#do you reckon Billy is following him?

[fizzigigsimmer]

I am in a moody place, and as usual writing soothes me. I have no idea if there will be more of this, but have some broody post apocalyptic King!Steve.

The King Unbroken.

Jonathan was right. They must have crossed the border into what used to be California some time ago. Steve stared down at the old sign, half lodged in the dirt against a pile of twisted tree limbs. An old sign, more rust now than interstate green, nearly unreadable with vine cover. He could still just make out the faded off white letters that read: Little Valley. Five miles.

Sneering, Steve nudged aside the sign with the toe of his boot, revealing the dark opening of a small narrow room hallowed out in the stump of a once great tree - now dead, like so much else. He took one final sniff, spine tensing as he caught that faint whiff of salt that had followed him since they’d veered off route eighty. Maybe it was just sea air, carried in by the rain they had earlier that week. Or maybe it was something worse - like Hargrove.

He saw again, sharp blue eyes peering at him from behind the holes of a wooden mask - no doubt lifted from some museum - white paint highlighting the strange swirls and embellishments carved across the smooth surface of the wood, with brightly colored plumes of feathers jutting out from the top, more frightening than beautiful. It should have been cheesy - a jumped up kid with blood colored handprints staining his skin, trying to invoke fear by wearing the relics of some tribe long gone.

It wasn’t.

Hargrove’s reputation for brutality spoke for itself. And those eyes, that had been so focused in their hunger and unapologetic in Hargrove’s base desire to watch something weaker than himself squirm, had said the rest. Billy Hargrove had scared the piss out of Steve and that was saying something, given that between a choice of being handed over to a savage alpha in exchange for safe trade passages, or facing the flesh eating faceless monsters that roamed freely outside of the compound; Steve had chosen the monsters.

Fuck Billy Hargrove. Fuck his dad too. If the apocalypse had taught Steve anything, it was his value. He wasn’t good for much, but he could be a damn good shield for others. Funny it took the world ending for that to sink in. Because it didn’t matter anymore what his grades were or that he’d never been ‘the best’ at anything besides making others feel small while he stumbled down the path laid for him by his family status and his father’s money. None of it mattered because life was now a brutal game of survival, may the biggest asshole win, and even before the monsters gave him a reason everyone said that Steve Harrington was king asshole.

It wasn’t like Steve had gone through any great big revaluation or soul change. Turning over a new leaf had been literally as simple as turning over in his bunk the first night in the compound and accepting that none of the petty shit he used to care about mattered. Only, in the morning he’d still be alive while better people were dead, so either it was swallow the gun still resting on his nightstand or try and find a little good to do. That’s it. All he was living for. The chance to save a few better people and protect them for as long as he could. Maybe if humanity was lucky, one of those people might be the one to figure out how to deal with the monsters for good.

Everyone in the pack was in awe of the omega who carried a bat full of metal teeth and led raids against grey-dog hives, enemy packs and everything in between, like death couldn’t touch him and his heart was made of stone. There were plenty of people who would swear that Steve was heartless - even some of the ones he’d saved from the outside and brought into the pack himself - but he wasn’t. Not really. He kind of thought that if there ever was a moment that he felt safe enough to really think about everything he had been through since Day One, and everything he had done in between to survive, he’d probably lose it. It might break him, and then he truly would have been just a waste of space.

Which was precisely why he shoved it all down and never thought about it for too long. What was the point? Crying about the dead wasn’t going to bring them back. Neither would feeling guilty over the lives he’d taken. The kind of use the pack had for a soft sentimental omega, one who couldn’t or wouldn’t kill to survive was the stuff of nightmares. He’d seen it happen to most of the other omegas in his life. To his own mother. Only the strong survived here. Nothing was given for free. Anything of value on the other hand could always be taken, or traded.

Steve had proven that he could be more useful than just as a source of amusement and slick. That he could soldier with the best of them. He could get hit, kicked, knocked down, clawed full of holes, and drag himself back up every time. Since their first raid together his team had lost the fewest members and they still had the highest success rate of any party in the pack. Steve had carefully selected each member, because he’d always been good at surrounding himself with people stronger and smarter than himself, and convincing them somehow to care for him.

It was his one skill, besides hitting things. But by god he’d earned the right to say he’d proven he could make good use of what he had. He hadn’t survived watching those beasts tear apart his friends, seeing his mother passed around like a party favor for oil, just to end up sharing her fate. Traded off to a savage alpha to be bred and brutalized in an endless circle of hell until he died.

Fuck that!

Pushing the memory of the alpha aside, Steve knelt down onto his hands and knees and crawled inside, backward, tugging the heavy sign back into place after himself, and plummeting the den into darkness.

Breathing deep, the scent of dirt and rot filled his nose, and Steve Harrington breathed his first sigh of relief in days. It was stupid to think he would - no matter how much his dad complained about having to negotiate with a kid, it wasn’t Hargrove that needed them - but if there were any chance that Billy was following him, he wouldn’t be able to find Steve now.

Dead or not, the walls of the oak were thick. The natural scents of decay overpowered those of an unwashed human body. Even one of an omega flushed with heat and damp from exertion. Feeling around in the dark Steve’s fingers found the strap of the backpack with supplies that Robin had stashed there for him. It wasn’t much: a ratty old blanket (cheap in this warm climate). A water bottle (expensive anywhere). And a little plastic packet of Advil (worth more than gold these days).

But it’s more than most people have. Steve had always had more than what most people have. Even before the monsters came and civilization as he knew it crumbled around him. It wasn’t fair maybe, but life wasn’t fair. If it was, shitheads like him would have been the first to go in the apocalypse; the base of their power destroyed and unable to adapt to whatever new society emerged from the rubble. But that wasn’t what happened when the world as he knew it ended.

What happened was rich guys like his dad who survived long enough after the first appearance of the monsters, bought up resources while they fled to whatever approximation of safety money could buy them. They threw even more money at stocks and whatever else they hoped would make them richer once the danger was passed, and the smart ones stockpiled what they knew would become better than money in the event that the danger never did.

It hadn’t. Steve’s highschool, the stock market, and just about everything else from his old life was gone.

A few pockets of civilization still clung to life in a sea of monsters. Each colony ruled by whatever alphas had proven themselves better survivors than the rest, followed by those who hoped to be protected from a worse fate. Billy Hargrove was said to be one of the strongest alphas in the west.

He’d slaughtered the pack and taken over the territory that once had been their primary source of trade with the east. Steve’s father had offered him a king's ransom in goods for the promise to reopen trade. But Hargrove had only seemed to want one thing. The heartless omega he’d apparently heard so much about.

Curling up tighter in the small space, Steve brought the blanket over himself and shivered, despite the temperature he could feel climbing with each passing minute. His heat could not have come at a worse time but mercifully he’d made it to the den. With Jonathan and the others keeping a watch on the area he could be relatively confident that nothing would disturb him for a few days while he rode it out.

And when his heat was over, Steve had a new mission. Another chance to prove to his father that he had made a mistake, trading him to Hargrove.

Steve closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, trying to drift off to sleep to conserve his energy before the worst of the heat arrived. The faintest whisper of the sea tickled in the back of his nose, more memory than real. Haunting him. Steve gritted his teeth and silently renewed his vow.

He was going to bring his father back Billy’s head, along with the territory that came with it. And when he did no one would ever question again why he’d survived this long, unchained and unbroken.

[violetpixiedust]

part 2 to this drabble, can also be read as a stand-alone. billy the kid x innocent! burlesque! reader. smut. (18+) ౨ৎ

warm candlelight bathes your small boarding room in a honey amber shade, emitting molten sunlight. billy’s glossy eyes hold the spring skies as he gazes up at you, entranced as your now loose locks tumble down your shoulders, free of any accessories. your stage makeup has since been wiped down to a less intense look, only accentuating your favourite features.

billy still reckons you look like an angel.

he’s sat at the edge of your double bed, dipping into the tough mattress. his denim clad legs are spread shoulder width apart, boots unlaced- hat, suspenders and gun holster strewn to the side table. a tense breath leaves him as your near bare figure straddles his hips, serene silhouette decorated with lacy lingerie. your manicured hand slips between the open lapels of his half unbuttoned shirt, palm laying flat against his heart, feeling the steady thump, thump, thump, quicken with every moment that passes. butterfly wings tickle your ribs causing you to shiver lightly, billy’s calloused fingertips dancing up the outsides of your spine as your sides meld within the curve of his thumbs.

you gently lead him to lie down, releasing an airy soprano sigh when you feel the brunette man harden against the lace of your panties, arching your back. billy unconsciously bucks his hips up, desperately torn between wanting to take his time with you- as difficult as it may be for a man like him, and wanting to ruin you. one of his sun-kissed hands brush up the length of your arm, a whisper of a smile ghosting his chapped lips as he cups your petal soft face within his rough palm. you follow him down, a joint moan intertwining within the approaching autumn air as your lips finally connect. you taste of sweet liqueur, something floral and bubbly, while the sharp taste of billy’s cheap whisky cuts through your kiss, prompting your nimble fingers to begin unbuttoning the rest of the man’s indigo shirt.

“wearing too many clothes, cowboy.” a teasing giggle leaves your stained lips, causing billy to smirk in amusement before he helps you remove his top, quickly discarding it to the hardwood floor. you can’t help but bite along the plush skin of your bottom lip when your warm gaze meets the sight of his toned, tanned muscle. from his shoulders, to his biceps, his torso.. billy tilts his forehead down to touch yours, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“not gettin’ shy on me now, are ya, doll?�� you try shaking your head, but the steady weight of billy’s large hand against the back of your neck stops you from doing so. he stares at you intensely, and you realize he’s waiting for a verbal confirmation.

“no.” it’s meek, unbelievable. you try again, straightening your posture as best you can in his hold as you tremble within yourself, anticipation crackling between the two of you like a bonfire. “no, billy.”

he kisses you again, devouring you this time, seeming pleased by your answer. you can’t help but moan softly against his lips, twisting your fingers within his greasy locks as his tongue brushes into your open mouth. billy swears he’s never been in the presence of a woman as angelic as you, convinced he’s dreaming as you melodically moan his name like a prayer.

it isn’t until he’s stripped down to his drawers, kissing down the column of your daisy scented throat- simultaneously leaving a path of stubble burn in his wake, that your small hand brushes past his abdomen. you feel his strong thighs jerk below you at the feeling of your gentle fingertips along his privates, whisky breath hot against your jugular as he groans deep within his throat. “don’ have to do that, angel- i-“ you’re already sliding down to your knees, sure to get splinters from the old hardwood below you, but it’s worth it to see billy’s eyes roll back into his skull at the sight of you. praying at his alter. he wants to tell you that you shouldn’t have to do this. that sweet girls like you deserve to be treated with respect and pampered endlessly, taken care of just like his paw taught him- but billy’s not a strong man, not when it comes to restraining himself from getting what he desires. he’s never been able to.

your heart is beating in your ears as you carefully peel back the final layer, doe eyes fluttering when you finally meet the sight of it. it’s the prettiest one you’ve ever seen by far, out of the two previous. rosy at the tip, a bit paler compared to the rest of billy’s complexion, dark curls smattering the base, a touch wild. long. a pearly bead of ivory dribbles down his mushroom tip, and you can’t help but catch it with the tip of your soft tongue before it’s wasted, shivering at the salty taste. a startled moan escapes the man above you, thighs jerking as a shuttered breath rattles through him. “oh fuck, honey. d-do that again-“

the crotch of your panties become slick at the whining melody of billy pleading for your touch, your mind slowly fading away as you fleetingly attempt to remember what your burlesque sisters had taught you. no teeth, hollow cheeks, wet lips, and don’t forget, relax your throat- you lick a stripe up the base of the man in front of you, eager to please. billy can’t help but white knuckle the sheets below him, expression twisting as he restrains himself from thrusting up into the haven of your warm, wet mouth. you feel like heaven. languid, attentive-

it isn’t until he’s halfway between your lips that you suck, and he’s instantly scrambling.

“shit, shit, shit- h- honey- get off.” billy manages to groan out, pulling your tight little mouth off of him before he accidentally blows his load. a growl barely hides itself in the back of his throat when he hears you whine at the loss of him, unable to stop himself from manhandling you back onto the bed as you squeak. “need these off, doll. please.”

it’s quiet for a moment- besides the rustling of the earth past the smudged window, a few drunken howls from down below disappearing into the inky sky. you cup billy’s face despite his large hand encasing your wrist, watching as his pleading expression fades into delight when you nod giddily. his fingers toy with the satin closure of your bra, searching your hazy gaze for any hesitance before pulling, undoing the flimsy garment. billy has half the foresight to haphazardly toss the lacy piece of clothing away, narrowly missing the flame of a candlestick as his cobalt eyes shamelessly rake over your frame. he can’t help but run his calloused hands over the smooth mounds of your chest, tentatively squeezing, before his thumbs flick your nipples experimentally. the outlaw’s lips part in awe as your back arches perfectly in response, hungrily kissing up your sternum with soft breaths in between, toned arms curling behind your back to keep up his loving assault. “christ, angel. you’re perfect-“ he mumbles against your chest, eyes falling closed as you rake your nails over his shoulders, travelling up his neck, before finally scratching his scalp in a way that has his pelvis thrusting into the empty comfort of your cotton sheets, hissing. “need to taste you.”

a trembling moan escapes your swollen lips at billy’s raspy declaration. you had only heard stories from your burlesque sisters about men who put their mouths on women there. it was foreign to you. a feeling you couldn’t possibly imagine until billy hooks his fingers beneath your lacy panties, gently kissing down your tummy as if you were made of glass, till he was able to pull the skimpy fabric down at eye level. you hear him swear, quickly pushing yourself up onto your elbows before he meets your eyes, sky blue now steel grey with desire. wordlessly, he licks a stripe between your folds.

you’re hooked. caught within billy’s trap when his tongue swirls around the pearl of your clit with precision, alighting your being with shameless desire for the man below you. your soprano moans fill the night air as your thighs shamelessly lock around billy’s ears, his strong arms anchoring around the muscles to keep you in place. “fuck. y’taste like peaches.” billy mumbles blissfully against your pussy, devouring you like a man starved. you can’t help the ringing in your ears, the blood pumping to your core as your hips helplessly arch into the outlaw’s face, his large nose brushing just where you need him the most, sending you over the edge.

billy groans at the sweetness that emits from your core, lapping it up as best he could without completely losing his rapidly withering restraint. “need you inside of me, billy.” the outlaw’s neck nearly cracks with how quickly he looks up at you. you’re ethereal. a light glow of mist dusting your complexion, illuminated by the ever dying candlelight. he watches as your lashes flutter gradually, practically fanning through sticky molasses. billy nods, placing a final few kisses up the inside of your thighs- barely hiding his smirk when you twitch with sensitivity- your torso, till he reaches your lips, whispering as gently as his baritone voice would allow him to.

“lay back.”

you want to be consumed by billy forever, you think, fleetingly.

you just don’t know that the outlaw is already doing everything in his power to make it so.

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch12

Description: sorry for the long wait guys! Work has been crazyyyy - anyway. Here it is! Lil bit of progress with Simon - I reckon it’ll be 1 step forward, 2 back for a little while. Simon and Laika are both as fucked up as each other!! It’s a long chapter to make up for the wait. Hope you enjoy!!

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

I'd been warned during dinner last night that I was going to be 'put through my paces' today. The Captain told me to get a good nights sleep. Kyle and Johnny dropped me off at my room - Kyle said goodnight with a soft kiss to my cheek, and Johnny told me not to let the bed bugs bite. He also kissed me on the cheek, but it was far too close to the corner of my mouth. He must have missed his target. I spent all night trying to brush it off.

*Johnny's POV*

The pizza had been good, Kyle was bold and kissed our little lass on the cheek. I couldn't stop myself, had to one up him.. Her little blush and awkward reaction made it worth the risk. Gaz and I practically ran back to our shared room - we needed to rest up for training tomorrow. We finally get to see what our little Lass is made of.

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Knock Knock Knock

"Lass? Can we come in..? Y'ready for us?"

I'd just stepped out of the shower. "Uhh - two seconds.. I'm just getting changed" I shout back through the door. I rush to pull on some workout shorts and a black sports bra. I glance at myself in the mirror. I swear that I already look healthier - I'd gone sort of gaunt during my time at the facility. My skin looks brighter, I'm cleaner and relaxed... and happier.

"I'm dressed but still need to braid my hair.." As soon as the words have left my mouth, Johnny barrels into the room, followed closely by Kyle. "Mornin', Lass" - "Hi Johnny" I reply, softly. Kyle puts his arm around my shoulders and smiles brightly at me "ready for today? Cap's in charge of what we're doing.. just need to see where we are at with you.. apparently there's shit going down in Mexico so we might need to step in over there... Just before Christmas too.." he sighs sadly.

I furrow my brows - "Christmas? I thought it was October??" - "Ignore him, Lass, he is one of them crazy people who wants to put the tree up straight after Halloween".

I look at Kyle and giggle. "I thought it was winter when you first found me" - "It's always winter in Russia to be fair" Kyle jokes back. "Yeah but you can't go confusing me like that.. I've not been aware of seasons or dates for years, I was just starting to grasp it again.. so no Christmas stuff until December...?" I explain, feeling more and more relaxed around the two younger Alphas everyday. "You promise to be here for Christmas, then?" Johnny bargains. There's that sad flip in my stomach again. "I - I don't know where I'll be, Johnny.. I don't think I am in control of that decision".

"We'll not let you leave.." Kyle jokes "Aye, hide you away from the others" Johnny continues, nudging Kyle. They both laugh but I just shake my head.

We are interrupted by the Captain who stands in the open door, not stepping inside. "Laika, didn't I tell you that those two shouldn't just let themselves into your room like this...?" - "I - I let them in, Cap- Sorry- John" he huffs a laugh "If you say so. Put your trainers on and let's get to the gym before the basics turn up for the day. Ghost's there already". he grumbles, rolling his eyes at the possibility of basic training turning up mid-session.

"You don't have to worry if the rookies turn up, Lass. They're a bunch of prats, think they're all Billy big baws and like to throw their scents around and show off.. if any of them bother you, we'll sort 'em out" I look at Johnny and nod with furrowed brows. I was nervous.

The Lieutenant is loitering menacingly at the sparring mats when we all arrive at the gym. "Took your fuckin' time" he grunts. I try not to react but I can't help the guilt that washes over me. "Laika, on the mat" he jerks his head toward the mat. I obey and step onto the mat, ringing my hands together nervously, chewing the skin inside of my cheek. "Gaz, I want you to go through basic sparring movements, see what she's made of" the Luitennant orders. Kyle looks between the masked Alpha and myself with unsure eyes. "Are you sure..?" I look up at him nodding "I'll be ok.. orders are orders" I reassure myself, trying to slip back behind my own mask. Trying desperately to become the asset again. Unfeeling, cold and calculated.

My eyes start to take in Kyle's movements, analysing when and how he will move. He is the leanest of the pack of Alpha's, meaning he is probably the fastest. But I'm smaller and, hopefully, smarter. He steps, hesitantly onto the mat and raises his arms into a defensive position. "Gaz, for fuck sake, move!" the Lieutenant barks "She ain't going to throw the first punch!" Something inside of me screams 'NOW'.

I leap forward and slide to the ground taking Kyle's legs out from under him before he has the chance to react. He was too busy concentrating on the upper half of his body.

Kyle falls backwards and lands just beside me, so I scramble to get nearer, using my legs to restrain his arms and placing my forearm over his throat firmly so he couldn't move. I meet his eye, and he looks completely shocked. Then a slow smirk starts to form on his face. He reaches up and taps twice on my back. Impressive, lovie" he chuckles. I release him and clamber away from his body, which is still laying flat on the mat, I start apologising over and over again..

"Soap.. your turn. Try not to get distracted like Garrick did, this is all pointless if you go easy on her.." Ghost barks. I look at Johnny with sad eyes. "C'mon, lass.. you heard the man. Lets have a proper tussle" he wiggles his eyebrows. My body betrays me, as it so often does, falling victim to Johnny's flirtatious comments. I blush and look away. This time Johnny is on me as quickly as I look away. I'm the one caught off guard this time. SHIT.

He gets us both to the ground and I can tell he is attempting to use his weight advantage against me. He just wants to get me pinned which will win him the match. I realise that I need to get back to my feet, and fast. I allow him to roll me far too easily which gives me the momentum to push away from him. I knee toward his crotch while we roll and manage to catch him lightly, just enough for him to curl in on himself slightly, giving me a small enough window to climb back to my feet.

He tries to get up quickly but he is on his knees. I grab his neck and use all of my body weight to pull him to the floor, practically wrapped around his torso like some sort of demented koala bear. He chokes slightly and taps twice on my upper arm, which is currently holding his neck in a headlock. I immediately let go, "Sorry.. I'm sorry. I hate this..." I panic, thinking that I'd pissed him off. "Lass, nothin' to be sorry for. You're a feral little madam on the mats.." He brushes his legs off and grabs me around the shoulders, pulling me towards his chest. He presses a quick kiss to my hair and pushes me gently back towards the mat, not before whispering in my ear "Clever little Lass".

"Not bad" Ghost says. "Tell me what you think of knives.." - "the winner of a knife fight is whoever dies second, or finds help quickly enough to survive. No one stays clean in a knife fight.." I murmur. The luitennant tilts his head and narrows his eyes at me. It's difficult to read his thoughts when he has the mask on, but what I'd said obviously struck a nerve with him. "Show me what you mean by that - here.." he hands me a dummy knife and steps toward the mat behind me..

"Wi-with you..?" I ask nervously. "Problem?" he grunts back at me. I shake my head.

He stands there with confidence. I must look ridiculous. I don't know what to do. The lieutenant suddenly takes a wide swipe with the knife, it narrowly misses my stomach thanks to my quick survival instincts telling my body to jump backwards. I suddenly snap back into the 'asset' mindset. I leap forward and aim for his head. His eyes, to be specific. I see a flash of surprise cross his eyes before he slams the knife from my hand, pain shoots up my entire arm but I ignore it. I react by kicking his outstretched arm so that he is also knife-less. I then leap at him and try to clamber up his back. He grabs me by the shoulder and slams me hard on the ground winding me. I slide backwards, terrified at the behemoth of an Alpha towering over me. I whimper, scared trying to get away, still winded and pain still shooting up my arm.

"Stop. STOP" he bellows. I whimper again, confused and terrified. I can see a storm brewing behind the masked Alpha's eyes. "GAZ - get her up, for fuck sake.." the Lieutenant storms away from the gym, the Captain following closely behind him. My eyes don't leave his form until the gym doors swing shut and Kyle and Johnny are cooing at me, trying to calm me down.

*GHOSTS POV*

FUCK, she's not a trained soldier by any stretch. But Christ, she goes into a desperate survival mode. Kill or be killed is the only description I can think of. Watching how she sparred with Kyle and Johnny, she was scared. Acting out of fear, and fear alone.

I wanted to see her knife skills - I don't know why I decided I should spar with her. She suddenly switched. That look in her eyes. She was feral. She was genuinely trying to hurt me. She had no differentiation between training and real fighting. It was all real to her. Kill or be killed - and she thought I was trying to kill her... She thinks I'm a monster.

I try to stop her by disarming her, I know my thumping blow to her arm must have hurt. It had to, but she barely even flinched. She was in survival mode. She caught me off guard and disarmed me. Clever girl, leveling the playing field - if this was a real fight that is - but I was trying to halt the fight. She needed to cool off before she went even more feral.

I was NOT expecting her to leap at my back and try to choke me. It left me with only one option - to flip her and get her flat on the ground. It worked for a couple of seconds. She paused, the look in her eye no longer murderous. But within a split second, she stunk of pure fear. Like she was staring at death himself. Me. I try to step forward with a hand out to show that I was no longer armed but she backed away, eyes flashing like a cornered dog.

SHIT. Why'd my stomach do that. I'm trying to help her and she's fuckin' terrified of me. Fuckin' hurt her too.

"Stop" I try. It doesn't work. "STOP" fuck Simon, why can't you be fuckin' gentle for once?! Brute - my brain shouts at me.

"Gaz - get her up, for fuck sake.." I shout. She looks helpless but, fuck, I feel helpless as well. I've never felt like this.

The sharp, sour smell of her fear. It makes my eyes water. Makes me want to fuckin' hurl. I turn and leave, not feeling well all of a sudden.

She has two Alpha's she actually likes to help her. Fuck, I hope she isn't hurt.. I don't deserve nice things. My Pack are probably going to drop me now. The fucking brute that you are Simon Riley.

The anger at my own stupidity boils over. I'd almost made it back to the Pack room but my fist meets the wall before I get there. I roar, angrily - or did it sound more broken than that? FUCK. Then I smell Price. He is fuckin' seething. I can already smell him.

I slam the door to the shared room and slide down the wall, grabbing angrily at my mask. I rip it from my face. "ARGRGHHHHHH" I roar again. I grab fistfuls of my hair. Fuckin' prick.

I hear the door close and then a presence sit beside me. It's Price.

"What the bloody hell happened back there Simon?" he growls. I can tell he is holding back his rage.

"She was feral" I grunt. I didn't know what else to say..

"And why was that..? Why did you let it get to that stage..?" he asks. Fuck sake, he is treating me like a fuckin' child.

"Wasn't just me. The girl doesn't know the difference between practice and survival.. She was fighting for her fuckin' life" I growl, pulling at my hair.

I feel his hands pry mine away from my head. "Simon. C'mon. Look at me.." - "Alpha - I need some time..." I break slightly.

"Time for what, Simon?" - "Time to think. I don't understand what is happening.. I can't stand the girl. I can't be near her"

John stays silent beside me, knowing that I needed to find my own way out from this maze.

"But.. but when she had that look in her eye, I needed to protect her. Protect her from me.. It's either me or her, Cap. I can't be near her. I'll kill her".

A warm hand grips my shoulder and squeezes. "Simon. You are too hard on yourself. You are the glue that often holds this pack together. Laika is finding her place in a new world. You've been in a similar position. I have a feeling you two are more alike than you think. Please, give it time. I'm not throwing you out of the pack, Simon. I'm not even angry at you. Never doubt your place or importance here, Simon - Never. Is that understood?"

My eyes furrow. I grab my mask and pull it back over my face. "Yes, sir. Understood" - "good, now come. The boys will have calmed Laika down by now" - "I hurt her" I interrupt. "You didn't mean to. I know you were trying to stop the fight. I saw it" - "she will need the medic.. I hit her hard. Can't do anything gentle. Fuckin' brute" - "Simon.. you did what you had to... she was going feral. C'mon, no more sparring. We will move onto target practice and finish with a five kilometer run - together. That'll be enough to fill in her file. We can make up the rest. She is on the team, I don't care about all of the tests".

I can feel my head clearing, the pack Alpha had successfully dragged me from a dark spiral. My panic attacks were not pretty. I get back to my feet when he offers me a hand to help hoist me up. "Sorry.." - "No Simon, save your apologies. Small steps, yeah? Let's work on chipping away at that wall you put up around Laika first. The boys adore her already.." - "I know. Johnny reeks of her at night time. Felt like I was wakin' up next to a fuckin' Omega this morning" - "Simon, she hasn't presented. I had her tested - results aren't back till next.." - "John - she is a fuckin' Omega. Stunk of honey and oranges since the first time I saw her tied up against the wall when Johnny found her. Can't you smell her..?"

"Faintly. The doctors said her scent will settle once the drugs leave her system. But her scent - it's barely there, Simon. She smells more like Johnny and Kyle right now" he shakes his head at me as if he doesn't believe me. "That's impossible.." - "I'll talk to the doctors tomorrow, Simon. We've got to get through today. I've got Kate on at me about Mexico - we will need to decide what to do about that - so the sooner she is cleared to work with us, the better, understood?" - "Yes, sir" - "Right, screw your head back on and come with me. I'll take the lead for the rest of the day. You sit back with Johnny and cool yourself off, ok?" -

“Affirmative”

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Kyle and Johnny saw what happened. They saw me trying to kill their pack mate. "I'm sorry - I don't - I don't know what happened.. I'm.." - "Shhh Love, hey, look at us - you need to look at us. We aren't angry at you. The Captain is with Simon, he will be ok. We need to check your back and your arm. You got hit pretty hard.." Kyle explains, stroking my cheek.

"Aye, Lass, c'mon, let us have a wee look, just want to make sure you're ok.." - "I'm fine.. I'm ok.." - "You sure..?" - "Yeah, promise" I assure them, even though I am feeling the aches from Ghost's hits. I jump slightly when the gym doors crash open. It's them. The Captain and Lieutenant. Ghost stops about 10 yards from the rest of us. I try not to look toward him, still feeling nervous. I see the Captain nod Johnny in Ghost's direction and Johnny immediately walks toward the massive Alpha and comforts him.

The Captain steps closer to me. "You're ok to continue? Not hurt?" - "No, Captain" I pretend. "Ok, we are going to the shooting range.. boys, lead the way" He directs toward Johnny and Ghost. They both turn and lead us to the shooting range. It's a huge open field. Targets and metal human-shaped silhouettes peaking out from behind pretend trenches and sand bag walls.

There are a couple of sergeants already shooting when we arrive. I get handed a set of ear protectors from John. He then walks me to a locked metal shed and explains that this is one of the gun-stores on the base.

"You said you were a sniper?" _ "Yes" - "What'd you use..?" - "Uhm.. A gun..?" - "You don't know what model of rifle?" - "Oh.. sorry.. no - I just used what they gave me, just happened to be quite good" I admit shyly. He huffs a small laugh and then grabs a large case and lays it gently on the ground, opening the top to reveal a huge, dark green rifle.

"This is an Accuracy International rifle.. we've used them for a long while now, best you'll get. We can alter sights and scopes to suit you. They're quite lightweight compared to other manufacturers. In all, it's probably seven kilos - give it a try and see what you think, Love". I stare at the piece of metal as if it would jump out and attack me. "This is the L96 model.. I assume that you used a Russian SV-98 type? They're popular over there. Poor mans sniper they are, if you were good with one of them, you'll be impressive with one of these" the Captain rambles. It's all pretty pointless to be honest because I know nothing about guns. I was just thrown one by a guard and told to shoot it, and punished if I missed. You learn fast that way.

I listen to him talk anyway, enjoying the gruffness of his voice and the fact that he seemed quite interested and excited to talk about guns. I nod along as if I understand what he is saying. "Ok, Let's give it a try then, love" -he hands me the gun and stands closely behind me. "See that target over there" he points "I want you to hit that - take your time". I nod and get comfortable holding the rifle. It feels different. Foreign. I lower myself to the ground and eye up the target in the scope. I breathe in and hold my breath. One, two, click.

"Well done - slightly left but hit the target" the Captain says. I furrow my brows, confused. "Can I try again?" I ask, disappointed. He shrugs and nods. I aim again and concentrate more this time. Breathe in. Hold it. One, Two, Shoot... Fuckin' left again.. what the fuck?

"You're doin' well, Lass. Why are you pissed off. It's not like you're missing.." Johnny pipes up. I scoff at him. "It should be hitting dead center.. I don't miss, Johnny.. I can't miss like this.." I rant. "I'm trying again, I think the guns sight is off.." I get into position the same as the last two tries but this time I aim half a line further to the right of the cross hair. One, two, Click. I huff a laugh. "Got it.. I need to aim off to the right to make a clean hit. I'll get used to it.." I mumble, continuing to eye the scope and point the rifle in different directions, pretending to aim at things. "Whoa, lass. Dinnae point it at us, fuck sake" Johnny jokes as I start turning slowly towards the pack. I was totally in my own little world there.

"We can have the sight adjusted if you like?" John offers "although I doubt it's this one that's been off. I reckon the one you've learnt to shoot with is off - so you naturally drop your rest arm to allow for the difference. Have you noticed that..?" John questions. "Uhm, no.. I've only ever used that sniper rifle.. I don't really know much about guns - was just given a crash course to be honest.."

He smiles and pats the top of my head "Well you ain't half bad for just having had a crash course, love - those hits would have passed you as a sniper here anyway, yet here you are complaining that you're a couple of millimeters left of where you wanted it.." I laugh nervously and look down at my feet.

Kyle walks up beside me and removes the gun from my arms and places it gently back in its case. "Better shot than most of us, anyway.. I reckon with a bit of familiarization with the new scope, you'll out-perform LT" I immediately glance back to the ground and feel nervous, scared to feel the wrath of the Lieutenant again. I subconsciously rub my sore arm before the Captain speaks up. "I wanted to end the day with a quick five kilometer run. It'll give Laika chance to see the perimeter of the base and also good exercise for you three lazy buggers!" he jokes. Johnny clutches his chest in false offence, Kyle just laughs and walks himself over to the Captain, giving him a gentle shove. "Lazy, sir? I'm not sure about that.." I blush - was he flirting with his Alpha? I shouldn't be witnessing this. I'm not one of them.. The Captain chuckles darkly and jokingly grabs Kyle by the scruff of his neck and growls softly at him, causing the younger Alpha to groan and blush. I turn away.

Johnny just laughs along, elbowing Simon who still looks pissed off from this mornings encounter.

The gun case gets placed on the floor of the large cabinet, stood upright. The Captain goes and chats to the supervisor and takes a small paper ticket and signs something. I watch from a distance, assuming he was just signing the gun back into storage. He returns to the group and smiles "Right, get your arses in gear. Take the first km steady as the warm up, then we will see who's the fastest. Finish is back here. Full lap of the base.. no cheating, Simon". I furrow my brows again, god I do that a lot, I'm going to get a frown line if I'm not careful. The Lieutenant didn't strike me as the type to cheat on a simple jog. I shake my head and watch the others limber up and stretch. I don't join them. Just watch, confused. I only ever ran when I was forced or chased. Never for.. leisure?

"Right, Kyle - lead us off for the first few hundred meters, just to get us onto the outside loop" - "Yessir'" Kyle chirps back. He strides off quickly. I try to stay with Johnny. Simon and John jogging gently behind. I stay on Johnny's heels for a few minutes but can feel myself getting tired. He keeps looking round at me as if he is surprised I'm still that close to him. Kyle is away out in front. How does he make it look so easy?! He is barely breaking a sweat, looks like he is just floating. I guess he was the best runner of the team. Johnny runs like a man possessed. I huff a laugh, his run matches his personality. All elbows and fast movements. He looked busy but he was still fast. I glance behind to try and spot the other two Alphas.

"Dinnae' look back when you're running Lassie, you'll trip!" Johnny shouts, while running backwards. What a showoff! I scoff and roll my eyes at him before wiping the sweat from my brow. "The two big'uns are slow, lass! Too heavy to be speedy like me and Kyle.." He jokes, speeding up and slowing down. "Johnny!" I pant, struggling to talk while gasping for air "Stop showing off!" - "No, Lass - I'm impressed, you're doing well! Didn't think you'd keep up with me to be honest - Gaz ran track when he was at school, he coulda been a pro runner, fucken bullshit. He has the record on base - as if I didn't almost bust a fuckin' gut to beat him to still lose" he laughs. I glance up ahead and Kyle is barely even trying. In fact, it looks like he is on his phone.. he has slowed right down as if he is waiting for us.

I just concentrate on forcing my feet to keep hitting the ground one in front of the other. I couldn't say that I was enjoying this, but it was better than being forced or chased.. It was weirdly satisfying. My lungs were on fire but I wasn't in danger.. I was just running for the sake of it - something I never thought I'd ever manage to do again. I felt like a child in a playground. The strange nostalgic feeling helps to push the pain and fatigue away. I actually somehow manage to pick up the pace. I glance back behind me and can no longer see the two larger Alphas. Just Kyle a couple of hundred meters ahead, and Johnny about ten meters in front of me.

I fall into a relaxed state, all I could hear was my own breaths and all I concentrated on was keeping them even. In Out In Out In Out. A few meters we turn a corner and I spot the Captain and Lieutenant ahead of us all. HANG ON A FUCKIN' MINUTE - CHEATS. I speed up, as does Johnny. "Ya see that, Lass, fuckin' Cap dinnae even take his own advice. Let's get them!" He shouts back to me mischievously. I giggle and shake my head fondly, but push myself faster.

Kyle goes past them first and obviously makes a comment because Ghost gestures with his hands and John throws his head back and laughs while still jogging slowly. I don't quite hear as Johnny and I are still about fifty meters behind them. C'mon, lass - you jump Cap, I'll get Ghost.."

"Jump... wait Johnny - what do you mean...?" Johnny had already shot off and almost caught up to them. I push myself into a sprint and my face splits into a huge smile. Johnny had leapt onto Simon's Ghost's back and bundled them both to the ground. I don't quite know what came over me in the moment. I laugh and leap at John in the same style that Johnny had with Ghost. John huffs as I hit into his back and stays running for a few strides before eventually loosing his balance and falling to the ground. He rolls so that he is underneath me and takes the brunt of the fall. He grunts as his back hits the grass. I can hear Johnny cackling like a madman and then the Captain speaks from underneath me.

"Johnny's bad behavior is rubbing off on you, love.." I blush and look away, only to meet eyes with Kyle, who is smiling brightly at the scene in front of him. I decide to be very brave. I stop laughing along with Johnny and sit back on his lap and reply back playfully "Bad behavior, Sir? It wasn't us who broke our own rule of not cheating.." I trail off, feeling nervous at how he was going to take my response. He goes silent before growling. I freeze momentarily before I feel his warm arms around me. He stands easily holding my weight and drops me off in Kyle's arms. "Cheeky little thing, you are. I'll need to ask Kyle to teach you some manners, you little minx.." My face heats up and I hide in Kyle's shoulder, giggling. I look over to Johnny who is beaming even though he is pinned by the largest Alpha. Christ, the Lieutenant is massive. Something inside of me makes me whimper, thinking that Johnny is in danger. I wriggle slightly and Kyle turns me away from the scene and whispers into my ear "Simon would never hurt any of us.. trust me on that, yeah?" I whine a reply along the lines of 'mmmhmm'.

*John's POV*

Simon and I decide to treat the final run as a leisurely jog. I already knew that the two young Alphas would shoot off like bloody rockets. They always did the same. What I don't expect is for little Y/N to keep pace with Johnny. Yes, she looks like she is struggling slightly, but the girl has guts. She keeps the pace.

Simon grunts at me around half way through, says that we should meet them at the end so that they 'don't get up to any mischief'. Of course, I agree, and nod in the direction of the best short cut. My knees aren't getting any younger, after all.

Simon and I rejoin the outer perimeter, having cut the top loop out. Kyle jogs by and tells us that our cheating isn't going to go down well with Johnny. Simon tells him to 'do one, Garrick' and something about how we aren't all 'failed athletes' like him which forces a laugh to bellow from my mouth. Such a back handed compliment.

The next thing that I do not predict happening is for Johnny to fell Simon like a fuckin' tree - the boy near on rugby tackles the lad. I watch it all happen from the corner of my eye, laughing as Simon hits the deck and Johnny crawls over him. The boy is like a terrier. Insatiable and endlessly energetic. The next thing I don't reckon on happening is for Y/N to creep around my peripheral vision and leap onto my back.

It's a given, she is much lighter that Johnny, but she also carries herself with much more grace. Her 'rugby tackle' method was rather cat-like. I manage to stay upright for a few strides until her leg taps mine, causing me to trip. It was one of those falls when you know you're going down. It gives me time to spin and take the fall so that I don't land on her, or catapult her, face first, into the grass.

I land on my back and stare back up at her happy face while she is draped across my chest, clung like a Koala. Her walls were down in this moment. She is genuinely happy. I have to move heaven and earth to not grab at her. Her scent is rolling off of her - as strong and sweet as I have smelt it. Control yourself, John!

She blushes like crazy at my comment - about how Johnny is rubbing off on her. She then sasses back at me and Christ, I need to get away from her before I do something that will scare her away. But I'm a greedy man. I stand with her, not quite able to release her yet. I drop her off with sweet Kyle. He wouldn't take advantage of her like I would. I cant help myself. I make an overly sexual remark about Kyle teaching her manners. We all know it wouldn't be Kyle who taught her manners. That job is down to Simon and I. Kyle and Y/N blush, I notice that Kyle nuzzles into her neck when she hides her pretty little blush in his shoulder. Cheeky boy couldn't help himself could he?

Something changes in her expression when she looks up to see Simon pinning Johnny. Then, almost within a split second, her scent changes to a sharper, sour scent. She is scared again. Simon notices the change without even looking. I can tell by his body language. He softens his hold on the younger Alpha and leans down to scent him, Johnny laughs and nuzzles all over Simon's mask. I glance to see how Laika reacts but Kyle had already turned her away. Damn it!

When will she ever see the soft side of Simon Riley?

I take a deep breath, to try and calm myself down from the earlier excitement. As an Alpha, I hadn't had a woman - let alone a possible Omega - sitting on top of me for years now. Of course, my body reacted accordingly. Once I've successfully chilled out, I turn and step back towards a smirking Kyle and a happier Y/N.

I push the loose strands of her hair back behind her ears. "C'mon love".

She giggles and apologises for her earlier behavior. "Don't ever say sorry for having fun, love. I enjoyed seeing you like that. Even Simon chuckled at your little sassy comment.." I wiggle my eyebrows. She blushes again and looks down. She really is unsure of Simon.

I'd - We'd - need to rectify that...

- two days later -

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Darkness, wet, blood, pain, screaming...

Another nightmare. I thought they were getting better. I cannot get myself out of this one, tossing and turning. I can feel the sweat and tears falling from my face. Was that real or just the nightmare?

*Ghost's POV*

A blood curdling scream echoes the hallway at about 1AM. I was sitting in the kitchen with my feet up on the coffee table, reading a book. I stand up immediately and follow my nose to her room. What the fuck am I supposed to do. The others are all asleep, she is fuckin' terrified of me but she is whimpering and crashing about in there. Fuck it. I'm going in. The annoying Alpha voice inside of my brain is screaming to help her. I wish it would shut the fuck up to be honest. It's been louder than ever since the second she turned up.

I bang on the door - no answer. I step into the strange room hesitantly. Stupid girl didn't even lock the door. I know that Alphas shouldn't intrude Omega's nests, but she needed help.

She isn't on the fuckin' bed. She's ran away, heard me fuckin' coming. She is hiding somewhere. Stupid fuckin' bastard - should never have come in here. She probably thinks I'm coming to kill her.

Over the sound of my thoughts, I hear another pained whimper. The cupboard. Don't tell me that she's-

She is in the fuckin' cupboard. In a fuckin' nest. A nest with Johnny and Kyle's clothes and - is that Cap's missing towel? He lost that yesterday..

I find myself staring at the sight inside of the cupboard. Probably for too long, because I'm drawn back to the situation when she starts breathing erratically.

I try to gently tap her arm. She doesn't wake up. I squeeze her arm now, she flinches, but still doesn't wake up.

"Laika.. it's - fuck - it's me.. Ghost... Wake up..." - nothing. Just more thrashing around.

"Fuckin' hell" I grumble. I lower myself so that I am knelt on the floor in the doorway of the open cupboard. I grab her shoulders and shake. It's the only option I have, having tried everything else.

She snaps out of her nightmare with a shriek, slapping and scrabbling at my chest and face. "Fuck girl - it's me.. I'm - I'm tryin to fuckin' help you" - "DON'T TOUCH ME - GET AWAY" she yells at me.

I'd be lying if my heart didn't freeze over when she says that. Such fear in her voice. Fuck it. Only option left. I grab her around the waist and hold her in one arm, flinging her over my shoulder. She is crying and crashing my back with weak, panicked punches. I hardly feel it. Too numb from her words. I march her out of her room and down the hallway. "Pl-please - please don't" she cries. What the fuck did she think I was gonna do to her?!

I reach the door I was looking for and open in, storming in and dumping her on the bed. She clambers quickly away from me, over the limbs of my pack mates. John wakes up abruptly, instantly in defense mode. She flies towards him and clings to his torso as if she fitted there all too perfectly. She is sobbing now. John growls as he blinks away sleep.

"What the fuck, Simon. What've you done..?" He looks between the sobbing mess clung to him, and me. Great, my own fuckin' Alpha thinks I've 'done' something to her.

By now Johnny and Kyle had woken up too. They move to the space between myself and the girl. Were they creating a barrier?! Didn't they trust me..? Of course they don't. You're a monster.

I sigh, feeling broken, and turn to leave the room. Christ knows where to, but I needed to disappear for a while. I'm almost out of the room. I stop when I hear her. "Si-simon..?"

I don't turn. I just face the doorway, still intending to leave.

Then the Captain speaks up "Answer her, Simon.." I sigh again.

"What?" I snap over my shoulder at her. I see her flinch, "I'm - I'm sorry.." she whines "S'fine" I grunt back, still not turning to face her.

"What happened?" Johnny asks. I don't expect to feel his hand in mine, tugging me back toward the bed. "Get off Johnny" I shake his hand away from mine, but ever persistent, he grabs at my hand again. "Si - what happened?" he asks again.

"The girl was havin' a fuckin' nightmare. Heard her screaming from the kitchen. Didn't even wake up when I banged on the door. She was hiding in her fuckin' cupboard. Didn't even lock her door".

"So.. you helped her..?" Kyle asks hesitantly "what else was I 'sposed to do? Fuckin' let her scream the place down all night?" I snap back - ok fair, that was uncalled for. I have my own fair share of nightmares. Those in glass houses 'n all that bullshit....

"S-sorry.. I didn't mean-" - "I said s'fine" I grunt at her. She hides behind John's shoulder now. She's terrified of me.

"Y/N.. what do you want to do..?" Kyle asks her "Don't want to be a-alone again.." she whimpers back at him. He strokes her cheek. Why can't I be gentle like that?

"Alpha.. can - can she stay here for tonight..?" He asks John nervously. I forgot Johnny was still holding my hand, but he squeezes it excitedly when Kyle asks if she can stay.

"Y/N.. would you feel comfortable here..? I give you my word, we will not touch you.. not hurt you..it's your choice.."

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

"Y/N.. would you feel comfortable here..? I give you my word, we will not touch you.. not hurt you..it's your choice.." The captain asks me.. I sniffle into his shoulder. His bare shoulder. "Please.. please, if it's ok - ok with everyone.." I stutter and sniff. "Shhh sweetheart, it's ok.." John reassures me, rubbing my back softly.

He lays me down between him and Kyle. I glance towards Johnny and Ghost. Johnny has finally succeeded in dragging Ghost into the bed. He is as far away from me as he can possibly be on the massive bed. Johnny snuggles up to him and rests his head against Ghost's chest. I can almost see some of the tension leave Ghost's body. I look away and roll to face Kyle. He is already looking at me as I turn around. He smiles softly down at me and whispers "you ok, love?" I nod against the pillow. He motions towards himself and as my eyes meet his motioning hand, I notice that he is also shirtless. Do none of these men wear a shirt to bed?!

I furrow my brows at his gesture "C'mere love, snuggle up to me" he chuckles. "I don't want to be a burden" I sniffle, my face still red and puffy from all of the crying. "Never, now come here" he motions towards himself again. "Gaz.. behave" John warns from his position behind me. "Behaving, sir" - "Better fuckin' be" he grumbles back. His voice was extra gravelly at this time of night. I shuffle towards Kyle and he engulfs me in his arms. He is so warm.. His scent calms me down almost immediately. I push my head so it's resting atop his chest. He slots his chin over the top of my head.

I drift off to sleep, quicker than I had for years. The last thing I feel is a strong, hairy arm wrap around both of us and pull us slightly closer.

[hopefulromances]

Dude first of can I say I bloody love your writing second of all I just read that piece of reader and Jamie watching finding nemo and I had an idea. What if Jamie is watching when Harry met Sally for movie night with the team and it literally gives him the biggest mindblown lightbulb moment that he’s in love with the reader aka his best friend of over 10 years. The ending of it always makes me cry.

This is crazy did you read my other drabble where Jamie and reader watch when Harry Met Sally (I love that movie) But I LOVE THIS idea.

The boys filed into the rec room, the chairs already set up for the boys to be able to watch whatever movie Ted picked out for tonight. You were in there, finishing setting up the projector cause lord knows that if you didn't do it Ted would never be able to figure it out.

"And there!" You finished, throwing your hands up in success. "All you have to do is press play."

"Well, now, thank you (Y/N), you've been a big help," Ted grinned. "Alright now, folks! Let's file in, get your seat we're gonna get started soon!"

"(Y/N)!" Jamie called over to you. You looked over at him and smiled and Jamie's heart about stopped. Sure he was in love with you. You were brilliant. But it wasn't like he would ever say anything and ruin the friendship you had. "Over here."

"Sorry, Jamie, I got work to do, won't be able to stay tonight," you told him walking towards the door. "But I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

You walked out of the door. Some of the team pat him on the shoulder sympathetically as they walked by. Was it really that. obvious? How could you not see it?

Jamie elected to slump down next to Sam and Isaac instead, unable to keep the pout off his face.

"It is alright, Jamie," Sam comforted, nudging him. "She's just busy tonight."

"Yeah! Anyone with eyes can see she's into you," Isaac agreed.

"Thanks, lads, but I think it's hopeless," Jamie grumbled.

"Alright, greyhounds, now!" Ted clapped his hands getting the attention up at the front. "Tonight we're watching a movie about friendship, and love, and how friendship and love walk a very dangerous line. But all you need is that one push to spill your guts."

"Fucks sake," Jamie muttered, adjusting his seat.

"And without further ado, When Harry met Sally!" Ted scurried out from in front of the projector. Jamie rolled his eyes and settled in for another rom com that he didn't enjoy because all he could think about is (Y/N),

But what surprised him was how great the movie was. The writing, the flirting, it was all so comparable to his own life. By the end of it, he was leaning forward in his seat as Billy Crystal rushed down the streets of New York to find Meg Ryan.

"I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

Jamie felt him mind racing as he listened to that line. He thought about you and the butterflies that followed him around whenever you were near. The smile that lit up the room. The laugh that could save lives. He wanted to be with you and he wanted to be with you right now.

Just as the lights turned on, Jamie shot up out of his chair and raced out of the room. The rest of the boys cheered as he did.

Ted turned to Beard. "I reckon you owe me 10 pounds."

Meanwhile, Jamie was rushing to your room. When he arrived, he knocked fiercely on the door, not letting up until you opened it.

"Jamie? What on earth-"

"I love you," he blurted out. You eyes widened, trying to take in what he was saying. "I love you. Like I love the way you smile, I love the way you talk, I love the way you always seem to know what I want for lunch even though I don't know what I want for lunch."

"Jamie wha-"

"I love you," He repeated. "You know my hair dye brand, you know that I like the temperature in my house to be 18 degrees. Not 20, not 15, 18 degrees. I love you (Y/N)."

You were speechless. You couldn't form a thought into a word if you wanted to. You just looked back and forth between Jamie's eyes trying to decipher if this was a joke.

"(Y/N), I love you and when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you-"

"Want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible..." You finished the quote, smiling softly.

"I know this is sudden, and whatever, but I just... I need you to know."

"Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you kiss me now?"

"God, yes."

And he did. He kissed you. He kissed you quite a lot actually.

[mariacallous]

Griffin Dunne has just written a book. He had been meaning to do so for ages. It was one of the items on his bucket list: learn a musical instrument, master Spanish and write his damn memoir. “One down, two to go,” he says, beaming in via video link from his home in upstate New York. The actor and film-maker turns 69 this weekend. He reckons that still leaves him time for the music and Spanish.

Dunne imagined his memoir as a family portrait in the style of David Sedaris’s Me Talk Pretty One Day. He pictured something light on its toes, witty and poignant, a weave of essays and anecdotes. But then the book changed direction, as though it had a will of its own. It went where it wanted and needed to go. He says: “On some level, I knew there was this big subject ahead. And so, as I’m writing the book, I’m thinking: oh, OK, I know where this is going now.” The story leads to the scene of a 40-year-old crime. It revisits the death of Dunne’s younger sister, Dominique, and the grisly murder trial that followed.

I tell Dunne I really like the book, which sounds crass in the circumstances, but is true. While The Friday Afternoon Club is about the death of a loved one, it’s full of light, life and colour. It’s a startling tale of precarious American privilege, spotlighting a family that is blessed and cursed.

Dunne casts himself as the Hollywood prince at its centre, surrounded by famous faces, clamouring to be noticed. He tells how Sean Connery rescued him from the family swimming pool, how Billy Wilder critiqued his childhood pranks and how he roomed with Carrie Fisher before she went off to make Star Wars (“This movie is going to be a fucking disaster,” she said). Dunne was raised among storytellers (his dad and uncle were authors; Joan Didion was his aunt) and he writes with a loose, easy swagger. His memoir is tart, buoyant and playful right up to the moment it’s not.

In the early 1980s, when he was in his 20s, Dunne was hitting his stride as an actor. He had secured his breakout role in 1981’s An American Werewolf in London, playing the undead grad student Jack Goodman, doomed to haunt the adult cinemas of Soho. His 22-year-old sister was also faring well, having co-starred in 1982’s Poltergeist. But, on 30 October 1982, Dominique was strangled by her ex-boyfriend, John Sweeney, and died in hospital five days later. The trial, says Dunne, was outrageous, a farce. Implicitly, it seemed to put the Dunnes in the dock, framing the bereaved family members as frivolous dandies. Sweeney was convicted of manslaughter, but acquitted of murder. He served just three and a half years in prison.

Four decades on, Dunne’s account of events burns with rage. He is furious with the judge who intervened to block crucial evidence. He is furious with the killer’s employers (the Los Angeles restaurant Ma Maison), who stepped in to pay his legal fees. He is furious with Dominique’s then co-star, David Packer, who remained inside the house while Dominique was being attacked outside. “All the old anger got re-stoked,” he says. “I tapped right back into my vengeful side.”

During the trial, Dunne was approached by a mobster who offered to have Sweeney killed. He discussed the idea with his brother, Alex. “At that time, we would have been diagnosed as crazy people,” he says. “I told my brother that we had an opportunity to have the killer dealt with in the county jail. We decided not to kill him, but to mess him up, to have his hands smashed, like we were ordering pizza and choosing different toppings from the menu. And that was just the beginning of our madness; it carried right through. Even writing it down, I thought: I’ve got to let this go, because you can’t live in hate.”

In the end, they did nothing. Dominique’s killer changed his name after being released from prison and is likely still alive today. “I will neither forgive nor forget,” Dunne says. “But I’m not going to let that be the A-story of my sister’s life.”

Dominique was a victim, but that doesn’t make her life tragic. What is clear from the book is that people adored her. She comes across as whip-smart and droll, grounded and private. “She was a serious, substantial person,” he says. “Serious about her acting, her animals, her family. And, actually, rather intimidating, even though she was the youngest of the family.”

Dominique cared for their mother, Ellen, who had multiple sclerosis. She also cared for their father, Dominick, who was bisexual and closeted and yet confided in her. “So she was somebody we were all a bit in awe of. She was always wise beyond her years.”

She sounds like the family’s moral compass. “Yeah,” he says. “But also a bit bossy. She always knew what she wanted. My brother and I were a little fearful of her. It was like she’d been born already built.”

Dunne, by contrast, was a work in progress. In his memoir, he says that his first word was “taxi” and that he was always in a hurry – always running before he could walk. He was expelled from school for smoking pot. He was “coked to the gills” on the night Dominique was attacked. He was bumptious and entitled. His sister’s death changed him, he says, because how on earth could it not?

“For one thing, I never thought about domestic violence, the abuse of women. I grew up in Los Angeles and when I was in high school, pre-Roman Polanski, it was incredibly common for 13- or 14-year-old girls to be dating guys in their 30s. They’d go to these decadent parties in the hills and then come back and tell us all about it. And that was the culture; it felt exciting. I was unaware of what it meant. But then you have my sister, a 22-year-old girl, who finds herself in a domestic violence relationship with someone who’s twice her weight. So everything looked different to me afterwards.”

Perhaps it affected his career as well. In the mid-1980s, Dunne was on the threshold of stardom. He combined the charm and grace of a leading man with the prickly intelligence of a great character actor. The door kept swinging open, but he seemed to keep shutting it. He turned down The Fly and Sex, Lies, and Videotape in favour of making Who’s That Girl, with Madonna, and a reviled comedy, Me and Him, in which he played a yuppie architect who quarrels with his talking penis.

Dunne’s agent accused him of making “self-destructive choices”. He had always craved fame, only to find that it spooked him. “Too much attention at that time was a little fearsome for me,” he says. “I found it very stressful.” He hesitates. “And also my father,” he adds. “That had a lot to do with it, too.”

Dominick is the third main player in The Friday Afternoon Club, a high-flying producer who came to earth with a crash. He would eventually find his voice as a writer. He became Vanity Fair’s star reporter, first covering the Sweeney case, then the OJ Simpson and Claus von Bülow trials. But the in-between years were hard and humiliating. He suffered a reversal of fortune that took the whole family aback.

“I saw my father fail,” Dunne says. “I watched real failure in action in real time. He was a man who had a big house and a beautiful car and a great job and entertained the most famous actors and directors in the world. And everything was taken away from him, partly through his own actions, but nonetheless. People came out of the woodwork, kicked him when he was down.

“They were like: ‘I always hated you, I always knew you were closeted, you’ll never work again, pack your bags.’ And the effect it had on me, just entering the business as he was being destroyed in that business …” He draws a breath. “Well, it had a lot to do with the choices I made.”

In hindsight, the 1985 black comedy After Hours was his fork in the road. It’s also the picture with which he is most identified. Dunne developed the film as a co-producer and convinced Martin Scorsese to direct. He also took the lead role of repressed Paul Hackett, who embarks on a long, dark night of the soul through the streets of Lower Manhattan.

On set, Scorsese made one big stipulation. He ordered Dunne not to have sex for the duration of the shoot. I am gobsmacked by this, but the actor was unfazed. “It made perfect sense to me,” he says. “I knew what he meant. The character had to be boiling over with this unfulfilled anxiety. You had to see …” He pauses. “Not to be crude, but you had to see the semen build up to where it’s practically coming out of his eyes.”

One Saturday night, though, Dunne cracked and broke the rule. The next day of filming, Scorsese spotted the change and went berserk. “You’ve fucked up the whole picture,” he shouted. “I don’t think I can finish it now.”

Dunne says that he was probably being directed here, too. “Because now I’m afraid. I’m terrified. And it turns out that a certain level of fear is the same as not having sex. So [Scorsese’s] second piece of direction is telling me that I’ve ruined his movie. That’s excellent direction. It brought all the old anxiety back.”

It should have been a tough prospect, sitting down to write his book. Emotionally, because it meant revisiting the worst time of his life. Practically, because the Dunne family had already set the bar high. They are all dead now: his dad in 2009; his journalist-screenwriter uncle, John Gregory Dunne, in 2003; Joan Didion in 2021. But their reputations are daunting. It must have felt as though he were writing in the shadow of Mount Rushmore.

Dunne says it wasn’t that way at all. He had always assumed that writing a book would be a lonely endeavour. In fact, it felt warm, intimate and weirdly convivial. “I didn’t feel daunted, trying to write and being related to all these prominent figures. Quite the opposite. I felt their presence. When I described them, it was like I was seeing them again, living with them again. It was like I was back meeting Joan for the first time. It was as though I was spending time with her and John, my father and my sister,” he says. “They were alive to me. When I finished the book, that was the sad part. It felt like I missed them all over again.”

[icedjuiceboxes]

New dishonored au bc I'm insane okay:

Billie being DH1!Emily royal protector

So.

While heirs to the throne get to choose their royal protector at the age 11, Jessamine and Corvo decides to let Emily choose her a year early. Especially with Corvo about to take his trip across with the Isles to find aid for the plague.

Hiram Burrows overhears this. He drags Billie lurk into the Tower and fabricates all the documents that says shes been with the watch for some time. Well accomplished- even saved the high overseer Campbell's life at some point. It's perfect- bring in Daud's right hand man to do recon right at the source in plain sight.

Corvo and Jess are none the wiser- Corvo double checks Billie's background, but finds little to argue with when he has testimonials from Burrows and Campbell. She's not a bad match, young, full of energy. can keep up with Emily.

Emily was tempted to argue with the choice, especially since she didn't get to choose, and worse of all Burrows picked Billie- a man Emily hates with all the fury a ten y/o could muster. She was tempted- but excitement won over being petty. And it did helped Billie mindlessly made a comment about Burrows, throwing him under the bus in favor to win Emily over.

So that was it. Billie joined Emily's side, and by extension, the empress' side as well while Corvo traveled the isles.

Emily showed Billie all the best hiding spots in the Tower, and all the ways she sneaks away to get away from lessons. When Billie wasn't needed, she reported back to Daud, every little detail the young empress was so kind to share.

At some point Delilah meets with Billie, knowing what she plans to do. They can all get what they want. Billie just needs to bring Emily to her after the assassination.

Despite learning to enjoy Emily's company and the life the Tower brought, Billie went through with it.

That day. Corvo came back early. It didn't stop them though. It was going to happened. Billie stood with the three in the gazebo, watching the waterlock. Emily was the first to point out the approaching whalers.

When they appeared, Corvo was quick to draw his sword. Billie simply stood in front of Jess and Emily, it wasn't time to drop the facade. Corvo was a force to be reckoned with, he didn't need Billie's help regardless.

When Daud showed up though. It was over. Time to drop the act. Thomas held Corvo in the air. Daud came face to face with her, the Empress behind her and Emily hugging her legs.

She stepped aside, taking Emily with her. As Daud took Jess by her neck, Billie was just barely quick enough to cover Emily's eyes, she being frozen in a state of fear and shock. As Jessamine's body fell to the floor, Billie's hand slipped off Emily's face. Emily stared up at her, emotionless and barely just choked out "You lied." Emily was spared the sight, but she wasn't oblivious to the sounds to put together what conspired.

Billie barely just managed to transverse in time with Thomas and Daud as Emily said those words.

Billie was still in charge of Emily after she and the whalers returned to HQ. Emily fought Billie, and had punch hard enough to leave bruises, before breaking down and screaming and crying and pleading for answers on Billie's betrayal. And then she fell asleep, exhausted. Billie had a choice. She could hand over Emily to the Pendletons, and follow Burrows plan. Or hand her over to Delilah, who powers Billie been borrowing over the last few months.

In the dead of the night. Billie left with Emily for the Brigmore Manor.

Long story short Delilah was insane, and Billie had to get Emily out. She regretted choosing Delilah, not that the Pendletons was a much better choice. She was stuck in between a rock and a hard place.

So there was Billie Lurk alone with Emily. Ally to no one. Burned every bridge she had. The whalers. The coven. The royal family.

Emily had no choice but to go wherever Billie took her, up against the whole entire city of dunwal.

[cowboys-of-tombstone]

Fixing a Broken Fence (Curly Bill x Rancher!Reader) 3/4

°˖✧Ko-Fi 💖 Patreon✧˖° < Previous ☆ Next > ??? (Ch. 4 will be available on Patreon early!)

     All the way back to camp, Curly Bill felt the wind brush against his face. He felt lighter, serene, even. He chuckled at the thought of himself using the kinds of words Johnny would, but he couldn’t help but have a sense of clarity from how he felt. He wasn’t just happy, but he wouldn’t describe himself as overwhelmed with joy, rather, he felt at peace with himself. 

     That peace stayed with him even as he tied his horse up and headed back to his tent for the night. 

     His cot groaned stiffly as Bill laid upon it. His hands cupped the back of his head, gazing up at the tent’s ceiling. All that passed through his ears was the whistling of the trees and the occasional cough from Ike in the distance. Bill laid there for what felt like hours, just reliving the day he had with you. He didn’t even know when he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

     Thunderous galloping ripped Bill from his slumber. It was light out, but the day had not broken the horizon just yet. 

     Bill hopped out of his tent, yanking his legs through his jeans, to see what the commotion was. At the center of camp, a great red cloud billowed in, engulfing the small group of Cowboys that had gathered around it.

     As the dust settled, familiar forms emerged from the haze, dusting themselves off with wide smiles.

     “Billy!” Ike cawed, recognizing his brother’s gait.

     “Johnny?!” Bill perked up, rushing over to meet the rest of the crowd.

     Indeed, Johnny Ringo and his posse marched out of the haze, with his arms spread out, as if to embrace every member of the gang. Through his thick mustache, Johnny’s grin shined like ivory. Curly Bill and the surrounding Cowboys looked on, confused by Johnny’s unusually jovial demeanor. 

     “Gentlemen,” Johnny paused, “we found our way back into Mexico!” 

     The whole camp exploded into cheers and gunshots, Bill galloped to Johnny and embraced him with a tight bear hug. Barnes and Billy lifted Ike upon their shoulders and spun him around; the old Clanton howled, holding his crutches above his head like a king, his staff. 

     “How’d ya do it, Juanito? How did you get back in?” Curly Bill asked, firmly gripping Johnny’s shoulders.

     Johnny chortled with a deep breath, “It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure. Let me get something to drink first.”

     “You heard this man!” Bill roared with laughter, “Crack the kegs, pop the champagne, pull out the good stuff you was savin’! These boys are thirsty!”

     Soon, the whole camp had gathered around to hear Johnny’s tale. The very air began to stink of alcohol, as no bottle was spared from being opened. However, Curly Bill realized, a bit too late, that they should’ve had breakfast first. In hardly any time at all, the dehydrated, starving Johnny Ringo began to slur his words and slosh around his half-full bottle of whiskey.

     “...Next thing we know, a group of twenty, no, fifty Mexican soldiers sprang from the hilltops. I’ve never seen a sight like it, not since Mason County. Anyway, they came running down like a stampede. There’s no way that the half-dozen or so of us would’ve been able to make it past them without bein’ ripped to shreds. Thanks to Sherm, he spotted a bottle-neck with sharp corners that we hid behind. Those soldiers rode passed and never thought twice. From there we followed the trail back and here we are, in one piece!”

     Bill swished some cheap hooch around his tongue to burn off his cottonmouth. He spat it out and clicked his tongue, “And so you reckon that’s how we sneak in and out?”

     “The way they got that border wrapped up, it might be the only way. For now, at least.”   

     “Well, what’re we waiting for? I’ll bet just about every feller in camp is itchin’ for some action!” Bill jumped up from his seat, “How about we head out in a couple hours so that you and your lot get some quick shut eye?” 

     His second in command nodded, “Yeah, we saw a few close ranches. They’re not far from the trail.”

     “It’s settled then!” Bill commanded, shattering his bottle into the smoldering fire pit, “Everybody, get ready to head out by noon. Grab a bite, some shut eye, or hit the can, cause we’re leaving on the dot! Let’s go make some moolah!”

     The camp ignited a roaring fire to heat up a massive cauldron of stew. While Johnny and his scouting party fell into an unwakeable slumber, the remaining Cowboys oiled their weapons, filled their canteens, and fed their horses.

     Soon, their shadows disappeared as high noon approached. Though the heat dug into their shoulders, their eyes were gleaming with a hunger that food wouldn’t suffice. Like wolves, they gathered together again to split their pack into war parties, each one led by one of Johnny’s scouts. Even Bill took a step back so that Ringo himself could take the lead. 

     The red-sashed locusts rode out and followed the trail to the border. They passed the great river, and once they got on the Spanish soil, they went their separate ways, all with the prospect of riches on their mind. 

     They were on Bill’s mind too, of course. However, there was something else on his mind as well. While the other Cowboys dreamed of wasting their nights on gambling, booze, and other unscrupulous activities, Curly Bill had the sudden realization about how little he knew about you. What kind of gifts did you like? Were you the kind of girl who would like flowers? Or were you more into books and the like? What would you think would be a good night out? So many questions that he didn’t even realize he had until now, when you were far away from him.

     Bullets whistled out of their barrels. Skittish cattle bellowed in blind panic, following any horseman to guide them. Fire ascended from the burning pueblo in pillars of thick, woolish ash, and pained Spanish begged for retribution.

     All music to Curly Bill’s ears. And what’s more, was there was no sign of the Mexican military to slow them down. Only a thread of smoke was left in the star studded sky by the time Bill, Johnny, and the rest made it back on the other side of the border. When the other war parties joined back together with them, they all had several dozens of cattle between them all. 

     There were still several miles to go before they could find themselves back within Cochise County. With no sense of danger from their surroundings, just a flat plain with sparse tufts of bush and a shallow creek for the cattle, The Cowboys felt they were in the clear and set up camp for the night. 

     Because of how many men there were, a number of separate campfires were started, each with several Cowboys huddled around them. The smoke trails curiously spiraled into the heavens in a loose, yarn-like thread. Eventually, this twine disappeared amongst the stars who seemed to lightly tug at the smoke like fish nipping at a baited line.

     Curly Bill and his closest comrades exhaustedly chewed salty jerky and sipped pungent, bitter coffee. Though they had won the day, none felt like the victor with mixed nuts and dried fruit. 

     Barnes, who chewed his jerky with the same thoroughness as a cow with its cud, longed for a plate of real food.

     “Say, fellas, whatcha fixin’ to do when you get paid tomorrow? I am hankerin’ for some steak and eggs and a real frothy beer.” Barnes imagined as he tried to get his mind off the bland paste that accumulated in his cheek.

     Stilwell picked his teeth with his hunting knife, “I’ve been savin’ up to get my guns engraved. Maybe I’ll get them polished too, while I’m at it.”

     “Thinkin’ on buying a bath for Ike,” Billy Clanton thought as he spat into the dirt, “I think soaking his foot in the hot water will do him some good.”

     McMasters lightly ruffled his hair, “I think I found the one-”

     The whole campfire groaned. 

     “I’m serious this time! She’s the redhead from the Birdcage Theatre. She told me I was her favorite customer.”

     Indian Charlie perked up, “¡Ándale! She told me the same thing, Sherm!”

     The group’s eyes practically popped from their skulls as a mixture of gasps and howls erupted from them. Poor McMasters wilted like a desert flower.

     “What about you, Bill?” Johnny asked, after a drink of his coffee, “Got any plans yourself?”

     “Well, now that y’all mention it, I got a girl I got my eye on too.” Bill shrugged as he dragged from a smoke.

     “That’s right!” Stilwell snapped his fingers, “Is it true you’ve gone smitten on the girl that turned Ike’s toes to a batch of plums?”

     “Who’s goin’ around spreadin’ rumors like that?” Bill sneered with smoke flowing from his nostrils.

     “Uh, Ike did.”

     “Oh.” Bill clicked his tongue, “Reckon he’s still a little sore about it. But it’s true.”

     Johnny let out a short laugh, having just found out about your supposedly tumultuous affair with Bill.

     Barnes guffawed, “No way! She’s crazy!”

     “No she ain’t!” Curly Bill waved off Barnes. 

     Billy Clanton thought deeply as he rubbed his jaw, “What makes her so special, boss?”

     Curly Bill sighed deeply, “I get it, but the way I see it is that nobody died. And all Ike has to do is nurse off that foot. Hell, I’ll pay for a couple of baths myself too. But, truthfully, I don’t know why that girl is so special. Something about her eyes and the way she looked at me when we first met. I haven’t gotten the chance to get to know her at all, but I’m gonna once I get paid.”

     The group was silent for a moment. Yet, whistles and sounds of swooning swelled from them all into an overwhelming wave of laughter and kissing sounds.

     “Oh, shut the hell up! All of you!”

------------------

     A little bit more than a week went by since you last saw Curly Bill. The thought occurred to you as you swept your porch, one particular afternoon. You leaned against your broom and wiped away the sweat from your brow. Looking out to the far distance, you hoped, at any moment, you would see that familiar silhouette ride over the hills and down to your side.

     However, a whispering gust of wind brought you back to your senses. Afterall, why should you expect a fella like him to come back and commit to one girl? Not that you were hoping that he came back, but he was great company to have after being by yourself for so long. Bill was a handful, without a doubt, but it sure beat the next few days since he left, you admitted to yourself. 

     Having listened to your own ramblings enough, you finished your sweeping and headed inside. Your chores were finished for the moment, and you weren’t hankering for anything in particular. Really, you were just simply bored. Even your dog found entertainment chasing the calves amongst the herd, while you, on the other hand, plopped onto one of your handmade armchairs in order to ride out the wave of dullery. 

     Just before you planned to doze off, a rushing beat became louder and louder from outside. The noise came to a rasping halt as you scrambled out of your chair. But before you could reach for a window to see what the commotion was, there was a knock at your door. 

     “Who is it?” You asked.

     “It’s the sheriff! You’re under arrest for stealing my heart and resisting my charm!” An all too familiar gruff voice called from the other side.

     A smile was forced upon your lips, much to your chagrin, as you opened the door. 

     Curly Bill flicked his tongue, “Hey! Don’t open the door unless I got a warrant!” 

     “I’ll remember that next time you say some tomfoolery like that.” You tsked with one hand on your hip, “What brings you around, stranger?”

     “Oh, don’t be like that. Fella’s gotta find some way to make ends meet!” Bill reasoned while thumbing his nose.

     “Oh? And how’s that? What does a fine businessman, like yourself, do to earn his way?”

     “Well, just like you said, I’m a businessman. And I help the Clantons sell any cows they get their hands on. And they pay me handsomely so that I can bring a gift like this to you!”

     Out of his pocket, rested a little box that he gently placed in your hand. You opened it and a glint of light shined in your eyes. They were little earrings that could rest just on your earlobes alone. A stone of turquoise sat upon a simple gold base that was polished until reflective.

     “Oh my God, they’re beautiful! Hold on, let me see them in the mirror.” You gasped as you clenched them to your chest. 

     That devil smugly dusted his knuckles and tossed you an equally complacent glance. 

     Your smile puckered into a scowl with rosy cheeks, “Well, what’re you standin’ there with that look on your face for? Get in here!” 

     Curly Bill closed the door behind himself as you hurried to the decorative mirror that hung in your living room. The slight tremors from your excited fingers made it a bit difficult to get them on. However, once you got them into place and stepped back to look at yourself, your hand covered the smile that graced your lips.

     “These had to have cost you a fortune.” You muttered, turning your head from side to side.

     Curly Bill shook his head, “Nah, it was nothing. I originally wanted to get you some thick gold bars to dangle from your ears. But then, I saw those and thought that you could wear them anytime you liked, even when you’re busy working!” 

     You laid your hand on your collarbone, with a tightened throat.

     “That’s mighty kind of you,” You said softly, “for thinking about me in that way.” 

     Curly Bill sauntered slowly over to you and brushed a strand of hair away from your face, “I can’t help it when you’re all I think about.”

     You reached out and felt his abrasive fingertips, your eyes entranced with his, and your words caught in your throat.

     “I…” You managed to say, “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

     “Is that so? Missed me that much, huh?” Bill’s toothy grin returned.

     Glancing to the side, you admitted, “I would’ve appreciated some company, yeah.”

     Bill leaned in, “Well, let me give you all the company you need.”

     The Cowboy drew closer to you, his eyes sparkling with desire. He had wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you gently towards him. You felt his warm breath on your face and his lips hovering over yours. No doubt he wanted to kiss you, and part of you wanted to kiss him back. But you also knew that he was a dangerous man, one who could easily break your heart. Even then, you still hardly knew him, by any metric.

     You swiveled your head to the side and gave him a light peck on the cheek. Smiling sweetly, you looked into his eyes.

     “Easy there, Beau,” you said softly. “We’re not there yet. But, I meant it when I said I missed you.”

     You saw a flash of disappointment in Bill’s eyes, but he quickly masked it with a charming grin. 

     He kissed your cheek in return and whispered in your ear, “Sorry there, Darlin’. Didn’t mean to rush you. You were just so irresistible, I couldn’t help myself.”

     You hugged him tightly, taking in the coarseness of his shirt. When you let him go, you pointed him to a chair, “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable, while I get us something to drink. You look famished.”

     Lumbering over to the wooden seat, Bill plopped down with a thud. He leaned back, balancing himself on the chair’s two rear legs.

     “S’pose I am a bit parched. Whatcha got?” He inhaled sharply.

     The cupboards had everything, from jam, to oils, and pickled produce; and all were lightly covered in dust, waiting for a rainy day. There, waiting in the back, was a stoneware bottle. A relief of an apple and two stalks of wheat decorated its surface, and two handles to carry it with.

     “I don’t have anything too harsh, but would you like a drink of apple cider?” You asked, reaching for the heavy jug.

     “Dessert before dinner, huh? Y’know, I haven’t had cider since I was an ankle biter. Yeah, I’ll take a cup.” Bill licked his lips.

     Into two cups you poured the bubbling golden liquid. It had been a while since you had enjoyed cider yourself, and took an early swig. It was tart and the bitterness of the drink burned your tongue with a sanitizing hiss.

     A wheezing cough escaped your lungs, “Ahem! It’s a bit strong for my tastes. I think a scoop of sugar and cinnamon will do it some good, would you like some for yours?” 

     Bill shook his head, “I don’t know, I think I might want to try it as it is!”

     Your lips tighten and you squinted with repulsion, “Ugh, are you sure? It’s pretty bitter.”

     “Yeah! I like when my drinks put hair on my chest.” Bill said proudly. 

     With a defeated shrug, you quickly mixed your drinks and brought them over to your living room. Bill raised his cup to you with a nod and took a foamy sip. He smacked his lips, took another sip, peered one eye into his cup and muttered, “Did you give me your drink by accident?”

     “Of course not!” You answered boisterously, and then you paused. You were sure you passed him the right cup, and yet now you had to double check. So you pressed your lips to the mouth of the cup and drank.

     It was a warm, sweet experience, reminiscent of a bowl of fresh apple pie. The heat ran down your throat, soothing it all the way down. 

     “Wait a minute, what’re you talking about? Are you telling me that’s too sweet for you?” You asked with disbelief, pointing to his cup.

     Bill shrugged, “I was talking about how tame it was. Hopin’ it would burn on the way down, with the way you reacted. But…”

     “You’re crazy! You could wash rust off with that!”

     Bill laughed, reveling in your amazement. It was charming, seeing someone who didn’t live the kind of life where feats of bravado were tested regularly, and to see the astoundment of something trivial to him, not be so with you.

     “Thanks for the drink, though.” Bill continued. “It’s, uh, a breath of fresh air!”

     You giggled, “You’re too kind. Maybe I’ll save up for some good whiskey next time I’m in town.”

     “No worries, you don’t have to, on my account. I’m already getting used to this.” Bill insisted, quickly swallowing another watery drink.

     You shook your head while you too indulged in your sugary beverage. Though, as you settled into your thoughts, one emerged from the back of your mind.

     “So,” You asked, rubbing a circle into the coarse hair of your armchair, “how did your job go?”

     The sun-tanned Cowboy rubbed his chin with caution, “It went… about as well as it could have. Why do ya ask?”

     Your finger tapped your lip, “Well, I guess I ask, because I was wondering what would bring you to keep coming back to that kind of work?”

     Bill sighed, “Don’t judge me too harshly, Miss. It’s just what I do. A fella like me ought to use what he’s good at and get paid well for it. Don’t ya think?”

     “But don’t you ever get scared? Like you might not make it out in one piece?”

     “Once in a while, sure.” He nodded, “But it’s what I’m made for and I have some fun while at it too!”

     Distant barking gave you pause. However, it quickly turned back to playful growling and mooing, allowing for your attention to turn back to Bill.

     You tilted your head to the side, “How can you have fun doing something like that?”

     Bill shifted his eyes to the side under a heavy squint. His teeth lightly bit his bottom lip, “Huh, I don’t think I ever really thought about it. But since you asked, I reckon it’s because fellas like me are used to it.”

     “But, how? How could anybody get used to it?”

     Bill began to stare off, remembering a time before The Cowboys. He smirked kindly, “I guess your folks did you well, then.”

     You furrowed your brow with deep contemplation. Just what was going on in his mind?

     Suddenly, he shook his head, releasing himself from his thoughts, “I gotta ask, did your old man tell you about the Civil War?”

     “Huh,” You thought, “I don’t think he ever did, now that you mention it. How’d you know he served?”

     “Just a lucky guess, I suppose.” He shrugged jovially. “You’re a fine lady with a good head on your shoulders, old enough to run this farm on your own. I reckoned then, that your old man would’ve seen it. Anyway, I can see he’s a good man for not telling you.”

     “Why’s that?” You asked, garnering more questions than answers.

     “The things we saw in those fields, in those hills, what happened to the good men that were lost in the mud, all fighting for something they believed in, will change a man in a way you mix two colors of paint. Once they’re mixed, they can never be unmixed. Some men can be the color your old man was, tainted, but otherwise able to return to their old lives. Some of us turn out a bit too different from where we began, and so we accept our lot and keep doing what we’re good at.”

     “Is that why you took the night we met so lightly?” You asked with more concern than you wished to let on.

     Bill rolled his eyes, half expecting the conversation to lead to that. “The way I see it is this: No one died, and the worse thing to happen to anybody, is my friend havin’ to be drunk for a couple of weeks cause his foot hurts. But I’m paying for his doctor bill and his brother’s paying for his ‘medication,’ so there ain’t no harm done.”

     Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. Sure, it made sense why Bill and his like are the way they are, but how could he not see how he affected others? How he affected you?

     “Sure,” you coughed hoarsely, “I get it.” You struggled to swallow your apprehension along with your cider. Although it felt like a stone was forced down your throat, you were able to get it down. With your painted on smile, it seemed Bill was also put at ease.

     The Cowboy spun his cider within his cup, letting out a short chuckle, “Hey, uh thanks for not judging too harshly. I know that ain’t easy.”

     A hesitant nod rattled from your head. The carefree attitude he held with himself was both admirable and daunting. As much as you attempted to accept his explanation, there remained a prodding in the back of your mind. Hopefully, you thought, it would subside in due time.

     The many adornments of your home were a constant catch to the Cowboy’s eye, more so that day, than his previous visits. The walls were adorned with taxidermy and various framed watercolor paintings.

     The heads of deer and pronghorn did not sit as trophies, a few were hardly impressive in that way. Yet, their necks curved in ways as if they were frozen in time, in a single moment, rather than stuffed.

     Nothing helped bring about that moment more than the watercolor paintings. Each one laced with black ink and vivid colors revealing landscapes that Bill could recall seeing himself, but never with quite the same beauty.

     “Nice decorations.” Bill managed to utter, “I can almost tell which of your folks chose what around here.”

     “Actually,” You laughed shortly, “they made ‘em! But you are right about one thing, they definitely had their own tastes.”

     Bill’s eyes widened, “Oh, they made these?”

     You leaned back and crossed your arms pridefully, “Yep! Just about did everything with their own two hands.”

     “So I’m guessing these are all of your old man’s trophies?” 

     “I guess in a way they are.” You thought aloud, “He once told me, during the war, he saw this beautiful horse riding into battle. It was a life changing moment, but later he found it killed. It broke his heart seeing that creature like that, and would’ve rather have had it live on in some sort of way. So he took up taxidermy as a hobby just in case he wanted to preserve such a moment again.”

     “After shootin’ the deer himself?” Curly Bill asked with a brow raised.

     You shrugged playfully, “It’s free meat and leather. All it takes is one good bullet and some free time.”

     “I guess a fella’s gotta feed his family somehow. What about your mom? What kind of scars was she carrying?”

     You waved away the thought, “No, no, no. Nothing like that at all. She just loved to paint, always had since she was knee high. These were some of the last ones she painted before she got sick. Her best ones, in my opinion.” 

     Bill carefully stared into the paintings. The pen strokes implied a shaky hand, carefully attempting to outline vegetation and mountain faces with strict intent. However the wobbling lines allowed for nature to be implied, such as the gnarled surface of tree bark or broken stone. This was juxtaposed by the soft watercolor that messily flowed in and out of the outlines. Many times, the colors were blended together and yet, never felt muddied or accidental. Truly, they were one of a kind, and not meant to be replicated like printing pressed pictures.

     Bill hummed, “Ever thought about paintin’ like your Ma?”

     “Sure did!” You chirped, “Got real into it a few years back, I thought I got pretty good at it too.”

     Coyote’s playfully yowled in the distance with a pair of rock doves seemingly joining in with soft cooing.

     Your smile shrank to one side, “But, uh… that’s when my Pa started needing more help around the farm. I thought I could get back to it eventually, but I suppose I never did. It doesn’t feel like I got any time, I guess.”

     Curly Bill scratched his scalp, “Well, why don’t you make time? That’s what I always do when I wanna do something.”

     “That sounds mighty nice,” You noted sarcastically, “but in case you’ve forgotten, I got a whole farm I need to run! I can’t just leave and go do whatever I want, there’s always something to be done around here. If it ain’t broken, I gotta feed it, or clean up after it. And by the end of the day, I’m exhausted and want to relax. Not to mention, I got handsome thieves comin’ around trying to steal what’s mine!”

     Your compliment burned him like chewing on cinnamon, endearingly warm to the palette, but searing to the tongue. However, it got him thinking.

     “Hmm, well, what if this handsome thief, you speak of, had brought some help so that you could take a day off?” Curly Bill asked smugly while rubbing his chin. 

     “We’ll see about that.” You shrugged with a coy grin. But as you looked over at the Cowboy, you too began to ponder him and his story. “What about you, Bill? What were your folks like?” You asked as you leaned your head onto your palm.

     Bill quickly chugged the last of his cider, and with a sharp sigh, he muttered, “You don’t wanna know.”

     The stilted response had almost knocked over you and your chair. No witty response, no quip, it was very unlike what you’ve come to know of him. Of course, it was his own way of politely asking for privacy. However, for such an open book as Bill, to suddenly close himself off as quickly as he did, it caused your curiosity to ring like a church bell.

     “Well that hardly seems fair,” You commented softly, sliding the pitcher of cider closer to him, “you know pretty much everything about me and my folks now, and I’d like to know more about you.”

     Crickets cautiously tuned their instruments with the sun’s steady departure. Bill stared at the pitcher with contempt. It was rare for the Cowboy to find himself left open to vulnerability, what was worse was that it was on a subject he held closer to him than any other secret. 

     He sucked air between his teeth and snatched the pitcher off the table. In one last moment of regret, you quickly raised your hand, “I-I’m sorry, Bill. I was just teasing, you don’t have to tell me anything too personal, until you’re-”

     “No, it’s alright.” Bill began while pouring more cider, “It’s just that, I don’t think I ever talked to anybody about this.” He stared into his bubbling drink, almost transfixed by the disappearing froth. “I reckon it’s ‘cause I never wanted to think about it.”

     “What do you mean?” You leaned in closer.

     Curly Bill wiped his nose with contemplation, “Well, uh, where do I even start? I mean, I don’t recall ever having a mother; and my Pa, well, he liked me ‘bout as much as I liked him. And I didn’t.”

     The Cowboy gulped down the cider like a fish did water and poured himself another glass full.

     He continued, “Ol’ Man Clanton was always tough on his boys, but I think it’s ‘cause the geezer didn’t know better. Kind of making due with what he had, you know? 

     “But my Pa? He was sharper than an arrowhead, and could shoot through you twice as fast. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he took every chance he could to make me feel like I couldn’t measure up to be his son.”

     You shook your head, “Ugh, how terrible! What did he do? Did he hit you?”

     Bill shot you a crooked glance, then chuckled, “Well, yeah he did. But I usually deserved it. No, what he did felt worse than a sore keister.” 

     Before the Cowboy could explain himself, you quickly reached for the pitcher of cider. The warm, sugary drink felt like a protective campfire from the sudden chill of Bill’s tale.

     When you lifted the pitcher, however, there was hardly enough to fill your cup halfway. Maybe the cider was weak for his palette after all?

     “You know what?” Bill noted as he smacked his tongue, “I’m so used to all that coffin varnish they call whiskey back in town. But I reckon this grew on me. Maybe I’ll get a cask for myself.”

     A small smile perked the corners of your lips. You had almost forgotten what he was trying to distract himself from. 

     “But back to what I was sayin’,” The red devil sighed, “yeah, my ol’ man beat me. But it was for the usual things, breaking something or stealin’ one of his smokes. That’s fine, but there was never a ‘job well done,’ or a ‘I’m proud of you.’

     “There was this one time, where I stayed up all night takin’ care of his prized heifer for the county fair. I groomed it, I brushed it, I went and shaved down her hooves, I damned near got in there and brushed her teeth for her! All because I wanted our cow to get the blue ribbon. And we did. Now granted, that heifer was from award winning stock, already, but I knew I played my part. 

     “But when it was all over, and I told him what I had done, not a single pat on the back, a handshake, not even a nod. All he said to me was, ‘Well son, that’s what you’re supposed to do.’ And that was my entire life with that man. Never a moment of pride nor gratitude for me. He was always above all of it.”

     The wind whistled from underneath your door as the room fell into silence. Rasping from Bill’s thick calluses against your mug hissed like a feather in your ear. He looked down, but it was as if he was looking at his reflection in an imaginary pond. He exhaled lightly and his contemplative expression seemed somber, gloomy even.

     Then his brow furrowed, and his mouth contorted and twisted into a snarled smile. Guffaws erupted from his belly. He threw back his head and placed his palm over his eyes.

     “After I came back from serving in the war, that gray jackass stayed exactly the same. So, I left!” The Cowboy flicked his tongue with the grin of a diamondback. “And I took what I deserved. Done rustled about a third of that bastard’s five thousand cows with me!”

     Your jaw fell to the floor, “You didn’t!”

     “Single handedly.”

     “But weren’t you worried they were gonna catch you? I mean, you’re just one man with this huge herd of cattle. How did you even get away with it?”

     “Believe me, after riding with that lot for a full day, I started to wonder the same thing. But somehow I did, and I made it to some reservation. San Carlos, I think it was. But the best part was selling the whole herd to them Indians there for a new horse and a couple of dollars. Never knew what happened to ‘em all, guess I never really cared enough to find out.”

     By that point, the coyote garbed in red had released himself from his mental chains, and sat back in his chair with a pompous grin. And all you could think, by that point, was how much of a… free-spirit he was! However, you thought to yourself, perhaps if you had an upbringing like Bill, you’d eat the devil with the horns on, too. 

     Pouring the remains of the pitcher into your cup, you raised your drink to him with a chuckle, “I suppose that’s a toast to a fresh start, huh?”

     Bill leaned over and gently clinked his mug with yours, “Amen to that! And cheers for hearing me out. I’m starting to feel like I can tell you anything!”

     “Oh,” You softly remarked with your hand on your chest, “I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you.”

     Bill nodded contently, but the conversation began to lull. He appeared to enjoy the quiet. You, on the other hand, reached over to the pitcher again. The toast had gone down softly and emptied your cup, leaving it thirsty for more. However, the pitcher was hollow and left you feeling peckish for another drink.

     “Hm,” You hummed, while rhythmically tapping your fingers together. 

     “What is it?” Bill sniffed loudly.

     You inhaled sharply, “I’m feeling pretty good right now. But, I’m thinkin’ maybe I could go for a couple more drinks.”

     Bill clapped his hands thunderously, then rubbed them together with a little too much enthusiasm, “Now we’re talkin’! Where do ya keep the good stuff?”

     Your eyes floated to the loft upstairs that had now been blanketed in a gentle darkness.

     “Give me one second, I’ll be right back.” You noted out the side of your mouth. 

     With a lit candle, you made your way up the rickety, groaning stairs. Animals frozen in time watched you unjudgingly as you carefully tiptoed to the loft’s entrance. 

     Long roughly cut rafts ran across the ceiling at angles that made the room seem almost triangular in shape. Hanging from the ceiling-walls were a Great Blue Heron and a green headed Mallard. Their wings were spread in orbit around a saber and a wide brimmed calvary hat. The gold of both relics of the past faintly glowed from your candle’s reflection.  

     The far end of the loft was hardly visible, but was home to a sturdy dresser and a stuffed beaver that sat upon it. But midway through, sat two beds. Each was composed of a heavy wooden frame and adorned with thick quilts of flowery design. Both had their own chests that sat at the feet of the beds, but you were interested in the one further from the entrance. 

     You kneeled down to the chest and set the candle to the side. Upon opening the heavy lid, it released its breath into your face with the stinking fumes of old varnish. But inside was a messy pile of treasure and old letters to friends and family long forgotten. 

     As you rummaged through the bottom of the old, sour-smelling chest, you found what you were looking for. Two casks of whiskey were laying side-by-side, with one already opened and half drank.

     You sighed with a gentle smile, “Still workin’ on that one, Pa? How about I take that old bottle and you can keep the fresh one to yourself.”

     Softly and gingerly you raised the whiskey from the chest and closed the lid. A sigh of relief rushed out of your lips and blood flushed through your ears. Quickly, you picked up the candle, and hurried downstairs. 

     “Did ya say something to me up there?” Bill called as you trotted down the steps.

     “Sorry, I was talking to myself while looking for this!” You chirped, eagerly presenting the bottle with a playful jingle. 

     The Cowboy slapped his knee and snarled, “That’s what I’m talkin’ about! I need a sip of that!”

     “Hold your horses, I’m getting there!” You bit your lip, ripping the cork off the top with a satisfying, bloomp! 

     The fumes from the noxious liquid burned the insides of your nose. Your eyes also felt the sting of sterilization, even as you kept yourself away from it. Bill, on the other hand, breathed so deeply it was as if he were smelling a patch of roses.

     His fingers crawled towards his cup, and with a strangulating grip, he seized it and began to drink. Air was sucked in between his teeth and was released with a satisfied ‘ahh!’ 

     “You know,” Bill licked his lips, already pouring another cup, “That cider wasn’t too bad. But boy howdy! This is perfect, it’s like I’m drinking a cup of melted scrap iron!”

     Your nose scrunched, not with disgust, but with morbid curiosity. The bronze colored drink vaguely reflected your appalled expression as you peered into it. 

     And so you took a sip.

     Much to Bill’s description, the alcohol ripped into your tongue like a vengeful jalapeño, searing every surface of your mouth on the way down. You gulped much to your body’s dismay. Your ears began to ring and your face became flushed, as if you were holding your breath the entire time.

     “Thatta girl!” Curly Bill pounded the table. 

     You wheezed, while clearing your throat, “Thanks, for what that’s worth.”

     “Whatcha think, do ya like it?”

     The edges of your lips tightened, “Hmm, liked it, huh? I reckon I didn’t.” You grimaced, much to Bill’s delight as he let out a hoarse guffaw. 

     Your lip smacked with embarrassment, “I’m not trying to be a party pooper, dammit!”

     “Party pooper? Who said anything about that?” Bill tilted his head curiously. 

     “You know, ‘cause I can’t drink like you?...” You muttered realizing the extent of your panic. Bill simply smiled as he leaned his head upon his hand. His cheeks were softened and his gaze was not piercing.

     “You’re real cute, you know that?” He chuckled softly.

     A soft red glow emanated from your face and neck. Incoherent stammering sprang from your mouth with intent on saying something, but after a short ramble, you simply stopped and continued to collect red in your cheeks. The more you tried to hide your embarrassment, the more it showed. And the more it showed, the more Bill seemed to smile.

     “W-well, anyway; I can’t drink this as it is. I gotta go fix it up, I’ll be right back.” You uttered, spinning around and heading for the kitchen. You could’ve sworn you heard Bill chuckle under his breath.

     Back in the kitchen you began kicking yourself internally. You loathed how childish you felt in the moment. You were never one to feel shy around potential suitors, even the ones who were obnoxiously bold. So why was he, of all people, able to reduce you to a babbling mess? You felt like a mouse being played by a cat.

     Patting your cheeks, you blew out a puff of air, then continued on with what you were looking for.

     ‘Maybe,’ You thought to yourself, ‘my nerves won’t be so shot once I get a little juiced.’ 

     With such a bitter drink, however, you knew that sugar wasn’t gonna cut it alone. Quickly glancing around, you wondered how you were going to keep yourself from getting heartburn from the noxious drink. Thankfully, a jar of peach jam caught your attention. 

     ‘Oh, thank the Lord.’ you sighed with relief.

     With a pop of the lid, you began shoveling the syrup covered peaches into your whiskey. After a quick spin of your spoon, you gave your concoction a taste test. Still bitter, but much better than before. You took your cup and the jar, knowing you’ll be needing more of it.

     “Well, Hell’s bells! Had to go sweeten up your drink, again, huh? What happened, was the sugar not enough for ya?” Curly Bill snickered as he shamelessly poured another cup.

     “Well not all of us can guzzle watered-down shoe polish! Some of us like to actually enjoy the things we put in ourselves.” You puffed, throwing yourself back into your armchair. 

     Bill nodded while still glancing around at the peculiar ornamentation of stuffed animals, “I’m glad we can drink this together then.”

     There he went again, you thought as you smirked with a hand covering your mouth. Curly Bill was like biting into a freshly made pie, scalding with his banterous words, and yet, almost on the turn of a dime, saying something so sweet. You waved him away, even though it seemed like he saw through you.

     The Cowboy reached around to scratch his own back while pondering aloud, “So, what do you do for fun around here, anyway? You’re still quite a ways away from anywhere reasonably enternainin’, right? I know my boy, Johnny’s getting cute with this one girl from town. She’s a bookworm and a half like him though. Is that what you do?”  

     “Yeah, I read on occasion. Wouldn’t call myself a bookworm though.” You shrugged, “Really, if I’m not reading, I either take a walk around my property, or I play fetch with my dog, Rocky, out there.” 

     The silence of the sudden end to your list surprised you. Curly Bill glancing at you from the edge of his eyes only served to woefully confirm what you were already thinking. 

     “I, uh… Huh.” You mumbled, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so boring, heh.”

     “No! No, that sounds like a, er-” Bill squinted one eye in thought, “Like a time and a half right there!”

     “Oh, shut up.” You laughed out loud. However, when you finally started quieting down, you began to really think about it. 

     “It wasn’t always this way, you know.” You bit your lip. “When he, my father, was still around, I didn’t have to worry about everything so much. I could actually go into town and window shop without thinking of the time. We’d go camping every so often, or even go horseback riding when he wanted to have venison. All the way until he just couldn’t anymore. Then I couldn’t either.” 

     You realized how much you were missing out by keeping your parent’s legacy alive. It seemed you yearned for just a bit of adventure, but weren’t willing to pay the price for it.

     You poured the biting peach concoction passed your lips, perhaps more than you wanted, but gulped it all down nonetheless. What felt like steam escaped from your chest as a feeling of calm washed over you. Leaning one arm against the rest of your armchair, you admit to Bill, “I guess if you want to know what I reallywant to do, I just wanna let loose for once. Have a hot meal I didn’t need to make myself, or get me one of those fancier drinks. But, I’d really like to go see one of those theatrical shows at The Birdcage, at least once, just to see what it’s like!”

     Perhaps your own enthusiasm caught you off guard. You shrunk back in your chair, unsure what Bill would think of your idyllic adventure. Surely a cowboy, who has lived enough for several lifetimes for you, would find such a night to be trivial in what could only be considered ‘just another night’ for him.

     He rose from his seat and sauntered towards you with his hands in his pockets. When he reached your side of the room, he took your hand in his and pulled you from your chair. The sudden force of his strength was like that of a horse suddenly pulling you along at full gallop. You blinked, and when you opened your eyes, you were in his arms. The rough cotton of his shirt rubbed against your face abrasively, and yet it felt warm and comforting. He led you in a slow two step dance with gentle sways and spins. All the while saying softly in your ear, “What if we went together, just you and me? We can dance the night away, drink and eat ‘til your heart’s content.” 

     His muscular hands bent you backwards as if in the climax of an exotic dance. Using his thumb, he gently brushed away the few strands of hair that fell upon your face before caressing your cheek softly. 

     “And then, we could head somewhere nice and quiet, and…” Bill trailed off as he drew you closer, never breaking eye contact. He could smell the sweet marmalade in your breath as you two almost brought your lips together. 

     A building pressure expanded in your chest. Heat had gotten stuck behind your heart in your throat and was on the verge of setting you ablaze. You wanted to kiss him back, but flashes of the past, what he had almost done, still kept you from fulfilling your desire.

     You put a pair of fingers between the two of your lips keeping them from making contact. Bill pulled back with a furrowed brow, not entirely sure if he had taken your first kiss or not.

     “I’m sorry,” You sighed softly, “I’m just…”

     “Just not ready, huh?” Bill muttered with a half smile.

     A slight chuckle escaped your lips, “Would you be, if you were me?”

     “Well…” Bill trailed off again as he straightened the two of you back to your feet. Whether he was unwilling or unable to answer, you weren’t sure.

     The both of you took a moment to adjust yourselves to an awkward silence. Unwilling to live a moment further in the embarrassing miasma, Curly Bill approached you with his thumbs through his belt, sheepishly saying, “Sorry about the… uh, well you know.” 

     You smiled warmly, “Thanks for dropping by, it means more than you know.”

     The Cowboy nodded unsatisfactorily, but he held his head proudly as he made his way towards the door. 

     He jiggled the door handle and strolled out onto the dry dirt. The crumbling soil crunched underneath his heel as he dug into it. You, on the other hand, stayed just behind the door frame, watching him gather his thoughts.

     “So, can I,” Bill inhaled sharply, facing away from you, “Can I come see you again?”

     You rested your hand against the frame and chuckled, “Of course you can.”

     The charming thief’s shoulders straightened and suddenly, he spun around with a wide grin that was barely held together within his mustache. He took off his hat and held it to his chest, “Then, until next time, Miss.”

     Bill lowered himself into an exaggerated bow before making his leave. As that red devil became enshrouded by the night you gave him a quiet, gentle wave and closed the door. 

     You bit your lips together as you cleaned the cups and put away the alcohol. A smirk kept swelling up from within you as you thought back to the various moments of enjoyment throughout the night. Even as you looked at the quarter-full bottle of whiskey one more time before returning it to its chest, you thought about how close you two were in that moment. How much you wanted to kiss him back, and shuddered when you pushed him away. 

     “Ugh, real smooth, girl.” You tsked.

     Meanwhile, Bill had made his way up the lonely hill. He looked back and saw the last candlelight in your home disappear, so too did his smile. Rubbing the back of his neck, he untied his horse from the tree, taking one last longing glance at your cottage. 

     “Damn.” He hissed, “Did I mess up?”

[tomhiddleston]

One More Tomorrow (Billy Taylor x Fem!Reader) - Chapter I.

Summary: When a new guest checks in to The Halcyon, Billy looks for any excuse he can to get close to her.

Pairing: Billy Taylor x Fem!Reader (third person)

TW: pure unadulterated fluff, Billy being an idiot with a crush, some light swearing, this fic is basically a romantic comedy

Word Count: 5k+

A/N: I haven't written fic in ages so I hope you all enjoy my Billy Taylor brainrot!!! This is part one of a three-part miniseries I have planned... with potentially more to come if people want more? !!! Also, we're all gonna have to make peace with the fact that our nameless young lady has a surname, lol

Also, thanks to @valeskafics and @aegonx for reading this through for me!!!

Disclaimer: I do not own any The Halcyon characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are always appreciated!

Art deco dividers by @saradika

Billy will always remember the first time he set foot in the lobby of The Halcyon. He’d come to work with his mum more than a handful of times over the years, especially when he was little. But, in those days, the only glimpse he got of what went on upstairs at the hotel was the silver serving trays that the waiters carried as they walked past his mum’s office. Seeing the lobby - the heart of the hotel - for the first time was like stepping into a different world. 

That was almost a year ago, now. Barely sixteen, with trembling fingers tugging at the high collar of his bellboy’s jacket. It was brand new and freshly pressed, so it had a stiffness to it that he wasn’t used to from the hand-me-downs that he usually got from his father. 

He followed Feldman up from the bowels of the hotel and through the door that had always been forbidden to him. What lay on the other side was something he could have only dreamt of. Towering columns carved from emerald green marble, glittering chandeliers, doorways trimmed with a rich, dark wood. The sweet smell of fresh flowers permeated the air. He wondered how it was possible for it to smell so strongly of flowers in a room so large. He reckoned his family’s entire house could fit inside the lobby four times over. 

The Halcyon was the most beautiful thing Billy had ever seen.

Until the day he sees her.

May 1939.

His morning starts as it usually does. Quick cup of tea in the hotel kitchen. Dodge a kiss on the cheek from mum. Check on the hotel generator. Head upstairs to begin bringing down the luggage of the guests who are checking out. 

The dreary, painfully normal morning eventually turns into a rainy May afternoon. Billy’s shoes eventually become so waterlogged from escorting guests inside with an umbrella that he can feel his socks squeak against the leather with every step. He’s whinging about it to one of the doormen when Mr. Garland comes parading through the lobby towards the front doors with Mr. Feldman in toe. And if The Halcyon’s general manager and head concierge are preparing to greet a guest, then they must be someone important.

“Come on, then, Billy!” Feldman calls to him. “Fetch the umbrellas.”

Billy deflates a little, knowing that there’s little hope of his shoes drying any time soon. Still, he’s dutiful as ever and meets the other men at the front door with the still-damp umbrellas tucked under his arm. 

“Is his Lordship back in town?” Billy asks Feldman curiously. 

“No, Billy,” Mr. Garland answers instead. “It’s a new guest and one that we’re eager to impress. Mr. Tobias Greene, of Greene Automotive.”

Billy’s face lights up. “Greene Automotive? Oh, they’ve got the fastest cars on the market. Their new Model F’s got an eight-cylinder engine. Three hundred twenty horse power! It’s got a top speed of two hundred kilometers… an hour…” His voice trails off as he sees the look on Mr. Garland’s face. “What’s he coming here for? Their factory’s all the way in Birmingham.” 

Mr. Garland peers outside, looking for the arrival of their new guest’s car. “Something about setting up a corporate office here in London, I think. But it’s best not to pry, Billy. You know that. And please, no gushing to Mr. Greene about his cars.”

Billy nods and Feldman laughs at the disappointed look on the boy’s face. 

Mr. Greene’s car arrives at a very punctual three o’clock on the dot and the men step outside into the pouring rain to greet their new guest. Feldman is the one to open Mr. Greene’s door. Out steps a tall, dark-haired man with a thick mustache and shrewd brown eyes. The handshake he offers to Mr. Garland is firm but friendly. Billy can’t help but be a bit starstruck. 

“Come along, my dear,” Mr. Greene calls into the open car door. “Don’t make your father wait in the rain.”

A corgi jumps out of the car and into a puddle on the sidewalk, splashing water up the front of Billy’s grey trousers. Great. He barely has time to groan about it before he looks up and sees her. Mr. Greene’s daughter steps out of the car with the dog’s leash in her hand. It’s lucky that Billy is standing close enough that she is covered by the umbrella he’s holding because he’s frozen solid at the sight of her.  

If he was starstruck seeing her father, then he’s completely bowled over by her. She’s dressed in a beautiful fur-lined coat and has her hair done up in those curls that all the ladies are doing these days. Not a single strand is out of place. She looks like she’s just stepped off the set of a new picture or out of the pages of one of those magazines his mum reads. 

Her eyes meet his and it’s like he’s been struck by lightning. He wonders for a moment if his heart’s stopped beating. He sees her lips move but doesn’t hear what she says. How could he, when he’s so transfixed on her beauty? Plenty of good-looking women have walked through the lobby of The Halcyon, but not a single one of them could ever compare to her. 

Billy comes crashing down to earth again as the sound of the car door closing breaks him out of his trance. He’s not supposed to talk to the guests. Greeting them is Mr. Garland’s job. But he can’t help but squeak out a nervous “Welcome, my lady.”

She smiles in response and he melts. 

“Thank you.” Her voice is warm and sweet. Prettier than any melody. The little chuckle that leaves her is even lovelier. “But I’m no lady.”

Billy stumbles over his words, knowing that he’s mucked it up. His eyes widen and both hands move to grip onto the handle of the umbrella. “Y-yes, miss.” 

They all make it barely halfway to the front doors of the Halcyon when she turns to the car with a gasp. “Oh… my gloves. I left them in the car…” Her tone is pensive, more like she’s making a mental note not to forget them later than anything. 

But Billy, desperate to please her, springs into action without so much as a word. He’s at the car door in three long strides, only realizing that he’s left her standing in the torrential rain, umbrella-less, when Feldman snaps his name from atop the hotel steps. When he turns back, her suede gloves in hand, he sees her huddling for cover beneath the umbrella that Feldman is holding for her father.

He can almost feel the daggers in both Feldman and Mr. Garland’s eyes pierce through him, but then he sees the smile that creeps onto her lips. She’s drenched, the fur on her coat matted against her shoulders and her perfect hairdo ruined. But she’s smiling. 

When her lips part in a laugh, Billy knows he’s done for. Even if it’s him she’s laughing at, for being such a bloody twit, she’s laughing and he gets to hear it. If it was the only sound he ever heard for the rest of his life, then he would die a happy man.

Mr. Greene is not as charmed by Billy’s foolishness as his daughter, raising an outstretched hand for him to hand over the gloves and let them get inside. Billy can’t look the man in the eye as he places her gloves in his hand, but he does manage a small, sideways glance at her and sees that she’s gone all pink in the face. Just like him, he reckons. 

The Greenes are put up in separate but adjoining rooms on the second floor. Billy watches as Mr. Garland ushers them up the marble staircase. Feldman gives him an earful for what happened outside, but all he can think about is being the one to bring her luggage to her room. To see her again, maybe even talk to her.

He very nearly pushes the other bellboys over as they begin to bring the Greenes’ luggage inside. Despite their obvious wealth, they’ve traveled lightly in comparison to many of the other guests the Halcyon receives. Billy counts her suitcases. Only four. He can manage four on his own, can’t he? 

Feldman pinches the bridge of his nose at the sight of Billy, two large suitcases tucked awkwardly under each arm, lumbering up the stairs and nearly taking out one of the guests along the way. 

When he makes it to the room that she’ll be staying in, he has to scoot sideways through the open door to even make it inside. He’s huffing and puffing from the exertion but manages not to drop the luggage. As he sets them down gently, he looks up and sees her. She’s removed her drenched coat and is standing in the doorway to the bathroom, toweling off strands of her wet hair. There’s a warm glow around her from the sconce on the wall that makes her seem almost luminescent. 

He should say something… or leave now that he’s brought her suitcases. But he just stands to his full height and tugs at the bottom of his bellboy’s jacket to straighten it out again. They are both staring at each other all the while, her with that same, pretty smile as before. 

But to her, the wide-eyed look on his face must make him seem like a startled owl. 

“Thank you,” she finally says, breaking the silence. “Billy… wasn’t it?” 

His name. She said his name. It’s the best his name’s ever sounded. 

Billy swallows hard, his throat painfully dry, and nods. 

“Thank you, Billy.”

He can’t leave yet. Not until he’s managed to say something to her. Not until he’s apologized for having left her to get rained on, at least. A million things he could say seem to run through his brain all at once. Everything he wants to say becomes jumbled in the chaos. The words seem to bloom and die on his tongue in an instant. 

What he eventually decides on is something to the effect of, “I’m sorry I left you in the rain, miss.”

But what actually comes out of his mouth?

“I’m sorry–”

He turns on his heel to run out of the room before she can formulate a reply of her own.

Billy remains on edge every second of every shift after their first interaction. He’s restless at his post by the front doors of the hotel, fingers tapping on the back of his hand so incessantly that Feldman eventually asks him if he’s unwell. He cobbles together an excuse, saying that he’s just eager for a smoke break. But Feldman can see the way he longingly watches the staircase, hoping and praying to see her again. 

He’s so intent at his post that he forgets more than once to take a guest’s hat or coat when they enter, leaving the doorman, Skinner, to awkwardly step in for him. He gets a proper slagging off from Feldman after he leaves one of the hotel’s most valued guests standing at the door waiting for their coat. 

But none of that matters whenever he sees her. She seems to glide down the staircase whenever she emerges from her room, never a hair or a thread out of place. The beauty of The Halcyon’s lobby pales in comparison to her. No, she somehow makes the room look even lovelier, like there is a light radiating off of her that makes everything in her vicinity more exquisite. 

If she’s walking to the hotel’s restaurant, he’s there to open the door for her. If she’s heading out of the front doors, he’s there with her coat and hat. Each time, he relishes in the sight of her cheeks flushing pink and her eyes getting that little twinkle in them that makes his heart flutter. Hearing the little “thank you” that she mutters each time only makes him fall harder.

“One look from a pretty bird and he’s become a total melt,” Tom, one of the hotel waiters and Billy’s closest work mate, teases him during the staff’s weekly game of poker. 

Feldman spurts out a scoff. “A melt? Boy’s lost his bloody mind, he has. Couldn’t even tell you which way’s up and which way’s down when he’s thinking about… her.” He leans in close to Billy, saying the last word in a sing-songy kind of tone.

Billy attempts to hide the redness in his face behind his cards.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, mate,” says Tom. “She’s an heiress and a guest. Best forget about her. Find a girl you might actually be worthy of.” He laughs it off as a joke, but Billy isn’t smiling. 

It hits a nerve, that remark. Billy knows he’s not the brightest. Never excelled in school. He only got his job here at The Halcyon because of his mum. He may only be sixteen, but he’s peered into his future once or twice and lamented about the fact that he might always be stuck working here until he’s old and gray like Skinner, still taking coats and hauling luggage up and down the stairs. There are few prospects for men like him beyond jobs like these. How could he ever be a suitable match for a girl like her?

Dejected, Billy folds his hand and rises from the apple crate he’s sitting on, not even bothering to collect the cigarettes he’s planned on using as his stake before he starts walking away with his head hung low.

“Oi, Billy!” Tom calls after him, abandoning his own hand to follow him. “Mate, I didn’t mean it. I was only teasing.”

“Doesn’t mean you ain’t right, Tom.”

Tom walks a little quicker to get in front of Billy and stop him in the long hallway between the stairs and the kitchen. “Okay, look.” He lowers his voice. “You wanna see her again? She takes her tea in her room at two o’clock every afternoon. Yeah?”

“Yeah?” Billy echoes, shrugging. “What, and ask Feldman if I can take a late lunch to have tea with her?”

“No, you dolt.” Tom sighs. “You could be the one to bring her her tea every day. You know, get in the door. Strike up a little conversation.” He nudges Billy’s arm. “Get in a cheeky kiss.”

Billy’s eyes widen. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about it… what it’d be like to kiss her. He’s never kissed a girl before. If she could be his first… oh, the idea alone is enough to make him weak in the knees. 

“But it’s… not my job, Tom. Feldman–”

“Leave Feldman to me. I’ll sneak him one of those custard tarts he likes from the kitchens. He won’t be able to say no.”

Finally, a smile tugs at Billy’s lips.

“Look,” Tom continues. “I’m sorry about what I said. She’d be lucky to have you, Billy.” He begins to walk down the hall to rejoin the poker game, but has to tease Billy a little more. “Just promise to make me best man at your wedding, mate!”

The rattle of porcelain fills the hallway leading to room two-hundred four. Why Mr. Garland had to put Mr. Greene and his daughter in rooms at the end of the hall, Billy will never know. The usually short walk now seems like a marathon’s length as he fights to balance the delicate tray of fine china. He dropped a teacup not long after he started working at The Halcyon and still hears about it from the kitchen staff. If he dropped this tray, he would never survive it.

Billy has bitten down on his bottom lip in concentration, his usually long strides short and uneven. The clattering of the fine china only grows louder the closer he gets to her door, his hands trembling an unacceptable amount. He can carry the heaviest, most cumbersome luggage and now he can’t handle a simple tray of tea? He thanks God that no one else is in the hallway at the moment to see him struggling.

He comes face to face with her door and stares at it for a moment. He’s certain that she will be able to see his heart pounding against his chest from underneath his bellboy’s jacket. Standing there, he begins to work himself up into a frenzy. He doesn’t know if he can do it. Better to turn back now and let Tom deliver her tea as always.

It’s as though he hears Tom’s voice in his head.

Billy, you idiot. It’s just a door.

Yeah, a door with the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen on the other side. He wonders how she’s spent her day so far. Brushing and styling that long, silky hair that he wishes he could run his fingers through. Reading books. Maybe Jane Austen or one of those other books that girls like. Curled up on the chaise with her little dog by her feet. It’s not the type of day that sounds appealing to him, but he’d sit by her side all the while if she wanted him to.

Billy snaps out of his daydream, realizing that he is still staring at the dark mahogany door with the gold two zero four on it. He swallows hard and decides to go for it. It’s quite the balancing act, getting one hand free to rap on the door without dropping the silver tray. He stands on one leg and lifts the other to prop it up on his thigh, quickly knocking twice on the door - but not before he sees a trickle of tea spill from underneath the teapot lid and onto the pristine tray. 

“Oh, bugger.” 

He only just manages to regain control over the tea tray when the lock clicks and the door swings open. It’s clear that she was expecting to see Tom by the look on her face - first, a flash of confusion, and then, a little smile and a blush. She’s rouged her lips today, making them look even fuller than usual. It complements the navy blue silk blouse she’s wearing and somehow makes her face seem even more aglow. Then he’s hit with the warm, flowery smell of her perfume and he lets it fill his lungs. Whatever it is, it suits her. 

Say something, Billy. Bloody hell.

He glances down at the tray and back up at her, seeing that she hasn’t taken her eyes off of him. He swallows again, trying to regain even a semblance of composure. He’s trying to come up with a reason as to why he, a bellboy, is there delivering her tea and not Tom or one of the other waiters, but she speaks first.

“Tom’s busy today?” 

Oh, that voice of hers. He could melt. 

But instead, he offers a little “Mmhmm.”

That’s a better explanation than he would have probably come up with, anyway. 

“Come in. Please.”

She turns to walk with him to the sitting room where she takes her tea by the window and he follows her like a lost puppy, tea tray rattling all the way there. He manages to spill more of the liquid onto the tray on the way there and curses internally. He sucks in his lips in concentration, but the tray still comes clattering to the table. One of the cucumber finger sandwiches tumbles into the puddle of tea below and the clotted cream slides out of its bowl.

“Oh… sorry, miss,” Billy mutters, knowing he’s ruined the presentation of the tray and, likely, spilled half of the tea that she was meant to drink. That’s the second time he’s apologized to her in the span of a few days for doing something stupid. Feldman would wring his neck.

Any other wealthy, well-to-do guest would have snapped at him, cursed at him, called him clumsy and stupid. But she smiles up at him, her eyes glittering more than all The Halcyon’s chandeliers combined. It’s only now that Billy notices just how close they are. Almost as close as couples get when they dance. His mind wanders again, wondering if she enjoys dancing. 

“It’s alright, Billy.” Her voice brings her back into the moment. Heaven above… she remembers his name. She plucks the finger sandwich out of the spilled tea it’s sitting in and tries a small bite, offering him a little smile. “I think it tastes better this way.”

He’s staring at her like a deer in the headlights again, but he somehow manages to nod and smile. “Oh. G… good.” 

Her own grin widens and she leans down to pour herself a cuppa. He knows he should go, but he’s somehow glued to the spot. He watches her every movement, from the way her hand delicately grasps the teapot handle to the way her brow furrows in concentration as she adds milk to her cup.

“You don’t talk much, do you, Billy?” 

“Erm…” He straightens the front of his jacket nervously, feeling the heat in his cheeks. A breathy laugh leaves him. “I dunno.”

His mum would be in stitches if she were here right now. He’s been chewed out more than a few times for talking her ear off when she’s busy cooking or cleaning. You’re going to drive me mad one of these days, Billy, she’d say. To see him completely clammed up around this girl would throw her for a loop.

“I understand. My dad’s not a big talker, either. So I talk to Clara.” She turns to where her corgi is asleep in her plush bed by the fire and smiles. “She’s a good listener.” 

“Yeah…” He follows her gaze, grateful that the little dog isn’t awake to bark at him. “Bet she is.”

“Do you have any pets, Billy?”

He blinks a few times. She wants to know something about him? The blush in his cheeks only deepens.

“Uhm, no… mum’s allergic.”

A look of sympathy flashes across her face. “Oh. That’s bad luck. Well, you’re welcome to say hello to Clara and pet her if you want. She’s such a sweet girl. She loves people.”

Billy glances at the dog again. She isn’t the one he’d like to spend time with. “Yeah. Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” she asks hopefully. His heart jumps.

“Oh, I just– you know. If… Tom’s busy again.” 

Her smile warms him. “I’m sure he’s always busy. Not that you aren’t, too,” she laughs. “I just mean that… you’re welcome to bring my tea again… if you want.”

Billy is stunned into silence again, and right after he’s finally managed to string together more than two words at once. They mirror one another, both wringing their hands together nervously. The air between them feels heavy with unspoken words, but theirs isn’t an uncomfortable silence.  

“Of course, miss,” Billy finally manages. He watches her take a sip from the glistening white teacup and delights in the little hum of pleasure that leaves her.

“If you have work to do, then… I won’t keep you, Billy.” She speaks almost hesitantly, like she’d rather be asking him to stay. “I’d hate for you to get in trouble because of me…”  

She’s right. He has a lot to do before his work day ends and Feldman wouldn’t take too kindly to him neglecting his duties. But he’d give anything to stay here with her.  

“Yeah, I’d better… go.” He sounds unsure, something she clearly notices judging by the way she smiles. 

“Thank you for bringing me my tea, Billy. See you later?” The enthusiastic way in which she asks her question makes it sound like they’re friends who are set to meet up again tomorrow… or maybe that she sees him as, potentially, something more. 

No, he has to tell himself. She doesn’t mean it like that. Not at all. She can’t. Not him, the bellboy. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get his hopes up.

“See you later, miss.”

His eyes flit to her lips briefly, hoping she hasn’t noticed before he hurries out of the room and nearly slams the door behind him. He all but floats down the hotel staircase, wearing a stupidly wide grin on his face. 

At the end of his shift, he’s downstairs by the staff lockers being grilled by Tom about everything that happened that afternoon. Billy can barely give any specifics about the interaction itself because he keeps devolving into thoughts of the way her hair curled at the base of her neck and how delicate her fingers looked as she poured herself tea. At some point, Tom decides he’s a lost cause and leaves him to his daydreaming.

Feldman wanders in to collect his things and sees Billy leaning against the lockers there, clutching his bellboy’s hat to his chest. As far as he’s concerned, the sooner this girl checks out of the hotel, the better. It’ll sort him out and get him back to functioning properly.

“I think I’m in love with her,” Billy says over his shoulder with a dreamy sort of look in his eyes.

“You haven’t said ten words to her, Billy.” 

“I have too!” But he starts hurriedly counting on his fingers… just to be sure. 

“Saying ‘yes, miss’ and ‘no, miss’ a handful of times each doesn’t count, lad.”

Billy blushes. “Well, I—” 

Feldman’s laugh only makes his face redder. “I reckon you’ll want to keep bringing her tea so you can stare at her some more, eh?”

“W-well, Tom said he’ll be too busy again and—”

“Yeah, busy having a smoke break.”

Billy can find no clever reply or excuse, so he just looks down at the bellboy’s cap that he has been idly turning over and over again in his hands.

“Look, Billy. If I’m gonna keep allowing you to slip away for tea time with this girl when you should be helping me check in guests, then you have to swear to me that you’ll man up–” Feldman hits him square in the middle of the chest with the back of his hand. “–and hold at least one bloody conversation with her before she and her father leave on Sunday. Yes?” 

“Yes, sir.”

Feldman takes him by the shoulders and gives him a little jostle. Someone’s got to shake some sense into this boy. “Yes?”

“Oi…” Billy furrows his brow and recoils. “Yes. Feldman, I will. Promise.” 

The rest of the Greenes’ stay at The Halcyon passes far too quickly for Billy’s liking. He does manage to hold true to his promise to Feldman and strikes up a conversation with her about her dog on the final day he brings her tea. Of course, Feldman never said that it had to be a long conversation. Billy found himself clamming up again in the end, but he still left her room feeling like he’d accomplished an insurmountable feat. 

He’s back to his uncharacteristically quiet demeanor today, though. Part of it is his own sadness that she will be leaving the hotel today and part of it is that her father has been flitting between their two rooms all morning. Something tells him that Mr. Greene wouldn’t be too pleased about a bellboy staring a little too long at his daughter. 

As the last trolley of luggage is wheeled out by another one of the bellboys, Billy waits for her to finish putting a leash on her dog. He glances around the room, now empty of her personal effects, and feels his heart sink. The room already seems less lovely in the absence of her. 

“That’s the last of your luggage… miss.” He knows he sounds too dejected when she looks at him with a little crease between her eyebrows.

“Thank you, Billy.” Her voice is as soft and as sweet as ever, but he’s far too heartbroken at the thought of her checking out of the hotel and probably never returning to enjoy it. She’ll forget all about him when she returns to her father’s estate and her fancy parties and her rich, handsome suitors. He’s feeling so sorry for himself that the purpose of her next request is lost on him.

“Billy, would you… help me with Clara? These shoes are brand new, and… I would hate to slip on the stairs if she decides to pull on the lead…” 

He’s seen her go up and down the stairs with the little dog plenty of times. Why should she need his help now? But he acquiesces and holds a hand out to take the lead from her.

“Course, miss.”

They leave her room together in silence. He notices that she keeps attempting to catch his gaze, even offering a couple of crooked smiles, but he’s walking under a raincloud the entire way through the lobby. 

“You know, Billy,” she finally says in her usual chipper tone. “I was thinking… my seventeenth birthday’s this fall. Maybe I can see if my father will let me have my party here. Do many people celebrate birthdays at The Halcyon?”

Billy completely misses her question after he hears the words “this fall” and “have my party here.” Fall isn’t that far away if he really thinks about it. He doesn’t care when or how, only that she’s already thought about returning to the hotel. She wants to come back.  

“Wh– you mean it?” 

He catches her beautiful, red-lipped smile and feels his heart flutter again. 

“Of course I do. I’ve enjoyed staying here and–” She blushes. “–getting to meet you.” When he stares at her, too taken aback to reply, she chuckles and continues. “You’ll still be here in November… won’t you?”

“Y-yeah,” Billy breathes. “Long as Feldman doesn’t sack me or nothing.”

She laughs again and takes Clara’s lead from him. “Then… I’ll see you again soon.”

“See you…”

Billy’s voice trails off and he takes a step back from her as her father approaches with Mr. Garland in toe. Mr. Greene places a short kiss on the top of his daughter’s head before the two of them step out into the gray Sunday morning. Billy cranes his neck to catch one last glimpse of her as she climbs into the car after her dog, catching a smile from her before the door closes. 

November can’t come soon enough.

[27dragons]

New Year Countdown: Dec 6

CRAP, I forgot to post this yesterday!!! And I was particularly excited about this one because it's a Sandbridge callback! (I randomly rolled "Restaurant AU" and couldn't not do it!)

If you haven't read the Sandbridge AU before, first of all, I'm not sure why you even follow me. And second of all, you probably do need to know before clicking through that Tony and Bucky have 2 daughters in that series, Billie and Livvy.

Dec 6 - Winteriron - Restaurant AU - Sleigh

Bucky was whistling “Jingle Bells” under his breath as he turned his truck into Dockside’s parking lot. Christmas was just around the corner, Billie was home from school on holiday break, Dockside was enjoying a brief surge of business as local families decided it was easier to eat out than cook for their holiday visitors, and he’d actually managed to finish all his holiday shopping before the mad rush of Christmas Eve, for a change.

He looked around to make sure neither his husband nor his daughters were immediately present, then unlocked the toolbox on the side of his truck and pulled out his last few packages, bustling them into the garage before anyone could appear. Even Livvy knew that he hid everything in there, under the old stack of inflatable pools that probably didn’t fully inflate anymore, but none of them would peek.

“Papa!” Speaking of the devil... Bucky ducked out of the garage before Livvy made her way around the corner of the building.

“Hi there, Briar Rose,” he said, reaching out to ruffle the preteen’s hair. “What’s cookin’?”

“Uncle Steve is,” she said, grinning, but grabbed his arm and pulled. “Come on, down to the beach!”

Bucky followed along gamely, though he’d need to get into the kitchen to help with prep soon. “Why? What’s going on?”

Livvy giggled and let go, running ahead of him.

As soon as Bucky cleared the corner, he saw what Livvy was so wound up about. Tied up at the dock that gave the restaurant its name was a smallish motorboat. That by itself was not too unusual, though this particular dock wasn’t really the ideal location for it, being more of a pier for fishing than a true dock.

But someone -- and Bucky was laying money on his husband -- had somehow decked the boat out to look like Santa’s sleigh, the side panels situated so the “runners” of the sleigh skimmed just about at water level. It was an elaborate illusion, including dozens if not hundreds of lights and a platform above the motor that was piled high with what Bucky fervently hoped were fake presents, lest any of them topple overboard. A couple of the presents featured Dockside’s logo prominently; Bucky suspected that Steve had helped with that paint job. Billie and Nat were in the boat with Tony, helping with something, while Livvy danced excitedly at the end of the dock.

Laughing, Bucky ambled down the beach and out onto the dock, arriving at the end just as Tony clambered up the rope ladder that was hung there. Bucky reached down to help Tony up and pulled him into a kiss that they might have prolonged somewhat just because Livvy was clearly so impatient for them to stop.

“So this is your top-secret project,” Bucky said when he finally had to take a breath. “Santa’s going by water this year?”

“Not a lot of chimneys in Sandbridge,” Tony pointed out, his eyes sparkling. “But lots of boat slips.”

“There’s a parade!” Livvy announced. “On the 23rd! We’re definitely going to win!”

Bucky raised his eyebrows as he helped Nat and then Billie up onto the dock. “A parade?”

“Yes,” Nat said firmly. “We may not win, but I think we will make a good showing.”

“It’s a nice sleigh,” Bucky agreed, eyeing the boat. “But I reckon I might miss the reindeer.”

Nat traded grins with Billie.

“A water sleigh doesn’t need flying reindeer, Uncle Bucky,” Billie said. “It needs flying fish.”

“That’s what all the presents on the back are for,” Tony put in. “After we get our fish attached to the front, we’ll add ballast to the presents to counterbalance them. Thank god the parade won’t go at more than five knots the whole way, or our whole boat would probably sink.”

“Send me the details on this parade,” Bucky told them as they headed back up the dock toward the beach. “I’ll get Victoria to sub for me so I can come watch and cheer you on.”

“Great!” Billie enthused. “That means I can ride with the boat instead of staying on shore with the bug.”

Livvy pushed her way between Bucky and Tony, “And then we can all go out for ice cream after!”

“This is required,” Nat announced before Bucky could respond. “If we win, we must have ice cream to celebrate. And if we do not win, then ice cream shall console us.”

Bucky laughed and put his arms around Billie and Livvy, tucking one hand into Tony’s back pocket for good measure. “It’s a date.”

[qnewsau]

Tom Daley drops one last Speedo video before Olympics ends

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/tom-daley-drops-one-last-speedo-video-before-olympics-ends/

Tom Daley drops one last Speedo video before Olympics ends

The Paris Olympics Closing Ceremony wrapped this morning but overnight, British diver Tom Daley has squeezed in one last Speedo thirst trap, getting his diving friends in on it too.

The out Olympian put up the video after teaching himself, his diving partner Noah Williams and fellow Brits Jack Laugher, Kyle Kothari, Jordan Houlden, and Anthony Harding the viral dance moves to Charli XCX’s Brat track Apple.

All six of the athletes wore speedos and shoes as they filmed on a rooftop before they went to the closing ceremony in Paris.

“BRAT Summer Olympics ,” Tom wrote.

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“How did you get them to agree to this?” one follower asked Tom.

“I already miss the Olympics,” another person said.

Helpfully, Tom tagged all of the Olympians who joined him in the video. They’re all below:

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  A post shared by Tom Daley (@tomdaley)

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  A post shared by Noah Williams (@noah_w9)

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  A post shared by Jack Laugher MBE (@jacklaugher)

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A post shared by Kyle Kothari (@kylekothari)

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Tom Daley won silver in Paris

The Paris Olympics closing ceremony wrapped up early this morning (AEST). Actor Tom Cruise and American musicians including Billie Eilish performed as Paris handed the Olympics over to the next host city, Los Angeles. They’ll host in 2028, before the Olympics comes to Brisbane in 2032.

Earlier, Tom Daley and his diving partner Noah celebrated winning the silver in the men’s synchronized 10-meter diving.

Tom won his first gold medal at the Tokyo Olympics in 2021, and took a long break after his triumph.

The British superstar athlete said he returned to the sport because of his family, specifically his six-year-old son Robbie.

“Robbie was like, ‘Papa, I want to see you dive in the Olympics’. And that was that,” Tom told BBC Sport.

“When your kid asks you to do something, you do it.”

More on the Paris Olympics:

Adele reckons Aussie Raygun was ‘best thing at the Olympics’

Olympic pole vaulter’s bulge costs him a medal in Paris

Tom Daley models jumper he’s been knitting poolside

Tom knitted diving partner Noah Williams a ‘c**k sock’

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

[valhallaas]

Sweet Like Honey

Benny Miller x fem!reader

Warning: smut(18+, minors dni) fingering, p in v, creampie (use a condom please)

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: You and Benny are two peas in a pod

A/N: I listened to Honey by Halsey while writing this. Anyway. Here it is friends! My first Benny fic! I hope you all like it. I love Garrett and this was VERY self indulgent. As always, feedback is very much welcome, and enjoy!

It’s been a long night. Friday night and you’re slammed. People are bleeding in after the fight, a victory for the local Miller boy. You lose track of time, serving as quickly as you can. The crowd is thicker, live performances are lined up–including yourself. You dabble with a mic and your guitar from time to time. Nothing serious. Billy, the bar owner, uses your pretty face and talent as a mule ticket for the younger crowd. You don’t mind so much.

What you do mind, is the guy who doesn’t know how to take a simple no as an answer. He presses on you as you walk past him, hand lingering on your waist. Your elbow hits his gut, but somehow it only encourages him. It’s the same guy who’s on your ass every night that Benny isn’t there. Your goddamn guard dog, he spits in your ear, grip too tight on your arm. It’s nothing you can’t handle, a real pain in the ass is all he is. Benny doesn’t know–Benny can’t know, because it would not end well.

A familiar whistle catches your attention. You lift your hand in acknowledgement when you see Frankie and Santiago walk to the back booth. Your eyes scan the bar for the Millers, a frown forming when you realize they’re missing.

Benny Miller had come into your life like a hurricane, a potential apocalypse, a force to be reckoned with. He’s hard to miss. Tall and broad with eyes that could drown you. Not that you’d mind. Not when they’re accompanied by a smile so bright it’d save you from the depths of hell. He’s just built that way.

Every Friday night he’s there at the bar, waiting on you to take his order for him and the guys. It’s an order you remember quickly. Grabbing their drinks you head to the table.

“Where’s Benny?”

“Relax,” Santiago says, grabbing his beer. “Will’s stitching him up.”

“I thought he won?”

“He did. Doesn’t mean he didn’t get hit once or twice.”

Your frown deepens. But then—

It hits ten, and it’s your time to shine. Casual wolf whistles echo around the bar as you make your way to the stage. You’re handed your guitar and slowly step onto the stage. You move to the mic. “Good evening, how’s everybody doing tonight?” The crowd cheers and you laugh, shaking your head. “I’m going to sing some songs for you, if that’s alright?” When the cheers from the crowd die down the second time, you strum a tune, a small giggle spilling from you. “Good, that’s good. Because you don’t really have a choice. Let’s go!”

The lights are blinding, but you can feel Benny’s eyes on you. You know him in darkness, and probably even in death. It brings you comfort to know he’s finally here and he’s watching. You breathe in and relax. A small smile teases your lips, your fingers moving over the strings. The crowd loves you. A ten minute set that feels like an hour. You’re sweating by the time you walk off the stage. All you want is a cool glass of water and Benny. Your eyes track him as he follows closely behind his brother and the others. He towers over everyone, his eyes searching. When Benny’s gaze finds you, he gives you a knowing grin and a wink.

You weren’t paying attention, you ran face first into the guy. He’s drunk enough that the smell of him makes you gag. Unfamiliar hands grab your shoulders, fingers digging into you. It makes your skin crawl.

“I knew you’d come around babydoll,” He slurs, lips pressed to your neck, hand coming forward to grab at your chest.

“What the fuck,” You can hear shouting behind you, the sound of glass breaking.

You know, you can feel it. He’s waiting for you, he’s holding on to that rage that rushed him the moment this fucking guy touched you. If Benny’s got a short fuse, yours is even shorter. As soon as Benny reaches you, your hand is already flying towards the drunkard’s face. Blood gushes everywhere, you smile, knowing you broke his nose.

“You fucking bitch!”

Just as quickly, you’re yanked back right out of his grip, a large body blocking your view. “Hands off the goods,” You shout venomously as you stumble, Will and Santi at your back, holding you when you hear the telltale crack of fist against bone, a body tumbling backwards onto the floor.

“Pay, tip, and get the fuck out.” Benny’s voice is ran through gravel, and fuck if it doesn’t scream dangerous. “You touch her, even fucking think of her name, or come back to this bar again, my face will be the last thing you ever see.”

And you’d hate to admit that it does something to you, that low voice and the blood on his knuckles and the way he stands in front of you.

***

When Benny makes it back to the table, you’re pulling your hand from Will’s grasp only for him to snatch it up. Your knuckles are slightly bruised. It was a solid hit.

“Who taught you how to throw a punch like that?”

You bite down on your smile, tugging your lip between your teeth. He’s doing nothing to hide the pride in his voice. Slowly, you take him in from top to bottom, gaze lingering only for a second at the quick stitch job on his right eyebrow.

“Mmm. A rowdy patron.”

“Must have taken a liking to him.”

You grin, pulling him closer to you by his belt loops. “Something like that.”

A hand wraps lightly around your throat, Benny grins at the sparkle in your eye. His voice drops lower, making heat throb in between your legs. “You think Billy would get mad if we fucked in the bathroom again?”

“Yeah, probably. Won’t get mad if I ride you in the backseat of your truck, though.”

“God dammit, honey. You can’t just say things like that.”

“Come on, Miller,” you whisper, taking a step away from him. “Bet you can make me cry on your cock.”

“Jesus,” he mutters.

Pulling you behind him, you both wave a quick goodbye to the guys as he parts the crowd, heading for the door. You’re laughing as he drags you to his truck, door already unlocked. There is no preamble. There are no sweet nothings. Your shirt is yanked off, hot kisses pressed to your skin. Moans are pulled roughly from you when he begins to suck, leaving his mark on you. Your knees rest on either side of his legs. Clothed center rutting against the denim that holds him hostage. You ache, you burn. Benny, Benny, Benny.

“This won’t be sweet,” Benny breathes into your hair, hands gripping you to hold yourself up, you hear the flick of his pocket knife, and fuck, you know what he’s about to do. You aren’t even angry that he’s going to destroy your favorite pair of panties. He can always buy you more. “This won’t be gentle.”

The blade cuts through the lace and you whimper.

“I know. I know. I don’t want it gentle.”

“Think you can handle it?”

You bite his neck, making him groan. His hip bucking up into your naked core. “Yeah, baby. I’m certain I can.”

His fingers dig into your thighs before trailing towards your core. He groans, feeling how slick you are. Curses fall from his lips, his finger running up and down your seam. Back and forth, back and forth before he shoves a finger inside you. It’s not enough. You want so much more. Need it. Your Benny, your boyish, chaotic and mean Benny boy knows exactly what you need. Pulling his finger out only to shove three in, you keen, hands running up his neck and into hair. You huff, pushing his backwards cap off, the blonde locks falling free. Your hips are moving on their own, fucking yourself on his hand. He curves his fingers, reaching up in a ‘come here’ motion, and you tumble over the edge.

“You’re easy tonight,”

“‘I’m always easy for you.”

Benny laughs. “Only me?”

“Yeah, Benny.”

You see the flash of his smile before his lips are crashing against yours. He undoes his belt, pulling his pants down far enough to spring himself free. Your breath catches as you stare down at him. He’s leaking, hard, and throbbing. You pull yourself up as high as you can head lifting to look at him. His pupils are blown, black encompassed by a tight blue ring. It’s hot in the cab, sweat slicking up every inch of available skin. You run a thumb over the tip, smearing the precum. Your nails nip at his skin and he shivers. Your knees bump against the buckles, as you hover over him. His dick nudges the soaked folds of your cunt.

“Come on baby,” you say softly, lowering yourself down. “Wreck me, I can take it.”

And you know he wants to. Can feel the pent up energy from the fight vibrating his very being. He’s always keyed up after a match, but if he's won? There was no stopping him.

“You’re too good to me, honey,” his voice is thick with want.

Slowly you sink down onto him. He’s almost too big. The head of cock snags at your entrance, causing you to start over. You breathe in nice and slow, working yourself slowly until you’re at the hilt.

“Holy fuck,” You hiss as he bucks, you had given him permission and he’s taking it, demanding more–needing more the second he feels the tight velvet of your sex.

“Benny,” you whine, forehead resting against his.

He nods. He knows. He knows you need this as much as he does. You're clinging to him, hands tugging at his hair, cunt clenching around him like he’d slip free at any moment. His thrusts are slow, building a slow burn inside of you. Your toes curl because it’s just the beginning. You draw back, hips moving in a smooth tempo. You hit a good rhythm, letting yourself breathe, relax, and suck him in deeper. You’re almost where he wants you. He meets your gaze and his eyes hold something akin to mischief. You clench around him and he groans. He thrusts up a little harder than before, causing your head to fall back.

“Eyes on me,” You whimper and lift your head. “There you are, my pretty girl.”

You watch each other, a breath apart as you circle your hips and ride him nice and slow. You’re waiting for him to break. Any minute now. You go from circling your hips to lifting yourself up and down. He muffles out curses, hands gripping your hips to help you set a pace. It’s not a nice one. You flex your cunt, lower muscles bearing down as you grip him. He groans, the sound booming in the tight small space.

There’s pleasure coiling behind your pussy. “Benny, fuck,”

“What do you need, honey?”

“Fuck me,” You whine, pulling on his hair. “Please, baby, please. I need it, need you.”

His gaze drops from your face to where he’s burying himself in your tight cunt. He nods before lifting his eyes. “Stay with me. Ready?”

You flash him a grin and he jolts, his cock twitching deep. You cling to him, desperate and a little dizzy. You never got your water after that set. Sighing, he’s so big and you’re so fucking full. He fills you to the brim, cock dragging against your walls. You love every minute of it.

He hasn’t started yet. Not really, but your orgasm takes you by surprise. The rough graze of his pants against your clit. You know that your thigh is going to have his buckle imprinted on it. You lurch against him as a whimper escapes. You melt, boneless, like jelly. You’re loose and wet and fucking perfect. His nose presses into your cheek as he grinds into you.

“I love the way you feel when you’re coming on my cock.”

You snort, pulling yourself closer to him. Guttural grunts and low growls meet your ear. Heavy breaths that fog the windows. It’s a brutal taking, and you are not wet enough. Tears pool in your eyes, threatening to fall with every harsh thrust. You take what you're given, no complaints. You feel him firmly plant his feet, delivering a sharper thrust that nearly has your head hitting the top of the cab. He mumbles a shitty apology (clearly not sorry at all) but his grasp on your waist is unforgivable. You’re bouncing on his cock now, meeting his every thrust. He’s deep, so deep you’re surprised you can’t taste him. You pull his hair, grinning when he hisses.

“You gonna come for me again, honey?”

Benny knows you can’t talk. He knows you’re fucked out, gone stupid on his cock. He loves when you get like this, even better when you’ve asked for it. You shift, opening up your legs a little wider. He groans feeling himself sink deeper into you. You’re swollen and raw and you’re living for it. Nodding, his name falls from your lips, breathless–he’s your only savior.

It builds and builds and builds until it has nowhere to go. It roars forward, jolting you, a scream ripped from your throat and your nails digging into him so hard you can feel when he starts to bleed. Benny is right there. He holds you into place, stubble grazing your cheek. He fucks you through it, jamming himself into your searing overstimulated sex, he meets his end. His grip tightens, a low gravel filled groan comes from deep in his chest, filling you up. Shuddering he falls back against the seat, gasping for air.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, breaking the silence.

You fall forward, hugging him tightly to you. You hadn’t realized how much you’ve been missing him until you were drunk off of him. You’re aching and sore but you refuse to move away from him. His eyes are still dark and heavy-lidded as he regards you.

“Keep me in there,” he reminds you.

“Always.” You hum, scratching his head with your nails. “Missed you.”

“I’m right here, honey.”

“I know, still. Heard your fight was a good one.” You lightly run a finger over his brow making sure not to touch the stitching.

“It was. Wouldn’t have gotten hit if my lucky charm had been there.” His words make you grin. “But lo and behold, I walk into the damn bar and there you are. Hell in a basket just makin’ a racket.”

You laugh, lifting your head to kiss him. Both of you jump when someone bangs against the hood of the truck. You press yourself tighter against Benny.

“If you guys are done fucking, I’d like to go home.”

Your eyes widen. Will. Benny laughs and pulls your shirt down over your head. You adjust your skirt, watching Benny as he fixes his pants. He looks back at you, sunshine pouring out of his smile.

“It’s okay, honey. I know you’re mean. You’re mean and you’re mine.”

[3lectra-he4rt]

since there’s only a few weeks left until the day of reckoning,,

What scenes do you *need* in the ballad movie?

This one’s gonna be a long one, i’m pasting it from my notes app. (Some have emojis cause i was going through the rings of hell while reading) Buckle up. Also, some are just very vague in the sense that i just want *something* like what i’ve described.

- Coriolanus reading the letter from Tigris

- When Lucy was crying in the classroom with Coryo

- When Coriolanus gave Lucy the compact

- When Lucy is running from Reaper

- Arachne’s death

- Sejanus putting the breadcrumbs over Arachne and her tribute after they died, either Coriolanus noticing him doing so or it in the background for us to find

- Reaper making the graveyard

- Reaper cutting the flag

- Sejanus going into the arena and everything that followed (and him putting the breadcrumbs over Marcus!!)

- Sejanus showing up to be a peacekeeper with Coriolanus

- When Coriolanus calls Clemensia “Clemmie” </333

- When Clemensia comes into Coriolanus’ hospital room in the middle of the night

- The pus coming out of Clemensia when she is bitten (it NEEDS to be blue, pink, and yellow)

- Coriolanus and Lysistrata. Them while watching the games and strategizing bc Lysistrata has Jessup, but also just them being silly together ☹️☹️☹️

- Tigris with her fathers coat

- “Lucy Gray, having languished in Dr.Gaul’s lab, would be long dead, and his heart dead with her.” (Coriolanus thinking of his future)

- Sejanus’ house + “Ma’s corner” 😭😭😭

- C: “I don’t know what ever possessed me to ask for twelve.” S: “Completely random, obviously,”

- Lucy saving Coriolanus from the bombing, a shot of when her arm is around his shoulder and he’s clutching the ruffles of her skirt (the clutching is EXTREMELY IMPORTANT.)

- Him parading her around the monkey house when he get stuck in there w her and the other tributes

- The picnic at the zoo </33

- Coriolanus holding Clemensia from behind when the snakes show up in the arena

- When Smiley says there’s going to be someone named “Lucy something” singing at the hob the book says “His girl. His love. His Lucy Gray.”

- Ma’s explanation of the bread crumbs

- “We pour money into our industries, not into the districts themselves,” said Sejanus. “The people are on their own.”

- Literally just the daughter of Mayor Lipp’s name. It’s Mayfair.

- The execution of Arlo Chance + ‘Lil’ coming through the crowd for him

- “What’s bothering you? And don’t say nothing.”

- Everyone slapping each other’s backs after drinking some of the stuff smiley got in the Hob

- “It reminds me of the capitol” “you don’t say home.” “No. For me, that will always be district 2.”

- The hob fight

- “And yes, I’d be happy to go with you.”

- C: “Do I look okay?” S: “Gorgeous. Trust me, that lips working for you, soldier.”

- Lucy and Coriolanus’s argument with Billy Taupe

- C: “I thought you were letting this whole rebel thing go!” S: “I can’t, all right? It’s part of who I am..”

- Sejanus having drugs in his locker box

- ‘High-as-a-Kite-Bottom’

- L: “that’s what my daddy thought, too. And he ended up with more bullet holes than I could count on my fingers,”

- “ "Well, that's it, then. I saved you from the fire, and you saved me from the snakes. We're responsible for each other's lives now." "Are we?" he asked. "Sure," she said. "You're mine and I'm yours. It's written in the stars." "No escaping that." “

- “ "You know, Sejanus, I'm your friend. More than a friend. You're the closest thing I'll ever have to a brother. And there are special rules for family. If you need help . . . I mean, if you get into something you can't handle ... I'm here." Tears welled up in Sejanus's eyes. "Thank you, Coryo. That means a lot. You may be the only person in the world who I actually trust." Ah, trust again. The air was full of it. "Come here." He pulled Sejanus into an embrace.”

- Barb Azure is a LESBIAN?? “She just started seeing a gal down the road,” (Lucy talking abt Barb Azure

- L: “People have been around for a long time without the capitol. I expect they’ll be here a long time after.”

- Cc finding Katniss for Lucy

- The lake being the same lake as THG trilogy, Coriolanus noticing the house that would end up being so important for Katniss in THG

- The explanation of the covey’s names (song + color)

- The “we all have a ballad, and this is Lucy’s!” Scene with the song

- Sejanus looking like an eight year old boy to Coriolanus as he’s being pulled up to be hanged

- Sejanus saying “Coryo” while being pulled up to be executed

- Sejanus’s last word being “Ma!”

- Coriolanus’s absolute breakdown after Sejanus died

- The epilogue.

- "Because we credit them with innocence. And if even the most innocent among us turn to killers in the Hunger Games, what does that say? That our essential nature is violent," Snow explained.

Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[servenas-inner-fangirl]

Liveblogging Black Sails 2x9

Rewatching the first half of 2x9 because it's been a while and I am now more certain than ever that Abigail's entry was timed perfectly for the end of Flint's proposal to make Lord Ashe more suceptible to it.

Vane and his men enter the Spanish Man o' War in much the same fashion Flint won it at the beginning of the season, except they slaughter the sleeping men... parallels, parallels.

Vane didn't really win that fight with Billy, right? Looks like his men stepped in and Billy got a good kick in immediately prior. But then Billy is a giant, so who can blame Vane for not wanting to finish that one-on-one... also this way Billy can live.

Still digging the face paint.

But also Toby Stephens is so attractive in his role as Captain Flint. The hair, the beard, the way he talks, the way he moves... Like, Vane was pretty immediate, but this man is really growing on me.

I suddenly have a very bad feeling about Mrs. Barlow. What was she going to say when the knock on the door interrupted her?

So what, is Silver just gonna put a knife to Vane's throat and make him give up the ship? I so hope that's not the plan here.

God I love to see Anne fight. And we haven't really seen that since the pilot (if we don't count the murder of the guy from Flint's crew and his whore).

That atmosphere during the dinner sure is oppressive. And the ticking clock is making me nervous. Abigail couldn't play her role better if she had been instructed though (which maybe she was?)

Anne making a choice, still with blood spatters in her face. And I'm still pissed-off with Jack, but I'm glad she was there to save him. Shouldn't be too hard to convince the crew now...

Silver about to commit an act that might in the right light be read as selfless... or rather less selfish than usual. Wouldn't his chances be better if he swam to shore and tried to disappear in the dark streets?

But also if he succeeds and the situation with Lord Ashe goes south (which I suspect it will), they're all trapped in that harbor. That... doesn't sound good.

Vane, I believe you're barking up the wrong tree there with Billy. The enemy of your enemy is not necessarily your friend, and I don't think Billy shares your opinions right now.

But that captain's cabin sure is fancy.

I think that is the first time somebody actually managed to talk some sense into Vane, and the fact that it's not Eleanor or Flint, but Billy, is hilarious.

(Also you're still bleeding man, clean up your face.)

I think that's also the first time I've seen Vane run. It's kind of concerning.

Oh-oh, now Vane is coming after Silver personally...

Lord Ashe saying that bad word, "forgiveness"... this is where things go south, yeah? I think Mrs. Barlow knows it, too.

Oh, fuck, Flint's face. Ashe is asking for the one thing Flint can never give. All this hard work, for nothing... Wait, what?

The clock. The FUCKING clock. So it had a meaning but I was wrong about what it was. And Miranda is willing to blow up this whole thing for it, after everything. FUCK. (I mean, I get it, I really do, it's just...very unfortunate. AFTER FLINT SWALLOWED HIS PRIDE.)

And oh damn, she's taking no prisoners.

So this is not how I expected her death to go. I figured Flint would charge Ashe, and she'd be killed in the resulting scuffle. But she's just... executed? Holy shit.

Things don't seem to fare much better for Eleanor in Nassau...

Love to see Vane on the prowl, even though I hope he won't be successful. - Oh damn, outsmarted just like that, that's gotta sting.

I think what we're witnessing here is Vane having a change of heart in the light of Flint's treatment at the hand of Georgetown. Or at least that's what I hope it is...

Lesson learned, I hope: Don't hold Charles Vane at knifepoint unless you intend to follow through.

Awww, yes, the moment I've been waiting for!! Flint and Vane united are definitely a force to be reckoned with. Also I'm vaguely impressed Vane can admit he was wrong (or at least that someone else was right), although it's probably easier towards Billy than it would be towards Flint. Also Vane is not as stupid as he sometimes seems because he immediately understands the implications of Flint's capture for Nassau and by extension himself.

Quite ironic that Vane's taking of the Man o'War is what's gonna save Flint's ass in the end though...

Nooo, Eleanor!!

Wait, is that the first time we got a song in the credits?

[avastrasposts]

The British Connection - ch. 13**

Took me long enough, but this chapter finally has some smut 😄

Cross posting this properly on Tumblr for the first time so it's been scheduled out throughout the day:

The plot follows MI6 agent Eve Edwards as she's assigned to help Billy Butcher and The Boys take down a new type of supe killing politicians on both sides of the pond. Not much fluff in this, plenty of canon typical violence, smut and extreme amounts of Britishness

Read on Ao3

“Fuck,” Eve sighed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “That’s the second time you’ve seen me cry in three days, Billy.”

“Don’t worry about it, you’ve ‘ad a rough time of it.” Butcher gave her shoulder another squeeze and on impulse he bent down and kissed the top of her head resting on his shoulder. “And I like how you’ve started callin’ me ‘Billy’. Am I growin’ on you darlin’? No more ‘Butcher’?”

“I guess we’re on a first name basis now,” Eve said and sat up straight again, lifting her head from his shoulder, Butcher kept his hand on her shoulder so that she still sat close to him. His big hand was comforting as he held her and she could feel the warmth radiating off his body where they touched.

“Ye, I’m not callin’ you “Genevieve”, darlin’, “ he chuckled and Eve smiled.

“Only my grandparents called me ‘Genevieve’, it’s just ‘Eve’.”

“Eve, I can do, nice an’ simple.”

Eve looked up at him and gave him another smile before she put her hand on his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Thanks for being human for a bit, Billy,” she said and stood up as she let go of his hand. Butcher watched her move over to the monitor, adjusting one of the dials before she stretched, arms over her head and yawning big.

Billy scooted his chair back in position and grabbed the thermos on the console.

“Coffee? Might do you some good, luv.”

“Thanks, that would be great.”

Butcher pulled out a couple of paper cups and poured the coffee for them.

“I’ve gotta tell ya, all those names you’ve got, a load of bollocks. Why would anyone ever do that to a wee one?”

“Tradition, I guess,” Eve said as she twisted herself to stretch her back muscles. “Genevieve was my great grandmother, apparently she was a lady-in-waiting to Queen Victoria so I guess they wanted to keep that tradition,” Eve snorted loudly. “Horatia was my other great grandmother, a family name so apparently that one just had to be included. Daphne was my mother’s name so I guess that’s the most normal one.”

She sat down again, propping her feet up on the console. “I’m just grateful Genevieve can be shortened to Eve. Most people only know me as Eve Edwards.”

“Ye, Eve’s not too bad, the rest of them you can get rid of I reckon.” Butcher said, handing her a mug of coffee.

“Thanks Billy,” She accepted it gratefully. “I’m guessing you’re really ‘William’?”

“Ye, but that one doesn’t get used a lot. Generally, only when I’m in real trouble,” he chuckled with a mischievous grin at Eve.

“So all the time then?” Eve smirked, poking his side with her finger and he swatted it away with a smile.

“I stay out of trouble, I only get into trouble when I want to, like with you.” He gave her a look that made her stomach fill with butterflies, his double meaning plainly obvious.

“You’re flirting again, Billy,” she said, feeling herself blush as Billy turned in his chair and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees so that he was closer to her. “You were going to keep it serious while we’re on business.”

“We’ve got many hours left, gorgeous, let me entertain us a little at least,” he said, his voice lower now, as he reached out and caught her jaw in his big hand the way he’d done at the office. The pad of his thumb grazed across her bottom lip again and it sent sparks down to her core, making her press her thighs together.

Eve swallowed hard and found herself unable to look away from Billy’s dark eyes as he smiled at her. He was moving his chair closer again and she saw his eyes linger on her lips before looking up at her again. His thumb left her lip and he ran it along her jawline, sliding down over her throat as his big hand grabbed the back of her neck. Eve felt as if her heart was about to either stop or break out of her chest.

Only the sudden crackle of one of the monitors broke the tension as they both turned to look at the dark hotel room. Nothing moved in the room but Butcher dropped his hand from Eve’s neck and turned his attention to the dials, adjusting one to brighten the screen.

For a few minutes they intently watched all monitors, scanning them for any sign of McKay, but nothing showed. Eventually Butcher leaned back in his chair again.

“Alright, I’ll keep it serious,” he said, “no more flirting. For now”. The last was said with a grin and Eve felt herself exhale slowly, feeling the tension in the van simmer down. Billy’s attention seemed to have a dangerous effect on her and she felt it cloud her judgement, breaking her will to stay alert.

But now Billy seemed true to his word. As they settled in for the rest of the night he stayed away from any suggestive topics, instead he told stories about the different supes they’d managed to take down, letting her know he really had no love for any of them.

Finally eight am came around and there was a light tap on the door of the van. Eve slid it open and let Frenchie and Kimiko in to take over the shift. As Butcher and Eve got their things together, Frenchie updated them on how he was planning to get hold of the equipment needed to incapacitate McKay.

“Alright,” Butcher said to him, “If you need to leave for the supplies, get MM and Hughie to cover your shift here.”

He slid the door of the van open and let Eve out.

“Get in touch if anythin’ happens, we’ll be back tonight, hopefully we can get that fucker then. He’s got to return some time.”

“Qui, Monsieur Charcuterie,” Frenchie snapped a sloppy salute and closed the door behind them.

Butcher and Eve got into the car on the quiet street and Butcher started it up, pulling away from the curb.

“Now that we’re off the clock, darlin’,” he grinned, glancing over at Eve as he turned the first corner, “how about some more flirting?”

“Jesus, Billy,” Eve laughed, “We’ve just pulled an all-nighter and I’m betting you’re as hungry and tired as I am, and you’re still in the mood for flirting?”

“Like I told you yesterday, you’re gorgeous when you scowl at me so I’m gonna keep teasin’ ya.” Butcher reached over and grabbed her hand and put it on his thigh, where it had been yesterday in the car. “And this time you can go higher, darlin’,” he winked at her.

Eve really did scowl at him this time, as she pulled her hand back from his thigh, but not before making sure she gave his thick muscled leg a good squeeze that made him jump and chuckle.

“Alright, I hear ya, breakfast then. Let me take you out for breakfast at least?” Butcher asked, keeping his eyes on the road as they headed down FDR back towards downtown.

“Breakfast sounds good but I want to change out of my clothes first, I feel all rumpled after all those hours on the chair.”

“The diner I ‘ad in mind is near your flat, we can park in your street, it’s just round the corner.”

…

The morning traffic was heavy but eventually Butcher pulled up in front of Eve’s building. They got out and she led Butcher through the doors and into the lobby. She automatically went for the stairs, as was her habit, but Butcher thumbed at the lift in the lobby.

“Is it broken?” he asked.

“No, I just like taking the stairs, exercise and all that”, she replied.

Butcher just scoffed and walked over to the lift and pressed the call button. Eve started up the stairs, “I’ll see you up there, that thing is going to take forever”.

“Come on, keep me company then, luv. I’ll be lonely in there” he called back at her with a cheeky grin.

“No”, she called back, already halfway up the first floor, but she couldn’t help smiling to herself. The heavy flirting they’d been doing ever since they got back from D.C., and his irreverent charm, was starting to work on her against her better judgement.

When Butcher reached the 6th floor a few minutes later Eve was waiting for him in the hallway with an exaggerated look of someone who’s been waiting aeons.

“Finally!” she mocked as the door slid open and he stepped out.

“Miss me much, darlin’?” he chuckled and swaggered towards her with his arms outstretched.

Eve scoffed at him as she turned and led him to the door of her small flat. Unlocking she let them both in and closed the door. The place seemed even smaller with Butcher present and he sidestepped into the kitchen doorway to make room for her to pass through to the living room. She grabbed a clean t-shirt and jeans from her open suitcase on the floor and headed to the bathroom to change, dumping her old clothes in the hamper.

From the kitchen she heard Butcher give an excited exclamation.

“Oi, luv!” he called and she turned so that she could look out from the bathroom. He’d stuck his arm out from the kitchen and was eagerly shaking her box of Yorkshire Gold.

“Make us a cup, won’t ya? It’s been donkey’s since I had a proper brew.” He actually had a genuine smile on his face, dimples and everything. She laughed at his excitement and went over to the kitchen.

“Let’s have a proper brew” she said, mimicking the ad as she poured water into a saucepan and set it on the small induction stove.

“I ‘aven’t seen Yorkshire Tea anywhere ‘round here, where’d ya find it?” he asked.

“I brought it with me, never leave home without it,” she laughed. “How British eh?”

“Bloody right too”, Butcher scoffed. “The tea here is rubbish. Nothin’ but fruit teas and ‘erbals. ‘S like drinkin’ perfume. I’ve been forced to start drinkin’ coffee just because of it.”

“To be fair,” Eve got a couple of mugs down from the cupboard, “their coffee is a hell of a lot better than back home”. Butcher nodded in agreement and watched her drop tea bags in the mugs and pour on the now boiling water and mash them around for a minute.

“Milk? Sugar?”

“Only milk, ta, luv” he replied.

She got the milk from the small fridge and let him help himself before adding some to her own. Butcher leaned back against the counter and cautiously sipped from the mug, letting out a low murmur of content as he swallowed the hot liquid.

“That’s nice, that’s really nice, tastes just right” he mused and took another sip.

Eve leaned back against the counter opposite from him and smiled at the domestic scene. The familiar taste of the tea, the warmth in her stomach and the comfortable silence that usually settled once everyone started sipping their tea. Even with Butcher the drink seemed to work its magic and he visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping, the usually permanent frown on his forehead disappeared.

“Ya know, the only thing missing”, Butcher said and looked up, “is a biscuit or two. One of them lil’ Hobnobs or Ginger Nuts, never seen ‘em over here either”.

Eve smiled, “Did you smell them, Billy?” she asked and pointed at the cupboard behind him. “Top shelf”.

He put down his mug and turned around, opening the cupboard.

“Well, well, will ya look at tha!” he exclaimed and pulled out a box of biscuits. “The ones with chocolate on them and everythin’ “. He pulled open the box and shook out two Hobnobs. “You’re a star,” he said, smiling at Eve, offering her one of the biscuits.

“I was saving them for a special occasion or a particularly bad day of being homesick” she smiled back at him, accepting the biscuit, “But whom am I to deny a countryman in need?” Butcher chuckled again and chased down his biscuit with a swig of tea and reached for a second one.

They shared a few more biscuits in comfortable silence before both their mugs were empty and Eve put them in the sink. Butcher disappeared into the bathroom and Eve went to find a clean jumper.

In the bathroom Butcher did his business and then stood in front of the cabinet, having a quick inner battle with himself before gently opening the door for a peek inside. It was an old and bad habit but people kept all sorts of secrets in their bathroom cabinets and he wanted to know more about Eve.

On the first shelf was her electric toothbrush and toothpaste, along with a small first aid kit, deodorant, hair brush and some elastic bands for her hair. On the second shelf was a number of small glass bottles with chemical sounding names he couldn’t understand. He picked one and looked at the clear liquid inside, none the wiser. Carefully putting it back he looked at the top shelf and spotted a two tone coloured egg shaped object. He picked it up and felt the light weight in his hand, trying to figure out what it was. The egg had a small hole towards its narrower end and the hole had a soft ring around the edge.

Eve was on the sofa in a clean jumper, typing on her laptop, when Butcher walked out of the bathroom.

“Wha’s this?” he asked, holding up the egg in his hand.

Eve looked up and spluttered.

“Butcher! What the fuck?!” She jumped up and reached for the object but he was too quick and with a cheeky grin held it up above his head. He was already much taller than her, with his hand outstretched she stood no chance in reaching up to grab it and he knew it. And she wasn’t fucking jumping for it!

“You’re going through my things now? I give you my tea and my biscuits and this is how you repay me?!” Eve was half way between actually angry with him but also trying to stifle her laughter.

“I’ll give it back if you tell me what it is,” he said looking up at the egg-shaped object, “I’m racking my brain here.”

“You really don’t know what it is?” Eve said with a doubtful look. She couldn’t quite tell if he was being serious or taking the piss, the usual Butcher style.

“A shaver, maybe?” he guessed, weighing it in his hand again.

“Give it to me and I’ll show you” Eve sighed and put out her hand, “If you don’t know you’ll never guess”.

Butcher handed her the object and she took his hand in hers, stretching it out and placing the round hole against the pad of his thumb. Maybe this was a bad idea, pushing the flirting with Butcher a step too far. But she pushed the metal shape on top of the object and Butcher felt light tension against his thumb, his brow furrowed in confusion. She pressed the button a few more times and the tension grew on his thumb, suction was being created, pulling the flesh of his thumb up towards the hole.

“Now do you get it?” she asked, watching his face for a glimmer of comprehension. It took him a few seconds and then he gave her a wicked grin.

“Bet I can do tha’ alot better” he leered, not a trace of embarrassment on his face.

“I bet you think you can.” Eve rolled her eyes and turned off the sex toy, removing it from his hand. She tossed it onto the sofa behind her. Butcher was grinning far too widely and closed the already small gap between them, stepping well inside her personal sphere.

“I really think I can, luv,” he whispered, bending down so that his mouth brushed against her ear and his warm breath tickled her neck. It made her give an involuntary shiver and he noticed. She tried stepping away but somehow her legs were not working right now and he took her immobility as a sign to continue and touched his lips to the soft skin below her ear, lightly kissing her neck and causing goosebumps to break out. A small sigh escaped her and she felt, more than heard, Butcher smile.

His beard gently tickled her skin as he moved his lips up over her jaw and reached her mouth. She fought with the rational side of her mind against the side that just wanted to give in and pull him on to the bed, it was only a few shorts steps away in the small room. His lips were warm and soft on her mouth and his hands were on her waist now, finding the delicate skin between her jeans and her jumper. His kisses got more intense, pushed against her still closed lips. She parted them for him and his tongue slipped in, finding hers and tasting it eagerly.

He felt too good, his warm, firm body pressed up against hers, his calloused hands grabbing at her waist and pulling her closer. Without even really thinking she reached up and put her arms around his neck, pushing her fingers into the thick hair at the back of his head and letting her whole body arch into his. He grumbled low into her mouth and one of his hands slid up her back under her jumper, leaving trails of warmth across her skin as he caressed it. Her kisses were more eager now, her tongue slipped into his mouth, tasting the tea and the chocolate from before.

A moment of clarity hit her and she pulled away from him, putting her hands flat on his chest and pushing him back. He stopped kissing her and looked down with a frown but his hands were still firmly around her waist and she could feel the extra heat radiating off him.

“This really isn’t a good idea” she said, shaking her head to clear the feeling his kisses had built up inside her.

He bent down towards her neck again.

“Why not, gorgeous?” he said in a low voice and kissed her soft skin. He had clearly figured out that this made her feel very good. His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin and she had to bite her lips to catch the moan.

”It feels good, for both of us I think”, he continued, between light kisses and nibbles on her neck. To make matters worse he let his hand slide up the side of her body, caressing the skin up towards her bra, letting his fingertips brush across her nipple when he reached it. She felt her throat constrict at the touch.

“We should focus on the job at hand, Butcher. Not get involved with colleagues.” She sighed as his fingers brushed her nipple again with a bit more force as he continued to kiss and tickle her neck with his lips and beard. “But you’re making it very, very hard,” she moaned as he pulled her in close again and let his tongue slip inside her open mouth.

She really had no will to resist him, his lips pressed up against hers in a way that made her insides flutter.

He chuckled against her mouth and pulled away a little, looking into her eyes.

“We know we’re not getting any further on the job today and MM or Frenchie will give us a bell if something goes down.” He let his hands slide down towards her waist and further, down to the back of her thighs. “Until then, we can enjoy the end of this lil’ dance we’ve been ‘aving since you arrived”

He grabbed her legs and easily picked her up, giving her a wide, mischievous grin, as he wrapped her legs around his waist. She knew he could feel how hot she was where her jeans pressed against the top of his crotch. There was no denying that she wanted this as much as he did, she was just a little bit better at analysing long term consequences. Billy Butcher never thought of the long term consequences of anything, he just did what felt right in the moment.

Which is what he did now. He crossed the short distance to the bed and laid her down on it, bracing himself over her with both his arms. He looked down at her with that cheeky grin she’d seen so many times.

“But if you really want me to stop, beautiful, just say the word.”

Her stomach knotted in anticipation of what he wanted to do and how good it would feel. Her brain still tried to find the logical argument to stop this now, but her instinct clearly wanted something else because her hands reached up around his neck and pulled him down without her brain giving any command. He sank down on top of her, holding himself up on one arm so that he didn’t crush her, and found her lips again. This time Eve opened her mouth and kissed him back straight away, her hands slipping into his hair and pulling him closer. His tongue eagerly slipped into her mouth and she felt him slide it over her tongue as she let a moan escape. His kisses were sending jolts of electricity through her and the way the tip of his tongue caressed her own made her ache for more of his touches.

His free hand moved down to her waist and slipped in under her jumper, pushing it up as he found one of her breasts again, cupping it, letting his thumb slide across her firm nipple. The sensation made her inhale sharply and he did it again as she felt his smile against her lips. He circled the hard peak and every pass made her whimper until he grabbed her whole breast with his big hand and kneaded it, relishing the feel of the warm, firm flesh.

The whole length of his body was pressed firmly against her and she could feel the bulge in his jeans straining against her thigh. As she shifted her legs to give him space she felt him push her hips open and his erection pressed against her core. From his mouth came a low rumble as he pushed against her, the fabric of his jeans creating friction between them. His hand left her breast, grabbed her hip and pulled her closer to his cock, bearing down on her pussy through the fabric of their trousers, grinding against her with heavy breaths.

She moved her hands from his hair and down to the neck of his shirt, wanting to feel more of his hot skin and that body that felt so good against hers. The buttons were stubborn and her concentration was faltering as Butcher continued to grind into her pussy and work his lips down along her neck. Every now and then he’d nip at the sensitive skin with his teeth and then kiss the spot with his open mouth, making her shiver every time.

Finally the buttons came undone, Butcher lifting himself up a little to help her reach the last ones before she could push it over his shoulders. He shook it over one arm and then the other before tossing it to the floor and reaching for the hem of her jumper, pushing it up over her head and letting it fly the same way as his shirt. He stopped short at the sight of her black bra, her nipples clearly pushing against the thin fabric, letting his hand slide over both breasts, tweaking her nipples as he went. Her moans made him give her a grin.

“And you though’ this was a bad idea, luv” he said, continuing to caress the silk of her bra, teasing her with his fingers.

“I still think it's a bad idea,” she gasped as he gave her right nipple some extra attention by slipping his fingers inside the cup of the bra and finding her warm skin. “I’m just choosing to ignore long term conseque…” her last word trailed off because Butcher had pushed down the fabric of her bra and enclosed her nippled with his mouth, playing with it and letting his tongue roll around it.

“Oh god, Butcher” she groaned.

“Just Billy will do, darlin’ ”, he smirked as he sat up slightly and slipped the bra straps over her shoulders and unhooked it at the back. It went the same way as the shirts. He propped himself up on one elbow and continued to kiss and nibble at her breasts with his mouth but now his free hand was making little circles on her skin, moving down towards the top of her jeans.

Her skin was smooth and warm under his touch and he enjoyed how every little nip at her sensitive areas made her twitch and moan. She couldn’t hide that what he was doing made her feel good and he wanted to make her moan louder. His jeans were becoming uncomfortably tight across his groin and he wanted to take them off, feel her hands and eyes on him as she stroked it.

His hand reached her jeans and he undid the button and pushed down the zipper before letting his hand trail down under the fabric. He felt a shiver run through her body and she arched her back slightly up towards his hand. His fingers reached the top of her underwear and he toyed with the edge of it, letting his fingers slip under it and then pulling back, teasing her as her breath caught in her throat. He could feel his fingers touch the top of her opening as they slid under the fabric, she was burning hot. She started squirming under his touch.

“Take them off, Billy” she groaned, her hands pulling at his hair.

He looked up at her, leaving her breasts damp from his kisses, and she pulled his face closer to hers, kissing him with her open mouth on his lips. He slipped his tongue inside her and let his fingers slide under the fabric again, and deeper down, into her slit, touching the top of her clit. She moaned, louder this time, against his mouth and pushed herself against his fingers.

“Easy, luv” he mumbled, letting his fingers gently slide across her most sensitive area, gaining more loud moans from her, it was slick with wetness and his cock started aching. He had to get out of these jeans. As he pulled his hand away from her pussy she looked up at him again, her usually green eyes were dark, the pupils nearly fully open.

“I think there was something in the tea” she smiled at him, “this can’t be all you, making me feel like I’m about to melt”.

“S’all me, beautiful”, he said, “but you are meltin’ ”, he held up his two fingers coated in her juice. She stuck out her tongue and gave his fingers a small lick and then took them in her mouth, sucking them clean. It was Billy’s turn to moan now as her tongue slid down and then up his fingers. He could practically feel her tongue on his cock and it strained a bit more painfully against his jeans.

“I need to shed these trousers, luv” he whispered and pushed himself up and off the bed.

She followed him into a sitting position and reached and grabbed his belt buckle, pulling him close as he stood next to the bed. Billy looked down on her, the light from the one lamp in the room was on her red waves, even more unruly than usual after squirming on the bed. He wanted to grab that hair and pull her into position but instead he gently laced his fingers through the waves, caressing her hair and waiting for her to unbuckle his belt.

Her hands let it fall to the side and swiftly undid both the button and the zipper of his black jeans, exposing his boxers underneath. They were straining against his erection but just to have the jeans off made him feel relieved. She pushed the jeans down, leaving his boxers in place and he steadied himself on her as he stepped out of them. Eve’s fingers ran along the edge of the boxers and he watched as she slowly pulled them down, letting the elastic graze over his hard cock, his moan coming from deep inside his chest. She looked up at him at the sound and gave him a grin.

“Nice to hear I’m not the only one moaning here”, she said, starting to caress him and place small kisses along his cock. That drew another moan from him, louder this time. He watched her trail a few fingers along the length of his cock, teasing him and letting his breath hitch as her nails tickled along the length.

“Luv, you’re killing me ‘ere” Billy groaned.

The sight of her mouth so close to the head of his cock was more than he could take. He wanted to grab her head and firmly guide her mouth on to it and watch it slide between her lips. His grip tightened in her hair and she knew what he wanted.

Looking up at him again she let her tongue slowly lick the head, tasting the precum that had formed at the tip. Gently at first, she only licked around the edges, but soon she sucked the head into her mouth and let her tongue roll around it, tasting him thoroughly before taking more in, moaning slightly as her lips stretched around his thick form.

Billy watched her take more of his cock into her mouth and tried to stop himself from thrusting his hips into her. His cock was soon slick with her saliva and her wet lips stretched around it as she let it slip in and out, sucking along the length of it, taking it deep in. Her dark eyes were turned up on him and the sight of his hard cock sliding in and out between her red lips made him clench his jaw as he felt the pressure build in his core. The tip of his cock brushed up against the back of her throat and he bit down hard on his lip, breathing deep. Forcing himself to think of Frenchie’s dirty trainers stinking up the office when he kicked them off he tried to pull back from the edge. He released his grip on Eve’s waves.

“Slow down, beautiful,” he murmured, pulling himself away from her with effort. “I’m not going to last long if you work me like tha’ “.

“I was thinking about your promise to do a better job than my toy”, Eve said, letting go of his cock and giving him a cheeky smile she knew would set him off.

“Oh, I will, luv, don’cha worry”, Billy’s grin was huge. He clasped his own hands, flexing out his fingers, like an athlete getting ready for a match, stretching his neck to one side and then the other before grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet. His antiques made her laugh as he pulled her up. Reaching down he slid her already unbuttoned jeans down her legs, along with her underwear, leaving Eve naked in front of him as she kicked them aside. He slowly looked her up and down with a shameless grin before stepping closer to her.

“Eve, darlin, you really are gorgeous,” he murmured and bent his lips to hers, tasting his precum on her, as she opened her mouth to him. She pushed her hands into the hair at the back of his and pulled him closer, sucking in his tongue in a way that made his cock twitch. She moaned as she felt him push it against her stomach, the hard shape slick with precum and saliva.

Butcher pulled away from her mouth and cupped her jaw in his big hand, “Lemme know when it feels as good as tha’ thing and I’ll make sure to bring you higher,” he smirked and let his hand slide down her soft skin.

His hand found the top of her pussy and he watched her shiver and almost buckle as he slid a finger in between her folds. He slid his other arm around her waist and held her close to him, propping her up. Her pussy was just as wet as before and he found no resistance as he caressed deeper down her.

“All this drippin’ wet heat in your cunt just because of me, beautiful,” he chuckled at her. She put her arms around his neck and rested her head against his chest, trying to control her breathing. Billy could hear her moans grow more intense as he continued to slide his finger across her clit, he wasn’t even applying that much pressure yet, but her breathing was becoming laboured. When he thought she was too close to the edge he removed his hand, and she let out a small whine.

“I told you to take it easy, darlin’.”

“You’re making that bit very difficult,” she stood on her tiptoes to pull him down for a kiss, her mouth pressing against his hot lips as his tongue found hers. She let her hands slip up over his chest, finally getting a good feel of it. His skin was surprisingly smooth with sparse dark hairs that tickled her palms as she caressed him. She could feel scar tissue in a few places and she let her fingers gently explore them as they continued to kiss, his tongue pushing back into her mouth. His hard cock was pushed up against her stomach, and the heat radiated on her skin, she let her hand slip down and grab it but Billy smiled and pulled her hand away.

“Not yet,” he said, pushing her gently down onto the bed. “Crawl to the top and lay down on your back”, he ordered her and she complied. As she moved up the bed he watched her wet pussy glinting between her legs. It was all he could do to not fall on top of her and fuck her straight away, the sight was beyond tempting and his cock was throbbing.

Billy kneeled down onto the bed so that he was still looking down at her outstretched body in front of him. She was laying back on to the pillow at the top of the bed, head cocked slightly to the side as if she was studying him. As he watched she let her right hand slide down between her legs and push them apart, her fingers finding her clit and circling it. Her head fell back with a moan but she pulled herself back and looked up at him again.

“You’re taking too long, Billy”, she said and put her other hand up towards him, beckoning him down towards her.

“Just enjoyin’ the view, pet” he growled in a low voice, his eyes not leaving her fingers as they continued to circle her clit. “But stop doing tha’, I’m gonna do it better”, he smirked and finally bent down onto the bed, pushing her legs apart and positioning himself between them, his big hands were on her thighs, opening her up to his gaze. Eve groaned as he bent closer and slowly trailed some kisses and nips along the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs, moving closer to her dripping centre. She arched her body up, trying to move closer to his mouth, low moans escaping her between her shallow breaths.

“Please, Billy,” she begged. Her hands were in his hair now, trying to pull him closer but he couldn’t be shifted.

“You’re so wet and hot, gorgeous, so sweet tasting,” he murmured, his voice lower than usual as he came closer to her pussy. Grabbing her right leg, he bent it at the knee, pushing it up towards her hip, giving himself better access as he slowly let the tip of his tongue slide up into her fold, finding her swollen clit almost straight away. When he finally touched it Eve shivered violently as if a small orgasm had already rocked her body, her pussy contracted around nothing. Whimpering loudly her fingers were tightening in his hair. He could feel the tension in his scalp and he let himself be pulled closer, his mouth fully in her pussy now.

Eve could feel his tongue work its way down and push inside, exploring how far he could reach, before pulling back and moving back up to her clit. Billy’s movements were unpredictable on her, he licked her with the tip, pushed harder against her clit, making her feel it deep down in her core, used his teeth to pull small sharp groans from her when he nibbled around the edges of her pussy until he pulled her clit into his mouth and started sucking on it, mimicking the motions of her sex toy. But this was better, this was so much better. He sucked gently at first but as her groans grew louder he increased his pressure. Her hips were pushing against him and he could feel the contractions starting to build in her pussy as he pulled her closer to the edge of her climax. Billy glanced up at her and saw her flushed face thrown back, her neck exposed, her breasts rising rapidly as she moaned his name.

“Oh Billy, god, I’m so close, so close!” she mumbled almost incoherently through ragged breaths.

She felt him move his hand up, sliding two fingers into her hot pussy without any resistance, and she was pushed even closer, her pussy contracting around his fingers as she felt him curl them back up, finding that sweet spot just inside her opening. He rubbed against it, adding friction and each movement made her convulse and cry out.

His mouth was on her clit, sucking it in, she could feel his tongue swirling around it and she moved her hips up against him, willing him to give her more. His fingers were sliding in and out of her, finding that spot deep in her cunt every time.

She could hear him mumbling against her clit, his voice vibrating through her and as he pushed in a third finger, stretching her pussy, she cried out his name. Her body tensed up, pushing her pussy against his mouth and he pushed her over the edge, letting his fingers work her through the climax, wave after wave rolled through her. Billy felt her pussy contract around him like a vice, and her juices soaked his beard.

A strangled cry escaped her as she arched her body up against his face and then collapsed on the bed. Her breathing was ragged and her chest rose with her deep breaths. Billy softened his hold on her clit but continued to lick her with smooth strokes until she pulled his head up towards her. Her eyes were dark and soft, strands of her red hair were plastered against her flushed cheeks. Billy moved up over her and kissed her soft, warm lips, he knew she could taste herself on him, his beard was damp from it. His hard cock brushed up against her stomach and Eve shivered, the thought of it inside her made her pussy contract again.

“Come inside me now, Billy” she said and moved her body under him so that his cock was pushed up against her still wet centre. “It feels so good after I come and if you’re good enough you’ll make me come again” she smiled up at him with a challenge.

Billy wasn’t about to turn down a dare like that and he grinned back at her while he took his cock in his hand and found her pussy with its tip.

“I know I made you come harder than that toy, babe, with just my mouth. You think I can’t make you come just as hard with my cock inside you?” His grin promised that he was prepared to back up his words, rubbing his cock up and down her slit, making her jolt every time he let it slip over her still sensitive clit. He saw it and he enjoyed it, making her breath deeper as her eyes dropped closed and she leaned her head back, relishing the feeling his cock gave her.

“Let me feel you inside me, Billy,” she murmured, “please.”

Billy groaned and looked down between them, the swollen head of his cock was pushed up against her wet opening, spread wide for him. He pushed in the head, feeling her cunt contract around it and he lost control. With a deep growl he pushed his whole length inside her. Slliding up and down her pussy, teasing her, had built up the pressure inside him to a breaking point, he needed to fuck her. Hard. Now. As he thrust inside her he felt her snug walls close around him, squeezing him tight.

“Ah, luv, Eve, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he moaned, his hands finding her hips and pulling her down on to his shaft. Eve felt him stretch her out and push deep into her, she could only gasp as he bottomed out. He was filling her up, creating friction deep inside her and she felt how his movements stirred something deep inside her, hitting spots that made her cry out as a familiar heat started to build in her core. She grabbed onto his shoulders, digging her nails into his hot skin, needing him to envelop her with his heavy body as he thrust his hard cock into her wet cunt.

Billy pulled almost out, looking down to see his cock covered in her juice and he bit down hard on his lip. “Fuck, fuck, you’re so wet,” he gasped and moved down over her, letting her pull him down over her, her pussy contracting around his cock as she wrapped her arms around him and moaned into his ear.

He felt her wrap her legs around his waist, pulling him in again as he pressed his mouth on hers, pulling her tongue into his. He thrust harder again and his groans grew louder, he held a steady pace, trying to not to come too fast, needing to feel her come on his cock first. He pressed his face against her neck, trying to pull her as close as possible, letting his cock slam into her again and she cried out for him.

Her pussy squeezed him every time he pulled out, almost holding on to him and when he thrust back in he could feel how she contracted around him again. She was pressed up against his chest, breathing hard against his neck and ear, moaning his name now, as he slammed his hips into her with increasing pressure. She could feel her orgasm building up inside her again, his cock was adding friction to all the right spots and she groaned, her hands grabbing onto his shoulders.

He lifted himself up and slipped his hand in between their bodies, finding her clit swollen and slick. She gasped as he used his fingers to circle it, making her teether on the edge of a new climax.

“Darlin’,” he panted, staring down at her with heavy eyelids, his eyes almost black, “I need you to come on my cock, I wanna feel it, need to feel you drench me,”

He felt her pussy contract hard around him at his word and she cried out and dug her fingers into his back. Her climax broke over her, her pussy squeezing him tight as her body arched up against his chest, her whimpers filling his ears as she came undone under him. He groaned loudly, feeling his own release begin. Grabbing her shoulder with his free hand he pushed his hard cock deep into her as his cum shot out, needing to feel her tight cunt squeeze him dry. He continued to thrust into her slowly relaxing pussy as she came down from her second climax and he pumped the last of himself into her with slower thrusts, his head heavy against her neck.

For a few minutes all that could be heard in the room was their breathing, laboured and slowly calming down. Billy had collapsed on top of her as his arms gave out, he was vaguely aware of not trying to crush her too hard, but she didn’t seem to mind, her arms still around his neck and shoulders.

Eventually he let himself slip out of her, his cock softening. His cum was trailing out of her, making a mess on the bed. He pushed his arm underneath her and pulled her over himself, and on to the other side, laying her down on his arm so that he could look down on her. She smiled a small smile at him and reached up to touch the scar above his eye.

“Definitely better than the toy, but can I keep you on my bathroom shelf?”

“I doubt it, luv, but I promise to come an’ play with you whenever you need me” he said, his face softer than she’d ever seen it. “I run on tea and biscuits for tha’ particular skill set”. His smile was cheeky again and he bent down to plant a kiss on her lips.

[theeleventhhour]

whatever is happening with Billy and Bob and Bondy I just know Van is fuming

Sorry for replying late

But yeah. I don’t know Van but if I were in his place I’d be completely mad too. I’ve been on situations where I’ve fallen out with people and my friends still being their friends and i couldn’t stand it. It took me a while to gain the maturity of don’t care about it and learn that I can’t force people to like someone or not.

I don’t know what happened between Van and Bob/Bondy/Billy and I’d really want to know all the gossip. Tbf I’d feel hurt seeing people that “left me” (I repeat idk what happened to cause the departures) being successful and remain friends while the anger and envy are consuming me, also the feeling of failure bc the band is the work of his life and he and all put a lot on it.

But it isn’t that recent. I remember seeing like a year ago an ig story of Bob and Billy together, and around that time Vegas posted on Reddit something about going out for a beer with Billy and Benji who was out the equation of the drama. Maybe they remained friends trough the years or maybe with all the stuff that happened they reconnected to talk about life. Remember they all grew up in the same small town and they probably still there or at least they come often.

I do think there isn’t any relation with Billy and Bondy. I’ve heard that Billy said some things of Bondy and the fans so Bibby complimenting him it’s kinda weird. I believe Bondy likes his comments because is very polite but that’s all, as far I know he even doesn’t follows him back.

Despite of all I love that Bob and Bondy are still being friends, it shows they care about each other and they are super talented to be doing nothing. I’m happy to seeing them happy with their own bands. At the end it’s about doing what you live the most and if they were unhappy in catb maybe this was (and seems) to be the best option.

Also Billy did a podcast where he talked about catb, I haven’t heard it but I think one of my mutuales said he talked very good about it like reminiscing the good old days and kinda redeemed(? about that stuff he said.

Honestly I don’t know what to think about him but he have to reckon he had done his part of the effort that involved the first album and was his band too. It must have been hard watch it succeed after he left. After all he and the boys are just people with valid feelings like you and me.

Btw sorry for beating around the bush anon. It’s just I don’t know how to feel about it. We have a lot unsolved questions. What’s up with Benji nowadays? Where is Van? (at least we know he’s alive and wherever he is has internet). Will ever Catb come back? If yes, who are the members? Could reuse some old producers (sardy?) or members?

Idk where it Van but I wish he’s taking care of himself and keep playing music, not for the industrie but because it moved his life. I must admit I’m a little worried about him, how much pressure must feel he now to be noticed to be removing likes from ig posts in order to not be seen online. If is annoyed with so little I can’t picture seeing him dealing with the big press.

At least he’s unpacking a lot of merch to keep us entertained!

Anyways sorry again for the massive texts and thank you for swimming by my asks!

[luuurien]

billy woods & Messiah Musik - Church

(Abstract Hip Hop, Boom Bap, East Coast Hip Hop)

Stepping away from expansive album concepts and looking inwards towards a narrative of heartbreak, politics and faith, billy woods' second album of 2022 explores a vulnerable side of him rarely seen in his expansive discography. It's a thrilling change for a rapper so often shrouded in such mystery.

☆☆☆☆½

Church is the most we've ever learned about billy woods on a single album of his, and that alone is something to get excited about. One of underground hip-hop's most elusive figures, everything about woods comes solely from his music, yet there's an emotionality and warmth to it all nonetheless: his explorations of Blackness and the African diaspora on this April's Aethiopes hid delicate personal moments in the densely packed writing of songs like Remorseless ("The chain say envy, but PTSD keep me countin', never spendin' / My accountant is a head full of bad memories and sad endings") and Asylum ("Downstairs I hear my mother breaking dishes, my father trippin' / It's been quite bad lately, high tension"), and 2019's Hiding Places found a similar balance as he reckoned with poverty and class systems through the cracked lens of Kenny Segal's production ("I'm the feelin' after you killed him and seen the safe empty / The weight lift like payday lendin' / Face twist at the memory," he rapped on the magnificent Speak Gently). In Church, he chooses to do something entirely unexpected from someone who has long been known for his lyrical mystique and thematic fogginess: write straight from his perspective. Though it takes on the same thematic complexity and rich imagery of his past projects, woods focuses here on a breakup which earns a larger role as the catalyst for contemplations on faith, family, and exploitative systems - all familiar themes for woods, but given a sharp personal bent through the lessons his own childhood religiosity taught him and how those memories persist in his world today. He's still a master of his craft, and the unorthodox viewpoints Church injects into his music prove vulnerability and warmth are as important to his work as any of its intellectual elements. Entirely produced by Messiah Musik, who's previously found himself in woods' orbit with his production for Armand Hammer, his murky boom-bap style provides woods' rapping more padding to bounce off of than the colder, emptier atmospheres Aethiopes used to put his storytelling at the forefront. While woods' rapping adds dimensionality and color to Church's world. Messiah's production is the album's beating heart, pushing him into sentimentality with Classical Music's gorgeous piano loop or sneaking in some discomfort with the warped, muted horns in the background of Fever Grass - it might feel underwhelming coming off the tail-end of Aethiopes' blend of dub and blues and 90's boom bap, but by no means are these beats poorly made, not in the slightest. woods also benefits from the smokiness Messiah's sampling style lends to Church, able to stay in his comfort zone of moody confessionals while never being face-to-face with you, Paraquat's dimly-lit halls following woods down roads of heartache ("Loved that girl, but knew we wouldn't work like Harden on the Rockets"), identity ("In DC they called me New York, I didn't correct it") and political allegory ("Whitey hit Hiroshima, then he doubled back / Black rain baptized, black skies / I'm always waiting on the thunderclap") that give greater insight into woods' internal workings without showing you how it all functions in one go. Church, despite its brief 37 minute runtime, unfolds strikingly slowly, patience and understanding rewarded with the same level of passion and gratification as any of his other projects. Hearing woods so stripped-back is an odd thing at first, but what it brings to the table is a level of radiance and expansion his emotional moments have never been treated to until now. There've always been undercurrents of trauma and mental hardship in his work, but it's always been put into the context of a broader idea: the dupes of capitalism, African identity, imperialism and revolution. Here, those ideas are slid underneath naked accounts of love and loss, Schism memorializing grief and artistic security as he flashes back to leaving a woman's sorrow out of his raps yet needing his music as a space of creative safety ("The shit I wrote, can't do it on a phone / ...The sadness in her eyes, I left it off the page") and Artichoke finding a similar kind of reminiscence as he drifts back into childhood ("It's certain things you can only learn from a fist fight / I used to use a toothbrush to keep my kicks white, it mattered that much") and then connects it to contemporary tensions between the long-standing harshness of hip-hop culture and its relation to LGBT communities, woods still aware of his music's inextricable connection to sociopolitical issues but emphasizing his personal intersections with them rather than the inverse. Detailed as ever, Church's fragmented framework of emotions and the real-world events that compound them helps to support what his previous album perfected, a companion piece for Aethiopes that explores what comes to the individual alongside widespread societal struggles. Desire and connection have never sounded so fundamentally to woods' music like it does here: even as he pricks the same veins as his previous projects, there's something infinitely more tender about hearing him remember where each chip bag was in the hospital vending machine or the innate discomfort of visiting his cousin's tumultuous home, opening up more directly than ever before and letting his emotions guide him in a way that's incredibly unguarded yet wholly confident. His skill as a rapper and storyteller will always hold his music high, Church an opportunity for him to try something new after a string of conceptually ambitious and technically marvelous projects. billy woods isn't trying anything too out of the ordinary, but he doesn't have to: the power of his words on top of rock-solid beats is more than enough to make every moment land with conviction and unending empathy.