Green Witch From The Woods

Aneta (she/her). misguided ghost, introvert, scribble writer, infj, feminist. in her 30s / [+18]

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

✨ MASTERLIST ✨

Welcome to my space! Thank you for choosing to spend your time here and read my scribbles. I try to tag my stories appropriately (smut, angst, fluff, 18+), so feel free to choose whatever suits you. Remember, I’m only human—I’m still learning and I make mistakes, just like all of us—so please be understanding. Thank you for being here.

💜 Pedro Pascal characters

💙 Ryan Gosling characters

I’m a full-time working mom and a student. My time is limited, so I may not write regularly. Writing is my hobby, but sometimes life has other priorities… Also, English isn't my first language. Thank you for your understanding. ❤️

[sentrysvoid]

Spider-Man: Brand New Day dir. Destin Daniel Cretton | 2026

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

✨ a friendly reminder ✨

this week looked like this…

✤ a good advice. l Jacob Palmer x Reader from how we came back 🕊️ [masterlist]

✤ imagine this…what „having a crush” means Ryland Grace x Reader

✤ imagine this...five minutes Driver x Reader

✤ love and fear. l Lars Lindstrom x Reader from Gentle Monday 🤍

✤ i notice you. l Driver x Reader PART 3

thank you ❤️

[jakubrozalski]

“Mermaid of Warsaw”

Painting commemorating the 75th anniversary of the Warsaw Uprising (01.08.1944) and all the brave men and women who fought for their freedom and dignity in it.

work process: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/nQbE9E

[harebrainedhare]

cooking up love (Ryland Grace x reader)

it’s your first anniversary, and Ryland wants it to be perfect. So he makes breakfast for the first time.

(1.8k words, no use of y/n, established relationship, no Astrophage AU, super cozy fluff)

Inspired by @pensationalwriting’s post. simply put I would wife this man up so fast.

————————————————————————

One thing Ryland knew for sure was that he hated cooking. 

Ever since he was a kid, he had burnt every single meal he has ever attempted to make. From boxed macaroni and cheese to toast, if you can name it, he’s tried and failed to make it.

Yes, even oven baked pizzas. That was one you never let go.

But when it came to your anniversary—the first one Ryland has ever had with someone— things were different. He knew he had to do something special. Since you were the one always cooking or baking in the shared kitchen of your apartment, he thought he’d return the favor.

He woke up early before you did, reluctantly untangling from your form and sneaking into the kitchen.

He’d researched everything before you got up, watched at least 3 YouTube videos on different breakfasts before settling on pancakes.

But you? You woke up colder than usual.

The familiar warmth of Ryland pressed to your spine was missing, though you still were tucked into the blankets like a little kid. You frowned, and with your eyes still closed you turned and patted the spot where he normally slept. 

The sheets were still warm under your touch.

You sat up, blinking blearily in the morning light, staring perplexed at the empty space in your bed. The alarm signaling your wake up time for work blared next to you, but you were too busy puzzling over his absence to turn it off just yet.

Never in your one year of dating Ryland had he ever left you in the morning.

In fact, he had told you before that morning cuddles were his favorite.

“I swear,” He mumbled the other day, before swallowing the mouthful of the omelette you had made him. “My favorite part of the day is waking up right next to you. You’re so cozy and warm it makes me never want to go to work.” 

“Ryland.” You said with a smile that made your cheeks hurt.

“What? It’s true.” He smiled right back at you. “You’ve gotta be the most cuddly person I’ve ever met.”

“Ryland.”

“Oh come on, honey,” Ryland grinned, leaning his chin on his hand. “I’m just saying. The second best part is squishing you at night. I swear you could get a job as a professional cuddler.”

So when you woke up without his hand splayed over your stomach or lower back, it was no wonder why you were confused.

You turned off the alarm and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. His morning sweater was gone from where it hung on the closet door, so he didn’t get kidnapped or anything.

Kidnapped? Really? What were you thinking?

You were startled out of your thoughts by a loud clang! and a muffled “Oh, shoot,” from down the hall. 

That answered your question. You followed the noise into the kitchen, bracing yourself for a mess. Ryland in the kitchen, unsupervised, was definitely a recipe for disaster.

But what you saw surprised you.

Standing there by the stove, humming along to the soft song playing on the radio was your boyfriend. He was wearing your apron, along with the sweater he always wore in the mornings before work. His plaid pajama pants skimmed the floor as he reached into the fridge for the gallon of milk. The pants that you had bought him for his birthday, the ones that he insisted on keeping even though they were the wrong size because you picked them.

Ryland was mixing a bowl of something, staring intently down at your recipe book like he was studying a new microbe. He was trying so hard, and the sight was so endearing, so domestic that it made your chest feel warm and light.

You walked up behind him, mindful of the bowl, and slid your arms around his waist.

“Look at you go,” You said, a smile spreading on your face. “I should tell Gordon Ramsey that he has some competition.”

“Good morning to you too,” He said, his face lighting up as he caught your eye over his shoulder. “Go on, sit down. I’ve got breakfast this morning.” He reached down and squeezed your hand, and you reluctantly pulled back.

“I can see that.” You responded, settling into the chair by the kitchen island. “Is there a reason for this wonderful breakfast?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me,” He chuckled, mixing the batter in the bowl. “You know it’s our anniversary, and you deserve a nice breakfast.”

You sat quietly for a minute or two, just watching him make breakfast. This was one of your favorite sides of Ryland, when he’s completely focused and his brows are slightly crinkled over his eyes. When his hands work quickly and efficiently over whatever project he’s concentrating on, and his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth.

Ryland was too busy to notice you staring.

“Anything I can help with?” You offered. He hummed in response.

“Yeah,” He said, carefully pouring the batter into the pan. “If you want, you can get the chocolate chips out of the fridge?”

“You’re really going for it,” You said as you slid off the stool and retrieved the chocolate chips from the fridge. You handed the bag to him, his fingers brushing yours against the plastic. The smell of pancakes and butter spread through the air as the mix sizzled in the pan.

“Of course,” he nodded, flipping the pancake with a precision he usually saved for his labs in college. He sprinkled some into the batter, and you leaned over to steal a handful from his palm.

“Hey, hey,” He protested, and you giggled as you tossed a few into your mouth. He caught your wrist and made you drop the remaining chocolate chips back into his waiting hand. “Be patient, you little thief.” He said as he pulled your hand up, and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. 

“Ugh,” You complained, hopping up onto the counter next to the stove. “Fine,” 

He hummed, leaving the pancake for a moment to step between your thighs. His hands spread over your legs as he looked at your sleepy expression through his glasses. “Don’t pout, you menace.” He smiled, pressing a warm kiss to your lips before turning back to his cooking. “It’ll be worth the wait, honey, I promise.”

Ryland moved the pancake from the pan onto a plate, then cut a small piece off with a fork. “Here,” He fed you a bite of pancake carefully. It was something he always did with you, and he never stopped even when you called it cheesy.

You took the bite of the pancake. It was…surprisingly good. Not overcooked, and definitely not doughy or burnt, with the perfect amount of chocolate. That was a new record for Ryland.

“So?” He looked at you expectantly in that nervous, excited way of his. “How is it?”

“It’s good,” You said, smiling as you caught the satisfaction in his eyes. “Really good.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” You talked around another forkful of breakfast.

“Really really?” He asked, and when you nodded, he let out a giddy laugh. “Oh, thank god. I thought I used way too much milk. I mean, is pancake mix supposed to be that runny? It was horrifying, honestly,” He shook his head in disbelief, watching you with that adoring look on his face as he untied the apron from around his waist. 

“Pancakes are horrifying to make no matter how many times you do it,” You said as he hung the apron on its hook. You swung your legs as you ate your pancake right there on the counter.

When you finished it, he leaned over with his hands planted on the counter on each side of your hips. 

“You’ve got chocolate, right there,” He said as your tongue swiped out to reach it, only to miss it completely. “No, nope. Stop, stop, I’ll get it.” He chuckled, licking his thumb and smudging the corner of your mouth. “There,” he muttered. 

Still cupping the side of your face, he leaned in and kissed you softly. You tasted the chocolate from the pancakes on his warm lips. His kisses never failed to make you feel breathless, even after a year’s worth of them.

“Happy anniversary, honey,” Ryland whispered against your lips before he kissed you again, his hands sliding to your waist. The warmth of his large palms spread through your skin from where they rested on your hips.

“Happy anniversary Ryland.” You whispered back between kisses, your hands sliding into his hair and lightly scratching his scalp in the way you knew he loved. That was confirmed by the content sound that came unbidden from his throat.

“Don’t do that to me,” He let out a breathy laugh, his forehead pressed against yours. When you opened your eyes, you could see that his glasses had fogged up a bit. “You know that’s…you’re a menace, honey.” 

“Well,” You said, a smile spreading on your lips too. “You love it.”

“I do.” He admitted, chuckling again. “I love it, and I love you.” Ryland then started peppering kisses all over your face. You giggled, letting him continue the onslaught of kisses. A light kiss on your forehead, another on the tip of your nose, one on each cheek. You closed your eyes and preened under the attention, before he finally landed on your lips again.

“I love you too,” You grinned so hard your cheeks hurt. “But I do have to work today, Ryland.” 

“Oh no you don’t,” He said, tugging you into his arms. He slid his hands under your thighs and started to carry you back into the bedroom. “You’re not leaving me today. Nope. I’m not allowing it.”

“Ryland,” You protested weakly as he gently set you down on the mattress. 

“What? Are you coming down with something?” He gasped, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Oh, no. You’ve been diagnosed with loving-Ryland-itis. Very serious.” He grinned, climbing into bed next to you. “Don’t worry, I’ll call your office and tell them you can’t make it in.”

“Ryland,” You protested again, before he pulled you into his arms. 

“Shh,” He mumbled, kissing the top of your forehead as he pulled the covers over both of you. “Doctor’s orders.”

“You aren’t that kind of doctor,” You grinned against his neck as he sighed dramatically.

“It still counts.” He said, slipping his hand under your pajama shirt to spread it over your lower back. He rubbed your back slowly in that familiar soothing rhythm, and you felt yourself melt against him. 

“That’s what I thought,” He whispered, humming in satisfaction as he relaxed too. “Told you this was my favorite part.”

[betweenthosetears]

Salt air era again 💕

[isprinklesunshine]

It’s timeeeee

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

how we came back 🕊️

a good advice. l Jacob Palmer

[the one where we fix what's broken]

Jacob Palmer [Crazy, stupid, love.] x Reader

warnings : friends with unnamed feelings; a date that could end badly; poor self-esteem; unfortunate words; tears ; giving second chances ; honesty ;

note : He wanted to protect you, but instead he shattered the way you saw yourself.

a/n :first part is here a good advice. l Jacob Palmer [Crazy, stupid, love] x Reader

[Ryan Gosling masterlist][main masterlist][how we fell apart series][how we came back series]

Five days. Five days of silence that somehow felt louder than anything you'd ever experienced. Every word spoken between the two of you that night still weighed heavily on your chest, making it impossible to function, impossible to think about anything else.

Jacob had texted you. Twice. Both times, you'd deleted his messages without reading them. Not because you didn't want to know what he'd written, but because you knew yourself well enough to understand that opening even one of those messages would unlock the door you'd spent five days desperately trying to keep shut. And behind that door…was him. The man who had hurt you so effortlessly. So deeply.

Running on autopilot, you somehow survived until Friday. Each day had been harder than the last, but the masks you wore fooled everyone around you. They kept people from asking uncomfortable questions. From noticing that something inside you had cracked. You just wanted the day to be over. You wanted to disappear into your apartment, lock the door behind you, and let the rest of the world exist without you for a while.

Your grip tightened around your car keys as you crossed the parking lot with quick, determined steps. Then a familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"Hey."

You froze. Your body recognized him before your mind had the chance to. Slowly, you turned around. Jacob stood a few parking spaces away from your car, both hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. And for the first time since you'd met him, he looked different. Smaller and uncertain. 

You looked at him for a moment before turning back toward your car. "I don't think there's anything left that needs to be said."

"I do." His voice wasn't loud. A second later, you heard his footsteps following behind you. "Please."

You stopped beside your car, his reflection appeared in the driver's side window. Closing your eyes, you felt exhaustion settle over every inch of your body. Exhaustion from this situation, from replaying that conversation over and over in your head, as though it wasn't already painful enough. You rubbed your temple and let out a tired sigh.

"What do you want, Jacob?"

"To apologize." He swallowed. "I really screwed this up."

He tried to smile, but the corners of his mouth barely moved. Somewhere behind you, coworkers laughed as they walked toward their own cars, conversations blending into the warm evening air. Life kept moving. Only between the two of you had time decided to stop.

"Listen..." Jacob began. He didn't move any closer. He didn't dare. "I'm not asking you to forgive me. I just... I want to explain."

You rolled your keys between your fingers. "Is there anything left you want to tell me?" you asked quietly. "I thought I already knew exactly what you think of me."

Jacob's face fell.

“I've had a lot of time to think about it these past few days. You don't have to explain anything." You shook your head. "You know what? You don't even have to feel obligated to talk to me."

He shook his head immediately. "You heard the worst possible version of what I was trying to say."

A quiet, bitter laugh escaped you. "And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"No." He looked down for a second. "It makes it worse. Because I'm the one who did this to you."

You stared at him for a long moment. Part of you wanted to hear him out, the other part wanted him to disappear. Wanted those blue eyes to stop looking at you so intensely, as though they could see straight through every wall you'd built. See you exposed, emotional, completely defenseless in front of him.

You took a slow breath. "So?" You gave a small shrug. "If you want to explain… I'm listening."

Jacob nodded. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. As though the words had suddenly abandoned him. He tried again. Nothing. Finally, he let out a disbelieving laugh at himself and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I've been preparing for this conversation for five days." A humorless smile tugged at his lips. "I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to say… But... I don't."

You looked at him without any expression. "That's not my problem."

"No." He nodded once. "It isn't. I made it yours."

Silence settled between you again. You lowered your eyes for a moment, unable to withstand his gaze much longer. Another second, and he'd see the tears threatening to spill over.

"I didn't know Daniel wanted to ask you out," he said quietly. "If I had... I would've talked him out of it."

"Oh." Your jaw tightened. "Great."

"But that's not what you think it is. It never was." His voice cracked almost imperceptibly. "You have to believe me."

You looked up. The moment your eyes met his, Jacob caught something he'd never seen there before. Anger, but beneath it, hurt. The kind that came from trusting someone completely.

"No, Jacob." Your voice was calm, but it carried every ounce of exhaustion you'd been hiding. "I don't have to believe you anymore. I trusted you. You were the one person whose opinion actually mattered to me. God... I told you everything."

Jacob closed his eyes.

"And you..." Your voice began to tremble. “You told some guy how to get me. And then you decided I wasn't good enough after all... so you tried to take it back."

He opened his mouth to answer, but you lifted a hand ever so slightly. Not to stop him, just to keep yourself from falling apart.

"I was actually excited about that date." Your eyes drifted somewhere past him. "I wore that pretty dress. I did my makeup. And then..." A tear finally escaped, tracing a warm line down your cheek, you wiped it away almost immediately.  "When I looked in the mirror do you know what I saw? A fraud. Someone pathetic enough to believe that maybe..." Your voice broke. "Maybe someone could actually find her interesting. Maybe even pretty enough to ask out. Because..." You let out a hollow laugh. "What was it you said?" Your eyes met his one more time. "I fall for every smile someone gives me."

Jacob's lips parted. No words came.

"I canceled the date.” Another tear rolled down your cheek. "Not because I didn't want to go. I just…couldn't believe anyone would actually want me." 

Jacob looked away. He nodded once. A small, defeated movement. When he finally looked back at you, his eyes glistened.

"I did that." His voice was barely above a whisper. "And I've never hated myself more than I do right now."

You didn't answer. You'd said everything you had left. Now it was his turn. He took a slow breath.

"You know..." He looked down at the pavement. "I've spent the last five days trying to figure out when all of this started."

His hands slipped back into his pockets, almost like he was afraid they'd reach for yours on their own.

"I thought it started when Daniel told me..." He stopped himself. "It doesn't matter. It wasn't then. It started months ago."

Your brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

A quiet laugh escaped him. "The first time I realized I was in trouble...was the night you fell asleep on my couch. You'd had a horrible week. You were exhausted." The corners of his mouth lifted just enough to soften his face. "We ordered takeout. We were supposed to watch a movie. And you were out before the opening credits. You don't remember?"

You searched your memory. "I woke up covered with a blanket."

Jacob nodded. "Yeah. And I spent ten minutes standing there trying to decide whether kissing you while you were asleep would really be such a terrible idea." A blush crept across his face. "Yeah. I knew I was in trouble. And it scared the hell out of me."

"What?"

"Because I knew what would happen if you said no." He shrugged lightly. "I've been rejected before. It never mattered. I never took it personally. But you..." His voice softened. "You mattered. I never had to impress you. You never made me feel like I wasn't enough." His eyes never left yours. "You were the one person I could just... stop with. For the first time in a long time, I didn't have to perform. I could just be. And that terrified me."

He took a careful step closer. You were too overwhelmed by his words to even notice.

"So I convinced myself it would be better if we stayed friends. But then Daniel showed up..." He grimaced. "He wanted a moment with you. And you deserve someone who appreciates every single day they get with you."

You folded your arms across your chest and drew in a slow breath. "You've always been good with words..." you said quietly.

Jacob let out a soft, almost breathless laugh. "Funny thing is..." He shook his head. "I lose every single one of them when I'm talking to you. They always disappear. Because I never looked at you like you weren't enough."

His expression softened.

"If anything… I kept wondering what someone like you could possibly see in someone like me."

You blinked quickly, fighting back another wave of tears. Jacob continued before you could respond.

"I was afraid you'd see me as the guy who's all style and no substance. The guy who flirts. The guy who always knows the right thing to say. The guy who's just having fun." A small, self-deprecating smile crossed his face. "Even though you never once made me feel like that's all I was."

He looked away for only a second. "I kept thinking… What if one day you tell me you'd never be able to love someone like me? That it was impossible."

Silence settled between you once again. You stared at Jacob as though you were seeing him for the first time. Your mind had gone completely blank. Your heart pounded so hard against your ribs it was a miracle he couldn't hear it. When you finally found your voice, it barely came out above a whisper.

"I'm supposed to believe all of this?"

Jacob gave a helpless shrug. "I wouldn't believe me either." A faint smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. "But… If all I wanted was your forgiveness would I really be standing here telling you all this?" 

You couldn't stop the dry laugh that escaped you. "That would be a spectacularly bad strategy."

He huffed out a quiet laugh. "Right." He took another cautious step toward you. "Listen… I'm not expecting you to forgive me today. Or next week. I want to earn it."

Your eyes searched his. "You made me feel so...small."

His face crumpled. "I'm sorry. I never wanted to be the man who made you question who you are. I wish… I wish you could see yourself the way I see you." His eyes held yours with complete honesty. "Because all I see is someone I don't deserve, because I'm just an idiot."

For the first time in days a tiny smile found its way onto your lips. It was small and fragile. Like the first ray of sunlight breaking through heavy storm clouds. Jacob saw it instantly.

"There she is." His own smile appeared in response. "Can I take that as a good sign?"

You wiped the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand. Your shoulders slowly relaxed. The tight knot that had lived inside your chest for days finally loosened. Not completely. The pain was still there, but it no longer felt impossible to breathe.

"Listen..." you began softly. "I'm still hurt."

Jacob nodded without looking away. "I know. And I don't expect a few words to fix that."

There wasn't a trace of defensiveness in his voice. Only honesty.

You nodded once. "Good. Because things aren't going back to the way they were."

He waited. Didn't interrupt.

"If this is ever going to work you have to promise me something."

"Anything."

"When things get hard you don't run. Don't try to protect me from the truth, even if it's ugly. And don't make decisions for me."

His answer came without hesitation. "I can do that."

You held his gaze for another moment. "Good." A tiny smile returned. "Because… I really missed you."

For the first time since he'd called your name Jacob smiled without restraint. His shoulders sagged with relief. "God… I missed you too. Every single day. It's crazy."

"A little." You looked down at the keys still resting in your hand, then at your car. "I should probably go."

"Right."

You nodded once. "I'll call."

"I'll be waiting."

"I don't know when."

His smile didn't fade. "I'll still be waiting."

You smiled back. This one came a little easier. You opened the driver's door and placed your bag inside. For a second, you looked at Jacob as though you wanted to say something else.

He spoke first. "Thank you."

You frowned slightly. "For what?"

"For giving me the chance to fix this."

There was nothing manipulative about it, just gratitude. You climbed into the car, and Jacob gently closed the door for you.

"See you around," he said as the engine came to life.

You looked at him through the open window. "See you, Jacob."

And somehow, those three words filled him with something he was afraid to think about, hope. Because you were worth every risk he'd ever tried to avoid. He knew that now, and he also knew that he would take as much time as it took to rebuild everything he'd destroyed.

Because despite everything life was simply better with you in it.

thank you for reading <3

[btwixtr]

𑣲 you were in the pool? - holland march x fem!reader

⤷ holland had to question the mermaids

𑣲 drunk holland , flirty reader , no use of y/n , holland uses "honey" aaaa , he's so easy too

𑣲 1k words

── .✦

It was a wonder how you were still up and swimming on your second shift of the night. You were running on just a couple of drinks and thankfully, one of the co-performers had already dived in and signaled that it was time for your break. 

You by the shallows of the pool when something tugged on the tail that swished behind you. Your hand pressed against the tiles for buoyancy as you turned, eyes widening as they fixed on the drunken man tugging on your tail like a lost puppy. 

Your pristine face lit up in surprise, confusion, and then recognition. He opened his mouth to speak, seemingly forgetting that he was under water when he nearly choked on the bubbles that came out instead of words. You gestured for him to follow you with a smile you couldn’t fake, and reached up for the pool deck. You were about to wriggle your way out of the water when a large hand wrapped around the side of your leg, effortlessly easing you out of the pool. 

The man was already at your side, head tilted up to look at you with a dreamy, intoxicated gaze. He looked ridiculous as he practically wrestled himself out of the water, and it was only now that you realized all he had on were his underclothes and a cast around his left arm. You sat on the deck, tail dangling in the pool while he slouched facing you, nervously swaying a foot around in the water beside your fins. 

A smile crept into your face. Your head tilted to the side, exhaustion seeping in as you questioned the man. “Baby, what were you doing in the pool?”

“Do you know Amelia?” He slurred. He paused. “Do I know you? V’seen you before. But on—on land. This is pretty.”

His attention quickly went to the shimmering scales of your mermaid suit, and you watched as he brought his free hand up to where your thigh would be to fidget with the material. You can’t tell if it was the alcohol, or if he knew what he was doing with the way his fingers played with the only layer you had on right now. 

Through heavy-lidded eyes, he looked back up at you without ceasing his movements on your thigh. Your voice was quiet now as his touch seemed to go straight through your mermaid suit and to your skin. “I’m sorry, baby, I don’t know any Amelia. But we do know each other, yeah. I sing for that bar in your neighborhood. You spilled margaritas on me once.”

A little flash of clarity caused him to chuckle embarrassingly as he attempted to blink the memory away, head hanging low. His hand now laid flat on top of your leg, giving it a light squeeze in apology. “I am so, so sorry, honey.”

“Yeah, and you never made it up to me.” You faked a pout, leaning closer to him.

He pulled his head back up to look at you, and it swayed from side to side like it’s too heavy to hold up. He’s hammered. “Yeah? How do you want me to make it up to you?”

You gave him a playful shrug. To stop his head swaying, you reached out and held him by the cheek. Then, while gently caressing him there with your thumb you asked,  “What were you thinking?”

He shrugged. “Go out with me after this? When do you get off? We can, uhh . . .” He trailed off, shrugging again. Then he looked up at you with the most drunken pleading look you’ve ever come across, trying his luck.

“How do I know you’re not trying to kidnap me? I don’t even know your name. Can’t keep calling you ‘baby’, baby.”

“I’m Holland. March.” Holland laughed, a dazed sound as his head fell forward, ceasing the movement on your thigh. You caught him with your hands on the sides of his face, holding him up to look at you. “I like ‘baby’ thou—’N hey! Why—why would I kidnap you? I mean, I could just be wantin’ to take you out to dinner, no? Maybe that was the plan, you wouldn’t know. You know? Guess not, then. Maybe it’s you who wants to kidnap me. Wh—who’s you though?”

You told him your name, and he repeated it like it entranced him. It rolled off his tongue like a sliver of silk and let out another breathy laugh. “Pretty. Like you.” He giggled like it was the silliest thing in the world. 

“Wow,” you said. Despite yourself, you were laughing. He seemed sweet, you thought he was cute, and you hoped he was still like this when sober. “That’s a good one.”

“Mm-hmm,” Holland hummed. “So, what about it? Dinner? Make it up to you? I can assure you my intentions are strictly dishonorable.”

The partygoers around you two grew louder, reminding you of your situation. You leaned in closer. “Look, baby, I need to get this off  ‘cause my shift’s over. Why don’t we get our clothes on, then you come find me after?”

Holland hummed in response, drunkenly nodding. He took your hand in his and caressed the top, feeling the soft skin there. “Change with you?” You couldn’t tell if he was attempting to persuade you or genuinely hopeful. You smiled, shaking your head. 

“No, I said to find me afterwards,” you explained slowly, as if you were speaking to a child. He let out a disappointed, “aw”. “Can’t be undressing with you, baby, we haven’t gotten that dinner yet.”

“Fine.”

“You know where your clothes are?” You asked him. He nodded. “You come here with anyone?” another nod. “Had any water to drink yet?” He didn’t respond. So it’s a no. You chuckled, hitting him on the arm to try and usher him off. “Go put your clothes on and drink some water. Can you do that for me?”

Holland was in awe. He stared up at you, at the woman in front of him that must have been magic. Then he grinned. “Alright. See ya, honey.”

── .✦

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

Imagine this...

warnings: established friendship ; mutual pining ; slow burn ; quiet romance ; emotional intimacy ; soft and protective Driver ; fluff ; no use of Y/N 

Driver [Drive] x Reader

“I give you five minutes when we get there. Anything happens in that five minutes and I'm yours. No matter what. Anything a minute on either side of that and you're on your own. I don't sit in while you're running it down.”

It was a rule. A simple one and professional. Driver had lived by it for years and had never regretted it. Five minutes. Not four and not six. Always five. People came and went, jobs ended, money changed hands, and he never asked questions. He didn't get attached, and he never stayed longer than necessary, that only led to trouble. Until you.

The first time he broke the rule, it happened by accident. He drove you to the library so you could return a book. "I'll only be five minutes," you said before the door closed behind you. But ten minutes passed, and you still hadn't come back. Driver, however, was still there. When you finally walked outside, you were certain the familiar car would be gone. It wasn't.

"I'm sorry," you said sheepishly as you slid back into the passenger seat. "The librarian started telling me about her grandchildren... I didn't have the heart to interrupt her." "It's okay," he replied, starting the engine. "You waited here the whole time?" "Yeah." And that was it. 

Then it happened again and again. The pharmacy. Your workplace. The grocery store. Every time, you expected Driver to leave eventually. Every time, he waited patiently. He never complained, never sighed, never checked the time. The moment you buckled your seatbelt, he started the engine and pulled away as if waiting had never cost him anything at all.

"You know he's been sitting out there for almost an hour?" your coworker said, glancing through the window.  You followed her gaze. The familiar car was parked outside your workplace. "Either that's a stalker, or..." "He's a friend," you answered quickly, though a smile tugged at your lips. Driver had been reading the same newspaper for the last thirty minutes. He'd arrived half an hour before your shift ended and simply...waited. As if he wanted to make sure you wouldn't have to walk home alone.

When you slipped into the passenger seat, you caught the flicker of relief in his eyes. "You know," you said, "you didn't have to wait for me. I could've gotten home on my own." "I don't mind." He started the engine. "You don't like waiting." "I don't." "Then why do you wait for me?" He didn't answer right away. His jaw tightened, you noticed, but his eyes never left the road. Finally, realizing he wasn't getting out of the question, he said quietly, "It doesn't count." "Oh? Why not?" "You ask a lot of questions, you know that?" You chuckled.

Now it was your turn to wait patiently, just like he always did. When the car finally stopped in front of your apartment building, you got your answer. "I made that rule so I wouldn't have to stay. So I wouldn't get involved any more than necessary." His hands slipped from the steering wheel. "But..." He turned to look at you. For a brief moment, his expression was almost unguarded. "You were never a job. You're someone worth waiting for." A smile spread across your face. "You know," you murmured, "that's probably the closest you've ever come to saying, 'I like you.'" The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. "Probably."

You leaned against the headrest, tilting your head as you looked at him. Somehow differently, warmer, softer. "So..." you began. Driver looked at you expectantly. "How long are you going to wait?" This time, the answer came without hesitation. "As long as it takes." And somehow you knew he wasn't lying.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

how we fell apart 🥀

a good advice. l Jacob Palmer

Jacob Palmer [Crazy, stupid, love.] x Reader

warnings : friends with unnamed feelings; a date that could end badly; poor self-esteem; unfortunate words; tears

note : He wanted to protect you, but instead he shattered the way you saw yourself.

[Ryan Gosling masterlist][main masterlist] [how we fell apart series]

"I think you're ready." Jacob finished his coffee and smiled.

The man sitting across from him looked far more confident now than he had a few days earlier, when he'd awkwardly asked if he could join Jacob's table. Jacob didn't make a habit of mentoring strangers, but if someone wanted to learn how to carry themselves with more confidence around women, he didn't mind sharing a few pointers.

Daniel, because that was the man's name, grinned back. "Thanks. You're saving my life."

"No problem. I hope your date goes well."

"Oh." Daniel lifted his eyebrows. "I'm sure it will. You know, she's..." He reached for his phone. "Hang on. Let me show you."

Jacob frowned slightly as Daniel scrolled through his screen. A moment later, he turned the phone toward him.

It was your social media profile.

You were smiling in the photo, a warm, effortless smile. Your eyes sparkled as though you were standing right in front of him instead of existing behind a screen. The wind played with your hair while the setting sun painted the sky behind you in streaks of gold, pink, and orange. Jacob knew that picture, he had taken it himself. He had taken it of you.

"We work together," Daniel explained casually. "I know, she's pretty average, but everyone's got to start with someone easy."

It felt like someone had punched Jacob in the stomach. "So all of this..." he said quietly. "You wanted all this advice just to..."

"Sleep with her?" Daniel shrugged, setting his coffee cup down with a soft clink. "She's nice. That's it. I talked to her a couple of times, helped her when the printer jammed, held the door open. She agreed to go out without much effort, but..." He winked at Jacob as though they shared the same understanding. "We're not trying to be the nice guy here, right?"

"Right," Jacob muttered.

Even as he said it, he wished this entire conversation had never happened.

By the time he reached your apartment building, he immediately noticed the light glowing through your living room window. He didn't even have to think about the way upstairs. For over a year he'd walked those stairs so many times he could probably find your apartment blindfolded.

The door opened almost the moment he knocked. Surprise spread across your face. You hadn't been expecting him.

"Cancel tonight," he blurted without thinking.

You blinked. "It's good to see you too, Jacob." You tilted your head. "What exactly are we talking about?"

"Your date." He stepped inside, and instinctively you moved aside before closing the door behind him. "Cancel it."

You folded your arms across your chest as you followed him into the living room.

"And why would I do that?"

Through the half-open bedroom door, Jacob spotted the dress lying neatly across your bed. The one you were planning to wear. You looked beautiful in it. He knew because he'd been standing beside you when you bought it. He'd been the one who told you so. It was the perfect dress for a date. Just not with him.

"He's not good enough," Jacob said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Just trust me."

"You don't even know him."

"I know enough."

"You've never even met him."

Jacob looked away instead of answering. That was all the confirmation you needed. You'd known him long enough to recognize exactly what had happened. Men asked Jacob Palmer for advice all the time. What shirt to wear, how to approach a woman, how to stop being shy, how to make sure there'd be a second date. You'd overheard those conversations before. You just never imagined one of Jacob Palmer's lessons would be used on you.

"You have..." Your voice faltered. "You talked to Daniel?"

He nodded once. "He asked for advice. I didn't know it was you."

"Oh."

Your voice sounded strangely empty. Jacob would have given anything to know what was going through your mind. Or maybe he wouldn't.

"So now you know you can't go," he said.

You finally looked back at him. "You don't get to decide that, Jacob."

"I'm trying to protect you."

"I don't need protecting."

"You don't even know what kind of guy he is."

"And neither do you." Your voice sharpened. "He's kind. He's polite. He helped me when…"

"When your printer jammed." Jacob rolled his eyes. "Yeah. He told me."

Silence settled between you. Heavy and uncomfortable. You had known Jacob for a long time. He was your friend, because you had never been his type. You'd seen the women who surrounded him.Women who looked like millions of dollars. Beautiful and elegant. Whenever you happened to stand beside him, you disappeared into the background. This was your life, and you accepted it.

Eventually, you shook your head. "I think I get it now."

Jacob frowned. "Get what?"

"You think I'm going to embarrass myself."

"What?"

"You helped him because you assumed he'd end up with someone..." Your laugh was painfully hollow. "...prettier."

His entire expression changed. "Don't."

But you couldn't stop. Not now. "Then you realized it was just me." Your voice cracked. "And suddenly I'm not good enough."

Jacob raised a hand. His voice turned hard. "That is not what I said. Do you honestly think that's what I meant?"

You shrugged. Your eyes shimmered with tears. "What else am I supposed to think?"

His frustration finally exploded. "For God's sake, look at yourself."

You flinched. You had never heard that tone from him before.

"You fall for every smile someone gives you. You trust every guy who's decent to you for five minutes." His jaw clenched. "That's your problem."

The words hit harder than a slap ever could. Your eyes filled instantly, your lips parted.

"Wow."

Jacob's anger disappeared the second he saw the tears spilling down your cheeks. "No..."

"You know..." Your voice trembled despite your best effort to steady it. "I've always wondered what you really thought of me."

He took a step closer. "You don't mean that..."

"I think I finally know."

You drew a shaky breath, your hands settling on your hips. Suddenly you felt small. Cheap. Pathetic.

"You spend your time with women who look like they walked off magazine covers." Tears streamed freely down your face now. "I always knew I wasn't one of them."

Jacob opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"So when you tell me I should stay away from someone..." You swallowed hard. "All you're doing is confirming everything I've always been afraid of."

He already dreaded whatever came next.

"You think I'm beneath him." Your voice broke completely. "Beneath his standards. Beneath everyone else's." Another tear rolled down your cheek. "Thanks for finally saying it."

When Jacob finally found his voice, he barely recognized it. "That's not what I said."

"You did." You wiped at your cheeks with trembling hands. "For the first time, you were just honest with me, Jacob."

He instinctively reached for your hand, but you stepped back. In that moment you felt like a stranger, even though he knew you better than almost anyone. He had spent so long refusing to admit, to you, and to himself, how much you meant to him.

But now… God. He felt it in every part of him.

"Please leave, Jacob." Your voice was barely above a whisper.

This time, he didn't have the courage to argue. As the apartment door closed behind him, it felt as though someone had reached into his chest and torn away a piece of his heart. He felt sick. After everything that had been said. After your tears. He was leaving behind the person who had always been kind to him, patient, understanding. The person who laughed at his terrible jokes. Who spent countless evenings with him talking for hours or sharing pizza on the couch while watching terrible movies.

He was leaving behind the woman who mattered more to him than he had ever allowed himself to admit… And because of him she was crying. For the first time in his life, Jacob Palmer had absolutely no idea how to fix it.

thank you for reading <3

[nosensecara]

COMFORTING YOU AFTER A BAD DAY, ryland grace

One look at your face when you walked through the front door would be enough for Ryland to tell something was wrong. He’d immediately forget whatever he’d been doing to meet you halfway, automatically opening his arms to pull you into the gentlest embrace. “Hey… hey, what’s wrong, dove?” he’d ask quietly. “What happened?”

He wouldn’t rush you to answer, instead he’d simply hold you, rubbing slow circles on your back while pressing soft kisses into your hair and temple. The silence didn’t feel like pressure, it was comforting, and despite how socially clumsy Ryland could be, he knew your tells well enough by now.

“C’mon,” he’d murmur after a while. “Let’s sit down.”

He would gently guide you to sit on the couch, still with an arm around your shoulders, and he’d patiently wait until you could gather your words and talk to him if you wanted to. While you talked, he’d listen without interrupting, just trailing his hands lightly over your arms, tracing comforting patterns absentmindedly over your skin. “It’s okay, dove… I’m here.”

He wouldn’t let you apologize for crying, looking almost offended if you did. He’d remain right beside you if you needed anything, giving your hands soft pecks or reassuring squeezes, until the weight eased off your body.

At night, Ryland would slip into bed behind you, wrapping an arm securely around your waist and pulling you close until there was no space between your back and his chest. He’d press one last sleepy kiss to your shoulder before letting out a content sigh.

“I’ve got you,” he’d murmur, voice thick with sleep. “Just sleep, sweetheart, we’ll figure everything else tomorrow...”

You’d fall asleep peacefully feeling his warmth around you, and his fingers loosely threaded with yours. He was the only person that could ever make you feel smaller and at the same time the safest.

a/n: hii! I don't know if this is a bit weirdly written honestly, let me know. also I love him so much I needed this for myself

gif from @/dragonsareawesome123

[lights-on-the-ridge]

trying to figure out how to draw again

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

Imagine this...

warnings: established friendship ; mutual pining ; slow burn ; quiet romance ; emotional intimacy ; soft and protective Driver ; fluff ; no use of Y/N 

Driver [Drive] x Reader

“I give you five minutes when we get there. Anything happens in that five minutes and I'm yours. No matter what. Anything a minute on either side of that and you're on your own. I don't sit in while you're running it down.”

It was a rule. A simple one and professional. Driver had lived by it for years and had never regretted it. Five minutes. Not four and not six. Always five. People came and went, jobs ended, money changed hands, and he never asked questions. He didn't get attached, and he never stayed longer than necessary, that only led to trouble. Until you.

The first time he broke the rule, it happened by accident. He drove you to the library so you could return a book. "I'll only be five minutes," you said before the door closed behind you. But ten minutes passed, and you still hadn't come back. Driver, however, was still there. When you finally walked outside, you were certain the familiar car would be gone. It wasn't.

"I'm sorry," you said sheepishly as you slid back into the passenger seat. "The librarian started telling me about her grandchildren... I didn't have the heart to interrupt her." "It's okay," he replied, starting the engine. "You waited here the whole time?" "Yeah." And that was it. 

Then it happened again and again. The pharmacy. Your workplace. The grocery store. Every time, you expected Driver to leave eventually. Every time, he waited patiently. He never complained, never sighed, never checked the time. The moment you buckled your seatbelt, he started the engine and pulled away as if waiting had never cost him anything at all.

"You know he's been sitting out there for almost an hour?" your coworker said, glancing through the window.  You followed her gaze. The familiar car was parked outside your workplace. "Either that's a stalker, or..." "He's a friend," you answered quickly, though a smile tugged at your lips. Driver had been reading the same newspaper for the last thirty minutes. He'd arrived half an hour before your shift ended and simply...waited. As if he wanted to make sure you wouldn't have to walk home alone.

When you slipped into the passenger seat, you caught the flicker of relief in his eyes. "You know," you said, "you didn't have to wait for me. I could've gotten home on my own." "I don't mind." He started the engine. "You don't like waiting." "I don't." "Then why do you wait for me?" He didn't answer right away. His jaw tightened, you noticed, but his eyes never left the road. Finally, realizing he wasn't getting out of the question, he said quietly, "It doesn't count." "Oh? Why not?" "You ask a lot of questions, you know that?" You chuckled.

Now it was your turn to wait patiently, just like he always did. When the car finally stopped in front of your apartment building, you got your answer. "I made that rule so I wouldn't have to stay. So I wouldn't get involved any more than necessary." His hands slipped from the steering wheel. "But..." He turned to look at you. For a brief moment, his expression was almost unguarded. "You were never a job. You're someone worth waiting for." A smile spread across your face. "You know," you murmured, "that's probably the closest you've ever come to saying, 'I like you.'" The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. "Probably."

You leaned against the headrest, tilting your head as you looked at him. Somehow differently, warmer, softer. "So..." you began. Driver looked at you expectantly. "How long are you going to wait?" This time, the answer came without hesitation. "As long as it takes." And somehow you knew he wasn't lying.

[llantodearcangel]

hey! i was wondering if i could get a fic that's like sun/moon with lars, since everyone calls him "Mr. Sunshine"? A reader that's like the moon maybe?

⋆˚₊ 𖤓☽˚.⋆ moonshine, moonshine, shine over me. I won't let you go.

pairing: lars lindstrom x reader

WARNINGS ⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ none!

a/n: I hope you like my take on this, I had so much fun writing it! 💓 sorry for taking so long btw

☾☼ everyone who knew lars knew that he was the sweetest person ever even if he was extremely shy. he liked helping people. there was more than once chance that if he saw anyone struggling with their groceries, he'd help them get them anywhere, no matter how heavy the bags were. mrs. gurner was the biggest witness of this.

☾☼ you weren't like that. you weren't mean, but you also didn't go out of your way to help people like lars did most of the time. you were more of a quiet lurker of society, if you will. the kind of person who, instead of replying to a normal "good morning!" across the street, started walking faster to run away from the situation.

☾☼ you and lars had crossed paths more than once. a small town like this, it was honestly rare that you didn't see each other daily. if the two of you were walking towards the exit of any store at the same time, he'd rush over to open the door for you, even if he was a couple of steps back. or that one time that you needed a nickel to use one of the payphones, he had simply reached into his pocket and took out one, placing it on the metal cover before running off before you two could even exchange a word.

☾☼ today, you were fighting the dark cloud that had settled over your head and was now making your day harder and darker. everything was going sour today, even ridiculous things like your usual life-saving double knot in your shoes was failing you.

you hoped that the pastry you had bought in the bakery downtown would make your day become as sweet as said treat, but apparently, today was fighting for the worst day of your life title because when you stepped into the sidewalk, your shoelaces had slipped out of their knots once again.

you saw the bakery's paper bag slip from your hands and fall on the asphalt before you felt the impact on your knees, leaving you without a sweet treat, with scraped knees and hands, and with a public humiliation that nothing would ever replicate.

"oh. oh no." you heard the smallest and more gentle voice next to you, glove-covered hands hovering over you like they weren't sure as to what to do, even trembling slightly before you felt one of them taking your upper arm to help you up.

you were up on your feet, your eyes finding lars' worried face looking at you. "are you okay?" he asked, his hand dropping from your arm as soon as you were standing

you let out a shaky breath, your hands dusting off the dirt in your pants. "i'm okay." you replied, nodding gently. "thank you, lars."

he nodded once, stiffly, before looking at the paper bag and picking it up, seeing the ruined pastry there.

he looked even more worried, somehow, and then he went into the bakery without saying nothing, leaving you confused in the sidewalk as you watched his figure moving inside. you sighed, not giving it much thought before crouching down and tying your shoelaces for what felt like the fifth time that day.

just as you rose to your full height, he was there, handing you a new paper bag without a word. "oh, no, lars, you don't-" you started, but the second you took the bag, he was gone. you looked down into it, only to find the same pastry you had lost, plus a chocolate one. this made your day a little brighter.

☾☼ it felt like lars had a sixth sense to know when it seemed like the black cloud on your head was getting darker and darker, because now every time that your day had some inconvenience, he was there.

you dropped the apple you wanted to buy on the grocery store? no worries! he was already helping you find a new one because picking that one from the floor seemed disgusting. you needed help carrying something to your car? he was your guy. the wood for your chimney was all burned down already? good thing he liked chopping wood.

he was there. like a guardian angel who's only purpose was to make your life easier.

☾☼ you were the librarian of the town. which was an incredibly boring job, except for the times that the books that people took out helped you discover their secret drama.

like today, that mrs. henry took out a book in child psychology and the most common disorders in children. you weren't surprised. his son was the weirdest kid you had ever come across. good thing that she was dealing with it before the little bastard became a serial killer.

but whenever the job was more boring than normal, you knitted. you even had your materials in a box underneath your desk, a half finished sweater sitting there, waiting for the day that you returned to it.

☾☼ lars stepped into the library one day, with an expression in his face that made you wonder if someone had died or if he was dying in that moment.

"lars. hey. what's up?" you asked once he was close enough, a book cradled against his chest like it was the most important thing ever.

"i- I missed the date..." he replied, putting down the book on your desk and you immediately relaxed.

"that's okay. don't worry." you said, taking the book before grabbing his library card and seeing his fine.

10 bucks for two weeks? it was ridiculous.

you didn't say a thing, taking out your wallet and paying the 10 dollars yourself without saying a thing. "it's all taken care of." you told him, offering a smile that you hoped made him feel better.

he looked at you for a few seconds before he shut his eyes in one of those hard blinks and disappeared through the door again.

the warm feeling in your chest was what made this day better. even when you were ten dollars poorer.

☾☼ that day that you dropped the pastry? yeah. that no longer was the worst day of your life.

your car had broken down. it was 10 pm, and you were stuck on the side of the road with a smoking engine that told you nothing besides "you're fucked" and "you won't eat anything this month."

it was freezing. it was dark. you were tired. you wanted to go home and forget about your car, maybe even set it on fire.

you kicked the wheel, which ended up being worse for you than the vehicle, who still seemed to be mocking you.

you were about to call a towing service that would surely overcharge you when a car stopped behind yours. for a second, you thought that you'd be murdered in the side of the street, and then the doors opened, and lars stepped out of it.

"oh my god, lars." you said, and for a second or two, your impulse was to hug him, but you restrained yourself.

"hi." he said in that shy voice, stepping closer to you and giving you a once over before he stepped in front of your car. he stared at the engine for two seconds, and for an instant, you were sure that he'd fix it.

but then he turned to you, then back to the car. then back to you. "i don't know mechanics..." he said, his fingers drumming against the lifted hood.

you laughed gently and shook your head. "that's okay."

but lars wasn't happy with that because he closed your hood and then pointed to your car. "I'll- I'll drive you home. if you want?" he offered you.

"that would be really nice, lars."

☾☼ you were sitting in his passenger seat now. the drive had been quiet, you two hadn't said a thing, but the radio was turned on in a frank sinatra song.

your eyelids started closing despite your intentions of staying awake, and in a second, his car had lulled you to sleep.

he turned to look at you after a few seconds when he noticed your stillness, "oh," he breathed out, hesitating for a few seconds. should he wake you up? he weighted the options for a whime before he decided against it.

instead, he unwrapped the scarf from his neck with one hand and gently draped it over your curled up body, making sure that you were covered by it.

[mossycliff]

you and lars get a little closer.

lars doesn’t seem to mind it anymore when you touch him. this is so good. this means that he can relax in his own skin and feel the burn in the weaning winter air light up his lungs and singe the hairs on his lip. he can focus on other feelings—like how he’s so desperate daydreaming about what your cheeks feel like in his palms, or how the map of lines under your eyes might mesh with his lips.

it’s so much of a jump—soft pokes on the arm when he’s being a little silly, you stretching out his fingers when they’re gripped together, open, open, open those palms! on bouncy knees so he can say what he’s really thinking a little easier.

it’s new to him, the openness, the sepia, sitting sticky in his stomach. lars thinks he’s gonna—? vomit? scream? beg God to let him live a little longer cause he can’t take the way your skin sticks together in the summer heat? it’s a different kind of good for the first time, and it makes him sick and sour. lars thinks he can’t take it anymore. he wants to live right under your skin just so he knows what he’s feeling isn’t an accident and that he can, in fact, handle it. that it’s not the worst of his past watered down in loneliness. that it’s so good for him—so good that his stomach learns how to settle into something a little less stupid. he can look at you for longer than a few seconds and squeeze his eyes open and shut and open cause the sun’s a little warmer this time.

“honey, you okay?” lars is zoomed in and spaced out all at the same time, trying to suck back in the breaths he’s been puffing over your skin. “we can try again another time.”

“no,” he whispers, too quickly, too quietly, clearing his throat as he speaks. “touch me—?”

it takes so much of you not to kiss him tender. lars takes in your smile, holds it, and stores it for later. it gives him a little boost knowing he’s got something good in store for him.

“i want you to touch me.”

and you do. slowly, lightly across his cheek with the back of your hand, down the sleeves of his acrylic sweater, and finally finding solace in his hands. lars’ hands are big and warm around yours and you squeeze them just enough to bring him to. he gazes down at your junction, and a small smile plays on his lips as he curves toward you.

lars smiles.

you’d have missed it if you weren’t so close.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

Imagine this…

warnings : awkward Ryland Grace ; established friendship ; slow burn ; Rocky being unintentionally invasive ; humor ; Rocky is Rocky

Ryland grace [Project Hail Mary] x Reader

Ryland had been asleep for nearly an hour, and the ship was unusually quiet. No anxious pacing, no bickering with Rocky, no relentless tapping on a keyboard. Just the soft hum of the Hail Mary, you with a mug of tea, and Rocky inside his xenonite sphere. You settled into one of the swivel chairs and looked over at your spider-like friend.

"So," you began, taking a sip of your tea, "what's today's topic?" Rocky shifted on his legs. He loved this part of the day, those rare moments when the two of you could simply talk without Ryland interrupting with incomprehensible human boundaries and restrictions. Rocky always found them deeply unreasonable, and you couldn't help finding his indignation amusing. Sometimes you suspected Ryland thought you enjoyed it a little too much.

Rocky clicked excitedly. "When you and Grace were biologically unconscious..." "When we were asleep," you corrected automatically. "Yes. Several human films include phrase 'having crush.'" You raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" "I watch romantic films while Grace sleeps." You shrugged. "I'm not judging, Rocky. So... what do you want to know?" The Eridian shifted again, clearly excited by the opportunity to ask questions without being interrupted. "I consulted dictionary. I know definition." "You do?" "Yes." "So what's confusing?" "The behavior."

You smiled. "Fair enough." "Humans behave irrationally," Rocky continued. "They observe one another from distance. They increase facial blood flow when specific human approaches. Accidental physical contact increases heart rate. Many, many biological behaviors." "You're not wrong," you admitted. "It does seem... irrational. But what exactly don't you understand?" "The behavior." "Okay." You took another sip of your tea, searching for the right words. "When people have a crush..." you began, "they usually become more aware of that person."

"Define 'aware.'" "They notice little things. What makes that person happy. What kind of tea they like. Whether they're tired. Whether something's bothering them." Rocky remained perfectly still. "And they look for excuses to spend time together." The Eridian didn't move for several long seconds.

Finally he said. "They voluntarily seek proximity." "Yes." "They worry if other human is injured." "Definitely." "They experience happiness when that person laughs." You smiled. "Good observation." "They sometimes become embarrassed for no logical reason." "Yep." "And they may deny condition?" You nodded. "Oh, constantly." "Despite evidence?" "Especially despite evidence."

Rocky gently rocked back and forth on his legs before clicking several times, sounding almost pleased. "I understand." "I'm glad." "Thank you, Female Grace." You laughed quietly. "You're welcome." "I enjoy learning." For some reason, that statement didn't reassure you nearly as much as it probably should have.

The following morning, Ryland wandered into the lab wearing yesterday's T-shirt, glasses slightly crooked, and hair sticking up in at least four different directions. He yawned. "Morning." "Good morning," you replied, glancing up from your tablet. Rocky clicked happily. "Good morning, Grace." Ryland poured himself a mug of coffee. "So..." He took a sip. "what'd I miss while I was unconscious?"

Rocky tapped one of his legs against the inside of his sphere. "Grace." Ryland looked over. "Yeah?" "I believe you have crush." The mug froze halfway to his mouth. "I...What?" "You display numerous indicators." Ryland blinked. "I'm sorry… What?" Rocky continued as though presenting the results of a scientific study. "You seek frequent proximity. You remember preferred beverages. You become distressed when teammate is injured. You display increased happiness after teammate laughs. You voluntarily share food.You also frequently observe teammate when teammate is not observing you."

Silence. The Hail Mary could have exploded around the three of you, and none of you would've noticed. Ryland slowly looked from Rocky to you. "Where is this coming from?" Rocky answered immediately. "Conversation with human teammate." Ryland turned toward you. "You two talked about this?" You bit your lip, already trying not to smile. "We talked about what having a crush means." "I requested educational information," Rocky explained. Ryland pointed helplessly between the two of you. "You used me as a case study?" "I identified similarities."

Ryland looked genuinely horrified. Rocky bounced happily on his legs. "You exhibit twenty-one matching behaviors." "Twenty-one?" Ryland closed his eyes. "Oh my..." Rocky continued. "Would you like complete evidence list?" "No!" "I prepared one." "Rocky." The alien immediately fell silent. "Yes?" Ryland sighed. "I’m begging you..." He rubbed a hand over his face. "please never say the phrase 'evidence list' again." 

That was it. You couldn't hold it together anymore, a laugh escaped before you could stop it. Ryland looked at you with the expression of a man who had just been betrayed by both of you. "You think this is funny?" "I'm sorry," you said quickly between laughs. "I honestly didn't think this conversation would go in this direction." "It absolutely should not have happened." "I know." "You two should have your communication privileges revoked."

Ryland let out the kind of sigh only someone trapped on a spaceship millions of miles from Earth could produce. "I'm living with one alien and one human." He pointed at you. "One laughs at my suffering." Then at Rocky. "The other keeps peer-reviewed records of it." Rocky clicked cheerfully. "I have not completed peer review." Ryland stared at him for three long seconds. Then, despite himself, he laughed. "Yeah," He picked up his coffee again. "and that's what worries me the most."