#i need to go lie face down in the grass or something

[jesterguy]

Feeling Most Unwell

[miraeism]

god i hate money

[xo100]

Golf - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: In Portugal, Lando Norris, Max Fewtrell, and Max’s girlfriend Pietra go golfing, with Pietra’s single friend (you) tagging along. You struggle with the game, prompting Lando to offer hands-on lessons.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1298

୨ৎ

The warm Portuguese sun bathed the lush green golf course, casting soft shadows over the rolling hills. The faint scent of freshly cut grass filled the air as the group of four made their way towards the first hole. Lando Norris, Max Fewtrell, his girlfriend Pietra, and Pietra’s friend—a single woman, fresh-faced and smiling despite her clear inexperience with golf—walked together, laughter bubbling up between them as they teased one another.

Pietra nudged Max playfully as he adjusted his glove, “You know you're only here to look pretty while you lose, right?”

Max scoffed. “We’ll see who loses when I sink this birdie.”

Lando laughed, shaking his head as he carried his golf bag. His eyes, however, kept straying to the woman walking beside Pietra—you. You had been quiet at first, observing the banter between the group, but it didn’t take long for you to find your rhythm. Your natural charm had won the guys over quickly, but it was Lando who seemed most intrigued by you.

You were unsure about this whole golfing thing; you’d never played a round in your life. But when Pietra had invited you to join them on this trip, the allure of sunny Portugal and new adventures was impossible to resist. Plus, you weren’t going to lie—spending time around Lando was hardly a bad thing.

After the first few holes, it became obvious that you were, well, not the best golfer. You swung the club a few times, and while your effort was there, the technique... not so much. Your ball either went nowhere, or far off course. Each miss was followed by giggles from Pietra and lighthearted teasing from Max.

“You’ve got this,” Pietra grinned, leaning on Max’s arm, as you tried yet again.

Your swing was way off. The ball barely moved. You cringed, immediately breaking into laughter.

“That’s it,” Lando said with a mischievous smile, stepping forward. “Time for a lesson.�� His eyes sparkled with something more than just amusement, his dimpled grin sending a flutter through your stomach.

You raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t stop the smile pulling at your lips. “Oh? You’re going to teach me how to golf?”

“Well, someone’s got to save you from yourself.” He gave you a teasing wink, his accent rolling off his words in a way that made your heart skip. “Max certainly won’t.”

Max snorted, raising his hands. “I’m no teacher. Good luck, mate.”

You shook your head, amused, but when Lando stood next to you, a little closer than necessary, you felt a warmth rise in your cheeks. He placed his hands over yours, adjusting your grip on the club. His touch was firm, but not forceful, guiding rather than instructing.

“First, you need to relax,” Lando said softly, his voice close to your ear. “You’re too tense.”

You swallowed, feeling your pulse quicken at the proximity. His body was warm, his presence so magnetic that you were barely able to focus on his words. You could feel his breath against your skin as he adjusted your arms, moving them into position. He leaned in a little more, close enough that the scent of his cologne filled your senses.

“Like this,” Lando murmured, his hands guiding the motion. He stood behind you, his chest lightly brushing your back, and for a moment, you forgot you were supposed to be learning how to golf.

The rest of the group had quieted, either lost in their own conversation or deliberately giving the two of you space. Pietra, ever the romantic, watched with a knowing smile.

“Okay,” Lando continued, still guiding your movements. “Now, on three, swing. One… two… three.”

Together, you swung, and to your surprise, the ball sailed smoothly across the grass, not far, but far better than any of your previous attempts.

You turned, eyes wide. “I did it!”

Lando grinned down at you, pride in his expression. “See? It’s all in the technique.”

You laughed, a little embarrassed but mostly happy. “I guess I just needed the right teacher.”

He gave you a playful nudge with his elbow. “Or maybe I’m just that good.”

The flirting between you and Lando was subtle, woven into each shared glance and teasing comment. It wasn’t overt, but the tension between you was undeniable. Every time his hand brushed yours as he handed you the club, or when his fingers lingered on your back as he showed you the proper stance, it sent little sparks through your skin.

“Okay, let’s try again,” Lando said, stepping back into position behind you. This time, his touch was more casual, but it still held that underlying tension that made your pulse race.

You swung again, and though the ball didn’t fly as far, it still went in the right direction.

Lando gave a mock sigh. “Guess I’ll have to stick with you for the rest of the day. You’re not ready to be let loose just yet.”

“Is that so?” You shot him a playful look, fully aware of how close he was standing to you. “And here I thought I was getting better.”

“You are,” he said, his voice soft and sincere. “You’re just not ready to leave the pro yet.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his confidence, but something about the way he looked at you made the laughter die on your lips, replaced by a different kind of awareness.

-

The day went on like that, filled with stolen glances, light touches, and gentle teasing. The others gave you space, Max and Pietra happily absorbed in their own world, but there was a sense that everyone knew something was happening between you and Lando.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden hues over the course, the group decided to call it a day. Max and Pietra walked ahead, leaving you and Lando lingering behind, still chatting quietly.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Lando asked, his eyes catching yours as you strolled beside him, golf clubs slung over your shoulders.

You shrugged, smiling. “Not bad at all. But I don’t think I’ll be challenging you to a game anytime soon.”

“Maybe we could practice again,” he suggested, his tone light, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. “I could give you some more lessons.”

There it was again—the tension, the unspoken something that had been building all day. You felt your heart race, your stomach doing little flips at the idea of spending more time with him. Alone.

“I think I’d like that,” you said, your voice soft as you looked up at him.

Lando’s smile widened, his dimple showing once again. Without thinking, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary.

Neither of you moved for a moment, the world around you seeming to fade as the connection between you intensified. You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, you were standing even closer, the air between you charged with possibility.

“Lando,” you whispered, unsure of what to say next, your heart beating fast in your chest.

But before you could say more, Max’s voice rang out from ahead. “Oi! You two lovebirds coming or what?”

You both jumped back, laughing at the interruption, though the moment wasn’t lost. Lando’s hand found yours for a brief second, giving it a gentle squeeze before he let go, his eyes promising that this wasn’t the end of whatever was brewing between you.

“Yeah, we’re coming,” Lando called back, a grin on his face.

As you made your way back to the group, your heart felt light, your cheeks warm from more than just the sun. Golf might not have been your game, but Lando—Lando was a whole different story.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, I hope y’all enjoyed! Also a BIG thank you for all the love on one of my last story; Lazy mornings!

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ requiem of a cringe

did something embarrassing last night and was like "I need to go crawl in a hole and die. OR I could write"

type of post: blurbs characters: cater, rook, jack, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral (the term "damsel in distress" is used in vil's part, but it's meant to be teasing and not indicative of the reader's gender), reader is yuu, rook is rook

I. Talks Too Much

It's not that you're trying to be annoying.

Your mouth simply moves faster than your mind, and before you know it, you've been talking for twenty uninterrupted minutes about... well... nothing.

You always notice that uncomfortable, irritated look on their face just after you're done. And then you keep rambling in an attempt to make it less awkward (it never does).

And now you're here, hiding in the hedge maze outside Heartslabyul, thinking about getting lost and never coming out of it.

Of course, if anyone were to find you now, it'd be him.

"Hey, hon~ you busy?"

"Please, not now, Cater," you mutter.

The boy stills, looking a little taken aback by how miserable you sound.

"Are you still upset about that thing at the Unbirthday Party? That was hours ago, babe! I bet no one even remembers,"

You physically cringe. The faces of your uncomfortable tablemates won't seem to leave your memory...

"I remember it," you murmur, burying your face in your hands. "I'm so annoying."

For once, Cater is quiet. A minute goes by, and you think he may have left, until you hear the grass crunching under his knees as he kneels down and pulls you into a hug.

"You are not annoying. And even if you were, it'd only make me like you more," he mutters, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Understand?"

Your surprise at his change in tone doesn't stop you from hugging back. "Understood,"

You hadn't meant to say all of that.

You just spilled a potion you'd been working on for hours, and amidst your frustrated floor-scrubbing, you had vented about your entire week to your poor lab partner, a person you had been trying to impress all semester.

He had, gracefully, let you finish your rant, and then let you sit in it, just like the harmless potion now coating your knees as you cleaned up the floor.

Then, he awkwardly said: "That... sucks. I guess. I don't know what to say,"

There had probably never, in your whole life, been a person who looked more unhappy to be around you.

Afterwards, you found a nice spot in the woods behind campus to die.

You lie there, hoping nature would reclaim you before next alchemy class, when some purposefully loud rustling in the bushes catches your eye.

"Ah, Trickster! You really should not lie like that- a predator will take that as weakness, non? Are you injured?"

"Only my pride,"

"Talking about it will make you feel better," Rook says. It's more of a demand than a question.

You sigh. "I think I've done enough talking for... ever, actually,"

"Nonsense," he suddenly straddles your waist and pins your wrists to the earth. "I will not move until you tell me the problem, mon cœur."

You're like an animal in a snare. Once Rook has made up his mind, that's it. He will find out.

And so, with a sigh, you let him take the kill- that is, you tell him everything. Your whole, terrible week, the potion incident, the look on your lab partner's face...

When you're done, he's just. Smiling. "I see now. You are embarrassed,"

"Well... yes. You don't think that's embarrassing?"

He beams. "You are simply overflowing with beautiful emotion and passion for la vie! How could I ever find that embarrassing? You and I are not so different,"

In a weird way, that makes sense. Rook is never one to let shame hold him back from expressing his feelings.

He smiles at your pensive expression, and gives you a kiss on the head.

"Mais, next time you are upset, maybe you should come to me first, non?"

II. Clumsy

Forgetful, scatterbrained, oblivious, dimwitted are all words you've become used to hearing.

As well as a few colorful swears.

You have two left feet, even when you're not dancing- you're used to walking into walls, tripping, and dropping things- it just sucks that you have an audience now.

The first years that had gathered around the mess you made- tripping over your own feet and spilling the papers you were meant to deliver to Ace and Deuce all over the floor- are watching with grins and phones out.

You pretend they're not there, even with their taunts and whistles and laughter.

"Hey! Loitering is a waste of time!" someone barks. Literally.

You look up to see Jack moving through the crowd, scolding the other first years for blocking the hall.

When he sees you in the eye of the storm, on your hands and knees picking up your spilled papers, something upset takes his usually-stoic demeanor.

"What's the matter with you?!" he snarls at the boys. "Didn't anyone teach you any manners?! It's rude to stare- and laugh!"

His ears are flattened against his head when he kneels down beside you to help, collecting the papers, and putting them in your hands.

"Come on, we'll be late if you keep 'sittin there,"

Jack pulls you to your feet and gives one final snarl to the other first years before walking you off.

"...Thanks,"

"Eh? Don't mention it," he says. "Leona woulda had my tail if I just walked by..."

You know there's more to it than that, but you don't push. You're just happy he's forgotten to take his hand out of yours.

You can't handle being the center of attention.

For good reason, too- you're awkward, clumsy, and about the least graceful a person can get.

A true Ugly Duckling at a place like NRC. But Vil Schoenheit sees the swan in you. Perhaps that's why he's always been so patient and sweet.

It's a little distracting.

So much is obvious when he waves at you in the hall and, distracted by his smile, you walk right into a wall.

Though you can't see anything but stars after falling on your butt, the stares and snickers of everyone else are hard to miss.

Vil glares them away with a look that could kill twice over, and then stands over you as you lay on the floor.

"Come on," he says, holding out a hand. "I'll check you for concussion."

He brings you to Pomefiore and sits you down, shooing off a few curious underclassmen as he checks your pupils. "Do you feel nauseous?"

"Not really,"

"Then you'll be fine. Just a bump. You really should be more careful, though,"

You've heard that one before. Vil smiles at your dazed expression, and presses a cold compress against your head.

"This will help with the swelling,"

"Thanks," you mutter, still a little out of it. "You're my hero."

His eyebrows raise in true surprise, and then he chuckles. "And that makes you a damsel in distress?"

He doesn't give you a chance to respond before taking away the compress and kissing the red mark on your head.

"Don't think that being so cute is going to distract me. I'll make some time for lessons on poise this weekend,"

III. Unsociable

You'd think that being quiet and staying out of people's ways would get them to leave you alone, but it really just attracts more attention.

And after a grueling period of your tablemates making you the butt of every joke ("wow, I didn't know you could even talk!" "are you quiet because you hate us? come onnn, you can tell me!") you were ready to bury yourself alive.

"I don't ever want to leave," You mumble into the bundle of sheets and blankets on Idia's unmade bed.

"You could stay, y'know," Idia says from his desk, mindlessly scrolling through some gaming forum. "I should blackmail Crowley into letting you stay down here at least half the year."

"Couldn't it be the whole?"

"Nah. You need like, sunlight and stuff,"

"And you don't?!"

Idia snickers. "I'm built different. You know that. I get all my nutrients from blue light... You could at least stay for the weekend, though,"

You roll your eyes.

"...And I'll leak those normies' data. I'm sure I could get into their browser histories and have that emailed to their parents,"

Hm. You genuinely consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to give mercy. You're basically a saint.

"I think I just wanna pretend like I don't exist right now,"

Idia nods in understanding and pushes his gaming chair over to the edge of the bed, before crawling in and wrapping himself around you.

"That can be done. Pancakes tomorrow?"

Sure, there were people who talked to you, but you didn't talk back.

You just don't know how, you suppose. Every time you try, you end up saying the wrong thing, or are accidentally rude, or do something embarrassing.

You don't understand the references people make. You don't get social cues or hints. You have the social skills of an oyster.

Four months at Night Raven College, and you didn't have a single friend.

Well- except for him.

"How are you enjoying your tea?" Malleus asks, polite and curt as ever.

You take another sip- it's tangy, sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Some sort of Briar Valley blend that Malleus had imported just for you.

"I really like it,"

He smiles. "I'm pleased,"

One of the things you find so agreeable about Malleus is his simplicity. He often says exactly what he means; albeit, in a sort of 13th century Lord sort of way.

There's less stress with him. You don't have to pretend to be interesting, or outgoing, or cool. You can just be... you.

Because he likes you.

"You know," you say with a faint smile. "You're so nice to me. Sometimes I think that you're the only person I need. I could be happy with just you for the rest of my life."

You had meant that casually, but when you look back up from your cup, Malleus has this... look.

Wide-eyed, his lips pressed firmly together. There's even a dusting of color on his cheeks.

"Oh," you internally panic. Was that too much? Was that weird? Did you make things awkward again? Crap, you should have just acted normal, what's wrong with you?! "S-sorry, I-"

"Do you truly mean that?"

You go quiet, looking back at him with wide eyes. Your heart is pounding against your chest.

"...Yes,"

Malleus hums, his expression becoming more... pensive, and then...

He smiles. "I feel the same. Shall we go for a walk while the night is still young?"

[valalice]

✮ YOU'LL ALWAYS BE A GAMEGIRL .ᐟ ft. 𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓶𝓼.

ʚɞ summary. a collection of streamer ellie headcanons.

warnings. streamer!ellie. modern au. fluff i guess? this is basically crack. ellie's chat can't give her a break. loser!ellie also if you so fancy it. talk about a strap on but it's nothing serious. ellie fights with kids for a living. wc. 1.4k

a/n. and the crowd BOOO'S... i know, i know literally everyone to ever exist on this app has their own thoughts on streamer!ellie, but i thought it would be fun to do my own thoughts on her <3 remember to support your writers by reblogging & commenting !

m.list | tlou m.list

࿐ streamer!ellie who grew to stardom during quarantine. much like everyone else in the world she had a lot of time on her hands, so what's better than increasing her addiction to gaming and worsening her already bad eyesight by staring at a bright monitor in the dark? it's not like she had much school work (she did) to care about anyway.

࿐ streamer!ellie whose fan base are her biggest haters that always clown on her. many of the fans who have been around since the start still joke about younger ellie, ellie who was in high school and still cringe when she started streaming. “so, yeah i graduated college. that's the reason why there wasn't a stream on saturday.”

[user000] did you get a degree in loserology?

[user001] bro has a whole college degree and still streams 💀

“i’m talking about my accomplishments and you guys are clowning me!?"

࿐ streamer!ellie who succumbed and adopted a kitten a few years ago, a ginger one at that. her face lighting up when she realizes she has yet to introduce her son to chat. taking off her headset (for once) setting it down on her desk, “i’ll be right back, chat.” leaving her room to find where the small kitten could be.

when she comes back, she holds the small ginger puff of fur in her arms with a cheeky smile. taking the kitten in her hands and holding him to the webcam “say hello to little bro, chat. haven't named him yet, was thinking we could do a poll.”

it was best and worst decision ellie ever made adopting a cat. the best because she loves the little stinker. and the worst because anytime she's on the chat is filled with

[user002] DONTTT CAREEE WHERES RICK

[user003] show us the child

࿐ streamer!ellie who has the worst eyesight ever. she wears glasses and still squints whenever she has to read something in game or the chat.

࿐ streamer!ellie whose desk is some second hand desk she got years ago. it’s gone from place to place with her and chat jokes that it's her emotional support desk. it's often littered with pop cans, various wrappers, notebooks and sketchbooks, figurines, comic books, scratched up stickers, and guitar picks. if she's lost anything her best bet is that it's somewhere on her desk.

࿐ streamer!ellie who swears she's not a scaredy cat when playing horror games, but the moment she hears any sound she's freaking out “chat, you heard that right?” "I'M NOT GOING FUCKING INSANE!" and when out of nowhere her character is getting chased her voice will pitch a little higher “HE’S CHASING ME! HE’S CHASING ME!” when the character ultimately meets their doom she’ll deadpan the webcam, “that game wasn't even that scary.”

[user004] whatever you say bud

[user005] that clip of u screaming like a little girl says otherwise

[user006] now we all know who's dying first in a horror movie

࿐ streamer!ellie who starts to get an inflation of views on her streams from clips of her being posted on tiktok (her audios have gone viral a few times). and who rolls her eyes at all the ‘wuh luh wuh?’ comments, “is the sky blue? are there forks in the kitchen? is the grass green? i love women, women love me.”

[user007] women may have we in it but we do not love you

[user008] is the women in the room with us???

[user009] BRO NO NEED TO LIE WE KNOW U DONT PULL

࿐ streamer!ellie who's mic blows out the any time she screams from a game.

࿐ streamer!ellie who is genuinely so shit at shooting games. chat knows that within the first few minutes without a fail ellie will get shot and killed, yet they still get hyped as ellie gets focused on the game. and when she does get killed, her hands will come down crashing on her desk, causing her setup to shake before stretching out in her chair stretching, letting her hands come on top over her headset before falling down over her face.

[user010] just load up roblox bro

࿐ streamer!ellie who hits a milestone and decides to do those ‘letting my followers spend my money’ it's very short lived because chat is just as unhinged and chaotic as her. “why the fuck is there a maid’s costume? fuck no.” and when her eyes rake over the cart to see that someone added a strap harness and dildo, “YO CHAT? THE FUCK?”

[user011] now thats just sad

[user012] AINT NO WAY

[user013] guys stop being mean :/ we all know it's just going to collect dust and cobwebs :/

[user014] ellie bitchless williams

࿐ streamer!ellie who enjoys doing more laid back and casual streams like building lego sets or setting up a new action figure. she’s done quite a few cooking streams which all end in disaster, “chat is there a huge difference between baking power and baking soda?” “i don't give a fuck if i shouldn't be eating raw cake batter, salmonella fears me.” “uh, should the oven be smoking like that?”

[user015] can't believe i'm witnessing ellie burn down her place in real time

or even once in a blue moon an outside stream.

[user016] ayeeee the gremlin is out of its dungeon

[user017] how does it feel to see sunlight again?

࿐ streamer!ellie who rarely post besides the casual spam of her stories, but is somehow extremely chronically online.

࿐ streamer!ellie who got banned from her mic privileges in roblox and later completely banned. all because she has no self restraint when arguing with little kids, “your avatar is ugly.” some random kid would say, “yo daddy is ugly.” ellie would bite back. and when she finds herself in yet another shooter esc game and a kid thinks it's smart to say "your aim is butt!" ellie’s retaliation to the critique is “that's not what your mom said last night you little fucker!” then shooting the kid’s character.

[user018] kid sounds like he's 8 MAX

[user019] ellie desensitizing these kids young

[user020] TO A CHILDDDD?????

[user021] bro can only get a kill if it's a child

࿐ streamer!ellie who thinks all her jokes are knee slap worthy, but her chat couldn't be less phased.

[user022] pack it up

[user023] 🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅

࿐ streamer!ellie who met you in a lobby when she's coincidentally not streaming, her team needed one more player so she shot her shot, “uh, hey,” she's totally cool right now, her palm totally isn't sweating off of her mouse “would you like to join my team? we just need one more player.” and she plays it chill when you accept “cool, cool. thanks.” but afterwards she put herself on mute and jumped out of her chair, all while her phone is blowing up with text from the groupchat.

࿐ streamer!ellie who tells her chat about it the next time she streams. “had a pretty girl on my team. i've never seen her, but i don't need to. i know it in my soul, it's my spidey sense.”

[user024] u sure u weren't dreaming???

[user025] didn't happened unless we have proof

࿐ streamer!ellie who hopes she'd see you in another lobby, but in reality it's probably a few weeks or months before she notices your handle in a lobby again, but she's always on the lookout for it. and when she does she thanks whoever is out there that she's streaming. she's solo playing this time so there's no opportunity for her to be on a team with you again, but she swears she could ascend into the heavens when you giggle at her wishing you luck in the game, covering her face from her webcam to hide that her face is turning bright red, "good luck to you too."

[user026] we all know she needs it

[user027] OKAY ELLIEEEEEE WE SEE UR GAME

“chat, i’m threw the roof. calling it know we're winning this.” ellie in fact did not win. she yet again got killed in recorded time, by none other than you. she couldn't even be upset over it “pretty and talented, damn.”

[user028] bffr u were her easy kill

࿐ streamer!ellie who by the end of it you initiate a conversation with her “i would apologize for killing you, but i just couldn't help myself.” “oh no, no. it's no problem. i’m shit at this game, it's all good.” "well maybe you could get better if we play together more?” and chat could just see the wheels turning in ellie’s head “uh—” her voice fucking cracked, “shit, yeah!” realizing she's getting a little too excited, so she's gotta tone it down “that would be cool.” smoothing a sweaty hand on her sweats. to say her chat explodes is an understatement.

[user029] WE ARE WITNESSING HISTORY

[user030] WINNERS LOVE WINNING

[user031] U BETTER DUST OFF THAT STRAP!!!!

[lustlovehart]

Prologue Chapter, Beginnings

A/n: Non of the main cast are in this piece, this is just the prologue before the real writing starts buuut they are mentioned if that counts?

Pairing: Monster!Twst x Reader, Ft. Rollo Flamme & Crowley (Voice only).

Summary: Getting rid of things that go bump in the night has always been your job, yet, when the time comes to finally kill them, you can’t bring yourself to do it. Such mistakes, will return their grievances in full, and you’re now made to pay the price of letting monsters continue to live their wretched lives.

Warnings: Bruising, and like maybeeee hints of posseviness?? That’s it though.

Hands, dozens, are maybe more? So many words are being whispered into your ear as each finger practically possesses your body with a desperation akin to hunger.

A snake wraps around your arm, a gargoyle looks down at you, and heat encased your body until it practically swallows you, yet it feels like you're drowning at the same time when sand pours on you. You don’t know what any of it is signaling to you, you’re not even sure if you wish to understand.

“Off with their head!” “Let the tall grass swallow you.” “The deep isn’t so scary when you know what’s in it.” “Wishes are deceiving.” “Reach your full potential here” “… These joints, I can’t stop.” “Is it so bad to sleep in this castle with us?”

These voices sound scarily familiar. Yet, you don’t recall any of their voices despite feeling like you know them on some basis. You don’t move, even when one hand intertwines with your own as if you were a prize to be won, a want or need they must have.

A feint mantra of your name reaches out to you in your dream, a savior from this purgatory. But… there’s something wrong, their attempt to save you, is shrouded in danger. Even when their hand reaches to break you out, the under lying feeling of dread spreads through your body.

Whoever is saving you, is hiding something from you—

“[Name].” Your figure is quick to jump awake, your eyes immediately going blind from the morning sun shining through your windows. When you turn, you’re immediately met with Rollo at your bedside, a cup of tea and warm food in his palm. “Did you plan to sleep in?” It’s typical for him to invite himself into your home, it’s not like you’re opposed anyhow, he feeds you for free, and even cleans your house. When you told him why you don’t feel worry when he enters your abode, he compared you to a wild raccoon. “With your job, you should be more… precise…” his eyes had trailed down from your face to your arm.

His hand slowly gravitates towards you, ringed finger slowly tracing above your skin before grabbing onto you. If you were fully awake, you would’ve questioned why such a small action… was so sensual.

Alas, you’re still tired.

“Pray tell,” lifting the appendage into view, he reveals what it was that caught his attention, “How did you get… These?” Dark bruises have flourished into your skin. “I hope you didn’t lie about going to sleep early.”

“Wha…? I didn’t, I swear. I don’t know what these are…” he eyes you with suspicion before deciding against interrogation. Though that’s always the case, he has a habit of letting go of whatever you say or do with only a slap on the wrist.

“Well, I hope, it doesn’t matter. You’re going to have a very eventful couple of months, Crowley is sending us off for work again,” he takes a seat next to your bedside, patting your lap down to flatten your blanket before setting a tray down with your breakfast. “He says you’re going to those places. ” Before you even have the chance to drink, you’re already putting down the tea, looking back at him in utter confusion.

“… Hah?”

If he’s being truthful, which, he always is, unfortunately, those areas are notorious amongst people of your occupation, said to have the most violent of fiends.

And… Crowley is sending… you??

“I argued with him not to let you go. Jack was very adamant about not letting that happen either. In fact… He seemed more determined than me. Which is a cause for concern.”

“That is concerning… I only have room for one overbearing partner.” His face goes sour at your poorly placed joke, like some miscreant he’s met on the street, rather than one of the few people he doesn’t mind talking to. His expression quickly softens once more when he remembers who it is that said the joke, you “Sorry…”

“The point is, You’re going there, alone.” He emphasizes the word heavily, as if he really needed to remind you just how dire your situation is.

Alone. The words echo through your room like an unspoken curse, condemned to feed your suffrage. If you’re going to be alone, there’s no doubt you’ll go mad from solitude, void of communication for months.

In your state of conflict, a sharp pang is felt in your neck, as if a blade had gone through your skin and cut off all feeling from your body. A sense of foreboding makes your worry only increase.

“Eat now before you leave.” The feeling is gone as quickly as it came. You look back to Rollo, you wonder why Rollo goes out of his way to do what he does for you. He’s a nice distraction from the dreams that cling to your consciousness.

So is Jack… he's kind to you too.

He was stationed in Sunset Savana if you’re correct. Maybe you’ll see him again when you travel to the second location…

You’re pulled out of your trance when the warm feeling of tea dripping down the corner of your mouth is felt, Rollo, being the culprit as he forces you to drink the beverage. “I said eat now.”

You would’ve pinched him if it weren’t for how tired you were, all is forgiven when he wipes the drink from your jaw with that prized handkerchief of his.

The rocky terrain of the floor annoys you to no end, with each step you take a small pebble flies off somewhere to the side. Considering Crowley instructed you to be stealthy, you probably shouldn’t be flinging things around. You don’t care though, you keep doing it the thought of Crowley might’ve increased how much force you put into your kicks.

“Rules must be followed, I don’t appreciate those who don’t obey.”

A chill goes down your spine. Those words are so familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve heard them before…

Before you can keep dwelling on the disembodied memory, you’re suddenly struck by the unfortunate reminder of Crowley, and 7 high-class missions.

7 missions he’s barely compensating you for.

“Greedy bird…” Honestly, you only accept the transfer under Crowley because of Crewel. Your former boss may have been strict, but at least he paid you well and made you somewhat okay with your job. The thought makes you reminisce of simpler times before the sound of a crow echoes through the sky, and a scroll drops on the path in front of you.

You recognize it, it’s a special communicator used among hunters, it’s a bit outdated, but Crowley is insistent on using it. You kneel bunching the paper in your hand, unraveling the parchment.

It’s Crowley. You toss it away. The paper comes back to your feet, freakishly bouncing on the dirt. He’s calling again, and you throw the paper away again. He won’t stop coming back.

“Leave me alone” He’s your boss, you don’t exactly treat him like one though. Knowing the lack of people in the job field, you not dying on the first week of work is rare, making you an asset he can’t just throw away, so in revenge for every act of greed he commits, you return him the attitude of a snarky employee.

Along with that, you’re still spiteful that he made you do this alone rather than with someone like Rollo or Jack.

“Wait! Wait! Don’t hang up! After all my generosity you continue to disregard me, your own boss no less–!”

The sound of paper beginning to tear immediately sets the sheet to panic mode, aggressively shaking to avoid being ripped to shreds.

“Stop, Stop! I have something to tell you about your job, so don’t you dare, little one!” Chances are, he can sense your disappointment on the other side of the line, the both of you simultaneously sighing before he continues the rest of his talk. “Those seven locations, you don’t have to kill them, running them out of the area is all you’re required to do” You pause for a moment, moving off your intended path into a forest. Your connection gets a little choppy, but if it means you don’t have to listen to him anymore, it might be worth it.

“Run them out only? Are you sure that’s all I have to do, don’t we usually kill them?”

“Yes typically but, it seems our dear commissioners only asked to be rid of them, now why would we hunt them when we’re not being paid? That would just be a waste of time.” Your side is completely silent after his statement, concerned hellos beginning to leave Crowley's side of the paper.

“… So you’re stingy.”

“Not stingy! But, we are a business.” You leave him at that, not wanting to draw out an already lengthy conversation. “So, are you ready for your next assignment, little birdie?”

“Unlike you, I’m not cheap so,” snickers are heard from your boss, instead of a retort to such a blow, all he says is a smug “oh?” before the rest of your words spill. “I’ll really get rid of them. For the people.”

You had intended to waste time before heading to your first job, but luck isn’t on your side, as it turns out your off-course path was an accidental shortcut.

Crowley isn’t talking anymore, you must’ve lost connection. You quickly tear the paper in sweet relief… that’s short-lived. Your eyes are magnetized to the sign in front of the eroded building.

“Heartslaybul Hospital” a tinier sign in the corner with sloppy handwriting, which you can only assume to be from a child reads, “For wonderful and rule-abiding patients only!”

You take one glance back at where you came from, your last chance to truly walk away, before heading inside.

When you look back at it after finishing all 7 locations, you truly should’ve just run them out. For once, you wish you had listened to Crowley, maybe doing that, or maybe even sacrificing your pride would’ve worked, turning around and leaving the hospital might’ve been the optimal solution.

It would’ve saved you from your current predicament.

Trapped in a room filled with monstrosities that can no longer bear to let you go.

A/n: Heartslaybul chapter (hopefully) coming very soon *Insert emoji deviously rubbing hands together*. Originally, this Au was meant to be specifically Yandere, but the more I wrote, the more I realized, These monster counterparts, are well, monsters, so I decided, it’s entirely up to you whether or not you want to view it as Yandere or not. With that said, they will still be possessive in some right, so let that help you determine your choice.

[gilbertscurls]

Everywhere ➵ Chris Sturniolo

The late afternoon sun bathed the street in a warm golden hue as you strolled toward the park, your thoughts drifting aimlessly. It had been one of those quiet days, the kind where time seemed to stretch out endlessly, leaving you too much space to think. You smiled to yourself, recalling the latest video Chris and his brothers had uploaded to their wildly popular YouTube channel.

Even though you’d known the trio for years—Chris, Nick, and Matt had been your friends since high school—it still amazed you to see how far they’d come. Their videos were blowing up, and the world was finally seeing what you’d known all along: the Sturniolo brothers were something special. But it wasn’t their success that had your head in the clouds today.

It was Chris.

He had always been the life of the group, the one who could make you laugh until your sides hurt. But somewhere along the way, the feeling you got when you were around him changed. It had become more intense, harder to ignore, and now… He was everywhere.

Every time you opened her phone, he was there—his smile, his laugh, his playful antics with Nick and Matt. Even when you weren’t scrolling through social media, something reminded you of him. A song on the radio, a phrase someone said in passing—everything seemed to lead back to Chris.

You reached the park and found your usual spot beneath a sprawling oak tree. Chris had texted you earlier, asking if you wanted to hang out, just the two of you. It wasn’t unusual, but today, there was a nervous energy buzzing under your skin. You didn’t know why.

Maybe it was because of that stupid dream you’d had the other night, where he’d leaned in close, his hand brushing your cheek as he whispered your name. You had woken up in a daze, the feeling of his touch lingering even after you opened her eyes. Ever since then, you couldn’t shake the thought of what it would be like if Chris saw you the same way you saw him.

Before you could dive too deeply into your thoughts, you heard his voice.

“Hey!”

You turned and saw Chris jogging toward you, his face lit up in that familiar grin that always made your heart skip a beat. He wore a faded band tee and baggy jeans, his hair tousled from the wind, and as always, he looked effortlessly good. You waved as he approached, your pulse quickening.

"Hey," you greeted him as he flopped down on the grass beside you, his usual carefree energy radiating off him.

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, just watching the world go by. Chris was always easy to be around—you never had to force conversation or feel like she needed to entertain you. He was like a constant presence, always there, even when words weren’t.

“You’ve been quiet today,” Chris said after a while, glancing over at you.

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” He leaned back on his hands, his eyes studying you in that way that made it impossible for you to lie.

You bit her lip. “Just… Stuff.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Stuff, huh? You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

You laughed, pushing his shoulder lightly. “Fine. Thinking about you. Happy?”

His grin faltered for a split second, but it was so quick you almost missed it. He sat up straighter, his voice softer now. “Thinking about me? Why?”

You felt her cheeks heat up. “I don’t know. You’ve just been… Everywhere lately. On my phone, on my mind.” You forced a laugh, trying to downplay it. “It’s like I can’t escape you.”

Chris didn’t laugh like you thought he would. Instead, he stared at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to figure something out. The silence stretched between you, and for the first time, it felt a little heavy, like there was something unsaid hanging in the air.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked, his tone more serious than usual.

You blinked, caught off guard by his question. “No, it’s not bad. It’s just… I don’t know. I guess I’ve just been thinking about us.”

His expression softened, and he leaned in a little closer, his voice low. “What about us?”

You hesitated, suddenly feeling vulnerable. This wasn’t how you had imagined this conversation going. You hadn’t planned on telling him, hadn’t even planned on confronting these feelings, but now that the moment was here, it felt impossible to hold back.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But lately, I just… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Chris was silent for a moment, and for the first time, you noticed the shift in his expression. There was no teasing grin, no playful glint in his eyes. Instead, he looked at you with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice soft but steady, “I’ve been thinking about you too. For a long time.”

Your heart stopped. “What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture you recognized. “I mean… It’s not just you who’s been seeing me everywhere. I can’t stop thinking about you either. Every time we hang out, every time I see you, it’s like you’re all I can focus on. It’s driving me crazy.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected him to feel the same way.

“I thought I was imagining things,” you admitted, your voice shaky. “I didn’t think you felt that way.”

Chris let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been trying to hide it for months.”

The vulnerability in his voice was something you weren’t used to hearing from him. Chris was always so carefree, so lighthearted, but now there was a weight to his words that made your heart ache.

“So, what do we do?” you asked quietly, your eyes searching his.

He reached out, his hand finding yours, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to fade away—the noise of the city, the buzz of the world. It was just you, sitting under the oak tree, with years of friendship and something more finally coming to the surface.

“Maybe we stop pretending we don’t feel what we feel,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “And see what happens.”

You looked down at your hands, your thumb brushing against his. “What if it changes everything?”

Chris smiled, and this time, it wasn’t teasing. It was warm, genuine. “Maybe it will. But maybe that’s okay.”

You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The weight of the moment hung between them, heavy with possibility and uncertainty. But as Chris leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tentative kiss, all the fears, all the questions melted away.

In that moment, it didn’t matter what might change, what risks you were taking. All that mattered was the way he felt—everywhere.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06

[dixonsfawn]

𖥔 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𖥔

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; you make coriolanus feel like he's losing control.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x district!reader, whole bunch of fluff honestly.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 1.3k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; not going to lie... i loved writing this one. i don't think i've written anything as fast as i wrote this bc it truly just flew out of me. this man really has me acting up and i am so here for it.

coriolanus snow was never one to let himself be vulnerable in the eyes of another, and for as long as you had known him there was one thing you were always certain of, he had to be in control. he depended on it. craved it. the thought alone, of everything slipping from his grasp and not going to plan, made his head swirl and his skin crawl. 

so when he met you, he began to question himself. question everything he had been working for, everything he had been fighting for, as you slowly wiggled your way into his heart. he was taken by you, and that scared him. 

you were a breath of fresh air in his carefully curated world, a burst of colour amidst the struggles of his life. your spontaneity and liveliness enchanted him, capturing his attention and leaving him craving more. he had never felt this way about anything before. 

as you sat there in the beauty of the meadow, a gentle breeze brushed against your skin, carrying the scent of the wildflowers. the sunlight streamed through the canopy of leaves above, painting a warm hue across everything it touched. the tranquillity of it all enveloped you, filling your heart with a sense of contentment.

you and coriolanus were close together on an old picnic blanket you had found, not needing any words to communicate as you took in the peacefulness. his presence alone was enough to make you feel safe and at ease.

you watch on as his fingers trail through the grass, stopping when he comes across a dandelion, and plucks it from its root, “it certainly doesn’t compare to the roses grandma’am grows.”

“some people think of them as weeds, but not me. i think they’re beautiful all the same,” you add, bringing a smile to each of your faces, and take the flower from his hands. “in some ways, i feel just like them; a weed in a world where i should be seen as more.”

coriolanus observes you as you take a closer look at the small flower, appreciating its simple beauty. the yellow, though not as vibrant as a rose, held its own charm. you don’t hold it for long before he takes it back, twirling it with his thumb and forefinger. 

he stares at the flower for a moment before reaching to brush the stem behind your ear, his fingers then lingering as he trails them along the line of your jaw, sending a surge of emotions down your spine. you smile at him, it’s all you could do. if you spoke you weren’t sure what jumbled mess was sure to spew out. 

you bring your hand up to meet his, intertwining your fingers as you lean into his touch. his eyes bore into you, taking you in, appreciating your features under the sunlight. 

“look what you’ve done to me,” he whispers, as if it were some unspoken secret. which, in your case, it was. 

intrigued by his statement, you perk up, “and what exactly is it that i’ve done to you, coriolanus snow?” 

you watch him intently as he opens his mouth to speak, a thought lingering in his mind before he stops and lets his head fall between his shoulders instead. his silence is heavy, lingering in the air between you. you can almost feel the weight of the unspoken words pressing against your skin. 

you reach out tentatively, your hand hovering just inches from his, wanting desperately to bridge the distance but afraid of intruding. the two of you have always shared a deep connection, but something feels different today. something is weighing him down, and you yearn to understand. 

as he continues to fiddle absentmindedly with a blade of grass, you can see that his mind is working overtime. thoughts and feelings swirl like a whirlwind, causing his brow to furrow and his grip on the grass to tighten. 

eventually, he looks up, his eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and uncertainty. two things coriolanus liked to keep to himself. 

it’s then that you decide to break the silence. “what’s wrong, my love?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “whatever it is, you don’t have to face it alone, you know.”

he looks at you, gratitude mingling with a wisp of fear in his eyes. whatever it was bothering him, you could see that it was taking its toll, and you simply wanted to take him in your arms and kiss it all away, but you knew that that wouldn’t help. 

“i don’t know what i’m doing anymore,” he finally answers. “i feel like i’m losing track of who i am and what i want, what i’ve always wanted, the longer i’m out here.”

“things can change, coriolanus, and you don’t always have to live up to others' expectations of you. especially, your own. so long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.” his gaze falls from yours once again, but you refuse to let him suffer in silence anymore. so you reach for him, gathering his face between your fingers and pull him back towards you. “is it really such a bad thing? you get to be here with me.”

“that’s exactly the problem,” he admits, and your breath hitches momentarily as you wait for him to elaborate. “you make me feel like i’m losing control.”

for so long coriolanus had been bound by societal expectations and concerned with maintaining a pristine reputation. he had become so accustomed to a life ruled by rigid schedules and strict rules, never allowing himself to deviate from the norm. 

but with you, everything changed. 

you were afraid to ask, but you knew you had to, for your own piece of mind. “is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”

he reaches to touch your face this time, your hands falling from his, and he pulls you closer towards him until your faces were merely a couple inches apart. “i have never felt so free, and yet, so scared in my life.”

“is that a good thing, or a bad thing?” you ask the question a second time, this time with more hesitancy as your voice shakes slightly. 

“it’s the best thing.” tears well up in your eyes as his words sink in. you never imagined that you could have such a profound impact on someone’s life, let alone someone as lost and conflicted as he was. “you’re my wildflower, and while i might not have been looking for you, i certainly found you where i least expected it.”

he smiles, his hands caressing your cheeks, as your heart thrums loudly in your chest, overjoyed and so full of love. leaning forward, you close the space between you, pressing a tender kiss to his lips, so full of passion that it almost envelopes you completely. 

you had brought coriolanus a sense of newfound freedom, showing him the beauty of embracing life’s uncertainties and every unpredictable moment. your spirit was infectious, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to your untamed soul. 

as he fell deeper in love with you, he realised that his heart yearned for the wildness and unpredictability you offered. he saw the vibrant world through your eyes, letting go of his inhibitions and stepping out of his comfort zone. 

you became his wildflower, a symbol of untamed beauty and unapologetic love. 

as you hold each other close, only pulling away to catch your breath, but not daring to pull away too far, coriolanus runs his thumb across your bottom lip. then, with his voice filled with tenderness and newfound appreciation, he whispers, “my wildflower.”

[sun-kissy]

hellooo, hope you’re doing well! could you write a hurt/comfort for poly!marauders with dhampir reader, specifically the headcannon where Remus and reader go on walks and talk about their insecurities regarding their identity. reader talks about their immortality and that they fear the day the marauders are gone, maybe James and Sirius come in and comfort reader? Idk just make it as painful as possible, thank you sm!!

aaaa yes!! thank you so much for the request babe <3 this is my first time writing a poly!marauders fic, so i hope i got the dynamics right :, )

for anyone wondering, the headcanon the anon was referring to can be found here

alone | poly!marauders

tw: two mentions of sex, but absolutely nothing explicit

half-vampire, half-witch!reader, poly!marauders x reader

“Dove,” Remus breathes, a false picture of calmness even though concern seeps into his tone. “Deep breaths, please. Deep breaths for me.”

His thumb continued to apply gentle pressure between your shoulder blades as you sit there, red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Remus thinks he can feel his heart breaking everytime you sniffle, the pitiful sound from deep inside your chest.

The two of you sit by the black lake, the moon lighting up the space. This was almost a weekly occurrence; both of you pulling yourselves out of your other two boyfriends’ sleepy embraces to sneak out and sit together on the expanse of grass.

You’d talk about the blood-thirsty monsters haunting parts of you till the sun started to rise, and fall asleep holding each other’s hands. The next morning, you’d wake up on the grass wrapped in James’ arms with Sirius peppering kisses all over your faces, and everything would be alright again.

This time was different, though; Remus knew it, and he was sure that by some form of instinct, James and Sirius would be able to sense it too despite the distance.

You were absolutely distraught, and he had no idea why. The two of you were sitting in silence when you broke down all of a sudden, and now he was desperate to make you smile again.

He was right — soon enough, the shuffling of leaves and poorly concealed whispers could be heard behind you.

“I told you something was wrong!”

“What? What’s wrong? The only thing wrong here is that they’re getting cosy without us!” Remus can hear Sirius grumbling, unable to stop a small smile from curving his lips despite the situation.

“Pads! She’s crying,” James huffs quietly.

Within seconds, Sirius rushes to crouch down in front of you, his eyes wide with panic. His eyebrows are bunched in concern, mouth set in a frown. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice coming out shriller than he intended to.

You tense and shrug noncommittally, gaze fixed on the ground as you try to blink away the tears blurring your vision. He softens slightly upon seeing the look on your face and gently takes your hands.

Sirius opens his mouth to speak again but James holds a finger to his lips, a silent plea to let you be. He rolls his eyes but keeps his mouth closed, starting to rub your palms with his thumbs.

James looks at Remus quizzically for an explanation, to which he shrugs — he had no idea what had triggered you so terribly. James sighs, and you feel his warmth instantly as he sits down beside you.

“Hi angel,” he murmurs, turning to you with a small smile. He reaches out and brushes a few strands of hair off your face, and you find yourself involuntarily leaning into his touch.

“Hello,” you mumble.

James feels his heart sink at the sound of your defeated voice, and he can tell how much effort it was taking you to hold back tears. “Can you tell us why you’re upset?”

“I… I don’t—“ you warble, “I’m fine, really.”

It takes all of Sirius’ willpower not to roll his eyes at your blatant lie. “Love, you’re crying. Just spit it out.”

Remus and James both turn to glare at Sirius, but he just shrugs and eyes you impatiently. Apparently, Sirius’ goad was all you needed to get you started. “I was just…. I don’t wanna be alone,” you croak pathetically.

Remus’ ministrations on your back still immediately, completely abandoning his project as he drops his arm to the ground. Sirius furrows his eyebrows, looking at you strangely as though you were some sort of crossword puzzle.

“Alone?” James echoed, pouting with puzzlement. “What… what do you mean, alone? You have us, sweetheart. We’re never leaving you.”

“Yeah,” Sirius pipes up, gently lifting one of your hands to press a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

“But you are,” you insist, and James can hear the desperation in your voice. He tugs you closer to him, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulder silently.

“Why would we ever leave you?” Remus speaks up softly, lifting a hand to gently comb through your hair. “What did we do to make you think that we would?”

“It’s not— you guys didn’t—“ you let out a frustrated sob, roughly raking your fingers through your hair. There was no easy way to go about this conversation, and you hated yourself for having to do this to them.

James makes a pitiful sound in the back of his throat and starts rubbing your arm encouragingly. He presses a quick kiss to your hairline, feeling more worried by the minute.

Sirius squeezes your hands firmly, applying pressure until it hurt and you finally raise your eyes to look at him. You’re scared of the anger, or worse — disappointment — you’d find, but there’s a bountiful amount of love in his gaze. He looks at you imploringly, saying nothing yet everything with his eyes.

You sigh shakily. “You’re all gonna die one day, and… and you’re gonna leave me here. Alone,” you warble, your voice growing softer with each word until your last one came out as a whisper. “And — and I’ll have to live without you, and I’ll be so loveless, and —“

James can’t take it anymore, and pulls you into his lap without warning, bringing your head to his chest. The walls of your dam start to break as you let out a sob, feeling the fear and sadness pouring out of you. He rubs small circles into your back, nestling his chin in your hair as he glances at his boyfriends worriedly.

You’re scared; to say the least. The three of them had been by your side for years, and your world revolved around them. You didn’t think you knew what else to live for if it wasn’t for them, their bright grins and heartfelt love. The way James crouched slightly to hug you, how Sirius pulled you into his side and peppered kisses all over your face, Remus’ hand in yours as he pressed his lips to your own — you didn’t think you could last a day without them and their endearing little quirks.

Living alone wasn’t something you had in you to do; because it wasn’t really living if it wasn’t with them. The thought of waking up in an empty bed sends a shudder through you as you squeeze your eyes impossibly tighter.

“Baby,” Sirius speaks softly, and your heart clenches at the way his voice cracks. He places a hand on the nape of your neck, slowly rubbing up and down. “Maybe… maybe you won’t have us in the future. But —“

That was the wrong thing to say, as you let out a wail and cling impossibly harder to James. Remus flicks the side of Sirius’ head chidingly as James rolls his eyes. Sirius lets out a sad exhale, blinking away tears. He never knows how to fix things.

The tall boy notices the way Sirius’ head was lowered, and immediately wraps both arms around him, pressing kisses to his hair. James tries not to smile upon seeing Sirius melt into his touch.

He locks eyes with Remus, and nods quietly to let him know he can handle it.

“Angel,” James coaxes softly. “Look up at me, please?”

You sniffle softly, raising your head to meet his gaze. James frowns when he sees your puffy red eyes, reaching out to wipe your tears.

“Do you love us for our bodies?”

The question catches you off guard, your eyebrows arching. Was he joking? In a situation like this? You hear the unmistakable sound of Remus snorting behind you. “What?”

“I said,” James repeated, “do you love us for our bodies?”

“No!” you splutter, some of your melancholy leaving to make way for confusion. “What — why —“

“Exactly,” James says firmly, immediately shutting you up with the sincerity in his voice. “You don’t love us for our bodies, for our physicality. You love us for us, for our love. And let me tell you, our love is something that’s gonna stay with you until the end of time.”

You immediately soften at his words. “But I won’t have you here, you won’t be —“

“We will,” James responds softly, jabbing a finger into the left side of your chest. “We will be here. Right here.”

You feel your heart swell with sad affection; feeling nostalgia towards something that hasn’t even happened yet.

Remus scoots forward to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your back snug against his chest. “And we’re here with you now. We’re going to be with you for years, dove. We’re not going anywhere anytime soon, okay?”

You let your eyes flutter closed, let yourself indulge for a moment as you nod blindly. It was impossible for you to stay upset when your boys were comforting you with saccharine voices and sweet touches. Perhaps they were right, they always were.

You hear a sniffle from your left, and open your eyes to look at Sirius. He had tears running down his cheeks, and was looking at you with his mouth open and a heartbroken look on his face. Remus let out a quiet chuckle, and you turn to give him a death glare as you crawl out of his lap and over to Sirius.

Sirius immediately pulls you into a strangling hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he cries. “Why are you crying?” James questions, bemused with the slightest hint of concern in his tone.

“My poor baby, she’s gonna be all alone,” he blubbered, earning a small smile from you. He pulls away and raises his head to look at you, gripping your cheeks with a fervour and desperation you’ve never seen before. “I’m gonna write you a letter everyday, so you can read them all when I’m gone. And… and I’ll make you a scrapbook of my most handsome pictures.”

You smile indulgently at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he blabs on, wiping his nose. “And we can make sex tapes in case you’re extra horny when you’re old, and…”

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” Remus says loudly, earning a giggle from you as James swats the back of Sirius’ head.

You rest your head on Sirius’ shoulder, feeling James peck your cheek and Remus’ arm wrapping around your waist.

Grief was inevitable, but it was just love coming back to haunt you, wasn’t it? Even after they passed, you’d find them in the way the wind travels on chilly nights, the glimmer of the sun at dawn, and maybe even the occasional sex tape. In everything you see, you would see them.

Their unconditional devotion to you transcended the blurry lines of mortality, and you knew that as long as your heart continued to beat, they would never stop loving you. James was right — they had left the mark of their love in every corner of your heart and home; and weren’t ever going to leave you alone.

[antinousletmehit]

Polties with a very playful nymph reader he met on one of the islands they sail to go!!

୨୧┇pairing: Polites x Nymph!reader

୨୧┇Enjoy!!

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The sun hung low in the sky as the crew of Odysseus’s ship landed on yet another mysterious island. The air was sweet with the scent of wildflowers, and the gentle rustling of leaves seemed to whisper secrets. Polites stepped off the ship with his usual enthusiasm, taking in the lush greenery that stretched as far as the eye could see. “Stay close,” Odysseus warned, his sharp gaze scanning the horizon. “We don’t know what dangers lie here.” Polites waved him off with a grin. “You worry too much, Captain. Not every island is out to kill us.”

Odysseus gave him a look but said nothing more as the crew began their exploration. Polites, as always, wandered a little farther than the rest, his curiosity pulling him deeper into the forest. It wasn’t long before he stumbled upon a glade that seemed almost too perfect to be real. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a golden glow over the crystal clear pool at its center. And there, perched on a rock by the water’s edge, was a person unlike any Polites had ever seen.

Its hair cascaded down their back like a river of gold, and their laughter was like the chiming of bells as they dipped their toes into the water. They looked up as Polites approached, their eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, what have we here?” They said, their voice melodic and teasing. “A sailor, lost in my woods?”

Polites blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. She was stunning, and the way she looked at him made his heart race. “I—uh—wasn’t lost, exactly,” he managed, scratching the back of his neck. “Just… exploring.” The nymph laughed, hopping gracefully off the rock and stepping toward him. “Exploring, are you? And what have you found?”

“Something beautiful,” he said before he could stop himself, his cheeks flushing as the words left his mouth.

Their laughter rang out again, and they circled him, their bare feet barely making a sound on the soft grass. “Flattery will get you everywhere, sailor.” Polites grinned, relaxing a little under her playful gaze. “Then I’m in luck, because I’m very good at it.”

“Oh, I can see that,” she said, stopping in front of him. “But tell me, doesn’t your captain and crew worry about you wandering off?”

“They worry too much,” Polites replied, his grin widening. “I like to greet the world with open arms. There’s too much wonder in it to spend all my time being afraid.” The nymph tilted her head, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “A rare sentiment, for a sailor.”

Before he could respond, a familiar voice called out from the trees.

“Polites!”

He turned to see Odysseus striding into the glade, his expression darkening as his gaze landed on the nymph. “Step away from it,” he commanded, his voice low and firm. Polites frowned, confused by the sudden tension. “Captain, it’s fine. They’re not—”

“Do not trust it,” Odysseus interrupted, his eyes never leaving the nymph. “It may look harmless, but I’ve seen too many men fall victim to charms like theirs.” The nymph smirked, crossing her arms. “Such cynicism,” they said, their tone light but eyes sharp. “You must be the captain. Always looking for the trap, never the treasure.”

Odysseus’s jaw tightened, but Polites stepped between them, holding up his hands. “Captain, please,” he said, his voice calm. “Not everyone we meet is out to harm us. Sometimes, you’ve just got to greet the world with open arms, remember?” Odysseus’s gaze flicked to Polites, and for a moment, he hesitated. Then, with a sigh, he stepped back.

Polites turned back to the nymph, his smile returning. “See? No need for all this tension.” The nymph chuckled, stepping closer to him. “You’re brave, Polites. Perhaps a little foolish, but brave.”

Before he could respond, they leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Her lips were cool, like the morning dew, and the touch made his heart skip a beat.

“Take care, sailor,” she giggled, their voice barely audible. “Not every nymph is as kind as I.” And with that, they turned and disappeared into the trees, leaving behind nothing but the faint scent of wildflowers.

Polites touched his cheek, a dreamy smile on his face as he turned back to Odysseus. “See?” he said, his tone light. “Not everyone’s out to get us.”

Odysseus shook his head, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re lucky it was one of the kind ones. Next time, don’t wander so far.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Polites replied, laughing as he followed his captain back toward the camp. Odysseus shook his head again, Polites could have sworn he saw the faintest hint of a smile.

[appocalipse]

summary: you were way too drunk last night and said some funny things...so, of course, steve had no other option but take you to his place to take care of you. :)

read part 1 here

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

Your head hurts.

Everything feels a little weird, in fact, but especially your head, spinning and throbbing and, when you try to pry your eyes open, the sudden harsh light streaming into the room feels like it's physically boring straight through your brain.

"Fuck," you whimper pitifully, eyes squeezing shut once more. Your ears are ringing, there's a coppery film lining the inside of your mouth and, for a terrible second, your stomach churns dangerously. "Fuck."

Someone hums somewhere near your right ear. A low, gravelly, vaguely amused sort of hum. There is absolutely nothing and no one alive on this green earth that would hum in that particular fashion except your best friend.

You peel your eyelids apart with great difficulty. When you tilt your head to the right, you see Steve sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing down at you with a soft look on his face.

Naturally, you proceed to freak the fuck out.

"Jesus Christ," you cry, scrambling backwards until you feel the back of your head slam against the headboard with a resounding thud. The dull throb in the back of your skull intensifies, and you have to fight back the urge to throw up. "Ow! Shit, I—What—what happened? Why are you in my—"

Hold on a second...this is not your room.

You cast an anxious, furtive glance around the unfamiliar setting of Steve Harrington's guest room. Panic floods your veins and has your heart hammering in your chest when you notice that you're clad in only one of his shirts and sweatpants that definitely don't belong to you.

Oh, Dear Lord.

Did something happen last night that you can't remember? Did something — oh, God, no.

Steve raises his eyebrows at you as though he can read your mind. "Relax. Nothing happened, relax, come back down," he coos gently, placing a placating hand on your arm. "And I...I didn't see anything, if that's what you're worried about. Nancy and Robin, uh...they helped you shower and get changed last night. Not me."

You cover your face with both hands, letting out a muffled groan as your memories come trickling back in. You don't remember every little detail from the previous night, but what you do remember is already more than enough to fill you with mortification and regret.

"...you said some pretty interesting things while you were drunk, though."

"Shut up," you mumble, peeking up at him through splayed fingers, "go away."

"Really, though," Steve continues, the teasing glint in his eyes a sure sign that he is very much enjoying your suffering, "who knew you found me so attractive?"

"Oh, Jesus," you mutter, groaning as you slide down to hide underneath the comforter, "where are my clothes? I want to leave now."

Steve snickers but makes no move to get up from his perch on the bed. You can hear the rustling of fabric, like he's adjusting his position as he waits for you to come out from under the blanket. "Clothes are in the wash, sorry," he says, sounding very much not sorry at all. "You, um, thought it was a good idea to lie down on the grass last night."

"Kill me now."

"Nope," he chirps, quite cheerfully so, "can't do that, because then who would watch Back to the Future with me tonight?"

You part the comforter just enough to peer up at him from beneath the thick layer of blanket.

"'Back to the Future'?" you echo, trying to ignore the fact that you feel a little lightheaded when Steve smiles down at you.

He looks nice. He always does, but even more so now for some reason — you're guessing it has something to do with the fact that you just woke up and haven't had the time to mentally prepare yourself for seeing him up close yet.

"Mmhmm. You up for it?"

"I'm pretty sure that my head is literally going to explode any time now." 

It's really not that bad anymore, but Steve doesn't need to know that, does he?

He nods seriously in agreement. "Right, because you drank way more than you should've last night. Might have mentioned something about rules and...mhmm, what was it? Oh, yes, dying if I didn't let you touch my hair…?"

"No, I didn't."

"You really did," he tells you, leaning back on the heels of his palms, "but don't worry, it was cute."

"I am very much worried," you say miserably.

Steve lets out a quiet sigh and leans forward again, hands reaching out to tug the blanket down far enough to uncover your face completely. "Come on," he says, "do you need anything? Aspirin, maybe? Food? Water?"

You consider his offer, taking the time to mull it over while you avoid his gaze. 

"Why did you bring me home with you?" you ask, curious despite yourself. "Why didn't you just take me home?"

"You, uh...really didn't want me to. Pretty much refused to let go of me all night."

"Steve."

"No, really!" he insists, holding both hands up in surrender. "It was like trying to pry a koala off a tree. You even asked—"

You let out a helpless moan of protest and turn away from him as much as you can, hiding your face in the pillow. Steve laughs, clearly delighted by the fact that he's managed to thoroughly embarrass you in less than ten minutes.

"You asked me if I—"

"I don't wanna know!"

"—would sleep in your bed with you."

"Nope," you whisper, your voice coming out a little garbled due to the way you've pressed your face into the pillows, "don't wanna hear it. Shut up, Steve, oh my God. Please."

"It was very adorable."

"I was drunk."

"Still. Cute."

You prop your head up on your elbow so that you can see him a little better, keeping the blanket held tightly around your shoulders as you do. "Sorry I called you. I don't even remember doing it, Tina just told me to and…sorry."

Steve looks down at his lap, shifting a little uncomfortably on the bed.

"I don't mind," he says, lifting his gaze up to meet yours briefly. "You said you missed me. At the party."

A dry, humorless chuckle leaves you and you cringe when the sudden motion sends a sharp pain lancing through your forehead. "Ow. Of course you would remember that," you say, cheeks heating up.

"Do you...remember everything?"

You blink, momentarily confused by the sudden change in conversation. "Everything?" you ask, more to buy yourself some time than anything else.

"You, um..." Steve trails off, clearly unsure of how to broach the topic with you, "you said I made you feel…stuff inside. That you felt stuff. Or something like that. Do you...remember saying that?"

You can practically feel all the color draining out of your face, leaving behind a blank canvas that hides none of your inner panic. 

"Uh...no, no, I don't. Do you have a...I need to, um, use your bathroom, like, right now, if you don't mind."

Steve blinks. "Oh, okay. Sure. I bought you a toothbrush earlier, by the way. It's in the medicine cabinet if...if you want."

"Yep," you say, climbing out from under the blanket with as much dignity as you can muster (which is very little), "yep, okay, thanks. I'm...gonna go do that. Now. Okay, bye."

You spend a good five minutes inside the bathroom splashing water in your face while silently wishing for death to come claim you sooner rather than later. Then, you brush your teeth with the toothbrush Steve left out for you — which is totally not cute, it's not cute, why did he do that, ugh, damn him — before venturing out into the hall.

"Steve?"

"Kitchen," he calls out from somewhere at the bottom of the stairs, "you want pancakes?"

You hesitate.

The idea of staying to have breakfast alone with Steve Harrington seems oddly intimate after last night, a dangerous prospect that will undoubtedly lead to awkward small talk and more teasing. However, he did go out of his way to buy you a toothbrush this morning...

You swallow down the nervousness you feel and pad barefoot down the staircase into the foyer, following the sounds of clinking utensils and soft humming to the kitchen.

Steve looks up from his place at the stove when you appear in the doorway.

"Hey," he greets, giving you a quick once over. "How's your head?"

"Feels like there's a little person in there hitting it repeatedly with a little hammer," you admit, grimacing a little as you come further into the room and sit down at the island. "Thanks, by the way. For helping me out last night. And today. I really am sorry for...um, you know, that."

"'That'?"

You purse your lips and Steve grins.

"Yes, that," you mutter, swiveling your seat from left to right while you watch him attempt to read a recipe on the back of a box of pancake mix. "Drunk me is like, twice as embarrassing as sober me."

"Embarrassing isn't the word I'd use."

"Please," you scoff, "I was pathetic. I could barely walk by myself."

Steve glances back at you. "I didn't think you were pathetic."

You raise an eyebrow at him skeptically.

"Okay, maybe a little pathetic," he concedes with a little snort, "but mostly just…sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Yeah, sweet. Don't know if anyone's ever told you that before."

"Sweet," you say again, the headache suddenly no more than an afterthought. "That's how you'd describe me?"

Steve, apparently having given up on making sense out of the instructions on the back of the box, turns around to lean against the counter behind him and studies you with his arms folded loosely over his chest.

"Yes," he says, tilting his head to the side a little. "Not the word you expected me to say?"

There's something about the way he's looking at you. It's warm and piercing all at once, like he can see right through you. It makes it hard for you to breathe all of a sudden, hard for you to do anything but gape at him like a goldfish that's been pulled out of water.

"Uh, I'm...confused."

"Me too," he admits with a little huff of laughter. "I was thinking about what you said."

"About your hair?"

"No, well, yeah, but—" Steve pauses, dragging a hand down his face with a weary sigh. "Look, what you said to me yesterday, about the things I make you feel, I—"

"I said I'm sorry—"

"Don't apologize," Steve interrupts, shooting you an unamused look, "I'm trying to say something here, come on, give me a sec."

"Right. Sorry. Go on."

"You're not supposed to apologize for apologizing."

"I'm s—okay, right. Mouth shut."

Steve purses his lips to stifle his amusement at your antics. You fold your arms in front of your chest and keep your gaze fixed firmly on the marble countertop as you wait for him to continue.

"I, uh," he says, pushing himself away from the counter so that he can wander over to the other side of the kitchen, where you sit, "I feel things too, you know. With you."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Steve chuckles, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he stops beside you, "'Oh'. Weird, right?"

You'd like to, but can't think of anything clever to say that would serve as a suitable response. You don't think Steve's looking for one, anyway, because he reaches out to tap his fingers lightly on the back of your hand, taking a seat on the stool next to yours.

"S'weird, 'cause I don't know if you meant what you said when you were drunk, or if it was just the alcohol talking, or what."

You shake your head quickly, and then wince because of the way the headache thuds behind your right eye.

"Robin says I'm an idiot and should stop being such a chicken," he continues, with a slight roll of his eyes. "And Eddie says if I don't 'shut up and tell you how I feel soon', he'll do it for me."

You nod, smiling despite your hangover. "Eddie's, uh, got a point, no?"

"Maybe," Steve allows, rubbing absently at the side of his neck.

He lets his hands slide down to the legs of your stool, fingers curling around the metal of each side. You don't quite understand what he's doing until he gives them a light tug, jerking you closer to him without warning.

You let out a little shriek of surprise as you reach up to clutch onto the first solid thing your hands find — his forearms. 

"Ah! What—Steve!"

He's got an amused smile on his face, but his eyes are bright and nervous all at once. Steve pushes your stool even closer to him, until your knees knock against his own and he's forced to lean down to keep his eyes on you.

You hold his gaze steadily as he edges closer. "What are you doing?" you murmur, watching his eyes flit downward to track the movement of your tongue as it peeks out to wet your dry lips.

"Not sure yet," Steve hesitates when your lips are a hairsbreadth apart. He watches, half-dazed, half-entranced by the way you stare back at him, unblinking. "But I've got a theory."

"A theory?"

He lowers his head toward yours. You press your hands flat against the hard plane of his chest to steady yourself, fingers splaying over the soft material of his t-shirt as you curl them around the fabric. Steve exhales, and you can feel his breath on your skin, a soft tickle that raises the goosebumps all over your skin.

"Wanna hear it?"

You nod slowly, aware of the way his eyes darken as they trace your face. He's so close that you can make out the fine dusting of freckles and moles that litter his skin, the long fan of his lashes as they flutter to a close. If you moved even slightly, your lips would brush against his.

"What's your…your theory?" you whisper.

You can feel his heartbeat thudding in his chest as he releases his hold on your stool, lifts both hands up to cradle your face instead. He slides the tips of his fingers along the side of your neck, lets his thumb trace your jaw.

"I think," Steve says, and you can tell he's struggling to string two coherent words together when you feel his thumb quiver against your cheekbone. "I think that, uh, you're—Christ, I—"

His nose brushes against yours and you tilt your chin up instinctively, chasing the brief contact. You smirk. "Christ, you...?"

"Shut up," Steve huffs out a breathless laugh. "I'm getting to it."

"Are you?" you tease, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, your turn to pull him towards you gently.

Steve goes easily, moving his hand from your face to brace the back of your neck. "I think," he starts, eyes crinkling at the corners, "that I might be in love with you."

It's such an unforeseen, unexpected confession that your heart almost gives out in your chest. 

You gape up at him, at his crooked grin, at his rosy cheeks. "You think?"

He blinks and then squints down at you like he can't decide whether he wants to be annoyed at your antics or kiss you. You hope for the latter, but he says, "What're you, a parrot?"

Shrugging, you're unable to keep your lips from quirking into a grin of your own. "Rude."

Steve's head falls forward and he rests his forehead against yours. You can feel his pulse thundering wildly against the hand you've pressed flat against his chest, and it makes you feel a little better about your own pounding heart.

"M'sorry."

You smooth a hand over his shirt and hook a finger under the neckline. "Forgiven," you tell him.

"Good," Steve says, nudging his nose against yours playfully.

You want to say something else, maybe tease him about his hair or something equally as inconsequential, but he doesn't let you. Instead, he leans down and closes the distance between you with a slow, tentative press of his lips to yours.

Now, Steve's mouth is soft and warm, and he kisses you like he's got all the time in the world. You shiver when he drags his fingers up the back of your neck, tangling them in your hair so that he can pull you closer yet.

You only pull back when the need to breathe becomes too urgent, giggling at the little noise of protest he lets out as you do. But Steve is nothing if not persistent, and he pulls you back in almost immediately, the movement so abrupt that you nearly topple backwards off the stool.

"Steve—I..." you manage to say, between your giggles and the heated press of his lips against yours. "I still...need to breathe, mister."

He huffs out a little laugh against the side of your neck, nips at the sensitive skin in retaliation. You squeal in delight and jab him playfully in the stomach, laughing as he recoils in mock agony.

"Stop laughing," Steve complains, the warmth of his own laughter tickling the underside of your chin when he nuzzles his nose into your neck once more, "come on, you're ruining the moment."

"Wait," you breathe, right before his lips meet yours again, "so...no pancakes, then?"

He drops his forehead against your shoulder and shakes with quiet laughter."You," Steve mumbles into the side of your neck, "are something else, you know that?"

You grin. "Apparently, you like that. Love that...no?"

You can feel him smile, the stretch of his lips curving against the skin of your shoulder.

"Apparently...yeah, I do. I do."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Daisychains

Marta Torrejón x Caroline Graham Hansen x Child!Reader

Summary: Caro's nervous

It wasn't that Caro hadn't met you before. Before you started school, you would often be at practice with Marta but it's not like you were ever properly introduced. You knew each other in passing.

To you, Caro was someone on your Mama's football team, a co-worker. To Caro, you were her girlfriend's little girl.

You kept to yourself most of the time and Caro had been seeing less and less of you since you started school so it was a little strange to see Marta running late for practice and stepping out of her car with you on her hip.

"I heard the school got broken into last night," Patri gossips to Pina," I overheard Ale on the phone with Marta earlier. They decided to just shut down for the week until it was all sorted."

"Who breaks into a school?" Pina scoffs," I doubt there's anything valuable there."

Caro tunes out the rest of their conversation, wiping her hands on her shirt to get rid of the sudden bout of sweat that lingers.

Today was the day that you were meant to be meeting her properly. Marta and she had talked about it and decided it was time. Caro had a plan, gifts ready to give you but they were all at home, waiting to be picked up for dinner tonight.

She hadn't expected this at all.

Marta looks frazzled and stressed as she sets you up on the side of the pitch with your arts and crafts.

"Conejita," Caro hears her say," Will you be okay here?"

You nod but you're pouting so Caro doesn't quite know if you're being truthful. "There's no daisies," You say softly as you stare at the pristine grass.

"I'm sorry. It's not like the field at school but here, you have some flower charms. Why don't you make us all some bracelets?"

"Okay, Mami."

"Good girl." Marta presses a kiss to your temple. "I'll be over there if you need me."

"I heard about her school," Caro says as she falls in step with her girlfriend," It got broken into?"

"We didn't even get the email until I had already pulled up to drop her off. I'm sorry that the plan has been pushed up earlier."

"It's fine." It's a complete lie because Caro is quaking inside. She had a plan and now the plan is worthless.

You sit on the edge of the field the entire time, a morose look on your face when you have to substitute real flowers for flower charms. You don't seem very happy at all, still in your school uniform as your clumsy little hands thread some string through your beads and charms.

This is the most nervous Caro's ever been and she's played in Champion's League finals. The plan is ruined and all Caro can do is practice smiling like she did last night in the mirror.

"What's wrong with you?" Mapi, ever blunt, asks," You look like you're constipated."

Caro's failure of a smile drops and she busies herself with drinking.

"Nothing," She says," Nothing at all."

Mapi shrugs, dumping her empty bottle onto the floor before she beams at something over Caro's shoulder.

"Hola," She says," How many of those are you collecting? You will have no room on your arms soon."

Ingrid appears, beaming as she teasingly shakes the multitude of bracelets that adorn her wrists.

"You know I can't say no to her. She's too sweet. She was very upset there were no real flowers she could use."

It's clear to Caro who they were talking about and she spares a glance back to where you're sitting. Your pile of bracelets have dwindled, almost all of them now on Ingrid's arms while you're handing the last one over to Marta.

The rest of practice somehow crawls by slowly but also races by quickly. All too soon (and not soon enough) Caro is standing by Marta's side with that stupid failure of a smile on her face.

You're looking up at her nervously, shifting your feet around as you stare.

"Hola," Caro manages to get out, trying to widen her smile but all it seems to do is unnerve you further.

"Conejita," Marta says," Do you remember I told you you we were going to meet someone special later?"

You nod, still warily eyeing Caro.

"Well, this is Caro."

Your voice is absolutely tiny and soft. "I know Caro. She's on your team."

Caro tries smiling again, showing her teeth but you take a little step back.

"Caro is my girlfriend," Marta explains," That's why she's special."

Caro tries to put you at ease. She tries to look welcoming but you just look more and more distressed the longer she looks at you, feet shuffling you back until you've hit the wall.

"I...Er..." Your eyes dart around wildly like you've suddenly been caught in a trap and are desperately looking for an escape. You can see no other options so you crumble to the floor and burst into tears.

Caro flinches, tearing her hand from Marta's and she hurries to put distance towards.

"Caro-" Marta calls but she shakes her head.

"It's fine," She says even though none of this is fine at all and all Caro can feel is her heart shredding itself in her chest," Maybe it was too soon for her. It's fine."

"Caro, just give me a second. I'm sure-"

"We can try again later," Caro says," Go. Be with her."

Caro doesn't cry. She's never really been a big crier but breaking down in the safety of the locker room is all she can seem to do, sitting in her cubby and sobbing into her hands.

She didn't even check if anybody was still in there before the sobs racked her body.

"Caro?"

There's not many people that Caro doesn't want to see. She has no ill will towards anyone but there's something about Ingrid that is just no help in this situation.

Not Ingrid with her perfect smile and her wrists adorned with bracelets from you.

"Go away."

"Caro, seriously, what's wrong? Is it about..." Ingrid trails off, clearly not wanting to pry further as Caro sobs without restraint.

Caro doesn't speak but it's enough to tell Ingrid what she needs to know. It's uncanny just how easily she can tell what Caro's thinking.

"It's a shock," Ingrid says," And it's been a tough day. Her routine is all messed. She probably didn't even mean whatever she did. It's been a tough day and I'm sure that it's all just catching up to her now."

"She was scared," Caro finally gets out," I scared her."

"Caro-"

"I had a plan, you know. Marta told me she likes flowers. I was going to pick some up on my way over tonight. I was going to help her with her bracelets. I...I think she hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Ingrid assures her," It's just been a long day. You can try again later."

"I don't want to try again later. I wanted to make a good impression today."

Ingrid sighs. "Caro, she's a little kid. She's going to have bad moods. You must have just caught one today."

Caro stands up, halfway to pulling her hair. "First impressions are everything!" She laments," I want her to like me! I want to stay in her and Marta's life! Ingrid, I really wanted her to like me."

"She will."

"I want her to like me today."

"She likes flowers," Ingrid says," And she likes making bracelets. If you really want to try again today then help her do both."

Ingrid's words are at the forefront of Caro's mind as she knocks on Marta's door that evening. She'd texted ahead to let her girlfriend know she wanted to try again but she still felt the steady thrum of nervousness as she waited for Marta to swing the door open.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," Marta says," It was a long day earlier. You don't have to push yourself. You don't have to force yourself-"

"I want to," Caro insists," I...I brought her something?"

"You didn't have to buy her anything."

Caro laughs awkwardly. "I didn't."

Marta gives her an intrigued look before smiling. "Conejita? Caro is here to see you."

You're sitting in the lounge, cross-legged on Marta's shaggy rug and gently working on threading more beads on some string. You turn your head to look at your Mami and her girlfriend, a little furrow in your brow.

Your voice is a tad more confident than earlier but you still look a little nervous.

Caro feels the same, practically thrusting the bag in your face. It's just a simple plastic one that her groceries had been delivered in last week.

Briefly, she wonders if she should have used a different bag.

"You were sad about daisies earlier," Caro blurts out," I got you daisies."

She'd spent nearly two hours in total going to the parks in her area, picking daisies from the glass to put in the bag.

You peer into the bag, just to check and a smile splits your face and Caro can finally breath again.

"I know you like making bracelets too so I though you could use them to make daisychains."

"I don't know how to do that."

"Would you let Caro teach you, conejita?" Your Mami asks," I'm sure she'd be very happy to."

Shyly, you reach out for Caro, wrapping your whole hand around one of her fingers.

"Will you teach me please, Caro?"

Caro smiles at you. Not that practiced smile in the mirror. A proper smile.

"I'd love too."

[revelboo]

Please, more Jazz 🙏🙏 it's one of my favourite storyline of yours, and I honestly love jazz so much, the nicknames are doing things to me 🫡

Don't feel pressured tho, take care of yourself. You're the best! 😋

I’m good. Just slow down when I write long form rather than these quick fics

Over It Now Pt 13

IDW Jazz x Reader

• Spreading out the blanket on the grass in the shade of the pin oak, he fidgets with the pillows he’d taken from the furniture on your porch. Satisfied, his attention turns back to your house. Watching your shadow moving around in the kitchen, as he heads back to the house and waits. When you finally open the door, you’ve got a tote bag in your fist as you awkwardly shuffle out the door with your crutches. Not even protesting when he reaches to pick you up and carry you across the grass to that pile of pillows.

• When he’d asked if you’d share a meal with him, it had seemed so silly to you. Knowing neither of you can eat what the other does, but he’d looked so serious when he asked. Not smiling like he’s teasing you and that’s what had made you agree. There’d been something real and vulnerable in that request. It’s chilly outside even with your jacket and you shiver as he settles you in the midst of what you’re certain is every decorative pillow and cushion that had been on your porch. “Thanks,” you say, reaching to touch his servos as he nudges a pillow closer and sets your crutches aside.

• “Surprised at how domestic I am, doll?” He asks, flashing a grin as he sits with a leg outstretched and the other drawn up, that little touch spreading warmth through him. Waiting until you unpack your strange smelling human food before reaching for his own energon cube.

• He’s sipping at that glowing goop, and you can see the mesh of his throat working as he swallows. Reminding you that even if he’s metal, he’s alive. It’s not like you haven’t known he wasn’t just a machine for a long time now, but it strikes you every now and then. “Just surprised you’re behaving,” you counter as you pick at your food, very aware of that visor flaring slightly. That he’s watching you eat with open curiosity to make you feel self conscious.

• “Nah.” Watching you shiver and huddle into your coat, he’s leaning forward. Picking you up plate and all, and settling you on his thigh against his frame as you inhale. “I have a reputation to maintain.” Servos lingering against you, he waits for you to get mad. But it’s your turn to surprise him by leaning into him. It’s only that he’s warmer than you are and he knows it, but that little show of trust throws him off balance.

• “The lying,” you say as you take a bite and he stiffens against you. Immediately on guard making you almost let it go. But that’s you, always unable to leave well enough alone. “You want to talk about it?”

• “Nothing to talk about.” He’s smiling still, but it feels brittle as one of his servos gently taps against your ribs. Wants you to let it go, don’t push. Don’t ruin this for him, because he just wanted to share a quiet moment with you. A little peace. Because the truth is that he doesn’t know how not to lie anymore. Playing spy, wearing a smiling, harmless face to hide how awful he really is underneath. Smiling instead of screaming at the things he’s been forced to do throughout the war. Things that haunt his recharge. That’s why he needs this, needs you. Your innocence reminds him of who he’d been and what he’d lost. And protecting you so you don’t end up broken and bitter like he is? It’s everything. “I’m just a liar, doll.”

Previous

Next

[starleska]

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.

[luimagines]

The Legendary Mermaid

Another commission!

They asked for a Legend and Reader where mermaids are involved. I'd explain more but I don't want to spoil it. XD

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Link didn’t think much of you at first. You were clumsy. Uncoordinated. One of the most ungraceful beings he has ever had the… um... pleasure to meet.

You spoke in broken Hylian but he could understand you well enough. When he stumbled into you on the beach he tried to go through the number of languages that he knew were native to the area but none of them seemed to click with you.

You were excitable and wobbly. You looked straight out of a ship wreck so you could have been from anywhere.

Still- Link wasn’t about to abandon you when you clearly had no idea where you were.

He took you into his village, set you up with a place to stay with some helpful neighbors and thought that his duty of care was done. He was wrong.

Turns out! You had a habit of running off in the middle of the day and going off to who knows where. The first time it happened, poor Gulley was in a tizzy trying not to panic because he thought you were just really good at hide and seek and he didn’t want you to miss dinner.But he couldn’t find you anywhere.

More people got involved.

They still had no idea where you went. Hours passed and the sun went down but no one had a clue where their strange and sudden visitor could have gone off to.

Link suddenly had the terrible thought that maybe you went off into the lake and something terrible happened. He ran as fast as he could but his panic happened to be unfounded.

You were there, soaking wet but otherwise unharmed, playing a small hermit crab that had somehow made it out of the water.

Link had half the mind to scold you, but your innocent giggles at the tiny creature had enough incentive to get him to calm down first. He bought you back where many of the aunties and elders fussed over you before giving you a warm bowl of soup and tucking you away for the night.

Your galavanting happened at least every other day. It didn’t take long for Link to realize that everytime you went missing, you were actually just by some body of water. 

He thought that maybe you just had a childish way of exploring. Or maybe you just liked to splash and swim. He wasn’t one to judge. He just wished you told people where you were going and when you planned to be back so no one would worry about you.

When you decided to stay in the village and interact with other humans for a change, you were like a fish out of water. 

You crashed into walls. You tripped over your own two feet. You would lose your balance at the oddest of times.

“Whoa!” Link caught you the arm before you could fall over and land face first into a pile of mud. “You know… You walk like a newborn deer.”

“What is deer?” You ask on impulse.

Link pauses and gives you a questioning look but decides to keep his judgment silent. Maybe there’s just no deer where you’re from. Somehow. Which would be strange considering how popular they are. Then again, you’ve never mentioned how you got to where they are or where you grew up. It seemed to be the only topic you actively avoided talking about.

“An animal.” Link says instead. “They have skinny legs and they begin walking on the day they’re born. The males have horns on their heads.”

“....Do they shine? Many colors?” You ask with a hopeful expression on your face.

Link hates to be the bearer of bad news, but he finds that he can’t lie to you. “Not really. They hide a lot so they look like golden grass and dried leaves.”

“Grass.” You stand up straighter, still holding onto his arm. “...Hm…”

Link has no idea how to respond to that.

“Yes.” He tries anyway. “They’re actually quite big once they’re fully grown. They’re majestic creatures.”

“Magic?” You tilt your head.

“No magic.” He shakes his head. “ Ma-ges-tic.”

“...Oh.” 

Is he going crazy or do you sound disappointed? Link swallows the spit in his throat, not sure why he feels the need to not only make you feel better, but to also impress you. “Most animals can’t do magic but they’re still very impressive. You know- if you want, we can always go into the forest and look for them. How’s that sound?”

You smile, but it doesn’t seem to reach your eyes.

Link feels his heart bob. He’s not sure if he’s doing this right. “Maybe tomorrow, yeah? After I’m done with my work in the forge, I’ll come look for you and we can go explore some more.”

Your eyes light up a little more genuinely and you nod enthusiastically to boot.

Link feels better about this suddenly.

Until tomorrow rolls around and you’re once again nowhere to be found.

Link wants to ram his head into the nearest wall. How could he forget? It was a ‘Go for a Swim Day’ today. It was part of your pattern. Did he just forget all his senses suddenly?

Groaning for the extra mileage he has to walk, he heads home first to collect some stuff for the journey. Surely you would be hungry at some point, right? Maybe he can make it a picnic too. There’s a nice spot that overlooks the valley that he knows of. You seem to be the type of person who enjoys the simple things his home has to offer.

Not only that but you seem rather focused on finding magical items. Or at least you try to find something magical in every nook and cranny. …He has a few magical items. That can impress you! He packs his magic mirror, his fire arrows and his mermaid tail. You’ll probably find a river or pond that you’d want to jump in. Since you love to swim so much, maybe he’ll join you just this once and show off a bit. Surely you’ve never seen anything like it.

Once he has everything set, he checks the nearby creek first- hoping you didn’t decide to splash around and find out.

Nothing.

Not a stone unturned and not a single piece of evidence that anyone had been here earlier. 

Link groans louder and turns on his heel to head down to the lake instead. He knows he’s being dramatic, but you’re not around to witness his pettiness, so he’s at liberty to do what he wants.

His feet are aching by the time he finally makes it to the lake. He kicks off his shoes to walk along the warm sandband before he begins his search anew. There’s not much that he thinks he has to look for. A bag? Some footprints? A discarded shirt or something? Your shoes by the side of the bank?

He finds… nothing.

“Where are you?” Link growls and flops onto the dirt. He pouts and puts his cheeks in his palms as he tries to think about what to do next. There goes his plans for the afternoon. And probably well into the evening at that. 

Link can’t help the sinking feeling of disappointment in his chest at the thought of being stood up. Not this was any big deal or anything- but he didn’t realize how much he was actually looking forward to this moment until he couldn’t have it.

Well.. He’s at the lake anyway. And he has the mermaid tail. He’ll get something for you. He can dive to the bottom of the lake and find something cool for you!

Link shimmies the tail on without a second thought and crawls into the water. The magic takes effect at once. He takes his first deep breath and pushes himself further into the cold. He feels his legs become intertwined with his item. The cold loses the sting the further he goes and although it takes a bit longer for his brain to adjust than he’d like, Link is quickly swimming deeper and deeper to where no other Hylian has gone before.

His eyes take longer to adjust. Considering he’s more worried about not forgetting that he can now breathe underwater, he’s still to ignore that little tidbit. All he has to do is swim straight down anyway.

Something moves to his left.

Link stops dead in his tracks.

“What?” He blurts. The sound he makes is warbled, broken as it always is when he tries to speak underwater.

In a split second, the figure blasts in front of him, sending him back a few feet. He brings up his arms to block any unwanted water from going up his nose and growls.

You poke his arm two seconds later.

“AH!” He screams without meaning to.

You seem just as perplexed and confused. You tilt your head and swim back just enough so that you can see him in his entirety. “Link?”

Your voice has changed too, but not quite like his does when he’s in this form. Your voice is clear as crystal and he can physically feel the waves it produces as they curl around his ears and his body.

He repeats your name with the same shocked reverence.

You break out into excited chitters and clicks, sounds he’s never heard before poke all around his body and he thinks he can feel the very effect they have on his brain.

You swim back over to him and twirl him around in earnest. You look delighted to see him here.

Link takes the moment to also look you over.

A mermaid.

He flushes when he sees more than he’s bargained for. Of course. What purpose do clothes serve to a mermaid?

You swim circles around him. The movement is graceful and borderline poetic, nothing like the way you move on land. Your tail was glittery and bejeweled with colors he hadn’t known could sparkle in the low light of the lake water. It trailed after you like a silk scarf or a skilled ribbon dancer.

He was staring.

You seemed to have caught on quickly that he was enthralled by your body. A part of you wonders why. Another feels the need to be embarrassed. You’ve dressed in the way of the finless for so long that you’ve almost adopted their shameful thinking to cover up one's form. The third and final part of you actually likes his attention. He’s impressed. Enamored, almost. This is the part of you that wins.

Smirking, you decide to metaphorically test the waters and dance around him some more, brushing your tail against his and pulling him this way and that with your dance alone. You swim away for just a second, wanting to play some more with the strange boy that can be of both worlds.

Link jolts out of the trance you’ve put him in and skips to follow you.

You laugh.

His breath catches in his throat at the sound of subtle trills and chirps. Link freezes completely in his spot. Your laugh tickles him even as he begins to sink from the lack of movement once more.

“You swim worse than a guppy.”

Link falters and the ethereal moment for him is shattered in an instant.

“Hey!” He says instead.

You laugh again, sending more pins and needles over his skin and tail and begin to swim laps around him, clearly showing off your superior swimming agility. You play with him some more, poking and annoying him but swimming away before he can retaliate and poke you back.

The game catches on from there.

Link is, unfortunately, in over his head and he has to admit proverbial defeat minutes into it. It doesn’t stop him from playing anyway. This is arguably the most free he’s ever seen you and he’s not about to ruin it anymore than his lack of grace does on its own.

It’s nice.

[exoticb-utters]

Hello!

Sooo happy I found your blog! I’ve been absolutely loving your Hank McCoy stuff (and honestly allll of your writings)

I was wondering if you might have time to write something angsty- confessing love kind of thing for the reader and Nightcrawler? I’ve always been a fan of his. He always seems to me that he’d be touch starved, despite being so charming.

FORGIVE ME FOR TAKING FOREVER ON THIS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

“Flufftober” series. 3 🎃 Kurt X GN Reader ‘Fluff’ Word Count: 1.2k

You stared at your ceiling. You couldn’t sleep, again. Try as you might, your brain wouldn’t let you get a wink tonight for some reason. 

You roll over to your side with a huff, looking at your bedside clock. It was two in the morning.

You smash your head against your pillow with an exasperated groan. You’d been like this for the past few weeks, on and off thankfully- but it was still annoying. 

You’d been under so much stress lately. Not just as an X-man, but a certain member of your team was driving you crazy. 

It was Kurt, obviously. 

The blue devil couldn’t stay out of your mind, no matter how hard you tried to shoo him away…so you could at least get some shut-eye.  

It was just so hard. He was so kind, nurturing, honest, passionate, and a goof- oh, you’re getting carried away when you should be sleeping…once again. 

You shouldn’t keep lying to yourself like this, giving yourself false hope. He was friendly to everyone, that was just Kurt. And you were no exception, just another X-Men…just another friend.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes with a yawn. Fresh air and a good ol’ walk by the tree line should do you some good. 

You quietly tip-toe down the stairs, careful not to wake anyone at this hour. However, it was unlikely for people with keen senses like Logan. But still, you tried. 

After throwing on a pair of shoes and a jacket, you slipped outside through the back door. 

You made your way down the grassy hills, leaves crunching underneath your feet as you made your way toward the forest. It was dark, with nothing but the stars and moonlight accompanying you tonight. 

A brisk autumn breeze rushes past you, dancing through the tree’s amber leaves. It was so calming, just watching nature move. 

You took a deep breath, the sweet smell of fall surrounding you. Just what you needed.

“Is everything okay Mein Freund?” A startling puff of air sounded behind you. 

You jump, yelping while grabbing your chest with a hand. “Kurt!” You whisper-tell, coughing from the smoke trails he left behind from his ‘bamphing’. 

“I’m sorry to startle you,” He said bashfully, flashing you his pointed canines in a toothy grin. “I noticed you sneak out alone- late in the night and I got worried!” He nervously chuckled, scratching at his neck.

You sighed, shaking your head with a soft smile on your face. “Oh Kurt, always worrying about others…” 

“I just wanted some…air is all.” You add with a shrug, huffing out a laugh. 

“Ah, I see…” He nods his head before looking up. “Well, it is a beautiful night out.” You hum with him in agreement. 

“Would you like to join me?” You ask reluctantly. His yellow eyes shifted back to you, a gentle smile still lingering in his expression. “Of course.” 

With that, you take his hand and pull him down to lie in the grass with you. You both land on leaves and soft grass, looking up at the stars littering the night sky.

While his gaze was directed upwards, his mind was freaking out over the fact you were touching his hand. 

He’s never touched- held hands before. This was all so new to him. Was he freaking out right now? He was definitely freaking out. He was feeling too hot. No, it was too cold outside to feel that warm. There had to be something wrong with him. Was there something wrong with him? Oh God, he’s going to be sick. 

“Kurt?” Your voice pulled Kurt out of his daze. 

“Y-Yes?” He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “Nothing, just thought I’d lost you there.” You chuckle, watching Kurt’s eyes dart between you and your hand. 

You follow his line of sight before realizing your hand was still wrapped around his. “Oh! Sorry about that, forgot I was still doing that…” You release his hand, a little too quickly for Kurt’s liking.

His eyes furrowed in a frown. Did you not like holding his hand? It was a reaction he was used to, people not wanting to be around him because of his appearance. He was a mutant after all, and a very blue one at that. 

“It’s fine…did that make you…uncomfortable?” He asked you softly, voice barely above a whisper. 

You were taken aback. Had you hurt his feelings? This was all so confusing…

“No, I just..thought you didn’t want to hold mine…” You say, your gaze fixed on the stars, not having enough strength to look at Kurt. 

“It’s quite alright, I do not mind!” He smiles at you, taking a hold of your hand. “W-well as long as you’re comfortable with it.” You say as nonchalantly as possible. There was nothing nonchalant about this situation right now, you were making physical contact with the man you’ve been pining for the past few years! You were freaking out.

“I actually…really like you if I’m being honest.” He randomly blurts out, his statement effectively getting you to shoot up and look at him with wide eyes. 

“Oh, you don’t…feel the same, do you?” He states, rather than trying to find confirmation. He looks down at his hand still holding yours, disappointment written all across his features. 

Before you can explain yourself, he’s gone in a puff of blue-purple tendrils. You cough, waving your hand to clear the smoke from his vanishing act. Nice, real smooth. You scared him off. 

You get up, running to the mansion with nothing to lose…Well, other than sleep since it was late. But you had to find Kurt before he got the wrong idea. 

You spot him in a tree, sitting on a thick branch with his tail leisurely hanging off the side. Was he really just gonna sit there like you couldn’t see him? 

“Kurt!” You whisper-yelled, standing at the trunk of the tree. 

“Agh, I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one night! Let me wallow in self-pity alone…please…” He trailed off with a groan, leaning his head back to hit it against the tree. “Alright I’m coming up there-“ 

“WAIT!” You stop your advances up the tree, raising a brow questionably at him. “I-I’ll just come to you…” He mumbles. 

In a flurry of bamphs, he lands in front of you, his head hanging in humiliation. You let out a sigh before pulling him into an embrace. “What’s all this for?” He nervously chuckles, his arms moving stiffly to pat your back. 

First the hand holding, now hugs. Kurt feared he might explode from all the warmth and affection from you. 

“I like you Kurt.” You murmur, just loud enough for him to hear. 

When you’re met with no response, you open an eye to peek at his reaction, just to find a purple flush blooming on his blue complexion. And when you advert your gaze downwards, you notice his forked tail swaying. That was adorable…

“This might be the best day of my life.”