call me kay, 25, she/her, main blog, come and go writer, focus on whoever i am obsessed with at any given moment
accepting requests - check out my rules - masterlist
latest works:
ryland grace
professional dev.: coworker is talking smack about teacher!reader and ryland comes for support (~1.6k)
who you really are: psychologist!reader is aboard Hail Mary, helping Grace cope but needing to cope themselves (based on this ask) more friend vibe? or survival vibe? they don't remember much about who they are and it's stressing reader out (~2.5k, angst? hurt/comfort?)
bruce wayne
repeat: bruce lets an “I love you” slip while you’re having an intimate moment
in progress:
clark kent
running backwards: you broke up, you're both taking it hard (angst, fluff)
matt murdock/benjamin poindexter
divine deliverence: (5 parts) matt is a flaky boyfriend, and girl, dex is right fucking there
AND i want to write something about eating watermelon (or something... idk) and a piece falling on your chest and clark having a shit eating grin (featuring his dimple, much to your own agony) before eating it off you and licking the juice (guys i may be ovulating) LOOK AT HIM!!! you think he WOULDN'T?
writing a one shot about juice dripping from your mouth, baelor swiping it off without hesitation, and him licking his fingers clean while maintaining terribly horny eye contact... you're not even officially together btw
Pairing - WC: David!Clark Kent x bsf/theater actress!Reader | 700 (sorry It was meant to be 300 per the challenge!)
Summary: The familiar comfort of scripts, dinner, and Clark's apartment starts feeling a little too close to call friendship. Day 5 of June Jukebox Scribbles
Tags: flirty and fluffy, Clark yearning hours, mutual pining, close proximity (dancing, singing), almost kiss mwah mwah mwah💋
rewatched Spider-Man 3...do the twist
event masterlist
Practice stretched well into the evening, the way it usually did when you showed up with a new script and that hopeful sparkle in your eyes.
Clark listened to your audition monologue until the words lived in his bones, pausing only to offer soft notes slower on the turn, breathe before the last line, don’t rush the heartbreak.
Every time you launched into it again, you shined brighter. Pride and this deep and aching warmth swelled in his chest each.
Dinner followed like always: garlic, basil, flour dust on the counter this time.
You at his stove. Him passing the salt before you asked. Flour on his shirt from when you’d accused him of hovering and flicked it at him. Tomato sauce smudged across your cheek after you leaned in to taste from the spoon he held to your lips.
Clark knew his gaze lingered lately.
Maybe because his apartment started keeping you even after reluctant good-bye's and good-nights: your mug beside his coffee maker, his blanket you stole when you were cold, your stack of books claiming his nightstand with a bossy little, “Trust me, Kent. These are good.”
Somewhere along the way, his favorite part of every day had become waiting for your knock at his door.
And now, his neighbor's record player crackled through the paper-thin walls. A familiar opening harmonica kicked in as a bright and bold croon followed.
Hey, hey, baby!
You perked up, turning to him with hands clasped to your chest. “Oh, I love this song, Clark!”
He grinned. Of course he knew that! He knew everything you loved with your whole heart.
Before he could answer, you traded the wooden spoon in his grasp for yours and tugged him closer.
“C'mon! Dance with me! I need the practice!”
Clark didn't hesitate. One broad palm settled low on your waist, fingers splayed as he drew you in. The other laced tighter through yours. Your bodies pressed flush from the start, and he couldn't help but tease you.
"'Kay, but careful," he spun you toward the dining table. "Can’t risk burning Metropolis’s star actress before her big audition tomorrow."
Your laugh warmed him clear through as you slid over the hardwood in imperfect sync, singing under your breath while the kitchen gathered around you in all its mess: flour streaked across his shirt, sauce bubbling too hot on the stove, a dusting of parmesan on the counter, your script abandoned dangerously close to a smear of olive oil.
I said, "That’s the kind of gal I’d like to meet."
Your hip brushed against his thigh on the turn, then again, cheekily. Clark’s hand dared to slide lower. Flour dusted from his shirt onto yours as your breasts pressed against him after each twirl and twist.
"She’s so pretty," Clark sang again, eyes holding yours as the words no longer felt borrowed. "Lord, she’s fine."
Your lips pressed together, and you ducked your face into his chest bashfully before he could see too much of what all of this did to you.
But Clark felt it.
Your fingers curled tighter around his bicep.
Your breath caught against the cotton of his shirt.
Clark’s thumb traced a slow circle over your spine as he dipped his head close enough to catch the scent of your shampoo beneath garlic and basil.
"I’m gonna make her mine, all mine," he sang against your hair.
He heard your heartbeat jump instantly, and so did his.
Finally, you looked up at him, face illuminated in the golden kitchen light.
"All mine," you mouthed back, squeezing his hand.
Traces of city noise, music, the sauce, your script all faded beneath the rush of blood in his ears.
All he saw was his best friend. His favorite person.
The one who had been with him through every bad day, every small victory, every lonely stretch of life he'd never quite knew how to fill.
The woman he wanted beside him for every tomorrow he could imagine.
One flour-dusted hand rose to your cheek, thumb swiping gently at the tomato sauce there, but neither pulled away after it was gone.
Gosh, you were so close.
Close enough to notice the way your head tipped just so with a half-lidded gaze fixed on his lips.
Close enough that if he ducked his head just a tad lower—
I wanna know if you’ll be my—
A violent hiss erupted behind him, and you both startled apart gasping.
“Shit, Clark! Our dinner!” you yelped, slipping from his embrace to point.
Clark groaned, lunging to cut off the stove while you scrambled for a dish towel, wiping at the spill with shaky hands and laughing like you hadn’t just almost kissed him in the middle of his ruined kitchen.
The pasta was spared, the kitchen still stood, the actress unscathed. And whatever almost happened between you was merely...delayed.
Because when Clark looked back at you, still smiling at him like he hung the moon and eyes lingering on his lips.
—my girl. Hey, hey, baby!
Only one thought remained.
Soon.
He was going to ask you to choose him differently.
Insanely close call!! The Baelor fic wins, but don’t worry!! Next will be the Matt/Dex one so if that interested you please stick around! I’ll just be prioritizing posting the Baelor one first
Let me know if you want tagged in anything! Thanks for voting💕
i have an idea for a 5 part fic for matt murdock x reader and eventual benjamin poindexter x reader and i need encouragement and to yap
thank u everyone showing interest 🙏 i am spiraling
sooooo i am thinking it can be titled divine deliverance. each chapter is a step to... well, divine deliverance.
repentance
forgiveness
renunciation
authority
blessing
i am thinking to go with non-vigilante reader, but she knows about daredevil because i don't care about that secret <3 matt has so many things to shit on him for and i am past hiding he is daredevil (sort of)...
neighbor!dex, pre bullseye but leading up to? or maybe he is new to it, doesn't have the name yet? season 3 goes so hard and the symbolism of him the daredevil suit and ending up with reader could be ooooo...
basically, matt sucks at being a boyfriend (canon... even though i am also in love with him) and dex is supportive of reader through it. i literally have an outline typed so i don’t know why i'm coming up blank right now but i am <3 please yap with me about it if interested <3
the concept of meeting a younger baelor targaryen at a party... but not even actually meeting him, or really taking any particular notice of him. but he noticed you.
the care free woman he had heard so much talk about. the woman that was brushed off as a lost cause, as trouble. youth gone, innocence taken, and personality of a wild animal. skittish, brash, persistent. yet when he saw you... you were observant, honest, determined.
he can do nothing but allow himself to observe you. to watch as you swirl through the crowd, avoiding conversations that you had calculated would be nothing but a waste of your own time. he needs to be worth your time and he isn't yet. you don't even know he is there, but he knows he cannot approach you yet.
and he never would approach you that evening. knowing he wouldn't see you for months, if not years, if not ever again. but if it was meant to happen, he knew it would. it wasn't the moment and baelor isn't someone to rush or force. you have too much of yourself so perfectly curated for him to rush it. he had to take you in slowly if he was going to truly admire.
AND LMAO (i edited and added on)
meeting him for the first time and being so unimpressed meanwhile baelor is just 😍. kissing the back of your hand, maintaining Too Much eye contact (years down the line you'd wish you could've had more). it's not even that you would dislike him, he would make it practically impossible to dislike him... but he's just so fucking good while every other man in existence is extremely terrible. it feels like a trap, your guard is up and he knows why. it just makes it worse for you, because above all... baelor is a patient man.
please check out my reblog to vote on info about the reader 🙏
Ice cold water surrounds your hand as you grab a bottled water from the cooler. The room is already stuffy, teachers squeezing into the space and making conversation. Professional development days were no one's favorite… okay, maybe admins' favorite. Even that might be pushing it.
You shake off the bottle, trying to prevent any drips on your shirt. It's stuffy, yes, but this was never your thing. Crowds, that is. Crowds of adults, to be more specific. The kids are no problem, they don't lay judgmental eyes on you and murmur about your ability to do your job. Mark, however, did both things with ease.
"We know who not to go to for a chaperone. You have a hard enough time managing the kids at school, hate to see how it'd go on a trip." Mark made himself more than comfortable talking shit about you while standing just inches away.
He's taking another gulp of his Mountain Dew, mustache brushing the tab of his can. You do your best to force an awkward smile, because what are you supposed to do? What did it matter if Mark made a comment? A comment that eats away at you in the middle of the night, sure, but still.
He can't stop himself. "I mean, really. Your kids were all over the place," his hand waves mindlessly, trying to depict the chaos. "There you are, little mouse voice." He puts on an extremely exaggerated voice, "Excuse me… excuse me, kids. Now kids, cut that out…"
Your cheeks burn. Was this necessary? No, but it had earned a few laughs from the surrounding teachers. You offer up a small chuckle, just trying your best to squeeze through to the end of this bit. Your eyes left Mark, too embarrassed about the idea that maybe you really did look like that. Did you?
Scanning for something else to look at, your eyes find Ryland again. The two of you had gotten separated by earlier conversations, and you'd give anything to get back to his side. He's not far away, just a few feet. All you needed to do was speak up to make your exit.
Mark doesn't seem capable of letting anyone else talk, though. "The kids were acting like bats out of hell, I step over and they all get in line! Just like that!" He snaps his fingers and earns some more laughter that will inflate his ego.
Ryland's eyes weren't on his own conversation, but on your's. On Mark, actually. But then he peels to you. His head tilts, checking on you silently. You hesitate on how to respond.
He wouldn't make a scene, but you knew he'd defend you. And honestly? You just wanted to silently step away from the issue. So, you send a small smile Ryland's way. Immediately, you see that he isn't going to be convinced. He is already giving polite smiles, hand out as he removes himself from his current conversation. It's motivation to speak up and leave before he comes.
Your voice is quiet, being mostly unused for the last several mintues."Hey—"
"Almost like the kids don't even hear their own teacher's fucking voice, man!" Mark laughs over you.
You probably could've just walked away with nothing said, Mark certainly wouldn't have noticed. But the two teachers he was talking to definitely would've. They'd been glancing at you endlessly, trying to take in your reactions. What did how you feel matter? They laugh regardless.
"Hey, Mark!" Ryland inserts himself with a big smile. Your head gently shakes, but he's focused on Mark.
"Grace, hey." Mark rolls out a laugh, still on his own high. "Came to collect?"
You. He meant you. And he always did that, just Grace, like he thinks it's some sly insult he can get away with.
"Came to butt in, you know it's my specialty." Ryland shoves one hand into his pocket, the other wrapping around your waist.
You'd have yourself convinced it was to 'claim' you, but with the gentle pressure of him pulling you into his side, you know it's to comfort you. His thumb is rubbing your side, just another reminder that he is with you.
"Is it?" Mark laughs awkwardly. He glances to the other two teachers, ready to earn more of their praise. "Isn't his thing more… riding his bike to work, alone… eating his lunch, alone… planning his lessons, alone?" He looks at Ryland again. "Thought your specialty was more so staying by yourself?"
The other teachers aren't quite as responsive now. As if seeing Grace with you made them think. Or maybe he was just becoming increasingly obvious. Now their laughs sounded like a quiet plea to end the conversation.
"You make it sound like you wanna see some more of me." Ryland smiles at him like absolutely nothing can phase him. You bump your hip into his to scold him, but the smile on your lips doesn't do much to help push your message. He just squeezes your hip.
Mark's eyes are scanning you again, though he doesn't have the same look. So easy to prey on when you're on your own. Both you and Grace, and you both know it. Ryland can take it when it's just him, Mark is more than welcome stomp on him like a doormat! And you, you can let it go when Mark tries to make your kindness seem like a weakness. He needed to be the hero of someone's story, even if it was a total lie.
"Hey," Ryland takes advantage of Mark's rare silence, finger waving like he is trying to remember something. "I just remembered, great job regrouping the kids earlier, babe."
Your brows raise, glancing at Ryland as he compliments you so suddenly. "Um… thank you?"
"Yeah, it was like magic!" He chuckles, kissing your temple. He turns to the other teachers. "The kids were coming from PE, you know… Mark's?" You could step on his foot. He continues, "Stepping out right behind Mark, acting so insane! Screaming, pretty sure I saw some smacking, definitely saw someone trying to trip someone else, some shoving… I didn't know you let the kids get that way, Mark?"
It was a true picture of how it all started. Mark couldn't deny it.
"Well," he cleared his throat, taking a quick drink of his empty can. "You know how kids can be."
The other two teachers glance at one another, knowing that Ryland was a much less bias storyteller, even if it involved you. All around, he's just a much more honest person.
"Right," one of them chuckled, nodding. "But you got 'em right away, right Mark?"
"Uhhh…" Mark shifted on his feet. You were starting to enjoy this conversation.
"No," Ryland had no issue resonding for him. He lips are dramatically downturned. "No, no. Mark had that deep voice of his, wagging that finger at them. You know how he is!" He laughs, going in to a very dramatic deep tone, "Cut it out! Cut it out, you want me to get the principal?"
And the other two laugh, easily falling for whichever side was winning. Getting another glimpse at Mark, you could swear he was blushing. What?
"Ah, you know Mark!" Grace laughs, waving his hand carelessly. "He just lets the kids have so much fun, no wonder they don't wanna calm back down for him. But, y'know, you came over…" his hand his on your shoulder, head tilted as he looks at you with his first genuine smile of the night. "The kids started cooling it immediately, whispering to one another that you were there. It was like you brought this calm with you."
To sell his story, Grace closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and raising his arms. "They just started calming back down from seeing you…" he exhales slowly, letting his hands slowly fall back down. One eye cracks open, looking at you with a grin.
"I dunno…" you chuckle, glancing around. It's hard to take the compliment.
The second of the two teachers speaks up, "No, it's true. You do have this really calm aura about you. I'm sure your kids settled for you right away."
They had smiles on their faces now, something genuine. It wasn't a snickering laugh, or a sly grin to show Mark they were on his side. And Mark! You could've forgotten about him. Actually, you did.
"Outta pop," Mark awkwardly held up his can. "Gonna refresh."
"Be a shame to lose you!" Ryland fakes, pouting and body turning as if he was going to follow the rude man. You tap his foot with your own as a warning. You see his lips twitch into a smile.
The other two had excused themselves too, probably going to find some new conversation to slink into. And here you thought you'd have to be the one to walk away.
"How do you do that?" You ask, watching Mark temporarily remove himself from any conversation.
"Hmm?" Grace's head whips around to face you, his arm falls back into place around your waist.
"You just turn a conversation like it's nothing." You reply, gesturing vaguely.
"You wanna get out of here?" He asks, strand of hair bouncing as he tilts his head and scans your face. You don't feel judgment from his eyes. Not like theirs.
"What?" Your brows furrow together, thrown off.
"Technically, it's our lunch." He pretends to glance at his watch. "You wanna go to the diner?"
"You're doing it again." You point out.
"Doing what?" He feigns innocence.
"Being ever the subject changer."
"Is it working?"
You can't help but smile. "Yes."
"Wonderful!" He takes your hand in his, kissing the back of it before heading out.
Thank god it didn't have to turn into some huge. Grace just has that energy about him, you suppose.
if i hypothetically write a multi part fic for matt murdock x reader, benjamin poindexter x reader (please, someone, ask about it) would you prefer using y/n or just make an oc?? it's planned to be about 5 parts is all, but i haven't ever written something like this 🩷 and don't care but know people do
Thinking about Grace getting the burn like he does in the book, and reader panicking, absolutely losing their mind as they themselves have a foggy head from just everything fucking happening. Probably in and out of consciousness from Mary slamming around (probably concussed) and just waking up to that and Rocky?? angst. disapprove.
someone ask me about my dex fic title ideas (should it be a multi part thing? because i have the PERFECT thing for a 5 part fic)
it has angst, it has fluff, it has hurt, it has comfort... or... it will :) matt is reader's ex, so you know that elektra will be mentioned. i want TO SPIRaL PLEASE
Okok take all the time you need with thattt and feel free to reject any of my ideas.
But hear me out just another idea before I forget it
This is pre-Hail Mary, alr, SO, teacher Grace and teacher!reader, there’s like a staff meeting or party, and there’s another teacher who’s talking smack about reader, aaannddd I want protective Grace 👉👈 perhaps! Just ideas!!!
-🌷
tulip, i am so sorry for how long this has taken me to get around to 😭 but i'm working on it now
thinking about maybe shy!reader who the other teacher is judging for being "too kind"... trying to joke about them, getting some laughs. ryland is visibly angry, shifting on his feet. you whisper to him "it's okay, really" but he's just not having it. he really tries to do as you ask and drop it, but it just really burns his biscuits, okay!?
