#woe to the librarian | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tomatopers · 2 months

Text

❝ I'm. . . late?! ❞

in honor of me also forgetting vday :,) here is my first post for this acc !! I also need to remember to make an intro post n stuff, and hopefully i'll make some friends on here eventually </3 i see ppl interacting with their anons/followers and it's sooo cute when will that be me !!!!

They forgot Valentine's Day... surely the nineteenth is just as special? Diluc, Zhongli x GN!Reader (separate)

Diluc watched you silently from a window, the sunny scene outside feeling worlds away from his own dim office. You were sitting on the stone wall surrounding the Dawn Winery, pretending to read one of his boring novels while pointedly ignoring him. He was very often unaware of his stumbles, this being his first relationship, but wouldn't he would catch on soon enough?

Sure it was immature to still act huffy at this age, but Valentine's day was 5 days ago! Not one! FIVE! You had to witness Lisa flirting with the Acting Grand Master for hours, which wasn't uncommon in the slightest, but the librarian seemed to make use of all her cheesy lines on the holiday.

The stone was frigid beneath your bare legs, and you were reminded that the sun hadn't yet begun to do its job this early in the month as your legs grew numb. Perhaps on this fifth day of snubbing your lover, you'd spend the night at a bar- maybe even in Venti's company, or Kaeya's. That last ditch effort to get him to notice your huffy behavior never failed.

The worst part of this whole affair was that you couldn't even be disappointed or properly upset in peace. How could you, when this was clearly not an intentional mishap? Diluc worked diligently, and was far more dependable than most; Though, this trait of his only served to deepen your guilt. Perhaps you should apologize for this childish behavior... Maybe talk it out like proper adults...

6 o'clock found you on a barstool at Angels' share, a little early for drinking but the glass in your hand was clearly not your first. Kaeya sat to your right, an arm resting on the counter as he lent an ear to your woes. Venti stood to your left, strumming his lyre quietly and pitching in jests during the quieter moments.

The door opened at 7 on the dot, and you turned around despite knowing who stood behind you. The backlighting of the evening sun made his hair glow like fire, exaggerating the irritation on Diluc's face to resemble anger. You stood up, slightly tipsy but no less aware, and grasped Kaeya's shoulder to steady yourself before walking forward.

"Good evening, Master Diluc. What brings you here so early?" He seemed to glare at you before casting a glance at Charles. The bartender visibly jumped, quickly bowing a greeting before averting his eyes as Diluc grabbed your wrist and tugged you out of the bar. His grip, though firm, wasn't the slightest bit painful- even now, in whatever bitter mood he was in, Diluc always treated you with the utmost care.

You felt even more guilty for acting the way you did.

He released his hold on you in a more private space, tucked behind a couple trees, and waited. Just as you knew he would seek you out immediately after work, he knew you'd soon crumble under his stare and explain what you wanted. Those red eyes, sometimes blazing with anger or warm with love, were now passive and unreadable.

"Well?"

You felt heat behind your eyes, feeling the tears before they could escape down your cheeks. How stupid. It was hard to form a sentence between sniffles, so you stood and cried as he enveloped you in a hug. Maybe you had more than a few drinks back at the bar...

When your tears were all but spent, you gripped his hand in embarrassment, unable to meet his gaze. "...I'm sorry."

"What for?"

You sighed, "I've been such a child about this, it honestly wasn't even that important yet I-"

"If it bothered you, then it's important. To me."

There it was again, the ever chivalrous Diluc and his overflowing compassion when it came to you. Despite the temptation to lie and play it off, you sheepishly admitted, "It's just that, uh- a few days ago, it was Valentine's day... and we didn't really um- celebrate together... But! It's okay! You do so much already and I honestly don't need to do anything for some silly holiday when we can do stuff like that any day and.."

Looking up, you trailed off into a confused silence. Diluc's face was red, and he was the one now avoiding your eyes. "I'm- My apologies. I admit, it did slip my mind, but that is no excuse. It's more than a silly holiday, and as such, I would be honored if you would allow me an attempt to make it up to you." You burst out laughing, and he looked relieved. You really had no reason to be upset, not with this cute of a lover.

"I would allow you all the attempts possible, Mr. Ragnvindr. All the attempts and more." He smiled and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as you followed him out of the alley. "Shall we visit that famous traveling chef then, darling? I heard he's in town. Or the Good Hunter, for something casual? Or perhaps we could buy you one of those gorgeous necklaces they have at the-"

You pulled him in by his collar, feeling him stiffen at the kiss before relaxing. "Diluc, sweetheart, I was thinking something closer to home? I can make dinner, and," you gestured at the setting sun, "the night is still young, I'm sure we can have some... fun, in that great big house of yours."

He turned an even brighter red, trying to cover his blush with the hand you weren't holding. "...That would be perfect."

It was rarer for Zhongli to go a day without speaking to you than it was for him to remember his wallet. That's why it was evident to even those around you that there was something amiss. You worked at a teahouse, and that just happened to be where Zhongli's favorite tea was sold. When you weren't working, you'd help out at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, or stroll with him along the boardwalk. Plenty of time together, to say the least.

When the regulars witnessed you not serving the consultant's tea, as you always did, it immediately became a source of chatter- Some of the older women were having quite a laugh about young lovers' quarrels, though your relationship with Zhongli was far past the "young love" stage. As you walked from table to table, it was hard to ignore his stare practically burning holes through you.

The first whole hour of his visit must've passed this way; your every movement under the scrutiny of the ex-archon, your coworkers, and half the guests in the teahouse. Your work wasn't any different than usual, no. In fact, you might even be more productive now that you weren't stopping to chat with Zhongli whenever your hands were free. The owner of the place would never admit it, but he too was curious of the predicament under his roof.

Your scheduled break was minutes away, the one you would typically spend at Zhongli's table, but you clearly didn't intend to do so today. For a being such as him, it was inevitable that certain things would slip his mind, but Valentine's Day? You had planned out the entire day as a surprise, the holiday had even fallen on one of Zhongli's leisure days, but he called in the morning to tell you he'd be assisting the Traveler and would not come by. It wasn't even a brief task! He was gone for five days!

It wasn't like you hadn't told him anything, either. "Oh illustrious Rex Lapis, God among men, I beseech your presence in my humble abode on the final day of this week." He had chuckled at your attempt of mimicking the speech of those who cowered before him in his days of glory, taking your hand with a smile and a kiss. It was going to be perfect! But the plans were discarded, and the cake you made still sat untouched in the fridge...

Xingqiu walked in with his usual cheerful wave, heading to the back corner where he'd spend a couple hours reading; As though he noticed your restlessness, he smiled and offered you a seat to join him, "I'll take you up on your offer to regale me with the stories from your trip overseas, if I may?" You smiled back, "Of course! I'll bring the tea and join you."

You spent your break with the young man, and the following remainder of the shift passed with ease. At some point, Zhongli had disappeared- had he gotten upset? Most likely not, such a small matter was far from enough to garner his irritation. It was more likely that work had called for his presence. Maybe he'd notice shop owners taking down their holiday wares on his walk and remember his oversight.

You hung up your apron, bidding the staff goodnight before descending the stairs to head home. Someone was standing at the entrance to a darker alley, one tucked away from the streetlights and the watchful eyes of the Millelith. Quickening your pace, you were about to pass by when a voice, his voice, stopped you in your tracks.

"My dear, won't you tell me what has drawn your ire?" Zhongli stepped forward, his confused expression revealing his failure to decipher the issue alone. "I am unaware of any shortcoming, but I assure you it was far from intentional-"

"..."

He walked closer, "Pardon?" You looked up at him, hoping you didn't look pathetically sad. "It was Valentine's Day, the day you left for that trip with the Traveler. That's why I had invited you over." His face fell, his immediate regret making it nigh impossible to retain your frustration. "I will not make any excuses, beloved, it was entirely my fault that we could not celebrate such a wonderful day together-"

"It was, yes."

"-and I believe I grasp the value of celebrating love with a romantic partner, so while it won't compare, please join me for dinner tomorrow, where I can properly demonstrate my affections. I recall you liking when I cook, and surely such a thing is enjoyable together."

You pretended to consider the matter, before laughing and accepting his outstretched hand. "I would love to join you, and I hope I may occupy your time through the night as well." You saw his gaze sharpen for a moment before he swept you off your feet and into his arms.

"If I didn't know any better, my love, I'd think you were trying to tempt me."

"Whatever gave you that idea, darling?"

Without setting you down, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I believe you wouldn't protest to spending tonight together, as well?" You could feel the laughter rumbling through his chest, could see the smile splitting his face even with your face hidden behind your hands from the embarrassment. "My most adorable lover, I shall never again miss an opportunity to exhibit the extent of my affection for you."

524 notes · View notes

munsonthings86 · 1 month

Text

we've been celestial even before this

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after she has a particularly rough day, steve takes his girl stargazing

warnings: cursing, fluff, soft!steve, established relationship (but still fairly new), oversimplified summary, reader depicted to be nineteen, these two being the biggest lovesick idiots for each other

an: i've been having a lot of fun writing about these two. they own my entire heart. hope you guys enjoy this one * don't copy my work *

wc: 6.1k

steve and sunshine's timeline

The trembling flame of the Coffee House scented candle illuminated your messy bedroom in a flickering, warm, honey light. The smell of the candle resembled nothing of coffee, more like hot cocoa or caramel you thought, but it did its job of calming your rattled nerves, nonetheless. Most of your wooden floor was hidden beneath neglected pieces of clothing that you'd pulled from your closet in a hopeless attempt to string together a decent outfit that morning. I'll tidy up tomorrow, you shrugged, though knowing you, there was a high possibility that "tomorrow" would turn into next week.

Procrastination was a terrible habit of yours, and the tension that the day left you with was doing very little to diminish it. Your early morning shift at Family Video was borderline torturous; Keith saw to that when he scheduled you sans Steve and Robin and had two inept new hires shadow you. Sure they were nice and all, from what you can recall anyway, but you were too out of it to bestow on them the patience you typically had.

Once the stint came to its much desired end, a dreadful date at the Indiana Bureau of Motor Vehicles awaited you. In your venture to become more of an independent and responsible "adult" (being merely nineteen, the word made your blood run cold), the goal of obtaining your permit was set in stone. The written test was passed with flying colors, but like any classic BMV nightmare, you'd forgotten a required document to actually get the damn permit.

Nearly plunging to your knees, you begged the grumpy old woman behind the counter to let you run back to your apartment that was “just down the street”. Truthfully, it was a thirty minute trip on foot, but she didn't need to know that. If you ran, you could make it back in twenty.

But, again, like any classic BMV nightmare, all she left you with was a hardly sympathetic, "Sorry ma'am, but if you don't have all the required documents, I'm afraid you'll have to come back tomorrow. The office closes in fifteen minutes." Through clenched teeth, you thanked her for her time, though she neglected to return the gesture, squawking "Next in line!" in a tone that was poles apart from her customer service voice.

Mercifully, your day wasn't all terrible. On the way back home, you stopped by the library to return a week's long overdue book and, instead of crucifying you for it, the lovely librarian recommended a novel she thought you'd appreciate. Rose in Splendor by Laura Parker. Unbeknownst to her, you'd been dying to read it ever since it was published last year. The grouch over at the BMV could definitely take a page out of her book. No pun intended.

Curled into bed and tucked under your beloved ivory crotched blanket, you thumbed along the pages through gravelly, blurry eyes. You kept promising yourself "one more page", but that was well over ten pages ago.

The male love interest was recounted having perfectly tousled brown hair with a body to die for, and you couldn't help but to think of your Steve. You missed him terribly in that moment and the one thing that kept your woe at bay was the anticipation of you two's nightly phone call. It was the selling point of all your days spent without him, truth be told.

The chime of the landline in the hallway between your kitchen and bedroom pierced through the otherwise silence of your apartment, prompting you to glance at the clock on your wall. 9:32 p.m.

Speak of the devil.

Folding a little doggy ear onto the page to preserve your place, the blanket keeping your legs warm was tossed among your strewn out clothes as you nearly slipped, scurrying to answer the phone. You couldn't bite back your smile as you pressed the receiving end against your ear, hearing the music that was Steve's voice, fill your mind.

"Hi, sunshine."

A breath that was unknowingly caged, freed itself at the sound. "You're nearly on time," you teased, referring to earlier today when Steve promised to call you at 9:30 sharp tonight. Usually, he called you earlier than this, but he was jammed with babysitting duties for the six kids you were considering adopting for yourself at this point.

"I know, I'm sorry," he chuckled. "They finally fixed that game at the arcade that's been down for the past few weeks. Gaga, I think it's called."

"Galaga," you corrected, giggling to yourself. It wasn't a rare occurrence whenever the kids would drag you along on one of their many hangouts, so you were rather well-versed in their nerdy recreations. "Yeah, that's the one. I could barely pry their grubby little hands off the thing. Especially Dustin."

Based on his tone, the roll of Steve's eyes as he spoke was nearly audible. As much as he complained about constantly having to be the one to look after the party, there was a part of him that covertly loved the fact that they depended on him so much. Not only was it somewhat of an ego boost, but he's always dreamed of having little nuggets of his own to protect and guide and treasure.

The daydream of Steve being the ideal father, unlike his own dad ever was, reeled your bottom lip between your teeth as the cord of the landline fell into the trap of your twirling fingers. It was so vivid; a shirtless Steve wearing blue jeans that hugged his bottom so perfectly, driving a rackety lawn mower along the wild grass of the front yard to the house you may or may not have pictured the pair of you living in.

In that utopia, the children that you may or may not have pictured parenting with Steve, sat behind the lemonade stand that was built by their father, giggling and toying with a leaky hose as they awaited customers. You'd be watching your little family from the boxy window of the kitchen, fixing them an afternoon snack, unable to contain your laugh when the hose goes haywire, soaking your lover from head to toe.

The imagery made you giggle out loud, head falling against the wall as your stomach cramped. "What?" Steve asked, laughing along with you though it's purely out of instinct, because of course he didn't know what you were laughing about. But hearing your audible delight was contagious. He couldn't help it.

"It's nothing," you assured, smiling softly before continuing, "just hoping your day was better than mine was."

"Well I don't like the sound of that," he frowned, sneakers squeaking against his floor as he shifted his weight onto his other leg. He watched as the days worth of dirt that'd found solace on his shoes, abandon patterned scuffs on the wood. Memories of the pointed sound of his mothers voice demanding no shoes in the house rang through his head like a siren at the sight. He would've ditched his footwear at the door, but he knew he was running late for his phone date.

"What happened?"

Commencing your response with a weary sigh, you shrugged, laughing dryly, "A lot. It's not even funny how exhausted I am right now."

Steve's chest tightened. He hated when you had a bad day; it left a bad taste in his mouth. Even worse, whenever Steve would make an effort to get to the bottom of what ailed his girl, he had a less than impressive success rate, seeing as vulnerability was one of your shortcomings. Steve knew better than to pry. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to do his damnedest to make these final hours of the day your best.

"I'm sorry to hear that, honey," he lowered his head, offering a comforting smile that though you couldn't see, you could hear in his voice. "'S alright," he heard you murmur.

It fell silent for a beat before Steve inquired, "When are you comin' home?", to which you furrowed your eyebrows, letting out a confused chuckle. "Uh, I am home."

Jokingly, the boy scanned his apartment and though he saw some of your forgotten belongings from previous visits, he couldn't seem to pinpoint you. "That's weird, I don't see ya. You hiding somewhere?"

The laugh that erupts from your core at your sappy boyfriend is inescapable. Your shoulders quake as you snicker and Steve's never heard a sound so sweet. Mission accomplished. For now, anyway. "You're an idiot."

"For you, yeah," he retorts, "thought we already established that." The apples of your cheeks are growing sore as Steve's honeyed words denies your smile the chance to falter. Any inconvenience that was precedent to this very moment was long forgotten by virtue of the prince charming that was your boyfriend.

"I'll come see you soon, lover boy," you quipped.

"You makin' fun of me?" He was completely unoffended. Prior to the few weeks of you dating, Steve spent the better part of the past decade containing his cascading love for you behind the dire dam of the friendzone. Despite delay, the dam was broken and there was no playing "Mr. Cool Guy". Steve was crazy about you. And he'd be even crazier to not show it.

"I wouldn't be me if I didn't," you teased. "I'm gonna head to bed, though. I have another shift in the mornin'. That damn Keith," you rolled your eyes, groaning as Steve laughed through his nose.

"Alright, sunshine, I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay," you glowed. "G'night, Stevie." You waited for him to respond with a "goodnight" of his own before returning the phone back to its base, already pining for your boyfriend's presence again. Though you poked fun at it, what Steve said about you not being "home" wasn't just him being sappy. You were feeling the same way.

No matter where you were, whether it was school, work, the arcade, shit, you could be in the Upside Down, but as long as Steve was there, you felt at home. It made you reflect on the times where you'd be lying in bed, unable to slip into a slumber as you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to go home, though geographically, that's exactly where you were. It was because you missed Steve. And any place where he was absent, was no home of yours.

Sauntering back into your bedroom and kicking away garments to clear a path, you cocooned your body into the blanket that was now stained with the scent of your burning candle, and continued from where you left off in your book. You figured you'd make some decent progress to hopefully avoid another late fee at the library.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It'd been forty minutes later, give or take, when you stood on sore legs, cleansing and moisturizing your face before calling it a night. Your dull eyes wore dark and heavy circles like a hideous skirt, a clear manifestation of the fatigue you were weathering. You rubbed at them unkindly with the hopes of looking even a little more lively, but to no avail.

The bulb of the bathroom went out like a flame once you flicked the switch off, and you abandoned the journey back to your room at the sound of a series of knocks to the front door. Clasping the opening of your robe with shaky hands, you wondered who could be here at this hour. You weren't expecting any visitors. Approaching the door with hushed footsteps, a miniscule view of none other than Steve Harrington could be seen through the peephole of your door.

The tension in your shoulders dissipated, ribs doing their best to cage your fluttering heart. You squealed, fingers fumbling with the lock and you could swear the metal thing had something against you, the way it stalled to unlatch. Steve smiled from the other side of the door as he watched the knob twist and jangle, warmed to know that you were just as eager to see him as he was to see you.

The brown lettering that labeled the white entryway '2F' swung out of view and Steve made eye contact with you for a split second before stumbling back a bit when you threw yourself into him.

Elevating yourself with the tips of your toes to reach him, you trapped his neck between your arms as he returned your hug with one arm, the other remaining properly tucked behind his back. "Hello to you too," he laughed breathlessly before briefly stamping a kiss to your shoulder.

"What're you doing here?" you buzzed, pressing little pecks to as much of his dotted skin as you could. You were suddenly a ball of energy. Finally at home. "When you said later, I thought you meant, like, tomorrow or something."

"Well, I missed you," a kiss to the corner of your mouth, "Wanted to come see ya."

The smile he wore carved thin lines into his cheeks as he spoke, walking your tangled bodies back into the quietude of your apartment. He stopped at your cutesy welcome mat, kicking his shoes off before revealing his arm that held a bouquet of just about the prettiest flowers you'd ever seen.

"Steve," you pouted, releasing your hold on his shoulders, "they're gorgeous." Cradling the peach hued roses dressed in a newspaper-style wrapping paper, your eyebrows scrunched together as you reminded yourself of the time. "What florist is open at 10 p.m.?"

The boy chuckled, locking the door behind him. The plaid pajama pants he wore swung loosely on his legs as he approached you. "There isn't," he ran fingers through his disheveled hair that was long overdue for a trim, "I saw them while I was out with the kids and I thought of you, so I got 'em." He shrugged like it was nothing.

"I was gonna surprise you with them at work tomorrow, but I figured I'd just give 'em to you now, ya' know, all things considered."

Heat rushed to your chest and face as you ogled him, filled with an overwhelming sense of luck to be his. Your feelings toward him felt so immense that at times, you could barely articulate yourself. Words of love and adoration raced through your mind a million miles a second yet you always found yourself terribly speechless.

Steve was so open with his affection for you. It’s a love people pray to experience at least once in their lifetime. And what a heaven-sent gift it was to earn that kind of love from Steve.

These would look perfect by the living room, you thought, turning to the kitchen to retrieve a vase after slipping him a fleeting kiss.

Scouring the white cabinets, you almost failed to remember that you didn't particularly own a vase, given the fact that you'd never actually received flowers before. The realization dejected you a bit.

Steve trailed behind you mindlessly, a frown weighing on his lips as he watched your shoulders droop. Leaning against the space on the counter next to you, he slid down a little, leveling with you, "What's wrong, honey?"

A mumbled, "I've never gotten flowers before," left a pang in his chest, your eyes never leaving the shelves of your cluttered cupboard. "Never needed a vase before."

It was now Steve's turn to slump his shoulders while he gazed at you with sad eyes. How could someone so lovely, so divine as you, not be treated the way you deserved? He would buy you flowers every day if you wanted and he had to bite his tongue when he almost cursed himself for not doing it already. But it's okay. He was here now.

Luring your waist into his body with those burly hands of his, he spoke with assurance laced in his voice, "Well, that's okay," he cooed. "Here, use one of these for now," he pulled a mug that you would've otherwise had trouble reaching, as it sat on the very top shelf, "and tomorrow we'll pick out a nice pretty vase for ya'."

Filling the black cup with water, he planted the roses down as neatly as he could. The flowers sat in the mug awkwardly, all splayed out with the stems way too long for your liking. But somehow, it still managed to be nothing short of perfect. "Cute, a little weird," you shrugged, a smile teasing your mouth, "but cute."

Steve chuckled lowly, situating himself between your legs once you sat on the surface of the tile countertop. "That's funny."

"What is?"

"I said the same about you when I first met you," he laughed, unable to contain his smile before getting the joke out. The face you made didn't help. "Shut up, Harrington," you jab at his shoulder softly, cracking a smile of your own.

Though there was a newfound romance, the typical banter that was mutually exchanged wasn't going anywhere. You were glad that nothing changed between you when you started dating.

Toying with the drawstrings on Steve's Gap hoodie, you began zoning out, the thought of going to bed while cuddled up with your boyfriend, sounding all too alluring. Looking up at him, he was already intently staring at you with painfully adoring eyes and you couldn't help but melt under his heated gaze. "Hi," you muttered, shyness clouding you.

"Hi, sunshine," he smiled, adjusting the collar of your robe with careful fingers. "I'm sorry your day sucked."

"It doesn't, anymore," you replied, sincerely. Steve's eyes lit up at that. It wasn't a secret to anyone that his presence alone seemed to be the antidote for some of your worst days. You'd even admitted it yourself, once or twice. But it never failed to ignite the nerves in Steve's body with fervor.

Although you were completely honest that your mood had gone up about ten octaves since he'd been there, Steve didn't want to just be there. He wanted to do more. It was what you deserved.

"You up for a little adventure?"

"Depends," you squinted. "What kinda adventure are we talking about?" He shifted his weight onto his other leg as his eyes veered off to the ceiling, thinking.

Steve happened to have a few tricks up his sleeve.

"There's somewhere I wanna take you," he drummed a rhythmless beat on your thigh with his fingers. The sneaky expression on Steve's face told you everything you needed to know. He was up to no good. As much as you wanted to go on a late night escapade with your boyfriend, you had to be somewhat, even a little, responsible.

"Steve, it's late and we both have work in the morning," you huffed, losing your grip on the strings you'd been distracting yourself with.

Steve playfully rolled his eyes, flinging his body out of your clutches dramatically. He was going to get you to cave. Whether you already knew it or not. "Alright, grandma, I promise to have you back home at a reasonable hour. Deal?"

The internal battle on whether you should stay or go was evident in your features, though, realistically you had already come to the conclusion that you'd humor him. The "grandma" bit is what really did it for you.

"This is a dumb idea."

"I'll be waiting by the car," he smiled an accomplished smile before leaving the kitchen. Letting out another sharp exhale, you hauled your body off the counter and headed towards your bedroom, discerning that a robe probably wasn't the dress code for wherever it was Steve was taking you.

Concealing your underlying tank top with a hoodie almost similar to Steve's, you threw on some sneakers before snuffing out the diminishing candle. Giving your appearance a once-over in the mirror, you wondered what you'd just gotten yourself into. Though any time with Steve was time well spent, you couldn't help but to look at your bed longingly as you shut off the lights to your apartment, meeting Steve outside.

He stood by the passenger side of the car, fiddling with a loose thread by the end of his sleeve. The fall season brought a night frigid breeze that blew his hair over his eyes like a curtain, making him pout. You hugged your body as you neared him, brushing his brown tresses from his face, though the wind reversed your efforts in no time.

He pressed a kiss to your palm as he became a puddle under your touch, appreciating the way your toasty hand felt against his icy skin. Steve took his own turn rubbing at your arms when he saw you visibly shiver, teeth nearly chattering. "You wanna tell me where we're goin'?" Misty clouds left short-lived trails in the air between the two of you when you spoke.

"Now where's the fun in spoiling the surprise now?" He opened the car door to punctuate his sentence, gesturing you inside. You could only rebut with a roll of your eyes as you entered, though you and Steve both knew you were loving every bit of this. It warmed your heart knowing he was so keen on saving your day from the horror it started it out to be.

Digging through the glove compartment, you sifted through old receipts and other rubbish that really needed to be thrown away, searching for the mixtape you and Steve made for little times like these. Moments that may now seem small, but would soon become memories that you'd cherish for years to come. It served as a little time capsule; hearing the songs you two carefully picked, easily transporting you to these times even when you'd become gray and old.

As Steve began driving off, your fingers found the sneaky cassette that was scribbled with yours and Steve's initials along with doodles of suns, to represent you, and poorly drawn anchors in honor of Steve's Scoop Ahoy era, to represent him.

Regardless of Steve's slight disdain for that period of time, it was one of your favorites and obviously that was due to the fact that the uniform he wore, showed off his legs in the best way possible. It was the perfect eye candy that summer.

The low sound of Bob Marley singing Could You Be Loved floated through the quietness of the car, easing away any tension within you that might've still been trapped. You admired the way the town was so still. The time was hardly 11 p.m., yet there wasn't a soul to be seen; only lonely litter that drifted through the breeze, aimlessly. It was a stark difference from just a few hours ago when you had to dodge shoulders as you cut through the crowded streets on your way home.

The sky was dark and empty apart from the glowing crescent moon that seemed to be chasing you as you drove. It was the only light source you had aside from the street lights that lined the sidewalks. You started counting them and even got to as far as nineteen, but soon lost count once Steve picked up his speed a bit.

Your eyelids threatened to close as the calming drive coupled with the music, fought to lull you to sleep. But instead, bright neon lights stung your sensitive eyes that grew accustomed to the darkness. Squinting, you read the colorful sign labeled "Darling's Diner", and nostalgia strikes you. It had been years. Too many years since you and Steve had been here last.

"Holy shit," you glimmered, hurriedly unbuckling your seatbelt. Steve's hand that found comfort on your thigh during the ride gave it a squeeze before he put the car in park, rushing over to open your car door. He took your hand in his, adoring the way your stunned face gleamed under the glow of the pink and blue neon bulbs. "Surprise," he cheered in a low tone, lightly bumping his shoulder against yours.

The smile you had burned your cheeks but the elation you felt made it all too easy to ignore. The feeling you got whenever you came to Darling's was something indescribable. There were countless fond memories attached to this place and it left you all soft and gooey inside to know that Steve planned on making more with you here. Instinctively, you practically dragged Steve behind you as you rushed inside, the homey scent of burgers, fries, and shakes wafting to your nose.

The floors were still the black and white checkered tiles you remembered them to be; stained with drops of grease and sprinkled with deserted fries. Walls were not much neater, though they were messy with posters and vinyl records instead.

"Want the usual?" Your nod was immediate and shortly after, Steve approached the busy woman impatiently pressing buttons on the register. Wisps of hair fell out of her ponytail and clung onto the film of sweat developing across her forehead. She visibly shrunk into herself as she heard the bell above the door ring, signaling new customers. It was a much busier night than usual.

Regardless of the surge of patrons, the booth you and Steve usually sat in once upon a time, wasn't occupied. The wears and tears corroding the red leather almost served as a name tag, assigning the seat for you two. It was impossible to forget the days Steve came here with you after school, carelessly doing homework while listening to whatever song played on the jukebox.

The table was tidy apart from laminated menus and coloring sheets scattered across the surface. You smirked thinking of the times you and Steve swore you could be the next Picassos, the way you took those things so seriously. As if they'd be hung in museums, you did your best to color them, but not without the added challenge of switching papers with Steve every few minutes. A fun little game you played.

Colored pencils sat by the condiments and you made yourself busy adding hue to the Back to the Future poster, sliding Steve a sheet with some random sports car you didn't know the name of, when he made his way over. He traded you with a cup of hot cocoa with jumbo marshmallows that threatened to abandon ship. "Thanks, Stevie."

"Anytime," he smiled, biting at the cherry that was kissed with a touch of the whipped cream that sat atop of his strawberry milkshake. His long legs brushed against yours as he sat next to you, knees finding mutual rest against each other.

A waitress on pink roller skates offered a kind smile as she brought over a basket of fries that Steve and you snacked on while you chatted and giggled, coloring your own and each other's papers as time seemingly flew by.

"How long has it been since we've last been here?"

"I couldn't tell you. Anything before senior year is such a blur," you responded, adding finishing touches to Steve's car before taking the last sip of your now barely hot, hot chocolate. "I'm just sad we stopped coming here."

"Me too," he swung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for an apologetic kiss to your temple. "But I promise to bring you a little more often. It was our spot when we were kids and it'll be our spot now."

You looked at him with bright eyes while hugging his torso, despite the awkward position. Trying to understand what you did to deserve someone like Steve was a dead mission, as you could never fully wrap your head around it. How does one try to understand why they've gotten so lucky?

He kissed away the marshmallow mustache idling on your upper lip before tapping your leg twice, "C'mon, we've got one more stop to make."

The spot he sat in was quickly losing its fever as he stood, holding a hand out for you to take, but you just stared at him with a face that was an odd marriage of scolding and amusement. "Steve," you warned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you can yell at me about it later. But I promise you'll love it." Waving his hand to urge yours into his, you accepted it with little hesitation at his grin. You wished the woman at the front a good night as you left the bistro, while Steve dropped a tip in the jar next to her.

He didn't let your hand go until you were sat in the passenger seat, subsequently getting behind the steering wheel, inserting the key in the ignition. You could tell Steve was tired too, the way he full-body stretched as he yawned, rubbing at his eyes that were getting a bit red from fatigue. He wanted to go to bed and cuddle and forget about the world just as much as you did. So why were you still out there?

"What's all this for, Harrington?"

He answered your question with another one of his own, "What's all of what for?"

"Tonight. Everything. The flowers, the diner, and now something else. I'm really grateful for it, don't get me wrong," you warmed his hand when you held it, "but why so much?"

Steve shrugged, averting his gaze to the gear shift sitting between you two. He softly rubbed at your knuckles while he gathered his thoughts.

"Well, you told me that you had a shit day. Just wanted to change that. I like when you're happy."

Your throat felt like it was closing in on itself and your chest stung when tears pricked at your eyes. Steve looked back at you affectionately, the voice of his eyes telling you just how much he cared for you. It made your heart so full. It was too much to handle sometimes.

"I like when you're happy too, Stevie," you beamed, blinking away the pool by your bottom eyelashes. Cupping his cheek, you pushed your plump lips against his that were a little chapped, though you didn't seem to mind at all. Reluctantly, you pull away and Steve doesn't think it was nearly long enough as he sneaks in a few extra pecks.

The drive to wherever on Earth it was that Steve was taking you, was much different compared to the one prior. It almost didn't look like Hawkins. For the past couple miles, Steve's burgundy BMW had been the only car on the road. The trees were taller, a darker green and stronger in numbers than the ones you were used to. The street lamps were less abundant and dimmer than usual, and the animal crossing signs told you that you were more than just a little ways from home.

You had almost said something until Steve pulled off to the side, parking the car on an empty hill just off the road that overlooked Hawkins and the neighboring city. It looked so small from here. Steve smirked at the puzzled expression you threw his way as you removed your seatbelt.

"Before you ask, just come outside. There's something I wanna show you."

You didn't bother waiting for Steve to open the door for you, as you stepped out, attempting to conjure up what he could possibly be wanting to show you out here. There was nothing to be seen but dirt and fallen leaves and branches. "What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Look up," he responded, leaning against the hood of the car.

Your furrowed eyebrows relaxed as a gasp fell from your lips at the sight of the cloudless sky, lighting up with numerous twinkling stars, an image you could only dream of seeing for yourself since you were a little girl. The mighty city that sat so close to Hawkins fostered light pollution that made it nearly impossible to see the stars at night. If you were lucky, you were only able to make out about one or two, though you weren't sure if they had been stars or planets, instead. Either way, it ignited your soul to be able to see such a bright and beautiful piece of the universe, making you feel so small in the best way possible.

That didn't nearly amount to this very moment though, where there were more stars that you could count, sitting so prettily in the midnight sky.

Mouth still agape, you utter, "Steve, it's beautiful," and other than that, you were rendered speechless. You couldn't dare to tear your eyes from it, worried that if you did, it would all disappear, proving to be a mere hallucination from your tiredness. Steve adored the way you stared at the heavens, noticing the way it was the same way you looked at him. All he could see was a clear reflection of the stars in your eyes, and it perfectly spoke to the way he felt about you.

He saw everything when he looked at you. The sun, the moon, the stars, the universe, even the galaxy. His past, his present, his future. All of it. To him, you encompassed everything beautiful and divine. He was convinced you were too good for this planet. Too extraordinary. How did he get so lucky?

"Look," you pointed at two stars that sat close to one another, shining impossibly brighter than the others, "do you think that's us in another universe?"

Steve smiled at your question, cherishing how whimsical you could be sometimes. Your voice was soft and full of wonder and he couldn't be more content in this moment. "Yeah," he nodded at you, "I'm yours in every universe, sunshine." He kissed the back of your hand, holding your intertwined hands against his chest.

"Y'know I was thinking to myself the other day about how weird relationships are," he stated, looking down at his feet. You peeled your eyes away from the sky, gazing at your boyfriend for the first time since you stepped out of the car. "Weird, how?"

"I don't know, like how you randomly meet someone and get to know them really well and one day just decide, 'I like this human. I'm gonna spend all my time with them and take care of them.' Maybe weird isn't the word, but it's definitely interesting," he rambled, talking with his hands, even the one that was still laced through yours.

You nodded along, understanding where he was coming from. It was something you'd thought about yourself. He continued, "Like, I look at us and how far we've come and it scares me a little 'cause I see how my parents are now. They were best friends before they got married and now I can count on only one hand the amount of times I've seen them hug or kiss. Freaks me out."

This was one of the few times Steve spilled what was weighing on his mind. You could always tell when something bothered him and though he'd give you bits and pieces when you asked what was wrong, it was never anything as nuanced as this. It made you proud to see him develop so much.

"We're not them, Steve. It's like you said, I'm yours in every universe. Maybe they aren't each others every universe," you sighed, "We won't end up like them, I promise"

You always knew how to reassure him. It was one of the things Steve loved so much about you; your way with words. Nothing sort of a poet, he thought. He engulfed your face with his palms, kissing you with every ounce of passion he had.

Lowly in the background, you could hear the song Just the Two of Us by Grover Washington, as the mixtape was still playing in his car. "It's our song," you smiled against his lips when you pulled away. You took his hands from your face, grasping them when you asked him, "Dance with me?"

He nodded, holding your body against his as your head fell against his chest, looking down at the sleeping town that felt so far away. You swayed back and forth, finding comfort in the near silence, listening to the rhythmic beating of Steve's heart. "Thank you for this, Steve," you whispered. "I'm lucky to be yours."

"Even if you weren't, I'd still do it for you," he admitted, running hand across your back, tenderly.

The little sentence made you think. Steve has been in your life for well over a decade now and he never failed to be there for you even when you didn't know how to ask for it. He was the one who took care of you whenever you found it a little difficult to take care of yourself. The one who never dared to leave your side.

You and Steve were in love even before you were. You'd been celestial even before this.

"I love you, sunshine," he murmured, head resting on top of yours.

"I love you back, Stevie."

💌 1 new message from jojo: pls pls pls comment/reblog (or both teehee) if you enjoyed, it means a lot! inbox is open!

#steve harrington #steve and sunshine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x poc!reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington headcanon #soft!steve harrington #joe keery #stranger things

258 notes · View notes

unluckytum · 6 months

Text

Another oc!! meet local librarian Chamomile :) a grey ball python naga who is having some egg-related woes

(this art is actually a year old I've just kept forgetting to post it :p)

#unluckyart #Chamomile #nbpreg #monster pregnancy #pregnancy kink #eggpreg #ovipos #belly kink

142 notes · View notes

biggie-chcese · 5 months

Text

rain code age headcanons because i have literally only ever been choosing ages based on what's funniest but now i wanna cast away my grand layers of irony and be genuine for a moment. also. this goes pretty in depth so be prepped for the long haul when you click read more lmao.

spoilers for the whole game below and it's because of one specific character iykyk

Yakou - this man has the soul of a guy in his late 40s going through what would be his midlife crisis if not for the fact that he's fully aware he passed the midpoint years ago. but that soul is trapped in the body of a guy who doesnt look a day older than 28. what moisturizer does he use? i doubt he even uses anything other than that 13 in 1 shampoo. anyway, i think he's 32.

Halara - 26. nothing really to justify this other than they've got that mid 20s swag but 25 didn't feel right. adult enough to be as competent as they are yet young enough to look like that. moving on.

Desuhiko - 19. i think he's the youngest of the NDA because. well. idk man have you read his dialogue? he's got a whole lot of growing to do and is still very lost on his direction in life. he's giving 'bitch fresh outta high school (or in this case, detective training) and relishing in his freshly obtained freedom."

Vivia - 28? yeah i got nothing for this i am going purely on vibes here. 28 just feels right.

Fubuki - 23. she's clearly still a bit young but is also clearly a grown ass adult who wasn't raised right so i think this makes for a happy medium, especially if she's already been on some worldwide adventures n shit before the game. works out quite swimmingly methinks.

Kurumi - 18. for my personal comfort bc we'll get to yuma later but im not gonna sit here and ignore the way the game constantly grovels at the audience's feet to ship them so id rather she not be any younger than this. anyway, more about her: she tends to hold her own as an informant with more competence, maturity, and effecience than most of the NDA. but she also has a pretty childish black and white view on things, like believing her beloved detectives are always right (girl if you were real you would be ENTRENCHED in stan culture oml do NOT get into minecraft youtubers) but i've... seen 18 year olds on the internet that are exactly the same so whatever

Aetheria girls - putting them all at 17-18 because, based on honorifics, they are treated as upperclassmen by their peers in the Japanese dub. i think waruna is the youngest and kurane is the eldest.

Yomi - 25. he has that vibe. old enough to be taken seriously as an adult but young enough to act like That™. yknow?

Martina - 32. she's giving older woman sexy librarian vibes and generally carries herself with a certain level of poise and maturity but is also a freak in a way that can best be explained by being a woman in her 30s. not elaborating on this

Swank - 41. to me he's like those awful surly businessmen who go to cabaret clubs to drink and smoke their office job woes away and cheat on their wives. but he also has extreme mafia boss swag about it so i kinda love him for that. dunno what this has to do with age tho. moving on.

Seth - 22 because he's giving youngest brother. i think he's the youngest of the peacekeepers in general. guillaume definitely bullies him about this.

Dominic - 34. bro is built like a jojo character what else do you want me to say. he's still got that youthfulness about him that makes me think he's still not going through his midlife crisis, so i wouldn't place him any older

Guillaume - 23. guillaume is so girlypop manic pixie dream girl core that she's definitely got the energy of someone who is young but also strikes the balance of being someone who has a job and a mortgage. dunno how she does it. id like to think she isnt even much older than seth but still bullies him for being the baby of the peacekeepers. do u understand my vision. please. they have so much annoying coworker potential.

shinigami - idk like 1000. she's a death god who cares.

yuma - okay. yeah. look i dont give a singular fuck about age discourse- headcanon whatever you want- but from looking at canon material i genuinely think that he could not possibly be any younger than 21. 20 if we wanna push it. yes, i know he looks young. i have eyes. but also, im in my 20s and the most common thing people tell me when i reveal my age is "oh, i thought you were 15." one time a person asked me if i was 12. at my job. that i was actively working at. i was 20. adults can look young, and contrary to the classic 1000 year old loli dragon trope he doesnt act overtly childish. he acts like a normal fuckin guy. yes he cries but like. you wouldn't in his position? bro speedruns lifelong trauma so skillfully that he's backwards long jumping into alternate universes where everything is somehow worse. i'd be freaked out if he didn't cry. also im aware that the child prodigy detective trope is a thing and that kodaka has written that before but... he was number one three years ago. and the training takes two years. which means, if he is a minor in the game's present day, he started working at the WDO at 12 and became number one at 14... at the oldest. have you ever met a 14 year old? forgive me for not suspending my disbelief here. and really the kicker for me is that yuma has a line where he says he's not sure if he's drinking age (which would be 20 in japan), but you know who would be sure? you know who knows yuma's age better than yuma?

makoto kagutsuchi - this megacorporation CEO has a fully stocked minibar installed in his penthouse. <- sentence i cannot bring myself to believe if it's about a child. since i also cant picture him becoming CEO at age 14 without yomi at least once angrily pointing that out (he only ever mentions that makoto is an outsider, or has his head in the clouds), id like to think both him and yuma, at their youngest, earned their top spots at their respective organizations at 18. it keeps their gifted kid syndrome and young prodigy-ness without making things comically ridiculous or uncomfortable for the sheer amount of sexual situations yuma gets put into.

anyway that's my silly little ramble on age headcanons. this was actually really fun to think about. shoutout to kodaka for leaving out the ages. funniest choice he could've made

#rain code #raincode #mdarc #master detective archives: rain code #rain code spoilers #mdarc spoilers

58 notes · View notes

babybluebanshee · 1 year

Text

Things I've Had To Deal With As A City Librarian: I'm Just So Tired

Haven't done one of these in a while, and things have just been...they've been a time, let me tell you.

*We caught a guy hiding in one of the bathroom stalls after closing. We check the bathrooms to clean up any messes for the next day, and Julie knocked on the men's room door. No one answered, so she went in and checked the stalls. Didn't see any feet so she starts opening the doors. She gets to the handicap stall, and she tries to open it. It's locked. She mutters something about having to unlock it, and suddenly a voice from inside calls out, "Hey, I'm still in here." Julie nearly shrieks. The guy claims that his fly was stuck, but given the fact he didn't say anything when Julie came in and we couldn't see his feet under the stall door means he was probably crouched on the toilet, hoping we'd think the bathroom was empty and he could spend the night in the library.

*My coworker Allie did a cute little display in the kids area where you can write a letter to Curious George. She even made cardboard mailbox for it and put out a bunch of books and movies for people to check out. The amount of vandalism this thing has seen is unreal. One night a kid poked holes in the mailbox with a colored pencil. I was doing a walkthrough after a particularly rowdy family was in the kids area, only to discover that they have thrown everything on the display into the mailbox - the books, the movies, the postcards, the coloring materials, even one of the book stands. We spent about ten minutes fishing everything out.

*Speaking of displays, I did the Black History Month one this year. I worked on it for three months, and to be honest, I was very proud of it. It took up two tables, full of historical events and famous figures of black history. Needless to say, since black history is so damn expansive and my space was limited, a lot of people ended up getting left off (especially local people I'd never learned about). The amount of times people told me I left out a person they personally believed should be on it drove me to distraction. Two separate people told me I missed Kamala Harris (which I'll be kicking myself forever about). One woman asked me why I didn't redo the whole display to add one local figure she thought needed to be included. One woman asked me why she herself was not included one the poet's wall, because she was a published author. No, she was not kidding. I guess I should be thrilled that people were actually interacting with it, but at least a few people telling me I did a good job would have been fucking nice.

*To branch off from the black history month display - the city has an anti-discrimination policy when it comes to people reserving rooms for events. The only thing we explicitly do not allow is social events like parties and anyone attempting to sell something; everything else is fair game. This means we get a lot of obnoxious groups whose views we really, really do not agree with - homeschoolers, churches, conservative clubs, and, my personal favorite, the Sons of the Confederacy. Or as Rachel and I like to call them, The Sons of a Bunch of Loser Piss Babies. They had a meeting there during February, and Rachel was working that day. One of them, in his stupid little gray hat, was standing talking to someone...right next to my black history month display. Rachel told me she wanted to take a picture because the juxtaposition was...stark, to say the least. We're really not that surprised Failfuck McStank didn't notice the irony.

*We've had a guy coming in with his guitar and just...hanging out in the study rooms to play. We can't really do anything about it unless he's too loud or someone actively complains, but we're all kind of puzzled about the library being his first choice of places for a jam session.

*There's a pair of teenage girls that have been coming in for about four months now and their punk vibe is immaculate. The first time I ever saw them, one of them had a giant bleach blond mohawk, a leather jacket with studs, hot pink and black striped stockings, and the most badass combat boots I've ever seen. Her friend had a bleach blond buzzcut, a black jean jacket covered in patches, teal leggings, and red converse that were falling apart. Sherri stumbled on them chilling in the kids area, and noticed the buzzcut one was bent over something. She got closer and realized the kid was knitting a scarf. Mohawk comes in more often, and always has a thick book with her, just lounging in the chairs and quietly reading for a few hours. They're my second favorite patrons and hope they never change.

*A woman was interested in attended my classic book club meeting back in June. We were reading Fun Home by Alison Bechdel, so I gave her a copy. She didn't attend the meeting. She returned the book a few days later and said it was "gross". While she was there, she also picked up her inter library loan of a "romance" novel about a woman falling in love with her abusive stepbrother. I'm all for people reading whatever the fuck they want, but I also feel like if you're gonna read stepsibling porn, you don't get to call lesbian comics gross.

*Two women came in with a little boy who was absolutely bouncing off the walls. They did absolutely nothing to control him - one of them was busy talking to someone on her phone (on speaker till someone complained), the other was perusing the shelves - and the kid was just kind of running around being a nuisance. I was walking back from helping someone in the computer lab and saw the kid taking off his shirt. I told him he had to keep his shirt on, and that's when one of the women finally turned to me and said, "He wants to put his Spider-Man costume on." And I'm like, "Lady, that's great, but you're in a public space, not your living room. Have him change in the bathroom." Luckily they didn't hang around long after that, but fucking hell, the entitlement.

*A woman came in to fax a police report to her lawyer, and Sherri and I ended up being privy to the sordid tale of having her car stolen. She was out with a guy she met on Tinder, and they went to a bar in the next town over. They were getting ready to leave, but she wanted to have a cigarette, so they were standing by her car in the parking lot. Suddenly, three police cars come shooting up, right next to them. Turns out the dude she's with has a warrant out for his arrest. He panics, grabs her keys out of her hand, jumps in the car, and fucking peels away. He ended up crashing it into a ditch less than ten miles away, totaling it. She doesn't even know what warrant was for.

*It's very funny whenever I call anyone for reserve reminders or things like that, because people are so used to getting calls from robots and scammers that they're immensely suspicious any time they answer their phone. And it makes the absolute 180 they do into delighted toddlers, excited to get their books, that much funnier. The scenario usually goes like this:

Me: Hi, is this [insert name]?

Patron: *clearly doing the suspicious Fry face* Yeeeees...

Me: This is Blue, at the library! I was just calling to let you know you have a book on reserve ready for pick up!

Patron: *brightening instantly* OMG thank you! Oh, I'm so glad you called! You've made my day, you guys are wonderful!

Never fails to make me chuckle.

*The assistant librarian is in charge of a lot of the teen programs we do, and by far the most popular are her teen book boxes - the kids fill out a form of stuff they enjoy, and she puts together a box of three books, plus crafts and snacks, for them. On average, she does about twenty of them a month. However - because we are located in the heart of Conservative Brainrot Land, where a not insignificant portion of the population thinks if they're a good little conservative who hates what Fox News tells them to, Tucker Carlson will come give them the hug their dad never did - this has also given us great insight into the minds of ultra controlling parents who would encase their kids in wax if that could keep them from learning things they don't want them to. One particularly baffling example started with a mom asking that no "social justice" be included in the box. The next one asked for "no gender identity". This time? No inclusion. Like...I get why she put that. Because inclusivity = woke = liberal = the devil. But like...do these people hear themselves? Do they know what words mean? Also, I told the AL that she should just give the kid an empty box. She did not follow my advice.

*On the flip side of the crazy, controlling parent thing, y'all remember this family from a while ago? The one where the aunt came in and said Pretty Little Liars had opened a satanic portal that drove her niece to a mental hospital? Well, I'm happy to report that I think the mother of that girl might have had a face turn. The same kid just recently returned several books from the Anita Blake series (which are pretty mature as far as sexuality goes), and she's been in talks with the AL to volunteer for us, informing her that she doesn't know her schedule just yet because her mother is letting her start public school. I like to think the mom looked at that whole situation, took a long, hard look at herself in the mirror, and thought, "Ya know what? I don't think I want to be like this anymore. I think this is a problem." And ya know what? Good for her, and good for that girl. I hope it does them both a world of good.

#woe to the librarian #the conservative brain rot is starting to leech into my professional life #and i'll be here to report on it every chance i can

108 notes · View notes

thedrarrylibrarian · 6 months

Text

I was so excited to ask the wonderful @wolfpants to do the October rec because I knew she'd have the perfect spooky pick for us and they did not disappoint! I love the rec they picked - it's the perfect mix of suspenseful and scary - and I know you will enjoy it just as much!

When the lovely Drarry Librarian asked me to take the Halloween slot for Happy Hour, I was thrilled, honoured, and so very excited, because I had just the fic in mind for a spooky Drarry offering!

The sexy, spine-tingling, and mysterious…

Saltwater Stain, by @the-starryknight (9,000 words, rated M)

Seven days stuck on a boat investigating a rogue ghost wouldn't be so bad if Harry didn't want Draco so much. Draco has his rules and Harry's content to follow them, but the air feels different away from the shore. Is it possible that the sea could offer Harry something impossible on land?

Merlin. What a banger of a fic.

From the first sentence (‘The sun burned at the horizon, cresting across the wave-tips as far as Harry could see.’), I was completely enveloped in this seafaring gothic tale of forced proximity and psychological woe, where our heroes are faced not only with the open sea and the ghost that roams the mist, but with each other’s feelings—mental, emotional, and physical.

This fic is burning with atmosphere and tension. There’s just something so—classic, about how Starry has written this. It feels like folklore, like a piece of oral history; the kind of tale sailors warn each other about in old taverns before they set off to sea.

And then there’s the pitch-perfect pining and romance that underlines it all—how Harry wants to see and be seen by this Draco, how he wants to be loved and wanted by this Draco, who is studious and serious and embroiled in an uncanny twist of his own that ultimately plunges this fic into a deliciously ambiguous ending.

Also! Special shout out to: bed sharing, shaving kink, Draco in glasses, and to this passage in particular, which sent me into a coma:

“You’re so good,” Draco murmured, as he pressed Harry’s head back, the tip of his wand curving along the underside of his jaw. “Look at you,” he breathed into Harry’s ear. “You’d do anything for me.”

I said this to Starry once and I’ll reiterate it here—I return to this fic time and time again, and I think about it often. It is easily one of my favourite fics in the Drarry canon, and a must-read, especially if you’re a fan of mysteries and ghost stories and all things gothic. Go forth! Don’t be scared!

Thank you, @wolfpants for this awesome rec! You definitely picked the perfect weekend read in preparation for Halloween! And speaking of Halloween, stay tuned for some more spooky recs headed your way!

❤️ As always, if you find a fic you enjoy, please remember to leave the author a kudos or a comment! ❤️

Lots of Love and Happy Friday!

#wolfpants #drarry #friends of the library #library guest #happy hour guest #fic rec #drarry fic rec #guest fic rec #lots of love and happy friday #friday fic rec #friday happy hour fic rec #friday happy hour #thank you wolf for joining us!#I love this fic and Starry's writing!

59 notes · View notes

whimsyprinx · 1 year

Text

if all else fails I’m hoping for a spring death

#whimsy whispers #whims woes #delete later #nothing like happened today to make me sad or anything #I just still have no use for life #it’s like wow I exist but there’s no reason and I wish I didn’t #i was hoping since December was such a time that I’d die but then december would have had one good thing happen for me so #sorry to like summon death on main this is nothing new #like #I can get a job I can study for and hopefully get my ged I can study for and get my permit #but that still won’t mean my life will be worth living or that I have even the slightest idea of what my future holds #I’m not even going to make up things anymore either #‘I want to live in a cottage with two cats and work as a librarian’ was a nice dream in theory I guess but like realistically that’s also #so far out of my reach #gtg the cats are antagonizing each other #tiny knows fluffy hates her

0 notes

thetetra · 1 year

Text

Alright so I was reminded of a story which I call "Librarians bite"

I tried college on for size 4 or 5 times before it really stuck and I went all the way towards a major (I accidentally got a double major, on accident, but that's another story).

My last go at it I was pretty good at it and I was very enthusiastic about the library and how it was a no judgement zone. You can show up a complete moron and the help desk will help you IF you go in early enough. I always told people "Its okay Librarians don't bite!"

So due to my many attempts at college my required courses were all screwed up. So my last term I had to take "how to write a research paper" after I had that shit on lockdown. So I decided to have fun with it and research "A medieval technology that hasn't changed even to this day". Which was harder than I thought.

Horse tack! how to harness a horse has to be something they mastered in... oh in the 1800s they figured out a better way. Okay well how about .... oh umm no. Finally I gave up and decided to write about soap because it went ALL THE WAY!!! till the 50s and 60s then got replaced by detergent. Sure there's technology that hasn't been replaced at all but none that was distinctly medieval and not upgraded since then. So fuck it soap it is.

I get to the library and I find plenty of books on the first instances of soap (Romans wrote down that the Gauls had this red hair product that looked like blood... due to all the blood in it) the original uses (man this shit really softens up fibers for weaving!) and then I started looking for books that talked about the switch to detergents. Nope, 1960 is too recent. BUT there are industry magazines that talk about detergents between 1950 and 1960.

So off to the microfiche collection!

I looked the appropriate section up, pulled the editions I wanted and... its perfume. Lovely article about how pheromones are too delicate and break down so we can't actually put human pheromones in perfumes (uhh wat?). So I go and look it up again. Same section same problem. I googled the Dewey decimal system and made sure I had it right... according to my best reckoning I did.

Okay off to the help desk. I show up with the microfiche in hand and immediately have to explain "no no I can operate the machine that's not the problem" and start explaining my issue. The help desk clerk does all the double checking I just did and eventually decides "yeah you didn't fuck this up" (paraphrased).

So I get to talk to the help desk librarian and... it just so happened that she was the keeper of the microfilm and microfiche collections. We confirmed that I had 2 weeks till my paper was due, that I had looked for other sources and found them and then we finally went al looked at the microfiche.. we again confirm that I have the right Dewey decimal system spot. And then the change happened. She was skeptical, ahe was stern, but she was helpful and respectful.

Then she (a 5'2" 100lbs woman) grabbed my (6' 300 lbs man) arm and dragged me along like I was a kite in a storm. a tiny scared kite in a big scary storm.

I am a large guy. I have always been larger than my peers. I have learned that I have to take steps to not appear scary. I am respectful of boundaries and rules, I don't raise my voice or show any extreme of emotion. So when I got dragged into the back room STAFF ONLY rooms of the library I was uncomfortable. I was then dragged into offices, disrupted phone calls and breaking up meetings. these calm Clark Kenteon librarians became an ironic barbarian horde who were going to ransack the world till their archives were restored to good order. Minime Logos Minime Pax ( pardon my poor Latin).

Once they were assembled, me still held firmly by the wrist, my librarian told the tribe of my tale of academic woe. Looks of anger and shock made homes on everyone's faces. I can still remember my librarian being so angry that she bit the air with every word. like she was devouring the fabric of existence itself in an attempt to sate her hunger.

Then a very precise and orderly pecking order of people spoke up. First a librarian who was in charge of usage statistics spoke on how the information I was requesting had not been looked at in more than 20 years. Next a librarian who was in charge of what was on the floor and what was in storage spoke up and expressed how the perfume trade magazines were supposed to be in storage and the chemical industry available because we had an active chemistry department.

Thusly in short order the storage location was put on the conference call phone and queried about what was in the box that was supposed to hold the perfume trade magazine microfiche. 5 minutes of rummaging on the phone and we had confirmation, my chemical trade magazines talking about detergent were directly swapped.

a courier was immediately dispatched to bring me my requested study materials and I was finally unhanded, guided to a study room and sat down while they brought me print outs of everything I asked for... printing fee waived.

So now I tell people that you should go to the library and to have plenty of time before your paper to find and checkout needed study materials... but I no longer say that librarians don't bite.

#research #academia #library #librarians #book #books #microfiche #I believe that librarians are cryptids now #cryptid #psychological horror #I shouldn't be alive #true stories #humorous anecdote

102 notes · View notes

wuahae · 7 months

Note

CONGRATS AGAIN MY LOVELY SHING STAR BFF TWINSTER 4LYFER CAT!!!! im forever proud of u my lovely <333

hopefully i can send a little request of jacob (sorry i am in my crazy cobster feelings) + 8:24 pm + a library!!

(suggestive; minors dni!)

[20:24] / library

“jacob.”

there’s the distinct noise of your clothes rustling, wooden chair creaking as jacob leans over more, breathing in your scent as he nuzzles into the nape of your neck. “hmm?”

“jacob, not here.” a beat of silence, and then nothing. he shifts lower—higher, if you account for his hand on your thigh. you try again, voice wavering. “jacob.”

“yes, my love?”

“don’t ‘my love’ me!” you hiss, smacking him lightly. “we could get caught!”

he hums again, leisurely, innocently. “by who?”

it’s times like these you really wonder how you end up in situations like this. the only reason you were in this godforsaken (you can only hope god isn’t watching) library in the first place on a friday night was because you had this cursed essay due at midnight, and by the time you’d arrived at the library in the afternoon, you hadn’t even started. jacob had joined you around six pm with the promise of dinner together, but as the minutes ticked by and the essay wasn’t exactly writing itself, that promise seemed more futile by the second.

(“let’s go,” he’d said, tucking his chin on your shoulder as he looked over at your laptop. “you can take a little break to go eat.”

“i can’t,” you bemoaned, fingers clacking away at your keyboard, 15 separate tabs opened on your browser along with multiple other windows. “this is life or death.”

well, it might as well have been. this damn thing was worth 15% of your grade.

jacob then drawled out your name slowly, sweetly, and instinctively, you tensed. the cursor blinked on your screen, halfway through typing a word. a chill ran up your spine—you’ve known him long enough to sense danger before it came.)

and that was how the situation escalated to this, secluded in the stacks of the library, completely at your boyfriend’s mercy.

“we’re going to get banned from the library,” you manage to make out through breathless puffs of air and restrained whines as jacob inches his fingers higher up your inner thigh, tracing little shapes onto the sensitive skin. he sucks on the thin skin of your throat once, like a point of emphasis, before letting go to murmur.

“don’t worry,” he assures. “no one’s coming by here at this hour. and besides—” jacob makes his first bold move, his thumb moving up and brushing slightly over your underwear. “even if we did get caught, we wouldn’t get banned. the librarian loves me.”

he gives a little more pressure, a soft tug at the nape of your neck, and a soft moan passes by your lips before you slap your hand over your mouth, squeaking out whatever was left. “jacob!”

“so you do want to get caught,” jacob muses, warm breath twisting your stomach into knots. “i’m okay with that too, but you should have just said so from the beginning. we could have chosen a much more conspicuous—” he strokes you again, harder, and your legs spread involuntarily “—spot.”

“th…that’s not what i—” you try to say, but it all comes out jumbled from your cotton-heavy tongue, brain foggy as the ugly yellow library lights clash with the blue light emitting from the computer screen, half-written document staring right back at you. “you know i have to get this done.”

“you can spare a few moments to go eat, love.” it must be a talent of his, the ability to sound so sweet and kind even as he watches you dissolve away in his palm like wet tissue paper. no wonder no one ever believes you when you tell them of your jacob-inflicted woes. “you haven’t had anything since breakfast.”

“i had a—ah—a protein bar.”

jacob tilts your chin towards him with his other hand, a disapproving look. “now we both know that isn’t a meal.”

you choke back a frustrated cry, squeezing your eyes shut. “jacob—”

“why are you calling me that?”

“what?”

“my name,” jacob says, thumbing the edge of your underwear aside. your gut twists again, breath catching as he ghosts a finger over you, fully bared for him. satisfaction seeps and settles into him, even as he tries to keep up the innocent charade, the way he smiles knowing he has you right where he wants you. he knows exactly what to expect when he starts these kinds of things with you, having done so too many times before; this time is no different. “call me cobie, like you always do.”

this is it. this truly is the end for you. everything feels so loud—your restrained moans, the rumble of the air conditioning, the slip of his finger against you that only gets more obscene as he mouths at you. cobie is for when he’s normal, when he’s kind and gentle and the textbook definition of the perfect boyfriend, not when he’s like this, when he’s trying to unmake you until he’s left with only your want. it’s why you try your luck again, consequences be damned. (maybe out of spite, maybe to gain back some sense of control in the midst of his molding.) “jacob, i really don’t think that’s what we should be—”

“cobie,” he corrects, insistent. “say it with me. co—“ he draws out the syllables, sweet and melodic, hand slipping completely underneath your panties and pinching your clit “—bie.”

the surprised yelp that escapes you is unrestrained, unfiltered, the embarrassment rushing through your veins somehow just making the burning in your core grow hotter. “come on, say it,” jacob probes, and you’re fumbling to hold onto anything that can ground you: the chair edge, the table, the toned arm between your legs, flexing as he slowly drags you to a high.

“can you feel that?” he asks softly, palm pressed firm against you, slick and wet and desperate. he drags his fingers (the second is a new addition; he doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches) and lets them catch at your opening. your head spins, his fingers teasing around and never in. “looks like your body is honest even when you don’t want to be.”

jacob lingers, pauses his ministrations for a moment too long, and you let out a questioning whine in response. it’s pleading, it’s instinctive, it’s downright humiliating, but it pales in comparison to the way you feel yourself clench around nothing, the way your hips twitch and jerk, rutting against anything he’s willing to give you.

“p—please—”

jacob grinds his hand down, sucking at a spot beneath your jaw that has you clenching again, words incomprehensible and slurred and almost piteous with how much you beg. he runs a hand along your jaw and guides your face to him once again, his eyes patient and giving, the meaning you know of far too well. he’ll give you what you need, if you give him what he wants. and he stills. “‘please,’ what?”

fuck it all. fuck propriety and what’s left of your dignity and fuck that goddamn assignment. you've had your grave dug—you have for a long time. all you needed to do now is lie in it. blood pounds in your ears, white noise buzzing through your body; the defeat forms heavy on your tongue, your mind hazy and scrabbling for something. anything. (desire is a potent thing, and jacob has always known just where to press to make you crumble.) “please…cobie.”

jacob’s hand traces your cheek gently, lovingly, as if you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on (you are. you always have been), and smiles. “that’s my girl. that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

he pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist as his fingers beneath you draw nearer once more, ready to plunge in and claim what’s his for the taking—

a notification pops up in the corner of your laptop, the little jingle signifying a new email sounding through the empty library. lolling your head against his shoulder, you move to catch a glimpse of what could possibly be sent to you at eight in the evening, only to see an announcement that makes you forget everything that was happening prior: good evening class. due to unforeseen circumstances, the essay final draft due date will be changed to monday midnight. hope you’re all doing well. happy weekend!

you both blink at the screen, frozen. jacob pulls his hand away from you, scooching his chair back to its regular place, but you’re still reading the email over and over again to make sure you aren’t hallucinating in a fit of hysteria.

“i’m not imagining it, right?” you ask jacob dumbly, pointing at the screen. “he really posted an extension?”

“yup!” jacob grins back. “isn’t this great? now we can finally go home.”

you shut your laptop, a sigh of relief heaving from your chest as you move to slip it back into your backpack. “thank god, cause even without what you were trying to pull, i really was not going to make it in time for—what are you doing?”

hand on the edge of your chair, jacob’s pushed you out slightly from underneath the table, kneeling to slip into the gap before pulling you back in. he places one hand on each of your knees, a distinct glint in his eyes. “well, we have to finish what we started, don’t we?”

fear. dread. a strange, twisted sense of arousal. “i thought you wanted to go get dinner?”

“i do,” jacob smiles, mischievous and teasing as he spreads your legs. pliant. “dinner’s right here.”

#tbz smut #tbz x reader #jacob x reader #jacob bae x reader #1k event!#i sustained 1000 psychic damage from this #🐜🎒........

42 notes · View notes