#but that wouldn’t make sense with how billy’s written in the first place

[ickypuppi3]

it’s so weird to me how they insert billy as this character who everyone’s attracted to and, from what the audience is lead to believe, is pretty popular, how they give him the best, most iconic introduction etc etc but then also try to spin the narrative that he’s unlikeable, how he’s ‘just a terrible person’ (in the duffer brothers words) and a villain akin to henry bowers

and it’s wild how that also goes with the way billy’s treated in the show too because in both scenarios it’s like- it’s fine to sexualise and objectify him but god forbid you like him, find him interesting or relatable or even feel any sympathy for him

[yikesharringrove]

He doesn’t know why, but he’s laying down.

It’s the first thing he realizes. A stupid thing to notice, but just one minute ago, he was standing behind the counter at Family Video, and now he’s laying down.

His eyes are heavy, and it feels like it takes a huge amount of effort just to open them.

He’s in a fucking hospital.

He knows from the stupid white color of the stupid drop ceiling tiles. From the stupid annoying beeping of the stupid heart monitor. From the stupid scratchy gown he’s wearing instead of his sweater.

He heard a muttered curse next to him, and slowly lolled his head over to look.

Hopper was sitting next to his bed, his hat balanced on his knee, looking grumpily at the crossword printed on the back of The Hawkins Post. Steve wanted to laugh at the image, the chief of police swearing as he scribbled out something.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that? Nobody knows what the fuck that is.”

“Blame Nancy,” Steve croaked. His head throbbed and he closed his eyes again. “She convinced them to add that. Said sales would go up.”

There was a rustling of paper.

“Smart girl,” Hopper said. He paused for a moment, and Steve felt like he needed someone to come and crowbar his eyes open or they would stay closed forever.

“You collapsed. Scared the shit out of your girlfriend, and everyone else at the video store.”

“Not my girlfriend,” Steve mumbled.

So that makes sense, why he was at work one second, and in a lousy bed at Hawkins General the next.

“You didn’t hit your head. Hargrove caught you before you went all the way down.”

Jesus, Billy’s reflexes really are something else. Steve’s gonna need to thank him for that. The last fucking thing he needs is another concussion. Maybe, to show his gratitude, he’ll suck Billy’s-

“I’m here because we need to talk about what the doctors found in your system.”

Steve’s mind went blank, and his eyes flew open.

Hopper was looking at him, his face an unfamiliar mix of sad, and angry, and fucking, disappointed.

Steve felt like he could vomit.

“They ran your blood. Routine E.R. shit, I’m told. But they found some, some substances that shouldn’t be there.”

Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat.

He knew the guilt was written all over his face.

“How long?”

“Since the summer.” He couldn’t look at Hop in the face. Not while he admitted this shit.

He was fucking stupid to think he wouldn’t be caught.

It’s a miracle Robin hasn’t walked in on him doing bumps in the bathroom at work, or Billy hasn’t found his stash tucked between the mattress and the box spring.

Hopper sighed.

“I know we all went through a lot last summer. With your friend getting trapped in the Upside Down, and you getting captured-”

“Tortured. I got tortured.”

Hopper sighed again.

“Getting coked up isn’t going to help anything.”

“What is this? Fucking Family Ties?”

He felt Hopper’s glare more than he actually saw it.

“It’s stupid-”

“You just don’t get it! Okay?” He really didn’t mean to yell, his head just fucking hurts and he’s so fucking stupid.

“Oh yeah,” Hopper snarked. “I fucking forgot. You’re the only person in the goddamn world that’s ever dealt with fucking drug addiction. So sorry.”

“I’m not addicted!” Lie.

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

Steve glared at Hopper.

“So, what? You’re here to arrest me?”

“No. I’m here to talk some fucking sense into you.” He shifted in his chair, the newspaper slid off his lap and fell on the floor. “You’re around those kids all the time. You fucking drive them around. You have been endangering their lives for months. And why? Because you can’t handle the trauma? We all have trauma. You think your friend Hargrove is totally fine after being stuck in that place? After realizing some fucked up doppelgänger was killing people? You think your girlfriend is totally fine after being tortured by the Russians too?”

“I don’t do it when I have to drive the kids, Hop I swear.” That, was the truth. “Okay, the other stuff, I get your point, but I need you to know, I wouldn’t hurt the kids like that, I-” the heart monitor was speeding up, getting louder in Steve’s panic. “You have to believe me, I’ve never driven them high.”

“Okay, okay. I believe you.” Hopper sighed again. “Just, why?”

Steve gulped.

“The Russians, they drugged us. They said it would make us tell them the truth. And I don’t know what it was, but fuck. It felt good. I couldn’t feel the pain, and I wasn’t scared, and I just. I didn’t know how to stop being scared.”

It was embarrassing.

Admitting that he’s been scared shitless ever since that first demogorgon dropped through the Byers’ ceiling.

Admitting he’s been doing lines of coke to keep himself from spiraling into inconsolable panic.

“I did some at a party, and it was the closest I felt to that feeling.”

Not technically true. He and Billy did some together last August, and it was like the fearlessness washed over Steve in warm waves.

But he can’t throw Billy under the bus like that.

And if Billy ever found out, that one night of drug experimentation between lovers turned into a full-on addiction, he’d never forgive himself.

There was a pause.

“Have you been snorting or shooting?”

“Snorting.”

“Okay,” Hopper stood up, stretching his arms above his head and placing his hat back on. “I’m going to tell your friends what’s going on. Not the kids, just Hargrove and Buckley. Joyce, too. Then, when you get out of here, you and I are going to clean out any stashes you’ve got. And we’re all going to be watching you like a fucking hawk.”

“Wait,” Steve croaked, his heart rate jumping up again, the beeping speeding up. “Don’t tell Billy.” Hopper shot Steve a look that said really? “Let me tell him. He needs to hear it from me.”

Hopper paused, on hand on the doorknob.

“Did he get you hooked? Is he on it too?”

“No! Nothing like that. Please? He’ll be upset unless I tell him.”

Hopper gave him a look that was a little too searching to be comfortable.

“Okay. Okay, kid. I’ll send him in. But he’ll know what’s going on one way or another. Don’t make me tell him that you’ve lied. Don’t think he’d appreciate it.”

He left the room without another word, leaving Steve to stew in his shame.

He’s such an idiot.

Why did he ever think he could get away with this and not one person would notice?

Even if they didn’t know he was regularly doing cocaine, Billy and Robin already knew something was up. They kept asking him if he was okay, coming over for impromptu sleepover parties. It was nice, he loves them both, but it was only a matter of time before the penny dropped.

It’s just embarrassing. That a routine blood test exposed the amount of uppers in his system. Exposed how little he’s dealing.

He rolled over, waiting for Billy to come into the room and blame himself for Steve’s stupidity. He didn’t want that.

Billy didn’t have a drug problem. He thought it’d be fun for them to get a little high and do stuff together. And it was! It was so fun, and they’d talked about doing it again.

Steve can kiss that idea goodbye.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Billy started following him into the bathroom to make sure he wasn’t doing anything he shouldn’t be.

It’s sweet, that his boyfriend cares so much about him that he would, hypothetically at least, do that.

But Billy’s got enough on his plate, and if Steve knows anything about him, it’s that he blames himself for shit just as much as Steve does.

He focused on the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Still elevated, his nerves for the coming conversation getting the best of him.

His head was pounding in a way that said it was time for his next fix.

He squeezed his eyes closed, willing away the need thrumming under his skin.

“So, you finally gonna tell me why you’ve been actin’ all squirrelly lately?”

[primaviva]

'Writes minors in unsafe situations'

But didn't you write Gwen as a serial killer?? Is that not an unsafe situation? Or does that not apply to you for some reason? Didn't Talia write a fic where she aged up Miles and made him have a baby?

Are you seriously mad at her writing a damn fanfiction? Y'all didn't seem to have issues with her before so it seems you just want to be mad about something. Stop with the picking and choosing

Don't be a hypocrite

“don’t be a hypocrite” don’t be senile bree…

let’s tackle this real quick. if you follow me you know most of my fics are based on COMIC gwen unless specifically said otherwise to the plot or the description, meaning she ages from 17-21 in my writings which is appropriate. that’s why most characters are randy, avril, harry, etc because i go off the comics that have more information and world building. and if we wanna keep going off your lopsided logic let’s bring up the actual scream movie since you’re bringing up ghostface gwen… baby billy was 17. stu was 18. do you know that this is because they were in their senior year and were legally becoming adults?? so it’s not crazy or unsafe considering they are gonna be damn near adults?? you tried, next!

now talia, let’s add some context. she never aged up miles so let’s start there. she also never made him and reader have a baby. what you are tryna do is spin the narrative, try to rationalize and reap together any last bit on brain fell to hit her with a “gotcha” moment and it’s not gonna work. and baby girl what’s w the inconsistency of not double checking your shit?? cus i stand on my business and who i associate with so i asked talia myself and also investigated which took two clicks.

let’s show you the fic, which literally summarizes the plot in the first two paragraphs.

notice here how…. it says they are in visions academy?? notice how…. it says that it’s the robotic baby project that most high schoolers get if their school offers a home ec?? it’s a cute, creative, well written, and completely wholesome concept.

yk what’s not safe tho? writing a fic of miles smoking and not aging him up which multiple people have come to talk to me about since they feel more comfortable to say how questionable the content you spit out is. the smoking thing wouldn’t even be justified with an age up, but at pests it would’ve showed some moral effort! whats not safe is writing a fic about reader indulging in drinking which is a clear self insert and making her go see miles while drunk. you know what else not safe? probably the most outrageous one sent to me but ITS NOT CUTE TO WRITE AN AGED UP MILES FIC WHERE THE READER IS A YANDERE, STABS HIS GIRLFRIEND NECK THEN SLASHES HER FACE, THEN ON TOP OF THAT KILLS MILES BY SLITTING HIS THROAT. take that in and reread the insanity.

context: reader finds out miles has a girlfriend, so she breaks into their place with a balaclava and knife. i don’t even need to tell you why it’s wrong and weird jus skim😭😭😭😭😭

stop picking and choosing when to apply common sense and critical thinking 🙏 especially on my page cus this shit is WEIRD. just accept your situation instead of tryna rationalize it with deducted views that aren’t even fact checked.

[majesticwren]

due to high demand - me. I'm high demand. this entire project is being written entirely for my pleasure, be warned I'm being extremely self-indulgent - I've decided to write a little prequel to the events that take place here. this is set in 2018 and is the beginning of Fletch x OFC. billy will have his own little prequel at some point. enjoy. a/n: please don't come for me I am heavily lingering into the angst and the toxicity and the drama only for the pleasure of it and this is my testimony be warned because we'll dive head first in it folks.

Trigger Warning/s: OFC is her own trigger warning she is damaged goods and slightly toxic and emotionally unavailable, kyle is a little baby, mark is being overprotective and extremely toxic sorry not sorry, alcohol consumption, mention of addiction, mention of heroin abuse, mention of sex, mention of trauma, mention of intentional overdose, swearing, smut!, unprotected sex (this is a fic, don't do this at home kids, know your sexed!), loss of virginity (Kyle's a baby, as already said), OFC is slightly dom, angst, mainly friends to lovers/impossible relationship dynamics.

nuclear season: part I -> | part II -> | part III -> prequel: <- part I | part III -> | part IV -> Masterlist

“I tell you,” Kyle chuckled, “you should have been there. I fell off the stool from laughter. I have never seen anything like it before in my life,”

They laid close to each other in a nest of covers and pillows on her bed in her messy hotel room. Music played in the background. Erika looked at his features, getting inebriated by the naïve, sweet look he had on his pretty face. His blushed cheeks and the lack of focus he had due to being tipsy were getting her drunk more than the alcohol.

“Well, then,” Erika raised the half-full bottle of tequila in a cheer, “I suppose that requires a hooray!” giggling to herself, she let her head fall heavy on the nest of pillows. She wasn’t even sure what they were talking about anymore.

She had tried so hard to stay as far away from heavily drinking for so long, that she almost got back to being able to feel tipsy and enjoy it. She hadn’t been completely clean, but she hadn’t gotten drunk in months. Until tonight.

Sobriety would have meant for her to have a clearer mind to take sensed, thought-through decisions, considering a whole lot of consequences and people involved. But that also meant she was supposed to face her emotions, which Erika had no intention of doing. Not after she had to face Mark’s words.

If her brother didn’t believe in her, what chance did she have?

She tried to escape her past, but it was just as her brother had said. A tiger wouldn’t lose her strips. She would have never become anything better than who she was. Forever branded like the unreliable troublemaker unworthy of the benefit of the doubt or any hope.

She had been so stupid for believing anything could change. That she had a chance to become something better.

And then there was Kyle. She didn’t even want to think about how heartbroken she was. It hurt so much to want someone so desperately and knowing so well she’d never have him. It hurt too much for her to bear. If she had been given the chance to be someone different from her past, maybe she would have thought she could make it. Maybe she would treat him well, give him the affection he deserved and trust him to give her the respect she needed. But she wasn’t different. She was the same girl she left in Australia, only lived in the United Kingdom and pretended to be someone else for kicks.

And now, she just knew she was going to break Kyle’s heart. It was a conscious decision she had made.

Instead of considering her options, Erika decided to take the familiar route of drowning herself in a bottle of tequila and making bad decisions. It was easy enough to forget about her dreams and expectations. And the more she fell into her drunkenness mess of incoherent stormy emotions, the more she became erratic and unpredictable, spiralling into a dark void. She was stuck in an ouroboros where she became the thing she feared the most to escape it.

And now, she was ready to stand by the rubble of everything she was going to ruin.

Before Kyle could grab the bottle from her grasp, Erika retrieved it to her chest, sending him a teasing look, challenging him to come and get it as she drank more of the bitter liquor herself. She hid her grin behind the bottle, chugging down a big gulp. No salt. No lime. No shame.

The liquid felt hot as it slid down her throat and into her stomach. Its warmth spread quickly through her and into her mind, making it difficult to focus on much more but Kyle’s lips.

“You are so pretty,” she whispered, deciding to push herself to break the distance between them and tracing his jawline with her fingertips. “Beautiful, actually.”

Kyle’s face became red all over. “Not like you,” he dared and then stole the bottle off her grasp and hid his timidity behind it.

She felt every inch of her skin itch to be touched. The small distance dividing them was so painful to endure. She felt the need to feel him. To have him. Hanging between their words and in their crossed gazes there was everything she tried to deny herself from feeling and all the space he allowed her to have, respecting her wishes. The difference was she was done being mature. She had taken her decision. Trying and act like the bigger person, getting away from everything toxic in her behaviour, didn’t bring her anywhere. So why keep fighting?

That was her last chance to make a sensible decision before ruining everything.

Fuck Mark.

She thought impulsively, getting distracted from Kyle.

Fuck him and all his empty promises and his pretended love. He didn’t deserve her to try. He didn’t believe she could, anyway. So, he wasn’t going to have the best version of her. He ripped her hope away and threw her in the dark. So, she was going to hurt the only person he cared about. And she had every intention of liking it. Kyle would have been delicious; she just knew it.

“I am so glad you are here,” she didn’t need to lie about that. She was aware of what she was walking into and what she would have done. But she truly liked him.

This time, she traced her fingers to his chin, close to his lips.

Kyle popped a timid smile, as he looked at her face. Words didn’t come out of his mouth. He was fiddling with his hands. So nervous and pretty, made her smile widen. Delicious.

Erika was naturally prompted to move to him, placing a hand on his chest. “What is it, baby?” She wondered in a low purr, pushing herself closer to him. “You are so nervous.”

“I didn’t think you’d call; you know?”

“No?” Erika decided it was time to get rid of the bottle of tequila, which she leaned over to leave on the bedside cabinet, before quickly going back to snuggling by Kyle’s side. “You haven’t noticed how I look at you?”

“I have. I do. I hope that you’ll notice me all the time,” he admitted, “but you made it clear you need distance, and that’s what I gave you.”

“And I appreciate that,” Erika wasn’t lying. Nothing of what she felt for him was constructed. She was truly enjoying spending time with him and wanted so much more from him that it felt difficult to breathe; even though she did ask him to join her only because of her quarrel with Mark, to prove a point, and was determined to break both their hearts.

If she was supposed to end up suffering, she was gonna do it in the sweetest and most prohibited way possible.

“I don’t want to have distance anymore,” Erika suggested, her eyes crossed Kyle’s face, soaking up his sweetness. She decided to encourage him to follow her queue by grabbing his hand and gently guiding him to place it on her stomach. He watched her do it holding his breath in his chest.

His touch was extremely attentive. Kyle laid his large hand flat on her abdomen, not daring to move. His skinny fingers were spread across her, feeling the soft material of the extra-large t-shirt she was wearing above a simple pair of booty shorts. Then, his hand moved ever so slightly, feeling her body underneath his touch.

A shiver crossed her. They were barely touching and she was already on fire. A soft sigh left her as the pleasure of his touch, even just so small, was already enough to make her stretch under him. She desperately wanted him to touch her all over and to feel him everywhere. She was ready to beg and had to bite her tongue not to. Not yet. That simple caress wasn’t enough – not even remotely.

Erika kept her hand on his, pushing him down into her belly, making him feel her. She needed him to explore her. She wanted him to desire to feel her just as badly as she did. Her other hand was still on his face as she was carried away by his timid look as he followed everything she did. There was uncertainty behind his eyes, but it was the edge of expectations he hung on that attracted her the most.

“Tell me what you are thinking,” she pulled his chin, making him look back at her. “I need to know what’s going on behind those beautiful eyes.”

Kyle tried to hide behind a chuckle, but his blushed cheeks gave him away. “What do you think I am thinking?” He wondered, trying to outsmart her.

Except Erika wasn’t playing. “I hope you are wondering what I look like when I am naked.” She dared, not stopping at how he choked on his breath. “And I am hoping you are going to put those pretty hands and lips into use soon.”

“God, Erika,” he whispered, trying to escape her gaze.

He hissed when she didn’t let him get away. “Tell me. Please, baby, I need to know. I need you.”

The way he shivered made her body react. Warmth flooded right through her, charging up her nerves and making her belly ache and her abdomen feel heavy. God, nothing about her desire needed to be forced in any way, Erika truly liked him and had been wanting him for a long time now. Only she had stopped hiding it away. Now it was her time to be selfish.

“Me too,” he admitted, leaning closer to her, enough to press his forehead on hers. “I want you so bad it hurts.”

She smiled victoriously and decided she was done waiting around. She pushed herself closer to him, brushing her lips on his.

Kyle took another few moments to warm up. He was awkward and uncertain, but surely ready to follow her queues, because, as soon as he battled with his shyness, he dived into her lips, kissing her with a hunger and desperation Erika was more than ready to match.

It had been so long since they kissed and she had missed his lips ever since.

There was a force pulling her towards him. How did she believe it possible to fight against her deepest desires?

She was such a fool.

Erika’s hand cruised across his neck and around his shoulders, pulling him down on her. She avidly studied the slim edges of his body, admiring the feeling of every muscle and bone she found, desiring to feel more. She needed his naked skin. His warmth. His everything.

Kyle weighing on her as they made out was so sweet and ravaging. She was already pretty unhinged and self-destructive, but now, nothing was stopping her.

Erika bent her leg and slid it around his thin waist, branching around him like ivy. She then guided his hand from her belly to her thigh, needing to feel his fingers on her naked skin. This time, Kyle was more courageous and took the initiative, squeezing her soft flesh into his hold. The soft moan he released, pushing himself against her, further into her arms, sent her ballistic.

Erika pushed him down on the mattress and hopped over his hips, straddling him. This time, lowering herself back down, she pushed her face into the crook of his neck, avidly kissing his skin and adoring feeling him tensing up underneath her, his choked breath was music to her ears.

Kyle took a few long seconds before feeling confident enough to wrap his hands around her hips. But then, he rewarded her by letting his hands explore her body, feeling dauntless enough to cruise up her spine and down one leg.

Erika pulled herself up sitting back into his hips and enjoying every inch of his body she felt underneath her. He was aroused. She felt his trapped erection poke her through their clothes. And, God, that was enough to make her head spin. Not thinking too clearly, she pushed her hands in between them, reaching for his belt, feeling the need to touch him.

However, before she could even realise her desires, Kyle froze and was quick to stop her. His hold on her was gentle but firm as he grabbed her hands and pushed them off him.

Erika sat back up on him, frowning. “What is it, baby?”

“Nothing,” he huffed, avoiding eye contact, “I just- would like to take it easy, for a moment.”

Looking down at him, she suddenly felt slightly uncomfortable with the idea that he may have not wanted the same thing she did, despite his clear arousal and desire for her. Though there was something in him, in his quickened breath and pink cheeks, and in the way his eyes were drawn away from her, that intrigued her even more.

She slipped a hand of his grasp only to grab his chin and pull him to look at her. “What is it, Fletch?”

“Nothing-” he choked. His entire face was becoming red.

Erika leapt into his eyes. “No. That’s not nothing.” She leaned in, brushing her lips over his softly, “Tell me.”

Kyle hesitated, looking at her for a long moment and then, with a defeated sigh, he shook his head. “I think I need a minute before we start doing stuff.”

“Ok,” she nodded, understanding and encouraging, not forcing herself on him. “Why? Are you ok?”

“More than ok,” he nodded, “please, don’t think I don’t want this. You.” He released her hand only to place his around her hips, giving her an encouraging squeeze. “Because I do. More than the world.”

“Then what is it?” She wondered softly, kissing gently his forehead and then cheeks, loving the way he moulded into her like a cat bumping his little face into her.

“I-” he choked on a secret.

“You can tell me,” She encouraged him softly, sliding her hand across the back of his neck and up his shaved hair, gently cradling him. “You can tell me anything.”

“I may not have as much experience as you think I do,” he revealed speaking quickly.

“That’s ok,” Erika pulled a gentle smile, willing to make him feel at ease. She had suspected it by the way he was attentive and soft and, if anything, it only made her more feral.

Though Kyle still shook his head. “No, you don’t understand.” He took a deep breath like he was trying to gather all his courage. “I’ve never done this before.”

Erika was stricken.

She froze on the spot, looking down at him.

However, her shock was soon gone. She was quick to cup his face into her hands, holding him ever so gently. “Are you a virgin?”

Kyle quietly nodded, face still red all over and puppy eyes so sweet her heart couldn’t take it.

Her chest was quick to warm back up and fill with a feeling so strong it made it hard to breathe. It was respect. It was affection. It was straight-up devotion, the second she realised the meaning of his words. And then it ripped her apart, as she realised he wasn’t only a sweet-looking boy she fancied. He wasn’t only a prohibited fruit she wanted to defile to prove a point. He was so much more than that. He was everything she wanted. What she felt rolling out of her chest, made her have to bite her tongue not to tell him how deep she was falling for him.

She attentively caressed his cheeks.

That wasn’t going the way she had planned. She had planned to do what she was used to, which was charming a boy into bed with her and watching her world burn. But now all of that was gone in the back of her mind. Now there was only their moment.

“Would you give it to me?” She wondered pulling his chin up, brushing her lips against his.

Kyle nodded without a second of hesitation. “Yes. Yes, please. I have thought about this so much. I just need you to go slow on me.”

“Oh? You thought about this?” Kyle whined and nodded in her hold, only attracting her attention more. Erika kissed the sides of his mouth, “When?” she wondered in a whisper, “touching yourself?” He whimpered, and then nodded again, only prompting her to pull his chin softly. “Use your words, pretty boy.”

“Yes. I did.”

Erika rewarded him with a soft kiss. “Thinking about me?”

“Mh- yes, it’s always you.”

“Fuck, Kyle,” she hissed as a shiver crossed her back, making her skin ripple in goosebumps.

There, right at that moment, as they both stood over an edge there was no coming back, Erika decided there was no past or future. They were only a boy and a girl who liked each other. There were no consequences, no regrets. Only what they felt and what they wanted.

And she desperately wanted him to be hers. Only hers.

Erika pulled him up in a kiss, starting with her plan by taking his lips. He melted underneath her, now wrapping his arms fully around her, caging in a hug and holding onto her like she was a lifeline.

This time, he was the one taking the initiative. He traced her chin with his lips and down her neck, pushing her to bend in between his arms, assaulting one of her most sensitive spots, tasting her skin.

“Yes,” she cooed with a proud smile on her lips, enjoying feeling his mouth on her. “I like that. Keep going.”

Kyle followed her words gladly, taking a liking to nibble on the sensitive skin under her ear only to feel her shiver and sigh in his arms. She whimpered when his hot tongue passed over the spots his teeth marked.

“Did you ever have a girlfriend, before?” she wondered breathlessly, sliding a hand through the longer hair on top of his head, feeling the need to grab on something.

“I am not that naïve,” he pointed out, looking up at her with a small grin, “I did stuff before, only not everything.”

God, he was breathtaking with his puffed-up lips, blushed cheeks and glimmery eyes.

“Oh, yeah?” Erika brushed her lips on his forehead, “what stuff?” She found it so arousing for no reason in particular, if not that he just became a thousand times more delicious to her. She wanted to eat him up.

Kyle went red again. “Everything else but sex.”

“Everything?” She kept wondering, tracing circles with her fingers across the back of his neck. “Like what? You had a little girlie who showed you how she liked to be touched? Or more than one girl, maybe?”

“Are you taking the piss out of me?”

“No.” She simply said looking down at him. “It turns me on. Tell me, I want to know.”

“Just one girl,” he sighed, giving her exactly what she wanted, “We were high school sweethearts, we were together for a little over one year, though it didn’t work out as soon as I started travelling with wrestling. It’s been some time now.”

“Was she pretty?” Erika causally played with his hair.

She wasn’t jealous. She had never been jealous once in her life, her ego was big enough to give her the confidence to know there was no competition with her. When she wanted something, she simply would have it. There was no other way about it. But she was proud, arrogant even, and she needed to know; she needed to hear it from his lips.

“Yes,” he nodded, “she was a pretty girl. Too pretty for me. But nothing compared to you,” Kyle didn’t disappoint her. “But you know that, don’t you?”

She pushed her index under his chin, making him lift his face. “I like to hear how pretty you think I am.”

“Breathtaking,” he revealed. The way his honest eyes glimmered, as he traced the soft lines of her features, gave her a shiver. “You look like you came out of a dream. But it isn’t only your smoky hot body or the way I’d fall on my knees every time you smile. It’s your eyes. When you look at me, I feel seen. I feel important.”

“You are seen,” Erika slid her hands around his face, making sure to be as close to him as possible, “You are important to me, Kyle.”

She shouldn’t have said it. She was well aware. But there were worse things she wanted to say just as badly. She wasn’t only falling for him; she was already there and had those three words on the tip of her tongue. She couldn’t keep it in anymore, her heart was leaping out of her chest and pouring straight into his. Erika had no control over the emotion that just overwhelmed her. But she forced herself to silence.

He may never know it. She had never been no one’s before, but she was his now. No matter about tomorrow or the consequences of all those damned choices they were making in that bed. A piece of her just left her and he had it to keep forever.

“I want to take off your clothes,” she instructed softly, her hands sliding down on his chest, hinting at her words. “Would that be ok?”

Kyle nodded quickly, only prompting her to reach for the helm of his t-shirt and pull it up and over his head. She then gave him a gentle push, hinting for him to lay back down under her. Kyle followed her queue obediently and let her feast on the view.

She saw him shirtless all the time while they worked. Sometimes around the house too. It wasn’t news. But it was entirely different now when she had his consent to study, tease and taste every centimetre of his exposed skin.

Her fingers followed attentively her gaze across his torso. His skin was soft and warm under her touch, feeling thinly stretched over his slim body. She followed the edges of his thin pecs and down the sternum to his abdomen. As she teased him, tracing her fingers lower to his belly button, Erika enjoyed seeing how his breath trembled in his belly. It gave her a hot shiver that crossed her spine and nested right into her abdomen, giving her the primal need to lower herself and leave a deep bite mark on his belly. Before she could get distracted over, her fingers cruised back up across his sides and ribs, feeling every bone under her fingertips, counting them.

Erika leaned down on him and, before he could move his arms to reach for her, she gently interceded him and made him bend them over his head. A confident smirk on her lips as she looked at him as she crossed his wrists and pinned him down, looking at him like he was his most precious possession.

“Do not move. Can you do that for me, Kyle?”

“Yes,” his voice was bent in a whimper that made her thoughts fog up.

“Good boy,” Erika rewarded him with a kiss on the lips and then moved on his neck. Her hand clawed around his jaw, pushing his head up, making him expose as much of his throat as possible just so she’d have free access to it.

She kissed and nibbled over his soft skin, having to assert the utmost control over herself so as not to leave visible marks. Even though marking him was the only thing she could think about. It was possessive, maybe wrong even, and yet, she wanted his skin to present the traces of her nails, teeth and hickeys.

Kyle moaned and stretched underneath her, bucking his hips up at her, trying to find some kind of release, as she sucked his soft skin into her mouth. It was enough to send them both insane. Erika passed her tongue from the base of his neck up to his chin. Feeling his Adam’s apple move under her muscle made her growl like a feral animal.

She then moved down across his body. Her lips moved to his shoulders as she nibbled on his collarbones and down his chest, where she enjoyed toying with his nipples, licking and sucking, only bringing him to arch underneath her and huff, blinded by pleasure.

“You need to stay still for me, baby,” she hinted as she moved down on him, crossing his abdomen with the tip of her nose.

Kyle still arched underneath her, extremely reactive to her touch.

God. And she hadn’t even got to his cock yet. She wondered what kind of little whimpers he would have offered as soon as she did.

Her hands moved across his hips and followed the edge of his jeans, moving slowly to the buckle of his belt. She looked up at him, making sure to study his reaction so she could stop if he froze again.

He didn’t. He hissed instead, arching and throwing his head backwards, letting her have a perfect view of his stretched-up body caged by the invisible chains of her will.

“Give me permission to take your pants off, baby,” she begged.

Kyle looked down at her, looking pretty and desperate, lust glimmering through his beautiful light eyes. “Yes,”

Erika started to undo his belt; her savvy fingers had no trouble with the buckle. “And then,” she started, looking back up at him, “I want to take you into my mouth. Would you like that, baby?”

Kyle let his head fall back, his chest trembled in a small whimper.

“Use your words, pretty boy,”

“Please, Erika,” he whispered, still keeping his hands above his head like he was tied down. “Yes. Do whatever you like to me.”

Erika acted frantically like her life depended on that moment. She opened his jeans and pulled them down on his hips, not letting herself look at him. Not just yet. She wanted to savour it. She pulled them down his legs, helped by him lifting his waist. They giggled innocently to each other.

Finally, once he was naked under her, Erika slid her hands across his thighs, feasting on his body.

A proud grin crossed her plump lips as she shamelessly looked at his erection. “What a nice surprise,” she teased, biting down on her lip, “such a big pretty boy with a big pretty cock,” she spaced her words willingly, adoring seeing him hang from her lips.  

Kyle was flustered, red all over his face and neck, and breathless, but didn’t hide from her. There was a certain level of expectation and ego hiding behind his curiosity. He wished to be praised. “All yours.”

His words crossed her like a spike, hitting her straight into her lower abdomen, and making her tremble. She felt her inside squeeze under the desperate pressure of feeling him inside of her. She had never experienced desire quite like that before.

“Mine.” She agreed.

His virgin skin was milky pale, making her feel the savage need to bite down on him, nibbling along his leg and up to his hipbone. A desire she gave into and responded to Kyle’s little whimpers with moans of her own.

She looked up at him, making sure he was just as lost in the moment as she was, as her lips traced across his lower abdomen. Erika was attentive as she rolled her hand around his cock, allowing Kyle to settle down into her touch. He flinched, but almost immediately relaxed under her, releasing a pleasureful sigh. Erika gently squeezed him in her palm, rolling her hand across his length.

A sharp smile crossed her lips. “Did I get your dick wet?” It was a rhetorical question. He was, in fact, wet, so to speak. But she still wanted to see him nod for her. “You are so fucking desperate; I haven’t even done anything yet.” Her hand followed her words across his cock as she dared to kiss its base, feeling the need to have a little taste of him.

Kyle moaned shamelessly. “I-” he tried to formulate words that only escaped him, mixing with whimpers.

She had never heard a prettier sound.

“What, baby?”

“Please, Erika, I can’t take it anymore,”

She was the one who whimpered now. Having him begging under her made her go feral.

Erika looked up at him, nodding. “I want you to do something for me,”

“Anything,”

“You are free to move your hands now. I want you to grab my hair as I suck on you. And I want you to pull it. And I want you to push me down on you anytime you want to go deeper into my throat.”

“Fuck-” he choked.

“Can you do this for me, baby?”

“What if I choke you?”

“God, baby,” she flicked her tongue along his length, stealing another moan and all of his focus out of him. “That’s the entire point. I want to choke on your cock.”

Kyle sounded like he could cry and she was done wasting time.

She knew well he wouldn’t have lasted long. And she was intentioned to milk every drop of the pleasure of his first time out of him. But she also wished to take it as slow as possible, just like he asked.

Erika traced his length, base to tip, with her tongue and then, she gently took him into her mouth, again allowing him to get used to the feeling of her hot mouth around him. Kyle moaned loudly, not losing a second to slip both his hands into her hair, grabbing on it more to brace himself than to control her movement. As he looked down at her, his mouth was open, pretty lips puffed and wet, his face bent in pleasure.

When she started sucking on him, Kyle was completely gone. He let his head fall backwards on the pillows and arched underneath her, whimpering and softly moaning to her every movement. Erika slid her hands up his chest, digging her nails into his skin, as she took him a little deeper into her mouth with every thrust.

Kyle followed his instinct, Erika’s lips closed around the base of his dick and he, holding her head firmly in between his hands, pushed himself as deep as possible into her throat. A shiver crossed as she felt him so deep inside of her. She released a suffocated moan that slipped right through him, shaking Kyle too.

“Fuck, baby I’m-” he gasped for air, “so close.”

Erika pulled back, releasing him and catching her breath. Looking up at him, she whipped out another sharp grin. “Do you want me to stop?” she wondered only pretending to be innocent. She had no intention of stopping.

“Not a chance,” Kyle then surprised her. He grinned too and, pulling on her hair, he hinted to her to climb back over him. “You are still wearing clothes,” he whispered as soon as she was close enough for him to kiss her.

Kyle took over. He moved her hair out of the way and kept a hand dug deep into it. She started to suspect he liked it to hold her like that. And Erika had no complaints about it. Erika threw her arms around his shoulders, enjoying his initiative. With his free hand, Kyle guided her to go back straddling him and then wrapped his arm around her hips, pushing her to sit as close to him as humanly possible.

His erection pressed on her hot core, making her head spin. It was the first moment she realised what kind of mess she was already. Her pleasure had been forgotten for a second, but now, she realised she had soaked her pants. Erika released a soft moan into his mouth as she rubbed herself against him, only giving him a hint of what to expect. She wanted to drive them both insane.

Kyle’s fingers squeezed the material of her large t-shirt, he then tugged at it and pulled it up on her figure. Erika helped him remove it and then welcomed how he moved on her with a giggle. Her body moulded on him as Kyle kissed her neck, down to her collarbones and shoulders, and lower again. His warm hands were quicker to cup her breasts, squeezing them; he followed quickly, not losing a second to suckle on her tits.

Erika’s head fell heavy as his tongue played with her hard nipples. Her stomach was invaded by a heavy wave of pleasure that slipped through her, making her skin feel tight as she stretched against him, looking to find release. A louder moan escaped her lips, only prompting him to grunt on her.

“Look at you,” she whispered brushing her smile on his forehead. “Little virgin pretty boy knows what he’s doing, uh?”

Kyle shamelessly bit her nipple, in return to her words, and then offered a cocky smirk. “I know some stuff.”

“Clearly,” she smiled, pushing a finger under his chin making him lift his face. “Can I fuck you, now?”

He trembled under her touch; his fingers squeezed her hips as he softly nodded. “Yes. I’d like that.”

“Yes, you would, baby.”

Erika downed on his lips, trapping them into a kiss. She caged his head between her arms and squeezed him against her as if she could push him into her chest and never let him go.

Kyle’s fingers hooked on the band of her booty shorts and pulled on them, teasing her. To which Erika reacted moving her hips, rubbing herself on him.

She broke their kiss, trying to catch her breath and think clearly, even though common sense still escaped her. It was too hot, he was too sweet and inebriating, and the tequila didn’t help.

“Ok,” she huffed, “do you know how it’s going to work?”

“I have access to the internet, babe. I’ve seen porn before.”

Erika smirked, shaking her head as they both blushed. “Ok, little smartass, don’t get an attitude with me,” she poked his chest, “or I’ll make you regret it and beg until you apologise to me.”

Kyle smiled, so smitten as he looked at her. “You like having control, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.” That being said, she pulled his hair, making him bend his head for her. “I’ll give you a pass because I am about to take your virginity,” only thinking about that made her stomach tremble, “but remember it next time. A brat gets punished.”

Kyle still smiled, testing her. “Careful, I might decide to punish you, one day.”

A shiver crossed her. They had no future, she was aware, and yet she hoped for it. She wished that one day, he’d make her whine and moan desperately under his control. “Let’s see if you can take it from me, pretty boy.” She decided she rather keep pretending that was only the beginning for them.

Erika pushed him down on the mattress and then got rid of her shorts, throwing them somewhere in the room. She was quick climbing back on him and, as soon as she did, she grabbed Kyle’s cock, massaging it into her palm and silencing whatever he was going to say. “You are so hard for me, baby.”

Kyle hissed, nodding as his hands cruised on her thighs. He bit hard on his lower lip, looking so pretty underneath her, it was insane. Erika pushed him against her bare core, rubbing herself against him and immediately was shaken by a wave of pleasure, feeling how hot and heavy his flesh was. “Do you feel how wet you got me?”

He whimpered softly, looking down at their bodies meeting. “Fuck, Erika,”

Every time he called for her name, she felt transported to another dimension.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

“Come here, baby. Sit up for me,” she suggested and was ready to catch him as soon as he did as she asked. She rolled an arm around his shoulders, keeping him as close as possible. She needed it. She had no intention of having an inch of space in between them as she took him deep inside of her. “I want you so bad.” Erika brushed her lips on his chin, accompanying her words rubbing herself against him once more.

Kyle trembled under her and then hissed, nodding. “Me too. Please, just fuck me.”

She didn’t let him ask her again. She was done waiting and teasing. It was time and there was no going back. She was already his. And he was hers. Only for that night.

Erika lifted her hips and positioned herself on him. She looked straight into his eyes, getting lost in them as she slowly lowered herself on his erection, taking him inch by inch as slowly as she could. Pleasure shot through her immediately, connecting her to him on a deeper level. She mirrored his expression as Kyle opened his mouth, welcoming feeling her squeezing on him and taking his virginity with a silent moan. She wasn’t quiet. He was shaken by a shiver as pain and pleasure mixed through him.

Erika sat still on him, giving him the time to process how it felt. He stretched her nicely, making her feel breathless. A proud smile quickly followed as she nodded, encouraging him. “Good boy,” she whispered, kissing the sides of his mouth, hugging him. “Pretty, sweet boy. All mine.” Erika kept lulling, getting lost in their moment.

When she moved on him, she watched him take a deep breath and hold it in his chest. Pleasure was slipping through her, making it so difficult for her not to get selfish and just take what she wanted.

“Tell me how it feels, Kyle.” Her words were accompanied by another slow thrust.

He rolled his eyes in the back of his skull as a small whimper shook his chest. “You feel-” his words were choked, “Hot. And wet. And so damn tight I can’t breathe.”

“Good?” She wondered brushing her lips across his forehead and down his nose, enjoying how he moved under her, responding to her naturally.

“So, so, good, baby.”

Erika hid her proud smile into his lips, kissing him deeply.

“I will go faster now, is that ok?”

“Please,”

Erika proceeded to ride him, bucking her hips up and down his cock with increasing speed, following the pleasure quickly mounting into her lower abdomen and spreading through her as he stroked her most sensitive spot inside of her. She didn’t care about being quiet anymore. On the contrary, she was as vocal as possible. She wanted him to hear exactly what he was doing to her.

She held onto his shoulders as her pleasure only grew, making her fingers claw. She dug her nails into his flesh, willingly leaving marks across his back.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” she cooed to his ear, enjoying the little noises he made in response.

“I am so close,” he whispered sounding so desperate it sent her feral.

“Do you want to come, pretty boy?” She wandered making him look at her.

Kyle nodded, letting her see how the pleasure of being lost inside of her shaped his face.

Erika pulled his hair, making him bend his head backwards and riding him mercilessly, determined to take what she wanted. Every drop of it. “Then let it go,”

He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing his fingers on every inch of skin he could grab. He pulled down on her hips, burying himself as deep inside of her as humanly possible.

“Kyle,” she welcomed him with a moan, letting her head fall backwards. She felt him in her stomach. He choked the breath out of her chest and she loved every second of it. To the point, she started wondering how she could have got back to normality.

Kyle quivered underneath her. His breath was shaken and broken, as he erratically mumbled her name, chanting it like a prayer. And then she felt him get stiffer as pleasure shook him. He found his release quickly and violently, suffocating a loud moan into the crook of her neck and letting himself go in between her arms.

Erika felt him unload inside of her; she felt every inch of him shake in waves of pleasure, that crossed straight into her flesh, pushing her over the same edge. Her pleasure caught both by surprise. She didn’t count on coming. Not the first time anyway. Instead, her orgasm mounted violently inside of her just a moment after him. Erika came calling his name in a soft whimper, praising him and cradling him into her arms. Her quivering body squeezed him into overstimulation, making him extremely reactive to her spasms, as he gifted her with small, pretty whines, not daring to push her away but letting her ride her high.

“Fuck,” she whispered, trying to catch her breath, “you are pretty good for a good, little, virgin boy.” Erika pressed grateful kisses on his forehead and cheeks, not hiding her proud, lovestruck smile.

“I can be even better,” Kyle looked up at her, so devoted she felt his gaze into her heart. His hands cupped her face as he pulled her into a soft kiss. “You know,” he began, stroking her softly, “what I feel for you, don’t you?”

Erika had to fight against the need to hear him say it. She knew. She knew so well. Her heart sang for him. She didn’t need his words to know that if she was ready to fall he’d be there to catch her. But she couldn’t afford to hear it. Erika pressed her fingers on his lips, gently shutting him up. “Whatever, you know? Don’t say it, Kyle.”

“Why?”

“Because if you say it, I’ll have to say that I do too. And that won’t be fair.”

“We just had sex. You were my first. And somehow this is worse?”

“No. Not worse,” Erika kissed his lips softly, “I can deal with sex. I know sex. I don’t know feelings. Don’t say it, Kyle, please.” She sounded so desperate.

“Ok,” the look he sent her was just as intense, “Whatever.”

Later, that same night, Kyle laid heavily on her, fast asleep. He passed out pretty quickly after their third round. Which was another surprise he had in store for her, just like the amount of pleasure he was able to give her. He was a quick, eager learner.

She wouldn’t have forgotten that night easily. Surprisingly, the good sex her little virgin pretty boy gave her wasn’t the only reason.

Erika was lost in the quietness surrounding them. Time had slowed down. She listened to his soft snoring and softly played with his hair with one hand and stroked his back with the other. His head was nested on her chest, arms caging her under him.

It was pretty good, she thought. It was something she so desperately wanted to get used to.

Maybe, she should have revised her entire plan. Maybe, she could have stood up to her brother and faced the consequence of accepting to be in love with that sweet boy. It could have worked. She could, maybe, deserve to be happy. If only-

Erika brushed her lips softly on Kyle’s forehead. “I love you,” she whispered ever so softly. A secret no one else could know.

The bright sun flooded the room. The morning was well started as birds sang outside, traffic flowed on the road by the hotel and people walked up and down the rooms, closing doors and dragging suitcases.

But the same couldn’t be said for the occupants of the bed. Erika was oblivious. Lost in her lazy slumber, drowning in soft pillows and even softer arms. She had woken a couple of times already but had decided to roll over and ignore responsibilities, only finding Kyle’s arms ready to hug her and pull her in a deeper, warmer hug. Why would she ever consider waking up when the alternative was that sweet?

A singing maid pushed her wonky trolley through the corridor. Erika vaguely heard it creak as it moved. But it was when it got slammed carelessly against the wall just outside her door that she was finally startled awake.

As Erika jumped up, Kyle too moved, rolling on his back and taking a deep breath in. Senses came back slowly to her at first; she had a second to recollect her memories, the room looked just as messy as she was used to having it, but she knew she wasn’t home, she was in a hotel somewhere in England. Essex maybe? Or Suffolk, it didn’t matter much. Then Erika was hit by a massive headache that weighed her head down. She felt it in her teeth. Behind her eyes. Under her ears. Into her fingertips and toes. Her stomach twisted.

“Ugh,” she hissed, letting herself fall back on the mattress, covering her eyes with her arm.

“’orning,” Kyle mumbled, stretching on the mattress next to her. “Did you sleep well?”

It took her a second longer to remember everything else. Mark. Kyle. The sex. The feelings. Panic started to set inside of her, making adrenaline fire up in her veins, giving her the familiar fight-or-flight feeling she was so used to dealing with running.

“Shit,” she kicked her sheets off, jumping off the bed looking for something, anything, to wear to cover herself up.

Kyle sat up, frowning, rubbing his hands on his face.

Erika took a moment to look at him, not even realising she had stopped only to think how pretty he was just awake, skin kissed by the sun. Or maybe it was everything they shared that made her want to drop everything else, slip back into bed and let him know how much she had no intention of letting him go, ever.

“What is it?” He wondered, leaning his head to the side, puzzled.

Erika got shaken back into reality and went back to her hasted movements. “You weren’t supposed to sleep here all night,” she warned directly looking at him.

“OK? So?”

“Get up,” Erika threw his t-shirt back at him. “You went M.I.A. all night, you know what that means? Mark has probably lost his mind by now.”

Kyle shook his head. “I don’t care, I am an adult. He’ll be fine.”

“No. He won’t.” Erika shook her head, “Trust me, Kyle. He won’t. Not about this.”

Kyle shook himself awake, trying to connect her words to a deeper meaning, even though his face remained only puzzled. “Slow down,” he hinted, moving to the edge of the bed to grab her by the arm and stop her erratic moving around. Kyle pulled her closer to him, and, against her better judgment, she let him. “Explain what’s going on to me, please?”

“I am kicking you out.” Erika sighed sadly. “And Mark can never know this happened,” she pointed in between them, “He won’t forgive me, ever. He doesn’t want me to be with you. He made it pretty clear last night.”

“Is that what happened at the pub? Why you left?”

“Yeah,”

“Erika,” Kyle tried to catch her gaze, “I don’t care what Mark thinks, I want to be with you.”

“No. You don’t. I have a past. I did terrible things. Mark knows every single one of those things. He knows better what’s good for me. You might be good for me, there’s hardly a person you wouldn’t be good for. But I am not good for you. He’s right on that.”

“Do I get an opinion about this?”

Erika looked up into his eyes, silently begging him to stop. “Please, Kyle, don’t go there.”

“Hey, hey,” Kyle cupped her face, making her look at him, trying to scoop her out of her panic. “I don’t care about all of that. Whatever you were before I met you won’t change the girl I fell for now. You don’t want to tell your brother? Fine by me. Just tell me you are ok.”

“I’m,” Erika was ready to slip off his hold and yet, somehow, there was something in his gaze that hooked her. “I’m ok,” she whispered leaning in to give him a quick kiss, “But you need to go.”

“Ok,” Kyle still pulled a cheeky smile, pulling her into a kiss. Then, he hopped off the bed and back into his clothes. “I’ll see you at breakfast?”

“Food. God, yes. Let’s hope we’ll be on time for it.”

He still hung by the door, looking back at her. His lips were bent in a stupid smile, his gaze, as he looked at her, was completely smitten. “For what is worth, I am glad we did what we did.”

She stood by a forked road; she was looking at her options and felt like both led to ruin. One represented something sweeter, that would have hurt so much more when everything would have gone up in flames. The other was jumping into the void now.

Erika was well aware of what she had been telling herself all night. She knew what she was supposed to do. What she thought was the best course of action. And yet, now, standing there, she was just a lovestruck girl, looking at a boy she liked so much her chest hurt only thinking about it. It was hard to breathe. She told herself she would have been able to shake herself back to normal. She was convinced she could have scratched that itch for him and then go at breaking his heart as if nothing mattered. Except she lied.

Her itch to scratch was only becoming bigger. About a lifetime size, right now. How would one shake that?

“Me too,” she admitted, pulling a soft smile. “Now go, you idiot,” she chuckled, hinting at the door. “I’ll see you later.”

As soon as Kyle left the room and Erika was left alone, her despair and torment took over her, stripping her of every good feeling and intention that was giving her a shred of hope.

She wasn’t going to be able to make him happy. Maybe for a few weeks, it would have worked, but not for long. She wasn’t enough for him. She would have never been enough, and when Kyle realised that too, it would have been the end of her. She was addicted to how he made her feel, now, because he didn’t know who she had been before and made her feel so good about everything she was and did. But what about when he’d look at her with regrets and resentment, realising he had made a mistake trusting someone like her?

Erika forced herself to shove those thoughts to the side and got in the shower, doing her best to delay the panic attack she felt mounting into her chest.

Breathing in the steam and getting lost in the soft smell of her fresh shower gel that always reminded her of a shower took in the evening after a long summer day spent at the beach was reassuring. She let the hot water run across her skin. It was a compromise between the sadness of washing away the traces of the night she spent with Kyle and the relaxation her tensed nerves found.

By the time she was done with the shower and brushed her teeth, it was almost ten o’clock and Erika had barely time to dress up and ran out of her room if she wanted to catch the breakfast. She needed it. She realised that besides a few chips and the tequila she drunk last night, she had been fasting since lunch the day before. She needed to eat some solid food, to drink a coffee and possibly some orange juice. God, she hoped to find some.

Erika entered the restaurant on a trot, welcoming the familiar smell of the breakfast canteen every hotel seemed to have with a soft smile. Most tables were being cleaned up. Most food from the buffet was gone, like the fresh pastries. But she made it. Nothing else mattered. She could see the filter coffee pot on the side and thought “life is good”.

She turned over, looking into the room, finding both Mark and Kyle sat at a table by the window. The table was a mess. Mark sat in front of Kyle, he had several stacked-up plates in front of him, already empty, probably from a while, and was enjoying some coffee, while Kyle was deep into his full breakfast. They were chitchatting joyfully, big smiles on both their faces. And Erika took a moment to just enjoy seeing them like that. She wished she had her camera on her. They were both so beautiful and without a worry in the world.

Her chest ached.

As soon as she moved, Kyle caught a glimpse of her and his eyes didn’t leave her. His cheeks immediately blushed softly as his bright eyes glimmered. There was something, in his gaze, that couldn’t be mistaken. He looked like someone who’d seen her naked. He gifted her a large smile as she approached the table.

“Hey,”

“Good morning,” Erika avoided eye contact, pushing her damp hair behind her ear as if that could mask the guilty look she had on her face. She knew Mark was looking at them, she felt his eyes suspiciously moving on her.

“Saved you the last croissant,” Kyle pushed the little plate with the golden pastry cooked to perfection closer to her.

Erika wanted to smack him, and at the same time, everything she wanted to do was to kiss him and express her utmost devotion to his sweet concern. She had to bite her tongue not to. Not when Mark was there.

They had no chance of trying to hide anything from her brother.

“Thanks,” again, she ignored Kyle as much as she could. Clearing her voice, she finally looked at Mark, finding him waiting. He read right through her. Erika immediately looked away, regretting every decision she took in the last twenty-four hours. “Ok, then, I’ll go grab myself some coffee.”

She turned over, leaving them both and went hiding at the buffet counter, weighing her options.

She could have made a run for it; the door was just to her left. Maybe there was a way to never face the consequences of her actions. Cowardice, for sure. But also, she felt it could have been easy to pack her stuff, drop her job and disappear. After all, how many times did she think about it before?

Erika made herself a glass of orange juice and gulped it down and then made another.

No. That was ridiculous. She could never do that.

Fake even when brought up in front of the crushing evidence that she was, in fact, in love with Kyle and nothing could erase what they did last night? Yes. That was better.

Erika poured herself a cup of black filter coffee, wondering if it would have tasted just as disgusting as any other hotel breakfast buffet filter coffee.

“The fuck is up with you two!?”

Mark’s sudden interruption startled her enough that she almost dropped her cups. “Shit, mate, you scared me.”

He casually poured himself a cup of coffee, even though Erika suspected that was just an excuse to get closer to her. “Don’t deflect, sis. What did you do?”

“Nothing,” she lied, shrugging.

Mark grumbled, shaking his head, so disappointed in her he didn’t even need to say anything to hurt her. “The way he looks at you it’s not nothing. And since when you are fucking shy!? C’mon, cut the crap.”

“What do you want me to say!? If I look at him you come at me because I do. And if I don’t you still-”

“Hey,” Mark pointed a finger in her face, “you think I am an idiot? I know you. What did you do!? Are you trying to stand up to me or something, playing with him in the process?”

Erika put her cups down and decided there and then that she was done. She wasn’t a coward who’d run away so easily or ignored the situation forever. Not anymore.

Anger flooded straight through her, firing up her nervous system, and making her squeeze her fists. “You think so little of me?”

“I think I know you. I think I’ve seen enough of your little whims and games. I think I don’t want to see you play with him and end up ruining him, just like you do with everything.”

“Mark,” Erika gasped, hit deeply by his words, shaking her head. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Can you blame me, sis?”

“You are supposed to be in my corner,” she was the one pointing at him now, openly confronting him. “You are supposed to support me.”

“Not with Kyle, I don’t. We both know you’ll get tired of him so quickly. As soon as you are done getting your ego fed by how differently he treats you, you’ll go back to seeking the thrill like you always do. Just leave him alone.”

“Say it,” she hissed. “Say how you think a good-for-nothing, junky, slut like me will never deserve someone like him. I fucking dare you.”

Mark huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll never say that to you.”

“Well, you already did. You are thinking about it. Might as well use the real words you are thinking, uh? Have the guts to go all the way, at least.”

“Fine,”

Erika gasped, feeling the air being taken out of her chest. She hoped until the end he wouldn’t agree with her. She gave him the benefit of the doubt, grasping on her last shred of trust in her brother, that he’d never go so low. And yet, she was wrong.

Of all the people in her life, even Kyle, Mark was the one most capable of destroying her.

And he just did.

“Fuck you,” Erika fought back her tears, not intentioned to give him the satisfaction to see how deeply he just hurt her. “Anything that will happen now it’s your fault. I want you to know. I want you to feel it. And regret it.”

“Erika,”

The second he tried to hold her, she pushed him back, spitting in his face. “No. You fucking bastard. You don’t get to annihilate me and shit all over everything I have done in my life, the good and the bad, in one minute, and then feel better about it.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? What are you going to do?”

“Break his fucking heart for one. I could have made him happy. Maybe,” this time she didn’t hide her tears. “But you had to happen to me. I hate you. And then I am going to shoot some heroin,” Erika smiled maniacally, “Hope to die in the process and stay on your fucking conscience forever,”

Pushing Mark off again, Erika stormed out, too shaken to even consider staying, too distraught to remember about her hunger or dehydration. Who cared about those things? They weren’t important anymore.

She needed to think. She needed space. She needed a smoke so bad.

“Erika, wait,”

“Kyle, get fucked,” she hissed, not stopping her march through the lobby.

“Baby, hold on,” he caught up on her easily and tried to grab her, only for Erika to immediately fight him too.

“What!? What do you want from me, Kyle!?”

Her harsh tone clearly hurt him. Part of her wanted to apologise and hold him and let him hold her and give her all the love and support he had in him. But the rest of her didn’t allow it. She wouldn’t have allowed anyone to hurt her like Mark did. She couldn’t trust anyone, ever. It would have made her only vulnerable. Weak.

Hurting Kyle got rid of the problem. He was the only person left who saw something in her. She sure didn’t anymore. And hurting him would have hurt Mark, just like he deserved.

It didn’t matter how much it would have hurt her. She was already in hell by that point, reliving everything she had done, everything she was and wondering why she ever tried to become better when there was no chance for her.

“I need to make sure you are ok.”

“Well, I am not ok. Do you know why? Because of you. Do you want to know what!?” She burst out, “I didn’t want to say anything before because I didn’t want to hurt you, but I want nothing more to do with you. We had sex, it was fun, thanks, I needed it. And now I got what I wanted and you lost your shine to me.”

“You don’t mean that, I know you don’t.”

“Watch me meaning it.” She turned over, walking out of the hotel, only to grumble when she realised Kyle was still there. “Stop following me around like a lost puppy,”

“Erika, stop for a second, will you?”

“Why?” She did stop. And she did face him. Ready to regret everything she was going to do from there to a minute time. “So that I can look you in the eye and tell you I don’t want to see you anymore? I’ve got everything you had to give and I am done now?” Erika’s conviction in the terrible things she was saying was so true all her lies seemed real. Even to her, for a second. Enough for her not to feel her chest being ripped apart by her own hands. The world was going up in flames around her and she was ready to dance in it. “I don’t need a lost little boy who still has to learn everything in my life. I need myself a man.”

“I-” he stumbled in his own words, genuinely hurt now.

“Make everyone a favour and go back to your silly little life, playing pretend on rings in small gyms in forsaken places around the country, and leave me alone,” she dismissed him turning around, digging into her hoody pocket in search of her cigarettes. “Go back to Mark.”

She knew it took him some time to decide to retreat back inside and when Kyle finally did leave her alone, Erika felt free to let her pain slash through her. Her shoulders bent under the weight of the rubbles of her crumbling world. Hope was lost. And she found some sort of comfort in her despair. It was something familiar that she welcomed like an old friend.

She cried quietly, hiding behind a corner, finishing her cigarette, hanging desperately on the nicotine fix like it was her only lifeline. When she was done, she immediately lit herself another and waited. She wasn’t enjoying it. She wasn’t taking the moment in and soaking under the morning sun, enjoying the warm air smelling of spring. The only thing she wanted to do was to run. She was only taking a second to gather her nerves up and make a plan.

Maybe it was time to disappear. Maybe it was time to go home. Who did she think to fool? She wasn’t so strong as she thought. She would have never escaped her past. It would have always ended up that way.

[marley-manson]

I mentioned something privately that @majorbaby asked me to expand upon so I’m just gonna make a post gathering my thoughts together.

Basically my thoughts on Bless You Hawkeye and what it says about Hawkeye. And note that I don’t apply real world psychology to fictional depictions. I’m coming at this from a strict narrative analysis perspective, I don’t care how trauma works in real life, it’s not relevant to my understanding of a 70s sitcom that loves talking up Freud lol.

So like, I definitely get why there’s extensive fanon about Billy being anywhere from a petty bully to a rapist, but it’s only fanon, and the Billy is an asshole take actively contradicts textual canon. Hawkeye thinks of him fondly, calls him a great guy, presumably knows him to an extent as an adult too since he uses the present tense, and has nothing but good things to say about him.

Hawkeye isn’t uncovering a deep dark secret that changes everything, or for that matter, anything, about his life overall. Billy is presumably a decent guy today who acted like a typical 13 year old boy once and horsed around on a boat too much and was probably afraid to get in trouble so lied about it. There’s nothing that suggests malicious intent, attempted murder, or any other kind of abuse. (Note that the line about looking at magazines with pinup girls in them together is idyllic childhood male bonding in context, I promise you that in a 70s tv show that was not written to imply grooming lol). Billy’s fine, and Hawkeye’s pretty much fine.

This episode isn’t a revelation that Hawkeye was abused or suffered greatly as a child. The focus of this episode is on how Hawkeye reacted emotionally to a betrayal, not on how the betrayal affected him - because it doesn’t, particularly. It’s a subtle but important distinction.

I’m not saying it can’t still be traumatic, and it clearly is to some extent. I mean it was a near death experience, and the psychosomatic effect of partially remembering is debilitating for a couple days. But like, the extent of Hawkeye’s actual trauma is mild, lbr. Hawkeye has a neat little breakthrough and he’s cured and makes jokes about it at the next poker game. No lasting effect, no follow-up sessions, no grand revelation about how it could have affected Hawkeye as a person growing up. And I know this is an episodic sitcom lol so I wouldn’t expect it to be followed up on in later episodes, but it’s not even implied to have further reaching effects the way, say, Hawkeye’s ongoing trauma is implied in Hawk’s Nightmare, or the lingering effects of his breakdown are shown in GFA. They could’ve easily given Sidney a line about coming back a week later for a check-up, have him mention that while the psychosomatic effects are cured by remembering, it’s still something to work through in the future. Or Sidney could’ve just... suggested that it had an impact. “Maybe that’s why you do/feel/think X.” But no, Hawkeye is cured by remembering, the end.

Honestly I think this is a flaw of the episode lol, I’ve read an interview about Alda and the writers working to try to make it less ‘pat’ and I’m not sure how successful they were. It’s clear they wanted to write a Hawkeye story about the psychosomatic effect of a buried memory, probably in part to help set up GFA, and it kind of ends up standing out like an awkward sore thumb due to being so episodic and self-contained. It’s dramatic enough that it feels like it should have more of an impact on our understanding of Hawkeye at the very least, but it just doesn’t go there.

This is why I like to apply it to Hawkeye’s relationships with the army volunteers lol, to try to impart that sense of weight that’s missing from the content of the episode itself. Hawkeye wants to say he hates someone for harming him, but he can’t because he loves them. He thanks them for saving his life while ignoring and burying the fact that they’re the one who nearly killed him in the first place. I mean, is that not a perfect description of his relationship with the army volunteers, in the alternate version of late Mash that acknowledges how fucked up the military is?

That’s just my headcanon of course. But hey, like I mentioned, at the very least Bless You Hawkeye is still a statement on Hawkeye’s character. It’s not a revelatory statement, it doesn’t change our understanding of his character or relationships, and it doesn’t foreshadow any future relationship drama (unless you really want to stretch it and apply this to BJ’s evil pranks lol, but I doubt very much that’s deliberate). But it’s a good summary of the kind of guy we already know Hawkeye is: someone who sees the best in the people he loves, and prioritizes that love over hate.

Basically I guess my point is that Bless You Hawkeye is actually a relatively shallow episode that doesn’t justify the amount of drama it aims for lol, and it in no way suggests that childhood trauma has shaped Hawkeye’s life, personality, or character at all, but his reaction to that trauma reflects his character well and it’s a good, solid statement on who he is as a person.

[marvelslut16]

The one with two Pietro’s

Pairing: Pietro x reader, Wandavision!Pietro (Peter Maximoff) x reader FORCED 

Synopsis: you find yourself in Westview living with Wanda, Vision, the boys, and your boyfriend Pietro. But happens when you start to remember your Pietro and figure out what Wanda’s doing to you and everyone else? 

Word count: 1.4k+

Warnings: Swearing I think. Angst. Fluff if you squint. Mind control. Forced relationship. Briefly mentions the idea of a forced magical pregnancy. Bullet wounds. Death. Grief I suppose. Mentions pmsing. The over use of italics. Kinda feel like I make Wanda a psychotic asshole. SPOILERS FOR WANDAVISION!

A/N: This was so much fun to write! Probably the darkest thing I’ve ever written, if you can really call it dark. Writing for Wandavision was a fun little challenge. Takes place in the 90′s so my title is a reference to friends, and so is a tv show character I use in the one shot. Pretend Evan Peters’ hair isn’t that blonde cause I will always see him with the silver he has in xmen and wrote him as such. 

"Vision, that's not my Pietro," you mutter in horror to your friend as the two of you stand in the kitchen. 

You’re not quite sure what makes you say it, but you’re glad you do when you glance at the new Pietro in the living room, he's been playing video games with Tommy and Billy for close to an hour now. He's sweet and funny, but he's just not your Pietro.

"I'm afraid not, (Y/N)," Vision's voice is sullen, but he's glad you're not in on Wanda's mind games. Unless you are, and this is just another way for Wanda to mess with him. He’s not quite sure what’s happening, but he knows from what you’ve reminisced in passing to him about Pietro on nights when Wanda isn’t in the room, that that’s not the Pietro you know and love. 

"Oh my god," you murmur, hand coming to your mouth as little bits and pieces of memories race through your head. The genuine pain, horror, and sadness that cross your face make it obvious to Vision you're being manipulated like everyone else, even if you are Wanda's oldest friend. "My Pietro, he had an accent."

Your knees buckle when you hear his native accent saying his catchphrase in your head, 'you didn't see that coming.' Vision rushes to your side to help you stand more firmly.

"His face was longer, hair a white blonde not silver, his body more toned, and he had gorgeous blue eyes- bluest eyes I've ever seen," you grip onto Vision's arms as you imagine moments with your Pietro.

You grew up in the cell beside his and Wanda's, immediately forming a sisterly connection with her at a young age while Pietro hated you. He would tease you, pull on your pigtails, and steal some of your food on the off chance you three were eating outside of your cells. Over the years the teasing turned to flirting, and your dislike for him turned into a huge crush.

One night-a night you can normally remember with full clarity- after Hydra fell and before Ultron, the two of you were out on a walk, much to Pietro's chagrin. You were telling him about this new book that you were reading and how the characters annoyed you so because they were obviously in love but wouldn't admit it. Pietro zoomed in front of you, causing you to smack into his chest and almost fall to the ground, you would have if not for Pietro's arms wrapping around your waist and bringing you close to his toned chest.

The wind was blowing his hair into his eyes ever so slightly, so without thinking you reached up to move it out of his face and away from his eye. The small act of tenderness that you had displayed caused Pietro to give into his desires, he leaned in and his wind chapped lips descended onto yours. You melted into the kiss, clinging tightly to his biceps to ground you. One of his hands slipped down from your waist to squeeze your ass, the other wrapped more tightly around your waist and kept you anchored to him.

"I love you, Printesa, I have since we were kids," he admits when you pull apart for air, leaning his forehead on yours.

"I love you too, Quicksilver," you use the superhero nickname he gave himself when you were twelve. He grins before attaching his lips to yours once more, it was an unforgettable kiss that filled you with warmth and hope for your future.

"(Y/N), are you okay?" Vision's voice brings you back to reality, or whatever this is.

"No," your voice cracks as you remember the last kiss Pietro planted on your lips, right before he protected Clint. The memory that still haunts your dreams, seeing him with all those bullet holes and knowing there was nothing you could do to save him. "What kind of person forgets the love of their life? I'm a terrible person Vis!"

"No you aren't (Y/N)," the sincerity in Vision's voice makes you really believe him. "Wanda's doing this, she didn't want you to remember."

You gasp as another memory floods your mind. You had agreed to go on a road trip with Wanda after being resurrected from Bruce's snap and defeating Thanos. You both wanted a break, or so you thought.

Wanda had stopped right when you had passed the entrance into Westview, she claimed to be checking her directions when you asked why she had stopped in the middle of nowhere. And no matter how weird it was that she chose to stop at the border to the town and not at a gas station, you believed your best friend and sister in law because she had no reason to lie to you.

A moment later her eyes and hands were glowing red as she touched your temple. She pushed all your memories behind a wall in your brain, then filled your head with memories of a happy life with her and Vision in Westview.

She did it again when 'Pietro' showed up on your guy’s doorstep, this time filling your head with memories of him. Memories of a different first kiss, but an eerily similar first date to the one you and your Pietro had. It makes sense to you now, you and Pietro had never told Wanda the real story of your first kiss, instead telling her you had it weeks later on your first date. You had tried to keep your relationship a secret for a little because you didn't want to make it awkward for Wanda if it didn't work out.

Another thing she didn't add was your engagement and subsequent marriage to her brother. In this reality you and 'Pietro' are just dating. You have to assume that it's because it happened weeks before the battle against Ultron and she doesn't want to remember anything that close to her brother's death.

The thing about the new Pietro is that he seems to rub Wanda the wrong way, something your Pietro never did. He makes comments that you know yours would never, and Wanda always tenses up near him. This Pietro likes to show you off more than yours did, which is saying a lot because your’s used to cling to your side, praise you, and show you off in town when girls would flirt with him. Every time this Pietro kisses you it doesn’t feel right, it’s nowhere near the earth shattering kisses that you had somehow managed to remember from the deep parts of your brain. 

"My ring," you shudder in horror when you realize the diamond ring that your Pietro stole from the jeweler in Sokovia is no longer sitting delicately on your left ring finger like it was before entering Westview. You hastily search your body for your most prized possession, sighing in relief when you find it hanging from a simple silver chain around your neck.

"(Y/N)," Vision says gently, resting a hand on your shoulder, it’s one of the few times he doesn’t know what to say. 

"He's dead," you cry, knees buckling under your weight again. This time you catch yourself on the kitchen table, before sinking in the seat to your right.

"Who's dead?" Wanda appears in the doorway out of nowhere. She has an innocent, concerned expression on her face, but the tilt of her head tells you she'll come take your memories away again if you slip up in the slightest.

"Dr. Drake Ramoray on Days Of Our Lives, the soap opera I was watching this afternoon when you and the boys were out. He fell down the elevator shaft, and I'm apparently taking it harder than I thought I would. I must be pmsing or something."

"Or maybe you're pregnant," there's a red glint in her eyes that scares you to no end.

"Oh," you swallow the lump in your throat, and hold back the bile rising up your throat from anxiety. "I don't think so, I'm not ready to be a mother yet."

"It would be so fun though," 'Pietro' zooms behind your seat, leaning down to place a kiss on your cheek. "Little mini me's and you's running around the house with Billy and Tommy."

"I think two super human children are enough for the house right now," you let out an uncomfortable giggle. You and Vision side eye each other, both very aware that you'll probably be as pregnant as Wanda was a few days ago within the week.

[castiellesbian]

I love Jack. I love Sam and Dean. But it should have been Cas and his deal that ended up defeating Chuck. It just makes narrative sense.

Instead of using the Empty to take out Billie (who up until the last few episodes wasn’t even an antagonist but a neutral ally), Cas should have summoned it in the finale confrontation with Chuck. After all, Cas was always the one that Chuck couldn’t control, the ONLY one in the entire multiverse that deviated from the written plan. Cas’ love for Dean should have been the great act of free will that ended up saving the world. It should have been love that defeated God, love for humanity, love that was never supposed to exist in the first place.

[insert Marianne Williamson meme about “harnessing love” to defeat evil lol]

What’s more, it would have been a great way for Cas to step in as a father to save Jack from an ultimately destructive destiny. In accepting his happiness and his RIGHT to happiness, he would have then been able to show Jack how vital that is to accepting ourselves. We don’t need to be useful, we just need to be ourselves.

There was NO reason to vilify the most significant black character in the entire show. There was NO good reason to not have Cas involved in the final fight despite it being textualized that he was the ONLY one who disobeyed Chuck. There was NO reason to make Jack, a child who had never been allowed to BE a child, become God. The only reason why the cards fell the way they did is because Sam and Dean needed to end up alone in the final episode. (Still doesn’t make sense that Eileen wasn’t even mentioned but I will grit my teeth and move on). Jack had to become God so he wouldn’t be there in the end. Billie had to be evil so that Cas would use his deal to take out her instead God. Cas needed to die in the third-to-last episode because god forbid the show be about anything other than the brothers

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

Dog Tags

Billy Russo x Female!Reader

Request by @nebulastarr​ : Hey! Whenever requests open up again, could you do a Billy Russo x Reader where the reader liked Billy but doesn’t want to tell him because she thinks he won’t feel the same way

A/N: I was going to wait and get down to writing this once I was finished with my series... But this one has simply hit a little too close to home. I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I saw it and I ended up putting a lot of personal stuff in it so I’m sorry if it feels chaotic at times. Thank you for requesting, love, I hope it lives up to your expectations.    The Only Living Thing series will be back with its third part next week.  The song: Isak Danielson - Power

All you heard was an excited scream, that raised above all of the New York’s past-6-pm commotion, as a slender tall body smashed into you, locking you in a bone-crushing hug. You laughed happily, albeit feeling a little bit uncomfortable in Karen’s strong hold. You knew it didn’t seem that way, but Karen packed a wicked punch in those elegant arms of hers. Those self-defense sessions with Frankie boy that she’s been gushing about over the phone must have been finally paying off.

“Once I am done hugging you, I am so kicking your ass,” she breathed out into your hair as she squeezed you harder, as if reading your thoughts. “You’ve been ghosting me for what, a month now?”

You sighed guiltily as Karen pushed you slightly away, keeping her hands on your shoulders. You watched her as she studied your face, a creeping smile stinging at the corners of her mouth.

Grabbing one of her elbows, you groaned dramatically, pulling her towards the busy road. With your hands locked, you finally admitted:

“I did suck at communicating these past couple of weeks. Work’s been…. hectic”, the lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but this was the best explanation you’ve been able to come up with so far. “Please don’t kill me”.

Trying to keep up with your power walk, Karen let a bubbling laughter leave her lips.

“You’re not the one who should be worried then,” she gave you one of those bright trademark smiles of hers. “Next time I’m going to interview Russo, I’ll…”

You stuttered at her tirade as you walked, and of course it didn’t go by unnoticed. Karen was the best journalist you have ever met during your prominent career. She just sensed that sort of thing.

“I’m getting this ‘I-meant-to-tell-you-Karen-but-I-didn’t-and-now-you’ll-need-to-fight-it-out-of-me’ vibe”, she gave you a scrutinising look. “Want to maybe share whatever it is you’ve been not telling me before I go full interrogation mode on your plump backside?”

You rolled your eyes as you led her to a terrace-ringed Upper East Side high-rise, waving to the doorman through the glass doors. Jackson, a thirty-five year old ex-military with three kids and a labrador, gave you a brilliant smile as he hurried to open them for you.

“Good evening, Mrs Y/L/N!” He bowed his head in a stiff, very army-like manner. “A package arrived this afternoon for you, should I bring it up?”

From the corner of your eye, you caught Karen looking around, confusion written all over her face. You had a lot to catch up on.

“Don’t worry about it, Jax, just give it to me,” you didn’t mean to urge him, but you couldn’t wait to change out of your corporate attire into some comfortable old pyjamas and crack open a bottle of whiskey - that’s right, some habits did die hard. And to think you were a bubbles-kind of girl a year ago when you met him.

You could feel Karen’s blue eyes drill a hole in the back of your head as you took a small, envelope-sized package from Jackson’s hands.

It wasn’t until you both stepped into the elevator that Karen cleared her throat.

“When you said you’d rather have a girls’ night in, I asked Frank to pick me up from Queens, not from…here,” she spoke, her eyes skimming expensive red wood and mirrors. “Did you finally sleep with Russo and moved in with him?”

Whatever it was that Karen expected you to say to that, it definitely didn’t include you spitting out a roaring laugh, as you nearly dropped the package on the floor.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” you informed her after you finally restored your breath. “I left Anvil. And, well, Russo. At the end of last month”.

—

A half-bottle of whiskey for you and a bottle of white wine for Karen later, both of you were sprawled out on the lambskins thrown over the hardwood floor in your living room. Jazz music was seeping out of the speakers by the TV, a couple of Diptyque candles emitting a soft yellow glow.

You stared at the ceiling of your new living quarters, your mind a blur. As you folded your hands on your stomach, you felt Karen twitch as she bent her elbow and leaned her blond head on the palm of her hand, facing you.

“So let me get this straight,” she paused, narrowing her eyes. “After becoming the Forbes’ hottest CSO, concluding what can easily be described as deals of the century - especially the one with Anthony Stark aka Iron Man and his magnificent goatee…”

Involuntary, you giggled at this. This talk brought out some very dear memories that you wouldn’t trade for the world - the way Billy’s dark eyes shimmered in the dim lights of the opera house as he gave you a look that said you did it, ever the perfect team… Or the way he threw his arms around your frame, his long fingers sliding down your back… You knew you looked good in that dress, but the moment Billy saw you wearing it… You felt like the only girl in the world, the way his jaw dropped a tad, his lips opening up in awe…

Oookay, Y/N, can’t go there, your mind screamed at you as you wiped that dreamy smile off your face. Sitting down, you took your whiskey glass, and washed those memories away with a gulp of amber liquid.

Meanwhile, Karen ranted on.

“…you just quit?!”

She jumped to her feet all of the sudden, brushing her blond hair away from her face as she watched you excitedly.

“Jesus Christ, did Billy make a move?! He made a move on you, didn’t he?”

The urge to facepalm was fierce, almost overpowering, but you managed to resist. Slamming your empty glass against the floor harder than you intended, you gave her a bored look.

“No, Karen, why… Why in the world would you think that?” You sounded just a little short of desperate, so you cleared your throat. “I was his second-in-command, that wouldn’t have been appropriate…”

When you were done studying the flame, dancing within the glass walls of one of the nearby candles, you raised your eyes to meet Karen’s. She wore quite possibly the most blatant look of ‘you are shitting me’ on her face.  

“So you just quit?” she stared at you in disbelief, unblinking. “No explanations provided?”

“This wasn’t how it happened,” you said, hating the fact that you felt like you had to justify yourself. You brought your knees closer, hugging them tightly. “I…”

—

“…I’m here to see William Russo”. 


With a nonchalant gesture, you unbuttoned your Burberry coat, looking at a red-head secretary behind a desk that screamed power and status with every inch of its epic proportions.

Anvil was certainly new money. With all of those hedge funds injecting their cash into emerging companies, there was no shortage of these - entrepreneurial endeavours that didn’t last long.

You didn’t know that at the time, but you were going to make sure this one would.

“My name is Y/N Y/N/L,” you added, perching your sunglasses on top of your head. “He’s expecting me.”

The red-head gave you a polite smile before checking something on her Mac.

“Welcome, Miss Y/N/L,” she almost seemed shy, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before standing up. “Mr Russo is indeed waiting for you. If you would like to follow me, please”.

As the redhead led you through the training grounds, packed with fit men and women that looked like they walked straight outta Gym Shark ad, you did notice a couple of vagrant stares in your direction. You couldn’t blame them. You looked slightly out of place; more Vogue than the setting allowed for.

You quit your job as the COO of a global FinTech company just weeks ago, looking for a new challenge. It was an adventure of a lifetime, and while your ex-executive board had literally begged you to stay, once you’d decided something, no promise of a generous promotion could make you change your mind. While you absolutely loved your job, working for one of the most prominent online payment giants in the world, it felt like it was time for you to step down. Due to all the processes and wise investments you’d initiated, the company could make millions of profits without their CEO having so much as to lift a finger.

And you, well, you lived for the hustle. And that’s exactly what you were here for.

You still had your doubts about Anvil’s owner and acting CEO, though. William “Billy” Russo had already become a household name in the financial circles, albeit the company he was spearheading had little to do with the FinTech space. Some said he had the potential to succeed; others badmouthed him for being ruthless and balancing on the very edge of legal limits.

In short, the man had you intrigued. So the very moment he called and invited you to drop by Anvil to talk strategy, you knew you had to meet him.

See the beast for yourself, so to speak.

The first thing you noticed about William Russo as you walked into his office, spacious and entirely transparent, with its glass walls overlooking the training grounds, was experience, for the lack of a better word. It was etched into his every handsome feature, especially into his scruff strong-willed jaw. As he raised his gaze to meet yours upon the red-head’s announcement, his black eyes swallowing you whole, you realized no light reflected on their surface. There was a certain confidence to him as he raised from his chair, his white shirt straining some over his chest, long dark strands of hair falling onto his long eyelashes. This man meant business, as those black impenetrable eyes zeroed in on yours. He almost seemed too flawless - to spotless to be an ex-marine, stained with blood and murder.

All that Hallmark handsomeness was nothing but a cover.

Before William Russo had even got a chance to open his mouth, you were determined to find out what was lurking underneath.

“Mrs Y/L/N”, the hot-shot gave you a polite smile. “Thank you for coming”.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Russo”, you didn’t move an inch. He may have invited you for interview, but he wasn’t the only one with a long set of demands.

You briefly wondered if he knew that.

Before your thoughts could take you further, William Russo made his way to you, composed and calculated. He stopped by your side, albeit for a moment; rolling the sleeves of his shirt further up, he shot the red-head a charming smile (nothing like the one he gave you).

“Olivia, would you please bring a fresh pot of coffee to the conference room? Mrs Y/L/N and I have a lot to discuss”.

When he turned back to face you, you noted unconsciously that he was taller than you expected, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders. The cool and composed look was back on his face as he motioned towards the doors.

“Would you like to follow me, Mrs…”

“Y/N”, you cut in with a slight raise of your chin. “I’d also prefer to call you William while I tear Anvil’s strategy down”.

His reaction didn’t disappoint. Some tension left his arms, his stung-up body relaxing just enough for a spark of mischief and curiosity flicker its way to his eyes’ surface.

A twinkle of a smile danced across his lips as he bit on the inside of his cheek, nodding ever so slightly in approval.

“It’s Billy”, he said, amusement echoing in his every word. "I don’t expect any leniency, Y/N”.

“Good”, you replied instantly, looking him straight into his eyes. “That’s not what I came here for”.

He nodded again.

And this time, there was liveliness in the quirk of his brow and a touch of insecurity in the corners of his mouth.

Now that was the man you could potentially work with.

—

Working with William Russo was anything but predictable. There were, however, certain patterns to his way of handling things. Whatever the trouble was, Billy was good at seeing the bigger picture - he was usually able to put things into perspective, but there were occasions when he refused to. You dare say that sometimes, you felt like he thought that money didn’t matter - like Anvil’s financial prosperity didn’t matter - as long as his team got not to risk their lives one extra time. You watched him turn down several lucrative deals that you’d busted your ass to put on his table, because it involved sending his men a little too far from home, in a place where he had no strings to pull whatsoever should anything go south. A part of you (the part that wasn’t frustrated as hell) admired him for that - it didn’t, however, stop you from disagreeing with him, time and again.

You may have never been to Iraq, and may have never known the horrors of sleeping with the bombs exploding a mere kilometer away, but you knew a game-changer when you saw it. There were risks involved, there was no arguing about that, but those were calculated, and those kind of deals could make Anvil jump straight to the top of the private military sector overnight.

William and you disagreed.

When William and you disagreed, no voice was raised, no blood was spilt, but Billy usually became distant, cold and just short of snappy when those conversations took place.


He only crossed the line once. 



You were three months into your job as Anvil’s Chief Strategy Officer when Mayhew happened.

The clock on your desk showed midnight as you paced in your office, on the phone with Rex Mayhew, the U.S. Ambassador in Cairo. A cat-and-mouse game between the Egyptian Armed Forces and the nefarious arms dealer group had become common knowledge since a week or so; the U.S. special forces got involved in the conflict when it’d been discovered that the arms were being transported onto American soil. Rex, an old friend from your Yale days, had let you in on the fact that General Richard Ravelin, in charge of the operation, was looking to reinforce his rangs with private military before “neutralising the threat”. This was a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, with a potential governmental recognition in play… and Billy wanted to hear nothing of it.

You were exhausted and barely hanging in there; Billy was categorical and stubborn.

You’ve dropped the phone on your table promising Rex you were going to give him an answer in two hours, tops. Taking a deep breath, you walked out of your office, your bare feet thudding on the parquet floors of the corridor. When you reached Billy’s hideout, you found the man leaning against his desk with a glass of whiskey in his unnerved hand.

“Billy…” you spoke firmly, barely stepping through the doorway. “Rex…”

“Can go fuck himself”.

Oh, okay. No sugarcoating this. Alright.

You saw his lips barely touch the amber liquid as he slammed the glass against the surface of his desk.

“I said no, Y/N,” he wasn’t facing you anymore, leaning on his desk with his hands digging into the wood, his back tense. “Please just go home. Have a good night sleep. We will talk about this tomorrow.”

You could have sworn you felt your head starting to fume. This was the third time Billy Russo was shutting you down. For the third time he was making you feel like an incompetent fool when you were trying to do your goddamn job.

Why in hell would he hire you if whatever vision you had for Anvil didn’t match with his own?!

“You could at least say this to my face, Billy,” you spoke a bit harshly before you could stop yourself. “You know, to my tired and disappointed face, with a mouth that you have been shutting up every time it offers you a deal of the century”.

This sounded so much better in your head.  

“Why did you hire me?” you asked almost immediately, trying to soften the impact of the words that had already escaped. “If this isn’t the direction in which you want to take your company, maybe I should just…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Y/N, just fucking leave already!” Billy snapped like a branch that’s been holding too much weight, the sound of it dry and final.

…maybe I should just rethink the entire plan.  

There was no point in finishing that sentence now, was there?

“I was there long before you came along, so I’d think I know a shitstorm in the making when I see one!” Billy was looking at you alright, brushing his hair back, his eyes black and void.

You had wished It would have been new to you - looking in William Russo’s eyes and not seeing him there. But it wasn’t. He was back to his Hallmark version of a man, but instead of playing a hero, he was now putting on his villain guise.

“Let’s get something straight here,” he leaned back on his desk, crossing his arms on his chest, his black eyes narrowed. “While you were making your way to the top of a rich-ass cookie-cutter FinTech company, I was crawling in the dirt in Iraq under a downpour of the Trident D5LE missiles. While the closest thing you’ve come to havin’ your hands dirty was bribing an investor or two, I was fucking beheadin’ people under the direction of the CIA,” his words were cold, measured and rhythmic, like a round of bullets being fired on a range. “You know nothing of what’s it like to be in the middle of that kind of shit show, princess, so when I fucking say no, you listen. Is that clear?”

Bark. Sit. Roll over.

“Crystal. Sir.”, you finally broke the heavy silence hanging in the air, just barely resisting the urge to salute him. “I’ll see myself out.”

Biting the inside of your cheek like your life depended on it, once you turned your back on him, your first thought was don’t you dare cry on his account, bitch and then almost right away wait at least until you’re home.

You could have sworn you heard William call your name in a stranded voice, but you made sure to slam the door somewhat hard as you left his office so you could pretend you didn’t hear him.

If you were to face him now, with all that power and toughness he exuded… You would never admit it, even to yourself, but you’d just end up on the floor, huddled into a shivering little ball.

—

You were grateful that the next day after the shit went down with Mayhew fell on a Friday. When you stumbled into your apartment in Queens at almost one in the morning, you immediately shot an email to the HR department asking for a day off. Once that’d been done, you dialled Rex to decline his offer to introduce Anvil to general Ravelin, washed the makeup off your face and crawled into bed, hugging the second pillow close to your chest.

You didn’t cry, if that’s what you’re wondering.

As you rolled out of bed in the morning at around 8 am, you took a shower and grabbed a coffee from the kitchen before settling behind your home office desk with a heavy head. When you opened up the Keynote presentation with your strategy outlined for the H1, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at the iPhone you left on your couch last night.

You weren’t going to check if you had any missing calls.

There was nothing you had left to say to each other.

…with your chest hollow, you powered up the screen. There were no missed calls and no new messages.

It all looked like you had another strategy to build now. If Billy Russo thought that calling you a rich-ass princess that knew nothing of the world, all butterflies and rainbows, was going to make you resign, then man, was he in for a surprise.

You once heard one of his men compare you to a military convoy, when the guy thought you weren’t listening.

He had no idea.

You spent the morning refilling you coffee cup and rebuilding your H1 plan from scratch. After about eleven calls with the people you knew could get you a foot in the door of the offices of some government officials, billionaires and generals, after typing, deleting and typing again for 5 hours straight, by 2pm you had a solid game plan. You were pretty sure it would still need some tweaking from Castle, who essentially held the role of the Chief Operating Officer, dispatching men and women on missions and planning operations, and, well, from Billy Russo.

The Badass-ex-Sniper-turned-CEO himself.    

You kept the email short and to-the-point, sending the document over to Russo with Castle on copy, saying you’d be in the office to debrief on Monday. 

Refusing to check whether your email’d been opened, you slammed your MacBook shut.

The rest of the day rolled on uneventfully. You grabbed a coffee with the People Culture Officer from your previous company, who also happened to be one of your dearest friends; then you picked up your dry cleaners and did some shopping, cracking for a pair of new shoes in Saks Fifth Avenue.

Shoes were, indeed, your weakness.

By the time you got home, the tired sun was yawning, stretching its rays in one last effort before rolling into bed. Humming a Dua Lipa song under your breath, you were putting your new Jimmy Choo’s away when you suddenly heard your phone ring.

You didn’t even have to look at it to know who it was. 

You checked the time, however, noticing is was two minutes after the official end of the working day.

“Hi, Y/N”, Billy spoke, clearing his throat. “Are you… Um… Any chance you’re available to meet tonight? I would really appreciate it if you could give me fifteen minutes of your time. Please.”

It sounded like the real Billy Russo was back around. Insecure. Rugged. Imperfect.

“Can you pick me up?” you asked softly, “I’ll text you my address. There’s a pizza place just around the corner, I could use a free slice”, you circled the cold coffee cup you left on the counter with your finger. “Free as in you’re paying, Russo”.

A laugh that came somewhere from within caressed your ear.

“Uh, yes, I’m actually… Yeah, thanks. I’m leaving the office now,” even if he tried to hide it, a shocked surprise still seeped through the cracks in between the vowels.

You chuckled silently at his reaction.

“Just one more thing,” you ventured, placing the cup in the sink and making your way to the balcony - your small piece of heaven with a wooden chair, pillows and lavender. As you stepped outside, you put oyour free hand on the railing, just to feel the coolness of it, the evening air and the gentle flower smell stroking your skin. “What kind of car should I be on the lookout for?”

Billy hesitated, biting his bottom lip, running his nervous fingers through the thick strands of dark hair. The setting sun was hitting him just from the right angle, making his sculpted cheeks look like they were made of marble.

“A Rolls Royce Wraith”, he squirmed, rubbing his forehead, probably realising how lame and pretentious it sounded. “I’ll call you once I’m downstairs”.

“Uh-huh”, you smirked, leaning on the railing with your forearms.

You saw Russo pinch the bridge of his nose, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip again. 

Your small balcony provided quite a view, when you really thought about it.

“Don’t take too long”, you couldn’t help it, it really was stronger than you. “I’m starving”.

With a wide grin, you dropped the call and went back into your apartment.

You were planning to make him wait for ten extra minutes when he would finally “arrive”.

Just for the hell of it.

—

“That’s a lot of hot sauce for one pizza”, Billy commented, watching you spray your truffles and cheese generously with the piquant olive oil.

You gave him a mischievous smile.

“What can I say,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair and licking the tip of your finger after you swept a drop of it from the top of the bottle. “I like them hot”.

That startled a laugh out of Billy as he eyed you with something in his irises looking a lot like awe.

Just when he was about to speak, a servant brought a glass of red wine for him and bottle of sparkling water for you.

You thanked the guy with a sweet smile, while Billy eyed him a bit coldly, obviously waiting for him to leave.

When the waiter had finally made himself scarce, Billy softly called your name.

You raised your eyes to meet him, struggling as hell to keep your stare vacant. (Which was hard to do with some foreign tightness in your throat).

“Before we dig in and I hope spend a nice evening as two friends, getting together on a Friday night”, he didn’t even blink? Was he blinking? You couldn’t tell, his black eyes swallowing you whole, again. “I want to apologise. I was completely out of line… It was unacceptable. You don’t need my validation, of course, but I still want you to know that you are doing a terrific job at Anvil, taking us to the heights I never even thought existed. It’s just… It’s hard for me sometimes to be a good CEO and someone who promised to take care of my men at the same time… Everything is happening so fast, I’m afraid to lose my footing.”

You reached out for his hand across the table before you could stop yourself. You didn’t take it, but your fingers brushed his ever so slightly before you realized what you were just about to do. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, searching for a reaction. 

Billy remained perfectly still, not taking his eyes off you.

You grabbed a napkin next to his wrist, pretending this was what you had meant to do all along. 

“We’ll get there, Billy”, you said, a small encouraging smile blooming on your lips. “We just need some tweaking”.

You weren’t sure if you were talking about strategy at this point anymore.

—

You had a great time at dinner.

(And a whole-hearted laugh as Billy finished your remainders of the truffle pizza, downing a litre of water to numb down the burning sensation in his throat afterwards).  

You talked about your respective lives, your ex-colleagues, your hopes for the future… You dared think this who the real Billy Russo was.

And he was incredible.

After the two of you were done with dinner, you offered him to come upstairs to your place and go through the new strategy together. He didn’t hesitate, although you could swear you’d seen something ambiguous flash in the depths of his dark eyes before he nodded.

(You must have imagined it.)

The two of you ended up sprawled out on your soft faux fur carpet talking game plan, bouncing ideas off each other. You watched Billy frown, as he rubbed his mouth with his long fingers, smile in excitement and shake his head in awe when you voiced your ideas - you felt proud and appreciated, and you wouldn’t trade the sensation for anything in the world.

A couple of hours later the two of you had finally decided that it was enough brainstorming for one night, and you rose to your feet to go and make Billy a coffee before he got behind the wheel. As you pushed the start button on your coffee machine, you heard him speak over the noise.

“You know I’ve done four tours - three in Iraq and one in Afghanistan”, you popped your head up, only to see him play absentmindedly with something on his chest. “And every time I’m considering a mission for Anvil, I find myself back in there again… A part of a death squad.”

You carefully picked up his cup of coffee and made your way back to him. You didn’t say a word as you leaned lower to hand it over to him, encouraging him to go on. 

Billy thanked you in a whisper before clearing his throat.

“Every time I have to send them somewhere, especially overseas, I force myself to stop and think… Is this really worth it? Is a fat check really worth putting the lives of my men and women in danger? And most importantly - you may think it’s stupid…” he avoided your gaze, staring into his coffee cup, a miserable smile on his lips. “I think, will it make a difference? If one of them dies on a mission, I have to at least know they made a difference… it’s selfish and it’s more about the peace of my own mind, but it is what it is, you know?”

When he looked up at you, his eyes were full, full to the brim. There was so much emotion in them, hatred, misery, hope, adoration, all whipped in a wild mix that was Billy Russo’s dark, velvet eyes.

“I carry these at all times,” the fingers of his free hand dropped to his chest, as he got a hold of something hanging around his neck. A necklace? “When in doubt, I just look at them - they help me remember where I’ve been and what I’ve done - and I just know if it’s worth it or not. The answer is usually no, by the way”.

He smiled again, the curve of his lips looking less haunted this time, as he sipped on his coffee.

Dog tags. Those were Russo’s dog tags.

“So they’re your reminder that, even being a badass CEO of a private military company”, you couldn’t help but feel some kind of zero gravity settling in your lower stomach as you saw him chuckle at your words. “…you still have a heart”.  

“How poetic”, Billy teased you without missing a beat, putting the empty cup on the floor next to him. “But yeah. Sort of, I guess”.

As you fell asleep that night, you dreamed about explosions, piquant olive oil and holding Billy Russo’s dog tags in your hand.

—

The time flew by after that. In 8-month time (after some tweaking) Billy Russo and you became a team. It sometimes felt like nothing could stop you, as long as you were together.

It should not have come as a surprise that the two of you earned yourselves a catchy nickname - at first, it was spoken solely behind your backs, but soon enough it became some kind of a title, more powerful than that of the CEO or the CSO.

Anvil’s men and women (and especially Frank - the fact that he invented the nickname secretly tickled him pink) - were now calling you Bonnie and Clyde. The ultimate partners in crime, against all odds, doing the impossible.

The two of you also settled in an almost homely kind of routine. Ever since that Mayhew fiasco and the day that followed, Friday had become the non-spoken partners in crime day. What it meant in practice was exchanging Friday jokes on Anvil’s internal communications suite…

(Billy once attacked you with a “would you look at this, just found the actual footage of your interview @ Anvil”. Before you even got a chance to answer, he forwarded you a cheesy meme with two old women speaking to each other, one of them saying “We need someone who can do the job of two men”, and the other responding “oh, so it’s only a part-time job then”. When you shot him back a message asking whether he really considered himself an arthritic old woman, that seemed to have shut him up).

…grabbing a beer in a bar nearby…

(you sometimes invited your colleagues to join you, plus it was an unspoken rule that Frank and Karen were to be there as well)  

…you making fun of Billy Russo’s eating habits…

(It was honestly a nuisance to have a lunch with him. The list of things he refused to eat went on and on: no asian food, no food chain restaurants (even high-rated), no soups, no cheesecakes… He sure was settling well in that peaceful life he earned after spending all those tours living off canned food).

…and just overall enjoying each other’s company.

By the time the ninth month of your being Anvil’s CSO had rolled in, you couldn’t imagine not seeing Billy Russo every day. Not noticing him rolling his eyes at a smart-ass comment you or Frank made, or his orbs lighting up every time you told him the deal with that or this decision maker had gone through. You simply could not understand how you managed to live day in and day out, and think you were genuinely happy, before you actually met Billy. Everything before him just faded away somehow, your memories lost their colour and spike in comparison to the life you were living now. You kicked ass at your job, your career thrived, but most importantly, you were feeling like this was exactly where you were meant to be, braving the obstacles by Billy Russo’s side, knowing he would catch you should you fall.

He would, wouldn’t he?

It was your usual Friday night outing, the seven of you - Billy, Frank, Karen, Curtis, James from legal, Ashley from mine clearance and yourself - occupying your usual table at Whimsy, the bar that must have made 90% or their revenus off of Anvil’s folk. It was just around the corner from the headquarters, after all.  

The overall mood of the evening was rather nostalgic. It’d been four weeks since you’d lost a team member in a crossfire in Falluja, Iraq. After everything was said and done, his loss still hung heavy in the air, and it felt right to get one more drink in Jasper’s honour. The conversation flowed easily, even though the topics you’d spoken about were anything but.

“I remember how I felt when I lost Andy”, Ashley nursed her beer as she stared into the distance. “I just literally had the weight of the entire world on my shoulders, pinning me to the ground, I just couldn’t move on”, she finished her bottle in one go and motioned for the bartender to bring her another one. “Sometimes, I just ask myself, what would have I done if I’d known he was going to die the next day? Would I have stopped him from going? I think I would,” she thanked the bartender as he put the beer in front of her, her eyes a bit foggy. “Yeah, I definitely would have.”

Frank grasped Ashley’s shoulder and squeezed it hard in a comforting gesture; Karen gave her a tender look.

You didn’t know why your mind had gone there, but all of the sudden a memory of Billy sitting in his office chair, laughing his ass off at some offhand comment you’d made flashed before your eyes; it quickly got replaced by the recollection of his hand brushing against yours during the Zoom meeting you’ve had with general Warren Singer; then you remembered him putting his hand on the small of your back, staring daggers at some army brat wanting to join Anvil, eyeing you like a piece of meat (you learned later that day that the man’d been thrown out before having a chance to introduce himself); until finally, your brain stopped dead at the picture of Billy running his nervous fingers through his hair as he called you from his car, telling you he was only leaving the office.

What would you do if you knew he was going to die tomorrow?  

Your heart sunk at the thought as you gulped hard, ducking your head and staring at your hands folded in your lap.

A soft touch enveloping your elbow had you facing the man of the hour, his black eyes shimmering with concern.

“Are you okay?” he half-whispered, half-mouthed, not letting go of your hand.

No.

Nothing is okay, Billy.

I’m so happy that I met you, but you’re scaring the hell out of me.

I never wanted any form of eternity until now, I never saw the point…

So stay. Please, stay forever, and feel something for me, too.

“Yes. I’m fine,” you whispered back, staring into his eyes, hypnotised and helpless. You watched him turn away from you as if in slow motion, the warmth of his hand leaving nothing behind but emptiness in your bones.

“Here is to always telling the things that matter to the people who matter”, Billy spoke firmly, raising his beer. “Here’s to never missing a chance to open up to the people we love”.

Well, if this was his way of crossing the t's and putting the dots to the i’s regarding his feelings for you, he couldn’t have been clearer. 


As far as confessions of love went, this one was non-existent.

—

You tried, time and again, to convince yourself you had to go. You learned the hard way that your unrequited feelings were feeding on a sort of inadvertent parasitic relationship where every moment of your day depended on the level of Billy’s unintentional emotional indifference. Your days were spent questioning his every move - every look and every touch; until, the grown-ass woman that you were, you’d commanded yourself to stop second-guessing everything - stop feeling - and decided your best course of action would be… to work yourself into the ground.

If Billy ever noticed anything, he didn’t show it - your were still you, after all, working hard, laughing when he said something funny, calling him out on his bullshit when needed. He didn’t notice slight change in your eyes, when their icy surface cracked at every other compliment he threw in your direction (and there was no shortage of those). He didn’t realize the smile you gave him was different from those tightlipped signs of appreciation you gave to Anvil’s potential clients, he didn’t think twice about the reason for which you glowed around him, your every move softening, your every gesture emanating warmth.

Because Billy hadn’t really known you until you started to have feelings for him.

You knew this couldn’t go on forever. This entire situation was bound to result in some explosion of nuclear proportions, and then all hell would break loose. You needed to get yourself out of this situations, but you just… couldn’t. You couldn’t imagine your life without Billy Russo. You couldn’t leave him.

Even if being friends with him meant tearing yourself apart and suffering in silence. 



Long story short, you waited with fear in your bones for someone to walk into your life and to get you out. You’ve had no fight left in you to do it yourself.

Your salvation came in the form of a phone call on a Friday evening, when Billy was on a recruiting mission in California.

You were typing back a response to his cheeky message when the call cut in half-sentence.

Billy Russo: Please remind me to take you with me instead of Frank next time? He’s driving me insane trying to set me up with the ladies from the Organising Committee. Any ideas on how I can calm him the fuck down?

You: Sorry, Billy, but recruiting is out of my mission scope. As for the calm down part, try bondage maybe? :)

Billy Russo: I’m going to pretend you did not just suggest I engage in sexual practices with Frankie. Karen will have my balls.  

Billy Russo: But perhaps you’re right. Taking you with me is probably not a good idea. Wouldn’t want my new recruits’ brains to turn into mush because of how beautiful you are.

You: The flattery will….

“Hello? Y/N speaking”, you brought your phone close to your ear, your cheeks still a lovely shade of pink. If you were going to feel miserable when Billy came back, acting like nothing happened, you were sure going to make the best of that fuzzy feeling in your chest right now.

“Miss Y/N/L”, a smooth deep voice greeted you, and you could have sworn you’d heard it many times before. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Frowning in an attempt to remember, you urged:

“No, not at all. How can I help you?” you stared into the screen of your Mac, wheels turning in your head as you silently catalogued all the men you were in discussions with regarding a deal. “I didn’t catch your name…”

“Oh, how rude of me”, the man chuckled but there was no mockery in his voice, more like self-depreciation. “Tony Stark, from Stark Industries”.

Your mind went blank. Did you hear his last words correctly?

“Uh… Mr. Stark”, you quickly got a hold of yourself - well, as quickly as you could. “I appreciate you reaching out to me directly. What can Anvil do for you?”

You did a pretty bang-up job trying to mask your amazement with polite cheerfulness, and Stark had caught on that.

Tony Stark just called your cellphone number. What in the world?…

“We don’t really do alien invasions”.

Ohyourgod, did you just say it out loud?!

His uproarious laughter took you by surprise, reverberating through your entire body. It took every ounce of your self-control not to giggle in response.

“That’s a good one, I love it”, Stark finally said, restoring his breath. “And the better question would be, Y/N - can I call you Y/N? - what you can do for me”.

Before your brain could take you into some naughty direction, freaking Iron Man cleared his throat.

“Okay, this came out wrong,” he admitted with a sense of self-irony. “I um… I’m looking for the Co-Chief Executive Officer for Stark Industries. Well, Virginia Potts is actually looking for a Co-CEO, I’m just her errand boy. And my missions apparently include recruiting…. Anyway,” it was a bit of a challenge to follow Anthony Stark’s train of thought, but you were also still shocked, so that could explain it. “…I think you are the perfect fit for the job”.

You just stared into the screen front of you, your breathing barely audible.

“Mrs Potts and I would love it if you could swing by the A-Tower, let’s say, on Thursday? You’ll be surprised, but I can also whip up a mean cup of coffee…”

Say something.

Fucking hell.

Say something!…

“Thursday sounds great,” you blurted out without thinking. “Let me just shuffle my schedule around… I could stop by after lunch?”

 Your hands were slightly shaking as you clicked on your mouse, opening your schedule window.

“Whatever works for you, Y/N”, you could hear Stark smile. “Not to sound like a creep, but I’ve been following your career for quite a while now, and I think that the work you've done in such a short span of time for Anvil is outstanding, even though you still don’t offer protection from alien invasions”.

That made you chuckle, pushing you halfway out of your stupor.

“I’ll put that on the list of things for us to consider”, you promised.

"Tell Mr. Russo I sent my best,” Stark added, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. “I actually might have some ideas for how we could collaborate. Let's discuss this on Thursday, too, shall we?”

After you said your goodbyes, you fell back in your chair, dropping your iPhone on the table.

You: The flattery will….

...get you nowhere.

You never finished that message, leaving Russo on Read.

—

Starting with that evening, things were moving fast - too fast for you to keep track.

After a three-hour long coffee and the tour of the A-Tower, Virginia Potts, the acting CEO of the Stark Industries, had offered you the job - just like that - and asked you to come back to her executive assistant should you wish to take the job, with your salary expectations and the information about your notice period. You thanked her for her time and promised to get back to her as soon as you made your decision.

Virginia Potts was a brilliant woman; but running a company like Stark Industries while being equipped with a vagina was certainly no walk in the park. Sexism was still very much present within the Boards of the Tech Businesses. You understood perfectly well why she wanted a woman in her corner - it would have been a massive slap in the Board’s face, but it was also about having someone to lean on, who just understood.

In any other circumstances you would have peed your pants in excitement. It was an opportunity to work for Stark Industries - no, scratch that - it was an opportunity to step in as a Stark Industries co-CEO. The idea of it still made you dizzy.

…but as you looked at Virginia’s email sent to your personal address thanking you for stopping by, your eyes were swimming with tears.

You weren’t ready to leave Billy. 
You just couldn’t. 
You couldn’t leave him. 

There was no epic finale to your story. There was no big revelation, no closure, no moment of relief, no acceptance, nothing. Only a fat-ass what if.

And you didn’t know how to let go of a what if with Billy Russo.

And that was exactly why you had to do it.

You heard Billy come in the next Monday earlier than usual. He was positively humming Usher’s Yeah! quietly as he made his way past your office’s doors straight into his own.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You’ve been psyching yourself up during the entire weekend, telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal, we wouldn’t even flinch when you were going to tell him.

You had to tell him.

As you stood up from your chair, straightening you skirt with the palms of your hands, you suddenly heard the footsteps coming back in your direction. You froze in place like a deer in headlights when Billy swung open the door to your office, a box of Pierre Hermé macarons in his hands.

Your goddamn favorite Pierre Hermé macarons.

“You’re here!” Billy’s warm smile illuminated the room. “So much for a surprise, huh?”

He shook the box carefully in the air. You stared at it, dumbfounded, every single thought leaving you.

You couldn’t breathe.

In the hazy morning light seeping through the windows of your office, Billy looked beautiful and dissolute, shirt open at the collar, longer strands of dark hair falling into his eyes.

He was going to be the death of you. It really wasn’t fair.

“Billy, I have to tell you something.”

Was it you who spoke those words? They seemed distant and cold, so uncharacteristically detached.

Blood roared in your ears.

“What’s wrong?”

Billy’s reaction was instant. In three decisive steps he closed the distance that separated you, leaving the macarons on your desk. He stood still just mere inches away, and just like during your very first meeting, you had a fleeting thought cross your mind: you really were tiny next to him, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders.

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, trying to keep your composure. He stared at you unblinking. He wasn’t touching you, but it felt like his eyes were looking straight into your soul, undressing you, blowing that wall you built around yourself into dust. They were taking you down, piece by piece, determined to see what you’d been keeping from him. 

Because, of course, he knew. He should have known something was going on. Hence the surprise this morning.

He had no idea what it was though.

“Maybe you should sit,” you said, making a physical effort to tear your eyes away from him, feigning sudden interest in the buttons of his shirt.



That chest…



…was going to be just fine. He didn’t feel the same way you did. He would just find someone else to fill your position. With brilliant women stalking him - in cooperative packs - that would not be a problem.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you”.

You squeezed your eyes shut as soon as his words reached your ears.

Fucking hell, you should have done that by phone. Or with other people around. You should have…

“You’re leaving”, you heard Billy repeat as his voice broke a little. He stepped away, burying his face in his hands as he dragged them down his jaw and neck, staring into the ceiling.

“Billy, listen, I…”

You were the one to close the space between the two of you this time, and before you could think too much into it… You threw your hands around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

The sensation struck you like a bolt of lightening when you felt his hands cross behind you back and pull you closer.

He smelled heavenly. Like a forest fire, a hint of smoke with oud and pine. You inhaled deep, deeper still, losing yourself in his comforting touch.

In his arms, just for a second there, you felt home.

“You… The company doesn’t need me anymore”, you nearly choked on words, screaming internally at yourself to keep the waterworks at bay. “It’s thriving, there’s not much else I can give you. My job here is done.”

I need to leave because your indifference is destroying me, and when I think I’m ready to let go, all it takes is one look from you, and I’m back to wanting you, to settling for anything you give me, like a goddamn fool.

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?!” Billy exclaimed, his hands grasping your shoulders as he distanced your bodies just enough for him to look into your eyes. “I nee- The company needs you! I was… You know, I was planning to make you the CEO of Anvil in a couple months time,” his smile, as earnest as it was, did not reach his eyes. “Yeah”, noticing your eyes go wide in shock,  he let his hands slide down your sides. “You’re so much better at it than I ever was. I was going to join Frank and just manage operations… under you”.

You just stared at him, dumbfounded, not feeling a stray tear escape your eye and rolling down your cheekbone.

“These are the tears of happiness, I hope”, Billy added, and you barely registered his touch as his thumb wiped the salty drop off. “Well, I guess Anvil will have to settle for the little old me. With my best girl going places."

You gave him a strained smile before you carefully wiped your cheeks, just taking a moment to look at him. To try and read him.

Billy Russo was a goddamn ceiling. Plain white, cool and unattainable. In all of your time working for him, you have never seen this Hallmark version of him before. Which one was it? 


Oh wait, you guessed you knew. The happy-for-you friend.

“So where are you going?” Billy asked, his eyes empty. “Who snatched you away from m- Anvil?”

The stutter was so subtle you barely noticed. You were finally tired of reading into shit.

“Stark Industries. I’ll be their co-CEO”.

—

Before you left Anvil you promised yourself you’d get the deal with Stark Industries up and running. There was no one in the world you trusted more in terms of security than Billy.

(The fact that you couldn’t keep your heart safe from him didn’t really count, did it?)

As a matter of fact, Billy and you were going to shake hands with Anthony Stark on the deal on your last night of being Anvil’s CSO. It was happening in The Metropolitan Opera and required both Billy and yourself to dress for the occasion. 

He promised to come pick you up at 6pm sharp; you were putting on the Jimmy Choo’s you’d bought a coulee months ago in Saks Fifth Avenue when you heard a low knock on your door.

Straightening up, you threw a quick glance at your reflection in the mirror. You decided to go with a long Marchesa black velvet gown with a rather deep V-line, a pair of long diamond earrings and an elegant half-up half-down hairdo, soft curls in the front framing your face.

“I’m coming”, you yelled out, picking up your leather jacket (because why the hell not) and your purse from the kitchen counter. Sharply opening the entrance door, you realized moments later that you didn’t even take time to prepare yourself for seeing William Russo in a tux.

If you weren’t already half in love with him, the sight before your eyes would have sealed the deal.

God-fucking-damn, like he needed any help being unforgettable.

With a black jacket thrown on a crisp white shirt with a couple of buttons undone and the tie hanging loosely around his neck, Billy was here to make a statement, to leave a mark. His hair was coiffed back in his usual style; honest to God, he looked like he just stepped out of the Man of the Year special GQ edition…

Just when your thoughts were about to switch to the way you must have looked next to him, ridiculous in your simplicity, like you refused to make an effort…

…Your eyes met his.

And the way he looked at you was so intense, his big black eyes with galaxies in them probing into yours, his strong jaw slack. There was beauty and tragedy reflecting in those orbs, but only just for a second - just for a second, he looked at you the way he probably looked at the sky he could never reach. Just for a second, he looked at you the way that made your heart beat twice as fast, like the world could crumble all around him and he still would not have blinked.

Would not have taken his eyes off you.

“Wow, Y/N, you look… You look beautiful”, he finally said. “I just can't spot a part of you that beats the other.”

Something in your chest exploded silently.

“Thank you, Billy,” you smiled at him - a genuine and happy smile, because you felt on top of the world with his adoring eyes on you. “You’re quite a catch yourself”.

Before you could scold yourself for your choice of words, you stepped out of your apartment and locked the door behind you.

“Shall we?” Billy offered his hand to you, without hesitation it seemed.

“We shall”, you replied instantly, slowly sliding your hand into the crook of his elbow.

And, just like always, you were going to enjoy it while it lasted.

—

The crowd in the opera was so posh, the looks all the women had been throwing you first made you question your choice of outfit. It’s after overhearing their conversations that you realized, the reason they stared daggers at you was the man that kept by your side no matter where you went.

Virginia and Anthony welcomed you at the buffet with sun-stained sincere smiles. After a short small talk, Anthony Stark informed you both that he had signed the contract earlier today, thus officially giving Anvil an exclusive security deal with Stark Industries. As of now, Anvil was the only company allowed on the Stark Industries’ premises in the quality of guards and protection officers.

The look Billy and you exchanged spoke volumes; while your eyes were sparkling with excitement though, screaming “we did it!!”, his bottomless black eyes were whispering “thanks to you”.

The four of you then shook hands and went through rounds of gratitude and appreciation; when a pleasant woman’s voice announced the imminent start of Onegin, inviting the guests to go to their seats. Virginia immediately took you hand, leading you straight into the Opera house, saying something about leaving men to finish their drinks. You threw Billy a laughing look over your shoulder, mouthing “come join me” before disappearing out of his sight.

“So on the scale of one to ten, how pissed at me are you, Mr. Russo?”

Billy turned his head sharply to a side, leaning on the high table, and spotted Anthony Stark himself, nursing a glass of whiskey. “For taking your queen away from you? Excuse the chess metaphor, but that woman”, Stark took a sip of his whiskey and savoured it before swallowing it down. “Is a goddamn queen.”

Billy chuckled, straightening up, digging his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“That, she is,” he whispered, his eyes still piercing the spot in the crowd where your smiling face was mere minutes ago.

—

When the opera ended, both Billy and you couldn’t be more relieved - because both of you hated it with passion.

Exchanging meaningful glances in the dark during the singers’ performances now and then, you had to bite your tongue in order to not just ask Billy if you could maybe sneak out. Russo proved to be more stoic than you, carefully covering your hand with his in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You didn’t look at him once after that, afraid to say or do something that would make him remove his hand.

How much more pathetic could you get?  

When the performance was over, Billy led you out of the opera house without saying a word, his hand hugging carefully the small of your back.

His silence was unnerving. You didn’t know what to make of it. Should you have shaken his hand off back in the darkness of the concert hall? Or should you have caressed it with your thumb?

Your mind was spinning in circles by the time he opened the door for you and you slid into the front passenger seat of his Rolls goddamn Royce.

When he got in the car and gripped his steering wheel, you reached out and placed your hand on his whitening knuckles.

“Billy,” you spoke softly, barely audibly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” he whispered back, turning his head to a side to face you. His black eyes stared into yours, looking hypnotised and helpless. “Everything is fine.”

It didn’t take a degree in Psychology to see that he was lying. You could feel his gaze on you as you turned away from him, taking your hand away at the same time.

Billy started the car. The revving engine filled the silence, loaded with the unsaid words.

—

“…he then walked me to my door, we exchanged our goodbyes. And that was it,” you finished lightly, looking back at Karen.

Her eyes were red as she stared at you, unblinking.

“Unbelievable…” she whispered. “So you never told him?…” her lips barely moved.

You sighed.

“Have you ever felt like you’re potentially in love with someone? Like, you don’t actually love him, you know you don’t, but one day you realise that you could? You realise just how easy it would be for you to fall in love with him? With all the teasing and the banter, the play hitting each other, calling each other names, just…. You start to pick up on little things - like if you listen closely, in every shut up, there’s a barely-there ring of I could love you.”

You shifted on the floor a little, and Karen watched your memories transport you somewhere else again. While physically your were here, in your apartment - with your fluttering eye-lashes, uneven breathing and loaded expression - mentally, you were somewhere else.

“….You probably don’t notice it at first, but your body is drawn to him. Every accidental or absentminded touch…” you continued quietly. “And there’s that twinkle in his eyes when he looks at you and it messes you up, because - what’s going on with you? What the hell does it even mean? Are you imagining shit? You’re trying to make sense.”



Karen didn’t interrupt, still staring at you as if she were seeing you for the first time

“I mean, he didn’t ask for any of it, you know?” you finally raised your foggy stare at Karen, as if searching for confirmation. “Maybe he just did something dumb one day, smiled at you or said something that seemed important and then all of the sudden you’re full on Looney Tunes, seeing stuff that isn’t there?”

Your words barely audible, you swallowed hard, before continuing.

“…I just kept looking at him with what ifs, and could haves, seeing all that goddamn potential. It’s so fucking twisted. Over-analyzing everything? Waiting for a sign?…” you chuckled bitterly all of the sudden. “…I was so fucking scared of reading too much into it, of crossing that line, because… It would be so easy!… Falling in love with him would have been so easy.”

Oh sweetheart, Karen’s eyes glowed with comfort as she reached out for your hand and squeezed it softly. But you already are in love with him. 



A loaded silence ripped through the air in your living room. The sound of an engine revving somewhere close squeezed its way through the slit of an opened window, and it seemed to break the trance.

Both Karen and you shuddered, and as you took in the realisation Karen’s eyes just bestowed upon you, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“It’s pretty late,” Karen spoke up, reading you like an open book. She knew it was her cue to leave the stage. You needed time to process. “Frank is in a bar nearby with Curtis, let me just give him a call, okay, sweetheart?” she gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze. “You know where to find me when you need me”.

“Yes”, you responded, blinking tiredly. “Thank you so much for coming, Karen. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that…”

“Shut the hell up,” the blonde advised, raising her eyebrows. “But honestly, Y/N, please call me once you… come to terms with things, okay?”

You nodded.

When Karen left, leaving the sweet and pleasant smell of her perfume behind, you closed the door behind her and turned around, leaning on the cold wood and metal with your eyes closed.  

It’s been a month. This was supposed to pass by now. Billy was supposed to stop inviting himself into your dreams. You were supposed to heal.

You may have just realized you were in love with the man instead.

Letting out half a moan, half a groan, you peeled yourself from the door slowly, and brushed your hair back, wanting nothing more than to fall face-first into bed.

After you at least cleaned up a bit and put out the Dyptique candles, that is.

As your eyes scanned your living room in an attempt to asses the size of the job at hand, you stopped mid-way, zeroing in on the box Jax gave you earlier in the evening. It rested silently on the kitchen table.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you made your way to the kitchen area. Grabbing the package, you turned it around, looking for any indication of the sender.

The package wasn’t even stamped.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you took a moment to grab a knife from one of the drawers, and carefully swished it between the two cardboard sheets.

Flipping over the envelop, you heard something fall out of it before you could actually see it. A small sheet of paper floated in the air before falling on the surface, partially covering whatever fell out of the package.

Your heart squeezed the second your brain identified the object, attached to a worn silver chain.

With trembling fingers, you slid two metal pieces from under the paper, covering your mouth.

Finding their home in the palm of your hand, Billy’s dog tags shimmered in the dim candlelight.

Squeezing them in between your fingers, you grabbed the paper with your free hand, your eyes staring at one single sentence scribbled on its surface.

“You took my heart with you”.

[goldencherryhazz]

And the Grammy Goes to....

I AM SOO PROUD OF HIM, I HONESTLY HAVE NO WORDS 🥲🥲🥲

(not proofread, notes would be much appreciated,pls don’t copy my work, hope you enjoy!!! 🤍)

Grammy!Harry x famous!gf reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, swearing.

WC: 3k

You and Harry were currently backstage at the Grammys, one of the biggest nights in the music industry, you honestly couldn’t believe you were here alongside him, even though you had walked many red carpets before by yourself and with Harry, being a well know singer yourself, having written 2 successful albums, but being alongside your 3 time grammy nominated boyfriend felt surreal. And to top things off you were about to watch open the show.

‘You okay baby’ he asked through the slightly ajar bathroom door where he was currently getting changed into his second outfit of the night after walking the red carpet, he wanted to surprise you with this one. ‘Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that, you’re the one who’s performing, virtually, in front of thousands and thousands of people’ you said from your perch on the couch. You were wearing a very pretty and expensive dress which you planned on not getting dirty or creased.

‘A little I guess, but I think I’ll be fine once I get out there I think’ he replies a bit breathless shuffling around probably trying to get whatever he was wearing on.

‘I’m dressed now, need you to close your eyes love’

‘Okay, they’re closed’ you replied, thinking about how little time it took him to get changed, getting more excited every second, and she had every right to be. When he comes through and stands right in front of you and tells you to open your eyes you’re met with Harry clad in a black leather suit jacket which no shirt underneath, with matching trousers. His toned abs graced with his butterfly and chest on full display, a green boa wrapped loosely round his neck.

Her eyes were wide, her mouth hung open in complete admiration ‘how do I look baby?’ he asks twirling round for her, she stood up placing her hands on his bear chest once he was stationary, then quickly moving her hands to his jaw pulling him in for a teeth clashing kiss, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths, he pulls back surprised by her sudden actions ‘I’m guessing you like it then’

‘You look fucking amazing H’ you could feel your panties getting damp, ‘I think I like it a little to much’ your lips grazing his. He hummed sensing where this was going, but not stopping at all, quickly ooking at the clock on the wall behind him ‘well we’ve get 20 minutes until I’ve got to be on stage, gives us plenty of time’

‘Are you suggesting we fuck in this dressing room right now, what if we get caught?’ You said still starting to grind your hips against his hardening bulge anyway.

‘If I remember correctly, that’s why locks on doors were invented lovie’ he says taking a few small steps towards the door of the dressing room and flicking the lock shut, then coming back to you ‘so what do you say angel, gotta be quick though’ you didn’t say anything, practically pouncing on him, gripping the green boa gently unwrapping it from his neck, before throwing it, not caring where it landed, kissing him again hoping he got the message, which he did loud and clear ‘let’s get this dress off you first’ he says, you quickly agreed as he reached behind you to unzip it, the dress falling off your shoulders to reveal you breasts, having opted to not wear a bra tonight, you stepped out of the garment before draping it over the back of the couch.

Once you had done, Harry gripped your hips, bringing you closer to him, bringing his head down to your chest wrapping his lips around your gardening nipple, you moaned out at the feeling, he does the same to the other before kissing and sucking hickeys onto you collarbones and neck, which you knew you would have to cover up later.

‘Jump’ he said between breathless kisses, which you instantly complied, wrapping your legs around his waist, gripping onto his shoulders, his hands gripping your ass, he manoeuvred around the dressing room until he got to the counter where various products laid, he swiped them off not caring if they broke, already making a promise to himself to replace them if they did. He placed you down, your ass making contact with the cold surface. He shimmies your panties down your legs, the sight of your pussy making him impossibly harder, he pressed a quick kiss to you clit, before going to undo his trousers, and shimmying them down his legs, his cock springing free as he had decided on no boxers, that there was no time for foreplay you both silently agreed. He then start tugging at the lapels of the leather jacket before you objected ‘can you keep it on’

He smirks ‘you want me to fuck your in this leather jacket baby’

‘Yes, fuck yes’ your eyes oogling the sight of his cock against his belly beading pre-cum ‘well your wish is my command’ he knew he probably shouldn’t, not wanting to get it sweaty or anything, but by the look on your face and the sight of you pussy pulsating around nothing, he knew this wouldn’t take long.

He gives no warning when he slams into you, making you scream out in pleasure, before he quickly kissed you to muffle your moans, not wanting to get caught, he sets a quick and hard pace, practically fucking you into the counter, his hands gripping you hips so hard it would probably leave bruises, you dig your heels into his ass wanting him as close as possible, feeling the smooth leather against you skin sending shivers up your spine.

‘Fuck you feel so good’ he groans burying his face into your neck, your hands tangling into his curls, quickly grabbing the opportunity to suck a hickey onto his neck, which you knew he would be annoyed at because he was going to be out on stage in 15 minutes, but you loved marking him up so everyone could see.

‘H I’m not going to l-last much longer’ throwing your head back, your arms behind you going weak from holding yourself, your fingers trying to dig into the counter, his thrusts hitting your special spot every time.

‘Me neither baby’ he felt like he was in cloud 9, the only sound in the room was moans snd skin hitting skin, feeling himself on the brink already, as your cunt was clenched around his length. He brings his hand down to your clit, his ringed fingers slightly shaky as he starts to rub deep circles on your clit to get you there.

‘Holy shit, I’m gonna cum’ you moaned ‘yeah, cum with me angel, cum around my cock’

Both moaning in unison you release around each other, his hot cum painting your walls, mixing with your juices, you swear you stopped breathing, your eyes continuously rolling to the back of your head as you ride out your high. Harry’s eyes were wired shut, his grip on your hips not faltering, mouth hung open. As your arms were about to give way Harry places his hand on your back, almost knowing that was going to happen. You look at him, pushing back some of the hair that had fallen into his face. ‘that was so fucking good, legs are shaking’ he slurs out, almost as if he was drunk on his high. ‘Yeah, fuck don’t know if I’ll be able to walk’ he slowly pulls out, his cum flowing out of you, he ducks his head down to clean you up, you legs spasming from the sensitivity.

He leans up to kiss you, tasting yourself and his cum.

‘Did so good for me baby, I’m gonna see if I can take this home’ he says pointing at the jacket.

‘And why’s that H’ you asks

‘Just think it’s going to come in handy one day’ says making you smile because you already knew the answer.

You quickly look at the clock ‘C’mon we gotta get ready, your on in 8 minutes’ getting up from the counter on shaky legs and walking to put your pants and dress back on, he chuckles at his girl desperate to see him out on stage again.

He gets dressed grabbing his boa that was discarded on the floor, pulling his shoes on, walking through to you, seeing you struggle with the zip of your dress, he goes over sliding it up, pressing a kiss to your back ‘have I told you how pretty you look today’ he asks as you touch up your hair and makeup. ‘Only about 10 times’ he gasps in fake shock ‘only 10, I need to keep up don’t I baby’ this makes you laugh. ‘You look pretty today too bub’ you say, but soon enough you cute little moment is interrupted by three knocks on the door and Jeff saying ‘Harry your on in 3 minutes, get your ass out here’ this makes you laugh because Jeff or anyone for that matter are oblivious to what you’ve just been doing.

///

Soon enough Harry is out on stage. Any nerves he had had dissipated. He was high in adrenaline from being buried in your cunt barely 10 minutes ago, shaking his ass and dancing around the stage, he gripped the boa throwing it to the floor, replicating you actions form the dressing room, you knew the world would be going crazy for him right now, singing the lyrics to watermelon sugar, you were in awe. To be honest you had gotten a little horny again from watching him but you knew that could be dealt with later. Most of all you were so proud, he was opening the Grammys for godsakes, how couldn’t you be, your pretty sure he would be able to see you smiling even through your mask.

He sings the last notes, thanking everyone before running off stage to you, ‘I’m so proud of you baby you say wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. ‘thankyou angel’ he says, over the past few days you had showered him in love and affection, and he had to admit that he was loving the attention. Harry quickly gets changed again into the outfit he was wearing on the red carpet, your stylist has asked if you wanted multiple outfits, but you said no because you wanted tonight to be completely focused on Harry and to be fair you loved the dress you were wearing it was so comfortable, so you didn’t really want to change out of it anyway.

After that Harry joined you again in the side of the stage again, where you watched various people perform, most being really good friends, like Billie, Taylor, Dua, Maren Morris, Dababy and so many more. Soon enough you were sat round a table with Harry and Jeff, one of his categories getting closer and closer to being announced, it was weird you had to say, doing the Grammys during a pandemic, without a whole audience bringing a whole lot of energy to the entire thing. You guess you just couldn’t wait for everything to be safe and get back to normal, you wanted to go on tour and sing your heart out.

You could tell Harry was getting a little nervous he had a hand on your thigh and he squeezed it every so often, almost using it as a stress toy. ‘Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine bub’ you whispered in his ear, he smiled at you comforting words, his head now resting on you shoulder and he held you hand under the table, as you both watched the show and clapped and congratulated people on their wins.

Soon enough the nominees for the category ‘best pop solo performance’ were being announced, Harry head instantly snapped up from your shoulder, Jeff grabbing hold of his shoulder, you let out a little squeal when his name popped up in the screen. Getting more and more excited.

The presenter starts to open the envelope, you were literally on the edge of your seat, Harry’s leg bouncing up and down.

‘And the Grammy goes to...Harry Styles’

You slapped your hand over you mouth, ‘you did it baby’ you practically screamed. He was pulled in for a hug by Jeff, taking off his mask in the process. The look on his face held shock and greatfulness. He pulls away from Jeff, pulling you straight into his arms, you swear you’ve never squeezed him tighter ‘I’m so fucking proud of you baby’ you say, tears in your eyes. He didn’t respond he was lost for words, which you understood, he pulled your mask down so he could catch you lips in a quick kiss, before pulling it back over your nose again. ‘Go on, get up there, go get your Grammy’ which he does.

He walks up to the stage, and you don’t know why but you stand up, your hands are over your chest as he thanks Jeff, Mitch and everyone who he made watermelon sugar with. You see him rubbing his eyes trying not to get emotional. He thanked his label and his fans especially, by now your tears are falling down your face you just had so much love for this man, you were over the moon for him.

‘And finally I would like to thank my wonderful girlfriend y/n who you all know very well. You have been there for me through everything, you have been my support, my muse, you’ve believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. I honestly would be the person I am today without you, i love you baby’

You knew everyone was staring at you, but you didn’t care at this moment in time, it felt like it was only you and Harry in the room.

He finally finishes his speech, grabbing his well deserved award, coming off the stage where he was bombarded with congratulations and praise from people left right and centre. He was whisked away to do interviews and conferences with you alongside him, you just looked at him awestruck when he was answering various questions, you being asked some yourself.

He had become very clingy after his win not wanting you out of his sight, touching you in anyway possible, holding your hand, having his arm wrapped round you, he even at one point wrapped his boa around your neck, with it being long enough for the two of you to wear, but didn’t end well for obvious reasons, but it did nearly have you on the floor laughing.

‘I’m so proud of you H’ you said for about the billionth time in the past half hour. ‘Thankyou angel, and I really do mean that when I say it’

‘I know you do H’ you say sweetly

‘And I mean it when I say I wouldn’t be the person I am today without you’

You could cry at that, but instead you wrap him in another tight hug, burying your head into the crook of his neck leaving a kiss there.

///

A little while later it was the afterparty, a very small one fire to the pandemic, but still and afterparty. Harry’s other category that he’d been nominated for had been announced, but he didn’t win, the Grammy going to Dua, which you were very happy about. At this point in time you didn’t care how many Grammys or awards he won, and Harry didn’t either the biggest award for him was having such supportive fans, he felt incredibly lucky to have the job he had and the people he had around him, being able to create music and tour the world. He also felt very lucky to have you by his side, he knows it’s cheesy but it was true.

So there you were catching up with old friends congratulating people on their wins, having a few drinks, you had the best time, you swear the smile never left Harrys lips, it was honestly the best being able to have normal conversations and just have lots of fun with some of your friends and some of your idols.

Soon enough it was home time, which was also very unusual because if there wasn’t a pandemic right now, there was no such thing as an allocated home time after the Grammys. You and Harry bid your goodbyes to Jeff who was going in a different car to go home. You and Harry piled into the backseat of your designated car, Harry telling the driver the address to you two’s house, he was kind of exhausted but felt like he was on top of Mount Everest, he was just so unbelievably happy, he pulled out his phone seeing messages from all kinds of people congratulating him, deciding he’ll respond to them later.

He once again pulls you into him, resting his head on your chest, your fingers card through his hair, before landing on his cheek rubbing up and down it.

‘Hey baby you won a Grammy’ you whisper to him, he looks up at you, your eyes getting lost in his.

‘I know, still doesn’t feel real, he pouts his lips silently asking for a kiss, in which you happily give him, pressing your lips to his before attacking his face, pressing tiny kissing all over it, making him laugh, which then made you laugh.

Ya know, I don’t know what I like hearing more, you moaning ‘I’m gonna cum’ or ‘and the Grammy goes to Harry styles’ he teases

‘Heyyyy’ she said in fake offence

‘I’m only joking’ he snickers ‘it will always be you baby’

‘I love you bub’ you hummed happily

‘I love you too angel’

[hargrove-mayfields]

the tags on your football Billy story about autistic kids not being allowed to play sports, gave me the idea of Steve with autism not being allowed on the basketball team and how Billy and maybe Tommy if you want since you write kegboys sometimes would react

It doesn’t take Billy long to notice him, the benchwarmer boy who sits on the sidelines, never getting his shot in a single game, just riding the bench with a smile on his face.

At first he sort of pegs it to mean the kid is just really not good, maybe riding the tails of his daddy’s sportsmanship legacy, but then Billy realizes something, that this kid doesn’t even get to play at practice.

He shows up and he sits there like being excluded is the happiest he’s ever been, and the only time he ever has the ball in his hands at all is if it’s to toss it to one of the boys on the court when it rolls to him.

Despite this though, he has his very own jersey. Number zero. Harrington.

Billy asks Tommy after practice once who this mysterious jersey kid is, and he smiles sort of tight, like maybe Billy shouldn’t have asked him that, and tells him, “I’ll introduce you.”

Tommy walks over to the kid and tells him something that makes him light up, jump to his feet and follow Tommy back over, “Billy, this is my best friend, Steve Harrington.”

Steve just sort of waves, so Billy jumps straight into it. This kid intrigues him and he wants to know more, “There a reason you don’t play, Harrington?”

In response he shrugs his shoulders, hands stuffed in the pockets of his way too big basketball shorts, “I’m not allowed.”

“Why not? You fail some test or something?” Billy tries to ask lightly, not noticing the way Tommy’s face scrunches up before Steve drops a bombshell on him instead, “They don’t let special ed kids on the basketball team.”

And if that’s not bad enough, Tommy then adds, though significantly more bitter than even Steve is, “Or on any team for that matter, whether it’s sports or clubs or debate, you name it. School board denies every last application.”

“Oh.” Billy frowns, totally dumbfounded, his school in California never had any issues with that, “Oh that- that’s bullshit.”

“I know.” They say at the same time, prompting Billy to ask, “They don’t even have like, a separate team?”

“Not enough kids would do it.” Tommy says, and he gets a sharp look from Steve, who corrects him quickly, “Not enough kids could get permission to do it.”

“But that’s such bullshit.” Billy repeats, not very helpfully.

“Nothing we can do about it. We’ve tried everything. Not even momma Harrington could convince the school board, and let me tell you, that woman is scary.”

Steve elbows Tommy for that one, and Tommy laughs softly, throws an arm around his shoulder, but Billy is thinking, biting the corner of his nail in concentration, “Why don’t we start our own team?”

“I don’t know.” Steve’s face scrunches up, and he turns to Tommy, like he doesn’t trust what Billy says, so Billy continues, “No, I’m serious. School says you can’t play for them, so fuck ‘em. There’s courts in the park, I have a ball, and I’m out there half the time watching my little sister anyways. Let’s start our own team.”

Tommy answers for him, “Practice takes up too much time. We’re not gonna be much of a team unless we’re going to be playing at night or in the winter.”

“Then we quit the tigers.” Billy shrugs, like it’s obvious.

Instantly Tommy narrows his eyes, “Very funny, man.”

On the other hand though, Steve looks at him with awe written all over his face, eyes wide and spelling, “You’d really quit for me?”

And Billy, he plays it off like that look doesn’t make his heart melt, claiming, “For you and for Max who’s been talking my ear off about how much she wants to play soccer and whose heart is going to break when she finds out she can’t.”

Convinced, Tommy looks over at Steve, “If you’re in Stevie, I’m in too.”

Steve seems like he’s considering his options, drumming his fingers on the outside of his thigh, occasionally humming softly in thought, and it’s making Billy impatient.

“So?” He asks, to which Steve nods a confirmation to his offer, his hair bouncing with his enthusiasm.

Tommy cracks a crooked smile, holds out a hand for Billy to shake, seal the deal, “You’ve got yourself a team, Hargrove.”

They decide not to give their little team a name, the idea of being called something feels too exclusive, which was the reason they’d all quit the school's team in the first place. Billy had gotten in big trouble when his dad found out he quit for wasting their time and money on basketball, but that was all bullshit anyways, games were only usually a half hour long and were free to get into for the players family, and the school paid for the uniforms.

But that was what he said and what he’d been going to punish Billy for until they found out about the reasoning behind quitting, after which Susan was flattered he cared so much about his little sister, and he got his permission to freely go down to the park and play with the “special” kid.

Neil of course didn’t care about him doing it for Max, he was just concerned with Billy’s public image. Playing ball with the richest family in town's dopey son did nothing but good things for the way their neighbors saw him, so he’d allow it.

A few weeks into their games though, which are mostly just playing HORSE or teaching Steve how to do trickier shots since no coach ever would, Billy has to bring Max along because nobody was going to be home and she wasn’t allowed to be by herself. It’s a dreary day so there aren’t many people around at all, so he decides he’s going to loosen her leash, and walks her over to the playground (that they can see clearly from the courts, he’s not that irresponsible.)

He teasingly offers to push Max on the swings or lift her up to the monkey bars, making her roll her eyes and proudly declare that she’s not a baby anymore, so he chuckles and leaves her be, walking back to the basketball hoops.

Tommy and Steve are just sitting on the old wooden bench just off to the side of the court, waiting for Billy to get back because he’s their little impromptu coach and they can’t start without him, but he notices that they’re sitting awful close together, and between them, Tommy’s hand sits slightly on top of Steve’s, pinky fingers linked together.

Now he knows these two are affectionate, he couldn’t even count how many times Tommy picked Steve up after he made a good shot or ruffled his hair and smiled at him when he messed up, but that was all just friendly affection.

This was different though, he could tell it was from the way Tommy’s eyes snap up and he pulls his hand away, the both of them looking away from each other guiltily.

He feels a little something like jealousy in his chest, or maybe it was just anxiety at the fact that they’d been so obviously holding hands in the public park, but either way, he just kind of freezes up, looking between their two terrified faces until Tommy’s turns angry, standing from the bench so fast the old rusty things creaks loudly and Steve has to cover his ears.

He grabs the front of the baggy jersey Billy wears from his old school's team, the bears, and gets right up in his face, sneering, “You gonna say something, Hargrove?”

And Billy’s not afraid of Tommy, he might be mean, but he’s on his toes to threaten him, and he’s pretty sure they both know Billy would win the fight anyways. He’s not going to fight him though, and he makes that clear, putting his hands up as a clear sign of not going to sock Tommy for yelling at him, “Secrets safe with me, dudes. You go down, I’m going down with you.”

Tommy doesn’t get it though, because he growls, “Right. ‘Cause all that matters is what will happen to your reputation after giving up your precious sport just to hang with a couple of fags, right?”

“Tom.” Steve snaps, but he gets ignored, Billy arguing over him, “Actually, no. You know all that talk about queer kids flocking together without even knowing? That doesn’t come from nothing. I out you, it’s putting a target on my back, and from there it won’t be not long before a little birdie tells the wrong person the right rumor and we’re all dead.”

“Oh.” Tommy says softly, his face falling.

Billy nods sarcastically in response, “Yeah, oh. So let go of my damn shirt before I find a reason to punch you in the face.”

“Can we just play basketball?” Comes a timid request from behind them, so Tommy lets go, wipes his hands on his shorts, and answers him, “‘Course we can, Stevie.”

It doesn’t take long for them to get bored though, none of them are really in the mood to play after that. They play a small game that’s pretty much just Tommy blocking Billy the whole time, but after he shoots the ball they all just let it roll, none of them caring enough to keep the play going. So instead, Tommy offers up his place to hang out there.

It sounds at least better than this, so Billy drops Max off back at home, making her promise not to do anything stupid to get them in trouble until he gets back later that night, and heads straight to Tommy’s like they planned.

The whole drive he’s worrying that they’re gonna pissed at him and beating himself up for not just pretending like he didn’t notice, to the point where he almost just drives right past, but Steve waves at his car from the front window, and he can’t do all this petty angry shit to him.

Tommy’s house is empty for the night, so that means two things, that they’re free to drink as much as they want, (smoking’s a no go though, the smell is too strong and makes Steve upset), and that Steve sits right on Tommy’s lap like it’s nothing.

Which, it is nothing. Billy just told them he was gay too, and now they don’t have to hide from their best friend, so it’s common sense that they wouldn’t.

But Billy, well, he wouldn’t say he’s jealous watching the two of them together, it just makes his chest burn every time they touch or laugh at some joke and whisper amongst themselves like he isn’t even there, or when Steve kisses Tommy’s cheek.

Yeah no, there’s no pretending, Billy is totally jealous. He’s had a thing for Tommy since like, day one of practice when he bounced a basketball back in his own face trying to show off, and Steve for just as long, yearning to know more about the pretty faced mystery kid who turned out to be a total sweetheart and won him over. It’s tearing him to shreds watching them just being happy together without being a part of that.

He wonders if these small town boys have ever even heard of having more than one partner other than like, mormons, and if they haven’t, how is he supposed to bring it up without sounding like a total weirdo. Maybe he could claim that he was just trying not to be left out since they were probably the only queer kids in Hawkins. Or maybe not and Tommy would try to kick his ass again for even trying.

He doesn’t have to do much wondering though, because as pointedly as he’s trying to ignore them, Steve keeps getting closer to Billy on the couch until he’s sitting in his lap, and Billy has to ask, blue eyes going a little wide, cheeks flushing red in a way that had nothing to do with the sunburn he’d gotten at the park earlier, “What’re you doing Steve?”

“You included me. Now I’m including you.” Steve hums and leans his head on Billy’s shoulder, holding eye contact with Tommy.

To say that Billy is flustered and doesn’t know what to do with himself is more than an understatement. He'd like to say he’s not the most inexperienced one here, but it’s not looking good, because he’s flushed as red as a tomato, and the only thing he can think to say is just, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Tommy says and smiles that big goofy smile of his, a playful imitation of their little argument from before, “And I’d much rather you kiss me than punch me.”

[ohmygoodnessgraciouss]

Reality Check - Chapter 6

Summary: Y/N and Wanda were very close after returning in 2023.  The two bonded over the loss of their partners.  It wasn’t enough to keep Wanda grounded after she found Vision’s body though, and Wanda wants the best for her friend.  Unfortunately for Y/N, this means she’s going to be thrown into a reality she wasn’t expecting.

Notes: Thank you all for your love and support!!  I love you guys so much and your feedback makes me smile.  It’s hard to reply to everyone but I’m keeping tabs on the taglist as much as possible.  I’ve noticed a few usernames are not being tagged on this post, so I’ll be sure to contact them.  Tumblr decided not to tag them I guess lol!  

Anyway, enjoy this new chapter.  I changed things a little bit.  We’re going a little off course of what I had before, hence the reason why this is late.  The chapter I had written at first is only being stocked away for the next chapter, which means it’ll be out sooner than this one did.  I promise! 

Happy Falcon and the Winter Soldier day, everyone! 

“Well Wanda, I gotta skitty before Loki starts wondering where I’m at,” You chuckled nervously.  Watching her fix the wall was incredible.  It was unlike anything you’ve seen before.  So unusual yet so familiar. 

Wanda smiled lightly at you.  “Alright, I understand.  But please feel free to come by anytime.  Whatever you need,” She said.  You smiled back at the woman. 

“Of course!  Maybe I’ll swing by in a couple of days to see the boys!” You waved goodbye to her and opened the door. 

You took your leave, closing the front door behind you.  Vision turned to see you come outside moments later, a confused look on his face.  “Vision?  What’s wrong, buddy?  You look paler than a ghost.” 

Vision turned to look back at the fence, where Herb and Agnes once stood.  The two had left a while ago, but he seemed frozen in place.  “It’s nothing,” He smiled.  

“Are you sure?” You asked, looking back at the fence that he seemed to stare at before he looked at you.  It was cut nearly in half.  From what, you couldn’t tell. 

“Absolutely.  I suppose I’m just rather nervous about becoming a father.  It feels like it happened so quickly.” 

“Well, I’m sure it did, Vision.  You’ll be fine though.  You’re a good man and remember, Wanda’s going to be there too.  Like I said before, it’s not like you’re doing it alone.  You’ve got this whole town.”  

“That’s true.  This town seems to be quite... Supportive.” 

“Sometimes too supportive.  It feels like everyone’s connected sometimes!” You two shared a nervous laugh. 

“Oh yes, everyone here is quite connected.  Sometimes it is almost concerning.  This town is nothing like I have ever seen before.  I feel as though you can’t keep any secrets around here.” 

“Yeah, I know how you feel.” 

~

“What do you mean?” Loki asked, trying to figure out what’s going on.  The blade was pressing against his skin, close to piercing it.  His eyes scanned the man’s face, unable to determine who he was. 

“I won’t ask again.” 

“I don’t even know who you are,” Loki replied, now glaring at the man.  

Scott revealed himself to Loki, green magic engulfing his form.  He wore the same suit as he did before, but his hair was longer now, reaching down to brush his shoulders slightly.  His green eyes were sharper now, and his face was far more defined.  Loki watched as the man morphed into a mirror image of himself.  “Do I look familiar now?” He spat out, annoyed by the impostor.  

“Quite,” He said stiffly.  Loki pushed him back while “Scott” wasn’t paying that much attention.  He walked to the other side of the room, giving the two of them space between one another.  “I am Loki.  But who are you?” 

“That’s impossible,” Scott said.  “This reality’s version of me was supposed to die in 2018.” 

“2018?” Loki questioned.  “The year 2018?” 

“Yes, the year 2018,” Scott rolled his eyes.  “What other year would I mean?” 

“What year is it now then?” 

“2023.  You’ve been dead for 5 years and yet you’re here.  The T.V.A didn’t tell me about this.  Of course they wouldn’t.”

“The T.V.A?” 

Scott ignored his question.  “Now I’m stuck in the Scarlet Witch’s fake reality with another version of me.  But they told me he died.  Is it possible?” He was thinking aloud, causing Loki to grow even more confused. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Scott shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  I have a mission to carry out if I want to get out of there.  Plans have changed.” 

~

Ten minutes later you found yourself walking to Ellis Avenue.  It was close to the edge of town, and very few people lived there anymore.  The sun may have been shining and birds may have been chirping, but you felt like the air was icy as you got closer to the border.  The sign “Leaving Westview: We hope to see you again soon!” looked old and rundown, as if no one had touched it in decades.  An image of a family playing in the park was shown next to the lettering.  Perhaps once upon a time it was a cute sign.  Now it seemed ominous. 

A sense of dread and misery started to seep in as you continued walking closer to the end of the road.  It was like you couldn’t control your own thoughts anymore.  Or perhaps, it was the other way around.  For the first time this week you felt like you were gaining control again.  

Making your way to the border, you noticed that there was not a single person in sight.  The road continued on, making its way through the forest that was only a mile away.  The trees swayed with the wind soundlessly.  A part of you almost seemed to beg to leave the town.  

So you kept on walking. 

It felt like some sort of energy was trying desperately to pull you away from it.  You couldn’t understand what pulled you to this town, what kept trying to pull you back into it.  You hardly remember anything before Westview.  What was on the outside? 

You were abruptly stopped by a barrier.  It was glowing red, much like the other objects you saw a few days ago.  The vibrant color seemed to pulse and move as you walked closer.  It was an electrifying feeling, being this close to the magic that kept everyone trapped inside.  Some part of you begged, screamed for you to stay back.  The other part of you asked for the exact opposite.  

You touched the barrier, a shock running up your arm when you did.  You almost pulled back instantly, but something protected you from it.  You stared in amazement as blue shockwaves seemed to surround your hand.  They disappeared, fading off into the red barrier.  

You turned around, looking to see if anyone was nearby.  No one seemed to be in sight, but you felt like you were being watched.  You turned back to the barrier, pushing your hand further in.  It hurt, but something egged you on, daring you to cross it.  

You took a step in, watching the red engulf your entire body.  You couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn’t even see anything that was going on.  You had two options: Go back into the town that you’re trapped in or see what’s on the outside.  

It seemed to last forever, but it was probably because you could hardly move while you were in it.  It felt as if you were frozen solid.  Whatever it was didn’t want you to get out.  Memories were starting to seep in though.  Memories of the distant past, and memories of what had happened only two weeks ago.  

You gained feeling back in your hand again.  You had to be close to the end if you could feel it.  In just a split second you were thrown out of the barrier.  You collapsed onto the grass, taking a deep breath.  It felt like someone splashed cold water on you.  

Lights began to blind you as you heard voices all around you.  “Put her in custody, and someone get a doctor!” You heard one say.  It was distinct, clear, loud.  Whoever it was sounded like the leader. 

You felt several people pull you up from the ground, placing you on a softer surface.  A gurney, probably.  You blinked several times, squinting to see where you were.  Someone familiar stood next to you.  It was Geraldine.  Was that her name?  

At that point it didn’t matter.  Your head was in too much pain from everything else that was going on to care.  

“You’ll be okay, Y/N.  We’re going to get you checked out,” The woman reassured you.  She smiled slightly and you tried to smile back at her. 

You started to doze off, choosing to sleep and recover from the traumatic experience you just had.  For the first time in a long time you were able to dream.  These dreams weren’t normal though.  

They were memories. 

Memories of everything before Westview. 

Scott watched Loki’s body slowly disappear.  Clearly, he was just an illusion.  Something set up by the Scarlet Witch to keep Y/N in control.  He contacted the TVA on his communicator, sending them a message as he watched the body dissolve.  

He was told that this reality was created by the Scarlet Witch and that he had to get the timeline back on track.  They never told him about Y/N being involved.  They didn’t even tell him that an illusion of himself would be in it too.  

The plan would have to change if he wanted to make sure this worked.  They didn’t even give him an idea of how to set the timeline right.  Now that he knows what’s going on, he has an idea. 

And now, he’ll make sure he gets out of here in time. 

And he’ll be sure to give the Time Variance Authority hell.  

~

Wanda smiled down at Billy, sitting next to Vision who held Tommy.  She felt something turn in her chest.  Something was wrong.  Her eyes widened, and she looked out across the room, zoning out.  

Vision noticed that she seemed distracted, trapped in her thoughts.  He reached over slightly to touch her hand, bringing her back.  She turned to him and smiled.  

“Is something wrong, my love?” He asked. 

“No, nothing at all.  Everything is just fine.” She said, looking down at Billy once more.  

She wasn’t going to concern him with the fact that she knew something was wrong. 

.

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@emberfulclass @momoneymolife @high-priestesss @hailey-the-heathen @mochminnie @dpaccione @intricate-melody @lindseyrae20 @storminateacup15 @ilovemollyweasley @bookgirlunicorn @chims-kookies @austynparksandpizza @yikesdameron @littleladdty @three-eyed-snail @kymera-casterwill @justsomerandompersonintheworld @followthepastelcloud @11mb0 @carolinesbookworld @from-hel-i-with-love @grimalkynslee @boywivlove @prettysbliss @youreobsessedwithmarvel @th3gl1tt3gram3roff1c1al @luthien-t @lokilove3000 @treblebeth @weclassygirl @justfangirlingaround @drpepperobsessed @how-does-this-work @prideofnewberk @matterdontminduntildone

[elcorhamletlive]

i think 2 main things could’ve been done better in s3 to put will in a better situation in s4 in regards to allowing him to move on and have a non-mike related romance plot.

the first being having a conversation with jonathan after his breakdown in 3x03. i always found it incredibly annoying that will and jonathan have conversations in s1 and 2 where jonathan reassures him that it’s okay to be different and like different things than other people but not in the season where will was explicitly struggling the the most with that and the isolation it causes. they don’t actually talk at all in s3 and i think a moment where jonathan somehow finds out that will had a meltdown and destroyed his safe-place would’ve been helpful to push will’s arc forwards. obviously will in s3 wasn’t necessarily ready to deal with his problems, and he couldn’t have some rapid change in the span of a few days, but jonathan coming to him and giving him a little talk like he usually does would’ve been good i think.

the second thing is that i think they should’ve had an actual reconciliation between will and mike in s3 after their fight. their fight at rink-o-mania in s4 hit the exact same beats because they never resolved that conflict in s3 and had to rehash it in order to mend their relationship in “dear billy”. the whole “i was maybe focusing too much on el and i lost you but we can work together moving forwards as best friends” would’ve been a conversation that could’ve been perfectly effective after their s3 fight considering the show pivots back to the supernatural plot after 3x03 and that could’ve been where they were “working together”. (it may have allowed will to be more active in the MF plot too but who knows.) i think it would’ve given will some good perspective onto his relationship with mike at that point and he may not have spent so much time stuck in and questioning those unresolved feelings.

those two things still wouldn’t have rushed will’s overall arc imo, and they could’ve given him a better opportunity to move on by the time s4 came around now that will is finally out to himself. maybe those feelings for mike in s3 could’ve been made into a passing comment in s4 about his way of figuring himself out or whatnot. now we’re unfortunately going into s5 with will being backed into a corner romance-wise. i don’t think it’ll actually take anything that significant for him to move on, and i think b*l*rs who insist will can’t move on in a single season (especially if there’s a time jump) make no sense, but it upsets me that it’s hard to know how much narrative weight they’d be willing to give will with a new love interest in a satisfying way.

Yeah anon I generally agree with all your points. If I'm honest, and I know that this might make some shippers extremely angry, I think the reason the rink o mania fight hits the same beats as their fight in season 3 is that the season 3 fight wasn't written with the idea of Will being into Mike in mind. I think it's definitely something that they had considered at that point, as shown in the original season 2 finale script, but I think by season 3 they could have gone either way with Will's story. Otherwise I feel like they would have hammered home the idea of Will being jealous of El much harder in season 3 - like, showing us Will specifically thinking of Mike when he destroys the fort, instead of showing the entire party as they did.

I don't want to imply the Duffers make shit up in the fly because I don't think that's fair, but as showrunners they seem to be really flexible in the way they allow the story to develop (Robin being gay, Steve's character becoming as important as he did, etc). And I honestly think Will's storyline is not enough of a priority to them that they had plotted it out carefully to go about it in the best, most satisfying way. I believe they always planned for Will to be gay, but him being into Mike was something they didn't feel super strongly about but decided to incorporate because they knew fans would like it and it was an easy way to showcase his story (if I'm super cynical, I'd add that it was also a way to have Will be gay without actually writing a gay romance and pissing off homophobes in the audience; but I will give them the benefit of the doubt here). Like Will's plot just doesn't wrap up in season 3 at all, and I don't think it was intentional, I think it was a writing failure because they cared more about other storylines and characters. I think you're absolutely right, a scene with Jonathan would have done so much for that plot. It could have been a more edited version of the conversation they have in season 4, to be honest - not explicitly addressing Will's sexuality but making it clear that it's not a problem to his brother that he "doesn't like girls". That way, season 4 could have progressed Will's journey a lot further.

And yes, I 100% agree B*l*rs are talking out of their asses when they say it's impossible for Will to move on in one season. Like Will is fifteen years old and he has never even had a first kiss. There's so much that he can still experience romantically that is bound to make a huge impact on him and that, imo, would make him forget about Mike entirely.

[groovyzombiellama]

The Golden/Stylish Trio

Title: The Golden/Stylish Trio

Requested? Yes.

Plot: You are an actress and shoot a project with Alex and Bill and the two of them have a crush on you.

Word count: 1617

—***—

Ever since you were a child, you knew that you wanted to be an actress, and it didn’t matter how many people told you that you shouldn’t dream so high and that you were gonna fail, that just made you want to work more just to prove them wrong. You were constantly told that you wouldn’t have enough work, and that being an actress is stressful and difficult. Of course you knew that, in their own way every job is difficult, but you didn’t mind it because you knew that you would have difficult moments, but you were ready for whatever that world had to throw at you, because at least  that way, you would be doing something you love. You had the support of your immediate family, like your parents in the first place, and so you decided to take a chance and start your path towards making your dreams come true.

At first you had it quite difficult, not really being what the casting agent was looking for, both in terms of character and in your lack of experience. You had sleepless nights thinking about how you were supposed to gather experience when nobody wanted to give you a chance to gain any of it. And you expected this, so it wasn’t a surprise to you, and it just motivated you to do better and go to some classes and stuff, but that doesn’t mean getting rejected so many times didn’t hurt you. There were times where you would feel like the people who told you that you wouldn’t be able to make it were right and that you should just give up and go back home. Your family was alright with you coming back and going to college for something else, but just like your friends, they believed that you could do it and that every beginning is hard, but that doesn’t mean that you won’t succeed. And indeed, with patience, it started happening, you started getting cast.

Of course, you wouldn’t be able to get a lead role right off the bat, but you were getting work as eather a background character, or a very minor character that maybe had one or two lines. And even though it was something small and didn’t mean a lot of camera time, you were still extatic and extremly grateful and happy to even be getting any work at all. Your portfolio was growing, your list of work experience was becoming longer and longer, and a lot of casting agents saw your passion and dedication to acting, to the point where you even got cast as a supporting character in a movie, the so called “best friend trope”, and your lines consisted of pep talks and you were honestly just there to lift up the lead character. But it was the longest time you had spent in front of the camera so far and the most speaking lines you had gotten, so to say you were grateful and excited would be understatements.

You had no idea where all of this was gonna take you, but you were so proud of yourself for not giving up on your dreams. You even sent tickets for that movie to your cousins who didn’t believe you could make it and some of the people who bullied you and said you would never amount to nothing. It wasn’t to spite them, not too much anyway, because you never were a person to hold a grudge or feel good if others are feeling down. You just wanted to tell them that hard work will always pay off and that hard work can beat talent if talent doesn’t work hard. You were getting recognized and it was blowing your mind to be walking down the street and hear people talking about you as you pass them, guessing if you were the girl they had seen in that movie. And it made you smile every time. Eventually you ended up getting an e-mail that changed your life in a drastic way. A huge gig, bigger than any you have had before, with actors that you admired.

You had known Bill Skarsgård from his role as Roman Godfrey in Hemlock Groove, and as the iconic clown, Pennywise, in the most recent IT movies. And when your agent told you that he was gonna be one of your costars, you had to sit down, as your legs felt like they were gonna give out. He always seemed like a truly pleasant person to be around and an actor who really cares about the craft. And his good looks were just a bonus to a very amazing person. And that was the case for your other costar who once again gave you that feeling that you were gonna collapse if you keep standing. The Ivar the Boneless from Vikings, Victor from Outsiders, Alex Høgh Andersen. Alex always had the appeal as a literal ray of sunshine to you and it made your head feel dizzy to be working with them at all, and even when you met them, you couldn’t believe it was true.

Both Bill and Alex found you adorable as you tried not to fangirl around them, and be your cool self, or at least what you thought was cool. Bill had known about you as he had watched one of the movies you were in and he admired the way you put everything you had into your character, so he already knew some things about you, but even with that, you had managed to amaze him beyong belief. To Alex. meeting you was completely new territory, but he was enjoying every second of it, seeing the way every part of you contained the character you were supposed to potray. Even your eyes would show the emotion your character was supposed to be feeling that both men were dangerously close to apologising to you the moment they looked into your eyes as you were filming a scene where you were supposed to have a disagreement or fight.

Both Alex and Bill felt like they were learning a lot from you, as much as you were learning from them. And your vibrant personality, combined with that smile of yours were enough for them to develp crushes on you. It amazed them that neither one of them was able to say anything to you, that when it came to you, they would feel nervous or get tongue tied. When the two of them were talking and you came up, the shock on both of their faces, wide eyed expressions were almost comical as they realised the second they started talking about you that they had crushes on you. They didn’t want to make this a rivalry between them and try to win you over from one or the other. They were gonna leave the choice to you if you ever developped feelings for one of them and the other was gonna support you both. But that didn’t stop them from admiring you constantly and gushing about you in interviews and to each other.

As more time passed, the more the three of you started getting closer, so much so that they put up with the silly nicknames that you gave them and even though Billy and Lexie weren’t their favorite, and they honestly prefered some of your more creative nicknames, or standard “love” or “hun” that you loved calling people who were important to you, they cared about you enough to accept you just the way you were, which meant the world to you. Bill’s brother Gustaf was really glad that his costar from Vikings was friends with his brother, because the cast of the show had become like his second family in a way, and now you were a very dear friend to all of them.

Every interview that you did with these boys was a blast, you would always have fun and if they even sensed that you were feeling uncomfortable with a question or something, the both of them would create a diversion, as you woke up in them the feeling to be protective over you, but not too much that you feel suffocated, but just enough for people to know that you were not someone to mess with, both because of you being a strong and independent woman, and also because you had the two of them who had your back as much you had theirs. You three were truly a great trio, and your friendship was one that you were sure was for the books and that it was gonna last.

Regardless of the fact that their crushes were growing by the day and often times they had to stop themselves from spending entire interviews talking about you, they never forced you into anything, or tried to convince you that one of them was better for you than the other. And their biggest pet peeve was when you didn’t believe in yourself and always claimed that “people were just too kind to you” whenever someone complimented you, because they just wanted you to know that to them you were absolutely amazing and to so many people who were fans of you. But they appreciated that you were kinda using that to keep your humble nature, worried that if you started giving yourself that much credit, you would become vain and too self absorbed. They were thankful that they met you and hoped your friendship lasted a long time, even if nothing more developped from it. You were the Golden Trio, named by the entertainement industry, or the Stylish Trio as fans started calling you after Alex’s post, and you were happy with it.

---***---

SURPRISE @walkxthexmoon !! You wanted either one of aus that I do, but you were always sweet to me and kind, that you get all of it, written, gif and social media au :D <3 I truly hope you like it :)

I appreciate all of you guys and thank you all for your follows, likes, reblogs, I’ll never be able to thank you all enough. Every time I get an e-mail telling me someone followed me, it makes my entire week better and keeps me motivated! So thank you to all of you, I love you all so much, and if people are nice to me I do my damnest to be 10x nicer, because you deserve it back, so this fic took a lot longer to make than I thought, and hopefully it’s a good one and you guys like it, and just once again, I appreaciate all of you <3

[last-standing-byers]

Jonathan’s Interrogation Transcript

WHATS YOUR NAME AND BIRTH DATE?

“Jonathan.” He slumped back in the chair, peering down at his slightly burnt thumb, “Jonathan Byeeers,” drawing out his last name felt natural, “My birthday is coming up, actually  - it’s on November 3rd every year.”

“Okay …. What year were you born?“

“Oh - uh, the year Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club came out … 1967.”

IS THIS YOUR FIRST TIME ON GEM?

Jonathan reached for the lighter and carton of cigarettes in his pocket, placing them down on the table as if smoking cancelled out any gem in his system. “I’ve never done gem - I only smoke.” He held in a smile until it cracked into a long airy laugh. “You can’t … you can’t smoke gem.” He really didn’t know if this was true but it was making sense in his own head.

“I’d never smoke pot, though.” He added, stifling chuckles in pursuit of looking completely sober. “You’ll never catch a bong between theeese lips.” The joke teetered him over the edge.

WHERE DID YOU GET THE GEM?

“Ask Keith.” He shook his head, trying to pull himself together. “If you find his basement, let him know I sent you guys.”

DID YOU GET IT FROM AN INDIVIDUAL RETURNED FROM THE COMMUNE?

“What? - No.” His laughter finally started dying, struggling to understand why he was being asked so many questions. “Barbara Holland doesn’t do back-alley gem deals, alright? That’s all I can say.”

WHAT ARE YOUR CONNECTIONS TO THE COMMUNE?

“I didn’t go to the commune.” He said, opening and closing his eyes to wake himself up, “No one showed up at my door with a pamphlet or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”

HOW ARE YOU CONNECTED TO MR.HARGROVE?

Jonathan squinted, crossing his arms to consider the question. Memories from long ago came to mind. “Do you have a pen and paper?” He asked Powell, feeling the need to provide visual support. Someone eventually passed him a napkin and pen.

He flopped forward on the table and started sketching the scene. “I dealt with Billy a few years ago, I guess. We were … leaving Starcourt mall but the car wouldn’t start and he showed up out of nowhere.” He jumped into the story without context and drew Starcourt mall from memory, incapable of remembering exactly what it looked like. He settled on drawing the outline of a generic house with Starcourt mall written on the front and took his time adding a star, connecting each crooked line.

“My girlfriend-” He paused, backtracking for accuracy, “my ex-girlfriend told me to get in the car, so I did – and the dude starts revving his engine like a maniac and I’m sitting there trying to start the station wagon,” he explained, drawing Lucas and Will in the backseat, “and I’ve got these kids in the back who are yelling at me and she’s out there like…” He scrambled to find a comparison, “she’s out there like Sigourney Weaver in Alien, man - like ready to take down Billy with her bare hands, gun pointed right at him, and she starts pulling the trigger as he’s driving towards us-”

Jonathan paused as he heard a cough (or a laugh ) from one of the officers. He wasn’t sure but he looked up to meet eyes with Powell.

“Right – and who’s your ex-girlfriend?”

“Yeah, she’s my ex-girlfriend. We’ve been separated for- uh, a little over two years now”

“No, kid. Who is your ex-girlfriend? The chick with the gun – Sigourney Weaver?”

“Oh, that’s Nancy. Nancy Wheeler.” He pointed at the stick figure on his drawing. “Nancy Weaver.” A stupid smile curled at the corners of his mouth, fighting to stay composed.

“Okay … So - Nancy … she’s pointing a gun at Billy Hargrove … who is driving a vehicle towards your vehicle?”

Jonathan’s face was starting to ache from all the grinning. He reached a hand upwards to pull at his smile, forcing it to recede, “The station wagon - Yeah, and then Steve showed up and side-swiped the shit out of Billy’s car.”

“Who is Steve? Steve Harrington?”

“My ex-girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend.” He clarified, slouching back in his chair again as he bobbed his head absentmindedly, “they were together … but then, I dunno, you know? I guess … I guess Nancy and I kinda became a thing … and everything was chill - everything was good but I moved to California and Steve-” a laugh started bubbling up his throat and he couldn’t contain it this time, “Well, Steve always shows up at the right time.”

Jonathan was wheezing now, coughing to regain composure.

“Jonathan … can you explain why this was all occurring? … Is is this relevant?”

“We were running from this thing called the Mind Flayer.” He admitted honestly, dragging his finger over the napkin. “It’s like a spider but on steroids and it controls your mind, bro.”

He nodded to himself for a quiet moment, trying to remember the relevance of this entire story. “So - yeah, that’s my connection with Billy.”

HOW ARE YOU CONNECTED TO MR.MUNSON?

“I don’t really know him.” He swallowed, trying to produce moisture in his mouth, staring at Eddie’s mugshot on the wall, “the dude’s basically an Eddie Van Halen reincarnate.”

WAS THIS AN ORGANIZED PROTEST?

“Ooooh cool, I’ve never been to one,” his gaze wandered to Callahan, “What were we protesting?”

DO YOU BELIEVE THE ACCUSED ARE INNOCENT?

Jonathan misheard the question again. “Our client is innocent.” He stated blankly, brows furrowing as he thought back to the courthouse ordeal, “am I … am I here to meet my client or something?”

ANYTHING ELSE?

“I think it’s time for a smoke break,” he grabbed his cigarette carton from the table and fumbled to pull one out, lazily pointing the stick at the big glass wall in the interrogation room, “unless you’ve got my tambourine somewhere back there.”

[lutes-and-dandelions]

Talk about your current wips. ;)

Oh you 😏😘😘😘😘😘😘 you know how to treat a girl right 🤣💖 thanks bb, you’re the bestest 🥰🥰🥰💖💖💖💖💖😘😘😘😘

SO BASICALLY I’m working on one main wip that’s working title is Siren Song and it’s Harringrove cos theyre my baby bois and It is BY FAR the most nice and self indulgent thing I’ve ever written. It’s a supernatural detective fic set 30 years post canon, in London from Steve’s POV.

Robin and Steve moved to London in ‘87 to work for “The Agency”, dealing with the weird and wonderful world of London’s supernatural population, protecting the public from it and it from the public.

Robin no longer works for the agency in the story but her 23 year old daughter, Olivia does, Steve is basically her Dad and now I can’t look at photos or videos of Joe Keery with children without thinking “ah Younger Steve and Baby Olivia”. My brain will never be able to separate the two again.

It’s SUPER SELF INDULGENT because I decided that as Robin is a trumpet player on the show, upon moving to the UK she would put her trumpet down, take up the corner and join a brass band. Brass Bands are not as big as part of UK culture as they used to be but they’re still going moderately strong. I play in a brass band and have for 18 years and I’ve been playing for 20 now. Both of my parents play, it’s how they met. I wouldn’t be alive with them. So I thought it would be fun to inject some of that into a story and it is! I don’t know if it’ll make a lick of sense to anyone who reads it but I am trying to like explain as I go so hopefully that works.

The family love language is insults so I’m having a great time writing the banter plus like it’s 2014 so they have iPhone 5 and can text each other loving insults and Steve may be almost 50 but he’s still Steve, he just likes to complain about how old he is. Plus like he’s had a life, they all have and it’s just really fun to write.

And yeah in the first chapter Billy shows up very unexpectedly and shenanigans ensue and of course, eventually, they fall in love.

Im currently writing chapter 7, it’s just over 20k at the moment. I like to finish stuff before I post them because I don’t like to leave people hanging. I think it’ll probably be somewhere between 18-25 chapters long. The tone is super light, some of the dialogue is a bit cracky in places but I don’t care. I’d love to tag it as a comedy but don’t quite have the balls to 🤷🏻‍♀️

Steve is also obsessed with Greggs (I SAID it was self indulgent).

[marjansmarwani]

It feels like an out of body experience

2k || ao3

“He was talking to both of us,” he repeated, aware that he sounded like a broken record. “Both me and Gabriel. He was going to take what was most important, from both of us.” --- Just a missing 2x12 scene of the moment after Owen realized TK and Carlos were in danger and what follows. Featuring an in-depth look at his guilt because why else do I ever write Owen Strand anymore?

This has been sitting mostly done on my google drive since May and I finally decided to finish it today, for some reason so I hope you’re all in the mood for some angsty Owen content. 

Beta’d by my loves @silvarafael and @justaswampdemon

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

“You thought he was talking to you?” Billy asked with a snort. “I thought he was talking to Reyes.” 

Judd let out a laugh beside him and Owen rolled his eyes, picking up his glass to take another sip of the whiskey. He rolled Billy’s words around in his head as he twirled the glass, watching as the whiskey sloshed around the sides. The thought came suddenly and hit him with all the force of a steam engine. 

“He was talking to both of us,” he said quietly, pulling Judd’s attention to him. He could see the other man frowning but he ignored him. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it sooner; he couldn’t believe it hadn’t been his first thought. 

“He was talking to both of us,” he repeated louder, now pulling the eyes of all the others to him as well. Tommy sat up straighter as she clocked the fear in his eyes. 

“What are you saying?” she asked evenly, using her steady, tempered captain’s voice that he had heard so often on patients in the field. 

“He was talking to both of us,” he repeated, aware that he sounded like a broken record. “Both me and Gabriel. He was going to take what was most important, from both of us.” 

His words hung in the air for a moment as they all processed and began to connect the dots. Owen set down his glass as they did, his hands were shaking too much to hold it. He was already reaching into his pocket for his phone when Judd’s expression cleared and he let out a curse as he figured out what Owen was implying, but he didn’t have the focus to see anything but the phone in his hands. 

Billy still hadn’t figured it out though so Owen spelled it out for him as the phone now clutched to his ear rang: “Our sons. He meant our sons, who live together. He meant TK and Carlos. He rigged their house to burn too.” 

There were horrified looks all around now but Owen couldn’t focus on them. The fear coursing through his veins was too all-consuming; there wasn’t room for anything else. 

The ringing stopped and for a split second, Owen thought that maybe, just maybe he was in luck, that TK had finally answered. But his voicemail answered instead at the tail end of the moment and Owen could feel some of the hope he had managed to cling to slip away. 

The others were watching him intently and he knew that the fear was written all over his face. Grace was the first to speak, breaking the tense silence. 

“You all need to go.” 

They all turned to her and Judd opened his mouth but she shook her head, “Those boys need you. With the 126 closed, there isn’t a house close enough to get to them in time. But you��re close here. I’ll call it in to dispatch, and pray a whole lot.” 

Owen nodded, already standing with Judd on his heels. The younger man paused for all of a moment, turning back to his wife who only shook her head. 

“TK and Carlos need you right now Judd, I’ll be fine. Just be careful, and call me when you’re done.”

Judd nodded and leaned forward to give her a quick kiss, “I love you, Gracie.” 

“I love you too, now go!” 

Owen didn’t need to be told twice. He was already halfway out the door before Grace even finished speaking. He jumped into his truck and was momentarily surprised when the passenger door swung open beside him. He turned, hand frozen over the ignition to see Billy climbing in beside him. The other man took a look at him and scoffed. 

“Well, what are you waiting for, New York? We’ve gotta go.” 

So Owen started the truck and sped away from the curb because Billy was right. TK was in danger and nothing else mattered. 

He pressed the speed limit the entire way from the Ryder’s house to the condo. It wasn’t far and Owen was making excellent time as it was, but that fact did nothing to quell the racing of his heart. He can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. What kind of father was he that when he was told that someone was going to take what was most important to him and he didn’t immediately think of his son? 

If they were too late and the worst did happen, how did he live with himself?

Billy had the scanner app running beside him, and the sound of his son’s address being relayed by dispatch sent an entirely different chill through him. It made it real, hearing the words outside of his own head. All the while his phone rang between them until TK’s voicemail picked up again and Owen swore. He took a breath and tried to let logic in. Maybe Raymond was just trying to scare them; rigging two places to burn might have taken more time than he had. Maybe they weren’t home, maybe they had decided to go out after everything that had happened today. Maybe they had been able to get out at the first signs — TK had been a firefighter, after all. He would have noticed, he would have known how to safely get them both out. He...

His conjecture broke off sharply as they finally reached their destination and Owen suddenly found that he couldn’t breathe. 

There were flames already eating through the first story, their ominous glow cutting through the night. Owen knew in his gut he had been right but seeing it stoked an entirely new fear within him. TK was in there. Carlos was in there. He needed to get them out. 

He moved towards the structure but suddenly there were hands on him, pulling him back. He rounded on the hands holding him, ready to fight back only to be met with Judd’s unimpressed gaze. 

“Running in there half-cocked and getting yourself hurt isn’t going to help them,” he told him, pressing an AFD t-shirt into his hands. “Cover up your face and let me grab the extinguishers, then we’ll go in.”

Owen followed his instructions without much thought, his shaking hands moving on autopilot to fasten the shirt around his face. His gaze never left the flaming structure before him, his chest aching with the knowledge that his son was trapped in there. It wasn’t long before a fire extinguisher was pressed into his hand by Judd, but it felt like an eternity as he watched the flames grow ever higher. He felt as if he were in those flames himself, the fear and guilt eating away inside of him with every passing breath that he got to take that his son might not.  

And then they were moving, bursting through the front door and attacking the flames with their extinguishers. Owen barely took a moment to survey the downstairs — to see the familiar living space charred and destroyed — before he led the way up the stairs to the bedroom, Billy on his heels. The sound of breaking glass had him running faster and he burst through the door to feel his heart jump into his throat at the sight of Carlos preparing himself to jump out of a second-floor window, TK a step behind him.

He shouted at them to follow him as Billy did his best to quell the flames that threatened to stop them. But Owen knew they wouldn’t because he wouldn’t be deterred. Now that he had the boys in his sight, he wasn’t about to leave here without them; no matter what. 

They both turned and looked at him in shock and he can only imagine how little sense this all must make. But then TK was pulling Carlos towards them and then they were out of the room and down the stairs 

He noted the hand that TK kept on Carlos as he stepped in front of them and wondered how much of it was his training and how much of it was the need to know that he was still with him. It was an instinct he understood, as he led the way and did his best to clear their path with the one fire extinguisher he had. He could hear them behind him but he was almost afraid to turn around, as if somehow if he looked back they would be gone; a modern-day Orpheus giving into his doubt and losing it all. So he focused instead on the flames, on finding the next step. On the way forward. 

His mind had almost started to wander again — pondering the terrors and what-ifs even now — but a piece of the ceiling falling to the ground before him interrupted that spiral, wrenching him back to reality. Being surrounded by fire on all sides without a stitch of gear was unlike anything else and he bit back a cry as some of the smoldering debris landed on his arm. But he pushed on because TK and Carlos were behind him and that was all that mattered. He could weather any amount of pain as long as the boys were safe. 

Finally, they burst through what remained of the front door, and before he even paused to take a breath he turned on his heel to make sure that they were behind him, that he hadn’t failed even more than he already had. 

But there they were, hunched over on their front lawn; taking heaving breaths of fresh air and coughing out the remnants of smoke still trapped in their lungs. 

Distantly Owen heard the sound of footsteps behind him and Tommy ran to join them and of shouts as Judd and Billy spilled out of the front door. Tommy gave him a quick look before making a beeline for the boys, reaching out for TK who shook his head and nodded towards Carlos. Her expression softened ever so slightly as she reached out a hand for Carlos, guiding him (and therefore TK too) further away from the flames still eating through the darkness of the night sky. 

Owen watched them go as Judd appeared at his side, following his gaze before glancing down at Owen’s sleeve. 

“Those could be some nasty burns, Cap,” he observed. “You should get those checked out.”

Even as he said the words the 129 was piling out of their truck and the captain was calling out orders. Owen watched them go but knew with a sinking heart that the damage had already been done in so many ways. He shook his head at Judd a moment later, “They’ll keep.” 

Judd opened his mouth to argue but trailed off when he followed Owen’s gaze back to where TK and Carlos were now getting checked out by the paramedics, Tommy hovering at the edge. His expression turned sad at the sight of Carlos hunched over and TK wrapped around him, running a soothing hand up and down his arm even as his mouth moved in what were likely soft reassurances. 

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me Judd?” he heard himself ask, and he wasn’t surprised when the other man looked at him sharply. 

“Who?” he asked, “TK?” He started to speak but then stopped as he glanced back over his shoulder at the home that was crumbling to soggy ashes behind them. His eyes turned back to the couple currently seeking solace in each other in the back of an ambulance before he sighed: “Yeah, he will. He’s good like that. It’s just gonna take some time.” 

Owen nodded his agreement but kept his mouth shut so what he was really thinking didn’t slip through. Maybe, he thought, forgiveness isn’t even what he is looking for. Forgiving could be easy and TK had perfected the art over the course of his life. He knew his son loved him, but love didn’t always mean the same as trust. Trust was something else entirely and Owen couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before his son ever put his trust in him again.