#me banging on the door of album: lemme IN!!!!

[gothprentiss]

my speakers don't arrive for a couple of days which is a tragedie bc i wanna be sitting IN music right now

[sly-merlin]

KILLING ME -11 |N.Y

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre :    angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au.

warnings of this chapter : cursing, explanatory mention of a pistol!

words :: ~5k

summary : “life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

or              

“  curiousity got the cat hitched”

taglist :: @kpop-choco​ @moon-yuta​ @kawaiiayasan​ @btm-taeyong​ @exfolitae​ @lanadreamie​ @cheersskznct​ @hyuckiesgf​ @theworld-accordingtocasey​  @yiyi4657​ @sorrywonwoo​ @sillywinnergladiator​ @suhweo @minejungwoo​ @leesalts​  @mal-nakamoto23​ @ro2424​ @itlittlefangirl​​ @nctzens-world​​ @bl--ankhaeji​​ @simplybree​​

 networks :: @kafenetwork​ @neowritingsnet​  @nct-writers​

K.M masterlist

K.M 10     next

a/n :: header was made with detailed instructions from lovely @cirrus-lily​ (thank you so much for your patience).

Previous night , taeyong’s office.

The thick, heavy unnatural silence was breached by the phone call. Taeil’s muffled words didn’t reach anyone’s ears but taeyong’s reaction was enough for an estimate!

“what did taeil say?”

Taeyong glanced at yuta’s hopeful yet helpless face. Taeil's order was far from what yuta's eyes sought. The past ten minutes were spent listening to the unsynchronized ticking of the clocks and some random whispering of the younger ones from the living room. And now, several pairs of eyes were asking for the answers.

“you will be stationed in nice, f-for two months.”

Yuta’s face hardened at his words. He gulped and opened his mouth to say something but stopped. The words stuck on his tongue would not be able to convey what he wanted to, he thought.

“with johnny?" Jaehyun uttered.

“no yuta is replacing him" taeyong mumbled, hiding his face in his hands.

Yuta snickered , “ as expected.” as much as he didnt want to sound bitter, his senses were not cooperating with him too much.

“this is not about you or johnny. It’s better if you both stay away fr-

“did taeil tell her the truth?” yuta coldly cut him off.

“i don't know about that!"

“then I'll have to do it myself." Yuta stood up, alerting everyone.

“do not stretch this yuta. This can end right here. Your absence woul-

“you got it wrong taeyong!” yuta cackled , “I'm dying to leave this place but don't you think she deserves to know that she's wrong here.”

“please yuta. For last time. trust taeil. this is the last thing I’m asking from you. You’d get the chance to explain. Ju-just not yet.” Yuta scowled at taeyong’s hollow pleading.

He inched forward slamming his palms on the table , “ since when did you start playing with wrong players taeyong? you are supposed to be the smarter one here. Who are you fooling here? you think I don’t know why she’s here or jaemin, jeno, jungwoo, chenle, jisung, mark, they don’t have a hint?” taeyong eyes danced around the room avoiding any contact as yuta continued, “Don't stretch this taeyong. this can end right here. without hurting another one and right before they can get attached. I hope when i come back , you would have sorted this mess out or you won’t have time to regret this time”

Scoffing at taeyong’s hunched figure, he smacked the table once before leaving the room.

Doyoung  followed soon , leaving Jaehyun and Taeyong alone.

Panic engulfed jaehyun’s entire being as he pondered over yuta’s words.

“he’s right. You saw her today. She’s getting worked up over a stupid misunderstanding and you saw the way taeil is acting! This was never the plan. She’s not timid. You cannot possibly make her agree to anything at all. Taeil would never let that happen. Heck! Yuta’s getting weirder these days. Let her go. We can wait unt-

“We. Can’t .wait. I know my limits, Jaehyun and two months are enough..” Taeyong whisper yelled “ I care about her more than you’d ever do so get the fuck out of here. You don't get to tell me what I should be doing.”

Jaehyun leered at the older man, muscles in his jaw twitching at his words  “you have lost it taeyong. if we fail this time, you’d be the one to blame.”

Perfectly ironed shirts were wrinkled as yuta threw them into the case. doyoung was ready to accompany but he refused all the assistance proposed to him. He left nothing. from t-shirts and pants to jumpers, he packed as if he was going for a one way trip to france.

He groaned , jumping on the suitcase, trying to bury the clothes deeper into the case so he could zip it. Once finished,he pushed the cases out of the room and into the hall. locking the door, his running and hurried eyes fell on the opposite room. It was bare of any presence. This was his first time peeking into your room. He was merely looking from afar but the very next second he found himself going through the album resting on the bed covers. a perfect normal photo album was calming enough to subside his inner turmoil.  

yuta scrunched his nose at the small girl who was either frowning or crying in most of the pictures. the family of three looked quite happy. But the girl didn't seem to resemble any of the adults. He almost let out a laugh at your wailing form in every other photo. Just looking at the pictures, anyone with two eyes could tell that you were a spoiled kid. No wonder you were full of attitude and ego, he thought.

closing it, he glanced at the room, simple and plain. Not that his own wasn’t but he couldn’t find anything that had prompted you to lock your door for the whole day. He left the room to lock his own but when he pocketed his keys, they met with something at the end of his pants pocket.

A grunt left his throat at the sight of the screws. He had placed them in his pocket to follow your fuming body, the reason of which he didn’t know back then. He was about to throw them on the bed when the album caught his eyes again. He cursed at himself for being so indecisive. Pacing back and forth , he noticed how composed he had suddenly become. He wasn’t feeling anger, just some traces of irritation for the whole drama that had unfolded.

Before he could convince himself otherwise, he took a paper from your desk, scribbled with a trembling hand and left it on the counter.

All while hoping taeil was actually being reasonable , just this once.

12:30 p.m

Looking through the power window, you stared at taeil’s arriving form, hands full with brown food bags. He hit the car door with his one knee prompting you to open the door from inside.

“when I say you are no better than others ,I really mean you are NO better than them!” taeil chortled as he shoved a bag into your lap.

“what did I do this time?” you rolled your eyes as you anticipated another moral lecture from him.

“nothing. you are making an old man to get food for you!”

“and I had suggested the said old man to enter the drive thru!”

“and drive thru is no fun, duh! The vintage the better!”

“just like someone I know! you exclaimed chewing the burger.

“very funny. You know highway stops are all about breathing in fresh air while stretching your arms, yawning so widely that you have to hide your face in your stretched arm to save yourself from the embarrassment. The first step out of the car after hours of driving feels like restoration of something that was denied to you for such a long time. and the second phase of happiness comes at the engine purring, the feeling is like no other, I’m telling you. but someone lost their chance to experience it .”

“you sound poetic taeil but you lack facts. The fresh air you just inhaled is what we consider a polluted one.I’ll prefer to sit inside and miss all that instead of going out and dying. So let go of the  fancy peace thoughts and develop your perceptions according to the changing world. The sound of this vintage engine is a source of headache and not happiness.Now lemme eat. IN PEACE”

“we’ll see whose perception changes” taeil mumbled munching on the fries.

You both ate in silence for 20 minutes. As the drive continued ,the stilled milieu took you back to the uncertainties you were trying so hard to suppress. When taeil had knocked at the door in the morning, which was beyond expectation at first, he gave you the liberty to question his actions but you had passed that opportunity, precisely to show that you weren’t that greedy. But you were! The endless queries were now making you anxious. Why did taeil come with you? what was the reason behind his pleasant behaviour, how could yuta agree to go like that? sure he liked your presence not more than you did but was he the kind to bow down so easily! Or was he designing something under the colour of acceptance. taken together ,you ended up being the ruthless one here. But the leading one was why did yesterday happen! Multiple stolen glances at Taeil were fairly noticeable; you were waiting for him to just start something. And he perhaps was waiting for you to initiate. Dilemma remained unsolved and you arrived in seoul just like you had left it, but visiting your parents had lessened the encumbrances weighing you down.

You were about to retreat after thanking him when he finally spoke up,

“b.n at 6! No exemption. And instead of racking your brain, just ask. it’s simpler than you make it to be y/n.”

Slamming the door shut , you dragged your feet for the apartment, shaking your head at the man.

Of course he knows everything! And maybe could ask him someday to get your own answers.

10 days later

The gun went off with a bang which if it hadn’t been for the ear protectors and the noiseless sheets, would have deafen your ears. Fingers pointed at the target, eyes coloured with impatience, jungwoo didn’t move. After he was done with his dramatic action, the glass shield slid and he entered inside.

“this is target A. this one is B” he asked for a confirmation with his wide eyes which you nodded at.

“right. so!” he walked circling the dry grass to stand between two targets, “so when I say hit at A, you should be firing at A, precisely aiming anywhere in this space.” he explained again, hand moving in front of the said space.

“I hit at the center jungwoo! The fucking center! For the first time in two weeks.”

“yes. You did hit the core but of the wrong target.”

“how does it matter? It's a perfect shoot”

Jungwoo blinked multiple times focusing on your puzzled face. He wasn’t sure if you were purposely trying to annoy him or you seriously lacked a few braincells to understand where you were wrong!

“at the wrong target.” he pressed.

“but I still hit-

“Ok. listen to me carefully now. Lets assume A is taeil hyung and B is a killer. If i shout to you that kill B and you mistakenly shoot A instead then you’d end up killing taeil hyung instead of the killer and then you’d be a killer yourself and even if the shot was perfect it was targeted wrongly thats why when i say hit A, hit A and when i say B, hit B. understood now?” dumbfounded, you stared at him bobbing your head a few times to indicate you understood. But you really hadn’t.

“You are not lying right?”

“Dont accuse me of lying!”

“Oh! So you still don-

“hey beautiful!”

Your heads jerked towards the owner of the voice who had just interrupted the bickering.

“johnny” you whispered.

“I meant jungwoo y/n.” jungwoo sticked his tongue out at you as he jumped forward to hug johnny.

“When did you come back?”

“just now. I flew directly to Japan from nice. didn’t he inform you all? And why is nobody at home?”

a small smile graced your face while jungwoo started explaining to him about some business event. You felt like jungwoo won’t shut up anytime soon so you turned around from the scene and made yourself busy with the magazine. As you were counting the rubber bullets to fill the magazine, a pair of arms touched your both shoulders.

“wh-

“how are you y/n.”

“you done talking to your prince.”

Jungwoo groaned approaching you with a stern look.

“you’ll have plenty of time to chatter. Focus on your job instead!”

“ugh. You are so annoying. I’m done for the day.” You announced handing the pistol to him.

“wait! what am I missing here.” Johnny's eyes shifted , not knowing what was going on in his absence.

“yuta hyu-

“I know all that. I’m asking about the bullets!”

“Taeil told me to learn some basics to defend myself and jungwoo is my assigned teacher who don’t seem to appreciate my skills at all”

“liar!” Jungwoo screeched and continued, “she’s poor at shooting, hits anywhere but the point I’m indicating at an-and she never listens to me.”

Snorting dramatically at the end, he glares at you. you welcomed his complaining speech with a toothy grin which seemed to annoy him more. One thing you had learnt in the past two weeks had been that jungwoo was frustrating when he was hungry and during the time he was supposed to teach you, no food was allowed in the basement, making him a hunger monster.. Johnny watched the exchange with an amused smile, just like you were doing a few minutes ago.

“alright. You both need to chill. Jungwoo, she's not a professional so go easy on her and you! you should listen to him. or if you want I can be your tutor instead!”

“don’t hijack here. she's my student and I was chosen because I am the softest and the sweeter one her-

“who is a second away from having a breakdown!”

“no go out. You are not invited anymore. nobody is allowed here from 6 to 7:30 .” Jungwoo announced as he started pushing Johnny out the door.

‘”yaa! Jungwoo. I’m go- don’t push me you rascal. I am going. Bye y/n. I’ll be waiting upstairs.” He shouted and waved in the air which you, for no reason, found yourself returning even if he wasn't going to see it.

As johnny was gone, jungwoo pressed the switch again to close the partition. Coming behind you, his arms embraced you and he placed the gun in your hand as he ducked himself to reach your height with another try to improve the hand-eye coordination. Occupied with each other, you both missed the pair of eyes watching you both  in a very unpleasant manner.  

“how’s your research going?” johnny asked with a mouthful of meatballs.

“it’s meh! The library is under construction so I can't properly look through books and besides minjun is too whiny to let me do anything. I can’t leave that kid alone so we're always hanging out after 1. I’ve some resources saved so I’m fine for now” you replied.

“seems like that minjun guy makes you very happy. Is he the one?” jaehyun took your attention as he pinched his neck. You narrowed your eyes at his unnecessary remark.

“my happy pill is not minjun but you jaehyun dear. I haven’t seen you in like 5 days i guess? So that eliminated all the reasons for my unhappiness. Your absence is my elixir jae. ” You grinned. Jaheyun pointed his chopstick at you but before he could utter anything, taeyong spoke up.

“woah. Don’t you two start now.” he cried.

“he’s the one that starts everything! I just continue his shit for it-

“well I won't initiate if its not for that stinky tongue o-

“Shut up before I lock both of you in a room.”

Hearing several snickers, it seemed like taeyong was the only one getting annoyed, everyone else seemed to be enjoying it.

Just when you were about to pour more juice, everything else finished and left the table. it seemed strange as how fast they were done with their dinner.

“how can you all eat so quickly?” doyoung seemed to be more perplexed as he asked taeyong.

“don’t you both know?” you settled your chopsticks on the plate as taeyong proceeded, “the last two to finish cleans the dishes.”

You instantly scanned the whole dining table and the instant regret of eating like a sloth washed over your face. There were only three left and next second there were only two. Jungwoo shot up from seat with his stuffed mouth, waved and left. Taeyong didn’t waste any time before he also scurried away.

“this was a conspiracy y/n.” doyoung murmured.

“I know right. they knew it. w-we have to wash for 14 people.”

“look at the brighter side, we don’t have to hurry now.”

You shrugged at his words, filling your glass with juice again.

“you should not be drinking juice at nighttime.” He lectured

“then why is it on the table?”

“aish! You are impossible.”

“so are you.”

You continued bickering with doyoung until both of you were finished. Like everyone else, you too had started to find joy while annoying doyoung. The responses from him were always a treat. He was also awfully similar to you. the nit-picking in almost everything, forever sceptical body language and lastly the  identical frown you both wore all the time. but you were not the one that detected the similarities, it was doyoung himself.

It was not just doyoung! With exception of jaehyun, it seemed like everyone was trying to make you a part of their daily lives. The day after the incident, you had hesitated to knock the door, scared of their reactions towards you but the dark cloud of worry had floated away with the warmest hug jungwoo had welcomed you with. You detected no rejection, no unpleasant remarks, instead you were strictly instructed to not to leave the premises without having dinner. And that one day became two and two a routine. You were confused as you were the reason someone dear to them was somewhere he wasn't meant to be at the moment and yet they treated you like you were their own! For first few days you were at edge, the affection not digestible. Feeding your suspicions , you tried to choke something out of mark who was also your designated driver but all he unveiled was his endless jokes and contagious giggles weaved with the various stories. Each day he recited a new one, sowing the seeds of intimacy with his family which, you couldn’t deny, were sprouting into something unprecedented. However vague it was, you liked it. You liked this unsought acceptance, being included like a family, taking you back in the time. But you never had the luxury of an easy life. Was this worth trusting? Were you ready to return their affection by placing them on the pedestal as same as jungkook and yugyeom. But this house wasn no more reeking of any resentment and you were more than fine with that for now.

"Stack the glasses, I'll pick up the plates"

"This is so tiring" you complained while scraping the sauce on the plates.

"You'll get used to it." Doyoung deadpanned.

"Tell me why i agreed to this!"

"You know the rules. And don’t you remember because of you, I washed for 20 people that day! You deserve the suffering woman!”

You chuckled at the memory. A few days ago, You, doyoung and hyuck were the last ones remaining.  And you had won the rock paper scissors. Though the last two were the supposed cleaners, hyuck had ditched the poor boy, leaving him with extra load.

"You carry some heavy dark clouds on your head man. I don't know how you manage to end up with dirty utensils!every fucking single time" Doyoung glared at your remark and you both continued washing and wiping the dishes side by side.

"Where are the spoons?"

"On the table. Wait , I'll be back in 2 minutes!"

Carrying the cutlery you made your way back to the kitchen but chanting of a familiar name froze you in your steps.

"He's acting like a child johnny! Had he called you after you left?" It was taeyong speaking in a hushed manner, but he was not doing a very good job in whispering.

"Nope. He just took names and contacts of all the whistleblowers and that's it. But i can’t understand the need for that taeyong! I had everything in control. What do you wanna achieve with your stupidity!”

"Jaemin, hyuck and jisung are in constant contact  with him but only to receive the codes he's sending. He's just unreachable and I'm not just talking about his cell network johnny. I'm losing him. He- taeil thought it’s for the best. They won’t see each others face for sometime an-

“And everything would be fine? Right? Sounds very legit. Goodluck with daydreaming princess.”

Hearing some shuffling, you trudged for the kitchen, not wanting them to be aware of your eavesdropping.

Stretching the hem of your knee length skirt with your hands, you kicked your feet in the air to get the non existing elasticity to work. chances were not less but anybody could see you so while cursing at chelin for the tight skirt you made your way inside the office. Your bag made contact with your right hip as you walked into the office corridors. You entered the security doors through the pass that was generated online for first day entry.You never wanted to enter this side of the famous company but with minimum options available you had no choice but to associate yourself with this branch, infamous for saving culprits of money laundering, false accusations and what not.

“ms. y/n?” a receptionist shifted your attention to her tall frame. You affirmed with a nod and she extended her hand asking for the documents.

“I’ll place your original documents in our custody room. No need to worry, this is a mere formality as we don’t make interns sign confidentiality papers. As you already know , you can end your internship with a three weeks prior notice and when we receive that application, your document would be handed back. And in case, you become an associate, and that would depend on your performance, you’ll get them at the promotion.”

You followed her steps as she stopped at a desk and gave you the papers back.

“change the folder to a chois file. And sign this receipt. I’ll give you a copy and don’t lose it if you want your degree back.” You blinked drinking each and every word she said. You again nodded like  a lost child and completed the formalities. After a few minutes you were shown to your small desk that was decorated with a pyramid of legal files.

“do I have to work on these” you voiced your fear. Even if it was a stipend based internship, nobody would take up that work load.

“oh no! actually I forgot that you were joining but I’ll get it cleaned in the evening so you can adjust for today right?” before you could respond the sound of her heels faded away in the distance.

“Welcome to the great chois y/n” you mumbled to yourself, picking up a random file to pass the time until further orders.

A week later

To keep your mind off the distasteful look painted all over mr. kwang’s face, you chose to look at his new assistant. The clicking or rather banging of the keys of the computer combined with the occasional scratch of her nails was highly uncomfortable but not more than the man sitting beside her. Your professor didn’t find it amusing that his favourite free fund student was asking for her permitted leave.

“how much have you progressed with the thesis?” he scoffed, respectfully dumping the application  on the table.

“I’ll be working half day. I’m not supposed to accompany them to the hearings so I’ll be back in the university in the late afternoon to research on that.”

He sighed, clearly not satisfied by the answer, “you want to skip lectures for an assistant job!”

“I would be promoted shortly so it’s acceptable sir.” A lie slipped out before you could stop yourself.

“what about getting distinction in thesis?”

“I’ll be surrounded with experts so it’s not a big deal sir.  I’m getting late. I’ll see you in Friday’s lecture.” In sync with his eyeballs, he rolled his chair to face the other way. Picking up the paper you bowed to his back and left the staffroom , a grin of content bedazzling your face.

"He did what?" Johnny tried hard to control his laughter but the scenario you were narrating was too humorous for him to keep his hands stable on the wheel.

"I'm not kidding John. Yugyeom seriously forgot kook  at Busan. But he did go back to get him though but I won't blame gyeom for this error!"

"Oh yeah! Just because jungkook slept in the gym doesn't justify his mistake girl. The driver should count the passengers before taking the wheel. Look at me, i never forget anyone no matter what!"

"Stop blowing your own trumpet. Don't forget you are driving a stolen car!"

Johnny rolled his eyes at the comment , "no, borrowed from mark so I can spend more time with you. stop lawyering and tell me what you did in the break. Apart from flirting with jungwoo of course."  

You shook your head at him as he repeated the same you-flirt-with-jungwoo mantra again but this time decided to follow the lead , "so what if we flirt! He's teaching me to save myself from predators , abductors and he’s very gentle with me. Have you seen his eyes! I want to drown myself in the depth of those brown sea-

"Oh my god I'm so sorry! I'm never mentioning that again but please stop. You are awful with words." His laughed again, you joining him soon. " Now seriously tell me how were your holidays"

"Umm nothing new except that everyone was on university funded trips leaving me with minjun , his camera and the plants. We explored botanies and flower shops an-

He had lied. You were not sounding awful but he just hated how quickly his heart beat at someone else's mention from your lips. He consumed each and every word like he could be tested on the said information later on. His eyes were glued to the road and his ears to your voice. He wanted nothing more than to be the only one you’d see. He wanted nothing more than to be subject of your talking but the voice in the back of his mind said fuck it johnny, you are already asking for too much. He hated how he lost control over his senses whenever you were near him but he was slowly getting used to the dilemma. But the trance he was trapped in quickly broke down when you mentioned something. Abruptly stopping the car by the trees, he faced you to confirm.

"You are doing what?"

"I'm interning. Don't look at me like I stole your candy John. I need money." You innocently replied not aware of the reason behind his sudden dumbfounded expression.

"Shouldn't you be focusing on masters!n yuta is supposed to pay for you so why do y-

" I can work for my money johnny." Frustration made its way to your face as you continued,"drop me home johnny!" You weren't sure whether it was for his mention or him questioning your ability to feed yourself but you were offended.

"Yeah I'm sorry. I won't mention that again" a hollow apology and the car sailed again.

Hiding himself in his car seat, Johnny's fingers hovered over various contacts. Taeyong, taeil, Yuta, jaehyun! He wasn't sure what he wanted to do or whose side he wanted to take. He just wanted to be with you and no one else! but he couldnt do that !

Kicking harshly at the brakes, he screamed. The voice reaching no one’s ears but his own.

Was he asking for too much?

i wanted to add more to this chapter but i dont find enough time to write due to some commitments! but i’ll update one more chapter before this beautiful year ends. and all the smut chapters would be uploaded again sans the adult stuff for the minor readers! and there are few more chapters left. masterlist says 12 chapters bcs i’m lazy（￣︶￣）↗　

HAPPY DECEMBER EVERYONE. HAPPY HANUKKAH AND MARRY CHRISTMAS. BE THE SANTA OF YOUR LIFE AND SPREAD HAPPINESS!!

[atsunflower]

Rated: SFW

Author notes: *sigh* for the third time the damned app ate up the tags. This one took me too long and I'm excited for write about my man suna again. This is also pretty different from what I'm used to write, but why not? Please enjoy your reading.

Warnings: cursing, substance usage/mentions, break-ups and me trynna be funny.

I – Cancel me.

Previous || Next

He looked at them with expectation as the beats smoothly faded, indicating the song's ending. 

If he were to be honest, the pair before him was a pain in the ass, but their opinion was that important because, when it came to music, they were the best at it. He felt no shame nor jealousy in admitting it.

"Dunno, the hook sounds like a Vice headline ta me." The bleach-haired male said, hearring the song's outro blaring through the studio speakers.

"Isn't it a Kid Milli reference, tho?" The other asked while munching a chip. He frowned at them, not understanding their point.

"Whatever. You two are no help anyways." Hearring their bullshit, the brunette already regretted this collab. He paused the queued song, turning to the other two with a blank stare.

The twins before him snickered, knowing they successfully hit a nerve. They couldn't help it, provoking Suna was one of their favorite hobbies.

"The song is good, but I gotta tell ya this butt hurt phase of yers is pretty lame." The faux-blond opened his mouth again, spinning around the studio with the desk chair. 

"Fuck you, Atsumu" He snapped, almost giving in to the desire of decking them both on the face.

"Tsumu's right, ya Lil Peep wannabe. Can't believe this break up ended up that bad." Osamu said in mockery, throwing the empty Lay's wrapper at him. He scoffed, disposing the wrapper on the bin before getting back at the screen to look at the FL studio interface.

"It's not that I have a broken heart. I just wanna know what's wrong with my life" He shrugged, blindly tacting over the desk in search of his Juul.

"Yeah Samu, he's just grieving over those fancy ass Dior Jordans. Sunarin is incapable of mundane things like a broken heart." His blond friend was partially right.

Suna Rintaro was many things: alt model, music producer, cloud artist and a decent volleyball player that almost went pro. But if there was something he could never be, it was a lucky man on love matters.

With his fair share of failed relationships, the artist could never pinpoint when things went wrong. It would always be the same: he would meet a girl, they would have a good time and then, the chick would turn out demanding as fuck.

In the end, every single one of them would slap him across the face and leave his life banging the front door shut like crazy — last week, it was Mika who broke things off, but not before setting his limited edition pair of jordans on fire. He would never get over those sneakers.

"Good for him, those kicks were kinda ugly." Osamu said in a bored manner. Suna felt his soul leaving his body.

"The hell, Osamu?" He was ready to fight, deeply offended by the attack at his taste in fashion.

"Yo, you two." Atsumu butted in, checking something on his phone "Y'all are drifting away from our problem."

"That is?" The other brother asked.

"Cheer up Sunarin before he fucks up with the Album." If Suna had the energy, he would kick both Miyas out of his studio "And I gotta the perfect thing. Let's hang out at Akagi's tonight, he just invited us." The already distressed musician felt the soul leaving his body for the second time that afternoon. He was sure both twins wished his death.

"Not a fucking chance. Last time I went there I almost died because of that weird stuff we smoked." 

"Aw, Sunarin, Kita'll be there too." The faux-blonde tried to persuade. The mention of their older, responsible and straight edge friend made Suna look at them with interest. But he needed more, though. Based on the last experience, he didn't have the will to risk his life going to Akagi's house once again. A shiver descended his spine as the male recalled how much he threw up that night.

"Suna, man, I gotta agree with Tsumu. Yer feelings are showing in your music." Osamu said as if he was some kind of genius.

"Isn't art about it, tho?" He deadpanned "Expressing feelings and shit?" He asked, staring them dead in the eye. The males before him shivered because of its intensity. Suna snickered.

"Man says art, but most of his songs are about the Nikes on his feet and the Tesla in his garage." Atsumu mocked "What the fuck?" The blonde barely dodged the moleskine thrown at him.

"Don't chew on me when you do the same, asshat. This is called character development." As unnerving the twins were, he felt a whole lot better in their company "Just lemme produce my sad stuff in peace."

"Cut us some slack, ya dumbfuck. We're just worried about ya." Osamu protested " 'Sides, no wonder no girl sticks by yer side. You know what the chicks find sexy? Seizing the means of production, not yer dumb car."

"You two are so la—" The musician was interrupted mid sentence, startled by the blond figure clutching his phone with enthusiasm.

"Oi Samu," Atsumu's loud voice startled the other two, as he excitedly fisted the air.

"What the fuck?" Suna asked, dropping the Juul on the floor.

"She'll be there tonight." The blond said, looking at his brother with a new wave of joy.

"The fuck? She who?" The brunette frowned.

"Ya gotta go and find out, man." The gray haired twin said with a knowing smile, matching his brother's excitement.

The night out felt somewhat draining. The booze, the music and the company were great, but his lack of energy was a mood killer.

Cheer me up my ass, Suna cursed internally as he observed everyone getting wasted all over the place. He grimaced at the sight, realizing the meeting with the twins was enough social interaction for the day.

He didn't know what's gotten into him. The male knew it wasn't necessarily caused by the break up, but he couldn't help the feeling down.

Right now, life just felt lowkey suffocating. 

Being a public figure meant being under the spotlights the most of time.

People talked.

People assumed.

Media was all over him, ready to catch a scandall.

And of fucking course his name was on gossip headlines. It even occupied a spot on twitter trending topics for a day or so.

"Fuck me." He said before the lukewarm beer went down his throat.

"Sunarin!" He heard Atsumu shouting from his right "I want you to meet someone!" And only now he noticed the blond had his left arm over a girl's shoulders.

Oh, that's the one they were talking about, maybe? the brunette realized. What's the hype, tho? He asked himself, eyeing your figure.

"[Name], this is Suna. Sunarin, this is [Name], best girl ever and the mastermind behind the visuals of mine and Samu's last album" The bleach-haired male said with a proud smirk, ruffling your hair. You were obviously shy.

How cute, the brunette thought.

"Dumbass, don't embarrass me in front of others!" You nudged the Miya with your elbow "Nice to meet you, I saw your name on TMZ last week—" You said beaming and he grunted.

I take it back. Not cute at all, the man internally screamed, not ready to talk about the recent events. He didn't even want to listen to the rest of your speech, your cheery voice went through his ears in a white noise.

"And this makes me really excited for your album. The interview about the collab with dumb and dumber was lit." You continued, the words were genuine and you seemed really interested "And I also relate on a spiritual level because I know working with them is hell."

Oh, she's talking about the album. He realized in relief.

"Yo, I heard good things about you too. The design of their album was hella sick, even though they two suck ass." Suna snickered when he heard Atsumu protesting. You only left out a giggle, joining him on the teasing.

The blond kept ranting about how bad of friends the two of you were.

"I didn't introduce y'all ta gang up on me. Bye, I'm finding another company. Ya two suck." The blonde Miya said, leaving only you and Suna in the sofa area.

"Uh, so…" He drifted off, trying to start some small talk

"Yeah..." You both giggled at the awkwardness "Not enjoying the night?"

"Too much happening right now. Lots of people talking shit 'bout me." He sipped the beer, grimacing at the stale taste of the drink "Hope they cancel me already. So all this shit dies down." Suna looked away, suddenly shy for opening up to a stranger.

"You're a famous guy and the break-up wasn't that scandalous. It'll be over eventually, just beware the sneaker cult." Your amusement was comfort enough. You didn't make intrusive questions about the events and merely joked it off. He felt so worn out by the situation but, at least, your presence wasn't overbearring.

"How is it everyone knows about the jordans?" You shrugged it off, laughing at the distressed face he mocked. Sighing in relief, Suna couldn't deny how refreshing your presence was. Not to be a jerk, but usually, the girls either were all over him or judged every single move he made. You were just that easygoing.

"Well, I don't think you came here to sulk on the sofa all night long. Why don't we join them by the pool and down some shots?" You hopped off of your seat, pointing to the glass doors. All the boys were waving at you two and suddenly, Suna felt a wave of joy run down his body.

Atsumu was right. Best girl ever.

At some point of the night, everything became about you.

All he could hear was the sound of your voice and all the time, his eyes were drawn to your figure. He couldn't figure out a reason for it, but the rapper wasn't complaining either.

A sharp pang at the side of Suna's head broke the trance he was in. Osamu had a shit eating grin on his face, eyeing the ravenette with amusement.

"We told ya so." The younger twin mused whilst he handed a long neck of vodka to the other.

"Stop. This is dumb."

"Yer dumb. But you ain't that dumb ta dare ta mess with her." The gray-haired Miya squinted at him, menacingly pointing the bottle in his hand at the brunette. The latter shrugged it off, opening his drink.

"Nah, I'm good." And he meant it.

But how could he explain the situation he was in?

Lips and hands wandered over the expanse of his skin. Everything was too hot and too good at the same time. Overwhelming, even.

He wanted more, more and more. There wasn't enough of you.

And if it wasn't unfair enough, his body felt lethargic. He was desperate, but couldn't keep up with the rhythm you imposed. Be it the alcohol or the stress, his body gave up and blacked out, even before you could undress each other.

In the morning after, a pounding headache woke him up. Suna didn't dare to open his eyes, but the morning breath fanning over his face was unbearable.

"I can't believe a cutie like you have a stinky breath like this." The complaint came out in a raspy voice, accompanied by an annoyed grunt.

Someone snickered on the other side of the room.

"Man, I didn't know you had the hots fer Samu." Atsumu was somewhere across the room, laughing at him.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Hearing the other, Suna's body jolted, dizziness made his head spin in the process. He felt sick in the stomach and the morning light made his eyes sting. "When did I get back here?" The male looked around, realizing he was sprawled over Akagi's floor, right beside Osamu, who didn't even squirm at the loud voices in the room.

"What do ya mean? We never left" Atsumu frowned, uncaping a water bottle he was holding "Ya puked on Kita and passed out. The boys were too wasted ta drag yer sorry ass back home so we all crashed here." The blonde was dumbfounded, trying to figure out how wasted Suna got last night.

Suna wanted to know too. After all, there was no way the events envolving you were a product of his drunk mind.

facts:

• Suna's artist name is yosemite.

• He has a Tesla Model S because of Frank Ocean.

• He takes his Nikes very seriously.

• No, not all of his songs are about the car and the kicks.

• He and the Miya twins got a sports scholarship because of volleyball, but they dropped out of school to make music.

• The three of them created Inarizaki, the label they're making music under. Kita and Aran manage it.

• Both Miya twins are beatmakers and music producers. They recently debuted as artists and now are making a collab EP with Suna, thus Atsumu's concern about the album.

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Seventy-Five

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: SMUT RIGHT AWAY (with, um...bum stuff), and fluff

Harry holds you in his arms and kisses down your neck and chest. He kisses and sucks on your nipple through the material of the bodysuit.

“You look so sexy in this, but I’m takin’ it all the way off now.”

“Okay.”

You lay back on the bed and prop yourself up on your elbows. He kisses down your body while he slides it off. He spreads your legs and kisses from your knee down to your inner thigh. He looks at you while he sucks the skin into your mouth.

“Teasing?” You groan.

“For a change.” He smirks.

He kisses dangerously close to your center, but kisses to your other inner thigh and sucks another mark. He could see how wet you were. He blows on your clit and your hips buck up. He licks a flat stripe up your center. He does this a few times before wrapping his lips around your clit. Your hands slide to his hair.

“Fuck, that feels good.”

You watch as he slides his tongue all around your folds. He licks up and down and side to side, and you get to moan as loud as you want. He was straight up slurping on you, making you come over and over.

“Harry!” You yank his head up. His chin was covered in a mixture of you and his own spit.

“Wha’?”

“I love your tongue, really I do, but do you think I could have your dick now?” He smirks and nods his head yes.

“Sorry, I just…felt like I haven’t had a good taste in a while, and I got a little greedy.”

“Maybe I wanna be a little greedy too.” You bite your bottom lip. “Lemme suck on it, baby.”

He takes his pants off in seconds and gets on the bed. You lick him up and down and suck on him until he nearly comes, but you both wanted to save that for later. You crawl up his body and straddle him.

“Can I ride you first?” You pout. He runs his thumb over your bottom lip and nods.

You lift up slightly and sink yourself down on him, both of you moaning at the contact. He shifts so he’s sitting up against the headboard. You can feel him much deeper this way.

“Can I wrap my hand around that pretty throat, angel?”

“Yes, but, fuck, take your, ngh, rings off.” Harry chuckles but does as you say. He puts them all on his night table.

As you grind on him in a circle he slowly slides his hand up your body. His thumb rubs across your throat. He keeps a light grip on you at first.

“Yellow, remember?” He says to you.

“Mhm.” You smile.

You start bouncing up and down on him, and his grip tightens a little more. It was just enough pressure to heighten your other senses. When you come again he lets go of you and you kiss him, wrapping your arms around him.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” You suck his tongue into your mouth and he groans. “M’gonna put you on your side and drive it in deep.” You mouth falls open.

You get off him and get on your side. He straddles one of your thighs and lifts the other over his shoulder.

“Oh fuck!” You scream as he thrusts into you, hitting your g-spot immediately. “Harry! Right there, keep doing that, shit!”

He doesn’t let up, he drives in deep hitting your spot over and over. You had lost track of how many times you came. You eventually end up on your back with him rocking in and out of you.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen next.” He says into your ear, causing you to arch your back. “I’m gonna come inside you, fill you to the brim, and then you’re gonna fuck me, really fuck me.”

The thought alone almost you come again. Harry fucks into you and you feel his come shoot inside you.

“Shit.” He says. You kiss before he pulls out. “I’ll, uh, go grab the towel and lube.”

You nod and go grab the special box.

“Wait, um, could you just like take a shower quick?” You ask blushing.

“Sure, yeah, five minutes.”

Harry comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later good to go. He lays the towel down and tosses the lube to you. He grabs you by the back of your neck to kiss you. He lays all the way back, and you grab the lube. You warm some up in your hand and squirt some right on his hole. He winces as how cool it is.

“Sorry, sweetie.”

“S’okay.”

You get your middle finger covered and you stroke it around him at first before slipping it inside. He hugs his knees up to his chest for you. Once he’s stretched out enough, you put the strap on and lube it up.

“Ready, baby?”

“Mhm.”

You insert the tip and slowly slide your way into him. You watch as his lips part and his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“You look so good, Harry. Taking it so well.”

“Fuckin’ me so good, angel.”

You smile and start to rock in and out of him. You give him a good thrust and you hit his spot. You use a hand pump his cock. You run your thumb over his tip.

“Y/N.” He moans. “I’m gonna, ahhh, I’m gonna come babe!”

You thrust hard inside him and he screams, full on screams like you’ve never heard him before. From the way you were angling his cock, and from your surprise, his come gets all over your face. You didn’t even care because you had to clamp your legs together. You came from the sound of his scream.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He says when he sees his come on your cheek and mouth and chin.

“No, that was my bad, I got…caught up.” You slowly pull out of him and he whimpers. “Please, please stop making those noises, it’s too much.” You both start laughing. You take the strap off. “What, um, flavor do you want tonight?”

“You pick, you’re the one with come all over your face.”

“Thanks.” You giggle.

You fill up the tub and throw a vanilla bath bomb in. You wash your face off and call for him. He kisses the top of your head.

“Hey…do you think I could sit in front of you this time.” Your cheeks grow red and you shove your head into his chest.

“Yeah, babe, of course.” He wraps his arms around you. “You okay?”

“I feel shy all of a sudden.” He feels a wetness on his chest and pulls your face back.

“Why are you cryin’, what happened?”

“I have no idea, I’m just feeling overwhelmed.”

“Alright, no reason to be, okay? I’m okay. Did I do somethin’?”

“No, I, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothin’, honey.”

He gets into the tub and you get in and lean your back against his chest. He wraps his arms around your stomach.

“I’m sorry, I should be the one taking care of you.” You say looking up at him.

“I’m fine.” He smiles. “You typically need more aftercare than I do anyways.”

“Aftercare?”

“Yeah, that’s what it’s called after you do stuff like that. It’s why you get so shy, you take a little bit of time to come back to me…you’ve done it since we became intimate. It’s why I always try to leave time to cuddle you after. Remember a while ago, when we were still livin’ at your place, you came home and we did it on your lunch break and you said you felt weird all day, and then you wanted me to lay on you?”

“Yeah?”

“Well…there yeh go.”

“I always thought that was something people did after like…BDSM or whatever. I mean, I know we do some different things, but…”

“Sometimes it doesn’t matter what you’re doin’. I mean, you were super shy after the first time I made you come, remember? Think I held you for most of the mornin’ that day.”

“I didn’t realize I was so needy.”

“No! You’r not needy at all.”

“I wasn’t always like that afterwards…I think what happened to me…made me close off and shutdown afterwards. I’ve always just felt realty safe with you though.”

“Good, I wanna always be the thing that makes you feel safe.” He pulls you closer to him.

“I love you, Harry.”

“I love you too, darlin’.”

//

“Harry, no offense, but you’re walking like you have a stick up your ass.” Mariah says to him.

“Yeah, and you look exhausted. Was the coffee I got not strong enough?” Isaac asks.

“No it was the perfect coffee, Isaac.” He smiles. “I just had a, um, long night.”

“Is everything okay?” Mariah asks.

“Yeah, everything’s great. Just had a pleasant evenin’ with my girl after my family left.”

He walks over to his set up for the day. Isaac and Mariah share a look.

“Define pleasant?” Isaac asks. Harry turns to look at them.

“Nothin’, we just got to spend some alone time together.”

“And that’s causing you to walk like that?”

“Walk like what?” Harry’s cheeks were starting to grow red.

“Like you-“

They’re cut off when the first client of the day walks in.

“Check them in, please.”

“This conversation isn’t over.” Isaac saunter over to his desk and checks the people in, a young girl and her father.

“Think she’s with me, I’ve got senior portraits all day.” Mariah says.

“Me too, I think. It’s been really fun. I wonder what Y/N’s senior photos looked like, bet they were cute.”

“I’m sure they’re on her Facebook. I know when I got mine I posted every single one, and the one my friends liked the most was the one I used in the yearbook.

Harry takes his phone out and goes to your Facebook page.

“Go to her albums, bet you she has a, yup! Senior year, 2012-2013.” She points to it and Harry taps on the album. “There! That one of her sitting next to the tree!”

Your hair looked slightly different. It was still long, but you had swept bangs across your forehead, and the blonde highlights you had were much more vibrant. You had a bright smile on your face, and your green eyes popped. You could really see the freckles on your face from your sun kissed skin. You had a blue top on with jeans.

“You were right, Harry. She does look cute.”

“She looks beautiful.”

“Good photographer.”

“Nah, she’s just that gorgeous.” She nudges him and he smiles.

“Maria, this is Alex, you’ll be taking her senior portraits today. Dad’s going to be at the coffee shop next door.” Isaac says.

“Great! We’re going to start outside, okay?”

“When’s my first appointment supposed to get here?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“Great, I’ll be up in my office.” Isaac watches Harry slowly climb the stairs.

“Harry…”

“Stop watchin’ me!”

//

“Sometimes I wish we had summers off.” You tell Niall as you both walk Buster during your lunch-break. “Like, what really needs to get done?”

“I know, it’s hard on days like this. I miss just goin’ to the beach in the middle of the week when it’s not so crowded. We should go to Castle Island this weekend. Water’s probably still too cold, but at least we could sit out, go to Sully’s.”

“That’s my favorite place in the world, so obviously I’m in.”

“Right, your grandparents lived right around there.”

“Mhm.” You smile. “It would be nice to just get out, plus it’s dog friendly.”

“Does Harry have to work Saturday? I think just in the morning, he could always meet us later.”

“True, I’ll see what Sarah’s up to. I had no idea she online tutors in the summer…thought she’s have more free-time once school ended.”

“It’s really good extra money. Rachel scoops ice cream at a local place for extra cash. Being a teacher sucks sometimes, I don’t know how they do it.” You stop to let Buster pee. “Besides, with it being Saturday, Sarah should be free. I haven’t been to Castle Island in a while, this’ll be fun.”

//

You and Harry get home around the same time for a change.

“Hey you!” You say excitedly and kiss him. “This is nice.”

“I know! My dad actually ended at a reasonable hour. Mariah and Isaac are still there, but I’m the boss so I get to leave when I want.” He chuckles. “Actually they told me to go home. Felt like my eyes were goin’ to fall out from editing. I need to buy those glasses you have that take the blue light out of the screen.”

“Oh those work great for long days. I can get you a pair.”

“I can buy ‘em myself.” He gives your bum a pat and goes into the kitchen.

“I know you can…oh my goodness.”

“What?”

“Do we actually get to cook together tonight?” You gasp, and then so does Harry.

“I think we do! What is this domestic shit that we get to do?”

“Such a treat.” You giggle.

You both cook up a stirfry together.

“We should pick up some corn and grill this weekend, supposed to be nice out. I only have to work early Saturday mornin’.”

“Yeah! We could have everyone over for dinner. Niall and I were thinking of heading out to Castle Island, he’s gonna see if Sarah can come too, didn’t know if you wanted to meet up with us when you’re done.”

“Castle Island….” Harry looks off as if to jog his memory.

“You know, it’s by L Street Beach.”

“Oh right! I’ve been there a couple times.”

“My grandparents lived right near there, I practically grew up going to that beach and park…I haven’t been in a long time.”

“Gonna be too cold to swim still…”

“We won’t swim, might just sit out for a bit, walk around to the library, grab lunch at Sully’s.”

“That sounds nice, yeah I could meet you there when I’m done. Probably get there around lunch time.”

“We’ll probably drive over if you wanna just uber there when you’re done, then you can come home with us.”

“Sounds good, babe.”

//

Saturday morning, Harry’s out by 6AM. He gives you a long, sleepy kiss goodbye and out he goes. You get up around 7AM, not wanting to waste the nice day. You lather your arms and shoulders up with sunscreen before putting a crop top tank on, and some high waisted jean shorts that were loose around your thighs. You put your hair up in your high pony, and take out a few pieces of hair to frame your face. You slip on your tennis shoes and leash up Buster. You wave to Niall, and head across the street.

“No Sarah?” You frown.

“No, she had to go home this weekend actually. Her mum is paintin’ a bunch of rooms at her house and she needed her help movin’ furniture. Bein’ an only child must suck.” He chuckles. “Harry mettin’ us later?”

“Yeah, should be around lunch time. Let me just text him so he knows what’s up.”

You: hi baby, Sarah had to go home this weekend :( so you’ll be meeting Niall and I later

Harry sees your text and smiles at your courtesy.

Harry: sounds good, angel

You text Sarah too, letting her know she’ll be missed. You and Niall head to his car.

“What’s in the backpack?” He asks. You had a small backpack with you.

“Well, there’s water and a bowl for Buster, and I packed some extra sunscreen.”

“You’re always thinkin’.”

“I was thinking we could just hang at the beach for the morning, would that be alright?”

“Yeah! Don’t mind gettin’ sun at all.”

You and Niall drive to the beach and find a place to park. He had some towels in his trunk that you were able to lay out to sit on. You take a deep breath and put your sunglasses on.

“Alright?”

“Yeah…just a lot of good memories here.” You turn around and look across the street. “Nannie and I would sit on the beach, and Papa would sit across the street at one of those benches with his Walkman and a cooler of beer.” You laugh.

“He wouldn’t sit on the beach with yeh?”

“Well, I guess before I was born he was always in the sun, but he got skin cancer, so he couldn’t sit in the sun. So he’d sit in the shade. Then at lunch time we’d go across the street and sit with him. He was so cute, he always made sure to have a bucket hat for me, and to pack enough tonic for us.”

“No waves here, was it fun to swim?”

“Oh sure! I usually found another kid to play with too, and they had a ton of sand toys for me. There was this guy too that sold $1 fudge pops, and my Nannie would always get me one. Coming here, and the summers in middle school they were up in Seabrook were the best times of my life.”

“Maybe someday when you have your own kids you can bring ‘em here, and tell them all about your grandparents and how special it is.” You start to tear up. You smile and nod at him.

“C’mere.” He chuckles and throws an arm around you. You lean into him and sigh.

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“I know, you’re always fine.”

You both end up reading for a bit and listen to some music. Around eleven you decide to start walking towards Sully’s where you’d be meeting Harry. Buster was excited for the walk.

“Does he know it’s just fast food?”

“Oh god, you know, I didn’t even think to mention it. He could have fries?”

“Yeah, and ice cream.”

“That’s for on the way back after we walk around the castle.”

Harry’s uber pulls up to Sullivan’s, or Sully’s as you call it. He was wearing a pair of tan slacks, cuffed at the bottom, and a short sleeve white t-shirt tucked in. He had a dress shirt on earlier, but threw it in his bag. He gets out of the car and sees you, Niall, and Buster walking up.

“Oi!” He waves to the two of you and you smile at him. He jogs over to the two of you.

“I literally had no idea you owned sandals.” You say kissing him.

“I’m full of surprises.” He hooks an arm around your waist. “You look cute, baby.”

“Thanks.” You hand him Buster’s leash so he can take control of the dog.

“You two have fun at the beach? Saw your selfie earlier.”

“Yeah!” Niall says. “Started readin’ that book you recommended, it’s thrilling so far.”

“Oh good! I knew you’d like it, mate.”

You giggle as you walk up to the little fast food place you love so much.

“Harry, this is going to shock you, but I will be ordering chicken nuggets for myself.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“This is the only fast food place I like chicken nuggets from, and it would be blasphemous if I didn’t get them now.”

“You won’t get sick?”

“Nah, I just won’t look at it while I bite into it.”

“Grab me a hot dog and a coke, I’ll stay out here with the dog and keep a table.” Niall says.

“Thanks.” You smile and head in with Harry. “How was work?”

“Good, it was just a quick engagement shoot.”

“You look really cute too, so summery.”

“Just wait until I break out the jorts, you’ll love it.” You laugh and walk up to the counter. “Hello, can I please have one hotdog and fries, chicken nuggets and fries, and…” You look up at Harry.

“Another order of fries. Two cokes, and-“

“A water please.”

You’re given a number and you hang off to the side after Harry pays.

“I could’ve gotten it.” You say to him.

“I know.” He rubs your back. “So you used to come here with your grandparents?”

“Mhm, all the time.” Your number gets called and you grab the box they put everything in. Harry grabs ketchup, napkins and straws.

“Thanks.” Niall says when you hand him his hotdog.

You and Harry sit, and he watches you carefully as you bite into your chicken nugget. Your eyes close and you’re transported to a much different, happier time in your life.

“Oh my fucking god.” You say. “That’s good.” You say opening your eyes. “I probably won’t eat all of these, but damn, if that’s not a good nugget.”

“I like that the fries are crinkle cut, very old school.” Harry says, popping one into his mouth.

You all enjoy your meal. You take the bowl out of your bag and put some water in it for Buster. After he laps it up you all throw your trash away, and make your way down the walking path towards the Castle.

“Can you tour it?” Harry asks.

“I think so, but I never have.”

“Sometimes I forget this part of Boston exists.” Niall says. “Like there’s a beach, this beautiful park. Everything yeh need.”

“It was perfect growing up.”

You walk down a certain path that leads you to the playground you used to play at when you were a little girl. You stop short. It looks the exact same. Not rundown or anything, they just hadn’t updated anything.

“Y/N?” Harry says when he notices you’ve stopped walking.

Your bottom lip starts to quiver, and you feel tears rolling down your cheeks. You lift your sunglasses up to wipe them away.

“I just need to sit for a second.” You go over to one of the benches facing the playground. Harry and Niall sit on either side of you. “My grandparents used to sit right here and watch me play after we’d go to Sully’s, and then we’d go back for ice cream. I’m sorry, I didn’t think I’d get so emotional.” Harry hands you a napkin so you can wipe your eyes. “Thanks.”

“It’s okay, love.” He rubs your back.

“Being here…just makes me miss those times even more, makes me miss my Papa even more.” You bite your inner cheek so you don’t get more emotional. You take a deep breath and stand up. “Let’s keep going, I’m fine.” You smile. “It’s all good memories.”

Harry holds your hand the rest of the time you’re out walking. You take a bunch of pictures and selfies with the boys. Niall takes a nice one of the two of you and Buster. It was nice hanging out with the two of them without any hostility for a change. By mid-afternoon you make your way back to the car. You go to sit in the back, but Harry stops you.

“Sit in the front, babe. I’ll sit with Buster.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I don’t mind. Mate, we’re gonna do a bit of grillin for dinner, wanna come by?”

“Sure! That sounds great. I’ll pick up some beer.”

Harry hums his response. Niall drops the two of you off so he can go to the liquor store. You and Harry get Buster upstairs and some fresh water. He was hot.

“I’m gonna change quick, I’m sweatin’.”

“Me too actually.”

You follow him into the bedroom. Harry throws on a different white t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts. You put on a different tank top.

“Much better.” You say.

He follows you into the kitchen to get all of the food out of the fridge and he goes out to the balcony to fire up the grill. Niall comes up with the drinks, and the three of you settle in outside.

“This is perfect.” Niall says, sipping on his beer.

“Right? What could be better?” You say.

Harry gets all the food off the grill and puts it on the table. You all make plates and sit back to eat.

“Y/N, what do you think you want to do for your birthday this year?” Niall asks.

“Honestly, I’d love to do what I did for my 21st and just rent a house by the beach and go nuts. Twenty-five is a big deal, you know?”

“I’m surprised you don’t wanna go nuts at a club in the city.” Harry chuckles.

“She did that last year.” Niall laughs.

“First of all, you came for like five minutes. Second of all, I’ve done the club thing enough. I just think it would be fun to do like a really long weekend, get an air bnb and have fun.”

“Think we could make that work.” Harry says. “Who would you want there?”

“You, me, Niall, Sarah, Rachel, and Mariah.” You shrug.

“Alright.”

“Harry, when do you go to London?”

“Middle of July, two weeks. Y/N’s comin’ for one week, even though I think she should come for two.”

“Harry, I can’t take that much time off.”

“When do you go to Ireland?”

“End of August, two weeks.”

“Good, I’m sure your family misses yeh. I was gonna go for three weeks, but since I just saw my mum and sister I figured I didn’t need to be gone for as long.”

Your phone starts ringing, a call from Seth Rowan.

“Oh, great, your ex-boyfriend.” Harry whines.

“He’s not my, I never, shut up.” You grab your phone and answer it. “Hello?”

“Hey Y/N!”

“What’s up, Seth?” You stand up to take the phone call inside. They hear you laughing from inside.

“Nope.” Harry says. “Nope, don’t like that.”

“I still can’t believe her and Sarah were hookin’ up with him at the same time…”

“We did the same thing.”

“I know, but girls get catty about that kind of stuff.”

You come back outside with a glass of water and sit down.

“I’ll have to ask, I’m not sure what our plans are yet.”

“Well, anyone’s welcome, bring your boyfriend if you want too.”

“Thanks, I’ll definitely ask. Thanks for the invite.”

“Course, talk to you soon.”

“Bye!” You hang your phone up and take a sip of water. “My friend, emphasis on friend, is having a party on the fourth of July. His parents have a house in Hull on the private part of the beach, are you guys interested? His parties are a lot of fun.”

“Could be nice to be out in the open air and not in stuffy apartment.” Niall says to Harry.

“He’s going to invite Rachel and Sarah too, and I know they’ll want to go. He even said I could bring my boyfriend, isn’t that nice?” You look at Harry.

“Sure, I guess we could that. But only if we all go.” He looks at Niall.

“Yeah, why not? I love meeting people that my girlfriend has fucked.”

“Hey!” You slap Niall in the arm. “That’s not very nice. It was so long ago, we were like nineteen or twenty for god’s sake.”

“I’m only kidding.”

“No you’re not. Jesus, you guys can be such babies sometimes.”

“So if someone Harry hooked up with invited him to a party and you’d have to meet them, you wouldn’t care at all?” Harry cuts you off before you can speak.

“This one? She’s the least bothered person I’ve ever met. Didn’t have a problem with Myk, and-“

“Yeah but you and Myk hate each other. I’m talkin’ about a friend.” Harry looks at you.

“I probably would feel…uneasy at first, but I’m the one sleeping with him now, not someone else.”

“What was so great about this guy anyways that you and Sarah were sharin’ him?”

“It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t like oh you get him Friday and I get him Saturday. Neither of us realized we were hooking up with the same guy until we both went to one of his parties. We were both hooking up with multiple people at the time so it wasn’t a big deal.” You take another sip of your water and scrunch your nose. “Also, I really don’t want to think about the people I used to sleep with, it’s gross.”

Harry and Niall start laughing.

“Gross?” Niall says.

“Yeah! I’m having the best sex I’ve ever had, why the fuck would I even think about anyone else.”

“God, don’t inflate his ego.”

“You heard that though right? Best she’s ever had. See if Sarah can say the same, mate.”

“She has said the same.” You say.

“See! Wait, how often do you two talk about your sex lives?”

“Um…like all the time.” You look at the two of them. “You guys don’t talk about it?”

“A little.” Harry says. “But not all the time. Don’t you have better things to talk about?”

“Not really.” You shrug. “All three of us do it. It was really helpful in school, we could compare notes.”

“Do you still compare notes?” Niall asks. You grab your beer and sip on it.

“Y/N, are you saying the three of you go into like…intimate details about us with your friends?”

“No! Not…super intimate. We just talk about things, that’s all. Like oh do you like it when a guy does this? No? Me either. Stuff like that.”

“But you talk about us specifically, right? You must if she told you-“ Niall starts, but you cut him off.

“Hey! I’m allowed to have girl talk with my friends, and that stays between us. Just like whatever you two talk about stays between you two. Harry said you talked about guy stuff on your camping trip. How do I know that doesn’t include a conversation about my vagina?”

“Okay! That’s enough of that.” Harry says. “We didn’t talk about sex once when we went campin’, did we?”

“No, actually we didn’t.” Niall starts laughing. “We had real, mature conversations.” He stands up and pats the top of your head. “Something you’re young mind clearly isn’t equipped for.” He goes inside to use the bathroom.

“You’re two years older than me you asshole!” You laugh and look at Harry. “What?”

“Do you tell your friends everything?”

“Define everything…”

“You know what I mean.” You didn’t want to lie to him, but you also didn’t want to start an argument.

“Sarah and I bought all that stuff together…”

“But does she know you’ve used it.”

“I know she’s used some things and she knows I’ve used some things. I didn’t get into the nitty gritty though.” You say quietly, unsure of when Niall will return from the bathroom. “Like they don’t know…the specifics.”

“Y/N, I don’t want you talkin’ about that in general. That’s just for us. Imagine if Niall knew you knew about Sarah usin’ a butt plug on him.”

“I didn’t say specifically what she used.” You sit back and smirk. “Seems like you guys have talked about it.”

“A little…but I certainly haven’t told anyone about…you know.”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“No, but I think that’s a really personal thing to talk to your friends about, even if you don’t go into specifics.”

“Sorry…I won’t talk about it.”

“Okay.”

Niall comes back out with a three fresh beers and hands you both one.

You couldn’t have asked for a better Saturday for with your two favorite guys. Niall left around 8PM. Buster got settled in his dog bed.

“I need to shower, get all this sunscreen off me.” You say to Harry.

“Couldn’t agree with yeh more. You know, you really tan nicely.”

“So do you.”

You both head into the bathroom to shower. You take turns washing each other and you wash Harry’s hair for him, just how he likes. You both get cozy in bed and he offers to read to you for a bit. You loved when he’d read to you. You hadn’t had much time for it lately, so you’d take it when you could get it. You hoped every weekend this summer could be just as perfect.

[miseryff]

22. Playing Games

Paris

Dre’s dick game was immaculate. And when I say immaculate I mean free of flaws. There was no wrong he could do as he gave me deep strokes in the back seat of the Rover. That was five hours ago and I was laid up beside my nigga, having sex flashback from the next man. I know I’m a slut and I’ve accepted that fact many years ago. Derrick was knocked the fuck out beside me. I found his ass slumped in the club beside Fred, who was getting a lil lapdance from some chick.

My dad helped me carry him to my car, and I drove us home. I wasn’t lit or anything since Dre fucked all the liquor out of me. I’m kind of glad that Derrick was passed out because I don’t think I would have been able to have sex with him tonight. My pussy needed a rest after the beating Dre gave it. I honestly do not know what I am doing in regards to Dre, but I do know that I am not going to stop fucking him.

When Derrick is back in Texas I am going to need dick. Dre confessed his feelings for me at the perfect time, if we are being honest. A light laugh escaped my mouth as I searched for the ‘Hidden’ album in my photo gallery. This was where I kept my nudes and even some home movies of me and the niggaz I dealt with. My most recent nude was taken sometime last week when I was lit off this edible in the crib.

I quickly composed a text to ‘Big bro’ aka Dre, along with the photo. The message read ‘When we fuckin again?’  with a green heart. It was pushing 4 in the morning and I went to lock my phone when a message came in.

Big bro: pull up 2mm

I chuckled before liking the message. Yea, he’s with the shits. That’s how I like my niggaz.

xxx

“Now look at you, in bed sick as fuck. All cause you wanted to be grown and mix Dusse with weed. You know you be smoking on exotic so why you did that to yourself babe?” I was purposely annoying Derrick because babe was in bed hung the fuck over.

“Pass me the water and shut the fuck up.”

I shook my head at him but still picked up the water from the nightstand to hand to him. “Take these pills before you drink it.” I tossed two Advil AM pills in his waiting palm, and watched as he took it with the water. “You hungry? Want me to make you sumn?” I was getting ready to go home. I needed to soak in a nice bath and chill before I went to link Dre.

“Nah my stomach can’t take food right now. You coming back later?” He picked up the pillow that was covering his face, to send me a hopeful glance. “Yes, baby. And ima bring you dinner. Call me if you need anything though, and I’ll come back over.”

He groaned as response before sending me a thumbs up. I lifted the pillow from his face and pressed my lips to his soft ones. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Paris.” Hearing those words put a permanent smile on my face as I exited his bedroom. I did love Derrick, but I also knew that commitment was a tricky area for me. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. That’s a policy I chose to live by, so that meant he would never know about me and Dre fucking.

The house was quiet as shit when I got home. My dad’s car was in the driveway though so I figured he spent the night here with my mom. My siblings we nowhere to be found, but that was a regular occurrence. These two were active as fuck, especially since it was the summer time. Caelyn probably took Carter to the mall or the movies. It was 2:30pm so they was out cuttin’ up somehow.

I took a long bath and shower before throwing on a nude colored romper along with my floral gucci slides, and a cross body gucci bag to match. Calm fit for a dick appointment. I decided to stop by Wendy’s and pick up some food for Dre and I. I knew his order since we got the exact same thing at Wendy’s every time. Spicy 6-pc nuggets, large fries, and a Strawberry lemonade.

I didn’t tell Dre that I was coming because I never did. I usually just popped up and started banging on his door. Scaring the shit out of his drug dealer ass. I decided to play nice today and knock softly on his apartment door. He opened quickly but the face I saw wasn’t Dre’s. Who was this bitch?

“Can I help you?” The Paris look-a-like spoke with a little bit of an attitude. I chuckled before raising my voice. “Dre! Where the fuck you at?” I was gonn push past her but I wanted Dre to bring his ass out from wherever the fuck he was at.

The girl mugged me for a minute until Dre pushed her out of the way to greet me at the door. He took the Wendy’s bag from my possession before allowing me to enter the crib first. “Paris, this is Kayla, she was just leaving. Kayla, this my sis Paris.”

The Kayla chick didn’t seem to buy the whole ‘bro and sis’ talk because she called Dre a ‘dog ass nigga’ before making her exit. Shawty slammed the shit out of his door too. “You fucked shawty before I got here?” I asked with genuine curiosity. Whether he did or not didn’t really matter to me. Just needed to know why he needed my pussy if he was already getting some ass today.

He shook his head since his mouth was filled with french fries. “Naw, she came by to get some of her shit. She moving to Jersey I guess.” He shrugged, not really interested. “She kept her Ugg slides her and clothes in a drawer.”

“Clothes in a drawer? That sounds serious.” I teased as I dipped a nugget in barbecue sauce. He shook his head once more; “you got clothes here in a drawer too. Are we serious?”

“Good point.” We shared a brief laugh before eating in silence. “What we doing, Paris? Just fucking?”

“Yeah... I would hope so.”

“Aight, cool...”

“So hurry up and eat cause I need you to do that thumb in the butt combo again.” He laughed loud as fuck, damn near choking on his french fries. I sent him an innocent smile but I was being dead ass serious. I should make him eat my ass since he like playing around back there so much.

“You took the plan B?”

“Naw, ima get it after I leave here.” He nodded and said nothing more as he ate his food. I could not keep my eyes off his to save my life. I always thought Dre was fine as fuck but he never tried to fuck me, or he would always dubb my advances. So the fact that we fucked last night, and was about to have round 2 in a couple minutes had me kind of shook.

Never thought I would see the day.

xxx

“You good, baby? How you feeling?”

“I’m doing aight, babe. Need you here laid up with me though. When ima see you?” I blushed a lil bit before sitting up in bed. “I can be there in 30. Just lemme take a shower. You hungry?”

“Yeah I’m hungry now. Can you stop by Rico’s and get me a sandwich?” I knew exactly which sandwich he wanted too. “Yes I can do that. I’ll see you soon.” I ended the call and looked over my shoulder at Dre. He was sitting up against the headboard, shirtless and smoking a blunt. My bottom lip slipped into my mouth and I crawled up to be beside him.

He put the blunt to my lips and held it as I took a long pull. We held eye contact as the smoke escaped my lips. I had no shirt on either, only my thong. His eyes rested on my breasts for a little while before he told me to put my ass in the air.

“You bout to go see ya nigga?”

I moaned as he brushed his thumb against my ass. I was already wet and he was teasing me. “Mmm, I’m not thinking bout him right now though. Put ya thumb in--”

“You want me to fuck you but you bout to go see ya nigga. You playing a dangerous game, Paris.”

“Dre, shut the fuck up and eat my ass.” Hard slaps were sent to both my ass cheeks and even though they hurt like a motherfucker... that shit had me leaking. “Who the fuck you talking to?” He barked before grabbing my hair and pulling me back to him. His dick was pressed against my ass and his lips were pressed to my ear.

“Why ya lil ass playing games with me?”

“What games, baby?” I couldn’t stop the moans from leaving my mouth. I was horny as fuck and this nigga just casually had his dick sitting on my ass. “Can you just fuck the shit out of me? I want you to...” I was dead ass going to beg for this niggaz dick as if I didn’t have some Houston, Texas dick waiting for me in Long Island.

“You playing games with me. But it’s aight, this the last time we fucking.”

“You be like.” I chuckled before arching my back, and waiting to feel his lips up against my ass. “Lick from my ass to my pussy, now.”

[platypanthewriter]

Strangest: 10

The actual chapter, not another clip.  It’s so long, guys.  I’m peterqpan on A03.

Piggybacking would have been easier, Steve thought, if Billy was either out cold, or in any kind of control of his limbs.  He yanked a leg loose, waving his arm towards the door of his Camaro, and Steve hissed “You--drunk ass.  Knight.  Hold it--hold the hell up--Hargrove--lemme get the door open, you’ll fall.”

“Gonna let me fall, Harrington?” Billy giggled in his ear, in a gust of alcoholic breath, but threw his arm back around Steve’s neck and shoulder.  “Ssssh.”

Steve rolled his eyes, leaning back to squish Billy’s butt against the side of the Camaro, so he could  rummage through Billy’s bag for his keys. “I hope your keys are in here, you goddamn trespasser--”

“Thought I was your knight,” Billy flapped an arm at the bag, whispering against Steve’s neck.  

“Sir Knight,” Steve agreed, his attention catching on Billy’s bruised, bloodied knuckles.  “Shit, your hand--”

“Killed the door.”  Billy stuck his hand out, so they could both admire it.

“You sure did,” Steve grabbed it, waggling the swollen fingers, and Billy didn’t try to escape--just hummed in his ear--but then he was probably numb to the world.  He patted Billy’s bag down, rifling through the outside pocket, then sticking his hand in to bump into what turned out to be half the bottle of cherry vodka, and an unopened bottle of scotch.

“S’bad, it should go in the trunk,” Billy muttered.

“What?”

“In the trunk in the dark, where the bad shit goes,” Billy laughed, and Steve stopped shaking the bag, listening for keys, to squish Billy harder against the side of the car, and lean in to kiss his face.

“Where are your keys, Baby Ruth?  Knight?”

“Dumbshit nicknames.  Sir. Babe,” Billy slurred, letting go of Steve’s shoulders to lean back against the car and pat the pockets of his jeans down.  “Here.” He yanked a few times, then dropped his keys in the snow, and Steve sighed. “Shit,” Billy giggled.  “Dropped ‘em, your--your kingship.”

“Yeah, yeah you did.”

“Don’t put me in the trunk.  Harrington. Majesty.  Don--don’t throw me in.  There.”  His voice dropped to a stage whisper. “’s dark.”

“Christ.  Hang on, babe.”  Steve gritted his teeth as he slowly crouched to retrieve them, his thighs protesting the additional weight of Billy Hargrove on his back.  “The hell d’you mean, that’s where bad shit goes?”  The snow numbed his hands further, and he had to grab at them twice.  

“Garbage goes in the trunk,” Billy whispered again.

“Well, glad you cleared that up,” Steve rolled his eyes, almost dropping the keys again just as he grabbed them, because Billy shifted sideways on his back, feet kicking, and almost tipped them both over.  Steve grabbed the car, panting, and unlocked the door, scrabbling to open it. “Here you go, Sir Beefcake, god, you weigh like--”  He staggered back as Billy yanked on his head, kissing his ear. The car roof froze his fingers as he flailed at it, steadying them, before carefully turning and crouching to nudge their butts in the open door, and deposit Billy in the passenger seat.  Problem was, Billy didn’t let go, and Steve ended up sprawled on top of him across the front seats of the Camaro.

“...ow,” Billy muttered into his ear.  “Nng. Gearshift.”

“Let go, dipshit,” Steve wrested himself free from Billy’s biceps, and Billy grabbed at his hands and clothes.

“No, Harrington, you--you said,” Billy laughed, swallowing.  “Wait, wait, Harrington, don’t, come on--”

Steve widened his eyes at the roof of the car, then squeezed them shut, clenching his jaw, and didn’t say anything, particularly anything that involved yelling about the hour and his feet in the snow and Billy Hargrove being himself.  He let himself go a little limp.  Billy’s claw-fingers loosened against his shirt and neck, and Steve kept his voice even.  “Whatcha need, banana-dick?”

“...no...that was Tommy, not--I think I was some fruit.  Some other fruit?  Watermelon?  Chair.  Cherries?  You smell like...mm, coconut, Harrington--”  He let go to count fruits off on his fingers, and Steve grabbed the edge of the open door to pull himself out, then leaned in again, running a finger along where Billy’s back hit the gearshift and handbrake.  

“It’s my shampoo,” Steve snorted, shaking his head.  “You break your spine, there?”

“Yeah.”  Billy’s smile was soft under the streetlights, and Steve resisted the urge to crawl back up and kiss him, even if he was fucking annoying, and covered in jizz.  

“I’m gonna put all this booze you stole in the trunk like you said,” Steve leaned in to press a kiss where Billy’s stomach showed, then tug the sweatshirt down, and tuck it between him and the handbrake.  “You--you know you’re the good shit, right.”

“Don’t put me in there,” Billy tried to smack his hand away, and missed.

“No, listen.  You’re good, okay?  You’re--you’re...top shelf?”  Steve screwed up his mouth, thinking hard, and Billy cracked up, turning his head to giggle into the back of the drivers’ seat.  “Besides, come on, the trunk? I was out cold, but that had to be your sister’s idea, she’s a little gangster, remember, I bet--she probably always wanted to shove somebody in a trunk, you’re lucky it wasn’t, like, cement shoes, you’re lucky you weren’t next to some dead horse’s head--”

Bally cackled harder against the seat, but waved a hand at him, and Steve grabbed it, and gave it a squeeze.  “Come here. Harrington. You’re so dumb,” Billy whispered. “King Steve, King Steve--”

Steve groaned.  He picked up Billy’s legs and pom-pom socked feet, dusting off a little snow, and tucked all of Billy Hargrove into the car.  When he shut the passenger’s side door, both yellow socked feet pressed against the window.  

The lock on the Camaro’s trunk was frosty, and the car bounced on its tires a couple of times, jarring the key out of his numb hand as he tried to turn it.  The bouncing wasn’t rhythmic, so he hoped Billy still had pants on, at least. Finally, the trunk popped open--like Billy would even fit in there, Steve thought, frowning in at the scattered textbooks, and half-squashed bag lunch taking up nearly  the entire trunk.  I’d have to leave it open, bungee-cord him in, and put a warning flag on his feet.  He tossed the bottles in.  The picture album was still in there, and he paused, biting his lips, then slammed the trunk shut and shivered.  

 Carol’s bedroom light came on, and he could hear voices.  He rubbed his arms, crunching around to the drivers’ side, wiping the snow off the windows to find Billy rummaging in the glove compartment.  He got the key in the door, and it wouldn’t turn, so he knocked on the window. It wasn’t too frosted over, but in the dim light of the streetlights, he had to squint.  Billy waved him away, bent over a little notebook, and Steve banged harder with the flat of his hand. “Trespasser William,” he hissed through the window. “Open up.”

Billy frowned at him, wrote another word, and shook his skinned-up hand in the air, wincing.

“Billiam Hargrove,” Steve smacked the window some more, “--lemme in, come on, shit, it’s cold as ass out here--I’ll shampoo your hair.  Babe.  Come on.  Come on come on come on--”

Billy twitched.  He bit his lips, frowning at the notepad, and Steve blew on his fingers, wishing he’d brought gloves.  

“William Whatever Hargrove, open this goddamn door, or--or I’ll--I’ll microwave an orange.  So help me god.”

Billy flashed over a grin, trying to grasp the pencil with his scabbed hand, and Steve rattled the handle, stomping his feet.

“Come on.  Just reach over and unlock it.  Lemme in.”  The key still wouldn’t turn, and he grimaced, trying to test its limits without being left with a broken chunk of key.  When Billy still ignored him, he stuck the key in his mouth, and started stomping in a circle in the snow, wishing he hadn’t handed over the bobble hat.  Every time his hands got warm enough to pull them from under his arms, he knocked some more.

Finally, Billy scooted his butt over, thumping his legs into the gearshift, and licked the window under Steve’s hand.  “My pencil broke,” he said against the window.

Steve took the key out of his mouth, trying it in the lock.  It didn’t turn. “Sir Idiot Hargrove,” Steve smacked the window again, “--open up.”

Billy scooted closer, batting at the seatbelt, and pressed the notepad to the window.  His handwriting was suffering, what with his scabbed-up, swollen hand, but he’d managed to scribble Steve thinks falling in love yo, ending in a long dark smutch.  Billy pressed a broken-tipped pencil next to it.  Steve dropped to a crouch in the snow, rubbing his face with a groan.  

Billy knocked at the inside of the window--the car rocked as he clonked his knee into the steering wheel--and pressed his face against the window, calling “Harrington!  Where did you go, come back--” and Steve stuck a hand up and waved, rifling the backpack.  

He stepped back from the window, waggling the Sharpie he’d found at Billy, who thumped around trying to roll down the window, then finally opened the door, nearly falling out in the snow.  Steve caught him with a hand on his back, and pushed him back inside, while Billy tried to grab the Sharpie. Once he got them both inside, Billy leaning awkwardly against his shoulder, the bobble hat tickling his cheek, Steve yanked the door shut.  He leaned back against the seat, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them.  

“Gimme the marker, Harrington,” Billy whispered, patting at his arm.  “Unless you want me to forget.  Dickhead.  Shitface.  Liar.”

Steve tucked his chin to kiss Billy’s head.  “Y’know actually, you’re right, I change my mind.  Hell with you.”

“Have--have to tease you tomorrow.  Tommy, Steve says he loves me.  Loves me more--”

“Let’s write ‘you had sex with King Kong,’--”

“No, fuckhead, you--”  Billy lowered the notepad, grimacing.  “...fuck you.”

“I meant it,” Steve whispered against his ear.  “I’ve been in love before, I know what this is.”

“I need evidence--full of shit--” Billy growled, batting a hand for the sharpie.  “You--you’re just saying shit ‘cause you know I’m so--I’m so fucked up--”

“Jesus.  Here, lemme get it.  What do you want me to write?”

“What you said,” Billy snorted, whacking him with the notepad.  “Can’t just say this bullshit to me, face consequences.  Mom loves me.  You l--” he snickered, rubbing his stubble against Steve’s neck, along with a sloppy kiss.  “You--you’re an idiot.  Does Hopper love me too, pretty boy?”

“Not much,” Steve’s cheeks flamed as he carefully penned ‘YOUR MOM ♥ YOU’, and Billy took a shaky breath, biting his lips as he side-eyed Steve.  Steve went with ‘HOPPER KNOWS’ underneath, the coward’s route, and Billy swung his right arm over, smacking it into Steve’s hands. Steve swallowed, studying Billy’s swollen, bloodied hand, and Billy elbowed him.  

“...not gonna say something like that if I’ll remember, your majesty?”  His voice was rough.

“No, what?”  Steve swallowed, laughing.  “No, I--I’m on it.” He grabbed Billy’s wrist--slightly warmer than his, since he’d gotten Billy inside the car--and wrote ‘U R MY KNIGHT’.  Billy laughed, and Steve squeezed the Sharpie, shutting his eyes.  

“Go on.”

“...yeah,” Steve nodded, opening his eyes to stare at the Sharpie, and Billy’s arm.

“Screw you,” Billy pulled away, grabbing at the keys, “--don’t lie, Herring--Harrington.  Get out, go around, you--you can’t drive stick, remember, my--my king.  Harrington.  Don’t--say anything else, don’t say shit to me, I’ll--I’ll feed it back to you--”  He rubbed his face, swallowing, and smacked his sore hand over Steve’s face when he opened his mouth.  

Steve tried to shake his head away, then just grabbed Billy’s unresisting arm, and wrote ‘STEVE HAS FEELINGS’ except something tickled towards Billy’s elbow, and he jerked.  

“Try again.”  He stuck his hand out, and Steve rubbed his face, groaning. 

“If I--if I write--that, you’ll just beat me up tomorrow thinking it was some asshole joke.”

“Good, you--you fucking liar--”  Billy elbowed him, flailing his busted hand at the Sharpie.  “Consequences.”

“No, listen--” Steve grabbed his face, “--listen.  Dickhead. What do I even write?”

“It’s not like it’s true, just--just fucking--” Billy yanked at his hands, trying to pull away, and Steve pulled him closer, remembering at the last moment that Billy’d drunk some horrible hodgepodge of hazelnut and mint liquor, probably the cherry vodka Carol’d mentioned earlier, and possibly bananas, and then puked it, and he redirected his kisses to Billy’s freckles, and the soft curls hanging nearly in his eyes.  

“Hargrove,” he whispered, and Billy nodded, tipping his head to try and kiss his mouth, “--Sir Hargrove.”  Billy laughed against his cheek. “I--I do, I--” Steve gritted his teeth, swallowing, and ran his thumb up Billy’s smooth-shaven cheek.  “I--god damn it.  I like like you like a fucking third-grader, okay, tell me what to say.  To you.  Tomorrow. ‘Cause right now I sound like a fucking idiot.”

“What,” Billy snorted.  “You’re an idiot.”  He curled closer, squishing his ribs between Steve and the steering wheel, and Steve realized they were absolutely going to freeze to death in the car.  “Guess--I guess telling me sweet shit so I won’t remember’s better than--” Billy cut off, laughing against Steve’s neck, and Steve hugged him out of habit, before trying to push him back.  

“Lemme get us going, dingus.  It’s freezing--”

“Could warm you up,” Billy whispered, running his fingers down Steve’s throat, and biting gently against his jaw.  Steve’s dick twitched in his pants, his whole body turning toward Billy Hargrove like the moron had switched on an internal electromagnet.

“Holy shit,”  Steve panted back, glad he hadn’t been driving.   “Shit, no, I mean, later, maybe. Let’s go home, okay?”

“No, don’t--not home--don’t throw me out--” Billy laughed.  “No, your house, Steve Harrington’s house. It’s nice,” he let himself be pushed back towards the passenger seat, biting at Steve’s fingers, “--come on, Harrington, fuck me in--in the fort.  You don’t...we’ll have to be so quiet in my room, majesty.  Fuck--fuck my mouth to keep me quiet.  Ssssh.”  He giggled, pulling at Steve’s jacket.  “He’s gonna hear us.  Crash in with an axe all ‘here’s Johnny!’”

Steve stared at him.  “Holy shit. No, my home, where you live, asshole.”

“Like The Shining,” Billy mumbled.  “Break the door.  Kill us.”

“I hate your dad.”

“He just wants what’s best for this family,” Billy snorted, then started giggling.  “No.  No, he wouldn’t kill us, he can’t--he can’t lemme make him that mad, it’d upset Susan.  He doesn’t--he doesn’t wanna be the husband who upsets his wife, Harrington.”

“Murder is upsetting,” Steve agreed, wide-eyed and shivering, and started the car, and Billy cackled.  

“It’s upsetting,” he tipped to laugh against Steve’s shoulder.  “Axe in my head.  Why do I gotta upset...things...everyone...all the time, Steve Harrington?  You upset?  You upset with me?  Had to come out at--” he stared out the window like he’d never seen snow before, “--godfucking--forsaken o’clock, shit, your majesty.  Sorry.  Sorry I don’t give you a--any choice.  Just--I just force your hand, right--” he laughed, clearing his throat, “You’ll have to teach me a lesson now--”

“Jesus,” Steve whispered again, staring ahead through the rapidly-fogging windshield.  “Okay. Sweet--sweet potato?”  Billy started snickering, hunching over to hide his sniffles.  “Hey.  Hey, Drunk Billy Hargrove.”

“Present,” Billy swung his legs toward Steve, flailing his arms around until his scabbed-up knuckles hit the glove compartment--he didn’t seem to notice--and his back was against the door.  “Here.  Yo.”  He wiped his nose, trying to snort hard enough to clear his nostrils, which sounded disgusting.  

Steve shook his head.  “You need to help me surprise sober Billy Hargrove, okay.”

“Bzzzt, that person does not exist,” Billy laughed, letting his head fall against the seat.  

“He will tomorrow,” Steve saw Billy opening his mouth, and added, “--mostly.  Mostly sober Billy Hargrove.  We need to give him a present, okay?  Help me--”

“Give me it now, and he’ll forget.”  Billy flipped his hands palm up, and Steve grabbed the uninjured one and twined their fingers.  

“I have to tell you I love you, remember?  So you’ll believe it. And also--” Billy took a shaky breath, half a laugh, as Steve squeezed his fingers,  “--also you have to tell me how to drive us home--I can’t drive stick--”

“What the hell--”

“I could read you poetry.  We read some sonnets in--”

Billy snorted.  “You gonna--'m I a California day?  Not very temperate.”

“...what?”  Over the next few minutes of Extremely Scientific Investigation, Steve managed to determine that any mention of normal dating activities made Billy mutter about Nancy, he kinda wanted a crimping iron and a huge, rideable pet goat to ride into rock concerts, and Drunk Billy was useless at romantic advice.  Steve patted his hand. “You said you’d teach me to drive stick, remember?”

“Shit,” Billy whispered.  “Fuck. You sure we can’t sleep at--”  He cocked his head the other way, rubbing his bobble hat across the window, and hummed, “--back in there?”

“Pretty sure,” Steve grimaced, “--I think Tommy wants to fight me, he’s been--”

“He tried to fuck me with Carol’s cherry vodka,” Billy snickered, and Steve’s mouth fell open, wondering if you survived being filled up with vodka.

“Jesus.  Are you okay, seriously?”

“Told him you like me better now.”  Billy grinned over, and Steve drug his hand down his face.  

“God.  Tell me how to drive your car, asshole.”

“There’s a gas pedal,” Billy started giggling again, and Steve leaned forward to groan against the steering wheel, “--there’s--there’s brakes--”

“Yeah, you--goddamn--trespasser,” Steve moaned against the weird plastic finish.  “I got that, when do I use the clutch?”

Billy lifted their joined hands, then dropped them, thinking.  “O-Okay.  Engine’s got--it’s got four...zooms.”

“Speeds?” Steve laughed, eyeballing the gearshift.

“No.  Yeah?”  Billy ran his thumb up his forearm, where Steve had written that his mom loved him.  “It’s…”

“Zooms, okay,” Steve squeezed his hand again.  “Like Max?”

“Max,” Billy narrowed his eyes.  “Max...es. One is big strong Max.  Two’s...two smaller Maxes.  Three…” 

“More and more Maxes, okay.”  Steve nodded, wondering whether he should just piggyback Billy’s drunk ass home, and pick up the Camaro in the morning.  

“Littler Maxes are faster, but they aren’t strong,” Billy squinted at him, “--like.  Like hummingbirds.”  

Steve nodded slowly.  “So like, up a hill, we need less Maxes?”

“Start...one Max,” Billy nodded, “One big strong Max.  One Max to rule them all.”  Steve rolled his eyes, and put a foot gingerly on the clutch.  “Floor the clutch.  S’switch.”

“Right, okay,” Steve pushed it in, and the gearshift slid smoothly into single-Max position.  Is she an ostrich, then, he wondered, imagining one harnessed to the front of the vehicle, and trying not to giggle.  He lifted his foot off the clutch, and the car made a horrible grinding noise, and died.  

“Fuck’s sake,” Billy snickered.   “Clutch.”

“Shit, I killed Max,” Steve told him, and he laughed harder, finally scooting back around to face front, so he could hold Steve’s hand on the gearshift.  

“Clutch,” Billy said.  The gearshift was plastic, but still like grabbing something out of the freezer, and their breath fogged.  Billy’s fingers were warm where he’d had them in the pocket of his sweatshirt. “Start it again.”

Steve did, making it nearly out of the parking space before he hit a ridge of snow, rolled backwards, and it died again.  He pulled his hand away from Billy’s, and started it again, then slid their fingers back together.  

“Why d’you want me to...why should...thinking you love me?  Sober me, y’know,” Billy asked.  “Clutch.”  

Steve killed the engine again, startled, but then made it to the stop sign, sliding a tense few inches to the side as be braked, and drew a breath of relief.  “I guess I--”

“He loves you too,” Billy told the road ahead, “--clutch.”

“What,” Steve whispered, staring over, and Billy smacked his hand.  

“Drive.  Clutch.”  

“Jesus.  Really? I mean--”  Steve lurched through the intersection, letting Billy shift him into Max Second after another muttered “Clutch.”  “You--he does?  I mean--it’s not just, like, compared to Tommy and Carol, and your dad--”

“Screw you, I know the difference,” Billy rubbed his face, swallowing, “--clutch.”

Steve made it through an entire intersection without the engine dying, and yanked his hand free to plonk it on top of Billy’s, squeezing it around the gearshift.  “Christ.  Really?  I mean, not--not that you--” he tried to take a deep, sobering breath, and his voice cracked.  “I just.  Why--”

“The hell d’you mean why,” Billy growled at him, and jerked his hand free to squeeze Steve’s.  Steve fought back giggles, feeling carbonated, like little shimmery bubbles were rising from his toes and filling his brain with more air than usual.  “We should go on a date.”  The car died, and he restarted it, juddering forward to kill the engine in the middle of the intersection.  His frantic stab at the clutch let it coast to a slow spinning stop over a patch of ice on the other side, and Billy stared over.

“Fucking christ, are you drunk too?!”  

Steve leaned to kiss Billy’s hand on his, and lean his cheek on it, closing his eyes.  Billy just muttered a stream of nonsensical profanity, tucking his legs up, and leaving his hand where it was.

After a long moment of just grinning at the dashboard, his body curled around Billy’s hand, Steve pulled the Sharpie back out of his pocket.  “Gimme your other arm.”

Billy eyed him, but held it out, and Steve started drawing a series of hearts from Billy’s wrist up to his elbow.  Billy leaned against him, squirming. “Tickles like hell, Harrington--”  He kicked out, laughing, and Steve finished off with a big heart with H+H in the center, and smacked a wet kiss on Billy’s cheek.  

“D’you believe me?” he asked, and Billy laughed, lowering his head.  “Hargrove,” Steve growled, flicking his earring aside to nuzzle his neck.  Billy let his head loll aside, grinning, and Steve kissed up across the hickeys Tommy or Carol had left, blowing across the damp skin he left to feel Billy shiver and curl into him.  “Honey-Hargrove.  Sir Honey Mustard.  Prickface.  Sugar beet. Noodle pie--”

They both shook with Billy’s cackles.  “You--your petnames--holy shit, they’re terrible, they suck--”

“You call me stupid shit--”

“Not that stupid--”

“Love you.”  

“Sure, yeah,” Billy snorted, trying to catch Steve’s mouth and kiss him back, and Steve angled to kiss the corner of his mouth, and pulled away, running his thumb up and down the marks on Billy’s neck.  He wondered whether they were from a mouth, or somebody’s fingers.  

“What do I say?”  Steve restarted the car, then caught Billy’s fingers, interlocking them with his.  “Hey.”

“Listening,” Billy squirmed around to face him, face reddening in the light from the streetlights, “--go ahead.”

“I did,” Steve groaned.  “I said so much dumb shit, you don’t--you never believe me.  What the hell do I need to do, propose?”

Billy’s mouth fell open, and he squeezed Steve’s fingers so hard they stopped hurting after a couple seconds, and went numb.  “--I--I’m--I’m leaving, you--you asshole.  You--you want me gone, you don’t--”

“Doesn’t matter--”  It did, obviously, but Steve swallowed that thought down.  “I mean, I don’t, I don’t want you to leave, shit.”  He took a deep breath, squeezing Billy’s fingers back, and beginning to smell carbon monoxide from sitting in the car in the still air.  “Tell me what to tell you, dickbag.”

“What--what the--you--”  Billy started laughing hoarsely into his hand.  Steve ground the gears, and Billy yelled “Clutch!  Fucking christ--”

 By the time they got back, it was nearly four am.  Steve peeled his drunken parcel out of the bobble hat, and scarf, and sat him up against the kitchen cupboards while he turned up the thermostat.  They worked out a system--Billy would drink five more swallows of water for every kiss Steve pressed to his fingers.  By the third glass, Steve was laughing and kissing his ears, or elbows, and Billy was trying to drink though a wide grin, pointing next to his jaw.  Steve leaned in to kiss the soft skin under it, feeling it warm. He hugged Billy’s head to his chest, taking a deep breath.  

“Christ, gonna explode in--in piss,” Billy mumbled against him, and Steve snorted.  

“Go pee, babe.”  Steve got an arm around him and levered him upright, and they tottered to the bathroom.  

“‘Zit morning?”  Billy frowned around.  “Breakfast?”  

“Not for a couple hours.”  Steve tried to retreat to get a sweatshirt, and Billy yelled after him. 

“Dinner? You eat dinner? Harrington!”

Steve stopped to lean against the wall of the entryway, laughing so hard he had to wipe his eyes.  “...you hungry, sweetie?”

“Whaddaya want for dinner,” Billy muttered, and the toilet flushed.  

“You should probably sleep it off, Trespasser William.”  Steve went back in to steady him while he struggled with his jeans.  

“Did Steve eat?” Billy squinted at him, teetered, and fell against his chest.  He still smelled good, somehow.  

Steve rolled his eyes, scooped up his blitzed boyfriend, and Billy’s jeans slid off, catching on his foot.  He cackled, kicking them off, and Steve got a handful of naked butt trying to keep him from flailing away.  

“Hold it--hold on--hold on-- Hargrove--” he yelped, trying to keep all six feet of bulky basketball player in his arms, pressed to his chest.  Billy helped by pressing sloppy kisses to Steve’s neck and shoulder, and trying to hug Steve’s head.  “Fuckhead--Hargrove--I’m gonna drop you--”

“You won’t,” Billy mumbled, yanking at Steve’s shirt to press a raspberry against his neck.

“I will,” Steve assured him.  “There’s a mattress, and pillows, so it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Mmm,” Billy pulled his arm from around Steve’s neck, and let it flail, and Steve shuffled to compensate.  “...nah. Won’t lemme fall.”

Steve smacked a couple loud kisses on the parts of Billy he could reach.  “Not here,” he rolled his eyes, staggering out to the fort to crouch and roll him onto the pile of bedding.  “Onto the wood floor, jesus, you’re banged up already, don’t kill my house, you already killed my door--”

“...kill you,” Billy muttered, curling up.

“I’m gonna get some food, okay?  You stay here.”

Billy nodded, slumping into a pile of pillows.  “Eat--eat a damn orange, majesty. King.”

Steve leaned to kiss his naked knee, and Billy let his legs fall open, grabbing Steve’s shirt and pulling him in.

“Wanna fuck?”

“You’re half asleep,” Steve pointed out, after the first dry-mouthed moment where he thought of how ridiculous and soft Billy looked, his dick poking under the edge of his borrowed sweatshirt, with bare legs, and little pompom socks.

“Mmm,” Billy grinned up, sending a zing down Steve’s dick, and he bit his lips.  

“You’re pretty drunk.”  He smoothed his hands up Billy’s calves, feeling the goosebumps, and pulled some blanket over him.  

“Drunk as shiiiiit.”  Already forgetting his worry over Steve’s meals, Billy grabbed his sleeve and pulled him in, so Steve settled next to him, on his side, with his Neighborhood Menace curled up against his chest.  He stroked Billy’s hair, accepting the sleepy nuzzled kisses at his ear and neck, and ran his fingers up and down Billy’s sweatshirted shoulder, and then, under the blanket, his side. Billy squirmed against him, and Steve’s hand slid under the sweatshirt, up his naked side, and he curled closer--which was all weird, Steve thought, because he’d had his hands on Billy, all over him, he’d had his hand on Billy’s prick, and felt him come, but sliding his palm up over Billy’s ribs, and then his knuckles down Billy’s stomach felt different, with Billy half-asleep, occasionally humming to himself like a purring cat.  Steve slid his hand lower--not to Billy’s dick, which he was pretty sure was as drunk as the rest of him, but down his hip and thigh, smoothing his hand over warm skin.  Billy mumbled something, and tossed his leg over Steve’s side, and Steve suppressed snickers, feeling like he’d met a bald koala. He slid his hands up Billy’s sides again, memorizing the feeling, and unzipped the sweatshirt, so he could run the back of his fingers up the soft, curled-up skin of Billy’s stomach, and across his pectorals, and collarbones.  

By that point he half wanted to jack himself off, and half wanted to cry, so he rolled on to his back, swallowed a few times, and stared for long minutes up at the Christmas lights.  They behaved themselves as long as he had his eyes open, but as soon as he let them shut, the air in his nose got colder, because the glass in the door outside was broken, because Neil had been there.  He opened his eyes with a gasp, blinking away the image of Neil using Billy’s corpse to distract the demodogs.  Billy was warm and mumbly against him, curling closer when Steve gave him a squeeze. He reached out a hand to feel the cushions around the side of the fort--nothing like the tunnels, or the bus--or what he’d seen of Billy’s room, where his father probably hit him.   Is that why his room was around the back? Steve wondered, so he could hit him out of sight of the road?  Did he ever try to get away?  Probably not, he stared up, the lights going star-pointed as his eyes watered, trying not to blink, Max said he just took it.  If Mr. Hargrove hit him too hard, I’d never even have known.  He’d have said they fought.  He’d have said it was an accident--Steve grabbed a trailing end of the Christmas lights, squeezing the plug until it bit into his hand, and took a shuddery breath against Billy’s curls.  Billy Hargrove didn’t work as well, anymore, as a reminder that Hawkins was safe.  

Steve jerked awake a few more times, throwing a hand out to touch the fort, banishing the tunnels, and then a car pulled up outside, its headlights flashing across the walls, and he was disentangled from Billy and in the doorway with his bat before it had finished turning around and pulled away.  He leaned against the door frame for a long moment, rubbing his face, before tugging his coat and gloves on, and going out to circle the house at a slow jog. He finally grabbed a branch at about the height of his face and yanked himself up to sit against the trunk, watching his house. From the side could see the front porch, and the stairs to the back, and when his arms started to go numb, he tossed the bat back and forth between his hands.  

 By the time Billy staggered out, swathed in the flowered comforter off his bed, and followed Steve’s footprints to circle the house, it was getting light.  Steve kicked his legs, hoping they’d take his weight, and jumped down, as Billy tromped over. Steve braced himself against the tree, and Billy stomped the last few steps to steady him.  

“Did you fucking spend the night in a tree,” Billy asked flatly, scooping up a handful of snow, and pressing it to his head with a grunt of relief.  He had circles under his eyes, and still sounded a little slurry.

“I guess.”  Steve shrugged, crouching to try and rub some feeling back in his legs, “--I mean, not really, I didn’t pick you up until three, what time is it?  I mean, it’s not--it--it hasn’t been that long.”

“You spent the night in a goddamn--you--” Billy rubbed his face, wincing.  “You--shitbird.  Moron.  Asshole.  Did you--”  He punched Steve’s shoulder.  “What is this shit?”  Billy shoved his forearms in Steve’s face--not the sides with the Sharpie, his outer arms, with bruises, and Steve tripped stepping backwards, and nearly fell.  “Did...did you fuck me while I was so goddamn drunk I wouldn’t remember?”

“No!  No. I didn’t--”

Billy punched his shoulder again, then threw an arm around Steve’s neck, pulling him under the blanket.  He was damp, and warm, like he’d showered. “I’m all bruised to hell.  What finally did it?”

“What?”  Steve slid an arm around Billy’s waist, pulling him close as they walked, and Billy laughed.

“What the hell--you beat me up before you screwed my ass, or during?  D’I say something wrong?  Wait ‘til you got off to--”

“Jesus, no, no, look at my hands, look at my knuckles--”  Steve stopped, pulling his arm from around Billy yank his ski gloves off.  “I didn’t--I--I think you had some wild monkey sex with Tommy and Carol, you were talking about banana flavored condoms--”

“...shit, you’re right,” Billy grabbed both of Steve’s hands, turning them in his own, and Steve grabbed at the comforter as it fell in the snow.  “I do...kinda remember that.  Shit.  It’s all--” he waved his hand, “--hazy.  He made monkey noises, christ. Is that all that happened?  Who the hell was punching me?”  Billy dragged the elastic of his shorts halfway down his hip, and Steve covered a snort, then stopped to frown at what looked like fingermarks.

“Tommy or Carol, I guess.”  Steve made a face, and Billy shivered, in his shorts, in the snow.  “And you fell on the gearshift.  Shit.  And you’re freezing, I’m sor--”

“Don’t be sorry, dipshit, you didn’t do it,” Billy rolled his eyes.  “How come it’s fine for you to sit out here and freeze?”

“I’m in skiwear,” Steve snorted, wrapping the comforter around them again.  “And I walked around every time I got numb--” He staggered, flailing an arm, as his left leg started to wake up, and Billy leaned down to grab him around the waist and hoist him over one shoulder like a fireman, comforter and all.  Steve squawked, kicking, and Billy smacked his ass, walking back towards the house.

“The hell is wrong with you.” 

Steve’s face was flaming, all the blood that had congealed in his veins over the hours outside heating to a boil as his heart pounded over the arm holding him on Billy’s shoulder, and the warm hand on his thigh, just under his ass cheek.  He tried to prop himself up, flailing a foot and digging his elbow into Billy’s back, and Billy smacked his butt again.

“I will fucking drop you, shithead.”

Steve laughed, covering his face, and feeling the heat like burning in his gloveless fingers.  “No, you won’t,” he snickered, and Billy tripped, nearly tipping them over.  “Plant your feet, Hargrove,” he laughed aloud, and Billy growled, smacking him again, so Steve felt the heat rising against the chill air on his jeans.  He slid his numb hands down the back of Billy’s jeans, and he yelled “Fuck” even louder than he had in the grocery store.

Billy thunked him back on his feet just inside the door, tossing the comforter on the floor, and yanking the velcro open on Steve’s ski jacket to get to the zipper.  

“Shower,” Billy muttered, tossing Steve’s hat after his gloves, and kneeling to try and untie his boots with his banged-up hand, but Steve yanked him back up for a toothpaste-flavored kiss, and Billy laughed into his mouth.  Steve let go of Billy’s sweatshirt, running his thumb under Billy’s jaw to tip his head for a better angle, and sinking his fingers into soft curls. He slid his other hand under the elastic of Billy’s shorts, over where he’d seen the fingermarks, and squeezed.  Billy pressed him back against the wall, rocking their hips together, and swallowing a moan. “Ha-Harrington,” he panted. “Shower, you’re freezing. You’re like ice--”

Steve pulled him into a deeper kiss, trying to see around him to the clock, wondering whether there was time to tip him back into the fort, and leave his own kiss marks on every part of Billy’s body.  Billy turned his face away, laughing. “What the hell. Come on, you can fuck me in the shower.”  

It was a long cold walk up the stairs, as Steve finally started to shiver until his teeth chattered, and Billy stayed just out of reach.  “Don’t go too hard, I’m sore from last night--” he said over his shoulder, yanking the shower knob around to HOT, and Steve swallowed, surveying the bruises and scratches with a less-horny gaze.  He waited until Billy turned back, already half-hard in his shorts, and reached out to hook two fingers in the waistband, pulling them down further to expose fingermarks on both Billy’s hips. Billy dropped his hands to cover them--the bruises, not his half-hard dick--but Steve crouched, pulling him close to kiss along the finger marks.  

“Christ,” Billy whispered, his dick hardening so fast he staggered.  “Get--get in the shower. Your balls are gonna freeze off, man, come on.”  He grabbed Steve’s hands and pulled him up, backing through the shower door.  

Once under the spray, Steve got a handful of conditioner.  Billy turned to face the wall and brace himself, but Steve turned him around and wrapped his hand around both their cocks, shielding them from the water with his other arm braced against the wall.  Billy relaxed into his kisses, and Steve echoed his grin, stroking his cupped hand up and down both their dicks kinda haphazardly, between shivering, and kissing every single mark on Billy’s neck.  He grabbed a scribbled-on, bruised up forearm, and kissed those marks too, and then Billy made a weird noise in his throat and threw both arms around Steve’s neck and yanked him close, shaking as hard as Steve was.  

Steve slid his free hand down Billy’s back, grabbing his ass and pulling them so tight together his other hand on their dicks could barely move.  Billy groaned in his ear, grabbing a handful of Steve’s hair, and Steve mouthed at his neck and the side of his face, trying to press the awareness of Billy Hargrove, laughing and intact, through his senses into his brain.

“Say you’re okay,” he finally asked, tucking Billy’s hair back to bite gently at the shell of his ear.

“...’m fine,” Billy panted.  His blunt nails scraped Steve’s back.

“Tell me,” Steve asked, leaning in for another deep kiss.  He licked the last of the toothpaste flavor out of Billy’s mouth, letting his eyes flicker shut at the feeling of Billy laughing against his chest, and grinning against his mouth.  

“--good, ’s good--” Billy whispered against his mouth, his knees starting to sag, and Steve steadied them against the wall as Billy shuddered against him, moaning and clenching his fingers in Steve’s hair.  Steve muttered a lot of garbage, clenching his eyes so tight his vision went all colors.  He breathed against Billy’s neck, grabbing him closer.  The shower pounded down, hot around them, but Steve still shook, forcing his lungs to expand and contract as they jerked and shuddered.  

“T-talk to me, Hargrove,” he asked, burying his face against the wet skin of Billy’s neck.  “You--you’re--fine, you’re--” he swallowed down what was probably his imagination, but felt like both of his lungs and maybe his stomach, trying to force their way up his esophagus.  It was hard to talk, shaking so hard, and he remembered suddenly that his fingers were the ones clenched around Billy’s ass, and digging into his side, and he tried to stagger back.

“Jesus, your record’s fine, you didn’t lose anybody.”  Billy pulled him back with an arm around his waist, and Steve imagined breaking that record--Dustin’s screams having cut off in the tunnels, or Lucas and Max left in the bus to die alone, because Steve (The Idiot) Harrington had walked out and gotten surrounded and eaten, or finding Billy dead in a pile of his own vomited vodka.  Finding him in a pool of blood and cooking sherry, as his dad drove away.

“Hey, I’m okay,” Billy was whispering, when Steve’s brain flickered back on, disoriented like a VCR after a power outage.   

Twelve, twelve, twelve, Steve thought, shaking his head to clear it.  

“I’m fine--I’m okay, christ.  What the hell, Harrington, I’m here, I’m all right--”

Steve held him tighter, waving his jizz-covered hand in the shower spray before sliding it around Billy’s shoulders.  “You sure you’re all right?” he asked, hearing his voice crack, and Billy took a deep breath, hugging him back just as tight, and running his fingers through Steve’s hair.  

“Shit, yeah, I’m hungover as hell, but christ.  I’m just--I’m a little banged up, but it’s not on you.  Calm the fuck down, I just left for a night--”

“Thought your dad took you,” Steve took a slow breath, and his lungs hitched.  “Thought he took you, and I wasn’t here, you fucking asshole, I told you to wait for me and I wasn’t here, there was--there was blood on the goddamn door, Hargrove, I thought--”

“Shit.”  Billy’s arms tightened until Steve felt like his bones should break, but the pain felt good.  “I left a note--”

“I know--”  Steve tried to control his breathing, then just pressed his face to the side of Billy’s neck again, trying to muffle it.  “I--I found it, shit.  S-sorry. Sorry.  You--you left a note, you’re right, I’m--I just--”

“Ssshhh.”  Billy kissed the side of his head.  “I’m--I’m okay, Harrington.”  He laughed, a little high pitched and shaky.  “I’m fine.  Sorry.  I didn’t mean to freak you out.  Christ.”

“Sorry I’m losing my shit,” Steve mumbled into his neck, feeling his heart slowly stop thudding, under the hot shower, with Billy squeezing him until his bones creaked.

“It’s okay,” Billy breathed back.  

Once Steve finally pulled himself away from under the hot water--his usually-reliable tear ducts seemed to be over their mutiny, for the moment--Billy sat on the toilet, pressing his fingers against the bruise on his face from where the bottle had slipped out of his numb hand.  “Wonder what the hell I did that got me this one,” he grinned up at Steve, and Steve leaned in to push Billy’s hand away, and kiss the bruise.

“That was you, you fucking.  Sugar beet.” He set his jaw, and Billy snorted, leaning in for a kiss.  Steve relaxed, crouched naked in the warm bathroom, and let his eyes close, opening his mouth for Billy’s tongue.  

“Pissing people off?” Billy asked, against his lips, and Steve shook his head, pulling his head back to run his thumb over the mark.  

“You were lying on your back swinging a bottle around, and you dropped it.”  Billy burst out laughing, leaning into Steve, and Steve turned to inspect the hand that had broken his door.   It was swollen, and Billy winced as Steve gently moved the fingers. “You want me to help you make up your face, Knight Hargrove?”

“What,” Billy stared at him, sounding hoarse, and Steve considered.

“Oh.  I’m supposed to tell you you’re King Harrington’s favorite knight, and that sweatshirt is my favor--” 

“Holy shit,” Billy breathed, his cheeks going pink in the way that meant he’d either try to climb on Steve’s dick, flee, or throw down, so Steve talked faster.

“--and if you want that covered up, your hand’s a mess, you’ll have to talk me through it.”

“What?!  Hell no, I’ll look like John Wayne Gacy as Patches the Clown,” Billy snickered, wide-eyed.

“I’m good with my hands,” Steve grinned up, “--I think I can take a crack at it.”

“Really?!”  Billy leaned his face in his good hand, laughing, and Steve dropped to sit crosslegged, trying to catch his eye.  

“You’ve got a bruise on your cheek, and some down your neck,” he pointed out, and Billy put his hand around his own neck, pressing at them, before Steve pulled it away.  “Don’t do that. Sorry, I already darkened ‘em up. Sorry. Can I help?”

“Yeah, I--I guess,” Billy glanced up at Steve’s face, then down again, at the marker on his forearms, “--if you want to.  Should be hilarious.”

“Sounds fun.”  Steve shrugged.  “If I do a shitty job, you can always wash it off.”  Billy was just sitting, tracing the letters on his arms, so Steve leaned up to kiss his cheek, before trotting off to pull on jeans and a sweatshirt, and root around for Billy’s bag.  

 To smooth the foundation over the throat bruises, Steve cupped his hand under Billy’s jaw, sliding his thumb in to lift Billy’s head, and Billy jerked backwards, swallowing.  “Watch it, jesus.” Steve slowed, tentative with the little sponge, and Billy twitched, growling. “...you fucking grab my throat and I’ll tear your damn hand off,” he hissed, and Steve nodded.

“Somebody grabs your throat, I’ll hold ‘em down for you,” he muttered, distracted by the effort of matching skin tone.  

Billy laughed, his fingers clenching the letters on his forearms as he tried to hold still.  “You--you would, wouldn’t you.”  

Steve nodded, cocking his head to inspect his handiwork.  

“What the hell.  I’ll--I’ll help with your--gremlins.  If they need...something.”

“What?”  Steve frowned up, makeup sponge poised, and Billy snorted, grinning.

“I’ll help your kids.  It’s--I can help you do your--your stupid dangerous ‘superhero of goddamn Hawkins, Indiana’ gig.  I know I’m not here long, but if they need help and you can’t--mmph.”

Steve was careful not to smudge his bruise-covering efforts, kissing Billy--he dropped the sponge in the sink, and sank his fingers into the curls at the base of Billy’s head, pulling him close.  “Holy shit I love you.”

Billy smirked.  “I am even hotter than lasagna.”

“What?  No, no, I--I meant--”

“You’re good at this,” Billy snorted, eyeing himself in the glass door of the shower.  “I’ll call you up the next hundred times I get fucked on some floor, drunk off my ass.  You can buy a makeup kit and swing by my apartment.  Peel the condoms off my face.”  

The clench in Steve’s stomach, and the taste of bile in the back of his throat were familiar to him, from the day he’d fought Jonathan Byers--who had been looking for a missing child-- and spraypainted awful things about the smartest, most beautiful girl he knew, thinking she didn’t want him.   She sure didn’t after that, he thought numbly, staring vaguely between Billy’s neck and the makeup sponge, then clenching his jaw, and pressing the pigment over the bruises Billy had from someone else’s mouth on his neck.  “Why the hell you having sex with a hundred other people?”  He cleared his throat. “I just mean--”

“Sometimes you aren’t there.”  Billy shrugged, combing his fingers through his curls to hold them out of the way of Steve’s little makeup sponge.

“What am I, then, an appliance?”  Steve tried to laugh, swallowing, and busied himself dabbing the wet sponge at the bottle.  “Like a washing machine.”

“You’ve got a great agitator,” Billy snickered, sliding his foot along Steve’s jeans, and over his dick.  It leaped to attention like the traitor it was, and Steve huffed a laugh, his lungs feeling heavy.  

“Sometimes you want the laundromat anyway?” he asked, and Billy leaned in to kiss him again, laughing against his mouth.  

Steve did a pretty good job, he thought, even though he didn’t know how to do the fancy stuff.  He figured he’d probably put Billy’s eye out, trying the mascara, but the only difficulty with smoothing the watered foundation on to Billy’s warm skin was his dick twitching against his leg as he imagined messing it up afterwards--dabbing it off the circles under Billy’s eyes with a warm cloth, as he waited patiently, eyes closed.  Afterwards, in the bedroom, Steve’d peel him out of his school clothes, and kiss the last traces off his neck. “...you’ll just wear long sleeves, right,” Steve frowned at Billy’s fingers, clenching white-knuckled against his forearms over Steve’s letters, “--you’re gonna give yourself more bruises, man, come on.”

“What is all this shit.  Why were you writing on me?”

Steve stared at the letters visible around Billy’s clenched nails, and picked the safest option.  “El told Hopper. I--I think he knows that--I--um. I think he knows it’s you, shit.”  He grimaced up.  “That I’m gay for.”

“...well, yeah,” Billy snorted, grinning.  “What did you think, she’d tell him you were in a threesome with your ex and her new squeeze?”

Steve stared at him, heart pounding.  “No, I mean, he knows it’s you.”

“...who the hell did you think it’d be?  Anybody you told you were giving it up the ass to a dude was gonna know it was me.”

“...but it was just me, I was gonna protect Will--I didn’t mean to--”

“And when you say you’re into dick now,” Billy raised his eyebrows, mouth quirked, “--nobody’s gonna notice me?  Staying in your house?”

“But--but you’re just here because of your dad,” Steve squinted back, watching Billy’s jaw flex.

“Right.  Just because you’re afraid my--you think he’ll--”

Steve stood, stepping back.  “Check your face, we gotta leave soon.”

 He focused on driving, getting to school, mostly letting Billy’s conversational starters lay where they fell, and then hauled him out and to the nurse’s office.  She clucked about Billy’s fingers, and Steve saw him setting his jaw to be Billy, so he told her the victim had been a dumpster, and left them to it.

 Steve dropped into the chair to face Nancy, ostensibly to study, but actually to bury his face in his backpack, and make an anxious noise deep in his throat at the friend closest to “intelligent adult”.  

“Everything’s terrible,” he told his textbooks, through his bag, and she narrowed her eyes at the grid she was neatly lettering.

“Oh, here we go, just a minute, almost done--” she held up her pencil, squinting at the page, and then stabbed it down to squiggle in one last square.  “Right.  Done.  I think.  What now?”

“He’s--” 

“Who’s?” said Billy’s voice, over his shoulder, as he pulled out a chair and dropped into it next to Steve.   Steve wrapped his arms around his head, wishing he could crawl under the table, listening to Billy’s amused “Good morning, Wheeler,” and Nancy’s startled “Hello.”  It didn’t seem likely that a Looney-Tunes hole would open and swallow Steve up, but he wished hard for it for a long second, took a deep breath, pushing everything back down, and raised his head.  Billy’s leg was warm against his. Nancy’s eyebrows were nearly in her hairline. She clicked at her automatic pencil, pushed the lead back in, and clicked it back out, as Billy dug around in his bag, before pushing a sandwich baggie of apple slices over to Steve.  

Steve eyed the apples, feeling the everything he’d shoved down start to come back up, and, to his horror, a burning in his eyes.  

“So you don’t get scurvy,” Billy pushed the apple pieces closer, “--since you didn’t have breakfast, and you forgot to grab lunch--”

“Thanks,” Steve grabbed them, and his backpack, and shoved away from the table, stalking as fast as he could to the library door, and passing the closest restrooms.  He was fine, if he kept moving--he tried to think of the least likely place he’d be found, rounding a turn in the hallway as he heard the library doors open in a scuffle of squeaking shoes.  Billy’s shoes are wet, because he left these apples in the car, he realized.   He went out in the snow.  The apples were cold in his hand as he spotted the teacher he owed an essay on The Grapes of Wrath through the mesh security glass of her classroom door.  He knocked, taking a deep breath and resetting his face as she poked her head out.  

“Could you let me study in one of the dressing rooms?” he asked, keeping his smile casual.  “I’ve got lunch and a free period, and my friends are really great, but--” he winced, grinning, and she laughed.  

“I guess I can trust you not to mess up the costumes.”  He followed her to the next doorway down, and she unlocked it, then shook the keys at him.  “But if I find all the dresses ripped, I’ll know who was trying them on!”

Steve realized that was funny a second late, and laughed.  “Thank you!  Finally, time to get that essay done.”

She slapped his shoulder, his eyes stung again, and he swallowed it back.  She pressed her lips together.  “You look like you could use some quiet.”

He kept the grin on as she locked the door after him, then sank down against the wall behind the table, where he and his sneakers wouldn’t be visible through the security glass panel in the door.  The everything he’d been pushing down swelled up and squeezed tears out of his eyes, and he took a deep breath, closing them, and let his head thump back against the wall.  Squeaky shoes ran by, and the bell rang as his lungs jerked. He pressed his fists against his mouth, feeling them judder through a few shaky, wet breaths before settling into a kind of accordion action he tried to muffle in his arms.  Once they’d stopped--he felt the sharp pains he usually had after too fast a run--he slumped against the table, wiping his eyes on his sleeves, and wrinkling his nose in disgust as he squeezed it, and wiped his fingers on his jeans. Instead of getting up and checking the time, he ate his apples.  They weren’t as cold, and they’d gone a little brown, and looking at them still made his sinuses burn, as he pictured Billy in California, chopping apples.  

They were sweet.

 Rounding the corner past the cafeteria on the way to physics, Steve found himself mashed against the drinking fountain, Billy’s bandaged fist in his jacket, his breath minty.  “Behind the gym, Harrington.  Five minutes.”  Tommy whistled, and Billy shoulder-checked him on the way by.  

Billy was waiting past the dumpsters, hidden in the cement-walled dead end between the gym, band, and the back of the auditorium.  He shoved Steve against the wall as he came around the corner, leaning in to grab the collar of his shirt, his bandaged arm braced over Steve’s head.  The foundation was holding the line against the darkness under his eyes, but without his steady hand on the mascara and whatever else, he looked weirdly pale, and he smelled like he was sweating alcohol.  “So you can hear the shit coming out of my mouth.  Harrington.  The fuck did I do.”

“No,” Steve held his hands up between them, and forced himself to smile at Billy, and not just make an excuse about class to cover his escape.  “No, you didn’t--”

“Three strikes, I’m out?  You want me gone?  Give me three strikes, Little League champ.”

“What?”  Steve swallowed.  

“Before I’m out.  Give me another chance--”  

“No--it’s not--”

Billy let go of Steve’s collar, and rubbed his eyes, swallowing.  “At least you’re talking to me.  What did I...did I--did I kick your ass again?  It’s something--”

Steve drew a long breath, half wanting to kiss him, half wanting him to have already left for California, so Steve could be a mess without having to account for himself.  “Not--no, damn it.  It wasn’t a fight.”

“So there was something.  Perfect.  Did I gross you out?”  Billy grinned, reaching across to clench his fingers where Steve had written on his arm--again.  He has to be giving himself bruises, Steve thought, reaching out to tug at Billy’s hand.  He allowed it, watching where their fingers touched, then glanced back up at Steve.  “Will’s not here, you don’t have to pretend.”

“Not pretending, jesus.”  Steve slid his fingers up the sleeve of Billy’s borrowed sweatshirt, stroking the soft skin of his inner wrist.

“What’d I do, cry some more?  D’I beg for something?   Something made you look through me all morning.”

“Not--not all morning,” Steve protested, watching Billy’s splinted fingers.  

“Gonna knock you on your ass in gym,” Billy bared his teeth, “--climb on your cock--bite your fucking jugular-- pretending I don’t exist,” his voice cracked, “--what is this shit, you wish I didn’t fucking exist?”

“Hell no.” Steve squeezed his wrist, staring into Billy’s red, teary eyes.  “No, Hargrove, I--of--”

“--because there aren’t a hell of a lot of wishes I can grant,” Billy laughed, swallowing hard, “--but that one I got, your majesty--”

Steve grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him into a tight squeeze, rocking them together.  “No, no, no.  No.  Hargrove.  Trespasser.” Billy huffed a laugh, his tense muscles making it break and sound kind of like more than one note at the same time.  “Jesus.  Dickhead.  You--you--you can just--just say my name, christ.  Punch my shoulder.  Get my attention, asswipe.  Sweet--sweet.  Pie.  I’m just--I just tune out--”  

“Get bad reception?” Billy laughed against the side of his head, shaking.

“I do, I get all knotted up in my head--” Steve let himself squeeze Billy against himself nearly as tightly as he wanted to, before leaning back against the wall to clear his throat, “--about--lots of shit, it’s--”

“Screw you, it’s different today, you--” 

Steve thought of a way to ask about that morning, without dropping his neediness on Billy’s head like a dump truck load of garbage.  “You, uh, just--you told me you loved me.  I just--” Billy went entirely stiff against him, before his lungs started bucking control in the way Steve recognized, and he grappled clumsily, trying to grab and hold as much Billy Hargrove as possible.  “I--I said it back!  Hargrove!  I said it back, I wrote it on you--because you wouldn’t remember--you--you told me to write it--you wanted to give me shit about it later--”

“What, this?!” Billy laughed disbelievingly, reaching up to shove his cuff back to his elbow.  

“Yeah, yes, ‘Steve has--’”

“Steve has FEEBLINGS,’” Billy read, and Steve grabbed his arm to look.

“...feeblings?” he read, starting to snicker himself, as his eyes stung.  “Y--you were so drunk, sweet--sweetbread--”

“I was?!”

“You were, dickhead, you yanked your arm--”

Billy snorted.  “What feeblings do you have, Steve Harrington?” 

“Lots of feeblings,” Steve cackled, leaning into Billy’s shoulder.  “So many feeblings, I’m--I’m just--you said you loved me, and then you didn’t remember, asshole, and it--it’s shitty, it was shitty--that’s it, that’s why I wasn’t--”

“...glad it went well, I guess,” Billy stared at his arm, glanced at Steve, and started laughing again, wiping his eyes.  He made a show of licking his lips.  “We should cut class, and--”

“I can’t,” said Steve, who couldn’t take more of this conversation, though he did lean in to give Billy a hard kiss, on his mouth, and the unbruised side of his jaw, and then his neck.  He breathed against Billy’s skin for a moment, smelling cologne.  “--sorry. Sorry.” The bell rang, and he pushed Billy away hard enough he staggered back, and then went to class.

 When Steve wandered out--well after the last bell, and after staring into his locker for long enough that a freshman, their face entirely glasses, asked him whether he was okay--Billy and his car were missing.  

Max, bundled in a coat and mittens in uncharacteristic pink and grey, glared him up and down.  “...wait, if he’s not with you, and he’s not with us--”

“Maybe he’ll be back,” Eleven frowned around.  Her coat and mittens matched Max’s, but in pink and white, and Steve forgot his car-stealing home invader to grin at them.

“You guys buy matching outfits?”

“Yes!” said Eleven, at the same time Max said “No!”

“They’re nice.”  Steve fought a grin, for a moment wishing Billy were here to tease his stepsister, and then wondering whether that would ruin it.  

“Max is teaching me to skateboard, and it’s--” Eleven began, but Lucas’ voice cut her off, coming abruptly from behind them.

“Erica says she’ll ‘return him when she’s done.’”  Steve swiveled on one foot to face him, and Max ran up to Lucas, jaw set.  He had his walkie-talkie in hand.

“What?!  Is--what--”  Steve sputtered.  “Your little sister’s with Billy?”

“I--she seems fine?!”  Lucas flailed, and bit his lips, frowning back at Steve.  “She’s alive, or she was--”

Steve cleared his throat.  “Uh.”  Why does Billy keep getting kidnapped by children?  “What’s going on?  D’you know?”

“I don’t like him around her without El,” Max hissed at Steve, and he hesitated, pretty sure she was thinking about the same night he was, when Billy’d been so rattled and furious he’d threatened bodily harm to a child.  

He took a deep breath.  “--yeah.  Yeah, do you know where they are, Sinclair?”

“No, they won’t--they aren’t answering--”  Lucas took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “I just know she and her friend Tomika stomped out at lunch, and told her friends they were coming over here--and then I couldn’t get either of them to--he gave the walkie-talkie to her, and before I could answer it, the teacher confiscated it until after class--”

“She left at lunch?”  Max grabbed him by the upper arms, then pulled back, patting at him awkwardly, while Lucas stared into her face.  “I just mean,” she swallowed, glancing at Steve, “--that’s hours ago.”

“Look,” Steve put in, cautiously.  “I’m not saying we shouldn’t find him, but he’s been fine with Will, and Eleven--”

“Eleven has superpowers!” Lucas yelled, as Max shouted “You were with them all weekend!”

“I know, I’m--I just mean, don’t panic yet?” Steve tried, as Lucas tried the walkie-talkie again.  

They all waited for an answer.  After several minutes of Lucas’ increasingly intense “Hello?  Anyone? Over,”s, and Max yelling, Erica’s voice came through.  

“Shush up, guys,” she whispered.  “You’re scaring it! Give us a minute!”  

Lucas stared at the walkie-talkie, and after that, nobody could raise her.  “...she must have clicked it off.  She doesn’t even have a walkie-talkie--this one’s mine--”

“She must be using Billy’s,” Steve shrugged, then blinked back at the stares, “--what?”

“Why does Billy have one?” Max hissed, and Steve raised his hands.  

“Uh, Dustin.  He, uh, he gave us a set.  Why don’t we go back inside,” he suggested, and Max grabbed his elbow, dragging him onward to the doors.  

In the library, Matt hauled Lucas over behind a bookshelf to whisper fiercely, and Eleven sat at a table, folding her hands.  Without her having to look up, Steve felt the expectation that he’d sit down, and he succumbed to the pull.  

“I told Hopper about liking waffles or spit,” she said, as he dropped into a chair, and he choked on air, before smacking a hand over his mouth.  

“What,” he gasped.

“He said he doesn’t want to know--”

“Oh my god, what did you say?!”

“And we’ll talk about it when you’re older--”

“Oh lord.”  Steve buried his face in his arms, wishing Billy would answer his walkie-talkie.

“He was trying to tell me what to do if I bleed from different places,” she rolled her eyes, “--get a first aid box, duh.  You get a first aid kit if you’re bleeding from any of the places.”

“Oh nooo, Hopper, I’m so sorry,” Steve told the table.  

“He said to go to the nurse even if I’m embarrassed, and I said I’ll just stand up in class and say ‘Help!  I’m bleeding!  It’s everywhere!  Blood!’ so she knows it’s urgent. ”

It sounded like the librarian dropped something, but Steve was laughing too hard into his arms to look.

“The first aid book Jonathan had said you could use anything that would soak it up, as long as it wasn’t dirty.  Like bread.  I could ask if anyone’s lunch had bread.  You have to wrap it in something, so you don’t get bread in the wound--”  She cocked her head, considering, and Steve tried not to die imagining her trying to trim a PB&J into a maxi pad.  

Hopper, Billy, I’m manning up, before Eleven does anything horrible with a breadstick, he told himself, and cleared his throat.  “You--you should, uh, ask Nancy. Girls, uh, they--” he looked up to see Max and Lucas walking up, and swallowed, feeling his face heat like a stove burner.  “--ask Nancy, okay, just talk to her.  Or, um, or Joyce?” 

Eleven narrowed her eyes at him, then turned her laser concentration on Max, and Steve smacked the table.  

“Any word?!”  

Max narrowed her eyes at him, but he thought if he knew the conversation he’d just spared her, she’d understand.

“None,” Lucas said, his voice steady, but he folded his arms and stared at Steve.  

Probably, Steve thought, thinking of what he’d do to him, if Billy--he rubbed his face, sliding down in his chair with a groan.  Billy’d seemed sober, earlier, not that that meant anything.  Max started drumming her hands on her skateboard, and what Steve could see of Lucas’ arm shifted.  Max’s drumming ceased, and Steve again wished Billy was there, or that he was the kind of brother Steve could tell that Max was holding hands with a boy under the table.  

“Look, um, I--I did Billy a favor.  He said he’d help out you little shits.”

“He what?”  Max squinted, shaking her head.

“Why ask him?”  Lucas stared.  

“Maybe she thinks he’s okay because of me,” Max laughed, leaning her face in her hands.  “He’s my brother, right, he’s probably fine--she doesn't--she wouldn't--”  She was clenching her fists in her hair when the walkie-talkie came on with Billy’s voice.  

“On our way back--augh, jesus, careful--”

“Put my fucking sister on,” Lucas said calmly, and when Erica’s voice came through, he dropped his head in his hand, drawing a shaky breath.  

“We’re on our way, god.  Oh--” she cracked up, as an explosion of profanity came through in Billy’s voice, and peals of laughter from another little girl voice.  “We--we’re--oh my gosh, oh no--” It cut out on them both laughing harder, and Billy still muttering things he probably shouldn’t’ve, but Steve let himself relax, somewhat.  

Lucas got up and ran outside, followed by Max, and Eleven shrugged, checking the clasp on her bag.  “...Lucas...is afraid of Billy,” she told it, and Steve grimaced.

“Uh.  Um, Max too,” he ran his fingers through his hair, then tried to fix it, “--he’s, uh, you know how you--if you--if you have to get out of a bad place, sometimes you just don’t--care anymore?  How you get out? He’s, um, he’s kinda…”

She listened, watching his face.  “...I wouldn’t hurt friends.”

“No, um, he didn’t--he shouldn’t have done that, he--he didn’t know he--” Steve sighed.  “He’s trying to do better?  He is, he’s doing better, he’s--he’s choosing--” He thought of the King Kong threesome, and winced.  

“That’s why you want me along,” she nodded, pursing her lips.  “Is...is that why Max…” She bit her lips, clicking her bag open and closed.

“No!  No,” Steve waved his hands.  “I don’t--Max--she’s pretty honest--if she didn’t like you, you’d know!”

She nodded, frowning, and swung her bag over her shoulder, tapping her foot.  He drug himself up, and they wandered out of the doors just as Billy parked. Two little girls piled out of the passenger seat, ran around, and started tugging at him, and Lucas tried to grab his sister.  The other little girl elbowed her way in, and Billy smacked at her hands, and Steve saw blood. He yanked her out of the way by the backpack, and reached out to Billy’s torn and bleeding hand--it was smearing blood all over the steering wheel--and the front of his bloodied pullover sweatshirt.  

The pocket of Billy’s sweatshirt meowed.  

“Holy shit.”  Steve leaned his face in his arms on the roof of the car.  “Jesus fuck. I thought you were dying.”  

Billy scooted the seat back, froze, and yelled “Damn you, fucking sabertooth monster--” as the pocket of his sweatshirt writhed.  “--demon beast--christ--”

Steve tried not to laugh, a little giddy with relief--Billy had his hands raised, blood dripping from the heel of his hand, and down his fingers.  “D’you--um, do you need help--?”

The little girl that wasn’t Erica elbowed her way back in.  “It’s okay, Marcenia!  We’re almost there!  Get out!”  She grabbed Billy’s arm, yanking at him, and the cat yowled.  Billy made it out, but stumbled back against the car again, muttering under his breath.  

“What the fuck,” said Max, stalking over.  

“She doesn’t like you,” said the other little girl. 

“Eleven gets rides all the time, why can’t I?!”  Erica joined the fray. “Tomika was going to look all alone-- by the old Shireman house--”

“You were looking for that cat?!  By the Shireman house?!” Lucas put in, “--couldn’t it have waited ‘til after school?!  With backup?”

“It’s cold out there,” the other little girl, Tomika, apparently, hissed.  “She’s little.”

Billy rubbed his face, and shot a glare at Steve, waving at Erica and the other little girl, who was apparently Tomika.  “Are these two even yours?”

“Not mine,” Steve blinked back.  “Uh, welcome to babysitting, I guess?”

Billy jabbed him with two fingers.   “I want a divorce.”  

Steve started snickering, Lucas’ frown intensified, and Tomika tried to stick her face in Billy’s pocket, only to be met with a swipe from a tiny, fluffy, orange-and-brown splotched paw with blood on its claws and fur.  

“Marcenia Lyle Alberga,” Tomika hissed, holding her hand on her cheek, “--this is why you have no friends.”

“Can we--could I sort of--lift it over your head?”  Steve waved at the roiling sweatshirt, and Billy winced, nodding.  

“God, try.  Please.”

“...why is she in your pocket?” Max asked, eyes narrowed, stepping in, and rolling up her sleeves.

“He got her out of the tree,” Erica announced, and Lucas snorted, but stepped in with Max to grab the bottom hem of the sweatshirt and lift it--at arm’s length--while Steve pulled Billy’s sleeves over his bloody hands and lifted the whole sweatshirt off, yanking him away from it as Tomika grabbed the growling, thrashing bundle.  

Eleven ran up.  “I got a first aid kit,” she said, reaching towards Billy’s hand, then pulling back.  “I can practise now.”

“The fuck are you practising for,” Billy muttered as she drug him over to sit the aid kit on the trunk.  

“I need to know what to do with a lot of blood,” she said matter-of-factly, and Steve rubbed his face, before peeling out of his jacket to drop it over Billy’s shirtless shoulders.

“Why,” Billy pressed, frowning at her, and Steve left him to it, turning back to Max, Lucas, Erica, Tomika, and her kitten.  

“I can’t believe you skipped school to find that thing,” Lucas groaned, “Mom’s gonna kill both of us--”  

Tomika’s chin jerked up, but Erica threw an arm between them.  

“All right, every one of you little gremlins missed the bus, who needs rides home?”  Steve frowned at his backseat, and then the child posse.  Tomika narrowed her eyes, and blew a massive bubblegum bubble at him.

“Erica can sit on me,” Lucas sighed.  

“El can sit on me, I’m not getting close to Marcenia.”  Max crossed her arms, apparently familiar with Tomika’s cat, and Tomika sniffed.  When Billy wandered back over, his hands thickly bandaged, and gauze over his entire stomach like he’d been attacked by a demogorgon, Max glared up at him.  “So you do know how to be a big brother,” she hissed, punching his shoulder, and stomped around the other side of the car.  He set his jaw.

“Sooo it’s cold out here, everybody pile in,” Steve rubbed his jacketless arms, nodding at his car.  El was stuffing her first aid kit back in her bag, but Billy walked around and pawed at the passenger seat door, until Max roared from inside and got out to help him, slamming the door after her.

Lucas scrabbled at his hair, turned a truly vicious glare on Steve, and piled in, and Erica clambered after him, rolling her eyes.  Max was shoving Billy into the front seat with her foot, kinda looking like she wanted to laugh, or cry, and when Steve climbed in the driver’s seat, Billy was biting his lips.  

There was a mass crush away as Tomika climbed in with Marcenia, still wrapped in Billy’s bloodied sweatshirt, and emitting a creepy arcing rusty-hinge-like noise, but Steve just reached over and squeezed Billy’s knee, and backed out of the parking space.  

“Where am I going.”  He glanced at Lucas’ glower in the rearview mirror.

“The Sinclair’s,” Tomika leaned between the seats, and Marcenia yowled at the motion, “I can walk from there--”

“Hell no,” Lucas shoved her back over, “--we’re delivering that thing to your doorstep, so you can lock it in.”

At Tomika’s house, Erica piled out to help her extract her cat, and Lucas scooted over, letting El slide off Max’s lap.  They all stretched, groaning.  Tomika’s mom came out to clasp Billy’s hand through the window. “I’m sorry,” she said, wide-eyed, and showed him deep scratches on her arm.  Her voice dropped to a whisper.  “This cat, it only like her.  I call it bakaneko, a demon cat.”

“Yeah, it is.”  Billy frowned over her shoulder at Tomika in the doorway, her tortoiseshell kitten on her shoulder, grooming the blood out of its claws.  Erica waved, and he lifted a bandage mitten at her.

“She will not sleep without Marucenia,” she huffed, and patted his hand, grinning.  “Thank you.”

Max kicked the back of his seat, and he hunched his shoulders, nodding, as Tomika’s mom trotted back into the house, stopping to kick at a patch of thick ice on the walk.  

“Fucking hell, asshole,” Max muttered.  “Kittens out of trees.”

“That wasn’t a kitten,” he shot back, and she was silent for a long second, before she started sniggering.  Lucas didn’t say anything as they dropped he and Max off--though he gave Billy’s seat a kick--and once everyone else was gone, El settled in the middle of the back seat, leaning forward.

“No waffles.”  Billy glared over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes, and she dropped back against the seat with a sigh.  “I’m not going anywhere like this.”

“I did a good job, though,” she hugged her bag, “--with all the blood.”

“What the shit,” Billy squinted at Steve, then at her, “--what’s with the blood thing--”

“No, don’t--”  Steve waved a hand, too late, as El restarted her description of Hopper’s aborted lecture, and dumped the explanation of the female reproductive system back in their laps.  As they pulled up to Hopper’s trailer, Billy was gleefully relaying stories of his mom’s coworkers reactions to the White Pants Incident, and Steve had entirely too much information to ever look the woman squarely in the face.

“Ohhh,” Eleven rolled her eyes, “--that’s why I shouldn’t use a waffle.  You could have just said so.”

“Wait, what,” Billy cackled.

 When they got back to Steve’s house, Billy tried to talk to him again, and Steve grabbed his white-knuckled hand and yanked it off the letters on his arm again, and busied himself about replacing most of Eleven's piles of gauze with bandaids.  “Okay. I--I wrote your mom loves you, because--because I called her, and she does, okay.”

“...what,” Billy stared back at him, “--what--Harrington, if--if you’re screwing with me, I’ll--”

“C’mon, shit,” Steve shoved Billy towards the fort, and grabbed the phone--when he took the base off the side table and scooted it along the floor, the curly cord juuuust stretched into the fort, and he dialed from memory.  “Ma’am,” he said, and Billy scrambled to sit next to him, the phone pressed awkwardly between their ears.

“Is my kid listening?” she hissed.  “You better have both ears pressed to this phone, boyo, ‘cause I need to yell into ‘em--”

Steve winced, trying to pull the phone away from Billy, but he jerked it back, grinning.

“You listening, kid?”

Steve yanked at the phone, then registered Billy’s relaxed slump against his neck and shoulder, and waited.

“Yeah, mom.”  Billy’s voice was hoarse, and it sounded like she lost hers for a second, clearing her throat with a growly whine in the back of her throat.  

“Do--do you remember why you were born at eight months, Billy?”

“You fell?” he whispered, and Steve realized Billy was laughing--not in the furious way he had in the trunk, but relaxed, with tears running down his cheeks.  Steve flapped a hand for the napkins they’d brought out with Will, and handed one over.  

“I--I did not--no?!” she sputtered, and Steve couldn’t help snickering with Billy at how indignant she sounded.  “I did not--carrying valuables--did not fall--I’m obviously better at making children than most people!  You were done!  You were perfect, and I stuck a fork in--”

“That image is still gross--” Billy cackled, and she shouted over him.

“A mommy fork, and you were perfect, and I wanted to meet you.  I couldn’t wait.  You have heard this story.”

“Yeah.”  Billy’s voice cracked. 

“I wanted to show everybody in the world the very best baby, that’s why I put up with you showing up at the beach--I can’t believe you, there was water at the beach already, but no, I gotta dump my own--you know all the places I had sand--”

“You shouldn’t surf when you’re eight months pregnant,” Billy laughed, wiping his eyes, and Steve stroked his thumb up and down through the curls at the nape of Billy’s neck.  

“You--I hadn’t--I hadn’t even gotten near the water, I was just--you better admit you wanted to meet me too, buster--there I am yelling for everybody to appreciate my baby, be jealous of this absolute gift in front of their eyes--little sand monster--”

“Yeah, Mom.”  Billy’s voice was gravelly, and Steve squeezed him, feeling his eyes burn, and his lungs ache.  “...maybe I just wanted to surf.”

“Well yeah you did, you think my kid has bad taste?  And then taking forever to learn to swim--” she snorted, and Billy choked out a laugh.  

“I didn’t, come on.  I’m just not a ff--a sea turtle--”

“You are definitely my little land turtle.  Hey.  Other kid!”

“Steve?” Billy laughed, grinning over, and Steve worked the muscles in his cheeks to smile back.  

“Steve,” Steve confirmed, and she huffed.  

“--I can hear he’s still a huge crybaby.  I did that on purpose too.”

“Shut up, I forgot how embarrassing you are,” Billy muttered.

Steve fought down the same urge he felt watching Nancy’s mom coo over her little sister, or listening to Joyce’s fury through the phone over Will, or Hopper touching Eleven’s shoulder all the time, just to make sure she was still there--he wanted to fling bottles, or hit trees with his bat, or just call his parents over and over and scream as loud as he could down the line.  Billy’s mom didn’t wait for his reply.  

“Oh yeah I am, I’ve been saving up how embarrassing I can be--”

Billy huffed a laugh.  “That’s scarier than--”

“He’s a crybaby so I know when to scoop him up, and carry him around--”

“I don’t think you’ll be doing a lot of that,” Billy put in, grabbing a napkin and blowing his nose.

She replied through gritted teeth.   “I absolutely will--”

“He’s pretty tall,” Steve put in, and cleared his throat.  “I could--”

“I will lift him anyway,” she growled, and Steve remembered he wasn’t actually necessary for this conversation, and shut up.  “I bench 160, kiddo--”

“Whoa there,” Billy sniffled, “--don’t give yourself a--”

“How tall are you,” she wailed suddenly.  “I don’t have any pictures, you didn’t send me anything, how am I supposed to humiliate you in front of your girlfriends without little chubby Billy in braces--”

“What?!” Steve snorted, and Billy elbowed him, pulling the phone (and Steve, attached) closer to his head to yell back at her.

“Where the hell was I supposed to send them, it’s not like you--”

“To the prison?”  She sounded startled, and Billy went still.  “I waited every visiting day for you, you ungrateful--”

“What,” Billy choked.

“I...I took you across state lines, kiddo.  Don’t you remember?”

The plastic was starting to hurt Steve’s ear, wedged sideways so both he and Billy could listen, but he kept quiet.

“I--I remember g-getting pulled over,” Billy stumbled over his words.  “I, uh, I remember packing up the Camaro, I remember you hauling me out in footie pajamas--”

“I don’t--I won’t drink anymore,” she cut him off.  “I haven’t, I--I went to this--it was so boring, I had to bring your pictures and laugh at them in the waiting room to remember why I was there--”

“You--you laughed at my pictures?!  You look--looked like one of the Beatles, okay--” 

“You be careful there, son o’ mine.  An-anyway.  Honey.  I’m--I’m better, I--I’ve got a good job, I’m making payments on this place--I don’t know what to put in your bedroom, Turtle, I have--I haven’t--”  She’d started crying as hard as Billy, and Steve listened to the one and hugged the other, widening his eyes at the wall, and wishing he wasn’t the kind of person to hate someone, just a little, because they were the most important person in somebody else’s life, and he wasn’t.  “I don’t know you anymore, do you still--”

“He told me you just left,” Billy cut her off.  “I thought--you--I mean--”

“Oh no,” the phone went fuzzy and muffled, but they could hear her yelling.  When she came back, she took a couple deep breaths.  “I’m so sorry, I--you must have thought I died--”

Steve cocked his head at the wall, grimacing, and wondering how that followed-- maybe her brain’s just as jacked up as Billy’s, he thought, before she exhaled another long, shuddery breath.  “I’m--I’m so--I’d never--”

“You were scared,” Billy said, his voice even.  “--you were crying, you were--”

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m so--” she choked off, sniffling in what sounded like a full-on lung and sinus rebellion, and took some wet wobbly breaths.  “I--I’m so glad you’re okay--are--are you okay?”

“You got drunk because we weren’t going anywhere,” Billy said through clenched teeth.  “You made me grilled cheese, and then you had work to do, but you never got drunk if--if I had to get to school, or--”

“I didn’t--yeah.  We were home for the night.  I took some shots, and--” she sighed, and sniffled.  “Thought--thought it’d be fine, I was filling out--this is a long time ago, lil’ critter, you sure you--”

“Yeah, Mom, I wanna know!”

“I was pretty drunk, and drunk people are stupid, never be an alcoholic, son-o’-mine--”

Billy turned his head to kiss Steve’s jaw, and turned back to listen, leaving Steve even more confused than he’d been seconds before.  “Yeah, okay, definitely,” Billy agreed.

“I was--your dad left this--it was just insurance paperwork,” she laughed, her voice a little shaky.  “It wasn’t anything--I mean, I was his wife.  He--he needed to be able to take care of you, if--if anything happened to me.  I--I knew that--I know that, but I was drunk, and--”

“...Mom.”  Billy’s grip on Steve’s hand went numbingly tight.

“--and you didn’t see, but, uh, he’d been--he’d had a stressful week, he’d been--that morning, he didn’t--I’d already had a little vodka in my V-8, you know--”  Billy shook his head, and Steve pulled him closer. “--he’d--just--he’d been really--disappointed, in me, in--he’d--he just--”

“Yeah, I get--I know how he gets--” Billy cut her off, swallowing hard.  

“So I was--just--”

“Scared,” Steve said automatically, and they both went quiet, and he wished he was anywhere else.  “Sorry.”

“What was in the paperwork, Mom?”

“Life insurance.”  

Billy tried to scramble up off the bed.  Steve yanked him back, and when they had the phone pressed between their heads again--Steve half on top of Billy, lying across the bed, and feeling Billy’s heart thudding through both their clothes--she was taking slow breaths.  

“I know it’s dumb, it was stupid to get so--so upset-- I’m--I’m just--” she took another shuddery breath, “--it was just--he’d--he’d gotten all these--options-- it was so--it was such an--expensive policy, it--it said if I died in an accident, he’d get seven hundred thousand dollars, I thought--baby turtle, I--I should never have driven with you in the car, I--I was so--I was so completely drunk that I drove drunk with--with my baby in the car, I’m so, so sorry--”

“It’s okay, Mom, jesus,” Billy whispered.

“Yeah, He musta been watching that night,” she said dryly.  “Kept us on the road until the police saved you from your mother.”

“And took you to jail,” Billy swallowed hard.

“I understood why he decided to press charges.  I should--I should not have--” she took another deep breath.  “I--I was not--doing my--you were safer.  I--understood why you didn’t get in touch--”

“He was not safer,” Steve cut her off, smacking Billy’s hand away from his mouth so he could talk.  “Neil Hargrove’s a shit, he’s a--he’s a monster, I get why you both got drunk.”

“...hrm,” she hummed, and Billy tensed under him and rolled him off.

“Why, thank you, Harrington,” Billy turned to grin down at him, shoving him flat on the bed with a sweaty hand against his collarbones.  “Thank you so much for telling my mom I’m a fucking drunk.  I’m a fag too, were you gonna mention that one?  I’m screwing Steve here, Mom, isn’t that nice? Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?”

“The--the booze was me, kiddo, sorry, I didn’t mean to pass that on--whoops--” her laugh was as high and brittle as Billy’s, tinnier, with the phone at a few inches distance.  “--I can--I can send bad photos--for you to laugh at in waiting rooms--” 

“I can hear you crying over your drunk fag son--”  Billy bared his teeth down at Steve, shoving to punctuate his words.  Tears rolled down his cheeks.  “Didn’t I grow up nice, Mom?  I bet you’re proud, huh, lemme tell you about last night--” 

“Wha--what--ye--yeah!”  She yelled over him, and he stopped, rubbing his nose and sniffling.  “Just--just as I--” she took a deep breath, “--just as I--I expected!  Planned!  Proud!  You--your b-boyfriend?   Steve, right?”

Billy flopped to curl around Steve, still hitting at his ribs, but it didn’t hurt.  He pressed the phone back between their ears.  “What the hell are you--”

“Turtle.  He--he tracked me down, right, because you were sad, right?   Because you missed me.  Neil told you some--some garbage, and you--”  She sounded shaky, and Billy opened his mouth with a snarl.  “Is--is Steve good to you?”

Billy smacked the phone itself, jarring Steve’s ear, and growling “What the fuck, Mom, the hell is it to you, shut up--” and she hummed again.

“...is he nice to you, kiddo?  He--he treats my kid right?”

“He’s king goddamn Steve Harrington, he’s good to everyone, he’s not my boyfriend--”  Billy glowered into Steve’s face from so close he was blurry, both of them hunched around the phone.  

Steve leaned to press their lips together, silently, and mouthed ‘Love letters.’

“That’s not--shut up, Harrington--”

“What about my feeblings,” Steve whispered.  “Honey-mustard, you said you--”

“He’s really fucking good to me,” Billy said over him, his voice raw, and Steve squeezed him closer, kissing his hair.  “Fucking Prince Charming bastard, he--he does this shit--he carries me like--”

Steve swallowed back what felt like a weight, his eyes tearing up.

“Okay, yeah,” she cut in when Billy’s voice failed.  “Okay, that--that, I--I meant for that, okay, that whole eight months, all right, that was--that was the big thing.  My baby was gonna fall for somebody good to you, that’s on purpose, okay, you--you send me pictures, of you two.  I made you right, you’re perfect, how--how dare you--how da--” she was crying as hard as Billy was, folded into Steve’s shoulder.  “You--you saying my kid isn’t perfect--fight you, I’ll--I’ll take you out, you say my kid isn’t right--”

Just as Steve was resigning himself to being wedged between furious, bawling Hargroves for the rest of his natural life, Billy drew enough breath to let out an ear-shattering whoop.  He rolled onto his back, punching the air, and cheering like he’d made the winning play at a championship game.  

Steve could barely hear over the noise of Billy shouting, and kicking the air, so he pressed the phone entirely to his ear.  

“Billy!” she shouted.  “He isn’t listening, is he,” she asked.  “Send me some pictures, Steve Harrington, I need wallpaper.  I gotta show up all the other parents. Okay?”

Steve could only nod into the phone, but she seemed to get it.

“Keep an eye on my kid for me, okay?”

“I--I’ll do my best,” he whispered back, watching Billy roll to bury his face in a pillow and scream some more, and suddenly it was too much, so he shoved the phone at Billy, clambered to his feet, and stepped over him on the most direct route to the door.  Billy shouted after him, maybe--he was shouting, anyway, probably about his great mom, who was actually happy and proud to hear from her drunk violent kid with no friends, and wanted all his nerdy school portraits, and probably still had crayon artwork stuck all over her fridge.  

Steve yanked his shoes on without untying them, considered finding a jacket, and then heard Billy call his name, and grabbed a hat, scarf, and the doorknob.  

 He trotted unsteadily down the street, his heels brushing the snow through his socks, feeling like he was running in high heels.  He didn’t look back when he heard the door open and close behind him, but when Billy didn’t jog up alongside, he stopped to yank at his wet, knotted shoelaces until he could put his shoes on properly.  He ran from the urge to go back and cling to Billy like flypaper, like he’d wanted to cling to Nancy--like he always wanted to cling.  He wondered how much relief his mom had felt, in her own apartment, away from his stickiness.   I wanted to ask Nancy not to go to college, he admitted, finally, huffing a laugh, and imagined it--him returning every day after work, her keeping house as his wife, raising children, stuck to flypaper.   His breath clouded as he pulled on the hat, and reworked the scarf into more layers around his neck. The run got his lungs working, stiffly, like they were trying to expand against cold wet cement, and he tried to think about something other than Billy’s mom, and how she probably was at this moment adding weights to her bench press so she’d be able to lift him and spin him around, when he pulled up in her drive, sugar song blasting.  

He could suppress his stupid stickiness for the rest of the week, and be happy for Billy reconnecting with his mom, and being probably--now--much more enthused about getting back to California, and his beach, and away from Neil.  The thought of Billy backing out of the drive had him doubling over, and he wheezed shakily for a long minute, hands braced on his knees, then pushed himself back upright, and kept running.  

 By the time he stomped back into his entryway, he was mostly numb from running around in his t-shirt like a moron, and needed to blow his nose, so once he had his shoes kicked off, he pushed by Billy and ran upstairs.  He lifted his broken door by the knob to swing it inward on its single hinge, then sat it back in the frame, before running his fingers through his hair and pacing around the room, shivering.  

“...Harrington,” Billy’s voice came through the gap where his door hung against the frame.  

Steve cleared his throat, swallowed, and stalked off to the bathroom to blow his nose on some toilet paper.

“Hey.”  Billy knocked at the broken door, and Steve’s lungs clenched again, listening to the floor creak as Billy Hargrove waited for him to respond.

He tried to take a deep breath, and it sort of worked, so he tried again, closing his eyes, and thinking fixedly about disliking plaid.  “S’fine,” he managed, finally.

“...can I open the door?”

“Don’t,” Steve blurted, and then laughed under his breath, tucking his tingling hands under his arms.  “I--I’ll be right--I’m not--” he snorted, trying not to just open the door and slide his hands up under Billy’s shirt, and crawl in, “--I’m not ignoring you, I just--I need a minute--”

“...want some hot chocolate?”

Go away, Steve almost yelled, clapping a hand over his mouth to cover something really embarrassing, probably a whine.  “No,” he said hoarsely. “Thanks.”

“...you looked cold.”  

Steve stalked over and let himself thump face-first into the mattress.  “Cold out there,” he replied, wishing he was--someone else, somebody in the mafia, maybe, he buried his face in his arms, trying not to laugh aloud at the idea of Al Pacino emptying a revolver into Neil Hargrove, and then a swell of movie music, and Billy turning to say something idiotic, like Steve Harrington, you’re more than an appliance.

After a few minutes, the stairs creaked, and Steve made himself sit up, and get his homework out.  He didn’t get much done.  

 It had started to get dark when he heard something thump at his window.  He gathered up the towels he’d wrapped up in--since blankets meant going downstairs--and trundled over to the window, waiting as another snowball fell away before opening up.  “...Hargrove.”

“Harrington.  Come on, remember, ‘let’s sit down and have some hot chocolate, we’ll figure it out’?”

Steve laughed, leaning his face in his hand.  “Shit. Sorry.”

“You want me to bring you some dinner?”

Steve stared at him, his lungs suddenly airless at the thought of the memories he’d have every time he looked out his window.  He shook his head, swallowing, and forced a couple shallow breaths, while Billy stomped in place, taking a drag on his cigarette.  “I--I’ll come down,” Steve managed, finally. “Thanks--thank you. Shit.”

Billy shrugged, watching him, his head cocked, and Steve took a shaky breath.  

“Be--be right down.”  He slid the window shut, and hung up the towels, cursing himself for wasting one of his last days with Billy staring at the plaid walls of his room.  The hallway was warm when he opened his door, and he registered that his fingers had started to go numb, with his door shut against the heat, and Billy.

 Billy was grilling cheese sandwiches, and Steve knocked against the counter before sliding his arms around Billy’s waist, and burying his face in Billy’s curls.

“What, did you miss me, from all the way upstairs?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, in a moment of honesty.  

“You get lost up there?!” Billy started snickering, but Steve could feel the ear against his cheek heating, and kissed it.  

 The first bite of his sandwich was nearly as good tasting as kissing Billy himself, hot, crisp, and savory, and then Billy said “I’m gonna head home,” and Steve’s stomach decided it was already too full, and inclined to climb up his esophagus.

“...what.”

“It’s been fun playing house, Harrington--”

“What,” Steve kept his eyes fixed on his sandwich, lowering it to his plate, “--wait.  Wait.  What--what are you--”

“What did you think, your majesty,” Billy snorted, his sandwich crunching as he chopped it in half.  “I’m--I'm just gonna drive off into the sunset, answer your long and riveting letters--”  

Steve’s stomach clenched harder, all his organs feeling he’d pumped them full of ice water--stiff, and too full for sandwiches, or breathing.

“You gonna tell people you got a long-distance girl, B-I-L-L-I-E?”  Billy laughed, crunching into his sandwich again.  “I could be your bachelor party mistake.  Call me up, I’ll fly in...wherever. Shit happens at bachelor’s parties, right, nobody needs to--”

“What the fuck, Hargrove,” Steve smacked his sandwich down, “--you’re--you’re not a mistake, jesus.”  

“What’s in this for me?”  Billy kicked his foot under the table, and Steve looked up.  Billy’s eyes were still red, but he was smiling.  “King Steve?  You don’t like my dad, so I drop out of school--he’s not gonna transfer me, y’know.  You know how many jobs line up for a highschool dropout?  I’ll work at McDonald’s for life.  Weren’t you the one saying I wasn’t dumb?  I get okay grades, y’know.”

Steve nodded, swallowing, and got up to get himself a glass of water, mostly to give himself an excuse to face the other way.  Billy just kept talking.

“I get there and go to my mom before I’m eighteen, she’ll be back in prison for kidnapping a minor.  I can’t even get out of here, I’d need chains, and snow tires, and four wheel drive--”

“Wait,” Steve tried, and Billy did, raising his eyebrows.  “Wait, wait, no--Hargrove--wait, he--he hits you--he hits you in the head--”

“Steve Harrington the hero,” Billy took another bite, blinking rapidly.  “Gotta make sure everyone’s safe, so you can sleep at night. Give yourself a pat on the back, you’ve got me caring whether I graduate.”

“...so you don’t need me anymore.”  Steve felt stupid staring at his sandwich, so he picked it up, and shoved some more in his face.  

“Nah.”  Billy shrugged, watching his face, and Steve nodded, and took another bite.  It just felt like eating hot glue, now, difficult to swallow, and the edges harsh against his mouth.  

He took another bite after that, hoping if he kept eating, it’d force down whatever was blocking his throat.  “So when are you leaving?” he asked, proud of his even voice, and Billy dropped his sandwich, the chair creaking as he leaned back.

“What, you eager to see me gone?  Just waitin’ for that big party you’re gonna throw?”

Steve shrugged, eyes on his sandwich.  

“...you still…” Billy trailed off.  “Shit.  Harrington.  We can still fuck, you can haul me upstairs instead of mailing--”

“Great,” Steve rolled his eyes, and Billy slapped his hands on the table getting up, and stomped over.  

“Harrington.  Come on.”

“Stop trying to fuck me out of being pissed,” Steve sat his sandwich back on the plate, and slid around Billy to set it on the counter.  “I hate this talk, I’m going back up--”

“Wait, wait--” Billy grabbed his arm, pulling him into a rough kiss, and Steve let him.  “Let’s get drunk and fuck.  Come on.” His fingers dug into Steve’s arm, but kissing him felt good, as always, so after a moment of stiffness, Steve pressed back into it, letting Billy push him over to the counter.  “Come on--” Billy whispered, “--come on, come on--”  His lips and tongue were hot, and Steve let his eyes close, ignoring the clinks as Billy reached around his head into a cupboard.  Billy tried to keep kissing while flailing his hand at another cupboard, and Steve finally grabbed both his hands and pulled them together, leaning his head back and away.  “I’m not leaving, I just don’t--”

“Harrington--” Billy made a soft noise in his throat, chasing after Steve’s mouth, and Steve hugged all of him, tightly.  

“Easy, easy, jesus.  Easy.”  Slow that shit down, he told his heart, thudding in his chest at the memory of Billy just as wild-eyed, banging on his door with a black eye and glass in his hair.

“Screw you,” Billy laughed shakily.  “I don’t--I don’t know what works, you keep getting pissed off--”

Steve hugged him tighter, sliding an arm up for a handful of curls.  “‘M just--I’m mad at--everything--again, not--I mean--you’re right, about school, this is--this is bullshit.  Fuck.  I’m sorry, I--I just--I think--”

“Don’t run off again,” Billy pressed up for another rough kiss, biting at Steve’s jaw and lips, and rocking against his hardening dick.  “--there, you’re getting into it, let me--just--just--” He backed away, eyes flicking from Steve’s hands to the sink.  “Jussec,” He opened a cupboard, fumbled with a massive water glass, and nearly dropped it before yanking down the bottle of cherry vodka and pouring most of its contents in.  “Drink up first.”

“What?!”

“It’s just vodka, Harrington, come on--”

“It’s like half a bottle.”  Steve blinked at him, stepping closer.  

Billy jerked back, folding his arms.  “Drink the fuck up, your majesty.”

“I’m not--why do you want me drunk,” Steve held his hands up, trying to look harmless.  “You gonna set me on fire?”

Billy stumbled backwards into the fridge, edging back into the front room.  “I didn’t fucking set anything on fire.  You didn’t have to hit me so damn hard, I didn’t fucking--I didn’t use the tequila--”

“Fuck you, you fell!  It was an accident, I didn’t--”

“Yeah, fuck you.  Drink the damn liquor, asshole,” Billy sat on the edge of the table, teeth bared.  “When I tell you how I wanna fuck I don’t want you accidentally shoving my hands in the garbage disposal.”

“What,” Steve swallowed, feeling a throb of attention zinging between his stomach and his dick, “--no.  What.  Why would--”

“Or whatever,” Billy growled.  “Drink up or I’m out. Get blurry.”

“...won’t take this much,” Steve eyed the glass.  “I’ll--”

“Fine.” 

“Wait, Hargrove, c’mere,” Steve flapped a hand at him, and he edged closer.  “C’mon. I know you--you’re--”

Billy raised his eyebrows, folding his arms, and leaned back against the cupboards by the stove.  He smiled the way he had before he’d broken a plate on Steve’s face, in the Byers’ house. “Where you going with this, Harrington?”

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to catch you when you clonked you head on the door, but--” he flailed a hand at Billy’s snort, “--maybe I coulda caught you?  I don’t know? I just mean, come on, you meant to beat the shit out of me, can’t they like--cancel out, or something, I’d try harder to catch you now, asshole.”

“...I did chuck bottles at your house,” Billy laughed, rolling his shoulders.

“That--that didn’t hurt anything,” Steve squinted at him.  “Don’t--okay, you beat my face in, you slammed me around the basketball court--” he rolled his eyes, “--can we just--can we just start fresh, from there, I’m sorry I didn’t catch you before your head hit the door--I didn’t think--god, I didn’t think you’d--I thought you’d just hit the edge, get a bump--”

“Sorry I played basketball, your pussyship--”

“Shut up.  Hargrove. You really think--” he grimaced at the sink, and Billy clenched his fingers on the edge of the counter.

“I won’t know what you’ll do until you’ve done it, genius.”  He raised his eyebrows. 

“Shit, yeah, okay.”  Steve turned to consider the vodka, and Billy snickered, stepping over to press a kiss against the side of his mouth, before tromping upstairs.  Steve tipped back the glass. He took a couple swallows, then poured the rest down the sink, running his tongue over his teeth with a grimace.  

When Billy tromped back down, he was naked except for his socks and Steve’s sweatshirt, and he shoved by to grab the vodka bottle and tip it back for a long swallow.  Steve grabbed it, and him, pulling them apart.  

“Hargrove, if you have to be bombed, I don’t think--”

“Shut up,” Billy yanked the shirt Steve was wearing up over his head.  “--I’m ready, we can just go, c’ mon, your majesty--”

Steve wriggled out of the shirt, but held Billy out by the shoulders.  “Hey, hey, hey--hey.  We can--we can do something that doesn’t freak you out--”

“I’m trusting you enough to take a fucking risk, okay,” Billy breathed against his mouth, and Steve kissed him, stroking his palms down the sweatshirt material, over Billy’s shoulders and ribs.  He rubbed the edge of his thumb over the head of Billy’s dick a few times, to hear him grunt “shit” and push closer, and slid his hands up under the sweatshirt, along Billy’s hipbones.  “You like it, when I grab your hair, right,” he whispered across Billy’s ear, feeling him shudder.

“Do it.”  His voice was husky.  Steve got distracted, though, by the look of him, circles under his half-lidded eyes and lips red with kissing, in a loose sweatshirt, and the expanse of warm skin underneath.  He smoothed his palms up Billy’s back, pressing him closer for a kiss, then got a double handful of his butt. Billy laughed, sliding both arms around his neck, and wrapping a leg around his waist.  “--it’s--it’s not lingerie, moron--I’m just cold--”

“It’s soft,” Steve slid a handful of the sweatshirt against Billy’s side, and he hummed, his arms tightening.  Steve pulled Billy’s other leg up, lifting him out to the front room--Billy started laughing, leaning in for more kisses.  

“Don’t drop me,” he whispered, against Steve’s lips, and Steve shifted an arm around his waist, kissing him to cut off his “--after all that vodka--”, and knelt on the edge of the mattress to tip a snickering Billy back into the covers.  He blinked up, smile shaky, and Steve crawled over him to slowly unzip the sweatshirt a few inches, and lean down to taste his collarbones. As he left an even, shiny trail of hickeys, Billy laughed harder, squirming under him and patting clumsily at his hair and shoulders.  His bandaids caught in Stev's hair.  Steve’s thumb, pressed against Billy’s cheek, started catching tears, so he stopped for a kiss.

“You okay?”

Billy bit his lips together, nodding and swallowing, and Steve kissed his inner wrist, sliding the sweatshirt sleeve up so he could kiss all the Sharpie hearts.  It wouldn’t slide over Bill’s elbow, and there was an unkissed heart in there--the H+H one--so Steve just stuck his tongue between the cuff and Billy’s arm, going “MNEEEH,” and Billy smacked his face away, shaking with laughter.  He had tears running across his face. Steve kissed a few of them away, and then down his throat, lowering the zipper a couple extra inches to see more Billy, and kissed across from armpit to armpit, while Billy laughed too hard to shove him away, and pulled his legs up so his knees nudged at Steve’s butt.  

“You still cold?” Steve asked, grinning, and ignoring how hot his face was.  “I could zip you back up--”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Billy cackled, tucking his fingers in the top of Steve’s jeans.  “How the hell long does it take you to unwrap presents, jesus chri--”

“--no, I’m--I’m faster at that,” Steve slid a hand down to the bottom of the sweatshirt, rubbing up and down the cold skin of Billy’s butt and thigh.  “There’s never anything as good inside--”

Billy grabbed him by the hair, yanking him down for a long kiss, and then just pressed their foreheads together, panting.  “Jesus you’re sweet when you’re drunk.  Don’t sober up.  Christ.”

“Not that drunk,” Steve whispered back, and Billy started snickering again.

“You’re bombed, you’re all into my sweatshirt.”

“My sweatshirt,” Steve corrected, kissing across his flushed cheeks.  “You want me plastered so I’d be sweet?”

“Want you to fuck my ass,” Billy whispered back, lifting himself up on his elbows to deepen the kiss.   “Come on, I’m gonna die of old age here, I’m wide open,” Billy jerked at the zipper of Steve’s jeans, “--I’m so full of lube I’m lying in it.  You can just shove in, I’m all wet and soft like. Like a fucking--get these off, Harrington--”

Steve swallowed, grabbing at Billy’s hands, then swallowed again as his saliva glands reacted to Billy’s description like he’d just been handed a steak.  “Jesus.  Does--does that--does it feel good?  W--wait--”

Billy leaned up for a kiss, running his thumbs over Steve’s collarbones.  “Take your jeans off...Harrington.”

“You smell like some lady’s perfume,” Steve snickered, giggles rising in him at the thought of the vodka he’d downed.  He ran his fingers through Billy’s damp curls, drawing him closer to smell his head.  “Unless it’s you?”

“Fuck you, Harrington, it’s my conditioner, I’ve got conditioner up my ass,” Billy panted into his neck, and Steve started giggling helplessly.  

“Your conditioner?” he asked, running his fingers through the feathery curls, and feeling Billy’s cheeks bunch in a wide smirk.

“Shut up, it works--” 

“How come you got four thousand weird condoms and no lube,” Steve whispered, and Billy cracked up laughing, smacking a hand over his face.  “It was this edible shit--”

“No--” Steve snorted.  “No, no, no--”

“They ate it, Harrington, your friends are animals--”

Steve kissed him, toothy with laughter, as ever noticing Billy’s mouth tasted so much sweeter than it sounded.  It tasted like smoke, cherry vodka and peppermint chocolate, actually, and Steve licked his lips, running his thumbs over Billy’s cheekbones before getting batted away.  “You got a condom?” he whispered, sliding his hands down to push Billy’s legs up--they’d warmed, his whole body flushed and hot--and ran a thumb along his inner thigh.  Billy’s feet jerked.

“Just shove in,” he panted, “--hurry the fuck up, Harrington.  He ran his fingers through Steve’s hair, tangling them where the hairspray stuck it together.

“Come on,” Steve snickered into the kiss, “--don’t you want--I think I picked up a leopard print one at Carol’s--”

“Bareback.  Come the fuck on, fill me up--”  Billy wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist.  

“What the fuck, I know you were--you were being--careful--with Tommy and Carol--”  Steve started to pull back, and Billy tightened his legs, and grabbed Steve’s hair--not yanking, but holding him in place.

“No, you said,” he leaned up for a kiss.  “I needed tests, and I need to stay clean, if I’m gonna keep crawling in your lap.  That--that’s the rule.”

Steve stared down at him.  “So you’re gonna screw your way through the--through the whole laundromat, but I shouldn’t suit up, because..?”

“They’re so we can fuck bare,” Billy yanked him closer again.  “Come on, do it--”

“What?”

“I gotta be clean, if I want you, right,” Billy whispered against his mouth, squirming so their dicks brushed, and Steve grunted, closing his eyes.  “Or you won’t get near me. I’ve been safe, I carry ‘em, you can just sink in--come on, your majesty, I’m clean, I’m clean, I won’t get you dirty--”

Something didn’t seem right, and Steve tried to think what it was, running the backs of his knuckles down Billy’s stomach to feel him shudder.  “How come I don’t have to wear one, sweet--sweet cream--” he leaned in for a sloppy kiss, squeezing a handful of Billy’s ass, and felt his pulse thud through his veins, heating him like a furnace.

“...thought I told you last night,” Billy laughed unsteadily, squirming against him.  “Remember?”  

He unzipped the sweatshirt before him, like parting the tide.  “Remember what,” Steve whispered against his dick, and Billy’s hips jerked.

“You prick, stop it, I’ll come--” he hissed, and Steve laughed. 

“You--you sure you don’t want me to bag it?  I’ll do whatever you want.”

“The fuck is wrong with you, whatever I want,”  Billy punched his shoulder, “--what if I had a corkscrew?”

“What the fuck,” Steve stopped, staring down at him.

“Lemme roll over, you don’t really want all of this in your--” Billy started to roll, then yelped out a “Jesus fuck,” as Steve struck fast, like a cobra, bending to kiss down Billy’s stomach.  He was starting to glisten a little, in the Christmas lights, and Steve unzipped the sweatshirt the final couple of inches, scooting to kiss the line from Billy’s bellybutton down.  Billy laughed, clenching his legs around Steve’s head and shoulders.  

It felt kinda dirty, having sex in the fort Will built, and Steve felt his face flush further.  He’d forgotten Billy was a little ticklish--his legs flailed as he yelled “Harrington!” a few times, alternating with “bastard” and “jesus”, before Steve spread the sweatshirt away from Billy’s sides, and mouthed down his belly to lick firmly up his dick, root to tip.   

It’d be faster, Steve thought, to just jack it myself, and lick his.  Billy looked so close, head back, eyes fluttering shut, sweat glistening across his chest, the slow drip of precum gleaming in the Christmas lights as he writhed under Steve’s tongue.  Steve slid a hand down Billy’s butt until he felt wetness, recognizing the smell of the conditioner, and unzipped himself with his other hand, shoving his pants down.

“Come on, Harrington.  It’s just a hole. Just use it--doesn’t make you--god,” he grunted as Steve slid a finger inside, where Billy was hot and tight and starting to go sticky where the lube was drying.  “I’m the--I’m the piece of shit--begging for it.”  

“You’re the best shit,” Steve mumbled, kissing Billy’s bent knee, and sliding two fingers in in fascination.  “Jesus, look at you.” 

Billy whined, jerking against him, then elbowed him in the ribs.  “Get your hand outta my ass, I’m gonna-- christ.” 

“Sorry.  Sorry.  You okay, though?”

“Fine, it’s just.  It’s sore. ” Billy lowered his lashes as Steve knelt awkwardly between Billy’s legs, their dicks brushing.  

“You kinda whined,” Steve leaned in to run his thumb up Billy’s cheek with his cleaner hand, and Billy leaned into it, closing his eyes.  His chin jerked up as Steve’s stomach pressed their cocks together. “Hey,” Steve propped himself on his elbows. “We could just--”

“It’s fine, jesus.”  Billy rolled his hips, his firm thigh muscles and abs lifting himself and Steve an inch off the bed, and Steve choked, letting himself fall forward to bury his face in Billy’s neck.  Billy huffed, laughing.

“...god, you feel good,” Steve whispered, licking the salt off his neck.  

“...you’re lying on a guy’s dick,” Billy cackled.  “You’re so drunk, Harrington, jesus.”

“Not that drunk,” Steve let their dicks drag against each other as he hitched himself up for a kiss.  “You just feel good.  You’re--you look all happy.”  The pulse under Steve’s fingers sped up as he bit at Billy’s chapped lips, and licked into his mouth.

“God, you’re so drunk,” Billy kissed back, fingers clenched in Steve’s hair, and jeans.  Steve tried not to move too suddenly, but he reached out for a pillow, and Billy grabbed his wrists.  “Gonna give me some more bruises?”

“No, yeah, you don’t need any more bruises,” Steve paused, watching him pant.  “You...you sure you’re, uh, ready for this?”

“Shove on in, just--just lemme roll over.”  

Steve paused, leaning in for another taste of Billy’s mouth as he thought, then bit gently at Billy’s stubble and the delicate skin under his chin until he started cussing and kicking the air.  “What--”

“Fucking --move. Let me flip over, you don’t want my--,” he snorted, waving a hand at his cock.  

Steve bit his lip, thinking.  “What if I do?”

“You fucking don’t, you’ll--you’ll wake up tomorrow and--” his breaths were coming faster, and Steve leaned his elbows on either side of Billy’s head, sliding his fingers in the feathered waves as Billy squirmed underneath him.  Every time his brain started to haze into physical sensation, Billy winced, or swallowed hard, and Steve had to remind himself Billy wasn’t gonna be like having sex with anyone else.

“Hey,” Steve whispered, kissing him openmouthed.  “If you really want somebody in there again. What if I just push your legs up and sink in.”  Billy made a raw noise deep in his throat, his eyes going shiny, and Steve slowly scooted himself over to crouch alongside him.  “Is that what you want? Jesus. You--you sure?  You’re not gonna be able to sit down tomorrow.  Want me to just jack you off?”

“Look more like a chick from the back,” Billy laughed up, and Steve rolled his eyes and swung his leg over Billy’s waist, sitting across his chest and arms, and leaning in for another kiss as Billy made a noise in his throat that might have emerged as a yelp.  

“Shit, shit, sorry,” Steve scrambled to hands and knees, trying not to hold any of Billy down.  “I know not to pin you, but I keep forgetting, sorry--”

Billy took a shaky breath, then reached up and rested his hand around Steve’s neck, swallowing.  “You fucking--you--if you beat on me I’ll slice you open with a broken bottle, Harrington, if you put your hands on my neck--”

“Shit, I won’t.  God damn.” Steve leaned in to kiss him, sliding his un-lubed thumb in the side of Billy’s mouth as an additional gag.  “I’m not gonna kick your ass, dude. You had a better idea,” he grinned at Billy’s snort.

Billy jerked his head away to talk.  “Get in me, fuckhead.”

“Yeah,” Steve whispered back, clenching his hand in Billy’s hair to feel him slump, groaning eagerly into his mouth.  When he lifted his hand, Billy flinched away, so he put them back down and didn’t lift them, sliding his fingertips down Billy’s side, and following them with his lips along Billy’s warm, toned skin as he crawled backwards.  When he cupped Billy’s butt, he found the conditioner. It was more sticky than slippery. “...you sure you aren’t too sore?” he asked, pushing Billy’s legs apart with his elbow, and rubbing his finger over the reddened, shiny skin.

“Shit--” Billy’s voice cracked, and his legs jerked, so Steve did it again, watching Billy’s eyes flutter shut, and his panting make his chest flex and gleam under the Christmas lights.  Steve reached down to rub some precome over his own dick, wishing he had some lotion or something, and at the motion Billy’s jaw flexed, and he grabbed at the marker on his arms, digging his nails in.  He’d gone from his relaxed sprawl to breathing shallowly, and Steve stopped, rubbing his thumb up and down Billy’s rim. It didn’t smell, or anything, which was a relief, and he wondered if Billy’d washed it earlier.   How’d he get soap in there? he wondered, stroking the smooth skin, and Billy smacked a hand over his face to cut off a moan.  Steve leaned in, and Billy’s legs twitched again--towards each other, like his arms.   Like he’s trying to protect himself.   Steve bit his lips, then leaned in and swiped his tongue over the tip of Billy’s prick.  

“WAAH don’t!” Billy yelped, as his dick leapt against Steve’s mouth.  “Shit, I’m sorry, shit, Harrington, please, please--”

“What are you begging for...Billy--,” Steve breathed across it, and Billy came all over his face.  He propped himself up on his elbows, eyes already tearing up, and Steve patted his knee, trying to wipe the jizz out of his eye, and firming his lips against the liquid dripping down them.  

Billy started muttering under his breath, shaking his head, and Steve snorted, patted his knee again, and staggered off to the kitchen.

“Shit god damn it fucking whore bitch bastard--” Billy yelled.  “Harrington, c’mon, please, I’m sorry, come back, you can still--I’ll suck your dick, whatever you want--”

“Just a minute,” Steve yelled back, getting the stuff in his mouth, and wrinkling his nose thoughtfully.  “...not too bad, really,” he called over his shoulder, before sticking his head under the faucet. When he lifted it again, Billy was still saying something, but it sounded like he’d stuck his head in the pillows.  “Hey, knight, you want me to just jack off? Since--”

There was another explosion of something in the pillows, and Steve grimaced.  “I’m not mad, just sayin’--” 

Billy had his head buried in pillows, but he shoved them away as Steve dropped next to him.  

“Shit,” he mumbled, his voice gone high.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck--”

Steve pulled him in, their skin sticking together, and pressed his cheek to Billy’s sweaty hair.  “Breathe.  Come on.  Breathe in.”

“You’re gonna murder me,” Billy choked out a laugh.  Warm water dripped in Steve’s ear.  “Once you sober up. You--you been pissed all day--you’re gonna fucking--drag me behind your car.  Fucking--fucking fag just--”

Steve yanked him closer, kissing him open mouthed.  Every time Billy took a breath to speak, he held their mouths together again, until Billy shoved him off to roll away and use his wrists to wipe his nose.  “...you’re licking my snot, you dumb shit,” he gasped out, and Steve grabbed a handful of sheet and scrubbed it over his face, then Billy’s, before letting him bat it away.

“What the hell are you doing, Hargrove,” Steve spooned up behind him, sliding a hand around to run up and down Billy’s shuddering stomach.  

“Shoulda drunk the other half the bottle,” Billy snorted, blowing his nose in the sheet and shoving it away.  “Christ.”

“...because...if I see I’m fucking a guy, I’ll lose my shit or--”

Billy exploded in a rage of profanity, and Steve clamped a hand over his mouth, feeling the buzz of words against his palm, and tears pooling and spilling over between the web of his thumb and Billy’s nose.  

“Shut up so I can move my hand, or you’ll drown,” he whispered, and Billy snorted, snickering into the bedclothes when Steve pulled his hand back to wipe it against the bottom sheet in front of Billy’s face.  

Billy mumbled something, elbowing him.

“What?”

“...nothing, just.”

“...what?” Steve ran his palm over Billy’s ribs, feeling the muscles.

“Your dick’s digging into my ass.”

“What?!”  Steve scooted back, taking a calming breath.  “Sorry!  Sorry.  Shit.  I just--I’m not--I’m not mad, I’m--not always mad, sometimes I’m just...”  He sighed, watching a trickle of sweat run down Billy’s shoulderblade.  He wanted to lick it.  His dick twitched.  “Sorry.  Damn it.  Shit.”

“What the fuck’s been wrong with you,” Billy muttered.  “All day.  What--what the hell d’you want--I was gonna cheer you up with a good lay,” he sighed, his breath coming easier.  “Something I practised a lot, y’know--”

Steve pushed away and rolled onto his back, sighing.  He rubbed his face.

“Screw you!”  Billy reached over and smacked his arm.  “I’m sorry, the fuck did I do now.”

“It’s stupid,” Steve sighed, staring up at the Christmas lights.  “Sorry.  Sorry I keep freaking you out.”

“What is it,” Billy rolled to flop chest-to-chest, staring into Steve’s face from inches away, and Steve squirmed under him.  

“God, lemme jack off--”

“Maybe.”  Billy licked his lips, grinning, and Steve’s hips jerked.  “Tell me.”

“I--I don’t want to, it’s dumb,” Steve forced a grin, “--you’ll laugh.”

Billy opened his mouth, then shut it, cocking his head.  “Tell me. Or I’ll sit across you and let my ass just brush your cock--”

Steve jerked underneath him, trying to whine and laugh at the same time.  His throat felt raw, and he swallowed. “You--you just--you keep--you keep talking about--”  To Steve’s horror, his eyes started stinging again, and his lungs bucked in his chest, and he bit his lips, squeezing his eyes shut.  He could suddenly barely breathe through his nose, so he held his breath.   Get it together, get it together, he told himself, swallowing over and over.

Billy scrambled closer, and Steve felt him pressing kisses over his face.  He lost control of his lungs and started actually crying for the third time in one day when Billy yanked him close, pressing Steve’s face into his naked shoulder.  “Jesus H. Christ,” Billy whispered in his ear, stroking his hair.  

“Shit,” Steve muttered, trying to pull away and wipe his face, but Billy hugged him tighter.  

“Don’t make me take drastic measures,” Billy laughed shakily.  “Spit it out.”

“I don’t want to be an appliance,” Steve blurted out, sick with his own over-emotional clinginess, and Billy went perfectly still.  “Fuck.  I told you it’s dumb--”

“No, wait,” Billy slid his fingers into Steve’s hair, holding him close.  Steve avoided looking into his eyes, dark under only the strings of Christmas lights.  “M-maybe I got it wrong.  You--you want me to be just--just King Steve’s?  Just your knight.”

“That’s not--I wasn’t--” Steve reached up to stroke his thumb over Billy’s cheek while he closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.  “I didn’t--think about it. I thought--”   I thought I’d be enough, for once.  He snorted, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the burning sensation.  “I didn’t--I wasn’t trying to like--lay down a law. I just--it’s whatever.  Keep using all your--all your fruit flavors, I don’t care.”

“You don’t care,” Billy repeated, and Steve nodded.  There was a sharp pain in his lungs, and he tried to breathe around it.

“Yeah, it’s--fine.”

“You don’t sound fine, Harrington, jesus.”

“I’ll get over it.  It’s your life. Whatever.”  He could hear the bitterness creeping in, and took a deep breath.  “Whatever you want to do.”

Billy bit his lips, surveying Steve’s face.  “...yeah, okay, you look pissed.  Just--just tell me what you want.”

I want you to think I’m enough, Steve thought, wondering whether it would come through, if he shouted it loud enough in his head.  I want you to want me more than anyone else.  God, Steve, way to be selfish, he hasn’t even gotten away from his dad, like he needs you trying to-- he looked at Billy’s shirt.  His sweatshirt, that Billy was still wearing.  “...I don’t--I don’t want anything, I don’t wanna order you around.  Do--do whatever, I won’t get pissed.”  At Billy’s frustrated growl, he forced a grin.  “I mean it.  I’m not gonna tell you what to do.”

“You wanna be my only washer, right?”

Steve cringed.  “God, I’m such a piece of--”

“Like a boyfriend,” Billy’s intent eyes came into sharp focus as Steve blinked, “--Harrington.  Harrington.  Is that what you want?”

Steve sighed, and took another steadying breath, trying to get himself together.

“Is it you don’t want to share anybody,” Billy leaned sideways to watch his face, “--or is it me.”

“S’why I fought Jonathan Byers,” Steve huffed a laugh, wiping his nose on his arm, “--I thought Nancy was sleeping around--she was just--she was trying to find her friend, and her boyfriend just shows up and starts throwing punches--”

“Yeah, I figured.”  Billy nodded, fingers clenching his forearms again.  

“Hey, jesus, stop, you’re gonna be covered in bruises--” Steve grabbed a sweatshirted arm, and pushed up the sleeve, running his thumb up Billy’s forearm with a grimace.  “Shit, I thought this was a good idea, why d’you keep picking at them?”

“What the hell was I even doing last night,” Billy snorted, watching Steve’s face.  

“I--I do need to--”  Steve took a deep breath, leaning his face in his hands, processing the inner stickiness that reminded him Billy would probably try to feel like Steve wanted him to.  “I should--I mean, you said a lot of shit while you were--”

“Oh fuck, of course I did,” Billy sighed.  “Probably begged for it.  You can ignore all that--”

“No, no, I’m not ignoring you, just--shit.  I--you were happy with the shit I said last night--why’re you--”

“Let’s fuck,” Billy pulled away.  “I don’t need to hear this.”

“No, wait,” Steve wiped his eyes, grabbing Billy by the sleeve on his shoulder and pulling him back face to face.  “What--what do you want?  You didn’t say anything bad, what do you--”

“Screw you, okay, you pissed on my leg already, you know what I want, you said I told you that shit--like a fucking idiot--”

“I what--?”

“You don’t want me, you just don’t want me bringing anything gross home,” Billy snorted.  “I get it--”

“Shit no, no--”  Steve rubbed his nose again, “--eugh.  You, uh, want me to want...you?  As--as--like you said, like a boyfriend.  You--would you want to--do that?”

Billy shrugged, and Steve’s heart thumped a little.  “Thought I, ‘uh,’ spilled my whole heart last night,” he snorted.  “You said I--”

“Shut up, dickhead, you just said--you said sober Billy loved me,” Steve rolled his eyes, “--and then you said you wanted a bearded black goat so you could ride it into, like--uh,” he squinted, “I can’t remember the name of the band concert thing--”  

Billy choked, coughed, and burst out laughing, and Steve leaned in to kiss his cheek, biting along his stubble.  

“You said my nicknames were dumb, you--you kinda tried to teach me to drive stick--”

Billy laughed harder, sliding his hand down Steve’s stomach, and Steve jerked away, though his hard-on was coming back now he was over his crying jag.  

“You said a bunch of crap, basically, Hargrove, you got more to say to me?” 

“...the goat sounds pretty rad,” Billy smirked, leaning into a kiss.

“Pretty sure you said I was a jelly sandwich while you were falling over in the snow, trying to grab my ass,” Steve said flatly, feeling like an idiot--the kind of idiot who passed notes with checkboxes saying ‘DO YOU LIKE ME? Y/N’.

Billy huffed a laugh, swallowing.  “...you wanna know I’m not going anywhere.  That’s--that what this is.  Billy going to fuck off, or--or just hang around.  Shit.”

“No, it’s fine,” Steve laughed unsteadily.  “I know you’re gonna fuck off--”

“Shit.  No, okay, I won’t.  I’ll--” Billy took a breath as shaky as Steve’s.  “I--I’m staying, Harrington, I’ll--I’ll be at the other end of the phone when you want a fuck, I’ll--I want pictures of you in your goddamn prom suit, I’ll--I’ll be forty fucking years old and hoping you get off work early and horny and wanna drop by, christ.  I’ll be dodging my boss asking why I’m so fucking stupid after lunch because you drove by and you smiled, you fucking idiot moron.”  He flinched away from Steve’s hands pulling him close, and Steve hugged him sideways, as tight as he could.  He couldn’t tell which of their hearts was pounding harder.  “Don’t make me be your best man,” Billy muttered into his collar.  “My wedding present’ll be not driving off a fucking bridge--you want me to love you so goddamn much, why the hell are you pissed I wanna stay--”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Steve buried his face in Billy’s shoulder, “--I don’t want you to go, but I don’t--your--your dad’s gonna--” he took a deep breath, and Billy grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to fall backwards halfway into Billy’s lap and into a hug.  Steve let himself relax into it, laughing.  “Sorry, shit. I didn’t--” Billy bit his ear, and Steve kicked, trying to elbow him. “Augh, asshole--”

“So are we dating?”  

Steve leaned his head back, yes narrowed.  “Will you go on a date with me?” 

“Hmm.”  Billy licked Steve’s ear where he’d bitten him, breathing across it.  “Do I get to blow you in the back of the theater?”

Steve twitched.  His dick thought that was a great plan.  “I don’t wanna go to pick you up and--and find you having--I mean--no banana man sex with, um--”

“No fucking Tommy?  Eugh.” Billy snickered.  “You sure?  I bet he’d let you join in.  You don’t wanna lick Tommy’s banana, Harrington?”

“How come you did it, but I have to remember more about it,” Steve groaned.  

“You don’t want me to get any banana prick,” Billy yanked Steve’s chin up for a kiss, “I don’t need any banana prick.”

“What,” Steve snorted.

“You want this ass all to yourself, it’s yours,” Billy shrugged.  “Just don’t fucking--don’t start dating some bitch without telling me.”

“What,” Steve asked again, leaning his head back to blink up at Billy’s chin, and the Christmas lights.

“You get back with Nancy, you better come tell me that shit, don’t--don’t just let me find out, asswipe--”

Steve squinted up at him.  “...if I wanna date somebody else I have to break up with you first?  I mean...yeah, Hargrove, that’s kinda how it’s done--same here--”

“Was that all of it?”  Billy leaned to mouth down his neck, biting his jugular, and Steve’s whole body jerked back to full attention. 

“What? Christ,” he snorted, leaning his head to the side so Billy could leave marks all the way down his shoulder.  

“You want me all to yourself,” Billy squeezed him, humming, then let go, “--you want me to--” he cleared his throat, “--love you, so I won’t leave you lonely, right--but was that all?  You threw my mom at my head, just about--”

Steve did not want to explain he’d been jealous of Billy Hargrove’s parental situation, definitely not so jealous that he’d then hidden in his room all day in a nest of towels.  He cleared his throat.  “...she have anything else to say?”

“She’s gonna start lifting more,” Billy snorted.  “I told her I could always carry her around if she was weak in her old age, she quoted some commandments at me.  I told her respecting your parents also means not giving them a hernia.  I dunno.  She said there was somebody at work she had to ask a ton of questions.”

“She’s got a Nancy,” Steve grinned at his fingers, interlocked with Billy’s, and didn’t hate him for how relaxed he sounded, talking about his mom, who carried his photos everywhere.

“Yeah, I guess.  Was that it?”

“What?”  Steve leaned up for a kiss, but Billy pulled back.

“There’s a rule, your fucking majesty.  You gotta tell me why you’re pissed.  Was that all?  Just had to know this dumb drunk was wrapped around your little finger?”

“...Will said you took those Polaroids and hid ‘em in your music.”

“That little fink bastard,” Billy’s ears reddened, “--how that didn’t clue you in--”

Steve stared, biting his lips, and didn’t say you’re the only person who’s ever--, coming out instead with something that had been sitting on the back of his tongue since Billy had trembled underneath him.  “You should fuck me, actually,” was what came out of his mouth.  He sounded weirdly hoarse, to himself, but Billy just squinted at him.

“What the hell?”

“Sober,” Steve took a deep breath, pushing his successful derail.  “Fuck me.  Sober. Then you’ll know it’s fine, you won’t have to flip out every time over whether things are too gay.”

“Jesus,” Billy stared at him, swallowing.  “Keep talking.” He grabbed the back of Steve’s head and let himself fall backwards, yanking Steve on top of him.  Steve caught himself with one hand on the mattress and his forearm across Billy’s chest. At Billy’s pained “--shit, Harrington--” Steve flailed around, bracing himself over his trespasser, and leaned in to kiss him.

“Keep sweet-talking me,” Billy whispered, between kisses.  “Tell me I’m good again.  Good boy,” he laughed, stroking his fingers through Steve’s hair.  “Be nice to your fucking dog, King Steve.”  He wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist, pressing him close, and Steve finally shoved his jeans down, and kicked them off, kneeling in the pile of denim and belt.  “Shove in, it’s fine, it’s fine--”

“Christ,” Steve whispered back, as Billy tried to manhandle him into position, and his dick rubbed across the sticky remaining conditioner.  “I’m slipperier than you are--”

“Fuck me,” Billy panted, reaching down to grab Steve’s cock and try to maneuver him inside.  “Come on, your majesty, not gonna get wet, I can’t do that--” 

He was hot and sticky inside, and he braced himself as Steve pushed in, his knuckles clenching white in the sheets.  

Steve shifted back, wincing as he pulled out and Billy’s voice cut off in a whine.  “Just a minute, christ, shut up,” Steve slid his hand down to rub Billy’s stomach, frowning around.  

“You fucking asshole, d’you want me to beg--tell me--tell me what to--”  Billy sat up on his elbows, snarling, and Steve clambered up from between his legs and stroked his thigh.  

“Just a minute.”  He trotted into the kitchen, glad no neighbors were close enough to see his dick a-swingin’, and grimaced around the kitchen, checking cupboards.  He bit his lips as he frowned into the fridge, and ended up laughing silently with his head against the refrigerator door before running back to kick his jeans aside, and kneel again between Billy’s legs.

“Fuck you,” Billy kicked at him.  “Get back here--”

“Hang on a second, jesus,” Steve fumbled with the tub of Parkay margarine, scooping up a fingerload and rubbing it up Billy’s ass.  

Grunting softly, Billy let his head loll back.  “...I coulda taken it.  Don’t have to...jesus, Steve--” he lifted his head to grin, glanced at the tub in Steve’s hands, and dropped back to the bed, wheezing with laughter.  “The--margarine--that’s fucking--you’re--” he cackled, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist and dragging him closer.  “You’re buttering me up,” he whispered, and Steve tried to kiss him, but they were both grinning so hard their teeth clacked together.  

“That was horrible,” Steve informed him, making a face as he dug his fingers in the tub of Parkay.  “...it’s all up under my fingernails.”

“Fucking cut them off, then,” Billy’s head shot up again.

“You can’t fucking tell,” Steve rolled his eyes.  “They’re short!  It’s just gross!”

“Oh, it’s so nice for me, that shit’s cold,” Billy smacked his arm.  “It was fine.”

“Yeah,” Steve rubbed it in, his thumb catching against Billy’s rim, and Billy relaxed back on the bed, flopping his arm over his face.  Steve could still see the flush deepening on his cheeks, and down his neck and chest. “What do you mean sweet talk?  Whaddaya want me to say?”

Billy snorted, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to his face.  “Nng.  Shut up.”  He flinched back, then let his legs fall awry against the bed with a groan as Steve rubbed another dollop of margarine on his dick, just slowly smoothing it on with his callused thumb.  “Wh-what the--Steve--I’m not gonna--I can’t--”

Steve watched his abs flex, blushing to realize he was grinning away.  “What am I supposed to say?”

“Nothing,” came Billy’s muffled voice.  “...fffuck off, god, jesus, Harrington,” he moaned, as Steve rubbed slick fingers up nearly into his ass--and then stopped.  “Shit, what, what’s wrong,” his voice went lighter.  

“What were you gonna ask for,” Steve ran his thumb up and down at the point Billy’s thigh began, watching as his legs started to shake.

“Fuck you!” Billy smacked at him with the heel of his hand, but between the pillow over his face and his whole body shuddering, there wasn’t any strength to it.

“Ask me,” every time Steve spoke, Billy’s dick drooled a little, so he leaned in to breathe his words across it.  “Maybe I’ll listen.”

“SHIT FUCK, please,” Billy yelped.  “Say your fucking boyfriend bullshit, say it--”

Jesus god, Steve paused, feeling his face flame up red.  What?!  Remembering Billy’s usual  violent reactions when he got embarrassed, he got his thumb moving again as a distraction, ducking his head with a grin as Billy’s legs locked around his arm the second his finger slipped inside.  “Haveta lemme move, babe,” he dodged the flailed blow.   “What should I say? Talk about my feeblings.” 

“Fuck you,” Billy whispered.  “That’s enough, stop.”

“Batting cage date, maybe,” Steve grabbed another wad of margarine, holding his breath as he oiled himself up.

“Fucking stop,” Billy’s voice got thready as Steve worked another dollop up inside him, melting it into hot flesh with his thumb.

“I wanna take you whitewater rafting,” Steve cocked his head, trying to decide how much of the muffled grunting was pain.  “You still okay?”

“Fuck you,” Billy’s voice sounded hoarse and wet.  

“I will,” Steve steadied his cock with one hand, pressing in as his other hand squeezed a long stroke up Billy’s dick.  

Billy curled around his pillow, but locked his legs tighter around Steve’s waist and thighs, and Steve stalled out for a long second just inside, feeling like Billy’s car, stunned into engine failure and rolling back off the ice.  He took a deep breath, trying not to come--not that he hadn’t already made it longer than Billy, he thought, snickering.

“You--you okay if I move?” Steve asked, and the pillow nodded.

“Shut up, jesus,” Billy bucked his hips, and Steve almost fell on top of him again, then rocked forward, his brain barely aware of anything other than the hot tightness around his cock.  

“Thought you--thought you wanted to hear about my--my feeblings,” Steve panted, sliding his hand down to stroke Billy’s dick, and Billy jerked under him.  “Since--since you basically proposed earlier.” Steve kept his movement slow, feeling his eyes flutter shut.  

“...shut the hell up,” Billy laughed, his voice raw.  

“Yeah, okay,” Steve tried to summon more words.  “Sweet. Stuff.”

“Stop fucking lying to me, shut up.”  Billy managed to sound cynical and wrecked at the same time, pushing the pillow off to breathe.  He wiped his eyes, leaving his arms over his face.

“I’m not, I’m not, shit--” Steve let himself tip forward a bit, squishing Billy in on himself, to try and see his face.

“Harrington--” he batted Steve’s hands away, and Steve grabbed his fingers, twining them with his.  Billy sniffled, eyes shut tightly, and Steve swore under his breath.

“Babe.  Hargrove.  We’re idiots.”  He shuffled his knees backwards, breath stuttering at the friction on his dick as he pulled out.

“What the fuck-- what--Harrington--” Billy growled, trying to yank him back, but Steve dropped next to him, panting.  

“You get on top.  Come--come on, then you aren’t pinned.  C’mere.” He dropped back to his elbows, his dick bouncing ridiculously as he breathed, shining red, and Billy frowned at it, then at him, then huffed a laugh, pushing himself up.

He sank down on to Steve’s dick with a soft grunt, his eyes sliding shut, and Steve made himself take a long shaky breath.  It was hard to breathe with Billy’s weight astride him--heavy, hot, and tight, the melted oil Billy’d been filled with warm between them, then chill as Billy lifted himself to press back down.  

It was grinding Steve’s brain to a halt, watching Billy’s abs flex, then his thighs tense to push himself up Steve’s cock.  Steve tried to return the favor, but Billy smacked his hand away, watching him intently. “Don’t, I’ll come again.”  

His thighs should be okay to touch, Steve hoped, swallowing, and slid his hands up, feeling the muscles flex.  He yelped as Billy grabbed one, yanking it to his face and biting along the side.  Steve curled his fingers, feeling Billy’s tongue work against them, needing something to draw his mind away from putting his other hand on Billy’s dick.  It was dripping across his stomach, bouncing with every motion.

They both passed out after.  Billy shoved off him, groaning about the heat, and Steve stayed on his back, panting.  When his brain started to engage again, he rolled his head to see Billy’s back, then scooted over to spoon him again.  “Hey.”

“...hey,” Billy mumbled back.

“Christ, that was,” Steve snorted into the back of Billy’s neck, feeling him snicker, then licked thoughtfully at the salt along the muscles of Billy’s shoulder, around bruises that looked like fingermarks.  

“...good?” 

“Fucking amazing,” Steve tucked Billy’s hair off the back of his neck, and kissed along it.  

Billy snorted, slumping back against him.  “You get over...whatever the hell?”

“Eugh,” Steve groaned, leaning his face into Billy’s sweaty hair.  “Shit.  I just--it’s not--”

“Great,” Billy muttered.

“No, shut up, it’s just--you--your mom’s awesome,” Steve swallowed around what felt like shards, and cleared his throat, grimacing.  “I just.  I’m jealous as hell.  Sorry.  It’s dumb.”

“...what,” Billy laughed against him.  

“It’s stupid.  She just--she loves you so much, and--and I’m not--”

“What,” Billy repeated, before pushing himself up with a groan, rolling his shoulders, and swinging his leg over Steve again.  Steve felt his cock twitch, and was hoping Billy hadn’t noticed, as Billy grabbed his face. “Your--your parents suck, right.”

Steve huffed a laugh, trying to look away, but Billy kept firm hold of his jaw.  

“They’re shitty, all right, it’s not you.  I know I’m not--anything--but--”

Steve jerked back to attention, blinking at Billy’s set expression.  “Wait, what?”

“I know I’m not important,” Billy hissed, “--shut up, I’m talking--”

“What, no, what the fuck,” Steve grabbed his wrists, and Billy smacked his hands away.  

“Get your ass-hands off me.”  He put his thumbs over Steve’s mouth, setting his jaw.  “Those kids all trust you.  They’re all worried as hell, you know how many shovel talks I’ve gotten?  Dustin was slinging threats while you were drooling on my shoulder--”

“He doesn’t even know!”

“...everybody knows, Harrington.  I got a shovel talk from Will, Harrington.   Will Byers.”   

Steve swallowed.  

“Your ex is just glad I’m feeding you, I think, though when you fucking stormed out of the library earlier, she told me she had a gun.”  

Steve snorted, wide-eyed, thinking of Max chanting ‘Fight of the exes!  Fight! Fight!’ in the car.  “Uh.  Sorry?”

“Your fucking town sheriff pulled me over to tell me you’re a good kid--”

“He said what?!”

“I went into Radio Shack and some lady chewed me out, I didn’t even get my batteries--”

Steve started giggling in disbelief.  “Oh my god, Mrs. Byers, it was--it was Will’s mom--”

“Yeah, okay, Jonathan Byers had to get a word in too, dipshit, he says if you vouch for me he’ll wait and see, but he has bear traps--”

Billy started looking a little blurry as Steve cackled, sniffling.  A tear slid out the side of his eye, and Billy wiped it away.  

“Max is gonna nail my feet to the ground if I so much as stop making you pancakes.  And--and they’re all good people, right.  They matter.” He raised his eyebrows, and Steve nodded as much as he could, swallowing hard.  

“Y-yeah.”  Billy sat back, eyes narrowed, and Steve yanked him back down.  The idea that Steve mattered to anyone particularly when he wasn’t in the room was something he pushed away to think about later, when he could stare at the ceiling and feel a little shaky, and maybe bury his face in Billy’s sleeping back.  “C’mere, shit.”

“Doesn’t matter about your shitty parents, they don’t know what they’ve got,” Billy informed him, at close range, and Steve took an unsteady breath, and kissed him.  The toothpaste had worn off, so he just tasted like Billy, warm, sweaty, and still giving Steve a deep frown.  

Steve wiped his eyes with his arm, and grinned up.  “And you--” he kissed him again, “--right?”

“Yeah,” Billy pushed the kiss deeper, then pulled back, licking his lips.  “Yeah, sure.  Dig myself the six foot hole.  I can hit Nancy up for the gun--”

“No, jesus,” Steve shook his head, leaning up to kiss him again.  “Shit.  No, not--not--that’s stupid, don’t shoot yourself to make me happy, dumbshit.”

“What then,” Billy breathed against his mouth, flopping down on top of him.  “What can I--” he laughed into another kiss, “--what the hell can I do?”

“You know what you’ve got, right?” 

“You gonna keep making me say this shit?” Billy lowered his eyes, letting go of Steve’s face.  “I wouldn’t leave town, that’s for sure.”

Steve grinned back at him, a little giddy.  “Because you have feeblings for me.”

“Yeah.  I do.  Screw you,” Billy’s laugh was uneven, and he rubbed at the marker again.  

“You love me back,” Steve whispered, leaning up to kiss him again.  

“Oh, is that what your feeblings are?” Billy snorted.  

“What?”

“You feel something, great,” Billy rolled off him, rubbing his face.  “You want somebody around that would--I’d--whatever, Harrington, fuck you, stop laughing at me about this, jesus.  You don’t--you’re not usually--” he took a deep breath, and Steve yanked him back down against his side.  

“Shit, no, christ.  I told you.  I told you, I said it back, I love you too.  I swear.”

“You pinkie-promise?  What are you, twelve?”  Billy wrinkled his nose, and Steve smacked him with a pillow.  

“No, no, no, no--you didn’t--Bi-- Knight.  Knight.  I mean it, I--”

“Shut up,” Billy groaned, curling up.  Steve curled around him, kissing the back of his reddening neck.  

“You, uh, you--it didn’t--you didn’t just--say you loved me.  Out of--out of nowhere.  Bleah.  I, um.  I was trying to find the keys--”

“What?!” Billy turned to try and frown over his shoulder, and Steve laughed, leaning to hide  his face in Billy’s neck.  

“You were so fucking drunk.  You--I was piggybacking you out of Carol’s, and I couldn’t find the keys, and so I was trying to--I was going through your bag, and there was this--this sticky--”

“God damn,” Billy was snickering against him.  “You shoulda just dumped my drunk ass in the snow--”

“--I put my hand in and there’s this sticky condom on a banana--”

“Oh, jesus christ--” Billy cackled, tugging Steve’s arm around him tighter, and interlocking their fingers.  

“And I was looking at it, and thinking, like, the stuff I’ve done to help you, it’s not--that’s person stuff, you’re a person, you get that help.  But I don’t--I don’t wanna lick your freckles because you’re a person, I don’t get all--bubbled--inside--when you wear my sweatshirts because you’re a person, I just lo--I want Trespasser Hargrove to steal my clothes and curl up on me like--”

“Bubbled,” Billy repeated, mouth quirked, and Steve kneed him in the butt, face flaming.  

“Shut up, you’re so annoying, jesus--I’ve got this--gross--banana in my hand, and you drunk hugging my neck, and I just--I thought shit, I’m--I’m in love with you, what the hell, I’m not--I’m not even mad, I just--I was so happy you called, I was so--so goddamn worried about you, and then you were telling me all this drunk silly bullshit, it was--”

“You are shitting me,” Billy laughed shakily.

“I told you, I knew you wouldn’t remember, I was like okay, this is practice, I convince him now, at championship I hit it out of the park--”

“Basketball is not played in a park.”  Billy sounded a little stunned. “The fuck are you even saying--”

“--so anyway,” Steve kissed his neck, “--I--I spilled, I didn’t mean to say it with a--a fucking--sticky condom in my hand, okay, sorry about that--”

“Not sure any of this is happening, honestly,” Billy snorted, swallowing hard.

“--we got in the car, and you wanted to remember, so you were trying to write it down with your busted hand--”

“--sounds like me--”

“--so I wrote it on you.”

“You wrote ‘Steve has feeblings’, right, that makes perfect sense--why the hell didn’t I put that together, everyone knows what feeblings are, Harrington--”

“You yanked your arm--”  Steve started giggling, squeezing him harder, and Billy shook his head.

“Maybe you just can’t spell, your majesty.”

“Fuck you.  Anyway.  That’s--” Steve took a deep breath.  “That’s--that’s why.  You said.  You didn’t just--barf that out there, I did.  I was talking all this shit about how much I loved you, and how I could let you know, and you--you got kinda pissed off, actually?  But you--you did--you said it back.”

Billy took a deep breath, and let it out, then laughed as Steve started uncertainly kissing his shoulder.  “...shit, you... shitbird, you made it sound like--I thought--” he took a shaky breath, squeezing Steve’s hand tighter, “--I thought I just spilled my guts like a fucking--like some--”

“Like me,” Steve snorted, and Billy elbowed him.

He was quiet for a long time, and Steve finally leaned back and pulled him over by the shoulder, so he could frown at the face of his weirdly still home invader.  “Did you die?”

“Shut up,” Billy shoved his face away, sitting up.  “So that’s it, right, you freaked out ‘cause my mom’s awesome and yours ain’t shit--”

“Shut up, asshole,” Steve snorted, rolling onto his back.

“--and everybody in the goddamn world thinking you’re great isn’t enough, I guess, and--and your true banana-flavored love was leaving, and--”

“Thanks.  My head’s in my ass, okay.  Yeah. Sorry.” Steve’s lungs still felt a little splintery, but it was better, listening to Billy rant, still holding his hand.  “Don’t go home.”  Steve waved their interlocked hands.  “You can just--just stay here.  For--for as long as, uh--you can stay with me, I like--”

“You’re not listening, dipshit, you’ve got, like, a whole family of idiots that wants you happy--”

“Stop, jesus, I already fucking-- bawled today, shut up--”

“That what you were doing in your room,” Billy grinned down, “--crying in your pillow ‘cause this little teeny bitty percentage of the people you know don’t love you--”

“I was not,” Steve said, with dignity, yelping as Billy shoved him.  “I wasn’t! My pillows are down here, dickwad--”

Billy burst out laughing.  “Crying into your naked scratchy mattress--”

“I had towels!”  Steve batted him away, oof-ing as Billy collapsed across his stomach, gasping with laughter.  “And I wasn’t crying!  Then!”

“Oh, shit, the library.”  Billy propped himself up to see Steve’s face, and Steve forced a laugh.  “You--what the hell, you freak out and run to Nancy--”

Steve cupped his fingers over his face, breathing deeply.  “I was freaked out about you, shut up, I’m gonna--I’ll lose my voice, or something, if I keep just--having toddler meltdowns, god damn --” 

“Is that what it is?” Billy asked dryly.  “That what it is when I lose my shit?”

“No!  No, you’ve got like--actual problems,” Steve laughed, sniffling.  

Billy stared at him.  “...like...monsters?” 

“You see any monsters?”  Steve waved a hand. “I don’t see any monsters.  Just me, wanting…”

“You’re feeling like a whiny bitch,” Billy assessed, and Steve snickered, nodding, and wiping his eyes, again.  “I’ll fucking decide when you’re being annoying, christ.  Just tell me.  God damn.  If I do something.  Don’t get all--” he waved his hand, and Steve laughed harder.  “New fucking rule, Harrington,” Billy grabbed Steve’s other wrist, glowering into his face.  “Tell me first, and I’ll tell you if it’s dumb, okay.” 

“Okay,” Steve rasped, and cleared his throat.

“Repeat after me, ‘if I want a fucking boyfriend so bad I better talk to him’.”  Billy narrowed his eyes, and Steve nodded, dissolving into sniggers again.  “Say it,” Billy shook him by the arms, and Steve nodded, crying and laughing too hard to answer.  “Shit.”  Billy pushed himself upright, dragging Steve along, “--c’mon, shower, I’ll shampoo your damn hair.” 

Steve grabbed him from behind, wrapping his legs around Billy’s waist, and Billy carried him upstairs. “If anything happens to you, your mom will murder me,” he whispered, and Billy huffed a laugh.  “Stay here.  Maybe he’ll--maybe--we can talk to Hopper.  Just--just stay here.”  

After a pause lasting clear up the stairs, Billy sighed, and nodded.  Steve hugged his head.

 The next day in ceramics class, Steve had staked out a table to himself, and stuck headphones on with something not too screamy of Billy’s.  He was starting a new, hopefully less hideous project, when Max and Lucas walked in, followed by El dragging Billy, and then Nancy edging her way in--after a wary glance around for the teacher, who had her feet up in the office.  He was squinting at that procession when Dustin thumped against his back, chin abruptly digging into his shoulder.  Steve nearly stabbed him in the eye with a clay scooping tool, and yanked his headphones down.  “Christ. Don’t just grab people, rugrat.”

“Eleven’s bringing Billy to see your present,” he whined.  “Why didn’t I get a present?!  I’m your best friend, Steve!  He’s just your embarrassing secret sex friend.”

“Oh my god.”  Steve dropped his head into his hands as Nancy dropped into the seat across from him.  

“What is going on,” she whispered.

“A Shriner’s convention,” Dustin whispered back, beaming.  “We’re all here to see the present Steve made for Billy.”

“Oh no,” Steve stared over at El, dragging Billy determinedly around.  

“Did he ever give you a handmade present?” Dustin demanded of Nancy, who shook her head, eyebrows raised.

“Shit,” Steve waved his hands at her, “--no, it’s not--it’s--um--”

“We see how it is,” Dustin harrumphed.  

“What the hell do you want,” Max stage-whispered at Billy--more and more of Steve’s class were paying attention, out of the corners of their eyes--and Billy hissed back “I didn’t want anything here, I don’t know what’s--” 

After a bit of glaring at each other, Max sighed loudly, grabbed his arm, and drug him out the side door, and El came over with Steve’s horrible, mustard yellow, lumpy coil-built clay monstrosity.  

“Wow,” Dustin stared.  “Y’know what, he’s welcome to it.”

“You’re perfect for each other,” Nancy nodded, obviously trying not to laugh, and Steve felt himself flushing.  

“It’s a joke,” he hissed.  “It’s a stupid hilarious joke present--”

“Yeah,” Dustin grimaced.  “It’s, ugh.”  

“It looks like a piece of shit,” Lucas put in, having wandered over, his eyes on the side door, where they could see Max waving her arms at Billy through the glass panel.  He followed her around, and then they were talking, intently. After a few minutes she stormed back in, wiping her eyes, and Eleven and Lucas ran over. Steve caught the words “life insurance” in their fierce whispers, and locked eyes with Billy, who shrugged, jaw set.  Eleven turned to frown at him, then at Steve, and took a deep breath, setting her shoulders. She put an arm around Max, and Steve started to stand up, thinking he better talk to Eleven before she skewered Neil Hargrove on a handy treetop like a psychic shrike, not because Neil Hargrove didn’t deserve worse, but to save Hopper trying to derail a really newsworthy murder investigation.  

“...is that thing my present,” Billy asked, rubbing his red eyes.  

“It is, aren’t you lucky,” Dustin shoved it across the table, and Billy grabbed for it, but missed.  There was a definite crashing sound on the floor.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!  Shit!”  Dustin scrambled up and ran around to help Billy gather the mostly-whole hideous thing and the couple chunks of coil that had cracked off the bottom corner.

“Oh no, it’s broken,” Steve rolled his eyes, “--I guess it goes straight in the trash--”

“Oh no, did it break?!” Eleven ran over, dragging Max.

“No, it’s okay,” Dustin pressed it back together, “--we can glue it, it’ll be fine--”

“Wow, it’ll be even uglier--” Steve snorted.

“It’s got ‘H+H’ in a heart on the bottom.”  Billy grinned over, looking delighted--both at the thought, and Steve’s humiliation, Steve was sure--and Steve groaned.

“I will find glue.”  Eleven trotted over to bang on the teacher’s open door, and Steve was glad most of the class was listening to headphones, or skipping class.  

“You could use hot glue,” Lucas suggested.  “Not like it was gonna hold water anyway.”

Dustin drug Billy and the broken piece of shit off to the teacher.  

“What is happening,” Steve moaned, to Nancy, and she grinned at him.  “Don’t touch it,” he warned her, “I think Tommy rubbed his dick on it, or something, he was being really loud over there.”

Eleven, trailing Lucas and Max, drug Billy back with a surprisingly speedily-fixed clay horror, now sitting unevenly and bulging with greyish hot glue.  “What?” Billy asked, cradling the thing.

“...nothing,” Steve stared at it, then at Nancy, who bit her lips.  “I’ll tell you in, like, thirty years.”

Billy almost dropped it again, shooting him a wide-eyed glance, and cleared his throat.  “That’s--that’s a long time, Harrington.”

“I’ve got googly eyes,” Dustin suggested.  “We could cover up the glue--”

“Give ‘em here,” Billy nodded, and Dustin whipped out a bag of multi-sized googly eyes.  They sat shoulder to shoulder, and the kids leaned around Billy’s chair.

“Put some big ones on the front,” Max suggested, sniffling, and Lucas snorted.

“Which even is the front?”

Max was trying to wipe her eyes with her shoulders, and Steve realized Eleven was holding her hand on one side, jaw firm, and Lucas had the other, and she was leaning against Billy’s chair.  He looked up and mouthed something, and Max huffed a laugh, her shoulders relaxing a little. She kneed his chair, and he grinned a little at the awful present.

Dustin was sticking on a line of little eyes along the crack, and Nancy leaned in to prod at the pile of googly eyes, then stopped to dig around in her purse.  “If you use a couple of those big ones, I’ve got some fake eyelashes.”

“Oh my god,” Billy laughed harder, leaning his head in his hand.  

“It’ll be just horrible when I accidentally knock it on the floor,” Steve kicked his leg, “--what a tragedy--”

“I’ll tell everyone you’re a murderer,” Billy hissed back.  “I’ll call Hopper and tell him you killed her--”

“Denise--” Dustin put in, cackling.

“Everyone will know of your crime against Denise, Harrington--”

“I put her on this earth,” Steve snickered, “--I can take her off--”

“Why’s your boyfriend so happy about that awful thing,” Dustin whispered, while Billy, Eleven, and Nancy tried to get the fake lashes on.  “It looks like Jabba the Hutt. Or Slimer. Or Jabba the Hutt had sex with Slimer--”

“He’s just laughing at my art skills,” Steve rolled his eyes.  “I can do better than that,” he said, louder, pointing at Denise, and Billy raised his eyebrows.

“You sure?” Max snorted.

“Fuck yeah I’m sure, that was a joke--”

“Big words, Harrington,” Lucas said, as Billy held Denise up, shaking her a bit so the eyes would waggle from side to side.  “You sure you can back that up?”

Max cocked her head.  “Yeah, we’ve got big expectations now.”

“It’s almost Valentine’s Day,” Nancy pointed out, and Steve resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at her.

“I’ll make an awesome present, okay--”

“Okay,” Billy grinned at Denise, eyes flicking to Steve’s, and Max kicked his chair again, smiling crookedly.

Next chapter

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Eighteen

Part Seventeen

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx X OC

Word Count: 4.5k

Warning(s): Language, Drug Abuse

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———————————————————————

They went Gold in January of 1984, due to Shout At The Devil selling half a million copies.

Cameras, reporters and fans crowd the scene of the Limelight Club in Manhattan as Sparkie, Tansy, and I, stand aside and watch Nikki, Tommy, Mick and Vince are presented with their plaques, all of them looking the most proud I've ever seen them.

Once the last one is handed out to Tommy, the crowd's whistling and clapping, feeding at their egos. But, surprisingly enough, they stay humble.

"How're you fellas feeling tonight? Any words for it?" Their presenter asks into a microphone as a video camera captures the four of them.

"Mom, I'm sorry I had that first party in the living room. I didn't know it would lead to this." Vince admits with a smile, chuckling a little bit.

"Completely speechless." Even Mick is smiling like a kid as he speaks. "Thank you very much."

"We never believed it would actually happen. We were happy just to play supporting other bands, getting out there and having a good time with the kids, and then to be awarded with something is a feeling you can't really express. It just feels fantastic." Nikki tells him with a vividness in his hazel eyes.

"What about you, Tommy?" The man asks and Tommy shakes his head a little.

"I'm the happiest guy in the whole world." He dopily replies, high on excitement and utter joy. "Wait, no, my dad's probably the first happiest."

They're bombarded with questions from reporters once the presentation is over, taking time to answer each of them as cameras continue to flash.

I turn my back to speak to Tansy, the two of us striking up conversation because if I keep looking at the guys I'll start crying.

"Viv!" Nikki's calling over the noise after a couple minutes, and I turn to see him waving me over. "C'mere!"

I walk to him, pushing past security officials and record company executives and what not.

"We wanted a picture with the girlfriend." A woman behind a flashing camera explains.

"Oh, well, she’s not here so you’re just gonna have to settle for my wife." Nikki corrects her jokingly, his free arm over my shoulders and I gently elbow him in the ribs and shoot him a look.

The crowd “oohs” at him getting in trouble before they start clicking away at their cameras to capture all of us.

"Where's Tansy?" Vince asks and I nod to the corner I was standing in with her. "Tansalyn, get your ass up here!" He playfully demands and the crowd parts like the Red Sea, quickly realizing who she is, and then they start popping off pictures like riled up bees buzzing around and throwing out a million questions about her relationship with the band.

She's secured between Vince and Tommy, rightfully so, and we all give our best smiles for the group picture.

Nikki turns to look down at me, the background noise fading out as he smirks and pulls me closer to him before giving the press a hot, steamy, tongue filled kiss shared between us to get a picture of and plaster anywhere they'd like.

My mother called us white-trash for the hot and heavy PDA that was published in gossip tabloids across the country, but I didn't care for the opinion from someone who thinks blowjobs, anal, and getting eaten out is a sin because it's not contributing to the creation of life.

We finish up at the Limelight with everyone—except me—already buzzed from pregaming, and then we all head back to Tansy's apartment to continue the celebration for the guys, and they get to witness the extent of Tansy's hardcore partying habits first hand.

"Holy fuck!" Nikki exclaims, shocked that Tansy's matching him line for line of coke.

"What's next?" Tansy asks him, slurring a bit, and wiping her nose and I try not to look skeptical from my seat beside Tommy and Sparkie.

They've already run their livers in to the ground for night with alcohol, now they're trying to wreck their brains.

Sparkie makes a show of pulling a spoon from his boot, a chunk of tar, and a lighter and I look at Nikki, who's got his eyes on the prize that is the gear before him.

Tansy does, too, and Sparkie side eyes me.

"Sixx, you want me to get my dealer up here?" He asks just to get a rise out of me, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

"I thought you were the dealer." I blurt, crossing my arms and arching a brow, and Sparkie rolls his jaw.

"Why the fuck does it matter?" He shoots back at me, smartly.

Nikki pretends to think about it but I know he's hungry enough for something cocaine can't give him that he doesn't care if I'm present watch him do it or not.

"Get him up here." Nikki tells Sparkie, swigging from his bottle of Jack.

"Alright, lemme call him." Sparkie tells him, struggling to get up without stumbling, and he heads for the phone in Tansy's kitchen.

Nikki takes a drag of his cigarette, laughing with Vince about something said that I don't hear, and Tommy glances at me.

"You okay, Viv?" He asks me in my ear and I nod.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine." I assure him and he just looks at me. "What?"

"Nothin'." He shakes his head.

"Babe, do you really need to—"

"Viv, if you don't like it, you can leave." Nikki cuts me short, raising his brows and I swear I sit and stare at him until the dealer arrives.

"Nikki, this is James. He's gonna fix us up." Sparkie tells him and Nikki finally looks away from me.

"Hey, man." He greets him, scooting over so James has a spot next to him on the couch.

They start trying to figure out what exactly they want to do now being that James has a little bit of everything and I probably look like my best friend just died—mainly because I'm watching them slowly kill themselves.

"The fucks wrong with her?" I hear James ask Sparkie and Nikki under his breath.

"Oh, she doesn't feel good. She's been kinda sick lately." Nikki lies for me, and I keep my eyes on my shoes as Sparkie mumbles something to them, but I hear my name.

"Talk your shit with your chest." I can't stop from saying it, and Tommy, Vince, and Tansy all stop what they're doing to watch what's about to unfold.

Sparkie looks at me pointedly.

"I said, 'nah, Viv just prays at the sight of even a cigarette or beer bottle. She's probably about to have a little come apart once we start up'." Sparkie viscously spews out.

"Sparkie!" Tansy scolds him.

"Tansy, it's fine." I say, looking at her. "I could give a fuck what someone says when all that typically comes out of their mouth is bullshit and vomit."

"Fuck you." Sparkie barks at me.

"Fuck you!" Tommy argues with him before I can.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck everybody, we doin' this or not, man?" James irritatedly reminds us all why he's here and I keep look at Nikki and wait for him to defend me like Tommy did, but he just scratches at his forehead awkwardly and looks at me.

"You can go back to the hotel, babe." He passively orders, and I stand as fast as I can and stomp out, slamming the door without saying “bye” to anybody.

I got over it once I slept it off in Tommy’s bed since he was sharing a room with us. When Nikki asked me why I didn’t sleep in our bed, I told him, “I only sleep with people that defend me.” I was foreshadowing a shit-show without even realizing it.

The very next night after being certified Gold, they were certified Platinum—over a million copies sold of the album—and were given their awards on stage at Madison Square Garden. And the rest of the tour was a dream...kind of.

Vitamin D sinks in to my skin in the form of heat, sounds of water splashing from the pool and bare feet pattering against the wet pavement of the ground.

I keep my eyes closed, my sunglasses providing a good amount of darkness despite the sunshine beaming down on me, Tansy, Nikki, Vince, Tommy and Mick.

"Hey, Viv, can you put some more sunscreen on my back?" Tansy asks me politely, sitting up from where she's sprawled out in her chair.

"Yeah." I nod, sitting up and reaching over Nikki to grab my bag.

Before I can get the sunscreen from it, Nikki's hand is nonchalantly pinching my nipple through the top of my bikini and I swat his hand away.

"Stop!" I scold him with a light-hearted laugh, hitting his chest with the back of my hand.

Once I get a good amount of sunscreen in my hand, Vince is taking his sunglasses off.

"Wait, wait!" He stops me, and Tansy and I look at him. "Lemme get a better view."

I'm throwing my flip-flop at him in a milisecond, hitting him in the forehead.

"You're disgusting." I scold him and he throws my shoe back at me, opting Nikki to glare at him from behind his sunglasses.

Just as Vince is about to say something smart to me, a girl in a hot pink bikini walks by, catching Vince's, Tommy's and even Nikki's attention, their eyes glued to her as she walks by.

I pretend I don't notice, rolling my eyes and rubbing sunscreen between Tansy's shoulder blades.

"How many chicks have you fucked so far?" I hear Nikki ask Vince.

"Three." Vince answers him and I close the sunscreen and lean back in my chair, trying to not hear the guys have another conversation about easy pussy.

"No, not today, on the tour." Nikki explains and Vince chuckles.

"Oh, man. I lost count after that gang-bang in Salt Lake City." He laughs out and Tommy and Nikki join in.

"Yeah, that sounded fun." Nikki tells him as if he wished he could've joined in and I, again, don't bother saying anything about it.

"What about you, old man?" Vince asks Mick, who's sitting at a table with a giant umbrella blocking him from the sun.

"You ever stop to think that the slobs who fuck you guys probably fuck every other band that comes through town?" Mick points out a valid fact and I raise my brows and look at the guys to see their reaction after this revelation.

They think about it for a moment, then all three of them combust in to laughter.

"Yeah." Vince agrees through his smile. "Yes, they do."

"We're like pussy brothers with the whole scene." Tommy realizes aloud as if it's the coolest honor to have.

"I happen to have respect for myself and the females of our species. Unlike you animals." Mick says, completely unenthused by their attitude about the matter.

"Let's have some fuckin' fun, huh?" The voice of the legendary Ozzy Osbourne catches our attention and he's stumbling in to the pool area in one of Sharon's floral dresses.

"Mornin', Oz." Nikki says to him from our place on the other side of the pool.

Ozzy passes by an older couple who's drinks are obviously low and Ozzy stops to harass them.

"You guys need some more drinks, eh?" He asks the couple. "Well, drinks are on me." He bends over, lifts the dress and his bare ass cheeks have a folded up bill of money between them, leaving the two strangers horrified and disgusted. "Go on, take it. It's like a piggy bank in here." Ozzy encourages them, causing the guys to cackle.

The couple scrambles away and Ozzy makes his way over to us, causing me to mentally prepare myself for another dose of psychological warfare.

"Mornin', Oz." Tommy greets him like Nikki did, and Nikki holds his glass up.

"I'll take a refill." He sarcastically throws out and Ozzy stops in front of us and lifts his dress again, flashing all of us his penis, and all of us groan, squeezing our eyes shut.

"Ugh, gross." Tommy comments and I look at him and chuckle.

"I gotta hand it to you, Oz. All these years and you're still keeping up with us kids." Nikki says as Ozzy's climbing onto the lifeguard stand and plopping down in the chair in a moment's time.

"Keeping up with them? I've fucking lapped you, mate." Ozzy states matter of fact and I can't help but smile because we all know it's true. "Now, come here and have a talk with your uncle Oz."

They all glance at each other to make sure he's being serious.

"Come on, come on." Ozzy adds, motioning his hand and the four of them stand up and stand around him where he's peering down at them. "Now, this is your first real tour, right?"

They all nod and Ozzy looks at each of them before starting.

"I want you to be careful. Have fun, but know when to say when. 'Cause a life full of booze, drugs and unprotected sex will really fuck you up, man." I'm impressed by his advice, nudging Nikki with my foot in hopes he's paying attention to what his predecessor is saying, but he, Tommy and Vince are just giggling like children. Not listening to a word of it. "I mean, you take it too far, and you'll go fucking mad." Ozzy grips at his greasy hair with his hands, his eyes crossing to add emphasis.

Before we even know what's happening, he's jumping down from the lifeguard stand, and Vince and Tommy help him steady himself when he hits the ground clumsily.

"Give me a straw I fancy a bump." Ozzy says as he holds his hand out to Tommy.

"Oh, we're all outta blow, man." Tommy tells him.

"We're all out." Vince says at the same time as Tommy and Ozzy looks at them pointedly.

"I said I want a bump. Straw, please." Ozzy reaches his hand out to Tommy and Tommy hesitantly pulls the straw from his drink and hands it to Ozzy.

He gets a mischievous glint in his eye before getting on the pavement and lining the straw up with a line of busy ants, snorting a good amount of them up as if they're cocaine.

"Oh, dear God." I hiss out in pain, my lungs aching at the thought of ants biting at them.

Tansy and the boys are groaning and gasping in shock and amusement, their skin crawling at the idea as well.

Ozzy gets up and discards the straw, looking the guys over.

"You think you're ready for that?" He asks them as they ogle at his stupidity...and then he whips his prick out and starts pissing in front of everyone, earning disgusted sounds and facial expressions from the onlookers as he whistles.

Once he's finished he looks around and then back at the ground.

"Everybody else has a drink." He mumbles, grinning slyly before hitting the ground and licking his own piss off the concrete.

I nearly fall out of my seat, Tansy and I gagging as the guys are in utter awe.

"You're a god, dude." Tommy praises him.

"Crazy fucker." Nikki says to Ozzy, his hands pulling at his own belt. "Watch this."

"Baby, no." I stand from my spot.

"Nikki, please don't." Tommy agrees with me but there's no stopping him from pissing in the same spot Ozzy did, letting out an over exaggerated, "ahh."

Just as he's about to crouch down and lick it up, Ozzy's shoving him out of the way and lapping Nikki's piss from the ground.

"And I'm going to get a shower!" I announce, completely done with this, as everybody continues to give mixed reactions to the scene before them.

Ozzy was a catalyst for Mötley's bad behavior...and they could do bad all by themselves without the help of drugs or booze so if you can imagine how eventful their time with him was, it was as wild as you think times a thousand.

I start scrubbing at my scalp with shampoo when the door opens and I hear shushing and giggling voices before the door shuts again.

Before I can open the curtain and see who it is, Vince, Tommy and Nikki are piling in to the shower with me and closing the curtain.

Nikki's in front of Tommy and Vince and keeps me covered for the most part.

"What the hell are—" Nikki puts his hand over my mouth, before I can yell at them, and the door of the bathroom opens again and Tommy and Nikki crouch down to avoid being seen.

"Hey, Viv, Have you seen the idiots? They're dicking around again and they're about to get us kicked out." Doc tells me angrily and I blink at the guys, and Nikki slowly uncovers my mouth.

"No, I haven't seen them." I lie, cutting my eyes at the three of them.

"Damn it." He grumbles and slams the bathroom door, and my room door as he leaves.

"Thank you." Nikki tells me in relief, waiting a moment before his eyes start trailing down my wet, sudsy body.

"Get out." I snap at the three of them and Tommy and Vince scram out of the shower, shaking off like wet dogs, and Vince complains about the steam fucking with his hair as they go to check if the coast is clear.

Nikki hasn't even gotten out of the shower and I nudge at him.

"Babe, go." I try not to laugh, opening the curtain. "Nikki."

He's snatching me up before I know it, shampoo running down my body as I squeal out and kick my feet as he pulls me from the shower and throws me over his shoulder to the room.

He doesn't even warn Vince or Tommy before dropping me on the mattress and pulling his shirt over his head.

"Ugh!" Tommy over exaggerates a gag, covering his eyes as he darts for the door.

My stomach aches due to me laughing so hard as Tommy practically drags Vince behind him with the blonde fighting back to try to stare at my body longer.

Nikki's not worried about it, his lips and teeth bruising up my neck.

When Ozzy's wife, Sharon, was absent, I was attempting to follow a strict list of rules she sent me to keep her husband in check. I don't know how the hell she managed to be successful in terms of keeping him at bay, but I failed miserably. And of course, Vince, Tommy, and Nikki, were no help when Ozzy would get spun up. They'd sneak him drugs and booze and use "what Sharon doesn't know won't hurt her" as a tagline for their antics.

That was their tagline for their own antics, too. Just replace "Sharon" with "Vivian", "Roxie" or "Beth".

But when Sharon was back on tour with us, her presence was known. The guys didn't drink, do drugs...or even have sex with other girls.

I can still hear her lecture, clear as day, in her little accent that just added heaps of conviction on to them:

"You have a wife, Vince. Tommy, you've got a fiancée, and Nikki, Vivian is not a bloody blow-up doll. Let her have some time to herself before you start humping at her like a wild animal."

She had Ozzy behaving like a good little boy, and she had Mötley Crüe playing board games instead of snorting coke up girl's spines while simultaneously screwing them.

Sharon Osbourne was my gift from God himself.

She had to leave half way through the tour and I went to New York with Tansy for half of a week, and in the midst of the half-week of me being gone, Nikki screwed groupies. I didn't know, obviously, and don't even think Nikki knows if he really did or if he just guessed he cheated since I left him unattended.

He still had his love for smoking heroin around that time, too, so anything he did, said, or had sex with is all a grey area from 1984 to 1988.

They finished their tour with Ozzy before being thrown back on a headlining tour for six weeks. I didn't realize how much damage was exactly being done anytime I wasn't around, because there was plenty enough being done when I actually was around.

My head leans back against the seat as I drift from light sleep to near unconsciousness, but not quite. We've been going for hours now, the bus not wasting a minute.

Tommy and Nikki are chattering, Tommy mostly, and snorting coke, Nikki mostly, sitting at the table, while Roxie sits behind them and examines her finger nails, Vince sits at the table beside me, and Mick's laying down on the other side of me and dozing.

"...I keep having this vision, right, where my drum set, it rises up, like this, and then bam! Smoke, lights, a-and the whole thing starts spinning around, and I'm playing drums upside down, and uh...I should just draw it for you. Hey, Rox, got a pen? Gimme a pen." He asks her energetically and I peek an eye open to see her scowling but grabbing a pen from her purse.

"Your mom's a cunt." She randomly states to him, casually, and I snap my eyes open and look at her as if she's lost her damn mind, my blood already beginning to boil.

"What?" Tommy asks her, turning around. "Why would you say that?"

"Because She is. She's a cunt." She continues.

"Quit it." Tommy tells her. "Gimme the pen, alright?"

"I don't even know why you told them. It's not like she has anything to do with us getting married." She starts raising her voice.

"Baby, it's sweet. Alright? It's tradition." Tommy tries to tell her patiently and she stands up.

"Which tradition the mandatory meeting of the cunt?!"

He stands to face her, his finger in her face, his voice sternly warning:

"Don't you ever call her that again. You hear me?"

She just stares at him, and he sits back down. She's suddenly stabbing him in the back with the pen, causing him to scream out in pain as she hisses, "here's your pen!"

"Ow, What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He asks her.

"Fuck you. And fuck your mother!"

"That's it, this fucking bitch is outta here, pull over!" Tommy shouts, and grabs Roxie harshly by the arm. "Get the fuck off my bus! Get the fuck out!" He shoves her down the aisle and I'm nearly shocked, never seeing Tommy this angry before.

She turns around and pushes him as hard as she can, sending him stumbling back a few feet, causing Nikki to turn and look at her.

"You are such a spoiled little mama's boy because you want to crawl back inside her cunt!"

Tommy's fist makes impact with her mouth hard enough to knock her over, the sound echoing through the bus.

"Tommy!" I snap, standing up just as Nikki says, "Jesus Christ!" In shock to what just happened.

Tommy's mortified with himself, seemingly paralyzed for a moment as she turns back to us, blood dribbling from her mouth.

"I told you not to say that." He gasps out quietly, eyes wide and mouth open. "Fuck."

It's the last thing he says before sprinting to the back, closing the door behind him.

"Are you proud?" I hurl the words at her, staring her down before turning on my heel to go check on Tommy as the bus comes to a halt.

"Tommy?" I hesitantly ask, seeing him sitting, holding his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry." His broken voice cracks, sniffling back tears and I crouch in front of him and grab at his wrists, making him look at me.

His watery eyes meet mine, his face red with embarrassment, and his lips shake a little bit. "You probably think I'm a shitty, psycho, person or something.”

"I almost broke Vince's nose." I remind him, wiping away at the tears threatening to spill over his lashes. "I punched him in the face for a hell of a lot less than what Roxie just did. You're not a shitty person, Tommy. You’re not crazy. You just have a temper. Which is a human attribute that can be managed. I'm just surprised you let her get that much in, honestly. I would've knocked her out the second she called your mom that to begin with."

"I just got so angry, Viv. She shouldn't have said that."

"No, she shouldn't have." I agree, brushing his hair from his face.

"If other people hear about this, you'll know what they'll say, and I didn't mean to. It was just—I got so angry."

"We all know you didn't mean to, Tommy. God knows. Let people think what they want to." I suggest. "Besides, you can do better than someone who sells pictures of you guys having sex to porn magazines without your permission."

He wipes his eyes and smiles a little, looking at me.

"Yeah, I guess." He shrugs and I hug him tightly, closing my eyes for a moment.

"It will work itself out, Tommy. I promise."

Later that night at the hotel we pulled in at, Nikki's attempting to start on something new, strumming endlessly at his bass with a notepad in front of him on the floor as I brush my teeth and then comb through my hair to braid it loosely and keep it from tangling through the night.

Once I'm finished I cut the bathroom light off and step into the bedroom, crawling on the bed and sitting at the foot of it.

He's hard at work, attempting to come up with an instrumental to match whatever inspiration is brewing in his mind.

I wait for him to reach a stopping point before I hang my legs over the edge of the bed on either side of his neck, the heels of my feet touching at his abdomen and I fall back on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

His head turns for a moment his lips press to the side of my calf muscle of my right leg before he's back to work, and I drift off to sleep to the sound of him playing.

Early the next morning, the sunshine starts peaking through the curtains of the hotel room and I barely have time to sit up when I'm hit with—more like bombarded with—a heavy wave of nausea.

On my way to sprinting to the bathroom I nearly trip and fall on something in the floor, and I notice it's Nikki in the floor, a spoon and lighter beside him.

I don't make it to the toilet, vomiting in the sink instead, turning on the scalding hot water to wash it down as I wipe my mouth and look at myself in the mirror.

"Shit."

[vvelvetjimin]

bts reaction to s/o taking care of them ★

request from @lattaedutyfree : I love your writing! Do you think you could do one where he comes home and he’s exhausted and his whole body hurts so the reader is very caring and she runs him a hot bath and gives him pain meds and food and she kisses his bruises and scratches and it’s just super fluffy? for BTS please:)

kim seokjin

It had been a rough week for Jin.

He was stressing out over BTS’s latest comeback and had barely even had time to take a short nap. He was grumpy and sleepy and just wanted to come home to his beautiful girlfriend.

Finally, after his last dance practice of the week, he decided that it was high time to pay you a visit.

Once he arrived, he knocked on your door softly. You ripped open the door and immediately wrapped your boyfriend in your arms. He slumped into your arms and let out a sigh.

“Hey, baby girl.”

“Hi, Jinnie. I’m so happy you’re here,” you mumbled into his shoulder. You felt him smile. “Come on, honey, let’s get you inside.” You pulled him inside your door and to your couch where you proceeded to wrap him in a blanket and cuddle up next to him.

“Thank you, my love.”

min yoongi

It was a surprise to you when you finally saw Yoongi cry. He had been overworking himself for days trying to produce new music and lyrics for the upcoming album and had become increasingly frustrated with the block on his creativity. He refused to ask anyone for help, which led to you finding him in his studio with his head in his hands.

“Yoongi?” you called softly. He lifted his head and you noticed the streaks on his face left by the tears.

“Hey, baby. What are you doing here?” he mumbled.

“I brought you food, your favorite actually. I know you’ve been working so hard and you need a break.” His face broke out in a smile and his eyes began to water again. You ran over to him and cupped his face in your hands.

“I love you so much, princess. You mean the world to me.”

“I love you too, Yoongi-bear. I want you to take care of yourself. Come take a break and eat, and I’ll give you a back massage, okay?” He nodded at you and allowed you to pull him to the couch in his studio. You ran your fingers through his hair lovingly before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, feeling his shaky breath.

“I’ll never stop loving you.”

jung hoseok

Hoseok stumbled into your apartment with a frown on his face and exhaustion in his eyes. As soon as you saw him, you instantly scooped him into your arms and let him rest his weight on you.

“Hey, Hobi, what’s the matter?” you asked.

“I’m so tired, love. I’ve been working so much and this is the first break I’ve gotten in weeks!” You smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

“Come on, Hobi, let me run you a bath. I’ll make you some tea too okay? I know you’ve been working yourself to death.” Hobi returned your smile and embraced you. He followed you to your bathroom and helped you get the tub ready for an impromptu bath session. He began to undress as you left to get his tea from the kitchen.

You came back with a cup of chamomile and eased into the tub with him.

“I hope this makes you feel better, Hoseokie.”

“You always make me feel better, love.”

kim namjoon

Namjoon had been grouchy all week. He was constantly groaning and hadn’t taken time to get a proper amount of sleep in the last few days. You were starting to get really worried about him.

“Namjoonie?”

“Yes, baby girl?” he answered, albeit rushed.

“What’s the matter with you?” you asked. He raised his eyebrow.

“Nothing, baby, I’m just a little tired is all.” Knowing Namjoon hardly ever complains, you ran up to him and started feeling his head for temperature.

“You need to sit down right now, baby, let me take care of you, you’re probably sick!” you exclaimed, pushing him onto the bed. You ran out of the room and grabbed some pain medication before running back in. “Where does it hurt?” you asked. Namjoon was dying... of laughter.

“I’m fine, baby girl, really. I just need some rest.” You nodded and turned out the lights. You went to the bed and curled up against his side.

“Let’s go to sleep then, Joonie.” Namjoon fell asleep with a smile on his face.

park jimin

“(y/n)!” you heard Jimin call from the practice room. You had been at BigHit all day helping Bang PD with some new promotion ideas and were now just waiting on Jimin to finish practicing.

“Yes, my love?” you answered. When you didn’t get an answer, you rushed to the practice room to find out what was wrong. When you got there, you saw your boyfriend on the ground clutching his leg. “Jimin, what happened?”

“I just fell. It hurts, baby,” he said. You knelt down next to him and examined his leg. You noticed a bruise starting to form on his shin.

“Oh, love, I’m sorry. Lemme make you feel better.” You brought your face down and pressed a kiss to to bruise before moving up and pressing a kiss to his lips. “Do you want me to bring you any ice?”

“No, I just wanted you to come in here. This bruise is from weeks ago. But it worked though!” You groaned as your boyfriend began to laugh.

“Jimin, what the heck?” you said.

“I love you, baby,” he responded as he pulled you onto his lap and in for another kiss.

kim taehyung

I’m gonna be real honest here. I doubt Taehyung ever complains when he’s hurting. But anyways...

“Jagiya! There you are,” Tae said as he pulled you into his arms.

“What is it, Tae Tae?”

“I just need cuddles. I don’t feel good,” he said as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“Aww, baby, why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve made you food or gotten you medicine.”

“All I needed was you, angel. I just missed you so much. I think that’s why I’ve been feeling so bad.” He pulled you down into his lap and sat on the couch in the dorm. You wrapped your arms around him and pressed loving kisses into his neck. “Sing for me, jagi.”

You began to mumble a tune your parents used to sing to help you fall asleep. You felt Taehyung start to breathe heavily and you looked up at him to see that he had fallen asleep in your embrace. You grinned and kissed his chest before snuggling back into him.

“I love you Tae Tae.”

jeon jungkook

Namjoon had called you the second the Golden Maknae had refused to get out of bed. When you got to the dorm, the older boys ushered you into his golden closet and closed the door behind you.

“Jungkook?” No response.

“Kookie?” No response.

“Oppa?” You saw Jungkook’s eyes peek out from under the covers.

“Don’t call me that, you know better,” he mumbled. You smiled softly at him.

“What’s the matter, Kookie? The boys said you didn’t want to get up.”

“I’m so tired, princess. I haven’t gotten any decent sleep in the last month,” he whispered. You went over to him and caressed his cheek with your hand.

“Awwww, Kookie, I’m sorry. You want me to tell Namjoon oppa that you need to stay in today? I’m sure BigHit won’t mind if you take a rest break for a few hours.” He nodded sadly and you got up to inform Namjoon that the baby needed to sleep.

When you came back, you noticed that Jungkook was fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Kookie, you can go back to sleep now.”

“I was waiting on you, princess.” He gave you a smile and lifted up the covers to join him in bed. You were about to fall asleep pressed against his chest when you heard him whisper softly, “Thank you, my precious princess.”

[angrylizardjacket]

ask your destiny to dance [10] {Roger Taylor}

[masterpost]

When Ash opens the door to her room to see a grouchy Roger, she’s surprised to say the least. 

“Who let you in?” She asked, surprisingly defensive, wrapped in her nightgown, hair a mess from what he can see where she’s only got the door open a crack. 

“The van’s been sold,” he says instead, and Ash makes a face, and doesn’t open the door any wider. Actually, she just crossed her arms over her chest.

“So you came to me? Go away, Roger.” She’s not usually so short with him, and she goes to close the door but he holds out a hand, jaw clenched.

“The others are here too, the buyer lives here, on the first floor,” after a beat, he hesitates, “Freddie wanted to say hi.” And Ash finally relented, sighing deeply and pulling her dressing gown tighter around herself.

“Alright, lemme put some pants on, I’ll make tea.” She says, and it’s punctuated with a yawn, before she closes the door. When Ash closes the door, she takes a moment to rest her head against it, eyes closed, already exhausted.

“Who was that?” Comes a voice from her bed, and when she turns, she sees the sleepy smile of Tom or Travis or whatever his name is, and she lets herself smile back.

“A friend.” She tells him, walking with measured steps and an easy grin back to the bed, straddling him when he sits against the headboard. Ash moves in to kiss him, moaning gently as his hands find her smooth thighs beneath the bathrobe.

“Can he wait?” He asks, kissing her jaw as his fingers graze from her thighs up to pull at the sash of her dressing gown, exposing her to him, his hands moving to cup her boobs. Ash feels herself flush, eyes fluttering closed, laugh coming out a little breathy, but she moves back. 

For just a moment, with his hands on her, her eyes closed, she sees the way Roger had been grinning last night, with the girl at the other end of the bar, and how his gaze had flicked to Ash’s for just a second, and his smile had brightened in that moment. But then the girl at the bar kisses Roger and Ash drops a glass, and Tyler or Todd or whoever he is pinches her nipple and her eyes snap open. He’s grinning back at her, brown eyes dark as he looks her over, and Ash feels something tighten in her chest, so she kisses him rough, hands in his curly, blonde hair. He’s familiar, but not enough, and she doesn’t like to read into it-

“Pocket Rocket?” It’s Freddie who bangs on her door this time, and Ash turns bright red as the boy in her bed laughs the nickname quietly back to her, pinching her thigh.

“Yeah, gimme a sec, Freds.” She calls back, getting off of the boy with a sheepish smile.

“Your friends seem impatient.” He says, but gets out of bed obligingly, searching for his pants while Ash rifles through her drawer for something to wear. 

“Just get on some pants and go.” Ash says, a little beleaguered, and she hears him laugh as he pulls on jeans. As she’s bent over looking for a pair of short, he slaps her on the ass, and Ash turns sharply, eyebrows raised, small smile on her face. He just leans in and kisses her quickly.

“Thanks for last night.” He tells her, and she grins, leaning up on her tip toes to kiss him again in answer. When he leaves, he’s wearing jeans and an unbuttoned shirt, his shoes and socks in hand, and he runs directly into Freddie who’s waiting outside. “Sorry for keeping her, man, you know how it is.” He smirked, and Ash felt herself flush, stepping out after he’d left to see an amused Freddie.

“So, who’s your friend?” Freddie asks, following behind her as she walks out to the common room, and seeing John, Roger, and Brian all sitting around her kitchen table, feels herself turn bright red.

“Tommy... maybe.” She says, avoiding eye contact with them, a little, proud smile on her face. Freddie wolf whistles.

“Look at you go.” He says, draping himself in a seat at the table, watching with amusement as Ash shuffled around the kitchen, preparing tea for them all. As she worked, the others began talking over each other, excited at the prospect of recording an actual album, and she let herself relax as she listened. 

“How do you boys like your tea?” She asks, interrupting them, already putting a second sugar in the mug with cat faces on it. Brian and John tell her easily, Freddie smiles, knowing she already knows his, and Roger uses the lull to complain about selling the van again, not giving a real answer, and that starts them all up again, trying to tell him it was the right move for the band. When Ash puts Roger’s tea down for him, she gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze, and when he looks up at her, she gives him an apologetic smile, far more relaxed than when she’d opened the door for him earlier. He shoots back a tight smile, and just holds the familiar cup as she moves back to the counter.

“We’re recording tonight.” Brian announces, as Ash puts his drink down in front of him. “Do you wanna come along?” Taking a seat beside him, Ash takes a long sip of her own tea, looking between the four of them.

“Why?” She finally speaks, laughter a little confused.

“I want my number one fan there.” Freddie said proudly, grinning at her, and Ash smirked.

“Freds, you’re gonna be there either way.” She said fondly, and you hear a snort from Roger.

“You even up for it, Ash? How much sleep did you get last night?” He asks with a smirk. Freddie laughs at that, John hides his smile behind his mug, and Brian just shakes his head, but Ash just sits up straighter, lips quirking in a challenge as she narrows her eyes at him. 

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know, you pervert.” She tells him, the hint of a smile in his words, and he bites back his reply, a little flush because, yeah, he fucking missed it, missed her, not that he could say that here and now, not that he could ever say that out loud. “That’s what I thought.” She says, triumphant when he’s silent, but she can’t look him in the eyes, and she agrees to go to the recording studio.

When she turns up, a little late but excited nevertheless, Roger’s sitting outside, bouncing his leg, and looking like he’s waiting for something. His expression brightens when he sees her, though Ash just gives him an amused smile.

“You waiting for me?” She asked, and he tipped his head to the side as he stood, giving her an evaluating stare.

“Didn’t want you getting lost.” He half laughed, and Ash grinned at him, her hands stuffed in her pockets as he lead her inside the building.

“So you still, ah, getting out and about?” He asked, shooting for casual, though Ash snorted out a laugh at his awkwardness.

“Yeah, you know, since everything with August I’m just... enjoying myself, you know?” It’s been almost a full three months since the incident at Fife, and objectively Roger knew she’d probably want to get herself back out there, but he’d, well honestly, Roger had assumed she’d go for him when she was ready.

“Of course, makes sense.” There’s an awkward silence that hangs between them, and Ash comes to a halt before they make it to the recording studio, frowning up at him, obviously waiting for him to spit out whatever he was thinking. After a beat, he opens his mouth, but she cuts him off.

“I don’t give a fuck if you have a problem with what I’m doing, frankly it’s not any of your business.” She said flatly, and Roger shrugged.

“I don’t have a problem with it, I’m just surprised you didn’t ask me.” He admitted honestly, “I thought we had fun together at least,” and Ash actually laughed, smile a little sharp as she looked at him, and he knew he’d said the wrong thing.

“Yeah no, it was fun, and then I stopped meeting your standards or some bullshit, remember?” And her words sting a little, and Roger frowns.

“You’re still mad about that? I was just pissed about- about him.” And at even the suggestion of August, Roger can feel his blood boil a little. “I thought we were good.” He crows, and Ash gave him a thin smile.

“Yeah, we’re good, we’re fine,” which is clearly a lie, “you’ve done a great job at burying any suspicions the others had about us, because there’s no way in hell I’d ever go near you like that again.” And she turns to leave, but he’s still.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Of course you are.” She says, before she stops at the door, giving him a small, apologetic smile. “I’m still sorry about how things went down with us, Rog, but fuck, you really know how to make a girl feel like a dumbass for having feelings and shit. But whatever; we’re good.” And he calls her name as she opens the door to the studio, but someone comes bursting through.

“Oh! I’m so sorry- Rog, they’re asking for you!” It’s the girl from the bar last night, and Ash smiles brightly, with a glassy-eyed stare as everything comes shattering around her. “I know you! You’re the bartender! You must be the singer’s friend.” The girl seems so bright and sweet, and Ash holds out her hand automatically.

“Ash.” She introduces herself as, smile still frozen in place as the girl shakes her hand, introducing herself as Kristin. “You’re here with Roger?” Ash asks, and Kristin confirms with a giggle. Turning to look over her shoulder, Ash sees Roger with his eyes squeezed closed. Expression softening as she turns back to the sweet-faced Kristin, she lays a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Watch out for that one, he’s bad news.” And her tone is bright, and Kristin takes it like a joke as Ash swans past her into the recording studio.

“He’s fucking unbelievable sometimes.” Ash quiet enough that only Mary hears it when she takes a seat beside the blonde on the sofa. Mary wraps an arm around her, letting Ash tuck against her side as they watched the boys set up.

“I know, sweetheart.” Mary says, rubbing her arm in solidarity. “Pay him no mind, it’s gonna be a good night, you should have seen how excited Freddie was earlier; still is.” And it’s true Freddie’s bursting with energy, warming up; he sees Ash, and immediately bursts into the room, leaning down to wrap her in a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Ash.” He tells her, and Ash gives him a fond smile, despite her gently aching heart.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

the ususal suspects: @deakydickfanpage @hollyissuchahoe  @laueecakee  @smittyjaws @crystalshines2909 @i-am-sarah @legendsaresooftenwarnings @2ptonpt @benhardy24-7 @maiilovely @mickey-yr-a-goner @butter-times @heyyouitskay @tired-eyes-fairy-lights @yepimthatperson @missieluvsmurder @ironqueen98 @ceruleanrainblues@banhbao329 @fantasticchaoticwho @ko-kitty @seven-seas-of-hi @mimisfangirlfantasy @aadjuric @rogmobile @cardybenhardy @snacfu​ @perriwiinkle​

[themfchase]

Regret. PT II.

Jeon Jungkook x reader

‒ regret. (m)

✎  [6k words]

genre: angst, mature, idol!au

warnings: heavy angst, mentions of suicide attempt, cheating, dirty talk, mentions of smut Part III 

masterlist

Discription: It has been a few years since you last saw Jungkook, the boy who had broken your heart. You never wanted to see him again, and surely not now that you had gotten your life back together piece, by piece. Engaged to someone you liked, but not loved, your job as a songwriter was more successful than ever, and now you see yourself inside of the Bighit Entertainment building, ready to enter a meeting with the biggest Kpop group of all time, Bangtan. 

A/N: So, this is the sequel. Hope you guys like it. And lemme know what you think, ok ily, bye. 

It had been 2 years.  Two years since you stopped believing in love since you wore your shield and never let your walls down for anyone. It had taken you too long to get over what had happened to you. Your overdose, even if accidentally - That’s whats you told others, that’s what you told yourself. - still haunted your every move. Everyone around you started treating you differently after that, hovering, and being careful not to hurt your feelings. At the end of the day, everyone was fake. And you didn’t really care. You only really cared about two people in your life. Your best friend Wendy and your fiance Jihun. You were together for almost a year and everything happened so fast, dating, sleeping together, seeing each other almost ever weekend and then he proposed and you actually didn’t feel all that in love with him, but if you were to settle, he was the perfect one to do it with. He had a good job, he wasn’t clingy, he seemed very in love with you and that’s all you needed. Someone to love you more then you loved them.  After you left the clinic, you had almost four notebooks full of songs. That was all you had to distract you, to pour out your feelings, and when you finally left, you felt as if you had to do something with them. So, using a fake name you started selling your music. Eventually, big Kpop groups started to record them, and they became huge hits. Everyone knew about Persephone, the song writer that was taking over the Kpop scenario. You hated Kpop, not because the music was bad, or because it wasn’t your type of jam, but mainly because you knew what boys in Kpop were like.  Of course, it came as a surprise to you when a company you were very aware of contacting you. Bighit. When you got the email your heart stopped.  “Is everything ok Y/N?” JiHun asked as he heard me gasp. I must have looked completely shocked. Eyes staring into your phone as if you got a life treat, mouth slightly open and your breath out of pace. “Y/N?” He called you again.  You shake your head and look at him, then back at your phone.  “No, yeah, everything is fine, babe, just work stuff.” You said as you sat down on the couch of your apartment. Everything was in boxes or wrapped in bubble wrap, ready to go in some box. You were moving in with Jihun after the wedding and you had to get everything done before your honey moon. You read the email over and over again, not sure as to what to do about it. 

Dear Persephone,  We are so pleased to have gotten your new music catalog from your manager.  The songs are amazing! Congratulations.  But we have a proposal for you that we think might be in the best interest of both parties. How about we schedule a meeting?  Att, Bang PD Nim. You just kept reading it, over and over. It might not even be for Bangtan, calm down. You argued with yourself mentally. It was Bighit after all, it was PD Nim. You closed your eyes for a second, your heart beating so loud in your chest you were afraid Jihun might hear it. What if it was for Bangtan? You swore to yourself never to cry about the boy who broke your heart ever again, but... for some reason, the pain was there, it was faint and barely noticeable, but it was there. You swallowed, feeling your mouth dry, you were panicking. You stood up and grabbed your jacket.  “I’m going for a walk... Ok? I’ll be right back.” You told your fiance and he just smiled in agreement.  You walked for and hour before you stopped at the last place you would imagine. You just stood there and looked up at the building you haven’t seen in two years. You knew he didn’t live there anymore, but still, the memory of the both of you ending it for good was still imprinted in your memory as if it was yesterday. At that very spot, you were standing as he lied so cruelly in your face. But you were over it, weren’t you? You asked yourself not knowing the answer. You were older, more mature, more secure of yourself and to top it all, you were engaged. You were over it! You sat down on the curb of the sidewalk and took out your phone. It was cold, you could see the air leaving your lungs and you knew your cheeks were a little red. You opened your email, ever single tap on the screen your heart skipping a beat. As you tapped reply you closed your eyes for a moment, maybe trying to gain courage or just hovering over the idea of seeing him again, and then you just replied.  Hello Mr. Bang. It would be my pleasure to work with you. Please let me know a day and time so we can discuss whatever proposal you have for me. Thank you for the opportunity. Best Regards,  Perse.  You locked your phone and then finally let the air out of your lungs. You didn’t even know you were holding it in until you saw it leaving your mouth into the cold air.  You had made your decision, and it was to be professional. You were very good at what you did, so, whatever they had to offer would come easily for you.  You felt better, better with yourself, your thoughts and as you walked away from that building yet again, it didn’t feel painful, it just felt like closure. 

You weren’t nervous. 

As a matter of fact, you were very confident. You had decided to wear a black tight Lycra dress, a leather jacket, some combat boots and a necklace that Jihun had gotten you with his name on it.   As you walked into the building you checked your phone, you were twenty minutes early, and went up to the receptionist. You gave her your fake name and said you had an appointment with PD Nim, she checked the schedule and gave you a key card so you could use the elevators.  When it reached the floor the receptionist said your meeting would be held, you walked over to the meeting room, and knocked. A few seconds later you were greeted by a man you didn’t know.  “You must be Persephone,” The man said as he gestured for you to enter the room. “It nice to put a face on the name, we had no idea what you looked like” He smiled.  “Please, call me Perse.” You said and smiled. As you entered the room, you saw Bang PD Nim, he smiled and got up from his chair.  “Perse, so nice to meet you,” He said in a low voice. You were a very big fan of his, and for him to know your music was just a honer.  “Oh no, Mr. Bang, the pleasure is all mine,” You said as you smiled and shook his hand in awe. “Please, take a seat, the boys are just finishing practice and should be here any minute now.” He said as he sat back down in his chair, the other man sat beside him.  You took a seat opposite from where they were, in the middle of the table while you saw the other seven chairs beside the men.  The three of your started small talk, they asked you about traffic and about the weather outside, and even if you weren’t nervous about seeing the boy you haven’t seen in so long, you were nervous to be talking to PD Nim. Not to long after you guys engaged in talking about some of the songs you wrote that were charting your heard a knock on the door, and the man who had greeted you stood up to open it.  The first one you saw was Jin. He was slightly sweaty and smiled and bowed as he walked into the room. You got up from your chair and bowed back. Then came Namjoon, Hoseok, and Tae, they also smiled and bowed and you smiled back. They sat near PD. Your heart started beating fast as you saw Jimin and Yoongi come in and you bowed down, maybe a little too much, maybe a little to long, so when he came, at last, you couldn’t really see him. When you got up again, your eyes met and as if he had seen a ghost he just stopped mid way into his bow. He looked shocked, he looked completely and utterly scared. His hair was pitch black, a little longer than you remember, his eyes still had the childlike look, but he looked more manly now. You knew that if you kept staring the others might notice, so you looked back at the other boys and smiled.  “Nice to meet you all, I’m Persephone.” And you sat back down, avoiding Jungkook completely.  It took him a few more seconds before he shook his head and sat down staring straight at the table. You glanced at him. He didn’t look so different, he looked a little more mature. More muscles. You then noticed his hair was a little wet from sweat, witch reminded you of the last time you saw him. You felt little nausea for a second but regained your posture.  “Boys, you are familiar with Persephone’s work.” Bang PD, started. “We asked her to come here today because we want her to help you guys wright music”. You looked at PD Nim, unaware of the whole thing. “The idea, Perse, even though we love what your manager has sent us, is that the boys be a part of the creation process of this new album”. He continued. “And we love your work and think you could be an asset for them.” You nodded. Not sure if you liked the idea of spending time with Jungkook in a studio, but this was your job, wasn’t it? You bit your lower lip and Jungkook looked at you something different in his eyes, but you didn’t look back.  “How do they work with harmonies? Do any of you play any instruments?” You looked from PD Nim to the boys. Yoongi raised his hand.  “I play the piano and produce some stuff sometimes, but RM and Jungkook are producing as well.” Hearing his name said out loud made you shift in your seat.  You nodded, and your eyes met Jungkook’s again. He was observing you. He was looking at every inch of you. How different you looked even thought you looked the same at the same time. You had changed so much in the last two years, and you knew that is was for the better.  “Ok, I can work with that.” You smiled as you looked at PD Nim again. “I’m down for it, just let me know when we start cause I have something coming up.” You then realized you were getting married in a few months. PD Nim raised his eyebrows curiously.  “Are you working with someone else? Because we might have you sign an exclusivity contract for the time you work with the boys, we want your full attention.” You smiled a little wider as you felt your cheeks blush a little. 

“No sir, I’m getting married, actually”. Your hand automatically went up to your necklace and all eyes followed. You heard someone choke, and you knew who it was. The boy's attention shifted to him as he regained composure. PD Nim smiled and congratulated you as for the other boys, except one and you felt a burn in the side of your face as Jungkook stared at you. You refused to look at him, this all started to feel a little overwhelming for you.  “Well ok then! I think we’re done here, I’m going to have to leave you guys cause I have another meeting, but feel free to talk and schedule everything, we’ll have someone call your manager to discuss payment and contracts, ok?” You stood up. You dress a little high up your thigh’s and you bowed as you took the man’s hand. You felt a pair of eyes stare at them. As soon as he left you sat back down, looking at the boys. You had never actually met them when you where with Jungkook, so it was most likely they didn’t know who you were.  “Hey, congrats on the song charting, I think it’s amazing,” Hoseok said breaking the silence. He was so cute and smiley that it made you feel a lot better for a moment. “Thank you! I had that song for a long time, it was nice to see Twice record it and turn it into something people could relate to.” You smiled at him and he nodded. “But hey, I’m in a room with BTS the biggest Kpop group in the world so, I’m not feeling so bad right now.” You joked and the boys laughed, all except Jungkook, again. He was still unable to gasp the idea that you were in a room with him. He looked down at the table giving you the impression he wasn’t even paying attention to you anymore. “But tell me, do any of you try writing music?” Yoongi started talking about some songs he had, and Namjoon as well. They said they were only rough demos, but agreed to let you take a look.  “Also, Jungkook wrote some stuff a couple of years ago, but we were in our ‘I Need U” phase so we didn’t get the opportunity to work on anything, but for what I remember they were pretty good, you could show her, right Jungkook?” Yoongi asked and the boy looked up at him.  I looked at Jungkook, he looked so troubled and nervous. He looked at me, our eyes meeting yet again. It was like fire. I felt as if every time we looked at each other the tectonic plate of the entire world just collapsed. He then looked away, letting me breathe normally again.  “Sure, why not?” It was the first time he spoke the entire time we were in the room. His voice sent a shiver down my spine. I had forgotten what he sounded like, I had forgotten how much his voice had an effect on me.  “Ok, so, give us your phone number, we can create a group chat so we can schedule everything just fine,” Namjoon said and I agreed.  When the meeting was finally over, the man who now I knew was the boy's manager opened the door for me. Everyone left the little room to enter the hallway.  “Well, it was nice meeting you all, we should talk soon,” I said and they bowed as they said their goodbyes. You turned you back at them and started walking to the elevator. You knew that you had to leave as soon as possible. As the elevator opened you entered, feeling a bit of relief as you hadn’t noticed how fast and loud your heart was beating. But as the doors closed a hand stopped them and the last person on earth you wanted to be alone with got in and presses the button so the door closed.  “You have a thing for elevators, don’t you?” He said with a straight face. “Oh no... We’re not doing this.” You decided to ignore the comment and crossed your arms over your chest.  He sighed and bit his lower lip.  “Y/N...” He started, the way your name left his mouth, the way it reminded you of the last time you spoke. Anger started building up. “It's Perse to you, or Noona, make your pick.” You looked him in the eyes and it all came back, rushing thorugh you like a tsunami of feelings. The pain, the anger, all the suffering, you tried your best not to show your emotions, and you had learned you were actually very good at it, but with this boy, the only boy you had ever loved and hated in your entire life, it almost felt impossible. Jungkook had this look, as if he wanted to say so much, but didn’t have the courage. He then looked devastated as he remembered why you left in the first place.  Silence filled the air, as the elevator sound was all you heard. Jungkook looked at your necklace, his brows meeting.  “Your getting married.” He said, with pain in his voice. “I’m happy for you.” He lied.   You shook your head, not believing the way he was acting. It was the same pity act from when you broke up. As the elevator came to a stop, you shot out of it, not looking back, but you knew he would come after you. When you heard the first syllable from your name you turned around raising your hand and stopping him.  “Look... Let’s keep this professional, ok?” You started and he clenched his jaw. “I am not Y/N, I am not your ex... Whatever we were, I am Persephone, a song writer, a very good one, and you will respect that and keep all our encounters strictly professional, understand?” He didn’t move, but you knew he wasn’t going to argue. “No more running after me, no more chasing me off buildings, I got over you, you should do the same.” And with that, he raised an eyebrow and smirked.  “Who said I never got over you?” His voice was soft but full of pride. “I’m not the one who went to extremes after our break up.” And with that, you just shook your head and smiled bitterly.  “Fuck you, Jungkook”. And you turned around to walk away from him. Anger building up inside you as you finally left the building and walked to your car.  The truth was that you hated him. Hated him with every inch of your existence. 

The first two weeks working with the boys went smoothly, Yoongi and Namjoon were very talented and their songs were amazing even though you had to change some things here and there. They were also very funny and fun, especially Yoongi. He was amazing, very talented and of course, hot. You couldn’t help but stare at him when we played the piano, it was just mesmerizing.  You already had three songs done, and that was a record for you. Three songs in two weeks. You were happy writing with the boys, not even bothered when Jungkook would appear and ask Yoongi something and just competently ignore you, now and then. When you got the message from Namjoon scheduling a writing session with Jungkook you thought about saying no. But you were the one that had suggested being professional, so you said yes. And as you walked to his studio with a cup of coffe in your hand you stopped, reading the words on his door. “Golden Closet”. You laughed and knocked. You heard him shout a ‘come in’ and you opened the door.  He was sitting in his chair, looking at the screen of his McBook, playing around with Protools. He was in a black hoodie and ripped blue jeans, Timberlands on his feet. You closed the door behind you and stepped in, sitting down on a black sofa and taking out your little black notebook. When he finally looked at you he leaned back on his chair, resting his head. He looked amazing. Like he always did.  “Hi.” He said with a soft voice. You rolled your eyes as you looked up at him.  “Good morning”. You answered coldly. “So... Let’s get started.”  Jungkook did nothing, taking in your cold persona before he smiled. Not a sweet smile, or a shy one, just a bad, full of cruelty one, just like the terrible person he was. And that same smile sent a shiver down your spine because you recognized it. You knew what it meant. “You know, it’s actually really weird being alone in a room with you.” He said and you gave up on trying to ignore him.  You sighed, resting your notebook by your side and looking at him. “And why is that, Jungkook?” You asked just for his amusement. He was like a child that wanted attention.  “Well... I don’t know if you remember, but you were my first, so... It’s kind of a big deal for me.” He smirked.  He was a dick. He was an utterly, big, motherfucking dick.  “Well... I wouldn’t really remember, you weren’t very good you know?” You shot back at him and his eyes darkened. He was offended, his pride was hurt because he didn’t know if you were lying or not.  “Oh, we can change that.” He said with lust in his eyes. “You just gotta ask baby.”  His words made you shiver, you could only imagine what he might have learned in these two years after you broke up. You felt the hair in the back of your neck stand, and you thanked god that you wore long sleeves. The fact that he called you baby only made things worse. Of course, your body would react to him, it’s not like he stopped being attractive from day to night, you couldn’t deny he was hot, oh and had gotten hotter, bigger. You bit your lower lip, trying to fight the annoyance in you.  “In your dreams”. You said with anger in your voice starting to gather your things and walk to the door. You weren’t gonna do this. You couldn’t. Not with the effect he had on you. As soon as you reached for the door, you felt his hand on your wrists, he turned you around and pinned you to the door, raising your hand atop of your head, his body glued to yours. Your heart started beating loudly in your chest from the surprise, but mainly because of how close he was.  “Get the fuck off”. You said with a shaky voice, your breath hitched.  “I can fucking feel the way your heart is beating right now, and I bet you don’t want me to let you go, I bet you can feel the way you're getting hotter, and hotter”. He said in a low husky voice, his breath brushing on your lips and he looked down at them as they parted. “Why are you going to deny this? Since the moment I first saw you in that meeting room until now, I can tell how I make you feel, how your body reacts to me, don’t try to fucking lie.”  “Oh, no... That’s your specialty, not mine”. You attacked him, your breath was loud and heavy. Your body was indeed getting hot, the way his body pressed against yours, the way his pink plush lips looked like as he hovered you.   “Always a fucking bitch.” He pressed his body harder onto you and you could feel the bulge in his pants.  You held in a groan as you felt his erection. His smell was just as intoxicating as you remembered. The way he was looking at your lips with so much hunger almost made you fear for yourself. He was different. He was more experienced now, and you couldn’t help but feel curious.  “You know...” He started, brushing your lips with his so lightly you could barely feel it. “I bet you are wet right now.” You closed your eyes as his voice started to hypnotize you, his smell, the touch of his fingers on your wrist. “I bet this is the fastest you’ve gotten wet in so long, faster then any other guy every made you, even that pathetic little fiance of yours”. And as if you were brought back to reality, your eyes shot open, and you raised your knee, hitting the boy where you knew would hurt the most. He let you go and fell down on his knees, grouping his groin as he felt the pain sink in.  “You bitch.” He said through the groans of pain.  “If you ever do that again, I will make sure that dirty little dick of yours never works again”. You threatened and left the room.  You ran to the bathroom, not afraid Jungkook would come after you, but mainly because you needed to breathe. You turned on the water and washed your face as you felt the heat in your body start to cool off. You couldn’t believe yourself. If he had left to mention you fiance, you would have given into him. You would have cheated. You. Cheated. The idea made you sick. How could you? How could you let the boy who had broken you have such an effect on you? And worse, when you were engaged. You felt like you were about to cry so you shook it off.  No, you weren’t going to cry because of him. Oh no. Not again. Not ever. But you still had a whole day of work, and you had to face him or else people would get suspicious and the last thing you wanted was people hovering into your personal life.   As you made your way back to his studio you put up your walls. It doesn’t matter that its Jungkook, just do your freaking job. You scolded yourself and opened the door seeing the boy on the floor, still trying to recover from the recent attack.  “Get up, we’ve got work to do”. You said as you sat back down on the couch.  “Baby, you came back so soon.” He said, with sarcasm and pain in his voice. He started to get up slowly, sitting back in his chair as he took a deep breath. “Now, that wasn’t professional at all, Y/N.” He said with a smirk on his face.  You just wanted to slap him. Slap that dirty smirk off his face.  When you threatened to leave again he stopped you, holding your hand.  “Ok, ok, I’ll stop. Just sit down...” The way he held your hand made you hold your breath, and you looked at him. “Please.” He asked as he looked you in the eyes. You fought the urge to hold his hand tighter, so you just pulled your hand from his and sat back down.  Jungkook wasn’t wrong when he said you had gotten wet faster then any other man had ever made you get, and the discomfort between your thighs was there as he faced his notebook and started opening a new session.  You ignored the familiar feeling in your gut and concentrated on the song he was now playing.  “This is something a wrote a couple of years ago, we can maybe work on it? It’s called The Truth Untold”. He said without looking at you.  As the song started playing, Jungkook laid back on his chair again, his hands on his lap. Was he nervous? He played around with his fingers as the first four notes of the piano played. When his voice came on the speakers you remembered why you had fallen in love with him so long ago.  It was perfect.  His voice was so beautiful and full of life. Just as you remembered. You paid attention to the lyrics, this sad story of how you could love someone that might never love you again, and the whole idea of burring yourself deeper and deeper each time with your flaws and mistakes. Why was he showing you this song? Why this one? It felt as if he had written it about something that was too familiar to you. You felt the whole you thought you had healed ache in pain after so long, burning so vividly and real as if it was happening all over again. Your heart racing, your palms sweaty, the nausea, the dizziness. You felt the ball build up in your throat, and you knew what would happen next.  “Stop.” You asked with your weak voice.  You closed your eyes, pulling back the tears.  “What? Do you not like it?” He said looking at you. He then noticed your facial expression, looking down at his hands as he noticed why you asked him to stop.  You two must have been silent for about ten minutes, just taking in the pain of the way things ended between the two of you.  “I’m so sorry.” He finally said, his voice so full of regret and sorrow.  You looked up at him, he still stared at his hands. Then you realized.. “That’s the first time you’ve apologized.” Your voice was so low, he almost didn’t hear you. He looked at you, resting his head on the chair.  “I am... Truly. Deeply.” And you knew he wasn’t lying. “Nothing can change what I did, and what it meant to you, but... I never want to make anyone suffer the way I made you suffer.”  You took in his words. You didn’t even know you wanted to hear them until he said it. The way he was talking, the way he was admitting to his fault, he had matured. And it almost felt as if you could forgive him. But deep down... You still couldn’t trust him. Maybe you would never trust him again.  “I wondered every day since that day how you’ve been. I’ve asked Wendy multiple times and she refused to say anything, so I just assumed you were good. But then I found out about the overdose, the clinic and it hit me... I was no good for you. I had to leave you alone, I had to make sure I would never hurt you again.” You just heard the new information, you didn’t know he had gone after you, you thought he had given up completely, and somehow, knowing that he went after you made everything even harder to bare. “Why would you do that? Why would you harm yourself because of me?” There was so much pain in his eyes that it almost matched your own.  “Because I loved you Jungkook...” And you didn’t even know why you were admitting it. “I loved you with all my heart and you broke me in a way that I felt I wouldn’t be able to endure”. You vomited your words, your eyes glued to his. “The fact that you didn’t love me after everything was too much for me.”  “But I did love you... Damn you are the only girl I ever loved.” Your heart stopped for a second. He didn’t say was he said are. “Why are you here? Why would accept this job and put yourself through this?”  “Because I don’t love you anymore.” And your body felt weird. Almost as if you were lying. His brows met in pain as he heard your words. “I wanted this job, and even though I knew you would be here, I knew I could do it because I am ok with it, I moved on, I got over it... it doesn’t even matter anyway, I’m engaged.” You tried to reassure yourself.  “Do you love him?” He asked and the question startled you. He wasn’t looking at you now... He just stared at his legs. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.  “That’s none of your business.” You got up, nervous. You had to go, you had to leave. Jungkook saw your struggle, but he wanted an answer.  He got up and stopped in front of you.  “No, answer me.” He said, so close for the second time in one day. “If you tell me you love him I’ll let you go, I’ll let you go forever, for good.” There was something in his voice. There was this tiny sound of hope in his words.  You couldn’t say anything, you just tried to pass him, but he again held your wrists, stopping you from moving.  “Say it.” He demanded. “Say you love him, tell me that you want to be with him, that he’s the one for you.” And as you felt the tears build up in your eyes and the pain strike you, you just looked at Jungkook and shook your head.  “I can’t.” You said and you felt his heart beating in his chest. His breath was a little louder.  “Then why? Why are you with him? Why are you marrying someone you don’t love?” He asked, his brows furrowed.  “Because Jungkook!” You started getting angry. “I needed someone to make me forget, I needed someone to do what you couldn’t. Someone who would care for me and think only of me, someone who would love me as much as I loved you!” Your tears started falling down on your cheeks. You didn’t have the straight to fight them anymore. 

“And did you?” He asked, now closer then ever, his chest pressed against yours. “Forget me?”   You stared into his eyes, you couldn’t say it. You couldn’t let him know. You couldn’t go through this again, not like this, not with him. But he already knew the answer. He already knew that you had thought of him every single day of your life. Wondering what it would have been like if he hadn’t made that mistake. If he hadn’t hurt you so bad.  “Come back to me.” He whispered and closed his eyes as he rested his forehead on yours, letting go of your wrists and cupping your face. “Please... Come back to me.”  And you felt your body hurt, the way he begged for you to be his again. The way you felt how eager he was to hold you again. The regret in his eyes, his voice. You knew he wasn’t trying to trick you, you knew he was being truthful. But the image you dreaded just came flashing back into your head. Him inside another girl. His words when he said he owed you nothing. And you just couldn’t. You loved yourself more than this, even though you really wanted him. Even tough you had never loved anyone more then you loved him. You just couldn’t.  “No”. And you pulled back from him. Looking into his eyes, you saw the pain so clear and so vivid. He was broken, just as broken as you were.  “Y/N... Please.” He begged again. Trying to get close to you. “I love you... I love you so much.” And with each word you felt as if there was someone stabbing your chest. Him admitting to loving you after so long just made you feel like screaming, running. Not from him, but to him. But it hurt so much you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to bare it again. “Please, give me a chance to prove to you that I’ve changed, that I would never hurt you again.”  “Don’t you see Jungkook? Your words that are supposed to make me feel happy only hurt me. Only make me feel broken and devastated.” You took another step back. “I can’t trust you, I can’t come back to someone that only makes me hurt every time I look at them.”  And with that, he backed away. Looking as if he had lost a long and tiring battle.  “I never wanted to make you feel that way about me, about us.” He put both hands in his pockets and looked down.  And as if you were breaking your own heart all over again. You said what you needed to say to assure yourself he wouldn’t come after you again. 

“You should have thought of that two years ago.” And you started walking towards the door. Jungkook didn’t look back, he didn’t turn around, but once again, you held your breath and felt your heart sink as he said.  “Y/N... I’m not giving up. I’m gonna prove it to you... I’m gonna win you back no matter what it takes.” And there was a part of you. Not a small one. That wanted him to succeed.  

[imaminoccultation]

Letter 5: The Mahasi Cross - How to do a Saarid Baptism

Peace be upon those who follow the right path. Not gonna lie to you, friends, occultation’s been more than a little tense lately. You see, ‘Umar’s been having…a fit. 

I wanna be clear about something. I don’t hate ‘Umar. I mean, I live with him. He’s intelligent, well-read, and an all-around swell guy, as far as Sudanese Sunni fundamentalists go. Unfortunately, however, being a gay Shi’i makes our living situation tense: you see friends, ‘Umar and I have an ongoing debate. Yeah, we’re those kinds of people.

“Did the Prophet Muhammad explicitly designate Ali as his successor (Shi’i position), or did he die without appointing a successor, leaving the community to come to a consensus on Abu Bakr as the first caliph? (Sunni position)”

You’d think this is a low stakes historical question that can be debated rationally, but as we will soon discover, you can tell at a glance if someone’s Sunni or Shi’i by how they respond to it. A Sunni will probably start making some jokes about nepotism and dynastic rule (and I mean, they’re not…wrong), whereas the Shi’i will probably start with giving you an Islamic studies course until by the end, all you can say is “I mean if I accept all those very hard to prove other premises I GUESS you’re right”

Advice: don’t say that, it just encourages them. This is why ‘Umar has taken to more violent means lately. Now, don’t be concerned: ‘Umar is not dangerous. That is, as far as Sunni fundamentalists go. He thinks I am a Raafidhi (Rejecter, namely, Rejecter of consensus) and a heretic and might as well call myself an atheist, which, I mean, you know, if ya think Omar on MBC is a good TV show, I mean, sure. I can get how you’d say that. And if you’re like ‘Umar and won’t even watch Omar on MBC because it’s haram to depict a caliph, then I definitely get why you say that, which is why, ‘Umar, I’ve had to lock you out of the room. I understand this specific heresy is especially confusing, but I’m sure with time and rational argumentation, you’ll come to forgive me. I’ll spare the Islamic studies course, though. 

Let’s talk about something the kids are actually into: Nubia. Aha, the magic word! Now I know I have Black people’s attention, and it has a lot to do with why I think you’ll come to forgive me, ‘Umar. But, you know, if you keep banging on the door while I’m trying to talk to you, there’s very little chance you’ll learn anything.

Now friends, here’s the trick. I have a stash of hip-hop records, like any true kaafir. One of my personal favorites: Illmatic, by Nas, probably one of the best hip-hop albums ever. I know, I know, super basic take but the truth doesn’t always need to blow your mind, people. Anyways! I put on “One Love,” and, boom! With an astaghfurallah, the Salafi goes away, and this Imam in occultation can live to guide his community another day.

Lemme tell you the heresy that got ‘Umar so riled up this time. You see, I was walking down the streets of Tucson in my usual fashion, along the most infamous corner in the city: Grant & Alvernon. I looked over at the Eegee’s: so many memories, so many stories. A place that probably taught me more about Islam than any mosque I was ever forced to go to.

But that’s neither here nor there. Grant & Alvernon is really not that bad. I mean, people regularly do heroin in the restrooms, and a lot of people had set up a pretty sick camp decked out with a couch till the city decided to expel them from their camp, but I mean, like, can you imagine being homeless? In Tucson? This city is dangerous as fuck. And when the summer hits…holy shit, you gotta fucking watch out.

It always makes me think of the Song of Daybreak....

ألم يجدك يتيماً فأوى

Didn’t you see how God found you orphaned, then took care of you?

ووجدك ضالاً فهدى

Found you lost, then guided you?

ووجدك عائلاً  فأغنى

Found you helpless, then gave you power?

فأما اليتيم فلا تقهر

So why treat the orphan with harshness?

وأما السائل فلا تنهر

Don’t turn away those who ask you questions!

وأما بنعمة ربك فحدث

Tell them about the blessings of your Lord.

I hate people who make this shit all about the afterlife. I mean, that’s obviously a part of it, but for me Islam is also the religion of the here and now. Common sense. What’re you gonna do with the tools God gave you to make the world suck less? I mean, that’s a pretty fair way to get into Paradise.

Wish Tucsonians got this message, they’re the worst to their homeless people. Mainly white Tucsonians. Mainly Christians. Even Sudanis aren’t as bad. From my experience, people treat them like they’re subhuman despite the fact that every single institution in society is built to prevent them from building back up. At least Muslims have more fucking humility about it, cause like half the Recitation is about how being a dick to poor people is bad. Which, you know, I mean, I don’t know about you guys, but that sounds pretty fair. For the most part, I’ve found that, as long as you talk to a homeless person like they’re a human being, they’re not a threat. There are exceptions, of course, but I mean, they are also people. But what do I know? I’m a Raafidhi heretic.

Anyways. Walking down Grant & Alvernon, seeing everything wrong with white Christian capitalism happening in the same spot: come across this one kid I know, Saarid son of Maarid. The storyteller. The rhyme is sick, right? He was doing something I’d never seen him do before: read. But you know…positive development. Saarid’s smart as hell. See him around here all the time with his friends. Bit of a quiet guy, smokes way too much for a 13 year old. I mean, come on, that is very Sudanese of him, but like, Jesus Christ my good dude. Anyways, I slap the cigarette out of his hand and ask: “ya walad inta gaa’id tagra shnu? Bitdakhhin kamaan?” (“Nigga what YOU reading? Are you smoking?!”)

He looks me dead in the eye: “al-Injil.” (“The Gospel.”)

You see why I like this kid? Doesn’t take shit from nobody.

“Which one?”

“John, you know, in the beginning was the…”

Oh not this Trinitarian shit again. Feels like a sign. What can I say? I’m superstitious. Prophet Maryam and Nubia are on my mind a lot these days…probably cause I love me some Nubian Mary icons. That shit is fire. And, being a Believer in Hikma, AKA a Shi’i Gnostic, AKA a Muslim Mystic, AKA an Islamic Neoplatonist I’m delighted to see that Orthodox Christian theology has a lot of parallels to Neoplatonist ideas, even in the Trinity. I mean…they maintain the Trinity is a paradox not meant to be comprehended by the human brain, to which I have to say…okay whatever. But as somebody who grew up in a faith tradition that emphasized rituals as a path to divine union, I mean, I get their theology. Plus, they got the coolest art. Sorry to all the other Christians. Nubians and Ethiopians especially are my favorite. 

Anyways, I ask Saarid: “Do you want to convert?”

Saarid: “Well, I want to do my reading cause I don’t want to read something later and then change my mind.”

“Leyh?”

Saarid: “What?”

“Why are you afraid to change your mind? It’s natural!”

I think I have a hunch. In Sudani communities, people are crazy fucking Sunni. I only just clocked it, but hey, better late than never. Saahib az-Zamaan, the Leader of the Time, he’s helping me see it more clearly now. I know it worries him…sectarianism is deadly. Always has been, probably always will be…unless the Leader of the Time comes out of occultation. And that’s a big if. Who knows, maybe the real Leader of the Time is actually an alien. Anyways, Orthodox Sunnis don’t approve of any sort of religion change away from Orthodox Sunnism. People even tell you that’s punishable by death.

I mean, it don’t gotta be, but it’s still not a pleasant experience to leave Orthodox Sunnism and try to tell Orthodox Sunnis, lemme tell you. They think they’re so right about everything that’s ever happened in Islamic history. So, I have this urge to rock their world a little. I mean…sectarianism did get Imam Hussayn killed, right? At the very least, I’d rather not have people slitting throats over which God you believe in. Everybody gotta be free to pick their own relationship with Allah.

So, I was like “Look, want me to explain the Orthodox Trinity to you? I’ll teach ya some Nubian prayers, and I’ll baptise you and give you a medieval Nubian Christian name. Just don’t go to these white people churches, they’ll exploit the shit out of you. The beautiful Nubian Christian heritage of Faras Cathedral, where authority of the Nubian Church was once held and Christianity was practiced, is unfortunately flooded by Lake Nubia. It’s a crime against humanity, but knowing it exists is a reminder you can be a Christian your own way. Just don’t tell your parents. They’d kill you if they knew I did this. It’s not a proper baptism, but hey, now you got something to tell people who try to sell you on their church.”

After a surprisingly deep discussion of theology and scripture, I walked into the Eegee’s and asked for a cup of water. Look, I have a secret to tell you: my grandparents were baptised in the Nile. Long after the fall of the Nubian Orthodox Church in Sudan, people would baptise their babies in the Nile, then draw a cross on their forehead with kohl, like eyeliner, but not? Anyways, I don’t got kohl, but it’s not like the Gospel of John tells you how this shit is supposed to be done, anyway, I dip my finger into the water and inspired by my ancestors I draw a cross on Saarid’s forehead.

 I said:

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit

I Christen thee Iesounkouda – Servant of Jesus

A member of the Mahasi Church of our ancestors, which the oppressors of Egypt flooded and destroyed.

But today, just as your Lord and Savior, Jesus was resurrected, our ancestors' belief in Jesus was resurrected in thee.”

He said amen. 

“Welcome to Christianity, Iesou!” 

I’ve been inspired by the flexibility of doctrine I’ve seen in the Community of Christ or in the Episcopal Church, I know people think Muslims can’t be that way, but I mean, I’ve been to el-Gezira. Diaspora kids really exaggerate how religious Sudanis are sometimes, your parents might be boomers, but, you know, it’s not like Wardi’s singing ‘bout his wife. I wish that for the Sudani community: I can walk into an Episcopal Church, see a queer woman serve mass with no one batting an eye. I want Iesou to feel that safe, you know? I sympathize. I’m on my second religious minority, third if you count Orthodox Sunnism while living in fucking Arizona, and poor Iesou here…oh boy. I mean, you see the level of oppression and neglect Nubian Christians faced and face: look at Faras Cathedral. Flooded, with tons of its most precious icons cut up and taken out to white people museums. Disgusting. 

And I mean, I don’t get why niggas so uptight about it, I mean, like, fuck, I’m Shi’i and Mahasi, right? Well, before that, I was atheist (and there are Nubian atheists), and then before that, my family was Orthodox Sunni, and before that, Sufi Muslim, and before that, Orthodox Christian, and before that, who knows how many different kinds of indigenous Nubian religions there were. The evidence we do have suggests it shared a lot with the ancient Egyptian religion.

And like, every time, you know Sudanis, we extra about everything. I’m sure this’ll sound familiar to the white Tucsonians and Christians, too. Nubian kingdoms tend to be zealous, for lack of a better word – even Sudani Mahdi was Dongolawi. Correlation, not causation. But think about it!

I think of a joke my dad likes to tell. It’s about how Halfawi Nubians always be blaspheming. Personally, as a Nubian, I find the suggestion I could partake in anything someone could call blasphemy utterly heretical (sarcasm) I do not endorse tribalism, but, like, come on, loosen up, don’t lose track of the point at hand:

Halfawi Nubian A: Bro my uncle just died

Halfawi Nubian B: No way, he was committing heresy just a second ago ;-;

(khaalu laughter ensues, echoing through the deywaan)

Sometimes I wonder if it’s cause Halfawis might’ve given up Christianity relatively late and always been saying shit that pisses the Orthodox Sunnis off. But anyway, who cares? I’m saying, religious flexibility is in our blood. There was room for everybody in the Kingdom of Alwa. Room for everyone in Makuria. Should be room for Iesounkouda among Sudanis.

This is also an option for you, Sudanis who might wanna be Christian but don’t wanna give in to the scourge of American white Protestantism. There are tons of African Christianities, and you got Mahasism as a placeholder. Suntuwekane has resources in Old Nubian, and there’s a Nobiin Gospel of Mark, plus all 4 Gospels written in Kenzi by a Nubian convert named Samuel Hassanayn.

Just be smart about your religion. You know what I’m saying, ‘Umar? House is big enough for the both of us if you’d just calm your tits for a second. Yeah, Iesounkouda’s decision might not make sense to you, but hey, he should feel safe to explore that for himself. Who knows, maybe even he will end up a Sunni fundamentalist like you. God’ll be fine. We just gotta stop indoctrinating each other before our lack of religious literacy gets us all killed. 

Now, for those who are worried my baptism isn’t salvific…

(I mean, I’m barely a Muslim, by some accounts, much less an Orthodox Christian)

I consulted with that one Catholic who works at Eegee’s. I told him how the baptism went and he said “Very Protestant, but sounds Trinitarian enough to me” to which I said “ugh, I taught him the opposite of tawhid. Musta done it right.”

Eegee’s Catholic: “OH BOO HOO, GET OVER IT”

So I think it worked…? Eh, Jesus’ll figure it out.

I hope a Biblical Unitarian somewhere sees this and is like “yo preach! Everybody, Jesus is just a man! You’ve all been fooled!”

Yeah, I know you think we’re both going to Hell, ‘Umar. Let God handle it, he’ll be fine. 

[artlessictoan]

If you still take requests, I would like to request yodochou

and it’s only fitting to end on my most beloved rarepair ofall! sorry it took me a few days to get to this, but it’s cute and fun and i kinda wanna turn it into a full fic now.. so hopefully it’s worth the wait!

(requests now closed)

—

Music thudded through the walls, thick and heavy and dark –just how she liked it – she could practically hear the jittering screech of athousand plastic cases shuddering against metal shelves. Normally, she would’vetaken this opportunity to rock out, headbanging until she felt dizzy andscreaming along with the lyrics at the top of her voice… unfortunately, shestill had a job to do; there wasn’t enough space in here anyways.

She settled for nodding along and tapping her foot, singingunder her breath as she focused on organising some new stock instead.

“Oh! Yeah we’re gettin’ wise and you push much further we’regonna fucking rise, tear down your constitution ‘cause we’re done withsubjugation, better count your days ‘cause they… ‘re…. huh?” Trailing offawkwardly when the music came to an abrupt halt, she glanced around until shefound the source.

Sarada was glaring darkly behind her glasses, hand still onthe sound system’s power button. “Fucking hell Yodo, would it kill you to turnit down?”

Rolling her eyes, she went back to sticking CDs intoalphabetical order, shouting over her shoulder, “What? No one’s here, I’mdrawing customers in.”

“By deafening them the second they enter the door?”

She puffed her cheeks up, putting away the last album beforejogging over and jumping onto the counter, glancing down at her co-worker. “Anyoneput off by loud music isn’t a truemetalhead, we don’t need people like that shopping here.”

Dark eyes narrowed at her, before she scoffed, “Tell that tothe ledgers.”

“Well you got any better ideas?” she asked, picking at thechipping paint on her nails, idly wondering what colour she should go for next– midnight black, jet black, or maybe void black?

“Actually yes-” aheavy thump jolted the table top beneath her, as Sarada dropped a thick pile ofpaper down, “-here, go stand outside and pass these out, do try not to look so sour, we want peopleto actually come to this thing.”

Frowning, she peeled away the top flyer and examined it; apparentlythe store was hosting a gig featuring local metal bands so small-time even Yodohad never heard of them – and she liked to keep her ear to the ground when itcame to music. “Since when were we doing this? And what the fuck’s with thesebands, Six Paths of Pain? Bloody Mist? BubblegumBang?”

“Since last month, I told you about it when I got the ideaand you said, and I quote, ‘sure whatever,’ maybe if you’d actually paidattention and helped out we might’ve landed some-”

“Ok, ok, fine,” she said, leaping to the floor and grabbingthe stack of paper, “but we’re playing too, right? Gotta get some talent up there, actually it’sprobably best it’s a bunch of nobodies playing, wouldn’t wanna embarrass anactually good band by upstaging them so bad.”

Sarada snorted, flashing that nasty grin of hers. “Obviously.We’re gonna wreck ‘em all!”

Cackling and slapping her hand against her friend’s outstretchedone, Yodo trudged out onto the street, her smile instantly dropped into a glarethe second the bright sun hit her eyes though.

This part of town wasn’t particularly busy, never had been,which meant that she didn’t actually have many people to grumpily pass flyersto, but that was kind of the problem; it was hard enough for a specialist musicstore to get off the ground in the first place, let alone one in such a quietarea, especially when…

Fuck, there shewas.

Yodo and Sarada’s little start-up wasn’t the only music shopon the street, just three shops down there was another one, one with a muchbroader and more mainstream stock than their rock, punk and metal, which ofcourse made them way more popular with customers and a thorn in Yodo and Sarada’scollective sides.

And it was run by the most beautiful woman she’d ever laideyes on, who was right now standing on the street, cheerfully calling out to passers-byand waving bright flyers in their faces until they relented and accepted one.

She was looking gorgeous, as usual, long, copper hairflowing free over her shoulders, beautiful curves concealed by baggy dungarees,though tantalising glimpses of the tight crop-top she wore underneath weredefinitely making her mouth a little dry and, worst of all, her full lips –painted that deep plum colour that she loved – were wrapped around a goddamned lollipop, each subtle shift and fleetingglimpse of tongue successfully driving Yodo further and further into madness.

Her arch rival, in both business and music taste, and shewas completely smitten.

If Sarada didn’t have a banshee’s screech loud enough tomake her shudder just thinking about it, she would have immediately marchedback inside to hide under the counter until she’d regained control of herheartbeat, however, since she did, Yodo decided to just walk behind the helpfulblock of greenery in the middle of the footpath and hope for the best.

Apparently her mood was still showing on her face though, judgingby the way that people flinched and rather pointedly started jogging in the otherdirection the second she so much as glanced their way.

Why did Sarada think it was a god idea to send her out to promote their shop anyway?

After another minute of failing to even draw someone closeenough to throw a slip of paper at them, she gave up with a groan and sat downon the short brick wall, leaning back into a thick bush, ignoring the twigsstabbing at the back of her head.

Maybe she’d be better off just taping the flyers to lamppostsinstead, or just calling up her friends – though Sarada had probably alreadydone that, they ran in the same circles after all – hell, maybe if she justchucked a load out of a high window people might get curious and pick some up,actually, that wasn’t a bad idea, surely it couldn’t be that illegal, besides her dad could always-

“Hey girl, I thought I saw you just now!”

Blinking rapidly, mind still half focused on advertisements,Yodo turned to glare at whoever had disrupted her thought process.

The speed at which blood rushed to her cheeks probably brokethe sound barrier.

“You stuck with flyer duty too?” the beautiful woman asked,flopping down next to her. “Super sucks, doesn’t it?” Her eyes – amber, theyjust had to be contacts, surely –were sparkling in the midday sun and she had a huge smile aimed right at her.

“Uh-huh…”

If she was bothered by the utter lack of response, she didn’tshow it. “Not as if people actually look at shit some stranger throws at themon the street, might as well just stand out here with a megaphone, it’d atleast be cheaper.”

“Mmm…”

“So, what’s happening at your place anyways?” she asked, questionnot even fully out her mouth before she leaned across Yodo to snatch a handful ofpapers.

Slightly panicking, Yodo stumbled for some words that wouldmake the gig seem less lame than it looked. “Oh, uh, just a gig to… promotelocal rock bands, an’ stuff… y’know, helping small groups get out there a lil, nothingbig.”

The woman was clearly trying to stifle a laugh as she readthrough some of the band names. “BubblegumBang? That’s a joke, right?”

“I fuckin’ wish,” she groaned, “never even heard of ‘embefore I saw the flyers today.”

Her laughter was warm and husky and sounded like moltencaramel; Yodo couldn’t help shuddering slightly. “Well, this Jinchuriki Stompgroup sounds pretty cool at least.”

Great, as if her cheeks couldn’t get any redder. “Actually…that’s my band.”

Steadfastly refusing to look her companion in the eyes, Yodoglowered at the man walking by in his sharp, neat suit instead – his purposefulsteps faltered for a moment, before he scurried off down the road, head downand walk uneven – idly picking at her nail polish again and just waiting forthe inevitable snickering to start.

“No fucking way-” here it comes, “-that’s so cool! What sortof music do you play? What do you play, no, wait lemme guess, bass? Ooh, do yousing too? I bet you’ve got a gorgeous voice.”

Unable to get a word in edgeways, Yodo just nodded along,admiring the way her lipstick shimmered and wondering if the taste of whateverflavoured lollipop she’d been sucking earlier was imprinted on them – was it raspberry?Yodo dearly hoped it was.

“Well,” the woman finally took a breath as she handed backthe flyers she’d stolen, though not before keeping one back for herself and carefullyfolding it to fit in her pocket. When she stood up to leave, she gave Yodo awink and a smile, calling a cheerful, “Guess I know what I’m doing Fridaynight!” over her shoulder as she walked away, disappearing in a flash of copperand gold.

When Sarada finally came out to find her co-worker, brightblue paper was strewn across half the street and Yodo had long since lost touchwith the world around her.

—

[prettipeterparker]

Bubble Bath Babble - Shawn Mendes imagine

brought to you by bel. just a lil something something where shawn comes home from the studio cranky so you run a bath and yeaahhhhh. lemme know what sort of things you guys wanna read. request anything. bel x

warnings; nah

pairing; shawn x reader

word count; 535 words

Work. Work meant stress. Shawn had been at the studio a fair bit lately, trying to bang out a new album before July came around. I loved his work don’t get me wrong, but lately he had been cranky and slightly distant with me, which of course worried me. 

I was standing around in our shared kitchen, cooking myself up some noodles due to not eating all day and blasting some of Shawn’s tunes when my phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. I danced over to my phone, swaying my hips as I hummed to my favourite song Honest. 

A frown took over my face as my eyes scanned over the messaged that lit up my screen. 

from; shawn the sheep

shit day at the studio, cuddles and food when i get home?

I let a small smile take over my face, before I remembered that I had noodles cooking on the stove. I quickly finished cooking them, taking them upstairs to the bathroom.

Shawn was always working so hard, he needed to relax, loosen up. 

I set my hot noodles down on the sink counter, reaching across the bath tub to twist the nobs on. I let the water run, plugging the drain at the perfect temperature. I sang quietly to myself as I waited for the water to rise a little bit before I added in a little bit of bubble bath liquid. 

I searched through the cabinets under the sink for some scented candles, pulling them out and scattering them around the outside of the tub and on the window sill.

As I lit them I heard the door slam and a bag dropping against the wooden floor boards. I squealed to myself, brushing my hair behind my ear.

“Babe, where are you?” He called out from downstairs.

“Bathroom!”

I sat on the edge of the tub, waiting for him as his footsteps began to get louder as he neared me.

“Surprise!” I smiled, looking up at him before hopping up from my seat and walking over to him to embrace him in a hug.

“I just figured since you’ve been so stressed lately that you might like to take a bath together?” I suggested, kissing his cheek softly.

“You’re so thoughtful, I love it.” He whispered, leaning down to place a soft kiss to my lips.

We both grinned before stripping down to nothing and sliding into the bath.

With his stomach pressed against my back and Shawn playing with my fingers, we sat in a comfortable silence.

“Writing is so stressful.” He whispered, a small sigh leaving his lips.

I pouted, leaning my head back against his shoulder.

“I just feel so much pressure to get this album out before a certain time so that my fans don’t lose interest in me.” He continued.

I turned my head to look at him, frowning.

“Baby, I’m sure that no matter what your album is going to be amazing. And true fans will always still around, no matter how long it takes you to release a new album, so don’t rush yourself.” I whispered, leaning up to kiss his cheek again.

“Thankyou baby. I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you more.”

[banginhosbitxh]

Reunion and Rejoice (1D imagine)

Requested by SrushtiSri12 my new-found Directioner friend! Hope you like it!_________________________________________ It was far from midnight, and I was crying my eyes out. After all, my so-called 'bestie' had just dumped me that afternoon. I sat there in The Crimson Cafe, my hideout, with a gaping hole in my empty heart. This feeling was the worst! I had no idea how to deal with a freshly-shattering break-up.... So I just did what I always do when I am too happy or too sad: plug in earphones - music player - One Direction Playlist! My support system, my idols, my reason for happiness, my life, all of my existence summed up in two words : ONE DIRECTION_________________________ "Where do broken hearts go?" When Zayn said that, I just burst out crying... "Shadows come with the pain that you're running from..." Oh, Harry... I listened to a few ten more of their songs and simultaneously deleted the album titled "Bae and Me :)" from my gallery. Then, I stared at the wallpaper of Zayn winking at me, and smiled. He's always there for me. They're always there for me. My boys. Five, no wait, four. Zayn, why??! ___________________________________________ My sister called, "Srushti, are you coming home or not? Ma's waiting for you for dinner. Please come quick, she's furious!" Before I could reply, she cut the call. Ma was worried. I had to go home. So I got up and drove home. It was a deserted road, just like my heart was. I reached home at 12 and Ma gave me a lecture about being home early. Then I ate half of my food half-heartedly and went to my bedroom. I listened to a few more 1D tracks and wept, Ma and Sissy banging the door, worried. I shouted, "Leave me alone! I am sleepy!" ___________________****____________________ I woke up from my painful and incomplete sleep, and felt like the wounds were still fresh. I ignored the pangs of pain and got ready for my college. In case you don't know, I study Arts and Literature at the Emerald Farms School in London. I have no idea what I was gonna tell my mother about last night's bad behavior, so I just decided to avoid talking to her. I got to the breakfast table, had a few bread slices with peanut butter and was sipping some coffee when my mother asked me, " Break-up? I know, no fault of yours.... He was crap, blah-blah, right? Honestly, you don't have to justify. I checked your phone. And you know what dear? He doesn't suit you! That bloke was garbage! Gimme a hug, and we'll settle this?" She spread her arms and I ran into them. This was the best feeling! Ma understood me better than I did. All mothers do. She patted my hair and let me go. I bid her goodbye and said the same to my sister. Another day at school! Phew. This was gonna be hectic! I reached school and went into the locker room. There was an air of excitement all around, and I had no clue why. All I had to learn was how to ignore him and move on. So, I moved out of the happy locker room with my books and headed to class. Just then, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Bugger alert! It was Roger, the stinking-rich school bully, whose hobby and sole aim in life was to hit as many boys and tease as many girls as possible. He made that wicked crooked smiling face at me, and I knew what was coming. He said, "Movie tonight, babe? You seem too poor to afford your own tickets.... Umm, lemme see... Ah! You just got dumped right? Who was that?" He looked around and found that bloke near the Debate Club Room. He called out, " Hey you! Loser! You left her, that's bad for you, but good for me, cuz now I can have her!" He lifted his arms to touch me, but that bloke didn't even look like he knew I was here! Angry with him and Rascal Roger, I kicked his stomach which made him fall back. The anger pulsated and turned me into a savage monster, as I hit and kicked him, spat at him, punched him and used my limbs to madly injure him. Just then, I heard someone clapping from afar. As I overcame the urge to keep hitting, a warm touch spread through my back. I turned to see who it was, and almost died with the Shock! It was.... It was.... It was.... Zayn. Javadd. Malik! Zayn! Zayn? Zayn....... Really? Was I awake? He stood there smiling at me, and I was feeling so attacked. He nudged my shoulder and I came alive! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ___________________________________________ He said, "Whoa!!! Easy, girl, easy! Great fighting there! But why you tryin to kill 'im? Yeah?!" I struggled to speak, I was breathless, panting and out of this mortal world. I felt like staring at his heavenly eyes for the rest of my existence, but I managed to say, "He tried to mis... misbeh-ave with me. That is why I... I hit him. Can I ask you some-um-some-thing?" He nodded, a twinkle I would die for alive in his eyes. I muttered, "Are you.. r..r...r-e-a-l? Is this real?" He cracked up laughing and I was brought to life a millionth time, by him that is. This had to be a dream. He said, "I am completely flesh and bones. You could see for yourself." He touched my hand and brushed it on his palm briefly. I felt sparks of excitement and mania tingle through my spine. This was real. He said, "Am I real now?" I nodded and he said, "I have a gig to do here. Please tell me where the auditorium is!" I said, "Can I please have.. Your.. Your...autograph?" He smiled, "Lead me there, and we can take a selfie, yeah?" I nodded so hard, that I cracked my neck. We walked a few steps and then he asked, "What's your name? I must say you hit pretty good!" I stammered, "Forgive me, Zayn. It's like a d..dream come true for me to see you so close up. I'n acting weird cuz I can't handle the feels! My name is Srushti... My neigbours call me Shush, you can call me anything you like." My hair flew into my face with the wind blowing hard on them. With a smile, Zayn plucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear! Aaarrgghhh! I am gonna die! I felt murmurs and stares around me, almost collapsing. The school was looking at us! Oh my! I blushed and we walked on. The Audi Room was already full and locked. The last time it had been decked up and filled was when HomeTown had performed at our school. I told Zayn that was the Audi. He thanked me so I sadly replied with a 'Goodbye' and turned to leave. Then, he freaking held my left wrist and said, " Come in with me! I wanna talk to you some more! Oh fish! I am gettin' nervous... I think I am gonna panic now.. These stage stows get to me so bad..." He let go of my wrist and I turned to face him. Unable to contain myself, I foolishly asked, "Can I get a hug?" He chuckled, "Yeah, sure! I think I need one too!" His touch and warmth instantly soothed me in a way that nothing could have. There was no one around. I hugged back smiling away the salty tears on my cheeks. This was simply the BEST feeling in the world. After what seemed like a minute, he withdrew from the hug and said, " C'mon! Let's get in! My manager'll be waitin' for meh!" I said, "What about the selfie?" He said, "After the show, okay love?" WHAT IN THE NAME OF HEAVEN'S PRETTY FACE WAS THAT?! 'Love'?!?!?!?! Oh my gosh! I nodded, bewildered. So this is what heaven feels like... Zayn used the doorknob to get to the backstage room, and we were literally BLOWN away by what we saw there! There were Paul Higgins, Lou Teasdale and Sandy Beales... Zayn's eyes widened. And then, we saw them. The one, the only, the best, the invincibly amazing ONE DIRECTION! ___________________________________________ I choked and gulped! I had no idea what in the name of Satan was going on in my life! I got paranoid and collapsed on the floor right away!! Shit! •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• Splash! A few violent drops of water woke me up. When I opened my eyes, Zayn, Niall, Harry, Liam and Louis were standing next to me, and I was lying on a sofa. Paul asked, "You okay, Miss?" I got up slowly and nodded. All the boys, all my boys, all FIVE of them, together! They were looking at me with worry. I smiled and said, " I am fine! No worries! Just got a sun stroke... uh.. Sorry..." At that precise moment, Niall burst out laughing. I straightened up. Niall's laugh gives me life. They all do. He said, "Sunstroke, eh? Fan attack, more like.." His Irish accent is heavenly. I smiled foolishly. Then, Zayn said, "Thank God you're okay, Shush! Now, all of you get out so I can get ready for my performance...! Malay?! Where you at, Bro?!" Louis said, with bloodshot eyes, "We're here to perform! Modest got us a gig here! So you get out!" Zayn retorted, "Still wagging tails for Modest, are we? I see, you haven't aged a bit since I left you guys!" Harry smiled and said, "Neither have you!" "And Louis, congrats on that freakingly adorable baby. Daddy duties, I reckon?", said Zayn with a playful smile. Louis hardened up, but his fake stiffness and anger soon ceased. Both Louis and Zayn simultaneously walked and hugged. Harry clapped, Liam laughed and Niall said, "Attaboy!" He hugged them individually and then turned to me. "Keep this private, will you? I don't want the fans to get wrong ideas." I nodded assertively and said, "Trust me!" They all sat down around me, with Liam and Louis sitting on chairs. Liam said to Zayn, "Nice hair, mate!" Zayn smiled and replied, "Nicer Girlfriend you got!" Liam blushed, and Louis said, "So you got into RCA records? How different is it from Modest?!" Zayn shifted uncomfortably and said, "Good, I guess. But they're different altogether. How's life been, lads?" Harry said, "My movie premiers on July 21, 2017. Louis' son's gonna turn one." Niall said, "My new album's out next year! Have you heard This Town yet?" Zayn nodded and said, "Great vibes, bud! Cool!" They all looked at me and smiled. "Lucky fan! Gets to see us bond again. We had to meet, sooner or later, in the Irish Court... Well, this is fine though.." Harry bit his lip after saying this and Louis agreed. "How's your book coming, Malik?" Zayn flexed his eyebrows and smirked, "Malik!? You've changed!" "So have you. Master of all wisdom...huh!" Zayn laughed and I did too. My heart was somewhere in between melting and exploding. I blurted out, "Zayn, tell them about your anxiety attacks, please" I immediately regretted saying so. Zayn frowned at me. I knew I'd hurt his ego infront of his ex-bandmates but I just couldn't resist. He said to Liam, "I've been having panic issues lately... Can't get used to performin' alone, I guess. I can manage though...." Louis snorted, "Who chose to be solo? Whose fault was it? Stop cribbing for what you've already done and move ahead." Niall clicked his tongue in sympathy and said to Zayn, "Any help, we're here for ya mate!" Harry nodded but Louis held a strict face. "I am not. He's no one to me. Wounds don't heal so well for me." Zayn said, "We're not the same anymore. We're all grown up and rich. So I don't expect you to support me. But just stop with the 'wounds' and stuff! You know I have my own opinion!" I stared at them all, and detecting an upcoming fight, I said "I love you all as you are! You guys are my life! I am one of the millions of fans out there who live for you, love you and cry for you. We're all a family. We've got a whole lotta history, remember? We cried, laughed, danced, sang and smiled with you! You five, I repeat, FIVE, are legends together! Please boys! Please! For heavens' sake, please regroup! Please come back!!! The fandom needs you! I need you! We all need you! Please Zayn! Please Niall! Please Harry! Please Liam! Please Louis! I know you may think I am crazy, but please listen to me. I don't care what people say when you're together! I just want you five back! Please Zayn!" I took a breath and choked. Tears escaped and I coughed, stammering and breathing with difficulty. This was it! I couldn't do more! Zayn got closer to me on the sofa and rubbed my back, soothing and setting my soul on fire. The others all took turns to hug me, pat my back and smiled at me. After I had calmed down, Liam said, "I don't know if I should say this, but we miss you too, Zayn. We may act like we don't give a damn, but we need you too. I know you complete us. We were meant to be together. Shush has a point." Louis smiled and added, "Agreed. Your anxiety issues are cuz you haven't got us there. If we could just get back, it would make the fans alive and proud. What say, Haz?" "Yeah. If one fan can nearly cry her eyes out just to talk to us as a five-piece, imagine what all the other fans could do to see us together again. True. Zayn?" Zayn stood silently, thinking and listening hard. Niall put his arm around Zayn's shoulder and shook him, saying "We need you, mate!" Zayn looked down, smiled to the ground and said, "Alright! I'm calling Simon to tell him I am coming back!" I shrieked with joy and jumped on the sofa. Paul, who was keenly watching all this, clapped and said, "We've got our DJ Malik back!" All the staff members and musicians rejoiced, while the boys did a group hug. Just then, our Principal came there and asked, "What's happening here? Aren't you gonna start the show, boys? Oh Mr. Malik, I am sorry but we forgot to notify you about the postponement of your concert to next week. I regret the inconvenience, truly." Zayn smiled and replied, "I'm rejoining the band. So we might as well play together. Come on, boys! Let's smash it!" My jaws hurt with the longest and widest smile I'd ever forced them to make. Tears flushing and cheeks blushing, I cleared my throat, "Boys, could I get a selfie?" They all readily aligned themselves to the camera and we clicked a hundred pictures. Candid ones too. Then, Liam said to Zayn, "Ready to Run, mate?" Together they stood in a circle, as always, and did their famous pre-concert cheer-up-clap, "3...2...1... We push!" I said along with them. ___________________________________________ My dream had come true! For all I knew, my life could not have got better! 🎵I'll be coming, back for you, back for you, back for you🎵 🎶🎶🎶1D🎶🎶🎶 I hope you enjoyed it, Shush! If you did, then don't forget to vote, comment and share! I shall await more requests! Until then, Love you, Goodbye!

[spiceukonline]

J Hus Common Sense Review

J Hus Common Sense Review

Originality

Production

Tracks

Lyrics

Impact

2017-06-01

4.2/FIVE

Favourite song

SPIRIT ( track 12)

Favourite lyric

  ‘ bill a zoot and build an empire ‘

In one word

 UNCOMMON

Best way to listen 

ANYWHERE any EVERYWHERE !

From block popper to show stopper, East London’s J HUS, flies the flag for the UK with COMMON SENSE! 

Arguably one of the best UK artist who oozes with talent and versatility. Recently being approved the ‘ a-okay’ sign for a London show, J HUS has come a long way.

Growing up on African hall parties, grime and being heavy influenced by US rap , J Hus also blames his unpredictable music style on the fact that he is a Gemini.

Changes in vibe and mood happen as often and as frequently as he switches his flow. His capability to move through genres, flows and melodies, and catchy hooks, separates his music from the rest.

From ‘Dem Boy Paigon’, ‘Lean and Bop’, ‘Friendly’ and ‘Did You See’ J Hus definitely knows how to make a banger. He creates music to which change atmosphere in house parties, university raves and nightclubs.

Takes risks with different genres, beats and styles J Hus manages to stay true to himself describing Common Sense as growth in maturity. With live instruments and music with a meaning, his aim to create a sound sound is solid.

Throughout the tracks you are greeted with the ‘JAE 5’ jingle. From the 15th day Mixtape to the Playing Sport Ep, Common Sense is the perfect example of the growth, trust and risks the dynamic duo take within studio walls.

The general flow of the album doesn’t tell a cohesive story however, throughout the tracks, there is definitely different messages to take away.

We see different sides of Hus. Closed Doors (track 4) shows us the X-Rated ladies man with while tracks like Clartin and Good Luck Chale show he can still look after himself.

 Track by Track Review

Common Sense

The album kicks start with the title track. Live instruments orchestrated by @compozers  adds to the grand image as J Hus welcomes us into his lifestyle. His money, the girls, the cars and the clothes. A day in the life of Hustler baby!

Bouff Daddy

Emphasing that he is the man. He goes into detail about spending money (Bouff means money btw).  ‘Now I hate the attention, no lemme be honest, I love it, spend yesterday’s profit and think nothing of it’. The beat and flow is smooth and catchy with punch lines adding to the feeling-myself-anthem.

Clartin

A wild beat with a lot of different sounds going on, adding adrenaline to the song. The production playful Hus flow is a great start of the album

Leave Me

His Gemini persona is displayed. ‘Still put this n**ger in a body bag, still help his mum with her shopping bag’. The catchy flow and relaxed beat helps us focus on the lyrics, hearing what J Hus is actually trying to say.

Closed Door

X –rated thoughts and sexual innuendos make this song. We are taken behind closed doors for the J Hus. ‘Whatever, happens in here, stays in here, I know you want it as much as I do!’. In a recent interview he joked about himself becoming a sex symbol, think I see the potential with this jazzy soul vibe.

Mash up

The J Hus and Mo Stack collaborations feel very natural, something I’m definitely not going to get bored of. Choppy beat keeps you on your toes as the two bounce back from each other as the after each 8. Definitely mash up, with extra flavour and a dash of salt!

Did You See

The single of the album which was released prior and set the bar for the album. I like to call this friendly part 2. J Hus shows us that making a banging is part of his DNA. His playful lyrics and ability to switch his flow is what makes him, him.

Like Your Style

The song for the ladies, about the ladies, so I guess everyone can relate.

Plottin

The old skool garage vibe is Hus’s favourite from the album. “Don’t think I’m shy cause I’m quiet, I’m just plottin I’m plottin”. The song definitely shows how he can switch up his style and his risk taking musical ability.

Sweet Cheeks

Another one for the ladies! This one isn’t about the money or the street life, but how apart from all of that he can be a sweet boy , when he needs to be. “I told my n**ger put  your balaclava, won’t you much rather f**k with a girl from Upminster”. This Jae 5 production is playful and creates a sweet vibe! 

Fisherman

The first song with features and it is popping! J Hus on the hook with Mist and Mo stack on the verses. Most definitely for the ladies, this song plays on the idea that there is ‘plenty fish in the sea’. Nice one lads!

Good Time

Good Time | J Hus x Burna Boy On his album wait on it ! @Jhus ! 🚀

— Burna Boy (@burnaboy) May 11, 2017

Featuring afrobeats artist Burna Boy this collaboration shows how J Hus can fluidly move though genres and create something original. Still staying true to J Hus but giving you something new everytime. This is definitely a feel good song.

Spirit

This track is all about being positivity! A dancehall influenced beat with some of the patois lyrics. “They can tek weh my freedom how they gon’ tek way my spirit”. This is a roll-your- car-windows-down-feel-the-vibe-and-share-the-love kind of riddim and I here for all 3 mintues 34 seconds of it!

Goodies

Ever heard of the phrase ‘don’t shoot the messenger?’ Yeah definitely goes out the window as we welcome back-street-smart Hus. It starts with a skit of the typical conversation he has with people, with the additions of appropriate sound effects imbedded with his lyrics. The head bopping beat keeps us on edge throughout the track as the iconic duo reunite again to make this epic piece.

Good Luck Chale

“Heard they want me dead, heard they want my bread, good luck chale”. ‘Chale’ is Ga (ghanian dilect) for ‘friend’.

With Tiggs Da Author on the hook, the verses are left for Hus to speak his mind and thoughts aloud. And he is pretty much saying:  if want to see me fall Good Luck Mate’! It the Anti haters Anthem!

  Who You Are

This slow and smooth vibe again is a reflective piece. Opening up his thoughts to his audience about his upbringing.

Friendly

J Hus confesses this song was created for his little brother after his mum requested he made something a “little more appropriate”. No doubt this song is everyone and anyone. It also shows the growth and diversity of J Hus music.

“BILL Zoot and build an empire”

Probably one the most catchy lines throughout the album. J Hus is well on his way to building his empire. From billboard posters and a tour just before the release of ‘common sense’ Hus, leaves no room for imagination from what to expect from his European tour in November .

Get Tickets for #CommonSenseTour Here

[close-to-the-edge12]

Often times when mum or I’ve screwed up and let something inedible (for her incredibly sensitive digestive system) wind up in Rachel’s stomach, she requires midnight showers. Maybe even three o’clock in the morning, if I haven’t noticed earlier. When that time comes, I like to step in and spare her the night of sleeping in a dirty diaper and completely horrible attitude in the morning. 

(Hint, she doesn’t actually sleep. Just continues on loudly and horribly until someone checks in to see what’s wrong.)

Somewhere along the way, we started developing a little game. The game is uncreatively named ‘Wake Up Mum’

But we don’t try and do it in the normal way, you see. We like to be as weird and as much of a nuisance as possible when times call for an adult. Unfortunately, none of the attempts so far have worked. 

When she’s actually sleeping at night, she’s down and out for the count. Sorta like a boulder. Just a very comfortable, snoring boulder currently off in hallucination land on her sleeping mat.

Tonight’s game started around one something. And so far, this has been what we’ve done.

-Loudly proclaiming how horrible the stench is with a twisted sneer and tones of displeasure.

-My sister whining grumpily at me because I took too long undoing her pyjama’s, casting knowing looks to the general direction of mum’s door. She knew that we were going to play the game again, and wasn’t hesitant to join in.

-Her squawking loudly because she jumped right in, cold water and all, and apparently didn’t expect it to be cold.

-Loud, happy buzzing from said sister that could probably wake the neighbours if we’d left the back door or a window open.

-Two songs from Let The Ocean Take Me by The Amity Affliction. ‘Cause she hates that band. If there’s anything that can wake her up, it’s my ‘devil music’. Predictably, nothing happened, and we were left very disappointed.

-A loud, incredibly obnoxious drum solo on the hall walls while shouting ‘give me a beat’. She didn’t give me a beat.

-Snapping at the cats to ‘shut the hell up’ when they give me weird looks for loudly (and overdramatically) gagging when I went to bin the other rubbish in the bathroom. (Hey, may as well. Spares everyone the task of running around like headless chickens in the bathroom during a Sunday clean. Lemme tell ya something; females? We ain’t neat.)

-Chasing after the cats five minutes later while starting to play the entirety of Bad Omen’s self-titled album, because they stole a bit of her pyjama’s and I needed it back.

-Chatting none too quietly in a one-sided conversation with Puppin. Puppin was disapproving, but she looked curious about if mum’d wake up or not, so she didn’t heard me back to the bathroom or anything. (Also, fuck you, Grammar correcter. Puppin’s name is valid. Stop trying to change it.)

-Standing, staring. Waiting for her to wake up and notice me just creeping Edward Cullen style at the side of her bed. I mean, people generally wake up to that shit, right? 

-Wandering up the hallway with hands and back hunched into optimum velociraptor position.

-Raiding the kitchen without turning on the lights and stubbing my toe on Puppin’s water bowl. Keep in mind that it’s metal. It hurt, god fluff it!

-Kicking up a hissy when sister managed to smear shampoo on my shirt. I have to wear this horrible thing again tomorrow when helping in the Sunday clean, no matter how inconveniencing it is. Plus, I’m a little short on everything right now, and it just takes so long for everything to line dry in the laundry.

-Standing in mum’s doorway and arguing with her about who has to wake her up. The options were either me, or she could wander in and poke her until she got up. Puppin did go in, but only to hesitate half-way because mum can be a truly terrifying creature when she’s tired, and decided to jump up on her chair. Her chair squeaks a lot and tends to bang on a couple of spare tv’s we keep tucked away beside it, which also helps to prove how much of a heavy sleeper mum can be.

-Singing horribly in the bathroom. Keep in mind that I sound like a frog screeching in unholy agony with a throat infection on a good day. Today was a bad day for my singing ‘skills’. 

-Debating internally whether or not I should flick the light on. That gets an instant reaction, most days, but I decided against it. It was too easy and a lot less fun.

-Thumping up the hall Exorcist style. You know, that girl where the little girl gets possessed by Lucifer or something? Thumbs down, by the way. It’s more of a comedy than anything else. 

-Playing another drum solo on the wall, but this time in the bathroom.

-Nearly falling over in the bathroom because my stupid self hasn’t registered that my sense of balance is almost always worsened by slippery surfaces

-The kittens joining in by bounding around like they’ve been possessed by Lucifer and Gabriel from Supernatural. I’ve always liked to imagine that if they possessed cats, both of them would be little shits. Hence why I call them that when they’re hyper.

-Cursing and announcing that she’s a sentient rock at her bedside, then running out of there at full-sprint because the smell of Deep Heat was burning my eyes and causing me to need to sneeze.

-Started playing some Silent Theory songs on my tablet, which goes a hell of a lot louder than my phone.

And then, finally, giving the fuck up.

Nothing can wake her up, short of a decent earthquake. (Probably not even then, because she has, in fact, slept through one before. So have I, come to think of it. It becomes less alarming and more like a mild inconvenience after a while.)

And yeah, before you go about calling my sister and I horrible children, we’re aware that this probably isn’t the best method to go about entertaining ourselves in a time where either of us would rather be asleep. But let’s face it, mum can be one temperamental beast if she wants to be during the day, and I’m still a bit pissed off that she kept snapping at me, becoming more enraged if I asked what the hell I did, and refused to tell me.

I know, I know. Stupid. But I tend to take reprimands or insults close to home, and I’d rather like to know just what I did wrong so I could try and correct it in the future. Also, I’m just a bitter person at heart. Don’t judge.

And we know she isn’t going to wake up. Past experience has taught both of us that unless I turn on the light, bellow like a moron and jump on her bed, then chances are she’s going to continue sleeping, oblivious to the world.

*Now taking requests to do stupid shit in the middle of the night that won’t actually wake her up, but will entertain my sister and me when we wind up in another situation like this. I’m thinking about stacking objects on her, but that might be a little too effective in awakening it for my tastes.