#billy washington x oc

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Every Little Bit | Billy Washington x SexuallyConfident!reader

Summary: Billy has never been the confident one in the relationship. So you endeavour to make him feel how he deserves | Word Count: | Warnings below the cut!

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Billy W Taglist

requested by @randomdragonfires, sorry it's taken me so long to get round to it 😅

Warnings: mentions of a bad past relationship, p in v sex, mentions of feeling inadequate, confidence issues, masturbation (f and m), cumplay, voyeurism, use of sex toys, overstim

Out of all the guys she’d been with, Billy Washington seemed the most innocent-looking.

He had the face for it. With those big blue eyes, messy blonde hair and the irresistible way he would nervously lick his soft pink lips when he was anxious.

She wasn’t ashamed to say that it excited her.

In complete contrast to that, he was tall, broad, with a sharp jawline and a sometimes striking gaze when his eyelids were hooded. Sometimes she found herself just looking at his hands as he wringed them, how his long, thick fingers curled around each other, tucking into his palms.

He was a somewhat introverted guy, she found out. But it was endearing. He was a listener, when he was sober, fading into the background as much as a tall guy could, his eyes darting to whoever was speaking. But when he had a drink in his hand and some beer in his belly, he began to come out of his shell a little, yet still softly spoken. Choosing his words carefully to not draw too much attention to himself.

It was a shame, she mused.

She chalked it up mostly to his ex-girlfriend, who, from what she’d heard, had done very little to quell his nerves and insecurities. In fact, it seemed like she nurtured them, in order to perhaps feel better about herself.

That was the biggest crime of all. Forcing Billy to feel lesser than he was.

Than he deserved.

In their moments of quiet within his flat, legs tangled beneath the sheets, with his head pressed between her shoulder and chest as she absent-mindedly played with his hair, he would often say.

“Why the hell are you with a guy like me?”

The question didn’t come from nowhere. It was a familiar one, and asked often.

She never knew why he’d even ask?

“You could have any guy you wanted”

But she wants him.

What about that is so difficult to understand?

She quickly discovered though, that it was because Billy thought he wasn’t satisfying her.

So often had his ex expressed disappointment, with faked orgasms or huffs of annoyance, that Billy thought himself incapable of giving a single female pleasure.

She thought it was absurd.

The way Billy approached sex was another thing.

It was clear he wasn’t confident, unclear more so if he ever had been. He’d obviously had his fair share of girlfriends, had sexual relationships with most of them, but had never really allowed himself to be vulnerable with any of them intimately.

Not to mention, she doubted he’d ever divulged what he liked.

A people pleaser, through and through.

She knew he was only human. That beneath that good boy exterior there was something. Things he liked, but wouldn’t dare to ask for. Things he might have wanted to do to her, but wouldn’t say out loud.

It was a mission, to find out what made Billy Washington click.

Being unapologetically sexual was never an issue for her. Nor communication with previous partners (at least on her side anyway). Not that she was perfect in her opinion by any stretch, but she always, always, knew what she wanted. In her eyes, there was no need to be embarrassed about what you desire, or about telling that to the person that you trust and love.

Clearly, Billy’s trust had been shattered before she came into his life.

She looked up from her phone as she heard the front door, the clanging of keys in a bowl and shuffling of long, muffled footsteps.

A mischievous smile grew on her face as she laid atop his bed, in only his long t-shirt and nothing else, one hand pressed between her mid thighs to warm and comfort the hand that wasn't scrolling through her phone.

She heard his exasperated sigh and saw his sandy, blond hair as he turned towards the bedroom, halting on the spot as his baby blue eyes locked onto her legs first, trailing upwards to where the skin was covered by his shirt.

His cheeks were flushed. He'd obviously had a pint.

"Have a good time?", she asked warmly.

She saw him swallow thickly, his full lips parting to remember to breathe, "Mmhm".

Flopping her phone onto the bedside table, she rested her head in her palm, "What's up?"

Billy had to shake his head a few times to rid himself of what he thought was a trance, no doubt doubled by the little bit of alcohol in his system, "U-uh, nothing…" he murmured, pulling off his jacket  and stepping across the threshold.

"Were you uh…waiting up for me?", Billy asked with a hint of hope in his voice that was difficult to miss.

She slides off the bed, shuffling up to his tall, broad figure, having to crane her neck to look at him properly through her eyelashes. Billy shivers noticeably as her hands drift across his chest, her fingers teasing the skin of his torso through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Though they'd been together for some time, even Billy understood, there was something different about tonight.

"What if I was?", she replies, a teasing lilt to her voice that makes Billy's hairs stand up on end.

He presses his lips together, feeling increasingly pent up by the second, as if her touch is setting off a chain reaction inside him, and he is fit to burst.

“What if I was thinking about you?”, she muses in a low tone, smiling when she feels him tense under her touch.

“About me?...”

“Yeah”

“In…what way?” he asks innocently.

She thinks, feigning disinterest for a moment as she bites her lip.

“I’ve been thinking, that you don’t tell me what you want”.

She watches his brows lower a bit in confusion, “...what I want?”

“Mmhm”, she replies, “in the bedroom anyway”.

“Oh”

She smiled with delight as his cheeks warmed, the redness blooming over his face, making his deep, blue eyes gleam from beneath his sweeping blonde hair.

Almost in a trance, Billy's hands drift beneath her arms to her waist, sucking the large shirt she wore to the actual shape of her body. She watched his face as his lips parted.

Billy didn't know what to say.

"I, uh…"

"You can tell me, Billy" she reassured quietly, watching his breath hitch, and his chest move more steadily as her fingers brushed the skin beneath his shirt.

She stopped when his hands came to hers, to gently, but firmly, push them off him.

“Not tonight…” he whispered, so quiet she nearly had to strain to hear him, “...please”.

How he said it was so vulnerable, his eyes blinking quickly, that she knew and took the cue to not even go about asking what was really wrong with him. She suspected it was something much deeper, something that needed a lengthy explanation, and one that right now he couldn’t give her.

She gave him a reassuring smile, letting him know that he needn’t feel like he was disappointing her.

She thought with a warmth in her heart, that Billy had come home, wavy from only one pint, only wanting to be held, have her fingers stroking his hair until he fell asleep.

So tonight, without judgement, she gave him comfort.

And would let him come to her when he was ready.

She loved mornings like this.

Lazy, hazy Saturdays.

The middle of the weekend. Leaving the stressful memory of Friday, flung headlong into the lull that Saturday offered, and without the threat of Sunday, knowing that the work week would just continue all over again.

With the bed sheets tucked around her idly, she scrolled through her phone with heavy eyelids, she could hear the faint tapping of the shower in the background and the occasional splash of water as Billy washed his hair.

The dust was illuminated as it drifted through the air, the atmosphere one a kind of homely, cosiness. The music from one of the speakers in the other room filled the gentle silence.

It was so domestic, she could only describe it that way. One that filled a space inside her that made her feel as if she could stay like this forever.

She thought of him, in the shower, water running off of him and his blonde hair all wet and pushed back from his forehead with his fingers. And for some reason, though they’d been together a long time, the idea of that still excited her.

It was useless to ignore how she pressed her thighs together.

It had been a few days since she and Billy were last intimate. And though she tried the night before, it was clear as anything he was in no mood for anything overtly sexual, favouring instead to bask in their closeness. She didn’t mind it. She would much rather him state if he wasn’t in the mood, than for him to push it aside, and struggle to keep the momentum going and be passionate once they were in the throes of it.

Because that would only fuel the inadequacy Billy felt.

And she wasn’t having that.

Tucking her phone beneath the pillow, she sighed as her hand slipped between her legs, finding herself already wet and wanting at the mere thought of her boyfriend in the shower. If she weren’t so pent up, she would have said to herself it was slightly pathetic, to be this aroused just by thinking about someone she saw everyday naked.

But she just couldn’t help herself.

She pressed her lips together, suppressing a sound that bubbled up there as her digits moved through her slick folds, her hips jolting slightly when her middle finger began to rub in micro-movements over her bud. Imagining it was him. His long,thick fingers…

She sunk further into the bed, the idle sound of muffled music in the background granting her the confidence to part her lips and let her quiet moans rumble in her chest.

With one hand pleasuring herself, the other slipped beneath her shirt to touch her own breast, again pretending they were his, large and calloused, gripping at her flesh hungrily, squeezing her nipples between his fingers desperately.

That dull buzz began to throb between her legs, and she paid more attention to her clit where she increased her movements.

Her head whipped to the doorway, her eyes flying open and breath caught in her chest, all movements ceased.

Her first instinct was to blush in embarrassment as Billy stood in the doorway, his blue eyes slowly drifting from where her hands were tucked and then to her eyes, absorbing the hedonistic and shy expression on her face.

Billy just stood there, clad only in his sweatpants that hung lowly on his hips, and the appearance of his body so unabashedly bared, the little trail of dark blonde hair leading down from his navel beneath the waistband, made that little buzz only ache tighter inside her. His hair was towel dried and pushed back off his forehead, the sandy strands darkened with moisture and laying messily on his head.

She wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

He saw her swallow nervously, seeing her not know what to do as he’d happened upon her in a very delicate moment, so lost in her pleasure that she had not heard him turn off the shower and open the door.

Her mouth went dry as she saw beneath his dark sweatpants, that he was undeniably hard, his erection pressed against his thigh.

Billy breathed steadily, his eyes flitting down once he realised she had stopped what she’d been doing.

His throat bobbed and he wet his lips as he spoke, “Keep going”.

Heat crawled up her neck to her face, and she was certain she was blushing furiously at what he’d said.

Never in their relationship had she seen him speak to her like he just had. All low and deep in his chest, with his usually gleaming, blue eyes darkened by his pupils expanding into the colour.

After she was sure she heard him correctly, she resumed her motions slowly at first, getting back into the motion steadily as she had before. Her head felt like it was full of hot air, once she saw Billy’s large hand slip past the waistband of his sweatpants and grip his length in his palm. Even from her spot on the bed, she saw the way he fisted his erection, his eyes fixed on her core, all wet and hot, peeking out from beneath the hem of his own shirt.

It felt so erotic, pleasuring himself when he was right there watching her, annoyingly far away where she couldn’t touch him.

A sound largely between a groan of annoyance and a moan of pleasure as her movements increased tumbled past her lips. And she was sure that she saw Billy’s eyes light up as he saw how irritated she was that she couldn’t reach out to him. To touch him as she so often couldn’t help herself from doing when they were intimate with each other.

“Billy...” she breathed, hoping that her tone of voice would be enough.

“Show me” his voice was firm, but with a waver at the end as his motions beneath his sweatpants increased, his chest all tense as his core tightened with pleasure.

Feeling her face all hot with both embarrassment and arousal, she pushed her ankles apart even more, doing as he said and exposing herself to him as he pleasured herself, finally sinking her fingers inside her. Her arousal audibly clicked against her fingers as she hastened her ministrations, trying so badly to achieve fulfilment herself.

But with him in the room, so far away but within reach, all she felt was that she needed him to give it to her.

Billy sighed, his pink lips parted as his gaze returned to her weeping arousal between her legs, seeing the effect he had on her without having touched her.

Using his other hand, he pushed the waistband slightly off his hip, pulling his length from its confines to show her the effect that she had on him.

She felt her insides clench around nothing, hungrily wanting him inside her when she saw him pleasure himself, his fingers wrapped around his cock and pumping in sure, confident movements.

She thought that if she closed her eyes and opened them again, he might take pity on her and just come over to the bed and fuck her, as she so desperately wanted. In all their relationship, she’d never been left wanting for him, ever. She’d always been the one to give to him, to give him pleasure, and in the bargain have some fun for herself, as she so often enjoyed feeling as if she was the only one who could give it to him.

And right now, she thought he must look utterly pathetic, not even having the energy to beg for him to fuck her.

The ends of his hair had begun to dry and she felt her tummy do backflips as he moved from the doorway towards her. Without thinking, she had slowed her movements, expecting him to have finally caved.

The mattress dipped at her ankles where he was knelt, but other than the brush of them against her flesh, he didn’t touch her, and he certainty hadn’t ceased the movements of his hand around his length.

Now, knelt over her like this, his tall form casting somewhat of a shadow over hers, she felt her walls flutter around her own fingers with excitement, desperate to be stretched to accommodate to his length that was so close to her.

“I don’t think I said stop, did I?”

She felt her mouth go all dry, the strands of his hair moving with every tug of his fist on his cock.

Billy looked down at her, watching with a sort of curiosity as she resumed, taking his words to heart. Wanting to please him.

She’d never felt so small in her life.

And, fuck, it was exciting to see this side of him.

He began to pump his cock in earnest, a slight pinkness to his cheeks from the effort, lips parted in hurried breath. He reached over, into the bedside table and threw the mini vibrator he knew was there onto the spot next to her.

She looked up in brief confusion, he wasn’t going to use it on her?

She felt entirely pent up, just wanting him to touch her.

“Billy, please…” she caved and begged, her face warm with slight humiliation at having to ask.

He batted her hand away when she tried to touch his torso, watching with a blank expression at the brief annoyance on her face.

“You can touch me when you cum”.

He had such a serious expression on his face, it was difficult to detect any sign in him that he was actually enjoying this.

She swallowed thickly and gasped when her other hand pressed the vibrator against her clit, pleasuring herself in two separate ways as her fingers continued to shallowly slide inside her with a wet, soft smack of her arousal. Having these two sensations at once was borderline overwhelming.

And part of her was flushed, that Billy was just right there, pleasuring himself while he watched her.

She closed her eyes, but Billy was quick to it.

“Look at me”.

She felt her core tighten impossibly, her movements becoming quicker and more needy as she neared that point of no return. The point where she would lose herself entirely.

And so she pressed the vibrator against her clit harder, using her slick to move it around in micro-movements as she canted her hips up to assist the friction there. Her eyes pulled up to him, and for some reason, looking into his eyes as he stared down at her instead of watching the way he pleasured himself right in front of her, was much much more intimate and erotic.

Billy himself began to breathe heavier, his chest moving erratically up and down, a sheen of sweat over his skin there, his grip on himself tightening.

“You close?” he asked breathily, feeling as if he was about to explode with arousal.

She nodded quickly, and without noticing circled the vibe around her bud, aided by how wet she was, “Yes - yes, Billy -”

She felt her hips shift down into the bed, thighs shaking as her orgasm rolled over her in waves. Her fingers dragged through her fluttering walls, the vibrator still buzzing incessantly on her clit as the numbness flooded her limbs, warmth flooding through her to the place where she needed him the most.

She wanted to pull the vibe away, overstimulation beginning to gnaw at her pleasure, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she looked up at Billy again when his other hand reached down and held her wrist in place. His eyes boring down into hers, just daring her to say something in response.

But she didn’t.

“-fuck, Billy-” she whined, her stomach clenching and unclenching in brief discomfort as yet another rush threatened to overcome her. Her lips hung open, and she wanted to shut her eyes badly, to cut off at least one feeling so that she could concentrate on the other between her legs.

It was too much.

She thought with a sort of bashfulness that she wanted to cum again purely at the feeling of his fingers on her flesh.

She felt moisture around her eyes, the pleasure so closely nearing on pain, but never quite overstepping that fine line between them. It was almost as if she could feel every erratic beating of her heart through her core, the second orgasm completely draining all the energy out of her.

Billy moaned loudly, partly cut off with a full body shudder as he tugged at his length to completion. The moan lingering on his sweet voice as he painted her pussy with his cum, sighing as he continued to pump himself, as if the sight of her covered in his spend was just too erotic to comprehend.

She flinched, her hips jolting upwards to meet him when he leaned down to rub the head of his cock over her clit and entrance, smearing his cum over her pussy, in a gesture that tugged at that pleasurable spot deep in her gut.

The only sound either of them were able to make were the tired remnants of moans on their hurried breaths.

When her heavy eyelids lifted to him again, she thought he looked like a piece of art. Broad and tall, his flesh tied with wiry muscle, subtle beneath the soft surface of his skin.

And for a moment, as Billy rode out his high that seemed to take everything out of him, they simply looked at each other as if something in the dynamic of their relationship had irrevocably changed.

There was something else in his baby blue eyes she’d never seen before. A shift.

Something inside him had been awakened, like he had enjoyed exerting a power and assertiveness over her that he’d never tried before.

He reached over, his palm pressing into the space on the mattress next to her head as he leaned over her. Her lips parted in surprise and pleasure when he dipped down and slid his length past her slick folds and slowly sank inside her, stretching her already abused and tender walls out around him, moulding her insides to the shape of him.

Billy sighed, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of her pussy gripping him hungrily, already clenching around his overly-sensitive cock. But as soon as his eyes opened again, his face now close to hers as he pushed inside her to the hilt, the hair at the base of him brushing against her clit, she raised her legs to hook around his hips.

And felt as if she’d seen someone else she’d never met before.

Her eyes rolled shut as his palm laid flat on her tummy, drifting up and taking the shirt with it, palming needily at her breasts as he began a mercifully soft and careful pace.

One she had no doubt would become more eager.

Part of her worried she wouldn’t leave this bed for a long while. The other wanted to smile, happy that Billy had felt comfortable and confident enough, finally, to demonstrate what he really, really wanted.

It seemed trivial perhaps to some, that a confidence, even sexually, could give so much power to a person and enhance the personality that was already there. To help them feel as loved as they deserved to feel.

She’d suspected for so long that he’d been hiding something. Something he was too nervous to ask for. Fearing perhaps that she would judge him.

But as he pressed his chest to hers, his hands snaking around her waist and her buttocks to push her body up to meet his desperate thrusts, she only felt relieved and undeniably happy, that she had been able to give him this freedom.

And she thought with a hint of selfishness…

…that she could get used to this.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard | @bellstwd | @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @mochi-rose | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics | @watercolorskyy

#billy washington #billy washington x reader #billy washington x y/n #billy washington fanfic #billy washington x oc #billy washington trigger point #trigger point billy washington #trigger point bbc #trigger point series #billy washington smut #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #trigger point fanfiction #trigger point fanfic #trigger point billy #ewan nation #billy washington fanfiction

[helaelaemond]

Little Games That We Play - Billy Washington x reader

Pairing:  Billy Washington x semi-girlfriend!reader (?)

Word count: 2k

Summary: you pick Billy up from the police station after he's smashed up a butchers' shop. You're sick of him, but not so sick you can say no to getting fucked.

AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, established relationship, penetrative sex, clothed sex.

Content warning(s): rough sex, mentions of Islamophobia, very brief domestic violence (reader slaps Billy)

Rating: E

For Ez, one of my beloved muses.

You march out of the police station with anger in you.

"Sunglasses?" Billy asks as he strides to keep up with you.

You pull them from your bag and shove them to his chest. "A halal butchers?" you ask, your voice full of disgust. He doesn't answer you as you make your way quickly down the stairs and to your banged up old Corsa. Not as sorry as his Cavalier, but nothing to be especially proud of.

"Thanks for coming to get me."

You can't even stomach looking at him. When you're both in the car, you open the windows and screech out of the car park and into the road, barely making it to third by the time you hit thirty.

"Aye, ease up," he tells you in a strained tone.

"You reek," is the only reply you can muster.

The rest of the drive is in silence. On the steering wheel, your knuckles are white. It takes twenty minutes with traffic to get home, and you're too angry to park neatly - half your wheel is on the pavement, and you'll probably get a ticket, but fuck it. Billy can pay for it - when he finally gets a job. The thought makes you snort, and he looks over at you.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"You ain't even got that to your name."

When he laughs in reply, it's dry, humourless. A cheap shot, you know, but Jesus. You're so angry you could push him into traffic, you really could-!

After a long pause, Billy speaks. "I int got my keys."

Silence is the answer you give him. He follows you across the road and up into the flat that you share. It's cluttered and messy and dirty, and you've been spending more and more time back at your mum's place than here lately. It's been a while since it felt like home.

On the stovetop, dirty pans wait to be washed. There's a half-finished Pot Noodle next to it, and a dish of used teabags. This isn't how you saw your life turning out. "Didn't have five minutes to clean up?"

He pours boiling water into two mugs and stirs them both without looking up. He's still wearing those sunglasses. "Didn't know when you'd be home. Didn't see the point."

"You don't help yourself, you know?"

He winces at your raised voice. "Save it, will you? My head's killing me."

"How many did you have last night?" you press. He hands you the cup of tea and you take it without thinking.

"A few."

"How many's a few?"

"I dunno. It was a wake, for fuck's sake, I wasn't counting."

"Yeah? Well, maybe you should've. A butchers', Billy, a fucking butchers'?"

Billy shrugs slightly. His chin is tilted down. Without taking a sip, you set your mug on the dirty counter and grab him by the front of his black shirt.

"What are you playing at?" you hiss.

His lip curls and he turns his face away. "Leave it."

"No! You're throwing your life away, and dragging other people down with it!"

"No one cares enough to be dragged down with me."

You slap him, hard. Across his sharp cheek your hand comes, and it knocks those stupid Aviators right off his nose. "No one cares enough? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?"

Sometimes, Billy is as meek as anything, and he takes the nasty things people say with shining eyes and tight lips. But other times, he comes to the edge of losing control. There is no shine in his eyes now - just the glisten of something dangerous. A thrill goes through you. He catches your wrist and squeezes until it hurts. "The girl who promised she'd never leave. But you're leaving me, aren't you? You're giving up, just like everyone else."

"What do you expect me to do?" you challenge. There are butterflies in your stomach when he pulls you closer, but you fight it. He's stronger than you, though. "Sit around and watch you waste the best years of my life? Watch you drain my bank account?"

"You promised."

"Look at the state of you." Your voice is low, angry. "Dirty clothes. Dirty face. Dirty fucking life."

His lip twitches, but he makes no reply. At least not with his words. One hand winds suddenly into your hair, fingers gripping hard at the root, and he pulls until your neck is arched, and your hands grab desperately for his arms. He doesn't go to the gym anymore, but his biceps are tensed and you hate how much you love the strain in the muscles.

"You're not a man," you hiss. "You need to grow up."

The hate in his heart has put distance between you. But the fire in his eyes is nothing but passion and love for you, you know. It's not enough for you anymore.

It still makes your pussy wet.

And when he shoves you against the messy counter, stomach first, you know what's coming. "Then why are you still here?" he mutters against your ear.

With his half-hard cock grinding in his filthy joggers against your backside, it's difficult to keep your mind on words, let alone an answer to such a complex question. Because you love him. Because you're filled with hope. Because you promised to stay.

You think of how ashamed he sounded on the phone this morning when he asked you to pick him up. You had been the one that he wanted when everything had gone to shit - when he had ruined everything. It was still you. "Because you called."

It comes out more tenderly than you intended. He grunts, and his hips stutter. "You fucking love me. Don't you?"

Gripping onto the countertop, you suppress a shiver and shake your head slightly. "No."

"Yeah, you do." Behind you, Billy shoves up your dress and presses his hand between your thighs. His long fingers rub over your underwear, and with his soft breaths at your ear, he slips them underneath. Between your folds he dips, and he groans to find you hot, the beginning of slickness pooling at your entrance. "Oh, yeah, that's what I thought."

"You don't deserve me," comes your defiant reply. It's punctuated by stiff breaths that give you away, though.

He smells unwashed, and stale beer clings to him like dust. It wraps you up in a haze of devotion and disgust. When he pushes his joggers down, you think of where they've been. He was wearing them when he carried out a hate crime, and when he was picked up by police sitting on the filthy pavement. In the police car and then the cells he wore them, and there are stains on them that you dread to think the origin of.

"Bend over," he tells you.

"No."

He growls against your ear. "Bend over."

"Make me."

And he does. With a hard hand on the back of your neck, he forces you to bend over where you stand. Before you have a moment to think, the blunt head of his cock nudges between your spread thighs, and he sinks into you like he owns you.

"Don't pretend you're too good for me," Billy mutters once he's deep inside you, his groin pressed against your backside. "That's not a fun game."

Your head rests on the counter, eyes closed. In front of you is the dish of teabags. It smells strangely comforting. "This isn't a game."

"Yeah, it is." He slams back and forth into you, once, twice, thrice, and then he pauses. "You love these little games that we play."

You hiss very quietly. "Get on with it."

"Oh?" There's a smirk in his voice now. Smug cunt.

"Just- just do it."

"Do you need it?" he asks. His pace begins smooth and slow. He knows what he's doing.

"Billy," you say through gritted teeth.

"What?"

You are going to have to swallow your pride. At least for a moment. Hopefully it'll be worth it. "Fuck me properly or not at all."

"You want it hard?"

Shit. He knows exactly what he's doing. You hate him for it. "Yes."

"Say it."

"No."

The hand on the back of your neck squeezes in a silent threat. His voice turns cold. It makes your blood run hot. "Say it."

"Fuck you!"

Billy scrapes his nails over your scalp before grasping your hair again and yanking you up slightly. He hisses against your ear. "Say it for me. Or I'll stop."

In a moment of quiet, you consider him. You could walk away now with your dignity. But, God, you feel so empty without him. And now he's inside you and you shift your hips slightly and even that tiny stimulation makes your eyes roll. "Oh, God. F-fuck. Fuck me. Hard."

And he does.

He fucking does.

The noise of your coupling in the little kitchen is obscene. Your skin slaps together as the slickness between your bodies echoes, barely covered by Billy's groans and your laboured breaths. His cock fills you perfectly, pounding into you again and again like you're unbreakable. He fucks you like you belong to him.

It makes your thighs tremble. He doesn't have the decency to touch you anywhere else this time. Sometimes, he spends hours worshipping your whole body, kissing and caressing your skin until you feel like a shrine of his love, godly and devotional. But here, now... he fucks you like he doesn't love you. But like he needs you.

"Fuck!" Billy bites your ear before licking around it. "You gonna keep your mouth shut next time?"

"No," you whine. "You're a piece of shit."

He slides his hand from the back of your neck to your throat, and pulls you up slightly. It makes your hips tilt and back arch, and the new angle makes your knees weak.

"I think you will." Words are punctuated by hard thrusts that feel so good they almost hurt. "Gonna make me come."

"Hand," you tell him. With one still around your throat, the other goes between your legs and his fingers rub a brutal rhythm over your clit. He presses your hot flesh hard and fast until you go weak in his arms. He holds you upright like it's nothing. Like you're nothing.

"Fuck, fuck-!"

"Billy, yes, yes, don't stop, don't-!"

He groans your name. "Fuck, fuck, gonna make me come, I'm-! Yes, oh, God yes, yes, yes-!"

Your orgasm crashes over you at the sound of him reaching his peak, and your knees give way. He holds you tight and strains up on his toes to bury himself as deep as he can, spilling inside you with a gutteral cry. Pleasure erupts from between your legs through your whole body, crashing over you in waves. The hand against your cunt holds you firm, giving you something to keep focus on as aftershocks make you twitch.

"I've got you," he mutters after his moans have subsided. You lean back in his arms, utterly spent. There are no thoughts left in your mind. Floating. You're just floating.

But what goes up, must come down.

"Let go," you mumble.

"Hmm?" His lips are at your neck, soft kisses making your skin tingle.

You push him away. It makes you wince when his cock slips, half hard, out of you. He made your underwear chafe against your thigh when he pushed it aside, you realise now. "Get off."

Billy hangs his head. Hastily, he pulls up his joggers and grabs his mug from the side. You notice the cuts on his knuckles have opened up again. Whatever. That's his own fault.

"Stay."

You look up at him. He avoids your gaze. "Billy..."

"Just... stay."

"Don't ask me that after... after that. You know I..."

"You what?" he asks. And then he looks at you with shining eyes.

"I can't say no to you like this. You... you know that."

He nods. "Yeah. That's why I did it."

It should make you hate him. It's bad enough that he did it, let alone admit it - he fucks you like this to keep you tied to him. But you don't hate him. Instead of leaving, you take your tea and follow him to the couch. Together, you sit down, and drink in silence. You'll stay. Come what may.

#billy washington x reader #billy washington x you #billy washington x y/n #billy washington x oc #ewan mitchell #mine #ewanverse #NOT PART OF ITS ALL FOR U SERIES..... THIS IS JUST A NASTY SIDE PIECE.... EHEHEHEEH

[assortedseaglass]

The Ashes In My Wake

Request: Please may I request something with Billy Washington? Perhaps something where he is jealous/possessive over his lady. We don’t have enough Billy content and you write him so well!

@bouncehousedemons

Billy Washington x Unnamed OFC

Warnings: Language, mentions of violence, Trigger Point spoilers(ish)

Word Count: 2K

Note: I’m taking so long with requests but c’est la vie

The bass from the speakers rattled his every organ, but the thrum of guitar and the singer’s rasping voice were warped by the breath ringing in his ears. All around him, the crowd brayed with laughter, pulsed and lurched, shouted words to songs Billy didn’t know. Some edged away from him with disgusted looks. Others laughed. A few were scrabbling at him, their hands pouring from the darkness to pull him away.

Billy hadn’t meant to do it. Not really. Dark spaces crammed with writhing, sweaty bodies weren’t his scene. Give him a pint of pilsner at the pub any day. But when she’d begged him, arms wrapped about the small of his waist, fingers absentmindedly tracing the freckles of his stomach, he’d caved. Surely he owed her something? She had dinner at his parents’, somehow got Lana to like her, let him fuck her. Even dragged him away from those pathetic, self-mutilating thoughts. One night peppered with furtive cigarettes in the piss-stained alley and a quick jägerbomb or three at the bar while she danced her heart out couldn’t hurt. Not him at least.

He'd been gone three minutes, fidgeting with the ring on his index finger, pint of whatever’s cheapest and some water, when his discomfort turned into something more sinister. Sure, he’d wanted to punch the twat’s teeth through the back of his skull the moment he sauntered toward her, the rock of his hips matching perfectly to the sway of hers. Yes, when the dickhead brushed her hair away from her head to whisper something, Billy wanted to pull that stupid fucking neckerchief so hard it made his eyes bulge. But when she threw her head back in laughter and the bellend, with his sleeve of stick and pokes, flashed a vulpine grin with those perfect teeth, Billy’s mind went blank with jealousy. He hadn’t meant to do it, but somehow, he knew that he had.

Over the heads of the crowd, Billy saw two men clad in black weaving towards them. She was screaming at him, hair whipping around her face as she hit his chest. Whatever she shouted was inaudible over the music, her spit flecking his cheeks. The dickhead, with his greaser’s hair and shit tattoos, clutched his nose. At his side, clenched into a ball of perfect rage, Billy’s knuckles were already purpling.

A wayward thud caught him in the sternum and, momentarily breathless, he looked down. Her eyes were red with fury, cheeks flushed from the exertion of dancing and the electricity of her anger, and Billy had to fight not to smile through his hot rage. A hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him backwards. The bouncers.

“Fuck off,” he twisted from their grip and pointed at the twat stood perilously close to his girlfriend. “Don’t fucking touch her again!” The man in the leather jacket stared at him in all his wild-eyed fury, wiped his nose of blood and stepped closer to her.

“You’re a fucking psycho, mate.” He pulled at the collar of his jacket and puffed out his chest. “You need to be put away.”

“Just fuck off!” As he yelled it, so did she. The ghost of a grin shadowed Billy’s face and his heart hammered with pride.

“Don’t think much of your taste, love,” The creep was smiling now, and though he spoke to the woman before him, his eyes bore into Billy’s, whose own fell to his girlfriend. She stared at the man who had so pleased her minutes before. Her face was unreadable, a mixture of anger, exasperation and, was that assent? For a moment, fleeting and pitiable, Billy stilled. The bouncers slackened their hold on his shoulders, and the try-hard backed into the dancing revellers.

“Insecure little prick.”

The stranger knew he was in trouble and his mirthless laughter died. This girl’s fella was scrawny, yes, but when his eyes flickered from her lovely face to his, the pathetic loser he had once seen was replaced by the animal within. It happened almost imperceptibly. The hard nose, carved from stone and no doubt impossible to break, flared with readying breaths. Beneath its shadow, his small scar curved as the thin lips bared across his teeth in a snarl. What scared the man most though, were his eyes. Set beneath a heavy brow, they seemed to flicker under the strobes. With each flash of white, his eyes turned to glass, focused on the man before him and nothing else. Everything about this boy was sharp, and the pain in the stranger’s broken nose seemed to numb. Whatever agony he thought he was in, the next blow would be worse. With a growl and slash of his wiry hands, Billy launched at the cunt.

He caught the man across the face, his nails tearing the skin. Before the bouncers could react or she could intervene, his other fist collided with the underside of the greaser’s ribs. The force of Billy’s punch caused the blood gathered in his nose and the back of his throat to rip past his lips. A few women shrieked and the bouncers leapt suddenly into action. Before they could, two small and solid hands pushed Billy backwards.

“What THE FUCK is wrong with you, Bill?” He stared at her. One of the bouncer’s meaty hands closed around his upper arm and pulled him away.

“What’s wrong with me? WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME!? I didn’t agree come to this shitty gig just to watch you flirt with Danny fucking Zuko!” The man, who had stood aside to laugh at their argument, flinched as Billy lurched forwards once again. The second bouncer gripped a fistful of Billy’s hoodie and yanked, the force causing him to land on his arse. The surrounding crowd oohed and laughed at him. Someone pulled him off the ground and shoved him towards the door. “Fuck off! I’m going.” And without a glance backwards, pushing past bellowing spectators and carrying the last of his pride, Billy stalked from the club.

Drizzle glimmered blue on the black street. Shops were shuttered and a few late-night revellers swayed as they said their goodbyes. Billy took out his phone, her face smiling up at him from the screen. 23.54. He sighed, lit a cigarette and, pulling up the collar of his hoodie, meandered home.

“Traffic light, fag ends, bin, more fag ends, taxi,” His therapist got him to do these stupid lists when he was angry. Five things you can see, four things you can hear…

“Rain, cars, my feet-” The bass of the club still thudded in the distance and Billy kicked a blue bin as he passed it, anger flaring once again. What are you’re hot emotions, Billy? She always asked that. The therapist. After the incident at Cranstead Fields, the hospital prescribed Billy a course of CBT and psychotherapy. The police agreed, saying that if he attended the sessions, the community service he owed due to his attack on the butcher’s could be reduced. Not that any of it was fucking working. He talked until he was blue in the face about Lana and his parents, his rejection from the army, his rejection from work, but the nightmares still came. The car, the bomb, his body scattered across the field…

A dull headache was forming behind his eyes by the time he shut the door of the flat. Vestiges of his life before she had come along still clung to his home; unfolded piles of washing, dishes piling up by the sink, the curtains half open. But there was brightness too. Her coat was hung on the rack. The lounge was now a place to do just that, with cushions and candles and frames hung on the wall. In the fridge, leftovers of the last meal she cooked were waiting for him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and filled the kettle.

Cold showers ease the muscle tension and headaches aroused by angry outbursts.

In the bathroom, her makeup was still scattered across the sink. Billy piled it into the small vanity case she brought when she stayed at his and ran the shower. She’d still be at the gig, and Billy wondered if she’d be dancing with the stranger, or if she’d meant it when she told him to fuck off.

Cold shower having dampened his anger and his spirits, Billy padded towards the kitchen. He thought about calling Thom, but he’d only tell Lana. He thought about emailing his therapist, but it was midnight on a Saturday. There was nothing for it, and Billy did the only thing he could think of. Taking out his phone, he tapped away a quick message, I’m sorry, gone home. Will call in the morning x, and reboiled the kettle.

“I’ve already made you one.” The voice came from the lounge and, ducking his head beneath the frame, Billy saw her sat on the threadbare sofa, staring at the two steaming cups on the coffee table. “I thought we’d talked about this, Bill-”

“Don’t,” he spat, then weakly. “Don’t.”

“Do I need to call Lana?”

“I’m not a child,” he threw himself down in the gaming chair opposite her.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Silence. They stared at each other a while, both too stubborn to speak. When his leg began to bob in agitation, she sighed and leant forward.

“What happened?”

Billy didn’t speak, choosing instead to pick at the skin of his left palm. It wasn’t until her mug knocked against the table that he said anything.

“You looked so happy,” his voice was a whisper, and were she not so annoyed at him, her heart would have broken.

“Well, yeah, I was,” he could hear annoyance decorating her tender words. “But some guy making me laugh doesn’t mean I’m unhappy with you, Bill.” He didn’t look up, and she moved around the table to kneel below his gaze. “You make me happy, Billy.”

From under the sweep of his golden hair, he watched her, all gentle eyes and kindness despite the way he behaved. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m trying-”

“I know you are, and you’re doing so well.” She clutched at his hands, soothing the skin he had been rubbing. “You’ll get there.” Her hand grazed something cool. The ring she gave him for his birthday was cold against the heat of his swollen knuckles. “For God’s sake, Billy! Take it off.”

He tugged at it aggressively, huffing like a child but it didn’t budge. “I can’t.”

His petulance made her laugh and he frowned, pulling his hand from her grip.

“Don’t be so mardy,” she took back his hand and ran gentle kisses over the bruised skin. God, she was good to him. When she had delicately kissed each knuckle, she turned his hand over so his palm was facing upward. “You make me happy, Billy,” she repeated softly, before taking his ringed finger into her mouth. Billy’s breath caught at the warmth of it, they way her cheeks hollowed, the strain the action put on his trousers.

“Fuck,”

He watched, mesmerised, as she drew back. Her eyes never leaving his, she smiled, the ring held between her teeth. “Fuck,” he said again, when she took him by the hand and led him towards his bedroom.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, Wash.”

Note: When to an amazing gig at the weekend, but there was one guy there who was an absolute caricature of a 50s greaser. Had to put him in. Writing is hard at the moment because of things but I’m getting back to it as it makes me happy. Joined the Hozier lyrics as fic titles band wagon.

Tagging the old Come Back To Me crew: @jessssica1234 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @aemonds-wifey @slytherincursebreaker @valerie977 @greenowlfactif @heimtathurs @yentroucnagol @schniiipsel @multiple-fandoms-girl @just-emmaaaa @tosiaf @kage-no-sonzai @targaryenrealnessdarling

#ewan mitchell #billy washington #ewan mitchell x reader #trigger point #billy washington x oc

[venmondiese]

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝/𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝!

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥/𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬

𝐄𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐆𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 ��𝐢𝐥𝐥 (𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬) 𝐎𝐬𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫

𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧/𝐀 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐫𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫

𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥!

#taglist #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #helaena targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #alicent hightower x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #bryden rivers x reader #shiera seastar x reader #ewanverse #ewan mitchell fanfic #tom bennett x reader #billy taylor x reader #michael gavey x reader #billy washington x reader #osferth x reader #will (salad days) x reader #a song of ice and fire fanfics #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x oc

[20thcentwriter]

The series masterlist

Introduction

The tracklist

chapter one- when Edith met Michael

Chapter two-

#ewan mitchell #ewan nation #ewanverse #michael gavey #ewan mitchell x reader #billy washington #modern aemond x reader #michael gavey x oc #michael gavey x reader #venus' masterlist

[lya-dustin]

The Ewanverse Family Tree

for shits and giggles and A Comedy of Non-Mathematical Errors

a collaboration by @toms-cherry-trees @elizarbell @huramuna

Family tree

9th and 10th century

(the last kingdom)

Osferth + unknown wife

19th century

Mr. and Mrs. Bennett

(World on Fire)                                                                     

Douglas Bennett + Josie Bennett 

-Tom Bennett                                                            

-Lois Bennett 

Vera Chase

(The Halycon)

Margaret ‘Peggy’ Bennett+ Mr. Taylor

William ‘Billy’ Taylor

unknown sister

(Granchester)

Unknown Bennett sibling

-Abraham

20th century

Bennett Family post wwii

Tom Bennett + Diane Shelby (oc)

-Thomas Bennett Jr(oc)

-Elizabeth Bennett (oc)

Bennett Family

1960s

(Saltburn)

Tom Jr + some rich girl he met in Oxford in the 60s (unclear how he became a peer)

Elspeth Catton

Eadmund Bennett (basis GRRM used for Aemond Targaryn)

Micah Bennett

Lizzie + several unnamed men she hooked up with during the 60s and 70s

Billy Washington’s mom, Val Washington(Trigger Point)

Will from Salad Days’ dad

Jack from Fire’s mom

Bennett Family

1980s-1990s

Tom Jr's kids and grandkids

Elspeth + Sir James Catton

-Michael Cherwell Catton

-Felix River Catton

-Venetia Trinity Catton

Eadmund Bennett + Alice Rivers

-Ettore Rivers

Micah Bennett (via sperm donation)

Genyen/Shawn (Doctors)

Lizzie’s grandkids

Lana and Billy Washington (Trigger Point)

Will(Salad Days)

Jack and his brother (Fire)

Daniel from the veggie addicts video

Every single small role Ewan has ever been on

#ewan mitchell #abraham grantchester #aemond targaryen #ettore #elspeth catton #billy washington #billy taylor #the halcyon #trigger point #saltburn #my ocs #salad days #will salad days #genyen #tom bennett #tom bennett x ofc #world on fire bbc

[aemondgirlfriend]

Hey, how are you? Here is a list of my available stories, I will update as more stories are created.

Enjoy! 🫶

AEMOND TARGARYEN

Invisible Strings (in progress)

(aemond x alysanne “OC”)

MICHAEL GAVEY

34+35 (one shot)

#everyone #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x fem!oc #aemond the kinslayer #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell #modern!aemond #tom bennett x reader #billy washington

[rutschsblog]

LOVE AND WAR CHAPTER 1

goodnight robicheaux x oc

summary: addie and goody haven’t seen each other for years. what will happen when they see each other again? will their love re-kindle?

The second I heard a knock at my door I had a bad feeling in my stomach. I don’t know why, but I did.

“Who is it?” I called out as my hand grazed my pistol that was sitting on my bedside table.

“The name’s Faraday. Joshua Faraday. Sam Chisolm sent me.”

“God damn,” I laughed to myself in pure shock. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Sam. I walked over to open up the door. The man was a little under 6ft, he was probably give or take 4 years older than I was. I gave him a small smile as I held my hand out to shake his. He responded and tipped his hat to me.

“So how did you meet Chisolm? You seem to be a hell of a lot younger than he is.” Faraday asked as we trotted our horses to the “meeting spot”.

“For the record I’m 32 so not that much younger if you ask me. About seven or so years ago I knew a fella named Goodnight. Him and Sam were friends so I knew him.”

“Goodnight Robicheaux?” He asked in disbelief.

“Yes sir, we were um… good friends but my Daddy wasn’t a huge fan of me and him being together if you know what I mean.” It was true, I was in love with Goody but my Daddy hated him so much he made us move states. But he’s been dead for five years now and I live on my own. I wish I could go back and tell him I wasn’t leaving. Faraday didn’t respond, all he did was let out a little chuckle as we stopped at this huge tree. There were a few people scattered around the tree. I hopped off my horse as I ran up to Sam and gave him a hug. He groaned as our bodies collided and held me tight.

“Goody’s here,” he whispered in my ear as he pulled away from me. I saw him. He was leaning up against the tree, cigarette in hand.

“Who’s the lady?” I asked as I tried to forget Goody was a yard away from me.

“That’s Emma. We work for her,”

I smiled kindly as I walked over and shook her hand.

“How are you?” I asked.

“Glad to see another woman,” She laughed in content as we shook hands. I let go of her hand and walked up to Goody.

“Hey,” I greeted quietly. His head shot up so fast you’d think he’d heard a ghost. I couldn’t quite read his facial expression as he took a long draw of his cigarette, never breaking eye contact with me. I was horrified, I know that sounds stupid. I didn’t have a reason to be horrified of him, when I told him I had to leave he was nothing but kind and understanding. I’ll never forget what he said to me that day. “maybe someday we’ll see each other again and we can start over,”. I still loved him, I never touched any other man since him. It sounds pathetic but I couldn’t. I guess I held onto the hope that someday we’d see each other again.

“How’s your Daddy?” Goodnight asked in a smart-ass tone.

“Dead, heart attack,” I responded with a light laugh. Sure I liked my father but I’m not the most forgiving person on planet earth. I certainly wasn’t gonna forgive him for taking love away from me. Goody stood up tall and started walking towards his horse as he walked by he made sure to get as close to me as possible. I could feel his breath on my face as he spoke.

“It’s good to see you Addie,” He smiled as he put a kind hand on my shoulder before he continued to make his way over to his horse. I sighed as I wiped the sweat that gathered onto my forehead. This was gonna be a long trip.

“Who’s that?” I called out as I pointed in the general direction of a man I’ve never seen before.

“Billy Rocks he’s with me,” Goody responded as he put his hat back on his head. I walked up to Faraday as he was having a conversation with Sam.

“Oh good we gotta mexican,” Faraday said sarcastically as he walked up to the poor guy.

“Ole muchacho,”

“Faraday stop being an ass,” I criticized as I walked past him, grabbing the hat off of his head in the process.

“What a merry band we are.” Goody commented as we trotted on our horses down a dusty path. He went on to give everyone a stereotype such as a “texican” and so on. But there’s one thing he said that stuck with me.

“This is not gonna end well.”

#goodnight robicheaux x oc #goodnight robicheaux #the magnificent seven #billy rocks #sam chisolm #joshua faraday #ethan hawke #chris pratt #denzel washington #fanfic

[evita-shelby]

To do list

Eva x Tommy being domestic in their old age

Add some 300 or more words to ch.16 of Incantatrice

Time traveler!Diane (a la Ministery of Time/Ministerio del Tiempo) x Ewan Mitchell characters(Osferth, Tom Bennett, Abraham, Billy Washington, Genyen/Shawn) (bonus: Aemond x Diane)

National Anthem ch.2

Johnathan Crane x Eva

#tommy shelby x oc #jack nelson x eva smith #tom bennett x ofc #billy washington x ofc #genyen x ofc #osferth x ofc #time traveler!Diane Shelby #luca changretta x oc #evacore #johnathan crane (nolanverse) x oc #aemond x oc #diane shelby

[arcielee]

Do you have any fic recs for other characters that Ewan has played?? Tom especially??

Okay, I have my tags [☆ arcie's library & ☆ arcie's fic recs] but you mentioned one of my favorites played by Ewan soo...

My darling anon, do I ever.

Here are some Tom fucking Bennett ficrecs 💖

For series I adore:

The Seamstress & The Sailor by @assortedseaglass This is definitely one of my favorites. Hilde portrays Tom in a way the WoF writers envy and her OCs that she knits into this story are just so perfectly flawed. This is a slow burn and I just love every word.

Gone With Regrets by @myfandomprompts One of my first Tom Bennett stories I have read and I absolutely fell in love. Her Tom is such a scoundrel with a heart of gold and I fucking adored it.

As the World Burns by @theoneeyedprince This has another rich OC. I love the interactions she has with Tom so far, just this palpable tension between. The story is new, but with how Justine delivered with A Refined Taste, I have complete faith in that I will love this one as well.

One-shot delights & depravities I love:

I enjoyed @exitpursuedbyavulcan 12 Days of Smuff, especially the Tom Bennett pieces that fed into one another. They were delicious.

@helaelaemond has written some of the raunchiest Tom Bennett x reader stories that always leave me weak in the fucking knees.

@aemondsbabe [Homecoming] & @happilyhertale [all her Tom Bennett x reader] & @adragonprinceswhore [her Tom Bennett x reader] are other one-shots I have read and enjoyed thoroughly.

@valeskafics has written for Tom Bennett x reader, but she also writes for the Ewanverse in general, and since you mentioned characters 😈

And since you mentioned other characters...

@troublesomesnitch did this Abraham x reader piece that had me chewing on my furniture.

@fallingintoyourlilaceyes has written for Osferth and Michael Gavey and it is also delicious.

@itbmojojoejo did this piece for Ettore that I fucking loved: Home Sweet Prison [but I just noticed there was another one, omg 👀]

And for those who got to see Salad Days, Redemption by @babyblue711 was just wonderful.

Oh! Honorable mention to that sad, wet cat Billy Washington. Most of the writers I have mentioned have also written for him because how can you not?? Look at him! 😭

Please note this is such a small selection of the talent that is on this hellsite. Feel free to reblog with with some of your favorites!

#ask arcie #☆ arcie's fic recs

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

I Gave You My Heart

14/12: Hand Holding & Dry Humping - Billy Washington Word Count: 2.1k~ | Warnings: grinding, p in v sex, horniness as a result of drinking alcohol

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

Christmas was always a difficult time of year for Billy.

To most, it was a happy, cheerful time, when families would gather, stuff themselves with as much meat as they could manage, drink as much wine as they wanted without stumbling into the garden shed (as his dad did the year before, to which his mum still hasn’t let him forget) and pass out on the sofa before the King’s speech could even come on tele.

To Billy, as with most years he gathered at his parent’s house, it was just another opportunity for his parents, sister and extended family to badger him with the usual abundance of questions.

How’s the job hunt going? Not well? Aw, well there’ll be something out there for you. Just have to keep at it.

No girlfriend yet?

You’re still looking for a job?

Lana not here yet? She’s doing well isn’t she?

He felt that if he had to go through yet another year of it, he’d go ballistic.

Aunties. Uncles. Cousins. He hugged them all on arrival, but felt very little.

But this year was different.

There was an element of protection she provided. A buffer, so to speak. And Billy being Billy, didn’t want to lean on her for that buffer, but was relieved all the same when she didn’t mind.

How did she do it?

How did she smile through it? Remain polite, despite the fact that it was socially sapping and emotionally draining to be around this many new people at once, all bombarding her with questions.

She was the shiny new item to a mischief of magpies, and all his aunties were babbling like turkeys at her, taking all the attention away from him. To his relief.

He watched her with a warmth to his face, a can of cheap beer in one hand, leaning against the radiator in the hallway to warm his backside.

She entertained them with brief, vague answers, but still somehow managed to keep that smile to her face he loved so much. Perhaps he was just wavy from the alcohol, he couldn’t tell. But he did realise he was flushing with embarrassment when her eyes clapped on him from across the room, and he realised he’d been caught staring.

His heart rate skyrocketed as she excused herself and crossed the room like she was floating, the Christmas cracker tissue paper crown was still somehow perched on the top of her head, whether she realised it or not.

“What you doing here by yourself, Wash?” she smiled.

He’d almost forgotten to move his lips to reply, his face was so hot.

“Making use of the central heating to warm your arse?” she prodded with a cheeky smile, turning to stand beside him, pressing her own back to the radiator and sighing as the warmth spread through her body from the middle outwards.

“Have my aunties bored you to death?” he asked, smirking beneath the rim of his can as he sipped.

She laughed through her nose, “That obvious?” she smiles, “Nah, it’s alright. Much better company than my house on Christmas Day, anyway. At this point, my dad’d be a snoring mess on the sofa and mum’d be fretting about Boxing Day lunch”.

In his alcohol-addled state, the raising of Billy’s eyebrows was a bit unmatched, alongside the lazy smile on his face, “I can picture that”.

She raised her own eyebrow at the way he seemed to subtly sway, despite being stood.

“What number’s this?” she asked with a knowing smirk.

And she watched with amusement as the cogs inside Billy’s head visibly turned, trying to form a memory of how many cans he’d swiped from his dad’s fridge before now.

“Um…4? I think?”

“You think?”

He pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh out of embarrassment.

The heat once again rose to his chiselled features, something she would never not find endearing about him. Sometimes it was worth saying something risque or embarrassing just to see this beanpole of a man blush.

His baby blue’s glimmered with drunkenness as he looked over at her, for a moment searching her face as if he was ticking off all boxes that were labelled with her features. Her eyes. Her lips. The gentle slant of her cheeks. The shape of her nose. How her dimples sank in when she smiled lovingly at him.

He was sure nobody in his life had ever looked at him the way she did.

It made him feel good and also like he wanted to hide at the same time.

“You wanna get home soon?”

He nodded without even thinking. God, he fucking loved her for that. The way she was able to know when he was socially complete without him having to say it.

Leaving in any British household, especially on Christmas Day, is an event in itself.

It takes twenty minutes minimum, to pack up all the things you have, piling the presents you’ve received into various bags for life, and giving a ceremonial hug and a peck on the cheek to all who are still awake and present. Often people who you’d circle back to once you finally made it to the door, graced with yet another hug goodbye.

It was solemnly enchanting, the clear roads on Christmas Day, the ice that clung to the side of the roads, and the grit that coated the middle. Christmas music blared through her radio, muffled by static, and about the sixtieth time that BBC Radio 1 had played ‘All I Want For Christmas is You’. And they’d both laughed, delirious from over-socialising, when she’d realised only halfway through the drive back home, that she was still wearing the shoddy tissue paper crown.

“Was Santa good to you this year?” she’d asked jokingly, briefly turning her head from the red light.

He huffed a laugh, “He’s about to be when we get home”.

She rolled her eyes, shifting the car into first, but unable to help the smile that rose to her face.

Billy’s flat was donned with the basics of Christmas decorations.

Fairy lights along the headboard of the bed, a tiny plastic tree on the side table, several tea lights along the TV stand and finally, the pièce de résistance, the scented faux pine candle sat in the middle of the coffee table. Lit and extinguished this morning, but still managed to fill the room with a pleasant woody fragrance.

Billy talked big when he was a bit drunk. But she knew him better than that.

And though Billy might have wanted to tear all her clothes off, pull her to the nearest flat surface and let her know all he’d wanted for Christmas, all he was able to do was snuggle in behind her on the sofa, throw one arm around her waist and kiss the top of her head as his brain swam.

It was just noise mostly, something to fill the comfortable silence as the late afternoon became late evening, the tea lights illuminating the front room with a pleasant atmosphere. She was sure he’d fallen asleep, the hand that was over her middle now firmly in hers, his long digits intertwined with her small ones. Not that she minded. She simply held his hand, using her other to scroll through her phone with the volume turned down so he wouldn’t wake up.

She clicked her phone off when she felt his arm tighten around her middle, tugging her back closer to him and turned her head up to smile at him, “Billy”.

His eyes were closed as if half asleep, his dark blonde eyelashes moving to betray the fact that he was indeed awake, but he only hummed, his hips chasing hers to grind against her backside. The alcohol had fuelled his desire, but had hindered his actual ability to act on said desires, and he made a noise of frustration when his body hadn’t reacted the way he wanted.

“...‘m sorry…”, he mumbled quietly, speech slurred endearingly.

“For what?”

“...’ts my little soldier…can’t…”

She had to press her lips together to stifle a laugh, not used to or remembering Billy being this loose-lipped under the influence of alcohol. All the while he was still pressing his soft and clothed length against your backside, willing his ‘little soldier’ to life, to no avail.

It was both endearing and amusing, that even in the state Billy was in he was trying, and god he really was trying, to initiate intimacy, fully knowing that the likelihood was that he wasn’t going to be able to. Much much too drunk to even think straight.

“It’s alright, Billy, just go to sleep, ok?”

He huffed much like a child would when you refused him something.

“...but it’s Christmas…”

“Sex on Christmas Day is no better than sex on any other day. Just get some sleep, okay?”

He sighed, slumping his head onto the cushion in something akin to defeat, fingers still threaded through hers on her stomach. But not a moment later, she heard his steady breaths and threw the blanket over him as well as her and laid her head down as well.

Waves of consciousness kept pulling her to the surface, a pleased sound falling from her lips as she parted them, feeling all warm both against her flesh and tugging in her gut as well.

She could feel Billy’s hot puffs of air against her neck and ear, the hair there reacting to his quickened breaths as they stood on end, her brain failing to realise quickly enough what was going on, and why her boyfriend lay behind her, was breathing so quickly.

That was until she heard him whimper, a stuttered moan following it.

“Mm…Billy?..”

Her eyelashes fluttered open, and instead of the warm ropes of sleep tugging her down it was something else, something hardpressing against her and chasing friction. His grip on her hands was so tight, his knuckles were almost white from the effort of holding back.

By now the candles had all burned out, save one, and the sky outside was pitch black, with the smallest flurry of snow decorating the darkness.

Hours had gone by.

She jumped when she felt his hands, colder than she expected, dip beneath her jumper and shirt, pressing his large palm against the flesh of her stomach, his little finger teasingly sliding beneath the waistband of her underwear.

“Sorry - babe, I need you…”

She could feel how impossibly hard he was through his jeans, chasing friction with every cant of his hips, using one hand to unzip them with difficulty as his other held onto her like she might disappear.

Freeing his length from his boxers, Billy almost moaned aloud when he saw that she was pulling her own jeans down as well, having woken more than aroused at the idea he was grinding against her searching for pleasure. So he made use of his hand and turned her face towards him, enveloping her soft, puffy lips with his own in a warm, wet kiss, not pausing for a moment to think about anything else other than having her right now, as he’d dreamt of doing since Christmas morning.

She nearly gasped when he slid his thick manhood into her, sheathing himself inside her in one, smooth confident movement, as if nothing, nothing, was going to stop him from basking in the warmth she offered.

In this position, with her thighs squeezed together, and his hand on her hips, pulling her back to him with each desperate thrust, it felt like so much more. And every blow to the sweet spot that lay deep inside her felt so utterly maddening, that her brain, still rising from sleep, felt like it was being shaken around.

She came with a choked cry, her grip on his wrist where his nimble fingers were applying frustratingly little pressure to her bud as he continued to piston into her. And when she was so close to begging him to stop from overstimulation, Billy leaned back a little, his teeth grazing against her neck and one hand palming her backside to push himself deeper as he too came with a long, broken whine.

His chest moved against her back with his heavy breathing, sucking in air into his lungs after the craze he’d just fallen over.

Billy pressed kisses to her neck and jaw in a sort of admiration, moving slightly with his length still buried inside her, eliciting a whimper from her as well as the friction.

She felt his eyelashes move against her cheek when he opened his eyes, “Did we really just shag with Die Hard on in the background?” he chuckled breathily.

This time, she couldn’t hold back her tired laugh, swatting his arm playfully, “you’re such a dickhead.”

He smiled wearily, turning her face once more to capture her swollen lips in a kiss, more tender this time without the urgency of desire.

“What was that about Christmas Day sex?” he prodded.

She furrowed her brows and double-tapped her phone.

23:49.

Cheeky fucker.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

#12 days of smuff #smuffmas #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #billy washington x oc #billy washington x reader #billy washington #billy washington x y/n #billy washington smut #trigger point billy washington #trigger point series #trigger point fanfic #billy washington fluff #billy washington fic #billy washington fanfic

[helaelaemond]

Who Else Is Gonna Put Up With Me This Way? - Billy Washington x reader

Pairing: Billy Washington x female reader

Summary: You’re in an unstable relationship with Billy Washington - you've broken up with him countless times, and he's found himself back between your thighs again. This time, though, it's for real. But you're the one thing worth fighting for.

Dark!Billy, dub-con, possessive Billy, fingering, penetrative sex (f receiving), rough treatment, degradation.

Warnings: mentions of rape (none committed), mentions of domestic abuse (none committed by Billy, reader slaps him), discussions of Islamophobia,

Rating: E

Word count: 2.9k

Based on the results from this poll. Doing it for the girls gays and theys!

tagging those who showed interest: @tssf-imagines / @slytherincursebreaker / @humanpurposes / @arcielee / @elizarbell / @heimtathurs / @ewanmitchellcrumbs / @targaryenrealnessdarling / @valeskafics

"What are y'doing?"

You shove past him and storm into the bedroom, grabbing a bag from the wardrobe and dropping it onto the bed. "I'm done. I'm fucking done."

"Are you serious?" Billy stands in the doorway with a red face and thin lips, watching you with wide eyes.

You spit the answer back at him. "Does it look like I'm joking?" You grab whatever you can from the draws next to your side of the bed and shove them into your bag without looking.

"Over this?"

"This? This? You've lost your fucking mind! I don't recognise you anymore!"

"Oh, c'mon, I was drunk, and no one got hurt-!"

"Those people woke up to find they've been victims of your stupidity, all because you believe bullshit you've read-"

"Give me a fucking break!" He slams his hand on the door frame, and his eyes blaze.

"You hitting that because you want to hit me?"

Billy slinks over to you and rips the bag from your hand. "Don't act like I'd ever lay a hand on you; you know I wouldn't."

"I don't know what you'd do anymore," you answer defiantly. "I didn't think you'd ever smash up a Muslim butchers, yet here we are!"

"For fuck's sake! Who cares? No one got hurt!"

You wrench the bag from his hands and throw in a couple of tops and trousers, before pushing past him to the bathroom. He dogs your steps.

"They're real people; you know that, right?"

"I'm sure they're insured. Everyone knows those people are tight with their money. Got their own banks with special rules and everything."

"Those people? Your brain's been rotted by those fucking pigs you call friends! I don't even recognise you half the time!" After grabbing your toiletries, you're back in the bedroom packing up phone chargers, your earring box, your hairbrush. Whatever you need for a few nights, before you come back to get the rest of your stuff.

He keeps close to you. Threatening you. Shadowing you. He's so tall. You hate him. You fucking love him. That's why this is so hard.

"I'm still me," he says lowly.

"Oh yeah? Prove it."

"How?"

"Get rid of those cunts rewiring your brain, and start giving a fuck about people again."

His lip twitches and he catches your arm, pulling you close to him. "I care about you."

With more strength than you realise you have, you press your hands against his chest and escape his clutches. "Not enough."

He follows you when you go into the living room. It's messy, covered in beer cans and food containers and papers and cables, and you let out a shout of frustration. "I hate it here! I fucking hate it!"

"If you hate it so much, why do you keep coming back?" he thunders.

You open your mouth to reply, but no words come. You know why. He knows why. It's pathetic, really. But you can't quit him. He poisons your life, and God, you love the way it tastes.

Fury flashes in his pretty eyes, the eyes that capture you every time. He smirks, but there's no humour in it. "That's what I thought. Can't stay away, can you? You know you're mine."

"Don't play that game," you warn.

"S'not a game."

Billy steps closer to you again, and something akin to dread rushes through you. "No, it's not. So fuck off."

"D'you hate me?"

You glare up at him. There's fire in you now, fire in your belly, in your eyes. "Yeah, I do."

"Liar."

You suddenly slap him, and he grunts as his head is knocked to the side. God, it feels good to do that. Even when he turns to look at you in shock, in disgust, it feels good. "I hate you."

When he grabs you by the waist and shoves you against the wall, it's not a surprise. That doesn't make it any less of a thrill. He runs his nose up your neck and inhales deeply. "So if I shove my hand against your pussy, I'll find you dry?"

"Don't fucking touch me!" You hit his chest to try to get him away from you, but he's stronger. He doesn't go to the gym anymore, but he's stronger. You grab his hair and pull, but he's stronger.

"This is what you want, huh?" His large hands push up your shirt and grasp without care at your breasts. It hurts. It's good. "To pretend you hate me and pretend you don't want this?"

"I don't want it!" A half lie. You shouldn't want it. You know you shouldn't.

"Oh yeah?" he grunts. One hand wraps around your throat, finger and thumb pressing against the edge of your jaw, and the other slips under your waistband. You clench your legs together in response - but he's stronger. The heat between them betrays you, and he wedges his fingers between your folds to find slickness gathering there. "Sure feels like you want it."

"That's got fuck all to do with you."

His eyebrows are raised as he looks down at you, towering tall. Sandy hair flops messily over his eyes, unkempt and greasy. He's disgusting. But you chase his hand.

"I think you like me like this." Dropping his voice, he runs his finger around your clit, as if you're in any way ready for that.

"Like what?" you hiss. "A fucking rapist?"

"No one's getting raped, baby. You want this. You want me to force you to stay."

"No, I don't!" But you grab his wrist to hold it in place. For a moment, it seems like he's taking your words to heart and so his fingers still, but you hold him fast to make sure they stay where they are.

Looking into your face, he grins coldly. "You're such a slut, aren't you? You gonna come on my fingers?"

"You wish! You couldn't make me come now if you tried."

The fingers on your throat tighten slightly, and they apply pressure to the thick veins under your skin. He will be able to feel how quick your pulse is getting. Billy leans his close facer to yours. "You think anyone will be able to make you feel like I do?"

You shake your head slightly. "No. That's the point."

"Hmm." His lip twitches in anger. And then his fingers are pressing against your soft folds, digging it, dragging nails down them, and your stifled groan makes his eyes glint. "You love being used however I want."

"No, I don't. I'm not your thing to play with."

Then, his hands are gone, and he presses the length of his body against yours, and you're trapped tight between him and the wall, and it feels crushing, it's overwhelming, it's stifling-

Billy bites your ear and blows into it. It makes your nipples hard. "Yes, you are. Always have been." He rolls his hips against you, and it presses his half-hard cock against your stomach. As you clench around nothing, a shiver runs through your body. Of course, he notices, and he grins. "See? You want me to use you like the whore you are."

"I'm not a whore," you rasp. "You never fucking paid me."

"Maybe I should have done. You suck my cock like a porn star. All needy and whimpering like you can't live without it."

"Get off me!"

But you grasp the back of his shirt and claw at the skin at the base of his spine. It's so soft there, the gentle peach fuzz comforting under your fingertips. He's still Billy, somewhere underneath it all. Maybe. He presses harder. It's difficult to breathe.

Messily, he licks against your ear and groans. The obscene sound makes your eyes roll back."You leave this flat, you're never coming back."

"Then let me go."

"Never."

You drag your nails over his skin. Red welts are left in the wake. "You're a monster."

"What does that make you, then?" Billy asks with a dry chuckle.

"Stop trying to turn this into a game."

He pulls back to look at you with hooded eyes, lips parted. "I already told you, this in't a game."

"Even if it was, you'd lose." Something comes over you, and you spit in his face. "Fucking loser. Freak."

It makes him snarl. It makes him rough. With all his strength, he turns you to face the wall and shoves down your trousers, your underwear. You can barely spread your legs before he slaps between them, a hard hand grasping your cunt from behind. He squeezes and you yelp in pain. A strong arm is pinned across the back of your shoulders to keep you in place.

Then he squeezes your clit. At this angle, it's caught between two fingers while his thumb shoves against your entrance. It stings, the pressure, but it's worse when he takes his touch away. "If I'm a freak, you're the pathetic slut who wants to get fucked. God, you can't help it, can you? Getting this wet for me?" You can hear him inhale deeply, and the wet noises of him licking your taste off his fingers. You struggle slightly against his firm hold, but it's half-hearted. More than anything, you just want him to touch you again. "God, you taste so good. You ready to take me like the little fuck toy you are?"

"No," you lie, again and again. "Billy, don't you dare-!"

With knees bent, he pushes down his grey joggers and pulls his cock free, and slides between your thighs from behind. "No one's gonna treat you like this."

"You're a fucking monster!" Leaning forward, you press your forehead against the wall. You clamp your legs shut and trap his cock between them, and he responds by shoving you harder against the wall.

"And you're a cunt. My cunt, every dripping inch of it. Spread your legs."

"Make me."

Billy twists the arm on your back to grab your hair instead. The pull on it hurts, makes your spine arch uncomfortably, and a needy whimper escapes you. Fuck. He doesn't need to know how good he's making you feel.

"That's all you ever want, isn't it?" he whispers against your ear. "Me to take away every last bit of your control until you're nothing but a fuck toy for me."

Having your head pulled back this far makes it hard to speak. Between your thighs, his cock can't move, and you can tell how irritated it's making him. "I don't want anything from you."

"Open your mouth."

Your lip curls. Even with your hair wrapped around his hand, you manage to shake your head. Insolence isn't kindly received, and so rough hands suddenly straighten you up and flip you so your back is against the wall again. His hand goes back to your face and he presses against your cheeks until it hurts so bad you can't do anything but open your jaw. Without hesistating, Billy spits into it, heavy eyes watching your mouth. It makes your knees fucking weak.

You want to whimper. You want to swallow. Every part of him is sacred, and you want to consume him whole. At any other time, you would.

His voice is a murmur. "Swallow."

To let you do it, he lets go of your jaw, but his touch does not stray far. It finds its place on your throat, hoping to feel you obey him. Instead, you spit his taste out onto the floor. He doesn't like that.

"You stupid bitch." Suddenly, his fingers are buried back against your cunt and he rubs cruel and wide circles around your clit, fingers digging into soft and swollen flesh.

So, you grab his flushed balls and squeeze and he yelps in surprise, in pain. The hand at your throat shoves your head against the wall. The other leaves your heated core and shoves down your trouers and underwear until theyre at your ankles. Whether you would allow him or not, he takes them off completely, and as he bends down to do so, you wonder if he'll kiss your cunt.

Billy looks at it with longing in his eyes, but then he glances up at your face and the softness is gone. "Don't even need me to spit on you here, do you? You're so wet already."

"Nothing to do with you," you lie again.

"You need me."

"I'd rather die."

With more strength than seems possible, he looms over you and hooks his arm under one thigh. It makes you reach up onto your toe desperately, and then his blunt head is pressing against you. He holds it there for a moment, a threat, a promise. "Say you need me."

You squrim away from him half-heartedly. It makes you sick to your stomach that he's right. "I hate you!"

"Say it!"

One hand grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks. The other claws at the small of his back in an attempt to pull him closer. And then he does. The intrusion hurts in the best way. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, your throat refusing to let the noise escape.

And then he moves.

Billy is relentless in his pace, slamming into you over and over again. He doesn't give you time to adjust, time to relax, he just takes and takes and takes.

"Mine," he grunts, voice shaking.

"No," you choke.

"Yes."

"Fucking bastard!"

Billy kisses your mouth messily before you have a chance to turn away. It's sloppy, wet, desperate. His tongue presses roughly past your teeth and it makes your stomach tighten. But still, you turn your face away to deny him, so he covers your cheek and neck in hot kisses instead.

"Mine," he grunts again against your ear.

"Not anymore."

He returns his hand to your cunt again and as he keeps a steady and fast pace that makes sweat break out on his brow, he rubs you fiercely. It makes your hands clench into fists.

"I'll keep you forever," he promises. His words are punctuated with rough thrusts. "I own you."

Words are so beyond you now. He's rough, he's possessive, and he's fucking right. You fling an arm around the back of his neck and hold him close as he fucks you like it's the first time, the last time. His pace gets faster, more erratic, and then the tell-tale gasps begin to come.

"Don't you dare!" you cry out.

"With me," he answers breathlessly.

"Make me!"

You feel him nod as you hold him close. He licks your ear, making your heart rush in your cunt, and he moans for you just as you like. It drives you higher along with his hand, and then there it is, that pressure in your stomach, the tension between your thighs that pushes you higher.

"Shit, shit, Billy, yes, yes-!"

"With me," he begs. "Cum with me, baby."

"No!" Yes. Yes, cum with him, please, please, please-

"That's it, ah-! Fuck, like that, baby, keep-! Fuck, I'm-!"

Billy's hips stutter and he shoves them against yours as his thights tremble. His orgasm forces him to his toes, and his hand shakes against your clit. It washes over him again and again, and as the last of his seed spurts inside you, you follow him into oblivion. This time, your scream is not silent.

Against the wall, he holds you safely. Your heartbeats are matched as your chests press together, only thin layers of cotton separating your skin there. Your breathing is in time with his, too. In, out. In, out.

He kisses your neck. It makes you squirm. "Let me go."

Carefully, he pulls out of you and sets your leg down. Smiling softly at you, he kisses your forehead. Already you can feel his seed trickling out of you, and it turns your stomach. You can't be here a second longer. It's fine, you can shower later, get his stench of you.

You'll never be free of it.

"I need you," he murmurs as you pull your underwear and trousers back on. Now, his touches are soft and searching, petting your hair. You slap his hand away. He frowns. "I'll never leave you, you know?"

"I know." You might escape his presence, but he has taken root in your heart, for good or evil. "But it's done."

His trousers are back over his hips, and as he ties the string, he looks up at you with wide eyes. "What?"

"I'm done with you, Billy. I know you love me, every inch of my soul, but it's not enough anymore."

Large hands grasp yours. He winds his fingers through yours, and you let him. "You're my one true love. You can't go."

"You can't stop me."

And then his face darkens. Your lips part, and slowly, his eyes open, he kisses you on your open mouth. Pulling away, he smiles slightly and it doesn't spread kindly across his face. "I can."

"What're you gonna do, Billy? Tie me to the fucking bed?"

His hands return to the laces of his trousers, and as if he's not even thinking about it, he undoes them and begins pulling them through the waistband. Your stomach drops. And he takes your wrist, and kisses it. "If that's what it takes. I'll keep you forever. I own you."

#billy washington x reader #dark!billy washington #billy washington x you #billy washington x oc #billy washington smut #ewan mitchell #mine #trigger point #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington

[assortedseaglass]

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝔹𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕋𝕠 𝕄𝕖 - 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

Billy Washington x OFC

They had always been opposites, and sometimes Ida thought that the only thing they had in common was their childhood. Pulled in different directions, a series of events throughout one summer heatwave will change everything.

Warning: This series contains strong language, sex and depictions of racism and violence. Trigger Point (TV) Spoilers.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

#ewan mitchell #trigger point #billy washington #billy washington x oc

[asumofwords]

List of Requests

So I had my requests open for a hot minute, and now they are closed, so here is the collected list of requests that I will be getting through eventually! <3 hehe. I can't promise I will get to every single one quickly or ever, but here is what I got in my inbox! <3

Larys x Reader filth @valeskafics oh hi, I see you

Ghost/Possession!Aemond (currently in the works) hehe thanks to @kaelatargaryen

Breastmilk Aemond (I got a few of these to noone's surprise, so there may be more than one haha)

Dark!Aemond obsessed with Laena and Daemon's eldest daughter

Babysitter!reader with DILF!Aemond

Dark!Reader x Dark!Aemond

Prisoner!Aemond x Reader (breastmilk fic)

7 Minutes in Heaven, Tom Bennett x reader

Billy Washington x Girlfriend!Reader, aftermath of the car bomb where he survives

Dark!Aemond Duels Readers Betrothed for her hand

Alys x Reader smut ;)

Modern!Aemond!Bodyguard x Bratty!Reader

Dancer!Reader x Aegon x Jealous!Aemond

Tattooed!Reader x Aemond

Helaena's Lady in Waiting x Aemond - Hurt, Angst

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader smut

Jealous!Obsessive!Aemond x OC Modern

Enemies to Lovers - Academic Rivals, Aemond x Reader

Aegon x Reader, Aemond x Reader, Angst, smut >:)

Thanks all who sent their requests in !!! <333

[strangest-loser]

Twilight Rewrite

Fire in my Blood ~ Jasper Hale x OC ~ Book One - Chapter One

Masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I had never given much thought as to how I would die, I expected it could be for some stupid accident or some kind of murder or something, I had hoped I would live to 102 and pass away in my sleep peacefully and without struggle, but if you told me I would die the week before my 18th birthday because I was being hunted by monsters that belong only in storybooks, I would have called you insane.

Forks, Washington was one of the coldest, rainiest places in all of the world as Alessia knew it, but she loved it. It was her home and it was where her friends and father were. After her parent’s messy divorce her mother Renée moved south with Alessia’s little sister Isabella to Phoenix, Arizona while she stayed with her father Charlie. Alessia adored her father and spent her childhood years following him around like a puppy (to the point where family friend Billy Black had nicknamed her “The little shadow”). She had a happy childhood with her friends Jacob and his pack of boys down at the reserve and it was often that her father had to come wrangle her out of some form of trouble that she had no doubt instigated.

Alessia’s favorite time of year, however, was when her baby sister came to visit them for the summer holidays. Alessia would spend two weeks getting a sunburn in Arizona sitting in front of a tv while her mother bought them little cakes and treats from some bakery for desert every night and she never failed to stick herself with a cactus needle at least once every trip. And as soon as those two weeks were up the summer dresses and shorts were traded for sturdy boots and rain jackets as Alessia dragged Bella through the forest surrounding their home for the next month, expertly weaving through the trees to get to the fort she had built with her father out of branches and slats of wood.

Getting older was what separated the sisters, who as children were thick as thieves. Bella grew to resent the time spent in the rain and cold and longed to spend more time in Phoenix with their mom and her friends, and while Alessia was still extended the invitation to stay with her mother and sister every year she couldn’t help but begin to pull away from that part of her life, the closer she grew with her father the more she began to feel like a stranger with her mother. Funny stories about her and her father’s antics that were mentioned at the dinner table caused her mother to stiffen and made the air uncomfortable, and the longer that Alessia spent in Arizona the more desperately homesick she grew for Forks. It was mutually decided, however, that Alessia would not come to Phoenix as often when her mother got a new boyfriend. Phil was nice and all, but she did not feel the same sense of comfort around her mother and sister, and her status as a stranger was reinforced to a degree that by the age of 13 Alessia stopped going altogether.

But she was happy, anyone who met her could see that. She enjoyed watching football with her father, Billy, and Jacob. She loved having bonfires on the beach with her boys and sharing scary stories only to spend the evening hiding from each other and scaring each other. She was silly and goofy but she was serious where it mattered, like letting her friend Leah run with her pack of boys on the threat that she would ignore them until they stopped being mean and let her play. She was kind and loving, meeting her friend Jessica in middle school and being her number one supporter, punching anyone who dared make fun of her insecure friend because she was so intelligent.

As she grew up Alessia grew extremely beautiful, but not in a conventional way, she didn’t remind people of the models in all of the magazines that Jessica would show her. She was beautiful in the way the woods were at sunset with the light shooting through the trees. She was strong and smart and pretty and caring, but she was also loud, opinionated, funny, sassy and quite honestly, she was wild. She had inherited her father’s brown hair and brown eyes, but there was something so uniquely ‘Alessia’ about her appearance.

Her freshman year of high school went much smoother than the movies would have you believe for Alessia. Her grades were good, and they were well maintained by letting Jessica tutor her because “Being a tutor would make me look good on my college applications Alessia!”. And while Forks football team didn’t enter many leagues (and lost all the ones that they did enter) Alessia managed to convince the faculty to let the girls who didn’t want to be on the volleyball team organize their own cheer squad for both teams, her argument being that if there were people cheering the teams on they might actually start winning.

Sophomore year was infinitely more interesting with the addition of five more students to their tiny school.  The Cullen’s were extremely interesting additions to Alessia’s life. In her own year, the three elder students joined her classes, Emmet Cullen who was funny and nice was her partner for English class its it was a wonder they got anything done at all with their running jokes about Mr. Mason and their literary texts as a whole. Emmet’s girlfriend was Rosalie Hale who was extremely beautiful but smart as a whip, she was strangely cold towards Alessia at the beginning of the year but eventually began to warm up to her at the request of Emmet (“she really isn’t all that bad Rose”) and with two new friends in her classes Alessia couldn’t be happier. It was the third sibling who was in her history class that threw her for a loop.

Jasper Hale was Rosalie’s twin brother and he was the only one of the group of five who wasn’t very fond of Alessia, the other two, Alice and Edward were in the year below them and they were always welcoming towards Alessia, especially Alice who greeted her every morning with a friendly hug before launching into some random topic of conversation.  But Jasper seemed to avoid her like the plague which did bother Alessia at first being that she wasn’t very used to people not liking her (her friendly demeanor often meant that people found her friendly and likeable), but after a while she grew used to it, accepting that maybe he just didn’t like her, and that was ok.

The strangest thing about the whole scenario was that while Alessia thought herself to be friends with the Cullens, it seemed that she was the only one, because according to Jessica Alessia was the only one they would entertain the thought of speaking to, let alone hang out with.

The next year is the year that everything changed, for one she began to evenly split her time between the Cullens and her other friend group consisting of Jessica, Angela, Eric, Mike, and Tyler. She would spend lunches with the Cullens and she would hang out with the others every evening after school, she spent weekends on the reserve with Jacob and Leah and the guys and her nights were spent watching sports and playing board games with her father. She was content with how her Junior year was going until March rolled around and the cold wind swept her sister back into her life and caused the hurricane that completely rearranged her world.

      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Early morning was officially the worst time to be alive, the cold crept through all three blankets on the bed and the hoodie that Alessia was sleeping in that night, and while the cold was never normally something that Alessia minded, 6:30 am was not the ideal time to face it. After taking a shower that seemed way too short and wrestling with her printer to get her Spanish homework for the day ahead she emerged from her room in her usual winter cheer uniform in its navy and gold colours with leggings, trainers and a yellow cardigan over top because Forks in March didn’t mess around and Alessia knew her classrooms would be freezing. Before making her way down to the kitchen she let her eyes linger to the door opposing hers, a door to a room that she had spent the last week clearing out and organizing. It was weird that Bella was coming after all this time, Alessia missed her sister but they had been apart for so long that it was like they were strangers at this point. A car horn is what brought her out of her daze as she rushed down the stairs grabbing her keys, wallet and an apple for some form of breakfast (Alessia wasn’t a breakfast person because eating food so early in the morning made her feel sick, but she knew it would stress Charlie out if she didn’t eat something) before disappearing out the door of her empty house. Her dad’s cruiser wasn’t parked in the driveway which was expected, he always left earlier than Alessia did, what was there instead was a pristine red Mercedes at the end of the driveway with the lights on and inside it sat Rosalie and Alice waiting for her. Alessia’s voice broke through the morning fog as she jogged towards the car, “you know, I should hate you for making me drive to school in a convertible in this weather” the smile that spread across Rosalie’s face matched the one on Alessia’s own as she replied, “yeah well you don’t so get in before I make you walk”.

According to Jessica arriving to school with the Cullens still managed to cause people to stare at Alessia, which she never noticed as she had been doing it for over a year now while trying to save up for a new car, that was a fact she didn’t dare share with any of her friends since when her phone decided to explode one day and stop working she told Alice that she needed a new one and the very next day Rosalie handed her an iPhone that there was no way she could afford, she still had it and took more care of that thing than she did to her own life. No way that was ever happening again. Hopping out of the side of the car after it pulled into its usual spot, she grabbed her backpack and pulled out the notes she needed to give back to Emmet from English the night before. “one of these days I wont be around to save your life you know” he spoke out with his usual mischievous look on his face, “yeah, yeah” she bounced back as she made her way across the parking lot to Tyler’s van where everyone else sat. She was immediately bombarded with everyone asking her if she was coming to the movies that evening. “sorry to disappoint but I have to go to the airport, my sister gets here today” the collective groan at her absence make her laugh as she told them not to be such babies and that she would see them with Bella the next morning, “I don’t want any of you numbskulls giving her any shit tomorrow you hear me?” she said pointing her accusing finger at the three guys in front of her, all of whom faked offence at even the notion. Their goofing off continued until the first period bell rang and Jessica and the others being a grade below her headed off to their homeroom as she headed towards APUSH.

Alessia adored history and she was highest in her class apart from Jasper. Not that she minded (she definitely minded), her teacher Mr Finch was one of her favorite people. He was a kind man in his 40s who had a genuine passion for teaching. Her seat in the back, left corner of the room was right next to the rooms only radiator which was busted but the corner gave her enough cover to be left out of sight by the teacher, she wasn’t in the mood to pay too much attention that morning considering she didn’t grab a coffee before she left the house.

The chatter of her fellow classmates played like white noise as Alessia pulled the top of her chocolate coloured hair into a hair tie and began pulling her homework out of her backpack before giving up and laying her head on the desk in front of her and groaning softly. Her early morning seemed to finally catch up with her, so much so that she did not notice the figure take up the desk beside hers until she heard him speak.

“well, don’t you just look chipper this morning” a southern voice broke through her sleepy haze and caused her mind to stop working for a second. The fact that Jasper was willing speaking to her was definitely new but Alessia was many things and a smartass was one of them. “yeah? well you know your day is off to a great start when you wake up and your first thought is, ‘no’.” she fired back at him raising her head to send a lazy smile his way. The chuckle that left him would have probably made Alessia’s knees weak if she were awake enough to comprehend it “yeah, I know the feeling”.

A smirk broke out on the 18-year old's face as her spine straightened and she looked him dead in his topaz coloured eyes. “did you just… agree with me?” Jasper immediately turned away to face the front of the room, still without a teacher, “oh I wish I could take- “, “nope! You said it! no take-backs!”.

The exasperated look that met her then forced a giggle out of her as she stuck her tongue out at him. “What? I was a very irritating child”, this was met with another chuckle but before he could give another reply Mr Finch’s voice called out as he finally entered the room and commanded all their eyes to the front of the room once more. Alessia let an uncontrollable smile grace her lips as her mind processed what just happened.

Maybe he didn’t completely despise her after all.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#twilight x reader #jasper hale x reader #twilight #twilight rewrite #x oc #original character #Alessia Swan OC #fire in my blood #bella swan #edward cullen #alice cullen #rosalie twilight #rosalie hale #jasper hale

[alias-b]

Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me

California, 1992. Billy Hargrove and Camille Harper built their future in an endless, red hot summer. Everything changes with a splash of pale blue. Billy x OC! Camille Harper

A/N: The baby one shot I promised everyone! Occurs after my fic, "Without The Lights." Warning, I get into the not pretty side of pregnancy and Camille struggles with her illness. Sexual content. TW: graphic description of birth and postpartum depression. Mention of death and past torture. Cross posted here on AO3

1992

   She’d been late.

   Camille Harper was never late to anything.

   Then, she’d taken ill. Scents that used to thrill her in the morning like fresh coffee, fluffed pancakes, and scrambled eggs sent her scurrying into the bathroom.

   Billy looked up from his desk, covered in different lead pencils and scattering papers. Grotesque concept art for an upcoming horror film he’d been working on. Still pretty as a picture. Less of a baby in the face, but still just as sweet. Sprinkle of facial hair and lashes for days.

   “Ugh, so much for sleeping in Saturday.” Camille gargled mouthwash, spat, and wandered out. Brown hair grown out and piled up in a bun. Billy’s arm snaked around her hips, bringing her into his side. A temple pressed into her nightgown. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

   The back of his knuckle drew along her forehead. Cool metal of his wedding ring chilled.

   “No fever. You probably ate something last night, I told you the shrimp was a bad idea.”

   The very word ‘shrimp’ almost made her hurl again.

   “We’re not trying that place again.” Camille kissed the top of his head. Curls longer like a rockstar around his shoulders. “I have a new case to prepare for the office Monday.”

   “Boy or girl?” Billy set his pencil down and watched her plop into the couch.

   “Girl.” Camille frowned, rubbing her head. “She’s got a wall up, this one. Office likes me so her case is mine. Arthur thinks it’s a good match, but I’m actually nervous.”

   “Arthur this and that.” Came a scoff. “School buddies who ended up at the same office. Pshh.”

   “Arthur is taken now and quite happy.”

   “Who swept him off his perfect feet so he’ll quit bothering my wife?”

   “Lovely man named Stanley.” Camille laughed when Billy gave a double take. “Went drinking together while you played with latex masks last Thursday.”

   “It was crunch time. I’m sure your new case will be fine. Brilliant Dr. Harper. Blazing through all that schooling and study abroad. Almost in the clear.” Billy mused, switching his light off. “We’ll see if they like this new design I got. Tea?”

   “Yes, please.” Camille slid down the couch, pulled a fuzzy blanket into her body while Billy went into the kitchen. Cozy apartment they could afford. Walls covered in memories. Photos and degrees. She clicked the remote and settled on a light movie. Look Who’s Talking.

   A campy opening of sperm headed toward a dropped egg after a mini love scene with Kirstie Alley. Camille sighed, rubbing her head before something clicked the same moment hot water howled from the tea pot in the kitchen.

   “Oh, shit.” She shot up. Blinked. “No way.” They hadn't exactly been trying. But, they hadn't not been trying.

   “Getting your Travolta fix?” Billy set a mug down and Camille blinked at him.

   “Ah, yeah.” She shot up. “I just remembered...I was supposed to hit the drug store. We’re out of...everything.”

   “Everything? I’ll drive you to the store.” Billy chuckled.

   “No, it’s just around the corner, I need the walk. Fresh air. No shrimp.” Camille skidding around him to toss clothing on their bed. Dressing in jeans and a tee. “Keep working. Need anything?”

   “I’d kill for a Milky Way.” He shrugged, plopping back into his seat. Camille was hopping around to put some shoes on. Sun from outside caught his face and she pressed her lips, kissing his cheek.

   “I’ll bring you something sweet.”

   Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Camille nearly jogged down the steps from the fourth floor. Grabbed a basket when she got to the mini-mart and tossed randoms items they needed in. Billy’s candy included. Stopped in a section that made her cold.

   Pregnancy tests.

   “Jeez.” She mulled over boxes before snatching one.

   Ignored the idle way the clerk peered at her stomach when he rang it up. Christ. California sun and wind swept against her body. Usually it set her at ease, but a ball of nerves sank into her stomach when she took the elevator back up. Billy was on the couch now, looking up as she tossed the candy into his lap.

   “You okay?”

   “Feeling sick again.” Camille half lied and went into the bathroom. Locked the door. Stared at the clear plastic curtain as she peed on a stick. Washed her hands and pulled at her watch. It ticked slower to spite her.

   “Camille?” Billy knocked. “Something’s up.”

   “Ah, just a second,” she paced, “give me just another second.”

   “Let me help.”

   “Oh, believe me...you did.” She sat on the side of the tub. Stared at the colored tiles. So many to count. Billy exhaled on the other side of the door. Didn’t leave. “Billy, I’ll be fine.” Her own tone shook.

   Did she want this?

   Were they ready?

   How was she going to feel if it’s nothing?

   How was she going to feel it it’s blue?

   Camille didn’t have time to think through each possible dream because reality spoke for her.

   Blue. Crystal clear sky.

   “Camille.” Billy jimmied the lock until the door popped open. She looked up in tears.

   “...Is that?”

   “Blue.” She breathed with one fist curled to her chest. Burst into tears. Unable to tell if they were happy or sad. She just needed to cry. Billy swept toward her.

   “Hey, hey. I got you.” Billy kissed her cheeks until she was soothed. Held her there while she clung to his shoulders.

   “It’s blue.”

   “What’s...that mean?” Billy met her eyes. “You’re...”

   “Blue.” Camille said again. Licking her lips before they pressed. “I’m pregnant.”

   “We’re having a baby?” Billy blinked at her. She waited for him to panic. But, he smiled. So bright that it made her burn with jealousy to be confused about it. “We’re having a baby!”

   Billy grabbed his wife. Held her close to him. Settled Camille just a little, she tried to feed off his glow.

   “Ninety nine percent accuracy. We need to, ah, go to a doctor first.” She let Billy pull her up. Out into the living room.

   Why was she riddled with confusion and anxiety while he bubbled with excitement? He danced her around to no music like a true romantic.

   “Let’s not...say anything until we go. I’ll make an appointment. After my meeting Monday?”

   “Yeah, yeah.” He swept hair aside and smiled again, so youthful. Kissed her there in the sun. Meanwhile, she felt life being sucked into a swirling pit. Billy tugged Camille into the couch, nestled her into his chest. “Are...Are you happy?”

   “I’m… Blue “...something.”

** ** **

   It was real. Confirmation at the doctor and life turned in on itself. People were careful with her. Work tried to withhold cases she’d fought for.

   She had a woman’s condition. They treated Camille like it was fatal.

   “Jim? Are you still there?”

   A thud on the other end was followed by scrambling.

   “Camille?” Joyce had the phone now. “Jim, get up.”

   Camille laughed that time.

   “Your father’s fine, just shocked. Oh, Jim, stop being dramatic!” Came some bickering.

   “I’m going to be a grandpa!” There was more laughter on their end.

   “Can you two stop kissing in my ear already?” Camille twirled the cord and stretched her legs out into Billy’s lap. Let him massage her ankles. “We wanted to know...if you guys would come down for the birth. Should be early November, I’m due.”

   Billy started counting something on his fingers, earning a soft kick.

   “Max and El already freaked. Letting them follow me to UCLA was such a mistake.” Camille joked. Mike and Lucas in Washington. Will and Dustin following Nancy and Jonathan to New York. Steve, Heather, and Robin living blissfully in Chicago. Rumor had it Regan and Kali turned up there too.

   “You’re listening to the doctors, right?” Jim turned stern. Such a dad.

   “You know it,” Camille brought the phone away, “Billy, you want to pass me a beer?” He just snorted.

   “Hey, none of that.” Jim was in her ear. “We’ll fly over now.”

   “No need. We’re fine. We’ll figure things out when it gets closer, yeah? Telling work was mortifying enough. But, we got the leave figured out. Arthur’s been such a help. Don’t worry about anything.” Camille sighed when Billy’s hands worked up her legs. Had to slap him out of her skirt.

   “Congrats, Camille! Billy, you tell Susan?” Joyce stole the phone.

   “We heard her crying from over here. Same with Grace. She and Elliott choked him near to death. Billy also tells me that Miss Mayfield was set up with a certain middle school teacher, how the hell did that happen?”

   “Mr. Clarke can be quite charming,” Joyce chirped and a groan erupted from Jim, “passes Susan’s little boutique on the drive to the school every day. Started stopping in. Flirting in his way. I couldn’t tell you.”

   “Glad Rosemary’s former team was willing to do us some favors and help her out with that.” Camille was still squirming away from Billy’s advances. His lips on her neck. “Well, I should go. But, any and all advice is wanted.”

   “She already tore through all the mommy books in the library. Ignore her.” Billy stole the phone. “Hops. Can I call you Pops now?”

   “If I can call you, dead.” Jim smiled when Joyce swatted his chest.

   “I expect you to spoil my kid.”

   “Will do. Make sure Camille takes it easy.”

   “Oh, I will.” Billy said goodbyes and pushed his hips into Camille’s, a sigh followed.

   “Hate you.” She settled her arms around his neck. A long kiss followed.

   “Valentine’s Day.”

   “Hm?” She went for his neck and jaw. Immersed in him.

   “By my count, we made her Valentine’s Day. Wonder if it was the car or the counter or the couch or the bed?”

   “I hate you...and it could have been the floor too.” She chuckled into his skin. Kissed him fiercely. The phone rang again. Billy reached over to snatch it.

   “Hargrove.” He let Camille paw at him. Twirling his hair about. Worshiping him with starry eyes. Billy’s own eyes opened and he pushed up with Camille still attached to him. “Why are you calling, I’ve told you-?”

   Camille let him go immediately. Saw the cold way he went rigid.

   “What?” Billy sounded breathless. “I...”

   “Billy?” Camille touched his face when his eyes welled.

   “Fine, just don’t call here again.” The phone slammed and he was up. Pacing. Rubbing his eyes.

   “Billy, who was that?” Camille hurried after him. Tried to tug at his arms but he slipped off.

   “Just...give me a second.” He didn’t make it into their room. Collapsed to the floor and covered his face.

   “Billy!” She gathered her husband into her chest. He just sobbed. “Billy, who was that?”

   “...Neil. He's been trying to call.”

   “You didn’t tell me that.”

   “I didn’t want to freak you out. I kept hanging up. I was terrified you’d pick up and he’d...” Billy sniffled. Clung to her. Cried more. Camille petted curls helplessly. Kissed blond hair and soft cheeks all better. “He’s sick.”

   “What?”

   “He’s dying. Cancer. Not the kind you get better from.” Billy lifted. “Don’t know why I’m crying about it, I’ll be glad he’s… He asked to see me. How can he fuck up my life and then just…?”

   Disappear.

   “Where is he?”

   “Colorado.” Billy wiped his eyes. “Fuck him.”

   “Do you...want to go?”

   Billy thought of Neil with his skin sunken and yellow. No longer handsome. Rasping at him from a mattress. Pissing himself. Dying alone in a cold bed like his father before him. He turned to Camille and cupped her stomach.

   “No, I don’t.” A long kiss into her abdomen. “I want to hold our baby. Take her to the park. Make her feel safe. I promise I’ll never...” He stopped. Blinked several times. I’ll never be like Neil. Nuzzled into Camille’s neck. “I love you.”

   “I love you too.” She let Billy’s broad body sink into her. Brought him to bed where they could wrap each other up. Feverish and dizzy until he pushed inside her. Melted their mouths. Gasped into her neck. Succumbed to the sweltering heat. He sought comfort and burrowed under her skin. Pushed fingers between thighs. Fucked her into the mattress while they reached peaks.

   Hours later, Camille heard Billy get up, thinking she’d fallen into slumber. Came to the door to listen.

   “Hey...” He said into the phone. Whispering. “No, you listen. I’m not… I don’t want to see you. I’ll just remember you healthy. Able enough to give hard lessons. I just...wanted to call and say Camille and I are having a baby… I think it’s a girl.”

   There was silence for a few beats.

   “We’re going to name her Sara and she won’t be learning hard lessons. She won’t be afraid of me like I...” Billy paused.

   Life flashed these vivid images of his childhood. His mother’s bracelet scattering across the pavement. That one moment Neil let him cling.

   “You ever think things could have been different for us, you know, after mom? I do. A lot. But, I can’t live in that… You beat the shit out of me. You hurt my wife. You hurt Susan and she’s still trying to move on. Max’s hair is all grown out and she won’t let anyone touch it. You won’t hurt my daughter. But, I’ll tell her about you. Tell her she had a grandfather who made bad choices and ended up…”

   “...Yeah, I think she’ll get the Hargrove jaw too.” Billy softened, lifted his eyes to the starlight beyond the window. Wondered if Neil was looking too. “I’ll tell her your name. Not much else. Hardest lesson I learned was realizing I’m not going to be like you. I’m sorry you wasted your life, I’m not going to. I’m going to be a good dad. I...just wanted to tell you that. That I'm in love still and I’m going to be a great father to my little girl. I’m going to keep her safe in this world. Goodbye, dad... We loved each other once.”

   Billy hung up. Curled into a ball to cry silently. Camille inched out until his head lifted. Arms came up to accept her there.

   “Shhh, I got you.” She tucked Billy’s head under her chin. “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be an amazing daddy. I’m so lucky you’re mine. We’re going to be okay.”

   “God, I’m supposed to be holding you.” He chuckled at himself and Camille beamed.

   “We’ve got each other.”

   Neil Hargrove died in his sleep late April of 1992. Alone in a cold bed.

** ** **

   Camille’s belly turned into a mini planet Billy couldn’t stop kissing. Dealt with some fiery stares when he made comments about her swelling breasts. It was true, tired all the same, she glowed. Billy fed her odd cravings. Made her feel as sexy as he could until she was climbing atop him. Riding him because she needed it now and bad. He liked that part.

   A million baby books later, Billy became an annoying infant factoid machine.

   "Did you know if-?"

   "Billy," Camille groaned into the couch, "I want Thai food again."

   "I swear to god, Camille, our kid is going to come out trying to order a pad see ew, extra spicy."

   "...Two orders please."

   Billy was weak. He ordered her three to last her.

   Elliott, now eleven years old, took to painting seashells and starfish along her belly when she was stuck on the couch. Billy’s excitement never stilled. Only illuminated. So willing to learn this all. They cleared spaced. Decorated a little nursery all under the sea themed. Camille was more riddled with anxiety. Always steadying her breath. Talking to the little life inside her. Constant gifts and advice from friends helped from time to time.

   “Billy!” Elliott jumped up when he came home. “Think I could work in movies like you?”

   Camille was giggling. Hard. Her shirt pulled over her stomach painted with the shark from Jaws.

   “Guess what we watched?”

   “It wasn’t even scary.” Elliott crossed his arms, ruffling waves of brunette hair. “That was kid stuff.”

   “Think so,” Billy swept him up, growling for effect. Baring teeth like a shark. Earned a giggle.

   “She cried again at a TV commercial.” Elliott whispered and Billy snickered.

   “I'm allowed to have emotions, you two. Roger is going to be here any minute.” Camille pushed up. “Who wants ice cream?”

   “Mint chip?” Elliott followed after her.

   “You know it, kid.” She braced one hand on her back and the other around his shoulders. Billy shook his head and dropped a bag on his desk. Water ran as Camille washed her belly off and Elliott pulled out a pint of ice cream with two spoons. “Your big brother doesn’t have our sophisticated taste in ice cream.”

   They shared a few bites over the counter. Camille groaned a little and pressed a spot on her stomach.

   “You’re doing that a lot, sissy.” The affectionate name he’d picked up when he was little never left. Camille felt a cramp well like a great wave.

   “Just my girl dancing around. Picking fights with my organs. She’s definitely going to be like her daddy. Want to feel?”

   Elliott smiled his toothiest grin and reached out. Let Camille press his hand to her side.

   “Spicy food and mint ice cream is all I want these days.”

   “My mom said she liked mac and cheese with tomatoes with me.” He gasped, feeling the baby. “She high-fived me!”

   “Billy kissed my stomach once and got a swift kick.” Camille snickered, scooping more ice cream to enjoy. Billy paced in, pecking her cheek before he stole a spoon and the strawberry pint in the freezer.

   “All mine.” He shrugged, eating. Camille hunched, moaning a few minutes later. “Camille, you sure you’re okay?”

   “It’s just minor...cramps. I’m fine. She’s not coming out for another two weeks.” Camille licked her spoon.

   “She’s been doing it all day. Like this...Oohh...” Elliott mirror a motion with his hand on his back and the other on his stomach. Billy raised his brow.

   “They’re far, far apart.” Camille turned to the ice cream and felt a pop. A gush of fluid like she’d peed herself. Billy’s spoon clattered.

   “Sissy?” Elliott took her hand because he was closest. “Cami, what’s happening?” Billy was at his wife’s side, holding her.

   “Her water broke.”

** ** **

   A million phone calls later and Camille was whimpering, pacing around a bed. Wobbling side to side. Bracing her hands to groan. She decided on a birthing center and midwife over a hospital. Place looked more like a hotel and had a hot tub for those births. Cozy space all for them.

   Billy held a lot of jokes back.

   “The baby book’s-”

   “Fuck the baby books!” Camille’s red face lifted. A demonic edge to her voice and even Billy backed up. “Photographic memory is worth shit!” He edged off. “Sorry, I’m...oh! I want drugs. I want my midwife! I want Thai food... It’s early!”

   “She’s on the way now. Jim and Joyce were on a plane an hour ago. Max is driving El here. Just breathe.”

   “Fuck my breathing!” She sounded truly possessed. Grabbing at Billy over the bed with some crazy burst of pregnancy strength. “I want drugs… What if she comes out hurt because it’s early. Or like me?”

   “She’s fine. Hey...” Billy pried her hand from his shirt and crossed around. “She’s going to be perfect.” He held her. Placed a kiss into hair. Camille’s face was blushed and beading with sweat. Limbs shook as she braced into the bed.

   “Camille!” A woman who could have bench pressed Billy hurried in. “Oh, poor girl. Keep breathing like I taught you.”

   “Ellen.” Camille winced. The girls were on a first name basis. Ellen was a former body builder and wrestler turned midwife. Lost some kids of her own and swore to help other girls keep their babies. “I can’t. I can’t.”

   “Might want to go get some ice chips, Bill.” She turned to him looking frantic and reeling it in. “Two cups.”

   “For her?”

   “For both of you. You’re in for a long night.”

   Billy scrambled. Passed the waiting room where Roger and Elliot sat for Grace and the rest of the family to arrive after driving the crying girl in.

   Hours of groaning and wailing. Women in other rooms joined in like a chorus of cries and soft birthing songs. Billy joked they were calling out to each other. Solidarity for the pain women were created to endure.

   “Camille, honey, you have to get up like this. Just like we practiced.”

   “I can’t,” she only moaned, shaking her head back and forth.

   “Daddy, she needs you. We’re almost there, I’ll be back in with assistance. She has to get into position.” Ellen continued, lighting a fire under Billy while he paced. The midwife jogged out into the hallway where more women vocalized together. Called out to ensure none felt alone in this.

   “Something’s wrong, she’s gonna come out like me.” The girl sounded delirious. Billy cupped Camille face, watched her eyes dart over his welling expression. “She’s gonna tear a part of me out and I can’t stop her.”

   “I want her to be like you.” Billy admitted.

   “Don’t say that.” A hand pulled for his shirt. Camille twitched with anger at him. “Don’t say that again!”

   “No, I hope she’s exactly like you and she’ll have parents who love her. We’ll teach her never to force a smile. That perfection is bullshit. I hope she’s like you, I have this entire time.”

   “The world’s going to swallow her.”

   “We won’t let that happen.” Billy smiled because he was so certain about that.

   “She’ll be in pain.”

   “And we’ll see her through that too. Pain happens. Means we're here sometimes. Means we're strong enough to fight through it and she won't be alone. You gotta get up, she needs you.”

   “Camille!” Another voice at the door.

   “Dad. Jim, you’re here.” She wheezed when Jim came to her with Joyce’s hand in his. Sprinkles of grey in his hair. Joyce pulled her brown locks back into a ponytail.

   “Hey, sweetheart, we’re all here for you.” She came around the bed. “Max and El want to come in, we got them to stay with the others. Just breathe, you’re almost there.”

   “How’re you holding up, punk?” Jim clapped Billy on the shoulder, earning a chuckle.

   “Just barely, Hops. Lots of ice chips.”

   “I swear by those, you might want more.”

   “She’s crushing my hand.” Billy lifted his near white palm. Camille’s digging fingers into his skin.

   “He did this to me,” Camille hissed. Another bout. Another groan that tore the room. Ellen was back at her side.

   “Camille, come up now, that’s my girl.”

   A growl ripped violently.

   Like a werewolf mid transformation.

   Camille huffed and got to her hands and knees. Thought to rip her flesh away and reveal fur and muscle hiding underneath. Teeth growing and sharp to stark points while her veins darkened.

   She could have torn through a forest. Howled at the moon. One last time.

   It glowed bright before her. Speckled with stars.

   She counted them to herself.

   “Hold on, here.” Ellen guided stirrups higher so she could grip them. Had her squatting on the bed. “Breathe.” The thin cotton of the gown was damp. Hanging from one shoulder. She growled and tore it open down the front. Veins pulsing and pushing. No drugs. Just a body built for agony. Miles of it. Nude and feral.

   Camille screamed at the moon this time. For gawking. Grabbed at Billy again while he helped brace her into position.

   She howled and other women howled back. A great echo into the unknown. Into the dark night. Wolves in a pack itching to run through wind and rustling trees. Feral bodies that were so often controlled by weaker beings. Free and shameless.

   Women were not always soft, they were hard edges of steel slicing skin to pieces. Teeth gnashing muscle and bone apart. Hot irons of a beating heart within a hollowed chest cavity. Camille led a brigade with her.

   “Big push now!” Came the command.

   Camille tossed her head back and roared. Succumbed to the flames and blood lust. Thought her bones would break and shift so she could become the beast. Bring the world to its knees.

   Ellen reached down, head lifting.

   “Camille, it’s time. Another big push for me.”

   Camille only braced herself. Bones chattering. Words echoed with encouragement from her family. From Billy as he held onto her. Ellen repeated herself from the right.

   “Ahhh!” Vocal cords vibrated and almost ripped apart. Teeth baring. A gasp when it reeled back. Sweat and blood dribbled down Camille’s quivering thighs.

   “Almost, sweetheart, almost. Keep pushing for us.”

   “I can’t, I can’t.” Came the chants. Jim thought to step forward as he watched her spine press out into skin, but Billy sprang into action.

   “You can do this.” He kissed her temple. “You can.”

   “I’m not ready, I can’t.” Camille cried so hard. Looked out at the sky.

   It was all blue.

   “Camille,” Billy murmured into her hair, “I love you. You can do this.”

   The stars glowed brighter beyond the window. She longed to reach out and catch one.

   “They’re singing to me.” She whispered more so to herself. Lips opening to howl and sing with them. The women echoing her calls. The stars waiting beyond the veil.

   She waited for fur to ripple her skin. For claws to grow long and sharp.

   “That’s it, Camille, push!” Ellen took one hand, guided it down to feel something warm and wet. Camille screamed and they helped her stay upright when something stronger and more youthful than her tore from a body built of steel and stardust. “Take your baby. She’s here. Cradle the head.”

   Camille was sobbing as she pulled a tiny mass to her bare chest. A fallen star she managed to grasp. It echoed her screams. More powerful and beet red. Slicked with blood and fluids.

   Unable to stay upright, she was guided back with Ellen and Billy’s help. Looked almost wild in the starlight. Bloodied and nude with her cub cradled close.

   The baby wailed over Camille until she quieted in a daze. It overcame her with so much ease. Felt like she was slipping into a warm bath. Endless pools. Unbothered by her nudity there in the wash of moon.

   “Look at her,” Billy gasped through tears. Kissed Camille’s cheek again. “I’m so proud of you, you did it. She’s beautiful.”

   She half expected him to say, my, my, what big eyes you have.

   “Congratulations, mommy and daddy.” Ellen was ushering her assistant around.

   Camille didn’t look down. Couldn’t. Not at this little pup that ripped from her. That howled with her at the moon. This beating heart she would nurture and teach to glow all neon and red. The baby felt its mother’s heart beating under her little head and made it her first lullaby. Camille felt for a moment, that she had no more life in her. No more fight to tear through the woods leading a pack of wailing women.

   “Let’s get her cleaned up.” Ellen pulled the whimpering infant away to tend to her. Camille sat sprawled there half naked with one leg hanging over the side. Her own fluids in a puddle beneath her. Warm and oddly comforting. Billy and the assistant worked to maneuver her into another mattress so the dirtied one could be rolled off.

   “Camille?” Billy cupped her face there against a plush pillow. Covered her body. “Hey.”

   “She’s just a little dazed.” Joyce was smoothing brown hair back. Hopper’s hand on her shoulder. “You did so good, honey.”

   Ellen pushed a peach bundle back into Camille’s arms without asking. Helped her cradle the head as she propped herself up into the pillows. Hazel eyes lowered to see her daughter at last.

   Bright, crystalline eyes. A full head of dark hair already. Blinking and still at her mother. Billy leaned into Camille’s shoulder with a tired grin. Fingers grazed his baby’s cheek. Lips lowered to feel the tufts of hair, to inhale the scent of new life. The urge to cry overshadowed her smile.

   “Sara Anne Hargrove, welcome to the world.” Billy said. “Halloween birthday, I’m jealous.” Glowing with vitality Camille didn’t feel as he spoke.

   She heard the other women crying out and mourned that she no longer had the strength to roar with them.

** ** **

   “She’s so tiny.” El glittered, cradling the baby with Jim’s help.

   “She makes that same squinty face Billy does, look.” Max joked. Both girls as tall as Camille. So grown up and out into this big world. Jim crossed to see Camille when Billy went into the hallway to sign some papers.

   “You okay, kid?” He tucked a strand of hair away. She stared beyond him at the moon.

   “I never asked you if it was okay. Her name.”

   “I think it’s perfect.” Jim smiled and Camille pressed her lips at him. “Joyce and I will stick around if that’s okay. Help you get situated.”

   “We’d appreciate that. Grace and Roger live a ways out.” Camille blinked, head back to see everyone fawning over the baby across the way.

   “You okay?” Jim felt a great distance pool within his kid.

   “I’m...” Blue. “A mother.”

** ** **

   Sara wouldn’t latch.

   It took extra help to get her to at the birthing center and Joyce assisted at home.

   “Give her a second.” Billy tried to help. Tried.

   “You want to do this?” Camille’s eyes snapped at him. He put his hands up in response.

   “I’ll start dinner.” He slunk away into the kitchen where Jim was. Max and El left because they had class the next day. Grace promised to come up as much as she could after kissing Billy a million times. Phone calls and cards poured.

   “Ah...” Camille wiggled in her seat. Perched on an extra pillow because everything below her waist was raw and padded. Her stomach went down slowly while her breasts ballooned. Sara suckled in her arms and Joyce only offered encouragement. “It hurts.”

   “They never tell you that in the books.” Joyce sighed. “Jonathan gave me all sorts of trouble too. You’ll get the hang of it.” Camille winced and settled her head back against the couch. Felt like she was just waiting for it to be over. Everyone gushed about this amazing connection they would share and here she was just floating.

   Maybe that was just something else to get the hang of.

** ** **

   Camille started to have dreams. Maternity leave only made her restless. She cried when Billy packed her files away into the closet. He’d gotten the first month to stay with her while she’d gotten three.

   And she wanted to go back.

   Billy didn’t dare ask why the urge to see these kids over her daughter quelled.

   So, Camille dreamed a lot on rare nights she got sleep.

   Barely ate.

   A white room with white sheets in a white bed. Camille in all white too. Doctors fussing as she bloodied the room with her mess. Her womanhood that was supposed to be kept in check. Sara crying. Screaming. Echoing.

   One doctor pulling his mask down. Smiling wider than a circus clown. Brenner.

   Camille tore up and screamed too until Billy started to shake her awake.

   Only one week in and she’s unraveling with dark circles and a broken in body.

   “Camille!” Billy just held her until she stopped.

   “No, no, I have to check on her.” She ripped away from him. Scrambled into the other room to hover over the crib. Sara sleeping soundly and undisturbed. A sigh.

   “Camille, come out, you’ll wake her.” Billy rubbed his eyes. She ignored him, felt around the window for a latch.

   “You left it unlocked.”

   “What?”

   “I told you to lock it last night.” Camille’s neck twisted with a heated expression. Eyes glinting like an animal.

   “She took awhile to sleep, I forgot,” he paused, “I’m sorry.”

   “They could come in and take her. In the dark. Just like that.” She seethed in a struggle to keep her voice low. Billy gently pulled her from the room and shut the door.

   “I’ll remember next time. Nothing can climb to the window.” He rubbed her shoulders. Only got pushed away as Camille checked the door. “Camille? Who...”

   “Brenner!” She burst and covered her mouth. “If she’s like me, they’ll come take her in the night. In the dark. They’ll take her away and make her a number. You'll die and I'll be rocking in some hospital.”

   “Brenner is dead. That won’t happen.” Billy realized her fears. Saw her eyes glimmer there. “That lab is dead, no one will come for her. She’s safe with us.” He sat her on the couch. Watched her quiver and hold herself. Head dropping. The baby monitor in their bedroom echoed a wheezy sound. “Come get back in bed, I got this one. You had her yesterday.” Billy sighed and tucked Camille in. Left.

   “Hey, you...some set of lungs you got.” Billy’s voice spoke through the haze of static. “There you go. I mastered the art of the diaper, I think I-no, no, don’t pee on, daddy. You weren’t done.”

   A giggle.

   “Yeah, I’m your daddy, Sara. Bet you have some freckles coming in. My mom says I had mine young too.”

   Camille pictured her husband at total peace. Seated in the rocking chair wagging his finger and smiling at their baby. Soothing her. It made her weep silently until she shoved a fistful of blankets into her mouth. Billy took to this life a duck to water.

   And she…

   She just fizzled and sunk. Dreamed of Brenner coming and Sara being torn away. Never knew what to say. What to do. Billy seemed to have it figured and that just made her feel behind and confused.

   “You are my sunshine...my only sunshine...” Billy sang and Camille covered her face. Blocked her ears because it was too much. He returned ten minutes later to hold her. Kissed her hair and uttered the sweetest I love you because he felt so fulfilled and lucky.

   Camille pretended to be asleep.

** ** **

   Breastfeeding hurt still.

   Second week. Camille never slept. Put on her brave face for family visits. But they saw it in her eyes. She sang to Sara and chatted with her. Changed her to perfection. Kissed her head. But, the connection. The emotions welled up like they were blocked in her throat.

   Her body healed and only felt lifeless. Like she was a puppet controlled by another. Strings twisted all along her limbs to make her flop along a stage. Little clumsy ballerina. Going through the motions. She only cringed when the baby cried.

   Sara needed her.

   And it made her shrink.

   She was mommy. Warm arms and shelter. A knowledge base that would mold their baby.

   That suffocated. Billy smiled and cooed and Camille looked away. He just seemed so happy. She felt wrong.

   Why didn’t that come for her too?

   “Camille, look, look.” Billy was lying on the couch, lifting Sara up as she giggled to no end. Little limbs flailing. She bubbled a raspberry and he chuckled.

   Camille stood there in the kitchen doorway and averted her eyes.

   “Come sit with us.” He pushed up, nestling Sara into his lap.

   “I’m going to ask if I can go back early. To work. They need me.”

   “Uh,” Billy tread carefully, standing, “it hasn't even been a month. We’re still figuring this out. Take the time. You earned it.”

   “I can work part time.” Camille said it without any emotion. Not blinking. Staring at his feet while Sara wiggling there into his chest and played with blond curls.

   “I don’t want to make this choice for you, but I think it’s a bad idea. We haven’t even figured out our hours when we go back. Babysitters. Camille, don’t push it-...why won’t you even look at her?”

   Billy said that without even thinking. Camille’s eyes glinted at him.

   “What?”

   “It’s like you want nothing to do with us anymore.”

   “That’s not true.”

   “Well, look at her then. Hold her. We made her and she’s perfect.”

   “Billy.” Camille backed up. Touched her palms to her ears. Didn’t know how to not hear this. “Stop it. I’m fine… Stop saying that word.”

   “Huh?”

   “Perfect, she doesn’t have to be-”

   “You know what I mean.” He eased. Camille vibrated there. Paranoid. Manic. Lost. Went around him and slammed a door. Sara jilted. Started to cry as he bounced her. “Hey, no, you’re fine. Mommy’s just upset. She’s tired. She’s just tired.”

   Camille slid down the door. Cried there because she scared her little girl. She made her baby cry. She was a bad mother. These thoughts chanted until she was covering her ears again. Got into bed and curled into the tiniest ball she could.

   Something strange happened as she shook and wept there. Her fist beating into her shoulder. Punishing herself for being bad until sleep crept. A bad mommy. Bad. Bad. Bad. The skin purpled with a bruise that next morning. Camille felt Billy stirring behind her.

   They slept apart.

   “Hey, I gotta go pick up some stuff. I’ll grab groceries.” He kissed her head. “Might be a few hours.”

   “Okay.” Camille rasped, eyes on the wall. On the rain trickling outside.

   “Camille, last night, I-”

   A whimper on cue from the monitor.

   “I got her. She’s hungry.” A robe pulled over her nightgown. Over the bruise. She couldn’t look at Billy as she left. Plucking Sara up, she went out to the couch to feed her. Her husband appeared dressed and eyed her carefully.

   “I’ll be back soon.” Billy reassured her. Hesitated at the door before he lifted his eyes. “Love you.”

   “...Love you.” Camille said quieter. Let the TV drone. Billy locked the door and didn’t make it to his Camaro. Instead pushed coins into a payphone.

   “Yeah? Hello?” A tired voice answered from a hotel room.

   “Jim.” Billy swallowed. “Hey, I...”

   “You alright, Billy?”

   “It’s Camille. I don’t...” Billy paused. “I’m headed out to run some errands. Can you come over? Sit with her a bit. I left the key under the mat.”

   “Billy, is everything okay?”

   A pause. Billy didn’t know how to tell Jim what he saw. But, Camille always responded to Jim’s love. She needed it right now. Billy felt useless.

   “I don’t know.” See for yourself.

   He hung up and got into his car. Wiped his eyes before he pulled out.

** ** **

   “Come on, we can do this.” Camille groaned. One breast out to feed the baby. “Please.” Sara wiggled in protest. She looked up at her mother. Smiled.

   Camille shattered.

   “Don’t do that.” She quivered.

   Don’t look at me with undying trust and love.

   Don’t look at me like I'm all you got because I’m failing you.

   “I’m sorry.” Camille offered at last. Felt like she’d been holding that in since she saw the strip turn blue. “I’m sorry, I can’t...I’m a bad mommy and I’m so sorry.” Tears hit Sara’s cheeks and blanket. A baby blanket Grace knitted with the baby’s name in it. Pale lavender. Camille sobbed and held her. “I don’t know why I feel like this and I’m so sorry.”

   She couldn’t stop. The baby just cooed at her. Grabbed for long locks of brown hair.

   Don’t cry, mommy.

   That was how Jim found them.

   Camille drained of life and sobbing over the baby she felt she'd let down. Skin discolored and bruised. Clothing loose and crumpled. One of her breasts out. Hyperventilating. Vibrating. Sara still contented in her arms. Looking around in wonder.

   “Camille, sweetheart,” Jim crossed and she hitched to breathe. Offered the baby to him. Desperate.

   “Take her. Take her away from me. I can’t. I can’t do this. I’m not right. I can’t keep her safe from men in suits with red ties. I'll just hurt her too. I’m a bad mother. I’m not...I don’t feel...” Camille shook and Jim took the bundle. “I can’t look at her because I can’t do this. I’m awful. I’m a horrible mother. I’m sorry!”

   Skin paled and eyes huge, Camille crushed in on herself.

   Hands covered her face. Crossed legs lifting so she could curl up again there.

   “Camille...” Jim eased. Realized how unwell she’d been. Clearly not sleeping or eating in the short time they’d been home. “She’s okay, Camille. You’re doing okay.”

   “I’m not, I’m not. She’ll be like me and they’ll take her away. They’ll stage a car accident or fry our brains and she’ll be out there and all alone. I made her cry, I didn’t mean to.” She kept thinking about Rosemary and Noah brushing her aside. Lying to her. Keeping her in a cage.

   “That won’t happen, no matter what she becomes.” Jim faced her, cradling the tiny baby against him. “Deep breath.” He managed to fix her nightgown back up with a free hand. “Hey, look at her, it’s okay. She's safe.”

   Camille wiped her eyes and stared at the floor.

   “Has it been like this since you got home?” He frowned. “We...We didn’t-”

   “It just feels all wrong, Jim. I don’t understand.” That raw voice squeaked. He brought her against him with his arm. Holding Sara there too.

   “She’s healthy and beautiful. And she’s happy. You did that.” Jim offered. Camille’s fingers dug into his jacket. “You’re not well. I’ve seen this before with my own family. We’re going to get you some help, okay? You need help and that’s okay.”

   Camille only nodded. One shaken hand reached out to touch her daughter. Finger running the curve of her little chin.

   “When’s Billy getting home?”

   “Couple hours tops.” She sniffled.

   “I want you to go lie down.”

   “She hasn’t eaten.” Camille persisted, head lifting.

   “We’ll try again in a bit. I’m going to make you something to eat and I want you to just close your eyes. I’ll take care of the baby.” Jim stood, ushering her with him. “Get into bed.”

   “What about Billy?” Camille let Jim cover her. “He...He seemed...”

   “I’ll explain it to him. Just rest.” Jim settled Sara into her crib. Turned the mobile on. He made some plain toast and got Camille to sit up and each both pieces. Brushed crumbs off her face. Tucked her into a warm bed.

   Then, he called Joyce.

** ** **

   Billy came home with his arms full of bags. Stopped there at the scene. Joyce playing with Sara on the couch. Jim just walked out of the kitchen.

   “Where’s Camille?” He dropped the groceries aside. Jim put a slow hand on his shoulder.

   “I got her fed and to sleep. We managed to help her feed Sara after the first hour...” Jim sighed. “Billy, Camille’s...”

   “I don’t know what’s happening to her. She doesn’t want to be around Sara or I.”

   “What’s happening to Camille is common. Happens to mothers everywhere. She needs to go talk to someone about it.” Jim cocked his head and helped the new father put his items away while Joyce stayed on the couch. “Postpartum depression. You read about that?”

   “Some in the baby books. Not much.”

   “Camille is feeling very...”

   “Blue.” Billy’s eyes went distant. He sucked his cheeks in. Set his jaw to sigh. “I ignored it. I got mad at her for...”

   “It’s not either of your faults. It happens. Camille has to go talk to someone before she hurts herself. She needs support. It’ll be okay. I promise.” That somehow relaxed Billy. Jim always knew what to do. What to say.

   “I hope,” Billy began, “I can be a dad like you.”

   Hopper smiled at that. Beamed and hugged Billy to his chest. The new daddy paced to see his baby on the couch.

   “She behaving for you?”

   “That she is.” Joyce smiled. “We got her. Camille’s in the bedroom.”

   “Thanks.” Billy kissed Sara’s head and went in. Clicking the door open. Camille stirred. Head lifting when he got behind her. “Hey.”

   “Hi.” She stiffened up as he brought her to his chest. “Jim tell you?”

   “Yeah.” Billy’s chin settled upon her crown.

   “I’m sorry.”

   “Don’t apologize, we’ll get through it. You, Sara, and I. We’re a team. Little pack of wolves.” Billy kissed her head. Let her finally breath him in and cling as she turned to burrow into his chest. “You two are everything to me. Nothing else is as important as us.”

   “I love you. I love her. I do.”

   “I know you do. And we love you. We’ll get you help, Camille. It’s okay.” Billy cuddled her closer. Thought of Hopper. “I promise.”

** ** **

   Camille woke before Billy that next morning. Went to feed Sara. Jim and Joyce left after another long talk with Billy when Camille fell back asleep.

   “Okay, Sara, it’s just you and me. We can do this.” She adjusted and sat in the rocking chair. Cupped her breast to offer it. Pain stung a little but… “There we go. Good girl. Yes.”

   Camille felt herself smile this morning. Billy made an appoint for her. She would be taking the full maternity leave.

   Sara wiggled and burped up as Camille bounced her. Hummed Billy’s song to her and flicked the mobile around. Her husband hadn’t emerged yet so she went into the kitchen. Made a turkey and cheese sandwich. Sliced it diagonally and fell into the couch to watch some TV. Billy stumbled in and stood there with bed head. Beautiful beyond belief.

   “Morning.”

   “Morning.” Camille took half the sandwich and offered the plate to him. Billy brightened. Sat next to her. They shared the food in silence. Watched TV until she got under his arm. Rain padded against the windows. Sounded peaceful. “Do you think she’ll like surfing or ballet?”

   Eyes flickered over his wife as she engaged herself at last. With ease.

   “I think she’ll be into pro wrestling.” Billy smiled fuller. Camille let herself feel it, pushing at his chest before she laughed. Still a pretty sound. Inhaled the scent of him before he brought her hand up to kiss the tender skin of her wrist.

   “She’s gonna do whatever she wants to do, I think.” Camille said then, kissing up his jaw to find soft lips. “And we’ll be there to support her... We’ll always be there, won’t we?”

   “We will and that’s enough. I promise.” Billy tucked hair aside for a feverish kiss, nuzzled down into her neck to murmur. “You doing alright?”

   Camille saw his lashes flutter. Traced her fingers over the freckles and thought about how she couldn’t wait to see them bloom like fresh petals upon their daughter.

   “Today? Yeah. I think so. We’ve got each other.” She breathed, pressing lips into wild curls. They held each other while the rain fell lighter. Realized Billy was right. Echoed his call. “That’s enough.”

   Sara roused for her parents. Squirmed as Camille picked her up to bring her into the living room so they could gush and admire her. Neon hearts that glowed brighter by the hour. Her lullaby and sunrise all at once.

   “I love you both,” Billy nudged his head into Camille’s temple, “so much. You know that?”

   “You’re a magnificent father. We're lucky, Sara and I.” Camille’s lips pressed and the curves of her expression blurred. Billy blinked several times. A smile pressed. She let Sara giggle in her lap and held one finger with a strong, little hand. Babbling some until Camille was laughing to encourage it. “She’s all blush and tangerine today.” Not blue.

   “She’s beautiful,” Billy sighed there with so much contentment as Camille let herself relax. “And she’s just like her mother.”

   Hazel eyes lifted to see him. Amazed by this wonder of a life they created. A miracle. Like a specific star they’d plucked down to cherish and nurture.

   “She’ll be messy and also so kind. Good. Angry when she needs to be. She’ll cry and not be shamed for it. Our baby will be shown so much love, the world couldn’t hope to swallow her.” Camille smiled again. Softer by the hour as she gazed at Sara there. “The best parts of us. Our love. Into one gorgeous creature. She’s us, Billy.”

   That hit the new mother hard. Made her voice quiver.

   "She's us."

   Camille felt a glimmer of it then as she understood it all. That connection threading red cords around her heart. Casting out to anchor others so close. Billy saw it resonate and felt it too. Held them both on the sofa as they curled up like a family. Their own pack. Camille would teach Sara to howl at the moon and tear through forests. To endure and pull herself back to her feet at every stumble. To lead and love as hard as she could. Like she was meant to.

   Billy only glittered at her. Camille’s burst of vitality and hope. They had each other and they would get through whatever would follow the horizon.

   “And it’s enough,” he repeated in peace, “I promise.”

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove fanfiction #Billy Hargrove imagine #Billyhargroveedit #MINE #Camille Harper #writing #Stranger things #Stranger things fanfiction