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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 9 months

Note

hi i’m so in love with the way you write roy omg!! i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is maybe the team physio and she has a daughter like around phoebes age? just like fluffy pining roy <33333

Take Your Daughter to Work Day

Roy Kent x Mom!Reader

1.9k words

Warnings: Language

I'm such a sucker for pining Roy!! And potential step-dad Roy? Oh my heart 😫

“Good morning, Mister Roy!”

Roy wasn’t expecting to see your daughter sitting in the corner of the treatment room when he walked in with your morning coffee. Despite his surprise, he offered her a smile as he handed you a to-go cup.

“Morning, Bevs,” he responded, deciding that your kid was the politest one in Phoebe’s class. He turned to you. “Didn’t know it was Take Your Daughter to Work Day. Would’ve brought her a hot chocolate.”

With a sigh, you shook your head, making sure Beverly had turned back to the book in her hands. “School was out today and tomorrow for some conference the teachers have,” you explained in a low voice. “And my mum’s still recovering from her surgery, and I couldn’t get a sitter, so Bee’s with me today.”

Roy couldn’t help the way his eyebrows flew up. “Her dad wasn’t able to help out? Thought he worked from home. It’s not like Bev needs constant supervision.”

Your grip tightened around your cup as you rolled your eyes. “It’s not his day,” you whispered, your voice full of annoyance. “Which apparently means he’s not a parent until Friday afternoon.”

“Fucking twat,” Roy snorted. He immediately remembered that there was a child in the room. “Shit. Sorry.”

The laugh that flew out of your mouth sent a shiver down his spine, especially when it was punctuated by your hand touching his bicep. “You’re fine,” you assured him, giving his arm a squeeze before letting go. “It’s completely true, anyways. Even Bee knows that, although maybe in less colorful language.”

Roy returned your smile as he watched you bring your coffee to your lips. “Right, right.”

He wondered if you knew he fancied you. You had to know. He brought you coffee every morning, was always on time for his sessions with you despite his reputation for chronic lateness, he somehow always managed to be the one to bring Phoebe to playdates with Beverly, even when his sister was available, and he knew the way he looked at you was rarely, if ever, professional. In most cases, he’d have asked you out already.

But he knew that, as a single mum, your situation was different from most cases. He saw it with his sister. You had to prioritize the wonderful little human that sat in the corner of the treatment room who called him “Mister Roy” and always gave him a hug and thanked him for rides home from school on those days that you were desperate for help. He also knew that asking you out meant more than drinks and straight to bed; it would be something real, something he’d have to commit to. And he definitely was interested in that; he just didn’t know if you thought so.

Sam Obisanya poked his head into the room, interrupting the silence. “Good morning.” His eyes found your daughter. “Oh, hey there, Beverly!”

Your daughter waved. “Good morning, Mister Sam!” Roy found it adorable the way she always called adults “Mister” or “Miss”.

“Hey, Sam,” you sighed. “Ready?”

Sam nodded and plopped himself down on your table. Roy saw your eyes shift over to Beverly. He could see it on your expression: She’s going to be so bored.

Without a second thought, Roy approached your daughter, taking his time to crouch down in front of her in spite of his knee. “Oi, Bevvie.” She looked up. “I know you’d probably rather read your book, but I’ve got all these papers in my office, they need to be put in alphabetical order. Think you could come help me with that? And maybe after you could come out on the pitch, help us with training. Then we could grab some lunch with your mum.” He looked over his shoulder at you. “Would that be alright?”

For a moment you thought you were going to cry. Fuck, Roy Kent was such a nice guy. If he wasn’t a gorgeous retired professional footballer, you’d have wanted him to ask you out ages ago. Or hell, you’d do it yourself. He was better with Bev than her own dad sometimes.

“That would be great,” you managed to choke out as you got started with Sam. “Bee?”

Beverly was already out of her seat, taking Roy’s hand in hers, book forgotten on her chair. “Can I really go out on the pitch?” she asked Roy, eyes glittering with excitement.

“Fuck yeah,” Roy assured her as he led her to the door. “You can even yell at Jamie Tartt if you want.”

As the pair passed by on their way out, you shook your head at Roy, smiling. “Thank you,” you mouthed.

With his free hand, he gently touched the small of your back. You wondered if he could feel you shiver in response. “Anytime,” he whispered in your ear. He turned his attention back to Beverly. “Let’s grab you a hot chocolate first, alright?”

After a morning of work, you made your way to the coaches’ office, where Beverly was sitting at Roy’s desk, drawing a picture while Roy talked with Nate and Beard. He lit up when he saw you.

“Ready for lunch?” he asked in place of a greeting.

“Sure.” You walked over to Bev and looked over her shoulder at her artwork. It was a drawing of her and Roy on the football pitch. You ruffled her hair, taking note of the whistle she wore around her neck. “Bee, did you thank the coaches for letting you hang out this morning?”

She jumped out of Roy’s seat and approached each coach, giving them a hug in turn. “Thank you, Mister Beard. Thank you, Mister Nate.” She gazed up at Roy with adoration on her little face. “Thank you, Mister Roy.” Instead of a hug, she offered him her drawing. “This is for you. For being so nice to me today.”

He blinked rapidly as he took the picture. “This is fucking great. Thanks.” Immediately, he went and pinned it on the corkboard behind his desk, where there were already several pictures made by Phoebe hanging up. He looked at you as the other coaches made themselves look busy. “Called my sister. Phoebe’s at my mum’s, said Bev’s more than welcome to hang out there this afternoon. And I can drive her home when I pick up Pheebs. She can go over tomorrow, too.”

“Oh my God, thank you.” Without thinking, you threw your arms around Roy’s neck, pulling him into a hug.

After his brain stopped malfunctioning at your touch, he let his arms wrap around your waist, returning the embrace. Over your shoulder, he could see Beard eying the two of you with raised eyebrows and offering him a cartoonish thumbs-up while Nate watched with a wistful smile. Despite Roy never saying a word, the other coaches were painfully aware of his crush on you.

Once Roy recovered from the joy of being hugged by you, he drove you and Beverly to a nearby chip shop, where he insisted on treating the two of you.

“Come on, Roy,” you pleaded as he shoved your hand away from the credit card machine. “It’s the least I can do after you helped with Bev.”

He shook his head. “Fuck no. My mum would kill me if I let a woman pay for a meal that I invited her to.” He offered you a smile as the machine read his card. “When you invite me to lunch, I’ll let you pay. Deal?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Did that mean he wanted you to ask him to grab lunch sometime? “Fine. Next one’s on me,” you conceded, hoping you didn’t sound too excited at the thought.

As the three of you sat at an outside table and ate your lunch, you couldn’t keep your eyes off Roy. The way he looked Beverly in the eye when she spoke to him and gave her his full attention wasn’t something you were used to seeing. You didn’t date too much, and you very, very rarely introduced men to your daughter. On the couple of occasions where she did meet the guy you were dating, it was never like this. Sure, they were polite and nice to her, but you could tell it was only because they were trying to make a good impression on you. None of those men stuck around much longer after meeting your daughter. And you didn’t really want them to.

But Roy was so genuine. He asked her questions and was fully invested in what she told him, and he even let her steal some of his chips after she’d finished her own. You know most of this came from his own experience as Phoebe’s devoted uncle, but you knew it was also because he was just a genuinely kind person under his gruff surface. And it only made your silly little crush grow.

As the three of you climbed back into Roy’s giant car after lunch, Roy showed you a text he’d just gotten on his mobile. “From my sister.”

Does Bev want to sleep over? I can take them both to mum’s in the morning.

“Oh, that would be great,” you said. You turned around in your seat. “Bee, d’you want to sleep over with Phoebe tonight?”

The squealing coming from the backseat gave you your answer.

By the time you arrived at Roy’s mum’s house, Beverly was so excited she barely looked at you as she leaped out of the car and sprinted to the door, where a bouncing Phoebe waited for her. You and Roy followed and said quick hellos to his mother. You gave Beverly a goodbye hug and kiss, thanked Roy’s mum, and followed Roy back to the car.

Roy opened your door for you before climbing in on his side. The short ride back to Nelson Road was much quieter without an eight-year-old chattering away in the back seat.

“Thanks again,” you finally said. “I really appreciate you helping out.”

He shook his head. “Don’t mention it. Figure this way you can focus on work, and Bev can hang with Pheebs.” His fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “Plus, now you’ve got a free evening.” He glanced sideways at you. “Got any plans?”

You shrugged, wringing your hands a bit at the interest in his voice. “Probably just take myself out to dinner. Don’t usually get to do that during the week.”

Roy nodded. “Don’t suppose you’d want some company?”

Surely, you’d heard him wrong. “Company?” you echoed.

“Only if you want,” he quickly clarified. “I know alone time’s important; my sister really likes relaxing with a glass of wine by herself, but I mean…” He shrugged, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “Might be nice. Sharing a meal together that doesn’t come in a Styrofoam box.”

“Are you going to let me pay for this one? Since I let you pay for lunch?”

A snort flew out of his nose as he pulled into his spot in the parking lot. “Fuck no. I never let a woman pay for a first date.” He offered you a small smile as the two of you climbed out of his car and met behind it. “Pick you up at six?”

In spite of your racing heart, you folded your arms coolly, returning his grin. “Sounds good. Just anything but fish and chips.”

The sound of his laughter made your heart dance. “Deal.”

#request ❤️#he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fanfiction #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfiction

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katsu28 · 8 months

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roy kent coming to visit you in your office with coffee at the club one day of the week and then the next day you’re down at the managers office with lunch for him !! basically just cute lil office dates with him

that is so damn cute oh my god

it started with bringing coffee down to him one day when you knew he was a little more tired than usual and you thought he would just accept the bev and go but then he's just like maybe you could...stay? and ofc you wanna spend time with your boyfriend so you park your butt on his desk, legs swinging as you chat with him until he has to head back to the pitch. and then somehow it becomes an everyday thing that you both look forward to!

sometimes you get takeaway from new restaurants around nelson road to eat and chat with each other until one of you has to get back to your respective offices, sometimes you make roy try different drinks other than his usual black coffee (he'll never admit it but he is a sucker for a mocha frappuccino).

omg and sometimes when you're both too busy for an office date you'll come back from a meeting or he'll come back from training to find a little treat on each other's desk from the other person!

#answered!#sweet anon <3 #roy kent x reader #i want office dates with roy kent :(

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writeforfandoms · 1 year

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Homeward Bound

Find my other fandoms masterlist

In which Kent is given a retirement in an alternate universe with no superheroes.

Warnings: Swearing, brief mention of canon violence, ridiculous fluff.

Word count: 2.3k

Kent Nelson x f!reader

Bonus to anybody who gets the reference at the end of the fic!

Kent got one last look at Carter, watching his dearest friend’s expression morph from grief to rage. The pain in his body was a distant thing now. He'd accepted his fate.

Kent closed his eyes, exhaling one last time.

Kent opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling above him, painted a blue so light it was almost white. He blinked.

This… was not what he had expected.

Sitting up was easy, and he spent a moment looking around the room. It was clean, with few personal affects around. Some art on the walls. Done up all in shades of blue.

Kent reached for magic, to check what the hell was going on, and found nothing. His eyes shot open wide and he tried again. Same results.

He had no idea where he was, couldn't access his magic, and his last memories were of being killed by Sabbac. Nothing made sense. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, retreating to the space inside himself where his connection to the helmet lay.

There was no connection, not anymore. But he did find… an understanding, of sorts. A message, more or less, left for him.

This was his reward for his many years of service. This man, this world, was an alternate to his own. This Kent was younger than he was, and had been dying of some disease.

So Kent had been granted his place. A second chance at life, at peace, after his decades of work.

Kent honestly wasn't sure what to think of this. But this was apparently to be his life, so he might as well get acquainted with it.

The Kent of this world was an architect, well to do, with no real attachments. He'd been married and divorced, with two grown sons who had lives of their own and didn't keep much in contact with him.

Honestly, Kent wasn't sure if he preferred that over his own mostly solitary existence. But this is what he had now.

It didn't take him long to adjust and fall into a routine. He worked from home as he liked, set his own hours, accepted his own jobs. (Fortunately, the technical knowledge of this world had integrated into his memories, allowing him to actually know what he was doing.)

This world had no heroes, no magic, no powers. Which had perhaps been the hardest thing to adapt to. Fortunately, the major historical events were the same. But a world without heroes was odd, and a little unnerving if Kent was being honest.

So he adapted as best he could. He didn't have to worry about money or work. In fact, his biggest concern in this world was boredom.

And wasn't that simply a terrible problem to have?

Kent took to varying his routine, trying all the coffee shops along his route until he found the one he liked best. He altered his schedule to spend a bit of time there, people watching at first.

Some things, he discovered, truly were universal, including a love of coffee. In many regards, this world was not so different from his own. People had their lives, drank coffee, had their own concerns. Some were rude, some polite. It was comforting, really, the familiarity of humanity.

For a while, Kent was content to linger along the edges, visiting the same coffee shop often enough to develop a habit. He learned the names of all the employees who worked mornings. He learned some about many of the regular customers, as well.

And then he bumped into someone as he was attempting to step away from a crowd. His front collided with your shoulder, knocking both of you a little off balance, and he lifted one hand automatically to help steady you.

"Sorry," you murmured, gaze flitting to his and then away again.

"No problem," he said with a little smile. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." You smiled in return, and Kent felt something stir in his chest. You adjusted the bag over your shoulder, other hand holding your own beverage close to your chest.

"Doing some work?" He asked, nodding to the bag. Normally he would have left it alone, but… he found he didn't want to step away just yet.

You smiled a little. "Yeah. Nothing too exciting. You?"

He chuckled. "Just getting a drink on my way to work," he murmured. "I'll be stuck in the office most of the day."

You made a face, humor in your eyes. "Ah yes, I know the feeling. Well, I hope it all goes well for you."

"Thank you." Kent nodded to you, watching as you moved to the back of the cafe to sit at a table. He only shook himself when he heard his name being called, and he took his drink before continuing on to the office.

He figured that was likely the end of it. He doubted he would see you again.

But he did. For the next three mornings, he spotted you at the cafe. In line, or at a table, or once walking to the counter to get more cream.

And he found himself curious. What were you working on? What work did you do that could so easily be done here?

But he didn't approach. Not yet. He didn't want to be creepy, or inappropriate. It was with no small surprise that he found himself uncertain of his own social skills.

In fact, he likely wouldn't have approached you. Except that you approached him one afternoon. Sick of the office and homesick and heart heavy, Kent made his way to the coffee shop and ordered a drink, and then found a table at the window to sit and stare outside.

This world was just so… different. Not all good, not all bad, but different. And some days the differences crushed him, wore him down. To the point that he wondered if this truly was a reward… or a subtle punishment.

"Excuse me?" The soft voice jolted him out of his own thoughts, and he blinked up at you. "I think you dropped this." With a kind smile, you held out a little notebook, one he used to scribble absent thoughts and notes in.

"Oh." He blinked, hand raising to take the notebook almost without thought. His fingers brushed over yours and he swallowed at the feeling, a little jolt to his system. "Thank you, I would have missed this dearly."

"It's no problem." Your smile widened. "I know I'd miss my notebook if I managed to drop it anywhere."

Kent smiled, taking in the sight of you. You had your laptop tucked under one arm, that hand also clutching your drink. "Would you care to join me for a while?" He motioned to the seat across from him.

You blinked and then nodded. "Thanks." You dropped into the chair, setting your things down. "Penny for your thoughts?"

He almost laughed. Almost. “Just thinking about life.”

Your smile turned playful. “Life, the universe, and everything?”

He did laugh then, quietly. “Not quite so lofty as that, although interstellar travel would be fascinating.”

“Do you ever wonder about that?” At his raised eyebrow, you elaborated. “Life beyond this planet?”

“Not often.” He smiled a little to himself. Less now, in this universe, certainly. “I imagine we are far from alone in the universe. It is a vast place, after all.”

“I can never decide if that’s comforting or terrifying.”

“A blend of both perhaps.”

You smiled. “Perhaps so.”

He motioned to your notebook. “Do you ever jot those thoughts down?”

“Not often.” You made a face, wry and a little unsure. “I don’t venture into sci-fi much. Fantasy is more my style.”

“Oh?” Kent leaned forward a little.

“Well. Sort of fantasy. Urban fantasy.” You ducked your head, chewing your bottom lip for a few moments. “I write superhero stories.”

Kent didn’t waver, even at the pang that shot through him, a fist around his heart. “What made you decide to write about that?” he asked, curious despite the pain.

“I mean… they’re fascinating. A lot of them are physically so much better than a regular human, however that manifests. But they’re still people. They still have the same problems and they still have moral dilemmas and they still have their own issues to deal with.” Your smile was a little shy.

“Very valid points,” Kent agreed with a small smile. “And regular people are every bit as capable of acts of heroism, too.”

“Yes! It’s a wonderful way to explore humanity.” You perked up visibly at his interest. “It’s a lot of fun having the characters interact and showing how they inspire regular people, too. I like to write about hope, I guess.”

His smile softened. “An admirable attitude,” he murmured. “Everyone needs a little hope.”

You nodded, relaxing at his acceptance. “Do you read a lot of this kind of thing?”

He grinned and ducked his head a little. You had no way of knowing the cause of his amusement, of course, but he couldn’t help himself. “Not so much,” he said, a little cautious. “When I was a boy, I did. But I haven’t found time to read much for pleasure in the last several years.” Looking at you, he smiled. “Something I find the sudden urge to change.”

Your lips parted as you blinked at him, flustered. Then you smiled, shy but pleased, and ducked your head.

Chuckling quietly, Kent pulled out his phone to make a note. “Is there an order they should be read in?”

“Um, yeah, most of them are chronological, and there are a few side stories,” you admitted. “The first book is Tales of the Sky.”

Kent added that to his note and nodded, setting his phone down. “Good.”

“I hope I’m not, y’know, pressuring you to look, or anything…” You looked a little nervous, fingers drumming against the table.

“Not at all.” Kent leaned forward a little, holding your gaze easily. “My curiosity is entirely my own.”

Your smile was wide and pleased, and Kent felt it like a punch to the chest. “Well, let me know what you think. Unless you hate them. Then don’t tell me.”

“I highly doubt I will think poorly of them.” Kent leaned back again slowly, his heart thumping hard against his chest. “Although I hope you’re prepared to discuss the nature of humanity.”

Your eyes gleamed at the soft challenge, your lips parting to show teeth. “Always.”

And that was all it took. Kent gave you his number after that, and the two of you were quick to take up chatting every day. Sometimes it was just an exchange of texts. Some days you met at the coffee shop. Some days you even had an actual phone call. (Kent was grateful that you didn’t seem terribly inclined to pull memes into conversation every day - he’d never bothered keeping up with the ones in his own universe, let alone an entirely different universe’s set. He shuddered at the thought of even attempting to understand them.)

Topics of conversation ranged greatly, from superheroes and books to astronomy and life elsewhere in the universe to economics (mostly complaining about rent prices on your end) to hopes for the future. That conversation had given Kent a jolt as he realized he actually had hopes for the future, now. No more knowing. No more fate.

It was both freeing and terrifying, in its own way.

You were the one to ask Kent on your first date, a few weeks later. Kent agreed, feeling a sort of anxious excitement he hadn’t felt in… decades.

But it was easy. So easy. Being with you, talking to you, bantering back and forth was perhaps the easiest thing about this universe, and Kent treasured every moment of it.

And perhaps he did move fast, but he was well aware of the uncertain nature of life, of how quickly time could slip through his fingers.

So it was only a year after the two of you met that he asked you to move in. He had the pleasure of watching you walk into his apartment for the first time, surveying the space with both awe and hope.

“If I move in,” you started, softly emphasizing the “if”, “do you mind if I change a few things?”

Kent motioned expansively to the apartment. “Please, feel free. I want you to be at home here.” With him.

You smiled, catching what he didn’t say, and slipped your hand in his. “How about a little trial period? I’ll come stay for a week, we’ll see how it goes.”

“Perfect.” He kissed you, soft and sweet, the bubbling in his chest intoxicating.

You brought some things for a week… and never left. Kent arranged for your things to be brought over, ignoring your mutterings about expenses and that you two could do it. He had the money, and it pleased him to treat you.

Plus, you became adorably flustered when he told you as much.

Sitting on the couch with you one night, his hand absently rubbing back and forth across your shoulder as you cuddled into him, Kent could suddenly clearly see how this would go.

You would stay. You two would marry, a very quiet ceremony that ensured your future was well taken care of. Kent would continue to spoil you in little ways. You would have all the time you needed to write. And the two of you would live, mostly happy, to the end of your days.

Kent smiled and closed his eyes. That was the last of it, the last of the magic. And he was, finally, perfectly at peace with that.

#kent nelson x reader #f!reader

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ljaesch · 10 months

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English Cast Announced for the AYAKA Anime

The English cast has been announced for the AYAKA anime: Main cast: Dallas Reid is Yukito Landon McDonald is Jingi Oscar Seung is Kurama Alex Hom is Ibuki Supporting cast: Corey Wilder is Chataro Hayden Daviau is Ibara Kent Williams is Inou Lexi Nieto is Jingi (Young) Brianna Roberts is Momoko Brianna Roberts is Yako Marcus Stimac is Yanagi Bev Mageto is Yukito (Young) Additional…

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#anime #AYAKA

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hdfhdfrhy · 1 month

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angelayan183 · 1 year

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#IFTTT #YouTube

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caitimetravels · 3 years

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who i will write for :)

hi!! this is a rough list of characters.

the maze runner

thomas

newt

minho

gally

teresa

brenda

sonya

aris

the maze runner cast (platonic!!)

dylan obrien

thomas brodie sangster

kihong lee

kaya scodelario

will poulter

the umbrella academy

five

klaus

diego

allison

ben

luther

vanya

lila

stranger things

mike wheeler

eleven (jane hopper)

max mayfield

lucas sinclair

dustin henderson

will byers

jonathon byers

nancy wheeler

steve harrington

robin buckley

billy hargrove

+more!

stranger things cast (platonic!!)

finn wolfhard

millie bobby brown

sadie sink

caleb mclaughlin

gaten matarazzo

noah schnapp

charlie heaton

natalia dyer

joe keery

maya hawke

dacre montgomery

shadow and bone

kaz

inej

jesper

nina

matthias

alina

mal

+more!

criminal minds

anyone

i couldn’t be bothered to write them all 🤷‍♀️

scream (1-4)

basically all characters

it 2017

richie

eddie

bill

stan

bev

mike

ben

big hero 6

tadashi

hiro

honey lemon

wasabi

gogo

fred

miraculous ladybug

marinette

adrien

luka

nino

alya

rose

juleka

alix

nathaniel

how to train your dragon

hiccup

astrid

snotlout

ruffnut

tuffnut

fishlegs

harry potter

marauders era

james potter

sirius black

remus lupin

lily evans

regulus black

marlene mckinnon

dorcas meadowes

mary mcdonald

+more!

golden trio

harry potter

ron weasley

hermione granger

ginny weasley

fred weasley

george weasley

draco malfoy

luna lovegood

neville longbottom

dean thomas

seamus finnigan

+more!

next gen

teddy lupin

james potter II

albus potter

rose weasley

hugo weasley

louis weasley

victorie weasley

dominique weasley

+more!

other harry potter characters

newt scammander

divergent

eric

four

tris

caleb

peter

uriah

will

christina

the hunger games

katniss

peeta

gale

finnick

narnia

peter

edmund

susan

caspian

once upon a time

emma

hook

regina

belle

baelfire

robin

peter pan

felix

henry

marvel

loki

thor

tony stark

steve rogers

peter parker

clint barton

sam wilson

bucky barnes

natasha romanoff

wanda maximoff

pietro maximoff

bruce banner

t'challa

gamora

carol danvers

peter quill

scott lang

shuri

valkyrie

vision

+more!

marvel cast (platonic!!)

robert downey jr

chris evans

chris hemsworth

chris pratt

tom hiddleston

sebastian stan

anthony mackie

tom holland

scarlett johansson

mark ruffalo

benedict cumberbatch

paul rudd

paul bettany

brie larson

elizabeth olsen

jeremy renner

jason todd

tim drake

damian wayne

dick grayson

wally west

cassandra cain

barbara gordon

stephanie brown

duke thomas

bruce wayne

clark kent

conner kent (kon-el)

pirates of the caribbean

jack sparrow

elizabeth swann

will turner

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xgryffinwhore · 3 years

Note

can you do something with bev🥺 like it can be literally anything - it’s just so hard to find stuff on her

I KNOW RIGHT!!! bev content is lackingg!! don’t worry, i got you

the right words to say

warnings: bev x fem reader!!! soft fluffiness heh. and smoking. aaaand language.

word count: 1.2k

her fiery locks bounced short on her head as she road fleeing sherman lane. her crew socks and worn out reebok’s peddling her rusty bike down the slope of the asphalt. lose floral sundress flying back from her sped, the cuts and scars on her legs exposed. some fresh, from your recent adventures.

she is your best friend, always will be. ever since you two met each other, your souls intertwined. she’s cool, cooler than anyone you’ve ever met. she’s stubborn, can be such a prick sometimes. but she’s beautiful, in a friend sort of way. yeah, just in a friend way. right?

to be honest you had no idea. sure, you were in highschool, you had boyfriends and you liked your boyfriends. but your boyfriends didn’t act like bev, they didn’t speak like bev, and they sure and hell didn’t smell like her(like the perfume she stole from the mall; citrusy with a touch of musk.

it was just a girl thing though, it was normal to think your friends were pretty and shit. everything you were feeling is NORMAL. it’s normal to blush when you think of your friends, it’s normal to stare at them when they’re not looking, and it’s normal to imagine their lips on yours so soft an-

“l/n” bev mused “you seriously need to go to bed earlier, it’s like i’m pulling you down from jupiter.” you shook your head and looked back at bev, her break stand on the gravel and her foot dangling from the bike seat where she perched.

“sorry marsh, i’m good now” you threw your bike on the ground and began walking with her toward the quarry. the water was a deep turquoise today, matching your bra you used for a bathing suit.

you both stripped eagerly, the summer sun making your skin hot to the touch. she wore a white bra and pantie set, with little pink polka dots. “nice lingerie” she joked, pointing at your black underwear with a small duck on them. “shut it bev.”

you held yourself hand out in an invitation to hers, you always held hands and jumped in together. her hand clasped yours, it was rough and calloused from the days she spent climbing up trees to get away from henry and gretta. before you had time to think bev had jumped, her weight pulling you with her.

the water always felt the same, frigid. it was refreshing on the days that you couldn’t walk on the asphalt barefoot without burning the soles of your feet.

beverley’s head popped up shortly after yours, she slicked her amber locks back and inhaled deeply. your bodies floated on the stagnant water, for a while actually, it was so peaceful.

your bodies migrated to the shallow part of the quarry, a little place you and her called ‘pebble palace.’ she handed you a opaque stone “pebble for your thoughts” she always did that. you took the pebble and rubbed it in between your index finger and thumb. “dont really have any right now” you breathed, your mind crowded with every thought imaginable.

“well i have one” she stole the stone back from you, “scared for highschool to start back up, if ‘m bein honest” she skipped the stone into the water, that’s what you two did. after a pebble-thought has shared, you had to throw the pebble back into the water.

school was closer then you’d like to admit, a week left of days like this. you picked up a pebble and threw it in the water, “still get to see you though, so i’m not too bummed.” she smiled like the always did, “yeah, it’s that aspect isn’t as sucky”

she laid back on one of the rocks, she usually naps around this time after we are done swimming. the sun captured her perfectly, her freckles looked like constellations and her limbs were loose and relaxed. she was alluring.

her nap was short lived, the sun was hot, you both mutually agreed to go back into the water. she splashed you "so, you still talking to kent?" she asked, you looked down and smiled "nah, too boring." you both splashed each other and she prodded "but why not? too pretty to be riding solo"

that made you blush under your sun burnt skin, she took noticed and continued "probably the most gorgeous girl in this town" she traced her fingers along your jaw "soft on the eyes" she slurred.

you stood there idle, why was she doing this to you?

"such pretty hair" with her other hand she rain her fingers through your damp ends "and eyes" she titled up your head to make eye contact with her. she was close now, you could smell the lilac candies on her breathe. you both subconsciously gravitated closer to each other, you lips almost brushing. your breath became audible, the tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

you turned around and regulated your air flow. "what the fuck marsh" you cursed "what the fuck is happening?" you carded your locks through your fingers, your world running in circles around you. "im sorry y/n- i thought you liked it!" she sloshed her legs through the water to be face-to-face to you once again.

"what are you trying to do to me?" your feeling welled up in the corners of your eyes and began to drip down your face. " y/n, i thought you and me and some -eh- chemistry?" your eyes went blank, homosexuality was a ew concept in the 80's. sure, men homosexuality was well known but female? barley heard of, basically only in porn (which you may or may not have watched.)

"bev- we cant be into each other" you laughed nervously "we are friends, we are GIRLS, we cant like each other." beverley's face dropped in disbelief "i see the way you look at me l/n, you cant fake that type of shit" you tried to stop her but she kept going:

"youre the only person who makes me feel something, youre the light of my life. youre not like anyone else, better than any stupid boy. youre everything y/n, everything."

your words stumbled together, you couldnt form a sentence if your life depended on it. "i- well thats so nice of you ca- i feel that som- well no that you r- like agree-" she hushed you with a kiss, fire works went off in your head. kissing a girl felt so much better then kissing a guy.

you spent the rest of the evening holding hands and walking around the forest 'no i thought you were so pretty' 'i think ive like you forever, swear to god!'

bev and you road back to your house, your curfew was soon. "so" bev started "ive been dropping hints for like- ever- why didnt you stay anything?"

you bit your lip in contemplation; you were never really good with phrasing things. "i guess i was just looking for the right words to say" you bashed. "and that is" bev leaned in "i love you" you whispered, she answered by kissing you one last time before the sun fell behind the horizon.

#beverly marsh #Beverly Marsh fluff #bev marsh #it fic #it can fic #Sophia Lillie #Sophia lillis fic #Beverley marsh #beverly marsh imagine #beverley marsh imagine #fluff #Sophia lillis imagine #it fluff #it fanfiction #it chap 2 #it chapter two #it movie

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renefabre · 3 years

Photo

It’s a Flashback Friday kind of evening. I’m enjoying a good cheap glass of red wine, saluting family and Keith & Bev, my fellow Seniors of Adventure! I’m looking over 2015 photos and reminiscing about our wonderful adventure to attend grandson Jake & Hailey’s wedding in Joplin, MO. Here’s just a few landscape pics from August 20, 2015, we’re headed home from Wichita, KS. It’s been an amazing trip and I’d love to do it again. The entire roundtrip was from Kent, Washington to Branson, Missouri and back.

PICS...

1. Wilson, Kansas, 2. Between Stratton & Verona Colorado, 3. Flagler Colorado, and 4. Fort Collins pitstop to pickup supplies before we stay the night at the KOA campground.

Yep, its a 1996 Dodge RAM 2500, 4 on the floor long throw with trailer.

#roadtrip #ontheroad #family #weddings #kids #seniors of adventure #grandkids #truck and trailor #midwest vibes #nevertooold #flashbackfriday

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warpriest-writings · 3 years

Text

Superman fanfic update.

Clark shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Two jobs in not even three months, he mentally kicked himself.

His file was being looked over thoroughly for the third time by the unemployment office lady, Mrs. Kowalski. “So, construction fell through, Mr. Kent.”

“I'm sorry.” he rubbed his thumbs together apprehensively.

“Mmhmmm, don't be sorry to me, Mr. Kent.” she said. “Shame, after telling me about how you and your father rebuilt the family barn after that tornado incident I thought you might like construction work.”

“It was going well, it's just…” he paused.

“You started showing up later and later, then not at all.” she finished.

He winced, there was no way he could tell her what he was really up to instead of making it to work on time.

“What's the matter, Mr. Kent? If there is something going on, issues, we have programs and departments to help people like you onto their feet.”

He shrugged, definitely more than a little frustrated at himself, “I, I'm not sure what to tell you?” he sighed.

“Well, we have your file open. If a factory position opens up this office will send you a call. The number on file is still up to date, yes?”

“Ye, yeah,” he looked over the paper she was showing him, “that's my number still.”

She nodded, “This is the third time I've seen you here in three months, Clark, if you want a minute of real advice. Go to college, there are loans and government grants, all sorts of stuff you could apply for. You're not lazy, and I know your not a dumb boy. I've looked over your files three times now and I know you graduated with an almost perfect grade point average, and that you volunteered with your mother since you were thirteen years old. You don't need another job you'll get bored off in two weeks, you need a career that engages you. Give it a thought, Clark.”

Mrs. Kowalski printed off several pages and stapled them. She set them next to his I.D and social in front of him.

Clark looked at the papers wide eyes, “I will...think about it, I mean. I'll think about it. Thank you.”

“You're welcome, Mr. Kent. Now, unless you have any other questions I think we are done here for today.”

“No, I think I'm good for now.”

“Have a nice day, Mr. Clark.”

With a nod, he smiled, “You too, Mrs. Kowalski.” With that the Farmer's son from Smallville grabbed his info and also the papers she printed out for him.

He left the office and out of the Metropolis government center, pausing to hold the door for an older man with a cane. “Why, thank you.”

“You're welcome.” he replied and started walking, wondering how he was going to eat tonight.

If I find seventy five cents I can buy a can of ravioli from the gas station. If I find a dollar fifty then I could also get a cup of coffee.

A career that engages me...Clark's thoughts raced, and kept returning to what the lady at the unemployment office told him. He gripped the papers in his hand tightly, maybe it was time to start looking into college. See what his financial aid options were-why was his shirt wet?

A lady gasped, "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!"

Clark snapped out of his thoughts, "Hmm?" Hot coffee was just spilt over his shirt and he pulled the material away from his skin, "Oh! It's alright, if isn't that hot." He reassured.

The concerned woman suddenly raised her eyebrow skeptically, "That was a fresh latte."

"Yeah, well, lots of layers." Clark said, "Cold weather."

She looked at him with a puzzled look, "Wait…." Her eyes widened, "Smallville?"

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" He asked

"Chloe Sullivan's birthday parties." She replied, "Your creepy friend tried to get a game of seven minutes in heaven going and my dad flexed on him."

Clark suddenly recognized her, "Lois, General Lane's daughter."

She laughed, "Just go by Lois Lane these days, never liked that stipulation."

He nodded, "Of course, Lois. How have you been?"

"Fine, at least until I walked into a brick wall, jesus, Smallville," she looked up at him, "What are they putting into the wheaties they feed you on that farm?"

Clark awkwardly cleared his throat, "Well, hard farm work, builds you up."

"Apparently." She said, "So, you're sure I didn't burn you?"

"I'm sure." He reassured her.

Lois sighed in relief, "Well, that's good, Smallville. What are you doing in Metropolis anyway?"

"Oh, well…" Clark paused, dwelling momentarily on uncomfortable memories, "I just needed a change. Some personal discovery stuff."

"Uh huh, hey I need to get another coffee, and you look like you could use one too. Come on, Kent."

Clark protested, "No, really. It's fine."

"I wasn't asking, Smallville. My treat." Lois said with effortless determination, she left no room for discussion and Clark haplessly followed along.

"Sundollar?"

"Yeah, no one wanted a latte from Lexbucks, go figure." Lois said strolling in.

"Lane!" The Barista said, "I thought you said you were cutting back on the caffeine."

"Cut back a little too much this morning, Bev. I, err, dropped my coffee." She said, standing next to the man in a wet shirt, smelling like a sundae was dropped in an espresso.

Bev nodded along, "And for Captain America?"

Lois glanced to him, expectantly.

Clark stood there a moment in silence before awkwardly exclaiming, "Oh! Black, please. Morning blend...if you have it."

#superman #fanfiction #dc comics fanfic

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punkrockhistory · 4 years

Photo

The Avengers, Penelope Houston and Brad Kent, Vancouver, May 1979. Photo by Bev Davies. #punk #punks #punkrock #oldschoolpunk #hardcorepunk #penelopehouston #bradkent #theavengers #history #punkrockhistory https://www.instagram.com/p/CFlcBINorxc/?igshid=zxieu0gnbppu

#punk #punks #punkrock #oldschoolpunk #hardcorepunk #penelopehouston #bradkent #theavengers #history #punkrockhistory

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imagineitup · 5 years

Text

all the things i think you should know : richie tozier x reader

a/n : i watched it chapter one for the first time this weekend and i thought i would write something for the film b/c i loved it sm

also i would love to hear feedback x

warning : language, sad!reader

song to listen to : pretty by ingrid michaelson

- -

The lamplight glows through the curtains, and you lay up and look at the ceiling, fingers a hair-breadth away from Richie’s.

“You’ll think it’s stupid,” you say, your voice much stronger than you’ve intended. “Really. It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Richie says, turning his head to look at you. His curls splay against the carpet, and his eyes magnify even larger in his glasses. “That’s complete bullshit. It’s not nothing.”

“C’mon Rich,” you groan, “don’t you want to like, read comics or something? Play a game?” You pout at him, staring at him with overly exaggerated innocence. Your ‘puppy-dog’ eyes.

Richie rolls his own eyes, turning to you with an expression that you’ve come to know very well. Fucking out with it, already.

But what he says is entirely different than what you’re expecting. “It’s not about what Bowers said two weeks ago, is it?”

You stiffen. “Course not. He’s full of shit.”

“Well, duh,” Richie says, a proud sort of smile tugging at his lips. But then he shrugs, turning solemn. “But still. You don’t believe it, do you?”

“Believe what?” Your voice comes out in a whisper, and somehow you’re suddenly too aware of the blood rushing through your ears, and the way you’re almost too afraid to breathe. Almost like one wrong step could make everything tumble and crash into pieces.

“Believe what that asshole said,” Richie scowls, shifting as his fingers clench around the carpet fiber. “That no one would care if you, you know,” he struggles to say it, “died. Went missing.”

You swallow. It’s become only too apparent that maybe things were getting out of hand. Sometimes the sadness was worse, sometimes the numbness was a little worse, especially now that it was summer, and the Losers were all doing their own things.

Apparently it’s all Richie needs. “That fucking asshole.”

“Richie,” you say, your hand reaching out to touch his wrist, “Rich --”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Richie says fiercely, his voice angry, and loud, and furious. “I’m gonna punch that fuck face right where it hurts so he won’t ever come near you again.”

You sit up, suddenly. “Richie. No.”

Richie looks at you, his anger reflected in his glasses and somehow all you can think of is red, red, red. Red like the printed flowers on his shirt, red like the cut on his cheek, red like your heart beating, beating, beating. “And why not?”

“I’m over it. And honestly, you should be, too.”

“No!” Richie sits up, too, and his glasses are skewed from the motion, and he’s too angry to fix them. “No, you’re not over it. And he can’t say shitty things like that,” he hisses, “that son of a bitch.”

“Look,” you say, feigning exasperation, “I don’t get why you’re so upset.”

Beat.

Richie stares at you with wide eyes, his lips parted. His anger fades away, and despite being relieved, his silence is so much worse than his fury. Suddenly you want the angry Richie back, not the Richie who looks at you like this, like somehow you’re his whole world and he’s watching you slowly succumb to darkness.

“I mean,” you shrug, looking at your feet,“he’s said much worse. He’s done much worse to you, Bill, and Mike. I’m not even hurt.” You motion to the cut raging red across his cheek. “Like, how the hell did you even get that?”

“(Y/N),” Richie whispers.

You frown at him. “What?”

“But you were crying.”

You sigh, groaning and turning away from Richie. “No, I wasn’t.”

“You so were.”

“I told you it was nothing.”

“You’re never ‘here’ when we come to get you,” Richie says, holding up one finger. And then another. “You don’t answer any of our calls. And when I finally went to go look for you yesterday, you were sitting on your swing.”

“So what?”

“So what?” Richie repeats incredulously, his voice coming close to a shout, “I’ve never seen you that sad before.”

And that’s when it happens. When you swear you can feel everything start shifting, rearranging in your mind. He fucking knows.

“Everyone gets sad sometimes.”

“Sure everyone gets sad.” Richie shakes his head. “But not like that.” He fiddles with his fingers, “it was like, it was like --”

“Like what?” Your voice comes out softly, and you find that you’re unable to look Richie in the eyes for too long.

“I know I,” Richie starts, and when you look back at him, it looks like he’s physically pained. “I know you all call me Trashmouth, and whatever, but I, I care. I care, you know. If you want to talk.”

“Oh.”

“(Y/N) --”

You blink, shutting your eyes. “I’m just lonely, Richie. Really, really lonely.”

“Lonely?” The confusion is obvious on his face. “But --”

“Yeah,” you say. “Told you it was stupid.”

“No,” Richie says impulsively, shaking his head furiously. “Nothing you say is stupid.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Well,” Richie says, daring to let a smirk tug at his lips, “Except maybe for that time you said New Kids on the Block was the best music group you’d ever heard of.”

“Oh my god,” you say.

“And then when you decided you were going to hold your breath underwater for like, a minute just so you wouldn’t have to hear my voice.”

“Well, that was resourceful at the time,” you say.

“Hah,” Richie laughs, jabbing his elbow in your side. “Okay, talk. Spill your secrets, Clark Kent. What’s up?”

You open your mouth, only to have Richie’s hand fly over your lips. “And don’t say nothing, or else I get all the raspberry popsicles in your fridge for a month.” He waggles his eyebrows at you. “And your first-born child,” he says, in a terrible imitation of Rumpelstiltskin, which makes absolutely no sense.

You glare at him, and he removes his hand. But then you sigh, leaning back against the wall. “You guys don't really care about me,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant and almost succeeding. “Which is fine. It’s always been like that. I mean, hell, if I hadn’t been getting pushed around by Bowers you all wouldn’t have given a shit.”

“Woah,” Riche says, and he looks taken back. “Woah, what?”

“I said,” you say, almost getting angry, “you don’t give a shit.”

Richie recoils, and the way he winces makes your heart shrink. “You really think that?”

You shrug, unable to say anything.

“You remember those cupcakes we had for your birthday?” Richie brings up, boldly.

You nod, bringing up your legs to your chest.

“Well, we’d all forgotten about your birthday except for Bev.” Richie flushes, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Sorry, that makes me sound like shit, but Bev stayed up all night making those cupcakes for you. I don’t think she would do that if she didn’t give a shit.”

You blink. “What?”

“Yeah, you want to know why Bill has that black eye?” Richie says again, voice louder. “Hockstetter was talking shit about you in the halls one day, and he stood up for you. Bill freaking Denbrough. The same Bill that won’t even speak up in class to talk about his favorite nerdy books.”

“I--”

“Ben started listening to that stupid band again, New Kids on the Block, because he knows you like it, too. He thinks you’re such a cool person, that he wants to listen to that fucking band because that way, maybe you’ll both be better friends.”

“He, what?”

“Stan and Mike were talking today about how they missed hanging out with you. They were saying that I’m intolerable because there’s no you anymore. Mike said you’re like sunshine, really mushy, but true. And Stan said he’d trade his favorite bird book for you to come back, so that I’d finally shut up about you.”

Richie was talking about you? What?

“And then there’s Eds,” Richie says, pulling something out of his pocket, “wanted me to give these to you. He’s an idiot, I told him you weren’t sick, but no one listens to ol’Richie,” Richie tosses you a bottle of apple scented hand sanitizer and a hastily scribbled, ‘get well soon,’ card. “He thought you had the flu. So he got you this cause he’s a germaphobe, and he misses you, too.”

“And I --” Richie breaks off suddenly. He bites his lip, fiddling with his glasses. The lamplight glows through the curtains, reflecting in a warm haze around the glass and magnifying his irises, and suddenly he’s breathing in, his hands trembling. “I’m in love with you. I’ve always been in love with you. So I give a shit, (Y/N). We all do.”

You stare at Richie, speechless.

“I just, I really miss you, okay?” He’s rambling now, fussing with his glasses and suddenly shrinking into himself. “Everything’s so less fun without you, and I won’t be a dick about it. I just really needed to tell you --”

You lean forward, wrapping your arms around him. “I missed you too, Richie.”

It surprises you how Richie melts in your arms, how he rests his head against your shoulder and how you can feel his limbs trembling, making your heart wrench. “I knew you liked me, too,” Richie says, attempting at a joke, “fucking knew it. The Losers all owe me two dollars.”

“I don’t like seeing you sad,” you counter. You bring up your hand to gently run your thumb against the scar stretching across his cheek. “That looks like it hurts.”

“Eh,” Richie says, his voice muffled, “it’s not that bad. I forgot about it, honestly.”

“You didn’t get this because of --”

“Please come back,” Richie whispers. “Please.”

“I’ll try,” you say.

Richie exhales, letting out a long breath of air. “Okay. Okay that’s good enough.”

“This is the nicest I’ve ever seen you,” you say. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Pfft,” Richie says, although it’s without any spite, without any of the usual Richieness. “The nerve.”

“Sorry for making you sad,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to.”

Richie shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“But I want to,” you say.

“Why?” Richie fires back, fighting with you. “No one else does.”

You stare at Richie for a moment, your eyes wide at the way he stubbornly refuses to meet your gaze, the way his shoulders raise almost as if he’s expecting rejection.

“Listen here, asshole,” you say, and Richie snorts, punching you lightly in the arm.

“Copyright,” Richie says snidely. “I could sue you.”

“We all worry about you. Wanna know why?”

“Why?” Richie repeats, insolently, like he’s a broken record and can only say the same thing over and over again.

“Well, first of all, I love you. I love you so much.” You grin, pressing a kiss to the edge of his scar. “Second of all,”

Richie stares at you, and the smile that stretches across his lips is the largest you’ve ever seen it. You don’t even think he’s listening to you anymore, but that doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore. Just you and him. And in this moment, it’s more than enough.

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier oneshot #richie tozier x you #richie tozier it chapter one #it chapter one imagine #richie tozier x y/n

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parf-fan · 4 years

Text

My nicknames for the Bacchs back at the start of the season

Queen Elizabeth I – I trust you shall shepherd your people well

Sir Henry Carey – dark!Kensington

the Lady Mayor Delores Anne Penburthy – The Eternal

William Cecil, lord Burghley – Spymaster

Sir Robert Dudley – a horse

Sylvia Forel – Head mercenary

Mistress Penelope Quickley – Penny Swift

Christopher “Kit” Marlowe – Writer’s-block buddy

Mary McBride – I say, you’re wearing Daughters of Ireland fabric!

Rose Hopfield – oh wait like in Titanic

Jack Tanningrove – yup, Titanic, I hate everything

Beverly “Bev” Tanningrove – Anger Issues

Yeoman Charles Kent – hold up a sec..... Kent?

Yeoman Bartholomew Wainwright – WAINwright i hate everything

Fan Liu – I’m your biggest fan!

“Bloody” Bonnie Buchanna – token Scott

Edward Mawson – You put up with A Lot

Captain James Thatch – Boytoy to the Lady Mayor

Captain Sheena Daley O'Connell – Green hat

Captain Ruth “The Blade” Gibson – Black hat

Captain Scarlett Seymour – Beatrix’s heir

Captain Eleanor Keetly – Blue hat

Gilda O'Sullivan – the Organizer

Keagan O'Sullivan – Ariel

Deklyn O'Sullivan – fam ur legs are scrawnier than Zach Minder’s r u okay

Alannah O'Sullivan – My changeling cousin

Sterling Maximilien Armstrong – MUSIC TRACK!!

Jeremiah Slight – *laughs in a decade of Faire accents*

William “Bill” Crimson – reverse Cadfael

Tucker Abbot – Cinnamon rogue

Amy Cooper – *sleep-deprived fist-bump*

William Shakespeare – young Will

Horace Tanningrove – Wine lad

John Hopfield – Beer fellow

Stella Hopfield – the Competent One

Sherry Tanningrove – Horny On Main

Gretchen Froman – Sausage Princess

Sheriff Jacob Perry – improv sheriff

Douglas Johnson – u have two surnames mate

Siobhán O'Sullivan – okay so it’s pronounced shih-VAHN

Sir William Pickering – a certain handsome noble in burgundy

Theresa Ratchet – ........Like Terry Pratchett?...

Eskarina Nutter – oh wait now I get your name

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quaranteend · 5 years

Text

Beverly Marsh Application

Mun Info: Name: Alex Age: 23 Pronouns: She/Her ABOUT THE MUSE: Name: Beverly Marsh Age: 20 Sex: Female Sexuality: Bisexual Height: 5’ 4” Location: Derry Faction: Derry Occupation: Survivalist: known for her skills in combat and strategy Brief History: After graduating from Derry high school, she went to Kent State to pursue an undergrad degree in fashion with the hopes of being a designer. It was just her luck that at the start of junior year, the world decided to end. She was home to pack up the last of her stuff, excited to officially move into her apartment in Ohio when the news about Hawkins broke. The zombies shortly followed, leaving Beverly trapped in the apartment with her father. It didn’t take long for the abuse to start up again but Beverly wouldn’t take it anymore, she decided to hatch a plot to kill her father. 5 or more Headcanons: - Whenever Bev goes on supply runs, she tries her best to find books. If she can’t find any books, she’ll settle for anything that has words on it. Who knew the end of the world was so boring? - Bev had always known how to knit and crochet, she’d been taught by her grandmother when she was a girl. She now uses those skills to make sweaters, mend jeans and make little dolls. They aren’t the best but she loves making them. She’d leave the dolls around town, hoping that maybe a little girl would find it and take it home. - Bev never grew out her hair after fighting It, deciding to keep it shoulder length. She felt like she was the maker of her destiny with shorter hair. - Bev tries to salvage anything she can find into a weapon. Between bats with nails in it, sharpened long staffs, and a shotgun, she’d considered herself pretty well-armed. She makes a point to train with each of these weapons daily (except for the shotgun). - Bev knows how to charm and manipulate people when she needs to. She knows how to take a stand but is sometimes reckless in her execution. After the death of her father, she’s decided that she’d rather die her way than be another victim. Roleplay example: “You’re my girl, Bev. Aren’t you? I guess you have no choice now.” Her father, Alvin, reminds her as she cooks them breakfast. His words are as cold as ice but there’s a satisfaction there, like a cat that’s finally caught a pesky mouse. Beverly had escaped him for two years, disappearing into the ivy-covered brick buildings of Kent University but she couldn’t outrun him during the end of the world. The very day she was supposed to drive back was the day of the outbreak. It had been a week since then and with each passing day, tensions continued to boil. They disagreed on how to survive hoards, how to ration food and on whether or not to make contact with other survivors. With each disagreement came another fight, a fight that would leave Beverly bloody and bruised. This morning Beverly had woken up on the bathroom floor with bruises along her neck from where he had choked her. She was alive for now but next time, she wouldn’t be so lucky. That’s when she put her plan into motion. She started by applying some red lipstick under her nose and eyes, rubbing them in to make her look red and sick. “Mhmm. Sorry, I don’t feel good.” She admitted, weakly as she served him his food. He examined her before wordlessly reached out, putting the back of his hand against her forehead. He pulled it back when he found it warm, which was thanks to a hot rag she’d put on earlier. “You are sick huh? Do you think you could make it on a run?” Beverly just shook her head, coughing. He frowned, shaking his head and running a hand through his thin grey hair. Beverly knew he was too much of a coward to go on a run without her. “What kind of medicine would mom give you when you were sick?” he asked reluctantly. “Mucinex. I think I saw some in Mr. Smithton’s apartment when I cleared it out the other day.” He nodded, finishing up his food and then gesturing her to get up. They each grabbed their sharpened staffs before leaving the apartment, heading one floor below. As they got to the door, he started rustling with the knob, trying to get it to unlock. As he was distracted, Beverly took his staff and set it on the floor behind her. When he finally got it unlocked, he pushed the door open and held a hand out to Bev, expecting her to hand him back his staff. “Beverly, where’s my staff? Beverly.” He asked, turning around to face her with a dead-serious expression on his face. That’s when she saw what remained of Mr. Smithton stumbling toward them. It was now or never. She gathered all of her courage and thrust the tip of her staff into her father’s chest. Her father stumbled forward, clutching his bleeding chest with arms reaching for her. “Get over here, you little bitch! You think you can get rid of me that easily! With a fucking stick!” He began to fume, his face beet red. In his fury, he didn’t even hear Mr. Smithton get closer until the zombie had descended on him and took a fleshy bite out of his neck. Blood sprayed in Beverly’s face but she worked past it, pushing the pair back with the staff before letting it go. She shut the door behind her, locking it and then moving a dresser over to barricade it. “BEVERLY, BEVERLY, BEVERLY” Her father screamed, pounding against the door with all the strength he had left. His blood began to pool under the doorway, staining her white converse as her father continues to call out for her name. Beverly kneels in the pool, tears streaming down her face as until he can hardly whisper anymore. After a moment, the whisper turned into the familiar undead moan. She got up slowly, recollecting her fathers’ staff before making her way up the stairs and back into her apartment.

ACCEPTED!

#application #submission

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