#like a hot bath and a nice proper meal

[arcane-aesthetics]

[chocogoldie]

Love Slip

bakugo katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contains: established relationship, a bit suggestive at one point

short continuation of Nip Slip 18+

It's been a while since the two of you started dating. Approximately three months, two days and forty-three minutes. But who's keeping count?

During your time together, you've come to learn many things about the blond ticking time bomb:

One, he's a very organized and clean guy. He has to-do lists separated into categories in his phones' notepad app, a strict schedule he follows everyday to stay in shape — not that he needs it, but getting to brag about being able to lift you up certainly strokes his ego — and an extremely neat room that stays neat no matter what. He brushes his teeth three times a day, eats healthy meals, has a proper skincare routine and smells of sweet caramel even when he's dripping with sweat coming back from the gym or from an intense training session with your classmates. ln short, his hygiene is top notch.

Two, he's a little bit of a gym freak. Not that you'd ever mind, you even find it hot most of the time, but sometimes he gets provoked by his other gym buddies, mainly Kirishima and Kaminari, to try out all sorts of exercises with you on his back. Push-ups, squats, even yoga poses, literally anything they can think of just to see if it'd work. You've fallen on your ass more than he'd like, or care, to admit. Not because he wasn't strong, no, but because you cannot concentrate on holding onto him for the life of you, always getting distracted by the way his muscles flex and how he grunts from exertion. It's a sight for sore eyes, strands of hair sticking to his forehead while his usually spiky hair dampens and falls down beautifully, framing his face. It reminds you of your first night together, so of course you wouldn't be able to pay attention to anything else. You don't mention how incredibly good he looks in his compression shirts. Yes, he bought multiple after you oggled him up and hinted at loving the way they fit muscly men.

And last but not least, he's clingier than anyone you've ever met which is a stark, and quite frankly adorable, contrast to his sharp appearance. You're working on some assignments? He's bringing you food and making himself comfortable on your bed while putting on a weird dating show on the TV, occasionally checking up on you to remind you to take breaks. You're going for a quick grocery run? He doesn't waste a second to throw on whatever clothes he can find and join you, walking around the store with the shopping cart and imagining you two as a married couple well into your marriage shopping for your little family. You're taking a bath? Scooch over, he's helping you wash your hair and back. You're feeling sad? He's bringing your favorite ice cream and listening to you vent while gently running his hands over your face, back, thighs, arms, anywhere to soothe you. He cradles your face when your sobbing gets louder, pressing his forehead against yours to help ground you into reality, to snap yourself out of your worries by murmuring “I'm here, baby,” or “I got you”. All in all, he's a big softie for you.

He often shows his affection through his actions, but sometimes when the two of you are alone and in the silence of your bedrooms, he pushes his embarrassment aside and spills his heart out. He vents about hero work, about how he doesn't think he's good enough, or rather, nice enough to be a hero, always ending up berating people to hide his true intentions and words. It's something he's always struggled with, but he's been working on it constantly with you, his friends, and in therapy. He tells you everything about what happened during his time in highschool, how the man literally died for a minute, and how much that impacted his life onwards. You listen intently and comfort him through it, crushing him into a tight embrace to remind him you're there for him as well and that you'd do anything to make him happy. He tells you that your presence is enough.

He whispers soft “I love you”'s each night before you two drift off to sleep, letting his hand rest on the small of your back underneath your shirt, needing to feel your skin against his to be able to sleep. The warmth your body provides gets rid of his reoccurring nightmares and allows him to sleep soundly throughout the night with you by his side. And he very quickly realizes he never wants to lose you. Ever.

Because he might've slipped into having a little crush on you, but he willingly chose to fall in love with you.

© chocogoldie 2024. do not translate, copy, or repost.

a/n: a little smth i came up with while waiting for the poll to finish :3 hope u enjoyed it! not proofread

[spider-stark]

A BOY'S FIRST PEST

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary - Kaz Brekker thinks Per Haskell's daughter is a (very lovely) pest

Warnings - fem!reader, traumatraumatrauma, the woes of troubled youth, light mentions of blood and death, these bitches trauma bonded yo, could deviate some from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, NOT EDITED WE DIE LIKE MEN

Word Count - 2.0k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

Everyone knows Kaz Brekker put his own money into fixing up the Slat. 

He hired men to patch the leaky roof (though it still drips during a heavy rain) and put proper insulation in the walls (which keeps the house warm enough, even if it does nothing to muffle the noise of its occupants). He had all the doors fitted with working knobs (but easily picked locks) and ensured the kitchen was capable of making a warm meal (even if seriously doubted any of the Dregs knew how to cook). 

And while he would never admit it aloud, Kaz was also the one who made sure there were always clean linens in every room (albeit the cheapest Ketterdam has to offer) and spare clothes in every closet (sizes ranging from wafer-thin to barrel-chested). In keeping, he also takes it upon himself to keep the bathing room stocked with a steady supply of toiletries (because if someone uses his toothbrush again, he’s going to kill everyone in this place and then himself). 

Because of Kaz Brekker, the Slat was more than just a safe place to hole up. It was a haven, the closest thing many of the Dregs had to a home. 

But it did, of course, have one enduring problem. 

The pests.

Or, namely, the one pest—one that he could never quite exterminate (though the spider privy to the inner-workings of Kaz Brekker’s mind might argue the merit of replacing ‘could never’ with ‘would never’). 

Per Haskell’s very annoying (and very lovely) daughter. 

In the midst of Ketterdam’s hottest season, you find yourself lying sprawled on your back atop the dark sheets, clad in the skimpiest nightclothes you own: a matching set of black silk shorts and flowy, thin-strapped camisole. The air is thick and near stifling in the attic-bedroom, but you don’t mind it. You prefer being hot to cold, if only because the heavy weight of winter clothes makes you feel trapped, eliciting the urge to crawl straight from your skin. 

When the door finally swings open, you eagerly push up onto your elbows. 

Kaz doesn’t so much as spare a glance in your direction. He’s got one hand on his cane, the other shoving the door shut behind him as he limps toward his desk, guided by the bright moonlight spilling in from the muggy window. 

Your shoulders slump, huffing out a breath. “Seriously? You’re not even gonna greet me?” 

With his back turned to you, Kaz removes his hat and places it on the desk. He doesn’t look at you. “You’re in my room.” 

“Yeah—so I was actually thinking something more along the lines of hello,” you drone, lips pursed. “Y’know, that thing normal people say when they see their friends.” 

“We’re not friends.” 

A hand flies to your chest, as if struck by his words. “Um, ouch? Rude. For your sake, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.” 

Kaz tugs off his signature gloves and tosses them next to his hat. “I can always repeat it,” he says, so impassive you can’t tell if it’s a joke. 

Knowing Kaz, you’re pretty sure it’s not. 

You push up the rest of the way, scooting down to sit cross-legged at the end of his bed. It’s so much nicer than yours—the sheets softer, the mattress plusher, the smell so familiar and warm. 

If it were up to you, you’d sleep in here every night. 

And most nights, that’s exactly what you do. 

“Would it kill you to be nice sometimes?” you ask. 

“Not usually, no.” Kaz faces you, his weight leaned back against the desk, his cane propped against it. “But we both know you’re a special case.” 

“Is that a compliment?” 

“Not at all.” 

Your bottom lip juts into a pout. “Has anyone ever told you you’re an asshole?” 

Aside from the subtlest lift of his brows, Kaz’s expression remains vague and disinterested. “Regularly,” he deadpans, looking the image of austere melancholy. 

Your laugh comes so sudden it sounds like a snort. “I should’ve guessed,” you nod, forever unphased by Kaz’s forbidding attitude. 

This is the way things have always been between you. Ever since a surly twelve year old marched head-high into your father’s office to see if the Dregs needed a new grunt, oblivious to the girl beaming up at him from a lonely corner, weaving colorful scraps of thread into bracelets for the friends you’d yet to make. 

Kaz Brekker is dark and foreboding while you’re bright and bubbly; he’s rude and standoffish while you’re sweet and flirtatious. Some may liken your relationship to oil and water, but you prefer thinking of it as a carefully crafted balance—a yin and yang sort of thing. 

Kaz, on the other hand, would simply say you’re a thorn in his side. 

Fortunately for yourself, you’re not an easily offended thorn. 

The rickety floorboards creak as Kaz starts around the desk. His bare fingers trail along the varnished edge for support. His limp is always at its worst by this time of night, so you’re not surprised to see the flicker of relief that slips over him when he finally sinks into the chair. 

“Have you ever considered that maybe you work too hard?” Your voice teeters on the edge of concern, tracing idle shapes against the sheets with your nails. 

His answer is curt, and contradictory to the purple smudges beneath his eyes. “No.” 

Fumbling with his cufflinks—simple, unadorned things—Kaz rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. Afterwards, he flips open the thick ledger laid before him, plucking up a pen and dipping it into an awaiting pot of ink. 

Kaz keeps track of the Dregs expenses in his head—a skill you’ve always found most impressive, since you can hardly do a simple equation without scratch paper. Still, he keeps the physical record for the sake of having something to point to in case someone’s ever stupid enough to claim Dirtyhands flubbed the numbers. 

As he works, boredom quickly becomes a chip on your shoulder. 

Your legs unfurl, bare feet stretching toward the floor as you slip off the edge of the bed. Every step is purposeful, traipsing toward him with a look that’s not so unlike a cat readying to toy with its favorite mouse. 

“Maybe we should take a holiday,” you suggest, your voice a soft trill. 

One part of you expects to be ignored, the other to be shot down. 

He lands somewhere in the middle. 

“And go where? His eyes remain focused on the ledger, dark brows drawn tight in concentration. You envision numbers flashing before him, adding and subtracting at the steady pass of the nib scratching against parchment. 

“I don’t know. Ravka, maybe?” 

“Ravka?” It’s like the word tastes sour on his tongue. “Why?” 

You stop just short of his desk, an answer instantly rapping at your mind. You quickly replace it with one that’s far less tragic. “I wouldn’t mind seeing Nikolai Lantsov with my own eyes,” you drawl. “Nina says he’s quite the looker, y’know.” 

Kaz sits up a little straighter, shoulders pinned with newfound tension. 

“Of course he is.” He seems to press the nib down harder, his disinterested tone bordering close to resentful. “He’s a prince—looking pretty is all they’re good for.” 

Your head tilts. “Well, he’s actually a king now, so…” 

There’s the briefest falter in the smooth motion of his jotting wrist. “I’m not taking you to Ravka so you can seduce the Lantsov bastard.” 

“And why not?” You reach for the tip of his cane, still propped against the desk, skimming a finger over the crow’s head. “You think I can’t do it?” 

The pen keeps on scratching, accented by the dull hum of the Slat’s perpetual motion—doors slamming, voices cackling. Your ego grows larger for every second Kaz stays silent, your satisfaction settling into a feline smirk. 

Simply, yet firmly, Kaz eventually maintains, “We’re not going to Ravka.” 

Your exhale is something over dramatic, laden with feigned disappointment as you huff, “Fine!” Kaz never looks up, continuing with the ledger. 

Abandoning the crow’s head, you swipe one of Kaz’s abandoned gloves off the desk, fiddling with the smooth leather. Still recovering from their civil war, you imagine Ravka isn’t an ideal travel spot right now, anyway. Not unless someone has a morbid desire to tour the sites where Saints met their often-grisly ends, that is… Besides, for all Nina’s praise of the Lantsov king, you’ve never actually had a thing for blondes. 

And yet— 

“I really would like to go someday.” Your voice is hardly a whisper. Your other answer—tragic and rapping—crawls up your throat in a hoarse admission, “My mother was Ravkan.” 

That persistent scratching finally comes to a sudden halt. 

For the first time since he entered the room, Kaz looks up. There’s not a hint of pity in his eyes, though they gleam with solemn understanding. Your lips thin, pressing his glove tight to your chest. 

In the winter of your fourteen birthday, you snuck into your father’s office and stole a full bottle of kvas. Dressed in clothes too light for the frigid weather, you sped up the crooked stairs to Kaz’s attic-bedroom, pleading until he begrudgingly agreed to join you on the moonlit roof. For a boy who claimed such an aversion to you, he was always doing things you asked—even if he’d griped the whole time. You both gagged after the first sip of hard liquor. After an hour or so, the full bottle had dwindled to just a drop, your tongues seeming to move with more freedom. 

Neither of you had been prepared for the way the carbonated joy in your chests fizzled to something stagnant. 

I don’t like being alone, you told him, fiddling with the frayed strings tied around your wrist, the friendship bracelets no one ever wanted. If I’m alone, it means I’m thinking, and if I’m thinking, it means my mother won’t stop dying. 

You told him of the endless montage in your head. How at six years old, a walk along the Stave in your favorite winter coat ended with getting crushed beneath the weight of your mother’s last act of devotion, shielded by a body crumpled and crimson, shorn in the crossfire of unexpected gang violence. When you fell silent, Kaz drained the last drop of kvas and told you about a coffee shop near the Exchange. About a sickboat and a boy named Jordie, about a frosty harbor and an impossible swim that left him unable to bear the touch of another’s skin. 

When neither of you had any soul left to bear, Kaz chucked the bottle off the roof. You don’t remember hearing it shatter, and maybe it never did. Maybe it hit some hapless pigeon and fractured his skull. Maybe it ceased to exist the moment it went over the edge. The bottle didn’t matter. Not to you. Not when Kaz Brekker reached for your wrist, leather-clad fingers gently tugging the bracelets off your wrist. 

Don’t make a thing of this, he told you, stuffing them in his pocket. You’re still a pest.

But it was a thing. A strange, beautiful thing—and both of you knew it. 

“Fine.” Kaz’s voice—the rasp of stone on stone—drags you back to the present. He sits the pen down beside the ledger, a strand of black hair swaying with the subtle shake of his head. “We’ll go to Ravka. You’ll seduce some sorry prince and live happily ever after in a gaudy palace. I’ll make my fortune snagging the Lantsov Emerald and use it to hire a proper bookkeeper. Deal?” 

Your lips twitch, still hugging his glove to your chest. “King,” you correct him. 

His eyes roll, but a flicker of something warm betrays his affection. “Pest,” he calls you, though it doesn’t sound like much of an insult. 

“I imagine the Grand Palace has fine exterminators,” you muse. 

“Then I suppose your marriage will be short-lived.” 

“Will you save me, then?” Your heart leaps with the question, how it slips from your tongue before you can grasp it. 

Kaz hesitates. Then—remarkably—smiles. 

“Maybe.”

a/n - you know what they say. a bottle of kvas is never just a bottle of kvas, amirite

(☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

anyways, i was procrastinating an essay and thought "lets write something with a somewhat ambiguous ending!" and voila, a boy's first pest is the product. now everyone say: lainie, go work on your original writing and stop writing so much fan fiction! (but i'm already thinking of a kaz smut drabble so) anyways, comments and reblogs much appreciated, i cry with joy every time someone actively interacts with my work so THANK YOU

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove: A Zombie Ghost Story (Chapter Five)

Summary: He couldn’t stop thinking about eating her, of tasting her sweet, soft flesh and hot blood. He wanted to devour her, but not in the way he usually did his meals. He would consume her slowly, sniff and lick every inch of her skin before gently biting down. He’d start with her wrists, feel her pulse point flutter under his tongue before severing the artery so it sprayed her honeyed blood into his mouth. He’d keep her alive for as long as possible, not wanting to be parted from her. Perhaps he wouldn’t even have to kill her. Maybe he could satisfy himself with just a piece of her, just his pound of flesh… Word Count: 2792 Warnings: still no smut Notes: triple asterisk (***) denotes a POV change as usual, dash asterisk dash (-*-) is a time skip but not a POV change AO3, Masterlist

Ghost and his dove left the cabin the next day, early in the morning. It took some convincing on his part, in the form of pointed groans and growls, to get Lelia to step foot outside. But they were too close to the base she came from, and the cabin had no food left. They had to keep moving, to find somewhere better.

Ghost led her to the stream he’d bathed in yesterday, and they followed it several miles south. Lelia became jumpy the second they left, but when they got to the stream, she paled dramatically and wouldn’t get within three metres of it. He found it odd, but it's not like he could have asked even if he wanted to. She didn’t complain, but he could tell how much she wanted to turn around and go back to the cabin, where there was a relatively warm bed waiting for her. He couldn’t blame her—even with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her ballet flats swapped out for a proper pair of boots they’d found in the closet, she was still shivering from the chilly autumn wind. Winter was just around the corner, and its threatening presence loomed overhead like a knife, in the cloudiness of the skies and the way her breath misted in front of her face with every puff of air.

Eventually, the stream came to an end, and Ghost collected some water in the bucket before they continued. The trees were beginning to thin out, and he hoped that meant they were nearing some sort of town. Anywhere that he could find a little more food for his dove.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. The day ended before the woods did, and they were forced to stop when Lelia nearly collapsed from exhaustion. He felt guilty when he noticed just how ragged she looked—all she’d had to eat in the last few days was a can of beans, and she’d been walking nonstop since dawn. It was difficult for him to remember just how fragile humans were, especially when he’d never been a particularly delicate man himself, even when he was alive. But his dove wasn’t a trained, battle hardened operative—she was just a normal young girl, and he needed to treat her as such.

He groaned a quiet apology as he helped her set up a fire, once again handing her the matchbook to light it. She only broke one this time, which was quite the improvement. He added it to the flames as extra tinder.

“Do you sleep?” She asked him as the water boiled. He jerked his head to the left, then the right. “That must be nice. I wish I didn’t have to. Sleeping is more terrifying than being awake, most of the time.”

He’d heard her tossing and turning last night, had smelt her salty tears as she’d whimpered and begged someone named Andrew for mercy. Mercy it had sounded like she’d never gotten. He had wanted to comfort her, but he’d been certain his presence would have just made things worse. So he’d stayed outside her door and done the only thing he could to help her. Stood guard and kept her safe.

He did the same tonight. When the exhaustion finally got the better of her, despite the valiant fight she put up, he watched over her. But this time, when the nightmares came for her, there was no door separating them and hiding the terrified expression on her tear-stained face. So he moved closer, reaching out and clumsily twirling a lock of her hair around his stiff, cold fingers. He couldn’t feel the softness, but he could imagine it. Smooth like silk. Rare and desirable and beautiful, just like her. But with a hidden strength, too.

Soon enough, his dove settled down. He’d have liked to say he had something to do with it, but he knew that was just wishful thinking. Nonetheless, it took him quite a long while to finally let go of her loose, auburn curls and get back to his feet, returning to his self appointed role of her undead protector.

-*-

It took two more days to find a town.

Lelia could barely hold herself upright by the time they did, and Ghost would have offered to carry her—except that his instincts to feed were going haywire, having been denied too long, and every waft of her unique perfume made his mouth water. He’d given up on trying to wipe away his drool. It was no use. He couldn’t stop thinking about eating her, of tasting her sweet, soft flesh and hot blood. He wanted to devour her, but not in the way he usually did his meals. He would consume her slowly, sniff and lick every inch of her skin before gently biting down. He’d start with her wrists, feel her pulse point flutter under his tongue before severing the artery so it sprayed her honeyed blood in his mouth. He’d keep her alive for as long as possible, not wanting to be parted from her. Perhaps he wouldn’t even have to kill her. Maybe he could satisfy himself with just a piece of her, just his pound of flesh…

With a ferocious growl, Ghost suppressed the rising urge once again. He hurried Lelia into the first house they saw after clearing it, then put her in a room with a lock. He mimed the locking motion, then held out his hand, telling her to stay put. He pointed to himself, and then pointed back towards the front door, and prayed she would understand.

“You’re leaving?” She asked, sounding like she was on the edge of panic, even as she laid down on the bed, unable to stand any longer. “Where are you going? Are you— are you coming back?”

Ghost groaned pitifully, banging on the door. His dove jumped, and he nodded at her questions, but then pointed at the lock again, gesturing her over. Wide-eyed, she dragged herself out of bed, and he took several steps back as she approached. She looked at him in confusion, but he just grabbed the door and slammed it closed between them. He rattled the knob until she got the hint and locked it. This time, the groan he let out was one of approval and relief.

He fled the house and Lelia’s intoxicating scent quickly after that, retreating back into the woods to hunt. He was so hungry, so overwhelmed by the virus’s instincts, that he didn’t think he could stop himself from eating a human if he came across them. He hoped desperately that he didn’t, even though they tasted far better than the animals he usually fed on.

He was drooling at the thought, again. Fresh human… not just the scraps left by other zombies, like Lelia would have been had he not intervened. He imagined finding her torn apart, soft hair matted with blood, big brown eyes full of terror, frail limbs ripped off, empty stomach clawed open. It was horrid. It was what he would do to her if he went this long without feeding again.

He vowed then and there to never, ever let that happen.

***

Lelia startled at the knock on the door, slowly standing up from where she sat on the edge of the bed and crossing over to it.

“Simon?” She asked anxiously. “Is that you?”

A familiar sounding groan answered her, and she almost threw the door open in relief before she thought better of it. What if it was another zombie? She’d be dead, and Simon would come back to find her bloody, lifeless corpse. Possibly walking around. No, better safe than sorry.

“Knock three times, pause, and then knock twice more if it’s you,” she said. A few seconds passed, and then three slow knocks—bangs, really, Simon seemed to have trouble with his fine motor skills and so knocking was beyond him—a pause, and then two more bangs. Lelia waited a few more seconds to make sure nothing else was coming, and then she opened the door, letting out a sigh of relief as Simon’s milky eyes met hers—only to recoil in horror when she saw the fresh, red blood on his gear and around his mouth. There were bits of something Lelia was scared to know the name of stuck in his teeth, and instinctively, she took a step back. Simon did as well, giving her space and ducking his head. He almost looked… hurt? Or maybe ashamed… it was difficult to tell. She wasn't even really sure what the extent of his emotions were—did he feel the same way he could when he was alive? Or was it dulled? He was clearly capable of some feelings, otherwise there would be no reason for him to follow her around, protecting her. She still didn't understand why he did. Her best guess was pity, or maybe loneliness. Whatever it was, it kept her alive, and she was grateful.

“Did you… did you kill something?” She asked after a moment, swallowing nervously. Simon didn’t move or make a sound for a long moment, before he jerked his head up and down in a nod. His broken, bloody jaw quivered, teeth clacking against one another. Drool leaked out of his mouth, and Lelia had to fight the urge to wipe it away. It always seemed to bother Simon when he drooled, and once again, she wondered at his capacity to feel things like embarrassment or self-disgust. But she pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the question she desperately didn't want to ask but knew she had to. “Was it— human?”

Simon quickly shook his head, so quick the string of bloody drool flew off his face and landed on her jacket. Simon froze, and any doubt she had that he felt things as deeply as a human did disappeared at the utterly mortified sound he let out. It was between a groan and a gurgle, and he automatically reached for her as if to wipe it off, before realizing his gloves were covered in blood, too. His hands hovered over her chest as she blinked at the new stain on her shirt, too shocked to say anything. Just as she came to her senses and was about to assure Simon that it was alright—it was gross, yes, but so was her period, and that wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle—he turned around with surprising agility for someone whose muscles were in a permanent state of rigor mortis, and fled down the stairs.

***

He’d spit on her.

He’d showed up at her door looking like a murder scene, and then he’d spit on her like the snarling, rabid animal that he was.

He had never been so horrified in his undead life. He couldn't remember if that was the case for his actual life, but he’d bet on it if Johnny were here.

“Was pretty funny, mate, ye got tae admit.”

Ghost growled at the very Scottish sounding voice in his head. Whoever this Johnny was, he was a right arse.

He went straight into the downstairs toilet, turning on the tap. No water came out, as expected. He'd still had to try.

He turned to the towels instead. They were dusty and motheaten, but that didn't bother him. He wiped his face off as best he could, and then his gear and his gloves, pulling them off and stuffing them into one of his many pockets. The end result was… not great. The blood of the deer he'd killed and eaten had already started to dry, adding another stain to his gear and leaving a rusty brown hue to his colorless skin. He tried to pick tufts of flesh and fur from in between his teeth with his blunt, blackened nails, but he somehow only made things look worse. 

“Simon?”

The sound of his dove’s soft, concerned voice floated down the hallway, and Ghost panicked, slamming the door of the toilet shut so hard it rattled on its hinges. He heard Lelia’s heartbeat jump and her footsteps pause, before starting again in his direction.

“Simon?” She repeated, knocking softly on the door. He turned away from his ghastly reflection in the dirty mirror, paralyzed. He was acting ridiculous. He was a big, strong, undead soldier. He shouldn’t be terrified of a little dove like her. And yet he was. He was so bloody afraid that she’d tell him to leave, that she couldn't stand to be near him anymore. That he’d have to go back to protecting her from the shadows, an unwanted stray dog just following her around, desperate for any scrap of affection she would show him, but denied at every turn. It sounded miserable. It was miserable, but he would do it, to keep her safe. “Simon, will you come out, please?”

Unable to deny her, Ghost slowly opened the door. She stood on the other side with a worried expression, but all he could see was the drying string of crimson saliva on her smart pink jacket. He looked away, feeling ill.

“Are you alright?”

The soft, gentle question was entirely unexpected, but it shouldn't have been. Of course his dove would worry about the rabid, blood-covered zombie that just spit on her. She was an angel. It was why he had to keep her safe, keep her alive. The world needed people like her, now more than ever.

Ghost jerked his head up and down in a nod after a moment of hesitation, and then patted his chest, right over the spot where he’d spit on hers. He let out a quiet groan of apology, unable to meet her pretty brown eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lelia said, giving him a small smile. “This outfit was ruined far before that… besides, it’s not very practical for the apocalypse. My hus— I wanted to keep myself pretty. Clinging to a bit of the old world, I suppose. But I’m not on the base anymore. And trekking through the woods for days on end in a skirt is not easy.”

Ghost noticed the slip. It had sounded like she’d been about to say husband before she’d cut herself off. His eyes flickered to her left hand, but no ring sat upon her finger. Had he misheard? And why did the idea of her being married bother him so much?

You know why.

He ignored the thought, focusing back on her words. He grunted in agreement, and made a mental note to look for some clothes that would fit her—ones that would help keep her warm in the coming months. She was far too thin—she would need multiple layers if he was going to keep her from dying of exposure in the dead of winter.

An awkward silence fell between them, and Ghost could tell his dove wanted to ask him a question. He waited her out, and just as he knew she would, she broke first.

“So you—you went out to eat?” She asked, then winced. “I mean— earlier, when you were— were acting all… frustrated. You were… hungry?”

Ghost swallowed reflexively, tasting deer meat in the back of his throat. Slowly, he nodded, trying subtly to hold his jaw in place. Lelia looked nervous again, but also determined.

“How hungry?”

Ghost looked away, ashamed. He didn’t want to think about the overwhelming desire he’d had to sink his teeth into her supple flesh, or the vivid, blood-soaked images his virus-laden mind had conjured of him doing so.

Lelia sucked in a small, sharp breath, and her voice shook slightly when she spoke again—but there was bravery in it, too. A certainty. Like she’d made up her mind and couldn’t be swayed.

“We’ll just have to make sure you stay well fed, then,” she stated simply. “Then you won’t be tempted to snack on me… right?”

Ghost didn’t know how to explain that he was always tempted to snack on her, that her scent was the most delicious thing he’d ever smelled, that he wanted to see if her blood would warm him from the inside like a good whiskey. He didn’t know how to say that despite that, he would never harm a hair on her head, not for as long as he lived. Unlived. Bloody semantics.

So instead, he just grunted in agreement. He would always be tempted, but so long as he remained satiated, he would be able to keep his instincts in check. That was what she really wanted to know.

“Good,” she replied, sounding relieved. She offered him another smile, smaller than he would’ve liked but still just as sweet. “But you’re not the only one that’s hungry. Do you think there’s any food hidden in the cabinets?”

[mistfalldruid]

𝕸𝖞 𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖒𝖞 𝖎𝖘 𝖒𝖞 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗

Alexander Anderson x Alucard

Nasty horny HCs because I'm an Andercard truther and it's midnight

During sex, Alucard has to practically restrain himself from biting Anderson like a mad man.

Anderson will act all pissed when bit but he secretly gets off to it.

There have been several instances where Alucard has attempted to carve his name into Anderson's thigh.

Once Alucard got pissed at Anderson and shoved his gun into the priest's mouth, Anderson ended up with a killer boner.

Despite being in an established relationship they still fight, it doesn't last long because they just start making out. (Alucard's fault)

Alucard has special vampire stamina which allows him to fuck for HOURS

Anderson can go a solid three rounds before losing his ability to stay on top of Alucard.

After times where they fuck for hours Alucard actually does try his hardest to give proper aftercare.

Aftercare with Alucard includes being toweled off by a warm wash cloth and then swaddled in blankets before being locked into a looooong cuddle session.

On days that Anderson stays topping, he ends it pretty quickly and has some pretty killer aftercare routines.

Anderson's preferred aftercare routine is a nice warm bath followed by comfy clothes and a nice hot meal to fill yourself afterwards.

In the end both of these beasts clean each other and care for eachother even if they're intense.

[fandxmslxt69]

Anything For You

Jake Lockley x f!reader

Warnings: Absolutely none, Jake Lockley is just a big fat cinnamon roll he is just so <3

A/N: Hi this was kind of self indulgent and written in like an hour or two to help feel better after school has officially ended. But it's also a little love note to @melodygatesauthor because Mel you're so special and our convo about this favourite boy made me think and you deserve a special treat because you're the specialest girl (Jake's words!! he has even confirmed it)

-Clem

Synopsis: Jake Lockley always takes care of his favourite girl.

Word count: 1336 (ahhh)

You shuffled into the lightly lit apartment, quietly closing the door behind you. You dropped your bag, rubbing your face as a yawn broke out of you and your shoulders sagged in exhaustion. There was no one to witness your tiredness but the moon as it peeked through the windows.

"Amor?" Jake's sleepy voice came, and soon he emerged from the bedroom, a soft sleepy smile on his face. "Thought I heard you," You smiled weakly. "Hi, didn't mean to wake you-" You started before he waved you off, wrapping an arm about you. "It's alright, amor. I was staying up but I didn't realise you were coming home so late," He kisses the top of your head, and immediately you melted into him, feeling the exhaustion and pain of the past few weeks bubble up and nearly spill over. Your eyes filled with tears but you were quick to press your face to Jake's chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist as you breathed him in. He grounded you, all three of them always did- whether from an epic night out or a really bad day, they always helped bring you home.

Jake frowned, hugging you back tightly. "Bebita? What's wrong?" You shook your head. "I'm tired, Jake. I'm so fucking tired of everything," If you only listened close enough, you could hear his heart squeeze and shattered at your words. You were almost fragile, your voice heavy with worries and problems and you looked ready to collapse. He didn't like seeing his girl hurting so much. "Oh amor..." He pressed his lips to your head, gently rubbing your back. "Mi poor princesa. You've been working so hard haven't you? Coming home late every night and leaving so early, when was the last time you had a good sleep, mm? Or a proper meal?" You shrugged, too tired to answer. Didn't matter, he knew. He gently squeezed your hips, then hooked a finger under your chin and lifted it up to face him. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and for a second, your mind emptied of everything- everything but him and you in this moment, lips locked together in such a soft, delicate kiss it made you ache. You missed him. He pulled away, peppering small kisses all over your face. "I'm going to take care of you, okay bebita? You're going to relax and let me make you feel better, sí?" You nodded, "Okay..." He nodded too, sweeping you off your feet and into his arms as he carried you to the bathroom. "I'm gonna run you a bath, okay? And you're gonna sit in there and relax for at least an hour to yourself, while I make you something to eat. And then, we're going to sleep, and you're going to take the day off tomorrow," He stated as if all matters were already decided and sealed. He placed you down on the side of the tub when you reached the bathroom and turned on the hot water. "But- I have work tomorrow." "Like I said, take the day off," "I can't just do that," You frowned. He shook his head as he rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out your nice smelling candles and your favourite body oils and creams. "If you don't call them, I'm going to," "You wouldn't," He turned to you, grinning widely. "Sí, I would. And if I forget- which I won't- then Steven will. Or Marc. You don't want Marc to call them, would you?" That was an easy answer. Marc always get too angry if someone tried to deny you the day off. You nodded, sighing in defeat. "Okay. Day off tomorrow. Will you stay with me then?" He chuckled, kissing your temple. "Of course, princesa. Always," He smiled. "Now, off with the clothes," "Very demanding.." You teased, lifting your shirt over your head, followed by your pants, and then underclothes. He lifted you up, placing you very dramatically in the now full tub, and placing an equally dramatic kiss on your forehead. "I'm gonna wash your hair, bien? And then you can sit and relax until you want to come out," He knelt by the tub, smiling like the most precious man in the world as he squeezed out some shampoo into his hands and started carefully lathering it in your hair. You sigh in relief, feeling the tension slowly drift away as your body relaxes under his touch. Your mind began wandering as your eyes flutter shut while Jake rinses out your hair, humming quietly to himself. A while passed as he took care of you, giving you the treatment he always excelled at- pampering and devoting his full attention to every part of your body. He massaged your back and shoulders, working on the tense knots and helping melt away all the tension left in your body. You hadn't realised that you'd drifted in sleep until you felt him get up from beside you, and your body lost the warmth of his contact. "Where ya going'?" You mumbled, barely lifting your eyelids. He chuckled, "Goin' to make you some food, mi luna," He gave you a quick kiss on the lips. "You can come out when you're ready, bien? If not, I'll come find you when food is done," You giggled, sinking a little more into the water. "Okay...thank you, by the way it mea-" "Shhhhh," He pressed a finger to your lips. "Don't even start. Princesa you don't have to thank me for taking care of you, si? You're my girl, hm? I like taking care

don't make it sound like it's a burden," You kissed his finger, smiling a bit. "Okay. I love you," "I love you too, amor," He said, winking and then leaving the bathroom. You sighed, relaxing back into the warm water as your mind drifted back into a quiet hazy sleep.

You weren't sure how long passed before your eyes fluttered open again, your mind scrambling to get aware of its surroundings again. You yawned, slowly getting up and stretching out the fatigue. You had no idea how long you'd been in there, or if Jake had even come back to check up on you, but it didn't matter. You felt better, and that was that. You grabbed a towel, wrapping it around yourself as you stepped out of the tub and starting to dry yourself off. You hung the towel once done and put your hair up in its special towel, before pulling on your clothes. Well.. not your clothes, but Steven's comfy sweater and little shorts under. You waddle out of the bathroom, very slowly dragging yourself to the kitchen where you find Jake, in all his beautiful gorgeous glory, in a cute apron making a couple of sandwiches. You can't help but chuckle as you rush up to him, wrapping your arms around him from behind and pressing your face to his back. He stiffens at the sudden contact before relaxing when he realises it's you. "Hi bebita. Nice nap?" "Shut up, Lockley," You mumbled. He laughed as he finished off the food he made, smiling proudly to himself. He turned his body to face you, rubbing your sides gently. "Wanna watch a movie?" You shrugged. "Dunno," He hummed. "Bien, we can just eat and sit in silence," He kissed your forehead for what had to be the millionth time, before grabbing the tray of food and leading you to the couch. You sat down in Jake's lap, curling up as he wrapped a big cozy blanket around you.

You sat together in peaceful silence as you ate, watching some horrible National Geographic animal documentary and before long, the endless weeks started catching up to you as your eyelids grew heavy and you rested your head on Jake's chest, feeling his arms wrap tighter around you.

There was no doubting, you thought as you fell into a peaceful sleep, you knew your boys would do anything for you.

[hals-homo-blog]

what are your thoughts on the other freemans? like gorgeous and feetman ?

I like them all for the most part!! I need to keep researching for some of them, like actually watching Gorgeous Freeman past the first 2 minutes of ep1.

Feetman, I like as a character, but I think I might kick him in the shins if I was in the same room as him, he's kinna loud and fritzy. I really like how, like, caring/paternal he gets what with Joshua and Tommy and even Coomer sometimes. It's just a really charming and endearing character trait.

Gorgeous frightens me, I would hide under the bed from him, I think. I like the fandom interpretations of him a lot, I think he's become such a fun character, but I will still be hiding under the bed thanks. I think everyone who draws him looking kind of like Markiplier is objectively correct.

OG-man is such a funny creature, I love him so much, I think he deserves the world. He deserves to have a good hot meal, and a nice hot bubble bath, and the longest coziest sleep known to God or man. That said, he's very intimidating with that stern, almost angry resting face he has. I think if he looked at me like that I might disintegrate into dust like a Thanos Snap.

There are other Freemans or Freemen too, like the Google Translate one and a speed running one and the one that wants to save all the scientists, and I will eventually learn all about them and form proper opinions on them in time.

For now, all I really know is that everyone thinks the Google Translate one, Cicero, is baby, and as far as fandom absorption of content goes, I agree. He seems like a funny little fella who is very nice. I think we would have a really nice time chatting together and neither of us would know what the hell the other was talking about, but we'd have a nice time regardless. I look at THIS drawing of him in particular from junkbrainz and I'm like:

I dunno anything about the Speed Running one, I forget his name, probably Speedman or something, but I like to think that in a Freemanverse context that he and I/Hal would be very roadrunner/coyote-esque. Especially considering that Hal operates on cartoon physics, I think it would make a super funny background gag if Hal was just setting up these goofy-ass ACME type traps to try to catch Speedman or make him sit still lol.

I find it funny how intimidated I am by these objectively un-intimidating Freemen (OG mostly and Gorgeous, kind of) when by far the meanest, loudest, angriest and most violent Freeman is my beloved pookie-bookie sweetie pie. lmao. I relate so much to Freemind, I love him, I need to smooch him and hold him close tbh. He's so right about everything and all of his opinions on things are correct. I think most of all I relate to like, this ongoing struggle he has where "Everyone is an incompetent idiot but me, and my life is so much harder than it has to be because everyone is being actively stupid." ESPECIALLY AT WORK LMAO.

[tewwor]

♨️ nana higu shoko <3

send ♨️ to join my muse in some hot springs ( accepting ) — @koseigu

At first, three days felt like a stretch; a little too long from everyone's respective day to day duties. As three diehard workaholics, such reservations wasn't seen as uncommon either. Except ... the number of days didn't change. No, Kento booked that reservation in the end. Bested that blip of uncertainty as an act of kindness for them all.

They've worked hard enough for far too long, haven't they? Done their due diligence time and time again. Reaped exactly what they sowed and more. Three measly days away won't kill them. Especially when compared to ... well, he'd rather not linger on those fine, gruesome details for too long.

By the end of day one, Kento knew the timeframe was perfect. He'd been right to tack on an additional day for a proper long getaway. Fully separate the three of them from a large portion of the world to recuperate and relax in the private onsen, in and around one another ... luxuriate as much as each of them have wanted, but could never bring themselves to see through.

Second morning in and he, himself, has grown to be more accustomed with the change of pace. Nearly molasses slow compared to the breakneck speed when stationed in the heart of Tokyo. Here, he's able to drag his feet a little more ( metaphorically, of course, his posture is kept proper ). Actually stay in bed past dawn and keep all manner of styling products out of his hair. There's no need to fuss over three square meals for all three of them ( though he does miss the prep work and catharsis found in cooking himself ).

It's ... nice. Well deserved, certainly, but nice.

With only a small towel beneath him, Kento eases his legs into calm waters. There's only so much he can soak for so long. What with the healed scars and grafted skin. Yes, it would feel blissfully good to fully submerge himself, but he'd rather not deal with the aftereffects when running on such precious time. So, instead, he settles at the bath's edge. Spares a long moment to look out at the distant horizon. Really take it in without a hint of tension in hatchwork of his body. The newer marks, though ... those are worn with a sense of pride. Hard not to be when acquired by the very mouths and hands that approach him now.

"Water all clear?" A voice inquires off to the side, admiration warmed amusement prevalent long before Hiromi's within reach.

"The water's all clear," Kento confirms, smiling up at his pair of partners. "At just the right temperature of scalding, too."

An affirming hum tumbles forth as the brunet shuffles Shoko and himself forward a bit more. Unglues himself from her backside in effort to help her down the steps before promptly following after. Honestly, it's a miracle that they made it this far without testing every single surface available. For now. There's still time for all three of them to share such thorough inspection later.

A gasp ( comically overdramatic ) tears from such a horrendously stoic face as Hiromi wades lower. He's bundled himself back at their doctor's side, but looks up and up at the youngest of their merry trio. "I know they advertised a 'once in a lifetime' view here, but I think this can give them a run for their money. Don't you think, Sho-chan?" Said view being none other than the loose spread of solid thighs before them.

Kento, in turn, loosens a quiet huff. "Are you implying that this should be advertised online instead?" An idle gesture to his own legs and slow quirk of brow follows.

There's an immediate shake of dark hair as the pair floats closer and closer. Until they dock just shy of each bent knee. "Absolutely not," Hiromi's quick to decline, "but it is such a wonderful thing to see.. have the privilege to feel firsthand." And speaking of hand, one of the newfound sorcerer's own rises from steaming water. Slithers along the shin to cup around the outer thigh. Barely any pressure's placed, but more space is provided by the blond by choice. Another scandalized gasp pulls from that impassive face again. "How forward of you, young man." Faux chastisement, of course — all while those sharp eyes rove over every single inch of exposed skin. "But if you insist..."

And Kento does. He really does. How can he not when being looked at like that? Like he's the set kaiseki they'd all partake in later? Again, his legs spread further and are immediately greeted by both pairs of hands. Appreciated by differing sets of lips further and further along the landscape of inner thighs ...

Yeah, three days was definitely the right call.

[beaconfeels]

WIP Wednesday

The marvelous @lucky-bishop tagged me this week. Thank you!! I’m going a bit niche with this one, and posting from a shorter Deter fic I’ve been working on. It’s season one, and when Peter disappears from the hospital, Derek assumes hunters finally got him, but Peter comes to find Derek and takes him back to the house he’s been staying in.

“Stew’s almost warm,” Peter says. “Come sit at the table.”

Derek’s physical healing abilities mean he no longer feels wobbly as he makes his way toward the kitchen, following Peter’s heartbeat, but his insides are still chaos.

There’s a round table in the open space beside the kitchen, rich dark wood gleaming under a softly glowing light. He sits down on a chair and watches the muscles move under Peter’s shirt as he spoons stew into two separate bowls. It feels familiar and utterly foreign at the same time.

“Here,” Peter says, setting a bowl down in front of him before sitting down himself.

“Thank you,” Derek says, the words feeling strange in his mouth.

The stew is delicious. Full of hearty vegetables and the gamey goodness of venison. He knows he’s eating at an impolite speed, but it’s been too long since he’s eaten a good meal.

“You haven’t been eating enough,” Peter says. It’s an observation, not a question.

“I get enough,” Derek argues.

Peter just tuts, and pushes his own bowl in front of Derek when Derek finishes his.

Derek protests, but Peter rolls his eyes. “There’s plenty more food, pup. Eat up.”

Peter goes back to the kitchen and comes back with a thick slice of bread slathered in butter, and makes Derek eat that too.

Not that it’s a hardship. He suddenly feels like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.

Peter doesn’t get any more food for himself, just sits and silently watches Derek eat. It should bother him, but he likes having his uncle’s eyes on him again. If Peter is watching him, then he’s safe.

“I know you have questions,” Peter says once the food has been eaten and the dishes put in the sink, “but they can wait for one more night, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” Derek answers honestly. “I don’t feel like I know anything right now.”

“Then how about you let me decide, hmm? Just for now?”

“Okay.” If he has his way he’ll let Peter decide forever. He’s so tired of thinking. So tired of everything.

“When’s the last time you had a proper shower?” Peter asks.

”I don’t- I don’t know?” He’s been bathing in the creek at the back of the property for awhile now. It’s hard to keep track of time. Everything has been fear and instinct.

“Poor boy,” Peter purrs. He’s behind Derek now, combing his fingers through his hair. “I think you should take a nice, hot shower.” There’s a pause and then, “Do you need help?”

It’s such a stupid question. He’s a grown man. Of course he doesn’t need help in the shower. But Peter knows that too, doesn’t he. Maybe he can say yes even though he doesn’t really need help.

“Yes?” He can’t quite keep the question out of his voice.

Peter nods as if he expected as much. “The bathroom is that last door down the hall. Run along and get undressed, I’ll be there in a minute.”

[writingwhimsey]

All's Fair In Love & War- Nobunaga Ch. 21

Chapter 21

It was only a couple of days later, I was in the garden after a council, doing some exercises with my shoulder. The wound had closed up and now it was all about trying to get full range of motion back. I had a practice sword in hand, swinging it around. Yes, I was right-handed, but typically my sword required both arms, not to mention I liked to be able to use my left should my right arm become injured in some way.

I needed to get my arm back up to full strength. We were planning to start the next campaign in Nobunaga’s unification. We would be heading out in two weeks and I needed to be at my best so I could fight at his side.

“Need a sparring partner?”

I turned as I saw Masamune coming out of the castle. “Sure.” I answered. “If you can keep up that is.”

“Oh, a confident lass.” Masamune said with a grin. “Don’t worry I’ll have you and your arm trained back up in no time.”

“Of course, I’m confident. I take names and kick ass.” I replied, grinning.

Masamune grinned as he grabbed an extra practice sword and came to stand across from me. “You know, I’ve seen you in action and I have to say I have been hoping to squeeze in a match with you.” He was then charging at me.

I blocked the blow and with effort pushed him back. We continued our sparring match, both of us attacking, blocking, and redirecting, but neither of us able to land a blow on the other. My shoulder was aching and burning while I stood panting and sweating. Masamune was definitely a tougher opponent than most I had faced. It was a rather nice challenge. Granted I was probably pushing myself farther than I should have, but I needed to be at my best.

“Looks like we’ve drawn a crowd.” Masamune said with a chuckle as he stood across from me panting and sweating as well.

I glanced over and saw my vassals as well as Nobunaga and the others all watching us. Though that quick glance was all I could spare as I knew if I did more, Masamune would charge at me once more, trying to take advantage of the distraction. We were soon coming to blows once again, our practice swords locked. I could feel my left arm beginning to tremble with the effort, but I wouldn’t yield.

Just then Hideyoshi was running out in the middle of us along with Jiro and my doctor. “I think that’s enough you two.” Hideyoshi said, wrenching our practice swords apart.

“Yes, I think you’ve worked yourself enough, my lord.” Jiro said.

“It is important to not overdo it, my lord.” My doctor added.

“You’re…all a…bunch…of mother hens…” I said between panting breaths.

“I wasn’t actually…gonna hurt the lass…” Masamune agreed.

I was glad that my practice sword was in my right hand. My left arm was shaking from the exertion. “It’s not going to…improve if I just don’t use…it.” I said. “I have to…move it to… build the muscles back…up.”

“You still don’t need to overdo it, my lord.” Jiro told me.

“The wound has only just now closed up.” My doctor reminded me.

“You’re nuts if you think overdoing it is going to make you better.” Ieyasu said.

“I’m fine.” I countered, not wanting to listen. “It’s my body. I know what I’m capable of.”

“Look, you guys know nothing can keep our lord down.” Sato said, as she came over to join the crowd. “But clearly this match has come to an end, so you both may as well go and get freshened up. Weren’t you planning to make dinner for everyone, Lord Masamune?”

“Yeah, still have to make sure I’m making some hearty meals for your lord.” Masamune said with a grin.

I let out a sigh. “A break won’t hurt, I suppose.”

“I’ll have the maids draw you a nice warm bath.” Sato said.

“You know, a trip to the hot springs wouldn’t hurt.” The castle doctor said. “I recommend it as part of your treatment. Especially if you go to the crimson springs.”

“Crimson Springs?” Nobunaga asked as he had come over, standing next to me.

“Oh, yes we have some hot springs that have naturally red waters.” I explained. 

“Yes and they have even greater healing and restorative properties than the usual hot springs.” Sato said. “Which I believe our good doctor has a point.”

I had to admit, a dip in the hot springs sounded quite nice. “A trip to visit a new hotspring would be nice.” Nobunaga said. “And a good way to rest before we start our next move.”

And a good place for us to make our next move in this relationship. I thought, though I turned to Nobunaga with a cheeky grin. “And who says I was going to invite you?”

“I thought you might need a pillow and blanket.” Nobunaga replied, grinning at me as he wrapped his arms around me, clearly not caring about how sweaty I was…or that the others were around us.

“Hmm, I suppose you can come then.” I replied, smiling at him. If he didn’t care, then I don’t care either.

Masamune let out a whistle. “I never stood a chance.”  He said with a chuckle.

“I’ll make the arrangements, my lord.” Jiro said.

Two days later…

I finished packing up the things I would need for my trip to the Crimson Springs with Nobunaga. We would only be staying about three days, but I still wanted to make sure I had enough. Sato had insisted on helping me pack…and she insisted I pack my thinnest and most revealing night robe.

After I had finished packing, I was walking out the front entrance of the castle. Nobunaga was already waiting for me by the gate…with only his horse. Mine was nowhere to be found. “Are you ready to go, Ava?” He asked, a smirk on his face.

“Yes…but where is my horse?” I asked.

“I thought it would be more efficient if we rode together.” Nobunaga answered. “Do you have a problem with that arrangement?”

Have a problem with being on a horse with Nobunaga? Sitting against him and our bodies constantly knocking together as we rode? Nope, I saw no problems with that. “Not a one.” I answered, smiling.

Nobunaga grinned as he hopped on the back of the horse before offering me his hand. “Then let us be on our way.”

I placed my hand in his and allowed him to help me up into the saddle in front of him. His arms came around me as he picked up the reins. He was then placing a kiss on the nape of my neck, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “Your plan is to make it difficult to even last to the inn, isn’t it?” I asked him, a teasing tone in my voice.

Nobunaga chuckled in my ear. “Of course.” He answered. “I did promise you all night once you were healed up enough for that…and that starts now.” He was then nipping at my ear.

“O-oh?” I replied, turning to give him a coy smile despite my reddening cheeks. “Are you planning for all three nights?” I asked, unable to help myself.

“Perhaps.” Nobunaga replied, grinning devilishly at me.

“Then…we should get going.”

Nobunaga chuckled, kissing my neck once again before snapping the reins and we were off.

What we weren’t aware of, was the others standing at the castle entrance as they had come to see us off. “Well, they looked rather cozy.” Mitsuhide said, that cheshire grin on his face.

“They’ve been quite cozy for a while.” Sato said, sharing his grin.

“Never thought I’d see the day Nobunaga was like that.” Masamune said, wearing his own grin.

“I never thought I’d see the day Lord Ava willingly got on a horse with a man like that.” Jiro said. “Not even when she’s been seriously injured has she done that.”

“Pretty sure that’s just preview of the ride she’s gonna be on later.” Sato said with a laugh.

Masamune and Mitsuhide were both laughing along with Sato at her comment. Jiro and Hideyoshi both glared at the three of them. “Why…why must you always go there?” Jiro asked.

“What is wrong with you three?” Hideyoshi scolded. “Those are our lords…”

“Oh, we’re all just happy for them.” Sato said, grinning. “They both look happy and excited to get to enjoy some alone time together and relax before we dive into more craziness.”

“Yes, we must all take happiness where we can.” Mitsuhide agreed.

“Especially those two.” Masamune spoke up.

Jiro and Hideyoshi both just sighed. The others were right…but still it felt disrespectful to talk about their lords like that!

[writteninscarlet]

all the boring headcanons. part one

the morning night morning wake-up routine

wanda doesn't have a set schedule because for some reason the end of the world never arrives on time or calls ahead. and villains always seem to have the worst habit of choosing the most inopportune times. some weeks she's nocturnal, other weeks she has a more 'normal pattern'.

when she sleeps during the night, she's usually up by dawn. she's a light sleeper. she likes yoga at dawn and that tends to get her awake. she might eat breakfast if she feels like it - cereal, fruit, toast... something to provide a little bit of energy, alongside hot tea or coffee. if she wakes up at night, she'll probably have the same thing and try to start with yoga, too, but she prefers sunrise yoga to sunset yoga.

she's a fairly 'morning' person in the sense she doesn't require coffee to function and won't bite your head off if you talk to her first thing. probably.

if you're sharing the bed with her, she can sometimes enjoy morning cuddles. it's nice, it's comforting. and fun. if she's awake first she might just let you sleep - get the coffee on or something. if that's the case, beware that she'll probably throw your shirt and pad around bare foot in just that.

she doesn't tend to take long getting dressed in the morning. magic is helpful that way. she's moved on from having solely red clothes, but most of her clothes and colours are still red or white or plain in a way so it's easy to throw things together and have them match. she likes to shower in the morning to help her wake up but she usually makes sure her hygiene is good enough that she won't feel horrendous if she doesn't shower first, and bathes or showers later in the day.

food time

has she bored you to death about being veggie? i'll keep mentioning it. she wasn't vegetarian as a kid or a young teen as she had to eat whatever they could afford or find or steal. when she could start making her own choices, she chose to go vegetarian. she'll still eat fish on rare occasion, and she's not vegan so milk and cheese, etc, is still all good. she's not the world's best cook, but can make edible and fairly tasty food. she likes trying new things and will cook them for others. if they eat meat, she's happy to cook certain recipes for them. chicken she is sometimes wary off as that needs to be cooked right and honestly she's not always entirely sure about it.

she has days where she eats two or three square meals a day (mid-day is normally something very small, with fruit/cereal/toast or something for breakfast, she'll eat something proper at night). she sometimes has take-aways, sometimes cooks for herself, sometimes has a prepared meal.

there are days she doesn't eat any square meal and maybe just snacks. that's usually days with the scarlet witch in full force where the fighting or travelling or research consumes the whole time, and use of her magic will often drain her to the point that when it's over that day or after however long, she might need a full day in bed. she tries not to let it get that far. she's spent full days in bed from depression before and doesn't like feeling that way, even if it's a purely physical reaction.

she sometimes likes to snack. she can be adventurous, but not always with her food.

she likes going out for a meal or staying in for a meal as a first/early date - it's better than the movies or something, because you can talk and learn about one another (see how they speak to wait staff, knowing what they suggest to eat tells you something about them, you can do something before or after etc)

time to travel

wanda loves travelling. it doesn't have to be for a purpose, it can be simply for the sake of travelling.

as a young girl with adoptive, romani parents they travelled constantly (to keep up with ages etc, this was probably around the 80s/90s but they still travelled very traditionally). she enjoyed seeing new places. travelling with pietro afterwards wasn't as enjoyable, except for moments of calm and learning about her brother. they were chased from place to place (because they were mutants, romani, looked different, she was a witch, etc). it was after this she was happy to settle with the brotherhood and then avengers to have a 'stable' home, a place to return to.

but she still loves travel and would want to see more of the world. she enjoys going back to europe and tries to make a trip purely for leisure/pleasure once a year, a different part of the continent each time. it can be tough returning to serbia and romania and the countries she travelled as a child because they have changed so much. she has travelled to other continents and would like to go there as well, learn about current and ancient culture.

she can travel via magic, but when going out with the avengers it's obviously the jet or some other means. she doesn't get motion sickness or anything which is nice. she's sometimes helped others through theirs with her magic. she enjoys flying, portals are convenient but she actual likes the feel of travelling

she likes cars, trains, etc, too, but not buses - too crowded. she can understand luxury too when it comes to vehicles, and whilst she doesn't need the big luxury thing she sometimes likes it.

[a-girl-named-angel]

Though she was considerably worried for Vincent’s safety, she decided to push her worries aside. For now at least. She would wait till she saw proof that her worries were true for her to truly panic.

For now, Angel had to stay positive, letting the prospect of what awaited just inside distract her.

“I’d like that a lot.” She said, holding his hand and following him into the inn. Of course while she enjoyed his outdoor meals it was a far cry from the hunting she’d have to do otherwise, she had heard of the cafe he and his father ran for a short time, and was curious to know what sort of dishes he could make if given the proper kitchen.

But for now, the warm stew and fresh bread would have to do (but given how quickly Angel scarfed it down, that was hardly a complaint).

After eating her full, Angel would discuss payments with the inn’s owner. As previously mentioned by Vincent, a discount was given to the traveling duo for his help around the inn. And for that, Angel was able to keep some of the money she had earned that day.

A nice hot bath was just what Angel needed after a longs days work. She would’ve stayed longer had she remembered that there was a nice comfortable bed waiting for her.

Dressed in her nightgown, Angel would make her way back to their 2 bedded room where she would happily collapse onto the bed she chose. Letting out a delighted sigh as she let her body relax.

‘No transformations tonight!’ She thought with a big smile on her lips. For a moment, all her worries had seemingly floated away. And the only remaining thought that lingered on her mind was:

‘I hope Vincent feels better soon…’

Though her body ached from the hard labor and intense focus she needed for her magic, seeing her friend’s face made it all worth it in the end.

But then she smelt it.

In the moment that should’ve ended with her giggling and playfully moving his hand away, she smelt an all too familiar scent.

Blood. Not recent. But he was hurt.

Even before that night, Angel was all too familiar with the smell. Living in nature could be a gruesome place after all.

‘Maybe it was from the chores he was doing…’ she thought. However it was more so to convince herself things weren’t as bad as they were.

Masking her own worry with a feint smile, Angel let him wipe off the lingering dirt on her face.

“Thanks, I almost forgot how dirty farm life can get.” She said before pulling out her coin pouch which was now much fuller.

“But hey, I’ve made enough for us to really relax tonight. Get a hot meal and clean up a bit before bed.” Her smile grew slightly, hoping that the news would at least help him out of whatever was troubling him.

[shibainu2006]

Hey, Shiba!! Been a while, buuuut I’m back to bother you with a request! How about Leona, Ace, and Ruggie with an S/O who copes with their shit mental health via energy drinks, coffee and escapism?

They’re always reading and listening to music and daydreaming almost 24/7. They drink water, like, once every 2 weeks (if they feel like self-care) and they rarely ever actually eat or sleep because they feel like they actually have control for once in their life. They also have periods where they drop everyone and it’s near impossible to get ahold of them unless you into their room.

Author's note: If you don't fucking take care of yourself, I'm gonna burn this entire planet into a crisp with you on it. GO DRINK SOME GODDAMN WATER!

Leona Kingscholar

Herbivore... why..?

He doesn't understand why it's so hard for you to take care of yourself, but he has no qualms with either forcing you, doing it himself, or making Ruggie do it.

He let you have coffee in the morning, but after that, you're done.

You're forced to drink water for the rest of the day.

No, you cannot have an energy drink. You abused that privilege.

When you read, he likes to recommend books to you, and he'll even try to find books with uplifting messages to try and make you feel better.

He's not too good with emotions, but he does try his hardest to make sure you're alright.

He'll even cuddle you while you listen to music, and allow you to relax and daydream.

You've been forced to eat and sleep, by the way.

No late nights.

No skipping meals...

You take care of yourself properly, even if he has to make you.

He'll have Ruggie bring in a nice meal for you.

And definitely bring melatonin or sleepy time tea to make sure you get proper rest.

He'll steal you from your class for a nap, too, if he finds that you didn't sleep the night before.

The second you cut the world off, he'll give you time, but eventually he WILL come see you.

Leona knows how hard it is to actually get a hold of you, so he'll just go to you himself.

You only get a solid day to yourself before he shows up to make sure you're healthy.

Leona cares very deeply for you, so don't ever go thinking you can just stop caring for yourself.

Ace Trappola

Dude, you cannot be serious!

Ace is so done.

The second he found out, he was right at your door with a hot meal and water.

Ace will literally hold you down to make you sleep. He will not allow you to go without for even a second!

He even goes as far as to do your school work for you so you can rest.

He'll let you have your music and books.

He'll take you out to the library to read there, too, so you can't cut the world off.

Ace don't play those games.

He'll pester you about your caffeine intake, and if that doesn't work, then he'll just hide it all from you.

No more coffee

No more redbull

Only water and tea.

He'll search up actual good coping skills and give you a horribly written list of things that are far better than what you're doing.

He even offers you a listening ear.

He'll listen to your rant for as long as needed if it'll help you out.

He just wants to make sure you're okay

Ruggie Bucchi

Oh hell no.

The minute he hears about this, you're fucked.

You come back to a nice dinner with WATER as a drink.

A nice bath was waiting for you, too.

There's smooth jazz playing to relax you as well.

The second you ask for coffee or anything caffeinated, he'll shoot you the dirtiest look known to man and tell you no.

He'll have your favorite books set out for you and even bought some scented candles for you.

Bro abandoned Leona to make sure you'd take care of yourself.

That's how bad this is.

The second you even TRY to cut everyone off, he won't let you.

He'll take you to a nice secluded area, and you'll both take a walk there.

Ruggie wants what's best for you, and disassociating is not it.

Ruggie always has a book on hand for you, and he makes sure it's one that's to your taste, so you'll enjoy it.

You can daydream for a certain amount of time before it's time to come back to reality.

Overall, Ruggie is just caring to you.

He becomes a mother hen when you get like that.

[mykneeshurt]

hi!! happy new year!! 💗

I love ur writing, and I was thinking to drop this request;

so may request some hc’s of cod task force 141 (+ alejandro, könig, graves and rudy) :))

feel free to skip this if youre busy, just wondering, happy new year :)

Sorry this one took me some time, I got too in my head about it. It was so hard to not be bitchy to Graves lmfao, Soap is my favourite enjoy! SFW. Let me know if you want NSFW ones

Price 🥃

He supports Liverpool FC, no I won’t hear any different

His favourite non-alcoholic drink is ‘builders tea’

Glenfiddich 18 is his Whisky of choice

Favourite colour is khaki green

Is the father figure of the group, strong, reliable, approachable (everything my dad wasn’t lmfao, I still love him)

He wears a plain t-shirt pyjamas to bed, sleeps on his side, one arm under his head, absolutely snores

His favourite breed of dog is a Collie, or any working dog he can walk for miles for in the country side

He absolutely loves Bargain Hunt on TV

His favourite smell is fresh gingerbread

He’d make an excellent grandfather tbh

Soap 🧼

Despite being Scottish he supports Blackburn FC, an underdog (I refuse to comment on the Celtic vs Rangers, far too much history there. And I’m Welsh, it ent for me to say haah)

He absolutely loves winding the boys up about being English

His text tone is SCOTLAND FOREVVAAAA *aggressive bagpipes*

Soap 100% sleeps in the buff

His favourite dog would be a Labrador, nice active family friendly dog

He’s a chatterbox but a good listener when he needs to be, will often give some surprisingly good advice

He’s an iPhone wanker

Absolutely a mummy’s boy, would do anything for her - he’d love to pay off her mortgage for her

His favourite smell is the cheesy paws of his dog for real

He’s not a morning person, he loves a lie in when he can

Ghost 💀

Ghost supports Manchester City, he just gives me those vibes ok?

His favourite weather is rain/storms

When he’s home from a mission he’s a bath guy, he showers all the time on base, so when he’s home it’s hot ass bath with an audio book and his bourbon

He has two cats that his neighbour looks after when he’s away, two British blue shorthairs. Called Foxtrot and Whiskey

He also loves rabbits

He loves helping beginners at the gym

His favourite tv show is The Simpsons, something easy and colourful to watch to distract him from what he’s seen

He smells like Dior Suvage (anything musky and heavy)

He’s ambidextrous

He loves a cooked dinner, beef, roast potatoes, all the veg, stuffing and all the Yorkshire puddings

He’s got his tongue pierced, I’ve seen the fan art. You can’t tell me other wise.

Gaz 🇬🇧

He gives me Arsenal vibes, so he supports them

But also supports Chicago Bears in American Football

He’s gentle, reserved so he’d have a rat as a pet, highly intelligent

Fish and chips with curry sauce is his favourite meal, a proper British geeza

He smells fresh, think a bright spring day, fresh linen and cut grass

He loves the sunshine

He’s a keen gardener, grows his own herbs and vegetables

His house is spotless, minimalist, but has a huge book collection

He loves caramel lattes despite the banter from the boys, he has a sweet tooth

Loves meeting the boys down the pub on a Sunday for a carvery

Alejandro 🌹

He’s an excellent cook, his favourite hobby when not on a mission is trying out new recipes for Los Vaqueros

This man sleeps in silk sheets, tell me he doesn’t?

He’s fiercely loyal his country, he loves Mexico and is passionate about it through and through

He’s got a great sense of humour, enjoys making people laugh

He runs marathons for charity in his spare time

His favourite subject in school was history

If you’re sad this man gives the best hugs, he’ll make you a strong ass coffee and give one hell of a pep talk

His favourite smell is fresh cocoa beans, always stealing the nibs to eat

Him and Rudy have film nights with their families when they’re home

He’s 100% a girl dad, teaches her how to shoot with nerf guns in the garden

Rudy ❤️

He has a German Vizsla called Pollito, because her legs look like chicken drumsticks

He 100% has an android phone

He’s an armature photographer in his spare time, he loves nature

He and Alejandro have personalised ringtones for each other

His favourite food is Seafood paella

He owns a small farm, sells the produce to the local area, he loves animals

He once won a poetry competition

His favourite colour is orange

Sorry but he wears lynx Africa (I like it sue me)

He likes to game in his spare time, anything from farm simulator to RPGs

König 👑

He loves drawing, anything creative, he’ll draw/paint the Austrian countryside to de-stress

He grew up on a small farm in the Austrian mountains, he has a very close family

He doesn’t like large crowds, worried people stare at him because of his height, feels claustrophobic sometimes

He bites his nails when his hands aren’t busy or covered by gloves

He’s a cat guy 100%

He’s left handed, 100% a lefty but holds his gun right handed (its a struggle, I’m left handed)

He’d like a family one day, he’s got a lot of love to give

He smells like leather, sandalwood and vanilla

He loves eating raw cookie dough, vanilla and chocolate chip

He holds the record for the hardest punch in his home town

Graves 🇺🇸

His favourite holiday is July 4th, he does a huge fireworks display whenever he’s home

His favourite food is Gumbo

He smells like Paco Rabane Invictus

He’s got 3 Dobermans, whom he loves with all his heart. Ben, Jacob and Molly

He has a white picket fence - obviously

He doesn’t have a good relationship with his father, daddy forced him into the army to gain approval

He sleeps in red plaid pyjamas and has matching slippers

He’s fluent in French, he learnt it to pick up girls

He loves hiking in his spare time, with his 3 dogs

He runs support groups for veterans on a Thursday a local library

[serene-faerie]

I’ve seen a lot of angsty AUs where Kiryu joins the Nishikiyama Family

But hear me out: an AU where Kiryu joins the Nishikiyama Family, and after seeing that Nishiki’s so bad at taking care of himself, Kiryu makes it his official job to take care of his new boss from now on.

Nishiki’s skipping out on meals and only living on bottled water and high-class meals at five-star restaurants*? Kiryu just restocks Nishiki’s kitchen with proper food and even organizes a file of recipes to make sure he’s eating properly.

Nishiki’s more stressed out than usual? Kiryu gives him shoulder rubs and head massages to ease the stress.

Losing his temper more often? Kiryu buys a potted plant for Nishiki and gives him written instructions on how to take care of it, since caring for a plant can soothe the mind and soul.

Tired after a long day? Kiryu’s there to make him tea and maybe even draw a hot bath for him to relax.

And Nishiki hasn’t been properly cared for in over a decade, so his mind just blue-screens when Kiryu takes care of him for the first time. Like, he’s just too shocked to even be angry, and he tries to make Kiryu stop, but in the end, he just goes along with it and lets Kiryu care for him. Besides, it actually feels nice to be taken care of like this.

*(that’s a reference to Crash Landing on You, where Se-ri only lives on bottled water and fancy French food)

[livelaughwhump]

Concept

A whumper turning into a Caretaker when whumpee is whumped by someone much worse

This might be a long one

. . .

A knock at the door woke whumper from their quiet sleep. They groaned and stretched their tired muscles as another round of knocks sounded behind their door.

"Jesus Christ, I'm coming!" They shouted as they approached the door.

Whumper didn't know what to expect to find on the other side of the door, but a crying whumpee covered in blood and dirt, drenched and shivering from the rain, was probably at the bottom of their list.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Whumpee sniffled. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't-I didn't have anywhere else to-to go." Their voice quivered from the cold and their lips were almost blue.

"So, you thought waking me up in the middle of the night was your safest option?"

Whumpee flinched, tears rolling down their face. "I'm sorry. I don't want to-to be a b-bother, but-but I really have no-nowhere else to-to go."

"You don't have any friends you could bother?"

Whumpee shook their head.

"What about your family?"

"I don't-I don't have a-a family," whumpee admitted. They wrapped their arms around themself in a futile attempt to shield them from the cold. They sniffled again. "Please-please, help me."

Whumper regarded them skeptically, a pang of remorse striking their heart. Did whumpee really have no one else to go to? As much as whumper wanted to turn them away, they knew that if they did, whumpee would end up sleeping on the streets in the rain, starving and cold. And they would surely catch a fever if they stayed out there any longer.

Whumper sighed. "Come on in."

Whumpee reluctantly entered behind whumper, flinching when the door slammed shut. Whumper led them over to the couch, and said, "I'm gonna go draw you a bath and get you some dry clothes. Then, I'm going to make you a hot meal and we're going to sit in front of the fireplace and talk about what happened. Okay?"

Whumpee didn't say anything. They lowered their head and sniffled again, struggling to keep their tears from falling.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Whumper asked.

Whumpee shook their head as their tears stubbornly refused to cease. "I'm sorry," they apologized again. "I should-I shouldn't have come here. You shouldn't have to deal with me when I'm like this. You shouldn't have to go through all this trouble to take care of someone like me. It was stupid to come here. I'm sorry." Whumpee stood up, feeling ever more guilty as they eyed the wet spot they left on whumper's couch. "I'm just gonna go. This was a mistake. I'm sorry."

Whumpee made their way toward the door again, leaving wet footprints in their wake. Whumper followed and stubbornly blocked the door. Whumpee stared at them, wide-eyed.

"You're not going anywhere," whumper said. "I'm not going to let you go out there and freeze to death. You probably already have a fever, and I'm not about to let you make it worse."

Whumpee shook their head. "But-but you don't even like me. Why are-why are you being so nice to me? Why are you suddenly acting like you-you care?"

"Because-because I put you through hell," whumper admitted. "And I'm not gonna let someone else get away with doing the same."

Whumpee merely stared at them, still shivering in their sopping wet clothes.

"I'm not letting you walk out this door without some food and a proper night's sleep."

Whumpee sighed. "I just don't-don't wanna be a-a burden."

"I wouldn't be offering if I didn't want you to say yes, whumpee. Just let me take care of you, please."

Whumpee sniffled and tried to wipe the tears off of their face, but they kept coming. "Okay," they said.

Whumper led them to the couch again before leaving to prepare a bath and a meal for their shivering guest.