Submissions are open rn for the event only, but feel free to ask questions or chat :)
Ill write for Ryland Grace, Lars Lindstrom, Officer K, Ken (Barbie), Bucky Barnes, Baelor Targ., Duncan the Tall, and probably more that I cant think of rn
Rules:
I have the right to refuse anything
Please be nice :)
Dont be nasty and be asking some weird shit
I write in whatever POV my soul desires at that moment
Do NOT under any circumstance AI generate anything to do with my work (art, fanfic, etc) or upload MY content into a generator
thats it
Drabble Event Masterlist Here
Headcanon Masterlist Here
Below is my Main masterlist full of series and oneshots. Headcanons and drabbles will now be seperate!
also uhm sorry if I’m a complete chuzz here I don’t actually know how to use this very well..on the request I put in a few days ago I kinda forget to specify..like it was a lars related one, and I meant to type like insecure reader OR insecure Lars…and like maybe just feelings of doubt even though they’re somewhat unwarranted???
(For specifics it was a “I just want you to be happy” and “I always thought I’d be someone’s favorite person”..)
Apologies again if I’m doing this wrong! Feel free to slime me out!! Love ur work 🫶🫶🫶🫶 congrats on almost 200 freaking followers!!!!
The way you wordrd this is FRYING me. Like I am a chuzz too don't worry.
But also you asked for neurodivergent reader. Did you want that plus insecure reader (or lars) or JUST the insecure?
And no worries about thinking youre doing things wrong! We are here living and learning for the first time. I want to be a welcome space for being to yap and chat as they please so please dont worry about being wrong or a chuzz.
Also thanks for thr compliments and requests! I love feedback and doing things for people I'm glad you can find enjoyment from it !! 😊 🥰😘
CONGRATS ON THE FOLLOWERS, SWEETIE YOU DESERVE THEM ALL AND EVEN MORE!!!
Can I please get Driver with ; "I just want you to be happy." / Angst?
MWAH!!!
One of my favorite writers asking me for a request .... oh my goodness!!! Im blushing and kicking my feet rn. Also a/n at the end for an explanation on something that are kind of implied but not explained.
Driver X reader
Word Count: 1214
Driver lived only for 3 things: you, cars, and work. In that exact order. He didn't have friends outside of you and Shannon (if you even count him). He didn’t have any major goals or aspirations besides working until he died to provide for you. He slept in a shitty, one bedroom apartment that had a dining table filled to the brim with car parts and tools. A single chair and crappy, bumpy couch.
It was no way to live. And no way to die, either.
It was a constant, pervasive thought, wracking you with guilt endlessly. Why did you care so much? He told you time after time he was happy, that he would choose you time and time again over anything else. But who choses to live like this?
He loves you.
That much was evident by the way he worshiped the ground under your feet. Or the way he would do anything for you, even kill if he needed to.
And you loved him so much.
Which is why you wanted better for him. To actually give him a life outside of work and crime. Something to actually live for, rather than to die for.
A family.
You didn't know if it was fear or indifference, but he refused all the same, breaking your heart with every rejection. If it were up to you, the both of you would disappear. Find a new country to live in, live off the grid with children and animals of your own. But he was stuck in this city for some reason, working as some low end criminal get-away driver.
A driver.
That's all he's ever been and that's all he will ever be. No matter how much it destroys you. But you wanted him to be happy, so you let it go. Sacrificing your own life and dreams to see him smile.
It was no way for you to live.
The door slams open behind you and Driver limps in, holding his hand tightly to his side as blood gushes out of him. A torrent of heat rushes up your body, pooling in your face as panic takes over. It's a burning, overwhelming feeling, igniting your senses in fiery pain, but through it all you know what needs to be done.
Time and time again you've had to do this. Despite him being so good at his job, injuries were bound to happen, almost being second nature.
Without a word you stand, heart cooling into an icy void as you guide him to the bathroom. A pained, choked grunt escapes his lips as he leans back on the porcelain counter, staining the surface with sticky, red ichor. It was a color you've grown to hate, even if you've learned it represents him so well.
It stains your hands too. Especially as you clean the wound, wincing as Driver groans and whimpers underneath you. It's shallow, but jagged. Possibly caused by a piece of scrap metal or a large shard of glass. Luckily it's not too deep and you're able to patch it together using butterfly bandages before applying gauze and medical tape.
The both of you say nothing the entire time. He knows how angry you are, how desperate you are to just leave, but he doesn't know how to. All he knows is crime and cars.
Your feet lead you back to the bedroom. You reach for the dresser, pausing as you glimpse at your hand in the dim, shoddy lighting. Drying red blood stains your hands, filling your body with dread and fear. They begin to shake uncontrollably as your chest clenches painfully, tears beginning to form in your eyes.
Gentle fingers wrap around your wrist and you panic, wrenching your arm away as you heave out a sob. Driver says nothing, only stands there with pathetic puppy eyes as you glare at him. It's a look of pitiful acceptance. Of wanting to do better, but not knowing how.
“Dont.” A hiss escapes your lips as you stomp back to the bathroom, barely registering the soft footsteps falling behind you. “Driver, stop.”
He doesn't. And instead he grabs your hands again and turns on the faucet, washing the blood away with gentle, steady hands. Hands that have maimed and killed. Hands that are stained with the blood of criminals. Hands that hold you so softly and worship you so kindly.
“Why? Why can't we just leave, Driver. What's holding you here?”
Of course, he doesn't respond.
“Driver… tell me you're happy here.”
“I'm happy with you.”
“I-I just want you to be happy, Driver. I'll give it all up, never speak about it ever again if you just answer me honestly.” The water turns off, leaving the room in painful silence as you prepare. “Being here in LA, working a shitty, low paying job, working for criminals, barely sleeping, barely eating. Never knowing if you're going to come home. Come back to me. Does that honestly make you happy.”
It's almost comical how constipated he looks, how pathetic and scared he is under your burning, piercing gaze. He's silent for a long time. Far too long. And it hurts, the way he can barely comprehend his own emotions- let alone express them.
A scoff escapes you before you stand and walk away, water dribbling down your fingers onto the stained, peeling floors. God you hated those floors. Hated this entire apartment. Hated seeing him in pain constantly, so tired and worn out. So closed off from everyone.
A hand clamps around your wrist right as you exit the room and his soft, barely perceptible voice rings out, startling you.
“No.”
A single word. A single, miniscule word confirms everything you've suspected for months now. You don't say anything, just turn back around, heart dropping at the silent tears dripping down his face. Before you can help it, your fingers slide up, wiping them away as he breaks underneath you.
You've never seen him like this, so vulnerable and scared. But he falls into your arms, tucking his head into your shoulder as his body shakes with something unknown. You hold him for what feels like hours, listening to the way he chokes, not understanding how a man so silent and stoic can hold in so much pain.
“I'm sorry.”
The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. He stiffens underneath you before standing up and straightening his back, towering over you with false confidence. He shakes his head once before stepping closer, ghosting his fingers over the skin underneath your eye- catching a loose tear.
“We'll leave. First thing tomorrow. We'll take everything, get in the car and just go.” He stops for a second, watching as your eyes pinch together, lips curling into a tight smile. “Wherever you want to go. I'll take you. You want a dog? A cat? We'll get it. A house? A kid? Anything.”
He steps closer, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. It tastes like salt, but his lips are warm and soft, moving slowly against your lips. He doesn't move away completely, just leaves his lips resting against yours as he finishes.
“Whatever you want, I'll do it. All I need is you.”
A/N: SO I mainly think the reason Driver would be hesitant to leave at first is because I do genuinrly think he does care for Shanon. Even though he exploits him and isnt the best to him, he really was his first and only friend. I think he's also scared of change and the only reason he was ever willing to leave with Irene was because and she and Benny were in like perilous danger. I feel like he would be hesitant at first, but once he realizes truly he would do anything for his S/O he would drop it all without hesitation. Just needs a little push.
Dont worry, I'm still working on your requrst I havent forgotten. I just have a lot to do rn and have other hobbies and a social life. It's summer I just wanna go swimming (ken will go with me and show me his expert beach skills).
Alas I do not have a timeline but I just wanted to make sure yall know I'm not abandoning you :)
Im here to announce that I'm now attracted to Ken. I did not see the appeal before, but my friends have widened my mind.
and I may write him eventually we'll see if I can nail him in my mind. Im tossing ideas at Rebecca this morning and they're cute. But also I'm 3.4k+ into this HOA!Court smut and god willing... we post soon. Im having my usual 'oh no can I actually finish a fic and is this really decent' anxiety.
But, I'm so close and I need to edit it first. I may send it to a friend first because my ADHD ass is surely apparent all over it. Either way so happy to be done and after this I have my Holland x Pianist headcanon request and then we're back to my OG, Ryland concussion request.
Ahh and I need to do the GG Fairy tale stuff as well... quite quickly!
Much to ponder indeed.
Hope everyone is having a lovely morning and if you bothered to read all that ily 💗🌈
warnings: shyness and fears; Lars being Lars; a little kissing? ; just fluff
note : a dance in the church hall, and he would love to be there with you
A/N: I've had this in my drawer for a while. I've been looking for a good time to add it here… maybe now?
[Ryan Gosling masterlist] [main masterlist]
The church hall glowed warmly against the cold evening snow. Strings of yellow fairy lights hung from the ceiling, rows of folded chairs lined the walls, and someone was already testing the speakers as music echoed softly through the room. Half the town was probably going to show up. They always did.
You were adjusting some paper decorations near the entrance when you noticed someone standing awkwardly behind the glass doors.
Tall. Hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. Looking like he wanted to disappear into the dark before anyone could notice him. He probably already regretted coming.
Lars Lindstrom.
The moment your eyes met, he quickly looked away, and it made you smile.
You pushed the door open slightly. “You know, standing out here like that makes you look a little suspicious.”
Lars blinked hard, visibly flustered. “Oh. Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to… I mean…” He stumbled over the words. “I was just passing by.”
“Really?” You stepped outside and crossed your arms against the cold.
It was freezing, but you didn’t want to go back inside for your coat. Lars might disappear into the snow and darkness before you came back. You stepped aside as a few laughing women approached the doors carrying trays of cookies and snacks.
“So? Are you coming in?”
“Maybe.”
“You still haven’t decided? It’ll be nice.”
A small, embarrassed smile appeared on Lars’ lips. His eyes dropped back to the ground. Even though laughter and music drifted out from inside, there was silence between you. But not an uncomfortable silence. It was Lars’ kind of silence - quiet, gentle, safe.
“You don’t like crowds much, huh?”
“They’re okay,” he answered automatically.
“Then why did you come?”
His ears turned pink within seconds. That always softened something in you.
“I, uh…” he started, only to stop again, like the words couldn’t quite find their way out. You gave him time, and after swallowing hard and clearing his throat, he continued quietly, “There’s a dance.”
“Mhm.” You nodded.
Another deep breath. “And I thought maybe…” Lars pulled his hands from his pockets, nervously rubbing them together. “Maybe you were already going with someone.”
You studied him for a moment, replaying his words in your mind, until suddenly it clicked. Lars looked absolutely terrified of what he’d just admitted. Like he was one second away from bolting back into the snow. And yet he was still standing there in front of you.
Your voice softened. “Are you trying to ask me to the dance?”
He froze. Snowflakes drifted between you while Lars stared at you with wide, frightened eyes.
“Maybe.”
“You could’ve just asked instead of standing out here making up every possible scenario.” A small smile tugged at your lips.
“Sometimes that’s easier,” he admitted quietly.
“Yes,” you said gently. “I’d like to go with you.”
Lars stared at you, completely caught off guard. “You would?”
“Yeah.”
His shoulders loosened just slightly, like he’d been bracing for impact the entire evening. He lowered his gaze again.
“I should warn you,” he mumbled, “I’m not very good at dancing.”
You shrugged. “That’s okay.”
“I might step on your feet.”
“I’ll survive.”
He glanced up uncertainly. “I’m also not entirely sure what people are supposed to do at things like this.”
Now you really couldn’t stop smiling. He was adorable.
“Usually people dance and eat cake. I already spotted a few really good ones.”
Lars smiled then, genuinely this time. Another song started playing inside, and he glanced toward the hall before looking back at you.
“Would you maybe…” He hesitated again. “Want to go in now?”
You held your hand out to him. He hesitated. But after a moment, very carefully, like he was afraid he might break something fragile, Lars slipped his hand into yours. Cold fingers and gentle touch.
You led him inside, and even though Lars felt completely terrified, there was also a quiet feeling deep inside him that this was worth it.
Inside, the hall was loud with music and conversation. A few people greeted Lars as he nervously took off his coat and followed you toward the dance floor. He kept glancing at you like you might suddenly change your mind. Like at any second you’d decide this had been a mistake. But you didn’t. The music shifted into something slower, and you noticed Lars’ eyes widen.
“Oh,” he said quietly. “Already?”
“You backing out?” you teased softly as you stepped closer.
He shook his head immediately.
“Good,” you whispered. “You promised me a dance.”
Couples were already swaying around the room, too busy with each other to notice either of you. Lars carefully placed a hand near your waist, hesitant, clearly afraid of overstepping.
“You can put your hand here,” you said softly, guiding it gently.
His fingers barely rested against your side. You placed your hands on his shoulders. Lars was tense, you could feel it instantly. Even while dancing, it almost seemed like he’d forgotten how to breathe.
“Nervous?” you asked quietly.
“A little.”
“Why?”
The question clearly caught him off guard. Lars swallowed once before answering honestly. “Because you being nice to me makes me nervous.”
Your heart nearly melted. “I don’t want you to feel nervous around me.”
“Sorry,” he answered quickly.
“You don’t have to apologize.” You smiled softly at him. “I like spending time with you, Lars. And I’m really happy I get to dance with you tonight.”
A small smile appeared on his face. It suited him so much.
“I already stepped on your foot once,” he pointed out.
“And I’m still here.”
That seemed to calm him. He exhaled softly, finally relaxing just a little. Music drifted around you while people danced and laughed nearby, but somehow the two of you existed in your own quiet little world.
“I almost didn’t ask you,” Lars admitted after a while, eyes dropping again.
“Why?”
“I thought…” He took a deep breath. “I thought maybe you’d think it was strange.”
“Strange?”
A nervous shrug lifted one shoulder. “Me asking. Wanting to. Thinking maybe…” He paused. “Maybe you’d want to spend time with me too.”
The honesty in his voice made your chest ache. You hadn’t even noticed the song had changed. Neither of you had.
“Lars,” you said gently, “I came here because I wanted to be with you.”
Your simple, honest answer surprised him. Relief crossed his face almost immediately, and before he could stop himself, the next words slipped out quietly.
“I’m really glad you did.”
“So am I,” you whispered with a smile.
Snow crunched beneath your shoes as Lars walked you home later that night. The air was freezing, but neither of you seemed to care anymore. The dance had ended a while ago, yet neither of you had been in any hurry to say goodbye.
The streets were quiet. Warm lights glowed behind frosted windows while the two of you walked side by side. Lars stayed close, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. Every now and then he glanced at you, like he needed to make sure you were still there. You noticed every single time.
“That was a nice evening,” you said, your breath turning into mist.
“Mhm,” Lars murmured softly. “It was nice. I’m sorry.”
You blinked at him. “For what?”
“I stepped on your feet a few times. I didn’t mean to.”
“Hey.” He looked up at you, and you smiled warmly. “It was wonderful.”
An uncertain smile appeared on his lips again.
“You’re really nice,” he said quietly. “I like spending time with you, you know.”
Your chest tightened. The evening really had been wonderful. Sure, Lars had stepped on your foot once or twice, but honestly, you’d been too focused on other things, the way he’d slowly relaxed over the course of the night, the few shy laughs you’d managed to pull from him, the way he looked at you during the last dance like he still couldn’t believe any of this was real.
Eventually you reached your porch. Lars stopped just before it, like there was some invisible line he wasn’t sure he was allowed to cross.
“Well,” he started softly, “thank you for going with me tonight.”
He sounded nervous again. Like he’d rehearsed this part in his head already.
“Thank you. I had a really nice time.”
His eyes lifted quickly, searching your face for any sign you were only saying it to be polite. Apparently he found none, because some of the tension in his expression eased.
“You really mean that?”
“Of course.” You smiled. “Maybe we could go together again sometime?”
His blue eyes widened in surprise, but after a second he nodded. “I’d like that,” he admitted quietly. “I like being around you.”
Something in his expression softened then, like he was finally allowing himself to believe this was real. You took a small step closer. He didn’t move away. You could see how hard he was trying to stay here in the moment with you, despite how nervous he was. Because more than anything, he wanted to.
Lars was one of the kindest men you had ever known. Gentle and thoughtful. Sensitive in ways most people overlooked. Careful with everything and everyone around him. And somehow, with him, you always felt safe.
For a moment you wondered whether he would ever make the first move. Whether he’d ever gather the courage to do something more.
Before you could overthink it, you leaned forward and kissed him. Softly. Carefully.
Lars froze. His whole body tensed the moment your lips brushed against his. For one brief second you worried you might have overwhelmed him, but then Lars kissed you back. Also carefully. A little uncertainly. Like he was afraid you might disappear if he moved too fast.
His hand lifted hesitantly before resting lightly against the sleeve of your coat, fingers trembling just a little. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but when you pulled away, Lars looked completely speechless. His eyes were wide.
“Oh,” he whispered.
You smiled. “Oh?”
“I…” He blinked rapidly, clearly trying and failing to recover. “I didn’t know that was going to happen.”
“I know.”
“That was…” Lars stopped, apparently overwhelmed by the limits of human language.
You watched his face turn pink despite the freezing weather. After a moment, very quietly, he asked: “Can I maybe kiss you again?”
Your heart melted instantly. You smiled and stepped a little closer.
“Yeah,” you whispered.
And this time, when Lars kissed you, he was still nervous. Still gentle. But no longer afraid you might disappear.
May I please request Lars Lindstorm with “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified” and “Can you come pick me up?”. Angst and comfort please!
Thank you <3
LARS I WOULD DIE FOR YOUUUUUUU. Also, I would like to note that readers date actually had 0 bad intentions, he was just a bad date and wanted to genuinely make sure she had fun and eventually get home safe. Reader is just so out of it that she doesn't think so.
Word Count: 1570
Lars x Reader
The date was horrendous, to say the least. It's not as if the man wasn't extremely gorgeous, or charming, or incredibly successful and wealthy. It was just… he was exactly that. He was too pretty and well put together for your taste, preferring to hear the sound of his own voice rather than to ask you anything. It’s not as if he were rude or insufferable, just not for you.
It was miserable.
At least, he appeared to be enjoying himself tonight. He bought you drink after drink after dinner and even offered to take you out to a bar afterwards. But being cramped up in a small room with music blaring and sweaty bodies grinding against each other just didn't sound fun anymore. Especially not with a man you barely knew and already couldn't stand.
Maybe he was perfect for someone else, but he's just not what you wanted.
Your perfect man was soft and quiet, attentive and caring, with bright blue eyes and soft, chocolate brown hair. One who preferred to stay indoors and play scrabble while watching a movie, rather than prowl the down in scantily clad clothing. He would cook dinner for you and listen to you rant about a shitty day before kissing you softly with perfect, pink lips.
Lars.
Lars was your perfect, ideal man and you knew it. This date was just a distraction, a last ditch effort at not falling in love with your best friend. But it was useless. You were irrevocably and irrefutably in love with Lars Lindstrom.
“Listen, we don't have to go to a bar. We can just go back to mine… watch a movie?”
The grating sound of his chimes in your ears, filling your body with a sense of unease.
No.
“No, no.” You shake your head and step closer to the sidewalk, pulling your cardigan closer into you. “No, it's fine really. I'm just going to call a friend to come get me.”
“That bad, huh?”
A snort escapes your lips before you can help it and both of you chuckle at your misfortune.
“No offense, but… yeah… maybe try talking less next time?”
Surprisingly, he just laughs and shakes his head before nodding respectfully, “noted. I will do better for the next beautiful person I just happen to cross paths with.”
“Good. I'm glad… do you mind if I step away for a second… I need to make a call?”
He just shakes his head and motions you away before stepping back and watching the street. Your phone rings loudly in your hand a single time before he picks up and immediately calls out to you.
“Y/N! H-hi! Are you okay?”
“Yeah Lars I'm fine. Listen, can you come pick me up, please?”
“Of course, give me 10 minutes.”
You can already hear him shuffling at the door as he rushes to say bye and start his car. Knowing Lars, he was probably standing by the window, either waiting for you to call or possibly knock on his door. So, you and your failed date stand in awkward silence, waiting for your saviour to pull you out of his reach.
The car pulls up with a rolling clang and a squeal as the breaks scream suddenly. Normally Lars would be more gentle with his car, but he seems rushed now- almost panicked. The door slams shut as he gets out of the car before he approaches with a huff. It's almost comical, the way he puffs out his chest and stares down the man next to you. It's endearing and oddly sweet.
“Lars! Hi, this is Eric,” you motion towards him with a small smile and he waves back, “he was nice enough to make sure I was safe until you got here.”
Lars doesn't respond, choosing instead to give Eric a small, respectful nod before approaching and opening the passenger side door. He ensures you get it safely and are comfortable before closing it with a gentle click. It's silent in there, save for the gentle hum and vibrations of the engine. You watch as Lars turns towards the man and exchanges a few confident words. Something very out of place for the gentle and timid man.
The door slams shut as Lars enters the car and you watch with baited breath as he sighs loudly and clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head as emotions overwhelm him. It’s painfully silent and you feel tears creeping in as burning, hot shame creeps up your spine. You should’ve had Eric take you home, you inconvenienced him.
The ride home is completely silent. A whole 15 minutes of just sitting there and watching as Lars stews in silence. It’s painful and unfortunately awkward, allowing the deprecating thoughts and emotions to compound aggressively. He stops in front of your house and exits the car before opening your door softly and helping you out. One reason why you love him so much. No matter how angry or tired he is, he always does his best to remain gentle and loving. Something so many fail to do.
“D-did he hurt you?”
“What?!”
“You called me to come get you… I-I thought something was wrong. And then he was standing over you still and you looked so small… s-so timid.”
“No, no Lars.” You walk up to him before stepping just inches away, wanting desperately to reach out and touch him. How badly you want to just touch him for once. “He didn’t do anything… it just didn’t work out. I, uh, I wanted you to come pick me up because you make me feel better.”
You stare at his chest, scared to look up and see his reaction. When he doesn’t say anything your eyes flicker up, locking with his surprised expression. They clench shut suddenly and his lips quiver, trying to form the words that won't come to his head. God, to reach out and caress those perfect, pink lips, to feel the way they move under yours.
Tears spring into your eyes as you spiral in front of him. It’s so painful trying to imagine the life that you desperately want, the one that you can’t have. There’s so much to lose here, but there’s also so, so much to gain.
His brows shoot up as tears start falling and he panics, hands reaching up to grasp at your arms in futile attempts to sooth you. The feeling of his hands, so warm and large, pressing against your skin through so many layers, does little to console you. But he tries anyway, whispering silent words of praise and comfort as he scrambles to help.
“I-I’m so s-scared….” You shake your head and try to pull back, frowning and choking at the way his hands hold you there.
“Why? Why are you scared? Tell me, it’s okay!”
“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”
The words are like lava in your throat, burning and constricting as he stands there in silence. His hands fall limp at his side and burning shame and embarrassment fills you at his silent rejection. You just shake your head and walk away, not daring to look at him.
“Y-you love me?”
His voice is so silent, so timid and shaky as he calls out to you. You don’t turn to look at him, choosing instead to stop and nod, hoping that he can see you.
“Really?”
It’s futile now, to resist. So you turn and lock eyes with him, heart dropping at the tears streaming down his face. He suddenly laughs and shakes his head, cringing at the way the tears fall down his face faster. He looks back up and smiles at you, lips quivering in an unknown emotion.
“Yeah, Lars. I really do love you.” He smiles even brighter and nods his head, sniffing as he tries to catch his breath. “I love the way you smile, how gentle you are, how you love birds and soft sweaters and puzzles and board games, how you always stop to look at the flowers on the side of the road… Even if half the time they’re actually weeds. I love everything about you Lars and I have for a very, very long time. And that scares me.”
The silence is painful, but after a long, tense moment he speaks, his voice almost a whisper.
“I- I love you too.”
A choked sob escapes your lips at the confession and, without thinking, you run forward, wrapping your arms around his chest tightly. He stiffens under your touch before relaxing immediately and wrapping his arms around you. Leaning down, he places a warm hand against your chin, cupping your face with his enormous digits. For the first time in your life, you feel how soft and warm his skin is against yours. It’s overwhelming, but so beautiful, filling you with a warmth you’ve been denying yourself for so long.
“C-can I kiss you?”
“Please.”
Soft, warm lips press against yours, lighting your world with lights. It’s almost comically stereotypical how perfect it feels, how colorful lights bloom behind your eyes as butterflies flutter in your stomach and chest. They linger for a moment, completely chaste and innocent as the both of you relish in each other's embrace. For the first time in your life, you feel complete and totally, utterly, in love.
Almost 200..... more freaks for me to share my content with it. Welcome to the party and I hope we can continue to grow. Also don't forget to submit something in my drabbles request event while it's still open!
”is that my shirt?” and “how long have you been standing there?” Ryland grace fluff pleasee?? 🥹🥹
”is that my shirt?” and “how long have you been standing there?” Ryland grace fluff pleasee?? 🥹🥹
Word Count: 1108
I normally find adding music lyrics to fics cringe but I felt it was right for thr plot here. Enjoy some pure cringe, fluffslop from me!
Ryland had been gone for far too long. Really he should've known better than to leave you alone and unsupervised for the entire day. Sure, he had friends (one) and he wanted to spend time with her occasionally, but you got bored alone. And with boredom, comes ridiculous at home shows- meant for your eyes alone.
Music was blasting. Currently some older Katy Perry songs were blaring in the midst of early to late 2000s music. And you were dancing and singing along with it, unconcerned about anyone possibly perceiving you in such a state. Ryland was always home super late on these days, and there were still at least two hours to go.
You barely even knew the lyrics really, but all that mattered right now were the vibes as you half cleaned the room. And dancing alone late at night with a hairbrush as a mic and a cat for a backup dancer was pretty fun.
Through it all, you don't hear the front door open, see the cat run out of the room, and the consequential footsteps of a curious boyfriend inching closer and closer to your shared room. You just continue having fun while absentmindedly looking through a dirty clothes pile for something that was actually yours.
Maybe laundry should've been on your radar instead?
The door creaks open slowly and you remain ignorant, completely engrossed at the task at hand. Suddenly you groan and throw your head back towards the ceiling, trying to recall where you last left your favorite bed time shirt.
“Where the heck?” The music crescendos and you forget your plight for a moment, continuing to dance and sing pathetically bad. You do a quick spin and for a moment you swear you can see a blurred figure standing in the doorway.
Wait. What.
Your body stiffens and it's almost as if the music disappears entirely as red, hot shame creeps up your neck, igniting your skin in flames. A millennia passes as you turn around, your shoulders tense and eyes impossibly wide. He stands there in the doorway, a wide grin on his face as he tries desperately to hold in a laugh.
“H-how long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough,” he snorts and steps forwards, “is this usually what you do when I'm gone?”
“Y-yea- NO! No, I usually do very productive things like laundry and reading books and…… and….”
“Dancing?”
“Ugh, how much did you see?”
You step towards him dramatically, feet dragging across the floor as you groan loudly. A cocky chuckle escapes him as his hands find your hips, pulling you closer.
“Is that my shirt?”
“You ignored my question…”
He pointedly ignores you and his fingers slip down, playing with the hem of his shirt draped over your torso. They linger for a moment before his eyes flicker up, locking with yours as adoration fills his face. He's so beautiful like this, so unexpectedly soft and calm for a man who's so high strung and clumsy all the time.
“You also ignored my question.”
“I asked first!”
“I guess both will remain unanswered then. Forever, to remain life's greatest unsolved queries.”
“You are so insufferable, Ryland!” You smack his chest gently, not actually putting effort or malice into the motion. “How much did you see?”
“Enough to come to the conclusion that you are a very bad dancer.”
He jolts back as you raise a playful hand again, giggling as you aim for his chest. Trying to run is futile, not with the vice grip you have on his wrist. So, he relents before leaning in, slotting his body against yours as his lips unexpectedly capture yours. He sighs into it and chuckles when your hand drops limply to your side as you probe his mouth for entrance. It's slow and methodical- a far cry to your previous fervor.
The both of you stand like that for a while, lips lock as his hands play and knead at your waist like a man starved. He pulls back and presses a quick peck to your lips before standing up fully and looking down at you with a cocked head and a smirk
“I'm just joking, you know- you look cute. I think you should dance and sing more often.”
“Oh no, sir. Not happening. Not unless you pa-”
“Oh, what was that you were saying? Unless I joined you?! Well, don't mind if I do!”
Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulls you back in before grabbing your free hand and extending it in a slow dance. He spins you around gently, rocking your bodies with clumsy, untrained movements as he starts to obnoxiously sing.
“When I see your face!”
“No!”
“There's not a thing that I would change”
“Ry, stop,” a giggle escapes you as you try to move a hand up to block his lips, only stopped by his forcing you down. He doesn't miss a beat in the song at all, serenading you the entire time with purposely bad singing. “Ry!”
“Just the way you areeeeeeeeee!!!!” The chorus continues and he smirks, “I'm not stopping until you join!”
“Okay, okay!”
So, you join, awkward and timid at first as Ryland speeds up your movements, forcing you to dance wildly with the beat. It's a slow song, but he doesn't care as he spins you around, forcing you into a dip. But, in classic Ryland fashion, he drops you- straight onto the floor with a loud clang.
“Oh my god, I'm so sorry!”
An arm extends to pick you up, but you just laugh and grip it tightly, delighting in the way his face drops in panic immediately.
“Oh, no.”
A firm tug sends him careening to the ground with a loud gasp. His arms flail and his hands press to either side of your head as he catches himself on top of you. He stays like that for a second, chest heaving as he catches his breath, all while you cackle at him.
“I guess there's egg on both of our faces now, huh?”
“Yeah, it appears that there is, Ry.”
Your fingers thread into his hair, pulling him down to meet your lips once more. A sigh escapes his lips and into yours as he lowers himself down, pressing his body tightly against yours.
“You do look really good in my shirt, though.” He whispers into your mouth.
“Hmmm, I should wear them more often, shouldn't I?”
Ryland + “You don’t have to tell me anything, we can just sit here.” + angst/comfort/fluff
<3
ILY AND CONGRATULATIONS YOU DESEVE A MILLION FOLLOWERS!
Ryland + “You don’t have to tell me anything, we can just sit here.” + angst/comfort/fluff
Word Count: 1196
PSA: idea of reader being therapist was actually @eridianhearts hearts idea. I just loved it and asked permission to use it for this drabble. So, credit goes to them. Thank you!
Ryland was everything you weren't: intelligent, successful, funny, and so, so painfully beautiful. It's easy to feel insignificant next to him, especially when he and Rocky were the saviours of the universe- not you. You were just a glorified therapist who was unlucky enough to lose your memory alongside him on this suicide trip.
When the both of you woke up, Ryland had found his place on the ship immediately. Sure, he was confused, and sad, and angry, but he knew one thing- he excelled at science and mathematics. Comparatively, you struggled to follow along with his ranting, feeling inadequate compared to his brilliance. Nothing on the ship even made sense to you. You didn't know mechanics, you couldn't pilot, you weren't a biologist. The only thing that you knew, was that you knew nothing.
That feeling eventually compounded when you met Rocky. The best engineer and mathematician you've ever met in your life. And you couldn't even understand how Ryland rewired the lighting.
You had eventually learned that you were intended to be the on-board therapist. However, without any memories or any other reasonable skills, you were essentially useless. A staggering waste of carbon, as Ryland would kindly put it.
He would never say that to your face though, but you knew he thought it deep down inside.
That's how you found yourself self-isolating in a tiny space ship careening towards an unknown alien planet. It was hard, in such small confines, but you managed enough- preferring the deafening silence to Ryland's and Rocky's inquisitive stares.
They tried their best to help in any way they could, but it didn't help. Despite how good you were at helping others, how good at listening you were, you couldn't talk about it. You were made to be a listener and that's how you'll remain.
Hopefully.
The mental health room, lovingly termed the ‘don't go crazy room’ by Ryland, was your favorite hiding place these days. It was easy to tuck away against the black LED panels, wrapped tightly in dark clothes and blankets allowing you to blend into the wall seamlessly. Of course, Rocky could find you at any time, but he must know how much you need the isolation.
Ryland doesn't, however.
So, he finds you with your head resting against the panels as your body shivers with something unknown, something deeper and more complex than sadness. He knows something is wrong immediately, that much is evident by the way he sits down next to you- uncharacteristically calm and silent. His hand slips underneath the blanket and his fingers intertwine with yours, filling you with a warmth that shakes your body. It should be comforting, but all it does is fill you with dread.
Here he is, doing your job.
A tremor escapes your body as you cling desperately onto propriety. Do not cry, do not panic, calm. It's useless though and you cough as a choked, sob escapes through your lips. It's swallowed down in a moment and cold, deliberate calmness seeps over your heart, chilling you to the bone.
“Hey, don't do that.” He leans forward and pulls your hand, forcing your body closer to his. You don't fight it and allow yourself this simple comfort, despite not feeling deserving of it. “You can cry, it's okay.”
The tears well in your eyes again at his simple reassurance and you're unable to stop the flow this time, feeling as the cold streams cascade down your face and onto his shirt. It's pathetic really, the way you rely so heavily on someone who should be relying on you. He's the savior of the universe and here he is, consoling a lonely, devoid soul because they can't manage to do it themselves.
“What's wrong?”
You don't answer him, choosing instead to tuck yourself into his neck, body shivering as his arms wrap around you. A second later he pulls you into his lap, allowing you to lay your burdens onto him, despite how much you want to shoulder them alone.
Soft, gentle lips press themselves against your head, lingering in your hair as he whispers kind praises to you. It's all incoherent over your crying, but the thought and intent is what matters and it makes you feel lighter all the same. He doesn't pry, he never does.
“It's okay, y/n. You don't have to say anything, we can just sit here. How does that sound?”
You hum into his neck, vibrating his skin and he jolts, body shaking as tickles vibrate down his spine and into his toes. He giggles for a moment and hugs you even tighter to him, shaking you back and forth as he scolds you for ticking him- even if it was unintentional. It makes you smile and laugh at how goofy and how unapologetically him, he is.
The both of you sit there for a long while, wrapped in each other's arms as you find a comfortable solace in each other. You might be the last two humans alive in the universe, but at least you're alone together. And nothing will change that.
Suddenly, his fingers find your jaw and he turns your head towards him, locking your eyes together. He smiles gently and leans in, pressing his warm, soft lips to yours in a loving kiss. There's no passion or heat, only pure love and adoration as he slowly moves his lips with yours, molding you together. He presses one last, lingering peck to your lips before pulling back and smiling, his fingers stroking your cheek.
“I don't know what's wrong… and it's okay if you never tell me. But never hide from me again and please never hide your emotions.” He sighs and looks away, his lips quivering as emotions brew. “You and Rocky are all I have… P-please don't hide from me..”
“I-I'm sorry, Ry,” a choke escapes your lips, “I'm sor-”
“It's okay. You'll tell me when you're ready. I… I just can't do this without you.”
You chose not to respond and instead, you press a kiss to the corner of his lips before tucking yourself into his neck once again. Is it selfish and horrible to feel relieved at how much he needs you?
Maybe.
Probably.
But at least he needs you as much as you need him. And it makes you feel useful- which is enough for now.
A new presence makes itself known finally as Rocky loudly rolls into the room, screeching with excitement.
“Rocky join hug time too?”
Both of you stare before breaking out into soft laughter, your bodies shaking as Ryland leans his head back against a panel.
“No, no… it's okay Rocky come here. We were missing something anyway.”
He trills loudly and rolls up to the both of you, loafing up in his ball as he presses his body tightly to the xenonite glass- as close as possible. The warmth of his body seeps into you and Ryland, and you all lay there, enjoying the silence together. Instead of painfully alone.
