#its just that i never ever leave until the other persons also finished up their work

[esleep]

i actually do kinda like delivering groceries on the side because it gives me such a unique cross-section of the community. i never know whose groceries im shopping for until i finish the delivery and see them/their home and it's like it adds more detail to the picture of who they are. the baby supplies going to the apartment that i know for a fact is one bedroom (they'll be moving soon - i bet they're apartment hunting, i hope they find a place). the new cat litter box, bowl, and kitten food going to the house covered in "i <3 my dog" paraphernalia (a kitten definitely showed up on the porch recently and made itself at home). the fairly healthy boring grocery order that includes an incongruous tub of candy-filled ice cream going to the home of an elderly woman with toddler toys in the yard (it's clearly for her grandkids, whom she sees often).

shopping for someone else's groceries is a fairly intimate thing. i've bought condoms and pregnancy tests, allergy medicine and nyquil, baby benadryl and teething gel, a huge pile of veggies paired with an equally huge pile of junk food, tampons and shampoo and closet organizers and ant traps and deodorizing shoe inserts and a million other little things that tell a million different stories in their endless combinations. one time someone had me buy one single green bean. i messaged them to confirm that's actually what they wanted, and they said yes - neither of them liked green beans very much, but they had a baby they were introducing to solid foods, and they wanted to let him try one to see if he liked them. another time i had someone request 50 fresh roma tomatoes - not for a restaurant, but for a person in an apartment. the kitchen behind them smelled like basil and garlic when they opened the door. another time i brought groceries to three elderly blind women who share a house. that was one of the few times i have ever broken my rule and gone inside a place i've delivered to, because they asked if i could place the grocery bags in a specific location in the kitchen for them to work on unloading and there was no way i was going to refuse helping.

i gripe about the poor tippers, but people can also be incredibly kind. one time i took shelter from a sudden vicious hailstorm inside an older lady's home in a trailer park, while i was in the middle of delivering her groceries. we both huddled just inside the door, watching in shock as golf-ball-sized hail swept through for about five minutes and then disappeared. she handed me an extra $10 bill on my way out the door.

when covid was at its deadliest, people would leave extra (often lysol-scented) cash tips and thank-you notes for me taped to the door or partially under the mat. i especially loved the clearly kid-drawn thank you notes with marker renderings of blobby people in masks, or trees, or rainbows. in summer of 2020 i delivered to a nice older couple who lived outside of town in the hills, and they insisted i take a huge double handful of extra disposable gloves and masks to wear while shopping - those were hard to find in stores at the time, but they wanted me to have some of their supply and wouldn't take no for an answer.

anyway. all this to say people are mostly good, or at least trying to be, despite my complaints.

[milktei]

Homecoming

Ushijima Wakatoshi x gn!reader

Genre: Sickfic, hurt comfort

Warnings: Slight manga spoilers

Requests: Closed*

a/n: hello hello! (is acting like i haven’t been gone for forever), can you believe i found this just sitting on a random note in my phone 90% done???? i literally wrote this over a year ago and never found the motivation to finish it ;-; due to its age toshi might be a bit ooc.

anyways, i’m not entirely back yet but i keep seeing lovely comments and reblogs that just make me want to start writing again ;-; maybe with the haikyuu movie being released soon my motivation will amp back up. ALSO i’m gonna try to start reblogging regularly again

*request box is still technically “closed” but if anyone has some genshin or *ahem* Baldurs gate 3 requests, i may be inclined to write if they pique my interest :)

enjoy!

If there was one thing that you knew for an absolute fact. it would be that volleyball would always be his main priority.

You knew this well before you started dating him, it was part of the reason you refused to admit your true feelings for him. You refused to take him away from his first love. Something that he was so visibly passionate about.

So you stayed on the sidelines, watching wistfully as the boy you had a crush on rose higher and higher, while you stood on the ground looking up in awe. This was comfortable, you were content with just watching and admiring. It was all you thought you were able to do.

Until he had asked you out first.

You had genuinely thought that Tendou was joking when he had told you that the Ushijima Wakatoshi saw you as anything more than one of the team’s managers.

His face was always devoid of emotion. Your interactions were limited to him nodding in thanks as you gave him a towel or water bottle, or him humming in acknowledgment as you relayed to him the notes you took after the most recent practice match.

And yet you found yourself standing in front of him, just outside the gym after practice, heart absolutely racing as he asked you out on a date.

Your first date was awkward to say the least. Having never spoken outside of club activities, you found it hard to keep a conversation flowing as you two sat in a cafe sipping your drinks.

He had walked you back to your dorm that day, but before you could go in, he had grabbed your hand.

You stared in shock at the large hand enveloping yours, “Ushijima?”

Suddenly, you felt a tiny gust of wind and a slight pressure against your forehead. You could only stammer dumbly as you realized the pressure was his lips.

He pulled away after a moment. He was heavily avoiding eye contact and turned his head to the side, but you could see the tips of his ears turning red.

“I don’t know much when it comes to this stuff. But I know I would like to go out again… if that’s okay with you of course.”

You gaped at the boy in front of you “I- um we…” you took a deep breath to centre yourself and smiled “Yes I would like to go out with you again Ushijima.”

Your relationship progressed quite fast after that. More dates, hanging out with him and Tendou in their dorm.

You were there for everything, cheering him on during games, you were the first person he would seek out when he won, you comforted him after a loss.

Your relationship lasted through high school and even university. It wasn’t long before you two ended up moving in together.

When Wakatoshi found his place with the Schweiden Adlers you were ecstatic. You had also just landed a great job and it felt like your two were simply cruising through life with ease.

Unfortunately your seemingly perfect life would never last forever.

Being in the v-league, volleyball seemed to fill his schedule more now than ever. Constant practice, games outside of the city even in other countries sometimes.

You hardly saw Ushijima anymore despite living with him. Even when you did, he was tired or just about to leave for practice.

It felt like you were pushed back into the sidelines. Watching hopelessly as he rose higher and higher, to places where you could not reach. It was no longer comfortable, you could no longer look in awe, but in despair as you watch him slip from the already loose grasp you had on him.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you went on a date. Every time you mentioned doing something in his free time he had brushed you off.

Which led you to now.

You woke up to an empty bed yet again. It was your day off so you weren’t rushing to get out of bed.

Yet you felt off.

The dryness in your mouth and throat is what you felt first. Then how runny your nose was. Finally, the cold sweat you were experiencing.

You were definitely sick.

You groaned to yourself and pulled the blanket to your chin. Hoping that you could possibly sleep it off.

Yet your efforts were in vain. After what felt like hours of trying to fall back asleep you realized that you were just going to feel even more miserable without anything to eat or at least drink.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows and immediately regretted it. The world spun around you and your entire body shook. You collapsed back onto your pillow and panted at the exertion it took.

As you caught your breath you turned your head towards your bedside table, where your phone sat charging.

Weakly, you lifted your arm and with a bit of effort you were able to grab your phone. As it turned on you winced at how bright the screen was and with bleary eyes you managed to open your contacts.

The words seemed to blend together as you searched through your contacts, you nearly sobbed in relief as your eyes finally focused on the name of your best friend.

You clicked the call button and dropped you hand to beside your ear, preparing for the way your throat would undoubtedly hurt as you spoke.

After a couple rings you heard the person on the other side pick up and you quickly began speaking, desperate to get them to come quickly so that you could hopefully feel better.

“Hey, I’m sorry if you’re busy but do you think you can bring me some drinks and maybe food? i’m not feeling the best and I don’t know if I can get up at all.”

The person on the other end of the phone began talking but you could barely decipher it as your head spun and your body shivered despite how warm you were.

“-/n….y/n?”

You froze at the deep voice on the other side of the phone. You pulled away an looked at the screen, nearly breaking down at the sight of Wakatoshi’s name instead of your friends. Quickly you put it back against your ear

“Ah I’m sorry Toshi. I meant to call a friend you’re probably busy you don’t have to come back home.” you said quickly, actually sitting up as you rambled nervously, reprimanding yourself for interrupting his practice.

You had called and texted him during practice before. At one point he was fine with it, responding during breaks or calling you back once practice had finished. But lately you had been greeted with one worded responses, or you were just ignored.

One time you even tried to pry once he got home from practice, asking him about his odd lack of response. That day, he had turned to glare at you.

“I’m busy y/n. I don’t have time for things like that.”

“You’re sick?” your thoughts were interrupted by his voice again. He used a tone much gentler than the one he had used that day.

“A little bit, nothing to worry about I can just call-“ you cut yourself off with a harsh cough, unable to hold back the whimper as your throat throbbed in protest.

“I’m coming home.”

Whether from his words or the fever you couldn’t tell, but a chill ran down your spine

“N-no toshi you don’t have to I’ll be fine don’t leave practice just because of me”

“I’ll stop by the store for some ingredients don’t get out of bed.”

And with that the call ended. Slowly, you took the phone away from your ear and looked at it in shock. He was leaving practice early. Something you weren’t aware he was willing to ever do.

At least not recently.

Only when the shock settled, did you realize just how much your body was protesting you sitting up. So, despite your better judgment, you lied back down, waiting in nervous anticipation for him to come home.

What might have been half an hour felt like forever as you laid in bed. Shivering underneath the comforter despite sweating profusely, rubbing your nose raw from having to blow it constantly, all whilst it felt like you were spinning.

In your haze you didn’t even hear the front door or you bedroom door open. How could you when your body demanded all the attention you had?

Wakatoshi stood frozen in the doorway, a plastic bag hanging off his arm, silent as he took in the state you were in.

How hadn’t he noticed before he left? you couldn’t have possibly entered this state within the couple of hours he was gone.

He felt a tug of unease pull at his heart and willed himself to walk up to you.

“y/n,” he called softly. sitting on your side of the bed.

You flinched at the sound of his voice not knowing he was in the room. Slowly, you opened your eyes and winced at the light in the room.

“Toshi,” you croaked pathetically.

His face softened and he brushed your damp hair away from your face, frowning when he felt how warm your forehead was.

“Hey,” he greeted, he lifted a hand and that’s when you saw a thermometer from the medicine cabinet in his hand “can you open your mouth please?“

Weakly, you did as he asked, and as it sat in your mouth, he quickly walked towards the master bathroom. Mumbling something about a towel.

You didn’t hear him however as you turned your head back towards the ceiling and already felt your eyes drooping again.

You only came to when you felt something cool against your forehead, you opened your eyes to see Toshi looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows. The thermometer beeped and when he looked at the reading the crease deepened.

Toshi disappeared for a moment again, making his presence known when he began to take the comforter off of you.

You whined as he did so, shivering even harder as air hit your body. You even sat up to try and grab it back.

“‘s cold toshi,” you slurred.

He was quick to place a thinner sheet on top of you “I know dear, but we have to get your body temperature down.”

As you pulled the blanket closer Wakatoshi opened the bag he brought with him. You heard the rattle of a pill container and then the crack of a bottle being opened. Wakatoshi turned to you and held out some medicine and water.

You reached out a shaky hand to take the medicine, placing the pill in your mouth. Wakatoshi helped you hold the bottle, noting how weak your arms were.

You sighed in temporary relief when you finished drinking, glad that your mouth felt less dry.

Wakatoshi allowed a small relieved smile to cross his face and he quickly helped you lay back down.

“I’ll make you some food, stay here.”

Once he was sure you were comfortable he made his way to the kitchen quickly getting his ingredients ready.

It was only when he was midway through washing some rice when he took a moment to pause.

When was the last time he had cooked for you?

Wakatoshi continued his task albeit feeling guilty thinking about how you’ve been the one cooking and eating dinner alone for some time now. It used to be a shared responsibility. Now he usually came home late so you would put a plate aside for him or he would go out to eat with the team.

He was still deep in though as he pushed the bedroom door open with his back, a tray consisting of a bowl of rice porridge and a cup of tea left a trail small trail of steam as he walked.

You were asleep but woke easily at the sound of his footsteps. It took a moment for your eyes to focus on him.

He gestured with the tray, “Do you think you can eat?”

You looked at the food, perfectly plated and garnished, your mouth watering slightly at the savoury smell.

“I think so. At least a little bit.”

He helped you sit up, and when he saw the weakness still in your arms he fed you himself.

You hummed contently at the first bite of food. You had missed this more than you thought you did.

After about half the bowl was done and your tea finished, you signalled that you stomached as much as your body would allow. Now with your body temperature having gone down and your stomach full you could feel yourself becoming less and less loopy. You watched quietly as he put the tray on the bedside table. When he was finished with that, he sat still on the bed and stared at the wall.

You looked at his face, despite it deceptively lacking emotion, you knew better than anyone else that something was bothering him.

However before you could ask he began to speak

“Why wasn’t I the first person you contacted when you realized that you were sick?”

You froze, looking down in your lap fiddling wIth a loose thread in the blanket.

“…Well…you’ve been busy as of late….I didn’t think it was important enough to take you out of practice. Someone less busy would have probably been willing to come.”

He slowly turned to face you. “You didn’t think that your wellbeing was important enough?”

You shrugged, “Well volleyball is always going to be your biggest priority. I’m just sick it’ll pass.”

Obvious distress crossed Ushijima’s face “y/n, you are my main priority.”

You paused. Perhaps it was time to tell him how you were really feeling instead of dancing around the subject.

“…It hasn’t felt that way lately.” you say hesitantly, your voice small.

Wakatoshi faltered. You kept looking down, almost scared to look him in the eye.

“I was content with that at first, your love of volleyball is admirable, it’s was drew me to you at first. But it always made you seem unattainable. When you asked me on that date all those years ago I was over the moon,” you paused to clear your throat huffing in annoyance as your sickness interrupted you.

“But I can only endure so much Toshi. Nowadays it feels like your going where I can’t reach. You’re always busy, which is understandable for a professional athlete… I just wish it wasn’t to the point where I’m worried about your reaction if I were to try to talk to you.”

There was a shift in the mattress. Then familiar arms that you had been longing for wrapped tightly around you.

“Toshi you’re gonna get sick.”

“It’s fine,”

“but-“

“I’m sorry y/n.”

you stiffened but stayed quiet to let him speak.

“You’ve done so much for me without complaint and I have done so little in return. i’m sorry for letting it get to this point. It took you getting this sick for me to realize.”

A stormy look crossed his face, “I… I’ve been struggling to balance work and home, in return I’ve been neglecting you and letting how tired I am influence my reactions. you don’t deserve that. you are my first priority y/n, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You sniffled and wiped a tear that fell from your face. You didn’t even know you were crying. For a man usually so quiet and stoic, he always knew what to say to you when he needed to. It was always so endearing to you.

“If I had known you were going to take it this well I would’ve said something earlier,” you say softly.

He smiles sadly, “I haven’t been making it seem that way hmm?”

You shake you’re head but smile back, “no”

He sighs to himself but places a gentle kiss against your forehead much like how he did all those years ago. Your eyes flutter shut and you make let out a pleased sigh. You were much more comfortable than you were when you first woke up.

“We’ll talk more once you get better. I promise,” He eventually says. holding you a bit closer to him.

You nodded and snuggled closer to his chest. While it wasn’t an immediate fix, it was a start.

“Sounds good to me Toshi.”

He smiled down at you “Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[simp4konig]

Halloweens with König headcannons 🎃🍂

Gender-neutral Reader

*Slow burn

Word Count: ~3246

*FLUFFFFFFF😿😿💖✨🩷🩷💘

*Soft König☺️ (but also König is a smug bastard + asshole 🙄), Established relationship, Single mention of (ambiguous) age gap 😮‍💨

🧡Happy Halloween guys!!🧡 I don't celebrate Halloween myself , but im feeling 😈in the mood😈 so i hopw this can suffice for this ooky kooky spooky season 😰😰

Gos i wanna kms ive veen so uninspirws AAAHAHAHAHDHDHDDH this is literslly. Me rn--->💥💥💥💥💥🙂🔫 fuckijg FINALLT GOT sometjing OUT 🥳🥳 rest asusred iwont kms i need to finish my rqs first ☺️💖💖✨ i will feel SO euphoric when all the WIPS will become Completed Works !! 😍😍Im just gonna not post until i gdt smth donw bci hate giving false promises its the same as lyijg,🗿🗿

Tag List ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @abysslovesyou ♡ @puff0o0 ☆ @rustic-guitar-notes ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @reyner-lee ☆ @lotionlamp ♡ @trepaika ☆ @luci4theminorannoyance

...

König wasn't really one for Halloween.

Hadn't ever been, really, as he hadn't been raised to celebrate it.

In his household, he hadn't had much exposure to the Western "Hallow's Eve".

Besides, even if he was familiar with the tradition, his parents didn't bother celebrating those kinds of trivialities; after all, they certainly weren't going to bother wasting hard-earned money on trifles like pumpkins, just so they'd rot on the front porch, or candy that would rot your teeth, or on vulgar masks that depicted serial killers and monsters, too blasphemous to bear.

Plus, his neighbourhood didn't partake in "Trick-or-treat'ing" at all, and wouldn't leave any candy for any children — wouldn't do anything, really.

Nobody decorated their house with ghouls and ghosts, nobody dressed up as vampires or murderers, nobody jumped from behind corners to shout "Boo!".

None of that, as these ideas were childish. Infantile. Juvenile, even.

Thus, October 31st, König's Austrian villiage was quiet. So eerily quiet you'd had thought it was a ghost town had it not been for hundreds of cloaked figures in the cemetary — as, for König, "Halloween" tended to be a more sombre occasion in comparison to the American/English versions.

Instead of running around and knocking on people's doors with a broad, lopsided smile like other children ought, he was brought along to visit the graves of his family members: graves of his ancestors, which he'd be told about in detail, details of the person buried six feet under the stone slab; information and stories passed down from generations.

He would be taught to honour those deceased in his family and respect their memory, to remember those in the afterlife and what they sacrificed to get there.

Carrying a lamp, he'd light candles on those decrepit gravestones, text faded and illegible, while his parents left boquets of flowers, and pulled up their long black cloaks. Silently paying their respects.

While it wasn't necessarily a day of mourning — König never needed tissues to wipe any tears or blow his nose, and neither did anyone else in the family — it was far graver when compared to the Halloween holidays elsewhere.

However, König's memories of Halloween were few, far, and in-between.

Whenever he'd hear of other people's experiences, he was never nostalgic, as, the times that he did attend those familial ceremonies he was either too young to understand what was happening, or knew too little of the deceased[s] in question to be moved by the heavy atmosphere.

Not only that, but the time period was overwhelmingly solemn, with people flooding the burial grounds, some murmuring prayers, others with tears in their eyes.

There was no laughter, no treats, no fun costumes. Not even tricks. Just suffocating depression all around.

So, he didn't really associate the celebration with something to celebrate: what, celebrating the deaths of your family? That was quite morbid, when he thought about it, and he wasn't going to dedicate an entire month every year to remind himself of death with so many other operators around him falling on the battlefield, and having had faced the grim reaper himself several times already.

Hence, every 31st of October, he did nothing. Didn't acknowledge it at all.

But all that changed one fateful day in September. When he finally acknowledged it, all right (with a little of your help of course)!

You had asked König in passing if he had considered dressing up as something for Halloween. Maybe what he had considered doing on the evening. Or if he had plans to attend the autumn fair sometime soon.

His response? A blank look. Distant recognition.

For a quiet moment, you thought he was scowling at you, silently ridiculing your childish suggestion.

Then: "Halloween? Ah!" An amused chuckle, endeared by the child-like curiosity in your eyes, and a silent sigh of relief from you.

"I don't celebrate it, myself, meine liebe. But you're welcome to tell me what your costume is. I'd love to hear all about it, maus."

Mortified by this revelation, you couldn't let this go.

"What do you mean you "don't celebrate it"? You have got to be joking!"

Wide eyes, and jaw agape, you were in disbelief.

He simply shook his head with a strained smile. "I've just never seen it as something to celebrate, you know? No reason to."

Taking it upon yourself to prove him wrong, you wasted no time converting this skeptic into a believer. "Oh no, there is. I mean, it's Halloween! Everyone is crazy for it!"

Suddenly, your eyes lit up. A wave of adrenaline crashing into you, you tugged König's arm in direction of the couch.

"That's where we'll start! We're gonna watch Halloween! That'll surely get you in the spirit."

You winked at him, satisfied. Then, a sudden snort and a suppressed chortle, hand cupped over your mouth as you laughed at your pathetic attempt at a joke.

König cocked his head to the side in confusion, but let you hastily scramble for blankets, pillows, and to microwave bowls of popcorn, as he made himself comfortable on the couch cushions that sank in protest under his weight.

Initially, he was reluctant. Not necessarily looking forward to being forced to watch movies from the 80s–00s, over-the-top movies with subpar acting, to say that he was looking forward to it would have been a stretch.

However, seeing how passionate you were about the holiday, your interests, König didn't want your sweetness sour.

Yes, he was a little older than you, and perhaps didn't grasp what there was to fuss over, but he wasn't about to spoil your good mood, or dampen that excitement just because he didn't personally understand or was interested personally. He wanted to make an effort, for you.

Vowing to take part in your silly shenanigans, he swore to become involved in the festivities in order to see you smile. To keep seeing you smiling.

After that, every October evening you'd watch a movie — a (usually) corny horror classic, though spending most nights binging all the Screams, Halloweens, Chuckys, The Shinings, Saws, and Evil Deads, — huddled under moutains of blankets and stuffing your faces with toffee-flavoured popcorn.

Watching horror films with him was like being lectured on common-sense and taught self-defence lessons in real time, though. Not like you minded, but it really got rid of the edge and the tension in its entirety.

Instead of paying attention to the storyline, it's more likely König would catch on to the stupid decisions the characters and the shitty attempts to fight back, and he wouldn't be able to help commenting:

"Why did she leave the knife in him? In his abdomen, of all places? Now the murderer has a weapon! Should have taken it out and left him to bleed out. But noooo, nein, leave the knife there."

"Going into the forest on his own? In the night? With a killer on the loose? Mein Gott, he is such a dummkopf! Bring a friend, why don't you?"

"Liebling, why is there so much gore? Isn't this rated "15"? Wait, and why is there a lady with no shirt? This is supposed to be scary, ja? I'm very scared. Scared you'll slap me, actually, if I don't keep looking at my lap."

Angrily ranting at the television, you'd gently reassure him, that, "Sweetie, this is fiction. Sometimes, the scenes are unrealistic." "But it said "based on real events"! I swear, liebling, if I watch another ten minutes of this I'll have a headache. I can't comprehend the stupidness."

Tough crowd, that couldn't really immerse himself in the plot, but you took a note or two for the sorts of horror movies König wouldn't dislike.

Although he insulted all the characters for being stupid and ridiculed all the characters for being so brainless, he would begrudgingly admit that he enjoyed the movie, pointing out some of his favourite scenes.

Self-aware comedic slashers meant he could suspend disbelief and laugh out loud a little, while, movies with an omnipotent monster meant he couldn't criticise any inaccuracies. He didn't winge at those as much in comparison to major blockbuster films. In fact, he even preferred low budget movies, ones that were pure comedic relief and so self-aware that he wouldn't be able to help but laugh along, unable to hide his amusement.

Afterwards, at exactly midnight, you'd be huddled together in the dark under a thick blanket, gorging your mouth with sugary sweets and bite-size chocolates (also indulging in chocolates that were far from bite-size), giggling like lunatics (well, that was mostly you, but König joined in to keep you company).

Later, face serious, with a torch under your chin, you'd be whispering hushedly with a tone of foreboding, voice low, and words ominous:

"Drip. Drip. Dripping water. She had checked the bathroom taps, the kitchen taps, and they were twisted tightly closed. A leakage, perhaps? Or, perhaps, something else. As she roamed the corridor, the drip-drip-drip of liquid grew louder. And louder—"

"Ah, she should call her plumber, then, shouldn't she?" A sure shit-eating smirk that was obscured by his mask, but the way his eyes were squinting you knew he was taking the piss.

Of course, storytelling was not as haunting as you would have had liked it to be: König would interject, interrupting the aura of mystery and the medatitive atmosphere, with sarcastic remarks. It made the narrations really melodramatic in the end, and frustrated you to no end.

Still, you would groan, and, undaunted by his immature antics — as, mind you, this was a grown-ass man, a 6'10 wall of muscle messing around like this, teasing you not like the cocky Colonel he was but a snarky teenage boy — continue:

"—she walked on — despite having been rudely interrupted moments prior — and her heart sank. Blood. A puddle of it, on the floor, looking like gallons upon gallons of it had—"

"Maybe she was — ah, what's the word?" A thoughtful pause, hand where his chin was under the fabric "— menustrating? Was she wearing white pants, maybe?"

"—Menstruating, König — and stop ruining my horror narration! Now I've lost the plot! Okay — against her will, her eyes moved up the wall, following the dripping blood. To her horror, it was coming from the attic. Swallowing the heavy lump in her throat, she pulled open the hatch with jittering fingers, grip slackened by the warm sweat on her palms, knees threatening to buckle. And, when the trap door released, she gasped. Blood draining her face, she saw—"

An exaggerated gasp from König, as he clasped his hands over his mouth in mock shock. "She— she saw— your mother! Mein Gott, the horror!"

"Shut up, König!" An annoyed huff, and shuffling away. "Honestly, you're such a killjoy..."

König, scooping you into his arms when you turned around with crossed arms, pouting lips, and furrowed brows, nuzzed his masked face into your neck, chuckling heartily. You squirmed under his hold, fabric tickling your sensitive neck, and you'd desperately hold back your giggles, trying hard to keep a straight face.

"Ja, ja, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Es tut mir leid, meine Liebe. Please keep going. What did she find in the attic?"

"No! You made me forget the grand reveal, now! I forgot what was up there, anyways..."

Walking around the house, you'd have the fright of your life when a huge shadow would jump in front of you at odd hours of the day.

"Boo!" König's voice resounded, loud and reverberating.

And you screamed, damn near verging on a heart attack.

"Shoving" him in frustration — you became actually even more frustrated when the man was like a solid wall and did not even budge a millimetre — König was quick to console you.

Doting over you, a wide smile on his face that the mask couldn't hide, he would be so overly lovey-dovey with you in an attempt to win back your affection that you'd roll yours eyes so far they'd end up in the back of your head.

"Meine liebe, I'm sorry for scaring you. I couldn't resist. You'll forgive me, won't you? You will, right? Please say yes."

You insisted you would, seemingly unassuming, then schemed to startle him at odd hours of the night as payback for losing your dignity in that moment.

At one point, you had even waited half an hour in the wardrobe while he was showering, only to jump out and see König in only a towel.

Yeah, you were the one that got jumpscared instead, face erupting in red despite you two being together for months at that point. You gave up trying to spook him then, bitterly accepting defeat.

Though, going along with your silly little activities, like going shopping for Halloween decorations, made König's heart swell seeing you bounce around excitedly and point out all the ornaments.

He didn't quite consent to you buying a life-size skeleton to call him Greg and place him in your shared bedroom. That was one step too far.

Still, seeing the wonder on your face, in awe of all the masks, costumes, decorations, and animated mannequins that'd cackle after triggering their mechanisms made his steel-blue eyes soften, melting into pure love and devotion for you.

So, to humour you one day, and to lift your mood after scaring you that one morning, König made two eye-holes in a white blanket, running after you around the house, almost tripping over it in his haste.

"Ooooo-ooo!" he moaned in over-dramatised agony, voice low yet playful. "This is not König, but his ghooost! Run, liebling, or you'll be neeext!"

Hearing him say that in his Austrian accent was so hilarious that were tears running down your cheeks from how hard you'd be laughing, and your sides splitting with the laughter, struggling scramble away, giggling.

Those moans of agony would become genuine cries in pain when he'd accidently hit his head on the doorframe when he forgot to duck in his excitement. The one time that bulky helmet of his could have come to use.

Despite all that, you'd be cornered against the wall, with nowhere to run, and König would pounce, tickling your sides viciously.

That broad smile on your face and the expression was worth fooling around and making a fool of himself.

He even didn't mind having you coo over his "injury" just like how he had when he was doting over you, because he loved you so much.

And, he loved you so much, that he even allowed you to "decorate" his gear. "To make it appropriate for the spooky season!" you had insisted, and he'd comply, not wanting to dull that sparkle in your eyes.

So contented with painting an intricate monster on his mask with fluorescent orange paint, you didn't notice König watching you hunched over the desk from behind, leaning against the doorframe with a loving smile on his face.

You hadn't expected that he'd wear that gear on base — veil, knee pads, helmet, and all — strutting his stuff. Just to remind everyone that their Colonel had a lovely spouse back home.

What you hadn't anticipated was how quickly König would start enjoying the season. Unexpectedly, he became obsessed with Halloween — his favourite tradition, second only to Christmas.

Carveling hollowed-out pumpkins of all shapes and sizes was one of his favourite past-times.

You'd think that with his size he'd struggle to cut through the orange crust without crushing it into pumpkin-coloured mush in his fists, but you'd be forgetting that he was skilled with a knife.

That said, König wasn't artistic. At all. The best he could produce would be a lopsided smiling caricature of... something. A nondescript creature, which you had complimented him on being so cute, only for him to angrily insist that it was an evil monster, and not cute at all.

Still, you would snap a picture before he could object, and give this pumpkin the spotlight on your front porch, soon many more following suit. Jack'o'lanterns illuminating your front step, glowing gold.

The sweet scent of cinnamon, ginger, and vanilla extract filled your house, new freshly-baked treats from the oven laid out on the kitchen island daily.

Delicious aroma of sugary pastry, homemade banana bread with small hints of vanilla and sprinkled with icing sugar, candied oranges and sour, sherbet lemon cakes, crunchy cinnamon sugar pumpkin seeds ("Made from the pumpkin guts!" you exclaimed with a smile of pride, König's eyes smiling in delight of your enthusiasm).

Crumbly shortbread in the shape skulls and bats, round cookies with orange and black icing resembling pumpkins, sponge cakes that oozed thick raspberry and strawberry jam when you bit into them ("Because they were bleeding blood," you proclaimed, a devilish smirk on your face — or, something like it, as to König you were the cutest angel he'd had ever been blessed to be around), and so, so, so much more.

So much that your weekly trips to the supermarket became biweekly, until you two found yourselves stocking up on sugar, flour, eggs, and butter far too often to keep track of.

The house was so inviting, especially to little ones from the neighbourd, that their mouths were agape and their eyes sparkled as they passed your "haunted house", holding the hands of their parent(s).

Mentioned in an earlier post that König has a soft spot for children, he'd stock up on Halloween candy and treats, and lug bucketfuls of sweets on the doorstep for any little ones that'd knock on your door to cheerfully cry out in unison, full of glee: "Trick or treat!"

He'd welcome them with open arms, but, with most of them being so little, they'd point with bulging eyes the giant on the doorstep, to be harshly reprimanded by their mothers and fathers for their ignorance and rudeness.

Few would say much after seeing König the giant, and after daring to scoop a handful of confectionary, bowing their heads and avoiding his eyes would mumble a shaky "...Th-thank you, s-sir—!"

One of them, however — a little girl with rosy cheeks donning white stockings and a gold tinsel halo — beamed brightly, albeit shyly, at König, thanking him for the treat and his generosity. An innocent, toothy smile that made her squint from how high it reached her eyes, her front baby teeth missing.

When she had her back turned to you two, she ran as fast as her chubby little legs could take her, and exclaimed, "Mommy! Mommy! That giant is a big and friendly one! A big, friendly giant. Can we go again, please? Please?"

It was only when you nudged König with your elbow, grinning, when she had skipped happily away, that he had realised he had tears in his eyes.

Moreover, maybe the memories König had of Halloween weren't so cheerful, or ones even worth remembering in the first place; after all, his childhood wasn't so cheerful. Joyless, and with little life.

But, with the way that Halloween was shaping up to be, he was already looking forward to the special celebration.

So full of life the you two were, you would laugh at the irony — animated and living the dream, while celebrating the day of the day. It brought you two to more laughter.

And, with you, König could make new ones, ones that you'd look back on fondly years from now, and those grueling months on deployment.

...

Note: Went off experience here for the beginning, guys🫡🫡 for the mowt part i have never celebrated Halloween😰 only a couple times in Poland, and once in England when i drank tomato juice and prwtended it was blood and i was a vampire🤪,

, but I Googled "Halloween in Austria" /Germany" to clarify whether I wasn't just speaking outta my ass and König here would have celebrated it differently to how I had in Poland 💀cuz, yknow, im not egocentric ajd the world doesnt celebrate things the same way Poles do 😘...

...And, no, I wasn't !☺️✨✨(... sort of😅... As far as I know, Germany has adopted the West's Halloween, ans theres pumpkin carving competitiomsn stuff, while Austria does indeed celebrate it slightly differently) .

Because I have no fuckijg idea of König's nationaloty anymore as it KEEOS CHANGING, I got the vest of both worlds 🥲🥲

Also been really busy guys😰😰😰by busy i mean stressing out ovee not writing then proceeding to NOT write bc im stressed❤️❤️🥰 you know jow it is!! 🤗(🔫) its ok tjo❤️(no it isnt) ill work tjis oit somejow🥹(no i wont im gonna kms) 🥰🥰

Have a very spooky halloween guys<3Feel bad foe those that are buying candy bc not onky is it smallwe than last uear but its more expensive 💔😟

[joequiinn]

PREVIEW | You Can Have My Hate | B.H. x reader

summary: Unfortunately, you got stuck with Billy fucking Hargrove as your partner for your final assignment in history class. Also unfortunately, Billy discovers you have a killer body underneath all those baggy clothes…

a/n: Billy is a disgusting little man and i love him dearly. as the title says, this is a preview of something i've been working on! the fic is already at 6.5k words and still isn't done, so i decided to put out a little snippet to see if there was any interest, so please let me know if you'd like me to finish the fic!

notes & tropes: fem reader, curvy + large chest reader, foul and suggestive language, canon typical Billy bullshit, awful behavior from both Billy and reader, minor allusions to sex but nothing happens (yet)

music inspo: Closer by Nine Inch Nails

preview wc: 1.9k

You let me violate you | You let me desecrate you You let me penetrate you | You let me complicate you

“Damn, little miss straight-laced,” Billy’s hooded eyes slowly crawled down your body, the corner of his mouthing pulled back in a lecherous smirk, “is that what you’ve been hiding under all those baggy clothes?”

God, you hated Billy Hargrove. Absolutely despised him with every fiber of your being. You knew you should’ve begged your history teacher for a different partner, should’ve gotten on your knees and pleaded for literally anyone other than Billy fucking Hargrove to work on this assignment with you. An idiotic football player or a bitchy cheerleader would’ve been better than this. But no, you didn’t beg and you didn’t plead, so now you were stuck, and god if this wasn’t about to be the worst couple weeks of your life.

Ever since Billy showed up in Hawkins at the beginning of last semester, you detested him. Everything about him screamed disrespectful, hateful asshole, and so having two classes with him meant you had witnessed your fair share of this behavior. Why so many girls wanted to fuck him and why so many boys aspired to be him was a mystery to you, because you could see from the start that he was a no good piece of shit.

But, in a way, you were lucky because you were literally a nobody. And nobodies went unnoticed, which meant not having to deal with bullshit from 90% of your peers. Hell, when your history teacher was pairing everyone off and told Billy who his partner would be, his response was an amused “who?” as if he didn’t believe this person - you - even existed. He had gone the entirety of the school year not having a single clue that you existed, and damn you wish it had just gone on a little longer. You literally had one more month left of senior year, one more month until you never even had to think about Hawkins High again, and the last thing you wanted was to spend half of that month in misery while trying to put up with Billy fucking Hargrove.

This assignment shouldn’t have even been worth shit to you, considering that your grade was nearly perfect and it was your last big project before graduation, but that’s where your history teacher hooked all of you - if this assignment wasn’t completed, then you guys wouldn’t be able to receive your diplomas. Or so he said to deter kids like you from flaking on it - you didn’t know if your boring old history teacher had that kind of authority, but you weren’t about to risk finding out.

And for kids like Billy? Kids who didn’t give a shit, who were already struggling to pass? The grade on this assignment was make or break. Not that it affected you any, of course - Billy could fail his senior year for all you cared. But shockingly enough, he was the one to make a point of its importance to you, the one to emphasize that he had to pass this class and graduate. It was curious to you, since you’d never once seen Billy care about school, but perhaps he was also beginning to feel the fire under his ass to leave Hawkins.

So, for the past week now, you’d been meeting with Billy at the school library, trying your best not to rip out your hair while you did the majority of the work. Hell, you could’ve told Billy just to fuck off and let you work on your own - you’d still let him put his name on the assignment and everything. But for whatever reason, you didn’t and so now you were subjecting yourself to tolerating his bullshit.

And that’s what you were doing right now, sitting across from Billy in the library and using every fiber of your being not to lose it on him. He had been particularly difficult from the moment he sat down, his foot bouncing impatiently and his expression condescending each time you tried to talk to him. He was making it very clear that he’d rather be anywhere other than here. The warm temperature of the library combined with your frustration at Billy was causing you to feel a little toasty, so you caved and tugged your large sweater over your head, leaving you in a tight, black tank top that left little to the imagination.

And said tight, black tank top is exactly what Billy was ogling, making you sneer and immediately regret taking off your sweater.

You never liked showing off your body, never liked the attention it drew you. You wouldn’t say you were self-conscious necessarily, you didn’t hate the way you looked in the mirror or anything like that. But you were very aware of how men looked at women’s bodies, and as someone who hated most forms of attention, you weren’t going to have any of that. So you wore baggy jeans and oversized sweaters, hid your frame under clothes that were always a size or so too big. It kept eyes and hands off of you, and you preferred it that way.

But damn it, it was so hot in the library that afternoon and you weren’t thinking clearly. You couldn’t believe your own stupidity - you just had to take off your sweater in front of Billy fucking Hargrove, a boy who only ever saw women as either sex pots or prudes. His lewd gaze was making you feel even more hot under the collar, but shit did you want to put your sweater back on already despite the heat.

“Will you please focus, Hargrove?” You begged in an exacerbated tone, trying to cross your arms over your chest in a way that wasn’t obvious while looking back down to the textbook open in front of you.

“You expect me to focus now, after you whipped those out?” Billy took such obvious joy in knowing that he was making you uncomfortable. He leaned forward on the table, his eyes once again traveling a salacious path down the curves of your body, “It’s Friday night, I got a pair of double D’s sitting across from me, and you’re asking me to focus on a damn essay?”

“Shut up.” You threatened between your teeth, trying not to raise your voice and draw attention. Your eyes were dark with frustration as you stared at Billy, who simply looked back at you like he didn’t give a damn, like he was just waiting for you to cave to him.

And how the hell could he tell you wore a double D?

You sank in your seat a little while attempting to cross your arms even more aggressively in front of your chest, feeling your cheeks growing red. Billy gave you that smooth, lazy grin that you’ve seen him use before, his eyes hooded as he leaned back in his chair. The feeling of his indecent gaze on your body practically made your skin crawl.

“Fine, Hargrove,” You quickly grab up your belongings and shoot to your feet, fumbling with your bag and sweater to make sure they kept your chest covered, “if you wanna be a prick who won’t focus, we’ll do this next week.”

You started to march out of the library, to retreat to safety. You didn’t like the way Billy was looking at you - it was objectifying and disrespectful and vulgar. Billy never once gave a fuck about - or even noticed - you before, but the second you remove a stupid barrier of clothing, suddenly he’s oh so interested. He was such a pig.

But shit, why was it also… kind of hot?

No, it was not hot.

You couldn’t let yourself even entertain that thought because there sure as shit wasn’t anything hot about it. It wasn’t hot that he objectified you, it wasn’t hot that he drank your body in with impropriety, it wasn’t hot that his tongue ran slowly along his lower lip as his eyes met yours with practiced allure.

No, no, no! You could’ve kicked yourself. Nothing about that should’ve been hot, god damn it.

“Oh, come on, killjoy,” Billy grabbed your wrist, spinning you back around to face him, having followed you through the library. His grip was firm as you looked between his face and hand and back again.

The library wasn’t exactly busy on a Friday afternoon, but you looked around to find that the librarian and another student both looked in your direction. It made you even more nervous to know that eyes were on you; what if you got in trouble, what if the librarian reprimands you both for being disruptive? You looked back to Billy, your brows furrowed in annoyance as you whipped your wrist out of his hold with hostility.

“I’m serious, if all you want is to slack off and look at my tits that’s your business.” You immediately clamped your mouth shut, your eyes widening slightly - that is not what you meant to say at all. Oh god, why the fuck did you say that? Shit, you should’ve just told him that you’d regroup next week, that you weren’t going to put up with him. But no, instead you said arguably the stupidest thing you could, and it was clear on Billy’s face that he was relishing in your stupid words, enjoying them even.

He looked back down at your body, luckily hidden behind your bag and sweater, “My business, huh? Sounds to me like permission to stare.”

“No.” You answered firmly; your cheeks and neck felt so fucking warm. You tried to get back on track, tried to shake off the stupid thing you said just a moment ago, “I just want to finish this project. So, go home and jack off to your Playboys all weekend, and then maybe we can actually get some work done next week.”

Despite your jabs, Billy still grinned wickedly, dipping his head a little as he took a step closer, his voice low, “So, that’s what you’re thinking about, huh? Me jacking off? You enjoying that thought?”

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to find some quick response to that, but you couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. A sound of disbelief left your throat as you gaped with loathing at Billy for a moment. God, you felt like a damn fish trying to breathe out of water. With a glare in your eyes, you clamped your mouth shut, which seemed to be a great amusement to Billy, whose smile widened as a laugh escaped him.

“God, you make it so easy.” He said, shaking his head, “You gotta lighten up, you know?”

You sigh loudly, eyes still staring at him harshly, “Whatever, Hargrove.”

You attempt to walk away once more, but yet again Billy snatches your wrist, “Wait, wait, wait…”

“Stop acting interested in me all of a sudden,” You try to shake your arm out of his hold again, but this time Billy’s grip is tighter, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Look,” his tone was firm as he instructed, “let’s go back over to the table, get some more work done, and I’ll give you a ride home.”

Your eyes narrowed into slits as you studied his face, “I don’t need a ride.”

“You don’t have a car.” He countered immediately.

“I don’t need a ride from you.”

“You don’t, but isn’t it generous that I’m offering?”

“More like devious.”

“I’ll be a total gentleman.”

You laughed right in his face, “You don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

[signedkoko]

I saw Charlie and Vaggie in your masterlist but there's no writing for them yet?? Well then I'll be the anon to change that!!

Could you do a plaronic oneshot/headcanon with Charlie and Vaggie (separately or together, whichever you prefer), where reader is the first resident at the Hotel? Think they were there before even Angel. Something about why they went there, how they get along with the others, etc. I'll leave it up to you!

Charlie X Reader X Vaggie [Platonic]

In which the two are happy to invite you to the hotel as their first resident. Reader is genderneutral.

It was an honest mistake

When Charlie was first looking for a spot, the hotel fell into her hands after being owned and neglected by the family

And in its disrepair, they needed someone who could help get it to hotel standards

That's where you came in! They saw your ad for interior design on TV once, and Charlie was quick to call you in to ask for your help

Vaggie wasn't so sure on the idea—not that you could do anything messed up—but she figured something as simple as interior design couldn't be that hard, right?

Either way, they had a lot on their hands, and Charlie was convinced hiring you would get a lot off their plate

When you arrived, you came prepared!

A huge book of samples, another with hundreds of paint colours, wood finishes, and inspiration booklets

But most curious of all, you were kind

You sat down with the two and asked all about their hotel—the first time Charlie had ever been prompted—rather than having to start first

Not only did you think it was a wonderful idea, but you offered to do the consultation free since it counted as 'charity' work

You were a self-owned company, and there was no such thing as 'charity' in hell, but you didn't need to tell them that; they seemed so full of hope

That evening, the two offer you a room to stay the night in, so you can get a feel for the vibe of the place

Unfortunately, when you awakened to several emails from your landlord saying you were being evicted for being past due, you realized you'd be on the streets

The worst part was telling them after they'd been so kind to you, and that's when Charlie offers for you to stay until you can get back on your feet

" It's okay! I mean, we can still hire you to work on the hotel, right? It's a long-term project! We can fund you until you finish! "

Besides, your prices aren't terrible, and they were already going to hire you, so why not?

It was a slippery slope from there, you helped them get all the rooms in order, helping customize as the 'first' guest, Angel, came to stay

Slowly but surely, it was assumed that you were also staying to get clean as well

Though it was called into question several times what exactly made you such a bad person in the first place?

" To be honest with you all, I was never an interior designer. "

You were just a talented scammer who lied about credentials to get a job

" Not that I planned on scamming you guys! I just, usually I'm hired by the wealthy, and you know... But I really do like interior design! I just never studied it. "

It comes as a surprise to most, but it explains a lot

In the hotel, you are closest to Charlie; who isn't! You are both creatives, and she was the one to welcome you so warmly

Vaggie is also a sweetheart, as much as she hesitates to get close to you

Though your muse is Alastor

He handles a lot of the transformative aspects of the hotel, and so you get used to making detailed maps and plans on how a certain area needs to look so he can fix it up for you

Of course, he always adds his own spin, which leaves you huffy

The only time you hadn't designed something was the mess of a bar, which Alastor insisted was 'state of the art' in his time

You let it slide, but very begrudgingly

Overall, you've become something of a 'permanent' designer for the hotel, mostly handling the customization of rooms

While your title of 'first guest' is in the air, the others still consider you such, and you do your best to stay out of trouble for Charlie

Besides, with the money you made, you're able to run your business from the hotel and can start working on getting certified as a designer!

Author's Note - I love these two! I agree, finally I can add something under their names on the list 🖤 Thank you so much for requesting!

[its-all-stardust]

Sugar || 1

Masterlist || Part Two

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

Author's note: hello and welcome to the most unoriginal title ever. this was originally intended to be a oneshot, but just as I was about to finish what ended up being this first part, I realized that would be impossible (unless I wanted an insanely long oneshot, which i did not). to be honest, i don't have a real plan for this series. i don't expect it to be very long, and there may be some Marc/Reader in the future, but for now, this is just about our boy Steven.

Series note: Set before the events of the Moon Knight series. I haven't decided yet if this is going to be following canon in regards to the powers/Avatar aspect but I'll let you know whenever I decide. Steven is still an alter, Marc still has DID, and assume Marc and Jake are around and know what Steven is getting up to.

It’s not like you were looking for someone when you visited the museum that day. Typically, when you do look for a new baby, you go through the regular channels. Word of mouth, the specific sites—the free ones and the paid ones. You’ve never just seen someone out in the world and thought Them.

It just wasn’t something that was done. It wasn’t something that you do. There’s no way to vet someone you met in person, and you don’t conveniently have all their personal details laid out in a neat format sent directly to you with the results of their background check.

You always thought picking someone you met randomly was a bad idea despite the fact that you haven’t exactly heard horror stories from others in these circles. You suppose it comes to the arrangement being based on trust. And you don’t exactly trust most people.

That is until you laid eyes on Steven, the slightly mousy yet also impertinent gift shop clerk.

You walked into the gift shop looking for a bottle of water. You had spent the last couple of hours wandering the Ancient Egyptian exhibit and needed a break before walking through the rest of the exhibits on display. You don’t know when you’ll next make it to the National Art Gallery, so you figured you’d make a day of it since you didn’t have any meetings to attend or calls to make.

You aren’t exactly impressed with the man when you first walk in. In an attempt to help another customer, he bumped into one of the displays and knocked down some of the figurines, smashing them on the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” he says, falling to his knees to start cleaning up his mess while the woman he was speaking to takes her child by the arm and steps away. But then he seems to change his mind and stands again. Looking over the display, he grabs one of the surviving figurines. “Here, this one’s perfectly fine.”

“That’s okay. I think he changed his mind,” the woman says, gesturing to her son. She then quickly leaves the shop without buying anything.

The man sighs, his shoulders dropping as he sets the figurine down and mutters himself. He then walks away from the mess on the floor to the back room.

When he’s out of sight, you step up to the display. Broken pieces of several figurines depicting a bird of some sort stare up at you helplessly.

You pick up one that appears intact, examining it. Although you just came from the Ancient Egyptian exhibit, you can’t tell which god the white plaster bird is meant to be. To you, it’s simply a bird of prey; its sharp beak and talons give it away, but it lacks any particular godly features.

Finding no fault other than that it’s a rather generic figurine, you set it back on the display with the other surviving merchandise. You’re about to pick up another from the floor, hoping to make the clerk’s job a little easier, when a voice stops you.

“Oh, no, you don’t need to do that.” It’s the clerk, having returned with a broom and dustpan in hand without you noticing.

“Thought you could use a hand, is all,” you say, smiling at him as you step away from the pile of broken figurines.

The man stares at you for a moment, frozen, giving you time to study him.

Curly hair falling over his forehead, large, dark eyes, clean-shaven, and baggy clothes that don’t quite fit him properly. 

Your eyes catch his name tag.

Steven.

All of a sudden, the man—Steven seems to flinch. You see a slight flush to his cheeks before he tilts his head down, hiding his face from view.

“Sorry,” he says as he starts to sweep up bits of several birds, though you’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. “Let me just clean this up, and I’ll be right with you.”

“Thank you,” you say as you wander away to look at the other souvenirs on display. You keep glancing at Steven, though, finding your interest piqued by him. 

“Make a mess again, Stevie?” a woman calls as she walks into the shop.

“You know that’s not my name, Donna,” he says as the woman walks past him into the back room. He follows, though he doesn’t look happy about it.

Steven comes back quickly, now missing the broom and dustpan, and when he spots you, the tension drains out of him, if only slightly.

“Sorry about that. Do you need help with anything?” He steps close to you, though still far enough away to maintain a respectful distance.

You just need your water, and you’ll be back out in the museum in no time. With your tight schedule, you shouldn’t waste a minute if you want to actually enjoy all the exhibits. But something in you, something about Steven, makes you stay.

“Actually, I wanted to ask,” you start as you lead Steven back to the display of figurines. “Who is this even supposed to be? It doesn’t look like one of the gods.” You point to the birds he knocked down.

“Horus, if you can believe it.” He scoffs as if personally offended. “Honestly, I wouldn’t look for anything in this shop to be all that accurate,” he whispers conspiratorially. 

“The gift shop in a popular museum can’t even be bothered to pay for accuracy?” you ask, even though you’re not surprised. The best way for businesses to make quick profit is to sell cheap products for far more than they’re worth.

Steven steps closer, keeping his voice low, not wanting to be overheard.

“My manager, Donna.” He gestures toward the backroom with a jerk of his head. “She’s in charge of ordering everything. When I saw she had picked out these, I tried telling her how inaccurate they were, that nobody would know who it was and have no reason to buy them. All she said was, ‘Nobody’s going to care, Stevie.’” He raises the pitch of his voice, a mocking impression of the woman in the other room.

“But you care.” It’s easy to see how much he does. Not everyone would get so worked up over an overpriced souvenir at a museum gift shop.

“Of course I do!” Steven says emphatically. “It’s why I work here. Well, not here here. Can’t say the gift shop is my favorite, but the museum—” He suddenly stops, cutting himself off as he stares at you.

You would think you’ve done something wrong, except all you’ve done is smile at him, the expression still on your face even now. Then you notice Steven is flushed again, and you can’t help but be pleased at the sight.

“Sorry, I’m just talking your ear off. You should have stopped me,” Steven says with an awkward laugh.

“I don’t mind listening to you speak.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Usually, you’re in better control of yourself, your words. You have to be.

Thankfully, Steven doesn’t find your honesty off-putting as some others have. He laughs again, this time with disbelief and a smile playing on his lips.

“You’re just saying that,” he says.

“You’re getting paid to sell things, Stevie, not to stand around flapping your lips,” Donna says as she walks out of the backroom, a box of merchandise in her arms to restock one of the shelves lining the walls.

“But I am getting paid to be nice to the customers, yeah?” Steven replies. Donna only rolls her eyes, a look he copies when she turns in the other direction.

You like seeing that he isn’t cowed by his frankly rude manager, even if he can’t exactly square up to her, not without likely risking his job.

What’s he like outside the gift shop when he doesn’t have to hold back? When he can say what he wants without being afraid of offending someone?

You push the thought away. You shouldn’t be thinking like that. Thoughts along those lines should be reserved for people you’ve properly vetted.

“Sorry about her. She’s…” Steven whispers, trailing off when he can’t find anything charitable to say.

“A bitch?” you supply. You don’t have to worry about offending Donna.

“Keep your voice down!” he half-heartedly scolds, placing a hand on your arm as he tries to suppress a grin. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but I’d rather not get caught, thank you.”

You’re about to say something else when Steven’s face falls, horror replacing the glee. He quickly snatches his hand away, stepping back as he realizes how close he is to you.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He gestures to your arm but quickly drops his hand as if afraid he’ll touch you again.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I didn’t mind.” You would have minded if it had been any other man, but Steven…

Stop it.

“You’re sure?” he asks tentatively, looking like a puppy about to be told he’s a good boy, eyes lit up hopefully.

You can feel yourself starting to burn with an overwhelming want.

“Absolutely,” you say, and Steven sighs in palpable relief.

“Oh, good. Still sorry, though. For not thinking and all.”

And though you tried to deny it, you can’t stop thinking that Steven…could be fun. Something alights in you the more you look at him. The different sides you’ve already seen. His helpfulness, his genuine interest, and knowledge about the place he works. The roll of his eyes and complaints about a manager. A man who’ll snark back, but only just enough to keep from getting into trouble. How he spoke to you as if you were friends before the slight mortification hit, and he realized the two of you are nothing but strangers.

You recognize something in him, and it makes you want him. Want to lavish him with affection and praise and gifts. Want him to give that same affection back to you. You want him on your arm. You want to play with him, see what makes him tick.

You want to give him all you’ve never had.

You shouldn’t think about him like this, not when you don’t know anything about him.

But you know enough. Enough to intrigue you. And he intrigues you more than any of the others you’ve been with. None of them have sparked this deep desire, not so instantaneously, not until they worked out exactly what you wanted and played that role. They weren’t like this naturally.

They weren’t like you.

But it has to be a no. You can’t. You have rules.

And yet…

You glance at your watch, the thin band flashing gold on your wrist, the crystal face sparkling up at you in the light.

“I have to get going,” you say regretfully, and Steven looks slightly disappointed. You want to keep talking to him and wipe that look from his face. You have to force yourself to take a step back.

“But I’ll see you around, Stevie.” You’re practically possessed as the nickname rolls from your lips, even though you know, based on his interaction with Donna, that he doesn’t like it.

You just need to see that fire. Need to know what it’s like when it’s directed at you.

“It’s Steven, actually,” he corrects with a slight annoyance that he tries to cover with a smile. He even taps his name tag a little more forcefully than he needs to, as if to make sure you get the point. He may like you well enough to have a chat, but he won’t put up with things that displease him, either.

Oh, he will be so much fun.

You try to smile sweetly at him, but it feels more like a predatory grin spreading across your face. “Sorry. See you around, Steven.”

[oceanblvdst13]

"SLUT!"

mentor finnick odair x victor fem!reader

summary : capitol's darling has gotten quite the reputation after snow's menaces, finnick comforts her through her frequent crisis.

warnings : FLUFF , mentions of finnick' trauma and whatever comes with it

"in a world of boys , he's a gentleman"

. ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

Beautiful is what your surroundings called you. Not hot or sexy, but breathtaking. Spending sunrises and afternoons on the beach with your friends shaped your days. They all spoke about their experiences but you were far too ignorant to try anything with anyone. Too sweet, too innocent.

Until the reaping, where you met Finnick. He had tried his best to help you win the games and was now beating himself up for it every night . Deep down , the second he met you , Finnick knew that your death was imminent. Either physically in that arena , or either mentally where you would have your body and soul stolen in the bed of Panem's elite at your return.

To his great disgust and to Snow's pleasure, you had won the games and became their jewel. Not only were you extremely desired one to one, but Panem loved your overly sexualized exhibits. The people were loving it and the traction was stronger than ever. New skimpy outfits every week, dirty jokes anytime you were interviewed, your soft soul had been muttered into a so said slut while your heart was shattering, not being able to let go fully of its innocence.

Finnick blamed himself. He wished you stayed eighteen forever, that you didn't celebrate your nineteenth birthday in a strangers bed, that you didn't have to spend your life the way he did, which is why he came to you every few nights. To hold you to sleep and attempt to wipe the horrors he's also lived a few years prior out of your head atleast for the time you slept. To seek comfort in your presence and kindness that still stayed nonetheless. But he didn't allow himself to think so selfishly. No, it was only for you.

That evening, routine catched up. Reminiscing about the days before all of it , and tears falling slowly on your cheeks in the dark, until you heard the familiar knock.

"How are you doing tonight love?"

"Okay." You responded, your tone of voice completely betraying your awnser.

Finnick knew. Words are hard and no one liked voicing their pain out loud. With him there was no talking about it, besides the sweet nothings he whispered into your ears.

His hands ran along your hips, lightly pressing on your shoulders, only to finish softly rubbing your back to sleep. Occasionally, he'd bring a hand up to your cheek to wipe a tear out of the way.

"I know baby, I know."

"You're not a slut, this isn't your fault."

"Give it time , time will heal everything."

Often , he'd kiss your forehead, in a protective mentor way and other times he'd kiss your neck in a much more personal way. Those times were the days you could actually get some rest. You didn't have an idea of love , since you never got to experience it before your dignity was stolen from you, but you'd imagined this is how it felt like. Dreaming of a world where you would be Finnick Odair's girl and not Panem's sex symbol.

Finnick did not have to imagine, he knew he was far inlove with you, the attraction he felt for you on the first days had sealed into total obsession after the dark bond you too shared. By saving you , he was also saving himself in a way. Finnick did not stay dreaming though , and actively worked against Snow for a day you could safely and slowly fall for him. He'd wait years , for you to learn love all over again and know the shivers and butterflies. For you to get to live , to leave him if you felt the need too. He would've given anything to see his girl happy.

And eventually, he did. Capitol had left its scars all over you and moved to the next one but Finnick was more then happy to heal each and every single one of them when he found out about the perfect thing, you fell just as hard as he did <3.

[multific]

Destiny

Mycroft Holmes x Reader

Summary: What happens when you fall in love with the IceMan himself? It can never end well, right?

Destiny.

A simple word yet it held so much power.

What does it mean to be destined for something or even, someone?

When you first heard about this word, your grandmother told you how she and your grandfather met.

A true love story.

A story so beautiful it was always in the back of your head as you grew older and older.

You hoped you would have a similar experience in your love life. Finding, the person and falling in love, it all sounded amazing.

You knew you wouldn't be able to force such a thing, you were aware of that. And yet, you were impatient. 

So impatient that in fact, you fall into many traps.

In many ways, you thrived in your life.

Expect your love life.

Your desire for a love like no other made you fall in love with men who were undeserving. 

Until you met Mycroft Holmes.

To say that he was the entire British Government would be an understatement.

You applied for a simple job, to be his assistant.

You spent so much time with him, that you thought you were going insane.

You blamed Stockholm syndrome for your feelings.

The moment you realized your feelings were real was during a very difficult week.

Almost every criminal in London had an agenda to mess with him. This caused you to do so much overtime, that you didn't even leave the office.

It was during the fourth day when Mycroft showed up with a bouquet. 

"I thought you would be home," he said, clearly he wasn't prepared to have you right there, at your desk. "Usually you arrive at 6:46 because you stop by at the nearby bakery for breakfast and coffee." 

So, he did pay attention to you. After he spent all that time to make sure you are aware that he simply doesn't care for people like you.

"I stayed to finish the file on this. I-"

"Did you eat?"

"No, Sir." he made a face at that and took his phone out of his pocket.

"Delivery will be here in 10 minutes. Eat, drink your coffee and then come speak with me. I'll be in my office."

He ordered exactly just what you wanted with the most perfect coffee you ever had.

He paid attention to you.

And you realized your feelings for him were real.

You knew hiding it from him would be impossible. Mycroft was incredibly smart. He would notice.

But little did you know, he felt the same.

He thought you would notice his feelings and confront him about it. 

He wasn't ready for a rejection.

Yet, your rejection never came.

Not when he asked you out to dinner. Not when he brought you another bouquet.

Not when he kissed you.

Instead, he let you guide him.

Love wasn't new to him. He loved his siblings, and his parents but this kind of love is very different. 

He didn't have experience with this kind of love, and it scared him a little.

But he also didn't reject it.

He embraced it.

And soon, a beautiful diamond ring found its rightful place on your finger.

It might have not been the way you wanted your one and true love.

But it was your destiny.

And you were okay with it.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[eponymous-rose]

So I've been playing Baldur's Gate 3 like everyone else and had An Incredibly Wild Combat Experience just now...

(spoilers under the cut for an early-game fight; if you don't care about the game, this is 100% parse-able as a d&d fight)

So there I am with my character Amisra (elf fighter), and a party consisting of Karlach (tiefling barbarian), Astarion (elf/vampire-spawn rogue) and Gale (human wizard). We venture into the lair of a hag to try to rescue this woman she's kidnapped and I'm getting a little blithe when it comes to spell slots and short rests - everyone's starting to look pretty rough, and then there's a long stretch of having to navigate carefully around traps, mostly via jumps that I actually remember to have Feather Fall on this time. "No problem," I think like every D&D player before me, "I'll simply take a long rest before the boss battle." And the game, in its DM-ish wisdom, says, "No, you can't long rest in the lair of an actively hostile enemy, what were you thinking???" and that's how I get into a fight that's way, way over my head.

I'm giving it my best shot, dealing with illusory hag-enemies and complicated terrain, but it's clear this is going to be my first total-party-kill of the game. Several characters have been knocked down and brought back up, and we've been in enough of a bad state that all of our healing potions are gone (leading me to the realization that you can craft in battle, which then leads to all of the crafted potions also being consumed).

The stage is set for disaster: the hag still has half her health (60-something points), and my whole party is out of all spell slots and fancy tricks. Astarion and Karlach are knocked unconscious on the other side of the room via Ray of Sickness, making death saves. Gale and Amisra are in some sort of necrotic zone that's dealing damage every round.

The immediate turn order: Gale, Hag, Amisra. Gale has 1 HP and will be unconscious from the necrotic damage after his turn. Amisra has a whopping 7 HP but is being held in the damage-over-time area by a Hold Person spell she cannot seem to save against. The hag has a perfect shot on everyone in the room.

So I'm sitting there like "well, it was a fun run while it lasted" and trying to remember when I saved last. At this point, I figure I might as well go for a little roleplay flair and try to think of what Gale would do for this, his final turn. Well, he'd look to magic. But, uh, sorry, those cantrips aren't going to deal 60 points of damage and get you out of your current predicament. Too bad.

Hang on. I've picked up so many scrolls, surely there's something there that might be a fun finish. Scroll of Flying? Nah, then I'll just die in midair. Scroll of Ray of Enfeeblement? Yeah, I'm sure she'll be real sad that her melee attacks do marginally less damage as she annihilates us with ranged attacks anyway. Scroll of Feign Death? Who's ever even used that spell successfully in a video game? What would you even--

Wait. Scroll of Feign Death. Resistance to all damage types except psychic, puts the target in a comatose state. Gale's going to be unconscious next round, but Amisra still has 7 HP...

So Gale, very dramatically, pulls out this scroll and casts the spell on Amisra, who Feigns Death very convincingly considering she's frozen on the spot and slowly taking damage. And Gale takes the last burst of damage himself and falls unconscious.

The hag absolutely doesn't stop there and keeps hitting Karlach, Astarion, and Gale until they're dead... but she never targets Amisra. She thinks she's dead. She actually thinks she's dead! And she might be right, as Amisra takes 2 HP and 1 HP of damage each turn, frozen in place...

And the hag just... stops. Everyone is dead, right? Yup, four bodies on the ground. Time to go and do whatever it is hags do for fun. She leaves the battlefield.

And Amisra finally saves against the damage-over-time with One. Frickin'. Hit. Point. Remaining.

I as the player have about 1 HP remaining myself as I fumble frantically to move Amisra out of the dangerous area and manage to remember how to use a mouse in time to cast a Scroll of Revivify on Gale. Two of us, each stumbling around at 1 HP, no other healing available, no idea where the hag is in her lair, the rest of our (very dead) party on the other side of the giant room, and a huge path of traps and treacherous drops to get back to the surface. What can we do but press on, deeper into the lair?

In the next room, which I have never seen before, I am shaking. If there's a trap, we're probably done. I'm too nervous to try looting anything in the room - what if she comes back? And then I see a sparkly fairy circle of mushrooms, looking an awful lot like an exit. No way. NO WAY.

I click that fairy circle so many times and just hold my breath as the two remaining party members stumble to the exit... and promptly appear back in the (slightly less dangerous) bog. The bog where, in its infinite DM-ly kindness, the game finally allows us to make camp, where I can resurrect Karlach and Astarion in peace.

And that's how we avoided a Total Party Kill with the most situational spell scroll use imaginable!

Edit: Also, a tip for when I did go back to fight the hag - a 2nd-level Magic Missile auto-hits up to 4 targets, so if you position Gale toward the middle of the room you can take down all 4 illusory hag-clones in one turn. Ahh, it was nice to have spell slots again.

[ellilyre]

I finished ToA not long ago and I wanted to write down some thoughts/scenes that stick with me

(in chronological (ish) order, watch out for spoilers)

Theres an italian girl at camp ! It means Nico gets to practice and speak italian ! (which probably haven't happened in about 70 years)

Will introducing Nico as "my boyfriend". I already knew they would be canon, but reading that line felt weird /pos

Apollo sees Solangelo and think of himself and Hyacinth

That night when Kayla and Austin disappeared and Apollo left to look for them, it probably was the first night Will ever spent alone in his cabin

Apollo's insane body dysmorphia. He's a god, he can always take the physical form he is the most comfortable and confident in... Until now. He is stuck in a body that isn't his, he feels ashamed, when he sees certain traits in others he find them charming or pretty, but when it's on him then it's disgusting. He complain that everything is this body's fault (ex. he wouldn't have been touched by the Eurynomos if it wasn't for his chub.)(I could go on for hours)

Lityerses ! I love that guy. Idk why i love him that much. He is my best guy.

Apollo's reaction to Commodus' name. His flashback of him. So painful he was physically sick.

Apollo talking Helios out of killing them, because he just want to be free, not to hurt them.

APOLLO ATTEMPT TO KHS TO STOP THEM ?? IM A SUCKER FOR SOME GOOD PAINFUL SELF SACRIFICE.

Jason. I'm not talking about Jason. I can't speak about Jason.

Frank and Apollo ! They are so fond of each other !!!

Apollo heard all of Frank's prayers when he was unclaimed and wished he could've adopted him.

And Frank respecting Apollo as a god although he is *vaguely gesture at Apollo/Lester*

Reyna saying aloud that she doesn't want nor needs romance. It's so rare to see aromantic representation and Rick did it so well.

Literally Apollo singing his way out of situations.

FRANK'S SELF SACRIFICE!!! (He already had one of my favorite character development before that)

APOLLO KILLING COMMODUS ??? why do never talk about that it's one of the best deaths I've ever seen that was BADASS AND FULL OF EMOTIONS.

Apollo slowly dying out of poison and the Dodona Arrow doing everything it can to keep him conscious.

I hope Dakota didn't get killed off just to give Lavinia the role of Centurion. I love my boy Dakota, and his death felt kind of meaningless, except for her rank up :/ also i feel like it doesn't suit Lavinia. Some ppl are strong and good and trustable but just not made to order others. (ill prop make a full post about that)

Dionysos confirmed to be an annoying little brother!

Nico. How does Rick manage to always give him more issues. Leave the kid alone.

When Will glows, Apollo is genuinely impressed and tells him how proud he is.

Nico destroying Nero's door with his giant zombie bull. That was cool.

When Apollo gets stabbed in Nero's tower and think it's the end, he prays "Zeus, Artemis, Leto, anyone"

And in general the few parts he talks about Leto, he's such a momma's boy and I love it.

When Apollo left for Delphi... I was fully expecting Meg to go with him. I was so worried that he went alone while already feeling that weakened from the previous events.

DODONA ARROW. FOREVER IN MY HEART.

Artemis is here when Apollo wakes up. She's by his side, she's the first person to tell him he succeeded, she hold him while he sobs...

The first thing he does is to greet his horses :) and then to see his friends.

When he gets back to the Dodona bush ! To tell them all how brave and heroic the Arrow have been !

I could spend hours talking about the character developments of Apollo, Meg and the Dodona Arrow (i love the arrow so much you have no idea) but its for another day

There's many things I didn't talk about, but the post is already long enough. I love those 5 books, and Apollo is an amazing narrator.

I love the Arrow of Dodona with all my heart.

[nanfrost]

An idea I have for a what-if Schneider survived, but with a slight twist. Might expand on this more with the right incentive.

It starts with Vertin in her own personal office in her suitcase, writing a new report for the Foundation. It has been months since the events of chapter 4 and Vertin is starting to get used to the new responsibilities and workload she has been given with her new position.

Today however, she was left all alone in the suitcase, a rarity these days after she had found a new family for herself. On this rare occasion, everyone seemed to be busy with something, leaving her all to her own devices. Even her trusted assistant who clings to her tightly like a puppy is nowhere to be seen either, for once having a matter she has to attend by herself.

So now, Vertin sits by herself, her report long since finished and finding herself immersing into the silence and quietness of her office.

It felt strange to her.

Just not too long ago, Vertin never paid attention to how silent her suitcase was. But now that she has a family, she realized just how empty things felt, and yet, it didn't necessarily bring her discomfort.

Instead, Vertin slightly smiles, partly out of appreciation of having some peace and quiet for herself after intense months of constantly working herself to the bone to accommodate for her new position, but also because she knows this silence is not permanent. That sooner than later, this place will be filled with noises and music again, and Vertin can talk to those she has grown far closer than anyone else in a very long time. That thought comforted Vertin.

And yet, she can't help but think to herself how it could be just a little nicer if a certain citrus scented girl was still around.

Her smile wanes, a tinge of sadness flash over her eyes.

It's silly isn't it? Vertin barely knew the girl, and yet she can't help but ponder about her every so often. Pondering about how things could have been, how things should have been.

Vertin knew nothing about Schneider, and at the same time she knew everything that mattered. That she was far too kind, too selfless, too loving to those around her to ever think about her own life.

Schneider was like her, and Vertin had really believed that she could save that girl. That she could give her a chance to live on and preserve her memories, and to find a way to move forward again after the Storm.

And yet, she failed, now left with nothing but memories she promises to preserve for as long as she lives. The memories of a girl so different to her, yet so similar all the same. The memories of a girl whose visage was that of a fluttering dove, one who imprints their impression onto you, only to vanish soon afterwards without another word. Stayed just enough to be remembered, gone far too quickly to truly be understood.

Vertin finds herself gazing at the distinctly folded clothes next to her desk, its crimson feathers still fluttering as if the one who once wore it still existed. The girl stood up and went towards the desk, her soft fingers gliding across the leather fabric of a coat far too big for the small woman.

She held it up to her chest, pressing the soft feathers gently onto herself as she closed her eyes briefly.

This wasn't anything strange to Vertin anymore, she had long made a habit to keep the belongings of her companions that were no longer present; a way to remember them.

But Scheneider had wished precisely for her to never forget her, and so she kept it close by instead of storing it carefully away with the others. Even if she knew she won't ever forget, Vertin wanted to make sure to herself, to be sure of herself that the girl whose memories still shine so brightly in her mind can continue to remain clear for however long possible. For a wish to stay fulfilled until Vertin can't remember no more.

Footsteps began to echo from far away, alerting Vertin as she opened her eyes once more. Her eyes misty, making it just a bit harder to see than usual. She wipes them away with her finger, before folding the clothes neatly again as she places them on the same position.

She hears a door creaked open, their footsteps now clearly audible inside her office. Vertin breathes out a short sigh, before turning to whoever was there, like someone from her crew or perhaps Sonetto, with the same stoic expression she always carries with her.

Except, the person that stood by the door was none of them, Vertin's neutral expression drops completely as her silver irises widen.

Standing beside the door frame was a small woman, her frame barely half the size of the wooden frame. Her frail yet still elegant body swayed ever so subtly, enough to communicate the fact that the girl was in fact there. That she was in fact present.

Schneider, the person Vertin has not forgotten, stood in front of her, their soft crimson eyes gazing back at Vertin.

This was an illusion right?

That's what Vertin immediately thought. It wouldn't be the first or last strange phenomenon to occur to her in this suitcase. She has seen many things before, albeit not something quite like this.

Yet, the figure moved forward, casting doubts onto Vertin's assumption as she stepped forward towards the gray-haired girl; her fingers grasping onto her chair ever so tightly.

"My lord?" The illusion spoke, their voice so awfully familiar. Can illusions really talk?

Vertin's hands began to tremble slightly, her eyes never once breaking away from nor blinked at her. She was frozen in the spot, staring at a perfect replica of the girl that shouldn't exist anymore. And yet, her voice felt so close, so palpable, she felt like she could reach for it right now and actually touch it.

Vertin wants to touch it, but this was still just an illusion. It has to be.

"My lord..." The illusion of Schneider broke her eyes away from Vertin for a moment, seemingly spotting something at the corner of her eyes. Was it the clothes? Can an illusion really pick up their surroundings like that, or is it just a trick? But a trick on what? What does it have to gain by tricking her?

Every question piles more and more confusion onto Vertin's mind, with no answer in sight. All she could do was watch the illusionary girl sway back and forth, before turning to look at her once more.

"Did...something happened?" Schneider spoke once more, the distance between them now shrunk exponentially, to the point that Vertin can make out the details on her face. The smoothness of her skin, the light paleness of her cheeks, her confused eyes, gazing at Vertin, an edge ever present to them that only helps to amplify how softly she looked at her; one so gentle and so fragile, like a single touch could shatter it in a single moment.

This was too real.

This "illusion" felt too real.

It reminded her of a spell once casted onto her a long yet still not long enough time ago, one that had also allowed her to see the same expression she was seeing now on this girl's face. That same fragility, that same softness, that same glint in her eyes.

Vertin couldn't help but purse her lips, trembling as they were.

"....Are you...real?"

Her voice was barely audible, her throat so utterly dried that it felt physically painful to even speak. And yet, she had to, for Vertin's hands was trembling from gripping onto the chair far too tight and far too long now.

Schneider's expression swayed slightly, as she seemingly took her time to process the question. Then, an agonizingly long second passes by as the girl's look at her once more with those same crimson eyes.

"Do you want to find out?"

And without another word spoken, Vertin dashes towards her, arms wrapped around the girl as she slumps onto the floor.

Vertin's hands gripped onto the girl tightly, feeling the fabric of the familiar jacket she had held in her arms time and time again now filled with genuine life once more. The crease of the fabric stretches and pulls with each subtle movement from its wearer, so lively with each one.

But most of all, Vertin could sense her heartbeat, a rhythmic, slightly faster than how it usually should be, pounding ever so gently on the same side of where Vertin's heart laid. A right heartbeat.

Vertin gasps, yet no air left her lungs. Her arms closed around the girl's soft body ever so more, as her shoulders began to tremble.

Schneider stayed still, her face flashing through many different emotions as she struggles to find one to stay on, but as she feels Vertin's trembling shoulders, her tight fingers clasping onto her coat so firmly as if for just a moment of careless could cause her to slip away from the girl's hands once more; Schneider stayed quiet, as she wrap her arms gently around Vertin.

The Timekeeper doesn't express emotions. It's what the girl had come to learn for herself. She had learned to process them, understand them and then bury them under her mind, to keep all her emotions firmly set in place. It's what was expected of her, what was needed of her. She had not abandoned her emotions regardless, no matter what anyone tells her she should do, but she had learned to keep them in check, to not let others worry about her.

Yet now, her arms wrapped tightly around the citrus scented girl once more, feeling her soft breath against her neck once again, and that very same girl could only let streams of tears run down her cheeks as her eyes remained still like glass.

After all, even a Timekeeper would cry when witnessed a miracle.

[toomanythoughts4myhead]

Pairings: ???!Coriolanus Snow x fem!scientists!reader

Warnings: blood, death, kinda dismemberment, tall of death, gore, Dr Gaul, mutated animal (nothing is too graphic)

Six feet bellow (preview)

Coriolanus Snow was a smart talented man, a gem amongst his peers - both in academic and personal performance.

Simply his name carried weight with it and it continued to linger in the empty classrooms of the Acadmy or even amongst the Capitols Citadel.

Coriolanus Snow was a never ending whisper, a legend with no face or form to match.

A ghost of his own that haunts any and all facilities his presence graced. Some say he went off to the districts to follow in his father's footsteps, some say he was killed or threatened to leave after his supposed win in the 10th Hunger games, but that's just a theory.

No one had seen that year air, people aren't even sure it happened at this point. You sure don't care much about it.

How couldnyou have known you would be the one to find out? And more importantly how could you cope with what he had become from your hands?

It's been almost seven years since then and the Hunger games were in their full swing as of now.

You hear the name of Coriolanus Snow often, funnily enough people compare you to him. With your excellent grades and mostly the liking that Dr Gaul had taken to you through your second year of the Academy, some people pointed out the similarities. You'd heard of the name before that, mostly seen it in greathalls or even engraved on a marble stone amongst the other students who were top of the class before and after him.

It isn't until Dr Gaul herself mentions him in one of your meetings, your activities after your university classes finish usually consist of long talks and even studies and experiments. As an official part of her scientists team and a prodigy in her DNA modifion studies you were no Saint.

You were born tainted, by your parents and their own blood soaked riches and even by your own choices. You picked this path for yourself, as unconventional as it it was for one of the heirs of the richest bloodlines to be a scientists. Yet here you were, you can sya that you are decently respected and mostly a mysterious figure in the frivolous antics of the Capitol.

Which is why it surprised you when Dr Gaul compared you to her old student Coriolanus Snow, the swift and ever charming golden boy of the Cademy frok almost a decade ago. You couldn't see her expression as she played with a mutated white rabbit who's long, now purple tongue scraped the bottom of its enclosure. Her tone didn't change but you haven't seen her weaver before.

Well until now, or maybe it was a figment of your own tired mind. She seemed almost tired and her usually plank straight posture seemed more relaxed, dare you say human.

"You remind me of someone i knew long ago - someone who failed me long ago, Miss Beaumont."

You raise an eyebrow but your expression is half hidden by the mask that keeps all chemicals in the laboratory breathable. You don't try to interrupt, especially after working with Dr Gaul long enough to know her drama prone nature. It also didn't rub you the right way to hear unreasoned remark, your work was pristine and your loyalty hadn't wavered. But Dr Gaul should know that after all these years with you by her side.

You hope your eyes don't twitch as Dr Gaul continues.

"But i do like you, child. You have your head on your shoulders, dont let me be wrong about you. I do hate being wrong"

The sickening squelch and the swift snap of the pair of scissors that cut off the rabbits tongue, followed by its screeches ring out and fill the deafening silence of the room. Your gaze doesn't weaver even as Dr Gaul makes her exit and leaves you to clean up her mess.

You didn't likenit when she got like this, her thirst for blood and odd sadistic desires were nothing new but when she started to talk in riddles things were usually on their way to become "interesting".

As you put the rabbits suffering to an end with a precise cut you can feel your determination surging. Whatever test Dr Gaul has undoubtedly decided to throw at you, you will concur. You are in way too deep, your hands were red with more than this rabbits blood.

[subrenaspade]

Twisted Wonderland x Reader :No Place For Children Heartslaybul Pt. 2

This story is just some cute fluff I thought that some of you all would enjoy. There might be some cursing, that's all I can think of at the moment. The reader does have a bit of a backstory, giving her a little bit of OC vibes, but besides some background elements the rest is up to you. I only write Female, if that bothers you I'm sorry, I'm used to writing female and I keep having to go back to take away she/her pronouns. 

I do plan to make a series but more along the lines of while in this dorm for one chapter then while in this dorm for this other chapter.

A little background about the MC in my story so you're not all too lost. The MC used to suffer from androphobia (A fear of men), that has to do with some past trauma That I might go into more detail about later on if I decide to continue this story. The MC is also a Orphan losing her father at four, then her mother at fourteen, so there will be mention of family. The MC spent all her time in foster care, due to her mother being an orphan herself and her fathers family disowning him. 

:(Prologue)

Heartslaybul: pt one/ two (You are here)

Savanaclaw: Soon

Octavinelle: Soon

Scarabia: Soon

Pomefiore: Soon

Ignihyde: Soon

Diasomnia: Soon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner went by in a blur, at some point Riddle had to take off to finish a few things, leaving (Name) with Cater, who was currently getting selfies with her. She giggled a little as he set up a filter that made it look like they had cat ears.

“You are just the cutest thing ever!” Cater cooed as he nuzzled into her cheek, earning another song of giggles from her. 

“Carter, stop it!” She let out in her fit of giggles. Cater let out his own laugh. 

“Its Cater, not Carter!” The girl looked at him confused. He smiled at her, ruffling her hair. “Just call me Cay- Cay. It will be easier for you.” He chuckled. (Name) Smiled at him as she nodded her head.  He smiled content with the nickname that he was never able to get her to say as an adult. He looked back at his phone and went to pick another filter when someone reached past him to ruffle (Names) hair. 

“Hey squeakers.” Ace greeted the girl. She turned her head and grinned widely. She shifted off the couch and rushed around to wrap her arms around his legs. He let out a chuckle as he leaned down and lifted her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder as she made sure she had a tight grip around his neck. He smiled widely, surprised that the young girl took such a shine to him. However his ego also said ‘what's there not to like’.

“Awww (Nick Name) I wanted to get a few more pictures of us together.” Cater whined as he stood from the couch. She looked at him then nuzzled back into Ace’s neck. 

“I wanna play with big brother!” She mumbled into Ace’s neck. Both boys stiffened at the adorable title she bestowed to Ace. Slowly a sly smirk played on Ace’s lips as he looked at Cater. Ace tightened his grip around her and spun around, getting the little girl to giggle. 

“W-Wait! You can't call him big brother and not me!” Cater stumbled around his words. He cubbed the girls cheeks, squishing them. “Now call me Big brother Cay-cay.” Cater almost demanded it. Both sat there staring at each other, until a mischievous smile played on her lips. 

“Cay-Cay!” She giggled and wiggled around in Ace’s hold. Cater let out a sound of mock hurt. 

“You all seem to be having fun.” Trey said, walking into the room. Ace had moved to sit on the couch as he stroked that child's back.

“Just Cater knowing you the squeaker's favorite person is.” Ace boasted. Cater sighed, sitting next to Ace so he could try to persuade the child into calling him big brother. Trey hummed as if deep in thought.

“Then I guess she doesn’t want a slice of cake since she probably wouldn't want it from someone who isn't her favorite.” Trey mussed as he held a slice in his hands. The girl perked up as she looked over at Trey with wide eyes. She slowly looked at Ace who also had wide eyes. He narrowed his eyes as he shook his head no. She looked down in guilt as she pulled herself from Ace’s hold and walked over to Trey. Trey watched with interest as Ace and Cater watched in disbelief and betrayal (From (Name) or Trey we will never know) as the little girl grabbed onto Trey's pants leg and looked up with the widest, clearest eyes. 

“Big bubby, I would like some cake please..” She mumbled sweetly. (cue Treys Glasses shattering due to the cuteness) Everyone sat there quietly, staring at the child who had laid down her pride to have a piece of cake. With a shaky hand Trey brought the cake down to eye level for her to take. “Thank you, big bubby~!” She chirped happily as she took the cake and ate at the coffee table.

All the boys sat there when they came to the realization…. This little girl had all the boys wrapped around her little fingers.

~~~~~~~~~ (Le time skip to Bed time)~~~~~

The small child sat on the couch with a hairbrush in hand. She ran it through her hair, grunting when the brush caught in her hair. Riddle watched the child from his desk, getting a few more minutes of studying in before getting distracted by his new room mate. The little girl had a thick head of hair that had many tangles in it, one in particular was making her struggle.  

After a few minutes he sighed, turning off the light on his desk and going to the small child. He took a hold of the brush, making the girl yelp in surprise. He moved to sit behind her taking the brush through her hair. They sat in silence as he gently untangled her hair, making sure not to tug and pull. Once the brush was able to run through her hair without tugging, he smiled content. Riddle's eyes softened when he noticed that she was starting to nod off, struggling to keep her head up. Placing the brush down he scooped (name) up and gently placed her on his bed. 

Once she was placed down he went to move to sleep on his couch, but a hand held his sleeve in place. He looked down to see the small child looking at him with blurry eyes.

“Dont leave…. Please…” She muttered, finally seeming her age. The look she gave him was one of fear. How many nights did she go to bed like this as a child. Has she always looked this lonely. He sat on the side of the bed, next to her (After he turned off the lights letting the lamp be the only source). He stroked her hair, easing the child into slumber. She curled into his side wrapping her arms around him. “Daddy…. Used to cuddle with me before I went to sleep….” She muttered drowsily, reliving the comfort of her fathers hold. The safety he emitted when he held her. Riddle froze his hand, surprised to hear her talk about him.

“He sounds…. Like he was a really good man..” Riddle whispered in return. She nodded her head, tightening her grip on him.

“Momma…. Doesn't like talking about him…. She….gets sad and cries a lot…” She murmured as her eyes drooped. Riddle awkwardly hummed for her to continue. “Since daddy passed…. She works a lot… She gets home late and leaves early in the morning…” She continued. She looked up at him through her lashes, a look of anxiety flashing over her face. “Will you be here in the morning?” She asked, voice cracking as her eyes watered a little.His hand froze, he looked at the girl with wide eyes. He felt a pang of sadness resonate in his chest. 

“...Yeah…. I'm not going anywhere…” He muttered as he leaned into the headboard of his bed. She smiled a little, letting her eyes flutter shut. He hummed as he stroked her hair. He thought for a bit. 

Has his mother ever tried to soothe him? Had he ever had to be soothed up until his blot? Thinking long and hard, he could remember a song. A small lullaby. It was a small song about dreams and creating a world of their own. A small part of him hoped that the song that crept into his mind was something his mother had sung for him. A song she sang when holding him as she rocked back and forth in a rocking chair. As she looked down at him, not with a look of expectancy, but of love and adoration. 

Slowly his eyes started to get heavy as sleep started to engulf him.

[harlowcomehome]

Father’s Day tears and flowers:

This was requested by @jackharloww, thank you!!

A/N: Hazel is three here.

It was the day before Father’s Day and Hazel had been running around the house all day, making it extremely hard for you to focus on getting things together for tomorrow. She usually didn’t have this much energy but luck would have it that tonight she did.

Jack was in Vegas, and planned on flying home on a redeye.

“Hazel, do you wanna make something for daddy?” You tried to distract her as you started to put together the gift basket you were making for him.

“For Father’s Day?” She giggled having heard you talking about it earlier in the day.

“Yes baby, go sit please” you pointed to the table and she excitedly ran over to it.

You had bought some plain white ceramic figurines for her to paint as Jacks present from her. One horse and two unicorns to represent the three of you.

You realized Hazel had painted the horse entirely in gold, making only its eyes blue and you smiled as she took her time on each figurine.

“Mommy, can we have bagels for breakfast?” She was already planning her breakfast the night before which made you giggle.

“Yeah! I planned on making Daddy those bagel and egg sandwiches he likes” You smiled as you wrapped the gift basket in cellophane.

You let her finish painting her figurines, leaving them out to dry while you got her ready for bed.

“When I wake up will daddy be here?”

“Yes baby” You pushed back her curls as she got into bed, kissing her forehead and telling her you loved her as you went back into the living room.

You had bought a bunch of balloons, hiding them in one of the guest rooms. You set them out in the living room along with his gift basket. You also bought him a bouquet of flowers and set that in the middle of the table.

You knew he wouldn’t be home for hours but you just wanted to be prepared.

You set an alarm so you’d be awake to greet him.

When he walked in the door, you shot out of bed and tiptoed to the living room.

“Was I too loud? Sorry,” he whispered, before looking around the room. “You did all of this for me?”

You nodded, running over to him and jumping in his arms, covering him in kisses.

When he was done kissing you back, you jumped down from his waist.

“Baby, you didn’t have to do this” he walked over to the flowers, holding your hand as you followed behind him. “You’re so cute” he let out a chuckle.

“Don’t act like I don’t buy you flowers every year” you hummed, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

He immediately spotted the card with his name on it, knowing you had probably written the sweetest words in it. He looked forward to that part the most, he never told you but you had a feeling. He kept every card you had ever given him locked in a fireproof safe.

“Do you want me to wait until Hazel is awake?” He hummed, his eyes still looking at the card on the table.

“You can read the card now, but I’d probably wait on the gifts.”

He picked up the card with his name written on the outside of it, sitting down at the table, pulling you in his lap.

You scooted yourself back on his lap, leaning against him as he read the card in front of you.

“Jackman,

Happy Father’s Day! Just like every year, you’ve nearly left me speechless but I’m going to try my best to express how much you mean to Hazel and I.

There is no other person I’d rather do life with, let alone parenthood with. Seeing the way you love and care for not just me but our daughter has been the greatest gift of all. You’re so patient, and kind and you go above and beyond for your family. It sounds impossible but I love you more and more every single day.

You are my love, my literal heartbeat outside of my chest, and the hottest DILF ever.”

Jack chuckled at the last line but you could tell by the way he sniffled after that your card made him cry. You turned around and looked at him realizing he had tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to cry! ” You wiped his face.

“These are happy tears” he sniffled, his cheeks red and embarrassed.

You knew he was exhausted and that’s probably a big reason as to why he was so emotional but you found it endearing and loved when he showed this side of him.

“I love you. Thank you for all of this, even though it made me cry” he joked letting out a laugh before wiping his dripping nose with his hoodie sleeve.

“I love you too handsome, you don’t have to thank me” You turned to kiss him.

“Wait, did Hazel paint those?” He pointed to the figurines.

“Let’s get you to bed” You stood up trying to distract him from looking at them too much. “I don’t want you to get worked up again” you teased, standing on your tiptoes to make sure he didn’t have any more tears on his face.

“Normally I’d laugh that off but you’re probably right, my eyes were already starting to sting again” he joked and you couldn’t help but laugh as the two of you walked to your bedroom.

[imaginewarehouse]

Human!Sheriff x Reader x Human!Doc Hudson || Drabble

Plot: Flo's diner on Friday Night's is always a lot of fun- there's good food and drink (Which is not out of the ordinary, admittedly), good company (The whole town ends up there at some point in the night), and theirs dancing. You're determined to get the hot old men to dance with you.

Warnings: Age difference I guess but its not a focus point.

I have had this fic in my drafts, finished and all, for years. Since like, 2019-2020, but since I wrote it just for me (Also the reason for the fist person perspective), I had never bothered to edit it- well I finally did and I think its kinda cute ^^

🔆🔆🔆

“What are you two doing just sitting around and drinking over here for?” I ask Doc and the Sheriff, as I sweep off the dancefloor in exhaustion and rest in the chair beside Doc (The material of his blazer grazes my bare arm and I get a little jolt from the innocent touch). Mater’s a sweetie pie, and a great dancer but… boy, does he have more endurance than I do. After I take a second to gather my exhaustion and banish it, I turn to the two men and flash them a smile. “It’s fun out there!”

“Hmm, your exhaustion and the sweat completely bucketing off of you is especially encouraging.” Doc rolls his eyes, and turns to look back at the dancers. Ramone and Flo are dancing smoothly in the middle, like they’re practised, like they do it at home because they just love each other like that- unsurprisingly. Then Sally and Lightning are there, too, Mater’s found a new partner in Guido while Luigi laughs at his friend’s expense off to the side, and Lizzie's talking on happily to Red off to the side. A soft smile rests on my lips, until I turn away from the scene and back to the two men I’m sitting with. Sheriff’s already looking at me, which makes me smile wider.

“Being tired and sweaty is a good sign!” I exclaim, winking. “Sheriff, what about you? Fancy a round with me?” How many innuendos can I make with these men and get away with it? How many until they get it and take me? I’m not saying take advantage… because neither of them would do that- but at least recognise what I’m trying to get at here and ask me about it!!

He chuckles, moving in his bar stool chair to be more comfortable. “That’s a lovely offer, darlin’, but I’m afraid I’d probably just slow you down. I’m not as young as I used to be!”

At this, an opportunistic light switches on behind Doc’s calculating eyes, swivelling on his stool ever so slightly in order to turn that piercing stare on the sheriff. “Yes, he’s missed his last 3 check-ups, Y/N. Anything could be wrong with him.” Sheriff bristles and his expression dissolves into guilt, as he refuses to look at Doc who’s smirking. “Damn hot rods not allowing you a single day off to visit the office, right Sheriff?”

“Uhuh, ri-right.” Sheriff quickly clears his throat, straightening in his chair now to look around at anything other than Doc. As he does that, Dr Hudson glances to me with a quiet, conspiratorial look before taking another drink from his mug, making me giggle quietly.

In a moment, I raise my eyebrows at him. “Why don’t you take a dance with me, then? You must be at the height of health, ey Doc?”

A grunt is his response, as the amusement leaves his blue eyes and he looks away again.

“Come on, one of you? Both of you? I’m not picky- I’m desperate! Mater’s got a new partner and… “I risk a glance at the tow-truck owner and can’t stop a laugh from bubbling up to the surface. “Guido’s a hard act to beat! He’ll never want me back. I’m dying to get back on the floor, though!”

“Guido’s seemed to have transformed miraculously into a sack of potatoes.” Doc states in that slow, gravelly drawl, assessing the dancing couples as well. And it’s true, making me really chuckle this time at his analogy. Mater is just swinging the little Italian around at this point, with absolutely zero help from Guido himself. Guido’s toupee keeps bopping around and slipping out of place.

I stop my chuckling by biting my bottom lip, and scraping it through my teeth as I turn back to them. Sheriff’s stopped avoiding Docs gaze now and is looking at me with him like they’ve won- like together they can ward me off- Oh, ho, ho, though. These two think they’re so clever and victorious. But they haven’t gotten out of this. No, no. I’m determined; I’ll get one of them to dance with me tonight, even if it takes begging!

“You’re right.” I admit, then lean closer into the table pleadingly. “But I don’t want to dance with Mater, I want you two! Come onnnn,” I whine, looking as pleadingly as possible to them.

Doc sets me with a firm, straight lipped look. “And you’ll continue to want me.”

Well, that’s that then.

I turn from him, to Sheriff. When Doc’s mind is set, he usually will never change it. Sheriff, though… he’s a bit more lenient. A softie. A sweetheart. That’s one of the things I really love about him, in contrast to what I really love about Doc; his cleverness, his sternness. Unbelievably sexy qualities.

And I’m right, too. The Sheriff’s looking at me a with worried frown under that moustache and thoughtful deep, dark blue eyes. Oh lord, these men and their blue eyes. They had me my first day here in Radiator Springs.  

I offer my hand across the table to him, and up the ante with my cute pleading look, which I hadn’t even known was possible. I do so by adding a little pout, and it does the trick. Sheriff heaves a great sigh and drops his large hand into mine, getting out of his chair. He rolls his eyes. “Hot damn… “He mutters something about the lord saving him, as I get up from my seat with the biggest beam on my face and springing into place next to him like a slightly overexcited puppy, before returning his gaze to me. “Remember what I said, I’m not as springy as I once was. And, I was never a very good dancer in the first place, so- “

“Let’s go!” Now that I’ve got him up, I’m not about stand here and listen to him talk himself out of this again, so I take us off to a spot on the floor. When I turn back to him and let go of his hand, I flash him a bright grin and think out loud in anticipation as the song ends and we wait for the next one to play. “Besides, the point of this is not to look good, it’s to have fun! Wanna have fun with me, Sheriff?” Okay, so I might have gone a little far with that last comment as the poor, sweet man goes a little pink, but I pretend not to notice that and just listen out for the first few beats of the next song. Before I can make the first move and pick up his hands again, as the song’s a bit boppy and perfect for twirling, he takes up mine first and then, before I know it he’s dancing with me. It’s so much fun!, he’s not half bad at dancing like he let on- there’s a little bit of funk and we slip out of time every now and then but that just makes us laugh. And he twirls me!! He twirls me!!! I’m also starting to think he was just being modest, with all that ‘I’m not as springy as I once was’, crap. Sheriff’s in shape! We’ve been dancing for the past 8 songs and he has not once needed a break or looked like he would be needing one any time soon.

It’s so much fun that I nearly forget to want a drink, or a break myself. The music is so hillbilly it’s fun, the laughter is elating, and the company is addictive. Every time a song ends, he’ll dip me and I’m not afraid that he’ll drop me; he’s strong, and his grip on me is firm. I laugh quite a bit when he does that, and when I get to twirl, and at some point he throws his hat off to Doc, and I’m surprised there’s still a Ford-Pines-Tom-Sellick-level head of hair there. Man, does this place know how to grow ‘em…

We go on like this for a few more songs, until he reminds me to get a drink and a rest for a moment and see how Doc is doing. “Hey Doc, I don’t think you should be worried about Sheriffs health, he’s fitter than me!” I exclaim elatedly as I collapse back into my seat beside him, exasperated but not really. Tired, yes, but annoyed, not at all.

“Hmmm,”

“Still don’t wanna get a dance in before the night’s over Doc? It really is fun!” Sheriff pours us both some water from the jug Doc ordered for us, laughing a bit because of the left-over endorphins, and I nod along intently.

“Yes, the offer’s still on the table until the last song ends. So, keep that in mind.”

“Sure.”

I giggle, widening my eyes exasperatedly at Sheriff over my cup as I take a sip, before Doc starts up a conversation about Chick’s latest Lightning slander in the news.  

6 songs later, and the night’s about to end, sadly. I watch, quietly and honestly tired, as Ramone goes up to Red and requests a certain song, quietly. I guess it’s something special between him and Flow, but as the slow song starts to play, Sally and Lightning dance too- and I’m actually perfectly content and happy in just sitting by and watching, when a shift beside me catches my attention and I look to see Doc getting off his stool and stretching his back. “Ah… this is much more my speed. Y/N?” He raises his hand in front of my face without looking back from the dance floor, and I raise an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“You said the offer to dance was on the table until the last song. I believe this- is the last song.” A slow grin spreads across my face, and I cautiously, tiredly hop off my own stool, taking his hand in the process.

“Sure is!”

“Now, Doc, I’d’a thought you’d be up for something faster!” The Sheriff teases after us, with laughing eyes as he sits comfortably still in his seat.

A tiny smile graces Doc’s face, making me feel squirmy like it always does. “Yes, but my physical ability extends only to the minimum of what a driver’s required to be. Dear, now shall we?”

“Mhm, yeah, we shall!” I agree, grinning cheekily at him and waiving quickly to the Sheriff as Doc walks me onto the floor and swings me around to face him. The song, slow and easy, plays on around us as he fixes his hands carefully on the okay zone around my waist and mine find his shoulders. As we sway around the floor, I wonder; Will I ever get to do this with them as my men? Go out dancing as a date?.. Will these two ever realise how much I really like them?

When Doc grins again I wonder, if he actually already does know.

[pomplalamoose]

hii if its ok do you think you could write some headcanons for luke and a mute reader? :))

Hell yeah anon, it's absolutely more than okay! I adore your ask and I'm glad I managed to finish it in time to post today🫶🏻

May the Fourth be with you <33

🩵 patience and understanding 

• as the loving and open-minded person he is, Luke will always do his best to be patient and understanding, no matter the way you choose to communicate 

• during ANH and ESB he may find himself struggling with the first aspect (especially if he has a crush on you), though it's never your fault

• he's just so excited, so nervous, whenever he dares to approach you, it takes him a few moments until he's calm enough to focus on what you're saying 

• this delay, and may it only be short, frustrates him more than he cares to admit and more often than not leaves him a little embarrassed

• what ultimately counts though is that you can truly take your time around him without ever feeling pressured in any way

• he doesn't mind waiting if it takes you a little longer to form your sentences

🩵 respect 

• Luke absolutely respects your preferred way of communication 

• whether it is through writing, sign language, texting or using any other form of assistive technology, he puts in a lot of effort to keep up with you and to make sure anything you may need is available 

• he never wants for you to be limited by circumstances or feeling like you have to hold back just because he might not be able to fully grasp what you're trying to say otherwise 

🩵 active listening 

• he knows well what it's like to be ignored or not taken seriously so you can be a hundred percent sure that Luke will pay you his unwavering, full attention whenever you wish to share your thoughts, feelings, opinions, or just a stupid little joke 

• his eyes will be glued to you as he makes the greatest effort to understand and to engage and will be so unhappy if he doesn't catch on to what you're trying to bring across fast enough

• when he does, however, ANH Luke sometimes forgets you're not deaf (or alternatively if you are, can read lips), and, in the heat of the moment responds enthusiastically by signaling his opinions back to you even though you'd very well be able to understand him talk

• (not that he's particularly good at it in the beginning; big nods and lots of thumbs up are his best friends)

🩵 support and education 

• from his own experiences Luke knows how important the support and acceptance of friends and people close to you are

• thus he really wants for you to have an environment in which you can express yourself however you want to or can, without ever feeling afraid of judgement or ridicule 

• accordingly he's always more than happy to educate others about barriers in communication and on how to respectfully interact with a mute person (and specifically you if it's something you're comfortable with)

• he's your biggest fan and always focuses on your unique qualities rather than your "limitations"

🩵 encouragement

• because Luke tries his best to create a supportive environment for you, he's also very big on encouraging you to participate in conversations and other social interactions 

• not only because he really likes having you by his side whenever it's possible but also because he loves showing you off 

• he's just so proud of you, adores you so much, and wants everyone to see as well 

• after all how could he ever be responsible for making his friends miss the opportunity to get to know and cherish you as much as he does?

• should you happen to feel overwhelmed, anxious or any other kind of discomfort though, he's by your side in an instant, ready to advocate for you or to see to your needs if necessary 

• (if it helps this is also something you can specifically ask him to do before going out and he'll make an effort to continously check in with you during the event)

🩵 boundaries and celebration 

• despite this eagerness however, Luke of course respects your boundaries, never meaning to pressure you into communicating/socializing/putting yourself out there when you're clearly not in the right headspace, feel uncomfortable doing so or are simply not having the best day

• to him it's just important that you know how proud he is of you no matter what, that he recognizes and celebrates your strengths and abilities on a bad day just as much as on a good one 

🩵 creativity 

• Luke is curious and eager to explore by nature and you'd have a really fun time together finding new alternative ways in which to communicate with each other

• whether it is through visual aids or gestures, he's invested in learning more and may even have ideas to create a completely different communication method, just for the two of you 

• he really likes the idea of specific small gestures, gazes or movements carrying a meaning for only him and you

• (it's not only very romantic but also super useful on literally every kind of mission)

• once he is confident in his abilities to use the Force for communication, he may introduce you to it too

• even better if you happen to be Force sensitive as well!

🩵 no conditions 

• ultimately being loved by Luke (it doesn't matter whether it's platonic or romantic) means to be offered his unconditional loyalty and support 

• he embraces you for who you are and stands by your side through thick and thin