#( but yeah we gotta write again some time!! )

[diorgirl444]

5 times dallas winston hated you and the 1 time he didn’t

warnings: swearing, bad writing! (i haven’t written this long a fanfiction in years so i can’t promise that it’ll be any good), fem! reader, very self indulgent, i definitely made dallas too soft but like there are worst problems out there, weak ending, 2,800 words <3

the first time Dallas Winston decides he hates you is when you’re seven and he’s eight and you sit in front of him in English.

the way your bunches swing is distracting and god do you ever stop asking the teacher questions, he hates girls like you. bubbly, clever and idly he thinks about picking up the scissors which glint on his desk and snip snip sniping those pretty bunches off. why he doesn’t he isn’t sure. any other girl and he would have done but not you.

after careful deliberation, he decides it’s because you’d be a crybaby about it. yeah, that’s right. he’s seen you cry before when some girl stole your favourite cherry-scented eraser. snot and tears coating your face and he definitely doesn’t wanna have to see that again.

gross.

I mean sure he threatened the girl into giving it back to you but that was only to get you to shut up. so no he doesn’t cut your bunches, he just sits behind you and wishes you’d shut up.

the second time he decides he hates you is when you’re ten and he’s eleven and you’re trying to convince your friend not to go to the school dance with him.

I mean he asked the girl out to it on a whim really. he doesn’t like all that school spirit rubbish but he likes dances and she’s pretty. well not as pretty as you are but he heard that you’re going with that Tommy, so it’s only fair.

what isn’t fair though is the way your brows furrow and your nose scrunches up like a little bunny when he sidles up to your friend and asks her.

it’s also not fair that he overheard the two of you talking it over when you both think he’s out of earshot. “look I get that he’s cute but you really oughta think about your future. do you really wanna be known as the girl who went to the dance with Dallas Winston? we gotta think about high school, about our future boyfriends, besides what would your parents think?” he hears your sweet voice say and he feels an awful scrape in his heart.

he tries to push it off, that he’s just angry that you’re spouting out that stupid classist bullshit but if he’s honest it’s more than that. do you really think that little of him? yeah if he didn’t before he definitely hates you now.

this hatred continues on, albeit one-sided, all the way into high school.

you’re not in any of the same classes now as you’re in all that ap shit, he’s just about flunking everything and that’s only when he decides to even attend. but when he’s fourteen and you’re thirteen he gets told that you’re going to tutor him in English and Maths. the school has decided that he should at least pass the basics if nothing else.

he debates ditching, why he doesn’t he’s not sure but as he slips into the seat beside you and is hit with a waft of your heady, probably expensive perfume, he wishes he had. god, why can’t you be gross like you were when you were younger? and you have the audacity to smile at him, all softly as he rolls his eyes.

“how long is this gonna take i got places to be” he tells you, it’s a lie, he’s still trying to convince the older gang members to take him seriously.

“well we’ll just focus on getting your homework for the week done and then you’re free to go” you tell him placidly. which kinda irks him, he’d been hoping you’d get angry with him so he’d feel validated for his anger that he still hangs onto toward you.

you work through it all with him carefully. your handwriting is all long and curly beside his short, scratchy script and it makes him feel very stupid. you make him feel stupid. words that should come easy instead bundle together and choke up his throat, his palms sweat onto the darkwash of his jeans leaving embarrassing marks and the way that you can’t stop smiling sweetly at him whilst he forces on a scowl really is the icing on the cake.

that’s the first and last time he attends the pointless tutoring session. he’s a lost cause and the sooner you and the rest of the world all learn that learn that the fucking better.

he drops out of high school the folllowing year and so he doesn’t see you till he decides to hit up some dancehall.

he’s there with some gang buddies as now he no longer wastes time in lessons he’s managed to prove to them how dedicated he is to that lifestyle. the drinking, the brawls, the cars and the girls have dominated his mind so much he’s all but forgotten about you till he sees you there on some jerk's arm.

you’re in the centre of the gym, hair and skirt spinning all around you, the light glinting off your jewellery that probably costs more than his parent's rickety apartment and the widest smile on your face. god, you’re fifteen and you look like a damn film star there in the middle. he really hates you for that. can’t you have an awkward phase like the rest of the fucking world?

he asks some girl with too much makeup on to dance, mainly so that he can cut in when the partners switch and dance with you. and if he’s honest he can’t think up an excuse for why he wants to do that. the fact of which is a punch in the gut. he just wants to dance with you.

“hey, do I know you?” he asks lazily when he finally gets his wish and is spinning you around.

“we were in school together!” you snap huffily and he grins all teeth. you remember him and it makes him feel all kinds of feelings that he’s not used to.

“ah yeah I remember now. you tutored me right?” he says in the same non-committal tone as the music shifts to something softer and his hands snake their way around your waist pulling you in.

“yeah once, you ditched every other session after that. still don’t know why - I don’t think I did anything wrong,” you tell him, bottom lip caught between your teeth. and suddenly he hates himself far more than he hates you.

he can’t believe that you even noticed or were remotely upset that he stopped attending those tutoring sessions.

“nah kid you were perfect, school and that shit just wasn’t for me that’s all” he says voice low, practically whispering as the two of you slow dance.

you hum in understanding and look up at his lips. it dawns on him that you want him to kiss you, the same boy who you once described as the sort that a girl like you should never be seen with.

clearly, you don’t feel that way anymore as in the crowded gym you look up at his lips with long fluttery lashes and hands that toy with the too-long at the scruff of his neck. he has every intention of giving you your wish but he also just wants you to keep looking him and that. but god Dallas Winston never can get what he wants can he? no the universe fucking hates him because just as he’s going to and he gets to feel your delicate breath hitch against his calloused hand his friend's mouth to him across the gym that a fight has broken out.

and so he pulls away and ignores the hurt sheen on your face that is devastatingly familiar to the way you looked when he asked your friend out all those years ago. he hopes this hardens your heart and you hate him too. that’d make everything so much easier.

weirdly you two become sort of friends after that.

he sees you the next morning and you get to talking. he explains why he left early, you both ignore the almost kiss that occurred and end up going out for milkshakes. he pays for yours to make up for his poor form the other night and he teases you relentlessly for your choice of vanilla.

and it’s fun and it’s easy so long as he pretends that you licking the cream off the top doesn’t make his stomach swirl with god knows what. and it’s not like hanging out with his other friends, you don’t want anything from him, you just snort at his rubbish jokes and your knee presses against his beneath the table and it’s just nice.

so he asks if you’re free for the same again next week, he wants to feel this bubbly nice feeling once more. you nod grinning, and it’s not a date but it’s also not not a date. it’s just you and Dallas getting milkshakes being friends who just don’t mention one another to other friends. you’re sixteen and he’s seventeen now. and it’s casual that’s all it is, which is why he only mentions the day of his departure that he’s leaving New York City.

he tells you that the police are on his back which is partly true but it’s mostly that these stupid little trips to the zoo, or to the diner or ice skating in Central Park are making him fool himself into thinking he could be with a girl like you. you said it best all those years ago after all “Do you really wanna be known as the girl who went to the dance with Dallas Winston?”

what he doesn’t anticipate is the tears that fill your pretty eyes.

“you’re being a coward Dall” you tell him sniffly and he mourns that you don’t look gross when you cry anymore or maybe you do and he’s just too hopelessly lovesick to notice anymore, which is exactly the reason why he has to leave.

“I know kid” he agrees, self-deprecatingly. this is for the best, he tells himself, it’s easier if you hate him.

“I wish I’d never got to know you!” you’re shouting tearfully as you stumble out of the cosy diner and it’s what he deserves he reminds himself.

the geriatric waiter smiles empathically as the doorbell chimes and you don’t look back. "don't make a mistake letting a girl like that go son"

"you don't know shit about her and I man, so just keep your damn nose out of it, hear?" Dallas snaps at him defensively before downing his coffee and high-tailing it out of there.

before getting on the train he buys himself a bottle of cheap liquor which he semi-effectively uses as a way to dull the sense of regret that he can't seem to shake. He hates you for leaving him feeling like that, all sad and sappy like some stupid kid heading off for war or something.

that's the only thing he can make himself hate about you now. now he knows how sweet the sound of your laughter is, how you wear the same lavender perfume that your grandmother used to wear in memory of her and how you were the closest to heaven he's ever gonna get.

cheers to that he thinks drunkenly as the train pulls into the station, and cheers he supposes to his new home of Tulsa. fucking hell does his head hurt.

the one time he finally accepts he doesn't hate you is after Johnny dies.

he knows he oughta stay for the rumble but all he can think about is the way you'd let him cry and hold you close. you'd be soft and warm and sweet in his arms and you wouldn't want anything from him.

and he knows suddenly that he doesn't just hate you, no it's more than that it's that he loves you. that he might have always loved you and was just too blind to notice. and that if he had let you, you might have loved him too. so he knows he's gotta go back to you.

he buys the fastest ticket to New York that he can afford and tells Ponyboy whilst shrugging nonchalantly that

"might come, back might not" He thinks that if he can fool Ponyboy into thinking that he doesn't care about how it turns out it means he doesn't care either.

Ponyboy isn't fooled though and neither is Dallas's uneasy heart though both pretend to believe.

The train drive seems to drag by, he's all nervous energy, leg bouncing and chain smoking one cigarette after the other which he ultimately decides was an awful mistake but now he's gonna try to - what's he even trying to do - well whatever it is he's now gonna be doing it reeking of cheap cigarettes.

when the train finally pulls into the station he's practically racing to your apartment, going to frantically knock before holding himself back and instead knocking once on your door. you open it dressed in an eggshell white nightdress and dressing gown and the way you look at him makes him feel like you're not seventeen and he's not almost eighteen and that instead you're seven and he's eight all over again.

god he's a real sucker for you, isn't he? that's ten years of pathetic yearning that he can only hope to remedy now.

"I thought I hated you-" he starts before you interrupt.

"if that's what you came here to say Dallas I really don't wanna hear it"

He shakes his head "No kid it's not what I came here to say. I'm just gonna talk and all you gotta do is keep that pretty mouth shut and give a man a chance to speak, alright?"

you nod and give him a look that says this your one chance don't mess it up Dallas. god, he hopes he doesn't.

"I thought I hated you. As kids I mean I was convinced! convinced that the obsession I had with you was purely cause you annoyed the living crap out of me. Then I heard you talking smack about me to one of your little friends and so then I had an actual reason to hate you. then there was that tutoring session that I had to stop attending because you were so pretty and sweet and smelt so nice so that was too much for me, especially when I was supposed to be hating you. I probably would have forgotten about you though or gotten over it had it not been for that dance. god, you were fucking angelic spinning there in the yellowish light of that grimy gym and I knew I was gonna be spending the rest of my life wishing I could bring myself to hate you. And you know I was right. because I tried getting to know you cause I thought if I got to know you I could maybe hate you but of course, you're little miss butter wouldn't melt in your mouth so I can't hate you. and so I leave thinking that if I could make you hate me and then put space between us I could make myself hate you but that doesn't work either cause you're damn unforgettable so this me trying one last time. I don't hate you, kid, never did never will and if you tell me to go I will too. but if one tiny part of you doesn't hate me either then I guess I did something real good in a past life or something"

He is so busy ranting that he fails to notice that you've been softening as he's been talking, tears been building, and bottom lip bitten to shreds. He does notice the lack of response so he snaps.

“Well?”

"I could never hate you, Dall," you say softly and the world stops spinning for him when you say that.

"Oh," he says dumbly.

"Oh" you agree, half crying and half laughing.

"Okay tell me if I read this all wrong but does that mean I can kiss you kid?" he asks scratching the back of his neck, he doesn't think he's ever had to ask a girl that before.

“Please" is all you have to say before he pulls you into him and presses his lips against yours.

and kissing Dallas Winston is nothing like what you might think it would be like. he kisses you like he'd worshipping you like you're something precious and captivating that oughta to be cradled carefully, you are a diamond to him. pure and rare. and when you pull away to catch your breath you swear he mutters "I love you kid" against your temple.

"I love you " you tell him and he grins like he's been given the moon on a string. if all this hatred ends with you saying things like that softly to him then it may have all been worth it.

yeah he'd do it all again in a heartbeat…

hope you like it! xoxo, flo <3

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

Just saw Kung fu Panda 4.

Well, it was certainly a movie…..

Action was good, music was a banger as always, voice acting was top notch, no surprise there.

That’s all I got positive wise.

[emdotcom]

*remembers what they did to Vanny* 500 FUCKING PIPEBOMB ATTACK.

[keeps-ache]

brrrba pa pa da de do ♩

[deus-and-the-machina]

ffxiv garlemald discourse is so funny because people will go "ugh people just cant stand it when things aren't black and white" and then you look at how the empire are portrayed in stormblood and shadowbringers and its like hm. that seems like a pretty intense and accurate display of violent imperialism to me! Wow I wonder why people in this day and age may find it hard to feel sympathy for them or even hate them on principal. god its such a mystery.

the games like 50/50 to me on how it tackles these themes because I actually like the garlemald arc in EW, I think it has a lot of horrific and powerful scenes depicting how self destructive fascist propaganda and beliefs are, but I also think it doesn't go far enough on some fronts. the garleans' xenophobia is most notably and obstacle to getting them to accept the contingent's help, which is what they're there to do,

but there's never an admission of harm from any garleans on the uuuuuuuuh massive amount of war crimes the nations around them are still suffering from they're just kind of like "we misjudged you...but you actually wanted to help us all along" like yeah thats great now can we get you all some deprogramming because you keep talking about returning to your prime and glory days and I think we need to unpack some stuff you really SHOULDNT return to. im not even really talking about EW proper but the patches where things are a bit more chilled out and people are recovering.

It feels like they wanted to have their critique of imperialism and also have things end with the beauty of human connection and reaching out and these things just don't mesh well because hey a lot of your modern day audience is not gonna like having to treat people yelling xenophobic things at the cast and your character with kid gloves after you showed them hours and hours of the awful things these people's beliefs have done. especially in the present day hoo boy.

[miodiodavinci]

writing out my to-do list for the semester and feeling an overwhelming wave of terrified nausea like ohhhhh this is going to suck so so bad huh

[altruistic-meme]

hi! I totally understand if the answer is no but I’m just curious, do you think you will be continuing “(why is there) joy in this poison”? it’s one of my favorite fics, so I’m just wondering if that’s something you’ve decided to abandon or maybe continue

hi darling! sorry this reply is a few days late but i was on vacation :')

i absolutely DO plan on continuing (wit)jitp!!! i am actually working on both chapter 11 and a bonus chapter for it currently :D i know it's been. *cough* a year. since i've updated it but trust me i have been very very aware of the passing time.

alas, life simply decided to hit me over the head with several various hyperfixations and an additional handful of stressful issues (that i am unfortunately still dealing with some of) that meant that most of the time i just didn't have the energy to write at all and the times i did have energy, i was writing for whichever fandom my brain was actively attached to at that moment, which was simply never aftg.

but yeah! YEAH!! (wit)jitp is definitely getting continued. hopefully soon, but that really depends on a handful of factors so i make no promises. but it IS being worked on actively.

[queenangella]

I think it should be illegal that im expected to do (unpaid cause im just not paid in general) overtime at my job and still have to do my internship papers outside of my hours like honey and you're asking why im goddamn miserable all the fucking time

[actiniumwrites]

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇

synopsis: wriothesley finds out you have a crush on someone and somehow manages to guess it’s on literally everyone but himself

characters: wriothesley x gn!reader

wc: 1.4k

warnings: fluff, a tiny pinch of angst and insecurity, my poor attempt at humor, slight miscommunication, friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, swearing, first time writing for wriothesley so he might be ooc

notes: i almost made this angst to fluff but then decided i need to stop adding angst into literally everything i write (even though there’s like a tiny pinch of angst in here too 🙄). anyway, wriothesley is a lot harder to write than i thought he would be so i apologize if he seems ooc here

“Heard you gotta crush on someone,” Wriothesley teases as he walks into his office where you sit on one of his couches. You don’t even hear him walk in, too engaged in the book you were reading to pass time until you had to go through hundreds of inmate records to find something Neuvillette had requested.

His declaration is so sudden it almost makes you spit out the tea you had stolen from him.

Your eyes go wide as you stare at where he moves to lean against the front of his desk, arms crossed and waiting for an answer with that stupid smirk of his, “Hey now, that tea is expensive, so don’t go wasting it, okay?”

“Who told you about that?” you press for answers, a hint of anger in your voice as you ignore his previous statement about the tea. He had plenty to spare anyway.

Wriothesley’s smirk widens a bit, “So it is true.”

Damn him.

You don’t even bother trying to make an excuse, knowing your best friend all too well. He’d pick apart your words like weeds in a garden, finding meaning in them that you hadn’t even intended.

“And what if it is true?” you cross your arms defensively, glaring at him from across the room.

“At least tell me who it is,” he says as he rests his palms on the wooden desk behind him. When you don’t give in to his pleading, he playfully scoffs, “Oh c’mon, I’m your best friend! It’s kinda an obligation for you to tell me these things.”

You turn away, fixating your gaze on a nearby wall adorned with some weird painting he had hung awhile back, “Oh yeah? Since when? Last I checked there aren’t any rule books for being friends with someone. I don’t have to tell you a damn thing.”

“It’s Neuvillette, isn’t it?” he smiles knowingly. Perhaps that was why you were always the one receiving tasks from the Chief Justice instead of him — a guess at best, but enough evidence to convince him Neuvillette was the one.

No, you idiot. It’s you.

You snap your head back toward him, “What? No! I don’t like Neuvillette…not like that, at least. He’s nice and all, but I don’t think I’d be able to date the guy.”

“Damn, I really thought I had that one,” Wriothesley mumbles in defeat, pushing himself off the desk and instead moving to walk around the room as he thinks. It scares you. The fact that he’s so particular with facts and little details that it’s only a matter of time before he collects all the pieces to the puzzle and figures out he’s the one you like. What would he say when that happens? “Too nice, huh? So you like someone a little colder, then.”

Damn it, he got you again!

You don’t answer him.

“Not even going to try to deny it?”

“No,” you grumble to yourself, slumping further into the couch, “you’re only going to dig further anyway.”

He gives a satisfied hum, “Right, so it’s Clorinde then. I mean c’mon, we don’t get a lot of visitors, so it has to be her. She fits the description too.”

You exhaustedly sigh and swipe a hand over your face dramatically, done with his antics, “It’s not her either. And there is no ‘description.’”

He perks up in a way that makes you way too uncomfortable, “Navia?”

“No, I’ve never even met her aside from like one time two years ago,” you refute, sliding further down on the couch to fully lie down and shut your eyes, “I don’t get why you’re so excited over this.”

Wriothesley thinks for a moment before squinting his eyes, “Don’t tell me you have a crush on a prisoner?”

You teasingly peek an eye open while leaning back to look at him, “And if I did?”

“You better not,” he warns, pointing a stern finger at you like you were a prisoner and not his coworker.

You laugh to yourself at his sudden change of mood, “Relax, I was only joking!”

“Not funny,” he says unamused, prepared to pull out the prison’s rule book and slap it over your head if you did, “I’m really runnin’ out of people here.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say sarcastically, resisting the urge to roll your eyes, “thousands of people live in Fontaine. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

You really hope he doesn’t.

The following ten minutes consist of Wriothesley irritatingly pacing around the room and mumbling all sorts of names to himself. Some of which you recognized, others you had never even heard of before. And, despite all of your countless no’s to his guesses, he never gives up. Nor does he realize the answer is right in front of him.

“Just give it up already,” you finally interrupt as he stops in front of you.

A heavy sigh falls from Wriothesley’s lips as he collapses onto the couch, narrowly missing where your legs were outstretched. Defeatedly, he lays his head against the back of the sofa, shutting his eyes as he thinks a little harder. “Oh my god,” he says suddenly, head shooting up to look at you, “…don’t tell me.”

No way. Did he figure it out?

Your breath captures in your throat as his eyes flicker back and forth between your own, searching for some sort of truth. He knows. Your best friend knows that you have feelings for him — and not just the platonic kind.

His brows furrow and his face morphs into one of disgust. It makes your heart drop; the way he’s looking at you.

He doesn’t feel the same way.

“I can’t believe it,” he clicks his tongue in disgust, crossing his arms and turning his attention away from you, “you like Furina.”

Your jaw drops to the floor and suddenly you don’t feel bad anymore, “I actually can’t believe you just said that. Archons, I think you need to visit Sigewinne. I mean, seriously! Furina? Of all people!”

He grins and shrugs carelessly, “I don’t know? She was the last person I could think of.”

“Something is seriously wrong with you.”

“Clearly not so wrong that I couldn’t figure out that the person you actually like is me.”

“Oh please, I don’t even—wait, what? You knew?!”

A boisterous laugh erupts suddenly as you stare at him with wide eyes. You sit up on the couch quickly, slapping his shoulder as he continues to laugh, “Sorry, sorry!”

You don’t find it amusing, “I—when did you figure it out?”

His laugh eventually subsides into a drawn out sigh and his blue eyes soften a bit as they gaze into your own, “I’m not an idiot, you know? I wouldn’t be running this place if I was.”

“Right,” you mumble awkwardly, averting your gaze from his, “so, um, were you just doing all that to lighten the mood so you could let me down easily or…?”

“Or…what?” Wriothesley mocks you, a playful smirk pulling at his lips.

You roll your eyes with a scoff, “don’t make me say it.”

He spares you, luckily. It’s unlike him, but he doesn’t care to joke with you any longer when the subject is so serious, “Yes, I feel the same way. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No, I totally wanted to hear you say you hate me and want me dead,” you say sarcastically, trying to fight a smile.

“I’m being serious, I really do like you,” Wriothesley presses, ignoring the way you’re becoming awkward from the nervousness floating in the air.

You finally exhale the breath you had been guarding in your chest, relieved that this didn’t go as horribly as you once thought it would.

The alarm sounding for dinner goes off after and you both stand from your places on the couch, “So what do we do now that that’s out of the way?”

Wriothesley falls into step next to you, holding the doors to his office open to let you out first, “We have our first date in the cafeteria, of course.”

Your face drops and you stop in your tracks to glare at him, “That better be a joke.”

He laughs it off quickly, not thinking you’d take it so seriously. Eagerly, he grabs your hand tightly in his as he pulls you to the exit of the Fortress, “Relax, I’m just teasing you! You deserve only the best, after all.”

“You are so annoying.”

“Only for you, sweetheart.”

[breadbrobin]

“doc”

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[child of apollo reader, should be gender neutral]

i tried to write a summary but it sucked so: reader is a child of apollo and luke is always hanging around the infirmary with a new injury. you hate it (do you really?)

(this got so out of hand but im so obsessed with luke castellan rn it’s not even funny. like. help.)

warning: like one or two swear words, mentions of injuries and illness, fluff i think

word count: 1.2k

____________________

you’d never been a fan of luke castellan. you knew it, he knew it—hell, everyone at camp knew it.

but a little unfriendliness never stopped him.

children of apollo were meant to be warm and kind all the time, but you’d rather die before being happy-go-lucky all the time like your siblings. you’d rather do your job: healing the campers who injured themselves throughout the days at camp. you’d also rather those campers not include luke castellan for once, but not all wishes can come true.

scarcely a day could pass by without luke coming into the infirmary, or coming up to you elsewhere in camp if you weren’t there, with a minor injury that he insisted needed healing immediately.

“i just don’t think i can continue kayaking with a sprained ankle, y/n.”

“what if it was your knees you skinned? wouldn’t you want to get them healed so you could get back to arts and crafts?”

“if my cut finger isn’t healed as soon as possible i’ll have to sit capture the flag out tomorrow! yes, i know it’s a paper cut. that’s not the point!”

he really was ridiculous.

either way, you had to heal him, technically. at your heart, you were a good person. on the surface, you wanted to punch him. give him something to really cry about.

“y/n, your boyfriend’s here again.” one of your sisters, cassidy, called out to you as you checked the stock of bandaids.

you rolled your eyes, not even bothering to correct her. “what this time?”

“i just have the worst headache, doc. it’s killing me.” luke said dramatically, holding his forehead. the small grin on his face didn’t support his statement at all.

you turned around, eyes wide and face serious, but trying not to smirk. “oh no, you might have meningitis! if it’s the worst headache of your life, we should get to you a hospital so they can do a spinal tap and run some tests.”

the grin on his face faltered as you pulled him to a seat. “uh—“

“lie down. don’t move. i’m going to get chiron.”

he gripped your arm. “no, wait, i think—“

“you’ll be fine?” you turned around with raised brows. “yeah, thought so. drink some water, castellan.”

“but—“

“what? you won’t be able to do sword fighting practise with a headache? big deal.”

“y/n—“

“you need to stop coming in here every time you get bored. we’re not an entertainment space.”

“but, i really do have a headache. like. a migraine.”

you stopped and turned back around, dropping the bandages you had been organising. “oh. shit, i’m sorry. hold on.”

cursing yourself internally, you rushed off to get nectar to hopefully help, along with some painkillers and a bottle of chilled water. when you came back, luke was lying on the bed, eyes closed.

“you okay, soldier?” you patted his shoulder gently.

he cracked one eye open and nodded. “kind of.”

you gently pulled him to sit up. “come on. gotta get some meds in you. eat any food today? drink enough water?”

he shook his head as he sipped the nectar, his eyes squinted. “got busy.”

you shot him a disapproving look and he smiled guiltily. “you need to eat or you’ll die. do you want to die?”

he looked up at you with furrowed brows. “you don’t have a very good bedside manner, you know?”

“then why do you keep coming back here?” you went back to organising bandages, busying your hands.

“i like my doctors prettier than they are kind, honestly.”

you froze your movements and looked over at him. luke was smiling slightly. your cheeks weren’t turning red, you told yourself. they weren’t allowed to. “whatever,” you finally said. “take your meds, drink all of that water—sip it, don’t chug—then get some sleep, alright?”

he nodded, taking a sip of the water. “yes, doc. got it.”

you nodded at him firmly and walked off once he’d taken the painkillers, hoping he couldn’t see right through you.

luke hadn’t been to the infirmary in a week, and you were genuinely starting to get concerned.

every free moment you got, you were staring at the door, or out the window, waiting for him to come in with some stupid injury and even more stupid excuse. but he didn’t.

after watching you pace for the seventh time in one morning, cassidy groaned. “just go find him.”

“i’m sure he’s fine.” you said, wringing your hands. “i mean, he’s probably just busy.”

“just go. you’re stressing me out. i can’t get anything done with you filling the room with your nervous energy. go find your boyfriend.”

“luke’s not my boyfriend.”

“i never said who it was.”

“well, it was pretty obvious—“

“just go!” she threw a bandage at your head, effectively forcing you out the door.

you didn’t even know where he was.

camp was huge, so it took you around twenty minutes to find him, he sun glaring into your eyes and likely burning your cheeks. regardless, you were on a mission. finally, you spotted him in the arena. of course.

you watched for a while until he noticed you, standing in the shade with your eyes squinted in the sun and your arms crossed over your chest. he grinned and jogged over.

“hey, doc. what brings you here?” he asked, sheathing his sword.

your eyes followed the precise movement. “why haven’t you been to the infirmary?”

he shrugged. “i haven’t been injured.”

“didn’t stop you before.”

there was a silence.

then he smiled again. “did you miss me?”

your cheeks burned. “no!” you cleared your through awkwardly. “i just… i get… bored. and you… keep the monotony away.”

“you missed me.”

“i did not miss you.”

he leaned closer, rocking back and forth on his feet. “you missed me.”

you glared up at him, but couldn’t fight the tiny smile that forced itself on your lips. you shook your head, pressing your lips together tightly. “nope. didn’t miss you.”

“well,” he shrugged. “guess i don’t need to tell you that i did actually just hurt my hand while training, huh?”

you frowned. “are you aware that consuming as much nectar and ambrosia as you seem to want to will cause you to burn to a crisp?”

“i don’t need godly food if i have you as my doctor.” he smiled cheekily, clenching his fist then wincing. “seriously, though. it hurts.”

“aw, poor baby.” you pouted, leaning forward and placing your hand on his and trying to feel if there was any injury present.

before you could do anything, his fingers had interlocked with yours and he was stepping closer to you.

you looked up at him, heart pounding and cheeks burning. “what are you—“

“i don’t know what we can do for a date around here, but i’d love to take you on one, doc.” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

you froze, heart fluttering. butterflies danced in your stomach. you found yourself nodding before you could stop yourself, smiling. “okay. yeah. take me on a date, soldier.”

“yeah?” he smiled, squeezing your hand. “great! i’ve been trying to work up the guts to ask you for weeks now. also, can i kiss you?”

“i’ve been trying to pretend i didn’t want you to ask me for weeks.” you said, stepping slightly closer to him. “also… yes.”

his free hand cupped your cheek and his lips pressed to yours, soft and sweet.

you wondered why you ever said you didn’t like him.

[workingbynyx]

Hi! I was wondering if you'd be interested in writing headcanons of Jason Todd as the reader's boyfriend? Probably like the general dynamic of the relationship, love language, etc. Whatever you think goes best! :)

of course! i can finally use my hcs of boyfie jason to good use oml i have so much in store for you loves 😚

(this has been sitting in my drafts for so long and now that its almost v-day i think its pretty fitting to post this <3 also pls remember that these are my personal hcs so some may be entirely ooc but this is how i imagine him to be okay 😭)

Very affectionate behind closed doors

Jason wasn't a very clingy person to begin with. in fact the first time you held hands you swore you saw drops of sweat drip down the side of his face, it's hilarious. it took him a while to get around giving physical affection but once he did, hugs and kisses are non-stop. he'll either give you quick or aggressive but gentle kisses or would simply ask you to climb onto him on your shared bed and lay your head on his chest as he sleeps. he'd search for your hand and give it a squeeze when the both of you are in a big crowd (ex; galas, parties) or just rest his hand on the small of your back— as intimidating he might seem, he's just a big baby in your hands.

A pretty decent cook, to say the least

Could be an unpopular opinion but i'd say Jason isn't all too bad in the kitchen, he can pretty much fix up a simple meal if he wants to. The man could either fuck up the microwave or invent a whole new recipe just to fit your cravings, there's no in between. He doesn't want to admit it but he has a secret folder in his phone of all the recipes to your favourite dishes from lunch meals to deserts; so now on every occassion, you can expect waking up to the fresh scent of your favourite food set on the table <3

Midnight joyrides are the best

Do y'all know those tiktok accs that own a motorbike and just drive around with their partners sitting behind them? That's exactly how i imagine what it would be like to be Jason's partner 👊👊 literally like; "bubs put on your helmet" "are we going out? at this time?" "what, you don't want to?" "well, yeah i do..." "good, i'll have the bike out front then" then you guys just drive around on his bigass bike zooming through the city. He'd also have his hands run down your leg that's straddling him from behind at every stoplight possible wkehwjhejwhd

Getting out of bed is almost impossible

The first time you two moved in together was really exciting, waking up finding yourself beside the love of your life sleeping peacefully to eating breakfast and dinner with them too. But as time went by, it became almost your mission everyday to get out of bed without being held back by Jason pulling you back under the sheets. You'd have to be sneaky to move his arm that's wrapped around your waist before his reflexes react soon enough; "mmh, going somewhere?" "jay, i gotta get to work" "10 more minutes love, i promise. I'll just drive you there it's much faster" "you said that 5 minutes ago— i'll be late again!" "are you saying you'd rather leave me alone?" "jace i–" "mhm exactly, so stay a'ight? you could just tell them you caught that flu" "i already did...two days ago..."

Absolutely adores your eyes, hands and waist

I'm a firm believer that Jason is a certified waist-grabber !!! you can expect the rough tips of his gloves glide over from your back all the way to your waist once he comes home from work. He also looooves looking into your eyes and see his reflection in them, the same eyes that showed nothing but pure love and kindness to him. And he also likes your hands; the size difference when you compare them, how they wrapped around his own, and how they cling onto him every chance you get. He thinks it's such a cute mannerism (if you have them too)

He asks for fashion advice, sometimes

Jason'll probably throw on a shirt, jacket, pants and boots then call it day before he met you— but he's even conscious of how colors looked on him now. You were his stylist, often picking out clothes and giving him new looks that you think looks best on him just because he once saw a photo of him and thought the shirt and pants he had didn't match at all. Jason always thought clothes only consists of hoodies, sweatpants, shirts, but now even knows what 'preppy' clothing is after you explained it to him.

His love language is words of affirmation and physical touch

This may vary to some people but i do hc Jason's love language to be words of affirmation and physical touch. Words of affirmation; only because he absolutely loves it when he tells you what he genuinely thinks of you at the moment. "You look great in red", "i'm proud of what you did there", "i love you, y'know that right?", "you look so gorgeous, i'm lucky to have you" and physical touch; because he's totally convinced he can't live without you by his side. Jason would want to be next or near you at any given chance, he'll have you scooted beside him while he reads a book or gently rub his hand against your thigh when he's focused on a movie. Your presence alone gives him the comfort he's always longing for in nights that he's away from home, and you'd glady give it to him.

Very protective over you

It's probably a known fact that Jason is a protective person but when it comes to you he can be over the top in making sure you're okay (especially when you're also a vigilante/hero working with him.) You'll always have to assure him that you're fine and not bleeding to death with a papercut or when you accidentlly stub your toe against the bed. But when you're also a crime-fighter like him, best believe he'll always have you stay and guarded behind him. You had to explain so many times that you could also take care of yourself like he can, though it's understandable why he acts that way most of the time.

Acts all tough, but melts when you're around

Around the times when Jason still had a lil crush on you, he'd never let his guard down and likes to appear cold or tough. But once you were dating he's an absolute shy babe even with the smallest gestures or compliments you give him. He'd only crack a smile at the side comments you make but is mentally falling apart. Or when he can't keep up the act he simply dips his head in the corner of your neck and stay there til he stops blushing like a teen getting his first kiss.

Is a part of the sassy man apocalypse

Sometimes, you question if this man is simply your bestfriend or your boyfriend of how many years. The amount of bickering the two of you end up having is like watching two friends fight over peanut butter vs chocolate. You'd suggest a book you've been reading that he absolutely despises and have a debate right there and then. It's almost like that one Friends scene when Joey and Rachel were giving spoilers back to back at each other LMAO. The man also has an unhealthy habit of popping a hip whenever he stands, your gallery would probably be filled with pictures of him in that stance alone.

[doobea]

SPITTIN' OUT LIKE LISTERINE ─ RIN I.

synopsis: sae is great at a lot of things, his brother... not so much. when sae calls you up to tutor rin for his upcoming exams the first thought should've been 'yeah, sounds like easy money' rather than 'why does it look like he wants to kill me right now'.

MILESTONE EVENT || MILESTONE MASTERLIST

contents: gn!reader, reader is two grades above rin, college AU setting, forced proximity, best friend's brother, rin is a lil emotionally constipated but its alright bc we love him, sae is a physics major in this idk why word count: 10.9k (haha... why do i do this) a/n: hi hi umm idk if i know how to write tbh its been quite some time,,, but im slowly finding myself getting back into the groove and umm yeah it'll still take some time!! anyways, thank you for beta'ing @popponn and of course this fic is dedicated to you too my sweet <3

You meet Itoshi Rin at a coffee shop, of all places.

The kind of shop that you often see campus influencers hanging around. Hole in the wall. Dangling fairy lights paired with a few overgrown rose bushes in the front. A bit old-schooled, wooden counter tops, with well loved espresso machines. It’s not a big cafe, just enough to hold a few couches, a singular bookshelf packed with all sorts of board games, and low rise tables with way too many heat stains. 

At the start of the year, it started out as a quiet job. Never too overwhelming and had just enough downtime for you to finish up assignments in between breaks. Recently, due to a couple of self-proclaimed foodies on campus, business has blown up ten-fold. So, instead of catching up on your latest lectures, you’re stuck brewing teenage girls their overpriced lattes that are just mostly multiple pumps of flavored syrup and copious amounts of whipped cream. It’s rough but manageable to say the least, judging from the tips. 

You’re currently on scholarship, top of your classes and major, but you’re also living on your own so rent’s gotta get paid one way or another. Whether it be working part-time as a teaching assistant, a barista, or both.

On this particular day, you’re just about done closing up shop. The last hour had you rushing back and forth, fulfilling a last minute order from a Karen that swore up and down that she placed a mobile app order for ten frappuccinos twenty minutes prior. It’s been a long day, but the evening has finally calmed down. You’re scrubbing down the counter, putting all the remaining elbow grease you have into this one particular syrup spill earlier that you didn’t realize that someone had walked in until they started clearing their throat.

You barely look up, having the stain just almost disappear from the counter, but the information you register is enough to know that it’s a guy, and he’s by himself. 

And, okay, in a normal setting you would probably be smart enough to realize that a guy wearing a black cap, oversized hoodie, and a large gym bag at nearly nine o’clock at night is anything but suspicious. You, however, worked a long day. Your eyes are strained from operating the bright tablet menu. Your hair is a frenzied mess. There’s tea stains all over your apron. You get the gist.

So you don’t really notice at all, except that this guy is idling in front of the counter, looking over at the menu with equally strained eyes as you. That’s not unusual. You’ve learned when to be helpful and when to give someone their time and space. It’s slow now, not like it’s common for more customers to show up this late anyway. 

After a moment, the customer clears his throat again. You turn around, fixing your apron, and work up a friendly smile and a quick “ready to order?” when it dawns upon you that this guy is breathtakingly gorgeous. So much so that if you could take over the rights of the Oxford Dictionary, you would attach this guy’s face underneath the word gorgeous and emo.

Dark wispy bangs, striking teal eyes, long mesmerizing lashes, and lips that naturally fall into a small frown giving him the ultimate resting bitch face. They’re also very kissable lips, and you hate yourself for jumping to that thought so fast. It’s not usual for you to hit on customers, let alone just anyone, and it’s probably safe to say that anyone as handsome as The Duke of the North (because you’ve also been reading too many romance comics on the side and this stranger definitely fits this role) probably has a partner of his own. 

“Hey,” The Duke of the North looks awkwardly pained, as if he hates starting a conversation. His eyes drift down to your name tag that’s proudly displayed on your apron, littered with all sorts of stickers and pins. “I—um, what do you recommend?”

Working in food service made you absolutely hate this question with a burning passion. Everyone’s taste is subjective. You get this question all the damn time, and you have to put on your best customer service act, all preppy and bubbly. It’s not like you hate helping customers, you do. But, when they don’t give you anything to work with, it becomes your fault if the drink is bad. 

Though, for obvious reasons, you don’t mind extending the conversation with The Duke of the North. Just by glance alone, you can tell he’s a bit of a health nut from the lean physique and the hefty gym bag that’s tossed around his shoulders. Looks scary and a little daunting, but you have an inkling feeling he’s more of a traditional type of guy. 

“If you want popular suggestions then I’d rec our brown sugar boba for beginners or, if you want something less sweet, I always prefer our in house rose oolong milk tea.” You answer, good-naturedly.

The Duke of the North seems to be in deep pondering. The look on his face makes you feel a little uneasy, like maybe he’s missing something, but eventually he settles with the latter.  “Rose oolong,” He says thoughtfully, almost unfamiliar with the term. “I’ll have that then.”

“It’s one of our signature drinks,” you ring in his order with a smile, “tends to be popular with a lot of the older women.” There’s tease laced in the tone, but you mean no harm. Maybe just a tiny amount for him coming in before closing. 

And, after collecting the cash payment, you can tell that he’s struggling with the awkwardness hanging in the air. You assume he’s not used to jokes, or even hanging around others willingly for that fact. There was another comment you wanted to ask, more so his background and if he goes to the same university, but it quickly vanishes when the guy scurries to the furthest corner of the shop. 

Okay, that’s fine too. Not everyone is suited for small talk.

You get the feeling that this guy wants to avoid people and maybe he’s also had one hell of a day. You’ve learned pretty early on as a barista to never ask anyone about their problems, only because you’ll accidentally sign up to become their therapist without meaning to. 

You decide to brew up a warm batch of rose oolong tea, despite the fact he never specified if he wanted it hot or iced - he looks like the type of guy to always order a warm drink, even on a summer day. And, being the lovely barista you are, you decide to give him a large for the hell of it. This will go down as your one positive action for today, hoping that the good luck will carry over for tomorrow’s rough schedule.

“Hope you like it,” you present him with the tea and watch him as he swirls the drink around. He doesn’t look upset that it’s warm, so you take that as a good sign. “Feel free to hang back a little, I still have to clean up a couple of things in the back.”

“Sure, thanks,” he nods, and the words sound genuine. Without missing a beat, he retreats back in the corner and pulls out a laptop, notebook, and somehow manages to balance the drink on the cushion next to him. Yeah, definitely a fellow student working overtime like you.

True to your word, you go back to your boring list of chores to do; tons of equipment to be sanitized, chalkboard to be erased and be replaced by tomorrow’s daily specials, counting the register, taking out all the trash… maybe it’s not too late to find a less taxing job.

If you weren’t so tunnel visioned in your deep cleaning, maybe you would’ve noticed The Duke of the North spilling some of the tea on himself, asking if you had some extra tissues he could borrow, but only growing self-cautious when he realized that your earbuds are shoved in. And maybe you’d notice him cleaning up the spill with his own clothes from the gym bag, dabbing the spot furiously and making sure it looked like the same state prior. 

You’re almost done with your long list of closing chores when The Duke of the North returns with an empty cup. “Thanks, again. ‘S was good,” he awkwardly offers up.

“Glad to hear,” you flush a little, because your uniform is a mess, and you clearly look the part still. Nothing is more embarrassing than a cute guy staring down at you while you’re sweaty, tired, and have soap suds all over your apron.

There’s a bit of a silence, and then he says, even more awkwardly, “I’ll, uh, see you around. Good night.”

“Sure,” you reply in a quiet voice, in a tone that’s taken on a dreamy sort of quality. “Night.”

You let out a ragged sigh by the time he was out of sight, praying to see him again in better circumstances. By the time you’re locking the front door, you’re half debating to FaceTime your best friend about the random encounter. Somehow, Sae tends to know just about everyone on campus, even if his friend group only extends out to you. Though, noting that it’s nearly midnight and you should really catch the last bus of the day, you quickly toss that thought out the window and save the energy for tomorrow’s session.

“Mind tutoring my brother for me?” Sae asks out of the blue the next day.

You flail a little, shooting him an exasperated look over your shoulder as your fingers stop in mid hover over the keys of your laptop. An hour and a half into the TA grading session and somehow things feel slightly more off than yesterday night. 

There’s only one single thought running through your mind as you stare at Sae, best friend of nearly two years, “You have a brother?!”

A swarm of “shh” and “quiet down” soon blows in your direction in the library. You’re quickly met with glares from other senior students from nearby tables and study rooms as you mumble back flurries of “sorry” while Sae only rolls his eyes.

It’s nearing midterms, everyone and their mothers are camped on every floor and crevice of the building, thus making gossiping quite impossible and frowned upon. So you stare in disbelief at your friend on the wild fact that he potentially has a brother and didn’t bother telling you until now. 

Sae blinks, “…Yeah? That’s shocking news to you?”

You laugh a little sheepishly, “You’ve never mentioned having one, let alone anything familial.” Then again, this is Sae. Talk about emotionally guarded. 

“You’ve never asked,” Sae huffs before setting down a stack of graded papers. At the top, you see an unfortunate student’s work marred in everything red from Sae’s corrections. He’s always been a tough grader and, for any poor soul who has to take physics, chances of them retaking are high when he’s TAing.

“No offense, but you’ve always given me only child vibes,” you say, lamely, not hiding the fact you’re mildly annoyed. Seriously, this guy knows just about everything about your personal life and now you’re just finding out about his?

“All offense taken,” he replies dryly. 

You scoot closer and whisper, “So, who’s the unlucky guy?”

Sae heaves, ignoring your comment, and continues, “Rin. He’s been focusing too much on sports lately to care about his midterms. He knows about the arrangement. I would offer to tutor him but… we don’t have the best sibling relationship.”

And, Sae being Sae, this doesn’t really surprise you. “See? The only child vibe checks out.”

“Anyways,” Sae rolls his eyes for the nth time and tosses you a half folded sticky note with the name and contact info of his presumed brother. “He gets his shitty attitude from me, so try not to get too upset if he doesn’t seem talkative.”

“I haven’t even given my answer to—”

“Just how often do I ask for your help?”

“Like never,” your reply is instant and Sae only raises his brows in confirmation. You take that as a sign of he’ll somehow return the favor. It’s a rare opportunity, perhaps even once in a blue moon, but there is just one thing that you’re wondering about—

“Don’t worry about the money, you’re going to be covered,” Sae reassures as he throws another thick stack of exams on top of the finished pile. “He’s a fast learner when he wants to be, just not as of recently since he’s started the semester.”

“I take it he’s a grade below?”

“About two years younger, in honors.”

You laugh, pulling away and readjusting your attention back to your laptop screen. “Seems smarter than you, I like him already.”

It’s a terrible day, because you’re awake before your alarm. Hell, you’re awake before sunrise.

It’s absolutely nonsense and your boss knows to stop giving you these opening and closing shifts back to back, but apparently nobody else had been available to open. 

“You’re competent,” your boss had said over the phone last night. “I trust you more than our own managers, so you should at least feel proud about that.”

Should you?

Of course, you don’t fall for his stupid flattery, not when your alarm is finally blasting in your ear at five in the morning. Normally, you at least try to make yourself look half-presentable but, working on approximately four hours of sleep, the best you could do for yourself is throw on a sweater and jeans before heading out the door.

As a whole, you really do like your job and usually get the later shift but the recent manager got fired for stealing cash from the register, and your other co-worker called off for the next few weeks due to a family emergency, so now your life is a living hell — at least until they return. And, let’s not forget to mention that somehow you’re also stuck with tutoring your classmate’s younger brother because somehow he couldn’t have done it himself. Also a so-called “family emergency”. 

The only thing you appreciate is at least it’s warm inside the cafe once you’ve turned on the lights and tossed your bookbag in the back room. The store might be short-staffed today, but mornings are always slow, which only means you can at least get paid by watching some YouTube videos while finishing setting the place up.

You barely get through setting up the pastries when there’s a knock on the door. Dear god. It’s barely seven, you’ve been here for exactly fifty minutes, and already you’re debating smashing your face against the coffee machine to put yourself out of this misery. If it’s a customer, you swear you’re going to kill someone.

As you glare intently at the window, in the early morning, pre-dawn glow, you can make out a tall guy, dressed in athleisure, peering through the glass. You’re about to grumble out loud about entitled customers showing up before opening hours but the door knob suddenly turns, all because you were too tired earlier to lock it, so now you have to put on your dumb customer service voice. 

The bell chimes loudly as the guy walks in. The lighting in the coffee shop is low, with that quiet, comfortable ambience of soft piano background music playing through the speakers. Your eyes are still half-awake too, blurry around the edges with sleep. But that face, no one could possibly forget that.

“You’re back,” you say this in awe, offering up your best smile, even though it’s lopsided and droopy. The annoyance ebbs away slowly as the man approaches the counter.

The Duke of the North scratches his cheek, and looks around the cafe a bit more, realizing that he’s quite literally the only one here. “...Am I early?”

“Kinda, we open in thirty minutes,” you shrug. It’s not an accusatory thing, because at least this time he has the manners to come in before it’s open rather than before closing. That’s something you can work with. You were irritated earlier but now you’re suppressing a giggle. “Did you like the drink that much?”

Before he could answer, he tips his baseball cap and grips his bookbag before settling down on the nearest couch by the counter. Wondering if the comment had came out as off putting, you’re about to throw on a free pastry when—

“My brother recommended this cafe. Needed a quiet place to get some work done,” he explains with a slight pause, and continues, “The drink you made was good,” he says quietly and starts unpacking. For whatever reason, that puts a dumb cheesy grin on your face. You’re thankful he’s too occupied to catch that.

“Well, you’re welcome to stop by anytime. Just, you know, within actual store hours.” You laugh when you see the tips of his ear flushing a light shade of red. 

“I suppose you’re right,” and you don’t have to look at him to hear the tiny smile in his voice.

“Did you want me to make you anything?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing at the moment. Thank you.”

You two are quiet again for a long time. He’s minding your space while you’re trying to finish your opening duties. When you’re finally done fiddling with the coffee bean grinder, you twirl around, mind racing and checking off your internal checklist with the next task being to actually open the shop. Though, as you turn, The Duke of the North is already by the front door, flipping the sign over to OPEN. 

Can this guy get any more charming?

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” except that you totally loved the fact that he did just that. Maybe a concerning amount. 

“I was getting up anyways,” he reasons simply with a shrug. Somehow he slightly reminds you of a certain someone, but you ignore the nagging voice inside your head.

“Well, keep that up and we might just hire you,” you tease.

The Duke of the North strolls up to the counter, presenting a credit card in his hand, and looks over the menu behind you. You give him space, but you absolutely try to make out the name on the card. You probably shouldn’t refer to him as The Duke of the North any longer than you should. Then again, if the shoe fits, why change?

Suddenly, the front door bell rings and the sight of maroon catches your attention.

“Sae?”

“You’re here awfully early,” Sae comments, nonchalantly. 

You sigh, rubbing a hand to your temple. “Got moved to first shift, unfortunately.”

“Wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to him,” he nods towards The Duke of the North.

Blinking hastily, you choke out, “Wait, you two know each other?”

“Are you that blind?” Sae deadpans and stands next to the taller male, who looks mildly taken back, like somehow he doesn’t want to be here anymore. “This is Rin. The guy I was talking about yesterday. My brother.”

To say that you’re shocked might be an understatement. The correct emotion might’ve been appalled, or even dread? You’re not sure. But you weren’t expecting the meeting to be as unnerved as it was. Rin doesn’t even allow Sae to finish explaining, just ends up walking out with the promise of showing up to the shop at the end of your shift. You remember catching Sae’s irritated expression which, in itself, is extremely rare. It placed a strained smile on your face.

Back at your apartment, you’re currently trying to balance this tutoring session by turning it into a personal study time too. Though, you keep the sight of Rin in your peripheral as you complete your assignments in bed. It didn’t take you too long to look through his current curriculum and throw together a few practice and multiple choice questions for a quick knowledge assessment. He seemed pretty adamant about knowing everything, but Sae has his doubts.

Rin keeps looking over at his quiz, your digital clock, and the floor — all in that order. You don’t want to distract him anymore than he already is, though you can’t help but to spare a glance of what he has done so far. 

The multiple choice questions have been filled out, with a couple of eraser bits on the side, but the short answers have hardly been touched. A lofty attempt has been made to the first short answer, where Rin drew a small circuit diagram to determine the internal resistance of a battery, but it kinda just stops at that. Any answers he has written for the problem set are mostly brief notions of what’s already stated in the prompt. 

Rin currently has his fingers knotted in his hair, pencil tapping against the table and, underneath the desk, he’s bouncing his leg like mad.He tries to look indifferent on a surface level, but you can easily see the vein popping out on his neck.

By the time you’ve finished grading, Rin barely scrapes by with a C-. And, while some students would be ecstatic with that, it’s surely not enough to raise his current grade to a passing one. 

Sae mentioned that Rin’s a fast learner when he wants to be and he never said tutoring would be an easy job. No worries, it’s not the first time you had to mentor a student before. What you’re more worried about is how Rin had been so sure that he knew what he was doing… when he obviously doesn’t.

You hand back the paper with the corrected answers in red ink. You even drew a tiny smiley face by his name to give him some sort of comfort, but Rin just makes a disgruntled noise and looks mildly disgusted.

“I don’t need your sympathy.”

You certainly didn’t expect him to snap at you. Rin visibly tenses and blood rushes to your ears.

Your lips part, finding the right words, as he redirects his attention to your bedroom window and stretches his jaw. Then, after an agonizing long pause, he tips his head back, slouches down in the chair, and sighs in defeat. 

“Sorry,” his voice cracks a little and he leans down, resting his forehead on the edge of the table. 

You pinch your lips together, eyebrows raised. He looks frustrated, but you can tell it’s not aimed at you. “Let’s… take a fifteen minute break, how does that sound?”

“I think I should go.” He’s a little breathless, possibly uncomfortable under the weight of your stare. 

“I’m not delicate, Itoshi,” you say, slowly. You’ve dealt with a fair share of angst-ridden undergrads flustering over their assignments. Rin is no different, and you’re not the type to easily give up after a mini meltdown. It’s all about having the right approach, if you send him home now then the next session would just start off even more strained. “Stay for a while longer, we’ll go over everything one by one.”

“It’s fine.”

You sigh, lips curling ever so slightly. “Itoshi, has anyone told you that you’re a terrible liar?”

From the look on his face, it seemed like the world had slipped out from under his feet. You soon realize that Rin almost reminds you of a raging teen, when he’s like this. He’s fiercely independent, that’s for sure. The type that doesn’t like to make others worry but it ends up backfiring in the end. How he’s managed to get through with life is way beyond your comprehension, but you have a feeling that it has something to do with Sae.

“I… I don’t talk about stuff like this,” he admits and chews down on his lip - it seems like a nervous tick, a bad habit. 

“I can tell,” a chuckle bubbles from you but you pause when you catch his glare. You start clearing your throat awkwardly, “I—um, I don’t talk about my feelings often either. I don’t think many people do. We’re all trying to figure things out as we go.”

“Have you figured it out yet?” Rin seems to surprise himself with that question. 

Maybe for him, you look like you’ve got all your shit together. As if you’ve figured out all the great secrets in life. And maybe, you think, he just wants reassurance that he’s not alone, struggling, to find purpose. Or perhaps Rin wants you to offer up some adult advice, something only seniors would know. 

Your eyes widen for a moment. Rin furrows his brows tightly together and stares at you for answers. You both know well enough that you don’t have a solution, but he looks at you anyway. All you offer him back is a warm, big smile. 

“Itoshi, I’m two years older than you. I’ve had a little more years to figure it out,” you begin slowly, “I’ve had my ups and downs, almost flunked out a few courses when I was starting out, too. I didn’t just magically have it all come together.”

He appears doubtful, almost hard to believe. Rin looks like he’s about to protest but one look and he soon realizes that you’re pushing some truth there. You can tell that he’s struggling, mind working in overtime to try and process all of his internal conflicts — only because you’ve gone through the same. 

“Honestly,” you continue, after a long moment of silence, and lean to the side, giving Rin’s shoulder a little nudge, “It’s not my business to dig around your psyche, but just know that you’re welcome to tell me anything. Physics related or not.”

Rin doesn’t say a word, but you take his silence as a contentment. 

“So, uh,” you start to get up from the bed and pace towards the kitchen area, “I have some sliced fruit in the fridge, if you want some. Can’t solve these problems on an empty stomach.”

You two spend the rest of the night assessing the problems he got stuck on and going over shorthand tricks to easily remember what formulas to use. To your surprise, Rin stays mostly quiet and attentive this time around. He doesn’t stare at the worksheet in irritation anymore, and asks questions when he finds himself stuck on a problem. At the end, he manages a passing B on the new practice assessment. And, of course, while downing a bowl of freshly sliced honeydew.

It’s almost midnight by the time he starts heading out. You’re certain that this is going to kick you in the ass tomorrow morning, because you somehow forgot that you have an 8:00 AM class. It’s fine, you think, at least the atmosphere feels a lot lighter than when you guys first started, so you consider that as a plus.

As Rin begins to put on his shoes, you try to lean against the bedroom door casually and nearly fall over. Looking unimpressed, Rin looks up at you.

“Hm?”

“Do you dislike me?”

“You’d already be dead if I hated you,” Rin says this with a certain level of confidence that makes you both shiver and relax at the same time. You’re positive that he isn’t a serial killer but, then again, you don’t know if Sae is the only source of all that pent up angst. 

When his hand rests on the front door knob, Rin suddenly looks back, eyebrows knitted together, and you can’t tell what his expression translates into. Nevertheless, it makes your breath catch in your throat, and you swallow hard. 

“Yes, Itoshi?”

”You… your room is messy,” Rin eventually comments, very unnecessarily, which causes you to release a heavy sigh, sticking a disapproving tongue out.

“Wow, you really do get that shitty attitude from him!”

Rin just snorts, hands in his pockets, and you think this is the first time he’s ever really laughed. It throws you off and, before you get a proper chance to recover, he’s out the door. 

“You’re surprisingly getting the hang of this, Itoshi” you’re glossing over the practice quiz he had today, feeling a surge of pride knowing that Rin was able to handle it just fine. He ended up receiving a B minus, which is nearly a grade higher from his past averages. Guess a heated vent session is the answer to most problems. 

“I’ve cleared my head,” he shrugs nonchalantly, as if it’s the easiest thing to do in the world. 

Outside, a storm rages and rattles the windows every time thunder roars. Typhoon season is nearing as the weather starts to get warmer, which ultimately means your evening shifts are cut early to avoid flood risks and violent winds. It’s been about two weeks since the first tutoring session and there’s been a slow progression in your relationship. 

Having Rin over almost feels weirdly second nature, despite the short amount of time. You try to meet at least three times a week, two of those times happen right after your shift. The thing you miss the most about being a sophomore is the amount of free time you had. Rin’s classes practically finish before three every day and arrive at the coffee shop right after football practice everyday. Majority of the time, it would just be exchanging shorthand greetings but, whenever the evening rush dies down, you try to strike a quick check-in. Afterwards, the two of you  would make the trip back to your apartment to continue the session. 

Which leads to this current situation. 

About an hour into the session you suggested a well needed break, for you at least. You’re laying down in your bed, playing a mobile game on full volume, while Rin is disciplined enough to still scroll over his previous lecture slides at your desk. You’re not sure if this is what he does to “relax”, or if he’s just simply not grown comfortable around you just yet. Either way, it’s hard to believe that you’re being out mentored. 

“You know you can chill, right?”

“I know.” You hear muffled sounds of a lecture recording from his laptop. 

“Well, I don’t hear you chilling.”

“I don’t need to be.”

Okay, yeah, you’re starting to see the family resemblance here. But it’s going to take a lot more than that to stop you. How else have you survived as Sae’s best friend for two years?

“Don’t you have any fun weekend plans?” 

Rin shakes his head, eyes never leaving his screen. “Maybe not fun by your definitions.”

Your ears perk at this and you subtly lower the volume of the game. Maybe this is a sign to get to know his likes and dislikes, and whether or not he has a significant other — because that’s all important information. At least, that’s what you convince yourself. If Rin just so happens to be in a relationship, then you’ll easily set aside that growing curiosity. If he’s not, then a little harmless flirting won’t harm anyone, right?

“Itoshi,” you sit up from the bed with more purpose than before, Rin seems to catch on and visibly grimaces. “Tell me, I wanna know.”

“We should probably go back to studying,” he sighs.

You hop to your feet, sauntering to the desk and shutting his laptop with ease. Ohm’s Law can wait just a little while longer. “You’ve been at it nonstop since we’ve arrived here. It’s not good to cram everything in that big head of yours, that’s how people burn out faster. C’mon, a ten minute break won’t kill you.”

Rin doesn’t bother to argue against you, he’s been over well enough to pick up that you won’t let him become a complete workaholic. 

“Fine,” he gets up and makes his way over to sit on the edge of your bed, because if he doesn't then you’ll eventually force him to sit elsewhere. Something about separating work and personal spaces to improve learning.

You plop down a few inches away with a winning smile, “So, what are your plans?”

“Football practice—”

“Something other than what I already know.”

He exhales loudly. “Catching up on coursework at the cafe, probably.”

This takes you by surprise, only because you work this upcoming weekend. “Really? Well, guess we’ll see each other then.” Maybe tenacity is just rooted deeply in the family’s genes.

“It’s a nice place,” he reasons, sneaking a glance at you.

You begin squirming, trying to turn from Rin without looking like a complete idiot. Then, slowly, “...What do you like about it?”

And, of course, the words barely escape your lips when the whole building seems to creak and groan under the effort of the storm. The power flicks suddenly around the room, and then it’s complete, utter darkness.

You don’t feel Rin’s presence next to you until a sudden gust of air hits your ear. You flinch and clap a hand over your ear while Rin mumbles out a quick apology and stumbles to establish his own personal space on the bed. 

It starts to rain heavier now, water slapping hard against the window panels in big, ugly raindrops. You should probably get up and find a flashlight or any lighting of some sort, something to make the situation less awkward, but your body feels like a rock. You don’t want to move but, at the same time, your mind is telling you to run far, far away from Rin.

Heart throbbing against your chest, you gather up the courage to look at Rin’s face with the help of the dim lighting from the window sill. His eyes are half-lidded, seemingly glazed over in deep thought. He doesn’t say a single word, and every moment of his silence stirs the growing anxiousness inside. You swallow, suddenly aware that he’s beginning to unravel your sanity just by being there besides you. 

“Are you, um, are you okay with thunderstorms?” you adjust your position with shaky limbs, trying your best to not cross his physical boundaries.

Rin fidgets in response, but you can tell he’s also trying to keep his cool. “I’m fine with them. I just wasn’t expecting the power to suddenly…”

“Yeah, my apartment sucks,” you groan, inwardly. “This doesn’t happen all the time, I swear.” A flash of lightning illuminates the room, you squint against the light. “Maintenance won’t be on site ‘till tomorrow morning. I doubt you want to stay so we’ll have to cut the session short for today.”

You feel the mattress dip a little. The two of you fall silent, and there’s a weird awkward tension hanging in the room, one where it leaves you both red and flushing. Your mind is racing, and there’s a million questions. He hasn’t made any moves of getting up, nor has he said anything about leaving. It’s a bit uncharacteristic for Rin to be unsure in a given situation like this, or is he just being polite? This feels different from your first meeting, it’s still unpredictable, still a confusing mess.

“Or we could talk!” you quickly add on. “I…uh, if you want to talk, that is.”

After a few more moments of that awkward, creeping silence permeating the room, Rin sighs. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to talk about,” he whispers and looks up, his face looking worn out.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Silence is also okay.”

“I like silence,” he confesses.

“We can just sit here then,” you agree, “silence in itself can be therapeutic, too.”

You don’t necessarily agree with yourself. If it’s not for work at the cafe, you spend a good deal of your time in silence. Studying, grading students’ papers, thinking about your family back home, and preparing for life after graduation. It all gets overwhelming when you sit and process everything in your mind. Even so, the silence that falls between you and your best friend’s brother feels comfortable, in spite of the initial close proximity. You find yourself leaning back into the bed frame’s headboard, curling up sideways.

About ten minutes in, Rin cracks.

“When I was a kid, I used to be afraid of storms. Sae used to make dumb blanket forts with me. It’s silly, but…”

And, despite it being dark, you shoot him a knowing look. For a moment, Rin looks like he regrets even opening his mouth, like he’s about to blurt out a quick ‘nevermind’, but you don’t give him a chance.

“I’m listening, you don’t have to stop.” Unknowingly, you give his shoulders a little nudge of encouragement. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Rin thinks it over, and he only has to for a moment. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

He talks for a while, until he runs out of things to say. Or, rather, he runs out of energy to say anything. His thought process is a jumbled mess of how his relationship with Sae developed. Being the younger sibling, it’s natural for Rin to look up to his brother, to want to gain acknowledgement and become some sort of a mirror image. The thought of Sae looking after Rin while both of their parents were working overtime to provide for their education is also something you could heavily relate to. Around some point down the line, Sae began to distance himself from Rin without any apparent reasoning, at least in his eyes. Towards the end, it becomes a rambling about nothing, too, and you’re positive that Rin hasn’t even gotten into the meat of the issue.

Rin appears mildly exhausted, flustered, and a little embarrassed by the time he’s done. He turns to you, eyes narrowed, “Don’t say that you feel sorry for me, I’ve heard it about a dozen times already. It gets old.”

You shake your head, processing everything. You can tell he has so much more he wants to get off of his chest, so many things he wants to unload, things that he hasn’t even realized that’s been weighing him down. 

“I wasn’t gonna say that,” and he stays still, studying your next words with high concentration. “Sae and I have been close for quite a while, and I totally get how he’s an ass—to you and just about everyone else. He’s abrasive and straight to the point with a lot of things. Also pretty sure he’s allergic to communication. Hell, I’m not entirely sure how I was able to get close to him in the first place,” you flare a deep breath out of your nose and rhythmically tap your fingers along your thighs. “But I know he has a weird way of caring for others, too.”

“How so?” Rin doesn’t sound annoyed, just confused. Almost hopeful, even. 

“Well, he’s signed you up for tutoring, which might actually not be a good example of care but, um… He normally hates asking people for favors. This is just an unconventional way of saying that he’s making sure you’re doing okay.”

“Could’ve said it himself.”

“Yeah, well, you came to the cafe because he told you, right?”

With that, he quickly shuts his mouth, forming it into a subtle pout. Is he embarrassed that you’re right?

Another flash of lightning comes by, followed by low rumbling thunder. Then, an idea brews.

“This is gonna sound a bit crazy but… do you wanna build a fort?”

Rin snorts. “What’s with that?”

“Well, it doesn't seem like you’re in a rush to leave. Then again, maybe a taxi service would be expensive right now…”

He offers up little resistance to your suggestion and ends up dragging a couple of chairs into your living room from the kitchen. You dig around in your closet and pull out a heavy winter blanket, the ones with a giant tiger imprinted on the front. It’s been stored away for quite some time, leaving bits of dust and other mysterious remnants in the air as you straighten the fabric out. Hopefully Rin’s not sensitive to dust mites. 

One side of the blanket is stretched around the edge of the couch and tucked beneath the cushions. Another corner is wrapped and fastened clumsily around a chair. It hangs over the edge of the coffee table and is held in place by the second chair in the corresponding corner. The overall impression is ridiculous, but there's a decent space on the floor in front of the sofa. 

“That’s a bit better,” you decide, with a faint laugh. 

You’re pressed close to one another, and you have to admit that it’s intimate in a way that you didn’t expect. The air is a little warm, heavy with their breath and the faint heat from the candles. It’s… nice. Outside, the wind is howling, but it is fainter, partially obscured by the blanket barrier that keeps the outside world away.

You decide to stream a horror movie to pass the time, until the weather subsides a bit. You’ll probably go over your data plan for the month, but right now, you don’t really care. You prop the phone up against one of Rin’s textbooks that he didn’t get the chance to go over today, and end up watching a really shitty slasher movie from the 80’s.

At some point, you doze off, leaning in and head tipping to tentatively rest on his shoulder. It’s not the most comfortable position. You’re both slouched back against the couch, pillow wedged under your backs. Your phone eventually runs dead, and the candles burn into nothing—smoldering and smoking as they sputter out.

“Hey,” Rin faintly calls out your name. “It’s getting late.”

You stir in your sleep, finding the strength to open your eyes and tilt your head up. You’re sure that your heart is going to stop beating when he takes notice. The look on your face must’ve been a good one, because now Rin’s six shades of red deeper and he’s got his hand over his mouth. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry, Itoshi!”

“It’s… okay,” his voice is low, sounding almost uncertain. “Rin is also fine.”

You fail to notice his fingers making their way past your forearm, past your neck, until you feel them settle on your warm cheek. Shivers course through your body, and the resulting sounds you release is halfway between a sigh and a whimper. His eyes are half-lidded, glazed, and you’re positive yours are no different.

“Sorry, Rin…” you’re apologizing again, his name sounds foreign on your tongue but feels like home all at the same time. Your voice begins to trail off. You can’t finish, your eyes are already closed, head tilted. As you breathe, with your heart rattling in your throat, you feel Rin lean in close.

As soon as you collide into him, his lips meld against yours.

It’s funny how life works. Some days seem to drag, impossibly slow, especially when you’re trapped in your own mind — replaying everything, obsessing over every single action you’ve done wrong in your life. There are days where you barely get out of bed until it’s time for classes or to get ready for work, where you just go through the motions. 

Other days, they fly by in the blink of an eye. Sometimes it’s because you hole yourself up at the library, nose glued to your textbooks, and body running on adrenaline. Other times, it’s because you keep replaying that kiss you gave Rin, wondering what it means, or if it just means nothing at all. You remember being roped in by the shy, tentative edge in his voice that reminded you when you first met him at the shop, where you first had been infatuated.

Rin hasn’t spoken to you since that night at your apartment. On one hand, while you’re worried that you might’ve said something out of line, and maybe that kiss came off too strong. Which, of course it fucking came off too strong. You kissed your best friend’s brother, and that just spells disaster on its own. Although, on the other hand, you’re glad that you guys are on a first name basis.

That’s fine. Rin seems to be going through a lot and the best professional way to handle this situation is to be… professional. Everything is all too much, and you've decided that you need to take a break.

That night, you’ve made a quick trip home after work to stay at your family’s. You don’t have time to mull over a certain junior of yours, not when you have your own things to take care of. 

Your parents’ are currently on their anniversary date, leaving behind your two younger siblings all by themselves. You think two eight year olds could handle themselves just fine for a few hours but, then again, kids these days are just built differently.

You ended up ordering takeout and made them sit through a painstakingly long foreign film. Subtitles always put kids to sleep faster, you’ve learned. After carrying them to bed, you decide to spend the rest of your night sitting outside on the patio and wait for the return of your parents.

The skies are always clearer in the suburbs compared to the bustling city lights that pollute everywhere else. You sit down on a small plastic chair, one belonging to your siblings, and spend a good few minutes appreciating the twinkling stars and the raw smell of the countryside. You fix your gaze out in the distance, at the same hills and mountains the sprawling city overlooks.

Feeling inspired, you fish out your phone and decide to send Sae a quick picture of the surroundings with the caption ‘miss you loser :P’. It’s a small mini-game that you two started a year back, sending each other photos whenever away from campus, even though it’s mainly you sending the photos and he sends back middle finger emojis. 

Though, as soon as you hit the send button, dread immediately fills your gut. 

“Wait, shit, shit—wrong brother!” 

Your heart hammers against your chest as you stare at the now seemingly flirty caption and, dear lord, your reputation might as well be down the gutters. This will go down as probably the most embarrassing moments of your life, and what makes things even worse is that you know Rin has seen it because three gray dots are now jumping up and down in the chat log.

God, what are you even supposed to say to that?

[Sae’s Brother!!!]: I’m sorry?

When you receive the responding text, you feel yourself losing ten years off your lifespan. You bury your face into your hands and whine, loudly. 

This incident on top of whatever the hell happened during the night of the storm… Rin probably thinks you’re a creep for doing this. You can already imagine how it’ll play out: Rin tells Sae that you’re harassing him, Sae stops being your friend, and you’ll probably have to drop out and move out of the country. Rin might never even show himself to you again, and that thought alone makes your throat tighten up.

However, before you can descend into further madness, if that’s even possible, your phone vibrates again. You swallow the needles in your throat and peek through the cracks between your fingers.

[Sae’s Brother!!!]: Looks nice. 

And, to your surprise, there’s an image attached to the text. It’s a dim photo of his opened textbook, a filled in study guide sheet beside his laptop, and on the right side of his desk is a drink from the cafe. You want to make a dumb oolong tea joke, but now you feel bad for disrupting his study session. 

Then, another notification comes through.

[Sae’s Brother!!!]: Miss you too. :P

Your heart promptly multiplies into a thousand pieces. You lean into the chair, almost tipping yourself over. Your heart’s beating so hard that you can practically feel it pulse against your temples. Taking deep breaths, you don’t look at your phone until the urge to run away fades. 

It feels like you're dreaming, and you know it’s absolutely stupid and silly, that you feel like you’re floating right into a dumb romance drama right now, but you can’t help it. Not when Rin is pulling stunts like this. He probably meant it as a joke, maybe only responded back to mirror you, who knows. But someone like him should not have the power to be so, so adorable under all that hard exterior. That’s just illegal…

“God,” your breath shudders out and you thumb over the keyboard to respond back.

[You]: didn’t mean to send that to you haha… ;; [You]: but i take it that studying is going well??

Rin replies back within seconds.

[Sae’s Brother!!!]: I know. [Sae’s Brother!!!]: Studying’s been fine. Might need to look over something when we meet up again, if that’s okay. [You]: of course!! just lemme know what day works :)

Rin sends you a thumbs up emoji and you don’t get a response for a while after that, figuring that he probably went back to work. It doesn’t matter anyway, because it feels like a hundred pounds just got lifted from your shoulders and you feel so light that you’re convinced that you can see the stars even clearer now. 

Thank the heavens he didn’t make it weirder than it already was.

Fuzzy-brained, you decide that it might be best to call it a night and retreat back into the house and towards your old bedroom. Even while laying down on your plush mattress, curled up, with the aircon on blast, you couldn’t fall asleep — at least, not for a long while.

By the time you pass out, it’s from sheer exhaustion and adrenaline rush. Your phone remains gripped against your chest as you sleep, and you end up missing another message from Rin late in the night.

[Sae’s Brother!!!]: Your manager doesn’t make good oolong. Come back soon.

There are several moments when you tell yourself you need to take a couple steps back. That you really, really need to calm down about Itoshi Rin.

The rest of the week comes and goes. You haven’t seen Rin in a few days. You guys sorta text, with him giving you curt updates on his assignments, but Rin goes long periods of time without replying. And, when he does reply, even though it’s just a text on screen, you get a distinct idea that he’s probably tired. So most of the time you end up lounging around at Sae’s apartment, busying yourself with your own assignments and bothering Sae about the end of the year assessment. And maybe you mope to him about his younger brother. Just a little bit.

“Does Rin hate me?” 

“Why do you ask?” You could practically hear the eye roll in his response.

You feel a bit juvenile when you explain the reasoning, it’s obvious in your tone. “He’s, um, been kinda dry.”

“Is water dry?”

“...No?”

“Then there’s your answer,” Sae yawns and flips to the next page in whatever new psychological thriller novel he picked up. “Should feel lucky that he’s even responding back, I barely get an emoji out of him.”

Part of the fun thing about being friends with Sae is having full 24 hour access to his apartment. Whenever you’re running low on food, it doesn’t matter if it’s milk or potatoes, somehow there’s always extras at his place. The least fun thing about being friends with him is that he’s god awful at keeping up with conversations. Or, at least in this case, giving you advice on how to approach Rin appropriately.

You decide to change up the topic, slightly. Your mind’s currently running on three shots of espresso and one shitty breakfast sandwich from the dining hall, not really the best combo, and the words start flooding out. “On a different note, if someone you kinda just met shows a side of them that they’ve probably never shown to anyone, how would you react?”

Sae straightens from the couch, eyes flickering to you then back to the book. “Depends on who it is,” he shrugs. He doesn’t sound too interested in the conversation.

“Wise words, I see…” you hum in deep thought. You begin strutting around the tiny living room, circling around in front of the TV and keeping a somewhat watchful eye on Sae as you choose your next words carefully. “What if… it’s like a big thing? Super pent up for so long that they just start pouring all their emotions onto you? How would you react to that?”

“Sounds like a weird person. I would probably leave,” Sae’s voice is dismissive.

You groan, fully understanding Rin’s personal dilemma. “At least pretend to be serious right now!”

And, with that, he shuts his book and rests his cheek against his palm, sighing. “Maybe they told you because they’re afraid of talking to their close friends. Or maybe they just feel comfortable around you, I don’t know. Since you’re so caught up about this… who are you talking about?”

Shit, he caught on. 

Sae hardens his gaze on you, suspicion sprawled across his sharp features.

“I—um, uh, it’s a classmate of mine! We were going over grad school applications and they seemed really lost about if they wanted to apply or not… I was just a little surprised when they started talking about their insecurities with me, that’s all. We’re a little bit closer now, though…” your voice trails off and Sae cocks his head a little, pursing his lips, but decides to leave the topic be.

“Right, well… how are Rin’s studies coming along?” Sae asks after a long pause and backs out of your space. 

It’s not like Rin’s doing terribly at his studies. He’s picking up some of the methods and variables faster than most people in your department, perhaps even learning at a faster pace than yourself. Though, and this is just an observation, you’ve noticed that Rin rarely takes notes in his classes. When he does, well, it’s sloppy and unfocused. You’re starting to worry, since his midterm is rounding the corner, and you’ve been itching to ask if he remembers the material or if he doesn’t care. You want to, really, but it’s technically not your job to look after him full-time.

Unless it totally has something to do with the weird family dynamic that you can never really nail down? Yeah, you’re definitely not sticking your nose into that mud anytime soon. The last time you did that, well… 

“He’s doing fine!” You offer up that much. It’s a little taste of honesty. Not the full truth. Somehow, you know that Sae is damn well aware of that, too.

“As long as he’s motivated, that’s all that really matters.” Sae mumbles. He drops the conversation and it’s probably a good thing, because you can’t concentrate at all.

By the end of this particular meeting, you feel like you’re going to vomit. Your stomach has jumped into your throat, and you’re struggling to keep your breakfast down. It’s way too late to call out of work, so you power through and manage to make it in time for your shift. It’s not until you arrive that you notice a familiar tuff of black hair behind the register, eyes glimmering with all flirt and talk with a female student across the counter. 

Then, it hits you, if there’s one person other than Sae who can give mildly okay advice, it’s him.

When the evening rush dies down, you relay the situation back to Oliver, throwing on the crucial details—well, minus the kiss—unfortunately you can’t risk that information going out of his mouth. Unlike Sae, he shows interest from the get go, providing you live reactions and commentary as the story continues. When asked for his thoughts, Oliver covered his face and howled in laughter for a long while, getting stares from customers, before leaning in and eyes you very seriously.

“Kid’s got a massive crush on you, that’s for sure.”

Oliver is obviously a better listener compared to Sae, but also has a tendency to stretch things out for dramatic purposes. You should’ve mentally prepared yourself for this.

“Wait a sec,” Oliver sits on the countertop, despite the rules encouraging against it written on the chalkboard behind him, ponders hard for a moment, and then, “You like him!”

You almost spill a shot of espresso all over your fingers, letting out a small screech, and look up, doing a bit of a double take at your friend. “Don’t you have better jokes to make?!”

Oliver tosses you a clean towel from underneath the counter space and offers an apologetic smile, but he looks amused. “You wanted my honest opinion. Hot, young stud falls for his tutor who also works as a barista? The prompt just writes for itself.”

You swallow a gagging noise. “Please don’t ever refer to Rin as a hot, young stud… even if it is true.”

“If we want to peel back several more layers, maybe this is all part of Sae’s elaborate plan to hook you up with someone.”

“Can’t you have another family emergency again?” You like Oliver. He’s possibly your only favorite coworker out of all the other part-timers, but you’re very unimpressed with him right now. “I’m still in college. You’re acting like I’m going to be forever alone, or something.”

“While that might be true,” Oliver agrees, mildly. “I still think the kid might just be bad with… y’know, showing emotions.” He motions his hands in a heart shape near his chest. “I was like that when I was his age, too.”

“Gross, now you’re just making yourself sound like an old man.” With that beard, it sure adds a few years to his face. No wonder he’s so popular with the ladies.

“You should be more honest with yourself,” he softly chastises, offering you a blueberry muffin that he definitely stole from the back. “Life would feel a lot easier.”

“You talk as if I’m a fictional character in some stupid story,” you sigh, gracefully accepting the baked good in defeat.

There’s a part of you that feels bitter after the conversation, afraid that he’s right. You’ve been solely focusing on your academics for the most part, and that’s not to say that you haven’t had others showing interest in you. 

You remembered Oliver hounding you down on your very first day at the coffee shop, trying to get your attention by making you clean up his spills, not sure why he thought that was a good idea… Another guy from your department also tried hitting asking you out by creating a fake math problem that would eventually lead to him asking for your number, but the variables were messed up and all over the place that it didn’t make any sense. 

You don’t put relationships on a high pedestal, and you don’t necessarily need to be in one right now. Maintaining a steady income and keeping your scholarship should be your top priority. That, and not falling for your best friend’s brother.

Things go uneventfully for a little while longer at the shop. You and Oliver were going to put on the latest episode of the Bachelor to pass the remaining shift but, by the time you were just about to finish setting up the monitor, the front door bell chimes.

You blink. You and Oliver are in the corner tucked at the back of the store. It’s ten minutes until closing and your stomach churns wildly at the thought of another inconsiderate customer. Because if it happens to be another frat guy ordering a “secret menu” item that some person made up on TikTok again… well, you’re gonna start crying.

“I’ll go take care of it,” you sigh, fishing out the store’s keys out of your pocket. “Just tell me who the guy ends up with.”

Oliver grins as he presses the play button. “Roger that, boss.”

You hadn’t really expected to see Itoshi Rin of all people to swing by.

He barely gets any words out when you emerge to the front counter, needless to say you were the same. After a few mindless scrabbling around and awkward shifting, Rin spits out that he needs an emergency tutoring session, back at his apartment of all places. And, at some point in the night, between your mind turning into mush and Rin refusing to look you in the eyes, Oliver sends you off a little early before you have the chance to help him close.

Which ultimately leads you off here.

“So, what’s the burning question you have for me?” you ask, setting down your book bag on the floor. 

Rin’s apartment is a lot minimalistic compared to yours, and more on the traditional side. His place is a bit further out of the downtown area, into the quieter parts of Tokyo, but not terribly far from the school’s public transit. Here, the buildings aren’t skyscrapers and the traffic is manageable, which means a lot more parks and greenery. 

Instead of a dining table with chairs, he opted for a low coffee table and cushions instead. There’s tatami flooring, a small bookshelf in the corner with organized sports magazines, textbooks, and a few horror films. Hanging on the walls are a variety of posters; most of them are famous foreign football players and some are a few popular movie covers. 

The coffee table is placed right near his bedside, so it makes a perfect back rest for you. Rin keeps a small desk lamp on, he’s mentioned to you in passing that small amounts of warm lighting helps him focus. This setup is certainly a lot more comfortable compared to yours.

Rin decides to sit next to you this time, pulling out an array of notebooks from his bag and fidgets with his pens on the table before flipping to his last pages of notes. “It’s about… torque and resistance.” He buries half of his face into his palm as his fingers trace, almost obsessively, through the notes. From one glance, his writing looks coherent enough, better from when he first started out.

“Um, yeah, sure,” you keep a close eye on him. Rin is behaving rather strangely. Restless, agitated, annoyed, or a combination of all three. Though, a minute into the small lecture, Rin softly calls out your name. “Y-Yes?” you can begin to feel your neck growing dangerously hot.

“About that night, last week…” he finally pushes the words out, but lets them hang in the air, inconclusive.

Your cheeks flare up, and you turn away, clearly embarrassed. Suddenly, you feel like a complete idiot all over again. “I—I’m sorry about that,” you stammer out, staring down at your fingers. “I don’t know what came over me, everything was so dark and—”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he consoles, quickly. “I’m glad that it happened. It was… I… it was good.”

It’s a bit of a rambling response, but it leaves you stunned and flustered, without even realizing it.  You finally turn to look at him, eyes a little misty, your cheeks still warm. You’re relieved by Rin’s reply. You open your mouth to respond back, but nothing tangible comes out.

“I want it to happen again,” Rin finds himself saying, tone suddenly low and dark. He shoots you a look, one that you can’t quite interpret. It’s like he’s hovering somewhere between concern and fear that he’s pushing too far. And maybe he is, but you are too.

You let your legs slip out from underneath and you lean up against Rin’s bed. If it wasn’t there, you’d collapse for sure.

Rin follows suit but pulls away from you abruptly, and you manage to look up just in time to catch the flush in his cheeks and neck. It’s hard to see it in the dark but, if Rin’s body language is anything to go by, he’s incredibly embarrassed. 

“Are you okay?” His voice is quiet, and you manage a shaky nod, but that nod is immediately followed by another involuntary sound from the back of your throat.

“I, um, should we tell…?” 

You’re not entirely sure where Rin stands with his relationship with Sae, nor if both of you can predict the outcome of what would happen. Sae is still a close friend, but you can’t hide the fact that you like Rin away from him forever. Plus, would this even realistically work out? Graduate school, job interviews, things of that sort aren’t in Rin’s horizons, but…

“We don’t have to do anything right now,” he seems to catch on and clears his throat, looking away. “I just wanted to make my feelings clear.”

You briefly think back to Oliver’s advice earlier in the night, about being more honest with your feelings. How things will magically become easier. It’ll be unfair if you didn’t pour out your heart like Rin had done just now. But words can’t be the only way of showing your honesty.

“We can take it slowly,” you stumble out.

Screw it, maybe you can ask Sae for a favor after you’re done tutoring.

Those words seem to melt Rin’s hard exterior almost instantly. Wrapping both your arms around his neck, you press a chaste kiss to his inviting lips.

Rin doesn’t say anything else, but there’s another little teasing nudge of his shoulder bumping against yours, and it somehow communicates more than it should.

taglist: @hellothere9597 @itzmeme @scaraslover @kidd3ath @torureadz

a/n: hi again everyone... if you've made it this far - thank you ;; this piece might just be the longest fic i've ever written (to date...) and tbh im not sure if i like it ? maybe i do idk!! there were so many times i wanted to throw my laptop against the wall gaah did you know that i originally wanted sae to come in and interrupt towards the end? thank god i didnt otherwise our two main love birds wouldn't have been able to kiss... anyways, ty for reading and hopefully you'll see me around more <3 <3 ty i love you

[hoesformatt]

THE HEAT

matt smut, when i saw this photo of matt on chris’ story I ran to write this

dom!rough!matt • poc!reader friendly

contains: pet names, no use of y/n, established relationship, missionary, choking, dacryphilia, a bit of sadism

word count: 1.6k

summary: matt, chris and you watch the miami heat vs boston celtics game since matt and chris root for their hometown team, and you also do the same for the heats. The stakes get high during the game and your mouth begins to get smart so Matt decides to put you in your place

“You got the drinks?!” I yelled while collecting the snacks off the counter, bringing them to the living room. “Getting this ready for a fucking basketball game is pathetic, drinks, chips, candies?! You don’t need all of that shit." Nick protested against us watching the games because he wanted to watch Edward Scissors-Hands for the umpteenth time.

I jumped onto the couch beside my boyfriend, wearing the green Celtics jersey “We’re gonna beat Miami bad.” He flaunted his team, grabbing the bag of chips I set on the table. Chris crept up, placing three shot glasses and a Casamigos bottle on the table.

“Finally some Caso-freak-hoes, I’m tired of the Julio” Matt scoffed, playing around, looking like he was offended because his favourite drink to sip on was Don Julio.

“With every quarter, whoever is leading the losing team has to take a shot” Chris raised his eyebrows at us, and I took the bet, so we all took a shot for pre-game.

At one point, once the game was beginning, we all sat down on the couch and watched the referee throw the jump ball, which the Heats got the power of. “See we started this off and we’re gonna finish it” He rolled his eyes snatching the bag of chips from my grip, my hand still remaining in the position it was before. Not even a few seconds later, the Celtics had the power of the ball and got a 3-pointer on their first shot.

We watched the first quarter go by quickly as the Celtics led by 9 points, and I shook my head. “We’re smoking the heats right now,” Chris nagged, pulling on my shirt and making me roll my eyes. “You gotta take you shotttt,” he said, singing.

Matt poured my glass to the rim, then passed to me, “Cel-tics, Cel-tics, Cel-tics!” They chanted as the tequila burned my throat. Chris clapped in amusement, pouring my Dr. Pepper into a red cup. Matt smirked with a winner-winner chicken dinner smile, and I stuck out my middle finger in defence, which he smacked down and raised a brow at me. “Don’t try that shit princess.” I stayed silent until the game started again.

Jayson Tatum on the Celtics started off the 2nd quarter with a 3-pointer once again, which got Matt and Chris jumping out of their seats, hollering for their team as I laid back in my seat. By the time that the 2nd quarter ended, Bos 42, Mia 27 and I was taking the piss… and this shot.

Matt once again began to put my shot in, but this time painfully slow, talking his mouth off about how the Celtics are going to shit on my team. I got ahold of my glass. “Shut up before I throw this shot in your face” I said without thinking, downing the liquor in the next few seconds. When I placed my cup down, Matt had his tongue pushing against his cheek, staring straight at me.

I completely ignored him, waiting impatiently for the ads to end and the 3rd quarter to start, I arose from my seat and walked to the kitchen to get more ice for my soda. “I’m not gonna tell you again, I hope you know that” Matt had said following me “Yeah, I know” I bitched.

“Stop being a fucking brat, it’s just a game, and we’re just having fun” I walked back to the couch after slamming the fridge door shut, sitting on Chris’ side of the couch instead since I was getting irritated by Matt.

The third time. For the third fucking time, the Celtics started off with a 3-pointer. It was like they were mocking me on the screen at this point. Once the shot sank in, Matt looked behind the couch and Chris’ head, at me, burning a hole through my head. It was 70 - 45 and at this point, I was so over it that I instead took the bottle off the table and poured myself a shot before the quarter even ended.

I was about to drink the shot when Matt stopped me “Chill out, Miami is done for so you don’t even need to be having your 4th shot of the night” I glanced at him, looking back at the shot, tempted to just take it.

“Don’t tell me what to do, I know how to handle my drinks, plus it’s just a game and we’re having fun right?” I clapped back which made Chris’ jaw drop as he began to snicker, looking at Matt with a you’re going to take that smile, unable to leave his face.

“I think she’s a bit tired now; come on, up” Matt demanded, curving around Chris to grab my wrist and pulled me out of my place on the couch. I resisted at first but then I saw the pissed expression on his face and realized what I had done. He guided me up the stairs, smacking my ass while I walked up too slowly.

I entered Matt’s room and he shut the door loudly behind him “Strip and get on your knees” I hesitantly removed my shorts, then my Miami jersey and my bra and finally my panties.

I listened to his orders and got on my knees to the cold floor and pulled his grey sweatpants and boxers down with me. "You talk too much. How about we use your mouth for something better?”

His cock slapped against my face and he glared down at easily becoming impatient with me, I spit on his tip then spread it around his shaft working with my hands at first.

He pulled my head back from refrain myself from sucking his dick. “You thought you were gonna suck my dick? Brats get their throats fucked”

The back of his head hit the end of the cold sink for support but he still held my hair in his hand and his dick in the other.

“Open your mouth for me princess” He smacked his length on my face before shoving it all on mouth choking me out, my head was in his hands filling my cheeks.

His mouth was at a ‘o’ moans escaping and his head falling backwards, I felt choked out by his girth, warm tear falling down my cheeks “You like being a brat, you can take it” He smiled at my expense, pushing my head so far back that my lips touch his balls, gagging.

My hands held the back of his thighs “Hands behind your back” He slapped my cheek lightly as I winded my hands behind my back, bobbing my head at an animalistic pace. He thrusted his dick towards my face until he pulled out jerking his cock and coming on my face.

“You’re not going to talk to me smart again huh?” I nodded taking the stickiness off my face, licking it off my fingers. “Get into the bed and spread those legs for me, princess” I obeyed his orders, taking my naked body onto the bed, the cold air hitting my nipples, making me wince.

Once Matt took off his jersey, he came up in-front of me, opening my folds and placing his middle finger on my clit, playing with it. He dipped his fingers in me, making me gasp, gaping up at Matt and his dangling silver chain.

Matt finished prepping me and aligned his length to my soaking cunt. I whined loudly as he thrusted his cock into me without remorse. “Matt please, please slow, slow” My hand landed on his chest, “Brats don’t get what they want baby,"  he moaned in my ear.

Matt raised my arms over my head, intwining my fingers with him to press into me deeper. I felt Matt’s warm breath on my neck and our warm skin meshing together. Matt’s thrusts were hard, hitting my g-spot repeatedly at an animalistic pace.

We looked down together, watching his cock disappear and reappear in me “You’re so perfect; this pussy is so perfect." He kissed, sucked, and licked my neck, making dark circles. His sultry words made me wetter, our lewd sounds of moans and whimpers mixed together. I grabbed on his neck so my eyes locked with his and he smirked, not parting with them.

My wet insides squeezed around him as he slid into me feeling his pre-cum leak inside of me. “Say my name princess.” He purposely dug so deep I didn’t even know he could reach that far.

“Matttt— Matthew!” I violently came, my legs trembling with all the pleasure taking over my body. I squeezed Matt’s cock in so hard when I came that he released inside of me. I whimpered with Matt’s and my cum coated in and over my pussy. “We’re going to go back and watch the rest of the game, you better behave.”

“Yes” Matt walked into the bathroom finding wipes to clean between my thighs and my stomach, helping me up. I waltzed downstairs with a limp “Celtics just beat Heats by 20 points” Chris announced.

Matt glanced at me with a grin on his face teasing me “I told you so”

tags: @lunariaxzz @chrissturniolosbitch @leahsbussy @luv4kozume @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @idkwhosnyla @strniohoeee @iiheartstef @nonamegirlxsturniolo @ka1nani @1800chokedathoe @fuzzycupcakebeliever @mattgirly @love4chris @mattslutt @nickgetsmewetter @luhsexcbihh @hearts4chriss @thenickgirl @jnkvivi

[marvellous1917]

Icarus Falling Far.

(Part 3)

Pairing: mob!bucky x tattoo artist!female!reader

Summary: it’s the day after giving the dangerous mobster his first tattoo, and he hasn’t contacted you yet. What a dick.

Warnings: cursing, crime, mentions of guns, stalking/harassment (brief), think that’s it.

Word count: 3.6k ish

A/N: i had no plan to make this story into a mini-series, so if this seems a little unplanned… it is. Anyway, hope you like it my loves 😘

(This is not beta’s so any mistakes are my own)

Part 2 ⬇️:

———————

Bold is readers thoughts

Italics is Bucky's thoughts

This starts in Bucky’s POV.

———————

His home office was always the place he went to feel at peace. Ironic really, considering the dealings done within the room. The walls had seen him order his men to assassinate his rivals, to eliminate anybody that got in their way. The desk had felt the tip of the pen write extortionate contracts, sent silently to some of the cities most powerful people, the non-explicit threat sent with photos of their family’s, to reminds them what they were risking if they refused to comply. The window that felt the full strength of his prosthetic too many times to count. The hole in the floor after one of his employees managed to literally shoot himself in the foot. {guess who}

But his peace was teetering on a cliffs edge. His hands were woven into his hair, pulling to try and alleviate the headache forming. Elbows resting on his desk as his eyes stayed staring at one specific groove in the wood.

A knock at the door broke his trance and he sighed. It was a rule in the Compound that if the boss was in his office and the door was closed, you do not interrupt or enter unless there was an emergency. Only one man was brave enough to completely disregard Bucky’s rule, which had led to some… interesting situations when Bucky had girls in there with him.

“Come in,” he called, knowing the longer he waited to respond, the louder and more incessant the knocking would become.

The door opened and there was Bucky’s very own personal dumbass: Steve Rogers. The man had been a part of Bucky’s life since as long as he could remember, if-fact some of his earliest memories were with Steve; young boys playing cops and robbers together, attempting to protect Steve when he picked a fight he had no business being in- which had led to Bucky getting his ass beat as well, and scheming together about how to make sure that Simon Justin never played baseball again after pulling his sisters hair on the playground.

“Fuck me Buck, I’m not sure if today could have been anymore fucked,” Steve stated as he collapsed on to the couch, flinging his legs over one arm and resting his head in the other.

Today was a stressful fucking day.

It was the day that Bucky was making all necessary moves. Why all the problems had to pop up now, he wasn’t sure. And the kicker to this awful day? He had no time to talk to you, the girl he could not get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. You’d managed to flood his mind, memories of the kiss you shared playing over and over again.

“Did you close the door?” Bucky asked, not moving an inch.

“Yeah.”

“Good because I do not need anyone else talking to me right now,” Bucky said, his voice low and quiet, an air of danger ever-present in his tone.

“C’mon Buck, y’know you love them,” Steve responds with a dopey little smirk on his face, and he tilts his head to make eye contact with the man he calls his brother.

I hate that fuckin smile.

He softly hums his agreement and returns to inspecting the groove on his desk.

“We just gotta talk it out, figure out what the fuck is going on, then plan our next moves accordingly,” Steve says, swinging his legs back to the floor, hands clasped together, his arms leaning on his knees.

“Yeah thanks man, I didn’t think about figuring everything out, maybe I’ll give that a go now” Bucky retorts with weak sarcasm, mind too busy, replaying the events of the day.

“I can leave you alone to get lost in your head, or we can figure this shit out together. It’s your call jerk.” Steve says, tilting his head down to catch Bucky’s eye.

“Alright.”

“Stop pulling your hair jackass.” He adds.

I hate it when you do that.

Bucky drops his hands to the desk and says, “Ok let’s start this debrief with Walker.”

“Nat’s got his ass tied up in the basement for ya, he’s ready when you are.”

“Anybody looking for him?”

“One frustratingly loyal friend, but he has no idea that Johnny-boy is with us. The rest of his little fan club have no idea he’s even missing.”

“Ok, one problem down. Rumlow?” It’s the question he doesn’t want the answer to. He’d much rather spend his time thinking about you. His history with Brock Rumlow was bloody and painful, for both of them. There was only one person from his past that Bucky hadn’t dealt with, and here he was, coming back to ruin the name Bucky had made for himself.

Rumlow knew things about Bucky’s past that made him a a high security threat, but after he failed to blow himself up in an attempt to kill Bucky, he had disappeared. Bucky thought it was finally over, but the asshole popped back up about a year ago, with more power than before, making himself seemingly untouchable by Bucky’s hand.

“Currently moving like he has been, not causing too much trouble for us, though his crew are getting closer and closer to our dealings at the port.” Steve said, a slight look of digits on his face.

“Put extra hands down there for the next couple weeks, see if we can’t scare them off a little.”

“Yes boss. I’ll let them know after this.”

“The commissioner’s dealt with?” Buck asks, remembering the deviation the man had decided to make.

“Yep, send him that gift basket. He called Sam this morning and agreed to our terms.”

“Good. How’s Barton?” He asks, moving into what they class as ‘personal business’.

“Pissed, man. He wants blood for what happened, we all do.” Steve answers, the memory of seeing Clint covered in blood and bruised made his blood simmer.

“We sure it wasn’t Rumlows’ lot, or fuck even Walker?

“Walkers’ fanclub do not have the brain cells, the power, or the information to organise an attack like that, and Parker tracked Rumlow and his men, all are accounted for and have alibis. This is someone new.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. Isn’t two power hungry assholes enough.

“We haven’t found anything? No security cameras, no cell tower pings?” Bucky asks, leaning back in his chair, resting his head on the back.

“Actually, I sent Scott there this morning to check out if there was anything left there and he found something.” Steve responds, some apprehension creeping into his voice.

That got Bucky’s attention. His head snapped back up and locked eyes with Steve who now stood in-front of his desk, pacing back and forth slightly.

“Care to share with the class Rogers?” His voice was hard now, his extreme dislike of not knowing all the information shining through.

Steve exhales sharply, biting his tongue to not retort and piss Bucky off more.

“He found a package tucked behind a dumpster addressed to ‘Bucky Barnes’ that had a memory stick-“

“Like a USB?” Bucky interrupted.

“- Yeah a USB-“ he gets cut off again.

“Then just say USB, calling it a ‘memory stick’ makes you sound 100 years old.”

“-oh dear god, you gonna let me finish?” Steve responds.

Bucky waved his hand at him, a sign for him to continue.

“Scott found a package addressed to you with a USB inside, we gave it to Stark ‘cos Parker was busy tracking down Rumlows crew, and he checked it out and told us it was completely normal, no virus or anything bad in it.”

“Was there anything on it?” Bucky asks, his brow furrowed.

“It..uh..has two pictures on it.” Steve said lowly.

“…of?”

“It’s probably better if I just show you.” Steve said, his tone of voice made Bucky a little nervous.

Steve took out his phone, tapped a couple of time before turning it around to give to Bucky. As soon as the latter had ahold of the phone, Steve took a full step back, which caused Bucky to raise his eyebrows in question.

“Just look.” He says in response to Bucky’s unasked question.

He looked down at the screen and almost immediately removed his left hand as to not break the phone.

Fuck. Shit.

The first picture was of the night he met you. It was taken through the window for you apartment, and clearly showed both you and Bucky, stood side by side, looking through your flash book.

“What the fuck is this?” He pushes out through gritted teeth.

“I assuming that’s the tattoo artist you told me about, the one you got a thing for?” Steve says.

The one I’m obsessed with.

When Bucky gives him a sharp nod, Steve just drops his head, suddenly fascinated with his shoes.

“Shit.” He says under his breath.

“What?” Bucky’s voice was louder now.

“Look at the next picture.” Steve says while avoiding eye contact.

Bucky looks down, his finger swiping to the next picture before he can think about it.

No. No no fuck. Not her.

The next photo was taken from inside the apartment. Inside your bedroom. It’s of you. Asleep. Completely unaware of the danger stood at the foot of your bed.

Bucky couldn’t look away, he was frozen staring at the picture. Your shorts and oversized tee had both ridden up slightly, showing how truly vulnerable you are. The clock on your table showed the time as 3:54 and showed the date.

“…this was taken this morning.”

“..yeah.”

fuck.

———————

Fuck Bucky Barnes.

The bastard hadn’t contacted you since the shop.

Bitch ass told me to keep my phone on so I wouldn’t miss his message, kept me glued to my phone like a weirdo waiting for him to call… and he didn’t. Dick.

Despite the annoyance at the very very attractive mobster, you couldn’t help wonder how he was, what he was doing, if he was thinking about you too.

You’re overthinking about Bucky was interrupted by a knock at your door.

“One sec!” You shout to whoever’s there, getting up and walking to the door. The second you undo the lock, the door is being pushed into your face with a chorus of greetings.

“Come in I guess,” you say to the three who just walked in.

“Well thanks darlin, you got food?” Billy responds, already making his way to the fridge.

“Don’t fucking eat my pizza Bill, I swear I’ll kill you,” you answer, giving both Frank and Curtis a hug, letting the door close behind them.

He laughs off your threat as the others take a seat on your couch.

“Not that I don’t love you guys, but why the fuck are you here?” You ask, moving back to the arm chair in the corner and taking a seat, your phone pinging in the back ground.

“What, we can’t pop in on you whenever we want?” Frank says, leaning back in the arm of the couch, moving to put his feet in the coffee table.

“Frankie if you put your feet on my table, I’m gonna beat you with a spoon.” You call at him.

He freezes and slowly lowers his feet back to the floor.

“We just wanted to come see how you were…Frank told us about Barnes.” Curtis says, cutting into the conversation and completely dampening the mood.

God-fucking-dammit Frank.

Oh fuck do I tell them that he’s not an issue and I actually quite like him.

“Yeah are you ok sweetheart?” Billy asks and he collapses on the couch in the middle of the other boys.

“I’m fine guys, I swear, like I told Frank he’s actually not bad,” you answer, shifting uncomfortable lay in your seat due to the indecision of how much to tell them, “He was nice, polite and kind of…charming, I guess-”

“Is that why you kissed him?” Frank interrupts.

Shit, how does he know?

“-what?”

“You kissed him. Or rather he kissed you but you seemed to enjoy it.” Billy says with an annoying smirk on his face.

“How do you know that?” You ask, shock still written all over your face.

“..the security cameras, kid. You forget about those?”

Ahh fuck.

“Ahh fuck,” you say out loud.

“What the hell are you doing making out with a mobster, Y/N?” Curtis responds, looking at you with those eyes of his that show he’s not judging, just trying to understand.

“I..uh..I wasn’t-really-thinking.” You put you hands on your head, even though Curtis wasn’t judging you, the other two definitely were.

“Obviously you weren’t, he’s a goddam mobster Y/N-” Billy starts, anger in his voice, but you cut him off.

“I know that Bill, ok, I do,” you say, shifting to place your feet on the floor, “but he’s not the animal you think he is, he’s kind and considerate and he makes me feel…” happy. you cut off before the last word, wanting to keep that realisation to yourself for a little longer.

“Plus you bastards can’t be judging me for meeting the guy twice, only yourselves and the devil knows what fucked shit you three have been up to.” You almost shout.

“The fuck does that mean?” Frank answers.

“C’mon Frank I’m not stupid, you three have some shady shit in your pasts. I mean you were goddam military for fucks sake, and don’t think I don’t see the fake payments on the books at the shop-“

“Stop Y/N.” Billy cuts you off. “Stop it now.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving yours.

You were about to respond to his demand, when a knock sounded at the door.

“Told you to keep you phone on.” A dark voice calls through the door.

Oh shit. No no no not now please not now.

“Who the fuck is that?” Frank asks, suddenly sitting up straight, eyes pinned on the door. Both Billy and Curtis stand, facing the door as if waiting for it to bust off it’s hinges.

“Please all of you, shut the fuck up and don’t do anything dumb,” you answer, moving towards the door.

“Is that him?” Curtis asks.

“Didn’t I just say shut the fuck up,” you retort a little snappier, opening the door slightly.

He cut his hair, it’s looks good on him.

Bucky lowers his arm from his thwarted attempt at a second knock and says, “Is your phone broken or are you ignoring me?” The smirk on his face made your heart beat a little faster.

“Neither, I just missed your text because I have some friends over right now,” you say.

“Is that why you’re not opening the door properly? I can barley see you,” he says with a grin.

“…kinda? Ok wait..” you exit your apartment, pulling the door closed fully behind you, “long story short, they know about the k.. uh about what happened at the shop, and they know who you are and they are not happy about it.”

His eyes darken and his smirk grows wider at the almost mention of the kiss. He shifts until he’s leaning his shoulder on the wall by your door.

“Oh yeah? Doesn’t really matter what they think though, does it doll? Both you and I know how much you enjoyed it.” He says, mouth forming a cheeky grin.

Oh my god.

“Me? You’re the one who started it Bucky, seemed you enjoyed it more,” you respond, having no idea where the confidence came from.

He hums at your statement and says “Well I can admit that I did enjoy our kiss sweetheart, but I may need a little reminder of how it went, it’s been a long day you see.”

“Bucky-” you’re cut of by him stepping closer until your chests are barley touching, the new position making you tilt your head back to see him better.

“What darlin? You ok with this?” He asks slowly, tilting his head to the side slightly, looking into your eyes for any sign of discomfort.

Why does he have to be so sweet.

You nod in answer to his question and he smiles. Not the terrifying grin or the cheeky smirk, but a genuine smile - one that makes him even more beautiful. Bucky raises his right arm, dragging his thumb over your lips and cupping your cheek while you stare up at him, his other hand sneaks around your back, pulling you flush to him.

“You have no idea what to do to me, do ya?” He mumbles, probably not intending for you to respond as he’s closing the gap between you. The kiss is harsh and a little messy, shocking you slightly with his apparent desperation, hands holding you tightly. He takes advantage of your shock, tracing your lips with his tongue and pushing past to deepen the kiss.

His hand drops from you face to your waist, gripping so tightly, you’re sure he’ll have left a bruise. That thought got you’re heart pumping faster, the idea that an imprint of his hands, his fingers would be left on your skin. It felt right. Bucky pushes you until your back hits the wall, hips fitting against yours almost perfectly, one leg sneaking between yours as you let a light whimper escape.

You break the kiss to get some air, leaning your forehead against his, both of you catching your breath.

“Bucky, I mis-”, you didn’t get to finish the sentence before your door opens and you’re suddenly faced with three pissed off ex-marines.

-(Bucky’s P.O.V)

Bucky immediately steps back, releasing you, and straightens his posture. He looks at the men, quietly analysing them. He can tell that they either are or were military, and definitely care immensely about you, probably to the point of beating the crap out of anyone that hurt you.

The one in the middle is a frightening creature , he thinks, but the wedding band means he has something to loose, he should be less quick to anger, in theory.

The one on the right with the short buzz cut and the tense muscles reminds him of Clint, he’s ready to fight at the drop of a hat, and by the look on his face, I’m gonna be his next target.

The man on the left intrigued Bucky the most. His face is blank, showing nothing. He’s favouring one of his legs, and the other shows a bulky piece of metal at the bottom. Wonder if that’s an old military injury.

“Guys, what are you doing?” You ask, apprehension in your voice. Bucky wonders if you’re scared for them or for him.

“Oh we are gonna head out, let you have some time to really think about what we talked about.” The man in the middle says, putting emphasis on the word really.

“Frank please-”

“No it’s ok sweetheart,” Bucky bristles at the pet name the Clint wannabe says, “we’ll see you later.”

“Billy-”

“Shit, I left my phone on your table, could you get it for me?” The other says to you, cutting off your words, smiling at you to calm the stressed look on your face.

“Of course Cutis, one sec,” you respond, Turing to Bucky at the end of your sentence with a look at says please don’t make this worse.

You pass by the men and let the door fall closed behind you.

The silence is tense as the men all stare at each-other.

“So…how’s your man doing? Y’know the one that got jumped,” Billy says, smirking at Bucky.

“How do you know that?” Bucky asks as his muscles tense.

“…Y/N told us, obviously,” Billy says.

The pause was intentional, she didn’t tell them that.

“He’s fine, thanks.” Bucky responds shortly, all to aware of the lie he was just told.

The door opens just before Billy can respond, all four men going silent again.

“Here it is Curtis, guess I’ll see you guys later then,” you say, before hugging each man.

The three shoulder past Bucky as if he was just a man on the street, no care in the world that he could have them killed for that disrespect. But he lets this one slide, for her, as they’re her friends.

“Did you tell them about Clint?” He knows it was a lie but he needs to make sure his cynical brain isn’t marking it up.

“No? Why?” You answer, unaware of the turmoil occurring in Bucky’s head.

Then how the fuck do they know.

“Give me one minute doll, I forgot something at the car,” he says, “go on inside I’ll be back soon.”

“Uh.. okay.” You answer, walking back into the apartment.

He watches the door and as soon as it closes he is moving back down the stairs, hoping to catch and ask the men how they knew about Clint. Bucky normally has an reasonable explanation for everything, but this time he was stumped. He catches them outside the front door to the building, the three of them stood leaning against their car, watching the door, waiting for him to come out.

“How do you know?” He repeats his question from before, voice lower and more dangerous now.

“Y’know…that bastard has a solid right hook.” Billy says. The sentence sends red hot anger through Bucky’s blood.

It was them. But that means…

“Did you get our package?” The big one in the middle asks, Frank, she called him.

Fuck. The anger that has been burning in his veins since the second he saw those photos of you pours out of him and he immediately pulls a gun on Frank.

“Hey now that’s not smart, is it?” Curtis asks in a placating tone.

“Don’t forget about our girl up there. What’s she gonna think if you shoot me for no reason?” Frank says, unflinching staring down the barrel of Bucky’s gun.

Fuck. Fuck. These bastard are the ones threatening everything, they jumped Clint and are using you to get to him. They’re your friends and you? You have absolutely no idea.

————

Yo this took so long to do!! Hope you like my lil twisty turn at the end there 😈.

Lemme know what u think 😘

Tagged :

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[cybertronic69]

:p savage starlight

you and ellie, for some reason, never got along very well. you would say you two pretty much hated each other. ellie would say you're the prettiest thing she's ever seen the same. and today you two got paired up for patrol.

warnings: enemies to lovers , loser!ellie , nerd!ellie , sub!ellie , nipple sucking (e!receiving) , clit rubbing (e!receiving) , thigh riding (r!receiving)

◇

"come on! we gotta go..." ellie is impatiently knocking on your door. when you open it with a grumpy expression, she sighs. "hey, dumbass, we're patrolling together today."

"why the fuck do they keep pairing us up together?" you mumble as you start to walk with ellie right by your side.

"don't know, don't care, i could just go without you." ellie says and that's an absolute lie. patrolling with you is the best part of her week. she doesn't want you to know that. you just roll your eyes at that as you both keep walking in the streets of jackson.

ellie stays silent for a few seconds. "i just realized something. you suck" she blurts out like you asked.

"oh, yeah? why?" usually you'd just ignore her but today was a boring day so she might as well be useful and entertain you.

"yeah." she stated plainly. "i can name a thousand reasons why you suck."

you let out a snicker. "go on..."

"alright. number one. you're an annoying little shit with a punchable face." ellie blurts out with a bland expression. she was hoping this could get a reaction out of you. like some curses being thrown at her. she was kinda into it. she also doesn't want you to know that. you chuckle at her words. you think she's actually kind of funny. you dont want her to know that.

"number two. you're always making dumbass statements that piss me off." ellie's eyes are focused on every little movement of your face.

"really?" you raise an eyebrow "name one."

"well for starters, when we first met you said that a dinosaur with horns called 'triceratops' was a unicorn." she narrows her eyes at you.

"who cares..." you let out a dramatic sigh. "they're all fucking dead anyways"

"i care. number three. i want to punch you in the face when you give me that dumb look of yours." she says, rolling her eyes.

you snicker. you really do give her a dumb look sometimes. pisses her off. at least that's you think. "anything else?"

"of course. i have a list of your habits in my notebook that annoys me." she snarks.

"i think you a crush on me ellie... did you ever think about that?" you whisper in teasing tone and give her a smug grin like you just got her.

"god no. number four. the way you walk pisses me off." she's not looking at you this time.

"just admit it... it's obvious you're obsessed with me." your eyes sparkle with mischief. "didn't you just say you write about me in your little love diary or whatever?"

"notebook. i said notebook." she says as her breath starts to hitch.

"yeah, yeah... notebook, diary.... whatever" you roll your eyes. "doesn't change the fact that you think about so much that you have to write about it."

she turns a bright shade of red and suddenly stops walking. "can you... just shut up? your voice is annoying. that'd be number five."

"that's pathetic, you know that? you liking me" you tease as you watch her face getting even more flushed.

"dude. i dont like you. i literally can't stand you. shut up." she mumbles as she looks away.

"ok. so you totally despise me, right?" you whisper as you slowly walk closer to her.

ellie feels like she's about to pass out. you smell so good. your skin looks so soft. your lips- "y-yes." she stutters. "i hate you." she can't even look you in the eyes anymore. her gaze is glued to the ground.

you can't help but chuckle. god, was she a mess. "yeah?" you hold her chin with your index finger, making her look at you. ellie blushed profusely. she was unable to utter any words as she look up at you, her face flushed.

"pussy." you whisper against her face.

she turns her head away again and closes her eyes hard. "shut up." she mumbles.

"can't even admit it to yourself..." you gently caress her cheek. "tell me the truth."

she stays silent for a few seconds and takes a deep breath. "...i've liked you ever since you said that a triceratops was a unicorn."

"that's cute." you smile at her. it wasn't a mocking grin like she'd usually get from you. it was a true soft smile that made ellie's heart beat faster.

"um... shut up..." she mumbles awkwardly. she can't belive she just said that to you.

"is that the best comeback you could come up with?" you gently brush her hair out of her pretty face.

ellie blushes at your soft touch and finally looks up at you again. "maybe it is. i'm not very good with comebacks. or anything, really."

"you were good at roasting me back there." you twirl a lock of her hair in between your fingers. "but i guess you had a lot of time to think about it beforehand..."

"yeah. i... to be honest.. i think about you a lot." she whispers and closes her eyes at your gentle touch. oh, she was cute. her cheeks were still pink and her pretty lips were slightly quivering from the tension in the air.

you gently press your lips against her cheek. "what do you think about?"

when she feels your soft lips on her skin she really really has to try her best to hold in a moan. "well usually, i think of, uh." she seems hesitant to say anything."i think of how pretty i think you are." she continues, now looking up at you. "sometimes, I think about how much i want to kiss you."

the corners of your mouth slightly curl up in a little smile. "yeah? what else?"

"i uh.." ellie is speechless for a moment. then, she begins to speak quietly. "i think about how much I love hearing your voice."

"i'm pretty sure you said my voice is annoying..." you tease but a soft smile is still plastered on your face.

ellie looks down at the ground. "i mean...your voice is annoying when you say stupid things." she teases back, in a attempt to hide her blush. despite her best efforts, her face was still red. "but, your voice sounds pretty when you say certain things."

"what things?" you start to trace little invisible circles on her cheek.

"well, um.." she begins to whisper, softly. "your voice is pretty when you say my name."

"really?" you press a kiss on her cheek. "ellie." a kiss on her forehead. "ellie." a kiss on her temple. "ellie." a kiss on her chin. "ellie..." you stop right in front of her lips.

she couldn't speak for a moment, as your touch made her even more flustered. "yeah... it's pretty when you say it like that." she whispers softly.

"do you want a kiss?" you whisper in a tone just as soft.

"what-" she's taken aback by the question, and she feels herself blush even more. "uh, yeah?" she managed to whisper, very quietly. you gently lock lips with her, and ellie instantly moans when she feels your hot tongue against hers. she gently holds your face with her hands as you caress her hair during the kiss. when you both pull back out of breath, you see her lips wet with saliva as she's trying to recompose herself. she looks way too cute... you're only human. you get closer to her again and gently suck on her bottom lip.

ellie let out a noise in between a groan and a whimper at this. "can i... can i have another one?"

"yeah... you can... later... when we're back... " you plant a soft peck on her cheek and start walking. "there's something i want to give you."

she looks extremely flustered with all of this. "oh... okay." she tries to hold back a smile when you offer your hand to her. she takes it. "what is it that you want to give me?"

you couldn't wait. "just walk..." you say in a soft voice.

◇

"uh... make yourself at home." ellie awkwardly says as the both of you get to her room. that was your idea, of course.

"nice place..." you whisper as you look around. comic books, video games and little action figures were all over the place. god, she was such a nerd.

"thanks..." she's nervous and you can feel it. you have to do something about that.

"oh... savage starlight, huh?" you dont know who the fuck savage starlight is but ellie, on the other hand, has tons of these comic books lying around.

her eyes shine. "oh yessss!" she smiles excitedly at you. "do you read that too?"

you shake you head and can't help but smile with her. so cute. god. "no... is it cool?"

ellie grabs a few comic books and pat the spot on the bed next to her. "so cool... here. let me show you" when you sit by her side, you notice a pair of glasses at her nightstand, and your heart beats faster. she wears glasses. oh. my. god. ellie notices you looking. "ah yeah... i have to wear those when i read... helps with headaches."

you grab the glasses and gently put it on her face. "since you're reading now..."

ellie blinks and swallows hard. "y-yes... so savage starlight..." she starts talking. "it's about her adventures in space... i like it because starlight is pretty cool." ellie then turns to you, tilts her head, and adds in a small whisper. "kind of like you." she said and then continued. "also..." you had to fuck her. all that talk about her nerdy stuff, and how she looked with those glasses, and how her fingers traced the pages of the comic book, and... "...and then she discovered like... a way to travel faster... with a jump drive..." ellie keeps talking and don't even notice your lustful gaze at her.

you lay your head on her shoulder and pretend to pay attention the comic book. "a jump drive, els?" you whisper softly.

"yeah... and the bad guys are called the t-" her voice cracks when she feels you planting a hot kiss on her neck." the travelers...."

"yeah? what else?" you bury your face on her neck.

ellie takes a deep breath. "they're like... aliens..." she bites her lip hard when she feels another kiss on her neck. "a-and... they want to..."

you sit in her lap, straddling her thigh. "they want to...?"

she stares up at you with the most miserable look ever known to man plastered on her face. "...want to destroy... the earth..."

you start to firmly massage her shoulders that are really tense. "so savage starlight is going to beat them up?"

ellie presses her lips in a thin line, scared to let any noises come out. then she starts talking again. "yeah... her name is daniela star... she's... a doctor..."

"hmmm..." you peck her jaw.

"and... and then..." she takes a deep breath.

"and then what?" you slowly start to move your hips on her thigh, back and forth.

ellie's hands immediately get to your hips, and she buries her head on your shoulder. she takes another deep breath. god, you're evil. "and then... like... the travelers have this technology..." you suck hard on her neck, and she groans. "and... starlight... is now friends with..." ellie's voice is whiny, shaky, and breathy. "...with this one guy... he's the captain of...." you slide one hand down her body and cup her pussy. "....nngh... a... s-spaceship..." she shuts her eyes hard.

you lick your lips. "spaceship, huh?" you squeeze her chest as you bite her neck.

ellie digs her fingers into your hips. she's panting, her face is hot and she feels like she's about to faint. "....u-um..."

"keep talking, els... im interested..." you smile against her neck.

"t-the spaceship... crashes... but they survivenngh...." her voice turns into a whine when you start to rub your clothed cunt against her thigh even harder. "o-oh... i... i like the-the way... i-i, i-i like... i-i like th-that you're u-up on m-me... right now."

"yeah? you like it? can i make you like it even more...?" you press a kiss on her ear. "hm?"

"y-yes... yes please..." she whines. you lock lips with her, and ellie lets out a noise again. you're full on feeling her up now, your hands touching, cupping, and squeezing every part of her body.

"is this okay?" you whisper softly as your hands start to slowly lift her shirt up. "how far can i go?"

she takes a deep breath so her words won't be sloppy. "you can do whatever you want with me..."

you feel your pussy clench at her words. "whatever i want?" you whisper in a breathy tone. she was getting to you.

ellie nods. she wrap her arms around you, bringing your body even closer to hers as you're in her lap. "anything..."

"i... wanna take this off..." you gently tug at the hem of her shirt. "and maybe this too..." your fingers trace the buttons of her jeans. ellie nods again, eagerly. she takes her shirt off, and your gaze is now glued to her small, perky breasts. "oh..." you take her pink hardened nipple in between your fingers, and she whimpers. "god..." your mouth starts to water. you push her back in the bed, still mounting her hips. "els... you're too pretty..." you take her nipple into your mouth and gently suck on it. ellie mewls. her hips start to buckle up against yours. she has never felt anything like this before. of course, she would rub one out from time to time... maybe every night... when you sat too close to her... and she could smell the scent of your shampoo... and your knee accidentally touched hers... she had no choice. it's your fault. somehow she'd always end up there, in her bed, late at night, biting the pillow with two fingers moving back and forth inside her tight cunt. but it never felt this good... "els..." you whisper and she looks down at you with glossy eyes, her glasses almost slipping off her nose. "wanna fuck you..." she can't even say anything anymore. she just nods eagerly again as little gasps escape her lips. your body is completely on top of hers, you hips lined up with her left thigh. "lets do it like this..." you start kissing her neck again as your hand slips under her jeans. "raise your thigh..." ellie is complete mess right now so it takes a while for her to take your words in. she raises her thigh, pressing it against your cunt. "mmh...yes... im gonna fuck myself on your thigh... and touch this pretty pussy of yours, ok?" you whisper breathlessly in her neck.

ellie whimpers at your words. "y-yes... so... g-g..."

you whimper with her. "so good, right, baby?" you're pressing your clothed cunt against her thigh and gasp when ellie moves her body with you, her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. ellie is a whimpering mess when you slowly start to rub her little clit with a light amount of pressure. her hips are trembling and she has her face buried in your neck, her lips brushing against your skin. you're desperate. it feels too good to be close to her like this. you wanna make her cum. you wanna cum. and just like that, like she was reading your mind, ellie presses her thigh even harder against your pussy and you moan. you quicken the pace of your fingers on her clit and she cries out. her veiny hands grip hard on your hips moving them on her thigh. you cry out too.

ellie starts babbling. "want... you to... fucking... sit... on my face... wanna taste your pussy... so fucking bad..." she rolls her hips against your hand.

"yeah?" you whisper in breathy tone cause now you can't stop staring at her pretty lips without picturing them wrapping around your clit and sucking it.

"nngh... yeah.... so bad..." she grunts. "oh fuck... im g-gonna cum" her eyes are tearing up when she throws her head back. "cum with me... please..." she whimpers.

you nod desperately as you grind you pussy against her thigh even harder, the fabric of her jeans rubbing right on your clit. "im c-close, els..."

"shit... are you?" she whispers with the same desperate expression as you. "please, babe... cum with me..." she grabs your ass and presses your pussy against her thigh even faster. you bite her shoulder when you feel your orgasm hitting you and that was all ellie needed. she came hard on your fingers with a loud curse leaving her lips. you're both panting as you take your slick covered hand off ellie's jeans. her gaze is following your every moment so when you take your fingers inside your mouth and moan she moans with you. you kiss her lips with your fingers still inside your mouth. it's kinda nasty... and disgusting... and everything else on the book but ellie doesn't mind. in fact she seems very eager to do more of these nasty things with you in the future. and so are you.

◇

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 3

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of sex, mentions of cheating, mentions of emotional abuse (Chrissy’s mom), absent parent, daddy issues, jealousy. Billy being Billy… it’s not what you think

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: Someone you don't want to see shows up at your doorsteps.

Word count: 6.7k

Note: @mysticmunson thank you for helping me as always, you're the best! @somethingvicked thank you for the idea with Billy, it's working perfectly for this story

series masterlist

-

Steve had been so on edge ever since he found out about you and Billy. He knows that Tommy and Carol aren’t the most honest people. They strive off of chaos, they live for the drama and the lies and constantly make up new things to gossip about but for some reason, he believes their words this time. Billy had been following you around ever since he broke up with you– he had been running after you for some time now but never like this. You always rejected him, you were taken and not interested but now Steve can’t help but wonder, were you truly not interested or were you just rejecting him because you were with him? Were you secretly into Billy all this time? The thought of it makes him feel sick. 

He sits in his car, bouncing his knee as he stares out the window, waiting for his girlfriend. The parking lot is filled with students, he hears laughter and different voices. He sees Billy walking towards his car, the usual smug and arrogant look resting on his face. He straightens up, looking around to see if you’re around too, wanting to see if you will get in the car with him. What will he do if you do get into his car? 

“Hey!” 

Nancy’s voice startles him a little, he tears his eyes away from the blue camaro and turns to look at his girlfriend. 

“Hey Nance,” he smiles. He instantly leans closer to her once she’s seated, she meets him halfway, kissing him on the lips. Her eyes are closed, his are open and they flash with curiosity when he sees you through his window. You look his way and it’s enough for him to tense up. 

He expects you to get into Billy’s car but instead you go the other way, you pass by his car and look straight ahead, pretending to not see him or her. He breaks the kiss, Nancy doesn’t seem to mind, she leans back and puts the seatbelt on as she begins to talk about her project. Steve hums and nods along, turning his head to see where you are going. 

Are you going to Heather’s car? To Chrissy’s car? It turns out to be neither of those, instead you leave the parking lot and walk into the direction of the football field. Where are you going? 

“I figured that we could rent a movie tomorrow since we can’t hang out tonight,” Nancy says, “I really wanna get it done. It’s been nice to hang out with Jonathan again though, we should all go out together sometime!”

“Sure,” Steve mumbles and turns back to her when he no longer sees you. 

Her brows are raised and a confused smile is on her lips, “were you even listening?” 

He nods, “yeah, you want me to hang out with Byers,” he says with an eye roll. 

“Hey,” Nancy mumbles, hitting his arm, “he’s nice, you just gotta get to know him.” 

“Sure,” he chuckles, running his fingers through his hair, “nice.” 

Nancy shakes her head at him, raising her arm, she pulls down the sun visor and flips open the small mirror, a piece of paper that was tucked into it falls into her lap. Her brows knit together as she looks down at it. She picks it up, it’s just a simple brown paper that was ripped out of a notebook, she turns it around. Annoyance bubbles inside of her when she sees the writing on the note. It’s not much but it’s from you, it’s not signed but she recognizes your handwriting and the little heart, only you draw it like that. 

I love you 

She presses her lips together and glances over at Steve who is staring into blank space. 

How long has the note been here? Does he even know that it existed? 

“Here,” Nancy mumbles and throws it into his lap. 

Steve glances at her first, brows furrowed and lips parted, he notices the annoyed look on her face. He looks down at the note in his lap. Oh. 

“I didn’t know you still kept her things.”

Steve blinks as he stares at your handwriting. You drew a little heart next to your I love you. He swallows harshly. The weird feeling in his chest returns yet again. He didn’t even know the note was there– you did things like that all the time, leaving little notes everywhere for him to find. He kept them all. 

“I don’t,” he lies as he puts the note in his pocket after folding it, “I didn’t even know it was there. I’ll throw it away later.” 

Nancy nods, eyeing him from the side. She doesn’t like the way he folded the paper so neatly. He should’ve crumpled it up and thrown it out the window. 

“Okay.”

-

The scented candles in your room are lit, making the air smell like pumpkin spice and cinnamon. The light of your salt lamp makes everything appear softer, you never use the big light in your room, you hate it. The police’s every breath you take is playing in the background. 

“Are you going to the winter formal?” Chrissy asks as she flips to the next page of her new fashion magazine. You are both laying on your bed, the decoration pillows all over the floor. You look at the pretty dresses in the magazine. You would be wearing one of those next Friday if Steve wasn’t such a cheating asshole. 

“Nope.” 

She glances at you with a sad look in her eyes, “we could go together.” 

You give her a small smile as you shake your head. 

“No, it’s okay,” you say, “I don’t feel like going anyway, he’s gonna be there with her.” 

She sighs, her lips are set in a frown, “you know, I never liked him. As much as I hate to say it, I’m not surprised about his actions but Nancy?” She mumbles, “who would’ve thought that she’s such a.. bitch.” 

“Yeah, looks deceive, huh?” 

“Totally.” 

You told your friends about what Nancy said in the girls bathroom when she didn’t know that you were there. 

“She looks like one of those church girls.” 

A surprised laugh leaves your lips, “a church girl?” 

“Yeah, she wears those ugly long skirts and those preppy blouses that my mom forces me to wear when we go to church on Sunday’s,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes. 

“Is she a church girl?” You ask. 

She snorts and shakes her head, “I don’t think so, I’ve never seen her around.” 

You nod. 

She flips to the next page, eying all the dresses before her eyes land on the ugliest one, a giggle falling from her lips, she points at it with her pink nails, “looks like something she would wear.” 

You can’t help but laugh. 

“And that’s why she won’t ever be prom queen, that’ll be you,” you say, expecting to see a smile on her face but instead it falls and a frown settles in her features. 

“It’s not prom yet,” she mumbles, “and I don’t really wanna be the queen to some asshole’s king.” 

Raising your brows, you tilt your head as you look at her. Cupping your cheek, you lean your elbow on the pillow beneath you, “you mean, you don’t want to be Jason Carver’s queen?” 

A look of disgust crosses her features and she shudders at the mention of his name. 

“Mom forces me to go with him,” she says, looking like she’s ready to break down out of frustration, “I don’t want to go with him.”

Your gaze softens, you place your hand on her back, “then don’t go with him.”

She keeps her eyes locked on the magazine, “you know how my mom is, I can’t just not go, she’ll make my life a living hell if I don’t do what she says.” 

You never liked Chrissy’s mother, she was always horrible to her. Always pushing her to do and be ‘better’, forcing her to associate herself with people who already climbed up the social ladder, like Jason Carver. 

You sigh, wishing you could help her. 

“What if you just stop doing what she wants you to do?” You shrug. 

She sighs and opens her mouth to speak but you cut her off, holding your hand up, you sit up on your knees, “I know, I know, easier said than done but–” you pause, looking around your room, you eye the freshly washed and ironed cheerleader uniform, the cassettes in the little box on your floor, bands that are his favorites, singers that your friends love so much, you stare at the baby pink wallpaper and the colorful clothes in your messy closet– you should’ve closed the door, the sight of the mess makes you want to groan in annoyance. 

“But?” Chrissy mumbles as she waits for you to continue. 

You blink, tearing your eyes away from all the things in your room that you didn’t come to like on your own. You look back at your best friend. 

“If you do things for others, if you do things because they want you to do them or because they expect you to do them, because they like those things– you will end up feeling miserable at some point, you will lose yourself and one day you’re gonna realize that you don’t even know yourself, that you don’t even know what you like, what you truly want or… who you even are..” 

She lets your words sink in. For a moment it’s silent between the two of you. You look down at your hands while she stares at you. Sadness and realization crossing her features. You are trying to help, she knows it but you are also realizing something about yourself, she can tell by the lost look in your eyes. 

“I know that things would be tense if you just started going against her stupid rules or wishes but you can always come to me if things get tough at home,” you say, reaching out to take her hand, “I’m here and you know my mom won’t mind you staying with us.” 

Her eyes light up at your words, a smile tugs at her lips, she turns her hand around and squeezes yours, “you’re the best, you know that right?” She whispers. 

You smile at her words, you tilt your head, “no, I’m not.”

She frowns and rolls her eyes, “yes, you are.” 

“Says who?” You chuckle. 

“I do,” she says, proudly. 

“Oh,” you smirk, leaning closer to her, you don’t notice the way her eyes widen or the way her cheeks flush a little red, “you do, huh?” 

She blinks, her lips part and she stares at your face. Your face hovers over hers for a second before you lay back down on your bed and reach for the bat shaped pillow, the one you excitedly bought for your ‘halloween’ decoration, hugging it to your chest, you stare up at the ceiling, not noticing her stare or her tense body. 

“A-Are you sure you don’t wanna come to the winter formal?” She asks again. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

She looks down at her hands, “okay,” she frowns. 

“Hey,” you whisper, glancing at her, “you’ll still have fun.”

“With Jason?” She mumbles, rolling her eyes, “I doubt that.”

“You can still go with someone else. If your mom is gonna act like a bitch, I’ll kick her ass for you.”

A giggle falls from her lips and she shakes her head as she looks at you with a smile on her face. 

Rolling on your side, you prop your head up on your hand. Curiosity sparks inside of you. 

“Who did you really want to go with?” You ask, “I know there is someone.” You notice the blush on her face and it only deepens the longer you stare at her. 

“Oh uh–” she chuckles nervously, “n-no one, I just, I don’t wanna go with Jason.” 

“Are you sure about that?” 

She nods. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know that, right?” 

“I-I’m not.” 

“Good, we’re best friends, we tell each other everything, right?” 

“Yeah,” she whispers and gives you a smile that doesn’t really reach her eyes. “I’m gonna go now, I still have to study for the math test tomorrow,” she groans. 

“Oh.. yeah,” you mumble, trying to hide the disappointed look on your face. You hate being by yourself, there’s too much going on in your mind when you’re all alone in this house– you used to love it but ever since he left, it’s just been hard. “I gotta start working on the assignment.” 

Chrissy rolls her eyes just the way she did when you told her about who you got partnered up with. 

“You know, you could still take Billy up on that offer.” 

You snort at her words, “I don’t think we need Billy to kick his ass, Heather will do.” 

“Did you know that she accidentally bumped into him at Nick’s party last weekend? He was holding a drink and it got all over Nancy,” she giggles. 

Your eyes widen, you can’t even fight the grin off your face, “no way?” You gasp.

“Yes way,” she laughs as she reaches for her backpack, “he got all pissed and looked like he was ready to fight but when he saw Heather, he got all quiet– he even looked scared.” 

“He should be,” you chuckle. 

“And Nancy got all hysterical and ran off.”

You snort, “she deserved it.”

“She deserves worse for what she did– they both do,” she sighs. 

She never liked Steve, even before you started dating him, she couldn’t stand him. His presence annoyed her and more so when you two got together and she had to watch how he continuously messed with your feelings. 

“Yeah well, I don’t care anymore, I’m moving on…” 

She knows that there is no truth behind your words, you are not moving on. You still love him, she thinks that you always will. You always looked at him like he was the only light in your life, like he was the one who hung every star in the dark sky, it made her hate him even more because he never looked at you like that. 

“I’ll walk you to the door–”

“No, it’s fine,” she smiles, “you don’t have to.” She walks towards you and pulls you into a hug, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” She squeezes you tightly before she lets go, giving you another smile. 

“Yeah, still gotta help you pick out the right shoes for your dress,” you say. 

She nods, “and maybe I’ll manage to convince you to come, after all,” she says as she pulls away and begins to walk out of your room, “I’d rather go with you than Jason,” she says quickly before she turns around and leaves the room, saying ‘bye’ in a sing song voice. 

You chuckle and throw your head back against the pillow. 

“Jason Carver,” you mumble in disgust. Not a single person could ever force you to go to the winter formal with him but Chrissy’s mother is the epitome of an evil witch, you know that she will make her life more miserable if she doesn’t do as she says. You understand why Chrissy would rather suffer through the night with him than risk a fight with her mother. 

Not even five minutes after she left, the doorbell rings. Looking around the room, you try to see if she forgot something, that’s what usually happens when she leaves, she rushes back in a few minutes later because she left her keys or something else. Sighing, you push roll out of bed and rush out of the room. 

The doorbell rings again. 

“I’m coming!” You call out, “since when are you so impatient..” 

Your socks are a little slippery on the hardwood floor, careful not to fall, you hold onto the railing as you hurry down the stairs. Grabbing the doorknob, you are already smiling in amusement, “let me guess, you forgot–” with your words caught in your throat and your smile falling quicker than ever, you only manage to stare at him in confusion. 

There he is, Steve Harrington, standing on your front porch with his hands in his pocket and an unreadable expression on his face. What does he want? 

Even though it was him who came here to see you, he stands frozen in place. He stares at you and you stare at him. You are both frozen, time stops, everything stops moving, right now, it’s just the two of you in this world. 

It’s the first time you look at him again, properly. All the sadness, all the pain and the longing comes creeping back. It was there all this time, hidden beneath all the anger but it was easier to deal with it when you started pretending like he didn’t exist anymore, when you forced yourself not to look at him anymore, when you threw all his things away, when you let go of him. How dare he show up here? 

Steve watches the way your eyes flash with confusion, anger and sadness, they soften for a split second. This is the first time you actually look at him again. This is the first time you are forced to acknowledge his presence again. A feeling he can only describe as relief rushes through him when you finally look into his eyes again. 

It feels like forever that you look at each other when in reality only a minute passed since you opened the door. You blink and take a step back, rolling your eyes, you go to shut the door without wanting to hear an explanation as to why he is here– “no.” Is all you say before slamming the door in his face but he is quicker than you, he always was. He places his palm on the door, stopping you from closing it, “wait–”

“Get lost, Harrington.” 

He sighs, he didn’t expect anything else from you.

You try to close the door again but he doesn’t let you, keeping his palm pressed against the wooden door, he stares at you with a stubborn look on his face. God, you want to punch him. 

“What do you want?” You ask as you finally give up and let go of the door, you cross your arms over your chest and take a step back, not looking into his eyes. You raise your brows and glare at him when he invites himself into your house, he shuts the door behind him. You shake your head in disbelief. 

He is wearing the stupid flannel that you used to love so much, the one you always stole from him– does it still smell like you? 

“We have to work on the assignment together.” 

Is he serious? 

“I told you, I’ll do it myself,” you snap at him before you turn around and make your way into the kitchen in hopes that he will leave but instead, he follows you into the kitchen. 

“We’re partners, it wouldn’t be fair to let you do all the work by yourself.”

You clench your jaw at his words, how ironic of him to say that. Turning the light on in the kitchen, you walk towards the fridge and open it, distracting yourself from his presence by staring at all the food and drinks. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m used to doing all the work myself, my previous partner wasn’t much of a help,” you murmur, “in any way.”

Steve scoffs at your words, though he looks down in embarrassment, knowing exactly what things you are talking about. He places his hands on his hips and glances at you through his lashes, he eyes you for a moment before he speaks up, “listen, I-I wanna do better in school and I really want to work on this assignment.” 

You close your eyes, shaking your head, you take a deep breath. Why did he have to sit next to you today? 

“Since when do you care about being better in school?” You ask in annoyance, reaching for a water bottle, you close the fridge again and turn around to face him. He breaks eye contact the moment you raise your brows in question. 

He shrugs, “I wanna graduate next year and Mr. Higgins said that I–”

“Don’t care,” you interrupt him and sigh of boredom. 

He looks a little taken aback, furrowing his brows, he stares at you for a moment as he presses his lips back together. When he came here, he didn’t expect you to be so.. mean. Steve only ever knew you as the sweet girl, not once did you treat him badly in all the years he has known you. You never gave him the cold shoulder, not even when he deserved it. You were always kind, gentle and forgiving. 

Heartbreak changes a person but not like this, right? What happened in those two months ever since he left? 

While Steve tries to figure you out. You try to figure out how to handle this situation. 

Should you curse him out and kick him out of your house and show him how hurt you still are? Should you really give him that satisfaction? Or should you pretend to be okay, give him the cold shoulder that you should’ve given him years ago and act like you are fine with this, with working with him? 

You opt for the latter. You don’t want him to see the power he still has over you. You don’t want him to see how much you still want him.  

You can feel his eyes on you, burning into you, it makes your skin crawl. 

You take deep breaths before you look back up at him. 

“Don’t you have better things to do on a Thursday night?” You scoff. You know damn well that he never worked on homeworks or assignments when he was still with you, he had ‘better’ things to do. You were the one that did all these things for him. 

“Can we just work on this?” He sighs.

You roll your eyes and shrug, “yeah.” 

Surprise flashes in his eyes, he didn’t think that it would be that easy to convince you to work with him. For weeks, you wouldn’t even look at him, you wouldn’t even glance into his direction. He figured that it was because of how hurt you were after the breakup but now he begins to doubt that that is why you stopped acknowledging him. 

“Come on then,” you mumble as you make your way out of the kitchen, brushing past him. He nods, looking down at the floor, he turns around and follows you into the hallway, turning the light off on the way out. 

It feels weird to be back in your house, it feels so familiar yet so… strange. There isn’t much in your room that has changed since the last time he had been in here– only the lack of his things is noticeable to him. The bottle of his cologne that used to be on your dresses is gone and so are the collection of polaroids. He frowns, a weird feeling tugs at his heart. You got rid of everything. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does. He looks around the room that haunts his dreams– a piece of clothing that neither belongs to you or him is draped over the chair by your desk. It’s a black denim jacket. Clenching his jaw, he wonders if it belongs to Billy. The thought of you wearing his clothes, of you being with him makes him so.. angry. 

“Are you just gonna stand there?” You mumble without looking back at him. You are already back on your bed with your notebook in your lap. He stares at you, the moment feels too familiar. He remembers climbing up to your window one night, he wanted to surprise you with flowers. You were sitting on your bed just like you do now but instead of the notebook you had a magazine on your lap and you were wearing pajamas. You looked so cute. 

“We gotta settle on a topic,” you say and raise your head to look at him. 

Steve’s brows are still furrowed, he still stares at you. He feels confused, irritated and a little hurt. You seem so.. okay. You look at him and talk to him as though nothing ever happened. Are you okay without him? Are you happier without him? 

He blinks, snapping himself out of his thoughts, he walks towards your desk, he pulls out the chair and sits down. 

“Yeah.. what do you wanna write about?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know, we could totally write an essay about snakes, there’s one in my room, right now.” 

His lips part and his face scrunches up in confusion, it takes him a moment to realize what you mean. His shoulders slump and he scoffs, “very funny.”

“I know,” you smirk. 

“We could write about basketball–” 

Your scoff cuts him off, causing him to roll his eyes. 

“Or about cheerleading–”

“Are you crazy?”

“I think you know more about cheerleading than I do, you were the one who convinced me to do it after all,” you say, tilting your head at him, “remember?”

He leans back in the chair, spreading his legs, he nods at your words and clenches his jaw, “yeah..”

There is so much tension in your room, his presence makes you angry. 

After the initial shock subsided and the sadness turned into anger, you began to curse him for what he did, especially when you found out that he had kissed her while he was still with you. That is something you will never forgive him, the lies and the cheating. 

The anger makes you feel stronger, it keeps the sadness away, for the most part, at least. 

“How about we do something more classy– although, you don’t do classy, so…” 

Steve rolls his eyes at your words, “not like you do it either,” he mumbles. 

You snort, not showing him the anger or the annoyance that you are feeling right now. You tilt your head and stare at him in question.

“I mean, given that you fucked Billy Hargrove out of all people,” he says with a looks of distaste on his face. 

What? 

You almost laugh in his face but you hold yourself back. 

He eyes your expression slowly, waiting for a reaction. He expects you to scoff, to look caught, to look embarrassed, to blush or to deny it all– just the way you always denied your attraction to Billy every time he brought it up but he gets nothing from you. Absolutely nothing and it only fuels his anger even more. The burning in his chest and stomach worsens when you look at him with a straight face. 

You look at him for a while, not moving, not saying anything, he can’t even read the look on your face. After a while, you sigh and look down at your notebook, “so how about we write an essay about Romeo and Juliet?” You ask, “you know, since it’s the only book you actually ever touched.” 

His brows knit together, his cheeks grow red, “are you not gonna say anything?” 

His irrational anger amuses you a little but you don’t show it. 

You look at him through hooded eyes, not raising your head, “I just did?” 

He rolls his eyes and stands up, walking towards you, “I mean about Billy.” 

“What about him?”

“Did you sleep with him?” He asks. 

His eyes flash with desperation. He wants to know, he needs to know. 

How ironic it is to see him beg for an answer when he has no right to even get one. He never gave you the truth so why should you? You are not his anymore.

His eyes are pleading. Why does he want to know? Why does he even care? He has the girl he truly loves, why should it matter what you do or who you do it with? 

“So, I’m not sure if you remember the story but in Romeo and Juliet, there’s obviously that tragic ending so–”

“Y/n,” he sighs. 

You close your mouth and glare at him, you used to love hearing him say your name, now you hate it. 

“Would you rather write an essay about Billy Hargrove?” You ask calmly, giving him a fake smile. 

“No,” he rolls his eyes. 

“Good, cause I don’t either.” 

He runs his fingers through his hair and huffs in frustration, closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“We could write about pride and prejudice.”

You lift your chin and look at him in surprise. You used to reread that book all the time, he knows it’s your favorite– he used to steal it out of your hands, reading some of Mr.Darcy’s lines in a mocking way, back then it made you laugh. 

“You didn’t even read it,” you murmur. 

“I can read it now,” he shrugs, “you still have it, right?” 

“We got a week to finish the essay, Steve. It’ll take you days to even finish and understand that book so don’t even bother–”

“No,” he says stubbornly, “I want to.”

You throw your hands up, “why?” 

‘Cause you wanted to choose the book for your next essay, you told him that weeks before.. her. ‘Cause you love it so much– or used to love it. 

He doesn’t look at you, he stares at the ground and shrugs, “just let me do it, please,” he says, “I can get started on the essay while reading it.” 

You try to figure him out. Why is this so important to him? He used to make fun of that book, of you reading so much. He would laugh whenever you offered to read it for him and now he suddenly wants to read it himself? 

Sighing, you get up and walk towards your bookshelf. You bend down and reach for the book before you turn back to face him. 

It feels weird to see him back in your room– a place he spent so many nights in, a place he used to kiss you in, a place he used to touch you in. 

“Here.” 

You hold it out to him, keeping distance between the two of you as though you are scared to come near him. His fingertips brush yours when he takes the book from you, warmth spreads across his skin and he finds himself looking at your face. 

You quickly pull your hand back and cross your arms over your chest, avoiding his eyes, “well, you should probably get started then,” you mumble, nudging your chin into the direction of your door, subtly kicking him out. 

“Yeah,” he breathes and looks back down, eying the cover of your beloved book, “what are you doing tomorrow night?” 

Just leave, please. You think to yourself. 

“Why?”

“Well, we could start working on it tomorrow,” he offers. 

“Yeah sure.” You don’t want to work with him, you don’t want to see him but agreeing to it will get him out of your house sooner, “I’ll call you.” 

“Okay.” 

You can feel his eyes on you, he is staring and it makes you want to both scream and cry. Leave, just leave. 

“I’ll get going.” He steps away, taking one last look at you before he turns around, “good night, y/n.”

You don’t say anything back, you stay silent, refusing to even look at him. You don’t notice the way he halts in his tracks when his eyes fall on the picture on your wall, the only one left of him. Steve knows that you didn’t keep it up because of him but it still makes something inside of him burn. There’s no other reminders of him left, only this one. You could have cut him out but you didn’t, you kept him there. His eyes soften and he glances at you. You are still standing there in the same spot, with your arms crossed and your gaze stuck to the floor. The urge to– no. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to leave. 

Your fingernails dig into your arms, you bite your lip as you feel the tears welling up in your eyes. The lump in your throat begins to grow. Why did he show up? You hear him walking down the stairs and it feels like forever until he reaches the door. The sob begins to threaten to escape. 

You slowly make your way towards your bedroom door, shutting it quietly. You press your back against it and look up at the ceiling. Tears roll down your cheeks the minute you let your guard down. 

“I hate you, Steve Harrington.”

-

Cold water dribbles down on him, making goosebumps rise up on his skin, he shivers at the feeling but sighs in content when he feels himself getting more energized again. Basketball practice tired him more than usual but that was probably because he stayed up all night, reading pride and prejudice. To his surprise, he ended up liking it more than he thought. Though he can’t stand Darcy for some reason. 

Another thing that kept him up was you. Your indifference, your lack of emotions, the anger and the sadness he had seen in your eyes the last time you had looked at him was gone. There is nothing in your eyes now, just simply nothing. It shouldn’t bother him, in fact, it should make him feel relieved to know that you are not hurting anymore but somehow it hurts him to know that you just don’t care anymore. 

He didn’t love you but you loved him, at least that’s what he always believed. 

Did you realize that you never loved him either? 

“What’s wrong, Harrington? Did you realize that you’re a shit player?” 

He can’t even help but sigh in annoyance. His jaw clenches and so do his fists. He waited until everyone was done showering, not feeling like interacting with anyone, he didn’t know that Billy was still around, if he knew, he would’ve been the first in the shower. 

He opens his eyes and glares at him. 

Billy looks at him with a smirk on his face, he turns the water on and closes his eyes as he steps under the stream. 

Steve decides to ignore him, turning his head away from him, he reaches for his shampoo with shaky hands. Just the presence of Billy is enough for him to shake out of anger. He hates him so much. 

“Heard you were at y/n’s house last night.” 

At that, Steve tenses up. How and why does he know? He keeps his eyes down as he begins to wash his hair. 

“Yeah, so?”

Billy chuckles, taking a moment to reply. 

“What were you doing there?” 

“How’s that any of your business?” Steve mumbles in annoyance. 

Billy shrugs, narrowing his eyes at him, “when assholes like you go to their ex-girlfriends house it’s usually to fuck,” he says, smirking. 

Steve shakes his head, “we’re working on an essay together.” 

“Mhm.” 

To his surprise, Billy keeps quiet for the remaining time. Steve quickly finishes up and leaves the shower after wrapping a towel around his waist, wanting to escape him as quickly as he can. 

Steve can’t stand to be in the same room as him for longer than a minute, he always felt that way about him but especially after hearing those rumors about you and Billy from Tommy and Carol. It still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Back in the locker room, he scrunches his face up in disgust, it smells like sweat, too much deodorant and cologne in here. No one is around anymore, everyone has already left. 

Steve reaches for his dirty clothes and stuffs them into his duffle bag before he starts getting dressed. He puts on a pair of boxers and his jeans and reaches for his belt when Billy walks back in. 

Steve’s jaw feels tense from all the clenching but he can’t stop it. Every time he sees him, he thinks of you and him together. He thinks of you being touched by him, of you being kissed by him, of you being– god, he can’t stand it. He can’t stand the thought of you being touched by Billy Hargrove or any other man for that matter.

He knows that there is a huge chance that you aren’t with him or with anyone else but he can’t be too sure. 

“Did you fuck her?” 

Billy smirks when the question finally tumbles out of Steve’s mouth, he knows that he has been dying to ask. He stays silent and puts his clothes on instead, taking his time with it. 

Steve puts his sweater over his head and turns around to face Billy, who is already staring at him smugly as he dries his hair with the white towel. 

Steve’s nostrils flare and he feels like throwing a punch at him already, he clenches his fists, fingernails digging into his palms. 

“Why are you asking a question that you already know the answer to?” Billy smirks. 

He stiffens a little, gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to do what he so badly wants to do. 

“I don’t know the answer, that’s why I’m asking.” 

“Why do you want to know?” Billy chuckles as he tilts his head to the side, he throws the towel back on the bench and puts his white tank top on, “you dumped her.” 

Billy walks towards him slowly, he looks confident, he always does. He looks directly into his eyes, the smugness remaining on his face. 

“Let me tell you something.” 

Steve drops his arms to his sides and puffs out his chest, raising his chin slightly. His heartbeat quickens, not out of fear but out of anticipation. 

“When you came to school with your new little plaything, she left. I found her behind the school, she was crying.” 

Nothing good will come out of his mouth next, Steve already knows it. The thought of you crying over him does little to mend the anger in his chest. 

“Wanna know what I did?” Billy asks, raising his brows. He licks his lips and grins a little as he steps closer. 

Steve nudges his chin up. 

“I took her home and I fucked her so hard that she forgot that you ever existed. In fact, I think a good fuck was all it needed,” Billy chuckles darkly as he looks him up and down, “‘cause you clearly never fucked her good enough.” 

Steve is seething, burning and trembling with anger. The smirk on the blond’s face is only fueling his anger. 

“Now I’m not the only one,” Billy smirks at the angry look on Steve’s face. His cheeks are red, the brown in his eyes vanished completely, all there is now is blackness. He is not just angry, he is in rage and Billy is loving it. “A little birdie told me that she’s been sneaking around with one of the stoners, so..” Billy laughs, turning around with satisfaction in his eyes.

Steve doesn’t know whether to throw a punch, to scream at him or at himself for feeling this way. He wants to throw up at the thought of you fucking Billy, of you sneaking around with some loser. 

Billy grabs his stuff, he puts on his brown leather jacket. He can sense Steve’s anger and it makes him feel more satisfied than ever. 

“Let me tell you a little secret, Steve. Girls like her, the ones who get left behind by their daddies, they’re a little damaged but they keep going. They still got a little hope left, but the moment they get their heart broken by some asshole they fall in love with, they’re damaged beyond repair. Even if you come crawling back to her and she ends up being stupid enough to take your sorry ass back, she will never be the same again. You crushed her poor little heart.”

Steve is breathing heavily, his knuckles are white from how hard he is clenching his fist. He would love nothing more than to finally throw that punch but he holds himself back, knowing that it will only make things even worse. 

Billy slaps his hand on Steve’s shoulder, narrowing his eyes, he chuckles, “loosen up, King Steve, go and get your little geek. I’ll take care of y/n, I think she’s better off with me anyways. At least she feels something when I fuck her.” 

And with that, Billy leaves him standing, knowing the damage he caused, it leaves him more satisfied than ever, to know that he messed with him— to know what it takes to mess with him.

next part

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