Fluff X Reader - Blog Posts

Scenarios/headcanons about how Brett Hand feels safe with her!

-🌌

Stay With Me, I Don’t Want You to Leave ⭑.ᐟ

a/n — Sometimes I don’t proofread my fics because the thought of reading my own writing back makes me want to die! WHY’S IT ALWAYS SOUND SO BAD??

warnings — Just fluff, like one sex joke, gender neutral reader, hurt/comfort.

summary — Scenarios/headcanons about how Brett Hand feels safe with you

⭑.ᐟ Brett is already desperate for everyone else’s validation, so this would definitely be enhanced with his significant other.

⭑.ᐟ He would live to please you, so you need to be able to keep it real with him. Ground him, while still showing him love.

⭑.ᐟ He has so much crippling self doubt, daily affirmations from you would be very helpful.

⭑.ᐟ Telling him how cute he looks while you straighten his tie in the morning, and at the end of the day always finding something to compliment him about.

“I think you handled that situation earlier really well, by the way,” You looked out the car window. Brett seemed especially anxious, judging from the natural frown on his face and his deadly grip on the steering wheel. “Really?” He asked.

“Yeah, I never know what to do when Reagan looses one of her science-y tools. Girls already uptight, but when she can’t get her work done. Woof—” Your tone was light, he always felt more comfortable that way.

He smiled, looking up, “Yeah, she really hates inconveniences. That’s why I always carry an extra crowbar on my person — it is very uncomfortable under a suit jacket!”

“Well, that’s really considerate, baby.” His grip finally loosened, shoulders resting. “Thanks,” his smile was soft.

⭑.ᐟ You giving your full attention to him any time would also make him feel very safe and loved.

⭑.ᐟ People obviously acknowledge him, but when your attention is payed in full it makes him feel so appreciated. (Also given his childhood).

⭑.ᐟ Having an understanding of his body language is also very important, because if he’s upset chances are we won’t tell because he doesn’t wanna ruin your mood.

⭑.ᐟ So if his acting off, take his hand in yours, caress his knuckles, and subtly ask about what would help.

Ex. “Do you need anything?” “We don’t have to do anything later. I think there’s a Friends marathon on later, how’s that sound?”

Watch him kinda loosen up and look at you with such appreciation. “Yeah, yeah. That sounds good,” he’s almost sigh with relief.

⭑.ᐟ He doesn’t feel like anything is expected of him in your relationship, he can just exist and be himself without having to put on a show.

( I could see him talking to Reagan about you, “They actually like watching old 80s movies with me— Have you ever met anyone willing to sit through a Van Dam movie? I only know two people: me and them! MAN, those movies suck.

“And the sex - its great! For like 15 years, I thought my only kink was fufilling other peoples kinks, turns out there’s SO much more to me, Reagan!” )

⭑.ᐟ Brett really feels seen around you, like you actually make him feel cared about. And that is such a big part in his feeling safe with you.

a/n — btw, Reagan fic coming hopefully tonight. After that I wanna do something with Gigi, peg Brett, and then probably a Stanley Pines fic?

FIDDLEFIRD PROMPT FIDDLEFORD PROMPT

Mister country boy meeting a goth/rebel kind of reader and he is just putty but very embarrassed about it

Golden reviver boy and black cat gn

My P.U.N.K. Girl

warnings — SFW, just fluff, young!fiddleford, college fiddleford implied, gn reader

summary —Fiddleford x Alternative!reader headcanons

<𝟑 Imagine a small town country bumpkin who barely left the farm seeing a goth or punk person for the first time.

<𝟑 Your first meeting wasn’t even a meeting, because he was looking at you from a distance and ran into a pole.

<𝟑 Maybe you finally call him out on his staring, by marching at him very confused, and almost angrily. Presumably in the 70s, most states you got were with fowl intent.

“Why are you always doing that?” You ask, “Staring at me like I have a third head.”

His eyes widened. “Why I— I reckon your most striking person i’ve ever seen,” then he blushed and shrank back into himself, “If I may say so myself, [ma’am/sir].”

Your tone softened, “oh.”

<𝟑 He’d be so smitten with his alternative partner, thinking you’re breathtaking in every way.

<𝟑 The way you decorate yourself is just as fascinating to him as the politics of it all which, being as sheltered as him, he knew little about before you.

<𝟑 He doesn’t understand a lot of it, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think you’re beautiful.

<𝟑 Imagine getting him all dolled up like you one time, after hours of persistence.

“I don’t know ‘bout this, darling, I think i’m better off—“ He’d try to say before you turn his chair around to face the mirror.

You shush him. “What about now?” He looked at himself and studied his face and clothes.

“Imagine me in this old getup— I look ridiculous!” He’d almost laugh.

You release a giddy giggle, “You look amazing!”

<𝟑 These movements are very rooted in politics, so imagine dragging him to a protest. He would probably feel incredibly out of place, poor thing.

<𝟑 He’d be so blushy around you, he just thinks your so breathtaking and bold, it’s hard not to get weak in the knees when your here.

<𝟑 If you have a punk or goth band that goes with your subculture, he’d be at every show! Despite how loud it is, and even if he’s swamped in work.

<𝟑 Picture him in the back, stopping his twiddling with his mechanics to look up at you, being utterly yourself. Perfect.

Silly request but imagine helping Bill "groom" his triangle self. Gently wipe him with a cloth. Carefully dip it in the little space between the bricks, can't leave that zone unclean! Alternatively, a classic soapy bubble bath. Silly straws included, what the hell, he's probably drinking the bath water and listing the chemical ingredients back at you while you gently rub him clean. Fun times

The Bug Collector

1.1k words,, Bill Cipher x reader

a/n — Procrastination killed my soul during this, I think it turned out okay, though! Sorry for typos, your girl is tired.

warnings — SFW, post!weirdmaggedon, as ‘fluffy’ as you can get with Bill cipher, he is his own warning, kinda toxic relationships, fluff and bill being pathetic

summary — Reader assists a recently fallen Bill Cipher in self care, despite his general all-mighty asshole-ness.

The exoskeleton of a bug was practical, a water-tight barrier most commonly known for muscle attachments, and its use to shelter and protect the insects gushy insides from its harsh environment. 

The exoskeleton of a triangle was for mostly for aesthetics, as the underneath was far more horrifying than anything in the harsh environment around it. Or so the triangle claims.

You dipped a soapy sponge into the bucket in front of you, as bill propped his feet up on the bathtub. 

“You conquer worlds and destroy planets, but yeah, why not draw the line at cleaning yourself.”

“Please, what better way to make use out of my new human pet— partner, than this?” He corrected loudly and purposefully. Then looking to the side, he mumbled, “And besides, kid, you have no idea how hard it is to clean between the bricks. Euck— So many blind spots.”

The first part was a throwaway reminder that he had far more power than you in this dynamic, something you’d picked up on Bill casually doing in his time with you. 

Being roommates with a butt-hurt demon, given the ending of weirdmaggedon, allowed you the privilege of being more cautious than previous humans were with Bill. For example, you’ve taken to keeping track of his repeated habits and patterns. 

On of which, just so happened to be reminding you how small you were compared to him. 

You jabbed the sponge in-between on of the bricks, “Ow!” He narrowed his eye at you, “Watch it, pal. I’m starting to think you’ve never cleaned a triangle before.”

“I’d hate to give that impression.” You softened your hold on him, “Delicate work, I always say.”

And it was delicate work. After his defeat, he’d been roughed up a surprising bit, powers even weakened. 

Weakened.

“Not too delicate,” he shot you glance. Guess he’d heard that thought process. 

Although, most days he’d seemed to be in a thought process of his own. Weird.

You cleared your throat, “How often does this even need to be done?”

He blinked, “Well, let’s see. Once every—“ he waved his hand around “—few hundred years. Very high maintenance, do not recommend it.”

High maintenance, yeah. At this point, Bill had taken to talking about some other topic, you hadn’t been really listening, something about intergalactic food joints.

Every once and a while he’d bring up something that happened with one of his ‘henchmaniacs’ before getting slightly irritated at the lack of presence in his life now, and changing the subject. 

Bill was interesting to study, you couldn’t lie. His eyelashes curled away from each other, like the mangled legs of a recently dead spider. His hands were very present when he talked, like most people of business. His body flicked side to side slightly at certain moments. 

You became more gentle naturally, taking care of every crevice, and for some reason Bill becomes gradually quieter.

“Something wrong?” You asked, not stopping.

Bill blinked, “Eh, been a minute since i’ve had a human servant. Maybe, I was thinking of other things you can help with!”

You sigh, “Yeah, because i’m your servant. As if.” In your mind, your thinking do the fact he was your roommate, in your house, eating your food. 

“Hey, don’t get all butt-hurt. You’re all ants to me, buddy, nothing to be ashamed of!” His eye flicked back and forth between you and the room.

Then you stop scrubbing, “Bill, I might as well be your landlord.” You know he can read your thoughts, so you make a point to justify yourself. Already weakened from his failed apocalypse, anything other than vague respect for you would land him homeless. Most likely, his response to this would be killing you, but there’s only so much he can do afterwards. 

He’d have a place to stay, but with no electricity or heating, and in his damaged physical form he actively does need those things. And trying to get a new human would be a hassle, and unlike you, no guarantee they’d let him stay there without calling the authorities.

“Yeesh,” Bill remarks, “Buzzkill… You are still a bug compared to me, though—“

You drop the sponge in the bucket, “I think you’re done.”

He looks taken aback when you pull away, “What? Come on, over the bug comment? Jeez, buddy—“

“No I mean you’re actually done,” you gesture to his body, now shining and slick with soap suds. “I got everything, there’s nothing else to do.”

You go to turn around before you feel a small hand grabbing for the back of your shirt. 

“Wait, wait!” He breathes, eye flicking from side to side, “… You have to dry me off first.”

He looked slightly panicked, like if you stopped taking care of him now, you’d leave and never come back. Your thought process earlier couldn’t have helped. 

The way he scurried and gasped for you was reminiscent of panicked earwig and a rock is lifted up. The comparison should have grossed you out, but it kinda just made you feel a little bad.

If he was paying attention to your thoughts, he didn’t show it. This would have usually given you the impression he’d wanted you to be thinking the way you were, but he seemed a little wrapped up in his own head. 

“Come on, kid. Don’t tell me you’re gonna kick me out because I asked you to dry me off. One last thing and then you don’t even have to talk to me the rest of the night! Sounds like a good deal, right?” 

His slightly desperate looking sales pitch was met with a sigh, you picked up a dry towel and began to pat the soap suds off of him. His body slowly breathed in, making it look like he was sighing, but no noise came out.

You wondered then if he was actually touch-starved, but cut your thoughts there because this time he had nothing better to do then pay attention to what you were thinking. 

“Ouch, i’m not that desperate, pal.” But he was.

His exoskeleton was dry, but you didn’t stop patting him down. His eyelid shut slowly, and the spider-legs on them curled into each other once more. 

The exoskeleton of a bug was practical, but one of a triangle seemed to simply be for aesthetics. 

However, on some rare occasions, it possesses the same desire for love as human bodies. Only, when very desperate, of course. 

Secret Hideout, Secret Kiss

Synopsis: You discover a hidden spot in the mansion where Quicksilver goes to think. He shows it to you, and as you share secrets, the tension builds, leading to a soft, stolen kiss.

Warnings: Maybe some cursing, besides that, just fluff! ☁️🩷

You wandered through the surprisingly quiet halls of the X-Mansion, trying to find something to do on this slow day. You were about to walk past a small hallway but stopped, seeing a light under a door. Peter's door. It's not unusual for him to be up at this time, but something was off. You pressed your ear to the door, hearing some light curses and shuffling.

"Peter?" You knocked on the door, it creaking open. You saw Peter half-way out of his window with the all-too familiar silver jacket basically glowing in the moonlight. "Hey, baby- What do you need?" Peter cocked a smile on his face, now sitting on his windowsill. "What are you doing? Are you trying to kill yourself or something?" You walked in and shut the door, crossing your arms. "Just uh- looking at the moon. Mhm. Yep." Peter didn't even believe his own lie. How could he lie when you were standing right in front of him in your cute pajamas and the sleepy look on your face. "Mhm. Tell me the truth, Peter." He sighed and stood up, taking your hand. "Why use words when I can show you?" You were about to respond before he held the back of your head and speed through the house.

Before you knew it, you were outside.

"Peter, what are you-" He sped you into a small clubhouse. It was a cozy room filled with music players and dirty clothes. "I'd hope no one would find this place, but since I'm showing it to you, you're not finding it." Peter laid down into the beanbag chair, you sitting in the small chair in front of him. "Why keep this place hidden? Too small for anyone else?" You smiled, leaning back a bit. "That and I come here to be alone sometimes. I like having a big-mutant family and all but... It's a bit much with everyone. Sometimes a guy just needs-"

"A place too think."

"Mm... Yeah. You get it?" Peter cocked his neck to the side, his silver hair moving and settling into place. Damn, why did it take you this long to realize he was cute? Well- You've had thoughts before. But never so... vivid. "Yeah, sometimes it's a bit much. The talking, the fighting, the crowed hallways. Why do you think my headphones are basically attached to me?"

You chuckled, the tension easing as you exchanged glances, both of you sharing that unspoken understanding. Peter’s presence was oddly comforting in this hidden sanctuary, a stark contrast to the chaos of the mansion.

“Right?” he replied, a smirk playing on his lips. “It’s nice to have a little escape now and then. Like our own little secret.” He leaned forward slightly, eyes sparkling with mischief. “And now you’re in on it.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. “I guess that makes me special, huh?”

“Special indeed,” he said, his tone shifting to something softer. The playful air around him faded, replaced by a sincerity that made your heart race. “I don’t show this place to just anyone.”

The moment hung between you like a delicate thread, pulling you closer together. You watched as he shifted in the beanbag, looking slightly vulnerable but still that charming, cocky guy you knew. “So, what else do you do in your secret hideout?” you asked, trying to keep the mood light, even as the tension crackled in the air.

“Sometimes I think about life, or I just play music and pretend I’m a rockstar,” he said with a chuckle, but his eyes were serious. “But mostly, I just think about… stuff.”

“Stuff?” You raised an eyebrow, leaning forward, intrigued. “What kind of stuff?”

He hesitated for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “You know, like… what it all means. Being a mutant, having powers, all that. But lately, I’ve been thinking about people too.” His gaze locked onto yours, and you felt your breath hitch slightly.

“People?” you echoed, heart pounding. “Like…?”

“I dunno. Maybe people like... you.” The words hung in the air, heavy and electric. His expression was earnest, searching yours for a reaction.

You felt a rush of warmth spread across your cheeks. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice low. “You’ve always been there for me. And I’ve been wanting to tell you… well, I think you’re incredible.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your pulse quicken. It was that moment—the one that seemed to stretch and expand, where everything else faded away. You could hear your heart beating in your ears. “Peter, I—”

Before you could finish, he closed the distance between you, his hand brushing against your cheek. “Can I show you? How incredible I think you are.” he asked softly, and you nodded, breathless as your throat felt dry.

In an instant, his lips were on yours, tentative at first but quickly growing more confident, as if he were testing the waters of this uncharted territory. You melted into the kiss, feeling the warmth radiate between you, a rush of electricity that made everything else fade away. You reached up and felt his silver strands go through your fingers. This felt like a dream. He was kissing you, and not out of pity or a dare- Because he liked you. He really liked you...

When he pulled back, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other. “Wow,” he whispered, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “So, do you think I could ever be a rockstar?”

You laughed, the moment lightening but the intensity still there. “You definitely have the charm for it,” you replied, heart still racing. “But let’s focus on this secret hideout first.” He chuckled, that easy, familiar laugh you loved. “Deal.” The night stretched out before you, filled with possibilities, the quiet of the clubhouse now brimming with newfound connection.

Do not copy or translate plz! -CallMe_Bunni