#they’re cupcakes and they’re delicious

[cozyrosykay]

I turned 31 yesterday, and I have the best husband in the entire world 😭❤️😆

[izzyeffinhands]

Finished the baking class with Samba Schutte! My mixer broke into the first buttercream but behold! Here’s the first half of my GentleBeard cupcakes. I’ll be working on the vanilla blueberry buttercream for the Stede cupcake in a bit!

[leehallfae]

if you don’t have powdered sugar and you think you can try a frosting recipe that uses granulated sugar, Don’t. that is the devil talking.

[bigbangbaby-itsacrashcrashcrash]

My random high thought of the night:

I’m really embracing and most importantly enjoying my first year in my thirties. Why are people dreading this? It’s great!

- M

[mimeslime]

“Ontologically evil” is the most stupid and redundant phrase that’s somehow entered serious conversation

[pucksandpower]

Made with Love

Charles Leclerc x amateur baker!Reader

Summary: in which Charles would rather risk the entire paddock getting food poisoning (again) than break your heart by telling you that your baking is horrible

You hum to yourself as you pull a tray of freshly baked cupcakes out of the oven. The sweet, chocolaty aroma fills Charles’ kitchen, making your mouth water.

This batch is sure to be perfect! You’ve been practicing your baking skills for months now, determined to get it just right.

Charles wanders into the kitchen, drawn by the scent. “Mmm, something smells good in here!”

He peers over your shoulder at the tray of cupcakes. They’re a bit misshapen, with cracked tops that deflated the second they were taken out of the oven. The frosting is glopped on unevenly.

To you, they look absolutely mouthwatering. To Charles, they look … well, he loves you too much to say.

“Try one!” You urge, holding out a cupcake. Charles flashes you a hesitant smile before taking it. He peels back the liner and takes a bite. His eyes widen and he forces himself to chew and swallow.

“Well? How is it?” You ask eagerly.

Charles clears his throat. “It’s, uh, it’s great. Your best batch yet,” he lies. In truth, it’s dry and dense, with a strange bitter aftertaste. But the delight on your face makes the fib worth it.

You throw your arms around him in a hug. “Yay! I can’t wait to share them with the team this weekend.”

Charles’ stomach drops. The thought of the entire paddock pretending to enjoy your baking makes him cringe internally. But he plasters on a smile. “What a nice idea! I’m sure they’ll love them.”

The two of you arrive at the circuit and you can barely contain your excitement as you carry a large container of cupcakes into the paddock. Charles trails behind you, backpack slung over one shoulder, his other arm wrapped around your waist. He presses a quick kiss to your temple before you flit off to distribute your baked goods.

You first approach Max Verstappen, holding out a cupcake with rainbow sprinkles. “Here Max, have one!”

Max eyes the treat dubiously but accepts it with a polite smile. “Thanks Y/N, that’s really nice of you.”

You beam and turn to Charles, missing the look of apprehension on Max’s face. Charles catches Max’s eye and draws a finger across his throat in warning. Max’s eyes widen but he nods in understanding. Charles won’t let anything ruin your mood today.

You make your way through the paddock, handing cupcakes to mechanics, engineers, PR reps, reporters, team principals, and drivers. Charles hovers behind you, keeping a watchful eye on each recipient.

Daniel Ricciardo visibly gags on his first bite when you turn away. Charles glares and shakes his head sharply. Daniel rearranges his face into a smile and gives a thumbs up.

Lando Norris takes an overly large bite and Charles has to pound on his back as he chokes it down.

Esteban Ocon discreetly spits his cupcake into a napkin when you’re not looking. Charles lunges forward and grabs his arm, squeezing tightly until Esteban wheezes out “Delicious!”

You remain blissfully unaware of the chaos that falls over the paddock in your wake, oblivious to Charles’ desperate interventions. All you see are your friends and acquaintances enjoying your baking.

When you finally offer a cupcake to Charles, he takes it and eats the whole thing without hesitation. Because even if it tastes like sugary sawdust, the delight on your face makes it the best treat in the world.

“Wasn’t that fun?” You gush to Charles afterwards. “I can’t wait to try out a new recipe soon!”

Charles just kisses your frosting-smudged nose and says, “I can’t wait either, mon amour.” As long as you’re happy, he’ll choke down all the questionable cupcakes you offer. Because your smile is the only thing that matters.

***

The paddock is bustling with activity as you and Charles arrive for the next race weekend, yet another batch of fresh baked goods in hand. You’re eager to share your latest creations — classic chocolate chunk cookies. You spent hours carefully following the recipe, determined to get them just right.

As you make your rounds distributing cookies, the reactions are the usual mix of forced smiles and discreet spitting. Charles trails behind you, glaring at anyone who doesn’t immediately rave about how delicious they are. The drivers and mechanics quickly catch on, showering you with praise and shooting Charles grateful looks when he turns you away.

You finally offer a cookie to Graham, a mechanic from the Mercedes team. He takes it hesitantly, eyeing Charles standing behind you. But Graham is new to the paddock and unaware of the baked goods situation.

He takes a bite and immediately grimaces. “Ugh, these taste terrible!” He blurts out.

You gasp, stumbling back as if struck. Tears well up in your eyes. Charles is at your side in an instant, pulling you into a comforting hug. Over your shoulder, he shoots Graham a look of absolute rage.

Graham realizes his mistake too late, shame washing over his face. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean ...” he stammers. But you’re already pulling away from Charles and rushing off, sobbing.

Charles turns on Graham, eyes blazing. “How could you? All she ever wants to do is make others happy!” Graham cowers before him, other mechanics backing away nervously.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Graham says miserably.

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Charles snarls. “You stay away from her, you hear me?” Graham nods shakily. Satisfied the message is received, Charles races after you.

He finds you behind the garage, face buried in your hands. “Oh mon ange,” Charles murmurs, wrapping you in his arms. “Don’t listen to him, your cookies are perfect.”

You cling to Charles, sniffling. “I just wanted to do something nice for everyone. But I’m so horrible at baking!”

Charles tilts your chin up. “You listen to me. You have the biggest, kindest heart. It doesn’t matter if the cookies are a little, er, overdone. What matters is you put love into making them. Don’t let someone like Graham get you down.”

You smile tremulously. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best boyfriend ever?”

Charles grins. “Hmm, I don’t mind hearing it again.” Laughing through your tears, you tell him again, punctuating it with a kiss.

After ensuring you’re okay, Charles seeks out Graham. “I trust you’ll be more considerate going forward?” Graham nods meekly. “Good. But just so we’re clear, if you upset her again, you’ll be out of this paddock for good.”

The next day, the news breaks that Graham has been dismissed from the Mercedes team for “attitude issues.” You feel a bit guilty, hoping your cookies didn’t cause him to lose his job. But Charles seems strangely satisfied, so you don’t dwell on it.

From then on, Charles redoubles his efforts to protect your feelings whenever you provide baked goods. The paddock falls in line, fawning over your overly salty pretzels and dry banana bread.

The brightness of your smile makes it all worth it to Charles. Because keeping that joy and kindness shining in you is what matters most to him.

***

You step out of Charles’ Ferrari, the engine purring as he puts it in park. Taking his hand, you smile excitedly — today is another fan meetup organized by the team, and you can’t wait to connect with Charles’ supporters again.

“Are you ready, mon cœur?” Charles asks, squeezing your hand gently. His green eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks at you adoringly.

“Absolutely!” You chirp, patting the large picnic basket hanging off your arm. “I made lots of treats to share today!”

Charles grins and leans in to kiss your forehead. “I’m sure they will love everything you made, as always.”

You beam, bolstered by his encouragement as you both make your way to the event. The meetup is being held in a local park, with tents and tables set up amongst the lush green grass and towering trees. You spot a long line of fans waiting eagerly for Charles’ arrival. Most are dressed in the familiar rosso corsa of Ferrari, holding posters and memorabilia for him to sign.

“Charles! Charles!” They chant excitedly when they see him. You hang back happily, letting him have his moment with his dedicated supporters. Charles takes selfies, signs autographs, and chats animatedly in Italian, French, and English. The fans are thrilled to interact with their racing idol.

After some time, Charles waves you over. “I would like you all to meet someone very special to me,” he announces, wrapping an arm around you. The fans erupt into cheers and applause. “This is Y/N, my love.”

You blush at the attention but manage to give a little wave. “Hi everyone! I’m so happy to be here today.”

Charles addresses the crowd again. “As some of you know, Y/N loves to bake and has brought some special treats to share with you all today.”

This is met with more enthusiastic cheers. Though none of them particularly enjoy your baked goods, the fans appreciate the effort and know Charles likes to reward them for humoring you.

You open up your large picnic basket, beaming with pride. “I made my favorite oatmeal raisin cookies, some lemon squares, and my famous rocky road fudge!”

The fans try not to visibly cringe, lining up politely with plates held out. You happily distribute your overly dry, burnt cookies and gooey, cloying fudge. The lemon squares are mushy and saccharine. But the fans accept it all with smiles and encouragement.

“Mmm, delicious!” One teenage girl forces out through a mouthful of your fudge.

An older man gives you a thumbs up as he chokes down a cookie, eyes watering. “So good!”

You beam, pleased that they enjoy your baking so much. As you chat with each person, you don’t notice Charles discreetly handing out autographed photos, caps, and other prized memorabilia to reward the fans for their efforts.

After you’ve handed out all your baked goods, Charles suggests a stroll through the park gardens. As you walk hand-in-hand admiring the flowers, he says softly, “You have such a big heart, Y/N. The way you care so much about connecting with the fans means the world to me.”

You squeeze his hand gratefully. “It’s the least I can do — they support you in everything, so I want to support them too.”

Charles stops and turns to you, his expression tender. “You are amazing, truly. I’m the luckiest man in the world.” He leans in and kisses you sweetly. Your heart flutters just like the first time your lips met.

When you return from your walk, the event is winding down. You say goodbye to the fans, who thank you profusely for the treats and making their day so special. You tell them you can’t wait to bake for them again soon!

After the last fan leaves, it’s just you and Charles. The late afternoon sun casts golden light on the empty picnic tables.

“Did you have fun, mon amour?” Charles asks, caressing your cheek.

“The best time!” You say enthusiastically. “I just love baking for your wonderful fans and seeing how it makes them smile.”

Charles’ eyes are full of love. He kisses the top of your head. “As long as it makes you happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

You snuggle into his chest happily. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“I don’t think so,” Charles teases. “Why don’t you remind me again?”

You grin up at him. “I’ll tell you over dinner … I have a new donut recipe I want to try out.”

Charles fights down a grimace as he reminds himself that your love is more than worth suffering through another dreadful dessert. “I can’t wait!”

***

“Mate, you have to stop her before she poisons someone,” Max whispers urgently to Charles as you step out of the room.

Charles furrows his brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Your girlfriend. Her baking. It’s … it’s just terrible. I’m sorry, but it has to be said.”

Charles lets out a dismissive chuckle. “Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Max raises his eyebrows incredulously. “I chipped a tooth on her brownie last week!”

Charles rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he avoids making eye contact.

“Look, I get that you don’t want to upset her,” Max continues, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “But we can’t keep lying and pretending it’s good! One of these days, someone is going to end up in the hospital.”

Charles sighs deeply, running a hand through his tousled hair. “What do you want me to do? If I tell her the truth, she’ll be devastated.”

You return to the room then, a bright smile on your face as you carry a plate of freshly baked apple tarts. “Who wants one?”

Max cringes almost imperceptibly while Charles shoots him a warning look. “They look great, ma belle!” He says with forced enthusiasm, taking one and bringing it to his lips.

The apple filling is gelatinous and tastes faintly of soap. Charles forces himself to swallow it with a strained smile. Max quickly declines when you offer him one.

Later that evening, Charles finds Max alone outside his apartment building. “I need your help,” he admits defeatedly.

Max looks at him expectantly.

“With Y/N’s baking … how do I get her to stop without completely crushing her?”

His friend contemplates this for a moment. “Well … you could try convincing her to take up a new hobby instead?”

Charles shakes his head. “I’ve suggested that before, but she’s dead set on baking. It’s her biggest passion.”

“Okay, then you’ll have to take a different approach.” Max strokes his chin thoughtfully. “What if … you told her a bunch of us were going vegan or something, so she couldn’t bake for us anymore?”

Charles raises an eyebrow at the suggestion, but then slowly nods. “You know, that could actually work …”

The next day, you eagerly bring a fresh batch of blueberry muffins to the paddock to share with everyone. Charles takes a deep breath before pulling you aside gently.

“Hey, can I talk to you about something?” He starts, trying to keep his expression neutral.

You blink up at him curiously. “Of course. What’s up?”

“Well …” He clears his throat. “I was talking to the guys and … Lewis has actually convinced a bunch of them to go vegan. Lando, Max …”

He lists off a dozen more names, watching as realization dawns on your face. Your shoulders slump slightly.

“Oh … I see.” You glance down at the muffins in your hands. “I guess that means I can’t really bake for them anymore.”

Charles feels a pang of guilt at the disappointment in your eyes. But then, your expression brightens again.

“I’ll just have to start baking vegan treats instead!” You declare happily. “This is so exciting, I’ve been wanting to experiment with more plant-based ingredients!”

Charles’s shoulders tense as the plan epically backfires. Of course you’d take this as an opportunity to bake even more.

Over the next few weeks, you gleefully embrace the vegan baking lifestyle. Charles has to smother his laughter when Max nearly chokes biting into one of your “chewy” vegan brownies. Lando spits out a mouthful of your gritty vegan chocolate cake when you’re not looking.

You, however, remain blissfully unaware of how dreadful your creations are. No matter how many hints Charles tries to drop, the problem only seems to be getting worse.

One evening, you set a plate of fresh-from-the-oven vegan peanut butter cookies on the coffee table, plopping down on the couch next to Charles with a proud grin.

“Try one!” You insist, picking a cookie up and holding it in front of his lips.

Charles hesitates for just a second too long. Your face falls and he scrambles to take a bite, barely suppressing a wince as he chews on what feels like a solid lump of chalk mixed with peanut shavings. He forces himself to swallow it down with an enthusiastic grin.

“Wow, these are incredible!” He lies through his teeth. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

You perk up immediately, the dejected look vanishing. “You really think so? I tried a new recipe I found online.”

“Definitely a winner,” Charles affirms, trying his best to sound convincing. “We should bring some to the paddock for everyone to try.”

Your eyes light up at the suggestion and guilt twists in Charles’s gut. The last thing he wants is for the other drivers to have to suffer through these … confections. But he could never be the one to shatter your baking dreams.

The next day at the track, you eagerly pass around the plate of peanut butter hockey pucks to the drivers and crew. Charles discreetly pulls Max aside with a pained look.

“Please, I’m begging you …” he murmurs under his breath. “Just smile and nod, no matter how bad they are.”

Max grimaces as he takes an experimental bite of one of the cookies, his expression doing little to mask his revulsion. But he meets Charles’s pleading gaze and forces out a strangled, “Mmm … great!”

One by one, the others follow suit — fake smiles and strained praises as they choke down your baked atrocities. You remain obliviously pleased, unaware of their suffering.

Over the next few weeks, the vegan baking experiments only seem to get worse and worse. The paddock has become a silent circle of culinary martyrs — all sworn to an unspoken code to preserve your feelings at all costs.

You proudly present a tray of charcoal-colored muffins that leave the entire garage coughing from the plume of burnt flour. “Tried a new recipe for dark chocolate avocado muffins!” You explain brightly.

“Can’t wait to dig in,” Lando is close to crying, his eyes already watering.

Charles has to bite back a laugh as Max takes a heroic bite, barely managing to keep it together. He pats the Dutchman on the back firmly as the poor guy fights back a gag reflex.

“Two more words about her baking and you’ll be racing with three wheels next season,” he warns Carlos in a low mutter after witnessing the Spaniard nearly vomit up a slice of your “moist” vegan zucchini bread.

The sheer willpower it takes for the entire crew to maintain the facade is almost impressive. Technique and strategy meetings have now become immense displays of unspoken fortitude — everyone driven by the simple goal of not letting you catch on that your baked goods are, in fact, completely inedible.

Charles has started bringing backup protein bars and shakes to every race just to make sure nobody accidentally lapses into baked good-induced delirium.

He really has no idea how much longer this can possibly be sustained. But he also has no idea how to safely extract the situation without demolishing your passion and self-confidence in the process.

For now, his main objective is to ensure your bright smile and cheerfulness remain unchanged — no matter how many mouths he has to personally silence to make that happen.

At the end of the day, having you by his side, radiating that infectious joy and following your heart’s desire, is worth enduring all the subpar vegan muffins in the world.

He’ll take a bite of your latest abomination with an adoring grin, because that’s what partners who truly love each other do — they support each other through the good, the bad, and the burnt-to-a-crisp.

***

It’s the start of a new season, and Charles has been racking his brain for a solution to the ongoing baking saga. As much as he loves indulging your passion, the charade is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. The entire paddock is at their wits’ end trying to choke down your vegan torture devices week after week.

That’s when he has an idea — one he hopes will be a win-win for everyone involved.

“Surprise!” He says with an excited grin, presenting you with the envelopes. “I got us signed up for this baking course. I thought it could be fun for us to take some classes together!”

You’re beaming as you throw your arms around his neck. “That’s such a thoughtful idea! I would love nothing more.”

Of course, Charles being Charles is hardly fully forthright about his motivations. “To be honest, I’m the one who really needs the help,” he fibs sheepishly. “We all know I’m a disaster in the kitchen. But with your talents guiding me, maybe there’s hope!”

Over the next few weeks, you and Charles diligently show up for your baking classes. The instructor walks you through fundamentals like properly measuring ingredients, controlling oven temperatures, and mastering technical skills. Slowly but surely, your creations start emerging looking (and smelling) better and better.

One evening, you return home with a fresh tray of beautifully baked chocolate chip cookies — the first delicacy you’ve felt confident enough to bake since the lessons. You present them to Charles with bated breath.

He takes one tentative bite, his eyes widening in surprise. These are actually ... edible! More than edible — they are legitimately delicious! The dough-to-chip ratio is perfect, the texture is chewy but not dry or crumbly. He quickly stuffs two more into his mouth with an appreciative moan.

“Ma belle … these are incredible!” He gasps out between bites.

You clap your hands over your mouth, eyes shining with glee. “Oh my gosh, you really think so? I was so nervous!”

“Are you kidding? I could eat this entire tray all by myself!”

The two of you dissolve into celebratory laughter and hugs, the sweet taste of success quite literally on your tongues.

“I think it’s time for the real taste test,” you declare one day, rolling up your sleeves as you start prepping an array of fresh baked goods. “We’re taking these bad boys to the paddock!”

The next race weekend, you stride in carrying bakery boxes of your fresh chocolate chip cookies as well as some decadent fudge brownies.

“Fresh out of the oven!” You announce proudly, setting them down with a bright grin. “Who’s hungry?”

For a long beat, nobody moves. The drivers exchange wary glances, their self-preservation instincts kicking in as they recall the many baking debacles of the past. Lando bravely reaches for a brownie first, his face scrunched up preemptively-

Only to blink in surprise as the rich, fudgy flavor hits his taste buds. His eyes widen comically as he takes another bite. “Bloody hell ... this is actually good!”

The words seem to shatter the suspended tension. Soon the entire paddock is swarming the trays, devouring the fresh baked goods with delight. Charles watches on in disbelief, his own taste buds experiencing flavors he didn’t even know were possible from your former creations.

He sees Max take a bite of one of the cookies, freezing in place as his eyes slip closed with an expression of pure bliss. When they open again, Charles is alarmed to see they’re glistening with unshed tears.

The Dutchman wordlessly holds up the cookie, gazing at Charles reverently as a lone tear trails down his cheek. Then, to everyone’s astonishment, he brings the baked good to his lips and takes another sensual bite, savoring it like it’s the first good thing he’s ever tasted.

From then on, it’s like a switch has been flipped. The paddock that once dreaded your baking now seemingly can’t get enough of it. Every race weekend, they await your fresh creations with unrestrained enthusiasm, like kids on a sugar bender.

Charles has lost count of how many times he’s caught drivers and crew sneaking off to wherever you’re prepping the latest batch, nostrils flaring as they try to scout out that heavenly aroma.

It’s gotten to the point where Max’s performance coach has had to implement strict rules about his treat consumption to prevent indulgences from derailing his season.

“Easy there, Max!” Rupert calls in a booming tone, swooping in to physically restrain the Dutchman as he makes a mad dash toward where you’re unpacking that week’s fresh delivery. “You know you have a limit on those.”

Max strains against his performance coach’s grip, eyes zeroing in on the platter of goodies being unloaded with unrestrained longing. “I don’t care, she brought triple chocolate cookie dough brownies this time! Let me go!”

Rupert grunts in exertion, struggling to keep his driver in check. “This is for your own good! Think of your diet!”

“That’s irrelevant!” Max practically snarls, pupils blown wide like an addict suffering from withdrawals. “Do you have any idea how long I waited to have real baked goods again?”

It’s a battle of wills and metabolism that quickly becomes a weekly sight. Charles can’t help but chuckle fondly as he watches Max and Rupert’s familiar tug-of-war happen like clockwork every Sunday.

As much as he’d love to intervene, he knows better than to come between Max and your heavenly baked creations. He’s just thrilled that this baking journey took such a delicious turn — both for your invigorated culinary passion and for the safety of everyone’s tastebuds.

Honestly, he’ll take the sight of a feverish Max drooling over freshly baked goods any day over having to choke down burnt muffins and brittle biscuits. This is the sweet upgrade everyone had been dreaming about.

The true recipe for happiness was sticking by each other’s side through all those halfbaked stumbles.

[sour-leminies]

Helloo! Can you do a James Hook x reader in which the reader is like Kitty Cheshire (From Ever After High) But a more nicer person who’s bestfriends with Bridget since they’re both from Wonderland and Ella.. Hook and her meets at the Life is Sweeter scene and maybee you can think of the rest! Thank you!!

Smile

Paring: James Hook x Cheshire Cat Daughter F!Reader.

Summary: Growing up you were always told to put a smile on your face. It’s your motto, your mask. It first instinct to smile through anything. Though when a certain pirate says you should smile, every bone in you wants to defy him. However this always makes him more curious.

Warnings: None I can think of but lmk otherwise!

Taglist: Just comment and ask!

A/N: Ahhh, this was such a good idea — more thoughts on writing this at the end!

I smiled brightly at the sight of Bridget started to sing. She was working with the red haired girl beside her — making flamingo cupcakes.

She turned around offering me one before starting to sing — her voice kind and gentle. I grabbed one off the tray, biting into the delicious treat.

“It’s not really a secret recipe.”

I walked beside her, smiling as I sing out with her. “A little butter, flour, sugar, and a lot of positivity.”

We started to walk around the campus, people grabbing cupcakes as they were walking past. Part of them turning pink, Bridget’s color.

“Honestly, it always works for me.”

I smiled as she started to get more into the song. I held out my tray full of sweet treats as well, watching as they quickly started to fly off and into people’s mouths.

Me and Bridget smiled at each other before singing together, “cause the sun shines a little more brightly.”

“When you take things a little more lightly.” People around us also started to get into the vibe, dancing with us. Having fun.

I squealed as someone lifted me off the ground and spun me around.

As we walked up to Aladdin and Jasmine I couldn’t help but cringe at their pda. This school was full of it — but they tended to take it up a notch.

I fall into routine with the others, dancing in sync making sure to not fall. I handed Bridget the cupcakes again as it started to settle down.

“So your friends with everyone?” Red ask, making me wince. “Gosh no,” Bridget spoke. “My only friends are Ella and Y/N.” She said her time full of hope as she went on. “But with time and more delightful treats — they will be.”

I smiled at the two new girl, smiling widely despite the akward situation. Though my attention was stolen as a bunch of Vk’s made their way into the court yard.

I watched intrigued as they moved out the way — showing the captain. James Hook.

“Look for a hand, find a golden hook.” I crossed my arms, he had a nice voice. However the vibe I got from him rubbed me wrong in every direction. Which was weird cause normal I was fine with everyone.

“Captain of the seas I got ‘em all shook.” I watched as the rest of their group introduce themselves. Setting it up for Uliana — Ursula little sister to make her way. The Queen of bullies.

“Say Uliana and watch them flee!”

I looked over to their confused faces as Bridget informed them. “She’s Ursula’s baby sister.” Uliana rolled her eyes, while the Vk’s started to walk into us.

I watched as the pirate started to take a few steps towards me. Thankfully we all pushed back. “The sun sines a little more brightly.”

Hook and the rest off them pushed back as well. Though I felt my breath hitch at how close he got. “The darkness is a little enticing.”

Circling each other — we started to dance again. Though as I went to spin, a hook grabbed onto my wrist.

Getting pulled back I bump into the chest of the man responsible. I pulled my hand back away from him — though he used in hand to grab it again.

Before he could say anything I gave him a sarcastic smile. Disappearing leaving only my smile for a second.

I reappeared beside Ella — and continued to dance.

Once everyone was calmed down I made my way closer to Bridget, watching as Uliana took one of her cupcakes. “Thanks.” Though I could tell she was not being sincere.

Bridge started to be polite but she cut her off. “For all of them!” Grabbing the tray. Ella was the first to jump to Bridge’s defense. “Give that back to her.”

My smile dropped as they started to make fun of both Ella and Bridget. I looked down to the person beside me. I grabbed his tourney stick and pointed it a Uliana.

“Listen her sea freak. You’re going to give them back.” I could hear one of the new girls, Chloe I think list off the rules.

A hook pushed away a stick before Hook walked into my personal space. “Easy there lassie. Don’t know where you come from.” He took another step closer, and this time I could practically feel his breath on my face. “Don’t know where you come from, but her we fight after school.”

He pushed some of my hair out my face. “Meet me them.” I grabbed onto his hook for a hand. I took the gum out my mouth, pressing it to the sharp point. “You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

I pushed him back, causing him to smile. Though I wasn’t expecting him to lift the sharp hook to his mouth. Biting off the gum from it.

I glared at the pirate, as Red pushed in front of me treating the sea witch. “I only wanted the feathers.” She threw the tray onto the ground, causing a few people to jump. Rude.

Uliana was about to take a bit of all the feather — but kind Bridget was nice enough to warn her. “You really shouldn’t, that’s way too many.”

Not heading her warning Uliana placed them into her mouth — eating them. The sea witch started to brag about her self, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the flamingo screech she did.

“What was that?!” She looked around — trying to find what was responsible. I crossed my arms once again. Watching as she slowly started to turn pink, into a flamingo.

“You alright Uli? You’re looking a little pink.” I turned my heated glare back to his stupid face.

“No really?” I asked him, no duh genius. You would think a sea witch would know what too many feather would do.

“Easy there kitty. Don’t go starting fights.” He turned his full attention onto me instead of his boss. While everyone else watched as Uliana turn pink all over.

I couldn’t help but scoff. “You started the fight.” I look past him to see a flamingo Uliana glaring a Bridget and I knew exactly what she was thinking. I push past Hook and started to push Bridget to run. “Bridge go. Go!” Bridget, Ella, and me all rushed to run away and Uliana started to chase the three of us.

We almost made it into the dormitory when Maleficent and Hook blocked the door way.

“Hello again lassie.”

“How did you?” I started to question trailing off as I pointed to the court yard than to here. “I know my way around.” Is all he told me before the two of them started to chase us.

Running to the next door, Hades and Morgie blocked us next. We ran over to the fountain and once Ella pulled Bridget away I pushed the sea witch into it.

“She warned you.” I spoke to her, but she couldn’t hear me since she was underwater. Grabbing Bridget and Ella we all ran past the other kids. Making our escape.

⎈

I sighed as I collapse onto my bed. Luckily, I had a dorm to myself. Where I could finally drop the smile and relax.

I rested my eyes, finding myself comfortable before a knock on the door made me reopen them.

For a second I thought I just let them think I’m not home. I teleported in here anyway, it’s not like they say me come in.

Another pound at the door made a groan free from my body and I pulled myself up off my comfie mattress.

Yanking the door open I spoke before I even saw them, “yes?” Aggravation laced in my tone.

“Well aren’t you a nice kitty?” The teasing voice was one all to familiar.

“Hook.” He smiled before forcing himself in. “I was wondering when you were going to get home.”

“What?” Confusion made me furrow my brows, the hell was he talking about? “Worry not about that. I’ve come to properly introduce myself.” He grabbed one of my magazines ripping out the hot guy.

“Hey!” I snatched the paper from him trying to piece it together.

“I’m James hook. Captain. Villian. Charming, dashing, skilled fighter, amazing—.“ I cut him off before he can continue. “Alright that’s enough. What do you want?”

My arms cross and I lean against my table. “A smile for starters.” I felt my lips, only to realize I wasn’t smiling. There’s never been a time where I wasn’t at least smirking in front of people.

I try to find my smile — except I can’t find nor force it this time.

“What do you want? Hurry up.”

“Uliana is not a fan of you or your pink friend.” I kept my gaze on him as he strolled around my room. “Maybe you’d like to make a deal.”

“My protection, for your powers.” I tilted my head confused. “What do you need my powers for?”

He walked over to me, invading my personal space once again. “Well I hear sneak kitty is the best thief.”

“I’m not stealing anything for you.” I said simply. He gave a low up, bringing his hook up to push back my hair. “How about a date then?” I felt the air leave my body. Heat rushing back and all over.

I grabbed his arm and dragged him to the door, “no way, not until wonderland makes sense.” I was about to shut the door but his hand stopped it.

“Can I get one conversation at least? Tomorrow at the enchanted lake. Noon. And if you don’t show up I won’t stop trying.” He walked away causing me to roll my eyes. Pirates and their determination.

⎈

I had spent the day contemplating on weather or not I should go. I eventually decided to do so. I’m just curious.

Opening my door, I was surprised to find the pirate I was supposed to see at the lake at my door. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to walk with you, wouldn’t want someone to take advantage of you.” In a place full of royals and goody kids?

And villian kids.

Right. Rebels too. Deciding to just go with him, we walked quietly to the lake. Well I was quiet, and he kept talking and talking.

By the time we had gotten to the refreshing water cliff I had found myself started to enjoy his voice.

“So what now?” I asked once we had passed the bridge. “Well, now we cool off.” I looked at him confused before he shrugged off his jacket.

My eyes widened and I grabbed his hands, stoping him from continuing to unbutton his shirt. “What are you doing?!”

“Going swimming? You alright kitty cat?” His accent was very noticeable as he finished unbuttoning his shirt.

My mouth wet dry at the sight of him throwing it onto the ground with his jacket. His tan skin looked delectable, and I for some reason felt a desire to rub my hand down the slope of his abs.

“I’ll uh, I’ll wait here for you.”

He tiled his head, looking me up and down. Studying me. He gave a low hum before walking to the edge of the cliff.

“Sure you don’t want to jump with me.”

“I’m sure.” A part of me wanted to give the reason; I can’t swim, but a bigger part of me knew his kindness now was an act. He was still a bully.

He took a step off, falling with a smile. I leaned over the edge, watching as he splashed into the water.

I sat down, letting my feet dangle as I watched him swim around. Laughing when stubbed his toe against a rock.

I walked down the cliff meeting him as he walked out the water. “You’re soaking wet.”

His smirk widened as he shook his hair — getting the water out. Like a cat. I snaked his shoulder when he got sprinkles onto me.

“Watch it.”

“I’ll make sure of it, kitty cat.”

We sat on the shore, I made sure to not let the water touch my feet while Hook didn’t mind it. Classic pirate.

I laughed as he told the story of Hades throwing a fit when Uliana took Maleficent away from him for an hour.

“That’s nice.” I squint my eyes curiously. “Your smile. Your real smile, not that forced one.”

“I—“ I honestly didn’t know what to say. I just came up blank. “Thank you.” It was the safest option. The only thing I could really think of.

“Perhaps I should walk you to your dorm now.” I nodded quietly, just as quiet as we walked back. It wasn’t awkward either, it was comfortable.

⎈

I walked up to Bridget smiling, “How are you, your highness?”

“Ugh Y/N I told you not to call me that.” I laughed at her rolling her eyes, before linking arms with her. “Should we go dress shopping today? I asked.

“Omg, yes! But I hear there’s someone waiting in the court yard for you. Wanting to ask a very specific question.” She smiled knowing, and I know what her tone was hinting at.

“Someone’s trying to ask me to castlecoming?” I hated that the first person to cross my mind was a certain devious pirate.

We walked out the doors, and I lost my breath at how many people were out here.

Standing on a table with a sign saying ‘Castlecoming? Yes or no?’ Was Peter Pan. One of the royal popular boys only rivaled by Charming.

I looked around, Bridget had dropped my arm. Everyone was staring — expecting. Everyone was staring demanding. I knew the look all to well.

Always put on a smile

Papa’s voice waved through my mind at the same time I locked eyes with Hook. He was out here as well. Only a few Vk’s were out and about.

I felt like i couldn’t breath as I forced my smile.

Your real smile, not that forced one.

I gave everyone what they wanted, I said yes.

⎈

I didn’t see Hook the next two days. I hated that it got to me, I barely knew him. I had just met him for the white rabbit sake.

However every second that I didn’t see him, felt like a cruel laugh. One wrapped in a British accent.

The hours ticked and ticked and before I knew it Peter was knocking on Bridget’s door. I had gotten ready with Ella and Bridge but I would be arriving with Peter.

The carriage ride was quiet, and I had attempted conversation, but Peter in nice words was dry. I blended into the backround as Peter chatted and laughed with his friends.

Once they and all gotten to absorbed into each other I had made my way across and over to the drink stand.

“All alone kitty cat?” His voice wrapped around me, and it felt warm. “Hook.” I clipped my voice, not wanting to show how much I had actually missed his presence.

“Miss me?” Yes. “No.” I had only met this man recently, and yet he had such an effect on me. Like he was the moon while I was a star. Blindingly in awe of him.

“I missed you.” I searched his eyes for the lie, but instead found honesty. “I will say I’m upset you came with Peter Pan.”

“Are you angry at me?” My eyes pleaded for him to say no. “Not with you.”

He brushed my hair out my eye with his hook, taking a step into me. Leaning close to my ear, I could feel his breath fanning across my skin , leaving a burning fire.

“Rest assured kitty cat you may have came with him, but you will be leaving with me.”

I was sure I looked like a fish out of water with the way my face burned and the way my mouth wide open.

“Now,” he offered his hand, “will you dance with me?” I didn’t say anything, but I just took his hand. Letting him lead me out onto the floor.

“Is this a bad time to say I don’t know how to dance.” I whispered, kicking myself for being to wrapped up in him and not being focused.

“Don’t worry,” she placed my hand on his shoulder, the other in his good hand — all while his hook rested on my hip. “Just follow my lead.”

The music started, he took steps and I followed him. Every twirl I laughed, and every dip I smiled.

By the time struck midnight, I had left with Hook. Forgetting all about Peter Pan.

Walking across the bridge we were quiet until I spoke up. “I’m sorry I upset you. I didn’t mean to.” He kept quiet, I had walked in front of him — the moon light lighting my way.

“And I know how much you dislike Peter Pan, so I’m sorry that it was him—“ my hand was yanked back and before I knew it Hook had trapped my lips with his own. Taking my words away.

For the first time, I finally felt relief. I stepped into him as he placed his hook on my waist. His hand getting trapped and tangled in my hair as he pried open my lips.

He was so consuming, his lips demanded the attention he thought he deserved.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, lifting my up slightly, as wind started to blow.

Not to sound to on the nose, but it honestly felt like a fairy tail.

⎈

“Thank you for walking me home.” I shrugged off his jacket, handing it back to him. “Nothing to mention.”

He grabbed it from me, his gaze on mine. Searching. I went to walk into my room but his voice stopped me.

“Keep it.” Handing me his jacket he continued on. “You can give it back to me on our first date.”

“I dont remember asking for a date.”

He smiled and kissed my cheek. “That’s because I’m asking you.” Not demanding, but asking.

“I’d love to go out with you Hook.” He wrapped his arms around me and twisted the door nob. “James will do.”

I walked into my room, turning to shut the door. Right before it closed I whispered out, “goodnight James.”

“Good night Y/N.” He had waited until I was fully safe inside.

⎈

A/N: Ahhhh, I loved this idea. I can’t help but feel like this was rushed but I hope you enjoyed. James Hook is my soul mate trust 🤞

Navigation — other works!

[starleska]

The Nightmare Picnic - Wally Darling x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Wally!” you call.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?!”

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

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

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

So, you give in. “How did you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She pressed the daisy into your palm.

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

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

“Close your eyes,” says Wally gently.

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

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

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

“Yes?”

“Why do you eat?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But…maybe you should.”

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

“Open your eyes.”

You do so.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?!”

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

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

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

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

“You can’t.”

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

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

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

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

His thumb trails to the edge of your lip.

“...you see all of me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How I wish that were true.”

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

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

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

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

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

But then he looks away.

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

“Hey, you two!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you say, giving a weak nod.

“Thank you. Feel better soon, okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[writingstreetspirit]

One Breath, One Touch

Summary: A night out at Rita’s changes everything for the better

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Tension, reader is very shy, prolonged eye contact, kissing

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: It feels like it’s been forever since I last wrote a longer piece instead of headcanons, so here’s a Azriel piece. If you liked this, please like/comment/reblog/follow as it helps me and every other content creator out there. Thank you! 🫶🏻

—

Rita’s is full of people, not unusual as it was Saturday night. Drinking, laughing, dancing, and music fills up the building, a pleasant atmosphere of life all around you. A lot of handsome and beautiful things and people to look at, but there is only one person that’s grabbed your attention tonight.

You can tell he is watching you, because you can feel his stare in your soul. The Night Court's own Shadowsinger Azriel is just a few meters away, along with several others that are part of the Inner Circle, Cassian, Nesta, Mor, and Amren. They’re drinking and laughing, Mor and Cassian goofing along to the music.

While Azriel is there in the middle of the group, his focus seems to be entirely on you. His eyes are like whiskey, they glow in the light, and are dark in the shadows. He stands there, looking at you, waiting and watching.

You blush from the intense staring, not being able to hold the intense eye contact for more than a few seconds before having to look away, only to then return your eyes to him again, starting over the process.

This has become a routine over the years. While Velaris is not a small city, it is inevitable to run into all citizens at some point or another. Especially with you being a co-owner at the local bakery in the middle of town, you have had customers all over the Court visit to purchase freshly baked bread or sweet pastries.

That includes the Inner Circle, Feyre and Mor often visit for the delicious cupcakes, and oftentimes Azriel accompanies them, probably as a safety precaution with Feyre being with the High Lord of the Night Courts, Rhysand. The first ever time you meet the lovely High Lady you also saw Azriel.

It’s almost been four years to the day, and every time the door opened and Azriel stepped inside, your heart would race. You’d engage in small conversations, well, more like just a few words, but you’d think about those hazel eyes and dark hair for days until the next drop in.

He raises an eyebrow slightly. He leans back against the wall he’s against, and stares you down. You can sense some kind of tension like it’s something you can physically touch and see. You feel nervous, a fluttering in your stomach.

He stares at you for a while longer. When you're not expecting it, he walks away from his group and steps right up to you. His voice is low and rumbling. “Are you here alone?”

You blink slowly, feeling warmth traveling through your face. If you had a mirror to see yourself, you bet you’d be as red as a tomato. You admit in barely a whisper, “No, I came with a friend. Though I think they’ve left me for a male.”

The corner of his mouth curls down in a small frown, and he glances away from you for a split second before his eyes pierce into yours again. “She didn’t even say that she were leaving?”

You shook your head. It wasn’t the first time something like that has happened, and while it stung the first couple times, it didn’t bother you anymore.

“Would you like company? You seem lonely.” You gulp, looking away from Azriel’s intense eyes. Your cheeks are burning hot, and despite the thin dress and the slightly cool temperature you break out into a sweat. You croak, “Yes, I’d like that.”

His gaze returns to yours, Azriel’s eyes seem to pierce through you. He leans closer towards you, the a small smile forming on his lips. “Should I get us something to drink?”

“Okay,” You breathe out, your heart racing inside your chest. Azriel’s the most handsome male you’ve ever seen, and so…kind and caring. You find it hard to look at him without revealing all your personal thoughts and feelings about him. About how he’d been on your mind everyday since he first walk inside the bakery.

You can smell his scent, it is intoxicating, and it fills your mind with thoughts of him. He’s wearing that cologne that you’d sniffed out whenever he’s been near enough for years now. It’s good, fitting him perfectly. He is so close you could kiss him.

“What would you like to drink, sweetheart?” Azriel asks, and his low voice sends shivers down your spine. Your heart fluttered, he had called you sweetheart.

You don’t answer for a long moment. You’re sure that he’ll know what you’re thinking about if you answer him. Hell, he probably already knows. After all, he is a Spymaster, and a very skilled one at that. Finally you squeak out, “Surprise me.”

He smiles, then turns away to walk towards the bar. You breathe out shakily once your alone. Fuck, you think, I must look so dumb in front of him. He’s just being kind, he doesn’t like me like that. Just as you’d managed to gather yourself somewhat, he returns with to glasses in his hand. One’s a whisky, the other is…your favorite drink.

“I hope you like this one, I can get another for you if you don’t.” Azriel says, holding out the glass towards you. A shaking hand accept the glass, letting the cold drink cool your flushed skin. “Thank you. No, this is perfect actually.”

You sip the drink through the straw, a pleasant hum escaping your mouth at the pleasant taste. You miss the pleased smile forming on Azriel’s face as he takes a swing of the whisky.

“Have you had a pleasant evening, despite your friend leaving?” Azriel asked, and you look up from your drink to see that he’s already looking at you. You hum, nodding once. “I have. Have you? Had a pleasant evening, I mean?”

He chuckled, nodding to behind him where his very obviously family were still hanging out. “Indeed, but I think they’ve had more fun than me based on how much they’ve drank. Especially Cassian and Mor.”

You laugh softly, gazing down at your high heels clad feet bash fully. “Yes, it seems to be that case.”

Azriel studies you for a long while, waiting for you to look back up again. When you finally do he smiles that smile that you’d like to think was reserved just for you. Your hair has thankfully fallen in front of your face and you hope the strands hid the flush that spreads across cheeks.

“Though I can think of something else that would make this night impossible better than it already is.” Azriel spoke low, his voice barely louder than that you just managed to here him. You look at him questioning, curious as to what he was thinking.

He raises his hand, scarred fingers brushing strands of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear. He pauses, the space between you is electric and palpable. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking about right now?”

You want to say yes, tell me, I want to know everything single thing you’re thinking, no matter how small or seemingly unimportant, but you're too flustered to speak, so you nod instead.

He smiles slightly, it’s as if he already knew you’re tongue tied. His thumb traces your jawline, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. He whispers, “Y/N, I have been wanting to do this since the moment first I saw you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not knowing what Azriel is referring to, but before you could ask what he meant, his lips were pressed against your.

His touch is gentle, yet intense. Your heart is pounding out of your chest. You feel alive, your whole body is humming, electric. Azriels free hand is cupping your cheek tenderly, and you melt into his touch. Your hands creep up to his waist, gripping onto the fabric both to pull him impossibly closer and to keep your unsteady legs upright. Somewhere far in the back of your mind your hoping that you’re not spilling the drink all over the back of his shirt.

You don't want the kiss to end, but eventually it does. He pulls away slowly, as if he also didn’t want to leave your pillow soft lips. His hand fall away from your face, and you look up at him. Your breath rushes back to your lungs, and you are breathless.

Azriel stares back at you, you are both breathless. Eventually he speaks, his voice is low and rumbling. “You are the most beautiful person my eyes have ever laid upon.”

Your heart races, you have never felt like this before. Never been so enamored, felt so seen, both in and out, or so cherished by another. It’s exciting and terrifying at the same time. Please, a voice in your head said, don’t ever let this feeling go away. You pant, eyes unable to look away from his for even a second, “Really?

Azriel lowers his hand to touch your chin, to cup it in his and make you look him in the eyes. They are warm and soft, unlike his usual hard and closed off expression. His voice is low and rumbling, you can feel in your heart that he is telling the truth.

“I could look at you all day.” He tells you, “and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

You lean your flushed cheek into his hand, nuzzling into his warm skin. You smile up at him, at the male that had stolen your heart. The true words spill out of your mouth without any embarrassment or uncertainty. “You are too, Azriel. So very beautiful.”

He smiles back, and his touch is gentle as he strokes your cheek. All the tension and nervousness has melted away between you. Instead a warm, cozy feeling lingers between the two of you, the rest of the visitors in the bar just background noise.

“Will you take me home with you, Azriel?” You asked, looking deep into his eyes. Azriel lowers his hand from your chin, his eyes still locked on yours.

“Yes,” he says, his face shining with what you could only describe as pure joy. Wherever your newfound confidence came from, you thanked it greatly. He puts down his whisky on the table top beside you, and you follow with your own glass. “I will take you home with me if you desire it, sweetheart.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” You ask, a small playful smile breaking out across your face. Azriel chuckles low, slowly wrapping his strong arm tenderly around your waist and gently guides you along with him out of Rita’s and into the night breeze.

[strawberryspence]

happy birthday, @stevesbipanic! i am glad you were born, you amazing human being. I hope you get to drink the coldest, most delicious, bougiest milo you can have. ILY broccoli! 💛

-

Steve has never had a birthday cake. He doesn't count the first six cakes his parents had for him, because he's pretty sure it was only for appearances.

He remembers his seventh birthday. How badly he wanted to have a Flintstones themed birthday party, and how his parents called it tacky. Instead, Steve had a lavish tea party with all of their investor friends. He remembers hating it.

After that, there's— nothing. There were Nannies or Babysitters that tried to make him feel better by bringing him to Benny's and he's thankful for that. But there's always that heart wrenching rip in his system when he sees a child. Surrounded by family, singing happy birthday as they wait to blow on a cake.

And the thing is if Steve never gets to have that, it’s okay. It’s really, really, really, okay. That also means he’ll do his best to give all the kids the best birthdays they can have, so they can never feel what he felt. If El wants a day just full of craft making? Sure. Dustin wants to visit this damn planetarium in Indianapolis? Okay. Mike wants to dress him like him for an entire day? Alright.

Steve is happy that way, until Eddie Munson comes crashing into his life with a broken bottle. And okay, maybe it’s not a great idea to lie in the biggest and probably the most important relationship he has right now, but he’s not going to tell Eddie his little sad secret.

What he forgot to account for is the fact that his boyfriend is the biggest snoop to ever exist.

“Wha— What’s this?” Steve stammers as he enters his house. It’s almost always dark when he comes home, the house dull and empty.

Tonight, it’s different. After having his birthday dinner with Robin, Steve drives them back to his house so they can have movie night. Supposedly.

Instead, Eddie’s standing behind the long wooden dining table that never gets used, with 20 different cupcakes, all lit with a candle. There’s food and banners and balloons with streamers.

Robin pushes him forward with a smile, “So…” Eddie walks towards him, “I found some of your childhood pictures.”

“Oh.” Steve breathes out.

“Look, maybe I am wrong. Maybe I got it all wrong. Maybe your parents just weren’t the kind of people that liked taking pictures and having to develop them. Maybe someday, you’ll tell me why you only have one childhood photo album or why there’s no pictures of your birthday parties past the age of six.”

Eddie says, hands nervously twisting around his hair, “But, on the off chance that I am right,” He shakes his head in disbelief, “On the off chance that you haven’t had a birthday cake or a birthday wish in 14 years, I got you 20 birthday cupcakes.”

Steve can barely hold himself anymore, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, “Why 20?”

Eddie smiles at him, and his eyes sparkle at Steve like he hung the damn moon and stars, like he fucking created the whole universe, “One for every year my favorite person has been alive.”

Steve chokes down a half sob, half whine as he slaps a hand on his mouth.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Eddie whispers as he wraps Steve in a comforting hug. They stay like that for a minute before Eddie says, “I am so happy you were born. There’s a few more people that are happy, they’re all hiding in the kitchen right now.”

“What?” Steve pulls back, hastily wiping his tears.

“The kids are all here. Nance, Jonathan, and Argyle.” Eddie tenderly wipes a stray tear off his cheek, “Even Wayne, Hop, Joyce, and Mrs. Henderson is here.”

Steve’s not sure if he wants to know, but he still asks, “Why?”

Eddie visibly softens, but before he can answer Robin answers for him, “Because we all love you, Dingus.”

“So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to sit behind the cupcakes and they’re going to come out from where they’ve been eavesdropping.” Steve laughs when Eddie emphasizes the word, and there’s a clatter in the kitchen followed by whispering, “They’re going to act normal. And we’re going to sing you a song. Okay?”

Steve smiles, nodding, “Okay.”

“Okay.” Eddie says as he runs to the kitchen and as Robin ushers him to sit in front of the cupcakes. She forces a birthday hat on his hair, and he doesn’t even argue.

They all come out from the kitchen, all smiling and wearing ridiculous birthday hats. Even Hop and Wayne are wearing them and it might actually be the funniest thing he’s ever seen. The kids have blow horns that fill the silent house with joyous sounds.

They sing him a birthday song. It’s loud and it doesn’t exactly sound good. Dustin’s trying a new other pitch and Lucas has never been a good singer. Max is drumming on the table and El has a small tambourine. Mike and Will are trying to do some kind of duet in their own little bubble. But it’s the most beautiful, harmonious sound to Steve.

And as they all urged him to make a wish, Steve is struck with awe and disbelief, a feeling of realization sparking in his veins. Steve’s got everything he’s ever wanted right in front of him. He just wants all of them to be safe and sound.

He smiles at his family, as he lets his eyelid flutter shut.

And for the first time, Steve makes a birthday wish.

-

Edit:

Steve smiles, happy and content, as everyone chitchats around him.

"Hey, Eds?" Steve calls out for his boyfriend who's busy stuffing his face with bread rolls.

"Yeam?" Eddie replies, still chewing on the bread.

"Can I have a Flintstone themed birthday next year?"

Eddie swallows his bread with water, before turning to Steve with a smile so bright it could blind him. He moves closer to give his temple a light kiss.

"You got it, sweetheart. I'll be Fred, you'll be Wilma. It will be perfect."

[almondmilktargaryen]

The Girl Who's Got Agoraphobia (Part Two)

Summary: You're the girl with agoraphobia Michael told Oliver about. You're known for not leaving your room much (obviously). But that doesn't stop Michael from checking on you.

Couple: Fem!Reader/Michael Gavey

Category: Flangst, friends to lovers

Word count: 1.4k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

Dazzling Company

“It’s going to be bloody winter before you know it,” Michael said. “We should go out and enjoy the sun while it’s here. You’ll love it,” he said. He had been wanting to go to the Christ Church Meadow for days, pestering you endlessly for three of them. 

And, eventually, it worked.

The cows lumbered about in the meadow, minding themselves and barely looking up to see Michael spread an Oxford blanket out on the ground, smoothing it down meticulously. They didn’t care that you were holding a tray of cupcakes, even though they looked delicious. They matched the blanket in Oxford colors: blue and silver. The two of you then sit, the cows and fence just to your right, his left. Michael messes with the clingfilm and releases the cupcakes in all their store-bought beauty.

“I’m not one to promote stress eating, but they looked nice in the shop.”

You sit on your knees at first, smoothing out your skirt as you do. Fresh air a surprisingly convenient distance away from your dorm room is what you needed. “It’s not that stressful being out here,” you admit. It wasn’t a lie. The anxiety of potential disaster simmered when the fields came into view, long grass shielding your legs from the crisp autumn breeze. You take a blue cupcake. It’s moist, and the icing isn’t a cavity-inducing level of sweet.

Michael’s face shifts with a smile, all teeth. It’s adorable. “What was that I heard?”

You huff. “You were right.” You shift to sit on the blanket fully, as the needles in your feet are slowly phasing to numbness.

There’s a little shimmy to Michael’s shoulders as he basks in the admission. “Knew I would be.” He then takes a cupcake himself. A silver one (he has to keep the balance). “So the cows are good company?”

“It’s easier to tell that they don’t care we’re here. And I had to take your suggestion at some point.”

“So does that mean you’ll pick up Ulysses soon?” His brow arches as he playful pouts his lips.

You laugh, pointing at him with the same hand you held the cupcake in. “I never said that.”

“Come on,” he pushes you at the knee, making stray grass stick to your stockings. “Give the Irish a chance.”

“Don’t make me sound like a Tory.” You push him back. “I don’t have a working knowledge of 19th century Irish intellectualism to follow along.”

“I’ll give you a reading list.”

“Fuck off,” you snorted. “I’ve got plenty to read. And so do you.”

“Then, I’ll read it to you and give you a detailed explanation of every reference made so you can understand completely.”

“As long as it’s before bed so I have a soft place to land when I’m inevitably put to sleep.”

“Sounds like a date to me.”

You laugh again, but you also try to keep your blush to a minimum. You’re not protected by the flattering candles of your dorm room. It’s a bright afternoon with not a cloud in sight, easy to expose yourself. Michael is rarely one to tease you, but it still makes your nerves rattle inside. The pump to your heart you’re used to when something terrible is on the horizon, and not a yellow field with cattle and cupcakes. You inhale and exhale with purpose as you pray your heart has slowed. All because of bloody Ulysses? “These are good,” you attempt to say plainly.

“Glad I chose wisely.”

“Sometimes, you do.” You’re not above teasing back, especially with Michael being (or needing to be) correct. Grounding him is essential at times, whether or not the heat of a crush looms over you. But for now, you both take pieces of grass to chuck toward the other when they’re not expecting it.

The cows eventually get closer as the hour passes. The deep tone from their throats grows with them until one spots them and hangs his head over the fence. You didn’t notice until you saw Michael’s body jolt as he looked up. You’re ecstatic with your visitor, and take the time to stand slowly before letting him sniff you. Small snot drops graze your knuckles.

“An English Longhorn.” You say.

“Oh.”

“A pretty one too.”

It’s as if the bovine understands you. He nudges his head to rub your hand, and he soon invites you to scratch under his chin. You do so happily.

Michael’s mouth is full of chocolate cupcake. A blue one this time. “If I had known they would be this friendly, I would’ve brought food for them as well.”

You fake a gasp as you look down at him. “You’re telling me Oxford’s certified genius, Michael Charles Gavey, did not consider the idea of cows wanting a snack?”

“I wasn’t planning on spending time with the cows today.”

You crouch down to your tote, pulling out the paper bag, heavy with half sliced apples and some carrots. You shake it, and smirk at him. There was no way you could hide a smile completely, so this was your best chance. The cow enjoyed your one-up on him as well, smelling the outside of the bag.

“And using my middle name was unwarranted.”

“Every genius has his weakness.”

The cow interrupts the conversation. Either from lack of scratches or snacks, it’s hard to tell. You make sure to please him with both by starting with half an apple, then stroking his cheeks as he chews. You can feel him crushing the apple with his teeth. Accordingly, you pet and coo whilst asking how delicious it was.

“You’re a natural.” Michael says.

“A lot of my neighbors were farmers. They didn’t mind when I fed them.” You bend down and grab a carrot. The longhorn exhales happily as he chews again. “Do you want to feed him?”

“You seem to have a handle on it.”

Then another longhorn shows up. He’s sneakier, introducing himself with only a huff. It startles you for a moment, but Michael jolts again. He shines in a beautiful shade of black with patches of brown that the afternoon sun reveals. When the first one finishes eating, you take a carrot to the other. The cow takes it after a sniff and doesn’t protest when you scratch at his neck. He demands a bit more aggressively, with food and attention.

The other cow stomps a hoof into the dirt.

“I can’t give them both love. Help me.” You hold out half an apple for him to take.

Michael does not reach out. He doesn’t look at the cows, but the ground and feels the texture of the blanket between his fingers.

You keep the apple. You try to keep your tone light. “So, Michael Charles Gavey is afraid of cows?”

“Once again, the middle name is unwarranted.”

“Come and feed one.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You pestered me about coming out here for days and you won’t even take advantage of this opportunity?”

“We clearly have different definitions of opportunity.”

You make a tsk sound with your tongue. You stand on your ground. “I know cows, do I not?”

“You do.”

“So, do you think I’d let anything happen to you?”

Michael stayed silent for a minute, briefly frozen in his stubbornness. But eventually he sighs as he says “No.” He takes the apple from your hand after you help him up.

You urge Michael forward, but make him stick out his free hand first. “Introduce yourself. Gently.” One hand is on his shoulder, the other around his forearm.

The cow turns his head as he sniffs.

The tension in his muscles under his arm is hard to ignore, but you push against his strength as the cow picks up the apple with his teeth, leaving nothing but some lines of spit on his open palm. He chokes as he cringes at the sight. “Disgusting.”

“Don’t be so mean.” You pull out a pack of tissues from your tote as well, handing them over to the spit-sensitive weakling. “See? You did well.”

“Thanks.” Michael kept his hands behind his back after wiping them clean.

“Wanna go again?”

He looked sheepishly at the paper bag, then the cows, who still hung their heads over the fence, surely aware that there was more to be had. “Okay.”

“You don’t have to, Michael.”

“No. I should trust you. I’ve done it once already.”

“You sure?”

Michael reaches into the bag, making the paper crinkle (and the cows more eager) as he pulls out one of the bigger carrots. He hesitates to hold out his hand, but you help him. He bites his lips close as he pushes through.

Taglist: @anukulee

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: a request by @tenleyslipstick - “Can you do a sam and colby poly relationship on birthday fluff? My birthday is on the 8th, and I'd really appreciate it! <33”

Warnings: nothing but mild swearing. Enjoy :)

Word count: 1.1k | not edited

Happy birthday! - from your friendly neighborhood writer, SamandColbyOwnMe! Love you lots!

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

“Happy birthday!”

You sit up in bed, looking around in a confused panic, “What the hell?” Your eyes focus on flames and you sigh with a smile, “I’m going to kill you guys.”

“Sorry, babe.” Colby chuckles and sits on the bed. Sam steps closer with the cake with lit candles, “We wanted to surprise you.”

You laugh as you rub your eyes, “You definitely did something.” You look between them and to the cake, “You guys didn’t ha-“

“Yes.” Sam brings the cake down in front of you, “We did.”

Your eyes can over the words that are written on it and you smile, “Oh my gosh. That’s great.”

“Older. Wiser, and hotter than ever.” Colby laughs, “It’s only the truth.. so.” You lay a hand on his arm and the other on Sam’s wrist, “Thank you guys. So much.”

They smile and Sam nods toward the cake, “Make a wish, baby.”

You look between them and think for a moment before you blow out the candles, “There.” You laugh as you swipe icing off the side and lick it off your finger, “Mm. That’s delicious.”

“We only went to the best bakery in town. You deserve the best.” Colby smiles and nudges your arm, “Now.. get dressed and come down stairs.”

Your eyes go wide, “Oh my god. Are there people here?”

Sam shakes his head, “No. no. But there will be later.”

“You’re throwing me a party?” You purse your bottom lip out, “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s been set for weeks now, babe. Nothing more we can do.” Colby stands up, “Now.. come downstairs when you’re ready.”

“Okay.” You smile and stop Sam as he goes to walk out, “Let me have some more of that icing.” Sam chuckles and walks back over, “Do you want me to leave it up here?”

You debate for a moment, but shake your head no, “No. it’ll be gone by the time I come down.”

“Okay.” Sam shakes his head, “Happy birthday, beautiful.”

“Thank you, baby.” You smile as he kisses your lips and goes downstairs. You stand up, throwing on sweatpants and a sweatshirt before heading down.

Your jaw drops and you slowly make your way down the last few steps in shock, “Oh my.. you guys!”

The ceiling is littered with balloons of all colors.

There’s stray balloons on the floor.

There’s gifts on the couch and the cake is sitting on the counter next to cupcakes.

“Surprise!” They both yell in unison, “Happy birthday.. again.”

You laugh and cover your mouth as you walk over to them and they both hug you, “Thank you guys. I’ve never had a birthday this celebrated before.”

“It will definitely be celebrated tonight. We invited all your friends..” Colby kisses your head and Sam nods, pointing to you, “..and we’re getting a dj.”

“A DJ? Oh my gosh. Guys. This…” you look around, “I love you both. This is a lot.”

“A lot in a bad way or..” Colby smirks and you shake your head, “No.. no. Not at all. I just mean.. I feel so loved. A lot. Of love.”

They both smile and Sam holds out a heart shaped cupcake, “If you thought the cake was good, try these.”

You take the cupcake and take off the wrapper before biting into, “Oh my gosh.” Your words are muffled by cupcake, “This is delicious.”

“Uh huh! They’re sooo good.” Sam hands one to Colby, “Try it.” Colby takes it and tries and he has the same reaction you did, “That is a good cupcake.”

“You did good, guys. Thank you. I know I keep saying it, but that’s going to be an all day thing.” You laugh slightly and lean on the counter, “I can’t believe you did all this.”

“When we like someone this much, we want them to know.” Sam smiles and Colby nods, “Plus.. it’s not everyday that Sam and Colby become party planners.”

You tilt your head and smirk, “Is it though?”

They laugh and Sam nods, “Okay. Let’s be more specific.. party planners for their girlfriend.”

You laugh and nod, “There you go.” You set the wrapper down and look up, “So.. would you guys rather me leave and go get ready at y/f/n’s house and come back? You know, like a grand entrance into my own party?”

Colby nods, “Yeah, we already talked to her about that.” He chuckles and you raise your brows, “Wow. You guys are really on top of it.”

Sam shrugs, “We made sure everything was a perfect as it could possibly be.” He points to the couch, “now. On to the gifts.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

A few hours later, you’re sitting in your friend’s bedroom, talking about just how perfect Sam and Colby are as up apply your makeup.

“They literally planned everything.” You look at her, “Everything.”

She smiles, “They love you. So much. And you deserve it.”

You sigh, turning back towards the mirror, “if someone would have told me when I was younger that I’d be not only living, but dating two.. two guys from Kansas who are YouTube stars.. I would laugh because there’s no way I would have believed them.”

She laughs and nods, “No I totally understand what you’re saying. But it’s true.” She walks over, brushing out your curls that have been setting, “Hairspray.”

You hand her the hairspray and she sprays your hair, “You’re going to look so pretty.”

You smile and apply your lipstick, “I can’t wait to see what else they have planned.” You stand up, walking over to your bag and taking out your dress.

It’s a short navy blue, satin, spaghetti strap dress, and it’s gorgeous.

You change into it and fix your hair, “Okay. How do I look?” Your friend turns around and she nods, “That looks so good on you!”

“Really?” You smile and smooth it out and she nods, “Oh yeah. Are you ready then?”

“I just need my shoes and then we’re good.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You pull into the driveway of your house and you take a deep breath, “I’m kind of nervous, actually.”

Your friend laughs and pats your leg, “You’ll be fine. You know every one that’s here.” She smiles, “now come on. Let’s go birthday girl.”

You smile and get out, pulling down your dress before you shut the door. You walk up and your friend goes in first and you slowly follow behind her.

Everyone erupts with a loud, “Happy Birthday, y/n!”

Confetti flies overhead and you laugh as you catch some in your hands. Sam and Colby walk up to you and each gives you a peck on the cheek.

“Happy birthday, baby.” Sam smiles and rubs your lower back.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” Colby kisses your temple, “Now go party it up.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

A very special happy birthday to the person that requested this. I hope it’s and more! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[queensharotto]

Brittle Doughie’s Cookie Run x Reader Masterlist (Part 7: Spring 2024)

A masterlist of @brittle-doughie’s Cookie Run stories organized by month.

Genre Emojis

😞 is for angst, 🎃 is for Halloween, 🎄 is for Christmas, 🍪 is for Cannibalism, 💗 is for Yandere, 💝 is for Valentine’s, 👻 is for Horror, 🎂 is for Birthday, 💚 is for Yandere!White Lily Cookie

The Indents are related to the featured cookies. If there are numerous cookies (Over 10 Cookies Featured), I’ll make a note on that as well. Additionally, I’ll categorize various cookies if they’re associated with a specific hobby, location, food etc.

Also, the ⭐️ will indicate a story featuring one of Brittle’s OCs while ✨ will indicate someone’s interpretation of Y/N Cookie.

Additionally, many people proved art to showcase to Brittle, which will be indicated by this: 🖌️. I will also mention who provided the art.

April 2024 ☔️

• “Meeting White Lily Cookie” 💚

Featuring: White Lily Cookie

• “The Sound of a Divorce” ⭐️

Featuring: Crowned Cupcake Cookie

• “Angry or Grateful”

Featuring: The Five Beasts

• “The Perfect Vessel Doesn’t Exi-”

Featuring: The Five Beasts

• “Harbinger’s Bride” ⭐️

Featuring: Crowned Cupcake Cookie

• “Intolerance for Malevolence”

Featuring: The Cookies of Darkness

• “A Brave Advice”

Featuring: Gingerbrave and Friends, Pure Vanilla Cookie and White Lily Cookie

• “Legendary Group Chat”

Featuring: Legendary Cookies

• “Flirtatious Margarine”

Featuring: Royal Margarine Cookie

• “Frosty Affection”

Featuring: Frost Queen Cookie

• “Dessert Report” 🍪

Featuring: The Ancient Cookies

• “New Lock”

Featuring: The Time Balance Department

• “Hail Deity”

Featuring: The Weather Deities

• “Who Touched Y/N?!”

Featuring: The Ancient Cookies

• “I Know You”

Featuring: Stormbringer Cookie, Wildberry Cookie, Black Raisin Cookie, Crunchy Chip Cookie and Dark Cacao Cookie

• “Goddess of Apathy”

Featuring: Mystic Flour Cookie

May 2024 💐

• “Remember Who?”

Featuring: Starch Noodle Cookie and Pitaya Dragon Cookie

• “A Date?”

Featuring: Crunchy Chip Cookie and Wildberry Cookie

• “Letters from the Three Houses”

Featuring: The Triple Cone Trio

• “Deliciously Evil Banquet”

Featuring: Gingerbrave and Friends, The Cookies of Darkness and Pure Vanilla Cookie

• “Under the Castle” ⭐️

Featuring: Dumpling Cookie, Blueberry Pie Cookie, Financier Cookie, White Lily Cookie, Moonlight Cookie and Pure Vanilla Cookie

• “How NOT to charge your phone”

Featuring: Stormbringer Cookie

• “Gotta Go” 💗

Featuring: The Ancient Cookies, Black Raisin Cookie and Princess Cookie

• “The Wishful or the Regal”

Featuring: Lotus Dragon Cookie and Longan Dragon Cookie

• “Important Talks”

Featuring: Dark Fondue Cookie

• “Destined to be with You”

Featuring: Mystic Flour Cookie

• “Cocooned”

Featuring: Mystic Flour Cookie

• “Don’t Leave Me”

Featuring: Caramel Arrow Cookie and Dark Cacao Cookie

• “Late Arrival”

Featuring: The Cookies of the Dark Cacao Kingdom

• “Browned Butter Cookie”

Featuring: Financier Cookie

• “Such Drama”

Featuring: Romance Cookie and the TBD

• “Return to Flour”

Featuring: Dark Cacao Cookie and Mystic Flour Cookie

• “I thought we were friends”

Featuring: Shadow Milk Cookie and Mystic Flour Cookie

• “Longing Tide”

Featuring: Sea Fairy Cookie

• “No Escape” 💗

Featuring: Mystic Flour Cookie

• “Disintegrate” 🖌️

Featuring: Dark Cacao Cookie

Art by sei-cookie

• “Plans of the Harbinger”

Featuring: Dark Enchantress Cookie

• “Uh Oh” 💗

Featuring: Longan Dragon Cookie, Pitaya Dragon and Starch Noodle Cookie

• “Bitter Enemies”

Featuring: Chocolate Frosting Cookie and Street Urchin Cookie

• “The Lone Giant”

Featuring: St. Pastry Order

• “Broken” 😞

Featuring: White Lily Cookie and Silent Salt Cookie

• “Living Legend”

Featuring: The Ancient Cookies

• “Picked Up”

Featuring: White Lily Cookie

• “Sacrifice”

Featuring: White Lily Cookie

Divider Source l Next Masterlist l Previous Masterlist

[tyforthevnm]

“If I have a kid, I’ll call him Dracula.”

All About My Year: Gerard Way

My Chemical Romance Screamo King and Unironic Mustache Advocate

From Blender Magazine, January/February 2007, Volume 6, No. 1 Photograph by: Martin Schoeller

Transcript below

Favorite new band of 2006 Mew, from Scandinavia. They're huge in Europe, but I just found out about them, It’s breathtaking fantasy rock. 

Favorite new catchphrase I'm tired of these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane.

What are you going to rename your adopted African baby? Dracula. I've always said, “If I have a kid, I’ll call him Dracula”

Man-crush of 2006 Johnny Depp. He's been a steady winner for years now. Ask a lot of bands in black, they'll probably tell you him.

Favorite new toy I got a Sidekick III, but it’s really just a Sidekick II that's black. I love it. You can AIM people back home for pennies.

Trend you're most sick of What are hipsters doing these days? Oh, right: the ironic mustache! Not that there’s anything wrong with a real mustache.

Favorite sign of the Apocalypse This video I saw of Kevin Federline listening to “PopoZão.”

Most outlandish purchase of the year I got the entire original Star Trek TV series on DVD last night. Our record came out, and I wanted to get myself something nice. As if I didn’t already have enough nerdy shit.

Country the U.S. should “liberate” next None. I think we should send a country some cupcakes. You think some cupcakes would cheer up North Korea? Kill ‘em with deliciousness.

Funniest YouTube video I really hate physical violence, but there’s this one where this kid is talking shit forever to this other kid, and the dude gets into this weird jujitsu pose and just knocks him out with one punch.

Ambition/hope for 2007 Quit smoking. That's my goal. 

Will you be our MySpace friend? Of course!

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Want a taste?

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, August 2023 edition. 

prompt: cake, 311 words

rated: g 

content warnings: none

🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰

“Huh?” says Eddie, tearing his gaze from the display of cheerfully colored macarons decked in sugar blossoms. 

“I said,” baker boy repeats, still with that benign smile on his perfect face. “Want a taste?” 

Eddie blinks as he holds something out to him, some kind of … mini cupcake on a stick or whatever, complete with artful swirls of frosting and sprinkles. Like it’s a treat. Like he’s a hissing kitty and not a world-famous rock star. He snatches the thing. 

“This is lemon cake with raspberry frosting,” baker boy explains. There’s a tiny smudge of icing over his brow, half hidden by his glorious swoop of hair. Eddie wants to lick it off. “Flavors are entirely customizable, so-” 

“Yeah, anyhow …”, Eddie squints at the swirly letters on the guy’s apron. “Steve. My new record releases next month and the label thought an edible replica of my guitar for the party would be the icing on the cake.” 

He waits for the joke to land. Steve’s eyebrow arches in vague amusement. Fuck, why is he even here at all? This is Chrissy’s job usually, but of course she had to catch the flu and the stupid cake needs to be ordered by today. 

“My manager claims you’re the best-” 

“They’re right,” Steve drawls. Eddie wonders if he’s always this confident. 

“Not sure it’s up your alley, though …” Eddie gestures at the explosion of pink and pastels all around them and Steve shrugs. 

“I make Dungeons and Demons cakes for my brother all the time.” His voice drops. “Don’t worry. I can do whatever you like.” 

Eddie huffs and crams the cupcake-on-a-stick into his mouth to hide his flustered state. The taste explodes across his tongue, sweet and tangy and delicious, and a moan escapes him. 

“Oh, fuck me.” 

Steve winks at him. 

“Maybe let me bake that cake first.” 

Part 2

[pucksandpower]

Lewis Hamilton x pastry chef!Reader - Instagram AU

Accidentally deleted the ask for this but here it is!

lewishamilton

Liked by y/nhamilton, sebastianvettel, and 1,738,524 others

lewishamilton no one warned me how torturous it would be to stick to my diet when i fell in love with a pastry chef

View all 4,396 comments

y/nhamilton i made you a diet plan approved breakfast

lewishamilton and your vegan protein pancakes were delicious! but i would do crazy things for one of your oreo cupcakes right now

cullen_angela sounds horrible … remind me to thank y/n for that amazing box of brownies she sent over last night

lewishamilton you’re so mean to me

sebastianvettel i’m retired and no longer have that problem so y/n can ship whatever you can’t eat to me

y/nhamilton

Liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1, and 257,061 others

y/nhamilton dropped off some goodies for the team and now it’s time to cheer my heart out. let’s go, lew!

View all 859 comments

mercedesamgf1 thank you! we can’t wait to try them 🖤

f1wagupdates the way i want to work for mercedes just to have a constant stream of y/n’s pastries

hamilfan44 you’re so valid for that

mercedesamgf1

Liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, and 613,459 others

mercedesamgf1 a huge thanks to y/n hamilton for always keeping our stomachs full and spirits high

View all 2,072 comments

y/nhamilton so happy to do it!

aroundthegrid they really said we can’t overspend on catering (cough) if our driver’s wife feeds us for free. playing 4D chess

f1wagupdates i want to try one so bad 😭

y/nhamilton i have a small box of extras. meet me by the bench outside the main entrance a little while after the race and they’re yours

f1wagupdates omg thank you so much!

lewislvr she’s truly the best