#and a shower that isn’t fucking lake water

[oldestenemy]

this whole not having an apartment thing is getting real fucking old y’all.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 28

part 1 | part 27 | bonus stobin scene | ao3

cw: anxiety attack, graphic thoughts of death

Chapter 7

Steve's mom leaves the week before Thanksgiving.

No preamble, no notice, no "so long and thanks for paying rent," just— poof. Gone. Ta-ta, kiddo. Have a great life!

(Or don't!

Who cares?

Not me, that's for sure!)

The worst part is Steve finds out from Ernie of all people. Ma couldn’t even tell him to his face that she’s abandoning him to the gaping maw of this hellish town because she’s a good-for-nothing coward. Some day this place is gonna swallow him whole, splinter the bones and cough up the pellet, and Florence Harrington will be somewhere far, far away, sighing empty condolences over a fresh glass of red. “Just dreadful, isn’t it? Such a pity; what a shame.”

Steve’s hanging towels on the clothes line the day after the party — after the ride to drop off Max and the hangover brunch with Robin; after drowning his headache in Tylenol and finally getting home, only to realize that he can’t shower yet because all the towels are soaking wet — when Ernie looks up from his yardwork and casually ruins his goddamn life.

“You're wastin' your time with that,” he says, propping his weight against a rake and squinting at Steve in the mid-afternoon sun.

“What?” Steve frowns; hangs another towel. It's not like they're going to dry themselves. "Why?"

"Too cold."

"It's not supposed to rain, though, is it?"

"No, but the humidity—"

Screw the humidity. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

Ernie shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

He turns his attention back to his yard, dragging the rake over a smattering of damp leaves; obsessed with keeping his little patch of lawn pristine; and Steve reaches into the hamper and sincerely hopes that Ernie’s wrong. He needs a shower, and if the towels don't dry fast enough they get that gross mildew smell to them, and then it gets in Steve's hair, and how is he supposed to flirt with Eddie if he smells like musty lake water?

"Where's your mom off to, anyway?" Ernie asks after a moment. "Saw her leave this morning with two big suitcases,” he explains when Steve throws him a questioning look. “Figured she was off somewhere nice.”

Steve blanches.

Two big suitcases?

He didn’t even notice that she wasn’t here. Feels like a stupid, selfish asshole now, because he’d called ‘ma, I’m home!’ when he got in earlier and had thought nothing of her complete lack of response, the peaceful silence of the house; had welcomed it at the time, even, and what if—

Oh, god, what if she’d died?

What if she’d been lying there dead in her room, and Steve didn’t bother to check because he was too busy thinking about himself and how nice it was not to hear reruns on the TV for once? How long would she have lain there, rotting and bloated, and— and how long would his dad have, if the gunshot hadn’t rung out? How long; how long? Bleeding out on the carpet gurgling fish sounds everything red and Steve can’t breathe—

“Did she—?” he pants. Brings a hand to his throat; tries again. “Did you- see who she left with?”

“Some woman. Relative of yours, maybe? I didn’t get a good look at her. Had a real fancy car, though. Mercedes, think it was.”

Steve chokes on his own spit. Feels his throat close up, his heart pound and his ears ring and the yellow-purple-black start creeping in like vines at the edge of his vision, like demogorgon claws; like death’s shark-toothed grin. Hungry, howling, happy as it takes a bite out of him.

“You alright?” Ernie asks.

Steve grinds his jaw so hard he feels something crack. "Excuse me," he grits out, stomping back into the house.

—

"Fuck!" Steve shouts to his empty house — to the sun-faded paneling, to the weird stain in the orange carpet. Fucking Cecelia; fucking hell.

He cleans the house in a rage, eyes hot with unshed tears, and there's a note on the breakfast table. Crisply folded on plain paper, prim cursive letters, almost comically estranged:

Steven,

Apologies for short notice. Gone to stay with Aunt Cece in Evanston. Call or visit if you like.

— Mom

P.S. Happy Thanksgiving

The words leave papercuts in his throat. Steve rips the note to tiny pieces, can hardly see for the tears swimming in his eyes, but he's not crying over this; he's not. He fucking refuses.

Somewhere along the way, the cleaning turns to blind destruction, demolition of the all the little scraps of life mom left behind: her creepy angel figurines, her vintage Pyrex dishes, an empty bottle of old perfume. Steve hurls them all against the living room wall, delights in the shimmering pile of broken glass at his bare feet. Wants to crawl over it on hands and knees. Wants to burn this place to the ground.

When the sun dips below the trees he goes back out to check the towels. The air is wet, bitterly cold; nips at his hands when the wind blows, and the towels hang heavy on the line, just as damp as before but now the slightest bit stiff with the first creep of frost.

"FUCK!" Steve roars, ripping a towel down off the line. Yanking each one down in turn, throwing them into the dirt, raging, "What! Is! The fucking! Point!"

His tears spill over then, hot and wet as he sinks to his knees with a wounded growl, and he chokes there in the dirt; the cold, wet mud, the patchy grass. Gravel digs into his shins, and sobs wrack his chest, capsize him like plunging waves, and he can't do anything but shake and cry where the whole neighborhood can see. Making a commotion; making a scene, as his mother would say, but his mother's not here. She fucking left. She left him here, and his dad did, too, and Steve is utterly, truly, hopelessly alone.

"Come on, son."

And there’s Wayne Munson, coaxing him up off the ground with a sure, strong grip. Steve makes animal sounds as Wayne lifts him under the arms — ruined hiccups, mangled wails. There's mud in his lungs. Ocean silt; sucking sludge.

His mother's gone.

"Easy now," Wayne shushes; hugs him hard against his side. "You're alright, kid. You're alright."

—

part 29

tag list under separate reblogs, comment if you’re over 21 and want to be added tomorrow

[beautifulhigh]

Welcome to the next edition of Jen's meta ramblings

I have watched the movie at least once a day since it came out and I kid you not, I see something new every time. The fact that this is Matthew López's first directoral debut is just... I'm in awe. And you can tell how much he loves the story because of the way things like this are set up and played out

In the novel, Henry and Alex are skinny dipping in the lake at night, and so I absolutely got the change in both time of day and also attire. But let's talk about that little island shall we?

No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea

Every single one of us is not meant to be alone, without connection and without a link to someone else. We are parts of a whole and if we lose that... well. It's not good.

Henry is on that island, our prince who belongs to Britain and Henry Fox who thinks he has to belong to himself. The prince is forced into status and circumstance, of appearances and mindless ribbon cuttings. When he does something that means something - like the trip to the cancer ward - then he doesn't do it with cameras. I'd argue he's not the prince there, he's Henry Fox. The man who lost his father to cancer.

But this is not that meta.

Henry has shut himself off, shut himself away. He doesn't date the people he's interested in, he doesn't live his truth (and for very good and valid reasons). He has decided that while Prince Henry belongs to Britain, Henry Fox is an island.

And look who is swimming up to that island. Look who is coming out to Henry, having realised the night before that oh yeah, I do feel forever about him and so Alex swims out to that island.

And the first thing he does? He makes Henry laugh. He is silly and fun and the complete antithesis of the composed and collected Prince of Wales. And then he joins Henry, on his island.

This gorgeous overhead shot shows us that Alex is putting himself on Henry's right (protocol or his good side?) but he's also in the centre of the island. He's not on the edge of it. In the metaphor of Henry Fox's island, Alex is putting himself at the heart of it all. RIght before he lays out his heart to Henry.

The shot that broke our hearts too, along with Henry's. Because we can see the shore in the background now. We're reminded that islands are not - they cannot be fully independent. People cannot be islands and even though Alex is literally and metaphorically planting himself at Henry's side, Henry knows that this island he's formed for himself in his heart and his sense of self cannot stand if Alex is there. If Alex is with him then he is no longer an island. Henry Fox will not belong to himself and the sense of protection and self-preservation we see coming out in the Storming of Kensington is under threat.

So he bails.

The island is submerged, like the mythical Atlantis, because how do you render land useless? Drown it. How do you deal with water? Drain it away. He abandons his island and flees back to the only other space he has left - Kensington Palace - in an attempt to regroup. He drains his life of Alex and what he brings. He has to return to being the Prince of Wales because Henry Fox got too close. Because Henry Fox realised he was being loved by a man who would literally swim out to where he is.

Moment of appreciation for the shot. Matthew, you have a fucking talent and I cannot wait to see what else you do. Because our #imtaller boy looks so small here. So lost. When else have we seen someone look so small and lost?

Oh. Yeah.

When he's curling in on himself in an almost last-ditch attempt to protect himself and his boundaries from what is coming. You can see that he's no longer dry, that Alex's "shower time" has changed him. Alex brought laughter and love and water onto his island and Henry has just realised what this means. This isn't a visitor's visa. This is immigration.

Which is what makes THIS so much more. Back to our boy, drenched from the storm, plaintively asking Henry to talk to him.

Because yes, the Storming of Kensington happens during an actual storm, but by now you know I overead into everything... so once again we have Alex "swimming" out to Henry. He's dived right in and gone are the jokes, gone is the humour. He is here and he is asking to be let in and daring Henry to send him away.

This is Alex, serious and in love and following Henry to whatever landmass he is setting foot on. Henry is trying to be an island and Alex is out here going, "I'll just build another boat you fucker". A true 'ship if you will. He swam out to an island on a lake, he flew to a tiny island across an ocean. He is standing at Henry's borders and he isn't launching an offensive. He's just saying that if Henry wants to be cut off from everything then he needs to do the cutting himself.

Prince Henry felt like he belonged to Britain, Henry Fox felt like he had to belong to himself, and Alex turned up and went "nope. Mine now". (Insert additional historical quip about the English being colonised for once.) But there is still some truth in that: the Prince is part of England, and we should all belong to ourselves even in relationships. Henry just learns that the different parts of him can co-exist. Bit like how water and land can co-exist without one destroying the other.

Henry is Alex's North Star but he's also his solid ground. Insert quip about Alex colonising Henry and claiming him for his own, planting of flag, your innuendo of choice goes here. Pyramus wished there wasn't a wall - Alex straight up scaled Henry's.

There's a divergence between Prince Henry and Henry Fox, but at the heart of them both there's Henry. And this is the man that Alex sees, this is the man that Alex loves. Alex swims out to the island for Henry Fox, Alex pushes through the rain for Prince Henry. Alex holds steady in the storm of talking with King James/Queen Mary and the public.

And it started with Alex literally making his way out to Henry on an island: be that England for the Royal Wedding, a pontoon island on a lake, or knocking down Henry's walls.

To this moment. Which is very hard to grab a screenshot of, but Alex asks Henry to "take a walk" with him. This time it's Henry going to/with Alex. The fact that he's there is one thing (and a rant rather than a meta) but at this point they have each other. They belong to each other. Where one of them goes, the other one follows. Independent, together, co-existing.

Anyway. I'm sure there will be more bullshit ramblings and metas at some point. Follow me if you want more of that (but be warned: blank and empty blogs are blocked on sight) because we are not islands in this metaphorical storm of life. Let us swim out to one another, dry off with one another, and live a life with broken down borders and walls.

ETA: I now have another name to add to the thanks. Stephen Goldblatt, from the bottom of my soul, thank you

[jamespottersmixtape]

rosekiller microfic: goldilocks 1,632 words

a bit of soft rosekiller!! this is inspired by @myrows rosekiller art which you can find here! it made me want to weep a little when I first saw it, so naturally I had to write something haha :) ngl this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and it's by no means perfect but enjoy!! <3

Barty has always cherished quiet nights at Hogwarts.

When the chatter in the halls finally dies down enough for his thoughts to come back to him and homework has been carelessly tossed aside to save for tomorrow.

There’s a sense of serenity to it all that Barty rarely finds elsewhere. A break that he craves most at the end of a particularly stressful day.

Sixth year courses have been—to put it lightly, beating his ass—no matter how well he does. Today, it had taken him ten tries to get the nonverbal spell to work in Transfiguration. Ten.

Usually Barty needs no more than six tries for complicated spells, less than that for complex potions. Disregarding that he still did it faster than over half the class, now he’s just fucking tired.

He groans and shoves his schoolbag off the bed, letting it hit the floor with a soft thud, then flops backwards dramatically onto his pillows. The dorm room is dim, save for a few small candles on his bedside table. Cloaked in various shadows that dance around the room from the flickering flame.

Barty closes his eyes, taking a spare second to just breathe. There’s the soft white noise of the shower running in the background—Evan is taking forever, as usual—and sometimes Barty imagines he can hear the push and pull of the black lake against their walls. Lack of windows be damned.

It isn’t long before the water shuts off, and Barty feels the smallest smile tug at the corners of his mouth. It’s just the two of them for now, Regulus off doing god knows what at this hour. So naturally, a lot of built up restraint is needed for Barty not to rip open the bathroom door. To go and take in the sight of a freshly showered Evan and gather him in his arms before he can be stopped.

He’s been in there for less than thirty minutes but fuck it, Barty misses him.

Grumbling, he goes to change into the first clothes he can find. Settling for some years old joggers and a loose tank top, the soft fabric already making him drowsy.

The bathroom door creaks open and his head snaps up, immediately catching Evan’s eye. Barty really can’t help it when his heart skips a beat.

Evan raises his eyebrows, chuckling when Barty takes no subtlety in checking him out. His hair is dry, most likely done by magic. A thin blue t-shirt hangs off his shorter frame and each step taken towards Barty casts golden shadows over his skin.

Looking like everything warm and comfortable; the smell of his shampoo in the air so familiar that it hurts.

Barty’s smirk is wicked when he tugs Evan by his shirt into a light kiss. He makes a startled noise but melts into Barty’s touch regardless, fingers cupping his chin. The kiss is short but effective in making Barty’s head go all fuzzy.

“What happened to hello?” Evan asks when they pull apart—though not very far—now standing chest to chest. Evan’s bare feet fit in between his socked ones.

 Barty makes sure to slather his words in extra charm, grinning. “Hello, gorgeous.” 

“Wow, smooth talker,” Evan deadpans.

“You know you love it, Goldilocks.”

Barty takes a blonde strand between two fingers, tugging lightly at the end and earning him a deep scowl.

“I told you that nickname is stupid.” Evan rolls his eyes but Barty catches the blush high on his cheekbones. A light dusting of pinks and reds that work to compliment his freckles. Barty pokes him on one cheek.

“And I told you I don’t care.”

“Brat.”

Barty hums noncommittally, threading their fingers together. Warmth settles in his chest from the steady weight of Evan’s hand.

He leads Evan past the emerald green curtains of his bed and down onto the soft mattress. It’s a routine they’ve created over the last few months, and every time Barty wraps the covers around them it becomes harder and harder to let Evan slip back into his own bed. Something about having him in his arms means a night free of restless tossing and turning.

They lie facing each other for a few minutes, minimal space between them and their heads resting on one pillow. Quiet voices and even quieter laughs, a sacred bubble that neither of them dare to pop.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Barty laughs, his voice barely above a whisper. “You told Cresswell what?”

Evan frowns, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I told him…that if he feels the need to keep staring at you in class then maybe I should tape his fucking eyes open. You know, that way he wouldn’t miss it when I inevitably snog you right in front of him.”

“Evan!” Barty can’t help it, his laugh is loud when it bursts from his chest.

“Well, maybe I left out that last bit…”

It takes him a minute before his laughter dies down, the quiet settling back in. “You jealous?” Barty teases, raising an eyebrow.

Evan purses his lips. “No.”

Barty stares at him knowingly.

Silence.

Evan averts his eyes.

“Mhm sure, come here.”

He drags Evan in by his waist, the pair of them fumbling around until Evan’s head relaxes in the crook of Barty’s neck and his forearm rests over his chest. Their sides pressed together, Barty smiles—fully content now.

Wordlessly, Barty ghosts his hand over the warm skin, relishing in the way Evan shivers from the cold metal of the ring on his middle finger.

There’s silence for a few minutes. Evan’s hair brushes the side of his face and his warm breath fans across his chest, their hearts only slightly out of sync as they beat so close together.

It’s a lot for Barty to take in sometimes—the whole idea of them. Having someone so delicate, yet so utterly untouchable, be his. If anyone took the time to ask him, though, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Barty knows Evan’s eyes are closed, can see the shadow of his eyelashes. He takes the opportunity to trace over his freckles; a messy constellation that follows the high points of his cheeks, crosses sporadically over the bridge of his nose.

Evan scrunches his face up, which should not be so endearing. “That tickles.”

Barty turns his head, placing the quickest of kisses atop of Evan’s forehead, debating whether or not he should just give in and lick the side of his face. Then ultimately deciding against it—Evan did just take a shower—he’ll be nice for once.

“I wasn’t jealous. I don’t get jealous,” Evan mumbles, his voice lulled and tired sounding.

“Of course not, Ev.” Barty resists rolling his eyes, Evan can’t see his face anyway. 

“Besides,” Barty continues, “If you were jealous, I don’t mind you threatening people for me…it’s kinda hot.”

Evan smacks him lightly across the chest, but snuggles deeper against his shoulder. Which definitely does not do a weird flippy thing to Barty’s stomach. Nope, not at all.

“Mm okay,” Evan yawns. Which, Barty can’t blame him. Exhaustion is slowly taking over his body the longer they lie here. At this point all he wants to do is blow out the candles and fall asleep. Keep Evan next to him the whole night.

“Hey Goldilocks.”

“Mhm…” Evan must be too tired to even rebuke the nickname.

“Reg is going to freak out if he finds you here in my bed.”

Evan huffs, not very different from a petulant child. He makes no move to get up or even open his eyes. “I don’t care.”

This time Barty can’t hold back his yawn. He shuts his eyes and allows his body to sink further into the bed. Further into Evan. “Maybe we can tell Potter how madly in love with him Reg is. Then they can finally leave us alone.”

“Payback,” Evan snorts.

They both fall asleep without really meaning to. Tangled limbs beneath the covers and hands that aren’t inclined to let go. As his mind quiets down, something in Barty feels settled. A puzzle piece slotting into place after searching and searching for the edge that matches. Evan tends to have that effect on him, he’s come to notice.

All is quiet for a while, the whole school in a coinciding state of slumber. A time when portraits snore softly and only ghosts roam the halls, the usual lively presence of magic at bay for now.

But not even thirty minutes later they’re awoken with a loud thud and a significantly darker room—Barty had blown the candles out after all—just in case.

“Lumos,” someone whispers.

Regulus stands at the end of Barty’s bed, hands on his hips and a look of annoyance on his face. His wand is now lit and shining far too bright for Barty’s liking.

“What the fuck, Reg?” he asks groggily. Evan groans beside him and tries to hide his face.

“Not my fault I tripped over your fucking books, Barty,” Regulus hisses. “And you guys are gross. You said no PDA in the dorm.”

Barty squints and gestures for him to lower his wand. Regulus does so slowly. “Yeah, well I’m a fucking liar. Let us sleep.”

It’s with a lot of grumbling and a sharp glare that Regulus turns and stalks to his side of the room. When he shuts himself in the bathroom Barty reaches for his own wand and spells his curtains closed.

He has Evan back in his arms in no time, steady and real and here. Absolutely not going anywhere, if Barty has a say in it. His fingers resume their path over his arm, tracing nonsensical shapes that neither can decipher. Before they both drift off again a thought pops into Barty’s head.

“We are definitely getting him back for this.”

[gaintsnowflake]

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

PARING - anthony lockwood x gn!reader

ONESHOT - in which you stay up waiting for lucy and lockwood to get back from a job only to find them soaked and mad at each other.

TRIGGERS - mentions of death

A/N - angst and fluff | please mind any typos or grammar errors, i am my own editor and I may not be able be able to get everything | I really don’t know how I feel about this one, i hate it but i also like it, Lockwood may be a bit OOC, so I do apologize

WORD COUNT - 3.0k

masterlist

I WAITED for them to stumble through the door, regretting my life choices.

George and I were forced to stay home since George got caught pulling two all-nighters in a row for research and I was still on lockdown from a recent injury. The worst thing about it was, they were going against a type two, alone, in the middle of nowhere. I should be there with them, at least I would be able to provide some help. It would be much better than sitting here at three am awaiting their return.

Finally, I heard the door open, followed by a slam and another reopen. Within a few seconds, I hear Lockwood yelling after Lucy. Quickly, I run from my seat in the kitchen to the main hall, trying to see what all of the ruckus was, just when I went to look at them I was met with two soaked teenagers screaming at each other. Well, Lucy screaming at Lockwood. I paused for a quick second before all my body filled with rage, the idiot fucked up again, I know it.

"Anthony, what the fuck did you do?" I yelled, drawing their attention toward me.

Lucy just looked at me, her mascara running and her eyes watering before she gave me a slight smile. Lockwood on the other hand gave me his best guilty smile knowing that I would not spare him.

"He decided to push us into a quite disgusting lake trying to get away from our dear friend Mr. Sanders, isn't that right Lockwood," Lucy's voice was laced with anger as she turned between the two of us. "Not only did I have it handled, he made me lose the source I was trying to cover, only delaying the whole thing more. Also, the lake contains really big fish that we don't even know what they were. We could have gotten eaten."

"It was smarter than you getting ghost touched, you wouldn't have been able to cover it in time, I was trying to save you, Luce.  Besides we weren't eaten."

They looked towards me as I stepped towards Lucy. I endearingly rubbed her shoulder to let her know that I was there for her and turned away from Anthony, our faces not far from one another.

"Go shower, Lucy," I spoke softly, "I will handle Lockwood and once you get I'll make sure he apologizes and I will make sure he makes your favorite teas, how does that sound?" I waited for her to nod, which took her a second, she was probably sending death glares to Lockwood. Once she did I moved my hand and turned back to Anthony. "How about we go talk in the library, yeah? Wouldn't want to wake up George."

He responded with a quick nod before moving towards the library, Lucy stood still for a second. I slowly start to follow before I felt Lucy grab my arm, forcing me to turn toward her.

"I know you like to go easy on him, but give him hell for me, please? He deserves it this time."

I smiled and nodded before turning around to go do what I do best, solve the fights and make sure everyone is happy.

I turned towards her and gave her a big smile before continuing to meet Lockwood in the library. I closed the door to see him sitting in his chair, face in his hands, shaking his head. I could see the guilt through him.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened and then I lecture you or do you wanna split up the lecture tonight?" I asked quietly, walking towards him; Pausing in front of him, I ruffled his already messy hair and took one of his hands. 

"Can we split up the lecture, please?" His voice was shaky, he felt guilty. He looked me in the eyes briefly, just slow enough I can see that they were tear lined, before turning away. 

"You know what you did was stupid. You aren't fighting me on anything. I want you to know why it is stupid though," I started, sitting down across from him, keeping his hand in mine, I slowly played with his fingers, spinning the ring over and over. "You could have gotten yourself or Lucy more hurt. You don't know what was in that lake Anthony, and I know sometimes it's hard to believe but the living can be scarier than the dead, whether it was a fish or not. It could have injured you- don't even try to argue yet, let me finish. I know that there is probably a reason for your thinking but whatever it is doesn't mean you should disregard the fact that you could have gotten more hurt. Especially if what Lucy said was true about her nearly having the source.

"I know that you care about us, but I want you to think for a second, how would you feel if Lucy never was able to walk through that door again because you made the mistake of making her swim with the fishes, metaphorically and literary. You wouldn't have lost just her, but you would have hurt George and me in unbearable ways. Why? Because you didn't think? You rushed into it like you always do. I know that sounds selfish, but you know that everything you do is to save us three. To keep us safe. Now think about it again, you were able to save Lucy but not you? What if you died? I know that you think that isn't the worst option in the world, but it is truly terrible. Those thoughts aren't true and never will be true. We would have to live, hoping that maybe you just would walk through that door one more time with that stupid little grin you do after you get us a job that is way too difficult. We love you, Lockwood, and I love you Anthony, they don't want to lose you, or Lucy. Just how you wouldn't want to lose them. I can't lose you, you are my everything, Anthony, my everything."

His eyes met mine, finally, but a few of those tears escaped. I quickly slid from my seat and kneeled on the ground, I used my free hand to whip away the tears and caress his cheek and muttered a few soft, "I'm sorry." I know it hurts him for me to see him like this, so open and vulnerable, but at the same time, he knows I would never judge him for it and that I would always be there.

"You need to start thinking more. Not just move first, questions later. You need to think, even if it was for just a second. Sometimes that may not be the best option, but in some situations it is. But before I decide if this was one of these situations, can you tell me everything that happened?" I finally asked, giving him the ability to talk openly.

He waited for a moment, causing me to fear that maybe I was a little too hard on him. Nonetheless, he started talking, slowly making sure he didn't miss a single detail.

"The job wasn't difficult at first, just the average haunting. The mansion was large but we had been able to figure out that he died on the steps into the backyard, thanks to my amazing sight. We had heard that he was haunting some of the inside but also the backyard. Just as we were trying to figure out where his source may be, it was this fishing rod thing. He was huge into catching fish. The thing was there were about twenty of them. Fifteen inside, right beside the door, and the rest outside. After we had the ones inside covered, we stayed for a bit to make sure we had the right ones. We kind of assumed we did given that they were his expensive ones. But eventually, he turned up and boy was he mad. Lucy took the silver net and ran with it outside to make sure that she covered them and after I hit him with enough salt bombs I followed her. All of a sudden, while we were on his deck he came up behind us and I was out of salt bombs, Lucy was nearly done covering the source but I thought we wouldn't have enough time so I ran into her, pushing us both off the dock and into the lake."

After he finished he looked at me with a blank stare, his eyes widening, immediately realizing what he forgot to do, try using his rapier. This was surprising given that he nearly always remembers to use it and uses it when even not needed. 

"There it is, the reason why Lucy is mad. You didn't fucking use your rapier."

"Maybe you are right, maybe I didn't have to push us in. Oh god, I am such an idiot. I have to go apologize," He scrambled to apologize, running past me as I rose to stop him. 

"Lockwood," I called after him, trying to make him realize that she was still showering. "She is still in the shower!"

Before I could reach him, I realized the water wasn't running. I looked to see that Lucy was just staring confused at Lockwood who was frantically telling her that it was his fault and he sees that now, promising to be less reckless in the future. He was also giving her his best, "Please don't leave me because I just cried about this" smile. 

"It's okay Lockwood, I realized I was overreacting a bit. You were just trying to protect us. Which wasn't the smartest of ways, but you still saved my life at the end of the day. Now can we please just admit that we aren't mad at each other so we can go to bed?" She cut him off mid-apology, her voice getting more and more quiet till she yawned at the end. "

Yeah, yeah, I am not mad at you. Goodnight, Luce," He then turned towards me, "Thank you as always, I am going to shower and then head to bed, meet me in there."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna talk to Lucy for a bit in the kitchen so if I am not in bed you know where to find me," I said as he gave me a quick peck on the cheek before walking away. Turning to Lucy I smiled, "How about we go talk for a few minutes and then you can head off to bed?"

"Okay," she muttered with a smile before heading to the Kitchen.

As we reached the kitchen, Lucy went to go sit in her chair as I reached up in the cabinets to grab four hidden donuts from Arifs. The others don't know but I also keep hidden ones for my private conversations with them after long cases or me scolding them to no ends. Georges and my first were missing as we had a long conversation as soon as the other two left about his sleeping habits, I kept it short but I still managed to get in everything I wanted to say over donuts and some tea.

I put her favorite donut lightly on the plate and mine on another before smiling and turning toward her. I closed the box and left it on the counter to make sure it seemed like it was empty and I would just throw it away after, that way she didn't go to check that spot and figure out my secret, given that as of now, she thinks that I run out and get them when I think they will be needed and not that I always have them, just in case.

"Want me to put on some tea?" I placed the plate down in front of her as I questioned, she shook her head no, allowing me to sit down across from her. "Are you not mad at him or did you just say that?"

"I am not mad at him, I know he was just trying to protect us, but there were just so many ways he could have, I don't know, just he didn't have to leave us soaking in the middle of the night."

"I get it and don't worry I lectured him on that," I paused as she took a bite of her donut, taking a bite out of mine as well, "He is sorry, truly, so I am glad that you can forgive him."

We sat there for a little, finishing our donuts in silence, once she was done she had gotten up to go put her dish away but before she got the chance I told her I had it. I quickly stood up and took our plates and went to go wash them off. I smiled at her and bid her goodnight as she said it back.

I was now alone, I had time to breathe, Anthony shouldn't be out of the shower for a few more minutes so I can just breathe. 

I began to wash the plates off lightly with water and a tad bit of soap before drying them off only to fill them with more donuts, this time it was Anthony's favorite and my favorite. I put them down in front of our normal seats, his at the head of the table and mine the next closest chair, brought as close to the age as it could.

I smiled and sat down, staring at the wall. Tonight was something and it may take me a few hours to recover from all the worry, but they are safe now at home. Everyone is safe inside of 35 Portland Row and my worries can subside for a bit.

"I should've checked here first," a voice whispered, his voice.

I turned to see him in a plain white T-shirt, quite similar to the stolen one I am wearing now, and some sweats. His wet hair is laying across his forehead and little drops of water were all across his body. 

He gave me his world-famous grin before I motioned for him to sit, which he did very quickly. Once he was sitting he started eating the donut, no shock, as he refused to eat before the job, against my wishes, stating he wasn't hungry. With his other hand, he rubbed my knee up to my thigh trying to find my loose hand. When he eventually laced our fingers together and started rubbing mine in a comforting way. He could tell I was stressed and worried, always seeing right through me.

"You know, you should become a therapist or something," he started a light friendly conversation, "since you always act like ours, why not do it for others and get paid."

"I can't know, I can't continue my education, I choose to be an agent, so that is what I am now," my smile faltered for a second as I wondered if I made the right choice all those years ago when I decided to become an agent.

"Well, then maybe you will just be the agency's therapist then, I mean, you already are, but that could be like your official role other than agent," He offered, in an attempt to raise my bad mood. 

"Yeah, that sounds good, I guess," I truly did make the right choice. Because if I didn't I wouldn't be sitting here with Anthony Lockwood, eating donuts at now four in the morning about to head to bed.

We finished our donuts with a few words exchanged. I stood up and collected our plates, I wasn't going to fully wash them, I would do that in the morning, well afternoon, when I woke up. So for now the plates will sit in our kitchen sink waiting to be washed.

Before I turned around I heard light scribbles coming from Anthony. I looked and rested my elbows on his chair standing above him as he wrote a short note to George explaining that they got home late so everyone won't wake up till afternoon. 

I smiled at him once again before taking his arm and dragging him from his chair. He followed me up to his room, slowly behind me as we were both exhausted and were probably going to fall asleep as soon as we reach the bed.

I opened the door to the dark room, not even wanting to turn on a light. I let go of Anthony's arm and navigated the familiar room, and crawled into bed. He slowly got in right after me.

He laid flat on his back and put up his arms, wanting me to lay on top of him. I happily obliged. My head rested on his shoulder titled to the side as he rested his head on mine lightly. One arm fell off him and the other wrapped around and began playing with his hair. One leg was in between his and the other was laying flat on the bed. His arms were tightly wrapped around me.

He slowly kissed my head before beginning to talk, slurring his words. His voice got quieter and quieter within minutes as his breath got slower. Eventually, he just stopped talking. The word felt as if it had stopped in this peaceful moment. I know I made the right choice when I choose to become an agent, he was the best thing to come out of this. As we lay here together, finding peace in one another.

His breath lingered on my ear as I lay across his body, the smell of his body wash and shampoo filled my nose. A smile played on my lips as I played with his wet hair, twirling a few strands over and over. His arms were wrapped around me, lighter than before as by now he has completely fallen asleep. His worries drifted away as his breaths became slower and slower. My worries were now gone as he was FINALLY HOME.

[minisugakoobies]

In Good Hands | JHS

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plots, a tiny bit of hurt/comfort, Ranch!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: sex work, swearing, drinking, kissing, grinding, marking/love bites, humping, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), hand job, dirty talk, protected sex, riding, lots of orgasm talk, allusions to unsupportive/asshole exes/partners, Hoseok's a fucking pro (in every way)

Word Count: 8.5K

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Once again, another partner has left you feeling unsatisfied. Maybe it’s time to call in an expert. Don’t worry, Hoseok knows exactly what you need.

A/N: Well, this started out as a PWP and then a little bit of plot crept in there anyway. 🤷‍♀️ Whatcha gonna do? Thank you to @reliablemitten for taking a look at this one for me. 💜 And to the rest of the writers in the Bangtan Ranch collab, for inspiring me with your kindness and talent! 🤠

Please don't be a silent reader! 🥺 I'd love to hear what you think! My inbox is always open 💕

Bangtan Ranch Masterlist

It’s over your second glass of champagne that you tell him. 

Hoseok’s eyebrows shoot up almost comically as he chokes on his drink, wincing when the bubbles tickle his nose. Not exactly the reaction you’d been hoping for, but at least he’s not laughing at you. And to be fair to him, the two of you were in the middle of a conversation about the amazing dinner you had just shared. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting for you to blurt out, “No one’s ever made me come from sex!” when he’d asked, “Do you like to cook?”

This isn’t how you planned on telling him. It’s because you’re nervous. You’ve been nervous ever since you arrived here this morning. 

All of your friends had been rather surprised when you’d announced you’d planned yourself a little weekend getaway at Bangtan Ranch. You weren’t really an ‘outdoors’ type of person, as more than one friend felt compelled to point out. And it’s true - you much prefer the comforts of home to roughing it in the wilderness. But you shut down their incredulous questioning with one single word - glamping.

So as far as your friends are concerned, you’re here for a weekend of pampering, staying in a modern little yurt instead of a tent or cabin, with running water and electricity and a king sized bed fully furnished with plush faux fur blankets. The tiny space includes other luxurious amenities, such as a fully stocked bar and a hot tub on the deck around the back. It’s a true oasis, a place where you can unwind away from the stress of everyday life.

A self-care weekend. That is what your friends believe you’re on, because that is what you’ve convinced them. But the truth is far more complicated. And embarrassing. Because you’ve chosen to stay at Bangtan Ranch for one specific reason. Which you’ve just shared with Hoseok, accidentally, tongue loosened by the alcohol coursing through your veins, letting your anxiousness override your filter.

The day has been fairly relaxing so far. After checking in, you went on a little tour of the grounds, taking in the sights you recognized from online, like the corral where the horses roam, and the lake where fly fishermen launch their lures into the shimmering crystal waters. 

In the late afternoon, you’d scheduled yourself a massage, thinking it might help you loosen up a little. Your masseuse brought their portable table out to the yurt and did their best to put you at ease, but somehow you retained the tension you’d brought to the ranch with you, muscles stubbornly remaining tightly drawn, like you were shielding yourself, trying to keep your secret as long as you could. 

After the masseuse packed up and left, you took a shower, then dressed for your date. There was a knock at the door not long after that as Hoseok arrived, followed quickly by your dinner. The kitchen staff at the main house provided a sumptuous catered meal of steak and roasted veggies, with fresh strawberries and cream for dessert. And lots of champagne. After such a feast, you should feel content, but you’re still keyed up.

Hence the blurt.

“No one? Not once?” Hoseok has recovered from the drink flooding his lungs. He places his glass carefully on the table between you before running a hand through his chestnut hair. He’s even more handsome in person than his profile on Bangtan’s website suggests. And that’s saying a lot, because you’d literally gasped upon seeing his photo when you’d scrolled through the staff section of the site. 

You shake your head, gaze focusing on the half-empty flute in front of you. “Not once.” Unable to look him in the eye, like you’re divulging a shameful secret. You’re an adult who has had more than a handful of sexual partners in your lifetime, and not a single one of them ever gotten you off during sex. Not. A. One. After the first few left you feeling unsatisfied, you figured it was a run of bad luck. Just some lousy lays. But it kept happening. Over and over. In both relationships and one-night stands.

You learned pretty quickly not to bother bringing it up. That conversation never went well. Instead, you perfected the fake O - you knew exactly how to move, how to moan and yell, make it seem like you were awash in ecstasy. Eventually, though, you got tired of acting. So you stopped altogether. 

It’s been months since your last date. Occasionally, in your loneliest hours, you’ve thought about putting one of those apps back on your phone and swiping through your options, but any time you go down that train of thought, you inevitably arrive at the same question. So before you put yourself out there, you need to know first. Which is why you’ve hired an expert to help you out. 

An expert who is silently observing you now, waiting for you to go on. 

“I feel like I should clarify a few things. Um. I’ve had a lot of partners. Not a crazy amount, but more than a few. And none of them could get me off.” You glance up and find his warm eyes locked on your face. You can feel your neck starting to warm, embarrassment settling itself into your bones. Grabbing your flute, you down the rest of your drink before continuing. “And it’s not that I’ve never had an orgasm. I’ve had plenty, just always by my own hand. So I’m here because… I need to know. If - if it’s me.” 

“If it’s you?”

You nod. “Yeah. Like, if I am the problem.” 

His brows knit together as he stares at you. “You think you are the reason your partners have never brought you to orgasm? When you just said you’ve gotten yourself off plenty of times?” 

Another nod.

He sighs, plucking a strawberry from the bowl and swiping it through the cream. “You’re not the first person I’ve met who has told me something like this. Not by a long shot. Many people have come to me seeking the truth. And I helped them find it.” Bringing the strawberry to his lips, his tongue darts out and licks the cream off before he pops the berry into his mouth. 

You must have a strange expression on your face because he suddenly laughs, shaking his head. “Wow, that sounds pretty conceited, huh? Bragging that I’ve always brought all my partners to orgasm.” He pauses, dark brows furrowing again as he spins his glass in front of him. “Let me try again. I’ve been working at this ranch for a few years now, and I’ve met so many different people. All with their own wants. Their own desires. For me, it’s always been about discovering what the other person needs. That’s the key to making sure they enjoy the experience.” He shrugs. “Maybe that still sounds conceited, I don’t know. All I know is that anyone who has ever come to me with the same question you have has always left here knowing the answer.”

“And you think you can do that for me?” The alcohol has made you blunt.

Hoseok’s silent for a moment, scanning your face. Then he nods. “I know I can. If you’ll let me.” 

There’s a flash of something in his warm eyes that makes you swallow thickly before you reply. “Okay. So… how do we get started?”

“Leave that to me.” He pours the rest of the champagne into your flutes. “All you need to do is relax tonight. That’s your only goal. Does that sound all right?”

It sounds fantastic, but you’re not sure it’s going to happen, given how wound you still are. But you agree anyway, taking another sip. 

“Good. So. Back to my original question - do you like to cook?” 

Hoseok tries his best to engage you in normal conversation, asking you about your hobbies, what you do for a living, what other activities you’re hoping to get to on your vacation. It feels like you’re on a typical date, getting to know one another. But from the way your leg keeps bouncing, fingers drumming on your thigh, you’re sure he can tell it’s not working. 

“It should be starting to cool off outside,” he states as he stands to clear the table, putting the empty dishes back on the cart for the kitchen staff to collect. “How would you feel about moving this conversation outside, to the hot tub? We can take the rest of dessert with us, open another bottle of champagne - or I can make you a cocktail, if you’d prefer?” 

Moving to the hot tub might help. At this point, you’ll try anything. “Hot tub sounds fantastic right now. But, um, I think I’m okay on the alcohol.” You’re at the perfect amount of tipsy right now - there’s no desire to cross over into drunk. 

Hoseok goes outside to prepare the hot tub while you change into your bathing suit. When he returns, you grab a few bottles of water and the remaining strawberries and head around the yurt to the tub while he changes. The trees towering over the back of the yurt are tall enough to blot out the sun, so Hoseok has turned on the string lights hanging over the deck. By the time he joins you, you’re already in, reclining against the side, head tipped back to rest on the ledge, eyes closed.

The water is so warm and soothing. The jets aimed at your lower back feel like reassuring hands kneading your tension away. Maybe you should’ve skipped the massage earlier and just sat in the tub for a few hours, given how quickly your body is starting to unwind. 

“You look comfortable,” Hoseok informs you as he climbs in, water splashing over the edge of the tub. You pop one eye open a crack, noticing the darkened trail of hair on his toned stomach, heading down to the waistband of his shorts. He settles himself against the opposite edge, facing you.

“I am.” 

“Good.” He lets his head fall back. “I’m so glad you picked this yurt.” 

His statement catches you off guard and you open your eyes. “You are?”

“Yeah. It’s always so much nicer staying here than in one of the tents. I'm not really a tent person. Don’t care for sleeping on the ground.”

“Did you do a lot of camping before, um…”

“Before I started working here?” 

“I’m sorry, is it okay if I ask you questions?” Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about work. You shouldn’t just assume that he’s open to any topic.

“Of course.” His warm smile consoles you. “It’s such a cliche to say this, I know, but my life is an open book. You can ask me anything.” 

“Did you do a lot of camping growing up?” 

He laughs. It’s such a delightful sound. “Thankfully, no. My parents weren’t really into being outdoors. So I didn’t spend a lot of time outside as a kid, and definitely not in any tents.” 

Your hand glides through the water, playing with the currents. “We didn’t really go camping when I was a kid, either. I had an ex who liked to go, though, so I’ve slept in a tent a few times. And I’m with you - sleeping on the ground sucks. I don’t care how many futons or air mattresses you bring, it’s never enough.” 

“Right?? I don’t understand anyone who willingly does that. We’re humans! We evolved and invented mattresses! And nice beds to put them on! Why go back?” Shaking his head incredulously, he runs his hands through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. Damp tips drip water down the sharp planes of his jawline. “So other than the tent, did you like going camping?”

You shrug. “Most of it, I guess. I enjoyed going for hikes. And we always brought marshmallows to roast at night. I make a mean s’more.” 

Hoseok grins. “You know, the yurt comes stocked with marshmallows and roasting sticks, if you want to fire up the pit later. And I can get us some chocolate and graham crackers.” 

“Maybe.” Maybe if things don’t go as you hoped, you can cheer yourself up with some melted chocolate and marshmallows. “I guess these trips weren’t terrible, but they were never my first choice. Plus I almost died on one.” 

“What?” Hoseok’s a very animated person, you’ve noticed. When he reacts to something you say, he does so with his whole body. In this case, his jaw hangs loose as his wide eyes gape at you, and he launches himself off of his bench, crossing to sit next to you. “What do you mean, you almost died?!” He grabs your hand, bringing it up from beneath the surface and clutching it tightly. “Are you okay now?”

“Oh, no, Hoseok!” Despite feeling a brief flash of guilt for making him worry, you can’t stop the laughter that bursts from your lips. “I’m sorry, I’m just being overly dramatic. It wasn’t a near-death experience or anything like that.” You squeeze his hand quickly before pulling yours away to point at your other shoulder, twisting in your seat to show Hoseok. “We went hiking after a thunderstorm and I slipped on some rocks and cut my arm bad enough to warrant a trip to a nearby hospital and some stitches. But it put me off camping for a while.” 

He shakes his head, hand automatically reaching out to your shoulder. He stops an inch away. “May I?” 

You nod, and he strokes the scar on your bicep, long fingers drawing the line of the jagged cut like he’s studying the shape. The strokes turn to gentle caresses as he speaks. 

“I'm sorry that happened to you.” He turns so he’s facing you, his calf brushing up against yours. “You can barely see the scar, though.” 

“I know,” you reply, replacing his fingers with your own, rubbing at the mark on your arm. “But I can feel it.” 

He hums, propping his head on his hand, elbow bent on the ledge of the tub. “How did your ex take it when you told them you didn’t want to go camping any more?” 

“Oh, well, we broke up when we got back from that trip, so, uh, it wasn’t really an issue.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. We weren’t a good fit, anyway.” 

He hums again, and you wonder if you’re boring him. You hate talking about your exes, the few of them there are. But then he smiles. 

“We don’t have to talk about your past relationships if you don’t want to. Like I said, you should be relaxing tonight. There’s no need to talk about anything stressful or upsetting.” Something skims along your knee and you glance down, finding his hand brushing against you. “Just let me know if you want me to stop. Anything we’re talking about, anything I’m doing. Say the word and I’ll stop immediately. It’s all about making sure you’re comfortable.” 

Your lip tucks itself between your teeth as you nod. His hand skims higher, tracing up your thigh a little. The heat from the hot tub can’t stop the shiver that passes through you. 

“I don’t mind talking about this stuff. There’s just not much to say,” you declare with a wry grin. 

Hoseok laughs, shifting in his seat to reach the strawberries. But instead of eating one, he offers it to you, holding the berry an inch from your lips. You lean forward, teeth biting into the tip. Tart juice splashes onto your chin as you tear the berry in half, and you squeak in surprise.

“Oh, juicy!” 

Your neck flames as you wipe your mouth, cringing at your own awkward reaction. Hoseok merely grins, hand reaching out to swipe at a drop on your jaw. His thumb lingers on your chin a few seconds longer than necessary for such a tiny bead of liquid. 

“Cute,” he declares, and the tub could be filled with icy cold water and you’d still be burning up. But now it’s not due to embarrassment.

Hoseok still holds the rest of the berry. Carefully, you wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug, bringing his hand back to your lips. This time, your bite is slow, eyes locked on his as you close your lips around the fruit. Even though you’re the one eating, he’s the one swallowing loudly as you finish the berry, tongue slipping out to lick your lips lewdly. Your chest swells with pride, knowing that you’ve had an effect on him with your actions. 

“Still cute?” Somehow, you manage to smoothly purr the question despite how shaky you feel under Hoseok’s gaze. He’s peering at you like you’re one of the berries and he’s holding himself back from just eating you whole. 

Hoseok barks out a surprised laugh, and you join him with an equally shocked gasp as he clasps his hands around your waist, yanking you into his lap. Your legs fall open into a straddle as he holds you in place with one hand gripping each thigh. 

“Yes. Still cute.” There’s no waver in his words. He looks up at you with hooded eyes, tilting his neck until his nose bumps yours. “Cute and sweet. The perfect combination, like strawberries and cream.”

“Mmm, am I sweet?” you wonder out loud. It’s not something anyone’s ever really called you before.

“I’m sure you are, but I’d love to find out,” he whispers, and surges up to catch your mouth with his. He kisses away your giggles, and you tangle your fingers in his silky locks as his hands on your legs slide you closer to him. 

“What a fucking line,” you exhale as he trails kisses along your jaw, back towards your ear. His tongue flicks out to trace the curve, making you shudder.

“Well, I am a pro,” he replies, grin evident in his tone. 

You laugh, head tipping back, and he immediately dives towards your neck, to suck at the sensitive skin there. Groaning, you curl your fingers into his hair more, keeping his head in place, urging him to mark you up. He understands your silent command and leaves a trail of bites down to your collarbones. 

Hoseok’s hot mouth is driving you crazy, and you rock forward, trying to find some friction, dragging your core against his groin. He’s hard, rutting his heavy cock against you, and you moan in tandem. A jolt of desire shoots through you, but there’s something else gnawing at your gut, something that makes your stomach flip. A voice whispers that tonight is going to end like so many others, the words striking you like a bolt of electricity. 

Lost in your anxiety, you go still in Hoseok’s arms, and he lifts his head before he straightens up. Dark eyes examine your face for a moment. “Too fast?” 

You start to shake your head no, stop, then nod, glancing down at his chest. His hands relax their hold on your thighs, pushing you back onto his legs a little. 

“Let’s slow it down a little. We’ve got all night to do whatever we want - we don’t have to rush into anything.” He ducks his head until he meets your eye line. “And we don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” 

“You keep saying that.” 

“Because it’s true. There’s no pressure from me for you to do anything at all. I’m perfectly happy to sit here and talk to you all night, if you’d like. Or I can shut up and we can just enjoy the view.” He nods towards the sky, and you look up to see a bright moon rising above the trees, flanked by several twinkling stars. “It’s all about you tonight. Whatever you want.” 

You nod, and then bite your lip. “Can I be honest, then?” 

“Of course! Anything you tell me will be just between us.” 

“The hot tub bench is kind of hurting my knees.” 

He moves so swiftly, diving forward off the bench, grabbing you by the waist again to guide you into a sideways sitting position, your ass pressing into his thighs, that you let out a shocked laugh. 

“That’s better, thanks.” You drape your arms over his shoulders again as he locks his hands behind your back. 

The heat of the moment has dissipated, and the two of you fall back into easy conversation. Hoseok keeps his hands on your back, a light, comforting touch as you try to relax again. He doesn’t try to kiss you or do anything else that you would consider making a move. He seems content just to talk to you, like he said, and you let the warm bubbling waters of the hot tub carry your tension away again. 

It’s tempting to just sit there all night in his arms, but eventually, you have to get out of the hot tub. Hoseok points to the steps leading down from the deck to the back of the yurt. “There’s a shower back here, if you want to rinse off.” 

Back inside the yurt, you find that Hoseok has laid out the two fluffy white bathrobes that had been hanging on the bathroom door. “Here,” he says, handing you one. “I thought this would be comfortable for you to wear after soaking for so long. You have to feel this - it’s so soft.” He rubs a corner of the robe on his face, eyes closing for a second in bliss, before he grins at you. You can’t help but grin back. 

Taking the robe into the bathroom, you peel off your wet swimsuit and hang it over the tub. Hoseok wasn’t kidding about the robe - it feels like you’re being gently hugged by the softest cloud. Before you step out of the small space, you glance at the mirror above the sink. This would be the time when you’d give yourself a pep talk, if you were in a movie. But pep talks aren’t really your thing, and there are no cameras here, just you and the calm face peering back at you. You look relaxed, at least. Maybe no pep talks are needed after all. 

Hoseok is sitting on the bed when you reemerge. He’s already wearing his bathrobe, perched on the edge, hands resting on his lap. He pats the space next to him, but you hesitate, standing in front of him. 

Here it is. The moment for which you planned this entire trip. 

“So…” you say, fingers playing with your belt. “Now what?” 

He laughs. “That’s up to you. What do you want to do?” 

Several scenarios run through your head, including the thought of sending him away for the night and just spending the rest of your mini-vacation alone, lying in bed, eating strawberries and watching movies. It’s not a bad backup plan, honestly. But you’re here for an answer, and that’s not the way you’re gonna get it.  

You climb onto the bed, settling yourself so your back is resting against the headboard. Once you’re comfortable, you crook your finger, inviting Hoseok to join you. He mirrors your pose, but doesn’t say anything, waiting for you to speak. 

Instead, you lean over and press your lips to his. He reacts immediately, one hand cradling the back of your head as the other caresses your cheek. Your own curl into his robe, gripping the plush fabric as you murmur, “Can we just do this for a while? I like kissing you.” 

Hoseok nods, nose bumping yours. “Absolutely.” 

Time seems to slow to a crawl as you and Hoseok make out, reclining against the bed with your arms wrapped around each other. He’s a fantastic kisser, taking your breath away with long, deep kisses that make your thighs twitch. He nips at your bottom lip, and when you gasp, slips his tongue into your mouth to tangle with your own. There’s a need building in you again, and before long, you’re dragging him down with you, sliding along the faux fur blankets to lie on your back. He follows without delay, covering your body with his own. 

Heaven. He feels like heaven, pressed up against you. You’ve missed this feeling so much, the weight of someone else on you, hands roaming your sides, cupping your face, lips trailing down your throat, over your collarbones. It’s been far too long.

Hoseok pauses at the point where the v of your robe lies on your chest and glances up at you with darkened eyes and kiss-swollen lips. His hair is messy due to your inability to keep your fingers out of it. He might feel like heaven, but right now he looks like an absolutely sinful dream. 

“Is it okay if I untie this?” he asks, lithe fingers tugging lightly on your loosely-tied belt. 

You nod, then find your voice. “Yes. Please.” 

Instead of making swift work of the knot, Hoseok pulls on the ends slowly, and your breath hitches in anticipation. Once the material slips free, he brings his hands up, each clutching a side of your robe to peel it back, exposing your breasts to the cool air of the room. Almost immediately, your skin pebbles, a rush of goosebumps rippling down your skin. Hoseok tuts. 

“Sorry, love,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your hardening nipples. “Let me warm you back up.” 

And then he lowers his mouth to your breast, forming a warm, wet seal. 

“Oh!” you keen, head lolling back as Hoseok’s hands cover your chest, large palms doing their best to massage away your chills. His tongue dances around your nipple, tracing circles that grow larger and larger as he laves at your breast. Once it’s completely coated, he licks his way to the other breast, repeating his actions. 

He spends several minutes this way, going back and forth. The robe is still gathered shut below your navel, but as you writhe beneath his hot mouth, it shifts, granting him more skin to paint with his tongue. He trails down your stomach, kissing your belly button and laughing at your stuttered breath when the sensitive skin there spasms from the tickling brush of his lips. 

Still, even with your robe falling open, he doesn’t make any move towards where you want him most, until you finally moan, “Hoseok. Keep going, please.” 

He glances up at you for a second, and must see the need written on your face, because he smirks. “I’m sorry, love, I was trying to take my time. Am I moving too slowly for you?” 

“A - a little,” you admit, voice shaking as he kisses across your belly, from hip to hip. His pink lips are as plush as the bedding that surrounds you. “But if you’re, um, if you’re enjoying yourself, then you don’t have to… stop.” 

His laugh tickles your stomach, and you tip your head up to look at him where he lies, halfway down the bed, chin resting on your torso. “Oh, I’m definitely enjoying myself. But the question is whether you are enjoying it? Because I don’t wanna sound like a broken record or anything, but this is all about you tonight.” He beams, a bright smile sending a rush of warmth to your cheeks. “So if you want me to move a little faster…” his hand disappears beneath the folds of fabric covering your thighs, “then that is what I shall do.” 

Dropping your head back onto your pillow, you sigh as you feel his fingers grip the soft skin at the apex of your legs, urging them apart. The robe you wear is completely open now, hiding nothing but your arms, still tucked into the sleeves. 

“Can I ask you something? And feel free to say yes but then not answer.” 

You lift your head again. “You can ask me anything.” Hoseok’s earned your trust tonight with his kind words and actions. And besides, he’s right, you don’t have to answer anything that you don’t want to. You’re the one in charge here.

“When you’ve been with someone in the past, have they ever moved this slowly?” As he speaks, he lowers his mouth to your thigh, leaving a tender kiss behind. “Or is it usually just get you naked and then get going? Straight to the sex?” 

“Usually the latter.” None of your exes were much for foreplay. A few minutes of kissing, maybe, a little fingering to open you up, and then right to it. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d get a little oral with the fingering, but it never lasted very long. Honestly, sometimes it felt so mechanical, like you were a damn car they were trying to start. Put the key in the ignition, step on the gas, turn the key. Kiss, finger, fuck.  

When you explain all of this to Hoseok, he shakes his head, nose brushing your other thigh. “That’s what I thought you’d say,” he sighs, sounding disappointed. “Look, I don’t mean to disparage someone I’ve never met, but… well, frankly, all those people who had you in their bed and didn’t take the time to savor all this beauty laid out in front of them were complete idiots. Every last one of them.” 

“Ah, well, I don’t know if I’m a ‘beauty’ -”

“No no.” Hoseok cuts you off. “I wasn’t asking for opinions. I was stating a fact.” The protest forming on your lips dies away as he sucks a love bite into your skin, at the junction where your thigh meets your crotch. “You’re breathtaking like this. Not just the way you look lying here, but the way you react to my touch, the sounds you make.” He groans, dropping his forehead onto your leg. “God, you make the most gorgeous sounds. You’re telling me no one ever wanted to take their time with you, make you moan like this again and again?” 

And as he finishes his thought, he finally slides a finger into you, right where you have been dying for him to reach. You moan loudly, back arching slightly, trying to take him in further. 

He hisses as he explores the tight wet heat of your cunt. “That’s it, that’s what I was talking about. That beautiful little cry of yours. Wanna fill the room with it, love.” He adds a second finger, and then his mouth follows, gliding along your slit before he seeks your clit. When he gently latches onto the sensitive nub, you whimper again, fingers flexing in the faux fur. 

For several wonderfully long minutes, the only sounds coming from his mouth are the lewd sucking noises he makes as he eats you out. Meanwhile, there’s an entire symphony falling from your own lips, whines and moans and the occasional “Hoseok” or “oh my God” all floating into the ether. Thankfully, there are no shared walls for this yurt, so you can be as loud as you want, because the man between your legs is devouring you so enthusiastically that there’s no way you could stifle yourself right now. And he’s clearly delighting in the clamor, based on how he keeps groaning into your cunt and rutting his hips into the bed. Which only spurs you on more. To think that you could turn him on like this… it’s a total ego boost. 

Hoseok’s ministrations have you squirming, hips bucking as you feel that familiar band tightening inside you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you chase your high, focusing on what he’s doing and trying to block everything else out. Including the nagging voice in your head that pipes up again, fretting that you’re going to lose it, that it’s not going to happen, that this whole weekend was a waste of time…

“You okay, love?” Hoseok’s gentle voice pulls you out of your head, and you open your eyes to find him watching you with a concerned look. 

“‘M fine,” you say, flashing him a smile, but it’s weak at best. His fingers withdraw and you whine a dissent, but he’s already crawling up the bed to lay beside you, grasping your chin as he kisses you. You lose yourself in the sweet lushness of his lips for a minute before he pulls away. 

“It seemed like you were getting close there,” he informs you. 

“You could tell that?” 

He grins, that cocky lopsided smirk that you’ve only seen a few times tonight but have come to absolutely adore. “If you know what signs to look for. But something happened. You went somewhere. In here.” His fingers brush over your temples. “Where’d you go?” 

With a heavy sigh, you roll onto your side to face him. “I just… I couldn’t drown out the voice. You know. The one that always says exactly what you’re afraid of? That voice. It started talking and I couldn’t shut it out.” 

He rakes his hand through his hair, creating a fluffy brown halo around his head as he huffs out a sigh. “I almost hate to ask but… this voice you hear. Is it telling you what someone else told you?”

Eyes lowered, you give the tiniest of nods. Not just someone. Multiple people, their words blending together, but it’s all the same message: there’s something wrong with you. 

He lays a hand on your arm. You watch his long fingers as they gently stroke your skin. He speaks your name just as delicately. “I know we just met, but I can promise you that those people were lying to you. They blamed you out of their own guilt, rather than admit to themselves and to you that they weren’t able to satisfy you.” 

That’s what you want to believe, more than anything. It’s a bit hard to put it into practice.

“Yeah,” you reply quietly, giving him a brief smile. “I - I know. It’s just… their words are stuck in there.”

“Hmmm.” Hoseok’s gaze flits between your eyes as he contemplates your answer. “Tell me something, love. Before that voice chimed in, were you enjoying the moment?” 

His fingers gently brush your cheek as you nod at him. 

“And how do you feel right now? Is the moment over?” 

That moment is definitely over, but you’re still happy to have Hoseok here with you, and you don’t want to stop. It’s been ages since you’ve been with anyone, and you’ve missed the touch of another so much. 

“I’d like to keep going, actually,” you admit, head lowered shyly, and his fingers slip under your chin to tilt your face up until you lock eyes with him. 

“Say that again, love, a little louder,” he implores you.

“I want to keep going,” you declare, with confidence. And bring your hands up to his face to pull him in for a kiss. Hoseok hums into your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut, and you close yours as well, letting yourself fall back into the sensation of his lips on yours. When the need to breathe becomes overwhelming, you pull away, gasping. “But what about you?”

He frowns. “What about me?” 

“You wanna keep going?”

His laugh is a low purr. “If you’re asking because you’re afraid you killed the mood or something….” He gestures to his robe, where a tent has sprung up over his groin. “It’s not ruined for me.” 

He shuffles closer, pressing you up against his chest as he kisses you again. What lies beneath that tent presses into your thigh, and you marvel at the fact that he still wants you. It’s another ego boost, one you sorely need at this moment, and it’s enough to bolster you to take charge again and pull him on top of you as you roll onto your back.

He moves eagerly, happily rutting into your open thighs, the soft fabric of the robe rubbing against your bare cunt. 

“Hoseok,” you mumble, fingers plucking at the collar of his robe, “take this off. I need to feel you.”

Without hesitation, he tosses the robe onto the floor. As he hovers over you, skin shimmering like amber under the warm lighting of the bedroom, you trace your hands down his chest and stomach, running your fingertips along the dark treasure trail that leads from his belly button to his groin. He shudders, a tiny groan letting you know he’s enjoying the attention. 

He notices the way your eyes keep flicking to his cock. “Do you wanna touch it, love?” 

“Can I?” Your fingers twitch, wanting to wrap themselves around his impressive girth. He’s not the biggest you’ve ever seen, but he’s thick enough that you know you’re in for a stretch. 

“Of course you can. Touch as much as you’d like, I’m at your command tonight.” 

“Well, yeah, I know that but…” You run your hands up his muscular thighs, delighting in the way they jerk under your fingertips. Shifting closer, you cup his cheek and bring his mouth down towards you, barely an inch from your own. “Do you want me to touch you?” 

“Fuck. Yes, please, touch me,” comes Hoseok’s hurried response, as he closes the distance between you with a heated kiss. Just as your lips meet, you curl your hand around the base of his cock, lightly stroking upwards. He’s warm, velvety skin pulsing in your grip as you rub your thumb over the tip. He moans into your mouth, and you swallow it down eagerly. 

As you continue to roll your hand up and down, Hoseok drops his head to your neck, pressing sloppy kisses there. “Feels so good, love,” he whispers, and he drags his fingers down your lower stomach. You instinctively arch into his hand as he cups your heat, palm rubbing small circles against your clit. “Don’t stop.” 

“Ahh, Hoseok,” you sigh as he slips a finger between your sodden folds. He has such lovely fingers, so long and flexible, stretching and stroking inside you. 

“That’s it, love, keep talking. Tell me what you like.”

What you like? He should know that. When you booked his services, you’d filled out a little questionnaire with your likes and dislikes. Your wants and your turn-offs. 

“But I already ahhh fuck - already told you, oh god,” you groan, statement crumbling into babbled exclamations as Hoseok fondles your clit, giving the little pearl a good shining. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” he laughs, “and I did read your list, but I want you to tell me, right now, what you want. I wanna hear it from your sweet mouth instead.” He gently pries your fingers from his length, kissing away your pout. “Sorry, but you were starting to feel a little too good.” 

“But I want to make you cum,” you protest, and he closes his eyes for a second before fixing you with a dark stare. 

“Oh, you will, love, don’t you worry. But I’ll be damned if I’m the first to go tonight.” 

This time, when he kisses you, it’s slow and heavy, his tongue languidly teasing yours, teeth pulling your bottom lip into his mouth so he can suck on it. His fingers slide back inside you with no resistance, your arousal soaking them fully as he scissors you open. You feel his cock pressing into your hip and try to lift your lower half to give him some friction, but he’s holding you down too much for it to work. 

Again his fingers find that soft spot inside you, and your head snaps up. “Fuck, Hoseok!” 

“Ah, you like that? Right there?” He strokes it again, and you nod furiously. 

“Yes, god, I love your fingers!” You’d be embarrassed at your zealous response if you weren’t in the throes of bliss right now, toes curling as Hoseok’s palm caresses your clit again.

“I’m glad to hear that, love, because they can’t get enough of this beautiful pussy of yours,” he murmurs, head bent over your chest, breath ghosting over your breasts. “So warm, so tight. Just begging for them, sucking them in again and again.” His fingers plunge faster, stroke deeper. “Could do this all night if you wanted.”

The stirring in your gut tightens, warmth spreading across your torso, down your thighs. “Please. I need more,” you moan, bucking your hips to try to meet his thrusts. 

Hoseok grunts, propping himself up on his other elbow as he buries his hand inside you. The fierce look of determination on his face creases his brow as sweat beads on his forehead. It’s too much, watching this sex god fingerfuck you wantonly like this, so you close your eyes. 

Almost immediately, the voice speaks again.

And then you feel a hand on your cheek and you open your eyes to find Hoseok looking at you with a softer expression. “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t go away again. Stay with me,” he says, a command and a plea mixed in one. 

You nod, mesmerized by the warmth glowing in his eyes. His fingers find a new rhythm as he holds your gaze. “Are you still liking the way I’m touching you, or do you want something else now? Hmmm? Think you’re ready for my cock now?”

“Oh god,” you groan, “mmm, I think - I think I’m ready.”

Hoseok’s lips curl, dark eyes still studying your face as his thumb applies just the right amount of pressure to your clit to make you gasp. He lowers his mouth to your ear, nibbling on the lobe before he whispers, “Say it like you mean it, love. Tell me exactly what you want. Or do you want to hear what I want to do to you first? How I want to bend you over and fuck you so hard, the only voice you’ll hear is your own, screaming out my name?”

“I want that too, fuck, Hoseok, please fuck me!” The words explode out of you as if they were just waiting on the tip of your tongue the whole time. Which, maybe they have been. You came here intending to be fucked, and that desire has only grown through the evening. 

With a pleased laugh, Hoseok hops off the bed to rummage through his robe until he pulls a condom from one of the pockets. Then he climbs back on the bed, kneeling in front of you, one hand lightly gripping his cock as he looks at you. 

“Lay back and let me make you feel good.” He pauses at the expression on your face. “Unless you have something else in mind?” 

With a grin, you reach out and pluck the condom from Hoseok’s hand. He huffs a breathy laugh as you place a palm on his chest, pushing him back towards the headboard again. Leaning back, he grants you another smirk as he stretches his legs in front of him, erect cock bouncing against his firm stomach.

“Is this where you want me?” he rasps in a low rumble. Biting your lip, you nod, holding yourself back from leaping on him only long enough for you to commit his image to memory. Hoping you never forget the look in his eye as he waits for you to make your move. 

Still clutching the condom packet, you shuffle forward on your knees until you’re between his legs. Before you do anything else, you take his cock in your hands, giving him a few short strokes just to hear him moan again. He’s starting to pant when you finally release him, hands fumbling with the packet for a minute before you manage to rip it open. Your fingers move more nimbly as you sheath him. 

His hands wrap around the backs of your thighs, guiding you to straddle him. As you hover over his lap, hands on his shoulders, you take a moment to breathe. He smiles softly up at you, and with your next inhale, you sink down.

You were right. Hoseok’s thickness stretches you deliciously, hard length parting your tight walls, rubbing over every dripping inch inside. His tongue flicks out to lick his lips as you settle yourself on his thighs, reveling in the feeling of being so fucking full. 

It’s been way too long. 

“Doing okay, love?” he asks after a moment. 

“Fuck yes,” you reply, grinning at his giggle. His thumbs rub encouraging circles into your hips, but he doesn’t do anything else, clearly waiting for you to set the pace. 

“If you just want to sit on my cock for the rest of the night, I’m fine with that. You feel like heaven. Don’t even have to move. We can just stay like this.” 

A lock of his dark hair falls into his face as he beams up at you, and you push it behind his ear, shaking your head.

“Not that I wouldn’t love to cockwarm you all night, but…” Pushing yourself up, you slowly start to ride him. “Isn’t this more fun?” 

His response is a low groan and a squeeze of your ass. Laughing, you roll your hips, head kicking back as his cock brushes against your g-spot. Hoseok leans forward, the angle helping repeat the action, and you lace your hands behind his neck as you pick up the pace. 

“Shit, just like that,” he hisses, encouraging you to ride him faster. “Fucking taking me so good, love. How’s that feel?” 

“Feels, ahhh, feels so amazing, ‘seok.” 

But as good as he feels, it dawns on you that your energy is flagging. There’s no way you can keep this up for very long. 

When your speed starts to falter, and you fall silent again, Hoseok snaps into action. His hands grip your sides as he kisses you, nudging your nose with his own. “Focus on me,” he instructs you gently. Right before he begins to thrust into you like a fucking jackhammer. 

“Hoseok!” you yelp, eyes rolling back into your head. “Oh holy fuck!” 

“That’s it,” he grunts through gritted teeth, thighs smacking off your ass. “Let me take over. You don’t need to do anything now but sit here and enjoy this, okay? I’ve got you.” 

His cock is pumping into you so swiftly that you’re panting too hard to form a coherent sentence, so you don’t even try, nodding at his promise. When his arms wrap around your waist, you go pliant, letting him tip you backwards so he can pound into you at that perfect angle again, hitting your g-spot over and over. It’s so intense that you give up on words completely, just letting your moans communicate your thoughts. Which are currently along the lines of oh fuck oh my god so good so good!

You clutch at him, fingers leaving indentations in his skin as you urge him close enough to capture his mouth with yours. There’s a wild desperation in your kiss, which he must read as he matches you frenzied tongue for tongue, frantic bite for bite.

“I’ve got you, love,” he repeats, leaning forward again until your back hits the mattress. He slips out of you only momentarily to adjust your position, bringing both of your legs up to rest on his strong shoulders. “Don’t take your eyes off me for a second, okay? I’m still here, with you. You feel me?” He plunges back into your waiting warmth. 

You feel him in every inch of you, from your swollen lips to your shaking thighs. He takes your whimper for the answer it is. 

“That’s what I thought.” How the fuck is he able to pound into you like this and still speak? His prowess has your mind reeling. “I need you to know just how fucking good you feel, love. I hope you don’t mind if I fuck you all night, because I don’t want this to end. Any of it. Wanna taste you again, maybe have you sit on my face for a while?”

“Hoseok…” That tension is rising again. 

He shifts slightly, hands flexing in your thighs as he holds them to his chest while he drives into you. “Then I’d love to take you out back and make you bounce on my cock in the hot tub. Have you ever had hot tub sex? The jets on your clit will have you seeing stars. Or so I’ve been told.” He smirks. “Then I gotta hit it from behind, at least once. I need to see this ass dance up close.” His right hand slaps your cheek lightly. 

His filthy mouth is pushing you closer and closer to what you’ve been trying to find all night. It’s here, finally, your answer. Your high. This time, you don’t close your eyes, but keep them focused on the man confessing all the things he wants to do with you.

Hoseok’s control seems to be slipping as he swears loudly. “Goddamn, I want to do this all night, love. Just let me make you feel so good. I know you want it, love, tell me you want it.” 

“Ho-hoseok,” you stutter, your legs falling from his shoulders as you tangle your fingers into his hair, “I want it, I want it, kiss me, kiss m-”

He cuts you off with a passionate kiss, hot skin sliding against yours as he lies on top of you, fucking into you deeply. It’s exactly what you need, exactly what you want, and with a loud whine, you finally come. 

It’s not the same as any of the orgasms you’ve given yourself. It’s more intense, wave after wave of pleasure radiating from your core, spreading throughout your body. Goosebumps ripple down your thighs as you clench around Hoseok, and he groans, still thrusting away until his own euphoria arrives and he joins you in your wailing. 

It’s not until he collapses on top of you that your peak finally subsides. As thoughts start to filter back into your head, you hear that voice again. 

This time, you just laugh, and tell it to fuck off forever.

“What’s so funny?” Hoseok mumbles from between your breasts.

“Nothing,” you reply, running your hand through his sweaty hair to push it off his forehead. “I’m just happy.” 

He just grins, and you can’t stop yourself from kissing away his smile. After a moment, the kiss becomes a series of small pecks, before he rolls onto his side, fixing you with another questioning look. “So how do you feel, now that you have your answer?” 

“I feel fucking fantastic,” you declare, earning more of his musical giggles. “Thank you, Hoseok.” 

He shrugs. “I just helped you get there, you figured it out for yourself.” 

“So… do you have to go now? Or did you mean all of those things you said earlier?” You drum your fingers on his chest. “I believe there was something about the hot tub jets? That sounded pretty interesting.” 

That sexy smirk makes a reappearance. “I’m yours all night, love. What do you want to do now?” 

You tell him. All night long. 

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© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

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[montrealmadison]

I'd love to read a happy snuggly fic about Bitty & Jack.

Number #15 (for Bitty 😉)

thank you for this delightful prompt! whenever i get stuck on where to start with jack and bitty, i always revert to them snuggling. this was a really nice excuse to polish a scene that i've had kicking around my WIP folder forever. hope it's okay that the boys took it in a, shall we say, steamy direction. ❤️

15. zimbits + happy snuggly vibes + I Love You Always Forever by Betty Who for @jadedmandarin81

You’ve got the most unbelievable blue eyes I’ve ever seen You’ve got me almost melting away

Hot morning sun on his shoulders, a big, hot hand on the small of his back, and Bitty has no clue where he is.

He blinks, and—right. His childhood bedroom, sometime after sunrise: lemon-yellow walls, a mess of posters, crisp white curtains hanging limp from the humidity. It can’t be very late, because Coach’s morning shower isn’t whining through the walls yet. July fifth dawns the same every blessed year: Mama having a lie-in, Coach firing up the truck, long lazy days of few words and a blue sky and a beer that Bitty's too young to be drinking. Lord, what he wouldn’t give to be fifteen and at the lake right now, cold water closing over his head. 

He brings himself slowly back to earth by wishing really hard that the Olympic-sized rink behind Michelle Kwan’s paper smile would just sort of… replace the air conditioner they haven’t been able to afford to fix for years. As it stands, he’s fucking hot.

Jack, for all that he’s peaceful in sleep, is not helping. Bitty’s cheek is stuck to his bare chest, his massive thighs are trapping Bitty’s calves, and every inch of bare skin in between is tacky and gross. The Jack of his dreams is so tangled up with the call of the ice that he feels like he should be cold by default. Jack should be white and gray and blue; frosted winter mornings, distant sun, minty breath. The Jack of reality is—well, he’s beautiful, dark sweeping lashes and all that, but he’s just as sweaty as Bitty is and his breath definitely does not smell like mint.

Bitty doesn’t mind.

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He’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. From the moment they’d locked eyes at baggage claim, this weekend has been the weirdest song and dance: Bitty letting Jack into his life inch by inch, arranging the pieces of his soul for approval. Here’s where I went to high school. Here’s our family dinner table. Here’s my truck bed. Let’s make out. In return, apparently, he gets to have this now: his college hockey captain, on his back in Bitty’s bed, breathing slow and deep and measured with his hand skimming Bitty’s ass. 

That’s my best friend. The thought makes Bitty feel floaty and weird. He knows Jack’s gym schedule and the slant of his real smile and what he eats for breakfast, but he’s only seen him sleep once: the morning of graduation, when they’d climbed up to the roof of Faber and Bitty had woken up on Jack’s shoulder, in the folds of a jacket that smelled like him.

He hadn’t let himself believe, even then, that they might be more. After all, the thing about Jack is that sooner or later he’s always stopped being Jack and turned back into Jack Zimmermann, a living legend in the shape of a teammate. Bitty had pretended it was easy, once, not to lean into the intimacy of knowing just a little more than everyone else. It feels new and exhilarating and dangerous for him to get to see Jack like this now, all pretenses abandoned, one of his wildest fantasies come to life.

Jack chooses that moment to stir, like he can hear Bitty’s thoughts shouting his name. Bitty feels the flush rising in his cheeks, embarrassed that Jack’s caught him staring—but Jack doesn’t seem to mind, just lets out a long satisfied breath through his nose and murmurs, morning-low, “Bittle.”

Lord, but that makes something pop in Bitty’s gut and then fizzle into butterflies. Before last night he’d never even really been kissed before, and now—and now. His senses are overloaded, filled with the flash-fire knowledge that at long last someone else wants this as badly as he does. 

“Jack,” he says, sure that his morning voice must sound squeaky and childish in comparison.

But Jack’s eyes on his face are sleepy dark blue, weighty with something that looks a hell of a lot like approval. Bitty follows the slow roll of Jack’s Adam’s apple so he won’t do something really embarrassing, like explode and die. 

“Bitty,” Jack sighs again. Jesus Christ. There go Bitty’s chances of getting out of this bed alive. “‘S’hot.”

“Yes,” Bitty grumps, but neither of them make a move to separate. That self-satisfied thing flashes through him again. Jack is, apparently, so into this, into him; the bruises to prove it are probably already darkening low on his belly and hips. Being watched this way makes Bitty feel slightly insane, drunk with power.

“I like this,” Jack says. His voice rumbles, far-off thunder. Bitty thinks about flash floods, dams breaking, the crackshot sound of shattering ice. 

“What?”

“Waking up with you.”

There’s the sincerity that’s been driving Bitty wild all weekend. He’s long since mastered the art of lying smoothly through his teeth, but Jack’s graceless honesty punches holes through every pretense he can muster. It’s how Jack got him on his back in the truck bed last night, why they apparently can’t stop talking unless they find other ways to occupy their mouths. Just like that, Bitty's cheeks are in full flame.

“Me too,” he says, too quickly. Jack doesn’t seem to notice. His arms are huge, and Bitty is welcome in them. He feels positively unhinged. He has zero desire to move.

“Do we have to get up?”

“Probably,” Bitty groans, seizing the change of topic with both hands. He thunks his forehead into Jack’s shoulder for emphasis. “Coach’ll be up soon.”

“‘Kay,” says Jack, not moving one blessed inch.

Bitty squirms a little, thrilled. They keep ending up on the same page, wanting the same things. Feeling bold, Bitty mouths over the hot expanse of skin between Jack's shoulder and his neck, loving the way Jack immediately makes that pleased sound deep in his throat. 

"Sorry."

“For—ah." 

Jack honest-to-god moans when Bitty reaches the spot beneath his ear, and that's it: Bitty's deceased. He's gone. He's gonna die right here in his childhood bedroom, and he'll be damn well pleased about it. "Don't be—sorry for what?”

“That it’s not private,” Bitty murmurs. He waves his free hand toward the door, beyond which his parents hopefully believe that Bitty and his good friend Jack are passed out in separate rooms after the (completely tame, very platonic) excitement of last night's festivities. It seems like a tall order even in his head. He's gonna have to spend the next month before he goes back to school being very careful about the thoughts he lets show on his face.

When Bitty flexes his toes against Jack's bare leg under the sheets to prompt an answer, Jack hums a little, turns and drags his nose lightly across Bitty's forehead. "Don’t be sorry,” he says. “Actually, I was thinking about that last night."

"You were? Huh," Bitty says. "Sounds like I didn't do a very good job, then."

Jack gives him a gentle, one-handed shove. "After... uh, well. After that." He blushes so pretty, right over his nose and hot up his cheeks. Bitty kind of wants to eat him whole. "What would you say about coming to visit me?"

Forget what he’d say; Bitty can barely even think about it without going insane. Just the two of them, alone, four soundproof walls and a chance to figure this out for real. "In Providence?"

"Yes,” Jack says. “And we can do, um. More. Of what we did last night.”

Bitty is acutely aware of Jack’s hand, which is now rubbing little circles into his back, and all the other places it was last night, and how much he’d like for it to be in those places again.

“Yes, okay,” he says, too quickly to be polite; Jack is grinning, though, so. Right answer.

"Deal."

Bitty smiles back, megawatt. "Deal."

"First I have to make it home, though," Jack says. "Got a whole kitchen to get ready for you, eh?"

He says get ready like it has multiple meanings, and Bitty gets to pick the one he wants. Despite the heat, he finds himself shivering in anticipation.

"Sounds amazing," Bitty says, definitely not just talking about the kitchen. He shoves Jack back, teasing. This is his best friend and so much more. "Then you better get packin', mister, you got a flight to catch."

When the alarm clock goes off down the hall, Jack rolls out of bed and goes for his bag, sleepy chirps in full effect. Bitty stays put, though, watching. The sun catches just right on the hard planes of Jack’s shoulders, melting winter into spring, and Bitty is okay with losing control.

[steddieas-shegoes]

I’ve seen a few really incredible headcanons and fics about Steve’s fear of water after everything and they are so important because they have all so accurately and beautifully covered the reality of dealing with actual PTSD and specific trauma that manifests in ways that may not make sense in the grand scheme of things (though to me it does make complete sense)

But I haven’t seen (and please share if you have because I’m desperately trying to find something) anything related to Eddie’s fear of water after everything

Like he didn’t even seem to be a fan of it before everything! And then he had to jump into a lake he knew could probably kill him to try to save people he barely knew after witnessing someone fucking die over it??? His introduction to the upside down was through a gate at the bottom of a lake!!! That man is traumatized!!!

But I do feel like it manifests differently for him and much later. Like initially he’s fine. He has no trouble with touching water, showering, even goes swimming in Steve’s pool with the kids when his stitches come out and he gets cleared by the doctors. He’s fine for so long, he kind of just assumes he’s got a “normal” trauma for everything.

But then it starts raining one night when he’s walking with Steve and Robin. And the way the rain falls feels so heavy and cold, he’s immediately taken back to the bats trying to eat him alive. It’s dark enough that the rain glows the same way the dust in the upside down does. He has a panic attack that takes both Steve and Robin sitting down on the pavement and talking him through it, breathing with him, touching him so he knows he can still feel them.

After that, he doesn’t go back in the pool; it’s too cold even in the middle of summer when it should be a relief. He doesn’t go outside if there’s even a chance of rain; he can’t feel the drops hit his skin or he’ll have another panic attack. He doesn’t take baths, and takes the fastest shower he possibly can; both feel too much like the pool or the rain. He doesn’t even wash his hands the way you’re supposed to, hating the lingering moisture even after he’s dried his hands so hard he rubs his skin raw.

It probably takes YEARS for him to move past any of it, and he never completely does. All it takes some days is hearing rain hit the roof of the trailer and he’s getting flashbacks that keep him frozen for hours.

But he isn’t alone.

Steve helps the most because he has his own shit to work through. Robin helps them both.

The kids help in the only ways they really know how: distractions. But he appreciates them for it all the same.

Nancy does research. Finds books about psychology and exposure therapy, which is a new science that hasn’t had nearly enough research but is worth a shot.

Jonathan and Argyle give him their best weed when he’s gone through exposure therapy with Nancy, stating that he deserves it for being brave enough to try pushing himself like that.

He’s probably never going to not flinch when it starts to rain, and he may never fully relax in the pool, sometimes the shower might turn into a quick rinse instead of a full wash, but he does get better.

[ao3soidade]

I’m definitely going to start writing some of the prompts y’all have sent me, but I had to get this out first. Canon-compliant Steddie, so... proceed with caution.

Eddie hadn’t had a chance to talk to Steve alone since they got back from the Upside Down. Not that he was looking for a chance to talk to him alone. He wasn’t. Yeah, it had been a pleasant surprise to find out Steve Harrington was actually a good guy, and maybe a slightly less pleasant one to realize that he was actually attracted to him, but that didn’t mean he had a crush or something. 

Having a crush on Steve Harrington would be a very bad idea. 

It didn’t matter if he had a lesbian best friend (Eddie wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. He just overheard. It wasn’t like he hadn’t suspected it before that, and she had clearly clocked him a mile away, so it was only fair.) No matter how accepting he was of Robin–shit, maybe he’d even be accepting of Eddie, if he knew–Steve was obviously, painfully straight. 

Eddie wasn’t even expecting to talk to Steve alone again, not really. Even if he kind of wanted to. It was probably better if he didn’t. That would make it easier to convince himself that he didn’t have a crush. 

After they got supplies at the War Zone, when they were safely secluded and everyone was getting to work on their plan, Eddie went into the empty Winnebago to clean up a bit. He wished he could take a shower, but anything helped when he was covered in alien slime and polluted lake water. So he washed his face, scrubbed as much dirt as he could off of his skin, even found some mouthwash in the medicine cabinet. And when he came out of the bathroom, Steve was waiting for him. 

Eddie’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He closed his mouth, swallowed. 

Steve smiled, and Eddie’s stomach did a flip. God damn it. He had a fucking crush. 

“Hey,” Steve said. “I just wanted to, uh, make sure you got your vest back.” He held the vest out to Eddie. 

For one insane moment, Eddie thought about telling him to keep it. Keep it? Really? A metalhead didn’t give away his battle vest, especially not to someone he barely knew. Eddie had spent years collecting all those pins and patches, saving up to get them at concerts, sewing them on by hand. He might as well ask the guy for his hand in marriage. 

“Thanks,” Eddie said instead, taking the vest from Steve. 

“So, how are you holding up?” 

Eddie laughed. “Me? You’re the one who almost died, dude.” 

Steve shrugged. “Not the first time.” 

“That doesn’t make it better. Probably worse, actually.” 

Steve shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” His smile looked a little forced now. Great. Eddie must be annoying him. He never did know when to keep his mouth shut. 

“Yeah.” Eddie punched Steve’s arm lightly. “I know you will. You’re the big hero. You’re gonna kick the bad guy’s ass, save the town. Get the girl,” he added. 

Steve looked down. “It’s not like that.” 

Eddie’s heart sank. This could be their last conversation, and Eddie was fucking it up. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Steve said quickly. “You’re right. I was hung up on Nancy for way too long. But we’re not right for each other. I– I get that now.” 

“What do you mean? The way you look at each other,” Eddie said. “The way she jumped into the lake after you.” 

“So did Robin.” Steve looked Eddie in the eye. Eddie couldn’t read his expression. “So did you.” 

Eddie put his hands up. “Peer pressure, man. Everybody was doing it.” He made himself laugh, like it was no big deal, when he knew he must have been looking at Steve pretty much the same way Nancy had been. 

“You didn’t accuse me and Robin of being in love.” 

“Well, no. You’re obviously not.” 

“I wish Dustin could see that. He’s constantly trying to get us together.”  

Eddie laughed, for real this time. “Isn’t that kid supposed to be smart? Really barking up the wrong tree there.” 

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling a little before he stopped, looking curiously at Eddie. “Wait. What do you mean by that?” 

“Robin’s– She’s not really– It just doesn’t seem like you’re her type.” He raised his eyebrows at Steve. 

Steve frowned. “What do you–” Steve paused. He must know what Eddie meant by that, now. “Where did you hear that?” His voice was flat, cold. 

“I heard you two talking about a girl named Vickie? But I kind of figured, before that. I just didn’t know for sure.” 

“How?” Steve spoke quietly. It was the first time, in all of this, that Eddie had heard him actually sound scared. It made Eddie’s heart ache, to hear the fear in his voice, to see the cracks in that tough exterior. And it made Eddie’s heart ache to hear how much Steve cared about his friend, how much he wanted to protect her secret. 

“I don’t know.” Eddie scrambled for an answer that wasn’t the truth, but also wouldn’t make Steve worry. 

“You just figured? What do you mean? Did she do something? Did I do something?” 

“No,” Eddie said quickly. “Nothing. I—” Fuck it. What was Steve going to do, beat him up? Haul him back to town and let the angry mob at him? No. Because Steve Harrington was a genuinely nice guy, a fact that was really fucking with Eddie’s head right now. “It’s just like gay intuition or something. Ask Robin. She has it too. The first time she looked at me, I knew she had my number. She could tell.” 

Steve’s brow furrowed. “She could tell? That you’re…” he trailed off. 

“Gay. Yeah.” 

“Oh.” Steve’s expression was unreadable again. 

Eddie took a step back, licking his lips nervously. He thought it would be fine, or maybe just hoped so. Maybe the stupid crush was clouding his judgment. Either way, it was probably best to get out of punching range. 

Steve was silent for a moment. Eddie thought Steve must be running through all of their interactions again with this new context. The casual touches, the compliments, the–in retrospect–obvious flirting. Eddie was such an idiot. He moved further away. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere. I just, uh– I don’t know.” 

A look of realization crossed Steve’s face. “Dude, come on. I’m not gonna– Robin’s my best friend.”

“I know. But lots of guys are cool with it when it’s a girl. Two girls together is hot, right? A gay guy, that’s different.” 

Steve laughed, shaking his head a little. “Yeah, it’s definitely different.” 

What did he mean by that? Clearly he didn’t hate Eddie, didn’t seem disgusted by him, wasn’t rushing to get away from him. So what was the difference between how he felt about Robin being gay, and how he felt about Eddie being gay? 

“How is it different?” Eddie shouldn’t ask. He probably didn’t want to know. But the words came out before he had the chance to stop them. 

Steve stared at Eddie for a moment, brow furrowed and eyes searching. “I wish I’d listened to Dustin.” 

“What?” 

“He kept telling me I should meet you. That we would be friends. I didn’t believe him.” 

Eddie shrugged, hands out. “Don’t worry about it, Steve. I felt the same way when he told me about you. Guess we were both wrong.” 

Steve nodded. “But we can hang out. After the big fight. When all this is over.”

“I’m not sure if this is ever gonna be over for me, Steve.” He was beginning to doubt whether he would even be around for after.

“No. You’re right. It’s never over, not for any of us. That shit sticks with you.”

“So do murder charges.” Even if Eddie did make it through their plan alive, what did he really have waiting for him on the other side? Everyone thought he was a serial killer. 

“No, I’m telling you, man. The government knows all about this Upside Down stuff. They always cover it up. They’re gonna come in and explain everything away, like they did with the mall. Everyone believes that fire story.” 

“Steve.” Eddie looked at him sadly. “Did it ever occur to you that the easiest way to come up with a story everyone believes…” He paused. “Would be to use the story they already believe?” 

“But–” Steve shook his head. “You’re innocent.” 

“You think that’s ever stopped the government?” 

“Jesus.” Steve sat on the couch, looking at his hands. 

Eddie sat down next to him. “It’s okay,” he said. He put his arm up on the back of the couch, but kept it as far as he could from Steve’s shoulders. “You’re probably right. It’ll probably be fine.” 

Steve looked intensely at Eddie. Their faces were inches apart, and Eddie’s heart was racing. 

“You asked me earlier,” Steve said quietly. “Why it was different, with you and Robin. It’s actually, weirdly, exactly the same.” He looked away from Eddie, bit his lip. His eyes flicked briefly upward. “Because when Robin told me– At that time, I kind of had a thing for her.” Steve looked back at Eddie with a half smile and his eyebrows raised, expectant. 

“I don’t–” Eddie pulled his arm toward himself, shrinking away from Steve. 

Steve had a thing for Robin, and it was the same, somehow the same, with Eddie. But it couldn’t be the same. There was no way. Steve couldn’t have a thing for Eddie. He was straight, and in love with Nancy Wheeler, and wouldn’t have been caught dead with Eddie a week ago. How could it be the same? 

Steve must have figured out that Eddie liked him. It wasn’t so different from the situation with Robin. One person had a crush that was rejected due to incompatible sexualities. Close enough. 

Eddie’s first instinct was to deny it outright, but protesting too much might make it even more obvious. He decided to just play dumb. “What do you mean?” 

“If you’re right,” Steve began. “If this doesn’t all work out, then this might be my only chance.” 

“Your only chance for what?” Eddie barely got the words out before Steve’s lips were on his. 

Eddie froze, for a second. This couldn’t be real. It didn’t make any sense. But, he reasoned, nothing about the events of the past few days made any sense. Why did this have to? He relaxed, parting his lips and feeling Steve’s tongue slide between them. He put a hand on Steve’s jaw, then wrapped it around to the back of his head, pulling him closer. Steve’s hand went to Eddie’s waist, and Eddie wanted to do the same, hovering briefly before he remembered the wounds. It was too bad, because he would have loved to get a hand under the vest– Eddie’s vest. Watching him run around in that vest had been driving Eddie crazy, and a part of him wanted to tear it off of him. Another part wanted to leave it on, to do unspeakable things to Steve while he was wearing it. 

The hand on Eddie’s waist traveled to the edge of his t-shirt, toying with it tentatively before going underneath to touch Eddie’s skin. Eddie thought about stopping him, thought about how long it had been since he’d had a shower, how gross he probably was, but it was the end of the fucking world. Steve was gross, too, and Eddie thought it was hot as hell. Who could have guessed how good Steve Harrington looked covered in blood and grime? 

Eddie pulled away to shrug out of his leather jacket. He had barely taken a breath while they were kissing, and he was panting a little. 

“Need a second to catch your breath?” Steve smirked at Eddie. His breathing was even, seemingly unaffected. 

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Not all of us were on the swim team.” 

“Captain of the swim team,” Steve corrected. 

“I thought it was co-captain.” 

“So you were listening.” 

“You caught me.” Eddie smiled, then leaned forward to kiss Steve again. 

It wasn’t long before Steve broke the kiss again, his eyes traveling up and down Eddie’s body. 

“Co-captain needs a break now?” Eddie asked. 

“No,” Steve said. “I can hold my breath for almost five minutes.” 

“That,” Eddie said, tilting his head and widening his eyes. “Is very interesting.” Eddie had a lot of thoughts about that, but he tried not to dwell on them for too long. He was getting ahead of himself. 

“Is it?” Steve asked, smiling. Eddie wondered if Steve knew what he was thinking. He also wondered if he should be embarrassed about that, but he didn’t have much time to think about it before Steve was pulling off Eddie’s shirt. “Is this okay?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie said. It was more than okay. It was great, almost unbelievably so. It would be perfect if not for the circumstances, and if not for Steve’s injuries, which Eddie eyed warily. “Um, I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Steve shook his head. “Don’t worry about me right now.” He ran his hands down Eddie’s chest, stopping at his belt. He raised an eyebrow. “Handcuffs?” 

Eddie smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Steve?” 

Steve smiled. “Yeah, I think I would.” He pulled the end of Eddie’s belt out of the loops, and Eddie’s heart was beating so hard that he could hear it pounding in his head, couldn’t hear much else. 

And then the pounding was outside his head, on the door of the Winnebago, and they sprang apart. 

“What are you guys doing in there?” Dustin was yelling through the door. “Why is the door locked?” 

“You locked the door?” Eddie whispered. 

Steve gave Eddie a shrug and a half-smile, like who, me? Smug bastard. He planned this. Or at least part of it. Eddie wondered if Steve had guessed how far it would go. How far it would have gone, if not for Dustin banging on the door. 

“Guys?” Dustin’s voice got louder. “Is everything okay in there?” 

“It’s fine,” Steve yelled. “Can you give me a goddamn minute, please?” 

“Hurry the hell up,” Dustin yelled back. “We’ve got shit to do!” 

Steve shook his head. “That kid. I swear to god.” He looked at Eddie, who had fixed his belt and was now putting his shirt back on. “Sorry.” 

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Eddie said. “I, um– That was nice.” 

“Could have been nicer,” Steve said, gesturing toward the door. “Maybe it’s good he interrupted. I didn’t even take you out to dinner first.” 

Eddie laughed. It was weird, thinking about going on an actual date with Steve Harrington. He couldn’t quite picture it. 

“Now we have to get through this, so I can take you out to celebrate. Dinner, movie, the whole thing. Or whatever you want, if that doesn’t sound–” 

“Dinner and a movie sounds good,” Eddie said. It did sound good. Even if he couldn’t picture it, he would have liked to. He wanted to see what that looked like. 

Steve smiled. “Okay, then it’s a date.” 

Eddie smiled back, nodding. “Okay.” He really, really would have liked to see that. 

Later, when they were all dressed in probably-useless tactical gear, laden with makeshift weapons and lofty plans, Eddie promised Steve that he wouldn’t try to be a hero. He smiled, as genuinely as he could, but Steve didn’t look convinced. When he finally turned away, leaving Dustin and Eddie to their part of the plan, Eddie stopped him. 

“Hey, Steve?” When Steve turned around, Eddie held his gaze as long as he could, drinking in the sight of his face for the last time. Eddie wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. 

You go with Dustin. Let me do the dangerous part. I’ve got nothing to lose. But he had Steve to lose, and that was the whole thing, wasn’t it? I love you. But that wasn’t quite right. He barely knew him, he couldn’t be that sure yet. I could have fallen in love with you. That was better. That was true. He was already partway there. I’m having second thoughts. I don’t know if I can do this. The plan, the plan. He could do that. That was the easy part. But Eddie had been cooking up his own plan, for a while now, and Steve had messed it up. Steve had given him something to look forward to, a reason to get through this. The date. Eddie knew it could never happen. There were dozens of reasons why it couldn’t happen. But he wanted it to. 

I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it to our date. That was what Eddie wanted to say. That was what Eddie would say, if he had the nerve, if he weren’t such a coward. But maybe, if things went according to plan, Eddie’s plan, Steve could remember him as a hero. 

Eddie had to say something. He’d hesitated too long. People would start to get suspicious. 

“Make him pay.” 

Steve looked confused. He held Eddie’s gaze for a moment, searching for something, but Eddie didn’t give anything away. A short nod and Steve was off, still hopeful, still determined. Still the hero. 

[writersmorgue]

Febuwhump Day 7 - Suffering in Silence

I would like to preface this by saying I did NOT do much research for this so if you know much about first aid I am so sorry.

TWs in tags || read on Ao3 || wc: 1,817

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

Hanta saw this video the other day, about how parents could hear the most blood-curdling screams but only panic when their children are suddenly silent. 

Well, he thinks he knows the feeling. His friends are always loud, if in different ways. Mina is always squealing happily about something or another, Eijirou is always making noise, clanging weights in the gym or singing badly in the communal showers, Denki is always talking, always humming or stimming or body slamming into the nearest person he trusts not to punch him on instinct. Kyoka is always drumming on some surface or humming in the quiet of the lounge. 

And Katsuki, he’s just… Katsuki. If you asked anyone to describe him in one word, it would be loud. 

He thinks if any of them ever stopped making noise, he would be very concerned. 

So that’s why when the loudest person in their class announces he’s going for a solo hike during their squad camping trip, Hanta, ever the mom-friend, allows him to go with just a handheld radio and some flares. 

My quirk is a flare, dumbass. 

Hey, you never know!!

And then the scheduled return time passes, and he never shows back up. There’s no noise 

“I’m going to go look for him,” Eijirou checks his watch for the nth time, gathering his backpack and hastily shoving their med kit inside, “he probably wandered off the trail.”

They all know that’s not what happened. Katsuki is a stickler for rules, no way in hell would he have strayed from the path, and it’s unlikely he ignored to return time unless his phone or watch were dead. Even then, his survival skills are fantastic, he’d have come back by now. 

Which means something is wrong. 

Hanta chuckles thinly, “Or he wanted some more alone time, I’ll go with. Kyoka you should come too.”

They head out after confirming channels with Mina and Denki. 

Eijirou nervously fidgets with his fabric bracelet as they trace Katsuki’s supposed hiking path. “You don’t think he was like… kidnapped or something, right?” 

Kyoka shakes her head and removes her ear jack from the ground, “Nah, we’d know. Even if he couldn’t use his quirk he can still yell loud as fuck.” She offers no alternative. 

“Sensei and our parents are the only ones who know we’re here anyway, it’s not like Ka- like last time.” Hanta glances at Ejiirou warily. The kidnapping first year is still a rough subject for all of them, but he knows Eijirou was affected almost as much as Katsuki is even after almost two years. 

“Yeah.” Eijirou nods, reassured but still visibly anxious. 

They step out into a sort of clearing, leading to a steep incline and cliff with a small lake beneath it. There’s an inky smudge on the cliffside and the occasional resilient weed poking from the gray rocks. 

Hanta cups his hands around his mouth and yells Katsuki’s name a few times. “Well, he was definitely here. Do you think he went swimming?” Hanta suggests, walking down to the rocky mini-beach. 

Eijirou looks more concerned than before, but steps forward with Hanta, “No, he hates water. Nullifies his quirk.”

Hanta turns back to Kyoka, “You could try your quirk again.” 

Her expression startles him. Her eyes are wide, her mouth pressed into a thin line. But her ear jacks are still close to her head, so he isn’t sure-

She breaks off into a dead sprint, shoving past Eijirou and Hanta before they even have time to question her. Her radio and phone are tossed back as a last thought, but Hanta knows she still has her headphones on her, so whatever it is must be pretty urgent.

And then he spots it. 

A limp, pale hand jutting out of the water, wedged in the jagged rocks at the bottom of the cliff. It’s so distant that Hanta can barely make it out, but it falls directly below the smudge. 

Soot. From an explosion. 

Fuck, he thinks, just as Eijirou voices it before tossing his radio as well and jumping in. 

Kyoka has almost made it to Katsuki, because it can only be Katsuki under there, and takes a deep breath before submerging her head. 

Please, fuck please let him be okay. 

Hanta scrambles toward the water before remembering his training and pulling out his own radio. 

First sending an SOS to the emergency line on his own, he then radios back to Mina and Denki on Eijirou’s. 

“Did you find him?” Denki’s voice crackles through. 

“Uh,” Hanta falters, looking from the radio to the water. Three of his friends are now under there and he has no fucking idea what the situation is, “listen, Denki. I don’t know how bad it is yet, but we need Aizawa or someone to come-”

There’s a splash, and Hanta’s head shoots up, Eijirou’s head flings out of the water. A soggy head of blond hair resting on his shoulder, “HANTA!” He screeches, more desperate than Hanta’s ever heard. “TAPE! TAPE!” 

Kyoka’s head pops up next, gasping. Her arms flail as she tries to regain her buoyancy. “WE NEED DENKI HERE NOW!!”

Hanta flounders for a mere second before shooting into action. He arches his elbow and shoots a long rope of tape out to the edge of the lake. Eijirou immediately grabs onto the end, taking Kyouka’s hand as Hanta reels them in with a grunt. 

He jams the SOS button on this radio as well and yells at Denki to look at the sky in the direction they walked earlier, “Do you see the tape?” He arches his other arm and shoots another line into the sky. 

Denki is silent for a moment before he grunts an affirmative, and Hanta can tell he’s running. 

Eijirou finally makes it to shore, dragging Katsuki’s limp body with him. 

Well, not quite limp, he looks like he’s having some sort of seizure. 

“Hyp-poxic c-convulsion,” Kyoka stutters, body shivering severely. It’s cold enough to warrant Katsuki wearing a scarf and gloves, which Eijirou is actively stripping him of. Hanta can’t imagine how cold they must be. 

Denki enters the clearing just as Eijirou begins chest compressions, Hanta shouts at Mina to run back and grab all of their blankets. She’s frozen at the scene before her, but eventually nods hesitantly and turns back around. 

“Denki, shock him, you need to-” Eijirou is still pumping at Katsuki’s chest, so focused that Denki has to practically shove him off. 

“Back!” He shouts, rubbing his hands together and summoning his quirk. 

Kyoka yanks Eijirou away from Katsuki and cuffs his hands with her ear jack. 

Denki takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before resting his hands and pulsing electricity into Katsuki’s chest. 

Katsuki’s chest arches, the movement so unnatural and controlled that it sends a shiver down Hanta’s spine. 

Denki checks his pulse and resumes chest compressions, jaw clenching. They all collectively wince when they hear a dull snap. 

Mina comes racing back into the open, throwing the blankets on the ground next to Eijirou and sliding to her knees. 

“What’s happening?” A stern, tinny voice speaks out of Mina’s phone. 

Oh, Aizawa. Good call. 

“Katsuki went on a hike alone he must have fallen off the cliff. It looks like he tried to use his quirk but he ended up propelling himself into the water. He has a head injury, and probably needs stitches.” Kyoka relays with a dangerously monotone voice, the vigorous shaking has subsided for the most part.

Hanta’s eyes travel to where Eijirou is sitting near Katsuki’s head. His hand is pressing gauze against a bleeding wound on the upper part of his forehead. The skin around it is a shocking dark purple in comparison to the pale, almost blue tint of his skin. 

Kyoka continues, “He was underwater for an unknown length of time, when we pulled him out he was convulsing. Weak, irregular pulse. Hanta?” 

Hanta scoots forward, moving around Denki to press his fingers to Katsuki’s pulse point. 

“Weak, irregular.” He says, looking up at Mina’s phone as if Aizawa will climb out himself and fix all their problems. 

“Kaminari, shock him again, then check his pulse and tell me.”

Hanta removes his hands and allows Denki to take control again. 

“CLEAR!” He shouts, activating his quirk. Katsuki’s eyelids flutter this time, giving them a glimpse of his severely bloodshot eyes. 

Denki leans down and checks, “Heartbeat, no breathing.”

“Rescue breaths,” Aizawa instructs. 

Denki shuffles to Katsuki’s side, tilting his head up and plugging his nose. He presses their mouths together and breathes several times. Katsuki’s chest moves steadily with each exhale. 

“Is his chest rising?” 

“Yes.” Hanta and Mina both respond, staring as they wait for something to happen. 

Denki shifts back to chest compressions, blood smeared on his cheek from Katsuki’s head. 

“How long has he been above water-”

Katsuki’s eyes shoot open, pink liquid bubbling up from his mouth as he chokes. 

Mina gasps, “He’s-!” 

“Move him on his side!” Aizawa yells from the phone. 

Eijirou holds his head steady as they roll him, his chest heaving as water spews from his mouth and nose. 

“Fuck, is this good? Please tell me this is a good thing, I don’t know what to do,” Eijirou leans over Katsuki’s head, trying to see his face. 

“Kirishima, breathe.” Kyoka places a hand on his back, but Hanta can tell she’s panicking too. 

Denki reaches forward to check his pulse again, sighing when he feels something. He pulls out his phone with the other hand and holds it in front of Katsuki’s mouth. They breathe a collective sigh of relief when it barely fogs. 

“Steady pulse, he’s breathing.” Denki exhales, watching Eijirou’s arm as he rubs shaky circles into Katsuki’s back. 

“Send me your coordinates, we will be there in ten. Make sure he stays breathing, you hear me?” Aizawa grumbles, “I have to call his parents, call me back if his condition worsens.”

The call clicks off, three beeps cutting into the thick silence. 

Katsuki wheezes. 

“Holy fuck.” Hanta breathes, finding a truckload of emotion hitting him all at once. 

They almost lost him. They almost lost Katsuki to a stupid cliff. No villains, no fighting, just an unfortunate accident.

Katsuki spits up again, and Hanta looks down at the pool of water draining from his pale lips. 

Just… some water. 

Eijirou crumples, sobbing into Katsuki’s shoulder. He drags his fingers through wet blond hair, avoiding the wound that has finally stopped gushing blood.

“I… can’t believe that just happened.” Mina whispers, new manicure crusted with dirt, her knees scuffed and bleeding. 

“Yeah.” Denki nods, pulling himself away from Katsuki and into Kyoka’s side. 

“He’s going to be okay.” Hanta asserts, pulling one of the blankets over Katsuki’s shoulders and taking one of his hands. “He’s fine.”

He’ll say it as many times as he needs to.

[boldlyvoid]

find me at midnight.

Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Summary: Steve finds himself in a wanted man

Warnings: first times, sexuality questioning, blow jobs, anal fingering, anal sex, top eddie, bottom steve, falling in love at the worst time

word count: 4.3k

Lying to Robin isn’t something he’s good at, he’s never been able to because he didn’t like to lie to her. So when she asks where he’s going at midnight, all alone, when there’s a murderer from another dimension on the loose. 

“I’m just going to get myself some new clothes and things from my house, maybe even shower— you stay here with Nancy,” he points at her knowingly, “you don’t need to come with me, I’ll be fine.” 

She sighs. “Fine, but can you also bring my sleepover bag back with you?” 

That’s the least he can do. 

He slips out into the night, driving the empty roads to his house first because he can’t come back without robins things… that would make it weirder. He showers quickly, changes into something comfortable, and grabs a new pair of underwear and a shirt for Eddie if he wants it. Cause that’s where he’d going... to Eddie.

He throws her things into the backseat of his car and takes a deep breath, he promised Eddie he’d come back to Rick's house so he could actually get some sleep tonight. It took a lot of guts for the big brood to ask for help but from the look in his beautiful doe eyes… Steve couldn’t say no. he didn’t want to. 

He wanted to go protect him. 

It takes him a lot longer than he thought it would, he doesn’t turn onto Lover Lane until 12:23 but when he does, he turns his headlights off. He drives slowly so he doesn’t alert anyone in the neighbourhood and draw attention to the house in the back… it was supposed to be abandoned while Rick was in jail.

He parks about a block from where he’s going, he grabs everything he needs and quietly makes his way around to the backdoor that Eddie broke open. He reached through the broken glass and twists the door open, he kicks off his shoes and squints as he looks around. He can’t turn the lights on, obviously, and he didn’t bring a flashlight…

“Eddie?” He whispers as loud as he can, walking through the backroom and into the kitchen. 

“You’re late.”

“Fuck,” Steve drops everything he’s holding to grip his chest, “you’re a menace.” 

“That I am,” he hops off the counter and helps Steve pick everything up. “What’s all this?” 

“In case you wanted to change or got cold,” he explains, feeling stupid now that he said it out loud. 

“Thanks, I needed new underwear and socks… Rick only wears tighty-whites,” Eddie complains, holding up the dark blue checkered boxers that he thinks are black from how dark it is inside. 

He disappears to change leaving Steve in the living room, the big windows overlooking the lake. The moon and the stars are mirrored in the water, glistening and distorted from the current. It looked cold yet lovely. Inviting, even… he hasn’t gone on a spring swim in years. 

“Whatcha looking at?” 

“Jesus fucking christ,” Steve jumps out of his skin for a second time. “Can you stop it?” 

Eddie snickers, places his hand on Steve’s shoulder, and smiles, “sorry, it’s too easy.” 

“You’re handling this a lot better than I thought you would,” Steve compliments, returning his eyes to the lake. It’s easier to talk to him when he’s not looking at him. “Not that I thought you were weak or anything just when I first saw everything I lost it.” 

“but you fought,” Eddie sighs, feeling like a loser for running. 

“Oh, I ran,” Steve gives him a glance, watching his face light up. “I ran to my car and I stood there while the lights flickered and Nancy screamed for the thing to get off Jonathan and I— don’t tell anyone I said this, but I thought about letting it get him and then realized I’m the biggest cunt int he world, he was trying to find his bother not steal my girlfriend… so I went in and helped.” 

“And then he stole your girlfriend—

“You can’t really steal something that didn’t belong to me,” Steve cuts him off. He takes a deep breath and sighs. “Nancy is well, she’s Nancy. She belongs to herself and she knew what she wanted and it wasn’t me and I had to accept it. And honestly, as much as it hurt, I’m kinda glad it threw me into this shit, I can’t imagine if I wasn’t there what would’ve happened to Dustin.” 

“I always wondered why Dustin adored you,” Eddie admits, moving to take a seat on the couch, leaving Steve by the window. 

“He doesn’t adore me,” he laughs it off, joining Eddie and sitting on the recliner opposite him.

“He loves you like you’re his cool older brother who lets him tag along all the time,” Eddie smiles. 

And it’s a beautiful smile. His eyes glisten even in the dark. 

“Well… I mean, I kinda am?” 

“He adores you,” Eddie assures him. “I get it now… at first I thought it was a pity thing like you felt bad for being a dickhead for so many years that you wanted to join the big brothers/ big sisters of Hawkins… but this makes a lot more sense.” 

Steve's stomach turns remembering all the shit he put every kid through just to be cool. “Can I just say—

“Don’t,” Eddie waves it off. “It’s fine, you weren’t too bad to me, it’s all old news anyway.” 

“Still sorry,” Steve slips it in any way. “You’re the kind of person I should’ve been friends with, not Tommy or Carole. They were so fucking mean for no reason and it was like I didn’t have a personality until after they left, and I’m still trying to find all of me, but I know I would’ve preferred having you and Robin and Nancy in my life sooner.” 

“God permitting… we can be friends when all of this is over?” Eddie suggests. 

Steve wants that too, “why can’t we start now?” 

Somehow they feel too far away from each other, so Steve moves over to the couch, they face each other with their knees bumping, staring at each other's lips in the dark, “I don’t really want a friend tonight…” 

Steve feels his heart in his throat, he knew this is what he meant when he said he hadn’t found all of himself yet… and he has a feeling he might find it here. With his lips pressed against Eddies. 

So he leans in. 

Eddie’s hand meets his cheek first, holding him back from the kiss, he runs his thumb over the skin, “don’t do it out of pity.” 

“What if I do it to show you what there is to live for?” He whispers. “Cause if I find a piece of myself right here, right now, I’m not throwing it away after.” 

Eddie doesn’t mind being an experiment, not when he doesn’t know what tomorrow looks like for himself. So he leans all the rest of the way in, eyes closing as his lips meet Steve's. There’s a buzz, a small electric current that rips through their bodies as the kiss lingers. 

It’s Steve who comes in for another, and another and then they don’t stop. Steve's hands are in eddies hair as he pushes them back against the couch, hovering over him as their tongues make acquaintance with one another. He tastes like honeycombs and cigarettes, he smells like Irish spring and something woody… his hands are soft, his lips are softer. The sharp chill of eddies rings slides down his cheek, brushing his neck and then Eddie’s hands on his sides, pulling Steve down flush against himself.  

One of eddies knees slips between Steve’s, spreading his legs so he can rest against his thigh… it makes Steve’s knees weak. He’s never usually this desperate after a bit of kissing, but there’s something about Eddie that gets his motor running and he doesn’t ever want it to stop. He grinds against eddies thigh, sucks on his tongue and gets the sweetest sound out of Eddie as a reward.

His hands slip under Steve’s shirt and his lips move to Steve’s neck, he sucks right on his pulse point which makes Steve’s eyes roll back while he holds in a groan. He was embarrassed to be loud, but it was starting to feel too good to care. 

“What are we doing?” Eddie mumbles between kisses all over his neck and under his ear. 

Steve redirects his face to look at him, stealing a quick kiss that becomes two and then three and he has to pull back with a smile, “I want you.” 

“Yeah?” He smiles, taking a hand out from under Steve’s shirt to brush his hair back. 

Steve nods, “is there a bedroom here?” 

“There is,” he says, pulling Steve down into another kiss only for him to kiss eddies cheek and tug his head to the side so he can kiss his neck this time. He hums, tilting his head back as much as he comfortably can so he can get as many kisses as Steve wants to leave. 

His hands roam Steve’s back over his shirt, over his jeans and into his back pockets where he gives his ass a squeeze. His lips feel so good on Eddie’s neck, he closes his eyes and gets carried away in the feeling, rock hard under Steve as he grinds down against him. 

He lets out a sweet little moan of encouragement, “Steve…” 

“Yeah?” He breathes against his neck between kisses. 

“You feel so good, baby,” he praises and taps his ass a few times to signal he wants him to get up, “but I’m not giving it all to you on this couch, come on.” 

He groans but sits up, the two of them doing everything in their power not to stare at the others bulge in their jeans… but the moon shines in perfectly over the light blue fabric and makes Eddie’s mouth water. He takes his hand and all but drags him down the hall and into Rick's room. 

He pushes Steve down against the bed and drops to his knees on the floor between them, hands on Steve's thighs to steady himself. Then his hands go higher, towards his belt, all while he keeps his eyes on Steve’s. 

He nods, “it’s okay,” he whispers. “Do it.” 

Eddie’s quick to take his belt off and unzip his jeans, he pulls them down to his ankles and palms over his underwear, “I’ve never done this…” 

“Oh,” Steve’s honestly surprised. “It’s pretty self-explanatory… just imagine what you’d like done and do it I guess… oh shit you’ve never had one either?” 

He shakes his head, “no, but I get the gist…” 

His fingers play with the elastic hem of his boxers, he’s nervous but not enough to die a virgin. His eyes widen as he takes him out and sees just how much of Steve he had to work with. And Steve notices, he runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair and leans forward, “so pretty when you drool over me.” 

“Shut up,” Eddie can’t help but laugh, he wasn’t drooling… but he wipes his mouth anyway, stroking over Steve’s length gently. 

He bites his lip and rests back on his forearms, giving himself enough leverage to watch as Eddie leans in and drags his tongue from base to tip. Steve hisses as his tongue flicks over the head of his cock, and then Eddie places a kiss on the head, it's gentle and soft to make up for how he immediately taps his cock against his tongue. 

It's fucking sinful.

In one fell swoop, Eddie takes him into his mouth and attempts to go as far as he can, jerking off what he can't fit in his mouth, he starts to bob. Steve drops flat against the bed with his hands at his sides, gripping the sheets like his life depended on it… Eddie's hot mouth is too inviting, if he doesn’t hold the sheets he’s going to grip his hair and thrusts into his throat and he knew this wasn’t about him… Eddies exploring just as much as Steve is.

He pops off his cock with just a trail of spit connecting them, he works his hand over his length and takes one of his balls in his mouth. Spreading his legs a little bit more, he presses two fingers against the skin behind his balls, making him incredibly nervous he was going to touch his hole… but he doesn’t. He applies some pressure, playing with his prostate from the outside. 

It’s such a new feeling, Steve makes the most whorish moan as his back arches, “ed- Eddie, holy fuck,” he panics, reaching out for him, “I don't want to cum yet.” 

“Okay,” he smirks, standing up with the crack of his knees and a groan. “God, I feel 800,” he complains, reaching for his belt and working his way out of his jeans. 

Steve rips his shirt off and kneels on the edge of the bed, reaching out for Eddie as soon as his jeans are off. He takes his shirt by the hem and helps him out of it, pressing their naked chests together, he places a hand on Eddie’s cheek, “you’re so handsome.” 

“You really think so?” He asks, and Steve can tell it comes from a place of deep insecurity. 

He nods, running his fingers through eddies hair and holding the ends up with a smile, “I watched you grow all this, it took forever… the first time I thought you were really cute it was no longer than mine but super curly.”

“That was in freshman year,” Eddie’s shocked, “really?” 

Steve nods with a sly smirk, “oh yeah… mullet Eddie was hot too, but I think this is my favourite version of you— and not just cause of the hair, you’re really cool. Like the coolest and you’re nice, and Dustin loves you, and you know about all this, so everything about you is everything I’ve wanted.” 

“Don’t get sappy on me, Stevie, I still want to fuck you,” he teases. 

“O-okay,” he melts, the idea making his stomach flip and his cock twitch. 

Eddie smirks, “really, you want that too?” 

He nods slowly, “I mean, I’ve thought about it before— not you, I mean, sometimes, but just like the act of being fucked itself, I’ve thought about that.” 

It makes him laugh, “you’re really cute when you’re nervous… I didn’t think I could ever make king Steve nervous.” 

“Don’t call me that,” he begs. “Not when we’re going to do this…” 

“I’m going to have to work you open, you know that right?” Eddie assures him, “or do you want to do that part?” 

“You can,” Steve is quick with his reply. He really wants him to. “I uh, I kinda showered before I came for this exact reason…” 

Eddies practically growls with excitement, “oh, Stevie, you’re like a dream come true.” 

“Do you think there’s lube here?” He asks, voice timid and shy. 

“Definitely,” Eddie laughs, breaking away from Steve to look in the night table beside the bed, but it's too dark in the room to see anything. He searches for his pants, digging out his lighter he flicks it open, infighting the flame and lighting the way. 

Besides a pack of condoms and lube there’s a pack of a dozen tea light candles too… “these wouldn’t cause too much light right? No one will see these?” 

Steve looks around the room, “I don’t think anyone could see into this room anyway?” 

“Thats enough for me,” he shrugs it off and lights a few candles, handing them to Steve to place on the other night table and on the dresser across from the bed, it lights the room up quite nicely. 

If either of them dies at the end of the week, this is one hell of a way to go out. 

With lube in hand, they crawl back into bed together, Eddie straddles Steve’s thigh and wraps his arms around him and pressing their chests together. Steve smiles at him, brushing his hair back behind his ear. He runs his fingers through his hair, gripping it slightly as he pulls Eddie back in for another kiss. 

There’s a lingering saltiness that Steve recognizes as himself, he loops his tongue around eddies and sucks on it gently, making him buck his hips against Steve’s with a moan. Steves one hand trails down his back to hold his lower back and cradle his head as he flips them over to be on top. 

Eddie lays back breathless and surprised and incredibly turned on by how Steve was able to do that. He runs his hands over Steve’s thighs, admiring his beauty in the candlelight, “you good?” 

He nods, “are you sure you still want to do this?” Steve asks as he reaches for the bottle of lube

“More than you know,” he replied, pulling him in for another soft kiss. 

Eddie took the lube from Steve and popped the cap, running it across his fingers before reaching between his legs. He spreads his cheeks with one hand and circles a lubed-up finger around his rim. Steve tossed his head back at the feeling and gripped Eddie’s shoulders for support, leaning in more to press his forehead against Eddie’s and stretching his ass out.

Eddie pushed one finger in past the rim, making him cry out in pleasure with hot breath against Eddie’s face. He pumped in and out of him, over and over making Steve feel more euphoric than he has with anyone else. He added a second finger after a minute and a third, till finally, he pressed against his prostate, making his hips jerk and his breath hitch. He grips eddies hair tighter, moaning in his ear, it's so fucking hot Eddie could cum just listening.

He pulled out and wiped his fingers against the fitted sheet on the bed. Steve sighs and pulls away enough to grab the condom and rip it open, he moves back enough to roll it over Eddie’s leaking, glistening cock with a smile. He lubes him up, grips him at the base once more and leads him inside. He pushed in, inch by inch till he bottomed out, sitting lightly on Eddie’s hips. 

It’s so intense, Eddie’s mouth opens in a silent gasp and his eyes widen at the feeling. His grip tightens on Steve’s hips, helping him stay in place as he adjusts. Steve looked him in the eyes once more, the beautiful brown orbs that he was beginning to love so dearly, stared back at him softy. He tilted Eddie’s head up and leaned into another kiss before moving his hips slightly.

Eddie moaned against his lips, they weren’t really kissing anymore. The more he moved his hips, the more Eddie moaned causing Steve to press his open mouth against him as they panted together with the friction. 

Eddie finally pulled him close, gripping his back as he flipped them over, pushing Steve’s legs up to his chest and fucking into him deeply. Eddie fucked into him again and again, hitting all the right places as he did so. 

The two of them moaned together, chanting words of praise and appreciation for the moment. “My god,” Eddie moaned into his ear, “oh fuck, you feel so good Steve.”

Steve moans right back, holding him so tight so the moment never ends. Just then, Eddie slows his thrusts and leans in gently to kiss Steve on the forehead. He abandons his grip on Steve’s thighs, letting his legs fall to the mattress before Steve wraps them around his waist. 

He reaches forward for Eddie, gripping onto his back. “Please?” 

“Please what?” Eddie smirks, thoroughly enjoying the way Steve was completely wrecked for him. 

“I uh,” he swallows sharply and doesn’t know how to say it. “Can you change the angle a bit?” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course, baby,” he stops completely and reaches up for a pillow, slipping it under his hips quickly and thrusting in a few more times. “Like that?” 

Steve bites his lip and closes his eyes, nodding as he relaxes into the pillow, “mhm, fucking amazing.”

Eddie leans back down, hovering over him as he keeps thrusting. He kisses Steve’s cheek, his jaw and then down towards his neck again. Holding him close, he reaches between them to grip Steve’s weeping cock and jerk him off, matching the speed of his thrusts. 

Steve knows he’s close but all he can say is the word please, he grips Eddie’s back and trembles under him. His legs quake, and that iron-hot feeling in his gut spreads through his body as he releases into Eddie’s hand and all up his chest. Eddie’s hips sputter against him, thrusting in one last time with a guttural moan in Steve’s ear. 

The both of them are breathless, chests heaving in the wake of their orgasms. Limbs go limp, and Eddie gets heavier, but Steve likes the weight on top of him. He runs his fingers over eddies back gently as he starts to calm down, and leans his cheek against Eddie’s forehead. 

Content, not a single regret in him, this is all he wanted. 

“You okay?” Eddie whispers. 

He nods, “perfect.” 

He sits up slowly, pulling out which felt so weird and emotional which left him feeling empty and self-conscious. Even more so when Eddie gets out of the bed and runs off into the other room for a few minutes. He can hear the faucet running, he takes a few minutes and then returns with a facecloth in hand. 

With a shaking hand, he sits on the edge of the bed and makes careful eye contact with Steve. He sits up a bit, nodding cause he knows what he wants and so Eddie leans forward, wiping the cloth over his messy chest to clean him up. “There, all pretty again…” 

Steve takes a hold of Eddie's wrist before he can pull away and uses it to pull him back in for another kiss. Meeting him halfway, he cups Eddie’s face in his hand and holds him there. Breathing him in, he hopes every feeling he had transferred over to Eddie without words because he wasn’t even sure he could find the right ones for these feelings. 

He rests his forehead against Eddie’s as the kiss ends, coming up for air, they don’t move. They don’t talk. They just stay like that. 

Eddie pulls back first and kisses Steve on the forehead, “thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me,” Steve doesn’t want to think about it… why they did do it. “Do you still want me to stay while you sleep?” 

He nods, “if you want to?” 

“Yeah, come here,” he pulls back and the two of them hurry to get under the comforter and cuddled up. 

Steve rests his head on Eddie’s chest, lightly drawing his finger over his tattoo in the near darkness. He wants to talk, he wants to ask Eddie a million and one questions but he doesn’t know how to… and Eddie’s in the same predicament. He stays quiet so he doesn’t say anything stupid. 

But it’s not stupid… it’s love. 

Eddie falls asleep eventually, Steve watches his breathing change and feels his hand still on his back before it slides off with his weightless slumber. He doesn’t snore, not necessarily, but he has this cute little whistle sound he makes when he breathes. Steve smiles as he listens, he’s somehow the happiest he’s ever been when he knows it can’t last long. 

—

He slips out of bed just before the sun starts to rise, he carefully gets dressed and kisses Eddie on the forehead before he sneaks out the back door. His sneakers slip on the dewy grass, it’s absolutely fucking freezing compared to being under the covers with Eddie, he shivers his whole ride back to the Wheelers. 

He gets back into Nancy’s house through her window, he peaks his head out her door and listens for her Fathers snoring… and it’s there. He quietly tiptoes past Holly’s door and takes the stairs just as cautiously. They creak a bit, but nothing too bad. He slips past the kitchen and down the basement stairs to see everyone asleep and Max at the workbench, still awake and writing. 

Well, he thought everyone was asleep… Robin grabs him by the scruff of his neck and hauls him into the laundry room, away from the sleeping kids, “where were you?” 

“None—

“Is that a hickey?” She points at his neck, “you left in the middle of all this shit to get laid? Are you fucking kidding me, Steve? Max is in real danger, you know that right?” 

He’s not sure why he starts to cry but tears well behind his eyes as he nods, “yeah, no, I know… but it’s not what you think… or who you think.” 

“What?” Her demeanour changes when she realizes he’s upset. 

“I uh, I went to see Eddie and let him sleep a few hours without having to be on guard,” he admits and then swallows sharply. “And you remember what we talked about? About different sexualities and shit?” 

“Steve,” she softens, “oh my god?” 

“We can’t let this ruin his life, I can’t lose him already,” Steve cries, the feelings he’s been holding onto for the last few hours just tumbling out of him. 

Robin pulls him into a hug, rubbing his back, “we won’t let that happen.” 

He cries it out with her in the laundry room, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.” 

“cause you found yourself,” she whispers, proud as ever. “Hi Steve, I’m Robin, it’s nice to meet you.” 

He laughs, wiping his tears off his cheeks and gives her a small smile, “hi, Robin… thank you.” 

She pats his arm, smiling back, “always, buddy.” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @wroteclassicaly @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @eddiemunson-rp 

Steddie

@nosaladallowed-ao3 @maya-custodios-dionach @wifeyreid @girl-with-an-orange-cat

[detective-inspector-her]

Six Hours Back On The Job Incorrect Quotes

Valkyrie: Gregory likes to win. When he was 8, a little Club Scout friend of his bragged they could sell the most cookies. Valkyrie: Damned if Gregory didn't walk the neighbourhood till he got blisters on his feet, and won by 10 boxes. Valkyrie: The best part is, that Gregory wasn't even a Club Scout.

Valkyrie: And what did we learn, Gregory? Gregory: Tackling someone isn’t the correct response to being asked a simple question.

Valkyrie: I am a responsible adult! Gregory: raises brow Valkyrie: I am an adult.

Valkyrie, skipping rocks on a lake with Gregory: It’s such a beautiful evening. Gregory: Yeah, it is. Gregory: whispering Take that you fucking lake.

Gregory: I wanna die. Valkyrie: We all do, you aren't special!

Valkyrie: Could you maybe just like… stab me… right in the gut. Just REALLY twist it in there. ‘Cause that honestly seems less painful than this conversation.

Valkyrie: I'm a firm believer in "if you're going to fail, you might as well fail spectacularly."

Valkyrie: When I was your age- Gregory, mocking Valkyrie: When I was your height. Valkyrie: Valkyrie: Listen here you little shit-

Gregory: Can you recommend a book that'll make me cry? Valkyrie: General Mathematics 8th Grade Edition.

Valkyrie: Why don't humans have a specific noise that means "there are bees here, let's leave immediately." Why are elephants more advanced than us. Gregory: We do have a specific noise for it. It sounds like this: Gregory: "There are bees here, let's leave immediately."

Valkyrie: Am I a good person? No. But do I try to be better every single day? Also no.

Freddy, when Valkyrie walks in: Oh, hey, I'm just making pizza. Freddy: accidentally smacks Gregory in the face with the baking sheet

Gregory: Are you a cuddler? Freddy: I'm a machine of death and destruction. Gregory: Freddy: …Yeah, I'm a cuddler.

Freddy: If you water water, it grows. Gregory: …What. Valkyrie: He's got a point.

Valkyrie: I got an idea! Freddy: Does it involve breaking the law? Valkyrie: By now don’t you think that’s a given? Freddy: I was just trying to be optimistic. Valkyrie: Don’t bother.

Valkyrie: Life is like Gregory. It's short.

Freddy: Didn't you die?! Valkyrie: That was weeks ago, dude. Things change.

Gregory: Hey, can I get a sip of that water? Valkyrie: It’s not water. Gregory: Vodka! I like your sty- Valkyrie: It’s vinegar. Gregory: …What? Valkyrie: It's vinegar, PUSSY.

Gregory and Valkyrie are in a car teetering on the edge of a cliff Gregory: oh my god, Valkyrie, backwards! Valkyrie: Really, Gregory? I thought I might go forwards into the river, I thought that would be a fun thing to do.

Gregory: Valkyrie is restricted to decaf for the rest of this adventure.

Valkyrie: I'm going to take a shower, I'll be right back. Gregory: Why are you telling me this, I don't care. Gregory, right after Valkyrie leaves the room: I miss her already.

Gregory: Valkyrie just said "I have an appetite for destruction" and then she reached down and untied my shoe.

Valkyrie: Freddy, you need to calm down. Freddy, slamming his fists on the table: BUT HOW CAN IT BE "BIRTHDAY CAKE" FLAVOR IF A BIRTHDAY CAKE CAN BE ANY FLAVOR?!

Gregory: Oh, so when crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, its “intelligent” and “really cool”. Gregory: But when I do it, I’m “petty” and “need to let it go”.

[thirstyandbeautiful]

Please write that smut scene about jack

SIKEEEEE- YOU ASK WE DELIVER

It is the perfect Friday night. Making dinner with your best friend, the music playing through the speakers and the view out the window was mesmerizing. Your gaze lifted from your hands, momentarily looking over at the beautiful scenery before looking back down at the cutting board and the chopped red pepper. Sighing, you grabbed a piece and threw it in your mouth while moving over to the stove to lower the temperature at which the pasta was boiling at 

‘’Saw that’’ your best friend jokingly smacked your butt, referring to you stealing a ‘’precious piece of her precious dinner’’ as she liked to call the chicken alfredo you were currently making

‘’Oh shut up, you know I can’t not-’’ 

‘’JUST PASS IT OVER ALREADY, DUDE’’ 

The loud noise made you and your best friend jump from your spots in the kitchen and you placed a heart over your rapidly beating heart

‘’Shut up, jack, you dickhead’’ 

He didn’t bother apologizing instead he flipped his sister over and turned back to the tv. Rolling your eyes you turned back to the stove and started stirring the pasta. 

It was a pleasant feeling. One that your busy schedule didn’t allow you quite often. You didn’t think that your junior year in college would be so swarming with assignments and term papers and presentations but yet it all came to surprise you how hectic your third year was. Which left little to no time to see your friends, let alone your best friend even if you were roommates, sharing the same dorm. 

And when she asked you if you’d like to join her, her boyfriend, and Jack at their lake house, you didn’t hesitate one second. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Jack announced that he was going upstairs for a quick shower

‘’Yeah but don’t be late, kid, dinner’s almost done’’ 

You turned to him, whipping your hands at the tea towel, smirking. It was easy to fall into a teasing banter with Jack. Each time you saw each other it always went like this. Teasing each other was what you knew best. 

‘’Okay granny’’ laughing he gave you the middle finger and you whipped him with the tea towel as his body moved to try and dodge you 

‘’You two are such kids, I swear’’ it was comical really ‘’the only kid in this house is your brother’’ you pointed a finger at your best friend ‘’and you know that’’

You grabbed the plates and placed them on the table, bumping your hip with your best friend’s as you passed her. It reminded you of when you were kids and used to play house with her when she came over after school or when you had your pajama sleepovers on the weekends. 

‘’Hey, ladies’’ your best friend’s boyfriend Mark came into the kitchen and sat on one of the stools. You loved their relationship. Even though both of them were busy they always made time for one another. 

‘’Hey, babe’’ she said as she leaned down to give him a kiss ‘’dinner’s almost ready’’ she added ‘’why don’t you go and grab a bottle of wine from the wine stellar?’’ groaning, he got up and walked away and down the steps, to what you could describe an impressive room with racks all which were stacked with bottles of wine. 

‘’Wow it’s really pissing it down outside, isn’t it?’’ 

Turning your head towards the window, you noticed that it was raining heavier than it was a few minutes ago when you last checked. The lake was barely showing now and there were small puddles of water formed all around the beautiful backyard 

‘’Yeah, it’s getting quite bad’’ You frowned 

‘’maybe we should have some candles ready, just in case’’ 

She looked at you and shrugged ‘’yeah I think we have some at the room down the hall, I’ll look after we’re done with-’’ 

A loud thunder cut her off mid-sentence, along with the power going out. She yelped and threw herself at you, hugging you tightly 

 ‘’Boo-fucking-hoo’’ You smacked her head and laughed ‘’You crybaby it’s just a thunderstorm’’ even though you knew that she was scared of thunderstorms, ever since she was a kid

‘’I’m going to murder you in your sleep’’ 

‘’I’d like to see you try’’ 

Great. Now you had to go search for any source of light in a dark house about which you were partly scared of because your best friend was too scared to leave the kitchen. The dark always made you uncomfortable, especially in a place you didn’t know well. Have you been to your best friend’s lake house plenty of times? Yes, but you still couldn’t perfectly navigate your way around. 

‘’Alright, I’m gonna go search for some flashlights upstairs’’ you walked off the open plan kitchen and towards the stairs, careful not to misstep and fall on your face

‘’Check on my brother as well, the kid is probably dying on his own up there’’ You snorted but mumbled a quick yes, not sure if your best friend heard you but it’s whatever, you just needed to find a source of light. 

You heard a door open upstairs and flinched but then quickly remembered that It was probably Jack getting out of the bathroom. Quickly turning around to check the bathroom door you saw it open but Jack wasn’t there. Okay, weird. 

But your soul left your body when a pair of hands grabbed your waist and squeezed 

‘’ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMN MIND, JACK?’’ 

You were just scared shitless and he was losing it. Like, absolutely crying with laughter, clutching his stomach, and the towel that almost dropped from his body from laughing so hard 

‘’You think it’s funny?’’ your hands slapped his chest but he didn’t even budge ‘’Stop laughing, this was not funny’’ you whined and leaned back against the wall for a moment to try and catch your breath

‘’Everyone okay up there?’’ mark shouted from downstairs 

‘’Yeah it’s just Jack being a 5-year-old’’ you threw a look his way, even though he couldn’t clearly see you ‘’again’’ 

You could barely make out his almost naked body but from what you could make out, it made your mouth dry. He was ripped. Not that you were expecting anything less from the number of hours he was exercising. But still, you were impressed. Small droplets of water were falling down his chest and your eyes watched as they raced all the way down to the hem of the towel. You unintentionally bit your lower lip when your gaze fell upon his adonis belt. What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be looking at your best friend’s little brother this way, nor thinking about the way that he could probably, so easily, pin you against the wall and have his way with you right here in the hallway, holding you up with his strong arms- 

Stop it

You shook your head, attempting to clear out the… thoughts. 

‘’Jesus, you’re such a kid, Jack’’ you tried walking away but a hand on your wrist stopped you 

‘’I’m not a kid’’ 

‘’yes, you are a kid’’ No he’s not, look at his body. That’s not how a kid looks like 

‘’Am not’’ 

‘’You are’’ you pushed 

But your breath got caught in your throat when he pinned you against the wall, your arms falling at your sides. 

‘’I’m not a fucking kid’’ His hand came up and tugged at your loose ponytail, making your head tip back. You were breathing hard. Your chest rapidly rising and falling against his. God, when did he get so close, you could feel your shirt getting wet. And your panties too. 

A gasp left your throat when his lips faintly kissed your neck, his nose trailing the path that his lips kissed. You shivered but when you came back to your senses you cleared your throat and lifted your head from the wall

‘’Jack, w-what are you d-doing?’’ he didn’t stop his assault on your neck. Instead, he wrapped his hand around your throat and you whimpered when you felt the pressure he applied to the sides of it

‘’What I have wanted to do for so long’’ 

His touch felt wrong, but yet so right. Your core was pulsing, Hips bucking to try and get any kind of friction but his strong hand pushed your hips back and pinned you against the wall completely. Fuck. 

‘’Will you let me, doll?’’ he asked as his hand had already started moving its way towards your cotton shorts ‘’W-What?’’ 

‘’Will you let me eat this pussy like I’ve wanted to do for so long?’’ 

Your knees nearly bucked at his words. Never in a million years have you thought that he’d have such a dirty mouth. And to be honest, it turned you on. Your nipples pebbled against the tight, white tank top you were wearing

‘’I’ve dreamt about putting my lips on you for so long, baby’’ 

His fingers lowered your top, enough for him to get access to your chest. Lips wrapping around your hard nipple almost immediately. 

You were totally consumed by him. Both his hands working you, left hand on your throat while his right trailed down your shorts cupping your clothed core, his lips wrapped around your nipple. This was so wrong, but it feels so right, the devil on your shoulder kept telling you. You didn’t even remember what you initially came upstairs for 

‘’Yes, Jack, just please’’ Finally your hands came up from where they felt like they were frozen on your sides and grabbed the back of his neck forcing him down as you crashed your lips together. 

As cliche as that sounds, sparks were flying when you kissed and his moan vibrated through your whole body. You shakily exhaled when he sunk to his knees and you quickly looked down to make sure your best friend or Mark was out of sight and you breathed in relief when you didn’t see or hear them. 

You were about to have your best friend’s little brother go down on you. At their lake house. While the electricity has gone off, and you were supposed to be searching for something, damn it. 

Jack kissed your inner thigh as his fingers wrapped around the hem of your shorts and pulled them down your legs. His hot breath fanning against your pubic bone made you shiver and your inner walls clenched around nothing

‘’No panties?’’ you had never thanked yourself quicker for skipping underwear more than you had at that moment. 

‘’You’re just making it easier for me, baby girl’’ 

He had the audacity to chuckle while you were blushing like crazy. When you arrived at the lake house a few hours prior, you would have never thought that Jack would be down on his knees for you with his head between your legs. But it all became real when he grabbed your leg and put it over his shoulder, opening you up to him more. 

‘’Hmm, so fucking pretty’’ The tip of his tongue teasingly licked the crease of your folds. Your fingers tangled in his still-wet hair. 

‘’Get on with it, Jack, we don’t have all the time in the world’’ you whispered-yelled at him. And it was true. The lights could come back on at any moment or even worse your best friend could walk by and catch you. You didn’t even want to think about that. And stopping was no option right now because you were too far gone to do that and you needed to cum. Quick. 

‘’You look pretty eager for someone that hesitated a few minutes ago’’ his voice had gotten huskier since the last time he opened his pretty mouth and complemented how pretty your pussy looks. His thick aussie accent dripping with lust and there was nothing you wanted in that moment more than him to get to work

‘’Just, ugh, fuck, shut up’’ 

He chuckled and his tongue darted out, licking a stripe up your wet folds. Fuck, it was almost like his tongue was made for you and it that moment you stopped breathing because it felt so damn good. It was embarassing how you were almost at the edge of cumming and the man, well yes a man because that’s not a kid between your legs, in front of you had barely touched you 

‘’Not so mouthy now, are we, hmm?’’ he mumbled against your lower lips. You couldn’t answer. All you could do was throw your head back and bite the back of your hand because his tongue was deliciously licking just the right spot on your engorged clit. It felt like you had a second heartbeat all the way down to your core. 

Your hips bucked and started rubbing against his face, practically riding it. You wanted him to do unholy things to you and the urge to tell him was strong, the words sitting at the tip of your tongue. But right now was not the time, you reminded yourself.

‘’Fuck, Jack, so good!’’ you whined and squeezed your eyes shut trying to hold off your orgasm for as long as you could. Hell, you never wanted him to leave the space between your thighs. 

‘’Yeah, you like that, darlin’ ?’’ his fingers tickled up the back of your thighs, his huge hands sinking into the back of your ass squeezing at the same time he’s sucking your clit into his mouth ‘’you like my tongue on your pretty pussy?’’ 

You’re about to open your mouth to tell him to hurry up when his tongue run between your folds, circling your clit slowly. A desperate moans echoes in the small hallway. You didn’t even realize the noise came from you until you can feel his shoulders move because the jackass is laughing. 

‘’Am I still the kid you’re making me out to be, doll?’’ 

You’re a wreck. A writhing, moaning, shaking wreck. You didn’t even need to look at his face to realize how smug he’s being about it right now, not that you could anyway - it’s buried deep between your thighs. 

You want to say something smart, sass him in some way. Not give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s turned you into a whimpering mess in just a matter of a few minutes but before you get to do that one of his hands moves from your asscheek, and when you look down a pair of brown eyes are staring back at you. They stay burning into you, watching you closely as two of his long fingers slide inside you, finding your g-spot in in a second. Something that none of your exes ever managed to master no matter how long they’ve tried. 

And that’s it for you. 

His pace increases as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, perfectly coordinated with his tongue as if he’s done that a million times and if he wasn’t holding up your entire body with his mouth, you’d have toppled over. 

The feeling keeps building, as you could feel yourself drip down your thighs hands tugging harder at his hair as you’re letting out gasps of air. The heel of your foot digging harder into the muscles of his back as you’re desperately tried moving your hips to ride his fingers

‘’Jake..’’ you whimper. 

You’re wound up so impossibly tight you couldn’t breathe. ‘’Jake, I’m going to co-’’ 

You didn’t even manage to get the rest of the words out as every part of you spasms and you have to cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from screaming out. Everything is tingling and throbbing as you tighten around him, pleasure flooding your entire body. 

Removing his fingers and mouth, he leans back so he can look at you properly, wearing the smuggest expression you’ve probably ever seen as he sucks his fingers into his mouth not once breaking eye contact. 

What the fuck just happened? 

[rindecisions]

From Hell and Back Chapter 5 | dormiendum

Explicit | 28k/160k | Demon Eddie

Find the rest and more here

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Steve sat in the back of the shower, just letting the water flow over his face and body. That demon was driving him insane in every sense of the word. He’d never had to work this hard to get laid before. Why did he want it to be Eddie so badly, anyway? His mind wandered onto the night they had sex. Right… He groaned and hit the back of his head on the tiled wall. He needed to talk to Robin. He heaved himself to his feet in order to finish his shower and called it an early night.

Not that sleep came easy. He tossed, turned, whined, and groaned because he couldn’t focus on anything except the freeloading demon in his living room. He covered his face with a pillow and shouted into it in frustration.

Should I just give in already? The thought of Eddie’s smug expression quickly made him change his mind. No, he wanted Eddie to come to him. He wanted Eddie to beg and plead like he did in the beginning. If he hadn’t stubbornly pushed Eddie away, would they even be locked in this battle? Every time he considered just being forward, the image of Eddie’s smug face made him take it back immediately.

Eventually, he managed to relax and started getting tired. He let his mind go where it wanted to and, of course, it chose to relive fucking Eddie stupid, watching him masturbate, and the feeling of Eddie’s intense eyes piercing into him as he pleasured himself. The hardest part was ignoring the erection growing in his briefs.

That train of thought didn’t last too long before his mind wandered back to when Eddie was alive. A sharp electricity coursed over him when he recalled Eddie pinning him to the wall, threatening him with a broken bottle. He only now recognized the feeling he got that night. There really is something wrong with me, isn’t there? He let out a sigh and rolled onto his side.

Steve closed his eyes and reluctantly let the scene play in his mind. This time, they were alone in the boathouse. Eddie held the bottle to his throat with a pissed-off expression as they scanned each other’s faces. He shoved Steve harder against the wall by the collar of his jacket, making his heart thump in his chest. Steve gasped as the sharp edge of the glass was pressed to the underside of his chin.

By the stinging pain, he was certain it was drawing blood. He swallowed nervously, his neck flexing and causing the glass to dig slightly deeper, making him wince. Slowly, Eddie started to drag the glass shard up his chin. Steve tensed and hissed at the slicing pain.

His lack of desire to fight back made him uneasy, but the fact that he was enjoying the abuse straight up concerned him. When Eddie flicked the bottle off his chin, it got a squeak from Steve, both at the sudden movement and the corresponding pain.

A malicious smile crept over Eddie’s face that sent a chill down Steve’s spine. He winced and groaned as Eddie grabbed the hair on the back of his head in a tight fist, forcing his head back and exposing the fresh, bleeding cut. Eddie tossed the bottle aside, letting it shatter wherever it landed. The loud, piercing sound of the crashing glass made Steve dramatically flinch and close his eyes.

When he felt Eddie’s tongue on his neck, slowly licking up the sliced skin, Steve shuddered and opened his eyes to find himself staring up at the night sky. They were rocking rhythmically in the bottom of a boat on Lover’s Lake. How he knew that, he wasn’t sure, but he did.

The sounds that came from Steve’s throat were not those of pain, and he felt a deep shame for it. He clenched his face and flexed his neck at the faint sting from Eddie licking the wound. Once Eddie reached the end of his chin and the last of the cut, he puppeteered Steve’s head so they were eye to eye, revealing he was in his demon form. Steve’s heart skipped. He could see the dark red streak of his blood on Eddie’s chin, and watched in awe as the slender, inhuman tongue licked it off.

An indescribable feeling flooded him when he met Eddie’s glowing eyes. The way they blazed felt like a visual representation of whatever was building in his chest. Eddie tightened his grip on Steve’s hair, causing a small flinch. He stared intently as he placed a claw on the tip of Steve’s chin and slowly, but firmly, dragged it down the cut.

Steve whimpered at the sharp sting. Even still, he didn’t have the urge to fight it. He grasped for the chains on Eddie’s waist and tugged, his body involuntarily tensing with the steady pain. He heaved a sigh of relief when Eddie’s claw reached the end of the cut. The claw continued down his neck and chest until it hooked on the collar of his yellow sweater.

A sinister smile crept across Eddie's lips as he curled the claw and pulled, piercing it through the thick fabric. His smile intensified before he whipped his hand down, ripping the front of the sweater in half. Eddie's teeth flashed in a grin and Steve gasped at the feeling of a hand running up his now bare chest.

Relief hit him like a wave when their mouths finally locked together, strangely enhanced by the metallic flavor of his own blood on Eddie’s lips. The building desire in his chest exploded when Eddie shoved his tongue deep into his mouth. Steve pushed his elbows into the bottom of the boat, violently rocking it as he desperately pushed into the kiss. Fuck he’d missed Eddie’s mouth.

He grunted into it when he felt a hand slide onto his back and the grip in his hair loosen. A crash of lightning startled Steve out of the kiss. He flinched when he found himself staring up at Eddie’s human face as it was temporarily lit up with red light. He glanced around and saw they were in the Upside Down, in the dried basin of Lover’s Lake.

His vision shifted back to Eddie’s stunning doe eyes. The hand that had been gripping his hair was now gently cupping the back of his head. Meeting the tender stare of this version of Eddie filled him with an entirely new emotion. It was just as strong and magnetic as the desire he’d felt with his demon form, but this one almost hurt.

The hand on his back gently guided him to the cold ground and moved to caress his filthy, slimy chest. They stared at each other in silence as the red lightning flashed around them. A deep heaviness pulled at Steve’s chest until they mutually dove for each other.

Steve shoved his hands into Eddie’s messy, damp hair and put everything he had into kissing him. This kiss was more satisfying than igniting. The denseness in his chest only tightened, making him desperate for more.

Both of Eddie’s hands slid down his chest, tweaking his nipples in the process and making Steve gasp softly into their kiss. Eddie moved a hand around Steve’s waist and pushed between his shoulder blades, pressing their chests together. Steve gasped and broke the kiss when he was pulled up to straddle Eddie's lap. Seeing a vine-covered rock face behind Eddie was all he needed to know exactly where they were: Skull Rock in the Upside Down.

Eddie's hands slid down his sides until he felt them go over cloth. He looked down to see the blood-soaked, improvised bandages that Nancy had—

An intense earthquake made Steve fling his arms around Eddie's neck for support, placing their faces less than an inch apart. He stared in awe as the demon flashed like an afterimage over the almost sorrowful expression underneath. When the earthquake stopped, the demon's face disappeared as well, and he was left staring at the gentle longing expression of the Eddie he once knew.

The arms that were delicately holding him carefully wrapped around his bandaged waist, pressing their bodies flush. Steve didn’t hesitate taking his turn at initiating their next kiss. The soft moan of approval he received was beautiful, and the tightened grip on his wounded waist was painful, but welcome.

Without thinking, Steve began moving his hips, dragging his ass over Eddie's lap. A soft sigh flowed from Eddie's lips and he felt the hands around his waist clench painfully.

Steve grunted with their mouths still locked when he felt Eddie grip onto the bandages and flip them around, pinning his back to the rock face. The tongue in his mouth transformed into his demonic one, making Steve open his eyes and break out in goosebumps as he stared into Eddie’s blazing eyes.

He shuddered when he felt his clawed hands creep under his… sweater? Steve glanced around to see that they were still at Skull Rock, but it was the one in the real Hawkins, with no vines in sight. His attention was immediately brought back to Eddie once he felt a palm press against his groin and rub his erection through the loose cloth of his sweatpants. The hands he had in the long wavy hair gripped tightly, making Eddie softly groan with pleasure. A shiver crawled down Steve’s spine at the erotic sound and the stunning masochistic joy that lit up Eddie’s inhuman face.

He swallowed and pulled Eddie down, shoving their mouths back together. The hand on his groin tightened and wrapped around his dick, the claws piercing through the cloth in order to completely encompass the shaft. Steve sighed and panted, keeping his grip on Eddie tight.

The fabric rubbing on his dick was uncomfortable, but the fact that it was stimulation was all that he cared about. He tipped his head back and out of the kiss, flinching when he felt Eddie’s tongue slither over the cut on his chin. Eddie continued his path until their lips were locked once more.

Steve, more than eagerly, threw himself into the kiss, receiving a faint growl from the demon. While he was disappointed that Eddie removed his hand from his dick, he didn’t want to break their kiss for anything. He violently shivered as all ten claws firmly dragged up his back before roughly grabbing onto his shoulder blades.

The blunt tips digging into his skin hurt, but he wanted them deeper. He groaned as the claws did just that, inadvertently pressing their chests flush. He gasped when Eddie slowly stood, taking him along. Before he could get his feet planted, he was forcibly shoved against the trunk of a tree.

The demon placed a firm hand on his chest and took a step back. The infernal being looked out of place in a sunny forest, but the sultry glare that met Steve’s eyes made him unable to care about anything except the burning desire to throw himself at Eddie. Of course, the immovable hand on his chest made acting on that urge difficult.

He tensed and his heart raced when Eddie took a small step forward. The next step put them close enough that Steve could feel the heat radiating off of Eddie’s ashen body, and he shuddered at the difference in their heights. He didn’t know why, but Eddie’s height did something to him. It filled him with a strong desire to do whatever was asked of him.

Steve gasped and quivered as Eddie delicately crept a dull claw along his jawline. At Eddie’s guidance, he looked up to meet his seductive, blazing eyes and soft, knowing smile. Every part of Steve was silently begging to be touched intimately. He needed Eddie carnally and felt like he would lose his mind if it was denied.

He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply as the demon cupped his cheek in his large hand. There was no preventing himself from leaning his weight into the warm palm. He relaxed against it and was startled when he felt Eddie’s supple lips on his own. Without a thought, Steve lunged himself forward, shoving his tongue into Eddie’s mouth and clinging to his neck as if his sanity depended on it.

Eddie’s hollow laugh echoed around them, and Steve shuddered at feeling the claws slowly drag down his back. It was mildly painful and strangely arousing, urging him to put more force into the kiss, only increasing the strength behind the claws.

By the time the claws reached the hem of his sweatpants, Steve was nearly shouting in both pain and pleasure. He had to fight desperately to stay in the kiss and flinched when he felt Eddie’s slender fingers slide under his sweatpants to delicately graze the top of his ass. When he felt a teasing claw drag over the cleavage of his ass, he gasped and pulled back, staring up at Eddie’s glowing, hungry eyes.

A smile crept onto Eddie’s face as he lunged forward, locking their mouths together and crashing Steve against the tree. Eddie’s hands slid over his ass cheeks, getting a handful of each one. Steve shuddered at his force, both in fear and anticipation. He knew the hands on his ass might as well have been a threat, and sighed with relief when the touch became gentler and the tongue in his mouth reverted to a human’s.

Once he realized he was in the arms of the human version of Eddie, his body automatically relaxed. The hands on his ass were almost massaging, and Steve briefly tightened his grip around Eddie’s neck before leaning back and staring into his human eyes.

The warm smile that overtook Eddie’s face distracted him from the fact that they were back in the Upside Down. Even though he was basically the same size as Steve, in comparison to his demon form, Eddie felt small in his arms.

A wary desire loomed on Eddie’s face as he brought a hand to Steve’s cheek, guiding him into a gentle kiss. The hand on his ass slid closer to his crack, teasing the crest of it as if silently asking for permission. Steve clenched his eyes, uncertain if he should give him that permission. His first instinct was to fight it, but his desire for any form of sexual attention was much stronger. When the hand on his face slid to the back of his neck, Steve caved, pressing his tongue into Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie shivered at Steve’s acceptance and held him tighter. Fear welled up in Steve as the hand on his ass gripped a little tighter, pressing their groins together. Eddie’s passion increased, holding him tightly as he slid a few fingers between the cleft of Steve’s ass.

The anxiety got the better of him and he pushed Eddie away, finding himself standing in the middle of the Upside Down version of the Wheeler’s living room. He turned his attention back to Eddie, who was looking at him with deep concern.

The softness on Eddie’s face made Steve feel a little bad for pushing him away. He sighed and brushed his hair back with his fingers, averting his eyes from the worried gaze. Eddie walked up to him and grabbed his hand, coaxing Steve to make eye contact with him.

A reassuring and comforting smile took over Eddie’s face as he slowly walked backward, taking Steve with him. When Eddie’s back hit a window, he slid an arm under the denim vest and around Steve’s bandaged waist, holding him close. Being pressed against him made Steve’s heart rate pick up again.

Steve gasped when Eddie quickly wrapped them in the yellow gingham curtain, closing out everything but them. He smiled at something so stupid actually making him feel a little more comfortable. They stared at each other, rapidly scanning every detail of the other’s face. As his eyes landed on Eddie’s lips, Steve leaned forward, sighing at the plush, tender feeling of their lips molding to the other’s. He tentatively pressed his tongue into Eddie’s mouth. He felt hands slide onto his back and hold him securely.

The fear and anxiety from before crept back up as a hand inched its way below his waistband. The one cradling his back was careful not to touch his wounds, resting directly above the bandages. He trembled and shuddered when he felt Eddie’s fingers return to the crack of his ass. Even though he was terrified, he wanted Eddie to continue.

He shoved his hands under Eddie’s leather jacket and gripped the back of his Hellfire shirt, putting more force into the kiss. He gasped when he felt Eddie push his fingers between his ass cheeks and hold him a little tighter. Steve trembled violently, bracing himself for what he expected to come next.

When Eddie pulled out of the kiss and nudged their foreheads together, Steve unclenched his face and looked at him with wide, terrified eyes. A soft smile spread across Eddie’s lips before they inaudibly formed the word ‘relax’ as the hand on his back gently caressed him. Steve took a deep breath and did just that. He pressed into another mutually passionate kiss. The hand on his back gently gripped him as the fingers between his cheeks traversed a little deeper. He pulled at Eddie’s shirt in anticipation.

A panic fell over him as the shirt in his hands disappeared. He grasped wildly, tangling his fingers in thin chains. He was borderline hyperventilating when he pulled back and saw the demon towering over him. The look in Eddie’s eyes calmed him, not with comfort, but with lust. The demon’s eyes were those of a predator sizing up its prey.

Steve hitched a gasp when he was quickly spun and pushed forward. He braced himself on the table in front of him, finding himself staring at the interior wall of Max’s kitchen. His hands slipped on something with a tearing sound. He looked down to see he was leaning on a phone book, ripping the page that had the ‘War Zone’ ad in half.

He unintentionally crushed the paper in his hand when Eddie grabbed his hip and ground against his ass. Eddie pulled at the knot of the bandage until it unraveled, loosening it enough for a hand to slide under the cloth and up over his chest, pulling him back. He gasped when his back bumped into Eddie’s chest.

Steve gripped the arm on his chest and tensed when Eddie ran a claw over the front of his sweats. A firm palm pressed on it, forcing his ass flush to Eddie’s pelvis. Eddie’s slender tongue licked the ridge of his ear, making him shiver. He rested his head back on Eddie’s collar, enjoying the feeling of the hand massaging his filthy chest, further loosening the bandage.

Steve sighed and bit his lip as Eddie rolled his hips, grinding against him. Both hands slid to the now exposed wounds on his waist and firmly gripped. Steve shouted in pain, not questioning why it also clouded his mind with lust.

He was spun again and braced himself on Eddie’s chained chest. He swallowed and scanned up the inhuman, rune covered body until his eyes landed on the demon’s face. A sadistic smile crept onto Eddie’s lips as he dragged his claws over the extreme grooves of his wounds. Steve groaned loudly and twisted his hands in the chains on Eddie’s chest.

Steve never considered pain a pleasurable feeling, but in that moment, they might as well have been interchangeable. He trembled and whimpered when Eddie stopped. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see Eddie examining the blood on his claws.

The ember eyes shifted to Steve’s, making him freeze. The grin on Eddie’s face intensified as, one by one, he sucked the blood off of every finger. Steve hated how much he loved the sight and how badly he wanted those lips back on his. He jumped when he saw the forked tongue lick what remained of the blood from the lips he craved.

He couldn’t resist Eddie’s magnetism and pulled on the chains in his hands, urging him into a kiss. Eddie growled as he leaned into it, running his hands over the wounds. Steve knew for a fact that Eddie had just smeared blood all over his back as he was held tightly in his arms.

Before Steve knew it, Eddie had lifted him by his waist and set him on the table, putting him at about eye level. The demon’s sultry stare broke Steve out in goosebumps and he gasped when their mouths were pressed back together. Steve grabbed the horns on the back of Eddie’s head, holding him in place. Eddie slammed his hands on the table behind Steve and leaned forward, pushing Steve back until the only thing keeping him from falling onto the table was his grip on the horns.

Steve trembled as he felt Eddie’s tongue slither around his, constricting it. He gripped the horns tighter, pressing their bodies as close as he could manage and shuddering when Eddie rubbed their groins together. Feeling Eddie grab his ass made Steve gasp into the kiss. He tensed further when Eddie gripped the waistband of his pants with both hands and whipped them down. When the table blocked Eddie from pulling them down any further, he pushed firmly on Steve’s chest. A loud gasp escaped Steve as he let go of Eddie’s horns and fell back.

Eddie moved too quickly for Steve to comprehend what was happening and before he knew it, he was pinned to the spongey surface of a mattress with a tongue being shoved into his mouth. As soon as Steve realized it was the human version of Eddie, a sense of relief fell over him and he tossed his arms around his neck, putting more passion into their kiss.

Steve was pushed away by a hand on his chest. Reluctantly, Steve released his grip around Eddie’s neck and gazed up at his face. The warm glow from the gate on the ceiling framed Eddie beautifully and told him they were in Eddie’s trailer in the Upside Down.

Eddie looked truly gorgeous. Steve smiled softly at him and caressed his cheek. His smile intensified when Eddie closed his eyes and nuzzled into his hand. When Eddie leaned down into a kiss, Steve eagerly pushed into it and whimpered at how brief it was.

Eddie redirected to kissing over his cheek and down his neck. Steve panted and wove his fingers into Eddie’s hair. Slowly, Eddie kissed across his collar and over his filthy chest, nudging the denim vest open a bit wider with his nose. Steve watched as Eddie bit part of the loose bandage around his waist and leaned back, pulling it off the rest of the way. The feeling of it sliding over the open wounds stung, making Steve hiss at the pain. Eddie took the bloodstained cloth from his mouth and tossed it aside before returning to kissing Steve’s stomach.

Eventually, Eddie made it to his navel and caressed his hands over Steve’s side, humming as Steve shuddered at the gentle, yet painful touch. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but Steve grabbed Eddie’s hands and pressed his palms against his wounds, arching his back and groaning at the painful pleasure.

As Steve had hoped, when he removed his hands, Eddie kept his in place and gently gripped, making Steve squirm and almost moan. He couldn’t wrap his brain around why he enjoyed the pain, but he wasn’t going to fight how good it felt.

He was almost disappointed when Eddie slid his hands down to his hips, removing the pressure from his wounds. His breath was heavy as he propped himself onto his elbows and watched Eddie kiss down past his belly button and push the sweatpants over his hips, leaving a tapering trail of blood from each wound.

Steve gasped and his heart punched him in the chest when Eddie shifted his vision so they were making eye contact. A second gasp escaped him when Eddie quickly pushed down on the waistband of his pants, freeing his erection.

Steve sighed as Eddie kissed over his dick and removed his pants the rest of the way, tossing them aside. After Eddie took a second to lick up the shaft, he lifted himself to his knees so he could pull out his own. It wasn’t Steve’s first time seeing Eddie’s cock, but this time, it felt like a threat or at the very least, a warning. Though, if it was with the human version, he felt he might be okay.

Eddie’s hand stroked along Steve’s dick as he crawled over him. The gentle expression on Eddie’s face helped Steve relax and allowed him to lean into the passionate kiss offered to him. He groaned softly at the feeling of Eddie’s hands sliding into his hair and onto his upper back, holding him affectionately.

Steve knew he was in good hands and gripped the back of Eddie’s Hellfire shirt under his leather jacket. He trembled and clenched his face tightly when he felt Eddie line up his hips, taking a minute to rub their dicks together.

Desperately, Steve pressed more into the kiss, shoving his tongue as far to the back of Eddie’s mouth as possible. The hand on his back caressed down and onto his thigh, lifting it up. Steve whimpered and firmly clenched the shirt in his hands in anticipation. Feeling Eddie’s dick rub against his balls only increased his nerves. He tensed and trembled as Eddie moved lower, pressing against his ass cheeks.

Slowly, threateningly, it pushed his cheeks apart. His hands were gripping Eddie’s shirt tight enough to test the fabric. Fuck it! He wanted it. He wanted Eddie inside him. Steve whined when he was gripped tighter, Eddie groaning with relief and pleasure as he pushed his hips forward.

What? To Steve’s horror, he felt nothing. Where was the penetration? Where was whatever Eddie had felt? He unclenched his face to see Eddie’s expression of ecstasy. Eddie was clearly feeling something, but all Steve could feel was Eddie’s body moving against his. Why?

The sensation of something rubbing between his ass cheeks was the closest he got. His grip on Eddie’s shirt released as he stared at his flushing face and listened to his pleasured sounds. Watching Eddie tenderly fuck him without feeling anything made his eyes water in disappointment. He wanted to feel Eddie fucking him and now that he had that chance, he couldn’t feel a damn thing.

Steve whined and returned to gripping Eddie’s shirt, burying his face in his neck. He whimpered a little louder when Eddie picked up his pace. His sounds were amazing and only made Steve want to feel it even more. The cloth in his grasp faded away and was replaced with chains as Eddie’s body enlarged.

Steve gasped when Eddie flipped them over, placing him on top. He pulled his arms out from under Eddie and slowly pushed himself up, gazing down at his stunning, demonic face. They were still in Eddie’s trailer, but it was the one in Hawkins. He rolled his hips and watched Eddie groan in pleasure while he felt nothing other than his balls rubbing against the warm pelvis. He bit his lip and trembled in frustration.

Trying to calm himself, he took a deep breath and leaned back, flinching at something bumping into his back. It was the rope made of tied-together sheets. He looked up and through the gate. On the other side was him riding the human Eddie, moaning desperately with pleasure. That’s what he wanted, and it felt so close.

He silently cursed and grabbed the highest knot on the rope he could reach, keeping it behind him as he used it as leverage to ride Eddie. The literal fire in Eddie’s eyes intensified as he watched Steve’s body with a primal hunger. Every roll of his hips, every bounce, and every pleasured groan from Eddie just added to his frustration. He picked up his pace, slamming his ass against Eddie’s pelvis with everything he had, and all he felt was his ass cheeks hitting him. Eddie’s clawed hands ran up his thighs. He was clearly feeling Steve riding him. Steve needed to feel something, anything.

It was too much, he couldn’t take it anymore. He let go of the rope and picked up Eddie’s hands, pressing them firmly to the wounds on his waist and shouted in pain-laced pleasure. At least it was something.

The sadistic smile that overtook Eddie’s face was chilling. Steve quickly wrapped the rope around his hands again and returned to riding him. He groaned and rolled his eyes up when Eddie dug his claws into the wounds. It may not have been the feeling he wanted, but it helped him add more vigor to his movements, which only made Eddie’s claws dig deeper.

Steve screamed and rolled his eyes up when Eddie dug his claws deep enough into his wounds to use them as handles to control his movements. Steve twisted his hands in the cloth rope and involuntarily pulled, nearly lifting himself off of Eddie entirely.

It hurt like a bitch, but felt amazing, and was the only thing coaxing him in the direction of release. He shouted and shuddered as Eddie slammed their hips together, growling with every thrust. The intense, primal, smirking sneer that twitched onto Eddie’s face was insane and covered Steve in goosebumps.

An extra hard thrust that felt like it could have left bruises on his ass made Steve gasp. It was cut short by a gag as Eddie shoved his blood-soaked middle finger to the back of Steve’s throat. Without thinking, he closed his lips around Eddie’s finger and sucked on it, filling his mouth with the metallic flavor of his own blood.

As he sucked, he rolled his hips, enjoying Eddie’s purr-like growls. Slowly, the claw dragged down the center of his tongue and out of his mouth, continuing its path over his lower lip and down to his chin. He moaned and writhed his hips as the claw scraped down his neck, reopening the cut.

Steve shouted when Eddie quickly scratched his claws down his chest. Out of everything, that was what brought him the closest to cumming, leaving him panting and barely able to keep his grip on the rope. He whimpered and released the makeshift rope, bracing himself on Eddie’s chest. After one more roll of his hips, he clenched his face and dug his fingers into Eddie’s pecs at the frustration of feeling nothing. It was pure torture, and he felt like he was on the brink of tears because of it.

He winced and whined when he felt a gentle hand on his face and Eddie move to a sitting position. Quickly, Steve threw his arms around Eddie and buried his face in his neck, surprised when he didn’t feel the chains. He leaned back to find himself straddling the lap of the human Eddie in the driver’s seat of the stolen RV.

A wave of relief cascaded over him as Eddie’s soft, warm smile widened. Delicately, Eddie’s hands moved to Steve’s back under the denim vest and gently pushed, suggesting they kiss. Steve swallowed and tenderly locked their mouths together.

As soon as their tongues met, Steve was filled with a pleasant desire that overtook his desperation. Even though he couldn’t feel Eddie inside him, the knowledge that he was almost felt like it was enough. He pushed deeper into the kiss and started riding him.

At least he could feel their bodies moving together, their chests heaving against each other, their hips repeatedly meeting, and Eddie’s fingers pressing into his shoulder blades. All of that topped with the feeling of Eddie’s passionate kiss was enough to continue creeping him closer to the orgasm he craved.

Steve shoved his hands into Eddie’s hair, gripping it as he lost himself in every sensation he could feel, even if it wasn’t the one he wanted. He shouted into the kiss when Eddie started stroking his dick.

Fuck! He was so focused on feeling Eddie inside him that he’d entirely forgotten about jerking off. It shot him onto the fast track to reaching his goal. He dove more desperately into the kiss and started moving his body with a newfound vigor. The hand on Steve’s back held him tighter and his dick was stroked faster. It was barely more than a couple of seconds before he was moaning in Eddie’s mouth, pulling his head back by his hair as he came on the Hellfire shirt between them.

It wasn’t the most satisfying orgasm, but he still needed to take a second to compose himself before he could continue riding Eddie. While he may not have been able to feel it, Eddie obviously could, and he wanted him to get off as well. He braced himself on Eddie’s shoulders and bounced on the cock he knew was there. They maintained eye contact as Eddie groaned with pleasure, his hands wandering the entirety of Steve’s back and hips.

When Eddie’s sounds got deeper and he was unable to keep himself from moving his hips, Steve bit his lip in anticipation. Eddie closed his eyes and gripped Steve’s ass, using it to guide his motions, quickening them. Steve panted and stared at Eddie’s face, watching it strain as he got closer. If he couldn’t feel him cum, he at least wanted to watch him.

He shivered when Eddie intentionally made eye contact. The dark irises of his eyes burst into flame and Steve felt as if he fell into them, entirely engulfed in their blaze. He shielded his eyes from the blinding light.

Cautiously, Steve opened his eyes, finding himself staring at the trailer park in the Upside Down. He stepped forward, confused as to why he was there.

“Hey, Steve.”

He turned to see Eddie take a step toward him from in front of the stairs to his trailer. It was just the two of them. No Robin, no Dustin, no Nancy, just him and Eddie. A strange feeling welled up inside him. It was as if longing, sorrow, anger, and passion were all fighting each other to the point that his chest wanted to rip apart.

“I—” Eddie started.

That wasn’t what he said before. Steve’s heart raced. He wasn’t going to let it play out the same as last time. He tossed his flashlight aside and deliberately walked up to Eddie, placing a hand on his waist and the other on the side of his neck.

“I lo—” Eddie’s words were cut off as their lips met.

Steve paid no mind to the clatter of Eddie’s equipment hitting the ground. His only focus was on the satisfactory warmth building in his chest as Eddie grabbed the sides of his jacket and pulled desperately, deepening their kiss. He leaned back with a smile and slowly opened his eyes.

A heaviness fell over him when he found himself staring at his bedroom ceiling. He groaned and rubbed his face. “What the fuck…” He placed a pillow over his face, wallowing in shame.

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

@steddiebang

[fleur-de-violette]

How to tape a card castle

AO3

Summary:

Dick saves the new Robin one day. This is it. This is all. It’s not that he doesn’t want to have a relationship with Jason, it’s just that it’s too complicated. He doesn’t know how to deal with being an adult on top of being Nightwing. He can’t deal with Jason, with what Jason represents, on top of it. Except, when a small injury doesn’t heal up the way it’s supposed to, he ends up being the one who needs saving and he’s finally forced to face the new Robin.

Note:

This fic was longer than expected. Warning for near drowning and infection. There are also situations of kidnapping, murder, assault and stalking, all of these happening to random citizens. The three parts have wildly different lengths, and you can stop anytime that feels right to you depending on the level of angst you want to end with. (I recomand going on AO3 for part 2 and 3. The fic and comments are open for non registered users).   

Act Two

October 12, 2:24 AM

Air feels like heaven. The cold, rancid air of Gotham harbor feels like a warm meal given to a starving man, it feels like hot showers after staying in the snow for too long when it enters Dick’s lungs. From the noise Jason - the noise Robin - makes against his chest, he must feel the same.

“Fuck,” the kid says. “Fuck.”

“Language.”

Jason gives him a stare. “Don’t you dare. I heard you when you’re talking with B.”

Dick snorts. Talking is a big word. He doesn’t think he’s had one non-vigilantism related conversation with Bruce that didn’t end in an argument since… since.

“Are you okay?” he asks instead of thinking about B. He can’t think about him right now. Right now, it’s easier to focus on keeping Jason safe and swimming to the shore.

“Yeah, thanks to you. I learned to swim but this is totally different from the pool we have.”

Dick nods. He had learned how to swim way younger than Jason, on a lake, in Croatia. His parents had told him it was a good skill to have and congratulated him on the broken breaststroke. Most of the places he’s swam in since haven’t been as nice as the sunny lake, with a shore full of grass and his parents laughing with him.

They’re almost to another shore, one made of concrete and lies and disappointment, when Jason says, “Shit.”

“Language,” Dick replies, not without a smile. “What is it?”

“There’s blood.” Jason sounds like he’s panicking. “There’s blood in the water, where is it coming from?”

Oh. That. “Guys got a lucky shot in the back of my right shoulder.” And when Jason’s face twists, he adds, “Relax, the suit took most of it, it’s not deep.” At least, he hopes so. He didn’t have time to check what was happening, but he felt the impact just as he was diving in the sea, after he realized Jason wasn’t going to be able to keep himself above water for long. “And, hey, not a word to B. It will be our secret.”

Jason looks suspicious, but he nods. He probably knows better than to argue with the person pulling him to dry land.

And of course, B is there when they reach said dry land, in all his Batman glory. Dick can’t help but wonder why he didn’t jump into the water. Is it because he trusts Dick, despite everything, or is it because Jason isn’t that important to him after all?

Robin was never meant to be expendable. And yet...

He chases the thoughts away as he helps Jason on the dock and pulls himself up. It looks like he was right. The bullet hit the back of his shoulder, but he still can move his arm fine, so it probably didn’t do much damage. He hopes that in the dark, and given that he’s covered in water, B won’t see a thing.

But maybe he shouldn’t have worried, because B takes Jason under his cape, like he used to with Dick, in a gesture that is so Batman and Robin it makes something in Dick’s heart ache. He suddenly feels very cold, in a way that has little to do with the fact that he just jumped into the harbor, and he feels like running away. Like he needs to get out of here now.

“Did you get all the men?” he asks Batman, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible.

“Yes,” Batman replies. A one worded answer, clear.

Dick feels a buzzing in his head. “Okay,” he says. “Then I don’t have anything left to do here.” But he does. He was here for something. Except, right now, in front of Bruce, he can’t remember what it was.

“Nightwing,” Batman says, almost like an insult. “You went into the harbor. Do you want to come home with us?”

Home. Dick almost snorts. He doesn’t have a home in the manor or in the cave anymore, if he even had one in the first place.

“I’m fine,” he articulates. “Thank you.”

Just as he starts walking toward his bike, Jason untangles himself from Batman’s cape to sprint toward him. “You saved me,” he says. “Thank you.”

He ruffles the kid’s hair. His problem isn’t with him; he actually likes the kid, and maybe it would be easier if he didn’t. “Don’t mention it,” he says. “You’ll do the same one day.” And with that, he’s gone.  

October 12, 4:02 AM

The ride back to his apartment is a blur. He makes more turns in Gotham than he needed to, just clearing his head from the night by riding. He knows he should go back to his place: treat the minor bullet wound on his shoulder, get warm, get some sleep, and fuck it’s Monday. He has to go to work tomorrow (today, this morning), somehow.      

Finally, when the streets of Gotham have done their work, he gets back. He takes the fire exit, even if no one in his building would probably care if they saw Nightwing entering by the front door - that is, if they even know who Nightwing is in the first place. He closes the window behind him. His place is not big, and it’s not exactly fancy, but he can afford the rent, and it’s owned neither by Wayne Real Estate or by a mafia family, so he takes it as a win.

He removes his uniform, he will have to clean it or change it, he thinks he still has a spare somewhere, and ow, his shoulder really hurts now. Not as bad as it could be, but it’s an annoying ache.

He gets into the shower, and warm water makes him feel good until it doesn’t. Until he finally remembers what he was planning to do tonight. He needed information on Gregory Frye, a former Black Mask employee, if he can call him that, who is trying to make a name for himself in the business. Batman doesn’t see him, doesn’t realize how dangerous he can be. How fragile the situation in Gotham is. And even if Dick explained it to him, he wouldn’t believe him anyway. That kind of trust hadn’t really been built between them, even if Dick thought, foolishly, that it could have been. He pushes his head on the shower wall. He wants to scream. Why did he blank? Why did the sole sight of Batman makes him forget why he was there in the first place? Now it would take forever to get the info, and that was time he couldn’t afford to lose, time potential victims couldn’t afford to lose.

October 12, 4:52 AM

The water has long run cold when he gets his head back together, and he shivers when he gets out of the shower. So much for warming up. The clock on his night table shows that it’s almost 5 AM. He needs to leave for work in about two hours. He can do this. Now, he needs to… He needs to clean up his shoulder.

The wound is awkwardly placed, and the bullet is still in there. Not too deep, but still in there. For a second, he thinks maybe he should call the Titans. Wally can be here in less than a minute, and they all learned first aid. It wouldn’t be Alfred’s professional work, but… But, no. Wally has his own things to do, his own life, and Dick can’t call him every time he gets a boo-boo. Not to mention he would probably worry, and what if he…

Realistically, Dick knows none of his friends would ask him to give up vigilantism, and none of them have the power to force him to do anything, but the possibility sends shivers to his spine. He wanted to be an adult, right? He can be an adult. Responsible adults remove the bullets from their back shoulder on their own.

He twists himself in front of the mirror to get as clear of a view as he can while he works. Then, he takes tweezers, bites on a cloth, thinking idly that the neighbors might not mind one more or one less scream, given how often the guy next door just yells for no reason, and gets to work.

He’s quick. Not as quick as he wishes he was, but he’s quick. He’s used to it by now. He removes the bullet, cleans up the wound to the best of his capability, and bandages it. He washes his face to hide all traces of tear tracks and thinks idly that he should probably wear makeup to keep people from staring at him. He hopes the bandages will be enough to keep him from bleeding through his clothes at work, at least. The kids of Gotham see enough every day. They don’t need to see that.

Speaking of which, it’s almost time to go to the school. He tries to remember which classes he has in the morning. He applies light makeup, just enough to hide all traces of the night, and plasters a smile on his smile. He can be the nice and cool gym sub today. And even if he doesn’t feel like an adult, even if he has a hole in his back shoulder, even if he’s running on less hours of sleep than would be optimal, even for him… he can do that. The kids of Gotham deserve that.

October 12, 12:06 PM

The kids of Gotham, he thinks after four periods, don’t deserve shit. They keep mocking his exercises, doing dangerous things, and he caught seven of them trying to skip and three more smoking in the restroom. He hates teenagers, he thinks, even if he’s not much older than a teenager himself.

Except he doesn’t actually hate them, and when he explained to them the danger of cigarettes, one of them mocked him and it should have made him angry, maybe he should have increased the detention time, but it just made him think of Jason. Jason, who probably hid in the bathroom to smoke as well and thought he was hiding it so well, but the smell can’t be hidden. Not from Batman, not from Nightwing, and certainly not from Alfred. Jason, who he saved from drowning yesterday, so maybe his night wasn’t that much of a failure after all.  

He should text Jason. He should text Barbara as well; she might have info on Gregory Frye, and it’s always less mortifying to ask her than it is to ask Batman. But for now, he sends a quick text to Jason, asking him if he’s ok. Maybe he got to skip school. There had been some instances, after traumatic patrols, where Dick had been allowed to skip school. Would almost drowning in the harbor be considered traumatic enough to grant that? For Dick, it wouldn’t have been, but Bruce treats Jason differently. But maybe he was allowed to skip school and decided to go anyway, Dick thinks, remembering that, unlike him, Jason actually likes school.

On cue, Jason replies that he’s at school. “I’m good” the message says. “Got hot cocoa from Alfred just after getting back.”

Dick feels something he can’t quite put a name to in his chest. He was the one who declined Bruce’s offer of going to the manor. He can’t feel jealous about the warm hot cocoa.

“What about you, got home alright?”

Yes, later than he should have been, and then he fished a bullet out of his shoulder by himself. But he doesn’t say that. “I’m good,” he types instead. “I’m at school too.”

“And you’re texting in class, mister gym teacher? That is bad, you know. You deserve a detention.”

“I’m on break, but should you be texting?”

“You’re going to rat me out? No one would ever believe you, teachers love me.”

Dick shakes his head fondly. He needs to hurry if he wants the coffee he desperately needs before his next period.

But when he enters the teachers’ lounge, he can distinctly hear the voice of Andy Evans, the math teacher.

“No,” she says, apparently on the phone with someone. “I don’t want to go to the police, this is getting out of proportion, I never wanted this… I know, but it’s not-” She stops talking when she spots him. “Look, I need to go, talk to you later.”

“Is something wrong?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

She shakes her head. “No, it’s nothing. Everything is fine.”

She’s a pretty bad liar. She looks about as fine as his current relationship with Bruce is. “You know you can tell me if something is wrong, right? I mean, I don’t know how much I can help, but I can always try.”

She sighs. “You’re very kind, but I don’t think I need a young man to help me, it would only make things more complicated. Besides, don’t you have your own life to worry about?”

He does, but it’s easier to help others than it is to take care of himself. But he doesn’t have time to tell her that, because the bell rings at that moment. He didn’t text Babs, and he didn’t have a coffee. Great. “I’ll be here if you ever change your mind. I might be young, but I’m resourceful!” He gives her what he hopes is a winning smile before going back to his classes.

October 12, 5:16 PM

He breathes in, breathes out a few times in his car once the classes are over. He’s exhausted, and his shoulder hurt a bit more than he thought it would. His shift at the bar will start soon, but he needs to call Barbara. He drives a bit away from the school to reach somewhere he’s sure no one will overhear him and gets his phone out.

Babs replies to the call, but she’s less enthusiastic about his calls than she used to be. He can understand why, and it’s his fault. Nowadays, he mostly calls her when he needs info. His fall out with Bruce means she ended up in a complicated situation, forced to pick a side. 

“Any chance you have info on Gregory Frye?” he asks, and he can practically see her disappointed face, despite not actually seeing her. Once again, this is not a social call.

“I don’t exactly have access to the Batcomputer, but I don’t think B has a longer file on him than on any other Black Mask lieutenants. Same for the GCPD. I know you have your own sources, but do you really think that man is any more dangerous than any others? I mean, sounds to me like you’re starting to become a bit obsessive.”

He doesn’t have time for her judgment. “I’m not. I know what I’m doing.” He’s not becoming obsessive. He’s not like Bruce. He knows there’s something up with that man.

She sighs like she doesn’t really believe him. “I’ll let you know if I ever come across something, either as Batgirl or as Barbara Gordon. I need to go, I have a class to be in… Take care of yourself.”

He listens to the phone tone for a few seconds after she hangs up. The words resonate in his head. Right. She has a class to go to. Because she’s in college. Another point he and B have been fighting about, which, in Dick’s opinion, Bruce is being a hypocrite about, as a drop out himself. He was good in school. He didn’t especially like sitting in class all day, but he had good grades. He liked to learn, even if he didn’t like the setting he was learning in. Maybe Bruce was right. Maybe he would have done well in college. Maybe, just like Barbara did, he would have been able to balance studies, a part time job, and vigilantism. But he wasn’t Barbara and he needed to get independent, fast. He needed to get away from Bruce in a way Barbara doesn’t. And if that means working two jobs while figuring out who Nightwing is and trying to save as many people as possible in the process, then so be it.

Speaking of which, he starts his car again, toward the bar, this time. This bartending job helps him get info both on things happening in the underworld and also some police cases Babs doesn’t have access to. It’s a useful tool for Nightwing, as well as a way to help him pay the bills.

There’s a trust fund somewhere he has access to. A gift from Bruce, maybe as a weird way to apologize for firing him and basically kicking him out. He knows that if he uses it, he could quit one of his jobs, but he refuses to open it. He knows he should start giving the money to charities, if only not to let it sit there uselessly. But part of him fears that if he starts touching it, Bruce will see it as proof that he can’t take care of himself on his own.

So, he tries not to think too much about everything and gets ready for his shift in the bar. Besides, he can’t see himself leaving either job. The bar gives Nightwing precious info and the school allows Dick Grayson to hopefully help a kid or two have a better time there than he did. He pushes away the voice telling him it’s also a way to keep himself busy and keep himself from thinking too much. Thinking about what it means for Jason to take over Robin, thinking about his relationship with Jason in the first place and where he currently stands with Bruce. Thinking about how he’s nothing to Bruce, now – not his ward and not his partner anymore - but the man still has so much power over him and can still make him feel like a little child.

October 12, 10:32 PM

“Yeah, terrible. I knew them well, I used to go to the gym with Charles. Him and the kids are still missing, too.”

Dick stops near the table, pretending to clean up something. What is it about children missing?

“You think the dad - Charles, right? You think he could have done it?”

This is the question Dick is also asking himself. He will have to dig up some police files tonight.

“I don’t know,” says the man at the table, “They seemed like nice folks, Luz had her own business, it was going well, he was a graphic designer, they planned to move to Metropolis… Y’know, better school for the kids, they said.”

Dick almost snorts. Yeah, as a teacher in Gotham who was hired with little to no experience, maybe a school in Metropolis would have been better. He will do his best to make sure they can see school. Be it in Gotham, Metropolis, or anywhere else.

“Their marriage was pretty standard, you know, I’ve been to their house a few times, but you never know what happens behind closed doors. God, I am so stupid. I saw him, you know, I saw Charles as some kind of mentor. But if someone like him, good job, no precedents, good marriage and all, if someone like him can snaps and what? Fucking murder his wife and kidnap his kids, what hope is left for the rest of us?”  

The other man at the table calls him and he takes their orders. “To Luz,” he says when Dick brings their drinks.

“To Luz,” the other man replies. “And I’m not often on the side of cops, but I really hope they find the kids. If I was a bit braver, I would go to my contacts but… that’s going to get me a bullet in the head.”

You won’t have to, Dick thinks. Nightwing will be brave for him and find them.

 October 13, 1:26 AM

There is still nothing more than there was the day before about Gregory Frye in the GCPD cases, but he does find a Charles and Luz Prelatte case. She’d been hit in the head with a heavy object and was dead by the time the cops came in after a neighbor complained of the noise; kids and husband are nowhere to be seen. There were no traces of forced entry. The husband is a primary suspect, obviously. The question is: where is he? Where could he and the children be hiding? The police already questioned his friends and checked a bunch of possible locations, without success.

They need someone with a different approach. They need Nightwing. And Nightwing they will have.

 October 13, 2:05 AM

The first thing he notices upon entering the crime scene is that he’s not the first one who’s been here. The first person is good, he gives them that, but he’s better.

He follows their tracks to a big desk in the corner, which both Luz and Charles apparently shared. Did the idiot go back to get his computer or something? But, no, the tracks don’t go to what he assumes is Charles’ side of the desk, with color palettes and logo samples printed. Instead, he finds himself opening Luz’s drawers, looking for something missing. There are tons of documents about her company, plans of getting bigger, hiring, new clients… and it looks like it was really going well for her.

He does a double take when he finds a video cassette. Luz was the founder and CEO of a tech company. It seems uncharacteristic that she would use a cassette tape, especially for something work related. He pockets it and hopes he remembers to put it back if it’s nothing.

October 13, 2:35 AM

It appears very quicky, as he watches it, that the video cassette is a major clue. It shows someone with a mask, as well as Charles and the two kids, all tied up in chairs, with gags in their mouths.

“Since you need a little more encouragement,” the person in the mask says, their voice artificially distorted. They hit Charles in the face. “You know what to do.”

So, this is a ransom call. The police are looking in the wrong direction. Charles is innocent, and a victim, at that. Something in Dick is relieved at the thought. He thinks of the guy at the bar, and thinks there is hope for him, despite whatever was in his past. He thinks that despite everything, the kids will still have a parent.

But that doesn’t help him much in finding them. They look like they are on the docks, in one of the warehouses like there are so many. Looking at them all will take time the kids might not have if whoever has them doesn’t realize Luz is dead and starts to get impatient. He watches the video a few times, tries to increase the background sound, but he finds nothing that could identify the location. Time to try things differently.

The location of the cassette is an important parameter. It was with the documents about Luz’s company. Whoever this person wants is probably related to that, then. Luz had an associate, a woman named Luna McLeod. Maybe that’s where he should start.  

October 14, 2:58 AM

It doesn’t take long to find Luna McLeod’s flat. Despite the late hour, she’s still awake, playing a flashy video game on her computer with headphones. Her place is a long shot from Luz’s. Dick can see four cats, and there’s a mess of gadgets all around the place. Luna herself has blue hair and tattoos. He knocks on the window, and she jumps.

“Who are you?” she asks.

“I’m Nightwing,” he replies. “I’m here to talk about Luz Prelatte.”

And, from his experience, there are a few possible solutions here, depending on her involvement with the case. Either she is going to run, threaten him or… yeah. She starts crying loudly.

“I’m sorry,” she says, opening the window. “I know who you are,” and despite the situation, he can’t help but feel a bit of pride blossom in his heart. She knows who Nightwing is. “I… Luz was my best friend. The police came already. You think Charles did it? Him and I, we didn’t really get along that well, but I thought he was good for Luz, I never saw anything, I… I feel so stupid.”

Dick put his hand on her shoulder, ignoring how much his own shoulder screams at him. “You’re not stupid. And I don’t think Charles is the culprit.” He knows he’s taking a risk, telling her that, but she’s not the person in the mask - she’s way shorter and not as muscular as they are. Besides, on top of her tears, which seem genuine, her behavior isn’t that of someone who has people kidnapped. Her guard isn’t up, and she opened the window for him with a bit of apprehension, but not more than the situation would grant for. Besides, the mess, and the video game… He knows this behavior. She’s keeping herself busy, numbing herself. She’s in grief.

“I think her murder was related to your company.”

Luna gasps. “I…” She looks around, her eyes lingering a bit on her cats. If he had to guess, he would say they are the most precious thing to her, now that Luz is gone. “Do you think I’m in danger too?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. What can you tell me about Cichlid Tech?”

She takes a deep breath. Sits down. “Do you want tea?” she suddenly asks. “I didn’t offer tea, I should have offered tea, I’m sorry.”

“I’m good, thank you.” She’s a mess, and by the way the idea of tea immediately fills him with a longing for the manor, for Alfred’s teapot and cups and for home, he might be too. “What can you tell me about your company? I don’t need any trade secrets or anything, but… would someone be upset enough with your progress to resort to drastic actions?”

She sobs a bit more. “It wasn’t my company. I mean, it was, but Luz was the one carrying everythin., I’m just… I mean, look at me! I’m just a geek, I’m a loser, I can’t go on without her…”

He kneels down and wipes her tears. “You can. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you’re stronger than you think you are, I know it. And I need you to be very strong and tell me anything that comes to your mind about anyone who would have wanted something only she could have given them.”

“I… I don’t think Andrew…”

“Who is Andrew?”

“Andrew Willis. He created the company with us, back when we were students. He wanted to sell it a few years in, but we disagreed. Luz and I we… We really believed in our work. We believed… Luz believed we would be the new Wayne Tech. I know it sounds stupid, but-”

“It doesn’t,” he says, smiling at her. “And, hey. Between you and me, Wayne Tech is not that good.” It is. And he misses the gadgets every day. He misses everything, really.

“So, we bought his part, and he went on to do his own thing. But now that we are, that we were growing, thinking of moving to Metropolis and hiring more people and all, he came back and tried to buy his share back. We refused, because he didn’t do the work to get Cichlid Tech where it is, and it’s too easy to come back just as things are getting brighter. But… Andrew is our friend. It’s true that we had a falling out, but he wouldn’t do that.”

That’s still something. He can work with that. He thanks Luna, and, with a few words of comfort to her, he leaves.

He makes sure to stick a tracker on her on the way out, though. One can never be too careful.

October 14, 3:51 AM

Andrew Willis is easy to find. Dick doesn’t have an easy way of figuring out which warehouse is the one where Charles and the kids are, but at least Andrew Willis is sleeping in his own apartment. Dick doesn’t really know how to proceed. He can see a camera on a desk, but he doubts the video will still be in it. There are also tools that could have been used to enter the crime scene.

He could terrorize him - shake him and force him to confess. But that is the Batman way. He needs to do things differently. He needs to do this like Nightwing would.

That still involves scarring the guy. He gets inside as quietly as possible, and climbs on the ceiling, knowing full well his body is not at a natural angle.

“Where are Charles Prelatte and his children?” he asks when he sees the man stirring, and Andrew just jumps.

“Did Luz send you?” he asks, and Dick didn’t expect a confession so fast. “She must really be determined to not give me what is mine. I guess she cares about that company more than she cares about her family, I’m sure Charles will be happy to-”

“Luz Prelatte is dead. That’s why I’m here.”

Andrew swallows compulsively. “What? No. I just… I hit her, but she was just asleep.”

He seems so distressed, part of Dick almost wants to comfort him. But another part remembers he holds a man and two children hostage in a warehouse.

“You will not get what you want. Not from Luz, not from anyone. It’s over, Andrew. Tell me where they are.”

“Well, if Luz can’t help, I need to go find-”

“Oh no, you don’t.” Dick quickly falls from the ceiling and gets the man’s hands behind his back. Andrew fights a bit, but nothing Dick can’t handle. Once he safely secures him to his bed, he starts searching the place for any indication of the man and kids’ location.

It takes him a bit of work - he has to rummage through the entire apartment - but he eventually gets his hands on a key, with a warehouse number. The whole time, Andrew is yelling at him about his rights and how Nightwing is in so much trouble with his lawyers.

Dick doesn’t really think he’s in trouble, but the screams make his head hurt. He’s happy when he’s finally flying on the Gotham skies, coursing through the night. This is the kind of moment where he can forget everything and just be free.

October 14, 5:02 AM

He hates Gotham Harbor and its endless rows of warehouses. He hates even more that he constantly has to look over his shoulder, afraid to see Batman or Robin. He’s too tired to deal with Bruce now. He doesn’t need to hear that Gordon got his call about Andrew or how he could have done things differently, how he could have been better.

What he really needs, he thinks as he opens the door of the warehouse, is a win. He really, really needs a win.

He lets out a breath when he sees the three chairs, and in them, a man and two kids.

He runs toward them, untying them as fast as he can.

“Hey, hey, I’m here to help you,” he whispers. “Are you hurt?”

The kids shake their heads. They are terrified, but hopefully nothing worse. “We’re okay,” Charles says. “But… What about my wife? She was injured.”

Dick looks at them. This part never gets easier, and there’s no right way to say it, especially in front of the kids. From the way his face breaks, Charles seems to understand.

“I’m sorry,” Dick says. He should probably call the police. He should probably tell them that the family, or what’s left of it, have been found. But he remembers going away in a police car, that night at the circus, away from everything and everyone he loved. He remembers the long hours he spent waiting for Bruce or Alfred to get him after a kidnapping, so he asks, “Is there anywhere safe you could go?”   

“To Aunt Luna’s,” says the older of the two kids, a girl with curly hair and big glasses.

For a second, Dick looks at Charles. He remembers what Luna said about the two not being exactly friendly. But he sighs, and says, “Yeah, let’s go to Aunt Luna’s.”

Charles looks utterly defeated, but he doesn’t cry. Neither do the kids, who maybe don’t quite understand yet that they will never see their mother again. They are also very tired, and the walk is long. At some point, Charles takes the youngest in his arms.

“Do you want to hop in?” Dick asks, looking at the older girl, holding his own out to her.

Despite the situation, she smiles when he takes her in his arms. She’s asleep within minutes.

October 14, 6:47 AM

The arrival to Luna’s place is quiet, and they go in by the front door, something Dick isn’t used to doing as Nightwing. It’s only once the kids are safely in the bedroom, the cats sleeping protectively around them, that Luna talks.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” she says. She’s a bit calmer than when Dick saw her, but she looks like she hasn’t slept all night.

Charles offers her a sad smile. “I never really gave you a reason to appreciate me, I’m the one who should be sorry. But I… The kids are going to need you.”

“I’m going to need you guys too, I… I don’t know what to do now.”

“Me neither. I wish I… Me neither.”

Dick looks at them from the corner of the room. The road ahead is long and painful, but they have each other.

“Look,” Luna says. “The sun is rising.”

Dick looks at the window. The sun is rising. This night is over. 

Shit. The sun is rising.

October 14, 7:39 AM

Dick is welcomed by groans of disappointment. “Mr. Grayson, why did you have to come?” Why indeed. “You know if you’re ten minutes late, we’re legally allowed to skip!”

He doesn’t think this is true, but he keeps a smile on his face as he says, “Well, I’m here now, so let’s start warming up!” He keeps up the cheery façade, even if the two all-nighters in a row start to take a toll on him. He’s met with another concert of groans for his troubles. “Because today we’re playing dodgeball!”

That gets him some cheers. Good. The dodgeball strategy tends to work. Maybe his fellow teachers would scold him for that, but it’s not like he was mentored much anyway. So, if the kids are happy with dodgeball, dodgeball they will have. He owes them that, for being almost ten minutes late.

His back shoulder aches when he shows them the warming up moves. He hasn’t had time to check it properly; he just took a quick shower and changed the bandages. But it wasn’t bad yesterday, so he assumes it’s just the sting of healing, combined with his exertion of the night. He’s fine. He got this.

October 14, 12:12 PM

“Dick?”

He wants to groan or grunt or yell. He doesn’t need anyone else needing him, the kids already exhausted him enough. But he’s not like that, he’s better than that. He’s better than Bruce. So, he says, “Yes?”

“Um, did I catch you at a bad time?” It’s Miranda Joy, the English teacher.

“No, not at all,” he says with a smile, hoping he doesn’t look as tired as he feels.

“It’s about Andy. I know it’s none of my business, but I also know you offered your help, and I think she needs it.”    

“She said I could complicate things…”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know what I know. Her ex is in town. This is… you know how it is. Yesterday, I offered her to go to my place for the night; I don’t know why I did that, instinct, I think - I didn’t want her to be alone, and all that. Anyway as I was picking her up, I saw him. I think he’s stalking her, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want her to panic, and she doesn’t want to involve the police, but if… I don’t know, you’re young, you’re fit, I’m not asking you to beat him up or anything but, you know where she lives, you were invited to the barbecue this summer, right? I would keep vigil, but I’m too scared… But if you could scare him into getting out of Gotham and staying away? She and I would be grateful.”

She looks at him for a second before saying, “I know I’m asking for a lot.”

“You’re not,” he immediately says. “I don’t know how much I can help, I’m not very intimidating.” Except, he is; or at least, Nightwing is. “But I can check on her tonight.”

She looks so relieved at that, it almost makes him forget it adds one more thing to his schedule.

Almost.

October 14, 3:10 PM

“Sabrina isn’t here today?” he asks the team as the girls warm up. “Or is she late?” It’s weird. She’s usually the first one on the track, missing practices for nothing.

“She said she wasn’t feeling well and she went home,” one of the girls says. He ums. She seemed fine yesterday, but he’s going to trust her if she says she’s not feeling up to practice. He makes a mental note to check on her before saying, “Send her well wishes from me. And, hey, any of you guys interested in joining the circus art program I’m trying to start?”

That got them to laugh and tell him to stop it. “But you’ll always be our track and field coach, right? You’re the best one we had so far!”  

He smiles. “I’ll try! You guys are a good team, too. It would be a shame to not be the one who sees you get to the top.” They have a meet soon and they are pretty excited for it. Since the beginning of the school year, he’s seen them improving their confidence and skills around him. See, he can be a mentor. Even if it’s just to a bunch of girls who like running. “Now, on the track you go! There is only one way to go to the top, and it’s not by talking!”

Wednesday, October 15, 0:46 AM

“Ok, sir, you’ve had enough.” And Dick’s shift is almost over, so he would rather not have to take care of a drunk man for hours, that would be great.

The man throws up on the sidewalk once they’re outside. “It’s my night off,” he complains. “I don’t drink when I work, I swear.”

“And I believe you. Is there anyone I can call to come pick you up?” His shoulder aches where he’s holding the man up.  

“My wife, my… her number is on my phone. Oh, fuck, she’s gonna kill me. Doesn’t matter, I’m dead anyway. But I didn’t have a choice.”

“Okay,” Dick says, “I’m going to look in your pockets for your phone, now, alright?”

The man nods and he starts looking for a phone. “What happened to you? Why didn’t you have a choice? Maybe I can help?”

The man laughs. “Unless you can dismantle Gotham’s gangs, I don’t think you can, no.” Dick almost smiles. He would be surprised.

“I’m not going to work tomorrow, nor the day after,” the man whispers very fast. “I’m a security guard on the docks, and I’m not going to work tomorrow, or the day after. I’ve been paid a lot to make it look as if I clocked in, and then go away. I couldn’t refuse, I don’t know what they would have done to me if I said no! But I can’t lose my job now, not with the baby!”

“Paid? By whom?”

The man looks at him, him, and puts his hand up to speak conspiratorially, which works fantastically with his loud slur of a whisper. “Trust me, kid. It’s better if you don’t know.” Dick isn’t sure about that, but he nods, and calls the man’s wife. She curses and says she’s on her way. Once he sees a car pull out in front of the bar and a very pregnant woman gets out, he knows it’s her. She thanks him and gets her husband in the car, not without yelling at him a lot. Dick doesn’t understand everything, but he clearly makes out, “…and drinking on your own when you know I can’t drink? Unfair.”

His shift is almost over, but he has important information. He knows there’s something going on at the docks tomorrow and the day after. Where exactly, and by whom, he doesn’t know, but he plans on figuring it out. But first, he needs to check on Andy.

Wednesday, October 15, 1:30 AM

“And look who’s there? Looking in a lady’s window late at night?”

The man looks up. “That is none of your-” He stops when he can’t see anyone. “Who’s there?”

Dick loves that trick. “Someone who wants to know why you’re watching a woman in her own home. After she had… um… she had a restraining order against you, didn’t she?”  

The man still looks around. “Are you a cop?”

Dick taps on his shoulder once and then disappears. He laughs. “Oh, no, honey, I’m much worse than that. And if you don’t get away from her and get out of Gotham soon, I’ll show you just how much worse I can be.”

“You can’t… You… You’re bluffing!”

So he’s going to have to do it, hmm? He braces himself. Won’t be fun with the still-injured shoulder. He drops down silently, takes the guy under his arms, and then pulls the both of them up. The man screams.

“Shhh, you’re going to wake her up.”  

“Let me go!”

“Are you sure?”

“No, put me down! I’ll leave, just put me down!”

“That’s more like it.”

That was fast, thankfully. He gets the both of them down, and puts himself in front of a streetlight, hoping it will make him look taller than he is. “Leave this city,” he says, “and never come back.”

The man looks like he’s ready to pee himself, so he considers this a success. He will have to check if he’s really gone, but for now, he hopes he won’t bother Andy anymore.

October 15, 2:18 AM

“Let me go, you motherfucker! Help!”

He turns down the alley he hears the screams coming from. He finds a young woman with what seems to be a much older, much stronger man.

“I think she sad no,” he says as he rushes to them.

The man just slowly turns his head to look at him. “And why would you care? This is Gotham. No one cares about people like her.”

“I do,” Dick says. “Get away from her.”

The man grunts, goes to punch him. Too slow. Dick moves fast to avoid getting hit and gets behind him, zip tying the man’s wrists in a few seconds.

“Are you okay?” he asks the woman. “I’m going to call the police.”

“I don’t want to call the police, I just want to go home.”

Dick winces internally. Without her testimony, there is no way the man will be charged. But still, he can’t go against her will, so he just walks her home.

October 15, 2:44 AM

On his way back, just after calling Gordon to give him the location of the man, and hearing confirmation that he can’t be charged without a testimony and that Nightwing doesn’t count as a witness, he makes the mistake to look up.

And that’s when he sees them.  

Robin’s colors are bright in the sky, Batman like a shadow next to him. They’re probably on their way back; tomorrow is a school day, after all.

He suddenly remembers the words from the man he caught. No one cares about people like her.

Batman and Robin fly too high, he realizes as he turns into his street. They see the big picture, but they don’t look enough at the corners. At the details. The details that could change a life.

Dick does. He tries to. He’s not Batman, he’s not Robin. He’s something else.

And something else might be what Gotham needs.

But for now, and if he wants to do good, he needs to sleep.

October 15, 6:30 AM

Maybe sleeping was a bad idea because he somehow feels worse when his alarm rings than he did last night. Still, he has to go to work. He’s glad the team isn’t training this afternoon, despite what he said to them yesterday. At least he might be able to catch some more sleep and maybe look up what’s happening tonight during that time. For now, he just gets ready for a long day ahead of him.

October 15, 12:04 PM

“Dick?”

He smiles. “Andy, hey, how are you?”

She let out a small laugh. “I heard Julian - my ex - I heard he left Gotham this morning. And Miranda confessed she talked to you. I don’t know what you did, or even if you did something… I don’t want to know. But, if you were the one who made him leave, thank you. I can sleep better knowing he’s away.”

Before he can answer, she smiles and says, “I told you, I don’t want to know. I’m leaving you to your break.”

And just like that, she’s gone. But it means he helped. With Luz’s family. With Andy. With the woman yesterday. He helped them. Nightwing can do good. He’s got this.

October 15, 3:01 PM

“Sabrina?” he calls out as he sees her in the corridor. “Are you okay? You weren’t at practice yesterday. Are you feeling better?”

She looks embarrassed. “I think I’m going to stop being part of the running team,” she says, her eyes on the ground.

“Really? Why? You seemed really enthusiastic about it.”

She let out a badly concealed sob.

“Sabrina, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

She finally looks at him, eyes filled with tears. “My dad says if I don’t get better at math, I’ll have to stop being part of the team because it’s taking too much time. I don’t know what to do, I get stressed when I don’t run and when I get stressed, I can’t focus on numbers and stuff!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. We will talk to you father, and how about we talk with Mrs. Evans, as well, and see what she can do to help you understand math?”

She nods. “I have homework for tomorrow and I can’t understand a thing and Mrs. Evans has already gone home,” she says.

He sighs internally. There goes his nap. “I could help you, if you want.”

She looks at him with big eyes. “But you’re the gym teacher.”   

He raises an eyebrow. “And? I’m still pretty good at math.”

She looks like she’s still suspicious of his skills, but it’s not like she has a choice, so she finally agrees, and the two of them make their way to the library.

As she explains her issues and questions, he wonders if Jason is struggling the same way. He and Sabrina are about the same age, they must have a similar curriculum. Gotham Academy is stricter than the school he works in, and Jason was a bit late on his studies. He told Dick, one day, that he liked school, but maybe he still has some troubles with classes. And he seemed more like an English kid than a math kid. Maybe Dick would have been able to help him, like he’s helping Sabrina, even if the numbers dance before his eyes as he does.

Maybe, if things had been different, Dick would have been able to be as there as he wishes he was for Jason. But he can’t look at Jason without thinking about Bruce’s betrayal. About him giving Robin to another kid without consulting Dick first.

But Jason seems happy, and he repeats over and over that Robin saved him, almost the same way Robin saved Dick, too, so he can’t blame the kid. Can’t hate him. He tries to connect with him, he does. They exchanged numbers, they talk, Jason even asked if he could come to his place a few weeks ago. Dick hasn’t answered yet.

“Woah,” says Sabrina. “You’re really good at math, and really good at explaining it. I wasn’t expecting that from you.”

“What, do I look stupid?”

She turns red. “No, that wasn’t what I meant, it’s just-”

He smiles. “Relax, you’re not in trouble. I’m glad I could help.” He is. Even if the prospect of a night at the bar, followed by patrol, makes him want to hit his head on the desk.

October 15, 10:22 PM

The tray shakes in his right hand, and Dick has to bring his left arm to stabilize it. Maybe scooping up Andy’s ex worsened his shoulder more than he thought it would. That, plus carrying the kid the night before.

He will look into it tonight, check if anything is wrong with the wound. But first, he has to figure out where the drunk man from the night before was working and how dangerous the event that will take place tonight will become. Then, depending on the situation, he might take a day off. He’s not working at the bar tomorrow, he can rest for the night.

Batman, Robin, and Batgirl have the city covered, after all. If he’s as useless as Bruce seems to think he is, he can spend one night resting and recovering.

“Are these beers coming today or tomorrow?! Move, boy!” he hears someone yell and he realizes he was spacing out. He must be even more tired than he thinks he is. He hurries to the men and gives them their drinks, hoping no one else noticed. The last thing he needs is to get yelled at by his boss.

October 16, 1:12 AM

He finds the man he saw the night before in the databases of Gotham’s employees and he’s grateful for online databases. All it takes now is a bit of hacking. When he was a kid, he had sneaked into official buildings on multiple occasions to get important documents. It was actually one of the first things Bruce trusted him to do on his own, he thinks fondly, before the memory gets tainted by bitter nostalgia he probably shouldn’t have.

He’s okay. He’s the one who chose to leave, or at least he thinks so. It was complicated.

It’s better thos way. He has to think that way, especially in moments like this, where he’s hurting and tired. He has to think like this, otherwise he’ll just crumble, and he can’t crumble. Not now. He needs to figure out what’s going on in this part of the docks.

Thursday, October 16, 2:53 AM

“I’m sure all of you are wondering what’s going on, and why I’ve gathered you here.”

Dick is wondering that, too. He’s been waiting for over an hour, just watching people gather ‘round - some faces he knew as goons of Gotham, some he didn’t. That is, until a man in a suit showed up. He can’t see his face very well, but his silhouette is somewhat familiar.

He shivers. Fall had been kind so far, with milder temperatures than normal, but he guesses there is only so much Gotham can offer in October… And he had been static for a while. He wants to move, he does, but he has to listen to whatever this person has to say.

“Cut the drama,” someone yells in the small crowd. “We know you have a job for us!”

Dick hears a small laugh from the man. “I do, yes. I’ve gathered you here because I have a very simple job for the ones who are willing to take it. Tomorrow, at 1 AM, a boat will sail into this dock. I need you to unload it and put the contents in a truck. No questions. $200 each tomorrow at the beginning, $400 more when the job is done.”

Someone whistles in the crowd. “Not that I’m saying no to a night at six hundred bucks, but I have to ask… Any chance of the Bat showing up?”

“He has shown no sign that he knows or cares about our operations. If you are fast enough, which I believe you will be, you have nothing to worry about, from him or from us.”

Dick smiles. Maybe Batman isn’t on to them, but he is. And these guys have no idea what’s going to happen to them. Tomorrow at 1AM? Good thing he’s not at the bar then, he thinks, before remembering he had planned on giving the information to Batgirl and not taking care of the case by himself.

“And who is ‘us’ exactly? I’m not working for anyone!” says a tall woman in the group. He knows her, she’s been with Two-Face for a while, but he guesses it didn’t work out, or maybe she wanted to be paid a bit more than $222 a night.    

“That is a good question,” the man in a suit replies, and Dick agrees. He wants to know, too. “You, ladies and gentlemen, will have the honor to work for the rising man of the underworld, the next big name of Gotham.”

“Stop it with the monologue! We’re freezing our asses out here! We want a name!” Once again, Dick agrees with a bad guy.

“You’ll have the privilege of working for Gregory Frye.”   

Dick ears buzz. Thus far, his plan had been to gather information, then call Barbara and let her report to the Bat if necessary. Now, he doesn’t know what he’s going to say.

“Hey, remember the guy I told you might be a big deal but you guys told me he wasn’t and I was being obsessive? Turns out he is a big deal, but I’m a bit tired and my shoulder hurts, so could you handle that please? Thank you.”

Yeah. No fucking way.

It’s his case, Frye is his prey, and he’s going to handle this himself. Besides, if it’s just the goons that are gathered there, he can take them on his own. At least on a good day.     

He’s an adult. He’s a solo vigilante. And he’s capable.

He will show them. He will show him.

October 16, 6:30 AM

Dick is still cold when he wakes up. He is also, he realizes, still in his Nightwing uniform. He probably crashed as soon as he got home, when the adrenaline receded. He changes quickly, remembering from the deep ache that he had meant to look at his shoulder.

He doesn’t really have time now, so he washes it and changes the bandage, barely bothering to look at it when he throws it away. He puts his aching head on the wall. Tonight, he stops whatever Gregory Frye is planning, and then, he will take a well-deserved rest. He feels like crap.

And maybe he should look into his heater, or maybe his insulation, he thinks as he shivers again. It’s not normal that his apartment is so cold, he should really do something about that before winter sets in. But for now, he should just go to school and hope it’s a quiet day.     

October 16, 8:45 AM

The kid screams and Dick has to stop himself from wincing. If only because if he does, the child will see it as proof that his foot is actually badly injured and panic even more. Dick is pretty sure he’s screaming more out of fear than pain, or maybe to not lose face, or maybe because he thinks if he doesn’t, Dick will force him to go back to run the mile.

“It’s just a mild sprain; here, let me bandage it.”

The kid doesn’t have appropriate running shoes. He had told the parents about the importance of good shoes, but some of them don’t have the means to buy a new pair of shoes for their kids, and some outright don’t care about their children’s wellbeing.

His hands shake around the bandage. He’s fine. It’s nothing. He can do this.

And to say he wanted a quiet, easy day.

“Do you want to go to the nurse’s office?” The kid nods. “Okay,” Dick says. “Everyone else be quiet while I walk him. I will know if you behave badly.” And to the laughs, he replies, “Don’t think I won’t.”

As he starts walking, supporting the injured teen with his left shoulder, he hears the class start talking loudly. He rolls his eyes. As long as it’s just chatting, it’s fine.

 October 16, 8:51 AM

“Alright, you’re all set,” he says once the kid is on a cot. “The nurse should be here any minute now. Do you need me to stay, or can I go back to class?”

The kid smiles. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, Mr. Grayson.”

And for a second, Dick doesn’t regret forcing himself out of bed this morning. 

October 16, 2:18 PM

“Mr. Grayson!”

Yeah, they don’t need to call him, he already saw, and he’s already running toward where two kids had apparently decided his class was a good place to start a fight.

“Stop it!” he screams, putting himself between the two boys. “What’s going on?!”

The other kids had gathered themselves around the two fighters, which doesn’t help him in his task. One of the teens moves, and hits him in the back shoulder, and…

He sees stars for a second. The next thing he knows, he’s on the ground, and the students have stopped fighting. Every single one of them is looking at him with horror.

“Sir? Are you okay?” a girl asks shyly, somewhere in the group.

“I barely touched him, he just fell,” says the boy who apparently pushed him. Dick blinks. Grits his teeth.

“You two,” he says to the fighters. “Principal’s office. The rest of you, go back to running.” And to the chorus of protests, he yells, “Now!”

He sees disappointment in their faces, and he can’t help some guilt from blossoming in his heart. He had never wanted to be the kind of teacher who yells at students when tired or frustrated. But he can’t help it. Right now, he is both, and hurting on top of that.

Was that how Bruce felt? Was that why he was screaming? Is he becoming like Bruce? He shakes his head. No need to think about that now. He just needs to get through the day. Finish his classes, and then find out what’s happening with the ship tonight.

 October 16, 4:26 PM

“Coach? Do you want to stop the practice now?”

He blinks. Raises his head. He sat on the bench for a second and maybe spaced out for a bit. Now that there is a little sun, he feels so hot, where he couldn’t help feeling cold the night before. The girls seemed fine running, though, so he let them.

“Hm? What’s the matter, Sabrina? Aren’t you excited to be back?”

She looks uncertain. “I am, but you don’t seem well. And a friend told me you fell today.”

He does his best to smile. Even his makeup skills have their limits, it seems. “I’m okay. And I’m not the one running, so if you guys are up to it, we can start the next exercise.”

Thankfully, she lets the subject drop.  

October 17, 0:32 AM

He’s had better days coursing the Gotham harbor, but he manages to find the boat fairly quickly, shortly before it docks. He climbs on it.

It doesn’t take him long to locate the crates the men had been hired to unload. He expects heroin or cocaine in it.

It’s not.

It’s Venom, he realizes with horror. Gallons of it.

Gregory Frye deals with Bane. That means Bane, who, to his knowledge, hasn’t made anyone talk about him in months, is up to something.

And if Bane is involved, he needs to let Batman know. He can do things on his own, but he won’t withhold information like this.   

But for now, he needs to make sure these containers never touch shore. He could sink the ship. It would be easy enough, but not without risks for the people working on it. He studies the way the crates are tied to the ship’s wall, all while staying out of view.

He can make them fall in the water. Given their weight, recovering them would be impossible before the authorities are involved. Dick doesn’t need to fight, doesn’t want to fight. But he can slow down the operation until Gordon has been notified and a police force dispatched in the area. The crooks will run or be arrested. The Venom will be recovered and put to safety. And whatever alliance Gregory Frye thinks he can have with Bane will be weakened. For tonight, he will count that as a win.

Dick places his charges. Hides. Places some more charges. Hides again as the ship docks. Then, he jumps back into the small boat he “borrowed” from the harbor security, dashes to the shore and grapples to the top of a building. Good.

He detonates his charges. There are some screams. He watches with satisfaction as the crates move, slide, and finally drop to the bottom of the ocean.

He smiles. Now, he just has to notify Gordon, and he will be able to go home and rest. The men will look for him, he can’t stay here, but he plans to be gone long before they get to his location.

“He’s here!” Someone screams from just under him. “It’s the Bat’s little dog!”

What?

There were more people. Frye hired goons to make a security perimeter. He didn’t think of that, and he probably should have.

One look, and he realizes this is too many people to take on his own. His plan doesn’t change. So, he’s spotted. And so, what? He can outrun them on the rooftops of Gotham any day.

He starts flying and they move with him. It soon becomes apparent that there are more pursuers after him than he first expected.

That doesn’t change anything. He was grappling on these rooftops since he was eight. Between Batman, Batgirl, and him, he always was the fastest. He’s faster than these guys. On a good day, he’s faster than Gotham’s crows, even.

Today is not a good day.

Today is not a good day, and when his right arm decides it’s done with him, suddenly and catastrophically, he barely has time to catch himself on a building with his left one.

He climbs the rest of the way. He still can get away. He’s still faster than them. He still can get away. He’s still-

There is a gun pointed at him when he reaches the rooftop. He rolls and the bullet buries itself on the roof’s concrete. The woman holding the gun curses as she reloads, and Dick thinks for a second that he will be able to grapple away from her.

That is, until something hits him in the back of the head. He didn’t see what happened, didn’t even notice another goon. Over the blur in his eyes, over the ringing in his ears, he notices the woman aiming again.       

He rolls. His back is met with a void.

There is a split second when time stops. When he realizes he was at the edge of the building and the only thing that awaits him is a short trip in emptiness followed by Gotham’s asphalt.

He’s falling.

He doesn’t have time to shoot his grapple again, doesn’t have time to stop himself, but somehow, he still has time to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t have rolled.

What is better? Death by gunshot or death by falling?

Who had it worse? Bruce’s parents, or his?

He doesn’t find out. Gotham’s streets don’t welcome him to crash on them. There is an impact, because a fall this fast would lead to an impact, but after it passes, he realizes he’s still alive.

He didn’t crash. Or, at least, he didn’t crash on the streets.

Something falls on him and it takes him a few seconds to realize it’s a trash bag.

A trash bag falls on him, then another, and another, and he realizes he’s             disturbed a precarious equilibrium by falling on this garbage container.

“Where is he?” he hears someone ask and he holds his breath and keeps as steady as possible.

“Must have run away.” Good. The bags are hiding him. “I’m not paid enough for this…”

He lets out a breath when he hears the steps moving away. He’s not comfortable, not by a long shot, but his best chance might be to wait until the goons are gone before leaving. He closes his eyes. He’s probably concussed, not to mention whatever other injuries he could have gotten in the fall, and not to mention whatever is happening with his shoulder. But he’s alive. There was a garbage container to cushion his fall. Gotham had been kind to him.

But because it’s Gotham, and Gotham is never kind two times in a row, this is when big, heavy raindrops start falling from the sky.

He’s still buried in trash, and for an unknown amount of time, he just contemplates his situation, unable to do much more.

It’s raining.

The water droplets are making a repetitive, soothing noise against the container, and he understands why some people listen to rain to fall asleep. The sound is closer to the sound rain made on the manor’s window than it is to the one it made on the fabric of their circus tent. He liked this sound. It was so loud. He always liked to scream with the rain.

His feet, he realizes, are covered in water. The container is filling, and little pieces of trash are floating around him. Maybe he broke some bags when he fell, or maybe people put bagless trash in the container. Possibly both.

The container is filling with water. It will become like the pool in the manor, or like that lake in Croatia. Like Gotham Harbor, where Jason almost drowned what seems like an eternity ago.

The water is still rising. From where he is, half lying down in a mountain of trash, he can see his knees standing out, but he also feels the water on his belly. It’s cold, it’s so cold, and maybe he should have taken Bruce’s offer to go home, even if the situation wasn’t the same and even if home doesn’t exist anymore.

He will drown, he realizes, detached from reality. If he stays here, the water will rise, and then he will drown and die.       

He doesn’t want to die. He knows that. He doesn’t know a lot, he’s still lost most of the time, he doesn’t know how to be an adult, he doesn’t know who he is and who he should be, but he knows he doesn’t want to die.

If he dies, who will jump after Jason next time he falls in the harbor? Who will help him with his math homework?

The thought surprises him. He never helped Jason with math homework, doesn’t even know if the kid needs help. He helped Sabrina, but that’s another thing.

The water is rising. He doesn’t want to die.

He needs to do something. He can’t hear a thing, so he assumes the people who were after him are long gone.

He needs to move.

He forces his body to follow his commands, but when it finally answers, he can barely push himself more than half a foot. His entire right arm is useless, and despite the pain in his head, he can still feel a stabbing agony in his shoulder. This is stupid. The wound was so small, he knows the bullet was mainly stopped by his suit. When he removed it, it had barely gone in. He should not be in that much pain.

Stupid or not, he’s not getting out of this container on his own. Time to face it. He needs help.

He pushes his left hand into the water, that is now almost at his chest, to get his communicator. Alfred gave it to him, and he did some modifications of his own. With a shaking hand, he removes the mechanism that prevents the thing from sharing his location and now…

He looks at the small screen. He needs to find Batgirl. Barbara will tease him gently, and maybe she’ll make that weird face she makes, now, when she’s remined that things aren’t the same as they have been, but she’ll help him out of the container and maybe get him to the clinic or something. She won’t judge him. She will understand, or maybe she won’t, not exactly, but she won’t judge him.

His finger moves until he gets to the right name. Batgirl. And then, he presses call. As soon as he sees the little green dot that shows the person on the other end has picked up, he says, “Hey, so um… I need help. You should be able to see my location. This is…” The water is still rising, his entire back is submerged, now. “This is pretty urgent, actually.”   

“Affirmative, we see your location. We’re close. What’s your status?”

He feels his heart drop. This is not Batgirl. He didn’t call Batgirl. He was so sure of himself, but then again, the names look alike, the screen is small, and letters were dancing in front of his eyes even before he got hit in the head.

“I’m in a garbage container,” he says. He can’t help it - it’s a reflex, intuition. Batman asks a question, and he answers. “I can’t move. Water is filling it.”

He hears a sharp breath on the other end of the line. “How long until you’re under water?”

Dick looks at the water. How long? He doesn’t know, doesn’t want to think about it. But he can’t say that to Bruce, he can’t say that to Batman, and the longer he waits to answer, the more he can feel the disappointment leaking from the comm. Maybe Batman won’t come. Maybe he will leave him here. He didn’t jump after Jason, did he?

The water is rising, just his face is above it now, and maybe there are tears running down his face, but he’s not sure. He’s not sure of much, he’s hot and cold at the same time, half-awake and half-asleep, perhaps half-dead already.

There’s something burning in the back of his throat, and maybe this is tears and maybe this isn’t and he opens his mouth at the same time his stomach revolts.

October 17, Nighttime.

At least the vomit is already right where it belongs in the garbage container, he thinks grimly as he watches his pre patrol meal floating in the water. He’s still alive, and his head is still above water, so he must not have blacked out for long, but the comm is telling him to hold on, and that someone is almost at his location. That safety is almost at his location. That Batman will soon be there.

Except Batman doesn’t mean safety anymore. Batman hadn’t meant safety in a while, now. Why is there still part of him that holds on to that? Why is he still expecting Bruce to show up and fix everything, even if he knows it won’t be the case? Bruce can’t fix Bruce, unfortunately. Or maybe only Bruce can fix Bruce, but he won’t do it.

One of the bags moves and suddenly there is light and maybe it’s day, but it’s not. It can’t be. It’s just a streetlight, lighting up a yellow cape.

“He’s here,” someone screams above him, and this is not safety, this is something else. This is hope. This is what Robin is, what he always has been.

He smiles, because he should smile, because Jason deserves a smile, Jason can’t carry the burden of being hope all alone on his little shoulders.

Jason smiles back. “I found you,” he says, and Dick wants to reply something, but at that moment, a shadow stands next to Jason.

The shadow is not safety. It’s not hope, either. Right now, it’s nothing but shame.

He’s suddenly reminded of his own situation. He’s stuck in a garbage container, covered in waste, rainwater, and vomit. Even Jason, who he thought had lost all sense of disgust, seems to find him a bit disgusting.  

“Help me get him out,” Batman orders, and he plunges his arms in dirty water. One of them goes behind Dick’s neck, and it’s so gentle Dick almost forgets everything else. But then, Batman pulls him out and his head, his shoulder, his entire body explodes.

He screams, or he thinks he screams, maybe he throws up again. He can’t be sure.

October 17, Nighttime.

He blinks. He’s in the Batmobile. “Dick,” Batman says and names and who is driving the car? “I need to know what’s wrong with you.”

Dick almost laughs. What is wrong with him? He’s not up to the task. He’s not fulfilling Batman’s expectations. He wanted to be a hero on his own, he really did, but all he did was mess up. Being an adult is so hard. He’s all alone and he’s so lonely. He wants safety and he wants hope, but neither are accessible, so he tries to be both, for the kids at school, for Gotham’s citizens, for everyone, and somehow, there seems to be nothing left for him.

He doesn’t know who he is, he doesn’t know who he should be, who Nightwing should be, who Dick Grayson should be.

He doesn’t know where he stands with Barbara. He thinks they’re still friends - surely their bond can’t be broken so easily - but sometimes she looks at him with the kind of eyes that say she also wants to fix things, but doesn’t know how. He doesn’t even know where to start; he knows something is broken, but he can’t figure out what.

He wants to know Jason, he does, but Robin is in the way, and he doesn’t know how to stop feeling that way.

Sometimes he wants to run away from Bruce and never hear from him ever again, but sometimes all he wants is to be near him. He doesn’t want to go back to the way things were before, but the awful sting of nostalgia attacks him when he least expects it. He’s lost, he’s so lost, and so cold.

He can’t do this. He tries, he really tries, but his kingdom is a fortress made of cards and the slightest rustle of wind can make it fall to the ground. And the wind blew a little too strongly, and he fell, he fell in a garbage container, and he wanted someone to save him, he really did.

But now he’s out, and he still doesn’t feel better.

But this is not what Bruce is asking. Bruce doesn’t ask that kind of thing. It’s irrelevant to him. This is not the answer Bruce expects, and Dick is tired of not being what Bruce expects, so he tells him, “Concussion.”

Bruce makes a face, his lips a thin line. Dick thinks maybe he should laugh, but he doesn’t really want to.

“There has to be something else. Concussion wouldn’t give you a high fever. Are you at risk of going into septic shock?”  

Dick opens his mouth. Closes it. What is Bruce talking about?

“He was injured,” Jason says from the front seat and is Jason driving the car? “When he got me from the harbor, he got shot in the back shoulder, right side.”

Bruce moves him, and maybe Dick whines a little, but then his uniform is torn, and part of him remembers it’s his last one, part of him thinks it was ruined anyway and part of him wants to be upset with Bruce just because he can.

And then Bruce makes another face, like he, too, doesn’t know what to do when he sees Dick’s shoulder, and this time, Dick laughs.

“What’s the matter?” he says weakly, and his head lolls to the side. “Gonna fire me again?” He was injured in the right shoulder back then, too.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Batman orders, and Dick wants to reply something snarky about not taking orders from him, but he doesn’t think he does.

October 17, Nighttime.

“Why am I naked?”

Maybe this is not the most important question he should be asking, but it’s the one he asks. His Nightwing uniform is gone. He’s in the cave, probably, he thinks.

Robin is here.

Suddenly, a big wall of cold falls on him. Water, he realizes. He gasps and looks at Robin in a way he hopes will make it stop.

“Because you need a shower. We’ve been through this.”

Did they?    

“But why?”

Jason looks very done with this situation. “Because you’ve bathed in trash, and you need to be at least a bit clean before Alfred operates on you.”

Operates? What? He blinks. He’s in the shower of the cave.

“You know you can heat this water, right?”

“I know.”

“Then why is it so cold?”

“It’s not,” Jason bats away Dick’s left hand when he tries to reach for the thermostat. He can’t feel his right one, and maybe he should be more worried about this than he is. “Stop it. Alfred said to use lukewarm water.”

Dick gives him a look he hopes is scary. “Lukewarm, not straight out of a glacier in Alaska.”

Jason rolls his eyes. Apparently, his look is not scary. It might be related to the fact that he’s naked, sitting in a shower, shivering and unable to move. “Oh my god, you’re so dramatic. Lukewarm water. You’re feverish, it’s supposed to help. And it does, because this is the most coherent I’ve seen you since we’ve found you.”

Dick would love to agree, really. But the cave is slowly moving in front of his eyes, darkness creeping at the edge of his vision. He doesn’t want to fall asleep, doesn’t want to leave Jason alone, because Jason shouldn’t be the one who has to take care of him. He’s so young, still, and yet he has to be Robin.

Dick was Robin at younger age, says a voice in his head, but it wasn’t the same. When he was a kid, Robin was him. Nowadays, Robin is just a pile of expectations.

“I’m sorry, Jay.”

Jason clicks his tongue. “It’s not your fault. I don’t know why B said that.”

Dick wonders for a second what B did say, but the darkness creeps closer, his head grows heavier, and he says, “No. I’m sorry I’m gonna pass out.”

Jason’s eyes open, and maybe he says something like, “No, wait-” But Dick doesn’t wait.      

October 17, Nighttime?

In his dream, Batman is kind. In his dream, there is a hand on his forehead, gently pushing away strands of dirty hair, and he feels the leather on his skin, and it feels good.

In his dream, he’s a child again, hiding under the covers, and there is rain falling on the windows of the manor. It makes a repetitive sound, and it feels nice. He’s in the trailer with his parents.

There is a child giggling, and it takes him a second to realize it’s him, or maybe it’s Robin, but these two things haven’t been so different until not too long ago, have they?

He gets out in the corridor, and the walls of the manor shift and he’s falling between the tall buildings of Gotham’s streets. Above, or maybe it’s below him, someone holds their hand out to him, their face twisted in horror. It takes him a while to realize it’s his mother. Had her face always looked like this? Had he forgotten what she looked like?

He lands in a trash container, but maybe it’s a lake in Croatia, the sun beaming on strands of grass, and maybe it’s Gotham’s harbor.

He tries to swim to the shore, but the shore keeps getting away from him.

“Shh,” Batman says. “Relax, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

And then, Batman pushes his head under the water.

Above the sound of the water in his ears, Dick (if that’s still who he is) can hear him say that it’s for the best, that he never needed a partner in the first place.

He wants to ask what it means in regard to Jason, but Batman disappears before he can answer. Dick is left floating in a dark water that doesn’t look like the lake’s at all.

He’s so cold, and so alone.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, in the water. He’s not dead, but he’s not exactly alive, either. Above the surface, there is maybe the ceiling of the cave, and faces looking at him, but it’s all too indistinct.     

That is, until a voice calls him from below. He swims down, and down again, to see Robin. As he gets closer, he realizes this Robin is Jason. He screams his name, and Jason screams back. 

Jason can’t swim. He’s drowning. He needs to get to him, he needs to save Jason, and why is Batman staying at the surface of the water? Can’t he see that Jason needs help? Why wouldn’t he help Jason? Why wouldn’t he help Robin?

Batman fired Dick because he didn’t need a partner, a liability he wouldn’t be able to protect. What does that mean for Jason?

Jason screams for help, he screams over and over again, “Help me, help me, help me!” and Dick tries, he really does, but the water is so heavy, and he’s drowning, as well.

That is, until a force pulls him out of the water. He extends his hand, tries to reach Jason, but he doesn’t know if he succeeds. He doesn’t think he does.

He’s in a white room, still drenched. “Why didn’t you save me?” someone asks, and Dick turns to see Jason, most of his bones broken, covered in blood, uniform torn. “Why didn’t you save me?” he repeats.

“Jason, I-”

“Who is Jason?” Robin asks, and he’s in front of a mirror. This Robin is taller, holding his bloodied right shoulder.

He looks so young. Not a child anymore, but not yet ready to be an adult.

“Why didn’t you save me?” Robin asks again. And Dick doesn’t know what the answer is.

October 17, Daytime

Dick wakes up covered in sweat. It’s not the dark water from his dream, he tries to remind himself. It’s sweat. Jason, and Batman before him, had said something about a fever.

His right arm is immobilized in a sling, and he feels some sort of relief when he realizes he can still move his fingers. There are bandages around his head and an IV line poking out of his left elbow. He’s in the room he used to sleep in when he lived in the manor. He carefully forms the idea in his mind. This is not his room. This is the room he used to sleep in when he lived in the manor.

The blinds have been closed, but he can still see a ray of sunlight coming in thought the window. It must be around midday. He’s in the manor.

He’s in the manor.

He slowly takes the covers off of his body and immediately shivers. The manor tends to be cold in fall, and his pajamas (he tries not to think too much about the fact that there were still pajamas his size here) don’t protect him much when they are this wet.

He sneezes. “Do you want to go home?” Batman had asked the last time he was like this, wet and cold. And he is, except it doesn’t feel like home, not really. It’s a mess of memories and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

He’s in the manor. Batman saved his life. He has to deal with the consequences now. He sneezes again and despite probably being on painkillers, it makes his head hurt. He sniffs. He probably looks miserable. And pathetic, a voice in his head reminds him. Not even able to take care of himself.

He bites his lip. He needs to get a grip on himself. He sniffs again. Okay. Right now, getting a grip on himself probably means getting some tissues. If he remembers well, and he hates that he remembers well, there should be some in the built-in bathroom. He just needs to stand up, walk in the bathroom, and get some tissues. He’s got this.

He slowly gets his foot out of the bed, still shivering in the cold. Maybe he should see if there are some other clothes he could put on, as well. Once he’s sitting up, he takes a deep breath. He can do this.

A voice in his head still tells him he’s pathetic. He stands up, using his left hand to hold the IV pole. It’s just a few steps. He takes one step, head swimming, legs shaking, but he can do this. He takes a second step, then another, then another, until he’s in the bathroom. Now, he just needs to bend down to retrieve the tissue box from the cupboard below the sink. He just needs to slowly bend his knees, and-

He barely has the time to grip himself to the sink so he can sit down instead of falling down. Then, he just stays there, shivering on the cold tiles, still with no tissues, watching as the tube of the fallen IV pole starts to fill up with his own blood. He’s pathetic, he’s pathetic, he’s-

“You’re pathetic.”

This isn’t a voice in his head. He looks up to see Jason next to the door, in civilian clothes, and part of him tries to remember if he’d ever seen Jason in anything other than a Robin uniform, but part of him tries to forget the bloody, broken Jason he saw in his dream.

It was just a nightmare, a vision of his anxiety born from infection and head trauma. It wasn’t- He never had prophetic dreams. Having occasional nightmares of your parents falling is a normal thing when your parents are defying gravity every night. And it never happened since.

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” he asks instead of focusing on the vision.

Jason makes the lollipop in his mouth do a swirl. “Newsflash, Bird Brain. There’s no school on the weekend.”

Despite himself, Dick finds himself smirking. “Nice try, kid, but it’s Friday.”

Jason blinks. “It’s Saturday, Dick. You’ve been in and out an entire day and half.”

Dick wants to joke, to tell Jason he doesn’t fall for his bluff. But something on Jason’s face makes him think he’s saying the truth. Dick lost an entire day and half. Fuck.

October 17, October 18, 1:47 PM

“Does Alfred know you’re eating sweets in the middle of the day?” Dick asks instead of focusing on the day he doesn’t remember. He just wants the look on Jason’s face to be gone.

“Does Alfred know you’re on your bathroom’s floor, destroying all the nice work he did with that IV?” Jason asks in return.

Dick smiles. Mission accomplished. “Touché. Come on, kid, help me up,” he says before sneezing twice. Come to think of it, he still doesn’t have the tissues he came for in the first place.

Jason raises an eyebrow and makes no move to enter the room.

“Might be allergies,” Dick suggests. He doubts it. Between the school and the bar, he falls sick every time his body shows a little weakness, nowadays. Even without the infection, it was only a matter of time.

“I doubt it,” Jason says, echoing his thoughts as he finally enters the room. “Alfred had been cleaning this room almost every day. There is no trace of dust of any kind in here.”

Dick doesn’t know how he feels about that. Alfred had been cleaning this room, his old room, almost every day. For what? Dick knows he doesn’t show the same care for all the empty rooms in the manor, only cleaning them once in a while. He was gone. There was no need to clean this room, unless Alfred expected him to come back anytime.

Part of him wants to be upset, to see it as proof that Alfred didn’t trust him to manage on his own, but part of him sees it as the mark of affection it is. Whenever he needed a room, this one would be ready.

“I think,” Jason says as he puts the IV vertical again. “You’re an idiot who managed to catch a cold on top of it all.”

“Maybe,” Dick grunts as Jason helps him up and they start walking back toward the bed. “This wouldn’t have happened if someone hadn’t decided to give me a shower with ice cold water.”

Jason lets out a dramatic sigh as he puts him on the bed. “It was lukewarm. And, wait, you remember that!”

Dick puts the cover back on himself. He still needs to change out of this pajama. “Yeah, not much else, though.”

“You passed out on me! I had to call B to bring you back to the cave!”

Dick laughs a bit at how offended Jason looks. “Come on, it happens, I’m not the last person who will do that to you, and you’ll do it too, if you stay in the business.” The thought immediately sobers him up. Jason had been lucky, the other day, to be okay, after he fell in the harbor. He might not be as okay every day. Bruce is right on that point. What they do is dangerous. Being Robin is dangerous.

He sniffs again and feels a bit stupid. “Jay, sorry to interrupt the moment, but could you get some tissues from the bathroom?”

“I’m not your maid,” Jason replies immediately, but he gets up from where he’s sitting on the bed and a few seconds later, a box of tissues falls on Dick. He takes one and finally blows his nose.

“Do you want me to get Alfred?” Jason asks.

Dick blinks. “Maybe, did he ask to know if I’m awake?” He shivers again. “I need to change, maybe take a shower, and I don’t trust you to help me. I want warm water.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “You are never going to let that go, are you?”

Dick smiles. “No,” he says.

Jason lets out a dramatic sigh. “I guess I should have known that signing up for a big brother was signing up for him to hold grudges,” he says before leaving, closing the door behind him.

Dick looks at the door for a long time. He had never thought of putting a name on his relationship with Jason. If the kid wants to call him his brother, then so be it. He doesn’t know what it means, he doesn’t know what it should mean. He’s too tired to figure it out.          

October 18, 3:11 PM

“Did Master Jason tell you what happened?” Alfred asks as he shines a penlight in his eyes. Dick is sitting on the bed in a clean, but similar to the previous ones, pairs of pajamas. He doesn’t ask Alfred why they still have clothes in his size, when he’s bigger than Alfred and Jason but smaller than Bruce. He guesses it’s for the same reason the room had been kept clean, and if he thinks about it too much, he’s never going to be able to leave. And he knows he has to leave. Alfred knows it too, and that’s probably why he doesn’t talk about it, either.

“Sort of,” he answers. “My shoulder got infected?”

Alfred nods. “Indeed. It seems like some bacteria from the harbor managed to get in. You are lucky Master Bruce and Jason found you when they did.”

Dick looks away in shame. “I cleaned it, I swear I did.”

Alfred puts back the penlight and runs a hand in his hair. “My dear boy, I have no doubt you did. But sometimes luck just isn’t on our side. Next time, maybe try to call for help before you’re one step away from septicemia.”

Dick is suddenly upset. There is a reason he didn’t immediately call for help when he started feeling bad, and Alfred knows it. He doesn’t like the way the butler talks like it’s all his fault, that of course, he should have known cleaning the wound wasn’t enough, that maybe he didn’t clean it properly in the first place.

But he doesn’t want to fight with Alfred. Fighting with Alfred is always harder than fighting with Bruce. So, he just lets himself fall back on the bed and asks, “Can I sleep for a bit? I’m really tired.”

Alfred makes a face that tells Dick he doesn’t fall for the lie, but he says, “Of course. You need all the rest you can get.” Then he gets up, closes the blinds back again, takes the leftovers from the food Dick barely managed to swallow, and leaves.

All alone, Dick looks at the door again, like he expects it to open. Jason came. Alfred came.

Bruce didn’t.

He’s probably busy. He might have been there for the day and half Dick doesn’t remember. Maybe he knows if he walks through that door, they will fight, and he doesn’t want that. Dick doesn’t know what he wants. He doesn’t want to fight with Bruce, but he doesn’t like that Bruce didn’t come.

He blinks. One second, he thinks he will never be able to fall asleep; the next, he’s drifting away.

October 18, 6:31 PM

“-not a hand, nor a foot, nor an arm, nor a face, nor any other concrete part of the body. Oh, be some other name! What’s in a name? A rose would smell just as sweet if we called it by any other name. Romeo, if he had a different name besides “Romeo,” would be just as perfect as he is with that name now. Romeo, take off your name, and in exchange for that superficial part of you, take all of me.”

Dick blinks. What is going on in this room? Jason, sitting on the bed, takes a breath as Dick imagines he’s thinking of the reply he’s supposed to get, before continuing, “Who is this man who’s hiding in the night and overhearing my private thoughts?”

He puts so many feelings in the part Dick doesn’t really want to interrupt him. Jason waits a bit more before saying, “I haven’t even heard that tongue speak a hundred words, but I recognize the voice. Aren’t you Romeo, and a Montague?”

Dick sneezes, as quietly as he can, but Jason still turns. “You’re awake,” he says.

“Please don’t mind me.”

Jason shakes his head. “No, It’s… I was finished.”

Dick hums. “English wasn’t my favorite subject, but I don’t think that’s the end of that scene.”

To this, Jason blushes. “That’s- I said I’m finished!”

Dick decides to tease him a bit more. Isn’t that what big brothers are for? If Jason wants to call him that, he has to live up to it.

“So, who is playing Romeo?”

“Amy, from my English class. We thought it would be nice to switch gender between the characters and actors.”

Dick nods. “It is nice, and you’ll be a good Juliet.”

Jason becomes even redder. “Don’t tease me!”

Dick smiles. “I’m not, that was good acting. Tomorrow, if I’m cleared up to read, I can give you the Romeo lines if you want to practice.” He doesn’t know why he offers that. He’s never been particularly good at acting, despite how comfortable he is on a scene. Maybe he should have told Jason to go ask Alfred, who was an actor, once, or so he says. Or maybe he should have asked him to invite that Amy girl in, so they could practice together.

But Jason’s face lights up, and suddenly, Dick doesn’t regret offering. The kid then blushes some more and stands up. “I’m going to get dinner,” he says. “Do you want me to bring something up?” He doesn’t wait for the answer before he’s gone. 

October 18, 7:45 PM

“More homework?” Dick asks when Jason comes back in the room, a notebook in hand. He’s slowly munching the food Alfred ended up bringing him.

“Yeah,” the kid answers. “I want it to be all done before tomorrow.”

Dick raises an eyebrow. “Why? What happens tomorrow?”   

Jason doesn’t look at him. “I was thinking maybe you would feel better,” he says very fast.

Dick feels his heart sink. He’s been more or less sleeping all day, yet he still feels tired, Alfred had mentioned nothing about removing the IV, and the new pajamas are already drenched in sweat. Not to mention the pain in his head and shoulder every time the painkillers recede. “Jay, I don’t think I’ll be able to teach you acrobatics tomorrow.” The kid has mentioned it once or twice, so that’s what he must want, right? That’s one thing Dick is confident in.

“What? No, I’m not talking about acrobatics, just, you know. Hang out. You could give me the Romeo lines.”

Dick just falls back into the bed. “I would like that, yeah.” His eyes linger on the door. He doesn’t ask where Bruce is.

“Maybe I could help you,” he says after a time, “with your homework, I mean. I’m pretty good at math.”

Jason looks at him with big eyes. “I don’t need help in math, I’m on the top of my class,” he says, and Dick can’t help but feel some sort of weird disappointment. It’s good, right? He should be happy Jason isn’t struggling academically. Yet, this cancels the fantasy he had about helping him. “Besides,” Jason adds, “this is biology.”

The kid then turns toward him, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Though, maybe you can help me. This part is about the immune system. So, what are the signs of infection?”

Dick tosses him a used tissue that Jason dodges easily. “That’s what I get for being nice to you,” he says, burying his head beneath the covers.

Jason just laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound.

October 19, 00:54 AM

He’s alone when he wakes up. One look at the time, and he guesses why. Batman and Robin are probably out. Alfred is otherwise busy.

He gets up, and a voice in his head tells him that no one will be here to pick him up if he falls again. But maybe that’s what it means to be an adult, right? Picking yourself up when you fall to the ground.

He goes to the window and opens the curtains. Absurdly, he almost expects to see stars. But this is Gotham, and a heavy mantle of clouds is hiding the sky. He doesn’t see Batman and Robin, not that he was expecting to.

He stays there a while, like he’s waiting for something. He shivers. He’s so tired of being cold, yet he doesn’t know if he can change out of his sweat covered clothes on his own, and he doesn’t want to ask for help. Besides, he will feel too hot again in a moment.

His legs threaten to give out, and he sits back on the bed. He doesn’t take his eyes off the window.  

October 19, 02:36 AM

He sees them. He’d taken the covers to put them on while staying near the window, half too hot, half too cold. He’s wondering if maybe the fever is rising despite whatever it is that Alfred put in the IV when he sees them.

They are coursing the sky, as majestic as they can be, and he understands why Gotham inhabitants admire Batman and Robin. It’s spectacular.

And then, they disappear, probably to go in the cave, and Dick tears out his gaze from the window to puts it back on the door.

Batman never comes to check on him.

October 19, 9:35 AM

“If food isn’t an issue, it might be more comfortable for you to switch to oral medications,” Alfred says, when he notices Dick ate most of the breakfast he had made for him.

Dick smiles, even if it’s forced. “Thank you, Al,” he says, holding out his arm for Alfred to remove the IV. It would be more comfortable indeed.

“Turn down,” the Butler orders, “I just need to check your back.”

Dick obeys, and lets Alfred work in silence for a short while before finally finding the courage to ask, “Does he know? About Frye, and Bane?”

He doesn’t have to explain who “he” is. If Bruce won’t come to him, he will get information to him in an indirect way, and that means Alfred.

The butler’s hands freeze for a second where they’re bandaging his shoulder before resuming work. Alfred’s voice is almost too neutral when he asks, “You don’t remember telling him?”  

Dick shakes his head slowly. “You told him as soon as Master Jason and he brought you back to the cave. But you were in bad shape, so it’s no surprise you don’t remember.”

Dick let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. At least this conversation, and the way Batman reacted to it, has passed. And, hey. What he doesn’t remember can’t hurt him, right?

“I don’t know why B said that,” Jason had told, but he’s too scared to ask what was actually said. He especially doesn’t want to drag Jason into that. Jason has been between them enough. Jason has suffered enough.

 October 19, 11:07 AM

 “Why must you make me suffer in this way?”

Dick laughs as he gathers the cards. “That looks like a third win for me.”

Jason looks at him with an outraged face. “You’re cheating,” he says.

Dick just laughs again, only to end up with him coughing. “Jay, how could I cheat?”

“I don’t know, you’re reading my face or something!”

“Oh, that’s not cheating,” Dick says as he deals the cards. “That’s just how you play Old Maid.”

Jason pouts, and when he loses again, he says. “I want to play another game.”

“Did you know,” Dick says, “In France, this game is named le pouilleux. The flea-ridden. The one no one wants.”

Jason looks at the lone queen in his hand. “The flea-ridden one no one wants, hmm,” he says. And his face twists in something so sad, like he feels bad for the card, like he understands, it makes Dick immediately regret he said anything.

“Let me teach you how to make a card castle,” he says suddenly. “This is a valuable skill you’ll need all your life.”

Jason snorts, and at least he doesn’t have that look on his face anymore. “How so?”

“To impress people at school. But I can’t do it one handed.” Not to mention, he probably still shakes too much. “Gather the cards.”

“And then you help me with the scene? You promised.”

Dick didn’t promise anything, but he nods. “Yeah, but first let’s make a castle.”

Jason starts to work. His hands are hesitant at first, but he’s crafty and meticulous, and soon, he gets the first row done.

“We could say there’s a balcony right here,” Dick says. “To put a little Juliet on it.”

The cards fall on the table. “No,” Jason objects. “I don’t want her to fall.”

Dick almost chokes. “You don’t want her to fall? Jay, you do know how this story ends, right?”

“I know,” Jason says, starting the card castle again. “But all we have to practice for class is the balcony scene. Everyone, in duo, playing the balcony scene over and over again. And you know, it’s like they’re stuck on the balcony. And they never reach Act Five.”

Dick thinks about it for a second. “I think it’s a little sad,” he says. “That they’re stuck. That they can’t keep moving.”

“Even if it’s to move toward, you know,” he makes a move that leaves no uncertainty as to what he implies. “Act Five?”

The castle falls again. Jason grunts. “It’s so frustrating. Can’t we tape this stuff?”

Dick laughs, but his heart is not in it. “No, that destroys the point. The point is for it to be difficult.”

“Why? Why must we do things the difficult way?”

“Because otherwise, it’s cheating. Otherwise, it’s lying. And you can’t keep pretending forever.”

He tried to build his own card castle. He did it, even if it was unstable. He will do it again. And again, and again, until either the castle holds on its own, or… Act Five.

“I’m trying again,” Jason says. “I’m trying as many times as needed. It will hold. And if it doesn’t, I don’t care. I’m taping it.”

October 20, 0:07 AM

He watched Jason struggle with the card castle, and then helped him practice the balcony scene over and over again (they’re stuck, they’re stuck, they’re stuck on a balcony that doesn’t exist). He’s exhausted, and yet he can’t sleep.

The manor is his own balcony. He might think he’s safe, but he’s not, and it’s a lie. If it wasn’t a lie, Bruce would have come to see him by now. If it wasn’t a lie, he would have had the courage to go look for him. It’s a lie, and he has to get out. As soon as he can move properly again, he will get out. Get away. Get back to his own life. And maybe he can try to have something with Jason, but it won’t happen in the manor.

But he’s not Juliet, he’s not Romeo. He’s not moving toward Act Five. He’s a Flying Grayson. He’s moving toward freedom.

He has to convince himself of that.

He can’t tape his card castle, he’s just going to have to make it hold.

October 20, 1:32 PM

Dick is bored. He supposes that Jason is back in school, and no one is coming into the room. He could go down, he could move, now that he doesn’t feel like he’s going to fall over any time, but there is something that makes him stay there, in the relative security of his room. He already established that Bruce wouldn’t be seeing him, so if he wants to see Bruce, he’s going to have to take the first step.

The thing is, he’s tired of taking the first step, of filling in the gaps, of trying to understand Bruce. He’s tired of what Bruce means to him, of how much he means to him.

He’s tired. And he wants to go home, but he doesn’t know where that is, or what that is, exactly.

So, he just stays there. This is not that different from the dream, after all. He’s in a middle ground. Stuck in between things.  

And he waits. He doesn’t know what for, exactly. Maybe he waits in hopes that one day, all of this will make any kind of sense. Maybe he waits for Act Five. Maybe he just waits for Jason to come home.

October 20, 5:18 PM

There is something, joy, a drop of pride maybe, that lightens up in him when he realizes his room is the first place Jason goes when he gets home.

“How did the scene go?” His voice cracks a little on the words, and he has to clear his throat. Serves him right for barely talking all day.

“Amazing,” Jason says, “Everyone clapped, and the teacher asked us if maybe we wanted to join the drama club.”

Dick smiles. “And? Do you want to?”

Jason stops right on his tracks. “I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe? I have to think of how much time it will take, considering, you know, my other activities.”

“I think you should,” Dick says. “It’s good to have something else. It’s important to have a life.”

Doesn’t he know it? He had nothing outside Robin. All his friends were vigilantism related. When Robin disappeared, he was left hanging on thin air with no rope.

He sneezes and Jason seems to take it as an opportunity to escape the conversation. “Are you still sick?” he asks.

Dick blows his nose. “I guess my body is busier with the infection than it is with fighting a cold.”

Jason hums and sits down on the bed. “Maybe it’s the flu,” he says.

“Where is that coming from?”

Jason shrugs. “I don’t know, you’ve been looking and feeling shittier than you would have been with a cold, and tons of people have been having the flu recently. Lot of kids were missing at school because of it.”

Dick looks at him with big eyes. Jason raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“And you didn’t think of telling me that before you hung out with me all weekend?”

“Relax, it’s not people I hang out with, and I haven’t been feeling sick. I just meant, maybe it’s the case for your students as well.”

Dick wants to reply something like the fact that he hadn’t been feeling sick means nothing, but something on Jason’s face makes him stop. “I don’t have the flu,” he just says. He hopes he doesn’t, because that would mean more time at the manor, and he wants to be gone as soon as possible. “I’m just feeling shitty because of the infection.”

And just because he can, he grins and says, “Though, the hypothermia by shower sure didn’t help.”

He expects Jason to say something about being dramatic because he is being dramatic, but the kid just looks at the ground.

“Jason?”

Jason blinks. “Hypothermia by shower? Aren’t you being a bit-”

“What is it? What’s going on?” Dick asks, because it’s too late now, Jason won’t be able to cover that something is wrong.

The kid sighs. “You were almost dead when we found you.”

“Almost dead? Look who’s being dramatic now.”

Jason raises his eyes quickly to face him. “Don’t joke about this! How can you be so calm?”

Dick wants to tell him that this is part of the job, that he knew this was a possibility, and that Jason should know that, too, but something prevents him from doing so. Instead, he says, “I’ll be okay. And you found me.” And he won’t stop. He can’t stop.

“And,” Jason continues, “You’ve been joking about how it’s my fault, but you’re leaving out the fact that it is.”

Huh? “What? Jay, what are you talking about?”

“The bacteria came from Gotham harbor. You jumped in to save me and got injured when you jumped. You wouldn’t have gotten a concussion if you were operating at top capacity. Don’t try to deny it, I know it’s true.”  

Dick blinks. Does Jason think that? Does he really think it’s his fault? “I don’t know what B told you-”

“He didn’t tell me anything!” Jason seems maybe a little too defensive. “He didn’t tell me anything. I mean, when we went back from the harbor last Monday, after Alfred checked me up, he made me write a report on what I did wrong and how to fix it and we designed a new training regimen to improve my swimming but the night we found you, he told you, well, that. And then he told me-” Jason stops to take his breath. He looks like he’s one step away from crying. “And then he told me ‘good job finding him’.”

Dick nods. “It was a good job, you probably saved me. I saved you, you saved me, we’re even.” Something poisonous makes its way into Dick’s mind, and he can’t help but add, “So, if you were hanging out with me out of guilt, you can stop, now.”

It’s Jason’s turn to look at him with big eyes. “What? No!”

“What’s with the big brother game, then?” He thought… He wanted to have that relationship with Jason, and when Jason called him his big brother, he felt… something. But part of him still feels as if Jason was mocking him. His place in this family is on a precarious equilibrium, and Jason’s word choices feel like tape on a card castle. Cheating. Forcefully trying to hold together something that is not meant to hold.

“I’ll stop,” Jason says, “If you don’t like it, I can stop saying it. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I’ve been alone most of my life. The ‘flea-ridden’, how do you say it?”

“Le pouilleux… Listen, Jay, I-”

“And you call me ‘Jay’, and you saved me. And sometimes, when I was all alone and hungry, I wished I had a big brother, but maybe this is stupid, and-”

Dick doesn’t wait for him to finish. He reaches out and takes the kid in his arms. He hears Jason hiccup. “I’ve had nightmares of that night at the harbor. I still do, honestly. That, and the night we found you,” he confesses in a whisper.

Dick holds him tighter. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Jason shakes his head on his shoulder. “I understand, I think I understand how B can be. But you have my number. Next time, if you feel overwhelmed, if you need help, you could call me?”

Dick doesn’t want to say he won’t burden a child with his issues, so he just says. “I will.”

They stay like that for a while, until Jason calms down a little, and says, “If I’m a carrier of the flu and you get it, I don’t want to hear you complain.”

Dick just laughs. He doesn’t let him go.

“Brat.”

October 21, 2:29 AM

The noise in the manor doesn’t wake Dick up, per se, because he was already awake, but he had learned to recognize it. Batman is back from patrol.

He waits a bit, eyes open. He knows for a fact his door won’t open. Not unless he opens it himself. The question is: does he want to open it? Is he ready to open it?

He wasn’t ready for anything in his life. He wasn’t ready to lose his parents, he wasn’t ready to become Robin, he wasn’t for Robin to be taken away from him, he’s not ready to become Nightwing, and he’s not ready to become an adult.

He gets out of the bed and opens the door.

His bare feet are silent on the floor as he progresses through the manor. He walks, almost automatically, toward the grandfather clock. He doesn’t think about Bruce, about what is behind that door. About why he’s even going to see Bruce instead of just leaving.

When he opens the door, Bruce is working on the computer. He doesn’t turn, but Dick knows he heard him. There is no sign of Jason. He stays there, behind Batman’s back, for what seems like an eternity, but can’t be longer than a minute, until Batman says, “You shouldn’t be barefoot in the cave.”

And that’s it. Anger is easier to feel than whatever Dick was feeling before. And after the week he had, he could do with something easy.

“Why?” he asks, taking a step toward the computer, “Because I might step on a rusty nail and get an infection?”

He sneezes, and the next second, Batman is in front of him. Taller, always taller than him in a way that is upsetting. “No,” he says, not taking the bait. “Because of this.” And before Dick knows it, the cape is on his shoulders, like Bruce did for Jason a week ago. Kindness, like the Batman from Dick’s dream, that might or might not have a part of truth in it. “Jason says you might have the flu.”

Dick huffs. He should maybe take the offered olive branch, tell a joke about Jason over exaggerating and making up things. Or maybe he should be angry, tell Batman he’s not a child who needs to be taken care of.

“Why,” he hears his mouth ask instead, like a spectator in his own body, “didn’t you save him?”

Batman gives him a confused look. He swallows. “Last week, when he fell in the harbor. Why didn’t you jump after him?”

Bruce stays silent a second more before saying, “You were already there, you jumped almost immediately after he fell.”

Dick blinks. “So, you trust me with his life?” But not with mine, stays unsaid.

Bruce understands it anyway. “I meant what I said in the cave,” he says, and Dick still has no memory of what was actually said. “But still, I’m glad you called us. It was the right thing to do.”

It was a mistake, Dick doesn’t say, because it was a mistake, but Bruce might take it the other way. And Dick doesn’t know how much it was a mistake. Maybe it was. Maybe this entire thing was a mistake.

I should never have had a partner in the first place.  

He takes a step back. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he says. “Don’t try to stop me.”

And yet, part of him for Bruce to reach out, for Batman to stop him.

But Batman doesn’t move, and Bruce’s eyes silently watch him as he puts the cape on a chair and goes away.

The only thing that stops him from hotwiring a car right here right now and getting away – somewhere, anywhere – is the idea of Jason being left alone without a goodbye.  

October 21, 5:35 PM

“So, you’re leaving?”

He hadn’t seen Bruce all day, and Alfred had tried to tell him to stay a bit more, but the butler knows this is a lost fight. Dick still promised to send him updates.

Jason seems disappointed, but Dick can’t stay. After the conversation with Bruce, he physically can’t.

“Sorry Jay, I have to go back to my adult life.” Leslie and Alfred arranged for him to be gone from both his jobs a bit longer, but Jason doesn’t need to hear that. “But, um, the offer goes both ways.”

Jason tilts his head. “The offer?”

“You have my number. If you feel overwhelmed, if you think you need help… Call me.”

[carry-on-my-wayward-boi]

The girl in the pool

There’s something haunting about water in open spaces.

I didn’t always think like this, I used to go to be beach rarely, and every time my family took me there, I cherished it immensely. I consider myself very lucky, I still love going to lakes or beaches (haven’t gone to a river yet, one swimmable, but I guess I would like it too), and the only sport I really imagine myself sticking with in the long term is swimming.

I go swimming every two days now, after a period of solitary confinement, I’m starting to make myself understand that I need to take care of the shape of my body, apart from the self-esteem issues, for the health problems it has been causing me for a year now.

And I’m only 19.

I don’t want to die yet, even if sometimes it seems the only sane option, I’m not that far in the line.

But I go to the pool 3 times a week now, in the last hours of the day, good thing it’s only 15 minutes from my house. And it is so expensive, how I hadn’t realized this when I was younger? I was so naïve, and honestly, I still am don’t let the occasional stream of fancy thoughts convince you otherwise,

I literally don’t know a single thing.

Sometimes it’s a relief the teacher knows me since I was 14, some days it’s tiring to pretend I’m the person I once was, when I didn’t feel like I’ve reached my peak and I’m just holding on before snapping once a week. I sound so selfish, and I know I am, and I don’t care, and isn’t that just so more selfish?

Figures, I am so better at being objective with my flaws now, that’s a good thing, right?

I hate taking a cold shower before entering the pool, it fucking punches me in the gut and takes my breath away, but once I do, I feel a little bit better. I’m too sleep-deprived to analyze that with a metaphor like I tend to do.

Not today though, today the menu is the raw special edition of self-hatred from my fucked-up mind.

Today I’m going again, and the thing that made me start writing this hasn’t crossed my mind since that day at the pool.

There’s much more pressing fears and regrets bubbling in the surface of my sea of thoughts. But I figured, it was better to put this on writing, at least to write one sad novel of my traumas, so pedantic I know. Still, it seemed so right to do it, while taking arm after arm of water without breathing. So here I am again, writing. It would be more fun if I had more time to dwell in metaphors, but I’m out of time, for everything, so this is the best I can come up with.

I almost drowned, that’s the thing.

My mom is certain I did. I don’t really know if some part of me died on that day, but I bet some did.

It was sunny, at least when we arrived at the beach. It was safe, inside a vacation complex that my friend’s family subscribed, and we were young and dumb.

I want to keep saying dumb, cause otherwise I would have to call them cold-hearted traitors, and well, they are the same friends I have now, even if not close, I can’t afford to lose them. Mom doesn’t know why I forgave them,

I guess I hadn’t, I just don’t think too hard about it.

Just four of us went farther in the water that day, the waves were sometimes strong but manageable at the height of our waists. Salty, we threw it around and I remember thinking at last the worries and sadness lurking in the lasts months of the school year shredded off me like cracking dirt. I was the only girl that went that far, most of them went back to the pool, and those knew nothing of what happened that day, so they are in the clear.

(You should know I love you; I don’t think I could if you knew I was dying and ignored it, so yeah, convenient for my brain you weren’t really there)

Because I was. Dying, that is.

Two were on the sand shores, carving in the sand with their hands, or just sitting, I really don’t know. Then, of the four of us, I didn’t realize when, but suddenly we were just one friend and me.

In his defense, he advised me not to go that far in the water, but well I did, I was completely in control, you know? You have to understand, at that age I was too cocky with everything, the way you only can be when everything has gone right for you without too much effort.

Then, I was carried away by the waves, but just some meters. When I realized it, I tried to swim back, getting a little worried when I just keep drifting away, but still in control, you know? That is until I heard yelling. It was my friend, a girl one, and currently the only one I consider a real friend from their lot.

She was in the shore, and the only one that realized I was in danger.

Figures, what good friends I have, but as I said, I fool myself into calling them careless instead, I don’t know if I can keep telling myself that.

She got into the water and went for me, calling my name. But when I asked her recently, she told me she first told the boys I was in danger, and even urged the friend I keep flirting with, to go for me.

You know what he did?

He shrugged and walked away, and then my friend went for me.

He is in Spain now, I even sent him a message telling him I missed him some days ago. He hadn’t replied to that, not to my last 5 messages in the last months, and I don’t know why I bother. He was never a friend I could rely on, I just fancied an idolized version of him he will never be, so it’s so easy for me to let him go. But knowing all that then would have crushed me, I guess time really puts things into perspective.

So, she came for me, and I remember turning around when I heard my name, and getting so worried, because she didn’t really know how to swim. Picture this, she loved me that much, she didn’t know how to swim but still tried, and ultimately, I thank her, I can’t blame her for what happened next.

I remember this so well; it’s engraved with permanent ink before my eyes and inside my lungs.

The waves were getting stronger and taller every time, I was getting scared and even began to expect them to stay below the surface when they crashed. I heard my name, turned around, saw my friend struggling and yelling, I lost focus and yelled at her to go back,

I turned to the open sea and there it was, the biggest wave yet, just some centimeters away from my face.

I couldn’t do anything, it swallowed me whole, with such a force I hope I’ll never feel again if I’m lucky.

Until then, I had been trapped and spited by some waves before, but just two or three turns, and I was free again to breathe.

But not this time

I lost count after more than 20 turns, and when I ran out of oxygen, I just keep turning, eventually inhaling water when I lost control of that.

And I kept turning, my head a mess of disconnected thoughts, but I remember what I was thinking:

My brother won’t be able to move on from my death, my family would crumble, and I wouldn’t be there to help them pick the pieces. The grief of this was mixed with denial, I denied until the very end that I would die there.

I can say I maintained my humor until the very end, cause the tone of my thoughts were on the line of “Seriously? We are going to die like this, turning like a yo-yo? God, I think the fuck not”, and honestly, I stan.

In those moments, which felt like hours or seconds at the same time, I felt like I was in space, without anything solid to bind me to the Earth and consciousness. But I had a wristband, a plastic one of a gay anime of 2016, and I squeezed it as my only tether to reality, even when I swallowed so much water, I believed I would really die.

That cheap faded blue-sky plastic gay thing really saved me, huh. 

I don’t know why god decide to let me live that day, I found myself suddenly freed of the death wave, and half unconscious, I emerged to the surface.

But the nightmare wasn’t over; when I looked around, all I could see was water in all directions.

Let me tell you, I got scared out of my mind, completely freaked out. Where was I, the middle of the sea? And the waves kept coming, bigger than before. I don’t know how my brain was still rational, I guess I’m really at least as smart as they tell me I am, because I really saved myself that day.

I decided to swim in the direction the waves went, obvious for you, but not for me in that moment, and almost was sucked into another wave, when I remembered to swim below the water to not be caught when they crashed.

Finally, I managed to see the coast.

Turns out, I wasn’t that far away, only the big waves kept me from seeing the shore.

From then, I really don’t remember much, I guess the adrenaline kept me from feeling how tired I was. I remember just vaguely touching the sea floor, walking slowly until I was in just sand. It felt so detached, like seeing a movie, I didn’t feel happy or sad,

it was like I didn’t feel anything.

There wasn’t one of the friends that were with me there, just those that were on the sand, one girl asked me if I was okay,

I don’t remember what I said.

My friend told me later, this girl saw me so pale, and that I didn’t reply, just laid there in the sand looking at the sky for a really long time.

I guess I coped like that.

I asked about my friend, the only one that tried to save, and I found her in the pool, safe with another friend and some people. She, and then they, asked me worriedly if I was okay, I only looked half-crazed at her eyes, nodded to myself that she was safe and got the hell out of there, I couldn’t stay one more minute with all those people that left me to die.

I went to the house and slept until the next day.

The following morning, I talked and told everyone that I almost drowned, and brushed their concern with a sarcastic smile, didn’t let them get too close, and even less, close enough to try to comfort me,

you weren’t there when I was dying,

not even cared enough to try to get someone who could save me, so no, you don’t get to see my vulnerable side again.

I remember fragments of the following days, I made myself got into the water the next day, so I didn’t get a trauma with the sea, I apologized to not giving her the respect she deserved, and thanked her for returning me my life, I was really grateful.

I never cried, just felt devoid of emotions.

When I returned home, my mom didn’t tell me then, but I looked half dead, and she got terrified.

You know the worst part?

Even before I was born or my mother had even met my father, my mom had gone to see a fortune teller, who told her she would have 2 sons and a daughter, but the girl would die very young, she should be careful of her.

And my mom never forgot that, not when I was born, or in every moment I was careless or didn’t reply to the phone.

I was 14, I was so young, and I should have died that day.

When I came back, and my mom realized I had survived, she cried the whole night with relief, she never told me this until some days ago I asked. It breaks my heart to know how much she carried on her mind without my knowledge. She made my whole family pray to the gods to return the part of my soul that had gotten scared and left my body, and the next day I was okay.

That was 5 years ago, and sometimes I remember that no one saved me when I was dying, not even one of the friends I would have died to save would do that for me.

Maybe they didn’t realize I was in danger, but again,

I would have.

I can’t forgive them, maybe I shouldn’t, it got me trust issues that run deep and that I don’t like to acknowledge,

I saved myself, I always do, and it will always be like that.

It makes me feel cold, I can’t rely on no one, I don’t want to even, to my family, not to be a burden, even barely coping with madness. I shut it all inside so mom won’t have to deal with all my jumbled thoughts. It’s toxic of me I know, but I have time to unpack all the trauma when I’m on my own, for now she is more important.

But I remembered this whole episode when I was swimming the other day, which have never happened before, and it shook me. I felt trapped, oppressed under the enormous mental weight of the water on me.

I guess the mental craziness was extra spicy that day that decided to serve a dish that was very buried inside.

I still feel like I’m pushing it all inside, I haven’t really allowed this wound to heal, and I’m too afraid I’m too weak to really look it in the eye without losing control of my sanity. I’m a makeshift of strength on the outside, inside everything is crumbling and I wonder how I manage to still be in one piece.

I got very good at pretending and crying without sound.