#kit's fic library

[generalized-incompetence]

“You have, like, books here, right?”

Myrtle, the librarian, looks up from her desk, at the library, where she has been finalizing a new order of library books. 

“Yes,” she says. “We do.”

Read on AO3 here

“Oh!” says the man with a relieved smile. “Great.”

Myrtle eyes him over the stacks of books and notepads on her desk. She has been a librarian for nearly four decades, and she’s seen all sorts, though she can’t recall anyone ever asking this particular question. The man in front of the desk is… hm. Muscular is the best word she can think of, though she would have more choice adjectives if she was a few decades younger and/or inclined in that direction. Chiseled, perhaps. Blonde, predictably, with the sort of haircut that had been popular on Ken dolls, back in the day (do they still have Ken dolls? Barbie has certainly traveled; she’d heard something about a breakup?). His smile is pleasant enough, though somewhat vacant, and judging by his question, this might be the first library he’s entered in his life.

But, librarians didn’t judge - not books by their cover, and not patrons by their questions - so she shifts away from her computer and says, “Can I help you find anything in particular?”

“Oh!” says the man, brightening at the offer of help. “The thing is, this guy Mike? He’s, like, really smart? And I’m not? So I thought, maybe, if I read some books and stuff, he might like me more?”

He looks so hopeful that Myrtle doesn’t have the heart to tell him that changing oneself is rarely worthwhile, and that his best hope with this “Mike” likely involves who he is now. The man misinterprets her silence and blunders forth with, “Not like like, obviously. Just as, um. Is there a word for, like, people who hang out all the time, and talk a lot, and think the other person is really smart and cool and funny and just make each other, um, I guess. Happy?”

Myrtle raises an eyebrow. “...Friends?” she says.

“Yeah!” says the man with the biggest smile yet. “Yeah. Friends.”

Myrtle has always considered her duties as a librarian to extend past the books and towards the well-being of her patrons, but she feels this man may need more help than she is able to provide. “What kind of books does this Michael enjoy?” she asks. “Any subjects he’s interested in?”

“Aliens,” says the man instantly.

“Aliens?” says Myrtle.

The man nods enthusiastically. “He knows everything about them,” he says. “Like, all the stuff the government’s been covering up - he got access, or I guess I gave him access, and he says it’s just what he thought the whole time and people are super not paying attention. And then he said a bunch of science things that sounded really smart. So maybe if you have some books that could, um, explain that?”

“You’re looking for,” says Myrtle slowly, “scientific books about aliens?”

“Yeah!” says the man.

Myrtle takes off her glasses, polishes them on her sweater, and puts them back on. “I’ll… see what I can do,” she says.

“Oh! One more thing,” says the man. “Sorry, I know you’re a librarian and everything, but reading, like, kinda sucks? So if there’s any books you have that you, like, don’t have to read to get smart - could you find those?”

Ah, she thinks. Thoughts of UFOs fly out of her head as she recalibrates her illicit judgments. There are reasons she is a librarian, and this man is one of them. She is suddenly and overwhelmingly grateful that this man has chosen this library, on this day, to walk in and present her with an opportunity to unlock literature, outside the written word.

“Have you ever tried,” she says, “audiobooks?”

An hour and a half later, she has loaded the man down with several audiobooks; a stack of graphic novels; links to browser extensions for changing font size/spacing and rendering text to speech; and, of course, a brand-new library card. 

“Now, these are all just starting places,” she says, methodically scanning out each graphic novel in turn. “If any of them don’t work for you, you don’t need to push it. But if it does work, then you feel free to come back and ask me for more, alright?”

The man, who, to his credit, did not flee when she went Full Librarian, swallows. “I - I guess,” he says. “But, I mean. Are you sure? Like, this isn’t really reading, right? Picture books are for babies.”

“These aren’t picture books,” she says snippily. “They’re graphic novels. It’s a perfectly legitimate form of literature, and if anyone gives you a hard time, you send them straight to me.”

He pulls the closest book towards him and flips through the pages, lingering over some of the more vivid illustrations. She’s had this conversation so many times she could have it in her sleep, but it still breaks her heart a little, to think a little thing like formatting has stood in his way for so long. 

“We’ve only had writing for about five thousand years,” she tells him, “but we’ve always had stories. True purists should still be sitting around a fire carrying on the oral tradition. There are plenty of ways to read that don’t involve words on a page.”

“Huh,” says the man, staring at a full-page spread of a detailed spaceship. “That’s - that’s kinda cool.”

“It certainly is,” says Myrtle. She finishes checking him out and slides the rest of the books and resources across the desk. “Good luck with your Michael,” she says, looking him straight in the eye. “And everything else.”

“Thanks!” he says with a bright smile. “You know, I always thought libraries sucked? But you don’t suck at all.”

Myrtle refrains from a sigh. “Thank you,” she says instead, and waves him out.

—

She thinks of him a few times over the next couple weeks. She doesn’t seriously expect to see him again; there are return bins outside, and her shifts are fairly irregular. But roughly three weeks later, she looks up and there he is, with a slight, nervous-looking man in tow.

“Hey, it’s you again!” says the man with an oversized wave. “Mike, this is the nice librarian lady who gave me all those, um, graphic novels. Hey, librarian lady, those links you gave me were so cool! I never knew there were all those things that would read emails and stuff to you, so you don’t have to read them at all!”

Myrtle does try to remain somewhat detached, but she can’t help but feel warmed by this outcome. Even better, Mike responds to this speech with a fond smile, first in the man’s direction and then in hers. “Thank you,” he says. “That was, um. Overdue, I think.”

“Oh, no, I turned all the books in on the day they said!” says the man quickly. “No library fines here!”

Mike laughs and pats the man’s arm. “Come on,” he says. “Didn’t you want to look for the Predator sequels?”

“Yes,” says the man, and tows Mike inside. Myrtle watches them go, still feeling like a job well done. Maybe she needs a new slogan, she thinks. Libraries: We don’t suck at all! She snorts and shakes her head. She’ll work on it. She has plenty more patrons to practice on.

#dghda #dghda fic #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #hugo friedkin #assisfriedkin #(lightly) #my fic #he just needs help you guys #he just needs a little bit of support #he is Trying #i wrote this fic last year and forgot about it SURPRISE libraries are still great <3 <3 #some resources in the ao3 link #including!! accessibility kits at the library #literally they have everything #give your local librarian extra love it's a rough time and they're so so important

[tennessoui]

i can’t remember which au it was, but i miss the au where luke was dating din (i think he brought him over for christmas?) and anakin and obiwan were just Concerned and Judgmental parents dhsjdjf

omg that's kuwsk, keeping up with the skywalker-kenobis!!! one of my favorite aus and one of the first silly lil aus i had - though for most all of it, luke is a baby

the specific chapter you're talking about is here, one of the christmas fics i did this year!

and this is the tag on tumblr

#asks #kuwsk also my beloved #damn its 20 pages on my blog LMAO #the fic is complete btw #i mean sorta #it's a collection of oneshots in the same au #also nixie did a moodboard for it once and i love it #same goes with someone's playlist they made for it :D #also i feel like half my job on this blog is to usher people gently to the right section/tag of my blog lmao #one of those fic finding blogs but it's just librarian kit and a library of her fics and ficlets #'who are you more like obi-wan or anakin' actually im jocasta nu

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

You did so good on the Dad Husk!!! 10/10!!

Would you wanna do another one, a little on the darker side, but Charlie finds out Husk’s daughter has a SH problem and tells him? Maybe he knew she used to have an issue with it but didn’t know she relapsed?

thank you soooo much!

i am hoping that i did this prompt justice. it was a bit difficult for me to write, but i made this more fluff and comfort. and figured it could give someone else some comfort like a warm hug.

WARNINGS: there is definite mentions of SH (self harm) in this.

this is also a psa before the fic, i am not a therapist nor a doctor or anyone knowledgeable really at all. i am not to take the place of a medical professional.

but if this fic resonates in any way, please know I love you, i care about you and please talk to a trusted friend, family member, professional etc if you or someone you know actively self harms.

the trevor project has resources available and counselors to talk too as well. there is also crisis text line too, either are there if you or someone you know is in crisis.

shit does get better and if it’s not better it’s not the end.

without further ado, the fic:

“Hey Husk?” Charlie approaches the bar slow, her voice going up an octave as she speaks. Husk knows she’s either going to ask for something impossible, it’s a really important thing to her or there’s some

bad news.

“What’s goin’ on, Princess?” Husk asks, fully facing Charlie and giving her his full attention.

“I-Well…” Charlie stutters. “I’m not sure how say this, but I’m concerned.”

“Just spit it out, however ya need to.” Husk directs.

“I saw, Y/N, and you know how they’ve been wearing long sleeves?” Charlie asks. Husk’s eyes widen, like he knows where this is going.

“No.” Husk says, looking at Charlie almost like he was pleading with her to tell him he was lying.

“Yes. I saw fresh marks because they had their sleeves rolled up and they didn’t know I was there.” Charlie says, tears prickling her eyes. “And I didn’t want to do anything and just got you because-“

“The last time they ran.” Husk finished for Charlie, sighing and putting a closed sign on the bar. “Where were they?”

“Upstairs, near the library.” Charlie points up the stairs.

“Okay.” Husk puts his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Thank you, Charlie.”

“Of course. Let me know if there’s anything that either of you need.” Charlie says standing there and watching as Husk nods and makes his way upstairs.

Husk looks near the library and doesn’t see Y/N. He sighs and then goes to their room, peaking in and seeing them asleep on the bed. He knew they were a deep sleeper so he quietly made his way over to the other side of the bed. He gently pulls up your sleeves and sees the fresh wounds on your arm. He closes his eyes and breathes, trying not to cry and wake you. He summons a first aid kit and treats the wounds on each arm and then wraps your arms in gauze. He cleans everything up and then sits back down, gently rubbing his claws through your hair. You slowly wake and see Husk there and smile, a bit confused.

“Sorry, I needed a nap.” You murmur, your voice scratchy.

“It’s all right, kid.” Husk smiles at you, the tears he’s been fighting back well up quickly. You look at him, concerned.

“Dad? What’s wrong?” You sit up quickly, your hand going to his face and swiping at one of the tears trailing down his face and then your eyes widen, seeing your arms bandaged. You piece everything together quickly. “How did you find out?”

“How did you expect me not to?” Husk asks, looking at you. Your own tears coming quickly.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can say before sobs overtake your body. Husk pulls you into him, wrapping his arms and wings around you.

“You don’t have ta be sorry. I just need you to talk to me. You promised last time you would. I’m never too busy for ya.” Husk says, pulling you back to look you in the eyes.

“I know, but there was so much going on… And I didn’t want to be a burden.” You whisper.

“You are never. Never a burden Y/N. You hear me?” Husk says fiercely. You nod, crying harder. “I will always be here for you. I will always be in your corner. I’ve got ya, night, day and even in double death.” You nod again, burying your face in the crook of his neck and clutching him to you. He hugs you tightly and kisses the top of your head.

“We’ll get through this, you and me, but we ain’t on our own anymore. There are others who love you and care about you so much, okay?” Husk asks you.

“I know. I know Dad. It’s just… hard sometimes.” You whisper, not looking at him.

“I know it is, but that’s why we have people we care about that we can lean on, ya know. That’s rare here.” Husk murmurs, holding you to him. “Just relax, you’re all right and we can talk more in a bit.” He says as he can feel you relaxing against him again. “Getcha somethin’ to eat and some water and talk about a plan.”

You sigh and whisper , “Okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #husker x reader #hazbin husker #hazbin hotel husker #hazbin husk x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #husk headcanons #husker hazbin hotel #husk x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #dad!husk x reader #dad!husk

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I had the worst Monday that could have ever existed. Onto Tuesday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"I trust this should be amenable to your work," Mr. Laufeyson holds open the door along the east wall of his study. One you've never opened before though you're familiar with the space within. The library also opens into the hallway and keeps you busier than many of the other rooms. "When you should require it. I expect much of your work will keep you afoot."

You peer past him, his tall figure like a second shadow. You clutch your kit tight and nod. You didn't exactly bring the tools for this new role.

"I should have a blank ledger somewhere, oh and a pen of course," he advises, "given our new... arrangement, I would require a contact point."

You nod and tear your attention from the full shelves and luxurious velvet chaise. You won't get to enjoy those but they give the space a much more welcome feel than the rest of the house. You face Mr. Laufeyson as he keeps the door propped open with his foot. He slides out his phone as if it's a task. 

"Never to worry, I wouldn't bother you much so long as you do your work adequately," he assures, "but in case of... emergency."

"Oh, erm," you sputter and reach into your hoodie pocket, revealing the tiny flip phone.

"Hm, vintage," he muses, "as you would."

He holds his phone, gesturing to it with his other hand. You teethe your lip before you recall the digits of your number. Your plan doesn't include a lot of talk minutes but he doesn't promise much of that. He keys them into his screen.

"You'll have mine," he taps his thumb and your phone chimes. "In case."

"Thanks, uh, Mr. Laufeyson."

"Mmmm," he hums again. "Suppose you would need some sort of proper device, a computer of sorts." He clucks and checks his watch, dropping his arm with a huff, "I've an important event shortly, I'll try to venture by the electronics shop before I return.”

You nod and fold your phone, slipping it away as you peek back into the library. He inhales deeply, "suppose you should begin. The list is on the writing desk.”

You accept the command easily. You’re even thankful for it. It gives you a proper reason to find distance. You go to the desk and look over the typed list. You don’t sit, hesitating as you wonder if it would seem lazy, maybe even presumptuous.

“Let me fetch that ledger,” he says before letting the door drift closed.

You run your finger over the top line. ‘Create a schedule’. Hmmm. You look over the bullets that fill the paper. You can only assume he refers to all of that. It’s straightforward, you can handle a schedule. It’s everything that comes after that gives you doubt.

“And you’ll have to review what my wife, ex that is, left in shambles,” Mr. Laufeyson interrupts as he pushes through again. “Her little folder is here. She was always fond of order, even though she left me in much less. This is what’s left of her handiwork,” he approaches coolly and sets down a plain fawn coloured ledger, a fountain pen, and a white folder with golden flowers on it.

“Thanks,” you eke out as his hands linger on the edges.

You sense his gaze, discerning and weighty. He leans forward slightly and you nearly take a step across as he points to the list. You follow the line of his arm and his extended finger.

“Another point to add, ‘acquire work attire’,” he instructs and turns his hand over, flippant flicking his finger in a gesture to your plain hoodie and worn gray denim. “I trust my pay should afford that necessity easily, however should you require a write-off, I suppose it could be argued as a professional expense.”

“Sorry, Mr. Laufeyson,” you frown in embarrassment, “I didn’t…” You look down at yourself, wanting to hide behind your arms. 

“You wouldn’t think of it, just a maid,” he dismisses, “very well, I think you have more than enough to begin. I should be some hours.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you agree. He is correct, there is more than enough to keep you busy.

“I will review the schedule upon my return,” he affirms. “Should you require refreshment, you recall where to go.”

You nod and cautiously reach for the ledger, sliding it closer as he backs up. You slowly sit, hovering before you let yourself rest. He lingers by the door as you roll the pen aside and put the ledger and folder parallel. You open the former and line up the list inside the cover, resuming your perusal of the bullet points.

The door closes and you keep your attention to the paper. You don’t dare a glance up until you hear his muffled footfalls cross his study. You feel as if he’s waiting for you to make a mistake. You think you might be too.

🧹

A clunk sharply pierces the tenuous peace of the empty house. You hadn’t heard the door or his approach, not even right next door, not until the hefty thunk. You listen but keep your nose down. 

You’re just about done with the schedule. Two cleans throughout the week to spread the duties evenly. The main floor on Mondays, and the upper on Thursday. You’ll be able to fit in an unexpected tidying between your other to-dos.

You flutter through the pretty white and gold folder. The embossed suede speaks of a sophisticated owner. You wonder why she would ever abandon it, though you assume, a separation may not inspire sentiment.

You turn over another note. This one about the gazebo. A blurb on a repair. You’ll have too go out and check to see if it was actually done, there’s no confirmation of the job. You stop to admire her loopy writing, as elegant as the folder.

The door opens without pretense. You sit up and wiggle the pen between your index and thumb. Mr. Laufeyson as a flat white box in his hand, along with a smaller one on top. He does not near you, instead place his lot on the square table by the window.

“Here,” he orders shortly.

You rise and leave the pen in the centre of the ledger. You cross to him as he moves the smaller box aside and unfolds the two smaller flaps from the large one. You can’t help but watch curiously.

“This should suffice,” he shimmies out the cardboard insert, revealing a sleek silver laptop, “hmm?”

He shifts it towards you and lets you look it over. You put your hands behind you to keep from touching. You lean in just a little.

“It looks nice, Mr. Laufeyson. Thank you.”

“For your work, of course. These days, it is a requirement. And this,” he takes the smaller box and offers it up, “a proper work phone. It is more professional. Any calls on my behalf, you will make on this. That relic you have won’t do much.”

“Uh, yes, Mr. Laufeyson, that’s really thoughtful.”

“Thoughtful? Practical. Company property, of course,” he insists, “another point to add. Set these up. They should be functioning by the end of the day. You’ll need them to keep up with the rest of your tasks.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson. I will put it on the list.”

“Mm,” he circles around you, striding to the writing desk before you can react. You follow at a few paces, not wanting to crowd him. He takes the pen and uncaps it. He adds the bullet himself. “There you are.”

“Thank you, Mr. Laufeyson,” you recite again.

He snaps the lid on the pen and his lips twitch, not quite curving, “I’ll review,” he snatches up the open ledger, your schedule open to see. You almost rush forward. You meant to rewrite it before you handed it over. It has scribbles all over it. You won’t argue.

“Go on,” he steps around the desk, waving to the side dismissively.

You return to the table and gather the laptop and phone, along with the stray box. You bring them back to the writing desk and stay standing as you free the laptop from the insert. You let your eyes edge along the top of your vision as Mr. Laufeyson sits on the chaise and browses the ledger.

You refocus and investigate the cord buried in the box as a collection of booklets fall out. You sort through them and find the one in English. You start on the front page, reading over the different buttons and features. The diagram is especially helpful. You’ve never had a computer before, not that it belongs to you.

You squint as you read the precautions. Your mind flits back and forth between your current task and everything beyond. You would go to the library sometimes and spend an hour on the PC, and in school you did all your work in the resource room. This is much fancier than any of the boxy computers you’d used before.

It says you should plug it in and charge to full before booting. You unravel the cord and search for an outlet against the wall. There’s one not far. You hook up the cord to the port on the side of the slender laptop then trail it to the wall. The little light on the side glows yellow.

Then you take the little box. A phone. The flip phone was second-hand but this is shiny and new. You’re like a kid at Christmas, not that you got much for the holiday, even when you were younger.

You slide out the small device. Your hand is unused to it. It’s not clunky like your phone. It feels easy to drop even if it’s bigger than the flip. You peel off the plastic film around the border and across the screen.

You take out the booklet and read it as closely as the first. Same thing; charge before use. You don’t want to mess up any of this. You plug it in above the computer and place it on the closed lid. You carefully sit in the chair, careful not to jostle the cords.

You peek up and find Mr. Laufeyson looking at you over the top of the ledger. His green eyes gleam and flick back down to the page. You hope he doesn’t see how clueless you are. This stuff that’s all so normal to everyone else is new to you. A job alone is a novelty still.

“You may ask it,” he says abruptly.

You wince and shrug. You don’t know what he means. His brows tweak in amusement.

“You’ve not asked about time off. I am unaware of your previous commitment, what days you had to yourself.”

You didn’t think of it but he does seem to think of everything. You twiddle your fingers on the desk. You would work as much as you need to. You still haven’t seen the final hospital bill.

“Mr. Laufeyson, I worked three shifts per week, but I was on probation,” you explain carefully, “I can work more than that.”

“How much is more?” He wonders, his thumb tapping the corner of the ledger.

You blink. You don’t know what’s appropriate. You don’t want to say too little and come off lazy, or say too much and seem ignorant. 

“Six?” You utter, “six days, Mr. Laufeyson?”

His thumb stills, “per week?”

You nod. His eyes narrow and his lips thin in consideration.

“Should do,” he accepts and his eyes fall back to the page.

You think you got the right answer. You look down at the bullet points. It seems like a lot written out but surely it can’t be. Besides, the more you think about it, the more exciting it is. This house is so beautiful and this list means you get to explore it.

You don’t sink too deep into the moment of optimism. Mr. Laufeyson stands, still intent on the ledger. He paces blindly around the library, a click of his tongue as he reviews your handwriting.

“There will be some nights,” he intones, “other occasions where I require you in the evening.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you accept as you flutter the pages of the laptop instruction booklet.

“Mm,” he hums flatly, “I do think the cook liked you, didn’t she? Suppose we might retain that service for the time being.”

You nod and make a note in the corner of the list; simply, Corissa. He shuts the ledger and grips it tight. He walks around the table then turns back, coming back to you. He lays down the book on the desk.

“I won’t know until the day in question. You understand, this would be on-call. I’ve a busy life and so will you,” he girds, leaning on the book as he bends over the desk. “You will be doing more than watching little birds flapping around the garden.”

You nearly recoil as he plucks the memory out so precisely. That was careless of you. You should’ve kept your head down and just got to work. It’s a warning you’ll remember.

“I won’t, Mr. Laufeyson, I understand,” you assure.

“Not to say that you can’t,” he stands and pushes the bottom of his jacket back, hooking his thumbs in his pockets, “but only when there are no other pressing matters.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

He sighs and tilts his head back, “you must resist distractions. You are prone to it. I’ve noticed.”

You chew your lip and accept the remonstrance. You’ll take it instead as advice. He is right, you do find yourself bewitched by this place at times.

“Like that man,” he says staunchly, “don’t think I forgot. I will warn you, he is my brother… regrettably. He is well above the staff and he knows it.”

You take the hint. It’s improper of you to stare. Even if he had touched you. Or maybe, you misinterpreted an accident.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Hear me when I tell you, he is not interested in the likes of you,” he sniffs, “with any luck, he won’t be much around for you to believe anything of the like.”

You nod and pick up the pen, nervously rolling it between your fingers. His reproach scalds your cheek. To think he assumes you would ever think of something like that. That you might encourage a stranger in that way.

He watches you for a moment before he spins away. He checks the time on his wrist as you reach for the ledger.

“Very well, I must be at my own work,” he declares, “as I trust you will be diligent in your own.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

[doll3tt33]

╰➜ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ┆idk just existing┆⊹ ࣪ ˖

she/her 𝜗𝜚 libra ☉ libra ☾ sag ↑ 𝜗𝜚 lives off of lana, c.ai, and the thought of kai anderson rearranging my insides

my most recent fic/hc! - my haunted lungs, ghost in the sheets ❥ colin zabel

everybody knows I’m a good girl, officer ❥ colin zabel

‘cause when you know you know ❥ colin zabel

my most recent c.ai bot! - gimme ‘em gold coins! ❥ stan bowes

I’d be the prom queen if crying was a contest ❥ peter maximoff

when I’m down on my knees, you’re how I pray ❥ kai anderson

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angst/dark themes - ✮ sfw - ❀ (might lead to) nsfw - ✧

c.ai filter breaking tut: pt.1, pt.2

Kai Anderson:

𝜗𝜚 Fanfics:

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𝜗𝜚 Headcanons:

Kai Anderson SFW headcanons ❀

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Kai coming up to you at a bookstore ❀

Kai “accidentally” spilling his coffee all over you ❀

⇢ I recommend the bookstore one over the coffee one if u r looking for a standard Kai bot to use, cuz the former’s settings are improved ((but like the coffee one’s still aight ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Colin Zabel:

𝜗𝜚 Fanfics:

Everybody knows I’m a good girl, officer ✧

My haunted lungs, ghost in the sheets ✧

‘Cause when you know you know ❀

𝜗𝜚 AI bots:

Having your first session with therapist!Colin ❀

Professor!Colin teaching you on your first day of college ❀

Peter Maximoff:

Peter challenging you to Pac-Man at the arcade ❀

Chilling with Peter in his room ❀

You’re both lonely on prom night so Peter invites you to join him ❀

Stan Bowes:

You’re the daughter of Stan’s boss and he has to pick you up from a party ❀

Having your first ever dinner with sugardaddy!Stan ❀

Interrupting Stan in the middle of work ❀

Austin Sommers:

paparazzi!Austin who won’t stop pestering you ❀

Kyle Spencer:

Frankenkyle showing up at your doorstep in the middle of the night ❀

You’re a new witch at the academy and you’re responsible for Frankenkyle ❀

Studying alone with frat!Kyle at the campus library ❀

frat!Kyle comes up to you at a college party on New Year’s Eve ❀

Tate Langdon:

Helping Tate after he gets bullied at school ❀

Tate walking in on you playing a ritual game ❀

Dealing with an emotionally unstable Tate after your break up (based off the song ‘Meant to Be Yours’ from Heathers: The Musical) ✮

Kit Walker:

singledad!Kit hiring you as a babysitter ❀

Kit taking all the blame for you at the asylum ✮

bartender!Kit serving you a free drink ❀

Getting steamy with husband!Kit in the kitchen ✧

Luke Cooper:

Luke getting everyone’s coffee orders wrong but yours ❀

#masterlist #c.ai #c.ai bot #c.ai chats #c.ai creator #character.ai #c.ai shenanigans #character ai bot #ai bots #ahs #american horror story #evan peters #ahs fandom #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson #kyle spencer #kyle spencer x reader #colin zabel #colin zabel x reader #stan bowes #stan bowes x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #quicksilver #austin sommers #tate langdon

[aerkame]

Hi, I hope you're having a wonderful day!!!! How would Wally and the others in your Alive AU react if Reader had a coworker or friend that was romantically interested in them? Would they just get really clingy or even aggressive, especially considering they're confined inside the house?

I am! I went skating for a long while outside and got a Starscream model kit to put together later. :) (Short fic takes place in the Alive AU)

Jealous! Everyone x reader

__________________________________________________________

It started with flowers. One day out of the blue you had came home with a huge bouquet of beautiful roses. Julie was the first to ask where you got them, they were just so pretty! You told them it was from a coworker at the public library, he was really polite and gave you these roses as a gift...you were blind to say the least, not seeing it as a romantic gesture. But the romantic gift did not go unnoticed by your colorful guests.

Poppy told you she was already preparing dinner for tonight which was a relief honestly, you felt exhausted. Two pairs of arms pulled you close for a hug, recognizing them as Julie and Sally, the two hyper sunshines of your life. "Hey there host, we reeeeaaallly wanna show you something!" Julie was practically jumping with joy while Sally let go to grab something, coming back with a stereo to play music on. The two put on a dance that almost resulted in a vase being broken, but Barnaby's soft paws were there to catch it just in time.

"How about we all dance together?" Barnaby gave you a warm smile, he always knew how to warm your heart. Holding out his paw you took hold of it, joining in the dance with the three goofballs.

During dinner, Poppy came up to you with a delicious looking small cake and placed it right in front of you. "I made you some dessert deary, eat up!" You looked down confused "But what about the others?" However, when you looked back at the table everyone had already gone to do their own activities (or so you assumed) and Poppy just sat there smiling. Soon after that awkward dinner Eddie cornered you in the hallway one arm leaning on the wall and the other holding a neatly folded letter with red hearts all over it. "Here you are sweets, Frank and I wrote this just for you." You firmly grasped the paper and unfolded it. It was a beautifully written poem about you. "Wow, thank you Eddie I don't know what to say, this is very well written! I love it." Eddie gave you a small kiss on the head like he always did and the tip of a hat before walking downstairs whistling a small tune.

Later that night Howdy came by the bathroom as soon as you got out of the shower to gift you with the shiniest apple you've ever laid eyes on. You questioned where he got it from but Howdy only responded with "It's a secret! Just know that it's 100% off for you!" You couldn't say no to that goofy grin of his, plus he was just so happy to give it to you! You took it from him with a warm smile on your face... Also because his giant body was blocking you from leaving.

Once you finally managed to get by the giant caterpillar with your new gift you went to your room to settle down and sleep, rolling around a bit in the sheets until you got comfortable enough and closed your tired eyes.

Not even a minute after closing your eyes you felt the bed dip beside yourself and a long arm snaked over your torso. Only one person you know does that. "Wally, what are you doing?"

"I'm just cuddling my dearest host to sleep is all.~" You peeked open an eye after hearing that. He always did this when he wanted something out of it. "What do you want?"

"Nothing at all! You're the most I could ever ask for...buuut since you brought it up, you might as well do me a teeny tiny favor." You rolled in bed, turning yourself towards his chest, you were too cozy to care about the intimacy. "Hmh?" You hummed in acknowledgment.

"Stop talking to Derrek."

You sat up immediately. Not once did you tell anyone who it was that you've been talking to. "How did you-" a finger shushed you. "I know about him, and I want you to stay away. Can you do that for me darling?" He smiled coyly, but really it felt like he was threatening you. "No...Wally I can't just ghost someone like that. Besides we're just friends." The arm around you tightened as you squirmed to get out of your own bed. "Oh I know, but I would really love it if you two would quit talking. I don't think he's right for you."

Your eyes narrowed at him, for once the cocky bastard didn't look so cocky. "Wally...are you jealous? Is that what all of this is about? The gifts, the dancing, the constant cuddle sessions from you and everyone else here?" You watched his body go rigid and his face scrunch up into what was almost a frown. Wow, he's actually kind of frowning for once. That was rare.

"Wally, we're not a thing. Derrek and I are just friends and I don't intend to ever date him. I'm glad you and the others really care about me this much but you really shouldn't worry about my safety." You spoke more softly, finally understanding where he was coming from. The iron grip on your waist didn't falter though and you felt yourself suddenly being forced into a bear hug.

Julie swatted Barnaby's long tie out of her face so she could lean in closer to the door to listen. Everyone else did their best not to make any noise as they listened in.

"Look, if it makes you feel any better I'll just tell him we're nothing more than friends and to keep it at that, but I can't just cut people out of my life like that...alright?"

An audible groan left everyone's mouth hearing that, startling you and Wally both. Silly host, how can you be so blind to love?

Looks like the dear reader doesn't understand just how much everyone loves them yet! Personally I don't think any of them would be the type to hurt you or others EXCEPT for Wally. I think they would probably just try to shower you with their love to make you like them more...however, if you are straying too far from them they may need to find a way to make you a permanent resident at the house, just not at your house. They've got a nice place just for you back Home.

#Welcome home arg #welcome home #welcome home x reader #everyone x reader #wh #welcome home fanfiction #requests open #welcome home wally darling #welcome home sally #welcome home julie joyful #welcome home barnaby #welcome home wally darling x reader #welcome home barnaby x reader #welcome home frank x reader #welcome home eddie x reader #welcome home sally x reader #welcome home julie x reader #welcome home poppy x reader #welcome home howdy x reader #Alive au #au #welcome home au #welcome home alive au

[givemea-dam-break]

hello my love <3 can i request fluff with lockwood where y/n is sick and she also has injury on her hand (something like lucy's maybe?) and when lockwood wants to clean it she's not happyy about that 'cause she only wants to sleep and he's like "i'm your fully qualified doctor, remember? you have to listen to me, love", btw i absolutely adore your stories, keep writing cause you're amazingg, mwah <3

a/n: of course!!! domestic lockwood is the best in my humble opinion. and im so glad you like my stuff so much, love you my dear <3 also taking this as an opportunity to apologise for the terrible titles for most of my fics i spend ages thinking but can never think of something good lmao

warnings: minor injury detail gn reader

Perfect - Anthony Lockwood

The library is the warmest room in the house, and by far your favourite, so it's no surprise when Lockwood finds you there, curled up on your designated armchair close to dozing. He smiles at you as he steps in, carrying a tray of something or other that he places down on the little coffee table before sitting in his armchair.

There's something about him today that makes you want to laugh. Maybe it's the way he's been mothering you all day because you're ill. Maybe it's the lack of Anthony Lockwood professionalism he has today, what with his crinkled hoodie and pink fluffy socks - aren't those the ones George has been looking for? He's so unlike his usual self today, but also inadvertently just like himself. A walking anomaly.

"How are you feeling now?" he asks quietly, as if your ears may explode if he speaks too loud. "Any better?"

"No better than I did seven minutes ago," you say with a laugh. "Lockwood, you don't have to keep a constant eye on me. You've got things to do."

"One of which being to take care of you," he says. "Which reminds me, are you finally going to let me take a look at that cut on your arm? It needs cleaning."

"I trust you with my life, but I do not trust you with the first aid kit. You'll shove half a tube of Germaline on it. Besides, I want to go to sleep, and here is cosier than my room."

He gives you a look, but it's halfhearted. "You can sleep once I've cleaned it. I've brought you some of your favourite biscuits and a brew in return."

You lift your head from where it had laid on your arms. "Doesn't sound like a very fair trade for you."

"Ah, I'll cope."

"Well, it doesn't hurt anymore. I'm sure it's healed amazingly and then I'll be back to my wonderful self in no time."

"I'm not leaving until I've at least taken a look at it. Then after that, you can have your tea and go to sleep." His grin is dazzling then. It's the kind he always uses when he's trying to get his way. "I'm your fully qualified doctor, remember? You've got to listen to me."

If you could be bothered, you could push for him to leave you in peace, but your head feels like it's full of water and you want to go to sleep. So, begrudgingly, you shift so that your arm hangs over the armrest of your chair.

The gentleness of Lockwood's hands as he takes your arm and slowly, carefully peels off the plaster you haphazardly placed on shocks you. His fingers are soft, holding your arm as if it's a delicate thing that could break at any moment.

He takes a minute to just look at the gash on your forearm. It's no longer than your index finger, cutting diagonally across halfway up, and it's still oozing some blood. The plaster is covered in it, and he deftly throws it into the bin before taking his little first aid kit from the tray he brought in. Its original purpose was for you to use it on him whenever he got banged up on cases, which was more often than not, but there's something strangely special about him using it on you now. It makes you feel a little giddy.

"You got this from a glass door, right?"

You're acutely aware of his touch as he shifts his grip so as to clean the cut. "Yeah. George knocked me into it by accident. I'm surprised this is all I got out of it."

His reply comes in the form of a quiet hum. As he cautiously cleans the wound, you watch as his brows furrow a little with concentration, creasing a little line between them, and his top lip twitches a little bit. A little quirk, you've noticed, when he's particularly invested in something. Usually, it's the latest gossip rag, in which he always loses sight of the real world, but now it's you. A small flutter arises in your chest.

He wipes over a small part of the gash, and you suck in a sharp breath. The sound makes him falter, the wipe hovering an inch above your skin as he looks up at you.

For a moment, then, you forget about the pain. Through his thick lashes, his eyes are brimmed with worry and apologies, but after insistence that you're fine, he continues to clean the fresh blood away.

"Let me put the cream on the plaster," you murmur. "You'll put way too much on."

He smiles. "Who's the qualified doctor here?"

"In all honesty, Skull is probably better at this kind of thing than you are."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

"Do."

But, even still, he passes you the tube of Germaline and a long plaster. A moment later, you pass it back, and with delicate hands, he places it over the gash. It stings a little, and you hiss at the sudden cold, but the feelings are gone before the minute is even over.

"Perfect," he says with a soft, private smile. "All sorted."

His hand lingers, still holding your arm, and you suddenly feel more awake than ever. It's as if the tiredness has just melted away into the cushions of the armchair and down into the floor with only his touch, and you yearn for him to not let go. To stay exactly where he is.

And, as if having read your mind, he does.

If someone were to walk in, the scene would be strange. You, curled up in your seat with your arm hanging over the armrest, head resting on your own shoulder, and Lockwood, holding your arm as if it's some valuable thing, and simply looking at you with those expressive eyes of his.

"How do you feel?" he asks. His voice is a little breathy.

You're trying not to focus on the feeling of his fingers slipping down your arm until they almost - almost - slot in between yours. You shift slightly so that your head is in a position that isn't causing a crick in your neck, and it only grants a better view of him. His dark hair glowing bronze in the firelight, the ever so faint freckles on his nose, the dip in the left corner of his lip that insinuates another smile.

"A little better." The words almost catch in your throat when his fingers curl around yours just so. They don't hold yours, but they're so, so close. You can feel his pulse - or is that yours beating wildly out of control? "Do you have any paracetamol?"

He takes a second to realise what you've just said, and his hand leaves yours as he rakes about in the first aid kit for the painkillers. Out of pure mothering ability, he pops two out of the packet and hands them to you along with your mug of tea. Not the nicest thing to swallow them down with, but it'll do.

"You need to be more careful on cases," Lockwood says.

"Tell that to George. He's the one who bumped into me." Then, you shrug. "I suppose I shouldn't have gone when I've got the worst head cold I've had in yonks."

A breathy laugh escapes his lips, and you notice how he's looking down at your hand.

It's a bold move, completely unlike you, but you reach for his hand, looping your fingers through his. His hand is warm and, yes, that's definitely your erratic pulse.

It takes a lot to catch Lockwood off guard, but that does the trick. For a moment, it's like he can't decide whether or not to look at your linked hands or at you, and you laugh at the sight of it.

"This is wholly inappropriate," he jokes. "Doctors and patients shouldn't do anything remotely like this."

You must be out of your mind entirely because you lean over and press a kiss to his knuckles. "What about that?"

The expression on his face reminds you of when the TV signal has gotten busted, and the four-person-army of Lockwood and Co, plus a glowing and crude Skull, are sitting around it angrily waiting for it to stop buffering. When the picture freezes, glitches a little bit, and buffers for even longer. You can almost see the buttons and wires in his mind, struggling to compute what you just did.

That's not to say you aren't the complete same. Truthfully, you shocked yourself with the kiss, and you sit here now, staring at the spot where your lips touched his skin.

You're ill, you remind yourself. Maybe he'll pass it off as delusion.

"Would you mind if I weren't your doctor for a little?"

Frowning a little, confused, you say, "No...?"

You've never seen a person move as fast as Lockwood does then. Before you know it, he's leaning over your entwined hands and his lips are brushing yours so softly, giving you room to move if it's something you don't want. But you do. You want it more than anything.

Everything seems to melt away at the moment you press your lips firmly onto his. The library, the fireplace filled with dancing orange flames, your horrible cold, the sting of anti-septic cream on your fresh cut. You're aware only of his lips on yours, his fingers twisted in yours, the warmth of his hand. Every nerve in your body feels as though it's about to combust. Your heart is practically beating through your chest. God, your hands are awfully sweaty.

Only a moment later, he pulls away, but his face stays so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your cheek.

You want to say something romantic, maybe something smart or snarky like you usually would, but all you can think of is, "You're going to get a cold now."

"It's just as well we have Skull, then, huh?" His laugh is soft and airy, and you could catch it between your lips if you so wished. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

His gaze flickers between your eyes and lips, and you're positive that if he weren't holding your hand right now, you'd implode in a burst of sparks and fireworks.

"Well, if you're so sure -"

Knowing where the sentence is going, he presses his lips to yours once more, and it's perfect.

#anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

[jen-with-a-pen]

ALL TIED UP - FIVE

Previous ⊹ Series

summary: Steve's night is made when his barista ends up sharing a class with him. But Steve's paranoia gets the best of him– can he really trust his gut?

pairings: Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!Reader

word count: 2.66k

warnings: flirting, fluff, hand holding, closeness, steve is adorable when he's nervous, paranoia, unease, cursing, barista lore™

a/n: had fun writing this one as we build up to friday! i might be switching the days/chapters around in the next few, but we'll see. depends on the depravity of my brain 😈

gif by @paliaphrodite | additional graphics + dividers by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist | all tied up masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Last Thursday.

Learning how to draw, when he already knows how to draw, makes Steve feel bad at drawing.

Sitting in the lecture hall of the art school, he doodles over the half-assed notes he manages to take during the first thirty minutes of class. Usually, he loves Drawing 101; it’s his easiest, only late-night class each week and one of the only times he can relax without worrying about one of the brothers barging in with another stupid homework question. Usually, it's just him, his earbuds turned up a touch too high, and whatever subjects the instructor places in front of him. On Thursday nights, nothing stands between him, an easel, and two straight hours of sketching pots and people. 

Except when a said-Thursday night happens to fall on ‘mandatory lecture’ day.

It hasn’t been an hour when Steve gives up trying to force himself to focus, instead choosing to mindlessly doodle over and around the page. The Drawing 101 guest professor continues to drone on about different types of graphite in the pencils kits Steve and twenty-odd other kids in the course were forced to buy. Steve doesn’t understand– nor does he particularly give a shit– as to why a 3H pencil is better over a 3B pencil, or how using an 8B pencil isn’t preferred over a 7B pencil.

A pencil is a fucking pencil.

Steve sighs, failing to stifle a yawn. No amount of coffee– not even the triple espresso concoction his barista had him try earlier that day– could save him from falling asleep in this godforsaken, decades-old room with dimmed lights and sporadically-filled seats scattered amongst the vast sea of empty ones. Honestly, nobody ever came to monthly lectures, save for when their usual professor mentioned the material would be part of their written midterms. Guest lecturers result in a lesser turnout, too, and Steve partially wishes he’d chosen to spend it back at the café or in the library. As the professor continues on to the next type of pencil, the double doors at the back of the room creak open. Still dazed in a bored stupor, Steve cranes his neck over his shoulder to see which unlucky bastard is almost an hour late to the snoozefest. 

He immediately wakes up, shooting up in his seat as if a bucket of ice water were splashed on him. He can’t believe what he sees: it’s her. Her. His barista. 

Mouth agape, he stares as she slowly closes the doors, careful not to draw too much attention to her late arrival. When nobody bothers to acknowledge her, she makes her way down the carpeted steps of the lecture hall in search of refuge in an empty seat. Her eyes dart across the aisles, desperate for just one, inconspicuous place that will draw the least attention. 

As she combs the rows with a furrowed brow and bottom lip slipping adorably between her teeth, Steve realizes he’s got some sort of a chance. Eyes dart to the professor, then back to her. Steve subtly raises a hand, waving to get her attention. Locking eyes, she finally sees him. Relief and surprise replace her bitten lip with a beaming smile. Steve’s heart soars, skipping far more than several beats. He doesn’t– he can’t– take his eyes off her as she quickly shuffles through the row of seats, plopping down next to him and dropping a tote bag at her feet. She pulls out a purple notebook and pen, slouching back into her seat with a relieved sigh, knee brushing gently against Steve’s. A ghost of the sweetest-smelling perfume drifts into his nostrils and he has the urge to replace his oxygen supply with it.

Steve feels like he’s dreaming. Cloud nine, light as a feather, the whole fucking nine yards. He skims over her features in the dim light of the lecture hall– the curve of her lips as she whispers to herself, flipping through the pages of her notebook, trying to find a blank spot; her eyelashes that flick up and down as she copies down the date and class number. He trails down her neck, crossing over the gold bar necklace she wears every day, to her shoulders and arms, her hands. When his eyes drift back up to her face, she’s staring back. Heat blooms in his cheeks and nerves constrict his chest in embarrassment. She smirks, shaking her head and turning her attention to the professor’s current ramblings on B and HB pencils. Steve opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it.

What would he even say? How would he get away with trying to talk to her in the middle of the lecture? The professor would hear him, he’d get called out, everyone would see him–

She huffs, turning to another blank notebook page. Steve side-eyes her as she quietly tears the page out and scribbles something on the first line. Side-eyeing Steve, a small smile pulls at the corners of her lips as she discreetly slides the paper over to him.

hi stranger.

Steve can’t help but grin. It spills across his lips as more heat blooms, trailing up his ears and down his neck. Trying not to seem too eager, he clicks his own pen and scrawls a response. The professor’s voice fades into background noise, going through one ear and out the other. He’s a goner and so is Steve.

YOURE THE STRANGER, STRANGER

He slides the paper back to her. She scoffs a laugh, smile growing wider. 

last minute class drop + switch. u know how it is.

TRUE. DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE AN ART KID

She shakes her head, quickly scribbling when Steve cocks his head, mouthing a ‘what?’

film kid. have to take art class for credit. only one available.

Steve’s surprised at her response, nodding once he thinks it over. It makes sense. 

She makes sense.

It fits her. It fits the way she moves, the way she carries herself, the ease in which she comes up with witty comebacks. It’s then and there Steve really thinks about the contrast between the two of them– the way he’s perceived versus how he perceives her. He’s a frat brother, a six-foot-two guy with muscles he doesn’t know how to use yet, and a lifelong artist who doesn’t fit in– no matter how much he tries to claw and fight his way out of the hole people dig and throw him in.

If anything, he doesn’t make sense. 

Brow furrowing and jaw set, Steve’s caught in the downward spiral he’s been fighting to keep at bay since coming to Richards– since he pledged his life away to Sigma Theta Beta and the never-ending identity crisis the brothers force upon him every waking moment. But, it’s with her that he feels more like himself than anywhere else in the goddamned world. It’s with her he wants to– willingly– be himself. He wants to be himself with her.

He, however, doesn’t realize the hack job he’s performing on his poor cheek tissue until a soft hand covers his, squeezing lightly. Warmth spreads like wildfire across Steve’s skin, breaking him free and bringing him back to the real world. Concern veils over his barista’s expression; her soft, searching gaze jumps between his baby blues.

‘You okay?’ she mouths, studying him, hand still on his. Her brow twitches upwards when he still doesn’t respond. Steve holds up an index finger and goes back to responding on the paper. 

SORRY. LOT ON MY MIND

She nods heavily in agreement. 

same. pencildick up there is putting me to sleep. how do you even do it?

Steve bites a laugh back. 

DRAWING, COUNTING THE CLOCK

Before she takes it back Steve adds,

AND NOW YOU.

Her smile is bright enough to light up the darkened lecture hall. 

Two whole pages are filled by the time class lets out. Front and back. 

Steve allows his barista to take the lead in following other students out of the lecture hall. Buzzing conversations reveal a shared eagerness to get the hell out of there and go spend the rest of their Thursday night doing something else more worthy of their precious time. Steve slings his bag over his shoulder as he follows close behind, verbally continuing their written conversation about her shift from earlier in the day and swapping ridiculous ways on how they’ll manage to work every type of pencil into their midterm.

As he plods next to her, Steve fights an innate urge to place a light hand on her lower back to guide her out on their way to the parking lot. Instead, he gets the door, jokingly half-bowing with an outstretched arm to the second set of double doors. Continuing out of the building, Steve takes a breath, deciding now is the perfect time to ask if she’s busy tonight. Instead, though, she stops abruptly. Steve runs directly into her, arms jutting out instinctively to steady both of them out of sheer instinct. Grabbing her shoulders, she spins around to face him, closer to his chest than either realized.

Steve feels his ears turn red again. She looks up at him, blinking before taking a step back, lips parting slightly. An awkward beat hangs in the air before Steve clears his throat and rubs his neck.

"You, uh,” he swallows, preparing himself for the inevitable, “You maybe wanna go grab a bite t’eat, or somethin’?" 

Her eyes widen, lips twitching at the corners. She looks like she’s about to answer before quickly realizing something, as if internally scolding herself for even looking excited. Pressing her lips together, her eyes dart back to her phone.

"Shit, I–" she quickly types a response and shoves it back in her pocket, exhaling in frustration. 

"What is it?"

"I would love to, Steve. I really would, but," she closes her eyes and sighs, "I can't. My sisters need me back at the house. They said it’s an ‘emergency.’" She adds sarcastic air quotes, rolling her eyes. 

"Oh!” Relief fills Steve’s chest, thankful she’s not purposefully blowing him off with some shitty excuse. “Okay, no yeah, I–I totally get it, family can be-"

She smiles softly, shaking her head and taking his hand to run a thumb over his knuckles. The gesture is so casual, so soft, yet it sends goosebumps up Steve’s arm. 

"Oh, no. No, they're not my actual sisters. They're, um, my sorority sisters." She flinches as 'sorority' leaves her lips.

Steve blanches, swallowing a disbelieving laugh. He can't help the lopsided smile spreading across his face. He can’t help taking both her hands in his and holding them in excitement. The odds of it– all of it– all the things, of all the people, she’s the one to make him feel less alone. She’s the one that understands everything.

He tries, and fails, to contain his excitement.

"No, I– I completely get it. My frat brothers are insufferable and I'm the newest pledge, so–"

It’s her turn to blanche. "You? You’re a new pledge, too?"

"Yeah, I, uh, I’m required by my scholarship–"

"Oh thank God it's not just me!"

"There's one for sisters, too?" Steve gawks. He’s truly in shock at the audacity of Richards to make any student required to endure the circle of Hell that is Greek life. He squeezes her hands. She matches him.

"Of course there is, meathead,” she snorts. “Title nine, or whatever the hell."

Steve nods. "I can’t tell you how glad I am not to be alone in this. It's fucked up, but maybe not as much now that I know you're in the same boat as me."

He pulls her ever-so-slightly closer. She lets him.

"Guess that makes you the Jack to my Rose."

Steve furrows his bro, cocking his head like a confused puppy. 

"Oh God– Don't tell me you've never seen Titanic," she gasps, feigning offense and sending Steve off course, thinking he’s fucked up somehow.

Sarcasm isn’t his strong suit.

"I, uh– no, not that I know of. I–I mean I've heard of the Titanic, but I don't remember the– well I know there's a movie, but I–" 

She laughs, full and genuine, stepping forward as her hands leave his, placing one on his shoulder. Her touch is soft, gentle, more comforting than anything he’s ever felt. 

"I'll show ya some time. Don't worry."

Squeezing his bicep, her fingertips glide down to his hand, grazing his fingers for the slightest moment before slipping between them, lacing them together. Electricity shoots up Steve's arm. Without another word she leads him out of the building, walking down the sidewalk lit by the moon rising overhead and scattered street lamps illuminating the parking lot. 

Steve decides then and there he’ll go wherever she takes him. Anywhere. Everywhere.

She stops at the edge of the parking lot and turns to him. "This is where I leave ya, my car’s over yonder.” She nods to a blue sedan with a Richards sticker on the back windshield sitting underneath one of the street lamps. “Plus, I’d like to save you walkin’ me to my car for another night.”

Butterflies. Steve nods. She scoffs a laugh.

“Text me, meathead. I'll see ya tomorrow?"

“Tomorrow.”

She releases his hand in slow motion and Steve hopes she’s relishing every bit of physical contact with him as he is with her. He heads to his own car parked in the darker side of the lot under the shadows of the perimeter trees and dimmer lamps, swaying languidly and ambling across the pavement in a trance. Steve makes a note to himself: watch more movies, because he sure feels like he's in one. 

The trance is broken when a split second of what sounds like a scream echoes over the lot and is snuffed out just as abruptly as it started. 

Steve freezes, key halfway into unlocking the driver’s side door. Ears prick up, breath held firm in his chest. Turning over his shoulder, he gasps, startled as a blue car– her car– slowly backs out from under the streetlamp and exits onto the road casually. Steve watches it disappear from view. The sound of the engine gunning it down the road leaves Steve alone in the dark, a sick uneasiness pooling in his gut.

He gets in his car, tossing his bag into the passenger seat and pulling out his phone.

You okay? Did you hear that?

Steve turns the engine over and throws the car into drive, foot hard on the brake before checking her text back. 

Hear what? I’m okay! :)

The uneasiness doesn’t leave him. She doesn’t usually text like that. 

“Fuck, get a grip, Steve,” he mutters to himself, resting his head against the steering wheel. He takes a second to gather himself and calm his nerves. The paranoia he’s been trained to feel thanks to his brothers, in combination with the fear of fucking everything up with his barista tonight, must be mixing together and clashing against every active nerve in his body. He’s fine. She’s fine.

She’s obviously driving right now, of course she wouldn’t fucking text how she normally does. She’s probably using voice text. Calm. Down.

Steve sends another text before tossing his phone into the passenger’s seat, the unease refusing to dissipate. He turns on the radio, turning up the song blasting from the speakers in a sorry attempt to silence his racing thoughts. 

No big deal. Get home safe.

His phone stays silent the rest of the night. It stays silent as he gets home, as he throws a bowl of ramen together, as he throws himself onto his bed and flips open his laptop to watch some random brainrot he finds on Netflix. 

He nods off, letting himself be taken by exhaustion as the uneaten bowl of ramen sits on his desk, growing colder, while the dim computer light and hum of dialogue pull Steve further and further into a dreamless sleep.

His phone dies silently in his hand. 

#All Tied Up #All Tied Up Series #Big Red Bow Series #Steve Rogers POV #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #modern steve rogers #artist steve rogers #college!au #modern!au #steve rogers series #slowburn #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #fic #jen writes #chris evans characters #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans series #captain america x reader #fluff #angst

[togrowoldinv]

Stuffed Animal Emergency

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

When her daughter’s stuffed animal rips, Natasha comes to the rescue

Note: Very very soft mama Nat. Follow my library blog @togrowoldinvlibrary for fic updates! Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

Natasha is in her home office catching up on some paperwork when she hears little feet coming down the hallway.

She rubs her temples as she turns in her chair to face the doorway. She can’t lie that she’s been exhausted since you left for a business trip. Taking care of two kids on her own and working has been taxing.

But the second she sees her daughter at the doorway, she smiles at her preciousness.

“Mama, my doggie ripped,” the little girl says with a frown. She’s holding the stuffed animal at her side. Natasha can’t help but notice how much she looks like you when she’s pouty.

“Come here, malyshka,” Natasha holds her arms out to her.

The girl takes refuge in the safest place in the world. Nat kisses her head.

“Alright, let me see them,” Natasha says. Ali hands her stuffed dog to Nat. She inspects it to see a rip next to its ear. It would be an easy fix for you, Natasha thinks, but she doesn’t have any experience in sewing.

Ali taps Nat’s cheek to get her attention, a silly habit she probably learned from a tv show.

“Can you fix it? Please Mama,” she asks. Her puppy dog eyes are doing wonders for her case to have it fixed. Natasha holds her tighter and checks the time. It’s late, but not too late to call you she decides.

She reaches for her phone and clicks on your contact. The phone rings until you answer it.

“Hey there’s my girls,” you answer with a smile.

“Hi Mommy,” Ali greets you. She looks sleepy as she leans on Nat’s shoulder.

“She should be asleep, I know,” Nat reads your mind. “But we have a bit of an issue.”

You notice Ali frown and Nat holds up the stuffed dog to the camera. It’s ripped, but not too badly.

“Oh, I can fix it when I get home, love,” you tell her. That’s not soon enough. She starts crying softly and it breaks your heart.

Natasha wipes her tears and tries to calm her down.

“Sorry about this,” she mumbles to you through the phone.

“That’s okay. Hey Ali,” you try to get her attention. She barely glances at the camera, but you go on. “I think Mama could help fix them tonight. Is that better?”

She perks up at that, looking up to Natasha who has a blank expression on her face that screams what are you getting me into.

“Oh, I don’t think I’m-“

“I’ll walk you through it, baby,” you assure her.

You tell her where to find your sewing kit and instruct her the best you can over FaceTime how to fix it. Ali watches patiently as Nat works her best attempt at magic on the stitching.

“And you’ve got it!” You cheer her on as she ties off the final stitch. “Yay Mama!”

“Yay Mama!” Ali mirrors.

The smile on Nat’s face makes your heart swell.

Nat kisses Ali’s cheek as she hands her the stuffed dog. “Say thank you to Mommy,” she instructs the little girl.

She thanks you and you blow a kiss into the phone. You stay on the line as Nat tucks the girl back into bed. It’s a chorus of I love yous and sleep tights.

“God, I miss you,” Nat says once she’s closed the door behind her. She’s heading back to her office.

“I miss you too, babe. You were super mom once again tonight,” you compliment her. Her cheeks blush a light pink. “I’ll see you soon, my love.”

“I love you, detka,” Natasha says.

“I love you so much,” you tell her.

You can’t wait to be home again.

#natasha romanoff x reader #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff fluff

[worriedvision]

Hello! Just wanted to say I loved your Al Haitham fanfic & was wondering if you could do a second part if you don't mind?🙏🏼💚

A part where Al Haitham finally talks to reader & makes his intentions clear (that he's interested in them) but reader is insecure & has doubts because of what their "friends" said so Al Haitham comfort them, try to show reader their real value.

Also the "friends" finally having a reality check would be great!😪 Like they're in denial & jealous after seeing reader & Al Haitham talking or spending time together so they go to reader saying things like Al Haitham is only using them to get closer to one of them but Al Haitham hears that & confronts them.

(that's just an idea, feel free to do what you want, I got carried away!😭)

Take your time & have fun if you're doing it! 🤗💚

This is the second part of this fic! Gender neutral reader, decided to wedge Tighnari in bc why not lol.

---

You returned to study in the city, and the first question many people asked you was 'where's your friends?'. After you tell them you left them to enjoy their time away themselves, you could see the disappointment in their eyes. One person was someone you had a crush on, and you thought they had the potential to be special, but then you find out that your friends decided to ruin it by flirting with them to the point the person lost interest in you. You lived in the shadows of the friend group, and you were fed up with it.

Into the books you went, but the library reminded you of the times you were making notes for your friends. Studying botany wasn't a topic any of your friends cared for, and you had only started getting a proper interest on your walk back to the city. Closing the books, you take your things with you as you make your way towards the outdoors.

You decide to start studying the flora around the Avidya forest, figuring you may as well see what there was. Shortly after you start, you hear something rustle. Thinking it's perhaps a small woodland critter, you keep jotting down notes.

A few seconds later, someone speaks directly behind you.

"Hello there." A masculine yet soft voice hums out, only to yell out when your head pops up suddenly, hitting his nose in the process.

"Ah, sorry!" You turn, pulling out your kit to help the man you had bumped on the nose. The man thanks you, sitting down next to you as he looks at your notes.

"Would you like me to share my notes with you?" The man asks, muffled slightly by his nose being covered. You eagerly nod, asking him if he needed anything in return. You offer mora, but he shakes his head.

"I would like you to volunteer to be a forest ranger when you study plants." He states. "I trust you have a good head on your shoulders." The man adds. You nod, happy to do so, as it would only make sense that you worked alongside other forest rangers as you learn.

--

You find you enjoy volunteering as a forest ranger, as it does feel like a temporary escape from your student life. Yes, you still study, but you didn't feel like you needed to keep your friends in class. You worked closely with Tighnari, him insisting he could teach you all about the plants in the area. He was correct, and you found you gained more confidence in really understanding what made plants different as well as the similarities.

He finds out about your friends through an angry student shouting at you. Turns out, nobody else was willing to give them notes to study with, and they were kicked out of school because of their terrible scores. Tighnari finds himself getting frustrated at the persons audacity to blame you for someone elses undoing with their own lack of discipline to study.

"No wonder you can't find any real friends, you're all head and no heart!" The person keeps shouting, Tighnari walking up from behind them as he makes eye contact with you to check if you're okay. He can tell you're growing insecure, almost as if you knew what they were going to say next. "It's surprising they even were your friends, they gave you more than you gave them! You even left them in Port Ormos to get scammed by vendors after they told you that a man you found attractive was probably looking at-"

"Forgive me for interrupting." Tighnari snaps, sighing out when the person finally shuts up. "But your friends don't seem like the type to be academics." Tighnari continues. "As a forest ranger, I don't appreciate you interrupting the peace in the forest. Now, what would happen if I were to send a complaint regarding your code of conduct..." He hums out in thought, seeing the person apologise before walking briskly towards the city.

He looks over at you, and you meekly thank him.

"What was that all about?" Tighnari asks. "Your friends getting 'scammed'? And the thing with them being kicked out of their studies?"

You take a deep breath, and you begin to talk.

"At the time, my friends wanted to go along to Port Ormos for celebrating them passing their year of exams. The vendors kept overpricing everything, and I had to be there. If I wasn't they'd have just believed that the objects they were buying was truly limited edition." You start. "The man the person was talking about there kept looking in my direction, giving me a look of interest, and I thought he was attracted to me. My friends eventually find out, and they tell me that I only thought it because I was with them, and the man was actually interested in them." You continue. Tighnari doesn't say a word, encouraging you to continue.

"I guess I was considered the brains, and they were the beauty." Tighnari's face scrunches up out of confusion when he hears this. "I spent a lot of time making notes that they could make sense of. Well, that is until I took an honest comment too personally."

"Your friends sound..." Tighnari trails of, trying to think of how to say it nicely. "Well..."

"They are attractive, just ask anyone that knows them." You sigh out, thinking Tighnari was wanting to see them. "After they told me I had to focus on my studies instead of pursuing someone I was interested in, I had enough and left them by themselves. I probably should have stayed with them, knowing they would likely be broke now with those vendors."

"Well, if someone only looks at appearances for romance, they're not worth it." Tighnari states. "It's not like you have to be dense to be attractive, I would know." Tighnari looks at you. You gasp, realising that this must have sounded like you were calling him ugly for being smart. "I'm talking about you, not me." He stops you before you can overthink.

You still don't fully believe him when he throws this comment in, but you laugh it off before continuing your day.

--

The very next day, you get woken up by Tighnari telling you someone wanted to see you in Port Ormos. Tighnari explains he received a letter from someone, not specifying names, and you were named. You nod, telling him that you'll come back once you're done, and he smirks.

"Well, good luck." Tighnari responds. "And if it doesn't work out, I'm always happy to have you here." You don't think much of this statement, nodding before heading off.

The walk there isn't too eventful, and you believe that the person looking for you was most likely one of your ex friends. You see the man you noticed in Port Ormos, but you don't think he's interested in you. Walking towards the sea, you opt to stand out in the open in case something bad was to happen. To your surprise, you hear the man walking towards you.

"Good afternoon." The man starts, standing next to you. "I am glad to see you." He continues, you can hear the smile in his voice as he finishes the sentence.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you where my friends are." You curtly say, not wanting to get your hopes up. As much as you like to believe this man was interested in you all along, you thought that your friends words were truthful.

"Your friends aren't very nice, nor are they rational." The man responds, matching your curt tone. "In all honesty, it's nothing short of a miracle that they got as far as they did." He looks at you. "I was meaning to approach you, but you left before I had the chance."

"Sorry, I don't know what you'd want from someone like me." You look at the man, who has that same look of interest in his eyes.

"I have a more private place we can go. I'm certain you are interested in learning, and I have an abundance of books you can learn from." He starts once again. "Of course, I would like to spend some time with you as well, so I hope you don't mind my presence when you use my resources."

"...Is this your way of asking me out?" You raise a brow. "Did someone put you up to this? I got tired of making notes for people who didn't thank me properly, and-"

He shakes his head, stopping you once more.

"This is my way of asking you out, and it is purely my own idea. Nobody coerced me, nor did anyone approach me with a childish idea." The man explains. "So, will you take my offer?"

#al haitham x gender neutral reader #haitham x gender neutral reader #tighnari x gender neutral reader #tighnari x reader #al haitham x reader #haitham x reader

[sometimesibewriting]

Frustration

🍆18+ smut fic MINORS DO NOT INTERACT  🍆

✨Summary: You and Uryu are searching for something in his family's library but he can't find it. After seeing how upset he is you let him take it out on you.

🍆 Everyone is 18+ in this one shot.

📃Wordcount: 1,479

❌Warnings: Unprotective, rough smex

💙I tried to play with Uryu's personality here. I wanted to write him a little rougher here but still have his personality stay close to his canon one. That being said if he seems a little too OOC apologizes. I have so many smut fic ideas for him, but smut takes a while for me to write and edit. So there will be more in the future there just gonna take me a while to get out. （；´д｀）ゞ

"Is this not breaking and entering?" You asked as you turned another corner. "I used to live here remember," Uryu answered sternly. "You don't anymore, besides your dad-" 

"What about that man?" His voice icy. "Never mind." Your body tensed, this side of Uryu was weird to you as he was usually calm and collected. He wasn’t one to let his emotions spill out like that. But right now that wasn't the Uryu before you as the both of you walked the halls he used to live in.

He stopped in front of two heavy wooden doors and tried to push them open but they didn't budge. He sucked his teeth, pulled out his sewing kit, and began working on the lock. Uryu said his dad was at work yet you still kept a lookout, it distracted you from what the both of you were doing.

A click was heard a few minutes later he pushed the door, it opening this time. "Pretentious. He put a lock on the door because of last time." He spoke to himself. 

"Because of you finding the book." Uryu pushed up his glasses shaking his head yes. He walked in and then down the stairs as you stood there staring in awe. The place was big but something about it having a library with shelves and shelves had you floored. What even were all these books about? Did his father read them, did Uryu read any of them when he was little?

You walked down looking all around you. "This is kind of crazy." 

"He's crazy." Uryu spat as he hit the last step you followed him towards the back of the library, "So what are we looking for again?" You asked. 

"Documentation." He began pulling out books flipping through them. "Why would he hide it here? Wouldn't he have that stuff in a lock box in his office or room?"

"Ryuken knows that's the first place I would look, also given that he locked the door I would say I'm right on the money." Both of you began to flip through books you taking one side while Uryu took the other, his suggestion to make things go faster.

You didn't know how long you both spent there but you could slowly feel yourself losing your mind as you looked ahead at all the bookcases. Looking down at the watch you could see there was a lot of time left but still. You heard the sound of a book hitting the floor and walked to the source of the sound.

"Shit," Uryu shouted in frustration leaning against one of the bookshelves, the back of his head hitting the self. You walked over gently putting each hand on the side of his face not sure of what to say. That was when he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into a tight hug.

His face went into the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around his neck he wasn't crying. It wasn't the best idea but Uryu started kissing your neck. You weren't taken back by this action and just let it happen it wasn't like this was your first time with him anyway.

Uryu worked his way up from your neck to your cheek only stopping a few inches from your face, looking at you for approval, you looked back in a way that gave him that approval. He kissed your lips softly, before deaping the kiss and pushing off the bookcase he was leaning pinning you against the opposite shelf. His hands going all over your body. Stopping at your chest to play with it through your clothes.

He moved his knee to separate your legs apart. His lips moved off of yours so you could both get air, you began rubbing your lower half against his knee glad that you wore a skirt today. Without missing a beat you took off your shirt causing him to go back in for another kiss.

This time you ceased your grinding putting your hand inbetween his legs rubbing him nice and slowly. Uryu rutted his crotch against your hand to get friction, you could feel him getting hard under your touch. His lips parted from you once more, "Can you turn around." It was said in more of a now tone than a question. But his harsher tone didn't bother you, it was kind of hot to see this side come from.

You did what he said turning your back towards him, facing the other bookshelf in front of you he pulled down your panties rather quickly. The air hitting your bare crotch. The situation the both of you were in made the sensation almost feel new. Uryu’s hand went to the clasp of the bar undoing it with ease.

He began to rub between your legs, you spread them further apart as a way to tell him you wanted more. Uryu put one finger in moving it in and out. After a while he added a second then a third, he was going nice in slow which was the norm, he enjoyed riling you up. Between the fingers and the situation, you were slowly becoming undone. Without warning he sped up his pace causing you to hold onto the bookshelf.

Uryu leaned over and said into your ear. "Remember what I said, my dad isn't going be back till one in the morning it's mid-afternoon. You can scream all you want, in fact I would like it if you would.." His tone was icy, it sounded as if he was taunting an enemy that was getting on his nerves. He pulled back and then harshly shoved back in all three of his fingers. Causing you to yelp it echoing off the empty library walls.

"Ishida." You whined.

He grabbed your chin with his free hand roughly making you look at him. "Call me by my first name I don't want to hear my last name right now." You shook your head as he pulled his fingers out of you, wondering if that was him punishing you for doing something wrong. Uryu took the bottom of your skirt lifting it over your butt. He then began to roughly rub his clouted crotch against it rough. "Fuck." He said through labored breathing holding onto the same bookcase trying to steady himself. 

Uryu pulled away, you didn't dare look at him all you could make out was the sound of him undoing his pants. It didn't take long for you to feel his bare hard-on on your buttocks wet with pre-cum. He rubbed himself against you but slowly sighing in relief.

He leaned over again kissing you softly, "Uryu." You said softly as he kissed your lips. "You always taste good to me." He deepend the kiss slipping into you with no problem. "Uryu...fuck." You managed to get out as he sunk deeper into you. He held you as he stayed leaning over you giving you time to adjust. Uryu then pulled back his hips causing you to gasp, he brought them back forward. The sound of both your bodies connecting. 

Once he got a rhythm he sped up, causing you to rock into the shelf. After a few thrusts, his hands came forward rolling your breasts together. His hands then traveled down to play with both your nipples at the same time. Your back arched, the way he always did you made you feel good. But what you were feeling now was way different than the other times you've done it together. It pushed you over the edge and you came the orgasm washing over you.

Uryu pulled out of you but wasn’t finished yet, he turned you around facing him. "Would you let me finish?" He asked breathing heavily. "Of course." You spread your legs once more, he slipped in again. He held your leg against his hip as he began trusting again this time harsher with no regard for your being. 

Your arms found their way to his shoulders holding on for dear life. His trust pushes you into the bookshelf, knocking off some of the books. He pulled out almost far enough to be out of you and then slammed back in. That was when he released into you. He held you both your panting slowing down. Uryu's face softened as he looked at you.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. You gave him a reassuring smile. "It's okay you were just frustrated." 

"Still I shouldn't have taken it out on you...like that." His voice full of regret. You took a piece of misplaced hair and put it behind his ear. "I didn't mind but I do think it shouldn't be a regular thing, let's clean up and talk about this later. Okay?" You placed a kiss on his lips as he shook his head in agreement.

#bleach #bleach fanfic #bleach fanfiction #bleach reader insert #bleach x reader #ishida x reader #uryuu ishida #uryuu x reader #uryu ishida #uryu x reader #Bleach reader insert #x reader #anime x reader #smut #x reader smut #sometimesibewriting uryu

[aethersgirlfriend]

cumulus and phantom is one of my favourite ships so have some <them3 thoughts under the cut!!! im so tempted to write a fic ab them so if u have any ideas pls share i need a prompt

cumulus being the one who put the blanket on him and got him to drink water after his summoning

lus calling him honey and phantom calling her my love when he isn't too awestruck ("hi honey" "HIIIIIIII")

him always sending her photos of clouds

them combining their elements to make his magick spread around the den faster or to make her air have more healing abilities when she uses it to cool down someone with a fever

phant practically running to her room and crawling on top of her after a long day of practice with omega and aether and laying on her chest purring so loud while she scratches that one spot behind his left horn

him bringing her shiny rocks and little trinkets he finds during the day and leaving it outside her door with a sticky note saying ' :) ' and no one knows she has a whole box for them under her bed

him being completely inlove with her beauty in a way that makes her blush and squeal and run to rora after getting a response to a photo she sent him who will gasp and squeal with her as cumulus runs onto her bed and kicks her feet and rory is actively aw-ing at her summoning buddy and cir walks in and can't even pretend to be mad that the new summon is seducing her lover because the way he's going about it is so adorable

her kissing over his scars and insecurities and calling him beautiful

he comes to her a couple nights before they start touring and he admits that he's terrified he'll do a bad job at replacing aether and that everyone will hate him (im sorry but theres no phantom ghoul thoughts without a sprinkle of angst) and she listens and comforts him and he sobs so hard he accidentally sends out a massive wave of quintessence (his magick acts up when he feels strong emotions!! topside things xx) that makes them both go a bit silly and they're lying on his bed giggling over some dumb photo of a pufferfish and swiss walks in like because he smelt the magick and he's so confused

cumulus and swiss known as the 2 ghouls who serenaded the new summons before anyone else could (they OWN the title.)

him killing 3 birds with one stone and coming into the girls den with 3 roses in his mouth

aurora and phantom are more ghoul-like/animalistic than any of the others so cumulus will walk into her room to find a nest on her bed made of everyone's clothes and duvets and blankets and sheets etc etc and look inside to find the 2 cuddled up, kneading at eachother, tails intertwined, purring very loudly and when they smell her their ears immediately perk up and they let out happy ghoul noises and drag her in to do their ghoul loving ghoul ritual

he panicked so much when he first got his claws stuck in her gorgeous hair that he almost started crying because he thought he'd 1. hurt her and 2. be the reason she had to cut some of it off but she hushed him and called mountain who giggled at his reaction and got a whole kit from the kitchen - this happens all the time. none of the boys can help but appreciate her cloud like mane of hair

they have the best nonverbal communication. (they communicate mainly in ghoul noises and she understands his confused head tilts nearly as good as swiss can, but no one can beat rora)

aeth got then matching pj's because he's a cutie and phantom refused to take them off until she politely told him he smelled like shit

them baking together and him being covered in flour

aether, mountain and swiss all pampering her like the goddess she is and phantom finds them and feels left out so aether shows him a few quint tricks that has cumulus asleep in minutes and phantom just sits there playing with her hair as she snoozes feeling so proud of himself

lus having to go to the library alone one day after there was an incident with dew and a few of mountains potted plants and phantom immediately jumps at the opportunity and follows her around the library for wayyy longer then she's normally there and she's just handing him books that she thinks sounds good and he's carrying every single one because he wants the praise (he's so real)

him seeing lus at one of the many balls held throughout the year and even though his date is aurora, he's completely gobsmacked at her dress and just everything about her but aurora totally agrees so they just kind of admire her from afar

#cumulus ghoulette #phantom ghoul #aeon ghoul #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghoul headcanons #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoulettes #aether ghoul #mountain ghoul #swiss ghoul #aurora ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette

[avelera]

soooo, you know who probably has a TON of Faustus/Mephistophilis fanfiction ideas? That, even if he never writes them, will turn up in his boyfriend's library of all the books ever dreamed of but never written...which may take some influence from his relationship with said otherworldly thought-he-was-a-devil-for-a-while-and-may-not-have-stopped-by-the-1500s boyfriend...

oh my GOD, Anon, oh MY GOD

OAISDAIOSDJS

I need my smelling salts, one moment, OH MY GOD...

...OK I'M BACK

YES, Hob Gadling ABSOLUTELY projected WILDLY onto Kit Marlowe's Doctor Faustus x Mephistophilis. Did he write fic? Maybe, maybe not he definitely jerked off to fic he never wrote, I'm just saying but there are definitely Hob fanfics FOR Doctor Faustus in Dream's library of "books that were never written"

Just... oh my god, look, I've made references across many of my Dreamling fics but especially throughout "Giving Sanctuary" to Hob being utterly obsessed with "Doctor Faustus" and becoming Kit Marlowe's patron for a minute there because of it (which would have been shortly before he died) and having gone to see it so many times that he had it memorized at one point, and it being the first time he had more than a passing interest in the arts or a play (when it wasn't, y'know, his job as a printer's apprentice).

But I will admit, my assumption he'd like it was based a bit on the cliff notes version and my reading of other versions of Faust. Seeing the Arthur Darvill play was so, so vindicating because, uh huh, yeah yeah yeah, Hob was utterly obsessed with this play, and I will accept no criticism.

Like the scene where some men try to kill Faust by beheading him and he ends up just standing there, holding his own severed head in his hand as he comes to life? I bet you Hob absolutely blanched at that scene and wondered if Marlowe had been spying on him during an unfortunate moment (if he hadn't told Marlowe about it himself). Also, all of Faust's misfortunes come from his deal ending when he dies, but he gets a good life until then. Hob Gadling was totally like, "RIP, Doctor Faustus, but I'm different. My life might not always be amazing, but at least I don't have to worry about fuckin' demons dragging my still-screaming soul down to Hell!"

But also just like... the very clear themes of how a seductive, irresistible man will damn you soul to Hell. That knowledge, and learning, and ignoring institutions that try to control you in favor of living the life you want are all sins just has so many layers of what I assume were known-bisexual Marlowe's own conflict with his chosen life vs. his upbringing. And I'm sure those concerns spoke to Hob's own fears around this spectacular life he has (especially in the 1500s) and the lingering fear that one day he might have to pay the piper.

But yes, Doctor Faustus x Mephistophilis is like the original vampire seduction. Hob canonically worried specifically that he made a bargain with the Devil, that play would have raised the hair on the back of his neck but also... Mephistophilis is hot? And he and Doctor Faustus are like weird fucked up tragic soulmates? Yeah Hob had so, so (so so so) many feelings about this play!

#dreamling #doctor faustus

[cirrus-ghoulette]

Hideaway

Word count: 864

Rating: General audiences

Pairing: Polyghouls

Characters: Dewdrop, Aether, mention of Omega

Key features: Dew with a kit, semi feral Dew, semi feral ghoul whisperer Aether

Summary: Dew has been missing for the pack for three days. Aether finds him.

This work was heavily inspired by @chapel-of-rizztual 's new fic! Go read it right now!

Dew had been missing for three days. 

Now, while it wasn't unusual for ghouls to disappear for a few days for hunts or heats, it was strange for Dew to go missing. 

The ghoul, if he was injured or sick or just tired, would hole away in his room until he felt better. But they had checked his room. In fact, they had checked every inch of the dormitory. He wasn't there. 

The pack was starting to worry. 

They'd spread their search, to the library and the chapel and even the siblings' dorms. 

It was late at night, and they were just about to give up their search for the day. Aether could feel the other pack members telepathically telling him that they were going to look again in the morning, that maybe Dew would come out for food. 

Aether was far from the dorms. He was down in an abandoned part of the Ministry, mostly used for storage nowadays. Everything was quiet, muffled by a thick layer of dust.

Then, a whimper. 

Just a soft one. 

Aether's ears twitched. He followed the sound, his footsteps light, not wanting to spook whatever made that sound. 

He found what he had been looking for. 

Dew. 

The poor ghoul, he was propped up between a bookshelf and a wall. He wore only a shirt, though all of the buttons were undone. He only looked semi conscious. 

"Fuck, Dew." Aether breathed. He ran over to the sad little lump, his footsteps making Dew perk up. 

Dew looked around dozily for a second, then hissed and curled away from Aether. He tucked his head down and brought his knees up, hiding away in a ball. His tail thudded anxiously on the floor beside him. 

"Dewdrop. Shit. Hi." Aether slowed his approach, seeing how Dew reacted like a flighty animal. He chirruped softly, a noise reserved for submissive ghouls, to show Dew that he wasn't going to hurt him. "Hey. You're alright." 

Except Dew probably wasn't alright. As Aether stepped closer, he noticed the dark puddle under Dew. He could smell the blood. 

"I need you to talk to me, Dew. Tell me you're okay." Aether dropped to his knees and crawled the rest of the distance, though he stopped around five metres from the other ghoul. "Or tell me you're not okay, and I can help." 

Dew stared at Aether with big, fearful eyes. Then he chittered anxiously, a quiet 'ekekek' sound. 

"Alright. Can't talk. Okay." Aether nodded slowly. Sometimes ghouls went a little feral. It was in their nature. It was okay, Aether could deal with it. "Are you still bleeding?" 

Dew shook his head. He tucked further into the corner. 

Then, another, tiny whimper rang out. 

It didn't come from Dew's lips. 

"What the Hell?" Aether whispered. Dew was starting at him like a deer in headlights. "What's going on, Dew? Give me something to work with here." 

Slowly, and ever so cautiously, Dew turned. In his trembling arms was a kit. A tiny, curled up little thing, sucking on the fork of their tail in a self soothing gesture.

"Oh, fuck…" Aether crawled closer. "Where did you get them, droplet?" 

Dew gave Aether a look, as if to say 'Where do you normally get kits from?'. He raised a disapproving eyebrow, before his expression was replaced by a wince. 

"Hey, take it easy. Steady, little guy. Can I see them?" He asked softly. Dew shook his head. "Alright. Can you hold them out a little, just so I can look them over?" 

Carefully, Dew held the kit up, even as they squirmed and whined at getting moved. They were absolutely tiny. One of the smallest kits Aether had ever seen. Their cord wasn't attached, and they seemed to have a belly full of milk. Dew had done well on his own. 

"Thanks, Dew. That's all I needed to see. You can take your kit back now. That's it, keep them warm against your chest. Good lad." Aether murmured, as if he was speaking to a spooked animal. He closed his eyes, contacting Omega through their telepathy. Letting him know that he'd found Dew and he needed medical help. 

"I'm gonna give you my shirt. I want you to put it over the kit, like a blanket. She's very little, Dew. I don't want her getting cold." He said steadily, unbuttoning his shirt and holding it out to Dew. The fire ghoul snatched it from him, then carefully laid it over the kit's back, covering her completely.

"Yeah, that's it. You managed to hide her well, huh?" Aether laughed quietly. He could hear all of his pack popping into his head, asking questions about Dew. He ignored them for the moment.

"Ti-nee." Dew croaked out in explanation, his voice crackly from disuse. He gestured to his middle. It had a bit of a swell to it, but otherwise it just looked like a regular belly. Not like someone who had just given birth. 

"Yeah, she is… You've done such a good job, Dew." Aether could hear Omega's heavy footsteps in the distance. "We're going to get you some help, gorgeous. Just stay awake for a little longer, yeah? Alright. Doing a great job. Good mama."

Dew smiled proudly at that. He was a good mama. 

#ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #my works #headcanons #headcanon #dew #dewdrop #Aether #Aether ghoul #Bun writes fics

[abstract-crossverse]

breathes for air I WAS THAT ONE ANON THAT SAW YOU IN THE DARK DECEPTION FANDOM LONG AGO so I see ur taking Doors requests may I May I request a fluffy Seek x reader thank you so much (vanishes)

Hi hello! Good to see you again even if I don't quite remember you, anyway, here’s the goop man you ordered, my dearest apologies for taking so long, life has been a mess This will be a one-shot sort of thing, I hope that's okay! Honestly I missed writing, I have to do this more often again, finally clean the dust off this ole blog

CW/TW// Description of wound, wound, mention of needles(in a stinging feeling way), blood, general injury

===========================

“Scrapes” // [Seek x Reader, fic, fluff]

Seek and you had been a couple for a couple of weeks now, the rest of the hotel’s entities still don't know this, and Seek would honestly rather keep it that way, it’s none of their business anyway.

How come? Well regardless if they told the others, they’d still kill you the same if you end up getting caught unless Seek manages to convince them to not kill you outright, which is hard to do, some of the entities simply don't give a fuck, it doesn't matter, nothing changes aside the fact they know, and your beloved — don't get him wrong he adores everyone in the hotel like family — but he doesn't trust everyone enough to not let that fact slip to Jack, the Hotel’s founder, one of them anyway.

Jack is… he’d never let him live it down, not to mention the entity would either kill you permanently or turn you into one of them as Seek’s punishment for being anything more than a monster designed and ordered to kill any Players in Jack’s twisted game of… what even would this be? Tag? Hide and Seek? He doesn't know and he doesn't care.

And despite your relationship, you still attempt to leave the hotel, repeating the same routine over and over as you wake up in the lobby, get to the hotel, go through and either die to someone or get to the elevator. Seek doesn't mind, he doesn’t blame you, he’d also try to leave if he were still human like you, he does give you an easier time to escape his corridor when he needs to pop up, being intentionally slower or pretend to be stuck in his own sludge to give you a head start, he doesn't want to kill you, he hates doing that, so he rigs his hallway for you to escape, more so, he rigs himself more than his hallway.

At the moment, Seek had been waiting for you to get to his level, his brother Hide alerting him of you coming near, Hide is the only one who does know of your relationship, the sibling is far too shy to talk with anyone else nor do they even like Jack to interact with the entity further than a greeting, he was grateful for that at least.

He heard footsteps enter the hallway from under the floorboards, waiting as this could be a different person, he never knew, the floorboards were especially hard to peek through, so he waited until he heard the knock he told you to do. Once you tapped your shoe in the rhythm he taught you, he excitedly seeped through the boards into a puddle on the ground before forming into his usual humanoid shape.

“Salutations, my darling, how have you been-” he stopped, mid-way into fixing his tie, looking at your slumped form, puffy red eyes and occasional sniffles, you’ve been crying, he took another moment to look over you…

One of your arms was bloody, soaked almost. He had a hunch of who did this, but wasn't sure if it was correct.

You weren’t sad per se, more in pain than anything, he figured the pain was enough to bring you to tears, it stung his heart to see you this way. He looked at you softly as she tilted his head slightly, offering his hand to you, you took it as he silently led you to the next room, the library that would be usually falling apart when players came by, now intact had many bookshelves, chairs, lamps and drawers, including a big couch he sat you down on

He opened the window next to you both, taking a first aid kit from one of the tar covered arms that usually showed themselves on the last stretch of your lover’s chase, he closed the window as the arm slithered back into the void outside, sitting down next to you as he opened the kit and reached a hand to you, silently asking for your injured arm as you rubbed your eyes from their wetness.

“So… tell me dear, what happened?” he spoke softly lifting your sleeve and taking a look at the damage, your arm still soaked in blood, he could assume a chunk of skin was missing

“... I got scratched by Ambush…” you leaned against the couch as you winced at the burning sensation the air hitting your wound gave you, Seek gave you a side glance, he wanted further explanation, you let out a sigh “I got ambushed by Ambush, almost buffered my timing and his particles grazed my arm real bad-” you hissed in pain and tensed as Seek suddenly had a warm wet towel in hand, patting your wound gently, you got confused for a moment before realizing the arm probably brought it to him again, you could feel light cold spots on the towel caused by it getting wet by the rain outside

“I see, well I am glad you didn’t meet your demise today.” he stated as he cleaned the blood, he could see the wound more clearly now as the blood was mostly clean aside the new blood starting to pool again, you had a chunk of skin missing as if someone had ripped part of your skin with wax or something similar, the skin under incredibly reddish and sensitive

He was surprised to hear that Ambush had caused this, he was almost certain that Screech was the culprit, this critter sometimes took out more than he could chew, including chunks of skin or flesh. 

The entity heard your nails scratch the couch as you gripped the seat, he felt your arm tense in his hold as he patted the wound with a dry towel before applying an antibiotic to it, stopping for a moment to press a kiss to your temple as you groaned in pain

“My dearest apologies this hurts so much, but as is the nature of healing, I have to do this, Dove.” He said, gently rubbing his forehead to the side of your head as he continued to apply the ointment, the burning was going away, but it was still there to sting, like needles to your arm, you winced before laying your head on his shoulder as he began bandaging the injury, sighing in relief as the pain subsided a bit, there was nothing he could do if this lead into needing stitches, he’s no medical profession nor can those claws of his sew at all

Leaning his head on top of yours as he took your hand in his, he spoke

“Due to the nature of the hotel, You’ll heal far quicker than you would usually, however we’ll still need to treat it and change the bandages until it is healed.” You hummed in exhaustion, acknowledging what he told you as you relaxed against him, at least you were with him now, you could relax for a while until he had to go again to do whatever with the other players that came around.

“Thank you, Seek…” you mumbled as he moved to hold you, deciding to pull you on top of him as you laid himself down on the couch, you obliged and moved yourself as he silently wanted cuddles. He made sure your injured arm wouldn't be disturbed or put any pressure on as he held you, your head on his chest as he laid kisses on your head, you giggled, there we go

“Hm… Other than that unfortunate event, what else did you do today, my dear?” he moved a hand to rub your back, your legs tangled as you sighed over the comforting movement along your spine, “Well… I talked with a couple new people that end up here, poor guys were freaking out…” you chuckled, “but otherwise things were fine, same old, I did see Halt today, it’s always interesting to see them as they don't often show up…”

Your lover hummed, delightfully surprised at the mention of his ghostly friend, “ah, they came around, how lovely. Have you ever tried striking a conversation?” he looked down at you softly as his hand moved to play with your hair now “I tried yea, but they never respond, I see they get surprised at it though, I don't think they expect anything other than silence from Players that know their deal or freaking out to themselves.” you laughed, Seek let out a chuckle as well

“Ah yes, they are never one to chat too much, it’s alright though, I’m sure they’ll come around eventually if you really want them to.” he assured, closing his eye as he felt your heartbeat and warmth against him, he was usually always cold, it comforted him to feel your form against him, assure him that you're still here, alive and breathing.

You closed your eyes as well, both resting in comfortable silence as you feel the rise and fall of his chest, once you mentioned his constant stillness whenever you two cuddle is slightly unnerving, so he makes an effort to imitate breathing, something he hasn't done in so long, it took him a while to get used to it again, but he says it's also comforting to him, reminding him he’s still human in a way, you wonder how he does it.

Eventually he felt your hand that rested on his shoulder slide and fell to the cushions, he chuckled silently as he opened his eye to find you comfortably asleep on his chest, he went back to rubbing your back as you cuddled more into him in your sleep. One of the big arms opened the window quietly and draped a blanket over the two of you before slithering back into the void and closing the window, Seek listened to your gentle snores and the rain hitting the walls outside, for such a day to end in comfort and warmth, he never thought he’d have a moment like this before you showed up.

He carefully moved to press a kiss to the top of your head before laying his head back down, maybe he could get some shut-eye himself, he doesn't quite remember how sleeping feels like anymore, what a lovely way to try that again.

===========================

#maskwrites #doors seek #doors roblox #roblox doors #seek x reader #seek doors #x reader #doors x reader #fic #oneshot #anon

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Snow (Let’s Not Lose Ourselves) 👀

(Also interested in "(library's haunted )" but u dont need to add it if it's a lot )

Tnx for the mention btw! :)

Hi Kit! :)

Snow (Let's Not Lose Ourselves) is one my earlier BSD pieces that I never finished because I hit a snag with a certain scene. However, I really want to get back to it since what I have down already I'm actually quite happy with.

It's a gen fic about the first snowfall of the year in Yokohama and how the Agency and Port Mafia are, surprisingly, having a peaceful day for once. Sort of like a Wan chapter but more with the tone of the series proper. There's also a winter market - idk if Yokohama actually has those but there were vendors and stands in the early winter around my area and I always loved those so... I'm sending sskk there for a break hehe. Or, well, they are at least minimally civil to each other lol

I also took the time to have a few character interactions that aren't seen in the series - Tanizaki, Kyouka, Ranpo and Lucy / Atsushi and Poe / Kenji and Higuchi - basically I'm just having fun and it's just meant to be a kind of calm, peaceful, bittersweet piece.

I've got a few exchanges below the cut that I'd like to share :) I was a good halfway done this one, so there's a lot more to share for this than the others.

In order, we have: Ranpo and Kyouka peer-pressuring Tanizaki, Poe being unhinged in front of a concerned Atsushi, and sskk just barely holding back from brawling in the middle of the market hjdbfhjldh

(As for library's haunted - someone else asked about that one too, so I'll answer it there!)

           “But then it won’t be the first snow!”            Ranpo had sidled up behind them at some point during their conversation, his hands laced casually behind his head, the stick of a lollipop clicking rhythmically between his teeth. Tanizaki jumped slightly from the volume of his interjection. Kyouka barely responded. She must’ve sensed his approach.            “Ah, but there’ll be other snows…” Tanizaki trailed off lamely, gesturing with a shrug made heavy by the weight of his stack of documents.            “He-llo?” Ranpo interrupted, popping the lollipop out and gesticulating irritably. “It’s not the same!”            “It isn’t,” Kyouka agreed quickly, then they both turned to stare at Tanizaki, who gulped. It was bad enough having Ranpo’s scrutinizing gaze boring holes into the depths of his being, but to have Kyouka fix him with her big eyes and a barely repressed pleading look behind them…            “I… I want to, really! But… but I don’t know what to do about it!”            At this, Ranpo let out a deep sigh.            “I know I’m the only one with a brain around here, but really? The solution is obvious, don’t you think?” he shrugged indifferently, popping the lollipop back into his mouth. “Shachou’s out.”            “You-” Tanizaki floundered, then in a hushed whisper, “we’re gonna get in trouble!”

           “Hang on. If you didn’t think you were invited, why did you tag along with Kenji and I?”            “I was already headed here…” Poe muttered, then he straightened back up sudden as a flash, alarming both Atsushi and Karl, who let out an irritated little squeak. The man clenched a fist dramatically, a manically gleeful grin spreading across his face.            “I have it from a reliable source that a certain group of vendors will be present on this day only - artisanal candy makers from out of the country!”            “Your source being… Alcott-san?”            “Well,” Poe coughed, deflating slightly. “Perhaps. But!” he continued, his energy restored. “The point is that the candy they make is apparently quite unique to them! I daresay Ranpo-kun has never had anything like it!”            “Oh!” Atsushi smiled, finally understanding. “You’re here to get a present for Ranpo-san! That’s nice! I was actually going to look for something for Kyouka-chan as well, maybe we could both-?”            “It’s not a present! It will be… my victory over him.”            “Your. Wha?”            “Ranpo-kun doesn’t know about the artisans. Even if he did – which is unlikely but I must not underestimate his skill – they were supposed to leave before the market opened due to a last-minute change of plans. But! Then there was an even more last-minute change of plans that allowed them to stay one more day! Due to the short time-frame, they should still be in the process of setting up on the opposite side of the market, and as such, word has not quite spread to anyone except for the market organizers. However, certain interested parties like to stay informed on events throughout Yokohama, including Fitzgerald, which naturally means that Fitzgerald does not know anything but Louisa does. She informed me of the changes and I was able to slip out through the window, as no one had noticed I was present for the past half-hour. After that, it was child’s play to join your shopping expedition group by simply blending in!”            “You tried to ask us. We didn’t hear you the first three times and then you just started walking with us.”            “Be that as it may! The point is that Ranpo-kun has no way of suspecting that I am currently purchasing him these candies, and even if he did! He has no way of knowing what kind of candies these are specifically! And when he takes them and opens them with an expression of surprise and joy… I will be triumphant! As his sworn rival, I will finally have bested him… heh heh heh…”            Poe trailed off his increasingly sinister monologue with a dark chuckle. Atsushi once again made the brave choice not to ask any further questions.

           Atsushi and Akutagawa remained in the middle of the main path, side-eyeing each other with a bitter animosity.            “…I’m going to that vendor over there,” Atsushi finally said, starting to step slowly backwards, unwilling to take his eye off the mafioso for too long.            “Find a different one,” Akutagawa said coolly, striding right past him. “That’s where I’m going.”            “Get your own!” Atsushi snapped, turning and picking up the pace to try and outpace the man.            “Don’t walk next to me.”            “Don’t cut me off!”            They exchanged barbs and insults all the way up to the vendor. The owner smiled at them as they approached, but her smile was a little uncertain as she glanced between them nervously.            Atsushi smiled back to alleviate her concern and began perusing the vendor, impressed with her work. She must have been some kind of ceramics craftswoman – little models of carefully glazed flowers, animals and people were artfully decorated in detailed patterns. He crouched down to get a better look at the sign next to it with the pricing options. He winced a bit at the cost.            Above him, he just barely heard the low mutterings of an exchange between Akutagawa and the owner, a sigh, and then the sound of snow crunching as the man crouched beside him to peer at the same sign.            Frustrated by his seeming inability to shake the mafioso off, Atsushi readied a retort on his tongue and a glare in his eyes, only to pause.            Akutagawa looked exhausted.            His dark eyes stared at the sign almost vacantly. His shoulders were tense but slumped over, and a slight shiver ran through his thin frame, bundled though he was in a thick coat and long scarf. He coughed, quietly as usual, into the palm of his hand but Atsushi’s keen hearing could pick out the stronger wheeze and rattle from his lungs.            Despite himself, he felt the stirrings of a pang of sympathy roiling in his stomach, combating fiercely against the tension and anger he usually felt around him. They weren’t enemies in this moment, Kenji had said, so there was no reason they couldn’t coexist but… it was Akutagawa. He struggled for several moments with his internal conflict, indecisive on whether or not he should say something. His mind was ultimately made up for him when Akutagawa fixed him with a quizzical, suspicious stare, leaving him in the awkward position of having to justify his reason for having stared at him first for so long. He’d just have to be casual. “So… what brings you here? To the market, I mean. On this day – today, you know, uh… nice weather?” Akutagawa stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. On second thought, maybe he just shouldn’t speak. Ever. Akutagawa mumbled something under his breath that even Atsushi’s keen hearing couldn’t parse. “Erm, sorry, what, uh, what was that?” “Gift shopping,” Akutagawa muttered, a little more clearly, like the concept offended him.

#storyrambles #bsd #bsd fic #writing! i do it sometimes #i hope you enjoy :)