DIVINE VIOLENCE

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[kaynothanks]

KILLER QUEEN

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Maneater!Reader

Summary: Despite Billy's relentless pursuit of you, you continuously shoot him down. And well, Billy Hargrove has always liked a challenge.

Requested by @monkeyyellowsunshine (i had this in my drafts and the stranger things teaser reminded me this existed even tho i started writing this probably two years ago haha)

Warnings: smut, mdni 18+, misogyny, violence, mean!reader, drinking, p in v, oral (f! receiving), lowkey a little dubcon, reader has red-dyed hair, no use of y/n, reverse misogyny (we love), angst, Billy does have a soft side, fluff, he's got that big dick energy, jealous!billy, hair pulling, fingering, pining, lil' bit of a cat-and-mouse game, it's so toxic i can't even⏤

Word-Count: 24k (i swear i just don't know how to write short fics)

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Your eyes rolled to the back of your head in exasperation, moan dying on your tongue as the male above you changed his pace for the tenth time—rudely ripping away the specks of an incoming orgasm. For a moment longer, you remained silent, your eyes flickering across his face, taking in the scrunch of his face. Huffing, you pushed upward with a grunt, shoving his lean body underneath yours. Touching him with merely your fingertips—careful to avoid the cooling sticky sweat glistening on his chest—you took hold of the bed’s headboard, rocking forward in deep, steady thrusts, chasing the high that he had obliviously edged away from you. At least you tried, until you felt the male shutter beneath you, a small groan tumbling from his lips. You stilled when he softened within you, blinking down at the guy and his blissful expression.

What the fuck?

What a fucking waste of time. You slipped off him, falling down onto the bouncing mattress beside him with a sour look on your face, perfectly shaped brows—thank you, Tina—dipping low.

The guy had looked so promising at the mall, with chocolatey curls and a sinful glint in his eyes that had you thinking he must have somewhat experience with picking up girls.

Picking them up? Yes, perhaps. Making them actually fucking orgasm? Big fat no on that front.

When his breathing slowed and his eyes slowly began to flutter open, he turned to you with a questioning look in his eyes. “Do you want me to finish you off?”

Your eyes flickered to him once more. Yeah, no. You could do without carpet burn on your flaps and your insides getting skewered like a shish kebab.

Instead of accepting, you sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed, gathering the clothes strewn about. “Actually, I gotta go.” Clasping your bra shut, you hurriedly pulled your shirt over your head, shimmying your pants over your ass. “You can drive me to the roller rink, though.”

“Sure thing, babe.”

You scrunched up your nose at the nickname, remaining silent as you zipped up your maroon boots and fluffed out your hair. “Let’s go,” you said, swinging your purse over your shoulder, the reddish leather matching the one on your feet.

“Already?” he asked, stretching his arms out with a tired yawn. “Don’t you wanna, like, stay a little? Get a bit of a cuddle in, maybe?”

“I would,” you said—over your dead body—sighing in false frustration as you gifted him a pitiful look. “Gotta meet my friends, though.” Before he could say anything else, you told him you would wait for him at his car and turned on your heel. You wanted to go home and take a shower and scrub off whatever dirt was now clinging to your skin, but the thought of a greasy burger and cheesy fries made your stomach grumble.

Plopping down in the passenger seat of the old Ford, you opened the visor, eyeing yourself in the small dusty mirror. Fixing the black smudges beneath your eyes, you re-applied the berry-colored lipstick, tapping whatever residue was left on your fingers onto your cheeks.

The drive to the roller ink was quiet—thank fuck—with merely a radio station playing softly in the background. Your head was turned to the right, watching as you passed through familiar neighborhoods that all looked eerily similar. Simple houses with chipping paint, head-dried lawns and colored minivans in the driveways. Welcome to suburbia.

The moment the car rolled to a stop in front of the roller rink—you weren’t even certain if it had fully stopped—you shoved the car door open. “Bye, Peter.”

“Patrick,” he corrected, a frown sliding onto his face as he stared after your retreating form.

“Right, sorry,” you said, closing the door behind you. “See you around.” When you took note of the car not departing, you quickened your steps, concerned that Patrick would actually follow you and demand your telephone number.

Inside the lowly lit establishment, you greeted the familiar clerk with a wave of your hand, heading straight for one of the booths surrounding the rink. You stopped in front of the booth with your friends, eyeing the only free spot right across from Tina and beside Billy—who gave no indication that he planned to move over.

A sly grin was directed toward you, before he cocked his head and patted one of his beefy thighs. “Got room for you right here, Cherry Baby.”

You rolled your eyes. “Scoot.”

He did no such thing, merely making a show of spreading his legs wider, resting his left arm on the back of the booth with a shit-eating grin.

Huffing, you slapped his arm. “Scoot over, you nitwit.”

He laughed, deep and throaty, making space for you to sit down beside him. “You’re always so harsh, Cherry Baby,” he grinned with a wink, leaning in and lowering his voice, breath tickling your neck. “I like it.”

You eyed him, raising a brow at the cocky smirk before wordlessly turning your head away, giving your attention to Tina, who had taken a lock of your hair between her fingers.

“Love the touch-up,” she mused and sighed. “I should get my hair dyed, too. What’s that color called again?”

“Dark red,” you answered bluntly, taking the burger and fries Billy was pushing in your direction with a small thanks.

“Geez,” Tommy chuckled at the sour expression on your face. “What crawled up your ass and died?”

Rolling your eyes, you plopped off the top bun, your hand instinctively reaching out to pluck the three little pickled cucumbers off, only to find none there. Your eyes flitted to Billy for just a moment. You always forgot to order your food without them, though apparently he didn’t.

Tina shot Tommy a glare before turning back to you, her fingers retreating from toying with your hair. “Ignore him, Cherry, he’s being mean because Carol wouldn’t take him back this time.”

Tommy scoffed, unfazed by the jab. “Never wanted her back anyway.”

You and Tina shared a look, knowing that by Monday morning Tommy and Carol would be back together as though nothing had happened, dry humping each other at their lockers for everyone else to see.

“Anyway,” Tina started, dipping her fries into a wad of ketchup. “You were late, what were you doing?”

Tommy chimed in. “She means who were you doing?” Extending your leg beneath the table, you delivered a sharp kick to his shin in reply, which had him hissing out his next laugh. “Judging by that and that frown on your face, he wasn’t very satisfying.”

“Tommy, I swear to God, shut your mouth or I’ll tell Carol what happened with Nicole last May,” you threatened, watching as the corners of his mouth dropped within seconds. He mumbled something about you not being able to take a joke before getting up under the pretense of getting another round of milkshakes.

“Serves him right,” Tina giggled, eyes flickering to Billy once in a while, who had taken to frowning at you—no doubt since your prior activities were mentioned. You paid him no mind. “I need Care to take him back, like, yesterday. He’s got such a big mouth when she lets him off the leash, I actually can’t deal with him anymore. He needs to, like, take a chill pill or something.”

“Totally,” you hummed, more interested in dissecting your fries than waste another moment talking about the mess that was Tommy and Carol’s relationship. For the past few months—ever since Carol had seen Tommy drunkenly making out with another girl at a party—the only topic of conversation had been them.

Tina, saying she was going to powder her nose really quickly, stood and disappeared, leaving you alone with Billy.

Noticing him still staring at you, your gaze landed back on the male beside you, looking awfully pleased with… himself or whatever. “What?” You huffed pointedly, taking the tall glass of chocolate milkshake that was resting between his fingers, bringing the straw to your own lips.

Billy watched you, a smirk stretching on his lips, clearly amused by your irritation. “That bad, huh?” His voice was laced with a mix of curiosity and something else—something closer to satisfaction. Instead of answering and giving him what you knew he wanted to hear, you simply hummed and dipped your fry into his milkshake.

Billy leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he eyed you through the thickness of his lashes. “Sounds to me like you need someone who actually knows what they’re doing.” He let the suggestion hang in the air, his eyes never leaving yours.

You rolled your eyes, snorting dismissively. “And you’re volunteering? Please.”

He chuckled, undeterred by your sarcasm. “I’m just saying, Cherry Baby, how many times do you have to strike out before you realize you’ve been playing in the minor leagues.” He leaned back, casually draping his arm back across the back of the booth, just barely—but obviously purposefully—brushing your shoulder.

Your gaze wandered back to his, catching the gleam in his eyes. Billy had always been relentless, never missing his chance to flirt with you, no matter how many times you shot him down. Perhaps it was the frustration still buzzing in your veins that made you want to squirm beneath his hungry blue eyes, getting under your skin when he usually wouldn’t.

Instead of giving in, you leaned forward with a sultry lick of your lips, tasting salt and chocolate as you placed your palm on his thigh. His grin widened as you came so terribly close the tips of your noses were almost brushing. “Big talk for a guy who couldn’t get it up last time,” you shot back then, your tone sharp and teasing, knowing the comment would get under his skin like nothing else. You pulled back instantly, watching closely as his grin became rigid, a flash of annoyance crossing his blue orbs.

“Stop with that fucking rumor, Cherry. You know better,” he warned, poking you playfully in the side, making your squirm away as you let out a surprised laugh.

You wrinkled your nose at him, trying to stifle your giggles as he continued to poke at your side. “That rumor’s been making the rounds, though. Heard it being confirmed from a few different girls, in fact.” You knew, of course, that the rumor was just that—high school gossip that Vicki Carmichael had spread when Billy had refused to take her virginity at the New Year’s party. You had been there to see her running out of the bustling house with tears streaming down her face and Billy casually sauntering out of one of the rooms with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

Billy’s grin widened then as he leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your ear, your cheek, your neck. “If you don’t believe me, I could always prove it to you.” His hand slid from the back of the booth to rest on your thigh, much like you had done to him only moments prior, his touch light but deliberate. “Trust me, Cherry Baby, that’s a ride you wouldn’t regret.” His grin was wolfish, his grip on your thigh tightening just slightly.

You raised a brow, a mixture of curiosity and skepticism crossing your face as you hummed. “And how exactly… would you prove it?”

Billy’s eyes gleamed with a playful confidence that you had heard was well-earned by most of the females in the senior class. “Well, if you’re up for it, we could find out tonight. You let me take you out and I’ll show you firsthand that I’m as good as my word.”

You looked him over, close to actually weighing your option with how sure he was of himself. His persistence was almost endearing, you thought. And for the first time since you had known him, there was a part of you that was tempted to see where this could lead. But you had standards, and being one of Billy’s trophies was not something that would land on your bucket list anytime soon.

“Nice try, Billy Boy,” you said, taking his hand off your thigh and dropping it back in his lap. “Maybe another time.”

His smile faltered ever so slightly, but he recovered, giving a scoff much like Tommy had done when you had threatened to tell on him, mumbling ‘your loss’ under his breath as he took back the milkshake you had stolen.

Tina reappeared, plopping back into her seat with a bright smile and her hair in a different updo than it had been when she left. “Miss me?” She chirped, completely oblivious to whatever it was that she had just interrupted.

“Always,” you replied lightly, watching as she pulled a scrap of paper from the back pocket of her pants.

She held it out for you, nodding over to the other table across from the rink. “The cute guy in blue asked me to give this to you,” Tina grinned with a wink.

You unfolded the paper, finding a telephone number hastily scribbled down. Brows rising, you eyed the brown-haired guy on the other side of the rink, only to find him already looking at you. He was cute. You took two quick bites of the burger, washing it down with a few sips of the milkshake that Billy refused to hand back to you before standing and shouldering your purse.

“Teeth check,” you said, and Tina was alert immediately, eyeing your teeth closely for any remnants of food. She gave a thumbs-up and you winked at her, telling them you would see them later as you headed to the other side of the rink.

Billy watched from where he remained seated as you came to a halt on the other side of the rink, holding up the scrap of paper for the guy to see, undoubtedly saying something teasingly rude that—somehow—made guys eat out of your fucking hand. The guy grinned sheepishly at you, scratching at the back of his head, saying something that made you laugh.

Tina sighed from across the table, watching the scene as well, her cheek resting on her hand, a pout on her lips. “I swear, it’s like she’s got a magnetic pull or something,” she muttered, her tone a mixture of admiration and perhaps even a little bit of frustration. “She breathes and guys just come crawling, it’s so unfair.”

Billy on the other hand was less impressed, in fact, he was pretty fucking pissed at the scene. His gaze was sharp as he followed every move you made, his jaw tightening as he watched you laugh, clearly enjoying the other guy’s attention. When he spotted the other guy getting up, leading you out of the door of the rink, he huffed bitterly, grabbing half the burger and fries you had left behind.

Tommy returned, three fresh milkshakes in his grasp, eyeing the empty spot. “Where did Red Hot go?”

“Picked up a guy and left,” Tina pouted, curling her fingers in her dark brown locks. “I should dye my hair, shouldn’t I?”

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You lay sprawled across the backseat of Jake’s car, your breath coming in heavy, satisfied pants, the interior dimly lit by the soft glow of streetlamps, casting a warm glow over your flushed skin. The aftermath of the—impromptu—encounter lingered in the air, though you definitely weren’t complaining. Jake, equally exhausted, sat slouched against the backrest, his breathing gradually slowing as he kept glancing over at you. You turned your head slightly, catching his eyes with a content grin as you patted his shoulder and sat up, ready for departure. “Thanks for that.”

Jake looked back at you, a little taken aback despite the smugness that had been on his face. “Anytime,” he nodded. “Call me sometime?”

You chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Sure thing,” you said, tone light and free of any commitment whatsoever. “I’ll definitely give you a ring.”

His smile widened, clearly pleased with your response. He reached forward and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “I’ll be waiting.”

With a final wink, you fixed the fly of your jeans, pulling your top back down. “See you,” you hummed as you opened the car door.

He bid you goodnight, his voice trailing off as you stepped outside without looking back. You were met with the cool night air of Hawkins, the crispness of the evening washing over you. The streets were quiet, bathed in the soft light of the scarce streetlamps that cast long shadows on the empty roads. You took a deep breath, savoring the solitude as you began your short walk home. You passed a couple of familiar spots—the old diner, the park where you and your middle school friends used to hang out, the library that had long since closed—moving with practiced ease. When you rounded the corner onto your street, the lights of your house came into view.

You quickened your pace, eager to get inside and unwind comfortably on your bed, maybe call Tina and tell her how it went, knowing she would question you tomorrow anyway. Quietly, you opened the front door and slipped inside, closing it softly behind you. Your mom was perched on the edge of the couch, a magazine resting forgotten in her lap as she looked up to you through her reading glasses with a curious smile. “Hey, honey,” she greeted, her tone warm. “How was the roller rink? Did you have fun?”

You offered her a tired, though genuine smile as you slipped off your boots and put them beside the door. “Yeah, it was pretty good.” As you started toward the stairs, she suddenly sighed and shook her head. “You know, you should stop dyeing your hair that awful color. You’ll never bring home a boyfriend looking like that.”

You offered her a disinterested ‘I know’ in response, receiving the same comment each time you re-applied the color, and headed up the stairs.

The first thing you noticed was the answering machine, its red light blinking insistently. You crossed the room, stepping over some clothes that were strewn about, sliding out of what you were currently wearing and tossing it to join the pile carelessly. You grabbed a big shirt—a relic that a fling of yours had to leave behind after you had shoved him out of your window onto the roof when your mom had come home early one day. It was washed out and slightly ripped by now, though still the most comfortable thing you owned by far.

Pulling on the shirt, you took a packet of makeup wipes with you as you settled on the bed, pressing play on the answering machine. The first message was from Carol, her voice edged with frustration as she began to rant about Tommy, and how he was being such a jerk, before she ended the long message with a ‘call me back when you get the chance’. You rolled your eyes, wanting to just plop your eardrums and avoid hearing it all again—still, you knew you would call her back anyway. The second message began to play and you groaned. “Hey, it’s Carol again. Seriously, this is getting ridiculous. He was being all sweet again and now he’s back to being an ass. Call me!” The third message was more of the same. “Carol again. I don’t know what you’re doing…or with whom, not sure I want to know, but I really need to talk to you. Call me back,” she drawled out the last part until her voice became a mere whine and the message ended.

You were about to fast-forward through the rest when Tina’s message came through, her voice a nice contrast to Carol’s. It was cheerful and full of energy, sweet. “Hey! It’s Tina. I hope you not picking up means it went well this time! You have to call me, like, the second you get home and tell me all about how it went. I’m literally dying to know! Anyway, talk soon, love you!”

You grabbed the phone from your bedside table, your fingers quickly punching in the numbers. You hit dial, waiting as the phone rang. “Hey, finally! Tina’s voice crackled through the receiver, bright and cheery. “I’ve been waiting for your call!”

“Hey, Tee,” you said, trying to match her enthusiasm. “Just got back home actually.”

“Just now?” She screeched excitedly. “Tell me everything. Was it, like, totally tubular or what?”

Before Tina could get too far into her excited questioning, you cut in, a peeping coming from the phone. “Hold on a sec, Tee, I’ve got another call coming in.”

You hit the hold button and switched lines. A screech of your name echoed through the receiver so loudly, you had to hold the phone further away in the hopes of shielding whatever remained of your eardrum.

“Finally!” Caro huffed. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all night. You won’t believe it. Tommy’s being a total spaz.”

“Ugh,” you made, eyes rolling on their own accord. “What did he do now?”

“Oh my god, Cherry, you wouldn’t believe it. He is such a mess. He called me earlier, saying he wanted to talk things over, and then he starts talking about how he was just so misunderstood and that he didn’t mean it. Like, seriously? That’s such bogus!”

You stifled a yawn, turning onto your back, knowing this was going to be a rambling marathon. “Oh, he is always so full of excuses, isn’t he? He acts like he’s the king of the world or something.”

“Right!” Carol cried out. “And you know what? He—”

Quickly you hit the hold button again, switching back to Tina before you could hear Carol continue. “Hey, Tina,” you hummed, twirling the cable between your fingers. “Sorry about that. You were saying?”

Tina merely giggled. “Oh, just spill the beans! Was he a real stud or another scrub? Did you have a blast, or what?”

“Honestly, he was a bit boring,” you said, scrunching up your nose as you turned back onto your stomach. “But his hands were amazing, if you know what I mean.”

Tina screeched and laughed in reply, beginning to ask another bunch of questions, which you answered until your eyes fell to the clock on your nightstand. “Hold on another moment, babes.”

You switched lines again, just as Carol’s voice was rising in urgency. She sighed unsure. “What do you think?”

“Ugh, he can be such a dick, honestly,” you said, knowing it would satisfy her, confirming everything what she had been saying—whatever that was. “I can’t believe him sometimes. Who does he think he is?”

“Yes!” Carol exclaimed as though you’d just validated her life’s struggles with two sentences. “Totally bonkers! And you know what? He had the nerve to tell me he was having a rough day. Like, seriously? I don’t care if he’s having a rough day, like—” As Carol’s rant picked up, you hit the hold button again, switching back to Tina.

“I’m back,” you said, telling her that Carol was close to combusting on the other line. “I love her, don’t get me wrong,” you started, having been friends with Carol since you had thrown sand at each other in the sandbox and cried together about it. “But I just wanna strangle both her and Tommy with the phone cord sometimes.”

You kept both calls going for about an hour, which had become something of a nightly routine in the past years. You finished chatting with Tina, who had to cut the conversation short because her mother needed the phone. After a brief goodbye, you switched back to Carol, who was still ranting in the background.

“—and then he has the nerve to act like it’s all my fault! Like, seriously, how self-centered can one person be? I just don’t get it!” As her voice died down, you could hear her heave a deep sigh on the other line. “Anyway, enough about Tommy, he’s not worth my time.” Worth over an hour holding her breath in favor of ranting, apparently. “What’s up with you? Are you coming to the party tomorrow?”

“Wait, who’s throwing a party?” You asked, confused. It was the middle of the school year, with no special event in sight. Most parties in Hawkins were thrown on holidays or, sometimes, birthdays, but not on random Saturdays—neighbors were too prone to calling the sheriff about a noise complaint.

Carol’s tone shifted to a more casual, dismissive one. “Don’t know, don’t care. I just know everyone’s going. You have to come, too. I need someone to keep me away from Tommy, he should grovel a little longer before I even think about forgiving him! Plus, I could really use a wing-woman! Help me get Tommy out of my mind. It will be fun, you’ll have a blast, promise!”

“I don’t know, I’ll decide tomorrow, alright?” You said, telling her you were going to go to sleep. Hanging up the phone, you fell back onto the bed with a sigh, finishing removing the make still clinging to your skin. There was no way you were going to that party, you could do well without beer spilling on your shoes and drunken bodies bumping into you left and right. No, thanks.

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The bass of the music thumped through your chest as you navigated the crowded living room, dodging people gyrating to the beat and stumbling over half-empty cups scattered on the floor. The flickering strobe lights created a kaleidoscope of colors that painted the walls and cast erratic shadows over the dancing—stumbling—people. Carol, having arrived already pretty tipsy, was in her element with her arms thrown up into the air as she bounced to the music with excited screams, trying to (and failing) to follow the lyrics.

You laughed at her, trying to keep up with your friends as you swayed to the music. The air was hot and sticky, filled with mixed scents of spice cologne, fruity perfume, and, most of all, sweat. When the shoving and shouting became too much for your sober self to take, you told Carol you were going out for a little bit of fresh air, before slipping through the crowd out the back door into the cool night air. Although not fully quiet, the backyard was a welcome relief from the throbbing beat inside. A few girls and guys were lingering outside having a smoke or little make-out sessions against the shed to the far left. You chuckled at the careless couple, leaning against the cool façade of the house and taking a deep breath, letting the air calm your racing heart.

Just as you were starting to relax, a shadow fell over you. You looked up, finding a guy you vaguely recognized standing before you with a drunken grin. “Hey,” he said with a slur of your name, stepping closer and holding onto the house wall to keep himself from falling over. “You look like you wanna get out of here. How about you come with me? I live real close.”

You straightened up, trying to maintain your composure through the irritation you were feeling. “Yeah, no thanks, I’ll pass.”

He didn’t take the hint—or the blatant rejection. “Come on, don’t be like that. You look like you could use some fun.” Just as he reached out, his hand brushing against your waist, a voice cut through the night air with a sharp edge.

“Hey, shithead!” Billy, a cigarette dangling from his lips, appeared from the darkened edge of the backyard. His eyes narrowed as they fixed on the guy harassing you. Without hesitation, Billy took another long drag from the cigarette and flicked its remnants at the stranger, bud bouncing off the stranger’s chest. “Back off,” he said, stepping closer, his voice low and itching for a fight.

“What’s your problem?” the drunk guy mumbled, clearly having trouble grasping the interruption and also clearly not understanding he would be eating grass in a few short moments if he didn’t back off.

Billy smirked, his confidence radiating—like it always was when he was picking fights. “My problem is you’re bothering someone so far out of your league, she could squash you with the dirt under her boots, you ant. Now, get your ass out of her before I make you regret it.”

The drunk guy, mumbling something neither you or Billy fully understood, stumbled away, eager to rejoin the party and escape further confrontation—which would have ended in a broken nose, no doubt.

Billy turned his attention to you, his smirk turning into a genuine, if slightly teasing, smile. “You alright, Cherry Baby?”

You nodded, threading a thin line between gratefulness and annoyance. It was a relief that the situation had been dealt with so swiftly, but still, you would have been fine handling it by yourself (since the guy had barely managed to stand on his own two legs). “I was just trying to get some air,” you huffed, staying leaned against the wall as you looked him over. Damn him and damn whoever kept selling him these jeans.

Billy looked you over, checking again if you truly were all right before nodding himself. “How about I give you a ride home?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms to shield yourself from the chilly wind that was flowing through the night. “I barely just got here.”

Billy shrugged, a sly grin spreading on his full lips—on which you might have been able to spy some remnants of a pinkish lipstick. You ignored it as he continued. “How about just a little drive then?”

You gave him a skeptical look. “Are you even sober enough to drive?”

Billy placed one hand over his heart, holding the other up as though he was swearing an oath. “Sober as a nun,” he grinned, pearly whites on display as he lifted one of his legs off the ground. “What do you think?” He leaned to the far left, keeping balance on one foot, acting as though he was going to fall. Repeating the action on the right, he put his pointer finger against his nose and as if he was finishing a show, he bowed at the waist, clearly (mostly) sober.

Despite yourself, you smiled back at him. “Fine, one drive. But if you start doing donuts again, I’m jumping out.”

Billy chuckled, offering you a mock salute with two fingers. “No donuts, scout’s honor. Just a smooth ride and some fresh air.” With that, he led you to his car, a beautiful blue Camaro that you knew was one of the few things he truly loved. The smooth purr of the engine welcomed you as you settled into the passenger seat.

The wind was whipping against your face, trashing your hair as you leaned out of the window. The streetlights blurred by in a dizzying streak of orange and yellow, the speed at which Billy was going—highly illegal, no doubt—filling you with a sense of freedom.

An idea sparked in your mind. You pulled your head back into the car, grinning at him. “Billy,” you started, already batting your eyelashes. He sighed knowingly, having spent enough time with you to notice when you wanted something. “Can we go to the spot? Please.”

Billy’s brows shot up to his hairline as he gave you a sidelong glance. “You know I hate getting baby dirty.”

You pouted, giving him your best pleading look. “Come on, Billy, please? I haven’t been there in ages.”

Billy’s eyes softened just a fraction as he considered your request. He sighed, clearly torn between his poor car and your big, pleading eyes. “Fine,” he huffed, lifting a warning finger at you. “But you’re washing the car. And I swear, if you wear anything more than a bikini, I’m never bringing you here again.”

“Pervert,” you commented, slapping his shoulder with a grin as he took a turn onto a dirt road.

“For you? Always.”

You rolled your eyes, putting your feet on the floor of the car harder, hand going to its roof as the road became rough and uneven. The car jostled and bounced as it made its way through the muddy terrain, the tires splashing through puddles, sending up sprays of mud. After what felt like an eternity of bouncing and swerving, Billy finally brought the car to a stop at the clearing you’d both discovered a while back when the sheriff was trying to stop Billy and give him a speeding ticket. It was a secluded spot in the woods, surrounded by tall trees and overlooking a silent, moonlit lake. The view was breathtakingly beautiful, something one would perhaps find painted on canvas.

Billy shut off the engine and turned to you with a resigned but affectionate smile. “Here we are. One muddy car later.”

“I swear I’ll clean it!”

“You better,” he grumbled good-naturedly, pushing open his car door. You followed suit, hopping out of the car into the squelching softness of the mud below. You made your way to the edge of the water, where rocks were scattered about, big enough to take a seat. Pushing yourself onto one of the rocks, you let your legs dangle off the side, staring out onto the lake, its surface shimmering silvery under the moonlight.

Billy leaned against his car, the cool night air ruffling his hair. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he broke it, his voice casual. “So, how did the rest of your night go? With that guy from the rink.”

You turned your head to him, taken aback by the sudden question. His tone was nonchalant, but there was an edge to it that made you pause. “It was fine,” you replied finally, trying to keep your tone light. “Nothing special. Just, you know, the usual.”

Billy raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady on you as he played with the gum in his mouth, pushing it against his teeth with his tongue. “The usual? That’s it?”

You shrugged, not sure how to respond to his tone. Talking with Billy was different than talking to Tina about the guy, despite both of them being your friends. “I mean, it was okay, good enough, I guess.”

Billy’s jaw tightened slightly, his eyes darkening as he looked away from you. “Sounds like you had the date of the century.”

You frowned, sensing the undercurrent of his words. “Is there something you want to say, Billy?”

He looked back at you, his expression softening just a little. “Nah, I’m just curious. You turned down my offer just to go off with some random guy. Just wanted to know if it was worth it.”

You could feel the tension in the air, and for a moment, you considered your response carefully. Billy’s frustration was more than noticeable, in the way his jaw was ticking, the tension lingering in his shoulders, the glint in his eyes—you saw them, no matter how nonchalant he was trying to act. Not wanting to stoke the flames, you shrugged again. “Honestly,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “It wasn’t anything special. Just a quick thing. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

Billy chuckled, a sound that was more bitter than amused. “Just wasn’t expecting you to go fuck someone else right after I asked you out. Bit of a dick move if you ask me.”

You echoed the last of his words, with a roll of your eyes. “I’m not interested in just being another notch on your fucking bedpost, Billy.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like that.”

“What is it like, then? You wanna date me? Become another Carol and Tommy?” You asked with a scoff. “Fuck no. I don’t need that.”

The air grew thicker within seconds, the quiet atmosphere of the moonlit lake doing nothing to calm the storm about to spew out of control between you. Billy’s jaw clenched as your words hung in the air, his composure slipping just enough to reveal the irritation simmering beneath the surface. “Carol and Tommy? That’s what you think this is?” he shot back, his voice rising. “You are comparing us to those idiots?”

You jumped down from the rock, the smooth, cold surface of the stone slipping under your feet as your frustration bubbled over. “What am I supposed to think, Billy? You’ve been here a little over a year and you’ve gained a worse reputation than anyone else in a lifetime! I’m not looking to be the next girl you brag about to Tommy. I don’t want to play that fucking game.”

Billy’s eyes flashed in anger as he pushed off the car, taking a step closer to you. “I’m not playing games with you, Cherry. But you’ve got this delusion in your head that you got me all figured out. Maybe if you’d just give me a chance instead of running off with every guy who flashes you a smile, you’d see that.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, his words hitting close to home. You hated how he could get under your skin like this, how he could make you feel exposed and defensive all at once. “Maybe I just don’t want to fucking give you a chance, Billy. What, you think because you got your dick sucked by half of Hawkins that you’re something special? Be fucking for real.”

His expression darkened, and for a moment, you could see the hurt behind his anger. “You’re not giving me any credit. I’m not like those other guys, and you know it. I’m not just another asshole trying to get in your pants.”

“Because that’s exactly what it feels like!” You shouted, your voice echoing across the clearing. The words came out harsher than you intended, but you were too far gone to care. “You think I don’t see the way you look at me like I’m some piece of meat? The way you act like you’ve got a claim on me just because you’ve been asking me out? Newsflash, Billy, I don’t owe you anything.”

Billy’s fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, you thought he might snap and spur all the hateful things you had said back in tenfold. But instead, he took a deep breath, his gaze hardening. “Fine. You know what? I’m done. Let’s just get out of here.”

“Fine,” you shot back, crossing your arms as you stormed toward the car. “Take me home.”

Billy didn’t respond, just yanked open the driver’s side door and slid in, slamming it shut behind him. You followed suit, your blood still boiling as you climbed into the passenger seat, not bothering to look at him. He turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. But as he tried to pull away, the car lurched forward, only to come to a sudden stop, the tires spinning uselessly in the mud.

“Shit,” Billy muttered under his breath, trying again to no avail. The car was well and truly stuck.

“Great,” you muttered, your irritation reaching new heights. “Just great.”

Billy shot you a glare, his anger rekindling. “This is what happens when you insist on coming out here. Now we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere.”

“Oh, so this is my fault now?” you snapped, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You didn’t have to take me here, Billy.”

“You begged me to bring you here,” he shot back, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. “And now look where we are.”

You glared at him, the tension between you almost suffocating. “Just get us out of here, Billy.”

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “But you’re pushing.”

“What?” You stared at him in disbelief.

“You heard me,” Billy said, unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car to assess the situation. “Get your ass out of the car and push while I floor it. Maybe then we can get out of this mess.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” he shot back, his expression hard as he stood by the driver’s side door. “You wanted to come here, so now you’re gonna help get us out.”

With a groan of frustration, you pushed open your door and stepped into the mud, your shoes sinking into the muck. This night just kept getting better and better.

As you positioned yourself behind the car, your hands once again pressed firmly against the trunk, you braced yourself for another attempt. The mud squelched beneath your shoes, threatening to pull them off with every movement. You could feel the tension in your arms and shoulders, your muscles straining as you prepared to push.

"Ready?" Billy's voice called out from the driver's seat, a mix of determination and frustration lacing his words.

"Just do it," you gritted out, your focus entirely on the task at hand.

"Alright, on three. One… two… three!"

The car's engine roared to life again as Billy floored the gas, the tires spinning wildly against the thick mud. You pushed with all your might, digging your feet into the ground for leverage. For a moment, it felt like nothing was happening, like the car was still firmly stuck in place. But then, just as you were about to give up hope, the car lurched forward. But instead of the smooth movement you were hoping for, the car only moved a tiny bit—just enough to send a spray of mud flying right at you. You barely had time to react before the cold, wet muck splattered across your front, drenching your clothes and hitting your face with a disgusting splat.

"Are you kidding me?!" you shouted, your voice half-frustrated, half-incredulous as you wiped a thick layer of mud off your face. You could barely see through the sludge that clung to your eyelashes and dripped down your cheeks.

Billy cut the engine and stepped out of the car, trying his best to hide the smirk on his face but failing miserably. “Hey, Cherry,” he called out in that infuriatingly casual tone. “You’ve got a little something on your face.”

“Really?” You huffed at the teasingly malicious glint in his eyes. “I hadn’t noticed,” you shot back sarcastically, wiping another glob off your cheek with the back of your hand.

Billy just chuckled, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “You might want to clean that up. Wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re a swamp creature.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and, without saying a word, you bent down, scooped up a handful of thick, sticky mud, and hurled it straight at him. The mud splattered against his chest, leaving a satisfying smear across his shirt. Billy’s eyes widened in surprise before narrowing into a playful glare. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that, Cherry.”

Before you could react, he bent down, grabbing a handful of mud from the ground. “You think you can get away with that?”

You didn’t hesitate. “I think I just did.”

He grinned devilishly, launching the mud in your direction. You ducked, laughing as it sailed over your head and landed with a splat on the ground behind you. “Is that all you’ve got, Hargrove?”

“Oh, it’s on now,” Billy shot back, grabbing more mud.

What started as a playful throw quickly escalated into an all-out mud war. You both ducked and dodged, flinging mud at each other with reckless abandon. The more you threw, the more you both laughed, the tension from earlier melting away in the absurdity of it all.

Billy managed to land a particularly messy shot right on your shoulder, sending a wave of mud splattering everywhere. You gasped, then grabbed a double handful of mud and charged at him, hurling it with all your might. Billy laughed, trying to dodge, but you managed to hit him square in the chest again.

“Oh, you’re dead!” Billy called out, dropping all pretense of dodging as he scooped up more mud, but you were already sprinting away, laughing uncontrollably as he chased after you.

You ran around the car, barely avoiding his muddy missiles as you darted behind trees and over rocks, laughing so hard you could hardly catch your breath. Billy was right behind you, and you could hear his laughter mixing with yours, the sound echoing through the night air.

Finally, he caught up to you, grabbing you around the waist and spinning you around as you both tumbled into the dirt together, a mess of laughter and mud. You landed on your back, Billy hovering over you, both of you panting from the exertion and the hilarity of it all.

You looked up at him, seeing amusement on his face beneath the layer of dirt, and couldn’t help but burst out laughing again. “You’re such an idiot,” you managed to say between gasps for air.

Billy grinned down at you, his eyes twinkling. “Takes one to know one.”

Noticing that his guard was down, you subtly reached beside you, fingers curling around another handful of thick, cold mud. Feigning innocence, you brought your free hand up to gently wipe a stray smear from his cheek. "You missed a spot," you said softly, your voice laced with playful sweetness.

Billy's gaze softened for a split second, his lips curling into a small, genuine smile. "Oh yeah?" he replied, clearly unaware of your devious plan.

Seizing the perfect moment, you swiftly brought your other hand up, smearing the gooey mud all across his face, making sure to cover as much surface area as possible. The look of pure shock and disbelief that crossed his features was priceless, and you couldn't contain the burst of laughter that erupted from you, echoing through the quiet night. Billy blinked through the mud now dripping down his face, his mouth opening in mock offense. "Alright, that's it. You've asked for it now."

Before you could react, his strong arms wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. Your laughter turned into a surprised squeal as he effortlessly pulled you along. "Billy, what are you—" your protest was cut short as he began striding purposefully towards the shimmering lake just a few yards away.

Eyes wide, you wriggled in his grasp, half-heartedly trying to break free while still giggling uncontrollably. "Don't you dare! Billy, it's freezing!" you exclaimed, though the excitement in your voice betrayed any real protest.

He looked down at you with a wicked grin, his blue eyes dancing with delight. "Should've thought about that before you decided to redecorate my face," he teased.

In a matter of seconds, you felt the soft mud give way to the cool, smooth pebbles lining the edge of the lake. The silvery surface of the water rippled gently under the moonlight, looking both beautiful and daunting in the chilly night air.

"Billy, wait!" you tried one last time, but it was no use. With a triumphant laugh, he took one final step and plunged both of you straight into the lake.

The cold water enveloped you instantly, seeping through your clothes and shocking your system with its icy touch. You gasped as you resurfaced, spluttering and pushing your now-soaked hair out of your face. The chill was intense, but the adrenaline and sheer absurdity of the situation had you laughing despite the shivers that ran down your spine.

Billy emerged beside you, shaking his head like a wet dog and sending droplets flying everywhere. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his clothes clung to his toned frame, but the triumphant, boyish smile on his face was unmistakable.

"You're insane!" you exclaimed, splashing water at him in retaliation.

He laughed, dodging the splash with a playful glint in his eye. "Maybe, but you started it," he retorted, splashing back at you.

The two of you continued your water fight, the lake erupting with waves and laughter as you chased each other through the shallows. The cold was soon forgotten amid the fun, your earlier argument completely dissolved into the night. You tried to escape his onslaught by wading deeper into the water, but Billy was quick, closing the distance between you effortlessly. Before you knew it, he had caught you again, his arms encircling your waist as he lifted you slightly, spinning you around. The world became a blur of moonlight and water, your laughter mingling with his as the stars above glimmered down at you. Finally, breathless and exhausted, you both trudged back to the shore, collapsing onto a patch of soft, damp grass. You lay there side by side, staring up at the vast expanse of the night sky, your chests heaving as you tried to catch your breaths.

Billy turned his head to look at you, droplets clinging to his eyelashes and a soft smile playing on his lips. “You wouldn’t believe the shrinkage right now.”

You looked at him for a second, at the seriousness in his eyes, before a loud laugh tore forth from your throat, your head throwing back. Only when shivering overtook your laughter did you sit up, both of you scrambling to get back to the car, the chill of the night truly starting to creep back in.

Billy yanked open the driver’s side door and practically dove inside, immediately reaching for the ignition. The engine roared to life as he cranked up the heat, the vents blasting slowly warming air into the car’s insides. You scrambled into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind you as you huddled near the heater, soaking in the warmth, with the leather squeaking under your sopping wet behind.

You both shared a glance, a silent agreement as you both instantly began peeling off your soaked clothes, the fabric stubbornly clinging to your skin. Free from the cold fabric, you tossed it into the backseat, along with Billy’s. Sitting in the front seat in merely your underwear, Billy didn’t seem phased at all, already down to his boxers, his skin glowing faintly in the dim light of the car’s interior. Your eyes moved on their own accord, taking in the muscular physique he made no secret of hiding, while both of your arms were resting in front of your barely clothed body with uncertainty.

Billy gave you a sideways glance, a small smirk playing on his lips. “What? Shy all of a sudden?” He teased, though his tone was light.

You rolled your eyes, mustering up a defiant grin. “Not at all,” you shot back, your cradling arms falling away, giving him a full view of the lacy black bra and mismatched panties. You shivered as the cool air hit your skin, quickly moving closer to the heater.

The warmth from the vents was a welcome relief, and you both sat there for a few moments in silence, the only sounds being your heavy breathing and the whir of the car's heating system. The situation was oddly intimate, the two of you sitting in the front seats in nothing but your underwear, trying to stave off the cold together.

Billy leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes as he soaked in the warmth, his chest rising and falling steadily. You couldn't help but sneak another glance at him, your eyes tracing the contours of his muscles, the faint scars that marred his otherwise perfect skin. Despite everything that had happened tonight, there was something undeniably comforting about being here with him, sharing this quiet, private moment.

As the heat finally began to chase away the last of the cold, you both started to relax, the tension that had built up earlier now almost completely gone. Billy cracked an eye open, catching you in the act of staring at him, and he gave you a lazy grin.

"Comfortable?" he asked, his voice low and slightly teasing.

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, there was no real bite to it. "As comfortable as I can be sitting in a car, in the middle of nowhere, in my underwear."

He chuckled, leaning forward to adjust the heat, making sure it was on full blast. "Could be worse," he said, glancing over at you with a playful glint in his eye. "Could be with anyone else.”

You hummed softly, the sound filling the small space between you. "Yeah, I suppose this is a good option."

The two of you sat there for a while longer, letting the warmth seep into your bones. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that was rare in your life, and you found yourself appreciating it more than you would have expected. Eventually, you leaned back in your seat, your eyes fluttering to stare outside tiredly as the heat and exhaustion from the night's events began to lull you into a state of relaxation.

Beside you, Billy shifted slightly, his hand brushing against yours as he adjusted his position. The touch was brief, almost accidental, but it sent a spark of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the car's heater.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, the words slipped out, almost like an involuntary reflex. “Fine, one date.”

Billy’s eyes snapped open, any trace of sleepiness gone as he turned his head sharply to look at you. His brow furrowed in confusion as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. “What?”

You turned your gaze from the window to meet his eyes, your heart pounding just a little harder in your chest. “One date,” you repeated, holding up a single finger for emphasis. “One. Don’t get any ideas.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if processing your words. Then, a slow grin spread across his face, lighting up his features in a way that was almost boyish, a terribly obvious contrast to the cool demeanor he usually projected. “You’re serious?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of indifference. “Yes, I’m serious. But don’t get too excited—it’s just one date.” Shrugging, you tried playing it off even though your heart was still racing. “Don’t make me change my mind, Hargrove.”

His grin widened, and there was a glint in his eyes that told you he wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and challenge.

You could feel the shift in the air, the playful banter from earlier replaced by something more charged, more real. There was no backing out now—not that you wanted to, not really. Deep down, part of you was curious about what a date with Billy would be like, what it would mean for the two of you.

But you weren’t about to let him know that.

“One date,” you repeated firmly, giving him a pointed look. “And you better make it good, because that’s all you’re getting.”

Billy’s gaze locked onto yours, his expression serious despite the playful tone of the conversation. “Trust me,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

You let out a huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned back in your seat. “We’ll see about that.”

Billy chuckled again, but this time, there was a softness to it, a warmth that made you feel like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t making a huge mistake.

For now, you’d let yourself see where this could lead. Just one date. Nothing more, nothing less.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You were on your knees, scrubbing away at the stubborn dirt caked on Billy’s car, your muscles starting to protest from the effort. A hose lay coiled at your side, ready for the next round of rinsing. Sweat was gathering on your forehead, making you wipe at it every once in a while with damp hands. It was a terribly hot day, the sun beating down on you, making you regret agreeing to wash Billy’s car. Every now and then, your eyes flitted to Tina and Carol lounging comfortably in lawn chairs a few feet away, lazily sipping on lemonades and gossiping about the latest drama in Hawkins.

Carol tilted her sunglasses down, watching you with a teasing smirk. “You missed a spot, Cherry.”

You shot her a look, turning your attention back to the sponge in your hand, tempted to hurl it at them both. Instead of doing what had been on your mind, you pressed the sponge back to the blue surface, scrubbing even harder at a particularly stubborn patch of mud. Taking the hose, you rinsed the foam away, water spraying across the car’s side, splashing back onto you, soaking through your shirt. You sighed, knowing you had at least another hour of this.

Tina leaned over, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “Did you hear about Becky and Steve? Total disaster. She caught him flirting with Nancy Wheeler at the party. Can you believe it?”

“As if!” Carol rolled her eyes, “I told you Steve was a player. Becky should’ve known better.”

You finished with the hood, stood up, and stretched, feeling the ache in your back. The half-cleaned car gleamed under the sun, but there was still so much left to do. You grabbed the hose and rinsed off the suds, watching as the water ran off in murky rivulets, carrying away the grime. Finally, you plopped down on the grass between Tina and Carol, leaning back onto your elbows. Wordlessly, Tina handed you her glass of lemonade and you took a grateful sip, the cold, sour liquid refreshing as it slid down your throat.

Carol narrowed her eyes at you, a grimace on her face. “So, why are you washing Billy’s car anyway?” she asked, suspicion lacing her tone.

You shrugged nonchalantly, handing the lemonade back to Tina. “Lost a bet,” you lied, keeping your expression neutral.

Carol raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it but interested nonetheless. “Uh-huh. What kind of bet?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Does it matter?” A bet’s a bet.”

Carol gave you a skeptical look, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, turning the conversation back to Becky and Steve, her voice dripping with malice as she recalled all the wrongs Steve had ever done. A year back, when Tommy and Carol had been on one of their breaks, Carol had hit on Steve—he had been a vital part of your group of friends back then—only to be shot down. Ever since then, Steve had distanced himself, distancing himself from Carol’s snarky comments and spiteful looks. You had found out about the situation only after Carol had gotten drunk at a party and spilled the beans to you, crying that she was unlovable.

Before you could get back up to finish cleaning the car, Tina cut in with a sly grin, “Oh, C, did I tell you? Billy asked Cherry out again.” Your head snapped in the direction of your brunette friend, a warning glare in your eyes, knowing you had made her swear above and beyond not to mention it to Carol.

Carol let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes. “Well, it’s getting pathetic by now. The guy just doesn’t know when to quit.” She wrapped her sparkly lips around the baby blue straw, taking a few sips of the lemonade, looking to you for confirmation.

Before you could reply, Tina leaned forward further, grin widening. “Cherry said yes!”

Carol choked on her lemonade, eyes widening with surprise. She couched, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, staring at you in disbelief. She screeched your real name, the one nobody but your mother used. “You can’t be serious!”

Picking at the grass beside you, you shrugged, pursing your lips—not without giving Tina the stink eye she deserved—trying to play it off. “It’s just one date, Care. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Carol continued to gape at you, clearly flabbergasted by the revelation. “But—it’s Billy! What changed?” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Is he black-mailing you?”

“Carol,” you scoffed warningly.

She wasn’t letting it go, though, leaning forward, her expression intense. “I just don’t get it. You’ve shot him down, like, a million times. Why now?” She didn’t even give you the chance to answer, huffing instead and leaning back in her chair. “I just hope you know what you’re doing. Billy’s not exactly boyfriend material.”

You shot her a sharp look, your patience wearing thin. “You’re one to talk. Remind me again how many times I held you while you cried because Tommy’s tongue was down someone else’s throat?”

Carol’s face flushed, her eyes narrowing. “That’s different, and you know it!”

“Is it?” You countered, not backing down.

Carol stood up abruptly, her face still tinged with annoyance. She grabbed her purse, smoothing her skirt as she huffed, “I have to get home for lunch.” She hesitated for a moment, then added with a pointed glare, “But don’t come crying to me when he hurts you.”

You rolled your eyes, the annoyance bubbling up inside you as her words grated on your nerves. Carol always acted like she had it all figured out, but you’d seen her cry over Tommy more times than you could count. You weren’t about to let her get away with that kind of condescension.

Sharply, you shot back, “I don’t cry over boys, Carol. Boys are just placeholders—they come and they go, and they for sure aren’t worth my tears.”

Carol’s eyes widened in surprise at your retort, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t have a comeback for that, and after a tense moment, she just shook her head and turned on her heel, walking away without another word. You watched her go, your irritation still simmering, but there was also a sense of satisfaction. You weren’t going to let anyone, not even a friend, belittle your decisions or act like they knew what was best for you. You were in control of your own life, and you’d handle things your way.

As the sound of her footsteps faded, Tina broke the silence, her voice hesitant. “That was really mean, Cherry.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you tried to shake off the lingering frustration. “She just doesn’t get it. I’m not looking for some epic romance or whatever. I’m just… seeing where things go. And if Billy screws up, that’s on him. I’ll move on.”

“If you say so.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You were fuming as you stepped back into your house, frustration bubbling up inside you. You had spent the entire evening waiting for Billy, all dressed up and ready for the surprise date he had been teasing you about all week. You’d gone all out in a tight black dress that complemented your hair, your makeup perfect. You had actually felt somewhat excited, seeing where Billy would take you, since he had spent all week teasing you, saying he had everything planned down to perfection. But as the minutes ticked by and Billy failed to show up, your excitement quickly turned to anger. An hour had passed, then another, and still no sign of him. You tried calling him, but he didn’t answer, nobody answered. Your patience wore thin, and you felt a mix of humiliation and rage bubbling up. By the time you decided to head back inside, you were seething.

On Monday morning, you were over it—or, at least, you told yourself you were. When you saw him approaching you in the school hallway, you ignored him completely, walking away so briskly that your boots clicked sharply against the floor.

“Hey, Cherry!” Billy called out, catching up with you. His voice was casual, but you could tell he was… flustered?  “I was trying to reach you—”

“Yeah, well, I was busy,” you hummed, your tone frosty as you raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “I have better things to do than wait around for men.” Billy stopped in his tracks, his face falling. You noticed the bruise on his left eye and your anger flared even more. The sight of it made you think, that instead of picking you up, he had been out drinking and gotten himself into another fight.

“Cherry, listen—” Billy began, but you cut him off again.

“Save it,” you said bluntly, your eyes flashing with irritation. “I don’t need excuses. You clearly had something better to do and, frankly, I’m not interested in your drama.”

Billy’s jaw tightened. He took a deep breath, trying to control his rising anger at your dismissal. “Look, Cherry, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m done with this,” you said firmly, turning away from him. “See you in class.”

You stormed into the locker room, fuming as you kicked off your boots and headed for your locker. The events of the morning had you well and truly seething, not caring about the looks you were getting as you fumbled with your locker, trying to get the cheerleading uniform out. You hastily pulled the green and white uniform on, white sneakers in your hand, when suddenly the locker room door swung open, followed by an enthusiastic squeal. “Guys, you won’t believe it!” A girl from the squad burst, her gray eyes wide with excitement—Jenna, a sophomore who had been accepted into the team at the beginning of the year—bounced with every step she took. “Billy Hargrove just asked me out!”

You looked up, your anger momentarily forgotten as your eyes narrowed in disbelief. Jenna continued, the rest of the girls having gathered to hear the story of how it had happened, none noticing the effect her words were having on you.

“He was like all charming and stuff. I thought it was so sweet—”

“Sweet?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Billy Hargrove isn’t sweet, so if you don’t want him to cut your date short, I’d buy a box of condoms if I were you.”

The room fell silent as the rest of the squad around you gaped at the blunt comment. Jenna’s excitement faltered slightly, her eyes wide as she stared at you, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

You let out a heavy sigh, shrugging as if it were no big deal. “Oh, come on, don’t act like you don’t know what they are saying about him. He’s not the guy to show up with flowers and love letters. He’s going to take what he wants and then disappear before you even realize what happened and he won’t give you the time of day again.” Your tone softened. “Be smarter than that, Jenna.”

A few of the girls exchanged uneasy glances, while Jenna’s face merely continued to fall further. She looked crestfallen as she nodded slowly. “Thanks for the heads-up, Cherry.”

You managed a tight-lipped smile and turned back to your locker, feeling a pang of guilt for being so harsh. It wasn’t Jenna’s fault she was excited; it was just frustrating to see Billy’s charming façade still working its magic on everyone. The conversation shifted back to other topics as the cheerleaders began to prepare for practice, but the tension from your comment lingered in the air.

You were going to be smarter than that, too.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You had managed to steer clear of Billy Hargrove for over a month, keeping your distance and focusing on literally anything else. Though ignoring him, also meant ignoring plans your friends made, which, more often than not, included Billy, too. Even though the tension from your last encounter with him had slowly faded, being near him felt awkward—at least that’s what Tina said it felt like when she had been sitting alone with both of you at your usual booth at the roller rink. The buzz of Fourth of July was quickly approaching, and with it, Nicole’s annual party that weeks before and weeks after would be the talk of the town. Each year, her parents would leave town to visit her grandparents, leaving Nicole with the house all to herself—and dozens of drunken teenagers to make a mess of it. The invitation had been passed out everywhere—school, the mall, the arcade, even on the street to strangers that Nicole thought looked cute.

On the day itself, you found yourself standing in front of Nicole’s house, dressed in a backless blue denim jumpsuit, the zipper in the front just enough undone to reveal the beginnings of a red bra beneath—with two white stars painted on the back pockets of the jumper. Tina and Carol had insisted on a festive theme, both of their cheeks smeared with red, white, and blue stripes that you had oh so gratefully refused.

The night air was warm and filled with the sounds of drunken laughter and loud music as you walked up to the house, trailing your friends. Red, white, and blue streamers adorned the front porch, a large banner hanging above the entrance, declaring ‘Stars, Stripes, and Sips—Let’s Get Lit!’. You shook your head at the hand-painted banner and walked past it into the already bustling house. Some of the people you recognized, while others you weren’t even sure were citizens of Hawkins.

Tina, enthusiasm quite literally painted on her face, immediately took hold of both your and Carol’s hands, pulling you into the kitchen of the familiar house. “Come on, ladies!” Tina urged, her eyes gleaming with excitement—and mischief. “I starved myself all day, so this would be worth it!” She said, grabbing a tray of shot glasses and starting to dole out tequila with shaking hands. Ignoring the spilled substance, she handed each of you a shot, taking the saltshaker and a lime for herself. She urged both of you to lick your hand before eagerly salting the spot, telling you to take a lime already. Tina lifted her shot, toasting to freedom, fireworks and something you didn’t understand because a loud cheer had gone through the crowd. Without waiting, she licked the salt away, tipping her head back with the shot, swallowing and quickly taking a bite of her lime. Her face twisted with disgust and the sour tinge of citrus—though she wasn’t affected by it long, already beginning to pour herself a second glass.

You licked, swallowed, and bit, squinting your eyes shut to keep from gagging at the taste. A burning warmth worked through your esophagus, traveling to your stomach. You immediately regretted spending the whole day in the company of Tina, with her not stopping to eat for just a second, you hadn’t done so either. Although you perhaps shouldn’t have, you accepted the second shot she had poured without complaint, downing it together with Carol and Tina—solidarity and all that.

Straying from tequila, you mixed some sweet drink for yourself in one of the blue plastic cups, refusing Tina when she told you to add another few ounces of alcohol. Carol told you she would see if Tommy had gotten here yet—they had reconciled for the time being—and vanished in the crowd. An excited screech left Tina’s lips as she hammered the palms of her hands lightly against your bare arm, pointing toward the group that was gathering on the couches to play stupid little games.

“Please?” She pouted, already beginning to pull you along.

You scrunched up your nose and shook your head with an apologetic smile, suggesting that you’d watch instead. She was content enough with it not to argue further, jumping over the back of the sofa and plopping between a few people from the senior class. You stood behind her, sipping your drink, slightly propping yourself against the couch as a girl started explaining the rules. Not bothering to listen, since you weren’t going to participate anyway, you took to looking around the decorations Nicole had put up. She always went all out, even though nobody really cared if there were balloons and confetti as long as there was beer and music.

“Never have I ever done the dirty with Billy Hargrove,” some girl giggled—that had you snapping your head back to the group. The blonde smirked as she raised her own glass on took a sip, clearly not giving a damn about the sense of the game. Almost all the other girls, excluding Tina—thank God—immediately took a sip from their drinks, giggling and exchanging knowing looks as they began to gossip about their experiences. You rolled your eyes and grimaced, patting Tina on the shoulder to let her know you were leaving the scene, heading toward the dancing crowd.

You spotted the cheer squad in the thick of it, moving in sync with the beat and enjoying themselves with some half-assed choreography they were making up on the spot. They chuckled as someone suggested another dance move, copying it, swaying all drunk and silly. You slipped through the crowd to join them, being greeted by an excited chorus of your name and messy hugs. Swaying and dancing until sweat was warming the nape of your neck, you let the bass and the flashing lights wash away the annoyance of the evening.

Lost in the music, you barely noticed some guy sidling up, until some of the girls gave excited noises and a hand wrapped around your waist. “Hey, there,” he said, his voice smooth and flirtatious. He had a confident swagger, a smile that seemed far too eager. “Mind if I cut in?”

You looked him up and down, unimpressed. He wasn’t really your type—lacking the edge and cutting charm that usually attracted you. But as you glanced over his shoulder, you caught sight of Billy Hargrove standing by the wall, his eyes fixed on you and the guy. For reasons beyond you, your heart hopped at the thought of him having watched you, having eyes for merely you in a crowd of people far more eager to go along with whatever he wanted. The look on his face was unreadable, stony almost, though you thought you might have spotted a hint of annoyance within.

Before you knew what you were doing, you turned back to the male before you and smiled, a sly, sultry smile that always got you what you wanted. “Sure, why not?” You said, pulling him along and turning him around. Barely interested, you pressed your back against his front, lifting an arm to wrap around his neck while his wrapped around your front. You swayed to the music, ignoring the compliments and whatnot being whispered against your ear, your eyes once in a while flitting to Billy, making certain he was still watching.

The longer you danced, the more tightly the guy held you, the more you could spot Billy’s fist clenching firmly, the furrow in his brow deepening. The more you engaged with the guy, the more Billy seemed to fume—so terribly, you could feel the heat of his stare even from the distance. Billy’s blue orbs found yours as you leaned your head against the guy’s shoulder, Billy’s demeanor shifting. There was a tick in his jaw as he squeezed the life out of the plastic cup in his hands, shooting glares toward you. Deciding to push it further, you stretched your neck, pushing a little at the back of the guy’s head, who got the clue immediately. You grinned knowingly, eyes falling shut only after seeing Billy with his jaw set tight, your red-painted lips falling open in a satisfied moan. Before you could fully immerse yourself in the show, you felt a firm grip on your arm.

You turned to find Billy’s face inches from yours, his expression a mix of anger and something darker. His eyes were stormy, the tension radiating from his so thick, you could have cut it with a knife. Without waiting for a response, he roughly tugged you through the crowd, ignoring the curious stares and murmurs from partygoers. Despite your protests, he didn’t slow down, his grip on your arm unrelenting as he guided you toward the back of the house. The fresh night air hit you, sharp and clear after the stifling heat of the party.

His strides were purposeful, seething with frustration. He dragged you along by your upper arm, away from prying eyes and ears of the party. As you reached a secluded wall, he spun you around, shoving you firmly against it. The suddenness of it made you gasp, your back hitting the wall with a jarring thud.

Billy’s eyes were fierce, the glint of anger and something deeper reflecting in them, taking your breath away at the intensity. His face was so close to yours you could feel his hot breath on your skin, his eyes boring into yours with a ferocity that was making you shift. “You think that shit is funny?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Damn it, Cherry, answer me,” he growled, his hand slamming into the rough wall beside your head, making you jump.

You could barely breathe, the pressure of his gaze squeezing the air from your lungs. With a shaky exhale, tongue heavy, you whispered, “Yes.”

Billy’s eyes burned with a combination of frustration and something else—an emotion that was hard to pin down. He kept you pinned against the wall, his face dangerously close to yours, his breath mingling with yours. The night air felt charged, every breath between you feeling electric.

“So, you think it’s funny?” Billy’s voice was raw, barely controlled, his anger spilling over. “Grinding against some guy like a bitch in heat?” He spat out the words, his tone dripping with disdain. “You wanted to make me mad? Make sure I saw you with someone else?”

You scoffed then, composing yourself, trying to mask your own rising emotions behind a veil of nonchalance. You met his gaze with a defiant look, standing your ground. “Don’t be sour just because someone’s beating you at your own game,” you shot back. “All the games you play, I can play all of them too. Easily.”

He shoved you back against the wall, his anger simmering just beneath the surface but his voice turning colder, more calculated. “Oh, Cherry Baby, I don’t play games like that. If you wanted to make a statement, you’ve done it. But don’t think for a second that I’m just going to roll over and take it.” He leaned in even closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear. “And if you want to keep playing, just remember this: I don’t play fair, and I sure as hell don’t lose.” Billy’s gaze remained locked on yours, the intensity in his eyes unwavering. His anger seemed to morph into something else, something raw, primal. Without warning, he gripped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair roughly. You gasped in surprise, opening your lips just slightly as he surged forward, pressing his lips against yours in a deep, fervent kiss.

It was rough and demanding, all anger and frustration, causing your heart to thud heavily in your chest as a surge of desire shot through you. He tightened his grip on your hair, digging his other one in the flesh of your ass, pulling you against him, making you feel exactly what you were doing to him. You moaned, clawing your hands in the fabric of his silky dress shirt, a tingling sensation spreading through your core. Breathing seemed so much less important as his hand came forward, ripping the zipper of your jumpsuit down as far as it would go. You gasped against his lips, his fingers harshly squeezing the skin of your breast through the lazy red fabric. He brought his thumb up to the hardened buds, greedily pinching them between his fingers, enjoying the sounds tumbling from your lips in reply.

“You wanted to make me jealous, didn’t you?” He cooed as his fingers slipped down further, stretching the material of the jumpsuit as they found their way into your underwear. “Well, congratulations, Cherry Baby, you got my attention.” All breath fled your lungs as his fingers toyed with your clit, all thought of anyone seeing you shoved to the back of your mind. You writhed underneath him, hips helplessly bucking forward for more. Billy laughed, bastard that he was, attentively rolling your sensitive nub under his thumb. You gripped the arm that was holding your head by your hair, keeping you from moving too much, your head lolling back in pleasure.

“That feel good, hm, Cherry? Better than those little boys who don’t know how to handle you.” Despite the tight bite you had on your lip, a sound of agreement tore from your throat before you could stop it. “Could’a had this all along if you weren’t so damn stubborn.” You whined, desperately rolling your hips when he slowly sunk two of his fingers into your cunt. Billy’s gaze was glued to your face, the glossiness in your eyes, the dip in your mouth as it dropped open to spill the sounds you had been fighting to keep quiet but couldn’t hold back anymore. He curled his fingers, working himself deeper, and deeper, rubbing that spongy spot inside of you that had your stomach twitching. Out of reflex, your body tried pulling back further, trying to get away from the pleasure Billy was giving you, only with his hand and the wall caging you, there was no space for you to go. Instead, you dug your nails into his skin, yelping, as he started thrusting his fingers in and out of you, always sure to keep brushing up against that spot that he had found far too easily.

“Look at you, Cherry,” he cooed, biting your lip and pulling with a sly grin, licking the throbbing spot. “Never seen you so obedient.” Billy noted the way you melted into him, the way your body responded to his touch. He could feel the heat radiating from you, and it only fueled his ego. Just as you were about to lose yourself in the moment, tightening around him and gripping him for dear life, Billy abruptly pulled back, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest, your sound of protest instantly following.

His breath was hot against your lips as he leaned in close, a teasing smirk curling at the corners of his mouth, when your eyes snapped open at the orgasm that had been so rudely ripped from you. “Enjoying yourself, huh?” he taunted, his voice dripping with cocky arrogance. He let the question hang in the air for a moment, watching bliss and confusion flicker in your eyes. You could still feel the lingering ghost of his touch, his fingers as your mind raced to process the sudden shift in his demeanor. Before you could say anything, he straightened up, his hand slipping from your hair as he took a step back. “If you want more,” he said, his voice laced with challenge, “you’re gonna have to work for it, Cherry Baby.”

His eyes glinted with mischief, his smirk widening as he took in the sight of you, breathless and wanting. Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel, leaving you standing there against the wall, your hair a mess and clothes disheveled. As he walked away, you could still hear the echo of his laughter, leaving you with a mix of frustration and something you weren’t ready to admit yet—desire.

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Ever since you had first noticed that boys were showing an interest in you, you had made it your rule to never chase a man. It wasn’t just a rule—it was a principle. A game you didn’t play but had created, one in which you were pulling all the strings. You’d learned early on that the power lay in making them come to you, in letting them believe they were the hunters when, in reality, you were always the one in control.

Boys were easy. Flash a smile, give them just enough attention, and they’d follow you like lost puppies. It was a thrill, knowing you had them wrapped around your finger, knowing you could pull them in and push them away whenever you wanted. You’d seen too many girls let themselves get caught up, lose their sense of self in the pursuit of some boy who didn’t deserve them—Carol, for one. That was never going to be you.

But Billy Hargrove was different. He didn’t just follow the rules of the game—he rewrote them. He was infuriating, cocky, and dangerous, with a way of getting under your skin like no one else ever had. He challenged you, pushed back when others would have crumbled, and for the first time, you found yourself second-guessing your moves. The thing was, you knew Billy had his own game too, that he wasn’t like the others. He didn’t just want your attention—he wanted to see if he could make you break your own rules. And that was something you couldn’t let happen. The moment you chased him, the moment you let him think he had the upper hand, it would all be over.

So, you did what you did best. You pulled back, kept your distance, tried making him come to you. You’d seen the frustration in his eyes, the way he couldn’t quite hide his irritation when you strutted out past him in the hallways of the school without sparing him a glance, and when you, despite sitting beside him in the booth at the roller rink, refused to even allow your thighs to touch. It was satisfying, knowing you still had the power, knowing he was the one being drawn in now.

But as much as you hated to admit it, there was a part of you that couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss, his touch, about the way his lips had claimed yours with a fierceness that left you breathless. It had been a mistake to let him get that close, but fuck, it had felt good.

It had been going on for a few weeks by then, the cat and mouse thing happening between you and Billy—who was who had yet to be determined. If Tina or Carol noticed a shift in the air (they definitely did, because you and Billy had gone from close friends to not talking to friends again) they didn’t dare mention it. You had gone back to regularly joining in on group activities again, no need to hide away from Billy when now you had made it your mission to tempt him—to get him to finish what had been started.

It was a late afternoon, the summer sun just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the town. Carol and Tommy had broken up again, causing her to call an emergency meeting at Benny’s Burgers with you and Tina. As usual, the diner was busy, filled with the hum of conversations and the steady clattering of dishes. You were sitting in a booth near the back, casually sipping on a chocolate milkshake, fingers busying themselves by flicking through a magazine. You were trying to entertain yourself as Carol went on and on about what had occurred to make her break up with Tommy for the umpteenth time, while Tina, pretending to listen, was attempting to eye-fuck the new waiter.

Eyeing the clothing articles that Harper’s Bazaar deemed to be the fashion statements of the summer, you felt a sudden shift in the air, even before looking up. Perhaps it was the way Carol slowed her yapping, her orbs flicking between you and the door, or perhaps it was merely in the way a tingling sense enveloped your back that let you know that something particular—or someone—had entered. When you glanced toward the door, your heart sank a little.

Billy had just walked in—and he wasn’t alone. He had some girl hanging from his arm, one you didn’t recognize but who looked all too pleased to be there with him. She was laughing at something he said, her hand resting on his chest as Billy began to order for them, the sight of it making your stomach twist uncomfortably. You stilled in your seat at the realization—what the fuck. Frowning, you forced your eyes back down to the magazine, pretending to be engrossed in the article about what might possibly be in trend for the coming fall, but you weren’t really reading the words, instead, an echo of confusion danced through your ear. You weren’t the kind of girl to care about what men did to entertain themselves, and you for sure weren’t the kind of girl to feel anything when seeing a man with another girl. No, you were the girl to shrug and find the next toy to busy yourself with. This wasn’t normal. He was merely a pawn in your game, a challenge—a fleeting amusement, nothing more. So why the fuck did the sight of him with another girl feel like you got punched in the gut?

You flicked through the pages of the magazine with more force than necessary, trying to push the irritation out of your mind. But the laughter from their booth kept pulling you back, each giggle like a tiny needle pricking at your carefully maintained indifference. You clenched your jaw, determined not to let this get to you. If Billy wanted to parade some girl around to get a reaction out of you, fine. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. You were better than that.

Still, you couldn’t resist a glance in their direction, just to see. The girl was hanging on his every word, her expression adoring and Billy was soaking it up, a smug smile playing on his lips. He was putting on a show, and you hated that it was beginning to work—you glared back at the magazine.

Tina, noticing the shift in your mood, nudged your foot under the table. “Cherry, are you even listening?”

You looked up, blinking. “Sorry, what?”

Carol’s eyes narrowed at you before she raised a brow and folded her arms in front of her chest. “What’s up with you? You’ve been staring at that magazine like it insulted your mother.”

Keeping your expression nonchalant, you pursed your lips and gave her a once-over that you knew would make her feel some type of way. “Literally just waiting for you to talk about anything else than the mess you call a relationship, Care. It’s making me want to bash my head in.”

You kept your gaze steady on the ginger—a color she had only attained after you had dyed your hair for the first time—watching as her expression darkened. “God, Cherry,” she hissed, her voice low and venomous. “You’ve been acting like such a bitch lately, you know, even more so than usual. What the hell is your problem?”

The retort was already on the tip of your tongue, sharp and cutting, ready to slice through whatever delusions Carol had created in her mind. But before you could say anything, Tina interjected, her voice loud and cheerful—far too cheerful.

“There’s a baseball game coming up this weekend, I was thinking we should go! Support Billy and Tommy—and Steve. Everyone is going.”

“Sure,” Carol rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything else, her lips pressed into a thin line as she turned her attention back to the menu. You forced yourself to relax, to let the tension in your shoulders ease as you leaned back in your seat, acting as if the exchange had barely registered. Pushing up from the table with a sigh, your irritation shimmered just beneath the surface. “I’m going to the bathroom,” you muttered, not really caring if Tina or Carol heard you. You needed a moment away from the bickering—and away from Billy and his new arm candy.

As you walked across the diner, the new waiter caught your eye, giving you an awkward wave and a hopeful smile. You didn’t bother acknowledging him with anything more than a roll of your eyes, the heels clicking purposefully against the linoleum as you strolled past the counter—past the dumfounded waiter—and into the hallway where the bathrooms were located. Men, you thought with disdain, the thought punctuated by a shake of your head.

Shutting the door behind you, you leaned over the sink, turning the cold water on and wetting your hands. You brought them up to your neck, the coolness soothing the warmth that had crept up your skin. You stared at your reflection, noting the slight smudge of eyeliner beneath one eye. You grabbed a tissue and carefully wiped it away, then reached into your bag for your lipstick, reapplying it with a steady hand.

As you sprayed a bit of perfume onto your neck, the scent wafting around you, you considered the girl Billy had walked in with. She was pretty, in a generic sort of way—blonde, bubbly, and probably all too eager to please him. If that’s what Billy wanted, if he wanted someone who would hang on his every word and laugh at all his jokes, then he could have her—should, in fact. You let out a small huff, shaking out your hair as if to rid yourself of the thought.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, Billy was there, his tall frame casting a shadow over you. He had that familiar cocky smirk on his face, the one that usually made every girl in Hawkins weak in the knees. Without missing a beat, he ducked in, going straight for a kiss, his hand already at your waist, trying to shove you back into the bathroom like it was a done deal.

Your hand shot up, slapping over his mouth, shoving him aside with a strength that caught him off guard. "Go do that with your bimbo," you sneered with a disgusted scoff, pushing past him.

As you strutted down the hallway, you heard Billy chuckle behind you, low and taunting. He drawled, his voice dripping with that infuriating arrogance, "You’ll come around. They always do." You didn’t bother to slow down or turn around. Instead, you simply lifted your hand, throwing him the finger without even looking back.

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The taste of the guy’s lips had felt wrong from the start. His mouth was too soft, too eager, like he was trying to prove something with every clumsy kiss. You barely felt anything but the wrongness of it all, your mind somewhere else—somewhere it definitely shouldn’t be, but had been continuously venturing to, nonetheless. Billy’s face kept flashing in your thoughts, his arrogant smile, the way his eyes darkened when he was pissed off or amused, how he always seemed to know exactly what buttons to press to get under your skin.

You groaned inwardly, your fingers tightening on the guy’s shoulders as he moved his lips along your neck, his hands wandering aimlessly. It was no use. His touch felt like nothing but static, a pale imitation of what you really wanted—craved—to feel. With each second that passed, the irritation building inside you grew stronger, Billy’s image refusing to fade.

The guy pulled back, probably expecting you to look pleased or at least interested—instead, you shoved him off, cutting off whatever lame attempt at a compliment he was about to offer. His expression twisted into one of confusion, maybe even a bit of hurt, but you didn’t care enough to apologize. You didn’t even bother remembering his name, so what was the point?

“Uh, everything okay?” he asked, awkwardly wiping his mouth as if he’d done something wrong.

“Yeah, fine,” you muttered, not even sparing him a second glance as you picked up your purse, brushing some stray grass and dirt from the artificial leather. “Just… not in the mood anymore.” It was a lie, of course. You were in the mood—just not with him. You left him there, standing under the bleachers, probably (definitely) wondering what the hell had just happened. You weaved through the crowd, shoving past people already settled in their spots, ignoring their annoyed mutters and irritated glares. Every step you took seemingly only made you angrier, the frustration bubbling up inside you like a boiling pot about to overflow.

When you finally reached Tina and Carol, they were still lost in their conversation, drinks in hand, barely noticing your return. You dropped down beside Tina with a huff, pushing your sunglasses back onto your nose and crossing your arms, glaring out at the field without really seeing anything.

Carol glanced at you, sensing the tension radiating off you like a storm about to break. “You okay?” She asked, her voice laced with genuine concern, which only made you feel worse.

“Fine,” you snapped, harsher than you had intended. Then, softer, “just…annoyed.” Annoyed wasn’t even half of it. You were furious, not just at Billy but at yourself. Furious because no matter how much you tried to push him out of your mind, he was always there, lurking like a shadow you couldn’t escape—like a pesky little roach you couldn’t get rid of. And it wasn’t like you cared about what he did, who he was with, or what kind of games he played. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care. 

Huffing once more, you furrowed your brows at the lively baseball field below you. Billy and Steve, both visibly sweaty and visibly competitive were shouting downright hostile at each other—it was perhaps more entertaining than the actual game. Every throw, every strike, every aggressive look they exchanged spoke volumes about their mutual dislike for one another. You could almost smell the hatred wafting through the air, stronger than it was when they would encounter each other in the hallways, for sure.

It hit you then, so forcefully you ripped the glasses from your face, startling Tina so much so that she yelped. Checkmate.

“Jeez!” She exclaimed, frown appearing on her face as she used the straw to swirl around the blue slushie in her cup. “What is up with you today?”

“You know what, Tee? I’m suddenly feeling so much better,” you grinned, checking the watch on Tina’s wrist to get an idea of how much longer the team would be playing. Hurriedly, you shouldered your purse, glossy and red, just how you liked it. “I have business to attend to, see you later,” you winked and pushed back through the crowd, not giving your friends a chance to question your hasty escape. When the final whistle blew and the game came to an end, you had already positioned yourself in the hallway in front of the guys’ locker room. Your hair was fixed, lipstick applied perfectly, a spritz of perfume here and there—you were ready.

When Steve Harrington finally emerged, freshly showered and looking relaxed in his casual—preppy—attire, his confusion at seeing you there was immediate. You caught his eye, flashing him a sly grin. “Steve.”

“Hey, Red, long time no see,” Steve said, nodding to you in greeting, his tone friendly but not missing the cadence of curiosity.

“Yeah…” You leaned against the wall nonchalantly, giving him a little shrug. “Carol was bitter and threatened us not to talk to you.”

Steve’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Since when do you listen to Carol of all people?”

You bit your lip playfully, letting a glint of mischief dance in your eyes as you shrugged again. “Well, I’m here, talking to you, so…” You grinned.

Steve’s expression shifted from confusion to intrigue. He looked you up and down with a raised eyebrow, clearly uncertain about your sudden interest. “So, what’s the deal then? Anything specific bringing you here?”

You pushed off the wall, stepping closer to him with a confident, seductive sway in your walk. “Saw you play and thought we could catch up. Maybe over milkshakes and fries?”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback by your direct offer. He gaped at you for a moment, a mix of surprise and disbelief playing across his face. “R-right now?” he stammered, clearly caught off guard.

You gave him a playful but insistent smile, leaning in a bit closer. “Yeah, why not?” Tongue peeking out to lick your grinning lips, it lingered between your teeth for a second. “I’m in the mood for something different, and I thought you might be up for it.”

Steve shook his head slightly as if trying to clear the haze from his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool despite his evident intrigue. “Well, this is…out of the blue, I gotta admit. I wasn’t expecting, uh—”

“So, you’re saying no?” You blinked at him, pulling your brows up in a pout—God, guys.

“Yes!” Shot out at the look you were giving him, until his mind seemed to catch up with what he had been asked. “I mean no! No, I’m not saying no! I mean—I would love to.”

You chuckled, twirling a strand of your hair around your fingers. “You’re so cute sometimes, you know that?”

Steve’s smile gradually widened, his shock fading into a more relaxed, captivated grin. “You know what? Suddenly I’m starved for milkshakes and fries. Lead the way.”

With that, you reached out and took Steve’s hand in yours. His grip was warm and firm and just in time. Right as you were beginning to move away from the locker room door, a familiar figure emerged. You turned slightly and saw Billy Hargrove exiting, his gaze immediately locked onto you and Steve. His eyes narrowed as he saw the way your fingers were intertwined with Steve’s, seeming momentarily stunned, his usual confident stride faltering just a bit. Not ceasing your walking, you couldn’t resist but wink at Billy with a sly smile, letting your gaze linger just a second too long before you turned back to Steve and giggled.

There was no need for you to turn around to know Billy’s expression had shifted from surprise to annoyance, a tight clench in his jaw as he watched you and Steve walk away. There was fury and confusion battling behind his eyes, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of any further acknowledgment. Instead, you pulled Steve closer, allowing him to lead you to his car, with confident, deliberate strides. “Let’s get out of here,” you said, your tone light and carefree.

“Let’s,” he agreed, the corners of his mouth upturned happily.

You gave him a cheeky smile as you slid into the passenger seat. As Steve drove off, you glanced back one last time, finding Billy standing in the parking lot, a cigarette burning between his lips, illuminating the furious gaze through the rearview mirror. You couldn’t help but smirk as you sank into the seat with satisfaction in your veins. The engine humming beneath you, your mind wandered. The night was still young, there was no point in letting it go to waste. You thought back to the usual spot where the team gathered after a big win—at least from what Tina had told you—a place everyone knew well. It was the new diner near the roller rink. Well, new by Hawkins’ standards, even if it had been around for a decade.

You glanced at Steve, your fingers tapping idly on the dashboard. “Hey, Steve, would you mind heading to Bop ‘n’ Burger instead of Benny’s? I’ve been craving their fries.”

Steve shot you a curious look, his brow furrowing slightly. “You know the whole team’s probably gonna be there, right?”

You shrugged casually, not letting on that you were well aware of that fact—and that this was precisely the reason you wanted to go. “I don’t mind. I really want those fries.” The lie rolled off your tongue smoothly with a pleading grin, and Steve, none the wiser, nodded.

“Sure, why not?” he agreed, making a quick turn in the direction of the diner. The drive was short, the streets of Hawkins quiet as the car rolled up to the diner. The neon sign flickered above the entrance, casting a warm glow over the parking lot. You and Steve walked inside, and as you slid into the booth, you made sure to sit close to him, your thigh brushing against his. The waitress came by to take your order, and just as the menus were being collected, you heard the loud, familiar voices of the Hawkins High baseball team. They were pouring into the diner, still riding the high of their victory. Steve looked over, grinning as he greeted some of his teammates, but your attention was elsewhere.

Billy.

He walked in with the others, his gaze sweeping across the diner until it landed on you. The moment he saw you cozied up next to Steve, his expression darkened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. You smiled sweetly as if you were completely oblivious to his presence, but inside, you were reveling in the tension. You and Steve chatted for a bit, making light conversation as you nibbled on your fries. But your mind was only half on the conversation, the rest focused on timing as you tirelessly indulged in flirting—which Steve ate right up. You waited until he was getting touchier, with you playing right along with it, laughing and grinning. When his eyes fell to your lips for the first time, you took notice of it immediately, taking your chance. You leaned in, closing the distance between you and Steve, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was soft, teasing and just long enough to draw attention. You could hear the sudden murmur of voices, the shift in the diner’s atmosphere as the team took notice—then came the chant. “Harrington! Harrington!” The guys were egging him on, laughing and cheering as if this were some sort of victory lap for him.

Steve pulled back, looking both surprised and pleased, his cheeks flushing slightly under the attention. But you weren’t done yet. You glanced sideways, catching Billy’s eye—his face a mask of barely contained fury. The satisfaction of having riled him up filled you with a heady sense of triumph. Turning back to Steve, you leaned closer, your voice low and sultry. “Wanna get out of here? Maybe go somewhere more… private?”

Steve blinked at you, his grin widening as he nodded eagerly. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Without a second glance at the team—or Billy—you grabbed Steve’s hand, pulling him out of the booth and heading for the door. As you stepped out into the cool night air, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder one last time, catching the sight of Billy, his eyes burning holes into your back as you and Steve disappeared into the night.

Tonight, you were in control—and Billy knew it.

You and Steve pulled up to your house, the car coming to a smooth stop in the driveway. Steve looked over at you with a small, hopeful smile, clearly expecting the night to continue. You had played this part well, your voice sweet and full of mock surprise as you turned to him with wide eyes. “Steve, I’m so sorry,” you said, faking a wince. “I was so sure my parents wouldn’t be home, but it looks like I was wrong.” You gestured vaguely toward the house, where a light was on in the living room.

Steve’s face fell slightly, but he quickly masked it, giving you a reassuring smile. “Oh, it’s no problem. We can always take a raincheck, right?”

You nodded, flashing him a grateful smile. “Definitely. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

With a slight sigh, Steve leaned in to give you a quick, chaste kiss before pulling back. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” you replied, giving him a wave as you got out of the car. You watched him drive away, the taillights fading into the distance before you turned and headed up the steps to your front door. As you stepped inside, you saw your mother lounging on the couch, a book in her hands. She didn’t even glance up as you walked in, completely engrossed in whatever she was reading. You checked the clock on the wall—it was getting late, but you knew you had some time to kill. “Hey, Mom,” you said, your tone light and casual. “A car’s gonna pull up in like an hour. When it does, can you call me down?”

Your mother simply nodded, her eyes never leaving the page. “Sure, honey,” she replied absentmindedly.

You grinned to yourself, the excitement bubbling up inside you as you headed upstairs to your room. The plan had worked perfectly—Steve had been the perfect decoy, and now all you had to do was wait. You plopped down on your bed, grabbing a magazine from your nightstand. As you flipped through the glossy pages, your mind wasn’t really on the fashion trends or celebrity gossip. Instead, you were thinking about Billy. You had provoked him enough tonight—enough to push him over the edge.

The minutes ticked by each one dragging longer than the last. But finally, after an eternity, you heard your mother’s voice calling from downstairs.

“Honey, there’s a car outside!”

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You followed your special routine as you always did—checking your reflection, touching up the fading shade of red on your lips, fluffing your hair. All of it before you even considered taking a step down to where your mother was curiously leering at the blue Camaro waiting for you outside through the barely open blinds. You told her goodbye, saying that a friend from school was picking you up and would bring you right back. Your mother had always trusted you—trusted you to hold your own, to be strong, to make mindful, good decisions. So, even as you stepped outside the house at that late hour, she didn’t say much, merely telling you to be careful. 

Outside, the night air was thick with the humidity of a summer’s night, the streetlights casting long shadows against the pavement. And there it was—a blue Camaro parked right outside her house.

Perfect.

You sauntered toward the car, hips swaying in that complacent way that you had mastered to the T, taking your sweet, sweet time. Billy was leaned back in the driver’s seat, one hand draped lazily over the steering wheel, the other bringing a cigarette to his lips. The tip of it flared a bright orange, his sharp jaw tightening as he took another drag. He didn’t look at you. Not at first. But you felt when he did.

You reached his door and leaned down, resting your arms against the open window, tilting your head. “Aww,” you teased, voice syrupy sweet and so terribly mocking you thought you saw his eye twitch. “You came all this way for little old me?”

Billy exhaled, the smoke curling in the air between you, drifting into the warm night air. And then—finally—his head turned, his gaze locking onto yours.

There wasn’t the anger in his eyes which you had been expecting. Instead, it was flat and unreadable but no less intense. It was the kind of look that could make a girl shrink. Wilt.

You, though, only tilted your head, unbothered, amused. “What? I don’t get a hello?”

His blue eyes burned, but he stayed silent, taking another few drags of his cigarette until he flicked it away. Then— “Get in the car.” No teasing. No taunting grin. Just those three words that knocked the wind out of your smirk. You weren’t exactly expecting that. You had mentally prepared for a fight. Banter. Something to toy with before you inevitably ended up in the car anyway. But the way he said it? Like there wasn’t another option? Like he had already decided? Your pulse skipped.

For a moment.

Then, you just grinned.

You straightened up, letting your fingers drag against the frame of the window as you moved, just slow enough to make your point. Then, wordlessly, you opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat, the scent of leather, cologne and cigarettes enveloping you immediately. It was the scent of him that you had gotten to know rather well in the past year.

You kicked your boots up onto the dash, shifting in your seat, turning to face him, knowing that at any other time, he would have gripped your legs and shoved them off the dash. Now, he did nothing. Nothing, except lighting another cigarette.

He still wasn’t looking at you. But his fingers? His fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, his jaw clenching so forcefully you feared for his teeth.

You bit your lip, smothering another smirk.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

You drove for a little while until the asphalt beneath Billy’s tires shifted to gravel and dirt as you headed down a familiar road, the car kicking up dust behind you. Within a few moments, the trees cleared, and you found yourself at the spot. Your spot. The little hidden oasis away from the rest of the world. The headlights cut through the darkness, reflecting off the still water of the lake. The only sound was the hum of the engine until Billy killed it, plunging you both into a deafening silence.

You didn’t speak right away and instead took to watching him. He was still gripping the steering wheel, his jaw still set, and he still didn’t look at you. Not yet, anyway.

When the silence stretched too long for your liking, you kicked your feet back down onto the ground, let out a dramatic sigh and opened the door before stepping into the cool night air. Even the nature seemed to have quieted in your presence, except for the occasional rustle of wind shifting the leaves. You heard Billy’s door shut behind you, the soft thuds of his footsteps as he approached.  

“So?” you asked, voice low and teasing.

Billy stood a few paces behind you, hands braced on his hips. He was silent for a moment, then let out a low, humorless chuckle. “You’re a real piece of work you know that?”

You’re one to talk. Rolling your eyes, you turned, a smirk dancing on your painted lips. “Took you this long to figure it out?”

His eyes flicked down your body, slow and deliberate, before snapping back to your face. He stepped forward, closing the distance. “You think you’re real funny, huh? Throwin’ yourself at fucking Harrington just to piss me off?”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Who said that was about you?”

Again, his jaw clenched, his blue orbs narrowing as the tension between you thickened—suffocatingly so. Without warning, he closed the gap between the two of you, standing so close you could feel his breath on your lips, taste it, taste him.

Whatever game you two had been playing, Billy had lost the second he had pulled up to your house. You knew it and he knew it too.

“You wanted me to come after you?” Billy growled, his voice deep and raw, his eyes blazing with heat. “To sit there and watch you shove your tongue down Harrington’s throat just to get a rise out of me?”

Your pulse spiked, but you held your ground and instead of giving in, you merely shrugged. “Looks like it worked.”

Billy laughed though it was devoid of even a speck of humor. “You think this is funny?”

Again, you shrugged, digging the tip of your boot into the dirt below, trying to act nonchalant even as your heart began hammering in your chest. “Shows me you care, doesn’t it?”

That was the breaking point.

Billy’s hands were suddenly on your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips crashed onto yours, angry, desperate, raw. There was nothing soft about it. It was a collision, no longer a game but a fight neither of you were willing to lose. You gasped as his hands wandered, digging into the flesh of your hips, but you kissed him back just as hard, your nails scraping down his back. It wasn’t gentle and definitely wasn’t sweet. It was heat and fire and all you had been craving for weeks.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless, lips swollen and hearts pounding. Billy gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at him as his eyes searched yours, intense and raw. “You win, Cherry,” he muttered, voice thick. “Happy now?”

You stared at him, your lips still tingling from the kiss. There was a rush of adrenaline as his nose brushed yours, eyes latching onto yours only to find his pupils blown. A slow smile spread on your lips, your hand wandering from his back into his locks. You drew your brows together, giving him the best doe-eyes you managed. “We were playing a game?”

Billy’s hands returned to your waist, his grip tighter this time and his breath hot on your skin. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing over yours once more. It was different this time. There was no anger, no frustration. There was something else—something heavier and deeper and scarier.

“You think you’re so goddamn clever, don’t you?” Billy’s murmured, his voice low as his lips brushed against yours.

You met his glare, chin lifted and smirking as you hushed, “I know I am.”

Billy chuckled, shaking his head slightly as his hands tightened around you. “You drive me fucking insane, you know that, Cherry Baby?”

You didn’t flinch. You threw it back at him. “Good. Now you know how it feels.”

Billy snapped. His hands were in your hair, his lips crashing against yours with a ferocity that left no room for doubt. No teasing. Just need. You moaned, melting into him as his hands moved over your body, grabbing fistfuls of your curves with a satisfied hum. You kissed him back with everything you had, because now, now it wasn’t merely a game anymore. It was something else entirely.

Billy shoved you back against his car, a gasp flying from your mouth as the cool metal pressed into your back. Without hesitation, you let him lift you onto the hood of the car, your body arching into his. Billy popped open the fly of your pants with quick fingers, shimmying the material down your thighs before his hands returned to your body, sliding you forward until your core pressed up against his denim-clad thigh.

You breathed out a moan, head falling back as he moved your body against his, grinding you against his burly thigh, the muscle pressing sinfully against your clit. His lips fell to your neck, biting and sucking and teasing in a way that was purely and wholly and wickedly Billy Hargrove. One hand moved from your hips over your body, trailing the flesh of your breast before finding the cherry locks of your hair and pulling. His other hand slipped between your thighs, rough thumb finding your sensitive nub through the dampening fabric of your panties. You moaned, brows screwing together at the touch.

“That what you wanted, Cherry Baby?” He murmured against your throat, nibbling at the skin with a cocky smirk.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip to keep from begging him to slip beneath the constricting fabric, instead you huffed a breath that wasn’t half as annoyed as you wished it to be. “Not even close.”

“No?” He questioned with a chuckle, clearly feeling your tensing legs around his hand as he thumbed at your clit.

You breathed through the moan threatening to give you away, shaking your head. “Can’t see what all the fuss is about.”

Before you could blink, his face was hovering in front of yours, a glint in his eyes that made the pit of your stomach tingle in an unfamiliar way. His blue orbs trailed your face, his finger drawing quick, tight circles on your panties, making your legs twitch in an attempt to keep them from instinctively shutting. Billy kissed you then, tongue slipping into your mouth, stealing whatever breath you had left.

When he pulled away, he was smirking. “Careful what you ask for, Cherry Baby.”

“Awfully full of yourself, aren’t you?” You breathed, hand pressing into the hood of his car beside you, looking for anything to take a hold of, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of you gripping him.

He hummed, grinning. “Just taking a page out of your book.” Before you had any chance to react, he ripped your panties down your legs with such force, he almost pulled you off the hood. “Lie back.”

You huffed. “Bossy, are we?”

His fingers were tangled in the back of your hair in the blink of an eye, pulling your head back to look up at him. “Let me make something clear to you, Cherry. You do as I say, or you can get those skimpy fucking panties back on and I’ll drive you home, you got that?” His eyes flitted over your expression, watching your face contort in what he could only explain as a mixture of seething anger and a fucking pout that let him know you were going to give in. “Now, you wanna finish this?” When you nodded, a sly smirk took over his face before he brought your face to his for another kiss. “Good,” he breathed after pulling away. “Then shut your mouth for once in your life and lie back, Cherry.” 

Huffing a little, you did as you were told, settling against the cool metal of the blue Camaro, the sting of the cold making you hiss in surprise. Billy was settled between your thighs, hitching them around his hips as he leaned in and pressed a kiss just above your bellybutton. You watched him as you trailed his lips up your body, nibbling and sucking on the skin as though he was the one savoring the feeling. His hands slid up along your bare side, teasing fingers dipping beneath the fabric of your top, your stomach clenching in anticipation. With one fluid movement, he slipped the fabric from your head, discarding it somewhere beside the car. You had half a mind to remind him that the ground was dirty and thus throwing your clothes down, was not okay—until he bit your nipple, that is.

You gasped, arching upward, feeling his teeth through the lacy material of your bra. With furrowed brows and an open mouth, your eyes flickered down only to find him already looking at you, grinning around your breast as though he knew exactly how he was making you feel. That bastard.

His hand slid underneath your back, urging you to lift upward just a little before he unclasped your bra blindly, pulling the pesky material away as though its mere existence was insulting him. You were left butt-naked in the middle of the woods—and you didn’t care one fucking bit, not when Billy was bringing his mouth back down, warm tongue licking and sucking your hardened buds back into his mouth.

You couldn’t help the little whine that tumbled from your lips, your eyes falling shut as he played with your body as if it belonged to him. Torturously and deliciously. Wet from his mouth, the gentle breeze made you gasp at the sudden sensation.

Billy slipped further down your body, hands melting down your curves, your thighs and the roundness of your ass, before he pulled you forward to the edge of the hood.

“Tell me, baby,” he hushed, dipping between your legs and placing a kiss to the dip of your thigh as his blue orbs found yours, “are you sweet like cherries?” Within seconds his arms wrapped around your thighs, eyes piercing yours as he tilted forward and brought his tongue to your center.

The suddenness of the warm and wet muscle made you gasp, legs tensing around his head. You didn’t know what you had been expecting—though whatever it was, it wasn’t this. When you thought of Billy with another girl, you thought of no foreplay at all, you thought of a selfish man, selfishly exploiting women’s bodies for his selfish pleasures. It was the same thing you had been doing to men for years before he had shown up in Hawkins.

Perhaps he was still being selfish even now, because with how desperately he moved against you, tongue slipping through your folds and groaning against you, he was more content than you would ever have thought him to be. Not that you were complaining.

He was tasting you like he needed to make up for all the times you had denied him. You moaned, hands diving into his hair, gripping his curls in a tight fist. There was a slight prickling sensation as you moved against him, the stubble of his mustache gliding over your skin.

Appearing as blissfully as you felt, he dipped his head down further, nestling his tongue inside as though he had made it his mission to lap you dry, to take everything you were ready to give. He drew his tongue from your hole to the very tip of your center, curling it around your clit before enclosing it with glistening lips and sucking. Moaning, you tried moving against him, trying to get more of what he was offering, but his burly hands held you locked tightly against the hood of his car, making any attempts at moving futile.

With his gaze locked onto yours in a pointed stare, that told you exactly he didn’t appreciate you trying to grind against him, he slipped one of his hands from your thigh, slipping two fingers into your snug walls. He was gentle at first, feeling around the plushness of your cunt before he slid in deeper and deeper, and you arched. He pressed forward with his fingers, massaging against the spot inside of you that had your teeth clamping down onto your lip.

Fuck.

For a mere second, he pulled away from you, breathing heavily, his eyes shimmering with something you couldn’t possibly put into words. He leaned over you, pressing a feathery kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your nose before brushing against your ear, hushing words so softly you almost didn’t grasp them, “I want to watch you cry for me.”

Gone was all gentleness as he latched his mouth back onto your clit, sucking and licking and enjoying each sound he managed to draw from you, relishing it, reveling in it. His fingers moved harder, more insistently. Faster, until he could feel your walls clenching and your legs tensing around him.

“Good girl,” he hummed, feeling your body throb for him before he reattached his mouth, smirking.

Your legs shook, clamping shut around his head as far as it was possible, as you lifted your back off the hood, trying to pull him impossibly closer, moaning with no care for who might hear. Orgasm subsiding with Billy working you through the waning zips of pleasure, you settled back against his Camaro, brows furrowing as the sensation of his lips was becoming far too sensitive.

“Billy,” you gasped, trying to close your legs but he merely wrapped his arms around your thighs and pushed them further apart—holding them open. “Billy, I came, stop,” you moaned, tugging at his hair, trying to get his attention but he continued to ignore you, lips and tongue coiled around your sensitive clit. Your legs trembled at the overstimulating sensation, a whimper ripping from your throat. “Billy! Stop, stop, stop! Fuck,” you whined, hips lifting off the metal, trying to get away from him, but his arms held you locked tightly against his mouth. You cried out, pushing at his head, your legs shaking as he continued.

Something white-hot snapped through you, your back aching, legs tensing as your body went rigid with another orgasm. You cried out, voice dying into a cacophony of whimpers. Your heart was hammering, legs weak and twitching with the aftershocks as Billy finally detached his lips from your center, wet and glistening. Squeezing your eyes shut, they burned with overwhelmed tears with how forcefully your orgasm had ripped through you.

A warm palm pulled you upward against a warm, solid body, caressing over your skin with a softness you hadn’t thought possible from someone like Billy. He held you close as your arms went around his neck, his hand running up and down your leg reassuringly as he encouraged you to calm down, continuing until your shivers subsided.

“Good?” He murmured into your hair, still stroking your thighs, your side, your back.

You hummed, your eyelids feeling terribly droopy as you rested your forehead against his shoulder. “That was—” You had never come so hard in your fucking life, “—good.”

“Yeah?” You could feel him smirking as he stroked the length of your back with a reassuring palm before he pressed a kiss against your neck. “Did so good for me.”

Before you had a chance to settle, his hands were pulling at your hips, lifting you away just far enough for him to undo his leather belt and zipper. Slowly his hand reached for yours, drawing your palm against the hardness within his briefs. His forehead grazed yours, noses slightly brushing as a grin adorned the sharp features of his face. “You always have me so hard, Cherry Baby,” he hummed, lips trailing down to our neck. “Every time I see you—” his longue lapped at the sensitive spot beneath your ear, his teeth soon following, “—smell you, taste you.” A sound you could only describe as resembling a growl reverberated in his throat. “You drive me insane, Cherry. But you know that, don’t you?” He nodded to himself, lips teasing yours. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you, Cherry Baby?” Billy tutted, one hand returning to your thighs, fingers finding the aching spots where he had gripped you earlier before digging back in, drawing a gasp from your lips. “You aren’t a good girl are you, Cherry. No, you’re fucking filthy.”

You felt it then, the hardness against your naked thighs as he guided himself against your sore pussy. The tip of his cock parted your lips, trailing from your seeping hole to your oversensitive button, making you flinch with a surprised squeal.

“Cherry Baby, you’re dripping for me,” Billy groaned, circling your clit once more, smirking slyly at the uncontainable tremble of your thighs he received in response. “Poor baby.” Amusement tinted his voice, cadence drawn and condescending. “It’s all achy, isn’t it? All for me. Could have made it all better so long ago if you hadn’t been such a bitch about it.”

Bitch. You drew back at that, frowning at his words but Billy remained smiling. Before you knew what you were doing, your hand had lifted, ready to strike him. His hands caught your wrist not a second later, and with one final tsk, he plunged his cock into you to the hilt. You moaned, nails digging into his shoulders at the sudden intrusion. There was a burn as the size of him stretched you, though the blissful tingle in the depth of your pussy, where his member grazed your walls had you holding onto him in pleasure.

“Say thank you, baby. I’m making the ache go away, aren’t I, honey?” Billy cooed as one of his burly arms wrapped around your hip, the other crossing your back to your shoulder, bringing you impossibly closer to him. “What did I tell you?”

When you remained silent, he pulled back and rutted back into you with one forceful thrust, making you cry out, your eyes squeezing shut. “Thank you, Billy.” The whine left your mouth pathetically, pleasure burning in your lower belly as Billy continued to rut into you so impossibly deep that you felt the effects of his thrust coursing through your legs to the tips of your toes.

“Fuck,” Billy cursed, pushing into you once again until the tip of his cock hit the deepest part of you. You gasped, the pleasure too much and too uncomfortable for you to stay still. “Have been wanting that pretty pussy wrapped around me since the first time I saw you.” The steady rolls of his hips turned desperate as he rutted forward harsher, pulling you to him tighter, his head dropping into the crook of your neck. You cried out as his teeth sunk into your neck, his thrust loud and filthy in the night air as your body rocked with every single one. He shifted one of his arms, his hand creeping between your bodies before his thumb landed on your sore clit.

“No,” you protested weakly, your hand clutching his wrist as he drew quick circles on your pulsing nerves. “Billy—’s too much, hurts.”

“Shh,” he hushed, hand staying between your legs even as you strained to push him off. “Shh, baby, ‘s gonna feel so good,” he murmured, pinching your clit once before resuming his quick little circles, that had you trying to close your legs, trying to force him away. There was a burning in the pit of your stomach, low and hot and so fucking overwhelming that tears were once more gathering on your lashes. “There we go,” Billy cooed, fingers continuing their strokes as your legs drew up further, thighs shaking. It happened within a second—the burning sensation spread through your body, tingles coursing throughout every limb as your orgasm snapped through you. “There we go, honey, fuck—” His hips stuttered as you clenched around him, eyes shut tightly as he drew out your orgasm with every rut of his hips. Billy drew back, slipping out of you as his hand, stained with your wetness, wrapped around his cock, finishing himself off with quick jerks of his hand. A deep groan sounded in the back of his throat as white ropes of cum squirted from his tip, his member twitching satisfied within his grasp.

Still partially hard, Billy stepped back up to you, eyes glued to the glistening mess he had made between your thighs. As if transfixed by the sight, his hand crept forward as he let his pointer run through your folds. He bumped against your swollen bundle of nerves, causing you to twitch away from his. Billy grinned down at you at that, doing it again just out of sheer amusement, earning a whine from you as you shoved at his hand. “No—"

“Ask me nicely, Cherry Baby.”

“Please,” you breathed out, shaking your head. “Please, I can’t—”

Billy shushed you, arms wrapping around your frame before you were pressed up against him. His lips found yours, not tame or nice but wild and messy and possessive. His tongue slid into your mouth, free hand falling to your chin as he held you in place for his pleasure, his taking.

“Let’s get you dressed again, huh, honey?”

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You sat in the passenger seat, wrapped in Billy’s jean jacket, your legs pulled up onto the light faux leather. The windows were getting foggier with every moment spent sitting beside each other in silence. Neither of you had spoken a word after getting re-dressed and slipping out of the cold air back into the Camaro. Billy lit a cigarette, the tip flaring in an orange glow as he brought it between his lips. He didn’t look at you, eyes trained to his left and he looked so casual, so careless as though he hadn’t just spent the last hour giving you the best orgasm of your life. It vexed you somehow, how comfortable he was—and you couldn’t help the thought that crept up in the back of your mind, that all of his ease was because he had finally gotten what he wanted. No need to make an effort now that he had had you.

You leaned your head back against the window, watching him from the corner of your eye as the silence stretched on between you. Your teeth clenched, nails picking at skin on your cuticles as your heart stuttered at the thought of having been used by him.

“So,” you spoke up finally, voice far too casual for what you were actually feeling, “that’s it then?”

Billy glanced at you, one brow raised. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged, but your stomach was twisting. “I mean, I guess that’s what you wanted, right? Another notch. Congrats.”

He blinked, then scoffed, shaking his head. “Are you seriously starting a fight right now?”

“I’m just saying,” you snapped, defensive anger curling through your words, “I’ve seen the way you go through girls, Billy. It’s like a revolving door. So excuse me if I’m not exactly booking a date for round two.”

His jaw tightened, cigarette clenched between his fingers. He turned to you fully now, irritation flickering across his face, but something else too—something softer beneath the usual fire. “You really think I’d chase your ass all over Hawkins just to fuck you once and dip?”

You crossed your arms, heart pounding. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone did.”

Billy exhaled sharply, flicking ash out the window. Then, finally, he looked at you. Really looked at you. And his voice, when it came, was low and rough but uncharacteristically steady. “You were never a game to me, Cherry.” Your chest tightened. “I mean it,” he continued, softer now, like it hurt to admit. “You were always... I don’t know. Untouchable. And yeah, maybe I was pissed you kept pretending not to like me. Like I wasn’t an option.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “But I like you. Always have.”

“I’m scared,” you muttered, the words falling out before you could stop them. You stared at your hands, picking at the fraying edge of Billy’s jacket. “I’ve never done anything like this before. Not the sex—I’ve done that. But this… whatever this is.”

Billy was quiet for a moment, then murmured, “Yeah, me neither.”

That made you laugh—quiet, humorless. “We’re a mess.”

He smirked. “No shit.”

You glanced sideways at him. “I don’t want a relationship.”

“Didn’t say you had to have one.”

“I’m just saying, I’m not good at all that couple crap.”

Billy nodded slowly. “Never thought about it much.”

You paused. “We could keep fucking though.”

His head turned to you so fast it was almost comical. “Exclusively,” he said without missing a beat, voice sharp.

You raised your brows. “Jealous much?” He didn’t deny it, just looked at you, eyes dark and serious. You smirked. “Fine. Exclusively. But I want you to take me out, too.”

Billy narrowed his eyes. “That sounds like a date.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not,” you said, playful glint in your eye. “It’s... exclusively fucking, with occasional food.”

His lip curled into a grin. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

You leaned your head back again, a smile tugging at your lips. “Takes one to know one, Hargrove.”

He took another drag from his cigarette and shook his head, but he was smiling too now and even if neither of you said the word for what this was, the air between you felt different, like something had finally settled. Like maybe, just maybe, you had stopped running.

[fladurblegon]

love BDSM ( buying dumb sht for myself )

[clarkent]

me @ 10

me @ 30

[kaynothanks]

hello! i’m not sure if you’re active on here anymore but I do love your work!! hardly anyone gets Billy’s character right and you do it so well!!

I haven’t been very active lately because University is kicking my ass but thank youuuu!!!

[kaynothanks]

anyone interested in a 23k word Billy Hargrove fic?? Because i might just have one sitting finished on my laptop…

[venusbyline]

i can fix him (no really i can)

[tragicbutpretty]

In my dreams

[sinflowersugar]

How many times or how long should I look at this before my brain gets it and figures out that I want to, need to, dream about this?

[songbirdstyles]

when i kissed the teacher.

summary: the one man you want more than anything is the one man you can’t have - your english professor.

warnings: teacher/student relationship, age gap (implied), f receiving oral, whole lotta smut, whole lotta feelings, whole lotta angst

word count: 14.7k (strap in)

song inspo.: when i kissed the teacher - abba

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[moonchildstyles]

pomegranate

pomegrante part one: harry and y/n are roommates and she doesn't want him to feel lonely

wordcount: 14.2k+

—————

Harry's brows knitted together as he lifted his eyes from the avocado he was slicing, eyes flitting to the television from where he stood at his kitchen island. Truthfully, he didn't know why he kept watching this show when he never agreed with any of the contestants' decisions. More often than not, he came away frustrated when he watched these singles fumble budding relationships in favor of the near-mythical 'something better' they were convinced was out there. He couldn't understand why they prioritized sex with someone they didn't even know existed yet over someone right in front of them, that was more than enough. 

Shaking his head when he saw another shirtless, spray-tanned man with a head of permed curls on the top of his head pull a beautiful girl to the side for a "chat",  Harry directed his attention back to the strokes of the knife under his hand. His sushi bake would be out of the oven soon and he needed to get all of his fix-ins in order before the timer ran out. 

Just as he stowed away his slices of avocado and started on the edamame pods he planned on salting and marinating, the humming of the garage door rolling up rumbled through the house. A slight smile touched at his cheeks, already anticipating the clicking of heels he would no doubt hear before the door leading from the garage to the kitchen would be swung open with a huff. 

(Y/N) had been on a date tonight, and there was no way it had gone well if she was already home. Only an hour away didn't make for a particularly fun night. 

As expected, only moments after the garage had been closed and he heard the slam of her car door, (Y/N) trudged in from the extension with a tired expression on her face. 

"Hey, H," she sighed, already bending over to take her shoes off despite barely making it onto the tile of the kitchen floor.

"Hi, (Y/N)," he greeted, turning around with his avocado slices left behind, "Bad night?" 

He didn't have to see her face to know she was rolling her eyes. 

"The worst." She stood up to her full height—sans high heels, of course—with a flick of her hair. "I should've just stayed home with you. I wouldn't have been bored to near tears with you." 

For a second, Harry felt his heart sitting in his throat. Did she have any idea what it did to him when she talked like that—joked like that? Years into this friendship with no shortage of her sweetened comments, he doubted she did. He just hoped that she didn't notice his cheeks reddening and the way his hands suddenly didn't know what to do. 

"'M sorry," he murmured, "Was he nice at least?" 

(Y/N) shrugged, the silk straps of her top shifting over her smooth shoulders. "Nice enough—he just likes talking about himself, I think." 

Harry's lips thinned at her comment. He couldn't imagine being anything but the best listener for (Y/N); who wouldn't want to hear everything that was going on in her head and the piles of stories, however mundane, she could share? 

"Well, unless you're too tired, we could watch our show? Dinner will be ready soon if y'were still hungry." 

It was the way she seemingly inflated, light in her eyes with her hands brought to her chest all to match the bubbly smile on her lips, that had his heart springing in his chest. 

"You'd share your dinner with me?" 

You can have everything of mine, as long as you keep looking at me like that.

A mild smile curled his lips in hopes of concealing everything bubbling underneath his skin. "Of course. 'S a salmon sushi bake, if that sounds any good to you." 

"That sounds so good, H. You're the best, thank you." 

Her smile was dazzling when she turned it on him. Thank god he had set his knife down, or he would have lost a couple of fingers at this point. 

This time, he couldn't shake the smile that bloomed over his lips, however sheepish it was. "Of course—um, thank you." 

A peal of laughter left her lips as she traipsed out of the kitchen, heels in hand. "You're so sweet. I'm gonna change, but I'll be right back!" 

As if in a swirl of cherry blossoms and white lace, (Y/N) was gone. Along with her went the sparks that flooded his bloodstream and tremors in his fingers. 

God, he'd have thought knowing her since university days he would be used to her at this point. It was as if becoming roommates those couple of months ago did the opposite of acclimating him to her presence. He wasn't sure there was anything about her—the way she looked, the way she acted, the way she talked—that didn't hold even a bit of magic in his eyes. 

The sound of the oven timer going off brought Harry back to real life. Now that he was planning on sharing this dinner with (Y/N), he wanted to ensure everything was perfect. One of his favorite things about living with her was being able to take care of her through simple things like cooking dinner or making coffee in the morning. Every night she went out on a date or took a night off to go out for a girls night, he was there to get the rundown of her time away and feed her toast and water to lessen the blow of the morning hangover as much as he could. He was there for any and everything—even if he wasn't necessarily in the mood to hear about her feelings for another. He would rather be on her side even if she was on someone else's arm, than not be there at all. 

All while (Y/N) was readying herself for a night in with Harry, he was focusing on his knife strokes and mixing the different sauces to be drizzled over the bake. By the time she emerged with a set of pajamas on and her hair twisted out of her face, Harry had crafted the perfect dinner to be shared over an episode of their tropic reality dating show. 

He didn't wait for her before he was putting together her plate, dressed the way he knew she liked, sheets of nori off to the side along with a pair of chopsticks he taught her how to use years ago. 

"There's extra in the kitchen if y'want more," he murmured as he passed the plate to her hands, taking the spot on the couch at her side. 

"This looks so good, H," she beamed, looking at him with something he liked to think of as affection in her eyes, "Thank you again, really. You're already making my night so much better." 

"Good," he swallowed, dropping his eyes to the tip of her nose, "'M glad I could—um—make y'happy."

He could have cringed at the sound of his fumbling words, but that was only cut off when (Y/N) shot him a beaming smile and gave him a hug in the form of wrapping her arm around his own and resting her head on his shoulder for a lingering moment. 

"Wait! Wasn't he paired with Amber an episode ago?"

(Y/N)'s bubbled outrage was the perfect cover to the way his heart had landed in his throat. This way, he could concentrate on anything but himself and the reactions he was having over someone who was supposed to be just his friend.

"Yeah," Harry murmured, wrapping a bite of crispy rice and marinated salmon on a sheet of nori, "He pulled Lissa over for a chat at the start of this one." 

"Of course, he did," (Y/N) grumbled. 

While he would never wish anything but pure joy on her, Harry couldn't help the way his own happiness sprouted in his chest. He would never pass on a night like this.

—————

"Can I lay on you?" 

Harry blinked back to earth at the sound of (Y/N)'s voice over the familiar episode of a long ended reality show they'd already watched hundreds of times. Looking to her end of the couch, she was already slouched into the corner cushion, eyes heavy and hair tucked not a mess away from her face. 

He didn't think before he nodded his head, uncurling his legs to allow her space to lay her head. She murmured her gratitude in a sleepy voice as she stretched across the cushions to rest her head on his thighs. 

It was a familiar move, something that (Y/N) had done many times even prior to their roommate situation coming to fruition. She'd spilled to him more than once that she was a cuddly person—touchy-feely, was the way she put it—taking and loving all of the physical affection she was able to collect. Including from Harry, who always seemed to take the whole thing entirely too seriously. It was cute, she'd said, cute enough she couldn't help but to laugh. 

Tonight, she was already heavy-eyed and loose-limbed by the time she settled against his legs. Her hands were tucked under her cheek, a small barrier between his thigh and her cheek though he could still feel every ray of her warmth no matter what. 

He did his absolute best to stay relaxed despite the instinct to straighten his spine and tense his muscles at the affectionate way she laid over him. He wanted to be the best pillow he could be for her, and that wouldn't be possible if he resembled a wooden plank more than a fluffed case of feathers. 

Harry's win came in the form of a languid sigh that left her lips, (Y/N) practically going boneless against him. 

"You're the best, H," she murmured, just barely audible over the club music sounding from the television. "Thank you." 

Swallowing, he allowed his eyes to glaze over her form without her own watchful gaze on him. Hearing those words attached to that mouth from this gorgeous girl, was going to make him burst. 

"You're welcome," he whispered, urging his eyes to move on from the sliver of her midriff on display from the ruched hem of her top. 

As expected, a breathy laugh came from (Y/N). "You can touch me, you know," she said, twisting just enough to look up at him through flared lashes, "You don't have to keep your hands up like that." 

He hadn't even realized he froze with his limbs hovering over her, resting away as if there were a barrier holding him back. "Oh," he sounded, blood burning behind his cheeks, "Sorry." 

Could he be any more pathetic? Embarrassment surged through his veins. Was there any other way he could make it that much more obvious just how nervous (Y/N) made him? 

In a set of cautious movements, his hands floated back down to her form. He gently settled his palm on the cuff of her shoulder while the other rested near her head, where strands of hair brushed the stretch of his fingers. 

"It's okay," she said, the smile evident in her voice despite Harry not seeing the curl, "You're so silly, H." 

It was the way her voice trailed off, taking on a deeper octave than before, that showed him just how close she was to finding the other side of her eyelids. He instinctively began running his thumb along the ball of her shoulder, a circuit that had him skimming her soft skin with the sleeve of her top pushed out of the way. 

There was something about seeing her skin being dented by his touch, a touch that wasn't particularly strong or even rough at all. She wondered if she was able to feel the whorls of his print, the creasing of his knuckle. It was an innocent enough feeling, his hand upon her arm, but he felt his heart beginning to thump. His throat was thick enough he felt his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. 

This was another facet that only took on a life of its own, the casual intimacy that had been sparked between them now that they shared a home. Laying her head on his shoulder in a passing hug, resting her head on his lap, practically asking him to put his hands on her as she was lulled to sleep. Logically, he was sure this was supposed to get easier as it went, the more it happened the magic was supposed to lessen. But, that just didn't happen.

His heart still thumped heavily. His stomach tightened and pitted and warmed. His...  well, other parts of him appreciate the touching too, even if he resented focusing on those parts of himself.

It felt more than wrong to acknowledge his baser interests in her, not when she was such a kind and loving friend to him. If that boundary between them was meant to be crossed, there were plenty of times both during their university days and the years that followed, that gave perfect opportunities for that line to be wiped away and crossed in favor of something new. Instead, they were still just friends—best friends, even. 

You're not supposed to get hard over your best friend. Not when she was doing nothing but falling asleep in his lap. Not when she was relaxing in her own home in comfortable pajamas—even if they were comprised of a soft t-shirt and pair of shorts just a touch too small that rolled up at the hem, giving more and more skin for his eyes to feast upon. Without a bra, of course. A fact evident in the way her nipples would peak against the material. 

No, he was not supposed to be hard over that. Not to mention the glaring fact that she spent nearly every weekend on a date with someone or going out with the express purpose of having fun and meeting other people. 

There was also, of course, the most prominent issue: he's a virgin. Even if he somehow managed to see more than just a friendship in him, he would have no idea how to take care of her. (Y/N) was someone who had experienced enough physical affection that she no doubt knew what she enjoyed and what she didn't; there was little to no appeal to teaching the one you're in bed with how to do the most basic of acts.

So he would keep his distance, even if the rest of his body refused to get on the same page. 

"Are you okay?" 

(Y/N)'s mumbled voice shook Harry from his thoughts. Blinking back to the real world, she was tipping her head up to look at him with sleepy eyes. 

"Hm?" he hummed, aware of the way his hand had gone still on her arm and his bones had grown stiff. 

"Do you want me to move or something?" she murmured, "So you can get comfortable? Sorry if I made your leg fall asleep." 

Harry's skin warmed to a flushing red. Of course, he would grow restless when she was on his mind. Taking stock of his body, at least he knew he wasn't that hard; any longer in his mind and he may have had a problem. 

"'S alright, 'm alright," he rushed out, "Jus' think 'm getting tired. Sorry." 

She smiled up at him, her hair haloing around her head in his lap. "It's okay," she laughed, "Do you want to go to bed? We can keep watching tomorrow instead." 

That was what he needed at the moment: distance. Some peace and quiet and a moment to get his head on straight. "Let's go to bed," he affirmed, mimicking her soft smile. 

Her movements were lethargic as she moved off of his lap. A curling stretch had her raising her arms above her head, the hem of her top lifting just enough to show a sliver of skin above the waistline of her shorts. Harry quickly retracted his eyes, settling his gaze to his feet instead. 

Turning to him, with eyes slightly hooded and limbs languid, (Y/N) gave him a smile. "Goodnight, H," she mumbled, "Thanks for making my night better."

Collecting him in her arms, Harry didn't have to think before he was reciprocating her hug. The scent of her perfume twisted around him, stray hairs tickling the tip of his nose. Her words echoed in his head. 

He made her night. She made his life. 

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he crooned, melting into her hug for just a moment longer before unwrapping himself from her hold. "'M happy I could help." 

Her smile was sweet as she turned on her socked feet towards her bedroom. "See you in the morning." 

He watched as she pushed open her bedroom door, her eyes glanced over her shoulder at him. Her pretty, pretty eyes. 

"See you in the morning." 

With that, the night ended as she closed her bedroom door behind her. 

Though she stayed just where she was on Harry's mind. 

—————

Harry wiped his hands clean now that the sink was cleared of all dirty dishes. The clock on the stove detailed the time as eleven thirty-two, a half an hour longer than he meant to stay up tonight. But, he supposed that's what happened when he decided to take a nap instead of cleaning up the kitchen after dinner. 

Quiet voices sounded through the living room from the show running on the television though Harry didn't pay it any mind as he swept through the space. (Y/N) was out for a girls night, leaving it Harry's turn to take care of the common spaces to ensure neither of them would have to tidy anything in the morning. Plus, he didn't think it would be very nice of him to leave her stumbling over his pile of shoes when she came home after a night of drinking and crashing on a friend's couch. 

He could still see traces of her scattered about the space in the form of stray glitters from her outfit, a pair of loose hair ties left on the table by the door, right next to her usual handbag ransacked with only a few random items left in it from the essentials she pulled from it to take out on the town with her. He hoped she was having a fun night—she deserved it. 

After cleaning up and turning off the television and lights, Harry retired to his bedroom upstairs. Turning on some music through his headphones, he started on his nighttime routine. It was definitely less extensive than the one he'd seen (Y/N) do night after night, but there were a few serums and techniques he'd stolen from her—including the lavender room spray he was addicted to misting through his room before laying his head down. It turned his dreams decadently sweet, he thought. (Or it could be because he always fell asleep with (Y/N) on his mind, the lavender scent reminding him of her every night without fail).

But, this time, when he laid his head on his fluffed pillow, delicate music filtering through the space from his bluetooth speaker, Harry wasn't ready to go to bed. He had known the evening nap he took wasn't the smartest idea, leaving his limbs restless and eyes wide open. As soon as he knew (Y/N) was home safe in the morning, Harry planned on running all of the errands he'd pushed off this weekend, and a late wakeup time wasn't going to be the most productive move. 

There were only so many things he could think of doing to tire himself out. Scrolling on his phone was a no-go considering how he knew the blue-light would only urge him to stay awake, his book was too riveting to be a useful bedtime story, and going for a run this late wasn't the best option. He just needed to tire himself out. 

Fitting his bottom lip between his teeth, Harry figured there was another option. 

He wasn't quite in the mood at the moment, he could put himself there he figured. He doubted it would take much work, really. 

As if this were a laborious task, Harry kicked his comforter from his hips with a sigh. He reached for his phone on instinct, opening up a familiar application to help color his imagination. Without much ceremony, he pushed his sweats down just enough to fit his hand down his underwear. He would do this quickly, he decided; fast and hard, to put him to sleep sooner rather than later. 

It didn't take long to feel himself harden in his grasp, photos and videos of various couples wrapped around one another and those in solo situations fueling his head. His breathing grew heavy in his chest, mouth falling open as a particularly titillating video of a woman with her hands between her legs filled his screen. 

With the audio still playing, Harry's head fell back against the pillows. His eyes fell closed, a sigh leaving his lips. Pulling his hand from his length, he brought the appendage to his mouth before spitting against his palm. With his hand now slick, the wet pumps of his fist along his cock now filled the air. His toes curled in his sheets, free hand tightly gripping his phone. 

While it wasn't something he wanted to do, it was terribly easy to let his mind wander to the pretty girl that had left him home alone tonight. The fit of her dress had been hard enough to process when he was clear minded, now that was a nearly impossible task. 

The dress was new, a silky piece with embroidered flowers and thick straps cuffing her shoulders. It was tight along the bodice, cupping her breasts and curve of her waist before flaring out along her hips. The hem cut off at the mid of her thigh, leaving the length of her legs on display down to the comfortable shoes she chose for the night. (The high heels from the weekend prior had been shoved to the back of her closet for the time being, the blisters on her feet enough to have her avoiding them at the moment). 

It was a terrible, horrible, repulsive thought to have about his roommate, but Harry knew that all it would have taken was a bend of her hips and he would have seen the curve of her bottom. If he had been bold enough to look, he was sure he would have caught a glance down the bodice of her dress when she came to him to say goodbye for the night. 

His cock twitched at the reminder of her body pressed against him when she hugged him goodbye. If he was a different man and they were in a different situation, he would have grabbed her hips and held her close. He would have found the line of her panties through her dress, felt the curve of her bottom over the silk. 

He liked to imagine she would hold him back, that she would lean into the angles and muscles of his body. He could see her tipping her head, leaving him the room to drop his lips over the curve of her neck and shelf of her collarbone. 

He liked to imagine her wanting him back. That he would be able to satisfy her and take her expertly, tying her to him as he pushed his hand between her legs—or, god, his head—and brought her to the edge. What he wouldn't give to know what the melody of her voice sounded like when steeped in pleasure.

Harry pumped his hand that much harder along his length, the put of his stomach growing tight like the thick bands of muscles on his thighs. His breathing was harsh, wheezing out against his clenched teeth. 

"Fuck," he panted, hips bucking against his hand when he thought of what could have happened had he pushed (Y/N)'s dress up to her middle. Precum dribbled from his tip, streaking down to his shaft and mixing with the slick of his spit. 

He was going to cum, he could feel it. His muscles were bunched tight, eyes screwed shut with his own personal pornography projected against his eyelids. 

"Harry, are you awa—Oh! Oh my god, bye!" 

In a second, Harry snapped from the throes of pleasure just to see the tail-end of (Y/N)'s silken dress flashing out of his doorway. Behind her, his door slammed shut, cutting her words in half. 

She wasn't supposed to be home. She was supposed to be spending the night at Rue's house. What was she doing here? 

Oh, god—fuck—she's home. (Y/N) came home and saw him jerking himself off to the thought of her. Shit, fuck, shit.

His movements were fumbling and disjointed as he pulled his pants back up and attempted to wipe his hand of the evidence against a dirty t-shirt that should have been in his hamper. Jesus Christ, what the fuck was he thinking? He was so lost in his head, he didn't even hear the door open? Didn't hear her footsteps stomping up the stairs?

Was he supposed to talk to her? Or were they supposed to avoid each other until someone inevitably broke the lease and they never spoke to one another ever again? 

The latter option hurt his chest, but the former cast his body in a sweat. 

He sat on the edge of his bed, eyes trained on the floor beneath his feet. 

Why couldn't he have just gone to sleep? Why did he have to take that nap and leave him thinking he needed to tire himself out? Why did this have to happen?

Did she know he was thinking of her? He wasn't entirely mindful of his words, had he let out a call of her name? How long had she been home before she barged in?

Harry hung his head, shaking his head as he attempted to spool himself back in. If not for the fact that he was concerned about the fact she'd made her way home instead of staying with her friends, he's sure he would have spent the entire night hiding in his home. But, unfortunately, his heart still beat for her and he needed to know that she was okay, at the very least. 

Summoning the courage, Harry stood from his seat at the edge of her bed, his hands shaking before curling into fists. They were best friends—she'd seen him with his head hung over the toilet with chunks being hurled from his mouth, with greasy limp hair until he figured out the right products for his strands, the puffy-eyed, snot-nosed sobs he let out when he failed his first mid-term their entry year of university. There were few more embarrassing situations to be found in.

He was telling himself that, anyway. 

Steeling himself, Harry moved to push open his door and seek out (Y/N) only to be stopped in his tracks when he ran right into her. 

"Harry!" she bubbled, wobbling in her spot as she reached out to grab his arms. She steadied herself with the grip. "Are you okay? Sorry, I didn't know you were there." 

It was then that he noticed the slur to her words. Her eyes, ever pretty and with only remnants of mascara remaining, were glassy. More than being startled as she ran into him, she had reached for him to keep her steady on her feet. She smelled of perfume, a dark bar's worth of smoke and cologne, and the sting of alcohol. 

"'M alright," he mumbled, reaching for her arm across his chest as he scrutinized "Are you?" 

"Mhm," she hummed, blinking up at him, "Are you?" 

A small smile touched the corner of his mouth. She almost made it easy for him to forget what had happened just moments earlier. "'M alright," he repeated, "I didn't know y'were coming home tonight." 

"Oh yeah. I was supposed to," she sighed as if there was a length of story behind her words, "But, Rue got busy, so Kim said I could stay at hers, but honestly I just wanted to come back to you. I felt bad leaving you to have dinner by yourself, and I missed you so I just had her boyfriend drop me off here." 

God, had his blunder even happened? Hearing her say I missed you so flippantly all while clutching his arms and blinking right up at him was enough to bring him to his knees. She wasn't acting at all like she'd just walked in on his private moment. 

"Oh," he sounded, finding his words, "I hope I didn't make y'feel like y'needed to come back." 

She shook her head before he even finished talking. "No, no, no. I wanted to come home—I wanted to be with you. I wish you'd come out with us sometime, you'd have so much fun." 

While Harry was reeling over her words, the sentiments she was sharing so freely, (Y/N) traipsed past him. The ghost of her grip on his arms stuck around in the moments after she left him behind to approach his bed. He turned to face her with his lips rolled between his teeth in an effort to keep anything embarrassing from spilling off his tongue, only to see her slipping off her shoes. 

She left them in an unceremonious pile by his bed when she caught him looking. "What?" 

"What—um—what are you doing?" He hoped he didn't sound as rude as he did in his head. Truly, he didn't know what she was doing, beginning to shed the night while in his room.

Unabashedly, she looked up at him with a flutter of her lashes. "Can I stay here with you? Like a sleepover?" 

His heart stopped in his chest only to leap up to the base of his throat. "A sleepover?" 

"Yeah," she sighed, pulling at the hem of her dress, "Is that okay?" 

Logically, with how intoxicated she was, it was the safer option to keep her with him tonight. In case anything were to happen, of course. 

(There was everything else bubbling in his stomach, too. All the bubbles popping with whispers urging him on to keep her just where she was amongst all of his things, where he can take care of her.)

"Y'can stay," he murmured, offering a soft smile as he gazed at her. "Do y'want me to grab some clothes for you?" 

"Sure," she chirped, already blindly dealing with her hair, "Thank you, Harry." 

He gave her another smile before he left towards her bedroom a floor below. Somehow, within the confines of his home, fresh air entered his lungs and cleared his middled head. Being around her right now was making Harry feel just as drunk as she actually was. 

Maybe she hadn't seen what he was doing when she walked in? While he couldn't imagine he wasn't being completely obvious with his hand at his groin and head thrown back, she may have been too drunk to realize what he was doing. Otherwise, Harry just couldn't fathom how he was being so normal afterwards—asking if she could have a sleepover in his room, even. 

Pulling out a set of pajamas from the stack of laundry on the end of her bed, Harry tried not to dwell as he started back up the stairs to his bedroom. If she didn't want to talk about it, neither would he. (If he had any luck on his side, she might not even remember what she may or may not have seen. The memory might be one of the few that went fuzzy for her). 

Heading back into his bedroom, (Y/N) was sat crossed legged on his bed, eyes decidedly much heavier than when he had left her. Her hair was now tied up and out of the way of her face, shoes and socks in a messy pile on his floor. She perked up when he entered, eyes brightening though still glassy and tired. 

"You're back! You were gone for so long, I was scared you forgot I was home." 

Harry could only laugh at her declaration. How could he ever forget about her, let alone when she was asking to spend the night in his bed? 

"Couldn't forget about you," he admitted, his smile soft as he dropped his eyes from hers, "I hope these are alright to sleep in." 

He passed off the sleep clothes he picked for her, watching as she unfurled the pieces without even looking at them. "They're perfect, H. Thank you so much." 

Standing up from her spot on his bed, she didn't hesitate before wrapping him in a hug. Harry stood motionless for a brief moment, attempting to process the affection. All while clad in the tiny dress he had just been fantasizing about barely twenty minutes prior, the full of her soft body was pressed against his. 

Would he ever not react like a teenager with a crush when it came to her? How much longer would he feel with the racing heart and sweaty palms until his instincts caught up with the reality of her disinterest in him in that way?

Reciprocating her hold, Harry hugged (Y/N) to his chest. She all but melted into him, the effect of the alcohol in her system weighing her down (though he would like to imagine it was because she liked holding him as much as he did her). He was sure she could feel the rapid beat of his heart under her cheek—hopefully a distraction from the touch of his unsure hands hovering across her back. 

"You're so warm," she mumbled against the material of his shirt, the words slurred and nearly unintelligible. "You should've come out with me tonight; I forgot my jacket but I would have at least had you." 

Harry's fingers tensed over her back. The pumps of his heart throbbed down to his fingertips, his lashes fluttering in a blink. She had to stop talking like that; he was already well into losing his mind over her, there was no need to keep piling it on. 

"Sorry," he breathed, the word feeling lame as it fell from his tongue. 

He made no move to recoil from her until she did, making the first move to unwrap her arms from around his middle. His eyes followed her as she focused then on trudging to his bathroom and dressing for the night. She tossed a noncommittal promise to be right back over her shoulder before disappearing behind his bathroom door. 

Left alone, Harry sat on the edge of his bed. He looked at the floor to where her mess of discarded accessories lay in a rumpled pile, a visible cue of her presence. 

She'd never asked to stay in his bedroom like this before. Even on other nights where she clamored home with alcohol in her blood, she'd never stumbled into his room with the intention of having a "sleepover" with him. 

But, of course, the one night she does, is when she walks in on him with his hand down his pants.

The reminder of the moment had a heavy sigh heaving his chest. He wished he was just as drunk as (Y/N), that way he had a chance of possibly forgetting the incident in the morning. Instead, he had a feeling he was going to be dwelling on it for at least another week, if not more. On the plus side, it didn't appear she had any intention of talking to him about it. 

In a clumsy string of movements, (Y/N) made her entrance back into his bedroom with a strong swing of the door. Her clothing was rumpled as she padded across the floor on bare feet. She only barely acknowledged him before she threw herself onto his bed. 

Harry let out a breathy laugh. "Do y'want anything to drink or eat before y'fall asleep?" 

"No," she moaned, wriggling her way into his bedding. "Tired." 

"Do y'need to take off your makeup?" he pressed, standing to help her adjust the layers of sheets and comforter over her form.

"I already did," she countered, tugging the bedding up to her chin as she gazed up at him. Truthfully, he couldn't tell if she really did remove her makeup given the shadows still around her eyes, but if that's the story she was going with, he wasn't arguing. 

"Alright," he sighed, knotting his hands together as he stood beside his bed as if it wasn't his own, "Y'really want to have a sleepover tonight?" 

(Y/N) didn't even blink before she was nodding her head. "Yeah. Your bed is bigger than mine." 

Harry hummed, now seeing the root of her new fascination with spending the night with him. "And y'want me to stay with you?" he asked, wanting to ensure they were both on the same page. 

"Duh," she laughed, turning until she was comfortable with her head on the pillow he'd just been laying against. "Lay down, we're supposed to talk before we fall asleep like a real sleepover." 

While he found humor in the whole situation, his hands still held a slight tremor as he turned down his side—his side—of the bed. 

Was this how he was supposed to do this? How did one share a bed? Other than true sleepovers as a kid, where he and friends would squeeze into beds too small after staying up way too late, there was never a time he'd shared a bed with another. Especially not so with someone he held... extra feelings for. Feelings that he hadn't quite shaken if the way his briefs were just a touch tighter than they should be was anything to go by. 

Working on autopilot, Harry slid into bed. He could feel the dip in the mattress from (Y/N)'s body, a certain warmth spreading across his sheets he'd never experienced before. The scent of her night still clung to her, though now the fragrance of fresh sheets and Harry's own cologne swirled between them. Sleepy blinks were offered to him as he stiffly laid among his bedding, (Y/N)'s tired eyes trained on him.

He swallowed, feeling the weight of her attention on him. "What are y'th—" 

His line of questioning was cut off when (Y/N) sloppily rolled towards him, lying flush against the line of his body. She molded herself to him with a sigh, her head snuggled into the cove underneath his chin. 

"What did you do tonight?" were her mumbled words, slurred and fuzzy against his neck. 

Harry, stunned for the moment, laid still. Those moments with her head laying on his lap or a press of their shoulders together could do nothing to prepare him for this. (Y/N)'s slight shuffle against him was enough to knock him back to earth, his limbs carefully laying around her in a delicate hold. 

"Um, what?" Harry asked, mind having been wiped of the last handful of minutes. 

"What did you do while I was gone?" 

"Oh," he sounded, aware of the way his arm fell across the curve of her waist and smooth planes of her back he could feel through her top, "Nothing really; jus' took a nap and cleaned the kitchen. Nothing exciting—not like you, it sounds like." 

(Y/N) hummed from her hiding place in his neck. "Nothing exciting at all?" she sang, a teasing lilt to her drunken voice. 

Harry swallowed. She wasn't hinting at anything in particular, right? 

"I mean, I started a new book before I took m'nap," he hedged, eyes stuck on the concert poster he had pasted to his wall. "But that's really it." 

She shifted in his hold, pulling out of his arms just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were still swimming and glossy, but she didn't shy away from his gaze. There was a small tick at the corner of her lips.

"Are we not going to talk about it? Because we don't have to, I just want to know." 

His muscles wound tight as he listened to her. She kept her voice decidedly quiet, as if there was anyone else around that could overhear. 

Were they going to talk about it? That wasn't really a decision Harry wanted to make, but he couldn't turn away the option now that it was served up to him. 

"Um," he fumbled, his mouth lagging behind his racing mind, "I—Uh—I... 'M sorry." 

Canting her head, (Y/N) blinked at him. "Sorry?" 

His throat bobbed, tongue suddenly too thick in his mouth. "'M sorry, I... I didn't know y'were coming home, I wouldn't have... you know. I didn't mean for you to see or... hear." 

Please god, he hoped she hadn't heard a thing—that he said or thought. 

(Y/N)'s features cracked into a smile when she finally processed what he'd said. It only took a moment for that smile to bloom into a peal of laughter. 

"Harry, it's not that serious," she got out in-between giggles, "You didn't do anything wrong—it's not like I don't think you do that kind of stuff. I just didn't know if we were going to ignore that I walked in or if we were going to laugh about it. You're not supposed to be sorry for anything; I should have knocked, anyway." 

Harry's mouth went dry. He wasn't sure what kind of reaction this was. Was this only because of the vodka in her system? Or was she really this comfortable with the events of the evening? If it were the other way around, Harry didn't think he would be able to speak let alone laugh at the situation for at least a whole week. 

(Though that could be entirely attributed to the fact that he had that thorny crush on her stuck to the chambers of his heart). 

The lump in his throat cracked and allowed a breathy laugh to come through after a heartbeat. Maybe she was right, it wasn't that serious. It's not like she could have known he was thinking about her. They were both adults, people who were more than able and accustomed to pleasuring their bodies—there was no reason to be weird about it if she wasn't going to be. 

"Jus', should have locked m'door at least," he laughed, joining her as he sagged into the mattress. 

"Yeah," she pressed, settling against him once more now that the seal was broken between them, "I always lock my door, you're too brave." 

He hoped she didn't notice the way his hands pulsed when she so casually brought up her own moments in her bedroom. He wasn't strong enough to broach that subject just yet. 

"Maybe," he agreed, "Sorry, anyway. Not the nicest thing to come home to, that's for sure." 

"I mean," (Y/N) started, her voice breathy as she sunk into his arms, "It wasn't that bad. More embarrassing for you than anything else, I bet." 

The laughter from his chest died down then. His brain caught on her words. "Not that bad?" he parroted, unsure of what or why he was even asking. 

"I mean, you're cute, H. You know that," she said oh-so casually. "I feel bad I walked in and scared you, but I can't act like it was the absolute worst moment of my life or something." She spoke with amusement, a touch of laughter carrying out her words as if this was all so easy. 

"Oh," Harry started, swallowing around his dry throat, "Y'think 'm cute?" 

She rolled into him, tucking herself against him once more. Harry didn't doubt that she was well acquainted with the pounding of his pulse at this point. "Of course I do, you know that. You're, like, the cutest guy I know. I mean," she sighed, voice slurring even more with the dredges of sleep tugging at her words, "you didn't have to stop earlier, if you didn't want to. I could've helped." 

Harry's body stopped working in that moment. Time was moving too fast around him while he was seemingly stuck in that moment. 

What? Is that a normal thing to say? Is this what happens when you share a bed with someone, even if they were only a friend?

His palms grew clammy. "What do you mean?" 

"You know," she yawned, "Just... I know you don't go on dates or bring anyone home or anything, so I could help you if you ever wanted. You're too cute to be by yourself, H." 

What the fuck? What was even happening at the moment? Was he delusional? Or dreaming so intensely he couldn't be sure if it was real or not? But he swore, crossing his heart and all, that this was real and completely happening all while (Y/N) was tucked in his arms with her mouth hovering by his throat. 

And she was offering to jerk him off sometime. Because he was too cute to do it by himself. 

What the fuck? 

"(Y/N)?" 

Harry received no answer. Her chest pressed against his and receded in even paces, puffs of air fanning across the slope of his neck. 

Staring once more at the poster on his wall, Harry didn't feel a single sleepy bone in his body. If he had thought he was restless before, there was no way he was getting any sleep tonight. 

—————

Exhaustion shackled his limbs as Harry moved through the kitchen. Just as he figured, there wasn't more than an hour of sleep in his system, his mind running too fast to allow him any kind of relaxation. Not when there was the extra presence in his bed. 

By the time the sun cracked through his curtains and (Y/N) had rolled to show her back to him, Harry forced himself out of bed. He doubted she was going to have an easy wakeup after the night she'd had, and he was already in shambles, making breakfast essential for the both of them to get through the morning hours. 

That didn't make it any easier, though. A large part of him wanted to stay tucked amongst his sheets, cozy and warm with the best view he could imagine available just before him. Despite that urge, a smaller part of him was still drenched in the complication that came with the slurred words she offered just before dozing off. 

First of all, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be embarrassed that she noticed he'd never really dated before and definitely never brought home anyone. It was bad enough that he was well aware of his lack of dating and sex life, he wasn't comforted at the idea of (Y/N) taking note. Second, what did it even mean to be too cute to be by himself? It brought a flush to his cheeks, the implication. But, was it really a compliment to be cute? He'd never heard (Y/N) describe any of the people she was interested in as cute; they were always pretty, and glowing, and handsome, and—of course—hot as fuck. 

Harry didn't want to know where he placed on her scale of attractiveness. 

Then, lest he forget, there was the whole offer of her taking care of him. If he ever wanted, of course. 

Even just the memory of her words was enough to have his limbs going robotic as he moved through the kitchen. He was going to burn his croissant if he wasn't careful. It was enough to even overshadow the moment she had walked in on him, it was that monumental to him.

But, Harry had a feeling that she wasn't going to remember much of the night before, let alone a throwaway comment right before falling asleep. And that was going to be better for the both of them.

Once he had twin plates of scrambled eggs with cheese, buttery croissants, and cut up fruit, he was daring to step back up the stairs to his bedroom. He felt like an intruder, knowing (Y/N) was still asleep, wrapped up in his bedding. Even if it was to wake her for breakfast, he felt reluctant to pull her from much needed rest.

Though, as soon as he pushed open the door, Harry realized he wasn't going to have to worry about waking her up. Not when she was already looking at him, blinking the sleep out of her eyes with the creases of his pillow etched in her cheek.

"Harry," she sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at her eye, "You're awake." 

"You're awake," he parroted, "I didn't think I'd see y'until this afternoon." 

She nodded absently, missing the amusement in his voice. "Me neither. Where did you go? I thought you'd left me here." 

It was the pout on her face and the downward lilting of her voice that had him taking a step towards his bed. "'M sorry," he murmured, feeling guilt pinch at his heart, "I was jus' downstairs making dinner. I was about to come get you and see if y'were hungry." 

"Breakfast?" she chirped, waking up that much more at the offer of food. 

"Eggs and those croissants," he confirmed, words coming out in a song as he tempted her with the offer. 

"That sounds so good, thank you," she muttered, voice genuinely warm as her gaze wrapped around him from across the room, "Will you come lay with me for a few more minutes, though? I don't want to get up yet." 

"I can bring your plate up here, if y'want," Harry offered, though they both saw him taking those quiet steps towards her.

(Y/N) simply shook her head. "Just you." 

Those two syllables launched him back to the night prior, where she couldn't continue her night without telling him just how much she had wanted only him through her night of bar hopping. Just him—the one on her mind, supposedly. He was too cute to be by himself.

Harry didn't respond before he was slipping into bed beside her, taking up the dented spot where his body had laid stiffly the night before. She took her spot against his form wordlessly, as if it were a part of the norm to snuggle up to him in the morning. 

"Thank you for letting me sleep in here last night," (Y/N) murmured, her chest expanding against his as she peered up at him through her lashes, "I know I was kind of a mess."

"No, no," he shook his head, "Y'were jus' fine. 'M happy y'came home instead of staying somewhere y'didn't want to." 

A small peal of laughter fanned across his skin. "I think everyone was getting annoyed anyway," she started, "I kept telling them that I shouldn't have left you home alone, so I think they were ready for me to just go back." 

Harry could feel his skin going warm. With his eyes closed, he attempted to keep his breathing from hitching. She was going to kill him one of these days. 

"Y'dont' have to worry about me when y'go out, (Y/N)," he insisted, voice as quiet as the grazing of his hands across her back. "'M fine, you go have fun." 

If not for the fact he was hyper aware of her body and just how close she was, he doubted he would have noticed the small shift she made across the sheets to land further in his arms. 

"You're just," she sighed, pausing between her words, "I don't want you to feel left behind or lonely. You're a good friend and you deserve to have fun and feel good." 

Her proposition that he had pushed to the back of his mind was suddenly roped right to the front. Of course, there was the damper of being such a good friend to her that she felt this way, but there was the rest of the statement to contend with first. 

"I—um—'M fine, (Y/N). Really. 'M actually pretty good company, if y'ask me." He had hoped she would join him when he let out a breathy laugh, but he made the only sound in the room. 

The pause lasted just long enough Harry wondered if (Y/N) had fallen asleep again before he heard her voice: 

"Like last night?" His heart all but stopped in his chest. For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, time seemed to stand still while everything in his body went into overdrive. 

She wasn't supposed to remember that. She was supposed to be too plastered to remember anything, let alone the one moment with her he's ever regretted. What was he supposed to say to her? Was she teasing him, was he disgusted now that she was sober enough to have an opinion, was this one big joke that he was going to hav—

"(Y/N), I—" He started unraveling himself from her before she popped up with wide eyes. 

"No, no, I'm sorry," she rushed out, "That wasn't—I'm not trying to—I'm not making fun of you or, I don't know. I just mean..." She looked at him with uncertain crinkles by her eyes, her lips pursed as if she wanted to speak but had to hold back. 

"'M fine," he started again, sitting up amongst the rumpled bedding, "'M sorry if I ma—" 

"Do you remember what I said last night?" 

As soon as the question tumbled from her lips, Harry swore the room became five degrees hotter. 

"Do you remember?" he attempted to joke, though neither of them cracked a smile. 

She gave a nod. "About... you know. I could... help, if you wanted. So you're not by yourself." 

His mouth ran dry. There was much more power to the offer in the light of the morning with (Y/N)'s clear eyes directed to him. There was no slur of alcohol to her voice or liquid to her bones. 

She was entirely serious. So serious, she was asking him again. 

"You don't have to do that, (Y/N)," he murmured, dropping his gaze from hers. This was too much, to have to decline her—decline her pity offer after walking in on him with his hand down his pants the night before. "Really, 'm alright. I have no problem being... by myself." 

(Y/N) looked away with her lips rolled between her teeth. "I know I don't have to, but I want to. You deserve someone to look after you the way you look after me." 

"I don't think I look after you quite like that, though," he tired again, his light-hearted tone attempting to ease the tension. (Y/N) didn't grab the lifeline. 

"At least let me set you up with someone then?" (Y/N) offered this time, "I want you to meet someone you care about, then. At the very least, then we could double date." 

"I really... I don't want anyone. I'm okay." Anyone, but her was the right thing to say, but that wasn't something he was willing to admit at the moment. 

"There's this girl I know, though," she chattered off, suddenly coming to life, "You would really get along with her, H. She's super pretty, she's tall, and I don't think she likes Italian food, but we could work on—"

 "'M really okay, ser—" 

"No, H, she always loves reading—it's actually kind of funny how much she talks about all these books and—" 

Harry felt his stomach beginning to twist and turn. She could be the nicest woman in the world, this friend of hers. But there were many reasons why he was never going to take (Y/N) up on this offer. 

Starting with the fact that the one girl he had his eye on was right in front of him, and ending with the glaring truth of his virginity. He doubted (Y/N) or any of her friends like her were going to be very invested in that.

"And, not to get gross, but she's super hot. Like her body, H, you have to see her—"

"I'm a virgin." 

A flush ran up his skin, blooming his veins and reddening his skin. Why did he say that? Why did he share that? Is he suddenly an idiot? Was he now lacking a verbal filter and had to say everything that came to mind?

At the very least, (Y/N) finally stopped. The many wonderful and hot attributes of her friend had stopped. There was only a blanket of silence floating between them now. 

His heartbeat sounded in his ears before (Y/N) had any kind of reaction

"Oh," was all that fell from her lips. 

Peeking through his lashes, he was waiting for her to recoil. To look at him a little funny—the way the few that had learned that information looked at him. That moment of questioning how someone could have avoided sex (as if that was what he was up to), then wondering if there was something wrong with him, if there was something hiding under his skin that he was unwilling to share. Most people tried to recover as quickly as they could, brightening and telling him that it was alright. Plenty of people were waiting until marriage, they couldn't blame him of course! 

It was an uncomfortable conversation, one Harry let the other party lead. He never really felt like getting into the why's and the moments that he decided to turn down a potential warm bed. Or why it wasn't within his capabilities to have sex outside of a relationship with trust in the mix, or the fact that he'd never been in a relationship that met those qualifications. 

But, (Y/N) didn't do that. She looked at him with appraising eyes, not in search of something wrong. She looked at him like there was so much to be seen, to the point she couldn't believe it just because he was... him. 

"I didn't know that," she muttered, canting her head, "I always just kind of figured that you weren't." Her eyes widened then. "Wait, I've said so many things, why did you never correct me?"

Harry shrugged, the sheets rustling around him. "I know 's not... normal, so I jus' don't really talk about it. 'S easier if I jus' let y'assume." 

Her expression fell a little then. "I hope I never made you feel like you couldn't tell me," her eyes were soft as she gazed at him, "You know it didn't change anything to me, right?" 

A small smile cracked his lips. "Thanks."

She relaxed a touch then, her muscles untensing from the tension he injected with his admission. "Is it weird to ask you why? Like, why you've waited and everything?" 

"I wouldn't really say I've waited," he clarified, "I jus'... I've met people I wanted to be with and all of that, and I've had opportunities but I didn't take them." He paused, rolling his lips between his teeth; this was one of the harder bits to admit. It sounded silly even to his own ears, even if it was something he believed in. "I've never had anyone I trusted enough to share that... experience with. So I've just never." 

(Y/N) listened intently, eyes clear with a cant to her head. God, even with the harsh beating of his heart as he exhumed his secrets, she really was the absolute prettiest. 

"I get it," she muttered, "It's easier to wait than to spend the rest of your life regretting it." 

"Exactly," he exaggeratedly murmured, "'S like y'live in m'head, (Y/N)." 

His attempt at joking was enough to pull a small laugh from her chest. (Y/N) relaxed further into his bed, carving a dent into his mattress just at his side. Finally, that comfortable silence he lived in with her returned. 

He couldn't believe he'd been so flighty about this whole thing. This wasn't one of the things he needed to be nervous about, not compared to what she had walked into last night. And even that incident was less earth shattering than he made it out to be. 

(Y/N)'s tone was much less trepidatious when she spoke again, a decided difference than even a moment before. "Have you done anything else, though? Or have you waited for the whole thing?" 

"Haven't done anything," he responded, with a heaving sigh, "'M waiting on the whole experience I guess." 

"With someone you trust." 

A small smile bloomed over his features. "With someone I trust." 

A beat of silence passed between them. (Y/N) fiddled with the comforter tangled at her waist. "Can I ask you one more thing?" 

Harry hummed an acknowledgement. He should have agreed to get back into bed with her, he was beginning to consider leaving breakfast for this afternoon in favor of a quick nap. 

"Do you trust me?" 

It was the way she said it less than the actual words she said that had a pang echoing through Harry's chest. Of course, he trusted her; she was his best friend. Though, Harry doubted that was what she was trying to get at.

He gave a small confirmation in the form of a quiet yes. 

(Y/N) twisted in the sheets, looking up at him with clear eyes. Her lips glistened, the tip of her tongue having grazed over the pillows. "I know you said you're waiting and everything, but if you wanted to... change that, and you trust me...we could do whatever you wanted." 

As startling as the proposition was last night, this one inspired a twist in his stomach. This wasn't a drunken idea gone rogue. She was looking at him with a steady gaze and lips worried between her teeth. She was serious. She wanted to "do whatever" he wanted. With him. 

Despite there being no visible traces of pity on (Y/N)'s face, he truly could barely fathom the idea of her offering herself up to him so willingly. Especially after learning that there would be little he could offer in return—his skills were more than lacking. 

"(Y/N), you don't want to do that," he started, "'M alright, I d—" 

"I do," she cut him off, the words tumbling from her mouth without thought, "I do want to, I mean. You know I care about you right, Harry?" 

His mouth ran dry. "I know." 

A small smile touched her mouth. "You don't have to, obviously. I just wanted you to know that if you ever don't want to wait or kind of just want to get the pressure out of the way, I'm here."

 Was Harry going to explode? Was he going to flick through the room like a balloon deflating of helium? Or was his stomach going to swallow him whole and leave behind only the sticky tar of his feelings? 

And she was being so casual about it. She offered it as if there was no gravity to her words. 

"You don't have to say anything, though. Just remember that," she said with a soft smile, sitting up in bed with eyes on the door, "You said break—" 

"I want to." 

As soon as the declaration choked out of his throat, Harry wanted to cringe. He wanted to retract every breath, every thought, every twist of his tongue against his teeth that brought him here. Sure, she was offering, but there was such a thing as being over eager.

(Y/N) paused, glancing back to him. A light graced the hue of her irises. 

"Really?" 

He didn't trust himself to say another word. Harry only nodded. 

"You don't want to wait, anymore?" she prodded, forgetting the cracked door and the food downstairs. 

Now wasn't the time to give her the full list of why this exact moment was a dream come true (just short of having her as his girlfriend and holding her hand as they went to the movies), but she had offered a few good points. 

"I mean," he started, swallowing as his eyes dropped to the tip of her nose in avoidance of her eyes, "I do trust you. If there's anyone I know I wouldn't regret sharing this with, 's you." 

"I suppose we are best friends," (Y/N) added, layering her voice with a smile, "But, you're sure?" 

"I am," he said without a moment of hesitation, "Maybe jus' not... everything? I think that might be a bit much for me." 

"Of course, of course," she rushed out, waving her hands as if to wipe the pressure out of the air, "We'll only do what you want." 

Maybe Harry was a bit too much of an open book, unable to truly hide whatever it was that was running through his head, but he couldn't help the way his eyes immediately dropped to her hands. 

Harry knew just how soft her hands were. He'd seen the hand creams she used every night, and felt the plush skin every time they grazed hands or she made the dangerous decision of just laying a hand on his arm every time he made her laugh just a little too much. There was even once, way back when they'd first started becoming friends, that she had him to compare hand sizes. Even now, he vividly remembered just how soft her palm was against his, the stretch of her fingers that didn't reach up to the tips of his own. It was a memory he held onto and one he couldn't get out of his head at that moment. 

He'd thought more than once what it would be like to have her hand on him instead of his own between the sheets. What the visual of her pretty manicured nails, digits of her fingers, the softness of her palm would look like fisted around his length. He didn't have to know to be certain he wouldn't last very long if he ever had the chance to find out. 

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the wide smile mold (Y/N)'s features. 

"Really?" she coyly asked, stretching out her fingers from the cover of her sleeves. 

"Hm?" he hummed, forcing his eyes back to her own. 

A peal of laughter fell from her lips as she crawled back to her spot at his side. "My hands. That's all you want?" 

His skin felt flush as he nodded, his bottom lip wedged between his teeth. "Only if you want." 

She hovered above him, the tips of her hair hanging around them like a curtain. She looked like a dream there, only slats of light working across her face. Shadows sliced over her cheekbones and the length of her lashes with the pretty color of her eyes gleaming in the sun and the curve of her lips highlighted. 

He must be dreaming, but he was never this anxious in his dreams. Especially not one so lovely. 

"No one's ever done that for you before?" she asked, taking up a spot on the mattress at his side with her eyes grazing over his features. 

"Never," he confirmed, feeling his stomach stir at the feel of the heat of her body at his side. 

God was this really about to happen? 

"You're okay with me being the first?" Her voice suddenly had dropped a few octaves, a murmur in the air between them. 

He didn't have to think before he nodded. "I want you to be the first." 

Her eyes were bright, sparkling in the slat of light shining through her hair. "Right now?"

"Right now." 

She looked entirely too gorgeous to be normal when she smiled at him. "Just show me what you like, then. I'm all yours." 

His stiffening cock jumped at her words. She needed to stop talking like that if she didn't want him to embarrass himself. 

With that, (Y/N) wiggled her hand under his own on his abdomen, amusement in her eyes. Harry felt his breathing hitch at the simple touch. Just as soft as he thought. 

In an effort to preserve some semblance of his sanity, he closed his eyes before wrapping the length of his fingers around her hand. It was a moment, a full heartbeat pounding through his ears, before he pulsed his hand around hers in an affectionate squeeze and traced her hand down his middle. 

He could feel the tense of his muscles under his shirt, his legs spreading just that much wider. The ghost of her touch was a stark reminder that he never finished the job last night. 

Amongst his rumpled bed sheets, Harry couldn't be sure that this was even real life. Not that he spent any specific amount of time picturing what this first time would be like, but he could admit that he never really thought it would be like this. Not in sweatpants that had a stain from the eggs he had scrambled only twenty minutes prior. Not with his hand being the guiding force down to the waist of his bottoms. Not with (Y/N).

His cock stirred when their joined hands reached the elastic band of his sweatpants. Despite not even feeling her bare skin on his, goosebumps were raised. Was he going to embarrass himself by finishing within seconds? Harry had a feeling that was going to be the scenario at hand. 

(Y/N) wiggled her hand out from under his, hooking her fingers in the waist under her own volition. "You're still alright? With all of this?" 

"Yeah," Harry breathed out, his voice a hair above a whisper in hopes of disguising the tremor. 

"Okay," she said, looking up at him for a brief moment with a reassuring smile, "If you don't want to anymore, though, just let me know. We'll have breakfast and pretend nothing happened." 

His heartbeat sped up at her declaration. He knew he could trust her—with his body, with his delicate feelings, with his life, even. 

Harry didn't move his eyes from her even when she directed her attention to her hand. He watched her as she pushed his sweatpants down, the band falling just far enough down to hit the end of his boxer-briefs. His mouth fell open as he attempted to gain any insight into what she might be thinking, this being the first time he'd ever been this exposed to anyone before. Even with the layer of his underwear on, he'd never been in front of anyone in an undergarment like this. 

(Y/N) didn't give much away, only the cautious pace of her movements indicated the gravity of this moment. She skated her palm over the jut of his hip, easing him into the feel of her touch; he doubted she missed the way his cock jumped. His body reacted readily to each of her touches: goosebumps on his skin, bunched muscles in his abdomen, lungs squeezing in his chest, and the bruising hold of his teeth over his bottom lip. 

His hip was only the first step before she continued her path. She grazed the top of his thigh, nails denting into his skin in gentle pressures. His breath caught when she touched the lump of his cock, enough so that his chest shuddered. She lingered there, going so far as to give a slight squeeze, only causing him to harden more in her grip.

"I'm going to put my hand underneath, okay?" (Y/N) shared, voice quiet before he felt the first touch of her fingertips. 

"Okay," he answered involuntarily, tongue thick in his mouth. He was so gone for her in the moment, it was hard to think straight.

Harry lifted his hips to help her pull down his briefs, leaving them bunched at the mid of his thighs. His cock bobbed free, flushed and ruddy already. He doubted any other person in the world would have gained a reaction like this one. 

This time, he caught (Y/N)'s first real reaction. Her eyes widened, grazing over the length of him as she pulled her bottom lip between his teeth. She laid her hand on his abdomen for a beat, absently curling her fingers in the hem of his shirt she'd only pushed up and out of the way.  

Suddenly, she seemingly shook herself out of her head, looking up at Harry with a blink of her eyes. 

"Is it alright if I move a little?" she murmured, "I want to get more comfortable, if that's okay." 

She asked as if he had the power to deny her of anything, especially something so inconsequential. 

As soon as Harry nodded, she shifted at his side. Kicking the comforter off of her legs, she rolled to lay on her side next to him. He instinctively wrapped an arm underneath her, his palm landing just between her shoulder blades. The cuddling felt a little more inconsequential now that she had a hand traveling down his form, even if the feel of her chest pressed against him was enough to have his blood pumping faster. 

Now that she was settled, (Y/N) resumed her ministrations with both of their eyes trained on the movement of her hand. Harry swore it was just the fact that she was looking at him at all that had the blurt of precum seeping from his head, a pearl glistening in the morning light. 

"Just—um—if I do something you like, tell me and I'll try to keep doing it," she spoke distractedly, a slight rasp to her voice he hadn't anticipated in his fantasies. 

His mumble of okay was lost as soon as he saw her bring her hand to her mouth. He watched on as she dragged her tongue across her palm, slicking the skin before wrapping her fist around his base. 

"Oh, fuck," he let out, barely audible over the heavy sigh that carried out the words. He fought to keep his eyes open, spying the way (Y/N)'s features curled into a smile with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. 

She did a precursory drag of her hand over his length, the pacing slow and aching. Harry could feel every crease and pillow of her palm. God, she was just as soft as he imagined. 

His chest shuddered as he watched her pretty nails sparkling in the light. The pink polish seemingly mimicked the flush of his head, glimmering and sparkling like the slick of her spit over his shaft. If that wasn't bad enough, seeing the fact that her fingers didn't even connect around the girth of him was going to kill him. Were her hands that small or was he bigger than he thought? 

As if hearing his thoughts, a mutter came from (Y/N), "You're so big, H. I had no idea." 

He wanted to say something (was it corny to say "thank you" to something like that?), instead only a rumbling groan came from his chest. The pillows under his head were the perfect cushions when he couldn't handle keeping it up anymore. He was already flushed and warm, muscles too tight for comfort, and stomach tightening into a burn. And she'd barely even started. 

Hearing his reaction was enough to spur her on, dragging her fist over and over his length. Periodically, she swiped her thumb over his crown, spreading the pearls of precum he let out. The slick passes of her hand rang out through his bedroom, competing with the puffs of his heavy breathing as the most erotic sound filtering through his bedroom. 

"Ti-Tighter," he choked out, his arm around her back holding her flush to his side. 

(Y/N) didn't respond, but he immediately felt the vice of her hand tighten that much more around his length. Another string of curses fell from his lips, his throat thick. 

"Is this good?" she asked, turning until she was looking up at him with wide eyes. Her pupils were dilated, darkening the hue of her irises. 

Harry wasn't able to think as he looked at her. She was his dream, the ultimate fantasy. Looking up at him with glossy eyes, her manicured hand squeezing around his cock. And for the first time, he noticed she was rubbing her thighs together as she took care of him. His free hand clutched the mess of his sheets; he wouldn't be surprised if he found holes in the fabric later. 

"So good," Harry breathed, the words broken on his tongue, "So, so good, (Y/N)." 

The smile she gave him was devastating.

Was she crazy? Was she trying to send him over the edge this quickly? He was starting to think so. 

"I was going to ask if you wanted it tighter, but I think we've found it," she teased, entirely too light-hearted for one of the most monumental moments of his life. 

"Y-Yeah," he answered, feeling delirious, "(Y/N), I-I'm close. 'M sorry." 

"Why are you sorry?" she asked, a pinch appearing between her brows, "This is about you, you don't have to be sorry. Cum whenever you want—as long as you feel good, I don't care." 

Her pace was unrelenting, the slap of her hand hitting his base mimicking the beat of his heart. 

"Fuck, (Y/N)," he muttered, voice strained, "Let me—I don't want to make a m-mess on you, I can grab—" 

She shushed him, shaking her head against his chest. "I can handle a little mess, H, it's okay. Stop thinking about me, this is about you." 

Stop thinking about me, as if that were ever an option for him. 

Still the sentiment stuck the same, especially her willingness to allow him to leave any kind of mark on her, including one so primitive. 

He spared a glance down at her. Her features were mostly hidden give the angle and the wisps of her hair in the way, but he could still see the flutter of her lashes as she watched herself getting him off, he could see the pinch of her nose and the gape of her lips. He could see her thighs squeezed tightly together, the shirts covering her modesty turning tight and especially short around her hips. 

God, this was (Y/N) on him. That was her pretty, soft hand on his length. That was her chest pressed to his ribs, only layers away from feeling the heavy beating of his heart. That was her wrapped up in the sheets holding his scent and so eagerly and happily fisting his cock. 

"Shit," he moaned, his voice rumbling and deep as he threw his head back, "(Y/N), 'm cumming, love." 

There was a void in the pit of his stomach that tightened and popped in that moment, unraveling him from the inside out. His balls tightened at his base just before the first rope off is cum spurted from his tip. The mess he'd worried about came to life then, white ribbons projecting as far up to the chest of his top, others dripping down his length and further wetting (Y/N)'s hand. 

Guileless moans echoed from his chest, filling the room as he came for the first time at the hand of another. His body urged him to close his eyes, the visuals before him being too much for his fragile psyche. But Harry fought the instinct. There was no way he was missing even a single frame of this; there was likely never going to be another time he had the privilege of laying with (Y/N) like this, he wasn't going to let anything get in the way. Including his eyelids. 

She didn't slow down as she helped him through the throes, her own breathing turning rough and off-kilter. Her toes curled in her socks, thighs pressed tightly together. 

Harry could have been up in the stratosphere for hours with the way he slumped against the bed exhausted by the time the final drop of his release slithered down his cock. (Y/N) slowed, though she kept going until the final aftershock left his spine and Harry had to pull her hand away before he burst into flames. 

His breathing came in heavy puffs, lips parted and swollen. He didn't need to see himself to know that his cheeks were cherry red with a nose to match, his curls pasted to his temples with sweat, and his eyes just a bit wild. 

Despite pushing her hand out of the way, (Y/N) didn't think before she laced their fingers together. Her touch was a bit sticky now, but there was no way Harry was going to complain. He kept his arm aprons her back tight, fingers denting the soft plane between her shoulder blades. 

He could have laid there for days, feeling the warmth of (Y/N)'s body and her soft hand in his. If not for the fact his cum had begun to dry and go cold. At the very least he needed to clean (Y/N) up—he doubted it was good bedroom etiquette to leave her to clean up after his mess. 

Forcing his eyes open, Harry blindly reached for the tissue box he kept on his bedside table (truthfully, it was for the hay fever he always seemed to have, but the sheets definitely had their convenient uses. Uses he would never admit to, of course). Reluctantly, he peeled (Y/N)'s hand out of his, wiping the streak of his cum marring her palm. 

A breathy giggle fell from her lips. 

"What?" he asked, his voice bubbled and cracked. 

"Nothing," she smiled, "You're just sweet." 

For some odd reason, he flushed harder than he should at something so mundane. 

"Thank you," he peeped, cleaning the stray strings that reached up to her wrist. 

As soon as (Y/N) was free from the traces of him, he took care of his own thighs and the streaks that hit his shirt. The pile of tissues he had to take to the trash made a little mountain on his bedside table by the time he had himself tucked away and sweatpants laying against his hips once more. 

"Um," he started, unsure of what to say after an experience like that. What even qualified as pillow talk, and how did one start it with someone that was just his roommate? "I'll be right back," he settled on, reaching for the mess of tissues, "'M going to cl—" 

"Harry." 

He didn't think before he looked at her. Her eyes were still full of dilated pupils with swollen lips, but the way she looked at him held more tenderness than he thought capable in a moment like this. 

"Stay with me for a second," she requested, her voice a soft coo. 

There wasn't a second thought to be had as he listened to her command. If he thought he was gone for her before, that was nothing compared to the endorphins coursing through him every time she looked at him in that moment. 

(Y/N) didn't wait before she was rolling to wrap him in a hug. It was a bit awkward, the way she had to stretch up to loop her arms around his neck and the way their legs tangled in the sheets. But it was more than worth it. 

Harry had always pictured himself to be the kind of guy that would want a cuddle after sex, but he never could have imagined just how vital this kind of contact would be after something so intense. Despite this being levels below the real act, Harry still clung to her. 

Every time his chest inflated with a whiff of her hair and sullied perfume, she deflated with a breath that fanned across his neck. Kicking free of the sheets, (Y/N) opted instead to curl her legs between his in a welcome tangle. Her warmth radiated through the material of her shirt, a soothing heat that brought him back down to earth. 

He didn't think before the words were being whispered into her hair: "Thank you." 

The smile on her face was audible when she spoke, "You're welcome, Harry." 

He couldn't help but squeeze her that much harder. "I'm sorry I can't offer anything in return," he admitted, a frown etching its way onto her lips, "I-I could try, I jus' don't think I'll be very good or—" 

She shushed him with a press of her lips to his cheek. It was an act that took his already fragile breathing out of pace once more. The tip of her nose grazed his skin, the plush of her lips hitting right where he knew his dimple to be when he smiled. 

"Stop talking," she laughed when she finally—regretfully—pulled away. "This was all about you, Harry. I'm just happy that you felt good, and trusted me enough to let me do this with you. That's all I need." 

He could only hug her harder. 

Harry would have laid there for hours, happily so, even when he could feel the strength returning to his muscles and the beat of his heart leveling out, but (Y/N) was the first to pull away. She pressed another soft kiss to his cheek before she untangled herself from him. 

Her eyes practically glimmered as she looked down at him. "You said there was breakfast downstairs, right?" 

That was enough to get a full laugh echoing from his chest, his lungs squeezing in the best way possible. 

He was never, ever going to be free of this crush on her. Not now. 

—————

pomegranates, an ancient roman wedding gift; the fruit hades offered to persephone to keep her in the underworld. with him.

ahhhhhhh thanl u sm for reading! so sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any fun ideas or anything please send them in!

[harrystyleshotwife]

Here’s the two ghost music video for anyone looking !!

[colmiillo]

me acting like I just didn't read the most filthy nasty hot smut fic of my life

[wondering-whispers]

One of the many heartbreaking things about tpw triology was that Rin did not have an identity outside of being a soldier. Kitty would have been a scholar. Nezha probably would have succeeded his father. But Rin? What would she have become. The more I think about tpw,the more it hurts

[strawberryazul]

i mourn the history that left with Rin’s last breath.

— no one will remember her as the girl who passed the Keju with only two years of studying under her belt

— no one will remember her as the girl who punched the Dragon Warlords son or the girl who defeated the Dragon Warlords son in the trials and won

— no one will remember her as the girl crazy enough to pledge to lore

— no one will remember her as the girl who had to endure torture in a Mugenese lab

— no one will remember her as the girl who gave the “broken” girl the chance to fight again

— no one will remember her as the girl who destroyed and saved her best friend

— no one will remember her as the girl who had to fight her whole life till the very end. all they’ll remember is a girl on fire, with so much rage, that it almost destroyed the country.

she saved nikara, she burnt it, and she gave it a second chance.

[cerisewolves]

i like to think that rin haunted nezha the same way altan haunted rin. except that a part of nezha probably wants her to haunt him so that he can feel less alone, even after everyone else forgot about her

[onlydivinething]

i wonder if you guys ever regret actually reading the poppy war or if we're all just permanently unhinged now because it’s been three years and i'm still wandering the emotional wasteland that book left me in!

like. i hate that i'm so miserable over rinezha, that their entire existence haunts me and i can't think about them without feeling like my heart’s been stomped on. but also i love that a series messed me up that badly, cracked me open and took root and now it’s just... part of me. forever. (the series traumatized me. send help)

[dr-santos]

i will NEVER stop talking about “you’re hurting me”. there couldn’t have been better or more devastating last words for kitay. for so long he endured the pain every time rin called the fire. he never said anything. rin saw how much he was hurting, constantly asked him if he wants her to stop, but he always said no, always said he was fine because he never wanted to deny her anything. because he knew how important the fire was to her. the only time he denies her is at the very end, when rin loses her mind. and even then, at her worst, as she tries to overpower kitay, the SECOND he says “you’re hurting me” she stops. and not only does she stop, but it stops her descent into madness and she has one final moment of clarity. because “rin couldn’t hurt kitay and not worry about it. if she could, she’d be lost.”

[prompt-heaven]

a list of 100+ buildings to put in your fantasy town

academy

adventurer's guild

alchemist

apiary

apothecary

aquarium

armory

art gallery

bakery

bank

barber

barracks

bathhouse

blacksmith

boathouse

book store

bookbinder

botanical garden

brothel

butcher

carpenter

cartographer

casino

castle

cobbler

coffee shop

council chamber

court house

crypt for the noble family

dentist

distillery

docks

dovecot

dyer

embassy

farmer's market

fighting pit

fishmonger

fortune teller

gallows

gatehouse

general store

graveyard

greenhouses

guard post

guildhall

gymnasium

haberdashery

haunted house

hedge maze

herbalist

hospice

hospital

house for sale

inn

jail

jeweller

kindergarten

leatherworker

library

locksmith

mail courier

manor house

market

mayor's house

monastery

morgue

museum

music shop

observatory

orchard

orphanage

outhouse

paper maker

pawnshop

pet shop

potion shop

potter

printmaker

quest board

residence

restricted zone

sawmill

school

scribe

sewer entrance

sheriff's office

shrine

silversmith

spa

speakeasy

spice merchant

sports stadium

stables

street market

tailor

tannery

tavern

tax collector

tea house

temple

textile shop

theatre

thieves guild

thrift store

tinker's workshop

town crier post

town square

townhall

toy store

trinket shop

warehouse

watchtower

water mill

weaver

well

windmill

wishing well

wizard tower