#i got it and i loved it just like i imagined one of the librarian was retiring and she told me i should apply to replace her

[philippagordon]

hello everyone, I hope you're all doing great! just passing by to say i'm officially going to be a librarian :) follow your dreams kids

[sufficientlylargen]

It always gets me that the name "Gandalf" literally just means "Wand-Elf" or "Stick-Elf". I'm imagining old Gondorians just being like:

Librarian: I saw that weird guy at the library again today.

Guard 1: What weird guy?

Librarian: The old guy with the beard? Kinda elfy-looking, apart from the beard?

Guard 1: Oh, with the big-ass stick?

Librarian: Yeah, looked like he was carrying an entire tree branch.

Guard 2: Yeah, that's the Stick Elf.

Guard 1: Hell yeah, I fuckin' love the Stick Elf.

Librarian: The "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: He comes by every few years, usually after some weird book or other.

Librarian: Oh. Yeah, he wanted a treatise on goblin breeding habits.

Guard 2: Like, how they have sex? We have books on that?

Librarian: Yeah, turns out we do. I was as surprised as you are.

Guard 1: What'd the Stick Elf need a fuckin' goblin-fuckin' book for?

Librarian: I didn't ask. So you just call him "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: I mean, he looks kinda elfy and he always has that stick, so, like, yeah.

Guard 1: Dude also has some fuckin' dope pipeweed.

Guard 2: Oh yeah, his pipeweed is awesome.

Librarian: How long has he been coming here?

Guard 2: Oh, for decades. He's, like, super old.

Guard 1: More like fuckin' centuries. Dude's old as balls.

Guard 2: Wait, really?

Guard 1: Yeah, my gran-gran used to talk about him. She loved his pipeweed too.

Librarian: So he's… an immortal pipeweed dealer?

Guard 2: I think he's just, like, a connoisseur. He doesn't sell it or anything. He just always has some really top-notch pipeweed on him.

Archivist: Oh, are we talking about Stick Elf?

Guard 1: Hell yeah we are!

Librarian: You know about the Stick Elf, too?

Archivist: Oh, totally. Stick-Elf's a super chill dude. Gave me some awesome pipeweed when I was maybe 12, and tee-bee-aitch I think I'm still a little buzzed from it.

Guard 1: What'd I tell ya, fuckin' dope pipeweed!

Archivist: Also he's really old.

Guard 1: Old as balls.

Librarian: Yeah, so Éodan and Jenniforomir were telling me.

Archivist: My grandpa used to tell me stories - he said one time he saw Stick Elf enter a smoke-ring contest.

Guard 1: Ooh, I'll bet he kicked fuckin' ass.

Archivist: Apparently the guy made an entire warship out of smoke and it flew around shooting down the other rings.

Librarian: And how much of this "fuckin' dope" pipeweed had your grandfather had by this point?

Guard 1: No no, that's totally plausible. Dude's got weird elf powers and shit for sure.

Archivist: He brought fireworks for the king's birthday one year, too.

Guard 1: Oh fuck, I forgot about those! Fuckin' incredible fireworks! Dragons and knights and glowy trees and shit! I was fuckin' 6 years old or something, they totally blew my mind. Hey Éodan, did you see that shit?

Guard 2: No, I think that's before I lived in Gondor.

Guard 1: Wait, you're not from here?

Guard 2: Oh, no, I grew up in Rohan. We moved here when I was, like, thirteen because my uncle Éojeff said he could get my dad a sweet job. And also that there were houses that didn't smell like horseshit.

Guard 1: Oh shit, are you related to Éojeff and Éosteve who run that æbleskiver stand on Norndîl St?

Guard 2: Yeah, they're my uncles!

Guard 1: Shit, they cook a fuckin' great æbleskiver!

Librarian: Ok, hold up a sec, "Stick Elf" can't possibly be his real name.

Guard 1: Why not?

Librarian: What? You think his parents named him in the hopes that he would carry around a fucking tree when he got older?

Guard 2: Maybe they gave him the tree when he was born!

Archivist: I don't think a baby could carry that stick.

Guard 1: You ever seen a baby hanging onto something? They're hella strong.

Archivist: It's not a strength thing, their hands are tiny. That staff is enormous!

Guard 1: My halberd's bigger 'n I am, I can hold it just fine.

Archivist: You're not a baby.

Librarian: Also why would elf parents name their kid "stick ELF"?! Presumably they know that their kid's going to be an elf!

Archivist: Is he actually an elf? I didn't think they grew beards.

Guard 1: How'd he get old as balls if he's not an elf?

Guard 2: His ears aren't that pointy. Maybe he's just a really old guy? Like, a Numémoriam or something?

Guard 1: Did you just say "Numémoriam"?

Guard 2: Nûnenorman? Munimõrbitan? Y'know, those guys like the king that can get super old.

Guard 1: You mean the fuckin' Númenóreans?

Guard 2: Yeah, the Númenóreums.

Archivist: Even the Númenóreans don't live THAT long.

Guard 1: Plus he carries that fuckin' stick around.

Guard 2: Wait, what does the stick have to do with it?

Guard 1: That's an elf thing. Y'know, trees and shit? Very elfy.

Librarian: Ok, look, but his parents naming him "Stick Elf" would be weird whether or not he's an elf. In fact, it's even weirder if he's not - what human names their kid "elf"?

Archivist: Huh. Yeah, you're right, he probably does have another name.

Guard 2: Yeah, I guess so.

Librarian: He's been coming here for decades and nobody's ever asked his real name?

Archivist: I dunno what to tell you, he's Stick Elf. Even his library card just says 'Stick Elf'.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah, the Stick Elf!

Guard 2: Maybe we could, like, ask him his name sometime?

Guard 1: Hey, look, Elrond's over there. He's old as balls too, maybe he knows?

Guard 2: Oh, we shouldn't interru-

Guard 1: HEY ELROND, YOU'RE OLD AS BALLS, RIGHT? WHAT'S THAT OLD ELF WITH THE STICK'S NAME?

Elrond (coming over): Do you mean an old man cloaked all in grey and blue, leaning on a rough-cut staff, who came to the great library this day?

Guard 1: Yeah, the Stick-Elf!

Guard 2: (Sorry to bother you, sir...)

Librarian: He's got to have a real name besides 'the Stick Elf', right?

Elrond: Indeed, for no elf is he. You speak of the wizard Olórin, wisest of the Maiar, older even than Eä itself. Many are his names in many countries: Tharkûn among the Dwarves; Incánus to the south; Mithrandir he is called among my people, the Grey Pilgrim.

Librarian: Oh.

Elrond: And here in the North he is called Stick-Elf.

Librarian: Oh.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah!

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Post-canon post-reunion post-reuinion-sex. Dean takes Cas out in the Impala for a drive for the first time since he got back a year after he was taken. Before Dean starts the engine he hesitates and gets a little shy and defensively says "don't laugh at me, okay? I need them." and he pulls a pair of plastic framed glasses out of his jacket front pocket and puts them on.

Cas does not stop staring at him, which Dean can only handle up to the first stop light. There's an heated blush on his face when he barks:

"Quit the surveillance Big Brother. Something wrong with my face?"

"You've aged."

"Jesus."

"It's a compliment. Your resourcefulness and resilience have allowed you to live past the time you were intended to by fate."

"You need to go back to charm school, Thermopolis. 'You've aged' is never a friggin compliment."

"It is. You've aged, and you're taking care of yourself."

There's a touch, light, to the side of Dean's face, tracing gently up under the gap of his glasses to caress his crows feet.

"Cas!" Dean complains, "I'm driving!" But he doesn't push his hand away.

"You're growing," Cas continues, sliding a long finger over Dean's eyebag, "You've lived." He taps the leg of Dean's glasses as he withdraws, adding, "You have defied God."

Dean tries very hard to follow the logic, feeling his face screw up as he does, but he's got nothing. "Huh?"

"Chuck's design for humans was faulty, amateur. There was much he did not account for. In creating the means to live, and live well, with the body you have been given, humanity has proven its superiority to God himself."

Dean scoffs, feeling a little shy again, "It's just glasses, Cas."

"The product of thousands of years of innovation. The work of thousands of people across millenia." Cas pauses for a moment, then asks, a touch breathless, "Can I tell you what I like to imagine?"

"Uh, sure?"

"I like to imagine, when I think of the work of other humans across all of time, that they were doing it all in service of you."

Considering this, Dean lets a Jeep turn onto the road in front of him. "Is it like a sex thing?"

"It's not a sex thing. It is the placement of my desire for you over the will of thousands. My love supercedes their true intentions, their ambitions, their circumstances. I am reappropriating their care to act as a vessel for the depth of my feelings for you."

"Hm. Sounds like a sex thing."

"It is not a sex thing."

"Okay, tell me this, then," Dean says, turning to face Cas at the next red light, "Do you or do you not want me to wear the glasses next time I suck you off?"

"...yes, I do want that."

"I rest my case. And hey - just a tip, from one flirt to another. Next time you want to bring up your hot librarian fantasy, or whatever, don't start by calling the other person old."

"It's not a librarian fantasy, it's a you fantasy."

"Yeah, yeah. Not like I haven't got you-fantasies of my own. How about this: I'll wear just the glasses if you wear just the trench coat."

"I think I could be persuaded," Cas says, and he's smiling, and Dean's smiling, and when he catches a glimpse of his own smile-lines in the rear-view mirror magnified through his glasses, he thinks maybe he gets it. They made it. They're alive. There's proof of it.

[kquil]

REMUS LUPIN | NOT SO SECRET ADMIRER PRT.2

REQUEST. : First I would like to say that I started following you because of Remus' imagine “Not so secret admirer” and my request is like a “continuation” with their first date, if possible ... ⏤ @jennieasfrance

TAGS. : reader is too shy ; but she warms up to things ; bookworm reader ; tutor remus ; puppy love ; remus has love eyes for you ; you have to pass exams ; hogsmeade weekend date with conditions

LENGTH : 1.3k

PART ONE

“Nice try, Moony,” Sirius pats his pitiful friend’s shoulder with an apologetic smile. It didn’t start off like this. In the beginning, when Remus first started trying to approach you, whenever he was able — in the great hall or in the corridors —, Sirius laughed at his friend’s miserable attempts but now… now it was just sad. 

“She called me pretty,” Remus sighs sadly, “so why is she always running away from me?” 

“Maybe you’re just too pretty?” Peter muses, scratching the back of his neck bashfully, “I know I wouldn’t dare approach anyone I thought was too pretty,” at his comment, James comes up behind the blonde to wrap an arm around his shoulders and give him a comforting squeeze. 

“Thanks Pete,” Remus musters a weak smile but it isn’t enough to lift his mood. His focus is nowhere in particular as he contemplates the karmic reasons for his current circumstance in love. It was even more difficult to approach you because you were a year younger and a Ravenclaw, meaning that you already spent little time together atop not being in the same year group. 

“At least you two have something in common,” Sirius sighs, his voice straining slightly as he stretches his arms up. 

“Yeah?” Remus prompts, flashing Peter a small smile as he watches James ruffle the dirty blonde’s hair affectionately. 

“You’re a pair of bookworms,” Sirius points to you entering the library with an impressive pile of borrowed books in your arms. Having followed the direction of Sirius’ finger, Remus smiles fondly at your charming mannerisms. A bookworm chasing another bookworm, how fitting. 

Despite his complaints, Sirius became the sole reason Remus spent even more of his spare time in the library — just to catch a glimpse of you. Studying, writing, reading for pleasure or for classes, he’s seen it all and he knows that you know he has. 

Ever since you’ve had that run in with Remus in the hallway, where you embarrassingly called him pretty before running away, he’s been appearing everywhere. It was so sudden, you didn’t know what to do. And he keeps making eye contact with you as well. It’s so flustering that you can’t help but run away. In the beginning, you weren’t able to register any of the emotions behind his eyes but after meeting his gaze so often…

“He’s looking at you the same way you look at him,” your best friend giggles into your ear and earns a shove to the shoulder that only makes her laugh even harder. It makes you frown before the librarian makes her way over and quickly reprimands her. Now you’re the one giggling. 

Remus sees all this and can’t help but sigh, a dopey smile on his face. You just look— ‘so pretty… I want to make her laugh like that all the time…’ Remus thinks to himself. 

“He’s in love…” Sirius gags to his right, his expression pulled into a look of repulsion “it’s so disgusting,” 

Remus rolls his eyes and continues to stare at you, “I’m not as bad as James,”

“Hey!” 

“True…” Sirius muses and is slowly followed by James grumbling pathetically as Peter rubs his back in comfort. 

Just as Remus rolls his eyes and turns his gaze towards you once more, you lock gazes; instead of immediately running away, Remus sees the beginnings of a smile on your lips before your face disappears behind a book. It took an entire month but he’s finally got his foot in the door! He could start singing if he wanted to!    

You weren’t running away anymore so Remus had some confidence that he could finally speak to you and have a proper conversation, he just needed to have the right entrance. 

“Is this seat taken?” Remus asks, holding his breath as he sees your grip on the book cover tighten. You don’t answer and simply stare up at him with your mouth agape so he sits down anyway, not too close but not too far away, “There weren’t any other seats, sorry,” you look around and immediately notice several free seats that he could have sat at. 

“U-Umm…”

“What are you reading there?” If there was one thing Remus learned from Sirius, it was that gentle persistence was key.

“...Standard book of spells, grade 5,” you reply in a soft voice, avoiding Remus’ eyes by focusing on the book in your hands. It seemed like you were both back to square one again since you completely avoided his eyes but he won’t be deterred. 

Remus has seen the large amount of parchment surrounding you when first approaching and now that he’s had a closer look, it’s easy to suspect why, “you have exams coming up?” you affirm his speculation with a hum and a nod, “would you like some help?” 

Whenever Remus saw you studying at the library, he’d take the nearest available seat and tutor you willingly, never taking ‘no’ for an answer— not that you could ever say ‘no’ to him, he wasn't even coercive; he always addressed you with the gentlest tone and with the kindest, most patient eyes you’ve ever been witness to. You were practically a puddle of gloo in the palm of his hands. That didn’t jeopardise your studies, however; Remus was an excellent teacher, better than half of the teachers in the school put together and your performance in class was skyrocketing.  

You saw Remus almost every day for three weeks and your exams were quickly approaching but, rather than become anxious over the approaching dates, you only grew excited at the prospect of proving yourself academically — it was the true Ravenclaw in you.

“Good job,” Remus praises and offers a square of chocolate that you immediately brighten at. These were one of the many highlights of your study dates with the older Gryffindor, he always carried bars of the sweet, creamy treat with him and loved conditioning you into thinking that the taste of academic success was chocolate. You had no complaints, however; you love chocolate and gave it your full, undivided attention whenever given a piece for a job well done. 

Beside you, Remus rests his chin on his palm and smiles in adoration of your precious appearance. You look too adorable eating your prized chocolate for Remus to not lovingly stare at you. It makes you all the more loveable to him and he’s grown addicted to the warm, fluttering feeling in his chest whenever you do something so lovably sweet — happily indulging in his many offerings of chocolate were one of those things. 

“Your exam is tomorrow, right?” Remus muses as you finish up your square of chocolate. 

“Yup!”

“You don’t seem worried,” lifting your gaze up, you find Remus smiling at you with such an admiring stare that you have to look away. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to such affectionate attention from someone that gives you butterflies. 

“I’m pretty confident,” 

“If you get a good grade, I’ll treat you to a butterbeer in the next Hogsmeade weekend,” his promise catches you off guard; you believed that your little ‘dates’ were restricted to school work only so his proposal and all of its implications warmed your chest like no other, “if not, then I’ll treat you to anything you want at Honeydukes,” 

“R-really?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” his eyes told you everything you needed to know to trust in his words. 

With a shy nod and a soft, “alright,” the date was set; both of you knew that you were going to pass with flying colours so there wasn’t any need for such a condition — Remus should have just asked you out plain and simple but… he gets shy around you too. In a spontaneous act of courage, however, Remus leans over and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, holding your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger. 

With mutually hot cheeks, you two look into each other’s eyes with awe, “I really hope you get those grades,” he whispers just as a small assembly of gasps, encouraging shouts, shoving and hitting could be heard in the background. The marauders sat across from you, on a separate table, and saw the bold move Remus just made. And, of course, it was their job to embarrass him as much as possible by purely uplifting his romantic venture. 

“Way to go, Moony!”

“Scored a date, did ya’?! Lucky bastard!”

“Save some forehead kisses for us too, okay?” As Sirius flutters his lashes dramatically, Remus takes the book in his hand and whacks them all upside the head as you remain seated with your racing thoughts and pounding heart. 

“Shut your trap, we’re in the library,” Remus scolds, voice stern and eyes cold, a contrast to his usually soft demeanour around you. It was quite attractive seeing a different side to him. And, like clockwork, you begin to daydream of the brunette, eyes still fixed on his tall, broad figure when he turns to face you with a smile, as beautiful as can be.

You really hope you get those grades too… 

PART 3 →

A/N : this was highly requested and was also requested for my recent 1k milestone event. i'm sorry this took such a long time to write, the request was for a first date scenario and i suppose the do go on a date (several dates) in this part but it's not official, i think a third part is on its way for their real first date

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @chullu-bhar-paani @rosalyn-s @nottherealslimshady

(again, i took the liberty of tagging people who expressed their interest for a part 2 in the first timestamp - i hope that's okay with you darlings)

[the-kr8tor]

Hobie with a s/o who wears glasses? He would tease them for being such a nerd but he’s the more nerdier one in the relationship. Imagine the glasses get in the way of when he tries to kiss you also yk how in his intro he smashed that alarm clock I bet he’s done that to your glasses once in a while. Not his fault he has super strength

Cute!! As a glasses wearer myself, I love this request! Thank you ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for the glasses), CW blood, CW injury. FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Your heart is hammering against your chest, pulse quickening, eyes wide and hands sweaty. Despite your nerves, you lean in. Hobie inches closer to you, hands cradling your face, warmth fanning across your searing cheeks. He looks confident, a giddy smile on his lips, piercings shining from the porch light. He's stunning, and always so suave, but you have no idea the effect you have on him.

He looks past the lens of your glasses to gaze at your eyes, eyes that are blown out, eyes that look at him with adoration. If only you knew that his mind is a slurry that is full of thoughts about you, you, you, and you. You make his entire world light up with just one look that he's more than happy to bask in.

Hobie loves your glasses because he can see how lovestruck his reflection looks whenever he stares at you. He loves how gorgeous you look in it too. He once joked that you look like a sexy librarian, and now all your flirty comments are book or library themed which sometimes make him laugh and fancy you more with your dorky attempts at flirting. He wouldn't have it any other way though.

You two have been on exactly three dates together, all of them being so successful that it always has you giggling and kicking your legs the second he drops you home. All of those three dates are a culmination of tonight, the second he asked you if it was okay for him to say goodbye with a kiss, you did not hesitate to say yes at his proposal.

Hobie closes the remaining distance, index finger tapping on your cheek for one last permission. Your smile says it all, and he presses his lips against yours eagerly. Too eagerly in fact that your glasses squish your face and your eyelids, acting as a barrier. If your eyes weren't closed, your glasses might've poked your eyes out.

The nose pads poke the bridge of your nose uncomfortably, but you're way into the tender kiss to lean away. How could you stop kissing him when the kiss is better than what your daydreams could make up? Hobie senses how you try to breathe through your nose, and how you move your head to the side slightly so your glasses don't stab through your searing skin. Still holding your face, thumb rubbing along your bottom lip, he chuckles at the lopsided glasses on your face.

Eyes wide, you wonder if you did something wrong for him to laugh. Hobie stomps on that feeling quickly by gently fixing your glasses for you.

Hands on the side of it, grin still spread across his kiss bitten lips, he taps your now foggy lenses. “Sorry, your glasses are all fogged up because of me. All my fault, love.” He jokes and you laugh, the simple giggle has him wanting to kiss you again.

“It's alright, I got a kiss from it.” You tease back, he beams at you, and you can tell he wants to kiss you again. Or maybe it's just you thinking with all the sweet fog of affection blurring your vision? “Do you want to fog it up again? Y’know just in case it ends up clean this time.”

“An experiment then?” He shrugs, doing the bit with you. “For science then.” He kisses and kisses you until there's no breath in your lungs, and you kiss back until he has to hold onto the doorknob for balance.

—

Watching a movie while cuddled up to a thick blanket is great. Watching a movie with Hobie for the first time in his houseboat while cuddled up to him is so much better though. Rain bangs on the roof, adding to the cozy atmosphere. Hobie pulls you closer as if you weren't already close enough to him. Hip to hip, legs on top of his legs, you press your cheek on his bicep, glasses wonky from the position, you yawn into his jumper, snuggling impossibly closer.

Hobie sees how sleepy you are, of course he noticed because he hasn't even looked at the tv screen for ten minutes now. He was too busy memorizing your expressions whenever something happened in the movie. Your glasses reflect the screen anyway, so he didn't miss much of the movie.

“Bored?” He squeezes your hand that has been intertwined with his own under the blanket since the movie started.

“No, tired. This movie is just too long.” You peer at him through heavy eyelids, lashes stuck together from how you keep rubbing your eyes. “Why didn't they just ride the eagles in the first place?”

Hobie couldn't help but peck your forehead, you can feel his smile against your skin. “How ‘bout we finally sleep then? So you'd stop slanderin’ this perfect movie.”

You scrunch up your nose, glasses lifted up from the movement. “It’s a good movie, Hobie, but it has some flaws—” You joke, he shakes his head and then flings the blanket over your head.

“Alright, enough from you.” He pauses the tape, and then throws away the blanket into a pile in the corner of the settee. You would think he was annoyed by your comment but his grin and outstretched hand says otherwise. “C’mon, love, let's head to bed.”

You look up at him with a pout. “But I want to keep hanging out with you. Like a real sleepover.”

“A sleepover is for best mates,” he flexes his fingers, “we're clearly not just best mates.” His words make you all fuzzy inside. “D’you want to braid my hair and put a face mask on me just like in sleepovers or somethin’?”

“Can I paint your nails too?” You ask teasingly. In truth, you just want to talk to him longer. Because you know once your head hits the pillow that has his scent all over, it's light's out for you.

“Of course, love.” You finally take his hand, “as long as I pick the colour.”

—

The rest of the night goes off without a hitch, you chatted through the night, and with a few smooches here and there, you slept like a baby in his arms.

Hobie wakes up with a start, his alarm clock blares loudly into the quiet of his room. Not wanting to wake you up with the loud ring, he quickly punches blindly on his bedside table. Something cracks under his knuckles, yet the ringing still doesn't stop.

“Shit.” His breath hitches in his throat. Carefully prying himself off you, (which he didn't want to do) he peeks over the table. Lo and behold, his fear just happened, he has crushed your precious glasses under his fist. Glass is littered all over the table, shards upon sharp shards falling off his hand. The frame isn't any better, it has bent into a fist shape, looking like a truck drove over it. Damn his enhanced strength.

You wake up with a snort, the harsh ringing of the alarm still echoes in your ears. With one eye open, Hobie's toned back greets you.

“Oho good morning to you too.” You poke the small of his back.

Instead of a smile, he frowns at you. A second later, you see the cause of it. Hobie holds up your broken glasses by the tip of it, you can barely recognize it from how mangled it looked. Eyes wide, you see that his hand has shards of glass sticking out, palm starting to bleed.

“Holy shit.” You sit up, taking his wrist gingerly.

“‘m sorry, love, I thought it was the alarm.” He says sadly.

“I've got a spare, Hobie,” you almost chuckle at his tone if not for how genuinely sad he sounded. “Besides, your hand is bleeding. Where's your first aid kit?” He's astonished at how nonchalant you took the news of him breaking your glasses in two. He points towards his bathroom, before he could stop you, you're already halfway across the room.

—

Your spare glasses now sit on your face as you dab antiseptic on the small cuts. He watches on with the same sweet gaze, you're absolutely concentrated on his hand, making sure that every cut is properly cleaned. The wounds barely hurt now thanks to you. He sighs loudly to get your attention.

“You okay?” You ask, bandaging the last cut.

“Better now—” Hobie clamps his mouth shut when you begin to kiss his fingers. The intimacy of it all has him melting with every kiss from you. You can feel how his pulse quickens since you're holding on to his wrist, thinking his injury has him all worried. You clearly have no idea the effect you have on him.

“There, all better.” You look up at him to see a rare flustered Hobie. A smile spreads across your lips, “I can tell you feel better now.”

“You kiddin’ me? A little bit of a warnin’ next time, love.”

“Okay, I'll tell you before I start kissing you.”

“...‘m gonna kiss you now.” He declares. Cradling your face, you laugh and nod an approval. Before he leans in, he places his hands around your glasses. “Can I take this off? Don't wanna accidentally fog it up again, or worse.”

“Okay, just kiss me already, Hobart.” You could barely finish the sentence before a laugh escapes from your throat.

“Usin’ my government name and everythin’ huh?” Carefully taking the glasses off, you welcome the sudden blurriness, it adds to your anticipation. “So bloody rude of you. Guess I have to kiss the rudeness off of you.”

[tteokdoroki]

so jock yuuji and weird girl reader right? am i right?

weird girl who is the one who initiates any form of hostility. jocks arent jerks by defaults, yuuji definitely not. weird girl sees the world in popular / unpopular, uninteresting / interesting, pretty / meaningful, and general black / white thinking. extremes.

yuuji would just have no idea any of this is going on. like why is she mad at me. i wanted to ask her about the keychain on her bag. whyd she accept my follow request but not follow me back.

i love the dynamic of jaded reader x clueless blorbo!!! where they are both somewhat attracted to eachother the more they observe eachother around campus, but one pulls closer and the other pushes him away!!

jock yuuji def hangs out in the gymnasium instead of going to class btw. plays music out loud on his speakers thru the halls. if u even care. he carries around one of those big ass water bottles and he never got a backpack w him. just showing up to econ with nothing but a drawstring bag of ground down pencils and vibes

𖤐๋࣭ — JOCK BF!YUUJI ENTRY #9. first meetings.

about. a scenario in which the campus’ favourite jock lays eyes on his future freaky girlfriend for the first time.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, meet cute, jock bf!itadori, weird gf + fem!reader.

imagine yuuji signing up to one of your classes and he kinda makes a fool of himself on the first day. like he shows up late because practice ran over, his laptop his dead and he doesn’t have a pen but your professor (and it’s taken like two years for you to have gotten on his good side) just lets it SLIDE !!! so you’ve already got your back up with yuuji — thinking he’s some dumb jock here to mess around in your class !!!

he takes the seat right next to you of course, introduces himself to you with a sunshine smile that keeps on burning even when you cut your eyes at him and ignore the poor guy. yuuji even goes as far as to ask you for a pen half way through the lecture — and your heart stops when your fingers brush as you pass one to him. he’s a stupid jock, you remind yourself, he’s probably just making fun of you.

the pink haired jock never leaves you alone after that day!! he says hi to you in the halls at dorms he visits or on the way to the library — his music playing obnoxiously through the speaker he carries even when the librarian politely tells him to quiet down.

yuuji sits with you at study cubicles every week even though you’ve made it clear that you don’t want anything to do with him — but he follows you on Instagram, and asks you for notes from your shared classes, texts you about the socials coming up (even though you never go to them). and even though you think that he’s annoying… itadori is charming in a way.

he’s good to his friends, knows all of his teachers by name, he even studies hard — despite you thinking that he doesn’t.

maybe you misjudged itadori, maybe you were a little too harsh.

maybe you’re starting to think better of him, and he can kind of tell when wave him over to sit next to you during class and lend him the same pen you gave him when you’d first met.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[arxxq]

𝐖𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑..

[ 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 <3 !! ]

writing for my favorite characters: itoshi rin, akabane karma, sano manjiro

itoshi rin - mentions a guitarist reader,

akabane karma- mentions of rivals troupe,

manjiro sano- grumpy girl x sunshine boy,

: any mistakes will either be left unedited or will be edited when I do so, english is not my native language so be warned, I do not support plagiarism, do not steal my works, mentions of female reader in my head but not to worry it's all gender neutral, if used she/her pronounce it's because I imagine the reader as a female I apologize for that :

"a beauty just like your melody..." :

: itoshi rin is someone who's known to be cold and reserved to most others, some find him to be unapproachable and some find his demeanor is intimidating and some admire him for his talents, achievements and his hard work which makes it hard to believe he had someone to begin with..but he did and it was with one of the most talented guitarist in the whole school [name]. no one knew what was going on between them but some just assume they were just close friends since childhood but little did they know the two of them had a little thing going on,

it was after school, there they were one strumming their guitar while the other listened to their playing. the teal eyed man had his gaze on them so mesmerized at their beauty. once they finished [name] felt like they were being stared at so they giggled and looked at him. "did you enjoy the song or was your mind occupied somewhere else?" rin was unfazed but he let out a small chuckle which was very rare. "yk I love you right?" they were taken aback but laughed. "more than soccer?" the boy rolled his eyes "I hate to admit but I do love you more than soccer" :

"I hate you...I hate myself for that too"

: Everyone knew the hatred [name] held for akabane karma and I think it goes the same way for him as well, they were rivals since junior high even. [name] hated that red headed boy for everything, how he was better than him in most things, how cocky he gets, his behavior. basically everything. what made them hate despise him more was that he was always either one or two above her. it was time where mid years were about to come, [name] was in the library studying and it was late at night, by now no one was in the library except them and the librarian. They were getting tired and their mood was ruined. what made it worse was when they heard that voice.

"Oh well you look at that, it's miss perfect studying" that annoying voice rang in their head. "What do you want akabane?" she said with a hoarse voice. "In fact what are you even doing here," the boy studied [name]'s face and how visibly tired she looked. "Just returning a book...you should get a break you know and try and not get too worked out?" They scoffed. "I'm serious...you shouldn't get worked up," [name] glared at him. "Why the fuck do you care?" The boy was getting annoyed by their stubborn behavior. "Well believe it or not I'm not a dick like how you see me to be," he yelled. Lucky for them the librarian didn't hear "I hate you...I hate you I fucking do. I hate how you always manage to one up me, how you don't care about what people say to you, how you don't care about fitting it...I hate you and I hate myself for that" [name] admitted. The boy was taken aback. "Well believe it or not I don't hate you....I never did so let's start a new beginning for me and you?" He sat down beside you and smiled "I'd..I'd like that.."

"You're always so grumpy cheer up!"

: sano manjiro, [name] did not know how they got together in the first place because in the beginning of the year they were complaining about how immature Mikey is and how he keeps skipping class. they also complained how he is in a gang which isn't really good but now here they are together with him. At first [name] found him intimidating and everything but after getting to know him he was basically just such a big baby and pain to deal with. In their relationship they're basically the grumpy one one in the relationship.

"[Name] let's get dorayaki!" Mikey says ecstatic while the girl was not in the mood at the moment. "No please let's not I'm too tired for this Mikey!" She complains. "Come on loosen up" he drags her to his motorcycle. "Mikey don't you dare drive at an insane spee-! Mikey!" From afar draken and Emma were laughing at their odd relationship. "Those two are really something aren't they ken?" Draken laughed. "they really are"

Authors note:

my favorite characters <3 but if you ask me between all my favorites karma will always have a special place in my heart ngl. You don't know how much I love assassination classroom to this day. It will always have a small special place in my heart and I honestly don't mind that at all.

sincerely your dear author !

-Arxx/Hasinah.

All rights reserved do not plagiarize !

[rustedhearts]

blue christmas (boxer!steve harrington x fem!librarian reader)

summary: it's christmas time, and your boyfriend's traveling the country kicking ass. will he make it home in time—or will you be spending christmas alone?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring (1989) ✶ christmas carols ✶ main masterlist

tags: christmas!; descriptors for libby's friends but of course, not libby; kinda hurt/comfort (she's just a sad girl!); fluff; alcohol consumption; nothing major.

"i'll have a blue christmas without you. i'll be so blue just thinking about you. decorations of red on a green christmas tree, won't be the same dear, if you're not here with me."

— blue christmas, elvis presley

hawkins, indiana. december 1989.

“I can’t believe you won’t be here.”

The ribboned rubber of the telephone cord curled around your finger. You pouted at the flowered fabric of your bedspread, imagining Steve in a little Christmas sweater he’d never wear—but he’d be here. Cozy, warm, big and bulky under layers of cable-knit.

Christmas was in three days, and your boyfriend wouldn’t even be here.

“I know, angel,” Steve sighed through the phone. “‘m sorry. I wish I could."

And he does. It's your first holiday season together—your first winter full of fluffy white snow, and cold afternoons that make you want to curl up and sleep the days away. It was the season of love and affection; the time of the year meant for nuzzling noses and burying in coats for warmth.

You imagined so many times what the holiday season would look like if Steve were here to stroll through the town square holding your mittened hand. He'd come up for weekends—twice since the beginning of November—but it was never long enough. He'd get in Friday night, and have to leave Sunday morning. You never got to sleep in and feign domestic bliss, tangled in his sheets in the white, early light.

Too many times, Steve kissed your head in a half sleep and whispered his goodbye; a note on his pillow where his head was supposed to be.

Angel,

I'll miss you more than ever.

—Steve

"Me too," you mumbled, pout evident in the huff and puff of your quiet words. You let your chin fall to your arm propped on the edge of your bed, glaring ahead at your wallpaper.

The house fogged with warmth from a home-cooked meal roasting in the oven downstairs. Your mother had a jazzy Christmas tune pipping from the stereo on the counter. Your father—last you checked forty minutes ago—was reading the paper in his armchair beneath the yellow lamplight of the living room. Your brother was somewhere up the street getting into trouble with his friends, driven to boredom without school to keep them busy. You had a Christmas party to attend tomorrow night, and you still hadn't picked an outfit, or wrapped your Secret Santa gift.

"Baby," Steve sighed. "C'mon, don't...don't make me feel bad."

You rolled onto your back. "I'm not, I'm not...I'm sorry."

Commotion clattered behind Steve—hotel doors opening and closing, voices muttering. The bed springs squeaked with his shifting. Your chest ached and squeezed with what you already knew was coming.

"I gotta go, angel...I'll call you later, alright? Be good f' me?"

You pinched your eyes shut, willing the stinging to stop. You nodded without words a moment, and then heard the buzz of his waiting. "Okay...love you."

"Love you too, baby. Bye."

"Blue Christmas" spun on Lisa's turn table in the sunken den of her parent's basement living room. Still stuck in 1975 and decorated by her mother for the sole purpose of hosting cocktail parties, it was the perfect place for Lisa to hold her first "adult" holiday party: pink shag carpet, silver-tinseled Christmas tree, pastel wrapping and perfect bows, and geometric decor of diamonds and stars on the wood-paneled wall.

Lisa, Holly, Tammy (and even yourself) dressed in their best getups, hair and makeup perfected for Polaroids. They already snapped enough to cover the end table, and in every single one, your smile never met your eyes. You were too concerned with ruining Lisa's highly-anticipated party to be a drag, but the lack of Steve really weighed on you.

"Oh, honey," Holly sighed, padding her way over to you. She flopped onto the sofa beside you, arm wrapped around your shoulders. "You miss him real bad, huh?"

You sighed, head falling onto her arm. "That obvious?"

She sipped her (fourth) cocktail—something red and fruity and rimmed with crushed candy cane. "You haven't spoken a word in thirty minutes. It was just a hunch."

"I thought he'd at least...try to be here. I mean, he doesn't have a fight until next week. He could fly back and forth—but maybe that's...not right of me to ask that."

Holly hummed, setting her coupe glass on the Polaroid table. She turned to you, blonde hair neatly curled and pinned on either side, and pursed her glossy mouth.

"It's not too much to ask, hun. If he wanted to be here, he'd be here. He said he loves you, then he wouldn't miss your first Christmas together."

You peered at her, wondering if this were true. From their place near the tree, arranging gifts and flicking through Elvis albums, Lisa and Tammy looked up.

"Oh, that's not true!" Tammy squawked. "He's just busy. They're talkin' about him all the way in New York now."

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, stomach twisting. "They are?"

If Steve were truly gaining popularity across the east coast, you had more than just a missed Christmas to worry about. You sensed its arrival—his fame and popularity. Steve was up and coming, and he had an aggression not many fighters had these days. He had the drive, the passion, the determination. You saw it all in his eyes. You knew he wouldn't stop until he was the best, and he wasn't afraid to make the sacrifices necessary to be just that.

And maybe it was selfish of you to want him all to yourself—but you've never felt this way about anyone before. Steve was everything.

"Oh, Libby," Lisa cooed, hurriedly rushing your way. Tammy followed, and soon they were all surrounding you, perched on the sofa and the coffee table.

"It'll be okay! He loves you, it's so obvious. You just have to realize...maybe his career will always come first. You just have to find a way to be okay with that," Lisa offered meekly.

You nodded, but only because your tongue felt like lead in your mouth. The girls glanced at each other momentarily, and then Holly stood in a flash of sparkly, bubblegum pink and glitter.

"Well, to hell with Steve! Let's get drunk and open presents."

The glasses drained themselves, really. The records spun and scratched, the pretty, gilded wrapping paper shred to pieces, and the girls in the den soon became nothing but giggling messes. When you got bored of the music, you turned to the television, turning the knob until you reached a fuzzy, pixelated picture of It's A Wonderful Life, though the static-y voices fell on deaf ears.

"Oh, it's darling, Libby, really," Holly gushed, holding up the pink satin slip you gifted her for Christmas.

Holly was easiest to shop for—she'd be pleased with anything pink, soft, and fancy.

"I'm glad you—hic!—like it. And I love my book, Tammy. It's so beautiful."

The book, a cloth-bound classic, was wine-colored and gorgeous. It was so pretty you didn't even want to put it on the shelf. It would sit on your dresser for a little while to look at.

Lisa gave Tammy a pair of red Mary Janes, and Holly gave Lisa a new set of hot rollers. The remains of the wrapping paper sat in bits and pieces around you on the carpet, and you had to shoo away Lisa's cocker spaniel, Lady, before she ate it all. She trudged into your lap, shedding soft hair over your dress as you stroked her long, floppy ears, watching the pink-flushed faces of your friends through the glowing white light of the Christmas tree.

Despite Steve's absence, you were happy. You had your friends.

The giggles faded when the doorbell rang through the house. Lisa waved it off, peering up the steps of the den toward the first floor. "Probably just a caroler. Ignore it."

But the doorbell rang again. Lisa huffed, and Tammy and Holly giggled as she fumbled up the steps. In her absence, they turned to you, all gushing over each other's presents and asking after more cocktails. They kissed at Lady in your lap and tossed popcorn at her waiting mouth, and you fell in line with the amusement until Lisa's socked feet came flapping into the room.

"Libby, Steve's here."

You weren't sure you heard her right. The giggles dwindled again, and your hand stilled over Lady's head in a half-stroke. Your heart was in your mouth, pulsing dumbly.

"W-what?"

Lisa, out of breath and wide-eyed, had her hands on her hips with an ecstatic smile. "He's here. Steve, he's here—he's waiting outside."

"Well, for God's sake, Lisa, why didn't you invite him in?" Tammy chimed in.

Lisa shot her a glare. "He said he'd wait outside for her! Probably heard your cackling and got too scared to come in."

Holly soothed your friend's sting with a half-hug around Tammy's shoulders, but you were still numb. You carefully scooped Lady up and placed her on the floor, away from the wrapping paper. You pushed to your feet, smoothing down the skirt of your dress. You put your book on the sofa, and turned to your friends still on the floor.

"Do I...do I look alright?"

"Gorgeous, babe," Holly beamed. "Let me just..."

She stood, reaching up to fix your hair. She fluffed it, poofed it, found your purse on a hook near the door and spritzed your perfume at the crown of your head, and under your ears. She handed you your lipgloss and a mirror, and when you were content with the pink-eyed doeness of your appearance, you stepped toward the stairs.

"Go, go!" Lisa ushered you, giving you a nudge.

You steadied yourself on the wall, steps careful and cautious. Those drinks made you a little woozy, but nothing felt as fuzzy as the thought of Steve waiting for you in the snow. He came all the way here, for you. Your cheeks warmed at the very thought. Your stomach crawled its way up to your throat.

You made your way through the house, taking one last glance in the nearest mirror, before pulling open the door.

A cold rush immediately burst into the house, but any thought of shivering fled your mind at the sight of Steve looming before your eyes. Brown leather coat, black sweater, Levi jeans tight at the hips and loose at the calves. He had his hands cupped around his mouth, blowing hot, white air into his palms—but at the sound of your steps, at the scent of you, he stopped.

All you could do, for just a moment, was stare. Three long weeks since you last saw him—those perfect, round hazel eyes, those high, rosy cheeks. The tip of his nose was wind-nipped pink, the tops of his ears blown red. He smelled like vetiver and leather cologne, and he looked beautiful.

"Oh, Steve."

You crashed into his chest, arms wound tight around his stomach. He enveloped you in his own, holding you as close as he could; and the warmth of him immediately melded with yours. You buried your nose into his chest and hummed, eyes pinched shut just to hold onto this. This moment, this scene, this feeling of him so close after so long apart. You didn't want to let go.

"Merry Christmas, angel," he whispered, and then his mouth sat atop your head, pressing it into a kiss.

When the cold got unbearable, you pulled Steve inside. Fingers intertwined and cheeks sore with grinning, you skipped your way back down to the den where your friends feigned innocence despite their heaving breaths.

"Well look who's here," Holly cooed, watching you tug Steve down the steps.

You giggled, tipping into his side, one foot coming to kick up giddily. You felt like a schoolgirl with her very first crush. That's how love should always be, right?

"Steve, you know everyone. This is Lisa, Holly, and Tammy. Girls, this is Steve."

Your friends waggled their fingers in bashful little waves, and Steve lifted a wide palm in hello. You could smell the Marlboros on his coat, see the outline of a new pack in the front of his pocket. His hands were starting to warm up against your own.

"And this is Lady," you cooed, watching the cocker spaniel sniff at Steve's boots.

You dipped down and scooped her up, bringing her up against your chest to wave a tiny paw at Steve. He cracked a sideways smile, reaching out to scratch at her chin. You let her scamper back over toward the girls by the tree, and turned to Steve with your fingers looped together behind your back.

You could barely contain the giddy glee flooding through your body. Steve noticed. He nicked you under the chin with a gentle knuckle, and another small kiss placed on your sticky mouth.

"You girls been drinkin'?" he gruffed, thumb pressing on your bottom lip.

You shrugged. "A little. It's Christmas, Steve."

He hummed, eyeing the dazzled, feminine setup of the room. A mess of pretty paper, tinsel knocked astray, empty coupe glasses and picked-at pigs-in-a-blanket and bowls of snacks, a dog sniffing around for scraps and attention—harmless, he decided. Maybe even sweet.

As if waiting for his approval, and recognizing the submission, Steve turned back to you with a small smile. "Okay."

You took him by the hand again, tugging him toward the tree. "Come on."

But Steve paused, tugging you with just the resistance of his solid stance, snapping back like a rubber-band.

"Wait, honey..." You turned to him, and he reached into the lining of his coat. "Got somethin' for you."

He pulled out a slim, black velvet box. You pressed your lips into a smile and huddled close.

"But, Steve...yours is at home—"

"—shh. Just open it."

You were acutely aware of your friends craning to see over your shoulder from their place on the floor, petting mindlessly at Lady and munching at shortbread. But in this moment, it was just you and Steve. And he watched you intently once he handed over the box, gnawing at his own lip. God, he wanted a smoke. He just wanted you to love it.

You pushed the box open, hinges snapping back to reveal a navy blue satin lining, and a gorgeous golden locket strung inside. An "S" sat etched on the center of an intricately engraved heart, adorned with swirling roses on a delicate chain.

"Oh, Steve." It was all you seemed to be able to say today.

"D' you like it?" he asked, voice edged with worry.

You fingered at the locket, feeling the cool metal. "I love it, Steve. It's gorgeous."

He exhaled. "Good. Lemme put it on."

With fingers too big for such delicate things, he plucked the necklace from its box and pulled the clasp open. You spun around, moving your hair out of the way for his hands. With your back to him, you could properly convey your excitement to your friends, who mirrored your beaming grin with equal delight.

The locket rested perfectly in the center of your chest, and once clasped, you felt it against your skin with your palm.

"Thank you, Steve. I love it so much."

Steve, hands braced on your shoulders, tipped his head and kissed your cheek. "Anything, angel. It's all yours."

Lisa snapped the head of a gingerbread-man cookie off with her teeth, and Holly cooed. Tammy busied herself with the dog.

But you had a band of butterflies in your stomach and a drum line in your chest, and you turned to look up at Steve with nothing but adoration.

"Look inside." He nudged his nose toward the locket again.

Wedging a nail between the hinges, you popped the heart open. A crudely-cut picture of yourself and Steve—so minuscule it would be difficult to discern from a blob if you hadn't recognized the very moment captured in time—sat in a black and white fashion in the heart.

Another smile at Steve, loving and sweet. "Who knew you were so romantic, Steve Harrington?"

He tucked his bruised fists into his coat pockets and shrugged. "I try."

Steve had hours before he had to leave and a plane ticket burning a hole in his back pocket—but it was Christmas, and he'd do anything, even blow off his coach and a team full of people, if it meant seeing your pretty face.

"Merry Christmas, angel."

The softest of kisses shared between warm mouths. Strawberry-cigarette smooches were what life was all about.

"Merry Christmas, Steve."

[yourlittlebunnyy]

okay but i can't stop thinking about perv!tamlin that learned how to draw just because he wanted to capture you forever. and I'm not talking about a silly and cute thing. no, that male is obsessed.

perv!tamlin literally has a whole drawer filled with sketchbooks. he doesn't let anyone near his chambers not because they're his, but because of those drawings. you are for his eyes only and he couldn't live knowing others can see how pretty you are.

the first he felt the need to draw you was when you were playing in his gardens. it was an innocent thought. you just looked so beautiful, kissed by the sun and tanning in a little spring dress. your smile was contagious and it was that that made tamlin grab a pencil and a piece of paper. that sketch was his first and honestly? not even that good. but the memories it brings every time he looks at it... if he had to describe the exact same moment he fell in love with you, he would show that drawing.

it started to become less innocent as he started to become more obsessed with you. as i said, in the beginning, it was such a silly crush. he would look at you through the window in his study, admiring as you played with little pets or grabbed some pretty flowers. then he started following you. he started to skip his own duties to find out more about you. he quickly found out that you are a librarian, and live in his palace.

perv!tamlin really became one when he, as every other day, watched you discreetly hidden between to bookcases full of books. you were so cute, talking to everybody and helping them. he was feeling a little jealous, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

usually, during lunch time, the library is always empty. that means you have more time for you, to relax and rest. you often grab a book and read.

today was no exception, you wondered for a bit through the shelters and found a book that caught your interest. tamlin continued to observe you. his intentions today were to draw you reading, since you look so elegant and classy and smart when you wear your glasses and make that concentrated expression.

he watches as you open your book on the page you have left, he quickly grabs his pencils and start to work as you read. his expression is just as concentrated as yours. even some wrinkles appear on his forehead.

a movement grabs his attention, tho. the sound echoing in the empty room, he looks around, wondering what was that. but it's you. you look around with burning cheeks and he needs a few seconds to understand what's actually happening. the scent in the air changes, something sweeter, thicker even. its you. you just got turned on for something you must have read.

he stays as still as possible, praying that you wont see him hiding between the shelters, and his prayers are answered. he doesnt even care about the sketch anymore, his eyes are fixated on you and your gestures as you quickly slide a hand under your dress. his cock gets hard in seconds. this is like a fever dream to him, but he doesnt care. he will savor this moment as much as he can. he only hopes that you wont scent him, but you look too lost in your pleasure anyway.

he can fucking smell your wetness, he can hear the squelching of your sex as you fuck yourself with your fingers. he could have never imagined you were such a dirty girl. he palms his hardness imprisoned under the fabric of his pants, unsure of what to do. he could jerk off like a perv hidden here, watching you enjoy yourself. he could draw you in this exact same moment, with your head thrown back from the pleasure and your lips parted, little puff of air coming out ragged. he opts for the last one. if he can make this moment last forever on paper, then he could have you whenever he wants.

perv!tamlin, at the end, kept his promise. every night comes back from a particularly annoying meeting, he just needs to open that little secret drawer and move some clothes. his sketchbook will always be there, you will always be there. the number of times he came to your drawings his sick, but he stopped feeling shame a long time ago. for him, this is the purest form of love💚

main masterlist

[aezuria]

hiii i love ur writing sm!! i was wondering if u would do leo valdez x reader headcanons? ty!!!

*ੈ✎ keep your head still, i'll be your thrill

—all the small things, blink-182

content: leo valdez x reader

warnings: cursing again

librarian's annotations: the title has no connection to the hcs but it came up while i was writing this also IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER 🙏🙏🙏

super clingy i do not make the rules

oh you thought you were gonna get up and be productive?? not today!

fuck everyone else tbh

LOVEEES gossip sessions with u

hes so invested in all the drama u have

probably laying on his stomach and swinging his feet and gasping incredulously. "what!? no she did not..."

got very pouty that you did not invite him to the girls night bc he didnt want to "miss out on the tea" (lwk stealing from my own work oops)

who can blame him tbh

LOVE LOVES DANCING

loves teaching u too (even if u suck)

like imagine him holding your waist and moving you to the beat as you fumble along, his chest pressed up against your own

GOOD LORD

"forward, back, left- there you go," he murmured into your ear, looking down at your feet. you stepped on his shoes a lot more than you should've; did he ever think that his proximity was why you were messing up!?

"you suck at this, don't you?" he laughed, but twirled you around anyway.

"did you ever think you're just a shit teacher?"

"rude!"

also this man was born a star

can probably hit super high notes as if its nothing

ok so we all know how hes a genius right

oh my GOD imagine him explaining how his stuff works and using words you're sure don't even exist and he's so into it and he just sounds so SMART

intelligence is so attractive why does no one talk abt that

you wanted to watch him work on the engine, so you pulled up a stool next to him. you stared at his side, his tank top dirty with grease and sticky with sweat. how long had he been working since you got here?

you'd get mad at him for not taking a break later. right now? you were admiring the view. who wouldn't?

"hey leo?"

he hummed in response, still hyper-focused on the engine.

"how does all that work, exactly?" you were never one for machines—good thing you have a mechanic boyfriend!

he looks to you, a happy glimmer in his eyes. "you really wanna know? so basically— this part connects to that part and then..."

you don't know how long you've been zoned out, too busy staring at his perfect

"y/n?" he finally realizes you haven't been paying attention. "you with me, now?" he raises an eyebrow with a grin on his face.

"huh? what?" you straightened up, fumbling over your words. "yeah! why wouldn't i be?" you tried to act as if you weren't just ogling him seconds before.

"oh y'know.. cause you were checking me out." he winked, leaning back against the engine as he put himself on display. "i mean, you obviously couldn't help it. i mean, look at me!"

someone humble him

its not like he doesn't do the same tho

if he accidentally walks in on you he'd be like "oh my gods-! sorry!" and cover his eyes with his hands, but his fingers are parted so he could still look through. literally the 🫣 emoji

"GET OUT!"

"OKAY I'M GOING DON'T HIT ME- OW!"

he is SUPER ticklish and you WILL use this to your advantage

esp his ears

one time you touched them out of curiosity cause theyre pointer than average and he was like "eek!"

pause

"aww i didn't know you could make that sound!" you poked some more fun at him because that was adorable

"shut up!"

another time he's laying on you, ruining your plans of getting up early and being active. you tried rolling out from underneath him but his arms snake around you like a vice, squeezing a groan out of you.

"leo get off!" you tried shoving him off, but that didn't work either. he simply buried his face into your neck, mumbling a tired no.

you really had shit to do, so you resorted to the last possible tactic. "i didn't wanna have to do this..." you warned. (you so wanted to do this)

you slipped your hands under his shirt and started tickling his stomach, effectively getting him writhing off you with laughter.

"stop-! that tickles!" he tried doing the same back, but he was squirming far too much.

ok real talk now

love loves staying up late with you until its past midnight and you guys are just rambling about random topics. he's just so relaxed with you, his heart feels so full and there's no space anymore, so his bottled up emotions spill out

which is usually a closely-guarded secret because he's just the funny guy of the group, right?

what does he know about feelings? isn't it his job to just keep everyone else happy? joking about everything will take away the pain, won't it?

(it doesn't)

"i don't know, i just- feel like i don't really fit in with everyone. they all have these cool powers, and i'm just.. me." he laughed dryly, face devoid of his usual happiness as he stared at the ceiling. "sometimes, i feel like you could do so much better. but at the same time?" his voice lowered as he rolled onto his side, staring into your eyes. "i want to keep you to myself. i really, really don't want to lose you."

you were glad he finally opened up to you, but your heart ached at the way he thought of himself. how could he not see how highly everyone thought of him, especially you?

"just you? leo, you're the coolest person i know. you're so, so smart, you can fix just about anything, you're funny, you're kind, you can cook; what's not to love?" you smiled softly. you could go on and on about this man. for him to think that he was the lucky one? it was quite the opposite.

"and you don't have to worry," you whispered, cuddling closer to him and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "i'll always be with you."

[hitomisuzuya]

scaramouche as a bully.. y/n snapping at him.. full nelson in a empty classroom.. doors unlocked..

Boom 💥

Bully! Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Some degradation because it's Bully Scara.

I have never written this position before😳 I am def. going be blushing the whole time I write this. If the description sounds jank, it's because I was flustered typing it😭

Scaramouche was a menace. He had a unique way of showing that he liked you. By relentlessly picking on you. He snapped up any opportunity he got.

The university had big library. Today, you were helping the librarian put returned books back on the shelves. You were always so disgustingly considerate of other people. He didn't understand it.

When Scaramouche saw you walking down the hall with an arm full of books, drinking from a water bottle as you walked he made his way towards you.

A few moments later, you sighed, annoyed. Scaramouche had dumped the books onto the floor, and batted your water bottle out of your hand. Water was now soaking into your shirt, making the fabric cling to your chest.

You were quiet for a moment before you spoke. "Ugh, I don't understand what I did to you."

Scaramouche laughed. You really didn't know. You'd captivated him. You had the audacity to make him fall in love with you. "You are a weak little slut for me, admit it," He said, smirking down at you.

He waited for the interesting volley of reactions that were about to come from you. His smirk widened when he saw your cheeks flush from his degradation.

You glared at him, kicking your now empty water bottle at him. You almost didn't miss. Where did you get those kicks from, anyway? You were such a tiny little thing.

"Oh, don't hold your breath," You snapped.

Scaramouche smacked a hand on the wall next to your head. Ah, there it was, the quality about you that both aroused and infuriated him. You stood up to him. Usually, people folded in a second if he bullied them.

But not you.

He couldn't coax so much as a flinch from you. Why were you like this? How did you manage to show a certain level of submissive and still stand up to him? Where did you even come from, anyways?

You never ceased to fascinate him.

Scaramouche grit his teeth. You let out a small squeak of surprise when he grabbed a handful of your hair. "Defiant sluts need to be put in their place," He hissed, laughing again when he saw your cheeks flush darker.

You let out a soft squeak of surprise when he threw the door to an empty classroom, pushed you inside and slammed the door closed. You didn't fight him, not once.

He knew you wanted this, knew you wanted him.

You barely had time to sputter about the door being unlocked before he pushed you down onto your stomach, pinning you to the ground.

Now everyone was going to hear him breaking you down. No one would dare walk in even if the door was unlocked. They sure would hear you scream that you were his. He was going to make sure of that.

Angling your hips up, he lifted your skirt. "Easy access, how thoughtful of you," He purred, smacking a hand across your ass before he cupped his hand on your cunt. He nearly groaned when he felt how wet you already were.

Of course, if you said no, he would immediately take his hands off of you. Scaramouche may be mean, but he wasn't a scumbag like people thought he was.

A shaky sigh of pleasure met his ears, making a shiver dance up his spine. Pressing your face into the floor, he hastily tugged your panties down, drinking in the sight of your dripping cunt bared before him.

It looked just a tempting as he imagined it would be.

His fingers found your clit. It throbbed underneath his fingers as he rubbed it. You squirmed, trying to push your hips back into his fingers. "Ha, I knew it," He taunted, making you gasp when he abruptly pushed two fingers inside of you. "You are a weak slut for me. Now beg for me to fuck you, and admit it."

The pace of his fingers was slow at first, kissing his fingers against your sweet spot a little bit at a time. Your desperate sounding whimpers were starting to make his cock throb and harden.

He scissored your walls apart, smacking a hand across your ass again when you started moaning. Your fingernails scratched at the floor, your walls beginning to clamp around his fingers. When it got more consistent, he increased his pace. He drove his fingers harshly into your cunt, nudging his fingers firmly on your sweet spot.

You were caving fast. The words came tumbling out of your mouth before you realized it. "Please fuck me, I need you to fuck to me," You pleaded.

Scaramouche was already stroking his cock while he watched you start to fall apart. "See," He purred gleefully, "it was that easy. I didn't even have to hold my breath."

Your orgasm was building up too intense and tight that you couldn't bite back a response. "Please.." You whimpered, and that made him snap.

Scaramouche grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking your head back. "Good girl," He turned your head to give you a heated, open mouthed kiss. It only made you melt more for him as the breath was stolen right out of your lungs. "Now, tell them all just who is fucking you."

He drug his cock between your folds, coating it generously in your slick before he pushed himself inside of you. Your fate was all but sealed now.

You were all his now.

A fate that you gladly welcomed.

Moving your arms and legs into a V, he wrapped your arms around his legs and pulled you up. Locking his fingers behind your neck, he ruthlessly thrust into your cunt.

Scaramouche fucked every bit of frustration from you standing up to him, and every ounce of lust and passion he felt into you.

The harder he pounded into your cunt, the louder you cried out. "Go, on admit!" He commanded, "I'm not letting you cum until you do."

Your eyes widened from the threat, especially with your orgasm coiling even tighter than before. "Fine, I'm a weak little slut for you!" His pace was dizzying, almost inhuman.

Your body seized and convulsed in pleasure against him. You desperately tried to writhe from how good it felt to have his cock drilling inside of you, but his told was too tight.

Your struggle only added fuel to the fire. Scaramouche groaned in bliss, hissing in pleasure. "Scream my name, slut. Or are you going to cum like a whore before you can?"

You couldn't help yourself. "Scaramouche! Scaramouche, it's you fucking me!" You screamed as your orgasm broke apart. Scaramouche shuddered in bliss the moment he felt your release flood onto his cock.

He let out a long, husky moan as his cock throbbed, spilling cum inside of you. You mewled happily, your walls continuing to flutter and clamp sensitive around his cock as he chased his high.

When he was satisfied, he dropped you somewhat unceremoniously onto the floor. Panting, he flipped you over onto your back. Laying on top of you, he hide his face in your neck. "Don't ever leave me," He murmured.

The way you stroked his hair reassured him.

You were all his now.

[amiascv]

"My greatest enemy, scoring a date!"

Alastor × F!Reader —

tags: enemies to lovers, no established relationship yet. <more platonic than romantic>

content warning: includes swearing, ooc alastor, ooc everyone really, your regular hazbin hotel content.

series?: <i think?>

START!

. . . "Y/N! Alastor! Please could you put off your bantering for one moment. I really, like, really need to focus and I just can't with all the noise right now!" Charlie raged at the two overlords standing behind her as she was busy planning her next course of action to get the Hazbin Hotel to attract more sinners.

"Of course, sweetie! I wouldn't dare imagine causing you no good!" Y/N, the Library Demon, babied her princess. But not out of pure love, Heav- or more fittingly, Hell no! It was out of spite against the Radio Demon beside her.

However, why were they fighting in the first place? You see...

"Our little princess seems to be quite the hardworker lately! Isn't she, Ali?" Sing-songed Y/N, admiring the heir to the throne of Hell as she researched and scoured all the books gave to her on how to attract more sinners towards the Hotel. (courtesy of her, the Library Demon, obviously!)

"She certainly is, N/N! At this rate she'll gain more knowledge and power than ever before! Power which I can guide..." Voiced out Alastor as static soon took over most of his vocal cords in excitement. Excitement which didn't go unnoticed by his dear overlord buddy.

"Aha... aha... Say that part one more time for me?" She threated which caught his amusement. Y/N had a lot of powers, but controlling her temper when it comes to her possessions? Nope, no, nuh uh! Not one of her traits, that's for sure! But Alastor? He definitely took advantage of this weakness of hers every single chance he got. Like now, actually!

"Hmm? I do believe I've made myself clear, sweetheart, having ear trouble? I know a good otolaryngologist around these parts if you're interested, my dear!" He teased. Y/N wasn't really this easy to be shoved and pushed around, but why could he do it like it's his one true purpose in life? It infuriated the Librarian even more. So much that she'd even attack the little shit right here and now.

She didn't even need Charlie's power, she just wanted it out of boredom. So why was she so affected?

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU RADIO DEMON!"

Hours past after she apologized to Charlie, and now she was busy taking off her steam at Rosie's side of town. Cannibal town!

"And then he just laughs it off?! He laughs at the sight of ME?!" She rants, demon horns coming out of her head and scaring off other sinners and hell-born alike trying to approach Rosie. Her listener only laughs in amusement at her friend's retelling. It was certainly amusing when she knew both sides to the story. It's like trying to solve a puzzle knowing the end would be a masterpiece to remember!

Her giggles die down as she soon replies, "Deary me, have you tried telling our old friend to stop? Maybe he could if you ask!" She almost choked at her statement. Ask one of the scariest overlords? To stop messing with her? Fuck no! Y/N was prideful of her capabilities, but not too ignorant enough to ask Alastor to just stop.

"If you wanted me to get killed that badly, love, then say so!"

"Well I know for certain you could get something off of asking him!"

"Like what?"

"Maybe... a deal, darling?"

"A deal with the cannibal with shits for brains?"

"Uh-huh! Maybe he's pushing you to your limits so you can have a one on one talk!" She convinces her even further. She does know him better than her... so maybe, it wouldn't hurt to try.

"... If I'm dead by tomorrow you know why," And with that, pages flew around you, enveloping you in their magic and transporting you back to the hotel. Meanwhile with Rosie...

"Alastor, dear, better not blow this thing sideways with her!" She calls out to the shadow hiding behind her. Making his entrance, his smile not faltering, he brushes off the dust he's collected from listening on the two delightful women's conversation.

"Oh don't you worry, my lovely! I wouldn't dream of wasting your opportunity given to me!"

"You better not."

[chiiyuuvv]

[DAY 10] masterlist ᡣ𐭩 !

— " being unable to keep his eyes off of you " ; library

♡list : @lecheugo , @imthisclosetokms , @rizzkisworld , @hyvelxve , @starryriize

As soon as the bell rings sungchan is out the door, waving his friends goodbye as he makes his way to the local library that was only a block away from his current location. There, he was going to return his book that he had borrowed from the kind librarian, before making his way to the rows and rows of long shelves, pondering to himself what he was going to read next.

If he was actually going to read it.

Sungchans been coming to the library for a week straight now, not to find nice literature that could wash away his boredom, no, it was to catch a glimpse at you. You were the pretty girl that came here everyday to study your past works and prepare for future tests. And to say the very least, sungchan was mesmerized.

He loved watching your eyes light up when you finally understood your topic, or when a pout formed onto your lips whenever you got a question wrong. You had him at a chokehold although you didnt know him, the boy willingly dropping his friends and sports just to be in the same room as you. He was more than mesmerized.

But he also was a little shy.

Okay, really shy.

The poor boy couldnt even admire you for long when you suddenly turn your head, his head moving in sync as it becomes a bright shade of red, finding a random book to distract him. Thats why hes been buying books everyday, so it didnt seem obvious he was staring at you.

But he couldnt help it. Not when you looked so, so pretty, blue light blockers sitting on the bridge of your nose perfectly as he mindlessly swoons more and more after every minute, every second. He hadn't told any of his friends what hes been up to, and he'd prefer to keep it that way, incase one of them decides to slip up infront of you.

Sometimes he loves them, other times he despises them.

Sungchan watches as you let out a long yawn, your head covering your open mouth before you take off your glasses and turn off your computer, resting your head on top of your arms which laid on the table. Were you tired? Usually, you keep a cup of coffee with you so you could power through the evening, but it seemed as if you've forgot it. Sungchan could of brought you a cup, and maybe then would he finally grow the balls to talk to you.

His steps are quiet, light as a feather as he inches toward your seemingly sleeping body, checking to see if you've really travel off to dream land. And it looks like.. you did. Sungchan quietly coos at your sleeping figure, swiftly removing his jacket to rest on your back for warmth. He was contemplating on staying with you, but in the end decides to leave since it would be weird to watch you sleep, plus hard to explain.

But although sungchan was feeling shy, he wanted to let you know that it was his jacket he had lended, and that he doesnt need it back. A smile forms onto his face as he starts to imagine how tiny you'd look in his clothes, how cute you'd look. He opts to leave you a little sticky note that was placed right beside your head, before swinging his bag on his shoulder and leaving for the day.

Hey.. i know you dont know me and i know this is kinda weird.. but i like you a lot. I think you're really pretty when you're focused on your work or when you're reading.. but im too shy to say it in front of you T_T

I'm sungchan, by the way, and you can keep the jacket, by the way. Wait, did i already say that? Anyways um i think you're really pretty and i like you a lot and i hope you've had a good nap. Whatever you're studying, you will achieve it in the future so dont give up. Bye :)

[the-kr8tor]

Hello! Could I please request hobie x librarian! reader? Since I sent that imagine in I can’t get the idea out of my head 😭

Maybe hobie meeting up with r one time when they r working at the library to help him find a book (and to distract them from doing their job 🤣)

feel free to change the plot to this bc I couldn’t really think of one🤣!

🕊️anon

Thank you, dove for another lovely request!! 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader.

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, established relationship, CW food mentions, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

It's a slow day in the library, all previously checked out books are properly placed in their shelves, everything else is organized in each pile. The smell of old books envelops you as you indulge yourself by reading a book that has you enthralled, the plot thickens, making you sit on the edge of your chair. Hands gripping the covers, your eyes widen at the love confession.

Your back is turned away from the table, making sure no one can see you reading the fluffiest romance book known to man. Being extra cautious, you hide your flustered face with your arms, toes wiggling inside your shoes while you giggle to yourself. Back folded like a shrimp, legs propped up on the chair with the book placed firmly on your knees.

Breath hitching in your throat, eyes brimming with tears when the protagonist finally realizes her best friend loves her too. You're too captivated to notice the presence behind you.

A gruff voice suddenly speaks, “‘He calls her name this time, not love, not Gromit or cherry, her name—’” he reads a passage right off the page.

You screech, the loud noise getting the attention of the library’s patrons. One shushes you while Hobie beams, hands tucked in his jean pockets. His smile gets bigger when you hide yourself behind your book.

He tilts his head, taking his hand out to move the book down and away from your face.

“There's my girl.” Hobie moves his hand to squeeze your nose. He can't help it when you're looking so adorable, and dare he say that he misses you so much that he decided to stop in the middle of his patrol just to see you.

He already thinks it's well worth it to change from his suit to his regular clothes in a grimey small alleyway from how you reacted.

“Hello?” You squeak out at your boyfriend, a shy smile hidden behind the cover of the book.

“Hi.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, “Why'd you hide the book from me? It was getting good.” He teases.

You collect yourself, calming your racing heart. Scooching a bit to the left, you pat the space.

Even though you two could barely fit on the office chair, Hobie still indulges you. Sitting down rather uncomfortably but he doesn't seem to mind as he immediately wraps his arm around your middle with the excuse of making sure you won't fall off the edge. You two are squeezed on the chair, half of your bodies sticking out. But you still stare at eachother like the protagonists in your book, with so much love and affection reserved with a simple look.

You place your face on the crook of his neck, nuzzling him. “Did you fight lizard?” Whispering right into his ear, he chuckles when your breath tickles him.

“Why? Do I smell?” He looks down at you, eyes soft whilst you sniff him. Nose kissing his skin.

“Hmm, no.” Sniff. “Yeah, nope.” He smells of leather and your fruity soap.

“How'd you know then?”

“You've got a piece of his scale stuck on your neck.” you narrow your eyes at the tiny green scale.

Hobie moves his neck to the side, giving you a full view. “Get rid of it for me?”

With your nail you gently scratch it off, flicking it away once you get it unstuck.

“There.” You rub his skin clean with your thumb

“Thank you, lovie.”

“What are you really doing here, Hobie?” You look at him through your lashes, “except for distracting me at work?”

“I think that job is already taken.” He taps your book on your lap. “‘m here to ask for help in finding a book.”

You giggle, knowing that's not the real reason. You decide to tease him a bit. “Okay, book title?”

“I don't remember,” he feigns like he's oblivious. Flicking his eyes on the cover, he continues. “Starts with the letter T, I think. That's where my favourite librarian comes in, right?”

“There are a lot of books starting with that letter. Do you at least have the author's name?” You play along.

“Ends with the letter R.” He grins.

“You're such an ass.” You laugh, muffling the sound with his jacket.

“You're right, ‘m here to annoy the living shit out of you.” You're not for one for PDA but you want to kiss the smirk off his lips. Maybe just one won't hurt. Before you could, he raises his hand, revealing a brown paper bag. “‘sides, I brought you lunch.”

The sight alone makes your stomach grumble, not realizing how hungry you've been with how transfixed you were with your book. You're now glad it was Hobie who found you reading during working hours and not your boss.

He heard your stomach grumble with the help of his enhanced hearing and how quiet the entire place is. But he decides not to tease you about it, for now at least.

You click your tongue, “food isn't allowed in the library.” He's disappointed at your comment. “but it's allowed in the employee lounge.” Grinning, now it's Hobie's turn to have the urge to kiss you silly.

“And I can read the rest of my book to you?” You ask, a bit nervous.

“So I can feed you while you read it to me, hmm? Very clever.”

“That's not what—”

He stands up, lending you a hand, flexing his fingers. “Let's go then, before your soup gets cold.”

“Is it from my favourite deli?” Your eyes shine in the fluorescent lights. “With bread?”

“‘course.” He'd cross oceans just for you if it means you get to eat the food you love. He acts like it's the most simplest thing in the world when in fact he had to line up for fifteen minutes to get your favourites.

You look at him with love in your eyes, taking his hand, he lifts you up with ease.

“Yeees.” You whisper happily. “For that I'll do the voices while reading.”

“Very romantic, love.” Hobie chuckles, letting you lead him excitedly down to the employee lounge.

[m00nlight-ramblings]

BG3 Companion Modern AU Headcanons

These random thoughts popped into my mind and I had to write them down. I love these little weirdos, and some of them probably don't make sense but OH WELL.

Should I do a Part 2 with more companions?? Let me know - my inbox and requests are open!

------

Astarion

This dude's got iPad kid energy - he loves to scroll Tiktok for hours.

He gets bi-weekly pedicures. And not the basic kind - the full on 1.5 hour long with the massage and the mask and the exfoliation.

His favorite holiday is Halloween. He plans his costume starting in August.

He'd be the type of person to be walking through a mall, see a Claire's, and spontaneously decide to get his ears pierced idk.

Is really into metal. Like, you'll come home and Metallica will be blasting and you walk into the bedroom and he's folding laundry and just like, "Oh, HELLO, Darling!" but will have to scream it over the volume in which he's listening to music

Will truly take an hour picking out the perfect wine to pair with your dinner...he's definitely a wine snob.

The cheapest article of clothing Astarion owns is from Banana Republic and it's an undershirt...everything else is ~*very fancy*~

Loves watching all types of vampire movies/TV shows. He can often be heard saying, "Oh no, they got that all wrong" under his breath.

He definitely reads like 1-2 books a week. He's recently really gotten in spicy smut books (he definitely got recommendations from BookTok).

For sure falls asleep to ASMR videos.

Gale

This man loves HGTV *queue Home Depot commercial music*

Has the most absolutely beautiful, clean home you've ever seen with about 30 bookcases CRAMMED with books. The books are the only disorganized thing in his home because he constantly is reading them, so alphabetizing them is useless.

Pinterest is his most used phone app. His boards are carefully curated. That man has a recipe/inspiration pic/quote for EVERYTHING.

Definitely volunteers at the animal shelter once a month. Often times has to talk himself out of bringing a cat home.

LUSH is his favorite store at the mall. He loves them bath bombs.

He THROWS DOWN at holiday parties...Christmas? Thanksgiving? The table is SET. The decorations are UP. He's wearing an APRON because he's been cooking ALL day. The playlist is PERFECT.

Speaking of holidays, he has matching pajama sets for everyone in the household. For every. Holiday.

Fall is absolutely his favorite season. "Sweetheart...have you ever watched 'When Harry Met Sally'? Perfect autumn movie...also I bought a new scarf today to go with my new peacoat. And mittens. And a new hat...it's getting cold outside."

He definitely has a Live. Laugh. Love. adjacent sign somewhere in his home

He definitely needs glasses to read. And he for sure has those librarian chains so that he can just take them off and they hang, instead of losing them.

Karlach

Absolutely loves to eat meals watching Youtube videos.

Imagine her in Times Square? She tears the M&M's store UP.

Is obsessed with documentaries. She often says things like "I can't believe there's so much stuff to LEARN out there!"

Definitely has a Squishmallow collection. And she rotates which one she sleeps with every night so they all get a chance.

Is absolutely the worst cook of all time but tries really really hard...however, she can make a mean boxed mac n' cheese.

Has an obsession with sugary cereal. There's always Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Fruity Pebbles in her cabinets.

Certified Switie for SURE.

Is really into astrology. Definitely has said, "Oh, you're just saying that because you're a SCORPIO" or the like many, many times.

Absolute Starbucks addiction (venti iced caramel macchiato, extra caramel).

Has monthly "girl's nights" (but everyone is invited) at her place. The rules are: pajamas only, junk food, romcoms, and a playlist of the best pop songs in the past 20 years.

------

How'd y'all like it...should I make a part two with other companions?! Remember my inbox is open and I'm accepting requests!! I'd love to write some stuff so send it in!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Treat You 5

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, violence, abuse, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Tall!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

When you go home, your father is still angry. You barely get past him to lock yourself in your room before he’s hollering and crashing around again. You clean up the mess he left of your things but find much of it unsalvagable. You don’t have much as it is. Just books, really.

You huff as you lay on your bed and mope. Your laptop is broken. You don’t know what to do about that. If you lose your job because of it, you can’t imagine your father would be any kinder.

You wallow in self-pity, flinching every time your father bangs or shouts. He doesn’t stop until well after midnight. Your stomach hurts as it shrivels hungrily. Even if you could leave your room, it’s not like there’s much to eat.

You get about an hour’s sleep before you relent and give in to another day. You fish your library card out of your drawer and leave the broken laptop behind. You could see if you could sell it for parts.

You emerge from your room cautiously. You tiptoe down to the front room and peek inside. Your father isn’t there but several empties remain in his stead. You gather the empty bottle and carefully take them into the kitchen and arrange them in a box. It’s not much over a dollar’s worth for the dozen.

You leave the box by the front door and go back down the hall. You dip into the bathroom and clean up in the sink, brushing your teeth quickly as your ears prick at every noise. You finish up and carry your shoes from your room to the door.

You hook your bag across your body, another bag in your hand. You take the box of beer bottles with you into the hall and ease the door shut. You lock it and set off towards the rear entrance of the building. Your skin sets on fire as you approach the recycling bins and sift through them.

It’s embarrassing but you have no other way to pay for the computer time at the library. You fill the bag with empties, spilling stale dregs on yourself here and there, then sling the strap over your shoulder before reclaiming the clanging box of bottles. You set off, keeping your head down as your muscles burn from the extra weight.

You wait an hour outside the beer store for opening time. You carry in your haul and get your change. Three bucks and some change. That’s about two hours of PC time. You want to cry but you hold it back. You’ll just have to get lots of work done.

At the library, you hand over all but seventy-five cents to sit at one of the computers. You’re dizzy from the long walk and your lack of breakfast. Before you log in and start the time, you go out to the water fountain in the lobby and take a long drink. You feel a bit better even if your stomach only screams louder with hunger.

You type in your library card number and the code they wrote down and start the session. You sign in to the transcription portal and start the first job that comes up. If you can keep on track, you can get almost fifty dollars added to your next pay out.

🪻

On Friday, you’re back at the library. You’ve collected enough empties through the week to get between two to three hours at a PC each day. You even managed to find a few dimes on the couch while your dad wasn’t looking.

Your session times out at two and you pack up. Yesterday you accidentally fell asleep on one of the chairs in the mystery section. The librarian gave you a warning but otherwise let you be.

You hike your bag up and wander the aisles. You know you’re supposed to be meeting Peter. You’ve been dreading it but you didn't have a way or the nerve to cancel on him. Deep down you have to admit you’re excited to try a video game. The closest you ever got were the educational spelling and math games in grade school.

You make yourself leave the library and walk down to the cafe. You stand outside as you find the door locked. Your heart drops. It’s closed.

You hang your head and take a step back. Oh, it must’ve been a joke after all. Why would he want you around? He just had you walk all the way down here as a prank. Just like grade school when those girls invited you to that sleepover and drew all over your face.

You wince and turn away, arms crossed as your shoulders slump. You can’t believe you fell for it. You’re so stupid.

“Hey,” a voice calls and you look up to see Peter waving his hand as he runs across the street. You gape at him in surprise, “hey, uh, sorry, I think–” He hops up on the curb and checks his watch. It’s fancy, one of those digital fitness ones. “I’m on time.”

“I thought…” you look back at the cafe, “you were working?”

“Supposed to but owner didn’t show up. Or the keyholder so… no shift.”

“Oh, I thought…”

“You thought what?” His forehead wrinkles, “that I ditched you? Nope. I didn’t have any way to contact you so I just figured I’d come back and meet you like we planned. Video games are still on.”

“Right,” you nod glumly, “it’s okay if you changed your mind.”

“Do you think I’m lying?” He challenges, not harshly, rather sounding hurt.

You shake your head, “I’m not… I don’t think that but I don’t know.”

“Do you still want to come?” He asks uneasily, “I kinda… kinda been looking forward to this but I wouldn’t want you to feel forced.”

“I…” you blink and rub your neck, “I do.” You raise your head resolutely, neck still slightly bent to look him in the eye, “I just…” you bite your lip and shrug, “I guess I’m not good with people so…” you sway back and forth nervously, “I’m scared.”

“Scared? Don’t be. I’ll be right there with you,” he assures and his whole face brightens as he smiles. “If anyone gives you a hard time, you tell me, alright?”

“Okay,” your murmur.

“Well, let’s go,” he says, “Aunt May gave me the car so we can stop and grab snacks.”

“Oh, that’s… cool.”

“Promise I won’t speed,” he chuckles, “precious cargo and all.”