Not an ask but... I'm deceased. "Leo and Kay" is adorable how am I just now hearing about this???? Also the cat ear beanie??? I n e e d it?? I like your arts.
Thank you! I’m really hoping to start an official webcomic for them maybe when I graduate? Idk but it’s definitely something I really wanna do. Just need to develop the supporting cast, think of a way to start it, think of a title, etc etc. Until then I hope you enjoy the occasional doodle and comic I make of them!
Summary: Request from Anon -The boys get bored and insisted on joining you while you grocery shop. [and it turned into whatever this is, sorry.]**
Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes
Word Count: 1300+
Warnings: Language, implied smut, terrible writing, PWP, Ash having a computer, smut, idfk reader beware.
A/N: This is a rewrite from a SPN fic I wrote from an anon request. The bolded italics are the reader’s thoughts. I wasn’t going to tell you that but I figured I save myself the time of answering asks about it.
Day 11 without a hint of action and the boys are officially driving me nuts. With the Accords in place, Bucky in recovery, and Tony Stark nowhere to be found, life was pretty dull around your safe house.
I, on the other hand, have buried myself into my writing. Finally putting some much needed thought into my novel, adding bit and pieces to my screenplay, and dabbling in some prose that was a little ‘less dignified’. I spend way more time thinking of synonyms of penis, than I’d like to admit.
The guys weren’t prepared for the sudden onslaught of nothingness and since I’d taken up permanent residence with them, I was now their sole form of entertainment.
Rukia rushes to the living world, quickly getting into her gigai, renji behind her. She’s running as fast as she can, right as she’s about to get to the clinic door Ichigo opens it. He was waiting what took so long. She had to pick up this fool, points to Renji and check on their squad. She says hi to everyone. The asks ichigo ask “where are my boys?” Ichigo says “they ran upstairs, you know how they love to play our old room”. Cut to their kids playing hide and seek in rukias old closet one kid distracted by the Ichiogs old badge. Right as hes about to touch it his twin pops out of the closet asking what’s taking so long. Distracted he forgets about it. Rukia opens the door and both boys run to mommy. She playfully scolds them, they’re going it miss aunt tatsukis championship fight. The three go down stairs, the boys run to the couch with grandpa isshin going to hug them only for them to slip right past him. Isshin starts to cry and yuzu and Karin like always deal with him. Ichigo walks up to rukia slides his arm around her waist and says “you did good shinigami”, rukia looks to him says “my name’s not shinigami fool, its kurosaki, kurosaki rukia”.
They’re both shinigami. Ichigo left ahead of her with the kids. Rukia stayed back to take care of the squad and to pick up renji.
- catch this boy giving the desserts names with Broadway themed puns
- “It’s the Alexander Jamilton!”
- “Really, babe? You’re just like Bob from Bob’s Burgers.”
- “Would you like to call it the Elder CunningJam instead?”
- matching aprons!!!
- Jared and Connor eat there so often they almost work there
- when you or Evan is sick or has plans during work, you call Connor or Jared to fill in
- Connor always puts his hair up in a bun
- he likes making cinnamon sugar soft pretzels (aka Book Of CinnaMormons)
- Jared is 100% there to decorate cupcakes
- he actually ordered toothpicks with Kermit memes on them (CupKerms, as he calls them)
- the whole squad comes to you with their cake needs
- you and Evan always suggest recipes to each other to try out
- “Dammit, the New York cheesecake cracked in the oven. We have to toss it and start over.”
- “Why destroy something perfect in order to make it beautiful?”
- “Don’t get philosophical with me over a cheesecake.”
- Connor and Jared will happily take anything you or Evan messed up on
- instead of playing whatever’s on the radio, the music in your bakery is mostly Broadway
- dancing around the kitchen when there are no customers
- living above the bakery, so your house constantly smells fantastic from the bakery smells wafting up
- one day, Jasmine Cephas-Jones and Anthony Ramos themselves walk in
- “Evan, Evan, Evan-“
- “What is i- holy shit.”
- they’re laughing at the Hamilton themed puns while you and Evan are trying not to freak out
- they order the Schuyler Sisters (three cupcakes, one vanilla with yellow frosting, one chocolate with blue frosting, and one strawberry with pink frosting)
- “They’re so good!”
- "Evan, they like our baking.”
- getting a lot of new business after that because Jasmine posted about your bakery
It’s five o’clock in the morning. Louis has a lecture at half eight.
He could be using this time to study or to do his readings or to go to
the gym, but - well. He doesn’t have any exams coming up, he’s not going
to his seminar today anyway and he hates the gym.
Instead he’s using this time to fuck with Harry Styles’ poor little brain.
Louis Tomlinson is perfect. He is the captain of the football team, a
straight A student and the most popular boy in school. But when he is
not that, he is sitting in a bakery with a curly boy that keeps calling
“That is not a normal thing to do with a bloke you’re just friends with, Harry,” Liam says.
Harry can’t stop his laugh. “You give angry pouty Louis tiny little
mouth kisses every time you leave to go back to your own place,” Harry
says. “Zayn and Niall give angry pouty Louis tiny little mouth kisses
all the time. Are all of you in love with him?”
“How did tiny little mouth kisses start?” Liam asks. Harry stops laughing and folds his arms over his chest.
Today my youngest turns 13. Thirteen!!! I officially have two teenagers. He is definitely my playful one who loves life. His birthday request (because he didn’t think I could do it) was vanilla cupcakes with a butterscotch filling and cream cheese frosting with sprinkles. I even found dinosaur ones :)
“Daddy?” Amelia asked, though everyone else at the table wasn’t sure it came from her. She struggled to get up in the chair, the voice seeming to come from no one until her head popped up moments later.
“Yes, my pet?” He asked, looking at her past the newspaper he had open.
“Where do you go?”
“What do you mean?” He asked confused, eyeing you as you took your seat opposite him.
“When you leave everyday to go to work, where do you go?”
My dad writes a poem for my mom every Christmas, and she frames them and puts them up all over the house. I’ve always thought ‘That. That’s what love is. That’s what I want.’ Today, I went to a bakery with a boy and we talked and laughed about the silly little things we both do, and I learned that his laugh reminds me of fluttering wings and soaring so high you can do nothing but smile. We adventured through to the bookstore for hours and read and goofed off between the shelves, and I learned about the stories he’s made of and his terribly hilarious sense of humor. He told me he had always felt a little lonely as we walked around town with coffee, and when I grabbed his hand, it closed around mine like it was the easiest, most natural thing in the entire world. It felt like I was holding the moon. He shook hands with my father and I stood there smiling and thought, ‘This. This is what it feels like.’
There’s a customer who’s really awkward and buys a brownie every time he comes by.
fluff + comedy, 1.5k words, kihyun/reader, bakery au
You look up from your spot at the register when the bell chimes softly, signalling the arrival of a new customer. He’s cute. You smile to yourself as his eyes wander around the small cafe, taking in every detail with quiet awe. A few seconds pass before you speak up. “Can I help you?”
He startles and turns to stares at you dumbly. You raise a brow, and, after a few seconds of no response, you shrug uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze and turn towards the back room for more cookies. Maybe he wasn’t ready? But suddenly, he seems to come back to life.
“Oh, hah, uh, hi,” he stammers. His face had been slowly reddening over the past minute, and now he’s full on blushing. He steps right up to the counter and shuffles his feet awkwardly. “Can I have one of um, this?” He jabs his finger at the glass, gesturing to either the brownies and the cheesecake–you can’t tell which.
“Which one?” you ask, sliding open the glass door.
“Uh, the brownies,” he says, though he sounds rather uncertain.
Imagine Crutchie meeting your parents for the first time:
Crutchie stands just down the hall from your apartment, barely leaning against his crutch as he taps his good foot nervously against the wooden floor. He’d been standing there for a couple of minutes, contemplating how tonight will go. He twists the single daisy (it was all he had enough for) around between his fingers as he stares at it. Will your mom like it?
Sighing, he straightens up and makes his way down the short stretch of hallway to your door. Standing nervously by the staircase for another five minutes won’t solve anything. Taking a deep breath, he switches the daisy to his left hand and knocks on your door with his right.
After a couple of seconds, the door swings open to reveal you, and all of Crutchie’s worry melts away at the sight of you. Your hair is in a very loose updo, with small, (h/c) strands falling out to frame your face perfectly. Your eyes brighten when you see him, and you smile. “Hello.”
Crutchie grins lopsidedly, noticing the bit of flour on your cheek. “Hiya, sweetheart.” He steps inside the apartment, kissing your cheek softly. “How are you?”
Your eyes widen, and you exhale slowly through your mouth. Crutchie chuckles to himself at your exasperation. That one expression was all the answer he needed to know what you were feeling.
“(Y/n), is he here?” A feminine voice comes from the kitchen, and your mother appears in the doorway, hands on her hips. She immediately notices the handsome blonde man with a lopsided smile and a daisy in his hand, leaning against a wooden crutch. Your mother smiles nervously before saying, “You must be Crutchie. I’m Mrs. (l/n).”
Crutchie smiles and ambles forward with his crutch, embracing your mother softly, startling her a bit. “It’s nice to finally meet ya, ma'am. (y/n)’s told me lots about ya.” After pulling away from the hug, he looks down at the small daisy in his hand and offers it to your mom. “This here’s for you. I know it isn’t much, but …”
With slightly widened eyes, your mother takes the daisy out of Crutchie’s outstretched hand. “Thank you, dear. Would you like to come sit down with (d/n) while (y/n) and I finish dinner? It should be ready in a couple of minutes.”
Crutchie smiles again, tensing a bit at the terrifying thought of meeting your father. “Sure.” He’s about to follow your mom into the kitchen, when a hand around his stops him. Your hand.
“She loves you, Crutch,” you whisper softly, squeezing his hand. “My daddy will too. Thank you again for doing this.”
He smiles down at you. “Anythin’ for my goil.”
Giggling, you kiss his cheek before leading him into the kitchen and to the small round table in the corner, where your father sits reading the newspaper. Crutchie smiles to himself, having memorized the headline for today anyway. Your father looks up and smiles thinly, standing up from his seat at the table. “Hello, young man.”
Crutchie smiles and shuffles the rest of the way over to the table, extending his free hand to your father for him to shake. “Good to finally meet ya, sir. I’m Crutchie.”
Your father’s eyes flicker to the raggedy crutch before settling back on Crutchie’s face as he sits back down. “Fitting name.”
“Ah …” Crutchie trails off, lowering himself slowly and carefully into one of the chairs and scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I, uh, don’t remember my real folks. After I got sick, they left me for dead. Didn’t even remember my name, until Jack found me and gave me a new one.”
Crutchie swallows nervously, holding onto the sound of your sweet voice sounding from the kitchen as you talk to your mother for strength. “My friend, well, more like my brother. He took me in when no one else would, helped me survive all these years.”
(D/n) nods, and they both hear you say: “Dinner’s ready, come and get it!”
Both men stand (Crutchie a little slower), and make their way to the kitchen to fill their plates. Crutchie takes one look at the mashed potatoes with gravy and the salad and the chicken, and his mouth immediately begins to water. “It looks delicious,” he says to no one in particular, eyes flicking over the plates in awe. He hasn’t seen this much food in forever. Literally.
“Oh, thank you,” your mother says, handing Crutchie a plate. The four of you fill your plates in silence until you make your way back to the table with the food.
Your mom glances at Crutchie’s plate, and sees the single piece of chicken, and minimal amount of salad and potatoes. “Please, sweetie, have as much as you want. There will be plenty of leftovers.”
Crutchie swallows the mouth full of chicken he had been chewing before responding: “Oh, thank you, ma'am, but I really couldn’t. Half of the boys back at the lodging house haven’t had food like this, or even seen food like this, in years. I couldn’t let myself be the only one ta have it.”
Your father frowns, looking around at the simple meal on the table. “What do you boys eat?”
“Well,” Crutchie says, setting his fork down, “we usually only make a dollar or so a day, sometimes more. Just enough to get a piece of bread from the bakery for lunch and pay for our bed each night. Having potatoes and chicken is a real treat, so thank you again, Mrs. (l/n).”
Your mother smiles at him, heart breaking a little bit as the realization of what those boys go through everyday hits her. “Anytime, sweetheart.”
Crutchie takes another bite and swallows before saying: “Of course, it’s always nice when (y/n) here shows up with extra baked goods from the bakery for the boys. They love her just as much as I do, I’d bet.”
Smiling, you take Crutchie’s free hand in yours. He’s too sweet. Your mom smiles at the love in yours and Crutchie’s eyes. The both of you have something special between you. Your father can see it too, and he can’t help but smile to himself.
“Now, how long do you plan on being a newsboy?” He asks. “If I was informed correctly, you are 19 years old?”
“No, (y/n), it’s a'ight. It’s a good question,” Crutchie says, patting your hand. “I actually–and I haven’t told you this yet, (y/n)–met with Governor Roosevelt last week about the possibility of me running the new Refuge, and making sure it’s a good place for kids to sleep at night and everythin’. It’s still in the works, but we all knows that I can’t keeps on bein’ a newsie now that I’m an adult.”
“That’s great, Crutchie!” You exclaim, smiling widely at him. “You would be perfect to run the new refuge. It’s comforting to know that someone like you, someone who will actually take care of the kids, is going to.”
He laughs. “Ah, let’s not get too far ahead of ourselfs. It ain’t official yet.”
The rest of dinner goes by very well, with small talk and laughter ringing through your small apartment. Your parents love Crutchie. He’s handsome, kind, compassionate, and perfect for their daughter. On their way out, your father shakes Crutchie’s hand, both of them smiling, and your mom kisses his cheek. Then they head for home, radiating happiness for their daughter.
Crutchie sticks around your apartment a little longer to help clean up. Your mother was right, there is some extra food, and Crutchie convinced you to let him invite the boys over tomorrow night for a “feast.” They deserve it.
“That went well,” you say, smiling at Crutchie as you both linger by the door. Neither of you want him to leave, even though you both know he has to. “My parents adore you just as much as I do, crutch.”
He leans a little heavier on his crutch, gazing at you with tired, but loving eyes. “And I still adore you as much as I did yesterday. You were worried for nuthin’, sweetie. Your folks is great.”
“I know,” you say, looking down and pushing a loose curl behind your ear. Crutchie smiles down at you and takes a step closer to you. He takes your chin and softly lifts your head up before kissing you softly on the lips.
It only lasts a couple of seconds, but everything he’s thinking is conveyed to you through that kiss. A kiss full of love, adoration, and promise. A promise that will last forever. He pulls away first, and you smile up at him.
“Until tomorrow, (y/n),” he says, stepping out the door. “I love you.”
Author’s note: I’m sorry this was so rambly :( I hope you still enjoy and please give me feedback.
Not many people left Small Heath to go pursue education, you only knew of a handful of people that had and only one of which was another women. She pretty much inspired you. You always excelled in class and when it reached the time of finishing school you decided you would apply to university. You applied for the University of London and a month later you were packed up and moving down to London to study Accountancy and English Literature. The whole of Small Heath was buzzing that one of their own was going off to bigger and better things. Luckily for you, your childhood friend John and his brothers were in London quite often so he assured you and your mum that you would be well looked after. You moved into a small apartment on the edge of Camden town.
Prompt: REQUESTED BY ANON: SDR x reader where reader owns a coffee shop/bakery and the boys kinda go in every day and hang out and kinda flirt with her while she’s working
Pairing: Going to be Southern Democratic Republicans X Reader, but this part is Jefferson X Reader
Au: Café Au
TW: pg cursing, mentions a bra???
A/N: Hey guys! So I know the anon requested it as an everyday SDR cute thing, but I love this so much and it’s going to be a smol series, so bear with me! This is the first chapter, and my first time writing SDR, so be kind please! I can’t wait to pan out with the anon’s request! Thank you all so much for the support and love! I love you! If you want me to tag something, let me know! I want you to feel safe when reading my work! Please enjoy!
Word Count: 1049
You had worked so hard to have your own coffee shop. So hard. This was what you had wanted for years, and it felt so good to live your dream. You had been open for a few months now, and you had a rather good reputation in the city. You had a few employees-meager teenagers-who were efficient and competent. You were like an older sister to them. They followed you around like little ducklings, even though they’d never admit it.
It was a rainy day outside when you opened at five in the morning on a Tuesday.You wanted to be open early enough for those early risers-and maybe it was also because you didn’t have a practical sleeping schedule. This wasn’t odd for you. You opened at five every morning; it was still dark as night outside. The odd part was the guy dashing in a few minutes later, completely drenched despite his umbrella. He looked delectable. His hair was dripping wet, but it still had a lot of poof. He adjusted the collar of his magenta jacket, and seemed completely oblivious to you. He closed his umbrella and shook it over the doormat before he finally glanced up at you.
“Hi,” you said as his movements slowed, and he just gawked at you while holding his umbrella out. You glanced between him and the umbrella a few times before he caught the gesture and cleared his threat. He put the umbrella down and ran a hand through his hair, then he brushed the sleeves of his coat.
“Mornin’,” he greeted you before he hung his umbrella on the coat rack, and he kept his coat on. “It’s nice to have a coffee shop open so early.”
You nodded and watched as he looked around at the different signs. You realized he was a lot taller than you, too, by the way he didn’t even have to really look up at the signs. You, on the other hand, had to crane your neck back.
“Right, can I get a coffee? Black?” He asked, and you pulled your chin back into your neck in confusion. He just spent a good two minutes looking at your menu to ask for a black coffee? Who was this man? “Nah, I’m just play’. Can I actually get an almond milk based caramel machioto and a blueberry muffin?”
He looked down abruptly and laughed at the look of confusion on your face before you’d had the chance to wipe it away. “That’s cute,” he mumbled, and you shook your head in dismay before you began to put his order in. “No really, it’s a good look for you… the whole chin thing…”
You scoffed and looked back up at him to see him grinning. “You’re funny,” you said in as much as a monotonous voice you could manage, “Mr….?” You needed a name to put down on his order.
“Thomas Jefferson, but you can call me Tom,” he offered, and he held out his hand. You’d noticed he had southern charm to match that southern drawl of his.
“Um, Y/N…” you hesitantly shook his hand. You’d never had a customer like this before. “It’s nice to meet you, Tammy.”
He jerked his chin to you and squinted when you called him Tammy, and it was your turn to laugh.
He handed you a ten dollar bill and told you to keep the change, which you gladly did. “I’ll have that right out for you,” you informed him before you went to the sink to wash your hands. You began to make the drink for him.
When you placed the order in front of him, he was leaning against the counter, texting someone quickly. His eye brows were drawn in concentration as his fingers moved a hundred miles a minute.
“You good, Tammy?” You asked quietly, and he looked over at you from the screen.
“Sorry ‘bout that. My mama taught me better, I promise,” you giggled at that and he continued, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just… James is sick again, and Aaron keeps texting me updates every five minutes, even though I checked him before I left for my shift last night, and he was totally fine, like, it wasn’t life or death… and you have no idea who these people are, and I’m problem dumping on you! I’m so sorry!”
You shook your head, just now noticing the dark blue scrubs that were beneath the magenta coat. You finally put together that he worked the night shift at the hospital… down the street. How had you never met him before? “Oh no! It’s okay! I’m sorry about your friend, I’m sure he’s alright! You’re probably exhausted!”
He nodded and kind of deflated, letting go of this big, tall, refreshed man, and he looked beat. “It was a long shift at the hospital. Car accident last night, wasn’t pretty. And I’ve been worried about James all night… But when I get home, a new doctoring shift begins…”
You bit your lip, feeling kinda sorry for him. You left the counter and began to make another drink. He watched you, not saying anything, until you came back and placed the other drink in front of him. “Give this to Aaron and get to sleep. You need it.”
He laughed and thanked you before he straightened up. He took the muffin and extra drink in his hand, thanked you one more time, and left the shop after retrieving his umbrella. You watched him go, a flash of magenta blown back as the door opened.
He turned to you over his shoulder, “By the way,” he called, “I’m no expert, but I’m fairly certain the bra goes on underneath the shirt, but I could be wrong!”
The door shut, and you looked down in horror. That asshole! How had he not said anything?! True to his statement, you were so disoriented and tired when you got dressed this morning that you had put on your bra over your tank top. And he let you talk to him for a good ten minutes like that! This was it. Time to close down your shop for good and move to another planet. Jeez. How embarrassing. You were mortified for the rest of the day.