#Susan please you are the love of my life 🥺🥺 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

biillys · 3 months

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snippet, summary, something for these please! and I added my own commentary.

summer but brba summer but WHAT now?

nooo one is haunted? loves me? this feels like a fill-in-the-blank :)

hwbthm what does this mean?

happiest sad girl okay okay you're speaking my language

worlds worst employee pls be about Billy in a cat cafe or something

fire and grace great title, I am curious!

summer ***** is this the naughty version of "summer"?

kdjfhkjsdahk luc i Love you. thankyou 🥺 this is atrociously long because i love to ramble and can not just simply post a simple paragraph at a time, instead posting entire scenes. i am SORRY.

also i apparently write a lot about characters dying and getting killed and murder also there's mentions of abortion and miscarriage also there's child abuse and child sexual absue. so trigger warnings for all that. starting to realise i really do not write fluff

summer but brba:

okay before i can be like. summer but breaking bad! i first need to explain Summer. which is my twd au aka my lil baby my actual heartbeat the Love of my life etc. and then the brba part is like. not actual very breaking bad at all. it's just me borrowing one character from it because i feel like todd makes a Good and Interesting villain who i could like. mold into the character i wanted for certain purposes becos i'm not creative enough to make oc's. and it was easier to differentiate between the different summer fics by key words, hence = but brba.

anyway! it's bascially a fucked up version where instead of just having a shitty childhood with neil as a father and a phantom dream of a mother, he also has todd as an uncle. he's technically not related and more a guy his dad knew from a friend of a friend in the army, but somehow todd starts coming over for dinner, hanging out on friday nights, and before billy knows it, he's staying at todd's shitty ranch on the weekends, when neil's gotta work the late shift and doesn't trust billy to be home alone unsupervised for an extra 2 hours. so, todd's a fucking creep, and billy learns that the hard way, and he tries to tell neil once, and that goes over as well as expected, so he just grins and bears it, and he thinks maybe susan will pick up on shit when she enters the picture, except she looks the other way at most things, so billy's like. just super fucked up and ready for the end of the world when it hits, because why wouldn't the world end when he's already at rock bottom.

then, instead of just billy, max, and neil surviving into the end of the world, good old uncle todd tags along, too. they head to the quarry together, survive on the road together, outlive the prison together, then everyone gets separated. billy, neil, and todd end up with the claimers, and shit really hits rock bottom for billy. long story short–rick rips a guys throat out with his teeth, daryl and michonne take a few men down in a blood bath, and billy slits his dad's throat and stabs his uncle to death.

“hey, what you did last night, what billy did,” daryl brings up, “anybody would’ve done that.”

“no, not that,” rick shoots down.

“something happened,” daryl bites his lip, “that ain’t you, ain’t either of you.”

“daryl, you saw what i did to tyreese,” rick points out. “it ain’t all that, but that’s me. that’s why i’m here now, that’s why carl is. i gotta keep him safe. that’s all that matters.” rick nods calmly, accepting himself in ways he never thought he’d be able to. “i don’t know what went down with billy and his dad, or his uncle, but whatever did, i’m choosing to believe that what happened last night, was what was needed.”

“it was,” daryl replies, no hesitation. “neil, we knew about, but todd...” daryl trails off, staring unseeingly at the trees in front of him.

“if billy didn’t, i would’ve,” daryl finishes.

rick nods. “that’s what matters. that’s all that matters, now.”

michonne joins them eventually, then carl, billy remaining passed out in the backseat. daryl feels like he should be out hunting, should be providing something, anything, for these people, but can’t bring himself to leave again. it was different that morning, ducking away to find some water, the sun barely peaking over the horizon, but now in the broad daylight, looking at the bodies and the blood littered all over the pavement, he feels rooted to the spot.

he couldn’t save beth, but billy’s alive, and carl’s alive, and rick’s here. michonne’s here. they’re still alive, they’re still here. he’s gotta find a way to make that count.

nooo one:

I MEAN. u are not wrong ahfkdshkfja it's a supernatural inspired au because i rewatched s1-3 recently (and am still psyching myself up to continue but i need to emotionally prepare for cas lmao) and was like. i'll incorporate that into my blorbo. hell yeah.

thinks, when it's all about to be over–she should've fucking left.

it's a djinn that gets her in the end. it doesn't kill her, barely even harms her. just shows her a world where everything's right. a world where it's just her and billy, living happily and peacefully, no hunting, no pain, and no neil. a world where they take their daily walks to the beach, and billy's smile is brighter than the sun, his laugh contagious, and she's happy. happier than she ever realised she could be.

so when neil rescues her, untying her hands and brushing the hair out of her eyes, all she can do is look for billy. she finds him straight away, her eyes zeroing in on him standing just behind his father, silver knife dripping with more than just animal blood, and he's clutching it in his shaking hands, looking up at her with wide, terrified eyes.

she exhales out then collapses forward, choking on a sob and shoving neil out of the way to grab at him, and billy lets the knife clutter to the ground to rush to her, running straight into her open arms.

"it's okay. it's okay, baby," she murmurs into his ear, one hand shakily running down his back, the other buried in his hair. "we're okay. i'm okay. you're gonna be okay, i promise, baby."

billy buries his face into her neck and cries, and she holds him tighter, keeping up the stream of reassurances as she does.

neil waits around billy's door on the fourth night, hiding just out of sight, and listens to their bedtime routine. hears his wife read a story, then a second one, the cave and read a third, before she sings him her favourite song. he listens as billy finally settles, and thinks, she'll be out any minute, and he'll make her talk. get to the bottom of why she hasn't looked him in the eye since he saved her.

she doesn't come out, instead she starts talking again, so softly neil can barely hear, but he takes a step closer, then another step, until he's as close as he can be without being found, and if he holds his breath, he can just make out what shes saying.

"i'm gonna get us out of here, okay, sweetheart, i promise you. it's just gonna be me and you."

"just you and me?" billy murmurs back just as softly.

"just me and you. and we're gonna be so so happy, baby. no more monsters, no more blood, or knives, or hunting. just us, and the beach, and the sun, and so much ice-cream."

neil hears the way her voice goes fake serious at the end, the way billy giggles and she laughs, before the bed creaks and they settle again.

"no dad?" billy questions quietly after a minute.

neil listens to the silence that hangs in the air at the question, waiting for her response, but whatever she says gets lost in the space between them, because he never hears the answer.

he hears billy, though.

"just me and you," he says, sounding like he's repeating what he's hearing, almost completely asleep.

"yeah, baby. just me and you."

neil stands in the hallway for a minute longer, then quietly slips away, grabbing himself a drink from the bottle in the cupboard and making himself at home in his chair, drinking himself to sleep. he'll deal with this mess tomorrow.

anddddddd then neil murders her the next night in the kitchen and makes billy deal with the body becos apparently i love to make billy suffer? uh billy stealing her necklace and keeping it on his person for the rest of time, her being stuck haunting him but never being able to reach him, billy figuring out young that if he gets high–if the hospital gives him the Good Stuff–he can still see her. neil dragging billy all over the country to kill monsters, meeting susan and max on a hunt, and moving to hawkins when the kids are in their teens becos some hunters are making some noise about kids going missing, kids with superpowers, and fucking magnets? also, billy befriending demodogs.

hwbthm:

heaven wasn't built to hold me aka a banger song by four year strong! uh basically susan grows a spine au kind of? neil loses his job and starts hitting the bottle and susan finally reaches her limit.

“that’s enough,” she says, her voice only cracking slightly.

billy’s on the floor, glass cuts on his arms and hands from where he’s scrambled himself back against the kitchen cabinets, blood flowing from his nose and from a cut on his forehead, watching on with wide eyes. he never thought she’d have it in her.

“that’s enough!” she repeats, louder and stronger this time, finally getting neil’s full attention.

neil turns to her and there’s absolutely no sign of neil, her loving husband, the man she married. this version of neil is all sharp edges, hard words, scornful looks. there’s no mercy in his eyes, and no softness to plead with.

“what was that, susan?” neil asks slowly, calmly. billy wants to yell at her, tell her it’s a trap, that it’s the calm before the storm, to tread carefully. but, in the end, he knows speaking up now would escalate things, probably for the worse, so he keeps silent and hopes that she could read his face for that one moment she spared him a glance.

“get out,” she says.

not exactly the careful treading billy was hoping for, but still enough of a surprise to buy them all a few moments of peace. billy’ll take it.

“get out?” neil repeats, incredulously.

“get. out.” susan says back, looking stronger with every word.

neil goes to respond, starting to take a step towards her, when she cuts him off.

“i’m done,” she starts, “i want you out. out of this house, out of our life, just- out. i need you to leave, right now. get out.”

billy swings an arm up to the edge of the counter and tries to pull himself up, terrified of this spiralling out of control even more but like, if susan can grow a fucking spine, then he can stand on his own two damn feet.

“now, susan, let’s just talk first,” neil responds slowly, edging closer and closer towards her.

susan moves to stand between max and neil, right in front of the kitchen table, before pulling out her phone. “you take one more step closer, and i’m calling the chief.”

she doesn’t pull up the call app or even unlock the phone, and billy thinks she’s bluffing, but then neil let’s out a humourless laugh and takes another step forward, and susan seems to have the chief’s number up and ready, finger posed over the dial button, before billy could even blink.

max is up and edging around the table, trying to be at the ready, waiting for shit to hit the fan again at any minute.

susan holds a hand out behind her to keep max back, and focuses her attention back on neil.

“get out,” she says, “now.”

“susan-” neil tries, but she’s not having any of it.

“take your shit, and leave, now, neil. i mean it,” the hand she was using to stop max in her tracks is now flung out and pointed at the front door, and billy’s gotta hand it to her, she’s got guts. billy never saw this coming. he honestly thought that if she ever stood up to neil and came through for them, it would because max finally copped it. never realised susan gave that much of a shit about him.

neil licks his lip and rubs his jaw, eyes flicking back to billy, then the phone in susan's hand, before settling back on his wife.

“get your shit, we’re leaving,” he says, eyes and voice emotionless.

it takes a second for billy to realise he’s talking to him, and less than a second to realise what it means. billy stays exactly where he is though, leaning on the counter and clutching his side, waiting for susan to jump in again.

susan won’t look at him.

“billy,” neil repeats, “now.”

susan still doesn’t say anything, and max breaks the silence with a ‘mom- you can’t actually-’ before susan silences her with a hand held up, the universal gesture of stop.

“billy!” neil yells, and billy finally gets his feet steady underneath him, ready to move.

“mom, are you serious?! billy’ll-” max tries again, but susan cuts her off.

“max, not now, please.”

“pack your shit, billy, we’re going,” neil states, not taking his eyes off susan for the entire exchange.

neil eventually walks off into the direction of his and susan’s bedroom, leaving just the mayfield’s and billy in the kitchen.

susan’s got her eyes closed and a hand over her chest like she’s trying to calm her racing heart. billy waits to see if she’s gonna say anything, even acknowledge him, but the longer the minute drags out, the heavier it sits that susan finally kicked neil to the curb, and in doing that, he’s getting kicked out too.

holy fuck, looks like she can follow in his mothers foot steps. smaller, slightly different steps, but same end destination. billy and neil, alone again.

uhhh then billy and neil ending up at the trailer park, susan and max getting some small shitty apartment, and billy too Emotional to reach out to max, and max not even knowing how to reach out to billy, so they don't, until billy drives past max walking home from school one day, no skateboard in sight, so he slows down and pulls up beside her, and she barely ackowleges him, except she still gets in the car, and he drops her home. and then it becomes a thing, and it takes them three trips to even speak to each other outside of giving directions, and then idk. this is already too long but like. more stuff happens kjshdskjhad

happiest sad girl:

feel like this title is very misleading becos it was just a lyric from the song i had on repeat at the time of coming up with this au. shout out to lights lmao but. this is a good ol' susan and neil have a baby au! which i have not seen around anywhere else but i think it'd be actually terrible in a fun to think about kind of way.

By the time Billy makes it out to the kitchen the next morning, Max and Neil have already left, leaving just him and Susan. He doesn’t know whether he’s meant to have found like, peace or whatever, during the night, and should be congratulating her, or if he’s allowed to make a quick escape, but she seems just as off balance as he is, so instead of splitting straight away, he opens the fridge and looks around.

Billy spent a truly fucking absurd amount of time googling baby shit last night once he was in his room. Probably not actually that much time, if you compared the amount with a new expectant mother, but for an almost 18 year old? It’s gonna fuck up his targeted ads for sure. Him and Max also texted well into the morning, sometimes links, sometimes questions, but mostly just ‘what the Fuck’s, and Billy’s came back to the same conclusion as he originally had, that none of this makes any fucking sense. He thinks that maybe if he could just talk to Susan, without his dad there, then maybe something might actually fucking click.

He closes the fridge eventually after it starts to beep and he’s let basically all the cold air out, deciding to just grab a granola bar from the cupboard, then he turns to lean against the counter. Susan still hasn’t looked at him, and he knows she hates it when he leaves the fridge door open for so long only to not get anything out, so he waits for her to take the bait, but she says nothing, just continues pottering around.

“You like, feelin’ okay?” he asks awkwardly, once it looks like she’s truly not gonna start the conversation herself. “Morning sickness is a thing for you right now, right?” He scratches the back of his neck.

Hollywood movies are dramatised, he knows, but surely they don’t put girls throwing up and announcing pregnancies together in every movie for it to be complete horseshit.

Susan stops scrubbing at the stove top to look at him, finally, but she just gives him a tight smile and goes back to scrubbing.

“Right, okay, I’ll just go-” he starts, still awkward, and grabs the granola wrapper whilst pushing off the bench, “I’ll just go fuck myself, then,” he finishes lamely, mainly to himself.

“The morning sickness hasn’t been too bad,” Susan starts, finally taking the olive branch for what it was, “It was worse with Max, I think.”

Billy stops in the doorway and turns around and nods, because he doesn’t actually have a reply for that. He doesn’t know, like, fucking baby small talk. Susan turns to put some bread in the toaster, and then they’re both just standing there, so far out of their fucking depth, that Billy wants to laugh, but he’s genuinely terrified it might actually make her cry, so. He keeps his shit together.

Susan’s toast comes up quick, because she’s a freak who likes it barely cooked, just warmed, and then she’s sitting at the table where this entire mess started, and then Billy realises that this isn’t where it started for her, which, fuck. Okay. He can do this.

“So,” he starts, aiming for casual, making himself comfortable leaning against the doorframe, “you want another kid,” and it comes out more of a statement than a question, but Susan still nods all the same.

“Like, you genuinely wanna do the baby thing again?” He checks again, because, that just doesn’t make any fucking sense to him. She actually says ‘yes’ this time, a verbal confirmation, but her face is nervous, and she’s trying so hard to look okay, like she’s living the dream, but Billy just can’t let it go. “But why?”

“Don’t you want a little brother or sister, a little Mini You or Mini Max?” she asks, and fuck no.

“Fuck no,” Billy dismisses quickly, “I barely like myself most days and god knows we don’t need another fucking Max.”

Susan looks at him sadly, like she cares, and Billy’s stomachs doing that thing where it keeps twisting in on itself, making him feel like he’s gonna be sick.

“So you want another kid, why not get a dog or some shit?” Billy quickly gets the subject back on track, away from himself, and waits while Susan catches up.

She looks speechless for a moment, before finding her voice.

“That’s hardly the same thing, Billy, please tell me you know that,” she says, and she’s looking at him like she genuinely thinks he believes those things are interchangeable.

“Okay, then, why now?” he cuts to, because outside of the entire ‘what the fuck’ of it all, that’s the only other burning question both him and Max have. Why now, when Billy’s got one foot out the door, and Max is close on his heels. Why now, when they’re still shit broke from the move from the west coast to Fucking Nowhere, Indiana. Why now?

Susan won’t look at him, just starts fiddling with her toast and gathering up crumbs.

“It just happened, and it seemed right,” she says softly, and Billy knows his dad’s a fucking piece of shit, but the longer Susan won’t even meet his eye, can’t even string a believable lie together to take cover in, the more Billy starts to worry that maybe his dad’s like, a cut the head off, bury the body, never speak about it again, kind of fucking piece of shit.

“Did- did my dad, like,” Billy starts, then quickly sits in the seat beside her, “if he forced you, or-” he tries again, but Susan’s finally looking at him, and-

“No! No, nothing like that,” she says, and it's the strongest her voice has sounded in the past 24 hours. “It genuinely was just…” she stops, then starts again after a breath, “an accident. A happy accident,” she repeats, sounding firm.

Billy leans back in his chair and rubs at his eyes, ‘cause while he’s glad his dad’s not a complete fucking monster, it still leaves the question of why. Susan’s doing a pretty bang up job of playing the part of wanting to expand the family, except for how she totally fucking sucks at it.

“Do you want this?” he asks after they’ve sat there for another few moments, because he may have asked it in a few different ways already, but he feels like he needs to ask again. “If you genuinely want this, I promise I'll crawl off your dick about it, try keep Max in line, too. But like, do you actually want this, Susan?”

Susan swallows, and can’t meet his eyes.

“There’s a clinic,” he broaches gently, trying not to spook her, “they’re open in an hour. I can take the morning off work, drive you out there. Accidents happen all the time, especially with advanced maternal age pregnancies,” he raises his eyebrows at her when she looks at him with surprise. “Yeah, I google shit.”

Susan's still playing with the toast, ripping the crusts to shreds, and Billy feels like this nightmare could be over so soon, if he could just get her to agree.

“Neil won’t have to know. It’ll just be a tragic accident, another baby lost to the first trimester. You’ll be okay,” he keeps going, “it doesn’t even hurt, I don’t think. They’re like, professional and shit.” Billy thinks maybe he should've done a little more research for this part, outside of the opening hours and availabilities for today, but he’s hoping if she has any questions, he can just offer to book the appointment and ask then.

Susan’s not saying anything, but she’s also not reacting the way Billy thought she would. He honestly was expecting instant refusal, possibly even shock. Maybe a slap across the face, or surprise, even. Instead, she just looks sad, and a little resigned.

They sit there for another few moments, and Billy’s glad he switched with Heather and isn’t on open today, because this entire mornings taking a hell of a lot longer than Billy planned.

“Susan?” he asks quietly, waiting.

That seems to snap her out of it, and she gathers her plate and stands, then walks to the bin to throw the leftovers out. Billy stands too, and leans against the table, watching her wash her plate and leaving it in the rack to air dry.

“Neil got home early,” she says eventually, and Billy’s got no fucking idea where this is going.

He shrugs, makes a ‘go on’ gesture, even though Susans not even looking his way, and Susan just repeats the same thing.

“Neil got home early.”

“Yeah, I got that,” he says, because he’s not fucking following.

“I suspected, so I took the test, and by the time I realised he was home, he was standing in the doorway, and then the timer went off,” she’s facing him now, and she doesn’t look nervous or scared, just frustrated. “It was positive. And Neil was beside me, and he said that maybe this could be a good thing. Good for us.”

“Neil says a lot of things,” Billy says slowly, “they’re mostly all shit, though.”

Susan breathes out a laugh, then goes back to looking frustrated and slightly miserable.

“I don’t get it,” Billy says, because he doesn’t. “Neil said it was gonna be a great time, so you said ‘sure, let’s have a fucking baby!’, simple as that?”

“He came home early,” she repeats, looking at Billy like she’s begging him to understand.

“Yeah,” Billy says hotly, “he’s annoying like that. He’s done it to me, too.”

She sighs, and Billy wishes she would just fucking spit it out already, because it feels big, and he just wants to fucking understand.

“He came home early, and I didn’t have time to deal with it,” she expands, and now the pictures coming together for Billy, finally.

Billy makes a wordless noise, and probably looks like he does when he tries to do math, ‘cause that shit’s confusing, but he’s trying to understand. “He came home early, and you didn’t have time to deal with it,” he repeats, “because, you have dealt with it, before.”

Susan nods, looking relieved, although still miserable.

“You-” he starts, pointing at her, then gestures vaguely to her stomach, “you’ve done this before?”

“Well, I’m not dealing with it this time, but…” she trails off.

“But, you have,” he states, then “once, before?” he asks, fully expecting to get shut down.

“Twice,” she corrects

Billy lets that sit for a second, because, holy fuck, okay.

“Okay, well. Then you know what to do, right?” It's been a wild 12 hours, but Billy’s starting to think it’s gonna get back on track.

Susan looks at him sadly again, like he’s still not getting it, but Billy got it, okay, Billy fully fucking understood it. Neil interrupted her before she could fix it quickly and quietly, but with a bit of figuring out, she should still be able to sort it.

“I’m keeping the baby, Billy,” she says, and Billy wants to bang his head against a wall.

“Okay, but why!” He doesn’t even give a shit anymore about sounding like a fucking child, just wants to understand.

She’s got tears in her eyes again, and Billy’s pretty sure he started this morning with trying to not make her cry, but now he really doesn’t give a damn. She sniffles, and tries to smile at him.

“Because Neil said it could be a good thing, that we could be a family, and-” she cuts herself off and crosses her arms, hugging herself, “and I believe him.”

“‘The fuck are me and Max then?” Billy throws back, “not a good thing? Not your fucking family?” he questions, getting heated.

Susan’s shaking her head, but Billy’s finished with this conversation.

“I have to go to work, have fun being sick, or whatever.” He doesn’t slam the door on the way out, because he’s not Max, but it’s a near thing.

anyway basiacally the summary here is neil and susan have a baby. somehow that's billy's problem. ft him and max literally getting their lives together for reasons they never even considered before

worlds worst employee:

akjdhkjas i am sorry to disappoint but it is Not billy in a cat cafe although that idea sounds amazing please write it! uh it is literally something i have had in my drafts since literally september 2020 and is basically just billy and max going back to california, max for college and billy just because he Needs to. then billy finding the job market is Shit and he has no credentials to his name, no certificates or real experience anywhere aside from lifeguarding, only just scraped through and graduated high school, and fuck him—he is not doing college. so. he goes into hospitality and retail, and builds himself up to be employee of the fucking month despite his foul language and his general bad mood because he's annoyingly good at pretty much anything, and then when he can't be fucked with that job anymore he gets himself fired in usually a very public and spectacular way, then rinse and repeat at the next job. the only job he keeps and puts real effort into is the bar job he managed to score, because it's actually decent, and the tips are killer. also mandy milkovich is there becos i think they should be besties and i think i was watching the ep where she works at that fast food place with the shitty uniform and hat etc and was like. her and billy would raise absolutel hell together. i need them terrorising customers stat.

fire and grace:

title from the hilltop hoods ft ruel song of the same name because she Fits and i lover her

anyway! billy and hopper body swap! pretty sure i already posted a snippet literally again back in like 2020 and have barely touched it since, but! still fun!

"is max safe?" maybe if hop tried a different angle.

billy laughs humorlessly, spinning the glass in his hand, "max is the golden child."

"yeah? heard she didn't even get grounded after that night at the byers."

billy flinches, looking up at hopper, then lowering his eyes again.

"covered for her. big brother of the fucking year," he makes a half hearted cheering motion with one arm before letting it fall back on to his knee.

"that was kind of you,” hopper keeps fishing, knows billy’s gonna clam up for good any minute now, “looking out for her like that." he sits back in his chair.

"yeah, well. she wouldn't last a fucking day in my shoes," billy stands abruptly and starts to pace the small cell before stopping in front of him.

"so, am i in here all night, chief, or are you gonna drop me home now," billy starts drumming his hands on the bars. "not that this heart to heart hasn't been everything school mandated therapy promised me, but you’ve got a kid to go home to, i’ve got a bed to go home to," billy gestures between them, then starts drumming again. "so, what's it gonna be, sir?"

hopper sighs, knows his window of getting anything from billy is more or less closed, and reaches to get the keys.

billy tracks the movement then grins at him. "good choice, old man."

hopper stops to give him a dry look, then unlocks the door, letting billy swing it open. billy swaggers out like he runs the place, finishes the coke still sitting on hop’s desk, and grabs his phone, wallet, and keys. "shotgun," he calls over his shoulder, heading towards the door.

"so,” hopper starts, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, “max wouldn't last a day in your shoes, huh?" they're two streets away from billy’s house, but hop'll be damned if he doesn't give it one last go.

billy hmm’s, staring out the window, giving hopper a quick glance back and a one shouldered shrug.

"so, what? when you leave town and i'm just meant to keep an extra eye out? let her stay in the drunk tank every now and again like i let you. cover for her when she sneaks out with sinclair?" hop's got one hand on the steering wheel, the other hand gesturing around as he talks.

"told her to break it off with sinclair, that’s on her if it blows up in her face. besides," billy says tiredly, before turning to grin at him, his eyes turning ugly, "you wouldn't last a day in my shoes either, chief.”

they're on cherry lane now, and hop knows the second billy walks out, it’s all over. billy will pretend that everything said tonight was never spoken.

“so, you walking me to the front door? no lights on in the house, i could probably sneak in,” billy's leaning down and casing the house, talking more to himself than hop by then end of the sentence.

hop looks at him and looks at the hand clenching on the door handle, the other hand tapping away on his leg, having not stopped once this entire drive.

“your shoes gonna be easier to walk in tomorrow if i let you sneak in?”

“yes, sir,” billy’s face still looks hard, but at the prospect of being able to sneak in, it eases up a little.

hopper sits there for a minute before nodding, unlocking the car with the button on his side.

AND THEN they wake up the next morning having switched bodies. they last a few days before max finally corners billy (hopper) and makes him fess up, because hop didnt realise how fucking terrifying 13 yr old girls could be. el's a fucking saint compared to this hellraiser. max believes them instantly because hop's a terrible actor and after watching chief hopper aka billy stroll into benny's and use his badge and his flirting skills to get free drinks, she's like, yeah thats absolutely some bullshit billy would pull, you don't even need to convince me. also have some vague lil snippets of a bodyswap au between billy & max and also billy & karen because i think they could be literally so fucking. SATISFYING and interesting to like. pick apart and think about askfjhkajds

summer *****:

SAHDFLASHFLKDAHSLKHSAL like. no. maybe? no. it's summer mpreg aka my twd au but ya boi gets knocked up because i AM a simple girl for mpreg and i was TRYING to write twd au as something that i could like. post and publish publicly without being a freak about it but i got like 20k in and was like. actually i'm writing this for myself and EYE wanna see mpreg because it would make ME happy. so i started again and summer ***** is a lot longer than it's orignial self and i haven't touched that version since i started this one oops kjwsafhkasjk

tbf technicallyyyyyyy billy dies like. one day after he figures out he's knocked up. so it's like. is it really mpreg? but then the time travel fix it part comes into effect and it's like yeahhhhh it fuckin is.

uhhh billy max and neil make it to the quarry, billy and daryl are barely on each others rader until the claimers, but they get close after that. get even closer after rick dies, and billy refuses to let daryl move out to his little camp of loneliness alone. don't get together till like 11 yrs into the apocolypse aka reaper era baby!

Billy’s still in bed when Daryl gets in from watch.

“You good?” he asks, unbuttoning his shirt and roughhousing with Dog, who's bouncing around now that there's someone to play with.

“Yo, you good?” he asks again when Billy doesn't reply, throwing his shirt at him.

He still doesn't answer, so Daryl makes his way over to Billy’s unofficial side of the bed, scratching Dog’s ears from where he’s jumped up to lay with him, his head resting on Billy’s hip, and squats down on the ground a bit.

“‘Sup?” he says, ‘cause he’s never gonna be good at this relationship shit, and it’s still so fucking new–barely weeks old–but he knows he wants to fucking try.

Billy huffs a laugh, then his face closes off again, and he tells him to fuck off.

“Fuckin’ burnin’ daylight, man,” he says, not really knowing what else to say. For as lazy as Billy claims to be, he’s never really been the type to lay around all day, even when they had the luxury of it.

Somethin’ ain’t right. Daryl can feel it.

“Feel sick,” Billy finally mumbles out.

Daryl’s seen Billy fight in wars, covered in blood and bruises and guts, then try and build a dollhouse the next day, all because Holly, Judith, and Gracie asked. Seen him throw up from concussions, walk miles and miles and miles on a sprained ankle, carry multiple backpacks with broken ribs, and do it all with barely a flicker of pain crossing his face.

He feels his heart drop, because if Billy's sick, and sick enough to stay in bed and admit to it, then he’s probably fuckin’ already dead.

“You bit?” Daryl rushes, ripping the quilt cover off him, only for Billy to grip it tight and pull it back up.

“Not fucking bit, jesus christ,” he yells, lifting his head off the pillow finally. “‘The fuck would I be laying here for, if I was fuckin’ bit?”

“Hell would I know! You're the one in bed whingin’ ‘bout bein’ sick,” Daryl throws back, leaning back against the wall, still squating.

Billy doesn't bother replying again, just pulls the quilt up higher then sniffles hard.

“You like, regular sick? Or bad sick?” Daryl questions after they've both been silent for a while. Doesn't even expect Billy to reply, but for once, Daryl can't take the quiet.

“Depends,” Billy says thickly, then swallows like he’s trying not to cry.

Daryl waits him out, but Billy seems to not give a fuck that he’s currently keeping him on the verge of a heart attack, and doesn't elaborate.

“Give me somethin’ to work with here, man,” Daryl basically begs.

Billy brings a hand up to his face and rubs roughly at his eyes, Dog jumping off to sit in between Daryl’s legs, before he sits up slowly. He bends his knees slightly and leans forward to rest his arms on them, then lets his head drop forward but turns his face to look at Daryl. Dog rests his head on the edge of the bed, looking up at him.

“Threw up most the night, which, whatever, fine. Super chill. Except for the fact I threw up most the night before, too. And the night before that, and the night fucking before that, and basically all last week, and everytime I eat, I feel sick, and fucking everything’s making me nauseous, and right now the smell of Dog might actually kill me, and I swear to fucking god, Daryl, if you knocked me the fuck up–” he chokes, swiping at his eyes and breathing heavily, “you’ll be hearing from my fucking laywers,” Billy ends with, looking suddenly fucking exhausted.

Daryl’s brain short circuits, and he finally slides down the wall to sit properly on the floor, stroking Dog’s back absentmindedly.

“Who the fuck are your lawyers?” he starts with, before shaking his head. Magna, probably. Kelly, too. “That ain’t fuckin’ possible. We’re guys. Don’t got the equipment for that shit.”

Except, there’s been rumours and stories for months now, maybe even years. Of guys getting pregnant. Most dying before reaching full term, body not quite adapting to it the way it should. He’s only heard one story of it being successful and the baby and dad surviving. Two, if you count the one where only the baby made it. Feels lightheaded at the possibility of it, and can feel the heat and sweat prickle his skin.

“Yeah, well. Welcome to the apocalypse. Evolution’s a bitch,” Billy states plainly, throwing his hand out loosely before hanging his head between his arms.

Dog jumps up then, nudging his head forward to lick Billy’s face, and Billy dry heaves on the spot. Daryl quickly grabs Dog and pulls him down, and watches Billy pull himself back together, mask back on.

Billy looks up at Daryl, eyes wet but face emotionless, and shrugs. “So. That’s where we’re at right now.”

Daryl doesn't reply this time. Doesn't have a fucking clue what to say. Can count on one hand how many times him and Billy have even had sex, because this shit’s new, and so so fucking fragile, and now–

Now, Billy could be staring down the barrel of a gun for the next nine months, and no one's gonna be able to pull him out of the line of fire.

“Can we just like–get rid of it?” Daryl asks, ‘cause surely thats fuckin’ safer than whatever this could turn into.

“Jerry said that the couple that stopped by the Kingdom tried that. Still died,” Billy sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Body doesn't know what the fuck it’s doing. Just gotta–” he stumbles, taking in a deep breath before continuing, “just gotta let it run it's course. See what fucking happens,” he finishes, voice cracking and eyes glassy.

They sit there, then, the only sound being Dog panting from his spot lying beside Daryl on the floor. Billy eventually lays back down and pulls the covers up, facing the ceiling. Daryl sits there a moment longer, then pushes himself up. Can't really deal with the possibility of Billy dying–of being the reason he’s gonna die. Grabs his shirt from where it’s fallen to the ground and shrugs it back on.

“The hell are you going?” Billy asks, watching Daryl pour some dog food in Dog’s bowl before heading towards the stairs.

“I need a fuckin’ minute,” he throws over his shoulder, then walks out.

If he had known that that was gonna be one of the last times he’d ever see Billy alive, he never would've left. Would've gotten into bed with him instead, told him some shit about how it was gonna be okay, that they’d work it out. It wouldn't even be bullshit, ‘cause Daryl would've done anything for it to be true.

Instead, he walks out onto the street, finds himself getting dragged into the plan to deal with the Reapers, and by the time he sees Billy next, it’s too late.

He watches Billy die a night later.

They’re running.

Daryl can feel the trees flying past, his lungs on fire, and the Reapers gaining ground. Thinks, he can’t fucking die yet. Billy’ll fucking kill him. He’s still got shit to do. He focuses forward and sees Maggie a ways ahead, Negan somewhere off to his side, and knows it’s gonna be close.

Can hear Billy’s voice in his head, yelling about how this was a stupid fucking plan.

As far as he’s concerned, it’s the only fucking plan.

They slow down eventually, after they’ve put some distance between them and the ones chasing them, and stop in a clearing. Maggie’s already there and waiting, bent over and trying to catch her breath.

“Think we’re clear?”

Daryl takes a second to look behind him, having not heard anything for at least the last few miles, and shoots her a grim look. He can’t be sure. The Reapers were always good at coming out of fucking nowhere.

Negan stumbles in a moment later, and they all take a minute to get themselves sorted and figure out the next best course of action.

“Probably should’ve gone with the kid’s plan, ‘cause this shit? This shit is not fucking working,” Negan complains, leaning against a tree. “I don’t run for my Iife, okay, people run from me.”

“Shut the fuck up, man,” Daryl says, barely sparing him a glance, before taking in where they are. “We’re still too close, gotta move. Let’s go.”

They barely make it a foot out of the clearing before the Reapers are surrounding them from all sides. One comes up behind Maggie and drags her into the middle, another herding Negan in close, and two more close in on Daryl.

“Found this one by himself,” they hear from behind, and Daryl feels dread settle in his veins. They all struggle to turn, trying to shake off the hands holding them in place, and once turned, Daryl feels his entire body stop. Looks at the struggling body being held captive by Pope–taking in the hood over their head, the rings on their fingers, the shitty tattoo on their wrist, and the way they refuse to stay fucking still, even when completely in the shit–and he knows. “One of yours, I presume?”

He hears Maggie let out a sob from beside him, and Negan let out a quiet ‘well, shit.’

“What was the plan, may I ask, because you have to know we’re smarter than this.” Pope questions.

This wasn’t the fucking plan, Daryl wants to yell. They vetoed this plan. Billy pitched it, tried to bang on about how he could bait the Reapers out and buy them all some time, and him and Maggie fucking benched him for it.

He should be back at Alexandria and in bed, because he’s sick.

Not here, in the middle of the fucking woods–in the middle of fucking Reaper territory–with some old fuck gripping him around the throat and some other freak holding an honest to god grim reaper axe behind his back.

Billy shouldn’t be here right now, is all his mind can think.

Daryl looks at him and suddenly feels the weight of their unfinished conversation from yesterday sit heavy on his chest. Billy said he was basically already dead, and Daryl fucking walked. Had to, ‘cause he knew he wasn't thinking clearly. His mind going ‘round in circles trying to figure out how to salvage this mess. Knows that the only thing walking out did was piss Billy off, but fuck. It felt like the smartest choice at the time. What did Billy expect? Daryl to handle that shit rationality? Like him dropping the fact that he was pregnant–a fucking death sentence in this world–and that he was going to lose him, was something he could just roll with.

He needed a fucking minute.

Shit, he still needs a fucking minute.

Looking at him now, Daryl realises there's a chance he’s gonna lose him anyway.

“Just–please…” Maggie starts, knowing damn well they have no bargaining power.

Pope casts a look at the guy holding the axe beside him, and Daryl barely has a second to prepare himself before the axe is sticking out of Billy’s chest, his muffled screams bouncing off the trees.

“No!” Maggie yells, and Daryl feels like this has to be a nightmare. Like if he could just wake up, it would be yesterday, and he could do the day right.

He just needs to go back to yesterday, and wake the fuck up.

Pope takes that moment to rip the hood off Billy’s head, then yank the improvised mouth gag off as well. Billy stumbles forward a bit, adjusting to the small amount of light, before Pope pulls him back roughly and he has to scramble to get his feet under himself.

Daryl sees the moment he realises how fucked he is. Watches his eyes widen when he sees them all lined up in front of him, his eyes scanning the clearing and finding all the Reapers scattered around. He looks down at his chest then, taking in the axe that’s poking out, and looks back up.

“Think both our plans were shit, to be fair,” he chokes out, and Daryl’s actually gonna kill him, when they all survive this.

If they all survive this.

“We’re not here to make a deal with you, or to come to an agreement. You killed some of ours, now we’ll kill one of yours. Not the fairest of trades, but it’ll do for tonight.” Pope narrates, and Daryl barely has time to blink before another Reaper is stepping out of the dark, pulling out a sword. He hears more than sees what happens next, and is lunging forward to get to Billy before he can stop himself.

Negan yanks him back at the last second, somehow breaking free from his own hostage holder, and Daryl can only watch on as the sword now buried straight through Billy’s gut drips fresh blood, piercing him from behind. Billy screams, loud and unforgiving and shaking the whole damn forest, his legs giving out. Pope’s grip holds strong, though, and Billy doesn’t even have a chance to fall. He lets out another yell as he gets his feet under him, the weapons in his chest and torso pulling, and stares at the growing blood stain over his stomach, his shoulders jerking like he’s doing everything he can to free his arms.

Daryl can’t fucking breath.

The entire forest is silent except for Billy’s cries of pain, and his own and Maggie’s crying. Didn’t even know he was crying, until now.

Slowly, Billy looks up at him, his face fucking shattered.

Daryl knows then and there that this is it. Can see the grief in his eyes, like he’s already begging for forgiveness, and suddenly Daryl’s fucking furious.

He wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight. Maggie already told him exactly what she thought of his plan, and Daryl went off at him the second she finished.

It was a shitty fucking plan.

And if he had just fucking listened, he would be safe right now.

He would be home.

Billy coughs up some blood then, and all the anger drains right back out of him.

“It’s okay,” Billy chokes out, tears streaming down his face and trying to smile around the blood pooling in his mouth and dripping down his chin. “I’m okay.”

He coughs again, and Daryl wants to tell him to stop talking, to save his breath, but can’t make his mouth move. Negan’s still holding him back, and Daryl knows if he let go, he’d fucking sink. He swallows roughly, feeling himself leaning into Negan more heavily, refusing to break eye contact with Billy.

“I’ll be right behind you, promise,” Billy says, or tries to, more blood than voice, and Daryl only knows he said it ‘cause he knows him.

Daryl finally feels his mouth move.

Manages to push Billy’s name past his lips before Pope pulls him back up tall and clears his throat.

“Any last words?” He asks, dragging a hook like weapon up to Billy’s throat, and Billy’s on his tippy-toes now, trying to escape the pressure of it, eyes fucking terrified.

The Reapers that were holding them in place seem to step back in sync, and Daryl rolls out his now free shoulder, Maggie falling to her knees.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Negan breathes out, sounding genuinely fucked up. He pulls Daryl back, though, and reaches a hand out to pull at Maggie, too.

Billy’s eyes flick to him, and Daryl sees him give Negan a ghost of a nod, his face finally finding some peace.

Pope smiles at them, then starts dragging Billy away by the hook, Billy stumbling to keep his neck up and his feet moving, the blade ready to slit his throat at the slightest misstep. Daryl watches until he can’t see them anymore, dread filling his stomach at the knowledge that Billy’s gonna die alone; with no one there to hold his hand, no one to comfort him in his last moments. Knows it was one of the only fears he had left–dying alone.

He tries to push down the ugly part of him, born out of years of watching his loved ones die, that's relieved that he doesn't have to see it this time.

Negan pulls at him once the last of the Reapers have disappeared, Maggie already up and waiting with an outstretched hand.

They run.

Billy’s screams start back up a minute later, and after putting enough distance between them and the enemy, they stop and duck behind a fat as fuck tree, and listen to his final moments. It’s the closest they can get to being there for him, he thinks. Billy’s screams go on for what feels like eternity, before cutting off abruptly, like someone turned the lights out. Maggie’s gripping his hand, and he thinks he lets out a sob. Can feel her bury her head in his shoulder, her small frame shaking, and he realises he’s shaking just as much.

“We gotta move,” Negan says, breaking the silence after a minute, sounding like he actually regrets it.

Daryl casts one last look over his shoulder, before letting Maggie pull him forward.

They’ll come back in the morning to find his body, and make sure he gets put to rest. Daryl won’t let him become another Rick.

Daryl splits back to Alexandria, even though Maggie tries to convince him to come back to Hilltop, telling him she doesn't want him to be alone, then changing tactics and saying it isn't safe to split up yet. Daryl shrugs her off, and by the time he makes it home, he feels completely numb. He takes one look at the empty and cold bed, with its sheets and quilt cover half falling off–exactly the way Billy left it, and turns right back around. Dog spends the first five minutes jumping all over him, excited to see him, before picking up that something’s wrong, and by then Daryl can't really keep his shit together. He makes himself at home on the front porch, legs stretched out long in front of him and Dog resting his head on his leg, running a calming hand up and down his back, and then–he fucking breaks.

Wishes with everything he has in him that he could go back to yesterday, to do everything all over again, or maybe back to a few weeks ago, so they never get themselves into that situation in the first place.

Thinks, if he could just do everything again, he’d save everyone.

Wakes up the next morning to Dog licking his face and Negan standing above him, a bottle of water outstretched towards him.

“Time to go,” he says, looking like hell. “Let’s go find the kid.”

Daryl accepts the drink and pushes himself up.

Time to bring Billy home.

THANKS FOR LISTENING IF U MADE IT THIS FAR i have had FUN sorry for literally all of this i love you

#msgs <3 #lucdarling

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raplinesmoon · 3 years

Text

The Library of Our Love {KNJ x GN!Reader} - Oneshot

“My library is an archive of longing.” - Susan Sontag

“Did you figure out that I’m a book after I met you? Or did you turn my page?”

- 방탄 소년단, Outro: Her

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Gender-Neutral Reader

Genres: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort… I’m sorry in advance for hurting u

AUs: college students!AU

Word Count: ~4.6k

Themes: strangers-bestfriends-(maybe)lovers, unrequited love, pining, the slowest of slow burns (to the point where the fire almost goes out)

Warnings: some mentions of blood and violence, vandalism, strong language, negative self-image and feelings of depression/sadness, excessive consumption of gummy bears (don’t do it pls)

Ratings: sfw, pg13

Summary:

From this day forth, the rules set out by the users of the study table should be:

This table shall only be populated by one Kim Namjoon and one ___, all others must ask for permission before using the premises.

Albert L. Lehringer’s word is the supreme law of the land.

The library is for learning only, not for falling in love.

Oops.

Please picture this Namjoon.

Shoutouts: Thank you to @papillonsgf for being my #1 supporter and baji and designing the most gorgeous banner known to humankind 💞And Eva @dinamitae for being the sweetest last minute beta reader I could’ve asked for 😊 Also, I have to give a big shoutout to all the writers on Tumblr: I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for inspiring me to put my feelings down on paper, and for touching my heart with your beautiful stories.

A/N: This is my first time writing any kind of fiction whatsoever, so please be kind 🙈This fic is deeply personal to me because all of the events portrayed actually happened in my life (with creative liberties). As a result, please do not plagiarize bc that would make me big sad 🥺 I hope you enjoy reading it!! And yes, every vignette is titled with the Dewey Decimal number of the section where you can find that topic (bc I am a nerd)!

Crossposted to AO3 here.

Glossary:

Albert L. Lehringer: the dude who wrote my college biochem textbook

Kal-guksu: Korean knife-cut noodle soup dish

시조 (sijo) (pronounced SHEE-jo): a form of Korean poetry similar in format to the haiku. Originally intended as songs that can represent romantic, metaphysical, or spiritual themes.

Theodicy: the vindication of divine goodness and providence in the view of the existence of evil

Incunabulum: Latin for “place of birth”, or “beginning”. Also one of the earliest forms of a printed book.

523.66: Cosmic Impact

Lee? Lehman?

You flit through your mind trying to remember the author of the supplemental textbook Dr. Kang had recommended to you. The 6th floor of the library is cold; a steady draft seeps in from the slightly open windows. Shrouded in obscurity, all the science books are clustered together into one dark corner among tall, looming shelves.

Lehringer!

Aha, there it was! You eye your target and move towards the shelf at the end of the aisle, eyes focused. Like a predator honed in on its prey, you lose all awareness of your surroundings. Pressing your books to your chest, you pounce towards it when suddenly a large shadow obscures your path. Ramming into a hard, firm chest, you fall back into space, books tumbling everywhere. A sturdy, muscular arm reaches out to grab you.

“Oh gosh! I’m so sorry, are you alright? I wasn’t looking where I was going, I tend to be super clumsy, no wonder my friends call me the God of Destruction.”

The tall stranger beams down at you, two tiny corresponding craters forming in his cheeks as he stares fondly.

“Again, I’m super sorry. Were you also looking for Dr. Lehringer’s Principles of Biochemistry text?”

He reaches it easily, lifting it off the shelf and passing it into your waiting hands. You open it to peruse when you are again interrupted by his dulcet timbre.

“I’m Namjoon, by the way. I figure the least I could do is tell you my name after almost knocking you over.”

“Kim Namjoon? You wouldn’t happen to sit at the very front of Dr. Kang’s fundamentals class, would you?”

His smile widens, turning his eyes into crescent moons, as he timidly rubs the back of his neck with his right hand.

“Now how would you happen to know that?”

“I’m ____, I sit in the middle row. You’re very tall, you know. I can’t see the board half the time.”

A blush colors his cheeks as a sheepish grin falls over his face. He stares down at a speck on the floor. He looks like a scolded puppy, utterly bewildered and completely adorable.

“I- , I’m so sorry, I had no idea. I can move seats maybe, or try and slouch a little bit, even though I know that’s bad for my posture and I’m too young to be having back pain, oh gosh, I can’t believe this, I always thought I felt someone staring at the back of my head - “

“Hey, it’s alright, I was just joking. Thanks for grabbing the book for me, maybe I’ll see you in class sometime?”

“____. Yes, of course, I’ll see you around!”

He waves and strides down the aisle, disappearing out of sight. A steady gust of wind enters through the window, and you hear something flutter. Whether it’s the pages of your open book or the drumming of your heartbeat in your chest, you can’t begin to tell.

177.42: Ethics of friendship

Staring down the endless rows of wooden tables, each illuminated by an antique brass lamp, you spot a lone figure sitting at the farthest one, glasses perched on his nose and his entire being buried in the Principles textbook as though his life depends on it.

Suddenly, you feel restless. Dr. Kang’s midterm examination was looming over the next day, and you knew Namjoon would already be on top of preparing considering you had noticed him sitting at the same table every day since your encounter mere weeks ago.

I’m just going to sit down and ask him if I can study there, you mused. Maybe we can bounce ideas off of each other? A study partner, that’s all. A fellow lover of learning, a devotee of discovery, a paramour of perusal.

So then why did your heart lurch like you were free-falling from 10,000 feet above?

You can do this, just walk up to him and ask if you can use the table.

“Namjoon?” His head turns at the sound of your voice, and a heart-stopping smile illuminates his face. “Do you mind if I sit here and try to study for Dr. Kang’s course too? We can ask each other questions if we’re stuck.”

“Did you read my mind? I was just wishing I had a friend to talk things over with. Sadly, my roommate, Hoseok, is a dance major, so he doesn’t quite understand how to predict dihedral angles based on chemical shift data.”

“Make yourself comfortable,” he beams, pushing aside the pile of books, multicolored pens, and gummy bears. “We have a long night ahead of us.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You feel a warm hand press on your shoulder and blearily gaze up to find Namjoon’s concerned visage gazing at you from across the table.

“Hey there, are you alright? It’s almost 1am, the library’s gonna close soon.”

You blink, trying to remember the events of the past eight hours. Both of you made a brilliant team, working through the problems for the exam expertly and efficiently. Along the way, you fell deep into conversations about not only the equilibrium governing every reaction in the book but also the thin and delicate strings of matter that made up your lives thus far.

Namjoon waits patiently for you to find your bearings, as you hastily shove books and papers into your backpack. He slides the bag of gummy bears in your direction.

“Take one, for good luck tomorrow. Or maybe three. Or you don’t have to take any, they’re probably bad for you and I don’t want you to have a toothache before the exam. Just let me walk home with you?”

The two of you stumble out into the chilly fall air, following the stark lamplight lighting up the way back to the on-campus apartments.

At the point where your paths diverge, Namjoon spins on his heel to take in your retreating figure.

“HEY ___! See you after Kang’s exam tomorrow? Same time, same place?”

“See you then!”, you grin, whirling quickly so he can’t see the devastatingly wide grin that consumes your entire face.

135.30: interlude_dream, Reality

The dim rays of the afternoon sun.

A checkered blanket under the shadow of an oak tree.

The crinkle of a plastic bag full of copious amounts of Haribo gummy bears.

A tall stack of books that had tumbled over onto the grass.

His dimpled smile and eyes that turned into tiny moons --

You’re jolted awake from your reverie by the droning of hushed voices and furtive conversations in the library basement. Blearily rubbing at your eyes and massaging your temples, you fight the stiffness in your joints that is urging you to sit up from your resting position on the couch which occupies the far corner of the main room. All too suddenly, your tired mind sharpens, catching wind of a conversation that is happening just a few feet away.

“Hyung, I know it happened so suddenly, and we only met just a few months ago, but I’m starting to feel something. We’ve been spending more and more time together and I feel like I’m falling harder and harder.”

You freeze. That voice. You would recognize the melodic timbre of the man who you’ve been studying alongside in the library for months now from across campus.

A high-pitched laugh echoes in response, squeaking like the windshield wipers on a car in the middle of a downpour.

“Yah, Namjoon-ah, don’t tell me you’re in love? You, who’s always been focused on his studies. They must be something special.”

Your exhausted body is on the brink of keeling over as your pulse quickens. Your stomach ties itself into a knot, and heat rushes to your cheeks. Who are they talking about?

“Hyuuuuung, it’s not like that yet. We’re just good friends for now.”

You redden in response to the term “friends for now”, as you hear the bashful lilt to Namjoon’s voice. Could it be possible? You dare to dream, just this once.

“So, what do you plan to do about it? This is your last year here, you know that right?”

“I’ll think of something, Hyung. I don’t know if I can last so long without saying how I really feel. But what if they don’t feel the same way?”

I do, you silently scream as you desire to break down the walls of their intimate conversation. I do feel the same way, I have for a while now.

The loud scraping of chairs and closing of books force you to halt your inner monologue, signaling that it’s time to head to your next class. You’re left dazed and confused, yet with a blissful smile on your face, as you see Namjoon and Seokjin exit the library, their backs turned to you.

You feel buoyant as you stand, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Exiting the library, the world seems effervescent and hazy with a new rose-colored filter, mirroring the pink of your gums as you smile brightly, ready to take on the day ahead with renewed fervor.

641.86: Just desserts

Whoever thought there should be a specific day devoted to love was the silliest person alive, in your opinion. How could they reduce a force as wonderful and as powerful, as full of tenderness and adoration, to a mere day full of hearts and flowers? Love was beyond that, it was something that could take a person and erode all their harsh lines, their straight angles, and make them soft and pliable.

Ever since you had overheard his conversation in the library basement, you and Namjoon had only become closer, spending your days and nights at the same table, laughing at each others’ jokes, crying under the weight of exhaustion, and opening up to each other about anything and everything.

You had never thought you could feel this way, never thought that someone would find you riveting enough to share more than a five-minute conversation with, let alone spend hours of their life in your presence. Your friends were well aware of your feelings towards Namjoon, urging you to explore the possibility of something more. They knew all too well how guarded you kept your heart in terms of romance, preferring instead to bask under the gentle glow of friendship than to ever submit yourself to the blinding passion of opening up your heart and soul entirely to another.

You trekked nervously to the main study room, protecting the small box in your hands with your entire being. Valentine’s Day may have been silly and trite, but you weren’t going to miss the perfect excuse to offer Namjoon a gift of appreciation under the guise of fondness that everyone seemed to be partaking in today.

He’s waiting for you with a smile, as always. You look down, unable to hide the blush that colors your face from your temples to your forehead.

“Happy Valentine’s Day ____! Too bad we’re spending it in the library, instead of out on dates with someone, right?”

“I guess so, although I don’t really mind wasting away in the library if it’s with someone like you.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen and his smile grows even wider.

“Let’s call it a date, then. We can stop halfway through and grab something to eat from the new place that opened right by West Campus. I heard they make a pretty mean kal-guksu,” he winks.

This is too much, you think. Too much all at once, and yet not enough. Your silly gift seems like an outlandish display of affection now, compared to his completely chill offer of grabbing a meal together.

Reel it in, your brain tells you. Play it off. He probably likes chill, prefers it that way. Why would he go out of his way with you, when you see each other every day? When he’s never done it before?

No! You fight your subconscious, remembering that fateful conversation in the basement that changed everything between the two of you. He said he wants something more, that he’s falling for me.

“Namjoon, I made some cupcakes and cookies for y-, for us to share. Maybe we can wallow in our loneliness -” you blink, faltering as you press your lips together. You weakly offer up the box, ripping off the “for you, my favorite study partner” tag quietly underneath the table.

Why couldn’t you just be honest? You were friends, why did everything have to become so complicated?

Namjoon doesn’t seem to catch onto your face falling, doesn’t seem to hear the sound of your heart dropping in your chest. His dimples become etched into his face as he grins from ear-to-ear.

“Every day, I thank the supreme power known as Albert L. Lehringer himself for letting me bump into you on the 6th floor. Where else could I have found such a kind, considerate, beautiful study partner who bakes the best red velvet cupcakes on campus?”

You gape, jaw becoming slack. Beautiful, he said. He’d never called you beautiful before. Your heart swells on the inside.

“Yah, you and that smart mouth of yours, Namjoon. Just keep quiet and eat your cupcake, we have work to do,” you answer back sarcastically, your own grin mirroring his.

Maybe your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you after all.

165.19: Fallacies, or errors in judgment

Spring. The season of rebirth and renewal. Flowers blossomed and birds chirped as the campus came alive again, leading you and Namjoon to spend more and more of your time outdoors.

Currently, the two of you were curled up on a checkered blanket underneath the big oak tree on campus, your biochem classes having finally eased their loads, leaving you to ponder on your philosophy term paper and Namjoon to pore over his Korean literature homework.

“Have you ever heard of 시조 (sijo), ____? It’s meant to be songs written as poetry, mimicking the current tune of whatever your mind is feeling.”

“Really Namjoon? That sounds fascinating. And what would be the current tune you have in your head?”

Namjoon bends his head downwards, unable to make eye contact.

“You know the pre-grad formal?” he mutters, his normally deep voice becoming no more than a whisper.

“Yeah, what about it?”, you question, as butterflies suddenly convene in your chest and the din of your heartbeat becomes louder.

“I- um, well I-, I- was thinking of asking Seolhee. You know Ahn Seolhee, that girl that sits at the table on the other end of the library? She’s in one of my chem electives, and I joined the Chemistry as Art club because she’s president and we’ve been talking more and more this semester. I don’t really know what I feel towards her, but I feel like it could be something. I guess asking her to the formal is the only way to figure it out, right?” he’s rambling now, redness staining his cheeks as he talks about her. Seolhee.

Your heart stops, and the roaring in your ears becomes louder.

Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

Of course, Namjoon had a life outside your library. Of course, he had friends that weren’t you. Of course, he would like pretty Seolhee, leader of a sorority on campus, president of so many clubs, and recently accepted to the university’s Ph.D. program in Biochemistry that would be starting in the fall. She was bubbly and beautiful, friendly to everyone she met, wearing her heart on her sleeve and with nothing short of a smile on her face all the time.

Not like you, who had recently been accepted to a post-baccalaureate program because you’d failed to get into medical school this time around, while Namjoon was waiting on the results of his many interviews.

Not like you who didn’t have any popularity or accomplishments to boast about because you’d been slowly exhausting yourself day and night in the library, poring over labs and problem sets, having to work twice as hard to prove you were just as brilliant.

Not like you, who kept their heart under lock and key because how could you complain when all you’d ever loved and wanted was the man who spent every day in the wooden chair across from you?

“___?” Namjoon interrupts the whirlwind of thoughts that are running through your mind. “Are you listening? I was just saying, Jin-hyung’s date from his MBA program fell through, you guys should go together, we’d all have fun!”

You nod, blinking back tears.

Spring. The season where new life blooms, yet storms brew, washing away everything in their wake.

214.06: Theodicy

One month. It’d been one month since the revelation which had caused your daydreams to come crashing down.

Two weeks. It’d been two weeks since you had gone to the formal, hiding your pain behind laughter as you were forced to look at Namjoon and Seolhee gazing at each other, touching each other, dancing with each other, drunk on champagne and in their affection. Jin had found you back then, curled up on the floor in the marble-walled bathroom of the fancy manor hosting the event. He’d taken you straight home, Namjoon oblivious to your disappearance.

You hadn’t been back to the library since. Instead, you claimed a table in the busy student center, among the smell of brewing coffee, raucous conversation, and shrill pop music. Your hands feel clammy. Your head is pounding.

You long for the warm glow of antique brass lamps, the crinkle of a packet of gummy bears being opened, and the melodious laugh of a man with dimples deeper than the craters on the moon.

Focus, you chastised yourself. This term paper won’t write itself.

Theodicy. The vindication of divine goodness and providence given the existence of evil. Why bad things happen to good people. Why suffering can be justified.

You feel sick to your stomach, jolting as the tears flooded your eyes, abandoning your books and coffee behind you.

The door of the bathroom stall slams behind you as you sink to the floor.

616.025: Medical emergencies

Thanking the reference librarian for their help in finding the materials you needed for your final papers, you make your descent down the back staircase of the library. It’s usually abandoned around sunset, most people preferring to use the main entrance closer to the dorms. You shiver at the chill the night air brings, wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself.

You see red and rainbow shards of the once beautiful, but now broken, stained glass alcove before you see him.

Namjoon is slumped against the wall, eyes shut tight and chest heaving. His knuckles have been ripped apart and stained with blood dripping onto the floor as his sobs echo.

You rush to his side.

“Namjoon, Namjoon, please look at me. What happened?”

Namjoon doesn’t open his eyes to see that it’s you, instead retreating further into himself, like a small child, his sobs growing into wails.

“Kim Namjoon! It’s me, _____. Please, please, I need to know if you’re alright. We need to get you to a bathroom or something,” you’re sobbing now too, heart shattering at seeing him so bruised and broken. You sling his arm around your shoulder and drag him into the staff bathroom close to the alcove.

You toil to distract yourself from the pain both of you are feeling. You open your backpack and take out the pack of tissues and the box of band-aids you always kept on hand for when the now defeated man in front of you had a bout of clumsiness and knocked into the edge of a table or cut himself on one of Kang’s 100-page problem sets. You take his hands in yours, washing them gently with soap and water.

Slowly, Namjoon opens his eyes to stare at you, fat tears dripping down his face.

“Fuck, ____. It just all fucking fell apart, I don’t even know what happened. The-, the-, interviews, and I thought I was doing so well…” he trails off.

Your mind is only half listening, as your temples begin to throb.

Rejection, you hear.

“And fucking Seolhee, she told me she was just fucking around, trying to use me to catch the attention of some other guy…”

Rejection, you hear, and your vision turns cloudy and red, like the water mixed with blood that has smeared in the sink.

“And then I was looking for you everywhere ___. I needed you, but you weren’t there. You’ve always been there.”

You can’t take this.

“Stop, Namjoon. Stop it right now. What do you mean you were looking for me? All you had to do was find me. I would’ve dropped everything for you. Yes, rejection fucking hurts, but you can’t do shit like this. How is punching a fucking window the right reaction huh? Why didn’t you trust me, why didn’t you tell me?” your voice wavers as it begins to rise in octaves, finally spilling out all the pain and resentment that you’ve been feeling since that spring day froze over into a meadow of frost.

“What the hell would you know about rejection ___?”, Namjoon clenches his jaw, a vein in his neck bulging as he throws out the accusation.

“You can’t mean that Namjoon, you seriously can’t fucking mean that.” Your tears are falling onto the floor now too, mixing with the bloodstains.

For a moment, you think you see a look of understanding flash across Namjoon’s face. For a moment, you think he might’ve been able to access your memories of the past months, ones that now mirror his own.

However, the look is now gone, and you’re left wondering if your mind is playing tricks on you again. Instead, the look is replaced by hurt and despair that color Namjoon’s face.

“I’m sorry ___. I’m so fucking sorry,” the door swings as he runs out of the bathroom, leaving you to wonder how his shredded knuckles that are still embedded with glass slashed open the wounds that had begun to heal in your heart.

124.73: Teleology, or the end of things

“Mom? Dad? I’ll be back in a little bit, I just need to say one last goodbye to some people I saw at the library,” you lie.

The library is closed today. Everyone is out on the campus green rejoicing, celebrating the hard work of the past 4 years. Still, your heart would feel incomplete without bidding adieu to the place that had been your second home over the past year, the place that still held the remnants of your love for Namjoon.

The door to the main study room is open. Strange. It creaks as you push it further open, taking in the rows of identical rectangular tables, the wooden chairs that made your back ache, and the brass lamps that lit up the darkest of your nights.

There’s someone here. The lonely figure of a tall, lithe man in a crisp white dress shirt with a black tie, navy gown draped over it. He’s slumped over the table that was once shared between the two of you.

He looks up as he hears your footsteps approaching.

“Hey,” he says, mustering a weak smile. “We made it.”

“Congratulations, Namjoon”, you whisper quietly, unable to tell if he can hear you.

You make a gesture to leave when he catches you by surprise one last time.

“___? Can I ask one last favor of you?” he extends his hand to you, and you shy into yourself.

“Please?”, Namjoon’s eyes shrink into the tiny crescent moons you’ve come to know and love.

You take his hand in yours as he lifts you both to stand on top of your table.

“Ready? Hats off in 1-,2-,3!”, both of you throw your hats up to the ceiling, Namjoon’s narrowly missing plonking onto his head as it comes back down. Your face lights up in a smile.

“Hey ____? Thank you, for everything. I’m gonna miss you, and this place, so damn much. I’m sorry we couldn’t enjoy the last few weeks here together.”

“It’s okay Namjoon, I forgive you. I’ll miss you too. Let’s stay in touch, yeah?”

He grins. Those damn dimples. “Yeah.”

You turn on your heel, feeling renewed and restored, leaving him behind as the doors to the library of your love close behind you for the final time.

Epilogue: six years later...

115.17: Time’s arrow

“___! You made it, I’m so glad to see you!” Seokjin’s broad shoulders envelop you into a warm hug. You shoot Hoseok, Namjoon’s former roommate, a warm smile from across the room. It’s been too long.

“Drinks should be in the cooler over there, feel free to grab some food, and enjoy the party! I’ll be around at some point after I’m done playing host to ask you all about how your final year is going, so don’t you dare try to get out of it!” his thinly veiled threat is punctuated by the sounds of his windshield wiper laughter.

Some things never change.

You settle into a corner with a drink in hand, being swept into a conversation with some of Seokjin’s friends.

“___? Is that you?”

That voice. You are unable to turn, afraid to look him in the eye.

It’s been six years since you’ve seen Namjoon. Six years since you walked out of the library, all the young impulses and the misunderstandings that had distressed your relationship behind you. In that time, you’ve learned to heal others’ hearts as well as your own. You’re no longer as hot-blooded and easily affected by things. You’ve become stronger, and more capable of nurturing your own soul instead of looking to another for fulfillment.

The two of you tried to make good on your promise to keep in touch, but life got in the way. The texts stopped after a year, turning into sporadic well-wishes and wall posts on Facebook. But now he’s here, in the flesh.

“Hi Namjoon,” you spin, facing him. “Long time no see.” You’re surprised at the genuine smile that lights up your face in response to seeing him.

“Same to you. How’s the final year of med school going? I saw your post on Facebook that you’d matched into a program for cardiothoracic surgery. Congratulations, I’m so proud of you,” Namjoon looks upon you with the same fond smile he had the moment he bumped into you on that cold, dark floor of the library so long ago.

“Thanks, Namjoon. How have you been? Seokjin told me you’d recently moved back to the city.”

“Remember 시조 (sijo), ___? The poetry that is supposed to represent -”

“Your current tune,” you finish his sentence for him.

“You remembered,” he says breathlessly. “I’ve been writing recently, not anything professional at all, but just songs and poems. I’m compiling a portfolio to go back to school and get my MFA in Literature and Poetry.”

Tears spring into your eyes. “Namjoon, that’s great, I’m proud of you too.”

“___!” Hoseok ushers you over, “Come join us for a round of beer pong!”

“Namjoon, it was nice seeing you again. Maybe we’ll see each other around sometime.”

“Wait! ___!”, he touches your arm lightly as you turn back around.

A blush colors his cheeks as a sheepish grin falls over his face. He stares down at a speck on the floor.

“There’s a new library that just opened on the corner of 5th and Oak St. I was wondering if you’d like to go check it out sometime?”

For the first time in many years, Namjoon doesn’t make your breath catch in your throat and your pulse begin to race, but instead fills your heart with a deep sense of fondness and contentment. Maybe this library will no longer be an archive of your longings, but an incunabulum of a fresh start.

“I’d like that a lot.”

A/N pt. 2: It’s finished!! I wanted to leave Namjoon and the reader's relationship at the end open to interpretation. I think this fic was more about their feelings than the events that unfolded. I’m not sure I’ll write another story ever, but I’m very proud of this one. Any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway.

With all my love,

Isi 💜

Taglist: @papillonsgf @jinpanman @cutechim @btsarmy9593 @sunshinekims @dinamitae

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