i currently have many written requests in my drafts ive just been super busy recently! i’m going to try to proof read/ edit them and hopefully publish them gradually soon??
୨୧ wally clark x cheerleader!reader. in which you witness your boyfriends last game.
notes/warnings. language, based in the 80s, death, grief, angst angst and angst !!!! tiny bit of fluff if u squint <3
You were a cheerleader. Wally Clark was the quarterback of the football team. You were the ideal couple — one that everyone either wanted to be or be with. People loved and envied you.
Despite the expectations and standards set for you both, you had known each other for years. First as friends then as more.
Wally used to tug on your braids in class just to get your attention or to ask for a pencil. He would share his Haribo gummy bears and give you a ride home after school.
You didn’t have the best home life and whenever you needed him— his presence, his touch— he was always there. You would call him and he’d answer after the second ring.
The moment he heard your shaking breaths, before you could utter words, he was already saying, “I’m on my way.”
You were there for him too.
Especially after his football games or practices. When he didn’t make the touchdown or when he wasn’t training hard enough to his parents standards. You would sit in his car with him and listen to him talk or rant for hours. Even when you were the only ones left in the parking lot.
You would hold his hand and tell him how proud of you were of him. Remind him how amazing he played and of the touchdowns he did make.
On date nights, he always took you to a popular diner and grabbed milkshakes with a side of fries. It was where you first met and it was special to the both of you.
He always kissed you good night. Whether in the car or on your front doorstep.
Wally was the ideal boyfriend. Someone you adored and. . . loved. Even though you haven’t gotten around to telling him that yet. You were scared— you never felt this way for someone before.
Sure, you had boyfriends but never been in love like this before. It wasn’t like Wally.
That realization made you nervous. Scared if he wouldn’t feel the same, if you would scare him off and he’d leave you. You knew it was untrue but your mind spiraled, keeping you from spilling your true feelings.
Tonight was a home football game. You would get to cheer on the sidelines and watch your boyfriend play and most likely, like he did at all games, win.
Though tonight was different. During one of his practices, he sprained his knee and you knew he was still recovering. Despite that, the coach still put him in the game.
You remembered how Wally reassured you, telling you that he can do it.
You stood on the sidelines with your teammates, cheering and raising your pom pom’s to the sky, shouting old rally songs that were outdated at this point but no one bothered making new ones.
Your eyes drifted over to the field to see Wally limping off and sitting down on the bench, slipping off his helmet to breathe. You looked away and once the cheer was finished, you made your way over to your boyfriend.
Walking up behind him, your hand slid to his shoulder, not wanting to scare him. When he looked up, his eyes softened at the sight of you. “Hey, you alright?” You spoke, your eyes sparing over him as if searching for discomfort or injuries.
Wally nodded but he seemed disconnected. Like his mind wasn’t really there with him— it was still on the field, in the game.
“How’s your knee?” You asked then. You watched as he inhaled, his gaze meeting yours again as you sat down beside him on the bench.
“Good, good.” He breathed out, nodding. You could tell he was trying to believe it himself.
You, though, weren’t convinced. But before you could say anything else, your coach called out to you, demanding you to come back to the team. You turn back to Wally and flash a soft smile, “You’ve got this. I’m proud of you win or lose.” You whispered, pressing a quick peck to his cheek.
Wally couldn’t prevent the smile that rose to his lips. He watched as you sat up and ran back over to your team.
Once you left, his mother took your place, sparing some few words to her son.
A few minutes later, the whistle blew, and when you saw Wally run back onto the field, you cheered the loudest. “Yes, Wally! Let’s go!”
When Wally ran for the touchdown, the football gripped in his hands as he ran across the field, dodging the harsh players. You and the girls cheered, clashing your pom poms in the air.
A bright smile shined on your face.
Then, out of nowhere, an opposing player landed into him, sending Wally flying. The crowd went “Oof!” In sync at the defense hit.
Your heart stopped like it always had whenever Wally took a rough hit. Wally laid on his back and he hadn’t made any movements to get up yet. The hit must’ve been really hard, you thought.
Your heart was moving again, beating rapidly against your chest as your eyes never tore away from him.
Get up. Please get up.
“Ouch! That does not look good for Wally Clark!” The announcer said over the loudspeaker.
His coach walked across the field, reaching Wally and kneeling down beside his body. A moment later, the coach urgently called out for the medics.
At the urgency in his voice— the once rough and strict man sounding worried is what had you dropping your pom’s to run across the field. To him.
One of your friends on the team called out for you but you were already gone.
“Wally! Wally!” You shouted out for him as you came closer to his laid out body. You thought he was hurt— worsening his knee and that he would have to wear a cast and you would have to help him walk around for the next few weeks.
What you saw was worse.
Even when his coach stood up, grabbing onto your arms to pull you back. He was too slow— you had already seen.
The way he didn’t blink. Or how his chest never rose or fell— it was still.
You knew.
Wally was gone.
It was as if you could see that his soul was gone. It had left him and wandered the Earth or wherever they go after death.
You let out a shrieking scream that silenced the whole outside stadium and its crowd. “No! Wally!” Everyone had known now. They knew from the sound of your cries, the way you crumbled in the coach’s arms.
You fell to your knees, hiding your face as you cried, your body wracked with guilt and grief.
You never left his side. Even as the medics finally came, even as the crowd was escorted out and sent home and when the sirens of the ambulance were heard.
You stayed there.
In the middle of the field, watching as the EMTs pulled your boyfriend onto a stretcher and inside a black bag.
Even as they drove off, you were there. The last place that felt your boyfriend’s spirit, his drive. The last place you talked and smiled with him.
Your parents had to come get you. They never came to the games so when they got the call, it took them awhile to arrive.
Motionless and heartbroken, they carried you off the field and took you home.
Your boyfriend— the love of your life was gone.
He’d left you to face the word all alone.
You barely remember anything afterwards. Just how you didn’t take off your cheerleading uniform that night, how you fell asleep crying into your pillow, hugging the stuffed animal Wally had won you once at a fair.
You fell asleep with tear streaked face and thinking of him.
Little did you know, back at the school, as a ghost, Wally was doing the same thing. He sat in the boys locker room, staring at a picture he kept of you in his locker. He swiped his thumb slowly over the photograph, his eyes welled with tears.
୨୧ carl grimes x f!reader. in which carl is afraid to show himself in front of reader.
note. might’ve went a little overboard 😬 but hey, i had fun writing it. hope u love reading it <3 mentions of insecurities! & not fully proof-read!
When Carl lost his eye during the invasion at Alexandria, he had to adjust to everything. He felt ashamed, ugly whenever someone stared at him a little too long.
He grew out his hair, stopped looking in mirrors, and before he left his home, he always had a new bandage wrapped around, his hat hung low. All in attempt to hide his eye—his difference, from everyone.
Everyone except you.
You knew him before. The sweet boy who was innocent and unscarred. At first, he hid from you too. He thought you’d see the new him and run and hide. Think he was a monster.
He turned away from you at every corner. Avoided you even when you came to his room after he was able to go home after the accident. Carl was just released from medical, and the moment you heard, you rushed to his house.
Yet, he kept his back to you and refused to take a glance at you. No matter how bad he wanted to.
No matter how bad he wanted to look at you— into your colored eyes and melt into them like he always had before.
He wished he could forget the way he told you to leave, how you quietly begged for him to let you in. How you turned and ran out of his house.
Carl pushed you away, thinking it was for the better.
But you were stubborn and never took no for an answer.
One night, you knocked on the front door. You were over the hiding. You felt like you were losing your best friend.
Even in Alexandria where there were neighbors and people every turn you took, you felt alone.
Carl was the only one who understood you.
You stumbled back when Michonne answered the door. You hadn’t expected it. “Y/N?” Michonne raised her brows, lightly furrowed in concern and curiosity. Wondering what you were doing here, especially at this hour. It must’ve been at least 8PM.
You opened your mouth to speak before closing it to swallow deeply. “Uhm, is Carl here?” You muttered out.
A knowing smile rose to Michonne’s lips. She should’ve known.
She nods, “Yeah. He’s upstairs in his room.” She opens the door wider, “Come on in.”
A relieved smile takes over you once you step inside, wishing her a small thank you.
Quickly but as quietly as you could, you make your way up the stairs and go down the hall to meet his bedroom.
The door was closed but a small light shined underneath the door, signaling he was still awake.
You stood in front of his bedroom door, hesitant. Should you knock? Just walk in? Shout out it’s you? But what if he just bids you off. . again.
Finally, after standing there like a stuck idiot, you push away the thoughts, raise your fist and knock. You don’t speak yet, just listen.
Then, you hear his voice, “What?” Sounded like a teenager, annoyed by his parent checking in on him. It almost makes you laugh.
You raise your fist to knock again, your voice coming out small a second later, “It’s me. . . Y/N.”
As if he couldn’t tell instantly from the moment you spoke. The same voice he’s missed since the last time you tried to talk to him.
It goes quiet. More quiet, if that was possible.
“Go away, Y/N.” He displayed his voice angry but inside the room, it sent his heart two steps back at the thought of you being on the other side of the door.
His words hurt you, making your chest ache. But you couldn’t leave now.
You wouldn’t.
“You can’t keep shutting me out, Carl.” You said, more confident than before. “Can I come in?”
A quick, “No!”
You let out a soft groan in frustration. You reached for the door handle, “I’m coming in!” As you open the door, you hear shuffling near the bed. You make your way into the familiar bedroom.
Your eyes scanned the posters on the wall, the stack of comics on the floor and the sight of it all made your heart skip a beat. Because the room was him.
All the things he loved and made him himself.
Then, your eyes led to his bed. There he was.
Like before— he sat at the edge of the bed, back towards you, shutting you out. It made you sigh.
He didn’t move. Stared down in his lap, sitting on the bed. His hat was off, discarded to the other side of the room.
His hair was brushed, and you could see the white bandage peeking out between his hair that wrapped around his head.
“You have to face me eventually.” You whispered, still stood near the entrance of his room.
No response.
You sucked in an inhale and stepped forward, “Please, look at me.” You pleaded, your voice wavering.
It killed him. The sound of your voice. As if your heart was breaking like his.
You dared to step closer, sitting on the opposite side of the mattress. He felt the dip and even though you weren’t touching him, you being so close nearly sent him crazy.
You were so close. Yet, he was too afraid to turn and see you, touch you, or even speak.
“Carl. . .” You whispered. “I can’t stand this. Being apart. It’s been weeks, Carl. Look at me, please.” It’s been weeks since the breech at Alexandria, since Ron shot him, since you cried on his bed side when he was unconscious.
It felt like longer since he started to shut you out. Since the day Rick invited you over to cheer up his spirits and Carl ignored you and told you to leave.
You wanted your best friend back.
You wanted him back.
“You’ll think I’m ugly.” His voice came out cracked, raw. Your heart skipped a beat at his voice— a sound you’ve missed even if it was different.
You shake your head, forgetting he can’t see you, “I won’t.” You didn’t hesitate, “You were always handsome to me.”
If it was any other time, he would’ve blushed. Instead, he let out a scoff. He didn’t think anything about him was handsome. Not anymore.
Your gaze drifted in your lap, your hand sliding from the mattress to your lap. An idea struck your mind.
A soft smile rose to your lips before you gripped the white sheet that scrunched up at the foot of the bed. In one swift movement, you threw it both of your heads.
Carl’s eye widened, off guard by your movements. “It’s okay. Don’t you remember when we used to do this?”
As kids, back at the first camp in Atlanta, you were all alone and his mother, Lori, took you in. You slept in their tent, shared rations, and were treated as if one of her own.
This also meant endless sleepovers for you and your new friend, Carl Grimes.
At night, while his mother slept, you’d climb onto Carl’s clot and he’d pull the blanket over your heads, hold the bright flashlight between you and tell scary stories back and forth.
And when you got too scared, he’d hold your hand and remind you that it wasn’t real, that he’d protect you. No matter what.
A soft smile rises to Carl’s lips as he recalled the memory.
“I’ll close my eyes.” You said, “Just look at me.”
“Want to feel your gaze on me again.”
Before he could agree, you fluttered your eyes closed. At first, you didn’t hear anything. Not a movement or a sound from him.
But you waited patiently for him.
Then, he shifted under the sheet and faced you. You felt it. His familiar gaze.
His eye softened upon seeing your face. Eyes closed, lips in a slight frown, strands of hair brushing your long eyelashes.
He couldn’t help but gently push back your hair, his thumb brushing against your skin. Long enough to make your skin shiver. Long enough to make your lips curve up a little.
“You’re here.” You whispered.
He smiled soft and vulnerable, “Yeah.” He breathed out.
Minutes passed under the sheet, not a lot of words between each other but the soft touches. He shifted closer, your knees brushing, and his hand inches away from yours.
The only sounds that was heard was the steady breathing from the two of you.
“I want you to see me.” He whispered, breaking the silence. Your breath hitched but you didn’t open your eyes yet.
You nodded slowly.
“Keep your eyes closed.” He instructed quietly. You did.
Carl slowly unwrapped the bandage around his head. You could hear his breathing becoming more shaky as he did.
He was afraid. He didn’t want to lose you but if he didn’t show you, he was afraid he’d lose you anyway.
Once he removed the bandage, the wrapping landed in his lap as he exposed his empty eye socket to your closed eyes.
Carl let out another shaky exhale before he spoke, “Okay. Open your eyes.”
You took a second before your eyes fluttered open. Firstly, your eyes blurred, blinking trying to get used to the lighting before it zoned onto him. Your best friend. The warm light shined through the sheet, creating a glow around him.
He watched as your eyes scanned over his face, his features, his new feature. Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Then, he watched a smile take over your mouth.
It confused him at first.
Then he realized, you weren’t making fun of him. You didn’t think he was ugly or monstrous.
You were looking at him.
Not his missing eye— the real him.
You held a sort of adoration as you looked at him. Like you stumbled across a beautiful painting in a museum and couldn’t tear your eyes away.
As he realized that, his own tears grew in his eye.
Slowly, your hand lifted and your thumb caressed his cheekbone. “You’re beautiful.” A soft laugh bubbled out between his cries.
You thought he was beautiful. Even now you did. You never treated him differently— not something to be fixed or taken care of. If anything, you saw more. More than he ever did about himself.
The next thing you knew, you leaned in slowly, your lips brushing his when you glanced up at him asking silently for permission. He nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing.
You took the incitative, leaned in fully and pressed your lips against his.
It was innocent, soft and spoke all the words you couldn’t. Breaking all barriers past friendship, but neither of you cared. Because right now, in this moment, it was just you and him, under the blanket and in your own world.
୨୧ bellamy blake x f!reader in which bellamy tells reader he’s going to earth, and wants her to come with him.
She’s in her room, reading the same book she’s read about a thousand times. On the Ark, they didn’t have a large amount of books. The world blew up and they didn’t exactly prioritize collecting some reading.
That was a hundred years ago.
Society has been living in space, a place called the Ark. The Ark had twelve stations, a council, a commander who ruled the society, Jaha.
Sometimes she hated this place, the reality. One thing that got her through it, was Bellamy Blake.
He was her best friend ever since they were little kids who met in the cafeteria. When Bellamy wanted to become a guard, she rolled her eyes, thinking he had been joking.
Once she realized he was serious, she helped him. Helped him study for the final test, and celebrated with him when he passed.
They told each other everything, all their secrets. Except one. That Bellamy was a sibling. On the Ark, everyone was only allowed to birth one child. It would be a risk, a take of oxygen and rations.
It was the day of the dance. She had decided not to go, and stayed in her room. Her head snapped up when she heard the door open and saw a panicked Bellamy walk in. He was shaking, dressed in his guard uniform. She sat up, “Bellamy, what happened?”
She remembered that night. How he finally told her about his younger sister, Octavia. He snuck her inside the party and when the other guards showed up, they took her away. Octavia got locked up, and she would be there until she was eighteen.
At eighteen, they were taken to the council and decide if their crimes would be erased or they would be floated. In this case, she wasn’t sure.
It was a year later now, and it almost felt like Deja Vu when she had been in her room, and the door opened quickly. Her head snapped up, “Bellamy?” She asked, her tone laced in concern. She sat on the edge of her bed, closing her book and pushing it to the side.
He shut the door behind him, and walked over to her bed. “Bellamy, what’s going on? Are you okay?” He ignored her questions, and took her hands in his. She quickly noticed the seriousness in his expression.
“Come with me.”
She blinked, “What? Where?”
“Earth.” Her eyes widened lightly. “They’re sending my sister and everyone in the skybox there.” She cut him off, “But Earth isn’t safe.”
He sighed, “It must be now.” He guessed, shrugging.
“They’re sending Octavia and I have a chance get on that expedition ship. And I can get you on too. I want you to come with me.” Her breath hitched quietly. Her best friend, the person she quietly loved was asking her to come with him, to Earth. The planet that held freedom, questions, and a new life.
“I don’t want to leave you behind, I can’t. Not after what I’ve done.”
Her brows furrowed deeper, “What did you—” He shook his head, “I can’t tell you how.” He held her hands tighter, “Please say you’ll come with me.”
Her heart fought her head. The risks were too great, but this was Bellamy. Her best friend.
He was kneeling in front of her, his eyes pleading for her to come with him.
Her lips parted, and she feels herself nodding.
“I’ll come with you.”
not proof read!!! this is so random but this has been in my head for awhile.
୨୧ conrad fisher x f!reader. in which reader attends the debutante ball with conrad, and leaves with heartbreak.
Her and Conrad had been dating for the last few months, basically since the start of the summer. It had been a surprise to Belly when she came back to Cousins and saw a girl holding Conrad’s hand, and calling herself his girlfriend.
Belly tried to ignore the effect it had on her heart whenever she saw them together. Maybe she even decided to shift her focus onto the other Fisher brother.
It was debutante season.
She had been looking forward to this all her life. Ever since her older sister was a deb. She did the dances, the charity, anything that would help.
When she asked Conrad to be her date, she had been lying beside him in his bed. Her head rested on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles to the back of his hand that rested on his abdomen. While Conrad held her close, his eyes glued to the movie that played on his laptop.
It was ‘10 Things I Hate About You’, a movie that Conrad let her choose for the movie night.
Suddenly, she sat up, supporting her body weight on her elbow as her gaze flickered to him. His eyes watched the screen before feeling her stare. Conrad grinned as he looked at her, “What?”
“Will you be my date… to the debutante ball? I know you said that it’s not really your thing but I just really—”
He cut her off by lifting up his hand and cupping the side of her face. “Shh,” His thumb caressed her cheek, “You’re right, it’s not really my thing. I think it’s kind of stupid but,” He grinned softly at the look on her face, “I would love to be your date.”
Her lips turn up into a genuine smile. She leans in, pressing her lips against his. Conrad would do anything to make her happy.
At least that’s what she thought.
Everything was going perfectly that night of the ball.
She wore a beautiful white dress, one she picked out with her sister. It had taken her hours in the shop, trying to find the perfect one that complimented her. She wore light makeup, and her hair curled.
It was magical. As she picked up her flowers and was introduced into society with Conrad Fisher by her side, his arm hooked with hers.
It was after the boys dance that she stood in the middle of the court, giggling at something Conrad had said when Belly walks up to them. “Hey, have you guys seen Jere?” She asked, her voice laced in concern.
The girl was one second away from being embarrassed about her date disappearing. She furrows her brows as she looks around, trying to find the curly haired boy for Belly. When she didn’t see him, she looks back at the girl, placing a comforting hand on her arm, “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. I’ll help you look.” Belly gives her a grateful smile.
She looks back at Conrad, giving him a look before she walks away, helping the young girl look for her date.
She steps outside, the one place they hadn’t looked. She crossed her arms over her chest, running her hands up and down, to ease the goosebumps on her skin that the wind caused. As she walks further outside, she spots Jeremiah. He was sitting down, the brightness from his phone shining onto his teary face.
“Hey,” She called out, her voice gentle as she kneels down to his level beside him. At the sound of her voice, his head perks up. Her hand rests comfortably on his shoulder while Jeremiah hurries to wipe his tears.
“Jere, what happened? Are you okay?” He opened his mouth to speak, to search for any excuse of why he had left abruptly and was crying outside. But nothing came. Instead, his mind flickered back to the truth he had found and another cry escaped his lips.
She frowned, and wrapped her arm around him, pulling him close as he cried, his tears falling onto her dress. In any other situation, she would’ve cared but it was Jere.
Once she heard his cries calm down, and his body relax, she speaks up again, “You okay?” He sniffled and nodded, lifting his head off of her. He wiped the remainder of his tears and smoothed out his tux.
She softly smiled and stood up, reaching out a hand for him. He dryly chuckled before placing his hand into hers, standing up.
The two walked together, heading back into the Country club and when she heard the music, she began to panic lightly. She hoped that the dance hadn’t already started, especially since she had left Conrad all alone.
When they walked back inside, her eyes scanned for Conrad, while Jeremiah searched for Belly. Her face dropped when she found him on the ballroom floor, dancing with Belly. Her heart fell to her stomach as she watched them.
Jeremiah seemed to have found them too.
She notices the way Conrad looked at her. The way his eyes followed her every movement.
She was suddenly reminded of everything she wanted to forget. The times she caught the stolen glances between them, or how on the night of Fourth of July, when they were supposed to be together, she had found them out on the dock, and they almost kissed.
She blinked and felt a tear slip down her cheek. She wasn’t unaware how her eyes had come overwhelmed with tears. She snapped out of her thoughts, “I have to go.” She whispered, turning on her heels.
Jeremiah called out her name, but she didn’t stop. She hurried out, not looking back.
This wasn’t the magical night she dreamed of.
No matter how much she wanted to deny it, Conrad didn’t love her. He loved Belly.
ur stiles smut was so good!!! can you do like a shower sex one with him and f reader?
18+ !! in which, you give stiles some motivation to score a goal. and you always keep your promises.
It was lacrosse season and being the supportive girlfriend you were, you came to every game. All dressed out; wearing Stiles’s jersey, the team colors painting the number #24 on your right cheek. Even though most of the season he spent his time on the bench, you still tried to be supportive.
But at this game, it was almost half-time and some miracle came and the coach sent Stiles out to the field. You couldn’t stop the excitement you got the moment you saw him on the field. There were a few times he had got the ball, getting excited too early because it resulted in the opposing team taking it.
So, when half-time came by, Stiles ran over to you by the bleachers. His forehead shined with sweat making his grown out hair stick to his face, and his lips parted as he panted lightly. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, snapping you out of your thoughts and smiling at him. “Hi, baby. Look like you're getting beat out there.” He sighed, nodding, “I know. I can’t keep the ball.”
At this moment, it was as if an idea popped into your head and a small lightbulb shined above. You grinned, “I know… I think I might have something to motivate you, wanna hear it?”
Stiles’s eyes shined on yours, you leaned in and whispered into his ear, “If you score a goal, I promise you…” In your last words, his eyes widened and peered away from you. “You're not kidding?” He asked. With a shake of your head, he grinned big like a kid about to go into the candy store.
He kissed your cheek, “I love you. I love you!” He beamed and ran off to go back onto the field, a newfound pep in his step.
Safe to say, he got the ball once again and didn’t let the opposite team steal and instead, he scored a goal. You jumped up from your seat along with everyone on the bleachers, cheering for your boyfriend who was grinning on the field.
After the game, you automatically went to go find him. You walk into the locker room after knowing most of the team has gone home or gone out to celebrate already; you walk in and don’t see anyone or hear much other than the showerhead in the back. You set down your stuff on one of the benches, kick off your shoes and tie your hair into a high ponytail. You knew where he’d be. You walk deeper into the locker room and see Stiles under the shower head, you smirk to yourself and since he hadn’t seen you yet, you slip off the rest of your clothes.
You step behind him in the shower and place a hand on his shoulder, “You played good tonight, baby.” You whisper before you lean forward, lips smashing together. It was a hungry kiss but at the same time, gentle, chaotic and passionate. Just like him.
He places his hands on your waist, kissing you deeper while moving you backwards until you’re against the tile wall causing you to let out a small moan. You pull away from the kiss and not even getting a few centimeters away, he grabs the back of your head and pulls you in for another making you dryly laugh.
You push on his chest and look up at him now, “Shh, baby. You shot the winning shot, didn’t you?” He nods, “Now, let me treat you like a winner.” You whisper, laying a peck on his jawline before your hands run down his body and kneel down.
You peek up at him and all you see is his lips curving into a cocky smile.
if you know me… no you don’t! & sorry i made it implied smut instead!