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qianoir · 3 years ago

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After Midnight 2 - Rhiannon

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: college dropout!Ten (WayV) x fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: non-idol au, angst with fluff on top

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 13+

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing (censored), lying, family problems, mentions death of reader's father, romance, this part determines the reader’s age but feel free to ignore

♡ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @staysstrays

Preview < 1 < 2

𝟏𝟎:𝟎𝟎 𝐀𝐌

Should I call him? No! What if it wasn't meant for me? Idiot, there was no one else in the café of course it was meant for you! What if it's a prank? It's probably the number to a McDonald’s or something. And if it's not..? What if he never comes into the café again?

You woke up in a freezing cold room with an acquainted boy named "Ten Lee" on your mind, contemplatively staring into his napkin before finally deciding to text him.

You typed the 11 digits into your phone.

Ok... now what do I say?

Hi Ten, this is Y/N from Décalcomanie.

Hi Ten, this is Y|

Why do I even care about this so much? It's just a text and for all I know this kid could be some kind of siren-vampire trying to seduce me with song lyrics at nighttime.. is that even possible?

Hi Mr. Lee this is Y/N from Décalcomanie.

Why so formal? Oh God I sent it..

It’s done.

You grabbed a towel and prepared a quick shower before continuing the rest of the morning. Intruding thoughts about Mr. Lee fill your mind under the water.. like.. why does he only visit the café at night? Your prior superstitious suspicions about him being a vampire fall back in mind.

At least if I get to be a vampire I can live this timeline as a doctor and make my mom happy, then be a dancer for eternity.

As much as you did not know about Ten, you still knew quite a bit about him. His favorite combination at the café is an iced Americano with pandan cake, his favorite color is black— you assume since it's the only color his outfits consist of, and he has a younger sister, which you found out after hearing him say 妹妹 over the phone one night.

The loud text notification sounds throughout the bathroom and you nearly slip trying to quickly finish your shower to check the new message.

Mom (Work)

My daughter! Your grandmother is sick, I am going to Incheon to bring her medicine and groceries so I need you to open the café today. I should be back to take over at 2 o’clock. Be careful on your own!

Unwrapping your body of your towel to dress into a nice outfit, you sighed knowing your Saturday would be another day spent on your sore feet. The café opens at 11 AM so you would only be working an extra few hours, but you hoped your mom would let you take a slice of delicacy home for the filial overtime.

“Aya!”

Another loud notification tone beamed from your phone, forcing your name brooch to prick at your fingertip. The screen luminated with an unknown number.

Contact Not Found

hihi Y/N! no need to be so formal with me! I'm only from ‘96 :)

Contact ‘TEN’ Added

TEN

are you free today? I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee and ice cream, if you're not sick of the smell yet ;p

You frowned remembering the plans your mother made for your day.

Y/N

I'm so sorry Ten my mom wants me to work opening for the café today :(

Figuring that was your ending, you packed a bag full of necessities for the day and walked to Décalcomanie.

TEN

why don't I come over there? the café serves bingsoo this time of year right? it’s barely the afternoon, not many people will be dining. we could still hang out if you’re down?

Butterflies soared in your stomach just like they do every night at 11:59 PM.

Y/N

Yeah that sounds perfect :)

TEN

okk see you soon!

Eek!

It felt so weird to think of seeing him in the daytime, especially after just mentally accusing him of being a bloodsucker.

Upon your entrance, the café was soon bright with morning light and you patiently awaited Ten’s arrival. Nearly an hour had gone by and there was no sign of him. You didn't think he would flake out, but you barely know each other so why wouldn't he?

Ten was right; it was pretty empty here this morning. You bent forward to hand one of the regular old women her tea in the Décalcomanie’s prettiest teacup upon your mother’s request of the best service for all of her regular customers.

The bell chimed with an open door. Your eyes blinked to the woman's upturned phone by her saucer.

𝟏𝟏:𝟓𝟗 𝐀𝐌

Could it be? You laughed at the irony in the thought, but when you looked up from the woman’s table, a rice cake cheeked boy stood across from you.

"I'm here!" He announced to the entire floor.

You bowed a greeting like you do for every customer and ushered him to the bar, "Sit down over here." where he sat in front of your standing form. "What type of bingsoo have you come in for, sir?" You teased.

"Coconut with vanilla ice cream! And.. two spoons?"

You blushed at the thought of sharing subtle intimacy with the fine young man before your eyes. You had only just met him, but you saw no harm in sharing a dessert with him as you would do with friends.. if you had them.

Nodding and running off to make the icy dessert, you heard the ripple of a writing pen. From the corner of your eye, peeked Ten orchestrating an English poem onto a stray napkin, his brown bangs falling on the bridge of his nose. These little actions made your heart jump; his passion for various styles of music felt so endearing to you.

You paid for the grandiose bowl of sugar and presented it to Ten. His phone lit up with a notification and you took notice of his wallpaper: Him with a disgusted looking boy that he was French kissing on the cheek. I'm not judging but.. whomst?

"Who's that?" You asked, handing him a spoon, taking another for yourself.

He glanced at his phone and blushed, breaking out in quiet giggles.

"That's my friend, Yangyang. We really enjoy our time together."

You hummed and smiled. They seem to have a good friendship, but you were still curious to know more about this Yangyang guy.

"So you attend university?" Ten asked before shoveling a high spoon of ice flakes into his mouth.

"I'm a sophomore at SNU." You replied, mirroring his bold eating style.

Ten spoke with surprised eyes, "Really!? That's a fancy school. Wow～ you must be really smart."

"Not really.. I'm studying dance. All I do is move my feet."

"I'm a dancer, too! It's a really hard and beautiful art, you shouldn't sell yourself short for being a part of it." He genuinely advised.

You looked down after thanking him for his kind words, suddenly feeling very bashful. "How old are you, by the way? You calling me Mr. Lee this morning is all I've been thinking about." You both laughed.

"I'm 20, turning 21 this year.” He nodded. "You're from ‘00? Yangyang is the same age as you!" He exclaims.

"I’ve never met someone my age! How many friends do you have?"

"I have a few, but I’m closest to a specific six and we all live together."

"It must be nice to have so many friends. It’s been a little difficult for me to make friends this semester.." You stirred some melted ice cream around your side of the bowl, suddenly feeling very lonely in Ten’s personal presence.

"You should come over sometime! We love new friends!" He was pleading with his eyes for you to agree.

"Oh.. I don't want to intrude-" "No really! We would love to have your company. Here..." He flipped over the napkin he was previously writing on and scribbled a short address on it, sliding it over to you.

"You should come by tomorrow evening. 5 o'clock if it works for you." Ten says before finishing off the last bit of flavored dairy in the bowl.

You scanned over the inked napkin in your hand.

97 Saemunanro, Sinmunno 1 il-ga, Jongnogu, Seoul

"It's apartment number 117. Just call me when you get there because we may not be able to hear your knocks over the screaming." You looked at him in slight concern, but he only smiled in return.

Ten took out his card to pay for the bingsoo, but you stopped him. "Oh I already paid for the both of us!"

"Aww you didn't have to," Ten frowned, but handed me $20 anyways, "Here take this at least. A tip for my favorite barista." He winked and ran out of the café before you could protest.

"REMEMBER 5 O'CLOCK!"

Ten shouted, bumping into a man, who cursed at him, profusely bowing on the way out. You shook your head at his silliness and flipped the napkin over to a pretty poem.

She is like a cat in the dark and then

she is the darkness

She rules her life like a fine skylark

and when the sky is starless

To Be Continued…

Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac

𝘲𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘳

#wayv x reader #ten x reader #nct x reader #wayv imagines #wayv angst #wayv fluff #ten imagines #ten angst #ten fluff

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heresathreebee · 3 years ago

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Brackish and Briny Waters (two)

[Ralph Lamont X Female Reader]

Summary: Settling into your new house Part 1 Masterlist Part 3

Tags: +17 | 1.7k words | just really fucking domestic stuff, one (1) bad attitude, presumptuous behavior, unprotected morning sex, more remodeling.

AN: I kind of know where I'm going with this. The conflict will be subtle at first but it's there I promise.

The first day goes by fast and for Ralph meeting every single person on staff in this prestigious school was like trying cheeses and wines in a vineyard– fun at first but you get a stomach ache because somebody forgot to tell you not to swallow and there are just so many of them each more rich than the last. By the time he crosses the threshold to his new home, he's exhausted and annoyed.

"I told you not to unpack without me."

You look at him from the kitchen and shrug. "I needed stuff, baby. I already wrote a list of things to work on in this 'bare bones' house you put us up in and I was bored."

You don't care for his attitude but offer him the covered plate anyways. "I saved you some dinner."

All at once, Ralphie's anger melted from his face. He shuffled his tired feet across the still empty living room and pulled you into his side. The plate was warm (still warm or recently warmed up, he couldn't tell) and his stomach growled.

"M sorry," he said, "I don't mean to be an asshole."

You smile your forgiveness. "Long day?"

"Yes," he hisses. "I already can't wait for the weekend."

You chuckle. "Oh come on, it can't be that bad. Give it a chance, baby!"

"As you wish."

After eating, Ralph is right to sleep despite his insistence you finish packing together tonight. A part of you thinks it's the climate here– fresh sea salt air and less artificial light to disrupt the body's natural sleep patterns. You took off his shoes and empty his pockets because he was just 'resting his eyes for a moment,' then slid in right next to him. He's fine without a blanket, but you pull the back of the quilt over your rear and curl into his side. Sleep comes easier tonight than last night and you dream of wallpaper and wood smoke cologne.

DAY THREE

The rest of the week gets easier for the both of you. You arrived on Monday and unpack the bigger furniture together by Wednesday with the help of some locals. Ralph is getting to study the lesson plan for Ms. Lewis' math class and establishing a gentle authority with his temporary students. He is still excited for the weekend, intent to help you figure out what to do with the walls of the house.

"Has anybody come to see you at the house yet?," he asks you Thursday night.

You pause dicing onions to think. "Besides the neighbors to the north and those Vayle boys? No."

Ralphie raises his eyebrows and drops them, an involuntary gesture made more for himself than you.

You put a hand on your hip. "Why?"

Ralphie waves you off and continues mixing the meat with the spices. "Nothing. It's just everybody and their fucking moms has been asking me about you."

"What?" This was news to you. "Why?"

"Because they're nosy," he replies, "asking me about my whole life story and I let slip I had a wife and then they just wouldn't shut up about it."

You swat his shoulder. "Well don't sound so depressed about it. Do you not like having a wife?"

"No!" Ralph huffs and turns to look at you as he says, "I just hate that every single one of them bugs me about a million personal things and then I mention you and it's the only thing they can talk about now."

Ralph turns back to stirring the pan and grumbles to himself, "might tell them to fuck off and just hoard you forever…"

It clicks in your head at least a bit. Ralph's a born and bred city kid. In the city nobody cares who you are, what you like, or where you're from. Strangers don't want to be anything more than strangers. Their eternal social motto is 'don't waste my time' and anyone who acts differently is probably scheming something.

You chuckle and rest your chin on his shoulder. "You're forgetting these are a different breed of people. Rich and educated socialites more over but suburban, maybe even rural. We're probably the first new thing to happen to them in decades, and communities like this don't have a 'mind your business and I'll mind mine' attitude."

Ralphie flicks you a look but you know he knows you're right. It doesn't mean he has to like it but at least he understands it's not malicious, at least not inherently. It's out of his element, a little out of yours too, but you'll have to adapt and play by their rules if you want to stay here for a while.

The dining room table can seat six, but your Ralphie takes a seat right next to you at a corner so he can hold your hand while you eat. Homemade tacos ease your apprehensions a bit and you go over the remodeling plans with him until midnight. Getting ready to sleep, you wear your thinnest shift and wrap around him like an octopus, your warm core brushing over his barely clothed manhood in temptation.

Ralphie hums, tucking a stray hair back into your bonnet. "We need to get up early tomorrow."

It's a weak protest. The two of you keep rocking into each other and sighing at the feeling of friction but eventually fall asleep despite the delightful buzz of sexual energy surrounding you. You do wake up when Ralph flips you under him and sucks a few marks into your neck.

You spread your legs to accommodate his breadth, feeling him settle deliciously and glancing at the bedside clock. It's barely 5 o' clock and the sun is rising. You gasp as you feel Ralphie's cock slide into you and he's met with little resistance. You two have sex for the first time since you moved and it's been so long that the affair is short lived.

Ralph already has an apology on his lips but you shush him and come a moment later with your fingers brushing your clit in tandem. He peppers you with a dozen more kisses as silent promises to make it up to you.

You shower together, barely bumping elbows as this bathroom is way bigger than your New York City apartment ever was. You chat idly about the weekend and the town and when you're ready to leave, you grab the manila folder where you store the plans for the remodel. You've even got samples from the wallpaper, only taking the ones you like and want to replace.

"I know we probably won't find exact replicas but I want to at least find something similar."

Ralph squeezes your thigh. "Ok, ok. We'll try."

While this town doesn't have a McDonald's (the town over does and it's fancy for some reason), it does have a Home Depot (also pretty fancy). You know you'll need wood and screws and glass panes to finish that solar room but that's not the goal for today.

Ralph skips right over the green paint swatch section to the creams. He's rambling about paint brand pros and cons, he did his research on the way in since you were driving and he brought the book from the school library. You follow and half listen.

"What?"

Ralph finally catches on to your soft smile. You glance around to make sure no one is in earshot because god forbid these gossipers over hear your conversation right now.

"I guess I got you pretty excited last night, huh," you say with a sense of pride. Ralph feels the opposite about his performance this morning.

"I just… I think it's just been a while." He occupies his hands by grabbing every single free swatch sample on the shelf and says, "I promise I will make it up to you."

You roll your eyes in a not unkind way. "It's fine, babe, really. I uh… it feels kind of good to know I still have that kind of effect on you…"

Ralphie sports a smile of his own and puts you under his arm. "Of course you do, sugar."

He leans down to plant a kiss on your lips when you're interrupted by a bright voice. It's so startling that your husband bounces away from you. He stares wide eyed at the woman who interrupted you and he gets that dark look in his eye that only you can see.

"Jesus, Julie," he tries his best not to growl her name. "This is Julie, she's a teacher at the school. Julie this… is… my wife."

Julie makes a noise like a whistle. "Oh my god you are so much more beautiful than I imagined! Ralph doesn't have a picture of you in his office!"

"It's on my desk," he huffs, "it's the one turned towards me."

"And why would you do that?"

"...so I can look at it while I work…?"

Julie's… a little too hands on for just meeting you. You're too reserved to say something about it so you sling a loose arm around her back and hope Ralph doesn't say something for you.

"Hi Julie, it's nice to finally meet you," you tell her. "Ralph's been slowly but surely introducing me to the concept of his coworkers."

"I can't believe we haven't met before now! Ralph keeping you all to himself, me and the other teachers are just so curious about you," she coos. It feels almost put on, like overindulging in sweet to play up her first impression. You let it slide though, maybe it's just your city lens.

"Well, uh, once we've got the house fixed up a bit, we can plan a housewarming party," you suggest. "But not a day before and you may quote me on that, miss!"

Julie laughed and gave you her phone number 'in case you need anything at all.' Ralph breathed easy once she finally left and you tug his ear gently. "She's veeerry friendly."

Ralphie shoots you a glare like you'd made a joke he didn't find funny and you go back to debating the paint to use for your walls eagerly.

@escape-your-grape @hoodoo12 @softbeej @go-commander-kim @beetlesstuff @imma-fucking-nerd @werwulfy

#three bees writing #smut #🐝🐝🐝✒#Ralph Lamont #ralph lamont x reader #alex brightman #black reader insert

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sh1tbird-shantytown · 4 years ago

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What’s with the Goats, Steve?

Billy had never actually been in the Harrington house. But he knew what the rest pretty much looked like. The red door, the rectangle windows, the big shed by the pool that held exercise equipment. The outside of house was chic. It was clean and well trimmed and pigmented. Something a wealthy boy like Steve would assumingly live in. Billy knew it all on the outside. But he’d never been inside the house. No matter how many times he’d dropped Steve off after their shifts at work. He’d never been invited in. And contrary to popular belief, Billy wasn’t one to normally barge into someone’s home without reason.

He was aware of the key under the little blue gnome out back. How Steve himself had started the little petunia garden out front. How the pool was cleaned but closed off and Steve wouldn’t even look at it. He even knew about the rabbit Steve had had as a little kid that was buried under the pine tree sapling. He also knew that the bunny’s name had been Checkers.

Steve was a talker what could he say. If you’d listen he’d babble on and on. Billy could be the same way, but listening to Steve Harrington’s fond memories was a little more to his liking. Oddly.

But recently the BMW had been in some nasty encounter with a buck and was, so far, permanently parked in the Harrington’s driveway with a shattered windshield and craters in the hood. He swore one of the headlights hung out slightly too.

Steve had been distraught for days. Billy had to actually ask Dustin to help them revive Steve’s dopey side. Not to mention how the thing had already begun to run out of luck after so many days of carpooling the kids and rolling over stray demodogs. So, Billy and Robin picked him up when he needed to be somewhere. It was mostly to and from work and it was usually Billy even though Robin and Steve worked at the same place.

By this point Billy was sure Robin already knew what was up. Billy knew he wasn’t subtle. But Steve was also very...dense. And he also couldn’t tell when a person was interested apparently. His technique throughout life had always been 1.) tease and flirt 2.) hope for good a response 3.) ask out 4.) relationship. While Billy’s had always been 1.) flirt 2.) wait for them to flirt back 3.) wait for them to make the next move and 4.) take it from there.

Billy had been making light and flirtations notions all week and Steve gave them right back with vigor. But it was taking Steve an awful long time to take the next step. Billy didn’t think he’d be able to do it himself. Didn’t want to lose what he had if things shifted the wrong way. Steve was just about the best friend Billy had ever had.

Billy stopped in front of Steve’s driveway per usual on a warm and breezy spring day in April.

Steve looked at his house and then back at Billy with a contemplative look to his eye, “You gonna drive up the rest of the way?”

Billy stared back blankly, “You can’t walk?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I did track, give me some credit.” Billy shook his head and then swerved into the driveway, Steve just barely missed hitting his head on the window. He then leaned back in the car right after stepping out, “Uh, wait.” Billy felt slightly disappointed about being in front of Steve in that brief moment. “I thought I mentioned us hanging out today—“

“Mentioning and asking aren’t the same thing, Harrington,” Billy reminded. He did this often. Steve would say the most generic things, a mere flutter of words in a conversation, but would then take it to heart and you’d be slammed with sudden plans. Just the other day he’d said he was hungry and then twenty minutes later Billy had been forced into driving them to the Dairy Queen outside of town.

“Oh come on,” Steve whined and pulled at Billy’s leather jacket sleeve, “We both have tomorrow off finally! You can sleep over, it’ll be fun. You’re fun, Billy, let’s have fun, come on.” He gave one last tug and then exited the car. Based on the speed he spoke and the uncontrollable smile Steve had, Billy could tell something was up. But it was also cute and Billy was a sucker when Steve was like that. Unfortunately Steve was almost always cute so there wasn’t much of a win win sort of thing.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” he put the car in park, grabbed the key, and jogged after Steve. Steve unlocked the door in a rush with the jangle of his own set of keys. Before he opened the door he turned back with his hand in the handle.

“Oh, I should probably warn you, um...” Steve bit his lip and glanced at the door. Billy was laser-focused on that magenta, plush lip and then...there was yodeling. Yodeling?

Billy looked at the door in shock, “Harrington, what was that?” Instead of answering Steve turned the doorknob and gestured to two goats galloping towards them. One had a fully black, silky coat while the other was spotted like a cow. Their little, blunt horns worried Billy so he stepped in front of Steve a little swing of motion. The goats skidded to a stop straight in front him and just stared up.

“I think they like your hair,” Steve commented over his shoulder. The animals were, in fact, staring at Billy’s head. He stepped around and Billy had to stop himself from pulling him back just in case. Steve picked up the spotted goat and started rubbing its back. “Billy,” he lifted the goat up to Billy’s focus, “This is Joe. He loves chewing shirts so heads up. And this,” Steve let the submissive goat go and picked up the other one, “Is Remy,” he scratched the white spot of fur between the horns gently. “She likes buttercups and gnawing on hair especially so watch your head. She’s a jumper.” As of to prove his point Remy licked Steve’s chin and leaped down from Steve’s loose hold with impressive height.

For a lack of better words Billy asked in awe, “What’s with the goats, Steve?”

Harrington rubbed the back of his neck and let out a sort of giggle, “Well. I got lonely after Starcourt and the doctor said that a pet might help me with the PTSD or...something.” Suddenly Steve was sitting on the floor with the two goats at either side awaiting his attention. “And some farmer was getting rid of the runts for fifteen bucks each! So I took these two, the last of ‘em.” Now Billy knew Steve was sugar coating some of those details.

He wasn’t just lonely after Starcourt. Robin had explained a few things that triggered Steve’s fight or flight responses. Things Steve himself would never think to tell. Billy couldn’t handle the sight of rats or tar. And the smell of bleach made him vomit instantly. Steve knew that all. But Robin was the one to sit down and tell Billy how Steve couldn’t have his hair pulled. Or the sight of needles made him horribly nauseous. And he got close to chronic migraines, specifically in the colder weather.

Billy knew Steve intentionally never mentioned the time Billy had found him with his bat prowling the junkyard. Or the woods on the southwest side of Hawkins. Or when Mike had found Steve stumbling on a route to check on all of them. Billy had had to pick him up from the Wheeler’s because he was so paranoid and fatigued that no one could calm him. But Billy had become an expert at bundling Steve Harrington in their sort of affection. It was the sharp kind that made things go back to mostly normal.

Billy sat down too, maybe a little too close. But who was counting? Billy understood though, “Been having trouble sleeping again?”

Steve sighed forlornly, “Yeah,” he answered stoutly. Billy hesitantly stroked Joe’s side as the goat inched closer and Remy nuzzled into Steve’s side.

“I better get dinner out of this,” he teased and looked at Steve.

That damn smile.

“How long have you had them?”

“About four weeks but they’re eight weeks old,” Steve smoothed down the fluffed up white fur that bunched up behind Remy’s ears.

“They spend all their time inside?”

Steve looked almost offended, “God, no. I built a little coral outside for them in the morning and in the evening. I only keep them inside when I’m not here and the weather’s bad or at night. The weatherman had said that it was going to rain ‘cats and dogs’ today.” He quoted with his fingers and looked dispraisingly at the big sliding doors that could be seen through into the living room.

Joe made a disruptive, ear sore of a ‘baah’ and climbed into Billy’s lap. Rather invasively. Billy, for fear of the kid loosing balance, hugged him securely in place. The dull horns dug into the underneath of his jaw annoyingly but the softness of the animal’s shiny coat was enough to suffice. Steve tilted his head as he watched this go by and grinned with a softness Billy had associated clouds with as a child.

“I think he likes you,” Steve stated proudly.

Billy let himself smirk as he rubbed down Joe’s back, “He’s alright too.”

Steve was silent for a minute and then he stood up, Remy galloping after him, “I’ll start supper while you go wash up. You’ve got grease and ketchup on your shirt and I think that’s lettuce in your hair.” Billy’s hand flicked up to his head to feel for the referred invader.

He found it and threw it, Joe scurried after it attentively, “The diner was busy today,” he excused himself. Steve pointed to a blue door on his way to the kitchen. Billy entered through it to walls filled with powder blue wallpaper flowers. It smelt like cinnamon and the walk-in shower had little navy colored tiles. Billy stared at the citrus shampoo and conditioner lined up on the little shelf in the shower. Steve’s hair smelt like citrus. Abundantly most of the time and Billy sometimes lost himself in the aroma. God he was done for. The guys hair sent him to his knees practically. It was mortifying.

He showered quick and when he stepped out from the foggy glass box he found a yellow Hawkins High sweatshirt and soccer shorts. Billy furrowed his brow before putting on the shorts. “Didn’t know Steve had played soccer,” he mumbled to himself before tugging the long string in the front. When he exited the bathroom and slowly searched for the kitchen doorway, he listened to what Steve was saying to his goats.

“I think he went a little overboard on the soaps. It smelt like a lemon meringue pie in there. Or maybe it always smells like that. Joe, don’t eat the lemon grass, that’s to go with the chicken!” Billy peaked in and watched as Steve chased Joe around the island while the goat kept a sprig of green in his mouth. Steve had a pink and black polkadot apron on that flapped as he jogged. Joe went to escape the room but Billy crouched and grabbed him in one fluid motion. When he stood up Steve forcefully came to a halt just in front of Billy. Steve’s brown eyes were sparking orbs. Billy blinked and grasped the lemongrass, waiting for the black goat to slacken his jaw.

“Here,” he held the herb up and Steve carefully took it, holding a bit of Billy’s own hand as he did so and pulled it away slowly. Steve smiled thankfully, gently flicked Joe’s nose, and returned to his cutting board where he continued slicing the chicken cutlets. Billy asked to help and Steve seemed to grow excited. “Oh, you can work on a salad, there’s a head of lettuce in the fridge, some carrots and cucumbers and tomatoes too.” Remy appeared right in front of the refrigerator as soon as Billy stepped up to it. Steve noticed, “Just nudge her away, she likes the cucumber and she always tries to steal it when I get anything else out of there.”

Billy toed at her, prodding her away, “I thought you hated tomatoes,” Billy mentioned as he took out everything Steve had mentioned. He dropped everything in his arms on the other side of the island to where Steve was focused on seasoning the chicken. He bit his bottom lip when he was focused. Billy stared.

“Uhm,” Steve mumbled distractedly, “Just cube it and pat it a little with a paper towel. I can handle them when they’re not so wet.” Billy nodded and grabbed a cutting board from the drying rack by the sink and a knife from the wood block. He worked as he did in the kitchen at the diner and had a salad tossed up just as Steve was putting the chicken in the oven.

The goats where nowhere to be seen and Billy felt unnerved by the sudden quite, “Where are they?”

Steve looked up from cranking a timer with a wide eyed look, “Who?”

Billy held back a chuckle, “Steve,” he grinned amusedly and shook his head as Steve hesitantly gave back a confused tilt to his head. “Where are your goats?”

“Oh!” Steve pointed to the living room where the two animals where lying and staring at a robin hopping outside the glass sliding doors. “They’re waiting to go out,” Steve explained and hurried over while untying the apron. He opened the door and both goats messily ran out into the dewy evening grass and over to the small but spacious corral that Steve had referred to earlier. It was simple wood fencing, not much more that four feet high. The goats seemed to not care for it though and neither did Steve in the moment. Because the goats where lazily chasing the robin down to the tree line until the bird flew up and out of sight.

Billy walked out to Steve’s side at the end of the patio. Steve shivered, it had rained a little, hence the cool dew in the grass, and the air was chilly. Billy felt fine but he knew how Steve got colder then most, even though the man ran hot most of the time. He was a similar way himself, was a human heater but almost never got cold. Billy didn’t really think about it before he did it. Just pulled Steve close into his side and hugged him around his torso with one arm. Steve didn’t show any resistance and only froze up for a millisecond before he leaned into Billy’s side comfortably.

The sun was half covered by the end of the tree line. Cosmic orange and yellow highlighted Steve’s features cinema-like as Billy watched him gaze at the goats chase each other. When Steve finally did crane his neck back to catch Billy’s eye, he found plainly that he’d already had it. Steve’s eyes shifted down for a second and Billy had just enough hope to think it was his lips Steve had willingly glimpsed at.

“Wanna go get some ice cream from Donna’s later?” Steve asked and Billy caught something knowing in the glimmer of Steve’s irises. Highlighted like aged honey from the sun.

He nodded, “Sounds nice.”

“It’s a date,” Steve stated decisively. A date. He turned back to clap for Remy, who had just successfully jumped over the small bin filled with a basketball, soccer ball, and rubber ball.

Which reminded Billy, “I didn’t know you played soccer.” Steve seemed taken aback at the sudden question, like he’d forgotten too.

“God,” he said and leaned into Billy more, “That feels like decades ago. Yeah, I played the summer before junior year. Wasn’t my thing, I was put in goalie all the time because I couldn’t dribble the ball and kept tripping over it and staining my uniform.” Billy chuckled and Steve joined him heartily. “My mother has a picture of my whole front covered in mud somewhere.”

“I’ve got to see that,” Billy loosely pinched Steve side, making him bundle over to try and protect himself. Steve yelped with ticklish spouts of laughter and Billy laughed with him. Steve’s laugh was like a bell, like the church bells that even the non-religious could find a meaning too. Even at almost twenty, Steve’s laugh made him seem so much younger. Like he wasn’t plagued with neglectful parents, monsters invading his hometown, and the memories of all too many unnecessary deaths. Billy’s own was rougher but Max had told him once that his laugh did the same thing. She told him that when he laughed he seemed thirteen again, when he had first met her, when his father had been nice and Max had been innocent enough for Billy to take care with every step towards her. When she made him laugh like he had just started remembering how to do now.

Steve leaned his head on Billy’s peck and sighed, “I don’t even know where it’d be. My mother might have it. I have a hunch she had a photo album with her.”

“How’d you figure that?” Billy settled his hand firmer against Steve’s hip.

“She calls sometimes when she’s drunk enough to let loose and tell me how she’s feeling. Seems she only remembers me when she’s intoxicated. She babbles about times when I was a kid.” Billy couldn’t see Steve’s expression but he almost assumed the man was smiling a little. Like he was okay and happy that his mother only called when she was drunker than a sailor. He was fine with the scraps he got. And Steve was never one to stick up for himself. Never one to actually complain about the muddy puddle he was stuck in. But Billy didn’t want to watch Steve become immune to that. And it was bad enough that he wasn’t even registering what’s right and wrong anymore. But maybe Steve was finally accepting the outcome his family’s path had lead to. Maybe Billy missed being selfish and now he was selfish for Steve.

“Why does she do that?” he asked and Steve didn’t respond for a moment. The goats started to chase each other around the corral, shadows deeper as the sun set a little more.

“She doesn’t trust my father so she’s always by his side. He cheated a couple years ago and she’s trying to keep a hold of him. She can’t leave him for more to an a day without worrying to bits and pieces.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

Steve sighed and shrugged over Billy’s arm, “I get it, I don’t like it, but I get it. I spent so much time doing the same to Nancy. I lost the game and I have a feeling she’ll lose eventually too. I guess...I never hang up because I want her to know, even if it’s in the back of her mind, that I’m here for her when she realizes it. When he finally makes the final blow.” Steve looked up and Billy couldn’t regret causing the loosing stance in Steve’s eyes. Because what he’d said was the truth. It was what he felt for real and that what Billy had wanted. But he did feel apologetic for pushing. Steve had a hard time talking about his family, anyone could be able to spot that much.

“That’s kind of you to offer her,” Billy said and stared back at Steve through both their eyelashes.

Steve shrugged again, “Yeah, well, one of us has got look out for someone.” Billy knew he was implying his own family. But he couldn’t help but connect Steve helping him through all the hurt Neil had caused. How Steve had definitely been there for people before. But this was different. Billy knew that. “And I’ve got the goats, I haven’t told Dad about them but Mom thinks it’s sweet as long as they don’t eat the furniture.” Billy smiled and leaned his chin atop Steve’s hair part. Steve sighed, a little tired and a little content, “This is nice.” Billy decided to take the next step, maybe Steve already had, but Billy was making his own leap.

He slowly stepped around Steve while still keeping him trapped in the embrace. He leaned forward till their noses touched and he ignored the slight tickle. Steve and him were mostly the same height, Billy only shorter by an inch or so. So Billy had the best sight of Steve’s dark, coffee bean eyes and the starkly gentle emotions they emoted. Neither of them looked anywhere else, no ones eyes looked away from the others. It was peaceful until Billy felt two somethings, he assumed were horns, ram into his calf. He shouted and stepped back from Steve so he could check his assaulted leg. The smooth, black coat that Billy had just been stroking earlier was now jumping in front of Steve like it was disturbed by the both of them. He made a low ‘baah’ towards Billy before chomping onto the hem of Steve T-shirt self riotously.

“Joseph!” Steve scolded, rather harshly, “How dare you,” he ripped his shirt out of the goats mouth and hurried over to Billy. Remy had remade her appearance, making herself known to Billy by licking his hand and making a sympathetic sounding ‘baah’ much different from her brother’s. Steve took Billy’s hand and rushed back inside, guiding the goats with him. Joe was reluctant and obviously in a fit of self pity, but Billy was sitting on the counter as Steve checked over the bruising area with extreme intent. “I’m sorry he did that, he’s not usually so violent.”

Billy snorted, he couldn’t help it, “I think he was just being protective of you.” He winced when Steve gingerly felt around the bruising dots.

He looked up sheepishly, “Sorry,” he stood up and gave a quick peck to Billy’s forehead affectionately. And if that where any other person Billy knew he’d probably be very confused. Even with almost kissing outside, Billy wasn’t quite surprised by Steve’s actions. Because Steve was always affectionate, he hugged and squeezed you when you hugged him like he loves you more than anything. He was just soft hearted like that, defrosted in a way most weren’t.

Steve returned with a bag of frozen peas, “Here, this’ll help,” he held it to the two dark purple circles on his leg. Billy ignored the cold and ran a hand through Steve hair calmingly. He told himself there was a tangle and he was just making sure Steve’s pretty head of high hair wasn’t catching snarls. Steve hadn’t used any hairspray that day, or at least very little. He was surprised by the light, softness to it. Steve closed his eyes and leaned into Billy’s hand by the third stroke of his hand.

“Steve,” Billy began, he didn’t continue until Steve opened his eyes and looked up at him, “Do you think the goats will ambush me if I try again.”

Steve’s lips curved up and he leaned his temple against Billy’s knee, “Nah, Remy will protect you. Promise it,” he put his hands on the counter on either side of Billy’s sides and pulled himself up to standing. The counter was tall so for once Billy was the one an inch or so taller. Steve didn’t close his eyes as he leaned in and neither did Billy. They stared a moment before they closed their eyes and their lips actually touched. And then they were pressed together from forehead to waist. Steve was warm and breathy and confident. It was more relieving than the cold against the bruises. Billy was actually the one to break first. He hadn’t even realized until he tasted salt. Steve looked panicked, “Are you okay?” Steve’s hands were in Billy’s hair, pushing it back soothingly.

Steve wiped the tear tracks and Billy coughed out emotion, “I never actually thought that would happen. For real. You— You kissed me.” Steve smiled as it dawned on him and hugged Billy. Just hugged him, nothing more, nothing less. Arms around torso and slightly stubbly chin against his jaw. Billy almost fell apart. He wrapped his own arms around Steve’s torso and clasped around him like a magnet.

“I’ll do it again later too,” Steve whispered after a very long moment. They both pulled away when they heard the clomping of small hooves. Remy was pushing Joe over to them with the flat of her head and the force of her side. She stood silent and stared at Joe for a long while, the white of her spots reflecting the last light of the evening. Joe stood on all fours and slowly inched his way over to Billy’s dangling legs and licked his knee before galloping off with a blow through his nose. Steve chuckled, “That’s his way of apologizing.” Billy raised a brow and watched as Remy made her way over, calmer than the other.

“Some apology,” he mumbled sarcastically and Steve laughed while putting his head on Billy’s shoulder.

Then the timer went off.

#steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #steve and his goats #this is what you get for april from me #they’re pygmy goats btw #if you wanted some visual assistance

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mgnifiqueyoo · 4 years ago

Text

“Our Last Game...”

Stray Kids Lee Know (Minho)/Reader __ HIGH SCHOOL AU

(a/n: lmao I am NOT good with TITLES- forgive me bois)

Genre: fluff (’cause my heart can’t handle angst)

Word Count: 7.5K

"God, why am I this stupid?"

He asks himself as he struggled opening the door of his house. He was your cute neighbor and schoolmate. He scratched the back of his head as he tries kicking his front door down.

"Minho?"

You wondered why he looked like he was struggling while opening his own house's door. Did he just... lock himself out of his own house? You were too embarrassed to even talk to him or make eye contact with this handsome dude.

"Not today, Y/N."

You told yourself before rapidly and awkwardly walking towards your house. You felt pressured and you don't even know why you feel like it. Then, he notice you and your oddly fast awkward walking.

"Hey, Y/N!"

Well, how can he know your name when you're in different sections? You're caught by your crush, Minho, and you feel like you're going to faint if he ever comes closer to you. He, then, approaches you with a smile and also... the light blush on his cheeks.

"Hi? How are you?" "So... We're neighbors, right? I kinda need your help..." "Sure, what's up?" "I locked myself out of my house and I don't even know where my keys are..."

Minho shyly says with an awkward smile, his blush growing deeper. Wow, isn't the universe just playing with your feelings now? You can't even look at him!

He's way too handsome for your eyes to see.

"Well... I don't know but we can call your parents, right?" "... I actually can but there's a higher chance that they will not appear on time. They're like hours away from here. I actually don't know what to do now." "I don't know what to do, too... Let's try to think about doing something until one of us makes a decision-" "Actually, I have a better idea."

Minho smiles as he excitedly says,

"Come with me and help me with my homework before Mom comes back!"

Minho sits on the steps in front of his door with a smile on his face. You found this situation odd. If he can call his parents, then his parent can at least know what was happening? Yet, he wants to finish his homework with you.

But really, what's the point of declining his offer? He's literally your crush.

"What's your homework about?" "Well, uh... It's about Math and-" "Oh, no. I'm not really good at Math." "... Well, fuck. What do we do now?"

Minho asks, his frustration coming out through his words. You were surprised because of it. Minho cursing? You've never heard of that before and now you just did. You wondered if Minho was ever aware of how attractive he is.

"Uhh..." "... Oh? Oh, sorry for my bad mouth... I'm dumb sometimes..." "... Can I ask you a question?" "Sure, what's up?" "How did you know my name? Yeah, I know we're going to the same school but you're like... pretty freaking popular?" "... I'm popular? You may have mistaken that-" "Minho, every student talks about you in every section..."

You said with a slight frown. Minho was confused, he never really had a lot of friends like the popular ones and he was never really in a friend group. He tilted his head and frowned back.

"Well, why though?-" "They call you handsome and talented... Stuff like that?" "... Oh, I see. It's because I dance, isn't it?" "Definitely." "... Well, I knew you when I accidentally spilled coke on your shirt during the sports thing-" "Wait... That was you?!" "Yes! Also, you're my neighbor, I see you around this block a lot and my parents talk to your parents sometimes. Mom would also usually tell me to try and make friends with you but I'm too dumb."

You both awkwardly laughed. This was like the feeling when your first boyfriend asked you out for prom. Sadly, that ex moved to a different country and got a different girl now.

Now, it's like it's the same thing but different.

"Well, since now I told you about it... It just makes me think how clumsy I am? I'm a dancer, I'm not supposed to be clumsy!-" "Do you fall on the floor when you dance?" "... No?" "Good because I fell on the floor and hit my left cheek during my first ever try-outs in volleyball in like... seventh grade, Minho..." "Wait, you were the one I brought to the clinic?!" "You're the one who brought me to the clinic?!"

You both laughed once again, both of you more comfortable. When you looked into each others eyes, you felt breathless. One thing you didn't know is that he felt breathless, too.

"S-So, uhh... Let's listen to some music? I have a bomb ass playlist that you might like..." "I'm more into chill but sure!" "... Actually, I'm really sorry for the coke spilling incident. You had to play all sports with a different shirt and seeing you wearing a black shirt out of all the players wearing white ones made me feel uneasy." "It's alright, Minho. At least I was wearing one of the varsity shirts."

You smiled and he was feeling breathless once again. To distract himself, he opens his bag wider and gets his phone from it. He pulls out one of his bluetooth earbuds and wipes it with alcohol before handing it to you.

"Shall we listen? You know, I have plenty of chill songs for slow and dramatic choreography. You can listen to that if you want." "I can listen to anything you want to listen to. My music taste is pretty diverse."

You replied while giving him a smirk jokingly. Minho smiled and played the song. Apparently, the song is called District 9 and you felt like there was straight up rave in your ears.

You loved the song even though it's not "chill".

"Well... That's just really cool, Minho!" "I told you... My playlist is the bomb." "I guess you're just as cool as your playlist-" "You're awesome, Y/N. I really have no words..."

Why did he call you awesome when the two of you just interacted today?

"I'm awesome? Don't you-" "Yeah... Wait, do you think I talk to girls?" "... Duh? Literally, everyone in my class talks about you smiling at them-" "Well, I only smile but I don't talk! You're probably the only girl I talked to... Oh! And the female teachers because I usually get in trouble..." "... What trouble?" "Misplacing my homeworks because I don't really get enough sleep." "Oh... Well, then. At least it's not too bad? I usually miss my assignments when I have upcoming... games and such?" "Wow, you're such a jock."

Minho jokingly scoffs as you have him a small smile. The two of you looked up to see the sky as you both noticed that the clouds started turning grey. It was about to rain and the two of you might get sick if you don't go under a roof.

"Looks like it's about to rain... We should go somewhere, Minho." "I don't even get why I'm stuck outside but sure, let's go somewhere else..."

You guessed that the universe is giving you a chance to talk to him longer and you just had to do it.

"We can go at my place if you want? Unless, you wanna get sick-" "Sure! I'll go with you... Are your parents home?" "No one's at home... No boys allowed upstairs, Minho-" "I KNOW THAT!"

Minho whines as both of you went together to your house before it finally starts raining. You and Minho sat beside each other on your couch as you turned on the TV. Minho looks at you with such judgement.

"What?" "... You still watch TV shows ON THE TV?" "... Yes? So?" "So?! Well, Y/N. That's just so unusual! Everyone literally watches shows and dramas using their laptops-" "So, you're telling me that taking care of my eyes is unusual?" "... Oh... I didn't think of that."

Minho awkwardly admits as the two of you laughed once again. Before interacting with Minho, you always thought that he was such a cool guy and that he's always serious. Now that you interacted with Minho, he's actually an awkward dork who's very nice and very talented.

Now, your crush on him got even bigger.

"Well, I kinda have to ask something. Do you have a strong internet connection?" "My Wi-Fi is actually good enough... What are you gonna do with it?" "I have to email my dance coach that I can't send the choreography video tonight... I can send the video tomorrow, though. Wi-Fi password, please."

Minho says while raising both of his eyebrows, convincing you to give him the Wi-Fi password.

"Give me your phone-" "What? No!" "Do you want the Wi-Fi or what?" "Just give me a minute!"

Minho seemed suspicious. What was he hiding from you? If it was porn then you wouldn't really care about it.

"GIVE ME THE PHONE!" "NO!"

Minho loudly disagrees as you snatched his phone from his hand. The thing was his phone was already unlocked so it's easier for you to just enter the Wi-Fi password in the Settings app. Then, you noticed who was his wallpaper.

It was you.

"Uhh..." "I can explain... I purposely tried having subtle interactions with you... You're really cool and I love the way you play volleyball in the varsity. You're just cool and I'm a... I'm actually a big fan of you."

What? Did he really just say this to the person who has a crush on him? The universe really is giving you all the good luck right now!

Those embarrassing moments you had during important school events led to this?! It started from the moment you fell on the ground and hit your cheek during try-outs. The second one? When he "accidentally" spilled coke on your shirt. Now, when he actually locked himself out of his house.

"Oh, come on. Just say that you have a crush on me!"

You joked but he didn't smile or laugh. He snatches his phone from your hands and puts it on the kitchen counter. Yes, the two of you were in the kitchen now because of all the running.

"Yeah, I like you a lot... but please don't misunderstand the whole "locking myself out" situation. I literally did lock myself out because I'm dumb and awkward with literally everything." "... So, you really locked yourself out of your house?" "Yep... Sorry for the inconvenience, I guess..."

The silence that filled the room was your opportunity to tell him that you do have the biggest crush on him.

"I like you, too..." "... Wait, what?-" "Yeah, yeah. Mock me all you want, Minho. How can you not notice that I have a crush on you, too?" "I don't... I don't know? You didn't tell me anything, ma'am." "... Well, I've had a crush on you since I saw you compete in a dance battle for the sports event at school... You're also cool and you really know a lot of stuff. Plus! You're intelligent except for the Math homework..." "Yeah, I can't understand the Math homework at all... But, do you really think that... I'm cool?" "Well, yeah! Although, you looked pretty blunt when I see you came home earlier... Why is that?"

Minho sighs when you asked him that question.

"Well, that's because a lot of guys at school didn't really want to be friends with me." "How so? 'Cause you're much awesome than them?" "It's because all of their girlfriends were always talking about me and they want me to stay away from everyone at school basically-" "What the fuck? Thank god, I broke up with my ex." "... YOU HAVE AN EX?!

Minho was shocked, it was because he never had a girlfriend before in his whole life. He was too busy with academics and dancing that he just never had time for relationships. You, however, were also focused on doing your best at everything you can do well in.

It basically means that you can do everything amazingly because you're pretty much interested with doing every single activity.

You had a boyfriend because you both had "feelings" for each other at the time but as time goes by, both of you grew out of it.

"Why are you so surprised?! Every senior high school student probably has an ex?" "... I don't..." "... Wait, you don't?" "Yeah, I seriously don't..."

Then, silence filled the room once again. You felt your heart beating faster because of the awkward silence. Minho looks around before looking back at you.

Then, your awkward ass asked.

"Hey... What if we... try?" "... Try what?" "You know? Go out on a date sometime?" "... Isn't this already a date? Because it really feels like a date to me, Y/N."

He replied while gazing into your eyes, making you blush and look away.

"Well, then. Do you want to have a second date?" "Sure. Why would I say no to my crush?"

He answers again with this handsome smile. You literally squealed a little so that he wouldn't find you weird. The universe really loves giving you all the luck this time.

After a while, Minho showed that he really isn't that smooth. He literally squealed excitedly like how girls do after their crushes talk to them. You liked this side of Minho.

He really is cute.

Then, you remembered something.

"Don't you need the Wi-Fi password?" "Yeah, I do. Please type it..." "Look, if we ever start officially dating each other... then, I may have to give you my Wi-Fi password-" "Then, I may have to convince you into dating me because... you're just so cool and perfect." "Work hard on that, Minho."

Then, his phone rang. Minho's mother was calling him. Minho made this uneasy face before answering the call.

"Hey, Mom-" "Where are you?! It's past seven o'clock and you're not even home yet! The lights are turned off and the door is still closed-" "I got locked out, Mom! I couldn't find my keys-" "The spare keys were in the mailbox like I told you earlier!" "Why were the keys in the mailbox?!" "WE DON'T HAVE A MAILMAN! Minho, you better come home now. Where are you?" "... I'm at Y/N's-" "At Y/N's?! I'll be there, sweetie."

The way Minho's mother mood just changed that quick shocked Minho a lot. Your doorbell rang and the two of you were nervous. First of all, your parents don't know that you were alone with Minho in your house.

Second of all, you broke the "no boys allowed" rule.

You opened the door to see Mrs. Lee smiling at the two of you.

"Good evening, Mrs. Lee..." "Good evening to you, too. Did the two of you have fun together?"

You didn't know how to answer because you were nervous. That's literally your crush's mom talking to you. Minho notices that you couldn't answer so he answered instead.

"We became good friends, Mom..." "Well, that's great! Maybe we can have dinner together with your family next week, Y/N!"

His mother excitedly says as you sighed before smiling at her. You were really nervous.

"Of course, Mrs. Lee. We can have dinner with you..." "Thank you, dear! Well, Minho and I have to go home and eat dinner now. See you next week at our house!"

Minho's wrist was grabbed forcefully by his mother as he awkwardly waved a goodbye to you.

"Are you dating her now, Minho?-" "No, Mom!"

- SCHOOL : 5:30 PM -

"Look at her. She's so chubby and just so annoying to look at! Ugh..."

One of the cheerleaders started talking about you. Well, you weren't really insecure about yourself because you know that you're really good in sports. But sometimes, these girls are a bit too much.

"You know I can hear you, right?" "Yeah? And so?" "Man, don't test me. I work out."

Saying those words make you feel confident about yourself. So what if you're a bit chubby and a bit built? Everyone should be unique and these mean cheerleaders should know that a tiny waist is conventionally "sexy and fit".

"So, you're gonna play a game with the boys again? You're like a boy yourself, Y/N. That's why your boyfriend broke up with you. You're too manly!"

Now, that just hit you. It hit you differently and you can say that... it hurts. That specific insult hurt your feelings a lot.

Before you can even reply, you saw Minho running down the gym. He was warming up and exercising since he'll be competing in a dance contest that will be held in a different school. He was the dance representative of your school.

You also just finished training so that you could join the line up for the game in that same school Minho will compete in.

"Hey!" "Hi, Minho!"

The cheerleaders said in unison and you just felt like facepalming. They just made you feel ashamed of yourself and your body and now they're flirting with Minho because he said a "Hey!"? For clarification, that "Hey!" was meant for you.

"Uh... Hi to you, too? Anyways... Y/N, do you have an extra slot?" "You're talking to Y/N?!"

The one who humiliated you asked Minho, she couldn't believe that he's talking to you instead of them. Again, Minho never talked to any girl at school because he was awkward and their boyfriends told him not to do so.

"Am I talking to you? No..." "How can you talk to her when I'm the one sending you letters and gifts everyday?!" "She's literally my neighbor..."

Minho mumbles with a frown and sighed, he was clearly annoyed.

"Your boyfriend told me not to talk to you and now I can see why."

Minho was sassy this time and you never knew that. You chuckled and organized your bag. Minho looked at you and he felt bad.

He didn't know that the person he looks up to was being bullied by cheerleaders everyday. You were only popular among the varsity guys because you're such an ace. You're literally good at everything.

"Anyways... Hey, Y/N! Do you have an extra class this hour?" "Extra class? I don't have one actually. My schedule is just organized the way it should be-" "Great! I'll eat dinner with you tonight... Also, I'll be cooking-" "You cook?!" "Duh? Anyways, I'll be changing. Wait for me outside the locker room!"

Minho excitedly said as he skips his way to the boys' locker room. You were left alone with cheerleaders and... it was just straight up uncomfortable. Then, Minho stopped midway.

He realized that you were in need of help.

"Damn it, Minho."

He mumbled and sighed before running to the gym once again. He's literally drenched in sweat and he might get a cold if he doesn't change his shirt immediately. Then, he sees you crying on the floor.

Why were you crying? The girls insulted you more and even called you names. They even threw a lot of stuff at you, either food or drinks.

Either way, you felt like shit.

"Y/N! Y/N, hey..." "Why is this my body? Why am I not like them? Minho... I don't know... I really don't know where I went wrong-" "It's because you never went wrong! You're just... yourself! And that's okay!-" "No, it's not!... This is why Jaehyun broke up with me... I'm such a loser-" "But you're not!"

Minho sighs as he zips your backpack open and picked up a towel. He, then, wipes your face with the spare towel. You were surprised that he, the ace of talent, would wipe your face and shoulders splattered with food and sodas.

"Look... You're not a loser, Y/N. Don't you know that? Every member in the varsity teams, either talent stuff or sports stuff, talks about you! Be thankful that they talk about you and how you're literally good in everything rather than just your appearance... You're more than whatever they think you are, Y/N. Please know that..."

Minho reminds you while he wipes the mess away. He sighs because he extremely hates this type of situation especially humiliation. He wanted to get back at the cheerleaders.

Minho would literally throw the same types of food they threw at you.

"Hey, Minho?" "Yes?" "... Thanks... Thanks for being here for me." "I know that... well... you got lonely after Ryujin and Yeji moved schools. You're still in touch with them, right?" "Yeah, I'm still in touch with them. I'm glad you asked me about that..."

You smiled, Minho was really caring for you. Then, he remembered about what you said about your ex boyfriend. He didn't want to bring back the past if the past still hurts you but he was just genuinely curious about the ex thing.

"Hey, I have a question..." "Sure. What is it?" "... What happened between you and Jaehyun?" "Tsk, that? Well, nothing much... We crushed on each other, we dated each other for months and months, then he had to move somewhere else in the globe because of his interest in a specific school... and then, I waited and waited for him to come back... Then, I realized that he has a new girl and that he told me I was just a 'fling'... I don't really care if he left me like that it's just that I don't want that to happen again."

You explained and he was both annoyed and confused. If you and Jaehyun dated for months and he suddenly says you're just a fling then... it was a one sided relationship, right? Minho couldn't believe it.

He couldn't believe that someone would just ghost you like that and then tell you that you were just a fling without any explanation.

"He just... told you off like that?" "Yes... Not even in a phone call, man. Just a blunt ass text message... I just don't want to be hurt like that again." "... Well, you won't be... I'm here now..."

Minho tried convincing you and you couldn't look away from his gaze. You didn't want to trust anyone this quick because you don't want your feelings to be smashed and thrown away like it was nothing again.

"... Let's go home. We wouldn't want to be late for dinner." "Yep, I'm pretty hungry... You'll cook for us, right?" "Absolutely. I really need to please your parents or I may not have you and I really don't want that to happen." "Damn... You like my awkward ass this much?" "Yeah, especially that a-" "Shut it."

You interrupted Minho because it was... well... making you blush and making your heart pound faster. He stood up from the floor while you fixed your unorganized backpack. Minho notices this as he lends you a hand.

"Let's have dinner, Y/N."

He smiles as you held his hand and stood up from the floor, walking with him until you reached your house.

"Hey, I forgot to change my clothes. I'll be changing first before we have dinner..." "Oh? Sure! It's fine. I'll be changing into... not messed up clothes..."

You joked as the two of you awkwardly went into your houses. As soon as Minho closes the door, he yelled a "Yes!" as his parents looked at him weirdly. Then, his mother finally realized why he yelled excitedly.

"Minho? Dear, do you... like Y/N?-" "Me?!- Of course not!- She's a!... She's a friend! And my neighbor!-" "Oh, shut it. Your dad and I know that you like this girl and we will support it if the two of you will... well... date!" "... Ugh, fine. Yes, I do really like her a lot." "Minho, you silly boy. You have to at least give her something if you're courting her!"

His mother suggested as he frowned, thinking of what he could give you. He literally is an ace but he really doesn't know how to court the girl he likes. He has literally never courted anyone at all in his whole life!

"... Is a dance piece good enough?-" "No! What I meant is like... flowers? Chocolates? You know, the type of things that girls will usually swoon over..." "... But Y/N will probably find it weird. She's an ace in everything... kinda like me but she's more on the sports side." "... Well, I suggest you ask your lovely father about courting! Get some advice from him, Minho..."

His mother smiled at him as Minho smiled back, running upstairs to his room later. He yells again in excitement before changing into a semi-formal shirt and some jeans to go with. He was nervous because this is the first time he will ever do this type of thing.

He finally went downstairs after his mom and dad waited for him to get dressed.

"Ready, son?" "Yes, Dad. I'm kinda ready now..."

Minho nervously says as the family finally went to your house. You and your parents almost argued before Minho's family ever came into your house. The argument?

"Minho's planning to court you and you're wearing a basic white shirt? That's not even a casual shirt, Y/N. That's literally one of your varsity shirts last year-" "But Mom! This shirt is literally more comfortable and Minho might find me weird if-" "NO BUTS, Y/N. Change your shirt at least before Minho arrives! At least I know that Minho's parents are good and that Minho is a good guy unlike your last boyfriend-" "I KNOW THAT, MOM."

You said as you rolled your eyes and rushed upstairs, changing your clothes last minute. You came downstairs wearing a pink shirt and black jeans. Your mother shook her head, you looked too casual for a semi-formal dinner with Minho's rich ass parents.

However, you father thought you looked beautiful. Why? Because he saw how happy and excited you were.

This was the first time you've ever been this happy since your relatonship with Jaehyun ended.

"Good evening, Mrs. L/N." "Welcome, Minho!"

Your mother excitedly greeted Minho and his family. Both of you were nervous as hell. First of all, a boy courting you right now is a first time experience even your ex boyfriend didn't court you. Jaehyun literally straight up told your mom he loved you and your family ended up having a fight with Jaehyun.

"I'm really excited to cook for all of you tonight. I've been wanting to do this for like... ages, Mrs. L/N." "Well, Minho. I think you're not so different from what Y/N tells me about you." "... She talks about... me?" "Of course, dear! She always does!"

You were embarrassed and you finally facepalmed after a while. Minho takes a look at you, giving you a small and quick smirk before looking back to your mother. Your mother really exposed you in front of your crush.

"Well, Mrs. L/N. Our son talks about her a lot, too. He talks about how "fun" and "easy-going" her personality is almost everyday. He doesn't get tired of talking about her and I'm really glad that Minho is enjoying his time with Y/N."

His father said, being proud that his son finally got out of his comfort zone to meet new people and is enjoying his time with you. Minho facepalmed, he was embarrassed. His cheeks? So red.

"Well, Mrs. L/N. I would love to cook for tonight's dinner! I've been planning this since... since my mother planned this... dinner!" "Oh, that's delightful! The kitchen is over there at the back-" "Sure, thanks."

Minho rambled as he grabbed the basket full of ingredients and walked to the kitchen awkwardly. Your parents don't even know that Minho stayed in your house for a few hours since that day he got locked out of his house. Surprisingly, his "intimidating" parents didn't alarm your mother.

Why? Because they want you to be Minho's first girlfriend.

"Oh, Mom? I'm gonna go help Minho cook-" "Do you even cook, Y/N?" "... I do! I cooked pasta once!-" "You burnt the pasta because you didn't put water in it-" "MOM, I'M GONNA HELP MINHO."

You angrily rambled, making your way to the kitchen already. You tapped Minho's shoulder and he just stared at you for a few seconds. He found you beautiful.

"Hey, can you tell your parents-" "Oh, don't worry. My mother promised me not to tell your parents I got here HA-" "Oh, thank god. I was literally gonna flip the table if your parents told them..." "... You can do that, right?" "Do what?" "... Flip the table-" "Yeah, I can but that's not the point! Anyways..."

You breathed in deeply. You can finally tell Minho your iconic pun. Minho, even if he really is very much in love with you, rolls his eyes whenever you tell him your puns.

But you've been waiting to tell him this pun.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" "... I swear to god, I'm gonna throw you across the room if you don't stop doing that-" "Well, you gotta stop mentioning how you like my a-" "Can you shut it?!"

Minho was either giggling or panicking. Maybe both at the same time. You looked at the recipe and you didn't even understand one thing.

"So... you really cook this type of stuff?" "Yeah! Cooking is one of my hobbies because I dance a lot so I need to eat a lot, too." "... Actually, that's a fact. When your body is like always active with sports and stuff, you gotta eat a lot. I don't even know what the cheerleaders do to themselves..." "... What do you mean?" "Don't you know the "cheerleader diet" they do every single day? I don't know but I kinda think that's a bit unhealthy if they're dieting everyday. Shame on that female gym teacher who mostly choreographs the cheer dances..." "... Yeah... Shame on that bitch."

Minho says with a frown as the two of you rolled your eyes at the same time. Yes, most of the cheerleaders might've been bullying you lately but nobody deserves to be THAT restricted in their own CHOICE OF EATING. Minho lays all the ingredients on the kitchen counter one by one.

"You know, I really cook well and all of my dishes taste good but I don't really cook for others except my family..." "... And, why do you wanna say that?" "Because this is basically one of my ways in treating you and your family... well... like mine, too!

You were surprised. It seemed that Minho was really serious about you. Well, he really is serious about you and he wouldn't let anyone break your heart again.

"You know, I can't cook... I literally can't cook..." "How so?" "... So like I was trying to cook pasta once and I burnt it..." "... You BURNT pasta?! How do you burn pasta-" "I forgot to put water-" "You forgot TO PUT WATER?!... I swear, I'm going to cook for you once we become... well?" "... Oh, shut it!-" "But I'm just telling you the truth! I really like you and I want to be with you..."

You couldn't even reply without the tendency of stuttering. Minho winks and smirks before focusing in cooking. Basically, all you did was hand him bowls, spoons, and such.

After he finishes cooking, the two of you came back with the dish. He cooked some fajitas because he wanted to cook something that isn't a Korean dish. The six of you sat in one dinner table, his parents facing yours as the two of you faced each other.

"So, Minho. Y/N told us that you dance very well, right?" "Oh? Oh, I dance but I'm not that good-"

You interrupted him, your mouth filled with food.

"Hey, shut it. You're really amazing at dancing, Minho. Don't even try denying that."

You joked as he smiled at you. Although, both of your parents didn't get the joke. Minho's parents thought that you were a bit rude since you interrupted him while speaking.

"My son was speaking?" "... Oh... Mom, it's just a part of our jokes. Please don't take it the wrong way. We just play around like this..."

Minho looked very frustrated and nervous. You were more nervous than Minho. Imagine if his parents dislike you because of a simple inside joke the two of you do everyday.

"Oh? Is that so? Oh, lord. I don't understand kids these days... Anyways, Minho told us that you're good in every sport? Am I right?" "Oh, me? I'm not really that good in every sport. I'm just an average-"

Now, Minho does the same to you.

"What the heck are you saying, Y/N? Don't even try to deny the fact that you're the greatest female player AND CAPTAIN at varsity. You're literally an ace and you can't change my mind otherwise..."

Minho jokes as both his and your parents stared at him. When he noticed everyone staring at him, you couldn't look at him straight without chuckling. You facepalmed instead, holding back your laughter because everything that's happening at the moment was getting more awkward each second.

"... See? It's our type of humor, Mom."

Minho awkwardly laughs as you sighed, facepalming once again. This might be the most awkward dinner scene in every awkward dinner scene. Your father sighed before taking a bite of Minho's fajitas.

"... This actually tastes incredible!" "Oh, Mr. L/N. Our son cooks well and he's great at it." "Now, I can see why our dear daughter says he's an ace. He's good at everything! Imagine also being good at cooking, right?"

It was great that your father appreciated Minho's cooking. Minho sighed in relief, giving you a smile after it. He was really nervous around your parents and you wanted to talk him out of his nervousness.

He can fake confidence! He's a performer after all.

"Hey, uh... We're just gonna talk into the kitchen, Mom. You guys have fun..."

You smiled as you pulled Minho's wrist, dragging him into the kitchen. He breathes out heavily, putting his hand on his chest. You were surprised.

He really was this nervous?

"Well, aren't you really nervous?" "Shut up, Y/N. I'm literally shaking... What if your parents don't like me? What do I fucking do?-" "Look, Minho. We aren't even together yet. Just do your best, I'm pretty sure they're gonna like you- Wait, fuck. What if YOUR parents don't like ME?" "... But they do! I'm sure they do like you. We can invite them for the year-end sports event! My parents can see an ace play every type of sport without failing!" "... That's actually a good idea! Then, my parents can see an ace dance amazingly on stage." "... Pshh, shut up..."

Minho rolls his eyes and tries hiding the faint blush on his cheeks by turning his back on you. Then, you finally realized that the both of you had to go back to the dining room and eat with each others' parents. To make him blush once again, you held his hand surprisingly.

"We should probably eat now... Let's go?"

The horrified look on his face made you smile as his cheeks blushed deeper.

"Are you being embarrassed because I'm holding your hand-" "I swear to god, I'm gonna throw myself." "... Okay but don't do that, Minho." "Lol, I won't..." "... This is a verbal conversation-" "Shut up and let's go."

Minho sighs, feeling nervous once again but because you held his hand... he felt cute and comfortable. Both of you went to the dining room. Minho didn't feel nervous anymore.

The night went great between your family and his family.

- YEAR-END SPORTS EVENT : 12:00 PM -

"Alright, team. We can do this. It's just basketball. It's our specialty, alright?" "Yes, captain."

The members said in unison. It was probably vaguely detailed since you were always called an "ace" in this story but you're actually the captain. Yes, THE captain of every SPORT.

That's how much of an ace you were, considering that you're the only girl member of the varsity.

How were you chosen? Most of the boys at school don't really follow the rules despite their strength and skills in different types of sports. You, however, never cheated in a game once and... well... you were just as skillful as your members but you were more determined in "fairness" than "winning". Although, you sucked at your first try-outs in seventh grade because you were panicking.

That's why the coach chose you and you've been the captain for three years already.

"Let's go! Let's go!"

You cheered as all of you went outside the locker room. Earlier, you were at the girls' locker room because you're a girl and you weren't allowed to be in the boys' locker room. However, the coach always texts you when your teammates were done dressing up so that you could enter their locker room.

Now, the show is about to begin in a minute.

This was your last game and you wanted to achieve something as a personal validation.

The audience started cheering as the cheerleaders started dancing. The host started to announce that the game was about to start and that is when you finally cracked your knuckles and rolled back your shoulders a bit. Of course, you were nervous but also excited at the same time.

The Basketball captain from the other team asked,

"Which one of y'all is the captain?"

The members pointed to you as you raised your hand.

"Well... That's funny... Good luck to your girly team, Cap!" "... Yeah. I think we'll do good so watch your back."

You answered as the host blew the whistle and everyone started cheering for different types of names. You weren't in the first line up so you had time to start cheering for your members.

Then, your phone buzzed as you looked at the notification.

It was a text from Minho.

[ "I'm actually shaking in my seat. Do well!" - Minho ]

You smiled as you watched the first set of the game finished. Well, it was great that your team won. The captain of the other team was seen clearly annoyed.

"You're not winning this game, girly." "What did I tell you? Oh, yeah. Watch your back."

You scoffed, you turn into a different person when some irresponsible captain tries dragging your team because your team's captain is a girl. Your coach runs up to you. It looked like he was about to say something important.

"Y/N, we're saving you for the third set." "But coach, what if someone gets hurt? Their captain was being an ass and-" "..." "... Oh, I'm sorry for my language but I have a gut-feel that someone might get hurt." "No one is gonna get hurt, Y/N. You are our ace and we need you to play for the last game." "... Fine but if someone gets hurt during the second set, I will have to be the substitute for them."

You told your coach as he nodded. The second set starts and guess what happened? The asshole captain purposely "bumped" into Jisung as Jisung fell on the ground. You were full of anger and disappointment.

That fucking bitch ass captain.

The host started yelling for time-out. Literally four minutes into the second set and this happens. You felt bad for Jisung, this was everyone's last game before graduating.

The other school's coach decided to have a pep-talk as your coach did the same. You were worried for Jisung's health.

"Hey, Jisung-" "I'm fine, Cap. It hurts a bit but-" "I'm substituting for you in this game, okay? I'm gonna talk to that bitch after this, okay?" "Oh, my god. Thank you so much, Y/N! You're literally the best..."

Jisung smiled at you as the school nurse came in to treat Jisung's minor injury.

You were up for the next game. The moment Minho saw you, he remembered the first time he watched you play. This time, the whole vibe was different.

"Go, Y/N!"

Minho's and your parents yelled. Minho couldn't yell because he was nervous. He was worried for your health because he just saw the other captain push Jisung to the ground. Jisung was one of the guys that Minho doesn't have "beef" with.

The game starts as you made eye contact to the ball and the spacious surroundings only. The wind blows your hair quite perfectly as it purposely lets you pay attention to every players' moves. You felt that the rude captain was going to push you.

You didn't even dodge but you did something unexpected.

"What are you seriously doing?!"

You yelled, slapping his hand away using your empty hand. This scene caught everyone's attention, even the players' eyes were glued at you and that rude captain. The captain scoffed, showing that he was annoyed.

The table judges were annoyed, too.

"Yes, sir?" "Disqualify the group." "Which one?" "This one."

The table judge pointed at the team.

"Daejeon Gwanjeo High School is now disqualified for the basketball game."

The host announced at the same time you dunked the ball in the hoop, winning the second set. The students who were from Cultural Tech High were shocked in disbelief that their basketball team was disqualified. The table judges smiled, they've noticed the "pushing" incident from the first set.

"Congratulations to Gimpo Jeil Technical High School for winning the year-end Basketball game!"

The host happily announced as the majority of the audience cheered. Although, the Daejeon students thought that it was unfair. It wasn't unfair because they were the ones who stopped during the game and all you had to do was dunk the ball.

And, you did that.

"Oh, my god..."

You breathed out, relieved that you won the LAST game you'll ever be in this school. Your teammates ran towards you, carrying you on their shoulders and cheering for you as your coach gave you the trophy. You felt so much joy that you started crying.

Imagine being able to withstand all of the insults because you're a girl.

"We did it!"

One of your teammates, Hyunjin, cheers in happiness. Minho smiled at the view of you being happy and all emotional. He really felt like running down the stairs from the seats but he was scared for some reason.

He wanted to ask permission from your parents first and he was nervous.

"Um, Mrs. L/N?" "Yes, Minho?" "May I... go with her?" "... Sure. I'm sure she will love that."

Minho didn't know what your mother meant. It means that you love him back and that she's allowing him to finally date you. It also meant that she knows that Minho was the best for you.

Minho smiled at them with sparkling eyes before excitedly running down as fast as he can. The boys finally put you down after numerous "pleading" from you. They were lifting you too high and you were starting to get dizzy from it.

"I'll see y'all later at 5!"

You waved a goodbye at your teammates as they did the same. Your team decided that you should take the trophy home. Why?

It was because you made this last game the best one in their whole lives as high school basketball players.

"Hey, Y/N! Congratulations!"

Minho cheered, he really wanted to kiss you but he still doesn't know if you're already allowed to date him. Before the game even started, your mother told you that if you really love Minho... then you should go for it. Your mother already saw Minho's efforts and she's amazed at how dedicated he is to always bring you home safe, to always bring you flowers, to always visit you and your parents at home, and to always tell your mother that he really loves you and that he could never hurt you the way Jaehyun did.

"Minho..."

You started spacing out, looking at him lovingly. He found it a bit weird that you were just there, smiling at him and admiring him at the same time. You, then, cupped his face and kissed the tip of his nose.

"Hmm?!... Y/N?!-" "Don't you know already?" "... What do I not know already?" "You're really dumb, aren't you?" "..."

Minho stared at you with a confused look. He was thinking about what he doesn't know yet. You sighed because it was taking too long for him to know what it was.

"... Well, then."

You finally kissed him for the first time. His eyes widened at the current situation, clearly surprised that you kissed him. Then, he wraps his arms around your waist.

He finally realized that the two of you are now officially dating.

"We're dating now, right?" "I-... Do you think we're not dating? I literally just kissed you in front of both our parents..." "... Oh, yeah!... So what should we do now?-" "Eat ice cream before your dance contest. Please... I know you want ice cream." "Alright, m'lady."

Minho jokes as he winks and smirks at you. Of course, you swooned. You finally found your second half and made your last year of high school memorable.

That was your last game and a new chapter will unfold.

//the end//

DM for Requests, y’all!!! <3

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lihikainanea · 6 years ago

Text

When tiger needs some rescuing, and why BFF!Bill is so touchy

I think this is what was blocking me from being able to write anything else. I had this in me for awhile.

It’s uh...it’s long, friends, but this is my therapy piece.

Brought on by this ask. Masterlist of BFF!Bill series and one shots/drabbles is here.

Empaths, eh? Sometimes I think they’re the only ones who can still save this world.

***

It was when you started reaching for him more than usual, seeking out his touch, that always tipped him off that you were going through something. Something that maybe you weren’t even aware of yet.

He had always been the more touch-oriented one of the friendship, grounding himself in it, and it was something that you had made him realize. Early on, you made it clear to him—and even told him bluntly—that when it came to physical contact, he was free to take what he needed from you. He was confused at first, had no idea what you meant, but you had known.You had seen it, had read him, and had already started to intricately weave your way into his life.

He kept you at a distance, at first—you had a great sense of humour and he liked your vibe, but you were new and you were female, which his guarded nature classified as a threat. You were a threat to his privacy, a threat to the sanctity of his inner private circle that he held so dear—and so removed—from his public life. You read that on him, it was glaringly obvious to you. But you also read something else; the way he actively sought out physical contact with those he loved. The way he would reach out and pat a buddy’s arm as he got up to go to the bar. The way—when he laughed really hard—he’d rest a hand on somebody’s shoulder. The way he hugged his friends, even sloppily kissing them on the cheek. The way he was always seeking eye contact with those he held in high regard but would often make subtle attempts to avoid it around those he didn’t know or trust. Bill seemed to always be reaching for the people he trusted when he was comfortable, happy, and reached for them even more if he was anxious or stressed.

He had kept to himself the first few times you had crossed paths, staying very much within the boundaries of his own body and would provide fleeting eye contact. You had made him laugh, purposely so, but he didn’t reach out for that touch that you had seen him initiate with others. There was a kindness about him, something genuine, and you always respected a person who was guarded. You wanted to know him more.

So, you tested him.

The first time you scooted by him in a packed bar, you rested your hand in the middle of his back where you could reach. You kept your contact light but not timid, and you felt his entire body tense. You knew, then, that Bill got a lot more than just gratification from touch—he got instinct from it. It was how he read people. And you wanted him to read you, so you kept doing it, within the boundaries of his comfort zone. If he made you laugh, you’d reach out and lay a hand on his forearm. If you were walking side by side, you’d purposely bump your shoulder into his. He reacted differently, you noticed, to skin on skin contact and seemed more vulnerable to it, so you tried that at every opportunity you had. You started tugging him down to kiss his cheek in greeting or in farewell, you’d place your hand loosely over his when you nodded and agreed with something he said. Eventually, over time, he tentatively started to reciprocate--testing you too, and what he got from you. You always tried to relax your body language when he reached out, trying to impart some of the calmness that he always seemed to be in need of. And then with more confidence and more time, he gradually started to see how far you would let him take it before you would think he was weird.

It was when he had slung an arm around you one night, absently rubbing at your bare shoulder, that a certain sense of pride flared in your chest that you were now part of his inner circle—an integral part, it seemed, because he sought out contact with you now more than the others. But after leaving the group to greet a few friends who had walked in, you returned to find Bill closed back in on himself, an arm folded in front of him, staring sullenly into his beer. Looking around the group, it seemed everyone was avoiding eye contact and you just knew that somebody had said something. It almost had you reaching for the knife in your boot, the only thing stilling your hand was knowing that Bill much preferred to just fade into the wallpaper and not cause a scene.

When he walked you home that night, keeping a bubble of distance around you, you grabbed his elbow and forced him to face you.

“What happened?” You asked. He avoided your gaze.

“Bill?” You questioned him further, ducking lower to capture his gaze that was on your feet. He sighed.

“They said that I was….leading you on,” he mumbled, “That I was giving you the wrong idea.”

Your blood boiled.

“The wrong idea about what?”

“About…us, I guess,” he gave a half-hearted shrug.

“What’s ‘us’, bud?” You asked, and his eyes shot up to yours. The panic in them was almost comical, and you allowed yourself a small chuckle before you placed a comforting palm over his heart.

“Let me rephrase that. Let me tell you what I think ‘us,’ is, okay?” You asked, and he nodded.

“I think ‘us’ is two people who recently came into each others lives, who make each other laugh, who have a lot in common, and who get along really well together. And quite frankly, I want to see where ‘us’ goes, for awhile. But not on that level. I’m interested in your friendship, Bill. Nothing more.”

He stayed silent for a long while, studying you, and you held his gaze unflinching.

“Bill, I promise you, “ you continued, “I won’t ever think anything more of your affection and your contact, unless you tell me that it means more. But you have to promise me something, too.”

You waited until he nodded.

“You have to promise me that if ever it does start to mean something more, that you’ll tell me. Because it would be really fucking sleazy of you not to,” that earned you a chuckle, a lopsided grin that showed off his dimple as he placed his hand over yours.

“I promise,” he smiled, picking up your hand and kissing your knuckles.

“I’m safe for you, bud. You can take what you need from me, whenever you need it from me, and you’ll be safe,” you told him. He nodded, pulling you in for a hug and whispering his thanks into your hair.

And true to your word, in due time, you realized just how much he relied on touch. It was still tentative at first, but you always responded to him so positively and encouraged him to reach out more. So gradually, his timid brushing of his shoulder into yours on movie nights at your place turned into him putting a solid arm around you, tucking you into his side. Nights where his mind was getting the best of him—nights that he would have typically spent alone—turned into nights where he curled up with you in bed, his arm wound tightly around your waist while you brushed your fingers through his hair until you heard his breathing steady. Social situations that would have had him staying with his arms crossed and barely engaging in conversation turned into the occasional hand squeezing your thigh, seeking reassurance and steadiness, as you sometimes threaded your fingers through his low under the table where nobody could see.

He knew you weren’t necessarily a touchy person—in fact, he seemed to be the only one you allowed to maintain that level of contact with you—so he was baffled by your openness about it, your willingness to provide it for him. Baffled, but grateful. And he loved you all the more for it.

But it also meant that he took note very quickly of when you were the one reaching for him more, and it made him realize that you were dealing with something, whether or not you were aware of the toll it was taking on you. He knew. And he knew that once the touching started, then it wouldn’t be long before the nightmares came, too. He could set a watch by your habits, something he would never admit out loud to you because he knew how irritated you would be.

And he also knew that your instinct to reach for him was in constant battle with your sometimes stronger instinct to push him away. To get him far enough away from you just to make sure he knew that you were the one in charge here and that nobody was about to know you better than you knew yourself. That you weren’t about to be coddled, that you didn’t need coddling. But he knew a way around that, too. Guarded people, he realized later, knew all the guards of other people. And he knew yours. So when you started to push him away, in order to keep close to you, he had to make it seem as if you were always the one doing him a favour. Helping him, he knew, was easier for you to do than to admit that you were struggling and needed him.

He had noticed it immediately when you opened the door for him on one of your movie nights, your usually expressive eyes hollow and worried, your jaw tight. The way you kept biting your nails. It had taken you awhile then, but over the course of an hour, you had gradually nudged him into lying down and you snuggled on his chest, his hand running up and down your back as your head was tucked under his chin. Annoyed when you realized what you had done, he heard you huff before you started to shift, putting distance between you.

“It’s late,” you said, “You should get going, I have an early brunch tomorrow.”

He yawned—an exaggerated, noisy thing.

“Actually kid, I’m too tired to drive. Do you mind if I crash here?” He asked. You rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed.

“Fine, you mooch.”

It was the first time he had witnessed you having a nightmare, that night.

You reached for him again when he accompanied you to a tense work function. A colleague who had been far less than professional with you on a few business trips was already working his way through half the liquor supply at the party and wouldn’t stop leering, and suddenly your dress felt too short and too low cut and your heels too high and your lipstick too red, but the night was still far too young to make a diplomatic exit when there were still too many important people to meet. Though Bill hadn’t strayed far from your side that night, you had kept reaching blindly for him at random points—gently extending an arm behind you and he’d subtly step into your bubble, letting your hand fall on his chest. He tried to respond to you the same way you had come through for him every single time, just with much more subtlety so you wouldn’t feel coddled. It only seemed to hit you—what you were doing—when you reached for him again at some random point and his hand met yours halfway, threading his fingers through yours. You huffed in annoyance, quickly retracting your hand and hunching your shoulders. He waited a few minutes, and then feigned a wince.

“Hey kid, I’m not feeling too well,” he said, and you turned to him with concern written on your face.

“Are you okay?” Your brow furrowed and he had to stop the urge to reach a hand up, smooth a finger over it.

“I feel a migraine coming on,” he lied, “I think I might head home. I’m sorry, tiger.”

“Don’t be. Come on, I’ll take you home,” You excused yourself to your boss and a few colleagues, explaining that your date wasn’t feeling well and Bill looked every bit the part. Let his left eye wander, started to wobble a bit. He even had you fooled, as you ushered him to the car and drove home, tucking him into your bed.

You had a nightmare that night, too.

But despite his experience with them now, despite him knowing all the signs and tells and walls you put up, he had never quite seen you this bad, for this long. You had been reaching for him for a week now, becoming increasingly more frustrated with yourself when you realized what you were doing, and how frequently you were doing it. It was making you retreat more, become more withdrawn, to the point where he was having a harder time getting through to you and an almost impossible time pulling you out.

“You good, kid?” He asked, you had been holding the knife in your hand, unmoving, hovering over the cutting board for a few minutes. His words shook you out of your daze, and you looked sheepishly at him.

“Yeah. Must be more tired than I thought,” you shrugged, starting to chop the pepper again. He made his way over to you, making his steps and his presence deliberate, standing behind you and slowly putting his arms around your waist. He leaned down, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about?” He asked, softly. You twitched a little when his hot breath hit your ear.

“Nothing to talk about,” you mumbled.

“Okay,” he conceded, it was the third time that week that he had tried. "If that changes, I’m here.”

He kissed your cheek but stayed in place, nudging your earlobe with his nose and inhaling deeply.

“You smell nice. I’m staying here,” and you let him hold you like that for awhile, every now and then feeding him bits of whatever it was you were chopping. He broke his grip on you when you started to squirm, ruffling your hair before moving on to get the other elements of dinner ready.

“You sure you’re okay?” He tried again when you were both sat at the table, a few glasses of wine already coursing through your system which always helped your honesty and your ability to be vulnerable with him.

“Stop this in vino veritas bullshit, Spartacus,” you snapped, “I’m fine. Just tired.”

He swigged his wine, deciding on the sincere approach. He lightly placed his hand over yours.

“Tiger—hey, look at me kid,” he urged, and you rolled your eyes as you lifted your gaze, “I’m worried about you.”

It was the wrong approach.

“Bill, I’m fucking fine. But I’m already exhausted, and your nagging is making me even more exhausted. Knock it the fuck off,” you stood abruptly from the table, bringing your plate to the sink. An explosion, he thought—the nightmare tonight would be extra bad. He stood, catching your wrist as you went to leave the kitchen.

“I’m sorry kid,” he apologized and you huffed, trying to break free but he held on.

“Look tiger, I’m going through some stuff right now. And I think I’m just projecting it on you,” he lied, “Will you stay here tonight? Please?”

You scrubbed a hand over your face and his heart constricted when, even with all the shit in your head at that moment, you still looked up at him with concern in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” You asked. He nodded, slowly.

“Yeah I just…will you stay? Tonight? It would help me rebalance some of this shit if you did.”

“Of course, bud. Of course. But I’m going to go curl up now, if that’s okay. I’m drained,” he let go of your wrist when you gently tugged it away, reaching to pull on his shirt collar. You kissed his cheek and he wrapped you in his arms, keeping his grip loose, before telling you he’d join you after he got some work done.

It took awhile for it to hit that night, he curled up behind you when you were already sleeping peacefully and had drifted off into a deep sleep himself. He heard it before he felt it—the whimper, loud enough to make his blood run cold. Then your arms were moving, struggling against an invisible force, as a choked sob left your lips. Your feet kicked out, legs writhing and shifting, your breathing laboured.

He quickly scooted out of bed, knowing that if you woke up to a large, looming presence anywhere around you, there was a good chance he’d get hurt. You tore at the blankets, your hands gripping and tugging as you let out a cry in your sleep, tears running down your face.

“Tiger!” His voice was firm, too loud for this hour of the night, but it did nothing to rouse you. Your whimpers were getting louder, turning into choked sobs every time as you kicked your legs, weak punches falling on nothing but air.

“Tiger, come on kid,” he ran a hand through his hair and tried shaking the mattress from a safe distance, but you were in too deep. A cold sweat had broken out on your forehead, your nails now digging into your own forearm, your lip drawn so tightly between your teeth that Bill worried you’d bite right through it. He had to do something. Risking the blows he knew would come his way, he got back on the bed.

“Tiger, you’re okay,” his voice was still firm but he grabbed your shoulder now, trying to keep his touch as gentle as possible but with enough force to wake you. It was only when he grabbed your other shoulder too and shook you, that your eyes flew open and you swung at him. He managed to duck in time to block the brunt of your blow, but you still connected near his chin and made his teeth chatter.

He released your shoulders, scooting to give you space and holding his hands up in front of him. Your eyes were wild, your chest heaving, sweat covering your entire body.

“Tiger, you’re safe. You’re okay,” his voice was much gentler now. Your eyes rapidly scanned the room.

“It was just a dream, kid. You’re safe. You’re with me at my apartment, and you just had a nightmare,” he tried to establish eye contact with you but you were like a cornered animal.

Suddenly, you let out a loud whine that turned into a wrenching sob. And you couldn’t stop. Dragging air in, you gulped at seemingly nothing and your lungs were on fire. You could hear it, your own wailing and the way your lungs couldn’t do anything but emit horrendous, gravelled wheezing sounds. You clawed at your chest, digging your nails in and scratching, as you fought to get your breath while everything started to go black.

Bill jumped off to his feet, reaching for the inhaler you always kept on your side of his bed. Trying to keep his physical contact with you at a minimum, not knowing if his touch would make it worse or not, he shoved the inhaler between your lips and gently placed his hand on the back of your head. He pumped a dose through, timing it with one of your inhales, and then moved back a few steps.

“Tiger, can I touch you?” He asked. You were still gulping for air but the wheezing sounds had somewhat diminished, so he knew that at least some air was getting through. You didn’t respond.

“Kid, look at me,” he tried again, but you raked your hands through your hair, keeping your head bent low. He looked around frantically, trying to come up with a plan. He tentatively sat back on the mattress in front of you, and the movement of the bed tipping seemed to be what snapped you out of it, your eyes lifting to his. Finally registering where you were and who you were with, you lunged at him, scrambling into his lap and curling up as another sob wracked your body. He threw his arms around you, holding you tight to his chest as you cried.

He kept you there for awhile, reaching for your inhaler to pump another dose through when he heard you start to wheeze again. It took a long time for your breathing to even out somewhat, just a few notches below hyperventilating. But he waited. You spoke first, when your wracked sobs had subsided to just a dull, exhausted cry.

“I couldn’t fight back,” you said, “He kept coming at me and I couldn’t fight back.”

“Who did?”

“All of them,” another choked sob tore through your throat, and he waited. Control, he thought, and fight. It was important to you to always fight, and to always have control. You had been dealing with something in the past few weeks that had robbed you of both. He took your face in his hand, forcing your eyes to his.

“Talk to me, kid,” he coaxed, wiping your tears when you sniffled. You stuttered, your voice shook, but you told him. Told him all about the creepy colleague who you had narrowly escaped after you, too, had knocked back a few too many drinks at a party and was almost beyond the point of being able to refute his advances. You told him how you had to deal with this guy on a daily basis, his role being integral in the company and how he always leered at you in meetings. You told him how you felt like you just had to suck it up, to let it happen, to allow the guy to behave that way because speaking up would be detrimental to the career that you loved. You told him how you no longer felt safe, how you were starting to hate having to so carefully weigh every single thing you did during your day—if you would run into him in the secluded hallway leading to the office supply closet, if he would corner you in an elevator to make you more uncomfortable, if he asked your boss to delegate you to work more closely with him on a project.

Bill listened, his jaw tightening with every word, but trying to keep his demeanour calm and comforting.

“I didn’t…” you sniffled, wiping at your wet cheeks, “I didn’t even realize how much this was bothering me.” He felt you deflate in his arms, a deep sigh leaving your lips.

“What am I gonna do, Bill?” You looked up at him then, your cheeks red and tear-stained and your eyes puffy and in that moment, he knew he was capable of murder. Swallowing hard and making a concerted effort to unclench his jaw, he reached up and rested both hands gently on your face.

“You are not going to do anything. You have done enough, trying to handle this on your own for god knows how long,” he leaned down, pressing his lips firmly to one of your wet cheeks.

“So all you’re going to do right now is have a cup of tea, and I’m not letting you get an inch out of my arms tonight. And tomorrow, we are going to figure this out. Together.”

He looked to you for your agreement, and you nodded. He shifted you and hooked an arm under your knees, lifting you with him as he stood from the bed.

“Wait!” You cried, and he bent as you reached for something on the mattress. Grabbing the stuffed tiger plushie he had bought you, you squeezed it to your chest as you nodded up at him.

“Okay, I’m ready for tea now.”

#BFF!Bill #BFF Bill #BFF!Bill drabble #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble

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