#miles is fifteen right? or sixteen?

[youhavereachedtheendofpie]

Yeah, you're right that that is what makes him interesting. I do think that as a character, he would be boring if he were "perfect" and I feel like he might come off as too righteous. I do think his trauma informs a lot of his character and it's so sad. Like so, so sad. I guess it's just frustrating from a modern context because I'm like, yo, you KNOW you're suffering. And you're hurting other people because of that. We're clearly only in the middle of the story and also as a person who had a bias towards Miles, I side-eye Miguel a lot, but that's personal lol. Like, very attractive man, absolutely trash personality currently going on lol. I think I really responded to Hobie's character a lot because deep down, beyond the rebelliousness, he was actually looking out for Miles and encouraging him to think for hinself and protect himself and others. Hobie sort of serves as a foil to Miguel and I find that dynamic interesting. There are definitely parts of Miguel I do like, though. Like, it's clear he really values family and while he comes across as curmudgeonly, he cares about Peter and Mayday and truly respects Jess. I just wish he could extend that to the younger people and I think he thinks he is doing that, in his own way, but his behavior really reminded me of like, unevolved, traumatized parents in real life, so my reaction to him was like, fuck off with that shit, man lol. It may just be me, but it's hard to separate some aspects of the characters because they seemed so intertwined. It's hard to separate duty and family. Like, Peter is sort of like another father figure to Miles, so he feel very betrayed when he finds out the truth of what's going on. Hobie was acting like a brother to Miles and Gwen. She saw Jess as a mentor and def wanted her to serve as a parent figure, though Jess was maintain boundaries around that. Like, they are heroes and have obligations but it's difficult to keep those dynamics separate. So when Miles comes to Miguel, hoping to connect with him and Miguel is an asshole and is all business, when there is a clear connection the Spider people have and everyone is acknoledging that, it was frustrating. But I'm curious to see what will happen in the next movie. I have the feeling Miguel and Gwen will fight, and I kinda wanna see that lol. It would be an interesting parallel to their first meeting.

combining both your asks into one for efficiency lol

we could probably go on talking about this until the next movie comes out, which is what makes it great C: there's just so much to discuss, so many angles, so many great characters <3

and of course it is very much the point that the characters can't see themselves from our vantage point as the audience. just like in your own life you are constrained by your own point of view and considering others requires an active effort on your own part. it doesn't just happen, you have to choose it

lol but I do love how it's essentially just

Miguel: nearly threw hands with a twelve-year-old 😑 Miles: what do you mean 'nearly'? also I'm fifteen 🤨

#pie replies #sry I went to bed last night and I only just got back from work + cinema #miles is fifteen right? or sixteen? #sry for memeing. I also think there will be fights. possibly not just between gwen and miguel

[theemporium]

you have been invited to cece's smutober event! pick a day and dive right in. but be warned of the spooky surprises you may encounter.

.

day one: steve harrington + dry humping day two: lando norris + phone sex day three: james potter + erotica day four: quinn hughes + car sex day five: charlos + free use day six: theo nott + humiliation day seven: dando + blindfold day eight: remus lupin + chocolate day nine: max verstappen + somnophilia day ten: luke hughes + cockwarming day eleven: lestappen + objectification day twelve: eddie munson + squirting day thirteen: poly!marauders + orgasm control day fourteen: daniel ricciardo + first time day fifteen: harry styles + filming day sixteen: jack hughes + thigh riding day seventeen: sebastian vettel + corruption day eighteen: steve harrington + breeding kink day nineteen: wolfstar + sex pollen day twenty: charles leclerc + aphrodisiac day twenty-one: sirius black + semi-public sex day twenty-two: carlando + seduction day twenty-three: trevor zegras + overstimulation day twenty-four: norstappen + mile high club day twenty-five: steddie + cuckholding day twenty-six: charlando + tit-fucking day twenty-seven: eddie munson + mastrubation day twenty-eight: maxiel + heat day twenty-nine: jack hughes and trevor zegras + intoxication day thirty: carlos sainz + manhandling day thirty-one: steddie + wet dream

.

logging off...

#cece's smutober #stranger things #marauders #f1 #nhl #stranger things x reader #marauders x reader #f1 x reader #nhl x reader #harry potter x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #steddie x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #wolfstar x reader #poly!marauders x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris x reader #max verstappen x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #quinn hughes x reader #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader #trevor zegras x reader #harry styles x reader #theo nott x reader

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

———

Whenever they drive into town, arguing over who sits where and spilling buckets of strawberries all over the floor, the music blasts so loudly on the horrible, tinny speakers that it vibrates the entire van, and still the group of them is so loud that the songs get drowned out anyway. It is especially worse if, Nico will admit, he and Chiara are in the front seats together, whatever argument they delight in having raising New York’s noise pollution levels by four percent at least. If there is enough fruit to warrant two vans, and all sixteen of them will go, they will race down the highway, drowning each other out with the pure force of their shrieking voices. People stare. Cars slow to a stop. Cars follow them, even, mouths open, wondering at these grinning, hollering fools, dressed in neon and crawling all over each other.

It has been a long time since Nico has driven in silence.

Even as a child there was noise. No radios in cars, yet, they’d hardly been invented, but he and Bianca would scarcely be within miles of each other without bickering. Crowded in the backseat of Nonno’s Alfa Romeo, shouting for Mama in between even every poked shoulder and shoved face, there was noise. In the backseat of Alecto’s SUV, too, muffled as it was, and in every car he raced at the Lotus. Even up front with Jules-Albert, there has always been something. Grumbling, usually, live Grand-Prix reporting if the season is right. Music if he is in a good mood and Nico can convince him.

The silence that rings from the coast of Long Island to the bridge over the Savannah River is unbearable. Even the van is unbelievably quiet, rusted shocks creakless and ancient engine quiet as a grave. As if it too is straining to hear the words Will is murmuring, over and over again, nonstop for hours; hunched over with his hands clasped and pressed to the bridge of his nose.

Nico knows the Lord’s prayer in five languages. He hasn’t spoken it in years, but it’s stuck in his brain the same way as the alphabet; he knows the rhythm, the place of every breath, the rise and fall of the words as they crest towards the heavens. Prayers go unanswered at the best of times, trickling down the soil and bedrock and gathering in the currents of the Styx, but Will prays like he is programmed to do it. Like it is all he has left to do. They leave in the grey peak of the afternoon and drive through the night, and the kids sleep in the back, and Will prays across the freeways, over the bridges, through the gas stations, straight through traffic. His voice scratches and fades and he does not stop, the tears roll down his cheeks and bubble into his mouth and he does not stop, the twisted-in hymns glow along every peek of sunlight, burning his throat and his hands, and he does not stop. He prays like the dying in line to be judged, like the weeping shades along the stone walkways of Asphodel, like the desolate on the bank of the River. He prays like he knows it is already over, and he is desperate for the strength to move forward.

When they pull into the parking lot it is late morning, and Nico has been driving for fifteen hours, and the sun is cowering behind black dirt stormclouds, and the heat is as oppressively constant as the Pit. Nico feels like he is standing at the mouth of something cavernous. Staring down sharp teeth and a maw the size of an island. He feels like he is teetering, balancing, tipping; like the single point on the ground moments before lightning strikes it. Close your eyes and hold out your hands. What is coming next is inescapable.

“Do we go in?”

Kayla’s voice is timid. It is never timid, and it jolts his obliques and abdominis into action, into stretching. She holds hands with her brother, and they are pressed shoulder to shoulder, eyes wide, mouths set brave and trembling,

and they are pressed shoulder to shoulder

eyes wide

mouths set brave and trembling

his ankle is twisted around hers

her skull ring knicks the flesh of his ring finger

her hands are cool

her voice is steady

her body shakes.

Where are you taking us? We would like to go home, please. Can we call our mother?

“Let’s go find Mama,” Nico hears himself say. Sees Will’s hands twitch. Watches Kayla flinch in the rearview. Feels Austin’s leg bounce the van.

His mouth feels like sand, like worn denim. Dry, desert sand, desert sand; Nevada air through the open window.

“Mama,” Will echoes. He chokes. His whole body shudders, shudders, compresses; shrinks down, mouth still moving. Knuckles white. “Mama.”

Nico swallows.

“Kayla,” says his mouth, “take your brother to go pay parking.” Take your brother inside. Wait for me; I’ll be back soon. Don’t leave the hotel. “Here.”

He hands her his father’s card, and she takes it, untangling from Austin but keeping their hands joined when he grabs for her. The van door wrenches open because the tracks are rusty and Nico jumps with it, exhaling past Kayla’s muttered apologies, waiting for the two of them to climb out and hurry across the asphalt. Huddle at the parking meter, poking at the button.

Nico opens his door and climbs out, shutting it carefully, walking calmly around the front of the van. He opens Will’s door and it doesn’t move, locked, so it waits, and when Will makes no move to pull the little lever he reaches around the door Kayla left open, pulling it himself. The door swings widely open, bouncing slightly on its hinges, and Will doesn’t so much as flinch, doesn’t so much as glance towards it.

Nico reaches out, slowly, and takes his clenched hands.

They’re wet.

He peels back his clenched fingers, one by one, and they are stiff, formed to shape. He takes a moment to straighten them, carefully, slowly, until his palms rest upwards again, fingers limp. When he presses their palms together Will’s fingers twitch, ever so slightly, around his, and he drags their hands up to his mouth and presses his knuckles to his lips, tasting the salt, tasting the iron of his cracked chapped skin. Will’s hand twitches, again, and his face matches; contorting and crumpling and breaking, for a second.

“Will,” he murmurs, salt like the coast, like Nonna’s villa, like the water slide, “Will, look at me.”

He does. He looks to him like he’s dragging himself like he is clawing his own way upright.

“I can’t again,” he croaks, “I —” and he stops, or rather he is cut off, by the sob that fights it’s way out of his throat. It is sharp like skull fragments. Some part of Nico bleeds.

“You won’t.” He drops Will’s hand and clasps instead both sides of his face, pulling him down until their foreheads press tightly together, until their breathing shares the same space, until he can feel every shudder against his skull. “We will save her.”

As he says it Nico knows he will make it so. Kayla and Austin run back to the van, ticket clenched in both of their hands, Will squeezes his eyes shut and nods, once, before sitting straighter than he has in hours, and Nico knows that he will not let Will lose.

Not again.

———

next

#if anyone needs me i’ll be shouting about nico & austin parallels that i just made up for hours #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #will solace angst #nico di angelo angst #angst #solangelo #nico di angelo & will solace #nico di angelo/will solace #nico/will #will/nico #my writing #fic #longpost

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Twenty

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen

A/N: Okay so for the sake of moving things along, I'm gonna be compressing episodes together. Don't worry, we'll still get pivotal moments and plenty of angst inbetween as well as Orora's interaction with the Gaang, plus Zuko's turmoil, but just a bit fast paced cuz I know we're all excited to get to the Day of the Black Sun. One more thing, this chapter tends to get a little.....dark at some points. Orora is dealing with the trauma of Zuko betraying her, and Zuko is just warring with himself. So yeah, neither teenager is in a good place right now. BUT! Other then that! Happy reading lovelies!

He was tossing and turning in his sleep. Half formed thoughts and lucid dreams plagued his mind. Nothing made sense.

Nothing except...........the thought of her.

Opening his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of Orora sitting on the edge of his bed. "Can't sleep huh?" She asked, sounding just as amused as he remembered.

Ignoring her, he sat up, running a hand down his face. "So whats on your mind?" She asked, standing to move around the room. "The Fire Lord?" He shook his head, though he was lying. "Azula?" Another shake of his head. "Aang?" She sounded a lot closer.

He was about to shake his head when something compelled him to look up and meet her gaze. It was almost scary, how clearly his mind could conjure her. And not just the physical aspect of her. He could actually imagine her warmth, and smell the perfume she had taken to wearing in Ba Sing Se.

"Of course, you're not thinking of me." She continued, sitting in front of him. "I mean why would you? I mean nothing to you." The look she fixed him with was once more a mirror image of what he remembered from the catacombs. His heart leaped in his throat.

A sudden flicker of color had his eyes darting towards the string on his finger.

It glowed a feeble blue, before disappearing.

He looked back up.

She was gone.

                                           ————————–

"I think I see a cave below." Aang called out from beside her, though she could barely see through the cloud that drifted around them.

Sokka hushed him instantly. "Shh! Keep quiet!" Orora rolled her eyes as she scratched Momo behind the head. "Sokka, I doubt anyone is around this place for miles." She pointed out to which Sokka shot her a glare.

Appa landed as Aang dissipated the cloud he had been airbending around them. Sokka jumped down and looked around suspiciously before crossing his arms and turning to look at the rest of them as they disembarked from the Bison.

He looked so much like a father disappointed at his children that Orora had to suppress a smile to lest she annoy him further.

"Great job with the cloud camo." He praised Aang, to which the young Avatar smiled. "But next time, let's disguise ourselves as the kind of cloud that knows how to keep its mouth shut." He ended, before moving to look around once more.

"You gonna check under the rocks for booby traps Sokka?" Orora called out, unable to keep from taking a jab at the boy's suspicious nature.

Toph, who was standing next to her, and who also couldn't let such a golden tease Sokka opportunity go to waste added. "Yeah, we wouldn't want a bird to hear us chatting up there and turn us in." Aang and Katara, who had been holding back their smiles, smothered their giggles.

His face set in an annoyed scowl, Sokka rounded on all four of them. "Hey, we're in enemy territory." He pointed above his head where a few birds sat atop the boulder right behind him. "Those are enemy birds." He whispered harshly. One of the Toucan Puffin jumped onto his head and screeched.

"Maybe he thinks your ponytail is a friend." This time the other three did start laughing out loud as they walked towards the cave Aang had seen earlier. Grumbling under his breath, Sokka followed after them, though he did not stop in his.........reconnaissance. He brushed past Orora, prompting the girl to scowl at him in annoyance.

The group stood around as Sokka continued to investigate, and once he was satisfied he stood up straight and grinned. "Well, this is it. This is how we'll be living until the invasion begins. Hiding in cave after cave after cave after cave." His head fell lower and lower as his voice lost the enthusiasm behind it and his shoulders slumped.

Katara rolled her eyes at her brother's antics. "Sokka, we don't need to become cave people. What we need is some new clothes." She said, gesturing to herself as well as the rest of the group. Aside from Sokka, who wore the Fire Nation Soldier uniform, all four of them were wearing clothes of their respective nations, except for Orora, with cloaks thrown over their shoulders.

Orora glanced down at herself and grimaced. "Yeah, I think red on green is a little out of fashion." She flicked the front of her dress in annoyance. "Besides if we get Fire Nation clothes we can just walk around in the open no?" She continued, turning to look at her friends.

Aang nodded. "Yeah, blending in is better than hiding out. If we get Fire Nation disguises, we would be just as safe as we would be hiding in a cave." He finished with a big grin.

Having taken to sitting down on the stone floor, Toph nodded. "Plus, they have real food out there. Does anyone want to sit in the dirt and eat cave hoppers?" The girl punched the side of the cave, causing several hoppers to jump out. Feeling a shiver run up her spine, Orora quickly stepped a little ways away from the creepy crawlies, and tried very hard not to look at Momo who was chomping on one of them.

Sokka sighed before looking at Momo. "Looks like we got outvoted, sport." He said, before cheerfully proclaiming. "Let's get some new clothes."

Seems the thought of not living in a cave all the time cheered him up.

And for once luck was on their side.

All five of them crouched behind a rock that overlooked a Fire Nation home with a waterfall nearby. There were rows upon rows of clothes hanging over natural steam vents. As her blue eyes darted from one clothing item to the next, Orora contemplated on what to take.

"I don't know about this." Aang whispered. "These clothes belong to somebody."

Katara, who had been on her one side, jumped out from behind the rock. "I call the silk robe!" She called, grabbing two outfits.

The other waterbender was quick to follow. "No fair Katara! I had my eye on that!"

Aang blinked as the two girls began to race between the maze of clothes, darting to and fro, examining clothes, and picking the ones they liked and leaving what they didn't. "But if it's essential to our survival." He mused, before he too perked up and jumped over the rock. "Then I call the suit!"

Though there was a flurry of activity inbetween the clothing lines, each of them was discrete as they grabbed clothes here and there. Anything they wouldn't need would be returned, but for now grabbing as many garments seemed to be the best way to go about it.

Soon they had all picked out their clothes and moved away to quickly change. Orora looked at what she had picked out. A pair of pants that slid over her legs, sitting loosely and ending just below her knees. Pulling the laces on the edge, she was able to create a slight ruffle once she tied it up. She paired it with a shin length skirt wrapped around her waist, but had made a slight modification by splitting the sides of the skirt to allow her legs to move better.

Her top was a deep red bandeau, with gold accents along the edges, that left her shoulders and part of her navel bare, revealing soft brown skin. She pulled on a pair of armbands that came up to her elbows. They were the same color as the top, and the ends were tipped in gold.

A nearby shed had revealed several shoes within. With a shoe size that was a little tough to find, Orora had taken the first one that fit her. They were a dark brown with a golden stripe down the front to the tip and came up to her calf. Pulling them on, she turned her attention to her reflection.

Now that her hair was long enough, she was able to make a braid that circled around her head like a crown, keeping stray strands out of her face.

Pursing her lips, she twisted this way and that, wanting to see herself from all angles. It wasn't her first choice of outfit, but she didn't have many options. Besides, it felt strange to be wearing red when all she associated with that color was fear.

She missed wearing blue, the girl suddenly realized, sighing to herself. Now she understood why Zuko had hated the colors of the Earth Kingdom. He had missed the colors of his Nation.

A scowl creased her features. Why had she just thought of him? He didn't even deserve a single second of her time.

Growling to herself, and ignoring the way her heart twinged, she bundled up her clothes and threw them into the river, causing her reflection to ripple.

                                           ————————–

Once they had all reconvened, the small group walked into the nearby city to purchase some other items they needed. Accessories to go with their now outfits.

Katara bought a new necklace, swapping the one she wore. Toph chose a headband, Sokka picked out a top knot. Aang, already wearing a headband, didn't pick anything out. Orora took a simple hair clip that would keep her braid in place.

Now for the next problem.

Food.

"I'm starving!" Toph groaned. Her complain was followed by a rumble from her stomach. Katara smiled as she patted Toph's shoulder in reassurance. "Don't worry, that's what we're gonna do next."

Before stepping out into the street, they stood behind a wall, waiting for Aang to finish hiding Momo.

Seeing him pat down Momo's ears and hide him inside his shirt, Orora raised an eyebrow. "You sure he won't get out Aang?" She asked, to which he grinned. "Momo knows how to keep still, don't you buddy?" He nearly stuck his face into his shirt. The poor animal responded with a series of chitters.

"I used to visit my friend Kuzon here a hundred years ago." Aang said in a cheerful tone. "So, everyone just follow my lead and stay cool. Or, as they say in the Fire Nation, 'stay flamin'." He walked out from behind the building. With a brief look of confusion she shared with Katara, the rest of the followed after him.

As they looked for a restaurant, Aang continued to greet people n the strange lingo he had learned a hundred years ago. "If he keeps saying that we're definitely gonna get noticed." Toph stated.

Finally finding a restaurant, they all moved to step inside but Aang stopped. "Oh, we're going to a meat place?"

Sokka shrugged. "Come on, Aang, everyone here eats meat. Even the meat!" He pointed towards a hippocow who was consuming a piece of meat.

Aang grimaced. "You guys go ahead. I'll just get some lettuce out of the garbage." Katara waved at him before they entered the building. "Stay out of trouble." Orora called over her shoulder. Aang gave her a playful salute.

                                           ————————–

It turns out, she didn't have much of an appetite.

And given that she felt a little restless, Orora decided to walk back to the cave by herself, leaving Sokka to nearly eat the whole restaurant out.

She took her time, looking around at the buildings, and watching the Fire Nation civilians go about their everyday lives. It seemed so strange, to be walking through the enemy and have them acting so normal. Then again they were normal. None of them were soldiers. She doubted any of them had anything to do with the war.

The young waterbender took a long while walking around and just exploring, and it wasn't until it was sundown, that she realized that it was getting late.

Changing course, she walked out of town following the stream towards the cave they would be staying in for the next few days. As she walked, her gaze slowly began to shift to the babbling stream she walked alongside.

Her steps slowed, and soon she came to a stop.

The girl stood there, staring at the water as it rushed by. Ever changing, ever shifting.

It followed it's own course, she thought, just like she had. And yet the stream seemed to have made its way in the world with no obstacles, so why couldn't she do the same?

Her obstacle wasn't physical. It was mental and emotional.

Since Ba Sing Se, she had kept her attention towards her friends and their well-being. There had never been a moment when she had been alone. And if she happened to be alone, she would try to distract herself by either training or wandering around, just as she had done just now around the town.

Now?

She was alone.

With nothing but her thoughts, and the stream for company.

And her mind went to the one person she had no desire to think of and yet.......he was always there.

At the back of her mind.

Zuko.

Her soulmate.

The boy who had decided to return to the Fire Nation. To a father who had banished him. Had burned him.

What Orora couldn't wrap her head around was the fact that he had just............left.

He'd just left.

Her and his Uncle.

Had he not thought of how his actions would effect either of them?

Had he not loved his Uncle?

Love.

She........didn't think he loved her. But he did at least care for her.

Didn't he?

Or rather hadn't he?

Did he still think about her? Or had he already forgotten all that they had shared in Ba Sing Se? All those moments when it looked like they were progressing with their friendship. All those talks they had had, sharing everything with each other.

Had all that amounted to..........nothing?

Was she nothing to him?

Had she not been enough?

That strange sensation began to creep up her throat again, she gulped it back but it took her a couple of tries before it disappeared.

She stared into the watery depths of the stream, completely missing the way her string glowed a dull red for a second before disappearing.

"Orora?"

The sound of her name suddenly echoed in her ears and she blinked. Shaking her head to clear herself of the fog that seemed to have descended upon her, the girl quickly turned her head to the source of the sound.

Aang looked at her from where he stood a few feet away, covered in dirt. "Are you alright? I've been calling out to you for a long time now?" He asked, concern in his grey eyes.

"I'm......fine." She finally responded, pushing away her morbid thoughts and forcing herself to pay attention to Aang. "Why're you covered in dirt?" She asked, wanting to change the subject lest the boy pick up on what had her mind so occupied.

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I went to play hide and explode with some new friends of mine." He said. Orora raised an eyebrow. "Uh huh, and where exactly did you make these friends?" From what the others had told her, Aang had the tendency to make friends wherever he went.

Aang grinned. "At school."

That was not the answer she had been expecting.

She blinked.

"Say what?"

                                           ————————–

Twice now he had gone to the prison.

The first time he had turned back, not even making it t the door. The second time he had walked in, threatened a guard before entering the one cell room he had been dreading to.

His Uncle's.

Not that going there had done him any good.

His Uncle had not spoken a word, and the already panicked and confused Prince had shouted a few choice words before going back the way he came.

It wasn't until the next morning, when he woke up and was playing around with his breakfast instead of actually eating it, did he realize that all that anger and confusion had morphed into something else completely.

Guilt and shame.

Zuko had wanted nothing more then to forget about it, to go about his day as if nothing had happened the night before. So when Mai had suggested that they take a private stroll to the nearby rocky outcrop that provided gorgeous views of the landscape he had almost said yes.

What had stopped him?

Memories of a blue eyed girl.

Her smile. Her presence. Her kindness. Her words. Her comfort. Her voice. Her hugs. Her laughter. Her smile. Her.............kiss.

"Thanks Mai, but I want to be alone right now." He finally responded. She gave a frown, her lips pinched.

"You know I'm getting tired of throwing hints and you not picking up on them Zuko." He flinched, thinking that maybe he had been a little dismissive of Mai's efforts to win him over.

There would have been a time when he would have actually reciprocated her feelings, and enjoyed them as well.

Now?

Now the very thought of even spending time with Mai had him feeling guilty.

As if he were going behind Orora's back.

Which was ridiculous, because they hadn't even been together officially. They'd just been friends.

But.....friends didn't kiss like they did.

Soulmates did.

Neither of them had thought of accepting the bond either, really they'd never even talked about it.

Mai had already walked off, and Zuko had barely noticed. His eyes were slightly glazed as he focused on the image of the water tribe girl he had called his friend for so many months.

If she were to see him now, she wouldn't be able to recognize him, he was sure.

Guilt and shame returned tenfold.

Though it was futile, he figured a walk along the same route Mai had suggested would do him some good. Pretty soon he was sitting atop a large flat boulder, one leg hanging over the side while the other he had pulled up so he could rest his arm on his knee.

The sun had just begun to set, casting gorgeous red, orange and yellow hues all around. He closed his eyes.

"You know its funny."

His eyes shot open and he turned his head. Orora was sitting beside him, knees pulled up to her chest. For the first time since his return home, there was a small smile playing about her lips. He stared, stunned.

"While we were in Ba Sing Se, we saw the night sky, and we watched a couple of sunrises together. But never a sunset." She turned her head so she could look at him. "I wonder why is that."

Feeling his own lips pull into a small smile. "Probably because we were too tired from being in the tea shop all day." He responded to which she sighed and nodded. "Yeah.......I just wish we had watched one together."

She lay her hands flat on either side of her body, leaning back on her arms, tilting her head back as she took in the last bit of warmth.

Zuko stared.

How was it that such a simple act would make her appear even more pretty then she already was? Had she always been this beautiful, or was his mind making her appear even more so then she already was?

Reaching out, he gently took her hand in his. Orora looked at him, surprise evident across her features. But Zuko was hardly aware of that, as he concentrated on the feel of her hand in his. Her scent as it surrounded him. And her presence that had always calmed him.

And yet.........the guilt..........the shame lingered.......

"I'm surprised to find you here by yourself Zuko. I figured you would be with Mai."

His eyes shot open and his head whipped to the side to see his sister leaning against a nearby rock wall. Her signature smirk was present across her lips as she looked at him.

"What do you want Azula?" He asked, turning his head back to it's original placement. Walking to stand in front of him, Azula cut straight to the point.

"So, I've heard you've been to visit your uncle fatso in the prison tower." Her words prompted him to slide down and stand in front of her, hands fisted in anger and glaring at her.

"That guard told you." He growled angrily, to which Azula shook her head, her smirk growing.

"No." She said, as calm as could be. "You did. Just now."

He wanted to kick himself for his own stupidity. Why did he have to go and fall for Azula's tricks every time. Still he stepped away from her and sighed. "Okay, you caught me. What is it that you want, Azula?"

His sister shrugged. "Actually, nothing." He stared up at her in disbelief. "Believe it or not, I'm looking out for you. If people find out you've been to see Uncle, they'll think you're plotting with him. Just be careful, Dum-Dum."

With that she walked off, leaving Zuko to think over what had just happened. There had to be an agenda behind her little visit. Azula didn't speak to him unless she wanted something. Or when she wanted to torment him and make his life miserable.

Too late for that, he mused to himself, lifting the hand that had held Orora's so many times.

He was already miserable.

The thread flickered a feeble blue before disappearing.

                                           ————————–

This was rather strange for lack of a better word.

She'd attended partied growing up, but they had all been rather stiff and solemn affairs.

And there was nothing stiff and solemn about the dance party Aang had decided to throw.

Kids dancing, laughing, chatting and just generally being......kids.

She stood in the corner beside the table Toph and Katara occupied, sipping from her the cup the former had earthbended for their use. The cave looked gorgeous, with hundreds of candles flickering against the walls. Music filled the air as Aang taught his new friends all the dance moves he knew from a hundred years ago.

"Who knew Twinkle-toes could dance." Toph said as she sipped her drink.

"Hope those dances are still relevant." Orora added, smiling to herself as Aang began to pull a few girls to the dance floor, who followed eagerly. Her eyes shot to Katara, and she couldn't help but purse her lips to keep from laughing at the annoyed look on the girl's face.

But she didn't have to wait long. Aang approached Katara, holding out his hand and asking her for a dance.

Orora couldn't help but smile brightly as the both of them ran to the dance floor hand in hand.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and simply stared at the two dancers. Orora recognized the dance. It was actually a series of waterbending forms that required two people to perform together. Looks like Aang had decided to put a little spin on his and Katara's fighting skills to other use.

She sighed.

They looked so happy, smiling and laughing as they glided across the floor. They deserved it. The both of them had seen too many horrors and just deserved to be happy with each other. Anyone could see why they were picked to be soulmates. If they decided to tell anyone that is.

They just fit together.

Like two pieces of a puzzle.

Like.........

Like her and Zuko had been.

Her heart constricted painfully in her chest, prompting her to gulp down her drink, as if it would get rid of the pain. Though the ache remained. While Orora went off to refill her cup, Toph's unblinking eyes followed her retreating back.

This wasn't the first time the young earthbender had picked up on the weird anomaly. And she was starting to wander what it was all about.

                                           ————————–

He was back again.

He didn't know why he kept coming back. Call it desperation. His Uncle had always been the one he turned to during his hour of need. It was upon returning to the Fire Capital that Zuko realized he had no one other then his Uncle who could give him advice and whom he could trust.

Despite the guilt he felt every time he visited him, Zuko always pushed past it.

Why?

He was getting desperate.

As he slid some food through the bars of the prison behind which his Uncle sat, he couldn't help but feel that guilt increase tenfold as he wandered what kind of food were they even giving him.

If he received any food at all.

"I brought you some komodo chicken. I know you don't care for it, but I figure it beats prison food." He said, his low voice echoing against the cold stone walls of the prison.

"I admit it." He began again after a beat of silence. "I have everything I always wanted." Not everything, an inner voice supplied, conjuring up an image of a certain waterbender girl with white in her hair. "But it's not as all how I thought it would be. The truth is, I need your advice."

Leaning forward he gripped the bars of the door. "I think the Avatar is still alive, I know he's out there, I'm losing my mind." His Uncle did not even respond. Growing desperate by the moment, Zuko continued.

"Please, Uncle, I'm so confused I need your help." His words were met with silence. All that fear, guilt and loneliness boiled down to one emotion.

Anger.

Anger he let out on his Uncle as he suddenly stood.[Iroh still has nothing to say to him. "Forget it." He declared, his hands shook with anger as he began to walk out of the room. "I'll solve it myself! Waste away in here for all I care!"

A voice called out.

"Is this how you behave with your elders Zuko?"

The boy in question whipped his head around to see Orora standing next to his Uncle behind bars. She was looking at him with such disappointment. "Stay out of it Orora!" He commanded, before walking out and slamming the door behind him.

Behind him Iroh looked up, wandering why his nephew would say such a thing. The thought of his young pupil had the old Master hoping and praying that she was safe.

Two lone tears slid down his cheek.

One for his nephew, who had lost his way, and one for his pupil, who had lost everything.  

                                           ————————–

It had to be done.

This was the final resort.

He was desperate.

There was nothing else he could do.

As the man he had hired approached, Zuko lowered his hood and looked at him. "You're sure you weren't followed?" He asked the giant of a man with the metal leg. The towering figure gave no response.

"I've heard about you." Zuko continued. "They say you're good at what you do, and even better at keeping secrets." This was it. His chance to keep what he deserved.

"The Avatar is alive." He revealed, a slight tremor in his voice as he continued. "I want you to find him, and end him." After a few moments, the man nodded in confirmation. Satisfied, Zuko pulled back his hood. His heart clenched in his chest, and his stomach flipped. Despite the fact that he had hardly eaten throughout the day, he felt like he was going to be sick. He quickly hurried off, as the urge to take back his order rose in him in a wave of guilt and shame.

No sooner had he disappeared from view when another hooded figure approached, though this figure did not remove their hood, anyone who knew them would recognize the voice.

"You heard what my brother said. And no matter what, do not stop for anything."

The voice continued, smooth and without the slightest bit of tremor as it gave the orders to kill. "I will pay you thrice as much as he does if you follow my orders, and four times my weight in gold if you return with one of the Avatar's companions."

The man blinked at the figure.

"A watertribe girl, with white in her hair." Anyone else who heard the voice, would be able to pick up on the absolute glee in the person's tone.

After all, there was nothing Princess Azula loved more then tormenting her brother.

                                           ————————–

She stared into the murky waters of the river.

The voices of the rest of the group were muffled behind her as she sat a little ways apart from them.

They had arrived at the river with the town situated in the middle of it. Calling it a town was a bit of a stretch. It was nothing more then series of planks nailed together to form streets, with people living out in the open with nothing to protect them from the natural elements.

But that wasn't what had gotten to her.

It was the people.

People who were sick, children who looked like they hadn't eaten a proper meal in days. Her heart physically ached at the sight. She'd moved to suggest that they help them, with Katara taking her side, but Sokka had stopped them. They couldn't reveal who they were by using Healing abilities.

He was right though. They had to think practically. And though it went against her very nature to not help, Orora kept her gaze forward, not wanting to meet the eyes of some destitute soul she had the ability to save but couldn't.

Besides, she doubted she would be able to help anyone much, what with her own lack of strength. For the past couple of days her appetite had been completely non-existent, and she was barely sleeping. She would doze off, but then as she would begin to fall deeper into sleep, Orora would forcefully jerk herself awake.

Why?

Because of the nightmares.

Nightmares that were just as horrible as the one from the previous night, if not more. All of them included someone she loved getting hurt or tortured or being killed.

And she couldn't take it.

She just couldn't take it.

"Hey?" She blinked as her head turned to the side and watched as Aang sat down beside her. Aang. The sweetest boy she would ever meet. With a fate that was so difficult and full of obstacles that she didn't think was fair to him. He deserved so much more. So much more then always being on the run, never being a kid all the time like he was supposed to. Loosing his people, his friends, his loved ones at the hands of a mad Fire Lord. He had died, and yet somehow, he still retained his sweet nature.

How could fate be so cruel to him?

"Enjoying the view?" He asked, referring to the polluted river in a joking manner. The older girl attempted to smile, but it was a grimace at best. As she turned her gaze towards the heavens where the moon had appeared out from behind the clouds Aang frowned.

Something was wrong.

Her lips parted as she spoke. "Its strange, how fate gives you something, but then takes it away again. These people have this river, but their own superiors have taken it away from them for their own gain." She hardly blinked as her eyes shifted from the moon to the lake. "Makes you question everything, doesn't it?" She muttered, a strange look in her eyes, never once wavering from the murky water in front of her.

Beside her Aang blinked, his eyes darted to the half-eaten bowl of food beside her. "Are you.......feeling alright Orora?" He asked, the worry evident in his tone and his eyes as he reached out to place a tentative hand on her shoulder.

He felt her tense under his touch. Her back straightened, her racing mind suddenly coming to a halt.

"I'm fine Aang."

Lie.

"Are you talking about the river or about someone else?" Aang asked, testing the waters, hoping he didn't say the wrong thing.

Someone else.

Zuko.

He meant Zuko.

Her soulmate.

In a way, she was addressing him as well. Or rather she was addressing the way she had lost him. Had she lost him though? Had he ever been hers to behind with?

He had been the one to turn his back on her. To attack her friends meant to attack her.

She blinked, her eyes heavy with sleep yet she couldn't go to sleep. She wouldn't.

Not when it meant she had to see Zuko hurt or dead over and over again.

He was gone from her life, but that did not mean she did not miss him. She did.

But now was not the time to dwell on that. Instead, the older girl shrugged her shoulders in a silent response. Aang seemed to accept it, since he fell silent next to her.

Orora stayed there for a few more minutes before she stood up, getting ready to go to bed.

The food she barely touched, she gave to Momo.

                                           ————————–

Orora laughed as she pulled him along through the streets of Ba Sing Se.

"Come on Zuko! The fireworks are about to start and I'm not going to miss them." She called over her shoulder. Dropping his hand so he would follow on his own, she turned a corner disappearing from view.

Zuko smiled as he walked after her at a much normal pace.

"If I run after you anyone might mistake me for a robber chasing you or something." He called in a playful tone, as he too turned a corner and came to an open courtyard.

The scene that greeted him had the smile dying on his lips, and his amber eyes to widen in fear and panic.

There stood his father and sister, in full Royal Attire, with more then a handful of soldiers standing behind them.

But that wasn't what got his attention.

It was the sight of Orora, shackled and in his sister's grasp. There were chains on her wrists, around her throat and even her ankles. Her clothes were torn, her hair hanging in front of her lowered face as she knelt in front of his family.

"Zuko, you did not tell me you found your soulmate." Ozai spoke in a pleasant tone as he regarded his son with a look that had always frozen him in place. "That is the sort of news a son shares with his father. I had thought perhaps we were more closer then before your banishment."

The scene around him had changed.

He now stood in the courtyard of the Fire Palace, though the scene in front of him stayed the same.

His soulmate.

In chains.

Azula sighed. "Oh Zuzu, why do you insist on keeping secrets from your own family?" She purred in a tone that had more of a thread behind it then a question.

"Father, I-" He started but then fell silent when his Father held up a hand.

He shook his head. "Not a word Zuko. I would much prefer to hear a few certain words from your lovely soulmate here."

With that the Fire Lord walked forward, only to yank one of the chains. It was connected to the shackle around Orora's throat. The yank forced her to tilt her head back.

Zuko nearly threw up.

Her lips were bloody, her nose broken with dried blood staining her upper lip. One of her eyes was black, while the other was completely shut because of the swelling. There were numerous cuts and bruises all across her once unmarred brown skin.

But worst of all?

There was a burn mark on her cheek. As if she had been slapped by a hand holding a flame.

"Now my dear, I want you to take a good look at my son and tell me." He pulled the chain, forcing her to turn her head to look at him. Tears filled his eyes at the sight of her beautiful face, her one good eye betraying no emotion.

"Is he your soulmate?"

A beat of silence, where Zuko held his breath.

But then he saw it.

A lone tear escaping her one good eye.

Then she spoke the words that had his heart stopping in his chest.

"No, he's not."

His heart shattered.

                                           ————————–

With a heartbreaking cry, Zuko shot awake, his arm held out in front of him as if he were reaching for something.

For someone.

His chest rose and fell as he panted for breath, sweat lined his body as his mind played the nightmare in his mind over and over again. He could even feel sweat on his face and getting into his eyes since they were stinging so much.

He buried his head in his hands, curling in on himself where he sat.

How could he ever have thought it? How could he ever have thought of bringing Orora here? His Father would never have accepted her as his soulmate. His sister would've tormented her every single day. She wouldn't have been safe.

His eyes stung and he brushed away the sweat that stained his cheeks. Suddenly he stopped, staring at the drops of sweat that shone on his palm.

Not sweat, tears.

He was crying.

He was crying because he had nearly brought Orora to certain death if he had asked her to come with him.

What had he been thinking?

The window beside his bed was open, casting the light of the full moon on his bed. Despite the horrifying nightmare still plaguing him, he turned his head to look at the moon.

"That was horrible wasn't it?" Orora asked from where she sat at the foot of his bed. He always turned to look at her whenever she would appear like this.

But right then, he couldn't.

The image of her so hurt and burned was still too fresh in his mind.

"Don't worry, I've had the same dreams. Though in mine everyone I care about or love always die."

Finally, he turned his head, only to meet her gaze and having his heart stop.

She looked so sad.

So utterly heartbroken.

He had done that to her, he suddenly realized as she stood to walk up next to him beside the bed. He had made her so incredibly unhappy because of his choice. Because he had wanted his old life back.

He had thrown everything they had in her face and just left her.

His stomach roiled inside him, and if he had anything in it, Zuko was sure he would throw up.

She was standing in a patch of moonlight, appearing as ethereal as the Moon Spirit herself as she looked at him. His mouth opened, wanting to say something, anything to her.

But she beat him to it.

"I hope you found whatever it was you were looking for Zuko. I hope it was all worth it in the end."

He blinked and she was gone.

                                           ————————–

"Hey guys, we need to talk." Katara called out to everyone, minus Orora. The older girl had volunteered to go get some food from the nearby town they had saved a few days ago.

"About your hair loopies and how out of fashion they were so you're gonna keep this hairstyle instead?" Sokka quipped from where he was cleaning his brand new sword.

His sister glared at him. "No, this is serious. Its about Orora." Her glare melted away to a look of concern. "I'm worried about her." She revealed. Almost instantly the very atmosphere of their small camp became somber. Sokka put his sword down, Toph stopped tossing the space rock in the air, and Aang paused where he had been playing with Momo.

"She's not acting like herself." Katara continued, worry evident in her tone as she spoke. Aang sat up straighter. "You've noticed it too?" He asked, wanting to confirm her words. Sokka frowned in thought where he sat, a hand coming up to stroke his chin in thought.

"Come to think of it, she has been acting a little strange the past few days." He commented. "I mean every time I wake up at night to use the little boy's bush, she's always awake. No matter what time of night."

Aang nodded. "Yeah I mean, have you seen the circles under her eyes, and she hasn't been practicing her bending either. When was the last time any of you saw her actually practice. She was so strict about it in the first week or so since we left the ship."

Pursing her lips Katara stepped forward. "Its not just that, I've noticed she's not eating enough. She's even thinner then when we started traveling through the Fire Nation. And I've seen her give her food to Momo or Appa most of the time." Toph, not wanting to keep what she had discovered to herself sat up.

"Guys, there's something else I've noticed." She revealed. As everyone stared at her eagerly, she continued. "Sometimes, I feel her heart pause before picking back up again." She frowned. "Its strange as if her heart.......skipped a beat or something."

Aang's eyes widened in horror, a thought forming in his mind as Katara spoke. "But isn't that dangerous? Does she have a heart condition we don't know about?" She asked, looking around the group the worry clear in her eyes. Sokka, noticing Aang's expression frowned.

"You okay there Aang?" He called out, to which the younger boy pursed his lips. "I am, but I think I know why Orora is acting the way she is." He revealed. The other three stepped forward, demanding to know what he knew.

They were all worried about Orora. Where she had been the one to get them to get up every morning during those horrible days when Aang was in a coma, now she was the last one up. She would go about her day in a strange way, as if she had no desire to do what she was tasked to do.

Aang held up a placating hand. "Look what I know, I can reveal until I ask Orora. Its her secret, and I don't want to betray her. But!" He called over the sounds of protests that greeted his words. "I have an idea."

Quickly pulling out a map of the Fire Nation, he spread it on the ground. The rest of them crouched over it, heads brushing together. "We're near this waterfall and its surrounded by a lot of rocks so that will give us some cover to just have a mini-vacation." He looked at each of his friends. "We'll stay there for a few days and maybe, without the constant moving around, Orora will be able to rest properly, and even tell us whats bothering her."

Everyone looked to Sokka for confirmation, hoping that the little detour wouldn't come in the way of the route he had designed for them. But Sokka wasn't even thinking of that. He was thinking of his friend, and how sad she appeared all the time.

Her sadness was familiar to him.

Somehow.

The sadness in her eyes, was the same he had carried after Yue had died.

Nodding in determination he grinned. "Alright then Gaang. Operation Get Orora To Her Normal Self will launch tomorrow."

                                           ————————–

It was late at night, and he was sitting beside the pond he had frequented so often with his mother. The garden was empty, silence surrounded him as he stared into the clear water of the pond, the moon shining her light down on it, reflecting her silvery glow against the flat surface.

                                           ————————–

It was late at night, and she was sitting in front of the fire, while everyone else slept around her. The silence of the night was broken by the sound of fire crackling and the occasional snapping of a twig whenever the fire would eat away at the flesh of the wood. The warmth of the fire enveloped her.

                                           ————————–

He was sitting with his legs pressed to his chest, his chin resting between his knees. While one arm was wrapped around his legs, the other was held aloft in front of him, his fingers holding up the small comb he had found laying on the battle-ridden floor of the catacombs.

                                           ————————–

She was sitting with her legs pressed to her chest, her chin resting between her knees. Both her arms were wrapped around her legs, keeping herself in a semi fetal position as she stared into the fire. The fire continued to flicker, casting strange shadows against her brown skin.

                                           ————————–

This was all he had left to remember her by. A comb. A blue comb with a dragon. Ironic that it was a dragon since it was the symbol for fire. Ironic that it was blue, the color of her Nation. Or more specifically, her eyes.

Her gorgeous ice blue eyes.

                                           ————————–

The fire was all she had left to remember him by. The fire that burned within him. The fire that burned in his hands when he fought an opponent. Maybe it was her imagination, but if she stared hard enough, she could picture his eyes looking back at her through the fire.

His beautiful warm amber eyes.

                                           ————————–

His heart clenched in his chest, so painful that he actually grunted softly from the pain of it. His mind conjured memory after memory. Memories of her. Of the brief life they had shared before and in Ba Sing Se. All those moments where nothing else had mattered.

Nothing except her.

                                           ————————–

Her heart clenched in her chest, so painful that she actually grunted softly from the pain of it. Her mind conjured memory after memory. Memories of him. Of the brief life they had shared before and in Ba Sing Se. All those moments where nothing else had mattered.

Nothing except him.

                                           ————————–

He brought the comb to his chest, as if it would alleviate the pain he felt.

                                           ————————–

She had nothing to comfort her, nothing to remember him by except her memories.

                                           ————————–

He now understood why he was seeing her everywhere. Why everything he did reminded him of her. Why she plagued his mind no matter the time of day or night. Why he could not eat or sleep.

                                           ————————–

She now understood why she was feeling the way she did. Why everything she did reminded her of him. Why he plagued her mind no matter the time of day or night. Why he could not eat of sleep.

                                           ————————–

He just missed her so much.

                                           ————————–

She just missed him so much.

                                           ————————–

As they both buried heir faces in their arms, Zuko with tears stinging his eyes, and Orora with a vacant emotionless expression on her face, they both missed the way their strings glowed.

And they continued to glow throughout the night.

Fate had intended them to see the light, yet neither of them saw it.

Instead they each succumbed deeper and deeper into their mutual pits of utter despair and hopelessness.

                                           ————————–

Tag List - @wavesofchaos​ @violet-potter​ @rennysketch​ @emma-andrea1 @lovesammikinzz @fuzzyfestcat @msrawog @notsaelty @lust-for-pan @aces-tattooartist @jinxxangel13 @lotr-got @bitterspoons @realrintaro @gatorgirl151 @inutheangel @heartfully10 @lucaaahhh @juniper-july19 @anuttellaa @gfksz @bussyvussy @punksnotdeadbutiam @ablofftoneverland-blog-blog @slut-for-menn @vyliie @army-moa75 @juwhls

#the thread of fate #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #fire lord zuko #atla zuko #prince zuko #zuko #avatar the last airbender #the gaang #zuko x oc #prince zuko x oc #prince zuko x reader #avatar the last airbender fanfiction #avatar: the last airbender #avatar #netflix avatar #avatar aang

[smolvenger]

A Court of Mischief and Purpose Masterlist (Loki x fem! Reader Hiddlesverse A Court of Thorns and Roses AU! series)- Ongoing!

Summary: Sarah J Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series reimagined with Tom Hiddleston's various characters- Especially the events in the second book: A Court of Mist and Fury. England. 1885. You are dying of tuberculosis right before your upcoming wedding to the Lusty Vicar of Aldwinter, Will Ransome. As you lay on what could be your deathbed, the god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you in time for the wedding...if you spend a week of every month with him. When the time comes to fulfill your end of the bargain, you are introduced to a world full of more magic and danger than you could possibly imagine...

Content Warnings: Cheating (not Loki, but...* takes a long sip of a fun little drink with a straw*...dealing with Will Ransome's canon actions and decisions and portraying them as bad so Will fans and Lusty Vicarettes you have been warned). Period Typical Attitudes. Mentions of sex and religion.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

Update: This will very likely be split into two parts or seasons (like in @muddyorbsblr's gorgeous series Relinquish The Crown), I just have to figure out how and the events in it. Also, comments, dms, reblogs, and asks about my work are always greatly appreciated!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty Three

#loki my beloved #tom hiddleston #angst with a happy ending #fanfiction #loki fanfiction #hiddlesverse #tom hiddleston characters #carrie writes #tom hiddelston loki #dammit hiddleston #twhiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #loki fic #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki x fem! reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x fem! reader #loki mcu #loki mcu imagine #fic recs #loki marvel #will ransome #the essex serpent #stella ransome #a court of thorns and roses #a court of thorns and roses au

[shaunashoochiebae]

Write something about a locked door or something? I don’t know (I too have no motivation but have two things I gotta write)

Locked Out

Word count: 1290 (my longest fic thing yet yippee!!)

Warnings: none just cutesy stuff kinda idk?? kinda Shauna x reader idfk yall also modern au.. GUYS IDK HOW TO LABEL THIS

a/n: so sorry this took me so long i was procrastinating so hard my bad ahhh also didn’t really know how to like.. finish it so it’s kinda shit but okay!!

You pulled into your driveway, the worries of the school day rushing out of you as quickly as they came. You grabbed your backpack from the passanger seat and got out of the car. Making your way up to your front door, you checked your pockets for your house key. Fuck. They weren’t there. You groaned in annoyance as you got to the door, dropping your backpack onto the ground and looking through it for your keys, but with no luck.

You pulled out your phone and called your mom. After a good five rings, she picked up. “Hello, I’m in work, what’s wrong?” You sighed into the phone, rubbing your forehead in exhaustion, “Uh, I forgot my keys. Is there like a spare under a plant pot or something?” You could practically hear your mom rolling her eyes on the other end, “No, there isn’t. Call your dad, he might be around,” she said just before she hung up. Alright then.

You took your moms advice and called your dad who picked up immediately, “Yes, hello, what’s wrong?” You huffed and explained to your dad what was going on, with a bit more drama. “Okay, so I had a shit day and I just wanted to get home and relax, right? Okay, so I got out of the car, checked my pockets. No keys! Just my luck. Called mom, no spare key apparently, so she told me to call you. Are you around or are you grocery shopping or something?” You could hear your dad sigh, which obviously meant “I’m about 34478 miles away.” You groaned and nodded to yourself, “Alright. I’ll see you later,” and you hung up.

You took a deep breath and decided to call your best friend, Shauna. Surely she could help you in some way? You dialed her phone number and it rang. No answer, no bother. Try again. You rang her again. No answer, fuck. Okay, third times a charm. Surely she wouldn’t leave you outside looking absolutely hideous and drenched in sweat after soccer practice. On the third try, she finally picked up, “Hello?” “Shauna, hey. Can you do me a favour?” You could hear from the noises around her she was still driving home, and lucky for you, she didn’t live too far from your house. “I could, sure. What’s up?” Chances are, she would most definitely do what you asked. You never asked her for much, really. This was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

“I forgot my house key, so I can’t get into my house. Could you take me back to yours? Just until my mom or dad gets home.” You dropped the bomb. Okay, maybe not a bomb but a hard boiled egg. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll come pick you up. I’m about fifteen minutes from your house. Just stay put.” A grin spread across your face. Success! Now all you had to do was wait outside for a good fifteen to twenty minutes, taking traffic into account, and no more worries.

You spent the next thirteen minutes scrolling on your phone and moaning to Van in your texts; “feel so stupid”, “forgot my keys”, “shauna my lord and saviour is picking me up!!!!:!:!2&/!:!” and Van would respond, “u are quite the interesting specimen”, “have fun with with the wifey”

After the excruciatingly long time of sixteen minutes, the last three minutes spent by counting the amount of leaves on the tree in your front lawn, your lord and saviour, Shauna, finally arrived outside your house. You waved at her quickly and picked up your backpack, swinging it over your shoulder. You ran over to her car and got into the passenger seat.

“Ugh, thank you, Shauna. I forgot my key, my dad’s out and my mom’s at work, so thanks,” you explained as she nodded along. “Why didn’t you just drive up to my house yourself?” She asked you, an eyebrow raised. You hadn’t thought about that. Fuck. “Uh, I didn’t want to take up too much space in your driveway..” you answered with a shrug. Sure, what you said made sense, but a shit excuse. Shauna just nodded, not really listening to your excuse, more so flattered you decided to call her out of all people.

“I hope your mom doesn’t mind, y’know. That I’m coming over and whatever,” you said, glancing away from the road for a moment. “Oh, no,” Shauna shook her head, “She doesn’t mind at all. She loves you.” That shocked you a little bit, usually when you came over to her house, her mom would give you looks, snarky smiles, the whole lot. But apparently she loved you? Weird. Your eyebrows creased together and, of course, Shauna noticed this.

“What? You don’t believe me?” she chuckled out, punching you softly in the shoulder. “I mean, usually she looks like a starving animal, watching its prey. Me, obviously, being the prey.” Shauna laughed, eyes widening in shock a little, “Really? That’s what she told me. She said, ‘You know your friend? The one who’s always over here, comes into the kitchen when I’m makin’ dinner? Actually a really sweet kid. I was iffy about ‘em at first, but,’ and then she shrugged. She does like you, trust me.” You listened intently to what her mom had told her, clearly interested in what she really thought of you behind all of the bitterness she showed you.

Shauna braked at a red light and handed you her unlocked phone, “Plug in the aux, Ms. Roan, if you please.” You smiled at her, opening her Spotify and playing her top playlist, whose name was “queen but like in a cunty way”, interesting. You picked up the aux wire, plugged it into her phone and pressed play on the playlist. The first song that came on was Red Wind Supernova by Chappell Roan. She looked back over at you as she continued to drive, humming along to the opening lyrics, whilst you sang, “She was a playboy, Brigitte Bardot. She showed me things, I didn’t know.” Shauna loudly sang after you, “Put her canine teeth in the side of my neck!”

You both chuckled at your equally horrible and loud voices, “So mad we didn’t get tickets,” you said with a frown. She groaned, “Ugh, I know. I would literally be screaming the entire way through. Got her CD, though..” She said in a sing-song voice. You shrugged, not satisfied with the outcome, “Not the same, is it?” She frowned, “Guess not.”

You pulled into her driveway and she parked the car, she got out after grabbing her backpack from the back seat and you followed. “Is your mom making dinner or is it too early for that?” You asked her as she unlocked her front door. “Uh, I dunno. It’s kinda early, so probably not yet?” You gave a nod as you walked into her house. “Mom, we’re home!” Shauna called out to her mom who was presumably in her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes and threw her backpack onto the floor near the door.

You walked into her living room and took a seat on the couch with a heavy sigh. Shauna came over and sat beside you, grabbing the remote from the tv off the coffee table. You pulled out your phone to see one new text message from your mom.

You unlocked your phone and read the message to yourself, “I’m almost at Shauna’s, I’m coming to pick you up in 10 minutes.” Sent 7 minutes ago. Damn. You huffed and showed your phone to Shauna who was flicking through channels, “Ugh, seriously? You just got here.” You shrugged, a guilty frown playing on your lips, “Sorry, man.”

#yellowjackets #yj #shauna shipman #shauna x reader #lesbian #wlw #my fic #daisys whimsical words #yellowjackets fic #shauna shipman x reader #help #shauna mom confirmed #van palmer #van palmer mentioned

[sunsickjune]

bathroom - age six, peering at the new scar along his cheek, wondering how he’s going to explain this one away at school, nose scrunched up in pain as he runs his fingers gently along the mark, fruitlessly hoping to will it away

bathroom - age seven, wet hair, dripping onto his pyjamas, his mother wrapping him in a towel, bundling him up in her arms, carrying him into the bedroom, giggles filling up the shoebox room

bathroom - age nine, drawing in the steam on the mirror, hiding out in the shower, shampoo stinging his eyes, water’s too hot, suffocating, the glow of the almost full moon shining through the window, eyes closed against the pain already vibrating through his bones

bathroom - age eleven, staring at the envelope, green eyes bright with amazement, tracing the letters with a scarred finger, hope, fear, restlessness, excitement

bathroom - age twelve, examining the new scar across his jaw, padfoot says it looks badass, prongs yelling for him to hurry up, dragging a toothbrush against his teeth, can’t get rid of the grin on his face

bathroom - age fourteen, padfoot messing with his hair, slapping his hands away, smirking, grabbing a jacket from the floor before running after prongs, late for breakfast, calling for wormtail over his shoulder

bathroom - age fifteen, on the floor of the shower, eyes closed against the hot water, how much of the water is his tears? uneven breathing, pounding in his head, idiot padfoot, it’s not like he even cares, heartbroken, betrayed, hating them, hating the wolf, hating himself

bathroom - age sixteen, pulling on one of prongs’ hoodies, scanning his notes as he rinses his hands, padfoot smirking at him in a way that quickens his heartbeat, come on moons we need to get going, flushed cheeks, bright eyes, shoulders knocking, towel discarded on the tiles of the floor

bathroom - age seventeen, back against the cold porcelain of the toilet, eyes scrunched shut, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palms, sharp enough to draw blood, can’t sleep, can’t stay awake, the soft sound of the door opening, prongs’ hands on his shoulders, prying his fingers away from the wound, moony talk to me, hey, look at me moons, head falling onto his shoulder, so fucking tired

bathroom - age eighteen, panicked breathing, shaking with pain, gripping marlene’s hand, padfoot trying to stop the blood with his shirt, lily muttering healing spells over it, prongs’ quiet cursing from her side, can’t get the bodies out of his head, lifeless eyes, familiar faces, gideon, fabian, how many more?

bathroom - age nineteen, choking on his sobs, can’t breathe, can’t stop seeing her face on his head, hair spread out on the concrete behind her, beautiful blue eyes wide with shock, she didn’t even scream, marlene, she’s gone she’s gone she’s gone, door cracking open, he pulls him into a hug, marlene, marlene, padfoot’s voice cracks, i know

bathroom - age nineteen, padfoot fixing his tie for him, prongs chattering nervously from behind them, straightening wormtail’s suit, mary banging on the door, yelling that they’re going to start without him, “you can’t start the wedding without out the groom, macdonald!”, prongs grins, and his smile is the sun

bathroom - age twenty one, spilling water over harry, padfoot pulling faces, making him laugh, splashing water on his face, a casual arm on his shoulder, turning to him with soft eyes, a smile lighting up his face, loved

bathroom - age twenty one, standing next to padfoot, but he feels miles away, avoiding his eyes, clearing the sink, “i miss you”, he breathes, a confession, padfoot pausing in the doorway, “i’m right here”

bathroom - age twenty two, panic attack, can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t open his eyes because everything reminds him of them, doesn’t want to be alone, but it doesn’t matter, he has no one to go to anyways

bathroom - age twenty five, head hovering over the toilet, fingers gripping the sides of the seat, violently throwing up, knocking over a discarded bottle of beer with his foot, when did he start crying? head pounding, “i miss him” he admits his secret to the empty room, no one there to judge him

bathroom - age thirty, sitting on the cold tiles in his pyjamas, mary clinking her bottle with his “thirty, flirty and thriving”, he gives her a look, she giggles, he’s happy for the first time in a long time, “love you rems”, yeah he’s happy

bathroom - age thirty three, splashing cold water on his face, it’s fine he can do this, but he looks just like him, he needs to plan some lessons, but the eyes, maybe a boggart for tomorrow, those green eyes, lily’s eyes, fuck, he can’t do this, how did he think he could do this?

bathroom - age thirty five, brushing his teeth at the mirror, padfoot’s right next to him, can’t stop smiling, “what?” padfoot’s smiling too, “just missed you”, nudging his shoulder slightly, “i’m not going anywhere moons”

bathroom - age thirty six, broken, more broken than he was last time, shaking, can’t get up, won’t get up, he’s not going to survive this, he knows he can’t survive this, how the hell did he do it last time? leans back against the wall, eyes closed, thinks of prongs, of padfoot of lily and marlene, smiles softly, silence, endless silence.

#marauders #remus lupin #remus lupin supremacy #sirius black #james potter #wolfstar #marauders era #lily evans #the marauders #marlene mckinnon #mary macdonald #my writing #peter pettigrew #harry potter #marauders headcannons #fanfiction #jily #this ones kinda sad folks

[delopsia]

Rhett's truck hasn't had a keyfob for the better half of fifteen years now.

Built back in 2001, its bounced from owner to owner so many times that nobody knows who lost the fob, and Rhett only knows that when he bought the truck, the previous owner didn't have that little device.

But you can't complain when you're a broke sixteen year old whose been taking odd jobs for a good year and a half, and this truck is the only reliable vehicle you can afford.

All these years later, Rhett very well can afford a newer, nicer truck. Something with a radio that doesn't still take cassette tapes and with lesser miles. Hell, he can afford to buy a new damn keyfob.

But he doesn't, for one very particular reason.

It gives him an excuse to open the door for you.

With this truck, he gets to quicken his step as the pair of you near his vehicle. Fishing the key out of his pocket, sliding it into the passenger door, and opening it up for you. And since he's already there, it only makes sense that he waits to shut it once you've settled inside.

You know what he's doing. He knows that you know what he's doing. But oh, does he love getting to do it.

Nowadays, trucks aren't made with bench seats in the front row. How is he meant to feel you rest your head against his shoulder while driving if there's a big console between the pair of you? And where is he supposed to rest his right hand, if not on your thigh? And those sleepless nights where neither of you is ready to go home, and you sprawl out together on the seat?

No, he doesn't think he's ever buying a keyfob.

And he's surely not buying a new truck.

#rhett abbott #outer range #rhett abbott outer range #rhett abbott headcanons #delgato's warmups

[mangoshorthand]

Arrow of Time- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Chapter 2 (Hard Feelings Part 5)

SUMMARY: When the mother of all teenage tantrums causes time itself to fracture, Five has to travel back to 1831 to repair the damage. But will he be able to cope with what he finds there? On to Chapter 3 >> << Back to Chapter 1

Aoife cheats on her math test...with disastrous results.

Blue balls for Five ahead.

Chapter 2: The Bike Shorts

When you enter the bedroom, Five’s lying on top of the sheets, still in his cycling gear (minus the helmet).He looks almost entirely calm now, chest rising and falling only slightly harder than usual. He flashes you his most charming smile, however, patting the bed beside him. 

“Aoife ok?” he asks.

“Fine. Back to rolling her eyes.”

“Good,” he grins up at you, “well that was a shitshow.”

You flop down next to him and melt into his embrace.

“What brought it on?”

“It was stupid. I rode past the Argyle Public Library.” he runs his fingers through his hair, “it’s been demolished.”

“Oh.”

You understand immediately. It had been his and Dolores’ home base, enough of the internal structure left standing to provide them with shelter to sleep. It had been the closest thing he’d had to a home for him for forty years: the longest he’d ever lived anywhere.

“Wanna know something funny? They must be halfway through: the way they pulled it down, it looked exactly the same. The same parts were left standing.” a bitter smile pulled at one corner of his mouth, “the more things change, the more they stay the same.”

You know his mind now almost as intimately as your own: he’s not just talking about the way the two timelines rhyme.

“It’s been ten years since I had a freakout like that,” he says, resentfully. “I been to therapy every two weeks minimum , I take the damn pills religiously and still I lose my ever-loving shit over a building.”

You ease his hand out of the fist he’s screwed it into. You take a breath to respond to him but he plows over you.

“And I know what you’re going to say: the state I was in when we got together, it’s amazing that I haven’t had a major freakout for ten years. Maybe if I weren’t taking the pills, I’d be losing my mind every damn day, and I know therapy isn’t a cure-all, it just helps you work with what you got but…”

He pauses for a second, frustration on hold as his conscious mind catches up with what he’s said. Then he gives a rough laugh.

“And you’d be right,” he rolls to face you, smiling genuinely now.

“You said it all for me,” you shrug, smiling back at him.

The realization seems to have bolstered him:

“So, all in all, I give myself five stars for that panic attack. Threw it off like a champ.”

“You did,” you smile, leaning over and kissing his lips gently.

He’s always thought you have the sweetest lips. Maddening, in fact.

Even after all these years, the lines of your body are still the delight of his eye, particularly the ones that have developed since you’ve been with him. Everything you’d tell yourself is imperfection is, for him, just another object of devotion. After all, the stretch marks, wrinkles and reduced elasticity are all products of the fifteen years you’ve given to him: sixteen Christmases; fifteen fourth of Julys; fifteen whole trips around the sun that you chose to spend with him when you should have run a mile right at the start. 

He wants to celebrate that, wants to love you physically and worship your body with his.

The kiss you give him is only just beyond a peck, but he leans into your perfect mouth and works his way between your lips. You pull away before he’s half done. 

Honestly…it’s been a while. He’s kept his frustration quiet: work has been troubling you. It’s fine: it’s just a matter of feeling stressed on top of getting a little older. He knows it’s not because you love him any less…academically, at least. He can take care of himself ok and even if you never had sex ever again that’s perfectly fine: he’s in this for the long haul, no matter what. 

He’d cope…he’d adapt. He’d find a way to not ogle you, mouth dry, every time you get undressed. He’d spent most of his life having, (with all respect to his first long-term partner), sub-optimal sex. Now he’s had fifteen years of amazing sex, it’s almost unbearable to imagine having to just  ‘make do’ again. But he will if he needs to. 

He hates feeling needy. It’s a form of vulnerability he’s not yet able to reconcile in himself. It doesn’t feel so long ago but he remembers how you used to look up at him with needy eyes… Maybe tonight can break the dry spell.

“Say…how about you and I…”

You look at him with amusement, “Really, Five?”

“Come on….” he adjusts his body so he’s leant against the headboard and you can see his hand skimming down his body towards his crotch, “you know you like the bike shorts.”

“You’re seriously going straight from a major panic attack to horny?”

In answer, ghosts his fingers over his package. The shorts certainly are tight… Were you in the mood, something about them would make you want to reach in there and root around to see what you can find. They cling attractively in all the right places, stopping an inch or so above the knee. As if his bulge wasn’t enough, the way they sculpt themselves around his muscled thighs and perfectly peachy ass is…noticeable, to say the least.

“I’m a little tired.” you say, not wanting to burst his bubble but hoping he’ll take the hint. 

“I can be quick,” he says, trying to keep the slight plea out of his voice, “you could call me daddy again, if you want. Aoife hasn’t called me that in years now.”

“Nice try, Five,” you smirk, “maybe next time.”

“Oh, I’m not trying,” he says, rising to a kneel, turning and straddling your thighs, “I’m succeeding.”

He’s half-joking but nevertheless trying his luck, deliberately raising a rock-hard tent beneath his hand. Then, he rises on the bed into a high kneel.

Even in your totally unaroused state, the look he fixes you with almost makes you feel like a hooked fish being reeled in. He looms over you, head tilted and arrogant smirk firmly in place. He looks down his long nose as he paws at his boner, circling his hips. The shorts really are obscene. They would only have to be one iota tighter for them to cling to every single vein on his fit-to-burst shaft. As it stands, the lycra outlines the bell-shaped tip of his cock in minute anatomical detail.

It's a beguiling sight, but not beguiling enough.

“You’re still one hot grandpa but I’m sorry, I’m really not feeling it.”

He gives a small smile of acceptance and kisses your forehead before he swings his leg over and gets off you, heading for the ensuite bathroom.

“I’ll take care of myself,” he says as he peels off his cycling gear.. Then, in a final bid, he adds, “guess I’ll have to take a shower, lather up real good, lean up against the tiles and whack myself off with the suds…”

“Yeah, guess you will.” you say, picking up your reading glasses and the book off your nightstand. 

Five stifles a sigh and enters the bathroom; boner leading the way like a perky seeing-eye-dog. As he shuts and locks the door behind him, he leans against it.  It looks like it’s another night of jacking himself off into the shower tray. He tries not to feel hurt, tries to keep in mind all the reasonable thoughts from before. The humiliation of trying so hard only to be rejected? Rejected kindly, lovingly, but still rejected. He’s not going to degrade himself so far as to beg for sex. He’ll never be that pathetic. 

Thank god for his left hand: it’s been there for him for nearly 80 years now and it’s always in the mood whenever he is.

The Trevor Dalton school covers PreK through to 12th grade. You’d initially felt conflicted about sending Aoife to private school but, for Five, only the best education money could buy would do for his daughter, regardless of your ‘commie bullshit’. You couldn’t help but agree emotionally; she deserved the best.

Overall, you’d been pleased with her progress: she had a firm group of friends and she enjoyed her extracurriculars- particularly band. Despite this, her math scores worried you both. Though Five had taken to tutoring her himself, she was showing little improvement in school. You’d both been pleased, therefore, to see how much time Aoife had spent holed up in her room studying for an upcoming math test.

Aoife certainly has been studying for her math test…just not in the way you and Five might think. She’s been practicing religiously every night before sleep. Every time, her temporal jumps are getting longer and without the need for all that stupid math. Last night, she managed to reverse an entire hour without even turning a hair. She can do it quickly too- she doesn’t have to force herself through the seconds like her dad seems to: she can just do it. He won’t know what’s hit him when she shows him what she knows. 

Were she to sit down and analyze her feelings, she’d be unsure precisely why she wants this so much, whether she wants to make him proud or piss him off. Most of all, she wants to prove that she’s not a baby. All she can do is imagine the look in his eyes when she jumps through time with him along for the ride.

The math test will be her first time using her skills in the real world. She never blinked at school, (she’d learned early on that letting too many people in on the fact you have superpowers doesn’t end well) but jumping through time was different: when you went backwards, you’d erase anyone’s memory that you’d done anything unusual.

The test was in-class, and Aoife had taken care to discover the format before the big day. Mr Douglas would put the questions up on the board, the class would have thirty minutes to answer the questions and then, at the end, they would pass their answers to another student to mark and he would reveal the answers.

Sitting at her desk now, she’s full to bursting with nervous excitement. She can barely concentrate during the test, (not that she needs to), but she fills in stuff anyway. When Mr Douglas calls time and reveals the answers, she’s trembling so much that she’s surprised nobody’s noticed.

She passes her piece of paper to Izzie seated behind her and takes Jack’s from up ahead. Ignoring his paper, she grabs a fresh sheet of her own and begins to write down the right answers. This is what she’ll hand in…now she just has to make sure that this piece of paper is the one she passes to Izzie.

Holding her correct answers in one hand to exempt it from the reversal of time, she reaches easily into the abyss. It’s second nature now; couldn’t be any easier. It’s cool to watch. Alone in her bedroom, it was hard to see the effects; it's different in a crowded classroom. Jack’s pen reverses, going from right to left; eventually, he turns and takes his test back from her desk while Izzie hands Aoife’s over her shoulder. This, Aoife screws into a ball and drops into her backpack. The answers on the smartboard disappear as Mr Douglas moonwalks into his chair and the booger Kevin Simmons flicked across the room returns to his finger and he places it back up his nose.

Aoife lets go. Only somebody watching her closely would notice her jolt.

“And that’s time,” said Mr Douglas, “pass your test to the lady or gentlemen behind you. Ladies and Gentlemen at the back, bring your tests to the front of your row.”

Grinning all over her face, Aoife passes her new answers to Izzie.

Five spent most of the day with Luther who, for once in his life, has had a brain wave.

They’d been in Five’s bedroom, using the huge dry-erase and a plethora of colored post-its to plot out his idea: a non profit focused on helping male survivors of sexual violence. 

Five helped mainly out of solitarily with Luther: arranging support groups and having to break the ice with the story of his own rape wasn’t exactly appealing, but Luther’s bright blue eyes were so alight at the the possible scope of the idea (that he dubbed ‘The Umbrella Foundation’), that Five was willing to put his misgivings aside for now. He'd suck it up if he had to. 

When Aoife gets home from school she barrels into the room when he and Luther still stand, contemplating the timelines and tenuous organizational structure they’ve drafted. 

After a quick hug for Luther, she passes Five her test and smiles coyly at him. 

“What’s this?” he says, smiling back.

“Unfold it and see!”

He does so and his eyes light up, even as he affects to look casual. He stands with one hand in his pants pocket and his hips loose

“An A+? Jeez, where was this the other day? And not a single wrong answer?”

“You’re surprised, right?” she smiles up at him

“Surprised? Proud is what I am.”

He grins and pulls her into a full hug which she, for once, reciprocates.

“Ben fatto, tesoro. Hai lavorato sodo.”

“ Grazie papa.”

She has worked hard for this. Maybe he wouldn’t think of it that way, but she has.

“Well done sweetheart.” smiles Luther, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“You see what you can do when you set your mind to it?” says Five, kissing her forehead and holdung her at arm’s length, “How about I take you out this weekend? Maybe we take Izzie too? What do thirteen-year-old girls do these days? The...mall or whatever?”

Aoife snorts laughter at this, “yeah sure Dad, we’ll go to the mall.”

“Well I don’t know what you guys like to do. You’re the first teen girl I’ve spoken to for fifty-five years!”

Five’s never sure why, but he never feels as old around anyone as he does his daughter. Despite speaking seven languages, Teen Girl is one he can’t get his head around.

When Aoife bounds out of the room again, Luther turns to Five with a significant look on his face.

“She just runs into your bedroom...without knocking?”

Five knows exactly what he’s referring to. 

“Yes,” he says, testily before looking sidelong at Luther and lowering his voice, “not exactly much for her to walk in on these days.”

Luther gives him a sympathetic look and turns back to the dry erase.

When you arrive home, long after Luther’s drifted downstairs, you’re instantly more skeptical than Five. To go from a D+ average to an A+ with no steps between? You smell bullshit. Perhaps it’s a fluke…but something about the way Aoife shows you the test sets off warning bells in your head. You don’t want to accuse her if this really is the product of hard work, but you’re worried you’ll have to. While she practices the drums after dinner and you sit with Five on the couch, already feeling guilty about raining on his parade.

“This math test…pretty surprising, right?”

From the tone of your voice, he immediately realizes your implication. Fifteen years of a relationship has given you so many little shorthands and layers of implication that would be lost on others. The line between his eyebrows deepens as he considers.

“You think she cheated?”

“I don’t know, but it seems a bit too good to be true. When her homework’s been so poor and she could barely do simple algebra last week?”

His lips pull inwards. He’s by nature a rather cynical man, tending to believe the worst in people until they prove him wrong, but he has a blind spot the size of Jupiter when it comes to his daughter.

“She knows how important it is that she learns. She wouldn’t mislead me.”

Really Five? You raise your eyebrows at him incredulously.

“She’s a teen. Pushing boundaries and lying to their parents is what they do.”

His scowl deepens, “I still don’t think she’d lie about this.”

You sigh.

“Well, I’m going to go talk to her. You’re telling me she didn’t seem weird to you? Like she’s got a huge secret?” 

He nods slowly, considering. 

“Do you remember when she was six and stockpiling candy under her bed? She was pulling the exact same face.”

Reluctantly, Five follows you as you knock at her bedroom door. It’s amazing she hears you over her drumming, but she does. When you both walk into the room together, she stiffens and puts down her drumsticks

“Hey honey,” you say, Five at your shoulder but skulking slightly behind, “we just wanted to have a talk.”

“What about?” she says, too quickly. She’s immediately on the defense and even Five notices.

“Well, we were just talking, and we’re concerned.” you cross to the bed and sit down on it, trying to appear less threatening. Five remains standing, hands (as ever) in his pockets and head tilted. You catch his eye and prompt him.

“Did you cheat on that test?”

Great job Five. Subtle as a flying brick.

Immediately she looks panicked.

“No!”

“Just tell us the truth and we won’t be mad," you say, trying to keep your voice calm.

“I said I didn’t!” she snaps, firing up immediately.

You move to placate her: it suddenly strikes you how unjust this would be if she actually did earn her score.

“I know you’ve been studying this week and if you’ve got this score because you’ve worked your butt off then we couldn’t be more proud of you, it’s just…my Mom senses are tingling. I know when you’re hiding something.”

“I’m not!”

“Okay,” says Five, stepping forward and grabbing a notebook and pen from within his jacket pocket. He scribbles rapidly and then slaps both down on her dressing table.

“How about you prove it? Expand this.”

He looks more pissed than she’s ever seen him directed at her. Feeling a mixture of shame, anger and injustice Aoife stands and approaches looking down at the scrawled problem:

5(12c + 7) - (1 - 55c)

There it is. The familiar panic that sets in when she encounters numbers in almost any context. She picks up the pen. She knows where to start but when she tries to perform the expansion, it’s like her brain crashes. She tries to concentrate and can’t…especially with both of them staring down at her.

“That’s way too hard!” she whines, “I can’t do that one. The test was easier. You just make them way too complex because your brain is all weird about math.”

“Oh, well that's interesting.” Five’s voice is dangerous- almost a whisper. “Now I know you’re bullshitting me. Wanna take a quick guess how?”

She doesn’t answer, even when he jerks his head towards her.

“No answer, eh?” he turns from her to you, “Do you want to know how I know she’s bullshitting us, Mom?”

You frown in slight disapproval of this theater, but it’s about time Five stepped up to be the bad guy so you keep your mouth shut. He turns back to Aoife, teeth slightly bared,

“That was a question ON the test, genius.”

Her face heats up and eyes prickle. Five just gives a disdainful scoff, shakes his head and looks away from her.

“Tell us the truth, Aoife,” you say, sternly, trying to keep your own temper under control, “you cheated, didn’t you?”

She turns to you and stamps her foot in a way you haven’t seen since she was six, “Just shut up Mom!”

As Five gives a sharp reprimand for her speaking to you that way, you speak over him,

“First you cheat and then you keep denying it? You’re still lying. I’m so disappointed that you’d be this dishonest.You’ve not just cheated us, you’ve cheated your classmates and you’ve cheated yourself too!”

Suddenly, Five turns back to her, shoulders rolled and hunched in the awful posture he adopts when stressed or angry.

“You know, I couldn’t give a rat's ass that you cheated. I’m just still trying to get my head around the fact you lied to me about this !” he begins to pace distractedly, “you know how important it is that you UNDERSTAND basic mathematical principles. It’s a matter of life and death! ”

You turn to Five, angry with him now.

“So you don’t care that she lied at school, only to you?”

Five tosses his head and returns his gaze to his daughter standing between the pair of you. Hormonal rage courses through her. Right now, she’s as erratic as Five ever was in his prime.

“I don’t even need math to be able to use my powers! It’s not my fault your head’s so far up your own ass that you can’t jump a few minutes without filling a whole wall with equations!”

“Aoife!” you rebuke, shocked by this attitude towards her father, but she ignores you.

“I did cheat, okay? And you wanna know how I did it? I just wound back time-”

Five blinks at her, dumbstruck. He looks as if he’s been clubbed over the head.

“-and you know what, Dad? I’m still here. I didn’t end up years in the future and get stuck there like a dumbass! ”

You spring up from the bed, grab her shoulders and turn her to face you. Her eyes are wild with anger, face red and teeth bared even more than Five’s had been only a minute or so before.

“How can you speak to your Dad like that? How dare you? After-”

But the rage that’s been building in her bubbles over. All she wants is for you both to get out of her room. You think just because you’re her parents that you know better? You don’t: you especially don’t get it. Always so far up your own ass, judging her for every time she falls under your ridiculously high moral standards. Nothing short of sainthood is good enough for you.

She can feel full-body tingles growing as anger descends over her. It makes her grab your forearms. If she’d been less angry, she might have noticed the crackle of electricity or the feeling of polarity accessed in her mind…the feeling of the last jigsaw piece slipping into place…

“JUST GET AWAY FROM ME, MOM!”

…but the whole puzzle explodes as she pushes you abruptly. She only means to shove you in the direction of the door, but the portal that erupts swallows you whole, collapsing in on itself before you can even stumble.

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @rorygi1more, @jamiebower88

On to Chapter 3 >> Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03.  Here is a link to the whole series

#the umbrella academy smut #the umbrella academy five #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy #umbrella academy smut #umbrella academy number five #umbrella academy five x oc #number five imagine #five hargreeves smut #five hargreeves imagine #number five smut #number 5 imagine #number 5 #fanfic #ao3 writer #tua fanfic #umbrella academy fanfic #five hargreaves x oc #number 5 x oc #hard feelings #Arrow of time

[lost-girl-2021]

Would it be possible for you to write a fanfiction on ao3 about Metkayina Spider human au? It sounds so interesting that I don't even know how to comment

I think I might after I finish up with Days Into Decades. I'm in school rn (and trying to get a job) so I don't want to take on too many projects at once. I've definitely started fics, then got a new idea, started a new one, and accidentally ghosted the first, so I'm hoping to avoid that atm, lol.

I have three-ish ideas for new fics that I've written a little about, but I'll probably decide once I've finished with Days Into Decades (I'm starting the last act rn, actually).

The options are as follows, for anyone interested:

Metkayina post-battle Spider AU

(After the battle) Spider is taken in by Ronal and Tonowari. Either he washes ashore like Ariel and is taken in before the Sully's even notice he's there, or he's doing his little beach-boy thing and sleeping in trees and they notice.

I also think it'd be really funny if all the Metkayina people think Spider's, like, ten or something because surely human's get bigger than that, right? Like, it's been awhile since they've seen any humans and they never worked closely with them/interacted outside of fighting. So, they never really paid attention.

Young Spider (Adopted) AU

AU where humans don't age as fast as the Na'vi, so Spider's like 12-14-ish and his friends are all fifteen/sixteen. Also, in the AU, I would probably have Spider be adopted by the Sully's. I've touched based on it before, but I'd probably do something where Spider was raised (properly) besides the Sully kids and the rest of the movie takes place pretty much the same (minus my boy Neteyam dying, never gonna go there).

Brainwashed Spider AU (Probably my fav atm)

Spider is 'rescued' by the Sully's after the battle, except he doesn't remember them. At all. As far as he's concerned, he's Miles Quaritch Jr. and Jake Sully is a traitor of humanity.

There's a couple different ways this could go. Either Quaritch lives and takes him back at some point, only for Spider to realize he was treated better with the Sully's. Or, Spider finds out Jake killed his dad and feels bad for starting to trust him. Spider could run away at some point, he could try to off himself like the 'good soldier' he is. Idk, there's so many options.

Modern Metkayina/Foster kid Spider AU (the more I think about this one the more ideas I get)

Spider is a foster kid sent to live with Ronal and Tonowari's family.

Two options for Spider's childhood before this: (one) he was living with the Sully family until they had to move to another country to be with Neytiri's ailing mother (two) he lived with his father in the mountains and was homeschooled, but his father was arrested and Spider's been sent far away to avoid anyone knowing his situation/any of Spider's uncles/aunts being able to find him while the case is investigated. I'm partial to the second version, because I feel like it'd be interesting to see Spider have to learn how to be a Real Boy. But, I also like the angst that comes with Spider getting comfortable with his new foster family and his old foster family (the Sully's) moving back to the States and wanting to adopt Spider, basically making Spider pick where he wants to go.

Whichever backstory he gets changes how the rest of the fic goes, but we'd definitely see Spider learning to surf (maybe to swim?) and Aounung at first bullying the guy and then getting in a fight for him or something whenever someone else tries to do it (very much 'i'm the only one allowed to make fun of my brother' vibes).

Those are the main fic ideas I have atm, lmk which one(s) you like the best or if you have any more ideas for me to hyperfixate on lol.

#atwow spider #spider avatar #miles spider socorro #avatar way of water #spider #avatar #atwow fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #days into decades #atwow

[notyour-valentine]

Any headcanons about older Emma and Charlie? 🌷

🍷Join me for a Drink 🍷 - TBITW: Grown Emma and Charlie

[Celebration] [Celebration Masterlist] [Masterlist]

This was written as part of my Series The Boy in the Window and contains spoilers

Warning: WWII, Bombings, Injuries, mention of death and violence, medical treatments, sexism, mental health problems (18/21+). I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Words: 1333

Tommy wants his children to go to the best possible school, which are mostly boarding schools, but can’t bring himself to send his children away. It is tricky to find a school, which takes both boys and girls but he won’t have them separated. 

In the end, they find a school which not only has both boys and girls from the age of sixteen, but also a looser boarding system, allowing them to come home on the weekend. 

For the first weeks, both parents are living in a rented house barely fifteen minutes away from the school in case the children need their help or want to go home. 

Especially Charlie is homesick at first, but he has Emma and knows he can go home every weekend, which makes the transition easier. 

At school, Emma excels at writing and speaking, at debating, mathematics and dramatic arts, while Charlie is excellent in biology, physics, chemistry, philosophy, literature and, like Emma, mathematics. He also starts to take an interest in drawing and poetry. 

She becomes an excellent equestrian, so good that if she were a man, she could have made the Olympic Team by a country mile. She isn’t though, and there are some things even Tommy can’t change, even if it makes his skin itch with anger. 

She is also an absolute heartbreaker, truly. But thankfully for Tommy’s nerves, she is never half as interested in a boy as she is in her horses, at least not until she is in her mid-twenties and falls head over heels

In my mind, independent of this story or any other Charlie becomes a doctor. He doesn’t seem to be all too like his father and I would love to see him pursue a more caring profession. It would also align with the charity work of the Shelby Family Foundation and while during WWII he would see more than his fair share of war, it would be vastly different from Tommy’s. 

By the time war breaks out, he would still be studying. Unlike many of his contemporaries, he would not be sent to France but stay in Birmingham and quickly rise through the ranks. He has nerves of steele and steady hands and is soon in the operating chamber day and night to save the lives of the people of Birmingham that are caught in the bombings

He comes of age during that time, not just legally, but emotionally. He sees things just as bad if not worse than his father has seen in France, has decisions to make that are tricker than his fathers, different, yes, but no less easy. Practise makes perfect and soon he has the duties of doctors far his senior. He has the talent, the cool head and the dedication

During that time, he falls in love with a nurse. She is just as tough as she is and not at all content with keeping her mouth shut. She knows exactly what she is doing and is not shy to stand her ground, against anyone, no matter how rich or powerful or threatening. 

He falls for her when they are in a bomb shelter and she is helping a woman deliver a child - it is the one time Doctor Shelby is close to losing his cool - an operation is one thing, but an unmedicated childbirth in the middle of an airstrike is a whole other thing, but she has nerves of steel and takes charge. 

Within weeks she becomes his closest companion and ally. They pull each other through the war, after which they get engaged, however it would be years before they get married. She goes off and studies medicine in her own right first, and is one of the first women in England to keep her maiden name as a professional name since it would be very confusing to have two “Dr Shelby”s working at the “Shelby Family Hospital”. 

The war causes Tommy’s mental health to turn for the worse; he blames himself for everything that happens, every death, every injury, every ruined building in the city. He has plans of course, for evacuation, for rebuilding, but he doesn’t have the strength to carry them out. Guilt, fear and PTSD renders him incapable of most things, even of engaging with the general public - of being the Tommy Shelby the world, and especially the city knows and respects. 

In this time, it is (Y/N) that holds him together, if so barely. She is the one behind the scenes, caring for him, caring for others, managing his housing project, that turned into a refugee project, but behind the scenes work is not good enough in a situation like this. 

So Emma steps up. 

And how she steps up! Having always been a charismatic, charming girl, she had grown into a confident young woman, adopting a signature red lipstick and matching red ribbon in her hair to keep it out of her face. It looks strange at first, but before long it is the single most recognisable style in the city. 

Many people are sceptical about leaving their city homes for refuge in the country, but the Shelby name, the Peaky Blinder’s reach, Ada Thorne MP’s influence and Emma’s charm is enough to convince most, even if it means she has to go knocking from door to door. 

It isn’t known how many lives they saved, but when the bombs fall on all industrial cities, a large part of Birmingham is already empty, having relocated to all those country mansions Tommy had bought up earlier. 

Those are managed by (Y/N), while Emma becomes pivotal for moral and communication in the city. The Major, the MP, the Home Secretary and the War Minister, they are all well and good, but Miss Emma’s word is more often than not the deciding factor.  This irks some of the old guard in the ministeries and when they send a young officer from an old family, to investigate, and to ensure that everything runs in the proper order of things while removing “that girl” without any official position from influence. The visit goes as bad as possible, and he makes an utter fool of himself, and has to eat his words within an hour of meeting her. Birmingham is a Shelby city, and he quickly learns that Emma’s word holds much more sway than any official piece of paper. 

It is only incidental that he requests leave for a follow up and quickly puts in a recommendation to grant more power and presence to community leaders instead of solely to military officials in this city and others. 

When he asked Emma if she would go dancing with him, she said she would only go if he could beat her in a horse race. In the end, after the war was done, she beat him at an embarrassing scale, and he lost his chance to take her dancing. So she took him instead. 

The war turns Tommy into an old man. There is no other way to put it, and even after it is finally over, recovery is slow, but still he doesn’t want to let go of the reigns of the company completely. 

Charlie was practically running the foundation and the take over was only a formality. He would expand the medical care for impoverished families, healthcare, medical research etc. 

And Emma’s charm, people skills and general knowledge are decisive in shaping the company in a post WWII world. They mainly take on the task of rebuilding infrastructure, mainly housing, in the big cities. Before long, he realises that Emma has what it takes to lead the company with Ada. While he never leaves an advisory position, he keeps handing her more and more control. This happens due to his age, his trust in both of them, his acceptance that the world is changing too fast for even him to keep up and the arrival of his grandchildren, who keep him more than busy enough.

End

I want to thank you for participating in my celebration and for expanding on this. I hope you like this little headcanon.

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989 @raincoffeeandfandoms

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist @lespendy @geeksareunique @look-at-the-soul @lothbrokcore @rangerelik

#valentines1k #valentineswritings #valentinesheadcanons #join me for a drink #the boy in the window #tbitw #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby fluff #tommy shelby family fluff #thomas shelby family fluff #charlie shelby #charles shelby #charlie shelby headcanon #charles shelby headcanon #charlie shelby imagine #charles shelby imagine

[outstandingblue]

Promises to Keep

Sixteen - Playin' Around

recom!miles quaritch x fem!na'vi oc

| Masterlist | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen |

It's a bitch to get a taste of your own medicine.

cross-posted on ao3 here content warning: an attempt at hurt-comfort(ish), shits and gigs word count: 5.7k

“How are you feeling today?”

“Much better. Ready to get these out. They’re itchy.” Jiniraa answered, trying her best not to gag at the overwhelming antiseptic that lingered in the air. The smell in the actual medical wing was overwhelming compared to Renia’s office. 

Renia nodded and slid her chair across the room to grab her tweezers and scissors before pushing off again and sliding right back to where Jiniraa waited. Lurking along the wall, Miles rolled his eyes at the doctor’s childish antics, but he knew better than to say anything forthright.

She had launched a textbook at his head the first time he made a snide comment and her scissors gleaned under the lights. They would be a much deadlier weapon than an oversized textbook. He had tried to make peace with Renia, but it was a work in progress. She made the Colonel work for her peace, not just accept his mumbled ‘thank you’ as he avoided eye contact. Regardless, the two managed to remain relatively civil over the past week since Jiniraa woke up. They were forced to interact when Jiniraa came in for her daily evaluations, so they fought to suppress their insults that just begged to be unleashed. 

It had been a week. A week since their intimate moment and kiss outside, but no one brought it up. Not once. Their gazes would linger longer than usual, but neither had the guts to say anything. Their dynamic was complicated to say the least. In public, Miles made a point to keep his distance from Jiniraa, but tried to keep her within his line of sight. He would hover in the background - like he was doing right now - and try to look busy and make work out of nothing.

On the other hand, Jiniraa didn’t know what to think about much of it. Did she want the kiss? Absolutely - one could argue she was the main instigator. Does that mean she magically forgot everything Quaritch did the moment their lips touched? Well, maybe for the moment, but everything came rushing back right after: the destruction of Hometree, the killing of hundreds of innocent Na’vi, the threatening of the Sully children, and every other heinous crime Miles and Quaritch committed. So, she retreated inward.

After they disconnected and Miles made his declaration for her, the words flowed from her lips before she was able to think, too caught up in the emotional and physical sensations. I see you, Miles. What was she thinking saying those words? He couldn’t have understood, even if he was fluent in Na’vi, he wouldn’t understand the weight of those words. Now, Miles had no clue what she said - a failed translation attempt from Spider only left him more frustrated. 

Since the Recoms tended to move in groups, he knew they could be trusted with Jiniraa’s wellbeing, but there wasn’t a moment outside the housing district where she was left without an escort. When asked, Miles chalked it up to makin’ sure you don’t start bleedin’ to death again. It should be noted that Miles always made sure to escort her to and from the medical wing. He would argue this was the most logical course of action - he would get the information from the source, not some second-hand account from Wainfleet or Zdinarsk. 

The private and public spheres of Jiniraa and Miles were completely different stories. In public, Miles kept Jiniraa at arm's length, limiting their interactions to brief conversations with none of his usual charm. At meals, he would sit at the other end of the table. He was relentless in training, pushing her harder than anyone else. In private and protected from the intrusive Bridgehead crowds, Jiniraa and Miles were free to be themselves. Rather than exploring their physical intimacy, their emotional intimacy had grown much deeper. Once Miles’ door closed behind them, they were back in their little domestic bubble. Once they passed through the threshold to his quarters, there wasn’t any discussion of Ardmore or the greater mission at hand. It was only Miles and Jiniraa and that was all they needed. Did they share a few passing kisses here and there? Sure. The only thing they didn’t talk about was their kiss outside - little stolen pecks were fine to giggle about but the epic kiss under the stars was off limits.  

In the absence of interaction with Miles in public, Jiniraa had grown closer to the other Recoms. She was already closer with Lyle and Zdinarsk out of everyone, but she made leaps and bounds with Lopez, Prager, and Ja. Mansk was a slightly different story because he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Although she wasn’t able to participate, she’d watch from the sidelines as the Recoms messed around with each other in the courtyard. If he wasn’t stuck in meetings with the General, Miles would try to show off in whatever activity the group found themselves engrossed in, but it only earned him a few laughs and eyerolls. 

Lopez may have been on the smaller side compared to the rest of the team, but he easily was the most competitive when it came to sports - even resorting to dirty plays. Prager was a good sport, just happy to be there. Ja was somewhere in between the two - not quite as constantly pumped as Lopez and Lyle, but also not as casual and mellow as Prager and Zdinarsk. The second day after Jiniraa woke up, Spider told her about Ja’s efforts to keep her alive. Using some materials she’d been collecting for a while, she made Ja a bracelet - both a thank you for saving her life and semi-apology for knocking him out in the forest all those weeks ago. Ja just laughed, knocking her shoulder saying “just another day on the job.” He didn’t show it outright, but the words stuck with him for the rest of the day. Although it was against RDA regulation, he proudly tied his bracelet onto his medical pouch. 

“Alrighty, you’re all done. You’re gonna scar, but other than that you shouldn’t have much else to worry about.” Renia disposed of her gloves, cleaning off the bed. Jiniraa was lost in her thoughts for a second, not even realizing Renia had already finished taking the stitches out. “You haven’t been having any pain when you walk, right?”

“No, I do not have any pain there anymore,” Jiniraa answered, sliding off the hospital bed and repositioning her pants. She was still stuck wearing Bridgehead-issued clothing, but they were only a temporary problem. She already had plans to make her next article of clothing, but she just needed more materials. “Spider says I have not been limping, but I did not notice.”

“That’s a good thing,” Miles grumbled, pushing himself off the wall. In front of Renia, they didn’t have to be as reserved with their interaction compared to the rest of Bridgehead. They couldn't go full on make out or anything, but they also didn’t have to pretend to hate each other.

“The Colonel is right - as much as I hate to admit,” Renia mumbled, ignoring how Miles pinned his ears. “That bullet must’ve been the cause of all that after all. You really don’t remember getting shot?”

“Be nice,” Jiniraa slapped Miles’ on the arm, glaring at him for his rudeness. 

“I don’t do nice.” 

Jiniraa decided it was better to ignore him as she continued. “When they found me in the forest, I was already bleeding from that area. I don’t remember being injured, just the aftermath. There’s nothing from before that day.”

Renia nodded, scribbling something down in her notepad. Miles’ eyes were trained on the floor, deep in thought. With a tentative tap on the shoulder, Jiniraa snapped the Colonel out of his daze. His head shot up, meeting Jiniraa’s mildly curious gaze. She had been finding him stuck in his thoughts more and more often. He cleared his throat, “all done?”

Jiniraa nodded, turning around to bid Renia goodbye. The doctor didn’t even look up from her notes as she waved back. A few weeks ago, Jiniraa was clueless when it came to navigating the halls of Bridgehead, but now she knew certain sectors like the back of her hand. The knowledge was a double-edged sword: it was nice not to need a guide, but everytime she turned a corner without contemplating the direction, it felt like a small part of her native self died. 

“Jiniraa, slow your roll.” Miles jogged to catch up. She basically darted out of the medical wing, not able to stand the chemical smell anymore. 

Jiniraa. The name was a punch to the gut. He stopped using those nicknames in public. No more sweetheart and no more baby, even after all those sweet words he said last week. None of it in public. He addressed her using her actual name - historically, he used it out of pure desperation. Those few times in the forest? He was terrified of losing her. Why did he use her actual name now? It was still desperation, but a different type. Ardmore’s threats plagued his thoughts, so he was keenly aware of his word choice, meticulously managing every single syllable. 

Jiniraa didn’t even wait for Miles as she pushed ahead towards the mess hall. As usual, when Jiniraa joined the Recoms at their dining table in the mess hall, all eyes were on them - or her specifically. She’d grown used to the constant unwanted attention, so it didn’t bother her anymore but it didn’t sit right with everyone else - especially Miles. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place when it came to Jiniraa. Ever since Ardmore made her threats clear, Miles knew he couldn’t step out of line because it would risk her and Spider. On the other hand, hearing rumors floating around the nameless humans that crowded the corridors of Bridgehead made him indescribably irritated - at one breakfast he broke a set of utensils from how aggressively he was cutting into his food. 

Miles Quaritch was never one to care about how he was perceived by those around him, as long as they feared and respected him he didn’t give a rats ass about what they thought, but a recent discovery of Bridgehead social strata had begun eating away at him. According to Bridgehead gossip, Jiniraa died during her surgery and that was why the Colonel had been so irritable while she was in her comatose state. Another rumor said he was the one who killed her in the forest in a blind fit of rage, this of course was debunked when she made her return to civilization and the other theory became all the rage. 

“So, what’d the doc say?” Zdinarsk asked with a mouth full of food once Jiniraa settled between Lopez and Ja - at the other end from Miles. 

Jiniraa gave a thumbs up, one of the many human gestures Lopez had taught her in the past week. Some were innocent, others were incredibly profane. “Stitches are out. Renia said I’m cleared for everything.”

Prager sighed, throwing his head back as he looked up to the ceiling. “I wish I saw the doc more.”

Lopez laughed, eyebrows creasing together, “you what?”

“You know,” Prager began, bringing both hands up in front of his chest, “she got a nice rack.”

“Excuse me?” Mansk challenged from a few seats down, suddenly interested in the conversation. “Wanna say that again?”

Prager held a finger up at Mansk, already feeling his death glare burning into his soul. “I’m just saying Mansk, you’re one lucky man.”

“You are fucking disgusting,” Zdinarsk mumbled, focusing back on her food rather than the idiots in front of her. 

Jiniraa watched as Prager tried - and failed - to rationalize his case to Mansk, who had slid his dark shades up, exposing his irritation and borderline wrath. Lopez bumped his elbow against the woman next to him, he already had a dangerous grin as his eyes twinkled with mischief,  “that means you’re playin’ with us today?”

“I would like that, thank you, Lopez,” she smiled back, engaging in an insignificant conversation with the tattooed Recom. At the other end of the table, Miles glowered at his subordinate. Lopez could feel the Colonel’s stare, but he paid it no attention. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was just being nice and inviting Jiniraa to participate in their little games.

Daringly, Lopez glanced past Jiniraa and made eye contact with the Colonel before focusing back on her and gave his most flirtatious grin, “anytime, sweets.”

Miles growled under his breath, stabbing his fork into his food. Looks like another set of utensils were about to meet their untimely end. Next to him, Lyle smirked, knowing exactly what was bothering the Colonel, “hey boss. Everything ‘ight?”

“Don’t.”

Miles didn’t know this, but all the Recoms had a bet on how long it would take before he snapped and made a scene in public. They would push a little more each day, being extra flirty and teasing Jiniraa all in attempts to get a rise out of the Colonel. Miles was gagged - unable to say anything without blowing his “cover”, but seeing that little purple blush that encroached on her ears when Lopez shot a quick wink almost pushed Miles over the edge. She shouldn’t be giggling at his snide jokes or blushing at his nicknames or trading culture with the Recom - those are all things she should be doing with him. He royally messed up - his theory to push her away was biting him in the ass. 

So that’s how Jiniraa found herself outside with a few of the Recoms. For the past few days, she was just an observer. It was refreshing - they weren’t Marines or Recoms anymore. They were just a group of young adults messing around and getting pumped up on competition. 

“So you understand the rules?” Lopez snapped his fingers in front of her face, already knowing she wasn’t listening. Jinraa stood there dumbfounded as Lopez rolled his eyes, lightly pushing her shoulder, “too caught up in that pretty lil’ head of yours, ma.” Jiniraa averted her gaze as an involuntary blush rose. “Tie this around your waist. Put the hanging parts at your hips. Here, like this.”

Jiniraa nodded, adjusting the fabric to replicate what was on Lopez. They had already been divided into teams. She was with Mansk, Lyle, and Zdinarsk while the other team was Miles, Lopez, Prager, and Ja. Spider would be their referee for the day, a suggestion Jiniraa made to keep the teenager involved. He couldn’t use a normal whistle because of the mask, but the screeching buzzer Lyle had in his bag (for whatever reason) made up for it. Spider menacingly laughed the first time he pressed the button and Jiniraa knew right away he was already plotting to terrorize the Recoms with it.

“Hey Lopez!” Zdinarsk called a few yards away as she stretched, “we playin’ full tackle today? Little lady is with us.”

Miles went to object - she hadn’t even been cleared by Renia for two hours, but Jiniraa beat him to the chase, “I want to play how you normally do. Don’t change for me.”

Zdinarsk laughed, popping a bubble before spitting out her gum, “alright then, get ready to get your shit rocked. Who’s shirts and skins today?”

This time, Miles didn’t have to interject as Lopez had already moved to take off his shirt, waving it above his head. He was getting a little too enthralled at today's game. Miles shook his head, making sure to hold eye contact with Jiniraa as he untucked his tank from his belt and peeled it off his skin. 

The teams lined up in the middle of the clearing, Spider placed in between them as he held an avatar-sized football in his hands. “Everyone ready?”

Every single Recom had dangerous smirks and ravenous glints in their eyes. This was their favorite time of the day, evident in how they bounced on their feet when Spider moved to toss the ball into the air. 

Right before the ball left Spiders fingertips, Jiniraa and Miles glanced at each other at the same time. His facial expressions were more exaggerated than the rest of his unit, a devilish grin and gleaming eyes, “you ready?”

Her eyes flicked down to his bare chest for one moment before hardening her expression at his obvious taunts, “of course I am.”

Miles sent her a wink, something daring to do given their current location, but it clearly was a tactical decision. A way to stun Jiniraa momentarily as Spider tossed the ball into the air, giving Miles a chance to grab it before throwing it towards Lopez who was already running towards the water-bottle-marked end zone.

Lyle chased after Lopez, feet sending dirt and grass into the air as he reached to grab Lopez’s flags, but he was just a little too far. Lopez maniacally laughed as he crossed into the end zone, making a point to slam the football into the ground before triumphantly kicking a leg into the air and yelling out, “oh fuck yeah - you see that Wainfleet? That bald ass head is too slow to keep up!”

Lyle’s eyes turned to slits, but his lopsided grin said otherwise. As payback, Lyle gave Lopez’s queue a sharp tug as he sauntered by. To make matters worse, Prager clapped his hands on Lyle’s shoulders as he moved back to center field, “no need to be a sore loser, Lyle!”

Lyle shook off Prager’s gloved hands, “you got one fucking point. You didn’t win.” Their team circled up, making sure they were out of earshot of the other team. “Alright. I am not going to lose to those bastards today. I’ll throw the ball to Z-Dog. Mansky-”

“I hate it when you call me that.”

“-too bad. You go after Ja and Prager while Z runs down. I’ll take care of Lopez.” 

The Recoms agreed, moving to break the circle before Jiniraa spoke up. “What about me?”

“You have the most important job of all - distract the boss.” Lyle winked.

Not catching his drift, Jiniraa tilted her head, “how?”

Lyle smirked, “I’m sure you’ll figure out a way. Alright, break.”

Since Lopez scored first, Jiniraa’s team was given possession of the ball. She hadn’t quite grasped the rules of the game, even though she’s watched half a dozen before. A certain someone often distracted her from the logistics of the game: his muscles and glistening skin were often more entertaining than the sport. Since that’s how Miles distracted her before, Jiniraa decided to use her own charms against the Colonel. 

As Spider pressed his ear-shattering buzzer, everyone moved instantaneously. Lyle threw the ball to Zdianrsk as planned and Miles moved to cut off Jiniraa. Exactly what she wanted. He stood there, arms outstretched and ready to grab at her if she tried to slip past, but he didn’t expect her to stand there with bedroom eyes and a surly expression. Something he’d never seen from her, even in their mild makeout sessions in his room - things never got to that stage before one of them stopped. This time, it was Miles’ turn to be stunned as she winked before glancing over his shoulder to see how far Zdinarsk traveled before Lopez tackled her. Almost half way, not too bad. With a second wink, Jiniraa jogged past Miles to join the rest of the team. 

Miles chuckled, “oh you little minx.”

Jiniraa smugly shrugged her shoulders, yelling back, “just using your own tactics, sir.”

Miles gulped, instinctively straightening his posture as the designation rolled off her tongue. He shook his head, trying to suppress the explicit thoughts that invaded his mind, “Christ, what have I gotten myself into?”

Cursing and yelling took over the field as the game grew increasingly heated. Lopez began his dirty plays after the twenty minute mark, resorting to pulling people’s tails rather than flags and accidentally tripping others. He was careful enough to keep his tricks out of Spider’s eyeline.

“Score is ten-ten. You guys are tied.” Spider announced, grabbing the ball from Miles.

“That’s right!” Miles exclaimed, pumping his arm in triumph after scoring his most recent tough down. He was oozing confidence, jutting his chin out and cocking an eyebrow as he passed Jiniraa. She couldn’t help but admire how his dog tags bounced off his chest as he shook his entire upper body. 

“Circle up!” Lyle shouted. “Alright, I’m going to give the ball to you this time, princess. You’re fast and agile. Just make a dash down the field, yeah? We’ll take care of those bitches.”

It would’ve been the first time the ball was purposefully thrown to Jiniraa. She was on the receiving end of Lyle’s cannon of an arm once before - it was a Hail Mary at the end of the second quarter but Prager managed to tackle her before the ball was secure in her arms. Prager didn’t hold back in his assault - the scuffs of dirt on her skin and blades of grass sticking out of her hair were proof enough. Jiniraa nodded, the competitiveness of the Recoms was beginning to rub off on her. “I got it.”

“Hey, let’s go ‘Niraa’s team! We have three minutes left on the clock!” Spider yelled from center field, hands raised in exasperation at having to wait. Miles stood behind him, hands on his hips. Lopez tapped at his wrist three times to taunt everyone.

Lyle ignored Lopez as he continued, but pointed right at Spider, “I prefer ‘Lyle’s team’.”

“No.” Spider shook his head, not caring how he bruised Lyle’s ego. He scoffed before plucking the ball out of his grip. Spider turned away to hide his smile - he loved getting under the Recoms skin as much as possible. It was one of the only things that made life at Bridgehead bearable. 

By this point, Miles considered himself somewhat of an expert on Jiniraa’s body language, so he knew something was up when she fiddled with her fingers as Lyle looked around at his team. He knew the ball was going to her, but he’d let her have her fun for now. 

As expected, Jiniraa dashed past the opposing team and tried to offer Lyle an opening. It was a good thing his throw was aimed directly for her chest because it bounced out of her arms before she secured it down to run. Miles faked out Zdinarsk, spinning past her to chase Jiniraa as she sprinted down the field. Given her height and injury, she was no match and he closed the gap in a matter of seconds.

“Oh no you don't, baby.”

Jiniraa’s steps faltered as the nickname reached her ears. Between his stripping, the wink, and now the nickname, he clearly was using their undefined relationship dynamic against her, a dangerous move given their location. It’s not like Jiniraa was a saint in the matter - she’d been using the same tactics, but hers were a little more discreet. 

Miles reached forward to grab the flag on her hip, but decided fuck it and pushed off the ground to tackle her instead. He wasn’t going to haphazardly tackle her like Prager did earlier - no, he wouldn’t risk injuring her as his weight came down. In a split second, Jiniraa felt his arms wrap around her waist from behind as they twisted in the air, making sure he would take the brunt of the impact. 

As Miles rotated their bodies in the air, he managed to spin Jiniraa around to face him. When he hit the ground, she landed right on his waist. Her mouth dropped open in shock, not able to comprehend how Miles managed all that in a matter of seconds. Miles smirked from below, reveling in her expression before pushing up on his hands. The movement made her slip down from his waist to press against his hips. He tried to ignore the weight of her body as it pressed into his groin before reaching down and pulling on the flags around her waist. 

“Flag down,” he smirked. Given their current situation, they were at eye-level for once. With a snarl, Jiniraa tried to stand up, but Miles flipped them over so Jiniraa was pinned to the ground. Her hair spread out against the grass, braid falling over her bare shoulder. Her pupils were so blown out that the green was almost completely gone. 

They hadn’t mated, but that didn’t mean their bodies were immune to reacting as they were placed in compromising situations. This time, she wasn’t making the surly expression on purpose - it was her body’s natural response to having Miles on top of her, large hands on either side of her head. He straddled her waist as powerful thighs encased her softer body, muscles not even strained as he supported his massive body weight. 

Miles could get used to this image of Jiniraa below him. She felt the same, heat rushing to her core as she tracked a single bead of sweat travel down the expanse of his chest. She almost threw all her values away right then and there as he bent over and nipped at her neck. 

Her head lulled to the side for a second, allowing him to explore more, but her breathy response made Miles groan into her neck, “Miles…public - we’re in public.”

Miles sighed as he pulled back, realizing she did have a point. There were too many eyes around. He reluctantly pushed himself off her before jumping to his feet. Jiniraa ignored his outstretched hand, brushing the dirt off her legs as she bent over to pick up her flag. 

“I could’ve helped you, you know.” He tried to banter with her, but she only shot him a playful glare before jogging off. He couldn’t help the way his tail swished and his ears pushed forward to full attention as exhilaration took over. 

Lopez snickered as Miles rejoined his team, “nice tackle, boss. A little much don’t you think?”

“No clue what you’re talkin’ about, Lopez.” Miles challenged, eyes trained on Jiniraa as she laughed with her own team. Lopez hummed, obviously not believing a word the Colonel said. 

In the end, Miles’ team reigned victorious as Lopez’s dirty tricks managed to pay off once again. Lyle was pissed, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it. Lopez was slick enough to hide his tactics from Spider’s watchful eye, so there was no way of getting caught, even though Lyle complained the entire time. It’s not like Spider wanted Miles’ team to win - if anything, he was making calls in favor of Jiniraa’s team time and time again, but that wasn’t enough to secure a win for them. The final score was eleven-ten as Ja managed to intercept a ball meant for Mansk and dashed for the endzone just as the clock ran out.

The sun was beginning to set as the humans started clearing the outdoor space, retreating inside for dinner. Jiniraa sat down on the grass, watching as the sky blurred into rich reds and oranges. Miles approached, dropping a water bottle into her lap, “can I sit?”

Jiniraa nodded, not pulling her eyes away from the sky as Miles plopped on the ground, a little ‘hmph’ forced out as he made impact. Jinraa giggled, a soft smile placed on her lips.

“What’s so funny, hen?” Miles jeered. Jiniraa looked over her shoulder, giving Miles a once over before shaking her head. His tank top was still off and slung across his shoulder, abdominal muscles defined by how he leant back on one arm.

The lower half of her face was hidden in her shoulder, but Miles could see evidence of a smile as the sunset hit her eyes. Without thinking, he reached forward and brushed a piece of hair behind her ear, allowing his nails to graze the sensitive shell. Jiniraa’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact. 

“Still in public,” Jiniraa reminded, but made no effort to make him stop.

Miles glanced around, “humans are all inside. The bozos over there are trying to teach Spider how to throw a football. I found a human sized one yesterday.”

“You did?” Jiniraa opened her eyes just slightly, enough to see the softened expression Miles held as he continued to study her features. 

He hummed, “yeah, didn’t want him to feel left out.” As if on cue, Spider laughed out as he managed to hit Lopez square in the side of the head. The Recom let out a string of curses as Lyle almost fell to the ground in laughter, saying it was what he deserved. 

“That’s sweet of you,” Jiniraa offered up, watching the situation unfold past Miles.

Miles grumbled, “I’m not sweet.”

Jiniraa rolled her eyes at his response - he didn’t know how to take a compliment. With a sigh, she pulled her head away from his touch and returned to watching the sunset. 

“Sky is pretty tonight,” Miles offered after a few minutes of silence. 

Jiniraa didn’t respond. Not even a hum or nod. Since Miles was leaning back on his hands, he was given a perfect view of her side profile. A single tear rolled down her cheek, highlighted as the light hit it. He pushed himself forward to get a better look, making sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks. Jiniraa remained with her back straight as another tear followed. This time, Miles couldn’t help as he swiped it away. She didn’t move to swat his hands away - she didn’t move as her eyes remained trained forward.

Miles took her chin between his thumb and index finger, lightly pulling her to face him. She resisted for a second, but even when her head turned towards him, she refused to make eye contact, preferring to watch as everyone cheered when Spider finally threw the ball correctly. 

“Baby, what is it?”

Jiniraa shook her head, trying to pull away but Miles only tightened his grip. His eyes searched her, both face and body trying to decipher what was wrong. He even glanced down to her hip, trying to see if she somehow started bleeding again. 

Jiniraa finally swatted his hand away, wrapping her arms around her knees, “it’s nothing.”

“You wouldn’t be cryin’ if it was nothing.” Miles offered. Jiniraa mumbled something under her breath, muffled as she buried her head into her knees. “What’s that?”

“Confused,” it came out a little clearer.

“About?” Miles continued to pry. 

“You!” Jiniraa spun to face him. Her chest heaved as she held eye contact as long as she could bare before burying her face into her knees once more. Miles remained silent and Jinraa even wondered if he managed to sneak away. Hesitantly, Jiniraa peaked out from her hiding place to glance at Miles. He was still there. He looked younger in this soft light, the creases of his face weren’t present and his eyes looked a little brighter. It wasn’t angered or disgusted or anything bad. It was soft and full of love.

“It’s just,” she paused and groaned, “everyday I feel myself falling further and further from my family, from my people. I’m getting so wrapped up in life here that I am losing myself.”

Miles processed for a moment, “I see.” 

Wrong choice of words, buddy. 

Jiniraa spun to face him, bouncing up to rest on her knees as her chest began to heave again. She stuck a finger into his bare chest, but Miles did nothing to stop her, letting her have the moment, “no, that is the problem. You do not see. You do not know what it means to see and that is the problem. I see you, but you do not see me. Not the way I want.”

Miles held her gaze steady, not looking away for one second. He’d heard Spider and Jiniraa talking about their ‘seeing’ stuff, but none of it made sense to him. “What do you want?”

“To go back to the forest. To go back to my family. To give Spider his life back. To get my life back.” Jiniraa listed, not breaking their eye contact either. 

Miles pressed further, beginning to lean in ever so slightly, “is that all?”

“No,” Jiniraa sighed and looked away. Miles held his breath as he waited for her response. “You. I want you, but that is the problem. I want you and I cannot have you. Not truly. Not with everything else I want.”

“We’re going back out tomorrow, if that makes you feel better,” Miles offered, trying to cheer her up. Based on the way her eyes dropped down and hair tail fell still against the ground, it wasn’t the right thing to say. He completely ignored her blatant declaration of feelings, making her choke back a whimper. He pursed his lips, glancing back at the rest of the group as they remained engrossed with Spider. “Come’ere.”

Jiniraa glanced up, this time her eyes were downturned and teary rather than playful like earlier. Miles waited with one arm open, inviting her to sit between his legs. Slowly, she moved to place herself in front of him, a sigh of relief escaping her as his arms pulled her flush against his chest. She continued to watch the last remaining bit of light recede over the horizon as Miles pressed his lips against her temple, pausing to take a deep inhale of her scent. 

“Just so you know, you don’t have to want me. I promised myself to you that night under the stars. You have me as long as you want me.” Miles affirmed before his tone lightened into a little chuckle, “it’s me who wants you, baby. It’s been that way for a while.”

And well friends, that meant everything. 

Next - Seventeen - To See and To Choose

●●●

i'm sorry this chapter is shorter than usual. school has been kicking my ass recently and i have a lot going on since i'm graduating in may and have grad school and moving abroad within the next few months. i like to use this story as a little brain break and creative outlet, so i do apologize for clumsy storytelling or if you just hate it lmao. this was kinda a filler chapter because i just didn't have the emotional strength to write the next chapter (you're gonna like it hopefully winky winky).

i appreciate any feedback you have to offer!

Taglist - let me know if you'd like to be added

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

@oceandeepthirst2

@bolggerist

@mxddymay

@ttreader

@luciddasher

@sofiebstar

@azilove

@fairycaitlin

@graysonmalik2550

@quaritchxx

@dakotali

@lillybbyy

@biggestsimpever191919

@cr1mz0n-wh0r3

@waterborn-phoenix

#miles quaritch imagine #miles quaritch x oc #miles quaritch smut #miles quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #colonel quaritch x oc #colonel miles quaritch x oc #colonel quaritch #na'vi quaritch #na'vi oc #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar imagine #avatar x oc #avatar oc #avatar miles quaritch #navi quaritch #recoms #recom quaritch #recom wainfleet #recom quaritch x oc #avatar quaritch #quaritch #recom z dog #recom mansk #recombinant #long reads #promises to keep

[sadhours]

Wicked Sensation

part sixteen // billy hargrove x f!reader

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen | part fourteen | part fifteen | part sixteen | part seventeen

a/n: thanks for reading!!!!!! ❤️

word count: 6.5k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, pregnancy, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v

taglist: @blue-eyed-lion @bbyhargrove @sweet-villain @actuallyspencerreid @trapistani @sierrahhh @likeanimagepassingby2

Reality sets in as the plane touches down in Indiana, Billy’s heart aches as he stares out the window at miles of trees surrounding the small airport. The familiar tenseness of being in the same state as is father settles in his gut and he dreads going back to that home. He’s sure it’ll be like stepping into a war zone. He turns to you and asks, “Do you think your dad and Mary would mind me crashing at your place tonight?”

You shake your head, “Of course not.”

Billy figures after you two deliver the news of the pregnancy, there’d be no reason for the stupid open door rule. However, he worries the two of them might kill him, forbid you from seeing him again.

The car ride to your shared neighborhood is heavy to Billy, though your dad is chipper and asking about the trip, excitedly. He has no clue Billy’s knocked up his daughter. So, Billy tries to hide the forlorn sadness of being back in Hawkins. He squeezes your hand in the backseat when he sees Mary’s eyes close in on him from the rearview mirror. When they pull up to your house, Billy sees his Camaro parked in your driveway and he looks at it, puzzled.

“Your dad told me I might as well move it there,” Dale explains, “I might have taken her out for a few drives. Hope you don’t mind.”

Billy kind of does, but he shrugs, “I’m sure she needed it.”

As you stand outside the car, grabbing out the luggage, Billy repeatedly glances to his house and Neil’s truck in the driveway. You speak up then, “Uh, dad… Mary, can Billy stay the night tonight?”

Mary looks to Billy, noting his obvious fear and then to your dad, “Sure. That will be fine, right sweetie?”

“Yeah, whenever you need to, Billy,” your dad says and starts bringing the luggage inside. Billy stands outside, still, waiting for Neil to come stomping over and screaming before dragging him inside and beating him with a belt. It doesn’t happen.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist and pull him inside the house with you. Once you both get the luggage upstairs to your room, Billy sits on your bed with a sigh. You curl beside him, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing his cheek.

“I don’t know where I’m gonna live,” he says, “I’m sure he’s already packed my shit up.”

“It’s okay, Billy, you can stay here. You know that. We’ll save up and we can go find an apartment somewhere,” you assure him as you play with a few of his loose curls.

He heaves another sigh, “When are we gonna tell them?” His question is a whisper, Mary’s been known to hover by the door to eavesdrop.

“Soon,” you inform him, “Not tonight, but soon.”

Billy lays down on the bed and closes his eyes. You’d love to lay beside him and kiss his worries away but you desperately need a shower. You lean down and whisper in his ear, “Take a nap, baby. I’m gonna shower, I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

And with that, you’re leaving the room, closing the door behind you. Billy readjusts himself so his head is at your pillow. His eyes fall on the forgotten contraceptive case on your nightstand and his stomach churns. He’s gonna be a dad and the fear of turning out like Neil forces tears in his eyes, teetering out onto his cheeks as he shoves his face into your pillow to muffle his labored breathing. As if you put some kind of spell on him, he passes out without realize how exhausted he actually is.

“Billy…” you coo, tucking his hair behind his ear and stroking your thumb along his cheekbone. “Dinner is ready. A nice home cooked meal.”

He moans, wanting to keep sleeping but his stomach grumbles in protest. His eyes force themselves open and he looks up at you, the golden sun filtering through your sheer curtains and lighting up your skin beautifully.

“You’re tan,” he realizes aloud, smiling lazily.

You glance down at your arms and then back at him, cheeks flushed, “Huh, guess California sun likes me better than Florida.”

He sits up and leans into your lips to give you a tender kiss, then the panic sets in again. “Have they come looking for me?”

You shake your head, standing up and putting your hands out for him to grab, “Max was outside skating a bit, but she just waved to me when she saw me.”

He lets you lift him to his feet, patting the top of your head when he’s standing. His eyes dart to the window again and he can see Neil’s truck in the driveway still. He figures the fight can wait until tomorrow and pretends his father doesn’t exist as he follows you to the kitchen. He takes a place next to you at the table, graciously taking the water Mary offers him and gulps it down.

“Thank you,” he nods, breathless and then looks down at the food. Steak and baked potatoes, a rather nice meal which Billy had thought would’ve been out of your dads budget. “Things going well at the shop?” he asks, cutting his steak up.

“Very well,” your dad admits, “In fact, I don’t have enough hands. You wouldn’t be interested, would you?”

Billy smiles to him, “Actually, I would. Can’t be a lifeguard forever.”

“Billy actually worked for a mechanic before, in San Diego,” you tell your dad with a wink to your boyfriend.

“Oh, yeah? What kind of stuff did you do there?” your dad asks before shoveling potato into his mouth.

“Oil changes, mostly. A few tire changes and break replacements,” he shrugs, “I only worked there for six months before we moved.”

Your dad nods, “How about you come in Monday?”

Billy smiles, “Okay, sounds awesome. Thanks, Dale.”

Your brother speaks up now, “Did you guys get in a fight?”

Both you and Billy look at him curiously and he continues, “You got bruises all over your necks.”

You flush, throwing a piece of steak at your little brother for teasing you. However, Billy seems to think he’s actually oblivious to what they are, “Yeah, I won.”

“Oh, my god,” you hang your head, eyes trained on the plate in front of you, afraid to see the horrified looks on your dad and Mary’s faces.

“So how was the rental car?” The savior, your father, changes the subject and Billy let’s out a borderline aroused sigh.

“My god, that car was incredible,” he gushes, “Handled like a dream. Thank you for that, really.”

“What car did you get them?” Mary asks with a lifted brow.

“A ‘79 L82 Corvette,” Billy recites, “It was fucking gorgeous.”

“How much did that cost, Dale?” she asks incredulously to which your father shrugs.

“Don’t worry about it, Mary. The kid deserved it.”

Billy feels his chest swell. He’d never heard anyone say something like that about him. His own father was always telling him he didn’t deserve anything and he was a total disappointment. He really appreciated your dad, seeing a healthy father figure in him and was suddenly incredibly excited to work for him.

“Thanks again, I really appreciated it,” he says.

Dale grins, “Glad you liked it. The mayor brought his in the other month and I got to drive it around a bit. Figured you would appreciate the car as much as I do.”

Billy nods, “Oh, I did. A bit of a struggle with the surfboards but we managed.” He turns to you and smiles, “This one here actually caught a couple waves.”

You blush, “I was being dragged underwater mostly.”

“You plan on moving back?” Your dad asks Billy.

He sighs, “Yeah, one day. I gotta find a place here like yesterday.”

Mary looks at him quizzically, “Parents won’t let you stay there?”

Billy’s face winces, the subject not one he’s willing to be truthful about. Can’t admit his dad kicked him out at the first sign of lost control, the first time Billy firmly stood up for himself. “Ya know, summer jobs over, I’m eighteen, gotta grow up.”

Mary frowns, “Do you need somewhere to stay in the meantime?”

He’s not so good at accepting help, afraid he’ll seem weak if he faces the fact that he might need it. “Maybe,” he shrugs, “I’ll probably couch surf for a bit.”

Dale shakes his head, “You can stay here whenever you need.”

“I appreciate it. I’ll let you know.”

After dinner, Billy tells you he needs to run and grab smokes.

“You just want to spend time with your other girlfriend,” you tease.

“Psh,” he laughs, “Ol’ blue? I haven’t seen her in three weeks. I know she’s begging for me to drive her.”

You’re glad Billy got your joke, you kiss his cheek, “Don’t be out too late with her.”

Once he’s out the door you decide to get started on Billy’s laundry from the trip. Separating the colors as you dig through the suitcase you’d dragged downstairs. You’re focused on the task at hand, not seeing when Mary lodges herself between the doorframe so you jump when you see her.

“God, you startled me,” you hold a hand to your chest.

She apologizes, “Sorry. Did you have a good trip?”

You nod, tossing a shirt in the washer and then reaching for the detergent. You begin pouring it in the cup, pulling the lever to start the water, “It was really nice. Billy liked being home.”

“So when are you gonna tell him?” she asks and you freeze, immediately assuming she knows and she’s asking when you were going to tell your dad that you’re pregnant.

Terrified, you remember how you would play dumb to get out of trouble with your dad.

“Tell who, what?”

“Billy. When are you gonna tell him you haven’t been taking your birth control?” Mary demands, tone sharp and judgmental.

You turn to her, unable to control it as your eyes get misty. You grab onto her wrist and pull her into the laundry room, closing the door behind you. Her demeanor changes after seeing the emotion forming tears. Softer, concerned as she rubs your arm and looks at you with a tilt of her head.

“I forgot it here and I didn’t realize until… until it was too late,” you admit, voice wavering while hot tears stain your cheeks. It’s hard to talk, chest tight and your throat closing.

“Too late?” she whispers, hoarsely. “Y/n, are you….”

“Pregnant,” you hiccup out, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Honey…” she sighs and pulls you into a motherly hug. “Does Billy know?”

You nod, sobs shaking through you as you try to answer, “He went through my purse and saw the test.”

“What does he want to do?” she asks, “What do you want to do?”

You both talked in depth about it the days following him finding out. Billy was intrigued with the idea in a way you never expected, albeit he seemed sexually excited about having gotten you pregnant and he mentioned numerous times about how your breasts would swell but when you had asked him seriously if he wanted to go through with it, he admitted the idea was terrifying but something about getting rid of it did not sit right with him. Told you when he thought about it he felt sick. You felt the same way. You weren’t ready to be a mother but how many people were? As long as you both tried, how bad could it be?

“We want to keep it,” you admit, pulling back to gauge her reaction.

Mary couldn’t have kids. You believe that’s why she settled into the mother role in your family so easily. You also thought that because she couldn’t have children, she’d be hesitant to suggest you don’t go through with the pregnancy.

“I think that’s the right idea,” she says and smiles at you. “I have no clue how your father will react, but you two have my support. However, this town is small, too small and people talk. You two should seriously considered getting married and moving into a place together.”

You’d fantasized about it, about marrying Billy but you didn’t dare bring it up to him. His upbringing wasn’t something he ever seemed up for talking about and you worried the trauma would turn him off from the whole ideal of domesticity.

“I need to talk to him about that stuff…” you sigh and turn to his suitcase, realizing you already do small things that maybe a wife would do. You didn’t exactly have the greatest example growing up.

“And you two have to sit your dad down, tell him. I can’t keep this a secret,” she warns with her eyes straight.

You agree with a nod, you’d been thinking about ways to tell him since the test turned blue. You still had the vial in your purse, hoping it would become a happy memento.

You hear the front door open and shut, alerting you that Billy was back. Mary leans back to open the door, shooting him a curious look which instructs him to walk over.

“Oh, thanks, babe,” he says when he sees you’re washing his clothes, “you didn’t have to do that.”

Mary eyes him, “Congratulations, Billy.”

“She knows,” he says to you, eyes worried.

You nod, wiping the tears from your cheeks before reaching out for him. He barrels through, arms circling you protectively and you squeeze him.

“She thinks it’s a good idea we want to keep it,” you reassure him with a whisper against his ear.

Mary places a hand on each of you, “Have that talk,” she says to you and wanders back to her and your dads bedroom.

“Smoke?” he offers, holding up the pack of cigarettes and you giggle. He bought Marlboro lights instead of Reds. Thinking of baby. You grab onto his arm and pull him out front. You two sit on the stoop, facing where he used to live. You snuggle up with him and watch as he lights the cigarette, sucking harder than normal.

He looks at it displeased and you’re aware they don’t hit like a regular one but you’re floored with his attempt anyway. It was such a thoughtful gesture you want to get on your knees and ask him to marry you, which brings what Mary said to the forefront of your brain.

“What do you think about marriage, Billy?”

His fingers pass you the cigarette and he rubs your back, “Are you hinting at something or genuinely curious?”

“I guess both. Mary thinks we should have a shotgun wedding. She’s worried what people will think of us,” you inform him, resting your head against his shoulder while you take a drag.

“I’m sure my dad will say I have to marry you when he finds out I knocked you up,” he replies and you sigh. He kisses your temple, “Marriage is scary but at this moment in time… I can’t imagine being with another woman.”

“Why is it scary?” you ask, knowing the answer. You were scared for the same reason but you figured Billy might need to talk this one through.

He bites his lip and looks over at Neil’s truck, flashes of his mother coming to him, the yelling matches, the physical fights but the tenderness she had for Billy also comes to mind. “What if I’m like him?”

“You’re not,” you assure him, fingers gripping the back of his calve. “I don’t think that man has a soft edge to him. Yours are coming in. Besides Billy, I’ve seen you with the kids at the pool, you’ll be a great dad.”

“A good husband?”

You blush, fantasizing about it, “The fucking best.”

Billy scrunches his face up, “How can you be so sure?”

You turn to him, “You already give me everything I could ever want or need. You’re patient, forgiving and so incredibly thoughtful.”

He sighs, snaking the cigarette from you, “What if it’s genetic? Hard to believe my mom would’ve married him if he was horrible from the get go.”

“Billy, baby…” you place a hand on his cheek and turn his face so your eyes meet, “What I feel because of you is so… intense and wonderful, there’s no way you could turn into him.”

Billy’s heart feels heavy in his chest, his eyes get misty as this is such a contrast to the usual things he hears about himself. You allow him to feel so vulnerable that he selfishly wants to take it for everything it is. He wants to wake up next to you for the rest of his life, aches to make a big ol’ family with you. He feels giddy at the thought of a bunch of little tots running around the house while you cook and he plays with the kids. It seems too good to be remotely possible.

“I’ll get back to you on the marriage thing,” he says, “But I need you to know it’s not all scary, I think it sounds pretty nice, too.”

“I really love you,” you whisper.

“I love you too,” he replies.

-

You wake with Billy’s morning wood pressed against your ass and you swear you feel him grinding against you. You’d closed the door last night, figuring Mary’s rule was a lost cause at this point. At least you weren’t impregnated in the house.

You grab onto his hand and bring it to your breast, pushing your bum against his erection. Billy groans and his hand squeezes you. So he is awake, you think. You giggle and lean your head back against his shoulder.

“Good morning,” you mumble hazily, sleep still clouding your head.

Billy makes a garbled noise in response, it’s definitely words but you can’t understand them. You can hear that Mary is blasting music, it’s Sunday which is the day she deep cleans the house and most weeks, she wakes you for help. So a little morning quickie might be risky but that could make it more fun. You slowly grind your ass against him, earning a low moan from your boyfriend as he places sleepy kisses along your neck. You move your hand up behind your head to tangle your fingers in his frizzy curls. He pulls up your top, just over your breasts and lazily plays with your perked nipple. Your body tingles all over, the way he touches you ignites every nerve. Your core is buzzing with arousal.

“Billy…” you gasp, softly and you can feel him smirk against your neck.

His fingers slip down into your waistband and he groans when he feels through your soaking folds, “God, you’re so wet.”

You tilt your head back and nod, “Just can’t get enough of you.”

Billy slides two fingers inside your pussy with ease, licking against your neck as you clench around him. You melt at his touch. Every time Billy touches you it feels like you’re floating, almost like you’re under a spell or something.

His breath his hot against your ear when he laughs softly, “Yeah?”

You grind your ass against him again, “Mhm. Want you so bad. All the time.”

Billy curls his thick fingers deep before hurrying his pace, fucking you with his fingers. You spread your legs, your jaw dropping open as your breath hitches in your throat. You’re so close, feeling the sensation sinking in your stomach.

Knock, Knock.

Billy’s fingers leave you in seconds and you’ve never been more frustrated, catching your breath as you try not to cry from the ruined moment. You were seconds away from coming all over Billy’s fingers.

“What?” you manage to choke out, unable to hide the irritation in your voice.

Billy rolls onto his stomach after pulling your top down, faking sleep and hiding his boner. You sit up as the door opens, pretending to rub your eyes from sleep and not because they’re leaking tears from frustration of a halted orgasm.

“Mary asked me to come wake you two,” your dad explains, “She’d like you to come help clean.”

“Kay,” you say, “We’ll be down soon.”

Your dad nods, awkwardly smiling before closing the door. You listen to his footsteps fading away and you lay back down, awaiting Billy’s fingers to return pleasuring you but they don’t.

“Billy,” you whine, turning to him when he rolls back over onto his back. “Come on,” you grab at his arm and pull it towards you. He chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead before getting up out of the bed.

“You’ve got to go help clean,” he grins, “We’ll just have to finish later.” Billy reaches for his jeans, jumping into them as he watches you gape at him from the bed.

“You’re so mean,” you gripe, kicking your legs in the air.

Billy grabs onto your ankle, tugging you to the end of the bed and then pulls you so you’re standing with him. “Take it as a lesson,” he purrs, fingertips ghosting up and down your ribs.

“S’a dumb lesson,” you mumble, still trying hard to push your arousal away. But the way Billy had just manhandled you made it about ten times worse.

“Don’t be a brat,” Billy warns you, pulling away to find his shirt.

-

Billy is such a fucking dick. First, it was when you were vacuuming and he just had to get around you, pressing against your ass and muttering a sickly, sweet apology. He’s not even cleaning like he said he would. He’s just watching and inconveniencing you the whole time.

Trying your best to ignore him, you grab the Windex and spray the window. As your wiping the solution off with the rag, you feel Billy’s breath on your neck. He purses his lips and he presses his body against yours from behind, reaching out and and pointing at the window.

“Huh,” he sounds, lips so close to your ear, “You missed a spot.”

Chills run up your spine, and you elbow Billy. “Fuck off,” you turn and glare up at him.

He chuckles, patting your bum and walking back into the kitchen to get his coffee. You get a bit of peace when he goes to the backyard for a cigarette. You’d wished Mary wasn’t tucked away deep cleaning her and your dads closet so Billy wouldn’t be so bold to tease you so much. You did like it, but you were still pretty pissed off from this morning.

You’re cleaning the counters when he finally sends you over the edge. Billy waltzes into the kitchen, stopping at the bowl of fruit on the table and picks up a peach. He rinses the fruit and leans on the island counter, directly across from where you’re scrubbing at a particularly tough stain. Your gaze shoots up when he takes a bite, the obscene squelch alerting your attention. Your eyes are locked on his mouth, his pink and plumps lips shiny from the juice of the peach and it drips down his hand and wrist. He lifts hand to lick the mess, his tongue broad against his wrist. Breath catching in your throat, you’re in a trance. Your hands continue moving the washcloth back and forth on the counter but you’re not even watching what you’re doing, unable to look away from his lips and tongue as he devours the peach in an erotic show. The way he’s slurping up the sticky, sweet wetness from the supple peach reminds of something and you’re biting your lip to stifle the moan erupting from your throat.

He straightens up and walks around the island, holding the peach up to your lips. “Have some,” he offers, licking his lips and looking into your eyes.

You shiver under his gaze but you lean in to take a bite of the fruit he’s offered and you’re certain you don’t look quite as sexy as he did. In fact, you’re sure you look awkward and silly. Juice drips down your chin and Billy’s rushing to lick it up and then kissing you, flicking his tongue against your lips. You part your lips, eagerly welcoming his tongue inside. You taste the peach and you feel dizzy, having to grip onto his shirt so you don’t melt in a puddle on the floor. But he’s pulling away too quick and you whimper, eyes opening to see him smirking at you around another bite of the peach. He wanders away, turning his back to you and you pick up the damp washcloth and throw it at him.

“Hey,” he turns around, picking it off the floor and looking at you, “That wasn’t very nice.”

“You’re not being nice,” you seethe, uncomfortably wet in your panties.

“Who’s not being nice?” Mary asks as she strolls into the kitchen with a laundry basket. She plops it on the counter and starts putting away the dishrags she’s washed.

“No one,” Billy says with a tight smile, “We’re just playing.”

You squint your eyes at him, ripping the washcloth from his hand and tossing it in the sink. He cackles, tosses the peach in the trash and announces, “Well, I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Good,” you quip, “You need one.”

Mary glances curiously between the two of you and asks once Billy descends down the hall, “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” you grumble, tucking your hair behind your ear as she gives you a pressing look. “He’s right. We were just playing. Not actually fighting.”

She shrugs and leans against the counter, “Are you two gonna tell your dad today?”

Your stomach flips, you’d kind of forgotten you were pregnant with all of the ‘playing’ Billy was doing to do today. He made it really easy to forget about scary, important things.

“Today?”

“Yes,” Mary insists, “You’ve got to tell him. Especially if Billy plans on moving in.”

“It’s been one day of him staying here, what do you mean moving in?”

“Does he have anywhere else to go?” Mary challenges softly and your heart aches because he doesn’t. At least, you can’t think of anywhere he could go.

“His dad is… scary,” you admit, keeping your voice hushed so Billy doesn’t overhear you. “I don’t want him to have to go back.”

“Honey, your dad and I are fine with him staying here but all I ask is you two tell your dad you’re pregnant. Today,” she says.

“Fine,” you heave a sigh. “We’ll tell him tonight.”

-

You’re laid on your stomach on the bed when Billy finally finishes his shower, magazine laid out in front of you. Defiantly, you stare at the glossy pages instead of at him like you really want to. In your peripheral, you can see him scrunching the water out of his hair with a towel. His eyes are on you, you can feel them. He’s walking over and then you see white, the damp towel being tossed over your head as you hear his howling laugh. You pull it off and scowl up at him.

“You’re in quite the mood today,” you express, annoyed.

He ruffles up your hair, “I’m just having fun.”

You roll your eyes and flip the page, “Tormenting me is fun to you?”

He pulls the magazine from your gaze and drops it to the floor, sitting in its place. “You like it,” he retorts, placing his knuckle under your chin and guiding your face up to look at him.

“No, I don’t,” you state, knowing it’s a lie.

He chuckles, “I find that hard to believe. If I’d reached into your panties in the kitchen, it would be a mess.”

He was right, you had to change them when you got upstairs because of how ruined they were. And he’s doing it to you again. The predatory haze in his eyes and the soft, yet commanding grip on your chin send shockwaves straight to your core. Even if you weren’t so pent up from all the days teasing, you’d still be reacting to him like this.

“How long until dinner?” he asks.

You make a dumbfounded look at him, confused why he’s concerned about that. Is he that hungry? “Uh, probably a couple hours. Why?”

Billy smirks, standing up from the bed and turning on your stereo system, the last cassette you’d enjoyed flooding from the speakers. He strides back over to you, gripping your arms and pulling you up. Oh, you think, excitedly, that’s why he’s asking.

“Figured you’ve been good enough today,” he mumbles, laying you on your back and crawling on top of you.

Finally.

You spread your legs to accommodate his thick thighs, raising your hands above your head. His strong hands smooth up your sides, your shirt bunching up with them. He traces the bare skin with his fingertips and presses his lips to your jaw. Goosebumps raise all over your skin, a chill running up your spine as you illicit a tiny whimper. He smirks against your skin and slips his fingers into your waistband, tugging your shorts down. He sits up to guide them down your legs and you bring your thighs against your chest to help. Repeating the same motion with your underwear. You press your feet back on the sheets, gazing up at him in anticipation.

“Fuck,” Billy growls, “You’re so wet.”

He drags his fingers down your folds, leaning down to press an eager kiss to your lips. You grab onto his jaw, moaning into his mouth while he slides his two fingers inside your aching hole. Billy’s pace is slow but he spreads his fingers every time he pulls back, stretching you out.

You push him back and look up at him, “No more teasing. I can’t take it.”

He smiles back at you, biting his lower lip as he does so. Your voice is so desperate, sounding like you’re on the verge of tears. And while Billy really wants to keep pushing until you’re a crying, pleading mess, he knows how cruel that is. So he pushes his sweats and briefs down, grabbing a hold of his cock and sliding it into you with ease. You moan out at the sensation of finally being full. You’d been craving this since you woke up and his teasing had wound you up tight. You have to stop yourself from thrashing against him, wanting to maintain some composure but you can’t stop your hips from moving in some way, jolting against him in unsteady thrusts.

He smoothes your hair back from your face, grinning wickedly as he lets you do all the work. He looks all too amused by this, frustrating you endlessly.

“Would you just fuck me already?” you huff, grabbing a hold of his curls and pulling.

Billy laughs at that but he listens, pinning your hips to the mattress with his. He grinds against you but the lack of speed in his movements agitates you more. If he wasn’t so strong, you’d force him on his back and show him exactly what you wanted. Then you realize you do have a way to get Billy to do what you want and acting like a petulant brat isn’t the way to go.

You pant now, “Please, Billy…” arching your back, “I need it so bad… please. Pretty please.”

His eyes light up, “That’s a good girl. Beg for it.”

You could scream. The ardency in his voice sending you right into that crying puddle he wanted you to be.

“Please,” you whimper, “Please fuck me, Billy. Can’t take it anymore.”

He groans before crashing his lips against yours, his hands angling your hips up and at last pounds into you. Every thrust erupting a moan out of you, “Ah-ah-ah!”

You’re grateful he had the foresight to turn your stereo on because with the force he’s drilling into, it would be impossible to stay quiet. He grabs onto your wrist and guides your hand between your legs, once you’re rubbing against your clit he grabs your face and squishes your cheeks together.

“Cum for me, babygirl,” he orders breathlessly, his intense blues scanning your face.

The tightness inside you finally releases, your back arching and the way he’s smooshing your face muffles the scream tearing out of your throat. Billy doesn’t relent, in fact, you’re sure he goes even faster and harder if it’s possible. You’re not exactly able to comprehend much, the earth shattering orgasm making everything go numb for a bit. You’re hazy, dazed and laying there with dreamy smile and misty eyes. You feel Billy’s cum splatter onto your stomach and chest.

His chaotic, pleased laugh brings you back to reality and you hum at him.

“I gotta do that more often. I fucked you dumb,” he laughs, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you.

“Hmm,” you hum again, smiling still.

“Oh, no,” Billy hovers his face over yours, “Did I break you? You still with me?” He snaps his fingers in front your eyes and looks down at you concerned.

“I’m with you,” you whisper out, your voice hoarse and breathless.

He presses a loving kiss to your forehead, moving to grab something to clean his mess up. Once he does, you sit up and touch your throat. It’s so dry. You swing your legs over the bed and try to stand up but your legs won’t stop shaking and you fall back into the mattress.

Billy scoffs, seemingly impressed with himself as he leans against your dresser. “Jesus Christ, I really did a number on you, huh?”

“Water,” you plead, staring up at your ceiling. The satisfied smile hasn’t left your face. You hear Billy shut off the stereo and shuffle around, assuming that he’s getting dressed. He kisses your forehead again, pushing your hair back. “I’ll be right back, babe.”

-

Dinner is awkward, really awkward. You’re still a little spacey. Billy had to help you walk to the kitchen, which had Mary glaring at you. But hey, you were already pregnant, what was the harm now?

You knew you and Billy would have to break the news to your father after dinner and you hadn’t exactly told Billy you had to do that. You take the opportunity when he excuses himself out back for a smoke. You follow him, snatching one for yourself and sit on the edge of the deck with him. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, “Glad to see you’re coming back to earth.”

“Yeah… that was… I’ve never felt like that before,” you admit.

Billy blushes, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”

“I liked it,” your cheeks match his.

He chuckles, pulling your face to his for a chaste kiss. “I hope I can do it again.”

“I believe in you,” you chirp and giggle. Then you turn your face serious, “Listen… we’ve got to tell my dad I’m pregnant when we go back in there.”

Billy sighs, dropping his arm from your shoulder, “You think he’s gonna kill me?”

You shrug, “Maybe.” Unable to mask it, your lips curl up into a smile, “I’m joking. He likes you, he won’t kill you.”

He rolls his eyes, “I’m not so sure.”

Grabbing into his jaw, you turn him to look at you again, “Hey, baby. It’s okay. The worst he’s gonna do is make you marry me.”

Billy laughs and you’re happy to see that smile again, even if he’s laughing at the prospect of marrying you. Then it’s falling again, “God. I haven’t even really thought about what my dad would say… or do.”

“We’ll tell him when you’re ready. If that’s never… then that’s fine too.”

Billy kisses you, biting at your bottom lip and when he pulls back he presses his forehead to yours, just looking at you. You feel hot under his gaze, always do. He pinches your cheek and stands to his feet, “Well, let’s go see if I have to marry you.”

With a roll of your eyes, you follow him back inside, seeing that Mary and your dad are seated at the table and they both look at you expectantly. Billy laces his fingers with yours and guides you into the kitchen.

“Mary says you two got something to tell me,” your dad says with an eyebrow raised curiously.

She was gonna make sure you two told him tonight. You nod and look up at Billy, who swallows the lump in his throat. You sit at the table, never letting go of Billy’s hand.

“So… I know the timing isn’t awesome but it’s not like we planned it or anything…” you start, glancing to Mary and seeing her confused expression. Apparently you weren’t saying the right thing. What was the right way to say this?

“Uh…” you turn to look at Billy, but he’s looking straight down at the table. You clear your throat and he looks up at you, his eyes begging you not to make him talk. You glance back to your dad’s bewildered face.

So you sigh heavily and squeeze your eyes shut, “I’m pregnant.”

When you don’t hear anything, you peek one eye open to see your dad. He doesn’t look angry, he doesn’t look shocked but he looks sad. And you think maybe that’s worse.

“They want to keep it, Dale,” Mary whispers to him and your dad just nods.

“So are you two going to find a place together then?” Your dad asks, “I know times are different and all but, are you gonna get married? What’s your plan?”

You look to Billy, his eyes still burning holes into the table. You had no idea. There wasn’t a plan. Actually, you guys hadn’t talked too much about the pregnancy at all. Only that you both wanted it.

“Well…” you look to Billy, “I guess we don’t know.”

Your dad scoffs, “Having a kid is a big responsibility. And trust me, I want grandkids. I thought it would be a while but these things happen. Hell, you weren’t planned. Your mom and I were a little older but it was still rough.”

“I know,” you mumble. You’re upset Billy hasn’t said anything but you know you struggled to find any words at the moment.

“Don’t get me wrong, if you’re happy, I’m happy,” your dad says, “The first thing anyone should say is congratulations, you’re just still my baby.”

Billy looks up at the table, at your dad now and smiles weakly. He knows he’s got to step up, knows this is a family he wants to be a part of. Maybe it’s because your dad didn’t immediately leap over the table to choke him out.

“Thank you for… not being mad, I guess,” he says. It’s something.

Your dad stands up, “Well you two have nine months to prepare. Then the really hard part comes.” He walks around the table and pulls you into a hug, squeezing you tight. You hug him back, choking back tears. You can’t hold them back when he pulls Billy in for a hug, seeing the way Billy hesitates at first but accepts it. You quickly wipe them away, chewing your bottom lip.

“Start working on your plan,” your dad says to the two of you.

When Mary and him walk back towards their room, Billy laces his fingers in yours and heaves a big sigh, “God, I thought he was gonna murder me.”

#billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove

[truthseeker-blogger]

A TREMENDOUS MACHINE

~HOME ALONE~

I threw myself with a passion into that final week before the Belmont. Out to the barn every morning, home late at night, I became almost manic. The night before the race, I called Laurin at home and we talked for a long while about the horse and the Belmont. I kept wondering, What is Secretariat going to do for an encore? Laurin said, “I think he’s going to win by more than he has ever won in his life. I think he’ll win by ten.”

I slept at the Newsday offices that night, and at 2 A.M. I drove to Belmont Park to begin my vigil at the barn. I circled around to the back of the shed, lay down against a tree and fell asleep. I awoke to the crowing of a cock and watched as the stable workers showed up. At 6:07, Hoeffner strode into the shed, looked at Secretariat, and called out to Sweat: “Get the big horse ready! Let’s walk him about fifteen minutes.

Sweat slipped into the stall, put the lead shank on Secretariat and handed it to Davis, who led the colt to the outdoor walking ring. In a small stable not 30 feet away, pony girl Robin Edelstein knocked a water bucket against the wall. Secretariat, normally a docile colt on a shank, rose up on his hind legs, pawing at the sky, and started walking in circles. Davis cowered below, as if beneath a thunderclap, snatching at the chain and begging the horse to come down. Secretariat floated back to earth. He danced around the ring as if on springs, his nostrils flared and snorting, his eyes rimmed in white.

Unaware of the scene she was causing, Edelstein rattled the bucket again, and Secretariat spun in a circle, bucked and leaped in the air, kicking and spraying cinders along the walls of the pony barn. In a panic, Davis tugged at the shank, and the horse went up again, higher and higher, and Davis bent back yelling, “Come on down! Come on down!”

I stood in awe. I had never seen a horse so fit. The Derby and Preakness had wound him as tight as a watch, and he seemed about to burst out of his coat. I had no idea what to expect that day in the Belmont, with him going a mile and a half, but I sensed we would see more of him than we had ever seen before.

Secretariat ran flat into legend, started running right out of the gate and never stopped, ran poor Sham into defeat around the first turn and down the backstretch and sprinted clear, opening two lengths, four, then five. He dashed to the three-quarter pole in 1:09 4/5, the fastest six-furlong clocking in Belmont history. I dropped my head and cursed Turcotte: What is he thinking about? Has he lost his mind? The colt raced into the far turn, opening seven lengths past the half-mile pole. The timer flashed his astonishing mile mark: 1:34 1/5!

I was seeing it but not believing it. Secretariat was still sprinting. The four horses behind him disappeared. He opened ten. Then twelve. Halfway around the turn, he was fourteen in front . . . fifteen . . . sixteen . . . seventeen. Belmont Park began to shake. The whole place was on its feet. Turning for home, Secretariat was twenty in front, having run the mile and a quarter in 1:59 flat, faster than his Derby time.

He came home alone. He opened his lead to twenty-five . . . twenty-six . . . twenty-seven . . . twenty-eight. As rhythmic as a rocking horse, he never missed a beat. I remember seeing Turcotte look over to the timer, and I looked over too. It was blinking 2:19, 2:20. The record was 2:26 3/5. Turcotte scrubbed on the colt, opening thirty lengths, finally thirty-one. The clock flashed crazily: 2:22 . . . 2:23. The place was one long, deafening roar. The colt seemed to dive for the finish, snipping it clean at 2:24.

I bolted up the press box stairs with exultant shouts and there yielded a part of myself to that horse forever.

Excerpt From: Nack, William. Secretariat👑👑👑

William Nack, American journalist and author

#we love secretariat page #bill nack

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Runaway - Chapter Sixteen.

Sorry to keep you hanging on this guys! Here you go, though, looking forward to your thoughts as ever, thanks for being such a beautiful audience! As usual, 30 notes unlock the next chapter :)

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 1,943

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“I did a bad thing.”

The force of the sigh that came from Shonda could have sent a lone vessel over a hundred miles out to sea as Hannah sat down with her on the couch in the bar they were at, wondering what on earth it was this time.  

“White girl, when I need to start taking beta blockers for all the fucking heart palpitations I regularly receive from your antics, I’m sending you the bill!” Lifting her ice-cold beer to her lips, she took a good, fortifying glug, Hannah sipping at her vodka and cranberry before placing the glass down.  

“I had sex with Manny.”

Shonda’s eyes widened, reaching to place her beer down on the table, Hannah having to guide her there when her attempts only made the glass come into contact with the thin air. “Pumpkin!”

“I know!”

“He’s engaged!”

“I know! But if it counts for anything, he isn’t happy with her.”

“That doesn’t make it right!”

Hannah groaned, hiding her face behind her hands for a moment. “I’m aware, and I know this is me being me, again.”

“Imma need this beer back, shit.” Lifting her glass, Shonda all but drained it, burping discreetly behind her hand. “Excuse me. Right, back to Manny. Oh, I swear for lord, your impulsiveness is going to be your ruin one day, Hannah Elizabeth Gray. You get yourself into these situations every time, because you just can’t stop yourself.” She took a breath, realising that the time for admonishing her had come and gone. “So, how was it?”

Hannah closed her eyes for a second, and it flashed through her mind, the night of sexual perfection they’d enjoyed, the aftermath even sweeter when after she’d fed Lola in the early hours, they’d all lain in bed together, the baby between her parents, looking between them as she played with her feet. It had been beautiful, just the three of them. A little family.  

“It was amazing. I swear, maybe if he wasn’t so criminally good in bed, it might not have happened, but he is, and he’s gorgeous, and he told me that he’d missed me, and he made me feel beautiful again! And then we just lay there with the baby a few hours afterwards, and it was perfect,” she explained, resting her hand beneath her chin. “And I can’t have it, because he still went back to Carmen.”

Shonda was puzzled. “Were you expecting it to be something else, then, rather than the bad thing you alluded to?”  

“I don’t know, no... yes... I mean...” She paused to gather her thoughts, taking a swig of her drink, the alcohol helping her focus. “I didn’t think to begin with, I just went with it. We wanted one another and I didn’t go into it with any expectations, but he kept telling me he missed me, and it was so fucking... it wasn’t just a mindless, brutal fuck. It was beautiful. And then lying there with Lola afterwards, I felt like something had shifted. Something significant.”  

“So, how did you guys leave it?” She felt this was the next most pertinent question to ask.  

“Well, it wasn’t awkward, but we made no mention of it. He left at 6am and I won’t hear from him now until he comes to pick Lola up on Thursday. I don’t really know what to say to him about it, how to tell him, that I think I want it to be more with him. Because no matter that he told me about how he isn’t happy at the moment, and I heard why, she called him when he was at mine and gave him hell for deciding to be there with me instead of going home to her, I still don’t know if that definitely points to him wanting to be with me. It was on the night of that huge storm, that it happened,” she explained.

“Right, right,” Shonda nodded in interjection.

“And so yeah. Everything she feared would happen actually did, he ended up cheating on her with me. I do feel lousy about that, I do. He’s someone else’s fiancé, and it was wrong for us to just fall so easily into bed with one another, but, but, oh, hell...”

Shonda rested her hand on her shoulder, softly stroking her skin with her thumb. “He’s the father of your child, someone who, no matter how briefly your first coming together was, you have a connection with.”

She nodded, feeling a little teary, Shonda quick to pull her into a warm hug. “Yeah, that’s it. And now I’ve messed it all up.”  

“Just talk to him,” she advised, stroking her back fondly. “Because if he feels the same about you, then you might be doing exactly what he did for you; saving him from marrying someone he shouldn’t be.”  

Meanwhile, across town, someone else was settling in for afternoon drinks. Except his weren’t a precursor to lunch and an afternoon out shopping with his bestie.  

“Any particular reason you’re pounding ‘em back at 2pm?” Taza asked as Manny poured another shot of Patron.

He straightened, lifting the glass to his lips, sinking the contents. “Shall we just say because I’m a fuck up and leave it at that?”

The elder man nodded, leaving it there. “Here, take him for me. I gotta go head down to Vicky’s with Riz.” Lowering his shoulder, Charlie scampered off onto Manny’s arm, giving himself a little groom as his new human perch rested his head back down on his fist with a sigh. Whereas Taza was content to leave him to it, the same could not be said for the bird.  

“Sad. Why sad?”  

“I ain’t sad, Charlie,” Manny began, watching him come into his line of vision as he hopped down his arm onto the bar, Charlie nudging his hand until he rubbed his feathers. “I’m just stupid, is all.” Charlie clicked his beak a few times, shaking his head before scampering off down the bar to where a small bowl of bar snacks sat, picking up a pretzel and bringing it back, placing it next to Manny. He then returned, bringing another.  

“Snacks. Manny snacks.”  

He smiled, throwing them into his mouth. Snacks always made Charlie happy, so when he sensed that someone he liked was feeling down, he liked to offer the same. “You’re an awesome dude, aren’t you?”

“Charlie’s a good boy!”

“Yeah, homes. You are.” He snorted softly then, sighing. “I ain’t, though.”  

For the last two days, all he’d had on his mind was his indiscretion. He’d never truly cheated on anyone before, save kissing other girls back in high school when he’d been with someone else, but that was all kid stuff in relationships that had only lasted a number of weeks. It wasn’t this, having sex with his baby mama behind his fiancée's back, the very thing Carmen had feared he’d do.  

The very thing he’d been incensed over her even hinting at, and he’d done it without a second thought. What made it worse? He felt bad because he didn’t feel bad at the time, when he was having sex with Hannah. Why? It felt right. He felt like he should have been there with her. It was returning to Carmen that felt alien.  

She wasn’t speaking to him, again, because of the fact he’d only arrived home at 6:30am on the morning following the storm. All he could think was how difficult she had to make everything, how she couldn’t be more like Hannah, which he knew was wrong to do. Him and her, though, that ship had sailed, because surely if she felt anything more for him than just having another one-night stand with him, she’d have spoken up?  

Wouldn’t she?

“Mama!” Charlie’s shout roused him from his thoughts, Manny turning to see Lily enter the clubhouse, her beloved bird beginning to bob and dance in welcoming of her.  

“Hello, baby boy!” she cooed softly, holding out her arm, Charlie scampering up to snuggle against her neck, preening her hair. “You being Manny’s drinking buddy, huh?”

“Manny sad.”

“Aw, hell, homie. Giving away my secrets,” the man himself spoke, turning to softly prod Charlie’s chest with his finger.  

Lily cocked her head to the side, reaching to stroke his arm fondly. “The bird didn’t need to say anything for me to see that, honey. What’s wrong?”

If there was one woman he knew he could reveal anything to without worrying what her response would be, it was Lily. Angel was his closest friend, and by extension, so was his wife. “I might have been a bad man.”

“Might?” she questioned, thanking Yasmine, one of the newer girls working behind the bar when she placed a vodka rocks down in front of her.  

He smiled thinly, scratching his short beard. “I had sex with Hannah two days ago.”

Lily’s eyes widened in an instant. “Oh boy. Yasmine, keep the drinks coming, pretty girl.” She duly did, Lily finishing hers with another swig. “Well, that’s a, ah, a... predicament you’ve gotten yourself into.”  

“I sense you’re holding back from telling me like it is,” he observed, knowing with Lily, that would be exactly what he’d get. She was kind and sweet, but she always cut right through the bullshit with her advice. Although adopted, she was very, very much like her dad in that respect.  

“Tell it! Testify!”  

They both erupted at that, Charlie’s assessment of the situation, beginning to dance on Lily’s shoulder before he looked towards the door. “Creep! Creep! Playtime!”  

“Alright, homie, I’m coming,” Creeper spoke, arriving with them and lowering his shoulder for the bird to hop on, taking a beer passed to him by Yasmine. “I gotta go head out and see to a pile of cars being crushed before I’m finished, and he loves that, so I’ll take him.” Taking his leash, he threaded it through the buttonhole of his shirt, leaving with the celebrity of Romero Brothers on his shoulder, jabbering nonsense into his ear.  

“So, the telling it like it is,” Lily began, deciding to treat herself to a seldom enjoyed cigarette. She’d quit completely after getting pregnant with Willow, but allowed herself one on occasion, keeping a pack behind the bar that she reached beneath to locate. “You know it was bad, I don’t have to hammer that point home to you any further. But to be truthful, I can see why you did. That girl you’re engaged to, Manny I’m sorry, but you can do so much better.”

He began to nod. “Never did like her, did you?”

“Oh, hell no,” she revealed with a soft snort. “She isn’t exactly personable. However, it doesn’t matter what I or anyone else thinks of her. If you love her and want to be with her, then what you did with Hannah can’t happen again. You have to be better than that.”

Be better. He knew her words made all the sense in the world.  

“She’s asleep,” he mouthed, carrying Lola in her car seat into Hannah’s apartment the following late Thursday afternoon, placing her down and turning to her. Be better. The words burned through his head, but from the moment he met Hannah’s gaze, they soon burned themselves right out of his brain before he picked her up, pressed a kiss of raw heat to her lips, and swiftly fucked her against her apartment door while their baby slept on.  

Be better. God, if it was that easy to go from nought to a thousand with the mother of his child, being better would take significantly stronger willpower.  

#manny mayans mc #manny mayans mc fanfiction #manny mayans mc smut #manny mayans mc imagine #manny mayans mc x ofc #manny montana #manny montana fanfiction #manny montana smut #manny montana imagine #manny montana x ofc #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc smut #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic

[valyriaas]

“You can’t surf.”

“I can’t surf,” Steve squints through the windshield and at the road ahead. The darkened sky. Jesus, they’re screwed. “But I would like to.”

Billy hums. Drums his hand on his thigh across from Steve. “I know I’ve only been in Hick County for like eighteen months, and down there in that shithole for half of that, but I'm pretty sure we’re landlocked.”

“Hm,” Steve tightens his grip on the wheel. Throws a grin Billy’s way. “You know a place?”

“Might do,” Billy’s voice is light. “Why?”

Steve casts a quick glance to the rest of the van. Nobody’s paying them mind. He pinks as he flounders for what to say. He lowers his voice anyway. “Maybe your sudden and biblical resurrection last month just got me thinking.”

“Oh yeah? About what?”

“California,” He mumbles, honest, and clears his throat. Jesus, the guy makes him nervous . Always makes him nervous. Like he’s sixteen and asking Kelly from Math to get his hand under her shirt behind the bleachers again, type nerves. It's new and it's weird and according to Robin, entirely normal.

Late bloomer, she’d said when he’d called in the middle of the night, and that he definitely wasn’t the only one. All he knew was that something had been fizzling between them since the moment Billy had crawled out of the portal and locked eyes with him first.

It sends a thrill through him. Every interaction. Every look, and touch, and.

Billy turns in his seat. His arm rests on the headrest, and his hand against his cheek. He looks.. peaceful. It's beautiful. He is. Covered in monster goo or otherwise. “What about it?”

“It’s.. I kind of always wanted to go.” He says lamely. Grimaces at himself. “I really want to go, actually. It's always been a thing for me. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

Billy asks, unsure, “Why are you telling me this now?”

Steve shrugs. He can see Billy watching him, still, in his peripheral vision in the passenger seat. His heart pounds as it climbs his throat.

“Just.. y’know. Just in case.”

“In case what?”

“Like.” He swallows. Jesus, get it together, Harrington. “You said you’re going back, right? After. Once we kill this thing. You can finally go back. You’ll be free.”

Billy wavers. He can see him pondering that. He nods after a moment of more unabashed staring. “I think so. Yeah.”

“And, like, I’m sure you’re - you and Max - are gonna go together, aren’t you? And it’ll be great, you’ll have a great time. I’m just, like. I’m just wondering if maybe.. I’d like to come. If you go - if you ever want to go back, I mean.”

He can’t help but look back at him, nerves itching under his skin. Billy’s battling a smile, his features free of any previous panic.

“It's a long way to go, pretty boy.“

“I mean, if we lug a beauty like this thing,” Steve gestures at the van, at the speedometer. Fifteen miles an hour. “We’d get there in no time.”

A snort escapes Billy. “Oh, yeah, give it a month.”

“Plus, its not like you and Max won’t be arguing the whole time, anyway. Something about Metallica, or dirty shoes on the dash, or whatever. How could I ever get bored?”

“Max won’t come,” Billy corrects him without a beat.

“What do you mean? Dude, she fucking leapt in your arms when you came back. I’ve never seen her so happy, or.. or so openly emotional, so don’t act like she doesn’t give a shit about you or you don’t care for her because frankly? It’s bullshit.”

Billy’s eyebrows raise slowly as he talks. But he can’t stop. Can’t just fucking say what he wants to say.

“Hawkins is her home now,” He says softly. “I’m not gonna make her chase ghosts with me.”

“Oh.” Steve blinks. Works his throat. It's dry. Maybe dehydration would kill him before Vecna. Maybe it’s the sun getting to his head or maybe it’s just Billy. “Right. Yeah, okay.”

Billy raps his knuckles against Steve’s thigh. It's, like, electric. He looks up with a stupid, little gasp and meets Billy’s easy smile. “Doesn’t mean she’s not welcome, or you’re not.”

“You’d want me to come with you?”

“Hell, I’m thinking it’d be nice. If you don’t piss me off.”

Steve’s smile is wide. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Harrington,” Billy’s cheeks are pink. He looks away to the road too. “I’m down. If you really want that.”

Steve considers.

He had nothing going for him in Hawkins. It had nothing to offer him. Between Scoops and Family Video and three separate applications to community college… he’s been biding time. Staying close. He didn’t really have to stay. So why?

Screw it.

“Let’s say this bastard doesn’t kill us both, then yeah. Yeah, I’m down. You can take me to the Grand Canyon on the way.”

Billy barks out a laugh, “Oh, I can take you?”

“Yeah,” Steve bites his lip. “You’re, like, the expert. And we could visit the Byers’, and maybe Yosemite - oh, shit, and Lake Tahoe.”

Billy drops his head with a silent shake of his shoulders. And Steve should probably be embarrassed, right? It's at his expense. But it makes him feel good. To make Billy laugh, to smile. To be the reason his features are lax and he’s holding in laughter? It's intoxicating.

And Steve finds it easy to picture it. The two of them in California. Just like now, Steve at the wheel and Billy at his side. Just a taste of that, the thought of it, has his stomach curling. He wants that.

Aw, hell.

“Getting a little ahead of yourself, there, Stevie.”

He beams. Can’t help it. “We haven’t even left and we’re on a nickname basis already?“

Billy rolls his eyes. It's half-hearted. It's cute . Steve can’t look away from him.

“King Steve’s a little dated now, don’t you think?”

“Eh,” Steve pulls a face. “Feels like a decade ago, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, Jesus,” Billy wets his lips. Steve’s drawn to it, obviously, and his mouth turns up in a lop-sided grin. He’s about to crash this fucking van, and Vecna’s gonna get the lot of them, but he can’t.. Can’t look away. Billy doesn’t want him to. And he wonders if that energy is gonna consume him. Or when. “You know, I don’t even know what the fuck I’m going back for. I don’t think there’s anything left there for me.”

“So figure it out when you get there.”

“We,” Billy corrects, palm pressed over his mouth. He’s nervous. Did Steve make him nervous?

“We figure it out,” Steve nods. He chews at his lip as they pull into the makeshift parking lot of the gun store Eddie suggested now. It's more of a goddamn warehouse. It makes it feel more real. Makes his gut churn.

“Flirt later,” Robin pops up as Steve parks. She drums her hands on his shoulder, sharing a brief, crazed, wide-eyed look with him before straightening. “We’re ten minutes behind schedule.”

“Why do we have a goddamn itinerary? Bite me, Buckley,” Billy hoists himself out of the passenger seat. He holds out a hand to Steve, all mocking with an exaggerated stance. “C’mon.”

Steve takes it. Lets him yank Steve up, way too aggressive and into his chest. There’s an oof that escapes Steve’s lips, and a smirk on Billy’s.

Robin’s long gone with everybody else when his eyes slide over where they’d say. Billy stands tall. Still smaller than him.

“We do this, you get that son of a bitch, and I’ll teach you.”

“Sounds good,” Steve grins, a little breathless as Billy slides his hands down the vest. He pulls to correct it, and Steve plants his fucking feet, and Billy keens.

“That’s a goddamn promise, Stevie.”

#harringrove #stevebilly #steve/billy #billy hargrove #steve harrington #steve x billy #my fics #idk #i got sad. had to write something