#i hate y/n sorry

[vampiresfromxenon]

I Wanted To

Astarion x gn! Reader/Tav

Almost 3.5k words 

Tags: Fluff, kisses, cuddling, angst, biting mention, no use of y/n, words of affection (so much sappiness), soft! Astarion, they’re in love your honor!! 

CW: Slight mentions of SA and trauma (extremely minor, incredibly light piece)

Summary: You and Astarion decide to start your relationship over once you both confess your feelings. It's a mutual decision to take things extremely slow, celebrating little victories of intimacy here and there. Tonight, you can't hide your words of affection as he becomes more comfortable and vulnerable around you.

~

It’s been a few months traveling with this rowdy crew, and you can’t help but smile thinking about how much you love them all. Granted, they all piss you off on the daily, what from Shadowheart and Lae’zel attempting to kill each other, to Gale eating your favorite pair of enchanted gloves, but you can’t help yourself from smiling every time you think about how close you’ve all grown. One particular member in the party you have become very close with stands out a bit more than the rest, and thoughts about him are enough to make you unsettlingly giddy. 

For the longest time, you and the pale elf fought your feelings, too cold to warm up to each other. You both had a wicked past, something that tainted your current perceptions of love and romance. His may have been far more extreme than yours, but regardless of that fact, your feelings and emotions were still valid. For a short few weeks, you found yourselves being extra intimate, dismissing it all as stress relief and nothing more. Those little excursions were merely there as a form of self protection: He gained your trust and protection, and you felt less alone and vulnerable at night. Or, so you thought, until you noticed how distant he was, his eyes never meeting yours every time he sought to pleasure you. 

It wasn’t until recently that these barriers slowly began to be chipped away for the both of you, your infatuation not only becoming more real, but unfortunately, more terrifying. One night, you approached him, being brave and understanding if he had other thoughts about what you two could be. It was late, most of the camp either asleep or preparing for bed. You approached him, a soft hand on his shoulder, even though he was well aware you were there. What you were there for though, remained a mystery to him. He turned, smiling at you, taking your hand and kissing it affectionately. As your heart raced, you began a discussion with him, asking his thoughts and feelings about your ‘connection’ rather than just bombarding him with an overwhelming confession of love. 

He seemed stunned to say the least, unsure of what to say or how to feel. It was strange for him, his cold heart beating a little faster, feeling a little warmer at the sight of you in front of him, actually seeing him for him and not just another plaything. All these feelings were bubbling up inside him because, for the first time in a long time, someone not only asked him what he wanted in a romantic relationship, but they respected anything he said on that subject matter. In all his nervousness, he felt that he could be honest in his reciprocation to see how far you two could go, this time with real feelings. That was a few weeks ago, and all this time since has been magical. 

You haven’t intimately slept together since just before that night, instead establishing boundaries and focusing more on the non-sexual ways to be intimate, loving, and kind. He loves the way your hand brushes his, the way your fingers interlace with his as he moves in to hold your hand. You love the way his hand lands on your back, stretching to your hip to pull you closer to him, especially when meeting new people from town to town. While you still struggle with eye-contact in general, it feels easier around him, especially now since he has found himself to be more comfortable actually looking at you, taking in your appearance and being more present in your conversations. 

For many nights now, you’ve been cuddled up nicely in one or the other’s tent, fingers interlaced, hands gently wrapped around hips, legs occasionally intertwined. He still continues to feed on you, though he makes sure to gain your permission before bed each night. On the nights where you felt too tired, too drained mentally even, he would leave you be, hoping to keep you as comfortable as possible. Those nights were just as romantic, as you could feel his breath against your neck as he cuddles you tightly, his lips on your shoulder as he falls into the soft rhythm of sleep. 

Tonight didn’t start off any differently from any other night; you both gathered in his tent, doing your nightly routines as per usual (always before promptly passing out until the next morning hit you like a boulder). Most nights he would wear a nice, silky pajama set, one he purchased from an unreasonably expensive fashion designer in a small village. You didn’t have as luxurious of pajamas, but yours still covered most of your body, keeping you feeling safe and snuggled up each night.

Neither of you expected that this night would change everything.

He’s standing off to the side of your shared bedroll, changing into his pajamas while your back is turned to him, fiddling with the blanket you both share. You notice just how used this blanket is, and you realize that it might have been the only thing giving him comfort, the feeling of security over the past 200 or so years. Astarion was far from one to share, whether it was his feelings or his belongings, and it isn’t long before you have a second realization: you are possibly the only person to have ever slept with that blanket besides him. Your fingers gently roll the decaying fabric between your fingers, taking in all of his memories that have been exhausted on the threads. 

You hear him walking over and you drop your thoughts about the blanket, not wanting to pry into more of his distressing past. He kneels, picking up the blanket and sliding next to you, your bodies touching in an instant. Turning your attention away from the blanket, you look up to see your love is shirtless, moving around in the bedroll, trying to be more comfortable at your side. 

You know just how insecure he is about his scars from Cazador, that disgusting, vile, treacherous bitch, but it was so lovely to see him stepping out of his comfort zone. While you’re quick to notice this new change, he’s even quicker to notice your reaction. Diving back into his comfort charm, he smirks at you, loading a phrase to protect his vulnerable side.

“Like what you see, darling?” His eyes flutter to the side a bit, and you immediately notice his withdrawal from the conversation. With a calm and gentle hand, you caress his cheek, turning his attention back to you. 

“I always love what I see…” You smile, your eyes looking at him in such a way that your face beams with pride, though you try to find a balance between that and neutral so as to not overwhelm him. To see just how much he trusts you, is willing to open up to you and be vulnerable… Your heart can barely take it. In a quiet voice you’re sure to check in on him, wanting to make sure he feels secure in his choice. “Don’t feel you have to do this for me though, okay?” 

His hand reaches up to hold yours against his cold cheek, his stare suddenly becoming more present. “I wanted to.” His voice is low, his hand taking yours off his face as he leans in gently to kiss your palm. He kisses your forehead before moving to lie down, making himself comfortable in your small space. 

You sit there for a moment, considering your options. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable, but you want him to be aware that you feel the same sense of shared comfort. As he turns to the side, looking at a book he left on the ground earlier, you move to remove your shirt, tossing it off to the side. He moves the book away from you both so you don’t roll into it in the night. Turning back to face you, he pauses, taking in the sight of your bare chest. He looks up at you, tilting his head, nearly asking you the same question you just asked him.

Before he can say anything, you lean slightly closer to him, your voice a loud whisper. “I wanted to.” His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s flattered by this display of intimacy. You begin to crawl under the old blanket with him, and he pulls you close, his hand around your waist. The feel of his cold, soft skin against your bare back is enough to send shivers down your spine, and you realize that this must be so close to what heaven feels like. His free hand reaches up and caresses your jaw before tangling in your hair, gently playing with it as he knows it helps you fall asleep. 

Your hand rests on his bare chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat slowing down as he continues to relax in your care. You lie there for a while, trying to sleep, but something is keeping you awake. Perhaps it’s the looming threat that you could all die soon in brutally vicious ways, or the fact that you don’t want to waste a single second enjoying this time with your new lover. Suppose you’ll never truly know. 

Regardless of what is keeping you up on this night, you begin to feel a little restless, unable to lie there in that position for too much longer without your arms going numb. You sit up a little, leaning on the arm you’ve been lying on, trying to not wake your companion. However, his body shifts with you, and it appears that he is still just as awake as you are.

 “I didn't wake you, did I?” You whisper in a worried voice. 

“Not in the slightest, my dear. Unable to sleep tonight, as I am sure you understand.”

You sigh, still leaning over him slightly, his hand that was once on your waist now drawing circles on your shoulder blade, the hand in your hair now resting on your hip. You want to speak, but you find yourself getting lost in the way his face looks in the moonlight peeking through his tent flap. It frames his face so perfectly, almost as if this scene was sculpted by the Gods. He notices your sudden distance, and he is quick to check in on you. 

“Are you alright, love?” He asks, a tinge of concern in his voice, once again tilting his head like a confused puppy. 

“Sorry… Yes, yes. More than alright.” You reassure him, not breaking your focus. A beat; he attempts to determine what’s on your mind. Thinking he’s found it, he smirks. 

“Admiring how beautiful I am?”

“Yeah… Just looking at creases around your eyes…” You say in a loving tone, not even remotely aware of how backhanded the comment you just made sounds. 

He begins to shuffle, pushing you away, offended by your lack of sincerity. “Alright, there’s no need-” 

“No! Not like that.” You chuckle, snapping back into reality. You grab him, pulling him back to you, his head pressing back into the pillow below you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just-” You can’t stop yourself from laughing a little at the sight of your pouting partner underneath you. 

You notice just how unamused he is, and you abruptly stop laughing, clearing your throat and composing yourself in a more serious manner. Your hand reaches up and the pad of your thumb brushes against his crows feet, your mind falling back into your feelings of love and adoration for him. 

“The way your eyes crinkle when you laugh… The way your eyes sharpen when you’re glaring at me, like you are right now… The way they soften every time I walk in the room… I love those wrinkles, they’re such a beautiful part of you.” He relaxes again, taking in your words, though still unhappy at your mention of his wrinkles, making him feel old. Though, no matter how much he hates his aging characteristics being brought up, he will never turn away any form of flattery. 

“Well, augh. You really are sweet, aren’t you? But I’m sure you like more of me than just my dreaded wrinkles.” He was definitely fishing for compliments, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t aware of just how much you wanted to smother him in loving words. You lean forward and kiss his crows feet on both sides, surprising him. Smiling, your thumb traces over his eyebrows, taking in their shape and feel. 

“My eyebrows, really? Nothing else catching your eye?” He whines, his hands going back to resting on your shoulder blade and hip. He can feel your body shake as you laugh, your head falling forward towards his chest as you continue to giggle from his pouting. You bring your head back up, focusing on his face once more. 

“One thing at a time, dearest.” You pause, analyzing the shape of his eyebrows. Just how sharp they are, how often he uses them to his advantage when he is charming people. As you continue to gaze at them, he raises one of them, making your heart go crazy. 

“You’re so expressive. Your eyebrows are so perfectly shaped, the way you use them like a weapon… I know it’s silly, I know they’re just eyebrows, but they’re your eyebrows, and they mean so much to me.” You trail off, your face flushed with embarrassment as you realize just how overly sentimental your words are. He smiles at you, knowing just how hard you’re trying, and appreciating every second of it. You kiss his eyebrows before quickly moving on.

Your fingers trace along his face, noticing his mole. By now he’s exhausted, you’re three for three with things he’s sensitive about. “Darling, if this is your way of making me feel less upset about not being able to look in mirrors, I must say it’s starting to work.” His words deceive his face and body language, but you still try to abide by his wishes. 

Wanting to show your love, without spending too much time on it, you mention how much the mole under his eye suits him, how he would almost seem incomplete without a beauty spot. The usage of ‘beauty’ in ‘beauty spot’ convinced him to let it slide, but the ice you were dreamily skating on was wearing thin. Kissing his mole, you move on once again. 

The skin of his nose was soft as you trace the pad of your finger down the bridge of his nose. “Your nose… it’s so sharp. Don’t laugh, but one of my favorite feelings is when I wake up and your nose is either on my back or my neck. I can feel your breathing on my skin, your nose pressed against me while you sleep. It’s so calming, having any little part of you so close to me.” He looks at you a little confused, mostly due to the fact that you’re still here appreciating him. The things you’re saying, they’re so small and insignificant, yet you enunciate each word like it’s the most important thing you’ll ever say. Each word has a purpose, a meaning, and they fall out of your mouth effortlessly; something he still has yet to learn how to do. 

You kiss the tip of his nose, your fingers tracing down his face to his smile lines. Oh his smile lines. You just can’t help but adore his smile lines, no matter how much he absolutely hates them. He hates them because they age him, but you love them for all the same reason. To know he laughs, smiles, has any semblance of being happy is enough for you to be overjoyed at the sight of these lines that prove the existence that he has been able to enjoy life enough to have physical proof on his face.

“Don’t you dare.” He teases, though you wish he could bear with you for just a moment to explain your thoughts. Figuring you could do it another time, as tonight has already had enough excitement, you kiss his smile lines and spare him from your honeyed words. 

Last, but certainly not least: his lips. Your thumb traces over his lips which are closed together, gently pushing up just enough to where you wonder if he was trying to secretly kiss your thumb. As you continue to run your thumb over his lips, reminiscing on all the times your own experienced his, he takes you by surprise. 

Removing the hand from your hip, his thumb graces your lips, and you find yourself trying to inconspicuously kiss at it like he did to you just moments ago. You open your mouth to speak, but he uses his finger to silence you, gently shushing you. 

“My turn.” His voice is smooth and tender as his thumb continues to trace over your slightly parted lips. “Your lips… They have always been so soft and inviting.” He pauses, still staring at them.

“I must admit, I despised them at first.” A confused expression crosses your face just before he continues. “They would taunt me on a daily basis, the one thing I couldn’t have no matter how much charm I threw at you. When I was eventually graced with them, I loathed the way my name would be cried out from them, almost as if you were saying it like a prayer. It tore me apart, wanting something I wasn’t sure I actually wanted, or even felt like I deserved…” He trails off, though his gaze remains constant on you.

“How do they make you feel now?” You softly ask, just barely loud enough for even yourself to hear.

He thinks on this for a moment, searching for the proper word.

“Safe.” 

He leans up to you, cupping your cheek as he kisses you, the most delicate and loving kiss you two have ever shared. You both pull from the kiss, exercising restraint and respect for your pre-established boundaries. A hand resting on his chest, you encourage him to lie back on the pillow once more, which he does. You lean forward, kissing every part of his face that you mentioned, as well as a few spots just because you wanted to. Kissing his lips again, you pull apart just enough to whisper against his lips. 

“I admire everything about you. Every aspect of you is just so lovely… Thank you for being here, with me. I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

He smiles, his fangs poking out this time. His hand moves a strand of hair out of your face as he clears his throat. 

“And thank you for all the kisses.” He says, resuming his usual charm. You try to hide your slight disappointment, but you know he is trying his best and you can’t expect him to always meet you halfway, especially in this time of healing. 

“Always.” You whisper, lying down next to him as he wraps his arms around you, holding you closely. It’s late, and now that you have this feeling lifted off your chest, you find it easier to sleep. Your heart rate begins to slow, your breathing finding its usual pattern, your lover wrapped up tightly with you. 

When you’re on the edge of falling asleep, you feel his head tilting down towards yours, which is resting on his chest. His lips kiss the top of your head, his chin then resting on that same spot. A quiet voice breaks the air, unaware that it still has an audience.

“I love you.”

You freeze, unsure of whether or not you have actually fallen into a dream state, or if you just heard him correctly. In this state of grogginess, your body shifts as you attempt to determine the truth.

“Shit. Did you hear that?”

“Mhm.” You sleepily groan. He lets out a sigh of relief, thinking he’s talking to you in your sleep like he has before. Settling further into the bedroll, making himself more comfortable, he pulls you tighter, finally deciding to rest. 

“I love you too.” You break the silence, your voice more awake this time. His eyes flash open, his red irises laser focused on you. You can feel his heart pounding as you rest on his chest, and you lean over and kiss just above his heart.

“Safe.” Is all you can say before promptly passing out, your warm skin slowly heating up his own. He sits there for another moment, taking in the events of today. It was a lot, to say the least, but he felt comfortable and confident in his decisions, and that was almost truly a first for him. His hand finds its way back into your hair, stroking it as he begins to drift off to sleep, for the first time in a long time feeling comfortable, guarded, protected, safe. 

~

Author’s Note:

He’s extremely OOC, I’m 95% sure lmao but I love making characters total softies, even if we don’t see that side of them in the media they’re from. (I'm still in the very beginning of Act 2 so I'm learning a lot about him through this site too)

I’ve never experienced love, I’m also sure that’s obvious- I’ve always wanted to do something like this with someone though (look at their face and kiss all my favorite spots). While I was writing this, I felt so awkward writing such sappy dialogue, but I realized that moments like these aren’t smooth and rehearsed; feelings get mushy and oftentimes people say dumb and dorky things because they’re just so in love. I hope it gets translated that way at least hahaha

My Spotify is fucked because I listen to specific songs on repeat whenever I write. I have probably about 4-5 hours of “Blue Moon” by Billie Holiday logged on there now because of all the time planning, writing, and thinking about this fic- I got this song from Neil’s Astarion playlist, it’s so sweet and loving :) 

Edit: So many people are saying he’s actually pretty in character so thank you for the validation because I was nervous 😭

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Fifteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: ANGST... that's about the only major warning I can think of

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Jurian and Vassa took the attic and became scarce, but when night and day slid into one another you still heard her painful screams, muffled as they were by the magic that encased their room. It was a feeling more than anything else. A tension that gripped the House until it seemed to be sobbing. At sunrise and sunset without fail, Vassa’s body broke and rearranged itself, flesh turning to feathers and feathers to flesh. Before it had been a painless process where her body came and went in its various forms, but no longer. Now she felt everything alongside an itch deep within her bones that couldn’t be satiated by food or drink or anything else. 

Go to the lake! Her body screamed. Go to Koschei! And then punished her when she didn’t comply. Like a beast had sunk its claws into her flesh, its waiting mouth only inches away from snapping. To stay away was a slow, agonizing march to death. To move close would be swift, but final, and somehow Vassa knew that if she gave into Koschei’s call, she would be lost forever.

You lingered at the base of the attic's staircase, your bare feet sinking into the soft rug until the sounds of cracking bones finally ceased. Three pairs of feet shuffled above your head and you heard Jurian’s faint whispers like a gentle push of air. When the door opened and Lucien emerged, you saw Vassa crumpled on the floor, now a bone-thin woman with dull, coppery hair and skin ravaged by scratches and pockmarks. 

“Shhhh. It’s ok.” Jurian whispered, encasing her in his arms. 

“I can’t,” her voice trembled. “It hurts. I-I-I’m burning.” 

“Y/n?” Lucien frowned. The door slammed shut with a bang and you jumped backwards. You clutched a velvet pouch close to your chest and then slowly held it out to Lucien. 

“It’s for Vassa,” you explained, trying to keep your eyes on his mismatched ones — one russet as river stones, one gold like the sun. He opened the bag and stared in confusion at the fine, white powder within, giving it a tentative sniff. “Morphine. Humans use it for pain.” 

“I know of it.” Lucien’s frown deepened. “They get addicted. Take too much and they die.” 

“She’s already addicted. That’s what’s happening isn’t it? Koschei’s drawing his power away to get her to return to the lake and every day that passes she’s dying.” Lucien tightened his fists around the bag, still skeptical. Vassa had endured enough. He didn’t want to have her endure this either. “The bag is enchanted and will never allow her to draw too much. Just enough to calm her hunger. If we’re lucky it might help her sleep too.” 

Lucien stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists from around the gold drawstring, waiting for Vassa’s cries to cease. But they never did. And there you were standing in front of him, unwavering and expectant. There was a glimmer of stubbornness in your gaze. A sign of the hours you’d spent researching Vassa’s condition and acquiring the strange human drug, and your disapproval if Lucien didn’t accept it. 

“Thank you, Y/n,” he whispered, “But please go. Vassa hates for anyone to see her like this. Even Jurian and I.” 

You swallowed thickly and nodded, disappearing down the stairs as quickly as you could. The next morning when the sun rose over the mountains and Vassa changed, you heard only the House’s usual breathings. 

The House buckled under the weight of the Inner Circle’s secrets and the sheer volume of history that had occurred within its walls and between its occupants. It utilized its magic in clever ways — your door opened with a creak that wasn’t there before so that Azriel would always hear your comings and goings. Lucien would suddenly find his door locked and the curtains drawn on the days when Helion made surprise visits to see Y/n. Nyx would find himself ushered around by a broomstick that swatted his ankles when the adults were discussing private matters. It was all a great deal of work. 

So it was a relief when Rhys and Feyre quietly moved their children to the House of Wind with Nesta and Cassian, and when Mor and Emerie took the final steps in emptying their rooms and went to hide out in their city apartment. It was even more of a relief when Helion returned to the Day Court, but not before throwing a heavy threat in Azriel’s face that if he should ever hurt his daughter again in any way, shape, or form, he’d strip the wings off his back. 

Meals at the House were tense, quiet affairs, something not even Feyre, Elain, and Nesta’s sisterly conversations or Cassian’s light-hearted humor could ease. Elain stayed close to Lucien’s side, one hand always on his arm or resting against his back or brushing against his, but that didn’t erase what the Blood Duel had done to his trust in Elain. He was kind, but guarded, especially when Azriel was in the room. But it was more than she could ask for because it was more than she’d ever given him in the beginning. 

You and Azriel were worse off.

You were speaking once more, but your words were always laced with a bit of apprehension and Azriel’s were always filled with sorrowful hope. Conversations were dull, short, and didn’t even begin to brush the surface of all the things you should have been talking about. You were terrified not of the Shadowsinger, but of his opinion of you. Did he want you so he could fix you? So that he could feel needed? So that you could be another one in a list of females he burned through? 

It never truly seemed like that was the case, but you also didn’t trust yourself when it came to your emotions. You had told him once that you couldn’t imagine having a love like Feyre and Rhysand’s, or Nesta and Cassian’s, and you still meant it. You were a matchstick and he was flint, and you didn’t know what would happen to you after he had lit you aflame. For all you knew, you were already burning and this wonderful thing you’d had with Azriel would live and die with nothing more than the memory of an embrace in Rhysand’s office to show for it. 

But oh how you ached to touch him again. To hold him like you had before and to have him return the gesture just as strongly. 

You stiffened when Azriel’s hand brushed your arm, warmth bursting out from the point of contact. 

“I’m sorry.” Azriel whispered, and he was talking about more than the wine he spilled when he reached over the table.

You spared him a glance, the first real look you’d given him in two weeks. The flagon slipped from his hands, and if it weren’t for his shadows catching it an inch above the floor, the room would have been doused in burgundy red. 

“Does Lucien know?” 

Rhysand looked up from his papers. Missives from the Darkbringer army and Illyrian troops up north clogged his desk, all begrudgingly accepting his orders to prepare for what could amount to another lengthy war. Letters thrown back and forth between the seven courts added to the chaos, all of them war-weary and desperate for a path that wouldn’t lead to bloodshed. 

You took up the center of his room and stood so quietly he hadn’t even noticed you until you spoke. It had been eating away at you for days since Lucien’s arrival. Every time you two saw one another or spoke, you tried to scrounge for clues that would reveal whether he knew he was Helion’s son and whether he might suspect you were Helion’s daughter as well. The other members of the Inner Circle had been tight-lipped about that secret, a skill you now knew they all possessed with alarming dexterity. 

“Does Lucien know he’s Helion’s son?”

Rhysand slumped back in his chair, rubbing his temples with one careful hand. Finally he said, “Yes.” 

The answer knocked the breath from your lungs. You’d been expecting the opposite. “Does he… does he know about me?” 

Rhys sighed and shook his head. You didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. 

“How long has he known?” 

“Six years. Feyre was the one to tell him. She was actually the first of us to recognize the similarity, believe it or not. But then, no one ever dared to give weight to the rumors surrounding Helion and Aurelia Vanserra while Beron was alive.”

You rocked back and forth on your feet, breath shaking as it entered your body. “Six years. Six years and you never thought to tell Helion that he has a son? I thought you two were friends?”

Rhysand tensed. “I’m Lucien’s friend as well and he begged us to never speak of it - to live as though we’d never learned that secret. And I keep my secrets. We all do.” 

“You and your family have made that very clear in the time that I’ve been here.” 

“If you mean Azriel—”

“Don’t play dumb, Rhys, you know I’m talking about him.” Tears pricked at your eyes, adding to the humiliation that had coated you like a film ever since you’d seen his memories about Mor, Elain, and Gwyn. “I don’t—” You swallowed thickly, “I can imagine how you must have all been whispering behind my back about Azriel and I. How you must have found it so pathetic the way he charmed me when I was really his fourth choice.”

“That’s not true.” Was what Rhysand was going to say. But he didn’t need to. Azriel said it for him. 

Your face lost all color, any bravado melting away at the feeling of Azriel’s shadows wrapping around your ankles like ribbons of silk. You could feel him in the room and that quiet darkness he carried around with him as inherently as if it were stitched onto his body. 

Azriel was shaking. Shaking. With anger, turmoil, or grief — you couldn’t name it. All you knew is that one moment you were standing in Rhysand’s office, all velvet upholstery and suave, expensive taste, and the next you were in Azriel’s room. 

Everything smelled like mountain air. Maybe it was the gothic windows that stretched into the vaulted ceilings, stained glass opening out onto a personal balcony with deep blue curtains fluttering in the breeze. But you were sure that even with the windows barred it would smell the same. It would smell like Azriel. If you threw open his wardrobe you’d come face to face with a wall of black. Lots and lots of black. Black suits he hardly ever wore. Black fighting leathers. Black leather jackets for everyday. Black trousers. Black boots on the floor. Very practical. Very Azriel. 

If you dug through his dresser drawers you’d find black boxers and socks to match and no shortage of knives and daggers hidden behind wooden planks or in leather sleeves nailed to the bottom of his desk. But at first glance you only saw three weapons in plain view — Truth Teller, blade down and stuck in the wood grain of his desk beside a pile of reports, and two obsidian blades hanging from the wall beside his midnight blue bed in the shape of an “x.” 

The smell — Azriel’s smell — calmed you, at least up to the point where you turned to find him standing less than six inches away, hazel eyes boring into yours. Then your pulse skyrocketed. You were certain that if he only looked down to your heart he’d see it pounding against your chest like a drum skin ready to burst. 

“That’s not true,” he repeated earnestly. “And don’t you dare believe it. Not even for a second.” 

His eyes jumped back and forth between yours and before he could stop himself, his hands were grasping yours in a gentle hold. The leather gloves were soft and supple beneath your fingertips. You wanted to rip them off so you could feel his scarred hands again. 

“You weren’t meant to hear that,” you whispered, suddenly feeling small. That angry humiliation went up in a puff of smoke and left you shy and uncertain. 

Azriel gripped your hands a little tighter and you watched as tendrils of shadow worked their way up your arms and got lost in your hair. “But I did,” he said breathlessly, “And I need you to know that it’s not true.” 

“Azriel—”

“I know—” he was shaking his head, “I know what Helion said and I won’t lie and tell you that I’m perfect or that I’ve made any smart decisions about love in the past — I’ve not make a single one — but… but Y/n you’re not a fourth choice. You’re not something broken that I’m trying to fix or some fantasy I’ve fallen for.”

His hands shook and despite the gloves his hands still felt sticky and wet. Slick with your blood. The burning scent of iron in his nose.

“You’re the most real thing in the world to me. You’re—” You’re my mate. The words crawled up his throat like acid and it just felt wrong. He would say those words to you. He would. But not now. Not like this. He came up with something else. “Y/n, please tell me you believe me. Please.”

And there you were. Falling all over again. Burning like a matchstick on fire. The flames slowly eating away at you bit by bit. You wondered what would happen when you finally hit the ground, or when you ran out of length. Would he still hold you like this? Would you still feel real to him? 

“How am I meant to know, Azriel?” 

You’d always been good at books. You knew the ways in which these stories worked where the themes and plot points had been preordained and written with the purpose of being tied up in a neat package by the final page. People were very different. They were unpredictable and chaotic and they could lie through the skin of their teeth and believe they were telling the truth. And that was the problem wasn’t it? Because you still believed every word that came out of Azriel’s mouth, and his hands still felt like they were keeping you tethered to this earth when sometimes your powers and the memories that came with them made you feel like a whisper on the wind. Weightless and at the mercy of something you couldn’t control. 

“You can trust me. You can know for yourself.” 

He pressed your hand against his cheek and you wanted to cry at the faint pricks of stubble beneath your skin and the sharp curve of his jaw. 

He wanted you to use your power on him. He wanted you to learn all the ways he wanted you. All the ways he loved you.  

But you couldn’t do it. 

Azriel panicked when you remained silent, staring at him and at his hands like you were frightened. All at once he was back on the streets of Velaris, cobblestones shaving away at the skin of his palms as he dragged his way up to you inch by bloody inch, fighting against a body that was too broken to move. 

He couldn’t remember what it felt like when he’d stabbed you through the chest and dropped you on the street. Everything between the moment he saw Andrian’s clear-cut eyes to the moment he saw Rhysand’s horrified gaze was fuzzy and dark. But that made it worse because now in his nightmares he could imagine all the ways he’d hurt you, each version teeming with the same level of horror and possibility as the previous one. 

He let you go and hated himself when you stepped back, your hand slipping away. 

“I won’t… I won’t hurt you again, Y/n. I swear on my life. I’ll-I’ll make a bargain, I don’t care. I would sooner die than let something like that happen again.” 

I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.

“Y/n, please.”

 I am not broken. But I am afraid. 

You fled from his bedroom. 

The air had a bite to it now with winter descending. The snow line on the mountains dipped lower and lower each day, creeping like ivy down a brick wall. 

Elain never wore gloves. Not when she was gardening. It was something she and Ione had in common. She liked the feeling of her strong hands, the callouses on her palms and fingers that she’d earned all on her own. She grunted, slamming her shovel into the soil and feeling the microscopic chips of ice give way when she kicked down on the blade. It was too late in the season to be planting tulip bulbs. If she’d been in Velaris she would have done this four weeks ago. But it was alright with her. She knew the value of hard work, and she had enough hope for the future to believe that even though she was late, she’d have something beautiful to call hers come springtime. 

“It’s time for that conversation I was telling you about,” she said cryptically, as was her way. 

Lucien dropped the final basket beside where Elain now knelt in the dirt, her pale pink dress dirtied and littered with her own handprints. The brown bulbs rolled around like oversized chestnuts, the kind that he’d be roasting over a fire right now if he were still in Autumn Court. Instead he was here, lingering in a Court that had never felt like home. Then again… he’d never felt at home in Autumn, Spring, or the Human Lands either. 

He straightened up and wiped his hands clean on his trousers, golden and russet eyes trailing over the River House’s grounds for this mysterious person he was meant to speak to.

There. 

The faint swishing of black robes behind a dark green topiary tree. He should have known Elain had been talking about you. 

You cracked your knuckles and rehearsed the words you’d scribbled out earlier that day and then set to fire in a maddening loop. You’d been restless with the truth of Lucien’s parentage and you couldn’t believe that the others had held their tongues so readily. As it was, without Azriel’s company to help quiet your mind, you’d dug into this new piece of information like a starving animal and couldn’t let go.

Was this a good time to tell him? Would there ever be a good time to tell him? You had no idea. 

Somewhere in the attic, you knew Vassa was itching to take to the skies like the burning comet she was. Every night she shivered in Jurian’s arms, the morphine barely able to take the edge off the humming in her bones, and every morning she let him lock her away in her cage. It was getting worse and worse trying to keep her from succumbing to Koschei’s influence. Even now you thought you could hear her keen cries whistling from the attic like ten thousand arrows launched into the air. 

Somewhere else, in a secret, hidden place you knew nothing about, Andrian had finally been imprisoned. Andrian with his bent neck and silver, candy-floss hair and bloody little hands. 

You shivered and jumped back five feet when Lucien called your name, kind eyes narrowed in concern. His shirt was loose and open and the sweat on his body rose like mist off his skin. He was his mother’s son first, Helion’s child second, and fire still ran through his veins. The chill did not touch him. 

He tipped his head to the side, red hair spilling out from the messy way he’d tied it up and away from his face. A brutal scar ran through his eye like a fissure, starting at the center of his brow before clawing its way down his jaw like a lightning strike frozen in time. But for all the cruelty he’d been dealt with in life, his eyes were gentle, even the mechanical one that whirred and flashed in the sun. 

They were even kinder when he looked at you. You with your inquisitive gaze and curious nature, like a stray cat that couldn’t help but linger too long at doorways. One foot inside, one foot ready to run and hide. He’d caught you watching him at dinners, and he’d catch himself staring when you walked around the house with a book in your hand, so utterly absorbed that you would bump against doorways and bang your hips against sharp corners. 

“Elain told me about you. Did you know that?” 

You blinked in surprise. “What did she say?”

“Elain… Elain doesn’t always speak clearly. Much of what comes out of her mouth can feel eerie or discomforting. But, she told me before we left for the Night Court that I would be happy I came. That I would never regret the things I learned on my trip.” He tilted his head even further, looking more and more like a fox with each turn of his face. “And she mentioned a bird. A bird with ink-tipped wings and eyes like a crow.” 

You flexed your fingers, well aware that the tips were smudged with ink, the nails bitten down to the quick. 

“Someone clever and cautious who’d been hidden away their whole life and needed to see the sun.” 

You felt stripped bare. That strange vulnerability that comes with being summed up in so few words had you feeling airy. Like one sentence could be enough to carry the weight of the three centuries you’d lived and never buckle. 

“I know you’re Helion’s son. I recognized it the moment I saw you.” 

Lucien stepped back, scarlet brows shooting up into his hair with alarm.

You hesitated, then continued on cautiously. “I recognized it because I would know my father’s face anywhere.” 

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

I KNOW IT'S A CLIFFHANGER ENDING BUT I NEEDED TO BREAK EVERYTHING INTO CHAPTERS SOMEWHERE AND I'M GOING TO TRY AND GET CHAPTER 16 UP BY WEDNESDAY SO I DON'T LEAVE Y'ALL HANGING FOR TOO LONG. HAVE MERCY!!!

The good news is that Chapter 16 is already mostly written, I just need to edit it all to make sure things flow smoothly. Also, LUCIEN KNOWS NOW AHHHHHHHHHHHH

Sorry for the Azriel angst... but it's delicious, no?

[zipora666]

deepest apologies if this was already answered cuz i kinda just got here but is there a Barnaby in your AU?

OF course! After all everyone is welcomed to the carnival!

Barnaby and the bird he have is a plate billed mountain kind of toucan bird! The name of the bird is pineapple lol (Bc he always try to sneak into howdy store to get those 😂) and yea

a new outfit try I did for @cutepotatook with their WH o’’c ...sunny! Yup! (Sorry I rarely give ya fanarts Bc I do remember I did once and thought it was a bit sucks lol so I got a bit shy to show ya my art but I OVERCOME MY FEARS HAHAHA *cough*) anyway here ya go!

enjoy the caique bird! Such silly birds matching for sunny personality (i still can’t get over that one old drawing you did of her killing poor watermelons in magma- 😂

Yup I did try to do an fire feathers outfit- not the best but enjoy!

And some ask (I lost it) want me to answer if I do doodles of the birds in carnival au on school in my sketchbook and show the others au’s of welcome home so-...here ya go..

I did it today it was fun to do but hard Bc I needed to do by memory (I wish my memory was like that on exams-)

And poor @cloudy-dreams I’m drawing to much for you lately I get u suffering with me lol-

Silly bird-

Yup I love tone new pens I use! So good so many sizes!

[doomsdaybby]

i’ve been plagued by the thought of steve cumming in your underwear and making you wear them for the rest of the day. so of course I had to write it 🤭🫶🏻 [1.7k words]

You had a bad habit of interrupting Steve at work. Not like Family Video had him rushed off his feet or bending over backwards, but he seemed to always point it out anyways.

“You’re gonna get me fired one day,” he’d jab under his breath, loaded with that honeysuckle sweetness that could make your teeth rot, not a hint of malice behind the words.

“Doesn’t sound too bad to me” you fired back, leaning over the counter with your chin propped up in one hand, elbows keeping you upright, busying the fingers of your other to twirl innocently through strands of your hair.

Somewhere between the shelves of the horror section, Robin was dry-heaving, having been forced into listening to your flirtatious conversations at least three times a week.

Which is how you ended up in the employee bathroom, Steve’s jeans and boxer shorts pooled around his ankles, your shorts discarded somewhere forgotten on the floor, panties peeled down your legs just enough for Steve’s weeping cock to slip through your slick folds without restriction.

Steve had already made you cum like this once already, having hiked up your leg so the back of your knee sat snugly in the crook of his elbow. A large hand cushioned your lower back, skating down to bruise the fat at the back of your thigh.

Steve had you standing on tip-toe, your hands buried in the hair at the nape of his neck, relying wholly on him to keep you upright. The odd squeak of your sneaker against the tile was the only noise that could be heard over the tangles of panting breaths and heated smother of kisses to exposed skin.

You were a moaning mess, the trust you had in yourself to stay quiet faltering, finding purchase in the juncture of his neck. You pressed hot open-mouthed kisses there, lungs working double time, the top of your ass burning where Steve had you anchored against the ceramic sink.

You would be bruised come morning, you could feel the promise of the blooming purple hues in every rut of Steve’s hips. Though the discomfort was drowned out by the sound of heavy huffing in your ear, his lips were so close he merely needed to whisper, the rhetorics flowing through his teeth with vulgar ease.

“You feeling good? I know, my girl, I know. You can’t get enough can you?”

Steve chuckled something wicked when a rather rough buck of his hips knocked your strained legs further apart, his bulging shaft running in and out of your slit at a pace that had you dripping down your thigh.

“God, Steve. Steve, please. Steeeve.” His name came out tightly strung, your pitchy mewls causing his cock to twitch at your entrance, dipping the head in just the tiniest amount, the lewd slip of your arousal making it far too fucking easy for him.

Steve could fuck you raw right here in the employee bathroom, but he couldn’t let you get away with being the only tease in this relationship.

How could he let you show up in your shortest shorts and cropped spaghetti strap shirts, making his work day all the more unbearable, just to give you exactly what you were after?

To his dismay, Steve was determined to show you that he had just as much power over you as you had him.

“Ssshhh, baby. You gon - fuck - you gonna get me into trouble, huh?”

Your mouth was then clamped shut, his palm pressing snugly against your lips, and Steve couldn’t help but roll his hips up that tad bit harsher to slide the head of his cock right over the bump of your clit.

“That’s it, pretty girl, gotta stay quiet f’me, okay? I know you can, you’re being so good for me” he cooed, tipping your head back away from the security of his neck to press his plush lips to your forehead, bestowing the gentlest of kisses there.

All you could do was nod your head dumbly, feeling the pull of his lips into a cocky smirk when you did so, glassy eyes rolling into the back of your head. The overstimulation was almost too much, causing tears to collect at the corners of your fluttering lids.

Steve’s breath was hot in your hair, stifled curses passing his kiss-bruised lips that were every so often interrupted by a hiss through the teeth.

You were burning all over, especially so where Steve had his hands on you, a blazing sun beneath each one of his fingertips. Steve was scorching twice as hot, cool waves of shaky exhale escaping your nostrils scattering goose-flesh down his forearm.

“Mmmm, mmm, mmmm” was all you could mumble over and over again behind the restriction of your gag, wiggling your hips to angle them up a little higher, lost in total euphoria when Steve’s cock slid down and the first few inches slipped in.

“Fuuuuck, baby,” he drawled low, sickeningly lustful, “You’re being a greedy fucking girl” Steve released your mouth then, inhaling a broken breath as he moved his hand down to grasp midway up his length, squeezing a little brutal. Your cunt fluttered, aching for him.

“This what you want, huh?” he teased your hole, the head of his cock barely disappearing into where you needed him most. Steve pressed further into you so you were chest to chest, pulling at your hips without mercy.

Forehead to forehead, shiny lips merely inches apart as Steve smirked when your mouth opened in a silent ‘O’, groaning a devilish rattle in his throat when your back arched somewhat grotesque as he slapped the tip against your sodden clit.

“This is what I want” you agreed, in complete mumbling nodding disarray, unable to change the angle of your hips now due to the threatening looming spasm in your calves, wishing that he would just give in already and fuck you like you both wanted.

“Please. Please Steve, I need you. I need you” your begging trailed off into fucked out drawls, air-headed demands dripping from your lips, another orgasm looming on the horizon as promising as the rising sun, cheeks flushed scarlett.

But obviously Steve wasn’t going to let you cum again. That would just be greedy now, wouldn't it?

Steve cursed, hitching your leg up even higher, marking the outline of a red handprint into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. It took everything in you not to cry out, sobbing because it felt so fucking good. Too good, a shock rolling up into the pit of your stomach at every drag of Steve’s weeping tip over the hood of your clit.

“Gonna paint this pretty pussy, honey. Gonna keep my cum in these little panties f’me, yeah? Keep ‘em on until I can fuck you like you deserve later” Steve grunted, nosing at your hairline.

You watched as Steve hauls himself back, granting you some relief when his weight wasn’t crushing you against the bathroom sink. Both sets of eyes snapped down to where you met, mouths dropped open and heaving as he took his cock fully in his fist, ensuring you remained nice and spread open for him.

Steve flicked his wrist once, twice, three times. Swearing and whining something filthy, taking his bottom lip harshly between his teeth. The neediness in his moans had you squeezing around nothing, and Steve saw the throb of your entrance. That alone was enough to have him keening.

“Fuck, fuck. Oh my god, i’m cumming i’m cumming for you” Steve’s jaw falls slack, eyes squeezing shut in almost pained release.

Just as he promised, Steve’s warm seed spurts just above your clit, flooding down the seam of your slit to puddle at the center of your underwear.

You wrap your arms around his neck again, pulling him into you so you can press sloppy kisses into his neck. Steve is almost wheezing, short-winded and completely drunk on the buzz of his orgasm.

“Such a good girl for me” he laughed quietly, finally releasing your aching leg so he could pull your panties up. The feel of Steve’s release slick in your underwear felt foreign, strange. But you knew that if you didn’t follow through with his orders, you would face the consequences for it later.

Which was both a good and bad thing, but you enjoyed the fizzing giddy warmth that encompassed the space between your ribs when Steve showered you with praise. It was a high you never wanted to come down from.

After some soothing backstrokes, and when you felt secure in the fact that you wouldn’t topple over when Steve no longer held you upright, you both apprehensively filed out of the bathroom.

Your legs were wobbly, though you played it off rather well. Steve was still fixing the wild strands of his locks that were now uncharacteristically out of place when you approached the front of the store.

Back to the counter, arms folded and looking far from impressed, Robin watched as the two of you reappeared, her brow quirking when you adjusted the strap of your shirt.

“You guys are disgusting” Robin tutted, her top lip curling upstairs to bear her top row of teeth, button nose wrinkling in repulsion.

“Can you please refrain from covering any other surfaces in bodily fluids whilst I go on break?”

“Oh my goooddd, Robin!” Steve’s eyebrows sank, drawing his forefinger and thumb across his eyelids to pinch at the bridge of his nose, the tips of his ears dusting the prettiest shade of pink.

She tapped at the non-existent watch on her wrist, “Twenty minutes!! Twenty minutes ago I was supposed to be perusing a Bill’s Deli turkey sandwich!” her gravelly voice cracking slightly under the pressure, “And where were you? Sucking face and becoming parents in the bathroom? Life is good for some!”.

Your cheeks filled with a laugh you couldn’t hold in, between Robin’s blatant abhorrence and Steve keeling over from cringe-induced nausea, you could barely keep it together.

“We’re so sorry, Robs. It won’t happen again.” you assured her through a giggle, rubbing your legs together to feel the now cool collection of cum sitting snugly there, running a comforting hand up Steve’s arm in an attempt to resurrect him from his premature death.

It won’t happen again, will it?

[heavqn]

soaked, colby brock.

smut below the cut, x female!reader.

“yeah, you like that?” his voice was raspy, the grip he had on her hair never faltering as he pushed her head into the pillow. the most she could was try and nod, whimpering out a feeble yes in response.

he laughed, snapping his hips sharply then stopping to pull her up by her hair. “didn’t hear an answer baby.” he told her, bringing her back to his chest as he held her in place. “i love it, please, keep going.” she immediately told him, finally being able to breathe since they started.

“that’s my girl.” he kept her up, but started to rut his hips into her. the new position allowed for a new angle which meant colby was hitting all the right spots. she was practically soaking by this point, feeling a mix of her and his fluids trailing down her thigh.

the hand not holding her up found its way down to her clit, rubbing small circles onto the sensitive nub as he picked up his pace. “wanna cum, please.” she moaned, arching in his hold. his cock was hitting that sensitive spot inside her, and him playing with her clit definitely didn’t help.

“nuh-uh, i’m not done with you.” he told her, biting her shoulder lightly before pulling out and flipping her onto her back. “wanna see that gorgeous face when you cum. always look so good.” he told her, inching back into her as he leaned down to kiss her.

when he bottomed out and pulled away from the kiss, she was already out of breath. colby could last for hours if he wanted but she had her limits. despite how much she loved colby and his cock, she didn’t have nearly as much stamina as he did. so him prolonging her orgasm for at least two rounds was the least she could do for him.

he picked up his pace quickly, hips snapping quickly. the sound of his skin hitting hers was deafening, but her moans were louder. he was groaning above her, feeling himself getting closer to cumming. he grabbed her calf, lifting her leg up to set it on her shoulder.

the new angle made her release a high moan, an almost angelic sound to colby. “god, please. ‘m so close.” she whined, slightly pushing her hips into his the best she could, trying to keep up with his pace.

“come on baby, wanna see you cum.” he encouraged her, never slowing down as he watched her desperately rub at her clit to try and get to that high she craved. “oh, fuck fuck.” she moaned out, back arching as she came.

“yeah, there she is. always so pretty when you cum baby.” he praised her. his pace faltered, hips stuttering as he felt himself about to finish. “want it in me, colbs. please.” she begged, still moaning from the sensitivity she was feeling.

“whatever you want honey.” he told her, leaning closer to her as he came. “fuck, baby. did so good.” he smiled down at her, giving her cheek a small pat as he spoke. “mm, maybe we can go again?” she offered, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer. “yeah?” she nodded, smiling up at him. he laughed, no words needed as he pulled out and immediately went down between her thighs.

[atsumulogy]

“atsumu, when i die —”

“no, stop, don’t say that. ‘ya aren’t going to die.” he interrupted you before you could even finish, his gaze burning.

“of course i won’t, i’m immortal!” you joked. and to this, he flashed a small smile.

“but, hypothetically, if i do die, i want you to make my coffin look cute. maybe LED lights? yeah, and —” you were cut off with your rambling by a kiss to your lips. the two of you savoring the fleeting moment, gripping onto his shirt as you felt yourself weaken from his touch.

“yes, angel, i’ll do that okay? now stop yappin’ about ‘ya dying. ‘ya aren’t goin’ to die. i — i won’t even let ‘ya.” he said with so much determination that you couldn’t help but believe him.

your eyes feel heavy. “‘tsumu?”

“hm?” he looks at you, shimmering eyes.

“i’m tired, i wanna go to sleep.”

“oh — okay, sure — i, i love ‘ya, goodnight. let’s talk again tomorrow, m’kay?” he asked, the hope in his voice felt quite cruel to even exist.

“of course, i love you.”

the beeping from the monitor went to a deafening halt. atsumu felt like he was suffocating, the air in his lungs evaporating. you — the air that filled his lungs, the air he breathes, ceased. the shimmer in his eyes turned into tears.

you two never really did get to properly talk again tomorrow, or the day after that, or ever again.

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

I lovea him

[rafeandonlyrafe]

country club bathroom part 4

words: 800

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, protected sex

part one / part two / part three / part four

you feel giggly, giddy as rafe has his arm around your shoulder, walking you towards tanneyhill.

you're so out of it, so excited and distracted by the sudden public display of affection that you don't even realize there are other cars sitting in the driveway until you're inside, coming face to face with ward cameron in the entryway.

“this is y/n.” rafe says. he doesn't use any label, but it's clear from how your arm is around his waist, gripping his side, that you're more than friends.

“y/n…” ward mumbles the name, trying to place why you look familiar. “don't you work at the country club?”

“yeah.” you nod, not sure what else to say as the silence stretches, until rafe breaks it by clearing his throat.

“we are uh, seeing each other.” he leaves it at that. 

“boyfriend girlfriend?” ward asks, making you stifle a giggle as you look at rafe, his cheeks turning pink, still embarrassed at being caught by his parent, even if he is a grown adult.

“i mean we haven't worked out the labels yet…” rafe mumbles.

“yes, sir.” you stop rafes rambling. “boyfriend girlfriend.”

“alright…” wards eyes flicker between the two of you. “be safe.” he says before walking away, your eyes widening when you realize what he means.

rafe hurries you up to his room after that, not wanting to encounter any of his other family members.

“did you mean what you said?” rafe cups your cheeks, pressing a peck against your forehead, then nose, then lips.

“about being your girlfriend? i mean you haven't asked me yet sooo…” you mumble, making your intentions clear.

“be my girlfriend? ive known country club workers who have dated members before, as long as it's serious they never get in any trouble.”

your heart warms a little at rafe considering your job, not wanting you to lose what he knows is a precious source of income for you.

“yes.” you nod. “yes, of course ill be your girlfriend.”

“perfect.” rafe hums, pulling you towards his bed. you kick your shoes off before you crawl up, slotting yourself on rafes lap as he lays against the pillows.

“want you so bad.” he mumbles, grabbing your hips and pushing them down into his crotch, dragging you back and forth so you can feel every inch of his length, even through the layers of clothing.

“yeah?” you smirk, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “because you have me.”

the words send rafe into a spiral, instantly flipping you over, and before you know it, you are both naked, rafe having ripped both of your clothes off, his cock now sliding through your folds, only willing to tease you and take it slow now that you're both naked.

“remember what ward said.” you manage to gasp out, even as the head of his cock pushes against your clit. “be safe.”

“right, fuck.” rafe has to pull away to reach into his bedside table, to grab out a condom.

you take the foil from him the second it's within reach, smirking as you place it between your teeth to rip the packaging open. 

reaching down, you slide it over his length, suddenly looking a lot bigger now that he's going inside of your cunt instead of just in your mouth.

“fuck, your hands are so good.” rafes eyes shut as he hovers over you, your hand stroking up and down his cock. you smile at his clearly blissed out expression that you've seen so many times before. you angle his cock to line it up with your entrance, hand falling away when he begins to push his hips forward.

“oh fuck.” you whine out, arms wrapping around rafes shoulders as you tug him closer. he is slow to bury his cock inside of you, wanting to make sure you have plenty of time to adjust to make up for his lack foreplay, but he just couldn't wait to get inside you.

“m… more. it's okay.” you mumble. “i can take it.”

“mmm, you sure pretty girl?” rafe asks, a smirk playing on his face. when you nod and raise your hips slightly, rafe takes it as his sign, suddenly speeding up and deepening his thrusts. 

“shh, shh.” rafe presses his lips against yours when you moan a little too loud. “the walls aren't completely soundproof.”

he knows you're probably fine, but with sarahs room next door, he doesn't want to take any chances and get caught.

“sorry.” you whimper, still moaning but managing to keep it quieter, even when rafe reaches down and rubs his fingers over your clit, already knowing just how you like it from all the times in the country club bathroom where he flipped up your skirt to touch you.

“gonna have to fuck you somewhere no one else is around.” rafe says. “need to hear your moans.” “so you’re not gonna fuck me at work in the country club bathroom?” you giggle, nails scraping down rafes back.

“oh no.” rafe shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your mouth. “i’m gonna fuck you there too.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid

[oceanwithouthermoon]

one of my favorite (/sarcastic but not really cuz its like funny idk) things in fandoms is when people make ocs or self inserts or 'x readers' being shipped with characters, but the oc/sona/reader is literally just another character from the source material.. its like youre shipping the characters but didnt want to admit it, so you made a kinsona and branded it as something else..

and its NEVER subtle, actually its super blatant every time and im always shocked when nobody points it out..

i have seen uncountable saiki k x readers where the description is like:

"saiki meets someone whose thoughts he cant read for the first time, and even though he doesnt trust her at first, she keeps proving that she is kind and has good intentions!" you mean nendo? reader is girl nendo?

"this time, he meets a girl whose thoughts honestly match up with her spoken words almost perfectly for the first time!" hairo. youre shipping saiki with girl hairo.

"saiki meets someone whose thoughts are too fast and jumbled to re-" ITS AKECHI, THATS AKECHI, ITS LITERALLY AKECHI.

"saiki meets someone whose just as immune to teruhashi as he is for the first and only tim-" this is hairo again, awe bae you secretly LOVE haisai ?!?

"saiki sees his old childhood friend for the first time in years after an incident caused them to be apart and then they fall in lov-" WHY DID YOU EVEN WRITE THIS AND NOT CALL IT SAIKECHI.

its even funnier when they say its like that characters little sister, but the way they write it is still literally just the character, like their personality, dialogue, even their relationship, is the same..

not all of them fit this exactly, but the ones that take a boy character and turn them into a girl oc to ship them with a boy, it reminds of how in equestria girls they couldnt make applejack and rarity endgame so they gave them boyfriends who looked IDENTICAL to each other.. thats what youre creating, guys, youre creating heterosexual rarijack.

[mintkookiess]

If Only.

Worst mistake to write angst while listening to a sad playlist oh my god I kid you not, I started ugly sobbing during the climax that I needed a quick break before continuing. Don't mind me, just gonna sulk in a corner for a while.

Love,

Mint

Summary: Hanahaki disease. That’s all I’m placing here.

Tags: Miles Morales x reader, Hanahaki disease, angst (no happy ending again), death, don't forget your tissues, not proofread, maybe I'll do it later

Warnings: Major character death, mentions of blood

Your eyes pried open on another normal, already dragging, Tuesday morning. The alarm clock on your bedside table wasn’t even loud enough to wake you, seeing as how you slept through it. You carefully laid to your side, as the all-too-familiar cough climbed up your throat. This went on for a minute until you see a small pile of petals on the floor. 

“Shit…” You muttered to yourself, groggily grabbing the glass of water that you’d already prepared the previous night like always. This was the normal morning routine for you.

Wake up. Cough those stupidly red petals. Get through the day. Cough even more petals. Go home. Sleep. Repeat.

On this particular morning, however, it was quite different because you could hear the voice of your best friend outside your dorm.

“Hey, you awake yet?” Miles asked, knocking softly to make sure he doesn’t wake you if you were still asleep. You always thought that was kind of him. 

You forced yourself up and out of your bed, shoving back the blankets then dragged your feet to open the door. 

“I’m awake. Why are you here? Thought you’d be waiting at the school entrance like usual.” You said huskily, still with that morning voice. Your best friend shook his head, “I kinda woke up a little early today so I thought I’d come to pick you up from your place instead.” 

You couldn’t help but smile. 

He was just too good for you.

“Fine. Let me get changed at least.” You chuckled, before closing the door in his face. You laid your back against it, sliding down to the floor as you felt that familiar ache in your chest.

In just a few seconds, you started hacking once more right then and there.  

Ah, was it because I wasn’t expecting him here this morning?

“H-Hey, you good?” You hear Miles ask from the other side, making you scramble up. “I’m fine Miles just um… choked on my saliva.” You lied. Your hands quickly grab the tiny broom and pan you kept and started sweeping up all the red petals that decorated your floor. 

You then threw every single last one in your already overflowing bin. I’d have to clear that out before he sees it.

You quickly changed into some more decent clothes before grabbing your bag and heading out to see Miles laying against the opposite wall of the door, he gave you a small smile and stood up. “Ready?” 

You nodded in response, making sure to lock your door before you both head down. 

“Oh right, Gwen is actually coming with us to class today if that’s okay,” Miles said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his hair. 

You made it like your life’s mission to ignore Gwen at all costs. It was entirely selfish, but it wasn’t like it really did you any favors with your… disease. Miles had confronted you about this a couple of times, but you just came up with lie after lie. You didn’t want to, because you can’t exactly tell him the true reason. 

Of course, your best friend knew you were lying, but he just didn’t want to pry because it might make you uncomfortable. And you were thankful for that. Until now. 

“Miles—”

“I know I know I just… It was a last-minute thing.” Miles said, trying to reason with you, “It’ll be just this once I swear. I know you’re not exactly a fan of her but, can’t you still try? I mean maybe if you got to know her better—“

“Fine.” You sighed, finally agreeing. 

Doctor Sanchez’s words suddenly echoed in your head like a siren that was loudly warning you. 

“Stop feeding yourself even more hurt. Ignore, lie, and do anything you can to stop. It’ll slow it down, but not much.”

Oh, how you knew. This was practically engraved into your mind, heart, body, and soul. You said this to yourself so many times like an oath. Avoid the hurt. 

But you can’t keep being a bad friend to Miles any more than you already have. 

The both of you continued to walk to the lobby of your school in complete silence. Miles could only bite his lip in nervousness, though he just wanted to ask why you happened to dislike Gwen so much, he just didn’t want to make you mad. His grip on his backpack’s straps only tightens at the thought. 

What is really going on with you? He thought to himself. 

Your eyes stared straight forward as you both reached your destination. It wasn’t long until it spotted the familiar blonde girl from a distance.

Gwen gave a light wave to the two of you as she walked toward where you both were standing. 

“Hey Gwen, what’s up?” Miles greeted, his face lighting up in an instant like some Christmas tree in New York. 

You forced yourself to look away but still got a glimpse of it. 

Why did I agree to this?

Your chest tightened, and you instinctively covered your mouth with a hand. No please, not here. Not right now.

“Um hey…” Gwen cautiously greeted you. She tried to give you a friendly smile to which you only nodded.

Miles could already sense the growing tension and suddenly clapped his hands together. “So, physics class? We gotta bounce or we’d all be marked late.” 

“Yeah, we should go.” You mumbled, walking past them while still covering your mouth as if it would stop the cough that was threatening to let out. 

Gwen and Miles looked at each other worriedly but silently followed behind you. 

You could hear them talk in hushed voices behind you, but your entire focus was on trying to not cough in the school hallways. 

The Hanahaki disease isn’t exactly a secret. Everyone knows what it is. And you’d rather burn in hell than have people find out. Especially him and her.

Your other hand clutched your chest as you tried to walk faster because you wanted to keep a safe distance between you and the other two as much as possible before you practically start vomiting those red petals on the school floors. 

“Is… she okay?” Gwen whispered to Miles with clear concern. She knew you didn’t exactly like her, she wasn’t an idiot. Gwen believes that it’s because she suddenly entered your two-man friend group without warning when in reality, it was so much more than that. 

“Sorry about her…” Miles sighed, his head hung low and a frown decorated his lips. You were his absolute best friend, and to see you being like this with Gwen makes him ache. If only, he could know what was wrong, but he also wanted to respect your space. It has him torn between two cautious choices that could end up in the worst way possible. He just didn’t know how deep the consequences would be. 

Other than the different morning you had, it was just like any other day. You were able to stop yourself from coughing for the most part, but if you couldn’t take it you’d excuse yourself to the bathroom, letting out a few petals in the toilet and flushing them away. 

During lunchtime, it was usually just you and Miles at the cafeteria, but Gwen decided to tag along once again. So you had the utmost pleasure to see the two joke about and discuss things that you never understood because you weren’t a Spider person like them.

You watched as Miles laughed and smiled at everything she said, and all you could do was mindlessly stab your food in hopes of drowning out and forgetting what you're currently witnessing. However, you immediately started coughing. Your hands instantly flew to your mouth to keep the petals in your mouth. 

You gave Miles a panicked look before running out the cafeteria and into the bathroom, immediately vomiting all the petals that had accumulated inside your mouth, and for the rest of lunch, you were stuck there, filling up the toilet with the petals that were such an eye sore to you as hot tears flowed down from your eyes.

Miles had tried to bring it up during the succeeding classes, only for you to turn him down every single time. He finally gave up, but was still worried because he sensed something different about you today. 

Your doctor did prescribe you some suppressants for the disease, but you refused it time and time again. Taking those suppressants would make you slowly lose grip on your feelings for Miles. 

As much as it hurt you, you didn’t want that. 

To hell with those fucking petals, who cares if it’s taking your life little by little every day?  Your love for him was too great, too good of a feeling. It was worth it. 

It’ll be worth it. 

When you asked your doctor how much more time you have left, they didn’t give a direct answer but you knew. You already knew that it wasn’t long. Few months give or take. Maybe even shorter than that.

Once classes were done, you gave Miles your usual goodbye hug before heading out of campus to the hospital for your daily check-up for the Hanahaki disease. 

Your doctor did the usual tests, examining a petal of yours, conducting blood tests, scans, etc. 

After an hour, she called you back into her office for the results. You were halfway into taking your seat as she already shoots the question that you’d been dreading to be asked. 

“Have you been taking your suppressants?” 

In truth, you didn’t tell her that the pills were just laying on the floor somewhere in your dorm. You weren’t going to be lectured by your doctor. 

“Yes.” You lied, eyes looking everywhere in her office but her. Your eyes focused on this particular vase, where a single flower laid there. It was the same shade of red as yours, making you chuckle.

Before your doctor could start telling you about how important commitment was to the treatment, you start wheezing. 

But this time, it felt different. 

Your lungs felt like they ran out of air, your throat was like it had been clogged and you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes widened as you took sharp inhales, but for some reason, you couldn’t exhale at all. You fell off your chair and into the floor, gripping your throat, nails digging to scratch your skin from the excruciating pain. 

Doctor Sanchez was quick to get down to you, rubbing your back as her face filled with worry. “It’s at its final stage, you have to tell him—“

“No!” You yelled, surprised that you were even able to utter a single word. Shortly after that however, you were back to heaving. Your hand was now in a fist, punching your chest in an attempt to get out whatever it was that was in your lungs. 

Your mind started to fog up, and your vision was slowly going black until you saw it. 

The fully formed flowers on the ground. 

There were no petals, this time they were fully bloomed roses. 

They were so pretty that it was almost laughable. Something beautiful was stemming from your despair and suffering. At least there was one thing good happening from your godforsaken disease. 

Miles, on the other hand, barged into your dorm to bring the textbooks he borrowed from you, or at least that’s what his excuse was gonna be to you. It was your number one rule that he shouldn’t just come into your room when you were gone, but he could sense something off with you today. Much more than usual. And he was determined to find out.

He had an extra key for emergencies, so he entered without any problems. He took in your room, setting down the textbooks on your desk as he took a seat by the edge of your bed. 

She’s not here. He thought to himself, sighing. 

As his brown eyes roamed the different bits and bobs around your dorm, he suddenly spotted something behind your desk. Miles squinted his eyes, wondering what it was. “Is that… a petal?” He wondered out loud. He crept up to it, crawling under your desk to grab the petal. “What the…” His fingers examined it carefully until he spotted something from the corner of his eye. There were more. 

A lot more.

His eyes slowly widened at the bin of red petals. It was so full that the petals had dissipated around it on the floor. Miles’ eyebrows scrunched up together, wondering where all these could be from until… it dawned on him. 

“Hanahaki? But… but how I…” He stuttered. He pulled the bin towards him with shaking hands, inspecting the petals that had a rich shade of red. Almost similar to that of his Spiderman suit. 

She… She had this all along and hid it from me I…

He spots another item, it was a pill bottle. Except its contents were scattered, and the bottle itself was cracked as if it was thrown against the wall and fell behind your desk. 

Miles picked it up, dreading to see what it was. He slowly turned it around to see the words “Hanahaki suppressants - Y/n L/n 30 pills 150 mg” written in big bold letters that stared back at him.

He drops it out of shock, chest heaving and breaths coming in quickly. 

He was confused, so confused about everything. Why would you hide such a thing from him…? 

Doctor Sanchez called for emergency assistance, she grabbed the intercom in a panic. “Code blue! I repeat code blue! Medical assistance to room 1304 now! Code blue!” 

In a matter of seconds, doctors and nurses have already carried your body to a hospital bed, as roses continuously shook out of your mouth.

Your entire body was flaring up and all you could do was scratch your neck so hard that it almost draws blood. Your nose and ears have started to bleed out, and it was as if your skull was being cut open and stabbed repeatedly.

You couldn’t even form words as the nurses continued to push you into room 1304 for emergency treatment. The people at the hospital looked over in pity and nervousness as they watched the girl with the Hanahaki disease being pushed across the hallway as roses start to flood after her bed like a trail. 

Even if it felt like the pain was eating your entire body alive, all you could think of was him. 

Please, I need to see him. Even for just one more second, please.

But Miles doesn’t even know anything about this, and it just increases your already large amount of regret. 

I should’ve told him. Even though I know he doesn’t like me back, I should’ve told him. 

He’s my best friend. And I can't even say goodbye.

But maybe this was for the best. I wouldn't want him to see me in such a pathetic state.

Miles was quick to suit up, flinging himself out of your window in a matter of miliseconds. He didn’t know where to find you, and all he could do was rack his brain on the places that you could be in. As he continuously swung around the city, tears formed in his eyes behind his mask.

He was angry. So angry at himself for not noticing. Furious at the fact that he already knew something has been off with you for the past months, but he didn’t try hard enough to know what it was. He was mad because he just let you suffer alone. 

Some friend I am. He thought on repeat. 

He tried to use his senses to see if he could pinpoint your location, running and swinging between endless crowds and roads, because something felt terribly wrong. 

Miles didn’t know what exactly it was, but he knew. 

He had to hurry.

“Time of death… 5:47 pm.” Your doctor read from the monitor in a monotone voice. She wrote down the information with trembling hands. Her eyes crept up to see you on the hospital bed, frozen and still.

The static sound of the heart monitor was so deafening and seemed louder than it normally was. There was a heavy silence in the hospital’s emergency area as everyone present stood still. 

Another poor youthful soul had been taken by such a cruel disease.

Suddenly, the door banged open, and there stood Miles who was breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath. 

His brown eyes spotted you and it was as if time had stopped running, as if the world around him disappeared just like that. 

Miles slowly took in the sight before him, your doctor who stood by the edge of your bed with a deep frown, you who was laying still, eyes closed. He also tried to process the flowers that filled up the entire floor of the room. These were roses, but he knew their petals. 

“I believe you are him?” Doctor Sanchez asked with a poor attempt at a professional tone. Miles’ mouth was still agape in shock, his mind refusing to process what he was seeing as he slowly looked at her. “Wh-What?” The doctor sighed, hugging her clipboard to her chest. “You’re her unrequited love, yes? You’re Miles Morales?”

The poor boy couldn’t muster a single word right now, so all he could do was slightly nod at her. “Time of death was 5:47, the cause is… Hanahaki.” She reported with an aching heart as she sees Miles’ expression. 

“I… I never knew until I saw the…” Miles couldn’t even bring himself to say it, that maybe if he didn’t then all of this wouldn’t be true. He took slow steps towards you, each one being heavier than the last as if they weighed a thousand pounds.

It felt as if his heart stopped beating, and his body no longer functioned as he stared down at you. His quivering fingers tried to grab your hand, only to find that it was cold… Too cold…

Right at that second, tears had already started to stream down his cheeks silently. Miles bit his lip hard as he started to harden his grip on your hand. He placed it between both his hands and he rubbed violently.

Maybe if he did so, he’d be able to bring back some warmth into your body. Maybe he’d feel that familiar tingling sensation that he always felt when both your hands would touch. He was silently praying that it was a prank, that he’d feel your fingers wrap around his, and that you’d tell him you were fine. 

But it never came. 

Your chest wasn’t rising up and down, there seemed to be no more color in your face, no more life. Your lips have turned a faint blue as dried blood surrounded your nose and ears. 

He refused to think of what this meant. He wasn’t going to believe it. He… He just can’t. 

“But I… I love her too.” Miles hiccuped between tears. He felt his legs give out, making him fall to his knees but the flowers had cushioned him from hitting the floor. Even in this state, you manage to keep him from feeling pain.

Doctor Sanchez’s breath hitched in her throat and she couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. “She thought you liked someone else. She didn’t want you to worry so she hid it I… I’ve tried to tell her that she should confess, to tell you how she felt but she… she was dead set on thinking that… she was never enough for you.” After one last breath, she walked towards the door. “I’ll… give you some privacy.”

Once the door closed behind him, Miles weakly stood up and that’s when it started. He let out the most painful cry so loud that everyone outside the room could hear. 

His hands gripped his hair, pulling at it vigorously as he continued to bawl his heart out in agony. 

The truth was, he loves you more than anyone in this entire world. He loves you with every fucking fiber of his being, with every cell in his body. All of it was yours, every heartbeat of his was dedicated to you. You were a major part of why he wanted to keep being Spiderman, so he could protect you. 

So he could shield you away from any harm or danger. 

And yet, he still couldn’t save you. 

He started to feel suffocated as he punched the floor with his fists, almost cracking it in the process. 

He was so goddamn furious at himself. 

He felt like the biggest fucking coward in the entire universe. 

If only, if only he had mustered even the slightest of courage to tell you of how he felt, then this wouldn't have happened. You'd still be alive. 

Miles was now wailing in anger and pain that he couldn’t even begin to describe. 

The realization has finally started to kick in. 

He had lost you. 

You suffered alone because you thought your love for him was unrequited and would never have been returned. 

You didn’t believe in the possibility. But oh how wrong you were.

You didn't see the passion, love, and admiration in his eyes whenever he looked at you. You failed to notice the little things he did for you, like remembering your favorite things, or bringing you to your favorite places.

How he would pluck flowers from the school garden and gave it to you, or maybe even the times where he'd let you copy his answers on a test.

You just thought he was such a good friend.

If only… If only the both of you have tried a bit harder. Maybe then, it didn’t have to end this way.

Fin.

More of my Miles content here babes!

(if yall wanna be on my taglist feel free to let me know!)

[ghost-proofbaby]

I’m so glad you liked the jokes!

(I though they were hilarious because my sense of humor is nothing if not bad dad jokes, puns, and sarcasm. But I can’t even take credit for them because I found them online haha)

For the blurb idk if you intended for me to ask for something specific or not but I kinda just want to see what you’ll come up with if that’s okay? I feel like any idea you had would be better than mine anyway lol. Up to you really on whether or not you already have ideas or need some help. ♥️

the jokes were so so good i loved them truly. my sense of humor is the exact same way. and oh bless your soul for letting my mind run wild. i present to you all an idea that literally sent me feral, in which you've got some new perfumes and eddie is a blind idiot.

warnings: fem!reader, reader is very vaguely described as having hair that is at least shoulder length as well as buying items such as bras perfumes and chapsticks, hints at sexual themes but no actual smut, neck kissing and just good old fashioned kissing happens, eddie is kind of a perv? a little bit? also, not edited (what's new?) minors dni.

wc: 4.1k+ (i got a little carried away)

“Smell this.” 

The demand is paired with a sudden wrist in Eddie’s face that nearly has him falling off the bed. 

“Excuse me?” 

You and Eddie had been best friends for a while now. Since that first week of freshman year. Eddie, in all his awkward glory, had leaned up from his seat behind you in Mrs. Damon’s first hour English class, stabbed you right in the shoulder blade with a dully sharpened pencil just to inform you that he liked your shirt. You, in all your teacher’s pet façade, had only shushed him harshly and glared before turning back around. But some time between the ice breakers and the saving grace of the first bell of what would be a long high school career, you’d decided you would address him before you’d scurried out of that classroom and thank him. But not before you’d informed him that you didn’t even know the band displayed, had just thrifted the shirt for looking cool, and had unknowingly sent Eddie on a mission to educate you in the glory of his favorite band. 

And nearly six years later, he was still on that mission. You were stubborn and had sworn loyalty to Fleetwood Mac before Eddie and Metallica had ever even stood a chance. 

He doesn’t mind. He’d listen to the Rumors album on repeat for the rest of his days if it meant he always ended up in this position at the end of the day — in his room, on his bed, lounging with you to pass the time. 

Your wrist is still held up dangerously close to Eddie’s face in the present day, a look of determination and contemplation overtaking you, “Smell. My. Wrist.” 

Six years is a long time to grow comfortable with someone. And, in Eddie’s case, fall in love with your best friend. 

“I’m not smelling your wrist, weirdo,” he mumbles as he swats your hand away, squinting at the way you were perched on your knees as they sunk into his mattress. He had been halfway to a much needed nap before you had lost interest in whatever magazine you’d been reading, “Why do you even need me to? What didja do to it?” 

His words are still half slurring from fatigue. If he cuts off your pestering strategically enough, he might still achieve that nap his heavy bones so desperately yearned for. 

You readjust yourself, flopping down to sit beside Eddie with your legs stretched out as he lifts himself up. Shoulder to shoulder, calf along calf, the two of you prop your backs against his warm bedroom wall, “I went to Starcourt yesterday with Nancy and bought some new perfumes-“

“Perfumes?” he wrinkles his nose, “Plural?” 

He would have sworn he’d have noticed a new perfume, but these days, he’d been trying to put some restraint on his pathetic crush. Tried to tame the yearning inside of him, which meant less indulging in things like sniffing the air like a freakish dog whenever you entered a room just to drink in the smell of you that had brought him so much comfort over the years. Less letting his eyes linger on the straps of the bras you’d started wearing more of since you’d begun to hang out more with the likes of Nancy Wheeler, who had been single-handedly teaching you how to be a girl in a way Eddie had never witnessed from you. 

You’d wasted most of your critical youth surrounded by boys, by Eddie. Go figure that Wheeler was jumping at the opportunity to mold a blank canvas.

“Yes, I bought perfumes, plural, as in multiple- oh, don’t give me that look, Munson,” you scowl when he makes a face, wrinkles forming adorably between your brows. (Brows he was pretty sure Nancy had plucked for you last weekend, but again — Eddie wasn’t supposed to notice those things anymore. Tampering the crush, or whatever idiotic goal he had set for himself.), “They were on a BOGO sale. Bite me. Anyways, I got these new perfumes, and one of the ladies was telling me and Nance how you should layer your scents. Which, God, doesn’t that sound ridiculous?”

Eddie hums, eyebrows raised skeptically at where this rambling was going.

“So I bought these scents that she said might pair well together. But then, she was talking about body chemistry and-“ you cut yourself off, clearly realizing how boring this topic might be to someone like Eddie who hadn’t even picked out his own drugstore cologne (you had), “Listen, just… just stop questioning it and smell my wrist.” 

Once again, you hold your arm out in front of Eddie’s now softening face. He’s holding his breath, which he hopes you don’t notice, as he weighs his options.

Smell your wrist, probably subjecting himself to a terrible sort of pain when he realizes he'd much rather be placing feathery kisses there before moving onto your knuckles as he holds your hand. Or deny you, possibly hurt your feelings or offend you as he brushes this off as another girly thing he wanted nothing to do with. 

The fleeting image of your face if he were to reject you in this moment is enough to make his choice for him.

He never could say no to you.

“What am I even supposed to be smelling it for?” he grumbles as he reaches out and grabs your forearm, opting that safer territory than your hand as he guided your skin closer to him, “Like, I’m not a scents expert, sweet-“

Oh. 

Eddie’s brain short circuits as the tip of his nose brushes your soft skin. The pet name dies on his tongue, the inhale through his nose cutting off just as suddenly. 

Oh, God. Oh, fuck. 

He already knows he's a sucker for you, a dog with a bone when it comes to your presence and attention. He already relished in your old perfume's scent and the way it would cling to a room, lingering on his sheets when you’d sleep over after a movie night gone too late. When you’d borrow his Hellfire shirt and return it without washing it, leaving the collar tainted with sweetness and enough undertones of vanilla to make a chasm within him yearn terribly. 

But this new perfume, perfumes technically, were something different. They weren’t the same as the body spray you’d been using every day since freshman year. They were deeper, more complicated, more womanly than he had prepared himself for.

“Does it… does it smell good?” you meekly ask him, suddenly going shy at his frozen state, “Like, is it working with my… my own smell? Sometimes perfumes smell good on their own but don’t work with your body’s chemistry, that’s what the lady had been explaining to me and Nan-“

“It’s working.” 

It’s all he can manage to choke out as he lets go of your arm so that it falls away and takes the sweet smells with it. 

God, it was working.

Eddie felt more embarrassed than he had that first month of puberty, when he was just discovering girls and noticing the stretch of t-shirts over chests. He felt even more affected than the first time he’d let his eyes wander over the back of Cheryl T’s thighs the last day of eighth grade, and discovered the wonders of an ass’ curve. 

All his blood would not be rushing south. No. Absolutely not. He wouldn’t allow it, not when he was fully grown and should have some self-control, and certainly not when he was wearing his thinnest pair of boxers with grey fucking sweatpants. 

Your eyes are wide with innocence, or at least what he hopes is innocence, “Really? It smells good?”

He has to clear his throat before he can properly reply, “‘s good, yeah. It, uh, yeah. Smells good.” 

Think of naked grandmas. Think of kicked puppies. Think of literally anything except her soft ski-

“Awesome!” you’re suddenly sitting crisscross beside him, facing him fully, “Okay, that’s- awesome. Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” were you just as flustered as he was? Was he reading this wrong? “The lady actually told us - okay, I know it’s stupid and boring so bear with me - but she told us to put them on all our pulse points. So that way, it… uh… it makes the perfume last longer.” 

He can’t get the smell out of his nose. Something so sweet, something so enticing, something so… you. The perfumes were fancy, but somehow, they were you. Smells of summer and spring and tooth-aching sweetness that was driving Eddie mad.

He’ll never be able to let you sleep in his bed again. He doesn’t want to consider what shameful, hormone-fueled decisions he would make if he had to experience his pillow smelling like that even when you were long gone. 

Get it together, Munson. 

“Makes sense,” he lies, still struggling to get his tongue to function properly. All he’s thinking about is trailing it over that sweet spot on your wrist now, lips sucking on every inch of skin you currently had exposed- Naked grandmas. Kicked puppies, “Is that all you needed? Can I take a nap now?” 

Hell, he’s torn between wanting you to stay and ushering you out of his trailer so he can have a few moments alone. Weighing the risks of escaping to the bathroom for a few minutes too long just to get his problem under control. 

He’s twenty, not fifteen. A girl’s perfume should not be affecting him this way. 

Your face falls ever so slightly, “Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry. Like I said, I know it’s boring-“

“It’s not boring,” he interrupts, realizing that he’s mere seconds away from genuinely hurting your feelings. Or perhaps he’s already there, having been a complete idiot. He still remembers your face the day he’d contained his reaction to your new bra — how he’d gone into autopilot and snapped the strap like some little boy on the playground just to play off how flustered it made him. You hadn’t admitted it to him, but his reaction had hurt you. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, “The whole science behind it — it sounds pretty cool, honestly.” 

Nothing that made you so excited, so giddy, could ever be boring to him. He loved seeing you buzz with your emotions and expectancy. He just didn’t love the way his heart and mind seemed to run with every single, little, goddamn bone you tossed him. 

You were his best friend. He shouldn’t think of you like that. He couldn’t. 

“It is,” you light back up in the slightest, saucer eyes boring into his again. Not quite as animated as before, but not quite as deflated as you had been heading, “Actually- Can I ask another favor?”

Anything. 

“Sure, sweetheart,” his heart had finally slowed its pace, the reigns back in his control as the perfume lingered in the air but didn’t overwhelm him, “What’s up?” 

“So… the wrists aren’t the only pulse points you’re supposed to wear perfume on.” 

Oh, God. Where were you going with this?

“No?” he tries to tease, tries to smile at you. It’s fruitless — his heart has begun to pound again, “I sure hope it wouldn’t be. I mean, blood kind of rushes everywhere, isn’t that the point-“ 

“The neck,” you blurt out, making the rest of Eddie’s sentence disappear into the air, “The, uh, the neck is the other place. Well, not just the neck, it’s…” you trail off, twiddling with your thumbs for a second before you lift a hand to gather away any stray hairs from curtaining the side of your neck. You even go so far as to secure the hand behind your ear, “Behind the ears. You’re supposed to spray it behind your ears, too.”

“Okay…” he enunciates slowly, resisting the urge to bite his lip as he starts to catch up with where you’re going with this, and desperately hoping that he’s wrong. 

“Can you… Would you…” you pause and take a deep breath, eyes shutting for a second. When you open the back up, a new wave of determination is set around your pupils, “Eddie, can you smell my neck?” 

What sort of sick, twisted, wet dream am I living in right now? 

Eddie is suddenly convinced you never interrupted his attempt at a nap. He’s asleep right now, soundly curled into himself, and you’re still lounging casually with your magazine on the other side of his bed. That must be it, because there’s no way you’re actually offering him to press himself so closely into your vicinity as he’s only ever dreamed of. 

“What?” he weakly questions. 

If this is a dream, dear God, don’t let me wake up. 

“Can you smell my neck?” you repeat yourself with a little more confidence before pulling your best puppy dog eyes, “I just- I want to make sure it smells good. Everywhere.”  

Damn Nancy Wheeler for whatever journey of self-discovery she’d sent you on. Damn her, and damn the perfume lady, and damn Eddie for reaping such benefits. 

He should say no. He should really, really say no. 

He’s wearing goddamn grey sweatpants, he should say no. 

“S-Sure.” 

Famous last words. 

Your hair has already been moved, making it easier for Eddie when he leans forward at his waist. You lean in as well, jutting out your chin and angling your neck for his taking. 

It’s such a bad idea. 

The tip of his nose is bumping your skin again as his eyes flutter shut. He’s trying so hard to contain himself, to not make a fool of himself. But when he feels that softness again, when he’s being unraveled by warm notes of vanilla and patchouli, deep breaths of apple blossom of blackberry – he just breaks. 

He doesn’t realize that his lips have joined his nose in brushing up against your sweet spot until he hears you let out a shaky gasp, one that almost resembles a whine. 

His reaction should be to pull back. He should remove himself, apologize for going too far, stop before he’s fallen off the cliff himself. He doesn’t. 

Instead, he takes a moment of stillness as his head reels, overcome in the smell of your new perfume again and ears straining relentlessly to seek out another one of those pretty sounds. 

He wants to hear it again. He needs to know if it was a moan or a gasp, or nothing more than a ticklish breath. 

His lips pucker with intention this time. His nose trails up behind your ear, taking in the full bodied scent of the perfume on the skin as he places another chaste kiss against your pulse.

It’s racing. Your heartbeat is goddamn racing. 

The moment his lips connect, another gasp sounds. A sharp intake of breath that whistles so sweetly to his ears before you’re exhaling with a proper, albeit quiet, whimper. 

No amount of naked grandmas or kicked puppies can save him now. He’s a goner – he’s been a goner – and he leaps off that cliff full force now as he leans back and out of your space. 

Your eyes are shut. Eyelashes fluttering prettily, just barely brushing the skin beneath your eyes. 

He almost whispers out a gentle sweetheart as he stays close enough for you to feel his breath on that very same cheek, but when your eyes finally do open to meet his, he can’t get a single word out before his body moves to its own accord. 

His lips press to yours before he can overthink it.

He waits for the inevitable – for you to freeze up against him, for you to shove him off, for you to curse him out. He shouldn’t have done that. He should’ve asked for permission, he should have had more self-control. 

But you don’t. Instead, you take him by surprise and you kiss him back.

Instantly, without an inch of hesitation, your lips work in tangent with his. Parting and welcoming him as if they had been waiting for this moment longer than he could comprehend. Pressing back with just as much, if not more fervency as his do. You match his desperation every step of the way until you’ve both exhausted all the breath inside your lungs. He has no choice but to pull back, to part from you and gulp in oxygen before he makes any more bad decisions. 

Lord know he’s full of them when he’s suddenly gazing into your glossy eyes. 

“I’m sorry-” he immediately rushes out to apologize, but a sharp shake of your head halts him. 

“Don’t be,” you whisper, “I… Do it again.”

“What?” 

“Kiss me again. Please.”

Eddie isn’t in the business of making you beg; he never really can say no to you. 

He kisses you again. And again. And again. A collage of pecks and soft slipping, tasting your chapstick and somehow moving the two of you so that he’s back to his original position with his back against the wall, and you now straddling his lap. You hover, completely unaware of how much you’re affecting him. When you let his tongue slip into your mouth without any bartering, he ends up letting out a moan that slips right down your throat. His hands are still so hesitant, but when you reach down and encourage his palms to engulf wherever they please, he’s on a mission of exploration. Soft caresses to your thighs, from the ditch of your bent knees to the skin hardly hidden beneath the hem of your lounge shorts. They wind their way up the pathways of your hips, squeezing at the soft give of the flesh there before he continues upwards. Up, up, up – until they find home in the curve of your waist, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you impossibly close. 

That damn perfume doesn’t just linger, not anymore. With you pressed against him, with the way he’s wound so tightly around you, it drowns him. Vanilla, coffee, blackberry, apple blossoms. A multitude of scents he’s sure his plain nose can’t even pick up on, and that he doesn’t really care to name. All he cares about is the smell of you. Something new and something fancy, but so very you. 

“I-” you break from the kiss, “Can’t-” you smack another one on him, beginning to take initiative, “Believe-” the next one misses his mouth, hardly landing against the upturned corner, “It took-” your final kiss lands on his dimple before you pull back fully and cup his hands within your palms, still hovering and straddling his waist, “A stupid fucking perfume ruse to get you to kiss me.”

He’s lovedrunk, all slow blinks and dumb-founded smile as he looks up at you, hardly processing the words, “What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” you squeeze his cheeks a little tighter in your touch, “I can’t believe I had to pull that whole stupid act of fluttering my lashes and oh, Eddie, can you smell my perfume for me? To make sure it smells good? To finally get you to just do something.” 

His head clears a little as the ghost of your kiss still buzzes on his lips, “Wait- what?” 

Your palms slide away, scratching at what scruff has gathered across his jaw line before your hands fully fall away, “You made me act like a damn fool, Eddie Munson.”

“It was all just an act?” 

“I can’t believe you were so oblivious.”

“You only made me do that so I’d kiss you?” 

“That,” you shrug, curling your hands into fists and gingerly placing them on his chest as his arms untangle from you slightly, only his knuckles resting on your waist now, “And the bra thing. And the whole thing when I bought all those chapsticks and couldn’t pick a favorite flavor.”

“They all tasted good,” he says, confused as he peers up at your faux annoyance, “I even tried them on for you-”

“I didn’t want you to try them on,” you whine, letting a few breathy laughs slip as you sit back, resting your weight entirely on his thighs and narrowly missing his boner you surely hadn’t noticed yet, “I wanted you to taste them off of me. I wanted you to make me put each one on, and kiss me stupid before you’d demand that I move onto the next one. I wanted to be the one to get your lips all sticky, not the fucking chapstick tubes themselves.”

“You-” Eddie’s mouth drops wide open, nearly wider than his eyes, “Hold on, you only brought that up so I’d fucking kiss you?” 

You nod as if it had been obvious, grinning wildly now, “God, you’re dense, Munson. I kept telling Nancy you’d figure it out eventually-”

“What does Nancy have to do with this?” 

“Nancy has been trying to help me concoct ways to get you to grow the balls and kiss me for months now. Although, to be fair, the bra thing had been Steve’s idea.” 

“Harrington?” Eddie gasps out in disbelief as you only throw your head back in laughter. It’s a beautiful sound, one that makes Eddie’s heart race even more painfully than the perfume had, “You went to Harrington for advice about me?”

When you lift your head back up to look at him, you’re all soft smiles and delighted eyes as you quietly admit, “I was getting kind of desperate here.” 

His chest heaves, finger unfurling from around your waist. 

“I was starting to think maybe you just didn’t like me bac-”

Without warning, Eddie’s hands are gripping your hips and he’s flipping positions, pinning you beneath him. He can’t wrap his head around it. You’d been wanting him to kiss you all this time. And he’d been a blind idiot. Snapping your bra straps, stealing away chapsticks and applying them himself when this entire time, he could have been living out his wildest fantasies. 

He doesn’t give you a chance to say anything more as he begins to attack you with kisses. One for every missed opportunity. No expanse of skin goes untouched as they graze over your lips, your cheeks, your chin, your neck – anywhere Eddie can access feels the pressure of his eagerness. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he curses himself over your giggles, coming up for air just to stare at you, “I could have- Oh my God. Sweetheart, I’m such a fucking idiot.” 

“You are,” you agree breathlessly with aching cheeks, “God, you are.” 

He balances himself on his forearms as he stays lifted above you, his hair forming a curtain to cut the two of you off from the rest of the world. 

You’re beautiful. Even more beautiful than that first day he’d met you in class, when you’d shushed him and all he did in return was make absolute heart eyes at you. 

His best friend. The person he’d be yearning and pining for for six long years. Who had been trying to get him to kiss her for over six months now. 

“I like you,” you confess, not breaking eye contact as a hand comes up to his cheek. He’s quick to turn his head, to let your palm press against him as he presses a kiss to your inner wrist, the perfume engulfing him again, “In case that wasn’t obvious.” 

He swallows hard, letting his lips remove themselves slowly from your skin and his nose to linger as it presses into the smooth skin, “I like you, too. Have for a few years now.”

“A few?”

“Okay, yeah- the whole time,” his words pull a wider grin from you, “Don’t look so smug. I’m not letting you live down this whole perfume bullshit scheme.” 

“And I’m not letting you live down going feral over some overpriced scented oils,” you retort, your cute snort cut short as your breath catches when he kisses your wrist again, “In all seriousness, though… Do you really think it smells good?” 

He takes the opportunity to finally lower his hips. Just enough so that his crotch is brushing against your inner thigh, “Yeah, I think you could say I think they smell very good.” 

Your hand travels back, caressing at his ear and sending a shiver down his spine before both of them latch behind his neck, prepared to pull him down into a kiss, “You got hard over some new perfumes, Munson? God, you’re easy.” 

“I am,” he doesn’t fight it as he lets you, not gravity, tug him downwards, “I am so easy when it comes to you, baby.” 

“Good thing I’m wearing one of those new bras, then,” you muse, placing far too quick of a kiss for his liking onto his lips before you tug him a bit lower, burying his face back in the side of your neck as you whisper in his ear, “Prove it.” 

Eddie should probably send a thank you card to Nancy Wheeler and the mall’s perfume lady. Not Harrington, though. Never Steve Harrington.

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[lowaltitude]

Imperfect Storm | Billy Hargrove

- Stranger Things

- x Reader

❪ FEM! ❫ ❪ adult aroace virgin attempts to write smut ❫ ❪ Altitude ❫

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Billy Hargrove x AFAB+FEM!reader, in which there’s nowhere to escape. OR in which unexpected downpour and the start of a hurricane locks down Hawkins High trapping studious and rebellious together for hours.

𖥻 established relationships. bffs with steve bc im lazy. i could not for the life of me think up a reason from them to be fighting, sorry. a lot of plot and scattered corn with a p. light choking.  15,729 words

───── ❝ introduction❞ ─────

In the small town of Hawkins, Indiana, amidst the echoes of adventure and whatever we were told to believe was really going on in the mysteries of the lab, I navigated the familiar corridors of Hawkins High School with an air of quiet determination. Clad in the same hoodie I think i'd worn to school every other day this week I blended seamlessly into the background. The simple jumper embraces me, shielding me from both the chills of the hallways and enigmatic pull of the township.

Behind my glasses, my eyes observe the world around me with a mixture of curiosity and caution, silently analyzing the dynamics that play out around me. The crowds in the halls split into their cliques and leave me feeling left behind as the gather into their little groups and start chatting.

Billy, the embodiment of rebellion and unpredictable predictability, strides through the halls with a seemingly magnetic presence. His confidence and smoldering gaze are s stark contrast to the usually reserved demeanor of people in Hawkins. In his presence, I am simultaneously drawn to his charismatic energy and apprehensive of the unknown depths beneath his charismatic facade.

As I delve into my locker, mentally seeking solace, I find myself lost in thought. Attempting to unravel the mysteries of my own life. It is within these moments of quiet introspection that my thoughts of Billy begin to infiltrate my mind, disrupting the careful equilibrium i've cultivated.

Though our paths rarely intersect, our lives have briefly intertwined during multiple chance encounters, and although they usually resulted in tense exchanges and snarky comments, something stirred within me- A curiosity that transcended the boundaries of my studious world. As I peered past his tough exterior, I could catch a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes, a flicker of a troubled soul that yearned for understanding.

In Hawkins, where extraordinary occurrences seemed to intertwine with the mundane, I had managed to find myself cautiously navigating the uncharted territories of the heart.

As Billy swaggered into the bustling halls of Hawkins High, his eyes scanned the crowd for a potential target to amuse himself with.

As I stood by my locker, lost in my own thoughts, a sudden jolt shook me from my daydream. I stumbled forward, my belongings slipping from my grasp and clattering to the ground. It took me a moment to realize what had happened—Billy, the epitome of arrogance, had deliberately knocked into me.

Anger flared within me, and embarrassment tinged my cheeks. It seemed that Billy took delight in humiliating others for his own amusement. The laughter that escaped his lips only fueled my frustration, intensifying the need to show him that he couldn’t simply walk all over people.

I swiftly knelt down to gather my scattered books and papers, my mind seething with defiance. I refused to let his actions break my spirit. As I rose back to my feet, I met his gaze head-on, a fire burning in my eyes.

───── ❝ fight❞ ─────

"Billy, I can't help it notice your constant need for attention. It's like you thrive on pushing people's buttons and causing unnecessary drama."

His eyes narrowed, and a cocky smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. "Oh, sweetheart, just trying to keep things interesting. Can't have this boring town lull me to sleep now, can we?"

took a deep breathe, attempting to suppress the surge of anger that threatened to consume me. "You know, not everyone finds your reckless behaviour captivating. It's exhausting, Billy. It's one thing to be confident, but it's another to treat people like disposable playthings."

He leaned in, his voice dripping with dosain. "Well, maybe you're just too uptight, never willing to take a risk. You think you're better than everyone else don't you?"

My temper flared, and I met his gaze with unwavering intensity. "No, Billy, I don't think I'm better than anyone. But unlike you, I don't go around hurting others just to fill a void inside me. Maybe if you too a moment to look beyond your own ego, you'd see the damage you're causing."

Billy's expression hardened, his words laced with bitter edge. "You don't know a damn thing about me. You don't know what it's like to fight for every scrap of happiness in a messed-up world."

I shook my head, my voice filled with frustration. "And what about everyone else? Do their feelings not matter? Your actions have consequences, Billy. You can't keep treating people like collateral damage in your personal war."

He scoffed, his voice now full of derision. "Spare me the lecture, sweetheart. Not all of us can hide behind our books and pretend like we have it all figured out."

My patience waned, replaced by a resolute fire. "I don't pretend to have it all figured out, but at least I strive to be better. I won't stand idly by while you leave a trail of broken hearts, i highly suspect a lot of STDs and shattered friendships in your wake."

The tension between us was palpable, the air heavy with unspoken resentment. We stood at an impasse, our words and emotions colliding in a tempest of heated argument. It was a clash between two forces unwilling to yield, each defending their own perspective with unwavering determination. As the echoes of our confrontation reverberated through the halls of Hawkins High, the rest of the student body seemingly silent, a lingering animosity hanging in the air.

The hallway fell into a hushed silence as the door swung open, revealing Mr. Thompson, a stern and no-nonsense teacher known for his unwavering discipline. His eyes scanned the crowd, settling on Billy Hargrove and me, both still tinged with the remnants of our heated argument.

With a voice that brooked no dissent, Mr. Thompson spoke, his tone laced with disappointment. "Mr. Hargrove, Miss Y/N, I trust you are both aware of the disruption you caused with your altercation. Such behavior is not befitting of the students I know you are capable of being."

Billy leaned back against the metal locker, an air of defiance lingering around him. "Look, teach, she started it. She always acts like she's better than everyone else."

Mr. Thompson's gaze hardened, his stern expression unyielding. "I will not entertain excuses or attempts to shift blame, Mr. Hargrove. Both of you played a role in this unfortunate incident, and as such, you will face the consequences."

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of our actions pressing down upon us. I swallowed hard, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I apologize, Mr. Thompson. My behavior was out of line, and I take full responsibility for my part in the argument."

The teacher nodded, his tone firm yet fair. "Acknowledging your mistake is the first step, Miss Y/N. However, understanding the impact of your actions is equally important. Disruption within the school community undermines the learning environment for your fellow students."

Billy shot a defiant glare in Mr. Thompson's direction, but the teacher remained unfazed. "As for you, Mr. Hargrove, this is not the first time you have found yourself in a situation like this. It's time to recognize the consequences of your actions and learn from them."

The weight of Mr. Thompson's words settled upon us, the realization of our transgressions sinking in. We were about to face the repercussions of our heated argument— A lesson that would extend beyond the confines of the classroom unfortunately.

With a measured tone, Mr. Thompson concluded, "Both of you will serve detention after school today. It is an opportunity for reflection and understanding, a chance to contemplate the impact of your choices. I expect better from you both moving forward." As the halls emptied and the weight of our detention loomed.

───── ❝ detention❞ ─────

The detention room was heavy with unspoken tension, a sterile and somber space, its walls adorned with faded motivational posters. Billy Hargrove and I sat in stony silence, our gazes locked in a battle of wills. As we awaited the passage of time, a silence settled over us, broken only by the occasional creak of chairs, the heavy rain hitting the windows or distant footsteps in the hallway.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, I broke it with a voice sharpened by resentment. "You know, Billy, I never expected much from you, but I thought you would at least have the decency to apologize."

Billy's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing with a flicker of defiance. "Apologize? For what? Standing up for myself? Or for not letting you walk all over me with your self-righteous lectures? You’re the one that should be grovelling and begging for me to accept your apology."

The words stung, igniting a fire within me. "You think this is about me wanting to control you? It's not, Billy. It's about treating people with respect and recognizing the consequences of our actions."

He scoffed, his voice laced with bitter sarcasm. "Oh, spare me your moral high ground, sweetheart. You act like you've never made a mistake in your life."

My temper flared, my voice rising in defiance. "I never claimed to be perfect, Billy. But at least I try to learn from my mistakes. You, on the other hand, continue to hurt people without a second thought."

His eyes flashed with anger, his voice dripping with venom. "You think you know me? You think you understand a damn thing about what I've been through?"

The room crackled with the intensity of our confrontation, the boundaries between us growing sharper with every word. We were two opposing forces on a collision course, our anger fueling the flames of resentment.

"I may not know your entire story, Billy, but that doesn't excuse your actions," I retorted, my voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "Hurting others won't fix whatever pain you're carrying."

His gaze hardened, his voice a low growl. "You don't get to play therapist, Y/N. You don't get to pretend like you can fix me."

My heart raced, my fists clenched in frustration. "I never said that I have all the answers, but I refuse to let you continue down this destructive path without saying something. You're capable of so much more, Billy. But until you face the truth and acknowledge the pain you're causing, you'll remain trapped in this cycle of anger and hurt."

Silence enveloped us once again, the weight of our words hanging in the air. Anger still simmered beneath the surface, but a glimmer of vulnerability shone in Billy's eyes. It was a fleeting moment, easily masked by his hardened facade, but it was enough to sow a seed of doubt within me.

The storm outside was taking a treacherous turn. The distant rumble of thunder grew louder, and rain pounded against the windows with an unrelenting force.

Breaking the silence, my voice quivered with a mix of trepidation and sincerity. "Billy, I want to apologize for the things I said earlier. I let my anger get the best of me, and I didn't consider the pain you might be carrying."

Billy's guard softened, his gaze meeting mine with a flicker of surprise and appreciation. "I... I appreciate that, Y/N.”

There was a pause, a shared moment of introspection as we grappled with our own inner turmoil. I reached out tentatively, my hand finding Billy's, my touch a gentle reassurance amidst the remnants of our conflict.

"I've seen glimpses of a different person beneath your… tough exterior, Billy," I admitted, voice filled with genuine concern. "There's more to you than the asshole that parades himself around this school."

“Y/N, I-”

Suddenly, the shrill wail of sirens pierced the air, signaling an imminent danger—A tornado.

We exchanged startled glances, their previous animosity momentarily forgotten as the gravity of the situation sank in.

As the tornado siren blared its warning, panic gripped the halls of Hawkins High School. Remaining students and teachers scrambled to find shelter, seeking refuge in designated safe areas.

Their footsteps quickened, driven by the urgency to reach safety. My hand instinctively grasped the doorknob, twisting it desperately, only to be met with resistance. Billy stepped forward, trying to force the door open with all his might, but it remained stubbornly shut. We were trapped, confined within the detention room's four walls while the storm raged outside.

Frantic thoughts raced through my mind as the tornado siren continued its relentless call. Time seemed to stretch, each passing second intensifying our worry. We pounded on the door, our voices blending with the howling wind outside, hoping to catch the attention of someone who could free us from these confines.

But the chaos of the storm swallowed the cries, leaving us stranded in a place where punishment had transformed into something far more sinister.

Together, we faced the daunting prospect of weathering the storm from the confines of the detention room. The previous conflicts and animosity were pushed aside by the shared predicament we found themselves in. In this moment of vulnerability, I, overwhelmed by the situation, instinctively sought comfort and found solace in the proximity of Billy.

Trembling, I pressed closer to him, seeking refuge in his presence. Billy, taken aback by the vulnerability displayed before him, was unsure of how to respond. Awkwardly, he tentatively wrapped his arms around me, his touch uncertain yet gentle, trying to offer whatever comfort he could muster.

His voice, usually laced with defiance, softened as he spoke, "Hey, it's gonna be okay." His words held a glimmer of reassurance, though they were foreign on his tongue.

Finding solace in the sincerity behind his words, I nodded against his chest. The storm's fury continued to unleash its wrath, yet within the confines of his embrace, a bubble of comfort formed—a shelter against the chaos outside.

Despite his initial hesitation, Billy recognized the importance of providing support in his own way. He began to stroke Y/N's back with gentle motions, a silent gesture of solidarity.

"Sorry," I mumbled, my voice laced with embarrassment, as I gently pushed away from Billy's embrace. My cheeks flushed with a mix of emotions, and I hastily wiped my nose on the back of my hand, trying to regain composure. Avoiding his gaze, I looked down, my focus shifting to the ground beneath us.

Billy, ever the composed one, noticed my unease. With a gentle touch, he reached out and brushed off a speck of dust from his shirt, as if to show that the minor incident hadn't fazed him.

Billy took a seat on the floor, his back leaned against the door, his hands resting on his knees. A somber calmness settled over him as he watched the storm brewing just outside the windows. His gaze traced the dark clouds swirling in the sky, their ominous presence mirrored in the intensity of his eyes.

There was a sense of introspection about him, a contemplation that matched the turbulent energy of the storm. As the thunder rumbled and the rain battered against the windows, he seemed lost in thought, his thoughts perhaps wandering through the labyrinth of his own emotions.

I couldn't help but be drawn to his stillness, his silent observation of the chaos outside. His composed demeanor in the face of the tempest fascinated me, revealing a depth that extended beyond his tough exterior. In that moment, he seemed like an enigma, simultaneously a part of the storm and yet untouched by its fury.

Sitting beside him, I watched his profile, his features softened by the dim light that filtered through the darkened room. There was an air of melancholy around him, an unspoken weight that he carried. I yearned to understand the depths of his thoughts, to be the solace that anchored him amidst the storm.

───── ❝ the calm❞ ─────

As the storm raged outside, Billy and I found ourselves engaged in a conversation that embodied the essence of teenage banter.

Billy leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "If you could have any superpower, what would it be? And don't say something boring like 'the ability to study all night'."

I chuckled, playfully rolling my eyes at his remark. "Alright, impatient. If I had to pick, I'd go with telekinesis. Imagine the possibilities! No more reaching for the remote or dealing with heavy backpacks. I could be the ultimate multitasker."

He nodded, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Telekinesis, huh? That's a solid choice. I'd probably go with teleportation. Think about it—no more long commutes, instant travel to any corner of the world. Plus, I'd never be late for detention again."

As the thunder rumbled in the distance, Billy leaned closer, his tone filled with curiosity. "Alright, what's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you in school? Come on, I know you've got a good story."

I smirked, playfully nudging him. "Well, there was this one time in sophomore year when I accidentally walked into the boys' restroom. Needless to say, I made a hasty retreat."

Billy burst into laughter, his infectious mirth filling the room. "You sure know how to make an entrance, sweetheart."

As we continued swapping stories and playful jabs, the detention room transformed into a hub of energy, where we could momentarily forget our worries and simply enjoy each other's company.

A low, distant rumble of thunder echoed through the air, as if nature itself was growling in anticipation. The wind intensified, howling and gusting with an almost primal force. The trees bowed and thrashed, their branches caught in a frenzied dance, struggling against the impending tempest.

I watched in awe as the atmosphere transformed before my eyes. The sky, once a tranquil blue, now displayed a multitude of shades—shades of gray, indigo, and charcoal, swirling together in a chaotic symphony. The sun, now hidden behind a thick layer of swirling clouds, cast an eerie, ethereal glow over the landscape.

Bolts of lightning streaked across the darkened sky, illuminating the swirling mass of clouds with their electric brilliance. Each flash was followed by a deep, rumbling clap of thunder, reverberating through the air like the growl of a mighty beast. The sound seemed to vibrate within me, a reminder of the power and unpredictability of nature.

Raindrops fell, at first sporadic and gentle, then growing in intensity. They splattered against the windows, creating a distorted view of the world outside. The rain seemed to move in waves, driven by the ever-growing ferocity of the storm.

As the tornado formed in the distance, a funnel-shaped cloud descended from the heavens, its dark core swirling with an ominous intensity. It seemed like a monstrous entity, a force of nature unleashed, ready to wreak havoc upon the land.

As I watched the tornado continue to gather strength, my heart pounded with a mix of fear and fascination. The storm's fury was a stark reminder of our place in the universe, a humbling experience that left me in awe.

"Truth or dare?" Billy's voice cut through the air, pulling me away from my initial skepticism, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

I scoffed playfully, playing along with the game. "Dare," I replied, ready to accept whatever challenge he threw my way.

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in closer. "Draw something inappropriate on the whiteboard," he suggested, his voice laden with amusement.

I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress a smile, and reluctantly rose from the floor. Picking up a black marker, I uncapped it and sketched a crude representation of a penis on the whiteboard.

Rolling my eyes but unable to suppress a smile, I got up from the floor and reached for a black marker. With deliberate strokes, I crudely sketched a crude representation of a penis on the whiteboard. Billy's laughter filled the room, his teasing comment echoing in the air.

“It’s a bit small, don’t you think?” He jested, unable to contain his amusement.

Glancing at the drawing, I raise an eyebrow, a smirk forming on my lips. “Oh, really? Well, I suppose it’s yours then,” I retort, playfully taking a seat beside him, reveling in our shared banter.

Billy’s eyes widen momentarily before a mischievous smile dances on his lips. “Oh, sweetheart. It definitely is not,” he quips, the implication lingering in the air between us.

Interrupting his suggestive smile, I shift the focus back to the game. “Truth or dare?” I ask, deliberately ignoring his playful demeanor.

Billy ponders for a moment, his gaze meeting mine with a newfound curiosity. “Truth,” he finally decides, a tinge of vulnerability seeping into his voice.

With a casual shrug, I meet his request with nonchalance. “Tell me a secret,” I challenge, my curiosity piqued.

I see a flicker of contemplation in Billy’s eyes, a momentary vulnerability that captures my attention. “I… I think this game is stupid,” he confesses, his tone filled with a hint of reluctance.

A burst of laughter escapes me, and I playfully grumble, pouting as I lightly swat him with the back of my hand. “Come on, Hargrove,” I retort, a playful glint in my eyes. “That’s not a real secret,” I tease, finding joy in the lighthearted exchange between us.

"I love when you say my name," he confesses softly, his voice laced with sincerity.

I raise an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Billy is your name, not Hargrove," I remind him, a hint of mischief coloring my tone.

He closes his eyes, savoring the words as they linger in the air. Tilting his head back slightly, a contented sigh escapes his lips. "God, I love that," he admits, a faint smile playing on his features.

A mixture of curiosity and affection fills me as I gaze at him, captivated by the rare vulnerability that shines through. "Your own name?" I inquire, wanting to understand the depths of his feelings.

His smile grows wider, his eyes sparkling with a newfound lightness. It's a smile I've never witnessed before—a genuine expression that reaches his eyes. It's a departure from the usual smirks and cocky grins that often adorned his face.

With a teasing glint, he responds, "Only when you say it."

In that moment, the room feels charged with an unspoken connection—a mutual understanding that extends beyond words. Billy's admission reveals a layer of vulnerability, a longing to be seen and appreciated for who he truly is. And in return, I find myself drawn to the authenticity behind his smiles, cherishing this newfound glimpse into his soul.

As the tornado's fury rages outside, within the detention room, a tender understanding forms—a recognition that behind the tough exterior and troubled past, there is a person deserving of acceptance.

The air between us hums with unspoken emotions, the room fills with an electrifying tension. A charged atmosphere enveloping us, our eyes locked. There, in the midst of the detention room's confined space, a fleeting moment of clarity washed over me, and I couldn't resist the overwhelming urge to bridge the remaining distance between us.

Closing the gap, I reached out, my fingers gently cupping Billy's cheek. The room fell silent, the sounds of the storm outside fading into the background, as our hearts beat in unison. With a mixture of trepidation and longing, I pressed my lips against his, capturing the essence of that tender moment.

Time seemed to stand still as our mouths met, a fusion of uncertainty and desire intertwining in the embrace. The sensation was electric, igniting a fire that had smoldered beneath the surface for far too long. In that brief exchange, our souls spoke a language words couldn't convey.

Billy, initially surprised by the unexpected kiss, soon melted into it, responding with a passion that matched my own. His hands found their way to the small of my back, pulling me closer, deepening the connection.

When our lips finally parted, we remained locked in a breathless moment, our eyes lingering as if searching for something in the depths of each other's gaze. The storm's turmoil outside seemed distant, inconsequential compared to the whirlwind of emotions we experienced within that single, stolen kiss.

A radiant smile spread across Billy's face, a genuine expression that mirrored the warmth filling my own heart.

Our eyes remain locked, reflecting the fire that still burns within. It's a pivotal moment—an awakening of desires.

As the heat between us subsides slightly, I tentatively reach out, my hand trembling with anticipation, seeking to caress the contours of Billy's face. But just as my fingers brush against his skin, he gently catches my hand, his touch firm yet tender.

Time seems to suspend as Billy's eyes search mine, his grip on my hand a gentle yet deliberate restraint. The intensity of the moment is palpable, the unspoken words echoing between us.

My heart pounded in anticipation, and my breath hitched as I felt his gaze fixate on the sensitive curve of my neck.

A mixture of excitement and vulnerability coursed through me as Billy leaned in, his lips lightly grazing my skin. Each gentle kiss sent an electric jolt through my body, awakening every nerve ending. It was an exquisite torment, a sweet agony that left me yearning for more.

I shivered, surrendering to the intoxicating pleasure of his touch, as his lips continued to explore the contours of my neck. The warmth of his breath against my skin sent waves of desire cascading through me, intensifying with each tender press of his mouth.

The sensations overwhelmed me, causing a soft gasp to escape my lips. In that moment, I lost myself in the exquisite pleasure, my body responding to his every touch. It was a delicate dance of passion and vulnerability, a symphony of sensations that bound us together in an intimate connection.

Time seemed to stand still as Billy's kisses grew more impassioned, each one leaving a trail of desire in its wake. My senses were heightened, the world around us fading into insignificance. In that intimate exchange, I felt seen, cherished, and desired.

As I surrendered to the pleasure coursing through me, the room became a sanctuary—a place where worries and responsibilities dissolved, leaving only the intensity of our connection. Billy's lips on my neck were a testament to the depths of our desires intertwining.

Amidst the storm's raging chaos outside, our bodies entwined, the sweet caress of his kisses on my neck brought solace and an indescribable intimacy. It was a moment where the boundaries between us blurred, where our desires and emotions melded into one.

With a mix of strength and tenderness, Billy's arms wrapped around me, lifting me effortlessly off the ground. I gasped, caught off guard by his display of power and the rush of exhilaration that surged through me.

With purposeful steps, Billy carried me across the room, our bodies pressed close together. Gently, Billy set me down on top of a desk, our eyes locked in a fiery gaze. The smooth surface was cool against my skin, heightening my awareness of the intimate connection we were about to explore.

Billy stood before me, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and vulnerability. With a slight smirk playing on his lips, he reached for the buttons of his shirt, his fingers deftly undoing them one by one.

His hands paused momentarily, allowing me a moment to appreciate the sight before him. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his usual confidence shining through. With a deliberate slowness, he shrugged off the shirt, letting it fall to the ground, revealing his bare chest in all its glory.

Steady hand, he reached out, his fingers grazing the fabric of my shirt. His touch was gentle yet purposeful, tracing a path along my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. With a gentle yet determined pull, he started to lift the shirt upward, exposing the skin beneath.

───── ❝ the storm❞ ─────

As my shirt slipped off, a rush of vulnerability and desire washed over me. Billy's eyes traced the lines of my exposed flesh, a mixture of reverence and hunger in his gaze. His touch was both careful and passionate, his fingertips grazing my skin with an electric intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

His hand reaches up my throat, until it reaches my chin, grabbing and running his thumb over my full bottom lip. I part my lips, drawing his thumb into my mouth and sucking.

“Y/N,” he whispers, closing his eyes, his jaw clenching as he grinds his back teeth.

He pulls his thumb from my lips, his fingers flying to my jeans as he fumbles with the button and rips them from me.

His eyes fall to my underwear. “Okay” He rasps, his fingers rubbing through the material.

“Oh” I breathe, pushing my arms behind me and wrapping my fingers round the edge of the desk unit.

“Legs up,” He orders and I do as he says without thinking, widening my legs for him, his eyes falling between them. Swirling his fingertips over me, his spare hand moves up around my throat as he wraps his fingers there, holding me in position.

His fingers slip into the side of my panties, rubbing slowly before gliding his fingers through my parted lips and plunging two fingers deep inside of me.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

His fingers slip out of me, before tugging on his own pants, kicking them down his legs. “You clean?”

I nod, “Yeah, are you?”

“Haven’t been with anyone in a while, but yeah.” I feel shocked and confused by his admission, but don’t let him see it.

He strokes himself in long, slow strokes then pushes his thick tip at my tight opening. “You’re mine from this moment on, do you understand me?” He rasps, his eyes levelling with mine and I nod.

Billy’s voice resonates with authority and possessiveness as he utters those words, his intense gaze locked with mine. The weight of his declaration hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, my mind races with conflicting emotions. I want to surrender, to fully embrace this connection that has ignited between us, but a lingering trace of hesitation remains.

“Yours.” I whisper, my voice tinged with a mix of excitement and fear. My eyes roll in the back of my head as he slowly pushes his thick cock inside me, the burn caused by him stretching me taking my breath away.

“Y/N.” His grip around my throat tightens as he watches his cock slip in and out of me with ease. “Fuck, you feel so good.” His jaw is tight, his teeth gritted as he fucks me slowly.

“Billy.” I whisper moan, looking between us as his thick cock pulls to the tip, then slips straight back into me.

My heart races under my skin when my gaze lands on the classroom door, the school hallway lies quiet and still, devoid of the usual bustling energy that fills its space during the day. My eyes widen and Billy winks at me, smirking.

“Look at you” he moans, his thrusts speeding up. “You’re such a naughty girl, sweetheart.”

The pet name that so often bothered me now felt like a reward, slipping off his tongue it brings my orgasm close. I clench down, tightening around him.

“You like that, don’t you?”

I nod, mewling as his voice floats through me, his cock hitting that spot.

“I think you can take more,” he whispers, his head turning to the door then back to face me. “Do you?” he asks.

I nod eagerly, letting my eyes watch as he fucks me.

He smiles, looking down between us as he pulls his cock to his tip, then places two fingers at my opening, resting on top of his arousal coated cock.

Without warning, he pushes back into me, my mouth agape as my eyes roll in the back of my head.

“Fuck yes,” I pant. Uncurling my white knuckled fingers from the edge, I reach between my legs and rub my swollen clit.

Billy laughs a little, amusement evident in his voice. “You’re so greedy” he grits, as he fucks me harder,

My fingers rub faster, matching his thrusts into me. Billy grins at me, his eyes hooded as he slows his thrusts into me to a torturous pace.

“God” I rush out, ignoring the urge to moan out after that.

Billy continues at the slow pace for a moment then picks up the pace again, fucking me hard.

“Fuck,” I whisper, my eyes glassing as tears threaten, the pleasure ripping through me.

“Did anyone fuck you like this?” I see Billy’s veins bulging and throbbing at his question and I shake my head. “Good, no one will.” He grits, pulling his two fingers out. My orgasm teeters as he pushes his cock deep into me.

“I’m going to come,” I whisper, tears rolling down my cheek at this overwhelming fullness that I feel. I tilt my hips up so his long cock rubs on the spot I need.

I can no longer resist the magnetic pull drawing me toward him. With a mixture of hesitation and longing, I close the remaining distance between us, my lips pressing against his in a bold and passionate kiss.

His response is immediate, his arms encircling me, pulling me closer, as if he too craves this connection. The kiss deepens, becoming a fierce exchange of desire and emotion.

My eyes roll, my back arches and I come hard, my orgasm splintering me in two. I swear I see stars, my ears ringing as the relief swarms me.

“Such a good girl,” He chokes, fucking me in short, hard thrusts, “I’m going to come,” he whispers.

I pant, he pants, his face edging towards me in an electrifying instant, our lips collide in a passionate fusion. It’s a dance of fire and vulnerability, a symphony of sensations that overwhelm my senses.

Our kiss deepens, a mingling of passion and tenderness. It’s as if time suspends, leaving only the intensity of our shared moment. Our lips move in perfect harmony, fueled by a hunger

A symphony of moans escapes my parted lips, blending with the intoxicating atmosphere around us. I lose myself in the intoxicating taste of his mouth, surrendering to the whirlwind of emotions that swirl within me. In that moment, nothing else matters but the heat and urgency of our connection.

His touch is electric, his hands guiding me closer, holding me as if afraid to let go. Fingers tangle in my hair, creating an anchor in this storm of desire.

Each brush of his lips against mine sends waves of pleasure coursing through me.

───── ❝ fear ❞ ─────

The tornado emerges on the horizon as a monstrous force of nature, its destructive power evident in its towering funnel cloud. It's a swirling vortex of darkness, a tempest that devours everything in its path. The winds, furious and relentless, whip through the air, creating a deafening roar that reverberates through the surroundings.

As it approaches, the tornado leaves a trail of devastation in its wake. Trees are uprooted, their branches tossed like twigs in the ferocious gusts. Debris becomes airborne, propelled with alarming velocity, transforming everyday objects into deadly projectiles.

The sheer magnitude of the tornado is awe-inspiring and terrifying. Its darkness stretches towards the heavens, a menacing presence against the darkened sky. It seems to command the atmosphere, bending it to its will as it spirals relentlessly forward.

The swirling mass engulfs the landscape, obscuring visibility with a dense cloud of dust and debris. Its raw power is palpable, an unstoppable force of nature that demands respect and humility.

Inside the school, the building shudders under the onslaught of the approaching storm. The air pressure fluctuates, causing windows to rattle and doors to creak. The sounds of destruction outside are muffled by the solid structure, yet the vibrations serve as a chilling reminder of the chaos unfolding just beyond the walls.

As I cower with Billy, a sense of vulnerability washes over me. We cling to each other, seeking solace and protection in our shared fear. The tornado's proximity amplifies the urgency, the desperate need to find shelter and hold on to hope amidst the chaos.

Through the windows, I catch glimpses of the swirling mass, the dark tendrils reaching out like ominous fingers. It's a sight that commands both awe and terror, a stark reminder of the immense power of nature and our own fragility in its presence.

The tornado rages on, its path cutting through the land with merciless force. It serves as a testament to the indomitable forces of nature, leaving behind a trail of destruction that serves as a somber reminder of its might. In its wake, lives are upended, and the true strength of the human spirit is tested.

I can't help but succumb to a vulnerable admission. With trembling words and a sheepish tone, I confess my deepest fear. "I'm... scared," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words aloud would make the fear all the more real.

Billy's gaze softens, his eyes reflecting a mixture of understanding and concern.

"I know," he responds, his voice gentle yet filled with an unwavering determination. "It's alright to be scared."

His words offer a glimmer of comfort amidst the chaos. I find solace in the fact that I'm not alone.

As the tornado's howling winds continue to pummel the school, we huddle closer, seeking shelter in each other's embrace. Billy's arms envelop me, providing a sense of protection against the outside world. In the safety of his presence, I allow myself to lean on him, to release the weight of my fears.

The deafening roar of the tornado intensifies, its monstrous presence drawing ever closer, a surge of adrenaline courses through my veins. Despite our attempts to find comfort in each other's embrace, the fear within me intensifies, threatening to overwhelm my senses.

I can feel the vibrations reverberating through the walls, the tremors of the approaching storm rattling the very foundation of the school. The once-distant sounds of destruction now grow ominously near, a chilling reminder of the tornado's relentless pursuit.

The windows tremble under the assault of the wind, and shards of glass occasionally shatter, scattering across the floor like glistening fragments of chaos. The air becomes heavy with debris, carried on the gusts that infiltrate the building, serving as a grim testament to the tornado's destructive path.

In the midst of this swirling chaos, I cling tightly to Billy, seeking refuge in his presence. His strong arms provide a sense of security, anchoring me to the present moment, even as the world outside seems to be spiraling out of control.

The tornado's wrath looms just beyond the school walls, a relentless force that threatens to consume everything in its path. The air grows thick with anticipation, our breaths shallow, as if awaiting the inevitable impact.

In the face of this impending danger, Billy's grip tightens, his unwavering strength serving as an anchor amidst the storm. His gaze meets mine, his eyes filled with determination, and I draw strength from the unwavering resolve in his expression.

"We're going to make it through this," he assures me, his voice steady despite the chaos surrounding us. His words resonate deep within me, stirring a flicker of hope amidst the fear that threatens to consume me.

As the tornado's monstrous presence engulfs the school, we brace ourselves, both physically and emotionally. Time seems to slow, each second stretching into eternity as we steel ourselves for the impact.

Exhausted from the harrowing ordeal, our bodies intertwined as we succumb to the weariness that envelops us. The tumultuous events of the storm have taken their toll, and we drift into a deep, restless sleep.

───── ❝ hope ❞ ─────

As the hours pass, the storm finally subsides, its wrath replaced by an eerie calm. The once-fierce winds now whisper faintly outside, their power spent. Slowly, consciousness begins to stir within us, like emerging from a foggy dream.

Then, as the tempest finally subsides, we are abruptly awoken by a profound silence. The deafening roar of the tornado gives way to an eerie stillness, broken only by the distant sound of emergency sirens and the occasional creak of a damaged structure.

Opening our eyes, we survey our surroundings, a scene of devastation unfolding before us. The once-familiar corridors are now marred by broken walls, shattered windows, and debris scattered haphazardly across the floor.

It’s a surreal sight, the aftermath of nature’s wrath. Yet, amidst the chaos, there is a glimmer of hope. We’ve made it through the storm, emerging on the other side battered but alive.

With the shattered glass on the detention room door, Billy reaches through and deftly turns the handle from the other side. A glimmer of relief washes over us, knowing that we now have an exit from the confined space. Though the windows are broken and the path to safety is strewn with debris, we realize that any open window will suffice, as the glass practically no longer exists.

"Be careful," Billy instructs, his voice laced with concern as he surveys the scattered remnants across the hallway. Taking my hand in his, we proceed with caution, navigating through the remnants of the storm's aftermath. The floor is littered with shattered glass, fallen ceiling tiles, and splintered furniture, a visual testament to the chaos we've endured.

As we make our way through the treacherous path, a fireman catches sight of us and rushes towards us, his expression a mix of relief and urgency. "I FOUND SOMEONE!" he exclaims, his voice filled with a mixture of triumph and concern. With a reassuring hand, he guides us toward the front yard where other students and teachers who sought refuge in the cellar have gathered.

The paramedics swiftly approach, their trained eyes assessing our well-being. Billy reluctantly releases my hand as the paramedic begins to check on us, ensuring that we've escaped the storm's grasp unscathed. I stand alongside Billy, the weight of the harrowing experience settling in, as we wait to be examined.

In the midst of the chaos and the flurry of emergency responders, a sense of gratitude washes over me. We've emerged from the devastation, finding our way to safety against all odds. As the paramedic assesses our physical well-being, I steal a glance at Billy, our eyes meeting briefly.

"Y/N!" Steve Harrington rushes to my side after the paramedics give us the all-clear. His face is filled with relief and a touch of disbelief. "Dude, I definitely thought you were dead."

I offer a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Nope, just left for dead in detention."

Steve pulls me into a tight hug, a mixture of genuine concern and his signature humor. "I can't believe you almost died a virgin," he whispers, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he laughs to himself.

I feel a rush of embarrassment and look around, catching Billy's widened eyes. I see him trying to conceal his reaction, a flicker of annoyance briefly crossing his face.

"Steve!" I exclaim, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration tainting my tone. I shoot a quick glance at Billy, silently pleading for him to understand that Steve's comment was just typical Steve being Steve.

Steve, seemingly aware of the tension, quickly shifts his gaze to Billy, offering him a small smile. It's a gesture of acknowledgement and perhaps even an attempt at easing the tension in the moment.

Realizing that it's time to move on from the chaotic aftermath, Steve takes charge. "Come on," he says, gently guiding me away from the scene. Together, we leave Billy behind, the crowd engulfing him as friends and admirers gather to offer their support.

As we walk away, Steve's presence provides a sense of familiarity and comfort. His friendship, though at times unconventional, has become a pillar of support in the face of adversity. In this moment, his light-hearted banter serves as a reminder that we have survived, and life goes on.

"Hey guys," I halfheartedly greet Steve's friends, who have gradually accepted me as part of their group. They each offer their well wishes, making sure I'm okay before effortlessly transitioning into a different topic of conversation.

As I glance over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Billy, his smug demeanor fully intact as he revels in the attention he receives. It's not long before a girl eagerly throws herself at him, adding to the throng of admirers that surround him.

A pang of frustration tugs at my heart, a mix of envy and disappointment. Despite the connection we had forged amidst the chaos of the storm, it seems that Billy's attention is quickly diverted by others. I can't help but wonder if our momentary bond was merely a product of the circumstances, destined to fade away once the storm subsided.

I turn my attention back to Steve's friends, forcing a smile and engaging in their lighthearted banter. They provide a welcome distraction, reminding me that I have a support system of my own within this circle. Despite the lingering disappointment, I find ease in their genuine concern and acceptance.

Amidst the chatter and laughter, I take a deep breath, pushing aside the lingering thoughts of Billy's sudden shift in focus. I remind myself that friendships take time to develop and that everyone has their own journey. Perhaps Billy's actions are simply a reflection of his own insecurities, his need for validation in the wake of the storm.

Resolving to focus on my own path, I immerse myself in the conversation, allowing the warmth of friendship to wash over me. I appreciate the genuine connections I've formed with Steve's friends, knowing that their support will be a constant source of strength as we navigate the challenges that lie ahead.

While Billy may bask in the attention of others, I find comfort in the knowledge that true friendships are built on more than just fleeting moments. It's the shared experiences, the genuine support, and the unwavering presence in times of both joy and adversity that truly define the bonds we hold dear.

And so, I embrace the camaraderie of Steve's friends, grateful for their acceptance and friendship. As we continue to navigate the aftermath of the storm, I know that I have a place within this circle, even as the dynamics around us may shift. Together, we will face whatever comes our way, united in our resilience and the unwavering spirit of Hawkins.

───── ❝ unwilling ❞ ─────

"I don't really want to go," I sighed, sprawling out on Steve's couch. It had been a week since the storm wreaked havoc on our lives, and school was still on hold as they worked to repair and rebuild.

Steve, leaning against the armrest, nudged my feet off the couch. "Come on, it's a party. You're a teenager," he retorted, a playful glint in his eyes. "Besides, it's to celebrate you."

I let out a half-hearted groan, feeling a mix of reluctance and confusion. "It's to celebrate Billy Hargrove," I muttered, my voice laced with a hint of bitterness.

Steve rolled his eyes, sitting down next to me as he tied his shoe. He had never been a fan of Billy, and I knew I now had to act the same way. Deep down, buried beneath the layers of conflicting emotions, I couldn't deny that I carried feelings for Billy. Yet, it had been over a week since the storm, and he hadn't reached out or even acknowledged what had happened.

"You survived a whole eight-hour storm with him," Steve scoffed, a trace of admiration mixed with annoyance in his voice. "That deserves to be celebrated, whether you want to admit it or not."

"Alright, fine," I relented, sitting up on the couch and running a hand through my hair. "But I'm not going for Billy. I'm going for the people who supported me throughout it all, including you."

Steve flashed a smile, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "That's the spirit," he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Now, let's go show them how strong we are, and have a little fun in the process."

I mustered a smile, appreciating Steve's unwavering support. With a renewed sense of purpose, I agreed to join him at the party. It was at Carol Perkins' house, a name that didn't reveal much apart from the fact that Steve seemed genuinely excited about it.

Steve and I hopped into his car, ready for the short drive across town to the party. As we cruised through the familiar streets of Hawkins, the buzz of excitement filled the air. The music from nearby houses echoed through the night, drawing us closer to the vibrant scene that awaited us.

We arrived at our destination, parking amidst a sea of cars that lined the street. The house before us was aglow with colored lights, and laughter and voices carried on the breeze. The front yard was transformed into a lively gathering, with groups of people engaged in animated conversations, clutching red cups or puffing on cigarettes.

Steve and I stepped out of the car, joining the lively crowd that had gathered. The atmosphere was electric, with the mingling scents of alcohol and smoke hanging in the air. Music pulsed through the speakers, setting the rhythm for the night ahead.

"Hey!" Carol greeted with enthusiasm as Steve walked in, and I followed closely behind him.

"Hey," Steve smiled in response, his charm radiating as always.

Carol, as the host of the party, beamed at us, eager to ensure our enjoyment. "Let's get you two some drinks!" she exclaimed, leading us toward the bustling kitchen. As we navigated through the crowd, Carol exchanged greetings with people along the way, her presence captivating those around her.

Finally reaching the kitchen, my eyes caught sight of Billy, engaged in conversation with a girl as he casually sipped from his plastic cup. He exuded a confident demeanor, drawing attention effortlessly.

"It's the survivors!" the girl practically glued against Billy's chest exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across her face. She gestured between me and Billy. "What was it like? Being in the storm?"

I felt a lump form in my throat, momentarily taken aback by the directness of her question. The memories of the storm still lingered, the chaos and other things vivid in my mind. I swallowed, searching for the right words to convey our shared experience.

"Um," I hesitated, my voice betraying a mix of emotions. It was difficult to put into words what we had endured. The storm had brought us together in unexpected ways, and part of me was still grappling with the complex emotions that surfaced in its wake. "Oh, you know, it was a wild ride,"

Steve, offered a lighthearted smile. "But Y/N is here now, stronger than ever."

His words served as a gentle reminder that we had emerged from the storm with a newfound strength. It was a subtle redirection of the conversation, allowing us to navigate the topic with a touch of optimism.

The surrounding people’s attention shifted from me to Steve, intrigued by his playful response. As the conversation continued, I took a moment to collect myself, reminding myself that it was okay to feel a mix of emotions.

Taking a deep breath, I looked around the lively kitchen, the hum of laughter and music filling the air. Despite the lingering unease, there was a sense of camaraderie among the partygoers, united by the shared experience of surviving the storm. As the evening unfolded, I knew there would be more conversations, and more reflections. And as I raised my own plastic cup in a silent toast to resilience, I embraced the uncertainty of the night, ready to navigate the intricacies of the party at Carol’s house.

The girl turned her attention back to Billy, her flirtatious demeanor unwavering. "Babe," she cooed, her voice dripping with sugary sweetness, causing me to snap my attention back towards them. "I really like this song. Let's go dance."

Billy furrowed his eyebrows, a trace of annoyance flickering across his face as he took another sip of his drink. "I don't dance," he replied curtly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Undeterred, the girl forced a laugh, attempting to brush off his resistance. "Yes, you do," she insisted, her hand balling his shirt in a feeble attempt to pull him towards the dance floor.

In a moment of defiance, Billy swiftly pulled her hand off him, his gaze steely. "And I'm not your 'babe'. Fuck off," he snapped, his words dripping with a mixture of frustration and defiance.

A stunned silence fell between them, the girl taken aback by Billy's unexpected rejection. As she stumbled to find a response, I couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction.

I watched as Billy turned away from her, his attention shifting elsewhere. His eyes met mine briefly, a flicker of recognition passing between us as the girl retreated, nursing her bruised ego.

Steve threw his head back, a wide grin on his face as he finished his drink. "Do you want to play beer pong?" he asked, his excitement evident.

"I've never played, Steve," I admitted, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in my voice.

Steve's smile only grew wider as he responded, "No worries! We'll be a team. Tommy!" he called out, scanning the crowd. "Beer pong? Me and Y/N versus you and..."

Tommy Hagen, his cup in hand, made his way into the somewhat crowded kitchen, his eyes searching for the source of the invitation. "Hargrove," his tone carrying a hint of challenge.

"Yeah, sure," Billy agreed, casually throwing back the remainder of his drink. Without missing a beat, he headed towards the back yard, Tommy following closely behind.

Steve interlaced our fingers, ensuring we wouldn't be separated in the sea of people. Together, we slowly weaved through the partygoers, making our way to the table set up in the back yard. I watched as Tommy filled the plastic cups with alcohol, his movements fluid and precise.

Billy's gaze briefly flickered towards our intertwined hands, a subtle tension radiating from him. In a quick motion, he averted his eyes, unwilling to dwell on the sight.

As we joined the others at the beer pong table, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. The air was filled with a blend of anticipation and friendly competition as we prepared to face off against Tommy and Billy.

As the game commenced, laughter and cheers filled the air, mingling with the pulsating beat of the music. We threw ourselves into the game, reveling in the friendly banter and the thrill of each successful shot.

In the midst of the playful competition, I stole glances at Billy, our eyes occasionally meeting in brief, unguarded moments.

───── ❝ unwavering ❞ ─────

Steve and Tommy stood on the sidelines, their eyes fixed on the final ball I held in my hand. With determination in their voices, they offered words of encouragement. "You can do it!" Steve cheered, his voice filled with unwavering support.

But Billy, leaning casually against the table on the opposite end, couldn't resist taunting me. His laughter rang through the air as he dismissed my chances of success. "No, you can't," he taunted, his voice laced with playful arrogance. "Sweetheart, you're gonna miss it. Just give up and let me win this."

I took a deep breath, blocking out Billy's teasing remarks. With a focused gaze, I bounced the ping pong ball, sending it soaring through the air. Time seemed to slow down as it descended, its trajectory aligning perfectly with the last cup in front of Billy.

A moment of silence hung in the air, followed by a collective gasp from the onlookers. The ball found its mark, landing with precision and sinking into the cup. Tommy groaned in defeat, while Steve erupted into jubilant celebration.

In the midst of the commotion, Steve embraced me in a tight hug. As we basked in the victory, Steve's voice cut through the noise. "How's the normal teenage experience going?" he asked, a hint of mischief in his tone.

I shrug, a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I don't think I love parties, but this one is okay," I replied, my words carrying a sense of lightheartedness.

Steve guided me back inside, his hand resting on the small of my back, leading me away from the beer pong table and the lingering sight of Billy surrounded by his admirers. The pulsating energy of the party filled the air, as people mingled and conversations buzzed around us.

But before I could process it all, a girl stepped forward, a flirtatious smile playing on her lips. "Hey, Steve. You look really great tonight," she said, her fingers absently toying with the hem of her shirt.

Steve returned her smile, and I felt a twinge of discomfort at the sight. Not wanting to be a mere bystander in his flirtations, I decided to make my way to the kitchen, in search of a respite from the lively crowd.

As I stood by the sink, filling my cup with cool water, a voice interrupted my thoughts. "Hi, Y/N, right?" a boy asked, catching my attention.

I turned to face him, trying to place his face. "Yep, that's me," I replied, my voice friendly and polite.

“We had English together last year, remember?”

I racked my brain, desperately searching for any recollection of our past encounter. But the truth was, I drew a blank. "Oh! Yeah, totally," I replied, offering a quick smile and a small nod, hoping to mask my lack of memory.

"I think you're, like, really brave for managing to stay strong after what you went through," the boy remarked, taking a step closer to me.

I smiled appreciatively at his kind words, grateful for the acknowledgment. "Well, I wasn't alone,"

He chuckled, a warm sound that echoed in the lively atmosphere. "But you and Billy don't exactly get along," he observed, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I don't think I could have gotten out of that detention unscathed like you."

A soft laugh escaped my lips, a blend of amusement and understanding. "You never know, sometimes the people you least expect can surprise you," I mused, my gaze meeting his with a touch of optimism.

"So, you having fun?" he asked, a playful grin on his face.

I nodded "I was. It's been quite a night."

He chuckled, teasingly. "Steve ditch you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is he like your boyfriend now or something?"

I let out a laugh, shaking my head at the suggestion. "Ew, no," I replied, a touch of amusement in my tone. "Steve and I have been best friends since like Kindergarten."

Billy entered the kitchen, his gaze fixated on the boy I was engaged in conversation with. There was a subtle tension in the air as he approached us, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken challenge.

The boy in front of me joined in on the laughter, the sound filling the space between us. "So, there's no boyfriend then?" he inquired, curiosity glinting in his eyes.

Billy's presence beside me was palpable, his intense gaze fixed on the boy as he approached the sink next to me.

I shifted slightly, feeling the subtle brush of Billy’s arm against mine as he reached behind me to fill his cup with water. The proximity sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of excitement and trepidation coursing through me.

As I turned my attention back to the boy in front of me, I couldn't help but notice the curiosity gleaming in his eyes. His question lingered in the air, and I felt a playful smile tug at the corners of my lips.

"No," I replied, my voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Billy cleared his throat, drawing our attention to his presence as he leaned against the counter beside me. His piercing gaze locked onto the other boy, sizing him up with an intense scrutiny. He took a deliberate sip of his water, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

The boy, seemingly unfazed by Billy's imposing aura, mustered up the courage to ask, "Would you want to go out sometime then? With me?"

Caught off guard, I glanced around, feeling a slight twinge of awkwardness. The weight of the moment seemed to hang in the air, and I searched for the right words to respond. “Oh,” I stammered, my cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, maybe.”

As the words left my lips, I sensed a shift in the energy between Billy and me. A silent tension enveloped us, as if the unspoken connection we shared danced on the precipice of something more. Billy’s expression remained inscrutable, his gaze holding mine for a fleeting moment before he turned and walked away.

Left standing there, my attention returned to the boy in front of me, who seemed content with my response.

“Awesome,” the boy grinned, his excitement palpable. “So should I, like, call you?”

I offered a smile. “Obviously not right now, but I’ll see you around,” I replied, slowly starting to leave the kitchen.

But before I could make my way through the crowd, the boy took a few steps to follow me. His enthusiasm was endearing, but my mind was elsewhere. “Do you want to dance or anything?”

“No, I actually have to find Steve,” I explained, my voice barely audible above the pulsating music. “Make sure he isn’t passed out or whatever.”

As I turned to make my way back into the heart of the party, I found myself engulfed in a sea of people, the noise and energy enveloping me. It was then that I felt a hand brush past my waist, sending a shiver down my spine. A familiar breath tickled my ear, and I turned to find Billy standing there, his presence commanding my attention.

His words, laced with a mixture of intrigue and mischief, sent a jolt of excitement through me. “You excited for your little date?” he whispered, his voice filled with a hint of playfulness.

I could feel my heart race in response, a surge of conflicting emotions swirling within me.

With a playful smile, I leaned closer to Billy, allowing myself to be caught up in the electrifying atmosphere of the party. “I guess we’ll see,” I whispered back, my voice carrying a touch of mystery.

Billy’s hand wrapped around my wrist, his grip firm yet gentle. I held my breath, anticipation coursing through me as I waited for him to speak. “I thought I told you,”

Before Billy could utter another word, Steve’s voice cut through the noise of the party, calling out my name. The moment shattered as I turned my head in Steve’s direction, momentarily distracted by his presence.

Billy's jaw clenched, his eyes refusing to waver from mine as he released my wrist. A mixture of frustration and longing crossed his face, evident in the way he huffed and ran a hand through his hair. Without another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the swirling sea of partygoers.

Steve finally reached me, his presence providing a sense of grounding amidst the whirlwind of emotions. He took my hand, his touch comforting as he pulled me away from the chaotic scene. "I've been looking for you!" he exclaimed, a mixture of relief and concern in his voice. "Let's take a break and sit outside."

I allowed Steve to lead me towards the door, but my gaze kept turning back, trying to catch a glimpse of Billy amidst the crowd. There was a part of me that yearned for closure, for answers to the unspoken connection between us.

As we stepped outside, the noise of the party faded into the background, replaced by the soft breeze and the distant sound of music. Steve found a quiet spot, and we settled down, the weight of the evening's events settling upon us.

Even as I tried to focus on the present moment with Steve, my mind kept drifting back to Billy. I couldn't shake the feeling of unfinished business, the lingering questions that remained unanswered.

I found myself torn between the familiarity of Steve's friendship and the magnetic pull of Billy's enigmatic presence.

“How’s your night been?” I asked Steve, a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “What happened with that girl?”

Steve’s face lit up with excitement as he shared the news. “We’re going out tomorrow night!” he exclaimed, unable to contain his happiness.

I let out a dramatic sigh, teasing him gently. “Finally!” I exclaimed, feigning exasperation. “I thought you’d never make a move on anyone.”

Steve pouted playfully, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Hey now,” he protested, his tone mockingly hurt. “You’re the only girl my parents like. You’re stuck with me for life.”

“Yeah, I’m okay with that,” I replied, a playful smile curling on my lips. “As long as I’m not forced to be the next Mrs. Harrington.”

Steve chuckled, his eyes shining with affection. “I love you, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he teased. “The only way we’re ever getting married is if we’re both unhappy, stuck in Hawkins, and still single at the ripe old age of 35.”

We shared a lighthearted laugh, knowing that our futures held so much more than the small town we called home.

I gazed out at the street, the aftermath of the storm evident in the fallen trees and debris scattered along the pavement. The cool breeze brushed against my skin, providing a refreshing respite from the muffled sounds of the ongoing party.

Steve's voice broke through my reverie, his question drawing my attention. "You ready to go home?" he asked, concern lacing his words.

I tilted my head playfully, eyeing him. "Are you sober enough to drive?" I teased, knowing Steve's tendency to indulge in a drink or two during social gatherings.

A mischievous grin appeared on his face. "Do you need me to recite the alphabet backwards?" he retorted, a hint of mock seriousness in his tone.

Chuckling, I pushed myself up from the spot where I had been sitting. "I have to use the bathroom first," I informed him, gesturing towards the house. "I'll meet you at the car."

Steve nodded, his eyes following me as I made my way back inside. Finding my way through the lively crowd, I navigated towards the bathroom, grateful for a moment of solitude amidst the vibrant energy of the party.

I closed the bathroom door behind me, shutting out the chaos of the party, and I took a moment to collect myself. Placing my hands on either side of the sink, I leaned forward, my eyes fixed on my reflection in the mirror.

Taking a deep breath, I let the weight of the night wash over me. The exhilaration, the uncertainties, and the tantalizing possibilities that lay just beyond the horizon. With renewed determination, I straightened up and met my own gaze in the mirror.

I reached for the door handle, my hand poised to open it and rejoin the party outside. However, before I could grasp the handle, the door swung open, revealing Billy standing there, his expression filled with a mix of anger and frustration. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, effectively trapping us in the confined space of the bathroom.

My breath caught in my throat as I met his intense gaze. The air between us crackled with tension, and I could feel the weight of his words before he even spoke them. “I’m real fucking mad at you,” he stated firmly, his voice laced with a raw intensity. he reaches his hand forward, wrapping his fingers around the base of my throat.

“Why is that?” I challenged, my voice laced with a mixture of frustration and determination. My eyes blazed with heat as I locked onto his.

His response came as a whisper, yet it reverberated through the room. “I told you, you’re mine,” he declared, his voice filled with a mix of possessiveness and vulnerability. “Or did you forget?”

“Maybe,” I retorted, my voice filled with a mix of defiance and playful challenge. “Are you going to have to remind me?”

A mischievous grin danced across Billy’s lips, and he closed the distance between us, stepping towards me until my back was pressed against the cool surface of the kitchen sink. His proximity sent a thrill coursing through me, and my breath hitched in anticipation.

In that moment, the world around us faded into the background as his lips captured mine in a passionate and all-consuming kiss.

The intensity of his touch sent shivers down my spine, erasing any doubts or hesitations that lingered within me. Our lips moved in perfect synchrony, a dance of desire and longing.

As our kiss deepened, the outside world ceased to exist. There was only the heat of our connection, the intertwining of our breaths, and the shared exploration of unspoken desires. The sound of the party faded into a distant hum, drowned out by the rising tide of passion between us. I surrendered myself to the intoxicating pull of Billy’s touch. The heat of his lips against mine, the possessiveness of his embrace.

“Are you okay Y/N?” I hear Steve’s voice, his fingers knocking on the door.

I heard Steve’s voice outside the bathroom door, his concerned tone breaking through the haze of passion that enveloped me. Billy pulled back slightly, his body still pressed against mine, as he placed a few sloppy kisses along my jaw and collarbones. The sensation sent a shiver down my spine, heightening the desire that pulsed between us.

I struggled to compose myself, my voice slightly breathless as I responded to Steve, “Yeah, I’m okay! Just be a minute!” My words came out in a rushed whisper, my mind still clouded by the intensity of the moment.

“Okay, I’ll be in the car. Hurry up” Steve’s voice faded into the background as Billy suckles at the perfect tender spot on my skin and I moan softly.

Billy’s lips found their way back to mine, his kisses carrying a mix of urgency and longing. I couldn’t help but respond, my own desire intertwining with his, as our lips met in another passionate embrace

As I reluctantly pulled back from Billy’s intoxicating kiss, my mind momentarily drifted to the world outside our passionate bubble. “I have to go”

Billy groaned in response, his lips seeking mine once more as if pleading to continue. In that moment, I found myself succumbing to the allure of his touch, momentarily forgetting everything around me.

But reality had a way of sneaking back in, and I gently pushed against Billy’s chest, creating a small space between us. “Steve’s waiting,” I reminded him, my voice filled with a mixture of longing and apprehension. Steve’s name hung in the air like a fleeting reminder of responsibility.

A flicker of frustration danced across Billy’s face, but he quickly composed himself. His breath brushed against my skin as he muttered, “Don’t think about him when I’m touching you,” his words laced with desire and possessiveness. His lips found their way to my collarbones, planting a series of fervent kisses, igniting a fire within me that was hard to extinguish.

The sensations overwhelmed me, and for a moment, I was lost in the thought of what could happen tonight. But the knowledge that I couldn’t keep Steve waiting tugged at my conscience, and with a heavy sigh, I reluctantly disentangled myself from Billy’s embrace.

“I have to go,” I whispered, my voice filled with a mix of longing and regret. I brushed a strand of hair away from my face, my eyes locked with his for a fleeting moment, conveying the unspoken desire and unfinished emotions between us.

Billy nodded, his eyes holding a mix of longing and disappointment. With a final lingering kiss on my lips, he released me, allowing me to make my way back to the reality awaiting me outside the secluded space we had shared.

As I closed the bathroom door behind me, leaving Billy in the temporary sanctuary of our shared desires, I returned to the vibrant atmosphere of the party. The sounds of laughter and music filled the air, mingling with the fluttering butterflies in my stomach.

Outside, Steve awaited me in his car, his impatience evident as he drummed his hands on the steering wheel. I slid into the passenger seat, a small smile playing on my lips. "That took forever," he groaned, playfully expressing his frustration.

I rolled my eyes, a hint of amusement in my voice. "Oh, come on. It wasn't that long."

He chuckled, shaking his head in mock exasperation. With a twist of the ignition, the car roared to life, carrying us away from the lingering echoes of the party. The drive back to his house was filled with comfortable silence.

As the familiar sights of Hawkins passed by, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and uncertainty. The memory of Billy's touch still lingered. But for now, as Steve maneuvered through the familiar streets, I leaned back in my seat, allowing the cool night air to brush against my skin.

As we approached Steve's house, I couldn't help but steal a glance at the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of my reflection. The spark in my eyes, the trace of a smile on my lips, and the memories of the stolen moments with Billy were reminders of the whirlwind that had enveloped me.

As we stepped out of the car and made our way into Steve's house, a heavy sigh escaped his lips, drawing my attention to my best friend. Concern etched across my face, I reached out to him. "What's up?" I inquired, my voice filled with genuine curiosity.

Steve's shoulders slumped, his gaze fixed on the ground. "I feel like an asshole," he admitted, his voice laced with self-blame.

Surprised by his confession, I searched his eyes for answers. "Why?" I questioned gently, hoping to understand his turmoil.

"When the sirens went off, I didn't even think about you," Steve confessed, his words heavy with regret. "We got to the cellar and locked the doors. Nobody noticed you and Billy were gone."

I listened attentively, a mix of understanding and compassion flooding my heart. I reached out, gently placing my hand on his arm. "Steve, it's okay. We lived," I reassured him, my voice filled with reassurance.

His eyes met mine, a glimmer of sadness reflecting in their depths. "And if you didn't? Y/N, I can't imagine a world without you," he confessed, his voice choked with emotion. "Seriously, if they had pulled out your body, I'd..."

I placed a comforting hand on his cheek, my touch meant to convey understanding. "Billy actually protected me," I interrupted softly, wanting to ease his guilt. "He made sure I was okay. We talked and slept through most of the storm."

Steve's eyes widened in surprise, his expression a mix of relief and concern. "I wish I could have been there with you," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine regret.

Squeezing his hand gently, I offered him a small smile. "It's okay, Steve," I reassured him, my words filled with sincerity. "You couldn't have known what would happen."

Steve nodded, a mix of gratitude and sadness in his eyes.

───── ❝ unknown ❞ ─────

Steve parked the car in front of my house, and we both sat there for a moment, a mixture of excitement and nerves filling the air. He turned to look at me from the driver’s seat, his eyes searching for reassurance.

"Are you sure this shirt isn't ugly?" he asked, a hint of insecurity in his voice.

I couldn't help but gasp in surprise. "I brought you that shirt," I exclaimed, remembering the day we went shopping together and stumbled upon that particular piece.

He didn't say anything, just stared at me with a mix of gratitude and surprise.

"No, Steve," I reassured him. "You look great. Go enjoy your date. Just make sure she doesn't realize how much of a dumbass you can be sometimes."

A smile played on his lips as he nodded. "I'll call you later."

"I don't need the details," I teased, rolling my eyes playfully.

He waved goodbye and drove off, leaving me standing in front of my house wearing one of Steve's old shirts and a pair of shorts. I watched as his car disappeared down the street, feeling a mix of happiness for him and a tinge of loneliness.

Just then, the sound of a car engine caught my attention. I turned and saw Billy parking his blue Camaro a few houses away. My heart skipped a beat as I watched him step out of the car, his presence commanding attention.

I took a deep breath, adjusting my borrowed shirt, and made my way towards him.

“Hey,” I greeted Billy as I approached him, a mix of anticipation and nervousness swirling inside me.

"You weren't here last night," he observed, his eyes scanning me for any signs of explanation.

"No," I replied, raising an eyebrow. "I stayed at Steve's."

Billy's expression flickered, a hint of surprise and something else I couldn't quite decipher. He glanced away momentarily before meeting my gaze again.

"Steve's, huh?" he remarked, his tone laced with a hint of skepticism.

I shrugged, not wanting to delve into the details. "Yeah, we just hung out, talked, and watched some movies. Nothing special."

Billy's eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, as if searching for something beneath the surface. He seemed torn between curiosity and restraint, his usual guarded demeanor wavering.

"Well," he finally said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Guess I'll have to make up for lost time then." A playful glint danced in Billy's eyes as he asked, "Are you going to invite me inside, or do I have to settle for fucking you in my car?"

I smirked, enjoying Billy's playful challenge. "Well, if you're offering, I wouldn't mind the car," I replied with a teasing glint in my eyes.

Billy raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Is that so?" he responded, stepping closer to me.

Before I could respond, he leaned in, capturing my lips in a searing kiss. The intensity of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, igniting a fire that had been smoldering between us

As the kiss deepened, I could feel the hunger and desire building between us, a magnetic force pulling us closer together. The touch of his lips against mine was both passionate and tender, a perfect balance of raw emotion and restrained longing.

Eventually, we pulled apart, our breaths mingling in the air. Billy's eyes bore into mine, his gaze filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability. It was a silent invitation, an unspoken question hanging between us.

I smiled, the answer clear in my eyes. "Why don't we take this inside?" I suggested, my voice filled with anticipation.

Billy nodded, his grip tightening around his keys. "Lead the way," he murmured, a newfound excitement dancing in his eyes.

As I entered the house, Billy followed closely behind, the anticipation between us growing with each passing moment. I called out, hoping nobody would be home to answer. The absence of any response confirmed that we were alone, adding an extra layer of excitement to the air. “I guess it’s just us”

“Good” Billy responded quickly, pressing me against the wall, a surge of heat coursed through my veins, intensifying the desire between us. His hands explored my body with a hunger that mirrored my own, igniting a fiery passion that consumed us both.

Our lips met in a desperate kiss, a collision of lips and tongues that spoke volumes of the untamed desire we shared. Each touch, each caress sent electric shocks through my body, awakening every nerve ending. I melted into his embrace, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations that enveloped us.

Billy’s touch was both gentle and possessive, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns along my skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. The heat between us grew, fueling an insatiable hunger that seemed to consume us entirely.

As our bodies moved in sync, the rhythm of our desires matched perfectly. Moans and whispers filled the air, mingling with the sound of our racing hearts.

"Where's your bedroom?" Billy asked between kisses, his voice husky with desire.

"It's right over..." I started to respond, but my words were interrupted by a yelp as he effortlessly picked me up, his strength evident. The excitement in his eyes only intensified my own anticipation.

"Tell me," he demanded, his voice laced with a mix of command and desire.

I quickly directed him to my room, my heart racing as we made our way there. The anticipation grew with every step, each one bringing us closer to the privacy we both craved.

As we entered the room, Billy wasted no time in locking the door, ensuring that we were completely alone in our intimate space. The click of the lock echoed through the room, sealing us away from the outside world.

He gently placed me down on the bed, his touch sending sparks of electricity through my body. The hunger in his eyes mirrored my own.

“You makes my heart thump, my cock hard and my mind dirty. The things I want to do to you should be considered a sin.” Billy mumbled, his gaze fixed on me as I lay on my bed. His words caused a warmth to spread across my cheeks, a blush that betrayed the mix of emotions swirling within me.

Billy shifted his position, his body now hovering above mine, his strength carefully balanced to ensure he didn’t overwhelm me with his weight. As he settled into this new position, his hand gently traced the curve of my bottom lip, his touch eliciting a shiver that ran down my spine.

His gaze locked with mine, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness. The touch of his hand on my lip was both electrifying and gentle, a delicate cares.. His fingers traced the outline, as if memorizing every contour, every detail, igniting a fiery longing within me. I felt my breath hitch in anticipation, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

“I want you, right now” I whisper, my lips hovering over his as I grabs the hem of Steve’s shirt, “but I need to get this off.” Billy nods. It’s bad enough I’m about to fuck my best friend’s enemy again, but I don’t want to fuck him with his clothes on.

I lift the large shirt over my head, discarding it to the floor and he dives forward, lips on my neck as he licks, kisses and sucks on my soft skin. My hands are in his hair, pulling his lips from her skin so I can sink my lips over his in a slow, torturous kiss before I pull on my bottom lip with my teeth.

Billy moves away from me, pulling at the string of the shorts and tugging them down my legs. My hands find his broad shoulders as I sit up and balance herself, removing one foot at a time. Billy throws them to the side before his eyes glide up my body, taking every inch of me in until his eyes finally land on mine. My eyes fluttering as I blink, chest rising and falling fast.

Billy tugs my legs forward so i’m sat on the edge of my mattress before pushing his lips against my inner thigh, trailing soft kisses against my hot skin.

“Y/N” He whispers, looking up at me through his lashes, “You’re mine.”

I cant help but nod my head, shallow pants leaving me.

“Good,” He groans, lifting his lips and pressing them on my other thigh, hooking a long finger in the side of the scrap of material and pull it to the side, exposing me. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, I watch him fall back on his knees as he reaches for me with his other hand and pushes my lips apart, sucking in a breath through his teeth.

“Billy,” I whisper, as he lifts my leg and place it over his shoulder, then tap my inner thigh of my left leg asking for me to spread out a little.

“Remember what I said before the storm?” He let his eyes find mine. “I said I like it when you say my name. Now sweetheart, I want you to show me how good my name sounds coming off your tongue whilst you cum on mine.”

“Fuck,” I whisper, as he swipes his tongue through my parted lips, flicking it against my clit then gliding it down, swirling and teasing before his back on the clit, sucking and nibbling. His fingers dig into my sensitive skin, spare hand skimming up to my bare stomach and holding me in place to stop my wriggling.

He buries his tongue deeper, trailing a hand to my other thigh and lift it over his left shoulder, then grip to my waist as he holds me where he wants me.

Slowly grazing his fingers under her ass, he lets them trail down behind me and tease at her opening, edging the tip of two fingers into my soaked pussy which causes my hips to buck forward, as his tongue laps across my sensitive area.

“Oh, Billy,” I pant, fingers finding his hair as I tug at the root, pushing him deeper.

Edging a little further into me, I feel him curl his fingers as he rubs my g-spot then slowly begin pumping in and out, matching the strokes of his tongue.

“Please Billy, I need more,” I begs, and he lifts his mouth from me, so he can look at me, fingers still fucking me.

“Then come,” He smirks, throwing a wink at me as he lurches forward and sinks his tongue between my lips again, sucking on my clit.

Billy teases with a third fingertip causing me to whimper as he slowly slips it in. I constrict around his fingers, pelvis tilting up slightly, giving him better access.

“I knew you were greedy,” He whispers between tongue strokes.

“Billy,” I moans, feeling him tilt his head to the side slightly and press his tongue flat against my clit “Shit,” I cry.

“Are you going to come for me?” His fingers fuck faster, harder.

“Yes, so fucking hard,” I cry again, fingers knot in his hair. I clench tightly as I grind down on his fingers, hips rocking back and forth slowly and I start to lose control.

I screams his name, pleasure lacing my voice. I feel Billy slide his tongue to her opening, lapping up as the wetness coats his fingers. He pulls away, watching as his fingers continue to fuck me, arousal coats his hand, a few drips running down his wrist and he smirks up at me.

“Enjoying this, sweetheart?” He asks in a raspy tone as he slowly moves my legs down and they tremble in his tight grip. I nod slowly, hazy from the orgasm that ripped through me. I reach between her legs and starts swirling my fingers over my clit.

He keeps his eyes focused on my pussy but just as I gets into it, I make myself stop, reaching for his hand and slipping his fingers out. I lifts them to my lips and sucks the three of them clean whilst keeping my eyes pinned on his. “Oh fuck,” Billy moans as pleasure ripples through him.

I grab his chin, fingers tight as I grips, and pulls him to my feet. Billy towers over me, causing my hand to drop.

“Now it’s my turn,” My fingers run under the waistband of his jeans, then hungrily tug them down his toned thighs. I feel my eyes widen, glazing with delight as I looks from his cock to his face, and smiles.

“I want you to take all of me,” Billy grips a fistful of my hair, tipping my head back so she has no option now but to look at him. “Do you understand? Every, single, inch of me.”

I nods eagerly, licking my lips.

“Good” He croons, stepping forwards as he pulls me towards him. My hands wrap around his girthy length as I purse my lips at his tip. My tongue swipes across, licking the precum away then hollowing my cheeks as I take him to the back of my throat. My body lurches forward as I gag, slipping me from her mouth. “Take it slow…”

I hear Billy choke on his own breath as I push my mouth down my cock, stilling when I get to the base and this time, I don’t gag.

“Shit,” He sucks in a harsh breath, and I slip him in and out of my mouth then twirls my tongue at his tip, I flatten my tongue and run it down the underside of his cock.

“Y/N,” Billy grits out, head tipping back as he grabs a bigger fistful of her hair, mouth slipping down his. “I’m going to explode,” He moans, moving my head up and down, teeth gently grazing along the sensitive skin. I pull him from my mouth, then spits on him. Rubbing my thumb over the tip of his dick. “Fuck. Open your mouth.”

I do as he says, sitting on my knees, eyes on him as, waiting with open mouth. I watch as Billy fists himself, keeping eyes locked on me.

His jaw clenches, head falling forward as pleasure consumes him. I just kneel up, taking him in my mouth as he wraps a hand around the back of my head, holding me there as he gently fucks my mouth. Saliva runs down my chin, my moans pushing Billy to continue.

“I’m going to come,” He grits, hips thrusting fast, cock slipping in and out of my mouth sloppily.

His eyes roll in the back of his head as I suck the life from him, lurching forward spurting down the back of my throat.

“Fuck!” He roars, a shiver blankets him causing him to shudder. I fall back, wiping the corner of her mouth before standing. Pulling me her towards him, Billy wraps his arms around me. We just stand for a while, completely forgetting where we are, just lost in this moment.

And in the aftermath, as our breaths mingled and our bodies trembled with the intensity of our shared release, we lay intertwined, our hearts still racing in the aftermath of our fiery encounter.

───── ❝ exposition ❞ ─────



School returned to its normal routine a week later, and during that time, Billy and I hadn’t crossed paths. The absence of his presence left a lingering sense of anticipation and curiosity within me.

Walking through the familiar hallways, I couldn’t help but steal glances, searching for that familiar mop of dark hair, those piercing blue eyes that had ignited a fire within me.

Billy sauntered into the hallways, his presence commanding attention as his eyes locked with mine. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. However, before I could fully revel in that moment, my view of Billy was interrupted by the boy from the party, who had approached me.

“Hey, Y/N, how are you?” he greeted, trying to engage in conversation.

I offered a polite smile, my mind still lingering on the enigmatic boy who had captured my attention. “Um, fine,” I replied, trying to keep my focus on the present as I opened my locker.

The boy seemed eager, perhaps misinterpreting my friendliness. “I was a little nervous to call, so I was hoping we could just go for dinner and a movie tonight after school.”

I hesitated, my thoughts momentarily shifting to the secret moments I had shared with Billy, the secret connection that still lingered.

“Oh, sorry,” I began, my voice gentle yet firm, “but I’m actually not interested.”

His expression faltered, a mix of surprise and disappointment evident on his face. I felt a pang of guilt, understanding that I had inadvertently led him on.

“But you…” he started, his voice tinged with frustration as he reached out and grabbed my arm.

“Please don’t touch me,” I firmly requested, pulling my arm away from his grasp. It was a clear boundary that needed to be set, a reminder that my consent and personal space were to be respected.

I could feel Billy’s gaze on me as I shut my locker, determined to create distance between myself and the boy who had approached me. With a resolute stride, I made my way down the hall and into an empty classroom, seeking solace in the familiar walls and quiet atmosphere. I sat on a desk near the front, my eyes fixed on the door, silently hoping that Billy would follow.

A minute later, the door cracked open, and I held my breath as Billy slipped inside. There was a mixture of curiosity and concern in his eyes, as if he had sensed something amiss and was now seeking answers.

Without uttering a word, I gestured for him to join me. He closed the door behind him, the sound of it sealing us off from the outside world.

Billy took a few tentative steps toward me, his expression filled with an unspoken question. I met his gaze, my eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions, a mix of uncertainty and longing.

Billy positioned his hands on either side of me. I could feel his touch, his fingers lightly brushing against my thighs, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Yours,” I whispered, my voice barely audible in the intimate space between us.

A smug smirk danced on Billy’s lips as he leaned in, closing the distance between us. Our lips met in a passionate kiss, a merging of desire. His hands explored my body, tracing tantalizing paths, leaving a trail of electrifying sensations in their wake.

But just as the intensity between us reached its peak, the sound of the bell echoed through the classroom, signaling the end of our stolen moment. With reluctance, Billy pulled away, his eyes locked with mine, both of us left craving more.

“We’ll continue this later,” he murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of promise and frustration.

Copyright © 2023 Altitude. All rights reserved.

[elliewill]

A FOOL'S GAME | PT II

/ part i /

summary: ellie can't let you go. you meet again, nursing hopes of one day loving each other the way you used to. warnings: language, heartbreak/making up, more angst word count: 2.4k credits: divider, gif (cant find!), proofreaders (edie, saz) ♡ taglist: @kaorussgf @just-consume-it @elliesquerida @dyk3ification a/n: written w/self control by frank ocean (ellie)/ i want you by mitski (r) in mind

"Shit," she huffed as her eyes flew open, her heart hammering out of her chest. Ellie had been grasping at her sheets, helplessly reaching for you.  "Y/N?"

But you were never there.

It wasn't a nightmare about Joel this time. Or about Dina. It was about you. You were so close in her dream. Your lips, your skin, your voice. She had to savor it. It almost felt fucking real. But to Ellie’s disappointment, it never was. It was just another sleepless night, after you stormed out all those months ago. And it made her fucking sick to her stomach. What had it been, the fourth time? The fifth night in a row this month? She'd wake up so often in the night, praying somehow you'd be there, that she lost count.

A quiet guilt was eating her alive, the shame festering like roaches in her veins. Her nights were consumed with war, and she knelt to her defeat every time. She was no noble soldier; she surrendered herself to a punishment she felt that she deserved. Ellie chewed on the same, painful mistakes and memories until her jaw ached. And when she was done, she’d chew on them again. Watching Joel take his last breaths, ignoring Dina as she begged her to stay…and letting you, the only person she had left, walk away. She’d lay in bed and stare at the paneled ceiling as her mind carried her away, sometimes wondering if she was even really there.

After the dismal realization that you weren’t laying beside her, she shot up and threw her covers off, a rotten feeling seeping into the pit of her stomach. Was there a way to have kept you from leaving? Was there a way to keep herself from imploding? No. Nothing would’ve made you stay and Ellie knew it. You hadn’t spoken to her in months, there was no hope. Was there really much left unsaid? Ellie pushed herself off of her bed and donned her sweats, boots, and winter coat anyway.

The morning wind tossed around strands of her auburn hair as she stepped out into the biting cold. Little puffs of visible breath left her lips as she made her way to you, the snow crunching underneath her and her mind absolutely blank.

She didn't show face around Jackson anymore unless it was to eat or fulfill her duties. Even then, Maria knew well enough to not pair you both up for anything anymore. Apparently, the screaming from inside Ellie's house wasn't as contained as you both thought it was that night.

"Y'all are explosive and it ain't healthy. Leave that girl alone."

Ellie could already hear Maria's grating voice and southern drawl warning her to stay away from you, warning her to stop sneaking glances of you on stables or leaving for patrol on your horse. But that was the only way she could love you - from a distance. God knows it was half-way impossible to get you alone. You avoided her like the fuckin' plague, ironically enough. And the worst part was that she just couldn't blame you. She knew how badly she fucked up.

At some point, Ellie had gotten Maria to ease up to arrange an early morning patrol for the two of you. But aside from the "all clear"s and "infected on your 3"s, the trip was silent and cordial. You made sure to never make eye contact, lest you crumble under the overwhelming urge to ask her how she was. It seemed like every time Ellie mustered the courage to say something, her breath left her as she watched the moment slip through her fingers. She hated herself for it. So much so, that the dreams had gotten worse.

Not far along the dimly lit path, there was your door. She stepped up on your porch to knock before quickly tucking her pink and frozen hands into her jacket pockets. Only a few moments later, a warm glow flickered on through the windows. The door flew open with a balmy wave of heat that hit Ellie where she stood. There you were. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and catching your breath as the bitter winter wind hit you through the door left ajar.

Your freckle-faced girl stood before you, rings around her eyes and her hair, a bedheaded half-updo.

A subtle panic rushed across your expression and you suddenly didn’t know what to do with your hands. Your legs felt like beams of lead, gluing you to that spot on the wooden floor. And you ached to throw your arms around her. To hold her, to curse her out, to confess that your door had always been open. That you’d secretly always made sure her side of the bed was ready to be laid in.

She looked like she hadn't slept in days. If she hadn’t been sleeping well, she probably wasn’t eating well either. You could feel the guilt begin to eat at you. The shame pricked sweat along your neck and under your arms.  Maybe you should’ve never left. It was clear now, she always needed you. And you weren’t there.

But you remained frozen, the yellow light glowing around your silhouette, almost angelically.  "What are you doing here?" you hoarsely asked, furrowing your eyebrows and hopelessly trying to mask the shock that paralyzed you moments ago. “It’s 3am, Ellie."

For Ellie, there was something surreal about finally hearing your voice again. She’d wake up from dreams, aching for it to have been real. For you to have called her name.  Even if it was to curse her out again. She needed to keep this conversation going, even if to hear your voice for a little while.

"Sorry. I know it's late," Ellie muttered, avoiding the shock in your eyes. Something about catching your gaze made her feel transparent, naked. Almost like you could always see right through her. "There was so much I wanted to say when I saw you on patrol. But I never got to."

 Something sour jumped in your chest. You felt needed, wanted. Ellie was coming to you to open up, like she used to. Maybe this time she wouldn’t let you down. And could almost feel the world crumbling around you again. Part of you didn't want to see her again and she knew it. You couldn’t look at her without being reminded of what she had said to you. The things she had done in the bed you shared. As much as you fucking loved her.

"What else is there left to say?" you asked wistfully, pained by the hope that rose in your heart despite the harsh memory of her betrayal. You shook your head at her, as you warred against your thoughts. Were you willing to go through with this? All over again?

"There’s so much I need to explain," Ellie swallowed her pride, and finally caught your eyes, sending a shock through her spine. "I just couldn't get you alone, and I needed to-"

"You needed to what, El? There’s nothing left to explain. It’s done," you firmly reminded her. You might have sounded confident, but you had never felt more unsure in your life. Maybe this time could be different? Maybe Ellie had figured some things out while you had been apart? 

Ellie's ears burned up in the stinging cold, a pathetic, hopeless feeling filling her chest as you spoke. You spoke with finality, and it crushed her. In the months you had been apart, she had hoped this entire time that you had still been nursing your soft spot for her somehow. And she was right, you were. But you’d never embarrass yourself by foolishly wearing your heart so openly on your sleeve again.

You looked at her intently, waiting for her to say something else. Hoping, even. Maybe things had finally changed.

No dice. She looked back at you, speechless. 

Maybe it really was done, like you said. But Ellie had always championed the art of drawing you back in, just to push you away, so you began to wonder why you had ever expected anything more. You walked away before, and you weren’t afraid to do it again. So you picked up your legs, no longer feeling like lead, and turned to walk back into the comforting heat of your home. But before you could fully turn, you felt Ellie’s freezing cold hand find its way to your skin. 

"Please just hear me out? Please," she finally asked, catching your hand and gently tugging you back toward her. She had spent the last few months hating herself for letting you walk away. She couldn’t bring herself to watch you leave again.

God, you hadn't felt her touch for months. You might have hated her for what she did, but you couldn't deny how good it felt to have her fingertips graze your skin again.

You toyed with the idea in your mind. You'd hear her out and she'd get her word in. You'd get the closure and sincere apology you need and she'd learn from her mistakes. And then what? You'd be friends? Maybe strangers. But you were shit at convincing yourself that you’d be okay with never truly knowing her again. So you relented. One last time.

"Listen, I care about you. I do. I worry my ass off about you, even after what you did. But we can’t keep doing this. It fuckin’ hurts, Ellie," you uttered, your tough facade faltering. You stepped back from the threshold to allow her in. “So this is it.”

Ellie trailed inside, nervously wringing her cold hands as you closed the door behind her. As much as she had done you wrong, an urge to tell her to make herself comfortable bubbled up. But instead of asking her if she was hungry, you remained in an unfamiliar silence as you walked over to sit on your couch. Had you two already become strangers? No, you knew her too well. You had a feeling that you knew all the things she’d say and how the conversation would go. It was just a matter of getting it over with.

You patiently watched as Ellie unzipped and hung her winter jacket on the same hook she always used to. Second from the right. 

“Do you mind if I sit?”

Yes, of course she could. But you shrugged indifferently. You were sure it’d be a matter of time before all of this developed into an argument anyway. She wouldn’t be sitting for long.

She came over to your sofa and took the seat closest to you, leaving only a few inches of space between your criss-crossed legs and the side of her baggy hoodie. It seemed like she was looking everywhere but you again, while her hands fiddled with the fraying seams of your favorite grey sweater of hers. 

You quietly waited for her to speak, the silence beginning to make you anxious. She looked like she’d been working up the nerve to say something important, but you lowered your expectations. 

“You were my best friend, Y/N,” she said softly, slowly nodding as the inner corner of her eyebrows turned up. “You were my best friend, and I loved you. I still love you.”

And you loved her too. It felt so sweet to know. It was a familiar, warm feeling, too inviting if you weren’t careful. You never did stop loving her. And that had been the worst pain you had carried since walking out that night. 

You followed her wistful gaze to the dusty stack of DVDs against the dark wood of the coffee table. Those were movies you promised each other you’d watch together, but never got the chance to. You refused to touch them since. Strange how life works.

“That doesn’t change anything, Ellie,” you gently protested, shifting your eyes from the DVDs to Ellie’s distant gaze. You resisted the strongest urge to take her fidgety fingers and interlock them with yours. To tell her that it was okay. And that if she loved you hard enough maybe you’d be able to forget the past. You nearly gave in, almost hushing the nagging feeling that always asked you why you felt the need to comfort those who have hurt you.

“It doesn’t,” she somberly replied. She shook her head with a half-frown tight on her lips. “But that shit doesn’t just go away. And I want to fix this. I need to.”

She looked toward you, her eyes fixed on yours. Pleading with you.

“Then tell me what to do, El. Tell me. Cause I gave up a long time ago,” you admitted, your expression melancholy, little lines appearing between your eyebrows. “I used to try so fuckin’ hard. I don’t think I have anything left to give anymore.”

“Look, I want you to be happy, Y/N,” Ellie responded, running a hand along her thigh as her knee began to bounce anxiously. “And I’ve been trying so hard to be the person that wishes you well even if it's not with me. But the truth is that I’m not. I don’t think I’ll ever be. I will never be okay seeing you happy with someone else. And maybe considering what I did, that makes me selfish. I dunno anymore, I just…”

Her eyes ran over your features before she turned away. This time, while absentmindedly peering at the foggy window, her hand came up to rub the back of her neck sheepishly.

Sure, she was selfish. But you were too. For what other reason did you let her back in? Why were you stoking her hopes of this ever getting better? To feel wanted by her again? Loved? You choked on the words stuck in your throat and could only let a defeated sigh escape from your lips.

“I have dreams about it. About you. And I can’t fucking sleep,” Ellie whispered dejectedly, her brows low and pinched together. She glanced down at her wringing hands before meeting your eyes again. “Just… please don’t fucking give up on me.” 

“What if I say yes? And we try again? And you haven’t changed? Am I supposed to wait for it all to fall apart again?” You asked earnestly.

“I wouldn’t let that happen again.”

“I get it. Sometimes, I hold out hope too. That we’d be endgame. That someday I’d forget how it felt to convince myself that it was supposed to be you,” you lamented.“God, you have no idea how bad I wanted it to be you."

[eerrratt]

Hey!! Look!! It's Joe!!!

[kierancaz]

Soo I saw that you were looking for some writing inspiration/requests and I was wondering if you would be interested in writing a Thorin x Reader fic where Reader is part of the company and both of them really admire each other but are too afraid to admit it at first and before they confess their feelings there's some sort of miscommunication?

This just came to my mind and I hope it could inspire you a little :)

hey !! thanks so much for requesting something !! I tired my best but I have not written for Thorin before so sorry if he's a little ooc haha. Also sorry this took so damn long I kept starting and stopping and also screwed up my sleep schedule and then 3 days in a row kept getting stomach aches and just couldn’t write more than three lines T_T. If it feels inconsistent or confusing I’m sorry I got lost in the sauce and COULDN’T FIGURE OUT WHAT I WAS DOING but I hope you enjoy anyway :)

warnings : none details : reader is human, marriage plot that isn’t super important besides like ^^ the request

pre-post edit: I just went back and read the request again and this might not actually be what you asked for so uh, I’m sorry, but I’m gonna post this anyway bc well it’s written but if you don’t like it lmk and I will try again :)

𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

It was safe to stay that Thorin was not the happiest camper when you joined the company, but he couldn't deny that you intrigued him a bit. Only a little though, you must understand.

You had joined the company a fair bit later, when they were stopped by the tolls. You had arrived just before Gandalf and saw the group tied up. You were going to ignore them and just carry on your way, after all it wasn't any of your business. But watching the little hobbit try and stall for time while none of the dwarves caught on was amusing enough for you to lend your aid. You had a talent for sneaking around, you made no noise when you walked, had no scent you left behind, and with little effort could blend into any environment.

You crept up onto the rock behind where the group of dwarves was tied and dug around in your bag until you pulled out a mirror. The sun was coming up and just peaking over the rock that the trolls had been staying behind. Laying down flat you brought the mirror in front of yourself and moved it until it caught the sunlight and began to reflect it. You bounce it around for a moment, attempting to get a good angle. Finally, you hit the troll standing farthest away right in the face, there was a small noise it made but it was cut off by it's mouth turning to stone. Quickly its head and shoulders and chest also turned to stone.

"Huh, you say something?" The one troll that had been talking to the hobbit said as he turned around along with the other one that was standing over by the fire. They both gasped and the one that had been talking to the hobbit rounded on the little guy again, "what did you little ferret do?!"

"Ferret?" The hobbit stuttered for a moment, doing his best to hop away but fell on his butt. "N-Nothing, I- we didn't do anything."

"Why you little-" The troll made to grab the hobbit but you quickly adjusted your mirror and light been to hit the troll on the side of the head. It started to turn to stone and in an attempt to stop it the troll reached up to block the light but only managed to turn his hand to stone. The other troll shrieked in terror.

"The dawn will take you all!" Cried someone from atop the bolder with a booming voice. A second later he slammed his staff down and the bolder cracked in two, letting the sunlight pour through. All the trolls turned quickly to stone and the dwarves set quickly to setting themselves free. You slid back down the bolder and pocketed your mirror. For some reason, you didn't immediately leave.

"I think we owe someone our thanks." Said a older white haired dwarf as he walked up to you. Gandalf followed him.

"Y/n, fancy running into you here, though I can't say I'm upset." The old wizard smiled at you. You smiled back at him.

"Good to see you too, Gandalf." You turned and offered a bow to the old dwarf and "the name's Y/n, at your service."

The old dwarf smiled, he seemed very pleased with your politeness, and bowed back, "Balin, at yours."

"Is this the company you mentioned Gandalf?" You asked turning back to your old friend.

"What do you know of this company?" Came a rumbling deep voice from your left. You hadn't realized that someone else had joined you. His arms were crossed and judging by the slight crease in his brows he was not very happy.

"Ah- well," you cleared your throat and looked to Gandalf for help but he offered none. "You must be Thorin," you bowed the same as you did for Balin. "I know of your journey, Gandalf told me." Yes, blame the old wizard, that's fine.

Thorin turned to Gandalf with a glare, silently demanding an explanation from him. Gandalf cleared his throat and shifted his weight on his feet slightly, "I first asked Y/n to be our burglar, however she refused me."

"I had family business to attend to at the time." You said and Thorin turned his glare onto you, you stiffened slightly and suddenly wished you didn't say anything at all.

"What are you doing here now?" Thorin asked.

"Well... I was looking for you guys. I figured if I followed your road I'd come across you eventually."

"Why?" Thorin was not looking very pleased. You felt small under his stare and began to fiddle with your hands.

"I was hoping that, well, you may have room for another walker in your company?" Your expression changed into something unsure as you shrugged your shoulders. All Thorin did was stare and you glanced at Gandalf for help.

"She can be of use Thorin, she's very quiet this one, great for sneaking around." Gandalf nodded his staff towards you.

"She also did just save our skins." Added Balin and you were very grateful he had not walked off.

Thorin thought for a moment, but it felt like en eternity. He eyed you up and down before turning away and beginning to walk off. "Fine. But don't slow us down. If you do you'll get left behind."

You've been traveling with the company since then. So far you've made very good friends with everyone but particularly Fili, Kili, Balin and Bilbo. Over time you've also begun to greatly admire the leader of this company, Thorin.

You couldn't deny that you thought he was attractive, you had thought that from the moment you met him. But it was more than just looks you liked about him, you admired how much he cared for his people, his sense of duty to bring them back to their home in Erebor. He carries such a huge burden all on his own and is able to do it with grace and dignity, you understood a little of what that meant, though on a much smaller scale. He was brave and even though he was a king he was always first to throw himself into a fight to protect those around him. And even though he seemed cold on the surface it's very obvious that he cares for all his companions and would do whatever it took to make sure they were safe.

"Watcha lookin' at?" You jumped, Kili had his face right next to yours leaning over your shoulder. He laughed and sat on the rock next to you with his back facing the fire, you smack his arm.

"How long were you there?" You grumbled.

"Oh I don't know, long enough to notice you staring dreamily off at my uncle." He clasped his hands together out in front of him and bat his eyelashes at you in a teasing manner before bursting out laughing like someone told the most hysterical joke known to man.

"I was not! I was just thinking and I zoned out..."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say." Kili said once he stopped laughing. "You know you're so obvious right? Everyone sees it."

"Sees what?" You asked with a raised eyebrow and Kili rolled his eyes.

"That you're in love with him!" Kili hit you on the shoulder. "I think it's a good thing personally, Thorin needs someone like you. Someone fun who can lighten his mood, he's always so stoic these days, believe it or not he used to be fun."

"I'm not in love with him." You said and put your chin in your hands, your mood had soured and Kili didn't understand why. "I'm due to be married."

Oh. Oh. Thorin stopped listening.

He had realized you're staring a while ago. He thought, or maybe hoped, that you where staring at him, but it seems you really where just zoned out and didn't realize you where looking in his direction. He started paying attention more when Kili wandered over and tuned in when the two of you started talking. But now he didn't want to listen, you were probably going to go on talking about whoever it is that you're going to be married to and he didn't want to hear it.

"You ok there laddie?" Balin asked appear at his side.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" And it came out a little more snappy than he would've liked.

"No particular reason, just looked like you were staring off into space. But by your tone it sounds like something is on your mind?" Thorin thought for a moment before deciding he shook his head.

"I'm going for a walk." Was what he settled on and he got up and left.

"You what?!" Kili said in shock. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said. Once I go back home I am to be wed."

"You don't sound very happy about it..."

"I'm not." You said. "I don't want to marry him."

"Then why are you?" Kili sounded almost mad. You furrowed your eyebrows at him.

"Because I have to Kili. I'm the oldest in my family and with our dad dead I have to be the one to bring in money somehow. There aren't many jobs for women where I am and this guy has enough money to keep my family off the streets and well fed. The reason I decided to seek out this company and join the adventure is because this is the last one I'll be able to go on..." Kili was silent.

Suddenly he shot up on his feet and rounded the rock to stand in front of you. "Thorin is a king. We are going to reclaim our home that is filled with mountains of gold. Tell Thorin you love him and then you can be happy and save your family! It's as simple as that!"

"Thorin is a king. It's not as simple as that."

Kili was making that face he does when he's confused and upset. Eyebrows creased together, pouting, and over all looking like a sad puppy dog. "Get up," he said and tugged roughly on your arm to pull you to your feet.

"What are you doing?!" You half shouted at him as you tried to pry yourself free. "Let me go you lunatic!"

"I'm looking for my uncle." He said and you froze for a second before beginning to fight him again. "He deserves to be happy and so do you, all it takes is for you to admit your feelings to him."

"How do you know that's all it takes?" You snapped and stopped struggling for a moment. "How do you know he thinks of me in the same way I think of him?"

You were every serious, Kili however was not and was looking at you like you had just said the stupidest thing he had ever heard. He sighed exasperatedly, your face crumpled in confusion. "Where is he? Do you see, Thorin?"

You took a look around the fire, "um, no, I don't."

Thorin was walking through the woods, he could still see the campfire and hear the voices of everyone so he wasn't far if anything went wrong, but he was far enough that he couldn't properly see any of the individual figures. You had a fiancé? You were going to be married. Thorin didn't know how to describe how he was feeling in this moment. Upset? Mad? Disappointed? Perhaps blindsided was the word, but how could just being blindsided by this information be enough to make him feel this bad. Why did he even care so much?

Well actually he knew why he cared so much. It probably had something to do with that intense warmth that spread throughout him whenever he looked at you. That tightening in his chest whenever you smiled, even if it wasn't at him.

He had noticed a while back the way he was beginning to think of you, but he shoved it down. Hid it away in fear that it would start to interfere with this quest. He needed to make a conscious effort to treat you the same as everyone else. But he still always caught himself wondering if you were tired and needed to rest, if you were warm at night, if you had enough to eat or drink. After a battle or after running away from orcs he always made it a point to check on you personally and he couldn't relax until he did so.

When you first met he thought you were attractive. Just a passing acknowledgement that, for a human, you were nice to look at. But over time, after seeing the way you would blend with the others in conversation, how even though you were the best fighter you still valued the others safety and were willing to put yourself at risk, how much Fili and Kili liked you. You were so kind and unassuming and you always offered to help.

One thing that stood out to Thorin, and that he especially admired about you, was that you stood up to him. It might sound weird, but he liked that you questioned him, and when you thought he was wrong you pointed it out. It didn't happen often, but when you did say he was wrong about something you were usually right. You argued with him when no one else did and somehow he thought that was very attractive of you.

He let out a long sigh and rubbed his temples, all of this thinking was useless. And also making him feel worse, like the hole in his chest was growing. The laughing from around the fire tuned him fully back into his surroundings and with one last look around (so he could at least say he was checking the parameter) he started to head back to camp. As he exited the trees and came back into the little clearing he heard the sound of his nephew.

"Aha! There he is!" Looking to his left Thorin saw Kili and he was pulling you with him. Well, not so much pulling as he was dragging, you were tripping over your own feet with every step and looked about ready to fall.

Kili then yanked you forward, practically throwing you into Thorin with a grin on his face that Thorin just knew meant that Kili knew something he didn't. Thorin reached out and caught you before you could face plant. "Kili, what's going on?" You scoffed as you stood up straighter and brushed yourself off, you had a very sour look on your face that just made Thorin more confused and slightly concerned.

"Y/n has something to talk to you about." He said and winked before running off to go whisper about something with his brother. There was a long stretch of silence and it was very quickly becoming awkward.

Thorin cleared his throat, "there's something you wanted to talk to me about?"

You jumped slightly, Thorin was standing there, hands clasped behind his back and face as un-telling as ever. You chuckled, "oh, uh, it's nothing really. Not that important or anything, you know Kili this is just one of his- uh- things..."

Thorin just grunted in response and turned away. You probably could've used this opportunity to run away but for some reason you didn't. There was another long silence, the two of you just standing next to each other and looking at the rest of the company sitting around the fire. At some point you saw Gandalf look over at you two and when he looked away you could've sworn there was a knowing smile on his face.

"I hear you're getting married once you return home after the journey." Thorin said suddenly.

"What?" You said whirling to face him, "how do you know about that?"

"I over heard you and Kili talking about it." He answered simply and without looking at you. You creased your brows before turning back to look at the company and the fire. Thorin glanced at you, "whoever he is, he's a lucky man."

"And I an unlucky woman." You said with a huff. "I don't want to marry him."

"Oh? Why not?" Thorin asked and turned to you.

"Why? Well for one he is the most arrogant self righteous man I have ever met. He thinks he's the gods gift to man and that everyone he interacts with owes him something. The only reason I even agreed to this arrangement with him is because if I don't my family will lose everything. I much rather marry-- someone else."

After your rant Thorin was feeling significantly lighter. He caught your stutter at the end and the side of his mouth corked up. "Y/n, what was it Kili wanted you to tell me?"

You turned to look at him, eyes wide, but were comforted by the smile on his face. "Well," you said looking up and away to avoid eye contact and clasping your hands in front of you. "Kili wants me to tell you that I'm in love with you. And I am, in love with you I mean."

Thorin chuckled and you peaked back at him, he had a soft smile on his face. "Maybe you're not as unlucky as you thought armâlimê.”

You opened your mouth like you were going to say something, but then what he said seemed to register. You paused and then looked over at him, “what did you just call me?”

He smiled at you softly and took your hand and looked down at it as he spoke, “we can figure out what to do about your family’s situation after the quest, I trust it won’t be to hard to find a solution then.”

Silently your hand tightened around his, touched by what he had said. “And just for the record,” he added looking up into your eyes, “I love you too.”

From a little ways away, over by the fire, you could hear whispered cheers and groans, and the clink of coins being exchanged. You looked over and Kili grinned back, shooting you a thumbs up and you couldn’t help but laugh feelings as light as air and happier than you ever have before.

[nanograms]

Sometimes I forget that I named myself Rat and then I get this gem of a conversation on Obey Me Nightbringer with Barbatos.