#and these two bullet points honestly get most of my thoughts across

[zombiekooo]

❗️S M U T ! Honestly just filthy. Cunninglings, blowjobs, dominant reader, submissive Daryl, vaginal sex. You name it. Complete NSFW ❗️(also on a03– titled Ride Along)

Rick doesn’t want to risk accepting new people into the prison. Daryl sees no threat in one lone woman.

It was late. Far later for a lady like you to be walking these streets, Daryl thought.

How’d he spot you? He asks himself the same damn thing. You were dressed in a black cloak like some bandit, a bag nearly twice the size of you on your back, and a silver gun in your right hand. Maybe it was the shine the gun gave from the car’s headlight’s that caught his attention. Or maybe it was the glisten of your eyes, peering beneath the hood you wore ever so slightly. It didn’t matter.

All he knew was that there was a woman alone in these woods without an idea that the direction she was heading was straight into the hands of walkers.

“Rick, stop the car.” Daryl says, already unbuckling his belt.

Rick slows down, confused. He hadn’t seen you until Daryl pointed you out— walking the opposite direction from the car and ignoring them completely.

“Daryl, we’re not taking anyone into the prison right now.” Rick replies, picking up speed once again, but Daryl was already out of the car and jogging towards you, leaving Rick with no choice but to stop the car completely.

“Hey, you!”

You pause. He notices the way you clutch your gun, your arm trembling and the way your chest fell unevenly. You turn around apprehensively, eyes wide and scared.

“Hey there, m’not gonna hurt you.” Daryl lowers his crossbow, comfortable with the distance the walkers had from you.

“I don’t have anything valuable,” You reply, a distinct quiver in your voice. “Don’t make me use up my bullets.” You point the gun at him.

Rick got out of the car, which startled you enough to nearly lose grip of the gun. Your eyes dart from one to the other, going through the options you have to escape.

“We ain’t here to collect any of your stuff. Just concerned is all,” Daryl says, lifting his free arm above him. “We want to know if you’re okay.”

“I am fine.” You’re quick to reply.

Rick comes up behind Daryl to get a better look at you.

“She says she’s fine. C’mon now, let’s go.” He says,

“Nah, nah. I ain’t leaving just yet. She looks too young to be round’ here alone.” Daryl takes a couple steps closer, just enough to get a decent look at your face.

You were young, younger than he was for sure, but most likely in your mid twenties. Your wide eyes full of terror made you seemed younger from a distance. Like a bunny about to be scavenged by wolves.

His eyes dart down to your hand that held the silver gun. It’s oozing blood out from the darkness of your cloak, and pooling at your fingertips, sullying the silver gun.

“We’ve got a camp not too far from here. There’s people who’d be happy to look at that wound of yours.” He says, confident in taking another step closer. When he sees that you don’t back away, he takes another.

“And what do you expect out of all this? Is this just the kindness from your heart?” You sneer. You’re having trouble keeping grip of the gun. It has become slippery with your blood.

“You ain’t gotta take the offer, but if I were you, I’d get that injury treated before them walkers begin to smell it.” Daryl shrugs. He’s close enough to be able to take the gun from your hands but, he’s too afraid to make any daring move in case you get spooked.

He sees the fear fan across your face for a split second.

Rick seems to have given up on getting Daryl to think otherwise.

“We got lots of women your age at the camp. They’d be happy to see another kind face.” Rick elaborates.

You step back the moment Rick takes another step. You hesitantly return your gaze to Daryl. You watch how he extends his hand.

“There’s no reason a lady like you should be walking these streets.”

————

You end up in the backseat of the van behind Daryl. You’re still hesitant about leaving with the two men, but you seem to have run out of options. Your arm throbs and you feel fresh blood slither down your forearm. You had broken the lousy stitches you had done with your non-dominant hand when drawing your gun.

“That isn’t a walker bite, is it?” Rick asks from behind the wheel, glancing at you through the mirror.

“No. Got caught on some barbed wire.” You reply vaguely.

Rick hums in response.

“Where were you headed? Down where we came from there was a huge herd of walkers. We had just grazed it when coming back.”

You frown. You had no idea that was such a red zone.

“Nowhere.” You rasp.

Rick decides that it was no use getting anymore information from you, so he turns to Daryl.

Daryl sighs and stretches, turning around the car seat and looks at you.

“How many walkers have ya’ killed? People?”

You eye him carefully, but you trust him more than the other, considering that he was the one who insisted on helping you in the first place.

“I haven’t killed many. Maybe two dozen of what you call ‘walkers’. I’m not good with a gun, only killed when I had too.” You say.

Daryl nods, looking back at Rick for guidance. You see him nod and persuade him to continue.

“What bout’ people?”

Daryl sees you hesitate for a moment. Closing your mouth, opening it, then shutting it again.

“I only killed someone before they could turn.” You say, quieter than before.

Daryl nods and turns back around, slouching in his seat.

“Seems pretty harmless to me.” He says to Rick.

Rick says nothing, only giving you one last glance through the mirror before turning his attention to the road.

————

Daryl walks you to his cell before introducing you to the group. He attempts to take your bag from your shoulders to set it next his belongings, but it has you instinctively yanking it back.

“Sorry,” You mumble under your breath, a bit frazzled from trying to adapt to people who aren’t dead.

Daryl nods, giving a sympathetic look. He gestures to the empty space next to the bed for you to place your bag.

“For now, Rick says he wants an eye on you. An’ since I was the one insistin we bring you, M’left with the responsibility.” He says, a lighthearted smirk peeking through the light dusting of hair on his face. But it quickly dissipates when the gears in his brain start shifting.

“Unless, y’know, you’d feel more comfortable with a lady friend—“

“No, please. I’d like you to stay.”

Daryl pauses. He’s leaning against the open cell door, his hand curled into a fist. He still has his crossbow with him, seated on his back. He holds himself steady as if the crossbow weighed nothing to him. He seems a bit taken aback by your quick response.

You drop your bag, placing your knives and guns onto the table beside the bed, glancing at Daryl, and sliding them towards him.

“If I am being completely honest, I haven’t been around people for a few months.” You sit on the bed, glancing at the few shirts draped over the side of the bed. It’s his cell, you realize. “I’d like to stay with you for awhile, if you don’t mind.”

Daryl rubs the back of his neck. The way you said that made his heart skip a beat. He glances over your face, no longer covered by the cape. You were attractive and well spoken. Probably from a family that took good care of themselves— educated. Unlike him. He hadn’t had a clue why you felt comfortable with him. If he was in your shoes, he’d prolly be sceptical of himself, bringing a girl alone in his cell.

“M’fine with that. Rick said I hadda ask you a few questions anyways.” He says. He’s overly aware by the new scent of you mingling in his room. He becomes too conscious about the way he smells. Dirty. Like an animal. You probably think he looks like one too.

“I understand. I assume your leader wants my weapons. I don’t have much.” You shrug, and unclasp your cape. Daryl’s gaze flickers to your arm, the bleeding has slowed, but it needed medical attention. Earlier, you had insisted to rest before heading over to get it looked at.

“Alright then. What’s ya’ name? What’s ya’ life story?” He asks, deciding to ignore your wound for now.

You’re quiet for a moment, collecting your thoughts.

“Reader. I was raised a lone child. Parents worked in the E.R, so when shit hit the fan, they were contaminated quickly. I was 21 when it happened—never was taught how to use a gun or weapons, so I got lucky and survived by finding a group.” You stop, hesitating your eyes flickering up at his face then back to your hands.

“They were all young though, made reckless decisions. Didn’t last long. Soon it went from a dozen people, to just me.” You finish, purposely vague.

Daryl nods. You talk as if you’re weak, but to be surviving this long in an apocalypse took more than just a strong group.

“That’s pretty shitty.” Daryl says,

“Yeah, suppose so. Haven’t really been able to survive without relying on others.” You half laugh half scoff.

“You can’t survive without relying on others.” Daryl points out.

You nod. “Sort of just rode along. Grabbed onto anyone I could. Until I met a group that took advantage of my uselessness.” You don’t elaborate on that, but Daryl thinks he has an idea of what that means.

Daryl doesn’t know how to comfort you, so he just mumbles a ‘sorry to hear that’ beneath his breath.

When you don’t say anymore, he decides it’s his turn to speak.

“I think you’ll fit fine in this place. I’m Daryl, the guy you met earlier is Rick. He’s the leader of the group. Had us survive this long so I reckon you’ll like him.” He says.

You smile at his attempt of hospitality. You could tell he wasn’t one to talk much, so it relaxed you knowing his intentions were genuine.

“Thank you, Daryl. You’re a kind man.”

Daryl has many words to describe him. But kind wasn’t on the list. At least, not that he knew of. It shocked him. More so than he would like to believe.

He swallows, replying with a short nod. He ignores your thanks and leaves the cell with a warning that Rick will come along to collect your weapons later tonight.

—

When he visits the cell at midnight to do his night watch over you, he could barely recognize the woman that had once been dressed in complete black.

You cleaned up yourself during the time he was gone. Rick must’ve brought over Carol to fix up your arm since it no longer bleeds freely. You have your hair out of your face, the dirt on your skin has been washed off, and the thick cloak you wore no longer droops over your frame. Instead, his shirt is on you, paired with slacks Carol must’ve given you.

In most cases, he would be pissed. Having someone use his stuff without permission, but instead, his thoughts were directed whether or not it smelled.

You feel a presence loom over you, so you look up from the book you read, and spot Daryl staring at you through the bars.

“Hey, I was wondering when you would come back.” You say, your eyes smiling the moment you land your gaze on him.

Daryl sputters for a moment, recollecting his thoughts.

“Yeah, m’sorry. Had to help Rick take out few of the walkers outside the prison.” He says. He must’ve been staring at his shirt you wear, because you look down at your sleeve, then back up at him.

“Carol said I could borrow one of your shirts since there isn’t any spares that fit me. Sorry if I crossed the line—“

“Nah, nah. It’s fine. Yer’ my responsibility anyways.” He says. He opens the cell door and steps inside.

You snort at his response. You watch him cross the room and shimmy off his jacket, hanging it over the railing of the top bunk.

Once he’s done, and his gaze is back to you, a silence thrums between the two of you.

The shirt you wore looked breathtaking on you. He didn’t mean to make the room awkward, he really didn’t. But, it had been too long since he’s seen a woman dressed in his clothes. His intention was never meant to pick you up because you were pretty— he just couldn’t stand the thought of someone as lost as you alone during these times.

He wasn’t a kind person, he tells himself. He has killed many. Hurt dozens. If only you knew the kind of person he saw himself as— the type of person he really is. He didn’t want you thinking he was some hero just because he decided to bring you into the prison.

“What’s bothering you?”

He blinks.

“What?”

“You’re thinking about something that’s bothering you. What is it?”

He’s at a loss of words. He makes no move to step away from you, even though he knows he should. You are probably anxious to have a man loom over you like this on his own bed.

“Nothin’. Just, hadn’t seen a new face for awhile is all. Wanted to take a good look atcha’” He sniffs, looking away.

The last thing he would have expect was your touch. He wasn’t prepared— he jumps at the contact. Your hand is resting on his cheek, cradling him carefully like he would jump away if you touched him too hard. Your thumb smooths over the planes of his cheeks, and feeling the roughness of his beard underneath your palm.

You look at him with stern eyes, knowing he isn’t telling the full truth. Touch always reveals a bit of truth in the eyes, you’ve learnt.

“Will you stay?” You ask.

He looks at you dumbly.

“What?” He says, frowning.

“Will you stay in here tonight?” You explain, lifting your hand away from his face. He’s surprised to miss the warmth of your palm on his cheek.

“Where else would I be? I ain’t sleepin’ out on a chair outside the cell for some woman.” He scoffs, half-jokingly. “You got nough’ luxury sleepin’ in my bed.”

“I’m glad,” You chuckle.

“Why? Plannin’ on killing me in my sleep? Tough luck, girl. Not that easy to kill.”

“Who knows?” You hum, pouting your lips.

He flicks your forehead. “Stupid girl. If you were goin’ to kill me, you would’ve taken the safety off your gun when I first found ya’.”

You blush at that.

“Was it really?”

“Damn right it was. Had me questioning your wits and whether or not you’d be too stupid for yer’ own good and put us all in danger.”

You frown, which he chuckles at— flicking your forehead for the second time.

“But here you are sleeping in the same cell.” You shoot back, rubbing away the sting from your forehead.

“Yeah well, I’m confident enough that I can take ya’.” He drops his crossbow, shoving it to the corner of the cell room along with his boots.

“Consider yerself lucky getting the better half of the bunk.” He adds as he pulls himself up onto the top bunk, the metal rods that support it creak and groan as he settles up there.

“Is that right?” You roll your eyes, and dip under the blankets, pulling them up to your chin. They smell like him— like what you imagine the forest smells like without the smell of the dead.

“Mhm.” Is all he replies with.

A comfortable silence follows for a few minutes. You start to wonder if he had fallen asleep, but you decide nobody could doze off in such a short span of time.

“What did you work as before all of this happened?” You ask, half expecting there to be no answer.

Daryl groans, and you hear the bed creak as he shuffles around.

“A drifter.”

“How about your family?”

“How bout’ you stop asking shitty questions and go to sleep, dammit.” He scoffs.

“You did say I was your responsibility. At least give me an idea of what kind of person you are.” You scoff back.

“Yer’ typical asshole redneck. Now shut up.”

You fall silent for a few seconds. Daryl finally thinks that you may be falling asleep.

“Least’ wish me a goodnight…” You huff.

“For fucks’ sake woman! Goodnight.” He bangs the side of the metal rod stabilizing the bed. Despite his tone, he can’t help but smile.

—

A couple of days pass by fairly quickly. You’re introduced to the people inside the prison. Daryl had seen your hesitance around them. He can understand that— it’s probably been a long time since you’ve been able to trust those around you. So, when you decided to stick by his side for most of the days, he never shooed you away. He felt good knowing he gave you some sort of security.

He began bringing you on hunting sprees for food when he was confident enough that there weren’t many walkers around. He taught you small things about tracking and different calls birds would make. Make you strip the squirrel of it’s guts, and hack the fur off the skin.

He liked your eagerness to learn. Despite the faces you’d make and the questionable looks you gave him when he told you it was your turn to gut their catch, he enjoyed your company unlike any other person he’s been around.

It hadn’t been until a week passed, and a routine quickly fell in place that he began questioning your relationship with him. Each night you’d take night watch with him for a few hours until you both returned to your cell to sleep. There would be a bicker between the two of you, (mainly of Daryl to tell you to “shut the fuck up and stop asking shitty questions”) until one of you passed out.

He wasn’t one for emotions or relationships. So when he caught himself with lingering eyes on you, or a thumping heart whenever you smiled at him, it bothered him. It bothered him a lot. You were young. Hell of a lot younger than he was, and he hated himself just a tiny bit more each time he imagines your touch on him like you did the night he first brought you into his cell.

Today was no different.

You have stuck by him for most of the day. Currently, he is taking the time to teach you basic protocols with a knife and gun. His rough hands on top of yours, manipulating your fingers around the gun’s hilt to hold it properly.

God has it been too long since he’s ever been so close to a woman. He never was quite popular with the women in his hometown, never fooled around much. So maybe that’s why his heart thunders beneath his chest right now when he catches a whiff of your scent.

When you look up at him with that excited gleam when you do something right on your own— like loading a gun properly. It makes his heart bloom. It angers him. It was so out of character for him to have this kind of affection towards someone.

He learnt that you’re naturally a cautious person. You make calculated decisions. You project your feelings a bit too much on others. You mentioned earlier on a hunting spree that you first believed the walkers felt lost and had come to you for help. You soon realized how ridiculous that sounded, but it had only made him realize how kind of a person you are.

Unlike he was.

He was afraid. Maybe a bit regretful even. He knows that he will mess this up one way or another. You were young, naive, pretty. Why did he even feel the need to teach you how to hold a gun, or use a knife? That wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t a kind person. He didn’t do things out of the kindness of his heart.

Maybe he did have ambiguous intentions— he starts to question himself.

“What’s bothering you?” You say, tapping his hand. He had gotten distracted, nearly forgot he was supposed to be teaching you how to shoot a gun.

He frowns at you, you’re looking up at him with those perceptive eyes of yours. How did you always know when he was troubled?

“What’s it to ya’, girl?” Daryl scoffs, and backs away from you. He’s all too aware of the cold air hitting his palms that had once been warmed by your hands.

You lower your gun and furrow your brows. He was acting strange. Or maybe you were just thinking too much into things like you always seem to do.

“You go quiet when you’re thinking about something that troubles you.” You explain, walking up to him to close the distance he had put between the two of you.

“M’ always quiet.” He shrugs. “Stop carin’ so much.” He takes another step back, and picks up the crossbow he left on the ground, swinging it over his shoulder.

You don’t make a move to close the distance between the two of you again.

“M’goin on a scouting trip with Rick to get more supplies.” He decides suddenly.

You’re caught off guard for a moment. He never was one to simply ditch a practice.

“I could come, I know these parts quite well—“

“No.” Daryl says a bit too harshly than he would’ve liked.

You huff.

“If you’re worried about me getting hurt, I’ve taken care of myself long before you came along, so—“

“We ain’t bringin’ a woman who’d just get in our way.” He spits. “Like you said, you jus’ rely on others. You’d get us killed.” He pauses, mumbling the last part of his sentence. “Prolly how the first group you’d been in died.”

He watches the shock contort the smile you had worn just seconds ago. He doesn’t know why he said that, or why he feels so angry all of a sudden. He ignores the hurt that struck his chest the moment he saw your smile fade.

You don’t say anything. You look hurt and confused. He knew it. He knew he’d fuck up. Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe this would stop him from thinking about what he desired deep down, to stop his true intentions from forming.

He doesn’t wait for your reaction. He just scoffs, and walks away. Leaving you alone in the middle of the prison field.

—

A few days pass. You and Daryl haven’t spoken. You would be lying if what he said didn’t hurt, but in a way, he was right. But still, you would’ve been happy to pretend it never even happened.

That night after the argument you had with Daryl, he never showed up to night watch, or his cell. You were scared that something may have happened on his trip, but the next morning you see him roasting squirrels on the fire. When he heard your footsteps, he had looked up, but never acknowledged you.

“You went hunting without me?” You pout, trying to break the awkwardness between you.

He only grunts in response, which wasn’t unusual from Daryl. He was a quiet man, but he was usually a lot more responsive around you.

“We could probably made a nice stew with these big fella’s. Carol was telling me about the tomatoes she grew.” You hum, remembering the adoring smile on her face when she told you. She was the only other person you talked to regularly other than Daryl.

You reach to grab a stick that the squirrel is pierced on to turn it, but a hand slaps you away.

“Ain’t for you, get yer’ own grub.” Daryl spits. He still doesn’t look you in the eye.

You’re shocked. You hold you hand close to your chest. It stung from the slap, but it was nothing compared to how your heart clenched. You blink a couple of times in disbelief.

“What?” You say stupidly.

“I said get yer’ own damn food. I ain’t yer’ provider. Maybe try and do somethin’ on your own for a change. You follow me like some dumb lost puppy and I’m sick of it.” He yells.

He makes the mistake of looking up at you.

You’re looking down at your hand, smoothing your thumb over the place he slapped you— comforting the sting. He sees the start of tears collect at your waterline, but you make an effort not to let them spill over.

You swallow thickly, nodding with a tight lipped smile while still looking at your hand.

He knows he should apologize. His heart aches seeing your lost look on your face. This isn’t what he wanted, he didn’t want to hurt you. He curses at himself in his head, his hands cramping up from clenching too hard.

He doesn’t know where to start. How to explain himself— explain how he’s feeling. So he says nothing, and looks down at his feet.

You clear your throat and stand up. He watches you take the knife he had left next to his crossbow, but he continues to stay silent. He’s silent when you walk off. Doesn’t make a move to catch up with you and tell you he’s sorry. He just continues to watch you walk towards the prison with the knife in hand until you disappear inside.

Once you’re gone, only then does he bury his face in his hands, wishing that he could take what he said all back.

—

Daryl walks into the prison, searching for your cloak to bring to you for the night watch. It was cold out, and he knew how reluctant you were to ever wear more than your long sleeve, saying some shit about how “it builds your immune system.”

He plans to apologize to you. Try his best to explain his feelings. Maybe you could just look into his eyes like you always do, and understand what is bothering him. Tell him what is bothering him, because, frankly, he doesn’t know himself.

He enters the empty cell, looking into your bag for your cloak. He does his best not to invade your privacy, but when he doesn’t find it, he empties the bag entirely.

Your personal gun and cloak is gone, which was unusual. A thread of fear begins to knit its way in his chest.

He stomps out of the cell, and into the main room of the prison where he spots Carol.

“Did you see Reader anywhere?” Daryl asks, more desperately than he would’ve liked.

Carol gives him an odd look and shakes her head.

“I assumed she was with you. Last time I saw her she came in here to grab her gun around this morning, thought you two were going on one of your hunting sprees.”

His heart drops. There was no way you took him seriously. You were a smart girl, you were cautious, made careful decisions— you wouldn’t do something as reckless as leave the prison without him.

His breathing becomes uneven— he’s panicking, he realizes.

He doesn’t say anything else, he just sprints out of the prison without a second thought.

He passes by Rick who shouts at him, but he can’t make out what he’s saying. He doesn’t try to. All his thoughts are revolving around whether or not you’re okay.

He runs the direction of the forest where he usually hunts, where he has taken you to for nearly two weeks now. Taught you. Trained you. And adored your attention and company the entire time he did it.

You would’ve gone there, that’s where you’re most familiar with.

And he’s right.

He slows down, a few metres from the entrance of the forest. A figure emerges from the forest, walking towards him, a hood covering the face. But he knows, he knows it’s you and not some walker.

A walker wouldn’t be holding three squirrels by the tail. His girl wouldn’t have left that forest without a meal in her hands.

He sees your eyes peek from under your hood, an exhausted smile on your face. You hold up the squirrels above your head for him to see. Your eyes shine the same way they do when you’re looking for that praise he gives you when you do well.

His heart hurts seeing your smile. Like you had to prove something to him, that you weren’t weak. That you were nothing like he said you were.

“You fuckin’ shitty woman.” He says with no venom in his tone. He jogs up to you and embraces you tightly, thankful for the darkness to hide the tears of relief collecting in his eyes.

You cry out when he does, startling him and backing away. You're reaching for your arm, the one you injured when he had first met you.

“I think I tore the stitches.” You grunt, stumbling a bit. Daryl holds you tight and stabilizes your footing. Your hood has fallen back, and only then can he see the blood smeared across your face.

“Shit, what were you thinkin’ He says, wiping the blood off your face with his thumb.

You shake your head, trying to dismiss his worry.

“Gotta get back before the walkers smell it, right? That’s what you said.” You chuckle.

He nods, remembering when he said that those weeks ago. He crouches down and picks you up effortlessly. You gasp at his strength but he quickly ruins the way you romanticize it by commenting on something stupid.

“Fuck yer heavy, girl.”

You don’t know what you were expecting, really.

He carries you back to the prison, ignoring the concerned glances of Rick and Carol. You wave them off with a smile, but you don’t think that’s what drove them away, because when you look up at Daryl’s face, he’s glaring at the both of them— silently saying “leave us alone.”

He enters his cell, shutting the curtain to give some sense of privacy, and gently rests you on the old, single chair in front of the equally as old desk. He kneels on one leg, taking the squirrels from your hand, and stripping you of your cloak.

He doesn’t think before he begins to unbutton your shirt, all his thoughts are directed to whether or not your hurt underneath your sleeve. But he stops when he feels you tense under his fingers.

Shit, what was he thinking?

“M’sorry, uh, I should prolly fetch Carol—“ He stammers over himself.

He tries to retract his hand, but you catch it and place it back onto your chest, just above your breasts. You’re looking down at him, your chest heaving. You look so tired. There’s blood staining your teeth, dirt above your brow. But, he would be lying to himself if he said that you didn’t look sexy looking down at him like that.

“I don’t want Carol.” You say, furrowing your brows at him.

He feels dirty. He shouldn’t be allowed to see you, to touch you so intimately.

“Daryl.” You say, sensing his hesitance. He looks up, realizing that he was staring at his hands instead of you.

“For fucks sake just take off my bloody shirt.”

His eyes flicker to your lips spreading to accommodate your smile. Your beautiful smile despite being sullied with blood. He swallows when he watches your tongue dart to your lips, licking the blood that had spilled from your torn lip.

He nods, pushing away the fear and returning his work on your shirt. He slips each button out of their hole and slides it off gently by your shoulders, careful not to disturb any other injuries you may have gotten.

He tries his best not to look at your black laced bra. Tries not to flicker his eyes down to your breasts protruding from them, avoiding the beauty marks scattered amongst your skin. Instead, he forces himself to look at your wound.

It wasn’t bleeding. He releases a deep breath, relieved that the stitches hadn’t been broken after so many days of healing. You must’ve hit it though, since there’s a bruise that begins forming under his touch.

“What did yer do? Stupid girl.” He says, gnawing on his lip. He doesn’t look at you in the eye, too ashamed of his stupid mistake. He peels your sleeve down more, and spots a few scrapes down your forearm. He wipes away the blood seeping out from them— it’s not a lot, but it’s hard for him to look at knowing it’s because of him.

He feels defeated. Tired. You must have seen it on his face because you comb your fingers through his hair, which startles him. You watch how his shoulders jump at the contact, but he eventually compels himself to relax.

“Did what you told me to do. I went into the forest too far, and got lost tracking a couple of squirrels. I fell when a walker popped out at me from nowhere, but I’m fine. Your tracking skills helped me get back— even if it took me this long.” You say.

Daryl shuts his eyes closed listening to you. He starts sinking down onto the floor, and he puts his head in your lap, hugging your hips with his arms. He breathes in your scent, masked by dirt and blood, but even then, it’s still so distinctively you.

He squeezes you tight, making sure he’s not dreaming. That you’re with him, that he’s in your lap. That your touch is real.

“M’ so sorry. M’ a fuckin’ idiot. I thought that— thought that if I were to’be an ass and keep away from yer, that I wouldn’t have these terrible thoughts.”

You’re quiet, silently playing with his hair. Twisting it in your fingers, and causing chills to slither down his neck. He sighs at your touch. He never knew how good it felt to be touched so simply.

“What were your thoughts?” You whisper. One hand slides down the back of his neck, feeling where his neck meets his back muscles. Subconsciously, his grip tightens around your hips, silently begging you not to pull away.

“I- I don’t, can’t—“ He curses at himself. He’s stuttering like some pussy, overwhelmed by all of you. Your touch. Your smell. Your voice. When did he become so soft? He wishes that you could read his mind, tell him what he’s feeling, why he’s feeling this way towards you.

“M’not good at, y’know, feelin’s n shit.” He decides, hoping that you can understand.

And you do. Of course you do.

“I’m listening, take your time.” You say. Your hand that was on his back trails up to his cheek. He’s resting one side of his head on your lap, so you see how his eyelashes flutter at the soft touch. He’s unaware that you can see his lips part in a sigh.

“I neva’ wanted to make yer think I took you into the prison jus’ cuz’ you were alone and, y’know, a young pretty lady. I never had other intentions other than helpin’ someone.” He begins, often tripping over himself to find the right words. But you don’t interrupt him, you just continue to comfort him with your soft touches.

“But m’not a kind person like you. I neva’ did things out of the kindness of m’heart. So, I began wonderin’ if I actually did have secret intentions, and it fucked m’up an I got angry at m’self.” He breathes in a shaky breath and swallows down his nerves. “I couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout’ your touches, and how fuckin pretty you are. An’ I jus felt like a pervert. So I took m’ anger out on you, thinkin’ if I did, it’d stop all them stupid thoughts.”

You hum, long and deep. He can feel it vibrate his cheek, and he feels comfort knowing that you’re listening and not pushing him away in disgust.

“What if I said I have the same sort of thoughts about you?” You say.

You feel his shoulders tense and his fingers dig into your hips without knowing. He’s completely taken aback by what you said.

“Don’t say stupid shit. Yer’ jus a kid.” He scoffs, trying not to let your words get him too hopeful.

“I’m 22, Daryl. I may be half your age, but I’m still an adult.” You say as you smooth his hair away from his face.

He grimaces.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t do that.”

You slither your hand under his shirt, tracing circles over his shoulder blades.

“I don’t understand what you mean, Daryl.” You whisper his name in breathier tone which has him visibly gritting his teeth.

“Yer way younger than me…” He argues weakly, shuddering when you dance your fingertips from the middle of his shoulders, all the way up his neck. He can feel himself begin to strain against his jeans.

“Yet I’m still a consenting adult, aren’t I? Don’t patronize me with your shit.” You huff.

“With some redneck like me?” He scoffs in disbelief.

“Mmm.” You agree which makes him chuckle lowly.

“Besides…” You say, urging him to lift his head from your lap. He does, and he looks at you. He has a light dusting of blush on his cheeks which was rare to see. It makes your heart flutter.

You lift your legs over Daryl’s broad shoulders. One of your hands grip onto his hair, pulling him closer to you.

He’s speechless. Your thighs are soft and warm against his cheeks, and your ankles rest where your hands hand been— right between his shoulder blades. A warm sensation builds in his abdomen. He shuffles, feeling the tightness in his jeans continue to grow.

“You have some apologizing to do don’t you?”

His mouth goes dry. You couldn’t be serious, could you? With him? His eyes dart from your face, to your exposed chest, then between your spread legs. With hesitance, he bring his hand on top of your thigh that rests on his shoulder. He looks back up to you for guidance.

“What.. whatd’ya mean?” He licks his lips, causing you to smirk. He knew what you meant, he was just too afraid of being wrong.

“Figure it out.” You urge his head forward and squeeze your thighs around his head once.

He looks at you a second longer. Searching your eyes for anything saying that this isn’t what you actually wanted. But all he finds is an almost desperate look of hunger. He feels your fingers tighten around his hair impatiently, pushing him closer to your clothed cunt.

He swallows down his nerves, and runs his hands down your thighs until he reaches the hem of your pants. He takes a nervous glance up to see your reaction, and he’s pleased to see a blush paint your cheeks.

Hooking his thumbs on each side of your pants, he pulls them down slowly, revealing your underwear. He takes note of a damp spot on the fabric, feeling a bit more confident seeing your arousal seep through.

With a new boost of confidence, Daryl pulls your pants down to your knee, revealing your thighs and begins leaving gentle kisses between then. You feel the scratch of his facial hair and it makes you release a shuddering breath.

“Good.. that’s good.” You praise quietly, rewarding him by pushing his hair away from his face. You don’t know it, but Daryl’s heart flutters at your praise, and he continues kissing further until he reaches your clothed cunt.

He spreads your legs a bit more, allowing himself access to your core. He breathes in your scent, and it nearly makes him dizzy with arousal. It’s been too long.

With a final glance to your flushed face, he begins peeling away your panties.

With two fingers, he spreads your folds open, presenting all of yourself to him. You’re glistening and soaked to the touch. He mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath before diving in.

You throw your head back, your hand quickly shooting up to your mouth to smother your moan. You find purchase in his hair to stabilize yourself and hands help keep your hips from canting up into his mouth.

Your lower stomach is showered in a warm, bubbling sensation. Just the first lick he gives to your clit has your legs trembling and your breath stuttering. His facial hair is rough and drags between your thighs, adding a tingling sensation to the heat building inside you.

His tongue begins at your entrance, and licks all the way up to your clit, moaning at the taste. He craves more of you, and starts lapping at your clit, swirling his tongue around the bud before sucking it in entirely. The sensation has your back arching off the chair, forcing Daryl to hold you down as he continues eating you out.

“Oh! It’s so good. Feels so good.” You crumble under his touch, crying out from behind your hand.

Daryl moans again into your clit, sending vibrations up your body that make your legs close onto his head, squeezing him with the meat of your thighs.

Daryl takes your legs into his hands, not once leaving your cunt, and he stands, crouching over you. He holds your ankle of one leg down, and keeps another on his shoulder. You’re bent almost in half in the new position he manhandled you in, but the new position gives him a clear view of your entrance.

Letting go of your ankle, he lets your leg drop, his one hand still keeping your leg still on his shoulder. He rubs a finger around your entrance, listening to your breath hitch and shudder. He slips it in with ease, curling it up and rubbing in long strokes against your g-spot.

“Daryl…” You drop the hand that covered your mouth and put both hands on his forearm, unsure whether you were trying to pull it away or bring him closer.

Spurred on by the sound of his name falling from your lips, he slipped in a second finger. Obscene squelching sounds carried through the room each time his fingers pounded in and out of you.

You were so close, but you couldn’t let it end here.

You push his head away from your cunt. His face is dripping with your juices, his tongue laps up the remainder of it on his lips and he tries to dip back down between your legs, eager to taste more of you, but you stop him.

“Whas’ the matter?” He says, his voice raspy and deep. His expression flickered from lust-filled to concerned in a matter of seconds. “Did I—“

“I was close.” You manage to say despite trying to catch your breath.

He relaxes knowing it wasn’t anything that he did. He scoffs and tries again to delve back into the heat of your thighs but you stop him for the second time.

“C’mon, yer’ close, weren’t ya’?” He says, nipping at your inner thigh which makes you jump.

He looked so enticing. His cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed and hungry, his tongue darting out to taste the remainder of you on his lips. It was almost too much.

“I… I wanna do the same to you.” You say, now your turn to be shy.

You watch how he sucks in a breath and you feel the way his hand squeezes your thigh.

“You… you ain’t gotta.” He says as he drops your leg from his shoulder.

“I want to, please.” You insist. You reach around your back and unclasp your bra, letting it fall and reveal your breasts to him.

His eyes instantly dart down to your freed breasts.

He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a nod and backs away to sit on the bed with his legs widespread.

It’s your turn to kneel beneath him between his legs. You lift the hem of his shirt up, kissing the warm skin of his navel. He has a dark happy trail leading down his groin. You breathe in his musky scent there, and look up at him with wide eyes.

He takes the hem of his shirt and takes it off for you to have better access. His hands then return to the edge of the bed, fiddling with the covers nervously as his eyes rake over your body.

You do the same to his.

You knew he was strong. You always had an amazing view of his biceps whenever he would chop wood for the fire, or lift his crossbow to shoot a walker. But up close, seeing his upper body completely bare made you realize how strong he really was.

Daryl became a bit antsy, unsure where to look. Your stare made him feel strange. He wasn’t used to being watched so intensely.

“Stop starin’ girl.” He flicks your forehead, making you jump back.

You pout up at him, rubbing the spot he flicked to soothe the sting. You mumble a “prick” under your breath which makes him rumble a deep chuckle. It has you squeezing your thighs together in anticipation.

You undo his jeans and yank his underwear down. His cock springs free and hits your cheek. The visual of his hard cock on your face has his cock pulsating on your cheek.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He can’t take his eyes off you. You look stunning under him like this, kneeling before him and worshiping his cock.

You take him into one hand and you bring the other down to his balls, rolling them in your palm as you lower your head and take the head of his uncut cock into your mouth. You’re fascinated by the way his jaw drops open, and how the muscles in his abdomen flex and flutter from pleasure.

You dip your tongue under his foreskin, massaging every part of him you can reach with your tongue. You then pull back and suckle the tip, holding eye contact with him as you do. The saltiness of his precum coats your tongue, and it has you humming, sending vibrations down the shaft of his cock.

“Shit,” Daryl moans, stooping over your head. He can’t seem to restrain himself. His hand drops down to your chest, fondling and massaging your breasts. His other hand rests at the back of your head, not daring to push you past your limits. You’re grateful for that and reward his actions by pushing him deeper into your mouth.

The muskiness of his sex has you seeing stars. It was all so arousing. His hands on you, his rough moans and heavy breathing, his quiet praise whenever you would suck him deeper into your tight heat.

You drop one hand from his balls and run it up his side, feeling the firm muscle twitch under your touch. You caress his sides, then over top of his abdomen that ripple with strong muscle. You reach his chest, and you feel his heartbeat pound fast against his rib cage.

“Shit, darlin’ m’close.” He warns, and threads his fingers into your hair, yanking you off of his cock.

You suck in a breath and lick off the mix of precum and saliva on your lips. You swallow, wiping your face on your shoulder and looking up at him expectantly.

“Dammit girl’ don’ look at me like that.” He hisses, helping you wipe off a smudge of spit on your cheek.

You smile up at him and crawl into his lap. You slither a hand around his shoulders and up to his neck, grabbing at the long strands of hair. Your breaths hover over each other’s lips, sharing the air between you.

Daryl looks conflicted. His eyes dart from your lips, then back to your gaze. He wants to kiss you, but he feels that may be too intimate.

“Do you want to kiss me, Daryl?” You ask, trailing a finger over his brow, noticing a small scar on his forehead. You trace it with your finger adoringly.

He’s too afraid to speak, knowing that his voice will most likely crack, or his pounding heart will make his words stutter. So he nods shyly instead.

You smile.

“Go ahead then.”

With hesitance, he cups your cheek in his big, calloused hand. You watches how you lean into it encouragingly.

He leans in and takes what he wants. He kisses you shyly at first, but then turns greedy once you kiss back. He slides an arm around your waist, pushing you impossibly closer to his body.

He tastes the faint remainder of your blood on your lips, a reminder of what hedid to you. It makes him angry, but he pushes down the feeling by kissing your harder, shoving his tongue into your mouth.

You moan into his mouth which he swallows. Without breaking the kiss, he lays you down onto his bed— the one you’ve stolen from him, and hovers above your body, caging you with his frame.

Your nails scrap down his back which earns a low growl from the back of his throat. He breaks the kiss to take in your naked body beneath him.

He can’t believe that you’re real. That you’re beneath him, squirming and impatient for him. Body flushed and shining with a thin slayer of perspiration. Soft moans escaping from your swollen lips, and a desperate look in your eye.

And it’s all for him.

“Daryl..” You moan his name, running your fingers through his hair.

“Mm?” He replies, returning his attention back to your face.

“I want you inside me.”

He believed that his cock couldn’t get harder, but he was wrong. He could’ve came from those words alone.

“Ya?” He says a bit hesitant. He needed to make sure this was what you wanted.

“Please Daryl!” You plead, wrapping your legs around his hips and pushing him closer to your core.

He nods, pleased with how desperate you are for his cock. He places a forearm beside your head, resting his weight. He takes the other hand and lines himself up to your entrance.

“Ready, darlin?” He asks, kissing your temple. You never imagined Daryl to be an intimate person, but you adored it. The innocent kiss had your stomach fluttering.

“Please,” You moan, canting your hips forward to try and slip his cock inside. Daryl chuckles and holds your hips in place with one hand, forcing you to be still.

Slowly, he sinks inside you. His cock being enveloped by your soft warm walls, hugging him tight like a vice. You both moan in sync, shuddering as he continues to fill you up until his balls rest at your bottom.

“Shit, darlin. You feel s’good.” He says with his face between the crook of your neck, the vibration of his deep voice tickling your skin. He lets you adjust to his girth, patiently running gentle circles along your sides.

He feels you flutter around his cock adjusting to him. He runs a hand from your side, up to your face, cradling your cheek and coaxing you to look at him.

“Does it hurt?” He asks. He wasn’t certain whether you were a virgin or if it had been a long time since you’ve had sex. He wants to make sure you feel as good as he does.

“Just a lil, just give me a sec.” You reply, pecking him on the lips. He nods and kisses you, distracting you from the pain by licking into your mouth. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and rolls it, making you squirm and gasp under him.

You both kiss until you run out of breath, and when you break apart you nod, allowing him to move.

He hugs you into his broad chest, burying his face into the top of you head and breathing in your scent as he pulls his hips back, and sheathes himself back inside you slowly, helping you get accustomed to him.

“Faster,” You moan, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You can feel his back muscles ripple under your fingertips and the raised skin from old scars.

“Greedy girl,” He whispers in your ear, smirking. But he obeys your command and snaps his hips faster into your pussy.

You bury your face into Daryl’s shoulder, muffling your moans and sobs of pleasure. He angles his hips just right, pounding that spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. Your nails drag down his back, earning a loud growl in your ear. He goes faster, spurred on by the sharp pain.

Your pussy made obscene wet noises with each snap of his hips. He felt your wetness coat his cock and drench his balls. He looked down at where you both were connected, and the visual of his cock disappearing into your pussy made him curse.

He switched the rhythm but kept the same speed. With each thrust inside your cunt, he would grind his groin on your clit.

You released a particular loud cry into his shoulder as he did this. His pubic hair accompanied by the powerful grind on your cunt had you reaching your climax quick. It was euphoric the way he played your body.

“That’s it girl.” Daryl praises, slapping the side of your thigh just to watch the fat jiggle. He felt your walls tighten at the action, and it had him smiling deviously into your neck.

“Yer’ just a slut fer my cock, aren’t ya? Humping me like some horny bitch in heat.” He says with a sadistic chuckle. You were shocked by his dirty words, but it had you melting in his arms.

“Yes! Yes Daryl!” You reply. The euphoric feeling with each slam of his cock has your mind shut off completely. You went limp, accepting him to use your body in anyway he wanted.

“Dumb slut, yer’ just drunk on my cock.” He says, slapping your thigh for a second time. “With your fucked out brains you’d do anythin’ wouldn’t ya, slut?”

You moan loud into his shoulder, rapidly nearing your orgasm. You can feel the tightness in your stomach about to snap.

“Yes! Anything! Anything for you!” You chant.

Daryl’s hips begin to stutter and he lets out a shaky moan.

“Then come on ma’ cock.”

That’s all it took. Your mouth opens in a silent scream as your body goes taut. A rush of pure euphoria clouds your mind. Daryl watches your face contort and feels your walls go impossibly tighter around his cock.

He continues thrusting, holding off his orgasm to ride out yours. He waits until your body goes limp in his arms before letting go.

With a drawn out groan, he indulges in your warm heat before pulling out and spilling his hot seed onto your stomach. His balls clench, and long stripes of white coat your abdomen and breasts. He strokes himself until his body shakes, and his orgasm fades into a dull pleasurable pulse.

He takes a look at your fucked out expression and gives you a lazy smirk. He lays beside you, hugging you into his chest— not minding his seed smearing on his stomach.

You’re both quiet for a few moments, listening to each other’s heartbeats and satisfied breaths.

“Holy fuck that was hot.” You’re first to break the silence.

Daryl snorts and smacks your ass, loving the way it jiggles from impact.

“Tell me bout’ it.” He says.

You look up at him, forcing him to open his tired eyes.

Despite all that you’ve done together, his heart seems to flutter most at the way you smile up at him. He’s about to ask you what you’re looking at him for, but before he can, your lips are already on his, kissing him short and sweet.

“You’re forgiven.” You say with a devilish smile.

He scoffs. “Yer’ a lil’ shit.” He says, and pushes your face into his chest. He rests his chin on your head and closes his eyes, ready to sleep.

Your arms wrap around him and you breathe in his smell noisily while tangling your legs around his torso.

“Jeez, woman. Go to sleep.” He huffs, a smile tugging on his lips.

“Mmmhmm.” You reply, snuggling into his chest, nearing the edge of falling asleep. “Goodnight.”

He rolls his eyes but still, he kisses your head.

“G’night darlin.”

#fanfiction #the walking dead #twd #daryl dixon #smut #twd smut #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixion imagine #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you

[consistencynevermether]

Astarion x Rouge! Tav

A/N: I am, as the professionals would say, back on my bullshit. anyways here's another in my series of Astarion x a certain class 

part 1 (Paladin Tav version)- https://www.tumblr.com/consistencynevermether/730256251991310336/astarion-x-gn-paladin-reader-hcs-an-this-man?source=share

Bastard x bastard 

You two are absolute little SHITS together let me tell y’all that 

Your love language? CRIME. 

No but seriously imagine this- one of you had this plain steel ring, nothing special or anything just collecting dust at the bottom of your bags. Honestly, you don’t even remember which one of you it originally belonged to

When you first met, one of you had stolen the ring from the other to prove they were “superior with their hands” to the other. Eventually, it became a game between the two of you, every few days stealing this little trinket from each other. And bragging until the other stole it back. It didn’t matter whether either of you wore it on your fingers, around your necks, or even hiding it in folds of clothing. Neither could hold onto it for more than a week before the other snatched it up 

The most memorable little moment with this ring- once you had both gone on a late night walk, hand in hand. The moon's soft glow bathing you both in silver, it was like a scene out of a romance novel, especially when you leaned in to press your lips against his

And then- 

While he was distracted you slipped it off his finger and booked it. Immediately running as fast as you could, not daring to look back, laughing as you sped off with your prize

Unfortunately for you, Astarion happens to be a vampire spawn. Vampire spawn are quite physically inclined, and Astarion is pretty fit

What I’m saying is you made it a good 30 feet before getting tackled to the ground and had the ring wrestled out of your hand 

Honestly, though, you were laughing so hard you didn’t even mind losing the game, you were just happy that for a second your master plan had worked. 

Astarion complained about how his outfit got all dusty because of you, but you had heard him laughing right along with you when he had tackled you to the ground

Astarion won’t admit this, but that ring means more to him than any bejeweled precious jewelry ever could, because it connects him to you

Both of you claim to have the best set of knives and take every opportunity to show off to each other with your skills. Once you actually picked a lock with a smaller blade and you could swear it caused Astarion to be a little flustered. 

Sharing clothes? Sharing clothes. Listen, I'm just saying, will you let your vampire boyfriend burn up in the sun or will you lend him that nice new cloak you just got? Yea, that’s what I thought now it’s joint property. Dw tho it all evens out when you steal one of his nightshirts (it’s the comfiest thing ever, and not just because it always faintly smells like him) 

You guys definitely do couples' heists together. Sneaking, pickpocketing, lockpicking, running from the law, it's all in a day's work for the most shifty couple in Faerun. One of you might distract a lord while the other snuck into his vault to retrieve some valuable magical item. 

Ok but in all seriousness, y’all must be the most ethereal couple around. Imagine seeing two people glide over the rooftops of Baldur's gate, each jump almost like steps to a dance they both know by heart. Flitting around each other like ribbons in the breeze, one with soft silver hair and the other face obscured by their pitch-black cloak, hood pulled up and rippling in the night air. They dance across rooftops, swift as shadows, graceful as spirits, never touching, and yet somehow the rare onlooker knows they are meant to be a pair.

Some bard has definitely written a song about that last bullet point I promise you. 

You two probably had a million cons just waiting to be used. I imagine during your time together trying to get rid of the tadpole, you would both talk late into the night, bouncing ideas off each other, throwing out ideas of different tricks you could pull on the unsuspecting. Some genuinely clever, most just absurd attempts at making the other person laugh.  

If you ever actually got the chance to you it though? Oh ho HO. let me tell you how this went down. Your party had gotten into a situation, attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible. But by a bout of bad luck, someone had started harassing Karlach and at the same time, Lazel had started yelling at a guard, hand on her sword, inches away from striking. The party needed some sort of distraction, and luckily you both had just the thing. 

Astarion had grabbed the nearest glass of wine and splashed it on you, then putting on his best offended face he anguished, “How could you cheat on me?!?! And with my own BROTHER!?!?” That sentence made everyone's head snap up, including the guards as you both laid the theatrics on thick. You kept this act up with Astarion for a good 10 minutes, with fake tears and dramatics from both of you. At one point on the spot, you made up that he had slept with your mother and it was revenge, and the crowd was extremely invested, people taking sides, guards trying to calm down the chaos. But hey you're fake out worked, Karlach and Lazel were able to sneak away quietly and you had both given the distraction of a lifetime. Shadowheart disapproves.

Occasionally the two of you will talk in Thieves cant to each other when you don’t want the party to overhear certain conversations. Originally you were both probably talking about important things like strategies and debating about how to go about getting rid of the tadpole. But now you kind of both just use it to piss off Lazel a little. 

Ultimately you two really understand each other on a deep level, you really are 2 people with one mind. And together there's a world of adventure out there for you both, and infinite fun magical items for you both too “acquire”.

#astarion fic #astarion romance #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x you #baldurs gate 3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x y/n #astarion x rouge

[jjunieworld]

20. icarus ⸝ ˚⋆

↳ mostly written, some texts. word count: 8.6k (warning: there will be some suggestive acts in this chapter, but not smut.)

you and your friends were at the cafe figuring out your backup plan. the thought of your friends going through all this trouble just to make sure you had a good birthday really warmed your heart. you couldn’t have asked for better friends.

currently, your boyfriend wasn’t present for the plan, nor was the plan mentioned in the groupchat he was a part of. you suspected this was purposeful. ever since sakura announced she was throwing a birthday party for you, yeonjun has been more cautious than ever around soobin. in fact, all of your friends were. recent hangouts didn’t outright exclude him, but they made no effort to include him either. your heart broke at this. you didn’t want the people you love most to be part of two separate worlds.

yunjin brought a notebook along with her that she was writing the entire plan down. so far it filled almost two whole pages. yeonjun reached across the table and took it from her.

“so the main plan,” yeonjun said as he picked up the highlighter, “is that if we don’t go to the party, we go to the beach and do our usual birthday celebrations. and then after we have a big movie night at my apartment.” he highlighted the main plan as he spoke. the notebook honestly looked chaotic. there were little bullet point ideas written everywhere, some crossed out, some highlighted. ‘MAIN PLAN’ was written in big bold letters at the top of one of the pages along with ‘BACKUP PLAN’ written for the instance things go wrong.

“and here’s the main backup plans that we have in case something goes wrong,” yunjin continued. “for example, a change of clothes in case cake gets thrown on y/n along with makeup and hair supplies, our own bottle of alcohol in case the one there is spiked with something, and since we plan on walking home again since we’ll most likely be drunk, jackets.”

“oh and one of us will stay sober that way at least one of us is alert!” jake added. “i’ll stay sober,” kai said, “i’m too nervous about all of this to even think of drinking.” you gave him a side hug as you gave him a comforting smile.

a lot of the backup plan was excessive, a bunch of what ifs that all of you knew most likely weren’t ever gonna happen, such as the spiking of drinks, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared. you struggled to wrap your mind around the whole thing.

“won't people think we’re a little weird if we go in wearing bookbags and shit?” you asked. you didn’t think you could really leave the bags anywhere either without the fear of someone taking them. and you really didn’t want to have one of your friends sitting guard the whole night.

jake waved a hand, “we can stash them somewhere outside the house. everyone’s gonna be drunk, they aren’t even gonna notice.” you guess he was right. you took a deep breath. honestly, all of this is making you not want to even go. but you had to at least give it a chance. give soobin’s friends a chance.

“even if we did wear them inside, people already think we’re weird so who cares,” said yunjin. you all nodded at that.

“guys… we’re missing a key point…” you said. they all turned to you, puzzled looks on their face. you saw yeonjun’s eyes scan the notebook again. “what about soobin? where does he fit into all of this? even if we did just leave the party, what would i even say to him? does he come with us?”

at your last question, they all looked around the table. “damn… i kinda forgot about him,” you heard jake mutter under his breath.

yeonjun looked at you, “do you want him to join us?” you shrugged a little. “if you guys don’t want him there then i don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“it’s your birthday, y/n,” kai said. “it doesn’t matter if we don’t want him there. it matters if you do or not.” murmurs of agreement sounded off around the table.

you looked down to your hands, “i mean, i would like him there. he is my boyfriend. but still…” yunjin wrapped her arms around you. “then it’s settled!”

the new plan was that soobin really didn’t even need to know about the backup plan. again, it was just precautions that probably wouldn’t even happen. as for where he fits in with the main plan, if we decided to leave or not go at all, then you would just tell him to meet you at the beach instead. he joins in with the usual birthday celebrations and follows us back to yeonjun’s place.

“alright then!” yeonjun exclaimed as he closed the notebook. he stood and we all followed suit. “is everyone well versed with the plans?” we all nodded and yeonjun nodded in satisfaction.

“tomorrow is the party,” kai started, “which means that today will be spent with all of us choosing outfits.” he took your hands in his.

“especially the birthday girl! now, i already have the most amazing outfit picked out so unfortunately you will look second best on your birthday, but that’s okay! at least it’s still second!” you laughed as kai wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“we gotta have you looking sexy!” yunjin squealed a little. “we want not only soobin all over you, but everyone else there too!”

you stopped in your tracks a little, “uh, i don’t know about—“

“you’re gonna look so good, the whole house is gonna want to get with you for a night!”

today was the day. it was your birthday, and you were another year older. the thought filled you with brief dread, but you tried not to focus on that.

your phone was blown up with a bunch of happy birthday messages and your heart couldn’t help but feel full. even though your friends posted embarrassing pictures of you on social media.

it was bright and early in the morning, and thankfully you didn’t have any classes today. your phone began to ring. you checked the caller id to see that it was your boyfriend, soobin.

“hello?” you answered.

“happy birthday, baby,” soobin replied.

a smile immediately broke out on your face. you held in the urge to giggle as you laid back down on your bed. “thank you! how did you even know i was awake?”

you heard him laugh through the phone. “i figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep that well.” he was right. you were tossing and turning all night. you looked to your side and were thankful that your roommate had basically moved out already.

“i wanna do something with you before the party,” soobin continued. “just you and i.” your smile widened and you nodded even though he couldn’t see it.

“okay! come over right now!”

it didn’t take long at all for soobin to get to your dorm room. it felt like he was honestly waiting at your door with how fast he arrived. he told you he was at taehyun’s dorm since he was helping him study for exams.

“he said happy birthday by the way,” soobin said, referring to taehyun. soobin was still in his pajamas too and he looked like he had just gotten up as well.

“tell him i said thank you!” you replied. “you look like you just woke up.” he laughed a little as he laid down on your bed.

“i’ve been basically up all night hammering these notes into my head.” he covered himself with your covers and closed his eyes. you sat on the edge of the bed next to him.

“don’t fall asleep, soobin! you said you were here for me!” you pouted a little. his arms sprang out from the covers and wrapped around you, pulling you down. you were now literally laying on top of him.

“there, that’s better,” he said. you started giggling, which was ultimately muffled by the covers. you turned your head to the side and stared at his profile. you were basically laying like a stick.

“this is very uncomfortable,” you smiled. his hands traveled down your body until he was at your legs. he moved them so that you were now straddling him. you sat up and looked down at him.

“this was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” you asked. it was like your words went in one ear and out the other as he just stared up at you. you felt his hands at your hips.

you snapped a finger in his face. “earth to soobin?”

he blinked a couple of times before a smile slowly spread on his face. “i’m sorry, but you cannot be looking down on me like this.” you rolled your eyes as you laid down on his chest.

“so what did you want to do?” you asked. you felt him shrug as his hands laid on your back, rubbing small circles on it. “i just wanted to be with you.”

“and sleep with me apparently,” you said as you looked at his closed eyes. they immediately flew open and he looked over at you. you sighed and rolled your eyes again. “sleep as in sleeping, not as in sex.”

he smirked a little and adjusted the two of you slightly so he could see you better. “i mean… it could be both if you want it to be.”

you didn’t even give him an answer, just laughed a little and turned your head to the other side.

he rolled you until you were laying beside him. “i’m content with just sleeping with you.” you intertwined your hand with his and you gazed at him. smiling, you gave him a soft kiss.

“i don’t think i’d be able to sleep right now even if i tried. but if you’re tired then be my guest, the plans don’t start until way later today.”

soobin pulled you close and put his chin on the top of your head. “mmm… if you’re not sleeping then i’m not either. i want as much time with you today that i can get.” you giggled at that.

a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. you were wide awake listening to soobin’s breathing and his heartbeat. you were sure that he fell asleep.

“i love you, soobin,” you said quietly, a small smile on your face. his hold on you tightened and you tensed a little. you were so sure he was asleep.

“i love you, y/n.”

you looked up and he moved his head so that your foreheads were touching. “you do?” you sheepishly asked. soobin chuckled.

“of course i do.”

he brought his lips to yours. it began soft, but with the heightened emotions and adrenaline running through both of your veins, it didn’t take long before it started to get heated.

you ran your hand through his hair to get it out of his face, lightly gripping the ends and causing his head to tilt back slightly. soobin broke away, about to say something, but you chased his lips hungrily.

he turned onto his back, taking you with him by the hips so you were straddling him again. the covers were tangled in between your bodies. your skin felt like it was on fire and your heart felt like it was gonna combust.

“y/n…” soobin said between kisses. you mumbled a reply, not bothering to take your lips off his. you put your hands flat on his chest and rocked your hips a little.

“y/n…” he said again, and pulled back slightly. you sat up a little, trying to catch your breath. “yeah?”

“are you sure about this?” he asked. “you know i was just kidding earlier. we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

you sat back fully. “i want to. i’m sure,” you replied. you went to lean in again but he stopped you.

“are you sure sure? i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. and if i hurt you in any way make sure you let me know and we can stop.”

you laughed at how worried he was. “i am one hundred percent completely sure i want to do this. i promise you.” you kissed him deeply again and he brought his hands to your hips and began guiding them. you softly moaned in satisfaction.

he then suddenly pulled away.

soobin smiled up at you. in one swift motion you were suddenly under him. you let out a small squeal at the sudden change. he smirked a little, put his lips to your ear, and in a low voice said, “happy birthday, baby.”

soobin then took off his shirt and brought his lips back down onto yours.

you were asleep across soobin’s chest when you were awoken by your phone absolutely blowing up. you checked the time and saw that it was around 5:30 in the afternoon now. the room was dark as the sun began to set.

the light of your phone blinded you as you got an incoming call. you squinted your eyes and began clicking around on the screen until it answered. you put the phone to your ear and let out a groggy “hello?”

“what the fuck!?” yelled yunjin’s voice. it was a facetime call and not a regular one. you quickly moved the phone away from your ear as it started ringing and angled it towards your face. you mumbled a response to yunjin.

“are you naked right now?” yunjin yelled even louder. this woke up soobin and he sat up next to you, sleepily looking at the phone.

“oh my god, so it wasn’t a prank,” yunjin gasped. the camera shook as she began to move and suddenly all your friends were on the screen. you groaned.

“this is so ridiculous,” you muttered.

“let’s hope she can walk well later tonight for this party,” jake said and the group laughed. you heard soobin laugh beside you and you pushed him away. it only caused him to laugh harder.

“goodbye!” you said as your cheeks heated. you didn’t listen to what they began to say as you ended the call. you ran a hand over your face and laid back, throwing the phone to your side.

soobin reached over and grabbed it. he began looking through all the notifications from your friends, laughing at some.

“i don’t think you want to open the group chat for a while…” soobin said, smiling as he looked over at you. you let out a loud and dramatic sigh. soobin laughed as he sat your phone back on the bedside table. he laid back down and pulled you to his chest.

“let’s just stay like this,” he then said.

you chuckled, “nice try. if we stay like this we’ll fall back asleep. and i need to take a shower.” you then tried to get up but his arms locked tighter around you.

“come on, stay in bed with me.” you laughed and shook your head. it was his turn to let out a loud and dramatic sigh as you sat up.

you watched as soobin’s eyes trailed down your body. gasping, you wrapped the blankets around you.

“how dare you look at me like way!” you say playfully. he smiled and sat up, placing kisses all over your cheeks.

“let’s go then!” soobin said as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. you looked at him, confused.

“go where…?”

“to shower, duh!” he replied. you let out a shocked laugh and shook your head.

“absolutely not!”

soobin turned to look back at you. “it’ll be faster, come on! don’t be shy! i literally just saw you naked.” the corner of his mouth tilted up and you pushed him a little.

“that’s different!”

“how?!”

you hesitated. you didn’t really know how it was different, but it just was! sex and showering together were two very different things! besides… the dorm showers were not the place to be showering together. granted, your dorm did luckily have its own bathroom.

“but the dorm—“

soobin swiftly cut you off. “exactly, not different at all. let’s go!” he tugged at your hand and you sighed as you got up, a small smile playing on your lips.

you and soobin met up with your friends around 8pm at yeonjun’s apartment. as soon as you stepped through the door, there were a loud chorus of cheers. your cheeks were immediately hot and you turned and buried your face in soobin’s jacket. you felt his chest vibrate as he laid a hand on the back of your head.

you turned and looked at them from over your shoulder. “i hate you guys so much.”

yunjin came up to you and took you from soobin’s arms. “someone’s glowing!” you rolled your eyes. you had a feeling that they were gonna come out of your head with how much you’ll probably be doing that today.

“steady now!” you heard jake say. you told him to fuck off.

yunjin took you away from the group, who were lounging at the table with some snacks, and took you into the bathroom. she locked the door behind her and turned back to you with the biggest smile on her face. “tell me everything!”

you hid your face in your hands, but began recalling the events. from soobin’s call, to him coming over, and to when she called. her hand was over her mouth hiding a wide grin.

“i’m surprised it was only one time!” she said after you were finished. you looked to the floor and said nothing. she gasped.

“twice?” you looked up to the ceiling, your lip between your teeth.

“no fucking way… three times?!” she practically yelled. you had to quickly smack a hand over her mouth. you were praying that the others didn’t hear.

you hid your face in your hands again as you sat on the edge of the tub.

“where??” her eyes were wide and she practically was shaking you for the answer.

“well the bed, obviously…” you started. “and the shower after… and in the car on the way here…” you muttered the second part. “damn!” yunjin said and then squealed. you wished you could sink down into the drain.

“i don’t know what’s gotten into me, i literally couldn’t keep my hands off him!” yunjin broke into a laugh.

“well, i know what’s gotten into you…” your mouth fell open and you smacked her arm. her laugh grew louder. “shut the fuck up! it’s not funny!”

you left the bathroom with yunjin, your hands covering your heated face as you went back to the living area

you heard murmurs grow and you quickly said, “if anyone else says something to me you will be dead in a ditch!” you then heard soobin’s laugh as he gently moved your hands away from your face.

“look at her cheeks!” kai said. you quickly shot him a fierce glare and he busted out laughing. you wrapped your arms around soobin and put your face into his shirt. “go to hell,” you said, muffled.

“let’s have her blow out her candles,” yeonjun announced, stifling a laugh.

you pulled away from soobin and ran your hands over your face before sighing dramatically.

yeonjun pulled out a cupcake from the box he had on the kitchen counter. he then pulled out a pack of numbered candles and put some on the cupcake. you sat at the table and yeonjun sat the cupcake in front of you and lit it. the others crowded around you as they began to sing happy birthday to you.

“make a wish!” jake said.

you thought it over for a moment. you had everything you could ever wish for right here in this room with you. what more could you ask for? then it occurred to you… you wish your life could be like this forever. surrounded by the people you love most in this world, and knowing they love you back just as much, if not more.

you barely got to blow out the candles before everyone began to cheer. soobin leaned down next to you.

“i love you, happy birthday.” he whispered in your ear and then gave you a kiss on the cheek.

hueningkai pulled you to your feet. “let’s sing!”

instead of going to a karaoke place, you and your friends found it much more fun to just put the songs on youtube and sing along in the comfort of your own spaces.

you moved to the couch as yeonjun set his tv up. yunjin snatched the remote from him and put on bubblegum bitch by marina and the diamonds.

yunjin handed you another remote and you stood up as she pressed play. she held the remote to her mouth as the song started playing. you’ve sung this song together so many times before that you each have your own designated parts.

i’ve got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll. don’t care if you think i’m dumb. i don’t care at all. candy bear, sweetie pie, i wanna be adored. i’m the girl you’d die for.

she took your hand as she spun around the living room. jake and kai moved the table out of the way so you’d have more space.

the rest of the group sat on the couch. you turned to them as your part came up.

i’ll chew you up and i’ll spit you out. cause that’s what young love is all about. so pull me closer…

you leaned down and took soobin lightly by the shirt. you then gave him a quick peck on the lips.

…and kiss me hard. i’m gonna pop your bubblegum heart!

you pulled away and went to yunjin and stood back to back as you both got ready to sing the next part together.

i’m miss sugar pink, liquor, liquor, lips. hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss. i’m miss sugar pink, liquor, liquor, lips. i’m gonna be your bubblegum bitch.

you and yunjin then started the dance you rehearsed.

the others ‘ooh’ed and clapped a little. yunjin stood off to the side and began to walk to the center of the living room as she sang her next part. a finger in the air.

queentex, latex, i’m your wonder maid. life gave me some lemons, so i made some lemonade. soda pop, soda pop, baby, here i come. straight to number one.

you quickly ran up to her, a hopeful expression on your face.

oh, “dear diary”, i met a boy. he made my doll heart light up with joy!

you turned to soobin, making a heart in the air around his face. his cheeks turned red as he smiled and the other laughed.

you turned back to yunjin, trailing your finger down your cheek in lieu of tears.

oh, “dear diary”, we fell apart.

you didn’t even get to get your next part out as the rest of them sang along.

welcome to the life of electra heart!

you and yunjin continued the rest of the song. striking a pose at the end as your friends cheered. you looked at each other and shrugged nonchalantly.

“i know, i know, we’re amazing!” yunjin said as she playfully waved and threw out air kisses.

“we’ll see you next week!” you yelled.

that’s how the hours leading up to your birthday party at sakura’s unfolded. you each taking turns singing songs and doing duets. some were amazing, others were kai and jake singing a duet of wouldn’t change a thing from camp rock 2. you even got soobin to sing.

when it got to be about two hours until the party, you all decided to get ready. yeonjun kept banging on the bathroom door while you and yunjin were doing your makeup to let him in so he could check his reflection.

compared to your outfits from the last party of sakura’s you’ve attended, these outfits were much better. you looked like celebrities about to go on the red carpet.

yunjin made you get dressed in the bathroom so your outfit would be a surprise. as soon as the two of you walked back into the living area, it was so silent you could hear a pin drop. your friends’ and you boyfriend’s mouth hung open. yunjin just smiled and gave you a knowing look.

you all drove back to the dorms for the walk over to sakura’s. soobin was a little curious about the bags you were carrying, but yeonjun just chalked it up to various birthday stuff. you can tell that it confused your boyfriend a little, but he didn’t say anything else about it.

the crowd outside sakura’s house seemed even bigger than the crowd from last time. you were about to stand behind and wait your turn, but one of the security guards waved you and your friends up to him.

the security guard looked directly at soobin. “your friends, sir?”

soobin looked caught off guard for a moment before he said, “ah, yes…” he then pointed to you. “the birthday girl.”

realization showed through on the guard’s face and he opened the gate to let your group through.

the bags ended up getting discretely stuffed in some bushes close to the door. you hoped that you and your friends wouldn’t be too drunk to remember where they are if you needed them.

you kept a small little hand bag on you that mainly held your phone and headphones. your heart thumped in your chest as you grew closer and closer to the door. soobin took your hand and gave you a small comforting smile.

inside, the party was already in full swing. now that you were more familiar with the layout, it didn’t feel as overwhelming. you all circled around each other.

“do you guys wanna get drinks or do you just wanna to go straight upstairs?” soobin yelled to you all over the music. you all voted on drinks. after downing a couple, except for kai who decided to stay sober, you all made your way to the stairs and up to the fourth floor.

you once again bypassed another guard who stepped aside as he saw your group. sakura spotted you all and stood up from the circle of people surrounding her. she made her way over to you.

“y/n you look so lovely! happy birthday!” she air hugged you and then gave you two cheek air kisses. you smiled at her, “thank you so much, sakura!”

she led you all towards the empty couch that she must’ve saved for you and your friends. drinks immediately began getting served to you all.

“i have a cake for you, and then you’ll get your special surprise!” sakura smiled. you returned the smile. “but until they bring the cake out, drink up!”

sakura took a seat back in the center of the half circle of people. the music wasn’t as loud up here as it was on the other floors, so you could speak pretty comfortably. the fourth floor was also bigger, which helped.

you turned to your friends. yeonjun held up a finger from the hand that was holding the glass that was handed out. he took a sip from it and after a moment he nodded that it was good.

you tasted it yourself and was shocked that it was so sweet. it didn’t even taste like alcohol. you were already starting to feel a little tipsy from your other drinks. there was no doubt that this drink was gonna hit you a few minutes from now like a pound of bricks.

yunjin and kai went to where people were dancing and yeonjun and jake scoped out some escape routes. it was just you and soobin alone.

“you alright?” soobin asked. you looked over at him as you took another sip of your drink and nodded.

“yeah, i’m having a good time so far! i wonder what cake sakura got.” soobin stood. “let me see if i can go look, i’ll be right back.”

he pulled out his phone and shook it a little as if to say “text me if you need me.” you gave him a thumbs up as he made his way towards a hallway that led somewhere you couldn’t see.

you scanned your surroundings as you finished your drink. you gave a glance over at sakura to see that she was in her own world. the people around her were laughing at whatever she was telling them.

you decided that you wanted to dance. you began to sit down the glass you were holding on the table but a staff member appeared before you, taking it from you and handing you another. you jumped at their sudden appearance, but thanked them reluctantly.

this time you drank half of the glass and left the other half for later. the first one still hasn’t hit yet and you didn’t want to be so drunk again that you could barely walk. you took the glass with you as you made your way to where people were dancing to look for your friends.

“y/n!” you heard kai shout. you turned towards the direction of his voice and saw him and yunjin waving you over. a couple people told you happy birthday as you made your way over. your cheeks were slightly heated as you reached them.

“this place is like a whole different world,” yunjin said. you nodded in agreement. “i went to sit my other glass down and before i could someone was already putting another in my hand.” their eyebrows raised and shocked smiled appeared on their faces. they looked at each other in disbelief.

the three of you started to dance to the music, which was actually good. you felt a little silly for bringing your headphones now.

you felt hands snake around your waist and someone come up behind you. you quickly turned to see who it was, letting out a sigh of relief when it was just soobin.

you turned back around and continued dancing. he leaned down to your ear. “they wouldn’t let me in, but i did see a glimpse of it. all i saw was white.”

he took the glass from your hand and drank the remaining contents. you turned with a shocked look on your face. “i was gonna drink that!”

soobin looked you up and down with an eyebrow raised and just shook his head. he was laughing but you couldn’t hear it over the music. you realized that you were already starting to sway while trying to stand still. you swayed a little too much and he quickly steadied you.

you smiled up at him sheepishly. you could hear his laugh now as he bent down to press his forehead to yours. “i wasn’t even gone that long! how much did you drink?” you giggled. your brain was too foggy to recall. he shook his head a little as he kissed you.

at some point, yeonjun and jake joined the rest of you on the dance floor. you all danced for a while, got some more drinks—soobin didn’t let you have anymore of whatever was in those glasses—and made your way back to the couch.

you saw soobin’s friends, taehyun, beomgyu, and sunghoon, make their way over to where you all were sitting. they sat on the loveseat diagonal from you.

“happy birthday, y/n!” taehyun said as he sat. you smiled and thanked him. the other two mumbled a happy birthday and you thanked them too.

“so, who’s your friends?” taehyun asked. your eyebrows briefly shot up as you turned to your friends. you began introducing them one by one as you went down the line. yeonjun didn’t even look up at him.

after introducing your friends you said, “and this is taehyun, beomgyu, and sunghoon.” your friends said their hellos while beomgyu and sunghoon waved.

the whole exchange was very awkward. you glanced over to soobin. he put his hand on your back and subtly pulled you closer.

you saw sakura stand as a huge tv got rolled out to the center of the room, along with a table with a cake on it. the cake was in a fancy cake holder, so you couldn’t see what it looked like. someone handed sakura a microphone and she turned it on, giving it a small tap to confirm.

“hi everyone! as you know, this is y/n’s birthday party! can you make some noise for the birthday girl?!” she waved in your direction and suddenly a bright light shined on you, catching you off guard. you tried your best not to let it show as you smiled and waved. you heard the whole house go wild, especially your friends who were next to you.

“now it is time for her cake and her very special surprise! who’s ready?” sakura continued. you clapped a little and smiled for everyone who was watching you, but your heart was thundering in your chest. soobin’s hand moved from your back and gripped your waist.

you glanced over to your friends to see that they were all suddenly as alert as a hawk as the clapped and pretended to smile. their eyes scanned the room, especially the tv and table that got rolled out.

sakura walked over to you and were slightly thankful that the spotlight wasn’t completely on you anymore. even if it was sakura who was next to you. she held out a hand and you took it and stood.

“let’s have her blow out the candles!” sakura cheered. she began to guide you to the tv and table at the center of the room and you could see your friends and soobin following hot on your heels.

once you got to the table, sakura made everyone take a couple steps back so that you were the focus. you could tell this deeply troubled your friends, as they were as close as they could get. you were really nervous now that you might actually get a face full of cake and it would be displayed on the tv or something. suddenly it felt like all the alcohol left your body.

“let’s sing happy birthday on three!” sakura said and then began to count down. once she hit three, you could hear the whole house begin to sing. the microphone must’ve went to the lower floors too. you looked around as they sang, plastering a smile on your face. you were really searching for cameras. thankfully, you saw none, but that only put you at more unease.

“now time for the cake and surprise!” sakura then said. she came up next to you just as the tv switched on. you saw her switch the microphone off. “happy birthday,” she said and she gave you a smile as she grabbed the lid of the cake holder and took it off, handing it to a staff member nearby.

you looked down at the cake. it was completely white with two words in black lettering, ‘LOOK UP’. glancing over to sakura, her head was tilted slightly, a slight smirk on her lips. you did as the cake said and a video began playing.

whoever was taking the video was struggling to hold the camera up. you heard sakura’s voice from the video suddenly. “are you recording this? he’s so drunk, make sure you’re recording this so he can watch it back tomorrow.”

another voice started speaking, it sounded like beomgyu’s. “i’m recording! i’m recording! soobin…” he trailed off. you furrowed your brows.

what is this? and why are they mentioning soobin? your mind raced and you swayed a little. you looked back to him and your friends. soobin was being held back by beomgyu and sunghoon. he was looking at you with wide eyes of horror. your brows furrowed further, security was holding your friends back. you couldn’t hear them well over the video. everyone was now staring at you, some with smiles on their faces.

you turned back to the tv to see that soobin was now on the screen, clearly very drunk. your hands started to shake as your heart fell into your stomach.

—SOOBIN’S POV—

the color drained from soobin’s face as soon as the video started playing and he heard the familiar conversation play out for y/n to see. for everyone to see.

his body began to move towards her before two people harshly grabbed his arms and yanked him back.

“not so fast, pretty boy,” he heard sunghoon say near his ear.

soobin realized too late what this whole thing was. sakura knew, and she decided she wanted to kill two birds with one stone. and she wanted it to hurt. why else would she do this on y/n’s birthday of all days?

soobin pushed and pulled against the two people he thought were his friends, but to no avail. he stared at y/n in horror as the video continued.

when she looked back at him, clearly confused, he felt his heart get ripped out his chest. he could see that she was scared now. soobin, too late, also realized the fact that security was holding back her friends.

“get your fucking hands off of me!” he could hear yunjin shout, but it felt so far away.

he then heard sunghoon’s voice from the screen. “we bet that soobin couldn’t get with the most unpopular girl in school.” then he heard his own idiotic voice sound back at him like a grenade. “how much? how much? i’m not getting with some loser if i’m not getting paid for this shit.”

y/n put a shaky hand to her mouth. he watched through her body language as she began to realize what she was watching. she stood frozen in her spot in front of the cake.

soobin wanted to bang his head repeatedly off the ground. he wanted to rip his own voice box out so that he’d never be able to speak again.

he listened as he and his friends began throwing out numbers until landing on five hundred dollars. and him asking who he would be seducing.

“what’s that one girl’s name? yunjin… her friend?” beomgyu spoke.

no. this could no be happening right now.

“that’s where the real challenge is at! a month… to at least almost get to third base!”

soobin closed his eyes as his world came crashing down around him. “this will be easy. sunghoon, you better get my money ready!” he heard himself say.

sakura then tapped the microphone, causing him to open his eyes. sunghoon and beomgyu let go of him finally. she had a large wad of cash in her hand as she handed it to y/n. y/n turned to her, there were tears in her eyes that were threatening to spill. she didn’t take the money so sakura put it in her hands herself.

“five hundred dollars! don’t worry soobin,” sakura said, turning to him, “it’s all there. promise!”

soobin ran up to y/n. “please, y/n. please listen to me…” his voice cracked as he grabbed her arms which caused her to look up to him.

the money dropped from her hands and spread out all over the floor around them. the tears in y/n’s eyes fell. soobin felt himself crumble completely.

y/n opened her mouth, but no words came out. soobin could understand her perfectly clear. why?

“i… i gave you everything…” y/n managed to say, barely a whisper. she slipped from his arms and ran off towards the stairs.

the music then suddenly cut on as soobin stood there frozen, trying not to let his own tears fall.

“you thought you could have your cake and fucking eat it too?” he heard yunjin’s voice say as her hand landed hard on his cheek. his head flew to the side and he brought his hand up to touch his face. hands harshly grabbed him and turned him.

briefly, soobin saw jake and hueningkai running towards the stairs after y/n. yeonjun was stalking his way towards soobin after talking to them. the deadliest look was on his face.

he was brought back to the scene in front of him as yunjin got in his face. he couldn’t even process what she was saying, he was only thinking about y/n.

soobin will never forget the look in her eyes. the absolute hurt and betrayal in them. the way he watched as her heart broke into a million little pieces. he would do anything to be able explain it all to her. he would do anything to go back to earlier this morning. just the two of them, laying together in comfortable silence in her bed. to when she said she loves him. all of that, gone in an instant. maybe taehyun was right, he was icarus.

a fist connected with his face and he tumbled to the ground. soobin barely saw that it was yeonjun before he got on top of him and started landing punch after punch. soobin let him, he deserved it. he was so numb he didn’t even feel the pain.

yeonjun was pulled off him by security guards and soobin was hauled to his feet. he saw yeonjun shrug them off and wipe his bloodied knuckles on his clothes.

“if i ever see you again, you’re fucking dead.” yeonjun said before walking off with a furious yunjin.

sakura was then in front of him. “don’t say that i never helped you.”

you didn’t know where you were or where you were going. you swayed in the middle of the street as you drank from the bottle of whatever alcohol your friends brought to the party. the tears you shed were long dried the more you drank. it was pitch black outside, the only light guiding your way was from the streetlights every couple meters. you had your headphones on and turned up to the max volume. blue light by mitski was playing through them.

somebody kiss me, i’m going crazy. i’m walking round the house naked, silver in the night.

your phone kept blowing up so you put it on silent. you turned your location off too. you just wanted to be alone. just you and this lonely world.

when you ran, you grabbed the bag with the alcohol and cut through some bushes and then some yards. then went down some various streets and alleys. even if you wanted people to know where you were, you wouldn’t be able to even give them a hint.

a car pulled up beside you. you didn’t even bother to look over or stop walking. you didn’t care. you took another drink from the bottle.

are you that blue light? are you that blue light? are you that blue light? are you…?

the driver’s window rolled down. “y/n?” you couldn’t quite place the voice and you could barely hear them so you decided to look over and take one of your headphones out. taehyun looked at you, a worried expression on his face.

“leave me alone,” you replied. it came out a lot more slurred than you were expecting.

“you’re swaying violently and drinking straight from the bottle in the middle of the road. can you please get in the car?”

you shook your head and almost fell over. “no… you’ll just take me back to him.”

the car stopped and you heard the door open and footsteps run up to you. you kept walking.

“back to who? soobin? what happened in that house?”

you stopped and gave him a fierce glare. it took everything in you not to smash the bottle across his head for asking you such a stupid question. “don’t act like you don’t know what fucking happened. and don’t act like you weren’t in on this whole thing the entire fucking time.”

taehyun sighed and there was a long moment of silence as you got further and further down whatever street you were on.

“i promise you, i thought the bet was called off after you guys had your first date. i never knew it would get this far.”

you scoffed at him. you remembered what soobin told you about him, taehyun was the nicest out of all of them, but don’t underestimate his rudeness. ugh. even in your darkest moments you were still thinking about him.

“regardless, i can't just leave you out here alone, drunk, and walking in the middle of the road in the middle of the night. at least let me take you back to your dorm.”

you took another drink from the bottle. you knew at any given moment you will probably pass out from how drunk you are. taking a look around you, you let out a sigh. you really didn’t feel like standing your ground right now either.

you stopped walking and turned to taehyun. “fine, but i don’t want to go back to my dorm. everyone will be waiting for me there and i just want to be alone.” taehyun nodded.

“okay. you can stay at my dorm then. i’ll tell beomgyu i need it to myself for the night to study and i’ll stay somewhere else. you won’t need to worry about him in the morning either, he’ll most likely be passed out at sakura’s until late afternoon.”

you flinched a little at her name. you took a deep breath and shrugged. taehyun gently took the bottle and cap from you. it was a little over halfway gone. he screwed the cap back on and then threw your arm over his shoulders. you both made your way back to his car.

when you were safe in the passenger’s seat and driving down the road you turned to taehyun. “how did you even know where to find me?”

he glanced at you for a second before putting his eyes back on the road. “soobin called me freaking out. he said he overheard your friends saying how you disappeared and they couldn’t find you at all.” you heart dropped for a brief moment. you should probably tell your friends you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere.

“it was bad. he was crying. he begged me to come out here and look for you so i just started driving down random streets around sakura’s area.” you rolled your eyes.

you pulled your phone out of the small bag you still had with you, just now realizing that somewhere along your walk you lost the bag that had the alcohol bottle in it. you quickly texted in the group chat “not dead in a ditch somewhere. will meet you in my dorm in the morning if i’m awake by then.” or at least, that’s what you meant to type. you then completely shut your phone off and put it back in the bag along the headphones that were still in your ears.

taehyun reached the dorms and you stumbled out of the car, barely stopping yourself from face planting on the concrete. “woah, careful,” taehyun said as he guided you to the doors.

the trek to his room was a rough one, but you made it somehow. you went to his couch and immediately laid down, your head spinning.

“you can sleep in my bed if you want to, i don’t mind.” taehyun told you, but you just shook your head. there’s no way you were gonna be able to get back up.

“i’ll be in in the morning to leave you some ibuprofen.” you mumbled a response, already half asleep.

before you completely dozed off, you felt taehyun place a blanket over you.

—SOOBIN’S POV—

as soon as soobin saw taehyun’s name show up on his phone, he immediately picked up the call.

“well?” soobin asked, his voice was hoarse. he didn’t care. he was sitting outside by the dorms in his car in case he could catch a glimpse of y/n somewhere.

soobin was sick with worry. when he overheard jake say that they couldn’t find her, his mind immediately went to the worst possible option.

“i found her,” taehyun replied. soobin let out the biggest sigh of relief as he rested his head against the steering wheel. “where is she?”

“she said she doesn’t want to see you. but she’s sleeping right now.”

“taehyun just tell me where she fucking is.” soobin really didn’t have time for this. he needed to see for himself that she was okay. it was driving him crazy.

taehyun sighed on the line. “she’s sleeping on the couch in my dorm. but—“ soobin didn’t care for what else he had to say. he reversed into the dorm parking lot and got out, slamming his door shut behind him.

he sprinted to the doors and didn’t bother with the elevator as he ran up the stairs. he had too much pent up adrenaline to even be tired.

taehyun was waiting outside his door. soobin tried to walk past him and open the door but taehyun held a hand out to stop him. “is she in there?” soobin breathed.

taehyun shushed him. “she’s asleep! you shouldn’t even be here.” he said in a hushed tone. soobin waved him off. “i found her in the middle of the road swaying from side to side and drinking this straight from the bottle.” taehyun held up a rather large bottle of alcohol that was a little over half empty. soobin had to grip onto the edge of the door frame to steady himself.

“you fucked up, badly,” taehyun said as he slowly eased the door open for him.

soobin closed his eyes and leaned against the door as soon as he saw her peacefully asleep. he took careful steps further into the room. taehyun took him by the arm.

“you can stay, but you have until morning to be gone before she wakes up.” taehyun whispered. soobin just nodded, not taking his eyes off y/n. “and you look terrible, you need to go get those cuts checked out.”

when soobin looked in his rear view mirror after racing back to the dorms, he saw that he had the beginning of a black eye, a swollen and cut lip, and probably a broken nose. he couldn’t care less about himself right now. the wounds didn’t even hurt.

taehyun left soon after, locking the door behind him.

soobin knows that y/n doesn't want to see him right now. or clearly anybody right now. but he couldn’t bare to leave her alone, especially not tonight. he knows how much he fucked up. he said he wasn’t gonna break her heart again and he did. he wanted to rip his hair out. yunjin was right, he thought he could have his cake and eat it too.

he’ll give y/n however long she needed. he just desperately needed her to listen to what he has to say. just once. and if she decides that she never wants anything to do with him after, he’ll live with the consequences.

soobin rounded the table and quietly sat on it in front of y/n. he watched as her chest rose and fell from her breathing. before he could stop himself, his hand was already cupping her cheek, his thumb rubbing small circles into it. thankfully, she didn’t even stir. she must’ve been extremely drunk.

rounding the table again, soobin sat on the floor and laid his head in his arms on the table. he silently watched her. he was afraid that if he took his eyes off of her for even a second she would stop breathing or disappear.

soobin decided that he would stay up the rest of the night and however long he had with her in the morning to make sure nothing happened, not that he was going to get much sleep anyways.

masterlist.

summary: choi soobin has always been the popular kid surrounded by his popular friends. y/n… not so much. one night, soobin and his friends make bet that soobin can’t get y/n to date him in a month. unfortunately for y/n, they’re a hopeless romantic.

A/N: i am so sorry for this one… cause why i shed a tear and I’M the one who wrote it…

taglist: @imagineyour-kpopboy @gothgyuu @carengene @spooksh0wbabe (if your name is bold it wouldn’t let me tag you!)

— kipo <3

#📼 — ALL FOR A BET ⸝ ˚⋆ #txt #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt x reader #txt social media au #txt smau #txt beomgyu #txt huening kai #txt soobin #txt yeonjun #txt taehyun #tomorrow x together #choi soobin smau #choi soobin x reader #soobin x reader #soobin x y/n #soobin #kpop smau #kpop social media au #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop #le sserafim yunjin #le sserafim sakura #enhypen jake sim #enhypen sunghoon #tomorrow x together social media au #tomorrow x together imagines #kpop x reader

[billlydear]

BASIC BIOLOGY - BILLY HARGROVE X READER (PART ONE) | PART TWO | PART THREE

word count: 4926 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

Summary: you're paired with billy for a biology project. you only visit his house once, but it's enough for you to understand why he doesn't want you to come over again. when he starts showing up more and more in your life, you realize that it's basic biology: you were made for him, and he was made for you.

Contents: gn!reader (let me know if i made a mistake on that anywhere!), the climax is a scene that's based on 2.8 (?) where billy finds out that max is missing, and neil shoves him into the closet and slaps him. it's not word-for-word, it's about a different scenario, but it's the same fight. please don't read this if it'll trigger you. fluff, angst, eventual happy ending.

A/N: i hope that you enjoy this! it's been a brainworm of mine for a while, and i'm thrilled to have the first part finished. let me know what you think! I honestly think that this could just be read as a one-shot, so don't let the 'part one' deter you 😅

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

To say that you’re not thrilled about your partner assignment for this biology project is an understatement. Billy Hargrove, said partner, is smoking out the window, and you’re not even sure if he’s heard that you’re partners yet. The most he gives you is a steady glance from across the room, but you think that he might have just felt you burning a hole in the side of his head with your imploring gaze. 

When you’re all released to plan with your partners he makes no move to stand. He only curls his lips tighter around the cigarette and sucks down smoke.

You bite the bullet and stand, clutching your assignment sheet in your hands that are growing sweaty with nerves.

“Hi,” You supply lamely, taking the seat next to him that’s been vacated by his previous seatmate, “I guess we’re partners, then.”

“I guess.” He drawls, tilting his head towards the window to let smoke billow from between his lips. “So, what, you wanna come to mine?”

You freeze. He’s more forward than you’d expected. “Uh,” You thumb through the notes you’d taken, the project rubric, “Like- like today? After school?”

“Yeah,” He hangs his arm out the window to snuff the cigarette out on the sil, “My folks won’t be home ‘til late. We’ll have time to work.”

“Okay,” You agree cautiously, glancing over at his empty rubric sheet, concerningly devoid of notes, “Uh, what’s your address?”

“I’ll just drive you,” He glances at the clock, showcasing three minutes to dismissal, “I’ve gotta take my stepsister home too, though, so we’ll pull into the middle school first.”

“Oh. Thank you,” You blink, fingers curling tight around your papers, “I’ll, uh- go get my stuff.”

You rush back to your seat to pack your bag with a strange haze over your thoughts. Everyone knew Billy, what he wanted, what he did. He was notoriously forward, and though he had been straight to the point, you hadn’t felt like... prey. Still, something tugged at the pit of your stomach, a warning to be careful.

The bell rings and you turn, finding a pair of worn boots in your line of sight. You glance up at the wearer, finding Billy already waiting for you.

“Uh, sorry,” You stammer, rushing to stand and subsequently hitting your head on the desk, “Fuck-!”

“Jesus,” Billy chuckles, and you’re worried you’ll analyze the sound and find components of mockery in it, “Careful.”

“It’s fine,” You hiss, but before you can rub at the spot you’d hit, Billy’s hand is there, mussing your hair and pushing you forwards, towards the door of the class. It’s something you’d do to your clumsy younger brother, and it feels odd coming from the chain smoking California kid everyone talks about.

“My stepsister’s out in twenty,” He informs you, a presence on your left as you walk out the front doors of the school, “So we’ve got, like, fifteen minutes to talk about our plan, if you want.”

“That’s good,” You hum, trailing after him to an impressively flashy car, “I think we should just draw everything. I know she said we could use clay, but that costs more, and I’ve already got colored pencils.”

“Fine by me,” He makes for the passenger door first, throwing it open and gesturing for you to get in, “You can put your bag in the back.”

When you’re seated, he shuts the door for you, and you’re oddly grateful for the gesture. It’s kind, and once more, out of character for the stereotypes you’ve heard about him. There’s a tense few seconds of silence in the camaro as he crosses to the other side, and your cheek finds its way between your teeth. But once he gets in and starts the car up, the stereo blares to life with a mixtape you’re sure he’s made himself.

“Sorry,” He grunts, reaching for the dial, “We can talk.”

“It’s fine,” You shake your head, “I don’t mind music.”

Though he cranks the dial back up, it’s not all the way, and the music becomes background noise to the shuffling of papers in your lap.

“So,” You start, thumbing through notes and ideas, “Like I said before, clay is difficult to work with, and messy, plus we’d have to model it and let it dry, and I think leaving clay unattended in my house would result in a disaster. And if we just draw it instead, they’re simple shapes and there’s nothing too complicated to draw, whereas clay would be harder to sculpt. And-”

“Okay, okay! Let’s just draw it,” Billy chuckles again, checking his rear-view mirrors for oncoming cars as he peels out of the parking lot, “If you wanna draw it then we’ll draw it.”

“Oh. Okay.” You sit back with a huff, unsure whether to be indignant because you were cut off or grateful that you seemed to be getting along.

“If you don’t have your colored pencils with you I’m sure my stepsister has some,” He theorizes, “But maybe you should ask her. If I ask her I’ll get one jammed into my eye.”

You let out a breathy laugh, “She’s, uh- spirited, then?”

“Mean-spirited.” Billy drawls, turning a bit harder than he should down a residential street on the way to the middle school, “She sucks.”

You’re sure that Billy wouldn’t be going out of his way to pick her up from school if she sucked. Or at least, if she sucked all the time. You’re well aware siblings have their feuds, but when she runs up to the car with a skateboard in her hands, you know he’s bluffing. If he really disliked her, she could have skated home. Now you know he’s softer than he lets on, but you keep it to yourself, smiling awkwardly up at her when she pulls open your door without looking first.

“Backseat, dipshit,” Billy scoffs, “I’ve got company.”

Company. It sounds like a dirty word, at least, coming from Billy who’s company typically consisted of girls spread eagle over the hood. But you reach for your seatbelt, “I can sit in the back, if you want?”

“No.” He pushes your hand away from the buckle, nudging it into your lap, “She’s younger and she’s annoying. Backseat, dipshit.”

With a huff she slams the door, and you’re suddenly not sure that you’ll avoid a colored pencil to the eye, either. Billy’s peeling out of the parking lot before she’s even buckled her seatbelt, and she sends him a nasty glare through the rearview mirror, one that you’re sure has the power to burn a hole through his head.

“So, uh,” You turn slightly in your seat, meeting eyes with the disgruntled middle schooler, “What’s your name?”

“Maxine.” Billy drawls, at the same time she snaps, “Max,”.

“Max?” You echo cautiously, and she snaps out of her glare at Billy to size you up. She seems relieved, almost taken aback that you’d listened to her instead of her stepbrother. She nods, and her lips curl in something that you’ll take as a smile, even if it’s barely perceptible.

“I think I’ve seen you around,” You muse, “You go to the arcade, right?”

“Yeah,” She nods, “You... you wear the green converse, right?”

“That’s me,” You laugh, raising your leg and lifting the hem of your pants to showcase the olive green sneakers.

“You know what shoes they wear?” Billy sneers from the front, glancing back at her through the mirror. 

Her face flushes as she ducks it down to stare at her lap, and you’re quick to swat gently at his shoulder, “Be nice!”

He looks at the hand you’d used bewilderedly, and Max bites back an amused smirk.

You’re nervous for a moment, afraid you’d cracked some ancient rift between the two, but Billy just clenches his jaw, shooting her another glare through the mirror and turning down a side street into a residential neighborhood.

Though he’s entered new territory, he doesn’t slow down. He’s going fast enough to pummel any unfortunate child playing in the street, and your stomach twists uneasily as he only speeds up.

“Billy,” Your voice is cautious, anxious even, “Can you... slow down? There’s too many kids here, it’s making me nervous.”

“I won’t hit anyone,” He assures you, though it does little to calm you, “I know what I’m doing.”

“Maybe you- don’t!” You tense as a toddler veers too close to the street where he’s playing with a ball on his front lawn, your heart racing as he wobbles safely back towards his house, “Please, Billy?”

He doesn’t grace you with a response, and honestly, you think you’re lucky he doesn’t snap at you like he does Max, but he eases up on the gas, finally within the speed limit as he curves through neighborhoods in pursuit of his own.

He pulls into their driveway with ease, and it makes you question how often his parents are gone. Surely their cars would take precedence over his in terms of parking, and you worry about him and Max being left alone more often than not. You’re so caught up in pondering the stability of their home life that you run straight into Billy’s back as he wrestles with his keys, stumbling backwards and apologizing bashfully.

“Clumsy,” He labels you, but it sounds more like a nickname than it does an insult. A mere observation, not a crack.

Max is off to her room before you even step over the threshold, and ignores Billy’s shouts of, “Maxine, we need colored pencils!”

She slams her door in response, and his shoulders slump.

“Shitbird.” He mutters, and an involuntary laugh slips from your lips. He looks back at you with a sly grin, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over a chair.

“Inventive,” You bend down to unlace your shoes, but Billy waves you off, so you keep them on. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“We’ve got a whole list of ‘em,” He boasts, and you admire the rare mention of the two of them as a duo instead of opponents, “I think her favorite is dickwad.”

“Oh, that’s even better,” You chuckle, “I’ll have to use that.”

“She usually pairs it with another insult,” He speaks as though he’s describing the plating process of a budding young chef, “Something like insufferable or shit-for-brains really gives it an extra kick.”

You fall into a comfortable silence while he points you to his room and while the rest of the house you can see seems lifeless and sterile, his room is definitely his. Posters on the walls, laundry on the floor, a discarded shirt, a belt, and- boxers, that you only notice as he kicks them into the depths of his closet. You try not to think about them as he tosses his bag on his bed, prompting you to do the same. You rifle through your papers again, watching as he arms himself with a single pencil.

“We should plan out what we’re drawing first,” You propose, hesitant to sit on his bed before he tells you that’s where you’re working. It feels too personal, you’d almost rather sit on the floor.”

“Okay,” He nods, taking the plunge and sitting on the bed with his back against the wall, “So we’re drawing…”

“Mitosis,” You freeze, glancing up at him apprehensively through your lashes, “Have you been paying attention in class?”

“I’ve been trying to dump enough ashes onto the flowers outside the window to kill them,” His head jerks upwards to look at you instead of your bag as he drawls sarcastically, and the earring in his left ear dangles, shining in the light streaming in from the windows. You heave a sigh with raised eyebrows, ducking your head to continue searching through your bag.

“Here’s a diagram,” You offer up a recent class handout, one that you’re sure he’d used to spit his gum out in, “This isn’t the order the steps are in, though. So we have to reorder them, then draw them all and write about them.”

“There’s only four,” He reasons, “That won’t take too long.”

You neglect to break the news to him that you’re a perfectionist. 

“You start with prophase,” You point to the corresponding picture, “And I’ll do metaphase. Then whoever finishes first can divide the last two.”

He nods once in acknowledgement, “I’ll get colored pencils from Max later. She won’t stab me if I offer her pizza first.”

You can’t blame him for his apprehension towards the redhead. She’s definitely fiery, but you have a sneaking suspicion she’s equally as sweet. You suppose siblings are always at each other’s throats, and Billy and Max are no exception. You get to work sketching out your diagram, and after it's formed, without a ruler to make straight lines, you attempt your own freehand ones. They’re supposed to be arrows, pointing to each part of the drawing to label them, but they come out lopsided and shaky. 

Billy glances up from his sketch when eraser shavings fly over it, peering concernedly at you as you nearly rub a hole through the paper with your eraser.

“Jesus,” He frowns, looking at the array of gray shavings on his comforter, “Are you trying to bury us?”

“Sorry!” You groan, sweeping the shavings away into your palm and dropping them into the trash can that he’s got by his nightstand, “I can’t get these lines straight.”

“Uh,” Billy straightens from where he’d been slouched against the wall, lost in his drawing, “I don’t think I have a ruler..”

“I figured,” You rub your eraser clean of pencil lead, “It’s fine, I can just-”

“Here,” He cuts you off, lunging for a record sleeve that he’s got propped on a milk crate by the foot of his bed, “You can trace it with this.”

You freeze with the sleek, stiff sleeve in your hands.

“Are you sure?” You glance cautiously at him, ghosting your fingers over the edges, “I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Don't, then.” He snorts, “Just trace the edge, you won’t get pencil on it.”

You carefully line the pencil up with the side of the sleeve, peering around his room once before tracing the line you need, “Do you have a record player?”

“Not anymore,” He shakes his head, his curls bouncing, “It got- uh, broken when we moved.”

You hum sympathetically, “That sucks. Maybe you can find a cheap one somewhere, like a yard sale, or something.”

“Yeah, maybe,” He glances up at you with a soft smile, but you don’t catch it, too immersed in your task. He takes the time to admire you curiously, his eyes tracing your features just like you do the arrow.

“There,” You breathe, handing the sleeve back to him once all of your lines have been drawn, “That’s perfect.”

“Mine’s done too,” He decides, tipping his folder so that you can see his final product, “That okay?”

“Looks good,” You nod, scanning the page for any possible mistakes, “That’s... A lot of detail. Wow.”

He chuckles, and you think it’s sheepishly, “Yeah. I draw fast, I guess.”

“I guess,” You parrot, “Okay, next?”

“Actually,” He slides the paper off of his lap, glancing at the clock on his wall, “It’s getting kind of late. If we want pizza delivery, we should call in now, that way it gets here before we get too hungry.”

“Oh!” You stiffen slightly, “Uh, I’m- I’m sorry, I don’t think I have money for pizza.”

“It’s fine,” He waves you off, “I got it. You’re probably the only reason I’m gonna pass this class anyways, I think I owe you more than two slices.”

“Bio’s hard,” You laugh lightly, “I think I’m doing worse in math, though.”

He groans, running a hand down his face, “Fucking math.”

“This unit is so confusing,” You gush, hearing the crunch of tires on gravel from somewhere outside, “I just can’t wrap my head around-”

“Quiet.” Billy demands, eyes wide.

“Uh- what?” You glance nervously at him. You’d started to let your guard down, to forget the rumors about Billy Hargrove, the basketball player with a whole lot of fire inside of him. You’d been comfortable on his bed, chatting about classes and drawing diagrams. But now, when he hears voices outside, he snaps.

“-parked in the damn driveway,” One grumbles, a man’s voice that makes Billy shoot out of his seat when it’s paired with heavy, thumping footsteps across the walkway.

Billy lunges for you, and you don’t have time to scream in shock before his hand, rough and large, slams itself over your mouth.

“Get in the closet,” He hisses, brow dipped in a ferocious frown, “Now!”

There’s no other way to describe how he moves you than manhandling. He grabs you tight by the arm with his free hand, dragging you up and off of the bed as you try fighting him on instinct. When you hear the front door open your brain catches up to you, and you rush to help his progress, not hinder it, so you stand from where you’d been limp in his arms and dart into the closet.

He’s barely able to slide the door shut on you before a series of knocks fall heavy on his door. They’re the type of knocks you’d only ever heard before in cop shows, the FBI banging on people’s doors ready to tackle them to the ground.

You’re petrified in the closet, squeezed between a series of shelves behind your back and the door pressed to your front. Your breathing is erratic, short, sharp intakes of breath warming your face as they hit the door in front of you and bounce right back.

“Yeah?” You hear Billy swing his door open, the hinges squeaking, “Oh, hi, dad.”

“Hi.” The same voice from before sounds, and it sends a shiver down your spine from how icy it is, “There’s a blue camaro parked in my spot. Any idea who’s that is?”

The question is sarcastic, of course, but your nose wrinkles at how unnecessary it is, not to mention condescending.”

“It’s-” Billy tries, but his dad cuts him off.

“It had better not be my son’s, whom I have told repeatedly not to park in the driveway. My driveway.”

“I’m sorry, dad.” Billy keeps his voice low, guilty, and you think it sounds earnest enough. Your breathing is calmer now, not normal but not panicked. Sure, it’ll be awkward listening to Billy get lectured by his dad, but you’d survive.

“The next time this happens,” Billy’s dad’s voice grows eerily venomous, “I will get your old baseball bat from our garage, and I will smash that car to bits, you understand? I don’t give a damn if you bought it, you’re parking it on my property and that means you’ll do it by my rules.”

“Yes, sir.” Billy recites, and your heart sinks at how impersonal their relationship seems. You’d had your concerns from the beginning, because everything about Billy’s home life seemed to indicate that it wasn’t the most conventional, but you pity the boy for his dad’s lack of human decency.

“Move it. And where’s Maxine?”

“She’s in her room,” Billy supplies readily, “She’s doing homework. And I was just about to order us pizza.”

You breathe easier knowing it’s over. That the danger has passed, that you’ll be out of the stuffy closet soon. But only silence ensues, there’s no acknowledgement from Billy’s dad. Not until-

“What?”

“There’s no spaghetti left,” Billy tries reasoning, “We finished it all last night. I just thought that pizza was-”

“Son,” Billy’s dad spits, “It is 6:30. That is well past our family’s dinnertime. And you haven’t fed your sister?”

“I was about to grab the phone, dad! To call the pizza place, and order so that they wouldn’t be later than seven. I know it’s later than we usually eat, I just thought that she’d tell me if she was getting hungry! And she hasn’t,” Billy huffs, “She’s been quiet since we got home from school.”

“You thought she’d tell you? Billy, it’s not her responsibility to run this household when we’re away, it’s yours. I’ve told you that time and time again. And she’s been quiet since you got her home from school? How do you know she’s even in her room? Do you? Have you checked on her?”

“No, dad,” Billy argues, “I haven’t checked on her. I’ve been doing my own homework, and you’re the one that left, so I don’t know why it’s my fault that-!”

You thought things were fine. Sure, it was an argument, but that’s all it was. Until it wasn’t. Until the door in front of you shakes, nearly snaps, as a colossal thud rattles its frame. You’re not sure how you managed to stay quiet, the door warping in its hinges and pressing tight against your front. You slam a hand over your mouth to muffle your newly-frantic breathing, eyes shut tight as tears bead in their corners.

“How dare you,” You hear that voice, the rough, hateful voice of Billy’s dad, only inches away from you. But he’s speaking to you, not away from you, and you come to the terrible realization that he’s slammed Billy into the closet door. You’d managed to keep up hope, imagining his stereo thrown across the room towards your location, but there’s no denying now that it’s Billy’s weight against your front, only a flimsy closet door between you.

“How dare you insinuate that this is my fault? How dare you tell me that I can’t leave my own home, and how dare you shirk your responsibilities to your sister. As if you’re not a grown man,” Billy’s dad spits, “You are more than capable of looking after a 13-year-old girl. You just choose not to, and I don’t know how else to get it through your head, Billy! This is your family, she is your sister, and when we are gone, you are her parent! She needs food, she needs attention, she needs care, she’s not a goldfish. Why don’t you care about her, Billy? Why do you keep acting like you are not a part of this family?”

There’s a moment of silence where Billy tries thinking of something to say. You use it to answer the question for yourself: because he isn’t. This isn’t a family, you realize, your chest still compressed by Billy’s weight, this is a broken home. The three of them, Billy’s dad, his stepmom, and his stepsister, they’re a family, but Billy isn’t. Not with the way they treat him, not with the things they expect of him. It’s no wonder he doesn’t like his family, because they really aren’t that.

It’s too late. Billy takes too long to answer (which you think is unfair with such a loaded question), and your stomach churns as you hear a sharp smack. You’re unfortunately certain that it hasn’t been Billy’s father on the receiving end, but your biology partner himself.

Thankfully, Billy’s dad doesn’t hear your gasp. Or maybe he does, but he thinks it’s Billy’s. Nevertheless, you know Billy hears it, and you hope that he takes some comfort in the fact that you’re still there, that you’re not selling him out and revealing yourself to get yourself out.

“You are her brother.” Billy’s dad breaks the silence, and you try matching your haggard breathing to Billy’s so that he doesn’t hear you, “You are responsible for her. And if you disobey me again, you will be punished. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” Billy mumbles, and you hate how thick his voice sounds in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Billy’s dad drawls, and you have the sudden urge to leap from the closet and punch him in the teeth, “I couldn’t hear you. What did you say?”

“Yes.” Billy repeats, voice strong this time, “Sir.”

“Move your fucking car.” Billy’s dad spits, leaving him with another shove to Billy’s shoulders that pushes you even further back into the shelves. Your back is going to ache tomorrow, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not while Billy stands petrified against his closet door.

The heavy footsteps recede, and there’s two pairs, a much lighter one there now, too. But Billy hasn’t moved, and you come to the sickening realization that Billy’s stepmom had been lingering in the doorway the entire time. Or just outside it. You must not have heard her light footfalls when they were so consumed by her husband’s earth-shaking ones. She had to have known what Billy’s dad was doing to him, why wouldn’t she stop him? Why wouldn’t she say anything?

You don’t have time to prepare for the closet door flying open, and for a split second, you’re afraid it’s Billy’s dad. But it’s not, it’s Billy, and he meets your eye for only a split second. It’s enough for him to notice the withheld tears in your eyes, and for you to notice his own. He gulps, swallowing a lump in his throat, and his eyes drop to the floor. There’s a glaring red mark on his cheek, one that looks like it stings.

“Climb out the window,” He mumbles, gruff and secretive, “Take your bag, it’s under my bed. Wait for me down the road, I’ll drive you home.”

You don’t have it in you to argue with him, not when he looks like he’s about to burst into tears. You creep past the open door carefully, even though the footsteps have receded, both pairs, down the hallway and into a different room. You don’t have a difficult time climbing out the window, and you shoulder your backpack after your feet are firmly on the ground. 

Billy shuts his window behind you, and you’re alone now, in the darkness.

The side of their house is somewhat overgrown, twigs and leaves snapping beneath your shoes as you trek off-property. You follow the path of the street until you’ve passed other houses, and don’t seem to be lingering near theirs. Then the roar of Billy’s car travels your way, and his headlights bathe your stiff form.

He’s gripping the wheel tightly as you open the door, and he doesn’t look at you as you get in. It’s awkward, tense, and you have to sit on your hands to stop yourself from fidgeting with them and setting him off.

The drive is quiet; he’s shut off his radio. He drives fast, and this time you don’t have the heart to stop him. You’re still worried, but you think you’ve figured out why he drives fast, and you’re not sure you blame him for it anymore. He’s controlling what he can, because he can’t control most things.

You’re only five minutes out from his place when you first speak up, clearing your throat experimentally beforehand, “Do you... wanna talk about it?”

You glance over at him subtly, watching his knuckles turn white on the wheel. 

“No.”

“Okay,” You breathe, and bite your tongue to stop from speaking for the rest of the ride.

He pulls into your driveway with a rough turn, and you’re sure he only knows which house is yours because he’d seen you getting the mail two weeks ago while he was cruising through your neighborhood. On a different occasion, you’d commend him for his memory, but it seems inappropriate now.

You unbuckle your seatbelt without prompting, careful not to annoy him. But you can’t stop yourself, before you shut the door you peer down at him. Of course, he doesn’t look at you.

“Billy,” You start, carefully, cautiously, “You don’t have to talk to me about it. Or- or anyone. But if you ever need a place to stay, a safe place for the night… you can come here.”

You think he’s going to yank the door shut himself and speed off. And you wouldn’t blame him, either. But to your surprise, his eyes shift, no longer on the road ahead but on you. He glances at you through the mirror, still too timid to meet your eyes unobscured, but his gaze shatters you. It’s broken itself, and inside of his pretty blue irises is a child screaming for help. Pain pools in his pupils and threatens to drip down his cheeks in tears you wish you could wipe away before they even start flowing. 

“I mean it,” You promise, “Anytime.”

He holds your gaze, lips parting to whisper shakily, “Thank you.”

You leave him with a soft smile, throwing your bag over your shoulder lightly. You shut the door and watch him leave, much slower and more controlled than when he’d peeled in. When he’s completely out of sight you turn with a sigh, trekking up your front steps and fumbling for your keys. It takes you a minute to get in the door because of how distracted you are, and in your frustration you slump against the wood, remembering the feeling of Billy’s closet door nearly choking you.

You’re shaken up, you can’t imagine how Billy feels. And there’s no telling how often his dad does this, after all, it barely took anything to set him off. You hope he’ll be okay for the night, and for his own safety you wish he’d stayed with you. You wish he’d parked his car on your driveway, without fear of anyone smashing it, and settled on your couch for the night. But he didn’t, and when you crawl into your bed that night, you hope he’s safe in his own.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove blurb #billy hargrove drabble #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x reader fanfiction #billy hargrove x fem!reader

[thiccpersonality]

Damian (Gremlin) Wayne and his even more gremlin-esque family pt.4

"Alright boys I'm-" Bruce freezes in the doorway, the pressure that was in his eyes before increasing tenfold-along with his headache-at the chunks of salmon and grains of rice that have been tossed across the room. His eyes surveying how they managed this before realizing Alfred isn't even in the room anymore...so that's why.

Bruce steps forward and narrows his eyes at Jason, the nineteen year olds right hand to be exact, glaring at the fork he picked up and was about to throw at Tim. "Jason Peter Todd, drop the fork! And you, Richard John Grayson, that plate is NOT a throwing disc-" icy blue eyes turn to give the youngest two children THE LOOK™. Tim immediately drops the knife he was about to throw while Damian lowers the salmon that he would absolutely be able to murder someone with down.

"What is all this? I thought this pointless arguing was behind everyone already?"

Bruce looks at each of his children one by one, his brows pinched together as he does so, the four boys looking away shamefully at causing their dad distress. Richard truly does feel sorry, he really does, but that small competitive spirit in him whispers something about taking this chance to gain extra points by being the bigger person.

"You're right, dad. I'm sorry for being childish and fighting with my little brothers this way." Richard holds back his victorious smirk at seeing Bruce smile at him thankfully, the man's shoulders lowering into something more relaxed at the quick apology.

"I forgive you-"

Jason narrows his eyes at the eldest...that little fucker thinks he's smooth with his tricks. Well, Jason-I Can Smell Your Bullshit-Todd is not falling for these childish tricks. Jason knows that him willingly offering to clean will set Bruce's alarms off, but if he gets up to silently initiate it, that will do just fine.

Alfred sips his tea in the kitchen, the man shoving cleaning supplies towards Jason when he comes in, choosing to ignore the confused look his grandchild gives him, of course he knew one of them was eventually going to enter the kitchen for supplies. Jason opens his mouth to question the older man on how he knew but closes it just as quickly and accepts the silent help before backing out of the kitchen.

Bruce looks towards Jason eyeing the cleaning supplies curiously. "Jason...are you preparing that for Alfred?"

Jason feels kind of embarrassed when Bruce actually looks at him, but he can play it off by scoffing and bending down to pick the food up. "No, I'm cleaning it. I was the one who threw most of the food anyway." Ha! Take that Dickhead! Is what Jason is thinking when he makes eye contact with the man, extra points for him at willingly cleaning and admitting his fault with the situation at hand. Bruce's eyes widen and he tries to hold back on praising his second eldest too much...sometimes the boy gives signs that he wants Bruce's attention and then when he gives it to him his child pulls away.

Which is why he keeps it simple with a proud smile at how open Jason is being and a fond look, "Oh? Well thank you so much, Jay. That is very kind of you and mature as well-" Bruce pauses in thought for a moment before saying what he wants to say, though with a bit of hesitancy-"You...have been working on your temperament a lot. I see it has been paying off...and I'm proud of you."

Call Jason Bonnie and Clyde cause he feels like he's been shot. Not in a bad way, but shot with love bullets...which honestly sounds childish and stupid to Jason, but it also means a lot! His heart feels like it's going to burst at the mushy, gooey feeling running through it at those gently and lovingly said words. Jason actually feels like shooting something because he feels so flustered, but this is beyond extra points for him-THIS. IS. EVERYTHING!

The nineteen year old just delights in Richard managing to stumble in place, he soaks up Tim's eye twitch and most definitely basks in the Demon Brat's ® murderous aura. This is a dream come true-what the hell does Timothy think he is doing?

Tim lowers himself to the floor near Jason and puts on cleaning gloves, letting them snap against his wrists while glaring at the older boy. "I-I'm so sorry for being a bother and mess...I'll help Jason clean up! And I'm sorry for trying to throw the knife at him, that wasn't right of me and I-I knew better." Oh...so Tim is playing his 'I'm so insecure, please love me' card...and shit does it tend to work! The little scheming weasel just smirks in victory when Bruce actually walks over and touches his head gently, "Look at me. You aren't ever a bother nor will you ever be one. You are still young and you are all brothers...I don't know what else I expected from leaving you all alone? But you said sorry and it's all good now."

Tim makes puppy eyes at Bruce and looks back at Jason, "I'm also sorry to you too. I shouldn't have been so violent."

Jason freezes at the look in Tim's eyes, the little brat knows exactly what he's doing by apologizing to him willingly on top of admitting his fault. If Jason doesn't answer...he will seem like a jerk and will no doubt disappoint Bruce if he doesn't forgive the other. Which is why Jason just stares at Tim before smirking and saying understandingly, "I forgive you. And I guess the knife throwing is payback for me trying to murder you in my Pit induced rage. We're even now."

The unexpected comment makes Tim smile and giggle, Jason also chuckling at being caught off guard by the younger boy's laugh, the two cough simultaneously at realizing that they are...getting along?

That is gross and Jason will definitely punch at his punching bag later while imagining it's Tim's face.

Damian watches this all unfold with a fiery look in his eyes, he knows his father will probably notice him and talk to him about apologizing or some crap like that...but he can't apologize to those bastard children, he's too proud for that. So, the boy decides to play his "I was literally raised by assassin's so there is most definitely a cultural difference here" card. Damian looks down at the salmon in his hands and smiles, impressed by his own genius while hopping down the chair and walking up to Bruce with a wide-eyed look, salmon held up to Bruce like a cat bringing an offering to its owner.

"Father! I thought this experience was most fun-" Damian tilts his head cutely and makes sure to smile big for his dad, making sure his chubby face is the center of attention-"Do you not usually have such riveting food fights?"

Bruce softens at the cute look but raises his brow at Damian, "No...we usually don't. Did you have food fights?" Bruce can't really imagine Talia or Ra's allowing that, but he also wouldn't be surprised if their food fights consisted of skin melting acid, hidden blades or poison somehow being in the food as a twisted form of training. Damian frowns and lowers his salmon somewhat while frowning sadly, making sure to turn his face down enough that all Bruce can see is his round cheeks puffed out into a pout, "Grandfather and mother would beat me or lock me away if I ever dared to. I want to apologize for making a mess , father, I promise I shall not disappoint you again!"

The boy looks back up at his father with a determined look, making sure his eyes show some sort of nervousness while doing so, delighting in Bruce looking at him lovingly. "Damian, you didn't disappoint me. You didn't even know better really, but now that you do I know you'll never do it again, yeah?" Bruce reaches his hand down to gently brush his thumb against Damian's cheek, finally realizing how dirty his son is, the man chuckles softly and borrows a few paper towels from Jason (who begrudgingly handed some to Bruce) and cleans up Damian's hand and face.

"How about we go get you cleaned up? I know you don't need my help to clean yourself, but I can run your bath for you if you'd like?"

Damian's eyes shine happily at the offer, his small hand slipping into Bruce's as they exit the dining room. "I would like that very much! You can even wash my hair...if you'd like?" Bruce smiles at Damian copying him and squeezes the small hand gently, "I would like that very much."

Jason, Tim and Richard watch flabbergasted at how the little demon managed to win again. Alfred's voice suddenly chimes in humorously from the kitchen, "How many points does he have now?"

The three boys groan loudly while planning the downfall of Damian Wayne.

(Bruce about Tim apologizing for attempting to throw a knife (that was most definitely at Jason): "But you said sorry and it's all good now."

Jason looking at Bruce confused: "He tried to throw a knife at me!!!"

This is a post made for my Birthday today! This was actually written on 2/29/24 at like...11 something in the morning I think and finished at 6:28 PM in the afternoon.

Will the eldest boys actually ever cause Damian's downfall? Will Bruce truly find out about what his gremlin family is doing? Will Alfred continue to egg the kids on? Stay tuned for the next episode of Dragon ball-

I'm just playing. If anyone likes this, I appreciate you loves. Please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

#dc comics #dc universe #dcu #bruce loves his kids #bruce wayne is a good dad #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #richard grayson #jason todd #tim drake #timothy drake #damian wayne #cute #humor #fluff stuff #crack treated seriously #Damian (Gremlin) Wayne #Richard (Gremlin) Grayson #Jason (Gremlin) Todd #Timothy (Gremlin) Drake #Alfred (Sophisticated Gremlin) Pennyworth #good parenting #bruce wayne is a good parent #tired parent bruce wayne

[clearlydiamondz]

Loyalty to Royalty

Erik!Stevens x OC

Part Seven

- - - - - - - - - -  

Princess Imani was the black sheep of her family, never really fitting the female royal type. When an arranged marriage between Prince   N'Jadaka and her is set up, she tries her hardest to get away... but she just can’t.

- - - - - - - - - -  

Being back home, she was missing Erik. He and T'Challa had their own thing going on as she did too. As her being the Silver Leopard, she and Nakia infuriated a sex trafficking's ring down in South Africa that she caught wind on. She was most definitely was feeling the after affects of that mission, especially right after traveling between the states and home.

"So, how did you like America?" Amarah asked her.

"Honestly, I had so much fun. The food there was so good but I know I gained a few pounds." she said as they sat in the dinning room eating the Oxtail stew that Imani made. "Though they had so many cars. Like... it was unbelievable but it made sense. Everything was so far from each other." she said grabbing her napkin and wiping her face.

"Yeah when we went I noticed that too. I just thought because they were lazy." Amarah chuckled.

"I do too until I seen it. Even I wasn't going to walk that far." Imani stated. Amarah sighed before saying,

"Imani I should tell you something." Imani looked at her in a state that told her to go on but Oshana came in, a tad bit shocked that the two was sitting at the table.

"Hello mother." Amarah said with no emotion.

"Daughter." Oshana acknowledged then looked between the two. "What were you guys talking about?" she asked, confused on why the two of them were talking.

"My trip to America." Imani stated drinking her glass of wine. "I am excited on going back."

"Surprising. It seems like the politicians don't really seem to be a fan of you." she stated crossing her arms.

"Conservatives don't. I think everyone else was pleased." she stated looking up at her as she scoffed.

"Maybe because of the Prince. But you didn't really-"

"Mother just stop." Amarah snapped at her. Oshana looked at her daughter in shock. Almost like she was betrayed by the action. "There is no need for you to be so critical right now. Let's just be glad she made it home safe." Imani looked at Amarah in shock before looking at Oshana.

"Hmm... it seems like you guys weren't just in here talking about America. If you were talking about-"

"Ima cut you off there. You do not run through my mind enough for that." Imani responded to her. At this point, Oshana wasn't caring about Imani and what she was saying. She was shocked about the fact that Amarah replied to her in such a way. She heard the kitchen phone ring as she stood up answering it.

"Imani speaking." she answered.

"Princess Imani! It's Council Jean! Your father is not well! He collapsed at the meeting is on his way to the hospital!" he yelled in the phone as her world stopped.

"What happened to him!" she exclaimed, but her ears heard something.

That's when Imani heard something on the roof. With her eye twitching, she moved the phone. "Council Jean, the palace is under attack..." she whispered.

"Princess is everyone okay?" he exclaimed.

"Send help..." she whispered into the phone before hanging up. "Something is wrong with father." she whispered to them. "Stay behind me, understood?" she warned them. The looked at her confused, before she grabbed a few knives off the table.

"Please Imani, what are you going to actually doing that?" her mother whispered yell. Ignoring her, she heard the footsteps come closer before she through the knife at an angle, down the hall.

She heard a man yell before she ran around the corner seeing two men in all black gear with guns. She grabbed one of their guns in attempt to yank it but he held on to it, the gun going off and bullets hitting the ceiling. Kicking him into the stomach and having him fly through the window breaking the glass. She unloaded the gun before sliding it across hall before she was slammed against the wall, her head hitting it. The man had the in attempt to stab her, the man was about 150 more pounds heavier. She used her leg to wrap around his leg moving her body weight to the floor as he flipped with her. The knife slid across the floor as he flipped her off of him, with her getting back onto her feet in a fighting stance. He stood up, shocked by how fast she was up.

"I don't know who you are, but you are making a bad decision." she warned him.

"Says a lot coming from you." He pulled a pistol out in attempt to shoot but with her reflexes, she tacked him by the feet as the gun went off.

"AMARAH!!!" She heard her mother yell, as she heard Amarah fall to the floor.

She grabbed the gun that she slid before hitting him in the head three good times sending him to the floor. Making sure that they weren't getting up, she ran to Amarah and saw that the bullet hit her in the chest.

"No no no no no." she examined her and saw that there was no exit wound. "GIVE ME YOUR SCARF!" she yelled at Oshana forcing her to hand over her scarf.

"I-I need to call for help!" she exclaimed standing up.

"No! There are no telling how many people are here. We need to move somewhere else to be safe!" she whispered yelled in order. "They were able to sneak pass the King guards on the outside.." she reminded her. "Lemme take her into the wine cooler." she whispered. She picked her up bridal style before they snuck her into the wine cooler, hearing more foot steps above.

Grabbing one of the beads that Erik gave her, she called him.

"Hey gorgeous, I miss-"

"Erik, our palace is under attack." she whispered, holding the scarf on Amarah wound.

"By who!?" he yelled as she heard stuff ruffling.

"I think Americans. I heard an American accent." she whispered. That's when she heard more glass breaking. "There are too many of them, I wont be able to take them and Amarah is in bad condition." she took another bead off before placing it in her wound, her gasping sounds slowly went down as the vibranium went through her system.

"Where are the guards that-"

"They attacked from the roof. We have no way of reaching the out side."

"We're on our way now!"

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

In turn of events, no longer

(Y/N) sat in the chair in the hospital room as she starred at the two bodies that were on the tables, covered. She was still covered in blood, too deep into her thoughts. She didn't realize that her friends were outside talking about her.

"You don't tell me that this is a coincidence." Okoye whispered. "This would have been Wakanda if we didn't have the shield to protect us. Now their King is dead."

"We need to cancel out any other possible theories before we jump the gun and say it was the American's." T'Challa stated, Erik scoffed.

"Nigga, it was definitely America. I seen the footage of the fighting style and the guns. It was most definitely either a black op unit or a seal unit." Erik mentioned. "They were caught surprised because of her strength and wasn't able to take her down." Erik reminded him about the herb that ran through her body.

"I hate to say this, but it isn't suppose to be Amarah on that table. It was supposed to be Imani. The true heir to the throne." Nakia said looking at T'Challa.

"What we need to do is protect her, and protect the lands in Kambaho that has the vibranium. I've already talked to Shuri and the border tribe on what we could do to protect their citizens." T'Challa stated. They were about to say something but the door opened and Imani walked out, still in her gray dress with Amarah's blood.

"Imani beloved, let's get you cleaned up." Nakia whispered to her in a soft tone, but Imani stopped her handing her two tubes of blood.

"My father requested not to have an autopsy when he passed in belief that it would interfere with his crossover with the ancestors. These are mine and his blood samples." she handed them to her as Nakia looked at her confused.

"I'm confused, why-"

"I had the hospital clear out the basement labs for you to work. Can you find any abnormalities?" Imani asked.

"I thought that the Americans didn't get to you?" Okoye stated.

"No, I believe Oshana was working with the Americans to assassinate us." she said.

"Imani.. right now you shouldn't focus on this. You need to-" Erik went to touch her but she stepped back before yelling,

"No!" she exclaimed catching everyone off guard. "N-No, the Americans have no way of poisoning us unless they have an inside person to do so. When they attacked the palace, they knew exactly where to go and where we would be. Not only that, they were attacking and only jumping me. She-" She pointed at Amarah's dead body. "That happened by accident. I'm supposed to be on that table" Sighing, she scratched her forehead.

"If my father and I had died, the person to heir the throne would be Oshana and then her daughter. She would get what she wanted and so would the American's. Their assassination of me failed and I need to confirm it before I take further action." she told him. Nakia looked down at the tubes before grabbing them.

"If what she says is to be true, this is an obvious act of war." Okoye responded.

"It doesn't make sense. Why poison you if they were just going to come in and shoot?" Erik asked. "Seems a tad bit over-kill." he finished.

"Yeah... I have a few questions I need to ask Oshana."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

In the bunker that was miles from the castle, held Oshana. She was told for her protection. Erik and she entered the room as Oshana stood up.

"Where is Amorah!?" she exclaimed.

"She is-"

"She is in critical condition." Imani lied, cutting Erik off. Erik looked at her, catching on to what she was doing. "Wakanda health team is doing everything in their power to save her," she replied as she let out a relieved sigh.

"And my husband?" she asked.

"He's doing okay." Imani choked. She saw the disappointment in Oshana's eyes, but easily covered it up.

"Thank goodness," she said sitting down.

"We do have a few questions for you Oshana. There are some gaps in these events that aren't making any sense." Erik replied sitting across from her. She scoffed.

"What is this, an interrogation?"

"No, but we have to clear up every playing field that there could be a chance that the attempted assassination of my father and I," Imani stated as she looked at her.

"You mean the attempted assassination of my daughter and your father." she corrected her but she shook her head.

"See here is the thing. I'm not stupid. When we were attacked, they only attacked me." she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "In which I had to fight them off," she stated.

"Actually, about that. How were you able to do that?" Oshana asked leaning onto the table.

"Training with the Dora Milije proves to be very beneficial," she stated.

"I saw you throw almost a damn near 200-pound man into a window and shatter it. Ain't no amount of training in the world can do that," she told her. She was about to respond to the statement, but Erik handed her the tablet before looking at it.

The results for both her and her father came up. Cyanide was present in both her and her father's toxicology tests. He leaned down whispering in her ear,

"Even though the herb can protect you, we need to get you to a medical bay just to be sure. Cyanide is dangerous even with the herb," he whispered to her. She nodded looking back at him.

He knew that she was asking for a few more minutes with her before he nodded. "Oshana, I do have a question myself." He asked sitting beside her. "We took a toxicology report on both the King and Imani only to find cyanide in his systems. Do you know anything about it?" Erik asked her. One thing about Imani, she could read people like a children's book. It came to her easily.

The nervousness that Oshana attempted to hide ran through straight across Erik, but Imani caught it.

"Impossible if both the King and Princess had that in their systems they would be dead. And they are alive," she said pointing to Imani.

"Yeah about that..." Imani sighed. "My father is dead..." she snapped at her. The glimmer in her eyes was everything that concluded what she wanted.

"No..." she whispered standing up, creating a show. "No!" she exclaimed, thinking that Imani was next. Imani rolled her eyes, peeping at the exaggeration of her performance.

"How would Cynanide be discovered in his system?" she asked as Oshana scoffed.

"The hell if I know," she exclaimed. Imani nodded before standing.

"That's okay," she said picking up the rest of her stuff. "We will be talking to the people that decided to attack the palace," she said, she and Erik walking towards the door.

"Good luck with that. The black op units are trained not to talk Imani!" she yelled after her. Erik was already out the door before she said that, Imani was still inside the room but with the door open.

"How do you know it was the black ops," she yelled out. Realizing what she said the two of them turned around.

"How do you know it was the American Black ops?" Imani asked her. Standing there silent and in shock she exposed what she knew, Imani turned around to look at Erik. She then turned around and looked at Oshana. "Don't wanna answer that's fine. You can blame them for the death of your daughter also." A gasp escaped Oshana's lips as she stood up.

"You fucking winch. You lied about my fucking daughter!" she screamed with tears in her eyes. "You fucking monster with no empathy, you will die and burn for your sins." Within a split second, the door was shut, locked, and barricaded by a bar that even Erik couldn't get into. She walked closer to her as Erik banged on the metal door, attempting to get it open.

"You see him?" she asked pointing towards Erik and the guards attempting to get it open. "They think I'm about to kill you. I'm not going to lie I'm very tempted to do so," she responded as Oshana looked at her shocked.

"I know you killed my father and attempted to kill me you soulless beast," she whispered to her. "I know about the cyanide in my system," she told her.

"You would be dead if that-" she grabbed the end of the table throwing it against the wall. It caught Oshana off guard, and fear struck through her body.

"You killed my father... and your own daughter. You are the only person that's considered a fucking monster." she snapped at her, but Oshana stood up.

"Blasphemy! I did not kill my daughter. I did-"

"You may have not pulled the trigger, but you sure as hell gave them the gun," she whispered to her. Oshana looked at her in shock. "You get no sympathy from me. Sure you might get 15-30 years from killing your daughter, but killing the King. You might as well make peace with death."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _

She sat in the room on the bed as Nakia did tests and gave her treatment to counteract the poison. "Nakia I feel okay, just let me go." she groaned sitting in the bay of the Wakanda Medical Research Center in the middle of the Indian Ocean.

"And that is why I can't let you go," Nakia replied handing her the test results. "You are the one and only person that has experienced cyanide poisoning with the herb. We gotta keep a close eye on you." Nakia finished as Shuri jumped in.

"The herb could be preventing any type of symptoms from showing up in hopes of saving you, but the poison itself could be working through your bloodstream and not showing any symptoms because of the herb," Shuri said looking at her. "All we are doing is protecting the true heir to the throne. If you die, Evil stepmama takes place." she joked as Imani rolled her eyes playfully.

"So far, vitals are good. We want to keep you here for a couple of more days. Keep an eye on you for the next couple of days just to confirm you are okay." Nakia said rubbing her back.

"Days? I need to make a press conference about my father and Amorah.!" she exclaimed.

"I got that in control," Erik replied grabbing her hand. "As the future king, I'll make the statement about what happened. We will tell the people that you are under quarantine and watch because of the potential poisoning." Erik stated as she shook her head.

"That won't work," Okoye said taking the words out of her mouth. "Cyanide is a poison that can kill any human. Considering she is a human with powers, it won't work because then people will know about the herb." Okoye said. "Plus, killing the King and his stepdaughter is an act of war. We can't lie and say it's something else. She takes the throne, they'll just attempt to kill her also." Okoye mentioned.

"Plus, Americans can twist the truth. Say she killed all of them in hopes of establishing the power of the throne. It's not a good look." Nakia mentioned. Imani held her face in her hands, tears rushing down her face.

For the first time in her life, she was stuck and didn't know how to become unstuck.

All of them looked at each other, knowing what they had to do. "My love, I think you need to come clean about who you are.." Erik trailed off before Imani looked at him.

"I can't," she whispered shaking her head.

"Imani, it's the only way that the world will believe you," Erik stated.

"No!" she exclaimed catching everyone off guard. "My people will know that I kept this from them, and so will the people and council of Wakanda. I can't let you risk that, They will deem me ass untrustworthy," she told Erik and looked at T'Challa.

"I can't let either of you risk that," she told them looking between the two of them.

"You must have forgotten but I'm the king. I made that call because I trusted you." T'Challa told her. "At this point, it's time we come clean,"

"I hate to bud in, but you knew this was going to happen eventually. happened. Though the council will be upset, we can present them with the benefits of you having the herb." Okoye stated.

"With that attack on Kambaho, it wouldn't be surprising if they are going to show hostility towards us. Approaching them with this, and having three people rulers with the herb, we have more than protection." Erik comforted her, rubbing her back.

She wiped her tears, her sadness overtaken with anger as she stared at the blank wall. "Once I'm released, I will make my way to the Wakanda and Kambaho council." she replied, Okoye and T"Challa nodded.

"We do have the Americans in holding. Okoye and I will be questioning them while you get some rest for the next couple of days." Erik said playing with her hair. "You guys, give us a minute," Erik said standing up. Everybody exited the bay, leaving the two of them alone.

"A lot is happening," she whispered to him.

"I know," he said sitting on the bed beside her. Though she was precise with everything she did, she couldn't help but get anxious when too much was happening at the same time. It didn't help her situation that she was a sitting duck.

Her father had died, her country was under attack, she herself was poisoned, she was in line to become Queen now and she had to come out about who she was.

"I don't even know what to do." she sighed putting her head in her hands, in complete defeat. Tears rushed down her face as she tried to get a grip on herself but she couldn't help it.

"Mani.. calm down my love.." he tried to comfort her but she snapped at him.

"I can't freaking calm down!" she yelled before she instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry Erik, I didn't mean to be so hostile but this- this is a lot. I have so much on my plate and my father isn't even here too" she stopped herself before making the realization that her father was no longer with her.

"Oh my..." she put her hand on her chest, her breathing beginning to hitch. "A-And my dad is dead." she cried as Erik grabbed her, pulling her into his chest. "My dad is dead!" she screamed into Erik's chest. Erik seeing her like this made a feeling of rage and anger he had never felt before since his father was found dead.

Someone was going to pay for this.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

@life-in-the-slut-house @gloglamsparks @niahsa @hippieonboard @nanii2x @ejs398 @royaler1999 @luvvvjada @sourbabynaee @tthatkidmimi @kanilive @christinabae @nccu-rnc @youcanttouchthis1001 @jordyn-wkndafvr @ts1mp0ne @meeeeep5 @ravynnn-12 @metra873 @determinednot2fall @trippyscotch @thiswasnevermylifefromtony @itsophiebby @princessmel-1995 @blkmystery @xsweetdellzx @ziirowe @cozyashhh @luvvvjada @reneinii @ts1mp0ne @kaireads2020 @blmcd57110 @ziayamikaelson @babbtdollaaassignn @forevermoremagcon @ajenae @etherealluvrr @lynaye1993 @mscarter213 @automaticdragonmugalien @bethy-baby @softleosworld @meekmillsfrenchfries @hinatasfleshlight @kokokonakon @sociallyawkward18 @raysunshine78 @justgetitoverwith0 @lishabaybeee-blog @rbhp @ladymac @musicisme333

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#erik stevens #erik kilmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger #killmonger x reader #wakanda #wakanda forever

[kindredcandy]

Writing tips for fanfic writers: a post by someone who had to figure it out themselves and now writes professionally :)

Disclaimer: fanfiction writing is probably one of the most unpoliced forms of self expression and that's what makes it so incredible. It's not my intention to say "hey you're doing it wrong! this is how it should be!" This is merely me sharing writing advice for those interested in improving their writing craft. Imo, a technically "improperly written" fanfic that someone decided to share, is worth far more to me than the finest writing that wasn't shared. My point being, that if you're posting your writing, you're already incredible. I still enjoy fanfics that don't follow these rules, but they are benchmarks that will help improve your writing and refine it. Note that some of these tips are specific to practically writing fanfic and not necessarily for writing with the goal of being published, though a lot of tips will apply for that too.

Become aware of your writing. Read it out loud or put it through a text to speech if you're that dedicated to improving, but the main point is to be able to pick up on your habits and notice when you repeat certain traits or sentence structures multiple times in a row.

Avoid repetition. Repeating words, multiple sentences of a similar length or cadence, too many sentences with the same grammatical marks (; : ,? ! —) you get the gist. These marks are incredible for adding new rhythm and excitement to a story but just be careful to not repeat them too much. This goes for everything. Don't start every sentence the same way (for example: "walking to the door I sighed and coughed. opening the door I saw that it was night") as long as you keep your sentences fresh and don't repeat shit, your writing is good.

Fanfiction Prose.

I'm gonna sum up everything you need to know about prose in a quick bullet point 101. So first, everyone says avoid adverbs and all that; spectacular advice for writing published works that will go through critiquing, however fanfic is often write-and-post-as-fast-as-you-can and coming up with sentences that don't contain adverbs will slow you down a lot. Honestly don't worry about it too much. As long as you're not using an adverb in every single sentence, you're fine. It does refine your work to work around them and will often train you to word things better, but if it's messing up your flow to avoid adverbs then just use them. You can always come back to that later and edit them out if you really want to polish your work.

-ing words are a little bit of a bitch. Fanfic readers are not often carefully reading and picking apart every aspect of a fanfic (unless its hella well written and they're analyzing it out of obsession) but using verbs that end in -ing admittedly does bog down your writing WHEN USED IN EXCESS. I can't stress enough that literally every perceived flaw in writing is fine in moderation. If you can find a way to make that verb into one ending in -ed instead, you're golden. it makes your prose so much better, but no sweat if you still love your -ing verbs.

Be aware of word connotations. Certain words paint certain pictures, so you might not want to refer to bread dough as creamy and squelching. Oh god, or really anything for that matter. But yeah, the next time you're tempted to call someones ass a "cavernous hole" just pause and think about the image that those specific words create.

Babe. Vary your sentence lengths. I promise it makes stuff better to not have 8 long ass paragraph sentences in a row. Or 25 short two word sentences. Mix it up.

On another note, ITS OKAY TO CALL SHIT WHAT IT IS. Don't fall into the trap of purple prose. Honestly with fanfic, readers are more interested in the general idea of the thought, rather than reading you use a ton of complicated words to say something simple. Sometimes it's just "he walked across the bridge" instead of "he moved one bare appendage in front of the other, carrying his form step by step across and through the wooded plank structure." And also... If it's a dick, call it a dick. If it's an eye, call it an eye. None of this "meat sword" and "orb" nonsense.

Quotation marks and paragraphs. This is really simple and you may have figured it out already but I'll explain it bc nobody explained it to me when I started. When someone speaks and you use quotation marks, that goes on a separate paragraph. Please use paragraph spaces!! It makes things rlly hard to read when they're unspaced. Spaces occur with each line of dialogue like I said, or they occur whenever the topic or scene changes. The topic might not change drastically but pay attention and you'll catch when something isn't quite in the same vein as the rest of your paragraph, that means it's time for a space!!

Describing your settings often goes a long way. Like don't get too into it because the reader is there for the smut/angst/fluff/whatever else, And not because they want to hear me describe the carpeting in the bedroom, but it really helps paint a picture in their mind when they know what's going on. Toss a lover onto a plush cream colored comforter. Breathe the air of the cedar trees surrounding their picnic.

Along that vein, detail is GOD. Little details make so much more of a difference than you realize. That quote about "You don't write about the horrors of war. You write about a kid's burnt socks lying in the road." I think is referring to plot, but it's so good for general writing advice. If you focus on the details, you can just simply state the rest without any fancy words and the picture will fall into place beautifully. Details make shit real. Readers don't know it, but they're curious what color characters toothbrush is, what their countertop looks like, how their hair smells, what their lovers skin feels like. Find ways to incorporate this organically. I swear this is probably my best tip. Also because details will set a scene, mood, or foreshadow. Too many specific details about an environment can make a scene creepy (in a good way). Too few details about an environment might happen in an action scene when things are happening quickly.

Write. What. You. Want. I dont give a shit if one bed fanfics are popular rn (I do love me a one bed ff mwah) if that's not what you're passionate about, if that's not what you love writing, you don't have to write it. Write what you enjoy. Write the stories that play themselves out in your head idc how crazy they sound PEOPLE WANT TO HEAR IT TOO. you love gory freaky shit? Girl you're not the only one, but you might be the only one brave enough to create content for that so go do that shit PROVIDE FOR YOUR PEOPLE.

Tag ur shit with proper warnings. Honestly, as long as it's not glorifying p3do, incest or racism etc, I think there's a place for writing about all topics, no matter how taboo or whatever else. But please for the love of God, place warnings at the beginning of your work. If there are spoiler specific warnings you need to give, say that in the beginning and then provide the warnings at the end. Don't not tag stuff just because it doesn't trigger you or it seems silly to be triggered by something like that. It's not silly. I literally just read a wonderful ff tonight that contained a triggering topic that would've sent me into a full blown panic attack if it were not for the warning. I saw the warning and was able to prepare myself and when the topic arose, it didn't catch me off guard. I was mentally able to process the writing because the writer disclosed the triggering topics beforehand. On another night maybe it would've been too much and I would've known from the warning that I wasn't in a place to read that fic. Providing warnings save both the reader and the writer a lot of stress, grief and frustration. You'll avoid getting unnecessary negative feedback from writing that triggered someone, and instead receive positivity from someone who was able to read your fic with a proper heads up. And the reader will have an all-around more pleasant reading experience. So when it comes to trigger warnings, the more specific the better.

Be mindful of how often you use names/pet names. Not like it's gonna kill somebody if you use a pet name too many times in a row, but as readers it's often easy to pick up patterns and that can take them out of a scene if they notice that character X ended every sentence with "darling" or something like that. With that being said, I fking love pet names AND regular names so keep using them, just be careful to not use them consistently in every sentence or it might sound funny.

It doesn't matter how many times a similar fic has been written, we need your take on it. There's a reason that, for example, nightmare oneshots are so common and it's because THEYRE THE GOOD SHIT. if something has been written a million times or even just a few times, and you feel inclined to write it but don't want to be unoriginal or repetitive DO IT ANYWAY. I promise your version is needed in this world. I can't stress that enough.

My last and most important tip, is to write and share it with the world. There is a place for you in this hellhole called the internet and your content could be the very thing that carries someone through a hard time. You could literally save someone's life just because your writing provided a needed distraction or a respite from their life. You know what I do when I have a hard day and everything feels like shit and i need a break to heal? 9 times out of 10 I read fanfic. There are so many people who find solace and comfort in these little moments and worlds we create as fanfic writers and often times, unless a reader is brave enough to come forward and say so, we have no idea the impact we have on someone's life. It was literally a fanfic that inspired me to become a professional writer and that fanfic writer will never know that because they deleted everything. I swear, fanfiction is not the stupid, meaningless screaming into the void that your brain tries to tell you it is. People hear you, people see your hard work, and people adore it. Regardless of how many likes or reblogs you get, regardless of your following. Someone's giggling and blushing reading ur shit I promise. It's hard to wrap your head around but it's true.

And that's it! If this helped anyone let me know, I can do a part two if u want. Also !! If you use this advice the next time you write or if it inspired you to write I'm BEGGING you to tag me in it.

#fanfiction tropes #fanfiction writer #fanfiction tips #writer tips #writing advice #fanfiction writing advice #fanfic writer #fanfic writing #fanfiction #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses fanfic #writeblr #writer help #fanfiction help #fanfiction writing tips

[christinesficrecs]

Glad youre okay now and i am hoping youre doing well!

Are there any sterek fanfic with stiles being total badass human and in the pack with derek as the alpha? Thanks hope you have a good day 💛

Thank you!!! 🥰

Let’s be honest, I live and breathe magic!stiles so you might be asking too much! But hopefully one of these works for you! 💙

with bloody feet across the hallowed ground by owlpostagain | 29.9K

There were no last words. No more pleas, no more screaming. Just the sound of Stiles squeezing the trigger, the explosion of a second shot rocketing out of the revolver, and the hunters bursting through the open doorway just in time to see the bullet slam squarely into the center of Derek’s chest.

He's Not Mine by Sunnee | 68.5K | Explicit

Derek comes home to find an abandoned werebaby on his front porch and Stiles volunteers to help him out. Surprisingly, that is just the beginning of his problems.

The Fangs of War by AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle | 43.5K | Explicit

Derek's family had survived the war. Well, most of them. His father fell to the fires of the battlefield, and Derek had inherited the mantle of Alpha against his will. Which of course, put him ahead of Laura for the throne. Among other things, Peter had to go and do something stupid, and piss off their neighbors to the south. A country ruled by a man known as the Demon King. Great. Things couldn't have possibly gotten any worse.

a lion among them by unpossible | 61.9K | Mature

He knew he’d handled it badly.

Not like he knew any other way to handle this kind of thing, Derek thought, only a little bitter.

But Derek had heard the word Emissary come out of Scott’s mouth, and had immediately vetoed it with extreme prejudice.

It was like he wanted Scott to set his jaw and ignore Derek’s input. Honestly.

But Stiles- Derek had thought that at the very least, Stiles would listen. That their relationship meant enough that Stiles would hear him out before deciding.

Derek had thought wrong.

Hide Of A Life War by Etharei | 26.1K | Explicit

“We have received confirmation that there is a hostage situation in progress at a warehouse compound two hours out of Los Angeles, following a multiple-vehicle pileup on Highway 101 this morning...”

The one in which Stiles has lived to (legal) adulthood and, along the way, become a bit of a badass himself.

It’s Not Pretend When It’s Real by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) | 32.7K

“At least we got this far,” Stiles argued. “Could’ve been worse. For now, they know he’s taken by someone in the pack.”

“Mm hm,” Lydia said, giving him a look. “You realize that you are now going to have to pretend to date Derek, right?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh no, what a hardship. That sucks, boo hoo.” He motioned Derek emphatically. “He’s like, my best friend.”

“Hey!” Scott insisted.

“He’s like, my second best friend,” Stiles amended. “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out. Right?” He turned to grin at Derek, who was scowling at him.

Stella and the Wolf by DiscontentedWinter | 52.2K

Stiles Stilinski is trying to juggle homework, high school, stupid dumb crushes on unattainable people, and werewolves. Keeping the supernatural secret from his dad is hard enough, but when it comes to Stella, his eight-year-old sister, it turns out it’s impossible.

warm shadows by stilinskisparkles | 22K

“Fine,” Stiles spits back, “We’ll die together, it’ll be dandy.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Derek snaps, “I’ll get some peace and quiet for once.”

Stiles grins suddenly, blindingly. There’s blood on his teeth, and his eyes are dark and desperate as he looks up at Derek, but he’s never looked more stupidly, infuriatingly beautiful.

Important Things by suzvoy | 71.4K | Mature

Stiles learns that even with werewolves, giant lizards and psychopathic hunters on the loose, life can still find other ways to screw with you. Case in point: everyone keeps assuming he and Derek are a couple. What the hell?

Stiles plans are the worst (the best) by Dashar | 88.7K

Stiles world ended when his pack died. It didn’t exactly come as a surprise. He had been running with wolves for so long that within hunters and monsters it was just a matter of time. It was a surprise when the world ended too. And Stiles… Well, he had to do something about that.

How to be a Badass Without Trying By Stiles Stilinski by Anxiety_Baker02 | 40K | Mature

Five times Stiles was underestimated and one time he proved why he shouldn’t be.

#asks #sterek #sterek fics #ficrecs #bamf!stiles #alpha!derek

[amorgansgal]

Best Kept Secret - Part One

Dipping my toes into the the world of The Last of Us. I've been a secret fan for a long time, but honestly I've got to thank @misspearly1 for being the inspiration and motivation behind writing and posting this!

Summary: After a long, treacherous journey you make it to Jackson and are all too keen to forget about the life you lead previously, but you meet someone you never thought to see again and they aren't too pleased to see you.

Warnings: Mild depiction of injury and pain

The snow was thick and heavy around your boots, the cold seeping through the tough leather and worn soles. You had wrapped material around your feet and stuffed paper into the holes, but your socks were drenched, your feet were freezing and still you kept running. You had to, even with cordyceps preferring a warmer, humid climate, you had stumbled across a small group of infected and had used up the last of your bullets on three. There were still two of them, hot on your heels, their eager calls and screams echoing horribly. You were only a few miles from Jackson, the glimmering lights in the distance holding so much promise and hope, just a few more miles of your lungs burning, your desperate gasps for air, the muscles in your legs cramping horribly but you kept going. You prayed they wouldn’t confuse you for the infected and shoot you on sight.

A large, barricaded entryway came into view and you doubled your efforts to reach it. The blizzard made your eyes sting and you were sweating copiously, even in the freezing cold weather. You were almost blinded as a floodlight was turned on and shone directly on you, but even though it made you reel you kept running towards the gate. You waved your arms over your head, desperate to show you were just a regular human, you weren’t infected.

You tugged down your scarf, so they would hear you better. ‘I’m not infected! Please let me in!’ you shouted, though the wind whipped away your words. You crashed into the still closed door and risked a glance over your shoulder. The runners were getting closer.

‘Please!’ you shouted, you could just make out the outline of a man standing above the gateway. He was holding a gun and looking down on you, but you couldn’t make out any of his features. It was too dark.

‘Open the gate!’ he yelled. His voice sounded familiar, a rough southern drawl. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was… but surely not, how could be here? But you couldn’t think about it any further as the gate opened. Your heart flooded with relief and you only waited until there was a wide enough gap between the gate and fence, before you wriggled your way through.

A loud crack of gunfire tore through the air and you heard the muffled shriek and then heavy thumps of two bodies landing in the snow. The gate closed behind you. You closed your eyes, finally allowing yourself to catch your breath and calm yourself.

‘ARE YOU INFECTED?’ someone yelled. ‘HAVE YOU BEEN BITTEN?’

You opened your eyes, only to find a small group of people surrounding you, most pointing a gun directly at you, one with a bright torch. You blinked as they shone the light into your eyes.

‘No, I’m not infected! I’m not bitten! They didn’t touch me.’

‘Alright, alright,’ a woman’s voice clear, calm voice came through the crowd’s hubbub. She made her way towards you, her dark brown hair, which was streaked with grey, was neatly tied back, her bright sharp eyes gazed at you keenly and you were rather envious of the large, thick black coat she was wearing. ‘Let’s get this new arrival to the medical centre. Come on,’ she gestured for you to follow.

As you took a step forward, an agonising pain shot up your leg and you fell forward. You struggled, trying to get up, but it felt like your legs no longer worked. The fear and adrenaline that had kept you going for so long was wearing off and now you could feel every sore, aching muscle, every blister on your feet.

The woman was back at your side. ‘Easy, come on,’ she said gently and tried to help you to your feet, but it was no good, your legs trembled like a new born deer and you couldn’t find any strength. She sighed, but gestured to one of the men.

‘Joel, could you lend a hand?’

Behind the scarf, your eyes widened and you tried not to give away your sense of surprise that he was here. Of course he was, dammit! You dragged your coat around you closer, trying to keep your features obscured. If he recognised you… you wouldn’t put it past him to kill you. The sickening sense of shame crept up your throat and made you lower your gaze, as Joel stepped forward and easily scooped you up as though you weighed nothing. You let go of a tight, uneasy breath that you had been holding.

‘Y’okay?’ he asked.

You swallowed nervously. ‘I’m fine,’ you mumbled into the scarf, hoping he wouldn’t recognise your voice. But he didn’t question you further and simply stomped over to the medical centre. The woman pulled open the door and you blinked at the bright, harsh light that lit up the room. It was a clean, simple place smelling sharply of bleach, a bed in the centre, a wash stand and green bar of soap in one corner and a small stove against the furthest wall. Joel placed you onto the bed.

‘Here, let me help with that,’ the woman leaned over and began to unwind your scarf. You avoided the temptation to push her off and try to keep yourself hidden away. You nervously glanced at Joel, who was leaning against one of the walls, his eyes were narrowed as though he just might recognise you but was trying to place you.

‘I… I don’t want…’ you whispered.

‘Course,’ the woman said understandingly. ‘Joel why don’t you get a fire going in here, it is rather cold?’ The woman pulled a hospital curtain around the bed and gave you a smile. ‘I’ll get you some new clothes, reckon these could do with a wash. Oh and my name’s Sandra, sorry, should’ve said sooner. What’s your name?’

You hesitated as you unwrapped your scarf and pulled off your thin coat. There was no way you could escape this. Even if you gave a false name, Joel would eventually see your face and recognise your voice. You gave your first name and heard Joel drop a log he had been placing onto the fire. Sandra gave you a smile, though it seemed even she sensed the uneasiness of the room.

‘Lovely, well, could you take your boots off and your pants, and I’ll examine your legs,’ she said blithely, evidently ignoring how Joel had stopped his work. You dutifully began to remove your pants and then heard the heavy footfall as Joel stomped out of the room, the door thudding close behind him. ‘Shit,’ you thought.

#joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x f/reader #joel miller x f reader #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us part 2 #the last of us joel #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n

[haircoveredwriter]

Episode 1x04 thoughts

This episode wasn't one of my favorites, not horrible, a decent episode in itself but it felt as though it fell prey to a few of the issues similar ones in s11 of TWD did. I'll get in to those later but first we'll put the usual page break for those who don't want any spoilers.

First the aspects I did enjoy:

After taking a swim in walker-infested waters post his ceiling crash like a drunk Mary Poppins (you're welcome for the reference lol), Daryl strolls through Paris trying to get his bearings and comes to see an older couple inside a house, having tea (perhaps). The woman caresses the side of the man's face across the table which causes Daryl to pause, appearing to be lost in reflection before looking down briefly lost in a memory, only moving on once the nearness of walkers is apparent. Now who is the only person/woman who Daryl has ever stroked the face of/had his face stroked by?? I'll give you 3 guesses but anyone with a brain doesn't need that many and in case you've been living under a rock, please refer to my previous precious gifs post.

Later we get to see Daryl-of-old while he's beating a prisoner he and Isabelle took in hopes of finding Laurent. Having him go back to his early TWD season story-telling ways was lovely while also mixing it with the depraved Dixon he learnt to be from his upbringing meshed very well. (Basically Daryl wanted to create his own R-rated version of "Babe"). He must have read some anatomy books over the years to know where to cause the most damage without hitting vital organs.

Fallou's group using Molotov cocktails during their assault on Quinn's place is something I've been waiting for someone to do in the ZA! Like, seriously! Who wouldn't be using mini firebombs at this point when supplies are low and it keeps you at a distance from your opponent? It's just good sense imo.

Norman and the show itself did a very good job again pointing out that there is nothing going on shippy-wise between Daryl and Isabelle. (I know many a worried about it but there was nothing there from my standpoint) Daryl looked honestly uncomfortable when Isabelle hugged him, returning it lightly after a beat or two but happy to break away to continue looking at anything else afterwards. We also got Isabelle's own words that she has no romantic feelings for Daryl but simply concern for his wellbeing. When you watch the scene, they have Sylvie asking (a young girl who only now has her first ever crush but knows nothing of love) who is not equipped enough in life to be able to discern anything different.

Daryl's expression looking at the mini Statue of Liberty made me smile as well. Knowing he's getting closer to getting home, no matter what other tasks people throw at him, and getting back to his person would make anyone happy.

Overall the episode sets up the plot for the remaining 2 installments, getting us where we need to be for certain other aspects to take place. (Gonna let that be for the moment until the next ones drop 😉)

What I didn't like:

The pacing seemed quite slow and the story arc pretty much went in a circle, finally reaching an end point which we realistically could have gotten in 10 mins of another ep. Several points of the episode felt contrived just to fill up space before they could move on to a main bullet point in the story. (This was my main issue with a fair number of s11 TWD eps).

Isabelle's lack of any fighting skill is really getting on my nerves. How has she survived this long? The answer is probably by making things up and having others protect her/do her dirty work and other not so nice things so I'll relent. I haven't seen worse stabby abilities since early on in TWD ... again, yes I am not gonna say anything if I can't say anything nice.

Why'd they do pigeon man like that?!😒

Genet is equally as concerned about finding a man who blew a hole in her years-long-prepped boat as she is a kid who gives people hope? Mmmkay.

Regardless of it all I am excited for next week. It's gonna be great. Trust me.

#twd #twd: daryl dixon #daryl dixion #twd spoilers #caryl #caryl is coming #carol loves daryl #daryl loves carol

[bfpnola]

hi!!! so recently I’ve gained a big interest in building up my collection of patches to put onto my clothes and stuff in my journey to becoming more queerly punk in my presentation. my biggest goal is to make other more marginalized people in my community feel safe around me. so I’m looking into a lot of patches for BLM, stop asian hate, punch nazis, disability advocacy, etc.

I came across a bunch of patches symbolizing the BPP, and I’d really like to get one, but I do worry that that would be inappropriate in a way as a white person. I am autistic and struggle a lot to understand what is and isn’t appropriate to do/say in attempts at support and allyship, so I figured I’d ask.

my reasoning is that even though I’m not Black, the BPP is my biggest inspiration as a young activist looking to dedicate my life to racial and other forms of Justice. Their work, their platform, their impact, truly transformed my political conscience, but I know that I do not want to make the Black Power movement and the BPP centered around me, but at the same time I want to express how much they mean to me and how much they have influenced my ideas for activism if that makes sense.

it may seem like I am making a big deal over one patch or piece of clothing, this stuff is just so foundational to who I am and what I believe so I tend to be a bit seemingly dramatic about it.

anyways, I’m not here to ask you definitively yes or no if it would be appropriate of me to wear a BPP patch, I don’t want to tokenize your existence or work. But you know so much about the BPP and the history of the Black Power Movement that I really trust anything you have to say on the matter of the line between showing allyship, and centering history that’s not about me, around me. so if you’re up for answering, I’d love your personal perspective on white people using BPP symbolism to show allyship and if there’s any historical examples of why that would be good OR bad.

anyways sorry for the long ask and either way, thank you for everything you do and I hope you have a wonderful day!!

hi lovely! life has been exponentially rough for me lately so in advance, i do not have the emotional capacity to respond to this in the degree in which i'd prefer BUT i feel terrible letting it sit in our inbox forever. here's my most basic perspective for now, in bullet points to help organize my thoughts:

first off, i absolutely adore that you're collecting revolutionary patches! a friend i've made over at Queer Youth Assemble (QYA) has a similar jacket and it's always so colorful, i love it!

thank you for reaching out! i think it shows you have a lot of respect for the Black community and everything that the BPP stood for, which i greatly appreciate.

because i'm aware you hold a deep respect for the BPP, i honestly think it's fine that you have a BPP patch, so long as you understand that history. the BPP were pretty accepting of folks of all races, as shown through their acceptance of non-Black members/partners and serving non-Black communities. a few chapters still exist today around the country (i got to meet a few from the Louisiana chapter, some moved over from California) and they openly teach anyone that's willing to listen! it's just that their focus is on how Black people specifically are affected by systemic oppression and how we can liberate ourselves from such.

[ID: A black and white photo of two children around the age of 9 or so, one white, one Black, eating at the Black Panther Party's free breakfast program. They have white paper plates with crumbs and leftovers on them, cartons of what looks like juice, and plastic utensils. The white child is wearing a Black Panther Party beret with 3 Black Panther Party pins on it as well as a thick coat. The Black child looks down at his plate, his coat zipped up all the way. The caption below the image reads, "Two boys in 1969 at a free breakfast for children program in New York City sponsored by the Black Panther Party. Bev Grant/Getty Images." / End ID]

i think, though, that this is best exemplified through the Rainbow Coalition (now co-opted unfortunately), the alliance Fred Hampton created alongside the Young Patriots Organization and the Young Lords. over time, other radical grassroots orgs began to join like the Brown Berets and the American Indian Movement! the BPP truly respected each of their orgs in their support of their respective communities and it's truly unfortunate that the coalition didn't get to fully take off.

i would refrain from wearing any full regalia though, as this would definitely come off as appropriation. respect and admiration are not the same as a full understanding of the struggle! BPP was about far more than just putting on a specific outfit or throwing up a couple symbols. it was a lifelong commitment, even after you technically left. there was real, heavy trauma associated with one's membership, especially those higher up in leadership. i remember reading elaine brown's autobiography, how she felt herself becoming more violent, having folks beat to a bloody pulp right in front of her eyes. folks frequently had to live in fear that they or their partners would be killed as well. that changes a person, and so do the years spent in jail by so many of the party's members. there was ongoing abuse, misogyny, power struggles and more. it definitely wasn't all sunshine and rainbows.

be aware that my opinion is only my own, so others may not agree!

in summary, go for the patch, just be mindful!

some resources related to what i mentioned:

How three unlikely groups worked together to achieve interracial solidarity (podcast)

This article on Richard Aoki

After the list was finalized, Newton and Seale asked Aoki to join the newly formed Black Panthers. Aoki accepted after Newton explained that being African-American wasn’t a prerequisite to joining the group. He recalled Newton saying:

“The struggle for freedom, justice and equality transcends racial and ethnic barriers. As far as I’m concerned, you black.”

Seize the Time: The Story of The Black Panther Party and Huey P. Newton by Bobby Seale (novel)

A Taste of Power: A Black Woman's Story by Elaine Brown (novel)

Assata: An Autobiography by Assata Shakur (novel)

again, i apologize that i couldn't answer this with the depth i'd like to, but hopefully this helped!

-- reaux (she/they)

#reaux answers #black panther party #black lives matter #bipoc #history #resources

[tempertyzias]

genuinely what is trigun

my biggest current hyperfixation, its like two and half mangas/two animes/a movie

it started as just the manga "Trigun", then was adapted into the 1998 anime, then the manga CONTINUED in the form of "Trigun Maximum" which has 14 volumes plus a little addon anthology book called "Multiple Bullets" (but I don't know much about it specifically). im on volume 11 and it is KILLING ME [positive]!! there was a movie, Badlands Rumble, in 2010, most people have kinda mixed feelings about it cause the characterization is questionable but I still like it. the latest rendition of it is Trigun Stampede, made by the same studio that made Beastars. you might also hear about "trigun omnibus"-- thats just a reprint of the manga condensed into 7 books instead of 14. Trigun Stampede was the first one I watched and its my personal favorite but I love all versions of it truly madly deeply. it's my absolute favorite kind of story: the kind that slow boils you like a frog, gradually getting more and more difficult to explain as it goes on, but that also makes it more and more difficult to get more people into it

the main character, Vash The Stampede, is a wanted gunman with a varying amount of money on his head depending on the rendition / point in time but usually 60 billion double dollars, except hes actually a pacifist who avoids violence if he can and refuses to kill. his designs vary between renditions (I think he wears like 7 different coats in the manga?) but generally, blonde spiky hair, orange glasses, prosthetic arm, red coat. trigun stampede is the most different design from the previous renditions, a lot simpler mostly (except for his arm, bane of many fanartists though I honestly really like drawing it) but basically hes my biggest blorbo I both love him and want to be him. people call him a twink but hes not hes built like a brick shithouse under the coat

hes usually accompanied by Wolfwood, religious trauma personified whos hard to describe because his personality varies the most between renditions-- though his design is pretty consistent across the board, wears a suit and carries a big wrapped-up cross thats actually a gun called "The Punisher". he's usually a priest, but in Stampede he's an undertaker. also before I knew what Trigun was when I saw people at a convention cosplaying him I thought he was a supernatural character

and Meryl and Milly (though Milly isn't in Trigun Stampede yet), who in most renditions are insurance agents assigned to follow Vash but then get attached to him like the sad pathetic wet cat he is

then theres Vash's fuckass twin brother who I hate, Millions Knives, edgelord supreme that, depending on the version, I either couldnt care less about or just flat out dislike. I'd probably see his appeal more if I didn't have sibling trauma but a lot of people are capital f Freaks about him and Vash's relationship the fandom has an incest ship problem worse than Homestuck its fucking dire out here and thats one of the contributing reasons I do not like him. its kindof hard to explain his motivations without spoiling pretty much the whole plot but hes the main antagonist of the story and basically just. a grown ass man consistently and obsessively trying to get his brother to side with him even though he wants to Kill and Vash does Not

theres a bunch more characters but ive already been typing for an hour about this and if I dont quit while im ahead ill be here all night and forget to eat. I will frantically half-explain Trigun to anyone who will listen because im DESPERATE to get more people into it without spoiling too much right out the gate (though usually I get way too ahead of myself and end up spoiling it anyway). my trigun hyperfixation probably borders on unhealthy but fuck it we ball

#ive been asked about my hyperfixation. TRIGUN BLAST #temper talks

[thetypedwriter]

Throne of Glass Book Review

Throne of Glass Book Review by Sarah J. Maas 

I feel like I’m throwing myself to the wolves with this one. 

I’ve avoided reading anything by Sarah J. Maas for years. There wasn’t a particular reason. 

Have you ever just avoided something because it’s so huge and popular and everyone tells you to read it? It’s not even that I don’t like hopping on the hype train because I do. 

I love BTS, Harry Styles, Cassandra Clare, Maggie Stiefvater, etc. I’m not against popular things. 

Usually, things are popular because they’re well done. Sometimes this isn't the case, but most popular things are popular for a reason. 

That being said, I can’t even tell you why I avoided Sarah J. Maas. It wasn’t that I knew what her books were about and didn’t find the premise interesting. I had no idea what stories Maas was telling. None. 

So in the summer of 2022 I finally decided to bite the bullet and crack open Throne of Glass. From my understanding, people prefer A Court of Thorns and Roses series more than the Throne of Glass series, but correct me if I’m wrong. 

My thought process was that if I was going to unravel the Maas universe I needed to start from the beginning (I also thought the series were related and A Court of Thorns and Roses was a spin-off series Cassandra-Clare-style, but I don’t think they are—once again, please correct me if I’m wrong).

So I sat down with some Trader Joe’s iced Mango Black Tea and started reading. And found that…it’s a very typical fantasy novel. It’s not bad per se, but I also don’t understand why it’s as huge and popular as it is. 

To me, it’s akin to every other generic fantasy novel out there. Nothing about it really seemed to pop or make it different. Now, perhaps I’m biased (a very real possibility). Perhaps you could make the argument that this was Maas’ first novel and it drastically improves from there. 

That could very well be the case. 

However, I finished the book yesterday and feel no need to go out and purchase the sequel, Crown of Midnight. 

First, I thought Throne of Glass was very much a book of its time. Published in 2012 but put on fictionpress.com before that, there were myriad things that pointed to its age: the characters having super unique names, everyone being the hottest stuff around, the love triangle dynamic, the badass female protagonist with zero flaws other than her righteous anger, court life, the long descriptions about fashion, and the Hunger Games-style competition. 

Now, nothing is inherently wrong with any of these things. Honestly, if I read Throne of Glass back in 2012 when it was originally published I probably would have enjoyed it. But, I’m reading it in 2022 and most of the tropes I listed above I found really annoying and aged. 

Celaena came across as mary-sue-like to me because nothing was wrong with her. Sure, she gets angry from time to time, but it was justified anger based on the fact that she had dead parents, was a slave in a salt mine for a year, and is an oppressed citizen under a tyrannical monarchy. 

If anything, everyone around her, especially the two love interests, Dorian, the crown prince, and Chaol, the Royal Guard Captain, found her fury charming. 

Celaena is literally the best assassin in the world, is otherworldly beautiful, is intelligent, kind, witty, confident, and every other positive trait you can think of. 

Despite her being an assassin and literally having murdered multiple people, she’s described as pure of heart and kind by other characters, including the prince and an old Queen who’s ghost comes back from the dead just to speak with her. How does this make sense? It’s a mystery. 

Not to mention, Celaena dislikes and distrusts other women on principle, spends paragraphs discussing what kind of dress she’s wearing (nothing wrong with this, but I personally didn’t care and skipped over it), and goes through the whole I-couldn’t-possibly-love-the-prince-his-regime-has-killed-so-many-people thought process and yet proceeds to kiss him silly a few paragraphs later. 

Dorian and Chaol were just as uninteresting. 

Dorian, despite being the crown prince, disagrees with what his evil father is doing and feels bad for the literal genocide that has occurred and yet has done nothing to stand up to his dad or even speak up. 

Chaol was probably my favorite out of the three, but that’s just because I have a soft spot for prickly characters who are actually mushy on the inside. Despite this, Chaol lacked any real characterization other than being stoic, being an amazing fighter, and getting jealous of Dorian and Celaena’s relationship every other page. 

There are other characters, but they’re honestly not worth mentioning. Nehemia, a visiting princess, adds some not-needed mystery and Kaltain is your typical power-hungry girl willing to do literally anything to win the prince’s heart. 

There are the other competitors that Celaena has to fight in order to be crowned the King’s Champion and win her freedom, but they don’t matter except for Cain, a big, beefy dude who is laughably evil and strong. 

The premise itself I actually didn’t mind. Celaena being an assassin was fine and interesting, but it lost all traction when others justify her past murders, call her innocent, and she quickly becomes the savior of the kingdom and the oppressed people. 

It would have been so much more interesting if she struggled with her morals, if she was tormented by her past, and yet didn’t regret it. Who knows, maybe that happens in future books, but I honestly don’t know why Maas didn’t make her the best underground street fighter or something instead of an assassin. 

The assassin bit didn’t work with the character Maas was trying to present Celaena to be. 

I did like the competition to be the King’s Champion, that Celaena had to win her freedom, the mystery of the murdered champions, and the mystery of the wyrd marks, but eventually Maas added too many mysteries and they all got tangled together. 

I think Maas bit off more than she could chew and eventually things were just summarized. I wanted to see all of the tests and trials the champions had to go through, but instead we’re just given basic run downs of what happened in short paragraphs towards the end. 

The same thing happens with the murders and certain characters leaving, like Nox. 

It felt incredibly underwhelming to have these really interesting mysteries presented and then tossed away like they didn’t matter near the end of the book. 

You might wonder, why did Maas do that? Why summarize these really tantalizing tidbits? Instead of getting action and character development while advancing the plot, several chapters from the middle to the end were just about Celaena and whomever hanging out. 

I kid you not. 

It felt like there was a span of a hundred pages where literally nothing significant happened and where Celaena would play billiards with Dorian, would go for a walk with Chaol, would chat with Nehemia, blah, blah, blah. 

Excruciating. 

That being said, it wasn’t all negative. Maas’ world-building, the mention of other countries and geographical landmarks were really fun and well done. Unfortunately, we don’t get to see anything except for the Glass Castle. 

Overall, I think I missed out on a Throne of Glass. 

I don’t think it’s a poorly done series, but I do think that YA as a genre has changed and shifted a lot since 2012 and a book that was popular back then does not necessarily equate to a book that is popular now. 

If you like this series, I don’t blame you and can see why it was initially as beloved as it was. If you read this book in 2012, fell in love, and have stuck with it ever since, I totally understand. 

However, the choppy pacing, the banal characters, the rudimentary plot near the end, the plethora of tropes, the lack of representation, and the lack of originality don’t do it for me ten years later. 

Recommendation: If you’ve been following Maas since her fictionpress.com days and have kept up with every book she’s published since, that’s awesome. I love that for you. 

However, in 2022, there are so many better books and better series and nothing about Throne of Glass makes me want to read more. I’m willing to try A Court of Thorns and Roses, considering it’s marked as adult fiction, was published later, and a different series all together, but we’ll have to see.

 Let me know if you think A Court of Thorns and Roses is worth reading. Otherwise, Sarah J. Maas just isn’t the writer for me and I’m okay with that. 

Score: 5/10

#throne of glass #sara j maas #a court of thorns and roses #ya fiction #YA Books #YA literature #top books #popular fiction #Popular Books #book blog #book review #Book Recommendations #YA Book Review #book recs #5/10

[punkenglishnerd]

I’ve written and rewritten this post a thousand times and I can’t seem to fully express what I want to say. So I’ll just write my main points here:

The police brutality that has been happening are hate crimes. They are murder. These criminals masquerading as policemen need to be brought to justice.

People who are not black have to recognize their privilege, and that includes both white people and non-black POC. I recognize my privilege as a non-black POC and a mixed-race POC, and I will not speak over black voices or tell them what they should and shouldn’t do, how they should and shouldn’t feel, how they should and shouldn’t react.

#there is so much more i could say #but i've been struggling to express my thoughts #and these two bullet points honestly get most of my thoughts across #for those of you who don't know #i live in a suburb right outside minneapolis #and i'm seeing firsthand not only the protests #but people's reactions to the protests #and i could go on about my thoughts on that #but for now i'll leave this post as is #i'm sure this will start some discourse #and i'll probably get some hate #probably not from my followers #but i'm sure some people are trolling posts with certain key words #and commenting/hating on the ones they disagree with #all i ask is that if anyone does want to start discourse on this post #please keep it civil and respectful #which realistically i probably know won't happen #but there's no harm in asking to try to keep things as respectful as possible #poc #tw racism #tw police brutality #tw murder

[crankynewt]

Good for a Weekend (Helmut Zemo)

Masterlist

Summary: You were retired, a disgraced Avenger content living the rest of their life out in solitude. But Sam and Bucky's shenanigans dragged you back into the hero life and you found yourself face to face with the man who'd got you into this mess in the first place. The question is, however, is he really who you thought he was? Or are you just as crazy as him?

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Reader

Warnings: TFAWS Episode 3 Spoilers, Zemo (he's a warning), swearing, mentions of torture and experimenting (past), drinking, Zemo being semi-protective, I think that's it??

Word Count: 3.41k

Author's Note: Biting the bullet and writing this BEFORE Marvel does something to get us to hate him again. Also, ZEMO AND BLANK SPACE WORK SO WELL TOGETHER OMG.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” You murmured, looking at the message from Sam flashing across your phone. Although you had stopped dead in your tracks, the chaos of the bustling streets of London continued around you. You pushed your sunglasses further up your nose, them having fallen down as you were peering at the screen of your burner cell.

‘Need your help in Madripoor ASAP,’ the text read. You weren’t daft, you knew exactly what kind of lawless entropy happened on that Indonesian island and if Sam was asking for your help, that meant he was in some deep shit.

‘I’m retired,’ you replied, glancing over your shoulder out of habit. Although you’d been pardoned after the Berlin incident by the government, you were still a disgraced Avenger in the eyes of the world. All you wanted was to live the rest of your life out in peace, a future without the world-saving you began when you left HYDRA with the Maximoff twins.

You hadn’t chosen to become a human lab rat, tortured and exposed to the mind stone until you could suddenly hear the thoughts of others in your head. Telepathy and telekinesis were not necessarily the kind of special skills that employers wanted to see on a resume, but alas, here you were. Thankfully, however, you'd learned to block them out until necessary to violate people's privacy. Fighting aliens and other superpowered entities, including the people you’d once considered to be your family, were in the past.

‘Please. It’s Bucky,’ Sam messaged again. Those three words were enough to make your blood run cold and your heart stop. Bucky was the reason you were in this mess in the first place, and you would be damned if the ex-assassin was going to fall back into the clutches of evil.

With a sigh, you typed back ‘fine’ and began the trek towards your apartment. Your phone was vibrating again immediately, Sam explaining that they would be picking you up at a small airstrip on the edge of the city.

Three hours later, you were walking along a long, concrete runway, the harsh England wind attacking your body as you pulled your leather jacket tighter around you. Your brows furrowed in confusion at the sight of a civilian jet rather than the military-esque vessels you’d become accustomed to. The steps were awaiting your ascent with an older man stood adjacent to the entrance.

“Ms.(Y/L/N),” he greeted. A thick accent laced his tone, one you couldn’t quite determine from the crackling of age in his voice. German or Russian, most likely, you deduced. Attempting to be polite despite your skepticism, you gave him a tight-lipped smile and handshake before the elder man gestured towards the stairs for you. Entering the jet, you turned right to be met with the familiar faces of Sam and Bucky.

“(Y/N)!” Bucky exclaimed, rising from his seat and embracing you in a hug. He held you tightly against his body, almost as if he wasn’t sure you were really there. The super soldier had taken a liking to you when the two of you stayed in Wakanda during your exile, both of you having a certain understanding of the other due to your shared experiences with HYDRA. The sergeant had become somewhat of a brother to you in your time away together. “What are you doing here?”

“Sam messaged me.” You replied, Barnes’ arms immediately releasing you as he whipped around to face Sam.

“You tattled on me to (Y/N)?” He scoffed. If looks could kill, Sam would have dropped dead from the darkness in Bucky’s orbs.

“Wait, if he’s okay then what am I here for?” You said, shifting your gaze to Sam as you raised a brow.

“You’re here to make sure that he stays in line.” Sam snapped, crossing his arms over his chest as Bucky let out an exasperated ‘Jesus Christ’ under his breath.

“Bucky’s fine, Sam.” You replied, rubbing your face with your hand in annoyance as you glanced at the super-soldier.

“He’s not talking about James.” A new voice sounded from behind you, one both vaguely familiar but also strange. Whipping around, you were met with a face you’d only ever seen through a screen. Zemo.

“What the fuck is he doing out of prison?!” You exclaimed, looking between Sam and Bucky in utter disbelief.

“Bucky broke him out of jail!” Sam exclaimed, pointing a finger towards the super-soldier.

“Sam’s the one who pulled me into this mess!” Bucky pointed back.

“You two morons have reached a whole new level of dumbassery!” You exclaimed, keeping a cautious gaze on Zemo in the corner of your eye. “You broke out the man who ripped apart the Avengers out of jail and you let him do it?! The same man who killed King T’Chaka! Do neither of you remember what T’Challa and the people of Wakanda just did for us after we became enemies of the state?! I cannot believe that you would betray their trust and help this monster to escape!”

You paused for a moment, breathing heavily as you looked at the ashamed faces of Bucky and Sam in front of you.

“I’m sorry to-” You heard Zemo begin, you turned to face him with utter rage shining in your eyes. “No! The grown-ups are talking, you can wait your turn.” You scolded him, almost as you would a child but just a tad harsher. Grown-ups may have also not have been the best choice of words to describe Wilson and Barnes.

“I don’t want any part of this suicide mission!” You snapped at the duo, moving to leave.

Thirty minutes later, however, you were still on the jet, glaring into a pair of brown eyes as the four of you flew through the air. Honestly, you couldn’t believe you were still there, but Sam and Bucky knew you too well and pushed just the right buttons to convince you to stay. Sam needed you to tap into Zemo’s mind if need be to figure out if he was planning on betraying them, and you didn’t want two of the last people you trust getting themselves killed if you could prevent it.

Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum were sitting across from each other, meaning that you got stuck sitting across from the Baron in silence. He shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, the darkness in your (Y/E/C) orbs not sitting well with the man.

“So, you read minds.” He began, rubbing his hands together anxiously. You noted the nervous tick and couldn’t help but feel amused at his discomfort, but your expression never faltered.

“You don’t need to make small talk.” You bit, your icy tone growing colder in every syllable.

“I’m genuinely curious, is all.” He began, pausing his fiddling to brush his hair back only to resume it once more. “It just seems like for someone with your abilities, you’re often an overlooked member of the team. You’re the most powerful, even more so than Maximoff or Banner, perhaps, yet you were never truly an Avenger, were you?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m retired.” You muttered, ending your glaring to gaze out the window. The way Zemo spoke about you was unsettling, especially considering how he felt about the Avengers. He seemed not to think that you were part of the team, similarly to Bucky, and that brought you a feeling of unease.

“And why is that?” Zemo pushed, your avoidance evidence that he’d struck a chord.

“Why do you care?” You scoffed, looking back at the Sokovian man, both annoyance and exhaustion present in your tone.

“Because I think you’re like me.” He answered, his tone becoming quieter. Zemo didn’t look at you with the same rage you’d seen in footage from 2016, nor with the amusement that he gazed at Bucky and Sam with. No, it was something different, softer and analytical, perhaps. You wanted to peer into his mind for something, anything to figure out what he was thinking, but he would likely feel your prodding into his consciousness. As of now, he didn’t seem to have any plans to betray you guys, and you wouldn’t be the one to give him a reason.

“That’s enough from you.” Bucky interrupted, rising from his seat to switch places with you, his brotherly possessiveness clear as day.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, and Zemo provided the three of you with costumes for the roles you were to play in Madripoor. Yours seemed to have been designed specifically to be horribly uncomfortable, both in feel and the amount of skin that was exposed in the cool evening air. The three of you were making your way towards the glowing city shining in the distance, the nerves in your stomach rising with each step.

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp.” Zemo explained in response to Sam’s protests over his own outfit. “You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“He even has a bad nickname.” Sam said, looking at the picture of Conrad on the phone Zemo had just handed him. “Hell, he does look like me though.”

“And who am I supposed to be playing, exactly?” You questioned, still unsure as to what role you would be playing in this scheme.

“My partner,” Zemo said simply, an amused smile working his way onto his lips.

“What?! No! Nu-uh, I’m not doing that!” You protested, Sam chuckling at your denial of what was probably inevitable.

“Would you rather the alternative of all of us getting slaughtered the second we step foot into the city?” Zemo retorted, still humored by your resistance.

“Fine, but if you try anything I’m going to break your nose.” You gave in.

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

Soon, the four of you were making your way into a bar, Helmut’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist since the second you exited the car in a mock possessiveness. It was all part of the charade, you had to remind yourself, as the Baron kept your side pressed against his snugly.

Making your way up to the counter, the bartender didn’t look impressed to see the group of you there as he made his way over to you.

“Hello,” He began. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed. We have a business to do, with Selby.” Zemo interjected before Sam could respond.

“The usual?” The bartender ignored Zemo and turned his attention back to Sam, who simply gave a curt nod in response. The bartender turned, grabbing a snake from a jar and slicing it down the underside with a blade. A part of you wanted to cackle, especially seeing Sam stiffen beside you, and you didn’t doubt that Bucky was having to restrain himself as well. Zemo didn’t seem surprised as the bartender pulled who knows what out from the snake and placed it into a glass.

“Smiling Tiger, your favorite.” The Baron commented, the bartender sliding Sam his beverage only to pour two glasses of a different liquor for Zemo and yourself.

“I love these,” Sam said, raising to clink glasses with yourself and the Sokovian man whose arm was still draped around you.

“Cheers, Conrad,” Zemo replied, smiling back at poor Sam. The three of you downed your burning liquor, Sam struggling the most out of the three of you, clearly appalled by the organ at the bottom of his shot. You could see Bucky give a little nod in the corner of your eye, knowing he must be finding this as amusing as you were.

A man soon approached Helmut from behind, tapping him on the shoulder before he turned to face the stranger, shifting you with him. When Zemo felt the little nudge, he immediately pulled you closer to him. You were even tighter against him now, so much so that you had to wrap an arm around him as well to stabilize yourself. It was almost as if he was trying to shield you from the man despite him knowing full well that you can hold your own.

“I got word from on high; you ain’t welcome here.” He spat, getting too close to the two of you for either of your likings. But Zemo kept his air of indifference while you instinctually moved closer into his side. It’s all an act, remember? You have to play the part of the clingy partner who would get frightened at such a rough man threatening you two. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo began, trailing off as he gestured to Bucky.

“New haircut?” The strange man asked Bucky, who merely glowered in response.

“Or bring Selby for a chat.” Zemo finished, this time him being the one to get into the man’s face. Thankfully that was enough to send him away, most likely to Selby or this Power Broker who seems to be Madripoor’s own version of Big Brother.

You could feel Zemo let out a breath that you don’t think he even knew he was holding, giving a quick glance down at you before placing a peck on your temple. For the facade, of course. But what wasn’t fake were the butterflies rise in your stomach, something that you hadn’t felt in a long time. Were you… Flustered?

No, you reminded yourself internally. This was a very bad man holding you close, the same one who killed the former King of Wakanda and ripped your team to shreds. Not only that, but he hated all the Avengers, so why did he seem to like you? It doesn’t matter whether or not he likes you, he’s Zemo. But the more time you spent with him, the more intoxicated you became. He was starting to look more and more like your next mistake, and love is certainly not a game you wanted to be playing with him. Right?

The next thirty or so minutes were a blur. Bucky having to fake being the Winter Soldier to kick a bunch of men’s asses to finally meeting up with Selby, only for Sam to break your cover through a phone call and Selby quickly being shot. The four of you promptly exited the bar, attempting to remain inconspicuous until bounty hunters from all around started shooting at you. Bucky and Sam jumped forward, meanwhile, Zemo darted to the right, dragging you with him as he moved his hand from your waist to interlock your fingers.

You cut through alleyway after alleyway, hiding in the shadows as gunfire echoed around you. Eventually, you managed to catch up with Bucky and Sam, approaching the pair with your hand still in his.

“Well this is too perfect.” A female voice interrupted your mini-reunion, Sharon Carter emerging from the shadows as she ripped down her hood, gun fixated on Zemo.

“Drop it Zemo,” She started, Zemo raising his gun-holding hand before lowering the weapon to the ground. “You cost me everything.”

“Sharon, wait.” You reasoned, raising your hand as you slowly backed up.

“What, are you his lover now? His sugar baby or some shit?” She badgered you, causing your eyes to widen as you only just remembered that you were still holding his hand. You quickly dropped it, raising it to match your other arm as Zemo sent you a look that you couldn’t decipher. Oh, how desperately you wanted to look into his mind, but the little bit of sanity left in you told you to leave it be.

“Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead,” Sam explained.

“That explains why you guys are here. And Selby’s dead.” Sharon replied, gun still pointed at your group.

“So what are you doing here?” Bucky questioned the blonde.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass so that you could save his ass from his ass and became a criminal with their ass.” She explained, pointing the gun at each mention of whoever's ass it was that turn. “Unlike you, I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up, so, I’m off the grid in Madripoor.”

“Hey, don’t blow that smoke. I was on the run, too.” Sam rebutted Sharon’s complaints.

“Was. Is. Big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore - I can’t. My own father doesn’t know where I am.”

“Listen…” You began. “Sharon, we need your help, the former agent only laughing in response. “Please.”

“This isn’t over.” She conceded, shaking her head at you. “I have a place in High Town, you should be safe there for a while.”

Sharon’s place was definitely nicer than yours is now, and you’re not even on the run anymore. She, thankfully, had a change of clothes for you to slip into, the soft material much a welcome relief from the tortuous item Zemo had you wearing.

While you were waiting for Sharon’s guests to begin arriving for whatever event would soon be taking place downstairs, everybody slowly filtered out of the room until it was only Zemo and yourself remaining.

“Can I ask you a question?” You spoke up, breaking the silence from your spot on the sofa as you glanced towards the Baron seated across the room.

“Ask away.” He smiled, taking a sip from the amber liquid in his glass.

“What did you mean earlier, when you said we were the same.” Your voice was quiet now, so much so that you weren’t sure if he’d even heard you. That is until he got up from his seat and slowly walked towards you.

“I never wanted to tear the Avengers apart, not until they killed my family. Destroyed my city… Sure, I didn’t like them, but I didn’t want to destroy them. It was all about vengeance.” He began, sitting beside you on the yellow fabric. “For you, it was HYDRA who ruined your life. You joined the Avengers because it was where the last people you had left were going and it was the easiest way for you to ensure the organization was destroyed. You never wanted the idolization that came with being a hero, and it was clear when your work was done that you had no desire to keep going. Everything that came after the Sokovia Accords was out of survival.”

“I’m not saying you're right,” you began, “but what would that make me, then? Insane? Cause that seems to be the running theory.”

“You’re not crazy, despite how rumors fly. Neither am I, really.” He began, eliciting a small smile from you at the last bit he added. “You’re a fighter, someone doing whatever it takes to get their agenda done. Whether that means breaking the law or joining the Avengers, nothing will stop you once you put your mind to it - it’s one of the things I admire about you.”

You pursed your lips as you focused on the amber fluid floating in its crystalline home, him taking another sip of the burning liquid. Your gaze shifted back to his face, and oh god, look at that face. Maybe it was the liquor in your system already or maybe your last bit of sanity was finally escaping your mind, but suddenly his past didn’t seem to matter anymore. You had plenty of red on your ledger as well, and the more he spoke the more you began to sympathize with him.

“So you admire me?” You smirked, crossing your arms as you tilted your head slightly to the right playfully.

“Why don’t you look into my mind and tell me?” He replied. Reaching out, you gently placed your fingers against his temple as you gazed into his consciousness. Flashes of magic and madness, ideas of a love that could be forever or go down in flames. You didn’t go searching deeper, because your own mind was racing. Would pursuing this be worth all the pain that could very well follow? No, not could, would. You’d be betraying your former teammates, but what did that matter much anymore.

Rather than pulling your hand away, you placed your lips gently on his, tentatively, even. He tasted of expensive liquor and a hint of peppermint, and you found yourself intoxicated. The kiss ended far too soon for your liking, him pulling away so his brown orbs could gaze into your own.

“So… What do you say?” He asked, cupping your cheek in his hand, you place your own over top of his.

“Why not?” You smiled back, reconnecting your lips to his.

“I can make the bad guys good for a weekend.”

Taglist:

@fanfictionedagain @lam-ila @b0nnyzz @haydieenzzibug @cyanide-mustard @duchess-of-new-shire @the-chocoholic-writer @milenadixon @real-fbi @golddenlioness

#i feel so guilty writing this lmao #i hate liking zemo rip #helmut zemo #zemo #helmut zemo x reader #tfaws #marvel #baron zemo #helmut zemo imagine #daniel bruhl #mcu #tfaws imagine #bucky barnes #sam wilson #zemo x reader #zemo imagine

[shadow-assassin-blix]

Never Thought This Would Happen

Soulmate AU: Combination of two different soulmate ideas. You can feel each other’s physical pains and if you write on your body, it will show up on your soulmate’s as well.

This is for the Ben Barnes Secret Santa fic exchange. @fific7​ I hope you enjoy this!  

Billy Russo x reader. Word count: 5137.

Warnings: Mentions of being hit by a car, some canon typical violence (neither incidents are overly detailed) and Billy talking about his past abuse. Lots of fluff, some angst, a dash of spice.

Happy Holidays! 

Soulmate. The concept always made Billy scoff. He didn’t believe in it despite the fact that whatever happened to your body, whether it was an injury, or a message written on their body you could feel/see it. He very often rolled his eyes when he would see a silly message on his arm. His soulmate greatly enjoyed drawing smiley faces or sending puns. He tended to ignore it. Hell. He didn’t even think about the potential pain he put her through when he joined the marines. Nor did he think about it when he, Frank, and Curtis created Anvil together and went on dangerous missions together.

He didn’t think about… until the day he met her in the hospital.

It was supposed to be an ordinary guard job. Protect the rich schmuck from retaliation as he campaigned to be New York’s Mayor. No one suspected that someone would be so angry about his political views, that they would try and take him out. Frank wound up getting shot trying to protect him. The three of them were at the hospital, as Frank was prepped for surgery to remove the bullets and the fragments.

Most of the day he had felt a tickling sensation on his arm, as his soulmate sent message after message to him. It was starting to annoy him. He and Curtis were waiting for a doctor to tell them about Frank’s progress, when Billy felt a sudden pain randomly throughout his body. The pain was overwhelming to the point where he had to sit down; Curtis trying to help by coaching him through breathing techniques.

As that occurred, the doors to the emergency room burst open as EMTs raced in pushing a gurney with a young woman on it.

Several doctors and nurses sprung into action, asking for the details about what happened.

“Car accident. Young lady was hit trying to walk across the street. Several bones are broken, and we suspect that she has some internal bleeding. Guy ran the red light going 80mph,” One of the EMT’s explained quickly.

Billy spotted as she was pushed past several doodles and words on her arms. Billy took off his suit jacket and rolled up sleeve; his mind hoping that he was wrong. That this was just a coincidence.

He saw the words “Hey! I’m in NY right now, and wow! Everything is amazing! Is it silly that I kinda hope you live in the area?” “Trying a slice of NY style pizza for the 1st time!” with a doodle of a pizza slice next to it. He looked between his arm and hers, and he realized… with growing concern… that they matched.

She was rolled back into surgery, and he stared at the doors with a blank face.

“Hey man? Talk to me. What’s going through that brain of yours? Did you know that girl?” Curtis questioned him, trying to figure out why Billy was so freaked out.

“I… I think that was my soulmate?” Billy breathed once it finally registered.

Curtis stared at him in mild shock, “I don’t know whether to feel bad for you or laugh. The forever bachelor’s soulmate has appeared.”

Billy honestly didn’t know how to feel either. His first thought was to avoid her at all costs. He focused his attention on Frank and making sure he stayed safe.

It wasn’t until several hours later that they were informed that Frank was resting comfortably in his own room. Surgery was a success.

The nurse informed them that only one visitor at a time could see him, so while Curtis stepped inside, Billy stayed out in the hall. While he waited, he noticed that in the room next to Frank’s, was his soulmate.

‘It’s…it’s not possible right? It’s… it’s just a coincidence?’ He thought as he stepped into her room, hesitantly.

He walked over to her, his eyes roving over the many bandages that covered her body.

He pulled out a pen, and drew a random swirl on his hand, his eyes staring intently at hers. A moment passed and a swirl appeared on her hand, identical to his.

“So, it really is you?” Billy sighed, unsure of how to feel.

Billy was adamant he would never meet his soulmate, and that if he did, he would ignore them. He wasn’t one to be tied down. However, he didn’t expect that this is how they would meet. This was the first time he ever truly felt pain from his soulmate, and it was eye-opening. It made him… feel a bit guilty… for his lack of care in avoiding getting harmed.

He walked back out into the hallway trying to figure out… Figure out what? His next move? Did… did he want to get to know her? He almost felt like he had to explain himself to her. Or… did he actually want to get to know her? His thoughts felt chaotic.

Maybe… maybe if he talked to Frank? Frank who had found a second in Karen, his first soulmate being Marie. Maybe… maybe he’d know what to do?

Curtis had stepped out of Frank’s room, and was going to call Karen, to let her know what happened, so Billy figured now would be best.

Billy took a seat next to his bed, and Frank sighed heavily.

“Sometimes… I really hate our job,” Frank joked slightly.

“But… we’re good at it, right?” Billy tossed back, with a slight smirk.

Frank shook his head, before staring at him seriously, “So… Curtis mentioned something strange. Your soulmate… is here?”

“…Yeah. She’s uhh. She’s next door in fact. I… I’m not sure what to do,” Billy admitted.

“Wasn’t your original plan something along the lines of ‘pretend they don’t exist?’ You were always so sure of that response,” Frank pointed out, with a slight frown.

“..Yeah.. However, it wasn’t until today that… I realized just how much that shit hurts, when you are able to feel their pain,” Billy began scratching at his chin before trying to dismiss, “I guess part of me feels a bit guilty for the constant shit I put my body through.”

“Well… the Marines was one thing… but you do realize that she probably also felt..” Frank jerked his head toward Billy’s shoulder.

Billy froze at that realization. He never thought about the possibility that she may have felt him being attacked by that bastard when he was a kid. He touched his shoulder, trying not to think too deeply about the memories.

“…What do you think I should do?” Billy asked quietly.

“I mean… I know what I would. Go next door and introduce myself. I also know that for all the confidence you have brother, you have never been one for commitment. Whether that’s due to you trying to protect yourself or if you really think you’d be happier being the forever bachelor, I don’t know. I do know that you owe her some explanation for the hell you’ve probably put her through. Not saying you have to immediately fall in love and date her but have a conversation with her and go from there,” Frank answered with a sigh.

“When did you get so wise?” Billy joked weakly.

“Marie. She always wanted the best for you, you know? Wanted you happy and be with someone who made you feel whole,” Frank said with a chuckle.

Billy shook his head thinking about Marie and her constant fretting. Billy moved to say something else, but he heard Karen’s voice freaking out in the hallway. Billy snorted standing up and making his way back out to the hallway as Karen rushed past.

A couple of hours passed, as Curtis and Billy made several phone calls trying to put out the fires that had occurred due to the shooting. Once everything had settled the two of them took a breath, sitting down.

Curtis was talking to him about something, but Billy didn’t hear him as he noticed a doctor and nurse walk into the room that held his soulmate. His focus was zeroed in on her.

A few minutes passed before the staff walked out, and Curtis had given up trying to get Billy’s attention.

Billy wasn’t sure how but suddenly he was standing in her doorway, about to step in. He pulled out the pen he had on him, gripping it tightly as he moved further in.

The woman, his soulmate, looked up at him, confused… and slightly worried.

“Hello? May I help you?” Her voice asked him cautiously.

Billy slowly lifted the pen and wrote ‘hello’ on his hand. The woman watched him curiously, before looking down at her own hand a moment later.

She gasped lightly as she looked between the two of them.

“Umm. Hey?” He started with a wince, feeling awkward.

She stared at him for a moment, before saying, “Bummer.”

It was Billy’s turn to be confused, “Excuse me?”

“Was hoping you’d be ugly. It would at least make up for the fact that you’ve ignored me and the bullshit pain I’ve gone through because of you. But nooo. You had to be drop dead gorgeous,” She grumbled slightly, shaking her head.

Billy stared at her blankly for a moment and after he processed what she said he weakly chuckled, “Think you’re the first person to ever be disappointed by me being handsome.”

“Oh! I’m not disappointed! Please don’t take what I said too seriously! I just… I mean… never thought that this is how we would meet y’know?” She said worriedly.

“Not gonna lie. I never thought this would happen either. Are you… are you okay?” He asked her, his eyes glancing at the many bandages.

“Yeah. I’m good for now. Can’t believe it took me getting hit by a car for my soulmate to actually write back to me,” She said with a teasing smile.

“Well, not gonna lie, besides the occasional random pains in my abdomen and papercuts, you’ve lived your life pretty cautiously. So, it was kind of flooring to feel all that pain and then… see you pass by while I was waiting to hear on my friend,” Billy noted, sighing. “He had gotten shot and was in surgery when you were rolled by me.”

“Oh wow. That’s quite the double whammy. Umm. By the way… what’s your name? Cause mentally I keep calling you Handsome and I don’t want to accidentally say it aloud when we’ve only just met,” The woman reminded him.

“Billy Russo. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” Billy began.

She told him her name before saying “You can call me London though. It’s a nickname that my friends gave me.”

“Why London?” Billy asked curiously.

“I lived in England for many years. It was practically home for me. However, as a photographer, I tend to travel as much as possible. Never been one to settle down in one location,” London explained to him. “My friends chose London cause that’s where a big portion of my first portfolios were set in.”

Billy opened his mouth to say something else when his phone rang. He sighed heavily, apologizing as he answered it.

“Russo,” He stated first, listening to the person talking. “What are you talking about? The job is done. We are not going to protect someone who refused to give us all the facts about the threats against him. He can find someone else to take bullets for him. I am not putting my team at risk again.”

He hung up with a growl of annoyance.

“Hm. That… that was oddly sexy,” London mumbled to herself.

Billy ran a hand down his face, feeling exhausted.

“Sorry. Umm. Work. So… are you here in New York for work or for fun?” Billy asked trying to seem casual.

“Both. I have a couple of weddings, and other jobs lined up, especially with journalists. Was supposed to meet a journalist to talk about some company called Anvil? I don’t know,” London said with a shrug.

Billy froze then chuckled.

“What?” London asked him, head tilted trying to figure him out.

“Well. It seems that… fate was going to bring you to me no matter what. I own Anvil. My best friends, Frank Castle and Curtis Hoyle, run it with me. I… I can’t believe this,” Billy shook his head in disbelief.

“Whoa. No way. You’re the CEO of the security agency? The former marine? And whoa wait… You’re best friends with the Punisher?” London couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Yes to all of the above,” Billy answered with pride.

“Marine. Hmm. Well. That explains a lot,” She said somewhat quietly.

Billy moved further into her room finally, asking silently if he could sit. At her nod, he does so.

“Uh. Yeah. Sorry about that… I guess I was. Well. Am pretty cavalier with my life. Most of what you felt was from me in the marines, and I apologize for not… taking your feelings into consideration. I’m sure… those pains were pretty alarming to you?” Billy apologized to her, feeling it was necessary.

“Yeah… it’s… quite the shocker to suddenly feel like I was shot and nothing to show for it. However, I will forgive you if…” She trailed off.

“If what?” Billy asked her, trying to appear annoyed.

“If… you give me a grand tour of NY. All of the best places to go. It doesn’t have to be… a romantic date or anything. I just want to get to know you, if you are down for that?” She proposed to him.

Billy looked at her for a moment. Really looked at her. Taking in her features, and her soft smile.

“I think I can handle that. Shall we exchange numbers? You can tell me when you’re released, and I can come get you if you’d like?” Billy offered.

Her smiled brightened and Billy found himself smiling back. A part of him was chastising himself, asking ‘why would you offer that? You don’t know this woman? Even if she is your soulmate? What happened to not wanting anything to do with her?’ However, a larger part of him desperately wanted to see her smile again.

They exchanged numbers, and he left her to rest alone. He stepped out into the hallway to see Curtis smirking at him.

“How did it go Prince Charming?” Curtis asked teasingly.

“Surprisingly well. So, let’s… let’s go get some grub… or a drink or two, yeah?” Billy suggested to him.

Curtis nodded his head and the two of them were off to their usual haunt; a local bar that served burgers and fries. The two of them after ordering, sat at the bar idly chatting. About 20 minutes had passed and Curtis started chuckling at him, out of the blue.

“What? What’s so funny?” Billy questioned him.

“Appears that soulmate of yours is occupying your mind. At least 3 women have tried flirting with you and you’ve yet to notice,” Curtis said once his laughter had calmed down.

Billy blinked, looking at him in mild confusion, “Huh?”

“You got it bad man. 20 minutes in and she already got you hooked,” Curtis said with a shake of his head.

Billy had no idea how to respond to that. He just continued drinking his beer, and further distracted himself when the food came out. It was true, he was thinking about London, but he didn’t want to admit that. He was going to take this one day at time, and just go from there.

A few days later, both Frank and London were being released from the hospital. Billy waited outside with Karen who kept staring at him confused. Most likely due to the fact that he held a small teddy bear.

London was rolled out first and Billy smiled smally at her walking over to meet her.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He asked her as he and the nurse helped her stand up.

“I’m okay. Sore. But okay. Is that for me?” She asked him, looking at the teddy bear.

“Yes. Thought about flowers but wasn’t sure if you had any allergies. Figured the bear was the safer option,” Billy somewhat mumbled, sheepishly.

She quietly told him her favorite flower, and said, “The bear is very cute though, so thank you.”

Billy cleared his throat as he handed it to her, and then walked her over to his car. Billy was so preoccupied with her that he failed to notice Frank coming out and staring at him with a growing smirk.

Karen stood next to him, looking between him and Billy, questions littering her face.

“His soulmate. Guess Curtis was right, his attention really has become centered around her,” Frank spoke lowly, watching Billy take off in his car once he got her situated.

Karen snorted, trying not to laugh.

“Poor guy. Never seen him look so nervous, which didn’t make sense until now. Think he’s ever going to actually introduce her to us?” Karen asked as she and Frank moved to her car.

“Once the whole thing fully settles in his mind. I’m sure part of him still is trying to process this. Knowing him, he might come to a point where he distances himself from her for a time. When you’re used to being disappointed a lot, you tend to expect it,” Frank answered once they were in the car.

Back with Billy, they were halfway to her apartment that she was staying at.

“So… I know you said you were in New York for work… how long are you here for?” Billy questioned breaking the silence.

“I am booked out for the next year for various events. Trying to get rid of me already?” She lightly teased him.

“No. I was just.. wondering. You said the other day that you don’t like to be tied down to one place for too long,” Billy trailed off, not sure why the thought bothered him.

“Oh. I did say that didn’t I? I mean… I can find a reason or two to stay here already. However, we have a year to figure things out. We have time to decide… whatever we want this to be,” She offered, hesitantly moving to hold his hand, hers hovering over his.

Billy nodded not looking at her as he quietly grasped her hand and held it.

She bit her lip trying to hide her smile as she watched him. She could tell he was not used to this. Granted, it had been a while since she had been in a relationship herself, and her longest relationship didn’t last more than a couple of months. Between them finding their own soulmates, and others hating that she traveled for work, dating was difficult.

He took her home, and they discussed their plans for tomorrow. They discussed going to Central Park Zoo and taking a stroll around the park. She never got to try NY style pizza the other day, so they made a plan to go get a slice or 2 for lunch.

He made sure she was settled and comfortable, before leaving her.

The next day rolled around, and the two of them began their… date? At the zoo. She brought her camera with her, taking candids/snapshots of all the animals. Unbeknownst to him, she took a few shots of him while he wasn’t paying attention. He eventually caught on, playfully glaring at her.

“Alright my little shutterbug, shall we go get pizza?” Billy asked as they reached the end.

“‘My little shutterbug?’ Don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before. But yes. Let’s goooo,” She cheered.

The two of them ate, and Billy couldn’t help but think about how adorable she was while she listened intently to him explain the proper way to eat a slice of NY style pizza. Even moreso when she was eating and making a mess of herself.

Once they finished eating, they started the walk toward her apartment due to her feeling exhausted.

“Sorry. I feel like such an old lady, but everything is starting to feel sore again,” She explained with a wince.

“Don’t be. I understand. Do you need anything before I go?” Billy inquired, as she made her way inside and he stood in her doorway.

“I’m good. You… you can come in y’know?” She pointed out as she looked back at him.

Billy slowly took a step in, feeling very much not like himself. He was usually overly confident and self-assured and would have strutted in without any uncertainties.

He looked around her apartment and saw a lot of photography equipment, and photos scattered everywhere.

“So… would you like to… stay… and watch a movie or two?” She asked him after taking some medicine.

“Depends… Are you going to make me watch chick flicks?” Billy shot back with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean… while I do have some chick flicks, I have a great deal of other genres lots of action. Basically, every Disney movie possible,” She began listing, but stopped when she saw his nose twinge. “Do… do you not like Disney?”

“Never saw one to be honest. Just know they are kid’s shit,” Billy said with a shrug.

She gasped dramatically, “Never seen any of them? Oh. Ohhh we are fixing that. This is happening. I’m not sure what kind of childhood you had but you were deprived.”

Billy didn’t say anything in response to that, just watched her run over to a shelf full of brightly colored DVDS cases.

“We shall start from the beginning. Snow White doesn’t tend to be my favorite, but she is the first Disney movie. Well. Correction, she is the first Disney Princess Movie, the first cartoon is Steamboat Willie, but I digress. I will catch you up on them all. You show me all of New York, I show you all of Disney movie franchise. These will be our goals for the next year,” She rambled slightly, as she tugged him over to her couch, after popping the DVD in the player.

Billy sat next to her, pulling his phone out of his pocket and setting it down on coffee table. He shook his head as she curled up next to him, leaning against his arm slightly. As the movie began, he moved his arm to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her in closer. He can see her smile as she scooted closer to him, head moving to lie against his shoulder.

He watched the movie with her with vague interest, not quite understanding the plot. The movie ended and he turned to her with questions getting ready to pour from his mouth.

“Listen. I know. They… they don’t get much better. But the music is good and they’re pretty to look at, so we forgive the terrible plots,” She explained to him with a laugh.

And so began their weekly tradition of watching a Disney movie (or two depending on the mood), as part of their date nights. About 2 months had passed and after a long day of training and meetings, he was ready to just collapse into his bed. When he got to his apartment, London was waiting for him, with a bag full of Chinese takeout and a case of beer.

“You’re beautiful and wonderful, have I told ya that?” He murmured to her, leaning down to kiss her, before unlocking his door.

“Long day babe?” She asked him, as she watched him leave a trail of clothes and items on his way to his bedroom.

She heard him answer somewhat muffled, as she unpacked the food and grabbed some plates and utensils. When he stepped back out he wore a simple pair of sweats and nothing else. She gazed at his torso looking at each scar she could see. She shook her head and snapped out of it before he caught her.

The two of them made their plates, and quietly ate at his table. She was about halfway through when her eyes stopped on the scar that was on his left shoulder. She tried to think back to when she felt pain from that area, thinking it was from his time in the marines.

Billy noticed her staring and said quietly, “It was from when I was a kid. You keep asking me questions about my childhood and I know you’ve noticed that I don’t ever answer them. I was abandoned as a baby, went through the foster system. I was uh… about 10… maybe 11 when it happened. When a grown man calls you pretty, you know nothing good is going to come from it. I was able to fight back but he was able to break my arm and ripped my rotator cuff in 3 places.”

She felt her heart breaking, “I remember that. I remember crying and freaking out. My parents had no clue what to do, especially when physically there was nothing wrong. I was hoping it was something like… you were being like any normal boy and like skateboarding and a trick went wrong or something. Please tell me that bastard was arrested?’

“Yeah. One of the other boys that he uhh… he attacked spoke up about it. It’s one of those things I don’t like talking about a lot, but I figured you should know since… yeah,” His sentence trailed off and he stared blankly ahead of him.

London quietly stood up, moving over to him; she tapped his arm, motioning for him to lean back. He does as she asks, looking up at her curiously. She straddled his hips, as she took a seat in his lap. She bends her head down slightly, pressing small kisses to the scar that was on his shoulder.

Billy tensed for a moment before relaxing as he realized what she was doing. He gently lifted her head back up, gazing into her eyes before capturing her lips in a soft kiss.

She gasped against his lips, before returning the kiss, and deepening it with a soft moan. The two of them had kissed before but this felt…different. Their other kisses had been short and sweet. This… this was passion and intensity.

When they pulled away, trying to catch their breathes, Billy whispered to her, “Hold onto me.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, as his hands grasped her thighs lifting her as he stood up. He carried her over to his bed, laying her down as he crawled on top of her.

They kissed again, tugging each other’s clothes off haphazardly. He pulled back, his eyes looking to see if there was any hesitation, any doubt. Upon finding none he kissed her again, his hands exploring her body.

They spent that night learning about each other’s bodies, looking over scars, finding spots that drove each other crazy. It was in the late hours of the night when the two of them were finally spent, curling around each other as they fell into a comfortable sleep.

So comfortable in fact that Billy slept through his alarm and didn’t hear his phone going off. He did, however, hear Frank burst into his apartment shouting his name.

Billy jerked awake, reaching for his knife that he kept under his pillow, brandishing it protectively in front of him and London. She woke up to the shouts, grabbing the covers, as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“Frank. I gave you that key for EMERGENCIES. Is this an emergency?” Billy asked, anger seeping into his voice as he realize it wasn’t an intruder but his best friend.

“You’re 2 hours late for work. Won’t answer your phone or texts. Forgive me for worrying that something was wrong, ye who is a stickler for being on time,” Frank explained glancing at the woman in Billy’s bed.

“Well, as you can see I’m alive. Now, can you please… go out to the living room so we can get dressed? Pretty sure my girl would feel a bit more comfortable with something other than my bedsheets covering her,” Billy prompted him with a pointed look.

Frank raised an eyebrow at that and stepped back into the living room.

Billy returned the knife to its original place, before looking over at his soulmate.

“Sorry about that, you okay?” His voice was soft and full of concern.

“Honestly, confused as hell. But yes, I’m okay. Do all of your friends do that? Or is it really that abnormal for you to sleep in?” She asked him still not fully awake.

“Not really one for sleeping in, even if I was with a girl. Apparently, you exhausted me last night,” Billy teased her with a smirk.

“Me? You were the one who was insatiable sir,” She teased back, kissing him.

“No idea what you are talking about,” He muttered against her lips, his smirk growing.

They kissed for a few minutes, before getting out of bed. She groaned softly as she stood, feeling a bit sore in between her legs.

She could practically hear his smugness as she told him to shut it.

They dressed and stepped out of the bedroom, seeing Frank leaning against the island in the kitchen.

Introductions were made, as this was the first time Frank ever officially met her. Frank left soon after, telling Billy to be there for the 2pm meeting.

Billy waves him off, and once Billy was ready for the day, he gave London a lift home before going to work.

After that night, their relationship became much more intimate. Billy did eventually introduce her to all of his friends, and she did the same. It felt strange to be in a relationship. A good kind of strange. Especially when she would still write little dumb jokes on her arms for him to see after a meeting.

Several months passed and before he knew it a year was coming up. However, he had no anxiety about it, since she had already informed him that she wasn’t leaving, not unless he came with. As the end of her lease came up, he asked her a semi-important question.

“Do you want to move in with me? We could… get a bigger place together. Maybe find a place where you can create your own darkroom instead of having to-” His sentence was cutoff by her suddenly kissing him.

When she pulled away he asked, “I take it that’s a yes?”

She nodded her head enthusiastically, kissing him again.

If someone told him a year ago that he would one day be moving into a townhouse with his soulmate, he would say they were crazy. Completely out of their minds.

Here he was though, moving into a 3-bedroom townhouse, with a beautiful woman who made him genuinely laugh and felt loved.

‘Well. That’s one tough question down. Here’s to hoping she’ll say yes to the next big question I ask her.’

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #bbficexchange2021