#and he's also a sad wet towel of a man

[captainsparklefingers]

I'm thinking of reasons for why Seward would contact Van Helsing in the 'lucy goes with Mina and gets a temporary reprieve from Drac' au that's looking more and more likely to be a thing I'll try to end up writing.

Obviously, in the main story, it's love for Lucy and a friendship with Arthur that acts as the main motivation. Remove Lucy from the picture, what would concern or intrigue Seward enough to reach out to his old colleague?

I'm thinking of a twofold approach. The first one is Renfield, and his behavior in the wake of Dracula's arrival becoming more erratic (continued attempts at nighttime escapes being the big one), and the second one is still connected to Lucy: her mother.

Now, I'm not thinking that Dracula would target Mrs. Westenra, she's not his type (or maybe the blood of a woman dying slowly from heart failure isn't appetizing, idk). But Lucy, writing to Arthur after a last minute decision to join Mina, would likely tell him to look after her mother and keep her company. We know the Westenra household has maids, it comes up later when SPOILERS. Some of them may be in the same age group as Lucy.

With his target of choice gone, Dracula would be forced to explore other options. Perhaps he starts close to where he originally wanted to hunt, and several of the Westenra maids start to fall ill with strange symptoms that could be caused by who knows what. Dracula could and probably would likely spread out from there, perhaps not targeting any one person in an attempt to turn them but treating the town like an open buffet.

Arthur, doing as Lucy asked, visiting her mother, could hear of the maids falling in. Perhaps he'd see one looking pale and almost bloodless and tired in a way that doesn't look like overworking. Perhaps he'd write to his friend Seward and express concern that this could spread to Lucy's mother, and if he has time would he consider coming out for a check up with some of these ladies? Just so that he doesn't have to tell Lucy her mother was surrounded by sick people, so that he's doing as she asked and making sure her mother is doing well (and maybe in the face of what's happening to her father, this actually feels like something he can do something about).

And if Jack does, out of friendship for Arthur and a love for Lucy that would drive him to do something small or odd like this to ensure her continued happiness, he would have results similar to what he got examining Lucy. Nothing that would indicate any sort of physical illness but something clearly isn't right. And then maybe he'd hear other women were having similar symptoms. Maybe there's a pattern to which women are falling sick. Hell, maybe there's other weirdness in town that could be considered a coincidence but who knows! And now, there's medical curiosity as a motive to write his colleague who specializes in unusual diseases. Who would say yes both for love of his friend and because of professional interests.

It's obviously not as personal a motive but I think it could still work? It may need some tweaking though. Until I figure out the best way to make the ripple effects of Lucy leaving work for the rest of the story, it's all outlining and figuring out bits for now.

(and yes, Quincy still remembers what happened to his horse and brings that up, because it's relevant and he wanted to spend time with his bros.)

(....even without having the full long term plot I still want to write Lucy's letter to her mother and her first travel journal entry anyway.)

[tsxkkis]

# iwaizumi hajime - won't let go

a/n = i'm not the best at writing hurt/comfort type of stuff, but i hope this piece is alright ^^ also we love iwaizumi on this acc sm he's the man fr.

summary = after an argument, iwaizumi needs to apologize.

warnings = one swear word, argument, idk what else.

the sound of rain hitting the ground came from behind your window, being the only thing disrupting the silence inside. the storm was getting heavier with each passing hour, taking you and many others by surprise, since the last few weeks have all been sunny and warm. luckily you didn't go outside today; or the day before, or two days before, or ever since the argument.

the last thing you expected, in this type of weather especially, was to hear a knock on the door. you didn't order anything, and your parents were supposed to come back from their trip on sunday. so who could it possibly be?

you slowly opened the door only to be met with the tall, dark-haired boy, his clothes soaking wet from the rain, hair sticking to his forehead.

iwaizumi.

"what are you doing her-"

your words were quickly cut off by the boy, his eyes locked on the ground in front of him before his head went up, his focus now on your face.

"i'm sorry."

you were used to the fact that iwaizumi didn't show much emotion on his face, but you also knew one other thing. his eyes would always tell the truth. and right now, as you stared into them, you were positive about how genuine his words were.

"iwa, we can't go on like this if you don't trust me."

he knew you were right. after all, that was the most crucial part of a relationship; trusting one another wholeheartedly. and iwaizumi trusted you, there was no doubt of that. but something was different that day.

maybe it was the fact that he was mad after losing the match. maybe it was how jealous he was at the smile you gave to the karasuno members, how you celebrated with them after they won. but all of those things just rubbed him the wrong way.

he knew that you were their manager, but you were also his girlfriend. and something made him feel betrayed that day.

"maybe we shouldn't continue this, then."

his words felt like a knife going right through your heart. you could feel your eyes getting watery the very moment they left iwaizumi's mouth. as you looked down, trying to hold back the tears as well as thinking of what you should say back to him, you heard kiyoko, one of your fellow managers, calling you from the other side of the hall, since there was a team meeting before the next game.

you turned around and left, without a word, wiping away the single tear that managed to slip and roll down your cheek, assuring your friends that yes, everything is okay.

oh, what a lie that was.

you didn't see him since last week. in the meantime, karasuno managed to win the final and secure their place in nationals, and as happy as you were for your team, you couldn't help but shake the sadness away after what happened between you and iwaizumi.

"come inside. you're gonna catch a cold." a deep sigh left your lips as you gestured for him to enter the house, closing the door behind him. you quickly turned around heading towards the bathroom. "you're soaking wet. i'll grab you a towel."

"please, listen to me first." iwaizumi's voice sounded desperate as it echoed from behind you, his hand reaching out to gently grab you by the arm.

"not until i'm sure you won't get sick." you looked at him for a spare second, and he decided not to stop you. he waited patiently in the hallway, reaching out to take the towel you handed him the moment you stepped out of the bathroom, along with a hoodie and pants for him to change into.

his hoodie and his pants. ones that he left in your house on purpose, ones you always used as pajamas when the nights got cold.

as you stood there in silence, watching iwaizumi dry his hair, you couldn't help but realize how awkward it all felt. it was never this way between you two; you could spend hours without speaking, just spending quality time with each other and it just felt right. but now, after the argument it was different. and you didn't enjoy that at all.

"i'm sorry. about what i said after the game." he took a deep breath, looking up at you, his words disrupting the silence. "i was just, jealous. and mad. i was mad after losing that match, and it made me even more furious to see that you were so, happy."

you didn't bother to interrupt him, letting him explain everything.

"i know you're their manager, and you felt happy your team won. i completely understand that. it would be weird if you weren't cheering them on. i just couldn't help but feel bad." his eyes were glued to the floor, the overwhelming feeling of shame taking over him. "i know that i fucked up, really badly, and there's nothing to excuse what i said that day." iwaizumi could feel the tears starting to form, but he did his best not to let them spill, a shaky breath escaping his lips. "i just need you to know that- that i don't feel that way. i don't think we shouldn't continue this thing that we have. because i love you. i love you too much to lose you like this, to lose you because of my stupid actions."

your eyes widened at his words. there it was.

the first time he ever said those words.

you took a step towards him, your hand reaching out to gently lay down on his cheek, a small yet warm and gentle smile gracing your face.

"it's okay, hajime." your words sounded so soothing to him, you're voice calming and soft, even though millions of emotions were going through you that moment. "i accept your apology. i just couldn't help but feel hurt by your words that day, you know. i think it's quite understandable."

he looked up at you, nodding in response, as his hand instinctively went up to yours, thumb trailing little circles on the outer part of it.

"and, one more thing." he had a questioning look on his face, his head tilted to the side as he heard your words, your body moving just a little bit closer to him. "i love you too."

a shy smile appeared on his face, his fingers interlocked with yours as you stared at each other, both happy inside that this situation was over with.

"it's still raining. you can stay here until it stops, if you want."

iwaizumi squeezed your hand, his smile noticeably growing as he heard it.

"i would love to."

taglist: @ox1-lovesick @moonswolfie @wyrcan

[toxicanonymity]

that's the spot

2.3k | masseur!joel x f!reader | masterlist

This was a request from @megangovier20. ty @dark-scape for the title. Also highly recommend @swiftispunk's amazing masseuse!reader fic: say it with your hands.

warnings: I8+ non-outbreak, Joel jacks off, unsafe PiV, reader pressures joel, wants a rough touch, can sit on Joel

Your friend referred you to Joel for your back, and after having his hands on you that first time, you needed more.  He was gentle and professional.  Too gentle. Too professional. You yearned for a rougher touch and he couldn’t stop calling you “ma’am” at first, even when you asked him not to.  The room was tranquil and minimalist.  There was a shelf for your clothes, a hook for your keys, a chair, and a massage table.  It was dimly lit and he wore a linen tunic with matching drawstring pants.  He gave you privacy while you stripped down to just a towel. 

Initially, you were startled by how handsome he was – the perfect hook of his nose, his tortured brow, and sad eyes. The mesmerizing pattern of his facial hair.  But you were at ease once he spoke in a low, calming voice as he kneaded your back.   “You’re too young ‘n healthy to be walkin’ around with back pain” was the first thing he said with you face down on his table.  The depth and masculine softness of his voice mesmerized you, and from then on, you tried to keep him talking as much as you could.  It was hard, though –  he wasn’t much of a talker.  

Joel’s hands on your back did as much for you as any other man’s hands between your legs.   It had been a long time since a man touched you at all.  But as far as you could remember, no one’s hands compared to his, not even close.  Strong and massive, gliding across your smooth skin, firmly pressing into your muscles, they turned you on unlike anything you’d felt before.

Every time you left his office, you were in desperate need of release.  You squeezed your thighs together as soon as you got in your car, and once in the privacy of your bedroom, you thought about nothing but his hands all over you as you brought yourself to climax.  It never took long after an appointment with Joel. 

-

One day, you asked Joel if he could be a little rougher with you.  

“Rougher?” he asked skeptically. 

“Don’t be afraid to hurt me,” you told him.  

He was hesitant and explained he’s trained in specific massage techniques, “and rougher ain’t one of’em.”  He offered to try the massage gun on you instead.  The thought of a tool instead of his hands didn’t do it for you, so you told him maybe another time.  

The next time, you slipped him some extra cash and asked him to work you over as hard as he was willing to.  He searched your eyes and must have seen the desperation, because he wouldn’t take the folded bills,  but he finally agreed. 

At first, it was only slightly rougher than usual.  

“Good, that’s great,” you kept telling him.  “Perfect.”  Your praise gave him the confidence to continue.  “More,” you kept telling him.  “Harder.”  

When he finished that day, there was something in the air between you, like each of you knew this was going to become more than massage therapy.  Seeing it in your eyes appeared to be the confirmation he needed. He again refused the extra cash.  

In the following weeks, when you said “harder” or “please, rougher,” he obliged, often grunting with the effort.  He used his elbows at times.  

“Damn, you like it real rough, don’t ya?”  he muttered at one point.   It was a far cry from his professionalism at the first appointment, and it turned you on that you were breaking down his walls.  He was good at hiding his arousal, but you could hear it in his voice.  

At the end of the appointments, he always composed himself back into the perfect professional.  He scanned your body and wet his lips, but there was no sign he’d make a move.  He had the self-control you lacked. 

-

One week, you asked him to get on top of you.

“If that’s what ya need, sugar. . . I’m here to give ya what ya need.” Those words sent a rush of blood to your loins.  

At your urging, Joel got on the massage table and straddled your ass.  He used his fists and knuckles and his body weight.  You sighed and moaned as he pushed the sweetest pops and cracks out of your skeleton. His grunts and heavy breaths made a symphony with your own sounds.  

You ached and throbbed between the legs.  After a particularly sensual sigh left your mouth, you felt his crotch twitch before lifting off your ass. He wasn’t going to let you feel him get hard, but the knowledge of it made you swell with need. 

“Lower,” you said. He scooted back, moving down your body, and kneaded your back lower and lower until his hands were almost at your ass. 

“Lower,” you pleaded. “Lose the towel.” He took the towel off you, and his big hands slowly crept onto your ass cheeks. 

“Yes,” you said. “Feels so good. . .”  

He took two handfuls of your ass and inhaled loudly.  

"Ohhh,” you sighed.  You were close to coming. 

“Feels that good, huh?” he said in a low, horny murmur.  

He flattened his hands and slid them from your ass, down the curve of your lower back, up to your shoulder blades and said “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” 

The contrast of his light touch and the desire in his voice did it for you.  You clenched your thighs together and sighed as you reached your release.  You dug your pubic bone into the table with your pulsations and he took his hands off you in astonishment. 

“Fuuuck,” he sighed and brought his hands down gently on your back.  “Was that what I think it was?”

“You have a way with those hands, Joel.”  

“God damn,” he said.  

-

“Will you lie down on me?” you asked. 

“I, uh, I’m really enjoyin’ all this. . .but I think I better not right now.” 

“You dunno how good you make me feel,” you gushed.  “You dunno much I need this."

He was quiet.  “Nice of you to say that. . . tryin’ to be professional, but god damn, you make it hard.”  

“And that's exactly how I want you,” you purred.  “Come on.  Lie down on me for just a minute.  Let me feel you for just a minute, and I swear to God I’ll leave.” 

After a few seconds he agreed, “Only have a minute ‘til I gotta go anyway.”  

Your hands were under your head with your elbows out to the side.  He walked on his knees back up the table, pants dragging against your sides.  Then he slid his large, veiny hands under your arms, sending a rush through you.  He put his forearms down on the table.  Then he got in a plank and you felt the linen of his tunic hang against your needy skin. 

He dipped his hips and lightly grazed your ass with the hardness in his pants.  He murmured into your hair, “Guess this is what you want?”

“Mmmm, yeah. . .” you replied.

Then he laid onto you, lowering his pelvis first.  You moaned and he sighed as his hard bulge pushed against your inner thighs. 

"Gimme all your weight."

He slowly lowered more of his weight.  

“God damn, sugar. . . you got me breakin’ all kinda rules.” He swelled harder against you, making your whole body weak with desire, and you savored the weight of his body on yours.  Your insides buzzed from head to toe.  His hips just barely thrust into yours, making you wetter.  

“Mmm,” you sighed.

He stayed there for a minute, just barely rutting into you, then sighed loudly as he climbed down from the table.  “Sorry, sugar.  That’s it for today.”  His massive palm lightly stroked your upper back.  “I’ll let you get dressed.” 

You turned over onto your side, facing him before he could turn around to leave.  You followed his eyes to your naked breasts before he could avert them.  He swallowed and clasped his hands in front of his crotch, trying to regain his composure. 

“Joel….” you said and lightly stroked his inner elbow.  His eyes met yours again and he bit his lip.  “Thank you.” 

He winked. “See ya next time, sugar.” 

-

You looked at the clock and realized you might make him late for his next appointment.  You quickly dressed in a daze, your whole body tingling with the afterglow as you put on your jeans and t-shirt.  It wasn’t until you were in the parking lot that you realized you left your keys on the hook in his massage room.  When you came back in, the receptionist was closing the appointment book.  

“Excuse me, I don’t want to interrupt Joel’s next appointment, but I left my keys in there. . ..”

“Oh, you were his last appointment for the day.  I think he’s probably gone.”

“Oh. . .” 

“Go ahead, it should be unlocked.” 

-

As you approached the door and put your hand on it, you heard him sighing over the squish of skin.  Your breath hitched.  So that was why he had to go.  Fair enough.  You took a deep breath, turned the handle, and opened the door.  

In the dimly lit room, Joel was seated in the chair with his legs spread wide.  His strong, veiny hand was wrapped around his hard cock. He froze when you opened the door, pausing mid-stroke. You nearly scared him to death.  He opened his mouth, but words didn’t come out.  There was a look in your eyes that paralyzed him.  He watched with bated breath as you closed the door behind you.  You took your keys off the wall and suddenly he looked more embarrassed, like of course, that’s why you’re back.  

He started to tuck himself away, but you shook your head, don’t.  You stepped out of your shoes, and as soon as you pocketed your keys, you unbuttoned your pants.   You took  your underwear down with them and his eyes fell to your nakedness.  He looked at you with his chest heaving, mouth watering, and rubbed his lips together as you crossed the room.  He was holding his dick back against himself and cupping his balls with his other hand. 

When you got to him, you put your hands on his shoulders, and slowly mounted him.  You stayed hovering over his lap, then you took off your shirt and bra.  One more step and you would be directly over his cock.  “God damn, you’re hot,” he said to your tits, then took a deep breath.  

“Heard you’re off the clock now,” you replied in a low, sexy voice.  

“Guess I am,” he murmured, glancing up at your face.  

You looked down at his stiff member, weeping with precum, and you wet your lips.  He held it at attention for you and gently cupped your ass with his other hand.  He gave it a light squeeze with his palm, prompting you to take that last step forward.  His face looked about as needy as you were for his body on yours earlier.  His cock looked delicious and its angry pink head was begging to be inside you.  His girth was impressive, and it had been a long time for you, but you knew you could take him because you had never, ever been so ready.  Your body yearned to be filled by his.  

You lowered yourself onto him, and when his cock’s swollen head met your dripping entrance, you sighed as your body took him in.  You sank right down, letting his girth spread you apart.  You gasped when your bodies were flush and sighed as your body finished rearranging itself around him.

“Fuuck,” he breathed.  He looked down at where your bodies met, then looked back up at you, astonished.  

You gently rocked there, enjoying the fullness of him all the way inside you. His pubic bone, cushioned by neatly trimmed hair, rubbed against your clit and your pleasure built rapidly.  

You began to lift and lower yourself on his rock-hard shaft and he grunted as his hips moved in rhythm with yours.  Each time you claimed his full length, the tension inside you swelled.  He looked back and forth between your eyes and mouth, then you kissed him.  He eagerly accepted your mouth, and when your tongue parted his lips, he sucked with an, "Mmm."  Your lips broke away only to whimper as you rode him, building quickly toward your orgasm.  Your breath was hot against his cheek, and his against yours as you rode his thick cock.  His head fell back with a moan.

“Easy. sugar. I’m not lastin’ long like this.” His voice amplified everything you were feeling.  The next time you took his full shaft inside you,  you stayed down and rocked your hips again. 

“Fuck, you feel too good,” he panted and a look of pain spread across his face. He held both your ass cheeks. His lips puckered with an exhale, his climax looming ever closer.  You came down hard on him one last time and groaned as your tension released into something otherworldly.  You clenched around him and a powerful flex of his strong arms abruptly lifted you by the ass, prying you off his cock.  

He came as soon as his cock sprang out of you.  Still in the throws of your own climax, you pulsed and moaned and and sat on his thighs watching the last of his cum dribble onto his uniform.  

“Sorry,” he panted, catching his breath.  He was self-conscious about the timing, even though you came.  

“Shouldn’t have started without me,” you teased him. You sat there for a minute in silence and rested your head on his shoulder.  He rubbed your back. 

You asked him, “What were you thinking about?”

“Hmm?” he asked. 

“When I walked in on you.  What were you thinking about?”

He looked at the massage table.  “How ‘bout I show you next time?” 

-

As always, thank you SO much for your engagement! I love y'all so much. 🖤 I notice and appreciate every comment and reblog even if I don't respond out of self consciousness to flood my comments.

PSA, PLEASE CHECK YOUR CONTENT SETTINGS. Many of my posts have been flagged very quickly recently even if they weren't explicit (like lincoln 1) so if you don't want to miss anything, you might want to follow me and check my profile regularly (filter to "latest fics" from my header) or get on the joel tag list.

[pinecipitation]

STARDEW VALLEY SAM X GN!READER HCS

word count: 800+

authors note: I’m not rereading this if there’s a mistake or something doesn’t make sense, IGNORE it 😭😭

warnings: none I think!! mentions of drinking, but only for Sam

- uses so much hairspray that you like to pretend that it got you, dramatically clutching your heart and falling to your knees whenever he accidentally sprays it over his shoulder onto you. lucky for you he plays along and drops it, immediately falling to your side and yelling for paramedics

- cannot survive a single day without your touch, whenever both of you are home he immediately comes to rest his chin on your shoulder or place his hands around your torso for a back hug. most days he will just pick you up without a word, your complaints and giggles on deaf ears as he silently carries you to the couch or bedroom

- that being said, LOVES to lay on top of you even when you complain and kick him off. he’ll go limp

- overheats so easily, call him “my man” or “pretty boy” or anything relating to that and he’ll turn red

- when he kisses you, a small quirk he does is audibly go ‘mwAH’

- wherever you work or whenever he’s over to pick up some produce at your place, will NEVER let the same joke go. He’d lean over any table or counter and try to brush his hair back with the same stupid “Do I get a discount if I flirt with the cute farmer/cashier?” and unfortunately you fall for it every time

- the first few times you jokingly said no or didn’t answer, he’d pout and begrudgingly take out a tiny note pad and make a small pretend tally on it, the whole time sadly and longingly looking over at you and pretend to write in a sad diary entry

- he’s a big fan of reoccurring bits

- we all know I’m a huge fan of multiple piercings, grown out brown roots, crop top at gigs version Sam

- but I also love summer Sam, where he’s running around in the water and splashing his friends and little brother at the beach

- I love messy hair Sam where it gets wet and it’s down, and how he looks completely different from his usual hairstyle but he’s still the same man

- I love out-of-breath Sam when he’s sneaking up behind you on your beach chair, jumping on you and immediately picking you up while you’re screaming about his salty wet body on your dry clothes, him giggling as he threatens to walk you two closer to the shoreline

- I love affectionate Sam who will come sit on the sand next to you if you’re more of a under-the-umbrella person, collecting little shells and rocks and balancing them on your left leg as you read or lay back and watch him. He just wants to be near you

- Y’all know that trend where it’s a guy with the caption “Waiting for my wife to finish putting on my sunscreen so I can go play” and when she’s done, the man sprints towards the beach/pool? That’s him, that’s him your honor

- I love somewhat athletic Sam who would eat up everyone in a game of volleyball or a swim competition at a swimming pool, feeling the need to express to everyone that even though he sucks at video games or pool, he does overshadow it by being better at ball games

- I love sunburn prone Sam where he almost always accidentally tires himself out and falls asleep on a beach towel, waking up a few hours later with a very visible red tint to him, or he falls asleep under an umbrella but one of his arms or legs were out and now he’s part red

- I love sunburnt Sam where he’s shakingly laid out on his stomach on his bed, hissing every time your cold hand spreads aloe vera on his unfortunate back. But once you’re done he gets up, coming over to envelop you in a hug and thanking you for taking care of him

- I love restaurant dinners on the beach Sam, who didn’t realize he was on his fourth or fifth glass and is slightly drunk

- I love clingy drunk Sam, who Sebastian and Abigail left under your care as he leans and drapes over you on your walk back home, talking to seemingly no one as he lists out things about you that he adores

- I love Sam, the way every time he gets drunk or tipsy he looks at you like he’s amazed you’re near him, not fully clocking that you two are together and he’s acting like he’s shy on a crush

- he likes you to be in the room when he gets ready for shows or dresses up, him always making a point to huff and get frustrated at his eyeliner just so you notice and offer to help. you miss his sly smile before he turns around and agrees, calling you his hero and drenching you in thanks until the next time he pretends to need help

- despite the soundproof garage, you always seem to hear a muffled agitated groan whenever he can’t get a riff or a certain note to sound right, always going over to check and he’s laid on his back on the floor like a bear rug in frustration. he does bounce back up when he sees you, complaining about the instrument briefly before asking you to stay with him. “good luck charm,” he calls you

- it’s without mention that you go to every show and gig, Sam always subtly looking for you in the crowd when he’s up there. you do think it’s funny to switch where you are from show to show, just so you notice him immediately look to the right and scan for you until he lights up and sees you on the left

- Sam with kids, he’d treat them like a baby sibling instead of a child

- literally any pinterest redraw meme where it’s a grown adult and a child, that’s them

- once the child is a little bigger and starts playing video games, he gets a little offended that the kid keeps coming to you for help instead of him

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

I feel warm thanks to friends and supporters. Especially Lemonadeicesoda. Thank you. Enjoy this drabble

You huffed in annoyance as you clung to the bath towel closer to your wet skin. Your ex Navy Seal boyfriend or whatever he was to you. He kidnapped your ass.

Norman was lifting his weights. And he was making you watch him. He said he doesn't trust you alone without his watchful eye. He makes you stay. Even chopping wood.

You knew he was bullshitting you. That millionaire set up cameras all around his mansion. And his dogs and guns were there too to prevent you from running away... Again.

You tried but you were so pathetic. Norman easily caught you without anyone's help.

You gave up running away.

The punishment of his belt gave you bad memories.

You knew Norman couldn't stay away from you. You would have gushed from his attention. But, you didn't love that psycho bastard. And you also knew that jerk was showing off his strength. As if that would make you fall in love.

You scowled. You will never love that wrinkly old man. You didn't do anything. Norman used to be blind for months. He got surgery. Then demanded you to pay him for the cost. Ironically, he didn't want money. He has more than enough. As an excuse, he said he wanted your love and companionship as his girlfriend.

Now, here you were. Broken spirited. Norman looked at your beautiful sad face in the corner of his blue eyes. He wished you would smile. But, you seemed to always hate him. He didn't mean to slap or whip you for misbehaving and giving him attitude.

He wanted to marry you and give you children. You just had to give him a chance first instead of blocking him out.

The loud thud caused you to jump. The heavy weights fell on the floor.

He was leaving his home gym early.

You were not a sports girl. You took ballet from time to time as a small hobby. And would walk and hike.

But, your beautiful yet small and flat duck feet made you a horrid swimmer. Norman was so obsessed with survival training. You wondered why

You were definitely not thinking of Joining a military branch so why would this old man force his ideals on you like a dictator? As long as you live in his mansion you will obey his rules. You don't want to live with him and he will not let you go. Hypocrite jerk.

You simply cannot swim. Your own father gave up on you. He hired teachers and you failed to understand. Even kids were better than you. Which embarrassed your dad. As a last resort before giving up, your dad threw you inside the pool like he was by his cousins when he was a kid. Your dad sadly saved your pathetic ass from drowning. He gave up.

You wondered when Norm will give up on you. But that pervert must love looking at you in a skimpy bikini.

You used to take selfies on your Instagram and just pose next to water. But you would use life jackets to have fun with your friends. Now, you are regretting your actions. You were not a social media influencer. You wanted to be important rather than an entertainer. You wanted to be a linguist. Go to East Asian villages and study ancient and dead languages in rural places that has no technology.

But, here you were a kidnapped bride. Norman luckily promised to not force himself in you. Besides hugging and kissing.

Snapping back to reality, Norman sighed. "I know you're tired. Sleep now."

He picked you up from your sitting position bridal style and walked you to the bedroom you shared with him. He made you sleep next to him. That was all.

After making you remove your wet bikini and into your silk night dress. Norman was sitting on the bed waiting for you with a brush to untangle your long wet hair.

He kissed your bare neck after finished. He tucked you in.

You blinked in confusion. He will not join you? Giving you a sad smile, Norman traced your bottom fat lips with his thumb. He declared of some computer paper he has to type which will take hours.

He leaned in and you closed your eyes and said nothing as he kissed the tip your cute nose.

"Sleep well, doll."

You watched his muscled back walk out of the luxurious room then eventually slept.

Maybe... If you allowed Norman inside your heart, your new life will not always have to be the same boring routine.

Should you give it a try?

[nat-20s]

There's a poll going around on which Nuwho Doctor you could take in a fight and I don't wanna limit it to just choosing one so here's my very official and correct ranking of in Doctor vs Me who would win:

Twelve: Twelve straight up can and probably will beat me to death. Please do not make me fight Doctor Disco she has a guitar and he WILL use it like a steel chair against me. Also there's a decent chance I deserved it.

Nine: Can beat me to death but I'm PRETTY sure I could talk her out of it. For as much as Nine is a Bitch TM (EXTREMELY complimentary) I think I COULD be like "cmon man you don't wanna kill me :( aren't you tired of going apeshit?? don't you just want to be nice??" and he'd be like yeah okay :/

Fifteen: The only nuwho Doctor that I know actually goes to the gym and has a consistent workout. They would absolutely beat me in a fight but I think it'd be like a bar fight where we would go out for drinks and become best friends afterwards. I have a broken nose and I'm just like "oh yeah that came from my good buddy The Doctor :)!"

Thirteen: This is the most even match I'm not sure either one of us would win as much as we'd both be walking away with some serious wounds. We are both short kings and both of us would fight absolutely NASTY. There is a LOT of biting and hair pulling and scratching and kicking involved. One of us is leaving with a torn off earlobe and I genuinely do not know which one of us it is.

Ten: King of having a glass jaw. This Doctor gets knocked tf out SO many times. Like sure he's scrappy and Much taller than me but also every time I see David Tennant I'm like. Yeah I could probably pick that man up and throw him a good few feet. She gets a few good hits in but ultimately I am winning this fight.

Eleven: I am so sorry to both the Eleventh Doctor and to Matt Smith but they are EASILY the most punchable doctor. His face and clothes and demeanor all add up to an extremely specific type of like male computer science/physics double major that brings out the fucking worst in me. I am turning into a chimpazee that you made eye contact with. There is a 75% chance I'm straight up killing that man. I want cool house mother Doctor Disco and that regeneration is happening MUCH sooner.

Fourteen: From a physical standpoint? The Doctor I straight up could win in a fight easiest. As i stated with Ten I'm pretty sure I could pick him up and throw him but Fourteen wouldn't fight back. She is NOT scrappy her rage is burning out in seconds he is so so sad and wet. Wet paper towel of a man. I could take 'em down. I would feel so so so bad about it though.

[kinardbegins]

HIIII 😁

I'm leaving a lil idea in here: how about one or both of them being covered in soot (like tommy was) and them having a lil intimate moment helping the other or eachother clean up?

HI HI HI THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST <333

this one got soooo away from me lol it was supposed to be like 200ish words but omg yeah it got a lil deep

wc: 1.2k

no warnings but tommy's pretty sad in this (and buck's there for him <3)

also on ao3!

sense of belonging

Tommy can’t help it, he has to see Buck. He feels lost, as if nothing is ever going to be okay again, and he needs someone he knows he can count on. Someone he can trust. Which is how he finds himself outside the 118, grimacing at his old firehouse. He can’t deny that he misses it, but he also can’t deny that he never did belong there.

Eddie spots him from inside and makes his way over with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Hey, man! What are you doing here?”

Tommy tries to smile but it falls short. “Just finished work. Needed to see if… if he’s okay.”

There’s a shift, then, and Eddie just knows. Knows that something must have happened. Something must have set him off. “Yeah. Yeah, man, he said something about getting a shower just a few minutes ago. Got a bit dirty on the last call, which… seems like you did too.”

Tommy shrugs. He knows he looks like hell. Dirt sticks to his eyebrows and dried blood lines the straight-edge of his jawline and god knows what else is there. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror long enough to clear it off. Not after the shift he had. Not after the civilian he lost. 

Moving swiftly to the shower room, giving forced smiles to anyone who looks his way, he finds Buck stepping out the shower with a towel around his waist. If it were any other day, Tommy wouldn’t be able to look away from the water clinging to his toned muscles and the short hairs trailing below the towel. But now, in this moment, he can’t look away from his face, from the way his eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are slightly parted and his birthmark seems pinker than usual, almost crimson. And then he gets to watch how his face completely changes when he spots him. How he brightens immediately. As if just seeing him makes him the happiest man alive. 

It hits him square in the chest. He’s not sure how someone like Buck can look at someone like him and have that type of reaction. He’s not used to it. Sometimes he still wonders if this is the universe playing some sort of sick and twisted game with him and that one day he’ll wake up to find this all gone. Ripped away. Just like everything and everyone else he’s ever known.

But seeing that Buck is okay–seeing him there and happy and alive–brings up all these emotions Tommy can’t quite figure out right now. There’s relief, that’s for sure, and there’s happiness, but there’s also a stronger feeling than the usual flutter in his stomach and the tightness in his chest and that should scare him but it doesn’t. Buck opens his mouth to talk but all he gets out is a hmmph as Tommy takes two large steps toward him and they collide in a tight embrace. He doesn’t care that Buck is soaking wet from the shower and drenching his clothes, he just needs to feel close.

Buck seems to understand though because he says nothing. Instead, he pulls Tommy in closer and gently scratches at the short hairs at the base of his neck. It calms him down enough to pull back and look at Buck properly, taking him in and memorising that look on his face. Just in case.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice hoarse. 

Buck’s eyes soften. “Hey, yourself. Bad shift?”

“You have no idea.”

Buck cups his face and runs the pad of his thumb over his cheek. Tommy doesn’t remember a time he’s ever been touched so gently before. “I think I have some idea,” he says, sliding his hand down Tommy’s jaw and furrowing his eyebrows at the blood. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

“You should get dressed first,” Tommy mutters. He’s suddenly struck with the feeling that he’s being a burden. That he’s invading Buck’s space. His time. “Incase you need to run out.”

Buck seems like he’s about to protest when he realises that Tommy’s right. “I’ll be back in a second, I swear,” he sighs before ducking out of the room and leaving Tommy alone. It’s not until this moment he realises just how tired he really is. All he wants to do is go home and crawl into bed but he feels stuck. Like he can’t move. Risking a glance at the mirror, he’s grateful to find that he can’t see himself through the steam. He’s not quite ready to face himself yet.

But before he can dwell on it, or think about how it felt to watch someone die right in front of him (not for the first time, but certainly not for the last time either, and that makes his stomach twist uncomfortably), Buck is running back into the room and taking Tommy’s face in his hands. He tilts his head to one side and then the other before tutting and reaching out to turn on the tap, keeping one hand on Tommy at all times. Once he’s satisfied with the temperature of the water, he runs a cloth underneath it and rings it out before slowly reaching up to dab it over Tommy’s jawline. 

“Is this your blood?”

Tommy shrugs. “I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”

Buck pauses for a moment before moving to wipe at the dirt coating his eyebrow. “Do you wanna talk about what happened?”

Tommy shakes his head.

“Okay,” Buck says after a while, scrubbing away the last of the dirt. His touch is so gentle and so caring that Tommy fears he might cry. “Do you want to come eat with us? Bobby’s making his famous lasagne.” He pulls away the cloth and drops it in the sink, running some water over it for a moment before switching off the tap and putting all his attention back on Tommy. Both of his hands drop to Tommy’s shoulders and he smooths his palms across the broad expanse, offering a sweet smile. “You’ll love it.”

“I don’t know,” Tommy sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be, I promise. Bobby will love to have you; we all will.”

And that’s how Tommy finds himself sitting where he used to sit all those years ago, only this time he knows that he doesn’t have to hide who he is. So when Chimney brings up something Tommy did once on a call so long ago it feels like a past life, something shifts inside of him, and when Bobby claps him over the shoulder with a proud smile, that something becomes a little lighter. Hen smiles at him and Eddie bumps his arm against his and Ravi listens intently as he retells the story from his point of view. And when Buck laughs at a joke he makes, his head tilting back to let out the loveliest sound Tommy’s ever heard, and then he looks at him to see if he’s laughing too, Tommy can’t help the genuine smile that graces his face. And he realises he feels like he finally belongs. And that maybe, just maybe, things will be okay after all.

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Unconventional Flowers Event - March Bonus

Dahlias for Holi ft. Nanami

A/N: March bonus prompt for my Unconventional Flowers Event. I honestly was hoping for a very unique holiday and this got my attention in all the right ways. Requested by @sitarawrites. For more information on the Festival of Colors, visit Wikipedia.

Rating: E, fluffy

Pairing: Nanami x reader (Desi reader implied)

Word Count: 971

People had been skeptical of your marriage to Nanami, wondering how you would ever blend your rich, individual backgrounds. For the two of you, it just meant more cultural holidays to celebrate together, and spoiling each other with a wider variety of food and sweets accompanying each one. You knew he’d adapt well, he’s proven that when you were dating, even though Indian festivals tended to be crowded and loud. 

And you loved him for the way he kept up the rules that fell on your festival days. Vegetarian food only, and though he didn’t need to, he sat in the back while you offered your prayers, his hair damp because it was customary to always have your hair washed on festival days. The first piece of prasad which you offered to him with love after all the prayers and poojas were done, broken in half as he feeds it to you as well. It was bliss.

But the one festival Nanami refused to participate in was Holi. He had no qualms against the day in general, but rather, the way it was celebrated, by throwing colored water and powder onto others to celebrate the triumph of good over evil. You’d pouted because Holi also celebrated the love between Lord Krishna and his eternal love Radha, the most well-known romantic story in all of Hindu mythology. Not that he hadn’t given it a fair try. You’d told him to wear something old and casual but the man simply didn’t own anything that fell under those categories. He spluttered along gingerly at the fairgrounds while everyone played, his hair weighed down in his eyes by dyed water in shades of shocking pink, electric yellow, and robin’s egg blue. 

He hated the wetness, the noise, and the fact that the dyes used in the water and powder didn’t rub off for days (seriously, what was in that stuff?). After his first one which had occurred back when you were both initially dating, he’d politely told you he would not be participating in the ones to come as he tried to rub off the darkening pink that had stained his face, neck, and ears. The color had only taken in more on his pale skin, making him look like he had a bad sunburn, something that Gojo and Yuji had been quick to point out while teasing him to no end. 

So it became the rule that he would sit with you during the morning for prayers, and you went with your family and friends to the fairgrounds to celebrate the rest of the day by throwing color at each other. The first Holi after you got married though, you felt a small twinge of sadness that your husband would be absent for this affair but you hid it, pressing a kiss to his cheek before leaving.

When you arrive home, Nanami has laid down a towel trail from the door into the bathroom so that the color wouldn’t drip onto the carpet. You can’t help but appreciate his foresight on this; you loved Holi, but you certainly didn’t want to ruin the carpet. Under the hot spray, you let yourself wash off the colors that stuck to your body, watching them swirl into each other as they went down the drain. Honestly, it was only the pink that actually stuck, the rest of the colors washing off easily.  You step out, clean and fresh, and pad into the bedroom, to find Nanami sitting patiently on the bed with a cotton bag in his hands.

“Hey,” you say softly, tired from all the running around at the fairground and now the heat of the shower.

“Hey yourself.” He pats the space next to him. You oblige and sit next to him, the bed feeling soft and comforting after a long, energetic day.

“Did you have fun?” he gently rubs the top of your ear, now pink like a flamingo.

“Yeah. Missed you though.” You lace your fingers with his. 

“I know. Your face said it all when you left.” He kisses your hair, now washed and dried, smelling fragrant. “I’m sorry it disappoints you so much. But I just can’t find a way to enjoy playing Holi.”

You turn to kiss his jaw. “It’s not like you didn’t try. And you were miserable the whole time. It’s ok. It’s just one festival.”

“True. But. Maybe you and I can play Holi in a different way? One that involves colors but none of the mess?”

You look at him curiously, wondering what he had in mind before he hands you the bag he was holding. You peek into it and see that it’s filled to the brim with dahlias, your favorite flower. 

“Lay back.” You do as instructed, scooting up towards the pillows. Nanami dips his hand into the bag, picking up a pink flower. 

“Pink, to symbolize kindness and beauty.” He begins to lay all the pink flowers from the bag across your body shoulder to shoulder, like a devotee worshiping a goddess, and the act causes a rush of love to zoom through you.  

“Yellow, for cheer.” He places these across your chest and you hold still, not daring to move lest they fall off. 

“Orange, for celebrations and goodness.” These go across your stomach which is now jittery like there are a million butterflies in it. 

“Purple for respect and devotion.” The blooms are placed delicately along your legs and you feel giddy from the romance of it all. 

You lay there, colors all over your body, which was the whole point of Holi in the first place. Nanami carefully makes his way back up to your face, giving you a tender kiss on the lips, his eyes full of love.

“Happy Holi y/n. I hope this makes up for it.” 

All animated lines and banners by @/ cafekitsune

@bleach-your-panties @bleachbrainrotbro @kr0wu @grimmjowssoulmate-blog @j-u-u-z-o @brittscafe @keiva1000 @buttercupbitches @vee33ee @cindyneko-strider @dreaming-about-seireitei @quinnyundertow @naoyagasm @sitarawrites @sehunaeri @kentosgirlie @strawberrymuffinlovin @ickkck-09 @connorsui @arabidp0ssum @teasore @un-aesthetic @jadedjane

[lauralot89]

in all calmness I must proceed.

good luck with that buddy

Van Helsing returned with extraordinary celerity

I first read this as "extraordinary celery" and was very confused

We must be alone with him when he becomes conscious, after the operation.

wait are you going to operate on him on a blood-soaked floor? Did we know about bacteria at this point? I feel like we did

I'll be quiet, Doctor. Tell them to take off the strait-waistcoat. I have had a terrible dream, and it has left me so weak that I cannot move. What's wrong with my face?

I want you all to know that I'm not crying, but only because I went to a performance of Les Mis last night and I've run out of tears

Quick, Doctor, quick. I am dying! I feel that I have but a few minutes; and then I must go back to death—or worse! Wet my lips with brandy again. I have something that I must say before I die; or before my poor crushed brain dies anyhow.

I mean, not to tell a man dying of brain injuries what to do, but you should probably get to the point a little faster

He was interrupted by a word from the Professor

Guys Renfield has minutes to live

The Acherontia Aitetropos of the Sphinges—what you call the 'Death's-head Moth'

Van Helsing is that really relevant right now

I found myself opening the sash and saying to Him: 'Come in, Lord and Master!'

okay so Renfield has escaped multiple times but apparently has a room with a window he can open, great work Seward

I don't care for the pale people

Well no wonder he hates Dracula

So when He came to-night I was ready for Him. I saw the mist stealing in, and I grabbed it tight. I had heard that madmen have unnatural strength; and as I knew I was a madman—at times anyhow—I resolved to use my power. Ay, and He felt it too, for He had to come out of the mist to struggle with me. I held tight; and I thought I was going to win

at least for now, Renfield had taken Quincey's place as the greatest character in fiction. I do not accept debate.

Also this situation is deadly serious and very sad but can I just point out that Dracula very nearly lost a fistfight to a mortal man, and that's hilarious

listen you jerks, I know time is of the essence but even if you don't have time to apologize to Renfield for not listening him, you could at least thank him for telling you

"May it not frighten her terribly? It is unusual to break into a lady's room!"

Quincey. Quincey, I love you, but you are so stupid.

He dipped the end of a towel in cold water and with it began to flick him on the face

this is again not funny but it also kind of is

It interested me, even at that moment, to see, that, whilst the face of white set passion worked convulsively over the bowed head, the hands tenderly and lovingly stroked the ruffled hair.

It took me entirely too long to realize that Seward is describing Jonathan here, and not what Dracula was doing while he made Mina drink his blood. My brain is slow today.

Go on, friend Arthur. We want here no more concealments. Our hope now is in knowing all.

Little late for that, Professor Van Dumbass

Here I interrupted. "Thank God there is the other copy in the safe!"

oh sure, say that out loud when we don't know where Dracula is

I could not but feel that Art was keeping back something; but, as I took it that it was with a purpose, I said nothing

YOU ARE ALL SO STUPID

God knows that I do not want that you be pained; but it is need that we know all.

too bad you didn't reach that conclusion DAYS AGO

I was bewildered, and, strangely enough, I did not want to hinder him. I suppose it is a part of the horrible curse that such is, when his touch is on his victim.

I'm completely normal about the implications of this

Is it ever explained what the terrible odor that's associated with Dracula is? It's typically described in connection with his breath, so I thought at first they were smelling blood and finding it unpleasant, but from the description of the air in the chapel I think it must go beyond that. Is it the smell of decomposition? But then shouldn't it have been stronger when he was starving than it is now? Is it just stale air that's sat in his lungs for who knows how long? Does the blood he drinks rot inside of him once he's taken whatever he needs of it?

Whilst they played wits against me—against me who commanded nations, and intrigued for them, and fought for them, hundreds of years before they were born

I mean it does speak to the collective stupidity of the Crew of Light that Count "Throw Wolves at Everything" Dracula outsmarted them. That's got to hurt.

As it was, he thought that on the attendant's evidence he could give a certificate of death by misadventure in falling from bed.

oh yeah that's believable from his injuries

the very first thing we decided was that Mina should be in full confidence; that nothing of any sort—no matter how painful—should be kept from her.

too little too late, morons

"Because if I find in myself—and I shall watch keenly for it—a sign of harm to any that I love, I shall die!"

"You would not kill yourself?" he asked, hoarsely.

"I would; if there were no friend who loved me, who would save me such a pain, and so desperate an effort!"

Mina is amazing, if only anyone else had even half her sense

but now he does not know our intentions

they're damn lucky Dracula was probably too stupid to read the notes before he burned them

"Friend Quincey is right!" said the Professor. "His head is what you call in plane with the horizon

...do you mean on straight

amazing

Things have been as bad as they can be;

they really haven't, they can get far worse

When it struck him what he said, he was horrified at his thoughtlessness

first time for everything

Listen, as much as I'm glad that you've stopped being fucking idiots and hiding things from each other, now that Mina is mentally connected to Dracula, maybe it would have been better not to have her in the planning session

Now let me guard yourself. On your forehead I touch this piece of Sacred Wafer in the name of the Father, the Son, and——

HEY GENIUS, she has demon blood in her, what did you think would happen

To one thing I have made up my mind: if we find out that Mina must be a vampire in the end, then she shall not go into that unknown and terrible land alone.

I love Jonathan Harker a normal amount. I am completely normal about this. Excuse me while I sob grossly for unrelated reasons.

Taking from his box a piece of the Sacred Wafer he laid it reverently on the earth, and then shutting down the lid began to screw it home, we aiding him as he worked.

you just locked Jesus in a coffin.

I mean, He'd probably be cool with it, but still.

for we knew we had a strong and wily enemy to deal with

help now my stupid brain is imagining Wile E. Coyote as Dracula

Last night he was a frank, happy-looking man, with strong, youthful face, full of energy, and with dark brown hair. To-day he is a drawn, haggard old man, whose white hair matches well with the hollow burning eyes and grief-written lines of his face.

it has been years since I last read this book, and in my head I thought that Jonathan's hair had turned white after the experiences in Transylvania, like over a period of time, from stress. But no, it happened over night because he's such a devoted wife guy that Mina's sorrow damn near killed him

he was in life a most wonderful man. Soldier, statesman, and alchemist—which latter was the highest development of the science-knowledge of his time. He had a mighty brain, a learning beyond compare, and a heart that knew no fear and no remorse.

I am so normal about human Dracula, so very normal

Well, in him the brain powers survived the physical death; though it would seem that memory was not all complete.

so does this mean he's forgotten most/all of his human life? He's literally lost every connection to humanity, even in memory?

Now I'm sad

In some faculties of mind he has been, and is, only a child

that would explain the "throw wolves at the problem" mentality

"I fail to understand," said Harker wearily. "Oh, do be more plain to me! Perhaps grief and trouble are dulling my brain."

No, Jonathan, that's just what dealing with Van Helsing is like

Do we not see how at the first all these so great boxes were moved by others. He knew not then but that must be so. But all the time that so great child-brain of his was growing, and he began to consider whether he might not himself move the box.

it took Dracula four hundred years to figure out he can move things himself. I love him, he's so fucking stupid

Look out for D

why does this amuse me so

He seems to be going the round and may want to see you

Dracula, pounding furiously on the door: Leave my shit alone!

Harker evidently meant to try the matter, for he had ready his great Kukri knife and made a fierce and sudden cut at him.

God bless Jonathan Harker.

The next instant, with a sinuous dive he swept under Harker's arm, ere his blow could fall, and, grasping a handful of the money from the floor, dashed across the room, threw himself at the window.

this mental image is beautiful

We ran over and saw him spring unhurt from the ground.

Really, this is almost a Looney Tunes bit

"You think to baffle me, you—with your pale faces all in a row, like sheep in a butcher's. You shall be sorry yet, each one of you! You think you have left me without a place to rest; but I have more. My revenge is just begun! I spread it over centuries, and time is on my side. Your girls that you all love are mine already; and through them you and others shall yet be mine—my creatures, to do my bidding and to be my jackals when I want to feed. Bah!"

can we talk about how Bram Stoker wrote some of the most badass and iconic dialogue ever for Dracula here and then finished it with BAH!

wait I just realized when Dracula came in he must have seen Jonathan's now white hair and had a moment of confusion about it

That poor soul who has wrought all this misery is the saddest case of all. Just think what will be his joy when he, too, is destroyed in his worser part that his better part may have spiritual immortality. You must be pitiful to him, too, though it may not hold your hands from his destruction.

help I feel unauthorized emotion

I, too, may need such pity; and that some other like you—and with equal cause for anger—may deny it to me!

I need to lie down

Surely God will not permit the world to be the poorer by the loss of such a creature.

I AM COMPLETELY NORMAL

[kairiscorner]

hello po ate!! (　＾▽＾)

looking out the car window while it was raining made me think abt the request i'm making rn hehe

basically it's a miles x reader where they can't rlly see eachother that often these days bcs of the daily rain so they have to facecall or chat with eachother but one thing is that they're both touch starved for eachother atp (not in the weird way bcs ik some ppl think abt it the other way 😨) and it comes to a point where miles lit swings to reader's place to cuddle the second the news came out that the rain will stop for that day and they have a cuddle session ehehejdveje

(also !! plss take your time on this one cause i feel like ur alr starting school and i don't wanna be a bother 😕)

-sincerely, the 🧋 anon !!

HELLO 🧋 ANON 💖💖💖 wait that's super CUTE, also i got your follow-up message, ty for making it clearly luv (≧▽≦) OK I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS 💖

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

i can't wait any longer. – miles 1610 x reader

it's been a whole week, and you have yet to see your boyfriend face-to-face. it's been pouring rain ceaselessly all over the city, and the weather forecasts say it might not let up anytime soon. though, you and miles stay connected through facetiming and texting all day throughout the week you two have been away from each other, simply communicating doesn't bring the whole feelings you two experience when speaking to each other face-to-face and being around each others' presence.

as you were working at your desk on the homework your teacher assigned, you got a text notification from miles himself. the message was the same as always: him expressing how much he missed you, with the addition of sad, crying kaomojis that just made his longing for you a bit more impactful and... pitiful, in a way; it seriously made you want to drop everything, put on your nearest rain coat, not even bother to don on your pair of boots and just run over to him, even if you'd slip on the way or get sick afterwards. but you knew you couldn't do that, reality had always opposed your desires, especially those desires of yours that you sincerely wished for with all your heart; the universe was truly cruel to the sweetest of hearts.

you were confused as to why he suddenly seemed so hurried to text you, like his thumb was slipping from across the keyboard. before you could decode in your mind what he meant, you heard a light tapping by your bedroom window. you turned your head, and upside down, facing you with wide lenses for eyes, was spider man—your boyfriend, miles morales.

you tried to cover your shock from his sudden arrival, but it was harder to do as miles casually waved at you and pointed down at the lock of your window—gesturing for you to unlock it so he could come in. you knew miles was spider man long ago, and he already admitted it to you a few weeks prior; though he had never come to your place personally as spider man, so just seeing him clad in the black and red accented suit is just... a little jarring, surprising, and fun to you all at once.

"babe!" miles exclaimed as he climbed onto your windowsill and gazed at you. he was sopping wet from the constant rain, and your floors were soaking up the rain drops falling on him, but he didn't care if he was wet or dry, all he cared about right now was just being here with you. you spoke to him a mile a minute, pointing out how wet he was, offering to get him a towel—but you couldn't go anywhere else since miles grabbed your wrist gently and tugged a little on you, practically begging you not to leave him yet, not when he's finally here with you now.

he got off your windowsill and wrapped you in a wet, soaked up hug, murmuring how he missed the warmth of you against him. "i can't believe it's been a week... man, i can't another week without you, it'd be like going a whole week without food, water, or air." he muttered as he held you closer. he pulled away from you and took off his mask, and underneath it, you could see his hair all droopy now from the rain water he soaked up; but his charming, brilliant smile and shining eyes full of love and adoration for you persisted.

you told miles you missed him, it was wonderful seeing him again, but you had to get him a towel to dry him off. you went over to your closet and handed him a clean towel for him to dry himself off. miles got a little embarrassed and nodded. "oh, right, right... sorry, babe, i, um... got a little too excited." he said with a chuckle as he dried his hair. you turned around, not facing him as he dried the rest of himself off; luckily, the hoodie he lent you was still with you, dry and clean. he donned the hoodie on and wrung his suit out from your window, the rain droplets it absorbed rejoining the rain droplets falling down on the roofs and pavements, pattering against windows on buildings left and right.

you made miles a cup of hot cocoa and made one for yourself, too. his had little marshmallows and extra sugar, just the way he liked them. you snuggled up with him as you wrapped a blanket around you two by your shoulders, the two of you getting warmed up by each others' body heat and the fluster you were both experiencing right then and there being in each others' presence after so long. miles chuckled as he looked at the mini marshmallows in his drink. "you remembered how to make my favorite, huh?" he asked you as you blew on your hot cocoa and smiled. "how could i not remember?" you asked him as miles smiled wider and kept chuckling in glee as he sipped on the hot cocoa you made him, with you leaning your head against his shoulder as you two drank up, relishing this moment where you two are just sitting together in comfortable, loving silence—being in each other's company after so, so long; with your free hand on top of his, clutching the back of his hand as miles smiled wider to himself as you held him closely to you, almost as if you were wordlessly telling him, 'i'm glad you came... and i really, really missed you, too'.

tags @ii01vq @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3 @solecitoszn @toneystank-3000 @popeheywardssecretgf @onginlove @meowmoraless

[noroi1000]

Remember the fic in which you wrote about Gojo and reader fighting Sukuna, we got an ending for it because Gojo won the battle that means in that fic Gojo and reader defeated Sukuna

I have actually watched a movie where the husband was going to a war and the wife and him were talking near the bath tub when the wife pushed him and herself ( the husband was in uniform ) in the bath tub hugging him and crying. Can you write something like this , like reader and Gojo are going to Shibuya ( as a small part of The Tale of The Strongest Couple fic ) and reader does the same thing as the wife did in the movie ,to Gojo

The Story of the Strongest Couple - Tears of Shibuya

You looked at your husband's broad back as he, standing next to the bathtub that still had some water in it, slowly put on his uniform.

You were there with a sad look on your face as you watched his slow movements as he buttoned his pants and the top of his uniform. His bare feet standing solidly on the white tiled floor. White hair that, as always, shows you that this is your husband. That distinctive look of his. He is not an ordinary man. He really stood out in the crowd. So tall, so good looking. Your husband is not an ordinary person. He is much more important. Especially for you.

Fresh from the bath he was taking, you answered his phone and quickly broke the news to him that your evening together had to be canceled. Because something strange started happening in Shibuya.

Your husband was in just a towel, wanting to put on lingerie and have a nice evening with you. But immediately after his bath, you got some bad news.

You, in your underwear and his t-shirt, while waiting for him.

You had to look at his angry and slightly disappointed face as he pulled his sorcerer's uniform out of the closet and started putting it on after returning to the bathroom to finish drying his body.

The large towel fell to the floor as you watched his displeasure. The last time you saw him like this was when he saw your ex-boyfriend who broke your heart. He now hoped he was dead.

Now that he had you as his wife, he didn't have to worry about him losing you.

But you were still worried that you might lose him.

Shibuya made you cry…

Because it was after the mission in Shibuya when you were there with your boyfriend that you met him in your hotel room. And he threw you there, showing you his love for another woman.

Tears of Shibuya… As soon as you heard about your mission in Shibuya, your eyes were wet.

Every time you were in that city something terrible happened.

Before your eyes, a child was run over by a car during a road accident. Before your eyes, the curse ate the woman, tearing her apart. Playing with the unborn child that she pulled from her cut open belly. Then your heart was broken.

You were used to the horrible sights that were part of your work as a sorcerer. You knew exactly what it all looked like. But your greatest trauma about Shibuya is that your heart was torn to pieces in that city.

And five years passed before you could love someone again…

And the person you loved loved you for so long.

If your story had been written differently, you would have been happy from the beginning. You wouldn't suffer.

Your technique is writing Tales.

You need cards, and your damned technique can write to you what happened in a given place, or what is about to happen.

Every place has a memory. So you could check who put the curtain in that place.

You are so strong because your technique helps you know what is about to happen.

While your technique could easily describe everything that happened in the past, writing the future took a lot of time and energy. Why during fights she limited herself to one sentence that told you where the punch was coming from.

Your technique is the Narrator who knows everything about world events. Hence the name "story narrator".

You can't use it in your daily life, only on missions. But you also don't want to find out your entire future with Satoru in one day. You want your marriage to be full of surprises.

You could also check now whether it will end well. But you don't have the power to see the whole future. You only see the future in a given place. You have to be in Shibuya to know this.

But you do not want. Because whenever you're there, you're unlucky about what's going on.

At school you wore a small notebook on your wrist. Now the inscription may appear before your eyes as a glowing materialization of cursed energy. It appears for a split second and you have to read it before the blow comes.

That's why the sentences of your technique are very simple. The simplest sentences that can exist. Consisting of a few words.

You don't want to see a future that will show you that something bad will end for you because of Shibuya.

"How do you feel?" he asked as you stood there, lost in your thoughts.

You looked at him to see that he was slowly putting on the blindfold, looking at you with one blue orb.

You opened the door further to enter him and show yourself to him, he looked at your homely appearance with a small smile.

"… I'm okay." you said calmly as you slowly walked towards him and wrapped your arms around his waist, giving him a hug.

Did he constantly ask how you felt because of his desires? His thoughts about family with you?

"You don't have to go to Shibuya if you don't want to. I'll take care of everything and get back to you as soon as possible," he said, kissing the top of your head.

"I don't want you to go there alone…" you muttered. "But this is…Shibuya…"

"Shhh. Don't worry. It'll be fine. We just need to defeat some curses and some curse user."

"But– you…" you started crying into his chest, imagining what it would be like if he didn't come back to you because something happened.

He tightened his arms around you, giving you a warm hug.

Sorcerer fights are very dangerous. And you know this the most.

And you only ever want to see his smile.

Bracing yourself, you pushed him, causing you to fall into the tub that was behind him. You covered the back of his head with your hands to prevent him from hitting himself, but he still used his technique to gently lower you inside.

Holding your forehead against his chest, you cried at the knowledge that something bad might happen in Shibuya. As always. You don't want to lose him. You don't want to lose the life you have with him now. You are happy.

But anyway, you have to split up on the mission. He will be in a different position and so will you.

He said you don't have to go there. But you want to be with him.

"I don't want to lose you. I don't want something to happen that will change everything between us!"

"Baby, I promise. Nothing will happen. I will come back home after all. And we will spend the evening just like we had today! His voice clearly showed that he was smiling as he held you softly against him. Your cheek on his chest.

Lying on him, you felt his warmth with a small smile. Especially after hearing his enthusiasm.

You don't need your technique to know that your life together is happy. Your story is going on happily.

You will wait for your return home so that you can smile. So you can see the smile on his face.

[irondad-defensesquad]

Here comes the rain again, falling from the stars

Also posted on AO3!

TRIGGER WARNINGS - grief/mourning, past character death, and I guess a panic attack? But it's brief, I promise.

DO NOT SHIP PETER AND TONY. P/ROSHIP DNI.

--

“What are you doing? Singing in the rain?”

Peter smirks when his mentor sings the last words the way the song goes.

“It’s nice out here,” the former replies. The rain isn’t that scary storm, with thunder and lightning making his senses go wild.

“Yeah? You know what won’t be nice, though? The nasty cold you’re gonna catch if you stay out there any longer.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “The suit has the heater, remember?”

“You didn’t even turn it on, smart guy. Just get your butt in here, come on,” Tony urges.

The teen suppresses his groan, but he doesn’t protest any further.

Peter leaves the small balcony, finally turning on his suit’s heater, while Tony already dries his wet curls with a towel. After he’s dry enough, the man tells him to change into cozier clothes – or the ones he left on Peter’s bed.

Snoopy sweatpants, Iron Man socks, and the good ol’ MIT sweater.

Peter wants to be annoyed, but he just laughs internally at Tony’s ridiculous sense of fashion when it comes to teenagers.

Tony is sitting on the couch when Peter comes back, ready to wrap the latter up in a blanket.

“Mr. Stark, you’re exaggerating—”

“You were out there for two hours, kid.”

“I was fine—”

“You’re shaking like a popsicle.”

Peter groans, hating that he’s pretty much melting when Tony wraps an arm around him, pulling him closer.

“… You wanted me to rescue you, didn’t you,” the man observes, not surprised in the slightest.

“What? Pfft.”

“You could just call me instead of doing all that sad, wet abandoned puppy schtick.”

Peter shakes his head, but he can’t help but snuggle against Tony in return.

Funny that Tony isn’t actually mad at him.

“Seriously, kid. Tell me what’s up,” the mechanic sounds less snarky, much more concerned now.

Peter shrugs. He would’ve said “it’s nothing, really, everything is fine”, like he always does. But…

“… It calms me down, I guess. We’re far from the city, so the view from here is… different.”

“Good or bad?”

“I dunno. Just different.”

Tony hums. He still gazes at Peter attentively, while the boy looks at the rainy window.

I did this back then. I would hide in the fire escape stairs whenever I didn’t want to talk. Uncle Ben would come and find me on rainy days. He was never mad at me for doing that. He knew there was something up that I could never talk to anyone about.

He knows how immature it is to want someone to come, someone to save him. Peter hates remembering a lot of behaviors and things he said in the past. Which wasn’t all that long ago, really.

Why did he do this again?

This is what killed Uncle Ben. You fought him, you ran away. You wanted him to come to you. And he died because you were too selfish to—

“… Hey, hey…”

Peter doesn’t realize he’s tearing up when Tony hugs him with both arms to calm him down.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Peter says. It’s not actually meant for Tony, is it?

“It’s okay, buddy. It’s okay.”

It’s not. It’s not. It’s not.

“It’s okay.” Tony will repeat this as many times necessary.

It’s so unfair. Everything is so unfair. Peter doesn’t even deserve this. What if something happens to Tony? What if Peter fucks up again and—

“I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, but I’ve got you, bud. I’ve got you. Try to focus on me, okay?” The hero requests softly.

Peter tries to say something, but he chokes.

“It’s okay, let it out. You can cry, Pete. You can cry.”

And the teen does.

Peter sobs, sobs hard, like he hasn’t in years. He holds onto Tony like they’re in a life-or-death situation. Actually hugging Tony, actually allowing himself that, trying to fight his thoughts.

The rain is heavier than before.

Uncle Ben is not coming. He’s not coming. He’s never coming back—

But Tony is here. Tony is here.

He’s here.

It’s okay.

It’s okay…

…

The rain quiets down again.

Even then, Tony is there both for heavier and lighter moments.

Peter sniffs, laughing when Tony hands him some tissues. Have they been there the entire time? The man seems to be ready for anything.

“Th-Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Words that mean much more than what anyone might think.

The boy’s smile fades.

“Do you sometimes wish you could just… go back to the past when you have bad days?” He asks. “And maybe you could talk to that one person again? Maybe you could give them the hug you never had the chance to… Would they stay if you did that?” Peter tears up at the last words.

Tony is silent, not needing further details to understand. Nor to answer his question.

He only hugs Peter again.

The teenager doesn’t break down once more, only relaxes and quietly accepts the embrace.

After a while, Peter can only crave one thing…

“Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah?”

“… Can I have some hot cocoa?”

Tony snickers. “Yes, absolutely.” He squeezes Peter one last time before letting go. “You can pick any movie you want while I get it ready, okay?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Awesome.”

While Tony goes to the kitchen, Peter goes through the catalog. He supposes an animated movie would be cool…

“What did you pick?” The man returns with the warm mug, handing it to Peter. “Oh, I already love it.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

Uncle Ben loved The Iron Giant, too. But Tony definitely loves it for the giant Iron Man. And Peter absolutely teases Tony that he looks like Dean when the character shows up.

It’s a bit melancholic watching this film now… but it’s nice.

Different, but nice.

[rodolfoparras]

Prepare for my goofy little essay about Soap

I definitely believe Soap likes to be treated like a dog and acts like one. Not like puppy play, but affectionately. He’s laying his head in your lap? He’s has your hand in his as he gnaws on your fingers. You’re having a drink with the rest of the 141? He bites your shoulder when he’s bored of the conversation. It gets to the point where some of the guys start to call Soap, your “puppy”, even though you two aren’t together, but both of you grow into it cause, are they really wrong? You’ve definitely walked in on Soap and Gaz looking over some plans for another prank on Ghost and had to ask Soap, “What do you have?” as he tries to hide it behind his back. I can also absolutely imagine Soap, completely silent, walking into the common area where you and the others are hanging out and just sitting on the floor either between your legs or next to them to rest his head, and you just instinctively put your hand in his hair and pet him.

This all cumulates when after Soap gets into a fight with another member, maybe they were bad talking about you. These two are throwing blows when you walk in and you finally break it up by basically scruffing Soap. You tell off the other guy and are dragging Soap back to your room to clean him up. You aren’t really watching him since you’re trying to get him to a safer place, but Soap’s face is as red as the blood dripping from his nose. Once you get to your room, you sit him on the toilet and start to clean his wounds for him. He’s all nervous and hardly speaking despite you asking him all these questions about why he did this. He says they were running their mouth, so he shut it for them. You chuckle at his need to protect you and your honor and jokingly call him your “guard dog”, but this man flushes to red again. You take a little further and call him your “good boy” while lightly scratching his head. This man absolutely melts at your words and his pants probably grow a little tighter.

All of this probably leads to you and Soap becoming each other’s comforter after missions. Sometimes he needs to grounded, so he just sits near you as you absentmindedly pet his hair until he feels good enough to shower. Usually you feel good enough to clean yourself up after missions but shut down after, so Soap will just lay on top of you like a human weighted blanket.

Sorry about the word vomit of homosexuality. The Soap brainrot is real as of recent. I showed my friend a picture of Neil Ellice and he said, “he looks like a sad dog” and my immediate thought was, “he’s a sad wet dog, and I have soft dry towel”

-🤠

LISTEN I LOVED THIS bc I talked about this with someone how soap is basically a puppy and hear me out you the new sergeant joining the squad and taking a liking to soap but it’s clear he’s got the hots for the lieutenant and really it’s more out of pettiness than anything else that you whisper good boy under your breath when he follows ghosts order without question, saying he’s loyal like a dog when soap is just standing there even barking in his face when you get into a fight

It all ends up with you pushed against the wall, with him fisting your shirt and holding a hand against your throat and maybe it had been one too many drinks post mission adrenaline or sexual frustration that has him smashing his lips onto yours

And before you know of it you’re stumbling into your room clothes are scattered to the floor and he’s riding you while you’re saying the words “come on show me how much of a good boy you can be” and although he almost spit in your face the words “go fuck yourself” being said through gritted teeth he begins to ride you more vigorously

[hotxcheeto]

How do you feel about a fluffy Abby x reader where Abby is stressed to heck and back and reader soft doms her in order to help her relax and unwind. I'd prefer it sfw as I'm not super comfortable with smut (I know, kinda odd, given the soft dom aspect) if that's all good.

━ 𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Abby Anderson x G/N!Reader 

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Like one curse word, mentions of abby going through it lol, mentions of wounds? ( brief )

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - so sorry this took so long!!! ily!! also enjoying the new blog looks :)))

You'd gotten home late, but not as late as she had.

Standing in front of the shared bathrooms' mirror, you dried face off after washing it, the hot water from the shower continuing to steam up the bathroom. But the door had been left ajar, giving you fresh air as you turned to hang the towel back up.

"Fuck I forgot my clothes." You heard her mutter, quietly talking into the air as if you weren't there. "I already got your clothes for you babe. Next to the sink, like always."

You heard her mumble a quiet 'thank you' as you walked out, moving to go sit on the bed while you waited for her to be done.

Though, despite the very short conversation, and the sad and strained undertone in her voice, you were grateful. Grateful that for the past week, she'd made it home alive, unscathed besides a few wounds you'd patch up for her.

Silently, of course, because lately it seemed as if she could barely catch a moment of silence.

Nonstop. Working. Fighting. Mission after mission.

You loved your girlfriend, you did, but sometimes you wanted to beat her over the head with a bat and ask her to just take a break.

And finally, she is. A few days, in fact, unless of course that stupid man wants her back out there for an 'emergency only she can handle'.

He, quite frankly, could get bit, and you wouldn't bat an eye.

"Hey." You broke yourself from your thoughts, turning your head to face her, a smile finding its way onto your lips. "Hey there, what can I do for you?"

As if your voice was magic, her shoulders dropped and the thin line on her face turned upwards. The bed sinking as she began to crawl lean towards you.

"How was your day?" You then asked, Abby moving to lay her entire body over yours and lay her head on your stomach, smiling at your laughter.

"You tired?" She hummed, letting out a quiet noise when you ran your hands through her wet hair, scratching at her scalp. Not minding how wet your shirt got because of her hair, you were just glad she was here.

"I missed you today." You then said, looking forward as she huffed. "Let me guess, Isaac made you leave as early as humanly possible?"

You felt her silently laugh, glancing up at you as she finally spoke.

"Yeah, but he also said that I need to get more sleep so I can be 'on top of my game' whatever the hell that means." You snorted, looking up at the ceiling, rubbing your sore eyes. "What an idiot." You groaned.

"You've been working all week, m'just glad you're finally off."

"Yeah but I still have to do that run for him in a few days, and he wants me to take a group and run it and–"

You tapped her lips, making her eyes flicker towards you once more.

"You're off." You whispered. "How about we forget about Isaac in all his dumbassary and instead, we relax." She opened her mouth but you shook your head making her grumble.

"Sit up, let me braid your hair." "Why?" Abby ran her hand over her face, muttering a few quiet complaints. "Because we both know you'll complain about 'how your hair dried; and that 'it's knotted' as soon as you wake up."

Abby, with dramatic eye roll, sat up and turned around, showing you the back of her head.

"Thank you." You hummed, a soft smile on your lips as your brushed her hair back with your nails. "Yeah, yeah." "Mm, don't start with that. When I'm done, you're sleeping, understand?"

"But what about the stupid report, Isaac said to give it to him in the morn–" "The morning ends at eleven fifty-nine. He doesn't need the report at eight o'clock on the dot Abs." She huffed once more, leaning back towards your hands as you began the braid.

"Fine. What about Nora? She said she could use my help tomorrow, and since I have the day off–"

"Abigail, you are staying in this damn room the entire day tomorrow even if I have to chain you to the bedpost."

You tied the braid, setting your hands on her shoulders as you leaned over to kiss her cheek.

"You're relaxing, that's final." Your voice had quieted, leaning against her shoulder while taking in her smell. Closing your eyes in content.

"You help everyone, always. Tomorrow, me and you, that's it. I make myself clear, babe?"

"Yeah. Thank you." Abby leaned her head towards you, asking silently for another kiss to her cheek, which you gave her. Then kissing her forehead.

"Lay down. Bedtime."

Abby complied moving to lay beside you, facing your frame while you turned back to turn the lamp off. Rolling over to face her, pulling her body towards your own.

"I love you, cuddlebug." You felt her smile against you at the use of her despised nickname, yet she was too tired to fight it.

"Love you more babe."

[rath00ker]

The world is ending Rath00ker writes a fanfic (not clickbait)

Fellow x Reader

Idk he shaves your legs for you. I’m writing this cause I just shaved my legs and my marriage with Floyd has now ended Fellow is my new husband. Reader is GN but probably more Masc aligned. Fellow might be written out of character idk the event isn’t out on eng servers and we’re still boycotting Disney. Also Reader isn’t Yuu they are a performer at Playfulland.

Why did he insist on doing this?

You could only stare down at Fellow as he kneeled in front of you holding your ankle as he shaved your leg for you. You had forgotten how this all started. You had to shave your legs for certain performance outfits, ones that showed off your legs and as the ‘kind’ ‘honest’ and ‘helpful’ man he claimed to be he insisted on doing it for you. Sitting on a black stool as Fellow kneeled in front of you carefully shaving your leg with a straight razor. He’s never nicked or accidentally cut you before so you continued to let him do what made him so clearly happy.

Fellow hummed as he wiped the razor cleaning the hair and shaving cream off the blade with a towel he had next to him. He had taken off his hat and navy blue coat along with his gloves. You simply sat with your chin held in your hand and watched as he continued to work. “My Dear why do you seem so bored today?” He asked stopping for a moment before looking up at you. “Boring day.” You answered simply

“How sad, has the life of a performer bored you? I can’t imagine how it has, traveling around seeing new faces making new dolls.” Fellow said with a hum as he continued to his work of shaving your leg. “You meet so many people you’ve met them all.” You replied bluntly. “Oh don’t be so sour, least we have you too bored to perform anymore” Fellow said only to be met with your bluntness again. “I’m an actor. I can be as bored as I can ever imagine and still put on a good show. Are you doubting me Honest.” You asked as he cleaned off your leg having finished with that one

Fellow only hummed a small grin on his face as he cleaned off your leg with a wet towel. He kept two towels with him when he shaved your legs, one in a bucket of warm water and one dry for cleaning off the razor. After he finished he’d get a third towel to dry off your legs. He let go of the ankle to your right leg and held out his hand which you put your left ankle into so he could start work on your left leg. “Oh I’d never doubt you~” He said with a grin as he applied shaving cream to your left leg. “Why would I doubt my favorite performer? It just aches my heart to see you so bored” he said with a dramatic tone. “Wow and how many other performers have you told that too?” You asked only for Fellow to chuckled

“I’m starting to believe I’m just your favorite pair of legs Fellow.” You said as he shaved your left leg. “Oh you wound me so” he said as he continued to kneel in front of you holding your ankle gently. Oh you were definitely his favorite

[juno-of-wonderland]

Monster au: Lord of Thorns route ending 2 (part 2)

You opened your eyes, a light wooden ceiling welcomed you willingly, you stretched your arm and took a wet towel from your forehead. “Nah, nah, you have a fever and I just changed this” a short man arrived at your side, his big smile showing his fangs prominently “I'm Lilia, dad or something like that from the boys” he placed his hand on his chest proudly. “Boys?” You whispered “The first one you ever met on the roof and” he gently took the towel from your hand and placed it in a bowl next to the bed “the others saved you from the hunters” he folded it and placed it on your forehead “Silver and Sebek” “Oh, thank you” you offered him a weak smile to which he responded with a gentle smile. “Get better quickly, he left you a letter, but he said I could only deliver it when you got better” Lilia said “…letter?…Did Tetsunotaro leave me a letter?” The room exploded in noise with Lilia's loud laughter, the vampire even held his stomach and wiped away tears from laughing so hard, this surprised you. “That- that’s the nickname you gave him? Didn’t he give you his name?” Lilia asked amusedly. “No…I heard the hunter calling it Draconia, but…that sounds like a surname” Lilia nodded. The days passed, Lilia took care of you, even after the fever disappeared, you remained in his cabin, sometimes Silver and Sebek came, Silver to check on you and Sebek on behalf of Waka-sama. When you felt ready to read the letter Lilia gave you, you held the envelope carefully, staring at the elaborate seal before opening it.

Dear (y/n),

I hope this letter finds you well. I would like to express my deep sadness over the recent incident in which you were injured. I was very concerned to hear what happened and I want you to know that I am sorry for any pain or discomfort you may have experienced.

Reflecting on the incident, I realize that I could have taken additional steps to ensure your safety and well-being, and for that I want to sincerely apologize. It is important to me that you know that your health and safety are my priorities, and I will do everything I can to prevent something like this from happening again in the future.

Furthermore, I would like to take this opportunity to express a wish that I have been considering for some time. I have reflected on our friendship and the mutual support we have shared over the years, and I realize how meaningful your presence is to me. I was wondering if you would consider the possibility of us sharing a living space. I believe this would not only strengthen our friendship, but also allow us to create precious memories together and offer each other support in our daily lives.

I understand that this is an important decision and that it may take time to fully consider it. Please know that I will respect whatever choice you make and that our friendship is what I value most, regardless of the circumstances.

Once again, I apologize for what happened and I hope we can find a solution that is satisfactory to both of us. I am available to discuss any aspect of this letter or to discuss any other questions you may have.

Best regards,

Tetsunotaro

What scared you most on this occasion? The ease of your mental yes. The three escorted you to the thorn forest, the darkened sky and fog gave you chills. At a certain moment, the immense ancient and dark castle stretched to the sky and in front of it its owner, he hugged you, you felt his fear of hurting you and at the same time the need for it, and you also heard complaints from Sebek. “When you are in danger, just say my name and I will save you” Tetsunotaro whispered in your ear. “I don’t know your name” “Malleus, Malleus Draconia”