#uploaded on ao3 too

[justab00knerd]

𝓦𝓱𝔂 𝓜𝓮?

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ Chapter One: Where the Heck Am I?!?!?⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Yuri 23:11:

Come on stop being a killjoy, it’s the weekend y/n!! We should hang out and go to a party or something!

You 23:12:

Not today Yuri! I want to finish my homework and then take a well deserved rest aka im passing out after this.

Mina 23:12:

At least watch Hunter x Hunter so we can talk about it. Please~

You 23:13:

No way! You already talked about it to me more than enough times, not only that you insist that this Hisoka guy is supposed to be hot like please he’s A CLOWN! FYI I searched up his picture, and what do you even see in him????

Mina 23:13:

Oh come on y/n dont be like that! Hisoka is so fuckin’ hot and omg you have to see him in the greed island arc!!! Like OMGGGGG

Yuri 23:15:

Oh shut up Mina! Hisoka is SOOOO much more handsome in the York New arc!

You 23:17:

NONONONONO BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!!!!! I am NOT watching that stupid cartoon show! Im tired I have other things to do and i dont need to listen to both of you rave about how “hot” this Hisoka person is. BC NEWSFLASH HE ISNT

You 23:18:

Anyways just finished my last homework, so if you don’t mind imma pass out now I have a long day tmr so if you text just know im ignoring y’all >:(

I let out a sigh as I let my phone drop out to the desk. A sharp pain pierced my head. An audible groan left my mouth. 

Well, I suppose if I’m going to go to sleep, I might as well do it in bed.

Planting my hands on the top of my desk, I push myself into a standing position. Before moving away, I slightly stretch out my back, hearing a small crack here and there I let out another sigh before moving. At least I tried to, the moment I stood a sharp pain hit me like a wave. Black dots danced my vision as a groan involuntarily ripped itself out of my throat. A step. A step was all it took for my vision to go black and I fell to the floor with a loud thud.

⋆༺𓆩🗡𓆪༻⋆

A throbbing ache woke me from my slumber. Unlike before it didn’t come from my head, but more so lower down my body. 

Damn it, why is my lower back killin’ me?

A bright light made up the majority of my vision. Causing me to squint for more than I care for. I found myself in an unfamiliar room, in unfamiliar clothes, and with an unfamiliar bag. As I let out a yelp as I look down at myself. 

“Okay, this isn’t funny. Who the hell changed my clothes?!? ANd where the heck am I?!?!?” I was met with silence. Utter silence. Letting out an exasperated sigh, I looked through the messenger bag that laid by my side. Inside was some food, water, a first aid kit, and what looked like throwing knives. 

You know? Like the type of knives you would see ninjas use? Yeah, those were in my bag too. 

I picked one up for examination, and low and behold they were real. 

Maybe I could use this for darts or something?

I let out a snort at the thought. Before coming here, anytime I was free, me and my friends would go to this bar. The bar had this late night deal that if anyone who could hit the center of the darts board would get unlimited drinks on them. Unknowingly, I had an above average aim. My friends abused this power and always begged me to get them free drinks. 

I let out a sigh. Oh, how I wished that.

A small ding echoed in the room, before the walls opened up what looks to be a tunnel. As I spun towards the door, something hit the chair I once sat in. Looking down, I found a sheathed katana. With further inspection, I was able to come to the conclusion that it was a real life katana. Not like the wooden ones I had used at the dojo my grandparents ran, but like the real thing. I swing my bag around before clutching on to the katana like my life depended on it. If it was given to me then that would mean that I would need it.

I didn’t know where I was, or how the hell I even got there but I was sure of one thing. 

I was getting home. No matter what.

⋆༺𓆩🗡𓆪༻⋆

A shiver went down my spine as I entered the tunnel. Looking around, all I could find were hundreds upon hundreds of people. People who looked at me like fresh meat. 

”Hello miss. You are number 406. Please wear this badge on your chest at all times please.” I perk up looking around me to see who was speaking to me. Tilting my head down, I found a cute little bean shaped man in a lime green color.

Weird. But okay, I guess? 

I bow slightly as I take the badge with the number “406” written in bold. I mumble a quick ‘Thank you’ before pinning it to my jacket. A jacket that I was grateful for because if it weren’t for the jacket I was sure I would be dying of hypothermia by now.

“Hi there! You must be new here, I’m Tonpa!” I flinch at the new voice and spin around to find a stubby little man in a blue shirt. He was smiling at me in this welcoming way, but nothing about him seemed, well… welcoming. 

There was something off about him. Something that screamed at me not to trust him. It was like a gut feeling, ya’know? The type of feeling when you feel like you’re being watched and yet can’t find anyone looking at you. 

“H-hi?” I answer in a meek voice. 

“Want a drink? We can toast to our new friendship!” I take a big gulp. Alarms in my head screamed STRANGER DANGER. And who was I to ignore them? Especially when my gut feels have always been quite accurate. 

“No thank you.” I say curtly before quickly walking away from the man. Although, even that was short lived.

“Hi!” It was a high pitched voice, not enough to be a female’s but enough to be identified as a child’s. My head snaps towards the voice to find a young boy clad in green. Two others followed close behind him, a brunette that was tall and lanky and the other being a young blond that could be misidentified as a girl.

“He-hello there…” I say awkwardly. The boy in green had this big grin on his face. The one that could compare to the brightness of the sun. He couldn’t be older than my younger siblings who were 12. “M-may I help you?”

I was met with silence, and the child only continued grinning up at me with stars in his eyes.

“I’m sorry about him. He was intrigued by you walking away from Tonpa and his “peace offering” of a drink.” The blonde sighed. Relief filled my body. At least, I wasn’t the only one who got cornered by that Tonpa fellow. “I’m Kurapika and that’s” he pointed to the lanky one, “Leorio.” The man called Leorio then started yelling/complaining to Kurapika about not letting him introduce himself to a “beauty.” I couldn’t help but let a smile work its way to my lips as the scene reminds me of my friends and I when we were younger. 

“And I’m Gon!” Gon spoke up. He was still smiling and my own checks started to hurt at seeing him smile. Coming to the conclusion that these three were merely children; minus Lerorio but who knows he could be a child stuck in a man’s body( ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ), and are probably not out to kill me. I finally introduced myself.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m y/n.” I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to make a few friends. Especially in an unknown environment. You never know when you might need some people you can trust. “Is it your first time here too?” I ask, trying to not make it obvious that I had no clue where I was. 

“Yep! My dad took the Hunter’s Exam at my age so I wanted to do the same! Plus it allows you to travel basically anywhere.” He said in awe as he talked about his dad. He probably didn’t know him much from what I can tell as he goes on telling me stories of his dad. I felt… oh I don’t know, empathetic. 

When I was four years old, my parents dropped me off at my grandparent’s. They left me with nothing but the faintest of memories of them. No memorabilia. No jewelry. Nothing. The only memory I could vividly remember is when I was 10 years old ish, my parents came back to the dojo and I thought like a silly little child that they were back for me. Oh, but how wrong I was. They barely stayed an hour before leaving again. You know what they came back for? To drop off twin infants. Infants. Ever since then, I have hated them. I hated them for having me and my siblings. If they didn’t want to raise us then why have us in the first place? 

I listened to Gon talk about how he was able to participate in this “Hunter’s Exam” from going on about his Aunt Mito and Whale Island, which is named because it is the shape of the whale and not because there is an abundance of whales in the area, which I only knew because he made me guess the reason of its name. Gon then went on about how he met Kurapika and Leorio, in which Kurapika fully explained to me as he said “Gon’s exaggerating it, it’s more simple than that…” His words, not mine. 

“Ne, y/n how did you get to the Hunter’s Exam?” I froze at Gon’s question. What was I supposed to say? 

Uh, I don’t know? I just magically appeared in this elevator room thingy?

Yeah, hard pass.

I opened my mouth to make some sort of lame ass excuse but only a scream echoed in the tunnel.

[ash-and-starlight]

another late @zukki-week entry, for day 2 // skinny dipping

and as a special treat it comes with @erisenyo's fantastic fic And Babe, (What Do you Mean) We Ain't Even Dating that this scene is based on!!

[24-05txt]

In regards to the whole soul mate thing, Soap's been through all the phases.

He'd started curious, then confused, then mournful, then resentful. For now he's settled somewhere in the vicinity of apathy—maybe spite.

He doesn't have a soul-mark. Never has, never will, and that's... fine. He's far from the only one lacking that kind of connection, and that's enough for him to feel understood. Not alone. He's got plenty of good friends besides—with and without soulmates of their own—and he's happy that way. Really, he is; it took him a fair amount of work to get to a place where he could say that and it not be wishful thinking. He's got friends, family, dalliances, motion and company and light in his life despite the lack of a mark that tells him where his place is.

And then he meets Ghost.

The Lieutenant is huge in the sense that his presence alone takes up what space his height and muscle can't. He's quiet, too, at least before Soap makes the effort to worm his way under all that tacgear. (The man is intriguing, what can he say? Who else walks around with a honest-to-fuck skull mask day in and out.)

Ghost seems to tolerate him at first, then inexplicably starts to prickle and grouch whenever Soap comes within six feet of him. He could make up a few reasons for why that is, but instead contents himself with pretending he doesn't notice—pushing the implied boundary until Ghost mans up and tells him off.

He never does, though. And it's not long at all until Soap's found that the boundary has given way and Ghost is—well he's actually pretty pleasant to be around. He's funny, and patient, and gives way too much of a shit to be in a career that pretty much ensures the death of everyone he works with. (He likes to pretend he doesn't, but there's no other reason he would have been waiting up in that church for Soap—in fact he shouldn't have still been there at all, since he'd already scoped an escape route. The bastard's soft, is what he's saying.)

And that's when things start to backslide just a little.

They're sitting in the mess—only three of them, the Captain unable to grace them with his presence—and Gaz is talking about his sister's husband's new boyfriend being the result of a late-discovery soulmatch.

"Could you imagine," he says, pausing to chew his mouthful before he continues. "Going thirty years knowing there's someone out there for you, and not seeing them until after you're already married?"

"Could be platonic," Soap pointed out, not bothering with the same courtesy of chewing his food. Ghost kicks him under the table for it, but he honestly can't be asked to care for only three words worth.

"Could be, but still—could you imagine?"

"Nope." Soap pops the 'P' and grins. Ghost doesn't kick him this time since he hasn't taken another bite yet. "I'm a wee bit hopeless in that department."

"Ah, brother." Gaz reaches out and they clasp hands for a moment, then he nudges his shoulder. "You and me both. Never much got the fuss about it, but that does seem like some sort of cosmic irony yeah?"

"Issat irony?" Soap asks. "Don't think that's right."

Obviously, that incites a short argument that ends when Gaz pulls out his phone to look up the actual dictionary definition of 'irony', and Soap grasps to change the topic to literally anything else to avoid Gaz gloating on the off chance that he's right.

"Lt, what about you?"

Ghost blinks at him as if he hasn't been staring at the both of them through the whole conversation.

"I know what irony is, Johnny."

"No—" he can't help the scowl, and talks over Gaz's sudden jeering as he shoves his phone under his nose. Soap lifts his chin to avoid it. "You got a soul mark?"

"Read it and weep, Soap!" Gaz cheers, only slightly subdued in respect for every else in the room.

"I do." Ghost says at the same time, dipping his head in a tiny little nod, and Soap's world ends just a little bit, right there in the mess hall. Curls up, withers, and dies without so much as a squeal.

He's not able to ask if Ghost knows who it is, or if he's met them, or if they're still alive, or if it's romantic or platonic; he's not sure if it even matters, because Johhny knows right then that he will never be as close to Ghost as they are.

And it hurts.

It hurts in a way he wasn't entirely expecting.

He must hold it together well enough through the rest of dinner, and then through walking with Gaz back to their rooms, but once he's got the door locked behind him he feels the smile fall off his face. He sits down on the edge of his bed.

Ghost has a soulmate.

Ghost has a soulmate and Soap is pissed about it. Because that soulmate isn't him—it can't be, since he doesn't have a mark of his own.

It's just—it's unfair. They work so well together, on the field and off. He knows for a fact no one else can read Ghost as well as he can, no one else talks to him like he does, he doesn't hang around anyone else like he seems to hang around Soap. If anyone should be Ghost's soulmate, it should be him.

But he's not. Which means there's someone else out there that can watch his six better, understand him more, have more satisfying conversations—and it seems fucking impossible, because he doesn't even know how it could get better given the time they've known eachother... and yet.

And yet Ghost has a mark, and Soap doesn't.

It takes him days to get over it—at least enough to act himself when he's in company. Ghost tries to get him to talk about it three separate times before he can manage to get his shit together. He won't *lie* to Simon, nor is he about to admit to what's eating at him, and it leaves him snappish. Leaves the vitriol closer to the surface than it ever has been around Ghost and he hates to see how he reacts to it; he doesn't cower, doesn't flinch, doesn't avoid him, just stares—in a different way than before. John's temper will flare and Ghost will freeze a little, tilt his head, furrow his brow, and fucking stare at him until the moment passes. It might be better if he raised his voice in return, let it escalate into a proper fight—or even if he shut Soap down hard and told him to cool off. Instead Ghost looks at him like he's gone and become a stranger; like he's confused where he doesn't expect to be, and that hurts almost as much as finding out his place isn't next to Simon—or at least, he doesn't have any rightful claim to it.

[bigdumbbambieyes]

for @thissortofsorcery, who wanted more Billy with a belly button piercing (hehe) and inspired by @robthegoodfellow's amazing tags!!

nsfw

The first time he sees it, it's on accident, and he's not entire sure what he sees.

He's about six beers and two shots deep, so his eyes aren't really focusing as he catches a glimpse of Hargrove's stomach, perfectly toned because he's a fucking asshole, but the peek of silver around his belly button had caught Steve's wandering eye.

They're in Tommy's backyard with a dozen of other people he can't remember the names of, but Billy had invited him so he had gone, and Tommy had glared at him the entire night but also hadn't approached him because the guy clearly doesn't care enough. Which, admittedly, hurts Steve because they had been friends for forever, but not anymore.

But, it's whatever. Hargrove has taken a liking to him and Steve's not about to pass up on someone he can have decent conversations with - even if the guy irritates him to no end.

And, apparently, intrigues him.

Billy had raised his arms in a stretch once he stood up from his chair by the campfire, groaning out a soft sound as Steve had eyed him from above the rim of his cup, the beer catching in his throat as he saw the quick reflection of something shiny on Billy's belly button.

There was no way, right? He's seen plenty of girls with their belly buttons pierced. It was a girl piercing. No guy he's ever known has ever had one.

Until Billy, it seems.

And Steve, as he coughs up a lung and tries to soothe the burn with more beer, thinks back to the times where Billy wore his shirt unbuttoned almost down to his navel, and he'd never seen them before. He's met up with Billy after his shift at the pool, when he wore his cropped Everlast shirt, and there hadn't been anything there except a dark blond happy trail.

It has to be new. Recent.

"You good, princess?" Billy asks him suddenly, his brows furrowed.

His eyes watery from coughing, Steve nods and waves him off, watching the blond roll his eyes and go back inside for another drink.

There's no way, right? 🖤 It's been a week and Steve can't stop thinking about it.

He has to make sure he wasn't just seeing anything or else it'll eat him alive.

So, he calls up Billy that weekend, asking, "You wanna come over for a swim? Maybe some beers, too?"

"I worked at the pool all day, the last thing I want is to fuckin' swim, Harrington. How about we just have some beers? Maybe take them over to Heather's?" Billy offered cooly, like he wasn't ruining Steve's perfectly laid out plans.

Pursing his lips, Steve covered up his indignant huff by palming the bottom of his phone before transferring it to his other ear, saying, "Yeah, I suppose we could."

Because he was a sucker for Billy. He couldn't help it.

"I'll pick you up in twenty, be ready."

The line went dead and Steve huffed again.

🖤

A couple days later, he's finally got Billy at his house, but his parents are home. Not that they're going to ruin his plans or anything, but his parents actually enjoy Billy's company, so they ask him to stay for dinner and who is Billy to decline such a generous offer?

His dad's barbecuing in the back and he and Billy are chatting about something regarding sports while Steve helps his mom prepare the table. He had immediately noticed Billy's new shirt when the guy arrived, a soft light green t-shirt, tightly fitted - and if Steve could only get a damn glance at his stomach, he might be able to see the shape of it through the fabric.

It's almost comical how much stuff gets in the way: Billy's standing behind the barbecue, his dad is in front of him when they come in with food, his mother passes his father the salad bowl just as Billy goes to sit at the table.

He kinda wants to scream.

And again, Billy asks him, "Everything alright, Steve?" Because he's Steve in front of his parents.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he smiles tightly, their eyes locking for a moment, and there's something shining in Billy's blue eyes.

After dinner, when they've had their full and it's time for Billy to go, he watches the blond pat his stomach and keep his hand there as he stands, thanking the Harringtons for the meal.

Steve manages another tight smile as his parents tell Billy to come back soon.

🖤

A couple guys they know from school are playing basketball at the park when he and Billy drive by a couple days later, and Billy glances over at him with a grin, saying, "Wanna join them?"

Steve stares at him for a moment before flicking his gaze over to the guys on the court, noticing that they're shirts vs skins. And knowing Billy, he'll want to take off his shirt.

Oh, yeah. This will work.

"Sure," he hums, playing it cool.

They park and head over, standing on the sidelines until Patrick stops dribbling the ball and asks them, "You two come to join?"

"Yeah, thought maybe you'd want some actual competition, McKinney," Billy smirks, grinning when Jason gives him a glare for his smart mouth.

"Alright," Patrick nods with a smile, "Harrington, you're skins."

Steve feels his shoulders drop, and he glances at Billy, figuring he'd say something like 'nah, let's switch' but Billy just looks at him, quirking an expectant brow.

"You gonna strip or what, Harrington?" Billy asks with a leer.

Sighing, Steve rolls his eyes and pulls the bottom of his shirt over his head.

🖤

It's gotta be on purpose, right? Steve's suffering from some kind of karma that he doesn't deserve. How fucking hard is it to catch Billy Hargrove without a goddamn shirt?

He has Billy's aviators from the other day and he's on his way to Cherry Lane to return them, his thumb tapping his steering wheel as he replays the memory of that simple little lift of Billy's shirt that started all of this. It's honestly infuriating how unlucky he's been.

And he knows he could just ask, but there's no dignity in that. Billy would just tease him about it and never show it.

When he pulls up to the Hargrove house, Billy's outside mowing the lawn, in shorts and a white tank top. He's sweating a bit, his face so unfortunately attractively flushed. His lips go red whenever he's working out too hard and Steve can't help but to stare at them.

He shuts off his car and gets out, calling, "Billy!" over the sound of the mower.

Billy looks up, squinting in the sunlight, and shuts off the mower. He smiles at Steve, in that mean way he does, and shouts back, "Miss me so bad you had to come and track me down, Stevie?"

He's Stevie when Billy's teasing him, when they're alone.

Steve leans against his car and holds up the aviators, "Figured you'd want these back, asshole."

The smile that blooms on Billy's face is beautiful and he actually says, surprisingly without sarcasm, "You're a goddamn lifesaver."

But, it's not what he says that has Steve freezing in place - it's his hand, going down to the bottom of his shirt, like he's going to lift it to wipe away the little beads of sweat on his forehead, and Steve's breath catches in his throat.

Holy shit. Finally.

His stomach clenches in anticipation, his jaw dropping a little, until he hears a sudden familiar voice screech, "Billy!"

It's Max, on the front porch, with anger written across her face, and Billy's immediately turning to face her, his hand falling to his side, sweat forgotten.

Steve lets out a groan and rests his forehead on his car, closing his eyes as he half listens to the step siblings yelling at each other over something petty.

Goddammit.

He's really at his wit's end.

🖤

It's been two weeks and Steve finds himself at a party on a Friday night, at his wit's end about the whole stupid thing. He can't even talk to Robin about it.

Well, he could, but he doesn't really want to see the look on her face and the deadpanned 'you're such a dingus' she'd say to him.

He knows he's being a dingus, but it's not like he can stop.

What he can do, though, is shoot back some vodka with Carol like they used to in freshman year.

"What, no Billy tonight?" She hums, words just a touch slurred, and he gives her a shrug as he reaches for his half-drunk beer.

"Dunno where he's at," he replies, glancing around the busy room, "Assumed he'd be here."

"You two are, like, attached at the hip these days," she smirks, giving him a look, "What's the deal?"

"No deal," he shrugs again, feeling the vodka warm his belly, "He's just...nice to hang out with, I guess."

"Hm," she hums, giving his arm a pat, "Well, if you wanna know where he is, I saw him go down to the basement like, five minutes ago."

Steve's eyes widen and he immediately looks towards the door leading down to the basement of her house, which is cracked open a little.

He eyes it for a moment before asking, "He take a girl down there?"

"Nope," Carol shakes her head, "Probably went to get more beer, or something."

Maybe he should go check on him.

"Maybe you should go check on him."

He turns and looks down at her, eyeing the impish look on her face, and he doesn't know why it's there or why she's saying that, but he nods anyway.

"Yeah, 'kay," he slurs softly, pushing himself off the counter, his beer left behind there as he makes his way to the door.

The basement is cool, and dark, except for the warm glow of a lamp that he can spot at the bottom of the staircase. He pulls the door closed behind him without meaning to, and slowly descends, hearing the rustling of bottles in the fridge that he knows is down here. Carol's dad had the basement fully finished and furnished for his poker nights a couple years ago, and the fridge in the corner is always fully stocked.

He steps down onto the landing and sways, holding onto the railing as he watches Billy compare two bottles of beer, as if he really prefers either. The best beer is a free beer, and the only thing better than a free beer, is a cold one.

Steve breaks the silence first, saying, "You didn't tell me you'd be here."

Billy glances over at him, surprised, before he recognizes him and then he's smirking, "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd be here anyway, pretty boy."

He's pretty boy when they're alone and Billy's flirting.

Steve feels his face flush, from the alcohol (he tries to convince himself), and he quietly watches Billy put one of the bottles back in the fridge before bringing the other one to his mouth, opening it with his molars, and it makes Steve cringe every single time.

"You're gonna wreck your teeth doing that shit," he mutters, like he does every time.

Billy flicks the cap away with that smug smile still on his face, and like every time, he replies, "Haven't yet."

He watches Billy come over to him, to probably go back upstairs now that he's invaded Mr. Perkins' stash, but he can't help the way his eyes flick down Billy's body.

And his eyes stop at the bottom of Billy's Metallica shirt, which might've shrunk in the wash or something, because it's short than Steve remembers and that's when he sees it.

A shiny metal ball, just peeking out from under the dark fabric.

His heart skips a beat and he doesn't even hesitate to step off the landing and push Billy back against the nearest wall, listening to the soft rush of air as the blond's back hits it a little too hard, but he's smiling like the prick he is, staring down his nose at Steve as he tilts his head back.

"Mm, Stevie, that wasn't very nice," he purrs, and that's when Steve smells the alcohol on his breath, but he doesn't care.

He grabs the bottom of Billy's shirt and rucks it up, his jaw dropping as he breathes out a rush of air, like he's just been punched in the gut.

He wasn't seeing things. He was right.

A silver curved barbell, pierced through Billy's navel, sitting so pretty and perfect just above his happy trail.

"You like it?" Billy hums, arrogant, because he already knows Steve does.

His mouth is too dry to answer, and he can't help it when he begins to touch the skin of Billy's stomach, his dark eyes trained on the piercing as his fingers dance around it, his thumb daring to draw closer and closer until he strokes the barbell, giving it a little tug that has Billy making this sound that goes straight to his cock--

"Fuck," Steve breathes, feeling his cock throb in his jeans, so fucking turned on and he hadn't even known it until he heard Billy make that sound, and now he's arching into Steve's touch, seeking it out, and...and...

He flicks his eyes back up to Billy, sees this look on his face, like he kinda wants to eat Steve alive but also wants to be kissed, so Steve does.

He surges forward and Billy meets him halfway, their mouths meeting in a frenzy, like they can't get there fast enough or close enough. He can hear glass break, knowing it's the beer bottle, but it's forgotten because it's dizzying - the way Billy pushes his tongue into his mouth, not wasting a single moment, groaning into his mouth and it goes straight to his cock again.

His hands go to Billy's waist and he pulls himself against him, tilting his head to suck at Billy's lower lip as he grinds his hips into the blond's, revelling in the choke moan he receives for it.

"Knew you'd be into it," Billy breathes, when Steve kisses down his neck and licks at the cologne there, his skin bitter and salty, and he bites down on the junction between neck and shoulder just to hear Billy moan again.

"Shut up," Steve pants, pouting as he sucks on Billy's neck, and then pauses because--

He pulls back just enough to look at Billy, admires the flush on his face before he says, accusingly, "You knew."

"Of course I knew," Billy chuckles low, his teeth flashing as he grins, "I couldn't help it. It was fun watching you lose your mind over it."

"You're such a fucking brat," Steve growls, fisting a hand in Billy's hair and pulling him into a hard kiss, hearing Billy's chuckling hums turn into soft moans as Steve slides his tongue against Billy's.

He can't help but to imagine a stud there, sliding against his tongue, against his skin, against the tip of his cock--

Billy hooks his leg around Steve's hip and reaches down to grab his ass, pulling their hips together until there's a delicious but restricted friction, the blond growling into his mouth, "Yeah? You gonna do anything about it?"

It's enough of a taunt for Steve to pull them away from the wall and turn them, once again pushing Billy back towards the poker table in the middle of the room, a fire in his blood that Billy notices in his eyes and it has him grinning, flushed and pleased as he crawls back onto the table, letting Steve push him down onto his back.

"You gonna suck my cock like you've been wanting to, princess?" Billy breathes, cocky as always.

"Maybe," Steve hums, pushing Billy's shirt up again to get another look at the piercing there, thumbing over it and giving it a playful little tug that has Billy hissing.

"That hurt?" He asks gently.

"S'fine," Billy hums, licking his lips, "Just got it caught on something this morning, kinda tender..."

"Good," Steve says, pushing the shirt higher with both hands, until he's thumbing at Billy's nipples, feeling them harden under his touch and he watches the pleasure cross Billy's face as he squirms under it, sensitive.

"Wonder how sensitive they'd be if you pierced them, too," he murmurs, feeling his blush spread down to his chest as he images it, silver barbells through each nipple, playing with them until Billy had tears in his eyes, begging him to stop or make him cum.

"Maybe we should find out," Billy sighs, moans when Steve gives them a little pinch, arching into the touch like a girl.

"Maybe we should," he agrees, thumbing over them again as he lowers his mouth, pressing and sucking kisses into Billy's stomach, unable to help himself as his mouth wanders lower, his tongue peeking out to guide the metal ball of the barbell into his mouth, groaning as he closes his mouth around it and gives it a little suck, feeling Billy's hips buck under him as he gasps out, "Steve!"

"Yeah, baby? Feel good?" Steve murmurs as he flicks his tongue over it again, sliding his hands down from Billy's chest and to his jeans, tugging his belt open and kissing lower and lower, nuzzling that happy trail with the tip of his nose as he tugs Billy's jeans down, lower and lower until his cock is out and Steve can feel it bump his chin.

He's like a man starved, opening his mouth wide and taking Billy's cock onto his tongue, moaning at the taste of him, salty and bitter like cologne and he still fucking puts it on his dick, the freak, but it's too good and he doesn't even care at this point, not when Billy's grabbing a fistful of his hair and gasping his name.

It's messy, because he's kinda drunk, but he does his best, sucking and minding his teeth, swirling his tongue over the tip before taking Billy as deep as he can, gagging on it gently because Billy makes the prettiest sounds when he does.

"Fuck, Stevie, so fucking pretty like this," Billy moans, watching Steve bob his head up and down on his cock, and he glances up at the blond, their eyes meeting as he slurps at the tip like a fucking slut, and it makes his cheeks burn red.

"Shit--I'm close," Billy gasps, his face twisting in pleasure, which is honestly a compliment because Steve knows he can blow him better than this if he were totally sober, but it's not exactly the time to drag things out, so he sucks harder and brings his hand down to fondle at Billy's balls, giving them a little tug and pressing his knuckles to his taint, enraptured as he watches Billy's eyes roll back as he cums, gripping Steve's hair hard.

It makes him whimper, feeling a streak of cum in his mouth, and he pulls off Billy's cock with a soft gasp, feeling another streak or two paint his chin and cheek.

"Holy fuck," Billy laughs quietly, going limp on the table, but he's still staring down at Steve, humming, "You got a lil something there, Stevie..."

He doesn't even care, too turned on to fucking think as he straightens and goes for his own jeans, yanking them down and pulling out his cock with one hand while the other goes to his face, spitting Billy's cum out onto his palm while he wipes the mess on his chin and cheek with his fingers, bringing that hand down to wrap around himself with a moan.

It's gross but it's worth it to see the stunned and awed look on Billy's face, his jaw slack and blue eyes wide as he looks down to watch Steve stroke himself, clearly admiring his cock.

"Jesus, Stevie," Billy sighs, "You've been holding out on me."

"You've seen it before," he grunts, stroking over the tip and feeling his balls tighten in response.

"Not like this," Billy hums, licking his lips, and Steve's locked in on his mouth then, imagining it stretched around his cock, knowing that it eventually will be.

He feels his stomach tense and he whimpers out a quiet 'fuck' as he cums, aiming right for Billy's stomach, sighing happily when he watches it cover Billy's piercing.

"Oh, you fucker," Billy chuckles, breathless and almost fucked out, looking up at Steve with annoyed amusement.

"Pay back, for the two weeks you put me through," Steve pants with a grin, triumphant.

But, like he knows, he's a sucker for Billy and he doesn't leave him like that. He goes over to the couch against the wall and grabs the box of tissues there, pulling a few out to clean himself with before taking a few more to Billy, who grabs them from him.

He watches Billy carefully wipe away at his piercing, smirks when he hears the annoyed grumbling as he wipes the cum from his belly button, and he grins when Billy shoots him a look.

"You had it coming," he chuckles, scrunching his nose when Billy throws the crumpled up tissue at his face.

"Asshole," Billy hums, tucking himself back into his jeans, slow and unhurried.

Steve does the same and watches his best friend push himself up with a wince, until they're face to face again, although the table has Steve looking up at Billy a bit.

They stare at each other for a moment, in that warm lamp light, until Steve leans in and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to Billy's mouth. Way too sweet for what they just did.

"So," he hums against Billy's mouth, "About those nipple piercings..."

He feels Billy smile against his mouth, his chest rumbling with a chuckle as he mutters, "I'll think about it."

They both know he's definitely doing it.

[myokk]

Eloise is really, really bad at chess😐

(this is a scene from my fic & I typed it up here:)

"Milady, you cannot send him there! He will surely die a terrible death, and Murdoch is our finest knight!"

Eloise blinked her bleary eyes at the wizarding chess board, not really comprehending what the tiny pieces were yelling at her. The one that seemed to be doing the most talking was gesticulating wildly and jumping up and down, trying to get her attention. When she had taken the pieces out of the box Sebastian had lent her, they had immediately recognized her and started protesting, appealing to 'their benevolent lord's innate sense of goodness', but their protests fell on deaf ears. Eloise was positive that Sebastian took some sort of perverse pleasure at watching her lose at chess.

In the background, she could hear Ominis's laughter echoing through the Undercroft. His own pieces were quite happy at the moment, preening and occasionally sending rude gestures towards Eloise's, much to Sebastian's amusement. He was narrating their every action to Ominis, whose laughter was egging on his soldiers even more.

"Eloise," Sebastian said, propping his chin up by one hand (entirely too amused, infuriatingly so, why did he have to look so handsome when she was trying to be annoyed at him?), "maybe you should move the knight..." his other hand pointed to an empty space on the board, "...here."

This declaration caused an uproar. There were shouts of betrayal, tiny pieces gesticulating wildly to the carnage surrounding the board as they shouted in vain. She didn't see any other viable moves, so Eloise sighed and ordered the brave little Murdoch to where Sebastian had suggested. Chaos immediately ensued and Ominis's queen gleefully knocked his head off with a violent swing of her scepter. Eloise's pawns all doubled over, sobbing as their most valient knight fell, and her remaining bishop shook his tiny fist in outrage up at her.

After a few more minutes, much to Eloise's ashamed relief and the boys' disappointment, her pieces refused to move for either her or Sebastian. They solemnly collected the remains of their fallen comrades with as much dignity as they could muster and marched off the board and back into their box in a mourning parade of sorts.

Sebastian joined Ominis's pieces as they jeered the losing team off the board, causing Eloise to glare fiercely at him. "You were the one telling me what to do, and they're your pieces! Show some loyalty."

He shrunk away from the intensity of her gaze and held up his hands in protest. "I was suggesting the moves as a joke! After last week's fiasco, I didn't think you'd fall for it again."

Ominis was laughing so hard he was gasping for breath, and the two of them turned to watch him. Even through her irritation, Eloise couldn't help but smile at him - he was always so solemn and these bouts of mirth were few and far between. He managed to speak between bouts of laughter. "I...I couldn't...I couldn't believe it when you sent your bishops one by one into my trap! It was so obvious! And then...and then you..." Ominis dissolved into fits of laughter again and couldn't finish.

Eloise turned her angry glare to him. "We can't all be chess geniuses!"

"I've tried teaching you and you don't listen! For the next time, I'm only going to give you one piece of advice: don't listen to Sebastian." He chuckled once more to himself and then turned slightly to the board, addressing his men (and queen) and giving them a debriefing. He always did this after he won the matches; it was a strange sort of ritual that he seemed to look forward to.

[splynter]

The Dyemmit and Gossip Group document IS READY

IF YOURE INTERESTED IN GAY PEOPLE, SHENANIGANS, FOUND FAMILY, AND HURT/COMFORT, YOURE IN THE RIGHT PLACE

Ever since December I have been in THE PIT. Writing with my buddy @spiralled-fury. About DYODE AND EMMIT and by extension MY OCS. There’s a lot in there and the Google doc is huge and PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS IM BEING SO FR

You can check it out here :D

[short666bread]

Chapter 2 of my wip fic, Draco Malfoy Gets Hit By A Car. I did not plan to write Harry’s POV actually it just happened.

[fandomtrash-whataboutit]

In a shocking turn of events, having technically 5-6 in progress projects on ao3 at the same time is proving overwhelming. Stay tunes for updates on this breaking news

[sisaloofafump]

Final assignment 1: hebrew bible fanfic is done. Do I upload on ao3 and just send my prof the link

[m1ckeyb3rry]

i don’t feel like writing rn so i’m going to cross post all of my bllk one shots to ao3 LMAO rip to anyone who’s subscribed to my user there ig…

[lullaebies]

Hi, I love this acc sm!

Just asking if you could do a Jaehaera lives and Daenaera marries Viserys ii au? thanks sm!!

“You can eat it still. I’ll manage, Daenaera,” Jaehaera tells her good sister. Daenaera prances around the room as if she is a lady-in-waiting still, taking the fish dish she had been eating and putting it on the balcony for the morning birds to gobble up. 

“Your words are most kind, your Grace, but your scrunched nose betrays you,” Daenaera grins as she sits back down on their tea table. They most often have their tea times at the gardens, but Jaehaera’s fatigue had not allowed them such luxury. Daenaera had combed her hair, but they both agreed she is better off remaining in her comfortable nightgown for the day. “The smell of the Strumm fish wards off Viserys, too. Regretful I must give up my defences, but I’ll manage for my Queen.”

Jaehaera lifts her teacup to her lips, a thin smile stretched upon her tired face. “Newlyweds should be sweet on each other. Should I worry you want my good brother repelled already?��� 

Daenaera laughs, her pretty smile accompanied by a playful gaze. “Oh, there are no concerns there. Should he have been any sweeter, he may have not allowed me to attend my duties to you on this fine day.”

Jaehaera shakes her head with a soft chuckle. “You are going to make Viserys resent me,” she says. They’ve come a long way since their initial meeting and the accusations of her ‘bewitching Aegon’, but Jaehaera’s matching of her good brother and Daenaera bridged them true. She hopes that it won't go to waste. “Regardless, you are not my lady-in-waiting anymore. You must remember to enjoy your own bliss; you needn’t attend any duty.”

“On the contrary, your Grace. You are my good sister now, and my duties are attended from the depths of my heart,” Daenaera says as if she is speaking out a poem, smoothly, and leans forward to bring a hand over Jaehaera’s palm. “On such exciting days I couldn’t bear not to see you, Haera.”

Jaehaera smiles gently, bringing her other hand to her belly. She had been anxious when the signs had started to show. The maester Daenaera brought from Driftmark in preparation for her wedding had also been the maester that confirmed Jaehaera is with child. The Grand Maester would’ve had to tell Aegon — but she had wanted to know for herself, first. They only made headway with their own intimacy this year. The changes are coming with such haste she hasn’t managed to internalise either her fears or her excitement. 

Swift knocks are heard from behind the door. “King Aegon the Third and Prince Viserys are at the door, my Queen,” Ser Willis Fell announces. “May they enter?”

Jaehaera snorts. Ser Willis wastes no opportunities to show his allegiance. Should Aegon have stood there alone, he could not make them ask for permission, but Viserys standing outside the door means he must mind her chastity. 

“Speak of the devil,” Daenaera’s smiles from ear to ear, turning her body around to the door. 

“Daenaera,” Jaehaera exclaims softly, amused. She clears her throat to raise her voice. “Let them in, Ser Willis.”

The door opens for the two brothers. Aegon’s dark amethyst eyes fall on her tenderly, and the hand that brushes on her belly moves to her lap. She nearby told him yesterday, when he embraced her to calm sleep, but had found him lulled to sleep before she could find the courage. It is always on the tip of her tongue.

“And here I thought you’d keep me out, good-sister,” Viserys says, walking over to Daenaera in steps that seemed more reflex than thought of. “Wife,” he says, planting a full kiss on her silver locks.

“If it was up to me, she would,” Daenaera answers, giving a kiss of her own to his chin.”The council went well, I’d hope?”

“As well as you’d expect from a council all due to be swapped,” Viserys says. “They take too long to make decisions as simple as deciding what establishments to be patrons of for The Smith’s Day. The answer is in the day’s name, for heaven's sake.”

“The Smith represents all labourers, good brother,” Jaehaera chimes in, leaning back against her chair. “There is some merit in that discussion, I fear.”

Aegon drags the chair beside her to sit down. “Let him complain. We all know the true reason he does,” he says. “He has been tortured to keep a charming smile for the entirety of it. A wonder the corners of his lips are not set in it permanently, by now.”

“Should you budge a smile for once, I wouldn’t have to blind the room with mine,” Viserys says, taking his own place with his wife. “Dear sister, I implore you to have him practice his smiles. He cannot leave you to endear the realm to the crown on your own.”

“I am certain the realm will soon be overwhelmingly endeared to her and The Crown in tow. His Grace is only aid, one way or another,” Daenaera chuckles to herself. 

“Pardon?” Aegon asks, tilting his head. The goblet of wine he poured for himself is held by his chest as he stops to comment. He poured herself one, too; she had been the wine fan of them two, but alas, she cannot allow herself to drink much. “I don’t think my wife needs any assistance in these matters.”

Jaehaera smiles. A few years ago all would doubt that claim entirely, but she supposes all things are due to change. She ought to embrace this possibility and make it true; the son or the daughter that are growing in her belly deserve to be loved by the realm, as they deserve to be loved by their father.

She looks at Aegon midway his sip, at the line of his restrained lips. Jaehaera raises herself on the chair, fixing her posture, hand coming back to her belly. “Perhaps, but assistance will come anyway. The babe will be of great aid, if my husband will not.”

Aegon’s wine spritzes from his mouth like a rush of rain. It stains the teal of Viserys’s doublet and furthermore his face, to Daenaera’s great laughter. Jaehaera cracks a wide smile at the display, and especially when Aegon turns to her whole. 

“Truly?” his goblet is left aside, reaching out to her wrist. Jaehaera nods gently, letting her eyes crinkle at Aegon in hopes his will return the favour. The king does not disappoint, his face coming to her own for a swift kiss that stamps his smile on her own.

“I am all congratulations for the both of you, and the realm,” Viserys says, trying to clean off some of the wine on his doublet while Daenaera brushes away his wet fringe from his face, still struck with giggles. “But you most definitely will have to rely on your wife and child in charms, dear brother.”

Aegon shakes his head, kissing her one more time before he turns to his brother. “We will see how you will take it when such news comes to you.”

Feeling at her utmost bravery, Jaehaera hums. “My aversion to the scent of Daenaera’s beloved fish dish had been a most important indicator. Perhaps we should check if you are due alongside me, dear brother?”

“Those damn fish,” Viserys’s ears turn a shade of pink. “I take it back. My nephew or niece will have to do the work for you both.”

Daenaera kisses Viserys’s flushed cheek; soon enough his face brightens. Aegon brings a hand to Jaehaera’s stomach too. Jaehaera hopes the son or daughter within her hears the joy they already brought forward.

[syb-la-tortue]

Hi there! Ik you're not into homestuck anymore, but I was wondering if all your old piratestuck art is posted anywhere else, since your original blog got deleted? I used to spend so long just going through that tag, cause I love your art so much. It rly sucks that Tumblr is so hellbent on censoring everything to the point of just trashing a decade or more of someone's hard work :(

sadly at the moment no, tumblr was the only place where the great majority of my Homestuck art was (along with some One Piece art and a good chunk of my early bnha art) and even though I don't think much about Homestuck and Piratestuck these days, I wanted to share these art back then and the sentiment is still true today, I really want all my old arts to still be accessible for everyone to find, even if looking at them today myself might make me cringe due to it being old and seeing all the flaws in them lmao

anon asked: Hope you’ll be able to reupload your art! Everything you make is gorgeous!

I know I won't reupload them on tumblr (wouldn't be able to post the sexy here anyway and I refuse to skip it), or twitter or wherever, one by one like they were posted in the past, because we're talking about hundreds, possibly close to a thousand pieces of art and doodles

what I intend to do is to sort them into a few .PDFs (by fandom? by year?) and make those available for download

it's just that. the task right now is a bit daunting, that's a lot of art to sort through! and I would also like to write some level of commentary, you know like captions to give some context, maybe some of the lore and headcanons for Piratestuck, that kinda thing! but yeah, lot of work that I'm currently a bit afraid to start on so that might be a while...

[saysflora]

If you ask Mush, winter is one of the best times of the year, but it seems he's one of the only people in the lodgings that feels that way. What starts as a way to take Blink's mind off of the now cold, dark months ends up being a bigger scheme than even he was imagining, and he's more than happy to take the opportunity to plan a celebration that'll have everyone raring with holiday spirit. With help, of course.

OR: Mush throws a Christmas Party.

[silliest-sideblog]

I made a podfic for the lovely graveyard shift AU by @aliferous-ly and @vesperaink for the fic chasing crimson, beta read by @dibs2win one of my favorite rancher fics <3

While I've done readings of fanfiction before I have never really made something that was recorded and edited and everything so I am quite proud of it :'D it's just the prologue but I'm fairly sure I might do more since this was a ton of fun!

Anyway, here is the link!

Everyone should also go read chasing crimson, it is seriously so good and will always have a special place in my heart <3

Link to the audio is also here, under the cut (I do not trust that I did it correctly on ao3 lol)

[kithtaehyung]

[ 3tan10 ] updates and what to know!

new drop date: friday, june 9th🍊 even though i got a lot done, this will give me extra time to truly sit with it and edit without rushing, giving you a much better final result<3 for those of you enjoying his concert that day, this could be a nice dessert for after! not only am i more comfortable with this release date, the extra time also means extra words.

new word count estimate: 18-20k :’))

what to expect: a lot. like a lot. so if you’re the type that likes to be organized with commentary, this one is gonna be like forfeit so you may need to take notes while you go through it!

what else to expect: this might get hit with a Mature community label, so make sure you have your Community Label Settings set to Show instead of Hide (needs to be fixed on desktop, Account Settings.) if you have yours on the default settings, any posts labeled Mature won’t even exist for you.

💌 note: thank you for being understanding and patient while i get through the final stretch! i know it’s been a long time coming but i am fighting to make the wait worth it. consider this busted chapter a whole instead of one part, and another one i’m pouring myself into❤️‍🩹

thank you all and see you on (the new) drop day!!🥳

[luxeberries]

now on ao3

One day, in mid August of ‘85, Dustin shows up at Steve’s front door, completely unannounced. It’s the middle of the night and Steve has half the mind to reprimand Dustin about curfew and biking alone in the dark. But when his vision finally focuses on Dustin’s expression, Steve sees panic in his eyes; fear. At first, his heart plummets and he thinks not again, not so soon. But then Dustin says-

“I killed that guy. Didn’t I?”

And every other thought in Steve’s mind crumbles like ash. 

“The Russian,” Dustin clarifies in Steve’s silence. “The doctor.” 

Steve remembers. 

Bald, round glasses. 

Stale coffee breath. 

Pliers pulling his nail. 

He can’t speak, throat closing up. 

Dustin keeps talking, rambling like Robin does when she’s panicked. “They used those cattle prods to stun demogorgons, Steve. Do you have any idea how many volts that thing held? He- He fell, like-”

“Dustin,” Steve says - rasps it out because his throat is dry but he needs to stop Dustin’s spiral. 

Rendered silent, Dustin looks up at Steve with wide, glistening eyes. He’s expecting an answer, but Steve doesn’t have one. He can’t think beyond the sight of Dustin standing before him in a matching pajama set and untied shoes, like he didn’t have the time or mind to fasten them up because he was in too much of a rush to come here. To seek out Steve, in the middle of the night. Steve, who should be able to help because that’s his job; he’s the protector, the older brother Dustin can come to for comfort. 

Except that Steve was woken with a start just five minutes ago when Dustin started pounding on his front door and he thought it was the Russians coming back for him, his mind still half lost to the nightmare he was having; all blood and bone saws and Robin’s screams. Part of him is itching to call her, like maybe she somehow died back there and Steve has been imagining her this whole time and he just needs to hear her mom answer the phone and say, ‘Yeah, she’s right here, honey’. 

But he remembers Dustin charging in, remembers watching him strike the doctor right in the chest and how he fell to the ground, limp, and didn’t get back up. Knows that everyone is safe, no matter what his brain tries to tell him. Robin and Erica are sleeping in their beds, and Dustin is standing on his front door step, bike discarded on the ground next to the Bimmer. 

Steve takes a deep breath and says, “Get in here.” 

He ushers Dustin in with a hand on the back of his neck, locking the door behind them, and heads to the living room. Dustin just keeps looking at him, like Steve has all the answers. Like Steve can make it all better. Can say the voltage wouldn’t have killed him, as if the possibility that he’s still out there wouldn’t send himself into a panic attack. 

“Steve,” Dustin says, and it sounds like a plea; the way his voice lisps, wet and small. 

He’s only thirteen.

“I killed a person,” Dustin says. 

And Steve gets it, sort of. It doesn’t matter that the person Dustin killed was evil and cruel, just like it didn’t matter that Billy Hargrove was about to kill Lucas when Steve stepped in between them. He still didn’t want to hurt someone. Each punch felt like too much, like if he punched any harder, he’d do some serious damage. And Billy would have deserved it - as horrible as it feels to think that after his sacrifice - but Steve didn’t want to be the one to do it. That’s not who he is. He’s a protector, not a fighter. Not a killer. That breaks something in a person, as is made clear by the crack in Dustin’s voice. It took something from him. The little bit of innocence Dustin had left. 

“Yeah,” Steve says, quiet and almost apologetic. “You did.” 

Dustin’s face falls, as if he really did want Steve to say otherwise. But avoiding the truth won’t help anything. 

“But- But you saved me, okay?” he says, like he’s asking if that truth is enough.

Dustin’s eyes flash with something Steve can’t identify. 

“Me and Robin,” Steve continues. “You saved us. If you hadn’t done what you did- What you had to do…”

His nightmares have answered that hypothetical too well. 

He shakes it off, puts his hand on Dustin’s shoulder instead.

“You saved us. You did good, Dustin. Okay? That’s what’s important here.” 

Dustin's face crumples and before Steve can blink, he’s got an armful of the kid. He’s still bruised, ribs only just recovering from the break, and it hurts. But he wraps Dustin up in his arms and lets him cry into his shoulder, wetting the thin fabric through. 

"Hey, it's okay," Steve soothes, voice low. "You're okay. I've got you, buddy."

He’s not coddling him or trying to get him to stop crying- he just talks so Dustin knows he’s there. Tells him how grateful he is for Dustin taking care of him and Robin when they were messed up, for being so brave when he busted into that room. He talks until Dustin is quiet against him, left with his arms wrapped around Steve’s waist and his face pressed into Steve’s shoulder. He doesn’t move for a while, but Steve doesn’t mind - just rubs his back and rests his cheek against his curls. 

“Your mom know you’re here?” he asks softly. 

Dustin shakes his head. 

“You wanna stay here tonight?” 

Dustin nods. 

Steve checks his watch over Dustin’s shoulder. It’s almost midnight. He sighs. 

“Remind me to send her flowers or something as an apology for waking her up right now,” Steve says, light-hearted, trying to make Dustin laugh.

But Dustin just sniffles, guilty. “Sorry.”

“Hey, no. It’s fine. Take your shoes off and head on upstairs, yeah? I’ll call your mom and tell her you’re with me.” 

Dustin pulls back, wipes his wet nose with his sleeve and Steve tries not to cringe. 

“Thanks, Steve.”

It’s not entirely selfless, calling Dustin’s mom. If he calls Mrs Henderson, he can call Robin right after without Dustin knowing. He has a feeling she’ll be awake at this time too anyway. He thinks he might call the Sinclairs as well, wants to make sure Erica is okay. 

And as long as Dustin stays the night, Steve knows that at least he’s safe, spread out right beside him, taking up the whole bed. Can make sure Dustin sleeps through the night, can be there if he has a nightmare that his mom wouldn’t be able to calm him down from. 

Steve ruffles Dustin’s hair, smiling at how he pushes into it like a cat. “It’s no problem.”