#hand held shower hose

[scrapxrat]

3/4 Bath in Orange County Bathroom - small contemporary 3/4 beige tile and ceramic tile pebble tile floor bathroom idea with flat-panel cabinets, light wood cabinets, a wall-mount toilet, white walls, a vessel sink and quartz countertops

[michelepoehler]

San Francisco Kids

Small trendy kids' gray tile and ceramic tile porcelain tile and gray floor bathroom photo with flat-panel cabinets, a two-piece toilet, gray walls, an undermount sink, white cabinets and granite countertops

[devynmccart]

Bathroom - Modern Bathroom Large minimalist master gray tile and porcelain tile porcelain tile and gray floor bathroom photo with flat-panel cabinets, gray cabinets, a one-piece toilet, blue walls, an undermount sink, quartz countertops and a hinged shower door

[luveline]

i saw your ask for marauders requests so could i pls request some soft giggly and maybe mildly suggestive remus pls ?? i am foaming at the mouth for remus recently

cw suggestive content mdni

A knock on the door. “You okay?” 

“Stop.” 

“I’m just asking if you’re okay.” 

“I’m drowning. Come in and save me.” You sink further into the tub, water climbing your arms and warming your tummy. “Is that what you want me to say?” 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to saving you.” 

You’re washed, you’re done, you’d just wanted to spend some time soaking in the warm bath to alleviate the pinched nerves between your shoulders. It would be nice if Remus were to sit in here with you, but from the sounds of his voice and his perseverance he’s going to want to do more with you, and you’d say yes. It isn’t a problem of wanting him, it’s just —you just got clean again. 

“You can come in if you keep your hands to yourself.” 

“Deal,” he says. 

You cover your dignity with a crossed leg and arm as the door opens. Remus smiles at you, all love, not one to ignore your wants. If you don’t want to be seduced, he won’t do it, but you can’t ignore the long drag of his eyes down your thigh. 

“Hi,” he says. “Beautiful. Can I wash your hair?” 

“I wish you’d offered before, I’ve already done it.” 

He has no qualms kneeling by your side to touch your wet face. You wish there was room for both of you., and he’s on the same wavelength. “When we’re rich, we’ll have a big freestanding tub.” He strokes your cheek, voice softening, “We’ll sit end to end so I can see your face.” 

“How about one of those rainfall showers?” you ask, shifting, the water sloshing around your shoulders and down your chest. 

“Yeah.” He laughs. “Yeah, any shower you want. Multiple heads, we can get hosed down.” 

You laugh. It’s remarkable to get to lay there and have him think you’re only beautiful, unposed, the water cooling. He squeezes your cheek with his thumb before brushing over your mouth. 

“Will you be getting out any time soon?” he asks. 

More laughing, “No, I don’t think so. This is making my back feel better.” 

“I can do that.” His hand falls into the water, behind your shoulder, searching for a muscle to soothe. 

Aware that you’re naked and he’s touching you, you laugh, still nervous after more than enough time being in love to think it might ebb. He’s very pretty, and he touches you like you’re precious, sometimes, but more often it’s that he knows every part of you and what you like. He knows how you like your shoulder scrunched, your face held, your hip rubbed in the night under the quilt. 

Remus finds the tensed nerve between your shoulder blades and mumbles sympathetically. “Ouch.” 

“It’s okay,” you say. 

“What’s the matter, anyways?” he asks in a murmur. “You look tired. Are you tired?” 

“A lot.” 

“Yeah?” He lifts up on his knees and leans down to kiss you, softly but wonkily. 

“I need to go to bed.” 

“I’ll carry you, lovely, is that what you want?” 

“You’ll drop me. I’m like a fish.” 

“You’re nothing like a fish,” Remus says. “Want me to get you a warm towel?” 

“Will you?” 

“I put one on the radiator when I heard you getting in.” 

You sit up, bared, water racing down your back and your stomach, not a wisp of steam from the water. “That’s really kind,” you say, though you’d meant to think it. “I love you.” 

I love you in place of ‘thank you’ is commonplace with Remus. 

“I love you, too,” he says, instead of ‘you’re welcome’. 

He gets your towel, and he holds it out. You step into it and let him wrap it around you tightly, let him tuck it into itself near your armpit, before his arms wrap across your front. You tip your head back. If Remus cared about getting wet, he wouldn’t have initiated the hug to begin with. 

Remus doesn’t say anything, just holds you. Water pools at your feet. 

“Love you.” He kisses your ear. “So much. Now you smell amazing.” 

“You’re welcome to use all of it. ‘Cept my hair smoothie.” 

“Not sharing?” 

“Only a little bit left.” 

He’s practically whispering, his breath tickling your neck, to your quiet giggling, “Just tell me what it is and I’ll buy you a new one.” 

“So you can use what’s left?” 

His nose at your shoulder. “You smell so nice.” 

You go lax in his arms. Maybe… maybe you’re not so tired. He’s always gentle. “You think so?” you ask shyly. 

He hears what you’re not saying, his hand resting on your stomach. “Sorry, I’m not keeping my hands to myself. I’m not… I’m just holding you.” 

“Maybe we can break our deal.” 

“Oh?” he asks. 

“I don’t know. Do you want to?” 

“It’s not about me, dovey.” 

“It sort of is.” You turn your head to ask for a kiss without talking. “S’about both of us,” you whisper. 

“You want me to break our deal, is that what you want?” 

You shift in his hold to curl an arm behind his neck. He kisses you soundly, his hands holding your towel in place, always a gentleman even when he’s pressing at the seam of your lips with his, kissing you deeper. 

“You’ll have to clean me up when we’re done,” you say under your breath, eyes closed and nose tucked against his cheek.

“Is that the new deal?”

“Mm-hm.” 

“Okay, dove. Deal. Easy deal. I feel like I’m getting much more from this than you are.” 

You laugh in a huff at his subtle flirting. “Then make it fair,” you goad. 

“I will.” His tone lowers. “I promise.” 

His hold on your towel is much less careful after that.

[bullet-prooflove]

The Train Station: Rip Wheeler x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @readmetosleep @kierawashere01 @hangmanscoming @goldensunshine91

Companion piece to:

The Vet - Rip comes face to face with a nightmare.

Broken - Travis recieves a phone call from Rip regarding you and Malcom Beck.

You’re leaning against the hood of the truck, the headlights silhouetting your form when Rip returns from rolling both of the Beck’s bodies into the canyon. Despite all the illegal shit the two of you have done together over the past few hours apparently disposal of a body is where he draws the line. It doesn’t matter that you shot Teal Beck in the head after he laughed about the state his brother had left Gina in or that you watched him take Malcolm Beck apart piece by piece. When it comes to getting rid of a corpse Rip Wheeler is practically a gentlemen.

“You doing ok?” He asks as he takes up residence alongside of you, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “You’ve seen a lot of heavy shit tonight.”

“I’ve seen worse, done worse.” You say quietly, nudging his shoulder. “What about you, you doing ok?”

The fact you are even asking is a testament to your strength and character. Most women would have run for the hills by now but you’re still here, asking after his wellbeing despite the fact you have blood and brain matter splattered across your clothing.

He’s always held a part of himself back from you because he’s never wanted the darkness that resides deep down in his soul to taint what the two of you have. It’s only now that he’s realising there’s a little darkness in you too.

You hadn’t hesitated when you pulled the trigger on Teal Beck, you hadn’t flinched when he pressed the Glock against each of Malcolm Beck’s joints and blown a hole in every single one of them. You’d helped him roll up the bodies in tarp, hose down the inside of the stable, you’d even tried scrubbing the blood out of the floor in the cottage but there are somethings a stain like that just won’t come out of.

It's when you get back to the foreman’s house that he starts the burn barrel. He keeps it around the back in the yard for when he needs to get rid of shit. The train station may supply a certain amount of discretion but Rip isn’t taking any chances, not when it comes to you.

“Take your clothes off.” He orders when the fire is hot enough and you strip down to your underwear under his unrelenting gaze. “Panties and bra too honey. All of it’s got to go.”

You toss the bundle of clothes into the flames and the smoke plumes into the air with a shower of sparks. You look gorgeous in the warm glow, the scars from your time abroad, highlighted on your skin as you raise your eyes to meet his and whisper the words.

“Your turn.”

Everything goes in the barrel save for his hat and boots. He sets them on the wooden lawn chair instead. His gaze is still locked on yours as when approaches you, his fingertips brush stray strand of hair back behind your ear.

“Do you like what you see?” His asks you, his voice raw as he looks into your eyes.

You know what he’s asking, do you love me, the real me?

The one that was forged in blood, who’ll probably die the same way.

“I do.” You whisper as you raise up on tiptoes and kiss his mouth. “God help me Rip but  do.”

Love Rip? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[thesassypadawan]

Make Them Blue (Burnt Vader x PetReader) *Blurb*

Summary:  It was No Nut November and your master, who never backs down, took on the challenge…by submersing himself in his bacta tank for the whole month.  However the time has gone and passed, and now he seeks you out…to help him empty his aching, burgeoning sack.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all of the lovely smut. Blowjob, some manhandling, lots of jizzing, overgrown balls, suitless/bacta covered dark daddy, mention of cumflation…and Vader’s big, scarred dick.

Notes: Happy No Nut November all you, lovelies! 🤍💙

Goes with Make Them Blue (Unburnt Vader x ApprenticeReader)!

- “On your knees…”  The command was simple, straightforward.  And although Vader’s voice is muffled slightly by the breathing mask, it leaves no room for argument.  Not that you would dare nor want to do so.

- “Ye-yes, my lord…”  Without hesitating you drop to your knees before him.  Hungry gaze glued to his hard, leaking length…to his bulging, burgeoning sack.  Hands trembling, folded in your lap.  Thighs subtly squeezing, rubbing together.  “How can I-I serve you…”

- Golden eyes widen, then narrow.  “Worship me…”  Cold, dark laughter rumbles within his chest.  “Show how much you have missed…”  Robotic fingers cups, pinch your chin hard in their durasteel grip.  “Craved my cum…”

- Leaning back on his throne.  Head tilted, resting on his fist.  Vader utters his next undeniable, unquestionable order.  “Now get to it, pet…”

- Happily you obey.  Lips pressing, showering his shaft in needy…desperate kisses.  Sucking on the veins that snake, spiral around it.  Greedily, hard enough to make them grow more prominent…turn a lovely shade of purple, a stark contrast compared to his pale skin.

- “Good girl…”  His words come out in a low, euphoric hiss.  A small praise that sends a thrill down your spine, straight to your aching core.  Puddle beginning to form and pool beneath your quivering body.  “What a good little whore…” 

- Doubling your efforts, you’re more than eager to please him.  Tongue kitten licking, lavishing, and moisturizing the scared skin in your saliva.  Cooing, practically purring as you lap up the stray salty, sweet…bitter, medicinal beads.  Tiny hands kneading, fondling his overly swollen, slick balls.  Humming at the warmth that radiates from them.

- “But I know you can do better…”  Invisible digits lace through, tangle in your hair.  Tugging you roughly forward, guiding your mouth to his drooling tip.  Rutting it lazily against, painting your face in a shimmering layer of his essence  “Can you not…”

- Parting your lips to reply, immediately you’re silenced by his head shoving between them.  Strangled, subdued squeaks slipping past his fat cock.  While you struggle, try frantically to take in as much of him as you can.

- “That’s right, let me hear all those pretty noises…”  Thrusting, rolling his hips.  Feral, almost animalistic groan spills out from behind his mask.  “The ones that only I can draw out of…”  When he drives himself deeper, further into your warmth.  Until your nose is flush with his chiseled abdomen, ports prodding and scratching at your forehead.  “Force you to make…”

- Tears sting at your waterline, roll down your cheeks.  Sack slaps heavily at your chin, sound of cum sloshing rings in yours ears.  Can feel him throbbing, twitching against the velvety walls of your throat.  Stomach bloating slightly from the pre that fills it.

- It’s all too much…oh so blissfully much.  You know he’s only moments away from bursting, from transforming you into his own personal cum ballon.  However…

- Abruptly he yanks you off.  Phantom presence pushes you backwards, pries and holds your jaw open.  Keeping you held in place, watching your master, your god pump his dick vigorously.  Twisted, maniacal look shining in his yellow orbs. 

- Letting out guttural moan, he spews forth like a hose.  Thick, milky globs douse and soaking you.  Slopping, washing over in heavy streams…more than what his whole platoon of his men could produce.  Valiantly you try to swallow what you can, nearly choking on the sheer volume.  The remainder drenching, covering you entirely.

- And once he has finally drained, emptied his balls.  Vader relaxes on his throne once more, mechno legs spread wide.  Staring upon, taking in the sight of your cum-soaked form.  Of your juices seeping out from under you, mingling with his own.  A mere drop compared to what is easily the small pound’s worth that now surrounds you.

- “Well done…  However, I advise that you do not challenge me again…  Less you rather drown or, perhaps, pop next time…”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @loverforoldermen, @anakinsbbgirl, @t03soup, , @vaderswifey, @jediavengers, @anakinstwinklebunny, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @xhunnybeeex

@littlelamy, @khoatic-with-no-energy, @raiwpenl, @malinadbbdh, @strokingforyou26, @xspacexwitchx, @em-21, @hearts4sammonroe, @shouldbetakencareof2, @loxbbg, @supersoldatbarnesstuff, @thesilentreaderrrrr, @theoriginalsinner28, @dumb-slut-things, @indigoblues1207, @ald6518, @julxstrawberry, @wh0sl0ttie, @tojis-missing-arm, @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo, @theladykassia, @doblasftcisco, @morguexmvp, @f4iryjinsworld, @nyxiesstuff, @heymamasblog, @justsomeimbicel, @prettywhenicry-777, @femme-is-typing, @maddis0n4, @ttdrake, @melmurkun, @brattyyybbg, @zara13ts, @bigaoibhe2024, @neocitywhore, @ter-luer, @ladyanaschmidt, @sarahflores07,  @death934, @dovepevensie, @adorebambie, @pookiswookis, @icecoldhearts, @elliemariscal, @allievalll, @moonlxght-tyler, @1-racha, @tosterwwannie, @inejghafawifesblog, @carlgrimeswifeofficial, @hellemo666, @pitas-star, @sapphirefrog-blog, @carlgrimeseyepatch, @melonmochi, @coldcupcakedinosaur, @juli007, @skyguy8108, @frogtowne, @jennasco, @nothinspecial1000, @burnthispls666, @dovepevensie, @xxxxxxctu, @abobiwan-kenobi, @kpopperotp12, @no-yes-maybe-so, @whoisgiinaa, @sflame15-blog

[quirrrky]

—03. LEAVE ME LOVING YOU

『MASTERLIST』 PREV • NXT »

SAMU disguised himself as his brother to save you from embarrassment, but what should be just for a day ended up in more. How long could he keep hiding behind his brother's shadow?

secret admirer, unrequited love? timeskip, mini-series

baby, there's no drug quite like denial

The whistle blared through the gymnasium. It’s Inarizaki’s last game with the neighboring school for the present school year. The third years’ focus was on the game because it would be the last game they’d be playing for the rest of their high school life, but Samu had his mind elsewhere. 

You encountered him and Tsumu together the other day, yet you just played it cool. Your eyes were filled with astonishment and confusion but then you smiled through it saying, “Oh, there’s two Miya-san now.” You excused yourself afterwards and left everything hanging in the air. Earlier during lunch time, you still hung out with him on the rooftop. It was like nothing happened. 

The ball approached his way and he’s quick to toss it right back. The crowd cheered yet Samu didn’t care much less notice. His attention involuntarily shifted to you among the sea of people in the bleachers, and you looked back at him, smiling at a distance. Shyly, he averted his gaze in a snap.  

Have you found out that he’s just disguising as Tsumu all along or do you still think that he’s his twin? 

“Geez, bro. What’re ya bein’ shy for? It’s our last days in school.” Tsumu teased—a big grin was on his face as he saw the ball comin’ for him. “If ya already have the chance...” He leaped and passed the ball directly to his brother. “Ya, better take it!”  

Samu slammed the ball with precise strength and it landed straight on the opponent’s court, earning them their winning point before the time ended.   

Their schoolmates cheered while Tsumu screamed, claiming their final win in Inarizaki.  

ೀ ‧ ˚ 🍙 ⊹˚. ♡

It’s early in the morning when you headed to the pool. You were the one assigned in your class to clean up as part of your graduation turnover. They said a representative from Class 1 would also be there to help you and you were welcomed with a familiar figure. 

“M-Miya-san?” Your eyes were wide with surprise. He looked right in your direction. “Oh, sorry. I just...I just don’t know which Miya-san it is right now though.” 

Seeing you looking at him like that made him a little flustered. Rubbing the back of his neck, he informed you, “Samu...it’s Samu.” 

A prim smile spread across your face. “Samu...” 

It was as if time stopped while his heart drummed against his ear when he finally heard his name from your lips. 

“What do we have here?’ you asked, shifting your weight on your feet back and forth.  

“I’m almost done. We just have to rinse the soap,” he pointed to the pool’s surface, while prepping up the water hose. “I got this. Ya can go ahead.” 

“No, I’ll help you,” you took the water hose from him, your hand slightly touching his. He was feeling extra nervous now that he’s being just himself, but he didn't want to be anyone else around you. “Let’s do this together.”  

He turned the faucet on, and the water instantly blasted on you. “Y/N!” Samu immediately twisted it off. You were doused from head to toe. Both looking at each other, you turned the faucet on again, now completely soaking him too in retaliation.  

You both burst into laughter until Samu tried snatching the hose from you, but you’re never letting him get his way. You ran around the side of the pool, attempting to steal the water hose from each other which drenched the both of you even more instead. 

Your little moment of fun was interrupted by the roaring thunder. Sharing a glance, you both chortled until the skies showered. With the hose in one hand, Samu held yours in another as you ran through the rain towards the changing area. His grip on your hand was firm, careful not to let you slip.  

Finally getting under a shaded area, you picked up on your breathing. Remembering that you still had your phone in your pocket, you took it out and flipped it open. It’s dead.  

Samu snickered. Uncannily, his laughter sounded so soft and comforting in your ear. His eyes rested on your bewildered gaze, holding it for a while. His expression was filled with tenderness you couldn’t fathom but it made you happy. His Adam's apple bobbed as his eyes turned a little half-lidded. He was inching close to you, and you felt your toes tipping towards him. You could almost feel his breath with how near he was. Your eyelids were triggering to close, until a sneeze came through you.  

“Are ya alright? Do ya have a spare shirt?” 

The coldness of the rain got you shivering. With your arms around your frame, easing the freeze out, you shook your head dismissively.  

“Hold on,” Samu quickly went inside the boys’ changing room and came out with a spare shirt. You looked at him querulously. “I have extra. Go ahead, change. I’ll take it from here,” he reassured, and you heeded his advice, taking the black shirt from his hand.  

The rain soon subsided, and you emerged from the girls’ changing room wearing his Inarizaki jersey. You turned to him with a beautiful smile, and at that moment, he realized that you probably had the power to stop time, his lungs and his heart all at the same time. 

Samu gulped, dryly.  

It was a little big on you, but you looked in it. His number printed on it made it seem like you were made to carry every bit of him. It was made for you. He was made for you. He shook the thought away, or at least, he tried.  

“Thank you, Miya-san.” You tapped your head as if you committed a mistake. “S-Samu! Samu!” You blushed. What’s with his name that was making you so anxious and fidgety? “M-Miya S-Samu-san-" You sneezed and he lightly chuckled.  

“Y/N!” A classmate called out to you. “It’s time for our next class already.” 

“Oh!” you hastily bowed before him, a little nervous to show your face, scared that you’d embarrass yourself even more.” 

Samu watched as you left.  

If you already have the chance, you better take it. Tsumu’s words echoed through him.  

Eventhough you were calling him by his name just now, he still couldn’t differentiate where Miya-san ends and where does Samu begin. 

ೀ ‧ ˚ 🍙 ⊹˚. ♡

With a bento in tow, Samu quietly entered the clinic. He asked for the nurse on duty who happily assisted him towards the infirmary. 

He slid open the curtain covering the bed where you were resting. You’re sleeping so soundly but your expression gave away how feverish you were.  

He was supposed to tell you everything clearly, but when he went to the rooftop, there was not a single trace of you there. He stopped by your classroom and one of your classmates informed him that you went to the clinic. 

Seated on the stool beside you, he took out the bento he prepared for your lunch, just as usual, and left it atop the bedside table.  

You looked so peaceful, and cozy all tucked in the blanket. He could watch you like this for hours and hours long. His hand reached out for your face. You felt hot to the touch due to being drenched by the poolside a while ago.  

Warmth fluttered inside his chest as he studied your features. His finger ran through your lashes and skimmed through your fluffy cheek, thumb tracing your lower lip.  

Samu kept fighting the feelings arising deep within him. He convinced himself that this would be nothing more, but here he was unable to stop the back of his hand from stroking your soft cheeks lovingly. He thought it was gonna be just for a day yet he always chose to be beside you. He told himself that he’s alright with remaining behind his brother's shadow if it meant extending the time he had with you.  

A scoff escaped from him. How foolish. 

The school bell rang, signifying the end of the lunch period and prompting Samu to stand from his seat. However, you held his hand, stopping him on his tracks and not letting him go just yet. 

“M-Miya-san...” you murmured.  

Samu was tempted to stay, but his reflection in the nearby mirror was eating him up. His stomach twisted, unsatisfyingly. He’s wearing the shirt his twin lent him and while they wore the same size, Tsumu’s number imprinted on the jersey he’s wearing punched a cruel reminder. 

If you already have the chance, you better take it. 

Would you still accept who’s beneath his facade? Would you see past his mask?   

ೀ ‧ ˚ 🍙 ⊹˚. ♡

Atsumu stretched his arms. His action was paired with a satisfying yawn. “At last, no more wakin’ up early in the mornin’.” He turned to his brother whose mind seemed to be elsewhere. “Hey, hey...don’tcha worry now, ya can still dance with yer girl. We’ll get back in time for the graduation dance.” 

“What?” Samu finally snapped from his musings. 

“Hey! Don’t tell me ya forgot! Ya promised to go with me to the sports camp! It’s our last one ever,” he reminded. “It’s only for a few days then we go back, take her to dance with ya and then we graduate the next.” 

Samu’s eyes widened. That meant he won’t get to see you and he wasn’t even able to let you know about it. 

“Oh...” Tsumu picked it up quite easily. The look on his brother’s was a dead giveaway. “Hmm...ya borrowed my shirt, right?” 

“Already gave it to ya,” Samu replied a little annoyed. 

“Oops...my bad.” Tsumu pressed his palms together. “I think I left it in my locker.” 

They stared at each other as if they were transmitting a special and weird kind of message. 

Tsumu gave him a heads up and Samu hurriedly ran back to school on his way to the lockers as fast as he could.  

After what happened this morning, with you just spending time with each other and him not pretending to be someone else, he just wanted to see you, talk to you, be with you as himself. 

His chest rose and fell as he caught up with his breath. He had arrived at the lockers, but it was empty.  

No one was there.  

You weren’t there.  

His shoulder slumped in dismay while he opened the locker, which he somehow shared with his brother. The shirt wasn't even there and Samu knew it was just Tsumu’s phony excuse to let him off the hook. 

Closing the door, he resigned in defeat. Sighing as if fate was playing him all along. Everytime he wanted to come clean and make things clear, the opportunity was always not in his favor.  

However, a sliver of hope had lit him up as he heard faint footsteps approaching. 

It’s you. 

Suddenly, all the courage he had dissipated, and the anticipation turned him into a frozen mess. Your backs were against each other as you fetched your own stuff from your locker. Though he’s already done with his business, he remained standing there not lifting a finger nor saying a word. 

“I’m all okay now, thanks to you. The bento brought me a lot of comfort,” you initiated, closing your locker. “I know that the school year’s about to end and we might go our separate ways.” Samu took a sharp breath and clenched his fists as you continued, “But I really cherish every single second I’ve spent with you, Miya...”  

Before you could even finish, you suddenly found your back pressed against the locker, a hand over your eyes and his lips crashed against yours. The kiss took away his name from your lips before it could even escape. He couldn’t take the pain if you’d say his brother’s. He couldn’t bear to hear it.  

Right now...when he had you with your eyes closed and his kiss was disarming your very being, it’s just him. Just like each of the moment he shared with you. It’s just him. Samu...Osamu. 

You easily caved into him. His familiar scent, feeling and warmth were making you wish that this won’t end. Even with eyes closed, you knew him and you just melted in his arms, hoping that this very minute would turn into hours.  

His kisses felt like a plea. A desperate plea. Desperately, he was begging you to love him back.  

Love...He parted from you, now waking up from the realization. 

All this time, he’s not fighting his feelings for you...he’s escaping the pain if you don’t feel the same way too. 

Feeling the loss of his touch, you called out to him. His name softly breezed out of your lips, but when you opened your eyes, he was no longer there.  

Your fingers went over your lips, tracing every whisper of his. Your chest tightened--heart all squeezed out. Why did it all feel like goodbye? 

『MASTERLIST』 PREV • NXT »

super sorry for the delay! I got a little bit under the weather yesterday and though I'm done with the chapter, I can't bring myself to open my laptop. we're getting there! we're getting so close to where things would culminate and fall into place! thanks for sticking with me. updates will be bi-weekly, moving forward!

REBLOGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED ♡

Please help me reach other viewers. Thank you so so much! 

TAGLIST

@miiyas @sagejin @wyrcan @dailyakira @pixelcafe-network

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Do you remember my skincare mini series? Do you remember how Rain and Lus were kind of mean to Mountain? I felt kind of bad about that.

the day is long enough to turn you into stone

(contains: Gentle sex near the end, 2k words of mountain getting rubbed down and loved on, trans!rain topping, the glory of a naked cumulus, cockwarming and handfeeding. Written in one go so if something's wrong, no it's not. Unless it's really bad. Will throw it on ao3 whenever.)

Mountain’s been on the move long before dawn, boots on the ground with just enough coffee in his system to convince his aching eyes to open and his tired mind to pay attention. It's the last day in a long stretch of many working ones bedding the gardens and orchards down for what promises to be a proper winter season. Coming in late to the harvest season meant he missed the majority of the fun work; picking and canning and jamming and drying. All that was left was the grunt work, of mending fences and chopping wood, testing and feeding the soil to ensure a good healthy ground to plant the saved seeds in next year. Tools needed to be repaired, sheds and barns and coops needed to be cleaned out and inspected. Feedstores checked and then checked again for the constant threat of pests, but that's helped by the mousers, creeping silently along until a hand was held out and they approached with a purr that rivaled any ghouls.

At some point his brain comes online again. The autopilot shutting off when there's no more work to be done. Of course, there's always more work to be done, but as Mountain sits stop a boulder and slowly chews his way through the sandwich someone had handed to him hours and hours and hours ago, he can't think of anything else he’d like to do more than go to sleep for the rest of the year.

(Divider by @forlorn-crows)

Not like this though. He wouldn't sleep well if he was filthy, caked in the day’s worth of sweat and grime and he honestly can't remember the last time he showered but he thinks the garden hose should suffice as he passes it on his way in. His clothes are tossed in a pail to be retrieved at some other point in time for laundry and he relishes the cold burst of water that hits his skin, tracking down through the dirt that might as well be engrained underneath.A cleaning rag from one pocket is taken to scrub what he seems the worst of it off with help of a shrunken and discolored ball of tallow and lye soap taken from another pocket. He reasons that he'll probably dry before he gets to his room and that the sight of a nude ghoul won't surprise anyone at this point. The rules were a bit laxer around this time of year, since novitiates weren't traditionally moved in until the longest and darkest night.

But there's a wrench thrown into his plans, as soon as he opens the door to his room. The motion sends a flurry of rose petals scattering across the floorboards, just a few in a trail that leads to his bathroom door, cracked open to waft out the scent of something decidedly not of his own toiletry collection. There's just enough candlelight in the tiny room for him to see he won't be spending the night alone.

“I'm not cleaning this up.” Is the only thing he can think to say as Rain opens the door wider. He's shockingly clothed but in such a way to suggest he won't be staying so for very long. Loose, flowing fabric, draped easily and easy to pull off. Mountain tries to be interested, really he does, but it's just that he's so damn tired and the bed is right there. His bones ache. His head aches. Rain is very pretty but Mountain is very, very exhausted.

“Don't worry about it.” Rain says dismissively. He beckons with an elegant arm outstretched and like the work-dog he feels he really is, Mountain obeys with a hanging head. “Oh, stop moping. We're doing something different tonight.”

“Not moping.” He says, sounding childish and petulant but the attitude disappears as soon as he sees the tub. His battered old claw foot has been utterly transformed, scrubbed clean and shining in the low light. The water, tepid on the best of days, has been heated so that fragrant steam rises in lazy whirls as Rain leads him to it. He can pick out lavender and chamomile right away, but it's not his own mixture. It's something from the water ghoul’s expensive and luxurious collection, something that came in an elegantly wrought alabaster jar that Rain pours from as Mountain gathers enough braincells to realize the bath is, in fact, for him.

“Go on.” Rain says. “I can't add everything else until you do.”

Words fail him, especially as he tests the water with his fingers and finds it delightfully hot. Slipping his whole body underneath it brings out deep and guttural noise from his chest, near sexual as it envelops him. His eyes are heavy and refuse to remain open.

“Mmrhn?” Is the best he can manage as a lid is twirled open and the gentle hiss of dry herbs hit the water.

“Pain relief mixture.” Rain murmurs, continuing to sprinkle. “Your own.”

A special blend of three salts, eleven herbs, and four oils. He knows them all by name but his brain dips offline again as Rain comes to perch on the lip of the tub by his shoulders. Mountain cracks his eye open in a Herculean effort and is rewarded with the glimpse of a small silver bowl dipping into the water and, most importantly, the sight of Rain’s clothing folded neatly on the counter by the sink.

He's just a Ghoul, after all.

“Close your eyes.” Rain gently admonishes and Mountain does. The water is poured over his hair and face, Rain giving extra attention to his beard to make sure no part of Mountain is left untouched and dry. Cool cream is smeared on the bare skin of his face with a dampened towel wrapped carefully around his head so he can still breath while whatever Rain out on his works it's magic. Something else is combed patiently through his tangled hair and left to soak in as Rain scratches tenderly at his scalp.

He drifts off; into a hazy dreamscape of grey and gardens that never need tending. His feet float above the ground so his body never aches with the weight of carrying itself around all day and somewhere in the mist, he knows someone waits. Just as he's about to find them and take them in his arms, they call out gently a name not his own and he's too tired to startle, but manages an impressive snort as Cumulus chuckles.

“How's he doing?” She whispers and Mountain hopes she's just as naked as he and Rain are.

“He’d fall asleep right here if we let him.” Rain replies. “Did you find the rose lotion? The one in a square bottle?”

“I thought we weren't doing that rose lotion.” Cumulus answers, setting what sounds like a basket down on the countertop. “Remember? It was too waxy and not moisturizing enough.”

“Oh.” Rain says, starting to unwrap the towel from Mountain’s face. His vision is blurred and he can't make out much- just the figure of his beautiful Lus gleaming mother naked in the candlelight as she unpacks her basket, setting each item down with reverence after a thorough inspection. “Right. Look, in my defense, we came up with this idea when we were smoking.”

“Nuh-uh.” Cumulus counters, a smile in her voice so rich he can hear the dimples. “You forgot everything we agreed on as soon as we saw Mountain strip down and hose off.”

“Okay.” Rain says amicably. “And? Like you're any better.”

“Surprised you haven't dove in there with him yet.”

Mountain makes a noise that informs everyone present he would very much enjoy Rain diving in to join him. But that would leave Lus out and he wants his Lus as well, it's not fair to leave her in the candlelight, lovely as she looks in it.

“He agrees with me.”

“He's agreeing with me.”

They're being so nice to him for once. He thinks the bickering has taken a different turn but it's not like there are any real stakes at play here. Rain’s washing his hair now, soaping out the mask he applied earlier and rinsing the suds out as Cumulus sits on his other side and presses something to his mouth. He opens as he's bid and lets her handfeed him some impossibly delicious, crispy bite of food. Savory and meaty in a flaky shell. His own recipe that he can recognize even as the last of his brain drips out of his skull in the heat of the water and the two beside him. His mouth is wiped when he finishes, cool water out to his lips and he drinks. The next course of fruit and cheese begins as Rain fusses with conditioner, snips at his scraggly beard with a little pair of shears and even cleans and files his nails, brushing on yet another oil to the keratin.

“I could watch you pamper our man all day.” Cumulus teases, holding out a cube of cheese on a stick. Rain takes it gracefully, giving her extended and pointed eye contact as he draws back. Mountain wheezes and the noise brings their attention back on him again.

“Your turn.” Rain says.

He's helped out of the water, gone tepid by now and for once his body doesn't complain about the work of moving joints and muscles and his bones don't feel like they’ve been filled with lead. Cumulus dries him with her power, keeping him warm thermals harnessed to keep him from shivering. His skin, dry from the heat and the harshness of his own soap, is coated in a shea butter lotion and he's led from the bathroom to his bed with a fire crackling in the grate.

“Lay down.” She says, and he obeys. On his back at first but she flips him with ease onto his stomach and really, he's got no complaints there. She's easy to underestimate, always seen with a box of sweets and tucked up with a book but only a fool forgets she's a menace from the pit. Being spoiled up top just suits her better and she's got years of experience to draw on as she straddles his back. Hands that once ripped jawbone from skull press tenderly into his muscles and he forgets everything again as she works him, fingers dancing like she's playing her piano. Her body is a comforting weight atop him, easing any lingering anxiety he might have had about things being left undone or not good enough. It's no use to worry without energy to act on it. If things go wrong, he’ll be rested and restored enough to deal with them. Even his tail is lovingly played with, tugged on and rubbed until it settles.

At some point, she slips off and lays next to him with a little plate of chocolates. Rain’s on him now, pouring more oil in a straight line down his back, humming as he dots more here and there. Mountain grumbles until he's fed a candied pecan from Lus’ lips and the kiss distracts him enough so that he doesn't notice Rain shuffling back to sit on his knees as he idly plays in the spills of oil, finger painting that takes his hands lower and lower.

With one hand on each cheek, Rain pulls him apart. Warm oil splatters directly on his hole and he jolts with a whimper that Lus smothers with her chest. Rain dips two fingers inside, easily finding the spot that has his legs shaking in moments. He didn't have the energy for sex, he thought, but what they wanted was vastly different than what he expected. Rain’s fingers steadily pump in and out of his body for ages as he and Lus kiss, the water leaving his own lip prints in the film slowly absorbing into Mountain’s skin.

“You hard, baby?” Lus asks him between breaths and Mountain is embarrassed at the way he whispers out no, chasing the taste of her but she just smiles patiently at him.

“Don't need to be, honey. We’ll take care of you.”

When he's finally deemed ready, he's pushed onto his side, Rain tight to his back while Lus throws a luscious thigh over his hip, going for his neck. He feels the press of Rain's breasts against his shoulder blades, his own hips rocking for purchase until his tentacle eases out of Rain's body and wriggling home into Mountain's. It curls up inside him, heavy and deep and pressed right where he needs it. His cock is gripped in a soft, manicured hand, not to rub and tease but just to hold and comfort. He doesn't know which way to turn to kiss them and their laughter is gentle.

“Just let us take care of you.” Whispers one.

“It's the least we could do in return.” Murmurs the other.

His sleep, after an orgasm milked from his still soft cock, is deep and dreamless. It's a long time before all three of them wake up.

[cottonlemonade]

hello there!! I was wondering if you could do menu A with chocolate milk, purin and mochi??? I will be sitting next to Ennoshita!! Thank you!! ��😊

Part-Timing At The Same Job

word count: 663 || avg. reading time: 2 mins.

pairing: Ennoshita x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

warnings: none

request: fluffy, part-timing at the same job with boyfriend Ennoshita

“It could be worse.”

“How?”

“Uhm…”, Chikara rubbed thoughtfully at the back of his neck.

After a few moments he seemed to have found a point to make, “You’d have to do everything one by one with a really leaky watering can.”

You opened your mouth to argue but closed it begrudgingly. Wearing the scowl of a lifetime, you let your eyes wander over the many rows of long metal folding tables, the surfaces hardly visible beneath all the leaves and blossoms.

A few hours ago, when your boss came up to you, phone to her ear and a no-nonsense kind of look in her eyes and had asked you and your boyfriend to stay late and take over watering in the garden center, you were quick to agree. How long could it take to water some plants?

Yet somehow you seemed to have severely underestimated the task. Without the many customers walking along the tightly packed rows of green and blocking a lot of your view, the sheer amount of plants was overwhelming. And all you wanted to do was spend a relaxing movie night with your boyfriend.

Said boyfriend rolled up his sleeves and clapped his hands twice, making you involuntarily stand to attention.

“Alright. I’ll take these, you take the bonsai and orchids. If we hurry, we can still grab some take-out on the way to your house.”

With a salute you hurried away to prepare a couple buckets with water to sink the plants into.

It was dull work and you were very glad you didn’t have to do it in the pressing summer heat of the afternoon. But although the air wasn’t as soupy as it was earlier, you still felt beads of sweat rolling down your brow, neck and arms as you dunked, pushed down and then lifted the newly watered plants out of the buckets back onto their respective tables.

Your shoulders started to protest under the repeated unfamiliar strain but you kept focussing on the goal.

You had started the part-time job to afford a new bicycle so you wouldn’t have to keep using the rickety old thing your brother so graciously let you borrow - for a price, of course. It was rusty and hard to peddle and held together by duct tape and good thoughts if nothing else. With your own new bike you could not only get to school without having to rely on the rather unreliable bus but (mainly) you could go on romantic rides with Chikara, have a picnic maybe and cloud gaze without getting constantly interrupted by your brother making kissing noises or his mom who kept poking her head through his bedroom door and asked if you had enough snacks.

Using the last bit of shirt that wasn’t completely drenched to wipe your brow you headed for the bigger section where Chikara was struggling with the hose having caught on one the table legs.

“Almost done.”, he announced when you came closer, “Just one more flower.”

“Hm?”, you were too exhausted to catch his playful grin and it was too late when he already pointed the hose at you.

“No!”, you yelled and ran away but as if you could ever outrun a volleyball player.

His arm quickly wrapped around your chubby middle and pulled you back into him, giving him the opportunity to give your face a little spritz of water. Still giggling you turned to him and interlaced your fingers behind his neck.

“That was actually really nice.“, you admitted with a surprised frown, “This heat is ridiculous. - We should go to the lake this weekend.“

Chikara nodded happily and leaned down for a kiss.

So lost in utter contentment of his lips on yours you didn‘t notice how he raised the hose again, spraying it into the air above you two for a light refreshing shower.

He held you tightly at the waist so you couldn‘t get away and silenced any pouty protests with more kisses.

a/n: thank you so much for this cute request! Thinking about him working at a garden center is so soft ☺️ please enjoy!

[starshifter]

notes for chp 5. come listen to me ramble

-

Blade is such a fucking mess in this chapter. No one emulate this self-destructive idiot.

Blade take a shower challenge. That’s fucking gross, dude. (Walking around with blood still on him is taken from in-game, actually. Bailu made that comment about him smelling like blood when he visited her, but not seeming injured, and that’s majorly colored how I see him interacting with his injuries. He can’t be bothered to take care of them all, because they just happen so much and he doesn't have the energy. Relatable, I guess. Still a biohazard.)

Why didn’t Blade call Welt directly? Honestly, I forgot he could do that lol. My terrible depression brain can’t remember anything. So clearly, Blade also forgot because he also has that. He’s been through a lot, forgetting things is normal. He also probably just wanted something familiar and comforting at that time, so he called Silver Wolf. She would have the answer, wouldn’t demand payment (looking at you, kafka), and would still be awake (firefly deserves what sleep she can get).

I fully believe that Silver Wolf is a disgusting goblin because she is a hardcore gamer. I don’t care how “gamer fantasy” she dresses. She’s a little gremlin who touches her gum and then puts her spitty little hands all over things. Disgusting. Someone spray her with a hose.

So I made the incorrect assumption that the Express had facilities for guests onboard. Since, you know, it’s a train that had passengers cycling on and off it in the past. Hell, in the present as well, based on the guests we picked up on Penacony. Where the hell are they staying??? Are they sleeping on the couches and borrowing the Trailblazer’s bathroom?? We just don’t know. Maybe there is a guest section, but that wasn’t good enough for a Nameless. Idk man. Nothing makes sense around here I’d honestly originally assumed that sleeping cars with additional rooms for passengers appeared and disappeared by the power of the Trailblaze depending on how many people were staying on the train. This was wrong. I also assumed they had public bathrooms since I didn’t see any attached to the archive’s or March’s room. Also wrong. Go figure. What the actual fuck was Himeko thinking? She deadass just looked at the half rebuilt train and was, like, three rooms is enough, right? And then she launched the Express into space without waiting for anyone to respond.

Yes, that was Himeko’s very polite version of a shovel talk. She does not have to resort to direct threats of violence to get her willingness to tear people apart across. Her power is just that great. I fucking love her, honestly. Her desire to tear Shush into scrap metal with her bare hands and impressive restraint fully justified my characterization in this scene.

They’re like…weirdly co-dependent despite being estranged for like 700 years?? Which is way longer than they’ve spent together. What’s up with that?

Also, there was a very fun gossip session held between the Trailblaze trio about DH’s crush on Blade that involved him sort of admitting that he did like Blade. He did try to stay silent and admit nothing, but eventually they started saying such outrageous things that he spoke up just to make them stop being so wrong.

The Trailblazer trio definitely all bully each other. Dan Heng gets bullied the least though, so he’s earned this. Let the girls repay his many sarcastic remarks 2k24. ….wait what’s the amber era in star rail again? Let’s try this again: let the girls bully Dan Heng back 2k157

I don’t know anything about archival work. However, I have two friends who work in archives. I still don’t really understand metadata (like, it’s shit like the day something was created. Useful and all, but I’m sure there’s more too), but they seem to think it’s a big deal. So Dan Heng cares about proper metadata maintenance. (I could have just asked them what they do, I suppose, but then I have to confess the existence of this fic and these are, like, college friends. Not fandom friends. I might combust on the spot if they asked to see the fic)

It also amuses me greatly that Jing Yuan is low-key haunting the narrative. Smuggled Blade off the Xianzhou… Sent DH those books to help him reconnect with his past… He’s out here playing 5D chess to help his friends while everyone else is still playing checkers.

DH did not decide his bed was lacking. At least not for the reason Blade thought. He doesn’t really care about having a big fancy bed, in fact he thinks it might make sleeping more difficult, he just wants to leech Blade’s warmth lmao

OK, so the suicide attempt was added on the edits, but I also debated adding an additional scene with Pom-Pom confronting Blade about it because they sensed the death happening on their train. Ultimately, I decided Pom-Pom was the wrong choice for this scene. Blade would not deal well with the Conductor lecturing him in that scenario. And! It was an excuse for more Firefly! I didn’t feel like I had enough of her in these last chapters and that annoyed me. So, more Stellaron Hunter feels, the whole fucking reason I started writing this damn fic before Blade hijacked it with his Dan Heng obsession smh

Seriously, this was supposed to be just Blade and Firefly going on an adventure together, and then I realized that they would both like to see their respective Trailblazers, so I added them, and then it spun completely out of control. As these things go…

Kafka’s bad romance choices were also added on the edits. I have a LOT of headcanons about Kafka and her disaster of a love life. Almost all of them are highly concerning. Oops. Kafhime might actually be more fucked up than Renheng the way that I would write it. That’s tragic. ….if I knew more about Kafka’s backstory, please know that I would ABSOLUTELY be writing kafhime right now. I crave my toxic lesbians, but I currently feel like I would have to make up way too much backstory with no supporting evidence and I don’t like doing that. ….maybe I could make an AU? No, bad, Des. Stop right fucking there. ….except… pirates……? NO. FUCK

[stabbyfoxandrew]

I love all your stories so much!!! Can I please request Vampdrew this week?

WIP Wednesday (5/22)| Vampire Andrew AU (Part 133)

If he were some sort of disgusting pervert, Andrew could use his powers for evil. He could listen to exactly what Kevin’s thinking and doing and store it in his memory for later. Or he could jump into Kevin’s head for a front row seat. But he’s not. He’s a… sort of decent person.

So he tries his best to ignore it. Until he hears a choked off version of his name that he can’t ignore. It makes his own blood— or the squirrels’ blood, he supposes— rush through his veins to heat his face. And thank fuck no one can hear his thoughts.

“— I could hose you off in the yard.” Aaron offers suddenly, making Andrew’s head snap towards him. What the fuck was that? Twin telepathy?

“Pardon?” Andrew asks, raising a brow. He knows Aaron can’t hear what he’s thinking. And he knows he didn’t react, visibly at least so what…

Aaron gives him a strange look. “I said if Kevin is going to take six weeks in the shower, I can rinse you off outside. It was just a joke, calm down.”

“Oh. That won’t be necessary,” Andrew says. Kevin is… done. And his shower is about to be. Andrew waits for the water to cut off, for the sound of a towel rustling over wet skin, then he heads for the bathroom.

He knocks once, then through the door says, “Hey. Get out.”

Kevin’s thoughts freeze, mirroring the way all his muscles just locked up. And he swallows before saying, “Andrew?”

“I need to use the shower, if you don’t mind. This is my house, after all,” Andrew reminds him. After a beat, the lock clicks and Kevin opens the door wrapped in a towel with his clean clothes held against his chest.

“I’ll… Get dressed out here, I guess,” He says, his face reddened. Whether by embarrassment or the hot water, Andrew can’t tell. ‘Oh my God. Did you— Um. I thought you would be gone longer. I didn’t—’

“Hear what?” Andrew asks, feigning ignorance and holding up bloodied hands. “I just got back. I need to take care of this.”

“Oh, okay,” Kevin lets out a breath of relief and steps to the side, letting Andrew pass him. Fuck, he smells good. His natural scent mixes well with his shower gel and the post-orgasm endorphins add a little something Andrew wants to taste. But he can’t do that right now. He shuts the door between them and strips himself, dumping his shirt into the garbage can to deal with later. Then he steps into the shower and finds himself half hard.

[mraprilfools]

Word Count: 8.9k

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Vox/Angel Dust

CW/TW: Mention of Non-Con

Summary:

After Angel Dust manages to break free from Valentino's leash, he discovers he doesn't know the person he used to be before Valentino put him under his leash. In an effort to rediscover his identity he ends up lashing out as the trauma of those long years makes him a stranger to the people around him. In the middle of a self-destructive bender, Vox finds himself sympathizing with his plight. Once having gone through it himself long ago.

He guides Angel Dust to vent the frustration of his lost identity and feeling of Valentino's claws still in him posthumously, eventually leading to some... sensual catharsis.

Preview below the cut.

Everything had been so wonderful. But it should have been perfect!

Everything should have been all suns and roses after Valentino died. The first three months free of his leash had even been perfect. More than perfect! With nothing to hold Angel Dust back, he even pursued Husk without fear of being rejected for his profession. To his surprise, the man even felt the same way! Husk was sweet. He held him, loved him, and made him feel like there was something in him worth loving when he spent so long feeling like he was unworthy. He was so sweet he wanted to cry some nights because it didn’t feel real. He made real, good progress making all of the redemptive activities with Charlie and built a more sisterly bond with the host of the hotel too.

But then…

Then he’d feel a touch on his back or his shoulder. And he’d remember the way Valentino’s hands would brush over his body.

When Husk whispered sweet nothings he’d recall the sickly pink tongue wet and hot against his neck. And how his body loved it. It should be Husk. It should have loved the way he held onto his waist and kissed his neck. But it didn’t give him half the excitement when he was simply a tool, an object to be used and tossed aside. Angel felt broken and soiled. Unworthy.

So he started pushing Husk away. Husk tried to reach him, but the stronger he tried to fix him and be there for him the worse Angel felt. Husk was too good to him, way too good. He deserved far better, so Angel broke up with him after a mere couple of months. Why?

Because he was terrified that there was nothing left of the man he was anymore.

He was empty. Broken, and worthless. Valentino’s claws were still deep in him long after his death. Certain words would revive the memories in horrifying clarity. Hit him harder than ever before now that he was no longer numb.

So Angel threw himself into drugs. Into parties. Into every man who fuck him senseless. It was liberating because he CHOSE to be destroyed. He chose it when he was left in the street bruised and covered in so many fluids.

And he liked it.

And he liked it because it made his decision to break up with Husk feel like the right choice. He didn’t deserve him, he didn’t deserve happiness. He deserved this hell. Valentino had ruined everything good about him.

After one bad night with so many guys, he couldn’t count? Forget the shower! He stole some chump hose! Who could stop him? Valentino sure couldn’t! The princess may try, but he wasn’t ANYONE’S bitch now! He was free! The bitter cold spray of the hose left him shivering and hardly got him clean. It only made him feel less sticky.

These minor acts of defiance without rhyme or reason uplifted his spirits. They were also crushing them. The contradictions didn’t make sense, and he drank so he wouldn’t have to think about it too much.

Before Angel knew it, he found himself collapsed on the side of a road in front of some old abandoned factory on the edge of the Doomsday District. He had no memory of how he got there. He had taken every drug he could name, and some he couldn’t, he wasn’t even sure if it was the same week anymore.

The lights of the city meant Pentagram City never slept. Flickering neon lights of pink, green, red, flashing and glittering on the puddles left by the recent acid rain. The gravel against his cheek pricked at his cheek. A strange heaviness was falling over his eyes, one that said it’d be nice to simply fall asleep right then and there. Some guy might mug him, rape him, stab him. He couldn’t find it in him to care anymore. He wanted to return to the numbness.

The rare car passed through this street, and Angel paid them no mind. Sometimes an old customer would try to reach out and try to buy him for a night. He liked those nights because he could flip them off and tell them to eat his ass.

So when an old BMW-styled car parked itself near Angel, he squared his shoulders and pulled his face off the concrete. Put on a cocky grin ready to tell another sleaze to fuck off. If for some reason a coked-out ho who hadn’t showered in days was somehow appealing. But the window never opened. The car door opened and a long leg stretched out to the road.

Even if he shed the usual blue pinstripe blazer for a modest brown jacket; it would be impossible to mistake the multimedia icon that stepped out of the car with his unique flatscreen head. His face was but another joining artificial light in the darkness.

Vox. (Due to the explicit content, click the link above to read the rest of the story!)

[major-mads]

Dulag Luft

Places of Interest in Masters of the Air

Masterlist

When captured by the Germans, Allied airmen would be sent to Dulag Luft, the interrogation and transit POW camp for the Luftwaffe that was just northeast of the city of Frankfurt. This is the camp where Cleven and Egan were held in solitary confinement for weeks before being transported right outside Sagan to Stalag Luft III.

Dulag Luft interrogators were some of the best in the business, and Miller describes them in Masters of the Air as "deeply skilled specialists who preferred methods more subtle than a rubber hose (Miller, 2007, pg. 386)." Many of these interrogators had spent time in America and were fluent in English. The conversation "would begin by offering him chocolate and cigarettes and then draw him into some light banter about American baseball or movies.... [the conversation] became so congenial that many airmen were unaware that the interrogation had begun (Miller, 2007, pg. 386)."

The interrogators had thick folders on each man and their bomb group. They gathered their information from intercepted communications, Stars and Stripes newspaper articles, and anything else they could get their hands on. It unnerved some of the men that the Germans knew such specific details of themselves, their families, and their bombardment groups. The conditions were terrible, and many of the officers were subjected to solitary confinement for weeks at a time.

Miller writes about this in his book:

“Downed Allied airmen felt safer in the hands of the German military than they did with the local citizenry they had bombed. Luftwaffe police and interrogators were in official charge of captured airmen, and their tactics for extracting information were rough but rarely barbaric. After being captured, Lou Loevsky was shipped with other downed American airmen to Dulag Luft, the Luftwaffe interrogation center for Allied airmen at Oberursel, a suburb of Frankfurt am Main. At one point in his interrogation a smiling Luftwaffe major asked Roger Burwell why the men in his 381st Bomb Group at Ridgewell had not yet fixed the broken clock in their officers club. Airmen who refused to provide military or personal information were usually threatened verbally. Some were told that their families would not be informed they were alive and "safe" until they began to cooperate; men captured without identification tags were warned that they could be turned over to the Gestapo to be executed as spies. One stubbornly tight-lipped officer - married and with children - was told that if he persisted in his obstinacy, a report would go out the next day from the German radio station in Calais that the night before he was shot down he had been at the Grosvenor House in London, in room 413, with an attractive blond woman. Knowing that the information was exactly correct, the major is reported to have fainted on the spot. Prisoners were also softened up by the appalling conditions at Dulag Luft: the tomblike isolation, the starvation rations, and the mice that ran free in the dank cells, and crawled in prisoners' pockets searching for food. Sometimes the promise of a shower, a shave, and a hot meal was sufficient to loosen a man's tongue. The guards also fiendishly manipulated the temperatures in the cells, shutting off the electric wall heaters in the winter and turning them up to intolerable levels, to 130 degrees, in warmer weather. Hundreds of airmen arrived at Dulag Luft wounded and were denied medical treatment, a flagrant violation of the Geneva Conventions regarding prisoners of war. "My interrogator said he could see that I was injured and needed treatment and that my being stubborn would only delay my being sent to a hospital," Roger Burwell re-called. On the other hand, high-ranking Allied fliers believed to possess specialized military information were taken on hunting trips or invited to raucous drinking parties with German officers.

Most of the information was gathered from Allied sources by Dulag Luft's efficient staff, who scrutinized American magazines and newspapers brought in from neutral Portu-gal, including Stars and Stripes, a rich source of hometown information about airmen. Additional information, including logbooks, briefing notes, and airmen's personal diaries, was gathered from clothing and other personal belongings found in the charred wreckage of bombers. These documents often contained highly secret data about flight patterns, the effectiveness of German defenses, and targets marked for future bombing. An officer in the American Air Force's Counter Intelligence Corps noted at the time that 'it was not uncommon for large German manufacturers to ask the Luftwaffe if their factories were on the list, and if so, when they could expect to be bombed." German linguists also monitored Allied airmen's wireless communications. According to Hanns Scharff, the interrogators at Dulag Luft had at their disposal a copious file in which "nearly every single word spoken in the air from plane to plane or from base to plane or vice-versa was carefully noted." As Air Force counter-intelligence experts noted in their own secret files, "nothing in the way of documents, written or printed, was too insignificant to merit close scrutiny" by the intelligence staff at Dulag Luft. A case in point is the airmen's ration cards. Every American flier in the European Theater received exactly the same kind of card, and there was nothing on the card to indicate where he was stationed. But investigators at Dulag Luft were able to identify an airman's bomb group by the way his card was canceled. At Thorpe Abbotts, for example, the clerks on duty in the PX marked the cards with a heavy black pencil. The PX counter was made of rough board. All the cards canceled there carried the impression of its distinctive pattern in the black pencil markings. The Air Force's Counter Intelligence Corps estimated that 80 percent of the information obtained by Dulag Luft was supplied by captured documents and monitored radio traffic, with the remainder coming from POW interrogations. After the war, when he was hired as an interpreter by the American military, Hanns Scharff estimated that all but twenty of the more than 500 airmen he questioned disclosed operational and tactical information that proved useful to the Luftwaffe. Few of these airmen, he emphasized, did it knowingly, or through intimidation or a conscious desire to improve the conditions of their confinement. "I suppose he got something out of me," said one flier, "but to this day I haven't the least idea what it could have been." After being released from Dulag Luft, Loevsky and several dozen other airmen were taken by tram to Frankfurt, where they were herded onto cattle cars and sent deep into German-occupied territory to Stalag Luft III (Air Camp number three), near the town of Sagan, a hundred miles southeast of Berlin, one of the half-dozen main POW camps operated by the Luftwaffe hence the term "Luft," or air-for Allied airmen (Miller, 2007, pg. 387-89)."

Dulag Luft was the first stop in a sequence of camps and transportation depots that downed airmen had to go through. Hopefully, we'll get to see more of the camp in the show! We're less than a month away, guys! The wait is almost over!!

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message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list! <3

[rubberfuckey]

summary: After a worried phone call from Wheezie, you decide to come back to Kildare.

part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven

part eight part nine

wc: 1k

a/n: the grand finale! i'm so sad it's over, i hope y'all loved it as much as i do!!

masterlist

talk to me

You didn’t wake up the next day until 2 pm. After you went back down to the party, everything was a blur. You and Rafe went shot for shot, not the smartest thing you’ve ever done considering you were practically half that man’s height. You looked over at him, lying on his stomach, drooling on the pillow. You were both completely naked, you had hickeys on your stomach, your inner thighs, your chest, and bruises on your hips from where Rafe must’ve held you. You literally looked like you were attacked but you couldn’t be happier. You grabbed your phone to use the front camera to look at yourself. You cringed at the sight of the dark hickeys littered across both sides of your neck. Rafe stirred and groaned, reaching an arm out for you. 

“Rafe?” you whispered.

He cringed at the volume even though you were as quiet as possible, “Hmm?”

“What the hell happened last night?”

“I’m pretty sure it was the best night of my life,” he mumbled. 

You smiled, “What time did we fall asleep last night?” “Everything after like four o’clock is fuzzy.”

“Did I get in a fight with a damn wild animal?” “What?” He opened his eyes and picked his head off the pillow, immediately looking at the bruises all over your body.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“I should’ve been more gentle. You just kept begging for me to be rougher and who was I to decline such a beautiful girl?”

“It’s okay, I’m happy.”

He had a sleepy smile on his face as his head hit the pillow again. You sat up from the bed, ready to get in the shower and wash the grime away. 

“Where are you going?”

“To shower, you coming?”

He jumped up, keeping his eyes closed on his way to the shower. 

“You feeling okay?” you laughed.

“Yeah, when there’s no light or noise, I’m great. How are you not dying right now?”

“Just luck, I guess.”

“Or you’re just annoyingly perfect,” he said.

“Or that.”

You pulled him into the shower with you, washing his hair as he leaned against the wall.

"I have something to tell you," he says.

"Uh oh,"

"That gets funnier every time," he said sarcastically.

"You're so sassy," you laughed but he shot you a look and you stopped real quick, holding in your laughter.

"What I was saying was, yesterday when I was inside making phone calls, I also signed up for an online, anonymous anger management class," he looked so proud of himself you could've cried right then. "And I looked for a therapist, I don't know, maybe you could help me out with that one?"

"Of course I will, I'm so proud of you."

"Good, I'm doing all of this for you."

You opened your mouth to scold him for his reasoning but he cut you off, "I know, I know", he threw his hands up in defense.

You smiled and hugged him, letting the water run over the both of you.

You got dressed after your shower and walked down the stairs, grabbing two Tylenol for each of you, washing them down with some Gatorade. You grabbed his sunglasses out of the key dish in the foyer for him, and he put them on before you opened the front door to inspect the damage. You walked over to some guy passed out in a lounge chair, shaking him awake and telling him he has to go home. He stumbled off, confused, as you laughed. You grabbed a trash bag from the shed and started collecting cups and other trash people left everywhere. 

“Babe, don’t worry about it. I’ll pay someone to come clean everything up.”

You laughed at him and shook your head, continuing what you were doing. He fell asleep with his head in his hands at the outdoor table. His tolerance must be significantly lower now that he’s clean off the hard stuff. You finished bagging all the trash and grabbed the hose to water Rose’s flowers when you heard someone yell your name from the driveway. 

“Wheezie? What are you doing home?”

“I got bored at Samantha’s,” she shrugged.

She took in the scene around her, bags of cups and Rafe asleep on the table, “You guys did have a party. And I missed it?” She scoffed in offense. 

“Trust me, Wheeze, you did not want to be around for last night. Too loud, too many people.”

“Yeah, I can tell you two had a good time, what the hell happened to your neck?” 

She poked at the hickeys on your neck as you tried to cover them with your hands.

“Nothing, Jeez Wheez. What happened to Rafe’s little sister?”

“So are you two back together yet or what? Because I’m calling it now, I’m being the maid of honor at your wedding.”

You laughed and shook your head, “I don’t know, I guess we are? We haven’t really talked about it being official.”

“Yeah, not much talking going on with you two, huh?”

You whacked her with your arm as you gasped. 

Rafe woke up at the sound of your gasp, “What? What’s wrong?”

“Your sister is too grown, that’s what’s wrong!”

“Whatever, I’m going to shower,” she laughed.

You walked over to Rafe and plopped down in his lap.

“Hi,” you whispered with a smile.

“Hi,” he replied, grabbing your hand and placing a light kiss on it.

“Rafe, what are we?”

“What?” he laughed.

“I mean, what are we?” you repeated.

“Man, you move a girl back to town, give her back her promise ring, and make sweet, sweet love to her all night, and all the sudden she expects a title out of it.”

You rolled your eyes as you giggled.

“Y/N, will you please be my girlfriend again?”

You bit your lip with a smile, nodding.

“I would like that.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, Rafe.”

He kissed you, cupping your face in his hands. 

“That’s cute,” Wheezie deadpanned, making you jump.

“What happened to getting in the shower Wheeze? You stink,” Rafe teased.

“I should be getting a thank you right now, maybe a ‘Wheezie you’re the best sister in the world and I’ll drive you anywhere you need to go for the next two years’. Y/N wouldn’t be back here if I didn’t call her.”

You shrugged looking over to Rafe, “She’s kinda right, you know.”

Rafe sighed, “Thank you Wheeze,” he mumbled, knowing he wasn’t going to win that argument against the two of you.

“When you’re done being disgusting with my brother, come upstairs, it’s time to wedding plan,” Wheezie said before walking back into the house.

“What?!” Rafe exclaimed as you laughed.

tag list: @user3737338292 @koalalafications @mutual-mendes @allthesefanfics @f4ll-for-you @colbysbrocks @writtenwordslover @bibliophilewednesday @tahliac11 @five-seconds-flat @palmwinemami @m-indkiller

[broken-clover]

Solaxl Week- Day 1

Kinda nuts that GG is a big enough series now to have shipping weeks. I did not expect this one to be the first I'd ever seen but I'm happy! Bringing people together through the power of a couple fire-wielding idiots. Let's get to it!

I fudged this one a tiny bit seeing as how it's a past relationship, it ended up fitting the narrative better, but I promise the rest of these will be more explicitly romantic. I specifically picked the option here that felt a little more tricky for the sake of trying to be creative. And I've always got a soft spot for AU's!

Criminal/Law AU, Firsts, Sparring

-

Called in early. That was always a good start…

Frederick had been at this long enough that he knew exactly how long he could get away with dawdling before someone raised a fuss. Scraping himself out of bed as soon as he got the call meant he could cram in a good-enough shower, just enough to not show up looking like greasy, dandruff-ridden death. Food was a toss-up- after hosing down and stuffing himself into work clothes, a couple of spare minutes only offered enough to stuff a mini-muffin and a slice of cheese in his mouth before grabbing his keys and getting busy with the commute.

While one hand held the wheel, the other tried to wipe the residual tiredness from his eyes and the muffin crumbs from his button-down. His poor excuse for a breakfast had left him longing for a coffee. One of the few things he’d been willing to splurge on when he got the job was a higher-end coffeemaker, the kind with a dozen shiny dials made by a company that sounded French and Swedish at the same time. Unfortunately, the quality shit took time to make. Which meant that when he was in a rush like today, trying to brew a pot was out of the question, leaving his body crying out for caffeine.

Still, drive-thru coffee was always an option. Cheaper, crappier, but an option. He turned the thought over in his mind between turns and on-ramps. Thinking just made his head hurt more. His doctor had mentioned that as being a sign that he needed to cut down on the coffee, but he’d never been the best patient. And with how today was starting out, he didn’t need a headache on top of a headache. Yeah. Shitty coffee was still coffee.

…The exit he typically took was closed. Guess that answered the question for him, but he wasn’t happy about it. Had he forgotten about some prescheduled road work? Usually, he tried to keep a better eye on that kinda stuff. Now he was uncaffeinated and had to take a detour. Great. Whatever this was, he hoped it was goddamn important.

Only a few cars were parked in the station’s lot by the time he arrived. Frederick wasn’t sure if he was pissed off about having nobody to share his suffering with, or glad he got a good spot close to the door. He mentally crossed his fingers in hope that there would be a pot of coffee that he could swipe a cup of. Cops had to use that overinflated budget for something, right?

“Ah, Mr. Bulsara, good to see you!”

Frederick almost mustered a smile. If he made a list of all the people that worked here (and he did know them all, he spent far too much time in this concrete hellscape) and ranked them from most to least pleasant, she’d be at the top of the list by a country mile. Dizzy sat in her usual spot behind the counter, flanked on either side by the kitschy decorations that covered every free inch of her desk. The potted flowers and rubber duckies clashed horribly against the brutalist concrete in a way that he welcomed.

The woman was an anomaly. Far as he knew, she only worked there because her husband was a cop and she wanted to spend more time around him. Her taste in men was questionable, but aside from that, he held a soft spot for her. Dizzy was too good for this place. He’d gotten the impression that she was one of those pacifist types who was legitimately sure any confrontation could be solved with talking it out and holding hands, so what she was doing here eluded him.

Not that he’d ever take talking to anyone else here over her. “Dunno how you can be so perky at this crazy hour.”

Dizzy just shrugged. “I’m up to fill the bird feeders anyway, might as well come in and get started early, too!”

He feigned a gag. “Ugh, too chipper to handle without any caffeine. Do they got a pot going in the breakroom?”

“I can check, if you’d like. I’ll bring you some.”

“What, don’t trust me in there?”

Though he’d meant it lightheartedly, he saw how she winced. “Well, um, it sounded like Leo really wanted to talk to you as soon as you arrived. He told me to send you back immediately. I don’t suppose you could…?”

Any meager bit of sunlight immediately soured. Frederick scowled down the hall. “They drag me outta bed, don’t tell me what for, and I don’t even get a second to breathe? Sonuva-”

“I- I’ll have someone bring you your coffee,” Dizzy called after him as he stormed off. Any ill will he had toward her right now was just an extension of everything else. If he was feeling generous, he’d send flowers later, but he didn’t feel particularly kind right now.

A couple of officers already in the building looked up in shock at the sound of him storming past. Frederick wondered how anyone was still surprised by it anymore. Maybe he’d just been stuck with some newbies on their first early shifts. Maybe one of them had been here long enough to know where the coffee was.

No, there was no time for coffee. Of course not. Good things were kept on a tight schedule, while annoyances came as they liked. He knew exactly what halls to head down and what turns to take. The directions to holding were something Frederick knew like the back of his hand. The same went for the bulky figure that was standing outside of it, peering through the interrogation room’s small one-way glass with a severe frown.

“Whitefang.”

Taking note of his voice and footsteps, the uniformed officer turned to face the newcomer. “Ah, Bulsara. Prudent enough, I suppose, though it seems you declined to iron your suit-”

“I can always turn around and go home, Officer Brick-for-Brains. Just show me who I’m stuck defending.”

Leo blinked silently, taken off-guard by the sudden aggression. His bravado softened. “Alright, alright…suppose I’d rather not devote much more time to this, either.”

“Must’ve been bad if the judge already issued me.”

“Erm, yes, about that…” The cop scratched at his neck and averted his eyes. “Our criminal specifically asked for you.”

Frederick wondered if he’d heard correctly. ”Asked? By name?”

“Yes. Numerous times.”

He wrinkled his nose with displeasure. “Well tell him ‘too fuckin’ bad,’ y’don’t get to pick public defenders. I’ll take it if I get assigned, but- “

“Frederick, please.” Leo cut him off with a sigh. “He’s been raising a fuss for hours now. The only way we could get him to stop was by telling him you were coming. We had to do something.”

He snorted in disbelief. “Great, so I’m your scapegoat. Why’m I supposed to want to agree with this?”

“You don’t have a choice. You’re a PD, you can’t decline a case.”

“This isn’t my case.”

“Not yet.” Leo raised a finger, suddenly looking awfully smug. “But if on the off chance it becomes your case, and you refused to be involved with your client, that’d cause some legal issues, wouldn’t it?”

He wasn’t sure if that was true or not. He hadn’t run into a situation like this before. Then again, he wasn’t sure if he should expect a cop to know the law, either. The fact of the matter here was that Leo wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Fuck’s sake, you’re the reason I still smoke.” Frederick elbowed past the other man with no attempt at care. “Fine, I’ll talk to him. What am I working with, here?”

“Criminal arson. No confirmed deaths, but they haven’t sifted through all the rubble to be sure yet.”

“Aaaaand you’re sticking me with the heavy shit, too. Sonuvabitch, couldn’t just be something petty, could it?”

“Frederick- “

He ignored whatever Leo was trying to say. No point in wasting any more time than they already had. The door was unlocked, so he let himself in without hesitation.

And immediately regretted it.

“...Of course it’s you.”

Significantly sootier than usual, pants torn and cuffs singed, but he recognized that smirk anywhere. Axl looked awfully comfortable in those crappy metal chairs. He’d already put his feet up on the table like he owned the place. No wonder Leo had been more irritable than usual.

“Finally! Got stuck slingin’ shit at the blue meanies so long, I thought you’d never get here! Damn, grew your hair out since last time, how’ve you been, chief?”

Frederick ignored his enthusiasm, merely shutting the door behind him. The room was kept chill, likely to keep criminals from getting too comfortable, but he was thankful for how it cooled the sweat on his forehead and palms. This just kept getting worse. Had he done something lately to warrant all this bad karma biting him in the ass?

“This isn’t a nostalgic reunion.” He tried to keep his focus on the job, not the person attached to it. Frederick placed his case on the table and tried to ease into something more familiar.

“Man, don’t look all that different, though! Still same ol’ chief.” Axl grinned, only to sour slightly when he went ignored. “Jeez, ya grew up and got stuffy.”

“And you became a criminal.”

“Pfft. So they already got ya started on that. I didn’t do nothin’.”

“So your clothing is singed because…?”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to do anything. Just hanging out, havin’ a drink, next thing I know everyone’s yelling, bloody pigs saying somethin’ about ‘criminal arson’ and ‘shuttin’ down the I-44.’ It wasn’t that bad.”

“Christ alive, that was you?” Part of the job was not taking things personally, but it seemed like Axl was taking that as a challenge right now. “Was a pain in the ass taking a detour around it.”

The man merely shrugged, not fazed in the slightest at his current circumstances. “Did anybody die?” He watched Frederick intently, as though waiting for some specific reaction. When he didn’t get it, he broke out into a catlike grin. “Right. ‘Cause I was real careful, just like always.”

“So you’re admitting you were responsible for it?”

“Look, ‘m just sayin’ if someone did knock it down on purpose, it was a tax repo office. No real loss. Prolly had it coming.”

Frederick realized that he had been standing the entire time. While he wasn’t happy with the idea of getting closer to Axl’s smug mug, he was getting awfully tired of standing. The chair’s metal legs shrieked against the ground as he pulled it out to sit.

As soon as he did, Axl took his feet off of the table and leaned in close. “C’mon, chief, ain’t that sorta thing what we always talked about when we were kids? ‘Fuck the establishment, fuck the system?’ C’mooon, you can’t tell me you’re all chummy with the pigs now, are ya? The hell happened to ya?”

“My own opinions on it ain’t the issue here. You can’t blow up a building and have everyone just be fine with it.”

“I didn’t blow up a building.”

Frederick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, burned down a building. Either way. Fuck, are you gonna listen to a thing I say? My job is supposed to be trying to keep your ass out of jail."

“‘Supposed to?’”

“I can’t take your case now, anyway.” He tossed his hands in the air. “Even if you didn’t take law, you gotta know what ‘conflict of interest’ is, right?”

“Y’mean because we’re exes? What, they don’t like that much in your line a’ work?”

“It was not a relationship.” Despite himself, Frederick could feel his cheeks warming.

“We had sex!”

“Three times, and two of them were only because I felt bad for you. Goddamn it…” He leaned against the tabletop, head low and buried in his hands. “What are you doing, man?”

Axl’s sense of bravado softened. “Chief, I- I just wanted to see you again.”

“You could have done that without becoming an arsonist!”

“Wh- hey, don’t go thinking I did anything for your attention!” Frederick had to recoil as Axl leaned across the table to jab a finger at him. “Not much a point in it anyway, seein’ what you’ve turned into! Sonuvabitch, you gave up on everything we used to talk about! You went soft!”

The other man slapped his hands on the table, glaring back. “I’m not gonna take judgement from someone like- !”

The door to the room slammed open. “Frederick, that’s enough.”

The two went quiet, looking at the officer in the doorframe. “Ah, yeesh, now the pig’s come to bail ya out. 'Course.” Axl sneered.

Frederick said nothing, merely taking his briefcase and departing.

“It was a relationship!” Axl shouted after him. “You’re only lyin’ to yourself!”

Leo rapped his knuckles against the door. “Quiet down, Low. You’ll get another public defender, but it’ll be a few hours.”

“Good! Bet they’re better than you, chief! I’m not over this, you hear me?! YOU’RE NOT TOO GOOD FOR ME JUST BECAUSE YOU WORK WITH THESE BASTARDS NOW, YOU SONUVA- !”

“Are you alright?” Leo asked once the door had closed, blocking any more ranting beyond a protective barrier.

“Fine.” Frederick replied in a clipped grunt. Though his hands were in his pockets, his shoulders were nearly brushing his ears. He turned away and skulked off. “Gonna get some damn coffee…”

[good--bad]

Bathing my Little Belle

The warm water is running filling up the spacious free-standing cast iron tub with the smooth white enameled interior. As the water level rises, Daddy places his hand to test the temperature and finds it just to his liking. There’s some steam rising, but it is not hot, it is just right.

The room finished in white, subway ceramic tile echoes the crash of the water just as a waterfall surrounded by rocky cliffs would. Daddy is kneeling on the shag rug with his hand still inside the tub, making sure the temperature maintains itself. All the while, Little Belle stands by the door, watching, waiting. She has already disrobed as instructed. Her skin shows some stains that need to be washed. She was a bad girl previously playing with her paint brushes. The stains were all from the mess she made. She guiltily looks down at the ceramic floor with her arms hanging down.

Her hair, showing also signs of paint, needs to be shampooed.

Daddy looks up at her while tapping on the side of the tub and, as he does, she comes to him. Still looking down, but obediently. She stops in front of him resting her feet on the soft and ticklish rug. Daddy then takes her left hand to help her keep her balance. The right foot goes in first with its toes trying out the warm, steamy water. Little Belle is not always in the mood for a bath, but she knows that this time, she needs one. Daddy is not happy in how she has gotten all stained and dirty with acrylic paint and that even her hair has patches of green and red paint.

The water feels nice as she sinks entirely into the risen water of the tub. Daddy tells her to sit and she does. He then opens the drawer from the adjacent vanity and grabs a Bath Bomb that he drops slowly into the water. It immediately makes like a low explosion underwater and an effervescent reaction begins to surge from the center. This reaction occurs very close to where Little Belle’s legs meet. She feels the bubbly mint reach her getting her to adjust her position ever so slightly.

The water in the tub slowly begins to change its character from clear to a soft green fog where only her knees show. Daddy takes his hand again inside the tub to help the bubbles mix better and makes soft waves that run in all directions. These, in turn, wash up on Little Belle’s bust just as they would against a seawall, leaving random whitish bubbles on her nipples and breasts.

Daddy loves how it looks.

The warm water has now slowed down Little Belle’s heartbeat as she closes her eyes leaving on her lips the signs of contentment.

Daddy takes the bottle of shampoo and pours out just enough to get all of her long luscious hair washed. His hands dig into her hair and fold spreading the substance all over as well as massaging her scalp in the process. She says nothing but makes so that he can reach under to her neck and to the sides over her ears. Her hair now starts changing color from her natural self to the white of the shampoo. Daddy likes that her hair is no longer covered in paint. Some smearing of paint residues shows, but it is obvious that it is coming off.

He then grabs the hand-held shower with the hose and lets a stream of warm water run from the top of her head down every side including her faces. The shampoo starts giving way as her hair reappears. The suds run over her eye lids, some getting stuck in the ear, and others running fast down her neck and over her shoulders. The sheen of her hair returns with the wet cleanliness that is being achieved.

Little Belle likes it when her Daddy washes her hair. His hands firm, but not so that he pulls her hair. She dislikes the sensation of having just some strands pulled [but she prefers it when the whole of her hair is pulled…she thinks this to herself]. Her hair is finally clean and back to being beautiful.

Daddy now gets up again to look for the container of bath gel; he loves the smell of coconut on her. Coming back to the tub, he now brings a short, small teak bench to sit on. He is now to her right and just outside of the tub. He shuts the water and it stops rising. The room now becomes very quiet with only their breathing, the low sounds coming from her slow movements underwater, and random water drops from the faucet on to the pool in the tub.

His hands take the gel and, like with the shampoo, begins to stroke his palms creating a thick lather.

Little Belle instinctively moves forward, places her hands on the sides of the tub and stands. The bubbly suds again sliding down her glistening body.

Daddy loves to see her inside the tub with her body all wet. He loves the way her skin looks with bubbly suds and right now, he simply admires her princess’ beauty.

And she knows.

He washes her as a way of protecting her and keeping her safe. To him, it is an expression of the care he instinctively has for her. And with the mess of paint she made, she imperatively needs this attention.

His lathered hands start at her hips and run down covering her with soap gel. His palms rub against all sides of her legs down to her feet as she raises each leg separately, but still, keeping her balance by holding on to her Daddy’s shoulder.

He goes back to work and stands to wash her back leaving the worst for last. And when he gets to it, Daddy simply reminds her of what a bad girl she had been with the paint. But to get the worst paint stains off, he rubs her chest, neck and cheeks more forcefully making her grimace slightly. Her skin turns slightly pink in blotches. She knows she was bad and that she deserves this. But she also knows it is the only way to get clean again: her Daddy needs to wash it off. And it is coming off…the paint bleeds off her skin slowly but surely.

Daddy knows how to get her little girl clean again. She knows this too.

The paint is now gone, but Daddy is not finished with the wash. She has become accustomed to Daddy’s preference in the order of body parts to wash. She knows that he likes to leave for last. And Daddy is feeling much better about her now that she has gotten rid of the paint.

Her heartbeat begins to beat fast as she imagines where his hands will be going next. Daddy’s demeanor does not change but hers does. He notices her breathing getting heavier and he knows why. But he will not give anything away. Daddy is washing his little girl, his princess, his Little Bell. Even as the sensations she feels make her nipples harden and stand upright as if looking at him, he continues washing.

This is also the part he likes best because this is where he is most concerned that she should be clean.

For this last stage of her washing, Daddy has to adjust his stance and maneuver in such a way that his hand can slide down to her lower back and right at the cusp of the convex shape of her ass, he can slide his hand in between her ass cheeks. Once there, his lathered-hand moves back and forth brusquely over her asshole. The effort makes for a scrub-effect. She loves it and shows how much by pointing her ass up and spreading it for him. His hand slides right across to her front, where he also rubs. The slippery soapiness is now mixing with her natural wetness.

Daddy can feel it. He can feel the mixture of substances. And feels pleased.

The back of his forearm is now gliding along the first hole with his hand handling the next hole. His hand makes it to her pussy mound. She is now bending slightly over wanting for him to wash her extra well.

And he does exactly that.

He then grabs the hand-held again to rinse her all off. Her figure returns straighten with her head tilted up and face receiving Daddy’s warm rinse. Everything is coming off now. All the dirty, the paint, all of it runs off her body and drains away. Daddy has already pulled out the drain stop getting the tub to drain. It all goes, leaving the tub and down the pipe. All of it. She finally opens her eyes and meets Daddy's eyes, looking at her. She smiles with him.

Little Belle knows how important it is to be clean, and Daddy knows what’s best for his little princess.

The End