#they meet eyes and Billy is red faced and bashful still when he says ‘yeah Harrington… so please let me make you something to eat. even just

[cockasinthebird]

There’s a lot of things that Billy Hargrove loves about 4th of July. How loud the fireworks are, the chance to set something on fire without reprimand, barbecue food that reminds him of beach parties back home, beer just tastes better for some reason, the summer heat, and how scantily clad everyone is.

Guys with their exposed muscles, girls in their tiny bikinis.

Billy walks through the far too inebriated crowd spread out across the quarry, a beer in hand that is quickly warming up in his sweaty grasp, seemingly aimless in the way he looks at everyone who greets him all excited, then clearly disappointed that he didn’t stop to talk past pleasantries.

No, Billy is on a hunt; a hungry wolf looking for one specific lamb, no other temptations can match the urge for one pretty boy’s attention.

And he finds Steve Harrington, dressed in shorts too revealing and a top that ends just by his navel, leaning against the hood of someone’s car. Three girls in short skirts and bikini tops standing awfully close to him, listening intently - or at least pretending to - as he smiles all friendly and gestures with his red plastic cup to really emphasise whatever he’s saying.

Envy isn’t a thing Billy experiences, nah, definitely not, he reminds himself as he takes too big a gulp of his beer, yet it stirs sourly in the sudden pit of his stomach. They’re not dating, so he has no right to feel jealous about anything going on in front of him currently.

Yet when Steve leans in to whisper in one girl’s ear, causing her to giggle excessively and bash her eyes at him, Billy’s heart beats all wrong, fingers tightening around the neck of his bottle. It triggers that good old fight instinct in him, the one that used to make him throw fists with Steve before that handsome brunette dared kiss him.

Nothing’s been the same since- fucking Harrington; Billy was perfectly fine before that, completely, and now? Now he can’t stop thinking about their first time. Their second time. Their third. Fourth.

And what their fifth time might be like. Not that he’s keeping count, of course. Not that he’s anticipating it. Or thinking about it. Dreaming about it. Hoping…

Like a magnet to metal, Steve turns his head and his eyes lock right onto Billy’s, looking drunk but aware of how he’s being leered at. Something in his hooded gaze tells more than it should, like a confession to curiosity, answering questions that haven't yet been asked. At least not in so many words.

Billy takes a long swig of his beer, emptying the bottle and throwing it off to the side, then lets his eyes wander down - far enough for there to be absolutely no doubt what he’s thinking about, and from the way Steve smiles next only shows, “Message received.”

When Steve kicks off of the hood and moves to walk away from his little fangroup, one of the girls grabs on to his arm, with pleading eyes and a slight pout she says something Billy can’t hear, pressing her arms together to accentuate her tits, and Billy honestly can’t blame Steve for looking down at the inviting, soft flesh for a few seconds too many, before making up an excuse that sets him free.

The disappointment on all their faces feeds Billy’s narcissism immensely, and it shows in the grin that cracks across his face. Ah to know that he’s the first choice of princess Stevie’s desire, it washes away all that doubtful jealousy with warm waves of aroused excitement.

Steve stumbles just a slight bit as he approaches Billy, inebriated and smiling. “Hey Hargrove, got a smoke?”

Billy teases with his tongue out, biting down on it with shiny teeth, and oh the thrill when Steve’s eyes dart down to watch Billy wet his lips and appetite. 

“Sure I do,” he says with the most suggestive grin. “But not here, otherwise everyone else will want to bum a smoke, too.”

Not an actual concern, but a plausible excuse to get Steve alone.

Twigs bend and snap under Billy’s heavy footfall, and perhaps he didn’t think this through, walking in the forest in flip flops. Every time he turns to look behind, Steve’s still there, following with his eyes cast down to calculate every step before taking it, brows knit and eyes squinting in concentration.

The music is still audible at this distance, but all the lights from cars and bonfires have been obscured by trees.

Billy can’t imagine anyone bothered following them all the way out here, and since he can only hear the faint pop music and Steve stumbling near, decides that, yeah, this is far enough. 

Steve goes to slump against a tree, looking at Billy who fishes up a pack of cigs. “I didn’t actually follow you out here to smoke.”

“Oh really?” Billy chuckles deep and shoves the pack back into the pocket of his swimming trunks. “Just thought it’d be more courteous of me to offer you some anyways, but-”

One finger hooks itself on those red trunks and drags Billy closer till he lands close against Steve’s heated body.

“Eager, huh? Ah-” Billy hisses as Steve grinds their hips together, proving that he’s already sporting more than half a chub.

“I’ve been thinking about you for hours,” Steve admits with a slight slur, fingers working at the drawstrings of those red shorts. “Just waiting for you to show up, always fashionably late, wanna make sure everyone sees you, right?”

“Nothin’ wrong with liking being noticed,” Billy drawls with his nose pressed against Steve’s cheek, pursing his lips just enough to offer up light, almost chaste, kisses. “I’m more than worthy of the attention, don’t you think?”

“I do,” a whisper, and Steve turns his head to meet those gentle lips, just to then feel the breath of a moan graze his sweaty skin as he wraps his fingers around Billy’s girthy cock.

It teeters on the edge of uncomfortable, how stern a grasp Steve holds on his dick, the awkward movement of a clammy hand, but Billy grows hard quickly nevertheless, leaving him cursing and groaning.

“Fuck baby, ah-h…”

Steve smiles all too self-satisfied for doing such a half assed job.

With both arms extended above each of Steve’s shoulders, Billy braces himself against the tree, and when they kiss again - tongues dancing to the distant rhythm - he can taste absolutely every single sip of alcohol Steve’s had tonight, and Billy’s convinced it makes his own head spin a little.

“I want you so bad, Billy,” Steve whines all horny and pathetic into the embrace of their lips.

“Then turn around,” Billy’s voice is rough, demanding, confident, and he takes a step back to free up some space between them.

Steve lets out a shuddering breath at the chilling air between where their sweaty bodies had been connected, then swivels on his heels till his palms land firmly against rough bark. He pushes out his ass, serving it up on a silver platter, gazing over his shoulder to catch how Billy’s smiling all wicked and wild.

Billy runs his hand down the exposed bit of Steve’s back, where his crop top and shorts can’t reach, skin warm and soft and slightly damp from the summer heat. He dips a couple of fingers beneath the elastic waistband.

“Dressed a bit like a slut tonight, pretty boy,” he hums pleasantly and pulls at the shorts, just to let go and have it snap back, loudly.

An oddly delighted gasp escapes Steve. “Just for you.”

Billy’s hand had wandered down to caress a soft cheek, going further down to tease the skin just beneath the leg of the shorts.

“You really that needy and desperate for my attention?” His lips part in a grin, exposing sharp teeth that he licks across; a little predatory show that Steve absolutely notices.

“That’s not all I’m desperate for.”

Steve stretches out his arms proper and pushes himself against where Billy’s cock is rock hard, eliciting a groan followed by two hands grabbing all too hard onto Steve’s hips.

With his grasp bruising, Billy keeps Steve still as he ruts himself against the plush of Steve’s ass, both of them moaning as he slips and slides his full erection in the crevice between cheeks.

“Ah- Billy- please please please, I need more,” Steve whines with his head hanging low.

Billy chuckles, like rolling thunder in his chest, as he leans forward to bury his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, one hand slipping around and down to cup at Steve’s aching prick. He strokes it through the shorts, following the entire length up and down, Steve whimpering and panting and thrusting for more, as a wet spot forms by the head.

“God, you’re so wet and hard for me, baby,” Billy drawls, biting, kissing, sucking his way up Steve’s neck, marking him with his attention; make everyone know.

Thumbs hook themselves on the waistband to pull down the shorts just past the curve of supple cheeks, keeping his weeping dick trapped still.

“No underwear?” He brings his tongue to lick a sloppy line up Steve’s neck, nosing at the back of his ear, then breathes out hot, “Such a whore.”

Steve inhales as if to speak, to respond, but unadulterated lust occupies his mind like a thick fog, and all that comes out is a slight, erotic, “Fuck.”

And Billy brings his hand up to those pretty pink lips, pushing his way in without invitation, just to feel Steve’s tongue eagerly wrap itself around the two digits, letting Billy roam free in the wet heat till his fingers are dripping, spit running down his palm and wrist. Steve’s always so sloppy and obscene and greedy, which is what Billy loves about him.

He brings those slick fingers between them, down to circle around Steve’s rim, teasing with the tip applying just enough pressure for it to be agonizingly inadequate, making Steve whimper as he tries to move his hips in hopes of more.

Billy’s not a bad guy per se, at least not towards Steve anymore, so he gives his princess what he’s begging for and slips in a finger, smooth and easy, as deep as it goes, and he can feel how Steve trembles with delight. Relentlessly so, Billy pulls the finger almost all the way out, before plunging it back in again - setting a quick pace, but Steve’s hungry.

“Ah-h, more, Billy,” he moans with his head thrown back, mouth wide open to allow out every single lascivious little sound he has in him.

“Ssshh,” Billy hushes where he’s quick to lean in to whisper in Steve’s ear, “Be quiet and I’ll give you what you want. Can’t have people hear you and come looking for us.”

“What’s the matter, hmm? Ah- afraid of getting caught with your pants down?” Steve laughs but in a low manner, ultimately proving he’s following orders.

And truth be told yes, Billy is afraid to get caught like this with another guy, but that just makes this all the more thrilling. So without words and choosing actions instead, he with his one free hand covers Steve’s wide open mouth before pushing a second finger into his soft hole.

Thankfully so, for the way Steve moans in utter glee vibrates against the palm of Billy’s hand.

“God you need it so bad, huh princess? Need my cock in you?” his voice thick with wanton and self-restraint.

Steve mumbles out in agreement.

It doesn’t take long before he adds a third finger, and there’s an immediate ecstatic response from Steve, who suddenly can’t help himself as he reaches behind to grab Billy by the wrist and tries to push him in deeper.

“Such an impatient little slut tonight,” Billy barks out in laughter and curls his fingers. He can feel every single muscle twitch and tremble at it, and the way Steve keens makes his own hard prick throb with desire.

“Mmh, ah- please, Billy, fuck me,” Steve tears his mouth free from Billy’s grasp, lips wet with drool.

“Lucky for you I brought lube and a condom with your name on it,” Billy snickers as he reaches into his own back pocket for the small packs, when Steve complains,

“N-no, no condom, please,” he pleads all pathetic, twisting around till their eyes meet through the darkness. “I want to feel you inside of me, nothing between us.”

Billy doesn’t have to think twice about that. The condom was a nice courtesy on his behalf, so that Steve wouldn't have to walk around with cum dripping down his thighs, but if he wants it so bad…

With one hand he undoes the drawstrings of his shorts, with the other he holds the little silver pack of lube up to his teeth as he tears it open. The liquid is warm from the summer heat as he pours it on his steely cock, moaning as he strokes himself a few good times to cover up properly before lining up with Steve’s eager entrance.

“Yes, ohh,” spills from Steve’s open lips as Billy enters him; the fat, blunt head stretching him out nice and wide.

And Billy keeps pushing in, inch by inch till they’re flush together, Steve sandwiched between Billy’s broad frame and the tree where his nails dig into the bark.

“You got such a nice, tight ass, pretty boy. So perfect for my cock,” Billy growls into Steve’s ear, teeth scraping against the shell of it as he stands as close as he can get.

Steve doesn’t have command of his own words at this moment, he can barely even hum out in agreeance as he’s overcome with blinding lust.

Slowly at first Billy pulls out before sliding in in one smooth movement, out again and in as he carefully increases the pace to the rhythm of Steve’s moans. He’s starting to learn the pattern of the sounds Steve makes when he’s getting thoroughly fucked. A certain whine when he needs more, harder, faster. A deep, guttural groan when it’s all just perfect. A string of high pitched curses whenever Billy rams into his prostate. 

And the way Steve clenches tighter than any pussy Billy’s ever had whenever he’s close is almost gorgeous in a sense. With his eyes closed and forehead pressed against Steve’s shoulder, Billy thrusts into that indescribable heat, feeling how every muscle needs his cock, milking and massaging him, urging him deeper and deeper.

“Arrh fuck, feel so good.” He grabs on to Steve’s hips with both hands, pounding into him with ardent fervor, leaving poor Steve with the responsibility of covering up his own mouth.

Blame it on the liquor or Billy’s expert fucking, if he do say so himself, no matter which it has Steve cumming in near record time with an obscene, loud whine as he bites into his hand in an attemp to fight back his impulse to be heard.

It feels like magic, the way Steve’s climaxing body sucks Billy in, every single muscle convulsing around him.

“Yes, god, just like that, oh Steve I’m so close,” he groans out, strong and throaty, slamming in harder to get what he needs now that Steve has gotten his.

He leans back, one hand on Steve’s shoulder, pushing him against the tree as he pounds as hard as he can, staring down at where his girthy cock gets swallowed so eagerly, grinning at the oh so satisfying sound of skin slapping together almost violently so.

“Ahh fuck, Billy,” Steve whines, somewhat euphoric, somewhat sore, all together enjoying being used so easily.

“That’s right, bitch, say my name.”

“Billy!”

“Yes.”

“Billy-”

“Shit, yes, arh--” 

He cums with what feels like an explosion of ecstasy in his groin, radiating out and up his spine to flourish in his chest as he fills Steve up with every last bit of energy that he has in him; a pulsating, slick heat that he buries himself in to the base of his throbbing cock.

But he doesn’t linger. As soon as they’ve both caught their breath he pulls out, well satisfied with his work as he slaps Steve’s ass lightly with his tongue out between teeth, chuckling at the little yelp that comes with it.

“Jesus, Harrington, that was fucking good,” he says as he puts himself away again in his swimming trunks.

Truth be told he wants to stay. Hell, he even wants to cuddle a bit, but it’s too soon to tell if Steve wants the same. No matter the answer, Billy isn’t sure he wants to know. Instead of thinking too long about what could be, he fishes up a cigarette and lights it quickly so that the smoke may fill the emptiness inside.

Steve’s a whole mess still. Basking in the afterglow, slow to pull up his shorts and turn around, just to steal the cigarette from between Billy’s lips and taking a drag himself.

“Really good, yeah,” he breathes out in sweet relief, then dares to ask, “What now?”

Like it’s a fucking invitation for more. To open up. To tell the truth. Every possibility flies through Billy’s mind all at once, but he plays it safe,

“I could use a drink.”

#Harringrove #lemon #Also on AO3 #my writing

[mediocre--writing]

there’s a blanket at the harrington house. it’s a bright red, matted, too short for any person to actually sleep under without their calves and feet hanging out.

despite its age and so the matting, it’s the softest blanket in the house. but it sits in the linen closet at the end of the upstairs hallway under the other unused blankets that only ever get pulled out when a bad snow storm knocks out electricity or something.

something like billy hargrove running from his house in the middle of a blizzard. literally running. like through the snow. with only a jean jacket to guard him from the wind and cold.

it’s winter break and tensions have been rising in the hargrove-mayfield house and nobody has been allowed to leave, “family bonding” or some shit.

but family bonding never worked when you’re forced to sit in a room and pretend to care about the people you’re with.

billy cared for max and tried to have an opening in his heart for susan, but, damn, if his dad don’t make him want to slam his head into a concrete slab.

so he was trudging his way to loch nora, which, surprisingly, was only a mile or so through the woods and down a few neighborhood roads.

with the cold, however, it feels more like trudging across the continent of antarctica blindfolded. billy’s pretty sure he got turned around once or twice, but once he saw the massive harrington house, he knew he had made it.

his small victory was diminished when, much to his disappointment, all the lights were off. and there were no cars in the driveway.

and it was then that billy remembered what his last conversation with steve was about:

“i’m flying out this thursday to meet my folks in florida. they bought me a ticket so we can spend christmas on the beach together,”

and he was so excited about it too! how could billy have forgotten? well, maybe he forgot when he was trying to expel all thoughts of steve out of his head because he didn’t want to develop ‘feelings’ since they were ‘just sleeping together.’

(too late, shitbrains, you’ve been head over heels in love with steve since the day you met him!)

but billy doesn’t want to go home. and he has, literally, no other friends, and wouldn’t dare going back to his caustic household, so he fumbles around in the dirt of a potted plant next to the door, grabbing for the little plastic bag that held a spare key to the front door.

walking inside it was like a heatwave came over billy, and he could feel the tingling in his fingers when they began to thaw.

he shedded his thin jacket in favor of getting rid of the wet slush sticking to it and walked to the thermostat, cranking it up high as it could go, just for a little bit, until he was warm.

in the mean time, billy looked around the house, most of which he didn’t see much of, since it was mainly just him and steve in steve’s bedroom.

the kitchen was big, the fridge was full, and so was the pantry; billy would have to cook something for himself later.

around the ground floor, there was an extra bedroom that looked untouched and it’s drawers were empty, aside from a few filled with old pictures (which billy would definitely look through later).

there was a closet and another door that led to the basement, but there was a chill just standing at the door and billy didn’t care for that. the master suite was at the back of the house, but billy felt kinda weird going into steve’s parent’s stuff.

going upstairs, billy passed the first door on his right, steve’s room, which he had been inside enough to know like the back of his hand. beside that, there was another guest bedroom and a large bathroom.

at the end of the hallway, however, there was a small closet, and when billy opened it, there were blankets. everywhere.

there were fuzzy ones and more decorative ones. ones with patterns and ones with fringe. ones that looked handknitted and others that still had the tag on them.

at the bottom of the closet, there sat a red blanket. matted with love over the years but softer than any of the other blankets.

lifting the blanket up, billy could smell steve on it. his cologne or hair products, maybe a mix of the two. it was familiar.

the smell was calming. billy felt at home.

so he grabbed the soft red blanket and grabbed another white one (it really was fucking cold) and made his way into steve’s bedroom.

he noticed how clean the room was, assumed steve must have straightened it up before he left, maybe in the far hope that his parents would fly back with him.

but billy dug under the tucked in comforter and sheets, laying the red blanket as the bottom layer and throwing the white one on top, cuddling himself in as he rubbed his face on the pillow (which also smelled just like steve).

the scratches and bruises on his arms and cheeks didn’t even ache as he got cuddly and warm, almost disappeared as his mind was filled with the thoughts of being so comforted by steve, when steve wasn’t even there.

billy woke that morning to the small red blanket twisted around his torso, the other blankets still covering the rest of his body. it was one of the, if not the, best sleep he’d ever had without having steve directly next to him.

it was the power of the soft, small red blanket and the magical relaxation steve’s room had on him, lulling him into a true comfort.

pulling himself away from the warm cocoon of blankets, the red blanket still draped across his shoulders, billy looked out the window where you could see the back patio and pool, all layered with snow as a few flurries still came down.

it was soft, peaceful, and billy felt like he could fall asleep standing up watching the snow, even with the rough material of his jeans still rubbing at his legs.

that is, until the phone rang.

billy’s eyes immediately darted over to steve’s bedside table where the phone and answering machine were blinking.

billy, cautiously, picked up the phone and answered:

“harrington household,”

“excuse me!?”

it was steve. steve was on the other line. billy’s mouth opened like a fish and he looked around the room, as if that would actually give him something to say.

“hello!” steve spoke again, “who are you?”

“... it’s billy,”

“why are you in my house?”

“why did you call your house if you knew nobody was here?”

“i was going to leave a reminder on the answering machine for when i got home,” steve said quickly, “now why are you in my house?”

“there was a blizzard,” billy mumbled.

“ok? but why are you in my house? i told you i wasn’t going to be back until tuesday,”

“i—i, uh,” billy felt like a scolded child being reprimanded by a parent. “my house—i didn’t want to be there,”

“why?”

steve, for as much as he acted like it, was far from oblivious. he knew about something going on with billy and his father, anyone could tell if they bothered to look, most just chose not to look. steve, honestly, just wanted to see if billy would admit it.

“stress, you know, around the holidays,” billy chuckled, giving the most vague reason and attempting to brush it off.

“so you went to my house?”

“i forgot you weren’t here and i know where you keep the key—“

“you know where the key is!?”

“so i let myself in. i didn’t do anything, just took a few blankets from the closet and slept in your room, promise. i didn’t do anything bad or, or weird,”

“i believe you,” there was a lull of silence. billy felt holding growing restless and steve head was pinging with questions. “with blankets did you take?”

“uhhhh... just a white one and a soft red one,”

“the red one at the bottom of the closet? it’s kinda matted and a bit short?”

billy mumbled a ‘yeah’ and steve grinned from the other side of the line, “that’s the one i always sleep with when it gets super cold, too,”

billy smiled at steve’s confession and wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders, taking a deep breath, inhaling steve’s smell.

“well, i’ll leave now,”

“no!”

billy’s eyebrows furrowed at steve’s exclamation. “no?”

“i mean, nobody is there, so i guess it didn’t really matter if you stay there for a bit, right? plus, with the blizzard and everything, you probably shouldn’t be driving,”

“i walked,”

“what?”

“i didn’t drive, i walked,”

“i’ll yell at you for that later,” steve said as if he needed a reminder, “anyway, you’re welcome to stay for the next few days, billy,”

“thank you,” billy sounded bashful. like he was embarrassed to be caught but grateful nonetheless.

“of course. now don’t pick up the phone when i call again because i need to leave a message on the machine,”

“ok, pretty boy,”

and while billy was content with living in steve’s room for a while, living in his smell and in his space, steve couldn’t wait to sleep with the soft red blanket once billy left.

it would smell like billy’s cologne in no time.

#i had to look up when answering machines became popular #1984 #so it’s accurate #stranger things #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #mediocre—writing #mw harringrove

[bellakitse]

We begin on a Tuesday

When the 126 have a spot to fill in their crew, Judd recommends his buddy Carlos Reyes from the 121.

*

Firefighter Carlos AU!

30 days of Tarlos - Day 16 

Part 1 of a 3 part series 

TK meets Carlos Reyes on a Tuesday. He studies him quietly from across the table between them as his father interviews the good-looking firefighter for a recently open position in their team. He and his father have been in Austin for almost eight months now, and in that time, they have built a solid crew, but when Price requests a transfer because her wife got a promotion that requires relocation, they’re left with a spot to fill.

Judd is the one that comes to them with Carlos Reyes as a candidate; the man sings his praises; he tells them about Carlos’ record, his instincts as a firefighter, his empathy, and his loyalty. It’s obvious by the way Judd speaks about his friend that he respects him – given that it’s taken months for him to earn the same level of respect from him, TK is impressed before they even meet with Carlos.

“I have to say, Reyes,” Owen starts, he looks down at his notes like he’s studying them again. TK sucks in the corner of his bottom lip to keep from smirking. His father has read it more than once, and though this interview has been going on for almost thirty minutes now, he knows his father made up his mind less than ten minutes in.  “Judd was right; you really are impressive.”

Carlos doesn’t blush, but it’s a near thing as he gives them a small smile. “Judd is a good friend, sir, he might have embellished a bit,” he says humbly, and TK has to bite down on his lip to keep from letting out a ridiculous smitten sigh.  He can’t help it though; Carlos Reyes is a dream, he’s the walking definition of tall, dark, and handsome. Add to that his soft voice, and bashfulness and TK is already crushing hard.

“Captain Blake also raves about you,” his dad continues, and this time Carlos does blush.

“Michelle has known me since I was in high school, I had classes with her sister,” he explains with a shrug. “She’s my best friend.”

“So she embellished too?” Owen questions with a raised eyebrow and a grin.

“Probably,” Carlos chuckles softly before turning serious. “I’m good at my job, sir. I work hard, and I make a commitment every time I put on the uniform to be the best I can be for the people we’re here to help, but most importantly, for my team. If I’m not, one of them can get hurt, and I’m not about to let that happen.”

TK looks over at his dad catching the glint in his eye; it’s one he’s familiar with, an understanding of that instinct to protect, to save, he’s seen it in the eyes of every one of his crew members at some point.

“You’ve been with the 121 for two years now, Carlos,” his father comments curiously. “That’s a long time to bond with a crew, and by what you just said, it’s obvious you’re loyal. Why consider coming here to us?”

Carlos makes a complicated face before letting out a sigh. “You’ve had run-ins with my former Captain, Billy Tyson,” he says matter of fact. Now it’s TK who makes a face at the reminder of the man that tried to take his father’s job.

He turns a little red when Carlos’ eyes stray to him; the way the corners of his mouth lift lets him know he caught his reaction.

“I hear he’s getting better,” his dad answers much more politely than TK could ever be.

“So I hear,” Carlos says with a tight smile. “But given that you know him and what he pulled here by trying to take your firehouse, you know Tyson is a bigot,” Carlos continues, not holding back. “His temporary replacement is cut from the same cloth.”

Owen sighs with a deep frown on his face. “Disappointing but not surprising, unfortunately.”

“I agree,” Carlos answers, his eyes drifting back to him for a moment before looking back at his dad. “It’s not a great place to be an ‘other’ as you can imagine, and that’s what I am because I’m gay.”

TK sees how the words cause his dad to sit up straighter, that protective streak of his radiating off him.

He feels a kinship instantly to Carlos; he remembers his first firehouse before ending up in his dad’s. It’s never easy being considered different, and he sympathizes with Carlos and what he might have to put up with on a daily basis to do his job.

“Now I’m not saying that Tyson or anyone else at the 121 discriminated against me because of my sexual orientation,” Carlos says quickly. “If that had been the case, I would have had them before a review faster than they could blink.”

“That’s right,” Owen says instantly, and with force, it makes Carlos smile, more freely and comfortable than before.

“Right,” he repeats, still smiling for a moment before it’s wiped away from his expression. “But even though they never discriminated against me, there has always been a wall between my team and me that I can’t seem to overcome.”

Carlos looks down at his hands, and TK can’t help but ache for him. His team is his family; he can’t imagine what it must feel like not to have that with the people that your life depends on.

“That’s why Judd recommended me for your team,” Carlos explains, giving them a half-smile. “He’s my friend, and he wants me to be in a place where I will be accepted. He talks about you, Captain, with so much respect and admiration.”

Carlos’ gaze finds him again, soft brown eyes that are warm and lovely, and TK just wants to get lost in them.

“He talks about the team,” Carlos says softly, his stare staying on him now, and TK has to remind himself to breathe. He’s been around good looking men before, but he’s never had an immediate reaction to a man the way he’s having one now with Carlos. It’s more than just Carlos’ pretty face; there is something in those brown eyes of his that TK is instantly connected too. “You’re his family; he and Michelle want me to have the same; that’s why they asked you to interview me.”

Owen makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, his face is neutral, but TK knows his father well, and knows he’s affected by Carlos’ words. “Carlos, would you mind stepping out of the office for a moment?”

“Of course,” Carlos says as he quickly gets up from his seat and heads for the door, at the last moment, he turns back to them. “Whatever you decide, sir, I appreciate that I was even considered. And given everything Judd has been through, I’m grateful you’ve made him feel welcomed,” he tells them with a nod before he walks out, closing the door behind him.

The office is quiet for a moment after Carlos leaves, TK studies his dad, waiting for him to speak.

“What do you think?” he asks finally, and TK can’t help but chuckle.

“Why are you even asking me that, when you’ve already adopted him in your head, dad?” he questions, raising an eyebrow when Owen tries to protest.

“Okay, fine,” Owen huffs begrudgingly. “Maybe I’m considering adopting him.”

“I know,” he says, laughing again at his father. “You’re awesome that way.”

Owen grins at him. “Did you like him?”

“Yeah,” he says quickly, knowing it’s entirely true. It’s not just that he’s attracted to Carlos, though he is, ridiculously so for someone he’s known for less than an hour and who spent most of that time talking to his dad and not him. He likes Carlos as a person; what little he knows of him just makes him want to know more; he wants to know everything. “I really liked him.”

The words aren’t completely out of his mouth, but he knows he’s said too much from the way his dad’s expression changes in a second, it goes from considering to amused in the blink of an eye.

“Oh TK,” he says, chuckling in a way that has him blushing at how knowing he sounds. “That fast, kid? Really?”

TK blushes harder, scowling when it just makes his dad chuckle some more. “Shut up, dad,” he says, standing up.

“Well then, on top of feeling like Carlos would be a good fit here,” his dad starts, zero remorse for his amusement at his expense. “It will be fun to see you deal with a crush; it’s been a while.”

TK ignores the ribbing for now and focuses on the rest of his dad’s comment. “So, you’re hiring him?”

Owen rolls his eyes at him. “Even if I didn’t like him, on qualifications alone, I would be nuts not too. He was being too humble; he’s damn good at his job. Plus, I do like him, and I don’t like the idea of him spending one more second in the 121 where he’s obviously not comfortable. This is a no brainer.”

TK smiles, his heart full of love for his father and his kindness. “Good, I’m glad.”

“I bet you are,” Owen snorts, and TK loses his smile to glare at him. “Go, let him know he’s ours now.”

TK rolls his eyes, but even now, he can’t hide that he’s pleased by his father’s decision.

“And TK?” he calls out, stopping him just as he reaches for the door. “Keep it professional while on the clock.”

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves, arguing with his father would be pointless. His dad has always been able to read him clear as day, and he knows when he’s interested in someone.

He finds Carlos downstairs sitting down on the edge of the ladder truck; he stays quiet as he takes a seat next to him.

“So,” he says, looking over at Carlos, swallowing hard when he turns his head to look at him. Up close, those brown eyes are stunning with their specks of gold.

“So,” he says back with a soft look on his face. “What’s the verdict?”

“Oh please,” he says sarcastically with a grin. “You won him over about five seconds after you sat down. You’re officially his new favorite.”

Carlos chuckles, shaking his head, the smile on his face is like sunshine.

“Come on,” he says, patting Carlos’ shoulder before standing up. “I’ll introduce you to the crew, and let's see if you can charm the pants off them too.”

Carlos gets up, bringing his body close to his as he goes to his full height, this close TK is even more struck by his beauty.

“Charm their pants off, huh?” Carlos grins, it makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, and TK is sure his heart is going to burst out of his chest from beating so hard. It beats with the knowledge that this is the beginning of something. “Yours too?”

TK licks his lips, his stomach clenching as Carlos’ eyes drop to his mouth, his eyes darkening when he looks up at him again. He smiles, the anticipation of what’s to come coursing through him. “If you play your cards right.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star fic #30 days of tarlos #my writing #tk x carlos #firefighter Carlos! au

[lucky-peoqle]

dating steve and being dustin's sister would include...

OKAY HI THIS IS MY FIRST ONE OF THESE EVER SO IF YOU LIKED IT AND WANT MORE PLS TELL ME

season 1

you and steve aren't dating yet, y'all are kinda enimes in a way

you being friends with the party

og babysitter for them

besties with jonathan

helping to boys find will the night they find eleven

you go over to the wheelers to make sure mike gets to he's safe

you see steve trying to sneak into nancy's room

you roll your eyes

he waves and acts like he's doing nothing

you go back to the two boys with mike

people think you and jon are dating

when steve has jon's camera you run up to them telling him to knock it off

"knock it off steve, give it back."

"or what, henderson? or what?"

when he drops jon's camera you slap him across the face.

he lowkey fell in love with you a bit

you tell the party you slapped steve across the face and they treat you like a queen

walking into the allyway with jon and nance when 'nancy the slut wheeler' was written on the movie theater

"oh look, it's nancy the slut wheeler and the creepy couple."

you get all up in his face

"what. the. fuck. harrington."

you try to punch him but jon and nancy pull you back.

cheering jonathan on when him and steve fight

the night the demogorgan attack you go with jon and nance to the byers.

opening the door when steve comes over

"hey y/n, is uh, is nancy here?"

"steve, go home it's not safe."

him walking in anyway.

when the demogorgan attacks you almost get eaten but steve wacks the damn thing before it can

"thanks harrington."

"no problem henderson."

when you find out will had been found you cry. hard.

when you meet up with dustin and the party again you hug them all so tight, but dustin tighter

before steve leaves the hospital you stop him

"uh, thanks for saving my ass back there at the byers."

"yeah, don't worry about it."

y'all smile at each other

then he leaves

season 2

you and steve haven't talked since that night

but you do share glances

the first time he talked to you that year was:

billy's arms around your waist

you're uncomfortable telling him to stop

he asks you to tina's party

you say no

you asks you on a date

"hey asshole! she said leave her alone."

steve.

"whatever." billy shakes his head and leaves

"thanks harrington."

"yeah, don't wention it."

walks away lol awkward.

going as a female ghostbuster with the party!!

max instantly loves you tbh

you leave a bit early then the rest of the group

when dustin gets home he bursts into you room

"what the fuck dusty?"

"shut up i found a world changing discovery!"

shows you dart.

"wHAT THE FUCK IS THAT"

"SHHHH mom with hear you!"

"what's going on in there?"

"nothing mom!!"

when dart eats mews you cry

"it ate my cat?"

"please dont cry..."

going to the wheelers with dustin and see steve.

"hey harrington, what are you doing?"

"uh, going to apologize to nancy."

"she's not here."

"oh."

"STEVE DO YOU STILL HAVE THAT BAT?"

explains the plan to him

going back to your house in steve car.

you can see in the corner of your eye he keeps glancing at you.

when y'all are in the basement/cellar you see dart and scream when he runs at you

steve bashes his bat at it and runs over to you

"hey, are you okay?"

you laugh, "this is like the 3rd time you've saved me."

"yeah, yeah whatever. im a superhero i get it."

"shut up harrington."

"steve stop flirting with my sister."

you two went red oops

listening to steve's stupid advice on girls to dustin.

"don't listen to him dusty, his advice sucks ass."

"it doesn't!"

"if it doesn't then where is nancy right now huh? she's off somewhere with jon."

"can you shut it, no one asked you to butt into our conversation."

"yeah whatever harrington."

going to the junkyard with max, lucas and the two idiots.

max and you basically doing all the work

dusin and lucas are talking while steve is doing some of the work but he's also staring at you most of the time.

"steve please do something."

"yeah, uh, sorry."

you and steve going out to fight the demodogs.

"shit shit shit shit shit."

"sTEVE BEHIND YOU"

"HENDERSON LOOK OUT"

chaotic energy pls

going back onto the bus

"you called me steve."

"fuck off steve."

"say it again."

he loves the way you say his name awe

"steve."

he almost has a heart attack

"stop. flirting. with. my. sister."

"sorry."

going back to the byers and talking to steve.

when eleven comes back you hug her so tight

"who's that?"

steve whispered in you're ear.

it sent shivers down your spine i-

when billy comes into the house he corners you.

"hey princess, you didn't come to that date last week."

"i was busy."

"i doubt that."

"hey jackass, what did i tell you about leaving my girlfriend alone?"

steve punches billy.

you went super red omg.

"steve just called you his girlfriend.."

dustin grinning super wide.

"shut it dusty."

when max was driving you and mike were in the back with steve.

steve's head on your lap.

"dustin...?"

"no steve it's y/n."

calming him down when he freaks out about the car.

when y'all get to the weird hole thing you talk steve into going down with them.

"come on steve, we have to protect the kids."

"alright, fine."

you smile at him and he falls in love with you even more.

the kids thank you for talking him into it.

when y'all are in the hole and y'all run into dart.

"it's dart. dusty do something."

"yeah i got this."

when they escape and the demodogs come charging you and steve stand in fear.

"this is it, im going to die here."

steve grabs you hand.

the demodogs run past you and to the meat.

steve wraps you in the tightest hug and you're crying.

he kisses you on the top of your head.

getting out of the hole and talking tl him about billy

"steve you called me your girlfriend."

"yeah sorry, i just didn't want to see you get hurt."

"awe, you care about me harrington?"

"of course i do, idiot."

the night of the snowball you see dustin in the hallway walking to the front door.

"steve's here."

you and steve have gotten very close the past month.

"okay, i wanted to tell you you look good before you left."

"and did steve tell you his hair secrets?"

"maybe.." dustin chuckles.

its been about 30 minutes since steve took dustin and you hear a knock at the door.

you open it and see steve.

"hey y/n."

"hi steve."

"i was wondering if you wanted to hang out?"

"sure."

that night consisted of watching christmas movies and cuddling after a bit.

steve pauses the movie.

"what are you doing?"

"uh.. y/n i need to tell you something."

"oh okay.." you heart is pounding.

"you know what, fuck it."

you open your mouth to say something but before you can steve is kissing you.

it's soft and full of care and love.

you pull away needing air.

"i've loved you since you slapped him for breaking jonathan's camera."

you chuckle.

"i love you too steve, since you kinda saved my ass from the demogorgan."

falling asleep on the couch in each others arms.

dustin comes home and see you two and smiles.

"sTEVE WAKE UP"

both of you wake up.

"you forgot to pick me up."

season 3

you two are dating now yay!!

mom and dad of the party.

making fun of steve in his scoops ahoy uniform.

he rolls his eyes.

"you know you love it."

"yeah, you do look hot."

he loves to kiss you omg.

"steve don't kiss my sister in front of me."

does it anyway.

"what the fuck dude."

one night during the first nights of summer you and steve where having a prettt steamy make out session in your room.

his shirt was off and so was yours ;))

dustin walked in

" hey y/n csn i borrow- OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK."

you yell at him

"DUSTIN OUT NOW"

he zooms outta there.

back to making out lol

you are a year younger then steve so you're going into senior year.

steve reassuring you it's easy but ur not sure.

this boy loves to spoil you with ice cream.

when his parents aren't homd you come over and late night swim and cuddle on the roof looking at stars a lot.

he's so cheesy omg

when dustin comes back you giggle at there silly handshake.

"and hi babe."

kiss

"stEVE NO KISSING IN FRONT OF ME"

"let me love my girlfriend pls."

when you find out about suzie you get all protective.

"are you sure she's right for you?"

"i swear she is omf."

you and jon have been so busy you kinda stop hanging out but like you're too busy with the kids anyway.

best friends with robin omg.

when dustin and steve say that russian spies are in hawkins you laugh

then you hear the recording and you believe them oop

part of the scoops troop!!

when you get trapped in the elavator you cry.

"please don't cry babe, we're gonna be okay."

steve hugs u tight.

getting separated from steve and robin and you cry again.

"if he gets hurt i swear to god ill blow this place up."

"jesus calm down henderson."

you smile at dustin and wipe your tears.

after you got out of the vents for what felt like hours you find what looks to be a giant red block you can ride in.

"hell yeah!"

"dustin there's no key."

"shiiit."

finding a key and sitting in the back of the car thing with the deadly weapon.

"okay ready?"

"yep."

running and zapping the commies with the thing and erica is too.

after getting into the room you run up to steve and gasp.

"hi baby."

"oh hey y/n..." steve slurs.

you look at his swollen shut eye.

"jesus you're beat."

dustin getting them out and you help steve out of them room while erica and dustin help robin.

sitting in the back with robin and steve.

steve keeps putting his hand on your thigh and you hit it off.

"steve, i love you bur stop."

he stops.

getting back into the elavator and sigh at robin and steve.

steve falls of the cart and you kneel down next to him.

"he's drugged." dustin says.

"no im not dad."

you laugh.

going into the movie theaters and loosing the two idiots was no treat.

PT 2 IS OUT

#stranger things imagine #stranger things 3 #stranger things #st3 spoilers #st3 #stranger things spoilers #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x henderson!reader #dustin henderson #dustin henderson imagine #dustin henderson x sister!reader

[forlornmelody]

Impulse Control--Why Startling Poison Ivy Is A Really Bad Idea

Rating: E (Smut with some plot, for flavor.)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: Poison Ivy/Kate Kane

Linkage: Ao3

Summary:  To find Harley, Ivy must make an uneasy alliance with one of the more notorious (and notoriously attractive) members of the Batfamily. A simple, easy in-and-out. But nothing is so simple or easy, is it?

Note: Commission for @rookie009. Dude, thank you so much for commissioning me again. And indulging this weirdness.

->->->

Pam-a-lamb,

I’m doing bad stuff but don’t worry ‘bout it. 

--Harley xoxo

“It’s completely unlike her, right?” 

Jason leans against the doorway, one boot braced against it and the other flat on the floor. He holds Harley’s unfolded note in his gloved hands, narrowing his eyes at it as if the answer lies in the creases. “You know her better. What’s your gut telling you?” 

“She--” Ivy sighs, rubbing circles between her eyebrows--a futile gesture against her impending headache. “--She doesn’t leave notes. Harley just goes . Maybe she texts me while she’s out somewhere because the color of someone’s jacket made her think of me.” Waving her hand at the note, Ivy meets Jason’s eyes. “This…” 

“...is planned.” Jason rotates the note, flipping it forward and back. “You sure it’s her handwriting?"

Honestly, Ivy doesn’t know what to think. “It...doesn’t look any different.” She coughs. “It smells like her.” Like buttered popcorn and Chinese food. Remembering cuts right into her sternum. 

Jason puts a gloved hand over hers. He’s the only Robin who ever dared to touch her. “You’ll get her back. I know you will.”

She watches him step back towards the door. “Not we?”

“Sorry, Red. I can’t help you.” Jason shifts on his feet. To be honest, Ivy kind of expected this. She can still see the scar running down the side of his face, where a crowbar had bashed his head in, and where a coroner had sewn it back shut. Funny how the Lazarus Pit didn’t remove it when it brought him back. “The Outlaws and I have work in Markovia.” Ivy’s teeth grind together at the blatant lie, but before she can speak, he continues,  “But if it’s a gun you need, I’m not the only one in the Batfamily who can handle them.”

“Who--?”

“Don’t worry. She’ll find you.”

He shuts the door behind him so softly Ivy almost doesn’t hear it. The gears in her mind clicking into place drown it out.

You better be joking, Kid. 

 -----

Jason was not kidding. Ivy enters her greenhouse lab, and finds Batwoman herself leaning against a drosera glanduligera . “I’d give Frankie some space if I were you. He finds unannounced guests quite delicious and full of nutrients.”

Batwoman quickly puts distance between them. Frankie’s tentacles sag with betrayal. “Red Hood told me you needed a favor?” Her crimson-stained lips wrinkle with distaste. 

“Harley’s missing. Jason Todd told me you’d help.” It’s an exaggeration of his promise, but Ivy isn’t leaving anything to chance. 

It’s hard to tell with the cowl, but Ivy swears Batwoman’s eyes widen just a little before narrowing into slits. “That depends. Am I aiding you in a crime?”

Ivy turns around, pretending to ignore her as she prunes a mutated rosa gymnocarpa, one that will fire its thorns at will. She’s thinking of naming it Lucy. “Depends on what you consider a crime.” Before Batwoman can answer, Ivy continues. “Is hacking government systems a crime? Is kidnapping?”

Batwoman steps next to her, and nearly fingers the rose petals, but thinks better of it. “You think government agents took her somewhere?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time. But I want to find her before someone worse does.”

Ivy’s desk seems like a safe enough place, and Batwoman perches there. “You’re not worried I’m going to turn you in?”

That gets a chuckle out of her. “You’re certainly welcome to try.”

The suggestion rolls off of her like rain on a window pane. “Oh, like Batman hasn’t turned you in several times before?”

Ivy licks her lips. “Only when I wanted him to.”

The vigilante rolls her eyes. “Look. I owe J--Red Hood a favor. So I’ll look into it and--”

“No. I’m coming with you.”

“Why?”

“I have to make sure you’re not giving me bad intel.” Before Batwoman can protest, Ivy continues. “You don’t want to disappoint Jason, do you?”

Is it Batwoman muffling her grumble, or is it her mask?

“This  can’t be the Batcave.”

“It’s not. It’s a safehouse. One I will be relocating after this.”

Ivy snorts, eyeing a piece of ancient weaponry, a Roman shield by the looks of it. It seems neither of them trusts the other. She’s fine with that. Not once has Ivy ever appreciated having someone depend on her. Well. There’s always an exception, isn’t there? But that exception is off doing fuck-knows-what, and Ivy’s relying on a godamn hero to help find her. “Nice place,” she murmurs. 

“Don’t touch anything.” Batwoman says quickly, sitting down at her desk, bracing her chin on her elbows in front of her keyboard. It’s so... candid of her that Ivy catches herself staring. Apparently even superheroes let their shoulders roll forward sometimes. Ivy wonders what Batwoman looks like when she finally removes her cowl for the night. The red hair most definitely is a wig--real hair would never hold curls like that. Her hair is short underneath--putting it up would take too much time when an old lady needs help crossing the street. But other than the fullness of her red lips--Ivy has no idea who the woman is underneath. It’s going to drive her crazy--just like it did with her male counterpart. “CIA says she’s been “acquired for a black ops mission out of Bell Reve. But anything beyond that we’ll have to access on si--Are you even listening?”

Ivy shakes it off, pretending to examine her nails. “And why can’t I touch anything if you’re moving?” She’s trying to remember why Bell Reve sounds so familiar. 

“I would like to keep some of it. I like the way it looks. And I don’t want your pheromones on everything.”

Then it clicks. “ Beautiful View. Is that another prison?”

Batwoman presses her lips together, then nods. “Blacksite.”

Fire roils in Ivy’s veins. “Of fucking course it is.” No accountability. No oversight. Whoever kidnapped Harley can do fuck-all with her and get away with it. And Ivy (and Batwoman) have barely scratched the surface.

“Doctor Isley?” Batwoman says, her voice rising and tense.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay? The vines in my spider plant look about ready to strangle me.”

Ivy glances over at the chlorophytum comosum, whose children are quickly inching towards Batwoman and her slender neck. “She says you’re smothering her and her babies with the constant watering. And she prefers the name Billie.” Waving her hand, Ivy watches as the spider plants retreat back towards their home, leaving their caretaker well alive, for now. 

 ------

The “site”  is a nondescript cubicle-laced hell in the basement of a social security office. Neither of them can go through the front door--well, Batwoman could if she’d take off her goddamn cowl, but that isn’t happening any time soon. So they pop open a basement window while the mailroom workers are on their lunch. They meander through the maze of modular walls and humming towers, dodging the occasional wayward paper crumble. “Our info should be in that corner office.”

It doesn’t look like much, just an otherwise empty desk with a computer that has dust gathering on its keyboard. The room lacks widows, and Ivy wrinkles her nose at the musty air. It could use a sathiphyullum or two to freshen up. Batwoman leans over the desk, firing up the computer and clacking at the keys. “Almost there….”

Ivy smells them before she hears them--donuts, coffee, and the musk of unwashed skin. Security. “Bats---”

Batwoman doesn’t even deign to look up. “Keep ‘em busy.”

“Poison Ivy?” The first guard fumbles to keep his walkie-talkie in his hands. 

“Good afternoon,” she says neutrally. Batwoman gives her a steel look. “Work here often?”

His mouth hangs open, his thumb still glued to the talk button. He means to ask what she’s doing here, but all that comes out is: “Are you seeing anyone?”

Ivy snorts. “Maybe if you set that radio down, Casanova.” 

As soon as he complies, the radio hisses with static. “Sending backup, over.”

“Ivy!” Bats hisses, glancing over at her. 

She scoffs, listening for the tell-tale thunder of boots down the hall. “You know, this would be a lot easier if you weren’t hung up about property damage.”

“No one can know we’re here, Ivy.”

For the love of pete. Her heart already races out of control, and fuck if Ivy can slow it down now. Harley’s calming techniques be damned. “Well, you’re not going to like this either.” 

“Like what?” Bats says flatly, in the middle of a download. 

“You’ve only two other options, Batsy.”

“Enough with the nicknames, already.”

The backup pours into the room, and the room flashes white, and Ivy swears her eardrums explode with the noise. Her body reacts before her brain can, and the air’s filled with a dusty haze. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

“Sex or murder?” Ivy calls out over the coughing militarized guards. Who the fuck guards a building with a SWAT team? Harley, what have you got yourself into this time? 

“What?” Batwoman yells back, coughing too. 

“SEX OR MURDER???”

“...Sex, I guess?”

Ivy holds up her hands, seeing half a dozen sights aimed at her chest. “It’s gonna be sex with me. You okay with that?”

Batwoman doesn’t look up, but she does stop typing. “Is this hypothetical or…?”

“Not anymore it isn’t.” 

“Are you going to kill me otherwise?” 

Ivy pinches her nose. “ NO. For crying out loud. But we don’t have time to get arrested.”

“HANDS ON THE GROUND.” Ivy and Bats comply. What else are they going to do while they hash this out?

The vigilante rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“ Yes, Ivy. But only if it’s not around these idiots.”

“If you insist.” Ivy waves her hand as subtly as she can, letting the pheromones escape her skin like a fine mist. 

“Uh, boss?” One of the sights drops to her hand. Shit. 

Five more join the first. “Hey! None of that. ”Pigs never were known for their subtlety. 

Ivy plasters on her most repentant expression. “Too late.” And she’s not lying. She can already see the green mist being pulled into the HVAC system. Which is another problem, but one she’s not going to worry about just yet. 

“Plant Lady! Get that shit out of the air!”

One. 

“No can do. Sorry.” Not sorry. Not one bit. 

Two. 

“I mean it, Lady. Or I’ll shoot!”

Three. 

“ Lady, I swear I’ll--”

One piggy turns to the other. “Hey, Frankie?”

“Not now, Mitch.”

“There’s something I gotta tell you, Frankie.” Mitch takes his hand, fingering the clasps on the other man’s armor. 

“Mitch? What hell-- mm. ”

Batwoman holds her flash drive in her hands, stunned by the site of an entire SWAT team playing tonsil hockey with one another. Ivy grabs her by the cape. “That’s our cue!” And she drags her to a cubicle by the stairs. 

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we just left ?” 

“‘Fraid not. Unless you packed an antidote to my new toxin with you.” 

“Actually.” Batwoman fishes around in her utility belt. “Shit.” She turns on her, jabbing a finger in her face. “You were supposed to be on your best behavior.”

Ivy folds her arms, leaning against the cubicle wall. “Wasn’t expecting them to send the SWAT after us.” 

Batwoman takes a deep breath. “So, how does this work, exactly?”

Licking her lips, Ivy answers. “There’s an antidote in my saliva, but it’s the most potent after I’ve had an orgasm.”

“Then why does it have to be sex?” Bat’s candor is refreshing, if not unexpected. “Why not jill yourself off and get it over with?” 

“It’s not so simple,” Ivy chuckles. “My DNA is too dissimilar to yours--”

“But if you have my DNA, aka my saliva , with it--”

“An effective antidote.”

“An effective antidote that won’t cause you serious side effects.” She steps towards Bats, holding out her hand. “Any other questions before we start?”

Batwoman quirks her head at Ivy’s clinical tone. “Will Harley be okay with this?”

Ah. There’s the question of the day. Ivy closes her hand, examining her nails as she shrugs. “She’ll be alive . And free.”

Black gloved hands take her bare ones in their own, squeezing them gently. “You love her, don’t you.”

Ivy swallows, feeling as if the ground is moving beneath her boots. “I’d--” do anything for her , she means to say, and give Batwoman the vantage over her.

Batwoman seals her mouth over hers, muffling her reply. And to think this woman had the more ruthless reputation over her male counterpart. Her slips are soft and full, and the gloss slides between them and tastes like dark cherry. Intoxicating. Ivy dares to dart her tongue between them, and taste that poison just that much more. 

Her pheromones work quickly as they enter Batwoman’s system. Her professional silence slips into wanton moans, and her hands work into the top of Ivy’s bust. She shivers, leaning into her touch, whispering encouragement. “Go ahead. Touch me everywhere you’d like.” 

Nearby, an officer lets out a guttural cry, “Please, baby. Gimme more.”

That pulls Batwoman’s attention away, and Ivy drags it back with the drag of her nails across the material of her uniform. “Shh. Don’t mind them. They can’t even hear us over the sound of their own sex.”

Batwoman’s voice is husky as she pulls the top of Ivy’s corset down. “You sure?”

“Mmhm. Happens all the time.” Batwoman laughs at that, and moans as Ivy’s hands dally around her utility belt. “Now, aren’t these things booby trapped?”

Nodding, Batwoman whispers. “Security disengage: Code Sappho.” The utility belt snaps open falling into her hands. 

Ivy laughs. “Oh my god .”

“Laugh all you want. I’m changing it as soon as this is over.”

Setting the belt aside, Ivy runs a finger down to Batwoman’s crotch. She drinks in the hiss from her lips, adding more pressure and more fingers, drawing heat between her legs and hopefully a little wetness. “You like that, don’t you.” 

“Nn, fuck.” Batwoman leans into her touch. She’s a goner. 

Ivy loves this part of the game, taking the most stubborn partner and watering their desire until it breaks them apart like tree roots in a sidewalk. It’s different from when she makes love to Harley. This is less like romance and more like chess. How many moves until she queens her king? “That’s it. Tell me what feels good.”

Batwoman’s knees go weak, and Ivy shoves her into a rolling chair. She presses the heel of her hand into her groin. “Oh g-- . Mm.” Gasping, Bats grabs Ivy's hand and shoves it into her own pants. 

“Mm, demanding, aren’t you?” Ivy bites her ear lobe. “I like that.”

“Just get it o --oh. ” Bats leans into Ivy’s skillful touch, and she plays her like a violin, basking in the melody ringing from her lips. But Batwoman would never let a bad girl win, now would she?

Teeth graze Ivy’s neck, and the gasp slips from her mouth faster she can stop it. 

“Oh fuck. Fuck yes. Right there.” It no longer registers which goon is saying what. They could all be chanting in unison for all Ivy knows. And she doesn’t care. 

Batwoman licks the red line she’s created, and she squeezes Ivy’s breast through her uniform, just on the edge of too hard . She knows exactly what she’s doing. Check . Ivy catches her mouth, tasting her, drawing quick, tight circles around her clit. Just as Bats quakes in her arms, Ivy pulls back. “Oh come on, ” she groans.

“You get tied up a lot , don’t you?” Ivy glances at the zamioculus zamifolia, potted at the opposite desk corner. “You must enjoy it, then.” Batsy’s eyes widen as the vines stretch towards her. “Why else would you keep going to work?”

“It’s annoying as fuck--” The vines halt their progress, and shudder, and the Bat licks her lips. “--On the job.”

“That’s more like it.” The vines curl and twist around Bat’s wrists, binding her to the chair. Two more bind the chair, albeit loosely, to the desk. Let her move her hips, without letting her roll away. Once she’s in place, Ivy sways her hips, slowly undoing the zipper in her one piece suit. She lets it slide down her skin, and Ivy presses her bare breasts into Bat’s face, and just for a moment her mark closes her eyes, breathing her in. 

Ivy frowns. This won’t do. This won’t do at all. She whisks the vines away, and Batwoman stares at her. Pulling back again, Ivy kicks her suit past her ankles, and tosses the keyboard aside. She sits on the desk with her legs spread wide. “I’m gonna need you to bed over, darling.” 

“I’m not your darling.” Bats turns her chair around, leaning down, and breathing in Ivy’s musk. She barely remembers to tie her up again. 

It occurs to Ivy that she hasn’t let anyone other than Harley get this close in a very long time. Usually Ivy leaves her marks to die after they get her pheromones in their system. There was that one time with Selina when one of their capers went sideways. While Ivy swore up and down, Catwoman pulled her goggles away from her eyes and kissed her full on the mouth. And things escalated from there. But that was before Harley. 

Batwoman takes her sweet time tasting her, and Ivy finds herself gripping the desk with white knuckles. No. She won’t let her know how nice this feels-- oh. Oh God. “ Fuck.” 

And then Batwoman pulls back. “Has Harley been gone that long?”....Did she say that last part out loud?

“Fuck you.”

Tilting her head to the side, Batwoman asks, “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

Oh, but Ivy wants to wipe that coy smile off that face and replace it with her pleas for mercy. “Almost. Do you prefer to be teased or penetrated?” Ivy leans forward with her breasts pressed together, her words clinical and her grin anything but. 

Bats dares to look her over, drinking the sheen on her skin. Her mouth never quite closes. She licks her lips, almost panting as she asks. “Must I choose?”

Ivy takes Bat’s chin in her hands. “Greedy, aren’t you?”

Whatever Bat’s snarky reply is, it’s lost in Ivy’s mouth as she claims her once more. This time neither of them hold back, devouring each other sloppily and noisily. Ivy trails kisses down Bat’s neck, and she summons another vine. The tiniest, softest leaf brushes across Bat’s clit. Batwoman cries out sharply, straining against her bonds. 

“Ready?” Ivy pulls the vine back, examining the wetness dripping down its stalk. Oh, she’s ready all right. But Ivy wants to hear her say it. 

“Ivy .” 

Digging her fingers into Bat’s chin, Ivy nearly growls. “ Beg for it. ” The vine teases her clit faster, not harder, never quite getting her where she wants it. No, needs it. 

Goosebumps run down Batwoman’s arms. “ Please.”

How fortunate that one of the cubicle dwellers has taken to growing a ficus ginseng microcarpa as a bonsai tree. Ivy draws out one of the aerial roots, sculpting it into the right shape. She slides a condom on it, safety first, of course, and lets the plant do the rest. It enters Bats slowly, slowly filling her up. Her eyes bulge as it pulls back, and pushes back in. No sound spills from her mouth, but her hips shift, thrusting with the plant as it fucks her. 

Fuck, but Ivy’s mouth is dry. Her thighs twitch, rubbing together hungrily as she watches. She wants to touch herself so bad but she won’t give Batwoman that satisfaction. She won’t. She...

Batwoman’s face twists, and her mouth pinches shut. Her back arches and the chair squeaks across the floor. The groan rasps out of her mouth as her jaw drops into the perfect Oh. 

“Not bad.” Ivy picks some lint off of her arm, releasing Batwoman from her bonds. “The antidote should be working now. Thank you for the view --” 

The vigilante charges forward, gripping Ivy’s arms and pressing her back into the desk. Ivy watches the monitor crash to the floor. “I’m not done yet.” Batwoman’s signature lipstick has smeared across her chin in a very un-Batlike fashion. Her gloved fingers poke at Ivy’s clit, and she hisses. “Still sensitive, aren’t we? Still unsatisfied?” Her voice drops low and teasing, and fuck, Ivy won’t tell her to fuck off now . 

Those same fingers that cast batarangs and grip grappling hooks dig into her, twisting and pulling. A chorus of cries ring out in harmony with her own, as Ivy lifts her hips off the desk, thrusting into Batwoman’s touch. “Yes. Yes.” Bats grins into Ivy’s mouth, drawing out her moans. Harley would do the same thing, but Ivy doesn’t want to think about her right now. She doesn’t want to think about anything at this moment. She draws up a vine, letting it coat itself in its own juices. Nice and easy , she tells herself, pulling away from Batwoman so she can look her in the eyes. 

The vine slithers between her butt cheeks, small end first. Batwoman raises her eyebrows, but she doesn’t stop her delicious torment. In fact, she licks her lips a little. “Ah, fuck. Fuck. ” Her hand works in tandem with Ivy’s vines, pushing and pulling her hips back and forth like a rubber band. She chuckles into Ivy’s mouth, claiming it again, tasting it again. Only chuckling louder as Ivy begs and begs for release. Batmwoman clenches Ivy’s hip with her free hand, digging in her fingers so she feels that much more used . And fuck her, Ivy loves it. 

If the pigs nearby are still fucking, Ivy can’t hear them. 

She doesn’t even hear herself moaning into Batwoman’s ear. She only hears the slick as she’s fucked from both sides. And oh , the fullness of both . Ivy grips Batwoman’s shoulders to keep from shaking apart, and she bites the skin of her neck as she explodes with the heat of the sun.

Ivy stretches as the vine and Batwoman pull back, and she hums with satisfaction. Batwoman watches her with molten eyes. “Should we go agai--”

Ding! The computer chimes nearby. 

Ivy sits up quickly, shaking off the last vestiges of her afterglow, slinking her one piece on and zipping it up the back. The zipper gets stuck, and before she can weigh the pros and cons of asking , gloved fingers finish the job for her. “Transfer’s done.”

“Finally.”  Ivy grabs her boots, marching to the office barefoot. 

Batwoman clicks a few keys, and whistles . “Mission’s already done. She’s at Metropolis General.”

“She’s hurt !?” A branch snaps in a horrid crack behind them. 

“She was, but she’s being discharged today. Better hurry.”

Batwoman doesn’t need to tell her twice. 

Ivy pauses to don her boots in the hallway. Nearby she hears the sound of a half-a-dozen special response officers zipping up their flies. “Ah, fuck. I lost a button. Anyone see the button to my uniform?”

“Fuck off. At least you’re not missing a contact lens.” 

“Hey! Who stole my gun?”

“Ah shit. Mine too.”

Leaving them behind, Ivy chuckles. The green always knows how to take good care of her. Soon she’ll return the favor.

------

Room 23. The hospital stretches on in an endless maze. Ivy forces herself not to run, to carry her empty clipboard like she’s a doctor making her rounds. Just act like she belongs there and no one will notice. So far so--

Ivy’s heart soars when she spots the room number. 

“Harley!”

Harley shoots up in bed, swaying a little, but her shit eating grin tells Ivy everything will be okay. “Pretty girl!”

Ivy sits on the bed, planting a shy kiss on Harley’s lips. “I need to tell you something.” She explains the events of the past 24 hours, and Harley’s eyes go wide. Twisting her hands, Ivy waits an eternity for Harley to reply.

“Was she good? Do you think she’d be down for a threesome?”

“Harley!”

#dc comics #poison ivy #batwoman #jason todd #poison ivy x batwoman #finished this a few weeks ago #but was dealing with a breakup #sorry about the delay #melody writes #thank you asshat anon bot for reminding me to post more content you hate :P #lemon

[yelenasdog]

unknown desires (spencer reid x russell holmes) (i’m so sorry BFRHEKRB)

really all i have to say about this is what the fuck and why the fuck. I DESERVE NO RIGHTS. enjoy i guess??? if u found this while searching for some reid x reader there’s plenty of that on my account!! 

i’m deleting this bye ok-

btw it’s set at the end of s9 ep18 and then ends probably around s13?? idk. also listen to billie eilish’s “i love you” to be extra sad bc this is lowkey kinda angsty and lowkey a mess but im throwing it at u ok bye!

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary”- Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven

Spencer shouldn't have been so drawn the first time he saw Russell in person. He shouldn't have been drawn at all.

He was a victim, someone who the young doctor had stared at a photo of for days while planning his rescue.

Although he didn't feel the initial electricity, he was far too buried in the case to think about Russell's kind puppy dog eyes or plump, rosy lips. Yes, far too busy to even fathom thinking of the way his raven locks that Edgar Allan Poe himself would be jealous of complimented his ivory skin, even for an inkling of a moment. He couldn’t bear to do such a thing.

But then, there was after the case, that day at the hospital. There was loss, it was hard to see. But yet again, he saw it every day.

His brain was fuzzy, and he seemed to be more heavily affected by this case than any previous endeavors. He wasn’t sure as to why.

It had him lost in his own thoughts, swimming in a pool of unknown desires.

So lost in fact, so drowned in his daydream, that he was barely aware of the person that had been wheeled over in his general vicinity.

It was him. His pink pout (that was more of a smile) was busted, no doubt, and his porcelain skin had cuts littered among it, but god, it was him.

He should have been disgusted, scared even. The man had rabies! And this was doctor Reid we’re talking about, the biggest possible germaphobe. But he couldn’t bring himself, he was too infatuated. Not that he would admit to it, though.

And he apparently had heard about Spence and his displeasure with even slightly unsanitary situations, as he chose to greet (and simultaneously say goodbye) to the doctor with a simple wave and bashful smile.

Spencer returned it in the same manner. The interaction was quick, too quick. It also warmed his heart to a full extent.

Russell was whisked away by a nurse, looking back reluctantly at the three agents that had saved his life, specifically a certain brown haired doctor, wanting to encapsulate his stunning image in his mind.

Spencer stuck to a cycle. Save, move on, repeat. It was easiest to do so rather than deal with any tag along, unwanted, painful emotions. 

Because that’s all love was. 

Crude and abrupt pain. But despite this, he found himself asking Garcia for Russell's current home address. His own actions confused him, but nonetheless, he held his head high as he exited the batcave towards the light, clutching a paper with the info in his hands. 

He knew he didn’t need it. But he refused to face the (impossible) possibility to forget this information, to forget Russell.

The paper was wrinkled and dampened from his gorilla grip by the time he had arrived. He flattened it out with shaky hands, grabbing a fresh piece of parchment.

“Hello, I'm Doctor Spencer Reid.”

No, no, too formal. He erased it.

“Greetings, I’m Spencer Reid.”

What was he, an alien? Even though many members of the team thought so, he decided against giving Russell Holmes that opportunity. And then it was gone in the wind with a few swipes from his pencil eraser.

“Hi! I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, I was one of the agents that assisted on your case. I hope this message finds you well. I’m just checking in to see how you’re healing.”

Spencer scoffed at himself out loud. “just checking in”, his ass. He continued writing and with very low expectations, he sent off the letter.

------

“I'll be just a minute, Mom!” Russell hollered through his home as he went to go check the mail. He walked down to the mailbox, limping ever so slightly, still in recovery. He flipped through the various envelopes, doing a double take when he saw a certain name.

Doctor Spencer Reid

Apartment 23A

Wilcox Road, Quantico, Virginia, 22134

He tore into the message immediately, a growing smile resting on his face as he read.

“Hi! I’m Doctor Spencer Reid, I was one of the agents who assisted on your case. I hope this message finds you well. I’m just checking in to see how you’re healing. How's your mother been since her surgery? I hope she is doing well, too. If you need anything don’t hesitate to write back or call the number at the bottom of the page. Yet again, I'm glad we could get you home, perhaps to your boyfriend/ girlfriend, or wife/husband.

Best regards, Spencer.”

He was off the walls with excitement. There was a newfound pep in his step as he made his way up the driveway, no doubt planning on writing back.

“Dr. Reid, I appreciate you checking in on me. I do not regret informing you that there is no boyfriend or girlfriend here, just my mother and I while we both recover...”

-----

Glee and bliss. Those were the two things that could no doubt be used to describe the relationship between Spencer Reid and Russell Holmes.

Although it was nothing too formal, exchanges of news about mothers or about how work was going was going on either side soon became much more deep, bringing the two closer than imaginable, even from 689 miles apart.

Never meeting again in person, the situation reminded him all too much of Maeve, but nonetheless, to him, Russell was worth it. So they talked, and talked, for years and years on end. 

They both felt a warm fuzzy feeling in their chest, quite able to place the cause on one another. 

Then one day, they stopped. 

Spencer had gotten home from a long case, and was very much so looking forward to an uplifting note from his distanced lover. But to his surprise, there was nothing. 

Although he found it odd, he blew it off, considering the possibility of getting lost in the post, running some stat to calm himself. Pulling out his cell, he dialed the number that he had saved of Russell's if for some reason the letters were to become inadequate. Voice mail. And voicemail again, and again, and again. Spencer tried for days and weeks, but to no avail, he was met with radio silence.

Until one day, if it was fateful or not is up to you.

 It was sunny in August, and Spencer Reid was not a fan. 

After sweating around all day (he wasn’t sure what it meant either), he made his way to his apartment. He stripped down to his slacks and undershirt, waltzing around his apartment with a water bottle in hand.

knock knock

He squinted his honey eyes, confusion flooding his body. He cautiously approached the door, keeping his revolver in his peripheral vision, compliments of his paranoia.

Another two knocks sounded, but before a third could ring out, he swung the door open.

He gasped, his jaw water bottle falling out of his hand and rolling into the hallway.

“Russ?”

“Hi, Spence.”

He wanted to hug him, he wanted to kiss him, God, he wanted to-

“I felt like I needed to tell you in person.”

His heart dropped to his feet as Russell's own shaky hand presented itself, in it, a white envelope, similar to the one that started their not-so extravagant rondevu.

“W-what is this, Russ?” he opened with nimble fingers, sliding it from its encasement.

Join soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Russell and Jane Holmes-

He didn’t read the rest, he didn’t need to, and couldn't. Tears made their way to both men’s eyes, threatening with such a fierce hostility to spill.

“I’m so sorry, Spence.”

This warranted no response from the doctor. He looked blankly behind Russ, his mind running a million miles a minute. With his head hung in a terrible shame, Russell turned to leave.

He was shocked when he was stopped by Spencer grabbing him by his blue and red plaid shirt, pulling him back.

“Wait.”

He turned, his hazel eyes just barely meeting Spencer's own of the same color.

“Do you love her?”

He pondered for a moment, before nodding slightly.

“Yes, I,” he paused. “Yes.”

Spencer bit his bottom lip briefly, before making a choice he knew he would regret.

He gripped him by the collar of his shirt, smashing their lips together for the first time and the last.

It should have been sweet, it should have been everything he hoped for and more. It should have been a reunion as glorious as they both could have imagined.

But instead, it was a mixture of salty tears, as their lips moulded together like they were made for each other. He pulled away, trying to maintain a strong facade.

“Good.”

And with that, he took one more look, before committing him to a memory, and nothing else.

He shut his door, sliding down against it and silently sobbing, pulling at his curls as tears racked his body. He heard smaller footsteps pad up the staircase, stopping next to where he left a dumbstruck and emotion ridden Russell.

“Hey, sweetheart, is your friend going to be able to make it?” She rubbed his shoulder lovingly, so incredibly oblivious and unaware of the previous happenings.

He put a remorseful hand on hers, watching how her engagement ring shimmered, even in the dim lighting.

He put on a false smile for his future wife he thinks he loves. “I think he’s a bit busy, he said he needs to review the date.” He spoke loudly, hoping Spencer could hear him through the thick door.

She frowned, nodding in what was her understanding of it all.

“Well, I hope he can make it, he must be important if you came all the way here to deliver this for him!”

He smiled genuinely, thinking of all the letters sent and hours spent.  

“Yeah, more than he knows.”

It wasn't until after he heard their steps retrieve, and their car start up and go, that he picked up the card to finish reading it.

He ran his finger over the gold raised trim, the feeling giving him goosebumps. He read the front and flipped it over, seeing an all too familiar hand writing underneath the date that the supposed union was to be held.

I'm sorry, I love you.

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

literally what the fuck was that ffwbfbfbkfw what do i even tag this?? im so sorry. also this is my first character x character be nice

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #cm #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #boy x boy fic

[steebharringt0n]

Shadows of the Night | Vampire AU

dusk | night | dawn

Billy Hargrove doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen sunlight, or the last time he’s stepped inside a church. For over 500 years he’s been a vagabond, a wanderer, searching for a place to call home - until his travels land him in Hawkins, Indiana and his whole existence as he knows it is turned upside down.

pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader rating: m (blood, a tint of smut, abuse, language)

a/n: OOOH boy this is gonna be a three parter! (as I forget my other stories - HA) anyways, this is a mix of Twilight/True Blood/Interview with the Vampire-esque type~ Please let me know if you want to be tagged for the next part! I’m hoping to finish this up by the weekend since it being halloween and all. This does take place in 2019, so yay for technology! Enjoy!

---

Part 1 - Dusk

The sun quietly set over the tall pine trees as the rumble of his 2019 blue Camaro drove past the brown sign that welcomed him into the little town. He enjoyed the drive down the winding roads, it was peaceful and still, and he didn’t have to hear anyone’s thoughts as music pounded through his sound system.

walt: heading back to ny?

He heard the familiar buzz of Iphone as it sat in one of his cup holders. He knew who it was, so he didn’t bother answering him. Besides, he kept track of his whereabouts through the phone. It was their agreement, he stays away from him but he keeps track of where he goes. It was how their relationship worked for the last 500 years, and he intended on keeping it that way.

It wasn’t that he hated Walt, but he wanted his space, his chance to explore the world without someone breathing down his neck. Walt had taught him well enough to know the 3 cardinal rules like the back of his hand - avoid churches, avoid sunlight and most of all, avoid giving into blood lust. Walt always had a penchant of reminding him every now and then, but he would just dully agree.

He wouldn’t consider Walt a father per say - but he was the only person who cared for him, looked after him, made sure his flask was always filled to the brim with the liquid that sustained him. 

Besides, Walt was the one who turned him into the creature that he is today.

He chuckles at the memory, it’s still so fresh in his mind. He wonders what his life would have been if he hadn’t been turned that fateful night. But he was out drinking, and stumbled upon thieves who proceeded to beat him within an inch of his life. In 1500s Europe, no one would have batted an eye at him as he withered on the cobblestone, blood pooling from his mouth. 

But Walt did.

Walt found an 18 year old William Hargrove dying by his feet in a dark alleyway. He pitied the boy as he gasped for air, pleading to be sent to a medic. Walt scooped the boy into his hands and took him to his house, where he proceeded to turn him - into a vampire that is - and subsequently saved his life. 

He knew the responsibilities that came with turning someone into a vampire. Walt was constantly in tune with every emotion he felt - anger, sadness, pain - he felt a sense of fondness for him. Walt taught him everything he knew, how to properly feed, how to avoid getting caught, and how to harness his powers for the greater good, when he had to use them of course.

William then shed his name and became Billy, Billy Hargrove. Billy and Walt traveled all around the world, met fascinating people, pretty much saw history become history before their eyes, but they could never stay in one place for too long. People would become suspicious, people would start to talk, and that was the last thing they wanted.

Walt was one of the originals, Billy never asked how old Walt truly is, but he knows that Walt is old, very, very old. Walt was close with the Council - a high order of vampires who lived in the darkness within the streets of Rome. Billy swears that they were the first vampires created, hence why they have such a high importance within the community. 

Whatever they say goes, and if you go against with that they say, it’s your head. So when Walt and Billy decided to part their ways, Walt made sure that Billy knew the basic rules of being a vampire.

Walt hoped that Billy would never have to meet the Council - they were a terrifying bunch that looked more monstrous than human. They were cutthroat, void of any empathetic emotions. Any run in with them was never any good - if you were summoned before them you had better hoped that you came out of it alive.

Billy heard his phone buzz again, the two minute reminder that he still had an unopened text. He let out an exhale through his nose, grabbing the phone and unlocking it with his thumb. He opened the text, but when straight to the telephone icon, pressing the button then pressing the phone to his ear.

“Still in Indiana I see?”

Billy let out a soft chuckle, “Yeah, one of my favorite bands were playing in Indianapolis, I missed them in New York. Thought I’d make a trip out of it and drive over”

“Ah, I see. Was Peter a good host? Hope his guest coffin wasn’t too small”

“Pete was great - he’s a bit of a talker that’s for sure. Would not stop talking about the Renaissance period though, as if I haven’t lived through it as well” 

Walt laughed over the line, “Ah yes, he loves to bring up the Renaissance. Do you have a place to stay for the morning? I could ring up old friends nearby”

Billy glanced over at the clock in his car, it flashed 8:06, the night was still young, he’d figure something out.

“Nah, I’m good, I’ll hit you up if I can’t find anywhere though”

“Alright Billy - stay safe”

“You too Walt”

He promptly hung up the phone, placing it back into his cup holder. His eyes landed on the silver flask next to his phone. He wasn’t too hungry, Peter made sure that he left with his belly full, but a sip wouldn’t hurt. With the flick of his thumb, he removed the top, taking a swig of blood. As he placed the flask back down, he noticed signs for a nearby 7/11, he figured he could stop and pick up a pack of Marlboro's for the trip ahead. 

He made a sharp left down the road, driving down until the luminous sign for the convenience store appeared out of the darkness. He parked his car in the closest space and hopped out, stretching his legs and arms. He sauntered into the store, heading straight for the register.

A blonde girl whose eyes were attached to her phone didn’t notice his presence. She annoyingly smacked her gum, laughing softly at whatever was on her phone. Billy cleared his throat, hoping to get her attention. She held up a finger to him, which irritated him to no end.

When she finally glanced up at him, her eyes widened. 

Holy shit he’s fucking hot

He snickered at her thoughts. Since turning into a vampire, his complexion paled significantly, and it always was jarring for people to see him under fluorescent lights just how pale he actually was. Along with his baby blue eyes that popped, he was a sight for sore eyes. He knew the magnetism he had, he could charm the ladies with a wink and a smile. He had lost count how many lovers he had, but he was quite the expert in the sack.

“Hi. A pack of Marlboro’s please” he said, his voice came out like molasses, deep and rich. 

The girl fumbled with her phone, shoving it in her pocket and hastily grabbing the pack of cigarettes behind her. With shaking hands she placed the box on the counter, ready to ring him up. He grinned at her.

He gently placed his hand over hers. She was warm compared to his cold skin. She glanced up at him, he could feel her heart start to race erratically as he started to charm her.

“Listen, I uh, forgot my wallet at home, is it cool if I just take this from you?”

His blue eyes bored into her green ones. He stared at her intensely, until his eyes started to turn red. She was completely hypnotized, another victim of one of his powers. He could manipulate people to do anything he wanted and for right now, he wanted a free pack of cigarettes.

She nodded slowly, her face void of any emotion as he released her hand and swiped the cigarettes off of her. His eyes turned back to the familiar baby blue as he winked at her, breaking the spell. 

He turned his back towards her, starting to head back to his car when a shout stopped him in his track. He turned around, the girl at the counter leaned over with a soft smile on her face.

“Hey! Uhm, not sure what you’re doing tonight, but there’s a party going on, big Halloween bash, everyone in town is going to be there, maybe I’ll see you there?”

Billy pondered over it for a moment. He completely forgot that it was Halloween, being a vampire makes you lose track of time, and it’s not like he had to be in New York in the morning. He nodded at the girl, “Sure, what’s the address?”

He shuffled back over to the counter, retrieving the address from the back of an old receipt. He shoved it in his pocket and walked back into his car. As soon as he sat down, he pulled out the receipt and typed it into google maps. The house was located in the middle of the woods, and was only a few miles from here.

He revved up his car and pulled out of the 7/11 parking lot and towards the dark woods.

Little did he know how much this party would change the course of his life.

---

He arrived at the party, it was in full swing mode. His eyes scanned out the crowd that was outside the house and figured the rest of the party was inside the house. Everyone was in costume, except for him, but it wasn’t a problem. He glanced up at himself in his rear view mirror and opened his mouth. 

His canines promptly turned into sharp fangs. He brought his thumb up to his mouth and with a quick bite, blood expelled from his thumb. He dabbed a little bit of it in the corner of his mouth, creating the illusion of a vampire costume. It was simple disguise and no one would question it.

He stepped out of his car, and was met with loud blaring music that pumped loudly throughout the night. As he neared closer to the house, his mind was suddenly slammed with everyone’s thoughts. 

Most of them involving girls (and some guys) wanting to fuck him, while guys leered at him with contempt. He tuned out the thoughts as he entered the house, heading towards the punch bowl that he was sure contained jungle juice.

He poured himself a cup and scanned the crowd, leaning on a kitchen counter. Costumes were an abundance in every genre, horror, mythical, some straight up stupid, but when his eyes landed on you, the whole world suddenly came to a hard stop.

He wanted to laugh at how fate worked that night. You were in a tight black dress, fishnet stockings and heels. Your hair was curled to perfection and your lips with a bright ruby red. There were faint bite marks on your neck which he assumed were fake, and fangs sticking out of your mouth, which he then knew, that it was fake.

When you decided to go as a vampire, it was a last minute option. Your best friend let you borrow some make up and with a few touches, you looked like the mistress of the dark. You weren’t really into the whole dressing up thing anyways, the party was more of an opportunity to get drunk, maybe get high and just let loose.

Billy started to inch closer to you, focusing his attention on trying to read your thoughts.

But he was met with radio silence.

He frowned. This had never happened. He concentrated harder on you, but still, your thoughts were nowhere to be read.

His heart began to pound loudly, so loud he swore it drowned the music out. He suddenly felt a buzz in his pocket - it was Walt, he could sense him.

He pulled out his phone and read the text

walt: r u ok? i feel you panicking, is everything alright?

Billy took a large gulp of the jungle juice, trying to bring himself back down. He quickly typed back to Walt.

billy: i can’t read her thoughts, what does that mean walt? 

Billy heard rumors swirling around back in the 1800s of humans whose thoughts were unreadable to certain vampires. Walt had always said that if he encountered a human of such, to run away, far and quick. However, he never thought he’d encounter one at this party, let alone one ironically dressed as a vampire.

His phone instantly started to ring and Billy darted to the bathroom. He placed the phone in his ear and was met with an alarmed Walt.

“Billy, wherever you are, leave, now!” he barked at him.

“W-what’s going on ... I don’t understand, why can’t I read her thoughts. Why do I feel this way?” 

Billy heard Walt sigh loudly over the phone, he imagined him rubbing his temples in frustration.

“I never thought I’d see this day come ... but it was foolish of me to think otherwise. This typically happens with vampires, but ... she is a human, and that is rare, dangerous in fact” he quickly started to explain.

“What is it Walt?! Tell me!” Billy urged, his tone becoming more frantic.

“Billy, she is your Beloved. She is the one you’re destined to be with for the rest of your life ... but she is a human ... this is not good, not good at all. You need to come back to New York immediately” 

“W-what does it matter if she’s human?”

“Because if she rejects you ... you’ll turn into dust Billy. She is your soulmate. If your Beloved happened to be a vampire, it’s a whole other story, but she is human, and it’s dangerous. Your heart cannot handle the intense pain of being rejected by your Beloved” 

Billy stood quiet on the other line. His mind was racing a million thoughts, you were his soulmate, his other half. Walt had always told him that vampires who found their soulmates became stronger, so strong that they were able to withstand the heat of the sun. They became almost invincible because they had found their other missing half.

“Your powers won’t work on her Billy. It’s impossible - “

“No. I’m staying here” Billy cut him off.

“Are you mad?! You need to leave now!” Walt angrily exclaimed.

“Give me a week Walt. A week and I’ll have her fall in love with me” he paused, his mind going back to how the moment his eyes landed on her, how his heart felt like it could burst out of his chest, how he would drop everything in an instant to be with her, his mind, body and soul. She was the missing piece in his life, and he was determined to make sure she never left his side. “If she rejects me ... then I die, I can accept that”

“No! William! No!” Walt shouted. Billy flinched at the sound of his actual name, Walt only used it when he was either extremely pissed off at him, or in situations like these.

“This is my only chance Walt, my only chance to be with my soulmate. Please do not take this away from me”

Walt stood silent. Billy was his only ‘child’, his closest confidant and friend.

But if wanted to risk his life for a puny human, than so be it. Walt had taught him enough in his life to know right from wrong, the only thing he could do was support his choices.

“A week Billy. You have a week” he finally relented.

Billy let out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes and nodding, “Yes, a week. I promise I’ll bring her back with me to New York”

“Good luck dear friend”

Billy heard the other line go dead. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and walked back into the party, his eyes instantly scanning out for you.

But you were nowhere to be seen.

Billy crushed the cup in his hand, fuck.

He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on where to find you. He turned to the guy dressed up as Captain America, maybe asking around would help.

“Hey, Captain America! I’m looking for my friend, she has her [Y/H/C] hair in curls, wearing a tight black dress in fishnet stockings, she’s dressed as a vampire?” 

The guy in front of him pondered for a second, then it was like a light bulb went off, “Ah yeah! You mean [Y/N]!” he exclaimed.

The name was like a melodic song to his ears, Y/N.

“Yeah! Ha! Too drunk to remember her name” he jokingly pointed to his empty cup of jungle juice, but the guy didn’t seem to mind.

“Yeah I think she’s outside with the smokers, you can head on back that way” he used his head to point towards the back door where the rest of the party seemed to continue. Billy gave him a pat on his shoulder, a way to thank him for the information, and headed out the back door.

He then instantly spotted you, a cigarette dangling from your fingertips, your mouth opened as you let out a laugh. He swallowed thickly as he felt the world start to slowly freeze. Every step he took towards you felt like his feet were attached to cinder blocks. His emotions were thrown in a whirlwind and he instantly knew that you were the one for him, you were made to be his.

As he inched closer to your circle of friends, everyone stopped in their tracks. Sentences were cut short, the laughter suddenly stopped and all eyes were on him. You glanced up, [Y/E/C] met blue and you forgot how to breathe - as if all the oxygen in the world had been sucked up.

Everyone watched as he stood in front of you, ignoring everyone’s look of jealously as his eyes melted into yours. The ash on your cigarette began to burn but you didn’t care. Your whole attention was focused on this Adonis of a man in front of you - you had never seen him before but something told you that you knew him in a past life, like an old lover.

He towered over your small frame, delicately grabbing your hand and placing it into his large, pale ones.

Your skin burned into his, he was in so much pain but he didn’t care. He ached for you, he longed for you.

“Hey Y/N ... do you know his guy?” one of your friends asked, their eyes still attached to him.

You shook your head slowly as he raised your hand, placing it to his lips and planting a soft kiss.

“I - I ... I think I do?” the words stumbled out of your mouth as he smiled brightly, his fangs in full display. What a coincidence that he too was dressed as a vampire, you thought to yourself.

He was cold to the touch, but you didn’t pull away. 

“Hello Y/N” he said. You swore you had never heard a voice so rich, so seductive. You felt your cheeks turn red at the mention of your name, never had a man had an effect like this on you before. Even your friends were exchanging concerned looks.

Billy glanced around to the people circling around you.

“Leave”

Without blinking, they all quickly left, leaving the two of you alone in the backyard. You didn’t even bother to realize that your friends had left you alone with a stranger, but you didn’t care.

You shuffled your feet, nervously placing a piece of your hair behind your ear. “And you are?”

With your hand still in his, he placed his other hand on top of yours, feeling the warmth course through his body. He shivered slightly, squeezing your hand, “Billy, Billy Hargrove”

You nodded at him, your eyes still locked onto his. The whole world could have been thrown into chaos, but it didn’t matter, what only mattered was the two of you, in this moment. You opened your mouth to speak but the both of you were thrown out of the love trance by the jarring noise of your phone ringing incessantly.

You quickly pulled your phone from your chest (you had no pockets so you resorted to sticking it in your bra), and your eyes widened in fear at the time.

“Shit, shit, shit, I have to go, I’m sorry” you quickly spluttered out, throwing the cigarette down on the ground and reluctantly pulling away from Billy’s touch. He watched as your demeanor instantly changed at the sound of the alarm. Something wasn’t right.

Billy’s forehead puckered, before you could even dart at the back door he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back. “Where are you going? I can take you home”

You furiously shook your head, “No, please, listen, put your number in my phone, I’ll text you, just don’t come near my house, okay?”

You shoved your phone into his hand, prompting him to enter his number. Swiftly he entered his number, handing you back your phone. With a pained smile, you gave his hand a squeeze and before he knew it you disappeared into the crowd of people.

What you didn’t know was that Billy had every intention of following you home. In his eyes you were completely and utterly his, and seeing you panic at the sound of the alarm set off warning bells in his head. Someone or something had a hold over you and he didn’t like it one bit. He rushed through the crowd, reaching the front lawn just in time to see you pull out of the neighborhood in a black car.

He had a week, time was quickly ticking away.

But Billy had a plan, and Billy never loses.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction

[mystrangerfics]

18. for the fluff/general with Billy please!

Billy - 18 “Did I ever tell you how beautiful your eyes are? - fluff

Warnings: Blood & violence.

“So, did you like it?” Billy asked as his arm was draped over your shoulders. You had just left the movies and tonight was a good night. You both had nearly broken up a week ago, getting into a fight over Billy's lack of communicating. He had been upset with you but per his usual ways, he had been mad and just ignored you. When you had talked he was bitter and took it out on you. You had finally told him that he needed to work on himself or you couldn't do it anymore. You figured that was going to be the end of it, but he had called the night before to come over and you had talked finally, about everything.

“I thought it was pretty good,” you said honestly as you turned with Billy down the alley behind the theater. Billy always parked in the back, worried about someone hitting his car in the tight parking out front.

You got to Billy's car and he stopped, the way he looked at you brought a blush of uncertainty to your face. “What?”

“Nothing,” Billy said with this big, bashful smile that brought a huge grin to your face. “I'm just happy you forgave me,” Billy said with a little smile. He was confused when he saw you look passed him, confusion and worry in your eyes. Billy turned to follow your gaze before he felt pain at the back of his head that brought him to his knees. He only saw white as he heard you say his name and then let out a scared cry.

“Give me your fucking purse!” He heard someone holler. “Do it!” He heard you whimpering and his vision came back long enough to see you quickly handing your purse to the person in front of you.

Billy didn't think, he just acted, instantly lunging forward and grabbing the man. He wanted to pull him away, to keep you safe. It was at that moment you felt a jolt and a warmth covered your body before your blood ran cold. You slowly looked down and saw a hole in your white shirt before a streak of red ran down it and then another until it had a pooling circle of dark red around it. You gasped out shakily as your watering eyes slowly looked up to the man before you holding the gun. He was shocked, horrified as he hadn't meant to shoot you.

You suddenly felt a surge of dizziness and faintly heard Billy call your name before you met the hard ground. You whimpered out as pain filled your senses and you tried to stay aware.

Billy quickly crawled towards you as the man took off running down one of the alleys. “Baby?” Billy said, his voice full of fear and pain. “Kitten, look at me,” Billy pleaded as he scooped you up into his arms. Your body felt slack against him and it was like he couldn't breath.

It was at this moment he heard a loud gasp and saw another couple coming to the back of the theater. “Call the cops! Please! Hurry!” Billy screamed as he clutched you to him and the guy took off running as fast as he could, his girlfriend following behind him.

“Oh, god,” Billy whimpered as he looked down at you and the entire front of your white shirt was covered in blood. “Baby, I didn't see the gun. I'm so fucking sorry!” Billy told you as he began to sob. He pressed his forehead to your as your eyes blinked slowly.

“I-it's okay,” you managed to weakly gasp out. “I-I'm okay,” you tried but instantly whimpered in pain as your stomach ached.

“Please don’t leave me?” Billy pleaded with the saddest voice you had ever heard and it broke your heart. “I'm sorry that I always fuck up everything,” he rambled miserably. “I'm sorry that I always hurt you,” he cried. “You're the best thing in my whole world. Don't do this to me!” He quietly whimpered each word to you as you looked at him, your eyes growing hazy.

You wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault and that it would be okay but you couldn't get your mouth to say the words. You whimpered brokenly and leaned your face against him, breathing in his scent.

Billy heard sirens and lifted his head to the noise. “They're coming, baby,” he said, some hope returning to his voice. “Just stay with me.”

Every part of you wanted to just close your eyes and give up the fight but you couldn't leave him. You had so much more living to do with this boy and refused to leave him alone to try and pick up the pieces of himself.

Billy refused to leave your side the entire time, only letting go of your hand when you went into surgery and only because four doctors held him back. He sat in the waiting room for what felt like a lifetime and tears streamed down his face the entire time. People were staring at him as he sat in his leather jacket and bloodstained shirt, seeming dazed and broken.  

When your doctor finally came out, Billy had stood quickly from his chair. Upon seeing the man sigh out and give a small smile, Billy fell to his knees and sobbed. He didn't know what he had done to deserve to keep you but he was thanking anything that might have granted him this wish.

He stayed by your bedside while you rested and didn't leave for anything. When you finally shifted a little and opened your eyes he smiled, tears of joy forming in his own eyes. He didn't think he had ever cried so much in his entire life.

“Baby?” You asked, almost seeming confused.

“Yeah,” Billy whispered and gripped your hand in his. “I'm here,” he told you. He leaned close to you and pressed a small kiss to your lips. You smiled at him as your sleepy eyes fondly stared into his.

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful your eyes are?” Billy asked, so happy to see you awake.

You smiled at him, a warm blush coming to your cheeks. “No,” you said after a moment.

“I'm going to tell you that every day,” Billy whispered before pressing a kiss to your lips.

The nurse came in after a moment and checked your stomach, changing the bandages and you saw the guilt on Billy's face. You thanked the woman before looking to him.

“None of this is your fault, baby,” you said quietly after a moment. Billy kept his eyes down, frowning still. “You were trying to save me.” You saw him look at you, finally meeting your eyes again. “I love you,” you admitted, hoping he wouldn't freak out. You knew he was working on being more open but that didn't mean he was jumping in feet first.

Billy seemed to take in this information like a stonewall, showing nothing at first. It only took him a few moments to melt into himself again and his eyes watered before he carefully crawled into bed with you. He pulled you into him and held you close. “I love you too, baby,” he said into your hair before he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You felt his cheek rest against it and he sighed out, like he was finally calming. Everything felt perfect.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #mystrangerfics #my stranger fics #stranger things fic #fic request #ask request #prompt request #writing prompt

[fanfic-from-a-67-impala]

A Supernatural x Reader Story Chapter Thirty-Seven: Mother’s Little Helper

Word count: 4286

ASxRS Masterlist

Dean stands over a library table, inspecting books strewn over its surface, when you walk into the room, arms laden with notebooks of your own.

He barely glances up as you pass. “You’re up early.”

“You’re still up,” you say. “Find anything on Abaddon yet?”

He sighs. “Not yet. But I’m close.”

You set your papers and phones down on the other table and slide into a seat. “You don’t want to slow down a little? Get some sleep? Food?”

“I’m good.”

You open your mouth to argue but think better of it and lift the top of your laptop instead. Soon, you lose yourself in checking messages and catching up on cases.

“Well, that werewolf in Albuquerque was a breeze. How about a challenge this time?” Brian laughs into the phone.

“Remember, you asked for it,” you chuckle. “I’ve got missing brains in Grand Junction or choked-on-razor-blades in Flagstaff.”

“I’ll take witches for a thousand, Alex,” he says.

“Yeah, you got it.”

He starts to respond when Sam makes his way into through the war room, dressed in a jacket, a bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes land on you before he casts them away, his pace quickening toward Dean’s table.

You sigh. After almost two months, he’s barely spoken five words to you. You’ve wanted to apologize, but you can’t imagine that conversation going the way you’d like. So, you’ve been taking separate hunts, dancing around each other as best as possible.

“(Y/N)?”

“Uh, yeah, just be safe,” you say into the phone before clicking it off.

You strike your pen through the item on the list and dial another name on your phone. You finish leaving a voicemail when Dean’s voice drifts into your earshot.

“Why don’t you go with (Y/N)?”

You duck your head, considering if leaving the room now would make too obvious your dread of working a case with someone you can’t talk to.

Sam glares at his brother. “I think (Y/N)’s busy.”

Dean turns to you while Sam looks somewhere in your direction.

“He’s right, Dean. Why don’t you go? You could use a break from all this.” You gesture to the table in front of him. “I can take over.”

“I’m already on a roll. You two go.” He turns his head down and turns a page of the book in front of him.

When Sam doesn’t respond, you stand and flip your notebook shut. “I’ll get dressed.”

After hours of frigid silence, save the rumble of your car’s engine, the shadowy blue of the sky signals the early afternoon. You take the exit after crossing into Illinois.

“So, what are we after?” Your voice sounds foreign when you finally speak, almost surreal.

Sam clears his throat. “A first-grade teacher comes home and bashes in her husband’s brains. I’m thinking possession.”

“Why?”

“Papers didn’t mention a motive.”

You bite your lip. “Well, we know what lovers’ quarrels are usually about.”

He nods.

“Lying.” “Money.” The two of you speak at the same time.

You sigh, turning your eyes back to the endless road ahead.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

The Milton, Illinois sheriff leads the two of you through the fluorescent-lit office to the woman’s cell.

“It says here in your report that you were the first on the scene,” Sam says, and hands it to you so you can read through it.

“Yes, sir,” the sheriff answers. “I found Mrs. Young sitting next to her husband, covered in his blood.”

“And was he abusive?” you ask.

“Ric? Oh, no. Not at all,” he says. “I mean, he could be a stubborn S.O.B., but can’t we all?”

The two of you mumble in agreement.

“Anything else, uh, weird that maybe you felt was too odd to include?” Sam asks.

“Like?”

“Like, did you smell sulfur?”

The sheriff turns a corner and opens a metal door labeled, Cell Block. “Why would I smell sulfur?”

“Of course. Thank you,” Sam nods to the door the sheriff holds open for the two of you.

“Was there anything else that was strange? Maybe something off about her eyes?” you suggest.

“Actually, agent, they pretty much looked like eyes.”

He pauses in front of a cell, but his mouth drops open when he glances through the metal bars. “Oh, lord.”

A woman hangs from a pipe by a bloodied sheet. Her limp hands drip with blood, which has been painted along the pale green walls of the cell.

The sheriff leads you and Sam into a private office, where the three of you watch two men roll a body bag down the hall.

“I don’t get this,” the sheriff says, his tone somber now. “Karen and Ric were two of the most ordinary people you’d ever meet.”

“Did she go anywhere on the day of the murder?” Sam questions gently.

The sheriff squints. “It was Saturday. Uh, a quick trip to the grocery store – that’s about it.”

“Which store?” you ask.

“Uncle Ray’s, a few blocks down.”

After thanking the sheriff, you follow the coroner to the morgue while Sam visits the store.

He sits at the far end of the bar when you walk into the diner, the bell jingling above you.

“Hey,” you say, sliding onto the stool beside him. “Anything?”

He turns to face you. “Everyone who was working at the market that day says she acted perfectly normal when she was there. What about you?”

“No sulfur, no EMF, no… satanic symbols carved into her chest. I really don’t think this is our kind of thing.”

A woman in a light blue waitressing uniform sets a plate of salad in front of Sam and smiles at you from behind the counter. “Can I get you anything, sweetie?”

“Just a coffee, please,” you say.

“Sure thing.”

The bell above the door rings again as you turn back to Sam.

“So, we’re out of here, then?” you say.

He clenches his jaw. “I think we should stay in town the night. If nothing comes up, we leave.”

You open your mouth to object but decide against it. “All right, if you think–”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Across the bar, a teenage boy glowers at the waitress who poured you a cup of coffee without you noticing.

“Hey,” Sam exclaims. “Take it easy. She’s working hard.”

The waitress approaches the boy again from where she drew back. “What’s eating you?”

He raises a hand to shove a nearby glass off the edge of the counter. “You, my mom–” he directs his scowl to Sam – “him.”

“Whoa,” you warn him, your voice low. “Cool it.”

He meets your glare with a chilling darkness in his eyes before the waitress pulls his attention away.

“Billy?” she tries. “Billy, I’m going to call your mom, have her come fetch you.”

The corners of his mouth turn upward in a wicked smile. “No, you’re not.”

He forces her palm to the counter and shoves a steak knife through the back of her hand.

Sam jumps to subdue him while you run behind the counter to where the woman’s screams fade to a whimper.

She yelps again as you pull the knife from the wooden counter and wrap a towel around the blade and her hand.

Billy continues to glare at you and Sam from behind the metal bars of the holding cell. In the cell across from his, a woman sits on the bed, humming softly. Repeated clangs echo through the cell block from where a man batters his bloody forehead against the bars.

The sheriff leads the two of you into the hallway.

“What’s going on here, Sheriff?” you ask.

“I was hoping you’d tell me,” he says. “You’re the ones who mentioned weird.”

“Now, where did they all come from?” Sam questions.

“Oh, they're all locals. Four of the straightest arrows you'd ever meet. Apparently, they've been acting like this for days.”

“Do they share anything in common?” Sam tries. “Church? School? Uh, book club?”

The sheriff shakes his head. “Not to my knowledge. Oh, I met the kid’s girlfriend. She says he was hitching a ride when a van picked him up and that’s the last she heard of him.”

A deputy swings the door open and holds a phone out to the sheriff, who excuses himself.

“You got any ideas?” you ask Sam.

He shrugs. “I’ve never seen this before,” he admits. “Maybe a spell?”

“No hex bag, no motive – doesn’t really smell like a witch,” you note. “What do we know that’s violent and impulsive?”

Sam frowns in a disturbed way. “Me.”

“Sorry?”

“Soulless me,” he clarifies. “The littlest things would set me off. Everything I did – it was… pure instinct.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t kill anybody,” you say.

He doesn’t respond, but he turns his gaze downward, his eyes somewhere else completely.

You clamp your lips, wishing you could take back the words. Of all the tales the boys recounted to you from while you were in Hell, Sam’s soullessness was a time they spoke about in little detail. You assumed he couldn’t have done anything so unspeakable, but you realize now you were wrong.

He shoves his hands into his pockets. You feel almost glad you never had to see the world without his gentle soul.

“Either way, these people are,” you say, finally, “so we’ve gotta figure out who’s playing Grand Theft Soul. I’ll go down to the hospital and talk to the waitress.”

“I’ll talk to Billy.” He gestures to the cells.

You nod and turn to leave, but you pause to call over your shoulder. “Don’t forget to test him.”

• • • • • • • • • • • •

You return to the sheriff’s office with nothing more than what you could have guessed, that Billy was a “good kid.”

At the station, Sam sits at a table with an older red-haired woman. He waves you over when you catch his eye.

“My partner, (Y/N),” he explains to the woman before turning to you. “This is Julia Wilkinson. She was in Milton when the Men of Letters came here.”

Your eyes go wide. “The Men of Letters?”

Julia nods. “They were here in 1958. I was a nun. They came to investigate my convent.”

“What were they investigating?”

“The demons,” she says.

You glance at Sam, and he nods once.

“They carved a symbol into the wall,” she continues. “The woman, Josie, translated it to ‘Knights of Hell.’”

“Knights of Hell,” you repeat under your breath. “Wait a second – Josie Sands?”

“And Henry Winchester,” Sam adds.

You lower yourself onto the seat on Julia’s other side, your head beginning to ache with the new information.

“I’m not sure of anything I saw that night,” she says. “We couldn’t leave our room after ten – Mother Superior forbade it. But I heard noises outside. She was dragging a girl down the stairs. Her eyes were… black. And then Sister Agnes found me and hit me over the head. I woke up in a dark place, tied to a chair. There were others. They were taken, one by one. I was so scared. I prayed and prayed, but God didn’t answer my prayers. Henry and Josie did. They chanted something, and the demons left, except for one of them. She said her name was Abaddon. She possessed Josie.”

“Abaddon,” you say.

“Did you ever see exactly what she was doing down there?” Sam asks her.

Julia shakes her head no. “But whatever it was she was doing at St. Bonaventure, it seems to be happening again.”

Sam’s gaze drifts down to the file of papers on the table. “The convent’s name was St. Bonaventure?”

“Yes.”

He opens the file and slides a picture across the table to you. “Surveillance images from the grocery store the day Karen Young was there.”

In the picture, a dark van sits parked in front of the store, white lettering on the back. St. Bonaventure.

“Where’s this convent?” you ask.

“On the outskirts of town,” Julia answers. “It’s been closed for years.”

“Let go of me!” A shout rings through the station.

Three deputies barely restrain a girl, no older than Billy, who kicks and screams so forcefully the deputies have lifted her feet off the ground.

“No! He tried to kill me! Get your hands off me!” she screams.

As they walk past the table where the three of you sit, you see her fingers are stained with blood. She meets your eyes and glowers in a way that sends a chill down your spine.

“All right, we’ve got to wrap this up,” Sam tells you once they have passed. “Why don’t you check that out–” he nods at the door where the deputies took the girl– “and I’ll head to the convent?”

As he rises from his chair, you stop him. “You’re not going down there alone.”

“I can handle it. It’s just a demon,” he says.

“Demons – plural. Working for Abaddon,” you retort. “When has that ever been a sure thing?”

He glances around the room, eyes landing on the door again. “Look, it’ll be fine. Just find out what happened here.” He turns to Julia. “Thank you for your help.”

“Sam–” Before you can continue, he brushes past you toward the entrance of the office.

You huff out a sigh. Does he really hate you so much that he’d rather face a Knight of Hell alone than with you?

“He’ll come around, you know,” Julia says.

You lean your hands against the back of your vacated chair. “You think so?”

“Guys like him always do.” She takes a sip of her tea.

“Oh, we’re not, um…”

“I know, hon. Doesn’t mean he won’t come around.”

You force a smile as you consider her words. “Why don’t you hang around the station until we sort this out?” you suggest. “You’ll be safer here.”

She nods, and you leave her to follow the girl toward the cell block.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

“Deputy,” you call when you see the woman who alerted the sheriff to a phone call earlier.

“Agent,” she says. “Thank god you’re still here.”

You nod to block. “What’s her story?”

“That’s Caroline Maxwell. She’s a high school senior, a bright kid. The sheriff’s pretty broken up about it,” she notes.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, he’s the one she attacked,” she explains. “No warning, nothing. Just started clawing his eyes out, from what I hear.”

“You weren’t there?”

“No, no one was. Except the sheriff, that is.”

“And where is he now?”

She checks her watch. “He should be getting back from the hospital any minute now.”

You thank her before heading into the cell block, where Caroline clutches the bars from behind.

“Please, you have to help me,” she begs when she sees you. “I’m innocent.”

“Then why is the sheriff saying you attacked him?” you question.

“He attacked me. I was defending myself,” she claims. “Why won’t anyone believe me?”

“Maybe because you got off without a scratch,” you remark.

She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “No. He did something. I don’t understand how…”

You follow her hand with your eyes as she clutches the fabric at her stomach. You look around at the inmates filling the other cells, noticing how she stands out from the rest.

“Caroline?” you say, gentler this time, “I’m Agent Tanner. I need you to tell me exactly what happened.”

Her shoulders relax a little when you speak, her eyes hopeful. “He shoved his hand in my stomach. It was excruciating. I started fighting him off and he let go, and then some officers found us. When they pulled me away, there was no blood or anything.”

You watch as she traces her fingers along her stomach, anticipation making your heart pound.

“Oh, god, what was that?” she cries, tugging at fistfuls of her hair.

You don’t answer before you dash out of the cell block and to the front door of the station. As you pass the table where you talked with Julia and Sam, you stop in your tracks.

Her empty chair is pushed away from the table, her mug of tea gone.

You rush to the front desk, panic in your voice. “Where is she? Ms. Wilkinson.”

The man behind the counter gives you a blank look. “Who?”

“The woman who was just here,” you gesture to the table. “Red hair, green eyes, purple hat?”

“Oh, the sheriff took her to the break room. What–”

You don’t hear the end of his question before barrelling through the station in the direction he pointed. You skid to a stop when you catch sight of a microwave in the corner of a room.

“(Y/N),” a voice hisses.

The sheriff clutches Julia’s back to his chest, holding a gun to her head. The shiny star pinned to his chest contrasts the black of his eyes.

He flicks his finger, and the door behind you slams shut.

“Nice of you to join us.”

You feel the weight of the angel blade in the inner pocket of your blazer, but you don’t dare reach for it.

The mug of tea Julia had earlier has shattered to the floor at her feet. She whimpers, grasping shakily at the arm he holds to her chest, but to no avail.

“Abaddon remembers you. Sister Julia,” the demon taunts her. “You know, she wanted to thank you for keeping her secret for all these years.” He scoffs. “If she could see you now…”

“Let her go,” you say.

“Can’t do that, dear. The boss wants her. Thinks she’ll make a nice addition to the collection. Well, her soul, anyway,” he smirks.

“What does Abaddon want with souls?”

“Souls mean power,” he snaps. “And she needs power if she’s going to beat Crowley to the throne. She figures, if you can’t win over the lowlife masses, make new ones – Quiet!”

Julia’s frantic eyes meet yours as the demon presses a hand to her mouth, stifling her whimpers. You try to reassure her with a nod, but your mind races with fear for her.

“She’s creating demons with the souls.”

“An army of demons,” he corrects. “And it’s not just here. We’ve got a chain of factories, well, pretty much everywhere.”

The thought of those demons cranking out soul after soul makes you pause.

“What do you want?” you spit.

He removes his hand from her mouth to reach into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, which he tosses to you.

“It’s a list of towns where Abaddon has people collecting souls. I want you and your boyfriend to put this town in your rearview go after them instead. And in return–” he replaces his hand on Julia’s mouth– “I won’t rip her soul from her body.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Wait, you… you want us to stop you?”

“No, not me,” he sighs. “We’re are working for the future queen of Hell, but only a couple of us can be her right-hand men. Think that gig’s going to the ones who’re barely scraping souls from the bottom of this small town barrel?”

“This is a popularity contest to you.”

“It’s a battle,” he snaps. “And I plan on coming out on top. So, do we have a deal?”

You glance down at Julia again, at the fear in her eyes, the muffled moans from behind the hand over her mouth. You scan the names of towns on the paper in your hand.

“We skip town, and you let her go,” you confirm. “Deal.”

He smiles contentedly, releases Julia, and holsters his gun. She stumbles forward until her back is against the wall across the room, shoulders still shaking.

The demon smirks at her but marches away toward the door.

As he passes, you shove his shoulder against the wall and stab your angel blade through his hand.

He shouts in pain, his screams swelling as you start an exorcism.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

Another uneasy silence fills the car on the drive back to the bunker. Sam has his hand on the handle of his door before you’ve pulled into the stall in the garage.

“Sam, wait,” you say.

You half expect him to open the door and continue on into the bunker, pretending he didn’t hear you. He pauses as if considering it, too. And when he turns to you, eyes expectant, you almost wish he did.

Your mouth feels like cotton, and you hear the pounding of your heart in your ears.

“We hunt witches,” you say. “I know that. But this feels right.”

He doesn’t look away, but you can’t read his expression.

You clear your throat. “I feel more like me than I’ve felt in a long time, and you can hate me for it, but–”

“You think that’s what this is about?” he says. “I don’t hate you, (Y/N). I don’t hate that you became a witch.”

“Then, why…” you murmur.

He swallows. “When I didn’t have anything, when I couldn’t even trust my own brother, I thought I could trust you.”

You open your mouth to respond, but you have no words. He has every right to be upset after the hell he went through with Gadreel.

He sighs. “You’ve been my best friend since we were kids. I keep thinking I can trust you, and then you just… leave.”

His words punch you in the stomach, but you keep your face steady. “I, uh, I get it.”

“But you don’t,” he says. “You don’t know what it’s like to have to say goodbye to you over and over with no notice, no way of knowing you’re okay. And I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” you prod when he trails off.

He slumps his shoulders. “I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

When you don’t respond, he pushes the door open and climbs out of the car.

You slump back in your seat, eyes wide, trying and failing to form a complete thought. When you can’t, you follow him across the garage and into the bunker.

Dean, who sits at the same table you left him, eyes the both of you as you walk past.

“Hey,” he greets. “You two back in the swing of things?”

You turn to Sam, but you only see his back as he rounds the corner out of the room.

Dean gives you a sympathetic gaze, and you shrug as you plod over to his table.

“This mean you’re taking off again?” he asks.

You shake your head. “I can’t run,” you sigh. “Not now, not from this.”

The thought crossed your mind more quickly than you would have liked to admit, but nothing – not even tense glances, six hours of deadly silence, and solo hunts – is worth losing Sam again.

“I have to stay and make things right.” You look to Dean, almost for confirmation.

He drags his eyes away from the books below him to look at you and nods before turning back.

“How’d Mrs. Manson go?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“The possible possession in Illinois.”

“Oh, um,” you mumble, “it was a… demon thing.”

You feel the understatement slip through your lips, but there would be time later to tell him what went down.

“You get any sleep while we were gone?” you question.

He rubs a hand down his face, eyes not leaving the pages. “I caught a few winks.”

You reach over and fix the upturned collar of the same blue shirt he wore when you left. “Liar.”

He shrugs, making no move to leave.

You run a hand through your hair, studying sagging of his shoulders and the dark circles under his eyes.

“All right,” you hum.

You close the flap of the folder in front of him, and he snaps up to glare at you. You raise your eyebrows.

“Abaddon doesn’t sleep,” he says. “Until we know where she is, neither can I.”

“Abaddon’s not human.”

“If we don’t find a way to kill her, she’s not getting killed,” he insists.

“It doesn’t have to be today.”

“You’re right. It should’ve been last week.”

You cross your arms over your chest, bending down to force him to meet your eyes. “You’re not going to get her on an empty tank.”

After a hard stare, he breaks the gaze, sighing.

“Come on, tough guy.” You tug at his shoulder, pulling him out of his chair.

He drags his feet down the hallway. “This is payback, isn’t it?”

“One good turn…” you remark.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters.

As he stumbles into his room, he kicks off his shoes and shrugs off the blue button-down, revealing the flared red Mark.

You swallow. The Mark sends a chill up your spine whenever you catch a glimpse of it. It forces you to confront the real reason he wants so badly to find Abaddon: bloodlust.

“You going to stand there all night? Not that I mind,” he adds with a wink.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Good night.”

“‘Night,” he answers as you trudge down the hallway.

His door closes, though, and you pause. You’ve done right by at least one of your boys today, but what about tomorrow? Next week?

You reach into your pocket and pull out the folded piece of paper, the list of towns scratched onto it in black ink, and find it weighs as much as lead.

Your first instinct says to take it and run, to flee from your problems here and hunt these things down alone. It would be easy enough.

But you made a promise, to Dean and to yourself. You’ll stay and make this right if it takes years.

You sneak into the library again, leaving the unfolded paper on the table.

#Supernatural #Supernatural x reader #Spn x reader #Spn #Supernatural fanfic #Spn fanfic #series #A Supernatural x Reader Story #writing is hard

[foggyhoundbiscuitskeleton]

I listened to the beating od Billie’s heart, as it helped calm me and made me fall in love even harder. I listened to her heart for about three hours, before finally drifting off to think about Billie in my dreams.

I woke up the next morning to see that Billie was gone, but her side of the bed was still warm, I cuddled with her pillow, before scrolling through Tik Tok. I was only two videos deep, when a video bashing me came up and I quickly swiped off the app, I got on Instagram next, that was a bad idea. All my comments on my photos were either hate comments or death threats, I let out a gasp reading them. “You should kill yourself,” “Billie could do better then you, your trash,” “I hope you and your family dies!” They went on and on, I felt hot tears come pouring down my cheeks the more I read them, and I had to throw my phone across the room to stop. I got up and paced the room, trying to decide what to do, my mind was racing too with every step I took. I finally decided that I would take a hot shower, as that seemed to help cure any issue I had. Once, I got out of the shower and put the nice hotel robe on, I walked out of the bathroom and saw Billie sitting on the bed.

“So, I have a surprise for you!”

“Ummmm....ok, what is it?” I asked curiously.

Billie pulls a thin red letter from behind her back and hands it to me. I take the letter and observe it, as I try to figure out what it is.

“Well, go on and open it!”

“I’m just trying to take a mental guess of what it is.” I reply.

“Screw a mental guess, just open it!”

I open the letter and before my eyes, I held two VIP backstage passes to Taylor Swift’s concert in Dallas, which was the next city we were going too. I stood standing still from shock as I processed getting to meet my second mother, I was speechless, I never had someone give such a nice gift.

“Do you like it?”

“Like it, I freaking love it, thank you, thank you, thank you!” I cheer.

I run over and wrap my arms around Billie in a big bear hug, while I preceded to pepper her face with kisses. She giggles as I kiss her cheek over and over, and a big smile spreads across my face.

“You really shouldn’t have!” I note.

“Well, I know how hard yesterday was for you and I wanted to do something nice and relaxing for you, because you deserve it.”

“Awwwww........I love and appreciate you....I also would love to go to that concert.” I reply nervously.

Billie hopped in the shower to get ready for her sound check, we wanted to cancel today’s show, but it would look really sus, and we couldn’t have that right now. I couldn’t risk going to the show and being attacked so I decided to stay at the hotel during the concert, but I would watch Billie do her soundcheck. I left my phone of the floor and turned on the t.v. and watched a Dave Chappelle comedy show on Netflix, as comedy shows always cheer me up. Billie got out of the shower lookin fine as fuk, she was dressed in a lime green Gucci track suit with red Jordan's, and these big boxy black sunglasses. She walked over to me and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

“Are you coming to my soundcheck?”

“Yeah, I’m going to put some clothes and call my mom, then I’ll be down.” I answer.

“Ok, well I’m going to order some food what do you want?”

“Where are you ordering from?” I ask.

“Depends on what kind of food you want.”

“Can we get cheeseburgers? "I question.

“Of course, baby, I’ll go ahead and order them, so don’t take too long.”

“Ok, love you!” I say as I kiss her.

“Love you too!”

I quickly put some grey Nike sweatpants on and one of Billie’s oversized anime shirts, I think it was a Death Note character, but I wasn’t sure. I grab my phone from off the floor and call my mom, she picked up in a tired tone, I forgot there was a four-hour time difference and it was currently 12pm.

“Hello, Y/N.”

“Hey, mom what’s going on.” I smiled.

“It’s 8am, so not much I just woke up.”

“Sorry mom, I forgot about the time difference, but it’s nice to hear your voice!” I laughed.

“It’s nice to hear yours too, you need to call more, I miss you Y/N!”

“I know, I’ve been busy lately, also mom don’t get on social media ok?” I said.

“Why, what happened?”

“Well, I’m currently being bashed, because I’ve been romantically connected with Billie.” I hesitated.

“Romantically connected, did a sex tape get leaked or,”

“Jesus no mom!” I cut her off.

“It’s a long story that I don’t really feel like talking about, but another type of video got leaked and now people think Billie and I are together.” I huffed.

“First I’m your mother I need to know about the other things, second are you two......together?”

“Um....no....yesssss actually!” I mumbled.

“Ok, well this is a..... surprise... but a good one, well when do I get to meet her?”

“I’m not really sure yet, but she got me Taylor Swift concert tickets for Dallas, which is our next city.” I hummed.

“That sounds like fun, but I want to meet her, also I want to know what else you did!”

“Chill mom, you can meet her when we go to Florida, you can fly down and stay with Aunt Lizzy, also I’ll have to call you back and tell you all about my touring experience, I have to go and do work right now!” I rush.

“Ok, well I guess I’ll go ahead and take off for work then, and I’ll be expecting that call later.”

“Ok, love you, have nice day!” I replied.

“Love you too, stay out of trouble, ok Y/N, also tell Billie I said hi.”

“Will do bye!” I said.

After my call, I made my way to the arena to watch Billie practice. Lucky the arena was two blocks down from the hotel so I just walked. I showed my ID to the security guard and walked backstage and found Zoe sitting tweeting something.

“Hey, what’s up.” I asked.

“Oh, hey Y/N I didn’t see you sorry, I was just tweeting.”

“Yeah, what about?” I questioned.

“Nothing just bashing some Danielle fans, for talking shit, they deserve it!”

“Oh, sounds like fun, I got on Tik Tok this morning then cried, some people were bashing me.” I whispered.

“Aw Y/N, I’m sorry, I know that sucks the first time it happens, but after the third you stop giving a fuck, fuck them haters, they can suck your dick!”

“Thanks Zoe, that was really inspirational, I feel better, moved actually.” I grinned.

“Shut up before I go on Twitter and bash you, whore!”

I flipped Zoe off then ask, “Anyway, where’s Billie?”

She points, "Go down that hall, turn left, and that is the entrance to the stage, she’s warming up.”

“Thanks” I respond.

“No problem.”

Zoe goes back to staring at her phone and I speed walk down the hall to see my queen. I get the entrance and peek my head out, there I saw Billie looking beautiful as ever singing her heart out as she swayed on her feet. The stag lights gave her face a natural glow, along with making her eyes twinkle.

“What is it about him, he must be doing something.”

I listen to her finish her song, sneakily listening from the hall, she was the best singer I’ve ever heard live, that was of course until I go to see Taylor, but still she sounded angelic. She finishes her set and I walk out on stage to greet her.

“Hey baby, how is your mom?”

“She’s good, she said hi, is the food here I’m starving?” I ask as I wrap me arms around her waist and kiss her on the nose. Billie was a little bit shorter than me, with her being 5’3 and me at 5’6, even though I was taller I still felt like the baby of the relationship.

“It should be here, I got you extra fries too!”

“Thank you, well let’s go eat.”I said.

We devoured our food and chatted as the time grew closer for Billie to preform. I knew Billie was nervous about the meet and greet that was at 4, two hours before the concert that way she would have plenty of time to meet everyone. Once, 3 rolled around Billie put the final touches on her outfit, adding some gold chains and putting her hair in some space buns. I watched in aw as she got ready, she was so beautiful!

“Can I do your makeup?” I asked.

“What?”

“Can I do your makeup, if not it’s ok, your just so pretty and I want to highlight some of that!” I whisper.

“Of course, baby, make me look pretty!”

“Your already pretty, let me grab my makeup bag.” I respond.

I sat Billie down in a chair, I started off by adding some blush to her face to give her a flushed, cute look. Then I added some highlight to make her sparkle, and lastly, I added a little eyeshadow for some dramatic effect.

“Well, what do you think?” I question.

“Damn, I might have to hire you to do my makeup!”

“I don’t know I already do your behind-the-scenes work.” I joke.

“What’s one more thing then.”

Billie leans forward and kisses me, then she looks deep into my eyes and tells me, "So, I know it’s been a hard two days, and I know you don’t want to come to the concert, but I need you to be here for the last song ok?”

“I never said I wouldn’t come, I can stay backstage and listen to you, I just don’t wanna be anywhere near the crowd.” I replied.

“Ok, well I need you to be here for the last song.”

“Why?” I ask.

“You’ll see it’s a surprise!”

“Ok!” I laugh.

I decided while Billie was doing her meet and greet, I would go back to the hotel and nap, since I was still tired from all the traveling we’ve been doing. I give her one final kiss, and start my way back to the hotel. I wake up from my nap and feel a lot better, I decide to make myself look more presentable since I have a surprise waiting for me. I put on a purple flannel that I didn’t button but tie instead, along with a pair of tight black jeans, and checker boots. I curl my hair and put on some makeup, adding a little spray of perfume too. I was too scared to walk over and be recognized, so I called Zoe to come pick me up instead. She gets to the hotel, and we drive back to the arena.

“Soooo, are you excited for tonight, because you look super hot and you never look like this?”

“I mean, I’m a little nervous, but I’ll be ok, I would feel a lot better if you told me the surprise.” I smirk.

“No, I don’t even know what it is, only Fineas does, and good luck getting it out of him.”

“Fine!” I huffed.

I got backstage in time to give Billie a good luck kiss and see her walk on the stage.

“I’m excited for you to see your surprise!”

“I’m nervous now!” I gasp.

“Don’t be your gonna love it!”

Billie turned and ran onto the stage. I watched her give her opening speech then preform a couple of her songs before walking back to the lounge. Fineas and Zoe laid sprawled out, making little conversation with each other as they watched the screen that showed Billie’s performance. I sat doen beside Zoe picking her feet up to make room for me.

“God Zoe your feet sink!” I gag.

“Your stupid they do not, they literally spell delicious I’ve been told so.”

“You're fucking disgusting!” I sass.

Zoe sticks out her tongue as I make a gagging face.

“You two aren’t right man!”

Zoe and I die laughing! I chat with Zoe and Fineas as Billie pushes through her performance, absolutely killing it as always! That’s when she finally announces, “I have a special song I’d like to sing tonight it means a lot to me and someone else who’s in my life. I wrote this last night and finished it up this morning, it’s called Everything I Wanted.”