#I swear I’m gonna put him in a box on a high shelf

[caycanteven]

He needs constant supervision or he’s going to be petty and pull some shit.

[6okuto]

GOOD WITH KIDS

ushijima, suna, hinata, akaashi, sakusa, kita, atsumu with their kids ^__< reader is never mentioned so u can imagine them as single dads if u'd like 🫶

USHIJIMA’s tall, to say the least. his daughter finds this incredibly beneficial to her every few days. all she has to do is walk up to his spot on the couch and look a little fidgety, biting her bottom lip, for wakatoshi to smile. “is something high up again?” “yeah…the cereal’s on the top shelf again! i didn’t put it there last time though, i swear.” she furrows her brows as her dad stands up to his full height. “well, let’s get it down from there together, then.” he easily pulls her into his arms and she giggles, maneuvering her way to sit on his shoulders with practiced ease. “make sure not to bump your head,” he reminds her, slowly walking to the kitchen. “i won’t!” she carefully holds onto him, and wakatoshi’s glad she hasn’t figured out he’s the one who’s been putting things high up whenever she’s finished with them.

SUNA holds his daughter's hand, his phone with two tickets to the barbie movie open in the hand that's free. they had gotten ready together—rintarou had let her put her cutest pink clips into his hair, and made sure to get a shirt that matched the shade of her dress. he took her to buy a whole outfit for the occasion, from the dress to her bag to her shoes. the pair had taken photos and videos, one currently posted on his story that had her face out of view, but bow in her hair shown off. “can i get the barbie popcorn combo, too?” she asks in line. “yeah, you wanna get a photo with the barbie cut-out after?” “yeah, yeah! she looks so pretty.” rintarou hums and lets her swing their arms back and forth, careful not to hit the people around them. “i think you’re even prettier, though.”

HINATA has always supported his son in decorating and expressing himself, which is why when he wanted to decorate his room, he couldn’t say no, even with his lack of artistic skills. instead, they worked together to fill online shopping carts with different merchandise and furniture and got temporary wallpaper that would fit the bill. a couple of weeks later, and now shoyo finds himself sitting on the ground setting up a new desk, surrounded by boxes and different figures that will hopefully fill the bookshelf they built a few hours earlier. “dad?” “yeah?” “do you think i could get some of your team’s stuff, too?” “my—” shoyo fumbles with the screw in his hand in shock. “like, like your shirt? or something signed by uncle bokuto?” the question could make shoyo cry, he thinks, and he makes a noise of excited agreement. “of course you can! do you want to check my old high school stuff, too?”

AKAASHI’s a fan of thunderstorms. his daughter on the other hand, is not. so he’s made it a little game. they’re sitting together in a blanket fort, legs touching and hands on their lap.she fidgets slightly at the sight of the lightning, but starts to count out loud for the thunder. “one, two, three, four…” keiji joins and they watch each other carefully. at eight, the thunder rumbles the house and his daughter reaches over—not for a hug or comfort, but to try tickling her dad who does the same. she squeals as he reaches for her sides, and keiji laughs as she, maybe a little aggressively, tickles him back. when he picks her up to sit her on his lap, she yells, “no fair! that’s cheating!” between giggles and yelps. in mock indignation, keiji replies, “cheating? i would never do that.” yet stops anyway. his daughter jokingly huffs. “i’m gonna get you next time.”

SAKUSA’s eyes widen as his daughter runs up to him, only to hide behind his legs. instinctively, his hand moves to hold and comfort her as he scans the park for what could have scared her. it’s when two large dogs bark that he spots them playing with each other and the dots click. he turns to squat in front of his daughter, who looks at him with wide eyes and a pout that make his heart clench. “dad,” she says softly. “hm?” “do you think i could play with the dogs? they’re…big.” she sends a pointed look to other kids walking up to the owner and their pets. kiyoomi hums again and gently rubs her shoulder. “ it looks like they’re being nice with the other kids, right? why don’t we go together and ask?” his daughter nods and grabs his hand, and kiyoomi’s eyes crinkle as he smiles before walking over with her.

KITA’s son is adamant that his bed is the comfiest in the house. shinsuke’s happy to hear this, of course, even if he’d have to personally disagree. he’s about to rest in your own bedroom, when his son catches up to him in the hall. “do you wanna try my bed?” shinsuke blinks, processing the question. he laughs a little. “i don’t think i’d fit properly.” “we can both fit!” and before he can object, his son is pulling him into his bedroom and onto the bed that was definitely not made for the two of them to fit. but something tells him that he won’t get out of this easily, so he lets out a breathy laugh before crawling in, leaving space for his son to curl in with him. his back will probably hurt a little when he wakes up, but he pulls the blanket over the both of them anyway with a soft smile on his face.

ATSUMU rolls up his sleeves and pretends to crack his knuckles. “y’ready?” “yeah!” his son says with determination. the carnival game worker counts down, and they both get ready with their basketballs. the grand prize, the largest teddy bear, was locked behind a rigged basketball hoop, but the two of them refused to give up. and apparently atsumu’s mind is on another level right now, honed in as he succeeds with most of his tosses, and gets the last needed shot for that damned bear. “dad! you did it!” his son cheers and excitedly pulls on his arm. “ha! and who said i couldn’t play a sport other than volleyball?” “...no one?” “aw, come on,” atsumu whines, “work with me here!” the both of them are play-fighting when the worker manages to get the bear down and hand it to them. there’s huge grins on both of their faces as they shout a thanks. “can i put it in my room?” “and hide this success? it’s goin’ in the living room.” “you can do that?” “majority of the family says yes, we can do anythin’.”

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[davecall93]

Binge (6)

Derek could feel his larger cheeks turn bright red the second he heard Coach say, “Jesus!” As he saw his former player’s new size. “What have you done to yourself?” Coach asked as he walked up to the young man, who was seated on his well-worn sofa. Derek had put on the clothes Peter had brought him, and he could feel the subtle brush of the fabric against his skin, signaling quietly to Derek that he was only continuing to expand. As Coach muttered the question once again under his breath, Derek protested, “I don’t know what’s happening! I can’t stop eating!” Saying out load caused Derek to give a few halting sobs. 

“You certainly were putting it away last night,” responded Coach, dryly, stepping back. “I guess we should get you to a doctor…” Coach stopped and frowned, as if the idea was no good. 

“Oh please, Coach, anything!”

“This might actually be case for one of our medical faculty,” Coach said thoughtfully, nodding in agreement with himself. “Certainly not a for a general practitioner.” 

Derek nodded. “Really, Coach, I’ll do anything.”

Coach nodded again. “And I think we can see someone tonight. There’s a large donors event that the professor I have in mind is attending. I think we could catch him at the tail end and even if he can't talk tonight, he’ll get an idea of the urgency of the situation.” 

Derek shuddered at the idea of being seen by someone else but knew that this was better than he could do trying to wish it away on his own. “Okay, Coach.”

Coach picked up one of the empty boxes Derek had left out during his binge. He looked at Derek and said,  “You can come stay at my house tonight. You probably shouldn’t be left alone.” He put the box down and looked Derek in the eyes and smiled like he would have if he had been sending Derek onto the field when the stakes were high. “You’re gonna be just fine, kid.”

There was something reassuring about Coach’s reaction, reminding him what a decisive, problem-solving type of person his former Coach was. In fact, he felt almost second of relief everything would be all right. The feeling was interrupted when he leaned back and clasped his hands over the belly shelf that had formed in less than 36 hours. “Make it stop…” he prayed in his head. 

A few minutes later, Coach helped Derek maneuver his new body into the front seat of his car. Thankfully, the SUV was sufficiently spacious, and the front seat was already rolled back, as if expecting Derek. Although the evening was not especially warm, Coach turned on the A/C and the cooling air made Derek realize how warm he felt. 

As they drove, they only exchanged a few words here and there. Derek was occupied by the faint relief of getting help, but also the fact that he was sure he was still growing, swearing that his clothes were tighter than when he had first put them on. He wondered how much it would go on, and if someone could find a way to get him to control his binges. Even just that much…

“Have you seen, Peter?” Coach asked suddenly.

Derek froze, blushing even more than earlier. “I mean we yesterday…I….”

“I think he misses having you around. I asked him if he wanted to come over with me but he said something had happened this afternoon between you two and he needed some time and that he would tell me about it later. Did you fight?”

Derek could feel himself tense up. “No, we just…today, he and I…” Derek searched frantically for something to say. 

Coach waved his hand dismissively. “He’s a bit of a diva, I get it. Misses his best friend, wants to make it about him.” Coach chuckled. He did not appear to notice how much Derek was squirming. “I think he liked to imagine you had a little boy crush on him.” Derek did his best to laugh nervously. “I’m sure it’s fine,” said Coach. Derek tried to laugh again but made only a strange yelp that Coach didn’t seem to hear. 

A few minutes later they pulled up to an event venue. There were a few cars, although it certainly did not look like there was an event, or if there had been one it had ended. Once parked, Coach looked at his phone. “Okay, he says it’s winding down. Oh damn… do you mind if I leave you alone for a second? He says I should come chat first.”

“Wait in the car?” Asked Derek. 

“Oh, sorry. There’s back room I can stuff — sorry! Put you in! It’s an old club building.”

“Okay, Coach.” Derek thought for a moment. “Is anyone going to see me?”

“It should be fine.”

Derek got out of the car, still unused to his new relationship to gravity. He walked slowly behind Coach, who held a back door open for him and led him down to a small side office where there was an old desk and some boxes and was otherwise used as storage for things that did not fit elsewhere. Derek sat down on a bench against a wall. 

“I’ll be back ASAP.” Derek watched Coach disappear down the hall, seeing a light brighten the hallway and then dim as he open and shut the door to what Derek supposed was the main hall. 

Derek guessed that he had been alone for 15 minutes when he heard the voice of rambunctious young men coming down the hallway, from the same door he had entered. Before he knew it, the door was open and school athletes, all known to Derek burst in. 

“—and so we were three miles into the trail and he realizes, oh hello! Sorry didn’t see you there” Said the tallest of the group, a 6’6” rugby player named Steven. Shorter than him, but still towering, was Carter, a member of the school swim team. Below them was a 5’10 rower named Adam, in an almost humorous contrast, was a soccer player of 5’5” named Lucas. All were outfitted like waiters. 

Derek felt that he was in a nightmare. The fit, toned, disciplined bodies stood out so sharply in his mind as he felt his larger body appear to go on fire. He struggled to say, “Oh, no worries….” When Lucas went suddenly, “Wait…is that you Derek….”

Derek gulped his, “Yeah!”

“Dude, we heard you quit the team,” said Adam. “Everyone was so bummed about it.”

“Looks like you’ve been eating well,” said Steven, walking up and poking Derek’s distended belly. “Fuck dude. Look at this thing.”

Carter, whose voice was noticeably deep and silky, said quietly, “He looks just fine.”

“Oh, no, judgment,” said Steven. “You’re carrying it well. Come feel this Adam!” As if all were normal, Adam came over put his two hands on Derek’s gut and gave it a quick shake. “Mmmm…beefy. Lucas, come see this.”

Before he knew it, Derek had three athletes inspecting his body. Although his embarrassment had been able to keep a lid on his arousal, he could feel himself getting hard. Thankfully,  Carter said, “Are we doing this or not?”

“Oh yeah…well I think Derek should join us,” said Lucas. 

“Yeah, it’ll level up the challenge,” said Adam. 

“Do what now?” Asked Derek, his voice now constantly underlined with a quiet panic. 

“Oh we’re gonna do a wing contest. We catered this event and there’s a bunch of leftover wings. Then probably go out?” The other men nodded. 

“A wing eating…no, I can’t I…”

Carter, who had not approached Derek yet walked over, leaned down, look into his eyes and said, “C’mon, Derek. You should put this to good use.” Carter pressed his hand into Derek’s gut. “Pick him up guys. He’ll come.”

Derek had spent so much effort repressing his arousal that he was lifted up almost without resistance by the four jocks. He acceded as they drove him down the hall into the main banquet room. The hall was empty except for what appeared to be many steam tables and all the other elements typical to a buffet. At the table were four plates of wings. “I’ll go get a fifth,” said Lucas, as the three other athletes seemed to force Derek into his chair.

Derek looked at the wings for about a minute when he looked up and realized he did not see Lucas in the room. “Where did he go?”

“Let’s start,” said Steven. “He’s not gonna win anyway.”

“Let’s eat,” said Carter.

“Wait why is the —,” Derek was about to ask, realizing the hall looked as if they had arrived after a party but at the start. 

“I said, ‘Eat,’” and before Derek cold say anything else, Carter’s hand brought two chicken wings to Derek’s mouth. Like clockwork, his mouth opened mechanically to chew them, only Derek had to work around the bone. As Derek pulled them out of his mouth to attack them properly, he felt a surge of a feeling from the pits of stomach. He began to work as fast as he could, eating the bones clean and grabbing the next. 

He did not notice that neither Adam, Carter, Lucas or Steven was eating. He barely registered that when he had eaten all four plates of wings, that they had brought him a chaffing dish filled with buttery mashed potatoes, which he finished in its entirety. He welcomed almost unconsciously the spigot that allowed him to glug down beer between each dish. That blissful disconnect that wanted to just chew and swallow and fill the small knot of bottomless pit that seemed to be at the center of his stomach filled his entire mind. He was barely thinking. 

And the boys kept bringing dish after dish. And Derek barely noticed how his stomach was continuing to stretch out as it had done, only barely could he feel the table being pushed away, the sides of his stomach bowing out pushing over his fattened thighs. And sometimes, for a brief second, his stomach would feel tight for a moment, but then suddenly give, allowing room for more. And sometimes, he could feel someone rubbing his stomach, and hear, “What the fuck man, he just keeps eating…”

Derek had no idea how long he had been eating, when suddenly the first little pang arrived, around the time when he had reached his limit at the Chinese restaurant. The little “agh!” It produced made him realize that was no longer in a chair, and, in fact, he had been rolled onto his stomach and he was eating from a makeshift table meant to match the height his head was kept at by his protruding belly. His legs hung down towards the floor, and his hand were filled with what looked to be lasagna. He almost dropped the lasagna but as he stared at it, his mind kicked in again. He did not realize his sweatshirt had been cut to give him room in the back and that his ass had split his sweatpants. 

As Derek continued eating, the pangs grew sharper and sharper. Now, with his stomach’s new surface area, being pushed in by the floor beneath it, the pain felt sharper and bigger, and it determined him all the more to try and keep ahead of it by eating. He felt was barely chewing, and he heard himself shout out beer, wishing to keep his mouth occupied the easiest way possible. He felt the little spigot in his mouth; he could not tell how long it was in his mouth. Except that when suddenly his stomach appeared to hit capacity, he yelped like a wounded animal, sending the spigot out his mouth and noticed a distinct sloshing sensation within. 

“AAAGGGGGHH! IT HURTS SO BAD!” He shouted as he lifted at his head to see who he was crying to. The shock of what he saw was enough to snap him entirely out of his trance. Surrounding his enlarged, growing body was Coach, the four athletes who had brought him into the room, Ralph, Medhi, Ray and the blond man from the Chinese restaurant. There was also the school nurse who had given him his vaccine. 

Coach turned to the nurse and asked, nonchalantly, “Think it’s working, professor?”

The professor nodded. “Even better than expected.”

[batsandbugs]

The Great IKEA Game

Chapter 5: Vent Shenanigans and Keurig Conversations

AN: Okay, this is the last that anyone is going to hear of me for two weeks. Then I’m out of school and will be ready to crank out some more chaos. Until then, I hope you guys enjoy!

Television shows made navigating through vents appear much easier than it was in real life. Then again, they also made being a superhero look easy too, and Marinette was painfully aware how that was false. 

Her knees and back ached from crawling through the low ceiling vents, and though she wasn’t claustrophobic, she was decidedly cramped. And if that’s how she felt, Damian, at more than half a foot taller, had to be doubly suffering. She asked how he was doing.

“I've crawled through far more pleasant vents before,” he replied seriously. “If we could continue quickly, we’ll come out near another vent gate in about ten or so minutes.”

They continued in silence until they came to a fork in the vent.

“Which way?” asked Marinette.

Damian hesitated. “I didn’t see this on the plans.”

“So, you don’t know.”  

“I did not say that.”

“So which way do we go?”

Silence.

Marinette sighed and closed her eyes, poking for the pooled energy inside herself. Being the Guardian of the Miraculous had helped her innate magic to grow in leaps and bounds, but it was her Ladybug powers she ultimately searched for. After being bonded with Tikki for so long, certain… qualities tended to bleed over. One such ability was making decisions infused with good luck. It wasn’t easy, but it was one she had been working hard to master.  

A glimmer of magic burned in her chest, and a fleeting whispered voice told her to turn left. She smiled in the dark of the vent.

“Left,” she said confidently, “we go left.”

“Why?”

Marinette’s smile turned into a smirk, even though Damian couldn’t see her. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to try.” The quickness made the reply appear casual, but Marinette could tell by the steel in his tone it told more truth than intended.

‘Who the hell did I team up with?’ her brain once again asked.

“Let’s leave me off the list,” she said, bypassing the dangerous remark with a gymnast's grace. “Come on.”

She crawled around the corner and, after only a moment’s hesitation, heard Damian follow after her.

Silence reigned for another minute or so before far in the distance they spotted light.

“Oh, thank the Kwamis, an exit,” Marinette muttered.

Damian grumbled behind her. “None of this appeared on the plans.”

“Learn to roll with the flow.” The light grew stronger, so she flicked off her phone flashlight. “Chances are it didn’t take your brothers too long to track me back to our hiding spot. They probably know we’re in the vents. If they found the same plan you did…”

“They won’t have any clue about this.” She could hear the pleased smirk in his voice.

“Exactly.”

The light flooded upwards from the vent floor. The slats in between large enough to view the room below. Marinette crawled over it and maneuvered herself around to face Damian.

“Nice to see your face again.”

The dim light from the vent illuminated his face. “N-Nice to see yours too,” he said. It was at that point, it dawned on Marinette that Damian's view the whole way through the vent was an up close look at her butt. From the heat radiating off her cheeks, it was likely her face was as red as his. She was torn between laughing hysterically and curling into mortified ball and never emerging.

Instead of either of those rational actions though, her mouth, her stupid, stupid mouth, decided to betray her.

“Enjoy the view?” she asked with a grin. ''What are you doing?' She yelled at herself, that was the last thing she wanted to utter.

Damian, if it was even possible, turned redder, and coughed lightly. “You have, uh, your bottom is quite shapely.” By the end of his confession, his voice was a high-pitched squeak, more appropriate for a preteen, then an adult. It took every bit of self-control for Marinette to keep from falling apart laughing.

“Thanks, I exercise,” she responded cheekily. A familiar magical hum settled in her breastbone. Her connection to the Kwamis magic. Marinette held back from rolling her eyes, even as her inner panic grew. One of the Kwamis was helping her to flirt. Probably Plagg judging by her cheesy replies.

‘They are the physical embodiments of the powers of the universe, and they choose to help me flirt. What even is my life?’

“It's working well,” replied Damian, with more of a teasing tone than an embarrassed one, although his cheeks still appeared redder than normal.

“Yeah, well…” Marinette sat there struggling for a reply, when noise from below cut off their impromptu flir- teasing session.

“I swear to God, if I find out who caused the mess in the Market Hall, I'll strangle them with my bare hands,” complained a voice from below.

Marinette winced when she saw Damian looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She hadn’t meant to cause that much damage.

“Oh, come on, Ian, it’s not like it was unscrewed on purpose. A bolt probably loosened and the shelf got bumped into. Blame it on bad luck.”

“Well, can I strangle bad luck then?”

Marinette held back an undainty snort. Plagg's constant whining and complaining coming to mind. ‘There I certain days I definitely want to.’

“I don’t think so. I’m more worried about the giant cart pile up.” At that, Damian raised a second eyebrow, and Marinette shrugged, she didn't controlled what the Bad Luck Balls did. “We’re gonna need to test all the carts to check for any more loose wheels, that’s gonna take forever. Anyway, are you headed home?”

“Yeah, I’m half an hour over the end of my shift,” responded Ian. Marinette could see two people moving around in the room below. “Ooh look, someone brought in doughnuts! You want one Casey?”

“No thanks, still trying to stay on that diet. I just came in here for a drink and then I’m back out on the floor.” The sound of a fridge door opened. “See you next week.”

“Yeah, you too Casey.”

The sound of another door opened leaving the room below silent once more.

“Shopping carts?” Damian asked, half-amused, and half bewildered. “I didn’t hear about that.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Escape was the highest priority, okay?”  

“When would you find the time to accomplish that?”

Marinette hesitated, there was no good explanation to give that would satisfy him. She wouldn’t tell him about the Miraculous or the Kwamis. It was her job, no her duty, to maintain their safety, and after everything she had fought for, bled for, nearly died for... no matter how comfortable he made her, there was no way he'd learn about what she could do. Especially when she had the feeling he was far more than meets the eye. Which didn’t leave much in the way of a good excuse for what she did and how.

Then, as if understanding Marinette’s great need for a distraction, their stomachs rumbled in unison. They looked at each other for a moment before laughing.

Marinette huffed, wiping away a tear of joy from her eye. “Okay, we need to find food to eat.”

Damian nodded. “The food court is a no go now; Drake will monitor it even more closely than before. We could find a vending machine?”

An idea popped into Marinette’s mind. “Or… how about the doughnuts?”

“Huh?”

She pointed down. “This is the breakroom. Ian mentioned doughnuts.”

“That would be stealing.”

“As opposed to the twenty other things we’ve stolen over the course of the past two hours?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “I can back pay those.”

“So, we’ll send them a box of doughnuts once we’ve won. I’m sure the IKEA employees will understand the doughnut's sacrifice to a worthy cause. Besides, breakrooms have coffee machines.”

Damian sneered. “Coffee from a machine will taste will taste like swill.”

“Didn't you say your brother dragged you out of bed at eight this morning? Coffee means caffeine, which means energy.”

He tilted his head and contemplated it for a moment. “Fair point.” He looked at the grate. “It’s probably a ten-foot drop. Can you handle that?”

Marinette had to refrain from rolling her eyes. She had free fallen off the Eiffel Tower before, she could handle a measly ten-foot drop. But Damian wasn't aware of any of that of course. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He dug into his pocket and pulled out the laser pen. “Back up, it’s going to get hot in here.”

Marinette averted her eyes while Damian cut the grate away with the laser, the heat making the metal vent shaft turn into a furnace. She wiped away at a bead of sweat forming at her brow. The grate gave way and clattered against the floor below. Damian put away the laser and gave her a quick smirk. He slipped his legs into the hole where the grate had been and jumped to the floor, landing with a soft thud.

Breathing a sigh of relief at finally leaving the cramped vent, Marinette maneuvered her legs to dangle over the vent opening and slid out, bracing herself for the landing.

But instead of meeting the floor, she found herself caught in mid-air. Damian had her in his grasp, holding her off the floor by a few inches with his strong arms snug around her waist. Their eyes caught and the air between them grew thick with tension. His bare hands brushed against a sliver of her exposed back, the contact sent shivers up her spine.

Neither of them breathed for a brief moment.

“I told you I could handle the drop,” Marinette said, her words barely above a whisper.

“I know.” Damian’s voice matched hers. The look in his eyes impossible to decipher. His arms tightened for a moment, before letting her slip-free.

Marinette smiled, resting her hands against his arms. “Thanks.”

Damian opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it. He stepped back, effectively breaking the bubble around them. Marinette pushed the rapid flutter in her chest away. She could deal with it later when she was far removed from crazy games of hide-and-seek, and dark-skinned boys who made her too comfortable to be safe.

She turned and looked around the room they had dropped into, finding it, thankfully, empty. The last thing they needed was security getting called on them. Spotting the counter with the box of doughnuts on it, Marinette smiled.

She walked over to the box. “Well, it’s no Parisian artisan pastries, but I suppose the chain-restaurant swill will suffice,” she teased, looking back over her shoulder at Damian.  

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he deadpanned. Heading over to the coffee machine to start a new pot. She turned her attention back to the box, the words Krispy Kreme printed on the front in large green letters, several doughnuts still inside.

“Which one do you want?” she asked.

“Anything with chocolate.”

“You have excellent taste.”

“I strive too.” That made Marinette smile. It was such a Chole-like response. She had to make sure never to introduce the two of them.

Marinette pulled out a few doughnuts and put them in the microwave. They would taste much better warm. After a few seconds, she brought the plate over to Damian staring at the ancient coffee machine with distaste.

“Here, you take this.” She pushed the plate of warm doughnuts into his hands. “And I’ll deal with this.” Grabbing a filter to place the pre-crushed coffee grounds into.

“Tt, why don’t they use a Keurig?” he asked with a sneer.

“Uh… because it’s a breakroom in an IKEA?” Marinette was shocked to find a breakroom at all. She’d figured employees would have to lean against the wall if they wanted a break, before being prodded into moving again by their superior. At least, she thought that was what Americans did.

Damian scoffed. “Everyone uses Keurig.”

“Even you, Mr. Machine coffee tastes like swill?”

“No, Alfred makes our coffee in the morning French press style. I do occasionally steal Drake’s Keurig out of his room when he hasn’t slept in four days to watch him cry though.”

“Damian!” she exclaimed.

“What? It’s for his own good. At that point he’s more likely to make a mistake, he needs sleep, not more caffeine.”

Marinette's thoughts flickered to her own Keurig she bought before she left Paris and the number of times she had played out the exact scenario Damian described. “Coffee is a lifestyle.” She grabbed two paper cups and placed one underneath the machine as the coffee dripped.

“It’s a crutch. Drake is a grown man, and he should, mlph-” Marinette cut him off by shoving a chocolate doughnut into his mouth. He glared at her.

“Getting between a determined person and their coffee is a criminal offense and should be punished.” She grabbed a doughnut for herself taking a bite of the sugary pastry. It tasted nothing like her parents’, but her empty stomach didn't care, so it would do. “Who’s Alfred by the way? Another brother?”

Damian took half the doughnut out of his mouth, swallowing the rest. “Most people wouldn’t dare to take the liberties you do with me.”

“Good thing I’m not most people,” Marinette responded with a smile. “You’re avoiding the question.” She took the cup out, now full to the brim of steaming hot coffee, and replaced it with the second.

“No, fortunately, I have no more brothers. Although my father likes to pick up strays so who knows if we’ll obtain another. Alfred is our butler.”

Thankfully, Marinette hadn’t taken a sip of coffee otherwise she might have done a spit-take. “You have a butler?” She had gotten the impression his family was pretty rich, and she was used to her friends having personal staff, but never failed to shock her when this level of luxury was mentioned so casually.

Damian shrugged. “Tt, butler, pseudo-grandfather, the only reason our family functions even semi-normally; same difference.”

Marinette shook her head in exasperation. “If you say so.” She pulled out the second cup, handing it to Damian. He took a sip.

“If mediocre had a taste…”

“Oh, shut up and drink it.”

They devoured their meager rations in silence, going back for seconds on both doughnuts and coffee. Marinette was by no means full when she finished, but at least her stomach wasn’t threatening to eat itself anymore.

“So, where do we go from here?” she asked.

Damian pulled out his phone. “The store closes at nine, which means we either have to avoid my brothers for eight more hours, or…”

“We have to knock them out of the game completely.”

“Exactly.”

“So, are we gonna actually knock them out, or should we just get them kicked out of the store?” She would normally try to avoid the use of excessive force on civilians, but from the few hints Damian had dropped, Marinette figured his family was used to a higher level of insanity. Living in Gotham must have that effect.

“Effective and vicious,” commented Damian, “I like the way you think. As much fun as it would be to knock them out, getting them kicked out is probably the better method. We have… family plans for this evening that potential concussions would make difficult.”

“Who’s our first target?”

“Drake,” said Damian without a moment’s hesitation. “He’s their eyes and ears. The other two are still good at hacking, but he’s the best. Get rid of him, and Grayson and Todd will be scrambling to recover. Plus, he’s the least likely to put up a fight.”

With a plan made, they erased their presence from the breakroom, hiding the lasered off vent grate and discarding their trash. Once confident the coast was clear they snuck out of the breakroom, and into the bowels of the back hallways, leaving nothing but doughnut crumbs and the smell of coffee in their wake.

It was time for the hunters to become the prey.

Tag List (closed, sorry) 

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[tetsurouskuro]

The Equipment Room

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

warnings: college!au, smut, swearing, daddy kink

word count: 3,014

a/n: i followed the stream and started watching haikyuu!! and here i am, writing kink for yet another fandom asdfghjkl! i’m not happy with this but i hope you’ll enjoy it! <3

-

Kuroo loved volleyball. He loved the feeling of adrenaline pumping through his veins as he played. The way he saved the ball or when he scored a point. He loved the way he felt when his team was winning. During his time at Nekoma he had learned a lot. Teamplaying, spikes, receives, faint attacks. When he was made captain of the Nekoma volleyball team he was honored. Of course his reaction to it was too be cocky. “Of course I became captain,” he had said with a smirk on his face. He was glad that he had Kenma with him and he couldn't have asked for a better setter.

But he also loved you. God, how he loved you. He was such a loser for you, but only you knew that. When you started your first year at Nekoma High School you'd never thought that you'd become manager for the boys volleyball team. There you'd learned how much a sport could put different people together, but also how noisy the boys there were; especially the captain of the team.

When Kuroo Tetsurou, the captain of the boys volleyball team started to flirt with you and give you compliments, you only brushed him off. “He's a fuckboy,” you'd thought. But when you started becoming warm with being manager and saw how he encouraged his teammates, lifting their spirits when they felt down and soon you fell in love with the “Scheming Captain” and started dating him.

He got on your nerves. His teasing was both funny and irritating. But one thing was for sure, the sex was beyond amazing. He would tease you during practice. When he knew you were horny and wanted him, he would use his shirt to wipe off his sweat instead of his towel. You'd watch him do it, seeing his abs. Your eyes would travel to his v-line and you would bite your lip. Imagining your lips around the crown of his cock. You'd squeeze your thighs together, but it would only make it worse. Kuroo knew what he was doing and you hated him, until he made you cum.

Now, Kuroo was in college and you were still stuck in high school, without him. Kuroo would come by Nekoma so he could see how his old teammates were doing and when his old squad wasn't watching he would kiss you; make out even.

Kuroo joined his college's volleyball team as soon as he had the chance and to his surprise Bokuto had chosen the same school. So here they were, in the school's gym and practicing together, Bokuto helping Kuroo with his receives.

“So, how's (y/n)?”

“Good.”

“Uh-oh, that doesn't sound good. You two had a fight?” Kuroo sighed and stood up straight. Bokuto held the ball in his hands and watched his friends face.

“No. It's just that these exams are killing me and I haven't seen her in a week. It's so frustrating since I saw her everyday in high school.”

“A week, huh. That's so sad.”

“Shut up, owl head.” The boys started laughing and suddenly the door to the gym opened and in walked... you.

“Ooooooh, it's (y/n)-chan,” Bokuto screamed out and sprinted towards you.

“Hi, Bokuto-san,” you answered back as you were tangled in a big hug by the grey and black haired boy.

“What are you doing here? Missed Tetsu?” he asked while batting his eyelashed at you. “Oi!” He then said as Bokuto felt a ball hit the back of his head.

“Sorry, the ball must've hit my hand wrong,” Kuroo answered with a smirk on his face.

“I leave you two lovebirds alone.” Bokuto said and exited the gym while rubbing his head. Kuroo could only laugh at him as you walked up to him.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Of course. The owl needs to know his place.”

“Tetsu, you don't have to call him that anymore. You're not in high school anymore and besides, you're both on the same team now.”

“He'll always be an owl to me,” you could only roll your eyes at his response. “Why are you here kitten?”

“Oh, right,” you said and started to fumble with your bag, clearly looking for something. “Here.” You handed him a bento box. “I talked with your mom and she said that you forgot to bring your dinner to practice so I thought I'd surprise you.”

“Well, I am surprised,” he took the bento box and pulled you into his embraced and kissed you. “I've missed you.”

“I've missed you too, Tetsu.” His lips were back on yours again. You opened your mouth and let his tongue inside your mouth. Your tongues both dancing with each other. “Tetsu-”

“Come with me.” He grabbed your hand, his hand intertwined with yours as he pulled you behind him and into the equipment room. Letting you go so he could close the sliding doors.

“Tetsu, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I'm doing?” He answered, his gaze locked on you. A smirk plastered on his face.

“Tetsurou, stop. What if someone comes in?”

“Well, then you have to be quiet baby girl, can you do that for daddy?” God. This killed you. You were both scared and hella excited. The two of you haven't seen each other in a week so the sexual tension was sure to be high. You just didn't expect it to happen here.

The both of you had a daddy kink. You had somehow during intercourse moaned out daddy and if Kuroo didn't know know he could get any harder; he did now. Ever since then he had also started calling you “baby girl” when you were alone. It was only a nickname meant for you when the both of you were alone in the bedroom or wherever he chose to take you.

Kuroo placed the bento box you had given him on a shelf near the door while still having eye contact with you. His gaze never left even when he walked towards you. Now, in front of you stood a tall 6'2 man who you adored. Loved.

“Kuroo I don't think-”

“You don't have to think. Just feel,” god, it was hopeless arguing with the man but you didn't want to do it there because soon his teammates were gonna be on the outside, even though the thought excited you.

His hand touched your chin, lifting it up so you could look at him. He then bent down and kissed you, his tongue invading your mouth. His hands on your hips pulled you even closer to him so you could feel his bulge poking you through his shorts.

“Baby girl, I'm so hard for you,” Kuroo speaks as his lips travel to your neck. You tilt your head to the side to make it easier for him. You want him to stop, but also you didn't.

Kuroo turns your body 180 degrees so your back is pressed against your front, his hard on poking at your lower back. He starts to grind his pelvis against your ass, making his already hard cock grow even bigger. You moan out softly because god, do you want him.

“Hmm? What was that?” He asks as his hands that were on your hips starts to slowly caress your ass, squeezing each butt cheek and then slapping your right one. “You like that, baby girl?”

“Yes, daddy.” His left hand squeezes your left breast as his right starts to unbutton those skin tight jeans you chose to wear. Not that Kuroo didn't mind, quite the opposite; he loved them. The way they made that sweet ass of yours look tight and “smackable” as Kuroo had said eveytime you had them on, but now when he wanted them off of you, he hated them.

Once Kuroo managed to unbutton your pants he drags them with both of his hands down your legs, your panties following suit and pushes your back slightly forward so you have no choice but to grab hold onto the plinth that's in front of you.

“Kuroo, what if someone-” slap! A hand against your ass making you flinch and moan at the same time.

“It's daddy for you baby girl and don't worry. No one will come in here.” His left arm slowly caresses its way up until he reaches your front and drags your bra upwards, making your tits spring free. He starts to work his fingers on your sensitive nipple, making you moan out at the sensation.

Suddenly, his fingers are rubbing your slit, lubricating you all over. You hadn't noticed you'd even gotten this wet.

“Does this excite you, baby girl? The fact that anyone from my team can come in and hear you? See you?” His fingers continue to rub your heat, teasing you.

“Daddy, please.”

“Please what, baby girl?”

“Please-” he thrusts two fingers into your cunt, taking you by surprise. Your walls cramping around his fingers. Your hands grip the plinth harder and you try to suppress your moans, but in vain. You let a few slip out at the sensation. The way his fingers thrust into your tight heat and his other hand playing with your erect nipple makes everything feel so good.

Suddenly, voices could be heard from the outside, making you go stiff but Kuroo's fingers didn't stop. They kept going in and out of you, thrusting so pleasurably that you can't help but moan out, his name falling for your lips.

“If you don't keep it down we'll get busted and you don't want that right, baby girl.” The hand the had on your breast leaves only to be placed on your abdomen and travel down to your sensetive bud and start doing small motions.

“F-ffuuck,” a loud moan slips out from your mouth. His fingers curling upwards inside your cunt, hitting your g spot perfectly.

“Do you want them to hear us? Is that it baby girl?” His voice rough aganist your ear. His lips leaving a trail of kisses on the side of your neck.

“No, daddy.” The building sensation you recognize so often, every time you're with Kuroo in fact. “I'm close. God, I'm so close.”

“Yeah?” and he withdraws his fingers from your cunt. The empty feeling of missing his figers inside you has you a whimpering mess.

“Turn around.” Turning around to face him you see that he has pulled down his shorts and breifs. His shirt on the floor beside your feet.

“On your knees and show daddy what a good girl you are and suck my cock.” His right hand is fisting his length and slowly jerking it up and down. A pool of pre cum can be seen on the crown of his cock.

Getting on your knees on the floor you start to grab his cock with your hand but his hand stops yours before you can even grab it.

“No hands, baby girl.” Instead you look up at him, both of your gaze locking onto each other as you slowly open your mouth. His left hand grabs your chin, his thumb on your lip as he slowly psuhes his cock inside your mouth. Your lips close around the head of his cock, the taste of his pre cum slowly filling your taste buds.

“Fuck yes, baby girl.” He groans out and you pull him deeper inside inside your mouth, his cock hitting  the back of your throat. Kuroo lets out a soft groan and grabs a hold of your hair. You then start to bob your head up and down his length, taking him as far as you can.

“Just like that. Fuck, yes. You suck me so good, baby girl.” You keep on bobbing your head, going in an even space as you take him in. His cock keps on twitching every now and then. His hand on your hair keeps getting tighter and soon enough he pulls you away with your hair. Both of his arms grabs you under your armpits and pulls you up, all of your weight and sets your ass on the plinth. The head of his cock rubs your slit, lubricating your labia.

“Tetsu. Kuroo. Daddy. Please.”

“Please what baby girl? Tell me what you want?”

“I want you.”

“No. Tell me what you really want.”

“I want your cock. Please daddy.”

“Of course baby girl,” and he slowly thrusts his cock inside your cunt. Out. In. Out. In. Giving you no time to get used to his size. His size always impressed you. The feeling of his cock stretching your walls, feeling all of his 9 inches inside you.

Throwing your arms around his shoulders you pull him close to you, only for you to bite down on his shoulder to suppress your moans. His own hands on your hips, keeping them in place as he fucks you.

While Kuroo keps on thrusting into you, the voices outside kept getting louder and louder. Balls hitting the floor. Laughter could be heard every now and then. You were scared. You didn't want anyone to find you but you didn't want Kuroo to stop. That would be stupid because his cock kept hitting your g spot and god how you wanted to cum. You felt that familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach building up faster and faster.

“You want to cum, baby girl? You want to cum on my cock huh?” Even without looking at him you could tell that he had a cocky smirk on his face. You could only whimper as a respons to his question. Your wettness was making it easy for him to work you up, the sensation that you're very familiar with returning to you as your teeth bite into his shoulder harder.

“C-close,” you mumble out onto his shoulder, your teeth dug deep into his flesh.

“Cum. I want you to cum, (y/n). I want you to cum all over my cock. Cum all over daddy's cock, baby girl.”

“T-Tetsurou!” Letting go, you cum all over his cock. Your juices covering all of him, making it even easier for him to slide in and out of you. Squelching sounds could be heard as he kept on fucking you.

“The way you tighten around my cock when you cum is fucking amazing,” Kuroo states as his hips keep on pouncing into yours, him nearing his own release. Whenever he's close, his thrusts become sloppier and he wants to cum so badly. He wants to fill up your cunt with his seed.

“I'm gonna fill that cunt of yours with my all my cum, baby girl.”

“Daddy. Please. Fill me.”

“Fuuuck... (y/n)!” His hips stills as his cock jerks inside of you. His legs trembling at his release. Your own legs trembling still after you had your own release a couple of minutes ago. His hands move from your hips to your thighs, holding them for you.

You pull your head away from his shoulder, seeing the bite mark on his shoulder. The redness around it makes you worry. Looking up at him, you're ready to apologize but he reads your expression and knows exactly what you're thinking.

“Don't. I like it. It'll remind me of you at practise later,” a smug smile on his face.

“I can't believe you just did that, Tetsu...”

“Hmm, well I liked it, didn't you?”

“What... I... O-Of course I did,” a blush appearing on your face.

“Thought so.” Kuroo pulls away from you, your soggy heat missing the feeling of him.

“Oh and babe? Don't shower when you get home. I'm not finished with you yet.” He winks at you and you can only blush even more, pressing your thighs together trying to stop the tingling feeling between your legs.

Kuroo pulls on his breifs and shorts and throws on the t-shirt that he discarded earlier. You're busy yourself trying to pull on your own clothes. You can feel his semen slowly coming out of you making you feel embarrassed and horny at the same time.

“Where's Kuroo? We're supposed to be go jogging now”

“Well (y/n) came by earlier, maybe he walked her to the parking lot. Let's go and see if he's there.” The voices faded away from you and Kuroo and the feeling of breathing normally returned to you.

“Looks like the coast is clear.” His voice speaks softly at you.

“I can't believe you Tetsu... someone could've walked in on us you know.” You had your arms crossed over your chest, a sour pout on your lips as you tried to look pissed at him.

“Yes. I know. That's what makes is so exciting with public sex. The feeling of someone could bust us but at the same time thrilling.” He only smiled at you while placing his hands on his hips.

Walking up to him you sighed at him. You loved this man so much, but sometimes he could test your patience and you wonder how you let him do these things to you. Not that you really mind.

“Well. I need to go and you need to jog.” You placed your palms on his chest and his arms went around your shoulders.

“Not that I need it. I've already had my warm up,” rolling your eyes at his comment you act as is he just hadn't said it.

“See you later?”

“Yes. I'm not done with fucking your brains out kitten.”

“KUROO!”

“What? It's true,” laughing at you, the way he closes his eyes and his teeth warming smile you could only smile back, cause you wouldn't want it any other way with Kuroo Tetsurou.

[adorethedistance]

British. Handsome. Charming. - Harry Styles x Reader Retail!AU

Sorta requested.

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive situations, I say titties like once

Words: 2108

Summary: When your coworker calls out and leaves you alone for a graveyard shift, you unintentionally enlist the help of a certain British, handsome, and charming retail employee from next door.

A/N: Hello this is my piece for @meetmeinfleetwood​ ‘s “to lovers” fic challenge! I put my ‘to lovers’ trope as Coworkers Harry and Y/n but I’m kind of riffing off of that trope because I wanted to do employees at different stores in the same section of the mall.

“So, Ziva just called out...” I hear my manager Kelly break the news from behind me. A groan threatens to escape my lungs but I fight the urge as best as possible to save face in front of customers. This is the third time Ziva’s called out of her graveyard shift in the past two weeks. Tonight, we were supposed to unpack the new shipment of holiday tees, gag gifts, and decorations. On a normal night, I can handle floor set by myself, but the added challenge of holiday items and displays is a different story.

“If I take another lunch right now, I can stay and help with the floor set.”

“No,” I wave her off, already dreading the exhaustion that is bound to set in, “Go home. You’ve already done your full eight, I can fly solo for tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go before I regret letting you!” Kelly smiles with the tip of her tongue peaking through her teeth. She thanks me for freeing her and I finish straightening the last of the yellow champion hoodies on the rack in front of me.

“The boxes are on the left side in the backroom.” Backroom… got it.

Working at Tilly’s was supposed to be my high school job. At the end of Junior year, I opted for a minimum wage position to earn some extra spending money. If I’d known I would be attending the most local university in this godforsaken town, I would’ve picked a better gig; one that pays more. Or at least one that doesn’t schedule me from 7:30PM to 3AM.

The store closes at ten but the other four ish hours are for rearranging the entire floor layout. I have to redistribute the table full of graphic tees strategically around the store to make room for the holiday items we just received. With someone else’s help I could expect to be finished by 12:30. Maybe 1. Ziva calling out wasn’t part of the plan however, so I don’t expect to be finished early at all. If anything, I might have to rush to finish before my shift ends.

Not to mention I have a prose analysis final draft due tomorrow by midnight. Ziva better have some damn good excuses when she gets back.

Readjusting the waistband of my favorite jeans against my body, I head to the dressing rooms to double check for any stragglers. Upon finding myself alone, I go lock the front doors and flick off the glowing “open” sign in the front window. Hopefully time will fly faster than it has since I got here. I should’ve asked Kelly to grab me a coffee or a coke to get me through the rest of the shift. Maybe I should do some coke to get me through the rest of the shift.

Okay. What did Kelly say?

Backroom... Was that all? I hesitantly prop the storeroom’s door with the small, tan, rubber wedge before trying to take in the overwhelming mess of the backroom. The room has painfully bright overhead LED lights illuminating my path; the brightness is mirrored off the polished concrete floors under my feet. Considering there’s no holiday bullshit directly in front of me, Kelly must have given me more directions than just ‘backroom’. Graphic tees, sunglasses, jewelry. Nothing.

In my most goddamn genius idea yet, I search the top of the self of the storeroom to see the holiday boxes sealed and intact. Lovely. I can graze the surface of the top shelf with my fingertips just enough to get them dusty, but not enough to pull down any boxes.

Fuck.

This is what we have a ladder for, but we lent it out to the Zara next door. I don’t know what time they close but intuition tells me it's soon. Figuring I have nothing to lose, I dash out of the back room and unlock the front door to round the corner into Zara. Right as I exit the store, I run into someone hard enough to lose my balance, but not hard enough to take the other person down, thank god.

“Woahhh, you alright there?” British.

I look up to the face of the person I collided with. Handsome.

“I’m so sorry, I need to get to Zara.”

“I’m afraid you’re too late for that.” The handsome stranger’s statement catches me off guard and the fog of my rushed mindset disappears. Charming.

“What?”

“Jus’ locked up, I’m afraid.” I look at the completely dark storefront, and then back at the stranger. His gleaming green eyes catch mine and, cliché-ly, I’m rendered breathless by the exquisite nature of his face. Employee.

“You work at Zara,” I state dumbly.

“That, I do. And you work…?” Dropping my eyes to my worn work shoes, I’m suddenly overwhelmingly shy about working at Tilly’s.

“Tilly’s, next door. We lent you guys our step ladder and I need it back.”

“Shit,” the man smiles softly, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “I have the key to the store, but I don’t have the key to the supply closet where we kept it.”

“Dammit.” When I pull out my phone to check the time, I groan at the loss of another ten minutes. “By any chance do you guys conveniently have a step ladder that isn’t in an inaccessible closet?” The beautiful man laughs at my question and shakes his head no.

“We don’t, but I am pretty tall, maybe I could help?”

“You’re not that tall.”

“Taller than you.” My teasing is cut short by the man’s quip and I lead him into the store with conviction.

“Basically, I’m supposed to reconfigure the entire floor layout around the table for all the holiday merch, and the shipment came in but someone brilliantly placed them on the top shelf of the back room.”

“Which is why you need the step ladder from the closet that I can’t open. Gotcha.”

“If you could just get those three boxes from the top shelf right there that’d be wonderful.” After clocking the boxes in question, he nods wordlessly, and slips off his nice coat, no doubt a piece from the store next door. Underneath, he’s wearing a grey button up of which he begins rolling up the sleeves to. The action made me stop breathing for a second. His forearms are littered with tattoos of various drawings, one in particular catching my eye.

It’s a two dimensional mermaid figure with no seashell-bra, her skin transitioning into scales only after exposing her pubic bone. In the fluorescent lighting of the store, it’s clear as day that this is quite possibly the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. What’s he doing working at an outlet mall?

Zoning back in, I see he’s already hard at work. With a box no doubt full of gag gifts on his shoulder, he speaks again.

“I’m Harry by the way.”

I return the gesture and he smiles when he hears my name.

“Pretty.”

Returning his attention to the second box, he reaches up to slide the box closer to the edge of the shelf. When he does so, the hem of his grey shirt rides up to reveal a tiny strip of his toned abdomen, where two mirrored stems of fern leaves are tattooed in strikingly black ink.

I blink quickly a few times to redirect my focus, and divert my attention to the floor where he’s set the first box. This leads me to notice the brown suede chelsea boots he’s wearing. Black coat, grey shirt, brown shoes. Interesting.

“Oh shit!” I hear him mutter in a hushed voice. Looking up to the top of the shelf, I see that the last box has already been opened. Harry is balancing it between both limbs, his shoulder, and his head, but any movement would cause the contents of the box to fall out.

I rush forward to help. Moving the flaps of the box back over the top, I reach across Harry’s body to move them. Then, to keep them shut I place one palm on top of the seam, and use the other hand to support the bottom of the box. It isn’t until I stop moving that I notice the position I’ve put us in. I’m reaching up as far as I can to secure the top of the box which has placed the entire front side of my body to the back of his. I’m painfully aware of how my hips are pressed against his ass, and he must be painfully aware of the way my titties are pressed against his upper back.

“I’m gonna move backwards so it’s off the shelf. Just hold the top in place until I have it right side up again, yea?” I nod dumbly in response before realizing he can’t see me.

“Yeah, got it.” And with that he begins to back up little by little, moving at a pace slow enough for me to consistently adjust. The box is almost intact, but I’ve run out of space from standing behind Harry, and I have to maneuver myself around him whilst keeping the box shut. I cringe before doing what I have to do, and shuffling around the side of Harry’s body, my frontside pressed against him the entire time.

Finally, it’s over and we can set the box down on top of the other two. Harry stands up straight again and dusts off his hands. He adjusts his jeans, pulling them back up his hips, and I have to keep myself from staring once more.

“Anythin’ else I can do for you?”

“I don’t think so? That’s pretty much all the heavy lifting I have to do tonight.” He nods understandingly and… dare I say disappointed? I’m probably just projecting.

“Are you alone tonight?”

“Yeah, my coworker called out, but it’s fine. My boss Kelly got most of the work done earlier when she unpacked a lot of the boxes and folded the shirts into piles, so…”

“I could help.”

“You don’t need to do that. You’re already off and I’m sure you’re exhausted and-”

“I want to.” I guess I wasn’t projecting.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. That way you can go home earlier.” His smile is soft and lopsided until we connect eyes, in which case it brightens to reveal his pearly teeth. I fall shy under his gaze and avert my eyes to the concrete floor below us. My cheeks are radiating at about 1000° and I hope he doesn’t notice.

“Thank you,” I say, more flustered than I would have liked. Why am I getting so nervous? He’s just a retail employee at Zara.

A gorgeous employee at Zara.

“I don’t mind staying back... Spending more time with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Since I already know what you do for a living, what are your hobbies?” He ignores my question.

“I don’t have much time for hobbies. I’m only part-time while I’m in uni.”

“No way, what are you studying?”

I proceed to tell Harry all about my major and my career aspirations post-graduation and post-retail. I enjoy telling people about my dreams and yet, Harry’s the first person I’ve met in a long time that’s shown any interest in me and my dreams. The way he nods attentively despite having to fold misconstrued t-shirts and holiday sweaters, ignites a fire in my stomach that warms my heart. They way he asks hyper specific, prompting questions to learn more about my plans contrasts the fire inside me by sending chills down my spine.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What are your dreams?” Harry stops folding for a moment and exhales a conflicted sigh.

“I’m not too sure at the moment. I’m content at Zara for the moment, and I haven’t decided what’s next. I do write music though.”

“You do?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“What kind of music?” He stops to think again, a bit less conflicted than before.

“It’s like, indie-folk-pop-rock ish.”

“Indie-folk-pop-rock ish?” I can’t contain the laughter spilling from my lips over the mountain of folded t-shirts.

“Yeah. A good bit of variety, really.”

“Well, it’s nice you have something to be passionate about.”

“Judging by how you talked about your dreams for an hour, I wouldn’t say I’m as passionate as you are about your studies.”

“Passion isn’t a competition. It’s what moves you forward as an individual.” It’s Harry’s turn to laugh at me.

“Okay, Gandhi.”

“Hush! I’m allowed to be philosophical.” His laugh draws into a closed-mouth smile, from humor to an adoration of sorts.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” I unintentionally mirror his affectionate smile.

“Promise?”

***

A/N: This was absolutely one of those fics that, the longer I stared at it, the more I hated it and cut it down so here’s what’s remaining before I destroyed the whole thing. It’s def a puff piece and not an in depth fic but nuance is not my friend right now so, sorry about it :(

Taglist: @curlybrownhairedboys​ @meetmeinfleetwood​

[oftenderweapons]

Mold Me New (5) — Kim Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons Story

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Frog — for now)

Wordcount: 5.2k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Smut, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+

Hello to my readers!!! Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe!🥰✨

In this episode: Frog gets to see the final results of her hard work. Taehyung, feeling extremely proud of her, is in the mood for celebation. He invites her for dinner, but eventually the lasagna in the oven is not the only tthing getting hot — and the cheesecake is not the only sweet thing on the menu.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: swearing. mentions of alcohol. smut: making out, grinding, humping, groping (ass, breasts) hair tugging, fingering, very soft overgrown teenagers being inappropriate and horny and tenderly feral on the sofa. Also cramps cause topping ain't easy folks.

A special thank you to @taegularities, my cutest, most adorable, Taehyung stan, The Radiant Rid. I love you, babe. Can't wait to read your next masterpiece 💕

In case you like my writing, here is my directory for idol!AUs, scenarios and imagines. And in case you need it, here’s the Spotify music companion.

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

Enjoy 💜✨

You were falling for Kim Taehyung.

This was by far an undoubtable truth, like the butterflies in your stomach, like the softness of his hair and the plump curve of his lip, like the excruciating, painfully perfect beauty of his face.

He was a gift to humankind, you realised.

You were sure that by now your heart eyes showed in a three-mile radius, and from the way he looked at you in return, you could tell the sentiment was somehow returned.

What made you insecure was his lack of initiative.

You noticed he enjoyed being on the receiving end — which had actually shown a few days before, when he’d fallen asleep in the comfort of your lap, you reading your book while he recovered from the stressful day.

You could still remember the soft golden light coming in through the window, the way his breath got heavy with sleep, his hand laying just an inch above your knee, growing clammy with sweat as he heated up under the blanket. And the feel of his fluffy locks under your fingertips.

He’d looked adorable, a gentle blush on his cheeks, his cherub face relaxing, chubby and plump with the sweet abandon of sleep.

His hands suddenly laid delicately atop yours. “The kiln has cooled up. Would you like to see?” Taehyung asked quietly, trying not to wake you from your reverie too abruptly.

“Oh, yes!” you replied as briefly as possible, hoping he didn’t catch you daydreaming while staring at him with a fond expression.

“Be very careful, they’re hot,” he said, lifting the top of the kiln slowly and letting the remaining hot air come out a bit at a time, without having to feel the heat hit his face.

“Are they going to be good?” you asked curiously. Not all your pieces had made it through bisque firing, and the idea of having something that actually looked like a finished, real work of art was getting you excited. You had been taking lessons for six weeks now and it felt about time to see some results.

“I think I can spot a good one,” he mused as he lifted the lid, bright blue glaze immediately catching your attention.

“Did the bowl survive? The one with the golden swirls? Please, tell me it did, I love it so much!” You felt ready to beg, pray, cry if something had gone wrong.

“It’s on the middle shelf. Be patient, you golden retriever,” he joked, wearing a pair of latex gloves to make sure the temperature was okay without damaging the glaze.

“It was my first to survive bisque, I am invested!” you argued back, peering from over his shoulder, noticing that your vase for Terry had survived.

“Vase accomplished, Frog. You should be excited about that one,” he said, moving it to a shelf. “It means you worked it nicely.”

You shrugged. It was one of your latest pieces, so you weren’t too surprised about it. Still, considering that shaping a vase with consistent walls is a feat in itself, you smirked. “You taught me well.”

“I did,” he replied, lifting a large, low bonsai plate. “Ready to see your bowl, Frog?”

“If anything happened to it, I’m going to kill you.”

Taehyung turned to you, grinning, his nose scrunched in a way that made you sure you would never lift a finger on him.

Your eyes closed: because you were nervous about the bowl, you told yourself — not because you couldn’t stand Taehyung’s expression without pressing your lips to his.

He lifted the shelf from the kiln. He turned to look at you.

He did not resist.

It was like you were waiting for him to kiss you, fist pressed underneath your chin, eyes screwed shut in excitement and fear.

He touched his lips to the apple of your cheek. Your eyes shot open, but the gentleness on his face calmed you. “Congratulations, miss Frog, you have a beautiful blue baby,” he declared in a very medical fashion.

You threw your arms around him, jumping up and down as you giggled hysterically.

“And she cheers for the bowl,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “As if she could mess it up after that vase.”

“Screw the damned vase, show me my baby,” you said, going grabby hands to the kiln.

“No, Frog. Wait,” he said, picking up the piece and bringing it to the table, you in tow like a tail-wadding, restless puppy.

“It’s so pretty,” you mused as soon as he set the bowl down. “It’s so sparkly. So glittery. Taehyung, it’s perfect,” you whispered in awe, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you turned to him.

Fondness overwhelmed him as he saw your amused look, so dreamy and happy and satisfied.

It was your baby. Your special creature. Selfishly, he felt like he had contributed to the creation.

For a second he thought that’s what it must feel like to be a father. “Watch over it while I finish the rest,” he said, taking a step away.

You grabbed his wrist.

He turned, waiting for you to explain.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice emotional.

He twisted his arm in your grip until his hand could reach for yours, engulfing it.

And right in that second, he felt he belonged. Somehow crazily, stupidly, innocently, he felt at home. “Anytime, darling.” He rubbed his thumb against your inner wrist before letting you go. He still had half a kiln to unload.

Bowls and mugs came out easily, some of them even presenting unintended variations that would for sure attract buyers. He felt proud.

But most of all, he wanted to go back to your bowl, to you worshipping it like a little miracle, the poor vase sitting unattended on a high shelf, out of harm’s way.

He closed the lid and took the vase, bringing it to you and placing it on the table.

“You did a very good job, Frog,” he complimented you, placing his hand close to yours, hoping to rekindle the affection he had felt only a few minutes ago.

“It’s not like I did it by myself,” you admitted, beaming up at him.

“Stay for dinner,” he blurted out, “Seokjin brought a cheesecake this morning, I still have half of it. And I have his lasagna in the freezer. We could cook it and eat that — I don’t trust myself making anything edible.”

You snickered. “You don't want me to cook?”

He shook his head. “I wanted to… To celebrate.”

You smiled, standing up, his mouth right before your eyes, “What are we celebrating?”

He looked at your lips as they moved. “The vase,” he replied seriously, although the tone of his voice meant a thousand other things.

“Of course,” you conceded. “Let’s go. I’m hungry,” you confessed, grabbing his hand, tugging at his arm.

Taehyung could swear he was floating a foot off the ground out of happiness. He realised he’d been happier than usual lately; he’d been selling more pieces and his part time job was finally giving him some satisfaction.

He felt like he was drifting across the kitchen as he put his phone in a wooden box as an amplifier, playing an old jazz tune as he put the lasagna in the oven.

You sat at the table, watching him move around with a small smile, your head leaning on your palm. You were such a sucker.

“Wine?”

You shook your head. “You’re gonna get me drunk,” you smiled.

He sat at your side, “why not,” he teased, “just vaguely tipsy. I promise I’ll be a gentleman.” He placed a hand on his heart and bowed his head slowly.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” you murmured, looking down before meeting his eyes again.

He licked his lips. “Who is it, then?”

“Me.”

“What about you?” His fingers skimmed the surface of the table, sliding all the way to your elbow and tracing your inner forearm.

A shiver ran down your spine. “I get clingy. And slightly inappropriate,” you chuckled embarrassedly.

“I could never be bothered by that,” he whispered, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “I bet you’d look so adorable.” His hand opted to cup the back of yours before you slipped your hand away, making his palm touch your cheek instead, your face leaning in. “Which would make you absolutely irresistible,” he admitted, nodding fondly at your display of trust.

“Thank you,” you replied to the compliment, feeling your face heat up.

“Let’s lay the table.”

Let’s lay down and make out for three hours and fall asleep under the stars in the back of a pickup.

You gave your brain a second to calm down. “Sure. How can I help you?”

In twenty minutes, the tasty smell of lasagna began drifting in the air, making your mouth water as you and Taehyung talked about his other job — the one that actually paid the bills and brought food on the table. “I just love them, they’re adorable. I managed to practice when my granny used to babysit.”

You pouted, starry eyed as he talked about the children, going on and on about the five year old that always wanted to curl his hair and paint his nails.

Most of all, you loved the idea of him sitting on a baby chair, all curled up, giant hand sprawled on the table while the girl spread lacquer on his pretty nails.

“Your granny babysat?”

“She raised a few of us, yes, and then she was the babysitter for all the kids of the street,” he explained.

“I thought you grew up with your mom?” you said confusedly.

“Yes, we stayed with my mom until we turned four, but then she went back to her job and we started staying with my grandmother. And when I was ten, my mom started dating a good man. He’s one of the greatest people I know, but unfortunately, he was transferred out of state and my mom decided to go with him. I didn’t want to leave and my granny let me stay with her.”

You nodded, taking in more details about him. “Are you happy about the situation with your mom? Do you miss her?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. But I like seeing her happy. She got married and she’s safe. Her husband spoils her, he takes care of her and he’s well off. She won’t need to worry about her health.”

“That’s a good thing,” you nodded, getting startled once the timer rang.

“Thank God,” he muttered, getting an oven glove as you stepped away quickly.

Dinner was a quiet ordeal, with easy chatting and small pauses. Silence was more than welcome as you slipped into the quiet comfort of sharing a meal. It was all so natural, effortless. And the food was delicious, filling your stomach but also pleasing your tastebuds; Seokjin was famous for his culinary skills, but he really outdid himself with the cheesecake, so creamy and perfectly sweet that you asked for a second serving, Taehyung more than happy to comply.

You kept chatting as you helped him clear the table, washing the dishes while he dried them.

“Last one,” you called, rinsing a plate before passing it to him.

You watched him as he diligently dried it, your gaze meeting his in his peripheral.

You tried to find something to say as his stare focused on you, his hands placing down the plate as he fully turned towards you.

“What?” you murmured hesitantly.

“I might do something stupid,” he said, his voice deep and barely audible, his face getting closer to you. “But I haven’t done it in a very long time.” His hand landed on your waist. “Stop me if you find it outright idiotic.”

There was nothing idiotic in the way his mouth looked so inviting from up close, all its curves too inviting for you to stop staring.

The mole on his lower lip teased you in ways that made you want to throw yourself at him. You couldn’t even understand how the attraction worked, you were simply needy, praying for his mouth to finally meet yours.

“Close your eyes,” he breathed out, trying to find courage.

You followed his suggestion, putting yourself out of misery and standing on your tiptoes before leaning in, finally joining your lips with his.

He didn’t even pretend to keep calm, both arms wrapping around your waist as he held you, delivering a string of small pecks with his lips slightly ajar, offering you the soft plumpness of the inner flesh, vaguely humid and hot.

You loved it.

All you could do was exhale, a tiny cry leaving your throat as your vocal cords caught the breath leaving your lungs. Your hands flew to his hair, hiding in him as embarrassment set you aflame.

A low grunt echoed through his chest as he felt you tug the locks at his nape gently, your body pressing harder against him.

He tried to hold you back, not sure he was ready to admit the carnal way his body reacted to you. He wanted to be gentle, delicate, cautious, but the tightness of his trousers around his crotch was anything but.

“Darling, I need a minute,” he mumbled against your lips in an almost tickling motion.

“Just one more,” you replied, your voice so heated and thin.

He tutted. “Let’s not go too fast.”

You stood straighter and chased his mouth as he tried to retreat, your eyelids lowered as you stared at the sweet, tempting mole.

“Just one…” you whispered before sucking his lower lip, licking it with the tip of your tongue.

His hand moved to your tailbone, pressing you closer. Rational thought abandoned him as he pushed his tongue against the seam of your lips, rubbing it against your palate before letting it tangle with yours.

That’s when you noticed the hardness between your legs, his thigh slotted there comfortably as you pressed your hips to it, eliciting a moan from Taehyung.

“Sofa,” you murmured, trying to hold him to you as you walked backwards to the door.

“Wait,” he breathed out, trying to part from you, causing you to whine.

“Don’t go,” you said with a pout. “I need you,” you almost whimpered, touching his nape, his neck, his chest.

“I’ll be there in a second. Don’t go all cute grumpy on me, I just need to grab my phone,” he explained, unglueing your body from his. Reluctantly made your way to the kitchen door, waiting for him before heading to the sitting room, refusing to let him out of your sight anytime soon.

Once he’d pocketed his phone, he turned towards you, his eyes getting dark and lascivious as he studied your frame while you leaned against the door jamb.

He strolled casually towards you, your eyes following his sinewy limbs.

You realised you were eager to see him naked, the thought making you pause mid-breath.

Once he stood in front of you, his arm slipped between your back and the wooden frame of the door, holding you as he leaned down. “Smartest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“Even smarter if you’re gonna do me,” you quipped, biting your lower lip and cringing once you realised you had said it out loud.

He snickered and kissed you, your hips pushing forward to grind against him, his cock too hard and large for you not to notice it. His hand wrapped around your asscheek, helping you grind even harder, his lean, strong fingers squeezing and kneading your flesh deliciously. Carefully walking towards his destination, he helped you navigate the corridor in a slight penumbra, a thin ray of moonlight slashing the floor before he pushed the door open and entered the sitting room. The space was illuminated in a blue-grey light coming from the full moon shining outside the windows.

Haphazardly, you managed to sit down, pulling him with you, making him lose his balance and stumble a little.

“Are you okay?” you asked, worried about the stupefied look on his face.

“Yeah, just thinking how to…” he fixed his stance, wondering if he should pull you on his lap or make you lay down or…

“Come here,” you murmured, kissing the mole on his cheek. “I’ve got so many kisses to give you.”

“They’re all mine,” he cooed, turning adorable for a second.

You melted. “Yes, now come here, don’t make me beg.”

He turned and leaned into you, cupping your jawline and holding you still before he slipped his tongue across your mouth. “You’re too far like this,” he complained, ignoring the fact that your bodies were literally touching shoulder to ankle.

“Wait.” You quickly bent your legs underneath you, thankful for the no-shoes rule in his house as you sat on your heels. “Like this?” you asked as he mirrored the motion almost too rapidly, his body rocking dangerously.

He immediately realised his trousers were tighter like this. He tried to ignore it, his only goal being for his mouth to meet yours, feeling the hot, milky taste of your tongue that still held some memory of the cheesecake. “Come closer,” he breathed, hoping to get some friction, the softness of your breasts against his torso, crying out at how much he missed the stand-up position, allowing the front of his body to adhere to yours with alarming precision.

“Can’t get any closer,” you chuckled desperately. “Can I lay down?”

He nodded, he needed close.

You untucked your legs from beneath you, bending them at each of his sides. “We can go to my room—”

“I like it here,” you replied, tugging him into you, his eyes shooting open once he’d risked falling from the sofa.

You managed to catch him, thankful for the wide cushions of the seats. “Be careful,” you giggled fondly, kissing his brow, his nose, following his moles like fire flights. The whole night felt magical. It felt even more magical once you managed to get his playlist to play again, placing his phone on the ground and enjoying the round fullness of his backside.

“You really have hands made for pottery,” he mused as he kissed your brow, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your chin, the shell of your ear. “I like them there,” he confessed, pushing his pelvis against yours, meeting it mid-thrust and coaxing a whine from your throat and a growl from his.

One of his arms lifted from beside your head. “Can I?” he asked politely, letting it hover just a few inches over your breast.

“Please do,” you replied, leading his hand with yours, his wrist and fingers immediately catching up on how to grab it, squeeze it, roll it in his palm and toy with the nipple.

“Harder? Softer? Just like this?” he checked in, attentive and concerned.

“Just slightly harder,” you panted. “Slower too, please.”

His pace changed immediately, getting you to whine as you completely connected with his touch. The soft, slow massage was making you hyper-aware of every inch of skin, every single part of your breast, every nerve ending and hard edge and soft curve.

“I wanna take off my bra. Can I?” you asked in the heat of the moment.

Taehyung was vaguely confused for a second, so lost in the feel of you that he barely understood the question. “If you want that, I want that,” he replied, his breath laboured.

Quickly, you arched your back, Taehyung’s lips reaching the column of your throat and peppering it with soft pecks. “Do you need help?”

You tutted and moaned as his teeth scraped your skin lightly.

With some gymnastics, you managed to tug the garment out of your shirt, Taehyung moaning at the increased softness underneath his palm. “Goodness, they’re incredible,” he murmured, pressing his face against one, rubbing it as he turned his head side to side.

“Please, keep touching them,” you mumbled, your voice rough with the way you struggled to breathe.

He changed the arm propping him up, switching sides as he started to tease your other breast. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” you managed to confirm before your hands grabbed his ass to push him against you.

He paused for a second.

“I’m getting out of control,” he warned you.

“And?”

“I’m gonna cum in my pants if we keep this up,” he confessed, purring as you nibbled his jaw. “Slow down, please,” he panted, lifting his hips away from you.

“Tae,” you called, breathing heavily, almost begging him.

“I want you a lot, ____, please tell me you do too,” he was almost feverish with need, his brow furrowed, his beautiful eyes glittering in the dark.

“Isn’t it clear?” you asked in return, trying to chase him on his retreat.

He tutted and pushed you down. “I want to hear it.”

“I want you, Taehyung. I need you. I want to see you lose control.” Your mind was gone, far far away, your brain malfunctioning as his curls tickled your upper chest.

“I don’t wanna go all the way,” he murmured, “I just… I just wanna—” he huffed out frustratedly. “I just want to make you feel good. And to feel you close to me.”

You bit your lip. “Maybe—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to make love to you. I really want to. But this is going so fast and I wanna savour every step. Take my time.” He pressed his forehead against your chest. “I just like you so much and I want you to know it means something to me.” He paused and you waited for him. “I don’t want you to think this is just a random thing to me, and I don’t want to be a random thing to you.”

“You’re not.” You cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “We can take our time—”

“You must think I’m a coward,” he murmured, voice filled with self-hatred.

You held him closer, trying to convey all your affection. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe with me. I get you, baby.” You rubbed the tip of his nose with yours. “Let’s take baby steps. We can just mess around. You want to make me feel good, and I you. No need to have sex to go there.”

He nodded. “I wanna keep touching you,” he murmured. “I wanna feel you with my hands.”

You blinked slowly, eager to feel his fingers on you, inside you. “That sounds great, baby,” you encouraged him, watching his shy smile and the gentle blush on his cheeks, out of exertion and shyness.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” he whispered in your ear before kissing the soft spot underneath it, his free hand moving down, from your breast to your stomach, slipping underneath your shirt, moving up against your naked skin.

You gasped once his palm cupped the underside of your bosom.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “Feels very good,” you answered, caressing his hair out of his face, his eyes moving from your chest to your lips to your eyes.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked, reaching for your nipple with the pad of his thumb.

“Bless you, yes, baby. So good.” It was natural to trace his mouth with your finger, his lips parting to welcome it into his mouth. Your hips arched up, meeting his thigh to grind against him. You needed more pressure against your clit, your entrance clenching and widening as you felt wetness coat your folds uncomfortably. You refused to pressure him into leading his hand downwards, still you thanked several deities when his gentle fingertips started making their way to your belly button, dipping his digit in to study its shape, feeling all the ridges and tender skin. “It feels so cute,” he said after letting your finger out of his mouth, watching as you brushed it against your neck to dry it up. “I wanna make a little sculpture out of it.” He giggled. “Sorry, that’s so childish.” He shook his head.

“It’s adorable,” you replied, “it’s— Mmh, Tae. Yes.” He managed to scatter your thoughts across the universe once his fingers dipped into your jeans.

“Undo the button please,” he growled, reaching for the wet spot on your panties. “Darling dearest, you’re fucking drenched,” he said, a deep cry giving away just how desperate he was. “Can I get in your panties, precious?”

Mouth gaping, you nodded, an embarrassing mewl echoing across the room as he touched a slightly delicate spot. “That’s too sensitive,” you keened, a strangled purr leaving you once your back arched, his thumb relieving the disturbing pressure and wetness.

As slight friction began to build, Taehyung bit his lip, the vision of you so erotic and calming at the same time. It felt right, oh-so-right, to have you underneath him like that — maybe slightly overdressed, but adorably pliant and needy.

“Want them inside, darling?” he asked you, your head nodding yes quickly, without a shred of doubt. “Here, talk to me, sweetheart. Like this?” he murmured, waiting for your feedback.

“Yes,” was all you managed to utter, his digits hitting your sweet spot without even trying. “Rub there, please, stretch me,” you told him, guiding him as your hips started to roll, his thumb meeting your clit and causing a small whimper to exit your mouth before you clamped your lips around his neck.

“You feel amazing, darling. Soft and so hot and so velvety. You’re so dang slippery, it feels insane.” He kissed your head. “Want to make you cum so fast. I want to keep you up for hours like this, and then kiss you until you fall asleep. You’re spectacular, ____. I can’t take my eyes off you, my precious.”

You felt overwhelmed with the way he pushed his fingers inside you, pressing his long, strong, skilled, digits against your walls, stretching you so impossibly wide that you felt like you could probably fit four fingers in to the knuckles. But you didn’t have time to think much, simply arching your hips up and pushing your jeans and panties to your mid-thighs, trying to give him more space for action.

“Is the angle alright?” he checked in, binding his wrist a little lower, getting better leverage to finger you harder.

“Keep going like this,” you exhaled, your hand moving down, fixing his thumb as he struggled to find the right spot, “let me handle this, focus on the inside, please.”

He nodded and kissed your lips. “Sorry.”

You kissed him again. “No need to apologise— Yeah, right… there…” you said, starting to thrust up in earnest. “Clits are complicated but you’re doing so good inside,” you licked your lips, trying to ease the pain of them drying up with your and his breathing.

He bent down and chased the tip of your tongue as you ran it across your mouth, drinking in your soft hiccups and gasps as you neared your climax, his mouth crashing onto yours as you finally came apart underneath him, his kisses muffling your moans and cries.

Taehyung felt desperate as he slipped another finger inside you, giving you as much fullness as he could offer while you clenched around his digits, actually sobbing once you processed his generous offer.

It took you maybe thirty seconds before you could calm down, taking your fingers off your clit, whispering an “okay, slow down” to Taehyung, who halted the arching and pistoning of his fingers to simply press against your g spot and cup your mound with his palm.

“All good?” he asked, grunting a little as his arm cramped up.

“Yeah, are you?” you murmured back, noticing his wince.

“Cramp,” he huffed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Want me on top? You’ve strained yourself already as it is,” you scolded him apprehensively.

He shook his head and withdrew his hand from your crotch, cleaning his fingers with lewd, erotic swipes of his tongue. You felt ready to begin all over again. “I need to be on top,” he said, drying his hand against his t-shirt before propping himself up on both elbows before bending down, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I kinda want to grind on you, if you’re okay with it.”

Nodding, you helped your hips up, fixing your clothes back in place but also leaving your zipper and button open. “Clothes on?”

You felt his head move in an affirmative motion, his hips starting to press against you. “I know I must look like a teenager to you.”

“It’s adorable. Makes me feel very young,” you said before chuckling. “It’s been so long since I felt this good with anyone,” you confessed, holding him to your chest, assisting his motions by moving your own pelvis in a wavy pattern. “It’s so comfortable. So familiar and nice,” you whispered in his ear before biting it gently. “You make me feel like I’m not an utter mess in this attraction thing.”

“You’re not a mess. You just feel attraction differently.” He managed to gather his thoughts and words long enough to reply to you. He thought it was important for you to feel that it was okay, that he didn’t mind, that all he cared about was how happy he felt by your side. “You’re hot, you’re smart. And you’re so…” He grunted as he found the perfect angle and pressure, his high rushing towards him. “So magnetic. And good…” Another purr left his mouth as he started humping you in earnest, going so fast you doubted you would survive having him inside you, his torso crashing on you as he hummed and bit the crook of your neck, crotch attached to your thigh as he pushed, harder and harder, his glutes impossibly tight under your palms.

“Yes, baby. I’m here, Tae. It’s all okay, babe.”

“So good,” he rumbled, still hiding against you. “So, so good,” he moaned again, your face tensing in a kind, elated smile.

“Lay on me, baby,” you kissed the crown of his head. You felt as if you were on cloud nine, and it had little to do with the orgasm and the freaky show. You loved his tenderness, his gentle approach, the way he had checked in on you throughout the whole night, wide puppy eyes staring at you in focus and adoration and wonder. And the way he had asked to take it easy, the way you had felt no pressure, no need to search for attraction, but finding it there, in the way his hands felt familiar and welcome and so, so loving, in his face and his smile and his stupid, stupid, ridiculously fluffy hair. There was attraction and even though you had asked yourself why at the beginning, you didn’t dare doubt it now. It was just like oxygen in your blood, like black holes and shooting stars and the moon phases. Undoubtable. Solid. Proven. Undeniable. It had become a main axiom to your existence.

I’m in love with Kim Taehyung.

It was like the world suddenly spinned the other way around. You let the revelation sink in, your hand running up and down Taehyung’s spine.

“You’re safe with me, babe.”

He nodded and nuzzled in closer. “Are you staying?”

“Yes, sweetie. You’ll be sleeping in my arms tonight, baby.”

You felt him smile against your neck before he found a comfortable position and closed his eyes.

Taglist is open

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

[raelly-writing]

Tiny Big Demands

Silly 5.4-5.5 fluff that’s been lounging in my WIPs folder for several months. There’s some Thancred/WoL at the end but otherwise it’s mainly uh... nutkin shenanigans.

---

“What the Hells Than..red…”

Frowning, Viana rolled over onto her stomach and buried her face into her pillow to shut out the early morning light. Another sharp, nipping sensation at her other ear followed shortly afterwards, rousing her involuntarily further from her sleep.

Her quiet curse was muffled against her pillow as she blindly reached out a hand to find Thancred and hit his shoulder or chest for the unpleasant wake up call.

But all she found was empty air and cold sheets. Immediately, a harsh sense of disappointment cut through her sleep-logged mind.

Right, he’d be far past the Garlean border by now.

Exhaling, she burrowed back into the covers in a sudden bout of moody resignation. As ridiculous as she felt for missing him so sorely, it was a small comfort that the scent of him still lingered on her sheets, even after the days since his departure.

Maybe she should heed the voice at the back of her head that urged her to rise and face the day, but the warmth of her bed was too comfortable. After the hustle of finding a cure for tempering and applying it to the kobolds, nevermind dealing with a new Ascian’s gloating, she was ready to drift back to sleep, if just for a little while longer.

The soft brush of fur against her arm, followed by a familiar, insistent chittering made her crack open an eye to squint against the morning light. Dark eyes stared back at her, a pink nose and long whiskers wiggling in what could only be described as petulant manner as the nutkin squeaked loudly at her.

Viana blinked owlishly, utterly confused at its appearance. Surely she wasn’t missing Thancred so much she was dreaming about his pet. “Why're you…?”

The only answer she got was another series of high pitched noises. Before she knew it, it’d scampered up her shoulder, sharp claws digging into the fabric of her shirt and soft fur teasing the bare skin at the back of her neck. Definitely not a dream then.

“Ow, okay okay, I’m awake, you little monster,” she groaned, and carefully pushed herself up on her elbows.

If she didn’t know better, she could swear the critter sounded victorious as it scurried up over her head before hopping down onto her pillow. It’s big dark eyes stared up at her as it made a big show of rubbing its clearly empty cheeks while fluffing up its tail in an indignant manner.

Viana snorted and slowly sat up.  Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she yawned widely, “How did you even get in here?”

Glancing down at the nutkin, she watched as it stood on its hind legs, squeaking up at her.

“Mhm, well, figures,” she muttered drowsily.  “Now I assume this isn’t just a friendly visit?” It flicked its tail and gave a singular squeak. It would appear that in Thancred’s absence it’d decided that she was best to see to its needs. “Thought as much.”

Sighing, she held out her hand to the nutkin, and it quickly hopped up into her palm, evidently eager to have its demands fulfilled. “Very well then,” she mused as she climbed out of bed. “Let’s see what we can find for you.”

In response she got a series of satisfied squeaks as it excitedly turned in circles in her palm. Though the stone floor was cold beneath her bare feet, she couldn’t bother to find a pair of socks for the short walk - besides, judging by how the nutkin kept chittering while twisting and turning, she doubted such delays would be tolerated to start with.

“Why, I agree, it’s most cruel of him to leave you again so soon.”

Taking her keys from where she kept them on her desk, she left her room and wandered down the empty hallway towards Thancred’s. Well, at least nobody would give her strange looks for walking around in just shorts and a simple top while talking to the small rodent in her hand. “And he didn’t leave you with enough tasty treats?” The nutkin chittered and nuzzled into her thumb when she absentmindedly petted it - a rather abrupt shift from its more aloof behaviour with her in the past, and one that left her feeling oddly manipulated at that. As sneaky and charming as its owner, clearly.

“Just Tataru refilling your bowl with plain seeds and nuts?” she tutted. “How dreadful. You better have a chat with him once he gets back from Garlemald so he knows such things won’t be accepted.”

The nutkin gave a singular high squeak in reply, one paw braced on her ring finger as it peered up at her expectantly. A small smile curled the corner of Viana’s mouth. It really was adorable when it wasn’t driving Krile to the brink of sanity by stashing nuts all around Thancred’s unconscious body.

Or when it decided to demand attention from Thancred just when the two of them were having a private moment.

The moment she unlocked his door and slipped into his room, the nutkin’s attention immediately fixated on one bookshelf in particular.

Her gaze found the familiar wooden box sitting amidst the various books, one she’d seen Thancred retrieve several times. “Suppose you never made a fuss to anyone else before, because nobody else knew where he kept the good treats, hm?”

It squeaked again.

“Well, don’t think I’m going to spoil you just because Thancred’s not here,” she said firmly as she set down the nutkin on his desk, the dark wooden surface being void of any of the document folders and notebooks that usually had occupied its surface since their return from the First.

The nutkin instantly hopped to the edge where it perched atop a discarded book, watching her intently as she took down the simple but sturdy box from the shelf. The heavy lid opened easily on well-oiled hinges and Viana took out approximately the same amount of the big nuts she’d usually seen Thancred retrieve before closing the lid once more.

Before she’d even had a chance to return the box to its place, the nutkin was squeaking excitedly. It stood on its hindlegs, small pink paws already raised as if grasping for its treats.

Viana paused, clicking her tongue. “Such ill manners,” she tutted.

The only response she got was an impatient flick of its fluffed up tail and wiggle of a pink nose as it defiantly stared up at her. It really didn’t have a shred of fear, did it? Sighing, she held out her empty hand and it quickly jumped into her palm, attention honed in on the nuts in her other hand.

But rather than waiting patiently for her to find a bowl for the nuts, it leaned off from the edge of her hand, as if readying to jump.

“Hold on now, no jumping!” Without thinking Viana quickly cupped her hands. A delighted chirp instantly resounded from the nutkin as it surveyed its pile of nuts, then latched onto a particularly big one, twisting and turning it in its hands before starting to gnaw at it.

“My my, one would almost think you’ve had naught to eat for days,” Viana chuckled. Then she looked around, the mirth making way for dismay when she was unable to locate any bowl or other container into which to deposit the hungry critter and its nuts.

Hells, she was too tired for this. With a sigh of resignation, she walked over to Thancred’s reading chair and curled up in it, cold feet tucked beneath her, while careful not to disturb the happily gnawing nutkin that was utterly oblivious to her dilemma.

Viana looked on as it began to make short work of the sturdy shell and dug into its delicious prize within, stuffing it into its cheek for later. “You know, if you’re gonna wake me like this while he’s away,” she drawled, “you could be nice and not interrupt us when he gets back.”

The nutkin paused to look up at her, almost as if it was contemplating her words, before digging back into the next nut.

Huffing out a little laugh, Viana leaned back and closed her eyes. “Well, it was worth a try,” she sighed.

With one thumb she slowly petted the nutkin’s soft fur, earning her another series of happy little noises and the distinct feeling of a nose nuzzling against her hand. Maybe she should just get a box with nuts and seeds and put it in her own room. And a bowl.

It would save her the walk over here every time it decided it wanted some attention.

Yawning, she snuggled back into the chair. Well, she could look into that later today. Before she knew it, the sound of the nutkin happily eating was lulling her back into a light sleep.

---

Thancred carefully set down the sturdy clay bowl on Viana’s nightstand, but the nutkin barely noticed, too busy with digging around amongst the seeds and nuts for its favourites to pay him any heed. For now, at least, he thought as he climbed back into bed.

“Well, I am glad to hear that the two of you got along while I was gone,” he said. “I do apologise though, I did not expect her to bother you.”

Viana made a drowsy noise as she rolled over to rest her head on his shoulder once more. “‘tis fine,” she murmured. “I suppose we did come to an understanding. Even though it required a few early mornings.”

At the sound of her voice the nutkin looked up and squeaked, as if in agreement, before digging back into its meal.

With a soft chuckle, he grasped her hand and - mindful of her shoulder - pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Glad to hear it,” he mused. Why he hadn’t thought of putting a box with the nutkin’s food in her room he wasn’t sure. Unwillingness to intrude on her space, perhaps? Ah, well, she’d taken the step herself.

“Hope this means fewer… interruptions,” she mumbled. Thancred couldn’t help but smile at the sleepy tone of her voice while his chest felt warm and comfortable. Twelve, he’d missed mornings such as this - nutkin interruptions or not - where he just got to treasure her presence. It wasn’t many who got to see the fearsome Warrior of Light in a half-asleep state like this.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” he snorted with a glance at the critter in question.

The only response he got was a muffled hum. Clearly she too was still worn out from the fighting in Pagl’than the day prior.

With a quiet, fond laugh, he brushed his fingers through her hair, prompting her to snuggle closer to him. After giving the nutkin a last pet, Thancred let his eyes fall shut and sleep reclaim him.

[writesowhatnext]

everybody has those days // fred weasley

Summary: A drunken night at Harry and Ginny’s wedding leads to a slightly, very awkward situation with the reader and the bride’s elder brother

Request: nope

A/N: basically I read sunkissed by @ickle-ronniekins​ and I became, as the kids say, thirsty also as I was doing the warnings I realised that I essentially described uni so go figure!!! i don’t know why but this was so difficult to write and I’m like wow am I just losing the ability to form sentences

Reader: female

Warnings: suggestive themes, hangover, drinking, nudity, hickeys, innuendo, swearing, 

A low sound escaped your lips as you shuffled, frowning at the strange weight over your waist. Peeling your eyes open, you winced as rays of bright sunlight leaked through the open curtains. So, you figured, today was almost certainly not going to be a very productive one. You huffed and then blinked slowly, adjusting to the light and letting your eyes focus, a decision you definitely regretted as a familiar face came into view.

Now, you’d recognise Fred Weasley’s face anywhere. Not only was he your best friend’s brother, but he was also half of your bosses and a man you’d been regrettably attracted to for almost seven years. So, as you looked at the slope of his nose and the freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and his brassy red hair, you knew that you had made a decision somewhere along the way the night before with very hefty repercussions. And so, as all rational and mature people do in such a situation, you decided to handle it with a certain level of grace and decorum.

“Oh, fuck.”

You hauled yourself from the bed, your head screaming at the immediate whiplash from your sharp exit. The room spun around you and your knuckles look fit to burst as you clutched at the sheets in your hands, pulling them to your chest. Whether it was your abrupt profanity or the vicious reorganisation of his bedsheets, Fred let out a deep, gruff exclamation and tumbled backwards off the other side of the bed.

For a moment, you were both silent, except for the panting noises of your combined heavy breathing, and you found yourself staring very intently at Fred’s confused expression, trying desperately to remember the night before. Why couldn’t you sleep with and forget someone you hadn’t been pining for years for? Wouldn’t that have been more fun?

“What the bloody hell did you-“ he stopped himself as he looked at you wrapped up in his bedsheets, the skin of your neck and collarbones mottled with dark purplish bruises that he was sure he could almost still taste on his tongue. “Oh.”

He stood up with great difficulty, rubbing his head with his hand, sending his hair into ruffled disarray. You didn’t exactly mean to look down and you also didn’t mean to let out a high-pitched screech at the sight of his manhood.

“You’re naked!”

You looked away quickly, heat flooding your cheeks as he grabbed a pillow, the one you’d just been lying on, and placed it over his junk.

“You’re naked, too!”

Though you hadn’t intended to, his indignant tone made you look at him, and you caught what was left of an embarrassed flush extending from his face, all the way down his neck. You clenched your jaw at the sight.

“Please don’t think about me naked,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut as the throbbing in your forehead returned.

“Sorry, love,” he said. A lopsided grin pulling at his lips despite the edge to his voice, his inner panic rather obvious beneath the surface. “But I think that ship’s already-“

“Fred!” you squeaked, your eyes growing wide. He stayed silent, but his smile didn’t budge, enjoying your flustered expression far too much. “Do you remember what happened?”

You looked at him then, properly this time. He was handsome, but you always knew that, what with his strong jawline and the long slant of his neck. The skin all over his collar and chest was pale and freckled and covered in dark, splotchy hickeys, you realised with a strange warmth flooding your system. You swallowed against the tightness in your throat as your eyes trailed down, taking silent note of the lean muscles of his arms and his toned stomach.

“No, but if the way you’re looking me up and down right now is anything to go by, I think I can take a guess how it started.”

“What- No- You… Fred, you are so irritating,” you spluttered, annoyed that he could get you so riled up so easily. He shot you a lazy grin, the same one you’d seen almost every day since Ginny introduced the two of you. From the day you met, you and Fred had a habit of bickering constantly about nothing and everything all at the same time and you were sure that had you not been a close family friend, you’d have been fired years ago. Thinking of the family for the first time, your face soured as you dreaded to think what their reaction would be if they found out about how you spent your night. They’d probably hate you.

“You’re not too bad yourself, love.”

You shot him a dry look before remembering where you were. “I have to leave. Like right now.”

You didn’t wait for him to reply, too busy searching the ground for your clothes, heat searing under your skin at the haphazard display of them on the floor.

“Hey, wait, hold on,” Fred said, reaching out to you with one arm, holding the pillow with the other. You bit your lip, forcing yourself to focus.

“What?”

“Shouldn’t we…” he voice wavered slightly, a first for Fred. “Shouldn’t we talk about this?”

“This-“ you said, pointing between you and him, your underwear flying around in your grip. “Was a mistake.”

You noticed the way his eyes lingered on your hand and huffed, reaching down the get the rest of your clothes, searching for your dignity whilst you were down there. He probably only wanted a shag and whilst that would be totally fine for someone else, you just couldn’t do that. Not with your history. Not with your feelings.

“But-“

You didn’t give him the chance to speak as you shot up sharply.

“Turn around then!”

His brown eyes turned dry as he tilted his head, a silent sarcastic question on his lips. Your frown deepened and he sighed, turning around dutifully. You rushed to put your clothes from the night before on, struggling to keep your balance, especially when your eyes stalled on his bare bum.

“You better be looking at my arse,” he said, his signature smirk loud in his voice. You couldn’t even try to respond, returning to your dressing with new-found haste.

That had been a week and a half ago and you were still avoiding a proper conversation with him. You’d talk, of course, you worked together, you had to, but it was always just courtesy, small talk, and then that deafening silence Fred hated so much. He missed the easy banter you had and more than anything, he missed you. It all just felt so wrong and he couldn’t help but feel that he’d messed everything up somehow. And so, if you asked him, that’s why he was stood there, hiding behind boxes of sweets stacked neatly on a row of shelves and watching you refill the massive tub of love potions. He felt like a creep, but he hadn’t formed the right sentences or backbone required to talk to you yet. And so, as you emptied the box in your hand and made to fetch another from the backroom, he went to follow you, stopped only by a familiar waistcoat, or rather the man wearing it.

“You alright there, Fred?” George asked, the smile in his voice more than evident as he looked down at his crouching brother.

“Just peachy, cheers, George.”

“So, you’re just stalking Y/N for fun then, yeah?”

Fred glared up at his brother, sighing and standing up under his expectant stare.

“What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing,” Fred said far too quickly. He cursed his defensiveness and groaned. Instinctively, he knew you wouldn’t have told anyone; you said it was a mistake, he reminded himself, earning a familiar sinking feeling at the memory. And so, he’d avoided mentioning it to anyone either, even George, who was now staring at him with a very suspicious scowl.

“Fine,” Fred huffed, rubbing his face with his hands. “At Ginny’s wedding we uh- we-“

Well, he didn’t really remember, did he? He knew on a base level what must’ve happened, but you’d both been so pissed and-

“You shagged.”

“How the bloody hell do you know that?”

George’s laughter only served to further Fred’s indignance. “You two disappeared at midnight, fawning over each other like lovesick teenagers… it doesn’t take a lot to connect those dots, Freddie.”

Fred’s expression soured. “So, everybody knows, then.”

“Afraid so. Mum’s chuffed, obviously, thinks it means you’ll finally get together. With you pair, it was inevitable, though. Especially with that industrial-strength Romanian firewhiskey Charlie smuggled in.”

Fred groaned at the memory, gripped the shelf in front of him so hard his knuckles turned white.

“It’s ruined everything, George. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

George laughed again.

“What’s so bloody funny?”

“You’ve both been mad for each other since fourth year and you think a quick screw is gonna change that? We’ve been placing bets on you for years.”

“You what?”

“You’re so bloody oblivious, the pair of you, honestly.”

“I don’t-“ Fred huffed, immediately dismissing the idea that you would fancy him in any way. There was no chance. “I don’t understand.”

George, helpful as ever, just shook his head, chuckling as Fred rested his forehead on his hands. Neither of them spoke for a moment, but when someone cleared their throat next to him, he sighed.

“George, I’m-“

He stopped short when he saw you, with your arms cross and eyebrows raised. You were clearly unhappy with him. It was hard for him to care though when his words caught in his throat at the sight of you.

“You’re not George.”

“Why are you spying on me?”

“I’m not-“

“Fred.”

“I am Fred, actually.”

Your vaguely threatening expression made him rethink his approach.

“I’m not spying on you,” he insisted, throwing his hands up. “I’m just watching… closely.”

You rolled your eyes. As you looked at him properly for the first time since the incident, a strange feeling stirred in your chest. He was the same Fred he had been before; the same handsome features and the same five-steps-ahead ingenuity behind his eyes, but somehow it was all different. A very bad different. You sighed, turning to go back to your restocking when his hand caught your wrist. You frowned, your eyes trailing from his hand to his face, studying his almost surprised expression.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” he said, his eyes oddly sincere. You swallowed. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes-“

“I’ll say-“

“Can you not just listen to me?”

“Not when you’re acting so strange!”

“I’m acting strange? You’re the one that’s barely said a bloody word to me since we-“

“Fred!”

“Oh, give off,” he huffed, finally letting go of your arm. “George already knows.”

“You told him?”

“The whole family knows! Apparently, love, we aren’t as subtle as we think.”

You groaned, leaning back against the cash register and sliding down it until you hit the floor, rocking your head back against the wood.

“Is it really that bad?” he asked, pausing a moment before sitting next to you, your shoulders almost touching. You rubbed your eyes with your hands, thinking about Ginny’s reaction when she found out. It was a surprise she didn’t hate you already.

“It’s not the same for you, Fred. This is your family, it’s fine for you. But I’m just this girl that’s friends with your sister and probably should’ve been fired ages ago and they probably think I’m a right slag-“

He barked a laugh, his head tipping back and smacking against the register loudly. Had you not have found his consequent pout annoyingly adorable; you probably would’ve been able to keep your frustrated tone without a smile tugging at your lips.

“What is so funny about that?”

“Well, I mean, you don’t need to be worried about that, do you? You’ve always been a slag,” he said, laughing at your offended expression as you smacked his arm, unable to contain your own laughter.

“You’re such a cheeky git.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N, you were never just some girl. You’ve been a part of this family since you were fourteen.”

You didn’t say anything at that, not even when you felt his eyes carefully inspecting your side profile.

“And it wasn’t a mistake for me,” he said, softer this time. “It’s actually been a very long time coming.”

You sighed, drawing your knees up to your chest and biting your lip.

“It wasn’t for me either.”

It wasn’t until his knee hit against yours that you mustered up the courage to look at him, floored slightly by the sheer amount of emotion in his eyes.

“So, what now?” you whispered, raising an eyebrow. It felt foreign to be so vulnerable with Fred, but you found that you didn’t hate it as much as you thought you would.

“Well,” he said, pulling back his sleeve to look at the time. “We’ve got about twenty minutes till we open and an empty cupboard about,” he squinted. “Thirty feet away.”

You wanted to be mad at him; that was always your go-to emotion with Fred, but as you watched him grin with his bright eyes and his tongue between his teeth, all you felt was a familiar fondness for this stupid, obnoxious, annoying man. And even as you stood up and let him pull you to the broom closet, you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad about that either.

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator​

@decadentwastelandtrash

@loveisblindness​

@xinyourdreamsx​

@brainlesspasta​

@hariosborn​

@staringmoony​

@rexorangecouny​

@ickle-ronniekins​ 

@harrysweasleys​ 

@alittletoomanyobsessions​

[decayedflower]

Stranger II

⋆ gif is mine

Pairing: Yang Hongwon x Reader

Genre: Underground rapper!Hongwon, Barista!Reader | angst, fluff

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: Don’t get attached. This was his number one rule. Attachment means getting hurt. Attachment means vulnerability. You are the only person you can trust. So how could she so easily sneak past and break the walls he had worked so hard to build around his heart when all she is, is a stranger?

Warnings: cussing, some angst, hamin being a noodle

A/N: Sorry this took forever to upload, life happens ya know? Next chapter should be more exciting as the ball gets rolling. Hope you guys enjoy :)

You told yourself that no matter how in love you were with someone, you could detach yourself from your emotions enough so that—should the day come—you could live your life without them.

Looking at yourself now, you admit you’re a little ashamed. You couldn’t stop bawling your eyes out for 2 weeks straight. You guess you didn’t do as good a job ‘detaching’ as you thought you did.

You mentally slap yourself. You once lived your life without him bitch, you can do it again. 

It was on a rainy Monday afternoon that you found yourself in bed—cheeto dust on your titties—marathon watching Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok-Joo. Curse Nam Joohyuk. How could a man be so goddamn perfect? He was handsome, funny, loving—and most certainly not a CHEATER. 

You sigh and decide that you should probably get up and shower before Hyeri comes home and sees your miserable state. You feel bad worrying her so much. She’s always been way too kind and selfless for her own good.

You grab a fresh set of pj’s and determinedly head to the bathroom. The least you could do was stop moping and try to clear your thoughts of him. For both your sakes.

Just as you finish that thought, you catch sight of the item sitting on top of your dresser. Your favorite hoodie. His hoodie. You scowl and toss it into the trash bin. If only all men were like Nam Joohyuk. The world would be a much more peaceful place.

“Sooo, hey.”

“Yeah?”

“You know how Princess Peach is always getting her ass kidnapped?”

You laugh at the odd question. “I do recall the kidnapping of the Princess Peach ass, yes.”

“Well, it just hit me. Why doesn’t the bitch ever fight back? I mean,” Jin places a hand on his hip thoughtfully, “how is it that she manages to get kidnapped by the same dude every single time? She’s a princess. Shouldn’t she have high level security?”

“Huh. I never really thought about that.”

“How could you not! She has marshmallows for bodyguards. It’s outrageous.”

“Does it really matter?” you ask.

He sounds genuinely offended. “Of course it does. You ever see Daisy getting kidnapped?”

“Well, no but—“

“Besides, isn’t it a little ridiculous how there’s this expectation that Mario has to save her? I mean, he’s not even a prince or a knight, he’s a plumber! An italian plumber! The amount of disrespect is just astronomical considering the lengths he goes to—”

“Seokjin why are we talking about this?” You ask, baffled. You take a look at your workstation and head to the stockroom to get more large size cups. Jin trails behind you, obviously upset with your lack of interest in the conversation.

 “It’s a legitimate concern, Y/N. Someone needs to pay attention to these details and it is the duty of I, the consumer, to voice the—whoa whoa whoa, since when do we have oatmeal raisin cookies?!” He screeches mid-rant, staring at a pack of cookies he holds in his hand.

You whip around to have a look, not believing your ears. “What the fuck?”

It’s true. The box of oatmeal raisin cookies sits atop the third shelf, right next to the double chocolate chip cookies.

“The boss sent an email out on Sunday,” Yoongi stands at the doorway holding a box of promotional flyers. If it were possible, you swear tumbleweed would have made its way between the three of you with the silence that follows as you and Jin stare at each other blankly.

“Which,” Yoongi drawls out, “I guess neither of you read.” he states dryly, walking away.

“Who the hell likes oatmeal raisin?” Jin asks defensively. Personally, you couldn’t agree more. Oatmeal cookies on their own were tolerable—it was the raisin part that completely ruined the entire cookie.

“They’re Satan’s spawn,” he scowls, tossing the aforementioned cookie back in the box as if it had personally insulted him. You chuckle and shake your head, walking back to your station with the box of plastic cups.

You start stocking them back up on the counter, making sure it looks neat. 

“Hey Jin,” Yoongi calls out from the front of the store, “can you grab that window marker and write out the menu again? The rain washed some of it off.” He says, examining the missing bits of letters, nose scrunched in annoyance.

You could practically hear the way the older boy starts seething at Yoongi’s lack of use in honorifics. The tips of his ears flare a bright red, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“I’M SORRY, COME AGAIN?! I couldn’t hear you over the DISRESPECT.”

Seokjin takes great pride in being the oldest of the crew. He enjoys taking care of the others as if they were of his own blood, you included. He has a somewhat sarcastic sense of humor—but never overbearingly so—always exaggerating his facial expressions and reactions, which you personally find charming. Seokjin is also infamous for his constant dad jokes, the younger ones usually cringing at their cheesiness and have you bending over in laughter. (The other boys beg you to stop egging him on as it only fuels his desire to keep them going.) That being said, Jin is not someone who gets easily irritated. When it comes to certain things, he is just, well, a bit of a drama queen.

You stifle a laugh, watching as Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose, a heavy sigh leaving his mouth, very obviously regretting his choice of words. “Hyung, will you please go rewrite the menu outside?”

“Thank you! Can’t you just do that from the get go? I swear you kids are so ungrateful sometimes. I mean, you all seem to forget how I practically raised you brats—”

“Hyung, please get your ass outside or so help me I will go into that break room right now, clock out, take the longest nap of my damn life and just leave you two out here to die.” 

“Alright, alright,” he says, putting his hand up, “I’m going geez. What a drama queen.” He huffs his way to the entrance, shaking his head, marker in hand. “And you guys say I’m the dramatic one.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

Yoongi stands there looking up at the ceiling with his hands on both hips as if silently asking the heavens for a tiny shred of patience.

You snicker behind your hand. You swear hearing those two bicker is your daily source of serotonin. 

It’s 3 more hours into your shift when Hamin shows up at the front counter with his signature soft boy smile.

He first visited the cafe during the summer one day back when you had just been hired. The intense summer heat wave had him coming in search of some shelter from the sun and a drink to cool off. The Grind was promoting the seasonal summer drinks and naturally, as a new hire, you tried your best to advertise it. It was only your second day on the job and in your nervous state you sold him a drink that, to just your luck, wasn’t available that day. You apologized profusely afraid that he would turn out to be a Karen, but Hamin had been very sweet about it. He befriended you after that, making frequent visits to the Grind, declaring that he had found a hidden gem.

After talking to him some more you learned that Hamin had studied psychology for two years at a local college before he decided to drop out and pursue his musical career. Of course he didn’t tell you that last part up until a couple of weeks ago, so you had been under the impression that the reason he spent so many hours at the coffee shop was to study for his exams. You weren’t the type of person to pry into someone’s personal life unless they decided to tell you themselves so you never asked. Ever since Hongwon confessed to you that both he and Hamin were working towards becoming musicians, Hamin began to share more about himself to you. He figured that now that the cat was out of the bag, he could be more open with you. Prior to that day, you knew very little about Hamin’s personal life.

“Hey you! You’re back,” you beam. 

“Yeah, gotta grind,” he pats his bag for emphasis. “Ha! Grind...” he snorts suddenly. “Get it? Cause we’re at...” he gestures to the shop and laughs to himself. He looks goofy standing there in his bright lavender tie dye hoodie, a big contrast to the muted colors of the walls. His tall lean form stands out like a sore thumb. An Adidas baseball cap adorns his head but it’s so washed out you can’t even tell what color it is—or is supposed to be. 

You laugh, shaking your head.

“Oh come on, it was funny,” he says, leaning on the counter.

“It was funny the first couple times Jin said it when I just started working here,” You correct.

“You still laughed though,” he winks at you, making you laugh again. “Anyway,” he straightens up, “Can I get the usual, please?”

You grab a cup and start writing his name. “Just you this time?” 

“Nah, my idiot friend is coming but he’s gonna run late so I’ll just order ahead of him.” He sighs, reaching into his pocket in search of his wallet. “How much is it?” He asks, fumbling through a bunch of receipts and cards.

You wave him off. “On the house.”

“No way, I can—”

“Hamin, dude, relax. You do this every time. I keep telling you, discount: friend. Total: zero.” 

“You gotta let me pay every now and then. I don’t want your coworkers to think I keep coming here to leech off you…”

“Look, if you were really taking advantage of me, you wouldn’t keep disappearing on me for weeks at a time. Consider it an advance payment for when you finally let me hear a song of yours. ”

“Sorry…” He smiles sheepishly, “It’s a deal then. Thanks Y/N, you’re the best,” he grins. You flip your hair dramatically, playing along.

You make his drink and note that work is slow enough, so you head over to his table instead of calling him over.

You place his drink on the table, “so what’re you working on today?” He looks up and thanks you, taking a sip before he answers.

“A solo project. I don’t have anything now that’s worth listening to though…” He says dejectedly. Admittedly, he’s been going though somewhat of a writer's block. 

“That’s okay! I didn’t mean to pressure you. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be glad to give it a listen if you’re still willing to let me. Good music also takes time, right?” You smile encouragingly.

Someone yells out your name before he’s able to respond. You turn at the sound, “Oh hey!” you exclaim when you see your roommate. You turn back to wish Hamin luck on his writing.

“Thanks for the lunch, Hyeri,” you pat your stuffed tummy in satisfaction. “I forgot to prep mine last night so I was honestly just gonna wait until I got home to eat,” you confess meekly.

She showed up during your shift planning to ask you what kind of food you were in the mood for so she could bring it to you, but Yoongi caught on and sent you on your lunch break so the two of you could eat together instead. Min Yoongi was a godsend. 

“I knew it! Y/N, you have to eat your meals! Do you know how detrimental it is to your health if you’re constantly working and skipping your meals?!” you cower as she scolds you. 

“I know…sorry. I just forgot...” you squeak.

“Ugh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice, I just worry about you,” she sighs, taking her seat again.

“And I’m so thankful!” you say quickly placing your hand on hers, “I’m sorry you’re always having to take care of me. I’ll work harder so that I don’t become a burden to you. I promise. I haven’t been myself these days but...just give me some time.”

She grabs your hand with both of hers, “Hey. You’re never a burden to me, Y/N. You’re like a sister to me. And I would never put your emotions against you. You need time to heal and that’s okay. Take it at your pace. I will always look after you, no matter what. Okay?”

Your heart warms at her words. You were so grateful to have her for a best friend. You engulf her in a hug and look at the time. 

“I should head back. My break is just about over. Thank you for everything, Hyeri. Are you staying? I’ll make you a drink. On the house. You can study there?” you ask.

“Well, I was planning on going to my school’s library, but I guess I could use a drink…” She paused for a moment. “Is Jungkook working today?” She asks, hopeful. 

Her crush on your coworker was so amusing. “Unfortunately for you, not today, sorry.” She pouts cutely.

“I’ll make you a green matcha latte?”

“Pretty please.”

You giggle, “Okay, let’s head back then.” 

It was a good thing the two of you decided to eat at the chinese restaurant across the shop, so the walk isn’t long. You came here so often that the kind elderly woman who owned the restaurant had memorized your order. You couldn’t help it that their sweet and sour chicken was bomb as hell. What you would give for that recipe.

You’re internally groaning at the thought of having to go back into work when Hyeri stops in front of the entrance and lets out a low whistle. 

“Whoa, hey. Which one of your coworkers drives a damn motorcycle?!” She points to a sleek, graphite motorcycle parked on the curb, two cars away from yours. 

“Whoa. Uhh...no one, not that I’m aware of. Jin drives a Honda Civic and Yoongi ubers cause of car issues.” You shrug, opening the door. “Must be a customer’s.”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s just me, but that thing is screaming big dick energy.” She says, following behind you. You laugh and smack her shoulder. 

“You say that but what if it’s some old bald dude that listens to metal?” You ask, leading her to a table farther in the back so she can study peacefully. 

“Well err...hopefully not. I’m just saying whoever rides that thing, I wouldn’t mind riding too. Hell, I could ride all night…” she trails off. You bury your embarrassed face in your hands and try to hold in your laughter so you don’t disturb the customers. 

“Oh my god. Stop talking. You’re gonna get me in trouble.” You point at a chair, “Sit here and I’ll bring your drink. Behave,” you warn playfully.

“Yes ma'am,” She winks and points shooter fingers at you. You laugh with a roll of your eyes, heading back to clock in. 

“You seem...distracted.” Hamin says, amusement lacing his words.

“Huh?” Hongwon turns at the accusation with wide eyes.

He sighs. “I mean,” he says crossing his arms, “ever since you got here 15 minutes ago, it’s like you keep looking around for...something.”

“So, you’re saying for the past 15 minutes you’ve been watching me like a creep?” He turns his attention back to the music software in front of him. “I told you I don’t swing that way.” he says, clicking random notes on the half-finished project.

Hamin snorts. “Don’t change the subject. What‘s got you so distracted dude?” He asks, slurping up the remains of his drink through his straw.

“The only distraction here is the eggplant sitting in front of me...” He trails off when you enter the coffee shop with your friend in tow. You’re laughing, giving her a smack on the shoulder playfully at a joke she tells you.

Hamin stops his obnoxious slurping when he follows his friend’s gaze. “Ohhhhh!” he grins.

“What?” He snaps. “No ohhhh. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now.”

“I’m not thinking anything.” Hamin brings his hands up defensively. “Brain empty. No thoughts.” He taps the side of his head with his index finger. “Buuuttt if you were so interested you could’ve just asked, you know.”

“And what would I have asked exactly?” He asks with a tinge of annoyance.

Hamin tsks under his breath, exasperated. “Oh come on. I mean Y/N. You wanted to know if she was working. Am I right or am I right?”

“Why the hell would I wanna know that? I don’t even know her. ”

“Hongwon!” He’s caught off guard at the sound of your voice. He internally slams his own head against the table and forces a smile when you approach the table, avoiding Hamin’s gaze.

“Y/N, hey…”

“Hold on, you know each other already?” Hamin asks obnoxiously, “I only briefly mentioned you to him, but you already know his name!” Hongwon shoots daggers at the side of his head.

“Actually,” Hongwon says through gritted teeth, “we talked for a bit when I was on my way out the other day. It would have been rude of me to not introduce myself since she’s your friend.”

“He was even kind enough to walk with me on the way home even though it was raining. Thanks for that by the way, you really didn’t have to do that.”  Hamin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Shit. The smile you give him is so sincere that he almost misses what you say completely.

“Really!” Hamin grins, clearly enjoying the situation. He pats his shorter friend’s head in mock endearment. “That’s so sweet of him! I mean, considering he lives in a completely opposite di—” Hongwon sends a swift kick to his shin underneath the table.

“Fuck!” Hamin rubs the spot and laughs through the gritted teeth. “I mean...that’s sweet of him considering he’s normally so shy.” He growls at Hongwon and plasters a smile when he looks back at you. You probably think they’re both lunatics.

“Right…” You laugh, unsure of what’s happening. “By the way, did you want a drink? I’ll make it for you.” You tell Hongwon.

“Oh, uh yeah I was just gonna get an americano. Let me just—” He starts to stand up and take out some cash when you stop him.

“Are you sure that’s okay?” He asks. “I don’t want to get you in trouble…”

“Don’t worry, I get free drinks and pastries since I work here.” You say.

“And she shares them with me because I’m her favorite customer. Right, Y/N?” Hamin wiggles his eyebrows at you. You laugh and pick up his empty cup.

“Is he always this much of a moron when he comes here?” Hongwon asks, scrunching his face in distaste. You laugh and ask them to wait while you bring them coffee. 

Hamin waits until you’re completely out of ear shot before he begins his interrogation. 

“You know, for a pair of strangers, you two seem very well acquainted.” He states, eyes narrowed.

Hongwon scoffs. “You know, I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this but somehow you have a really punchable face.”

“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you’re a terrible liar.”

“Oh shut up. I didn’t lie. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think I needed to.”

“‘I don’t even know her,’” Hamin mimics.

“I don’t know her. I know her name, that’s it. Not the same thing.”

“So you like her.”

He laughs. “What are you, five? How could I like her? I just met her, idiot.”

“You walked her home.” He says pointedly.

“Part way. I only did it because it was getting late and she’s your friend.”

“Ha! Since when do you care about my friends?”

“She’s a girl, it’s different. If something happened to her because I looked the other way, it’d be on my conscience.”

“You live in completely opposite directions.”

“So what?”

“You wouldn’t even do that for me.” Hamin deadpans.

“Yeah but you’re not a cute girl.” He shrugs, crossing his arms.

“So you think she’s cute!” He slams both hands onto the table, leaning forward to peer into Hongwon’s face accusingly. 

“So what? She is cute.” He shoves him away, “that doesn’t mean I like her.”

“Hmm. Okay.” Hamin smirks and leans back in his seat.

“What?” He snaps.

“Nothing,” He says with a look on his face that screams everything but nothing.

Hongwon drags his hands over his face. “You really piss me off, you know that?”

“You may have mentioned that before,” he replies, appearing unbothered.

He’s lucky you decide to come back at that moment. He swears he’d have slapped the smile off his face had he been left alone with Hamin for a minute longer.

You set down the coffee and start to walk back to the counter. “Well, I shouldn’t bother you guys too much so I’ll leave you to it.”

“Wait, Y/N!” Hamin shifts in his seat to face you. “Are you busy Friday?” This puts Hongwon on alert.

 “Hmmm...no, I don’t think I have anything going on actually. Why what’s up?”

“You’ve been wanting to hear some of our music for a while now, right? Well,” he loops an arm around Hongwon’s shoulder, “guess who has a gig that night?”

“No way!” You squeal, covering your mouth with both hands. “Wait, but I thought you didn’t have any music that’s finished.” You frown.

“Well, it’s not that we don’t, I just kinda wanted you to hear our new stuff first. But now that I think about it, this is as good a time as any. If you’re interested, a friend of ours is hosting a party and he asked a couple of artists to play for him. It’s at the Henz Club.” 

“You mean that scary looking club in Mapo-gu?”

“Scary? I mean sure, some odd looking people hang around there, but they’re all pretty chill for the most part. Right Hongwon?” 

Hongwon slaps his arm away. “Right. Well, you’re welcome to come but you don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.” He supplies. “We’d understand if—oof!”

“Nonsense!” Hamin butts in, shoving his elbow into Hongwon’s side. “You can bring your friend over there if you want, so you don’t have to worry about being alone.” He motions his head in the direction of Hyeri who—not so discreetly—pretends like she hasn’t been trying to make out what the three of you have been talking about for the past 10 minutes.

“Ah, but either way we won’t ditch you after the performance, I promise. How about it?”

Hongwon is still recovering from having the wind knocked out of his lungs and before he knows it, somehow you’re agreeing and Hamin is giving you the details. 

“I’m so excited, I can’t wait to hear you guys.” You say cheerfully. 

“You should see this guy on stage,” Hamin gestures to Hongwon, “he really puts on a show. Like a true rockstar.”

 “You know, you saying that doesn’t make me feel good,” Hongwon says with a frown, sitting back in his chair defeatedly. 

 “Oh and don’t be surprised if you hear a lot of screaming.” He ignores him, “There’s always a lot of fangirls, especially for Hongwon. They literally come in swarms, it's crazy.”

“Oh my god. Stop. You’re so embarrassing.” He groans, looking away.

“Wow, you’re really hyping him up,” you laugh.

“Ignore him. He’s just saying whatever the hell he wants.” 

“No way, it’s really the truth.” He insists, folding his arms across his chest.

“Y/N! We need you in the back!” Yoongi calls out, his head poking out from the staff only door. 

“I gotta go. I guess I’ll see you guys on Friday!” You say, waving. “Coming!” You call out, following after your coworker.

Hamin smiles stupidly as you leave. “Isn’t she sweet!”

Hamin and Hongwon hang around at the café for a few more hours until they decide to grab a bite to eat. For the remainder of the time they spent working on their music, Hongwon had not uttered a single word. The most Hamin had gotten out of him was a “sure” when he suggested they get burgers before heading home.

He exits his car, watching as Hongwon removes his helmet to fix the mess it makes of his hair. 

Sighing deeply, Hamin leans against the side of his car, hitting the park button on his remote. “Come on, don’t be so cold. How long are you gonna give me the silent treatment for?” 

He slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans, dreading to ask but needing to know. “Are you really that pissed off because I invited her?”

Hongwon slips the hollow side of his helmet onto the handlebar and mimics Hamin, leaning against his motorcycle. “Depends,” he says, taking out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket to light one up, “why’d you invite her?”

Hamin considers his answer carefully, shifting his weight onto the other leg. It’s obvious that Hongwon is already upset, so anything he says will probably get him angry anyway. “I was hoping maybe you guys could hit off,” he says at last, deciding to be honest.

In truth, Hongwon isn’t surprised to hear this—he actually suspected it—but it still pisses him off nonetheless. It wasn’t the first time Hamin tried setting him up with someone. He wasn’t looking for a relationship. This was something he had told him countless times and yet, he continues to pull stunts like this.

“I know you said you aren’t looking for a relationship,” Hamin continues when he proceeds to bring the cigarette to his lips without a reply, “but I just think you could at least talk to her and—“

“And then what? We fall in love, get married and ride off into the sunset?” He cuts him off abruptly.

“No, I just—“ he starts to say but stops when he can’t think of how to word it correctly.

“I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking Y/N went through a bad breakup, and so did I. You think maybe the two of us can find the comfort we couldn’t find with our previous relationships, in each other.” He pauses to take a drag of his cigarette. 

“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but that's a load of shit. This idea you have that love can just make me forget about all my trauma, is a load of shit.” Hamin flinches at the sudden aggression in his tone. This really didn’t come across the way he intended it to.

“Guess what, I’m fucked up Hamin!” He continues, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. “I have too many damn issues and I don’t need some chick to try to figure me out or fix me. I told you already, I’m happy with the way things are. I’m not gonna play into your stupid games just because you want to play fuckin’ cupid.” Hongwon scowls, taking another drag of his cigarette.

Hamin keeps his gaze on the ground, frustrated with how easily and accurately Hongwon is able to guess what he’s thinking. He didn’t realize how terrible it all sounded out loud. He racks his brain for something—anything—to say and argue that those aren’t his intentions, but Hongwon is speaking again before he’s able to do so successfully. 

“I don’t care if you invite her. Just don’t go expecting anything out of me.”

He nods his head weakly. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, bro…” He says scratching his neck, “I’m not trying to find someone to fix you...” he trails off.

“It’s cool.” He sniffles, the cold air getting to him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap like that.”

Hamin is taken aback for a second, not expecting him to apologize. He kicks the floor with his sneaker, “S’cool.”

“You still hungry?” Hamin asks, afraid that their little spat would create unnecessary tension between them.

Hongwon tosses his cigarette onto the floor to put it out with his sneaker. “Fuckin’ starving.”

You went home together with Hyeri later that afternoon once your shift was over. It was always nice to go home when the sun was setting and the air felt cooler. You loved how quiet the city got, allowing you to simply be one with your thoughts. 

Unfortunately for you, today was not one of those days.

You release a sigh as you continue to pretend to not notice Hyeri’s constant fidgeting. “Hyeri, if you want to know so badly just ask already.”

She releases a giant breath as if she had been holding it this entire time. “Oh thank goodness because I felt like I was actually going to die if you didn’t say something soon,” she says grabbing your arm excitedly, like a puppy who was just called over by its owner. 

“What were you doing with those two hotties I’ve never seen before?” You couldn’t tell what made her more excited―the fact that she found them so attractive or the fact that you were talking to men other than your coworkers. “Is one of them single?” she stops walking and gasps, “Are they both single?!”

An older lady walking her Chihuahua gives you a scornful look as she passes the two of you and you bring your finger to your lips to shush Hyeri. “Sorry,” she says with a giggle, “but this is huge!”

You pull her along with you to cross the short crosswalk and to the steps of your apartment complex, “It’s not a big deal. Besides, you’ve seen Hamin before.” You say, slipping your house key into the lock and opening the door.

“Okay but, this time there was another guy too. And you guys talked for like 20 minutes! On your shift!” She says, removing her shoes quickly to stand in front of you excitedly. You stop untying your shoelaces to give her a look.

“He’s a friend I made through Hamin. Who is also just my friend,” You tell her slowly as if you were explaining it to a child but you can tell by her smile that she’s not listening. You sigh and slip your work shoes off, putting them in the hallway closet. Hyeri hovers behind you, not wanting to be too pushy but also too worked up to leave you alone.

You stand up straight and turn around. “Okay fine. Hamin invited me to this party,” this already has Hyeri clasping her hands over mouth, “he and his friend are playing a gig for a friend—”

She’s squealing and jumping around before you can finish your sentence. “And they want you there as their plus one! Oh my—”

“But I think Hamin knows about the breakup and he feels bad and that’s why he invited me,” you say quickly. Hyeri stops mid spin to give you an incredulous look. “I mean, they kind of saw the whole thing since it happened at work,” you say glumly.

Hyeri wraps her arms around you when she sees how you deflate at the reminder. “Hey, don’t make such a sad face. You guys have been friends for a while now, right? I haven’t met the guy but I’m sure he invited you because he wants you there and not because he pities you.”

“Sorry. I think I’ve been trying too hard not to think about it so all the negative thoughts are really hitting me now,” you say, resting your head on her shoulder. She always had such a comforting mom warmth to her.

She releases you and gives you a comforting smile. “Do you want to go?”

“Well,” you sit on your bed exhausted, “I actually didn’t know Hamin played music until recently. I’ve really been wanting to hear some of his stuff and apparently his friend does music too..”

“Girl, there’s your answer! Who says you have to spend your days sad and alone after a breakup? If you want to go, go.” She encourages you. She had a point. Although somewhere in the back of your mind, you felt guilty. When Hamin invited you, you were super stoked and set on going but now that you were really thinking about it, you couldn’t help but think of Jaewon.

“I can tell you’re overthinking this,” Hyeri says. “Don’t. You’re a free woman! Free from a man who took advantage of you and didn’t know how to treasure you. Do whatever the fuck you want because it’s no one’s business. It’s not like you’re planning to go sleep around.” She crosses her arms across her chest, “and even if you are guess what, it’s still no one’s business.” She says vehemently.

You pick at your nails and bite your lip. “Okay.”

“Okay?!”

“Yeah, I’ll go.”

She squeals again and launches herself onto you. You land with an oof on your bed, her head barely missing yours by an arm hair. “Oh, one more thing though,” you manage to say from beneath her. “They kind of invited you too.”

Hyeri lifts herself up at this. She stares at you with wide eyes, “what do you mean?”

“I guess they saw us talking together and figured we were friends. Also, they caught you trying to eavesdrop on our conversation.” You tell her.

“Nooooooooooo,” she cries and runs to throw herself onto her bed face flat.

“It was the hiding behind an upside down textbook for me,” you snicker.

“Y/N, please I’m in the middle of dying of embarrassment.”

[leelysian]

Changbin as your older brother AU 💖✨

genre: fluff, bullet point fic

word count: 2.3k

warnings: swearing

Disclaimer: I do not personally know Changbin. This work is purely fiction and my own idea. I took inspiration from his on screen persona. Please do not translate or re-upload my work.

A/N: hi :) Sorry if this is kinda bad. I’m running out of ideas for this series(?). It’s really hard to write these aus for the members when there’s limited knowledge about them and when you’re trying to make everything seem different without making it seem like they’re all one dimensional and cut from the same cloth. Thank you to everyone who has been reading these older brother aus and thank you for being patient. Please leave some feedback, it really keeps me going. ❤️

☆ Let’s start with you as babies.

☆ Changbin would for sure as kiddy questions like “How did the baby get inside mummy’s tummy?” “When will baby come out?” “How does baby poop?”

☆ Your parents either answered him vaguely or somehow dodged his questions.

☆ Would sleep in your parents bedroom close to your mum to protect her baby bump.

☆ Would be hella excited to feel you kick in your mum’s tummy.

☆ Would say cute things to the baby bump. “Come out quickly baby I can’t wait to play with you.” “We can play with *insert favourite toy* together.” “We’re going to have a lot of fun together.” I am close to tears

☆ Doesn’t care about the gender.

☆ When you were born, he was extremely excited to see you but little Binnie patiently waited till your parents had their moment first until they ushered him to the hospital bed.

☆ He was wide eyed as he held you as if scared to hurt you. He smiled when he stroked your cheek with a finger and smiled wider when you grabbed onto his finger.

☆ CUDDLES, CUDDLES AAAAAAAND MORE CUDDLES

☆ Tried to help your parents take care of you but most of the time failed.

☆ *tries to put pants on you* *gets kicked in the face instead*

☆ The only thing he could properly do was cuddle you as he fed you a bottle and somehow you ate properly if he was the one feeding you when you were being fussy.

☆ *you two fall asleep while he’s holding you*

☆ Adoring/curious stares.

☆ Fed you a bit of lemon for jokes when you were starting to grow teeth and had the time of his fricking life when he saw your reaction.

☆ I’m talking the kind of laughs he does with his whole body.

☆ Helped you learn how to walk patiently. Just laughed when you fell on your butt.

☆ Taught you how to high 5 at a very young age.

☆ You talked to him a lot. Not like he understood what you said because it was mostly babbling but it was fun for both of you.

☆ You broke a lot of his toys. He’d get upset until he got new ones.

☆ The one toy he never shared with you was Gyu, his plushie.

☆ Fast forward you’re older and know how to walk and talk coherently, Changbin is a kid.

☆ Changbin wants cookies but they’re on the top shelf and your mum purposefully put them there so neither of you could reach.

☆ “Changbin what are you doing?” 

☆ Changbin: 👀

☆”I’m gonna tell mum~”

☆ “NO DON’T. If you help me, I’ll give you a cookie then you have to promise me you won’t tell mum.”

☆ Your smart ass contemplated for a few seconds before you agreed, “Ok what do we do?”

☆ “If I lift you up can you grab the jar? Don’t drop it.”

☆ “Yes.”

☆ Somehow both of you managed to retrieve the jar unscathed. Why none of you thought to grab a chair and do it, I don’t know.

☆ One cookie turned to two then three until the jar was half empty and your dad caught you. 

☆ Everyone except you two with crumbs around your mouths in the room:️  

👁️👄👁️

☆ Your dad walked in with brooding eyes. He grabbed a cookie and started eating quietly, “It’s a secret.”

☆ All three of you smiled happily and continued munching on the cookies.

☆ Until a while later your mum walked in and gasped, “YOU ATE ALL THE COOKIES?! *insert dad’s name* YOU WERE IN ON THIS TOO!”

☆ The three of you gulped nervously until you said, “No mum look! We saved a few for you!” The three of you smile innocently.

☆ Your mum sighed and smiled exasperatedly. “This is the last time.” A chorus of agreement sang throughout the room yet nobody meant a single word.

☆ Most of the time you two were hyperactive and played around so much you’d be knocked out cold by the time it was around 9 pm. 

☆ Your parents had to lug you to your shared room.

☆ You two played tag a lot, he was really fast so you’d always get tagged very quickly.

☆ HIDE AND SEEK

☆ Running. So much running. You’re the hyper kids.

☆ Rock paper scissors. Winner flicks the loser’s forehead. Changbin always took the penalty but never really doled it out on you, if he did it wasn’t too hard. 

☆ Races. “LAST ONE IS A ROTTEN EGG!” 

☆ Changbin could easily win, but sometimes he slowed down purposefully to let you win for a change.

☆ Giggles. Giggles everywhere. Giggles all the time.

☆ Pillow forts in your room. 

☆ Tickle fights.

☆ Cuddling together while watching cartoons.

☆ You thought he was cool.

☆ He liked you thinking so highly of him.

☆ Made him want to be even cooler for you.

☆ He’d ruffle your hair playfully.

☆ He’d pinch your nose. “AAAAHHH”

☆ He’d pull your hair.

☆ PIGGY BACK RIDES!!!!!!!!!

☆ Such a joker. It was harmless fun.

☆ Once you doodled on his school notes. He got mad and stopped talking to you.

☆ He rarely got angry at you, sure you two bickered sometimes and sometimes got whiny at each other.

☆ You apologised with a treat you got, instead of eating it by yourself, you gave it to him as a peace offering. 

☆ He didn’t eat it himself, he shared. “It’s okay just don’t do it again. These are important. You’ll know when you get older.”

☆ “Ok. I’m sorry.”

☆ Things became alright again.

☆ Fast forward you’re tweens/teens/young adults.

☆ The dynamic is wild.

☆ You two would always goof around like idiots.

☆ Changbin annoyed you a lot.

☆ “Y/N look over there!” you’re stuck in visible confusion. *smacks your head and runs* 

☆ “CHANGBIN!”

☆ You’re eating chips. “Y/n what’s that?” “What’s what?” *steals bag* 

☆ “When are you gonna stop tricking me?”

☆ “When are you gonna stop falling for that?” 

☆ You get pissed.

☆ Then it escalates into a wrestling match until ultimately you get hurt and start nearly crying in pain.

☆ “FUCK! SHIT SHIT SHIT I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY HERE YOU CAN HIT ME BACK. PLEASE DON’T TELL MUM! PLEASE STOP CRYING!” 

☆ You’re watching tv peacefully. Changbin walks in with a nerf gun/water gun. “REACH FOR THE SKY!”

☆ The living room turns into a warzone or a set for mission impossible.

☆ You ‘borrow’ his clothes. “Y/N STOP STEALING MY SHIT!”

☆ He ‘borrows’ your charger. “GET YOUR OWN CHARGER CHANGBIN!”

☆ He casually strolls into the living room, sits next to you with feet propped up on the table, snatches the remote when you’re not looking and changes the channel. 

☆ “HEY I WAS WATCHING THAT!”

☆ “Well too bad. I don’t wanna watch it.”

☆ “GIMME THE REMOTE!” “No :}”

☆ Another wrestling match for the remote.

☆ You hide his glasses. Basically keep them with you.

☆ “Hey y/n have you seen my glasses?” “Nope.”

☆ He looks EVERYWHERE. 

☆ You keep them on top of the tv when he’s away. “Hey Changbin found it on the tv.”

☆ “That’s weird I don’t remember putting them there. The heck?”

☆ “Maybe you’re just losing your mind. Already becoming an oldie?”

☆ “I may be old but I can still kick your ass.”

☆ You’re the younger sibling that either grows up to the same height as him quicker or grows taller than him somehow.

☆ He hates it. You thrive on it. “Hehe shortie. Can you even reach?”

☆ So he started working out to tone up.

☆ You’re barely able to lift a heavy box. He picks it up with ease. “Do you even lift?”

☆ He’s washing the dishes. You leave your dish for him and sneak out. “Y/N! I SWEAR-”

☆ You have a lit music taste because of him. 

☆ You’re sleeping, he’s up early. You need to go to school. Instead of waking you up like a normal person, he pulls the blankets completely off of you and tackles you. “Y/N WAKE UP!”

☆ “CHANGBIN YOU CRAZY BASTARD! DO YOU WANNA DIE?!”

☆ You two are eating. He’ll finish eating seemingly at the speed of light and stare at you eating. “I’m not sharing.”

☆ “I didn’t say anything.”

☆ awkward silence

☆ You pass your food to him. “You owe me, pabbit (pig + rabbit)”

☆ Both of you forget about it later on.

☆ He’s hella clumsy.

☆ He’d definitely break a glass or plate or vase.

☆ He’s the type to fix something just enough to make it seem not broken so the next person who uses it would think they broke it.

☆ Anything to not get his ass handed to him by mummy dearest.

☆ You do this thing to annoy him which is basically mock/copy him when he tells you something. 

☆ “Hey you know-” “Hey you know-” “you know that-” “you know that-” this continues a few more times until he screams and tackles you.

☆ You did this thing where you literally jumped on his back when he was unaware and you'd stick to him. The scream was worth bursting your eardrums. Worked every time.

☆ He was built he could carry you.

☆ Another thing is copying his actions.

☆ He yawns, you yawn. He scratches his nose, you copy. He stretches, you stretch. He shifts, you copy. 

☆ “STOP COPYING ME!” “Stop copying me” “I said STOP COPYING ME!” “I said stop copying me!”

☆ “I hate you.” “I love you too bro.”

☆ His friends like you and a lot of times you hang out with him and his friends.

☆ He wears the weirdest stuff just for shits and giggles.

☆ “Hey y/n.” “What?” you look at him and burst out laughing.

☆ Where he got a shark head mask, you had no idea. You had tears running down your face as he started to sing and sexy dance to baby shark.

☆ “STOP I’M GONNA PEE!”

☆ You two say the darndest things.

☆ “I just realised- if vampires can’t go out in the sunlight then wouldn’t the moonlight kill them too?

☆ “How?”

☆ “Moonlight is just the sunlight shining from behind the moon dumbass.”

☆ “Oh shit you’re right.”

☆ Another example of this would be:

☆ “The hospital is the only place you leave without entering.”

☆ Both of you:  👁️👄👁️

☆ You’re eating watermelon. You bite some of the white bit.

☆ “I just realised the worst part of the watermelon tastes like a cucumber.”

☆ awkward silence “wait you’re right.”

☆ “Anyways, here you can wash the plates.”

☆ “Y/N!”

☆ AEGYO FLUFFY GOODNESS

☆ Will use everything in his cuteness arsenal to get what he wants.

☆ You hate to admit it actually works sometimes.

☆ “Y/n~ pleeeaaaseee get me some cookies.”

☆ “No.”

☆ He keeps whining and rocking or shaking you. “PLEEEEAAAAAASEEE”

☆ “FINE!”

☆ Who’s really the older sibling and who’s really the younger sibling?

☆ “You know you could’ve just gotten them yourself with the time it took you to annoy me into getting them for you?”

☆ He just smiles toothily. 

☆ “If you could choose between a giant me or 5 mini me’s which would you choose?”

☆ “Neither I’d rather die.”

☆ “Y/N! WHYYYYY” he whines and shakes you.

☆ He’s always there for you when you need him the most. He’ll always comfort you with tight hugs. 

☆ He’s the type of person to make silly jokes and make you smile or laugh to make you feel better instead of sort of brooding with you.

☆ This is only acceptable with him, if anyone else tried to be goofy when you were upset it wouldn’t work.

☆ Because it’s Changbin’s thing. Only he has that power.

☆ You rarely see him upset. He’s always smiling, joking around and acting cute.

☆ One time, really late at night you saw him in the kitchen sitting with a glass of milk. He hadn’t noticed you. 

☆ This was off putting because you rarely saw him this quiet. He’s always laughing and loud.

☆ He was staring off in the distance, the glass gathering condensation from being out of the fridge and into warm temperature.

☆ “Can’t sleep?” He was startled and shook his head no. “What’s on your mind?”

☆ “It’s nothing.” You sat with a glass of water. “You know you can tell me, right?”

☆ “I know I just don’t wanna bother you.” he said and this confused you. “Why would you be bothering me? That’s absurd.”

☆ He shrugged, “I dunno, seems like all I do is annoy people these days.”

☆ You pat his back. “Hey, that’s not true. Well it only applies to me because you’re my sibling. That’s a thing. Is there anything specific you’re talking about?”

☆ He stays quiet for what seems like the longest time until he unloads. 

☆ You’re not good with words like he is. You try your best to listen and give sensible input. 

☆ Changbin admired that about you. Despite being younger, you were sometimes mature and understanding. You were authentic, you never tried to be something you weren’t.

☆ Which is why he always valued your words. 

☆ Afterwards if he had anything on his mind, sometimes he’d vent to you.

☆ You the ability to make his insecurities disappear simply because he feels stupid for the way he thinks when he talks to you. 

☆ You make his problems miniscule, not in a belittling way but in a way that makes him realise how things could be different or done differently.

☆ Your sense of perception was something amazing.

☆ This is why Changbin believed you were the best sibling he could ask for.

☆ But little did he know, you wouldn’t be able to function properly if he wasn’t the goofy, silly, clumsy, idiotic Changbin who exists today.

☆ He’s just the right type of flavour you need in your bland life.

☆ don’t be shy put some more.

☆ He’s the right balance of a clown, a baby and a guardian angel.

☆ He’s extremely caring, loyal, kind hearted and annoying.

☆ You’d change absolutely nothing.

[hopelikethemoon]

Mr. Mom (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Mr. Mom Rating: PG-13 Length: 2800 Warnings: Mild Angst, but mostly FLUFF. Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Javier POV set in late March 1997. My Javier muse is yelling at me for the title of this chapter. It’ll make sense. Shoutout to @absurdthirst​ for this one and tomorrow’s.  Summary: Javier goes to the grocery store.

Taglist:  @grapemama  @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow@hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501@fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim@amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper@awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @longitud-de-onda @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll​

“What’s his name, daddy?” Josie questioned as she held up the stuffed dog that Javier had given her to occupy her interests while he tried to shop for groceries. If she didn’t have something to do she was prone to ask a million questions about everything he bought. 

The first trip to the grocery store had not been a success. He was used to going alone or having both of them there to play interference with her. 

“Let me see.” Javier said as he took the toy from her, he flipped open the red heart ear tag, “Doby. Doby the Doberman.” He passed the toy back to her. “If you behave for me, I’ll let you take him home.” 

“Did you know mommy wants a puppy? I can give it to her!” She cheered a little, pretending to walk the dog along the handle. 

He chuckled. “Ah, she’s gotten to you as well.” 

Javier couldn’t blame her. She was stuck at home all day while he was at the university. Josie was a handful to keep entertained, but she had to be lonely. He’d never known her to just sit around and do nothing and now she had to. 

Shit. 

He still remembered how despondent she had been in the short period of time after she’d been let go by the DEA. Numb. That was the best way to describe her. She hadn’t really snapped out of it until Danny’s wedding. 

Javier pushed the cart down the aisle, eyeing the shelves as he looked for some of their favorite easy-to-make meals. He didn’t want her having to stress about what she was going to make them for lunch or dinner. He didn’t want her to stress at all. 

That guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders. 

“Do you like Spaghetti-O's, JoJo?” Javier questioned, brushing his fingers over her hair to get her attention.

She looked up, scrunching her nose as she looked at the cans to her left. “Dinosaurs!” Josie squealed as she spotted the set of cans that had a dinosaur on them. “Daddy, please!” She stuck out her bottom lip. 

“I hear you.” He assured her, reaching down to pick up a couple cans. “You’re going to eat all of these and spare your mother having to make you mac and cheese for lunch every day.” 

“Okay!” She clapped, before her attention went back to the toy. “Doby says he loves you, daddy.” 

“Does he now?”

She nodded empathically. 

“Well tell him I love him too, princesa.” He smiled adoringly at her, before he started pushing the cart further down the aisle. Javier paused, grabbing a few cans of diced tomatoes off the shelf. 

“No licey beans.” Josie warned him.

“I’m not getting lima beans, Josie.” He assured her, even as he put two cans in the cart. She hated almost all things bean-related if they were green. It was a problem. 

“Okay daddy.” She smiled at him before she started whispering to the stuffed animal. “He’s gonna get them still, Doby.” 

Javier rolled his eyes and started further down the cart. She had certainly acquired her mother’s keen sense of observation. Did that mean the next one would be more like him? Saints preserve the kid that ended up like him. 

He grabbed two boxes of donuts off the end of an aisle as he made his way towards the cold food section to grab a few pizzas. They could just throw them in the oven and make them without much fuss. And she could always reheat the leftovers for lunch the next day. 

“Oh, Javier!”

Fuck. 

He recognized that shrill tone from dance class. Could he not have one moment of peace?

“It’s Miss Missy!” Josie pointed, rather dramatically, before lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper for Doby. “Mommy doesn’t like her.” 

“Josie.” Javier gave her a warning look and she scrunched up her nose. 

“Sorry daddy!” 

“Look at you, playing Mr. Mom.” Missy remarked as she approached his cart. He noted the way she put a little extra sway in her step. Ever since it had been pointed out to him that the mother’s at ballet had it out for him, he noticed how they often acted around him. Well, most of the time, otherwise he tried to avoid them.

Javier arched a brow, “I’m fairly certain I’m just being a father.” He opened the freezer door up, grabbing a box of pizza bites out. He hated when people made comments like that. Or that he was ‘babysitting’ his own kid. “How are you, Missy?” He questioned, realizing that the woman had no intention of leaving yet. 

“Oh, you know... “ She offered with an attempt at a charming grin. “We’ve missed seeing Josie at ballet.” Missy looked at him then, looking him up and down. “And more importantly, we’ve missed seeing you.” 

“Yeah,” Javier shrugged a shoulder. “We’ve had a lot going on with the move and everything.” He tried to move the cart forward, but she had a rather tight grip on the side of the cart. 

“How is the new house? Coconut Grove, right?”

He nodded stiffly. “It’s great. We’re excited about finally having a place that’s our own.” 

Missy tossed her hair over her shoulder, before looking around cautiously. “I heard about what you are going through at the university and I just wanted to let you know that I… understand.” She tilted her head and smiled sweetly. “And it’s okay… it’s not like the two of you are married. If you ever need to blow off steam—”

How dare she. 

“This conversation is over.” He snapped, pushing the cart forward with enough force that Missy had to let go of it. 

“Javier, wait! I didn’t mean any offense by it. Really. I was just trying to commiserate with you.” 

“Commiserate.” He exhaled heavily, fingers gripping at the cart handle until they turned white. “Look.” He started with a sharp tone, turning around to face the woman. “The woman I love is laid up in bed with a high-risk pregnancy right now… and you’re going to stand here — in front of my daughter, mind you — and say this shit? You’ve got some fucking nerve lady.” 

“Swear jar!” Josie called out, before descending into giggles.

It was hard not to laugh at Josie. She was rather committed to the bit she and her mother had started. 

But Javier was pissed off and not in the mood. 

“Don’t get me wrong… It really is sad, what she’s going through.” Missy offered with little to no actual sympathy. “Which is why I would understand… if the stress got to you.” 

He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, rocking his jaw. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Javier shook his head. “You live in a glasshouse, don’t you? Judging my relationship because we aren’t married. When you and the other bitc— mothers are married and trying to get in my pants. Don’t speak to me again.”

Missy opened and closed her mouth twice, before she took a step backwards. “Oh. I’m…”

“I don’t want to hear it.” He snarled, before he turned back to Josie and attempted to compose himself. “Tell Miss Missy bye.” Javier told her, brushing his fingers over her curls. 

“I’m okay.” Josie shrugged, her attention solely focused on Doby. 

 ———

 “We’re home!” Javier called out as he pushed the door open, letting Josie in ahead of him as he hauled the grocery bags into the house. It was still surreal to come home — to a place that didn’t have a flight of stairs or a parking lot filled with other people. To a house with a “Welcome Home” mat out front and a mailbox.

“I’m watching Romeo + Juliet. Don’t interrupt.” She called out from the family room, but Josie was already on her way to interrupt. 

“I got a dog!”

“That is a stuffed animal.”

Josie blew a raspberry. “I got him for you.” 

Javier laughed as he listened to the conversation, heading into the kitchen. 

“You got him for me?”

“Uh-hu.” Josie answered. “He will keep you safe while you’re in bed.” 

“That’s very sweet of you, sweetheart.” 

Javier sat the groceries down before he looked around the corner into the family room. “How are you feeling?” 

Josie was showering her in kisses, via Doby. 

“I’ve been better. I had a headache for a little while.” She offered a faint smile, pulling Josie onto her lap. “I think it’s the Lamictal.” 

“I’m sorry.” Javier wished there was something he could do to help her. The most he could do was handle things with Josie when he was home. At least they had Monica to help when she wasn’t in class, but he knew she was still under a lot of stress. 

“Did you get me Poptarts?”

“Yeah, you want one?”

She smiled at him, “Two, please.” 

“Is she an angel?” Josie questioned, pointing at the tv screen. 

“No.” She answered, kissing the top of her head. “Her name’s Juliet.” 

“Who’s he?”

“That’s Romeo.”

“Romeo-Sphagettio.” Josie giggled, flopping onto the sofa beside her mother. “We saw Miss Missy at the store.”

Javier folded his arms across his chest and frowned. “I owe the swear jar a few quarters.”

“Three.” 

She laughed, looking between the two of them. “What the heck happened?”

He shrugged. “Apparently the rumor has got around at ballet. I’m honestly surprised the DEA hasn’t cooked up a story that I’m sleeping with one of them.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Missy was running her mouth and I went off on her. Enough said.” 

“Oh, Javi.” She laughed softly, settling back on the sofa with a sigh. “Put up the groceries, make me a Poptart, and come join me.” 

“So bossy.” Javier arched a brow at her. “Maybe I will take Missy up on her offer.” He would never.

“Are you trying to stress me out?” She stuck out her bottom lip, doing her best attempt at a pout. 

“I think Josie could teach you a thing or two about that look.” Javier chuckled, pushing off the wall and heading back into the kitchen. He enjoyed listening to Josie asking her mother a dozen questions about the movie, while he put up the groceries. 

Josie was out like a light by the time he finished putting everything up in the kitchen. 

“I’ll put her to bed,” He whispered, passing her the plate of Poptarts before he picked Josie up carefully. She snuffled as she woke up, but she was quick to fall back to sleep when he tucked her in.

“How’s your Poptart, baby?” Javier questioned as he headed back out into the family room. 

“Exactly what I wanted.” She grinned at him. He loved the fact that a smile like that could still make his heart skip a beat. “And you remembered that I like the ones without icing.” 

Javier leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, before he collapsed onto the sofa beside her. He dragged his hand over his face and down his neck as he sighed. “We’ve got to find her a new dance studio.” 

She gave him a look, “What did you say?”

“Not nearly enough. If I hadn’t had Josie…” He shook his head. “I’m glad you’re not like them.” 

“I could be.” She teased, giving him a look. “I’ve tried to look elsewhere, but…. for some reason I’m really attracted to you.” 

Javier glared at her. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s hilarious.” 

“Is it?” He arched a brow.

She shrugged, popping the last of her Poptart into her mouth. “I think it is. I mean… we both had a bit of a reputation back in Colombia.” 

He grumbled, “I don’t want to talk about Colombia.” 

“I’m just saying…” She narrowed her eyes at him, before gesturing at the tv. “Sometimes you meet someone you’re willing to throw it all away from.”

Javier looked at the screen. “Aren’t they like thirteen?” He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “And they fucking die.” 

“You know exactly what I’m saying.” She moved in closer to him, resting her cheek against his shoulder, wedging her arm in between his back and the sofa cushion. “I knew what I was doing, Javi…” She whispered. “I’m just as guilty in this as you are… stop letting the guilt eat at you.” 

“It’s hard.” He admitted quietly, swallowing the lump in the back of his throat. 

“I know it is. But at this rate you will be grey when our daughter is born.” She told him, reaching up to brush her fingers through his hair. “We can’t both have high blood pressure.”

“I can’t lose you, baby.” 

“And I can’t lose you.” She kissed his cheek. “So quit worrying.” She traced her finger up his nose, pressing her fingertip against the line between his brows. “This could be the Mariana Trench.”

“You’re so weird.” He gave her leg a squeeze, before he looked under the pillow for the remote. “Let’s finish watching this. It’s due back tomorrow.” 

“I wish there was a way we could just watch these on the TV.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, like… a channel just to watch whatever movie you wanted to watch.” 

Javier huffed. “There’d be too many channels.” 

“Look, I’m spending a lot of time watching movies. I have ideas.” She rolled her eyes, chewing on her bottom lip. “Can you pick up From Dusk Til Dawn and Desperado tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll look for them. Balto for Josie, right?”

“Yep.” She grabbed one of the sofa pillows and rested it on his lap, before she settled down lengthwise and rested her head on it. “I hate being stuck at home—”

“Baby.” 

“— but this is nice.” 

He smiled as he brushed his fingers through her hair. “I wish I could be here more often.” 

“Someone’s gotta pay the mortgage.” She pointed out. “Ow.” She winced a little, readjusting how she was laying on her side. “Your daughter is kicking again.” 

“Yeah?” Javier grinned as he looked down to where she was rubbing her stomach. “May I?”

“Of course you can.” She grinned up at him, though it was tinged with a slight look of discomfort. 

He reached down and rubbed his hand over her side, before he slid it around to rest against her stomach. It took a moment before he felt the fluttering movement of the baby beneath his palm. 

“She's quite the kicker.”

“It’s hard to stay seated all day when she's kicking at my bladder.”

Javier played with her hair. “You’ll have me all weekend… except when I have lesson planning for next week.”

“I’m really okay.” She promised him. “And it’s nice having Monica to help. I made her unpack my clothes.” 

“Yeah?” Javier questioned, half-heartedly watching the movie. 

“It’s going to take me forever to get back in shape.” She complained quietly, resting her hand on her stomach. “I feel bigger than I was with Josie.”

“Remember what the doctor mentioned.”

“I know.” She sighed. 

“Baby, you’re perfect just like this.” He promised her. “And you'll be perfect after.”

She huffed and laughed. “You just like having proof that you got me knocked up twice.”

Javier chuckled, brushing his fingers over her temple. “Isn’t that what the kids are for?”

“Touché.” She rubbed at her forehead. 

“Headache?”

“A little. I’m fine.” She sighed heavily, staring at the TV. “Do you think she’ll look like Josie?”

“Who?”

“The puppy. Obviously, I’m talking about Sofía.” She reached for his hand, bringing it to her lips to kiss her palm. ��Speaking of which… I’d prefer a mature dog.”

“You really want one don’t you?”

“I almost adopted one in Colombia.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “It was when I was with Lance. He was super great about it, not being a dog person, but ultimately he drove home the idea that I’d probably have to leave them behind if I ever went back to the states.”

“Are you trying to guilt me into getting you a dog?”

“They’re great for stress relief.” She rolled onto her back, looking up at him. “And we’ve got a fenced in backyard.” 

“Maybe.”

“We could get Monica to watch Josie.” She suggested. “The shelter is open on the weekends.”

“Are you sure it won’t add to your stress?”

“That’s why we should get an older dog. They might be more settled with the change.” She smiled hopefully. “We can name the dog Steve and torture him.”

“I like the way you think.” Javier smirked, leaning down to kiss her lips gently. “They’re not sleeping in our bed.”

“Famous last words.”

He rolled his eyes. 

How the hell had he become this man so easily? Colombia either felt like a lifetime ago or just yesterday. But it was still hard to fathom how naturally this life had been built up around him. 

He was a man with a badass partner, a daughter and another on the way. They had the house with a yard and no white picket fences in sight. A Jeep Grand Cherokee parked in the driveway that had stickers baked onto the inside of the back windows. 

And now… he’d been convinced to get a family dog. 

Everything he’d once run from. 

Now he couldn’t stand the mere thought of losing it. Of losing her. 

[m4st4rd]

the sugar bowl

author’s note: hello friends! the wonderful @guaxinimraccoon has let me use their equally wonderful characters, Brad, Toby, and Siri, to write a fic! please go check them out-- their art is super awesome. i ended up writing a lot more than i expected, but i still love it! this was super fun to make and i’m excited to see what you guys think :). enjoy!

warnings: mild panic & mild swearing but that’s about it

word count: 2.4k

part one | part two 

 “TOBY? ARE YOU READY?”

   After a fitful sleep, Tobias could barely stand to listen to the noise around him. It wasn’t much: the water rushing through the pipes, the skitter of the mice outside his home in the walls. And now, Siri tugging on his leg as he struggled to relax on his hacky-sack chair. 

   “C’mon, man,” she said, huffing a laugh. “You promised you’d grab some more paper and bread like, yesterday. And that you would get sugar.” Toby didn’t know why she even had the time to pick up a hobby as boring as drawing. There wasn’t much to draw in their little home. He’d rather just try and continue his eventful dream instead of getting dressed just for some scraps.

   But he had to. It was his duty as a borrower and as Siri’s best friend. 

   “Alright, alright.” He got to his feet and ran his hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “But this means you’re making dinner tonight, right?” Before she could protest, he added, “Better start cooking that soup now.”

   Siri put on a pouty glare, but her pointed ears twitched with amusement. “Yeah. Whatever,” she mumbled. But she couldn’t keep her face up long. Soon, it disappeared into a grin. He wasn’t prepared when she threw her arms around his neck in an excited hug. “You’re the best, Toby.”

   Tobias couldn’t stop himself from smiling, too. “Yeah. I know.”

   She waved as he disappeared down the corridor. Neither of them could’ve known what was waiting for him.

***

   Ever since Brad moved out of his parents’ place, he knew only one thing: solitary. Not that he necessarily minded — he wasn’t the most extroverted person. Even in college, he would stay in his dorm with a pizza and Netflix while his roommate hit frat parties. In the two years they lived together, they must’ve only spoken a total of eleven words to each other. 

   But what he did mind was the endless, repetitive schedule. Wake up, check his phone. Have breakfast, take a shower, brush his teeth, pop an aspirin for his morning headache. Head to work and return to boxed mac-n-cheese dinner (or, if he was feeling adventurous, spaghetti). He wanted something exciting, even if excitement, for him, meant taking a different route to work. But he was too afraid of change.

   What he found on Saturday evening really threw a wrench into the gears of his brain.

   He got home to an empty apartment. Nothing special: a hand-me-down couch next in front of a 90s TV. He contemplated just napping on the couch for a bit before dinner, but he never did that. So instead, Brad took off his shoes, hung up his coat, and headed to the kitchen. There was some leftover tuna salad that he could munch on if he didn’t feel like cooking.

   Nothing special. 

   That is, until he stood up. 

   He probably wouldn’t have heard it if he was distracted, but it was real and oh-so-soft. A rustle from deep inside his cabinet. Brad could feel his heart stop. Did he have mice? No, that couldn’t be. He cleaned out his cupboard pretty frequently. Bugs? That would be even worse. 

   Shff. There it was again. It sounded too… heavy to be a roach. Whatever the little thing was, it rattled his cereal boxes. And then, the telltale clatter of the sugar bowl top falling onto the shelf. 

   Wait, what? Okay. That was weird. Brad took a deep breath. His interest had piqued. He had to see what this thing was.

   With a silent prayer, he opened the cabinet. 

***

   Paper? Check. Bread? Check. Toby was still dusting his knees off as he remembered that he was still missing something: sugar. With a groan, he got to his feet and shuffled over to his hook. “Damn Siri and her sweet tooth,” he muttered (though he’d never admit to her that he enjoyed something sweet every now and then).

   He didn’t notice the front door open and the giant enter. He was distracted by the looming jar in front of him. It was difficult getting the lid off, but with a sharp tug and a grunt, it fell to the floor of the cabinet and he prepared to dive in to get a cube. 

   But before he could get very far, the cabinet door swung open, and light invaded. 

   And Toby was face-to-face with the human of the apartment.

   Brad wasn’t sure what he was looking at. A little man…? A four-inch-tall person, not much bigger than his finger, was standing by his sugar bowl. Pointed ears, wild, electric blue hair, and even wilder eyes stared him down. A patchy bag sat at his feet, and patchy clothing hung off of his thin frame. Was he drunk? High? Did someone roofie his coffee?

   Whatever composure Brad had left him. “Wow,” he whispered. Just a breath seemed like enough to knock the little guy over. “Hey, there, du—”

   Toby didn’t hesitate to whip his needle out. “Back!” he tried to snap, though it was more like a squeak. God, he must’ve looked pathetic. His legs were jelly. Every bit of him trembled. “St-stay back!”

   The giant blinked. He shook his head of shaggy black hair, rubbed his eyes with unfathomably huge fists. Toby did his best to suppress a lame whimper when those hands appeared. “So I’m not dreaming,” he said, more to himself than to Toby. It took every ounce of courage not to cry. 

   The bean, however, seemed to notice his fear. “Wait, little dude, hey…” He eyed the needle warily. “You don’t hafta be afraid.” Toby didn’t believe him for a second. 

   The borrower looked suspicious. “Back up,” the little guy growled, and surprisingly, Brad obliged. He took a step away so he didn’t tower over him (and so he didn’t suffer the wrath of his needle). 

   How did Brad look right now? He wasn’t the biggest person around, but he certainly wasn’t the smallest in his family. Even so, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He couldn’t even bring himself to squish spiders. He’d always trap them in a cup and usher them onto the balcony. This little person, though, didn’t know that. He held his needle-sword up high, his toothpick arms shaking all the while. It practically broke Brad’s heart.

   What’s this guy doing? Toby thought. Nothing was stopping him from snatching him up in a fist and stuffing him in a jar or a shoebox. Was he luring him into a false sense of safety just so his experiments would hurt more? Was he p—

   “Hey, man, you okay?” The bean’s thick brows were knit together with concern. “You’re looking a little pale.”

   “Wouldn’t y-you be?” Toby scoffed before he could stop himself. Man, I’m so dead. “I-I-I mean, someone as big as you is a little Goddamn terrifying! God knows what the hell you’re gonna do to me! ” He snapped his mouth shut. He’s gonna fucking kill me for real now. 

   “What I’m gonna d— No, buddy, I swear I’m n—”

   “Stay. Back.” Holy fuck, what am I doing?! Toby thought. The most he could do was poke the bean’s finger with his needle, but that would only make him angry. He contemplated running, but his thought dissipated when he realized the giant would have plenty of time to stop him.

   Brad’s jaw went slack. For such a little guy, he sure was brave. But after a beat, his words finally sunk in. “Wait. C’mon, man. I’m not— I’m not gonna do anything to you. I’m just. I’m just surprised. I mean, it’s not every day you find a little man in your cabinet.” With a chuckle, he asked, “So are you gonna start paying me rent, or what?” It didn’t immediately dawn on him that this tiny person probably didn’t know what rent even was.

   Toby frowned. What the hell is this guy talking about? More to the point, what game is he playing? 

   With a frown, Brad took another small step back so he didn’t smother the little guy and held up his palms. “Okay, okay, look. I promise I’m not gonna hurt you. Cool?” He didn’t respond, but his shaking arm did lower the needle a bit. That’s a start. 

   Brad heaved a sigh that ruffled Toby’s wild hair. “Right. Uhm. I’m… I’m sorry for scaring you, dude. I didn’t mean it. I swear.” He fiddled with his thumbs. A shy look crept over his face. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Brad. What’s your name?”

   For a moment, Brad was afraid that the guy was too terrified to answer. But then came the timid voice, so quiet compared to the man’s earlier jab. “Toby.” 

   Just play it cool, Toby thought. Do what he wants and maybe he’ll let you live.

   “Toby. That’s a cool name.” A set of teeth that could snap Toby in half without a second thought were bared at him in a wide smile. Toby could barely hold his ground without flinching. “Wait… You were here for food, right?” 

   Toby’s heart skipped a beat. “You… You’re not mad, a-are you?”

   “No!” Brad said, maybe a little too quickly, because the little guy— Toby — flinched. “I promise I’m not mad,” he added. “Y’know, I was, uh. I was gonna have dinner, anyway. How ‘bout you eat with me? You look like you could use a hot meal.”

   “Oh,” Toby said lamely. His head was going a million miles an hour. Was this Brad guy serious? He just found a tiny creature going through his food, and he’s offering him dinner? It’s gotta be a joke, right? Some weird, fucked-up joke. But instead, what came out of his mouth was, “Uh. S-sure.” 

   Brad couldn’t stop a grin from crossing his face. “Cool. Cool, cool cool. How does pasta sound?”

   “P-pasta sounds great.” My God, Siri’s gonna kill me if this guy doesn’t.

   “Awesome. Wait here.” The bean ducked out of sight, his footsteps rattling Toby’s entire world. 

   Is this a trick? Is he gonna put something in the pasta? Why, why did I say yes?! God, Toby, you fuckin’— It took him a while, but Toby finally came to his senses: the giant was gone. 

   The giant was gone!

   He’d left him to his own devices. Never, in all of his years, had Toby heard of a human who would do that. His parents had always told him that humans were malevolent giants that wouldn’t let you go the minute they got their hands on you. Clearly, they were wrong. At least Brad wasn’t like that.

   In spite of that, Toby was scared shitless. Every cell in his body begged him to leave, but his feet were rooted to the spot. But did he want to leave? After all, the giant did just offer him a free meal. And he was nice. He didn’t grab Toby, or even talk too loud. And he listened. 

   One thought trumped all of that: Siri. God, she was probably terrified, wondering where her friend was. On the other hand, she might’ve been ready to jump him when he returned after a talk with a human. Should he go home, or risk it all for some pasta and the chance that he might not die?

   Toby was at a crossroads.

***

   Brad was over-the-moon. Who would’ve thought that he’d be making dinner for a little, blue-haired guy? An unknown roommate, a potential friend? This was the kind of change he needed.

   With a triumphant hiss, he pulled exactly what he needed from his desk drawer: a spool of stiff art wire from his more creative days. He could bend together a little set of utensils so the guy didn’t have to eat with his hands. 

   “Alright, buddy!” he called as he returned to his kitchen. “It won’t be much, but I promise it’ll be ta— Oh.” 

   The cupboard was empty. All that was left was the tiny patchwork bag near the sugar bowl. Somewhere, deep inside his chest, Brad’s heart broke just a little bit. Why am I feeling like this? For some tiny dude I met ten minutes ago?

   He let out a defeated sigh. Not that he could blame him. Brad couldn’t imagine how terrifying he must’ve seemed to a four inch tall man. Toby wasn’t even the size of his hand. It’s not your fault. With that in mind, he grabbed a pot from under the sink and started boiling water for his dinner. A pasta dinner just for him. Not for two.

   At least he knew he wasn’t dreaming.

***

   Toby was out of breath when he finally reached his door. 

   It was late, but Siri was definitely still up and waiting impatiently. How was he going to explain his borrowing run to her? If he told her he was spotted, they would without a doubt have to pack up and leave, which was tedious. That, and they probably would have to live with a human that didn’t have good snacks.

   He took a deep breath. He would be honest. Yeah, honest. Brad wasn’t murderous or enraged when he found Toby looting for sugar. He was good, and nice. Siri would understand. He pushed the door aside and entered his home. 

   Sure enough, Siri was waiting on his hacky-sack chair. But when she spotted him, she looked relieved, not angry. “Good grief!” she cried, charging into him. Her hands shook from where they rested on his arms. “Shit, Toby, were you gone a long time. I thought you were dead!” Toby didn’t have the energy to respond as she looked him up and down. “Where’s your bag?”

   Fuck. My bag. He must’ve left it by the sugar bowl in his desperation to leave. “Rats,” he said blankly. What happened to being honest?  “I ran into a couple of extra territorial ones on my way back. I gave them my bag to distract them so I could get away.” He feigned an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Siri. I’ll go again tomorrow. Promise.” 

   He prayed and prayed that Siri would believe him. With a sigh, she shook her head.

   “No, Toby, it’s okay.” His friend patted him on the shoulder. “You’ve had quite a day already. Go on and sit down, I’ll fix you a bowl.” As she turned away, every muscle in his body relaxed. He could’ve died twice today and still he managed to come out unhurt.

   Still. He flopped down in his hacky-sack chair and blew his bangs out of his face. There was something missing, and it wasn’t his borrowing bag.

   Why did he feel so bad?

[xmalereader]

The Mandalorian X Short! Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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@akaito1

Request: hello I just wanted to request a Mando x Shortish reader. The reader loves that he is short and petite since he can fit into small places. Mando teases him a lot until he needed help on a bounty. He gets captured and the reader goes saves him. It’s a fluffy request.

Warnings: Fluff, sarcasm, short reader, Height difference.

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“Stop it.”

Din grins under his beskar helmet as he stared down at the shorter male. The two have been partners for almost a year now and Din just coulnd’t get over that fact that his partner was short. He he was shorter than him and used this as an advantage to tease the other male.

“Need help getting that?” Din tilts his head up at the medical box that was located on a top shelf of the razor crest. Y/n was standing on his toes as his fingers grazed the edge of the box, grunting as he tried to get the damn box. “Shut it, bucket head.” He mumbles out and glared at the mandalorian who continued to stare at him with a hand on his hip. He was waiting for him to give up which annoyed Y/n, it wasn’t the first time that the mandalorian had teased him this way. Mocking his height.

Y/n tries to stand a little taller but his legs and arms were giving out. Groaning he finally gives up. “Just get me the damn box!!” He shouts in frustration. Din rolls his eyes and walks over to take down the medical box, “You do know that we have a stool right?” Y/n glared at Din and snatches the medical kit away from him. “Don’t even get me started.” He limps over to his cot and sits down, rolling up his pants as he cleans his cut and makes sure to bandage it up.

Din walks over to the child’s pod as he double checks on him. “He’s been sleeping all day.”

“Yeah no, duh. Kids got an ability that gets him tired if used to frequently.” Said Y/n as he finishes up with his leg and smiles at his work. He closes up the medical box and walks over to return it back to its rightful place.

Din lifts his head up and shifts his gaze to y/n, smiling at he watched. “Need help putting it back too?” Y/n grumbles and in anger he tosses the box up, slamming it against the wall. “I swear you will regret your teasing one of these days.” He points a finger at him in warning causing Din to raise his hands up in defense, not really taking the threat seriously.

Y/n walks over to the kids pod and sighs. “Do you know where were going?” He asks and closes the kids pod before turning to face din. The mandalorian shrugs, “I’m trying to find us a nice planet where you and the kid can stretch your legs while I look for a job there.”

Y/n frowns. “When will you let me help?”

“Never.”

The mandalorian turns away and climbs up the ladder that leads him to the cockpit. “What do you mean never?!” The shorter male climbs in after him and follows him through the cockpit. He sits next to the pilots seat and crossed his arms with a small pout on his face. “Becuase they are dangerous and you always seem to attract the most trouble.” He was flipping some switches and putting in some coordinates. “That’s not true.”

“Is so.” Din puts the razor crest on hyper speed, he turns his chair to face y/n. “Yes you are, last time I allowed you to help me you caused havoc and nearly lost our bounty. You also almost lost the kid—“

“In my defense; the kid ran away from me while I was trying to get him back in the pod.” He cuts him off and looks away, sighing deeply. He’s been taking care of the child while mando did all of the dirty work. He misses being out there and taking down bounty’s together but once the kid came into their lives; everything suddenly changed. Din grew soft towards the kid and began to take care to care of him, suddenly becoming the kids father.

The relationship between the two was complicated.

They were close and Din trusted him with his life, he was actually the first person that Din told his real name too. The two always stick together and if anything happened to the other they would lose their mind, they were just used to each other’s presences, Y/n really loved Din.

“Get some rest, shorty.”

Never mind he takes that back.

“Din I sweat, one more short joke and I’m throwing you off this ship.”

“You know I can’t take your threats seriously because, each time you do say something it doesn’t make you sound scary. It makes you sound adorable.”

Y/n blushes deeply and buries his face in his hands. “I’m going to rest.” He quickly says and leaves the cockpit, heading back down the ladder as he throws himself inside his cot and lands face first onto his pillow, he groans against his pillow in embarrassment. “I hate him, but I also love him.” He groans again and buries his face away in his covers and pillow.

—

“I’ll be back soon—“ Din was able to find them a suitable planet to land on and had found a job for himself. Y/n was standing outside the razor crest with the child in his arms who cooed at both Din and Y/n, his eats moving up and down. “Don’t cause any trouble and stay close to the razor crest, in case anything happens.”

“Din—“

“Don’t forget to keep the kid close—“

“Din.”

“Make sure that you and the kid eat something too.”

“Din!!”

“What?!”

Y/n sighs and sets the kid down, standing up straight he faces the mandalorian. “You’ve been telling me the same thing for months now, I know the drill so dont worry about me but about yourself. This bounty your after sounds dangerous so if anything happens to you the you send me a holo, got it?” He raised a brow at then, waiting for the other to confirm himself.

Din nods in reply. “Got it.” He softly says as Y/n stands on his toes and presses his head against the beskar helmet a some way kiss that the mandalorians did amongst each other. A moment that they liked to share with each other. “When I come back I expect you to be a little taller.”

Moment ruined.

Y/n glares at him and shoves him away. “Go before I decide to blast your ass.” He earns a chuckle in return which causes the shorter male to roll his eyes and groan. “How did I fall in love with a man like him?” He asks the child that stood by his legs, his ears fall back in confusion as he grips the end of his pants. “of course you wouldn’t understand.” He bends down to pick up the child and hold him in his arms. “Since we are alone, might as well and spend some time outside.” With that he pokes the child’s nose and earns a giggle in return.

The two remained outside for the rest of the day; playing in the grassy field as the child ran around while giggling happily. He was still learning how to use his abilites and had tried various times to try and pick up a stick with his abilites but he was still too young. Y/n sometimes watched in admiration on how such strange abilities could make such a small thing strong. “That’s enough little one or else you’ll get yourself hurt.” He takes the child small three fingered hand into his own as the child whines in protest but y/n shakes his head. “Not today, right now you need rest. You used up a lot of your energy.”

Heading back inside the razorcrest he makes sure that the kid falls asleep and is placed inside his pod, sighing tiredly he closes the pod and looks outside to see the suns setting already. “Where is he?” He knows that bounty hunting can take up to a day or two depending on how complicated the bounty is but mando was able to handle anything. But somehow it felt longer and Y/n was slowly getting an odd feeling.

Glancing at the closed up pod he bites his lip nervously. “Kriff.” He heads over to his cot and grabs his own blaster and double checks on the kid. “Please be here when I get back.” He tells himself before exiting the razor crest and closing up the ramp. He has no idea how he was going to find Din but deep down inside he felt like he already knew where he was.

—

Din had gotten himself captured, he was doing very well on getting the bounty but turns out that the bounty wasnt alone. It had help from a group of humanoids that sold spice and they thought that it would be a good idea to capture a mandalorian. Din thought he could space easily but their cells were on high security, he’s already tried a few times to escape but nothing seemed to work. He couldn’t give up, he had a kid and Y/n back at the razorcrest and for all he knows they could be in danger since the kid was still a bounty. Pacing around the cell he waits for someone to show up, already having a plan in mind.

“Well, well, well, am I seeing a captured mandalorian or is this all in my imagination?”

“Kriff.” Din looks around to Cell and raised a brow. “up here big guy.” He looks up to see y/n inside a vent, small enough for only him to fit through. “Where’s the kid?”

“Back at the razor crest—before you start yelling at me, I want you to know that he’s safe so dont worry.” He explains and adjusts his postion around the vent before turning back to face Din. Looking down at him, “I’m gonna need your help.”

Y/n’s lips twitch up into a grin. “Oh really? I thought you said that you did need my help.”

“Y/n, we dont have time for this!” Din hisses out.

“Oh there is plenty of time! I warned you Din Djarin that the next time that you teased me you would regret it.” Y/n glares down at him as Din lets his head hang back with a small groan before it drops down forward. “Alright, ill stop teasing you.”

“No more short jokes?”

“No more short jokes.”

“And you have to cuddle with me!”

“Y/n—“ Din was growing impatient, “Fine I’m going.” Y/n disappears through the vents and crawls around until he finds another opening. He climbs down and ends up on the other side of mandos cell. Dropping down he grunts and quickyl fixes his posture. “See? No harm done.” He tells hismelf before walking up to the cell and punching in the code number that allows the doors to open.

“Lets go before anyone else comes by.” Din was already booking it out but y/n stayed behind, taking his time. As din walks down the corridors with blaster in hand he glances over his shoulder to see y/n walking slowly behind him. “Can You be any slower?”

“Can you be an stupider?” Y/n shot back and grabs din by the wrist and drags him out into the open where a pile of bodies lied around. Din stared in shock before asking. “Did you do this?”

Y/n gasps sarcastically. “Who me? No, darling I think you’re confused because the last time I remembered you saying that ‘I couldn’t take care of myself’.” He stands next to Din with his hands behind his back and giving him an innocent look. Din rolls his eyes and puts his blaster away. “So, cuddling?” Y/n brings up the question again. “Only for a couple of hours.” Din answers back and makes his way through the bodies. Y/n smirks in victory as he follows after him, skipping through the corridors as he hums. “You look like a serial killer while skipping down a hall full of dead bodies.” Said Din.

Y/n laughs, “Yeah, you’re right I should probably stop.”

The two walked out of the underground building and made sure that they weren’t seen escaping. The walk back to the razorcrest was short since the two were desperate to get back and making sure that the kid was safe. “Baby?” Y/n whispers, once the ramp was lowered down for them. On the other end stood a grumpy baby, his ears pinned back as he glared at the two adults. Y/n bites his lip and laughs nervously, “next time we take him with us?”

“I’m not taking the kid to our next bounty hunt.” Din walks over to the kid and bends down, picking him up and holding him in his arms. “Come on, lets get going and search some place else for another bounty.”

Y/n nods in agreements and heads inside, making sure to close the ramp before they leave for their next destination.

[theriverpersonshadow]

Lamia Drama/Deltarune Semi-Crack Fic

The not-awaited, not asked for Lamia Drama X Deltarune crackfic that absolutely no one wanted, but might now find they want!

I played Deltarune Chapter 2 and just decide to write some silliness for fun. This is extremely non-canon to everything involved. Spoilers (kinda but not really) for DeltaRune Chapter 2.

Warnings for swearing, an extremely brief moment of existential dread, and one sexual joke.

As always, the species of lamia I use come from @vex-bittys

If this is your cup of tea, maybe buy me a Kofi?

           Susie stared up at the sign in front of them. “Kris. This…. Is this a fucking pet shop???” Susie said. The sign said “Caring Coils” and had a picture of someone part skeleton, part snake.

           “No! It’s a spring shop!” Lancer said. What else could “Coils” mean?

           “U-Um… I… I don’t know where this building came from???” Ralsei said. As far as he was aware, they had seen neither snakes nor springs on their journey, but apparently this was in Castle Town now! Somehow!

           Kris walked in. It was surprisingly bright for something in the Dark World, eerily similar to what it’d be like in the light world, but given that the main inhabitants seemed to be the apparent offspring of Jockington and Sans, just�� What was even happening here.

           “Are these, like, half skeleton, half snake?” Susie said, walking up and knocking on the glass holding the Mamba. A dozen or so snakes suddenly tackled the glass, hissing at her. “Okay, not gonna lie, that’s kinda cool. You think they bite?”

           Kris just stared at the sign on the glass enclosure saying “Please Ask Before Handling – We Bite – Highly Venomous” until Susie got the hint.

           Regardless, Susie hummed, seriously contemplating sticking her entire hand in there anyways. “Hey. Hey Noelle, you dare me?”

           “SUSIE NO!”

           “C’mon, does venom even work on monsters?”

           “Hah! Clearly you know nothing. Monsters do not have blood and nerves to shut down the same way humans do,” Berdly said, strolling over to the Mamba enclosure. “They don’t even look that tough. Look! They’re worm- AAAAAAAAAAAA;LKJSDFLK;JDFA!” He had stuck his hand in there and immediately gotten himself bitten by like 13 Mamba. He flapped his wings, running around the room and sending bitty Mamba flying absolutely everywhere. Tiny battle cries filled the room as they chased after Berdly.

           “Um… Kris? Should we help him?” Ralsei said, watching the chaos.

           Kris answered No, deciding to instead head into the back. Unlike the skeletal-snakes who were snake sized in the front, this area seemed inhabited by skeleton-sized skele-snakes. Kind of. Most were shorter than Kris, except one Cobra who zipped directly by them with a weaponized mop in hand. Kris peaked back – looks like the cobra dude was mopping up the little skelesnakes. Cool, that’s been settled.

           They got a few odd looks as they browsed the area. It had snake things, and child things. Presumably for snake children, which most of these seemed to be. If not for the supplies and price tags, it’d be easy to mistake this place for an orphanage – which Kris could understand, who would want a Sans X Jockington baby?

           Oh hey, that one might be an adult. A particularly grumpy looking  skele-snake looked them up and down, them immediately flipped them off, “Oh great, I thought I was done with human shit. Or whatever the fuck you are.”

           Kris flipped him off back. What meaningful dialogue.

             Meanwhile, Ralsei was trying to figure out what he should do. In the few seconds Kris had left, Suzy had broken another enclosure completely and even more snakes were running around, not at all helped by Lancer and Rouxls mistaking the new lightners(?) for worms and trying to eat them. Berdly had been swiftly knocked out by the tiny swarm.

           Thankfully, something answered Ralsei’s prayers. He didn’t expect his newly found angel to be a 12-foot-something long version of the things causing chaos, but he literally started mopping up the little ones and depositing them into boxes. As soon as that was done, he gave them all an exhausted, withering stare, “Why. Just… why.”

           “Worms are tasty!” chirped Lancer.

           “These are not worms, we’re lamia,” the new person said. He sighed, straightening himself, “Where are my manners. I’m Nikolai. Apparently the rest of the staff disappeared, somehow, and I have no idea where we are, so forgive me if I’m a bit… in need of several of wines.” His “staff” uniform had been replaced by gold and white robes… and a small golden nametag declaring him “staff”.

           Rouxls pushed himself to the front. “I sympathizeth with thee mostly fullily, thine fellow worker of high class and generallyeth most terrifying stature.”

           “… I think I’m having a stroke,” Nikolai said.

           “Hey Yooooo. I Heard Someone Was Wanting Wine (alcoholic)? I Have Some Battery Acid Right Here!” the Queen said, holding her glass cup of battery acid. It exploded in her hand. “Oops Lol (amused)”

           “… I… I give up,” Nikolai said, laying his head on a table. Several of the bitties were chirping and giving praises, trying to tell him not to give up, but the Mamba were also trying to knock the box they’d been placed in off the shelf by all ramming the side of it at once. The chaos refused to be contained any longer.

           Ralsei looked at Nikolai sympathetically, going over and patting his back, “H-Hey, it’s okay! I’m sure between the two of us and Kris we can keep… order… Oh dear.” Everyone had scattered. It seemed that only The Queen, the unconscious Berdly, and Noelle remained in the room with them.

             The Queen looked into the bitty Papython tank. “Hey Is That You Trousle?”

           Trousle looked up at this new lady with the cool glasses, nodding.

           “Sorry You Came Eleventh In The Dragon Cards The Deckening Mini-Tournament Game But Dang Getting That Much Out Of Like A Billion People (Exaggeration) Is Dang (Damn) Impressive!” The Queen said.

           Trousle’s eyes widened, how did she know that?

           “Oh Yeah And Here Is This (based on search history: Sexy Dom Bitties).” It was a small domino with Mettaton legs sticking out from it.

           Trousle was silently screaming, but being him had the perk that he didn’t have to hold in his screams! They were silent by default. So he was just screaming and completely blush-colored in the face.

           “Oh And Emo Thrash Metal (based on search history: Emo Thrash Metal).” She deposited a small broken chunk of the Thrash Machine that had thrashed her giant robot’s ass which was inexplicably wearing eyeliner and had “it’s not a phase mom!” written on it.

           Meanwhile, Susie had joined Kris in flipping off Hux, and then Liam came.

           “Tch. I don’t know what you troglodytes think you’re doing, but we’re closed. Get out,” Liam hissed, putting himself between Hux and the intruders. They were not closed, but could you really be “open” when you had accidentally planeshifted to another dimension without the majority of your staff?

           “Yeah! Fuck off!” Hux hissed, throwing a double birdy.

           “YOU GUYS WANNA GO?!” Susie yelled, foaming at the mouth and drawing her axe. Liam looked injured, but if he was going to go around picking fights, she wasn’t going to stop him!

           “Oh please,” Liam said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, smirking far too smugly. “I would obviously win.”

           “OH IT IS ON!” Susie said, surging forwards. She and Liam both turned out to be too adept at dodging for this to go much of anywhere, and Hux and Kris just spent the fight insulting each other even after Susie and Liam got so mutually carried away they left the battlefield.

           Lancer had found some new kind of paradise: a plastic hammock full of dubious, blueberry snot flavored salsa! He paid no mind to the other person using the weird spa, just jumping in and plopping into the vat of goo.

           Oozy blinked owlishly at Lancer, then started laughing, “Kid? Kid, what are you doing?”

           “I’m claiming this spa as mine, you minty fresh bundle of mouthwash.”

           “Um… This… is my bed?”

           “No it’s not! This is a hammock, not a bed!”

           “… can’t argue with that logic,” Oozy said, shrugging. He wrapped lightly around Lancer, purring. That said, he couldn’t quite resist the urge to tease, “Wow, easiest snack ever.”

           “Thanks!” Lancer chirped.

           Rouxls Kaard then skidded down the hallways without ever adjusting his Trademark Pose, “HALT WORMTH! THEE SHALSTH NOTS EAT MINE PRINCETH.”

           Oozy, being a little shit, looked Rouxls in the eye as he lightly pressed his teeth to the back of Lancer’s head and audibly said, “Nom.”

           “NOOOOO! UNHAND HIM, THINE UNCLEANETHEST OF HEATHENS!”

           “Naaaah.”

           “I’m slimy!” Lancer chirped.

           Meeeeeeanwhile, Keith was laughing maniacally in a mix of sheer disbelief and genuine amusement as he dodged kicks from a living checkers piece, a small army of Pawns at his side. Too bad they weren’t from the same game.

             Some of the Queen’s butlers helped Nikolai and Noelle clean up the storefront from the burst of chaos (and Berdly). They still weren’t sure how they got there, but y’know what, even Nikolai cannot contain this, so he lets the kids who are old enough play around the area with some supervision.

           The Mamba immediately flock to the Dojo, Liam leading the charge, to prove their superiority over all. Berdly gets his ass beat there again. There are Papython in the bakery and Kings in the café, and, well, just lamia generally everywhere.

           A lot of the younger ones flock to Seam. Every child’s dream come true: a giant plush toy that can actually talk to you and he’s kind of just a big fluffy grandpa!!!

             Eventually just Kris and Hux are left inside, locked in a battle of wills and insults.

           “Like you’d even know what it’s like to not have fucking control of shit! To always be told what to do and what to be, and if you can’t, no one gives a fuck about you!”

           Kris: Act:

           Understand.

           They understand, they understand far too well.

           …

           Kris: Act:

           Kidnap.

           The snake boy is going home with them now. He screams, but he does not get a say in this. Bye.

[platypanthewriter]

Strangest 12/13

After the events at the Byers’ house in season two, Steve finds Billy where Max stuck him--in the trunk of his car. 

Previous chapter links

Steve and Max drank their hot chocolate in silence before wandering back to the garage, where El and Billy were applying the last licks of paint to the trim.  

“We’ll need to come back,” El said, putting her hands on her hips, and frowning from the trim, to Max, to Steve.  

“Guess it’s a real shop class then,” said Max, stalking over to carry the painted pieces carefully out of the way.  “Except El’s allowed to take shop already.”  She grinned between El and Billy, and Steve stepped closer, sensing a trap as her smirk widened.  “Maybe instead of shop, Billy should teach El home-ec.  Billy knows how to cook.”  

Billy stared at her, frowning warily, but El shrugged.

“All I need to know how to cook are waffles,” she told Steve, who snorted, coughing, and thought hard, watching Max and her brother work shoulder-to-shoulder as though they were used to it.  The sander filled the garage with its grating roar, and El plugged her ears.  

When it was done, Steve was ready.  “What about what goes on the waffles,” he asked triumphantly.  “I bet you don’t know how to make...those things.  You and Max could come over and we could make waffley things.”

El froze, then cocked her head, eyes narrowed.  “...IHOP things?”

Steve nodded, confident.  “He’s good at everything.”

There was a clatter as Billy dropped the board he was holding, and he and Max whispered furious insults at each other as they got it back in place.  Billy turned to stare over, his cheeks red, and his smile strained but present.  “Why the hell you telling this girl I’m some kind of...jam expert,” he asked, as Max glared up at him.

“When the hell you been making jam?” she hissed.  “I never saw you make jam.”

“It’s fine,” Steve waved his hands.  “We can ask Ms. Williams to supervise.  And like—whipped cream.  I bet he can make whipped cream,” he suggested daringly, only to look over to see Billy looking deeply unimpressed.  

“Yeah, anyone can whip cream, Harrington, glad you got such high estimation of my—”

Eleven stood as though struck.  “You can make those things?”

“Don’t you think Max and Eleven should come over, and we can have waffles?” Steve asked Billy, widening his eyes, and trying to send yes, Billy, say yes, telepathically.  

Max rolled her eyes and focused her glower back on the edge she was sanding.  “You know it’ll happen now Steve mentioned waffles.  Can we play your Atari?”

Billy stared down at her head, flicking a weirded-out glance at Steve.  “Y-yeah, we can...get some fruit, or something.  I can...figure out jam,” he told her, nudging Max with his elbow.  She nudged him back with her shoulder, and he shook his head, smiling uncertainly at Steve.

“Oh.  And they want us to come for waffles,” Steve told him.  “At the Byers’.

Billy blinked.  “Will’s house?”

“Tomorrow.  Will must have told us to ask you, like, ninety times,” Max bit out, rolling her eyes.  “He’s gonna cling like a koala.  He’s gonna clamp onto your leg.”  

It should have been a cute thought, and Steve smiled, but Billy’s shoulders clenched, and he stalked off to clatter around in the corner with the skis.  Max glared after him, biting her lips, and then kicked the sawhorse, twice.  

El blinked between them.  “...but you like Will?  Don’t you like Will?”

She looked betrayed, and Steve couldn’t help laughing.  

Neither could Max.  She grinned a little sardonically at El.  “I like Will fine.  Everybody likes Will.”  She stuck her hands in her back pockets, sighing.  “...just...glad my big brother found a kid he likes, I guess.  Great, right?  Just too bad I couldn’t deliver.”

“Oh!” El said, and turned a glare on Billy too, and Steve winced, stepping forward, just as Billy turned the Shopvac on and the noise drowned everything out.  He wandered back over, vacuuming carefully all around the sander and the sawhorses.  He ran the wand over the wood as he brushed it with a dry paintbrush.

He was pretty obviously taking way too long, and finally Max grabbed El’s hand and drug her up into the entryway.  

Max cleared her throat.  “I—I gotta talk to my mom.  Tonight.”

“I’ll go with you,” El offered, but Max shook her head.  Billy finally switched the vacuum off, and Steve resisted the urge to just walk over and hug him, or smack his ass.

“No, I just—I just need to—tell her.  I don’t—” Max said,  taking a deep, shaky breath.  “I don’t know—we can’t—I don’t know what—”

“If you need anything,” Steve said lamely, then steadier, “—if—you could stay in my room.  If she—if you need somewhere to um, to go—”

“Your room,” Billy repeated, squinting at him, while El nodded.  

“We can help you move out,” she told Max, who laughed.

“My mom’s not just going to leave,” she said hoarsely.  “M-maybe she’ll listen, maybe—maybe we could go—we could stay with Grammie a while and—and that would—” she stopped, pinching the bridge of her nose, and taking a deep breath, before looking back up with dry eyes.  “I—maybe.  I have to—I have to try and tell her.”

“Sure,” Billy sighed, his mouth quirked.

“I can help too,” El said again, her voice smaller, and Max reached over and squeezed her hand.  

“Yeah.  Thanks, El.  I—I need a ride home, it’s almost five—”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve nodded.

“Bring her here, and make Steve stay in my room,” Billy said, smirking at Max, and she relaxed a little as she shuddered, making a face.  

“Ew!  Eugh.  You’re so nasty—” the rest got muffled as El hugged her, and Max froze, then cautiously hugged her back.

Billy snorted, squinting at them, opened his mouth, and glanced at Steve before closing it.  He sighed.  “...Steve can drop you off.  I’ll clean up here.”

 When Steve got back, he yelled for Billy, and didn’t hear anything.  There wasn’t a lit cigarette glowing out by the pool, and Billy’s bedroom and bathroom doors were wide open, so Steve prowled around the house a few times before going in and trying his walkie-talkie—but it buzzed from Billy’s room, so he tossed it on the bed, and followed it, burying his head in the comforter.

He could only groan into the comforter so long, so he got his homework out, sat for a while staring at it, and put it away.  He went to clean up the garage, and Billy already had—the remaining box of Steve’s mom’s stuff was moved to a shelf, and all the sawdust had been swept away.  Billy’d moved his car back inside, and left a clear space for Steve’s, and Steve sighed, and grabbed a couple bags of marshmallows to restock the only cupboard he used.  After a few episodes of reruns in space, he turned off Kirk and Spock and muttered every swear word he knew into the pillows in the fort.  “Where the fuck are you,” he asked the Christmas lights, staring up, and hoping Billy wasn’t just...in the snow, somewhere.  He took a deep breath, and then another, his eyes stinging.

His stomach growled.  

He opened the fridge and frowned in, sighing at the tubs of things like margarine, and sour cream, that he couldn’t just eat.  

He swiveled to study the coats by the door, trying to decide whether Billy had one, then just grabbed one, and a scarf and hat, and hauled the armload out and around.  “Where’s my knight,” he called softly.  

In the darkness, Billy snorted.  “My king,” he slurred.  “He calls for aid?” he mumbled, and Steve reached towards his voice and yanked him close by the sweatshirt, pulling him into a kiss that tasted like 120 proof sawdust.  “Jesus,” he whispered against Billy’s mustache, leaning in for another taste.  “You suck down a whole fifth of whiskey as soon as I drove off?”

“Shut up,” Billy hissed, shoving away, and Steve followed, following the sloshing noise of a bottle.  

“You coming back in?”

“Fuck off,” Billy’s footsteps crunched away through the snow, and Steve stopped.  

“Uh, I brought you a coat.  And stuff.”

“Fuck off,” Billy hissed, unevenly, Steve thought, and he stood for a second, wondering whether this was a time to listen, or whether he should think harder, like usual.  

“Um,” he cleared his throat, grimacing.  “Uh, just if you’re gonna stay out, put a coat on, here.”

“Harrington—” Billy snarled, crunching toward him in the snow, and Steve bit his lips together.

“Okay,” he told the angry voice in the dark, “I’ll go, I’ll go, just—just take the coat, okay, just—”

“Give it to me, you fucking sheepdog,” Billy’s hand brushed his arm, then grabbed the coat, and Steve stepped back.  “I’ll wear the damn coat, I won’t fall in the damn pool, go watch a fucking musical.”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve laughed, and let his eyes close for a second to take a few deep, easy breaths.  “Okay, I’m—I’m going,” he called over his shoulder, turning back to the house, and rubbing his hands to warm them.  

“She’s a little bitch,” Billy yelled, and Steve stopped.  

“What?”

“Why the fuck you want me hanging around my step-sister, Harrington?” Billy called, laughing.  “You know she shot me up with that shit.  I coulda died.  Now you want us to make nice?”

“She’s...your sister,” Steve said, feeling wrong-footed.  “...you can’t—”

“I can’t what?” Billy asked, the snow crunching under his feet as he stepped up to breathe smoke and whiskey in Steve’s face.  “Can’t hate her?  Can’t wish she’d fucking die?”

“You don’t wish she’d die,” Steve told him, sighing.  “You can’t—”

“Oh, I can,” Billy said, laughing.  “I can, Your Majesty.  I’m not—” 

“Stop it,” Steve argued.  “You don’t—”

“You think?” Billy asked, in the slow, smiley way he’d had right before walking into the Byers’ house, and attacking Lucas for no reason.  “You think I don’t hate her?”

Steve reached out in the dark until he found Billy’s chest.  “Put your damn coat on.  I think…” he trailed off, trying to figure it out, as Billy waited, shivering against his hand.  Steve tried to imagine what it would have been like, thinking your mom had left, living with Neil Hargrove.  He got a handful of sweatshirt and yanked Billy closer, imagining him coming home every day to Neil yelling, or—or yanking him around, or hitting him—“Bi—Billiam,” he stumbled, avoiding Billy’s name, and Billy snorted a laugh.  “...does, um.  Does your dad hit Max?”

“Why the fuck would he hit Max,” Billy growled back.

“Why the fuck would he hit you,” Steve hissed, shaking him, but bit his lip, breathing Billy’s breath, and feeling him tremble.  “He didn’t hit Max, did he.”

“Fuck you,” Billy spat back, sounding a little choked.  

“He brought a kid home he didn’t hit,” Steve whispered, and Billy shoved him off.  

“Fuck you!”

“He’s nice to her, isn’t he,” Steve thought aloud, blowing into his cupped fingers.  “Because of her mom—”

“He’s not nice to her,” Billy gritted out.  “He treats her like shit, he wants her to—he thinks he needs to fix her with a strong father figure,” he said, snorting.  

“He doesn’t hit her, though, I bet,” Steve pressed, and Billy laughed.  

“Fuck you,” he said again, lighting another cigarette.  

“He knows his last wife left him, and he doesn’t wanna piss this one off too much—” Steve muttered, steepling his hands to think.  Billy laughed roughly, his voice shaking with the cold, and Steve sighed.  “Put the coat on, trespasser.  ...he knows he can’t hurt Max or her mom, right,” Steve whispered, putting it together, “—so he takes it out on you.  Whenever he’s pissed—”

“He’s not like that,” Billy hissed back.  “I don’t know what the fuck you’re thinking, but he’s not—it’s—it’s not—”

“Yeah, he is,” Steve shot back.  “Good dads don’t fucking hit kids.”  Billy took a shaky breath, and Steve crunched a couple steps closer to where the orange light of his cigarette lit his face and curls as he inhaled.  “...you don’t hate Max,” Steve said again, gaining confidence.  “You like her too—” 

“I don’t give a shit—” Billy growled.

“You’re jealous as hell,” Steve decided.  “She moved here and she had like five friends in a day.  I fought for her, I fought you.”

“Yeah, we all know who you’re gonna pick,” Billy said, turning away with a jagged laugh.  “I see you testing me out.  Shit.  Screw you, Harrington, I can keep it up, jesus.  I can do this, okay.”

“...what,” Steve asked, caught off-balance.

“Making sure I know my place,” Billy whispered.  “I get it, Harrington.  I get to stay if I can behave.”  

“Shit, is that what your dad did?!” Steve burst out.  “What a shithead, what’d he do, say he’d throw you out?” 

“...nah,” Billy said, but he let Steve get close again, so Steve could see his eyes, resigned in the warm glow of the cigarette.  “That’s you.”

“I won’t—” Steve protested, grimacing.

“Dad wants me home,” Billy said, laughing.  “Says I’m his problem.”

“You’re not a problem,” Steve told him stoutly, and Billy laughed.  

“Yeah, I am—”

“Sometimes you are,” Steve agreed, stomping his feet to warm up.  “Sometimes everybody is though, I mean.  You’re not—you’re more than a problem, you’re—” he waved his hands in frustration, then grabbed Billy’s forearms.  “You’re Billy.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Billy said, laughing, but his smile looked softer.  “Right there.”

“Not a problem,” Steve said nonsensically.  “You’re not.  You—”

“You keep saying he hits kids,” Billy said, leaning closer, and breathing smoke out over the dim orangey light like a dragon.  The smoke whorled around Billy’s hands, and Steve’s, holding his wrists.  “He doesn’t hit kids, Harrington, he only ever hit me—”

“You were a kid,” Steve shot back, shaking Billy, ineffectively, by his forearms.  “You—you’re his kid.  He hits you.”

“Doesn’t hit Max,” Billy whispered.  “Problem is me, Harrington—”

“No,” Steve shook him again, leaning close enough their arms were pressed between them.  “Your dad’s an asshole, that’s the—”

“Fucking...hate a little girl,” Billy said, looking down, then up again, deep into Steve’s eyes.  “Little—fucking—skateboarder—girl, Your Lordship.  I wish she got hit.”  He said it again, slower.  “I wish he hurt her.  That fucked up enough?  I wish he fucking—grabbed her hair and held her face down next to the stove burner.  ‘M’I still not the problem?”  He laughed at Steve’s expression, and Steve wondered what it looked like. 

“B—Knight,” Steve interrupted, but he didn’t have a good answer, so Billy grinned like a carnivore, and kept going.  

“When I can’t breathe I wish he’d hurt her instead,” Billy whispered, yanking his arms free of Steve’s hold, and stepped back.  “You can tell she doesn’t have any fucking idea what to do,” he rasped.  “Just standing there watching, trying to get him to stop, even, and I’m thinking I wish it was her.”

“Jesus,” Steve breathed, trying to keep track of Billy’s shape when he turned away, his body hiding the glow of the cigarette.

“Starting to see the cracks, finally?” Billy called back, laughing, and Steve jumped, squinting back into the darkness.  “I see her there and I want her to hurt—”

“Or wishing he’d stop hurting you, maybe,” Steve suggested.  

“Yeah, that’s what I should be hoping, isn’t it,” Billy laughed raggedly.  “What the fuck kinda monster watches her run off and wishes she was drowning too?”

“No, you don’t,” Steve argued, grabbing Billy’s arm to yank him around, to see his face, and Billy shoved him.  Steve stumbled backwards in the snow and fell on his ass, the cement around the pool jarring every bone in his body through the hard-packed snow of their footprints.  

“Fuck,” Billy whispered, dropping next to him, and patting at him clumsily in the dark.  “Shit, Harrington, go—go back inside.  I’m the fucking problem, Harrington, me—not my dad, not Max—” he cut off with a groan, shoving away again and stalking off.

“Stop,” Steve said breathlessly, pushing himself back up to his feet to follow, and Billy laughed again.  

“Stop,” Billy whined.  

“B-babe,” Steve gritted out, stomping after him.  “Quit it, jesus.”

“Waaah, is the truth scary, Your Majesty?” Billy asked, half crying, half laughing as he staggered to a stop, grabbing a scrubby tree for balance, silhouetted against the light of the house.  “Stop it,” he mimicked, like Steve was a whiny toddler.  “Ennnh, fucking baby—you seeing the cracks, now?”

“What?!” 

“Been spackling them over,” Billy laughed.  “Gotta keep it together.  Smooth surface for Steve, right?  Fill those cracks in.  Sand ‘em over, long as you—long as you don’t look close.  Just—I’ve just been hiding the cracks, Harrington, you gotta—you gotta hide the cracks.  But I—I can’t—can’t hide where...Max is,” he laughed, but it sounded harsh.  “That crack’s too big, y’know?  Can’t shovel enough in there, you see it, right?  You see now.”

Steve waited, squinting into the darkness.  “Uh,” he said, into the silence.  “...I know you’re—”

“Dirt gets in the cracks,” Billy whispered, from less than a yard away, and Steve startled again.  “Rots in there.  All the broken places.  Gathers flies and—and maggots—” he trailed off, laughing the kind of laugh that you had to listen carefully to to tell whether it was tears.

“Um,” Steve cut him off, and Billy paused, breathing in wet pants.  Steve bit his lip, thinking.  “Like...fruit?” he finally asked, into the silence, and Billy cracked up laughing.  

“Yeah, your majesty,” he finally answered.  “You’re right, I’m a fruit!  All rotten in the bruised places—I’m a fag, I’m a—I’m a fucking—”

“Shut up, that’s dumb,” Steve gritted out.  “You—you’re not—you’re a—you’re my goddamn boyfriend, not an apple.”

“You saw, you can fucking see it now, I know you—”

“No, listen, shut up,” Steve hissed, putting his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t grab his drunk idiot and shake him.  “Listen.  Listen.  Apples bruise, okay, they rot, they do that, yeah.  People,” he stepped closer, “—people—I’m going in, I swear, I’ll go inside, but listen—people heal, okay.  You’re bruised, yeah, you—” he whispered, but he couldn’t take Billy’s silence, and put a hand out to find his stubbly face, rubbing his thumb over skin sticky with tears.  “He bruised you.  Maybe—maybe he cracked you, I don’t know—”

Billy leaned into his hand, and took a shaky breath.  

“You’re not a banana,” Steve growled.  “You—you’re not gonna turn black and rot away ‘cause he slammed you around, okay, you’re not—”

“It’s inside,” Billy whispered.  “S’not—s’nothing he did, I’m just—”

Steve opened his mouth, closed it, and then smiled slowly, feeling like the Grinch when he had a wonderful, awful idea.  “Hey,” he leaned in close.  “You saying your mom is bad at makin’ babies?”

“No!” Billy said instantly, and Steve resisted a victorious snort.  

“Yeah,” he agreed.  “She’d beat you up.  She’s a good mom, right?”

Billy growled and bit lightly at his hand, and Steve grabbed his face, ignoring Billy’s snickering, and the tongue licking his fingers. 

He stroked Billy’s cheeks.  “She’s a good mom, and she made a good kid, right?”

Billy shoved him away again.  “...shut your damn face, Harrington.”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, listening to him crunch through the snow, and squinting towards his voice.  Steve sighed, and turned back towards the door.  “If you’re bruised, it’s his fault!” he yelled back, and then nearly fell on his ass, flailing his arms, as a snowball swiped his head.  

Billy was still laughing as Steve stomped the snow off his feet, and closed the back door.  

He boiled water, measured out ingredients, unwrapped candy canes, made hot chocolate, and cracked the window, only to hear a thin “PISS OFF, HARRINGTON” from the treeline.  He closed it again.  

 Steve waited hours, then finally stuck his head back out the back porch and yelled as he was grabbed by a black shape leaning over the edge of the porch.  Only the smell of cigarettes and whiskey kept him from punching Billy’s face, but he just leaned into him, his heart thumping with adrenaline.  “Jesus,” he whispered, pulling his half-frozen boyfriend closer.

“...fuck took you so long,” Billy slurred, and Steve grabbed him and shoved him inside, pulling a blanket off the couch and wrapping him up.  Billy curled easily against him, and Steve let them both drop onto the couch with a sigh, and wrapped his dumb blanketed boyfriend up in his arms.  

“Whaddaya mean it took me so long,” Steve growled.  “You told me not to go out there!”

“Yeah, but you don’ listen,” Billy mumbled into his shirt, and Steve sighed.

“You waiting for invitations now, trespasser?” he asked, and Billy squirmed closer.  

“Still came an’ got me.”

“Don’t wait for that,” Steve told him, rubbing his back as he started to shiver.  “Come in when you get cold, shithead.”

“Mmmm,” Billy laughed, warm against his neck.  “Maybe you thought ‘b-bout it a little more,” he slurred.

“No, listen,” Steve told him, shaking him gently.  “What if I’d fallen asleep, babe.  What if I went somewhere.”

“Mmmn,” Billy shook his head, nuzzling deeper in the blankets, and Steve took a deep breath, and manhandled his drunk slug of a boyfriend until he could cup his face.

“Billy,” he whispered, and Billy swallowed, trying to squirm away.  “No, ssh, c’mere, Billy Hargrove.”

“...listening,” Billy sighed, his mouth quirked, but his eyes fixed blearily on Steve’s face.  

“Need you to promise,” Steve told him, and Billy nodded vaguely.  “No, Billy, listen.  You’re in trouble, so I’m calling you Billy.”

Billy frowned, biting his lips together.

Steve kissed them.  “I—I love you.  I got feeblings, right?  So—so, you uh, you have to be nicer to me, okay?”  Billy burst out laughing, and Steve felt himself flush.  “Billy,” he whispered again.

“What happens when I’m in trouble with Steve Harrington,” Billy whispered back, smiling.  He was starting to shiver, and Steve stroked his hands over his boyfriend’s cold face, and neck, and frozen-feeling ears.

“We have to talk like this,” Steve told him, leaning in to press another kiss to Billy’s freezing-cold lips, and pulling back as Billy tried to deepen it.  “Pay attention, babe.  Trespasser.” 

“Okay,” Billy nodded, licking his lips.

“You have to—you gotta come in when you’re cold, okay?  You gotta come in out of the cold.”

“You come back,” Billy whispered, holding his freezing-cold hands over Steve’s on either side of his face.

“Yeah, I-I will, I’ll come get you,” Steve agreed, adjusting his hands on Billy’s face to cover more cold skin.  “But—” he took a shaky breath, “—you have to promise—”

“You’ll come back,” Billy said again, frowning.  “You—you gonna...stop coming?  Harrington?”  He laughed, an explosion of whiskey and smoke, and Steve made a face.

“I’m not gonna—that’s what I’m saying,” Steve hissed.  “You can’t just…you…”

“I’m gonna wait,” Billy whispered, his eyes bleary with whiskey.  “Wait for you.  You gotta come get me.  You don’t…” he took a wet, shaky breath, swallowing hard, “—you don’t want me anymore, don’t come get me.  You get...done.  If—if you’re done.  With me.”

“What if I have to take a shit,” Steve said, shaking him a little.  “What if—what if I eat two-week old Chinese food, and I shit for two hours, and you die, Bi—babe, what if you freeze to death—”

“That’s half a month,” Billy slurred, frowning at him.  He squeezed Steve’s hands, turning his head to kiss Steve’s thumb.  “Don’t eat that.”

“What if I fall asleep,” Steve whispered, starting to shake a little himself.  His eyes blurred with tears, and he blinked them away.  “What if I go to sleep and you go have a smoke and you don’t come back because you’re waiting for me to get up and get you.  I gotta get up and check to see if you’re alive?  I—I can’t sleep when you aren’t next to me?!  I can’t sleep because you might fucking die?!”

“No!  No,” Billy shook his head, wide-eyed, and yanked Steve closer, yanking the blanket around both of them.  “Sorry.  Sorry, shit.  Sorry.”

“Come in when it’s cold,” Steve said again, into to cold bulk of Billy’s shoulder, trying to sound stern, but his voice cracked and wobbled.  “I—I can’t—you gotta—Billy, you gotta come in—”

“I will, I will,” Billy muttered, wrapping both shivering arms around him, and squeezing until Steve’s bones felt like they creaked together.  Steve breathed against Billy’s shoulder, smelling snow, and cigarettes, and he turned his head to breathe against the damp skin of Billy’s neck.  Billy kissed his head.  “...I’ll come in, okay.  Harrington.  You can sleep.”

“I—I’ll just come get you,” Steve mumbled, pretty certain he’d be staring at the ceiling and jumping at imagined noises anyway, and Billy groaned into his hair.  “I’ll stay up for you—”

“...shit, no.  Fuck.  You—you’re right.  Not on you if I’m dumb.  I promise,” he said, pushing Steve away—he struggled, hanging on—so his still-shivering hands could cup Steve’s face, and Billy could look as serious as possible, drunk as hell.  “Harrington,” he whispered.  “Stevie.”

Steve laughed, startled, as his face heated.  “Nobody calls me that,” he whispered back, starting to snicker, and trying to duck his head.

“Stevie,” Billy said, squeezing Steve’s cheeks with a frown.  Steve tried to laugh through fishlips, and Billy smirked.  “Listen,” he said, and Steve nodded, blinking rapidly to try and get his eyes to clear.  “—’m gonna be more...careful, okay,” Billy said softly.  “I’ll—I’ll do better, okay, I’ll be good.  You don’t—you don’t have to—babysit me, okay.”

“‘M’a goo’babys’tr,” Steve mumbled, trying to talk through his squished lips.

“Gonna help you with that,” Billy sighed.  “With me.  Gonna help you make everybody safe, okay?  You don’t have to.”

“...okay,” Steve nodded, watching his face.

“Don’t have to babysit me,” Billy repeated.  “I’ll babysit me.”

“...you’re sure,” Steve pressed, laughing, so Billy wouldn’t notice his eyes—they were stinging, and probably red—or how hard he was trying not to just...stomp off and scream, scrabbling at his hair.  He wanted to just hide in his room again, have his little baby tantrum somewhere his boyfriend couldn’t see, but Billy’s hands held him fast.  Steve took a deep breath, and it caught in his lungs, so he took another.  “Love you,” he whispered, and Billy’s mouth quirked disbelievingly.  “Love you,” Steve emphasized.  “I’m not gonna let you die, so—so don’t tell me you—don’t say you’re gonna be okay, don’t lie to me if—if you need me to—do that.  For you.  Keep you safe.”

Billy watched his face for a long while—whole minutes, it felt like, and then shook his head.  “I’ll come in.  Harrington.  I—I promise, I’ll come in.  And if...if I...can’t take care of...me,” he said roughly, “—I promise I-I’ll tell you.  I won’t lie to you, I’ll say—”

Steve’s tear ducts overreacted and spilled entirely over, while his lungs made a weird noise more appropriate for braking trucks, so he tried to jerk away and get to—somewhere else, where nobody had to calm him down when he wasn’t even the one having a problem, but Billy yanked him into his shivering shoulder again, muttering into his hair.

“Jesus shit,” he whispered.  “Christ, Harrington, I’m—sorry, sorry, fuck.  Sorry.  Shit.  I don’t—I won’t—I won’t let anything happen to me, jesus.  I promise, your majesty.  I’m your knight, right?  I gotta—I gotta be strong, right.  Keep myself safe.  Can’t make you worry about your knight.  Don’t be broken, holy shit—”

“—’m not broken, just—just don’t die in my yard,” Steve sniffled, laughing, and then made another noise like a squashed cat as Billy’s arms tightened.  “I just—I fucking love you,” Steve whispered.

“Yeah,” Billy told him.  “Yeah.  Jesus.  Sorry.  I can—I know you’d come for me, right, I don’t—I don’t need to freak you out.”

“A-asshole,” Steve whispered shakily, groaning.  “—f-fucking...prick.”

“Yeah,” Billy agreed, laughing a little unsteadily himself, and burying his face in Steve’s hair.  “Yeah.  Sorry.  I’m so sorry, shit, I’ll help, okay.  You can—you can relax some, I’ll help you.  Jesus, sorry—sorry—”

“Fucking dipshit,” Steve slid his arms around Billy, squirming further into the blanket.  “God, fucking...love you, you asshole.”

“Mmn,” Billy nodded, sighing shakily, and kissing his ear.

“...sweetie-pie,” Steve tried, and Billy started laughing, his breath hot against Steve’s head.

 The next day, El drug Max over while Billy and Steve stood around smoking.  They were hauling four full trash bags and a trifold cardboard presentation board that brought bitter memories up in Steve of middle-school science class.  

“The hell is all that,” Billy bit out, glaring at the bags, but he yanked his keys out of his jeans and opened Steve’s trunk.

“Max’s mom won’t leave,” El reported, and Max’s eyes went red and shiny.  Billy hesitated, then grabbed more bags and put them in the trunk, but Steve noticed he was gentle.  

“Is this stuff...in case?” Steve guessed, and Max shook her head, sniffling.  She swallowed hard, kicking a rock into the side of somebody’s car, and her tears didn’t spill over.  

Billy’s shoulders were nearly up around his ears, and Steve squeezed his shoulder, stepping between he and Max like Steve was some kind of wall.  He cleared his throat, feeling dumb.  

“She won’t listen,” Max said in a weird, raspy voice.  “She says not to worry.”

“I can blow up his brain,” El said, in the vaguely monotone voice she had when she was the last line of defense, and Billy twitched in Steve’s peripheral vision.  

“Don’t do anything,” Max hissed.  “She knows about you.  She’d be so—she’d hate me.  I gotta—I’ll try again.  Shit.  I shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

El shook her head solemnly, sighing.  

“You can bring her to our place,” Steve said, again, feeling useless.  “If, uh.”

“How come we have to figure this shit out,” Max growled, kicking another rock.  “She’s the mom.”

“...she sure knows how to pick ‘em,” Steve snorted, and Billy turned to glare at him, but Max laughed.

“Yeah,” she sighed.  “My dad, uh, he was...he wasn’t...great either.”  She rubbed her face roughly, groaning, and El dropped an arm around her.  

Bily opened his mouth, glaring, then closed it, and Steve took advantage of the girls’ bowed heads to blow him a kiss.  Billy smirked, digging his fingers into his forearms, and stalked off, lighting up a few cars away.

“Waffles,” declared El, after tucking Max’s hair behind her ear, seeing tears, and freezing in place for several seconds, her hands twitching with indecision.

“What,” Max whispered, wiping her nose.  

“M-Mrs. Byers,” El said.  “And, um, Will, remember, they um, they invited us.  Waffles.  She said she could make waffles.”

“So what?” Max snorted, rubbing her eyes with her sleeves.  

“So,” El said, then bit her lips together.  

“...you want waffles right away?” Steve asked, half tempted to chase Billy, and tell him it was fine he didn’t want his dad murdered, but feeling obligated to stick it out with two girls, one of which was crying, and the other one looking like she wanted to.  “Uh, we could take you girls uh, somewhere, before Will’s—”

“I’m fine,” Max laughed hoarsely.  “Waffles aren’t gonna solve my problems, El.”

El bit her lips together, her eyes glistening with tears, and Steve wondered about the El-scale—what was a one-waffle problem, or a whole-box-of-Eggos problem, and what it told her about Max, hearing that this was a problem too big for waffles.

 Once El just gave up and hugged Max, an awkward moment, as Max’s eyes begged him for help, Steve wandered over to where Billy was smoking, and bumped elbows.  “...El won’t kill your dad,” he whispered, and Billy raised his eyebrows, eyeing him doubtfully.  

“You sure about that?” he asked.  “Kinda sounded like she might no matter what Max said.”

“Um,” Steve said, grimacing, and remembering the stories of El just...breaking necks.  No great loss, he thought to himself, then cleared his throat guiltily.  “We can talk to her.  Tell her you, uh, you don’t want her to—”

“That’s why?” Billy snarled, turning to toss his cigarette away.  “That’s why she shouldn’t?  It’s murder, Harrington—”

“He hit you,” Steve pointed out, mumbling, and Billy reached out, glanced around, and then pulled his hand back and put it in his pocket.  

“...so did you,” Billy hissed back, but he was grinning, a little.  

“I didn’t want to,” Steve growled.  “And I won’t, ever again, I’d never—”

“Yeah, sure,” Billy grinned, but it looked soft, and so did his lips.  Steve cleared his throat, so many protests swarming his mouth that he couldn’t get any of them out.  “You’d never hit me until I’m standing in front of the mugs and you want the marshmallows—”

“I might elbow you—” Steve protested, and Billy leaned in, smirking.  

“Until I tease you about your feeblings,” he whispered, and Steve raised his arm to punch Billy’s shoulder, and glared at it in despair.  Billy threw an arm around his shoulders, and yanked him close.  “...it’s not the same, Harrington,” he whispered.  “I know you want me around.”

“He does too, he loves you, he has to,” Steve argued, and Billy laughed, rubbing his face.  “He does,” Steve insisted.  “He knows you, he’s known you forever!  He loves you. He—he has to—”

“Not sure your math works out,” Billy told him, and he looked fond, which had Steve lurching closer, licking his own lips, until he remembered they were in the school parking lot.

“Not gonna kiss you right now,” Steve informed him, stiffly, “—but I’m right.  If he doesn’t love you, he—” Steve tried to think of an option, remembering chubby-cheeked Billy from the Christmas photos, in his awful knitted overalls.  Steve frowned hard into the middle distance.  “...maybe he’s an alien,” he said slowly, and Billy dissolved into snickers, his face pink-cheeked around his fingers.  

“I don’t get how your brain works,” he whispered.

“It works better than your dad’s,” Steve shot back, sliding his hand down and around Billy’s forearm, where he’d drawn the hearts, and rubbing his thumb over Billy’s sleeve.  “We won’t let El kill your dad, okay, she likes you, she likes Will, she won’t do anything to—to you, she won’t—hurt your family.”  He groaned.  “How come he’s such an asshole?!  Jesus,” Steve asked the air around them, waving his arms, and Billy laughed.  “Come on,” Steve told him. “—we’re going to Will’s for waffles, remember?”

Billy shook his head like he was trying to clear it, but he didn’t argue, and when they piled into the car, he called shotgun and dropped next to Steve.  He grabbed Steve’s hand, trembling for some reason, but when Steve tried to ask, Billy took a deep breath and started an argument with Max and El about whether they needed to bring anything to dinner.  Billy and Steve both felt greasing the wheels with unfamiliar adults was wise, while Max and Eleven sounded perplexed.

El was eventually the only holdout on gifts for Mrs. Byers—from her obvious alarm, Steve suspected she was worried she’d been breaking some unknown taboo—so Steve swung into Bradley’s Big Buy and watched as Billy grabbed flowers, then stared at the sparkling cider.  He spun slowly in place, and Max, picking up his nerves, grabbed and put back four different kinds of fruit.  El advocated filling an entire cart with whipped cream, and Steve let her fill a basket.

“Grab that sparkly juice,” Steve advised, always inclined to charm parents.  “Y’know, that,” he said, waving at the Martinelli’s, and Billy and Max hoisted two bottles under each arm and followed each other to the checkout in silence.  El frowned at them, then slowly did the same, and Steve tried not to laugh, watching the three of them in a solemn row, bottles under their arms, like they were carrying munitions and rations to the front lines.  He considered telling Billy they could go back that night and use the spare cider to fill his pool, then considered the way Billy’s fingers were tight and pale against the bottles, and leaned to whisper, “Surprised you know what to do with an invite, Trespasser.”

“Thought I was your knight,” Billy whispered back, and Steve stared at his smirk.  He was leaning in for a kiss when Max’s foot tromped on the arch of his foot.

 At the Byers’, Billy drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel, and grabbed Steve’s arm when he started to climb out of the car.  “So this is it.  This is—this is what you’re doing for Will.  Now.  Momma Byers and ‘Hopper’—” he still enunciated ‘Hopper’ like it was in quotes, “—they’re watching, today is—now.”

“What?” Steve cocked his head, listening, but also watching Max and El haul bags of cider towards House Byers, and trying to evaluate how many of the Party were pressed against the windows.  It looked like an entire school bus in there.  He sighed, shutting his car door.

“At IHOP,” Billy hissed.  “You said you’d—you’d be—queer at people.  So Will’d know what to do.  See what his mom said.  That’s why he wants us here.”

“Oh,” Steve said, swallowing as the terrifying thought of telling Joyce Byers he was queer reared its ugly head.  Maybe I can get her alone before we eat, he told himself, grimacing.  She’s—she’s nice, maybe—maybe she won’t be—too angry.  He took a deep breath.  Better me than Will, anyway.  “I—yeah, maybe, I—” 

He was still squinting at the front windows of the Byers’ house, wondering how the kids hadn’t figured out they were visible, no matter how much they made shushing motions at each other, when Billy came around the car, wiping his palms on his jeans.  He yanked Steve out, and grabbed him like they were about to square dance.  Steve stared at his face, the landscape whirling behind Billy as he dipped Steve into an open-mouthed kiss.  

Steve swore into it, throwing his arms around Billy’s shoulders, then relaxed when he didn’t get dropped on his ass, and tried not to think about the muscles holding him a foot off the ground.  “Giving me so many feeblings,” he mumbled, and Billy did nearly drop him, laughing, but swung him back upright to a chorus of whoops and whistles from the house.

Billy froze, spinning to stare at the kids crowding onto the porch—it looked like Lucas had even brought his little sister, Steve thought, distracted by his heart thudding in his chest, half with adrenaline, and half with all his blood rushing to his dick.  He took a deep breath, watching Billy brace his feet like he expected to get punched.  “Shit, Harrington—I—I—fuck, I thought—”

“It’s fine,” Steve told him, “—come on, it’s okay—”, grabbed his hand, and tugged him towards the house.

Billy made a soft noise in the back of his throat, and didn’t move.  

“Okay, stay there for a sec,” Steve said, diving back into the car for the last bag of cider, and the flowers Billy had grabbed.  

Footsteps crunched, and Will’s voice piped up behind him.  “I’m so sorry!” he panted.  “I’m so sorry, Eleven told me, and Max, and Mike, and he told Nancy, and I told Jonathan, and Max told Lucas, and nobody’d told Dustin, and I thought that was mean—”

“It was,” Dustin’s voice confirmed, as Steve crawled half under his seats looking for an escaped can of whipped cream.  “It was an asshole move, Steve Harrington—”

Steve resurfaced with the groceries, and Billy cleared his throat, saying, hoarsely, “How many goddamn people did I just—” 

“Like a hundred,” Dustin said, and Will punched him in the shoulder.  Dustin snickered, smacking back at him.  “—I mean, all the Wheelers are in there, Hopper brought his deputies, there’s the science guys from the lab, Mrs. Byers’ coworkers from Radio Shack—The Mayor—the President—”

Billy narrowed his eyes at Dustin’s grin, and reached over slowly to brace one hand on his shoulder and shove him sideways.  Dustin staggered, but his grin didn’t falter.

“What the hell,” Billy hissed at Will, who turned to look at the house.

“Not everybody saw?” he said hopefully.

Dustin staggered, cackling.  “Oh, and we videotaped it, too.  I’m gonna play it on the school intercom.  With commentary.  Like a football game—”

Billy stooped to scoop up some snow, and tossed it at Dustin’s face.  About half of it went in Dustin’s open mouth, and Steve raised his eyebrows at the gauntlet of carrying bags of groceries through the sudden battlefield, where Will was packing together a snowball, glaring at Dustin, and Billy was shivering, but cackling into the cuffs of his borrowed sweatshirt.  Dustin smacked Will in the face with a snowball before Will got his properly shaped, and Will yowled in fury, chasing him around the yard.  

El trotted back out, eyes narrowed, and then crouched to form her own snowball, and Mike ran after her, waving a hat and scarf.  Luckily, Joyce Byers and Jonathan met Steve at the door, and relieved him of his bags of whipped cream, flowers, and sparkling cider.  Behind them, Nancy waved her arms at the bags, looking weirded out, and Steve shrugged back at her, rolling his eyes skyward.  She shook her head, laughing.

As Steve turned back to the melee, Lucas wandered out the door past him, adjusting his scarf under his coat and yanking a fluffy hat down over his ears.

Billy’s head jerked up.  He’d been helping Will layer more snow along the top of an existing snow fort, and Steve was distracted for a second thinking about all the hiding places and fortifications Will Byers built, and who he pulled in there every time.  Probably his mom, Steve thought.  Joyce Byers seemed like she threw a mean snowball.  He liked the image of the two of them pelting Jonathan, while Nancy mounted an attack on their flanks.

Billy’s eyes narrowed as he took a deep breath, muttered something to Will, and stuck his hands in the pockets of Steve’s sweatshirt again.  He made for Lucas.  

Lucas looked up, swallowed, and backed away, and Steve nearly stumbled catching up to them.  He ran up to hear Billy stage-whispering “Need to talk to you.  The sheriff’s watching from the kitchen, you’re fine, can—can I just—around the corner of the house?”

He’d chosen his moment well—Will had run out and tripped Dustin, shoveling snow into his face with both arms, while Mike tried to pull him off, and El tried to pull Mike out of the fray, and Max hit everyone with snowballs indiscriminately.  Nobody was watching Lucas and Billy, except Steve.

Lucas glanced over Billy’s shoulder at Steve, who froze, then flexed his biceps, and gave a salute.  Lucas covered a snort with his mitten, and turned his deep frown back on Billy, who was waiting, hunched and scowling at the ground.  “Fine,” Lucas said, and crunched around to the side of the house.

Steve tried to crunch through the snow exactly when they did, the sound of their footsteps—and Dustin cackling as he and El dropped an enormous snowball on Mike’s head—covering the loud crunches of Steve tiptoeing onto the Byer’s porch.  He sank onto the porch swing, listening.  

“Listen, I fucked up, I’m sorry—” Billy started, and Lucas snorted.  Steve winced, and started to stand, but Billy wasn’t knocked out of stride.  “—I shouldn’t—I was—sorry.”

“What, you want me to forgive you?” Lucas asked, sounding pissed.  “You’re such an—”

“No!  No, I don’t care, but uh—I mean.  It’s—ha.  It’s not gonna happen, right?  But you’re—you’re gonna be—around.  You’re one of Steve’s—”

“I’ve got parents, actually,” Lucas informed him.

“You’re Max’s friend, and I’ll—I’m gonna be—around,” Billy pushed on, and Steve half wanted to lean around the corner of the house and cheer for him.  “I just wanted to say you’re, uh, safe.  I know you don’t—”

“Bullshit,” Lucas hissed at him.

“No, you—you are, dammit—sorry,” Billy interrupted.  “Steve would beat me to death with a nailbat if I took another swing at you.  Hopper would help him hide the body.  Look, you don’t have to trust me, just believe I don’t want to die.”

Lucas barked a laugh.

“I can—I’ll stay away from Erica if you want,” Billy told him, “—and, uh, cat girl, Tomoko?  Tomiko?”

“It’s Tomika,” Lucas muttered.

“I’ll tell them I can’t help.  If you want, I’ll even tell them why, and they won’t want my help, but.  You don’t have to be...watching for me.”  There was what felt like a long pause, as Steve tried to crane his neck around the edge of the deck without the swing creaking.  Snow crunched as one of them adjusted his footing.

“...okay,” Lucas said, finally.  “I guess.”

“You want me to stay the hell away from them?  I wanted to know before I went in there,” Billy asked, keeping his voice low.

Lucas didn’t answer again for long minutes, with only the sounds of the snowball fight, and their feet crunching in the snow.  “You know what, you can run all the errands for those morons you want,” he said finally.  “But if you—if you do anything—”

“No, I know,” Billy laughed.  His voice cracked.  “I’m sorry I was such a shitheel.  I’m trying to be...less shitty.”

That dropped into silence, and Steve clenched his hands on the edge of the swing, shivering, and resisting leaning around to see what was going on.

“Won’t be hard,” Lucas muttered.  “Max is scared of you.  She’s—she’s not scared of much.  And you scare her—”

“I know.  Working on a truce with her too,” Billy told him.  

“That what this is?  A truce?”

“I agree to be less shitty, and you agree to wait and see whether I am?  I think that’s a truce,” Billy said, and Lucas laughed, coughing.  

“Might have to help that cat a few more times before I believe you,” he said, but he sounded less hostile.  

“I already told Steve I’d help with his child adoption franchise,” Billy said, and Steve’s mouth fell open in offense.  His eyes narrowed, but Billy was talking again.  “If you want anything, lemme know.  I can start trying to make it up to you.  And Max.  Or—or just tell me to fuck off.”

There was another long pause, and Steve wrung his hands like a soap opera star, but his face heated with pride for Billy, who didn’t start yelling or anything, just waited.

“...truce, then,” Lucas said, finally.  “I guess.”

“Truce,” Billy repeated, and Steve wondered whether they were shaking hands.  He stood carefully so the swing wouldn’t bang against the porch rail, and trotted out into the snow, crossing his arms, as Billy and Lucas came back around the house.  

Their appearance caught Max’s eye, and her head jerked up, wide-eyed as she looked Lucas up and down.  She dropped the snowball she was making, clenching her hands into fists, but Lucas sighed and gave her a thumbs-up, and Billy glanced at him, and then slowly echoed it.  

She stared, then cocked her head, mouth quirking, and took a shaky breath.  When she walked up to Lucas, and Billy walked by them towards Steve, Steve heard her hiss “About time,” at Billy, who glared over at her.  “Thank you,” she mouthed, looking indignant, but Billy stared back before nodding.  

“Good job,” Steve whispered, wondering whether he could just kiss Billy, now, since he’d done it already, in full view of basically everyone they knew.  Billy snorted, ducking his head.  “Y’know,” Steve whispered, dodging another ‘snowball’ from Dustin, who was having a frustrating time getting them to stick together in his mittens, and kept throwing showers of snow that only went about six feet.  “Y’know you don’t—have to do anything—”  Steve bent to scoop up a handful of snow and smack Dustin upside the head with a throw straight out of his days in Little League.

“—I don’t need to apologize to that kid?” Billy raised his eyebrows.

“Uh, I mean, yeah, you needed to do that,” Steve grimaced.  “Uh, that—that was good.  I thought—I thought you, uh, he might piss you off, so I was kinda...listening.”

Billy shrugged.  “Kinda dumb of him to let me get him alone, really.  He knew you were there?”

“Yeah, he saw me,” Steve shrugged, making a face at his current snowball, before surveying the battlefield, and smacking it between Max’s shoulderblades.  “Uh, no, I mean.  I don’t know who all...saw the, um, the—” he stopped, feeling his face heat as he remembered the feeling of Billy’s cold hands against his neck and lower back, the stomach clench of so many eyes, and the heady spin and drop in Billy’s arms, half kiss, half roller coaster.  

“I’m such a moron,” Billy muttered.  “Why the hell aren’t they out here yelling at us?  I thought Will’d get them to the damn window.  Did it even work?”

“We can just talk to Mrs. Byers,” Steve ended on a yelp, imagining Hopper grabbing them by their hoods and shaking them, and telling them to get the hell out.  He was pretty sure Eleven had told the man something, but Billy’s tension had brought up thoughts of his calls to the Party’s houses going unanswered, and no more little nosy shits hanging around his car asking for rides.  Will’s mom telling him not to talk to the Byers’ family.  Nancy having to choose between her new boyfriend, and her new friend.  “Shit,” he mumbled.  “What if she’s pissed?”

Billy took a step towards him, then stopped.  “That didn’t—you didn’t think of that?!” he hissed.  “Jesus christ on a cracker, Harrington.”

Steve blinked at him, imagining the blue-sashed blond dude of sunday school crosslegged on a Saltine.  “What?”

“...it’s a good thing you’ve got a loyal advisor,” Billy whispered, shaking his head.

After a few minutes, Mrs. Byers wandered out, shivering, and yelled “Who wants waffles?!” and El shoved the whole armload of snow she’d been compacting into Max’s arms.  Max twisted her whole body to sling it around at Billy, who put his hands up into claws and roared at her, covered in snow, resulting in the hitherto-never-before-seen sight of Max Hargrove collapsing in giggles.  Lucas and Dustin stared at her as her knees bent, and she slowly collapsed forward to cackle into her arms, crouched in the snow up to her elbows.  

Mrs. Byers was still holding the flowers, frowning at them like she wasn’t sure how they’d ended up in her arms, but she waved at the table, set with Bert and Ernie paper plates and a can of whipped cream by each.  

“There...certainly will be enough whipped cream for everyone,” she said gamely, and Steve wondered which he’d pick, if a genie asked him—Mrs. Byers for his own mother, or Billy’s.  “Get in here,” she rolled her eyes, grinning.  “You’re all crazy, it’s freezing out here!”

“I know, Mom!” Will yelled, but lowered his voice to whisper to Billy and Steve as they sat down.  “Do you think she saw you?  Kissing?”

“Well, I’m not doing it again,” Billy whispered back, and Steve caught Hopper’s frown—he saw us, he thought, swallowing hard, and then Nancy grinned at him across the table.  

She was sitting with Jonathan at the card table, pushed close to extend the seating, and raised a glass of cider to Steve.  He nodded, his stomach clenching, and exchanged another smile with Mrs. Byers.  She can’t have seen, he told himself, as Will hovered around their chairs, telling Billy about losing all but his green marker for two days and drawing everybody in his class as an alien.  

“Right,” Billy narrowed his eyes at him.  “I haveta talk to you later, Ringbearer.”

Will beamed at him, grabbing his arm.  “The waffles aren’t done yet.  I can show you my room.”

The whole gathering watched little Will Byers drag Billy Hargrove off, chattering away.  

“Predators first cull the weak and the small,” said Dustin, and Nancy threw her paper plate at him, and missed.  

Jonathan tripped over the edge of the rug jumping out of his seat to run after them while Nancy’s plate was still rolling around the table on one edge.  Everybody else was still quiet, watching Billy and Will disappear, and Jonathan’s protective charge, so Steve groaned, extricated himself from all the chairs shoved together—smacking the back of Dustin’s head, for good measure—and ran after them.    

 Jonathan had his hand on Will’s doorknob when Steve grabbed it.  

“It’s okay,” he whispered.  “They get along.”

Jonathan stared at him, shaking his head, and Steve squeezed the other boy’s wrist tighter, shaking his head, as they listened to Will saying “And this one I drew you as Boromir.”

“...great,” Billy laughed, a little tense, then, warming Steve’s heart, he summoned up some enthusiasm and added, “—no, I mean, it’s great, really, what’s that, can I even see in that helmet?”, and touched off a lecture on 14th century armor from Will that nearly put Steve to sleep right there in the hallway.  Billy was actually asking questions, so it kept going, and Jonathan listened with his jaw set, then finally glared at Steve and folded his arms, waiting.  

“Okay, okay, short William,” Billy finally said, when Will paused for breath.  “We have to get our stories straight.”

Jonathan grabbed for the door again, eyes wide, and Steve grabbed his arms, wondering how many conversations he was going to end up eavesdropping on in one day.

“We do?” Will asked.  “Why?  Help me put these markers away before I lose them again—about what?”

“Yeah, okay,” something creaked, “—I, uh, I told Steve you threatened me, when—uh, I mean, like Dustin said he’d put sugar in the gas tank of my Camaro if I fucked it up with Steve, and your mom had some stuff to say—”

Will was giggling.  “What did my mom say?!”

“Too scary to repeat,” Billy shuddered audibly, and Will giggled harder.  “And she thought we were just friends, she’s gonna tie my balls to an anchor—”

Jonathan had stopped trying to open the door, in favor of just staring at Steve’s face in the dim light of the hallway.  Steve was trying to cover his laughter, his eyes stinging.

“Anyway, I got—Steve was—anyway.  I was telling him about it, and I said you did the same thing, so we have to—if he asks you, we should say the same thing—”

“Ohhhh,” Will said.  “I have to tie, um, I don’t think I want to, uh, tie your—”

“No!” Billy yelped, laughing.  “No, something else!”

“What should I threaten you with?” Will asked thoughtfully.  “I can’t just tell my mom, it should be different—”

Steve let go of Jonathan’s wrists to lean back against the wall, his shoulders shaking with snickers.

“You don’t actually have to threaten me—” Billy said softly, and it sounded like bedsprings squeaked.

“No, I should!” came Will’s voice.  “I should!”

“I guess if you want to,” Billy groaned.  “I mean, who doesn’t.”

“I should threaten you,” Will announced again.  “And Steve, right?  I’ll threaten Steve too.  Because you’re my friend.  I have to threaten Steve for you!”

“Okay, lil’ buddy,” Billy laughed, sounding fond.

Jonathan was cocking his head like a confused dog, squinting at Steve in the dim light of the hallway, and Steve just shook his head, trying to muffle his snickering.

“Oh!” Will muttered, and the floor stopped creaking as he held still.  “I should threaten Nancy, and uh, and Max, and Lucas—”

From the sound, Billy burst out laughing as hard as Steve was.  “You—you got a lot to do there, Midget William.”

“Maybe the same threat would work for everyone,” Will said plaintively.  “It’d be simpler.”

“Any thoughts?” Billy asked, through giggles.

“I could sneak in and peroxide your hair,” Will offered.  He sounded doubtful.  “I’d have to get my mom to buy peroxide.”

Steve slid down the wall, letting his head lean back against it and clapping both hands over his mouth.

Jonathan sighed and sat down across from him.  “Wait,” he mouthed, his whisper nearly silent.  “—you and Billy Hargrove?!”

Steve shrugged, still muffling giggles, and unable to care what Jonathan Byers thought about who he was dating.  Maybe Jonathan would get some sexy photos of Billy this time through the window, Steve thought, and snickered harder.

Jonathan stared at the wallpaper across the narrow hall, then shook his head.

“You bleach my hair and we’ll have a problem, Smalliam Byers,” Billy said, snorting.  “Besides, I’d wake up.  Steve would wake up.”

“Well, if you screw that up that bad, he won’t be there,” Will pointed out, giggling, “—what did you call me?!”

“Jesus, you’re brutal,” Billy muttered, his laughter sounding pained.  “There you go, there’s my punishment, waking up alone—”

“I’ll get embarrassing stories from Max, and tell him,” Will decided.  “I bet she knows some good ones—I’ll tell Steve all your dumb baby stories—”

Billy cackled harder, and Jonathan stood up, dusting himself off.  “Waffles are gonna be ready, and El will yell,” he whispered, glaring down at Steve, who blinked teary eyes up at him.

Steve nodded, wiping his eyes.  His cheeks hurt from smiling.

 When he rejoined the table, Dustin dropped into Billy’s seat next to him.  “Will’s mom didn’t notice,” he whispered.  “The hell was that, anyway?  Didn’t you see us all?”

Steve tried to think of a way to explain without explaining...Will Byers’ secret queer identity, he thought, trying not to snicker.  His internal voice took the opportunity to sound like Batman.  It must stay secret, or his family, and the world, could be in danger.  “Uh,” he started.  “...um, ah,” he tried again, crossing his arms, and wishing Billy would come back.  “A-animal instinct.  Love?  He’s horny,” he mumbled.  

“Those were options, Steve,” Dustin hissed, eyes narrowed.  “You don’t know which it is?  Anyway, Hopper might have seen you—”

When El shrieked “WAFFLES!” from the kitchen door, Billy wandered out, with Will trailing behind him telling all about ghost stories he could bring over for another sleepover.  Billy ruffled his hair, sidling around the crowded front room to kick the chair Dustin was sitting in.

“I wanna sit next to Billy,” Will told Mike, who’d sat next to Dustin while Billy was in the bedroom talking to Will.

“I sure don’t,” Mike made a face, relinquishing the seat with a shudder, and stepping around the table only to stagger as El threw both arms around his neck.  He laughed as she swung him around in a spin, chanting ‘waffles, waffles, waffles,’ and Hopper finally scooped her up, and plopped her in the chair closest to the kitchen, before helping Joyce bring out plates with a soft smile on his face.  

Billy frowned around, then stood again—the whole table paused to watch—before snorting a laugh and walking into the kitchen.  “Why don’t you go sit down?” he smiled charmingly at Joyce Byers.  “I can keep my nose to the forge in here, you’re juggling enough out there.”

She squinted at him, then looked over at Will, whose face looked torn between disappointment and excitement.  “Thank you!” she said, finally.  “But as soon as I’m done, I’ll let you have a break!”

Billy nodded, bending to stare into the waffle-iron at eye level.  Preparing to meet his foe, Steve thought, and then Joyce dropped into the seat between he and Will, handing them both oven-warm plates of waffles.  

“You sure seem to like him,” she said to Will, grabbing at one of the gajillion bottles of whipped cream El had placed around the table.  

“Um,” Will’s chair thumped as he swung his legs.  He bit his lip.  “Uh, he’s, um, he’s Steve’s friend.”

Steve widened his eyes at Will, hoping he’d realize he was acting like they’d started a crime ring on their sleepover weekend.

“He’s over a lot,” Steve said, digging into his waffle and smiling over with the casual smile guaranteed to make moms invite him to stay for dinner.  “They bonded over Lord of the Rings.”

“And music,” Will breathed, bouncing in his chair.  “He has rock music about the Lord of the Rings, Mom!”  

“And they’re both named William,” Steve rolled his eyes as Will nodded wildly.  

“We’re both named William, Mom!”

Will was talking into almost complete silence, as Hopper, Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Erica, Max, Eleven, Nancy, and Jonathan all considered Billy, who was burning a waffle.  He grabbed the smoky thing and threw it in the sink, tensed, and looked over at their silently watching faces.  “Sorry, ma’am,” he laughed.  “Not used to this waffle maker.”

“We made a whole fort in the front room and slept there,” Will continued stubbornly, cutting his waffle so the knife scraped loudly on his plate.  “Didn’t think it was dumb.  I didn’t have to say I can’t—sleep, sometimes.”

Oh, Steve thought, blinking.  That’s why he wanted us down there.

Billy’d started doing the dishes, which was probably loud enough to drown them out, and also why he’d gotten distracted enough to start subtly shuffle-dancing to the music in his head.  Hopper’s frown at him intensified, then turned on Steve.  

Steve tried to dodge his gaze, and looked the other way to find Nancy and Jonathan Byers’ eyes trying to burn a hole in his head.  He grabbed the whipped cream and began slowly coating his entire waffle in perfect rows.  

“...I’m glad you had a good time,” Joyce said, finally, exchanging glances with Will’s little goblin horde of friends.

“He helped Tomika and me get her cat out of a tree,” said Erica, and Mike choked.  Dustin slapped his back.  

“Tomika’s cat?!”  Mike spluttered.  “That’s not a cat, it’s—it’s a beast.  Slashing damage.  Roll a save against Fear.”

“Only for cowards,” Erica huffed.

“I don’t know what she thinks could hurt that cat.  It’s gonna die one day trying to fight a Mack truck,” Lucas sighed, and Erica punched him in the shoulder.

“Billy said he’d help us if we needed it, Lucas,” she hissed.

“Should have just left it in the tree,” Max filled her hand with whipped cream and licked it, and El stared, then stared at the whipped cream bottle.  Max caught El’s stare, and waved the bottle of whipped cream, watching Eleven’s head follow it.  Max grinned, and leaned close to fill El’s hands with whipped cream.  “I told Billy to run, if he saw them coming again.  He looked like he’d been mauled,” Max muttered, carefully putting a twirl around the top of El’s double handful of whipped cream. 

“Good,” Mike snorted, glancing at Lucas, who grimaced faintly.  

“Where the hell was I?!” Dustin glared at Steve.  “Your—uh, Billy meets a wolverine vigilante, and nobody calls me?!”

“No idea,” Steve sighed, remembering Lucas’ panic over his little sister alone with the boy who’d started punching him for no reason.  It was easier to focus on Billy now.  

Steve reminded himself about Tommy, and much easier it’d been, just pretending everything was okay, and going along with whatever dumb shit idea Tommy suggested.  It helped him resist wandering into the kitchen and just pushing Billy against the cupboards for a warm kiss that tasted like strawberries and apple cider.  

He beat me unconscious because I got in his way, Steve told himself, chewing the suddenly tasteless waffle.  There’s good inside him, Luke Skywalker, but there’s other stuff too.  He sighed, wishing he could—time travel, or something, back to before Billy stomped in and beat the shit out of him and terrified the kids—and maybe, he thought idly, before he spray-painted shit about Nancy all over town.  

“I fixed him up,” El told them, breaking Steve’s train of thought.  She beamed at Max, between surveying her hands full of whipped cream with the wide eyes of one given a priceless treasure.  “Nancy’s first aid book said you could use bread to bandage wounds, and I wanted to try it, but nobody had a sandwich.”

“Stick to gauze first,” Hopper laughed, pinching between his eyebrows.  “He rescued a cat out of a tree?” 

“Should have taken some photos,” Jonathan muttered to Nancy.  “Evidence.”

“I can testify for the court,” Max shot over, her eyebrows raised.

Steve was half torn between resigned annoyance that evidence of Billy’s few good actions was questioned, and longing for pictures of Billy wrangling tiny, hissing Marcenia Lyle Alberga out of the tree and stuffing her in his sweatshirt pocket for the climb down.  “Definitely happened,” he shrugged.  “That’s why he’s got band-aids on his fingers.”

“I did those too,” El told Hopper, for some reason.  “I know what to do.”  He waved her off, shaking his head and grinning.  

 At around this point, Billy brought everyone a refill on the waffles, and the kids opened every single bottle of sparkling cider, and Dustin smacked his lips, half-closing his eyes and saying, “1981.  It was a good year.”  

“To Hawkin’s resident Jedi,” Mike said, toasting Eleven, who narrowed her eyes and clinked her glass against his as Max toasted Lucas as Fastest Skateboard Rookie and he burst out laughing, grimacing and rubbing his elbows.  Max elbowed him companiably, and blushed.

“Very fruity on the palate,” Dustin declared, smirking.  Will giggled, and Mrs. Byers made a show of swirling her plastic cup.  

“Hold it on the roof of your mouth for a moment,” she said, in a bad French accent, “—then you will feel the flavor,” and Will cackled harder, covering his mouth so he didn’t spit cider.

When Billy sauntered out with more waffles, Will dubbed him “Most Honorable Cat Wrangler”, amist cheers, and Mrs. Byers stood back up to give him his seat next to Steve.  She walked back in the kitchen to exclaim “Oh, you didn’t have to wash everything.”

“I housetrained him!” yelled Max, and Dustin dubbed her the Great High Housetrainer.  Will flopped half into Billy’s lap, proclaiming him the Favored Lasagna Maker to the King in a flood of giggles.  

Nancy, then Jonathan, got up to offer help to Joyce clear the table, and Hopper began collecting plates, a spare fork behind his ear to stab every free-range strawberry segment scattered across the tablecloth and stick it in his mouth.

Steve, now officially the King Of Ceramic Monsters and Lord Nailbat, got up to pee after five cups of cider.  

He’d finished fixing his hair, and was just unzipping his pants, when he heard a thump and creak what sounded like inches away, and realized it was through the wall.  He frowned at it, extracting his dick from his briefs, to hear a horrible wet sound, like a garbage disposal full of slugs, and then, clearly, and inches away, Nancy’s voice saying “Um, mmm—uh, maybe less tongue?”

Steve clapped his hand over his mouth, hearing himself squeak.  He stared at the wall.

“You said you wanted it sloppy,” Jonathan replied, and Steve stared from the toilet, to the wall, taking a step away.  The floor creaked, and the squeaking of Jonathan’s ancient rusty bedsprings stopped.  

“Something creaked,” Jonathan whispered.  “Wait, wait, wha—what if that was Will—”

“They’re all busy cleaning up,” Nancy whispered back, and Steve held very still, wondering whether he could tiptoe outside, and pee on a tree, or whether he’d look up to see another lineup of children—probably holding up point cards, like Olympic judges were assessing his dick.  Yes, wait, he thought desperately.  Just let me take a piss and leave.

The noise started again, sucking and slurping.  Steve yanked his zipper back up, pressing his hand so hard over his mouth to muffle his laughter that he started seeing stars from lack of oxygen, and started to fear he’d pee down his own leg.  He inched to the door, and poked his head out to see a bunch of neon knit triangles—El’s sweater, he realized, right outside the door.  

“Aren’t you glad to be getting along better with him?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Max’s choked-up voice replied, and Steve pulled the door nearly closed again as she continued.  “I don’t—he’s such a prick, El!  He’s—he’s so goddamned mean, he’s always—now he’s just what, just nice now, and I’m supposed to trust him?”

Steve leaned against the sink, scrabbling at his newly-fixed hair.  Behind him, through the bathroom wall, the awful saliva-demon noise changed, and Nancy yelped.  “Why is that cold—” she hissed, and he wheezed into the back of his hand, shaking with suppressed giggles.  He wondered why Max and El couldn’t hear the horror going on through the wall—maybe Jonathan had blankets nailed to his door, or maybe they were just too caught up in talking about Billy.

“You don’t...you don’t have to be friends with him,” El offered, sounding uncertain, and Max laughed, sounding a little unhinged.  

“I know!  I know!  He’s—he’s a waste of space, but he—we were—”

Steve felt bad, leaning closer, but it helped drown out what sounded like a dog licking itself on the other side of the wall.  He plugged the ear facing what must be Jonathan’s bedroom.

“Was he...nice sometimes?” El asked, and Max stomped, growling.  

“I guess?” she hissed back.  “Yeah?  Sometimes he’d—give me skating advice, or—or he’d be mad, and Billy’d push me to the side like a shithead and—and draw the—draw—he’d get hurt.”  El was quiet, and Max’s voice got shakier.  “I didn’t—I don’t know what to do when Billy gets hurt.”

“I’ll save you,” El said, her voice low, and Steve couldn’t help smiling as he pictured her seeing the Batsignal, and grabbing her mask.  

“I don’t need saving,” Max said hoarsely, with a snort.  “My mom needs saving.  Billy needs—he could—I think he’s—”

“What?” El asked, sounding as confused as Steve was.

“I think he’s—pretending to be nice, for Steve,” Max whispered.  “He always—he’s good for a while, you know, he’s good in...stores, he’s nice if people are watching.  But then as soon as we’re alone—”

Even the sound of a loud bedspring creak, two squawks, a thud, and an explosion of giggles through the wall didn’t distract Steve from considering Max’s point.  

“But he’s been nice to Will,” Max went on, the floor creaked as she stomped in a circle, but Nancy and Jonathan were laughing too hard to hear.  “I just—how come he can keep it together for Will, y’know?  He never built me any goddamn pillow forts, this is to show off for Steve.”

“Maybe...maybe he wasn’t trying before,” El offered, and Max made kind of an awful noise, deep in her throat.  

“Yeah,” she whispered.  “I—I don’t think he was.  He—y’know, he took me once, out to a skate park.  He knew the skaters, it wasn’t just—he ignored me the whole time—but mom was upset because of something, and he’d been nasty to us all day, and Billy—he grabbed me, and he hauled me off to the skate park.  It was—I thought he—”

“I will take you to the skate park,” El told her, and Max laughed, sniffling.  “When you are sad.  Billy can come if he’s nice to you.  If you want him there.  I will take you to the skate park.”

Max’s sniffling sounded wetter.  “I-I’ll teach you to do flips.  I—we could—get you a board—Billy’s old one—”

“I could ask for one,” El said.  “Do you want another waffle?”

“I never want to eat waffles again,” Max laughed, making gulping noises.  “I’m so sick of waffles, El.”

“...I—we could—I—” El stumbled under this new load of information, and Max giggled harder.  

“I’m not hungry, El.  Let’s—let’s go back.  Let me blow my nose.”  

At this, she pushed the door to the bathroom open, clonking it into Steve’s knee, and he scrambled back, holding his finger over his mouth and pointing to the wall, through which came clearly the sound of Nancy and Jonathan reading a love poem, in unison.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve whispered, as Max laughed so hard she had to lean against the bathroom counter.  

“Oh my god,” she whispered back.  “How long have you been stuck in here?!”

“Blow your nose,” he held out a handful of toilet paper.  “It’ll sound just like their kissing.”

“Were you listening to them?” El asked under her breath, frowning as Nancy and Jonathan started kissing again.  

“I didn’t want to,” he hissed back.  “I was trying to pee—”

“Hurry up,” Nancy’s voice came through the wall, and Jonathan said “It’s a really small room, okay—”, and Max and Steve’s eyes met in horror.

“Heeeeellllp,” Max wheezed, snickering.  She grabbed El’s arm in one hand, and Steve’s in the other, and drug them out of the bathroom and down the hall, back into the kitchen/dining part of the trailer.  “Oh my god, what was that—”

 “Harrington,” Billy said, seated at the dinner table with his face a little too blank, as his little sister drug Steve into the front room.  “Where’ve you been,” he hissed, as Steve dropped into the seat next to him, registering the general silence.  The sounds of giggling and screaming came from out front, in the snow, and Billy had been alone in the Byers’ front room with Hopper and Joyce.  

“So you’re staying at Steve’s house,” Joyce was saying.  She and Hopper had matching frowns, and folded arms.

Max looked from the two of them to her brother, and rubbed her face.  She groaned.  “Who wants to snowball fight,” she asked joylessly.  “Billy, last one outside is...a soggy waffle.”

“Thank you,” he hissed, laughing unevenly, the cider cup in his hand twitching towards her in a weak toast.  He stood, glancing at the door, but froze at Mrs. Byers’ voice.  

“Wait,” she said, and Billy dropped back into the chair with a shaky sigh.  “Steve’s parents are okay with that?” she continued, underailable.  

“They’re fine,��� Steve told her, resisting the urge to squirm like a toddler who has to potty.  “Can we—”

“But you’re the—” she frowned at Hopper, then Billy again.  “You are the one who showed up and started the fight?  Broke my dishes?”

Billy nodded, glancing at Hopper.  His shoulderblades hit the back of his chair, and he twitched.  “Yes ma’am.”

“Why?!” Mrs. Byers flailed her arms, and Billy stared past her.

“It was unacceptable,” he said.  Steve slid his hand over and squeezed Billy’s knee, and he jerked, shooting a startled frown back at Steve.  “There was no good reason, ma’am.  I apologize, and it will never happen again.” 

Hopper crossed his arms, backing all the way away to the far wall and turning to frown out the window, and Billy’s gaze flicked after him, then back to Joyce, who was squinting at him, her arms hovering in midair.  Billy’s shoulders relaxed, a little.

“What?” Joyce asked, frowning from Steve’s face to Hopper’s back.

Max wandered over and lingered by the door with El, both of them looking torn.

“I can make it up to you,” Billy told the wall behind Joyce.  “I can replace the plate.  I can—” he cut off, gasping a shuddery breath as Hopper turned to face them.

“You got a couple more boys on call if you have any chores need doing,” Hopper said to Mrs. Byers, and Steve willed her to say that was fine.  Billy tensed again every time Hopper talked, and Steve wanted to reach over and squeeze his hand even more than he wanted to use a goddamn toilet.  

“Sorry we made a mess,” he said quickly, trying to extract Billy, instead of thinking about his bladder.  “We, um, there was a lot happening—”

Joyce Byers wasn’t stupid, and her eyes were widening as she watched Billy twitch every time Hopper moved.  

“You’re...staying with Steve,” she said again, looking over at Hopper, who nodded.  

“It’s fine,” Steve told her, swallowing.  “He and Will, um, they—they get on, they have—stuff to talk about,” he said, clumsily trying not to mention what he was coming to think of as the gay thing, but Joyce Byers seemed to get something else out of his rambling, because she sat down across from them.

“Will doesn’t have a lot of people he wants to talk to,” she said, reaching toward Billy’s hands on the table, then yanking her hands back and folding them together.  “If—if he’s found somebody that he has—things—in common—”

“Lonnie is a piece of work, but you got Will out of there,” Hopper said, and Steve blinked, wondering who the hell that was.  “Your kids got lucky.”

“Oh, oh no,” Joyce said, for whatever reason, and Steve couldn’t take it anymore.  

He stood up, squeezing Billy’s shoulder.  “We haveta go now,” he said, unable to resist the call of his bladder, or return to the Byers’ bathroom.  

“You boys are welcome anytime,” Joyce said, leaning to catch Billy’s eye.  

He frowned at her, but nodded.  “Just tell me what you want me to do,” he told her, and she leaned forward across the table, grabbing his hands.  

“Honey,” she said, staring Billy down, “—you make my kid way too happy for me to care about a plate.  Okay?”  Her hands looked tiny and white against Billy’s big tanned ones.  “You too, hon,” she said louder, frowning over at Max, who frowned warily.  Joyce smiled a little sadly.  “Have your mom give me a call, sweetie.”

Billy had kind of...frozen, and Steve kneed him in the side, hoping his engine would engage.  

“Come on, trespasser, we’re going.”

“Come again next time,” Mrs. Byers said, squeezing Billy’s hands, and smiling up at Steve.  

Steve, as ever when faced with somebody’s mom, fought down the urge to suggest they just stay.  Probably Billy was a better cook than Jonathan.  Steve was a better babysitter.  She probably doesn’t mean forever, he told himself, smiling.  She didn’t mean ‘I’ll keep you’.  “Billy can make lasagna,” he said instead, and Billy glared up, his cheeks reddening.  He hadn’t pulled his hands back from Mrs. Byers’, and Steve watched her pat them, like she had Will’s, after she took off his little snow-covered gloves.  

Billy watched her hands with the weird blank look he got sometimes, and Steve leaned against his side, trying to remind him he was there.

“Everyone likes lasagna,” Mrs. Byers told Billy, and his eyes flicked back to her face.  “Would it be evil of me to trade on my broken plate to get some lasagna?”

“No,” Max answered, from the door.  “Billy, make Will’s mom some lasagna.  You broke her plate.”

“He doesn’t have to!” Mrs. Byers protested, and Billy snorted a laugh, watching her hands again, and shooting a wary glance at Hopper.

“No, I—I can do that.  Uh, Will likes it.  Lasagna.”

“There!” Mrs. Byers squeezed Billy’s hands again, and looked over at Hopper.  “Aren’t I lucky he broke a plate?  Now I get lasagna.”  

Hopper shook his head, then met Steve’s eyes.  He jerked his head at the door, smiling, and Steve sighed with relief.  

“What’s lasagna,” El whispered to Max, sounding suspicious.

“Seriously,” Steve said, “—we need to go, uh, can we—I need to—”

“Oh, hey,” said Max.  “Can you drop me close to my house?  Like, a ways away—”

“We didn’t talk about—” El frowned at Hopper.

“I think we talked enough,” he said, nodding at Billy, who was letting Steve haul him to his feet, but hadn’t tried to pull away from Joyce Byers.

“Too many people here anyway,” said Max, rubbing her eyes, and El squeezed her hand.  

“I will go with Max,” she told Hopper, who opened his mouth, narrowed his eyes at Max’s red-splotched face, and nodded.  

“See you at home, kid,” he waved, then turned his glower on Steve and Billy.  “Treat your cargo with care,” he said, and Joyce laughed.

Once they got outside, Steve took a deep breath.  “Holy fucking christ I have to pee.”

Billy and Max both burst into snickers, white-faced and shiny-eyed, and Lucas hailed Max.  El shoved Max towards Lucas, then turned to stop Billy with a hand on his chest.  

“What do you need for skateboarding,” she asked, without it sounding like a question.  “For Max.”

“Uh,” he blinked at her.

“When Max was sad once, you took her skateboarding.  She liked it,” El told him, and he lowered his eyes, biting his lips.

“Really have to pee,” Steve hissed at them.  

“It’s snowing,” Billy told El.  “There’s nowhere—”

“So, a roof,” she said, unmoving, and crossed her arms.

“Uh,” Billy frowned, stroking his mustache.  “There’s not much around.  Even if we broke into the gym, it’s just a big empty room—”

“Nancy could break in again,” El said, folding her arms, and Billy blinked at her.

“The princess broke into the gym?” he asked, and Steve remembered he needed to sit his boyfriend down, sometime, and tell him the whole story.  

Sometime his bladder wasn’t about to explode.  “I’m about to make yellow snow,” Steve hissed, and Billy shoved his shoulder.  

“Go in the bushes, your majesty, nobody’s watching!”

“What if Mrs. Byers sees my dick,” Steve asked, crossing his arms, but Billy pushed him again, so he stumbled off into the darkening twilight.  He crouched in a bush, hoping he didn’t get poison ivy, and watched Billy and El talk seriously, both nodding, and looking over at Max.