#not to wasted / queue

[kishavo]

he would not fucking wear that but let's indulge

[idyllcy]

this is a drama. i am the drama.

word count: 10.4k

WARNINGS: mentions of SA, mentions of sex trafficking, mild violence (all r kinda glossed over but still warning), Nonexplicit smut

summary: your soul drowns Tim, but he finds comfort in it.

The city of Gotham is not phased by much.

From the drug trafficking in the docks to the human trafficking happening under everyone's nose, the average citizen doesn't really care. Though, arguably, they do mind when their sleep is disturbed by the sound of racing cars— something else that isn't necessarily new in Gotham. However, there had been news that the racers were steering off into the city at night, so Tim finds himself in civilian clothes, holding up a pass to access the venue that the racers were using, stepping in past the loud noises and people screaming. Ah, he made it in time.

He's surprised to find actual racing cars— cars that look like they could be in a grand prix.

From the seats, he meets eyes with a racer. He can't tell anything, but from posture and body frame, a woman. Now that he looks at it, all the racers seem to be female-presenting. He turns down the drink offered by one of the men, striking up a conversation instead, batting his lashes at the man, hoping to seduce him in some way. He wore too much clothing to be able to do so with his body, but it was still worth a shot. He hates dressing up like this anyway.

"So, what's a goody two shoes like you doing here?" The man smiles, sliding an arm around his shoulder.

"A friend gave me his pass because I said I'd never watched a Gotham street race." He bats his lashes. (Hopefully the fake lashes Stephanie glued don't fall off. God, did he hate dressing as Caroline)

"Really? Usually we place our bets on a racer." He hums, waving a guy over, dropping a twenty in a box. "I'd recommend you vote for Spitfire, she's an oldie and usually wins."

"Who are the others?" Tim slips a twenty from the back of his phone, blinking at the other names.

The man chuckles. "Lightwing is another good contender. She's been around forever. But also, her vision is spotty from an accident last time, so she's not as popular as before."

Tim nods slowly, staring at the other two names. "Who's Moonknight and Aquastar?"

"Moonknight is making her debut tonight, but her test run streaks were pretty bad because she doesn't have as big of a team as the rest of them." The man waves his hand. "You don't need to bet on her, pretty girl." He grins toothily. "Oh, and Aquastar is a visiting racer from a nearby city. We usually have more racers, but Cardinal got suspended for going off the race tracks and breaking into Gotham two weeks ago."

Now that he thinks about it, all of the names were practically knockoffs of the vigilantes and heroes who protected the cities. Although, he's surprised the street racing had ended up this big without any of the bats shutting it down. Someone must have a hand somewhere. He just wonders if it's Hood or B. It could be neither for all he knows.

"How does one race?" Tim blinks at one car in particular. It looks too much like a batmobile for comfort.

"You'd have to talk to the racers for that."

"Ey, Chris, are you hitting on newbies again?" A woman walks up the stairs, shoving him to the side playfully, tilting her head at Tim.

"Oh, come on, Spitty. You know I only do that so I can collect profits when you win."

"Arguably," She tilts her head at Tim, pausing. "You should bet on Moonknight."

"A-ah?"

"If she wins," Spitfire smiles, "then you collect all the profits. It's only a twenty, after all."

Tim frowns.

"But there's also a tradition for newbies to bet on newbies." She laughs. "You never know. That girl's got more speed in her than Cardinal. She just refuses to tell people."

"What's the cash prize?" Tim raises a brow.

"Driver gets ten percent of the bet money on top of the two million that WE pours into the track." She pauses.

"WE pours money into this?"

"We're not sure why, but they have been for a while now. The whole race track was from them." Spitfire sighs. "It's an old story, so it's not that surprising anymore."

Tim glances at the car again, pausing. Ah. This was where Bruce tested out his batmobile by using other people. No wonder he didn't push anyone to check the driving out. If Bruce was testing out all of his vehicles here, then there was no way he'd want it to be shut down. It would explain why he handed him an access card without having him get one. Tim glances around to look for seating, and Spitfire notices.

"You wanna sit in the grandstands?" She smiles. "My treat."

"Really?" Tim puts the money into Moonknight's box. The woman was right. It's only a twenty. Worst case, he loses the money. Though, he wonders what kind of a racer would have a leading champion telling him to vote for her. "Oh, is there a reason all the racers are girl?"

"We tried co-ed racing for a while." Spitfire holds her hand out for Tim, and he takes it. "But the men would get too aggressive and lead to unnecessary accidents on the track. Our goal is to test out cars for our sponsors before they're taken onto the field."

"Is that why there's a pass to get in?"

"Yeah." She hums, pulling the door open. "Come on in."

"Spitfire, favoring a newbie?!"

"Spitfire, who do you think is going to win!"

The woman turns her head, smile on her lips. "Me, obviously."

But it proves wrong when Tim meets eyes with the same woman from the first time.

You stare into his eyes, white racing suit snug on your body, a look in your eyes he recognizes. Though, the longer you look at him, the more you seem to read him— as if his entire past were exposed in front of you at a table. There is a sort of darkness to both your eyes and hair, the stare of a thousand souls. He breaks eye contact first, waving goodbye to Spitfire as she hops back to her position, final checkups of the cars in progress as Chris asks him if he wants a drink. Tim waves him down, but he mentions a can of Zesti would be fine. Chris barely makes it back in time for the announcements.

Tim catalogs the majority of the announcements in, checking for their voice on his phone, blinking when he finds a lack of match for it. He'd ask Chris, but the man is practically leaning over on the stand, eyes glittering as the cars prepare to race. He stands up, cracking open his soda, blinking when the four racers seem to fly off, and his eyes glance at the big screen, camera flying after the cars.

Moonknight goes from second to third, and Spitfire goes from third to first. He doesn't have much faith in his twenty bucks, but he wonders if the batmobile would really be helpful in a race like this. It didn't—

Moonknight goes from third to first at the final moment, boosting past Spitfire and racing to first place as she makes it into the second lap. Tim pauses while recalling the batmobile, and he remembers the change he had made just a week ago on the car, letting it accelerate faster than the other cars. Seeing his own creation in action hits something in him, blinking as she swerves.

"Oh, I might actually lose my money today." Chris laughs. "I didn't think she'd be able to do it."

"Who is Moonknight?"

"She's a completely new racer. She's called Moonknight because he sponsor gave her a car that looks eerily like a batmobile every time. Though, her car is in light grey." Chris points. "I'll hand you the pamphlet later."

"Thank you." Tim mumbles, watching as Spitfire races neck to neck with Moonknight. Tim wonders if it's going to be a tie. Though, he did add something else to the car. Maybe Bruce told you, maybe not. If she manages to find it, she could win. Though, he's more curious to know if rocket boosters were technically allowed in a race like this. Who knows.

You grimace in the car, pressing a couple of buttons as your fingers brush over something new. You wonder if it's the self-destruction button that Batman had told you not to touch. Yet, you shrug it off, clicking it anyway, slamming back into your seat as you speed past Spitfire, breaking past the finish line, steering with one hand as you try and stop the rockets on your car, clicking on the screen, grimacing. You'd rather not call Oracle. Last time you did, she tried pulling your social security number on you, only to find a lack of one.

Your heart races in your chest as you press the button again, the rockets only growing stronger, and you groan as you type in a code you had memorized from the Batcave, successfully shutting down the systems on the car, turning it back into a regular vehicle. You don't know who invented that line of code, but god were you thankful that you memorized it. The car eventually slows, and you drift next to the other racers, parking successfully. You step out of the car, leaning on the door as it closes, the blood in your body flushing your skin.

"Moon, are you alright?" Spitfire rushes next to you, hand on your bicep.

"I'm fine." You pull the helmet from your head, meeting eyes with Tim's again. You raise a brow, and you lower your voice to Spitfire. "That girl isn't a girl."

"Drag maybe?"

"No." You mumble, turning to shield your mouth from his eyes. "Undercover cop. Either that or they're a vigilante. They used Batman's card to get in."

"Ah." She frowns. "Are we safe?"

"I'll deal with it if he throws a fit." You stretch your neck, placing your helmet onto the top of your car. "Gotta submit a report later."

"I'm not looking forward to that." Lightwing groans. "Our next race is supposed to be motorbikes."

"Ewwww." Spitfire shudders. "I hate racing those."

"I hope they don't have rocket boosters like on my car today." You shudder.

"Alright, go get your cash prize, girlie." Spitfire smacks your back to send you walking to the podium.

You step over to the makeshift stage, taking the cheque from the announcer, blowing a kiss at the phones as you stare at the blank cheque. Two million was the max, but you were told you'd get to cash out five if you could win the race. You pause, though, when the girl you were staring at earlier makes her way out of the stands and walks over. Spitfire tries stopping her, but she seems to say something that has her quiet as she steps up the podium to meet you. You tilt your head at her.

Tim opens his mouth to speak before you cut him off.

"You know." You pause to wave the announcer off, hooking your arms under her knees to rest your chin on her chest. "You're real hot as a woman, but I'm sure you'd look better as a man."

Tim flushes as you press a kiss to the crown of his head, and you set him on the podium, lips pulled into a pretty smile. Your voice lowers as you rest your chin in the valley of his tits, blinking up at him. You jut out your bottom lip as Tim swallows thickly. Your fingers lace into his hair, nails digging into his scalp gently, blinking slowly, reading his emotions, his expressions, his everything. You look entranced, and Tim almost feels bad that he's here undercover and you're staring starry-eyed over someone who doesn't exist.

"What's your name, pretty girl?" You raise a brow at her, grinning.

"Caroline." He swallows again, heart racing in his chest. You're too attractive for your own good. Maybe you were using that against him. "Caroline Hill."

"Well, Carrie," You hum, tucking his hair behind his ear. "I think you're gorgeous. Care for a drink sometime?"

"A-as much as I would like to, I'm not into w-women." He stumbles. (A bold lie. He's never had a worse panic over a woman in his life.)

"Quite a shame." You mumble. "You're so pretty too..."

You step down the stage, holding the cheque up as the girls cheer with you.

Tim should really talk to Bruce about what the batmobile was doing in a street racing event.

Though, as Tim tries to run a background check on you, he finds nothing come up. Even in the private files of the batcomputer. Even on the card that gave him access, all the fingerprints were wiped clean. He finds practically nothing, not that it gets to him, he just looks harder. He practically lives in the cave now. He doesn't remember the last day he got regular sleep. He has nothing on you.

So, he shows up at the next race as himself this time. He enters with the same card, and this time, you find him first.

"So? You related to B?" You hand him a can of unopened zesti, and he raises a brow at you. You raise a brow back at him, pointing at his card. "Card. That's a B exclusive card."

"How so?"

"Sponsor card." You smile. "Since it's light grey, that means it's my sponsor. My sponsor is B."

Tim frowns. "Who are you?"

"My question first."

"He's an aquaintance. Now my question." He opens his can, pressing the drink to his lips.

"I'm a racer." You smile.

"I meant as a person." He clicks his tongue.

"Why don't you find out?" You bat your lashes at him prettily, hand pressed to his abdomen, leaning in to blink at him devilishly. "Or are you not into women too?"

Tim's heart races in his ears, swallowing as he tries his best to match your pace. "What does the media say?"

"Lots" You grin, pressing yourself closer to him, arms wrapped around his neck, your air mixed with his, lips pulled into a dangerous smirk. "But all I hear these days is how someone keeps trying to hack my personal information."

"Yeah?" He tilts his head, placing the can to the side.

"Mhm." You hum.

Tim smiles at you, dangerously, all while his mind is a jumbled mess. You had an effect on him that he dared not to pry further into, but god were you intoxicating — bad for his brain even. He finds himself leaning closer to you, all systems going off about how this was bad for him, but he doesn't care. Not when your perfume smells tantalizing and the only thing he wants to do is kiss you sick— make out with you until you're whimpering against his lips, knees giving out under you, and brain fuzzy with only him. His eyes darken with the thoughts, a smile on his face.

You remove your arms from him, tapping his shoulder twice with an innocent smile. "Thanks for giving me the last piece."

Tim raises a brow as you peel yourself from him, his mask in your fingers, smile not so pure anymore.

There was no way.

Tim grabs it back from you as you back up, both hands in the air, and as he shoves it into somewhere you can't touch, you hop over the stands, landing on the dirt with a thud. Tim frowns in frustration as you send a wink his way, starting final check-ups for the race. It's bikes today, and Tim recognizes all of the models. A copy of his own bike is in Spitfire's hand right now. Maybe this was how Bruce figured out whether or not his bike was safe to ride after his own customizations. Jason's bike is in another rider's hands, red helmet with black— presumably Cardinal, and Dick's bike is in Lightwing's hands. You have Bruce's bike still. It checks out now.

This was the testing ground for the vigilante vehicles in Gotham.

The fact that you had figured him out so quickly only meant that you had realized faster than everyone else.

But there had to be a reason that no one part of the team saw the similarities between their vehicles and the ones that the Gotham vigilantes used. There had to be a reason that only you would be crazy enough to figure it out just based on vehicle models. Maybe he could use the status card to talk to you all for a little. Too bad you were already checking the vehicle. He should have asked earlier— strange. It's not like him to be this disoriented.

You win the race.

It's obvious. B's bike was designed with the fastest engine possible, and in a race of pure speed, it would win. No matter how much Tim tinkered with his bike, he wasn't allowed to go faster than Bruce. The man had said it was too dangerous, and Tim could see why. The Batbike was a nightmare to steer at such high speeds. Though, he does wonder where everyone on the track gets their practice. There's never a peak of sound during the day on the track, and neither was there much noise at night when you weren't racing.

Tim does not dig the idea that he has to pull his money card out, but the more competitive part of him does wonder what it would look like to have you fold for him.

"A drink?" He leans over the railing, card held up, raising a brow at you.

You wave him off, handing your helmet to someone else, clicking your tongue.

"That's not the way to ask a pretty woman out on a date, boy." You raise a brow, lips pulled upwards in a grin. "Maybe ask better next time. Some of us have black cards too."

So Tim watches as you leave with the rest of the racers, his heart racing in his chest.

It takes ten more tries for Tim to trace from someone else to you.

He blinks at the woman on the screen, and he pauses to ponder. Perhaps.

However, all of his thoughts are thrown off when a command is called from behind him by Bruce with a new case. A file is handed to him, a file with a rather unoriginal name, and it makes Tim raise a brow. Surely it was a jest.

"I assure you, they are very much real." Bruce rolls his eyes, cowl peeled off, humming with a drink pressed to his lips.

"Is this related to the serial murder of rapists going around in Gotham?" He opens the file.

"Not just Gotham." Bruce hums. "Clark did a report on the serial murder of both registered and unregistered sex offenders in Metropolis as well. It has been a trend. Despite the vigilantism, it is still very much illegal to kill someone."

"I don't see too much of a problem with killing a rapist." Tim presses his coffee to his lips, scanning through the files Bruce hands him. The target seems rather clear. The killer does not regard anyone in the way, knocking everyone out and always only killing the rapist. A maneater. The name given to the murderer was maneater, as if it were some ploy. In some cases, the victims were found with their pants unzipped and an anti-rape condom stuck on them, writhing in pain as they were almost always found dead with poison in their system.

Those who suffered more gruesome deaths... either found castrated with their genitals lying not too far away, or a hole where their heart was supposed to be, the organ missing. It reminds him almost of Heartless, but... that is not the case. This is a vigilante no different from them... just less sparing and guaranteed murder. Now, does Tim solve the case or let the vigilante free...

He does not know what possesses him to ask you of all people, but your response does not help much.

"Moonknight." Tim hums, adjusting his glasses as he puts them on. "May I pick at your brain?"

"Is this about the serial murders?" You wipe the helmet in your hand, cheque tucked safely into your wallet.

Tim nods. "Thoughts?"

"I feel like the murderer's doing us ladies a favor." You shrug. "Think about it."

"I know, but murder is a little..."

"Little hypocritical of you, you know?" You raise a brow. "Must I name your war crimes?"

"No." Tim hums. "Perhaps I should do some digging anyway."

"Wouldn't hurt to have it on file in case you do need it one day." You eye one of the newer men on the track, grinning at Spitfire as she greets him. "Hm?"

Tim's eyes trail up to Spitfire.

Similar build. His glasses indicate the same.

"It's not any of my girls." You crack open the can of soder. "I promise they're clean. B runs background checks on all of us."

Tim mulls over your words.

Scary.

Yet, he visits you anyway, money piling in his back pocket as you win round after round, small talk rolling off your lips in a sort of practiced way, smile inviting as you turn down his request to grab a drink again, humming quietly as Tim's eyes trail down to the small of your back, brow raised as he notices your shorts peeking out past your pants.

"What does it take for a date with you?"

"Maybe not being part of law enforcement." You hum. "Legal or not."

"Why? Worried I'll turn you in?"

"No..." You trail off, chewing your top lip as you turn your head at Lightwing. "Well, if you save Lightwing from some trouble, I'll consider."

"What's wrong?"

"You see the man talking to her?"

Tim raises a brow and spots another group of men not too far off. "Bingo."

You wink in her direction, and Tim hums.

"Hey big fella. Having fun so far?"

You watch as Tim tears the man apart, Lightwing leaving at one point to stand next to you.

"Really, I don't know what you see in that man."

"Not much." You purse your lips, smiling. "Something tells me he's the one."

"I'm willing to bet that he is not." She mumbles.

Yet, as Tim barely lifts a finger to piss the man off, you grin.

"Oh, he's definitely the one."

Tim runs the information, stalking down the final member of your racing team, matching the majority of information to the final member, brow raised when he realizes that Cardinal was not part of B's files either, hunting the woman down as he searches for her current location, and it makes Tim's stomach churn uncomfortably when he realizes how eerily similar the racer is to the described criminal. The person who was dubbed Cardinal had been face-matched to someone who had entered Metropolis just a little bit before the serial murders. It made Tim nauseous.

"Got any leads?"

"Might be one of the previous racers." Tim grimaces. "Of the race tracks."

"Cardinal? I assure you it is not her."

"Really? There had been rumors—"

"It is not." Bruce mumbles. "You know who Cardinal is. It is not her. They may have similar builds, but it is not her."

"Who is Cardinal?"

"You'll figure it out soon enough."

Bruce's evasion of his question does not help the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

You end up with Tim on the date, hair ruffled as he picks you up in his bike, hand held out to you as you take it, humming. It's supposed to be simple. Though, you suppose simple for a Wayne is impossible to determine. You never know what to expect from him. Though, when he pulls you to the local diner, you find it impossible to not know he's the one. It's really too simple.

"Would you tell me about Cardinal?" Tim finally asks you proper questions once the two of you finish ordering.

"Do you think she's the one?" You raise a brow.

"You said your girls are innocent."

"The ones I currently race with." You hum, reaching for the bread on the table.

"And Cardinal?"

"I don't know much about her. She didn't talk much."

"But she was aggressive, no?"

"No." You hum. "She drove into Gotham because she saw something. She also raced her own bike. No one knows who she is."

Tim connects something in his mind, and it sends him back to step one.

"Would you be able to help if I gave you the file?"

"Isn't it just what's available online?"

"One final thing. The killer in Metropolis might be the same person." Tim mumbles. "Thank you."

The food is presented before the two of you, and you stab into your pasta. "I don't think so. Did you track anyone else that entered and exited Metropolis that was a Gothamite?"

Tim shakes his head. "I find it strange."

"Perhaps magic?"

"Not impossible." Tim mumbles. "What do you do in your free time?"

"Tinker." You hum.

"With your bike?"

"No. That's B's property. I tend to tinker with smaller things. It's always fun to build a PC from scratch."

"Ah, you're quite handy with tech." Tim hums, blowing on his pasta. "Anything else?"

"I like watching detective shows." You pause to think. "And racing. I think that's about it. How 'bout you, boy wonder?"

"That's my brother." He laughs dryly.

Tim finds that it's intriguing to talk to you. You know everything that he does, and it seems you know much more than what you let him in on. Dare he say it, perhaps he's met his match.

Tim sends you home and starts patrol. Gotham had become eerily quiet since the murderer had been on the loose.

Though, he has a knack for saying things too early.

A man dies the same day, and B finds his way there with Tim, the two of them sweeping down and kicking the man down, a woman shaking as Tim shields her, holding his cape out, making sure to not look at the way her clothes are ripped up and she's shaking with an intensity unknown to him. He can feel the vibrations of her skin through his cape. The fear is easily contagious had he not known.

"B?"

"Dead. The poison spread too fast."

The woman doesn't look like she was aware.

"Did you buy the product?" Tim raises a brow, eyes scanning her face for any changes in emotion, and she shakes her head.

"I... a-a friend got me o-one on because—" She gasps, shoulders trembling still. "I-it saved her life."

"Do you know where she bought it?"

The woman shakes her head. "Th-they were giving them out on the streets a while back. It's been m-months."

"May we take one back?"

B shakes his head. "Gordon is coming. We will decide then. Oracle?"

Oracle has no intel either, and Tim wonders just how far this murderer is willing to go. If he just let them kill all the rapists in Gotham, then it would result in a number of the population as gone. If he checked them, perhaps the offenders in Gotham would assume they are protected by B — which truly could not be further from the truth.

"Where are you living? I will take you back." Tim catches a figure in the corner of his eye.

"B."

The man shakes his head.

"I-I'll be fine." She mumbles. "May I borrow a... clothes?"

B nods, and Tim hands the woman to him as he takes a good look at the man on the ground.

Familiar. He looks familiar.

The scan from his mask indicates the same. The man who had been talking to Spitfire at the tracks. It was the man who had been talking to her. Some clicks in the back of Tim's mind, his fingers pressing to the silicone, pressing the dirt and grime to the back of his glove to check for DNA.

Just the shaking woman.

"B, I need one of them." He speaks firmer this time. "There has to be some unidentified DNA on one of them."

"There are in one of the files on our computer. It was sent this afternoon." B hums. "The police are arriving. Come on."

Tim doesn't need to be told twice, yet he lingers, eyes trailing on the woman as he waits.

One of the policemen is an unregistered sex offender.

He clicks on his mask as he zooms in, a dark figure flying out of the alleyway at the man, and Tim watches as a claw digs into the man's genitals, ripping off with a sound that shakes the walls, followed by a guttural scream. The policemen shoot at the figure, but they don't react, only retreating back into the walls, seemingly unhurt by the bullets.

"Oracle, did you catch that?"

"No face was detected."

"How about figure?"

"Non-human." Oracle mumbles. "I can't identify anything."

"Tsk." Tim clicks his tongue.

"Though, it has to be a shadow ability. Perhaps something adjacent to it. They're gone, right?"

Tim hums into the mic. "Affirmative."

Tim ignores the way the shadow shapes weirdly underneath his feet.

"You can come out." He taps the corner of his mask for reinforcements, taking a step back into the moon as the shadow forms, a smile of white forming into a human.

"Can you—"

"Neither. All indications of sex are missing."

"Oh..."

Their voice is nothing short of horrifying to him.

"I caught a bird." It grins, and as Tim takes a step back, he finds that his other foot has a shadow warping around his ankle.

"Who are you?"

"We are the night." It sings. "We are the darkness..."

Tim knows what's next.

"We are... vengeance."

"That's rather cringe, don't ya think?" Tim raises a brow.

A batarang flies from behind him, and the shadows only create a hole for the weapon to fly through. The shadow splits into two people, and Tim smiles.

"Gotcha."

"Ah ah," The one on the left shakes its hand. "We were promised... freedom."

"Only where you belong." Batman shines a flashlight at the creature, and Tim watches as it retreats back into the shadows, his ankle free. "And you. Next time, just shine the flashlight."

"Are they weak?" Tim raises a brow. "Just to light?"

"It stuns." Batman nods.

"Go track the leftovers on your ankle back in the cave."

"Will do." Tim pauses before he goes. "Is it an alien?"

"No. Something worse."

Tim does NOT know what could be worse than an alien. (He lies. He does.)

The DNA tracks too many women to count. One shows up and then the next, and eventually, Tim has at least twenty women pulled up on his screen, all pronounced dead after being found used and discarded. It is horrifying. Tim may not understand just how terrifying it is to be a woman, but as he finds children, he seems to understand just how disgusting this is. Girl after girl, woman after woman, every last one of them were used and discarded bare for the world to see, photographed and made a case study out of — all who met their unfortunate end and their rapists never see the end of their life the same way they did.

It is disgusting, but something else is discovered.

He does not remember if it is something new, but it seems strange. It is not a shadow, but rather a composition of human souls forced to merge into an unrecognizable shape. It is science, not an alien, and Tim understands why it is worse. It is an unfortunate victim and not an alien. It is someone who had been forced to change into something unloveable. He wonders if the souls of the unfortunate make up the shadows.

Ah. If they are shadows...

Tim turns around as the shadows form a human again, shorter than he is, apple of its cheeks soft and gentle. A girl. It is a girl this time; not a woman.

"Are you a victim?"

It does not answer him.

"Tim? Tim, do you hear me? Red!"

"It has not attacked yet." Tim answers. "How many of you are there?"

The child does not respond, holding up one finger, and then two, and three, and eventually there are too many fingers sticking out of the hand that Tim had lost count.

"Many."

"What's the deal?"

"I matched the DNA." Tim swallows. "I won't hurt you, but please—"

The shadow dissolves, and Tim lets out a breath, staring at the faces plastered across the screen of the Batcave.

"Tim?"

"Oracle." His voice goes quiet. "They are all victims of... The computer just keeps going."

Eventually, B returns, staring at the wall of faces Tim left, finding the man in his room, glasses on as he stares at his PC, case file after case file being read, news article after news article. There is more than one soul occupying the shadows, and Tim reads one after the other of how they were murdered. Stabbed, strangled, shot, mangled, burned. None of the souls were able to escape death at the hands of their rapist. It was sickening.

"It is not a human." Tim speaks, staring at Bruce at the door. "We can not arrest it."

"Is it humanoid?"

"No. It is a shadow of vengeance."

"There has to be a way to stop it from collecting more souls."

Tim closes his eyes, brows furrowed as he sighs.

"And if I do not want to?"

"Tim."

"I know." He mumbles, exhaustion written all over his face. "How will we destroy the remaining souls?"

"How many women were identified?"

"There are currently twenty seven." Tim mumbles. "There may be even less if more of the men die."

"The vengeance of a ghost." Bruce mumbles. "Just find a way to stop the addition of souls. Surely, someone is collecting souls and adding them."

Tim finally closes his eyes when the sun starts peeking over the horizon.

"Sorry." Tim shows up to your meetup place, eyebags extra bad, and you raise a brow at him.

"Something up?"

"What would you do if someone was collecting the souls of the victims of rape and kill and turning them into a shadow of some sort to let them have vengeance on their rapist?"

"Wow, what a loaded question." You mumble.

"Thoughts?" Tim closes his eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Feel free to ignore it if not—"

"I mean... it makes sense." You hum. "Is it scientifically immoral? Yes. Is it in some way morally correct? Perhaps. Their lives were taken and their souls haunt the earth because they are still held down by things they could not resolve while they were alive. Perhaps to the living, they are a monster, but to the dead? to the dead, they are a savior."

Tim pauses to think. "Should the person be punished?"

"Under the law? Sure."

"How about according to yourself?"

"No." You mumble. "If I was raped like that, I would love to ruin the life of the man who ruined mine. I heard a police officer got his dick ripped off. Is he still alive?"

"Alive." Tim nods. "Vitals are stable, but he can no longer procreate... obviously."

"Deserved, maybe. I heard he got off with only two months of jail time after the initial trial."

Tim does not answer, pausing to mull over the case.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out." You stand up, stretching your legs. "Shall we get something to eat?"

"You have food by here?"

"No, but since you brought your bike, I can take us somewhere."

"It better not be the diner from last time."

It is NOT the diner from last time

Instead, Tim finds himself seated outside of a Batburger place, thanking you as you hand him his order, clear view of the alleyway.

"This place is a little..."

"It's where a lot of drug trades happen." You hum, staring at the alleyway behind him. "Also where a lot of sex trafficking occurs."

"Ah, right." He mumbles. "Red Hood manages that, no?"

"Not as much." You bite into the burger, humming happily. "Sorry if this wasn't what you were expecting."

"I think the burgers and shake could fix me."

You raise a brow.

"As much as it can try, of course."

"Nah, I have those days too." You hum. "Did you find much on the souls?"

"I just wonder if they are decreasing after extracting revenge on their former rapist." Tim mumbles.

"I heard somewhere they started off in the fifties." You hum, continuing with your burger.

"...fifties? Where did you even hear that?"

"Rumor gets around quickest at the racetrack." You mumble. "Cardinal kept closely with the news. Apparently the figure was as large as a human at one point."

"Is twenty souls not enough to form a full grown woman?"

"Perhaps it picks a child for other reasons." You reach for a fry. "Am I being of much help, mister detective?"

"Somewhat." Tim pauses when he hears rustling behind him. "...May I?"

"Careful, they carry stun guns."

Tim nods, leaving you alone, and you click on your phone as you watch Red Robin swing in, kicking and freeing the poor girl, handing her off to the police as you stare at the two men knocked out. Tim had overestimated just one thing.

From behind, a spike of darkness pieces through the men's hearts, killing them on the spot as Tim holds a hand over the eyes of the woman.

Dead. The two men are dead.

The shadow forms behind them, three young women who look no older than the one that Tim is covering the eyes of.

"How many of you are left?"

This time, the shadow forms a 24.

The number is going down.

So, Tim reports the findings to Bruce, changing out of his suit to get back to you, nodding as he sits down and sighs.

"Sorry, stomach died."

"Nah, don't worry about it." You sip on your shake, humming. "Duty calls."

"Are you racing sometime soon?"

"I think B's trying to have us race less lately." You hum. "I won't be racing for some time. The only reason we raced so often a while back was because there were so many upgrades being implemented."

"So you have more free time?"

"Yeah." You hum. "I was thinking of traveling."

"Where to?"

Tim knows something you don't. The gentle taps of your painted nails omit some eerie sense of death, and it seems that no matter how much Tim likes you and feels fine around you, it is impossible to ignore that eerie sense of death. It reminds him of the first time he met you, stare of a thousand souls. Yet, it seems that...

"Staring?"

"You're rather pretty." He hums, pressing his napkin to his cheeks. "Is it not normal to stare a little?"

"Oh, look at you and your smooth words." You hum.

"I mean them." Tim stares at you.

You only give him a weak look.

You don't seem to believe Tim when he says you're everything.

And maybe at some point in time, Tim had realized that your words swayed him harder than they need to. He does not know when he had ended up so deep with his fingers and hands stained with a passion for you, but as it drags him under, he finds that it's fine. Maybe you were just destined for him in some way. If he would be dragged under, then he would simply find a way to clear it out. He enjoys the sensation of drowning in you. Maybe he is just weak for you.

"Do you love me?" You tilt your head, milkshake straw on your lips as Tim sorts through his files.

Tim stares at you, pushing his glasses up. "Why?"

"Curious." You hum. "You've brought me to your place, after all. Isn't this the nice little boat you got with your boyfriend? I remember the media going insane."

"Perhaps." Tim mumbles. "I brought you here to help me with the case, though. I don't think love is the right word for what we feel towards each other right now."

"Mm." You nod slowly, picking up some papers. "The number went down?"

"Yes. The two men who were killed resulted in three less entities in the shadow." Tim mumbles. "I just wonder if the number is going to increase."

"You wouldn't want it to, huh?" You hum.

"Prefferably no." Tim pauses. "Though, I suppose if the entity is acting on its own, then I can not do much to stop it. Someone is letting the souls merge into the shadows."

"If it's just cells, shouldn't it be the act of a human? That must mean they have some sort of way of accessing the victims' bodies."

"That would be the case, but a further search indicated that they were not picking up the cells, but rather just souls. I don't know when we got an upgrade to be able to locate souls, but—"

"It was probably when you tried cloning your best friend." You don't bother letting him finish the sentence.

Your statement freaks Tim out.

"H-how the hell do you know?!"

"B." You puff out your cheeks, continuing with reading the file.

B does NOT have that information open to just anyone to access.

Yet, Tim shuts his mouth, continuing with the file, taking the chance to seal your fingerprint. He runs the match while you continue checking, and he ends up in a dead end again. You do not exist in the database. Your fingerprint is not a real person. Surely there was a chance that you were not quite human either.

"Just how cautious are you?"

"Very." You hum. "My fingerprint won't show up."

"What gives you the boldness to say that?"

"A gamble." You hum. "I race for B. Surely, he would not do something as cruel as that."

"He is consistently paranoid."

"That does not matter." You click your tongue. "He could not hold me down if he tried."

Tim senses that there is a certain level of untruth to your words, but he can not say just what it is.

Three days later, four more men are found dead by the docks. Tim checks them with the police, Oracle's voice in his ear as he observes them. All three have had their hearts pierced through, a gaping hole left behind. Tim looks to the side at the shadows brewing beneath the water, and he observes that the number shown is four less than before.

"These men have to be part of an organization."

"They are." Oracle notes. "Human trafficking. These are the men who are part of a human trafficking specifically for sex workers."

"So... rapists."

"Yes."

"Did we ever get a number on them?"

"No."

Tim nods at the police as they arrive, grappling away.

Maybe he's committing a sin by letting the shadow get away with the murders. It would be impossible to hold them down, but he wonders if he should ever shine a light on them when they kill.

Back at the cave, the young girl emerges again, smiling at Tim as he raises a brow.

"What?"

"Twenty." The voice speaks, much younger this time.

"Are you all children?"

The widening of the smile indicates a yes.

"How old were you?" He holds his hand out for the shadow.

His question goes ignored, the shadow disappearing as B returns to the cave.

"The number of shadows decreased again." Tim stares at B as he undresses.

"How do you know the shadows aren't lying?"

"Here." Tim shows B the newest scan of the souls, and the number has shrunk.

"How did you scan it?"

"I do not know. We hadn't been able to scan based on soul previously."

Bruce clicks on the computer, eyes focusing on the application, taking over as Tim sits to the side. He looks further, digging into the code as he pauses and points at a line.

"Moonknight."

"The racer?"

Bruce reads the code, and Tim follows, pausing.

"She's a computer system?"

"No, but you probably scanned some system in when you ran her through the system the first time."

"Just what is she?"

"I don't ask questions, and neither does she. Just a worker."

"Alright." Tim mumbles. But the issue was you do ask questions. You ask plenty of questions and each one brings you closer than the last. He had already lost his identity to you because of your charm. Perhaps Bruce was not far off. Though, if Tim could not find you, then Bruce probably could not either.

The next time he meets up with you, you finally let him into your apartment.

"Oh, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you love me." Tim hums. "What brings you to invite me here?"

"No, I didn't feel like going out today." You shut the door behind him. "Pizza's on the counter."

"Where are the others?"

"Racing." You hum.

"I thought you said there weren't any races?"

Tim finds that you're a liar.

Somewhere down in the place he's been pulled to, he finds that there is endless amounts of darkness, something brooding behind your soul as you talk to him, smile on your face. You called him the one, but if you were the one, he wouldn't feel so turbulent. Shaking waters. The water he's been pulled under is unmoving and serene, only in the middle of the sea, making the peace eerie rather than soothing. Rather than the liquid moving, he finds that he's spinning further and further down.

"I'm not racing for the time being." You hum. "The others are racing with their own bikes."

"Do you not own one?"

You shake your head. "I prefer other forms of transportation."

Tim raises a brow but doesn't question it.

Even when the two of you are tangled under your sheets and he listens to your heartbeat, the sense of uneasiness doesn't leave. You are too perfect. Even if you were to drag him down with you, he would only know how to hold onto you and not swim. Maybe this is his end. Unless you free him, he fears he will be stuck with you forever. Drawn to the beating of your heart, Tim is stuck being in love with you for the rest of his life. If you would drag him into the depths of your world and ruin his life, then so be it. As long as neither of you cross the line, neither of you would be hurt.

"Would you like to race?"

You raise a brow at Tim.

"Once in a lifetime." He offers.

"On the track?"

"We can race during the day." He hums.

"Not a day person."

"Then at sunrise."

You pause to think about it.

"If that's what you want."

"You make it sound like it's something I want to do." Tim whispers, chin resting on your chest as it rises and falls.

"Is it not?" You run your fingers through his hair, vibrations of your voice making him purr.

When Tim wakes in the morning, Oracle sends him a news article. Ten men found dead at the docks. Ten men were killed, and Tim can only wonder how many of the shadows found peace from their deaths. Though, as your fingers scratch at his scalp again, he could worry about it later. He'd rather not stir up deep waters.

"Ten died?"

"Mhm." Tim closes his eyes, mumbling. "Ten men."

"From the same organization?"

Tim is too tired to consider how you would know all the men are from the same organization when it has not been disclosed to the public.

"You seem to know much more than you let on."

"Of course I do." You hum. "But I won't race you until you find out."

"Then give me a month." He mumbles, eyes closing as he drifts back to sleep. You're warm, and for the first time in a while, he gets some rest.

The next race Tim goes to, he notices Spitfire and Lightwing are missing.

You tilt your head at Tim from the track, waving as he waves back, lips curled upwards in a gentle smile.

He refuses to meet the truth.

There is some sense of security that lies in playing stupid, eyes closed and fingers reaching out into a void of nothingness, knowing that as long as he did not know, he would be safe. Yet, there is always the nagging in the back of his mind, uncertain about his future, uncertain about what would happen if he continued to play dumb. He knows he'll get called out for it by Steph soon, but it really... he was only a fool in love. He can not do something so terrible to his heart.

Even as you bring back the trophy and greet Tim with a thrashing kiss against his lips, breath hot against his as he tries to ignore the truth of the world beneath his feet embedded into the shadows, he knows that he can only play stupid for so long. Soon, this racetrack will become empty, and one day, you too will leave him for the world that he refuses to uncover for his own safety. He loves you, but he can only do so much when he's young and stupid.

"Can I take you back to mine?" Tim whispers, eyes begging quietly as you lick your lips, helmet in your hand as you confirm with a kiss.

The gentle rocking of Tim's place is peaceful in the Gotham waters, port comfortable as he pushes back all of his knowledge. It is a curse to be wise, yet Tim finds that there is nothing he can do when he just refuses to. He would choose you even if it meant laying what he had known before down. It pains him to know that he should not, and you would not let him, but he is foolish and young, eyes gentle as he drinks up the way you lay beneath him, the moon coating you in a lovely white as he furrows his brows to forget about it all.

Your skin is soft against Tim's hands, plush of your waist filling the spaces between his fingers as you stretch your arms above your head, eyes half-lidded as he pleases you — himself. It makes no difference. Turbulent waters have long become the place where he finds his rest, eyes half-lidded as he listens to the way you breathe, both beneath him and in the dead of the night. Life becomes slightly more bearable with you around, exhaustion no longer as suffocating as he's used to. Perhaps he loves you or such. Perhaps he does not. Most certainly, he knows he cares.

In the afterglow of sweat and skin, Tim finds that you are no different from him.

"How many of them are left?"

Tim stares outside the window, recalling the last murder in Gotham.

"They're almost gone."

"That's good."

You close your eyes, lashes brushing Tim's neck as you rest your neck over his arm.

"When will we race?"

"I told you. When you find out."

"Find what, exactly?"

You do not answer, closing your eyes and succumbing to exhaustion instead.

Ultimately, Tim knows.

He knows what he's to look for, and he knows just what you might be. It scares him that you might have lied to him for so long, the shadows and souls lurking beneath the surface of the water finally snaking around his ankle and pulling. The big screen in the Batcave is of no help either, only a single person with an obscured soul, and Tim knows deep down that it is yours. You are a victim of the same organization, an amalgamation of vengeful souls all combined together for the sole purpose of seeking vengeance.

Tim stares at the shadow forming behind him, digits dropping by the day as he reports to Bruce about just what was happening in Gotham. The moral code to prevent murder is strong, but the understanding that a few lives of a few criminals for the cost of a safer Gotham was not a world-ending trade-off. Tim understands that much, at the very least. He knows Bruce does too. In a world where neither of them have to work against human trafficking as hard as previously, Tim finds that the waters are both comforting and vicious. He can not be touched in the warmth of your skin, but others will die from the toxin that he is immune to.

So, as Tim crosses off the final ones in the list of souls, he texts to let you know that the organization has been wiped, asking you which sunrise would work best for you.

You refuse to pick a time during the day because you are afraid of being burnt.

You do not exist in the database because you are not quite human.

You exist because you are someone's hatred and memories, manifesting in the form of the shadows and risking a life you do not have in order to see what is worth living for, vehicles meaning nothing to you as you speed through the racetrack at night, only Aquastar left next to you as she too disappears into the shadows after all the guests leave. There are barely any guests now that Tim looks. Perhaps more than half of them had been tired souls, begging for some sort of help, seeking refuge in the way you would risk your life for some sort of power above the law.

You are home to the souls, regardless of whether they are alive or dead. If someone seeks death, they reach for your arms, holding their hands around your shoulders as you stare past their skin, into the depths of the darkness beyond — something Tim is terrified of touching, Yet, with the feeling of your skin memorized between his fingers, he knows why people go to you to look for something.

You are so living yet so dead.

There is comfort only you can provide.

You meet Tim at the racetrack, sitting on your bike as Tim drives in past the gates. The darkness in your soul has grown lighter. Something has changed from when he first met you. You are still so lovely in his eyes, yet it seems that you can not be together in a case like this. It is a shame. At least he gets to race you, popping off his helmet as he notices how empty the stands are compared to when you used to race. The end of your need in Gotham has arrived, and the end of your services to WE has ended as well. There will be no more of you one day in the future, and Tim knows that one day, he too will be cursed to forget everything about you.

The people are gone.

The racers are gone.

And perhaps after this race, you will be too.

You enable the speaker, fingers clicking on the screen at the podium, giving the two of you a twenty-minute warmup.

Tim wonders just how fast he can go. He watches you from the side as you warm up your bike and drive, speeding around the track with practice that can only come from muscle memory. Yet, he drives around the track and gradually speeds up, trying to get a hand on how to race around. Tim finds that he's a little rusty, making several more rounds around the track as you sit on the side, clicking on your phone and scrolling through. Tim does not know how to bring it up.

"What does the winner get?" You look up from your phone, hopping on your bike as you wait for the countdown.

"Whatever the winner wishes."

"That's quite the bet." You hum, staring up at the light as Tim gets ready.

"Of course."

You start your bike, speeding past Tim as the light shows green, Tim tight behind you as he catches up to you. You wonder and think, leaning to the side as the bike follows, letting Tim pass you as you trail behind him. Tim finishes the first lap relatively quickly, and he realizes that you've fallen back a significant amount. He's unsure whether or not to speed up, but as he finishes his second lap, he finds that you're still far behind.

You cut him from the left, successfully stopping Tim from hitting a wall.

Tim speeds up to chase after you, wondering when you had the time to cut him off.

Yet, the end is evident, your bike parked at the end after your third lap, a grin on your face as he stares at you.

The souls are gone, and you look so, so lonely.

The lights shut as the two of you sit by the podium, tablet in your hand as you kick your legs, and you finally speak up.

"I know you found out."

Tim grimaces. "...why?"

You stare at Tim, peeling back your jacket, throwing it at him as he stares at you, watching as your eyes turn pitch black, shadows forming underneath your skin and turning the entire podium dark, some sort of ancient power creeping up your hands to your forearms, darkness evident in every blink at him, lips curled up into an apologetic smile, and Tim feels the water surrounding him drain all at once. If he would not leave you, then you would leave him. You would force him out of the comfort of your waters, knowing that it would drown him one day.

"The shadow moves with you." Tim stares at you, swallowing thickly. "There is only one victim left. We both know who it is."

You stare at Tim, lips curling upwards as he remembers why your smile started looking so familiar at one point.

"You are the last." Tim picks his words carefully. "Are you a shadow?"

"No. Just a medium. I am very much alive." You smile.

"Who are you waiting to kill?"

"No one." You hum. "I am alive because I must hold onto the shadows for the next ones seeking vengeance."

"You are the source."

You ignore him.

"Are you human?"

You blink at him again, ignoring him once more. "Luckily, it seems the victims have lessened lately."

"Why had there been so many at once?"

"There was an organization." You rock on your heels, lips curled upwards. "Everyone in the organization has been wiped. No fret. They alone resulted in over fifty deaths of women after they reached the age threshold."

"The youngest was ten."

"Yes."

"And the oldest?"

"Most of them were killed once they turned 21." You hum. "Occasionally, if someone looked young enough, they would be killed later, but the majority of them were killed at 21."

"How many souls were there initially?"

"Well over a thousand." You hum.

"And only you are left."

"Yes."

"Why play savior?"

"Why not?" You grin. "I have done nothing but host the poor souls. That does not warrant for my arrest."

Tim knows there is an argument against it, but he does not think too hard.

"Next time a soul finds you, notify me. Send me an invite to your race."

"You know, Tim." You hum. "B no longer needs me."

Ah.

"Will you be gone?"

"Very much so."

"To where?"

You do not tell him.

"Write to me." He speaks again.

You shake your head.

"I can not."

"Why not?"

"Send me some flowers when you see me on the news. That is my wish."

Tim tries to not think too much about your final words to him. You left the next morning, morphed shadows in the city leaving with you, and Tim finds that soon, almost everyone forgets you had ever existed. You had come and gone, shadow of death leaving with you, but he finds that occasionally on the news, he hears word about a new racer, gender unidentifiable, face consistently hidden, only known by their speed. You have become a criminal under the law, racing between the crevices of cities, fake trophy after fake trophy taken home, death following wherever you went, sex trafficking decreasing whenever you rested at night.

Tim tries not to follow you all that much, but when you show up on camera on accident, your home is raided and you are killed on sight by the same men who had killed so many others.

It hurts Tim in the head, eyes closed as he tries his best to not think too much about your death and how you had known all this time, but it would forever haunt him. He still remembers the way the waves would rock gently underneath the moonlight when he was engulfed by you, eyes always tired but comfort always found, knowing that you would be his rest when he needed it. So, for him to see you dead on the news, he finds that perhaps he was just cursed to not be able to hold onto you — that he was destined to be stuck in place and watch as you died because you had made a minor mistake. A mistake that would not have cost his life, but cost yours instead.

Yet, he honors your promise, white chrysanthemums placed at your grave as he holds onto the umbrella, humming quietly. The rain splatters gently against the plastic, quiet drumming calming him as he stares at the carving on the grave. The media had reported this was your place of burial, though Tim did not know if it really was you. He could have only assumed off of the information given, matching your age slightly, and he wonders if there is some sort of universe out there where he would be able to just stay with you.

"Here to see her too?" A masked woman steps next to Tim.

"Yes. I promised I would send flowers once she showed up on the news."

"How lovely of you." The woman hums, placing down a blue lotus.

"Did... you know her?"

"I knew her quite well."

Tim stares down at his flowers, finally looking up at the woman.

"It's such a shame, huh? That she would die to the very organization that she had been working to take care of."

"Well, perhaps she had just understood what it meant to live when she died." You turn to Tim, pulling down your mask as you wait for it to register in his head. "What do you think, Ca—"

You don't get to finish your words before Tim wraps his arms around you with closed eyes.

"I love you too, boy wonder."

[penguin-stars]

"Are you debating whether to die or not?" Cale looked toward the cracking white mask as he asked. "Yes, I am debating it." "Just die."

Cale to the White Star:

[userkuromi]

in the source link or by clicking here, you'll find 273 268x151 gifs of clara galle in through my window 3: looking at you (2024). all gifs were made by me from scratch. my rules can be found here but tl;dr: just don't claim them as your own or repost them in gif hunts. a like or reblog is appreciated if you use these gifs but not mandatory. enjoy!

content warning(s): eating, drinking, flashing lights, body image / n*dity, kissing, s*xual / suggestive scenes, yelling

[kismetconstellations]

[goldkirk]

hey this isn’t aimed at anyone in particular but I’m saying it for the record here: if I tell you no, please stop messaging me about fundraisers and mutual aid.

I get enough messages that it’s impossible for me to keep up without devoting at least half an hour each day, when I’m not even on tumblr that long most days. Me having a boundary about this isn’t a moral failing, it’s a lifeboat for me on my own blog.

In my personal life I’m already advocating and donating literally as much as I can spare. This is not me not caring, it’s just me not willing to interact with that on the one place I go online to not interact with irl news and world events for the most part.

I cannot be upset all the time. I cannot be upset everywhere. I cannot use all my emotional and mental energy fielding my own upset from ongoing events. My options are to hold boundaries about this or stop coming online at all.

I’m all for sharing information and signal boosting to reasonable extents, but the scale of it this year is so large and so enduring that it is literally not possible to for me to participate on every account I have. I’ve previously shared links to Gaza eSIM donations and a major hub of verified Go Fund Mes here and elsewhere online. We, the online humans, know how to look those things up ourselves by now. There are many, many people choosing to do advocacy work, and right now, I can’t be one of them.

If you’re extremely upset when I tell you I can’t share/donate right now about a Gaza family or personal fundraiser you ask me to share here, just unfollow and block me. That’s what those buttons are for. Protect your own emotions and energy and get me off your feed instead of staying upset and continuing to engage with online people or content that upsets you.

Please don’t send repeated angry messages based on manufactured purity politics and moral outrage into my messages and inbox when I exercise the right to run my own blog.

[lowaltitude]

Imperfect Storm | Billy Hargrove

- Stranger Things

- x Reader

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

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

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

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

───── ❝ introduction❞ ─────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

───── ❝ fight❞ ─────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

───── ❝ detention❞ ─────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

───── ❝ the calm❞ ─────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

───── ❝ the storm❞ ─────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” I whisper.

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

I nod, “Yeah, are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like that, don’t you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

───── ❝ fear ❞ ─────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

───── ❝ hope ❞ ─────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

───── ❝ unwilling ❞ ─────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

───── ❝ unwavering ❞ ─────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We had English together last year, remember?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My breath caught in my throat as I met his intense gaze. The air between us crackled with tension, and I could feel the weight of his words before he even spoke them. “I’m real fucking mad at you,” he stated firmly, his voice laced with a raw intensity. he reaches his hand forward, wrapping his fingers around the base of my throat.

“Why is that?” I challenged, my voice laced with a mixture of frustration and determination. My eyes blazed with heat as I locked onto his.

His response came as a whisper, yet it reverberated through the room. “I told you, you’re mine,” he declared, his voice filled with a mix of possessiveness and vulnerability. “Or did you forget?”

“Maybe,” I retorted, my voice filled with a mix of defiance and playful challenge. “Are you going to have to remind me?”

A mischievous grin danced across Billy’s lips, and he closed the distance between us, stepping towards me until my back was pressed against the cool surface of the kitchen sink. His proximity sent a thrill coursing through me, and my breath hitched in anticipation.

In that moment, the world around us faded into the background as his lips captured mine in a passionate and all-consuming kiss.

The intensity of his touch sent shivers down my spine, erasing any doubts or hesitations that lingered within me. Our lips moved in perfect synchrony, a dance of desire and longing.

As our kiss deepened, the outside world ceased to exist. There was only the heat of our connection, the intertwining of our breaths, and the shared exploration of unspoken desires. The sound of the party faded into a distant hum, drowned out by the rising tide of passion between us. I surrendered myself to the intoxicating pull of Billy’s touch. The heat of his lips against mine, the possessiveness of his embrace.

“Are you okay Y/N?” I hear Steve’s voice, his fingers knocking on the door.

I heard Steve’s voice outside the bathroom door, his concerned tone breaking through the haze of passion that enveloped me. Billy pulled back slightly, his body still pressed against mine, as he placed a few sloppy kisses along my jaw and collarbones. The sensation sent a shiver down my spine, heightening the desire that pulsed between us.

I struggled to compose myself, my voice slightly breathless as I responded to Steve, “Yeah, I’m okay! Just be a minute!” My words came out in a rushed whisper, my mind still clouded by the intensity of the moment.

“Okay, I’ll be in the car. Hurry up” Steve’s voice faded into the background as Billy suckles at the perfect tender spot on my skin and I moan softly.

Billy’s lips found their way back to mine, his kisses carrying a mix of urgency and longing. I couldn’t help but respond, my own desire intertwining with his, as our lips met in another passionate embrace

As I reluctantly pulled back from Billy’s intoxicating kiss, my mind momentarily drifted to the world outside our passionate bubble. “I have to go”

Billy groaned in response, his lips seeking mine once more as if pleading to continue. In that moment, I found myself succumbing to the allure of his touch, momentarily forgetting everything around me.

But reality had a way of sneaking back in, and I gently pushed against Billy’s chest, creating a small space between us. “Steve’s waiting,” I reminded him, my voice filled with a mixture of longing and apprehension. Steve’s name hung in the air like a fleeting reminder of responsibility.

A flicker of frustration danced across Billy’s face, but he quickly composed himself. His breath brushed against my skin as he muttered, “Don’t think about him when I’m touching you,” his words laced with desire and possessiveness. His lips found their way to my collarbones, planting a series of fervent kisses, igniting a fire within me that was hard to extinguish.

The sensations overwhelmed me, and for a moment, I was lost in the thought of what could happen tonight. But the knowledge that I couldn’t keep Steve waiting tugged at my conscience, and with a heavy sigh, I reluctantly disentangled myself from Billy’s embrace.

“I have to go,” I whispered, my voice filled with a mix of longing and regret. I brushed a strand of hair away from my face, my eyes locked with his for a fleeting moment, conveying the unspoken desire and unfinished emotions between us.

Billy nodded, his eyes holding a mix of longing and disappointment. With a final lingering kiss on my lips, he released me, allowing me to make my way back to the reality awaiting me outside the secluded space we had shared.

As I closed the bathroom door behind me, leaving Billy in the temporary sanctuary of our shared desires, I returned to the vibrant atmosphere of the party. The sounds of laughter and music filled the air, mingling with the fluttering butterflies in my stomach.

Outside, Steve awaited me in his car, his impatience evident as he drummed his hands on the steering wheel. I slid into the passenger seat, a small smile playing on my lips. "That took forever," he groaned, playfully expressing his frustration.

I rolled my eyes, a hint of amusement in my voice. "Oh, come on. It wasn't that long."

He chuckled, shaking his head in mock exasperation. With a twist of the ignition, the car roared to life, carrying us away from the lingering echoes of the party. The drive back to his house was filled with comfortable silence.

As the familiar sights of Hawkins passed by, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and uncertainty. The memory of Billy's touch still lingered. But for now, as Steve maneuvered through the familiar streets, I leaned back in my seat, allowing the cool night air to brush against my skin.

As we approached Steve's house, I couldn't help but steal a glance at the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of my reflection. The spark in my eyes, the trace of a smile on my lips, and the memories of the stolen moments with Billy were reminders of the whirlwind that had enveloped me.

As we stepped out of the car and made our way into Steve's house, a heavy sigh escaped his lips, drawing my attention to my best friend. Concern etched across my face, I reached out to him. "What's up?" I inquired, my voice filled with genuine curiosity.

Steve's shoulders slumped, his gaze fixed on the ground. "I feel like an asshole," he admitted, his voice laced with self-blame.

Surprised by his confession, I searched his eyes for answers. "Why?" I questioned gently, hoping to understand his turmoil.

"When the sirens went off, I didn't even think about you," Steve confessed, his words heavy with regret. "We got to the cellar and locked the doors. Nobody noticed you and Billy were gone."

I listened attentively, a mix of understanding and compassion flooding my heart. I reached out, gently placing my hand on his arm. "Steve, it's okay. We lived," I reassured him, my voice filled with reassurance.

His eyes met mine, a glimmer of sadness reflecting in their depths. "And if you didn't? Y/N, I can't imagine a world without you," he confessed, his voice choked with emotion. "Seriously, if they had pulled out your body, I'd..."

I placed a comforting hand on his cheek, my touch meant to convey understanding. "Billy actually protected me," I interrupted softly, wanting to ease his guilt. "He made sure I was okay. We talked and slept through most of the storm."

Steve's eyes widened in surprise, his expression a mix of relief and concern. "I wish I could have been there with you," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine regret.

Squeezing his hand gently, I offered him a small smile. "It's okay, Steve," I reassured him, my words filled with sincerity. "You couldn't have known what would happen."

Steve nodded, a mix of gratitude and sadness in his eyes.

───── ❝ unknown ❞ ─────

Steve parked the car in front of my house, and we both sat there for a moment, a mixture of excitement and nerves filling the air. He turned to look at me from the driver’s seat, his eyes searching for reassurance.

"Are you sure this shirt isn't ugly?" he asked, a hint of insecurity in his voice.

I couldn't help but gasp in surprise. "I brought you that shirt," I exclaimed, remembering the day we went shopping together and stumbled upon that particular piece.

He didn't say anything, just stared at me with a mix of gratitude and surprise.

"No, Steve," I reassured him. "You look great. Go enjoy your date. Just make sure she doesn't realize how much of a dumbass you can be sometimes."

A smile played on his lips as he nodded. "I'll call you later."

"I don't need the details," I teased, rolling my eyes playfully.

He waved goodbye and drove off, leaving me standing in front of my house wearing one of Steve's old shirts and a pair of shorts. I watched as his car disappeared down the street, feeling a mix of happiness for him and a tinge of loneliness.

Just then, the sound of a car engine caught my attention. I turned and saw Billy parking his blue Camaro a few houses away. My heart skipped a beat as I watched him step out of the car, his presence commanding attention.

I took a deep breath, adjusting my borrowed shirt, and made my way towards him.

“Hey,” I greeted Billy as I approached him, a mix of anticipation and nervousness swirling inside me.

"You weren't here last night," he observed, his eyes scanning me for any signs of explanation.

"No," I replied, raising an eyebrow. "I stayed at Steve's."

Billy's expression flickered, a hint of surprise and something else I couldn't quite decipher. He glanced away momentarily before meeting my gaze again.

"Steve's, huh?" he remarked, his tone laced with a hint of skepticism.

I shrugged, not wanting to delve into the details. "Yeah, we just hung out, talked, and watched some movies. Nothing special."

Billy's eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, as if searching for something beneath the surface. He seemed torn between curiosity and restraint, his usual guarded demeanor wavering.

"Well," he finally said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Guess I'll have to make up for lost time then." A playful glint danced in Billy's eyes as he asked, "Are you going to invite me inside, or do I have to settle for fucking you in my car?"

I smirked, enjoying Billy's playful challenge. "Well, if you're offering, I wouldn't mind the car," I replied with a teasing glint in my eyes.

Billy raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Is that so?" he responded, stepping closer to me.

Before I could respond, he leaned in, capturing my lips in a searing kiss. The intensity of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, igniting a fire that had been smoldering between us

As the kiss deepened, I could feel the hunger and desire building between us, a magnetic force pulling us closer together. The touch of his lips against mine was both passionate and tender, a perfect balance of raw emotion and restrained longing.

Eventually, we pulled apart, our breaths mingling in the air. Billy's eyes bore into mine, his gaze filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability. It was a silent invitation, an unspoken question hanging between us.

I smiled, the answer clear in my eyes. "Why don't we take this inside?" I suggested, my voice filled with anticipation.

Billy nodded, his grip tightening around his keys. "Lead the way," he murmured, a newfound excitement dancing in his eyes.

As I entered the house, Billy followed closely behind, the anticipation between us growing with each passing moment. I called out, hoping nobody would be home to answer. The absence of any response confirmed that we were alone, adding an extra layer of excitement to the air. “I guess it’s just us”

“Good” Billy responded quickly, pressing me against the wall, a surge of heat coursed through my veins, intensifying the desire between us. His hands explored my body with a hunger that mirrored my own, igniting a fiery passion that consumed us both.

Our lips met in a desperate kiss, a collision of lips and tongues that spoke volumes of the untamed desire we shared. Each touch, each caress sent electric shocks through my body, awakening every nerve ending. I melted into his embrace, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations that enveloped us.

Billy���s touch was both gentle and possessive, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns along my skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. The heat between us grew, fueling an insatiable hunger that seemed to consume us entirely.

As our bodies moved in sync, the rhythm of our desires matched perfectly. Moans and whispers filled the air, mingling with the sound of our racing hearts.

"Where's your bedroom?" Billy asked between kisses, his voice husky with desire.

"It's right over..." I started to respond, but my words were interrupted by a yelp as he effortlessly picked me up, his strength evident. The excitement in his eyes only intensified my own anticipation.

"Tell me," he demanded, his voice laced with a mix of command and desire.

I quickly directed him to my room, my heart racing as we made our way there. The anticipation grew with every step, each one bringing us closer to the privacy we both craved.

As we entered the room, Billy wasted no time in locking the door, ensuring that we were completely alone in our intimate space. The click of the lock echoed through the room, sealing us away from the outside world.

He gently placed me down on the bed, his touch sending sparks of electricity through my body. The hunger in his eyes mirrored my own.

“You makes my heart thump, my cock hard and my mind dirty. The things I want to do to you should be considered a sin.” Billy mumbled, his gaze fixed on me as I lay on my bed. His words caused a warmth to spread across my cheeks, a blush that betrayed the mix of emotions swirling within me.

Billy shifted his position, his body now hovering above mine, his strength carefully balanced to ensure he didn’t overwhelm me with his weight. As he settled into this new position, his hand gently traced the curve of my bottom lip, his touch eliciting a shiver that ran down my spine.

His gaze locked with mine, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness. The touch of his hand on my lip was both electrifying and gentle, a delicate cares.. His fingers traced the outline, as if memorizing every contour, every detail, igniting a fiery longing within me. I felt my breath hitch in anticipation, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

“I want you, right now” I whisper, my lips hovering over his as I grabs the hem of Steve’s shirt, “but I need to get this off.” Billy nods. It’s bad enough I’m about to fuck my best friend’s enemy again, but I don’t want to fuck him with his clothes on.

I lift the large shirt over my head, discarding it to the floor and he dives forward, lips on my neck as he licks, kisses and sucks on my soft skin. My hands are in his hair, pulling his lips from her skin so I can sink my lips over his in a slow, torturous kiss before I pull on my bottom lip with my teeth.

Billy moves away from me, pulling at the string of the shorts and tugging them down my legs. My hands find his broad shoulders as I sit up and balance herself, removing one foot at a time. Billy throws them to the side before his eyes glide up my body, taking every inch of me in until his eyes finally land on mine. My eyes fluttering as I blink, chest rising and falling fast.

Billy tugs my legs forward so i’m sat on the edge of my mattress before pushing his lips against my inner thigh, trailing soft kisses against my hot skin.

“Y/N” He whispers, looking up at me through his lashes, “You’re mine.”

I cant help but nod my head, shallow pants leaving me.

“Good,” He groans, lifting his lips and pressing them on my other thigh, hooking a long finger in the side of the scrap of material and pull it to the side, exposing me. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, I watch him fall back on his knees as he reaches for me with his other hand and pushes my lips apart, sucking in a breath through his teeth.

“Billy,” I whisper, as he lifts my leg and place it over his shoulder, then tap my inner thigh of my left leg asking for me to spread out a little.

“Remember what I said before the storm?” He let his eyes find mine. “I said I like it when you say my name. Now sweetheart, I want you to show me how good my name sounds coming off your tongue whilst you cum on mine.”

“Fuck,” I whisper, as he swipes his tongue through my parted lips, flicking it against my clit then gliding it down, swirling and teasing before his back on the clit, sucking and nibbling. His fingers dig into my sensitive skin, spare hand skimming up to my bare stomach and holding me in place to stop my wriggling.

He buries his tongue deeper, trailing a hand to my other thigh and lift it over his left shoulder, then grip to my waist as he holds me where he wants me.

Slowly grazing his fingers under her ass, he lets them trail down behind me and tease at her opening, edging the tip of two fingers into my soaked pussy which causes my hips to buck forward, as his tongue laps across my sensitive area.

“Oh, Billy,” I pant, fingers finding his hair as I tug at the root, pushing him deeper.

Edging a little further into me, I feel him curl his fingers as he rubs my g-spot then slowly begin pumping in and out, matching the strokes of his tongue.

“Please Billy, I need more,” I begs, and he lifts his mouth from me, so he can look at me, fingers still fucking me.

“Then come,” He smirks, throwing a wink at me as he lurches forward and sinks his tongue between my lips again, sucking on my clit.

Billy teases with a third fingertip causing me to whimper as he slowly slips it in. I constrict around his fingers, pelvis tilting up slightly, giving him better access.

“I knew you were greedy,” He whispers between tongue strokes.

“Billy,” I moans, feeling him tilt his head to the side slightly and press his tongue flat against my clit “Shit,” I cry.

“Are you going to come for me?” His fingers fuck faster, harder.

“Yes, so fucking hard,” I cry again, fingers knot in his hair. I clench tightly as I grind down on his fingers, hips rocking back and forth slowly and I start to lose control.

I screams his name, pleasure lacing my voice. I feel Billy slide his tongue to her opening, lapping up as the wetness coats his fingers. He pulls away, watching as his fingers continue to fuck me, arousal coats his hand, a few drips running down his wrist and he smirks up at me.

“Enjoying this, sweetheart?” He asks in a raspy tone as he slowly moves my legs down and they tremble in his tight grip. I nod slowly, hazy from the orgasm that ripped through me. I reach between her legs and starts swirling my fingers over my clit.

He keeps his eyes focused on my pussy but just as I gets into it, I make myself stop, reaching for his hand and slipping his fingers out. I lifts them to my lips and sucks the three of them clean whilst keeping my eyes pinned on his. “Oh fuck,” Billy moans as pleasure ripples through him.

I grab his chin, fingers tight as I grips, and pulls him to my feet. Billy towers over me, causing my hand to drop.

“Now it’s my turn,” My fingers run under the waistband of his jeans, then hungrily tug them down his toned thighs. I feel my eyes widen, glazing with delight as I looks from his cock to his face, and smiles.

“I want you to take all of me,” Billy grips a fistful of my hair, tipping my head back so she has no option now but to look at him. “Do you understand? Every, single, inch of me.”

I nods eagerly, licking my lips.

“Good” He croons, stepping forwards as he pulls me towards him. My hands wrap around his girthy length as I purse my lips at his tip. My tongue swipes across, licking the precum away then hollowing my cheeks as I take him to the back of my throat. My body lurches forward as I gag, slipping me from her mouth. “Take it slow…”

I hear Billy choke on his own breath as I push my mouth down my cock, stilling when I get to the base and this time, I don’t gag.

“Shit,” He sucks in a harsh breath, and I slip him in and out of my mouth then twirls my tongue at his tip, I flatten my tongue and run it down the underside of his cock.

“Y/N,” Billy grits out, head tipping back as he grabs a bigger fistful of her hair, mouth slipping down his. “I’m going to explode,” He moans, moving my head up and down, teeth gently grazing along the sensitive skin. I pull him from my mouth, then spits on him. Rubbing my thumb over the tip of his dick. “Fuck. Open your mouth.”

I do as he says, sitting on my knees, eyes on him as, waiting with open mouth. I watch as Billy fists himself, keeping eyes locked on me.

His jaw clenches, head falling forward as pleasure consumes him. I just kneel up, taking him in my mouth as he wraps a hand around the back of my head, holding me there as he gently fucks my mouth. Saliva runs down my chin, my moans pushing Billy to continue.

“I’m going to come,” He grits, hips thrusting fast, cock slipping in and out of my mouth sloppily.

His eyes roll in the back of his head as I suck the life from him, lurching forward spurting down the back of my throat.

“Fuck!” He roars, a shiver blankets him causing him to shudder. I fall back, wiping the corner of her mouth before standing. Pulling me her towards him, Billy wraps his arms around me. We just stand for a while, completely forgetting where we are, just lost in this moment.

And in the aftermath, as our breaths mingled and our bodies trembled with the intensity of our shared release, we lay intertwined, our hearts still racing in the aftermath of our fiery encounter.

───── ❝ exposition ❞ ─────



School returned to its normal routine a week later, and during that time, Billy and I hadn’t crossed paths. The absence of his presence left a lingering sense of anticipation and curiosity within me.

Walking through the familiar hallways, I couldn’t help but steal glances, searching for that familiar mop of dark hair, those piercing blue eyes that had ignited a fire within me.

Billy sauntered into the hallways, his presence commanding attention as his eyes locked with mine. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. However, before I could fully revel in that moment, my view of Billy was interrupted by the boy from the party, who had approached me.

“Hey, Y/N, how are you?” he greeted, trying to engage in conversation.

I offered a polite smile, my mind still lingering on the enigmatic boy who had captured my attention. “Um, fine,” I replied, trying to keep my focus on the present as I opened my locker.

The boy seemed eager, perhaps misinterpreting my friendliness. “I was a little nervous to call, so I was hoping we could just go for dinner and a movie tonight after school.”

I hesitated, my thoughts momentarily shifting to the secret moments I had shared with Billy, the secret connection that still lingered.

“Oh, sorry,” I began, my voice gentle yet firm, “but I’m actually not interested.”

His expression faltered, a mix of surprise and disappointment evident on his face. I felt a pang of guilt, understanding that I had inadvertently led him on.

“But you…” he started, his voice tinged with frustration as he reached out and grabbed my arm.

“Please don’t touch me,” I firmly requested, pulling my arm away from his grasp. It was a clear boundary that needed to be set, a reminder that my consent and personal space were to be respected.

I could feel Billy’s gaze on me as I shut my locker, determined to create distance between myself and the boy who had approached me. With a resolute stride, I made my way down the hall and into an empty classroom, seeking solace in the familiar walls and quiet atmosphere. I sat on a desk near the front, my eyes fixed on the door, silently hoping that Billy would follow.

A minute later, the door cracked open, and I held my breath as Billy slipped inside. There was a mixture of curiosity and concern in his eyes, as if he had sensed something amiss and was now seeking answers.

Without uttering a word, I gestured for him to join me. He closed the door behind him, the sound of it sealing us off from the outside world.

Billy took a few tentative steps toward me, his expression filled with an unspoken question. I met his gaze, my eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions, a mix of uncertainty and longing.

Billy positioned his hands on either side of me. I could feel his touch, his fingers lightly brushing against my thighs, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Yours,” I whispered, my voice barely audible in the intimate space between us.

A smug smirk danced on Billy’s lips as he leaned in, closing the distance between us. Our lips met in a passionate kiss, a merging of desire. His hands explored my body, tracing tantalizing paths, leaving a trail of electrifying sensations in their wake.

But just as the intensity between us reached its peak, the sound of the bell echoed through the classroom, signaling the end of our stolen moment. With reluctance, Billy pulled away, his eyes locked with mine, both of us left craving more.

“We’ll continue this later,” he murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of promise and frustration.

Copyright © 2023 Altitude. All rights reserved.

[redux-iterum]

Imagine if the dog pack turned out to be 35 angry chihuahuas

Oh my god why didn't we do that

[bylrndgm]

a day free of girls.

oh, what a shame. what a rainy ending given to a perfect day.

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Expect clip posting to slow down due to irl nonsense.

Also from the 11th to the 18th I won’t have any computer access and very little internet access but I’ll schedule a couple clips beforehand for that week 🫡

[someguyingotham]

i thought the iceberg lounge was a gay club lmao u telling me the mfing penguin runs that place and he isn’t marketing exclusively to the lgbt community? okaaaay buddy

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

Elves rucking up a fuss about kinslaying when Beren killing the dwarves was fine are gonna get flamed so hard by reembodied kinslaying dwarf-friend Maedhros, I said what I said

[monstresvictimsxvengeance]

Murder family + being queer.

[14dayswithyou]

I just realized you already answered my ask sorry! What about veggies tho?

✦゜ANSWERED: AAAA I've already done fruits and veggies so I'll move on to drinks now!! Pov I am your waiter at a 5 star restaurant (the reviews were rigged)

Ren: Strawberry smoothie [REDACTED]: Any kind of energy drink Moth: A 7/11 slurpee at 2AM Violet: Herbal tea, possible chamomile or jasmine Elanor: Fresh lemonade Conan: Black coffee Jae: Tropical punch, or like a straw put in a freshly cracked coconut Leon: MILO Teo: Expensive alcohol Sewage water mixed with expired milk Olivia: Orange juice or boba <3

[betasuppe]

April 29th: deleting day.

[quinnception]

Who wants to be my date to an opera in February?