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solxamber · 3 months ago

Note

Hello! I saw your fic(?) On the reader being similar to the white rabbit!

So I had a similar idea but with absolem the caterpillar from Alice in wonderland. With heartslabyul, octavinelle and pomefiore (added on maybe chenya ?). Basically the reader is a 2nd year and is a very cocky person when it comes to things like subjects they get high scores in along with having bad anger issues? This is just an idea I have at the top of my head 😅 I also don't make requests often if that was clear lol.

Thank you if reading my request ! :)

It's been so long since I read Alice in Wonderland but I hope this is what you wanted <3

Absolem! Reader with Heartslabyul, Octavinelle and Pomefiore + Che'nya

Rest of the characters: here

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle Rosehearts had no idea how to handle you. On one hand, you were technically a model student—when you weren’t terrorizing everyone with your arrogance, that is. On the other hand, your cocky attitude made his eye twitch like he was seconds away from writing up a whole new rule just for your ego.

“You may have gotten the highest score in Alchemy,” Riddle said stiffly, his hands clenched behind his back like he was bracing himself for an incoming tidal wave of sass, “but that does not excuse you from following protocol during experiments!"

You leaned back in your chair, all smug grin and half-lidded eyes. “Oh, Riddle, Riddle, Riddle. If I followed your ‘protocol,’ we’d still be stuck trying to figure out how to transmute lead into potatoes.”

His face flushed as red as a rose. “That is not the point!”

“I’m just saying,” you replied with a shrug, “your rules are cute, but some of us prefer actual results.”

There was a long, tension-filled silence. Then, Riddle’s lips twitched, and you could almost hear his brain rewriting Rule 392: No Sassing The Dorm Leader.

Trey Clover

If Trey had a talent, it was the ability to defuse a situation with nothing more than a laid-back smile and a soft-spoken word or two. But when it came to your outbursts, even Trey occasionally had to roll up his sleeves.

“You’re getting pretty fired up over here, huh?” Trey said, folding his arms and giving you that calm, big-brother smile.

You narrowed your eyes. “They just don’t get it, Trey. If they’d actually listen to me, we’d be done with these stupid group projects in half the time.”

Trey hummed, still as placid as ever. “Maybe. Or maybe they just don’t appreciate being called ‘incompetent cabbage heads’ every time they mess up.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t call them that this time.”

“Oh, my mistake. That was last week.” Trey chuckled, grabbing a cupcake from a tray. “Anyway, maybe you should try a new approach. Like, I don’t know... baking?”

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Is this another one of your ‘therapy via baked goods’ attempts? Because the last time I tried, Cater put the whole thing on Magicam, and I’m still seeing memes about ‘exploding tarts.’”

Trey just smiled knowingly. “Everyone’s gotta start somewhere.”

Cater Diamond

“#MoodSwings, am I right?”

Cater had this incredible (and incredibly annoying) ability to pop up just when you were about to lose it. Today was no different. You were fuming over some insignificant thing someone said in class, and right when you were about to explode, there he was, phone at the ready.

“I swear, if you tag me in another one of your posts—” you started, but he was already snapping pics, duck-lip selfie style.

“Whoa, chill, bestie! It’s not my fault you’ve got that ‘rage extrodinaire’ aesthetic. The followers eat it up. Seriously, you should start a channel. #CaterToYourAnger.”

You glared. “I’d start with a video called ‘How to Get Away with Smashing Cater’s Phone.’”

Cater grinned, absolutely unfazed. “Aww, love you too, cupcake. Just think of all the likes we’d get!”

Ace Trappola

Ace? Oh, Ace lived to rile you up. He thrived on it like a plant soaking in the sun.

“So,” he said, leaning back against the wall with a smug grin, “I heard you were bragging about your Potions grade again. Shocking.”

You glared daggers at him. “I don’t have to brag. The results speak for themselves. Unlike your grades, which are probably hiding in the shadow of your last failed test.”

“Oof, that’s cold. You sure you’re not secretly studying Ice Magic?” Ace shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You know, all that boasting is just you overcompensating for something. Like, maybe you’re secretly terrible at everything else?”

Your temper flared instantly, and you stepped closer, ready to unleash your wrath. “Say that again, and I’ll show you what happens when—”

“Oh, hold on—Deuce! Hey, Deuce!” Ace shouted, and before you could lay into him, Deuce was running over, looking confused and ready to brawl for no reason.

“Are we fighting? We’re fighting, right?” Deuce asked, fists already up.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Deuce, no one’s fighting.”

“Yet,” Ace muttered with a wink, and you had to resist the urge to scream.

Deuce Spade

Deuce tried. He really did. But no matter how hard he tried to match your fiery personality, he just couldn’t seem to get it quite right.

“You know, I’ve been practicing too,” Deuce said one day, puffing out his chest like he was about to impress you. “I’m getting better at Transfiguration!”

You blinked. “Really? Didn’t you turn someone’s textbook into a chicken by accident last week?”

Deuce’s face turned red. “I-It wasn’t a chicken! It was... okay, maybe it was a chicken, but I’m improving!”

“Sure you are,” you teased, crossing your arms. “I bet your next experiment will turn the whole dorm into a petting zoo.”

Deuce stared at you for a moment, clearly weighing his options. “...That would actually be kinda cool.”

You facepalmed. “Deuce, please.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul wasn’t intimidated by your cockiness. No, in fact, he saw it as something to be... monetized. Because why not take that overblown confidence of yours and turn it into something profitable for the Mostro Lounge?

“You could be quite the business partner,” Azul remarked, smiling slyly from across his desk. “With your top grades and undeniable talent, I’m sure students would pay handsomely for tutoring sessions.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What’s the catch?”

Azul feigned innocence. “Catch? Why, there’s no catch at all. Just a little... arrangement. I take a modest percentage of the profits, and in return, you gain access to the resources of the Mostro Lounge. Think of it as... a mutually beneficial partnership.”

You tilted your head. “So basically, I do all the work, and you skim off the top?”

Azul’s grin widened. “A shrewd observation, but I prefer the term strategic partnership.”

Jade Leech

Jade, on the other hand, was a master of subtlety. He didn’t confront you head-on like the others did. No, Jade had this unnerving way of quietly watching you, like a predator biding its time.

“Your temper is quite fascinating,” Jade remarked one day, his eerie smile never faltering.

You crossed your arms defensively. “Fascinating how?"

“Oh, just the way it flares up so quickly. It’s almost... predictable.” He tilted his head slightly. “I wonder, how well do you control it in dangerous situations?”

“Why, are you planning to test me or something?” you asked warily, already regretting the question.

Jade chuckled softly. “Oh no, nothing of the sort. I’m merely... observing. You’re quite the specimen, after all.”

You shuddered. “Please stop talking like I’m some kind of lab rat.”

Floyd Leech

Floyd, on the other hand, lived to push your buttons. He loved it when you lost your cool because it meant you were interesting. And Floyd? He thrived on interesting.

“Oi, Shrimpy!” Floyd’s voice echoed across the lounge as he slung an arm around your shoulders. “Heard you got top marks again. Big shot, huh?”

You side-eyed him. “Don’t call me Shrimpy.”

“Awww, but I like it!” he whined, pouting dramatically. “You get all mad when I do it. It’s fun! Do it again! Get mad!”

You groaned. “Why are you like this?”

Floyd grinned, his sharp teeth gleaming. “Why not? It’s more fun to watch you blow a gasket. Maybe I’ll squeeze ya real good next time you freak out.”

You shook him off. “No thanks, I’d rather not have my ribs crushed.”

“Awww, but that’s the best part!”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil couldn’t stand your cocky attitude. Mostly because he couldn’t stand anything that was less than perfection—and in his eyes, you were far from it.

“Such arrogance,” Vil remarked, inspecting his reflection in a compact mirror as you ranted about how no one appreciated your brilliance. “It’s one thing to be talented, but it’s another thing entirely to lack grace.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. Like you’ve never been confident in your own abilities.”

Vil snapped the compact shut, finally looking at you with a sharp, withering gaze. “Confidence is one thing. Vulgarity is is another.” He raised an eyebrow, his perfect lips curving in a condescending smile. “And darling, you’re teetering dangerously close to the latter.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I’m just saying, if everyone else could keep up with me, maybe I wouldn’t have to be this way.”

Vil waved a hand dismissively. “Keep up with you? I highly doubt that. There’s a fine line between confidence and crudeness, and you’ve trampled right over it in those worn-out boots of yours.”

You glanced down at your boots, scowling. “Hey! My boots are perfectly fine!”

Vil gave you a once-over, a pitying sigh slipping from his lips. “I could recommend a stylist, but I doubt even the best could save you from that attitude of yours."

Rook Hunt

If there was anyone who found your fiery personality endlessly amusing, it was Rook. The man seemed to delight in your temper tantrums, treating them like some kind of grand performance.

“Oh, what a magnifique display of passion!” Rook exclaimed one afternoon, after you’d shouted at some poor first-year for knocking into you. “Your fire burns so brightly, it is a wonder you do not set the very air ablaze!”

You glared at him, still fuming. “I’m not trying to entertain you, Rook.”

“But you do! Oh, you do!” Rook clapped his hands together, his eyes shining with admiration. “To witness such raw emotion—it is truly a gift. You are like a tempest, sweeping all in your path.”

“Pretty sure that’s just a fancy way of saying I’m a walking disaster.”

“Non, non, non!” Rook laughed, shaking his head. “You are a force of nature, one that cannot be tamed! To tame such a spirit would be a crime against beauty itself!”

You blinked at him, unsure whether to be flattered or concerned. “Okay, sure. Whatever makes you happy, Rook.”

Epel Felmier

Epel had mixed feelings about you. On one hand, he admired your guts—your temper was something to be feared, and Epel respected that. On the other hand, you were annoying.

“You know, just ‘cause you’re good at Magic History doesn’t mean you gotta rub it in everyone’s face,” Epel grumbled one day after you’d corrected him in class. “Ain’t nobody here tryin’ to hear that.”

You leaned against the desk, a smug grin on your face. “It’s not my fault you can’t keep up. Maybe if you spent more time studying and less time trying to look tough, you’d have better grades.”

Epel’s face turned red. “I am tough! And if you say somethin’ like that again, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” You raised an eyebrow, daring him to continue.

Epel gritted his teeth, fists clenched at his sides. “I’ll... I’ll... kick your butt in PE next time!”

You snorted. “Sure, Epel. Let me know how that goes.”

He muttered something under his breath, probably swearing revenge in the form of some country-style wrestling move, but you were already too busy planning your next academic triumph to care.

Che'nya

Of course, Che’nya didn’t mind your attitude at all. In fact, he found it downright entertaining. He’d pop up at the most inconvenient moments, grinning that mischievous grin of his and waiting for you to lose your cool.

“Nyah~ Why so serious, Y/N?” Che’nya’s voice floated down from seemingly nowhere. “All that steam comin’ outta your ears can’t be good for your health.”

You looked up, scowling as you spotted him lounging in a tree, that trademark grin never leaving his face. “What do you want, Che’nya?”

He tilted his head, blinking innocently. “Just wonderin’ if you were plannin’ to blow a gasket today. I’ve got a front-row seat!"

“Get down here before I make you,” you snapped.

“Oooh, feisty! You know, it’s a good thing you’re not in Wonderland.” He chuckled, disappearing and reappearing right beside you. “You’d fit right in with all the wild tempers down there.”

You rolled your eyes. “And you’d fit right in with the pests.”

Che’nya laughed, not the least bit offended. “Nyah~ You say the sweetest things! See ya around, Hothead.”

And with that, he disappeared again, leaving you to stew in your own frustration. Typical Che’nya.

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starleska · 2 years ago

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The Nightmare Picnic - Wally Darling x Reader

You're a brand new resident in the wonderful Welcome Home Neighbourhood, and it's the perfect day for the picnic! But your dear friend Wally Darling doesn't seem to be enjoying the fun. What will happen when you decide to try and cheer him up?

content warnings for: eye imagery, scopophobia, hypnosis, impossible physics, Eldritch, and unreality. go in assuming that Wally is a weird little guy, and you’re both terrified of and kind of enjoy that fact! 😉 you can also find this fic on my AO3. i hope you enjoy!!

The day you learn how to love Wally Darling begins like any other.

It is a balmy day, the air soft and thick and dizzy with butterflies. The sun shines with relentless cheer, and nary a cloud can be seen in the sky. Such a day in the Neighbourhood cannot be spent languishing inside, and all your new neighbours think the same way. So, which lovely activity did they decide upon? Why, a picnic on the grass, of course!

The organisation of the event is efficient and cheerful. In no time, the lush meadow surrounding the outskirts of the Neighbourhood is replete with cosy blankets to lie on, fun games to play, and a plethora of delicious foods contributed by each neighbour. Luckily, you’d baked a whole tray of cupcakes the previous day, with the intent of handing them out when bumping into your neighbours going about their daily business. The cupcakes were a huge success; even the ever-curmudgeonly Frank, who always has something to complain about, graces you with a begrudging, “It’s good, I suppose,” when you hand him a vanilla cupcake topped with a green-icing butterfly.

'I needed this,’ you think as you look around at your new friends. You’ve only been a resident of the Neighbourhood for a few months, but in that time you’ve grown so close to its colourful cast of neighbours as if you’d known each other your whole lives. Right now, they’re dotted across the meadow, smiling and laughing without a care in the world: Howdy’s busy putting together an impossibly long string of daisy chains; Eddie and Sally peer into an origami fortune-teller and giggle at the results; Frank leans over a bush, studying a caterpillar, and Julie and Poppy clap and cheer whilst Barnaby entertains them with a juggling act.

It’s a gorgeous scene. Today, your heart is warm.

A small flash of yellow catches your eye. Of course, it’s an incomplete picture. You take in Wally, who sits cross-legged under the shade of a verdant apple tree. He’s holding an apple between both hands and staring at it intently, as if willing the fruit to communicate with him. It’s an odd expression - you aren’t used to seeing Wally in a state of concentration.

“Hey, Wally!” you call.

Wally looks up at you and smiles. He beckons you over.

“Hello,” says Wally, in his simple way. “I’m happy to see you.”

Oh, what a beautiful voice. Every time you hear Wally speak, it’s like the gentle lapping of his syllables sweep away your worries in a single wave.

As you get closer to Wally, you notice a few strands of his deep blue hair turning flyaway and giving in to the heat, curling away from the otherwise-immaculate pompadour and escaping the death-grip of his hairspray. He’s a little dishevelled elsewhere, too; Wally’s neckerchief is coming loose, and though he’s long since abandoned his cardigan, a stray button on his shirt remains stubbornly popped. You find yourself grinning. Wally takes such pride in his appearance that you never get to see him a little less than perfect.

“Same to you!” you say. “Aren’t you hungry? All the food’s down with the others.”

That unusually pensive look on Wally’s face deepens. He turns his eyes back to his apple. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” You rummage in your backpack and pull out a chocolate bar. “You’ve got to eat, bud. You not feeling so good?”

Wally takes the treat from you and examines it for a moment, as if the bar is a scientific curiosity. “That’s very nice of you…but this doesn’t work for me. You should keep it.”

When Wally hands the bar back, your fingers touch for the briefest moment, and a shiver works its way up your spine.

You don’t know when this… thing you have for Wally Darling began. Despite the countless nights you’ve spent desperately trying to focus on something, anything else, your thoughts inevitably return to the little yellow puppet-man and his catlike smile. There’s a strange magnetism to Wally which befits his profession as a television host; everything from the delicate way he handles his paintbrush, to his ridiculous affinity for apples, leaves you with a little more fondness than before. Wally has so much affection stored in one small body, and when you first met, you wondered how any person could love so much all at once.

But now, when you look at Wally, you understand.

“If you’re sure.” You pop the bar back into your bag and sit on the ground in front of Wally, mirroring his cross-legged pose. “The offer’s still there.”

“It’s tempting,” says Wally, now turning his apple over and over in his hands. “I’d like to know what would happen, if I tried. But Barnaby told me it isn’t worth the risk. I trust him to know.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, but the look on Wally’s face is so uncharacteristically brooding that you don’t feel it’s polite to pry. Wally’s always been the drifting sort: those large, dewy eyes of his are perpetually lidded, and always seem to be gazing at something no one else can see. But Wally’s inattentiveness is usually matched with an infectious, excited kind of energy, bursting with nonsense and love.

Today, he almost looks sad. The idea makes you feel sick.

It occurs to you that this may be a personal issue, and Wally doesn’t know you well enough to discuss it. So you ask, “Do you want me to look away?”

Wally’s fingers still. To your surprise, the apple actually drops from his hands and rolls into the grass. You’ve never seen Wally mistreat an apple before - there must be something seriously wrong.

“Actually,” says Wally, now looking at you properly, “I’d like to try something.”

He gestures for you to shuffle closer. When you do, Wally reaches forward and takes hold of your forearms. You make a surprised noise, but Wally squeezes you, and fixes you with a smile full of reassurance and warmth. A rush of heat leaps into your cheeks, and you’re suddenly reminded of an interaction you had with another neighbour not too long ago.

It was only a week after you arrived in the Neighbourhood, and you were finally moving the last of your belongings into your home. All of your new neighbours had graciously donated their time to help you in some fashion, and you were overcome with gratitude. On that final day you were more than capable of doing the rest of the moving yourself, but your closest neighbour - the excitable Julie Joyful - volunteered to help with the last handful of delicate items. At first, you were unsure - Julie is a lovely girl and incredibly fun to be around, but so spirited that you feared for the safety of your items. But a good twenty minutes of allowing her to help with the least fragile of your boxes allayed all your fears: Julie moves with the grace of a ballerina, and the two of you soon had all your boxes stacked in your living room.

Burnt orange sunlight poured through the window, streaming soon-to-be-dusk and casting the wooden floorboards with a vibrant glow. You take a moment from the heavy lifting to look out the window. Across the lawn, you can make out a couple of your neighbours engaging in some game. Upon closer inspection, you realise it’s Wally and Barnaby, the former laughing and tossing a series of colourful balls for Barnaby to catch.

You watched as Wally swung his arm and threw a few of the balls a surprising distance, letting the large, spotted dog race off to retrieve them. Wally put his hands on his hips, as if exhausted by the exertion. He turned - and locked eyes with you. Wally’s face broke out into a huge grin, and he gave you a hearty wave. Feeling horribly embarrassed, you waved back, trying to ignore the painful squeezing of your heart. You’ve only known Wally a week, and yet you’re utterly charmed by everything he does.

A tug on your arm brought you back to the present: it’s Julie. She bats her long eyelashes at you, a knowing smile on her face.

“You like hiiiiim, ” she teased, her voice all sing-song.

“What?!”

You grabbed Julie by the shoulders and yanked her away from the window, as if Wally could somehow hear you both through sight. “No! I don’t know where you got an idea like that-”

“It’s okay, sweetie. You don’t need to pretend.”

Your face felt like it was on fire. You’d always been the careful type, ensuring your innermost thoughts and feelings stayed stuffed as far down as possible to keep you safe. But the Neighbourhood bred a kind of emotional honesty with which you were totally unfamiliar. Everyone is so exuberant, always wearing their hearts on their sleeves - some of them even literally, as plenty of your new neighbours wore outfits stitched with cute little hearts! Keeping a secret in the Neighbourhood felt wrong…even a secret crush on the silly little artist whose smile lit up your insides.

So, you give in. “How did you know?”

Julie giggles. She fishes in the pocket of her dress, and pulls out a daisy.

“I know a lot about flowers,” she explained, as she twirled the stem between her fingers. “What kinds grow in different meadows. How much sun and water and love they need to grow. They show it in their petals, and how they lean. People are a lot like that too.

“When you arrived, you looked…wilted. Like you’d been kept out of the sun for too long. I could see it, but didn’t want to ask why. I think everyone else could, too…and we all wanted to help a new friend who lost their colour.”

“You’ve all been so lovely to me,” you said, by way of thanks.

Julie nodded. “Sure we have! And it worked, for a little bit. But for a flower at the end of its days, even fresh soil, plenty of sun and lots of water can only do so much. Your petals seemed faded for good. And that’s okay. I just wanted you to be happy - whatever that looks like for you.”

You swallowed. “You see a lot, for a gardener.”

Julie smiled. “When you care for flowers, you learn to listen to their needs. Sometimes, you’ll have a flower who has everything in the world…but they’re still curling up, and shying away from the light.”

She pressed the daisy into your palm.

“Wally brings the colour back to your petals,” said Julie. “Do yourself a favour. Don’t hide from your sun.”

Another squeeze from Wally brings you out of your recollection. You suck in a deep breath, facing this new reality of Wally holding you, his fingers pleasantly warm and fuzzy.

“Close your eyes,” says Wally gently.

For anyone else, you would’ve paused - but for Wally, you comply immediately.

Slowly, you feel Wally’s hands slide down your arms to your hands. He threads his fingers through yours and holds them firm, so tight that you start to feel your blood thrumming from the pressure. Your hearing, sensitive now your sight is compromised, picks up the distant chatter of your neighbours, as well as the friendly sounds of nature at play. Your skin tingles, sweat-slicked from the heat and the nerves.

“I have a question,” says Wally, his voice wonderfully calm and soft.

“Yes?”

“Why do you eat?”

“Uh…” What kind of question was that? Wally is admittedly prone to posing questions that only a truly strange mind would think up, but this one is so baffling, you’re thrown entirely for a loop. “...So I don’t die, I guess?”

“Ha ha ha ha!” Wally’s unique, halting laugh almost startles you into opening your eyes. “You’re so funny. Okay. Do you know why I eat?”

This time, it takes you a little longer to answer. A simple enough question, surely with the exact same answer? But Wally’s voice has taken on a teasing, knowing edge - a sound you recognise from when he’s setting up a punchline. The question must be a trick. So you rack your brains, trying to think of all the times you’d seen Wally eat: where he was, what he was eating.

With your eyes still closed, you reach a strange realisation.

“I…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat.”

A soft chuckle from Wally. “That’s right. You haven’t.”

Wally’s grip on your hand tightens. Strangely, a weak, static noise buzzes to life, seemingly from inside your skull. You shift, trying to locate the source, but Wally holds you in place. As the noise grows, the sounds of your friends fizzle out and die. It’s as if you’ve been placed on an invisible train and are moving steadily down the track, away from all the familiar sounds of your Neighbourhood - but you can’t feel the rumbling of the track, or hear the whistle of the wind.

“But…maybe you should.”

With Wally’s words the temperature noticeably drops, and gooseflesh breaks out on your arms. You shudder, wanting to open your eyes but finding that you can’t: your eyelids feel impossibly heavy. You’re stuck in place, pinioned to the grass (which you can no longer feel) as that buzzing sound inches up by the decibel, a nasty, steady crawl which leaves your brain awash in a sea of noise.

“Open your eyes.”

You do so.

And you can’t make sense of what you see.

The sky is gone. The tree is gone. The meadow is gone. Every detail from the Neighbourhood’s comforting landscape has evaporated, leaving nothing behind but a grayscale emptiness which fuzzes in and out like television static. Even the awful buzzing sound abruptly falls away, leaving your ears with nothing but the distant sound of an unseen tide.

Wally still sits in front of you, his hands grasping yours, but it’s like he’s sitting on nothing at all: somehow supported by a cushion of emptiness. It’s like the texture of the world has fallen out of reality.

Seized by vertigo, you tighten your grip on Wally’s hands. “What’s happening?!”

“Don’t worry,” says Wally. “You’re safe.”

“There’s nothing here,” you whisper. “Where is everyone?”

“Back Home,” says Wally. “They can’t see us right now. They’re not ready.” His smile turns coy. “But I think you are. Watch this.”

Wally reaches over and rustles in your backpack. Your heart crawls into your mouth; although you can see Wally’s hands in front of you, you can somehow still feel his hands holding both of yours, keeping you locked in place. You try to look down and make sense of this impossibility, but your eyes are stuck, glued to Wally’s face. You can only watch, terrified, as he takes out your chocolate bar and locks in his gaze.

Without warning, Wally’s eyes flare open, heavy lids drawing back and revealing the full size of his large, black pupils. Wally’s stare travels steadily down the chocolate bar, a focused intensity searing from his eyes like a laser. Somehow as he stares, bite marks are chunked out of the chocolate, as if some great invisible person is taking enormous chomps out of both the bar and wrapper. In seconds, the chocolate is gone.

Panic grips your chest, and you start to hyperventilate. The world tilts, and you’re scared you might actually puke. Wally blinks, his eyelids half-blanketing those pupils once more, and he looks at you with concern. When his eyes connect, your chest convulses with panic: a type of terror you’ve never experienced before threatening to claw its way out of your body and devour you whole.

“What happened?!”

“Oh, don’t be scared,” says Wally, his voice floating and cloudlike. “This is just how I eat.”

“How - did you - do - that?” you gasp.

“I’m not sure. I’ve always eaten this way.” Wally inclines his head in sympathy. “I am sorry if I’ve made you afraid. I usually only eat when others are blinking. That way, I don’t interrupt them. I don’t want to be rude."

You suck in a huge gulp of breath. “Wally, this is…impossible,” you manage. “I want to leave - I want to go Home-”

“You can’t.”

Wally shakes his head mildly from side to side, but his eyes seem to stay still, locked into the centre of his face. No matter how much you strain to move, those incredible eyes remain right in front of you, always at the same distance, never looking away - and never blinking. In your peripheral vision, you see Wally’s hand reach up towards your face. He cups your cheek. The sensation of feeling three arms belonging to a two-armed person on your body sends a rush of nausea through your throat. Wally strokes your skin with his thumb.

“You understand me so well,” says Wally. “You see me, don’t you?”

“I don’t understand.” Another wave of dizziness rises up, pushing behind your eyeballs. The sensation is the same as the pressure of allergies arising on a high pollen day - yet you can no longer smell the flowers of the meadow. You try again in vain to rip your gaze away from Wally’s, but you can’t - and you’re finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

Wally’s thumb stops, resting in the dip of your cheek. “I love my friends, but they only see one part of me. The part they want to see. But you…”

His thumb trails to the edge of your lip.

“...you see all of me.”

You’re split in two. Your brain, the logical part of your thinking, is screaming at you to do anything - to move, to scream, to run as fast as you can into the nightmare emptiness and beg for help. But the other part of you - your traitorous, emotional heart - douses the runaway fire of your fear with the intoxication of Wally’s touch. You find yourself leaning into his hand, savouring how perfectly his cheek cups your palm, and the slight fuzz of his thumb teasing your lip.

“I do,” you whisper. Suddenly, your body relaxes, and you slump forward. You feel very tired. The panic which gripped your body only moments ago is now quashed, flattened into a fine layer of dust by the weight of Wally’s impossibly black eyes. Now your nervous system is nothing but the aftermath: the feeling of fight-or-flight chemicals settling into your bloodstream, leaving you weak and sluggish.

Now, Wally’s eyes are not a source of terror. They’re a blanket you wish to curl up beneath, and never wake up.

“I think you’re special, you know,” says Wally. “The way I feel when I’m around you is…different, than with the others. You’re the absolute most.”

Wally’s words settle over your brain like a dream. You watch, your eyes heavy and drained, as Wally brings his hands up to his chest and forms the shape of his heart with his fingers. You’re no longer scared of the physical contradictions of Wally holding your hands whilst signing his affection. It seems in this reality, Wally can have as many hands as he wants.

This is why Wally’s next question confuses you so:

“Do you think if our friends saw me like this…they’d run away?”

Wally’s words are becoming harder to process. The world around him tunnels. Even though you’re sure that you’re fixed in place, sitting on some immovable, textureless cushion, Wally’s eyes grow larger, encroaching evermore on your limiting field of vision. The longer you look, the more of Wally’s scleras are swallowed by his expanding pupils. Those blown, void-black pools seem to come with their own gravity, and you’re slipping into their inconceivable pull, ready to be strewn and stretched and ripped apart by their physics.

“Oh, Wally,” you try to say, but your tongue slackens, and his name comes out as, ‘Waaalllllyyyy.’ “We love you so much. You can’t make us run away.”

Wally smiles, and you think it’s the saddest thing you’ve ever seen.

“How I wish that were true.”

Suddenly, Wally’s eyes shift just the slightest bit to the left. The effect is like unsealing a pressure chamber. For a moment you are released from his eyes, and your brain and body scramble as one, free-falling and bracing to break against the ground with a hypnic jerk. However, Wally realises his mistake and grabs you by the shoulder - another impossible arm - and forces you to look back into his eyes.

“Shh. Don’t strain yourself. The more you resist, the worse you’ll feel.”

You blink rapidly, trying to reorient yourself in space. Wally’s touch grounds you again, holding you steady in this non-existent space. You try to reply, but your mouth now hangs open, jaw useless. Saliva collects in a pool under your tongue, but Wally still keeps his thumb at the edge of your lip, now rubbing soothing circles against your flesh.

“We don’t have much time,” says Wally. “But…thank you for this. You can’t know how much I appreciate you.”

The warm flush of his approval works its way through your unresponsive body. Your muscles contract, dopamine and serotonin coating your insides and bringing your fingers - still interlocked with Wally’s - into a sudden contraction. You force your mouth into a speech-ready shape, fuelled by his words and his touch and the sheer paradox of his being, and you try so desperately to say, ‘Wally, I love you- ’

But then he looks away.

The spell is broken. Like flipping to another television channel, the world around you snaps back into place in one vivid bound. All the colour, sounds and scents of the Neighbourhood re-enter your senses in one huge burst, and the force of it almost knocks you over. Wally - who is still holding your hands, just like before - keeps you steady, crushing your hands together like he would rather die than let go.

“Hey, you two!”

Looking away from Wally feels like ripping off a plaster. Your eyes alight on Julie trotting up the meadow’s slight incline, clutching a hotdog in one hand and a cooler in the other.

“Eddie wanted me to tell you we’re packing up,” Julie chirps. “Looks like a thunderstorm is coming.” She looks down at your hands, still intertwined with Wally’s, and grins. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just some good old-fashioned fun,” says Wally, his voice impassive and gentle.

The ability for words has deserted you. You stare back at Wally, searching desperately for something supernatural in the darks of his eyes. Wally looks normal - as normal as a small, yellow puppet can - and his eyes are back to their half-lidded, sleepy-looking state. It takes a couple of nudges with his foot for Wally to bring you back to earth.

Wally lets go of your hands, and you can feel the blood pumping in the spaces between your fingers. You try standing up, but your legs are weak and wobbly, as if you’d just run a marathon while sitting in one spot. They would’ve collapsed beneath you, but Wally catches you before you slip. He hauls you up and loops his arm around yours.

“Just hungry,” Wally says with a smile. “Let’s get you Home."

Julie leads the way down the small embankment, with Wally supporting your timid, uneasy steps. You soon reach your neighbours, now busying themselves in tidying up the remnants of your picnic. Upon seeing you, they all crowd around, asking if you’re okay. Barnaby remarks that you look terribly pale, and Sally offers to bring you a drink. However, Wally shoos them off, admonishing them in a familial sort of way. He reassures them that you’ve just had a small fainting spell, and need to get some rest.

Now free of the others, Julie, Wally and yourself make the way home - and you’re thankful it’s only a short distance. When you finally reach your porch you want to fall over onto the steps, but Wally keeps you held upright: a firm, reassuring presence at your side.

“You need to tell us if you get this again, okay?” says Julie, looking at you with worry in her eyes.

“Okay,” you say, giving a weak nod.

“Thank you. Feel better soon, okay?”

Julie gives you and Wally a final glance over. Having determined you’ll be more than fine in Wally’s care, she bids her goodbyes and skips off to help the rest of your neighbours.

“Ha ha ha,” laughs Wally. “Julie is a good friend. I’m lucky to have her in my life.”

You look sideways at Wally. He catches your eye, and dips his head in a nod. “I feel the same way about you,” he says.

The question is implied in his voice - a little waver at the edge of his words.

“Wally…I don’t really understand what happened today,” you say. “But…I know it doesn’t change how much I like you."

The beam that dawns on Wally’s face is so wide, it almost cracks in two. “Thank you,” he whispers.

You can’t help but return the grin. “Thank you for being vulnerable with me.”

Wally lets go of your arm, and turns to face you properly. He reaches up one hand, and then hesitates, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours as if pondering a question.

Finally, Wally leans in and gives you a small, gentle kiss on the cheek. You inhale sharply, your arms hanging limply by your side and your fingers curling into questioning shapes. His mouth is plush and downy, and the impression of his lips sends a toasty-sweet feeling rocketing through your body.

When Wally pulls back, his yellow skin is dusted pink about his cheeks.

“Always know,” he says softly, “that I love you very much.”

Then, he’s leaving. You watch in stunned silence as Wally’s back retreats into the distance, making his way to join the throng of your neighbours. A slight rumble in the distance makes you look up: a cluster of thunderclouds gather at the edge of the Neighbourhood, fat with the promise of rain.

You touch your lips gently, and smile. Then, you retreat inside the safety of your home…with the warm memory of Wally’s kiss playing in your mind, and static still buzzing in your fingers.

#wally darling x reader #wally darling x you #wally darling #welcome home #welcome home arg #julie joyful #frank frankly #eddie dear #poppy partridge #barnaby b. beagle #sally starlet #howdy pillar #starleskawrites #welcome home fic

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

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I'm not sure if you listened, if not you should it's so funny!

but could you do the reader on Jill's scotts coffee club podcast with georgia, leah and keira when leah whips out the cake? x

decided to make this a lowkey stanners x williamson!reader cause i love gee and she's underrated

colin the caterpillar II g.stanway

"-williamson i see you loitering about! get in here!" you looked up as you heard the ever familiar booming voice of one jill scott gesture you over. you caught georgia's eye as her and keira swiveled their heads, furiously waving you over to join them on the sofa, the set for jills podcast randomly plonked in the middle of the indoor training pitch.

"have you still got media duties babe?" your girlfriend asked, moving the microphone away from her mouth and you shook your head. "right in you come then!" keira moved over and patted the space in between her and georgia.

"is this live?" you asked as you took a seat, flashing a grin at jill and ben as you settled yourself on the sofa, your girlfriends spare arm coming to settle on your shoulders. "-and now we are joined by one of the worlds greatest strikers!" jill started, doing a drum roll on her knees.

"-but unfortunately alessia russo has been dodging my calls so we've had to settle for y/n williamson, round of applause please!" jill joked as you playfully rolled your eyes at the dig, showered in claps from the small crowd around you.

"you know you've never asked me on this show jilly, what happened to being your favourite williamson?" you tutted, one of the production assistants hurrying over to give you a mic.

"i had to keep that under wraps, had to suck up to the captain you know!" jill winked as you grinned, leaning a little more into georgia and crossing your legs. "jill might be the best suck up with the worst success rate we've ever met." keira announced as you and georgia hummed in agreement, ben egging you on to continue.

"she sucked up to sarina and the training team so much during the euros man. she'd be getting drinks, recounting plays, grabbing everyone gels-" you laughed at the memory. "-but then georgia could be on her death bed with cramp and jill would still stay on the bench." keira finished, jill agreeing as you all laughed along.

"oh no sorry interruption cause leah's just bought a colin the caterpillar!" keira gasped as she spotted your sister wandering close by with her birthday cake in hand. "go on birthday girl in you come!" you called out as she came closer, jill eagerly agreeing she sit down.

"cmere love." georgias hands found your waist, tugging you up to sit sideways on her lap as keira shuffled across and leah plonked herself down on the end, your legs half draped over keira as georgias hands wound themselves round your waist protectively and she softly kissed the back of your neck.

you were aware parts of the podcast were filmed but neither of you were bothered, it had hardly been the worlds best kept secret the two of you were seeing one another.

georgias instagram was almost like a shrine to you at this point. the two of you both playing for bayern, much to your north london blooded sisters disgust, you spent everyday together and only fell more and more in love as time passed.

"can we eat it?" georgia asked with a gasp as leah nodded, cracking open the box and gently sliding out the childhood favourite. "i think surely i win best sister for gettin her that?" you clapped for yourself, everyone joining in but leah who rolled her eyes.

"no cause you gave it to me after you smashed a cupcake in my literal eye at breakfast!" leah huffed, handing over the cake to keira after she took a large. "it was your forehead leah honestly! you win most dramatic." you countered, the blonde leaning over to smack your leg for the comment as you grinned.

"now now girls play nice play nice!" jill laughed, re-directing the conversation as keira snapped you off a section of cake which you accepted, happily smashing a large portion into your mouth before holding it over your shoulder for your girlfriend to do the same.

"ah i've never been so happy." georgia sighed contently as the two of you took turns munching away at the chocolate cake. "babe thats my finger!" you smacked her with a yelp as the girl got a little too eager and bit your finger among the cake.

"sorry love, no one's safe when there's a colin round." georgia kissed your cheek in apology, happily accepting more of the cake from keira as your sister offered you her piece, grinning as you snapped off the ears with your teeth just like you'd both been brought up to.

"well this is definitely a highlight of the season. four of englands finest just sat here eating a caterpillar like an apple." ben sighed jokingly as the four of you giggled to yourselves, you leaning back into georgia and clutching your stomach as keira took a large bite right from the middle without a care in the world.

"lee five second rule!" you pointed, voice muffled by the large mouthful of cake shoved in it as your sister scrambled to pick up the piece which fell on the floor, blowing on it and popping it into her mouth with a grin.

"now i know this is audio but for the listeners at home they are literally just picking this cake up and shoving it in their mouth!" jill recounted, shaking her head at the sight. "they're eating it like its a hotdog or something!" ben added on as georgia fed you one of the legs with a giggle.

"that foot was incredible." you mumbled out with a happy sigh, still chewing on it as keira smacked your leg in agreement, opening her mouth to show you she also had one in her mouth as your head fell onto georgias shoulder, again clutching your stomach in laughter.

"imagine if sarina see's this that would be so good. we're over here talking about elite performance-" "-elite performance and now we're just picking up a caterpillar without a care-" "-yeah thats it girls, just shove it in your mush!"

"i eat a kitkat before every game anyway." you shrugged, bending down and snapping off another foot from the half in keiras hands. "do you really?" ben asked in surprise.

"she does! she's done it since she was little, used to throw tantrums like you wouldn't believe when our mum tried to stop her." leah smirked at the memory. "i really did. i'd just find out where she hid them and steal one, i'm too fast to catch anyway once she realised." you grinned once you'd swallowed your mouthful of cake.

"i always leave one in her boots for her to find when she's getting ready now at bayern. you should have seen how much crap she copped her first game, no one could believe she was eating a kitkat before her debut." georgia laughed as you fondly patted her knee.

"i run faster when i've had chocolate!" you shrugged, shovelling another mouthful of cake in as everyone laughed. "i mean the proofs in the pudding there wasn't a euros match i didn't see you not have one and you scored about ten goals!" jill laughed.

"could probablys run a 10K marathon right now, light work!" you teased with cake mushed in your mouth and a cheeky grin, georgia kissing your cheek with a smile as you used your thumb to wipe away some loose chocolate from the corner of her mouth before licking it off your finger with a wink.

"right i'm off!" leah announced a short moment later, standing to her feet and brushing the crumbs off her knee's. "am i taking it?" she gestured to the few small pieces left, packing it up at her friends nods.

"well. he were bloody lovely weren't he!"

#georgia stanway x reader #woso x reader #woso #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso blurbs #engwnt #woso imagine #woso fanfics #georgia stanway #keira walsh x reader #keira walsh

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totaly-obsessed · 1 year ago

Text

The Great British Bake Off

Leah Williamson x reader blurb

-> Reader and Leah have too many cakes to handle and feed the Arsenal girls

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“Uhmmm, do you have a new hobby?”

Lia was quite confused when Leah entered the Arsenal cafeteria where most of the team was currently having breakfast.

You see, Lia’s question was warranted. It is not every day that you see the Leah Williamson carry more cakeboxes than you would think she could. “Nah. Not me.” And with that, the Swiss knew the answer – you, her teammate's girlfriend must have gotten bored while injured.

Turns out that playing football is quite hard with a broken leg – watching the great British bake off, however? Works wonderfully. And while you probably will not make a realistic burger cake any time soon, you were quite good at the easier cakes.

However, there was only so much cake a two-person household could eat, so the next best solution was to visit Leah’s family. And while Amanda was very thankful for the cakes and the nice afternoon you had all spent together, she did not need five more of them. She had however taken a batch of cupcakes that she would distribute at work – guaranteeing you, that everyone would love them.

After a little consideration, it was decided that you would join Leah at training that Monday, which is why she was carrying the cakes.

“Where is she then?” You could hear Katie’s booming voice as you limped down the unnecessary long hallway to the cafeteria. “Oh she’s here, don’t ya worry your pretty little head, McCabe!”

It was Beth who was the first at your side, helping you to the chair next to Leah and taking care of your crutches for you.

Alessia came stumbling towards you, a big dopey grin on her face “My favorite Williamson!” and with that, she tumbled over, taking an empty chair with her.

“Careful Less, otherwise you might be the next one with crutches.” A deep blush overtook her cheeks, “Yes, Mom.” While you certainly were not Alessia’s mother, you had taken on the role of an older sister when she had played in Chelsea’s youth academy where you had coached a couple of years ago before switching to Arsenal’s academy after meeting Leah.

While you liked playing, coaching gave you a little more of a kick – shaping young players and helping them discover themselves. But that clearly did not work with a broken leg.

“So… Cake anybody?” There was no hesitation, all the girls just digging straight in – no forks or anything.

Collin the Caterpillar style.

“Leah, no cake for you?” Kyra’s mouth was barely empty as she nudged the older player. “Nah, think I’ve eaten my weight in cake this week.”

“No problem with that.” Jonas joined the girls and sat down right next to Stina and Lina, his fellow Swedes.

“Ooh! That reminds me – Leah had me that box!” Your girlfriend did as you had requested, handing you the box while bowing forwards “Yes – my queen.”

You ignored her jab in favor of opening the box with as much drama as you could “Tada! Prinsesstårta!”

Boom.

Four excited Swedes practically thew themselves on the cake – Jonas leading the pack, followed by Stina, Amanda, and Lina. “What even is that?”

“Just the best thing in the entire world.” Stina tried to swat away Katie’s hands as she prodded at her piece of tårta.

“It’s a sponge cake base topped with vanilla pastry cream and fluffy whipped cream – Sweden’s national cake.”

Leah, the proud Brit that she was immediately set back the piece she had taken out “Sweden? Why not the UK, baby? You are British baby.”

“No, I’m not Leah – I’m German.”

#woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc x reader #woso #engwnt x reader #woso imagines #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #lionesses x reader

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bednbunfast · 10 months ago

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•— REQUEST #1

YOU,,, do not feed my brainrot... you..!! /aff

thank you,, for the silly request I made shmilk bend down to catpi's kissing range nyes nyes,,, they are so cute...

-----•

Caterpillar Cookie is my oc..! Shadow Milk Cookie is obv owned by Devsis...

-----•

#🧁 | cupcakes #🍰 | shortcakes #🐛 |l caterpillar cookie #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run kingdom oc #cookie run oc #crk #crk oc #shadow milk cookie

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holylulusworld · 6 months ago

Text

The assistant (11) - Heating pads and cupcakes

Summary: You are invisible most of the time.

Pairing: Former!Boss!Steve Rogers x Former!Assistant(plussized)!Reader

Possible pairing: Jake Jensen x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader, Curtis Everett x Reader, Ari Levinson x Reader, Andy Barber x Reader, Mike Weiss x Reader, Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Warnings: flirty CEvans characters, language, plus-sized/chubby reader, protective brothers, Lloyd being Lloyd, arguments, brothers being brothers, fluff, caring brother

A/N: I was on my period while writing this. So, I would like you to please bear with me.

The assistant masterlist

The assistant (10) - Apologies

“Tell me, sugar. How did you meet my brothers?” Ransom sits on one of the chairs at the kitchen counter to watch you, Jake and Mike make breakfast for the hungry pack.

“Do not talk to Y/N,” Jake warns. “I don’t know why Andy even called you. We can handle Captain Asshole on our own.”

“Captain Turd,” Lloyd corrects while walking inside the kitchen. “I think I established the name yesterday.” He grins at Steve who sits at the kitchen table. Steve sips the coffee from the café around the corner and tries to stomach the dry bagel he bought.

“Boys, play nice,” you tut and point the spatula at Lloyd. “We do not fight within these walls. Lloyd, that goes for you too. Have a seat. Coffee is ready and we are almost done preparing breakfast.”

“Uh-huh,” Lloyd plops down on the seat closest to you. “You’re wearing my apron.” He grins.

“Yeah, I figured that this must be yours,” you roll your eyes as he grins like a madman.

“Kiss the cook, he wears a mustache?” Ransom huffs and shakes his head. “That mustache looks stupid on you, Lloyd. Almost as if a caterpillar died on your upper lip.”

“Kiss my ass,” Lloyd snarls in Ransom’s direction.

“Eat shit!” Ransom retorts.

“Guys,” you clap your hands. “We have a busy day ahead. Thanks to the drama you caused yesterday, I agreed to let Captain Rogers stay another day. He didn’t get the chance to see anything but a bunch of idiots fighting each other.”

“Idiots?” Lloyd pouts. “I'm not an idiot. Andy started this. It’s not my fault my brother is an idiot.”

“Lloyd, we do not punch people, and we don’t call them idiots,” you tut. “I told you, no more fighting or I’ll hide your expensive mustache wax for a week. Your mustache will be all fuzzy without it.”

“Cupcake, did you steal my wax?” Lloyd gapes at you. “I didn’t take you for a thief, missy. You better not make it a habit.” He looks at you wearing his apron. “Or make it a habit. I like me a bad girl.”

“She’s got a very good lawyer on her side,” Andy casually walks inside the kitchen. He’s hiding the bruises his brother caused with a brand-new shirt and tie. “I will leave for a few hours. I trust you to not kill each other.”

Lloyd glares at his brother Ransom before he says, “I can’t promise anything. You brought this piece of shit into our house.”

“Lloyd!” He made it. You hand the spatula to Mike, asking him to watch the last pancake to round the kitchen island and slap Lloyd’s ass. He yelps but purrs your name. “No swear words at our home, Lloyd!”

“Our…home!” Jake, Mike, Lloyd, Ari, Andy, and Curtis who just walked inside the kitchen, stare at you in awe. They smile, and then, you end up wrapped in too many pairs of arms.

“GUYS! I can’t breathe!” You protest but it's no use. You get hugged again and again until you feel dizzy.

“Hey, what’s your role in this drama?” Ransom turns around to look at Steve while his brothers are all over you. “Damn, aren’t you Captain America?” He slides off his chair to get a better look at Steve sulk in a corner. “Wait…what is Captain America doing here?”

“They kidnapped my assistant,” Steve grumbles while watching you hug the brothers, one after another. They laugh and joke while exclaiming that you accepted their home as your own.

“Ah, I see,” Ransom nods thoughtfully. “So, you’re unwanted here too, huh?” He grins. “Hmmm…you know. My grandmother always bragged about being related to Captain America. She was a crazy old hag, but I cannot deny you are a spitting image of my grandfather.”

“What are you mumbling about over there?” Curtis didn’t forget about Ransom’s intrusion. He’s still up to give his brother a good beating. “I see, two assholes found each other during desperate times.”

You huff. “Curtis! No swear words! We talked about swear words and impulse control last night.”

“Sorry, Sunshine,” Curtis drops his gaze and sighs. If only he’d got a few minutes alone with Ransom. He’d give his treacherous brother a few more punches.

“I get that having your brother back is scary and opened old wounds. But, you should be happy to have him in your life,” you sniffle. “You don’t get a person you love back so easily.”

“Great, now you made her cry,” Andy wraps you in his arms and runs his hand up and down your back. “They’re stubborn but will behave from now on. I promise.”

“I’m only a little emotional,” you choke out a sob. “I’m on…” You shake your head. The brothers don’t need to know that you’re on your period and almost everything makes you cry. “I saw that cat video…and the cat was so cute and…then you argued... and Mike looked like the lost kitten…It made me so happy…”

“Crap,” Lloyd snaps his fingers to get his brothers' attention. “Alright! Red alert. I repeat. Red alert.”

“What now?” Curtis rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics. “What’s wrong with you?”

Lloyd turns his head toward Curtis. “You, stop sulking and get my wallet.” Lloyd snaps at Curtis before pointing at Mike and Jake. “You two, search for any movie on any platform Y/N will like.”

He crosses his arms behind his back and marches around the kitchen. “Barber don’t get too cozy with her but keep on rubbing her back. Ari, you and Curtis will go to the bakery. We will close for the rest of the week. Get all the cupcakes and shit Jake baked. We’ll need it.”

“What’s going on?” Ransom watches his brothers hastily follow Lloyd’s order. “Where’s the fire?”

“In Y/N’s uterus. Now shut up, pretty boy, and be useful for once,” Lloyd mutters at his brother. “If you want to stay, you’ll go to the guestroom in the west wing and get me all the fluffy pillows and a warm blanket. No, make it two.”

Ransom purses his lips. He weighs his options. If he wants to be part of this family again, he must play along for now. “Fine.”

“Y/N. Cupcake,” Lloyd gently pats your hair. “What’s your favorite brand? Do you need a heating pad? What painkiller do you prefer? Lloyd will get you all you’ll need.”

Steve watches the brothers make of fuzz about your period. He rubs his chin, wondering if what he feels is more than worry.

“Good job everyone!”

Lloyd grins as you snuggle into one of the fluffy pillows. You’re wearing one of Andy’s warm sweaters and the fuzzy socks Jake got for you. Ari wrapped a warm blanket around you after Lloyd carefully put a heating pillow on your lower abdomen.

Mike chose the movies you and the brothers will watch while Andy and Jake prepared food, beverages, and sweets. Curtis is currently massaging your feet while Ransom sits on the other end of the huge U-shaped sofa.

“How do you feel, Sweetie? Do you feel better?” Jake sits next to your head to gently pat your hair. Do you need anything else?”

“Did I buy the right stuff?” Lloyd asks. He sits on the sofa and stretches his legs out. “Damn, I didn’t know there are so many lady products out there.”

“I’m good,” you murmur and snuggle further into the pillow. The brothers took very good care of you. No one ever put so much into making you feel good. “See, if you work together, you can do anything.”

“So…this is what you do? Getting lady products and feeding a sexy girl with cupcakes,” Ransom grins. “I think I could get used to this…”

“No one asked you,” Curtis huffs. He’s still angry at Ransom for leaving them. Especially, because he used to look up Ransom when he was a kid. Curtis and Ransom shared a special bond, and now, it's broken.

“No more fighting tonight,” Andy stops the brothers from arguing again. “We have a plan, don’t we.” He subtly points at Steve watching you and the brothers from his seat. He chose to sit on an armchair, still not convinced that the brothers did not mean harm to you.

Ransom stares at Steve. He rubs his chin and wonders aloud. “Back to Captain America. Isn’t it odd that he looks so much like Grandfather Steven?”

Part 12

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #lloyd hansen #curtis everett #ari levinson #andy barber #jake jensen #ransom drysdale #mike weiss #The assistant (11) - Heating pads and cupcakes #chubby reader #plussized reader

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