#william billy baird

[forumsdackel]

Mission Impossible Gifsets: x x x x x x (more coming soon) Mission: Impossible 2 (2000)

One of my fav scenes. Billy's being a lil shit, and Hugh is just... angy gay man.

[cowboyandasongbird]

darlin’, you don’t ever have to worry— i’d never run from you. i’d never let anyone tame me, but maybe i’d let you. | a cowboy and his songbird. william h. bonney & lucy gray baird.

[phfenomena]

send requests please i’m running out of ideas 😞😞

[belqva]

₊˚⊹౨ LOML [C.S.] ৎ ₊˚⊹

warnings: none, except for a lot of angst but oh well. the tortured poets department gave me inspiration for this so are we surprised?

summary: In the shadows of triumph, Coriolanus Snow, victor of the 10th Hunger Games, faces exile. Bound by a promise and a tender moment Coriolanus leaves behind his best friend and a life of endless possibility.

pairing: academy!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

a/n: my first ever fanfic I’m posting <3 english is NOT my first language so if you encounter some spelling or grammar errors let me know! I’m happy to hear any criticism or recommendations and my inbox is open so feel free to share your thoughts and any requests 🤍 please reblog or support in any way you can if you enjoy it thank you!

You could hardly believe it was real. The moment seemed too surreal, too much like a dream, but the reality was undeniable. Lucy Gray, with her haunting song to the snakes, had captured not just the Capitol’s attention but their hearts as well. Even Dr. Gaul, who had initially refused to let her out, was forced to relent under the intense demands of the entire student body.

In that electrifying moment, Coryo and Lucy Gray became victors, and with them, you felt your world shift.

You were still trembling from the intensity of the past few minutes. Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and your hands quivered with a mixture of relief and disbelief. Everything would be alright now.

You felt a huge grin spreading across your face, the kind that hurt your cheeks. Everything had worked out in the end—Coryo would get his prize money, he would attend university with you, and the Snows would finally find themselves in a better financial position.

All of his hard work, his cunning, his sacrifices—it had all paid off. It was like a dream come true, perhaps even better.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the euphoria wash over you. Memories of your friendship with Coriolanus began to flood your mind.

You thought back to the early days, back when everything seemed so uncertain and bleak. The Snow family had lost so much, their wealth, their power—everything had crumbled after the war. But through it all, Coryo had never given up.

You admired that about him, his tenacity and resolve, even when the odds were stacked so heavily against him.

You remembered how the two of you would sit together in the Academy’s courtyard, discussing your plans for the future, as if speaking them out loud would make them more likely to happen.

He would always say, “We’ll get through this, you and I. We’ll find a way.”

And you had believed him, because despite everything, Coryo had a way of making you believe that anything was possible.

You had been there through the the tough times. When they had nothing to eat for days leaving him and Tigris alone in that cavernous, crumbling apartment, the remnants of a life that once promised so much. You’d seen him struggle to keep up appearances, to maintain a semblance of dignity despite the whispers and the pitying glances from others.

But through it all, he remained determined, and you stood by his side, offering what little comfort and support you could. He’d never once asked for your help, but you’d given it anyway, because that’s what friends did.

And then came the Games. You knew from the start that Coriolanus would be an exceptional mentor, but you also knew how high the stakes were for him. Winning wasn’t just about pride or glory; it was about survival. It was about securing a future, not just for himself, but for Tigris, for the memory of his family.

You had watched him throw himself into the role with everything he had, determined to make a success of it, even as others doubted him.

Now, standing there among the cheering students, you felt that familiar swell of pride. He had done it. Against all odds, Coriolanus Snow had not only survived but thrived. And in doing so, he had proven to everyone—most of all to himself—that he was capable of greatness.

But you had to see him, had to touch him, to truly believe it.

The Academy space where the mentors had gathered was a cacophony of noise and movement. Students were on their feet, celebrating, congratulating him. You were seated in the back rows, and it was a struggle to make your way through the throng of bodies. You pushed through the crowd, muttering apologies and excuses as you went, your eyes scanning for that distinctive head of blond, almost white curls.

Finally, you spotted him. Coriolanus was standing with Tigris, his face lit up with a smile so genuine and full of relief that it gave him an almost otherworldly glow. The look of pure triumph on his features made your heart swell with happiness, if such a thing was even possible at this point.

As you drew closer, you could see the exhaustion etched into his features, the toll the Games had taken on him, but also the undeniable joy of victory.

“Coryo,” you called out, not too loudly, but just enough for him to hear. He turned at the sound of your voice, his eyes brightening even more when he saw you. Without a second thought, you hurried toward him, and as soon as you were within reach, you wrapped him in a tight, almost bone-crushing hug.

He held you just as tightly, his arms wrapping around you like a lifeline. For a moment, it felt like the two of you were the only people in the room, the sea of students and the noise fading into the background.

Coryo clung to you as if he never wanted to let go, his breath warm against your ear, and you could feel his heart pounding against your chest.

“You did it,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, tears welling up in your eyes. “You actually did it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that had started to fall.

“I knew you could do it, Coryo,” you continued, your voice trembling but full of conviction. “I never once doubted you. I’m so proud of you.”

His gaze softened at your words, and for a brief moment, the stoic mask he usually wore cracked, revealing the vulnerable boy underneath. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of gratitude. “Thank you for everything. For being by my side, for never giving up on me.”

“Always,” you replied, your voice barely more than a breath. The two of you stood there, foreheads pressed together, savoring the moment.

It was a small pocket of peace amidst the chaos, a brief respite where nothing else mattered but the two of you.

You thought back to all those times he had confided in you, those late-night talks where he shared his fears, his doubts, and his hopes. You knew Coryo better than anyone, perhaps even better than Tigris. You knew how deeply he felt things, even though he tried to hide it behind a calm, composed exterior.

You knew how much this victory meant to him—not just for the tangible rewards it would bring, but for what it represented. This was proof that he could rise above his circumstances, that he could reclaim the Snow family’s honor, that he could be someone who mattered.

But as with all moments, this one couldn’t last forever. The crowd around you began to press in again, and Coriolanus was soon whisked away by more well-wishers.

He drank posca, shook hands, and accepted congratulations with a grace that seemed almost second nature to him. Yet you could tell that this victory had loosened something in him, something that had been tightly wound for far too long.

As you watched him navigate the crowd, you felt a swell of pride that was almost overwhelming. This was the Coriolanus Snow you knew—a natural leader, someone who could command a room with just his presence. And yet, beneath that polished exterior, there was still the boy you had grown up with, the boy who had faced more hardships than most would ever know.

You knew that this moment would change everything for him, for both of you. The prize money would secure his future, ensuring that he could attend university and continue on the path you had both dreamed about.

The Snow family name would be restored, and with it, a sense of dignity that had been sorely lacking for so long. For the first time in years, Coryo’s future looked bright, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction knowing that you had played a part in helping him reach this point.

Soon enough, a voice rang out over the noise, commanding that Coriolanus report to the High Lab immediately.

The summons didn’t seem unusual—after all, he was the victor’s mentor, and surely they would want to congratulate him in person, perhaps even offer him some insight into what would happen next. Maybe he would get to see Lucy Gray again, to explain what had happened in those final, crucial moments.

You watched as Coryo set off, his steps confident, his back straight. He was walking toward his new life, a life that would finally give him the recognition and security he had fought so hard for.

As he reached the doors and paused, he turned back for just a moment, his eyes seeking yours. He gave you a small, reassuring smile—the kind that said everything was going to be okay.

And in that moment, you believed it. You returned his smile, your heart full to bursting with love and pride. This was just the beginning of a bright and promising future, and nothing could dim the light of this victory.

Coryo gave a final nod and then turned, pushing the doors open and stepping through, leaving the noise and the crowd behind him. As the doors closed, you stood there, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment. Everything had worked out just as it should.

Everything was going to be alright.

You had gone home soon after Coryo left for the high lab, still aglow with excitement. The manor's grand halls felt almost empty, echoing your unspoken anticipation. You could hardly wait to share your joy with Coryo—just the two of you, away from the world's gaze.

You greeted your parents as you passed through the living room, where they sat absorbed in the Capitol news.

Your mother, wrapped in a luxurious shawl, watched Lucky Flickerman with a serene smile. Your father, seated with his customary stern expression, barely glanced up.

You quickly made your way to your quarters, jittery and impatient.

After hours of trying to kill time, trying not to worry about the worst you decided you had enough. Each second of silence, with no calls or messages from Coryo or Tigris, increased your anxiety. What could be delaying them? Were they intentionally avoiding you, or had something gone awry?

Your frustration mounted. You couldn't bear to stay in your room any longer. The adrenaline of your excitement had not yet worn off, and now you were driven by a mix of worry and determination. With no further ado, you decided to head to the Snows' penthouse.

You left your room and walked briskly down the hall, informing your parents of your intentions. “I’m going to see Coryo,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, but haven’t you talked to him already, dear?” Your mother asked, her voice laced with concern. “It’s quite late to be heading out.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed with disapproval. He was always stringent about your associations and activities. Relationships before marriage were forbidden in your household, and in the Capitol elite, it was considered unacceptable for a young woman to have a suitor without a promise of marriage.

“Tigris invited me over,” you explained smoothly. “We’re just going to celebrate. His grandmother will be there too. It’s just a nice gesture, really. An honor.”

The lie slipped effortlessly from your lips. Growing up with strict rules had honed your skill in deceit.

“Well, alright then,” your mother said with a hesitant smile. “But don’t stay out too late. And make sure to return before midnight.”

“Just be careful,” your father added gruffly, his gaze following you as you left.

With their reluctant approval, you stepped out of the manor and instructed your chauffeur to drive you to the Corso.

As you exited the car, the cool night air hit you like a refreshing wave, contrasting sharply with the heat of your nervousness. “Wait here,” you told the driver, hurrying towards the Snows' apartment. The street was quiet, the world seemingly paused in the wake of recent events.

At the Snows’ penthouse, you knocked a few times, your heart pounding with anticipation. The door creaked open slowly. It was Tigris, her usually bright demeanor replaced with a shadow of sorrow. Her face, streaked with tears, made your heart sink.

“Tigris, is everything alright?What happened? Where’s Coryo?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Tigris’s pitiful smile offered little comfort. She placed her hands gently on your shoulders, squeezing them in a gesture of uneasy sympathy. “I think you should talk to him. He’s in his room.”

The unease in her voice only deepened your worry. “Tigris, please, tell me what’s going on. I need to know.”

She sighed heavily, her voice a whisper. “It should be Coryo who tells you.”

Your patience snapped. You rushed to Coryo’s room, your mind racing. The Snows’ modest apartment, a reflection of their strained finances, was familiar to you, but tonight it seemed more forlorn than ever. You passed the grandmother, her stoic expression masking her own despair.

The door to Coryo’s room was ajar. You pushed it open gently and peered inside. “Coryo?” you called out softly.

He stood in the center of the room, his once confident presence now subdued. His back was turned to you. He was packing.

The ethereal glow that had surrounded him in the academy was gone, replaced by a deep, palpable sadness. He turned at the sound of your arrival. His usual calm demeanor was marred by a profound sorrow reflected in his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice soft and weary, as if seeing you for the first and last time.

You rushed to him, your concern overflowing. “Is everything alright? What happened in the High Lab? Did Gaul hurt you?” Even the thought made your stomach twist.

He took a deep breath and guided you to sit on the edge of his bed. Then he began to explain: the rat compact, the rat poison, the incriminating handkerchief.

They had pieced it all together—the cheating, the deceit, and Highbottom’s decision to offer him a chance at redemption as a peacekeeper. The devastating conclusion was clear: banishment for twenty years.

As he spoke, the world seemed to collapse around you. The realization was like a punch to the gut—a cruel twist of fate. Coryo’s life, once filled with promise, was now reduced to ashes. There was no solution, no fixing this. This wasn't a schol assignment gone wrong, this was real life.

The dream you had cherished was burning down before your eyes.

“No, this… this can’t be happening,” you whispered, trying to grasp the enormity of it all.

“Yes, it can,” Coryo said bitterly. “It’s already decided.”

You struggled to hold back your tears. “So, when are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow at dawn,” he murmured, his voice hollow. He couldn’t meet your gaze. The weight of failure and impending separation was too much for him to bear.

Your heart ached for him—this young man who had faced so much adversity and yet still carried the burden of his family’s future on his shoulders. The thought of losing him, of never seeing him again, was almost unbearable.

Coryo’s gaze finally met yours, and he saw the silent tears streaming down your cheeks. His own heart clenched with a new kind of pain. “Y/N,” he said desperately, “please don’t cry. I hate it when you do that.”

You tried to steady your breathing, but the tears kept coming. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I’m not ready to let you go, Coryo. It shouldn’t have ended like this.”

Coryo pulled you into his arms, letting your tears soak into his uniform. He held you tightly, his own despair mingling with the comfort he tried to offer. He hated feeling like this. Out of control. He couldn't help you. Hell he couldn't help himself.

You clung to him as if he were the only anchor in a stormy sea.

Eventually, you lay down together on his bed, your bodies intertwined. You traced random shapes on his chest, while he stared blankly at the ceiling. After a few quiet moments, you spoke softly, “Maybe I’ll be able to visit you someday.”

Coryo smiled sadly. “I doubt it. Even if you could, I wouldn’t want you around those district savages.” He said the last part bitterly, not hiding his hatred for the districts.

You countered gently, “Not everyone from the districts is terrible. Look at Lucy Gray—she’s from the districts and she’s wonderful.”

Coryo stiffened at the mention of Lucy Gray. “Lucy Gray is special. She’s not like the others. And she’s not from the districts. She’s Covey.” He clarified.

“If you say so,” you sighed, not wanting to argue. “Well, if we both survive, we’ll see each other in twenty years.”

Coryo fell silent at your words. You could sense something was troubling him.

“What’s bothering you, Coryo?” you asked, your gaze fixed on him. “And don’t lie to me. I can tell when something’s wrong.”

He hesitated, then spoke with a voice heavy with regret. “It’s just the thought that you’ll move on, have a family, and live a life without me. I won’t be part of it.”

Your heart ached at his words. “Oh, Coryo, you’ll always be part of my life. I’ll think of you every single day until my last breath.” You assured him.

Coryo’s eyes met yours with a mix of sadness and longing. “I won’t be the man who gives you children, who makes you the First Lady of Panem. I won’t be part of your future.”

The though of not having something that was rightfully his infuriated him.

At his words you were shook to your core. A pregnant silence followed.

As he spoke, you realized that your feelings for him—feelings you had tried to ignore—might not have been unrequited after all. The lingering touches and secret glances were not merely figments of your imagination.

Coryo was looking at you with a tenderness that spoke of deep, unspoken emotions.

Guided by an unknown force, you leaned closer, your breaths mingling. Your faces were inches apart, and then his lips were gently brushing against yours.

What began as a soft touch quickly turned into a passionate, fervent kiss. It was a culmination of all the emotions, fears, and unspoken words of the day. Coryo’s hands cradled your face with a tenderness that spoke of how much you meant to him.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you kissed him with the intensity of knowing that this might be the last time you ever could.

After what felt like an eternity, you pulled back, both of you panting heavily. You embraced each other tightly, laying your head on his chest.

The silence between you was filled with everything that words could not express. Goodbye, I love you, I don’t want to lose you—each emotion was conveyed in that single, passionate kiss.

As you closed your eyes, trying to drift off to sleep despite the circumstances, you were acutely aware of every precious moment with Coryo.

You ignored the time and your parents’ warning, finding solace in his arms. His breathing eventually slowed to a steady rhythm, and you found comfort in his presence.

The pale moonlight streaming through the cracks in the wall was the only witness to this intimate moment between two young lovers facing an uncertain future.

Coryo’s arms remained around you, their embrace a fragile anchor amidst the turmoil.

As sleep threatened to overtake you, a profound sadness washed over you. You wished for a reality where everything had turned out differently—where Casca Highbottom’s cruelty hadn’t shattered your dreams. The future you had imagined with Coryo seemed to slip further away with each passing second.

In the dead of night, you whispered the truth that would haunt you forever, “You’re the loss of my life, Coriolanus Snow.”

© COPYRIGHT BELQVA 2024

SHARING THIS, ANY OF MY OTHER WORKS OR A TRANSLATION OF THEM WITHOUT CONSENT ON THIS OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN !!!

THE PLOT OF THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS DO NOT BELONG TO ME THIS IS JUST A WORK OF FANFICTION !!!

tags:

[lucygxybaird]

i've just a seen a face, i can't forget the time or place where we just met. she's just the girl for me, and i want all the world to see we've met. had it been another day, i might have looked the other way, and i'd have never been aware. but as it is, i'll dream of her tonight. (i've just seen a face - the beatles) Billy treats his mother to a night of live music, thinking she deserves to have a little bit of fun. He doesn't expect to meet a sweet, scintillating songbird named Lucy Gray Baird.

“Oh, Billy, I’m not sure about this—”

Kathleen McCarty hesitates on the threshold of the saloon, her hand tucked into the crook of Billy’s arm as though to restrain him from going inside. The double doors are thrown open to catch the hint of spring in the air, musing spilling out into the street along with the lamplight. It’s already crowded, a band going full swing on a makeshift stage at the back of the cavernous room. The dance floor is so packed that Billy can only catch a glimpse of an elbow here, a swirl of a skirt there, a tip of a hat or tap of a boot. 

He desperately wants to go in.

Billy offers his mother an encouraging smile. “Ma, come on, it’ll be fun. Please? Please? We won’t stay for very long, I promise,” he says, unabashedly wheedling. “Just a song or two. You deserve to have some fun.”

God knows that’s true. Between working herself to the bone, taking care of him and Joe, and dealing with Antrim’s special sort of bullshit, Kathleen doesn’t have any time for herself. And Billy remembers well how much she and his father used to love to dance. “I’ll ask the band if they know any Irish folk tunes,” he adds, grinning, and his expression only brightens when Kathleen smiles back at him. 

“Oh, well,” she says. “Alright. But only a song or two, do you hear?” She pauses. “Do you think the band knows Téir Abhaile Riú?”

Billy laughs, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll ask,” he says again. “Come on.”

He leads his mother inside, just as the band finishes their song. The young woman standing in center stage beams, and Billy thinks he actually feels his heart flutter for a second. She’s tiny — standing in her heeled boots, she may not even come up to his shoulder, although it’s hard to tell with her standing up there — but she exudes a blaze of energy, drawing the eye the way a fork of lightning will steal all eyes from the stars. 

“Thank you, thank you!” She spreads her arms wide as if to embrace the whole room. “My name is Lucy Gray Baird, we’re the Covey, and I promise, we’ll be right back after we wet our whistles for just a minute or two.”

She jumps down with the light, easy grace of a deer bounding through the woods, landing right in front of him. Billy is aware of the other members of the band — there’s a flash of blonde curls, the impossibly sharp angle of an elbow that can only belong to a teenage boy going through a growth spurt, and a young woman hauling a bass at her side — but he can’t take his eyes off Lucy Gray. When she smiles at him, his own smile is tugged from him as naturally as the moon pulling the tides toward shore.

“I think those might be the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, but it’s hard to tell with that hat hanging over your face,” she says. “Let me check.”

Reaching up, Lucy Gray actually picks his hat up off his head, holding it down by her side like it belongs to her. She tilts her head, wrinkling her nose as though considering the depth of color on his eyes. “Yep,” she says, putting the hat firmly back on for him. “Blue, just like I thought. Maybe the bluest. Definitely the prettiest.”

Billy, trying to cover the fact that he’s now blushing furiously, says: “Why don’t I buy you a drink for getting it right?” 

Lucy Gray smiles at him again. “What would I have gotten for being wrong?”

“A drink,” Billy says, and she laughs. 

She leads the way toward the bar, and slips onto the stool, swinging her booted feet idly. Billy slides onto the stool next to hers, waving down the bartender. “Whiskey,” he says. “And—”

He looks over at Lucy Gray. She raises an eyebrow, grinning up at him. “A whiskey for me, too, sugar.”

As the bartender pours them each a drink, Billy touches the brim of his hat, nodding at her. She giggles. “My name is Billy,” he says. “I brought my ma in to hear the music.”

He looks over at Kathleen, who has found a table near the door. She waves at him, and he waves back. Lucy Gray wiggles her fingers, blowing Kathleen a kiss. “I can see where you get those lovely eyes of yours from,” she says, propping her chin on the heel of her palm. 

She picks up her glass and takes a long sip, closing her eyes as if in pleasure. He watches the way her long, dark eyelashes flutter, how her lips purse on the rim of the glass. All of a sudden, he’s desperately thirsty in a way whiskey won’t fix, but he downs half his own order in one go anyway. 

Before he even has a chance to ask if she knows any Irish tunes, Lucy Gray says: “Does your ma wanna hear anything special?”

When Billy makes his request, she smiles and hops down from her stool. “You bring her right up front,” she says. “We’ll sing just for her.” 

Billy grins at her and crosses the room to his mother, as the band starts to gather up on stage again. “Come on, Ma,” he says, offering her his hand. “Lucy Gray says they’ll play your song.”

“Oh, Lucy Gray’s her name, is it?” Kathleen is smiling at him in the certain way all mothers have when they believe their children to be acting especially endearing. “I could see you two talking over there. She’s rather pretty.”

“Ma,” Billy groans softly, feeling more grateful than he can express in words that Lucy Gray is up on stage, in conversation with the willowy bass player, and she can’t possibly hear this conversation. Otherwise he would just have to hope for a very singular sinkhole to open up at his feet and swallow him whole. “We were just — I mean, I’m sure she has a…”

The words haven’t even left his mouth and already he finds them upsetting. Lucy Gray having a beau has only occurred to him just now, and he finds himself looking around the room, trying to find a a man young enough for her — one sitting alone, maybe, eyes trained on the stage like he can’t bear to look away. But it looks like every man here (apart from Billy himself) is too old, or with someone, or both. He relaxes a little. 

They find a place in front of the stage. Lucy Gray catches his eye, and she winks at him. Billy feels his face flush and wonders if the pink in his cheeks is visible with the lights of the stage shining in her eyes. 

“Oh, no, I saw the way she was looking at you,” Kathleen says, patting his arm. “If she’s seeing someone, she won’t be by the end of the evening, I’ll warrant.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but then music starts to tumble from the stage like a living thing -- drums gamboling and fiddles stepping lightly through the air, the strumming of a guitar twirling after them. Lucy Gray is standing center stage again, keeping time with a hand at her hip. 

“Look how the lights of the town, the lights of the town are shining now — tonight I’ll be dancing around, I’m off on the road to Galway now…” 

She steps lightly forward, arms sweeping in a graceful circle as her feet tap on the boards, the hem of her skirt belling outward as she twirls. He watches her light up from the inside out, beaming, eyes gleaming. 

“Look how she’s off on the town, she’s off on a search for sailors, though. There’s fine fellas here to be found, she’s never been on to stay at home—”

The bass player and the girl with blonde ringlets framing her face like a nimbus of gold lean forward, adding their voices to hers. 

“Home you’ll go and it’s there you’ll stay, and you’ll work to do in the morning. Give up your dreams of going away, forget your sailors in Galway.”

All the members of the band join in for the chorus, stamping their feet to the rhythm of the Irish tune. Kathleen is positively beaming at Billy’s side, clapping her hands in time. He keeps stealing glances at her in between drinking in Lucy Gray’s performance, thinking that he can’t remember the last time he’s seen his mother so happy. 

“Téir abhaile riú, tèir abhaile riu — téir abhaile ríu, Mherai, téir abhaile riú gus fan sa bhaile — mar tá do mhargadh déanta…”

The crowd around them has started to pair off, letting the fast, heady rush of the music carry them around the floor. Billy turns to his mother, grinning and holding out his hand once more — but before he can take it, he hears a light clatter of boots and turns to see Lucy Gray, grinning widely herself. She bobs a curtsey to Kathleen and puts out her own hand, beckoning encouragingly. 

“Come now and follow me down, down to the lights of Galway where there’s fine sailors walking the town, and waiting to meet the ladies there…”

He expects his mother to demure, huddle against him, but instead, she puts her hand in Lucy Gray’s like she’s known the girl all her life. Lucy Gray doesn’t miss a beat as the two girls left on stage carry on the tune. 

“Watch now, he’ll soon be along — he’s finer than any sailor, so, come now and pick up your spoons. He’s waiting to hear you play them, whoo!”

Billy can’t stop himself from laughing from sheer joy and pleasure as he watches the years fall away from his ma, her dark curls flying away from her face, her eyes brightening and her feet just as light as her partner’s twinkling toes. Lucy Gray is laughing even as she sings, the sweetness of her voice warming with ripples of joy. 

“Here today and she’s gone tomorrow, and next she’s going to Galway. Jiggin’ around and off to town, and won’t be back until the morning.”

He’s aware of a flash of yellow from the corner of his eye, and he looks down to see the little blonde singer, putting out her hands to him. Billy bows, one hand over his heart and the other folding behind his back, and the girl smiles up at him. He takes her by the hand and they whirl onto the floor, finding themselves by Lucy Gray and his mother. 

“Téir abhaile riú, tèir abhaile riu — téir abhaile ríu, Mherai, téir abhaile riú gus fan sa bhaile — mar tá do mhargadh déanta…”

He realizes, with a kick to his heart, that his ma is singing along. He can’t remember the last time he’s heard her sing, or even hum. Idly, picking up the girl and spinning around with her in his arms, he thinks he’ll have to ask his mother what the Gaelic chorus means. 

“Off with a spring in my step, the sailors are searching Galway for a young lady such as myself, for reels and jigs and maybe more…”

Lightly, with no signal at all except a flick of Lucy Gray’s dark head, she darts to one side and Billy’s partner to the other, with the blonde taking Kathleen’s hand and twirling under her arm. Kathleen laughs, and Lucy Gray snatches up Billy’s hands, tugging him closer. 

“Stay here and never you mind the lights of the town are blinding you. The sailors, they come and they go, but listen to what’s reminding you — handsome men surrounding you, dancing a reel around you…”

Singing of handsome men, Lucy Gray leans up on her toes, her lips at his ear, as if the words are just for him. He turns his head to hide his grin, but he catches a glimpse of her dark eyes, and he knows that she saw. It doesn’t really burn him, this idea. It doesn’t burn him at all, actually. 

“Home you’ll go and it’s there you’ll stay, and you’ve got work to do in the morning. Give up your dream of going away, forget your sailors in Galway…”

Billy knows most of the people on the dance floor, by sight if not by name — the old woman who works at the inn where they stayed when they first arrived in town; the owner of the Chinese laundry and his wife, neither of whom he’s seen smile this wide before; his mother’s friend Hattie, who is clasped in the arms of—

“Mr. Upson, is that you?” Billy calls to him over the music, unable to keep from laughing again. 

Mr. Upson just grins at him and frees a hand from Hattie’s waist to tip his hat toward Billy. 

“Téir abhaile riú, tèir abhaile riu — téir abhaile ríu, Mherai, téir abhaile riú gus fan sa bhaile — mar tá do mhargadh déanta…”

As Billy turns again, Lucy Gray still grasping his hands like she’ll never let go, she leans back on her heels. He whirls her around, easy as you please; she’s light as a feather, and in any case, he would sooner drop an anvil on his foot than drop this girl right now. 

“Listen to the music flow, I’m falling for the flow of home. I’m home to dance til dawning…”

Her voice warms him from the inside out, song flowing from her lips like the finest of wines, and he knows he’s not the only one getting drunk on the sound of her. Everyone, his mother included, is flushed with exertion and a giddy happiness that drives the years and their troubles away like the gentle mornings of spring driving away all thought of winter’s chill. 

“Téir abhaile riú, tèir abhaile riu — téir abhaile ríu, Mherai, téir abhaile riú gus fan sa bhaile — mar tá do mhargadh déanta…”

Lucy Gray keeps one of his hands in hers and reaches for other for Kathleen, who is still dancing with the tiny blonde singer. Kathleen grabs onto Lucy Gray’s hand, looking up at Billy with starlight still caught in her eyes; Billy, for the first time in his life, understands how one can cry for joy. It’s like he’s so happy that he can’t contain it, a sweet ache that starts in his chest and spreads upwards, until his throat is tight and the corners of his eyes sting. Still, he wouldn’t trade the decision to come in here tonight for anything in the world. 

For more reason than one. 

“Stay a while and we’ll dance together now, as the light is falling. We’ll reel away til the break of day, and dance together till morning…”

The blonde girl reaches for Mr. Upson’s hand, and on his other side, Hattie reaches for someone else. Soon the dancers on the floor have formed a ring, whirling around in a feverish, excited circle, as the song plunges toward the chorus one last time. 

“Téir abhaile riú, tèir abhaile riu — téir abhaile ríu, Mherai, téir abhaile riú gus fan sa bhaile — mar tá do mhargadh déanta…”

As the Covey members still up onstage bring the song to an end with a flourish, Lucy Gray jumps nimbly back onto the boards, twirling around and spreading her hands. Kathleen ends up pressed against Billy’s side, giggling like a girl, her hair a mess and her smile firmly fixed on her face. Billy puts an arm around his mother’s shoulders to steady her as the crowd collects itself enough to burst into rapturous applause.

“Thank you! Thank you for comin’ out tonight, and joinin’ me in our final song—!”

The crowd groans, Billy included. Kathleen digs an elbow into his ribs. 

“—for tonight!” Lucy Gray insists. “For tonight. I promise y’all, we’re not goin’ anywhere just yet. In case you forgot, I’m Lucy Gray Baird, we’re the Covey, and I swear, we’ll be back to sing for you soon!”

Billy guides his mother over to the bar, the better to escape the crush of people as they start to leave. It seems that with the Covey done for the evening, most of the crowd is done, too. A few stragglers follow them to the bar and occupy the stools, but a few moments later, the place is nearly empty. 

“Ready to go?” Billy says, putting a hand on the small of Kathleen’s back, ready to guide her out. 

Instead of answering him, she flicks her dark blue gaze to the side of him, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll wait for you at the door,” she says, and Billy turns to see Lucy Gray standing at his side, looking up at him with a scrap of paper peeking between her fingertips.  

“Your ma is quite the dancer,” she says, and Billy chuckles. “So are you.”

“Oh, well, thank you.” He tips his hat to her again, and she bobs her head in response. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen Ma like that. It’s been…” He falters, thinking of how she used to be, before Pa died. He pulls a smile onto his face from somewhere deep. “It’s been a while.”

Lucy Gray surprises him by taking his hand and squeezing it lightly, once, before letting go. She doesn’t pry, but she says, “Well, you two should come back sometime.” 

Before he can say they (sure as hell) will, a voice calls out from the back room: “Lucy Gray! We’ve leaving!”

She smiles and leans up to kiss his cheek. “Maude Ivory,” she says. “Your little dance partner.” She puts a hand to her mouth and adds in a stage whisper, “She thinks you’re cute. So do I.”

With Billy befuddled and blushing, she turns to go, crossing the room in light, graceful strides. As she disappears through a curtained door by the bar, Billy feels the whisper of paper against his palm and turns his hand over. He smiles at the note she’s passed him. 

If you want to see me before our next show (Thursday, 8 p.m.), meet me at the meadow by the old Willow Ford farm tomorrow night. I like to watch the stars come out. 

- Lucy Gray Baird.

He isn’t sure what compels to do it, but he finds himself lifting the scrap of paper to his lips and kissing her signature on the page, before slipping it into his pocket. Billy goes to join his mother at the door, and he barely registers the way she’s looking at him with that indulgent little smile on her face. He walks her home in a sort of daze, thinking that the sun has only just now set, and he can’t wait for it to do it again tomorrow. 

The next time the sun goes down, and the stars start to twinkle in their sea of indigo velvet, he knows that’s when he’ll see her again. 

[lucysgraybird]

pairing: billy the kid x lucy gray baird

warnings: none

a/n: something silly i wrote a bit ago for my first post :)

"You writin' something new?” Billy asks, dropping a kiss on Lucy Gray's head as he walks in. He smells dusty, like hay and leather and sweat.

"Just messin’ around," she says, and looks up from her guitar. "Hat off in the house, honey."

With a smile and a glint in his eye, he doffs his hat to her, playing for a moment at a polite society neither of them have ever been privy to. Lucy Gray grins and curtseys to him as well as she can sitting with a guitar in her lap. It amounts to nothing more than a crossing of the ankles and a bowed head, but it's enough for their game of pretend to go sailing out the window as Billy places the hat on her head and goes scurrying off to the kitchen, his laugh echoing through the small house.

"Oh!" Lucy Gray shouts, because the brim has fallen over her eyes.

She knocks it back and goes chasing after her cowboy. Almost certain that she heard him laughing in the kitchen, she starts there, but it's empty.

"Billy?" She peers into the adjoining rooms, watching the shadows for any movement. It's not easy for him to hide, tall as he is, but he manages it. "Billy, come out or I'm going to keep your hat. I think it looks better on me."

Silence for a moment, then in a blink she's being whisked into an embrace by some unseen hand. Big blue eyes stare down at her, bright as the morning sky.

"I thought there were no hats in the house," Billy teases, flicking the leather brim.

Lucy Gray gasps in mock-offence. "Well, maybe I'm changin’ the rule for me."

"Just for you, huh?"

"Maybe!"

He dips down to kiss her, long and slow and deep. At some point the hat falls off her head and he catches it against her back without missing a beat. When he pulls away, she is, like always, breathless.

With a final peck to the corner of her mouth, he says, "Looks like the rule will stand for everyone," and sets his hat on the sideboard they built together when they moved in.

Something in Lucy Gray's chest soars, a warmth to rival the setting summer sun. It's so silly and simple, but the way he can draw joy out of her – the way it seems to be his one goal, actually – is what she always imagined romance to be. She's had a couple failures, because who hasn't, but one astounding success is more than most will ever get and hers, in her opinion, makes every misstep worth it.

[tomkeirblyth]

William H Bonney x Lucy Gray Baird

[slutforsnow]

UPDATED PLS READ 🫶🏼

Masterlist

Intro: hi I'm Alastor/Vox/Lucifer. I'm 18, biracial, and my prns are he/ghost/it and maybe will write smut (I'm greyace)

Fandoms (currently): Hazbin Hotel, Billy the Kid, & The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes/The Hunger Games

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED :]

Feel free to talk in my asks tho :3

Billy the Kid Masterlist

TBOSB&S Masterlist

Writing for;

Billy the Kid (2022 TV show)

Coriolanus Snow (young obviously)

Lucy Gray

Sejanus Plinth

Alastor

Vox

Lucifer Morningstar

Charlie Morningstar

Vaggie

Sera

Emily

Cherri

Sir Pentious

Angel Dust

Velvette

Carmilla

Zestial

Rosie

more to come!

✨️Questions✨️

Requests?

Of course!! Ask away!!

Any race?

Yes, ofc!! Even if I have no idea about the culture, ill do research and ask some people to help me learn their history!!

Any au?

Anything except for stepcest/incest, SA, abuse, or anything borderline, just no! I may do dark fics, but that's a high, maybe!!

Ageless blogs?

I prefer for you to have your age in your bio or pinned, but if you're 16+, I don't mind you being here!

Constructive criticism?

SO FUCKING APPRECIATED!!

Male/male aligned readers or gender neutral readers?

YES!!! I NEVER SEE MALE/GENDER NEUTRAL READERS HERE 😭 (I'm also bigender [transmasc and genderfluid] so yall deserve to have fics for you too💚

Tags: @etfrin @hearts4court @snows-wife @delusionalbunni @kiraflowersworld @victory-scream0462 @curled-hair-red-lips @morallygrayboys @phoward89 @xoxo-eyeballs @thereeallink @graciouslyc @acidaciruela @wanda-maximoff-enthusiast @firstworldproblemthings

[phefics]

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞. ophelia. early twenties. she/they. multi-fandom. horror enthusiast, cozy gamer, swiftie & daughter of cain. here to indulge in my slutty fictional fantasies.

𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬. do not copy or repost my fics, or feed them to ai. do not follow me if you are under 18. only send requests when i am accepting them & respect my boundaries. read my rules before sending. most importantly: be nice!!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 | 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 | 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 (𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰)

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬. (𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐬)

baldur's gate 3. astarion; karlach; shadowheart

criminal minds. aaron hotchner; derek morgan; emily prentiss; jennifer jareau; penelope garcia; spencer reid

death note. l lawliet; light yagami; misa amane

fear street trilogy. cindy berman; deena johnson; kate schmidt; samantha fraser; simon kalivoda; ziggy berman.

five nights at freddy's. mike schmidt; steve raglan/william afton.

grey's anatomy. addison montgomery; cristina yang; george o'malley; meredith grey.

grishaverse. alina starkov. inej ghafa. jesper fahey. kaz brekker. nina zenik.

harry potter. blaise zabini; cedric diggory; draco malfoy; fred weasley; george weasley; harry potter; hermione granger; ginny weasley; luna lovegood; nymphadora tonks; theodore nott.

miscellaneous. dean winchester (supernatural); kurt kunkle (spree); luke castellan (percy jackson); riff (west side story). roman roy (succession). ryan (thanksgiving 2023). stiles stilinski (teen wolf). sweeney todd (sweeney todd).

saltburn. felix catton; oliver quick

scream. billy loomis; sidney prescott; stu macher

spider-verse. hobie brown; miguel o'hara; peter parker (tasm)

stardew valley. abigail; alex; haley; harvey; leah; maru; penny; sam; sebastian.

stranger things. chrissy cunningham; eddie munson; jim hopper; nancy wheeler; robin buckley; steve harrington.

the hunger games. coriolanus snow; finnick odair; gale hawthorne; haymitch abernathy; johanna mason; katniss everdeen; lucy gray baird; peeta mellark; sejanus plinth; tigris snow.

𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬.

yes. afab!reader. aus. biting. bondage. choking. degradation. edging. fem!reader. fluff. foot fetish. gender-neutral!reader. hickies. overstimulation. praise. scratching. sex toys. smut. spanking. threesomes. tickling.

maybe. amab!reader. angst. blood-play. “daddy” as a title. dub-con. knife-play. male!reader. parenthood. pregnancy. specific aesthetic for reader. watersports.

no. age-play (sexual or non-sexual). cheating. eating disorders. f!receiving anal. gun-play. incest/step-cest. pedophilia. rape/non-con. scat. vomit.

[cowboyandasongbird]

there i was again tonight. forcing laughter, faking smiles. same old tired, lonely place. walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy vanished when i saw your face– all i can say is, it was enchanting to meet you. | a cowboy and his songbird. william h. bonney & lucy gray baird.

[saberlight1]

— who i write for

disclaimer: most of my stories are fem!reader, but i will write gender neutral, just let me know. i write angst, fluff, and smut. i am a bisexual female, so i will write about both female and male characters. i am mostly comfortable with writing anything, so don’t be afraid to send in whatever you’d like. my inbox is always open for anything, you can write your thoughts on characters, shows or movies, or my works! much love!

masterlist

supernatural —

dean winchester

sam winchester

castiel

the hunger games —

peeta mellark

finnick odair

katniss everdeen

coriolanus snow

lucy gray baird

tigris snow

johanna mason

billy the kid —

billy bonney

jesse evans

harry potter —

remus lupin

sirius black

james potter

lily potter

bellatrix lestrange

blaise zabini

tom riddle

regulus black

yellowjackets —

lottie matthews

natalie scatorccio

taissa turner

shauna shipman

van palmer

travis martinez

jackie taylor

red dead redemption —

arthur morgan

sadie adler

john marston

charles smith

karen jones

star wars —

anakin skywalker

padme amidala skywalker

ahsoka tano

luke skywalker

leia organa skywalker

the last of us —

ellie williams

joel miller

tess servopoulos

dina phantasmagoria

jesse jeon

the walking dead —

maggie rhee

rick grimes

daryl dixon

shane walsh

michonne grimes

glenn rhee

rosita espinosa

negan smith

tara chambers

king ezekiel

sasha williams

magna

marvel —

wanda maximoff

pietro maximoff

natasha romanoff

yelena belova

bucky barnes

tony stark

scott lang

steve rogers

frank castle

bruce banner

ava ‘ghost’ starr

loki laufeyson

king valkyrie

sam wilson

marc spector

steven grant

layla abdallah el-faouly

matt murdock

miles morales

miguel o’hara

hobie brown

carol danvers

peter parker

gamora zen titan

peggy carter

king t’challa

game of thrones / house of the dragon —

daemon targaryen

rhaenyra targaryen

laena velaryon

jon snow

harwin strong

alicent hightower

sansa stark

helaena targaryen

criston cole

jacaerys velaryon

daenerys targaryen

euphoria —

rue bennett

jules vaughn

elliot hill

lexi howard

fezco o’neill

maddy perez

chris mckay

daisy jones and the six —

daisy jones

warren rhodes

graham dunne

eddie loving

camila dunne

karen sirko

outer banks —

jj maybank

john b routledge

kiara carrera

pope heyward

sarah cameron

cleo grant

shameless —

carl gallagher

fiona gallagher

lip gallagher

veronica fisher

kevin balls

svetlana yevgenivna

more to come!

[lucygxybaird]

bonneybaird preview

i've just seen a face, i can't forget the time or place where we just met. she's just the girl for me and i want all the world to see we've met. had it been another day, i might have looked the other way and i'd have never been aware. but as it is, i'll dream of her tonight. (i've just seen a face - the beatles)

“Oh, Billy, I’m not sure about this—”

Kathleen McCarty hesitates on the threshold of the saloon, her hand tucked into the crook of Billy’s arm as though to restrain him from going inside. The double doors are thrown open to catch the hint of spring in the air, musing spilling out into the street along with the lamplight. It’s already crowded, a band going full swing on a makeshift stage at the back of the cavernous room. The dance floor is so packed that Billy can only catch a glimpse of an elbow here, a swirl of a skirt there, a tip of a hat or tap of a boot. 

He desperately wants to go in.

Billy offers his mother an encouraging smile. “Ma, come on, it’ll be fun. Please? Please? We won’t stay for very long, I promise,” he says, unabashedly wheedling. “Just a song or two. You deserve to have some fun.”

God knows that’s true. Between working herself to the bone, taking care of him and Joe, and dealing with Antrim’s special sort of bullshit, Kathleen doesn’t have any time for herself. And Billy remembers well how much she and his father used to love to dance. “I’ll ask the band if they know any Irish folk tunes,” he adds, grinning, and his expression only brightens when Kathleen smiles back at him. 

“Oh, well,” she says. “Alright. But only a song or two, do you hear?” She pauses. “Do you think the band knows Téir Abhaile Riú?”

Billy laughs, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll ask,” he says again. “Come on.”

He leads his mother inside, just as the band finishes their song. The young woman standing in center stage beams, and Billy thinks he actually feels his heart flutter for a second. She’s tiny — standing in her heeled boots, she may not even come up to his shoulder, although it’s hard to tell with her standing up there — but she exudes a blaze of energy, drawing the eye the way a fork of lightning will steal all eyes from the stars. 

[lucysgraybird]

blog navigation

she/they, queer • 19

asks/requests are open • dms are open

who i write for:

billy the kid (btk on mgm+)

coriolanus snow (tbosas)

lucy gray baird (tbosas)

alex nilsen (pwmov)

≿————-　❈　————-≾

MASTERLISTS

billy the kid

lucy gray baird

coriolanus snow

[ronweasleyisourking]

The most likely characters in the original trilogy to be related to the covey, in my opinion, is Gale's family and in this post, I will explain my theory, using etymology.

The Importance of Names

In the covey, each character has a two-part given name and a surname, each with specific importance. This follows the traditions of both Appalachian and Romani people, who the Covey are based off of.

The first name is after a ballad. Lucy Gray is after "Lucy Gray" by William Wordsworth. Barb Azure is named for Child Ballad 84, "Bonny Barbara Allen"; Tam Amber and Clerk Carmine are also named after Child Ballads (39 and 42). Maude Ivory is named for "Maude Clare" by Christina Rosetti. Billy Taupe may have been for "Billy in the Darbies" by Herman Melville or "The Ballad of Billy the Kid" by Billy Joel, or possibly both. While not all these characters' stories take as much inspiration from their ballads as that of Lucy Gray and while no character in the covey should be called simply by this first name, it is still important.

The reason no character should be called by their first name only is because the second name is the one that truly connects them to their community - and loved ones may even use just this second name as a nickname/term of endearment. Lucy Gray was named for the gray of winter, Maude Ivory for the ivory of the piano, and Barb Azure for the serene color of the sky. Second names should never go unmentioned because doing so separates the character from their community.

The surname is after profession. Baird is for bard.

Where do the Hawthornes come in?

First, I should mention that I believe that Gale is related to the covey through his mother, not his father, so the name "Hawthorne" will not be brought up.

Hazelle Hawthorne is Gale's mother, and her name within the books is just that: "Hazelle". Perhaps, having the name of a color is not enough to connect her to the covey but it sure is interesting. Was the tradition of two names lost before her birth? Or is she referred to as Hazelle because that is Katniss, a girl she is practically family with, knows her as such? I have some ideas for the ballad that she could be named after, though nothing will ever be set in stone, but I do like the name "Hazelle" for her. The color seems to emit so much warmth and comfort, as does her character in the books.

As for her children, it is clear that the traditions of the covey have died by now, but I still see significance in their names. Gale is a word commonly associated with old tales and ballads, a specific one being Child Ballad 80, "Old Robin of Portingale". The word also has meanings associated with madness and extremism, but also with nature, i.e. gale-force winds. The covey was particularly fond of nature and often they are named in relation to it. Rory is a name that means "red king" or simply red, which follows the once traditional second names of the covey. Vick could either be the Old French occupational name meaning "bishop" and if this were Hazelle's maiden name, it implies a perhaps her family had a religious role within the covey, or it could refer to Victory, a common theme in many ballads. Posy is another nature name, after the bouquets, however it is quite interesting because posies have at times been used to send secret messages - was her name an act of rebellion? Was Hazelle already invested in the idea of rebellion at the time of Posy's birth? And what group within Didtruct 12 would be most interested in rebellion after the death of Lucy Gray?

While there is no way to confirm it, I am convinced that Hazelle and her children are related to the covey. And it doesn't even mean that Katniss cannot be related to Maude Ivory. After all. Her and Gale are "cousins", right? 😂😂

[urloveada]

shows and the characters i will write! જ⁀➴

(this will be updated)

THE HUNGER GAMES

KATNISS EVERDEEN

PEETA MELLARK

FINNICK ODAIR

JOHANNA MASON

HAYMITCH ABERNATHY

LUCY GRAY BAIRD

(YOUNG) CORIOLANUS SNOW

THE LAST OF US

ELLIE WILLIAMS (female c or reader only)

JOEL MILLER

TOMMY MILLER

DINA

JESSE

ABBY ANDERSON

DEAD BOY DETECTIVES

EDWIN PAYNE (male c or reader only)

CHARLES ROWLAND

CRYSTAL PALACE

CAT KING (male c or reader only)

NIKO

YOU

JOE GOLDBERG

RHYS MONTROSE

LOVE QUINN

(more specific characters must be requested, see rules for requesting !!)

THE WALKING DEAD

RICK GRIMES

DARYL DIXON

NEGAN SMITH

GLENN RHEE

CARL GRIMES

MAGGIE RHEE

MICHONNE GRIMES

ROSITA ESPINOSA

(more specific characters must be requested, see rules for requesting !!)

STRANGER THINGS

STEVE HARRINGTON

NANCY WHEELER

JONATHAN BYERS

EDDIE MUNSON

BILLY HARGROVE

ROBIN BUCKLEY (female c or reader only)

JOYCE BYERS

JIM HOPPER

(more specific characters must be requested, see rules for requesting !!)

BRIDGERTON

COLIN BRIDGERTON

BENEDICT BRIDGERTON

ANTHONY BRIDGERTON

DAPHNE BRIDGERTON

PENELOPE FEATHERINGTON

SIMON BASSET

KATE SHARMA

(YOUNG) KING GEORGE

(YOUNG) QUEEN CHARLOTTE

(more specific characters must be requested, see rules for requesting !!)

UNTIL DAWN

SAMANTHA GIDDINGS (SAM)

MICHEAL MUNROE (MIKE)

ASHLEY BROWN (ASH)

CHRISTOPHER HARTLEY (CHRIS)

EMILY DAVIS (EM)

MATTHEW TAYLOR (MATT)

JESSICA RILEY (JESS)

JOSHUA WASHINGTON (JOSH)

SUITS

MIKE ROSS

HARVEY SPECTER

DONNA PAULSON

(more specific characters must be requested, see rules for requesting !!)

911 / 911 LONESTAR

BOBBY NASH

ATHENA GRANT

EVAN BUCKLEY

TOMMY KINARD

EDDIE DIAZ

HOWIE HAN (CHIM)

HENRIETTA WILSON (female c or reader only)

OWEN STRAND

TK STRAND (male c or reader only)

CARLOS REYES (male c or reader only)

JUDSON RYDER

TOMMY VEGA

GRACE RYDER

MARJAN MARWANI

PAUL STRICKLAND

MATEO CHAVEZ

(more specific characters must be requested, see rules for requesting !!)

!!

[billysgirllol]

“well, you can talk about her any time you’d like sugar.” lucy gray gently smiled, an extra sweetness in her voice. he can feel free to do that any moment his heart desired. “mhm, that’s right.” the songbird confirms, doe eyes becoming shyer and less confident at his hand tucking a curl of hers behind her ear. “i’ll keep callin’ you billy. billy’s cute.” it’s an adorable name, lucy gray thinks. william is beautiful but billy has an adorable tune to it. and it seems he prefers it, so she definitely will stick to that one. especially when she knew how it felt, she didn't like people just calling her lucy. it was alright once every now and then, but not a repeated type of thing. "lucy gray baird, now lucy gray antrim." it sounded a little odd, she admitted. but they couldn't choose their last names...or could they? "or might you be billy baird." a little teasing smile twitched her lips.

"yeah, you're right about that... we keep havin' them and we'll have enough for two bands– or entire orchestra." like he said. which made her laugh and nudge him back harder with her elbow. "there's surely a difference and don't roll your eyes at me. they're too pretty to bein' doin' something ugly." she guesses that's what she'll say when or if she actually has children of her own, when they give her attitude she'll tell them exactly that. "don't bite me either, you crazy dinosaur." she gently laughs, hurrying and pulling her hand back before another laugh escapes at his funny sound that she provokes from his throat. that's what he gets. "how could i go forgettin'? i birthed you right out in that field i found you in." amusement in her smile reached her honey gaze, holding the boy doll in her arm and looking down to pat daisy's head, "alright, i will. go ahead darlin'."

“makes  me  happy,  too,”  the  outlaw  admits  honestly,  struggling  to  refrain  from  reaching  out  and  tracing  the  curvature  of  her  plump  bottom  lip  with  his  calloused  thumb.  it’s  witchcraft,  he  reminds  himself,  the  way  her  smile  can  make  his  heart  skip  a  beat,  his  gaze  bashful  and  face  flushed.  “thank  you.  i  don’t  have  many  opportunities  to  talk  ‘bout  her  these  days.”  he  could  never  talk  to  jesse  about  his  grief  because  it  would  make  him  look  weak,  couldn’t  talk  to  alice  because  it  just  didn’t  feel  right,  sharing  sacred  parts  of  his  wounded  soul  with  her.  with  lucy  gray,  everything  is  different.  

being  praised,  he  offers  her  a  subtle  nod  of  acknowledgment  but  remains  silent  for  a  moment,  lost  in  thoughts  that  only  serve  to  stress  him  out  —  all  the  sudden,  the  mere  thought  of  starting  a  family  with  anyone  but  her  makes  him  feel  disappointed.  it’s  her  dainty  fingers,  curling  around  his  forearm,  that  draw  his  attention  back  to  her.  sky  blues  flicking  to  her  face,  a  sweet  smile  tugging  at  his  lips.  “guess  there’s  nothin’  wrong  ‘bout  that.  let  them  see  what  kind  of  effect  their  mama  has  on  their  dad,”  he  laughs,  tucking  a  stubborn  curl  behind  her  ear  before  focusing  on  the  doll  again.  too  shy  to  keep  gazing  at  her  —  it’s  like  gazing  at  the  sun.

“mhm,  yeah,  but  everybody  just  calls  me  billy.”  and  he  hopes  she  does  the  same  thing.  william  sounds  too  official.  “you’re  not  the  only  mystery  under  this  roof,  mrs.  —  mrs.  antrim.”  now  that  doesn’t  sound  right  at  all,  he  thinks,  but  can’t  really  call  her  mrs.  bonney.  winking  at  her  as  his  smile  turns  playful,  eyes  twinkling  with  amusement  at  the  idea  of  joining  her  band.  “wouldn’t  that  be  something?  the  two  of  us  in  a  band  together.  we’ll  teach  daisy  and  baby  billy  how  to  play  different  instruments  once  they’re  old  enough.  oh,  and  if  we  keep  havin’  babies,  we’ll  have  an  entire  orchestra  of  our  own  one  day,”  he  can’t  help  but  laugh  along  with  her,  gently  nudging  her  with  his  elbow.  unable  to  keep  his  hands  to  himself.  he  just  wants  to  keep  touching  her,  in  the  most  innocent  way,  of  course.  “since  when  is  being  honest  considered  rude,  hm?  alright,  let’s  teach  our  littles  to  be  liars  instead.”  feigning  annoyance,  he  rolls  his  eyes  but  then  spots  her  finger  and  pretends  to  bite  it.  his  teeth  clamping  on  the  air  near  it.  “rightfully?  i  disagree.  if  i  remember  correctly,  i  was  here  first.  your  first  baby.”  large  hand  capturing  her  tiny  one  with  ease,  but  not  before  she  makes  his  side  sting  and  coaxes  a  squeak  out  of  him.  he  doesn’t  hold  her  hand  for  long,  but  it  still  makes  him  feel  all  tingly  inside,  awakening  something  deep  within  his  chest  that  he  didn’t  know  existed.  “you’re  such  a  good  baby,  daisy  baird  antrim.  are  you  hungry,  too?  mommy  will  sure  fix  you  a  bottle  once  we’re  done  with  all  this  clean  up,  alright?”  he  babbles  on,  running  the  cloth  between  the  doll’s  legs  as  if  he  really  was  wiping  a  baby’s  butt.  he  repeats  the  motion  several  times,  making  sure  she’s  clean  before  taking  the  clean  diaper  from  lucy  gray  and  slipping  in  onto  daisy.  “watch  her  for  a  second,  love?”  eyes  flickering  to  the  curly-haired  brunette  again,  smiling  because  seeing  her  cradle  a  baby  is  just  too  beautiful  of  a  sight,  “i’ll  throw  this  stinky  cloth  away  and  be  right  back.”