#granted i did write this in like ten minutes to do with this what you will

[southieparkie]

i love bunny bc theyre two kids that dont feel seen or heard getting together to see and hear each other. i saw a post from someone saying that kenny would only hang out with butters because he pitties him and its been sitting with my soul for so long.

expanding on that idea, what if kenny would one day realize that he’s treating butters the same way everyone else does because he doesn’t truly care about what leo has to say, even though they hang out often. so to fix that, one day he’ll just decide to tune in on one of his rambles. and he sees a twinkle in leo’s eyes when he talks about what he loves, and kenny just gravitates towards that joy.

so he decides to chime in with the things that he loves, and leo listens with no judgement. nascar, halloween, they even get into a lengthy conversation about playboy and kenny’ll show off his collection. leo will be impressed and enamored, and soon they’ll spend an entire afternoon looking at boobies.

then they’ll grow up, doing the same thing they always have: rambling about their interests to each other and listening to what they have to say.

one day, kenny’ll have a breakdown at school over his curse and how nobody will believe that he’s immortal, and butters’ll comfort him, saying that this whole time he’s known. just not in this world, in this universe. he’d have dreams where kenny would die in the most gruesome ways, and they would petrify him. so he understands. he understands the pain he’s going through, and he cries with kenny because kenny is so hurt. he’s in so much pain, and he cant make it disappear at the snap of his fingers. all he can do is be present, which he is. at this moment, with leo nurturing him, making him feel like a kid being protected by a competent adult, a feeling he’s never gotten the pleasure of having much growing up, he falls in love.

but leo doesn’t. he still sees ken as a confidante, a pal, a broken soul to heal, but never a partner. he sees other people, looks at other people, because he’s finally earned the confidence to be such a social butterfly. he’s blossomed, everybody loves him, especially the boys.

kenny is pissed, even getting overly protective at times, because he and leo are supposed to be together. doesnt leo love him? he would’ve walked away when kenny barked for him to on the day of his breakdown if he didnt, right?

still, he cant help but be happy for his lil buddy, because he’s finally becoming the “leopold” that “butters” never was. he has so many friends, and stephen and linda are out of the picture now. he’s free. sure, kenny’s still stuck in hell on earth, with only karen and leo (and he supposes stan and the guys) to keep him completely sane. but he doesn’t care. his heart is being fed by leo’s happiness. if leo wasn’t happy, he’d feel so empty. his heart would be so hungry.

leo would come around after a night at a party with viciously spiked punch. kenny would hold his hair back as he vomited on the stevens’ sidewalk, his vision blurred and his body shaking. kenny would lead him all the way home, and beg for miss nellie and her brand new husband to not ground butters, because he’s had enough groundings in his life. leo overhears the encounter, kenny politely yet frantically asking that they take it easy on the trashed blond and offering to take him back to his bedroom to tuck him in, and it clicks

no one else was ever going to treat him this way. no one was going to be this good to him or treat him like something other than a failure. he knows kenny will protect him the same way he wants to protect kenny, which is a key aspect in a relationship that his parents never seemed to have. he confesses his newly aquired infatuation once he and kenny are upstairs, still a bit buzzed off of the alcohol, and kenny immediately accepts and reciprocates, perhaps being a little tipsy off of the punch himself.

of course, they would build their “going steady relationship first before the big “i love you,” which they shared at leo’s last cheerleading compotition as a sophomore, the juniors and seniors going wild that their little sunshine blond flyer has finally found his perfect match

(YALL I WANNA WRITE THIS FIC SO BAD BUT I JUST…I CANY. I. I HAVE BIG FEELINGS RN. I AM CRYING AS IM TYPING THIS.)

#south park #sp #sp bunny #im emotional #kenny mccormick #butters leopold stotch #this could be ooc? idk #granted i did write this in like ten minutes to do with this what you will #UGH high school drama will they wont they childhood friends strangers to friends to best friends to lovers #i will pay someone to write this for me #long post #ykw idek what this is #a rant? a retrospective?? #a brief moment of my own vulnerability because i wrote leo’s perspective from my own POV?? #yeah im banking on that one being it

[aliensupastar]

i wouldn’t ask you

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You try to break your promise. Carmy won’t let you. Follow-up to “shouldn’t feel like a crime”

Part I Part II

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, depiction of an eating disorder, food issues, heart-to hearts, arguments, swearing

A/N: once again, thank y'all so much for the love on parts one and two of this fic, it brings me so much joy!! also, im terribly sorry for how long it took to write this. school happened and i think it got away from me a little bit, i did a lot of rewrites, and it's shorter than i'd like it to be but it’s something i’m finally satisfied with, and i hope you guys enjoy it! to anyone who’s sent me asks, left comments or replies telling me they connected with this fic, i hope it continues to bring you comfort as it has for me. i can’t express to you enough how much all your responses have meant to me. this will be the last part for this lil series, but im grateful to anyone who’s read n supported it. title insp by "i wouldn’t ask you" by clairo, gif by riickgrimes <3

Logically, you know that healing — if that’s what you could call what you were trying to do — isn’t linear. You’ve heard it a thousand times, and on some level, you know it’s true. Knowing it doesn’t stop the shame you feel when you start skipping the train, opting instead to walk, or on shittier days, run to work. 

At first you thought you’d been able to escape the anxiety that came with eating anything you didn’t know the exact calorie count of, that you’d been able to eat Carmy’s spaghetti without complication. In retrospect, it had merely been delayed, the calm and warmth afforded to you by Carmy’s presence wearing off as soon as you’d gotten into bed that night; you’d laid awake for another hour, paralyzed by your own panic. 

The only solution you found fit was to force yourself into physical activity, making your travel to and from work ten times more miserable, waking up an hour and a half earlier than usual just to get to the restaurant on time and still have ten minutes to freshen up and change into your uniform. You at least managed to make the change in your routine go unnoticed, still looking presentable once it was time to open for service, or at least you thought so. 

“Did you run here?” Sydney asks one morning, spotting you right as you clocked in and rushed to your locker to pull out your uniform. 

“Uh, yeah, I did.” You’re a little too breathless to come up with an excuse, to properly deflect her concern and surprise. 

“Okay…” She watches as you shove your other belongings into the locker space haphazardly. “Does that, like, happen often, or-“

“No,” You say, too quickly, shaking your head. “Just, uh, don’t tell Carmy?” 

You look up at her, eyes pleading, hoping she accepts this one request without question, hoping she can disregard something just this one time. 

“Tell Carmy what?” Hearing your boss’s voice makes you jump in shock, as he comes around the corner and spots you, hair messy and sweat still dripping down your temple. 

Your skill for being unnoticeable is escaping you, that much is clear. You’re essentially caught red-handed, a deer in headlights, eyes bouncing between Sydney and Carmy as you struggle to come up with something, anything to respond with. But Sydney swoops in just seconds after you freeze, granting you mercy, this one time. 

“Tell you to mind your own business, chef,” She says, her tone light-hearted so that you know to force out a laugh, and Carmy takes it. He gives a half-smile and shakes his head, heading over to his prep station and as soon as he’s out of sight, you look back at Sydney. 

“Thank you,” You whisper as you head for the bathroom, uniform in hand, and she nods, still looking concerned but thankfully, dropping it. 

Carmy’s the one who won’t drop it. It stays on his mind all day, even after you’ve changed clothes and fixed your hair and erased any trace of the mess you looked that morning; every free moment he has, he spends thinking of you. 

He wants to believe that you’d simply missed your train. An innocent, easy mistake. But the way you avoid meeting his eyes during service hours, no matter how many times he tries to get your attention, or get you to just look at him and confirm that you’re okay, tells him it’s more than that. 

He rushes through closing duties that night, just to make sure he’s good to leave before you finish closing up the front with Richie. He waits, sits in his office chair pretending to be busy until he sees you heading for the lockers, ready to clock out, and then moves to lean as casually as possible against the doorway. 

“You want a ride home?” He asks, interrupting you as you pull clothes out from the locker; the clothes you were wearing this morning, he realizes, a sweatshirt and biker shorts. Like you expect to break a sweat on the way home, too. 

“Nope. Thank you, chef, I’m good.” You barely even look over at him as you say it, and Carmy has to stop himself from making a face, making his displeasure visible. 

“I really don’t mind,” He tries again, but you just close your locker door and shake your head, ready — and desperate — to change out of your uniform in the bathroom before it’s time to lock up. You put on what you hope is an easy smile, but it comes off tense.

“I’m okay, Carm, really. It’s not like it’s raining-“

“Chef,” He interrupts you, suddenly stern. “C’mon.” 

He nods his head motioning for you to follow him, and it’s clear from his tone that there will be no room to argue. 

You trail behind him while he locks up, and on the way out to his car, you can feel that frustration building up inside you again. The same resentment and irritation you felt in the hospital, when he wouldn’t take your bullshit excuses in the same way that nurse or your other coworkers would, it rises and rises till you’re gripping your backpack strap a little too tight and shutting the car door a little too hard. 

You’re grateful, at the very least, that he says nothing when tears start to spill out and down your face as he drives you home. 

You sit in silence for a minute when Carmy pulls into your building’s parking lot. You can’t bring yourself to leave at first, part of you still craving to savor his presence for as long as you can, even if the other part of you is too angry to even look at him. 

“You wanna talk?” He asks quietly. 

“Nope.” His question is enough to set you off, pushing the car door open and furiously wiping away your tears as you haul yourself out. 

Logically, Carmy knows it might be best to leave you alone for tonight. Let you calm down and attempt reconciliation tomorrow morning. Knowing it doesn’t stop the feeling that he can’t just leave you alone, and let you walk away upset. 

“Hey,” He calls out, opening his own door and moving to follow you. “C’mon-“

“Fuck you, Carmen.” You spit out. 

He’s undeterred, even if you don’t turn back to face him once, refusing to acknowledge him tailing you the entire way up to your apartment. 

You don’t tell him to leave you alone, to stop following you, to fuck off. You don’t even slam your front door in his face like he half-expects you to. Instead it hangs open as you storm into your living room, a silent invitation. An invitation Carmy doesn’t hesitate to accept, stepping through your door and carefully closing it behind him. 

He’s still wracking his brain on what to say, clueless on how to stop the tears flowing down your face as you toss your backpack down and meekly lower yourself to sit on the floor between your couch and the coffee table, knees pulled into your chest. 

“Will you just fuckin’ talk to me?” He finds himself pleading with you again after a minute, but his helplessness in the face of your distress makes his words come out callous, and you just scoff. 

“Don’t be a dickhead, Carmy.”

“I’m a dickhead? I-I’m the dickhead, for giving a fuck?” You lift your head to glare at him, and you can see that he wants to match your anger; all the tell-tale signs of an upcoming screaming match appearing in his features, scrunching up his face as he repeats your words back to you, and you know you’re not being fair. You promised him you’d let him in, allow him to help stop you from going off the deep end again, and yet you’re the one resisting him. You wish he’d let the frustration on his face overtake him, walk out your door and leave you alone with your mind. 

He doesn’t, no matter how much you will him to. His eyes meet your own, filled with misplaced ire, and all he does is lean his head back and sigh, running a hand over his face and forcing himself to curtail the urge to give in to your bait. 

“You don’t wanna talk, I’ll talk,” He starts tentatively, before saying maybe the last thing you’d expect: “I’m sorry.” 

Your narrowed eyes widen, the contempt in them turning to pure shock, but he barely notices. 

“I didn’t mean to- if I went too far, the other day, with the spaghetti. I didn’t mean to set you off like that. I’m sorry.” The absolute sincerity in his voice as he apologizes for something you know isn’t on him — it’s too much. 

You’d love to pass the blame off on somebody else. If you could find a single other person to hold accountable for causing the near-constant state of discomfort that you’ve been stuck in for weeks, the distress of living in your own body, you think you’d jump at the chance. But you can’t bring yourself to do it to the one person who’s offered to take the fault away from you, because even now, after you’ve lashed out at him, he’s deliberately gentle with you. 

You can see Carmy is ready to move towards your front door, you’ve sat here for too long without giving him a response, weeping silently. And maybe that would be the right thing to do after breaking your promise, letting him worry over you till he thinks he’s the one who owes you an apology. But selfishly, you reach up and grasp his arm before he can even turn to leave, gently tugging him down to sit with you, and he lets you. 

“I’m sorry,” You start once he’s settled next to you, your voice still thick with tears. “I know what we talked about in the hospital. I haven’t been- I fucked all that up, I know, I’m sorry.” He’s shaking his head, looking like he wants to refute you, but you continue on.

“I just… I’m so fucking scared,” You nearly choke on your words, but it’s a relief to get them out, and suddenly you can’t stop the rest from spilling from your mouth. “I’m scared of getting better. I can’t stand the thought of it, I don’t even- I don’t know what I’d be for, if I wasn’t like this all the time. And it’s fucking embarrassing. That’s all I feel, all the time, just- constant fear, and shame. I can’t fucking stop myself.” 

You take a pause, doing your best to breathe deep and avoid Carmy’s intent gaze, so you don’t lose your nerve.

“We were good, for a bit, and I wasn’t so… out of control. But then I fucked it, and I-I couldn’t just, tell you. Felt like, for once there was someone who understood, and I just wanted to keep the rest of it out of sight, I guess.” 

It’s the most you’ve expressed to anyone about this. You think maybe you’ve gone too far, that maybe now you’ll have alienated the one person you’ve been honest with in years. But when you finally look up at Carmy, he’s nodding thoughtfully, no trace of judgment or pity in his expression. 

“I don’t.” He says carefully. “I don’t really understand. I-I don’t think I could, uh-” He pauses, clasping one hand over the other tightly, like it pains him to force his words out, too. “I guess, growin’ up, food was basically a love language. It was how I bonded with Mikey, it’s why I wanted to do this job in the first place. So, to avoid food… I don’t think I can imagine what that’s like.” 

All you can do is nod. You shouldn’t have made him listen to you vent your emotions, you should’ve let him walk out your door-

“But, I’d like to try. If that’s what you want.” He says, interrupting your spiral. “I just need to know you’re safe. Shutting me out like this – it’s bullshit. I’m not gonna just- stop caring. Even if it’s ugly. Just don’t shut me out.” 

His earnestness practically shoots you in the chest, filling you with that warm, familiar feeling that usually comes with his presence. You want to push against it, you haven’t earned it back, it’s too damn much.

“Even if I… end up in the hospital again?” You say, trying to keep your tone light, but you can’t keep the pleading out of your voice. 

“I’d drive you to the hospital a hundred times.” Carmy replies, completely genuine, and now you can’t push back against the urge to throw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. 

You don’t know how long you sit there, on the hard floors of your living room, arms tight around each other, breathing together. All you know is that you don’t want him to leave; he makes no move to go. 

a few people asked to be tagged on this part, so here you go! @rexorangecouny @moonlight-sonata99 @kpopgirlbtssvt

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto angst #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #hurt/comfort #angst #my writing #the shrimp that fried that rice

[brnesblogposts]

Moon boys when you’re on your period!

pairing(s) gn!reader x steven grant, gn!reader x marc spector

warnings just fluff and comfort. mentions of everything a period entails.

a/n i didn’t write for Jake purely because i don’t know spanish and it’s 2am, this took a lot longer than i thought it would and it would take even more time to translate words into spanish to write his pov, BUT if you do want me to do a jake pov let me know and i will! when you know- it’s not the middle of the night :)

Steven

Steven was awoken by you stirring in your sleep, he leaned over to check the time on his phone, 4:14am. He didn’t want to wake you, knowing full well someone shaking you awake when you’re having a nightmare is not a pleasant experience nor does it make it any less scary.

He decided to take a gentle approach, without touching you he just started saying your name in a gentle tone.

Y/n”

“Y/n wake up love, it’s me, steven.” He saw your eyes stirring and continued to softly speak. “Love, you’re okay, you’re safe” Your eyes fluttered open “Steven?” He gently caressed your arm “I think you were having a nightmare” You looked perplexed, as if you didn’t recall a nightmare. “I don’t think I- OW, UGH” You started wincing all of a sudden, Steven’s eyebrow raised “Y/N? What’s wrong?!” A trace of concern in his voice.

“CRAMPS” You screeched out while balling yourself into a fetal position and taking deep breathes, “I must of been stirring because o- of my cramps” You were squeezing your eyes shut in sheer pain. “I’ll get your water bottle!” Steven rushed to get to the kitchen, but before he swiftly got out of bed he made sure to give you a kiss on your temple. He kept looking back at you while he waited for the kettle to boil, making sure you were okay despite the tremendous pain he knew you were in. Steven wished he could take it away, he’d rather have cramps then see you like this.

Steven quickly filled the bottle, wrapped a tea towel around it and made sure to grab two painkillers and some water on his way back. “Here you go, my darling” He spoke with the upmost sympathy as he placed the water bottle on your abdomen. “Thank you, my perfect boy” You replied and watched a tint of red takeover his face. “Sit up a bit for me, yeah?” You obliged and sat up as best you could while not inducing anymore pain, Steven handed you the tablets and you plopped them in your mouth. He held the glass up to your lips for you as you downed them then ever so gently pressed a loving and soft kiss that said “I’ve got you”.

Steven climbed back into bed and rubbed your back for about 45 minutes as you both waited for the meds and heat pack to kick in, and for the pain to subside. He heard your deep breathes turn into content sighs and took that as a sign that the pain was gone or at least mostly to a point where it was bearable. He wrapped his arm around you and pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade, “I love you my darling, Y/n” And with that, he too drifted off into a peaceful sleep, still of course keeping an ear out for you, his person.

Marc

Marc was out getting a few food bits in, he’d left you on the sofa where you were reading a book. He wasn’t out ten minutes before he received s text. Can you buy me some pads pls? Off he went to the sanitary towel isle, little did he know just how many options there were. Between all the different brands, sizes, wings or no wings, he was out of his depth.

Which kind do you need, baby? He sent back to you, and within a few seconds you responded with a brand name and size, making his job a whole lot easier. He decided to cut his shopping trip short knowing you’d need these ASAP.

Marc arrived home and walked in to see you that you were nowhere to be seen, “IN HERE!” He followed the sound of your voice to find you in the bathroom. He handed off the pads and decided to surprise you, while you cleaned yourself up in which he had noticed you decided to go for a shower. Marc made you a hot water bottle, a cup of tea and was currently making you a plate of your favourite treats. He set them on a tray on the bed just as you stepped out the bathroom.

“Baby, how are you feeling?” His eyes showed how deeply he meant that, wanting to do everything he could to make you feel comfortable. “My cramps aren’t too bad yet, I have a little headache coming on and am craving sugar.” He could tell you were trying to downplay it, not wanting him to be too worried about you, he could see through you though.

“Oh Marc this is perfect!” You said as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, “I was just about to say I feel like today is a bed day” You smiled, his favourite smile. He helped you settle into the bed, making sure your pillows were fluffed to your liking and set the tray over your lap and the water bottle on your abdomen. As he went to sit on the sofa you called after him “Baby? Can you stay with me? I just want to be with you” He didn’t hesitate a second and was next to you, feeding you grapes quite literally.

After a few minutes he noticed you tearing up “Marc, my sweet, perfect, most handsome boyfriend. What did I do to deserve you?” By this point tears started streaming down your cheeks. “You’re just so perfect, always making sure I feel loved and seen, listening to me ramble about things I know you don’t care about or when I come home from work and I’m in a bad mood you give me my space and don’t question it if I snap at you. I really don’t deserve you” You were in hysterics. Marc looked at you, upset that you’d ever question if you deserved him. Of course you did, you were the most amazing person he’d ever met, the most accepting, loving, caring person. You made sure him and his alters felt safe and if he was having a nightmare you were there to pull him out of it and calm him down.

He kissed your tear stained cheeks, no words spoken but the actions spoke louder, telling you that you did deserve him. Nothing was going to change that. He wrapped his arms around you and you tucked your head into his neck, after a couple minutes you’d seemed to calm down but he still held you, not letting go. Not until you wanted him to. Another 10 minutes passed and you still hadn’t peeled away, and that’s when he noticed you were asleep. Your eyelashes resting softly and your mouth parted. He kissed the top of your head and held you and never let go.

#writerblr #avengers #avengers family #avengers fanfiction #avengers x platonic reader #avengers x reader #marvel #moon knight x you #moon knight x y/n #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfic #moon knight #steven grant x gender neutral reader #steven grant fic #steven grant x reader #steven grant #marc spector #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector x y/n

[pixiesfz]

Hi how are you and love your fics and would you write for Charli grant also Katrina gorry

heya!, I'm doing well thankyou I actually have a cute idea of Charli and the reader going to the Australian woman of the year awards together!!

plot: Y/N and Charli are injured and can't go to the Matildas camp in Canada, therefor they are asked to represent the Matildas at the Australian Woman of the Year awards (imagine reader in the red mini dress Margot Robbie wore for a barbie premiere)

Warnings: fluff, mentions of anxiety (ik dates don't add up...live the fantasy)

When you sprained your ankle at the Leicester vs Arsenal game you were upset that you couldn't take part in the last international camp of the year, you considered all of the girls like family.

Then Charli also injured herself, ruling you both out of the camp. It was then you decided that you could both go home to your families in Australia and spend your week there.

You forgot about your injury and instead got excited, you hadn't physically seen your girlfriend in about three weeks and you had missed her so much.

Kyra gave you so much shit for it.

When the plane to Sydney landed you knew she would be at the Airport waiting so you flashed a smile quickly to the person who thankfully didn't snore who sat behind you and made your way out of the plane.

You saw her from a mile away with her bright perfect smile and blonde wavy locks. She was the definition of sunlight in your eyes and every time you saw her you felt like you were falling in love all over again.

When you quickened up your steps to get to her you let go of your suitcase and engulfed her in a bone-crushing hug.

"hello to you to babe" she laughed and you squeezed her tighter "I missed you Chaz"

"I missed you too" she said and relaxed into your touch. You both stayed like that before she let you go and reached into her bag, bringing out two tickets.

"I may have agreed to something" she sheepishly smiled and you laughed "what did you do?" you ask and she held out the tickets to you.

"Woman of the year awards" you read out before she pointed at them again "you missed something"

You looked back down at the ticket and furrowed your brows until you saw it.

"Tonight?!"

"Surprise!" Charli smiled cautiously as she watched your face "I know they're last minute but it would be you and me representing the Matilda's whilst they're at camp and plus we get to dress up" she added on, grabbing your hands.

You gave in and smiled "Okay," you told her "I don't have a dress though, I didn't think 'big event' would've been something I should've packed for" you said and Charli laughed "They've got us dresses babe" she told you before giving you a soft kiss on the lips.

"Can we go home?" you asked with an overexaggerated pout "if I'm going to this thing I'm gonna need a rest to get rid of these eyebags" you pointed at your eyes and Charli grabbed the tickets out of your hand.

"Oh please you will be the most sexy woman there" she encouraged and grabbed your hand "let's go".

You were both at your family home, laying on your childhood bed, napping with your legs entangled together.

You watched Charli sleep with a smile, she was gorgeous, you didn't know that she was doing the same thing ten minutes ago when you were fast asleep.

You got up to the end of the bed and checked your phone for the time, three o'clock. You knew you had to wake Charli up to get ready.

But before you did you looked at the door that had the dress that Vanity Fair had chosen for you both, Charli had an elegant yellow gown and you had a red silk mini dress that you knew you would probably be thinking about the shortness of the whole night.

"We can switch" a voice popped up behind you and you faced Charli "No, you would look perfect with the yellow" You smiled and Charli moved up from the bed to you and snuggled into your side "You will look fabulous" she told you and kissed your shoulder "you always do"

"I'm just a little bit scared is all" you admitted and Charli nodded "like what if I fall-" "you want fall" "but I could" you told her before looking down "I have bruises on my shins from soccer it will be unattractive and the media would be-"

"hey" Charli turned your head delicately with her fingers to face her "We are there to accept an award because of our sport, it would be a little stupid if they think we walk out of the pitch with nicely tanned shaved legs with no damage to our bodies, plus we are only going because we have done damage to our bodies" she joked, hoping it would bring a smile upon your lips, which it did.

"I don't want you thinking about anyone in the media y/n" Charli told you as she stroked her fingers in your hair "think about you, or me, or even you and me, think of anything" she encouraged and pressed a small kiss to your lips.

"You always know how to make me feel better" you smile at her "anything for my girl" she smiled, and for the 1000th time that day you felt your heart melt.

"I love you"

"I love you too, now lets get ready"

It wasn't long until the hair and makeup people came and 'did you up' as Charli called it, her hair was curled and her eyes had a shimmer on them that somehow made her shine even more than her natural self.

You didn't think that was possible.

Your makeup was similar, only with a sharper eyeliner and you hair was in a low bun with strands curled at the front.

You walked out to your girlfriend talking to one of the media girls that you recognized from the world cup who was filming Charli answering a few questions in her dress which she stopped when you walked out.

"y/n freaking y/l/n" she stated before walking up to you and giving you a hug "you look gorgeous she told you before stepping back and looking at you upside down "and bloody sexy!" she added, making you blush.

You weren't gonna lie you did feel glamorous and you did catch yourself looking in the mirror a bit longer than intended.

"You're not too bad yourself" you told the blonde who couldn't stop smiling.

You both answered some questions, even including questions about your relationship that the viewers on tik tok would love.

"Cabs here you ready to go babe?" you called out as you got the text of the arrival of your uber driver, you turned around to your girlfriend taking pictures of you "Charli!" you called out and she laughed.

"You just look so good!"

#charli grant #matildas #matildas x reader #woso #woso soccer #woso x reader #woso community #caitlin foord #sam kerr #katie mccabe #alanna kennedy #kyra cooney cross smut #kyra cooney cross #kyra cooney cross x reader #hayley raso x reader #hayley raso #mackenzie arnold #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #arsenal #worldcup2023 #womens football #soccer girls #soccer imagine #soccer player

[h00nerz]

murphy’s law!

masterlist | 1k celebration

pairing: choi beomgyu x gn!reader

genre: angst, fluff, high school au, troublemaker!beomgyu, stuco president!reader, kind of one sided enemies to lovers if you squint

word count: 3.2k (im so sorry)

warnings: none afaik? just burnt out reader

prompt(s): #5 — “why are you crying?”

requested: “hi! congratulations on 1k followers!!! for the event, can i have prompt 5 with beomgyu? what i had on mind was like highschool au and reader just had a bad day or smth and had to stay after school to clean, and started crying in the classroom alone and beomgyu was also in the school and heard reader crying and found that it was his long time crush? i hope this makes sense! sorry if this was too long too😓 thank you in advance!!♥️♥️” — @loveliii

authors note: omg the first drabble of the celebration... except apparently i can’t write drabbles so it’s more of a oneshot plz forgive me.

MURPHY’S LAW STATES: everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Now, you had no idea who Murphy was, but you used to always believe he was full of shit. There had been plenty of instances where things could have gone wrong, but they didn’t. 

In fact, when it came to your case, it seemed like things usually went right. You got good grades, and got along well with all of your teachers. You were the captain of your school’s volleyball team, and had even been elected your school’s student body president your last year of high school. Things always went well for you, which is why you had never really been a believer in what that Murphy guy had to say. 

At least, that’s what you thought before today. Because now, you were starting to think maybe you had taken your past ability to narrowly avoid disaster for granted. Because today, just like Murphy had once predicted, everything that could go wrong did just that: go wrong. 

It started with your stupid charger. The night before, you must have apparently unplugged it, because when you plugged it into your phone before going to bed, it never charged. Which meant your phone died, and that meant your alarm never went off. And that meant you woke up ten minutes before school started, and your bus was going to be there any second. 

So, in the quickest fashion you could muster, you brushed through your hair so you looked at least somewhat presentable then slipped into your uniform. You were incredibly impressed by how fast you’d managed to do that—just over 60 seconds! It must have been some kind of record. Less impressive, though, was the fact that even though you had been so speedy, you watched as the bus you were supposed to be on drove away in the direction of your school, leaving you behind. 

Thank goodness for all those years playing volleyball, you had built up enough stamina to (barely) get you from your house all the way to the school. You were twenty minutes late, sure, but hey, at least you were there, right? Your first period teacher was not so understanding, almost immediately assigning you to detention after school. 

Detention. You never got detention. In your four years at that school, working your ass off to be the best student you could be, a child your parents could be proud ofc, not once had you gotten assigned to detention. The realization that for the first time ever, you’d been punished by a teacher, was a foreign feeling as you sat at your desk and replayed everything that had happened. Detention, all because your stupid phone charger decided not to work the night before. 

“Damn, I thought you were immune to detention.” A voice behind you whispered, and you glanced over to see Choi Beomgyu grinning at you. Of course Beomgyu had seen that all. 

Choi Beomgyu was the exact opposite of you. He had fights with teachers basically on the daily, and you were pretty sure he was failing most of his classes. Not because he was stupid, by any means, he was actually really smart. He just didn’t try, he didn’t care about school the way you did. What he did care about, though, was teasing you as much as was humanly possible. 

And of course, he had just seen you, the student body president, run into class twenty minutes late and get detention. 

You had half a mind to bite back at him, because oh would that be satisfying, but you weren’t looking to talk in the middle of class and make your punishment worse than it already was. You instead gave him a side-eye glare, and he must have found it amusing since he started to giggle. 

Once class got out, you really shouldn’t have been surprised to glance over your shoulder to see Choi Beomgyu following you, hot on your tail like he was some sort of lost puppy. You groaned quietly to yourself, hoping that if you ignored him long enough, he would get bored and walk away. Unfortunately, Beomgyu was a very patient man. 

“I can’t believe you were late! What happened? Did your carriage lose a wheel on the way here, your highness?” He asked, using his long legs so he could get right up next to you.  

You stayed silent.

“Come on, you can tell me! I’m like, the king of being late. I won’t judge.” He nudged your arm with his elbow, with just enough pressure for you to fall out of your rhythm. Now, he finally had your attention as you turned to look at him, eyes narrowed.

“Look, I’m not in the mood today, okay?” You told him flatly, and you were expecting him to find your irritable mood amusing, and find a way to push your buttons further than he already had, but he didn’t. 

Instead, his face softened and he (surprisingly) went quiet. You didn’t bother sticking around to figure out what that was all about, not when you still needed to get to your class on the other end of the building, and you were not risking being late to a second class. So, you gave him a small nod, a thank you for leaving you alone, then walked away.

The rest of your day wasn’t any better. 

In your history class, you got your grades for a test you’d recently taken, and nearly fell out of your seat when you saw a big fat C staring back at you. And your horror increased tenfold when you saw it wasn’t just a C, but a C minus. Never in your high school career had you gotten a C minus. 

At that point of the day, you were starting to become convinced that someone had put some sort of curse on you. You didn’t really have any enemies who would have done that to you, though. Except maybe Choi Beomgyu, but you had a feeling putting a curse on someone was too much effort for him to be bothered with.

By the time the school day was over, you were completely exhausted. At lunch, your best friend, Sumin, accidentally spilled her drink on your uniform, and now you were wearing some extras from the lost and found that were much too big for you. You wanted nothing more than to go home, crawl into your bed and have a good cry, but you still had to do your detention. 

You weren’t really sure what to expect from detention, considering you’d never had to do it before. You knew you weren’t looking forward to it, though, and just hoped it wouldn’t be anything horrible--especially since it was your first offense.

Your first period teacher was waiting for you in her classroom after classes got out, and she greeted you with a sympathetic smile. “Y/N. You know you’re one of my favorite students, so it really broke my heart when I saw you come in late this morning.”

The urge to roll your eyes arose, but you managed to fight it. Here she was, acting like you had betrayed her or something, when really, it was her decision to punish you for something so small. 

“I understand.” You replied with a nod, avoiding her gaze. 

“Good. So, I figured out the perfect thing for you.” She stood up and began to walk out of the classroom, with you following closely behind. 

Apparently, the perfect thing for you was some storage room that clearly hadn’t been cleaned in a long time. There had been racks with boxes of textbooks that must have gotten knocked over, since the books were now all over the floor. And the room was covered in a thick layer of dust that made your nose itch the second you stepped inside. She left you with a singular rag, a bottle of cleaner, then left you alone.

You stood in the doorframe, assessing the room in front of you. Just from looking at it, you knew it was going to take you at least a few hours to clean the entire thing by yourself. Which meant it was going to be a few hours before you could go home, a few hours before you could go sleep this horrible, awful day away. Even worse, you were sure that something would go wrong during those next few hours that would prolong the time even longer. 

Throughout the whole day, ever since you first realized you’d missed the bus, you had felt tears pricking your waterline, but you had managed to hold them in. You were going to wait until you were in your own bedroom, in private, before you even thought of letting them out. But now, as you stood there, staring at the mess in front of you, you could no longer hold them in.

It was like the floodgates had opened up, and all of the emotions you’d been restraining all day were released. A sob racked through your body, and you were no longer able to keep yourself steady, your knees unbuckling beneath you and causing you to collapse onto the floor. It was wildly embarrassing, the way you became a mess on the floor of the dirtiest room you’d ever seen, where anyone could walk in and see you. 

And of course, because stupid Murphy just had to be right, that was exactly what happened. 

There was a soft knock at the door, and you hurriedly looked over your shoulder to see the absolute last person you wanted to see poking his head in. You were overcome with horror as you snapped your head around to look away, praying as hard as you could to whatever deity would listen that he hadn’t seen your tears. 

“Woah, are you crying?” He asked, and you shook your head.

“No. Why would I be crying?” You sniffled, picking up the rag and spray bottle you had dropped onto the floor and standing up. He caught a glimpse of your face again when you walked past, and he scoffed. 

“You’re totally crying. Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” He asked again, stepping further into the storage closet and shutting the door behind him. 

You shot him a glare as you attempted to stand one of the racks back up. “I’m not crying. Besides, even if I were, I’m not telling you. You’ll just make fun of me.” You mumbled the last part. Standing the rack up was proving to be futile. 

“No I wouldn’t!” He defended himself, watching as you struggled to push the rack up. “Here, let me help you with that--”

“No!” You snapped at him, and he backed up with his hands held up defensively. You tried one more time to stand it up, and let out a frustrated groan when it once again wouldn’t budge. You had no choice but to surrender, and move to the side so Beomgyu could help you. 

You were angry that you had to get his help to move the stupid thing. Now you were forced to be thankful he had showed up and barged in. “Thanks.” You muttered, brushing past him as you went to once again get your little rag and bottle.

“You’re welcome.” Beomgyu replied, and though you were facing away from him, you could hear his annoying, cocky smile in his voice. “So, are you going to tell me why you were crying?” 

“No.”

“Oh, so you were crying!”

“I didn’t say that.” You looked up at him as you sprayed cleaner onto the dusty shelf. “I told you already, didn’t I? I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Unfortunately, he didn’t seem as willing to drop the subject as he had earlier in the day. “Come on, Y/N. I saw you crying, you’re clearly upset, just tell me about it!” 

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“No I won’t!” He exclaimed, sounding exasperated. You raised an eye at his outburst, and he cleared his throat. “Seriously. I won’t.” He softened his tone, looking at you with pleading eyes. 

You stared back at him, trying to figure out if you could trust him. This was Choi Beomgyu you were talking about, the boy who had tormented you for years on end with his constant teasing. But, he did look very sincere. And you were sort of itching to rant to someone. 

“Fine. My phone didn’t charge last night, so my alarm never went off, so I woke up late, then I missed the bus and had to run to school, and then I got detention, and then I got a C on my stupid history test, and then Sumin spilled her stupid soda on me, so I had to wear this stupid uniform from the lost and found, and-and then I had to come here and clean this stupid closet, and I’m just so tired, and I-I--” The next thing you knew you were crying again, your breath hitching in the back of your throat as the tears spilled onto your cheeks once again. 

The second the sobs slipped from your lips again, Beomgyu rushed around the shelf, slipping his arms around your trembling body and pulling you close to his chest. You were so desperate for any kind of comfort, you didn’t bother trying to push him away. Instead, you leaned into his touch, reaching up to grip onto the edge of his uniform jacket. He began to rub your back as you buried your face into his shirt, letting yourself cry--like, really cry. You thought you were going to pass out at any second from how difficult it was for you to catch your breath between sobs. 

After enough of his fingers rubbing circles into your back and his soft shh’s whispered into your ear, you were slowly able to calm down to the point you could breathe again. It was truly unbelievable that you were here, in some dusty storage closet crying into Choi Beomgyu’s arms. It was not a position you had ever predicted yourself to be in. And yet…

You didn’t totally hate it.

“Can I tell you something?” Beomgyu asked softly, and with a small sniffle, you nodded against his shirt. “The reason I tease you so much… It’s so embarrassing…” He laughed softly, and you gently pulled your head away, looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?” You asked, and as he gazed down at you, his cheeks reddened. 

“Um… When we were in first grade, I tried to copy off of your test, once…”

“Yeah, I knew that.”

“What?! No you didn’t, I was so subtle, you didn’t even notice.” He shook his head, and you rolled your eyes. “But anyways, that’s not the point. I was trying to copy off your test, but I remember, I made the mistake of looking at your face--”

“What’s wrong with my face?” You asked defensively, a frown befalling your features.

“Let me finish!” He snapped at you, and out of curiosity to hear the rest of the story, you conceded. “So, I made the mistake of looking at your face, and you were all focused, and had your tongue sticking out of the side of your mouth,” he paused to allow a giggle to escape his lips. 

“And I remember thinking you were so cute, and then I got so distracted watching you, by the time you got up to turn your test in, I had missed everything you had written down.”

You stared at him in confusion, trying to figure out what on Earth the point of this whole story was. “What…?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, Y/N. You’re the top of all our classes, and you can’t figure it out?” 

You shook your head, and he let out a defeated sigh.

“I’m saying, Y/N, that I tease you because…” He paused, sucking in a shaky breath. “Because I like you, okay?” 

“Oh.” 

Oh.

Beomgyu liked you? Since first grade? You were unable to process his words, playing them in your head on repeat like some kind of broken record. He liked you. He annoyed the hell out of you, just because he liked you. What kind of middle school boy behavior was that? 

“Oh? Is that all you have to say to my heartfelt confession?” He asked in fake offense, and you quickly shook your head. 

“No! I’m just--it’s just--you like me? As in like-like me?” He nodded in confirmation, and you squinted your eyes at him. As he watched you, your gaze drifted down to his jacket, which you had been clinging onto just moments earlier, and the tear soaked fabric. 

You felt like you should be absolutely appalled by his confession, and wracked with disgust, or something. You weren’t supposed to like Beomgyu! You weren’t supposed to be able to even stand him! But, his confession wasn’t the worst thing you had ever heard. In fact, as your fingers reached out to graze the edge of his jacket, you thought maybe you sort of liked hearing it.

“Y/N?” He asked you quietly, and you hummed in answer. “You don’t have to say anything, you know. In fact, if you really want me to, I can leave. Or you can leave, and I’ll finish cleaning for you--”

Maybe it was because you were in an emotionally crazed state, or you were desperate to prove Murphy wrong, hell, maybe it was just because you liked him back, but whatever it was, something overcame you, and the next thing you knew, you were tightening your fingers around his jacket to pull him close to you and press your lips against his. 

The first thing you thought when you kissed Choi Beomgyu, was why hadn’t you done this sooner? You had been so consumed by your dislike towards him, and too focused on other things like your academics, you had never stopped to think of Beomgyu in this way. But now, as he immediately kissed you back, and wrapped his arms around your waist, you wished you had thought of him this way. 

Because kissing Choi Beomgyu was absolutely not wrong. Rather, it was very, very right. It was like his lips were made to fit perfectly against your own, as they moved together in unison. You started to think all the bad things that had gone down that day weren’t so bad if it meant they would lead to this. 

After what felt like an eternity of heavy breathing and hot kisses, the two of you finally pulled away, resting your foreheads against one another as you attempted to catch your breath. You glanced up at Beomgyu, a small grin spreading across your face to mirror his own. 

“Hey, do you really want to clean all this shit?” He asked quietly, cocking an eyebrow at you. You shook your head. “Didn’t think so. Let’s get out of here, we’ll just tell them I kidnapped you, or something. You’re the Pres, they’ll believe us.”

Running away now was risking even further punishment, but Beomgyu was right. You were the president, you could basically do whatever you wanted. Besides, you’d spent all day trying to do the right thing, and still, everything had gone wrong. So, why not live a little, right? And why not do it with the cute boy who just confessed he’d liked you since the first grade?

You nodded. “Okay.”  

permanent tag list: @jakeshands @therealhyunjingf @exohclipse @ttyunz @naveries @mazeinthemoon @luvsoobs @n0-thisispatrick @arizzu @dewyboi @yeonboy

#⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ 1k celebration #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagine #beomgyu drabble #beomgyu oneshot #choi beomgyu imagine #choi beomgyu oneshot #choi beomgyu drabble #txt beomgyu #txt x reader #txt imagine #txt oneshot #txt drabble

[bravevulnerability]

Hi! Huge fan of your writing. I come back to fics repeatedly when I need a pick-me-up or the urge to re-read a certain one. Believing Is Seeing is one of my top faves..I was wondering if you'd consider ever doing a fic in which Kate is the disabled one with a service dog. After getting injured on the job (not relating to her mom's case cause that'd be awful) she's depressed and the dog helps heal her spirit & give life back. Maybe AU meeting or he runs into them after he left for some reason.

A/N: I’m not quite sure if this is what you’re hoping for, anon. But I really hope you’re able to enjoy it. :)

-

It’s his scent that hits her first. 

Kate’s fingers stutter over the page of the book she’s trying to read. Granted, she tells herself, there are probably tons of men scattered throughout this city with the same cologne, the same aftershave, but… there’s something mixed in with the scent that has always been only him. 

Dovah rustles at her feet, squirming from beneath the cafe table to investigate the approaching figure. But her dog’s lack of growl, lack of tension, and the soft touch of the coffee cup to the table in front of her only confirms it.

“Grande skim latte, two pumps of sugar-free vanilla still your order?”

After three months of not hearing it, his voice is like a tidal wave to her senses. Deep, rich, devastating.

She clears her throat, closes the book she’s been attempting to get through for the last week. Her braille has improved magnificently in the past few months, but reading for the sake of pleasure has yet to become pleasurable again. 

Dovah whimpers, an affectionate sound of greeting she typically reserves only for Kate. 

And one other person.

“Dovah,” Castle says warmly. She catches the dip in his voice, the likely lowering to his haunches to greet the dog, and feels Dovah rush forward into Rick’s waiting arms. With anyone else, her dog would be skittish, skeptical, ready to snap at the smallest hint of danger or discomfort aimed at Kate. But she’d never turn on Rick. 

He’s the one who got her the damn dog in the first place.

“Castle,” she murmurs, gingerly reaching forward to skim her fingertips along the travel cup he’s placed on the table. 

Her hearing is better than before, far more honed since the loss of what she once considered her most vital sense. She catches the shallow intake of his breath with ease, listens to the thick swallow that trembles down his throat. 

“Kate.” He rises slowly, releasing the air held hostage in his lungs. “You look good.”

She remembers his face, never forgot it. She remembers the defined angles of his jaw, his cheeks and the apples that formed in them when he smiled, the harsh slope of his nose, and those ocean eyes. God, she hates how much she misses looking at him, wishes she did more of it when she had the chance. He was beautiful.

“Wish I could say the same.”

He chokes on a startled noise, a horrified hint of laughter that has her lips cracking a smile that’s been non-existent since… since she made him leave. 

The smile falls clean off her face. 

“How long have you been in here?”

She wonders if he’s doing that ‘boy caught in the act’ kind of shrug she was once quite fond of. 

“Maybe ten minutes,” he estimates, but it sounds like a lie. “Can I sit with you?”

She refrains from biting her lip, knowing it’ll give her away. Instead, her fingers curl around the travel cup’s sleeve, guiding it to her lips.

“Just until I finish my coffee.”

-

Dovah drapes herself across their feet, her body pressed against Rick’s shin, her head on Kate’s boots. It’s a habit she remembers forming back when he first brought the dog home. Well, to Kate’s home. 

“How is Alexis? She messaged me about the application process for Stanford a few weeks ago,” she reveals softly, knowing he’s rooting for Alexis to choose a New York - or at least an East Coast - school for college. 

“Ah, yeah, she let me know she was going to reach out to you,” he murmurs. She can hear his knuckles cracking lightly, the slight inhale of his breath. “I told her that I hoped she had better luck than me.”

Her lips purse. 

“But otherwise, she’s great. How’s your summer been, Kate?” The bitterness is quiet, but threaded like poison through his words, stinging her.

Miserable, she wants to blurt, but takes a long sip of her coffee instead. 

“I’ve just been getting accustomed to my new job,” she admits, brushing her thumb back and forth along the sleeve of her cup. “Can’t live off savings forever.”

“How’s transcription work going in the courts?” he asks her, his voice lowering to a perfect tenor. 

Her hearing has felt enhanced since she’s lost what was initially her main sense of identification, and he always knew it sometimes felt too loud in the world now. 

“I saw the guys recently,” he adds by way of explanation.

Kate releases a shaky breath, traces the plastic rim of her coffee cup. “I hate it.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the apology so earnest, overlapping his irritation. It has her chest aching. 

After the accident, Castle stepped up for her, became her source of comfort, her listening ear, her… everything. More than he was before somehow. 

She hasn’t been able to open up to anyone else, not like she did with him. Not even her therapist. 

“I told you, you could’ve been a trophy wife.”

She laughs despite herself. “Yeah, I’m sure that would have worked out great.”

“What about editing? You could be my editor!”

Her eyes roll. “Castle.”

“C’mon, you’re a total grammar snob. I could have it printed in braille. We still have that special printer at the house!” he recalls, the excitement building slow but true in his voice. “All you’d have to do is go over it for me and tell me where all the wrong commas and run-on sentences are.”

Reluctantly, Kate removes her hand from her coffee, reaches across the table space between them until her fingers knock against his. With a shallow breath, she hooks her pinky around his, squeezes gently.

“Thank you, but I don’t think the literary world is for me.” She sighs and begins to let go, but he gingerly flips his hand under hers, encompasses her fingers in his palm. “Don’t worry about me, Castle.”

He scoffs at her. 

“Kate, that’s not something I can just turn off.”

She swallows hard and pulls her hand back. 

“It was really good to… sit with you again,” she finishes lamely, clicking her tongue once and feeling Dovah rise to attention beneath the table. 

“Kate.”

She ignores him, fixing the leash around her wrist and rising from the chair. 

“Please tell Alexis and Martha hi for me,” she adds softly, brushing her knuckles to his shoulder. “Dovah, home.” 

Dovah leads her to the door, out into the growing chill of the city. The coffee shop she frequents is only a couple of blocks from her apartment, a safe place where she can pretend to be normal for a little while, and an easy venture for Dovah to guide her through.

It only takes her a few minutes of walking down the sidewalk to huff in irritation. 

“If you think I can’t feel you right there-”

“It’s so creepy how you do that,” Castle curses, but then his hand is curling delicately along her inner arm. It’s a warm, familiar touch that penetrates the layers of her clothing. A touch that has her chest tightening. “Just listen to me, then I’ll leave. I haven’t seen you in three months, you owe me this.”

Kate exhales through her nose. “Fine.”

“You know I love you-“

“Castle,” she breathes, her heart constricting inside her sternum, arteries tangling into knots.

“And I know it must have scared you, that you probably have some weird idea in your head that it’s all some pity crush I developed after you lost your sight, but Kate… I was done for from the moment you crashed my book party and you know it,” he murmurs, his voice low but so matter of fact. “Working with you for the past year leading up to the explosion… Beckett, you have to have known.”

She chews on her lip until she tastes the spill of copper on her tongue. 

“When that asshole blew up your apartment, I ran for my life to get to you, because that’s what you had become-”

“Rick, please-”

“You, my daughter, my mother… you’re my life. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you had to lose so much - your sight, your home, your job. I would give anything to trade places with you, to give it all back-”

That has her jerking to a stop. “No.”

“I just-”

“Are we on a crowded sidewalk?” 

Usually she would know the answer without help, but the blood is rushing in her ears. 

“No, we’re on Franklin street, at the crosswalk before your apartment,” he relays patiently. “There’s some traffic, but nothing too severe.”

“Good, then listen to me,” she mutters, turning her face towards him. “Even knowing what I know now, I would endure it all again if it meant saving you this fate, okay? You running into a burning building for me was bad enough.”

“I would do it again-”

“That is the problem!” she growls, jerking her arm from him and clicking her tongue twice.

Dovah trots forward. She knows Castle is at her back, following her home. 

“Ms. Beckett, Mr. Castle,” the doorman greets, confirming her suspicion.

The elevator doors slide closed, trapping the two of them in the lift, Dovah sitting patiently between them.

“You have a brilliant daughter, a wonderful mother, and amazing talent, Castle. All I gave you,” she murmurs, reaching forward, taking those beautiful hands in hers, cradling the scorched skin, the uneven patches of flesh. He ran into a burning building for her when Scott Dunn set her apartment aflame, he picked through searing debris to pull her charred body from the ashes. The door that landed on her actually shielded her from the worst of the fire, but his hands are covered in second and third degree burns that will take years to fully heal. “Is pain.”

“Wounds heal, Kate.”

“You lost feeling you’ll never get back in some areas,” she whispers, her thumb skirting along the edge of his wrist, the outer bone of his index finger - spots she’s memorized. “You can barely write.”

“You think I didn’t know the risks?” He draws his hands back from hers. “We’ve had this conversation, you’re just too damn stubborn to listen.” His hands touch her cheeks, palms cradling her jaw. “I wanted you more.”

The elevator chimes and she steps out of his grasp, taking the well-memorized path to her apartment, snagging the keys from inside her coat.

“So is that it?” he questions at her back, voice raising. She walks in, leaves the door open, and unhooks Dovah from the leash. “We spend months together, healing, being… happy and you just - you get scared and we’re done?”

Kate shrugs the coat from her shoulders, tosses it on the couch. She doesn’t want to think about the months that followed the explosion - the months spent in the loft with him and his family once they were both released from the hospital. Agent Shaw successfully arrested Scott Dunn, but she could barely find the will to care, to feel any sort of victory. 

The doctors told her she was blind - temporary or permanent, it was too soon to know, but the blunt force trauma from the blast had her head slamming hard against the floor, a random piece of furniture, a wall - no one knew - and she woke up unable to see. The last thing she remembers is a blurry image of Castle, stripping off his coat and wrapping her battered body in his arms, carrying her to safety. 

The first month was nothing but grief for her. Grieving her sight and the domino effect of loss that came with it - her career, her apartment, her… her purpose, her mom’s murder. All of it was out of reach now, gone. 

Castle was the only thing to remain in the darkness. 

He snuck into her hospital room every night, listening intently to her confess her fears, her anger, her pain. The first time he crawled into the hospital bed beside her, she let him hold her, bandaged hands at her back. 

“I’m never going to see you again,” she rasped into his throat, tears finally falling. “Castle, I can’t see you.”

She buried sobs into his neck, fell asleep against his chest. 

He didn’t let her argue about where she would stay once they were released. They moved what little possessions she still owned into his bedroom. He refused to make her walk upstairs until she was more familiar with her surroundings and her blindness. She refused to let him stay in the guest room.

Their routine from the hospital carried on into the new normal of her life. They would spend mornings in the same buildings, in different areas of burn units and physical therapy clinics, and then he would take her on a walk through the calmer parts of the city - his favorite parks, the length of the High Line, along the Hudson on the west side of Manhattan. He couldn’t hold her hand, so she gripped tightly to the arm of his sweater, trusting him with her life as he led her through a city she once thought she could navigate with her eyes closed. They would return to the loft eventually, the two of them figuring out how to make dinner together (“I’m literally blind and you can’t use your hands, this will be great,” she muttered the first time, making him choke on a laugh) and spending evenings with his mother and daughter. 

Alexis threw herself into learning braille, rushing in after school and meeting Kate in the dining room with a stack of books tucked under her arms. Together, they would pour over materials, memorizing a new alphabet, talking through the hardest parts.

She still misses her study partner. 

At the end of the night, Rick would touch her shoulder and lead her to his bedroom. She would shower and he would wait outside the bathroom to ensure she maneuvered through the process safely. Once dressed, she would help cover his fingers in the cooling, antibiotic salve the doctors prescribed him. 

“They’re feeling a little better,” she would examine, the varying terrains of his skin like a map to her fingers. The broken skin and cracked flesh ranged from the tips of multiple fingers to the edges of his wrists, luckily going no further. The doctor had personally promised her that Castle would heal fine, but the assurances failed to assuage her guilt. 

“They’re looking better each day,” he would confirm, gingerly sweeping his thumb along hers. “They definitely hurt less.”

After wrapping his hands, washing hers, she would crawl into bed beside him, sinking into the warmth of his mattress and the safety of his body next to hers. 

The routine instilled a level of trust in him she never thought she was capable of, but he proved worthy of it. No longer was he the playboy wannabe she had begun to doubt was an act all along; instead, she was met with a man who would stay up all night with her when she couldn’t sleep, who swore to her with fierce reassurance that she would be okay, that she would reclaim her life, and that he would be there for her every step of the way. 

He was the man who - exactly a month after the accident - got her a dog straight out of the best academy of guide dogs for the blind that he could find. 

“Her name is Dovah. She’s eighteen months old, a german shepherd mix, has bright blue eyes, brown and white fur, and she’s very happy to meet you,” he murmured, barely contained joy in his voice as she listened to him set the dog on the bed with her that morning. 

Kate reached out hesitantly and immediately felt the dog’s head come up under her palm. 

“Her handlers said she was strong, dedicated, and extremely protective. Reminded me of you.”

The smile had tugged on her lips and they had spent the morning practicing commands with a dog that became a lifeline for her. 

Castle helped her find her new apartment shortly after, swearing it was exactly her style, and enjoying every moment of helping her shop for and furnish the place. 

“It’ll be weird without you,” she confessed to him that first night she moved into the new building in Tribeca. 

They were standing together in a bedroom she couldn’t see, but apparently, he had outfitted her bed with purple sheets and put pictures of her parents on the nightstand. Her appliances were all fitted with braille instruction, Dovah was set up in the living room, Alexis had even made her a map to be sure she wouldn’t get lost in the new place - she had everything she could need. 

He reached for her hand with still healing fingers, drew hers to his cheek so she could “see” his expression while he spoke. 

“I’m just a phone call away. Less than ten minutes from here, five if I make a run for it,” he promised her, but her fingers trailed along his cheek, traveling the planes of his face. 

Her thumb skimmed the paper thin skin beneath his eyes, following the soft wrinkles expanding from the edge of his lashes to his temple. 

“What if I don’t want you to go?”

His breath was uneven, but he kissed her palm. “Then I won’t.”

Her fingers curled, as if she could trap his kiss there. But instead, she lowered them to his chin, steadied her hand there as she stepped closer. 

“Castle?”

His hands were touching her waist, steadying her, guiding her near. “Yes?”

She tipped her head up, pretended she could still see the ocean blue of his eyes on her. Their noses bumped, the heat of his breath skittering across her lips, and she lowered her fingers to his neck, felt the race of his pulse beneath the skin. 

“Will you kiss me?” 

It took only a moment for him to close the distance, kissing her gentle and slow and wonderful. She learned then that when Richard Castle kissed her, she could see the stars again. 

She hummed into his kiss, gently shut the bedroom door so not to startle Dovah, already dozing on her new couch. 

“Stay.” His mouth curved into a smile against hers. “Stay with me, Rick.”

“Yes,” he whispered, pressing her into the new bed. 

For months more, she forgot to feel afraid. She let herself enjoy the days leading up to the summer, let herself exist in the bubble of her new life with Castle and Dovah and his family. 

Until he told her he loved her, lying in his bed on a Tuesday night after a game of special braille scrabble with his daughter and a long shower together in his bathroom.

“I love you,” he murmured in the quiet of the night, the scars of his hands scraping along her cheekbone. The returning words were already swollen in her throat, how much she loved him back, but… all she could see behind her eyes was how much Castle loved her. What he did for those he loved.

Bursting into burning buildings, ruining his body, turning his life upside down. All for her. 

She couldn’t say it back, so she kissed him, hoped he felt it, hoped he knew. Because the next day, she took Dovah, went home, and asked him for space. 

“If it’s because of what I said-”

“No,” she told him over the phone, her face buried in her pillow, Dovah curled into her chest as if she could keep Kate’s heart from further fracturing. “No, Castle. I just - we’ve been through a lot these last few months and I need some time.”

“Okay, how much time?”

“I don’t know, I’ll - I’ll call you,” she lied, fisting her fingers in Dovah’s thick fur. 

She didn’t call. She forced herself not to call and she hated herself for it, for how much she knew it had to hurt. But he didn’t deserve the life she could give him, the sad world of leading around a blind woman who would always be mourning the past. 

She didn’t call because she loved him back, and she wanted better for him. 

The press of his chest at her back jerks her to the present. His palms are warm over her shoulders, his hips a bracket around hers, and she can’t help it, she leans into him.

“I miss you, Kate,” he mumbles into her hair. “My kid misses you, my mother. I’ve missed you so much the last three months. Just tell me how to fix whatever I did-”

“No,” she rasps, digging the heel of her hand into one of her useless eyes. “Rick, it isn’t you. It was never you. I’m damaged goods and I wanted more for you. I want to be more-”

“What are you talking about?” She’s shaking, her chest quivering with tears she’s been holding in for months. His arms are around her now, holding her together, and she scrambles to find his hands, to layer her palms over his scarred knuckles. “What the hell are you talking about and why weren’t we talking about this sooner? Why did you disappear on me?”

“Because I love you too,” she chokes out, shifting in his arms to face him, to lift trembling hands to his face, feel the downturned curve of his mouth, the ache in his eyes that radiates to his cheeks. “I love you and it scares me. It scares me to love someone like this, to let you love me, to - to risk losing it all. And god, Castle, I just - I didn’t want you stuck with me. I didn’t want you to think you had to love me because I’m so - so broken-”

His lips quiet her, sealing over her words and stealing her breath. Kate groans, fanning her fingers at his cheek to feel the work of his jaw, fisting her other hand in the worn fabric of a flannel she’s felt before. Her back bumps into the door and then her world is nothing but the sensation of Castle kissing her again, his body flush with hers, hands in her hair, angling her face upwards so he can kiss her deeper. 

“You are not broken,” he growls into her mouth, nipping on her bottom lip. “You are the same woman I knew before the explosion. You are strong, you are caring, and you are hot.”

Her lips crack into a watery smile beneath his. 

“And everything in between, Kate Beckett. You are everything I want. Always have been. Living together, healing together - it just made me fall in love with you faster,” he murmurs, dusting his lips to the corner of her mouth, the bone of her cheek, the lid of a closed eye. “But don’t think for a second that we wouldn’t have ended up here sooner or later, no matter what.”

His forehead drops against hers. 

“God, you’re so damn stubborn and I am so angry with you right now,” he mutters into her cheek, the words vibrating against her skin. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this earlier?”

“I panicked,” she admits, caressing the lines of his jaw with exploratory fingertips, the frown on his lips, the crease of his brow. “I thought - I was scared and I wanted to be selfless. I figured you would see how much I took from your life once I was gone.”

“Stupid,” he corrects, earning a huff, but he only nuzzles closer to her. “Stupid sometimes, but still extraordinary. That never changed, Kate.”

She cranes her neck, finds the corner of his mouth with her lips. “I’m so sorry, Castle.” He turns into the kiss, lets her have the work of his mouth for a long moment before he bumps his nose against hers. “I understand if you need time to-”

“No,” he gruffs, fingers bruising against her hips. “I gave you time, space. No more.”

She sighs, trails her fingers down his throat, caressing collarbones. 

“No,” she agrees, staining another apology along his chin. “I don’t want any more space either. I just want you.”

His arms wrap around her, damaged hands splaying firm at her spine. 

“Come back home,” he mumbles into her lips. “I’m not asking you to move in yet, just come watch movies on my couch, play scrabble with my kid, share my bed with me three to four nights a week.”

A quiet laugh echoes between them, she ignores the little flip of her heart at his yet, and nods. 

“Yes, but can we… can I have you to myself tonight, Castle?” she whispers, feeling his adam’s apple bob beneath the flutter of her fingertips. “These last three months… I ruined our summer and I want to make it up to you, but I want to talk this through. I need to be better about talking.”

Rick’s lips brush the skin between her brows, a pleased little quirk of his mouth against her skin. “Of course. Let me just text Alexis, let her know what’s going on so she doesn’t worry.”

“If she’s not okay with it-”

“She missed you, Kate, was a little confused and disappointed when you stopped seeing me, but I don’t think she’s upset with you,” he reassures her.

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow, take her for coffee or something,” she murmurs aloud, chewing on her bottom lip.

“I’m sure she’ll love that.”

“I’ll bring Dovah, I know that’s who you guys really missed.”

She hears the click of her dog’s nails on the hardwood floor across the room, likely coming in from the kitchen that houses her food and water bowls. 

“I mean, she was certainly an added benefit to your presence,” Castle sighs, drawing her from the door, fingers sliding down her arms to find her hands. 

She laces her fingers through his. 

“Where are we going?” she asks, even though she already has an idea.

“To your room, to talk, maybe do some packing,” he chirps, guiding her along after him, but she can hear the grin in his voice, the mischief that lies there. 

“That all?”

“Well, if we can squeeze it in, I was planning on showing you how much I missed you, maybe punishing you a little bit for making me miss you that much for the whole summer,” he muses, one of his arms jerking with what she assumes is a shrug. “But only if we have the time. It’s still early, there’s always tonight.”

“No,” she murmurs, covering the space between them when he slows. Her chest touches his and she swears she can feel the acceleration of his heart against hers. “We have longer.”

#castle fanfiction #castle au #kate beckett #richard castle #prompt #anon #mine

[bluury2]

I've been reading a fic called "a dark among the lights" by @luckylectio and I couldn't help but make a mini fic based off of it!

This scenario has been floating in my brain, and yes I know the logic doesn't fully make sense and probably may never happen but it's a fun thing to think about, this was so fun to write!

"When Dark meets Light"

Sky was fighting for his life after the monster they were fighting was overpowering him by the minute, the monsters sword clashed down and hit the master sword out of his hand, shooting it to the left and into the dirt upright.

Sky, shocked, lost his balance, and the monster took advantage of this. Full force the monster slashed his dominant arm.

No one is able to help him as there are other monsters nearby by occupying the others, Legend is the closest to sky but still too far away to stop the monster as it slowly raised its sword high.

_____________

Sky was one of the only ones (aside from twilight) that didn't attack on sight of him and actually heard him out.

Dark looks terrified, he stands watching this all happen.

He wasn't allowed a weapon incase he decided to use it againt the chain.

He couldn't just stand there doing nothing to stop sky from dying. He sees the master sword perched in the dirt. His feet move on impulse.

He runs for the sword, making the last minute decision to push through the burns to help sky.

He runs, he grabs the sword, bracing himself for the pain.

Nothing happend.

He doesn't notice at first, running behind the monster and stabbing it enough times before it could bring down its sword against sky, killing it.

Straight after it poofs into a cloud of purple and black, He didn't notice the rest of the chain killing off their share of the enimes and looks to sky.

"Are you ok? Shit." He looks at sky's wounds and calls for a potion and bandages. But everyone was just staring at him with wide eyes.

"What? Are you surprised I actually defended one of your asses?" He says as a snarky remark, they still don't say a word. He follows their eyes to his hands,

Dark gasps as he hears the master sword chime and glow a blue light. Sky is the first to break the silence

"You..your holding her.., how...?"

Hyrule jogs over to sky to tend to his wounds as the rest gather round, twilight going straight to dark.

"Are your hands ok?" He says worryingly

Dark switches hands to inspect the hand holding the master sword, nothing. No burns. No cuts. Nothing.

Even Dark couldn't make a snarky remark at this..

Time speaks up "well would you look at that... seems like it thinks your worthy to weild it..."

time narrows his eyes at the sword, thinking about what it did to him, wondering why a ten year old boy wasn't worthy enough to weild it but a being of Dark was...

"Usually she's a lot more picky..." he says with a grimace.

Dark does take notice of how time uses "it" for the sword, a habit he was on the receiving end of not long ago.

Sky piped up "Dark...he...you saved my life...thank you"

Dark looked at sky and gave a small genuine one sided smile, his bright red eyes scrunching slightly.

"Don't mention it, I'm just glad your ok" sky smiles at Dark as he helps him up after hyrule patched sky up.

Why hasn't she burned me yet?

Dark can't help but wonder why now? How? He's a Dark being, too many questions, with so little answers.

The master sword was certainly a confusing concept

But he doesn't take the time he was able to hold her for granted. He saved a friend's life. That's why she let him hold her. He wanted to save her master.

#this is such a cool concept to me #legend of zelda #linked universe #loz #the legend of zelda #link #lu fanart #my fic #legend lu #sky lu #lu legend #lu #lu sky #lu dark link #dark link #linked universe time #lu time #linkeduniverse #a dark among the lights fic #fic of a fic #lu twilight #dink #the chain #master sword #lu fi

[spctrsgf]

Inspired by your ‘attack’ story, what if marc and the reader get into a fight over something(significant or not its your choice!) and they end up raising their voice & he goes into panic from his trauma. Fluffy ending pls he needs all the reassurance & love he can get!! If you’re not comfortable writing this thats fine <3

try me

a contination of the attack

word count: 1.8k

warnings: established relationship, language, panic attack, angsty then floof

a/n: anon. you are my first request everrrr! that's crazy * insert lil celebration dance here* thank you so much for your request, and i hope i interpreted it right

You had to get home.

You had to get home, and fast.

The sun didn’t slow its steady descent towards the horizon, even as you glared and grumbled at it while willing your feet to move faster. The decision to walk home from work was one you were quickly regretting as the back of your calves burned and your grip on your bag tightened. Time wasn’t your friend either as you lifted your wrist to check it, noticing that it had inched to a full ten minutes since you’d scrambled out of your office.

It wasn’t entirely your fault, really. A colleague of yours had wanted you to proof something of theirs before the big meeting they had tomorrow, and being the person you are, you just couldn’t say no. It’d pushed your departure from the office closer and closer to the sunset, and before you knew it, it was five o’clock. 

Marc didn’t like it when you were late. You were a punctual person, very rarely late, and he was a big ball of anxiety. You knew all too well about worrying about the millions of things that could have gone wrong as you waited for him to understand his same line of thought. Last time you’d been late, he’d been two seconds away from summoning the suit and flying out to find you himself.

Come on, you can move faster than this. You pushed yourself to break into yet another spur of jogging, clutching your bag closer to your body to prevent it from slamming into your side. Your apartment building was in sight; after a few strides you managed to slide in the door and then the elevator, thanking the kind person who held open the door for you.

“In a rush?” She asked, smooth British slicing through the silence. “Yeah,” you nodded, reaching over to press the button for the fifth floor. “My boyfriend is waiting for me at home.”

The woman’s gaze followed your hand. “Fifth floor, huh? Who’s the lucky man?”

You paused, unsure whether you should mention Marc or Steven. Did Jake even introduce himself to anyone? “Uh, do you know Steven Grant?”

“The quaint little British man? A little all over the place?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, that’s Steven for ya.”

“I know him. Nice fellow.”

“Yeah, he’s great.”

The woman went to say something, surely about Steven, but the elevator rang and opened up to your floor. You shifted your bag strap and walked out, turning around to wave and say goodbye to the woman, to which she returned with a bright smile. The small gesture put you in a good mood and your lips stayed in a smile as you walked to the apartment, knocking in the knowledge that Marc would be there.

Yeah, about that happiness? Marc’s expression wiped it clean from your face.

His lips were a barely visible thin line, his hair was unruly yet looked like it’d been run through several times. His eyes were hard and his silence was like a punch to the gut as he simply stepped aside and let you pass. You ducked your head and fumbled through your routine of putting away your stuff, well aware of the piercing stare scrutinizing every move you made. 

When you turned around again to face Marc, he was right behind you and grabbing your arms, twisting you left and right. “Marc,” you shoved his hand off your shoulder. “I’m fine.” He sighed. “I just need to make sure.”

“So you don’t just take my word for it?”

“I do, I just want to make sure myself.”

“Well,” you spun again and pinned him with an annoyed stare. “I’m fine. Now stop staring at me or you're gonna burn two holes into my sweater.”

Marc huffed, heading for the kitchen. “Jeez, I’m sorry for caring.”

You see, the rational part of you was screaming that you should stop there. That you should sigh and apologize, knowing that he would as well and that everything would cool down. Maybe you two would even get around to watching that show you both were procrastinating. 

Oh, but no, you kept going.

“That’s not showing you care, Marc! That’s babying me!”

“I’m trying to make sure you're okay! How is that babying you?”

“Why? Do you always think that if I walk outside I’m going to get fucking jumped?”

His hands tightened their grip on the countertop, turning white. “You know that I trust you–”

“No, I don't, Marc!” You yelled at his turned back, nearly shaking in fury. “Because you wouldn’t let me do shit!”

He whirled around then. “I don’t let you do shit, huh? I let you do way more shit than I want to!”

“Then you want to? You're not the only person in this relationship!”

“Yeah, you make that pretty fucking clear.”

“And why do you think I do that? I don’t want to be in another relationship where I’m being tugged around like a doll!”

Marc glared. “Really? Then don’t treat me like one either.”

You tossed your hands up in the air. “You're unbelievable.”

“I’m unbelievable? You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“Really?” Tears glistened in your angry eyes. “No wonder Layla left when you have this bitchy attitude.”

In hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have said that. Layla was always a topic that Marc very rarely brooched, and when he did, it was a small mention. Actually, most of the stuff you knew about her was from Steven, though you get the idea that he saw her in a more romanticized light than Marc’s down to earth viewpoint. Marc had a reason for his lack of excitement about talking about her, Steven said: he said that Marc didn’t want to think about her and instead he wanted to focus on you. 

And now you’ve gone and said something really bad. 

You watched as Marc’s brain registered the words, as it skittered through the circuit boards in his brain. His face fell from where it was scrunched up in anger and tears began to glisten in his eyes. Your legs propelled you forward and towards him as profuse apologies fell from your lips, but he shrank into himself. You stopped your pursuit as he held up shaky hands, begging you not to hurt him. 

You were dumbfounded, but mostly scared as Marc met the floor with a quiet sob, pulling his knees up to his chest. Each murmur of please don’t hurt me, I’ll be better dug into your conscience and scooped out a cup of guilt. Your own eyes were shedding tears and you wanted to shut down, to crash yourself in on the perpetual guilt of Marc’s panic attack, but you knew you had to stay strong and fix what you had started. 

You knew of a way your mom used to deal with your panic attacks. You hoped that it’d work as you backed away from him, putting a solid six feet between the two of you. You sighed as his shoulders relaxed a bit with the lack of proximity, and you gathered all of your will and put into hoping your plan would work. 

“Marc?” you tried quietly. “Marc, can you look at me?”

He shook his head violently. 

“Marc. I’m gonna need you to pick your head. You can do it, I believe in you.”

“I don’t wanna.” He mumbled, broken by surprise inhales as he came down from his crying. 

“I know it’s hard, I know. But I need you to look at me.”

He didn’t want to look up. He didn’t want to see the pity etched from your lips and the guilt hanging from your eyes. But he couldn’t control the way his head jerked up, nearly violently, and forced him to look into your eyes. He watched in surprise as your eyes softened in relief and your lips reached up to the ceiling in a shy yet proud smile. He watched your eyebrows, previously knit, relax and meet their resting position, your shoulders following the same movement. His own shoulders relaxed as well, glad to see that there was not an ounce of anger anymore in your stature.

“Hey.” you said with a smile, head tilting slightly as your eyes filled with love. “Hey.” his voice was more hoarse than yours, granted, but held the same tone.

“You alright? Anything I can get you?”

He shook his head. “No, I think I’m okay. Thanks.”

You nodded. “Listen, Marc–”

“Don’t apologize.” He pulled his hand up as if to block your next sentence, but the words still came tumbling off your tongue.

“I’m sorry. I was being unreasonable and I said some shit that I should have never said. To anyone. And-” you scooted closer. “Layla is stupid to have left you. I don't know much about what happened between you two, but I do know that anyone in their right mind wouldn’t leave you.”

“Maybe Layla was in her left one, then.”

You snorted. “Probably.”

“Yeah.” He let out a soft chuckle.

You smiled with what you were sure was a lovesick grin. “Glad Marc is finally back with me. Was worried there for a minute.”

Marc sighed, his eyes dropping from yours. “I’m sor—“

“Don’t apologize.”

“Why not?”

“Because you didn't do anything.”

“If I wasn't so easy to rile up-“

“No, Marc,” your voice was hard, but the said man didn’t flinch as you scooted even closer. “It’s not your fault. I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again.”

He nodded in slight defeat. “Yeah, I know. I’m getting there, I’m trying.”

“I know,” your hand reached out slowly, pulling his slightly shaking hand into your own so you could intertwine your fingers together. “And you’re doing amazing.”

His eyes shined with unshed tears, and he brought his free hand to wipe his eyes. “Gods, I can’t believe I’m crying right now.”

“I would have been crying minutes ago if I were you, so you’re doing way better than I am.” 

He brought his hand away from his face, meeting your gaze with his own lovesick one. “I love you.”

You grinned. “I love you more.”

“You wanna bet?” He pulled himself up, taking you with him.

You leaned in, pulling away when Marc tried to kiss you, laughing at the way he chased your lips. You stopped when he was a hair’s breadth away, each exhale fanning across his face. “Try me.”

#my first anon request omg #im crying #moon knight #moon knight tv #marc spector #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant #steven grant x you #jake lockley x you #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #oscar issac #oscar issac hernandez estrada #oscar issac x reader #oscar issac imagine #moon knight imagine #oscar issac x you #marvel

[y2ksnowglobe]

Deep appreciation for episode 30 (Van on the Run)

This is a long post where I just ramble on all the moments that make me love this episode.

The dethroning of fleshlight tag as the worst thing that anyone ever said.

The "Hey Andrew" story

Big old butt crack down the middle of the orb

Terry Jr. asking why Ron isn't wearing pants

"I'd better write that down as a note. Terry Jr., easy to lie to."

Lark literally taking a note about how unpaid interns die sometimes. (This turns into my firm belief that Mae Hailes is a paid intern)

Ron insisting Paeden is his half-brother. "My dad is my dad too!"

just gonna weep and tear my hair out real quick over that one.

Ron's insights on the patriarchy

"My stepson is here, and I am looking at him in the eye right now and it's not weird at all. It's not weird. We're just making eye contact right here." "It's a little weird. You have not blinked in several minutes." "Now it hurts to blink, so I'm not going to ever…" "That's not how it works. You have to blink." "No. It's like my eyes are getting…" "Dad, blink." Like what a way to start normalizing Terry Jr. calling Ron "Dad"

Sparrow's stealth hug

Just...starting to really see the dead inside Grant is both heartbreaking and really funny.

Nick's shaky fist bump makes me wanna cry.

I am always there for a good low perception roll joke.

Reveal that Ron just carries to lure that killed Willy around with him.

"Yeah! Your dad is George Washington!"

THEORY TIME: Like this episode is where we get most of our information about the kids' time in Ravenloft, and like...I don't buy it. Looking at how the kids phrase things, I've been solidly convinced that the O-Dads have Geas'ed the hell out of these kids so they can't give any specific details about what was done to them, but I feel like there's a loophole where they can talk about things that weren't done. So, for example: Nick specifies that Bill ignored him. I'll keep coming back to this as we keep going.

Weird detail: Darryl is with Glenn on the murder Henry's dad train at the start.

God I love to hate Barry Oak so much, he makes me skin crawl and he is in top form in this episode.

"I AM DRIVING WITH MY FRIENDS, FATHER! I'LL TALK TO YOU LATER!" It's such a teenager-y thing to say and I feel like it really gives a snapshot into what their relationship was like back in the day.

I really wanna get a snapshot into Nick's mind as he hears his dad completely lose his cool about Barry. Like, my boy did such a good job trying to act unbothered and brave, and then Glenn just is deeply and visibly upset about Barry almost killing him (which is valid, I just feel like it's a new experience for Nick)

Lark and Sparrow jumping in to drive when Henry lets go of the wheel. Like, not sure what happened with Sparrow, but Lark has been an epic driver from the get-go.

ANOTHER THEORY: Sparrow is really interesting in this episode. He willingly covers his ears when asked by Henry, and he's the one who hits the brakes when Henry tells them to stop the car. He's also just weirdly chill and forgiving, and like...I do not buy this as love wolf shit, he is clearly under some kind of magical influence to make him more compliant. You do not get the Sparrow that looks scared in the drone footage in episode 28 to this remarkably chill and forgiving kid without magical interference.

Freddie putting his foot down that Glenn would not mess with firearms while drunk

Barry's "Oh kakaw kakaw" when he's shot is probably in my top ten vocal stims from this show.

Lark enthusiastically supporting Glenn shooting Barry makes me so happy

Henry going from trying to be firm and calm as Glenn loses his shit, and immediately shifting to "ooooh, I hate you so much" as soon as Barry starts talking to him is so funny. Just all the ideals fly out the window.

Find it super interesting how Henry cites "respecting his choices" as a thing here considering what happens later on with the bracelets.

I both do and don't want to know if Anthony already had the idea for the Lark and Sparrow homunculi when Barry offers letting Henry take his kids and run and giving up all the other kids. Like regardless of whether or not it was planned, I do love the idea that Barry is giving this offer because he knows he's got the real ones tucked back in Oakvale.

I love the word abscond, okay?

Love Barry framing his failure as a father as disappointment in Henry's choices. I want to kick him in the face.

Mr. Mustache calling Ron "Honey"

"No. You just exasperatedly asked why a bunch of times. A.k.a. the Henry Oak special."

Geas theory follow up: Lark telling them they forgot to feed them fits into the loophole of being something the granddads didn't do, so they're allowed to mention it. Also this part of starting to hint at what exactly went down is so just *chefs kiss.*

Freddie's "WHY?" When Matt asks if Darryl can perceive that Ron peed his pants.

Freddie being told the charm needs to be in an enclosed space and immediately going "What if we had an umbrella?"

Freddie picking the first audio result for Fantasy Tavern for the sound.

"Bring us your hottest moms!"

This next bit always slays me and I don't even know why:

The jokes about the level one adventurer group is beautiful. I hope things turned out okay for that fighter and four rogues.

Henry making up Mr. X only for Mr. X to be real.

Ron thoroughly describing the fake voice he's going to do, only to reveal it's just his normal voice.

Ron's whole exchange with the other rogues.

Henry describing Glenn's fantasy voice as Italian

Anthony trying to keep up with what the crew are trying to do as they're attempting to get a room.

Also, everything is in shillings now for no adequately explained reason?

The random bar patrons who are gonna be so disappointed when they make it to the other side of town to find out that Hi I'm Ron is not playing.

The start of the NPCs realizing they could have asked for more money gag.

Glenn almost going to see what's up with Mr. X but then getting bored.

Anthony doing a C3P0 impression

Geas Theory update: Grant phrases it as "they weren't nice" and the most detail we get from Grant is that "Willy's really mean" only for him to then say, "It was fine, I guess." Terry tops out at saying that Willy "shouted at them a fair number of times" and that's as intense as any of their descriptions get. Like this is sus as heck. Especially since at minimum, we know that Lark and Sparrow got homunclui'd and that somehow, Barry got the twins to sit quietly. The boys are underselling this and the only one that would be in character for would be like...Nick (who we already saw was super shaky). Darryl even prompts Grant saying it's okay if it was rough and they were scared and we still get no further information.

Ron's scary story is so good for so many reasons. Like the way he tries to make it spookier by making Willy a man with a fishingpole for an arm, by calling fish "food that breathes underwater" like that mixed with the realization that he's telling the story of how Willy died is just...an excellent combo of scary and not scary and it's just a baffling bunch of weird that is pure Ron.

Terry being baffled by Ron asking if they want to sing Rock-a-bye Baby, only for it to turn out Ron doesn't know the words.

"You find more knives than not knife in his pants."

The fact that Lark was smuggling knives for a breakout attempt is just so lovely, go off my murderous little weirdo.

Also seeing Henry taking weapons from his kids knowing where this ends up is just (collapses into a ball of sad)

Henry deflecting from the werewolf questions by just switching to the topic of puberty, only for Sparrow to be too receptive to wanting to learn.

Darryl overhearing Paeden saying that Grant's dad is cool only for Grant to not say anything in response.

"Did Ron kill his dad?"

Seeing Darryl be actually upset about the fact that he's the only one who'd want to see his dad, but his dad's not there. And seeing Darryl actually grapple with the idea that he doesn't understand Glenn, Henry, and Ron's relationships with their dads, and like the weird feeling of not being able to relate being isolating, but still realizing it's an isolation you should be thankful for.

Ghost football ft. George Washington and one of his slaves

"Dude, that was the entire snarling id of the American masculine psyche in one image…It was like football, George Washington, your dad, and the Sword of Damocles that is slavery."

Glenn in the dream space

Bill Close calling Glenn tiger is just like such a small detail but it's like one of those moments that we really can actually see him being a dad, I think?

The gut punch of "Do you love me?" and "You wake up." like God DAMN!!!!!

Like this episode is such a buffet of character dynamics, and jokes, and lore, and room for theories, and I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!! WHY DID IT TAKE ME SO LONG TO REALIZE IT'S MY FAVORITE????????

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #ron stampler #willy stampler #bill close #glenn close dndads #darryl wilson #paeden bennetts #grant wilson #henry oak #sparrow oak #lark oak #terry jr. stampler #nick close #barry oak

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Vesuviella: Part 2

It’s afternoon now, and in the business of running a shop Julian’s late night visit has slipped your mind entirely. Until you see him strolling through your front door, looking slightly better rested and no less fired up.

“You ready to go, MC?”

“That depends on where you think we’re going.”

“Just up to the palace. I’m sure the shop won’t suffer too much if it’s closed a little early.”

You sigh and check the sun dial. You’ve had plenty of customers today, and it’s not too long from when you normally close. Besides, you need more details on what you’ve supposedly agreed to before it gets too far. “Give me ten minutes.”

When you make it out the door he’s already hailed a carriage for the two of you, holding out a gloved hand to help you in. You’re getting ready to ask your questions as soon as the coach lurches forward, but he’s beating you to it before you can open your mouth. “Now, if we can get Pasha to agree to this, it’ll make talking Nadia into it that much easier. They won’t mind the roles I’ve written for them once they get over the idea of acting for me.”

“And what story are we acting out?”

He startles and turns to you, one eye wide. “Did I forget to tell you? Ah – I must have been too caught up in the moment. We’re doing Cinderella. You’ll be Prince Charming, of course, Nadia will make an excellent King, and Pasha will be the evil stepmother. I thought of making her one of the mice, but you know how she loves to act out.”

“And the other roles?”

“You’ll ask Asra to be Cinderella. Then the two of you can convince that Muriel fellow to be the Queen. Don’t worry, I didn’t give him too many lines. And Lucio will be the Ugly Stepsister.”

“And you?”

“Well, I’m the director, the writer, the stage manager, and your Fairy Godmother, of course.” He leans across to you with a twinkle in his tired eye. “Any wishes you’d like me to grant, MC? The story doesn’t always have to end the same way.”

That last line catches your attention. “If you had to write it from scratch, how much of it did you change?”

He leans back with a shrug and a grimace. “Not much. I’ll work with you all to get a feel for the characters, but shows are always better with a few surprises. We’ll probably be improvising a good portion of it.”

The whole endeavor seems dubious at best, but you’ve just pictured Portia basing her Evil Stepmother off of one of Vesuvia’s more self-important courtiers, and now you’re mildly invested. “I’ll talk to whoever you want me to talk to, but the magic I practice is elemental. I can’t make any promises.”

“Of course not, you know I’d never expect anything ridiculous of you. Ah – here we are. Allow me, your majesty.” He trips out of the carriage and turns with a deep bow, offering you his arm once again to dismount. “Shall we?”

#vesuviella #arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana fic #the arcana fanfic #the arcana crackfic #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana shitpost #the arcana game #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[darsynia]

Upside Down and Backwards | Oneshot

I'm glad I worked out the angle that made this story less a rehash of Animate Objects, because I enjoyed writing it and wanted to share! I wanted to add I am deeply honored that you suggested that I write one of your OCs. I was so touched I kind of blocked that out the first time, my dear @sobeautifullyobsessed, because I didn't know what to say, and I feel like that was a disservice to you.

Summary: Stephen understands why the best place to train new devotees to the Mystic Arts is Kamar Taj when he impulsively saves the life of a young woman. It turns out he trained himself on all sorts of mindfulness-- except for the kind where he sees someone he wants and steals her from fate's grasp without thought to the consequences.

Length/Warnings: 2,544 / rated T for swearing

UPSIDE DOWN AND BACKWARDS

The problem with having access to actual magic is that in the real world, you’re not instantly granted the discernment to use it un-chaotically.

In retrospect, that was probably why the Ancient One and her predecessors trained people in Kamar Taj: to keep large mistakes at a minimum.

It’s not that Stephen thinks of himself as a novice, it’s just that he’s recently gone through a sequence of life-changing events, and that kind of thing changes a man. Enough to make him incapable of watching someone else go through a life- ending event without intervening.

The moment had been simple enough; one second he was standing in front of his favorite cafe with a to-go cup, the next he was sending you into the mirror dimension with a sweep of his hand. The old man’s sedan didn’t hit you, instead crashing into the building across the street with considerably less energy than it would have without Stephen’s interference. Everything happened fast enough that he was able to jog across the street, enter the mirror dimension to find you standing dumbstruck and confused. He’d led you out through a portal back to a nearby alleyway, and before you could say anything, Stephen had portaled back to the Sanctum.

It wasn't until he went to take his first sip of his coffee that he noticed it was gone.

A mysterious stranger saved your life. He’d also given you coffee.

It’s days later, and you’re still bemused. You’d gone home and looked up ‘Avengers’ in an incognito window, but none of the pictures had looked familiar. Statistically speaking, those particular heroes are unlikely to be the only ones who exist, but you’re understandably obsessed by how and why you were saved. 

The only other clue you have is the coffee he’d handed you, and since today is your day off, you head down to the cafe it came from, seeking answers. 

You’re in luck: the barista recognizes your description of the man (you’re not surprised. He’s distinctive and handsome, certainly memorable), remembers the drink he usually gets, and only then thinks to tell you that he’d been there ten minutes ago.

“Do you know where he came from?” you ask, and the barista gives you a sly look. “He saved my life,” you explain, feeling oddly like that should be a secret between yourself and the stranger, somehow. “I ended up with his coffee-- I just want to return the favor.” --and ask him a million questions, confront him about how in the heck he did what he did, where he came from, where he’s going, whether he’d maybe like to have coffee WITH you sometime--

This seems to earn you the young woman’s trust, and she points out which way to head. You don’t think you can catch up, but it’s a nice day, and you don’t know how else to find him.

Five minutes into your hurried pace, though, you suddenly find yourself in a garden, with no idea how you got there. You catch a glimpse of golden sparks in your peripheral vision, and alarm floods your senses. Determined not to go down without a fight, you take the lid off of your piping hot coffee, tossing the liquid at the tall figure that’s approaching you.

“Aurghhhh!” the man hollers, as you drop into the kind of fighting stance you’ve seen on tv shows. He moves his hands in a strange way, and an odd blue light flickers to life, bathing his body in its glow for a few seconds, before he straightens and frowns at you. “I suppose I deserved that.”

It’s your handsome (somehow dry and un-stained) stranger.

“What do you want?” you say, snatching your keys from your pocket and trying to arrange them between your knuckles like you’d seen in a YouTube video once. The man is silent, and you look over to see his skeptical expression, complete with expressive eyebrows. “Just because you have magical powers doesn’t mean I give in without a fight!” you grumble.

“No, no, I’m impressed,” your captor says.

He sounds anything but. You try to take in your surroundings in a way that won’t reveal your next move, but he gestures to the courtyard that borders the small garden you’re standing inside.

“I thought the garden would be soothing. A non-threatening space.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Are there mountains in the distance? You back up a little bit, adjusting your stance so there’s a column in the way of the view you refuse to believe is real. The man before you is similarly unrealistic; handsome, clearly powerful in a mysterious way, and confident. Your fatal weakness.

The man is nodding. “All right, in retrospect, kidnapping you after wordlessly saving your life using inexplicable means is the opposite of reassuring. I swear, when I planned this, it wasn’t supposed to turn out this way!”

“So you’re admitting to premeditated kidnapping? Smooth, real smooth,” you say, sidestepping to stand next to instead of in front of the plant you’d been cowering near. There’s a wooden sign on a stake planted in the ground next to it, and you intend on grabbing it in a minute. Unfortunately, you’ve telegraphed your intentions.

“Will you just--” he says in an exasperated voice-- and suddenly, you’re being lifted in midair in a haze of golden magic. “Listen to me?”

“You’re really used to getting your way, aren’t you?” you blurt out. For some reason, the man’s bizarre blunders and frustration are reassuring in ways his grandiose displays are not. Not that you’re going to tell him that. He’d probably look smug and then you’d really be in trouble.

His brows are furrowed. “Yes, actually.”

“How long has it been since you’ve needed to say please?” The man’s hands drop to his sides, consequently dropping you to your feet. You’re rather proud of the way you manage to keep your balance, in the face of all of this. To press your advantage, you say, “Well, I don’t know about you, but I was taught the golden rule. Do unto others, and all that. So: please explain what the everliving heck is going on?”

He should be angry. He should be affronted. Instead, Stephen’s captivated. You are uncowed, unsoothable, and somehow undaunted in the face of everything he’s done. Hell, he’d almost accidentally dropped you on your ass, and you’d landed on your feet.

“‘What’s going on?’ I thought I saved a damsel in distress, but it turns out I’ve abducted a wildcat instead!” he says, just to see what your reaction will be. 

“Exactly what would you expect a person to do in this situation?” You are incredulous, but even so, you seem to be looking around for a weapon of some sort.

All of a sudden, it strikes him that you might be unconsciously ramping up based on his own vehemence. Taking in a deep breath, he connects with the mindfulness he’d only touched lightly back in his surgeon days, the kind he’d perfected in his first months at Kamar Taj. You’d been tensing up like you were about to run, maybe grab hold of something nearby, but you let out a breath of your own and watch him.

“Frankly, I’d expect you to be afraid of my power,” he says quietly, sliding a casual hand into his trouser pocket. “I’m not in the whole sorcerer getup today.” Stephen leans forward conspiratorially, adding, “I feel certain if I were, you’d have been a little cowed.”

“I do recall some kind of blue contraption,” you muse.

Contraption! He almost, almost gets upset, but as Stephen circles you to slough off some of his frustration, he sees a bit of a twinkle in your eyes. You do seem attuned to him-- but that doesn’t mean you’ve ceased fighting back.

You’re just doing it in a different way.

“All right, Java Joe the All Powerful, what do you really want? I could have plans you’re disrupting with this, you know.”

Java Joe? You fight dirty, it seems. He stops in his tracks to slowly turn toward you. For a long moment, the two of you look at each other, and he watches the signs of embarrassment rise in your body language. Even so, you don’t look away despite starting to shift your weight from foot to foot, and he feels something stir deep inside.

Right as your hands start to jitter at your sides, Stephen raises a single eyebrow.

You burst out laughing.

Stephen grits his teeth and waits, but not because he’s annoyed. Oh, no. It’s worse than that. He grits his teeth to prevent a smile. You’re a handful, and he’s been alone a long time.

“Well played,” you finally say, lifting your chin. “I’d ask forgiveness for the shitty coffee nickname, but I don’t think your dignity suffered a whit there. I just have to ask: have you ever looked at yourself when you lift an eyebrow like that? It’s just the most--” 

“Go on.”

You angle your head sideways at the tone of his voice, your eyes narrowing, and Stephen’s breath catches. Is there a way you can sense his inner turmoil?

It seems that you can, because you step forward. “I was going to say it was very dramatic, maybe even villainous, but I’ve changed my mind about you. You’re no villain.”

“Am I meant to be disappointed?” Stephen can’t help but ask.

Your smile is lovely, sending another tremor toward his heart’s hastily-erected sheath of armor. “Not at all, because I think you know that heroes are still dangerous. I can rephrase, if you like.” With a regal dignity that makes him mentally dress you as some kind of Roman empress, you bow before him, pulling yourself back up to a stand as you say, “All Powerful one, tell me why I’m here?” You meet his gaze and brazenly raise a single eyebrow of your own.

In that moment, Stephen understands why he’d saved you. He wants you. He’d somehow known that in the split second your paths crossed-- but would he have done it if he’d realized that by saving your life, he might end up being responsible for it?

“Hardly ‘all powerful,’ but close,” he says smoothly, walking closer. Only when he’s inches away and you’re still standing tall and unafraid does Stephen speak again. “I wanted to know what you thought happened that day. Then I didn’t want you to lash out before I got to--” he breaks off, surprised at himself. The things he wants to say, the things he wants to do, they’re not ‘day we met’ kinds of things.

They might be, though, if your time is short.

“What is it?” you murmur, looking worried again.

Stephen smiles, feeling the sweetness along with the bitter realization that his gut is usually right. If it is, he might have a fight with fate on his hands.

“I stole you away,” he whispers. It’s been forever since he’s done this, snatched someone from death’s grasp. Usually he puts them back together better than nature had. He’s never put someone back together with magic before. “I suppose I’m afraid I don’t get to keep you.”

The words fall out before he can stop them, but you drift forward rather than back, as though the seismic sway he’s been feeling might have harmony to it.

“Before I react to that, tell me what you mean?” you say, your eyes searching his.

“I hadn’t meant to say--” Stephen starts, but shakes his head decisively. “I’ve saved lives before, with skill. I don’t know whether there are different rules for lives saved with magic.”

Your eyes widen, but with awe, not fear. “So you really mean ‘keep,’ don’t you! You think some sort of Cosmic Conservator will come and fix the glitch?” Stephen nods. “Who says you’re not the Conservator?”

With the same split-second impulsiveness that he used to save your life, Stephen reaches out and draws the back of his fingers across your cheek. The touch is electric, stunning his vocal cords to a deeper register. 

“Would a Conservator do this?” he says, right before his lips brush yours.

You’re delighted by the shocking heat of his touch. There’s an instant yearning that takes over both of you after that first testing press, as though it could be possible to attune to a person’s charge within seconds of tasting them.

Somehow, without knowing his name, you trust this man, both as a function of seeing his frustration (something almost as intimate as feeling the prickle of his beard as the kiss goes on), and knowing he’s saved you at least once. There’s something desperately moral about him, almost arrogantly so, and you tug him closer, hoping to spark more frustration and thus another thrill.

From across the courtyard, there’s the sound of voices, of many feet, and you slide your hands down from clutching his collar to press on his chest, reluctant to stop but unsure of your surroundings. The man gentles the kiss so sweetly that you’re left reeling when he does pull back.

“My name is Stephen,” he whispers with a thin, vulnerable smile. “I’m doing this all out of order, and I have to make you angry with me again, because--”

Breaking off without explanation, Stephen pulls you to his side and swings one hand in a circle in front of you, drawing up the golden electricity you’d seen more than once before. It leads to the very spot he’d kidnapped you from.

“You left me with a coffee, last time. Is the kiss more valuable, do you think?” you say, clasping your arms around yourself to bolster your stung confidence. 

Stephen’s response is another unexpected kiss, brief but heartfelt. He leads you through the sparking archway right afterwards, his expression stern but earnest as he takes your hand.

“Why do I feel like I’m already in danger of leaving my heart behind?” he whispers, shaking his head as though he’s as stunned at the possibility as you are. It feels right, though, and you want to tell him that, but Stephen stops you. “Hold still, I--” 

His hands are already moving, generating neon runic symbols in the air that hover for a few seconds before rushing towards you to disappear in splashes of magical light.

“Protection spell. I have to go, but something tells me you'll subsist on curiosity and fury until I can step away again.”

“That’s a given,” you manage to say through the spinning of your heart and head. Things like this don’t happen to ordinary people like you, but you suppose that no one is ordinary, once Stephen takes notice of them. “Stephen?” you blurt out, after he steps back, obviously about to leave. He lifts his eyebrows, and you say, “Take care of it, will you?”

“Of?”

“The part of my heart you stole away. We still have to find out whether it belongs to you or Death, right?”

Stephen’s grin is blinding. “Right. I’ll, ah…” he steps back into the halo of his portal and lifts his chin, a picture of utter confidence. “I’ll pull some strings.”

His smile is the last thing you see as the whirl of the portal closes between you.

#stephen strange imagine #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x f!reader #stephen strange fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x f!reader #doctor strange x reader #meet cute #first kiss #exasperation as a love language #mild kidnapping

[alicentsultana]

Where do I even begin ?

Oh let’s start with the fact that your writing style was INSANE .I really love the way you describe things .Dark Alicent my beloved you were done justice in this .

And Alicent having Aegon to attend lessons ma then granting him so wine was such a goof bit and I do think that was in character for both of them .

Alicent played the dutiful way after Viserys died (“Let him rest!”) was such a delicious detail .I really felt for Aegon when he takes the throne and it’s such a nightmare but if he stays delusional his family (and any possibility of recognition)is dead .I SEE what you were doing with Helaena’s warnings and I love it .

The politics in this were all so delicious .Weird word for talking about politics but reading about the Black box and Corlys as hand and Lord Arryn and Rhaenyra’s pregnancy was so engaging .

Alicent losing three kids was a change that struck me ,and I find it interesting because a lot of women lost children in medieval times and now we don’t even know if they actually lost them or even had them so it was interesting in the historical sense .And really sad because the scene where she is caressing her empty belly really did something to me .I stared at the phone for like ten minutes .

Alicole in this was INSANE ,like wdym she literally said she wanted to have his babies ? What do you mean she’s PLANNING to make him hers ? Not that it makes me unhappy actually I was kicking my feet the entire time .

Alicent’s dream was such a haunting and good bit .Aemond being his cunty self my beloved .And you mentioning Daeron with Criston …the way you wiew Daeron is so heartwarming he is such a KID .

And ofc her last words to Viserys were so cunty and so hunting .The way she took his life and the only possibility to ease his guilt after what he did to Aemma was probably the best bit of the entire chapter .”See you in Hell” GODD

I’m so ready for the second chapter and I really thank you for this fic already because it made my day better .

YOU GO ALICENTSULTANA

Omg, thank you so much!

Lessons in exchange for wine is something that totally would happen, this is soft manipulation/motivation.

Alicent must be a cancer, I can feel it, it's in my blood. I have wondered for a long time what is a major manipulation feature one can express, and I totally would play dumb and heartbroken just to see the outcome and cover my actions, I gave her this to make her truly unhinged.

Aegon is doing it for his children and his siblings, this is the sole reason, wine also. I think he used Helaena's vision to justify his actions and feel less guilty about it, but don't worry, there will be no remorse coming.

I'm not a politics girl, like I don't understand anything about it, so in my head I always justify everything as "political undisclosed reasons", but then, Alicent is a politician, her father and life taught her the hard way, so she had, as queen mediator, to act. Including taking risks with helping Corlys raise to position - one snake + one snake = naja and coral. She must be suttle, must analyze everything, every step, no faux pas.

Corlys is playing for the winning team when is convenient, though don't ask me what he will tell his wife.

I also pondered who would be a major Lord who could prove himself against Rhaenyra, and who better than the brother of her mother. Throughout s1 she stroked me as being relapse and naive about the power of court women, while Alicent entertained them, Rhaenyra was mostly doing faces and throwing some tantrums. Who's to say she wouldn't offend, unknowingly, a member of her own extended family? The Arryns are a super important house, and are her relatives, losing them is losing the vale.

Let's not mention Viserys health deteriorating and her doing what? Thousands years of honeymoon? Alicent was pregnant and holding a child while the world was falling apart and pretty girl was doing what? This will be brought up again in the future. Viserys would 100% overlook and think nothing of it (as always).

I have an hc that she had at least three more pregnancies, though she would have lost them by natural causes, I decided to make her get rid of them herself, and lamenting it because obviously she wouldn't want to do it, but she couldn't bring herself to birth more children to an ungrateful crown. I believe after Aemond, she would often tell Criston like "oh, i wish they were yours" both because she lost faith in Viserys, but also because Criston was the dadTM and she's in love with him.

They are very much aware of their feelings, but my intention was to do it much more mature and heavy, more wild and on edge, they are certainly more touchy, more open, not that many notice or see it happening beyond some of her servants and Westerling (he have a keen eye).

But again, they would never be caught red handed (god I really want to post the second chapter, people will scream).

Even if he's already hers, Alicent doesn't content herself with halves, she wants the whole meal, the whole experience.

Daeron will always be a baby, he's not allowed to grow up, he stays in mini size, pocket size. Though she would want it, Alicent won't get pregnant again, she doesn't have the energy to do so, and she is Dowager Queen, she has an image to keep.

She hates Viserys, like, actively, fervently. Alicent wanted to say those words when he was alive but she couldn't risk him not dying.

I'm so glad this made your day better, this is always the major intent! Chapter 2 will come soon, I'll try to post it as soon as possible.

Thank you so much for reading and telling me what you thought of it!

#ask #insights #author's idea #pro team green

[bi-bard]

Let’s Keep It Between Us, If That’s What You Want to Do - Kelly Severide Imagine (Chicago Fire)

Title: Let’s Keep It Between Us, If That’s What You Want to Do

Pairing: Kelly Severide X Reader

Based On: I Cry 2

Word Count: 799 words

Warning(s): mentions of sex

Summary: The nature of a rebound after Severide and (Y/n) find themselves at the tail ends of dumpster fires of relationships.

Author's Note: My mom and I got into an entire debate about whether or not some of Severide's actions made him less attractive (I said they did, just so you know). It went on for like ten minutes. We agreed to disagree.

YUNGBLUD WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

-------------------------

Sometimes I wondered if what Kelly and I were doing was stupid.

In the moment, I never did. When he showed up on my doorstep and kissed me, it was like my mind completely shut off. Instinctual, almost primal. I would focus on nothing but him. Granted, that was the point of our arrangement.

When I woke up, I would find myself questioning the point. If it was healthy. If it was going to end suddenly. If we were ever going to become something more than whatever we were.

And then, I'd roll over.

Kelly would still be asleep next to me. The sun from the window over my bed was just washing over him. It almost made him look angelic. He would seem so... soft. Like we had just laid next to each all night. It was all so different from the night before.

I would remember that I didn't care. Not truly.

Having him here, having him in any way that I could was more important than anything else. If that was reserved for the moments where he was shoving me against the wall or pushing me into my room, then I was okay with that.

I could still picture the first night that we spent together.

We had gone to Molly's with everyone else. Kelly and I had found ourselves tucked away in the corner. We had both been through recent break-ups and were rambling about our shared experiences. Ranting about pet peeves or how the relationship ended or how it felt like our exes were acting so soon after the breakup.

I had finished rambling before I said that I was swearing off dating for a while.

That seemed to flip some kind of switch in Kelly's mind.

"Swearing off dating," he repeated, leaning forward on the table a bit. "Sounds a bit lonely."

"I've got the firehouse; got you guys," I chuckled, trying to pretend like I hadn't noticed his movement.

"Well, that's only going to help so much, isn't it," he asked. One of his hands landed on my thigh, squeezing it a bit.

I felt my grin falter for a moment. Not because I didn't like the idea of this, just because I could feel my mind starting to get overwhelmed at the idea. Like waves slowly getting bigger and hitting me.

"More than one kind of lonely."

I saw the smirk tugging at his lips. My eyes jumped from his eyes to his lips a few more times before I mimicked his movement, leaning closer to him. He squeezed my thigh again.

"Y'know, I am so tired from our last shift," I muttered, very clearly lying. "Mind giving me a lift home?"

"Well, I'm nothing if not a gentleman," he replied before going to stand up. "Let me cover the tab and we'll head out."

I nodded.

The rest of the night felt like a blur. Like it was stuck in fast-forward. A flash of images that were just... a lot.

The most vivid memory I have of that time was the next morning. I had woken up to Kelly shifting on the bed. He was pulling on his shirt when I stretched and groaned. He turned to face me, a grin forming when he looked at me.

"Hope I helped with a bit of that loneliness," he said.

I chuckled, pulling myself into a sitting position. "Yeah, definitely helped."

Kelly stretched over, kissing my lips again. I hummed into the kiss, trying to move closer to him.

He leaned back. "Let's... Let's keep this between us. Alright?"

I nodded. "As long as this little... meeting isn't a one-time thing."

"Don't think I could handle that," he muttered, kissing me again.

It was a nice memory. A nice memory that kickstarted something that was not truly healthy.

We were each other's distractions. We didn't have to focus on anything else when we were with each other. No explanations, no problems, no one else to talk to. It was just the two of us being caught up in each other.

I was lost in thought when Kelly shifted next to me. He blinked a few times before looking at me properly.

"Good morning," he muttered.

"Morning," I grinned at him.

"Hope you haven't been up for too long."

"Not at all."

He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I slowly kissed him back, letting my mind go foggy as I did. He shifted until he was holding his body over me, moaning into the kiss. I chuckled, reaching up to touch his sides.

Any questions I had earlier were gone now.

I didn't care about what could happen next or when all of this could suddenly end.

Because I had him for now.

And that's all that mattered to me.

-------------------------

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What I Write For

Some Original Characters

#kelly severide imagine #kelly severide x reader #kelly severide fanfiction #fanfiction #imagine #x reader #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire x reader #one chicago x reader #one chicago fanfiction #one chicago imagine

[aheckinmess]

Fire in the Hole [Bakugo] (Fluff)

(One-shot 2/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Bakugo x OC, Katsuki Bakugo, Dynamight, Pro-Hero Bakugo, Pro-Hero OC, Feisty OC, Fluff, Fluff with maybe a little angst, one explosion boy.

Word Count: 1,202 words

Summary: Everyone knows that Dynamight can be a hot-head. But Tigress notices that his aggression is doubled when directed at her, and she's in for a wild surprise when she finds out why.

Author's Note: This one-shot isn't a part of a series, so if you're ever looking to see what character I'm writing for, I'll give a character name and whether it's angst, fluff, or smut in the title. Enjoy!

Ichijiku (Tigress)

It’s a little off-putting to say the least when Dynamight starts acting weird around me. Every time we team up against villains, he seems to get more feral and aggressive towards me. Granted, he’s always been feral and aggressive…but he really likes laying into me.

Today he pushes a little too far. I step into his agency to visit a friend and he roars his displeasure.

“WHY THE HELL IS THIS DAMN CAT HERE AGAIN?!” He bellows at me. “YOU’VE GOT SOME NERVE–”

My fist swings around to meet his face and he blocks it with surprisingly quick reflexes. I use the momentum to slam my foot up into his stomach as I scream at top volume, pumping fear into him.

I’m not surprised when he lands a hit into my side, but I remain on my feet with bared teeth.

“Stop treating me like a damn disease, Dynamight!” I hiss. “I came here to visit a friend, not listen to you complain!”

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” He grits his teeth with a glare at me.

I try not to admit to myself that he makes me feel warm inside. That despite his abrasive exterior, I appreciate his authenticity and the subtle ways he takes care of others. Even though he hides it.

“Ichan! You made it!” Sayuri chirps from behind. Her face instantly turns into a scowl as she wraps an arm around me and guides me away. “Leave my bestie alone, Dynamight. We’ll be back.”

“You’d better. I don’t pay you to goof off, Phobos.” He growls.

“We’ll be fifteen minutes, tops, pretty boy.” I huff over my shoulder.

“You better make that ten, extra!”

“I’ll make it twenty if you piss me off!”

. . . . .

Lunch with Sayuri has become habit at this point. It’s friend time carved into the week in order to help me maintain my mental sanity. I recline at the table as we wait for our waitress.

“So, how are you and Kiri doing these days? I miss hearing about my besties!” I giggle, smiling at the waitress as she comes by to take our drinks and orders.

“He’s the best! And I’m sorry we haven’t been keeping in touch much. You know with the move we’ve been pretty stressed. And there’s been a tick in crime this fall season.” She surveys the area as she says it before grinning. “But aside from that, things have been well. It still seems crazy that we’ve already been married for six months.”

“It feels unreal.” I agree, before the waitress brings our drinks.

I get quiet as I sip my tea and look at Dynamight’s bright sign for his agency next door. Why is he so mean to me anyway? Little brat is asking for a visit from my claws. I don’t realize my facial expressions show my thoughts so loudly until Sayuri speaks up.

“Sorry about Dynamight. He’s a bitch.” She chuckles, sipping her water. “I hope it didn’t bother you too much. I know sometimes loud noises are hard for you.”

“Is he always like that?” I ask, wondering if maybe I’ve been exaggerating how he behaves around me. I’ve always heard he’s a hothead, so maybe I’ve just been walking in at the peak of his tantrums?

“To an extent,” Sayuri begins, before looking thoughtful and adding. “He always seems more aggressive towards you now that I think about it. Did you do something to piss him off?”

“I knew it!” I set my chair all the way down just as the waitress comes by and drops off our sushi. I pull out my chopsticks as I sigh. “I don’t know what I did to him. All I know is that every time I enter the room, he targets me. I swear it’s like he’s got a tracker on me.”

“Yeah…I’m sorry. I know you like him.” She shakes her head and pops some sushi in her mouth.

“It’s nothing serious.” I shrug, even though it hurts more than I bargain for.

While we both pause to savor the flavor, I start turning over memories of fighting with Dynamight. Even since the first time we worked together, it feels like he’s only ever had it out for me. In fact, I barely interacted with him that first time. What the hell is his problem?

We make it back to Dynamight’s agency exactly fifteen minutes after we left thanks to quick service at the sushi shop. When we walk in, Dynamight’s busy with a group of rookie sidekicks.

“You idiots! You’ve got to try harder. If you keep making little mistakes like that, they’ll pile up and it could mean someone’s life instead of a faulty budget. Go fix it!” He hisses, but it lacks the venom he uses with me.

“See?” Sayuri whispers. “I don’t get it. The little shit.”

When the rookies move away, he notices us and his face twists in anger.

“There you are! I told you you had ten minutes!” He snaps.

“And I told you that we’d be back in fifteen.” I stand firm, glaring at him.

“Shove off, Dynamight.” Sayuri rolls her eyes and storms past him, looking professional and ready to work. I don’t miss that she stops just outside her office to watch us, though. When we don’t go for each others’ throats, she steps inside.

“I have a question for you, Dynamight.” I say with piercing eyes. “What did I ever do to piss you off?”

“Tch. You’re wasting my time. I’ve got an agency to run.” He turns and stomps off.

I head towards him for a moment, before I clench my fists and start walking back downstairs to leave. Not worth the energy. Just a stupid crush. I’m rounding the corner of the stairwell when I’m shoved into a dark, empty room.

“Goddamn it…how do you do it?” Dynamight’s voice growls in the darkness. When I squirm, he grips my wrists and turns on the light. His red eyes bore into mine, pupils huge. “What made you think you’d pissed me off?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you’re meaner to me than everyone else.” I growl, despite the growing attraction buzzing in my chest. I shield it with anger. “It doesn’t matter when I’m here, you always single me out!”

My pulse picks up speed as I struggle to maintain eye contact, but he’s a lot stronger than me. At least in this moment. He grips my chin with his hand and gets closer to my face. My eyes flicker to his lips for half a second.

“Don’t you understand anything?” His calloused thumb rubs my cheek, making me meet his eyes again. “I’m only more pissy with you because you make me feel like doing this.”

His lips capture mine and I could swear his quirk extends to my heart as an explosive force draws my arms around his neck. I tangle my fingers in his hair before pulling my other hand down to rest at his chest until we both pull back, our expressions much softer and uncertain.

“You know…you could have just told me that instead of making me think you hated me.” I swallow thickly.

“Whatever.” His cheeks tinge the slightest shade pink. “I get off at 7. You like sushi, yeah?”

“I do.” I smirk.

“Then your ass better be here by 7:05.” His lips ghost my ear before he leaves.

#mha fanfiction #mha one shots #bnha #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo #dynamight #kacchan #bakugo x oc #katsuki x oc #fluff #okay maybe fluff with a little angst #after all it's our favorite explosion boy #feisty oc #original characters #ichijiku

[multifandominfj]

A New Beginning: A Supergirl 6x20 Re-Write

Chapter Ten: Down The List

To say she was nervous asking Cat Grant for her blessing to marry Kara was a severe understatement. Lena knew Cat had an icy cold stare, a sharp wit, and was fast on her feet. She also knew that Cat was also very protective of Kara in her own way. Asking the right way, and leading into said question would be tricky.

Pulling into an empty parking space, and taking the familiar route up to the bullpen, Lena tried to remain as cool as possible.

That all went out the window when she saw Kara in charge, directing the other reporters to their assignments, with Nia at her side. Seeing Kara fully comfortable, happy with her job and thriving was beyond attractive to her.

“So everyone has their…” The minute Kara’s eyes locked with Lena’s, her heart skipped a beat. “That will be all, everyone.” She super speeds over, nearly knocking Lena off her feet.

“Hi to you too.” Lena laughs heartily before placing a delicate smooch on her girl’s cheek.

“What are you doing here?” Kara was still clueless about everything; just as Lena hoped.

“Do you know if?”

And right on cue… “Miss Luthor.”

“She says she doesn’t have any powers; I don’t believe her. Also, holler if you need help.” Kara returns Lena’s peck on the cheek as she gets back to work.

Following right behind, Cat shuts her office door behind them and pulls the blinds. “I know why you’re here.”

“Do you?” Lena sits in one of the chairs present, raising that ever famous eyebrow of hers.

“You’re here to ask for my blessing to marry Kiera.” Cat hands Lena a class of whiskey.

“Seriously, how do you do that?” Lena was left aghast, not daring to refuse the free drink.

“She talks about you any chance she gets, and your voice and body language were about as easy to read as a teen drama on the CW.” Cat nonchalantly takes a sip of her drink. “Of course you have my blessing, Miss Luthor. That photo she has of the two of you on her desk, I know how much you mean to her; I will catch her staring a moment too long before she gets back to work. You have made her the happiest she’s been in quite a long time. When I interviewed her, you came up a lot; the mushy feeling was a bit much for my taste, but it made Kiera happy. I just want you to promise me a few things.”

“Anything.” Lena sets her glass down nervously.

“Entertain any crazy idea she has, chances are it has merit and value behind it. Make her feel like she’s the best journalist in the world, even when she has a couple of misses. Most importantly, whenever she begins to get that sad puppy look on her face, and stops talking…non verbal communication will help heal whatever she’s feeling when she says, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I can do that.” Lena stands to exhale, and shake her hand. “Thank you, Miss Grant. And I will send you the details of the party as soon as it’s all ironed out.”

“Of course. Best of luck, Miss Luthor.” Cat shuts the door behind her.

And while Kara was nowhere to be seen, Lena slips out of sight. Next stop: Her other future Mother-In-Law, Eliza Danvers.

Her drive to Midvale definitely felt longer than it actually was. The amount of lead-ins, questions and pleadings she had going through her head was even a lot for her. Lena had never been this much of a perfectionist, but that’s what Kara did to her: she made her crazy and self conscious, but in the best way possible.

Recognizing the house from photos Kara has shown her, she pulled right up to the driveway. Scanning her surroundings, she looked for her future mother in law. “Doctor Danvers?” Lena called out.

“In the backyard, Lena.” Eliza hollered from far away.

Following the echoed tone of the voice, Lena would come to find Eliza doing…

“Target practice? Picking up a new hobby, Doctor Danvers?” She chuckled, watching.

“It’s never too late to pick up a new hobby.” Eliza smirked, putting down her bow and arrows. “And please, it’s Eliza. We’ve known each other long enough, Lena. By the way, to what do I owe this surprise?” She greets Lena with a warm, motherly embrace.

“I actually came up here because I…” She starts to reach for the ring box in her jacket. “Wanted to ask your permission about something, and hopefully your blessing.”

Being the incredibly smart woman she was, Eliza immediately figured it out. “Oh, Lena. This is stunning. I gotta say, I was hoping for this moment. The entire time Kara sang at Alex’s wedding…it’s like you were the only person there for her. It was like she was singing to you. And I think I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come through for her…you not only have my permission, but my blessing as well.” With a joyous grin, she cups the ring back into Lena’s hand, and gives her another hug.

“So I don’t have to plead my case? Provide reasons?” Lena was surprised at how easy it was.

“I mean unless it would make you feel better… “ Eliza heartily chuckled.

“No, not at all.” Lena’s tensions were nowhere to be seen. “Thank you, Eliza. It means a lot. As soon as I finish asking the rest of the people closest to Kara, I will start sending out the party details.”

“Looking forward to it.” Eliza bids her goodbye as she watches her future daughter-in-law back out of the driveway.

“Up next, Barry and Iris. This is going to be interesting…” Reason being, the Central City Citizen was one of the many publications there to cover her foundation's opening, and the first big fundraiser a month later. Even then, she knew convincing Iris would be easier than convincing Barry, who had known Kara for longer. But considering Kara attended their wedding, and was the one who sang for them…this would be quite the task.

Driving up to the main CCC building, she takes a few deep breaths before she enters. With every step she climbed, she could feel her heartbeat speed up. Opening the doors, she strode up to the information desk. “Hi, is Mrs. West-Allen in?”

“She’s currently in a meeting? I can call and leave her a message. Who may I ask who’s requesting—…”

“Lena Luthor.”

“Lena!” As if appearing out of thin air, Irish was at the door of the stairs. “Right this way. This is quite the surprise. What brings you out to Central City? How’s Kara?”

“Kara is great, more than great actually. I’m sure you saw the interview Cat did.” She couldn’t help but have her heart swell any time she mentioned it. That was her girlfriend.

“We did.” Iris invites Lena to sit in her relaxed area of her office “Everyone at STAR Labs saw it, and Barry is now bragging that Supergirl is his best friend.”

And like a fresh gust of wind. “Someone ordered Lunch?” Barry, with his signature grin, holds up two big bags of Big Belly Burger. “Lena, hey. What brings you by?”

“Barry, good you’re here. Now I can tell both of you.” Like she did with Eliza before, she takes out the small box and shows them the ring she had designed for Kara.

“Is that? Are you?” Barry was immediately speechless.

“It is, and I am.” Lena blushes as she pockets the ring. “I wanted to stop by to see if…if could bet your blessing. You two were her friends before I ever was, and having just met at Alex and Kelly’s wedding, I felt the need to do this. But, with Kara bringing up singing at your guys’ wedding, and all of the crazy missions she’s done with you both, I feel like I know you to some degree. I know how much she means to you both, and…”

“Lena.” Iris takes both of Lena’s hands in hers. “You wholeheartedly have our blessing. We saw how you two were together at Alex’s wedding. To use my favorite analogy, you’re her lightning rod. You two are drawn together, and whenever you two are together, you’re unstoppable.”

“And to add to that, Kara has always told me she wants someone who gets every part of her life. That’s you, Lena. I couldn’t be happier for you both.” Barry congratulates.

“Thanks, you guys.” Lena brings them both into a hug. “I will send you the party details as soon as I check off everyone on my list.”s

“We’re looking forward to it. And say hi to the others for us.” Iris waves her friend off.

“I will.” Lena bids adieu with a warm grin as she heads off to see Sara and Ava. Kara had told her about the both of them so she knew what she was getting into: Warmly welcomed by them, and their daughter, Laurel, a little small talk followed by the reveal of the ring, nervous on how to present her news, and a resounding yes for all three of their blessings.

She had everyone in the loop. Time to start planning a party.

Hope you enjoyed the very cute, and very adorable Chapter Ten of Lena asking those closest to Kara! I had fun writing it. 🙏🏻

#supergirl #supergirl cw #supercorp #supercorp endgame #katie mcgrath #lena luthor #kara danvers #melissa benoist #fanfiction #fanfic #my otp #they own my heart #i miss them #future writers in the writers room #author in the making #queer writers #all of the fluff and cuteness before the angst

[depravity-n-savagery]

Tears for the Brave

🔹️Pairings: Eddie Munson x (fem)Reader

🔹️Summary: As someone who cries easily, you deal with a lot of bullying and don't often fight back. Until you see the school 'Freak' being ganged up on.

🔹️CW: Angst, Bullying, Violence, Lots of crying, A bit of fluff in the end, Strangers to Friends/Possible Lovers

🛑 18+ MINORS DNI 🛑

🔹️Word Count: 2k

🔹️A/N: Realized I haven't really written anything deep/emotional for/with Eddie and wanted to fix that. ♡ Granted, the upcoming series will also have a lot of that. So I guess this is just a quick start lolz.

Sensitive little bitch.

It wasn't the first time you've heard it, or a different variation of it, but the words still hurt all the same. It hurt because it was true. Blame it on your upbringing, or Astrology, or whatever makes it easier to cope with. Ever since childhood you've heard the same thing. Different faces, different houses, different schools. Yet somehow, always the same result. 

It all started on the playground, after getting dirt kicked in your face for the first time in kindergarten. "Crybaby." The bratty little asshole Margaret spat at you. She was shorter than you, but her shadow loomed over you from your curled up position on the ground. Little hands covering your face in an attempt to hide your tears. Tears that came whether you wanted them to or not. Spilling out of your eyes no matter how much you blinked and tried to will them away. You could never control them. It was a curse that stayed with you all these years. 

Now, even in your late teens, just stepping through the front door of adulthood - you couldn't stop crying. Assholes loved that. It's like they could smell it on you. Bringing you to tears was more important than their morning coffee sometimes. Or whatever bubbly drinks the cheerleaders and basketball guys consumed. It could be poison for all you cared. Anything to make them stop. 

The girls bathroom was cold, and dead silent. A row of vacant stalls and leaky faucets. Not a peep, even in the empty halls outside the door. Turning the knob on the sink, and the rushing water that followed, all seemed like it was on high volume. It made your heart race. Maybe the noise would bring them back to finish the job. The three cheerleaders that just left only ten minutes ago, after cornering you and emptying out the contents of your bookbag. Notebook pages and writing supplies still littered the filthy bathroom floor. 

One of the cheerleaders was upset with you for not letting her copy your work during the test last week. She apparently failed, and now won't be able to cheer at tomorrow's game. 'Boo-fucking-hoo, maybe do the actual work sometime' or 'Tough shit' was what you wanted to say. Instead, you just stood there and stared at your shoes until the screaming tirade of insults and accusations was over. When that didn't satisfy her rage, well, she slapped you. Cackling when the contact immediately brought tears to your eyes. "What a sensitive little bitch." Her friends joined her, like your humiliation was comedy gold. Then snatched your bookbag and emptied it to keep the tears flowing. A fountain of youth that kept their wicked thirst satisfied. 

The cold water you splashed on your cheek did little to ease the red mark that was forming. Great. Now everyone will know… There wasn't any way to hide it. No makeup in your bag (as if you ever wore it enough to carry some). Eyes bloodshot, puffy and just plain tired. Most you could do was wear your sunglasses and pray no teachers gave you shit about it. 

After gathering whatever papers didn't get ruined, you tip-toed out into the hall. You were more than late for gym, but that didn't bother you much. Every gym period was spent sitting on the bleachers and reading anyway. If it weren't for you still wanting to keep your attendance record, you would've just skipped. You should've just skipped. Because the decision not to, is how you ended up seeing something you were never meant to see. 

"What did I tell you, Freak? I said the next time I see you talking to her, I'm gonna make you pay for it. You just don't listen." 

Jason, the school's golden boy, wasn't as squeaky clean as he went out of his way to appear. Hence why he kept the violence here, in an empty corner of the school. Away from all prying eyes, except yours and the two basketball team members currently holding up his target. How cowardly. You'd only hit a guy when you have people holding him still for you? 

The sounds of impact, bone colliding with flesh, twisted your stomach as you peeked around the corner that kept you hidden from sight. You caught a glimpse of brown hair, so long it covered the guy's face completely, until he shook it off the side. Eddie? The infamous repeat-senior was a stranger to you, but you've seen him before. Marveled at the brave way he taunted the bullies instead of falling prey to their nasty words and rumors. He was coughing, trying not to retch up his lunch after being punched in the gut. Eyes narrowed, full of fire and refusing to back down. It was enviable. You longed for that kind of strength. Maybe if you had it, you would do something to help. 

"I already told you." Eddie spoke between deep breaths, gruff and sharp. "We barely spoke. She just asked me for help with something." 

Jason's jaw was tightly clenched, just like his fists. Ready to strike again, rather than believe that for once he wasn't the center of Chrissy's every need. "Bullshit! No, if she needed anything, she would ask ME. Not go to a freak like you!" He cocked back, aiming to land his next punch right into Eddie's face. Probably into that pretty, loud mouth of his. 

"STOP!" 

It happened before you could even realize you'd done it. Stepping out from behind the corner to stand there, fully exposed. What the fuck am I doing? WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING?! No no no… This wasn't you. You?! The fucking coward? It was too late to call it back. You can't snatch the word back and swallow it. Or slink back into the shadows. The bewildered look Eddie gave you wouldn't allow it. Because he looked at you, in this moment, like nobody else ever has. Like a saving grace. The angel of mercy, coming to pluck him out of hell's flames. 

"Move along and mind your business." One of his teammates said, but you ignored him completely. Taking a step forward even though every muscle in your body screamed 'RUN'. 

"I- I know the coach wouldn't appreciate his star player having to sit out the big game tomorrow, a- after getting suspended." 

It wasn't stern, or very threatening, but it was something. If nothing else it bought time for someone else to come along and witness this. The two stooges holding Eddie up looked to Jason with a newfound concern. "Shit. What if this bitch rats on us? We're all screwed, man. My dad would kill me if I get another suspension." 

The blonde ringleader shook his head, turning his full attention on you now. "She wouldn't do that. Right?" He put on his charming tone, getting the opposite effect from you. Especially knowing how fake it was. "Maybe I can get those cheerleaders to lay off. You'd like that, wouldn't you? After all, Chrissy seems to like you… for some…unknown reason. Wouldn't be hard to convince the others to play nice too." 

The underhanded insult didn't miss you, and turned your shocked expression into a deep frown. "I don't care about that.." It was a lie. You'd give almost anything to be free of the torment, but this wasn't one of them. It wasn't about you right now. It was about him. The boy still being held a foot or so off the floor. "The gym is right there." You nodded your head to the right, in the direction of the large double doors just a short walk down the hall. "I could go tell the coach right now, or- or you could let him go." 

The seconds felt like hours, ticking by as Jason glared into your eyes. Eyes that were doing what they always did during conflict. Tears welled up in the corners of your vision, slightly blurring your sight. You did not move. You didn't move to hide them, or fold into yourself. You just glared back at him as the first few tears ran down your cheeks. 

"A crybaby and a snitch too. Go figure." He signaled for his teammates to drop Eddie, and they obeyed. Quite literally dropping him onto the floor, where he was free to cross his arms over his sore midsection. Jason got him good, and there had to be some possible internal bruising awaiting the poor guy when he was well enough to stand. "Next time, mind your own business." 

Next time? How often did they do this to him? For the longest you thought it was only harsh words and the occasional petty bullying. Knocking his tray out of his hands, or tripping him as he walked by. This was something else altogether. This was extreme, un-checked jealousy. No wonder Chrissy sought friendship in people that were nothing like him and his friends. 

Once the jocks were gone, disappearing into the gym to catch the last half of the class, you made your way towards Eddie. The brave and eccentric man you were used to admiring from afar, now up close and broken. Allowing himself to quietly shed the tears he didn't let fall when Jason was present. "Eddie? Do you… want me to take you to the nurse?" It felt stupid of you to ask, but you didn't know what else to say. The nurse would ask questions, and I can't answer them without explaining what happened. 

Eddie sat upright, still wincing from the pain but masked it with a weak smile. "Don't worry your pretty little head about me. I'll just skip and go home. Nothin' left to do here anyway." Even though you knew the smile wasn't genuine, it still gave you butterflies. Thank goodness you were able to stop Jason from possibly marring the beauty of it with a busted lip. 

"I could- Maybe, if you don't mind… go with you? Just to make sure you get there okay. You look really hurt." Truth be told, you didn't want to stay there either. The whole day needed a reset, and maybe tomorrow things would return to their regularly scheduled string of events. So why not venture further off track for the time being? 

"You've never skipped a day in your life. I can tell." The chuckle that followed seemed painful, but he couldn't hold it in. Joy always found a way back to him in the worst ways. "I'm already being a bad influence." 

"No reason to stop now then. The deed is done." You extended your hand, helping Eddie up to his feet. The feeling of his rings against your fingers imprinting themselves into your memory. "I wouldn't wanna run into them again anyway." A pinch of truth, just to reassure him that your decision to leave had to do with more than just him. Even if it brought him only a smidge of comfort, it was worth saying. 

The two of you walked, or shuffled, with his arm over your shoulder for support. Saving the questions for a later time. Like, what happens now? It concerned Eddie that he unintentionally might have gotten you swept up in his feud with Jason. Piled on top of whatever you had going on with the cheerleaders. Your rep would be tainted by association. Same with everyone that he befriended. But none of his friends have done what you did for him today. 

Stood up to Jason with his backup behind him. Even after witnessing the violence he was capable of. Turned down an offer that he would've probably leaped at (having the bullies off his back), to save someone you barely even know. Most of all, what he envied the most, was your ability to cry openly. To bare your emotions in front of them, and stand your ground regardless. It didn't seem weak or like giving up. It was resilient. It was goddamn brave, and it made him see you in a way he never did before. 

You had a lot you wanted to learn from the 'Freak' of Hawkins High. Now the Freak wanted to learn everything he could about the school Crybaby. 

♡

🔹️A/N: As someone who cries a lot, this felt kinda special. (would you guess I'm a pisces? Lmao) ♡ Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated ~

Masterlist, Ao3 ☆

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff