, afraid that on the other side of that calm darkness, he’s in that hell again, and this has all been some delusion.

There’s a bang from behind him, and he’s on his feet, heart racing a thousand miles a minute. He’s just short of reaching for the machete under the chair when he notices it’s just Steve.

He’s standing by the sliding door, having pushed it open with his knee so far that the glass hit off the other door, and balancing way too much. Feeling like his legs are going to give out from under him and bringing one hand absently to his chest, Billy breathes out, “Damn it, Harrington.”

“Sorry.” There's a sheepish smile on his face, which has gone pinker than even the sunburn with a hint of embarrassment. He has a bulky radio balanced on his hip, a glass of something in each hand, and a deck of cards tucked under his chin. “A little help?”

Hurrying up the steps, Billy takes the radio before Steve can drop it and smash it to bits on the concrete. Steve takes the opportunity to explain himself, “I made lemonade, my gramma's recipe, and I thought we could use something to do.”

Maybe it’s reckless, maybe it’s the exact opposite of what he should do, but he puts the radio on the table and lets Steve distract him from that creeping feeling with mundanities.

It’s almost funny, how getting out of the house for him used to mean partying and sneaking out to wreak drunken havoc on the town. Now it meant sipping lemonade and playing double solitaire and go-fish with the fallen King poolside, like he was in some retirement community or something.

The only thing that kept him from feeling too ridiculous was the radio, which was playing a decent selection of rock music, not too much of the glitzy stuff he pretended not to like or the poppy stuff Steve definitely did.

Once the sun went down, the smallest bit of orange and pink sky disappearing behind the thick trees, and all the breeze had died out, they moved away from the pool's edge to the plastic chairs, pushing two together and sitting cross legged so they were facing one another. The night air was thick with the smell of a burning citronella candle and chlorine.

The cards had been long ago abandoned, both of them favoring just being in each other’s company, swapping stories of how bad work had sucked that day, and things like plans for the week. Billy sort of just likes having an excuse to look at Steve all night.

It’s more calm than Billy’s had in a long while since coming back, and he almost get to appreciate it before the chill comes back, this time accompanied by the distant rustling of leaves.

He could’ve pretended it was just a critter moving around or the trees settling, but then they hear the unmistakable sound of a monster's trill further out in the woods, and there’s no longer any doubt about it.

Steve freezes, looks to Billy with eyes as wide as saucers and, slowly as can be, reaches blindly behind himself until his hand closes around the base of the wooden bat, which had been moved closer as night fell.

He rises to his feet, stopping cold when the chair creaks as his weight lifts off it, trying to make as little noise as possible, an action mostly pointless with the radio still on. It’s too late anyways, they’d already been seen. Billy could feel it.

“Stay here. I’m just going to check it out.”

“No way, out of the two of us, I’m the only one who’s ever killed one of those things.” Steve looks like he wants to argue, wants to be noble and brave like he has to be for everyone else, so Billy tells him sternly, “I’m coming with you.”

And maybe Steve doesn’t refuse his help, but he isn’t looking at Billy either. His gaze, empty and exhausted, is trained on the trees, searching for signs of the monsters they’re both used to handling on their own. He leans into Billy’s side as they start into the woods, and he can feel him shaking.

The leaves and twigs all along the ground that crunch under their tennis shoes as they move deeper into the woods sound impossibly loud, drawing enough attention to their location that this was guaranteed not to be a surprise attack.

Billy would’ve preferred it that way, they were easier to kill if they weren’t expecting a fight, but he supposed he should just be grateful that they’d found them before they could make their way into Steve’s backyard and take them by surprise.

They reach a clearing and he gets a dreadful feeling like his entire body has been dipped in ice water, and he knows they're right in the middle of a swarm. Instinctively, he puts his arm out across Steve’s chest. “Stop.”

“What?” Billy doesn’t respond, but as Steve’s eyes adjust, he notices them too. About six or seven demodogs, behind trees and bushes, hiding from their prey. He whispers harshly right into Billy’s ear, “Do you think they see us?”

“No shit.”

“Then what the hell are they doing?”

“Waiting for their chance. But we’re not gonna give it to them.” He digs the heels of his Chuck’s into the dirt, grip tightening on the machete. He glances over at Steve and tries not to think too hard about the apprehension written across his features, “You ready for a fight?”

Steve pales, like he was never expecting it to get that far, but they were about thirty feet, maybe further, into the woods already, they wouldn’t be able to book it back to Steve’s house in enough time. The damn things were much too fast. He swallows hard, whispers, “How do I kill one?”

“Aim for the base of its skull. Never let it get your weapon in its mouth. Always pay attention to your surroundings.” His voice is quiet, but stern, trying not to let any fear slip into his tone that might make the other boy more afraid. He was the experienced one, if he were to let it show that he was scared, Steve might go running for the hills. “And Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Plant your goddamned feet.” Steve nods, furrows his brows and tries to force a breathy chuckle at the call back, but he barely manages a huff, and Billy can tell he’s terrified.

They don’t have time to think about it though, in the middle of a swarm he can’t let him dwell on it for too long, so he turns his attention off of Steve, and whistles, shouts “Hey, assholes! Come and get us!”

There’s a breathless second where the dogs don’t move an inch, he can tell Steve is about to say something that could’ve gotten the both of them killed so he cuts him off, “Get ready, Harrington.” One of the demodogs, he’s guessing the leader of the freakish pack based on the sheer size of it, shrieks, the cue for the others to start charging them.

These ones are fast, probably faster than even he’s used to, and he doesn’t like how close the first one gets to Steve before he brings his bat down it, so he pulls him closer by the back of his shirt, presses their backs together so there’s less room for a surprise.

The big one comes after Billy, the bigger threat of the two. The sense works as a two way street, if he can tell where they are, they can tell where he is, and they don’t like that.

It only takes him a few swings to get it stumbling, two more to finish it off, but in the time it takes him to kill the one, he loses track of where Steve is. Frantically he looks around, taking note of the location of the dogs, until he finds him in the dark a few feet off from where he is, swinging his bat at the runt over and over, making sure it was good and dead.

And Billy would be impressed, except for there was another dog charging him, just a few seconds off from closing its teeth around Steve’s arm on the backswing. It’s too close for him to try to kill it, so he kicks it, making it hiss and tumble across the muddy ground.

Steve looks over at him, blood spattered on his face and fear in his eyes. Billy wishes he could stop and appreciate the close call, but it’ll come back, and there’s another charging from the other side, so he settles for shouting, “Just remember what I told you and you’ll be alright!”

With the biggest out of the way it’s easy pickings, Billy takes out the next one that tries him quick, but another catches him off guard, clamps it’s teeth down hard on the machete, lodging it in its mouth. It gets cut bad, but not enough to really do much damage to it. If he lets go, he’s defenseless, if he doesn’t, he’s going to lose his arm.

That’s a call he’s almost willing to make, wrenching his weapon free at the risk of getting himself bit, but he doesn’t have to, because Steve takes it for him, running over from somewhere and bringing the bat down hard on the back of its head.

It would be too distracting to thank him, so he just nods his way and turns back to the last two dogs still alive, Steve taking the one that was still hiding and leaving the other for him.

At this point, he’s feeling pretty confident, one dog on its own is nothing much to worry about, and it seems it knows it too, because it stops a few feet off, daring him to come at it first. He takes his own advice and plants his feet in the dirt, daring it right back.

It charges him, and he stabs it straight through its head. It was a weak one, a last line of defense they didn’t expect to need, and it hisses out it’s final breath after only one go.

Billy hears the one Steve went after scampering off too, judging from the uneven drag of its weight across the forest floor, hurt badly enough it won’t last long.

He tries to feel for any others, but they don’t travel in packs that big, not without an order to follow. He rolls his shoulders and relaxes his stance, but he doesn’t dare dream of letting go of the machete yet. Even as it drips sticky slime and gore in thick drops onto the ground, even if it feels so heavy in his hands, also splattered with gooey blood.

There’s a moment of disturbing calm, the bodies of maimed demodogs scattered all around them as Billy tries to remind himself that they’re in his world this time, instead of him in theirs. He closes his eyes to shut out the panic and just listens.

Listens for gentle reminders that he’s in the real world. The sound of the katydids in the trees. A stray breeze rustling the leaves, dry from the relentless heat. The distant scratch of tires on pavement. Softly bubbling water from the jets in Steve’s pool.

He notices that the radio is still going, making the whole thing feel somehow more eerie, as if interdimensional monsters lurking in the neighborhood wasn’t bad enough on its own. Like when a car goes off the road, still playing a reckless teenager's final anthem. Billy wonders what song he’d like to be playing when he died. Maybe some Misfits.

But he isn’t dead, not yet anyhow, and that’s not the music that’s drifting out to where he’s still standing stock still in the woods, waiting for reality to hit him.

REO Speedwagon with Can’t Fight This Feeling carries softly out to their location, probably one of the lamest songs to fight monsters to if you were to ask Billy.

I can't fight this feeling any longer

And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow

What started out as friendship has grown stronger

I only wish I had the strength to let it show

Though he’s got to admit, it’s not a horrible song for this thing he has going with Steve. After that close call of the dogs stalking so close to his house, Billy doesn’t think he has it in him to let the chance to bring it up with Steve slide through his fingers again. He’d never forgive himself.

I tell myself that I can't hold out forever

I said there is no reason for my fear

“Harrington.” When he opens his eyes again Steve isn’t there, and for a second he’s got to fear the worst. To wonder, if the dogs aren’t the only thing he’ll find dead. “Steve?”

'Cause I feel so secure when we're together

You give my life direction, you make everything so clear

“M’here, Bill.” He's leaning against a tree, his bat still held close at his side, looking winded, but alright, from what Billy can tell at least. “Just needed to, to catch my breath.”

And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight

You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night

And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might

“You scared me, asshole.” Billy gathers his courage, rides the wave of adrenaline to take a step closer, until he’s hovering right in front of him, dangerously close, to say, “Listen Steve, there's something I’ve been thinking about for a while, and after this I just, I can't fight it anymore.”

He gets the memo, half-lidded eyes focusing on Billys lips, making him flick his tongue across them on instinct, tasting remnants of strawberry chapstick and lemonade dulled by the scent of copper. “Then don't fight it.”

And I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

It's time to bring this ship into the shore

And throw away the oars, forever

Their weapons are tossed to the ground before Billy closes the small gap that was left between them, ignoring all the muck and goo and blood splattered on their clothes and their skin to cup the side of Steve’s face, kiss him as soft and as sweet as he knows how after a fight like that.

'Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

And if I have to crawl upon the floor, come crashing through your door

Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore

Steve pulls away too soon, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he leans forward, forcing his weight onto Billy. The magic of the moment comes crashing down, when he notices how dreadfully pale Steve is, even in the darkness of the woods, untouched by street lamps or moon light.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Through gritted teeth, he mumbles into Billy’s shirt, “I think one got me.”

“Jesus, you're telling me this now?” He helps him lean back against the tree again, feeling he has the right to fret over him after a first kiss. “Where at?”

“My leg.” He says it so casual, Billy’s expecting nothing more than a nick, a last attempt at a scratch from a dying dog, but it’s bad.

Skin and muscle are torn through in a gash probably five inches long on Steve’s leg, deep enough he swears he can almost see bone. It’s already bruised dark, deep purple and black under all the blood, and bent just a little, like the bone had been cracked, but not quite broken.

Billy has to fight the urge to wince, to gag, to let any sort of panic over the severity of the bite show, because he knows Steve hasn’t seen it yet, that he’s maybe even in shock right now. The moment he let it show how bad he thought it was, Steve could pass out on him. Or worse.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Thought we were having a moment.”

“Well I’d like to have at least a few more, if you wouldn’t mind.” He sighs, but he drops the attitude. Stressed as he may be, Steve needs him level headed right now. “Can you walk?”

“Sure, yeah.” Something about the way his voice sounds like he’s struggling for air makes Billy not believe him, but he offers him his arm to let him test his weight anyways. It doesn’t go well, “Son of a mother bitch!”

“Yeah, I’m gonna take that as a no.” Billy figures it’d be better just to come back for their weapons later than to wait around for a second attack with an injured Steve, or to get sliced to ribbons carrying them and Steve back to the house. Because that’s what he’s going to have to do, from the looks of it.

He bends down and lets Steve wrap his arms loosely around the back of his neck, and hooks his hands under his knees to lift him. With his leg off the ground, he’s guessing Steve must catch a glimpse of how badly it’s torn up, because he throws his head back and mutters an “Oh shit.” to the stars.

Billy wishes his voice sounded more certain when he assures him, “You’ll be alright, just don’t look at it.”

There’s blood dripping from Steve’s leg on the grass, all on the concrete steps from the backyard that lead into Steve’s house and then the hardwood floors. Billy tries not to think about how they’re leaving behind a trail that would lead the monster straight to them.

They’d killed the dogs though, so he tries his damndest to believe that his biggest worry right now would be not being able to get the stains out before Mr. and Mrs. Harrington got back.

“Where do you keep the first aid around here?”

“Upstairs bathroom, third door on the right.”

Billy frowns. Trying to get him up the stairs was going to be awkward, the space between the wall and the banister so narrow, and Steve’s legs so long. The only way he can keep from dragging his wound against anything, which he’s almost positive would kill Steve at this point, is to turn sideways.

It feels like it takes forever to get up the steps and walk down the upstairs hallway, dodging side tables and potted plants until they reach the bathroom.

Even once they get there, Billy winces, taking in the tall, but thin door frame. “M’not fitting through here with you, Stevie. Gonna have to let you down.”

“Okay.” His jaw tightens, like he knows it’s gonna be hell to put pressure back on his leg, and Billy thinks about how he’d rather knock out the entire wall than have to watch Steve hurt himself.

But slowly, with Billy’s help, he gets his good foot back on the ground, and his arms unwrap themselves from the back of his neck. Billy keeps one hand holding tight on his hip, to keep him from toppling over while standing on one leg.

“Let me go in first, okay?” Turning around so they’re facing each other, he gives Steve both of his hands and kicks the half opened door the rest of they way open to reveal the dark bathroom behind him. He gets Steve to use the doorframe as a brace long enough that he can turn the light on, then gives him his hand again.

Steve takes the first step, hopping on one foot and making barely any progress. A steely look crosses his face, like he’s already decided what he’s about to do, and he lets his other foot down to the ground.

“That’s it, Stevie, just like that,” Billy mutters little encouragements under his breath, tries anything to keep Steve from thinking about walking on a broken leg. “Keep it coming, baby, just a few more steps.”

The closest thing to the door is a double tiered wooden shelf with magazines and towels on it, so Billy pushes the towels onto the floor with one hand and helps Steve sit down on it with the other.

Maybe it’s the wallpaper, but his complexion looks ghastly, all green and grey where he should be flushed and lively. Before he starts getting everything together, Billy puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You good?”

It was a stupid question, Steve scoffs and says, his voice strained, “No.”

“At least you’re honest.”

Steve groans and stares up at the ceiling, ignoring his leg and the puddle of blood spreading on the tiled floor. “Shouldn’t I be at the hospital right now?”

“Normally, I would say yes,” Billy crouches down by the sink, digging in the cabinets underneath it for the first aid and a rag, “But closest hospital to us is the general hospital, and they’re not going to be thinking about demodog infections. They’ll put a cast on this thing and kill you.”

“Oh.” A poor choice of words, because Steve whispers, “I’m not gonna die, am I?”

“Not if you let me take care of you.”

He soaks through three wash rags with blood before the bleeding slows down enough that Billy can clean it, and slowly the shocked state of mind he was in starts to wear off. At least, judging from the way he’s gripping the edge of the shelf he’s sitting on so hard his knuckles turn white, it’s starting to hurt him pretty bad.

But Steve stays agonizingly quiet as Billy works anyways, hardly even wincing, despite the obvious amount of pain he’s in. Billy clicks his tongue, “I know you’re holding back on me, Steve.”

“You’re one to talk.” He’s defensive, borderline hysterical. “Mister pretending to be tough just because you’ve been through this once.”

“Next time I’ll just let the dogs get you, then.”

Ignoring Billy's rudeness, Steve mutters, “It just hurts so fucking bad.” A tear he’d been trying to hold back slips past, running a track through the dirt and blood that had gotten on his face.

“I’ll get some pain meds in you in a minute, just need you to be alert for this.” 

He swallows thickly, like he’s scared. “Ready for what?”

“Well, you’re gonna need stitches.” 

“Do you even know how?” 

He didn’t. The most he’d ever sewn was a tiny hole in a jacket sleeve, but he didn’t feel it wise to tell him that. “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.” 

“No way. Absolutely not.” Steve grabs his hand tight to emphasize his point. “You are not coming anywhere near me with a needle.” 

“Look, the alternative is it gets infected and you lose the leg. Or, you know, since nobody has ever survived a bite, your life.” He’s not trying to be snappy, but the more blood Steve loses, the more nervous he’s getting about wasting time arguing.

“Man, could you cut back on being an asshole for like, five minutes.” Billy rolls his eyes and tries to reach for Steve’s leg again, but he pulls away from his touch, blinking real slow like he made himself dizzy or he’s getting sick, before he tacks onto the end, “I’m wounded.” 

“I know, I'm just trying to help you, Stevie. Please.” 

Sighing and running his fingers through his hair, he puffs his cheeks out with a sigh and gives in with Billy’s pleading. “Whatever, just, get it over with quick.” 

He goes back to not saying anything, biting his tongue while Billy tries to do a decent patch up. It looks somehow even gnarlier than before, with crooked and sloppy sutures, but it stops the bleeding for long enough that Billy can wrap it as tight as he can with some gauze and an ace bandage.

He sits back on the balls of his feet, and takes note of how they were definitely going to have to go to the government hospital where he’d been treated in the morning. Steve’s quiet so he asks, “Steve?” 

“M’good.” He assures halfheartedly, leaning forward to hold his head in his hands. “Doin’ just peachy fucking keen.” 

They stay upstairs, Billy completely unwilling to try to get Steve back down to the main living room on a busted leg. He'd have to worry about showering and getting the stains that’re all over the Harrington’s floors off later, right now he was just worried about making sure Steve made it through. 

There’s a second living room, a foyer, Steve calls it, at the end of the hall, so he takes him in there, lets him sprawl out on the couch while he goes to get a phone and something for Steve to take from the first floor. 

He snatches up the rotary off the coffee table, and goes digging in the medicine cabinet for pain killers. Near the back is a bottle of Vicodin, thank god for Mrs. Harrington’s many ailments and her equally surplus supply of pain pills. 

Before making his way back up to Steve, he remembers to make sure to lock the sliding doors. Not that it would do much to really stop a demodog, but it’s the thought that counts. He decides to tack a blanket up to block the glass too, in hopes that it might make their scent at least a little harder to track. 

Steve is hesitant to take his mother’s prescription, afraid of the side effects, but then he tries to drag his leg up from the floor to prop it on the coffee table so he can get more comfortable, and his mind changes right quick. He almost convinces Billy to let him take more.

Next is letting somebody know. Part of him wishes they could just sweep this whole thing under the rug and forget it, but this was a small town. The woods behind Steve’s house stretched all the way to the now empty Byers’ residence, to the Wheeler's, and from there to Hop’s cabin. 

Keeping this a secret would cost lives, that he could be sure of. One measly pack of demodogs weak enough to be taken out by the two of them was guaranteed not to be the last. This was the start of another battle, and they needed as many people as possible to be ready for it.

He sits down with the phone next to Steve on his own cushion, careful not to jostle the couch too much. “Do you know Hop’s number?” 

“Just give it here.” 

Billy watches Steve dial the number, not a fan of how instinctual an action it seems to be, and as he barely gets a word in edgewise over Hopper on the other end of the line. When he get the chance to breaks the news, the call is over almost immediately, Hop getting ready to warn everyone else. He hangs up with tears in his eyes and a defeated posture. 

The instant the phone is discarded on the side table, Steve tells him, his voice thick with tears and exhaustion and pain, “I don’t wanna do this again, Bill.” He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and shakes his head. “Just, last time, we were so close to losing Hopper, losing you, and I just- I can’t do it.”

“Hey. Look at me, Steve. It's not gonna be like last time. You got me now.” Steve does look over at him, his eyes wide, but he only cries harder. 

Not knowing what else to do, Billy tosses an arm over his shoulder and pulls him close, and Steve leans into his touch, but there’s a deep frown on his face. Billy thinks his heart breaks clean in two as he insists, in a voice so worn, so dejected, “That’s just one more thing for me to lose.” 

“I say it’s one more person looking out for you.” His heart fluttering in his chest, he prays the kiss in the woods wasn’t a heat of the moment thing, and presses another to the side of Steve’s head. 

As best he can with his leg up on the coffee table, Steve settles up against Billy's side, sighing heavy through his nose. 

Long enough passes that he thinks Steve’s fallen asleep, the pain meds would hopefully knock him out soon, but then he breaks the silence with a quiet, so gentle Billy almost doesn’t hear it, “Will you?”

“Will I what?” 

“Look out for me?” The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s embarrassed to ask, so unable to believe that somebody would care about him instead of the other way around. 

“‘Course.” Billy smiles despite the way seeing Steve so broken makes him feel, lets the fingers on one hand trail lazily up and down Steve’s arm in a way he hopes is comforting. “Even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight, remember?” 

Steve rolls his eyes, but he presses himself somehow even closer to Billy and sighs a little laugh, sniffling. “God, you're never gonna let that go, are you?” 

“Hey, I’d rather remember our first kiss as being to REO Speedwagon, which is super lame by the way, than with you bleeding out in the woods, so.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve sits up a little straighter so he can look him in the face. There’s still some sadness in his expression, but there’s a hint of a smile too, and Billy will take that as a win any day. Teasingly, Steve says, “Maybe you’ll like the second one better.”

“We’ll just have to see won’t we?” He leans in, but it’s Steve who initiates the kiss this time, leading with more heat behind it than before. He tangles his hands in Billy's hair, deepening the kiss with the press of his tongue against Billy’s. 

The angle isn’t very comfortable, a crook forming in Steve’s neck to reach Billy, and they pull apart for a breath. Face flushed beet red, Steve whispers, “Hey, Billy?” 

Billy hums in response, too flustered to get his words in order, “Hm?” 

“REO Speedwagon isn’t that bad.” 

[kiwikyuu]

━━━━━━━ the perfect blend ; tendō satori

summary — barista!tendō can't stop thinking about you

word count — 808

genre — headcanon ; coffee shop au, fluff

warning(s) — cursing, not edited

a/n — ahaha okay but can y'all imagine tendo and ushijima as baristas/cashiers at a coffee shop? like ushijima's 6'0 clueless intimidating ass trying to take coffee orders during rush hour? i'm crying real tears right now

so let's say tendo is in college, working at a local coffee shop by campus to make some extra money for his tuition

he usually works the espresso machine but per order of grumpy ushiwaka whose dad owns the coffee company rip, he ends up taking the register for just one day

little did he know though that the first person he'd end up having to serve is someone that he finds absolutely breathtaking that's you boo uwu

you were a classmate in one of his general classes, and after a small group project and being paired with you for a presentation, he had fallen head over heels for you and your little cute quirks

"you're as whipped as the cream we serve," came tsukishima's quiet remark in passing as you came up to the register to place your order

secretly he's happy though

"h - hey y/n"

you were going through your bag searching for your wallet when you heard your name being called, and lo and behold when you saw tendo. you couldn't have gotten more flustered

because spoiler alert: you like him aka the bold red headed guy who shows up to class with treats he's made himself to share too

"i didn't know you worked here," you said, hoping your cheeks were only warm and not noticeably so

he shrugged, hands shaking trying to act nonchalant "yeah, ushijima and me both haha"

*semi awkward silence ensues before manager kuroo sends tendo a text message that reads "get the fuck to work. yer holding up the line with all that bad flirting"*

"sooooo, what can i get for you today?"

and so began a little ritual between the two of you where tendo takes the register every week according to your schedule so he has the opportunity to talk to you that much longer

if anyone noticed the flush in both of your cheeks every week which even baker lev of all people had noticed they didn't say anything

kuroo even had a bet going with one of the other managers akaashi for how long it would take for y'all to get together kuroo put 20$ on within a month and akaashi scoffed before putting 30$ on within two weeks

honestly you two are so cute

tendo always manages to write something on your paper cup sleeve before handing you your order

literally you're so confused because when did he find the time between taking orders on register and helping tsukishima and rookie barista goshiki with different drinks

little do you know tendo actually has a stash of sleeves he snatched from work that first time he saw you so he can write you messages at home i'm SCREAMING isn't that so cute??

"you mocha me crazy (from ur fav redhead)"

"i cannot espresso how wonderful you are -10do"

"hope u bean well. good luck on ur exams haha -tendoremifasolatido"

without a doubt each one puts a smile on your face because hello??? this is tendo??? he's everything and more

BUT ANYWAY back to your regularly scheduled program the good stuff...

barista tendo plans a whole thing to ask you out which includes roping in stoic ushijima who is surprisingly happy to help "when you're happy, you do well at work and good work means good business according to my father" and baker osamu "what do i get if i help?" "half my tips for the day"

so the day finally comes and kuroo's grumbling because he now owes akaashi 50$

you end up coming in during a slower time for the coffee shop courtesy of tsukishima suggesting that you come in then since it's less busy because tsukishima couldn't resist tendo's bugging is a nice person

"hello y/n. nice to see you today," came ushijima's quiet voice

you smiled. "hey, i didn't know you were working register today."

"ah... yes, i am." silence. "y/n you should try a latte today. they're... very good."

"oh." you nodded as ushijima seemed very motivated today. "okay. i'll take any latte then."

and so tendo started scheming working on your drink while having osamu prepare his part

before long, tendo serves you your order himself in person coming out from behind the counter to where you had sat at a table

a vanilla latte (that ushijima had decided would be good) decorated with a pattern of hearts from the milk foam, a specially baked bread formed in the shape of a heart, but no note

instead, tendo sheepishly looked at you as he set it down and before you could say you hadn't ordered anything besides the coffee

"i like you a latte y/n... do you want to go out with me?"

of course you say yes and maybe after his shift you two go on a small date for some food or something uwu

[thadelightfulone]

All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 13

A/N: Yes, this is another update since I fell behind. ENJOY!!! Back to our regularly scheduled program later this evening. 

December 6th

DeeDee swore off going out with her friends for a while. Phyllis was getting on her nerves and Beverly could only do so much. DeeDee didn’t even understand the hostility that was coming from her best friend. And now was not the time for her to be stressed out by shit she couldn’t control, like her best friend’s actions and reactions. So, it was time for a break and to focus on more important things, like her defense presentation. 

She had chosen her PowerPoint background weeks ago. She drafted her presentation outline weeks ago. But she hadn’t yet put any of it together, even with all the time she spent in the library. Then again, the last time she was studying there, she found Erik’s note.  

“Oh crap,” DeeDee grabbed her phone off the charger and saw multiple messages from him.

Prince Erik: Good morning Miss DeeDee

Prince Erik: I hope you have a good day and get some rest. You definitely need it. 😘

Prince Erik: Good night DeeDee

Prince Erik: Enjoy your day Miss DeeDee 

Including a voice message, “Damn.” 

VM: Sleeping Beauty

Do you know that you talk in your sleep? I learned quite a bit from you when you fell asleep mid-sentence last night. 

Don’t worry, I won’t hold any of it against you...unless that is what you really want. Then what the lady wants, the lady gets. 

I won’t tell you how long I stayed on the phone after you knocked out, but I’m sure that your phone probably died after I ended the call. 

Whenever you get up, hit me up. I have some questions for you, pretty lady. 

Later

After that eventful night out with Beverly and Phyllis, all she remembered was drunk dialing him, him answering the phone and then nothing else until she woke up late the next afternoon with a dead phone. She put it on the charger, but never checked any of her alerts and went right back to sleep until this morning.

DeeDee picked up her phone and went to her recording app. She didn’t want to flood his phone responding to his texts. And since he usually worked on weekends, she decided to send him a voice message instead. 

She walked over to her patio door, opened the curtains and sat down at her desk. DeeDee opened up her laptop and pulled up all the documents she would need. It was time to get to work. Less than 2 weeks until D-Day. 

---

Erik looked down at his phone for the umpteenth time that day and then walked the floor. It was weird, he hadn’t heard anything from DeeDee since he hung up on her Friday night. She was gone gone and yet, she still tried to talk to him. A sleepy drunk. He thought it was cute but he knew that hangover was gonna be a killer. 

He hoped that she was ok. He still sent his usual text messages but he also sent a voice one because she said somethings that had him thinking. And it is said that ‘a drunk mouth speaks a sober mind.’ If that holds true, DeeDee laid herself bare in the most beautiful way, and yet she may not remember any of it. What a shame.

Erik moved to stand by the window of his office, while DeeDee’s words took up residence in his mind. He stopped focusing on his weekly reports an hour ago. His impression of DeeDee and the reality that each day his feelings about her being the one for him became stronger and stronger, cradled her very words to him from the night before. 

A loud buzzing sound against his wooden desk, halted his wayward thoughts. He walked over and picked it up. It was a voice message from DeeDee. He unlocked his phone and opened it. 

VM: Greetings From Louisiana

Good morning Erik, 

I can’t believe you let me go to sleep on you the other night and didn’t say anything. Anyways, since I have no recollection of what I said, take it with a grain of salt. Please and thank you. 

Sorry for not responding to anything yesterday. I just slept the day away in recovery. Nothing stronger than wine for me for a while.

I do hope you are free to talk tonight. I may not have much time over the next week or so as I prepare my final presentation for my dissertation. But I really enjoy talking to you and don’t want to miss out. 

I’m probably rambling again. So, yeah. Just let me know if you have time and we can go from there.

Byeeee

Her voice always brought a smile to his face. He logged off his computer, grabbed his briefcase and locked up his office. He would have stayed there if she called, but since she didn’t, it gave him the perfect out. He could work from home and still talk to her until she needed to go. 

---

DeeDee had just finished putting her talking points into her presentation file, when her cell phone rang. Erik. He must have gotten her message. She saved the file and opened the application. 

“Hi Mr. Erik.”

“Hello Miss DeeDee.”

“I missed hearing that.” She said shyly. 

“Oh, you did? Could have fooled me.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what? I’m not the one who said hi, some other stuff and then passed the hell out on the phone.” He shrugged even though she couldn’t see it. “I mean, I know I can put you to sleep, but that is not how I would do it.”

“You know what?” She started to laugh.

“What?”

“I can’t stand you.” 

“Uh huh.” His voice was calm. “Lie again Miss DeeDee.” 

“I’m not. I mean it.” DeeDee stomped her foot on the floor. 

Erik laughed, “If you say so. But I think you feel differently about me.”

“Sir, remember I do not know what I said. I don’t remember anything after calling you.”

“And slurring my name?”

DeeDee groans, “So, that did happen?”

“Heeeeeeey Erik,” he mimicked her tone. 

“Oh my god.” 

“It was cute though. It lets me know you were thinking of me even when you were completely out of it.”

“I promised to call you when I got home.” 

He paused, “You know what, you did honor my request to hear from you to let me know that you made it home safely.” 

“Exactly.”

“So, it seemed like you had a very fun evening.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t say that.” DeeDee sighed, “One of my best friends who seemed excited for me to look for you, is now acting really funny towards me and I don’t understand it.”

“Funny how?”

“Well, can I share something with you?”

“DeeDee, you know you don’t have to ask that. If you want to tell me anything, I will listen.”

“Thanks E.” She curled her legs under her in the desk chair. “Remember how I said that I knew my career would take me away? You know traveling and experiencing the world and such.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I haven’t told anyone that I have applied for tenure-track positions far away from Louisiana.” She exhaled deeply. “I got upset when she said that I would never leave here, among other things. But at that same time, it hit me that I never told them that I wanted to leave. So, they have just always assumed I would be around for whatever.”

“I see. So, what about your other friend who was with you both.”

“Oh, she’s fine. They both want me to live life, but she is the only one who appears to really support it. So, I know she will be fine when and if I do leave.”

“You mean, when you leave.”

“From your lips, to God’s ears. I have gone through many interviews, but the waiting game is a lot for me to deal with.”

“I understand that. But just focus on your defense. The full-time position will come.” 

“I know, and besides, there is always a postdoctoral fellowship too. And those look great on CVs.”

“Exactly. You can apply for one of those and work at another school until you find the school that fits you.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But Dr. O and Dr. Bell both think that I don’t have to worry and will get an offer my first time out.”

“I believe that, too. You are a bright woman, DeeDee. Any school would be lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, Erik.”

“You’re welcome.” Erik took a deep breath, “Speaking of Dr. Bell. I will be at her retirement party in a few weeks.”

“Really?” DeeDee squeaked into the phone, “I am so sorry that I keep yelling in your ear like that.”

“It’s ok. I knew to pull it away this time.”

“So, what does that mean?”

“Well, I was hoping that we could meet and you let me take you out while I’m in town. What do you say?”

“I would love that.”

“Good, so it’s a date?”

“It’s a date.” DeeDee giggled.

Taglist: @teakturn @ghostfacekill-monger @shaekingshitup @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @woahitslucyylu @ladymac82 @bugngiz @eyeknowmywrites @ajspencer1892 @arafatih @issimplyaamazinggg @tchallasbabymama @killmonger-fics @beautifullmelodyxx @raysunshine78 @fd-writes​ @ljstraightnochaser​

[deathlikesdeep-dish]

Onigiri (Bokuto x Akaashi)

Hello!!

Took a break from my regularly scheduled One Piece programming to write a quick fic for my best friend’s birthday.

Happy 27th, girl! It’s been about 12 years since I gifted you a fic so seems like it’s about time to circle back to it. (oh god, i’m on the same shit that i was when i was 15, someone HELP)

no warnings! slight angst, mostly FLUFF.

It had been 6 years since Bokuto had seen Akaashi last. After graduating Fukorodani together, the pair had gone their separate ways. Akaashi had stayed in Tokyo, working as a copy editor for a small manga company. It had always been Akaashi’s dream to write manga, so when the offer came in, despite how menial the job would likely be, he could not turn it down. 

But Bokuto had asked him to. It was one of the last conversations that they had. 

6 years prior

“Akaashi, c’mon, you can’t be serious,” Bokuto protested. “You’re going to work there? Going on coffee runs and fixing people’s punctuation?”

After practice was over, Akaashi and Bokuto walked home together, as was their evening ritual. They were practically neighbors, and it was tradition, particularly after practice, to get rice balls on their way home and eat as they walked. Although, there’d been a slight shift in their dynamic in the last few weeks. It was not as easy or casual as it once was. There was always this energy vibrating between the two of them that neither could exactly figure out. A few nights prior, Akaashi’s shoe had caught on a raised edge of the sidewalk, causing him to tumble forward. Bokuto, quick on his feet, had grabbed Akaashi’s arm to steady him, inadvertently pulling their bodies closer together. They didn’t understand why the flow of energy seemed to multiply with the contact. Or why either of them felt drawn in by it, hypnotized into closing the gap between them. 

A car had sped by, the sound startling them both out of their delirium. Akaashi had mumbled a lame apology and the two hadn’t spoken about it since. That, of course, didn’t mean that they had not been replaying the scene in their minds almost constantly. 

“It’s a step in the right direction, Bo,” Akaashi responded quietly, taking a bite of his food. Bokuto ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. He stopped mid-stride in the middle of the dimly lit sidewalk.

“A step in the right direction?” Bokuto questioned. “And what direction is that exactly? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you’re turning down the amazing opportunity that you have in front of you. Traveling around the world and playing volleyball with your best friend? Why would you pass that up?” 

Akaashi fought the urge to yell. He gritted his teeth.. “It was a pity offer and you know it, Bokuto. That coach only offered it to me because he wanted you. I’d probably be on the bench all season.”

“I’d fucking kill them if they did that!” Bokuto yelled. “You’re way too good to bench! It totally wasn’t a pity offer. You’re amazing, Akaashi, and coach’ll see it soon too.”

Akaashi fell silent, looking away from Bokuto. “I’m not going. I don’t want to. I don’t give a shit what that coach thinks about me. Volleyball was never in the cards for me after high school. Not like it is for you, Bokuto.” 

For the first time in their friendship, Bokuto didn’t have an immediate response. There were so many questions. So many things that Bokuto didn’t understand about the change between him and his best friend. There were so many things that he wanted to say.

I want you to come. 

I want you to come travel and play volleyball.

I want you to come travel and play volleyball with me.

I want you to travel with me.

I want you with me.

Please don’t leave me all alone, Akaashi. I can’t do this without you. 

I think I might love you.

But Bokuto said none of those things out loud. Confused, hurt and scared, the words Bokuto chose instead were, “Goddamn, Akaaashi, you’re such a self-centered prick, you know that? All you ever think about is yourself and what you want. I gave so much to this friendship over the years, and you won’t even consider it. Glad I wasted all this time.” 

From the look on Akaashi’s face, Bokuto knew that his words had cut through Akaashi mercilessly. And despite the pang of guilt that Bokuto felt, he did not take the words back. In fact, he doubled down on them.

“You know what, you’re right. It is probably better that you stay behind. I can’t have all your negativity weighing me down all the time.” Bokuto finally concluded.

Akaashi could feel his heart drop deep into his gut, the aching sadness a satellite pain that crept into his limbs, to the very tips of his fingers and toes. Had he imagined something between them that night? Had Bokuto not felt the same pit of anticipation deep in his core? There were so many things that he wanted to say.

I want you to stay here.

I want you to stay here and play volleyball while I write manga.

I want you to stay here and get rice balls with me after your practice.

I want you to stay here with me.

I want you with me.

Please don’t leave me all alone, Bokuto. I can’t do this without you.

I think I might love you.

But Akaashi said none of those things out loud. Instead, Akaashi said “I don’t even know why I ever became friends with you. I wish I hadn’t.” 

Bokuto could feel his heart wrench at Akaashi’s words. But he dare not cry, though he felt the moisture creeping up to the corners of his eyes and a tell-tale tightness within his chest. It was the worst thing that Akaashi could have said to him in that moment. The one thing that would rip Bokuto apart at the seams. 

“I should be going now.” Bokuto finally said, as if the last sentence had not been spoken. “I leave on Friday for Europe. We’ll be training for a few months and then traveling over to the States.” 

“Have a safe flight.” Akaashi replied simply. Bokuto nodded.

“Bye ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto said quietly. 

Akaashi did not reply. And though there was no way that either of the boys could have known this, each of their parting thoughts that night were I think I might be losing the love of my life.

Present Day

It had been 6 years since they’d seen each other. But one day in early summer, as fate would have it, they would see each other again. This coffee shop was the one that Akaashi frequented when he needed a quiet place to sketch. Though he had all of his materials at the office, the constant badgering was not always conducive to creativity. It was also somewhat off the beaten path, which suited Akaashi, as his notoriety had risen with the publication of his now very popular original manga. 

Akaashi also liked the coffee shop because it was situated in such a way that he could sit in the corner of the shop and see down both sides of the sidewalk, which made for excellent people watching. Sometimes, he’d sit for hours and sketch faces. Faces of the customers that came in or the people that sat at the bistro tables along the sidewalk. He’d capture their expression and movement, drawing them in his own style as practice and inspiration for his manga. 

Pinching his brows together, Akaashi took off his glass before rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. 

“Akaashi?” A voice questioned from his right. He froze. He recognized that voice.

It can’t be. He slowly lifted his gaze, following the direction of the voice. 

“Akaashi!” The voice said again, this time with conviction and excitement. 

Akaashi’s eyes soon fell on the smiling face of Bokuto Kotarou. With a grin, Bokuto rushed over to where Akaashi was seated. Akaashi was in shock, his jaw agape as he took in the form of his best friend. 

“B-Bokuto?” Akaashi managed, the name strangled in his throat. He hadn’t even spoken the name in years. 

“Holy shit, it really is you ‘Kaashi!” Bokuto loud voice boomed in the small cafe, earning a few annoyed glances from the patrons and the little old lady who owned the shop. Akaashi looked over at her apologetically, and though she pursed her lips, she nodded quietly and went back to her work.

“Yeah, Bokuto, it is,” Akaashi replied as Bokuto closed the gap between them, allowing Akaashi to take in Bokuto’s full countenance. He’d gotten broader in the time that he’d been away, his shoulders, chest and arms all more filled out. This was all particularly noticeable as he was wearing an old Fukorodani t-shirt, which pulled more tightly over his torso than it had the last time Akaashi had seen him. Bokuto propped his elbows on the table casually as he sat, drawing Akaashi’s eyes to Bokuto’s muscled forearms. Akaashi felt himself flush a little, and withdrew his gaze with a subtle cough.

Bokuto’s smile was nearly blinding, and it made Akaashi’s heart do these tiny flips that almost made him nauseous. “What are you doing here, ‘Kaashi? Like what the hell are the chances?”

Akaashi managed to laugh a little. “What am I doing here? I live down the street. The better question is what are you doing here?”

“I’m back in town for a few weeks!” He replied. “The season just ended so I’m taking some down time before practices start back next month.”

A few weeks. Akaashi could kick himself for thinking that this was more long term.

“That’s great, Bokuto,” Akaashi said. “It’s crazy that we ran into each other like this. I...I never really expected to see you again.” He trailed off.

Bokuto’s smile faltered a bit. He rubbed the nape of his neck awkwardly, not knowing exactly what to say.

After a few beats, Bokuto finally said, “I always hoped that we would, ‘Kaashi.” 

Though Akaashi did his best to remain composed, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Six years had passed and yet, Akaashi’s body reacted exactly the same as it had the last time he’d seen Bokuto. He felt his palms sweaty, and his body was flushed with anticipation. He concentrated on slowing his breathing.

“Me too, Bo,” He finally used Bokuto’s old nickname, which warmed Bokuto to his very core. A few moments passed before either of them spoke again, Akaashi unable to meet Bokuto’s intense gaze. Bokuto never took his eyes off of Akaashi, though. He’d been away from Akaashi for too long already. He didn’t want to waste a second longer by being shy.

“Whoa,” Bokuto said after a second, and Akaashi looked up to find Bokuto looking down at the sketch that Akaashi was working on. “Is that what you’ve been working on?” 

Akaashi flushed. No one usually saw his work in the early stages like this. “Uh, yeah...I just like to come here and sketch people that walk by. Good practice.”

“Is that how you came up with Toshiro?” Bokuto asked.

Akaashi was shocked to hear the name of his original character come out of Bokuto’s mouth. “What did you just say?” 

Bokuto tilted his head, confused. “Uh, I asked if that’s how you came up with Toshiro? Why? Is that a weird question?”

“You read my manga?” Akaashi asked incredulously. 

“Well, yeah,” Bokuto replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Kuroo sent me a copy when it first got published a few years ago, and I’ve been keeping up with it since.” 

Akaashi didn’t know what to say. His manga was popular, sure, but only really here in Japan. There had been pretty much no international publications to speak of. Which meant that Bokuto would have had to special order each volume in order to be able to read it.

“I really like what you did with Toshiro in the last chapter,” Bokuto continued. “I feel like I know him, you know? He’s so relatable.” 

Akaashi still didn’t respond, which Bokuto took notice of this time, and caused his concern to grow. “Please don’t be upset, Akaashi...I-I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…” He backpedaled a bit.

Akaashi shook his head. “No, no, I’m not upset at all. I’m just shocked. That you cared enough to keep up with something like that. I know how busy you must be.” 

Bokuto leaned forward, ever-so-slightly moving his chair closer to Akaashi’s. “Of course I care,” he said quietly. “Despite how we left things,” Bokuto paused and Akaashi winced a little as he brought up the painful memory. “I’ve been really proud of your accomplishments. I’m glad you made the choice to stay. I know now it was selfish of me to ask.”

Akaashi met Bokuto’s eyes. His expression was unreadable to probably anyone but Akaashi. There was authenticity, remorse, shame, and maybe just the slightest bit of hope all swirling around in the light brown, almost gold irises. 

“Thank you for saying that, Bokuto,” Akaashi replied. “I haven’t forgiven myself for the things that I said that night. They were all completely uncalled for.” His voice was little more than a murmur.

Bokuto reached out his hand hesitantly, placing it with care on top of Akaashi’s. Akaashi let the pencil slip from his fingers with the contact. His breath hitched as a familiar energy pulsed through the point of contact. 

A long moment passed before Bokuto spoke again. “You feel it too, don’t you?” 

Akaashi’s heart was pounding so loudly that he could barely hear his own thoughts. He opened his mouth several times in an attempt to reply, but the words would not come out.

“Please tell me you do, Akaashi,” Bokuto prompted, a quiet desperation in his voice. “Because damn, I gotta tell you that I haven’t felt it with anyone other than you.”

Bokuto moved his hand slowly, deliberately, to entwine his fingers with Akaashi’s, looking to Akaashi for any objections as he did. There were none.

“Bokuto…” Akaashi took in a shuddering breath. “I-I do feel it.” 

Every word was true. Akaashi had resigned himself to the reclusive lifestyle of an artist. Contented with being alone, Akaashi never even entertained the idea of living a life with someone else. Anytime he envisioned himself with someone, it was always one person. It was always Bokuto.

Bokuto’s eyes warmed at Akaashi’s words. He stood suddenly, pulling Akaashi’s hand with him. “C’mon,” He said, tugging playfully. 

Akaashi stood, grabbing his sketch pad quickly and stashing it under his arm as Bokuto walked across the shop. Smiling sheepishly, Akaashi waved a goodbye to the coffee shop owner, who returned the smile politely.

Akaashi trailed behind Bokuto, trying to get a solid grip on his sketchpad and pencils without letting go of Bokuto’s hand. Bokuto looked ahead with determination, occasionally looking back at Akaashi with a grin.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, falling back into the old honorific without thought. “Where are we going?” 

“You’ll see!” Bokuto replied, laughing. The pair wound around familiar streets, landmarks from their past dotting the way. Though Bokuto did not say anything about it, Akaashi was all too intimate with each location, having spent many afternoons moping around after Bokuto had originally left. Akaashi tried not to think too much about it, as he followed Bokuto. 

It was almost too much to process. All this time, Bokuto and Akaashi had been feeling the same mutual energy, the same mysterious vibration. Bokuto had come to the realization that he was attracted to men many years before Akaashi. In fact, Akaashi had convinced himself that he was not attracted to anyone, nor would he ever be. The fact remained that Bokuto was the sole person for whom he’d felt any attraction whatsoever. Bokuto had tried to rid Akaashi from his mind while he was abroad--had tried to date or have fun with other men, but his thoughts always drifted back to Akaashi’s brilliant blue eyes and soft, dark hair. 

After another few moments of protest, Bokuto and Akaashi finally made their stop. Akaashi looked around, confused for a moment, before recognition dawned on him. The old convenience store they used to frequent after practice. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto pumped his fist in the air. “I’m amazing. I totally remembered where this place was! Remember, ‘Kaashi?” He looked over at Akaashi with wide, excited eyes.

“When we’d get the rice balls?” Bokuto insisted after Akaashi took too long to respond.

“Y-yeah, I remember, Bokuto,” Akaashi stammered. 

“Well c’mon! Let’s go get some now,” Bokuto replied, tugging on Akaashi’s hand and getting some resistance.

“Bokuto,” Akaashi started, a feeling of sadness suddenly washing over him. He had been avoiding this place so long that Akaashi had forgotten it even existed, to be perfectly honest. 

Bokuto’s smile faded a bit. He turned to face Akaashi fully, gently taking the sketchpad and pencil from Akaashi’s hand and placing it on the bench beside them. He took Akaashi’s now free hand into his own. “Akaashi,” He said. 

Akaashi didn’t reply, waiting for Bokuto to continue. His heart pounded in his chest. 

“I fucked up really bad back then,” Bokuto said, casting eyes down with shame. “I know that.”

Bokuto took a tiny step closer to Akaashi, his eyes still focused on their feet. “I can’t believe I said all those stupid things. You were my best friend and I completely destroyed that because I was immature and confused and scared. And I was too fucking proud to apologize, which makes me even more of a jackass.” 

Bokuto’s voice was trembling as he spoke, and Akaashi took in a shaky breath. “I didn’t know then, but I know now. You are the most important person who has ever been in my life, Akaashi.”

Akaashi didn’t realize that he had stepped even closer to Bokuto, the space between them now only marginal. Akaashi could feel Bokuto’s uneven breathing across his cheek as Bokuto continued to look down. “And even though we were just kids, I should have known better than to push you away. I don’t want to do that anymore, ‘Kaashi.” 

Bokuto finally managed to meet Akaashi’s eyes, and he was almost immediately disarmed by their affection. “I think I’m in love with you,” He concluded. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a very, very long time.” 

Akaashi felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Bokuto was horrified, thinking he’d overstepped the line once again. He stepped away, extracting his hands from Akaashi’s and running them through his hair. “Oh my God, Akaashi, I’m so fucking sorry. I keep fucking this up over and over again…”

Akaashi started to try and speak, but knew that once Bokuto was on one of his rants, it was best to just let him be until he was done. Bokuto groaned, apologizing and rambling as he paced back and forth on the sidewalk. 

After a few moments, Akaashi began to laugh, softly at first, but then to a loud cackle. He felt his body consumed by it, doubling over with how joyous he felt. Bokuto looked over with furrowed brows and even messier hair than usual. 

“What the hell are you laughing at Akaashi?? I’ve been here baring my SOUL and you just start laughing at me?” Bokuto’s voice rose in volume with each word. 

Akaashi laughed again and motioned for Bokuto quiet down, as the pair had started attracting the attention of curious passersby as well as the convenience store owner, who was peering at them through the glass window. “Bokuto-san, calm down,” He laughed.

“I AM CALM!” Bokuto yelled oxymoronically. They both paused for a moment before busting out in laughter together. The nostalgia and joy was so heady that they could almost taste it as well as the rice balls they’d come to consume so often. Soon, both men had collapsed onto the curb, leaning against each other for support. 

“I am calm,” Akaashi mockingly imitated Bokuto between laughs, which made Bokuto pout but then laugh more. 

The sun had started to set by the time they both composed themselves again. 

“Bokuto,” Akaashi was the one to speak first this time, placing a hand on Bokuto’s cheek. Bokuto sighed happily and leaned into Akaashi’s palm, turning his face to place a gentle kiss in the center. Akaashi blushed and cleared his throat. “I think I’m in love with you too.” He smiled, relieved to hear the words out loud.

The grin on Bokuto’s face was blinding. He placed a hand behind Akaashi’s neck and pulled him in so that their foreheads were touching. Akaashi’s hand moved from Bokuto’s cheek to the back of his head, running his fingers gently through his hair. 

“C’mere,” Bokuto mumbled before pulling Akaashi in for a kiss. Akaashi smiled into this kiss, feeling Bokuto do the same, as if they were both silently saying holy shit, this is really happening. 

Akaashi and Bokuto felt the energy that had always thrummed between them explode into something much more intense. They were drawn to each other again and again, each moment in their lives, each decision ultimately bringing them both to this place, this second. Neither wanted to part, but Akaashi was the first to pull away with panting breath. They needed to take this slow, he knew, and Bokuto was always the first to rush into anything. Akaashi would have to push the brakes for now. 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, pulling back far enough to look into Bokuto’s eyes. “We have time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Bokuto placed a hand on Akaashi’s cheek, rubbing his thumb gently over Akaashi’s bottom lip. “You’re right,” He agreed, smiling again. “For now,” He began to stand up, holding out his hand for Akaashi to take. “Let’s start with some rice balls.”

[dailyaudiobible]

04/01/2021 DAB Transcript

Deuteronomy 18:1-20:20, Luke 9:28-50, Psalms 73:1-28, Proverbs 12:10

Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m China today is the first day of April welcome. If you are unfamiliar with my voice. I’m China. There’s a start. I am Brian and Jill's daughter. For the past three years I was the voice of the Daily Audio Bible Chronological and I stepped away this year because any day now I’m havin’ a baby. So, gosh it's so good to be here to fill in for my dad. And I mean, it’s kind of Daily Audio Bible tradition to do a little something different on April Fools' Day. And there's…there’s no tricks, it's just me. But it's…it's good to be here with you guys and just to give a little check in and say all is well with me, and baby, and with my husband Ben. We are super blessed by the Lord and just waiting in pure anticipation for our little girl to get here any day that she wants to. April is our due month so we will…we will see when that will be to. So, I have the honor of getting to read with you guys today. Today we  are in the book of Deuteronomy with chapters 18 through 20, the book of Luke chapter 19 starting in verse 28 going to 50, Psalm 73, and Proverbs 12:10 and this week we are in the Contemporary English Version.

Commentary:

Wow, I really love Proverbs today. That’s so good. There is a dog rescue in the town that I live in that is based off of this Scripture. I remember looking it up once and reading this Scripture. So, that is…its profound…it's in God's word. He…he’s saying be kind to my animals. Don't be mean. Don’t be cruel. I made them. I love them. It's so fun reading a different reading plan because really for the past…I mean this the DAB Chronological's fourth year in existence but...so I read it for three years and the year before that I was doing Daily Audio Bible teens and I had experimented, like that was the year to experiment with a new reading plan and I tested out the chronological and fell in love with it. And, so, reading this way is…is very different going from the Old Testament and then jumping into the New Testament and reading Proverbs and Psalms I…I love that. I’m always drawn into the stories of Jesus with His people because it just makes Him feel so much more close and real and even the things that you believing about Him that may or may not be in the fullness of who He is, when your reading the Scripture your Spirit is coming face-to-face with “this is the truth.” And even if you don't believe it, guess what, it's still the truth. And, so, reading about the true glory of Jesus. Like, have you ever been with someone and they’re just like praying and you’re in the room with them and then they turn white? Not only dos their face change but what they were wearing before isn’t what they're wearing now and their shining white. Like, that’s never happened to me so I'm sure Peter, John, and James were all like, “okay. Something insane is happening right now and we are in the true glory of Jesus.” Like, that's amazing and I'm not sure if they really fully grasped that until maybe after His death and they were trying to remember all the…the times that they had with Jesus that they were trying to recall and recount. Like, remember that one time we were all with…you know…it was me and the other two people…whoever’s telling the story and like the fullness of Jesus's glory was upon us? That's…that’s truly like…there isn’t a word for it. It just kinda gives you a little bit of envy, if anything. Like, wow, that’s…that’s what I want to encounter Lord. That’s what I want to be with you in. And here’s the sweet reality is, that’s available to us. that wasn’t just for those three. It's available for all of us. The good news is that He sent us His son, the Lord sent us His son and then after He ascended back into heaven, He gave us His Spirit. So, not only were we set for life but now we’re like really set. When I really start thinking about all those things the week of holy week, which I know that's what we’re in right now. And, so, there's always a lot of emotions that get brought up in my heart just because it's to be reverence, it’s to be revered and held in…in wonder and awe and also just like, man I just don't understand like totally everything that went down but I’m in the mystery of it and I’m in the wonder and the awe of it and I’m learning about who Jesus is and I’m reading about people testifying to the true glory of Jesus. And as if that wasn't like wild enough they…they, you know, like the next day Jesus is healing this little boy and He's addressing people's faith and He's addressing people's humility and wondering why they want to be the greatest and it all is just pointing back to His character, His heart, who He knows He is and what He believes the Father sent Him to do. And I love these stories. I love reading the Old Testament because it really sets you up for understanding that we needed a savior genuinely and we still actively do. And then when we jump into the New Testament and we read about who Jesus is, man I don't know how you can't read these stories and not just completely fall in love with Him because of His kindness because of His is nature because of the authority that He just carried. He didn't need to prove it by being the loudest in the room or by barking certain things. He just was who He was and that was enough. And, so, while we’re in holy week as we come to kind of an end where…where it's like the weekend eve, I like to call it, man may we just really posture our hearts well. We don't have to whip ourselves into some emotions that aren't real, that we’re not like really feeling, but maybe be present and attentive with what is going on in our hearts, what are these emotions that are coming up. And I encourage you just to really read through the scripture that talks about Jesus, His last week, the holy week and allow yourself to really have that wonder and awe. And it's okay if you don’t fully understand everything. Jesus constantly says, “let the little children come to me.” And that’s how we’re supposed to come to Him. And guess what, kids, they don't always super understand everything the first times it’s said to them. And, so, I don't think that the Lord is expecting that you would just totally grasp everything the first time that you hear it or the third time that you hear it. Like He’s patient with us. He understands the human mind and the human heart. He created it.

Prayer:

Father, I just thank You that You are for us. Your word today told us that there are more for us than there are against us, that someone is for us. And I just thank You that You are for us. I thank You so much that that’s the sweet truth and a suite reality, that You are for us, You love us. I thank You that in our conversation this past week talking about how this is Your week You reminded me that this week is for me, it's for us. That's exactly why You did it, is for us. And Lord I just thank You for the beautiful and sweet truth is, that You didn't just come and live a great story and do great things, but You left a great legacy and then You sent us Your spirit and said that we could do even greater works than You. And, so, we just are attentive of our heats, we’re attentive of our minds and we take every thought captive, and we make it obedient to Christ and we choose to be present with You. And as our minds wander may we softly bring them back to You. Lord, I pray that we wouldn’t miss the things of this week, that we celebrate in reverence and honor what happened 2000 years ago. And may we hold this this week in true holy reverence for who You are because You are more than deserving and we thank You for who You are Lord. And it’s in Your name we pray. Amen.

Announcements:

Well, this was so fun. It was so good to be back and reading and man this is like, when…when do I get to come back? I love this and I’ve so enjoyed getting to step in for the day. Like I said, no jokes, no fooling here. Just wanted to come on and thank you all for praying for me and my family as our lives are totally about to change. And, gosh, I'm waiting in anticipation and wonder and awe and trying to come in childlike faith and not have it all figured out, parenthood or even just trying to know when she's coming. That's been the hard part. But we trust the Lord and that’s where our trust and hope is in and just believing for wholeness and health of our family and over our sweet one. And, you know, once she's born, who knows, maybe I'll come back on and be able to have her in my arms instead of kicking me the whole time I’m reading. She is very, very active and was kicking the whole time during reading. So, it’ll be fun to come on and just share her birth story and maybe she’ll make like a little coo or cute little noise or something…I don’t know. I won’t put that expectation on her. But yes, this…this was sweet. Thank you for letting me into your homes or your cars or your workplaces and reading with you. This was definitely a treat for me.

That is all for today. I’m China you. You are so so loved. I will not be waiting here for you tomorrow. Your regularly scheduled program will resume tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi, my name is Crystal I've been listening to the Daily Audio Bible app for about two years, and this is the first time that I've ever called in. So, I would like to say that I would like to have prayer in my life. Just feel like a little bit of a failure with…with my kids lately. I just feel like a little bit. My son turns 18 tomorrow and he's no longer living at my house with my husband and myself due to him deciding to keep lying to us and breaking the house rules and smoking weed in the house and vaping in the house. And we have other children in the home to think of. So, it's been hard to deal with not having him here and then just…I don't think it really hit me how hard that was going to be on me as his mother. I really don't. But just something happened yesterday, and I really ended up kind of hurting my daughter's feelings and been struggling with guilt about it since last night and I think it's kind of been building what’s been going on with my son and I…well my son and the family, not being here, and just more than I think I realized. And I felt like it's kind of been dammed up and now that it's kind of broken with me realizing I hurt my daughter’s feelings last night it just really upset me, and I've been just crying on and off today about it. Just feel…

Hey, my glorious precious DAB family this is Kingdom Seeker Daniel. In the words of the great Victoria Soldier, I'd like to pray for some of the DABbers beginning with miss Victoria Soldier. So, family let's pray. Father I lift up our sister your daughter Victoria Soldier as she has a sister-in-law in Germany that is battling some illness and not feeling well. God, we pray that you will be the balm in Germany for this…this sister-in-law and be with a nephew that is incarcerated and having a tough battle of life. Lord would you show up where this young man is and allow him to hear your voice? And God would you begin to restore on both sides or the sister-in-law with her physical health and then for the nephew with his emotional health. And then for Rob Still Worship Dude in Nashville. Man of God I so appreciate you. The first time I've heard you call in you just you blessed my soul, and my wife Lady of Victory is in her doctoral program. And, so, I kind of know how you feel just watching her go through. So, I pray that the Lord will strengthen you he would surround you, he would allow you to catch up on your doctoral assignments and also he would favor you with that contract…that independent contract that you got going on. And I’m believing that God is causing all things to work together for your good because I know you love Him as a worship dude. And then DABber Danny, lifting up Micah. Lord be with Micah, continue to strengthen and reveal Yourself to him, save him, and do a work in his life in Jesus’ name. Love you family.

Hello DABbers, this is Sandy up in Ontario I've been listening for about 6 years and just introduced this to my friend, my new friend Jill. Can you say hello Jill? Hello. Anyways, we'd like you to pray for Jill's family and her daughters. Pray protections over her daughters, especially her older daughter. It’s kind of private what's occurring but you understand what can happen over the Internet and things do occur. So, we just ask prayer over this entire family and we pray for protection, especially over her older daughter named A. And we ask you also to a blessing over Jill herself that she would be held up by Jesus and that God would simply hold her when the boat rocks. And we thank you so much for Daily Audio Bible Brian and for your family and for the music and everything that you guys do. And we ask you all to have a beautiful, blessed day. Amen.

Good morning DAB this is Mommy's Little Rock from Arkansas. I'm calling today to ask for prayers. A few months ago, I lost my mom in December and it's been tough. It's been hard. God has really been giving me the strength to go through each day, but I've had a lot of anxiety, a lot of fear of approaching life without my mom. It's a weird world without my mom. I'm just asking for prayer to help me to continue on feeling like I can endure this life without her. There are so many things I have to do. I was working on a book and my mom knew about it and I just don't have the desire to complete it. I don't have the desire to do any of my goals any of the things that I know I should do. So, I just ask you all to pray for me and to pray that I continue being strong. I have great family and support and friends and people that my mom left behind to pray for us. But it's not like mom, you know? So, I appreciate and love you all. Thank you. Bye-bye.

OK. I just…this is Beloved in Texas and I just want to share a little bit with you so that you can laugh at my expense but also along with me. And Brian feel free to not post this if you feel like this is inapropes but I just want you all…I just felt the need to share a story to make people laugh. So, I'm sitting at work. I work from home and about to go into a virtual meeting and I’d had a rumbly tummy that day and I thought, well, this is just gas. So, I go to release the gas. Turns out to be much more substantial than gas so I'm sitting there with more than gas and my meeting starts. I had to sit through the meeting in my own mess and pretend everything was OK before I could get up and go take a shower after that meeting was over. That was awful and I laughed so hard at myself because I thought, “what in the world? What is wrong with you? You're a grown person, you hold the job, you pay bills and here you are messing in your own pants.” But I just wanted to share that stupid funny embarrassing story because just because sometimes I think we all just need to laugh and feel free to laugh at me because I was laughing at myself. You all be blessed. I love you. I love hearing from you every day, and I listened to the community prayer and encouragement every week and I'm praying along with all of you and celebrating along with all of you. You all have a wonderful, good rest of the day.

[searchforthescars]

amanda, do you have any advice for someone who's just moved out for college? i moved out 2 weeks ago (i was supposed to move in the fall when school started but covid) & idk i feel so?? lonely? or sad, i guess? i'm a freshman & i was super excited leading up to it, but i got here & i'm in an apartment with 5 strangers & i'm overwhelmed with how many adulting things i need to do, like groceries & laundry & cooking. i always thought i was pretty independent at home & i've also been away for 1/?

summer programs or events for a week, 2 months, etc. so it's not like i've never been away from home before & don't know how to cook or do laundry or stuff like that. idk. i don't get why i feel like this & so overwhelmed (also, i think now i get why most freshman move into the dorms instead of going straight to an apartment haha). my roommates seem nice too, i just don't know them that well yet. i feel kind of silly & pathetic & baby-ish about this since i know i'm so lucky to be able 2/?

to move out, but mostly i just miss home & wanna go back to my parents & siblings & cats, especially since i don't have any friends here yet & can't meet any cause of covid. i'm 18 but i feel so much younger & it's kind of hard to believe that i'm 18?? like ahhhh i'm an adult??? when did that happen?? anyway, i'm sure it'll get better (or at least i'm telling myself it will), but idk what to do in the meantime. any advice?

Hey, kiddo!!

First of all, congrats on moving out -- I’m really proud of you for taking the next right step toward your future. You’re doing great <3

Second, don’t you dare think this is something you’re alone in experiencing; although it can feel incredibly isolating and terrifying, I promise that everyone has felt this way the first time they moved out of their parent’s/guardian’s home. I sure as hell did, and I was 20 with a college degree!!! There’s no shame in it, and I’m proud of you for being able to verbalize your struggles and reach out for help.

These are a few things that helped me when I was living on my own for the first time -- if I had known all this going in, rather than learning as I went, I would’ve had a much better time of it, so I hope these help <3 But if you have any questions or thoughts, my DMs are seriously always open to you, on- or off-anon. You deserve help and support and I’m honored to be trusted <3

Get yourself on a routine. Tbh, half of the reason why things feel daunting (at least in my experience) is that they feel nebulous. To combat that vis a vis household tasks like cooking, cleaning and laundry, I’d recommend setting up a weekly or monthly schedule. Look at your class schedule and any other commitments and figure out which weekday is best for you to do laundry, which nights you could meal-prep for the days ahead, and which weeks you’ll be cleaning your areas of the apartment. Jotting those down or putting some notifications in your phone calendar will help you a) remember to do those things and b) rest in the knowledge that you’ve given yourself some structure. If you feel you’ll struggle with actually doing those things, ask a roommate to be your accountability partner! They live with you, so they likely have a vested interest in you doing those things, and will certainly be happy to help out!

Give yourself something to look forward to. Missing your family is so hard, so plan when your next trip home will be. Plan a movie night or another activity with your roommates (in my opinion, PowerPoint Night is an absolute winner -- y’all can take turns presenting about literally any topic you want and it’s a great way to get to know people and what they’re passionate about (or passionately against).) 

Get a tiiiiny bit social. It’s really hard with COVID, and I know it’s also anxiety-inducing to be The New Kid, but even something as simple as attending a Zoom event hosted by a campus organization can give you a little bit of social engagement -- if nothing else, you’re hearing voices outside of your own and your roommates’! There are also a lot of Discord servers out there for video game friends, students, fandom folks, pretty much anything; the platform offers a streaming function, which many people take advantage of and can be a great way to engage with other people around something you both love. Having that little bit of enrichment is really helpful and goes a long way in making you feel less isolated.

Do something with your hands. Find a tactile sort of hobby - drawing, painting, bullet journaling, digital art, collaging, etc. - and do it regularly. I bullet journal, make stickers, and collage the New York Times Sunday paper once a week. Doing something with your hands regularly is a good way to get your creative juices going and help the time go by, and it often is therapeutic as well.

Exercise regularly. I can’t tell you how helpful it is to get moving. It seriously is good for your mind and body, and you’ll feel motivated to do other things once you work out. I didn’t exercise for the first three months I lived alone and lemme tell you, when I started again, there was a marked difference in my mental health. Go for regular walks around the neighborhood, or if there’s space in your apartment to do some simple bodyweight workouts, the Nike Training app has great free guided workouts under 20 minutes. There are also workout videos free on YouTube, everything from strength training to cardio set to popular Tik Tok songs. I like to exercise about 30-45 minutes a day but YMMV

Treat yourself. I ran myself hard and ragged when I lived alone because I didn’t have anyone to encourage me to do otherwise. Even though you have roommates, it can still be easy to feel like you’re just ships passing in the night and that the accountability they provide extends to chores or other space-sharing ventures. So hold yourself accountable for doing one kind thing for yourself every day. Eat a piece of chocolate. Splurge on a coffee once a month. Buy a book you want to read. Do little things to treat yourself because you can, judgement-free! You’re your own boss now!

I hope these help a little bit!!! It can be really overwhelming and scary to be where you are but I promise, you are farther along than you think you are, simply because you can recognize and articulate these feelings and are reaching out for help. I’m proud of you and sending you all my love -- if you need anything, you got it. I’m here for you <3

[fight-surrender]

The 5 Stages of Wayward Son

 Word Count: 1283

This has been knocking around in my brain since September 24th, but others came along and shared their feelings and thoughts about this book far more eloquently and succinctly than I could. Plus it just hurt too fucking much to think about. I think I even have a draft somewhere on the topic that I started and stopped when this was all fresh.

But then Rainbow Rowell twisted the knife yesterday with her annotated playlist blog post. I started to read it but had to stop. My more emotionally mature fandom friends read it and messaged me weeping.

I know my tears are there, I can feel them under the surface. But through a confluence of life events and experiences, I’ve gotten really fucking good at locking them up. My therapist noted that they’re beyond locked up, I disassociate from my emotions completely. I’m working on it, slowly some feelings are percolating up. When Simon kissed Baz in Carry On, it was like an electric shock to me. I felt joy for the first time in years. That book made me so fucking happy. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why, but I joined up with this fandom, started writing fic, made some of the most incredible friends of my life and counted down to Wayward Son.

Shock, Denial, Isolation- when I googled the stages of grief, stage one was a hodgepodge of these. My heart stopped when I read “when I break up with Baz” in chapter 2 of WS. This was my worst nightmare, the thing I thought Rainbow would never actually do to us. I mean, she teased it, but I just thought…I almost put the book down. But I pressed on, convincing myself it will get better. I dug out an ancient emergency cigarette around chapter 11. My brain on repeat: “it will get better; they will be ok” like a drumbeat.  I was home alone, sitting in my leather club chair with my pets when I finished the book. I’m not sure I’ll forget that spot, that moment. Good God will it be emblazoned into my psyche like 9/11? But at that moment, I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me and I was flat on my face in the dirt. Pure shock. All I could do was ugly cry in my bed while my pets looked on with concern. I isolated. I drank whiskey and ate cheese. I felt pretty insane— still do to be honest. Traumatized from a book? A work of fiction?

I’ve been thinking about it nearly constantly since then. Because I’m disturbed. Ask anyone. I know Rainbow has said that this is a very Baz-centric book, but for me it was all Simon. I needed Simon to be ok. I needed to know that you can go through trauma, where you lose everything you thought you were and that you can recover from that and be loved for what it made you. What you became. Simon’s trauma was my trauma. His worthlessness was my worthlessness. But this was fiction, this is where I get to escape from my humdrums and go to a world where at least someone gets a happy ending.

That’s what fiction is. An escape from reality. I get it, Rainbow, that’s not real life. Wayward Son is supposed to be like real life, but that’s not what I wanted, it’s not what I needed.

Instead, I got what I already have. Sinking dread. Uncertainty. Self-doubt. I wanted to rage, numb, distract. Anything to avoid looking down the barrel of my own sense of worthlessness and what got me there. In WS, Simon Snow gives voice to the troubled whispers of my own brain.  Carry On used to be my emotional support book. Whenever I was anxious or sad, it was like a drug. “And then he kissed me,” “because we match,” were like dopamine hits. Now it feels hollow. It feels like a lie.

This was obviously a case where my expectations were about a billion percent wrong. I was hoping for angst with a happy ending. I got angst with an uncertain ending. In hindsight, I kinda think I would have been ok if I knew ahead of time that it was a middle book. It wouldn’t have been such a shock. But here we are.

I’m legit afraid of Anywhere the Wind Blows. At this point I think Rainbow is capable of anything. I know she maintains that she loves Simon and Baz as much as we do. But does she love them together or apart? Maybe she decides they should just be friends. Maybe somebody dies. I mean, Elanor didn’t get Park. Rainbow said that she’s writing an epic love story: isn’t Romeo and Juliet an epic love story? I simply don’t know if my heart can take it.

I need to take a moment here. This whole piece is a moment—I actually have the house to myself—which is rare—because that’s where I have usually been: alone. I usually face my traumas and falls alone. I’ve been through some shit that would make your skin crawl. I’ve coped and muddled through by myself because I’ve never had any support. Simon has Penelope and Baz—I never had anyone, mostly due to my own habit of isolating and numbing. Until now. This fandom, the friends I’ve made. I don’t know where I would have gone, where I would be without them. I thank them from the bottom of my heart. I love them with my whole heart. Every chamber. (particularly “the moms group”, @penpanoply @vkelleyart and @carryonsimoncarryonbaz )

That’s the crux of it isn’t it? Simon has Baz. He has someone who loves him despite everything that’s happened to him, who loves him on purpose. He has Baz, his soulmate. He has Penny, his dread companion. If he can’t be ok, what hope is there for me?

So anyway, back to the stages of grief, I am currently stuck at stage 2- anger and stage 4- depression. I don’t think there’s any room for stage 3- bargaining. I mean, I’d sell my soul for Simon and Baz to live happily ever after as a couple, but Rainbow has made it abundantly clear that she’s a contrarian and will gleefully do the opposite of what readers wish. I just learned that the hard way with WS. So bargaining is out of the question. In the meantime, I’ll just read fanfiction of them being a happy couple.

I put WS in the place inside me where I put the things that hurt too much: the difficult euthanasias at my job as a veterinarian, when my dog died last year, when my marriage exploded six years ago (I’ve put it back together), a lifetime of miscellaneous hurts and traumas. I need to take these things out of their hiding place. @adamarks said it beautifully in their fic, Oh, Hello, I need to scrub out the inside of my heart with tears and elbow grease and anger and work. I want to put myself back together piece by piece until I resemble something presentable. So eventually I can get to stage 5-acceptance (and hope, but that’s scary as fuck).

I sure hope you haven’t read to this point, because this is all just me working through my feelings about this book and it’s probably mind-numbingly boring. If you did, I hope you found at least a shred of something relatable. If not, I apologize for the wasted time. I promise to go back to my regularly scheduled programming after this. I just needed to shit this log out of my brain so I can move on.

I love you all.

Viv

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Superhero School Part 2

Hey guys, here is part two to the story about Tess and the superhero school. 

Part 1 linked here. 

I mapped it out and this story should finished in one or two more parts. I’ll just finish up this story before going back to regularly scheduled content since I’m on a roll.

Hope you guys enjoy!

“Congrats!” 

A smiling man shook my hand, squeezing just a little tighter than was comfortable. Fortunately the handshake didn’t last long. He handed me my certificate of acceptance, allowing me to awkwardly pull my hand back, and sent me on my way. Clutching the small paper tightly within my fist, I ran away, looking for my best friend. After searching fruitlessly for a few minutes, I spotted a familiar face within the see of anxious children.

“MIA!” I waved the paper over my head, blushing and stumbling to a stop once I realized that everyone’s eyes were on me. I’ve never liked public speaking, and I felt myself shrinking back as more and more attention came my way.

“You’re hopeless, come on!” Mia sighed, pushing her long dark hair out of her eyes with a smirk. Grabbing my hand, she pulled me out of the crowd and into an abandoned hallway to talk. Far from peering eyes, I finally calmed down and caught my breath.

“Thanks.”

“I don’t get it, you always seem fine and confident in one on one situations.” She leaned against a wall, shaking her head. “Why do you turn into a stuttering bundle of anxiousness as soon as we’re in a crowd?

“I told you I get stage fright! But that’s not important.” Again I waved the small piece of paper in the air. “THIS is!”

Taking in the paper and the grin, the smile slowly faded from Mia’s face as her expression became serious.

“You got in.” It was a quiet statement, not a question.

“I GOT IN!!!” I jumped up and down with excitement, unable to hold back a wide smile. “It’s what we’ve dreamed about for all these years, Mia! We’ll train at S.T. high, become super heroes, and help kids like us! We’ll be heroes!”

“…” An awkward pause settled between us.

“… Mia?”

She let out a long sigh. “Here.”

She handed me a similar paper to the one in my hand. Glancing over it, my eyes brightened at the words “acceptance” but my joy quickly faded as I read on.

“LP school program? I don’t understand! You can make fire with your mind!” The acceptance paper crumpled under my tight grip. “Why wouldn’t they accept you to S.T.?”

Mia shrugged, a bitter smile crossing her face. “They said the ‘power output’ was too low.” Her hand rose to eye level, a tiny flame blooming at her fingertip. “Not ‘S.T. material.’”

“That’s stupid!”

“Stupid or not, that’s their decision.” The flame went out, leaving us both to stare at each other in silence for a few moments.

“So what are you going to do?”

Mia’s question surprised me, shouldn’t I be asking HER that? “What do you mean?”

“We promised to train together.” Her gaze was intense, making me want to shrink back and hide. “I can’t go to S.T. High, but you…”

“You want me to give up my spot and switch schools?!” I was stunned. “But…”

She didn’t back down. “You promised.”

“But I…” I trailed off, miserable. I had worked so hard for this chance, would I really give it up? Give up my dream of training here?

“You promised, Tess. Will you come with me? Yes. Or. No?”

“…” I hung my head, not wanting to meet her eyes.

“I thought so.” With a final glare in my direction, she turned around walking out of the school and leaving me to stand in the hallway.

Alone. 

No, not again.

I don’t want to see this again.

I wanted to run forward, to change my mind, change what happened, but it was too late, it was long in the past. I reached out a desperate hand in the direction Mia had run off but she was gone. Everything was fading. The halls, the tiled floor beneath my feet, all fading into darkness. I tried to move but I was rooted into place. I called out to her but my voice made no sound. All I could I hear was the sound of her pitiful, desperate sobs.

Mia? No, please, no!

“I just wanted to be powerful like you.” Her broken voice called out between the tears, catching my breath within my chest.

MIA! STOP! I screamed silently but there was no one left to here me.

“Tess, help me!”

MIA NO!

Flames sprung up around me, licking at my clothes. I couldn’t feel the heat, but I could hear it crackling around me. And then… I could feel the pain.

The pain of being burned alive.

“NO!”

I woke up in a cold sweat, panting for breath. I rubbed my throat, clearing it with a groan as I realized it was raw from screaming. Shaking my head to clear it, I rubbed my right arm, feeling the bumpy surface of the skin where the skin grafts had healed in. I could still feel the pain from my dream, lingering on the long since healed flesh. 

“Mia.” Slapping a hand over my eyes, which burned with unshed tears, I whispered her name once into the empty room, before burying the grief deep inside.

“TESS!” A shouting voice caught my attention as my dorm room door swung open, revealing the red headed boy with a wide grin. He ran through the doorway, coming to an ungainly stop right before my bed, blinking with a confused expression at the sight of me still resting there.

“Why are you still sleeping?!” He waved his arms. “It’s breakfast time!”

I groaned. “Look, Liam, it’s…” I looked at the clock at my bedside. “SIX AM on a Saturday?!!!! Plus, who ever told you to barge into a girl’s room without knocking!”

Liam stared at me, obviously lost.

“What if you had walked in on me and I was… less than presentable for company?”

“Presentable? What, were you…” He looked around, and then continued in a hoarse whisper “Solving calculus problems?”

“What? No! Why would that even…” I sighed. “I don’t understand how your mind works.”

“Funny, my mom says that all the time!” He grinned, pulling out a candy bar from his pocket, unwrapping it, and biting into it with relish.

“…” I got out of bed with a shrug, and dug around for some comfortable clothes to wear. Holding them in my arms, I cleared my throat, pointing towards the door. Liam didn’t notice at first, all of his attention was still on the quickly disappearing candy bar.

“LIAM.” I reached out and pushed him towards the door.

He yelped with surprise as he was forced out of the room. “What?”

“Get out until I’ve changed.”

“Then can we eat breakfast?” He asked hopefully. “I’m starving!”

“You just ate a candy bar.”

“That was forever ago!”

“You ARE LITERALLY STILL HOLDING THE WRAPPER…” I took a deep breath, steadying myself. “Just wait here.”

“But…”

“WAIT. HERE.”

I slammed the door shut, sighing to myself. “So frustrating!”

“My Mom says that too!” Came the muffled reply through the door.

Ignoring him, I walked away, preparing for the day ahead.

 “So what’s the plan?” After breakfast, during which I noticed an uncomfortable amount of food had been stuffed into Liam’s pocket space, we headed out into the main building of the school.

“Can you take me to the room of that guy you told me about?” I paused, trying not to watch as he forcefully tried to force an apple that couldn’t completely fit into his dimensional pocket.

“Which one?”

“You know, Cameron? The swirly guy? The last one that disappeared?”

Liam gave up on trying to fit the apple into his space, taking a bite out of his with a rueful grin. “Sure I can, but why do you want to go there?”

“I want to investigate the disappearances of the missing kids. “

I was ready with countless different explanations if he asked for more information. After all, it wasn’t like I could tell him the truth about how I came to attend his school and who I really was. I felt myself tense up, ready for a barrage of questions.

“Really? Like a detective?!” He pumped a fist into the air, and then dug around his pocket, pulling out a pipe and a magnifying glass. “My moment has arrived!”

“Your… moment?”

“Years of waiting for a chance to solve a mystery, and now the time has finally come!” Liam held the magnifying glass up to his eye, making it appear comically large as he looked at me through it.

“…Sure.” Holding back another of many sighs, I gestured down the hallway. “Lead the way.”

  Cameron’s room was strangely clean. His belongings still were there, posters, books, even a small sketchpad full of superhero costume designs sat neatly in the corner. Everything was tidied up carefully, as if the occupant was preparing to be gone for a long time. I stood in the center of the room, looking around.

“There doesn’t seem to be any signs of struggle.”

Liam nodded, studying a poster on the wall with his magnifying glass, a serious expression on his face.

“Find anything?”

“Yeah, Cameron had awful taste in music.” He gestured to the band poster, shuddering. “No wonder we weren’t friends.”

I shook my head. “Nevermind.”

As I wandered around, however, I noticed something strange.

“Liam, do you smell that?”

“I swear it wasn’t me!”

“No, it’s a sickly sweet smell… I can’t quite place it.” I took a deep breath in through my nose, trying to concentrate.

“Yeah, I guess I smell it too… Do you really think it’s important?”

“Anything could be important.” Digging through his desk, at first I didn’t find anything, but after reducing the friction under it and sliding it back from the wall, I found a planner which had been hidden underneath.

 “Bingo.”  Glancing through it, I whistled, impressed. “Wow this guy is organized. Meetings, classes… he even kept track of which kids he gave swirlies to and when!”

“Ah, yes.” Liam nodded. “My time was Tuesdays at 2:30 PM. “

“Well, let’s take this with us, it could be useful…” I paused, hearing the sound of nearing footsteps. “Quick, hide this!” I shoved the planner in his hands.

“WHERE?”

“Where do you think?!!!”

“Oh.” He tried to put it in his pocket, realizing he didn’t have enough room. Six candy bars and a banana came out and were placed on the desk.

“Why… oh nevermind, just hurry.”

“I’m trying!” He shoved the planner into his pocket, giving out a relieved sigh as it easily slid in. “Got it!”

As he said that, the door to the room burst open and the boy with the eyepatch walked in.

Seriously does anyone knock at this school?

“John, what are you doing here?” Liam asked with a surprised expression.

John grinned, leaning against the doorway with his arms folded. “That’s not the right question, pocket boy. The real question is: why are you and Dropout here doing in Cameron’s room? Breaking and entering isn’t looked well upon, you know.”

“We didn’t break in, the door was open.”

I smiled awkwardly. Actually the door WAS locked… I just reduced the resistance of the mechanism until it slid out of place with a small tap. It was probably not the right time to confess, though.

Fortunately, eyepatch didn’t ask any follow up questions. “Whatever, everyone has to go to the school yard. There’s been an emergency meeting called.”

“What?” I was shocked, the principal shouldn’t have done anything to get in the way of my investigation unless it was really pressing. “Who called it?”

The boy’s grin turned cruel. “Your old schoolmates. It’s the student council of ST High.”

Oh no.

“Why the long face? Think they’ve missed you?” He laughed to himself, but I ignored him, walking out of the room.

He started to extend his foot  across the door way to trip me, but I increased the air resistance of his foot, slowing it almost to a stop while I passed by, his leg hung in the air, unable to move forward.

“what the…”

With a hidden smile, I released all of the resistance around his leg at once.

BAM! It struck the doorframe with a loud noise.

“OW!”

Desperately holding back my laughter, I grabbed onto Liam and we ran towards the courtyard, leaving the furiously cursing bully behind us.

“ST High students are really here?” Liam sounded nervous and excited. “Should I go change? Does my hair look okay? Should I give them candy… Oh no, I left my candy bars behind!” He almost turned back to retrieve his abandoned stash but I pulled him forward, chuckling.

“What are you so worried about? They’re just students like you or me!”

“No they’re not!” Liam pouted as he walked. “They’re special, they’re training to be super heroes! They actually have REAL powers, not like my stupid, useless portal or your…” He trailed off with wide eyes, looking guilty.

“Like my useless power?” I smirked, holding onto his hand a little tighter. “Just hold on.”

It took precise control, increased friction behind us to push off, decreased in front of us to let us slide along with each step. Our speed went from a normal quick pace to lightning fast with just a thought.

“SLOW DOWN!”

“Too late, we’re here!” I stopped us, laughing out loud at Liam’s disheveled bright red hair which stood out in every direction.

He noticed, trying to smooth it down with a furious expression. “Great, now the S.T. council will think I’m weird.”

“…”

“Don’t give me that pitying look.”

We walked into the crowd, weaving our way towards the front, where two people stood.

“Attention students of LP high! We have come here today to help you! Be glad! You are safe now!” A young man with a proud expression stood forward, making sure that every pose he stood in while he spoke had his muscles slightly flexed to show them off. A tall, beautiful girl stood next to him silently, looking bored.

Oh great. These guys.

“I am the student council president of ST high, Eric, also know as the Steel Strength Warrior…” 

I groaned quietly, but no one noticed due to the excitement of the crowd.

“And this is my vice president, Al…”

“Don’t tell the weaklings my real name.” She interrupted with a disgusted glance towards the crowd.

“Sorry… the Flying Wonder.”

“They… they don’t seem very nice.” Liam whispered, looking disheartened. “Are all ST kids like that?”

“I’m from ST.”

“Maybe they kicked you out for being too nice?”

Eric continued talking in a loud voice. “We have been summoned to this school to investigate the missing students! Do not worry, we will find the culprit and bring him to justice before anyone else is hurt.”

Terrified murmurings broke out through the crowd. Many of them had obviously not known that students were missing, or that they were in any danger. I let out another, tired sigh.

Amateurs.

I walked away, not caring to hear anymore. Liam grabbed my sleeve, trying to stop me.

“Tess! Where are you going? The ST guys are still holding the meeting! Besides…” He hesitating, pulling on my arm slightly his grip unknowingly slid over old, scarred skin, causing pain.  “We should talk to them later, see if they have any advice on increasing our powers and get into ST high!”

No. Not again.

I shook my head, trying to stop the uneasiness that grabbed my heart at his words. . “Increasing your powers is impossible.  Put it out of your mind.”

“Easy for you to say! You have a useful power! Me? Just having a little pocket dimension to hold stuff in? How am I supposed to be a hero with that?” He waved his arms, distressed, the volume in voice growing steadily. “It’s not good enough! My mom thinks I’m training to be a super hero here! She has no idea that this is just a second rate school for the drop outs and leftovers like you and me!”

“…” 

A silence fell over the yard as everyone turned to stare at us, their attention grabbed by his yelling. I felt myself break out in a cold sweat, my heart beating frantically as I felt all their gazes on me. The pressure of so many people’s focus being on me was crushing me.

It’s too much!

I turned around and fled, using my powers to force myself to go faster than ever, and didn’t stop until I reached my room. I locked the door behind me, my back sliding against it until I was sitting on the floor, my head in my hand. I could still feel their stares, burrowing into my skin, making me feel exposed, vulnerable.

“You were clumsy.” A man in dark robes struck my face with his fist, knocking me to the ground. I tried to get back up, but received a kick to the ribs, forcing me back down. His face lowered towards my own, his eyes pitiless, his smile cruel.

“You’ll never manage to kill anyone if they see you coming.”

His fist drove towards my face once more and everything fell into darkness.

 I gasped, forcing my way out of the memory. Rubbing my eyes with shaking hands, I tried to force myself to see the room around me, not the training room they had locked me in for months. You’re free. You’re not part of them anymore. You escaped.

Yeah, you escaped, but you left someone behind didn’t you? Another corner of my brain spoke out, the words causing me to shudder.

Because it was right.

 I left her behind.

I tried to save her and I failed. 

Now, there was nothing left to save.

Standing up, I reached beneath the mattress pulling out my emergency communication device and activated it.

“Tess, what’s wrong?” The face of Mr. Lepford, the ST High principal, projected in the air above the device, looking concerned.

“What’s wrong?” I frowned at him. “Someone invited the idiot squad.”

“…” his eyes widened in shock. “The public  student council is there?”

I snapped. “Yeah, remember your brilliant idea of having a cover student council? Remember how you told me that they would only be there as a front, and to organize group activities for the school and such? Well they’re here! And they’re  mucking about in MY investigation!”

“Tess, I promise, I didn’t send them. YOU were supposed to investigate the missing students, how did they even find out about it?!”

“Well they did. And they are here. I am not happy.”

“I’m sorry, I promise I didn’t send them. How goes the investigation? Any progress?”

“I just started.” I rubbed my forehead, groaning. “I’ll send you some names as soon as I hang up, please do a general search on our surveillance system to see if there are any hits. In the meantime, there’s a few connections between the missing students. I just need to find where the points intersect and it will lead me right to them.”

“… Tess, are you going to be okay?” He leaned forward, his brow furrowed.

“Really? You think I’m going to lose in a fight….”

“No, not that.” The Principal shook his head. “You’re ten times deadlier than any teacher we have here. Why do you think I made you the student body president, the real one? But after everything you went through with them… you barely had enough pieces for us to stitch together…are you going to be okay facing them again?”

I could still hear the screaming and the roar of the flames in the back of my mind. 

“Tess?”

“I’ll be fine.” I head myself say. “Just find a reason to call the popular patrol back to SP high and get them out of my hair.”

“Will do…” he hesitated one last time. “Please be careful.”

I hung up without answering.

I needed to get back to work.

Heading to the LP high principal, Mr. Gleason’s office, I was surprised to find he was already entertaining visitors.

“Excuse me, this meeting is private.” Eric, the public student president of SP, stared at me with a condescending gaze as he clutched a floral patterned cup filled with steaming tea.

The vice president nodded, sipping for her own cup. The scent of peppermint filled the air, causing me to wrinkle my nose. I looked over at Mr. Gleason, who nervously adjusted his glasses and smiled at me. 

“Tess! Welcome! Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No. I’ve come for the documents you promised me.”

“Ah… that… I’ve already handed them over to your colleagues.” He glanced over at the two students primly perched on his office couch. “They responded to my call as well.”

“Colleague? Who are you?” The boy was obviously annoyed that we had been grouped together. Mr. Gleason looked surprised.

“How do you not know Tess? She’s the real pr…”

“I’m a real fan of your work.” I interrupted him quickly, forcing a smile and waving brightly at them.

“Tess, I don’t understand, won’t you three work togeth…”

“I work alone.” Frustrated, I turned back towards the door.

“At least stay for tea…”

I slammed the door behind me, increasing the resistance between the latch and the door. Mr. Gleason tried to turn the knob but was unable, giving me time to put some distance between us.

I should have known better than to think he could be helpful for this investigation.

At least Mr. Lepford back at ST high would be looking up some background information for me. But that didn’t mean I had time to relax. I needed the planner back from Liam. To search the other rooms. And then… I needed to anticipate the next step.

I wouldn’t let them take another student.

Not while I could stop them.

I wouldn’t fail another person.

Mia… she would be the last one.

I had to keep moving.