I really truly did start this account exclusively to post about Sherlock Holmes, but enough folks have expressed an enjoyment of my storytelling that I wanted to share: I do in fact make graphic novels, and have one coming out today!
It is NOT about Sherlock Holmes but it IS a mystery involving gay people. Available wherever books are sold (but be classy and don't buy from Amazon)
Everyone has secrets. Mags’s has teeth.
Magdalena Herrera is about to graduate high school, but she already feels like an adult with serious responsibilities: caring for her ailing grandmother; working a part-time job; clandestine makeouts with a girl who has a boyfriend. And then there’s her secret, which pulls her into the basement each night, drains her of energy, and leaves her bleeding. A secret that could hurt and even kill if it ever got out -- like it did once before.
So Mags keeps her head down, isolated in her small desert community. That is, until her childhood friend Nessa comes back to town, bringing vivid memories of the past, an intoxicating glimpse of the future, and a secret of her own. Mags won’t get attached, of course. She’s always been strong enough to survive without anyone’s help.
But when the darkness starts to close in on them both, Mags will have to drag her secret into the daylight, and choose between risking everything... or having nothing left to lose.
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luke castellan comforting his gf?
btw i love ur work 💗💗
wc + pairing: 0.9k, luke castellan x reader
oh i really needed this,,, if i stop writing comfort fics i’m dead i will literally write a thousand of them over and over they could be exact replicas and i would not care. sorry this took such a long time i've been in a big writing slump and i really don't like this but we have to start somewhere <3 every time someone requests a comfort fic i get very happy inside! i know this isn’t my best work like at all but hopefully it’s enough for now
Luke’s good at finding hidden things. A playing card wedged between wooden panels. A camper that always trudges at the back of the line. He can find something at its most sheltered and pluck it right back where it belongs. He’s good at that with you, too. When you wedge yourself somewhere tough, he slips through the cracks every damn time.
You’re exhausted. You don’t know what time it is, how long you’ve been here, or how you can stop it. You just couldn’t get up this morning and your siblings let you stay sick. You imagine an alternate version of this day over and over, where you’re up and alive and contributing to something. But that’s not today. But it should be. You dream it until tears press against your eyes but you’ve got no energy to push them out.
Feeling like this isn’t a constant occurrence, but it happens. Luke finds his way in each time, wedging open the slightest crack in your door or coming in through the window. He comes bearing gifts, he jokes. You don’t ask him where he gets the things he brings you—snacks, chocolate, plastic figurines to place on your windowsill. Menial things you like. Luke has his methods, and you know he loves you too much to reveal them.
“Got some offerings for a goddess here,” he says when he sits down on your bed, knuckles brushing your arm. If you’re too tired to answer he never minds, he just crosses his legs and pulls your head into his lap. He smooths the hair away from your face to massage your scalp, and lets you rest. He doesn’t ask you for anything. Doesn’t force you to speak. You do when you’re ready.
“I don’t feel good,” you admit hoarsely, blinking back tears.
“That’s okay.” He leans down to kiss your forehead. “You just rest.”
It almost makes you laugh. “I’ve been in bed all day, Luke.”
“Mm, yeah, but you’re not really resting,” he says without judgement, letting you cling to his body as you pull yourself up to a seated position. “What’s on your mind, baby?”
You press your face into his neck so the warmth can distract you. Sometimes you say a lot, sometimes you say a little, like your mouth has separated from your body. It almost always ends with, “I feel like shit. I don’t know what to do.”
Luke is patient with you, but never overbearing. He knows you shut down when things are laid on too thick. “Want to take a nap?” He offers, threading his hands through your hair. “I can take you to my cabin, it’s cooler.”
He’s right, so you let him, and he steals you away without a fuss. The sheets smell like him, so even if you want to be alone, he still grounds you. When you fall into his bed you curl into a ball like an armadillo, like you can squeeze the rot out of your bones if you compress hard enough. Luke slots himself beside you after confirming it’s what you want, pressing kisses into your shoulder, until you turn into him and starfish over his body. “You let me know if you need anything, angel,” he murmurs, swiping your hair away from your face. “I’ve got you.”
You manage to doze off, with his arms loose around your back and his chest underneath you. When you wake up later with a kiss of late afternoon breeze, you’re struck with the disorienting feeling of a good sleep. “Luke,” you mutter, digging your nose into his neck.
He rouses too. “How’re you feeling?”
“Still bad.”
“Mm.” He kisses your forehead, squeezes you against him. “That’s okay. Want me to go grab you some food?”
“Can we talk a little before?”
“‘Course,” he says gently. He ghosts a kiss over your jaw.
Sleep has pieced together some of the words you need, and Luke brings them out of you with hardly any effort. You have what’s probably a fragmented reason at best, but he doesn’t care. He keeps you anchored to him as long as you want him to, rubbing your back and letting you take your time. Once you’re done with the conversation, Luke diligently wipes your tears and kisses you. “Thank you,” you whisper.
“Anytime,” he grins. “I mean, I do love you. Nothing else I’d rather do.”
You let your forehead rest against his. Your throat feels thick but you get the words out, “I’m worried I’m going to feel this way forever.”
It doesn’t feel good to admit. Luke’s face softens, and he presses a kiss between your brows. “You won’t,” he murmurs, wrapping you in his arms. “You’ve got time.”
The length of the day moving around you matters a little less when Luke shields you from it. His knuckles rub across the ridges in your back until you’re sure the texture of his shirt is imprinted on your face.
After he goes off to bring you some food, you find the strength to go wash your face in the bathroom. It’s practically nothing. Practically. At least you settle back into his bed, the blankets aren’t as heavy as before. You don’t feel better yet, but Luke’s got plenty of time for you. (He’ll pawn his kids off to Chris. None of them need this grilled cheese anyway.)
luke taglist: @sunniskyies @apollos-calliope @lillycore @sunny747 @m00ng4z3r @pabkeh @thaliagracesgf @theadventuresofanartist @bonnie-tz @ash-williamsss @sucker-4-angst @kitkat-writes-stuff @too-deviant @huang-the-geek @daughterofthemoons-stuff @jennapancake @idunnowhattonamethis @jarofshells @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not @lauraisthebestyapper @nininehaaa
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A caged bird.
Word count: 808
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"Ah, you're already awake, my dear."
He greeted you with that same infuriating smile, as he did every morning. His hand slithered around your shoulder as you sat by the window, your only way of seeing the outside.
"Why am I here?"
He flinched at your question, a slight twitch of anger, his wings fluttering slightly. "Angel, I have told you why."
"That's not good enough, you have to give me a real reason. I don't want to hear any more excuses about 'love' or 'safety'." You retorted back, turning around to face him. He ran a hand through his silvery hair, the locks still perfectly framing his face as usual. His voice sounded restrained, a small frown forming in his expression. "Darling, I have told you before, I don't want you going out there, it's far too dangerous."
"But you never elaborate on that any further, give me the real reason, Sunday." You turned away from the window to face him with a determined expression, his eye twitching in annoyance. "Drop it, Y/N."
He hasn't called you by your name in months, your words must have struck a chord with him, his stern expression stilling any words that could have formed on your tongue. You look down, gazing at his shoes instead, though he soon grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger, pulling your head up, his expression softening once your eyes met his. "There is no need to worry, angel. I have been blessed with less work to do today, so I will return early this evening." He planted a small peck on your cheek, his heels tapping on the carpeted floor as the door closed with a click.
Three months, two weeks, three days, thirteen hours and nine minutes. That is how long you have been stuck in this room. Now that he is gone, you started your daily routine of looking for a way out, starting with the front door. Your hand pressed on the handle, and it surprisingly clicked open, revealing the rest of the Reverie hotel to your sight.
Your legs moved before your mind could, quickly walking out to see an odd sight. Though it looked like the hotel at first, the one in reality, it appeared to be quite the contrary. Dream bubbles floated around, furniture hung in the air, and no one was around. But, you thought he took you back to reality, the room certainly looked like it, but he kept you in the dream after all?
You ran through the hall, looking for any possible exit, a way out of this nightmare. Trying any door you came across, almost all of them were locked. Except for one, a door that led you out into what appeared closest to the lobby of the hotel, with more doors on the sides. You approached one, opening it and walking inside. The room appeared closest to the lobby of the- wait, the same room? You tried a different door, the one to the left of you, that one leading right back to the same room. You tried yet another door, that one leading right back to the same room, again. You felt tears welling in your eyes, continuing to run, you sprinted past each door you opened, though the result was always the same.
Your lungs felt as though they were on fire, your legs were sore and heavy as lead; though you persisted, looking for an exit at any cost. Eventually your body collapsed out of exhaustion, panting heavily as you lay on the ground. The only thing you had energy to do was cry. Pulling your knees into your chest as you buried your face in them, tears spilling from your eyes, until you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked up, sniffling as you spotted the man who was the cause of your tears.
"Sunday..." You said in a meek voice, slowly sitting up to meet his sorrowful yet angered gaze. He pulled you into his embrace, lifting you up in his arms.
"Darling, what were you thinking? Running off on your own, you could have come across serious danger. Thankfully I had some precautions in place, to ensure you didn't wander too far." He released an exasperated sigh, his brows slightly furrowed, beginning to walk back towards the room you had previously been trapped in. "How did you know?" Your voice was barely a whisper, never daring to look in his eyes, though in the bleak silence of the room, he could still hear you perfectly. "Do you really think I wouldn't notice your absence? Come now, you are my pride and joy, I don't know what I would do without you. You're my angel, I must protect you to keep your presence at my side, even if it means clipping your beloved wings."
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Based on this fanart it's so fucking good omg
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home. — timeskip!hinata shoyo x gn!reader
; fluff, comfort – warnings: none – wc: 895
note: inspired by a comment i saw on a tiktok vid and the comments in the vid were so ?!? link to the video (safe link /srs) I NEED TO BE CUDDLED BY HIM SO BADD rel not feyk.
shoyo was tired, to say the least. it was 8pm when their coach announced that they could go home. all he wanted to do now was lay in bed next to you, his home, his rest, his girlfriend.
once he entered your shared apartment, he immediately dropped his bag and slumped on the couch face first, sighing. he was so tired he didn't hear you enter the living room.
"shoyo?" you called out, and he looked up with a tired look. "y/n babyy, i'm so tired" he said as he pouted. "i figured. but you still need to eat dinner, yeah?" you replied, "i'm too tired; i don't think i have the energy to eat," he stated. you giggled a little as you spoke, "i get it baby, but you still need to eat your dinner; it's unhealthy if you sleep with an empty stomach. c'mere, i made pork," you said. the mention of pork immediately hooked him, and he stood up, following you to the kitchen.
he tiredly sat down as you prepared his plate. "what happened at practice today, hm? you seem extra tired." you asked as you placed his plate in front of him, "well... atsumu was in a bad mood today; no one knew why, but it affected all of us. he made bad plays, and his sets were off, leading us to cover half of his sets." shoyo continued on talking about his day while he ate the food you prepared for him, mentioning that they kept losing each set at the practice match.
minutes later, shoyo finished eating and went straight to the bedroom. you followed him, watching as he immediately laid down on the bed. "hinata, you still need to shower. you've been practicing all day," you stated. "hmfp, i'm so tired though; do i really have to?" he whined. "yes baby, you have to, you stinky," you said, giggling; he whined again.
shoyo used all his energy to pull himself out of bed and went straight to the bathroom. "do you need help?" you asked. hinata let out a hum in agreement. with that, you followed him into the bathroom. he leaned back onto the sink, eyes shutting in drowsiness. you went to the bathtub and opened the faucet, grabbing the liquid soap and pouring it in the water to create bubbles. once the bathtub was half full, you called shoyo. "get in the bathtub; its ready now. i'll go and grab a new clothes and towel," he nodded, and you went out of the bathroom.
he stripped and immediately went in the tub, sitting down facing the wall, shutting his eyes, and sighing. he was so insanely tired that he felt like he could sleep in the tub at any moment. you went back in the bathroom, putting the towel on the doorknob and placing his clothes on the sink counter. you walked closer to the bath tub where hinata was; you grabbed the shampoo, putting a pinch in your hand, and started massaging his hair. "grab the soap, shoyo, wash your body," you directed. he grabbed the soap and started scrubbing his body while you washed his hair.
"are you done? i'll wash your hair now." you asked, "yep 'm done," shoyo said tiredly. you grabbed the water ladle, scooping up a good amount of water, and carefully poured it over his hair. you repeated the same action until his hair didn't have any shampoo anymore.
you left shoyo in the bathroom so he could do the rest of his nightly routine by himself. you laid down the bed, scrolling through your phone while waiting for him. 10 minutes later, he opened the bathroom door, kneading his hair with a towel to dry it.
you admired him; 'he was so cute with his wet hair' you thought. once he felt like his hair was dry enough, he placed the towel on the doorknob of the bathroom. he went straight to the bed, hugging you as he laid down, head on your chest.
"very tired?" you asked. "super," he stated. you put down your phone on the table, then started to stroke his hair to comfort him. "mhm... you know y/n," hinata started, "yeah?" "you're the embodiment of home for me; i love you so much. thank you for taking care of me." he said, face still resting on your chest. your heart began to beat faster; you were shocked.
he always says the most unhinged things that didn't surprise you that much because, well, he's hinata. but this one; he said it for no reason, unpromptedly. that's what he really thought of you? his home? you felt like crying in tears of joy.
you let out a light chuckle before replying, "thank you, shoyo. you're my home too. i love you so much. i hope you know that." the moment felt so comfortable; you and hinata both wished that you could stay like this forever.
after a while of stroking his hair, you heard light snores—a sign that he fell asleep. you laughed lightly, careful enough not to wake him up. his words kept repeating in your head. you were so happy that the person you love is so comfortable with you, and vice versa.
you were his home, and he was your home. you were each others home; each others rest, each others solace.
©i4-zuri, all rights reserved.
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