finished her book


can’t believe we’re blessed w Cheshire Michael!!!

BMC alice AU by @monosuga
Design by @sinisterspooks

English Assignment

Request: Can you do a imagine where the reader is a huge nerd and she’s Billy’s partner on a English project and well the both of them are at his place working she goes to his out to his car to grab a book she left in the backseat, passing his drunk dad on his way out of the house, and comes back to his room to see him crying and she knows because she’s been there (abused) and its just fluff of her comforting him and he wraps his arms around her frame holding on desperately and into cries her chest

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Warnings: Abuse, swearing, Billy’s asshole dad

Word Count: 1291

A/N: If anyone ever needs to talk please feel free to message me about anything. Thank you for the request. I have quite a few lined up to write over the next few days. Requests are open.

Prompt List


Originally posted by xananeedscoffee

English Literature was possibly Y/N’s favourite subject. She loved to read and write and was enthralled by the words which flowed on the page. Currently they were study Robert Louis Stevenson’s: The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. While it wasn’t one of her favourite books, Y/N loved the writing style and the narrative. Most of the class would disagree with her and would often call it boring or stupid. The only part of English that Y/N hated were the paired assignments. Teachers had a habit of pairing high achieving students with the kids who needed their grade to be pulled up somehow. While most of these kids were actually far from being dumb, they just lacked the motivation.

“Y/N L/N, you will be paired with Billy Hargrove.” The teacher read out and Y/N sighed.

She had never actually spoken to the newish boy but had heard all the gossip about him around school. A few girls at the back let out annoyed sighs as the teacher finished reading from the list and people began to get up to leave. Y/N took her time packing away; she was in no hurry to get to lunch.

“Hey.” Y/N looked up to find the source of the voice was her new English partner.

“Hey.” She replied as she finished packing away her books.

“I was wondering when you wanted to work on the project?” Billy asked with a small smile as he followed her out of the classroom. His voice was softer than the times she had heard him talking.

“Whenever is fine for you.” Y/N said with a small smile lifting the corners of her lips.

“You free tonight?”


“Alright, meet me outside after school and we can go to my place.” He smiled at her before walking off to meet his friends.

When the bell signalled the end of the day Y/N began to get really nervous. She packed up her biology books as quickly as she could and then made her way outside. Billy was already leaning up against the side of his Camaro with a cigarette between his lips. He dropped it, crushed it under the heel of his shoe and smiled as he saw her.

“Hey.” Y/N said as she walked over to him.

“Hey.” He smiled wider as he opened the door for her. She climbed in and he shut it for her. That was when Y/N noticed the younger redhead sat in the back.

“You must be Billy’s sister, I’m Y/N.”

“Step-sister. I’m Max.” The girl smiled. Billy climbed into the car and set off. “So, are you two…?” Max trailed off.

“Working on an English assignment.” Billy quickly shot back as Y/N started blushing. He shot a look over at her and smiled slightly as he put the radio on.

The rest of the drive was silent and they quickly reached the house. Y/N climbed out of the car and held the seat down for Max to climb out. The girl thanked her before quickly running inside the house. Y/N grabbed her backpack. She followed Billy up to the house and thanked him as he held the door open.

He showed her to his room. “You want anything to eat or drink?”

“Water please.” She smiled.

He left to get it and she surveyed his room. It was messy but not as much as she would have expected. There was a full ash tray on one of his sides and cologne and hair products on another. She perched herself on the edge of the bed before pulling out the assignment and her copy of Jekyll and Hyde.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” Billy said handing her the water as he came back into the room. The front door opened and then slammed shut and Y/N looked at him questionably. “It’s just my dad.”

They quickly set off working and Y/N was surprised with how much Billy actually contributed. They were making good progress but also talking about themselves in between. It actually turned out that the pair had quite a lot in common. Mainly their movie and music taste but they were becoming quick friends.

“Shit.” Y/N muttered looking through her bag.

“What?” Billy asked looking up at her from his position laying on the bed.

“I think my folder might have fallen out in your car.” Y/N explained.

“Here.” Billy smiled and threw her his keys. “Go look, I’ll finish this bit.”

She smiled back at him before quickly leaving to go to the car. She didn’t notice Billy’s dad sat in the living room as she walked past. The man quickly got to his feet and stumbled into his son’s room.

“You bringing your whores here now?” Neil Hargrove asked as his son shot of the bed.

“We’re doing an English assignment, sir.” Billy said.

In a flash Billy was pinned against his shelves; his father’s hands on his denim jackets sides. “You think I’m stupid.”

“Of course not.” Billy said before a fist connected with his cheek.

“Of course not, what?” Neil spat.

“Sir.” Billy muttered.

“That’s better.” Neil said before dropping Billy to the floor. Billy curled into himself.

Y/N passed Neil Hargrove in the hall and muttered a quick greeting that the man didn’t return. She walked into Billy’s room and dropped her folder to the floor as she saw Billy on the floor.

“Billy?” She muttered in shock.

“Shut the door and lock it.” Billy chocked out.

She did as he said before kneeling down in front of him on the floor. “Did… Did your dad…?” She stumbled over her words as she looked at the boy she had been laughing with minutes before, now crumbling on the floor.

Billy merely nodded. Like always the tears were beginning to run down his cheeks. Y/N moved closer to him and reached out her arms. He folded into her and buried his head in her chest; both his arms wrapped around her waist. She slid one arm around his back and threaded the other through his hair. She could feel his tears starting to dampen her shirt. She lost track of just how long they sat on the floor before he pulled away shakily.

“You should tell someone.” Y/N whispered.

“Like who? Who would actually care?” Billy chuckled humorously and brokenly.

“I would.” She murmured and his eyes shot up to meet hers. “You could tell Hopper.”

“I couldn’t.” He muttered before standing up and pulling her up with him. He started grabbing everything they had been using. “Let’s go someplace else.” He wiped a hand over his face as she helped him start to pick up books.

At the beginning of today, Billy Hargrove had been a stranger. Now she was determined to help him out of this living hell. 

so i think i mentioned how my entire junior class got to sit in our auditorium and listen to ruby bridges talk about racism for two hours yesterday, but i didn’t talk about one of the most powerful moments in the presentation?

so we got to the end–like, the last twenty minutes–and she asked for questions. and we had a few standard questions (”how do you feel about people taking their education for granted?” “what would you say to the people who stood outside and protested you going to school if you met them again?”) but there was this kid waiting in the question line fidgeting nervously. and everybody could see it?? when he finally got up to ask his question, he asked her about her opinion on the events on ferguson.

and she mentioned her sons again, who she talked about earlier in the presentation. and then she told us about her son who was murdered. and she talked about the mothers who had their children taken away and how if you took a life unjustly and forsake your role as a keeper of the peace, you should be punished. and then she talked about how everybody chooses a side in this thing; good and evil.

and then she said that racism today is scarier than it was to her when she was growing up.

and the entire junior class was silent.

we’ve established that julian is 110% slytherin so what about the other blackthorns?

“Coffee Shop Boy - Part 1″

AN // This wasn’t requested but like I offered y’all the option of a request and you picked this instead so really it’s on you guys that I haven’t been writing requests.

Requested // No

Request are open // Request here 

TW // none

I Never Wish To Be Parted From You From This Day On.

He’d been trying to write all day. He’d woken up motivated, or anxious, or both. You see he knew he had deadlines, knew “time off” was never meant literally, knew being home meant getting work done at home and now? Now he knew that getting work done at home was near impossible when his family were staying with him. Don’t get me wrong, he loves his family more than anything, when asked about what he does in his free time his answer is almost always about how he likes being home with his family. However being home with his family does have it’s downsides. Like how the mothers meetings that happen in his living room always seem to end up being about which one of them has an eligible daughter for him to settle down with or how he can never just get a quiet moment to himself. Yes, he adores his family, but sometime he just needs a minute alone and that wasn’t looking likely in his house full of voices. So he picked up his brown journal, a pen and his car keys, left his mother a fleeting kiss on the cheek and went to look for any quiet place he could find.

I guess that’s how he ended up here. This small coffee shop that smells like pine wood and has plant pots hanging from the ceiling. He thinks it’s called The Hideaway, only briefly catching a glimpse of the sign before walking in, but he figures that would make sense considering he would’ve missed it had he not bumped into someone walking out. It’s busy, sure, but it’s coffee shop busy so almost everyone is on their own, reading or typing away on their Macbook writing what they think will be Hollywood’s next big screenplay. Those who are speaking are doing so with hushed voices and he can’t deny how good coffee sounds right now. He’d found quiet, now he just has to find a seat and when he does it’s in the form of an armchair by the window opposite a girl sitting with her back against one arm rest, her legs dangled over the other and a book covering her face.

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

It’s muffled over the music in her headphones but she still catches it, not enough to really make out what’s being asked but coupled with the change in lighting coming from in front of her it’s enough to know that the hazy words are probably being directed at her. It’s enough for her to take out a headphone and look up.


“This seat, is it taken?”

“Oh sorry, ye-no no it’s not you can sit there.”

She fumbling over her words and pushing her hair from out of her face to behind her ear and he’s got a lazy half smile on his face because he thinks she’s cute.

“Thanks, I’m Harry by the way”

“It’s nice to meet you Harry”

She’s smiling at him and it almost makes him skip over how she doesn’t tell him her name, thinks maybe she’s weary of strangers but he can see it. It’s written on the side of her coffee cup and it’s pretty, a pretty name for a pretty girl.

They’re quiet for the most part, occasionally he’ll sip his coffee or she’ll giggle at something she’s read, but really they’re just sitting in comfortable silence. He keeps catching himself staring at her, fascinated at how she doesn’t even notice. He watches her as she reacts to this fictional world she’s so immersed in but what he doesn’t notice is how he smiles when she smiles or how his eyebrows furrow as she pouts when she gets to a particularly upsetting part or how he’ll look away and start writing again whenever she looks sad. He doesn’t notice when she’s staring at him either, doesn’t notice how she finished her book about 10 minutes ago and how she’s been been watching him with curious eyes as he writes in his half full diary.

“What are you writing about?” It shocks him, neither of them had said anything since he’d introduced himself. His head shot up at the sound of her voice but he relaxes when his eyes catch hers. “Sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright, just didn’t realise you’d finished reading. It’s just some poems, by the way, and a few songs. S’nothing special.”

“Could I read one?”

“Nosy little thing aren’t you?”

She’s blushing now and his smile is back.

“Sorry. You don’t have to show me. I just like to read is all.”

“I never said it was a bad thing poppet, what book were you reading anyhow?”

The pet name throws her off a bit, not expecting it but also liking how it sounded coming from him.

“Pride and Prejudice. Have you read it?”

 “No, can’t say I have. Seen the film though.”

“Oh the book is so much better. Yes the movie has Colin Firth but the book…”

She’s sat up in her chair now with her legs crossed and Harry has a grin on his face because, sure, he didn’t ask for an in depth review of the novel but hearing the excitement in her voice as she talks about it and seeing how she smiled when she recalls how Mr Darcy was ‘so arrogant but being in love with Lizzie changed him’ had him feeling as though she could tell him about any and every classic novel there is and he wouldn’t mind as long as she did it with that smile on her face. 

He’s not sure how long they talked for or really what they talked about, all their conversations seemed to seamlessly stream into one. Her love of Pride and Prejudice became her love of books, which became about their favourite books, which became about their favourite movies and that became about how he’s in a movie now and so on and so forth. Now they’re here, back in comfortable silence, they’d talked for so long he swears on lookers would’ve seen them as old friends. It takes him a minute but he notices how dark it’s gotten and how the baristas are putting coloured stools up on tables and it has him checking the time. It’s 9:30pm and unfortunately for him he has three missed calls from him mother which surprises him because he didn’t even notice his phone ringing.

“Looks like they’re closing, poppet.”

“Hmm? Oh!” She looks around, noticing everything he has, before checking her phone for the time and he notes how she was also oblivious to her surroundings. “Is it really that late?”

“Yeah, we should probably get going.”

They walk out together, stopping when they get outside. Staring at each other momentarily before he breaks the silence.

“I’m this way.”

“I’m that way.”

He can’t deny the pang of disappointment in his chest when she says she’s going in the opposite direction to him, he can’t help but wonder if she felt it too and from the look on her face and how she’s pushing hair behind her ear again, he thinks she does.

“Okay well I’ll see you around then?”

“Yeah, see you around love.”

He watches her walk away with a soft smile on his face. He really hopes he sees her again.

ribcage. || i

Summary: college!au Where Tom is a genuine sweetheart trying to make it through college without completely losing his mind; his three close friends make it easier though. However, there’s one girl who wears the big sweaters and seems to have her head more in her sketchbook than anywhere else who changes him after he gets caught blatantly admiring her from afar. Tom takes it upon himself to make her problems his problems, but sometimes it’s just better to not stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. Emphasis on the sometimes though.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Black!Reader

Word Count: 1,255

Warnings: Swearing & Staring

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My True Identity (Merkel)


Based upon: Thinking your boyfriend, Merkel, is a business man. On the day of the rally, two strong, broad men break into your house to take you, planning on using you as leverage to get information from Merkel.

He told her he was a business man; finance and investments. The CIA had planted him in Germany early, so he could set up a believable life as a man sent over from America to deal with the company’s German facility. As a writer, she could work anywhere, so she did not mind when Merkel told her they needed to move to Berlin for a short while. She had not the smallest idea that he was a field agent in a game so big, she would never be able to fully comprehend it. Honestly, no on could understand it.

She laid on her side, naked, with only the thin sheets covering her body. She stared at her boyfriend as he changed into his clothes; a navy, pinstripe suit over a black turtleneck.

“I heard there’s going to be a rally today. Are you sure you need to go out? It could get ugly.” She reasoned.

He glanced up at her, continuing to button up his jacket, “I’ll be fine, darling. I’ll hardly be outside today anyways, only heading to and from work.”

She sat up and leaned against the metal headboard of their bed.

“Okay.” She replied, giving him a smile.

He walked over to her, looking over her nearly bare form in front of him; her parted lips, long lashes, prominent collarbone. He leant down and gave her a long kiss. He wished she he didn’t have to leave her. He wanted her. They needed him.

“Stay safe.” She began, pulling away from his soft lips, “You’re no super spy, so don’t act like one.” She finished, laughing lightly.

He felt ashamed. She should know. Her laugh was so innocent, so unknowing that it pained him to lie.

She planted a kiss on his sharp cheek before laying back down on the mattress.

“Be good today-” She let the sheet fall over the swell of her breasts, making him want nothing more than to take her right there and then, “and come back.”

He walked leisurely into the protest group, watching and listening for Lorraine’s cue.

The people around him marched under his command, brandishing their handcrafted signs and shouting. He was completely hidden amongst the band of Germans.

Lorraine gave him a swift nod as Percival walked beside her, unknowing of what was going to happen. He stuck two fingers into his mouth and blew, a piercing whistle erupted.

Instantly, everyone pulled out their dark grey umbrellas; opening them to shield Spyglass and the other agents.

Merkel walked with a slight smirk, it was pretty badass.

She sat wrapped up in her black silk robe adorned with a lace finish on the end of the long sleeves and hem in front of their wooden desk. She was on a “streak” with her writing as she liked to call it. The keys of the her typewriter clicked loudly as she typed out her story, a drama/romance about a young German officer falling in love with an English MI6 agent. They both had no idea who the other really was until it was too late.

She sipped on her water as she read over the passage she had just wrote:

Wilhelm held the knife against his chest, listening to the approaching foot steps just around the corner.

He shot out from behind the wall, knife at the ready before noticing the familiar raven coloured hair.

“Anna?” He breathed.


“Perfect.” She thought.

Only a few more chapters till she finished her book, My True Identity.

How relatable it was indeed.

There was two hard knocks on the door. She assumed Merkel had his hands full of food or left his key at home. So, she leapt up from the wood chair, making it creak, and hurried to the door.

Smiling wide, happy to see him, she opened the door. It was not Merkel.

“Yes?” She asked, worried that something had happened to him. She did tell him that he shouldn’t have gone out on a rally day. Her smile fell.

The pair of tall, broad men did not answer her question. Instead, they pushed through the half opened door, grabbing at the young woman.

“What are you doing?” She shrieked.

The woman sprinted across the living room, into the small kitchen and almost made it to the back door when a hand gripped her shoulder, yanking her back.

“No… no! Please stop.” She begged, fighting as hard as she possibly could against the strong man holding her.

“Just tell me what you want from me. Please, I beg you!” She cried and the man’s grip tightened.

“Ask Merkel.” The one standing in front of her said simply.

The young woman’s eyes widened.

“What do you mean? What do you want with Merkel!” She screamed.

The one holding her slapped her violently, causing tears to stream down her face. He grabbed her face harshly, tilting her chin up so her eyes could meet his.

“Does your lover not divulge his deepest secrets with you?” The man wondered. “At the moment we need leverage. Normally I’d leave the unmarried ones behind, they never care about them, but you… I think he’d pay good information for a girl like you. I sure wouldn’t let you go.”

The other man laughed and shamelessly took in her robed form. She cried out, gasping and wished she could escape them. He left to scan their home.

“What is Merkel?” She whispered.

The one holding her laughed, “The Trickster.” He sneered.

“He won’t come for me.” She declared.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“No. If he is doing all of this, whatever this is, behind my back then I was never supposed to find out. He will save them, not me.” She fought back.

“Are you quite confident in that statement?” The other man said, footsteps reaching the room.

Her mouth dropped when he came back into the kitchen, hand gripping a diamond ring.

Merkel sat on his roof top location, having met with Lorraine to construct the next diversion. He had his long legs stretched out on the chair in front of him as he took slow drags from his cigarette.

He looked over Berlin, eyes scanning over the people, cars and buildings below him. He was hidden in the most outright place to look.

His phone rang. As big and bulky as it was, it still fit inside his large jacket.

“Yes?” He answered nonchalantly.

“Ah, Merkel. We’re all glad you picked up, isn’t that right sweetheart?” His whole body stiffened at the last word.

From his end of the line, he could hear a loud slap and her laboured breaths as she gasped.

“Y/N.” He began, not quite knowing what to say. He was paralyzed with fear.

“Go ahead,” Smack. “Answer him.” He demanded of her.

“Merkel…” She whimpered, her voice shaking.

It hurt more than anything else before.

“I want you here in two hours tops, you know where. If you don’t come, the bitch is dead. That would be a shame for rather obvious reasons, you’ve had her, you must know. I however…”

His hand clenched around the phone, hearing her cry.

“Don’t you dare touch her.” He said lowly.

“Don’t give me a reason to. Two hours. Your fiancée awaits.”

A Snow Elf necromancer in Skyrim

and sparkling evermore

Strifesodos Week day 1 - Reading
It’s still the 18th somewhere! 
Cloud visits the library and explores poetry, one of his least favorite things, with his crush.  

The ShinRa library, tucked into a back corner of the 47th floor of the iconic Midgar Tower, was pretty nice.

Cloud hadn’t thought that too many military folks read a lot of books—perhaps that was presumptuous of him.  Heavily muscled, frightening military personnel didn’t really mesh with the image in his head of a bookworm (a nerd, like you were in Nibelheim if you read books for fun).  But to his surprise, he found both infantrypeople and SOLDIERs with books in their hands all the time.

 After all, missions could be long and tiring. There weren’t always stations to recharge your PHS or tablets.  Life in ShinRa Tower, despite what the bigwigs at the top said, could be tough and… boring at times, even.

 So perhaps some people read for the same reasons Cloud did—life at ShinRa was kinda crappy, actually, and books offered a nice escape during his personal time.  

The library wasn’t massive but there were lots of shelves in the space they did have that were packed with books, and even a couple tables and chairs.  Cloud liked it there… but honestly, he’d like it a lot more if Genesis Rhapsodos wasn’t always hanging around.  

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Dear Mags

[Also on AO3 in my one-shot collection Mean Peach Mojito]

She finds the first one when she’s at the DMV.

She’s been here for hours. She’s finished her book. She’s swiped an abandoned newspaper and solved half of the crossword before she gets stuck. She’s too proud to text Alex for help, so now she’s just opening and closing all the apps on her phone, aimlessly trying to pass the time without going ballistic about how slow this process is.

She opens her notes app, and about halfway down the screen, tucked between old grocery lists and weekend to-do lists and her list of books to read, she sees a note that starts with “Dear Mags.”

And she’d have remembered writing a note to herself. She scrunches up her face as she clicks on it.

“Dear Mags,” it says, “I don’t know when you’re going to find this. You’re about to get on a plane to Texas for that alien policing conference.” Maggie’s eyes widen a little as her nose wrinkles in confusion. That was a couple months ago, just a few weeks after she and Alex had kissed for the first time.

And the only person who calls her Mags – the only person with access to her phone – is Alex.

Dread drops, hot and dense, into her gut. It can’t be a breakup note, right? Not a breakup note, not from months ago, not just tucked into her notes app? That would be insane, Maggie knows that, but her heart is both frozen up in her throat and roiling down in her gut as her eyes fly over the screen.

“I know we haven’t been together very long, but there’s something I want you to know. I’m not sure when is the right time to tell you, so I’m chickening out by writing it here. Just know, whenever you see this, that it was true when I wrote it and I know it’s true today when you’re reading it.”

Maggie holds her breath as her thumb moves, both too quickly and not nearly quickly enough, to scroll down the page.

“I love you.”

Maggie tries to release her air, but her breath stutters.

They haven’t said it yet.

She’s wanted to for a while, but she hasn’t had the guts to do it.

And fucking Alex Danvers had the guts months ago.

“Just wanted you to know. I love you, beautiful girl. Come back soon. I miss you already.”

And now Maggie’s crying in the DMV.

An older black woman next to her hands her a tissue. “I’m sure they’ll call your number soon, sugar,” she tells her.

She finds the next note in the middle of the grocery list Alex had typed on her phone last night, while Maggie was giving her a shoulder massage.

Sesame bagels
Amazing tortillas
Gross cheese
I love you
I wonder every day if your dimples are a gift from god
When you smile at me I feel like I can fly
You’re so amazing
Also this massage feels excellent
Frozen broccoli
Pizza dough
Baking powder
Chili powder”

She, trying to be a good snake person, spends the night five minutes creating the right lighting to send a picture of her dimples to Alex.

It turns out the frozen food aisle is the best for that, the light from the freezers dancing gently on her face.

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