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puttersmile · 20 days ago

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I had a weird dream and crack ship was born

Frowny: Oh…yeah she seems. Nice. Dogday? Where are you going?

Dogday offscreen running away as fast as he can.

I don't even remember the dream but I remember the ship.

I need possible ship name. Ideas? Right now I'm thinking Chocolate Rain lol.

Gametoons is so bad. But I somehow someway had a liking for Frowny Fox (and maybe some of the other forgotten critters)

I also wasn't satisfied by how i drew Maggie in my last comic. That's what I get for trying to draw her from memory and not just...looking up a picture. So I tried again. I like this design a lot more.

A short oneshot fic under the cut. At the last minute I changed it to be Christmas themed which is why the picture isn't Christmas themed.

The Day Frowny Realized Maggie Wasn't Just Scary

The outdoor mall was chaos. With the holidays right around the corner, critters flooded the square, scrambling for last-minute gifts and bargains. Stalls were crammed with shiny trinkets, festive treats, and decorations that probably cost twice as much as they should. Frowny hated this. Crowds made his fur itch, and the pressure of picking the perfect gift didn’t help.

He was here for a Secret Santa gift exchange, and the name he’d drawn—an acquaintance who loved puzzles and had a mild obsession with coffee—had him stumped. He hovered by a table of mugs, frowning at one shaped like a sleeping squirrel. It was cute, but not too cute, right? He didn’t want to send the wrong message.

Just as he reached for it, something slammed into his side, sending him stumbling into the stall. A sharp hiss of pain escaped Frowny as he caught himself on the edge of the table.

“MOVE IT, BUDDY!”

Frowny turned, his tail bristling, to see a yellow gecko in ugly brown pants rushing through the crowd, shoving critters out of his way like a hurricane. Before Frowny could even get a word out, the gecko shoved another critter. This time, the wrong one.

Maggie Mako.

Oh no.

Maggie didn’t budge. Didn’t even sway. She turned her head slowly, towering over the gecko like a tidal wave about to break. Her grin was wide and full of teeth. “You wanna try that again, pal?”

The gecko froze, his cocky energy deflating immediately. “Uh… my bad,” he stammered, his eyes darting for an exit.

“You shoved someone else, then bump into me? Oh, you’ve got guts. Let’s see if you like keeping them inside.”

The gecko's yellow scales turned white. “S-s-sorry ma'am! D-didn't mean to—uh—yeah, I’ll just—”

“Scram,” Maggie growled, crossing her arms. That was all it took. The gecko bolted, nearly tripping over his own tail as he disappeared into the crowd.

Maggie rolled her shoulders and went back to considering some very ornate holiday cookies, looking more annoyed than anything. “Some critters. That's what I thought.” she muttered, dusting her hands off.

Frowny, who had been standing frozen with one paw still clutching the squirrel mug, finally remembered how to breathe. He adjusted his scarf and was about to slink away unnoticed when Maggie turned, catching him mid-stare.

Her grin softened with recognition. Less teeth, more playful.

“You okay, Foxy boy?”

It took a second for Frowny’s brain to catch up. Maggie had just defended him. Maggie, the big, scary shark woman who could probably bench press two wagons full of pumpkins, had stepped in for him. And now she was looking at him, smiling, as if she hadn’t just terrified someone out of their scales.

“I, uh…” His left ear flicked nervously. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Maggie stepped closer, her shadow falling over him like a blanket. “You look a little pale. Well, paler than usual.” She smirked, her tone teasing but not unkind.

Frowny wanted to say something clever, but his brain had short-circuited. Instead, he noticed something odd: Maggie didn’t seem scary in that moment. She seemed… safe. Yes. safe, strong and confident, but not in a way that made him want to hide. In fact, it was kind of… nice?

And then it hit him. It wasn’t just nice. It was attractive. Hot even? Did his brain really just go there.

Oh no.

Maggie arched a brow, waiting for a response. When none came, she leaned down, eyes twinkling. “What’s the matter, Foxy? Catnap got your tongue?”

Frowny’s ears burned. He yanked his scarf higher over his face. “No. I’m fine. Thanks. Bye.” The words came out in a rushed jumble as he turned and awkwardly strutted away, his tail puffed up like a bottle brush.

Maggie blinked after him, then laughed. “You’re welcome!” she called, shaking her head. “Weird little guy.”

Meanwhile, Frowny ducked behind a corner, clutching his chest like his heart was about to escape. What was that? What was that?! He’d spent weeks avoiding Maggie because she was terrifying, and now, after one incident, he was—no. No, no,no. This wasn’t happening! He did not have a thing for Maggie Mako.

…But her smile had been kind of nice. And her strength had been… really nice. Pretty smile, very white cheerful teeth that didn't frighten him like they'd used to.

“Oh no,” he muttered to himself, ears flat. “This is bad.”

It was the beginning of the end. Or maybe the start of something good? No of course not! Or maybe it could be? Frowny wasn’t sure yet. He just knew he was doomed.

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korereapers · 1 year ago

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I collaborated with the amazing @laxi0v0 for a cute little event we made in the scriddler server. This is Laxi's art about the fic I wrote, and HONESTLY HONESTLY i couldn't have asked for a better and more supportive partner. Her art is way better than I would ever dream on writing and honestly, Laxi, I'm so glad it was you bc we vibe a lot about our tastes w this ship.

The fic will be on ao3 later, but here, for you guys, before anyone else:

Jonathan takes a sip out his mug, nicely decorated with a pumpkin, the recipe of the pumpkin spice coffee perfected by him for decades. It’s warm, it tastes like fall, and it’s the start of what Jonathan considers to be the best time of the year.

It started like a small tradition for him, when he finally left home and started studying to become the psychologist he wanted to be. Halloween was to be celebrated, especially for freaks like him, abhorrent creatures that made great-granny’s skin crawl. He was proud of that, in a way. It was his moment, it still is, after all of these years, because he is still a freak, he belongs to this weather and these colors more than he belongs anywhere else. He belongs between ocher leaves and the smell of fog, the rain starting to fall over Gotham, only to leave when it’s summer again. The start of his kingdom, of the time he rules over.

Or it would be, if Edward wasn’t so adamant about going to freaking Starbucks.

He doesn’t get it, not really. A malnourished child from Georgia, surrounded by overworked kids that serve them with the most forced smile when Edward asks, yet again, for the infamous Pumpkin Spice Latte. With ice. Oatmeal milk. Whipped cream.

Jonathan wants to die.

“How is this even supposed to be spooky?”

Edward rolls his eyes, green contact lenses barely moving, as if they were starting to get glued to his irises. Which should be a bad sign, but Jonathan is, yet again, not his boyfriend’s keeper.

“Not everything has to be spooky when this time arrives, Jonathan.”

He kind of dislikes it, when he calls him by his full name. He calls him Jon when they are alone, when they are intimate, when their bodies or their hearts are entwined. He doesn’t like when he calls him Jonathan, because that means that Edward thinks he is being too bitter, complaining too much, a complete prick.

It’s not that he dislikes the stupid PSL, either, but it feels like desecrating one of his oldest traditions, and he feels as if he were betraying himself.

“Don’t you like my recipe, then? Do you dislike it so much we have to come here every single week?”

The cashier smiles at them awkwardly as Edward pays for their order, tipping the young lady generously.

“Do you have to take everything personally? I started getting here when I finally had my own money to spend. Is it that hard to just enjoy it, when I want to share it with you?”

Oh. A tradition. Jonathan distractedly drinks from his thematic glass, but says nothing.

They are really different, Edward and himself. To Edward, spending time and money like this… is almost a love language. It’s a lifestyle that he works hard to keep, having dinner in expensive places, getting coffee every time he can. Sharing it with him, because Jonathan is important to him.

Jonathan may be unable to feel fear, and his brain may be as damaged as Edward’s heart, but guilt still crawls its way into his psyche. It still makes him feel uneasy, because he cares, because he understands the feeling, because he wants to share his recipe with Edward because of the exact same reason.

He touches Edward’s hand when they sit, an apology he doesn’t utter but that can be felt in his irradiated orange eyes.

“I like it when you share time and nourishment with me.”

Edward’s expression softens, a glint of blue under the bright green contact lenses.

“Wow, when did you get emotionally aware?” his mouth says instead, and for a moment, Jonathan understands the Bat and his compulsion to punch him in the mouth.

“I’m a psychologist, Edward.”

“... right,” he mutters, his voice cheeky, still clearly a little mad, his thoughts loud. Jonathan loves that about him, his expression when he is deep in thought, when he is trying to understand something. A puzzle, a new riddle in their lives. “That recipe of yours is really important to you, too, if I’m guessing correctly.”

Jonathan nods, his eyes still on Edward’s, who seems to be feeling a little bit too shy to look at him, knowing that they are having an emotionally vulnerable moment.

“It is. I made it myself and… I want to share it with you.”

Edward does smile a little at that, his voice softer when he speaks.

“Let me try it later. I want to give it the thought and recognition it deserves.”

Jonathan’s thumb caresses Edward’s hand, his smile contagious. Like a well concocted virus.

“I would love to.”

—-------------------------------------------

Edward is pretty sure that he is (very unluckily, by the way) dating the man with the poorest taste in the world. Jonathan seems to think that he is hilarious, dressed in his usual costume, even the needles oozing toxin as he sits quietly on the couch.

There is a thing about him that Edward has always loved: how he becomes a different person when the mask is on.

They used to talk about it, back in the day, when they used to share a room in the Asylum. Jonathan felt naked without his mask, his expression dull and almost tense, devoid of what made him himself. Edward, at least, has managed to make those expressions change, the real Jon emerging from behind whatever aloof façade he tries to put on to protect himself, to pretend he is a regular human being and not the freak that makes his heart melt.

He must surely be smiling behind the mask, then. Edward can almost feel him vibrating in excitement, like a small child, and in a way, he kind of is. A reclaimed childhood, the enjoyment of a joy he wasn’t allowed to feel. He can understand that.

Still, the poorest fucking choice of a Halloween costume.

“Really, Jon? The most original idea, I have to say.”

Jonathan looks at him, and he can feel his piercing eyes even behind the mask, the expression of a predator, so dangerous it makes his face flush a little. Birds of a feather, both of them. The Scarecrow sighs, deeply, the sound distorted behind the mask. It’s creepy, he has to admit, which is probably… kind of the point.

“Like you’re one to talk, Herlock Sholmes.”

Edward gasps, indignant. His Poirot costume is nothing to be laughed at.

“Excuse me?!”

He can almost feel the smile behind the mask, because Edward knows him, he knows Jonathan is an avid reader, he knows the difference between Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle, for fuck's sake. He is doing this on purpose, to rile him up. He always is.

Edward's mind goes somewhere else, somewhere private. Somewhere where he is indeed riled up, and Jonathan touches his cheek, looking up at his face from behind the mask, Edward sitting on his lap, while long, dangerous hands go up his thigh, eyes hungry-

The doorbell rings. Edward goes back to reality, Jonathan's eyes on him as he moves towards the entrance, the tips of his ears surely blushing.

When he opens the door, he has to look down, because damn, kids sure look tinier these days. He cannot remember to be this short, this innocent, this…

Happy.

He feels Jonathan's chin on his shoulder, almost jumping in place because the man is silent like a ghost, no matter how eager he is to take part in the holiday.

One of the kids is wearing a Batman costume, and Edward tries his hardest not to roll his eyes, with better or worse success. Another kid is dressed as Harley Quinn, what makes him wonder if these parents are in need of any kind of psychological help. The youngest, a child dressed as Wonder Woman, looks at them with badly hidden mischief, and Edward feels tempted to just close the door.

"Trick or treat!" They ask in unison, and before Edward can answer, Jonathan drops a bag in front of them, full of who knows what, but the kids don't ask.

Such blissful ignorance.

"Thank you Mister Holmes! Mister Scarecrow!" The girl dressed up as Batman says, and the one dressed as Wonder Woman purses her lips in disgust.

"Poirot's moustache isn't like that. You're a fake."

The kid dressed as Harley Quinn laughs in response, taking the bag of candy and running away with Wonder Woman. The one dressed as Batman follows who Edward believes to be her sisters, and he blissfully thanks that they don't have any children.

"Please tell me the bag is full of drugs."

Jonathan chuckles a little, his arms around Edward's waist.

"Hershey's," is everything he says, his sudden lack of malice and evil intent a headache for Edward.

"Oh, Jon. Are you going soft on me?"

Jonathan's smile can be felt in the air, a predator, a killer awaiting their next victim.

"Me? Oh, darlin'..." he whispers against Edward's ear, his distorted voice making him shudder in anticipation. "Never."

#scriddler #my stuff #and laxi's #dc #riddler #scarecrow #edward nygma #edward nigma #edward nashton #jonathan crane #i love you laxi.... really

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anonziesssz · 2 months ago

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Pumpkin Lattes & Autumn Glances.

✦- Authors Note: Posting a Blue Lock fic after this 🙈

✦- pairings: Yuki Tsunoda x reader.

✦- summary: Yuki Tsunoda Takes the reader to a cafe and teases them

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It's a perfect autumn afternoon, with the streets colored in warm hues of amber and crimson, with golden leaves drifting down to cover the cobblestone path outside. Yuki holds the door open for you, pink coloration on his cheeks as he gets the chill in the air, smiling softly at the corners of his mouth.

Inside, the café is comforting and inviting, the scents of cinnamon and coffee filtering through the air. There are old posters on the walls, strings of fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, and, somewhere way in the back, a soft humming of jazz music. You slide into a small table by the window-the kind where you can watch the world walk by outside-and it feels like you stepped into a warm bubble off a cold outside.

So, the pumpkin spice latte here? A masterpiece. Not too sweet, not too spicy. Perfectly balanced." Yuki says with such great authority

"Didn't know you were such a latte connoisseur."

"Hey, it's a big deal." Yuki grins, leaning in, and for a second, the two of you just look at each other, caught in that quiet, unspoken moment.

Your drinks arrive just then, in oversized, excellently crafted mugs. Yuki takes a huge sip, barely waiting for it to cool down. Immediately he scrunches up his face and pulls back from the cup.

"Ah! Hot, hot, hot-too hot. But worth it." Yuki fans his mouth, laughing at himself while you chuckle along with him.

He pulls his phone out and snaps a quick photo of you in under a second.

"Caught you. Looking cute." He says

"Hey! Warn me next time."

Yuki (texting you under the table):

tooltips But then I'd miss all the best parts, like the way you look when you laugh <3

You feel a warm flush rise to your cheeks, and you sneak a glance at him, catching his soft happy smile as he waits for your reply.

You (texting back):You know, for all your teasing, you look kinda cute with that scarf all bundled up like that.

Yuki (still texting):Oh, so you like the scarf look? Noted for all future dates. ????

You laugh, and your smiles melt into your cups as you take another sip of lattes. It's rich, it's warm, with just the right amount of spice to remind you of everything you love about fall.

Outside the window, the street bustles with people, but somehow, you seem to be both in a world of your own as your conversations flow as effortlessly as the falling leaves while you chat about everything and nothing.

After a while, Yuki turns towards the window, his gaze pensive.

"Personally, it's really felt like my favorite season lately." He catches your eye with a soft, upturned smile. "Kinda makes everything feel… softer, you know? Like the world's giving us a little break."

"Yeah… And it's cozy. Like, we could sit here for hours and just watch the world go by."

Yuki just texts back, his fingers flying across the screen:

We really could. Just me and you. Bottomless lattes. We could act like no one else exists.

You read his message, the warmth settling further in your chest. And you text him back.

You:

Deal. But only if you promise to keep ordering lattes, and pretending they're not too hot for you.

He chuckles, peering over the rim of his cup with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Deal. And every time I burn my mouth, you owe me one more date. Think you can handle that?"

"Oh, easily. I'll bring aloe vera for you next time." You answer

"You're thoughtful, aren't you? But I wouldn't mind a kiss as a cure either."

You both laugh, but his words hang between you, filling the silence with a little spark of something more.

Yuki lifts his phone again-this time, holding it up for a selfie. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, and you both smile as the camera clicks. He looks down at the photo, nodding approvingly.

"Great, this is going to my wallpaper. Can't believe I finally found someone who tolerates my love for pumpkin lattes."

"Hey, someone has to keep you humble." You chuckle

You both keep sipping your drinks, sending each other silly comments via text despite sitting only a few inches apart. Every now and then, Yuki bumps his knee against yours or leans over to steal a bite of your pastry, his face lighting up at every tiny, simple joy of the afternoon.

The café around you feels like it bathes you in a golden glow; with Yuki there, it feels like this moment, just the two of them present, wrapped in the warmth and laughter of autumn-might be one you could remember forever.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

#anonziesssz #f1 #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #laylas works ⊹ ࣪ ˖#yuki tsunoda #yuki tsunoda x reader #yuki tsunoda imagine

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avatar-anna · 1 year ago

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Classic Fall Fun

my mind is empty. i bought a halloween squishmallow and decorative pillows for fall. so i wrote a blurb about it. enjoy!

"Baby...What...?"

"I can explain!" you blurted, rushing over to your fiance.

"I hope you can," Harry murmured as he picked up a throw pillow from the couch. "I can hardly see the sofa under all these."

"There was a sale," you began. "I was only going to the craft store for puzzle glue because I finished my puzzle this morning and I wanted to hang it up, but then I saw the Fall and Halloween section and..."

"And you turned our living room into Halloweentown," Harry said.

"You remembered!" you said, trying to shift the subject off all the Fall decor that now lived in your home.

You really didn't mean to buy all the decorations—the throw pillows, the blanket with pumpkins and candy corns and warm toned leaves on it, the welcome mat that said, Hocus Pocus!, and all the little decorations that were perfectly arranged on the kitchen counter. You'd been proud of how perfect your home looked, how everything tied together so nicely. Now that Harry was here, though, you worried you'd overdone it. Or worse, he'd make you take it all back.

"Course I remember," Harry said. "You've only made me watch it every year since we've been together."

"I—I know it's a lot," you said, trying to hide a stuffed vampire holding a little pumpkin spiced latte behind you and out of his eyesight. "But you know I love decorating, I mean I did the whole house when we moved in—very tastefully, I might add—and I love the holidays an—and themes, and—You're laughing at me."

Harry shook his head, chuckling softly. He took your face in his hands and kissed your forehead. That was definitely not the reaction you were expecting. Some light teasing? Sure. Insisting you take at least some of it back? Probably. But you mentally crossed your fingers that you could keep it all. Right down to the mummy mugs and ghost candle holders.

"I've been waiting for this day, if I'm honest. I'm surprised it didn't come sooner. Starbucks changed their menu two weeks ago."

Blushing, you held Harry's hand as it rested on your cheek. "Do you hate it? If you hate it, I can scale it back."

"I love it," he said. "And I love you."

He led you to the couch where he took the same stuffed vampire you tried to hide and held it against his stomach. You took the blanket that rested on top of the couch and draped it over yourself and Harry, snuggling up close to his side. You kissed his cheek a couple times, stomach flipping when you felt his grin beneath your lips.

"No Halloween movies yet, because it's not October, but..."

"Way ahead of you," Harry said, reaching for the remote and firing up Netflix on the TV.

"I knew you liked the show as much as I do," you said with a grin.

"You realize it's actually quite hot out, right?" he said, but pulled you closer anyway as he made himself more comfortable.

You shushed him as the theme song played. You'd thought of that already, and the air conditioning was already pumping through the vents to make it the perfect temperature for hiding under the fluffy blanket. And drink warm drinks. And cuddle in bed with the twinkly lights you put up earlier while listening to music.

"I know it's silly. I know it's...a little over the top, but—"

"Hey, I think it's cute how excited you get over the holidays," he said. "And, just because I know how much you love Autumn, so I got you something."

"Autumn," you repeated, imitating his accent. "What did you get?"

"An appropriately themed seasonal puzzle that we can complete together."

Your eyes lit up immediately. "You bought us a puzzle?"

Harry kissed you repeatedly, his fingers holding your chin lovingly. "I happen to like this season too, you know. Not as much as you, but I do. And puzzles. And you. Easy math."

You sighed and rested against his chest, kissing him over the soft material of his shirt a few times. Harry said it was fine, but you could admit that your love for this particular season was a little intense. But you loved putting a room together, making it feel warm and inviting and festive. And each item you put in your cart was part of a vision you had, and once you had said vision, you had to make it come to life. It was how you ended up putting all the rooms together in the house when you and Harry moved in. He had input of course, but he knew you had a knack for decorating and trusted your judgement.

And you couldn't help but think of the future too. Yours and Harry's. You wanted to do this for your kids, to raise them in a home that was cheery and fun. It was something neither you nor Harry had yourselves growing up, so you wanted something new. New traditions that you could start together.

You couldn't wait to share a lifetime of feeling cozy and cuddling festive pillows with Harry. You couldn't wait to watch movies and do puzzles and make pumpkin flavored baked goods with him for the rest of your life, or sew costumes for your kids because what they wanted couldn't be found at the party store. You wanted all of it, and you wanted it with him.

"I really do love this show, you know. I'd never heard of it, and now I can quote it," Harry mumbled. His eyes were trained on the show playing in front of him while his fingers traced patterns on your arm idly. Then, he looked down at you and smiled. "Our first real tradition, don't you think?"

Your heart squeezed with delight. You knew Harry loved you, that was never a doubt in your mind. But hearing him say that, knowing that he had lofty visions of the future too, made you hold him just a little bit tighter.

#harry styles #boyfriendrry #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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abiiors · 4 months ago

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marigold's - ross x reader 🍂˚ ༘ ೀ🎃｡˚☕️

a/n: quite literally giggled and kicked my feet the entire time writing this fic!! also BAKER ROSS!!!! cw: nothing much really, just food and food related activities/conversations wc: 4.4k

it’s a crisp autumn morning when their eyes meet across the street. her heartbeat quickens, palms starting to sweat just a little. in the opposite window, ross stands still for a moment. her eyes narrow in his direction. recognition flares in them and then... hatred.

that pumpkin stealing bitch!

“you…” she seethes through her nostrils like a furious dragon. obviously, ross can’t hear her from across the street, but oh, he knows what he did. and she is sure that her face does in fact, betray all her emotions right now; anger, hatred and more anger.

ross gives her a sickly sweet smile in response and waves a cheery goodbye. then he turns around and walks away from the window, a pep in his step. it makes her brain go into emergency mode, funnily enough—anger eating away at the sane parts of it, no doubt!

the greater marigold’s is in a bit of an uproar today. suspiciously enough, everything seems to be going on normally across the street at (the inferior) marigold's. she immediately runs for her binoculars.

a collective sigh runs through the other baristas at the sight of it, but she does not have time for these trifles. she has to get to the bottom of something.

and there they all are, just as she suspected. big, ripe, orange, and double in quantity. the pumpkins that marigold's stole from the greater marigold's. or rather, the pumpkins that ross stole from her.

she’s sure of it.

she shifts her gaze to the window of the bakery. might as well get some additional spying done. and she sees him—already there—matching binoculars in hand. it’s like they are mirrors of each other. they might as well be.

for the better part of a year, she and ross have both been working hard towards being the head baker of their respective bakeries. no one has come out and said the words, but they both know it’s a race to the finish line. just like everything else.

that’s when she realises, this is her chance to step up and take charge of the situation. she can survive another day without murdering ross, but the bakery can’t survive without pumpkins. not on a beautiful autumn day like this.

her eyes narrow as she furiously begins to type, her coffee getting colder by the second in its cosy little mug. it can wait. this, however, cannot.

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] subject: thief! stop stealing our fucking pumpkins, you… you ghoul!!

there. that should fucking show him. with much satisfaction coursing through her veins, she reaches for her coffee, breathing in the rich aroma, dreaming of the first delicious sip when the laptop pings.

an email pops up.

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] subject: re: thief! ghoul? cute. stop stealing our recipes then and come up with your own :)

the coffee cup stills abruptly on its way to her lips, drink sloshing precariously while she gapes at the first email of the day. the one she’s just had the misfortune of reading—first the fucking pumpkins and now this. all before a single sip of coffee. the sheer audacity!

there’s the familiar urge to glare across the street, at the all too familiar glass windows, all the way to the man inside; the familiar urge to turn him into a toad with her withering glare alone. still, she resists, takes a dainty little sip of the coffee. it tastes like shit—likely the doing of the stupid email and the stupid man.

she huffs, fingers running angrily across the keyboard.

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] subject: re: thief! seems like you’re projecting? the recipe has been in our family for decades :)) return our pumpkins.

there. that seems sufficiently saccharine and sarcastic. and sent.

the next sip of the coffee she takes tastes better than the last, sweeter even, until there’s another ping on the computer. another email popping up. all the warmth in her belly turns to hot, burning irritation.

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] subject: re: thief! marco’s older. the recipe is his. :))) how are they your pumpkins? we paid for them

little shit! the smiley face in the email grates on her nerves. how dare he try to turn this on her?! he’s the thief, she mutters to herself, stomping her feet to the coffee machine and prepping for the day.

it’s bound to be a long one. shitty too judging by the lack of the pumpkins.

marigold's isn’t just a bakery, it’s an institution. and its head baker-to-be does not fuck around.

ross glances at the surplus of pumpkins in the kitchen. sure, they might not have needed that many, and sure they would have to give some away at the end of the day, but he knows the other bakery does not have any for the day.

maybe he’ll just work on a few more autumn recipes with them. he has no doubt they’ll taste just a little sweeter now that he’s seen the pure annoyance on her face—the way her forehead scrunches up, nostrils flared and the way her eyes narrow into what she thinks is a glare. to ross it’s about as scary as a little rabbit.

it’s adorable that she should even entertain the idea that it’s scary.

his boss, the older (and objectively the better) of the two brothers, can be dealt with. marco loves ross, loves all his recipes and the little tricks he likes to pull on ty, the younger of the two brothers. their rivalry is an enigma to him.

it’s not just sibling rivalry—not just healthy competition. there’s so much more to it that he’d never been told. all he knows about it is that there was a big fight, marigold's split up because of it, and now the world has the "other one".

but ross has decided, a long time ago, that he won’t be caught in the cross-fire of it. not when he can be put to much better use as marco’s right hand man.

he can’t resist sneaking a look at the modern, sleek bakery in front of theirs. everything about it is off to him—the slightly different font spelling out “the greater marigold's” in neat, cursive letters. they’re freshly painted too. not the chipped and slightly worn but comforting look he associates with marigold's.

she’s leaving the bakery in a hurry, ross sees. her face is arranged in a careful, determined look. he looks at the clock and smirks. nowhere on a monday morning would have enough fresh pumpkins to sustain a bakery for the day.

there’s a pumpkin spice haze in the air, ross thinks. marco even gives him a pat on the back when he sees ty throwing a hissy fit in his office through his binoculars.

ross thinks back to just a few months ago, during the summer—how he’d managed to sneak in to the greater marigold's when she was on her break, and purchased one of the last remaining lemon-caramel muffins that had been selling like hotcakes for the last two weeks.

lemon and caramel, he’d scoffed before biting into the giant thing, what a stupid combination.

and now he remembers the way his eyes had rolled in the back of his head, the involuntary moan he’d let out on the sidewalk. they were the best fucking thing he’d had all summer.

caramel, yes.

he’d make something with caramel.

had she been there in the kitchen at marigold's that day, she would have described it as heaven—the smell of fresh pastry, the blend of pumpkin and caramel. there’s a hint of cloves and cinnamon in there too, she would have thought.

mostly, though, she would have looked at the baker—at his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tattoos peeking. at the way he kneads the dough until it’s soft and fluffy. the painstaking concentration he displays while making the pumpkin and caramel filling, his dimples on full display when he tastes his creation and finds it has exceeded expectation.

she would have looked at him to study his technique, of course.

alas, that’s not how it goes.

by the time she gets back to the greater marigold's, sad little pumpkin in hand, ty is waiting for her.

“you’re my star!” he says, gesticulating wildly, shaking his head in disappointment. “how could you let that happen? no pumpkin desserts in autumn, it’s a shame.”

and it is a shame, she thinks. there were recipes she’d thought to try. something new and exciting just like her lemon caramel muffins from summer—something that would have made ty promote her to head baker on spot!

“our suppliers deliver to marigold's first,” she mumbles, but ty is too busy cursing at marco, muttering his name under his breath. she supposes her excuses and explanations don’t matter.

the problem isn’t the lack of pumpkins, the problem is that marco (ross) won.

“i’ll make sure it won’t happen again,” she promises.

ty takes one long hard look at her, then looks back at marigold's. she thinks something almost nostalgic flickers on his face then, but that’s a stupid thought, right? the brothers hate each other just like she and ross hate each other.

some gaps can never be bridged.

a second passes and ty rubs the bridge of his nose. “no,” he says, “it won’t.”

she looks down at the ground like a little kid that just got told off. ross… is going to pay for this. oh how she wishes one of those pumpkins would blow up in his annoyingly handsome face…

the rest of the day, it seems, is well on track to going downhill. she feels herself dying a little on the inside every time she has to tell a customer that they indeed do not have pumpkin spice lattes today.

yes, it’s not even noon yet.

no, they haven’t ran out.

we are so sorry ma’am.

something went wrong with the pumpkin shipment.

she should take that small sad pumpkin she managed to get and throw it through marigold's window, ugh!

in an hour their new trainee gets tired of dealing with people’s questions. “you can try marigold's for pumpkin spice latte, we are currently out,” he says.

almost in unison, a gasp runs through the other baristas. head after head turns to look at her as if she’s a volcano about to erupt. and maybe she is… the boy cowers, realising he probably said the worst thing he could have. she simply smiles at him—lips stretched over her teeth, canines visible—and turns to the customer.

“we are sorry about the lattes, ma’am,” deep breath in. deep breath out. you need to sound human, not like a growling animal, “something went wrong with the pumpkin shipment today.”

“they ran out of PSLs! PSLs!” the customer’s voice rises an octave higher, and ross smiles from behind the divider.

he’s busy making sure the big batch of caramel doesn’t burn, and eavesdropping of course… subconsciously, his gaze flicks towards the other bakery and the girl within. he wonders if she’s so angry the tip of her nose has gone all red, he wonders if she stomped back to the oven like he’s seen her do before.

ross stirs the caramel. it’s nice and thick now, smells delicious too, but his arms strain with the effort. there’s a thought that’s pushing around in his brain. ross wishes she could try some of the doughnuts he’s going to make. he wishes for a brief five minutes they can set the rivalry aside and he could spoon some of the filling into her mouth—watch her as she savours it, letting the sweetness linger on her tongue.

he wonders if she’d sigh and moan like he had after that muffin.

then he wonders if he’s lost his mind because this is a truly ridiculous line of thought.

he curses under his breath, stirring a little more aggressively than needed. why does she have to be so... infuriating?

it’s another hour before he has to let go of the doughnut recipe he’s been working on all afternoon. all of it needs to chill in the fridge for a few hours, he can’t hurry it in his excitement. the doughnuts need to be perfect. not because of her, of course—he isn’t making them for her—but because marco expects nothing less.

besides, the satisfaction of one-upping the greater marigold’s, of seeing that familiar look of frustration on her face when she realises her defeat, would simply be a sweet little byproduct.

there’s a quiet little ping the moment he closes the fridge behind him.

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] subject: re: thief! 1) we were going to pay for them before you hoarded them with your grubby little fingers. 2) marco can keep his stuffy old recipe, ty’s is better anyway :)))) 3) you suck.

ross blinks. then looks across the street and blinks some more. try as he might, he can’t seem to fight the smile that worms its way onto his face. try as he might he can’t stop his brain from conjuring up images—of her sitting in front of the computer, nose scrunched, fingers typing furiously.

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] subject: re: thief! think about my fingers a lot do you? at least try my recipe before bashing it.

her cheeks are about as red as the apples in the kitchen, she’s sure of it.

think about my fingers a lot do you?

no she fucking doesn’t! she never has and never will! what’s it to her if he uses his big hands with the slender fingers to knead the dough until it’s soft and fluffy? what’s it to her if he uses his toned arms to lift up heavy bags of flour and sugar and cocoa? what’s it to her if he does anything inside that stupid bakery of his?!

she huffs, ready to fire off a reply of her own, when the second line of the email finally registers in her brain.

at least try my recipe before bashing it.

why should she? it’s going to be rancid and possibly full of rat poison or laxatives or something. she’s sure of it. she turns her nose up at the email, primly clicking out of the tab.

she won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it affected her even a little. she won’t give him any satisfaction at all.

it works for a bit—working in the kitchen and taking up more jobs than necessary—it distracts her for a good few hours. the sun makes its slow descent west, dousing the bakery with warm golden light.

this is one of her favourite things about the greater marigold’s—how everything turns golden at a certain time of the evening when the waning light of the sun touches it. she even likes to sit by the window for a small break then, sipping on whatever drink she fancies, munching on a small croissant maybe.

that is until she sighs into her mug of hot chocolate, and opens her eyes to ross grinning at her from across the street. she narrows her eyes at him, his smile turns brighter, almost a laugh now.

he has dimples, she realises for the millionth time. and just like every other time, her lungs stop working for just a second.

ross lifts up a finger to his mouth and taps above his lip. she frowns, and then mirrors his action, mortified when the finger comes back soaked in chocolate and cream.

shit. he saw her with a chocolate moustache like a fucking toddler!

her face flushes. ross laughs, and laughs harder when she sticks his tongue out at him. she does something wholly unfamiliar then, something that goes so much against her instincts that it feels alien for a moment; but she studies him, studies his face and the tray in his hands filled with delicious doughnuts that aren’t even baked yet and still they look so mouth-watering.

at least try my recipe before bashing it.

should she take him up on his offer?

ross quirks an eyebrow when he catches her looking, equally as interested in her as she is in him at the moment. then his eyes slide to the door to marigold’s and back to hers. a silent invitation. he means it then—his offer is genuine.

and try as she might, she can’t get herself to ignore the doughnuts and their maker.

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] subject: poison how do i know they’re not poisoned?

ross laughs—no, he actually guffaws when the email comes through. two email chains in one day… anyone else might have thought there was something there. not him though. he can’t be thinking things like these…

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] subject: re: poison if they were, would i tell you?

he looks across the street at the other bakery even though he can’t see her. the sun’s properly gone down now, the twilight giving way to the night. there are more people milling about the street—going home from work or out on an evening stroll. ross looks at the window and smiles fondly.

the image is burned in his head now—her sitting by the window, upper lip coated in chocolate and head thrown back mid sigh. fuck, he had no business staring at her the way he had. no business teasing her about the moustache or inviting her to marigold’s again!

and even now, ross can’t help but imagine the expression on her face—the suspicious squinting of her otherwise huge eyes, the subtle jutting-out of her bottom lip.

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] subject: re: poison at least this email thread would serve as evidence if i died

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] subject: re: poison so you’re taking me up on my offer then

ross holds his breath as the email whooshes out of his inbox and into hers. who knows how long it will stay there? what if she just decides not to respond and leaves him hanging?! but his heart lurches in his chest when the inbox refreshes, one unread email at the top.

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] subject: re: poison my shift ends in 15

he fidgets for fourteen minutes and fifty-seven seconds of it, only getting himself together when the bells chime and he sees her looking around, a little lost. her hair is no longer in a bun, instead it hangs down her shoulders, framing her face perfectly. ross clears his throat and instantly gets her attention.

he leans against the counter, arms crossed. the stance is meant to be casual, cool and aloof, and yet he doesn’t miss the way her eyes quickly graze over his biceps, over his forearms. how interesting…

“you came,” ross says, his voice laced with more surprise than he intended.

she hums, and there’s no judgement behind it—just a hint of that exasperation that may or may not be the teasing kind. “had to check out the competition, didn’t i,” she says coolly, walking toward the tray that still sits on the counter.

ross watches her as she takes marigold’s in. has she never been in here before? granted he’s only been to the greater marigold’s only once—to sneakily eat her muffins. shit, he’d have to erase the cctv before marco realises and goes ballistic.

he watches her with baited breath, waiting for her to finish her inspection.

“your bakery’s empty,” she notes, and ross looks around as if realising that for the first time.

he shrugs. “we close an hour before you do.”

she nods, then gestures towards the tray on the counter. he can practically see the gears turning in her head, sense more of the questions that he’s about to be asked.

“what’s in it?”

“caramel,” he answers without missing a beat.

“and?”

a shit-eating grin. “pumpkins…”

she falters a little, fighting the tiny smile on her face.

“and…?”

“usual doughnut things?”

she levels her stare at ross again. it’s a bit of a shock then—of course it is. he’s never been in such close proximity to her. the closest they’ve come before this when the brothers got into a heated argument in the middle of the street and their respective staff had to drag marco and ty back to their offices. he remembers how she’d scoffed at him then, sticking her tongue out as if that were the epitome of a good burn.

it’s also a bit of a shock to him because in the warm, golden lighting of marigold’s, ross can see the precise colour of her eyes (so much different than he’d thought), the exact shape of them and their intensity.

he looks at her and, perhaps for the first time, realises just how much he enjoys looking at her.

“don’t be smart with me,” she holds up a finger, threatening.

then the finger pokes him in the chest. “laxatives?” she asks.

ross frowns. “no—”

“ooh, i get it. salt instead of sugar.”

“uh—”

“too much cinnamon? wait, wait, cayenne pepper instead of cinnamon!”

ross watches her, amused, as her brain spits out idea after idea—all outlandish, all highly improbable. she’s halfway through guessing uranium (???) when he lightly grabs her by her elbow, halting her mid-sentence, and stuffs the doughnut in her open mouth.

his finger touches something incredibly soft then—her lip, he realises with a mix of every emotion he’s ever felt. and thrill. so much thrill. his thumb is touching her bottom lip, lingering there, even though he should have pulled his hand back moments ago.

she’s probably thinking along the same lines because her gaze dips down—first to the doughnut, half in her mouth and half out, and then to his hand, still by her lips. and then she bites down.

ross waits. one beat, then another, then another.

time slows as she chews, swallows and then, just as he’s about to be impatient and demand she tell him how they are, she licks her lips. right over the spot his fingers so briefly touched.

involuntarily, ross shivers, gripping the countertop just a little.

“so?” he asks, his voice just a little hoarser than before. “are they poisoned?”

she doesn’t answer immediately, letting the silence hang thick between them. she just takes another bite, this time on her own accord, and closes her eyes as she chews, making a show of it. ross doesn’t realise he’s practically gawking until her eyes snap open, and she finally speaks.

“no,” she says slowly, dragging the word out, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “but they’re dangerous.”

he blinks. “dangerous?”

she swallows another bite and nods, stepping just a little closer, closing the distance between them. “quite addictive,” she says in a low voice, the teasing evident, as if she’s revelling in the way his face flushes ever so slightly at her proximity.

ross huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “you’re terrible.”

she doesn’t bother answering that. instead, she finishes the doughnut in two more bites and then swipes another one from the tray. he tries not to notice the warmth that blooms in his chest.

“they’re inspired by you,” he admits shyly, finally allowing himself to pick up a doughnut and taste it. and yeah it’s fucking good! it’s better than when he’d tasted just the filling earlier today.

“me?” she points to herself, voice muffled.

“your lemon-caramel muffins from this summer.”

she ahhs in understanding, remembering the baked delights from just a few months ago, before her eyes narrow in suspicion. “when did you try them?”

ross gives her an easy smile. “i snuck in when you were on your break.”

she gasps, ever dramatic. “so you are a thief!”

ross throws his hands up. “i paid for them!”

“if i knew you were buying i would have charged double,” she challenges, standing on her toes all the way to look down his nose at him. not that it works much—he towers over her regardless.

ross steps even closer, bending down, his voice deep and soft like he’s confessing a secret. “i sweet-talked the barista, gave her a smile, and she gave them to me for half off.” and then he erupts into laughter as her face goes slack and then indignant and then finally pouty.

“a thief and a flirt!” she accuses.

“only one of them,” he concedes.

for a moment, they both just stand there, the tension between them crackling like electricity in the warm light of the bakery. he’s fully aware now—how close she is, how she smells faintly of vanilla and spice, how her eyes are much more alive than he had ever realised before. and she’s watching him too, her gaze flickering between his eyes, his lips, and back again.

it’s a moment. they’re having a moment.

but then something happens—errant noise from the traffic, or creaks of the old building, or one of the million things that could have happened—and the moment is over. she steps back. fidgeting with her hands.

then, as if thinking twice about it, swipes another doughnut.

“thanks for these,” she holds it up, smiling in earnest. “i’m glad i got to taste them.”

“me too,” he nods, still just a little breathless.

“i should go,” she mentions, lingering a little.

“mm-hmm,” he nods. she’s right, it is getting a little late. he has no idea how far away she lives or how long it would take her to get home or if she has plans she’s getting late for.

“right then,” she slaps a hand on the counter and then turns on her heels, brushing past him, her shoulder grazing his arm as she makes her way to the door. ross’s body tingles from the touch, and he watches her go, follows her out of the bakery just because.

she looks to the right once, then left and right again, before crossing the street. halfway through though, her steps falter. ross seizes the chance.

“oi!” he calls out and she turns, dazzling him with a brilliant smile, warm enough to stave away the late september chill in the air. “see you around?”

she swallows hard. “yeah,” she breathes out.

it’s a crisp autumn night when their eyes meet across the street. ross’ heartbeat quickens, and his palms start to sweat just a little.

#autumn fics #seasons #the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross x reader #ross x you

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writer-by-the-sea · 5 months ago

Text

I had the urge (Elliott SDV x you)

He always sits in the same spot, next to the windows, as far away from the doors as he can get.

I only wish he would notice me.

Continue reading or read on AO3

WARNING: Explicit, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Yandere Elliott (kind of), Reader First person POV & Elliott First person POV, Alternate Universe

The Bartisa

He always sits in the same spot, next to the windows, as far away from the doors as he can get. A laptop sits in front of him, but he only ever types a few words before going back to his coffee. An oat milk latte with a half pump of vanilla syrup. Sometimes he’ll mix it up and ask for pumpkin syrup instead.

Otherwise, it’s the same thing every day.

When he first came in, I couldn’t help but notice him. Wearing a dark red jacket that was perfectly tailored to his form, along with a pair of forest green slacks, a white button up shirt, and a light green tie. The outfit shouldn't have made sense, but on him; it did.

His long auburn hair practically shimmered in the light, undeniably soft although I’ve never touched it, filled with products I could only dream of affording. A strong jaw that flexed each time he swallowed, and a smile that never fully reached his eyes.

He carried himself with an air of confidence that always made me nervous. Putting his good looks aside that is. Because he checked off all my boxes and my crush grew stronger with each passing day.

“Good morning,” he would greet me, smiling down at me, casually carrying his laptop bag on his shoulder. “Could I have the usual? Pumpkin this time?”

While he was considered a usual at this point, he was the only customer of whom I actually memorized their order. “Sure!” I turned away and cursed myself for shouting directly into his face, the heat building so intensely in my face I thought I might pass out.

My coworker, Sebastian, snorted a laugh at me. He covered his mouth and tried to play it off like a cough, but his laughter was obvious. He knew of my borderline obsessive crush on the man, how I looked forward to his appearance at the start of every shift, how I even tried to find him online to stalk his social media to no end.

He wasn’t online. The man was a complete mystery. I didn’t know if he was writing novels in the corner of the cafe, or if he was just answering emails all day. He didn’t seem like the type to write ‘per my last email.’

I liked to imagine it was a romance story, where the handsome rich writer fell for the poor frumpy barista.

Coffee in hand, I placed it on the counter in front of him, smiling up at him in a way that begged for him to finally notice me, to grab me and pull me over the counter for a kiss that’s all tongue and desperation. To tell everyone to leave while he stares me down and slowly removes his tie before nailing me against the counter, encouraging me to scream his name–

“Thanks,” he nodded and walked away to his corner, sitting down and not looking my way for the rest of the day.

-------------------------

Elliott

The coffee was perfect, as always. Hot, oat milk, not too sweet, well blended. And the cute barista’s face nearly turned to fire while I placed my order, just as they always did.

They were cute. Beyond cute. They had no idea the thoughts that went through my mind every morning. How I stared at their backside as they made my coffee, squeezing my hands into fists to stop myself from leaping over the counter and claiming what belongs to me.

But I knew I had to bid my time. Approaching them now would ruin everything I’ve planned, and I didn’t have time to play with the poor thing, as tempting as it was.

I traced my finger over the rim of my mug, stealing a glance as they helped another customer. A man who was leaning against the counter, smirking at my barista as he ordered, reaching across to point their nametag and compliment them on their name. “Do you serve anything as hot as you here?”

“Ben,” they shook their head, pasting on a fake smile for the annoying customer. “No, what do you want?”

“A slice of that sweet ass and your phone number.”

They blushed.

And my mug shattered against the floor.

The man turned around and glared, my barista took the opportunity to leave the customer to their coworker and ran to my side. I narrowed my eyes at the other customer and raised my upper lip just a touch, enough to say ‘don’t even think of it.’

For some reason, my barista was apologizing to me for the shattered mug, they thought it was too hot and that I dropped it in shock. They cursed lightly to themselves, waving their hand to try and relieve the pain of a fresh cut from the glass. I chuckled and got onto my knees beside them, placing my hands over theirs as they attempted to continue picking up the shards of sharp glass.

“Darling, this wasn’t your fault. It was all my own. Please, allow me . We wouldn’t want you to further cut those beautiful hands of yours.” I turned their hand over, bringing their palm up to my lips to leave a small kiss over the cut. “There,” I said, giving their hand a small squeeze. “All better.”

That broke them.

They looked back and forth between my eyes and their hands, a loss of words, but their face burning with embarrassment. I simply continued picking up the pieces of glass, my hands long ago becoming tough enough that a broken mug would hardly scratch me.

We stood together, my barista still speechless. I took a rag that was hanging on their hip, letting my hand linger there a moment against the thin cotton material of their work uniform. I placed the glass into the rag and held it up for them to take.

They took it wordlessly, giving me a quick awkward bow of their head before running off back behind the counter and into the office.

I tried not to laugh out loud at the high pitched squeal that followed and scared the hell out of everyone in the cafe.

I decided that maybe I did have some time to play after all.

-------------------------

The Barista

Sebastian offered to take over the counter for a bit while I collected myself in the manager's office. “If that squeal was any louder the windows would have shattered.”

But he hadn’t seen what happened! I hugged my injured hand to my chest, swaying back and forth as I played it over and over in my head.

The way Elliott smiled after he kissed my cut, how his voice dropped deeper, so deep I felt it shiver down my spine and straight to my–

I covered my face with my hands, groaning into them.

I should have said something, anything. Instead I stood there like a mime, waiting for the show to end and for the sexy customer to go home.

After what felt only like five minutes, but was more like a full hour and a half, I finally left the office to get back to work. Luckily, it wasn’t too busy.

Elliott still sat at his table, only talking quietly into his phone, and sipping on a new coffee that I assume Sebastion made for him.

“Hey,” Sebastian whispered beside me, poking me in my arm with a heavy piece of paper. “He asked me to give this to you.”

I nearly squealed again, it was a business card, with a message scribbled across the bottom.

Elliott Humble

Humble Construction

xxx-xxx-xxx

Call me <3

Tearing my eyes away from the card I looked up to where Elliott was sitting. He was already gazing back at me, sending me a quick wink before focusing on his call again.

Sebastian gave me permission to go back into the office and melt into the floor with my happiness.

-------------------------

Elliott.....

I sighed as I pulled on my leather gloves, rotating my right shoulder and turning my neck until I heard a small crack. “That’s the best feeling,” I mumbled and began the same process on my left.

“Please,” his voice was quiet, exhausted, begging for mercy.

“Willy, be a dear.”

The man cried out, the rattle of the chains that bound his wrists to the gas line creaking as Willy dealt yet another blow to the man’s stomach. “Don’t speak unless spoken’ to.”

“You don’t understand! They don’t mean anything to me!”

“They don’t?” I asked in return, my hands sliding into my pockets as I turned to approach the two.

Willy smirked and stepped aside, his worn clothing spattered with blood; and the man hanging by the chains bloodied and beaten. “Sounds like he don’t care bout’ your person, boss.”

“Indeed,” I said and crouched down to face the man whose life was, unfortunately for him, in my hands. He head hung down, his sobbing filling my warehouse in a pathetic show of of his weakness.

I grabbed him by the jaw and forced him to look at me, squeezing hard enough for him to cry out, hard enough until I felt his teeth and bones begin to give in.

“I swear!” he tried to cry out. “I was just messing around! I wasn’t even looking at them!”

Willy whistled, “messin’ with your person? For fun?”

“We can’t have that, now can we?” I grinned up at Willy before standing and reaching back into my pocket.

“So, which goes first?” I asked and pulled Ben up to his feet. “Your left eye, or your right eye?” I held the knife in front of his face, the last thing he would ever see.

"No, no no, please!-"

“I’ll make sure you never dare to look at them again.”

#yandere #yandere elliott #elliott x farmer #stardew valley #stardew elliott #elliott x reader #sdv elliott #stardew valley elliott #elliott stardew valley #elliott sdv #elliot stardew valley #alternate universe #elliott x you #gender neutral reader

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missuswalker · 1 year ago

Note

UHMM HIII I LOVE UR WRITING SO SO MUCH ITS SO GOOD!!! uhm if ur taking requests,, do you think you could something domestic and smutty with a married reader x kit walker ,,, doing the do by the fireplace when he gets home from work,, feel free to change the prompt or not do this entirely i promise i dont mind ❤️❤️ u gotta do whats best for u!!

𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐲 || 𝐤𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♰ summary: kit has to work overtime, but knows it’ll be worth it when he comes home for a quickie

♰ warnings: cute kit smut (not a warning, a blessing) piv, short, definitely not proofread

♰ notes: WHAT? by far fav request - ALSO YOURE SO SWEET WHAT?? ILY BE MY BFF 4EVERA (also who wants to be a sweetheart and work with me, it would be so fun to have a partner omg)

also, can someone give me feedback on what i can improve on?? i’ve never been super great at smut writing and i really wanna get better, you can just drop it in the ask box (i already know i should be more detailed, i need tips on that) 🎀 also, what pov do y’all want these in? 1st, 3rd, or keep it 2nd??

while kit didn’t work late every day, it happened enough for you to know that he’d be extra tired when he got home. you currently stood over the sink, finishing up the dishes left over from making dinner. it was a quiet night, the house warm and dimly lit, your dog, pumpkin, curled up on the couch. a scratchy record spun on the player, the faint sound of one of frank sinatra’s christmas vinyls producing a cozy vibe in the living room.

the back door clicks, kit shuffling in and dropping his work over-shirt on the counter. “hey, suga’,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “hey, there,” you smile, feeling soft kisses being pressed against the side of your neck. kit was always a sweetheart, no matter how tired he was.

the poor thing was so overworked, you could tell. you turn, giving your husband a quick kiss. “go sit down, dinner’s on the table. i’ll make you some tea,” you offer, pushing him out of the kitchen and tossing his work shirt into the laundry room. “you’re a doll,” he grins, giving you a wink. with a playful roll of your eyes, you step back into the kitchen, putting a kettle on the stove.

as you wait for the water to boil, you peek into the dining room, where kit ate dinner by alone. checking the clock on the wall, you’re surprised by how late it had actually was. you felt bad for kit, wishing there was more you could do than just make him tea.

well.

pouring the water into a mug and dropping in a tea bag, you return to kit, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “here, hon. leave the plate, we can go sit on the couch, watch some tv if you’re not too tired,” you say, rubbing his back. he smiles up at you, taking the mug into his own hand. “that sounds nice,” he nods, standing and leading you into the living room.

he sets his tea on the coffee table, shooing pumpkin away. “get off the couch, dog, you’ve got a whole bed right there,” he huffs, pumpkin grunting and flopping over on the floor. “you gonna die anytime soon?” kit teases, nudging the poor old dog with his foot. “kit,” you gasp, smacking his shoulder. he hated that damn dog, it got on his last nerve, leaving fur all over his furniture and holes in his yard, but you loved the thing.

“he can’t even move, baby, you think he’s gonna live another 3 years?” kit jokes, raising an eyebrow. (surprise, pumpkin lived another four years, much to kit’s dismay.) “i thought you loved dogs,” you scoff, bending over to pat pumpkin’s head. “that’s not a dog, that’s the devil. he stands up and talks to me when you’re not around,” he teases, smirking down at you. “oh, yeah? what’s he say?” you ask, unamused. kit pretends to think for a moment, tapping his chin. “that he’s gonna take over my house, eat all our food.”

you shake your head, standing again and putting your hands on your hips. “pumpkin loves you, you be good to him,” you scold, pointing a finger at your silly husband. he just grins, bringing your hand to his lips. he looks around, noticing how dark it’d gotten. “i’m gonna make a fire,” kit announces, moving to kneel at the fireplace, sliding in a few logs. he pulls an old lighter from his pocket, lighting some kindling, and throwing it into the mix.

pumpkin stands, trotting off once the fire is lit. “don’t you go get on my bed,” kit shouts, though pumpkin’s probably already beat him to it. you roll your eyes, sitting down next to him on the carpet. “be nice to him, he’s old,” you say, though you couldn’t seem to hold back your laugh. kit chuckles, pulling you into his side. his lips find your neck again, the crackling of the fire soft.

“you could be real nice to me, y’know,” kit says, his hand finding the hem of your dress, tugging on it. you should’ve seen that coming, but your cheeks still heat up. “kit, it’s late,” you say, putting your hand over his. “c’mon angel, i need to be in that pretty pussy. work was killin’ me today, i couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he mumbles, nipping at your shoulder.

his words drive you crazy, and not even a minute later, you’re letting him lay you back against the carpet. god, did this man have you wrapped around his finger. “you don’t even know how beautiful you are. make me loose my mind, those eyes,” he rambles, kissing your cheek and lifting your dress. you couldn’t tell if the fire was making you hot or if it was kit. he sits up on his knees, pushing his pants down with a sense of urgency.

“let me,” you tell him, hooking your finger in the band of his briefs and sliding them off. you repeat this action with your own underwear, letting the lace drop around your ankles. “i’ll be quick, i swear,” he says, tugging on your legs so they wrap loosely around his hips. “it’s alright,” you say, shaking your head. kit was always in a rush when he was tired, but you’d gotten used to the quick rounds around the house.

“is this alright,” he asks, bringing the palm of you hand to his lips as the head of his cock prods at your entrance. you nod, wiggling your hips a bit to get more comfortable. you were already dripping, something as simple as kits words could get you going. he leans down, kissing you sweetly as he buries himself in your cunt, letting out a sigh. “feels so good, always so good f’me,” he praises, kissing your chin and your nose. your hips buck against his, giving him the signal to move.

he brushes his thumb against your clit, sending a spark to your core. it wasn’t long before both of you were coming undone, kits face buried in the crook of your neck. “so, so pretty, i love you so much. my beautiful girl,” he huffs, thrusting into you one last time. you could feel his grin against your neck, you already knew he was going to say something stupid.

“maybe in nine months i’ll have two beautiful girls.”

“go to bed.”

urghh not my best?? i love him so much though

i’ve been imagining him as a girl dad because he’s the perfect girl dad but he’d be so happy to be playing catch with a son who wants to be just like him omg ☹️☹️

ok nvm just thought about him wearing a tiara and having a tea party with his daughter

i’ll probably read this later and fix any spelling mistakes but i’m exhausted

#x reader #kit walker #kit walker x reader #kit walker x y/n #kit walker smut #kit walker blurb #ahs asylum #american horror asylum #american horror story asylum #american horror story #evan peters #evan peters x reader #kai anderson x reader #tate langdon x reader #james march x reader #jimmy darling x reader #kyle spencer x reader

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soprawrites · 3 months ago

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In the Dark

Shinji Hirako x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🎃୧ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ Prompt 3 from Spooktober Prompts List

🕸️ CW: sfw, established relationship, gender-neutral reader, fluff, haunted houses

🕸️ WC: 1,233

🕸️ Notes: Wanted to write something small for Halloween! Saw the prompt from the list and immediately thought of Shinji. Divider credit: @estrelinha-s

It’s a crisp fall night, the moon high up in the sky and casting down its silvery glow. It’s the perfect night to cuddle up with a nice cozy blanket, warm mug in your hand as you read a book or watch a movie. Instead, however, you find yourself at a Halloween festival with Shinji. He had surprised you with a date, saying that the two of you should partake in the festivities before the spooky season is over and done with. You went along with him, curious to see where he would take you.

The festival is decorated with all sorts of Halloween decor; pumpkins with faces carved into them, skeletons propped up throughout various areas, fake spider webs lining bushes and trees, lights strung about and giving the place an orange glow. The people working the event are also dressed in costumes, adding to the vibe. There are a couple of food stalls selling themed treats and various goods vendors as well. The festival also contains a couple of attractions; a small pumpkin patch, a theater that’s playing Halloween movies, and a haunted house. Eerie music plays in the background completing the atmosphere.

“Well, whaddaya think?” Shinji asks, a wide toothy grin on his face.

“It’s cute! Definitely gets me in the Halloween spirit.”

“Good, let’s go to the haunted house!” Shinji grabs your hand, leading you towards the very end of the festival where the haunted house sits, dark and looming.

“Shinji, right off the bat? Don’t you want to do something else first? I think I saw that we could carve our own pumpkins over there.” You point in the opposite direction toward the pumpkin patch, pulling your hand out of his grasp and trying to halt him in his tracks. He glances back at you, an annoying and cocky smirk on his face.

“What, ya scared?”

Rolling your eyes, you sigh playfully. “No, that’s not it. Don’t you wanna save the best for last? I don’t want to do the house right away.”

He glances at the haunted house and then back at you before his face splits again, a teasing gleam in his warm brown eyes. “It’s ok if ya don’t wanna. All ya hafta do is admit it.”

“Ugh, fine! You want to do the haunted house so bad then let's go and get it over with.” You rush past him in the direction of the haunted attraction, standing in the short line. Shinji follows after you, snickering at your reaction as he stands next to you. You fight the urge to smile from his laughter—it always makes you laugh without a doubt—but you can tell that he can see the amusement on your face.

As the line moves down, your turn gets closer and closer as you hear screams coming from the inside of the building. When it’s finally your turn, the attendant gives you a smile that sends a shiver down your spine before wishing you both good luck. Shinji holds his hand out to you as you walk inside the house. “Wanna hold my hand?”

“It’s ok.” You ignore him as you take a look at the decorations around you, Shinji huffing and rolling his eyes at your dismissal. It seems they’re going for a more old-fashioned theme, the house having rugged vintage furnishings and decor. If you recall correctly from the sign outside, the house is supposedly haunted by the old lord of the estate and his victims. It’s a somewhat classic theme, but you're interested to see where it goes nonetheless.

“This place is way too gaudy fer my tastes.” Shinji criticizes as he eyes an ornate table in one corner. “Hmm, you think? Don’t you have a lamp similar to that though?” You question, pointing out to an antique lamp that looks very similar to the one Shinji has in his room. “Mine looks nothin’ like that.” He dismisses, an impassive expression on his face. You raise your eyebrow, about to retort when a loud bang sounds behind the both of you. Startled, you jump as you glance behind you and see a scare actor looking at you creepily. Exchanging a glance with Shinji, the both of you continue your pace down the hall, working your way through the haunted mansion.

As you make your way through, a variety of jump scares occur; flickering lights, more loud and creepy noises, and actors coming out to surprise you. You take them all in stride, only a handful of them scaring you and making you jump and stand a little closer to Shinji. You can feel the smug aura radiating off of him whenever that happens and you just know that he’s thriving off of seeing you scared and moving closer to him. Though you bet he wants more—to see you clutching onto him or holding his hand—you don’t want to give him that satisfaction.

You both finally make your way toward the final bit of the haunted attraction, the exit in sight. Before you can make it any closer to the exit, however, the lights suddenly go out, making you unable to see anything in front of you. It’s a bit unnerving as you try to feel around in front of you, not wanting to trip.

“Aww, are ya so afraid of the dark that ya need me to hold yer hand?” You can hear the smug smirk in his voice, but before you comment on it his words hit you. “Uhh, I’m not holding your hand Shinji.” There’s a brief moment of silence as Shinji processes what you said.

“Then whose…”

His voice trails off, when suddenly the dim lights flicker back on. You blink your eyes a couple of times—having gotten used to the dark—when the sight before you makes you pause. Shinji is standing in front of you, holding hands with a scare actor dressed as a dead old lady who is staring at him with a haunted look on her face. He lets out a short yell as he yanks his hand out of her grasp, grabbing your wrist and making a beeline for the exit. You’re laughing, tears coming out of your eyes, as he drags you out and away from the haunted house. He doesn’t stop until you’re further away from the attraction.

“Alright, ya can stop laughin’ now. It wasn’t that funny.” Shinji grumbles, mouth set straight and looking unimpressed.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry. Right.” You take a deep breath to compose yourself but when you look at Shinji, you start laughing again. “Sorry, I just,” a few more giggles slip past your lips as you wipe a stray tear from the corner of your eye, “it was just so funny! You should’ve seen the look on your face.”

He rolls his eyes at your hysterical state, but seeing the way you laugh—face bright and uninhibited—has him softening his face, smiling gently. If you laughing at his expense is a way for him to see you radiant and lively, then he’d do it all over again just to see you smile.

“Whatever.” He grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together. “Wanna carve those pumpkins now?”

“Sure! I’m gonna try to carve your face just now so that you can see how funny you looked.”

On second thought, maybe he takes it back.

#bleach #bleach imagines #bleach scenarios #halloween scenarios #shinji hirako #shinji hirako x reader

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kinascum · 1 year ago

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OUR MOMENTS - M. STURNIOLO

WARNINGS: none

NOTES: you might have seen this in my old bc re-wrote it and posted it here again whoopsie

As autumn approaches and the last days of summer fade away, you and your companion both find yourselves appreciating the newfound tranquility. The backyard pool, once a hub of activity and laughter, now lays silent, save for the occasional gust of wind that ripples its surface. The air grows cooler, but it only serves to draw you both closer together, wrapped in each other's company. You cherish these peaceful moments, savoring the opportunity to simply be together, bask in the stillness, and enjoy each other's presence.

In the fall, flour flies over your heads as your soft laughter echoes around the kitchen, and the episode of Gilmore Girls is left forgotten in the background. You continue to mix the pumpkin-flavored batter as Matt takes a moment to appreciate these little moments with you, where your hair falls perfectly over your face and your smile doesn't leave your face even when you are done playing.

The winter embraces you with its coldness as you sit next to Matt in front of the fireplace, hands clasped together and brought up to his mouth, where hot air blows into them, bringing warmth to your senses. The soft tune of Lana del Rey's Paris, Texas fills the living room, creating a cozy ambiance as you both quietly scroll through your phones, legs tangled together, while Chris, takes sneaky pictures of your cute moment. The mugs on the table sit still, smoking with their scent, as you immerse yourself in the feeling of Matt's body on yours, enjoying each other's company on a mid-December evening.

The spring sun is shining bright, and you can't help but feel happy as you watch Matt walking towards you wearing a beautiful handmade flower crown on his head. The wind is blowing the petals around. The fresh breeze carries the sweet fragrance of flowers in the air, and you feel grateful for these little moments that make life so beautiful.

"What are you staring at, huh?" You tease him, and a playful smile lingers on your lips. He snickers, and a hand reaches out to cover his mouth. "You have some..." He bursts out laughing, and the flower petals fly off, landing on your hair, making it a mess. You laugh too, and your hair gets thrown back by the wind, making you feel alive and carefree.

With the changing seasons, you and your boyfriend found solace and comfort in the simple and quiet moments you shared. As the leaves turned golden brown and the air grew crisp, you both took the time to appreciate the unique beauty and serenity that each season had to offer. Through these moments, you also discovered the depth of love and affection that your boyfriend was willing to give, as he showed you the true meaning of being present and cherishing each and every moment. Whether it was a cozy night in by the fire during the winter, a walk in the park surrounded by blooming flowers in the spring, a lazy day at the beach in the summer, or a hike in the vibrant foliage of the fall, you both found joy and happiness in each other's company, and the changing seasons only brought you closer together.

559 words!

cute and short, I hope you liked this:)

#paxi's fics #dont like dont interact #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo imagine #sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo

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innytoes · 2 months ago

Note

"My wife can stab me a little bit I don't care."

okay i need this but i don't know who from...... 😩

oh maybe some jubobby?!

Alfred The Cat verse. Set after the Haunted House Fic.

"You know, it's weird that someone who sees ghosts hates Halloween this much," Leo said, poking his head out of a kitchen cabinet next to the one she was rummaging through. She'd been cursing to herself about Reggie's over-abundance of autumnal mugs, trying to find one that wasn't shaped like a pumpkin or a ghost or what have you.

"Gah!" she exclaimed, nearly dropping Pumpkin Mug Number Four. At least the ghost had the decency to look kind of sheepish. "I get enough jump scares in my life, thank you."

Ever since Sunset Curve made it big and bought the creepy haunted murder-house they'd been renting, things had changed a little. Julie had moved in, officially.

Sunset Curve won a Grammy, on a song that Luke and Julie wrote together. Bobby proposed. They had the wedding in the garden, giving Tía an explanation about wanting to put down roots and make memories in their forever home, because 'our ghost friend is tied to the place he died and else he can't come' wouldn't fly.

They'd done some renovating, making sure to leave Leo's unmarked grave undisturbed. He'd been very adamant he was fine with them just pouring a slab of concrete over his remains to install a catio for Alfred. There was nobody to visit his grave anyway. That was why he'd been such easy pickings for the serial killer who used to live here.

Gertrude, the ghost of the woman who owned the house in the fifties, had passed on to the Other Side after passing on her famous scones recipe to her favourite 'adopted grandson', Reggie.

Which led to today.

With the renovations done, apparently her boys had decided this was the year they were going to win Best Halloween House In The Neighbourhood. Which wasn't even a real thing. There was no contest. There was no prize. But Reggie had insisted it was a real thing, and it was measured in how spooky your decorations were, how awesome your candy, and how happy you made the kids.

Obviously Julie didn't have the heart to argue with 'don't you want to make the kids happy, Julie?' Not to mention the puppy eyes of four musicians and a ghost.

So she said yes to the giant skeleton, and yes to the millions of decorative gourds, and yes to the fog machine and the 'spooky lights' and the creepy animatronic witch. She agreed to getting The Best Full Sized Candy Bars Ever for handing out, and hiding them from Luke. She even indulged the boys in their horror movie marathons, and Bobby stoically did not wince when she grabbed his arm so hard he had bruises the next day.

It was just that the last horror movie stuck with her. Especially today, what with it being a very stereotypical Dark and Stormy Night. Especially, especially because the guys had left the following morning for a series of concerts in New York, leaving her alone in a big, empty house with just an elderly cat and a ghost.

"We'll be back before Halloween," Bobby had promised. They video called every day, usually after the show, and he wisely never said anything about the amount of lights she had on.

"Come on, Halloween is fun! It's about dressing up in silly costumes and running around with your friends and getting free candy from strangers," Leo pointed out. "Which is honestly a terrible thing to teach children, now that I say it out loud."

"You just like it because you get to scare people who want to 'get a look at the murder house'," Julie said. And okay, it was pretty funny to see Leo scare the daylights out of troublesome tweens daring each other to touch the door.

"That too." Leo beamed. For a while, that had been the only contact he had with the living, until some 'entrepreneur' had bought the nearly derelict building, slapped some landlord beige on everything, and rented it out to some broke musicians.

"I like the cute parts of Halloween," Julie defended herself. "The candy and the pumpkin spice everything and little kids dressed up in costumes. I could just do without the horror stuff."

All of a sudden, all the lights in the house turned off.

"That isn't funny," she snapped at Leo.

"It wasn't me!" Leo said, raising his hands up in self defence. "It must be the storm."

Great. Just great. "Can you use your ghost powers to turn the lights back on?" she asked, hopeful.

"No?" Leo asked, confused. "Why would you think I could do that?"

"You can turn the TV on and off."

"I turn the TV on and off with the remote," Leo said, amused. "I think you need to... flip the breaker switch. Or something."

"Where even is the breaker switch?" Julie asked, and Leo unhelpfully shrugged. "Okay, I'm going to find some candles or something, so I don't stub my toe or anything trying to find it."

"Skill issue," Leo muttered, phasing through the table. "I'll check the laundry room."

The only candles she was able to find were Bobby's tea lights. They would have to do. She plopped one in a wine glass, holding it up by the stem as a make-shift torch. Leo came back to report the laundry room was a bust.

"Maybe it's in the hallway closet," Julie said, but Leo didn't seem to be listening anymore.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered, even though he was a ghost and nobody else could hear him.

"What?" Julie whispered back.

"I thought I heard someone."

"If this is a joke..." Julie started, but Leo shook his head, curls bouncing. He looked genuinely scared. She put her wineglass-light on the countertop.

"It's not! I heard something."

"Well, go look!" Julie hissed at him. He was a ghost, it's not like anyone could see him, or hear him. If someone had broken into their home...

"You go look!"

"You're a-"

"Hey, why's it so dark in here?" a voice asked, and Julie shrieked, grabbing the nearest utensil and thrusting it at the burglar.

Okay, so maybe when Luke, Reggie, and Alex called Bobby to see how surprising Julie turned out, and he picked up from the ER with a fork stuck in shoulder, they laughed harder than they should. Julie felt really, really bad. He'd been so worried about her, knowing she was creeped out being home alone.

Bobby, being Bobby, had just shrugged his non-forked shoulder. "My wife can stab me a little bit," he'd said. "I don't care."

And that was one of the many reasons why she'd married him.

#julie and the phantoms #bobbyxjulie #fanfic #alfred the cat #this probably makes very little sense if you didn't read the haunted house fic #basically Leo is a ghost who got serial murdered in their house a few decades ago in the 90s and now haunts it #Is Bobby on the Good Drugs or is he just that chill #we just don't know #he's just glad Julie used a fork and not one of the steak knives #I wrote a thing

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roseofdarknessblog · 1 year ago

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Thinking about enjoying the first days of fall with Levi. We live in a place where it's not so hot anymore, but also not cold yet. So it's really the perfect mixture of the seasons - summer and fall.

Thinking about Levi coming back from work and seeing the house decorated already. While he was away, I put out some of my favorite decorations. A few pumpkins here and there, cute little ghosts or witches, sunflowers or fall scented candles. The couch in the living room and our bed are decorated with fall-themed throw pillows and warm blankets.

"You know I'm not the biggest fan of seasonal decorations, but I have to admit that our home looks really cozy now."

"I knew you would love it," I say and hand Levi his tea, that I make for him every day when he comes home from work. Today, he gets to drink it from a new cute pumpkin shaped mug I picked up during one of my shopping trips. "Don't look at me like that, it was too cute not to buy."

Levi rolls his eyes, but I can see a tiny smirk on his lips. "It's nice, yeah. Thank you."

I kiss his cheek with a warm smile and make myself comfortable next to him on the couch, while we both admire the fall decorations in silence. I rest my head on his shoulder and look at the orange and yellow leaf garland with some fairy lights I put on top of our bookshelf. Some of the shelves have their own fall or Halloween themed decorations as well, just to add something a little special to them.

And while Levi thinks we have enough of it already, I'm already planning to get some more stuff.

Just thinking about Levi...

#rose talks about levi #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you

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lifeontoast · 1 year ago

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Have I Found You?

Edward Nashton x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used)

SUMMARY: Edward thinks he has found his soulmate at long last. 

A/N: a little something for my Eddie/Riddler fans - enjoy! I’m pretty proud of this one. Feel free to drop me any other Paul Dano requests if you have them.

Trigger warnings: traumatic past mildly implied, mugging

…

EDWARD’S POV

It’s her. I know it. She’s my angel sent down from Heaven. She’s made for me. Me, who has been so loveless my entire, miserable existence.

When I saw her in the diner yesterday, I am not at all ashamed to say I was absolutely transfixed by her totally mesmerising beauty. She was the purest, prettiest creature to bless these disgusting Gotham streets. What on earth is she doing here? Still, I can protect her from that. Well, Edward might not be able to, but Riddler certainly can. Just as soon as I get her to notice me. I know that she’ll love me when she gets to know me! There’s a word, a word I can’t quite grasp…

I’m going back to the diner tonight; she might be there again.

NORMAL POV

It’s him. You know it. He’s your angel sent down from Heaven. He’s made for you. You, who have been so loveless your entire, miserable existence.

When you saw that cute guy at the diner yesterday, it took everything you had not to go over and introduce yourself right away. He was far too good looking for someone like you, or so you thought. His transparent glasses rested on his nose in such an adorable manner, and even from a distance you could see his forest green eyes sparkling magically. Soft brown hair flopped over his forehead as he bent over his pumpkin pie, and what looked to be a puzzle book. Gorgeous and smart. He was perfect. All too aware that you were gazing shamefully, staring even, you looked away, a slight blush on your cheeks.

You’re going back to the diner tonight; he might be there again.

TIMESKIP TO LATER THAT DAY…

It was time. You were going to head to the diner, in the hopes that the gorgeous man would be there again. He had to be. The servers always seemed to know him by name (he was a regular!), though you didn’t know what name. You’d have to ask him that later. Walking down the streets (carefully, always carefully, as who knew what was lurking in those dark alleyways), you noticed a scuffle up ahead of you. Approaching cautiously, you tried to assess the situation. It was a mugging! Some poor guy was having his wallet stolen right in front of you.

Sprinting up to the guy, you prised the mugger’s huge hands off the man and took the wallet back, finally punching him square in the face. He fell to the ground groaning. It was only as you looked at the man who had been victim to the attack that you realised who it was. It was the man from the diner, shaking like a leaf and looking astonished. Even when scared he didn’t look any less gorgeous. His green eyes were wide behind his wonky glasses, and even wider when he noticed it was you who stood in front of him. He bent his head to look at the grimy pavement instantly, cheeks turning red as a tomato.

‘Thank you!’ the man said, daring to steal a glance at you at last. ‘You saved me!’

‘It’s no problem, really.’ You smiled back. ‘Hey, didn’t I see you at the diner yesterday? Let’s go there now, to recover a little.’

The man nodded shakily. ‘Actually, I was heading there when that scumbag attacked me. By the way, I never caught your name... I, um, I’m Edward.’

‘Y/N.’ you said simply, starting to walk towards the diner. Edward followed behind you, smiling to himself. Pretty name for a pretty guy, you thought.

EDWARD’S POV

I was just on my way to the diner to see if that ethereal angel would be there when some idiot decided to mug me for my wallet. It was just a shame that Riddler wasn’t there; he could have killed the man in seconds. Instead, weak, puny, Edward had to cope with him all on his own. I was so tired, I was about to just give him my wallet when someone came running over, and started fighting the guy for me! Finally, punching the man to the ground, I turned to look at my saviour, when I saw the woman from the diner yesterday. So she was an angel! She had been sent there to save me, I just knew it. My eyes widened in disbelief, and I blushed terribly, looking at my feet. She saved me! I thanked her, and she offered to take me to the diner to recover. I asked her name, and she replied with the most heavenly name I’d ever heard: Y/N. It suited her perfectly.

I felt myself fall for her straight away, my heart pounding crazily every time I looked at her beautiful face. When I saw her for the first time yesterday, I just knew she was the one for me! She could never like someone like me, though. I was ugly, and she was stunning. I was weak, she was strong. I was a devil, a worthless sinner, she was an angel. My angel. There was that word again, still just out of my reach…

We started on our way to the diner.

NORMAL POV

You sat down on one of the stools in front of the counter, and Edward sat beside you.

‘Edward, hello! Pumpkin pie?’ the friendly server asked him with a grin, and he nodded.

‘One for Y/N too, please. And two coffees.’ He replied quietly. Looking at you for approval of this order, you smiled gracefully. She nodded, and turned to get your food and drink. You and Edward whiled away the hours chatting about your lives, in between bites of pie and sips of coffee. You felt sure that you were in love with Edward, but were worried that he didn’t feel the same way. Your heart sped up, and your palms were clammy with nerves. All your life, you had never met anyone quite like Edward. He was quiet, yet charming and chivalrous. Beginning to let your mind wander, you pictured your and his life together. Edward would definitely make a brilliant husband, father, grandfather. His shy kindness endeared you to him infinitely, and you saw that he would never let you lift a finger while you were with him. No, that’s ridiculous! You told yourself to get over this pathetic little crush, not knowing that he felt the same way entirely. He definitely had a nice girl waiting for him at home, right? In fact, you probably shouldn’t be keeping him from her.

You decided not to pursue your feelings any further, not wanting to ruin your newfound friendship. Well, there are certain things you cannot share with another person without becoming friends with them, and saving someone from a mugging is one of them.

‘So, Edward, anyone waiting for you back at home?’ you asked, as casually as possible, secretly desperate that there wasn’t anybody. You just had to know.

‘Me? No, of course not!’ he laughed a little too loudly, seemingly wanting to prove eagerly that he was single. Strange. Now that he mentioned it, he did give you the slight impression that he had never been with anyone at all. Something about the twinkle of innocence and inexperience in those emerald eyes.

‘What about you?’ he asked, an audibly sad note in his voice.

You’d been free as air for a while now. You told him so. He looked strangely relieved. He smiled that beautiful, shy smile again.

‘So, Edward, what do you do for a job?’ you asked curiously. You couldn’t work out just by his appearance what he did, although you were sure it would be something nerdy.

‘I, um, I’m a forensic accountant, yourself?’ he replied.

You knew it. Edward was a little nerd! This endeared you to the man even further. You told him what you did, and he nodded, looking a little tense, zoned-out even. You were slightly worried, and were about to ask him if he was okay, when he suddenly exploded.

‘But I hate it there! They all call me Ed-weird, and make fun of me for liking puzzles and “being weird”. It’s not fair! I always have loved my riddles, but they just don’t understand them like I do. They’re so exciting, it gives me such a thrill when I solve one, makes me feel so powerful. Powerful enough to shut them up, to tell them that I’m not who they think I am. I’m not weird! Even in school they’d make fun of me, and at the orphanage too. It was so horrible there! We were always hungry; there was never enough for everyone, and in the winter, it was so cold… if only the Gotham Renewal fund had been used as it should have been, instead of a private money tree for those rich scumbags we call politicians and leaders!’ he seemed like he’d wanted to say all that to someone for a very long time. Breathing heavily, he glanced up at you carefully over his glasses, wincing slightly in embarrassment at his outburst, trying to gauge your reaction. Risking everything, you reached out and placed your hand over his shaky one, to comfort him. You threw him a sympathetic glance, and he blushed and smiled ever-so-slightly in return.

EDWARD’S POV

I was having such a great time at the diner with Y/N. I was falling deeper and deeper with every passing second, and felt ashamed at myself. How could she ever like me back? She asked me what I do, and I told her. But there was something I wanted to say to her, something to tell her. Something I’d wanted to tell anyone, anyone at all who would listen, to be honest. Anybody else would look at me like a rat and get up and leave in disgust. But she was different. She wasn’t like all my co-workers (if you could call them that; they hardly did any work) or strangers on the street. I had a feeling that Y/N would understand me, after all, she was my angel. Of course she’d understand.

It all came out in a rush. I hadn’t meant it to be like that! She looked a little stunned when I’d finished, but, surprisingly, she placed her warm, soft hand over mine. She smiled, and I melted. My heart blew up in a supernova. She was just perfect. She looked into my eyes like she loved me, loved me! I finally knew the word I had been grasping at for hours now.

Soulmate.

…

A/N: as usual, thanks so much for reading! You guys rock! Once again, feel free to drop me any other Paul requests if you have them.

#lifeontoast #paul franklin dano #paul dano x reader #paul dano #the riddler #dano!riddler #danonation #danonator #danocel #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #riddler x reader #dano!riddler x reader

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vintagelacerosette · 1 year ago

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Tag game Tuesday/picrew catch up!

Oh how I've missed doing these! Thank you so much to these sweetpeas who tagged me to do these tag games/picrew. Lyle @milkovetti Michelle @michellemisfit Bri @y0itsbri Evie @energievie Julia @juliakayyy Georgia @iansw0rld Kat @mybrainismelted Nosho @creepkinginc Cross @crossmydna Willow @ian-galagher Lyds @ardent-fox Vey @look-i-love-u Molly @deathclassic Jay @surviving-maybe 💕

💟Name: Myn/Shermyn

#️⃣Age: 27

🗺️Location: Sydney

🧥Do you own a robe? Describe it. Yeah a pink silky with lace trim one my older sister gifted me as my maid of honour gift 🥰

☕️Do you have a favorite mug? Describe it. Why yes! It's one of my prized possessions! My Gallacrafts mug I made art with the darling & talented Ling @lingy910y

🧣Do you have a favorite blanket? Describe it. You know I don't think I do & that's tragic 😔

🍵Coffee or Tea? Tea

↳🔥🧊Hot or Cold? Cold it's been so damn humid & dry in Sydney rn 😓

🧦Fuzzy socks or Wool socks? Wool

🧤Gloves or Mittens? Gloves but the fingerless kind so I can scroll/read fics on my phone lol

🔥Fireplace or Campfire? Fireplace

🌞🌜Sun or Moon? Both baby! They work in tandem to give us life ☀️🌙

🍬Chocolate candy or Sugar candy? Sugar 🍭

🥐Sweet Pastry or Savory Pastry? Sweet

🎃Peppermint or Pumpkin Spice? Peppermint. I haven't had pumpkin spice before

🛏️Go to bed early or Wake up early? Wake up early but i don't sleep early to make the happen 🥲

🥣Cold cereal in milk or Hot oatmeal? Cold cereal in milk I especially love the sweet ones. American cereal certainly hit the spot with their cinnamon toast crunch or lucky charms 🤤

🍞Potatoes or Bread? 🥔

And Finally…

🚬 Gallagher or Milkovich? It'll have to be MIlkovich even tho objectively the are more terrible ones than good. But to be fair the great stole my fucking heart 💖

Picrew

Which character from any media would you like to have as a father?

I think Johnny Rose from Schitt's Creek would be a funny dad plus loaded 🤣

If money, laws, time, and effort were no object, what animal would you want to have?

I'd love an otter omfg they're so damn cute 😭

What is your Chinese takeout order?

Sweet & sour pork & spinch noodle with wild mushrooms.

What's your favorite emoji?

🥹 I'm particularly fond of this one bc it's the marvelling of beauty for me

Would you rather have a library, greenhouse, or home theater in your house?

I think greenhouse. I think would be so soothing & I feel like I need more plants in my life hahaha

What childhood tv show do you think of the most fondly?

Cardcaptor Sakura 🌸

What was your tumblr like when you first joined?

I joined 2012 it was so aesthetic & I wished be one of those vintage aesthetic blogs hence my tumblr name lmao. I kinda got confused & scared how to use it so i stopped for 2 years. So i missed out all the fun drama i guess lol. Then I started using it as like a scrapbook of things I liked hahah

What clothing style do you love but don't feel compelled to replicate yourself?

50s but I feel that would be such an effort to pull off

If you were plopped into a fictional world, which one would you know the layout of the best?

Pokemon but like in the switch games. I've been playing too much instead of sleeping lmao

What is your favourite piece of art?

Idk if I have a favourite but one that impacted me in high school was a piece called 'Atomic: full of love, full of wonder' by Nike Savvas. Funny thing is that I got to see it in person may 2 or 3 years after seeing it in a high school text book & having to do essays on it. It was by complete accident & I had no idea see was displaying her work in our national art gallery. It was magic to see a piece irl after studying it 🥰

Do you have a water bottle? what does it look like?

My bestie jusr got me this steel pink hello kitty tumblr that was a collab with a bubble tea shop! I love it I take it to work 💖

What fanfic trope is a quiet fave?

I think time travel with younger selves meeting their older selve & seeing how they fot their happy ending 🥰

Do you carry a daily bag? what does it look like? what's the weirdest thing in it?

Yeah a carry bag for work. It's this tote bag another bestie got me for my last birthday. It's really cute. It's pink & mint green with a cluster of cute things like teddy bear.

If you had to ship Mickey with another Gallagher, who would it be?

Respectfully no ❤️

What is a fanfic trope you didn't expect to like and then very much did?

I'd say mafia au especially bc of the amazing fic by Kay/Shamelessquestions, The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Ian Gallagher.

Do you think s11 Mickey can still carry s11 Ian?

He sure could! He's our swol lil man

Look at them guns!!

Who got custody of the killing bat when they sold the house?

I kind have this tie between Fiona getting it or it being passed to Liam & Franny to keep the legacy going

Not tagging any bc I'm late but if you see this & you want to go ahead starlight 🩷

#tag game #picrew

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