The Concept Of How Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Was As A Person Always Sends Me Into Fits. Imagine Making The

Que homem gostoso da peste!

I'm sorry, the english language don't have words to describe how handsome Harry is. I did need to tell it in my mother language

Grammy Awards 2021

Omg 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I to put Marc in a little jar and protect him from the evil of the world

do not chastise the dove (14) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: the king is exposed, the future is considered, and the past is revealed. 

word count: 4,582

warnings?: inaccurate depiction of legal proceedings, fluff, a little angsty, discussion of randall + wendy, discussion of did, pet name (dove)

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THE. CUTEST. THING. EVER. WRITTEN!

Absolutely perfect. Poor Eddie is so in love and so desperate 🥺🥰

Head Over Heels / Code Lime Green (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)

Summary: Dustin’s code red — the one that disrupted your perfectly good night — turned out to be a false alarm. But maybe racing across town wasn’t so bad after all.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: curse words, self indulgent fluff

(Note: this fic does not follow any timeline that is canonically possible.)

I do not consent to my work being uploaded on any other platforms, translated, nor copied.

A/N: I’m 90% sure this trope has been written before, if not already overdone. But I wanted to try my hand at fluff, so I hope that’s okay ;)

Wether it be through comments, shares, asks, or anything, all feedback is appreciated!

check out my masterlist!

You ran through the halls, your shoes screeching loudly on the grimy tiles that were usually being trampled on by you and your classmates.

Except now the school was eerily quiet, only your laboring breaths disrupting the silence.

Ignoring the snarls from teachers who stayed after hours and cutting every corner, you finally burst into the drama room, exactly where Dustin told you to meet him. He was incredibly specific, his voice urgent and blaring from the walkie he had given you last summer:

“CODE RED. I repeat, CODE RED! Meet me in the drama room NOW.”

A rush of cold flooded your veins at the message. You grabbed the device and you were in your car not a minute later. You sped down the streets like a madman - running stop signs and steering so erratically that you almost hit a squirrel.

As Dustin’s frantic words echoed in your mind, the most horrific scenarios conjured:

Is there another gate open?

Have any monsters gotten into the school?

Is Will okay?

You held your breath as if it were your last the entire way to the drama room.

Now, exactly where Dustin needed you, you find that there is. . . absolutely nothing wrong.

No danger. No demogorgons. No commotion.

It was just the Hellfire Club.

Actually, it was just two members of the Hellfire Club: Dustin and Eddie, folding DnD game boards and collecting stray figurines.

What the hell is going on?

An unworried, completely normal Dustin looks at you and smiles. It’s the same smile he wore when he finally beat Max’s score in Frogger. The expression quickly devolves into something more confused, however.

“Why are you breathing so hard?” he asks.

“You. . . You said ‘code red.’”

“Yeah? So?”

You throw your hands up with a dry laugh. “Have I gone mental? Code red is worst case case scenario. Just last week you were complaining that I’m always late to code reds and to rush.”

He tsks. “Yeah, because you are always late. But now you’re here, right on time, and I need a ride home.”

You gape at him, your fists clenched so tightly you think you might break your fingers.

“. . .Your code red was needing a ride home from Hellfire?”

He shrugs, nonchalant. “Yeah.”

Eddie - a presence you had completely forgot about until this moment - snickers from the corner. Your gaze shoots to him, eyes filled with rage daring him to laugh again. He puts his hands up in a surrender and quickly ducks his head.

He hopes you didn’t see him blush.

“Dustin,” you continue with a sigh, “that’s, like, a code, I don’t know. Lime green or something.”

“That’s not a thing. Lime green means nothing.”

“You are deliberately missing the point here.” You groan. “Why couldn’t Eddie have taken you home?”

Holy shit.

You know his name.

You didn’t call him “freak” or anything, either. You called him by his name.

And, damn, did it sound good from your lips.

As you continued fighting with Dustin, Eddie watches, somewhat entertained but mostly freaking the fuck out because you’re in the drama room after a Hellfire session.

Embarrassingly, Eddie has imagined this scene often. You, coming to Hellfire. Maybe to go on a date or just to see him.

He’s imagined a lot of things, admittedly. You drinking coffee he made for you, you in his arms as you watch a movie together, you next to him in the school cafeteria.

You laughing at one of his jokes. You kissing him. Even you simply standing next to him.

You, you, you.

A few short weeks ago, as he watched you through not-so-discrete glances in English class, biting your lips in concentration as you took notes, Eddie decided he’s had enough of imagining.

He decided that he was going to talk to you, ask you out, and hopefully go on a date with you. If you don’t burst into laughter the second he starts asking, that is.

Either way, the girl of his dreams or the worst heartbreak known to man, he vowed to talk to you.

The first time he tried went very poorly.

He waltzed up to your locker, an entire speech prepared.

But he’s pretty sure he just ended up staring at you for three minutes straight.

“What?” You asked, looking confused and a bit terrified.

Eddie realized that he came over, leaned on the locker next to your’s, and did nothing.

Absolutely

fucking

nothing.

“Shit,” he blurted. You jumped. He hated himself. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to— um.”

As you looked up at him expectantly, realization crashed over him like a tidal wave.

You were too good. Too sweet, too beautiful, too kind.

And Eddie was Eddie. The Freak of the school. The Cult Leader. The Outcast.

You, a gentle wind carrying fallen leaves and stars through the sky, could only ever be a dream.

“I just wanted to know if you had notes I could borrow from last period?” he asked.

You frowned and turned to rummage in your locker. You handed him a page from your notebook. He took it and practically ran.

When he got home that night, to a trailer that would never smell like you or be warmed with you or echo with your laughter, he couldn’t do anything but sulk.

Wayne got over that very quickly.

“Son,” he said, “if this girl has you wrapped around her finger this tight already, then there’s no harm in tellin’ her how you feel.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

“But what if she does?”

It was two weeks after that endeavor that he saw you again, your nose in a book and your eyes lighting up and your smile making his heart ache.

He thought of his vow and Wayne’s words and you — always you. And he was again resolved that he would talk to you. He just needed a little help.

He almost thought that he would never hear the end of it after he asked Dustin about you during lunch.

“How do you, Dustin Henderson, the boy who wears Weird Al t-shirts and thinks it’s cool, know her?”

“Weird Al is cool, and she used to be my babysitter.”

Gareth was the first to joke: “You wish she was your babysitter, huh?”

Then Jeff: “He wishes she was his anything.”

“Very clever,” Eddie said.

“The rebel and the babysitter,” Gareth joked, again. “You guys could be a John Hughes movie.”

Wheeler tried to have his fun, but Eddie promptly cut that off, “Shut up!”

But he thinks all of that may have been worth it because shit, you know his name.

Dustin was eager to help Eddie get to this point. To you. (“She’ll be yours in no time, Eddie. Just let me pull a few strings.”

“Okay, well. That makes it sound like you’re going to kidnap her.”

“If that’s what it comes to.”

“Ah. How comforting.”)

And you’re here, just like Dustin promised and how Eddie imagined. Dreamt. Fantasized.

The kid actually did it.

Eddie is definitely getting him a new D20 die for this.

Dustin shakes his head in disbelief. “You are especially grumpy tonight.”

“I am not.”

“Eddie, don’t you think she’s being grumpy?”

Dustin looks to him expectantly, his eyes widening as if to say, “Here’s your chance, man. I’m serving it to you on a silver platter. Take it!”

Take it!, Eddie thinks, nodding. Take it! What are you waiting for?

“I-I think the lady is being very reasonable,” he blurts, his voice shaking in and out of an embarrassingly terrible British accent.

He can’t believe he opened his mouth at all.

Why did he just say ‘the lady?’ Why did he put on an accent? Why did he think he was prepared for this? Why—

“Thank you, Eddie,” you say. “See? He gets it.”

A better question, he realizes, is why hasn’t he mustered the guts to speak to you before?

He’s opening his mouth again, bolder with your receptiveness, and he doesn’t know what comes over him when he says, much shakier than he intended, “Your pajamas are cute.”

You freeze, eyes boring into his. Your angry expression softens as you become flustered. Your lips twitch into a smile, your cheeks flush.

“O-Oh.” You look down at your outfit - your baggiest pants on with ‘Tears for Fears’ plastered across them. “Ha. Thanks.”

“I love them.”

“You do?”

No, Eddie does not love Tears for Fears. But he thinks he might be in love with you, so he will buy their album on his way home and try to love Tears for Fears.

“Hell yeah,” he lies, for now. “They rock.”

You smile and Eddie thinks his knees might give out.

You have gone over this moment a million times in your mind. How you would greet Eddie, talk to him, laugh at every one of his jokes. In your wildest dreams he would get down on one knee the minute you smiled at him, but that seemed a bit hasty.

Point is, you had this moment all planned out since your big fat crush on him started. Right down to the little details.

Clearly, as you stumble over every word and wring your fingers together, your planning was no use whatsoever.

“How was the, um, campaign?” You ask, so timid that you bite your tongue after in shame.

But he smiles so wide that his eyes crinkle and his dimples show, and suddenly you don’t think this is going too poorly.

“Really great,” he answers. “Better now,” he adds, and he wants to die because of it until you giggle at the corniness and now he wants to live just to make it happen again.

Dustin, on the other hand, wants to hurl.

“Okay,” Dustin interjects. “I’m glad my plan is going well, but I have a curfew and my mom will be irate if I don’t get home soon.”

“Plan? What plan—”

“Okay, let’s go!” Eddie jumps over a chair to get to you and ushers you out of the door. “Wouldn’t want Dustin to suffer the wrath of his mother. Or mine, really,” he muttered.

All of your questions fade away as Eddie’s hand rests on your lower back, guiding you out of the room.

“I’ll walk you to your car?” he says.

You nod. You try not to seem too disappointed when his hand falls from you.

You ask, “How’s your band coming along?”

“You know about Corroded Coffin?”

You giggle, again. “Of course I do. You guys rock as harder than Tears for Fears.”

Eddie can feel his heart beat all over his body.

“It’s going, um, fine. We only play for a few drunks, but it’s something.” His hands start trembling. “You should come see us, if you haven’t already. Tuesdays at—”

“At the Hideout,” you finish for him.

He huffs something akin to a laugh. He pushes open the door at the end of the hallway and you step outside.

“Make yourself known next time you come,” he says. “It would be nice to know there’s a pretty girl in the crowd cheering us on.”

You bite the inside of your cheek so hard you think it might bleed. You smile at him, unable to form words much less string together a sentence.

He smiles widely back at you. You can feel his warmth from how close you’re standing. You can feel the toe of his shoe pressed to yours. You can hear the hitch in his breath and see the determination in his eyes.

He’s is about to say something when Dustin interjects,

“This is taking way longer than I thought it would. Can we please—”

“Dustin,” you bite, strident, cold, and suddenly sobered from your lovesick haze. “Remember that campaign when I Iured a demogorgan out of your estate, nearly jeopardizing my character?”

“You can’t use that every time—”

“How about that one when I fought evil Russians?”

“I don’t see the relevance of either of those—”

“Or when you made me race down here from the other side of town to give you a stupid ride?”

“Okay! Okay! I’m going. Jeez.”

“Henderson.” Eddie stops him. “You put evil Russians in a campaign?”

Dustin glares at you. “Yeah.” He lies through barred teeth.

You smirk, your skin heating with your smugness. Or maybe it’s because you can feel Eddie’s breath on your cheeks as he speaks.

“I thought I taught you better than that, young warrior.”

“I—”

“The car!” You urge.

“Fine!”

“More importantly,” Eddie continues, eyes flitting from Dustin’s retreating figure to you, “you play DnD?”

“I used to, but they don’t let me anymore.” You snort. “They didn’t love having to hold my hand through every step of the game, you know?”

“Not really,” he says. “I’d hold your hand every step of the way.”

You freeze, staring at him wide eyed. He stares back equally surprised at his words.

He knew he would say something to fuck this up eventually. That was too over the line.

He stands in front of you motionless, all of the blood drained from his face. This might be more embarrassing than any moment he’s had tonight, but he just can’t think. Especially not with you looking at him like you are.

“I should probably get home, too,” you say eventually. You stand there for a few moments, hoping he might say something else. When he doesn’t, you bid, “Well, goodnight, Eddie.”

There his name is again, making his stomach flutter and all the courage he has swell in his chest.

“Would you like to go out sometime?” The question escapes lips almost breathlessly as you’re turning away.

Your steps falter. Your breath catches in your throat.

“What?”

“I. . . Christ.” He laughs uncomfortably, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I want to take you out on a date.”

Eddie feels like he can breathe with the question off his chest. Now it’s all up to if you’re going to hate his guts after this or the impossible — you liking him back.

You smile, you actually fucking smile, and ask, “Do you actually want to take me out on a date or do you still claim Tears for Fears rocks?”

With a small groan, he drags his hands down his face. “Saw through that, did you?”

“Like glass.”

He shakes his head disparagingly and, with another breath of courage, steps closer to you. “I can dig Tears for Fears.”

“You can?”

“Sweetheart, I’d listen to nails on a chalkboard if it meant you’d give me a chance.”

He’s once again so close that if you leaned in just slightly, you could press your lips to his. You could pull him in by the collar and taste him. Feel him. Have him feel you.

But instead, you kiss him on the cheek. “Have their album memorized by Friday and I’ll consider it,” you say, sarcasm coating your words like honey.

He chuckles, a boyish delight bright in his eyes.

As you turn on your heel and walk toward your car, you hear him call, “I’ll pick you up Friday at 7!”

“6!” You call back as you climb behind the wheel. Dustin lets out a small, “Finally.”

Dustin is almost bouncing in the passenger seat when he asks, “Did he ask you out?”

A strangled sound of surprise escapes your lips. “Why would you ask that?”

“That was the whole reason I called you down here.”

A beat.

Then, “Your code red was Eddie?”

“Seriously, do I have to connect all of the dots for you?”

He rolls his eyes as you continue to stare at him, utterly perplexed.

“Eddie has had a crush on you since forever but he never had the guts to talk to you. Thus, my genius plan to get you to come to the drama room. Thus, your date.” He sighs. “Must I continue?”

You let his words sink in, your breaths shallow and your teeth worrying your bottom lip.

Holy shit.

“I’m like Cupid,” he says cheerily.

“I don’t think Cupid ever reveals his master plan, Dustin.” You laugh. “He also doesn’t make me run around school when I could be home watching TV.”

“Well, he just got you a date, which is much better than any Family Ties rerun.”

Eddie waves at you as you drive out of the parking lot, a smile brighter than the moon igniting one of your own.

“Yeah,” you say dreamily. “I guess so.”

You are so getting Dustin a milkshake on the way home.

Eddie Munson taglist: @chickpeadumpsterfire @luvslogan (having a taglist is insane!! I feel so cool. Thank you for reading 💗!)

Watching Mary Poppins Returns one more time because I absolutely love this movie.

The Emily Blunt's Mary Poppins, Lin's Jack, the songs and ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING ON THIS MOVIE is perfect!

All this sequence is so amazing!

Heroes say goodbye to Tony Stark in Avengers: Endgame deleted scene

Okay, I know that we must hate Agatha, she is the villain, she murdered Sparky... But I can't!

Agnes is such a great character, I absolutely love her and discovering that she is Agatha and hearing her theme song?! FUCKING INCREDIBLE

Well, I guess that makes one more villain to my list of "characters who I must hate but I don't"

do not chastise the dove (10) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: operation rescue dove is underway.

word count: 2,218

warnings?: mention of death, mention of kidnapping, mention of psychological torture, not proofread. 

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I really hate this man

Just realized the reason that the sparrow academy is the way it was is because Reginald is so much of a dick that he definetly went out of his was to pick different kids, and only got Ben cause he didn’t know him yet.

I’m screaming.

LETS GOOOOOOOO

Mission save the princess will start!

do not chastise the dove (8) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: the last thing the boys are going to do is sit on their ass and wait for someone else to rescue you. 

word count: 4,248

warnings?: not proofread

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I love stories where the person who does something like cheating or like what Izuku did at this has everything in life going wrong and doesn't have friends anymore and is absolutely miserable 😈😈😈

Loved Bakugou caring about y/n 😍 the cutest thing 😭

If you do a tag list for this, can I be added to it, please?

2

Breakeven: The Script

Izuku x female reader; Bakugo x female reader

Genre: Drama, Angst, Humor

Warnings: Swearing

Masterlist

a/n: parts of this chapter takes place after the break-up as well as before the end of the last chapter.

I’m still alive but I’m barely breathing

Just prayin’ to a God that I don’t believe in

‘Cause I got time while she got freedom

'Cause when a heart breaks no it don’t break even

Y/n regulated her breathing, clutching tightly to her suitcases as she waited outside the complex. She refused to cry here, least of all in front of him. Tapping her foot impatiently, she hoped, that her ride would get there soon. She didn’t know if Izuku would try to follow her, and she was in no mood for another round. The sound of a beeping car horn, made Y/n’s head turn right, and she let out a watery laugh at the sight of her best friend’s car. Shinsou had the windows rolled down, and the sunroof open, his boyfriend Shoto could be seen sticking out of the sunroof, his older brother Touya next to him. Both fire users had their hands lit a flame, shaped like machete’s. Y/n could see Natsuo and Fuyumi in the backseat, pointy ice lances, hanging out of the windows. The funniest thing Y/n could see, was Endeavour, the retired #1 hero, perched atop the hood of the car, like a bird of vengeance, all fire and anger. As Shinsou pulled the car to a stop, Y/n was met with the familiarly angry face, of the current #2 Hero, Bakugo Katsuki. “Say the word princess, and we light this building up.” He grunted, flickering his palm. Y/n only let out a watery laugh, unclenching her suitcases as she made her way towards him. 

Bakugo opened the door, and met her halfway, pulling her into his chest. In his strong embrace, Y/n finally let herself go, sobs wracking through her body. Touya jumped out of the car, moving to put her bags in the trunk. “Whether you say the word or not, I’m kicking his ass doll.” Enji merely snorted, waving his phone in his son’s face. “I just texted Yagi, and he told Aizawa; they’re both going to wipe the floor with him Monday.” He grinned, looking up at the windows. Flaring his fire out, Endeavor sent the #1 hero a big fuck you, ensuring that the boy would see it. Against Bakugo’s chest, Y/n let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Just get me out of here.” She whispered, moving toward the car. “I’m hungry, and I don’t want to look at this place anymore.” 

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