#and says if billie comes with her then she can keep her powers and in a moment of worry billie makes the split decision to go with her

[cherry-treelane]

There's something so poetic about how El is the centre of all the chaos, wanted by the government and military and Mike is her strong calm that doesn't hesitate to get sucked into her storm and stand by her side in the face of any conflict. Like guys. This little boy did not hesitate to protect her and stand off in the face of the government to defend her, going against all the typical patriotic rule-following norms of an American Suburbanite Middle class nuclear family. He comes from pure safe normalcy but doesn't hesitate to run in the other direction heading towards chaos and danger if it means she's there... because he feels safest with her and is driven by the instinct to protect her. 😭🩷 There's something so beautiful and inspiring about someone as hurt and troubled and chaotic as El being loved in such a simple, unconditional way. Mike doesn't see her for the chaos she represents which surrounds her, he sees her for the innocent goodness that she actually is— her calm, gentle demeanour and the warmth it makes him feel. He understands that all the danger that comes with being with her is through no fault of her own, and actively works to help combat all the forces against her. He knows that despite being the centre of the chaos she's not the cause of it, she's the remedy for the effect of it and that is an undeserved, exhausting punishment yet a burden she bears regardless without complaint— a sign of her innate goodness which Mike recognises and loves her for all the more. Even moreso, he works to share that burden with her and criticise it because he sees how innocent and undeserving she is of the responsibility infringed upon her. His willingness to take all of this on is so wholesome and exactly the kind of sweet effort-full love that a character like El deserves, which is so gratifying for the audience to see.

[ballinandcantgetup452]

I'm really fond of Billy Batson being like the 4th or 5th superhero to debut. Like, he pops up RIGHT after the trinity pops up. I think it's a prime chance to see essentially a newly reborn DCU through a child's eyes. Not in like the New Frontier "Wow! Look at all of these guys!" way (not to knock that, it's still great when moments like that do happen). But in the "everybody is green enough that the idea that this grown man is acting like an 11 year old is extremely suspect" kind of way.

Every member of the trinity has generally the same reaction.

Clark is much more of a "this is the only other person who will TALK to me... BUT he's also probably autistic". Where he's cordial and kind to Billy but also keeps his distance. He's a country bumpkin, and as an autistic person who's ALSO a country bumpkin, I can bet that he'd use the signature "be kind at a distance and let him work it out himself" strategy that I most often see used. Not to say that Clark is going to be a jerk about it. He just knows that he's not qualified to help and since he's an adult he can take care of himself.

Bruce ALSO assumes that Billy is autistic. Especially since the first time he even MEETS Captain Marvel is when he's interrupted on a stakeout. I always envisioned a Year 2 Bruce not being cruel to strangers, but also not being nice either. He just kind of ignores him until eventually he calls Captain Marvel over to whatever he's doing and explains what's going on. Bruce is the kindest to Billy, even if it's not as overt as Clark's.

On theme, Diana ALSO assumes that Billy is autistic after meeting him. Of course, she assumes that after somebody explains the concept of autism to her after explaining how something's just off with "that guy". She's not fond of the fact that some asshole is using the power of old gods, but lets it slide because she doesn't know how to confront that and can tell that the conversation and confrontation with him simply isn't worth it. She's a whole lot more proper and Billy finds her nice and all, but a little bit too grown up for his taste.

Billy isn't a founding member or anything, but once he is indicted, each member of the trinity keeps an eye out on him. Batman doesn't find out that Billy is a LITERAL child until he's a couple of years in with Dick. So he just keeps the lie going. It's easier to tell somebody "he's autistic" instead of "he's a 12 year old swapping bodies with an adult deity"

Any other potential headcanons that can come with Billy Batson becoming the 4th or 5th or just a really early superhero?

[tryingonametaphor]

Why Will Byers?

An analysis and theory on why Henry/Vecna targeted Will first in season 1 and his plans for Will in season 5

‼️Contains The First Shadow (TFS) spoilers so please proceed with caution.‼️

This is going to be a little long but I’ve tried to give as much context as I can without actually being able to show snippets from the stage play. This is my interpretation of everything that went down as a member of the audience and not as someone who has read up any theories about TFS before. To understand why Henry took Will first in 1983, we have to start with -

Henry and Joyce

From all the times I’ve watched TFS, the one thing that has stuck with me is the final conversation Henry has with Joyce. It’s just before his last confrontation with Patty Newby and before he joins Brenner for good. Joyce is the last person (who doesn’t know about Henry’s powers) that he canonically talks to.

Throughout the entire play Joyce, Hopper, and Bob are investigating the animals dying at the hands of Henry and come to the conclusion that Victor Creel has been the one doing the killing. They get so close to solving the case. In her last conversation with Henry, Joyce tries to comfort him by saying that Victor will pay for his crimes - which makes Henry laugh because she’s so close yet so far from the truth. He gets a little frustrated and says something along the lines of “You don’t get it. But someday you will.” (edit 28/9: the exact dialogue is [Henry: you’re too nice. that is how they’ll get you. you have to learn to do anything you can to protect the ones you love] [Joyce: I don’t understand.] [Henry: You will.]) The next time we see Henry make a reappearance in Joyce’s life is during -

The Vanishing of Will Byers

Will is taken into the Upside Down (UD) by Henry. It’s not even a question anymore. All of the context clues from 1x1 lead us to believe that Will’s kidnapping was not by a demogorgon. Will - a 12 year old - miraculously survives a week in the upside down with no food or water. Will is even around the demogorgon a few times in the Upside Down. (Joyce communicating with Will through the lights and then the demogorgon coming after her immediately).

Barb dies the night she is taken but Will stays alive and also somehow manages to talk to Joyce through the wall. Joyce is led exactly to where Will was held at the end of s1 and he makes it out alive. It’s almost as if Henry knew all along that Joyce was the most capable of never giving up on finding her son. Like Henry took Will Byers because he was Joyce’s son. And like he was giving her just enough to know that Will was alive. Even when Joyce and Hopper find him at the end in a state of near death, he’s not injured by a creature. He was being prepared for the next stage of Vecna’s plan -

The Possession of Will Byers

The origins of Henry’s powers happen as such - As a kid, he is transported into the UD (originally coined Dimension X by the government) for a few hours because he touched something he wasn’t meant to touch. During his time in there, he came in contact with the Mind Flayer (MF). According to TFS this is the point in his life when he started getting “corrupted”. Brenner’s dad - who was one of the first people to enter dimension X - had mutated blood after but no powers. Henry was the first person to come in contact with the MF and it’s highly likely he got his powers because of this (This would also track considering how most of the party has been in the UD now but show no signs of having powers). The MF controls Henry for the rest of TFS and Henry grows more power hungry the more he kills.

In S2, Henry presumably sends the MF after Will - who has now had a year to heal from the events of 1983. Will is the only other person in all of ST to have had direct contact with the MF and survived it. Henry didn’t hesitate to kill Billy in S3, but he always gives everyone just enough to keep Will safe. Will himself tells Owens in S2 that the MF wants to kill everyone except him. Will once again survives the entire ordeal and is given a “break” for the next 2 seasons. Except I don’t believe he’s been just given a break. I think Will is -

Henry’s Sleeper Agent.

Ready to awaken in s5. I undoubtedly think that Will is going to have powers. And I don’t think they’re going to be the same as Henry and El. El and the other lab kids get their powers directly from Henry. Will’s powers will be directly from the MF like Henry. I believe this has been Henry’s plan all along and it’s further affirmed by what he tells Will in the recent VR game. That Will will be the key to Henry being able to infiltrate his friends’ minds. Jamie Campbell-Bower also mentioned during the S4 press that to get in character, he set up a display with all of Henry’s victims and targets’ faces on his wall(?), and Will was in the center.

Henry is going to use his connection with Will sneakily and midway through S5 he’s going to awaken Will’s powers (maybe in ep4 - which is said to be titled ‘Sorcerer’ and has young Will in it). Henry is going to try and manipulate his way into making an ally out of Will, and it’s not going to work because -

Will is the Perfect Character Foil.

Will is everything Henry could have been if he had a better support system. He is the perfect character foil. Unlike Henry, Will has a mother who loves him unconditionally and more importantly, believes him. Unlike Henry, the person who Will loves the most (the Patty to Will’s Henry: Mike) is going to love him back and stay by his side all season. No one is going to force them to be apart the way Henry was told to stay away from Patty. Will is not going to be easily swayed even though Henry has spent years crafting him into the perfect soldier. Sure, Henry has seen him heartbroken and sad, but that comes nowhere near to the amount of love and support Will is going to get from his people next season. And they’re going to quite literally defeat Vecna with the power of love and friendship. After that, Will Byers is getting the happy ending that Henry could have gotten.

[bookshelf-dust]

stubborn

billy hargrove x fem!reader

gif by @hawkinsboys

word count: 2,970

warnings: swearing, a couple sexualish comments, mechanic!billy, enemies to lovers type beat, set post-college

synopsis: working with billy hargrove is the bane of your existence. you can’t stand him. can’t stand how gorgeous he is. or that he might not be the bad guy you thought he was.

a/n: hi lovelies!! it’s been forever since i wrote for billy—most of which is due to focusing on school and all the writing i do for that, but also i just hadn’t had any good ideas for him. but alas, this one came to me, and i think it turned out pretty cute. let me know what you think!! lets yap about him!!! ♥️

————

“Nah, you’re all good, Mrs. Peterson.” 

Billy says your name, amiably walking the elderly woman up to the front desk with one hand hovering behind her in case she needs to be steadied. “She’ll take care of you, and if you need anything else you can give us a call.” 

Mrs. Peterson grins, patting the skin on Billy’s forearm. She slips him a butterscotch candy. You cringe when he winks and pulls the plastic wrapping away, popping the treat in his mouth. He hates butterscotch, but he eats it whenever Mrs. Peterson comes in to get her oil changed because she always gives him something to snack on. 

Fucking kiss-ass, you think. 

“Thank you, sweetie.” Her gaze shifts to you as she settles her pocketbook on the countertop and begins digging around inside. “Nice boy, that one. Makes me happy to see that boys are still being raised properly.” She rubs her chest.

Her glasses slide down the bridge of her nose. “If I were you, young lady, I’d be sure to snatch up a man that well-rounded before it’s too late.”

Your palms go all sweaty just as the cash drawer opens. If only she knew. You start counting out her change. “Mrs. Peterson, Billy and I are just coworkers. Besides, I’m not really his type.”

The woman sighs. “What’s all this about types? If you like someone, you like them. You kids make things much too complicated nowadays.”

“Tell me about it,” you mutter under your breath. You watch as Mrs. Peterson grabs a mint from the counter on her way out. 

A quick glance at the clock has you rolling your eyes. It’s just you and Billy on shift today, no buffer between you to keep the peace, or at least prevent you from having to look at him for too long. You don’t have another appointment for close to two hours. Your nails tap against the vinyl tabletop. There’s a Dr. Pepper you left in the back of the fridge—maybe that’ll help you power through. 

You turn around and your entire body jolts. “Jesus fuck!”

Billy laughs. “Sorry, sugar. Figured you heard me walk over.”

���I was too busy thinking of how I could avoid you until our next appointment gets here.”

He crosses his arms and leans up against the doorframe. He’s so stupidly attractive when he does that that it makes you want to knee him in the balls. “How sweet. Anyway, I’m gonna go pick up lunch. You want me to get you somethin’?”

“I’m good.”

You start towards the break room. Billy steps to the side and blocks your path. “I’m going to that sandwich place up the street. What do you want?”

You duck below Billy’s arm. He just lowers it so you can’t get around him. 

“I said I’m good.”

Billy’s gaze drops to your mouth and back up to your eyes. He takes a step closer to you, enough so that you can smell his cologne. You tell him at least once a week that you hate it, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t cherished the way it lingers after he leaves a room. 

“And I asked what you want. You didn’t bring lunch.”

You scoff. “How the fuck would you know that?” You raise your hands, gesturing with them as you fuss at him. 

“Because every morning you come in here with all those fuckin’ bags and you were missing one. Probably because you were late.”

“Oh, right, because I can control when my car won’t start and then there’s an accident on the freeway!” 

Billy’s arms drop. “Your car wouldn’t start?”

“Go get your lunch, Billy.”

He keeps his eyes on yours when he snatches his keys off the hook under the front desk. “You want a pickle today or no?”

“Oh my god, Billy!” 

You practically shove him out the front door and then flip the welcome sign to say Be Back Soon! He blows a kiss at you from the driver's seat of his car. You flip him off in return and just know he’s laughing when he pulls out of the parking lot.

When he gets back, you’re chugging your Dr. Pepper. For a moment, you’d been scared that one of the other mechanics on shift the past few days would’ve taken it, especially because you forgot to write your initials on the cap. 

It bothers you that Billy realized you’d forgotten to pack lunch. It bothers you that he knows what time you get to work. It bothers you that he could tell you’re hungry. But at the same time, knowing that he pays enough attention to you to know those things—it sends a startling recognition down your throat. Your shoulders stiffen.

You like that he knows those things. And you hate it, because he is the last person you want to feel any attraction towards. 

You inhale through your nose and hold your eyes closed for a few seconds before you exhale. You’re not going to think about that right now. 

You make your way back to the front of the shop. A frown forms on your face when you see that Billy has set up on your desk, housing his lunch. There’s a matching sandwich across from him. 

“Jesus, Billy, I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

His throat works as he swallows. Your eyes drag down the length of his neck, all thick veins and lustrous skin. 

“And I told you I don’t give a fuck. Eat.”

A spark of anger rises to the forefront of your thoughts. You want to tell him not to boss you around, but you pause, feeling like that will only make you sound like a petulant child. You might as well stomp your feet and squeal. 

You sit down on your stool with a huff. You look Billy in the eye and rip the paper covering your sandwich. “Fuck you.”

Billy sucks something off the tip of his thumb and laughs through his nose.

“Do you have to be such a priss all the time?” he asks. “Just accept when people do shit for you. Say thank you or somethin,’ even.”

“Don’t worry, I promise I save all my prissiness for you, Hargrove.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. Thank God for that.”

“What? I heard you talking up Mrs. Petersen earlier. Yes, ma’am. No ma’am. Of course ma’am. Do you need your feet rubbed, ma’am?”

“Funny.”

“You’re so good at wrapping everyone around your finger. It’s nauseating.”

“And you aren’t? You’d think you got some condition with how often you bat your eyelashes.”

“It’s called being nice? Customers are supposed to come back, not run screaming because one of you was a dick.”

Billy scoffs, shaking his styrofoam cup around. “That was quite literally one time.”

“You were a dick to that lady! She wrote a hate letter and copied it and then put it up outside the library and Benny’s and fuckin’ Melvald’s!”

“Oh, come on.” He says your name once more. There’s something about the way he says it that sends a shiver down your spine. It feels like he might as well be whispering it directly into your ear. “You know she was a total bitch! She kept asking me if I was old enough to be working here and telling me that my hair was a safety hazard and that I should cut it. Then, when she asked where I was from and I told her, she said, and I quote, ‘Hawkins used to be a nice place. You west coasters are killing all the mom and pops.’ What does that have to do with me?”

You’re silent for a minute. You absolutely know he’s right. But do you want to admit that? No.

“She’s kind of right about your hair though. You always forget to tie it up. Even I wor—notice it when you’re under a car and cringe.”

You hope Billy hasn’t caught your slip up, but by the look on his face, he totally has. A smirk plays on his lips. She worries about me, it says. Before the conversation can go any further, you grab hold of his wrist where it’d been resting on the counter. His brows raise in confusion, less from the fact that it’s random and more because you’ve literally never touched him before. 

He watches as you roll a hair tie off of your forearm and onto his. You give it a playful snap once it’s settled at the joint of his wrist. “There,” you say. “No more excuses now, Hargrove. And thanks for the sandwich.”

He never noticed you take it, but when he snaps out of his daze brought on watching your hips sway as you walk away, it’s gone from where he left it.

————

Billy is worried. It’s past the time you could be even remotely late to work. You’re not there. You’re not at work.

He doesn’t second guess himself when he looks you up in the book—never having been given your number—and dials. Straight to voicemail. What the fuck?

It’s unlike you to just not show up. Surely you would’ve called out if something happened. But Billy asked around, and no one else on shift has heard a thing.

The phone at the front desk rings. Normally, you’d be the one to answer, but you’re not here. Billy hastily picks it up. 

“Roane Park Automotive, this is Billy.”

“Billy!”

He says your name, along with a slew of other curses. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you here?”

“Um, about that. Do you remember when I mentioned that my car wouldn’t start?”

“You mean when I tried to talk to you about it and you brushed me off?”

“Save it. Anyway, it broke down this morning. I thought I could fix it myself but my knowledge is limited to what my dad taught me—which it turns out, isn’t much. I had someone try to help me jump it off, but that didn’t work either. So I walked—

“You walked?”

“Let me finish! I walked to the nearest pay phone and well, here we are.”

“Keep your pretty little ass right where it is. I’m coming to get you.” 

“It’s fine, really. I just need a tow, I guess? I don’t know. I can call someone else or—

“Hush. Give me a landmark or something—I still haven’t learned the names of these damn roads.”

When Billy gets to you, he swears his head is gonna explode. You’re sitting on the hood of your car, swinging your legs. Swinging your legs. You’re driving him insane. He thinks he could be truly mad at you if you didn’t look so damn cute while doing the most obnoxious thing you could be doing. 

He calls your name and you wave from your seat, quickly sliding down to meet him. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he huffs.

You guffaw. “Okay, wow. What ever happened to hello?”

Billy opens your driver's side door and presses the switch to unlatch your hood. He’s popping it within seconds. “I fuckin’ told you to let me look at your car. You had me worrying my ass off up there, thinking something happened to you—”

“You were worried about me?”

Billy glares at you, his hand somewhere within the depths of your car. You might work in a shop, but you don’t know a thing when it comes to cars. 

“You never listen. You know how infuriating that is?” 

Of course he’s avoiding the question. 

“Why do you expect me to listen to you, Hargrove?”

The sound of metal on metal makes you cringe. “I don’t know, maybe cuz it’s basic fuckin’ decency to listen to people trying to help you?”

“Yeah, well some people are just assholes and not worth listening to.”

Billy straightens so fast you’re worried he’s gonna hit his head. You hate the way your arm jolts, wanting to protect him from injury. 

“Who are you calling an asshole, princess?”

You cross your arms. “I think you know who,” you say. 

Billy steps into your space, slamming the hood of your car shut so hard it makes you blink. Now's as good a time as any, he thinks. 

“You gonna tell me what the fuck your problem is already or just keep prancing around me for the rest of our lives?”

You roll your eyes. It infuriates him. “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit!”

“You’re just a prick, okay? You always have been! Ever since you showed up in Hawkins. You have this—this God complex!”

Billy has the nerve to laugh. Fully tosses his head back and laughs, slapping the side of your car. 

“So what, you went to school with me for a couple years and now we work together and you think you know me?”

“I know your kind, Billy! You’re all the fucking same!”

If possible, he gets even closer to you. “And what’s my kind, sweetheart?” 

“Oh, I think you know. Maybe we only went to high school together our last year, but this town is fucking small! I couldn’t escape you in college, even after I changed my major. You act like your shit doesn’t stink, Billy.”

He laughs again. 

“You listen to your loud music and there’s always a new mark on your neck, a new girl on your arm—usually the skinniest, bleach blonde girl—and you never spare anyone a glance if they’re not up to your standards. That I know. I wasn’t a cheerleader in high school and I wasn’t begging to suck your dick and I sure as hell didn’t fall for your reformed bad boy shit in college! You’re just another gorgeous guy who’s an absolute asshole.”

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Billy asks. He crosses his arms, mimicking you. It makes you want to slap him. Maybe kiss him stupid. 

“Oh, fuck off! That’s exactly what I mean! It’s all about reputation with guys like you, about notches on your belt or how many people you need to stomp on before people start calling you a king.”

When Billy reaches out to straighten your shirtsleeve from where it’s folded in on itself, you don’t flinch or even think about punching him. 

“I’m not a tyrant, babe. And have you ever, for just a second, considered that all that shit was a defense mechanism? Or does that not fit the bill you’ve got written up in that pretty little head of yours?”

You don’t say anything. Billy can see your brain recalculating.

Finally, “I don’t think being a prick calls for a healthy defense mechanism. Ever heard of therapy? Or like, fucking running? Or I don’t know! It’s always the pretty ones who are jack—”

Billy shuts you up the only way he can think to. The only way he’s wanted to for months. He kisses you. And he’s good at it. You start to lose yourself in it before the intelligent part of your brain sends alarm signals to the rest of you, making you pull away. One look at Billy has your knees going weak. 

His lips are swollen and this deep pink color that makes them look more enticing, if that’s even possible. His pupils are blown and the weight of his hand on the back of your neck is hypnotizing. 

“What?” he questions. You both just stare at each other for a moment. You smack him on the arm. It’s the only thing you could think to do. Billy looks down at his arm, his brows knitting together, and then back up at you. There’s the start of a grin on his face. 

He lets out an oomph sound when you grab his shirt collar and yank his mouth back to yours. He’s smiling into the kiss, letting out these little breathy laughs against your lips and when he slides a hand down your spine you swear you don’t know how you’ve lived your life thus far without knowing what it felt like to kiss Billy Hargrove. 

You kiss him hard, enough to express that you’re head over heels for him and can’t even find it in yourself to be angry about it. You pull away and take a few steps back. 

Billy is watching you, trying to figure out what your next move will be. He reaches out and swipes his thumb against the corner of your mouth. 

In an effort to put off discussing the fact that you just made out on the side of the road, you try to finish your argument from moments before. 

“You really did used to be an asshole, Billy. I couldn’t stand being around you, seeing how you treated everyone—I don’t know.”

Billy shakes his head. “No, you’re right. I was an asshole. But what I said about it being a defense mechanism was true. A shitty life made a shitty guy, you know? I’d hope you could tell that I’m not that guy anymore now, but clearly I still get under your skin.”

“It’s easier to fight with you than admit you can be that gorgeous and not a total dick and also that you can be those things and like me at the same time.”

Billy laughs lowly and steps back into your space. “I can do all that and more, pretty girl. Let me prove it to you.”

You let Billy kiss you again, slower this time. “I’ll think about it,” you say. Neither of you say anything for a moment. 

Billy chuckles under his breath. “Reformed bad boy.”

You swat him on the arm. “Leave me alone!” You giggle. 

“Your alternator’s fucked, by the way.”

You blink. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. Come on. Get your ass in the car. You can fuss at me some more on the way back to the shop.”

“As long as you kiss me to shut me up again.”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[zomquette]

Let Em' Dream

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader

Genre: Protective Daryl / established relationship / Angst & Comfort / Survival Tension / Flirty Banter

Warnings: Language, tense power dynamics, creepy men (Claimers, ew), implied past trauma, protective behavior, mild violence, emotional vulnerability, implied sexy vibes but no smut.

Summary: You and Daryl joined the Claimers for safety. That safety came with a price. Leers, comments, tension you can cut with a knife. But you’re not weak—and you’re not alone. Daryl’s love language might be grunts and glares, but when it comes to keeping you safe, he’s louder than words.

Era: Post-Prison / Pre-Terminus

Long-ass Author’s Note: I really wanted to write a fic involving the Claimers because… well, no one really does. And when they do, it’s often the same tired formula: the reader is heavily objectified, used as a plot device to elevate the male character or trigger protective instincts. That kind of storytelling not only feels lazy but can be genuinely harmful. It reduces women to props for drama and reinforces the idea that being mistreated is somehow part of the fantasy. That’s not what I wanted here.

I know—it’s just a fic. A silly little story. But even in these kinds of spaces, the way we write about objectification and misogyny matters. I didn’t want to center the reader’s value in how much pain she could endure or how much she needed saving. I wanted her to be capable, complex, angry, soft, and human. And yeah, I couldn’t resist adding a bit of fluff at the end too. Sue me.

On a more personal note, this fic hit close to home. The kind of treatment the reader faces here—subtle, persistent, exhausting—is something I (and so many other women and girls) know all too well. It’s isolating. It makes you second-guess your own instincts. And sometimes, you forget that it’s not your fault. I wish someone had told me that earlier. So if you’re reading this and any of it resonates—please know you’re not alone. None of this is okay, and it never was.

Anyway, I’ll shut up now. Hope you enjoy. :)

**************************************************************

It was the kind of cold that settled in your teeth. Dry air, dry land. Smoke from a cooking fire clung to your jacket like something alive, and every step crunched like bone underfoot.

You stayed close to the tree line while Daryl walked ahead, crossbow slung low on his back, posture half-feral. The others trailed nearby—Joe, Len, Billy, and whatever stragglers they'd picked up since the last camp. The Claimers. They called themselves that with pride, like they weren't just scavengers with vocabulary.

They weren’t so bad at first. Talkative. Friendly. The kind of friendliness that came with teeth.

You and Daryl joined up a few days ago. Not by choice - not really. You needed the strength in numbers if you guys wanted to sleep at night without two eyes open. It was simply smarter to travel in groups, or at least that's what you kept telling yourself. The rules were simple: don’t take what’s been claimed, and don’t walk away.

That last one was never spoken aloud. But you could feel it, like being circled by wolves that hadn’t decided whether to bare their teeth. This was only temporary. This first chance we get we are hightailing it and we never see these assfucks again. You could only dream of that moment for now.

The nights were the worst. You always woke up before sunrise, not from noise, but from the quiet. The wrong kind. Like someone holding their breath near your ear.

You felt eyes on you. Not Daryl’s. His, you were used to. His gaze was steady, grounding, always followed by the warmth of his palm finding yours under the blanket.

No, the others were different.

Joe had a habit of watching too long and saying too little when it came to you. Always quiet, always smiling, always sitting just close enough to be noticed. Len, on the other hand, didn't hide his thoughts. He'd whistle when you walked by, crack jokes about "needing a good woman to stick around." The worst was Billy, who once asked if Daryl "shared well."

You laughed it off, quickly stepping in front of Daryl so he wouldn't tear the guy's eyes out. Sure, that would be fun to watch, but two against eight weren't odds you would gamble on. Besides, you knew that was what they wanted; to see you snap - that would be like stepping into a trap. And at this rate, Daryl would be at his breaking point sooner or later.

But every word, every look, chipped away at your reserve. You started wearing Daryl's clothes over your own, stopped washing your hair so often, and kept your gun closer than usual. You felt like you were betraying yourself, smothering who you were to appease others. This wasn't you; cowering under others' stares while you shrug your hood over your face. No, you would think let em' dream while you strutted by them, swaying your hips like Shakira. And if someone did decide to be dumb and mouth off, you would show them why that was dumb - no need for scary boyfriend Daryl to shoo them away. Maybe everything really was weighing down on you; the loss of the prison, of Hershel, of your group, of… Beth. Maybe that person was left behind at the prison, and here you were left trying to scramble for the pieces, rithing at how vulnerable you felt… it made you sick with fury.

And Daryl felt it, too.

He noticed the change in you. The way your body tensed when someone said your name. The way you touched his arm a second longer when someone else was near. He didn’t need you to say it out loud. He didn’t need to see it happen. He knew, and it twisted something in him.

He wasn’t used to this—to feeling this much. He didn’t always have the words for it, didn’t even always understand it himself. But when it came to you, it showed up in the way he watched. The way he kept near and his eyes stayed on the backs of men too long, like he was calculating angles.

He knew you could handle yourself. Had seen it. Trusted it. That wasn’t why he hovered. It was because his body didn’t know how not to. Because loving you made his instincts loud, louder than they’d ever been. Protection wasn’t a comment on your strength. It was a confession of his. That he couldn’t bear to lose the one thing that made this hell of a world feel like something worth enduring.

The air of your camp for the night had the taste of rust and smoke, thick with campfire. A good place as any - being in the woods was better than out in the open on the road. You excused yourself quietly, weaving through the abandoned, rusty cars that some of the guys had settled into, and stepped over the metal wiresu descended into the woods for some privacy surrounding the makeshift camp, which created a perimeter as yo. Daryl watched you go with a look that said everything—be quick, be careful, be back. 

You felt him before you heard him. Len.

The crunch of leaves behind you was too heavy, definitely intentional. You slowed after a few minutes of walking, every nerve on alert, gaze sweeping the shadows. It was a full moon tonight, silver light catching on the blade at your belt. At least you weren't caught with your pants down. 

“Didn’t think we were doin’ shifts,” you called out flatly, not turning around.

He chuckled behind you, smug and slow. “Just makin’ sure a lady like yourself doesn’t get turned around. It’s dangerous out here.”

You turned. Not startled. Not shaken. Just done. So done with this bullshit. The apocalypse was so effective in wiping out most of the population, why couldn't it have included the entitled pricks like shit-for-brains here?

Len had his thumbs hooked in his belt loops like he owned the night air itself. You stood your ground, arms crossed, weight shifted to one hip.

“You got about three seconds to turn around and walk back to camp," you said, voice cold. "Or I start making souvenirs outta your fingers."

He smiled, eyebrows raising, taking a step closer.

"Oooh," he drawled. "Small thing talks a big game."

"You'd be surprised what a small thing like me can do with such a small tool,” you shot back, taking out your knife to admire it. “Course you know all about that, don't ya, Lenny?”

“C’mon now,” he said, mock-wounded. “We've been travelling companions together, ain’t we? Breakin’ bread, sharin’ fire. That’s gotta mean somethin’.”

“Oh sure. It means i havent slit your throat yet,” you replied, flashing your dazzling smile and twirling your knife.

He didn’t laugh this time.

You saw it then—the flicker of frustration. The way men like him hate being reminded they’re not owed anything. Especially not you.

He moved fast, hand going to your arm.

Your knife was faster. Your leg shot out and swept his leg from under him when it came into contact with the back of his, making him take a knee. It happened so fast, he went from reaching for your arm to now kneeling with you behind him. Oh, and the small tool you mentioned earlier was now pressed against his neck so harshly it was like you were going to peel his skin off like a potato.

“Try that again,” you say quietly into his ears, sending shivers down his spine. “I dare you.”

He blinked, neck taut against the blade, and for the first time, Len looked small.

“I ain’t lookin’ for trouble,” he muttered.

“No?” you snapped, voice going slightly higher, effectively taunting him with the situation he was in. A chick has you by the throat, gonna cry bitch boy? “Well then, don’t go sniffin’ where you’re not wanted. I ain't a prize, and I sure as hell ain’t yours.”

You pressed the knife just enough to nick the skin, drawing some blood. A sweet reminder for later.

Then you stepped back, shoving him into the dirt to tower above him.

“And you can go ahead and tell your little buddies that, too. You want someone to own get a damn dog.”

Len didn’t speak. Didn’t move. He just lay there, butt hurt trying to process what just happened, lips thin, pride in tatters.

You walked away first, and you didn’t look back. And for the first time in a while, when turning in for the night, you didn't feel like you had something weighing on your chest.

______________________________________________________

The car creaked gently as the wind rocked it. Daryl’s arms had settled heavily around your shoulders, spooning you in the backseat, one hand tracing slow lines along your arm. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t peaceful either. It hovered, like both of you were trying to name something you’d carried too long.

You shifted against him, voice barely above the hum of cicadas. “It’s weird, y’know? The world ended, and for a while… men weren’t the main problem anymore. Just walkers. Just hunger. Then suddenly, it’s back. That same old look. The kind that makes your skin crawl.” 

Your eyes glued to the car ceiling, lost in thought. Part of you didn't wanna say these things to him. Wouldn't it just make him sad? It was one thing to feel completely helpless as a woman in a disgustingly testosterone environment; the last thing you needed was a pity party. But that wasn't how Daryl worked. “Makes you think… maybe it’s better to be hungry than desirable.” 

He didn’t speak right away. Just rubbed his thumb along your arm, like he could erase the tension coiled there.

“You think you’re past it,” you added, voice so quiet it was just short of a whisper. “Then someone stares too long, or gets too close, and it’s like muscle memory. You always watch for it, and the moment you catch on, everything just stops. And you think ‘how the fuck am i gonna get out of here?’ and that feeling hasnt left since we got stuck with these assholes”

Daryl didn’t need you to explain it — he’d already seen it in the way you were always on edge around the Claimers. And still, hearing it cracked something in him. It was one thing to know you were tense — it was another to know you were expecting it. Bracing for it like it was routine. You had to prepare yourself for the way men looked at you. The idea that those bastards had you scanning exits, holding your breath — that they got to live in your mind rent-free like that — it made him sick. You were the best thing in this goddamn world. Tough, loyal, quick as hell, and his — which he still had trouble wrapping his head around half the time. And still, they had the audacity to think about you like that. To make you feel like something to be claimed. He didn’t know how to carry that — didn’t know how to fix it — but he’d be damned if he let you carry it alone.

“Merle used to say somethin’,” he said finally, breaking the heavy silence. “Said, ‘Ain’t nobody gonna care for you but me.’ Like… that was supposed to be enough. Like givin’ a damn made you weak.”

You turned your body to look up at him slowly, your brow furrowed.

“I believed him,” Daryl admitted. “For a long time, I did. Thought the only way to survive was keepin’ your distance. Keepin’ everybody out.”

His hand moved from your arm to your back, warm and steady.

“But you… You make me wanna stay close. Make me wanna care. And I ain’t scared of that no more. Not if it means ya feel safe… Not if it means I can carry some of that for you.”

Your throat went tight—not because you were afraid, but because it was the first time in a long time that someone wanted to share the weight.

You leaned into him, letting your forehead find it’s place in the crook of his neck.

“I gotcha,” he murmured, rubbing your back. “Long as I’m breathin’, ain’t nobody layin’ a hand on ya.”

You huffed a soft laugh against his skin. “Kinda melodramatic, Dixon. ‘Ain’t nobody touchin ma woman ya hear?!’.” you mocked in a hushed voice, face scrunching exactly like his signature scowl.

He grunted, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… you bring it outta me.” 

He hugged you tighter, his arms closing around your frame and locking you to him in the most wonderful way and kissed your head as he nuzzled into your hair. 

______________________________________________________

The morning air was crisp, tinged with dew and the fading smoke of last night’s fire. You wandered down to the creek with a change of clothes tucked under your arm and sleep still clinging to your bones. It was rare to be alone these days, but you needed a moment. The water was cold, biting at your fingers as you crouched by the edge and scrubbed the grime from your skin. You let out a slow breath, staring at your reflection. Jeez, I look like a Tim Burton character.

Behind you, Daryl lingered.

He was meant to be back at camp, but he stayed just a few metres away by a tree, crossbow slung on his shoulder, eyes never leaving your form. Watching, but not invading. There was a quiet reverence in the way he kept his distance. Not because he thought you needed protecting, but because he needed to know he was there if things went sideways.

And things almost did.

Two of the Claimers had peeled away from the group. They tiptoed away from them and made their way towards the creek. Towards you. Their faces dropped instantly when instead of finding you, they found a irratable redneck. One of them let out a short laugh that didn’t reach his eyes, and Daryl’s stance shifted.

“You best turn around,” he said before they got too close.

The two men froze. One of them — a lanky guy with a toothpick — tried to play it off with a smirk.

“We ain’t doin’ nothin’,” he said, face blank.

“Didn’t ask what you were doin’. I said turn around.”

The tension stretched thin as fishing wire.

The bigger of the two men — the one with the beer-can crush of a face — squared his shoulders like he thought he had something to prove. “You always this twitchy, Dixon? She’s just takin’ a bath.”

Daryl stepped forward. “And you’re just about ready to take bolt to the ass. So, unless you wanna get an extra hole, I suggest you walk.”

That did it. They backed off, muttering curses under their breath, but Daryl didn’t move until the last boot crunched out of sight.

You walked back over, hair dripping and a towel hanging off your shoulder, oblivious to the tension that had just slunk off into the trees.

Daryl was leaned against a tree like he’d been relaxing the whole damn time — one foot crossed over the other, arms folded, face like stone.

“Everything alright?” you chirped, side-eyeing him as you wrung water from your ends.

“Uh huh,” he said, nodding once. “Just enjoyin’ the view.”

You paused. “…The creek?”

He smirked, eyes skating over your figure. “Among other things.”

You narrowed your eyes, smiling as you stalked towards him. “That right?”

“Mhmm,” he muttered, straightening up. “Nature’s real pretty this time of mornin’.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, shaking your head. Then — crack — you snapped the towel against his thigh with a mischievous grin.

He jerked back. “The hell, woman?!”

“That’s for being a creep,” you laughed, already backing up.

He lunged like he might chase you, but you squealed and darted ahead. “Don’t start nothin’ you can’t finish-” he hollered after you, boots thudding in pursuit.

You glanced back with a grin. “Baby, I finish everything I start. You of all people should know that”

“Don’t go bringin’ that up unless you’re plannin’ on finishin’ somethin’ right now.”  He closed in on you, shoulders now relaxed. “cmon, I'm hungry for breakfast.” He motioned for you to walk beside him, playfully patting your ass to move, which of course earned him a scowl from you. "You better be talking about game, Dixon. I ain't servin' up anything else." You looked over to him to see his face, now sporting a cunning smile, and that look in his eyes which you only saw when you guys were alone. You dropped your head in disbelief, a big smile growing on your face as you whipped him with your towel again. "keep dreamin' Dixon."

The earlier tension was now forgotten, or at least tucked behind the sly grin he wore only for you.

**************************************************************

Let me know what you think 🥴🤭

[cakypa120]

Better, it's not only the Shazamfamily that is hyperfixeted in epic, the gods too, Zeus appears and sing "MY SON I'M FINALLY HOME" for Diana and de Shazamfamily, or some greek monsters attack and there's Shazamfamily singing a song the monster knows too...

The rest of the league thinks it's a god/monster thing that appeared after Diana left her island.

Epic has become popular. Even among the Gods and other beings.

Diana and Shazamily were in the Watchtower. They were at a game meeting to rally the members of the Marvel Family and the Justice League. Suddenly, the door opens. There stands a man who can destroy mountains. Diana immediately turns pale.

Zeus: I can only wonder what your world has been things you've had to suffer, and the strength you hold within

Diana: What is he saying?

Billy and Freddy: Oh...

Zeus: All I've ever wanted was to reunite with my own. Twenty years, we've wandered, but today you're not alone

Darla: I want to do it! I want to do it!

Zeus: My children, I'm finally home!!

Darla: *runs and hugs God*

Diana: *readies sword for harakiri*

Eugene: *stops Amazon from doing it*

The League: *tries not to pass out from all the divine power that's coming at them*

Superman: Mary Marvel, are you sure she's gonna help us?

Mary: Sure. She's a wonderful woman.

Flash: Didn't she turn people into pigs?

Mary: *shrugs*

Circe: Welcome to the best part of your lives!

Mary: Let's skip that part.

Circe: Okay(｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡)

Circe and Mary (in unison): I've got people to protect, friends I can't neglect, so now there is no turning back, you've made your one wrong move, now you're done for!!

Flash: What the...

Superman: I don't know...

Circe and Mary: Not even a spell saves you, 'cause you're done for, oh, you better run or soon you will be done for!!

Flash: I want to live.

Arthur: We're entering a siren zone. Be careful.

Pedro: It'll be all right.

Siren: M~m.

Dina: Is that her?

Siren: Don't you miss me?

Pedro: *leans on the side* More than you know.

Siren: Then jump in the water and kiss me.

Pedro: My love, I've told you this before, you know I'm afraid of the water.

Siren: I'll make sure that you are safe and sound. Come play with me and our daughter and let's watch our love leave the ground.

Pedro: My love, why? You know I'm too shy and terrified!

Siren and Pedro: *start laughing*

Siren: I won't keep you! *blows a kiss*

Pedro: Thank you! *winks*

Arthur: WHAT THE FUCK?!

[domxmarvel]

P*rnstar

Masterlist

Pairing: Billie eilish x Female!Reader

The work you do carried a heavy stigma but you didn't care,and the money more than made up for it. You had plenty of fans,mostly older rich men who had nothing better to spend their money on,but you also had plenty of women watching you. One in particular being very active,you'd see her username on almost every post you made.

One of your most loyal fans,you were getting ready for a new livestream. It was more casual,and of course the very first person there as usual her user name popped up.

Billiee00: "Hey baby" her message appeared on your screen. She usually either call you baby or pornstar.

"Hey,Billie" you said back,watching as other people joined the live.

Billiee00: "You look really pretty tonight" She kept her attention on you,commenting on your looks,your outfit and your surroundings. Clearly having a bit of a crush on you.

"Thank you" you subtly posed for her "I remember you told me you liked this makeup last time."

Billiee00: "That's why you're my fav" It was almost a challenge to see how well you paid attention to her,her messages and things she said. Maybe it was a little obsessive. Soon the viewers went from 156 to 680 making the comments flow in,her comments being drowned by the others. 

“Show a little more skin babe!”

“How did you start doing this stuff”

“Is this gonna get hot?”

“You look so hot” A few people asked how long the stream would go for,others giving you tips and advice. But most people were just horny,and most of the guys were trying to get your actual attention and keep you entertained. The sound of the tip notification rang out,with the name of the user who had sent you a tip. The top of the screen displaying the username and the amount. Most of them where small amounts,just 5-10 dollars or so from different users,since it was still early in the stream. But one of them was a 100 dollar tip,causing you to look down in surprise at the username.

Billiee00: "That was me,you look extra pretty in those next panties." It was only a few moments before more people tipped,a few people trying to out do her tip,but she just kept out tipping them. She wanted to be the top tipper. You appreciate her jealous and how she wanted all your attention,and you did also enjoy how it made you more money thanks to her. In the span of around 10 minutes,she had doubled the amount of the tips that you made. She loved seeing you so focused on her,like she was your main priority and everyone else was just an afterthought.

"I'll make this a bit more fun,five minutes and then my top tipper will get to pick what I wear for Wednesday's live" That grabbed peoples attention,even hers. The tip notifications where coming in at a rapid pace now,people wanting to be your top tipper so they could pick your outfit for the next stream. It was almost too fast to keep up with,people tipping hundreds at a time. Clearly they all wanted to be the ones to pick your outfit,it was like a competition to them,and of course she was going to win. There was about 10 seconds left on the timer and the highest tipper wasn't her,it was a guy who was currently sitting at 600$ but there were still seconds left. You counted out loud the remaining seconds."Five four three two one" and just as you said 'one' a notification rang out with her name,she had waited until the last second so no one could out tip her.

Billiee00: "What do you think of my last second surprise?” There it was,she'd tipped you 1000$. Now everyone knew she had the best tipping power,and if anyone wanted to prove her wrong they'd have to outdo her first.

"I'd say I owe you a private show for that"

Billiee00: "You'd do that for me?"

"Anything for my best client"

Billiee00: "When can we do it?"

“I'll send you a message and we can work it out,also think about what you want me to wear"

Billiee00: "I already know what I want you to wear." The chat was now filled with people being jealous. They had a good reason to be jealous,she was getting an actual private show from you,and in anything she wanted. Nothing they could tip or say would get them to that level with you. She was more than happy to let them know it too. Billiee00: "You all wish you were getting a private show"

You wrapped up the show and messaged Billie.

"What do you want me to wear?" You asked,wondering what she had in mind.

Billiee00: "Have you any fishnets? preferably in black"

"I have fishnets,what else?"

Billiee00: "How about a skirt,a really short one"

"And the top?"

Billiee00: "I'd like you to wear a crop top,I love it when you wear them" After you were dressed you set up your camera and started the show for her. Immediately she sent you a message. Billiee00: "I want to see you twirl around for me" You pushed your computer chair away and stood up,slowly twirling to show off the outfit. Billiee00: "You look so amazing in that,I knew I picked well."

"You always do," You said,sitting back down.

Billiee00: "Can I request something else?"

"Anything for me favorite subscriber"

Hours later you messaged her.

"By the way,you still have to think about what you want me to wear for Wednesday's stream. You still won that after all." You reminded her.

Billiee00: "I've actually already decided"

"Does it have something to do with the package I received?"

Billiee00: "You already got it? It was quick,I figured it would take a few days"

"I haven't opened it yet but I'll unbox it on Wednesday”

Billiee00: "You have to promise to open it on stream then,I want to see you wearing it as soon as possible"

"I promise"

On Wednesday you started the stream,watching the comments flood in. Many comments were being flooded,all of them tipping and asking for different things. Some were even asking about things you had done in the private stream. But her comments still caught your eye. She had tipped you a few times already,but the amount she was tipping was much more than the other people. She wanted to be noticed and make sure everyone knew that you were her favourite to tip and that she was the one who got a private show.

"Yes,Billie I see you" you knew she was trying to get your attention. "You got my attention"

Billiee00: "Of course I want your attention,baby" You held up the box,talking to the camera.

"I got your package and I'll open it on camera like you asked." You opened it to find a pair of lace panties and an oversized shirt. The panties were new but the shirt had been worn and smelled of perfume. It was her shirt,that's what she wanted you to wear. As you took out the piece of fabric,it was obvious it was hers. The lingering scent of the perfume was sweet,and it was easy to tell that it was hers,it was just like she was there in the room with you.

Billiee00: "You like my little gift?"

"Of course when you get the choice it's not something scandalous,it's just your shirt" You chuckled.

Billiee00: "Take the shirt,take it and put it on" Her name popped up along with another notification $200

"Of course I'm gonna wear it" You stripped on camera,slowly putting on a show. She was throwing tips and comments rapidly your way.

Billiee00: "Keep going,baby I want to see more."  $300

Billiee00: "Mmm,my favourite little show girl. Looking so beautiful for me."  $150

Billiee00: "You look so sexy in it, my baby"  $400

Billiee00: "You look amazing in my shirt. So beautiful and just for me"  $350

"Slow down there,don't want you running out of money" You winked,putting on her shirt,you knew that wasn’t a fear and you just wanted to tease.

Billiee00: "Don't worry about me running out of money,just let me tip you all I want,my baby "  $1500

Billiee00: "my little pornstar,in my shirt"

She began to use the other name again,the one she used when she was possessive. She wanted to make sure you knew exactly who you belonged to and no one could do anything about it.

"Really showing off today aren't you,Billie?"

Billiee00: "Of course I am,baby."

"Making me wear your shirt and taking all my attention" you smirked.

Billiee00: "Do you like wearing my shirt,baby?"

"Maybe,your perfume is nice" you took a whiff from her shirt. "Which perfume is that?" You asked her.

Billiee00: "I can send you a bottle if you'd like"

"Jumping at the chance to spoil me,huh?"

Billiee00: "I love to spoil you,that's what I do best." Spoiling you is her favorite thing to do,and she's not shy to spend any amount of money on you.

Billiee00: "I'll send you a whole bottle of the perfume I wear,baby. So you can always smell like me." Her next comments were all attached to tips.

Billiee00: $600 "I want you so badly,baby"

Billiee00: $300 "I can't keep my eyes off of you"

Billiee00: $500 "You look so perfect, my show girl"

Billiee00: $250 "I love seeing you in my shirt,baby"

Billiee00: $300 "My favorite little show girl"

"Hold on,Billie. Let me plug my toy and connect it to your tips" Despite your telling her to slow down and wait she didn't stop. 

Billiee00: $900 "You're so addictive, my show girl"

Billiee00: $700 "I can't stop tipping, baby"

Billiee00: $400 "God you look so amazing in that shirt"

Billiee00: $300 "You know exactly what you're doing to me,my baby" You set up your toy and connected it to her tips.

"It's set up for you,it'll vibrate when you send me tips," You arched your back,softly moaning as she continued not holding back at all. Your moans turned louder. She kept tipping, sending the toy into another fit of fast and strong buzzing. "Yes,yes Billie" you moaned out,knowing it could drive her crazy.

Billiee00: "Baby say my name, say my name, say it. Only my name,not anyone else,just my name" You repeated her name over and over until you reached your peak. She hasn't slowed down.

Billiee00: "Keep saying my name,I want more."

She had lost count of how much she had tipped, but it didn't matter to her. She was completely entranced.

She didn't slow down when you finally reached your peak,she was in control and wanted to keep the vibrations going as much as possible,hearing how you reacted and moaned her name. You were quickly becoming overstimulated,you couldn't take more.

"Please slow down,Billie. Please" you begged her.

Billiee00: "I'll slow down,baby. I don't want to overwhelm you" She sent a few more tips, but slowed down quite drastically now.

"That was incredible" You were out of breath.

Billiee00: "It really was. I just couldn't help myself,baby,you know how much I love tipping your streams." After the stream you sent her a video of you touching yourself in her shirt as you loudly moaned her name. You had sent the video like a letter signing it with. -from your favorite pornstar She watched it over and over,saving it immediately and listening to you moan her name, over and over again. She knew the video was just for her, no one else was meant to see you like that,it was just for her. It was like a personal little gift,something just for her. She even thought about working it into one of her songs. She hid the moans within the melody,making it blend seamlessly but if you listen closely you'd hear the moans. And one word made it through a bit muffled but it was you moaning her name. She loved the idea,and even more she loved that no one but her would know what that sound was. No one else would be able to guess what that sound really was,but she knew,and she was the only one who would know. The song immediately became a massive hit,like every song she made. She hadn't stopped messaging  you or attending your streams. No one could deny that the song was a hit,it had everyone talking and speculating about the odd noise in the melody. But no one had any real clue what they actually were,and no one knew the answer but her. One thing that people caught in the song was some girl moaning Billie's name. Immediately speculating who the woman was. Everyone was speculating who the moan belonged to,and all the comments were about trying to figure out who it was. She watched as people tried to put a name to the voice,and each guess was farther off than the last. None of them knew,and it satisfied her to see them so clueless. But most people were convinced that it must've been Billie's new girlfriend.

You were busy and finally had gotten a house,letting you move out of your tiny studio apartment. You made some posts,thanking your subscribers for supporting you. As usual Bille was first.

Billiee00: "Congrats,baby!"  She had sent a tip along with her comment. Many of your subscribers replied to your announcement,they were all congratulating you and expressing their gratitude for you. Comments like.

"You're so amazing,congratulations!"

"Can't wait to see you in your new house!" filled the comments. Later that day you had posted your wishlist and almost immediately it was bought out by one person,and you knew exactly who it was. You sent her a message.

"Couldn't have left something for someone else,huh?" You joked.

Billiee00: "Of course not,you’re my girl” She didn't even consider anyone else,no one could get the chance to spoil you like she did. You got a notification,stuff that wasn't part of your wishlist were included. She had bought your entire wishlist and added more gifts to it.

"You got my full attention,and a few private videos once I set up my studio"

Billiee00: "Mmm,I love getting your attention,baby. I can't wait for those private videos, you're so perfect." You sent her a few photos of you,they weren't too raunchy, just casual.

Billiee00: "You're so beautiful,baby! You look amazing in those pictures" One thing she saw in the background was a poster of her album cover.

Billiee00: "What's that in the background, baby? I can't quite make it out"

"Oh,the poster for the Billie eilish album? I've always wanted to go but her tickets sell out so fast"

Billiee00: "Yeah,the tickets do sell out fast. But you know, I can always get you some if you want to go. I could get backstage passes too." She sent a tip along with her comment.

"Really? You could?"

Billiee00: "Of course, baby. I can get you tickets, backstage passes, anything you want. Just say the word"

"You'd do that for me?"

Billiee00: "Oh, absolutely. I'll do anything for you, and that means getting you front row tickets, backstage passes, you name it." she replied,adding another tip.

"I would love to see her,I've been wanting that for years. She should have a performance coming up in LA in three months."

Billiee00: "Oh she's definitely got a show coming up in LA, and guess what, I can get you those tickets. Front row, backstage passes." She said, with total confidence.

"But how,that show has been sold out for months?"

Billiee00: "I've got my ways, baby. I have connections, and I can make things happen. Don't worry about how I'll do it, I'll just get it done. You'll be seeing her live, front and center, with backstage passes and everything."

About an hour later she had sent you the tickets.

Billiee00: “All set, baby. You’ve got your tickets, front row, and backstage passes. I told you I’d get it done.”

"How did you even do that,so quickly too"

Billiee00: "Oh, baby, I have my ways. Like I said, I have connections. I told you I could get you those tickets, and I never disappoint. I'll always come through for you, no matter what."

"You really are incredible"

Billiee00: "I wanna make you happy, and I'm willing to do anything to do that. So enjoy those tickets, and get ready to have the time of your life at the concert."

One week later you were at the concert,the music started and there she was. You could hardly contain your excitement as the concert started. You had dreamed of this moment,and now it was finally here. Then, there she was. She walked out on stage, looking stunning and radiating confidence. Her presence alone was enough to captivate you as she started to sing, her voice filling the entire arena. But throughout the show you felt her staring at you,not your section but you directly like she knew who you were. Her eyes fixed on you in the crowd. Even though she was performing in front of thousands of people, it was as if you were the only one she was focusing on. The song ended,giving her a few seconds to speak before the music would start again.

"How you guys doing tonight?" she asked, her voice filled with energy and excitement. The crowd roared in response, but her eyes were still fixed on you, completely ignoring everyone else. She then turned to you,before saying the next song was dedicated to someone. Then she said something,a nickname,a nickname she wasn't supposed to know. A nickname only one person would call you. She then locked eyes with you once again. "This one's for you, pornstar." She said, her voice soft but loud enough for you to hear over the music. You felt a jolt of surprise as she turned to you and dedicated the next song to you. But it was the nickname she used that really caught your attention. "Pornstar" was a nickname she wasn’t supposed to know, how did Billie Eilish know that? You were left confused and stunned as the music started up again. How could she have possibly known that,unless it was her this whole time. That would've explained it,the money,the tickets all explained. It was her all along. 

[retrobutterflies]

Ambrosia | billie eilish

Billie Eilish x Female!Reader

Summary: Your avoidant attachment style can only work for so long until it's time to face the music.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: Bi panic, hurt/comfort, fluff

Part II

A/N: If you've gone to see her on tour, you and I are in a fight.

You had been acting off. You knew it. And you weren't a very good actress so you could tell your friends knew it too. But no one had said anything, at least not yet. You had tried to drop hints of work being stressful or your lease ending soon but they were halfhearted and pitiful attempts to camouflage your real turmoil.

You could tell Billie knew it too. Her eyes lingered on you a little longer when someone would say a joke and everyone would laugh and you would be quiet in the corner consumed by your thoughts. A few times she called your name to pull you back into the conversation, a quirked eye brow and side smirk barely concealing the confusion or concern lingering in her eyes. Sometimes it was a gentle nudge in the side or handing you a fresh drink to pull you back from your mind. And it would work for a while until you couldn't stop focusing on how close she was sitting to you on the couch or how every time she would laugh her body would lean into yours and you would feel her warmth and smell her perfume. And then you would be sucked right back into the buzzing thoughts of panic and fear and confusion and you would be plotting your escape route before you imploded.

Tonight was harder than usual. You had been in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and sipping your third beer that was finally giving you a little buzz, softening your brain for the time being. Oliver had come up to you with an award winning grin and glinting eyes. He was a friend of a friend but he seemed to be at every party you were and slowly but surely you started talking and flirting every time you saw each other. You knew if you wanted someone to dance with or chat or make out in the bathroom you could find him and he would give you his charming smile and an enthusiastic yes.

Only tonight it was different. Everything had felt different since your startling realization on the floor of your room a month ago. You noticed him before he reached you and instead of the usual feelings of excitement or anticipation, all you felt was anxiety. Your stomach had been in knots on and off all night and suddenly at the sight of him they were back to full power.

"I thought I'd never find you," he mused, strolling up to you and leaning his torso against the marble counter top. "I thought maybe you were avoiding me."

You let out a soft puff of a laugh, taking a larger gulp of your beer before replying, "I'm avoiding everyone.”

He quirked an eyebrow, pushing back a brown tuft of hair out of his forehead. "For any particular reason?"

You pursed your lips, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, thinking about how to respond. "Just, tired, I guess," was your intelligent response.

"Just tired, you guess," he echoed, eyebrows raising further as he tilted his head at you. His eyes were piercing and you could feel him trying to peel back the layers of your newfound shell.

"Too tired to even dance with me?" he asked, giving you a soft, playful nudge in the side. You tried to give him a smile though you were sure it looked more like a wince.

"I'm sorry, Oliver, I'm just–" You struggled to find the words, the knots tightening in your stomach, "–out of it today."

He let out a hum, taking a sip of his IPA, and stared at you long and hard.

"Is this about a boy?" he questioned.

You winced but it only seemed to encourage him.

"So it is. C'mon, I'm not upset that you have a crush, I’m just upset its not on me," he joked, nudging you again. When you didn’t respond he continued.

"So," he repeated, "Who is it? I promise I'll keep it a secret."

You shook your head, taking another large sip of your drink like it could wash away the anxiety blooming in your chest.

"Is it Ben? You guys used to talk didn't you?" he continued, eyes now scanning the busy kitchen and through the archway peaking into the living room.

"Or Sebastian? I know he's always had a thing for you. He glares at me sometimes," he let out a chuckle.

"Oliver–" You tried to cut him off.

"Wait no, it's Griffen isn't it? God, I should've guessed that first."

"Oliver, stop, please," You put a hand up to rub the spot between your forehead that was starting to ache.

He looked back at you and frowned. "I get it, you don't have to tell me. I have been told I give good advice though," he said.

You looked up at him. His big brown eyes were sincere and there was a time when they used to make butterflies erupt in your stomach. But now it was like any fascination you had had with him before had puffed out like a candle.

"Listen, I appreciate that, but–" You let out a breath, trying to choose your words carefully, "this has nothing to do with a boy."

"You sure?" he replied, skeptical. Your stomach twisted again.

"I'm sure," You breathed.

He left you alone after that, strolling away to find his next playmate. You stood there for a while, people watching and sipping on your beer. It didn't take you long to notice Billie with a few of your friends, perched on a couch in the living room, a perfect view from the kitchen. Someone said something and she laughed, throwing her head back, hair glinting in the low lighting. You stared for longer than you should've.

And then she finally noticed you. Her eyes caught yours and her smile morphed into a softer more tentative one. The anxiety that had been appeased for the moment roared back to life and you felt your heart rate quicken to the point that you could feel your pulse in your neck. You looked away, clenching onto your near empty beer can before sliding it onto the counter. You looked up to see the far door to the balcony and before you could think your legs were taking you there.

It was surprisingly empty and the chill of the autumn air felt refreshing against your burning cheeks. You leaned your elbows on the metal railing, taking in a few deep breaths as your eyes scanned the glowing lights of the city skyline.

You felt like you were going crazy. Everything you had known about yourself had suddenly flipped on its head on a random Tuesday and now you couldn't function normally. You were overthinking everything. All of your relationships, all of your friendships, all of your actions. How could you have not known? How could it have taken you this long? Don't people usually know right away?

"Hey," her voice hit you like an electrical shock. You jumped slightly and usually this would've made her chuckle but you could tell she knew something wasn't right. "Sorry," she said, her voice a hair softer, "I didn't mean to scare you."

You finally turned to look at her as she was closing the sliding door behind her. Her eyes seemed cautious and she took slowed steps towards you like you were a frightened animal.

"No, it's fine. Sorry, I'm–" losing my mind, "just a little tired."

She came to stand next to you, leaning her arms on the railing as well, and nodded. A few pieces of dark hair fluttered in the crisp breeze and your eyes lingered for a moment. You took in her side profile, the slope of her nose, flush of her cheeks, the pinched wrinkle between her eyebrows. She was quiet for a while, eyes looking out at the city, seeing through it like it wasn't even there at all.

"You seem to be tired all the time now," she finally said, her voice low and soft. You could hear her attempt at light humor, trying break the tension that had settled between you as the weeks went on but you could read her well and you could see the worry etched on her face and feel the apprehension in her words.

"Yeah," was all you could muster to reply. Your mind flashed back to all of the plans you had turned down or cancelled on last minute under the ruse you were tired. You turned your attention back to the city, trying hard to focus your eyes anywhere but her face.

You could practically hear the thoughts buzzing in her head, all the words and questions she had for why you had suddenly sunk into yourself. And why you had suddenly started avoiding her. She let out a soft sigh. You could feel her gaze on the side of your cheek but you couldn't bring yourself to look at her.

"Are you doing okay?" she asked, voice even softer than before.

You bit the inside of your cheek. You weren't sure how to respond. Any wrong word and you might very well burst into tears.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" You replied. You tried to sound nonchalant but even you could hear the slight waver in your voice. You moved your hands to grip the railing, an attempt at grounding yourself so you didn't lose your resolve in front of her. You were already thinking about an escape route, maybe to the bathroom to cry or maybe straight out the front door where you could call someone to come pick you up.

She paused for a moment, staring at you. You could tell she was trying to read between the lines, hear the words you weren't saying. And you knew if you met her eyes she would be able to pull them from you in an instant.

"You know," she paused again, her eyes still boring into the side of your face, "usually I don't pry because you always come to me when you're ready but–"

She let out another sigh, finally pulling her gaze away and back towards the twinkling night. She tapped her fingers softly on the railing. You could hear her rings making gentle clinks against the metal. It was a tell tale sign she was nervous or agitated, or maybe both.

"You're worrying me a little." She took another breath. "And I just want to make sure you're alright because I can tell something is bothering you even if you're not ready to tell me what it is yet."

You could feel your eyes start to sting and your hands were starting to freeze from clenching the cold steel of the railing for so long but you didn't dare move them for fear their fidgeting would give you away. But your throat had tightened to the point that you weren't sure you could say any word without it sounding strained and threatening tears.

"And–" she started again, her voice taking on a slightly pained sound, "if I did something that upset you I'm really sorry. I know I can be a lot sometimes but I don't want that to make you uncomfortable or . . ." She trailed off, grimacing at her own words.

You finally plucked up the courage to look at her. She looked pained and you felt the anxiety in your stomach turn to dread. She looked so worried and it was obvious that your strange behavior had been affecting her for a while now. And somehow she knew she was the cause.

"You started acting strange after the last time we hung out and I–" she scrunched her face up in regret, "–didn't mean to do anything that would make you uncomfortable and sometimes I get too comfortable and I forget to check myself–" she let out a frustrated sigh. You turned your gaze away sharply.

Your mind spun back to that moment a month ago, both of you sitting on the floor of your room. You didn't even remember what you had been talking about but you remembered your stomach had cramped from laughing so hard. And your faces were so close together. And she had started playing with your hair, first brushing it behind your ear and then twirling a strand or two. And then her finger had brushed so lightly against your cheek once, then twice, then it travelled down your jaw then towards your neck and left goosebumps and tingles in its wake and then so suddenly like a bolt of lightening you had wanted her to kiss you.

Your whole life you had thought you only liked boys. You had only ever had crushes on boys and dated boys and then suddenly you wanted a girl and you had to double back through every interaction in your life to see if you had been deluding yourself, refusing to acknowledge this second side of you. And it was an earthshaking realization that you hadn't even known yourself and that you had been so blind to it.

And then the worst part about it was that it wasn't just any girl but it was your best friend. The most major, important, integrated person in your life and suddenly you had feelings for her and you had no idea what to do.

"I just–I didn't mean to let it get–" she cut herself off, letting out another frustrated huff.

You couldn't risk looking at her. Your eyesight was already blurring from the moisture building up in your waterline and you knew if you made a sound it would cause them to start falling, ruining any last shred of dignity you had left.

You could feel her gaze on you again, penetrating and heavy and from the corner of your eye you could see her shoulders sag and her head dip slightly.

She was quiet for another few seconds before murmuring a quiet, "I'm sorry."

It made your heart clench painfully and you wanted to turn to her and reassure her that nothing was her fault and you were just dealing with your own inner turmoil but you could already feel a few tears escaping your eyes and rolling hot and fast down your wind-bitten cheeks.

She took your silence as rejection and pulled back suddenly from the balcony. "I'll, um, leave you be for a little. If, uh–" her voice sounded pinched and low and you could picture the look of defeat on her face and it made you feel like throwing up.

"If you need a lift home, just, uh, let me know," she murmured.

She turned around and took a few steps to the door, hand resting on the handle. You turned to look at her, sudden panic and desperation clawing at your neck at the thought of her leaving even though a second ago that was all you had wanted.

"Bil–" Her name got caught in your throat that had tightened so much you felt like you were choking.

She turned quickly, shock filtering across her features as she noticed the tears.

"Are you crying?" her voice held a quiet tone of surprise but it was enough for the rest of the tears you had been desperately holding back to break free.

You cupped your hands over your eyes, a hiccup of a sob leaving your lips, and pressed your sleeves into your eyelashes in a piteous attempt to dry up your tears. You heard her whisper your name before you felt her in front of you.

"Please don't cry. I didn't realize–" Her hands went to your shoulders, squeezing slightly before pulling you forward until you could feel her torso pressing against yours and feel her arms winding around your body.

It was useless fighting your emotions. They had always won before. It was silly of you to think you could beat them now. You felt yourself sink into her, your hands moving to wind around her neck, pressing your cheek against her warmth.

"I'm–I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you were so upset. I–" she sounded like she couldn't find her words, still surprised by your reaction. Her arms tightened around you, one of her hands reaching up to cup the crown of your head.

She dragged her hand down the back of your head, fingers raking through your hair, brushing against your scalp. You stood there for a while, your tears soaking into the sleeve of your shirt, her delicately stroking your head, dolling out a few hushed apologies even though there was nothing for her to be apologizing for.

Finally, when your choking whimpers and nearly ceaseless tears quieted down, she pulled back. She pulled her sleeve over her hand and pressed it gently against your cheek and with slow and deliberate movements she wiped away the wetness on your face. It was an intimate enough gesture to bring more tears to your eyes but she tutted at you.

"Come on, baby. I don't want you to run yourself ragged," she cajoled though her voice was still hushed and the worry never left her face.

'Baby' hit you right in the chest. She had called you that before, and more often in recent memory, and though it had always made you feel warm it had never quite knocked the breath out of you like now.

She swiped her thumb over your eyelid, then the other, brushing the new tears from your lashes. Then she swiped the delicate skin under your eyes, once, twice, maybe a third for good measure. You couldn't tell where the flush in your cheeks from the cold stopped and the blush began. Her eyes now held yours and in the darkness their hue was almost as dark as the deepest part of the ocean and you could see the lights of the city glittering in her irises like she had plucked all of the stars from the sky and sprinkled them in her eyes. And for a second time you were breathless.

"Why don't I take you home?" she breathed, eyes now flittering around your face.

You wanted to reply with something witty, something to ease the tension even a hint but you couldn't find your words. All you could do was give her a nod. She held out her hand to you and like it was second nature you took it. Her rings were cool against your skin but her hand was warm and soft and she gave you a reassuring squeeze before gently tugging you back inside the apartment.

She didn't bother to say goodbye to anyone. You were sure she was doing it for your sake. You knew you looked like a mess. Her car was parked on the street and she opened the passenger door for you and waited until you were seated before shutting it and going towards the driver's side.

She didn't say anything, only turned the radio on to a comfortable buzz before starting in the direction of your apartment. You leaned your forehead against the cool glass of the window and shut your eyes tight, trying to take in the small moment of peace before you knew you would have to finally explain yourself. You could feel her heavy glances and for a moment you swore she was going to reach out to touch you but she didn't and soon enough you were pulling into the parking garage of your apartment.

She pulled into one of the designated spots for your unit, the other one reserved for your roommate. It was essentially hers since you didn't have a car and the familiarity of her pulling in like normal when she hadn't done it for a month had your heart clenching again.

The elevator ride was quiet as was the walk to your unit. When you opened the front door, your roommate and her boyfriend were cozied up on the couch, watching the newest slasher flick. You had calmed down enough to offer them a pleasant greeting as you took your shoes off and they turned their attention from the glowing TV to respond. You could see the peaked interest on your roommate's face at the sight of Billie standing next to you who she hadn't seen since that fateful day.

"Let us know if we need to turn the volume down," your roommate said and you gave her a small smile before leading Billie down the hall and to your room, shutting the door behind you.

For the first time ever, she looked somewhat lost being in your room. You were so used to her sprawling on your bed, borrowing your clothes without needing to ask, using far too much of your body wash when she took a shower and now she was lingering by the door, arms crossed over her chest like she was too scared to touch anything. You dropped your bag onto your desk and sunk down to sit on the bed. You patted the spot next to you.

"You can come sit," You said, before adding, "If you want."

She relaxed slightly and nodded, shrugging off her jacket onto your desk chair before taking the space next to you. You sat there in a thick silence. You opened your mouth to speak but your courage was depleting at a rapid rate and your eyes kept flashing back to that moment a month ago, seeing you both like ghosts sitting on the floor in front of you. She finally broke the silence first.

"I just want to say that," she took a steadying breath, eyes focused on her hands that were wringing nervously in her lap, "I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable and I'm sorry that I overstepped a boundary."

You let your eyes wander over her face. Her brows pulled together, furrowing slightly as she thought back to that day.

"I know you don't have those feelings and I–" she shook her head, pieces of dark hair falling into her face making her brush them back behind her ears.

"I shouldn't have let myself get close like that. It wasn't fair to you," she admitted, letting out an irritated exhale.

She was quiet again. You weren't sure if she was waiting for you to answer or trying to find the words to keep going. You felt your pulse quicken as you stared at her. She lifted her head and her eyes met yours and again you were breathless. She had always been beautiful but you had never let yourself view her as anything more than a friend. And now looking at her you had the crushing realization that you didn't think you could ever view her as anything but anymore.

"Billie," your voice was quiet and you didn't realize what you were going to say until the words were spilling out of your mouth.

"I love you."

She blinked at you, eyes wide and flickering between yours. And then she grimaced. You couldn't help but feel the wash of rejection settle in your chest.

"Don't say that," she said, shaking her head and looking like you had just slapped her.

"Why?"

She stood up abruptly, like being close to you was suddenly suffocating her. She crossed her arms back in front of her chest, eyes looking around your room but focusing on nothing.

"Because you don't mean it," she muttered, her eyes following the myriad of pictures and polaroids you had decorated over your wall, her face smiling back in more than a few of them.

"What do you mean?" You almost laughed at the absurdity. "Of course I do."

She shook her head again and turned back to look at you and you were taken aback at the sudden anger swirling in her eyes.

"You fell of the face of the planet four weeks ago," she snapped. Her eyes were narrowed and her thick liner made them look darker than normal.

"You barely answered my texts. I thought I had done something horrible. And then when I realized what I had done you were no where to be found for me to apologize. You iced me out so fast it made my head spin!"

You couldn't help but gape at her. She bit her lip, her eyes now glimmering with her own tears threatening to fall. The sight of them made your insides coil up so tight you almost felt faint.

"One second we're talking about the future, laughing at the possibility that we could ever live apart from each other and the next second you're gone like I was suddenly nothing to you," she exclaimed, her voice raising in a mix of anger and pain. A couple of stray tears rolled down her cheeks and she angrily wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"You can't just leave me like that and then . . . and then–" she let out a shuddering breath, "say you love me."

You felt your tears resurface, stinging against your lashes as you stared at her. Guilt was wrapping around you like vines and you couldn't believe you didn't realize how much you had hurt her from pulling away like that.

"And it's not fair because you don't even mean it. Not–" she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment like she could force her tears back.

"It doesn't mean the same thing to you,” she finally met your eyes, "Not in the way that it does to me."

"Billie, I–" You felt your breath get caught in your throat, "I'm so sorry."

She stared at you for a painstakingly long moment before the anger seeped out of her and was replaced by dejection. She sunk down to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"No–" she rested her forehead against her knee, her face now hidden from your gaze, "I'm sorry. I just–You'd think at this point I'd be able to deal with it better, you know? But it doesn't seem to get any easier."

You got up from your spot on the bed and sunk down to the floor with her.

"You have feelings for me," You suddenly realized, eyes scanning her as if you were trying to see what you had been missing all this time.

She let out a humorless laugh. "Brutal, isn't it?”

She chuckled again, raising her head to rest her chin on the top of her knee.

"You don't even like girls. And I can't seem to like anyone but you," she admitted, her voice rasping at the end. It sounded like she had accepted her fate long ago and you couldn't help but feel the pang of regret in your chest at wishing you had realized this so much earlier.

"I tried to make it go away. But sometimes I would just let myself pretend just for a second that you felt the same way," she let out a heavy breath.

"The last time I was here, I just, I let myself pretend a little too long and I got carried away."

She met your eyes and a few rouge tears dropped down her cheeks. Instinctively, you reached out and brushed them away, cupping her face and swiping your thumbs across the swells of her cheeks. She closed her eyes and you watched her face relax for a fleeting moment before the anguish was creeping back in again.

"You can't do that," she whispered, eyes blinking open as she pulled her face out of your hands. "You're only gonna make it worse."

You stared at each other for a few moments, the air heavy and thick with emotion. But you could feel your resolve strengthening after she bared her heart to you. You figured it was only fair to do the same.

“I love you,” you repeated, this time more firm than the last.

She winced again like the words were painful to hear.

“I mean it,” you said, “I love you.”

She shook her head, not believing your words or maybe thinking you didn’t understand her.

“You don’t,” she denied, opening her mouth to retort again but you cut her off.

“I do,” you insisted. “Please, just–Let me explain.”

She closed her mouth, blinking at you before giving you a short nod.

"I grew up in a very traditional household," you started, taking a wavering breath to ready yourself. "My whole life I was surrounded by nothing but heterosexuality. My parents, my relatives, all of my friends. And I had always liked boys but it had never crossed my mind that I might like girls too."

"And when I met you I knew you were going to be so special to me. It was kind of frightening how quickly we grew attached. But I had always valued my close friendships with girls that I just–" you shook your head, eyes straying to your hands nestled in your lap, "I hadn't realized that sometimes my feelings went beyond the scope of platonic."

"But last month, when you were here and we were talking I . . . I had this sudden realization that I wanted you to kiss me.”

You looked up to see her eyes boring into you. She kept so still like she was worried one wrong move and you would close back up.

“I had to . . . comb back through my life to make sense of it. I didn’t realize–I thought you just knew. I thought it was so crazy of me to only realize now and . . . how stupid could I be for not knowing I felt like this.”

You shut your eyes, thinking back through all those memories you had replayed over and over again.

“And then I thought back to moments between us,” you let out a shaky exhale, feeling your eyes sting, “How close we get, the things we talk about. How I don’t let anyone do the things you do. How I always look to you first for anything.”

You could feel her penetrating gaze even with your eyes shut.

“And then I just . . . I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. Your friendship is so important to me but I didn’t know how to be around you without confronting these new feelings. And I couldn’t,” you winced, letting out another shaky sigh, “I couldn’t bare the thought of losing you because of them.”

It was so quiet for a moment you thought maybe she had left. But after a few beats of silence you heard her shuffle towards you and then slowly her arm curved around your back and she was pulling you into her.

“You could never lose me,” she said so softly it was nearly a whisper, her voice thick with emotion.

You bit your lip hard to stop it from trembling. Her other hand found your face and cupped your cheek, nudging you to look up at her. You opened your eyes to be met with her anguished expression, eyes glossy in the dim lighting, eyeliner smudged at the sides.

“And you’re not stupid,” she said, brows furrowing further.

“But how could I not have known–”

“That doesn’t make you stupid. There’s no calendar for this shit,” her thumb danced softly over the plush of your cheek, so light, so delicate, you couldn’t help but lean into it.

“So you believe me?” you finally asked after another bout of silence.

“That you love me?” she questioned, a rasp in her tone. You nodded.

She moved her hand to stroke back your hair from your face, thumb lingering on your hairline as she brushed back the soft baby hairs.

“Yes,” she finally conceded, eyes roaming around your face like this was the first time she was able to openly admire it. Her face drew closer and you could feel the warmth of her breath graze your lips.

“You just can’t go cold on me like that again,” she breathed, her eyes so blue and captivating like this was some sort of spell she was weaving on you. “I felt insane.”

You let out a weak chuckle. She mirrored your smile, eyes straying to your lips.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, making her eyes meet yours again, “I really am.”

“I know, baby,” she replied.

That was all it took for you to lean in and kiss her. She took a sharp intake of breath, maybe in surprise, but her lips responded to yours in an instant. They were so soft, velveteen and silky, and you could smell her sweet perfume overwhelming your senses. And she tasted like honey and mint and ambrosia and you couldn’t believe you hadn’t kissed her before.

Her hand raked through your hair, curving around the back of your neck, massaging the tendon as her kisses grew deeper and sweeter. You felt your mind start to mellow into a hypnotic buzz where you couldn’t think much past her and her satin lips and her soft exhales fanning over your face. Her other hand slid around your torso, palm centering on the small of your back, before she was pulling you into her and up onto her lap.

“Fuck,” you breathed between kisses, wrapping your arms around her neck so you could press yourself in further.

Slowly her kisses strayed from your lips, tracing the edge of your jaw. She nudged her cheek against the underside of your jaw making your head lift so she could press fiery kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. You dug your fingers into her hair, tightening your hold when she found an extra sensitive spot making her let out a pleased hum against your skin that vibrated and tickled.

“Bil–” You could barely speak, so consumed by her ministrations.

She littered kisses on your neck and over your pulse point where you were sure she could feel how fast your heart was beating. You felt her grin against your skin, nipping softly before apologizing with a searing kiss. Your body was turning lax and her arms tightened around your torso, anchoring you to her.

Then her lips were moving back up, leaving a wake of tingles as they climbed before they found yours again. You kissed back eagerly, trying to convey everything you weren’t able to in words, your guilt, your fear, your worry, your adoration, your love. And she drank you in, evaporating the remnants of your anxiety and doubt.

It took you a moment to realize one of her hands had slipped under the back of your shirt, her palm warm and pleasing against your bare skin. She dragged her nails lightly down your spine and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sensation. You felt her smile against your lips and after pressing one, two, a third, another kiss she finally relented, pulling her head back so she could look at you.

Your eyes fluttered open, dazed. Hers were half-lidded and penetrating and her lips were a bright pink, bruised and swollen. Her free hand reached back up, pushing your hair back and stroking her fingers delicately along your cheek.

“I love you too,” she murmured, voice so soft you could’ve missed it.

A flood of warmth filled your chest and a blush rose on your cheeks and she seemed unable to stop herself from leaning in and pressing a kiss against the flushing skin.

“I really missed you,” you confessed, sighing in contentment as her lips lingered on your cheek.

“Not as much as I did,” she said, leaning back again so she could look at you. She rested her head back against the foot of the bed, looking at you low through her dark lashes.

“No I was going crazy,” you admitted and she let out a spluttering laugh. You smiled for the first time in what felt like forever, gaze lingering on her squinting eyes and the small dimple that appeared on her chin.

“Dude, I was out of my mind. I wouldn’t shut up about you. I literally wrote a fucking song because you were ignoring me,” she confessed.

“No way,” you laughed, delighted at the thought that she would ever like you enough to write a song about you.

“I did,” she affirmed, snickering, moving both of her arms down to rest behind your back, tugging you in again so you sat higher on her lap.

“Will you let me hear it?” you asked, moving your hands down to her neck, finding the soft baby hairs at her nape and brushing your thumbs against the sides.

“I was really in my feels,” she warned.

“That’s okay,” you said and she smiled at you so softly that you felt a swirl of butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“Okay,” she said, biting her lower lip, eyes flashing back down to yours.

“Really?”

“Mhm, you just can’t make fun of me though,” she replied and you let out another soft laugh at the thought.

“I’ve never made fun of you in my entire life,” you said unable to stop your smile and she guffawed at you.

“Still a shit liar I see,” she retorted.

“I’ve never lied either,” you said, grinning and she squeezed your side making you let out a shocked giggle.

“‘No, I’m fine Billie. I’m just tired. Nothing is wrong and I’m not ignoring you’,” she paraphrased, poking fun now at your sorry excuses for avoiding her.

You groaned half in regret, half in embarrassment.

“I mean, it’s not entirely a lie. I was sleeping like shit,” you admitted.

She hummed, eyes seemingly now noticing the darker shadows lurking under your eyes, your makeup long gone from all of your tears.

“I was too,” she said, taking a deep sigh, “How do you think I had time to write a whole song?”

You laughed again and she smiled at you. All of the worry and sadness that had clouded her face for the past few weeks had finally left. She looked like she had her sparkle back and you felt breathless at the thought that it was because of you.

“Would you, um,” your eyes flickered between hers, suddenly nervous, “wanna stay the night?”

She let out an affronted laugh. “Did you think I wanted to leave?”

“I was just checking. I didn’t wanna push you or anything,” you replied, narrowing your eyes at her but unable to quell your smile.

“I know, baby. And I appreciate it,” she cooed, leaning in to kiss your cheek again.

“I like when you call me that,” you confessed, the words leaving your lips before you could even think to stop them.

“Yeah?” Her grin deepened and you nodded, your cheeks warm. She hummed again.

She stared at you for another long moment, eyes scanning your face, her hand reaching up to brush your hair back. Your eyes fluttered shut at the comfort.

“You’ll tell me next time when you’re this upset?” she asked, voice softer now.

You blinked open your eyes. Her worry was seeping back and you felt the guilt pool in your stomach again but you pushed it back, confident in the fact that you couldn’t ignore her again even if you tried.

“I promise.”

She stared at you long and hard. And then she leaned in and pressed another silken kiss to your lips.

“Good because otherwise I’m breaking down your door,” she mumbled against your lips and you couldn’t contain your laugh. And then she pressed in further, kissing away all the guilt and fear that lingered, replacing it with nothing but the touch of her lips.

billie masterlist ✩

[delilaheilish]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ☆ TALK YOU THROUGH IT 𓂃 billie eilish

⤷ phone sex, masturbation, pet names, praise.

in a cozy, dimly lit room, the flickering glow of neon hues bouncing off walls that seem to hold a thousand unspoken secrets. you sink back into the plush cushion of your chair, the softness wrapping around you like a warm embrace. your heart flutters as you reach for the phone, fingers tracing the familiar outline with fondness.

it's a delicate dance, balancing the desire to hear her voice with the knowledge that the distance between you both is vast, an ocean you cannot bridge tonight. but as you press the call button, anticipation blooms in your chest, swelling until it threatens to overflow. her ringtone, a haunting melody that seems to echo with every beat of your heart.

the phone buzzes against your ear, and her voice spills out, rich and husky. "hey, baby," she purrs, and it's as if the world shrinks down to just the two of you.

the sound of her voice sends a jolt straight to your core, heat pooling low in your belly. her words are a seductive caress, stroking over your skin even as miles stretch out between you. you can almost smell the sweet scent of her perfume, almost taste the tang of her lips.

"hi love," you whisper back, feeling a blush creep up your neck as your heart pounds against your ribs. "i miss you so much." it's not just the physical touch you crave—it's the feeling of her, the way she makes you quiver inside.

"i know, babe," she responds, her tone softening. "but i'm right here with you." her voice is a gentle whisper against your ear, as if she's right there beside you. "tell me what you want." your breath catches in your throat as you realize the path this conversation is about to take. but the desire coursing through you is too powerful to resist. you lean back into the chair, fingers creeping down your body, trailing a path of fire over your skin.

"i want you," you confess, voice barely above a whisper. "i want to touch myself, imagining it's your fingers instead of mine." it's a confession, a secret desire spilled out onto the phone lines. billie hums in approval on the other end. "that's my good girl," she praises, her voice laced with desire. "go on, show me how much you want me."

your hand slips beneath the waistband of your shorts, finding the slick heat that's already building. a soft moan escapes your lips as your fingers slide over your clit, circling it with deliberate slowness. "billie," you breathe her name like a mantra, a plea for more. your hips buck into your hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. "god, it's so good."

her laughter is a soft, sultry sound on the other end of the line. "keep going, babe," she urges. "i want to hear every moan, every gasp you make thinking of me."

you comply willingly, fingers working in a rhythm that has your back arching off the chair. every touch sends sparks flying through your body, each stroke of your fingers bringing you closer to the edge.

billie's voice in your ear is a constant source of encouragement, her dirty talk pushing you further into the abyss of pleasure. "that's it, baby," she coos. "cum f’me. let me hear you come undone because of me."

and then it happens, a tidal wave of pleasure crashes over you, rippling through every fiber of your being. you cry out her name, voice shaking with the force of your climax.

as you come down from the high, your breathing slowly returns to normal. you realize billie is still on the line, her voice soft and gentle now. "i'm so proud of you," she murmurs. "you're so fucking beautiful when you let go like that."

her praise wraps around you like a blanket, warming your skin and soothing your racing heart. you close your eyes, a contented smile on your lips. "thank you," you say, your voice filled with affection. "i love you, billie."

"i love you too," she responds, her voice tender. "don't worry, lovey. i'll be back soon. until then, we can make every night count." the line goes silent as you hang up the phone, a satisfied sigh escaping your lips. though she's thousands of miles away, her presence lingers within you, a promise of more to come.

© delilaheilish

💌: well hello. i literally have never written for anyone but the sturniolo triplets this is weird af

[harkness-girl]

Hey I have really enjoyed your recent work, especially My house of stone, it gave me a lot of Carol vibes and am excited to read the next chapter.

Since you mentioned you were doing requests I was wondering if you would consider doing an Agatha Reader story where they are broken up but still sort of keep in touch due to circumstances (maybe divorced/separated co-parents or they used to be friends before dating and still have a common friend group) and Reader starts dating again resulting in Agatha getting very jealous and possessive and perusing Reader again trying to get back together with them.

Would love to read something like that I really like jealous exes stories with some angst and yearning.😭

thank you for your kind words! 💜 I’m glad you’ve enjoyed my work so far:) And thanks for the prompt, hopefully it lives up to expectations. Pairing: Agatha x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, possessiveness, dirty talk

Tip me 💰if you like my work and want to support me :)

You’ve never thought it would come to this, doing Sunday brunches with your ex wife Agatha where you pretend to be civil for the sake of the rest of the group. 

It is true that at the beginning it was worse - you couldn’t even look at each other, kept snapping at each other for the smallest things. The group almost broke up. But now a few months later, you can be civil. Or well, civil… ish. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by your friends and their laughing. You must have missed some joke so you smile politely, pretending to know what the punchline was. Your friends, the ones that you and Agatha share in a stupid custody, laugh around the long table. Jen sits across from you, already tipsy from the second mimosa. There’s Billy who still calls you “power couple” by accident, and Alice who has never taken sides and has said she never will. Even though sometimes you feel like she pushes you to get back together, as if she forgot how painful the months leading up to the divorce were - Agatha always coming home late, you feeling unappreciated, the fights, the tears… There was also a lot of hate sex, but Alice didn’t need to know that. 

The brunch is going fine, as fine as it can go with Agatha sitting diagonally from you, in that deep purple blouse she knows brings out the blue in her eyes. She hasn’t looked at you all morning. You haven’t looked either. It’s easier that way.

Then Alice, grinning, says, “So, are you gonna bring Olivia around sometime, or are we just going to keep pretending you’re not dating someone?”

You freeze for half a second.

You chuckle, a little shy. “We’re… keeping it casual. Nothing serious yet.”

You don’t mean to look at Agatha, but you do. It’s a mistake. Her face is still. No blink, no frown. But you see it. You know her well enough to read what others don’t. Her jaw clenches ever so slightly. Her hand tightens around her coffee mug. She’s listening. And she hates this.

You turn back to Alice and change the subject quickly. You make a joke about Billy’s latest dating horror story, and the laughter resumes. But that glance lingers and you shouldn’t care. 

You don’t care. 

~~~

Later that week, a message buzzes your phone just as you’re leaving the office, slinging your jacket over your shoulder.

Alice: “Drinks tonight! Everyone’s going. Billy picked a spot near the river. Come onnnn. You need to relax.”

You hesitate. You’re exhausted, emotionally and physically. But maybe drinks and dancing could be a nice distraction. 

You arrive at the club just after ten. It’s humid inside, lights low, music pulsing like a heartbeat. Your friends have claimed a booth near the back, half-laughing, half-drunk. And there’s Agatha, in a black slip dress, her legs crossed, martini glass in hand. Her hair’s longer than it used to be. Her smile looks real until she sees you.

You nod at her. She raises her glass. You keep your distance at first, talking with Alice and Billy, throwing back a few drinks.

Then Olivia walks in. You didn’t ask her to come, she was just nearby and texted. You said, "Swing by if you want to say hi." So she does. Light denim jacket, crop top, short braid. She’s glowing and she’s hot.

“Hey,” she says, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Didn’t mean to crash.”

Your friends say hello warmly, but Agatha leans forward from her corner of the booth and mutters as if under her breath, though everyone can hear her, “what a stalker”.

You feel the tension spread through the group. 

Olivia gives a small, tight smile and steps back. “I was just leaving,” she says. You try to grab her hand gently, but she’s already gone.

You don’t follow her. You don’t know why you don’t. But you do know that when you made the decision not to follow her, you sealed your fate subconsciously. 

You get another drink instead. You slide into the mess of lights and bodies, dancing with Jen and Alice, letting the rhythm numb your brain. You can feel Agatha's gaze on you, hot and heavy.

Then she’s there. She’s dancing near you, not with you. But close enough to touch.

She keeps nudging you. A bump of her hip. A brush of her hand. As if by accident, but you know her well enough to know every thing she does has a motive. 

You try to ignore her, but your body is pulsing because you remember what it used to be like and when she looks at you like that, you feel weak. 

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, needing air more than relief.

You’re washing your hands when the door swings open hard, and she follows you in.

You turn around to face her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t care,” she says.

Before you can answer, she shoves you, not hard, but enough to make your back hit the wall. Then her hands are sliding beneath your shirt, her mouth near your ear, hot breath trailing your skin.

“You’re mine,” she whispers. “You’ve always been mine.”

You stare at her, stunned. Your breath is shallow.

You say it clearly, trying to believe it: “I stopped being yours the moment we signed those papers.”

She doesn’t move. She watches you like she’s looking for something. 

You slide past her and walk out. Your heart's slamming in your chest, and the music feels distant now. You try to lose yourself in the dancing again.

But then she’s there. And this time, she doesn’t act like her moves are unintentional. You’re pulled into her rhythm. Your bodies find each other like muscle memory. Her fingers curl into the fabric at your waist. Your hands brush against her back. The music’s pulsing. The room’s a blur. And you’re dancing like you used to, before all the tears and screams.

You don’t kiss. You don’t talk. You just feel and let your body do what it wants. 

~~~

You don’t remember exactly how you got to your apartment.

One minute you were dancing, her hips pressed to yours, her breath hot on your neck, the next, you're fumbling with keys at your door while she kisses your shoulder from behind.

The door slams shut behind you. Her hands are everywhere. In your hair, on your waist, under your shirt. You're both half-laughing, half-starving for each other. She pulls your jacket off. You try to say something, but her mouth covers yours before any words can come out. 

You stumble backwards into the apartment, knocking into the kitchen island, then the back of your couch. Clothes peel off with clumsy fingers. Her dress is the first to hit the floor. Then your top.

She pushes you against the wall in the hallway, kissing you hard like she needs to erase Olivia from your mouth. “She doesn’t know you like I do,” she breathes into your skin.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Her hands are already undoing the button on your jeans.

“I know where you like to be kissed,” she murmurs, dragging her mouth down your collarbone. “I know how you sound when you come.”

Your knees almost give out.

You pull her up when you see her lowering to her knees, spinning her toward your bedroom. You want her back where she belongs, meaning your bed, even though that thought is not rational, it’s your arousal speaking. 

You’re both flushed, messy, laughing between kisses that turn into gasps. You fall into the bed in a tangle. She straddles you, grounding you there with her thighs, her hands pinning yours like you belong beneath her.

“Tell me you missed me,” she demands, her voice low, almost a growl.

You turn your head away. “You hurt me, Agatha.”

She grabs your chin and forces your eyes back to hers. “But you still want me.”

You hate that she’s right.

She kisses you again, slower this time, deeper, with a kind of desperation that doesn't match her cocky tone. “You’re mine,” she whispers between kisses. “Even if you hate me for it. You're still mine.”

You close your eyes, let her claim you for a little longer, even if your mind screams that this is a bad idea.

Even if the way she moves over you feels too much like home.

Even if Olivia’s soft, warm presence flickers somewhere in your memory… and fades the moment Agatha bites your neck and says, “No one else gets to touch you like this.”

You grip her hair harder when she makes her way down your body until she finally settles between your thighs and dives right in. She still remembers what makes you tick, what makes your toes curl. She laps at your wetness, sucking your clit, and when your hips raise up from the bed, she slaps your butt and then squeezes it. Fuck. You come with her name on your lips. 

She smirks up at you, pleased with herself, and God, she looks so devilishly hot with her messy hair and your wetness glistening on her chin that your breath hitches. You kick away at the sheet that is half on the bed, half dragging along the floor, and you want to taste her, but Agatha’s not done taking you. 

She climbs back up, legs straddling your hips again, palms against your chest, squeezing your breasts. Her nails drag slowly across the soft skin, teasing, marking.

“You think she touches you like I do?” she murmurs, low and hot against your ear. “Does she even know how to make you beg, or does she just fumble and hope for the best?”

You open your mouth to tell her to shut up, but her mouth is already on yours again, swallowing your words, devouring them.

Her hips grind against hip bone, slow and deliberate, leaving wet marks from her arousal and you whine out loud. She grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand.

“I cannot believe you let her touch you,” she whispers harshly. “You let her kiss my mouth, sleep in my bed?“

You don’t argue. You can’t. Her hand is sliding down your body now, teeth grazing the underside of your breast, leaving a mark like a claim. One she knows you’ll see tomorrow in the mirror and remember exactly who put it there.

“I don’t care how many little girlfriends you try to parade around,” she growls as she circles your nipple with her tongue, breath ragged, her voice darker now. “You come undone for me. No one else gets this. No one else gets you.”

Your fingers curl into the sheets, your back arching as her fingers finally push into you. 

You moan, sharp and involuntary. She grins against you, wicked and proud.

“God, you’re still so easy for me,” she says. “Dripping like you’ve been waiting for me to come take what’s mine.”

She doesn’t let up, hands, mouth, words all working in making you crazy with want, with belonging. 

“You’re not over me,” she whispers as you writhe beneath her. “You’ve never been over me. You just needed reminding.”

And you hate how right she is. Because you will never be over her, no matter how hard you try.

Her hand slides up your throat as she leans over you again, lips brushing yours. Not kissing. Just your breaths mingling. 

“Say it,” she whispers. “Say you’re still mine.”

You shake your head weakly, trying to deny it. Her grip tightens slightly and you moan. “Fuck.”

She kisses your cheek, your jaw, then your mouth. “I’ll make you say it,” she promises, and when she moves again, her hand between your thighs takes up a delicious rhythm that has your whole body shaking and you cannot remember why you ever left her.

~~~

The sunlight is cruel as it slips through the cracks in your blinds right on your face. You blink at the ceiling, you head pounding, your body sore in the most delicious way. 

You turn your head. Agatha is still asleep, her body draped over yours in a way that indicates how possessive she is even in her sleep. Her leg is tangled between yours, like it fucking belongs there. Like months of silence, followed by months of screaming and crying never existed.

You stare at her for a long time and hate the way your chest twists.

Slowly, you move her body off you and sit up. You gather the shirt nearest to you, ironically her old shirt that she left behind, and pull it on.

You need to say it. You have to. You turn back to her and speak softly, but clearly. “That was a mistake.”

She stirs slowly, stretches out like a cat. One eye opens, her face unreadable at first. Then it shifts. Tightens. Her brow furrows.

“A mistake,” she repeats. 

You nod, standing, looking for your jeans. “We weren’t thinking straight. We were drunk, and—”

She cuts you off. “Oh, bullshit. Don’t do that. Don’t reduce it to a drunken mistake.”

You don’t answer.

She sits up fully now, blanket falling off her chest, exposing the skin you couldn’t keep your hands off just hours ago. Her voice sharpens, laced with that venom she saves only for when you strike a nerve.

“Maybe it wasn’t a mistake,” she snaps. “Maybe this happened because we’re supposed to be together.”

You freeze mid-step, half-dressed, heart hammering harder than it should.

She glares at you like she’s daring you to challenge her.

You want to. God, you need to.

But all the reasons, all the long fights and long silences, the nights you ate dinner alone while she stayed at the office, feel so far away now. They feel like someone else’s life.

“Agatha,” you say, trying to sound firm. “Don’t do this.”

She scoffs, shoves the blanket off and stands, fully nude, beautiful in a way that knocks the breath out of you no matter how angry you are. “You’re a coward,” she hisses. “You want me, you always have, but the second it gets complicated, you run.”

She storms into the bathroom, muttering something under her breath you can’t quite hear.

You let out a shaky exhale. You should let her go. Let her take that shower, calm down, and leave. You should hold your ground.

But then you look toward the bathroom… steam already fogging the cracked door. You see the silhouette of her moving inside. The curve of her waist, the dip of her spine as she turns toward the water.

And you crack. Just like she knows you would.

You pull your shirt off and drop it to the floor. The tile is cold under your feet as you step into the bathroom.

Agatha doesn’t look at you at first. She’s under the stream, eyes closed, head tilted back, water rolling down her shoulders. Then she senses you and looks at you and the look in her eyes makes you shiver. 

She doesn’t say a word.

You step in beside her, and she turns, slowly, pressing her wet body to yours. Her arms snake around your waist.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you whisper as you kiss her neck. 

“Sure,” she murmurs. 

And when your hand dips low and Agatha has to hold onto your shoulders to keep herself standing, as she moans right there and fuck don’t stop as you take her apart with a rhythm that makes her dizzy, a rhythm you’ve memorised and have never forgotten, you know you’re lying. Because it means everything. 

[dragoneyelashart]

oh girl i’m gonna NEED you to write something about drug dealer! billie and what she would do if we were taken hostage by a gang or smth

⭑ blurb.

⭑ drug dealer! billie when you get taken hostage

you’re slumped in a chair, arms bound behind your back with something rough, zip ties, maybe. the air smells like damp concrete and cheap cologne.

you can hear them before you see them.

“bro, i’m tellin’ you, this was a power move.”

“nah, this was stupid,” the other one snaps. “you know who she belongs to, right?”

“yeah, and that’s exactly why it’s a power move.”

you keep your head down, breathing slow. listening. waiting.

the one on the left, jittery voice, keeps pacing. you can hear his boots scrape the floor. he’s nervous. scared, even.

the other one? smug. too smug. probably the dumbass who came up with this brilliant idea.

“when carver hears about this? eilish is done. done. we’ve been chasin’ her for months, and now we’ve got her little plaything tied up like a christmas gift.”

carver.

you’ve heard the name before. whispers. one of those low-level types trying to climb the ladder by taking bigger swings than he should.

and he just swung at billie.

“she’s not gonna do shit,” smug guy says. “you know how many enemies she’s got? she won’t even know it’s us.”

“she’ll know,” you say before you can stop yourself. voice cracked, dry. “she’ll know exactly who.”

the door creaks again. heavier footsteps now. boots, not sneakers. slower, more deliberate. whoever it is wants you to know they’re coming.

and then he’s there.

carver.

he walks in like he’s already won, like this room belongs to him. crisp black coat. rings too shiny. smug little smirk like he’s about to monologue.

his eyes land on you.

he grins.

“so this is the famous girl,” he says, voice low, taunting. “you don’t look like much. but i guess billie’s always had shit taste outside of business.”

he leans in, too close. the stink of his cologne hits you like poison.

“she’s not gonna save you, you know. she’s too busy running scared now. empire slipping. name fading. figured if she’s gonna lose, i might as well take a trophy on my way up.”

you stare back, dead in the eyes. you don’t give him the flinch he wants.

you don’t have to.

because the sound behind him changes everything.

that soft, unmistakable click.

carver stops talking.

turns.

billie’s already inside, gun hanging lazy at her side.

calm. cocky. a slow smirk curling at the edge of her mouth like she’s been waiting for this moment all week. hoodie half-off one shoulder, chain catching the light.

she looks bored.

“you’re talkin’ a lot for someone with dogshit aim,” she says.

carver scoffs. “you brought a gun? all i wanted to do was talk baby,”

billie laughs.

“nah,” she says, lifting the gun, pointing it dead between his eyes, “i'm not and will never be your baby.”

the room goes dead quiet.

she finally looks at you, just for a second. her expression doesn’t change, but something burns behind her eyes.

“get the fuck away from her,” she says, without looking at carver now, because she knows he’ll obey

he tries to talk, tries to spin something smart, but it’s too late. the barrel is already pressed to his cheek.

“you touched her,” she says.

her voice isn’t loud. it’s not a scream.

it’s low. cold. furious.

“you really thought you could use her to get to me?” she shakes her head. “that’s not how this works.”

you don’t even notice the other two idiots in the corner until one of them moves.

bang.

the sound cracks through the room like thunder.

he drops.

billie doesn’t even blink.

“next one goes through your fucking skull,” she tells carver, gun shifting slightly.

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @chrissv4mp @peytonneilish @too-sapphic-to-function @thebluediner @aka-persephone @vijaxx @thinkshespretty @cantlandonmyfeet @emi-inspace @karaeilish | link to be added to my taglist !

[tan1shere]

Naked

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: this is for this post ! I hope this is good with what I can do babe !! <33

Summary: you had to shop for a wedding, but distractions, distractions. Distractions.

Warnings: soft dom billie, smut, public sex kinda ?? Mirror sex ???

Masterlist

Weddings had been a thing recently, and this was a special one. Finneas and Claudia's big day. You were obviously Claudia's bridesmaid, and nothing about this wedding is at all traditional which is what you loved about them. Claudia has a color theme and has let the bridesmaids pick their own dresses. Billie is on Finns side and she was so happy.

Few weeks earlier

"This is so exciting, I still can't believe it's a few months away." You beam, taking a sip of your drink. "We wanted to ask you both something." You and Billie nod for her to continue, when Finneas speaks up. "Billie, I want you to be my best m- woman?" Billies eyes widened. "Really?" He nods. "Why so surprised it was always going to happen." He says as she flies into his arms for a hug. "I just figured since I am female I'd be on Claudia's side." - "I knew you wouldn't mind being on the mens side." Billies face was filled with so much joy. "And Y/n." Claudia begins. "Would you do the honors of being one of my bridesmaids?" You nod vigorously. "Yes ofcourse!"

You all have a drink to toast the occasion, all happy and excited for this wedding.

"Should I go with a black suit or spice things up?" She contemplates outloud. "Did Finn say anything specific?" She shakes her head. "Whatever you think babe, you'll look hot and powerful either way." You smile at her as she smirks. "Yeah?" The color scheme was golds and browns. So either a gold or brown dress for you. As you browse you see this lovely in between color, it was absolutely perfect. You grab it going to go try it on. Meanwhile, Billie had found a few suits. "I'm so excited and so glad he asked."

You laugh a little. "You're his family ofcourse he would." Once it was on, you go out and into the stall next to you, the one Billie was in. You make sure that she isn't exposed as you open the curtain, spotting her in the pants and the white shirt that's loosely on her. She looked so good. "Wow.." You say from behind her, causing her to turn around. She looks at you, up and down. "Shit." She then says. "That fits you, really. Really well." She says trailing off. You blush and push her arm to get her focused again. "Put all of yours on I wanna see."

She does turning around and getting your reaction. "You look so good, how will I be able to resist on the night." She chuckles. "I could say the exact same thing for you because fuck. Oh wait I just had the perfect idea!" She then says leaving you in there. You stand there dumbfounded. But she comes back soon after with a tie in hand, almost identical to your dress color. You smile wide as she goes to put it on. "Uh-huhhh." She says proudly. "Matching." You smile at her enthusiasm.

"We do look good." You say standing next to her. She looks at you through the mirror. "You look so yum." She breathes. Her choice of wording makes you stiffen, feeling your cheeks heat up. "Billie." You blush more. She looks around for a moment, pulling the curtain across. Grabbing the stools that were in there and putting them against it so it would stay put. "What're you-" You question but her lips are on yours, hands on your waist. They move lower to your thighs. Letting her right hand move under the slit of your dress. You pull back out of breath.

Kissin and touchin when we in public.

"Are you nuts?" You then say wide eyed. "For you in this dress, hell yeah." She leans in for another kiss but you put your finger to her lips. "Baby, we are in public!" She smirks down at your worry. "Probably best you keep quiet this time then." Your eyebrow raises. "I sense a challenge within that statement." She shrugs, a smug look on her face. "I'm not that loud!" You whisper yell. Her head just tilts as you say that. "Babe, the neighbors know my name and I don't even know theirs." You roll your eyes.

I know you love it.

"Uhmm, your pretty well known that could be why?" She tries not to laugh. "Shes a little old lady. She don't know me baby." You glare at her. "If you don't think you can be quiet we can just wait til we get home or even in the car-" "Nah nah nah, I see what you're doing." She smirks again. "Is it working?"She asks. You grab her by the collar. "Yes." She kisses you back almost instantly as your lips crash back onto hers. Everything was heated but you had to remember to stay quiet, and the fact that you were in public. "Think you can do it?" She smirks, going to kiss your neck.

You breathe out when She does. "Yup." She spins you around in her arms, getting you to look in the mirror. Her hand sliding to your exposed thigh, moving that hand up. Further. And further. Till her finger was dipping past your underwear and straigh to your entrance. As a finger dips in, her lips go to your ear. Whispering. "I just wanna see you naked." She was making this harder for you to stay quiet. You bite your lip suppressing any noise that could slip. "Good girl, stay quiet. You got it." She whispers again.

That pussy feels like, droptop in the rain.

Her hot breath driving you mental as her finger quickens it's pace. "Bills.." You whisper, she knows you're struggling to handle it. "Dont crack now." Your hand grips her arm tightly. Wanting to curse so badly. Your head lulls back on her shoulder as her fingers deepen. Your head spins, trying extra hard to stay silent. "God." You mumble, it was getting trickier as someone was heard in the stall next to you. "Didn't know that was one of the nicknames you called me." She whispers again, but abruptly stopping when you arch your back. Your ass, poking into her.

She lets out a sharp breath into your ear. You didn't do it on purpose, but she wanted to push you further. Her thumb slips in aswel, heading straight for that button that when is pressed sends you feral. Your clit. Your head lifts back up to look at her through the mirror silently pleading for her to ease up. She circles it firmly, causing your mouth to hang open. She was down right nefarious. And she wasn't stopping till you had her hand dripping with her work. Your head spins as she speeds up both movements. Moving her other hand up to your neck.

She wraps her hand around it loosely, but as soon as you arch your back again she tightens that same hand as a warning. Was she the one going to break and make a noise? You kinda wanted to test it. But as you go to, that grip tightens more around your throat. You bite your lip, harder this time. And silently you give her a look in the mirror that you wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. That just makes her speed up, to get you to that sweet release. She cups your pussy as you eventually cum. Making sure there was no evidence. She slowly pulls them out, bringing them to her lips. You really were yum. She straightens out your dress again, fixing your hair too.

"These are the ones." She says.

[ncsdlr]

Hard and Soft

Billie Eilish x Reader

———————————————

Billie’s palms were flat on the mattress, knees spread, ass high.

Still in the mesh top from her set, hair a messy halo from being pulled onstage and then again—harder—when you slammed her into the wall ten minutes ago.

“Look at you,” you rasp, dragging the silicone head of your strap through the slick mess between her thighs. “World tour headliner, huh? All that power on stage and now you’re drooling for it like a bitch in heat.”

Billie whimpers. Doesn’t say a word. Just arches back into you, hips twitching, desperate.

Your hand tangles in her damp blonde hair, yanking her head back. “You want it, baby?”

She nods fast, gasping, “Please—please, I’ve been so fucking good, I swear—”

“You have been good,” you purr, lips brushing her ear. “Took all those compliments like a cockslut. Smiled through every photo. And now?” You slap her ass, and she moans. “Now you get your reward.”

You slam into her in one stroke, brutal and unforgiving. Billie’s cry rips out of her throat, raw and needy, her fingers bunching the sheets like they’re the only thing tethering her to the earth. Your free hand wraps around her throat, squeezing—not tight, just enough to remind her who she belongs to.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” you growl into her neck. “Like this pussy’s mine. Say it, Billie.”

“Y-yours,” she whimpers, voice strangled around your grip. “I’m yours, please don’t stop—ohmygod—please—”

You start pounding into her harder, your grip on her hair tightening just enough to make her cry out. Her body jerks with each thrust, breath catching, tears threatening to fall. And you love it—love how wrecked she gets for you.

“You look so pretty like this,” you murmur against her ear. “Fucked out, crying on my cock. You were made for this. Made for me.”

And Billie?

She just takes it.

Whining, shaking, begging for more with every thrust—like a song only you get to sing.

Billie’s thighs are trembling now, each stroke hitting deep, angled perfectly into that spot that makes her eyes roll back and her mouth fall open in a silent scream. Your hand is still tight in her hair, keeping her head arched back, throat exposed like she was made to be owned.

“You’re gonna come on my cock like this,” you hiss, voice low and dangerous. “So fucking messy and full. You hear me?”

She nods, sobbing out, “Yes, yes—please, I’m close, I—fuck—”

You let go of her hair just to press her face down into the mattress, grinding your hips deeper. “Then come for me, slut. Right now. I wanna feel it.”

Billie screams into the sheets, body locking up, back arching as her orgasm hits hard—violent, like a wave crashing and sucking her under. Her legs nearly give out, but you hold her steady, still thrusting, riding her through every twitch and sob of it.

“Good girl,” you pant, watching her fall apart. “That’s it, baby. So fucking good for me.”

But you don’t stop.

You don’t stop.

Because she’s still clenching around you, and she’s soaked, dripping onto your thighs, and you know she can take more. Wants more.

Billie whines into the pillow, voice hoarse. “W-wait, I—”

“No,” you murmur, dragging your nails down her spine. “You’re not done. One more.”

She turns her head, eyes glossy, lashes damp. “I can’t—”

“You can,” you say, and kiss the back of her neck. “You will.”

And with that, you fuck into her again—harder this time. Filthy, deep, like you’re splitting her open with every stroke. Her moans get louder, desperate, broken, and you’re right there, whispering filth into her ear:

“You like being used like this? Just a pretty little thing for me to fuck raw?”

“You were so confident earlier. Where’s that attitude now, Billie?”

“You want to cry, baby? Go ahead. Cry for me while I ruin you.”

Her second orgasm crashes faster. She barely has time to warn you before she’s screaming again, body shaking like she’s unraveling completely, drooling into the sheets as her muscles seize.

You finally slow down, hips still moving in slow, shallow thrusts, keeping her full.

She’s trembling, a wreck under you.

And you’re not done with her yet.

You reach up gently, brushing her damp hair from her cheek and coo, “Color, baby?”

She blinks, eyes unfocused but shining. “Green,” she whispers, voice cracked. “Fuck—green.”

You smile.

“Good girl.”

You pull out slow, and Billie whines, hips lifting like her body’s begging to be filled again. But you hush her gently, pressing a kiss to her lower back as you reposition her.

“C’mere, baby. On your side for me,” you whisper, guiding her carefully. She lets you move her, pliant and wrecked, collapsing against the pillows with her thighs still sticky from the last round.

You pulling her close, then lift one of her legs up—settling her ankle onto your shoulder. The angle opens her up perfectly, slick folds glistening in the low hotel light. You slide the strap through her folds teasingly, making her shiver.

But your eyes catch something else—the ink.

That dragon coiled across her hip, stretching just beneath her ass.

“Fuck,” you mutter, hand tracing the lines slowly. “This tattoo should be illegal. You know that?”

Billie giggles breathlessly. “Y-you like it?”

“I’m obsessed with it,” you say, leaning in to kiss it—slow, reverent. “It’s so hot. Makes me wanna mark you up with more than just ink.”

She moans, tilting her hips back into you. “Then do it.”

That’s all the invitation you need.

You push in again, slower this time, deeper—letting her feel every inch. Billie gasps, hand flying to your thigh to steady herself. Her leg trembles on your shoulder, and her back arches as the toy sinks in to the hilt.

“Ohmygod—” she gasps. “That’s—fuck, that’s deep—”

“Yeah?” You thrust once, hard enough to knock the air out of her. “That dragon’s watching me ruin you, baby. Watching me make you mine.”

She sobs, hands gripping the sheets again.

You start fucking her—deep and steady, one hand gripping her waist, thumb brushing the edge of that dragon, like you’re worshipping both the art and the girl it belongs to.

“You feel that?” you pant. “How perfect your pussy takes me?”

Billie nods frantically, barely able to breathe, tears forming in her eyes again. Her face is flushed, lips parted, leg shaking where it’s propped on you.

“You’re mine tonight, Billie,” you growl, slowing the pace just to grind against her g-spot. “Say it. Out loud.”

“I’m y-yours,” she chokes out, voice wrecked. “I’m yours, please don’t stop—please—”

You don’t.

You can’t.

Not when she looks like that—tattoo shining with sweat, body shaking with need, and her voice cracking around every praise-dripping cry.

Your pace starts to build—thrusts harder, deeper, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing off the hotel walls. Billie’s a mess, tears welling, mascara streaking down her flushed cheeks, and all she can do is hold on. You’ve got her leg hooked high, strap buried to the hilt, and her pussy’s so wet it’s obscene—you’re dripping with her.

“Fuck, listen to you,” you growl, hand sliding up her front, slow and dangerous. “So loud for me. You want the whole fucking floor to know who’s making you feel this good?”

She gasps, tries to speak—but the second your fingers curl around her throat, her voice dies into a helpless moan.

“Use your words, Billie.”

“I—yes,” she chokes out, hips twitching, eyes rolling back. “Want everyone to know—fuck—please, choke me—”

“Oh, baby,” you coo, tightening your grip. “Say that again. Slower.”

She turns her head just enough to meet your eyes, pupils blown wide, and whimpers, “Please choke me. I wanna feel it—wanna feel you owning me.”

Your hand closes around her throat, firm and sure, your thumb pressing into the soft spot beneath her jaw. Her breath catches—not panic, not pain, just perfect pressure. You’re watching her, studying every twitch, every breath, every blink to make sure she’s good.

“You like being mine like this?” you growl, your hips snapping forward hard.

Billie screams, voice cracked. “Yes! Yes, I’m yours, please don’t stop, I’m—*fuck—I’m gonna come—”

You squeeze her throat a little tighter.

“Then come for me,” you whisper darkly. “Come with my cock inside you, my hand on your throat, and my name in your mouth.”

That’s it.

Her whole body locks, muscles tight, her orgasm ripping through her like lightning. She sobs your name, body convulsing around the strap as she completely unravels—loud, broken, shaking. Her leg slips off your shoulder but you hold her steady, arm around her waist as she rides it out.

You ease up on her throat the second she cries out, rubbing her neck gently, grounding her. “You’re okay, baby,” you murmur, kissing her shoulder, her temple. “I got you. Just breathe for me.”

She melts into your touch, panting, flushed, her eyes fluttering closed as you kiss the sweat off her skin.

“Green?” you whisper, checking her face.

Billie nods, dazed and glowing. “Green,” she breathes, then adds with a soft laugh, “So fucking green.”

You flip her gently—one hand on her hip, the other cradling her head so she doesn’t hit the pillow too hard. Billie moans, limp and glowing, letting you spread her out flat beneath you.

“You’re still green, huh?” you ask, dragging your fingers down her ribs.

She nods fast, lip caught between her teeth. “So green. Wanna feel you again—please—”

You settle between her legs, spreading her thighs wide, and she gasps as you slide the strap back in—slow, thick, deliberate. She’s so sensitive now that her whole body shakes, nails clawing at the sheets.

“Look at me,” you say, cupping her jaw. Her eyes flutter open—blown, glossy, devoted.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” you murmur. “Flat on your back, legs open, taking my cock like it’s your only purpose.”

Billie moans, head tipping back, but you don’t let her look away.

“No,” you growl. “Keep your eyes on me.”

You press her thighs back, folding her in half. Your strap slides in deeper now, rubbing every inch of her ruined pussy, and Billie’s breath stutters like she might come from just that stretch alone.

You slam into her harder—and this time, you pin her throat again.

Not too tight. Just enough.

“You feel that, baby?” you pant, rocking into her harder. “You’re fucking dripping. Making a mess on me. This is what you wanted, right?”

“Yes,” she cries. “I wanted it—wanted *you—*fuck, please don’t stop—”

“You’re not gonna come yet,” you snarl, choking her just enough to make her eyes flutter. “You’re gonna stay right there until I say.”

She lets out a guttural, needy noise—somewhere between a sob and a moan.

And you watch her.

You watch her writhe, arch, beg. You watch her pupils shake. You feel her walls clench around the toy like her body’s begging for release.

But she won’t come. Not yet. Not until you give her permission.

You lean in close, lips brushing hers. “Hold it for me, Billie,” you whisper. “Be a good girl and hold it. Can you do that?”

Tears stream down her cheeks as she nods, trembling. “Y-yes—fuck—yes, I’ll be good—please, please—”

And you smile.

“Then earn it.” And she does. So she comes hard. Shaking and crying on your cock. Cursing out your name.

Billie’s chest is heaving, mascara streaked down her cheeks, thighs twitching around your waist as you keep thrusting into her. She just came. Again. And again. And she’s still pulsing around you like her pussy doesn’t know it’s supposed to be done.

You don’t let up.

You don’t even slow down.

“Baby,” you pant, pressing your forehead to hers, “you’ve got more in you.”

She shakes her head—tries to—but it’s weak. Wrecked. Her voice comes out cracked, breathless:

“I-I c-can’t—I can’t—”

You kiss her tears, your thrusts slow but so deep they knock the breath from her lungs. Your hand slips between her legs, rubbing soft, cruel circles on her clit.

“Yes, you can,” you whisper darkly. “And you will. I said I’d make you come until your body gives out, and I don’t break promises.”

She screams, high-pitched and raw as her body arches again, legs kicking. She’s sobbing now, one hand weakly pushing at your shoulder but not really trying to stop you.

“Color, baby?” you murmur.

She gasps, tears slipping down the corners of her eyes.

Then she smiles through them.

“Green. Green. F-fuck me, don’t stop—please—”

You snarl and slam into her harder, your fingers never leaving her clit.

“That’s my good girl,” you growl. “So desperate. So fucking perfect when you cry like this. Keep coming for me, Billie. Come until you can’t fucking breathe.”

And her body gives in.

Another orgasm rips through her, loud and violent, her whole body seizing under you. Her thighs close in tight, her pussy fluttering around the strap, soaking both of you in another wave of slick.

But you don’t stop.

You don’t fucking stop.

You hold her still—legs trembling, arms too weak to fight—her mouth open in a silent scream as you fuck her through it, past it, into that sweet space where pleasure starts to blur with pain.

“Th-there’s—more?” she sobs.

You lean in close, licking the tears from her cheek.

“Oh, baby. You’re just getting started.”

Her body won’t stop trembling.

Tears are streaking down her face, and you’ve never seen anything more fucking gorgeous. She’s red-cheeked, soaked, twitching beneath you—glowing in submission.

She just came again, violently, for the fourth time, and her voice is nearly gone now.

“B-babe,” she sobs, legs kicking helplessly under your grip. “I c-can’t—I can’t—”

“You can,” you murmur, breath hot against her ear. “You’re gonna give me one more. Just one. Can you do that for me?”

She shakes her head, broken and messy. “No—*please—*it’s too much—”

“Color, Billie.” You pull back just enough to see her eyes, thumb wiping her tears.

Her bottom lip trembles.

“Green,” she whispers, voice thready. Then louder—desperate: “Green—fuck me—please—”

Your mouth crashes into hers, devouring her cry, and you fuck her like you own her. One hand pins both her wrists above her head, the other slips around her throat, your fingers tightening just enough to make her gasp. The strap slams into her, deep, relentless, the sound of your bodies slick and filthy and perfect.

Her eyes roll back. Her body tenses.

“That’s it, baby,” you growl against her neck. “One more. Come for me. Come with my cock buried in you and my name in your fucking lungs—”

“I’m coming—oh my God—I’m fucking coming—” she screams, voice breaking.

And then—

She shatters.

Her entire body locks, legs thrashing, mouth open in a silent sob. Her cunt spasms violently around the strap, soaking you both again, and her entire body quakes under the force of it.

She’s crying. She’s gasping. And she’s still saying your name, over and over, like a prayer.

And then—

She goes limp.

Chest heaving. Eyes fluttering.

She’s still conscious—but barely. Her body’s completely wrecked. Her thighs won’t stop twitching, and her lips are swollen from biting them through every scream.

You loosen your grip on her throat instantly, cupping her cheek.

“Billie,” you whisper, kissing her forehead. “You with me, baby?”

She breathes in deep—then lets out a soft, almost dreamy, “Y-yeah.”

You brush the hair from her damp face. “Color?”

She giggles. It’s weak, dazed—but real.

“Yellow,” she says, smile drunk. “Like… post-apocalyptic yellow. But like… a hot apocalypse.”

You laugh softly, pressing your forehead to hers. “Okay, that’s our stop, baby.”

You pull out gently—so, so gently—and she whimpers, clinging to you the second you do. You gather her into your arms, her body limp and shaking in your lap, and start pressing kisses along her collarbone, her cheek, her temple.

“You were so fucking good,” you whisper. “Took everything like a fucking dream. I’m so proud of you.”

“Y-you ruined me,” she breathes, voice completely destroyed.

You smile. “Yeah. And you loved it.”

She nods against your chest. “Mhm. So much. I never wanna move again.”

You start gently massaging her thighs, checking her pulse, helping her breathe through the aftershocks as she melts deeper into your hold.

She’s still breathing a little fast, skin flushed and dewy, body limp in your arms. But the moment you pull the comforter around her bare shoulders, she lets out the tiniest sigh—like a kitten crawling into warmth after a storm.

You stroke her hair, slow and rhythmic, tracing the curve of her ear, down to her jaw. Her eyes are closed, lashes still wet with tears, but she leans into every single touch like she’s chasing your hand.

“You okay, baby?” you murmur, brushing your thumb across her cheekbone.

She gives the smallest smile, voice hoarse but glowing. “I feel like pudding. In a microwave.”

You laugh, pressing your forehead to hers. “That good, huh?”

“So good,” she whispers. “You wrecked me. Like… ‘soul left the building’ wrecked me. And I think I liked it.”

You press a kiss to her temple, then her nose. “You were perfect. Every second. You gave me everything.”

You sit up just enough to reach for the water bottle on the nightstand, twisting the cap off and holding it to her lips.

She takes a few slow sips, eyes fluttering shut again. “You’re being sweet.”

“Damn right I am.” You set the bottle down and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I get to be soft now. I want to be soft now.”

You climb off the bed, ignoring how slick your thighs are, and scoop her up into your arms. She yelps weakly, hands gripping your shoulders.

“Babe—what are you—”

“Bath time,” you say with a grin. “You’ve earned it.”

——

The water’s warm. Gentle. Steam curling around the bathroom lights, low and dim. You sit in the tub with her curled between your legs, back resting against your chest, and the soft scent of vanilla-something filling the air.

Your hands move lazily over her arms, her thighs, her ribs. Rinsing her gently. Stroking her slowly. Worshipping the same body you just broke.

“You good?” you whisper again, your lips ghosting her damp shoulder.

“Mmm,” she hums, snuggling back into you. “Everything feels heavy. But like… good heavy.”

You smile. “Like floaty?”

“Like I could live in your arms forever floaty.”

You wrap your arms tighter around her, your lips pressed against her skin, and for a while—you both just breathe.

No commands. No begging.

Just two bodies soaking. Touching. Loving.

And when she finally starts to drift off in the tub, half-asleep against your chest, you whisper into her ear, “Let’s get you dried off, baby. Then I’ll put you in your comfiest shirt, tuck you into bed, and hold you all night.”

“Your shirt,” she mumbles.

“What?”

“I want your shirt.”

You smile into her damp hair.

“Done.”

—————————————

Aye brotha

[fxckingjo]

𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖇𝖆𝖉𝖑𝖞 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖓 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖒𝖊

supe!reader/soldier boy

title from 'i want someone badly' by jeff buckley

in which soldier boy discovers he's the only one immune to your lethal touch.

You don't know how this happened.

One minute, Butcher was ranting about the latest mission gone wrong, intercepted by some "Vought cunts" or whatever. You were only half-listening, which was probably your first mistake, but focusing on controlling your powers is half the battle from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to bed. You're an unstable wildcard, but because of your... unique skillset, Billy Butcher decided you're more valuable alive than dead.

"We've got a new weapon to take that Homelander fuck right off the board—"

All it took was that one statement to bring him out of the backroom, white powder dribbling from his nose, blunt tucked behind his ear. You hear his thoughts before you see him, and the sound of his voice, gruff and loud and so, so very masculine, sends a chill down your spine. You wonder if he sounds the same out loud as he does in his mind.

Gonna kill the british one first, the prick. I ain't nobody's soldier—

Nice ass, sweetheart.

Who the hell is she?

"Soldier Boy, back from the dead."

Soldier Boy? You know Soldier Boy because of his memorial, or his reputation as a very dead American hero. This man is very much alive, and he's standing way too close to you.

There's a rule, you see, to surviving your abilities. Don't touch. Never, ever touch. Skin to skin turns optional telepathy into a mind-melting deep dive. When someone touches you, you drown inside their thoughts, and the harder they hold, the quicker you sink.

Until their brain goes...

Well, let's just say Victoria Neuman isn't the only supe who can blow people's heads up.

The difference is she can control it. You, on the other hand? Long sleeves and gloves for days. Using clothes to build a psychic wall. There's a reason Vought had you on lockdown before Starlight and Butcher got you free.

"Who's the babe?" Soldier Boy asks, lighting his blunt. A puff of marijuana wafts into your face. You cough.

You tell him your name, nose scrunched with disgust.

"Your new sidekick," Butcher informs him calmly. "The pair of you are the two most dangerous supes on the street, which means we'll be keeping you together until we can ice the caped cunt."

You protest first. "I'm not a goddamn sidekick!"

Soldier Boy adds, "And I sure as shit don't work for you."

The protests don't matter. The simple fact is that Butcher has enough on both of you to make this a matter of a vested interest, so you swallow your anger and pride down deep and face the music.

Then it happens.

You're sitting at the table cleaning your gun, because the monotony of taking it apart and scrubbing it inch by inch helps you feel grounded. Safe if Vought comes knocking. No gloves, because it's the only way to get in all the nooks and crannies.

Soldier Boy watches, and then he makes one, earth-shattering move. "You're doing that wrong, doll. Here—"

He grabs your hand.

Time stands still.

You jerk your arm free, dropping the piece of the gun and polish onto the table. You pull your gloves on as fast as you can, shocked, desperately looking at him. "Why would you do that?!"

Soldier Boy frowns, his eyebrows raised high above his emerald eyes. "Sorry, dollface. Didn't know you were so touchy."

"It's not touchy!"

Butcher's jaw is wound tight, but surprise flits through his internal monologue. "That's not bloody possible."

"Can someone speak fuckin English? The hell is goin on?" Soldier Boy demands. "Someone start fucking talking."

Hughie blinks a few times. "She... Well..."

"Spit it out!"

"People can't touch me!" you exclaim. "It's hard to explain but—"

Butcher answers for you. "Any cunt without the sense to back off her gets his gourd popped like a party balloon."

"So what? No one can touch you? Ever?"

You shake your head. "They tested it a thousand times. Vought. Supes they didn't like, staff they wanted to dispose of. Every single time, I'd get sucked in and then..."

Butcher snaps his fingers. The asshole.

"Nothing happened when I touched you," Soldier Boy remarks.

"Maybe it wasn't long enough?" Hughie supposes.

Soldier Boy grabs your arm again. Firm enough to keep you from moving, but not hard enough to hurt you. His fingers push up your sleeve, wrapping around your bare wrist. A second passes. Then another. You can hear his thoughts if you focus, but you're not sinking. You're not getting lost. He's not screaming in pain.

You can't speak. Can't form words. The room is silent, watching in horror as the scene unfolds.

"Fuck," he says, finally letting go. "This could come in handy one day."

"Don't do that again!" you snap, finding your voice.

Soldier Boy leans in, real close. "Next time, doll, you'll be begging me to touch you."

Series Masterlist

[ledesaid]

Billy gives shazam powers to Jon kent

╦╦╦╦╦╦╦╦╦╦╦╦╦╦╦╦╦╦╦

Billy: Jon, Jon! You have to see this!

It's not how he expected to wake up on a Saturday morning, but opens the window of his room anyway.

Billy: Give me your hand!

Jon: Wait... what?

Billy: Come on, don't waste time!

Jon extends his arm and Billy grabs it with all his strength. Jon doesn't feel much really, but tries to pull away when he hears him say that word...

Billy: SHAZAM!

Alive. Jonathan is alive. Thank heavens! That trick of Billy's would have electrocuted anyone else.

Billy: HOLLY MOLY! Look at you, Jon!

Jon: Buddy, magic hurts Kryptonians, why...?

Billy pushes his friend towards the bathroom mirror as best as he can. It's instant.

Jon: Billy! Why do I look like my dad?!

Billy: It's you, only now you're in your adult version's body. Do you know what that means?

His friend keeps looking at himself in the mirror in awe... he seemed to be over twenty years old.

Jon: Do I have to shave with kryptonite?

Billy: No! Now we can go to the Indianapolis 500. In the front row!

Jon: But we can't go without an adult... and the League has forbidden you from going as The Captain.

Billy: But now you're the adult! Grab something to cover your costume and let's go.

Jon: Don't rush me, buddy. This is my mom's closet, it's an art.

Billy: You just need to find your dad's trench coat.

Jon: Billy, my mom will figure out I went through her closet. She's a detective and she'll definitely notice!

Half a kilo of luggage and a few dollars spent later...

Billy is throwing up his dinner after sneaking into one of the vehicles. Luckily, Jon rescues him from the security office and they return to Metropolis.

Batman issues a statement that same afternoon looking for someone alarmingly similar to Superman. The notes theorize about a new clone.

---

@youngbounty

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

the power of love. ( max thunderman x reader)

gif belongs to me

Strange things were happening in Hiddenville and Phoebe was determined to figure out what caused it. It all started at breakfast one Saturday morning when Max spent a little longer on his hair - something she didn't think was possible. On the weekends he usually slept in but her twin's sleeping habits were the least of her concerns as he left the house just after nine am with a backpack that he had kept over his shoulder after he made himself toast instead of stealing it from someone else's plate.

When he returned in time for dinner, his mood only seemed to have improved. Everyone was stunned when he took plates from their mother, saying, "Let me help with that," and for a brief moment, Phoebe wondered if her twin was replaced with an alien.

A short while after dinner, as he did a few nights a week, Hank continued their training sessions and Phoebe noticed how much attention he was paying to their father, for once not making jokes, just standing with his arms crossed, appearing to be listening intently.

The next day Max stayed in his lair, only coming out for food which he took down to his bedroom. Phoebe began to speculate about where he went yesterday and why he hadn't come out of his room most of the day. When their mother called them for dinner, Max left his lair and Phoebe snuck inside, looking around at the dimly lit bedroom/lair for any clues as to what Max was doing - suspecting he was building a new device.

"There has to be something in here somewhere." She muttered.

"Talking to yourself again?" Dr. Colosso spoke up from his cage.

Ignoring the former supervillain, now rabbit, as she walked to one of the desks, noticing how tidy it was. She looked around the bedroom and realized it had been tidied - impressive considering she had never seen Max clean anything.

"He's definitely up to something." She sighed when her mother called her name and headed upstairs, joining the family at the dining table.

If Max felt her suspicious stare, he showed no signs, talking to Chloe who asked him where he went yesterday.

"The park?" Phoebe echoed in disbelief. "You went to the park?"

Max shrugged.

"You spent all day at the park?"

"Yeah, he just said that. Try to keep up." Billy told her.

When Max finished his dinner he stunned the table into silence as he complimented his mother's cooking and noticed the stares he received when he carried his plate to the sink. "What?"

"Is he possessed?" Nora whispered to her father who was equally perplexed.

"What? I've put a plate in the sink before."

Everyone shook their heads except Phoebe who was more certain that he was up to something. Max took the slide down to his bedroom and while her father was distracted by the television and Nora and Billy were upstairs, Chloe sitting in the kitchen with their mother as she washed the dishes, Phoebe snuck into the lair which was in darkness. She flicked on a light and quickly noticed her brother was nowhere to be found. She climbed onto the rock when she saw the window was open slightly, allowing him to come and go as he pleased.

"Max!" She grumbled, growing more certain that he was up to something.

On Monday morning she woke up early, preparing to confront her twin about what he was doing on their way to school, but he was already gone. Phoebe hadn't expected to see him at school, believing he was ditching for the day, but Max was standing with his friends, typing on his phone. The curve of his lips made her uneasy. He was up to no good. She could feel it.

The opportunity to confront him didn't come until later that night when they finished their training session with their father and she followed her twin into the kitchen, crossing her arms as he took a sip of water.

"What?"

"I will figure it out." She warned.

"Okay…figure out what exactly?" Max asked.

"Whatever you're up to. I can feel it, you're sneaking out of the house and I will find out where you go, Max."

Max chuckled, "Wow, you are really paranoid."

"Ah-ha! So you are up to something!" She pointed at him, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know what you think I've done or what I'm doing but I am completely innocent." He said, holding his head higher. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have totally innocent things to do in my room."

He sipped his water as he walked down the stairs into his bedroom and Phoebe realized that it was the first time she could recall him ever calling his lair a bedroom - used to him arguing that it was a villain's lair where he was set on becoming a supervillain.

She opened the hatch quietly, hearing his voice carry up the slide as he spoke to someone.

"It's not that I don't want to see you - I do! My sister is getting suspicious and I'll lay low for a while until she forgets about it." He paused as the person on the other end of the phone spoke, answering when they were done. "Tomorrow? Sure!"

Phoebe frowned as she closed the hatch. "What are you planning, Max?" She whispered.

The next morning Phoebe did not want to risk Max sneaking off again and woke up early, racing after him when he left for school early and kept a safe distance, hiding behind trees or newspaper stands when he glanced over his shoulder.

He was definitely up to something, given how cautious he was.

Phoebe followed her twin to the high school which was almost deserted at this time aside from one or two teachers. She followed him inside and hid while Max looked around, and Phoebe hid behind a vending machine as his phone chimed.

A smile formed on his lips and he looked at the stairs, beginning to climb them two at a time when a girl appeared around the corner. Max's smile softened as he stood two steps below her, matching her height.

"Hey,"

"Sorry for all the smoke and mirrors." You placed a hand on his shoulder and Max shook his head.

"I understand. Really, I do. You have no idea."

You smiled softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your head in his shoulder as his arms embraced your waist, lifting you briefly. You placed a hand on his cheek as your feet touched the ground, and Phoebe was stunned when you kissed her brother.

Was this his plan? Some kind of love potion?

Your bracelet beeped and you sighed as you pulled away, sending Max an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Duty calls."

"I'll see you later?" He asked hopefully.

You nodded, "I think I'm getting the hang of using a cell phone." You stepped forward to kiss him passionately one last time before running up to the second floor, while Max sighed, hooking his thumbs in the straps of his backpack.

Phoebe stepped out as he turned and his eyes widened when he saw his sister, her expression telling him all he needed to know.

"What are you doing here?"

"I followed you, Max." She explained. "I knew you were up to something. Who is she? A daughter of a supervillain?"

Max shook his head, descending the staircase, "No, and I can't tell you. Just leave it alone, Phoebe. It's better that way."

He walked away and she shook her head as she turned to watch him go. The lights began to flicker, the ground trembling for a few seconds, and she missed the smirk on her twin's lips as he headed to his locker. Phoebe decided to chase after you and demand to know what you were doing with her brother. But all the doors were locked - except one.

She climbed the short staircase to the rooftop and her eyebrows furrowed when she saw no one was there. Deciding to use the extra time before class to check her essay for the fifth time, Phoebe headed to the library, writing in her notebook about the encounter in the hallway.

Max hadn't said your name so she simply documented you as 'the girl from the stairs'. What she couldn't figure out is, was Max tempting you to the dark side or were you pulling him further away from his superhero family and taking him one step closer to his dreams of becoming a supervillain?

That night she waited for Max to sneak out of his window to meet you but he never did. She wondered what happened to change his plans and if he told you that she knew.

The next day passed by uneventfully. Max didn't leave early for school and Phoebe began to question if the plans you had made were called off when she saw Max leaving his lair and raced after him. Tonight she would get to the bottom of it. She was sure of it.

Phoebe was confused as to where her twin was going until he entered the park and realized he had circled around several times in case she was following.

"It's going to take more than that, Max." She muttered as she kept a certain amount of distance between them.

Max approached a statue and you crept up behind him with a smile when his back was turned, and Phoebe was not surprised by your ability to fly, creating enough height to cover his eyes with your hands.

"Guess who?"

"Uh, Wonder Woman?"

You laughed as you removed your hands. "Very funny."

Max turned as you landed on the ground and you smiled when he placed a hand on your cheek, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw the healing bruise on your head.

"What happened?"

"He caught me by surprise. It won't happen again. Although he finally discovered which metal slows my advanced healing ability, it still heals faster than non-superheroes like you." You turned your head to kiss his palm before meeting his concerned gaze. You heard the sound of stones crunching and moved away, looking around alertly. "Someone is here."

Max looked around the park and knew if it was your archnemesis he would have attacked by now, and quickly deduced whose footsteps you heard.

"Phoebe." He grumbled.

You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend, "Who is Phoebe?"

"My twin sister," Max called for her to reveal herself and you looked between the twins warily. "I told you not to follow me!"

"I had to stop you from joining them." Phoebe held her ground and you glanced at Max.

"What did you tell her?"

"Nothing!" He turned to his sister, "Phoebe, get out of here!"

Your back straightened when your archnemesis appeared behind Phoebe and you pushed her aside, taking the brunt of his heat blast. "Look out!"

You recovered quickly, performing several back handsprings and turning your body slightly, fists clenched as your civilian clothes changed into your superhero outfit.

"Max, take your sister and get her to safety."

Phoebe shook her head, "No, we can -" Max covered her mouth as he pulled her behind the statue as you faced off against the supervillain. "Okay, what is going on?"

Max revealed your superhero name and explained to a stunned Phoebe that you met in Metroburg when he had ditched school to spend the day there and used your shield to protect him from a supervillain's power. You assumed he was a non-superhero and Max was too stunned at the time to correct you, leading him to continue the charade that he had no powers throughout your relationship.

The twins felt the ground shake when you took off into the air and weakened the supervillain with your powers until he lassoed you, the electric shocks causing you to fall to the grass.

"We have to do something!" Phoebe exclaimed.

"I know! I know! Just stay here!"

Max stepped out from behind the statue with the knowledge you could end your relationship for what he was about to do. He believed you enjoyed dating a non-super, someone who could teach you how to use a cell phone or go to the movies with you, teaching you how to blend into a crowd. Max used his knowledge of Hiddenville to give you an escape, even if it was only for a few hours.

"Hey, what's up big guy?" You looked at your boyfriend as you flinched from the shockwaves pulsing through your body.

"Max, run!"

He sent your archnemeses back a few feet using a telekinetic blast and released the lasso around you with his telekinesis. You moved to stand beside him, his twin flanking his other side.

"You have powers?"

"I'm the son of Thunderman." He explained.

Your eyes widened at the revelation, but your attention was drawn to the supervillain getting to his feet.

"You ever fought a supervillain before?" You asked.

"We did help capture Dark Mayhem," Phoebe answered.

You glanced at the twins, your gaze lingering on Max, releasing a shaky breath as you nodded, accepting their help. "Fine."

"This is so awesome!" Max grinned. You swatted his arm and he cleared his throat. "Right, sorry."

You put up a forcefield around the three of you when your archnemeses blasted flames towards you. When he pulled back to try again Max and Phoebe froze his hands and you flew towards him, kicking his chest, knocking him to the ground. You felt a hand pull you back and rolled over Max's back, shielding him as he used his telekinesis to hit the supervillain with a dumpster.

You relaxed your stance when the supervillain was pinned to the ground with the weight of the dumpster and while Phoebe remarked about how easy that was, you put up your forcefield to block the fire spreading from his hands, melting the ice and propelling him into the air.

"Coward!" Phoebe called.

Max had heard enough about your archnemesis to know that he did not want his sister to anger the injured supervillain enough that he came back. He froze her with his freeze breath and you tapped your necklace, your civilian clothes returning - an invention Max had created to grant you less time to worry about a wardrobe change.

"So…" You began, "son of Thunderman…yeah, you kept that quiet." You crossed your arms and looked at Phoebe who was beginning to thaw herself out before meeting his guilty gaze. "Why did you lie, Max?"

"You wanted to forget you were a superhero, and I liked that you didn't know I am the son of Thunderman." He sighed, "I would've told you, you know…eventually. But I just wanted you to know me for me, not my family."

You shook your head, opening your mouth to speak when Phoebe broke free and glared at her twin. You glanced between the two siblings, taking a step back. "Thanks, for all the help tonight." You sent them a small smile.

"Wait -" Max stepped forward and sighed when the ground rumbled as you shot into the sky. Phoebe frowned when she saw him close his eyes in quiet resignation.

The next day he spent his time at school before hiding away in his lair until it was time for another training session with their father. When it was over, Max leaned against the kitchen counter, checking his cell phone, his mood worsening when he saw he had no new messages.

As she observed her brother head to his lair, sulking as he took the stairs, Phoebe discovered the catalyst leading to his strange behavior. Falling for another superhero - a highly respected one despite your young age. She understood why he was changing his habits, and paying more attention to their father during training. She knew she was to blame for it falling apart, although she knew you would have found out about Max's powers on your own eventually, and decided to fix it.

Max was listening to music as he worked on his latest invention when he saw you at his window. He was surprised to see you and hastily climbed onto the rock, opening the window to let you in.

"Hey," You greeted with a timid smile.

"Hey," His eyebrows furrowed as he took in your civilian clothes. "what are you doing here?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, "You sent me a message asking me to come here. You had something to show me?"

"What? I never sent any message -" Max took out his cell phone from his jeans and grumbled his twin's name a few moments later.

You smiled in amusement, looking around his bedroom, and approaching his workbench. "What are you working on?"

"Uh," He scratched the nape of his neck as he followed you, "civilians have this thing called a smartwatch, so I gathered a few spare parts and tried to outdo it."

"Tried?" You sent him a knowing smile and Max grinned.

"And succeeded."

You listened as he put the watch on his wrist and showed you the features. You smiled fondly, feeling the atmosphere shift as he awkwardly set the watch down. "I'm sorry for disappearing like that it -"

"No, I get it." He shrugged off but you grabbed his hand and stopped him from turning away.

"No, you don't." You took a deep breath as you wet your lips, moving to sit on the foot of his bed. "I thought you were just a civilian. I didn't want to bring you into my life because I was afraid of putting you in danger." You clasped your hands on your lap as he sat beside you. "But you held your own. You were really great out there, Max."

Max smiled softly, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks." He cleared his throat, "We made a good team."

You giggled, nodding in agreement. "We did." You looked at your hands and Max wet his lips anxiously.

"I'm sorry for making you believe that I was a non-super." He apologized. "I wanted you to get to know me, so that when I did tell you the truth you weren't won over by my parents."

You shook your head, "I'm over it." You noticed the way his shoulders slumped slightly and quickly added, "No, not you! The fact you have powers. I'll never get over you."

At this, Max perked up and your eyebrows furrowed when music began to play before he could speak and looked over your shoulder as Max addressed the animal in the cage.

"Dr. Colosso?" You stood up and approached the rabbit in the cage on his workbench.

"Yeah, he was turned into a rabbit," Max explained. "And kind of my best friend."

"Kind of?" Colosso shrieked.

You looked at Max with a smile and he hushed the former supervillain who ranted about their friendship. "You are full of surprises."

Max chuckled, raising his arms, "That's me. Surpriso boy - wait, scratch that. Forget I ever said it."

You covered your mouth as you failed to suppress your giggles. "No, I don't think I can."

Max smiled when you leaned against his workbench as you caught your breath. "I'll invent something, don't worry."

You smiled softly when he tentatively raised his hand and stepped forward as he placed a hand on your cheek. "I must confess a secret of my own." You began, earning a curious raise of his eyebrow. "The reason I was so interested in the non-super world is because I wanted to connect with you. You know, when I thought you weren't a superhero."

Max's features lit up, "Really?"

You nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. "Can we start over? Well," You paused as you stepped closer, placing your hands on his chest. "not right from the start."

His other hand rose to your cheek as he exhaled a relieved breath, nodding distractedly, his eyes flickering to your lips. "Yeah, I'd - we should -"

You closed the gap between you and Max wrapped his arms around you, bringing your body closer as he kissed you passionately. You cupped his jaw in your hands, smiling against his lips as you melted into the kiss, matching his intensity.

Phoebe slowly closed the hatch and smiled to herself as she took a seat on the cushion. "The power of love." She whispered as she headed upstairs.