#fairy1300followers

[fairy-writes]

Hmmmmm let me order a large latte with spice with Toji from JJK (female reader) and another large latte with cream with Noe from Vanitas (female reader) 😌😌

AS SERIOUS AS THE DEAD

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Prompt: A fluffy Victorian-era imagine with Toji from JJK

Word Count: 1.3k

Fandom(s): Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing(s): Fushiguro Toji x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Resurrection Man!Toji, Reader is shorter than Toji

Notes: I am somewhat inspired by “Anatomy: A Love Story” by Dana Schwartz because that’s the book I just finished lol

This is also like… younger Toji… so I’m taking some liberties with his personality. 

LISTEN I KNOW WHAT I SAID ABOUT THE WORD COUNT

DON’T PERCEIVE ME

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The young man on the corner didn’t draw your attention at first. 

Your mother was prattling on and on about the upcoming season and potential engagements, but you paid her no mind. You just wanted to return to your books. But something about this young gentleman caught your eye. 

He was dressed in a tattered overcoat over a dirty button-down and trousers, hands stuffed in his pockets against the early spring chill. He scuffed his shoes on the cobblestone, and you could see the holes in them from your carriage as you passed. His black hair was ruffled, and those dark eyes of his bore straight into yours. 

You raised a hand and offered a polite wave. The man scoffed and turned his head away, but you could see him watching you out of the corner of his eye.

At least, you could see him until your mother drew the curtains, blocking the outside world, well… outside.

“Hey!” You turn back and exclaim indignantly. Your mother huffs out through her nose and sneers at where the man had been just a few moments ago. 

“There’s no need for you to be looking at those ruffians.” She snaps, and you just roll your eyes and peek under the curtain, ignoring her offended cries. 

But the man is gone. 

You run into the man nearly a week later. 

You have your nose in a book when you run straight into someone and go tumbling to the ground. Your dress and skirts immediately soak up the mud and rainwater from the previous night, and you very nearly drop your book but instead manage to hold it above your head to keep the pages dry. You hurriedly flip through the pages to ensure nothing got on them. Thankfully, there’s not a speck of mud or water on the pages. 

“Oi, do you want help up or not?” Comes a gruff voice, and your eyes shoot up to meet the very same eyes you had been thinking of just this morning over breakfast.

It’s the young man from before!

You quickly grab his hand, noting the calloused nature of it, and he heaves you to your feet easily. Now that you are closer, you can see he’s well-built, especially for someone of his status. His clothes are speckled with dirt, and he holds a spade in his free hand. 

What did he do for a living? 

You realize abruptly he’s waving a hand in front of your face, and you jerk back, nearly tripping again and going back down. His hand grabs your waist and pulls you back into a standing position. The book is squished between the two of you, and you blink up at the man. He offers a cheeky grin, and you push him away. 

“Sorry!” You yelp and tuck your book under your arm so you can brush at the mud coating your bum. 

Only to realize that it’s rather futile. 

You sigh and realize your day is most likely ruined when the man speaks again.

“Follow me. I have a change of clothes.” He says, and when you stare at him, he looks to the skies as if praying for patience. “Y’know, to replace your muddy ones?”

“Oh, I figured. I’m just wondering why I should follow you? I don’t even know you.” You retort, and he sighs. 

Eventually, after some back and forth, you agree to follow the mysterious man whose name you don’t know. 

You really hoped you weren’t about to get murdered. 

He leads you to a boarding house on the edge of town. It isn’t totally run down, but it isn’t super high-end, either. It’s nondescript and quaint. 

The perfect place to get murdered. 

You held your book close to your chest and smiled awkwardly at a panhandler sitting outside the boarding house. 

“Y’bringin’ home a woman, Toji? Y’scoundrel!” The beggar crows, and the young man—Toji?—rolls his eyes and tosses a few farthings into the man’s cup. 

“It’s not like that, and you know it.” He says, but he doesn’t sound upset. He sounds teasing as if this is a joke between friends. 

The man takes note of your book and dress and whistles,

“An’ y’got a proper lady this time!” He says, and Toji ushers you into the boarding house quickly without another word. 

Toji’s room was just as quaint as the outside of the boarding house. It contained a small bed, a dresser, a dressing screen, and two windows. He rummages through the dresser drawers until he finds what he is looking for. 

A dress.

It’s muddy brown in color but will do nicely as you are starting to get cold. You set your book on the dresser and step behind the dressing screen. 

“Thank you.” You say as you attempt to lace up your corset by yourself. 

Keyword being attempt. 

You usually have maids and help. But now? You’re floundering and tugging at the laces.

A few minutes later, Toji finally speaks. 

“You doing okay back there?” He asks, and you make a frustrated noise,

“Just peachy.” You respond and let out a shriek when he comes around the dressing screen. He rolls his eyes and motions for you to turn around. 

“I’m not going to do anything. Just turn around so I can lace you up and get you home.” He says, exasperated, and you eventually comply. 

Toji stays true to his word and doesn’t try anything as he laces up your corset. He deftly maneuvers the laces through the holes and tightens the article of clothing but not so tight so you can’t breathe. 

“Not bad for a body snatcher.” You mumble and realize very quickly that that was not the right thing to say. His hands still, and you swallow thickly. 

Was he going to kill you? 

Body snatching was illegal in these parts. But that didn’t stop people from trying to make a pretty guinea and digging up bodies. 

“I prefer the term “resurrection man,” much more romantic, don’t you think?” He says and finishes up lacing your corset. You turn around and watch him warily. He watches you with the exact same emotion in his eyes. 

He was just as scared of you as you were of him. 

But it wasn’t until he was walking you home that he spoke again. 

“How did you know?” He says as he scuffs his shoes and watches a carriage cross your path. You shrug, closing your book for the umpteenth time so you don’t trip. 

“You were covered in mud. And carried a spade. So I was right then?” You retort and make to cross the street. He catches your arm, and you stop. He looks around to ensure no one is following or listening in on you both. 

“Are you serious?” You gesture awkwardly with your book to the mud still on his clothes.

“As serious as the dead, I suppose.”

Toji throws his head back at that and laughs loud and boisterous. People begin to look, and you duck your head to avoid being stared at. He slings an arm over your shoulders and tugs you into his side roughly. Your book gets bent slightly as it’s stuck between the two of you.

“Oh, I think we’ll get along just fine.” He chuckles in your ear, and you feel your heart begin to race.

Just what had you gotten yourself into with talking to him?

[fairy-writes]

last one! can i order a large latte for Louis from MTP? thank youuu!!!

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Prompt: Fluffy imagine with Louis from MTP

Word Count: 0.5k

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): Louis James Moriarty x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Fluff, Reader is implied to be shorter than Louis

Notes: This is like… Post-Timeskip… So manga spoilers, I guess? I’ll try to keep them to a minimum. (I also haven’t finished the manga; I was reading it as chapters were coming out, but I forgot to keep up with it)

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“I have a question.” You say suddenly as you break apart a head of lettuce. Louis looks up from where he’s cooking over the stove, eyebrow raised. You are both preparing dinner for the rest of your friends to celebrate William’s return.

“Yes?” He replied, and you look up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling very foolish. You shouldn’t be second-guessing Louis… He has always been so sure of himself since William disappeared. And even before his elder brother disappeared, he was confident in his decisions. 

“Do you actually like me?” You say, more under your breath than anything, but Louis hears it. 

The ladle stirring the soup stops, and Louis turns to face you, crossing the space between you in a few long strides. He works the knife from your grasp and sets it beside the chopped lettuce, cradling your fingers in his palms. 

Your eyes are drawn to his scar, faded and pinkish. Ever since the Final Plan was put into action and William disappeared, Louis had pushed his hair out of his face and ditched his glasses, exposing the self-inflicted scar for the world to see. 

Louis grabs your attention by pressing a kiss to your knuckles and holding them to his chest. He looks serious. 

“My love, I mean this in the best of ways.” He starts, and you feel your heart skip a beat. Was he going to reject you? “But we’ve been together for three years. We are getting married next year. I plan to spend the rest of my life with you. What the hell do you think?”

At that, you can’t help but laugh. Tears well up and overflow.

“Sorry.” You say, voice cracking and he pulls you into a hug.

“I’m sorry, love. I’ve been neglecting you. With Brother’s return, I haven’t been paying attention to you, and I can tell you’re hurting.” He says, and you huff out another dry laugh.

“What kind of partner am I if I can’t handle you planning a simple dinner?” You reply and feel him press a kiss to your temple. 

It isn’t long before you both return to your respective duties, working like a well-oiled machine to finish dinner preparations in record time. You leave Louis to set the table while you gather everyone who is waiting in the parlor. Just before you enter the room to let everyone know that dinner is ready, you slip on your engagement ring. 

It’s a simple gold band engraved with Louis’s initials. His has your initials engraved on the inside as well. Because it’s a reminder that you’ll always have a part of him and his love with you. And vice versa. 

You open the parlor door with a smile that stretches wider at Moran’s loud complaint of, “It’s about time!” 

“If you’ll follow me to the dining room, we can begin dinner.” You say, twisting the ring around and around your finger. 

You were silly to have doubted your fiancé. You knew he loved you fiercely. And you loved him just as intensely in return. 

[fairy-writes]

im not sure if its still open but please can i get an order of large black coffee with spice for Louis James Moriarty? thank you so, so much!!!

NEEDLEPOINT STITCHES

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Prompt: Whump Victorian era imagine with Louis from MTP

Word Count: 0.6k

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): Louis James Moriarty x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader

Notes: This is a female reader as opposed to my typical gn one :)

I’M SOFT FOR LOVERS HELPING EACH OTHER WITH THEIR INJURIES

TW for stitches and mild blood :)

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“What do you think you’re doing?” You say quietly as you spot Louis in one of the spare bedrooms.

He sits on the bed with his back to you, the half-melted candle burning low to hide the blood. He turns slightly, and you can hear him hiss in pain as he does so, nearly knocking over a bottle as he does so. 

“It’s nothing dearest, go back to bed. I’ll be in in a moment.” He says tightly, but you shake your head and approach, setting your own candle down to take stock of his injuries.

There’s a large gash across his side that’s oozing blood and pus beneath haphazard bandages. His fists are wrapped, but you can see where they’re starting to turn pink at his knuckles. Louis is holding a bent needle in his bloody fingers, but you can tell it isn’t going well. The cut along his side is at an awkward angle, preventing him from sewing it up properly.

You reach forward with tender fingers and brush your fingertips along his jawline, moving his hair away from his face and exposing a nasty bruise that covered his scar. He leans into your touch as you sit in front of him and gather the supplies from his hands.

“My love—” You press a finger to his lips and lean up to kiss his forehead.

“Let me help.” You plead softly, and he sighs, giving you a nod and the go-ahead.

You realize very quickly that you are out of your depth. Louis notices because, of course, he does.

“I can do it, my dear. Really, it’s fine.” He says gently, and you shake your head, smiling a slightly queasy smile.

“How different can it be than my embroidery?” You quip and gather your skirts about you and readjust the fabric before getting to work.

Louis, thankfully, walks you through what to do. You bend the already bent needle so it’s in an arc and hold the two sides of the wound closed with your nondominant hand. Then, using your dominant one, you begin to sew. 

Come to find out, the bottle Louis had almost knocked over was, in fact, whiskey from the kitchens. Your fiancé picked it up and took a long swig as you hunched over to get a better look at the long cut. 

“Might I ask how you got these injuries? It’s not like you to get hurt so easily.” You ask and can feel the muscles in his side stiffen as he sits up straight. 

“There was a fight.” He said quickly. You rolled your eyes and looked up at him with an eyebrow raised. 

Louis notices your look and lets out a long breath. He sets the whiskey down and puts a hand over yours to keep you from continuing. 

“Some men at the bar said some awful things about you.” He says in a soft voice, and you frown. You worked at a bar in the center of London in order to gather intel for William. It was arduous work, but you didn’t mind it. 

“Louis, darling, people say things all the time. You know this.” You say gently, and he shakes his head, reaching for the whiskey again. 

“This was the first time I had to hear it.” He grumbles, and you hum.

You work in silence until you tie the stitches off and snip the end of the thread. You hold out a hand, and Louis wordlessly hands the alcohol to you, where you then set it aside. You reach to cradle his face once again and bring his lips to yours in a soft kiss. 

“I love you, Louis. And thank you for defending me. But all I care about is you coming home safely.” You whisper against his mouth and feel the corners of his lips twitch up into a smile. 

“And I promise I’ll make it home every time.”

[fairy-writes]

MORNING ROUTINE

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Requester: @straykidsnerd255

Prompt: A fluffy, domestic imagine with Noé from Vanitas

Word Count: 0.7k

Fandom(s): The Case Study of Vanitas

Pairing(s): Noé Archiviste x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Domestic AU

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Your morning routine begins with Noé.

You wake up wrapped tightly in his arms as his nose is buried in your hair. He’s still fast asleep. His white hair is mussed and unruly, not at all how he carefully styles it every morning when he actually wakes up. 

But Vanitas didn’t have anything planned today, so you had him all to yourself. 

It’s a pain to get out of his hold, but you’d been dating him for a year and known him even longer than that. Getting out of his bear hug was child’s play for you now. Putting your hands on his entwined arms, you push down gently. He shifts in his sleep but doesn’t awaken. 

But slowly… ever so slowly… his arms move down your waist until they get caught on your hips. You push a bit harder, but when Noé almost wakes up, you stop. 

So you shimmy your hips and push gently until you can awkwardly clamber out of his arms and stand upright. You replace your body with your pillow, and Noé is none the wiser. He rolls over in his sleep with an incoherent mumble. You spy Vanitas on the other bed of your shared hotel room, pitch-black hair sticking up in all directions as he sits up and glares around the room. 

Neither of the boys are particularly joyous when woken up in the morning. 

“What do you feel like for breakfast?” You whisper, and he grunts, lying back down and covering his head with the blanket. You can’t help but giggle but stifle the noise when Vanitas peeks his head out again and turns his nasty glare onto you. 

The next part of your morning routine is simple. You wash your face and hands and rifle quietly through your luggage for clothing for the day. You pick out a simple violet dress and matching shoes and change in the bathroom, tossing Noé’s shirt that he had lent you for sleeping onto the bed once you’re done. 

Paris is just beginning to wake up as you walk down the slowly brightening streets. The sun is just peeking over the horizon, but you don’t stop to admire it as you typically would. 

You’re on a mission. 

A mission to get breakfast back before the boys wake up. 

Well… wake up for real at least. 

There is a bakery near your hotel room, but you wanted to try one just down and across the road. The locals had raved about it when you talked to them last week. Though there is already a line forming before the doors have even opened. 

So you get in line and hope you can make it back in time before Vanitas and Noé wake up. 

It takes about an hour, but you get a box of pastries and tiny cakes, pay, and head back to the hotel room.

You open the door and find Noé standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and his hair sticking up every which way. He still holds your pillow in his free hand and frowns when he spots you dressed and holding a pastry box in your hands. 

“Wassat?” He mumbles, and you laugh at his sleep-addled words. 

“Breakfast.” Now go get changed and you can have some.” You nudge gently and he visibly brightens when he smells the still-warm pastries in the box. 

It doesn’t take long for the scent to entice Vanitas out of bed either. As soon as you set the box down and go to check on your boyfriend, you see Vanitas moving around under the covers as if trying to hype himself up to get out of bed. 

Noé all but bounds out of the bathroom, dressed and ready for the day. He wraps his arms tightly around your middle and peppers you with kisses. You laugh and gently push him away before reaching behind you into the box and shoving a pastry into his mouth. He stops, chews once or twice, and absolutely melts with adoration. 

Looks like you mission is accomplished. 

[fairy-writes]

a cappuccino of any size you'd like for megumi, for your event 👀 (am i doing this right idk but i hope you have fun if you decide to write it!)

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NIGHTMARES

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Prompt: Hurt/comfort scenario with Fushiguro Megumi from JJK

Word Count: 0.3k (sorry it’s so short!)

Fandom(s): Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing(s): Fushiguro Megumi x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Nightmares, Gender Neutral!Reader, Megumi is aged up, Post-JJK Events, 

Notes: 

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA (that I’m not even caught up with rip, so I’m bound to get something wrong)

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Even after all these years, Megumi still has nightmares.

Of Sukuna. Of the darkness. Of the helplessness he felt as he watched, unable to help, as his friends were ruthlessly attacked.

Even when everything was fine in the end. 

Megumi simply… wasn’t.

You wake up to the sound of whimpering. 

Immediately, you’re on your guard. Was it a cursed spirit?

Then you turn over, and your heart cracks. 

Megumi lies beside you, hands fisted in the bedsheets, and sweat pours down his body. His face is twisted and scrunched, eyes shut tight as he tries to fight off whatever he is seeing in his dreams.

You immediately sit up and scoot over to his side of the bed. You gently smooth his hair from his face and flinch as he rips the bedsheet beneath his grasp. 

“Megumi, you need to wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” You say softly, quietly, so as not to spook him. 

It doesn’t work. 

You are nearly headbutted in the face as he jolts upright, eyes dark and panicked as he glances from side to side wildly. Those dark eyes that you love so much are scanning the room as if expecting to see a monster in the corner. 

“It’s just the clothes for tomorrow’s wash. You’re okay.” You say quickly as you watch his gaze lock on a pile of dirty laundry in the hamper.

He hunches forward, drawing his knees to his chest as he begins to cry. And it breaks your heart. 

You do what you can by rubbing his back slowly and whispering encouraging words in his ear, but nothing seems to help. He shrugs you off like he always did on nights like these. 

Until…

“Thank you.” He says quietly, and your heart swells with love for him. 

“Any time.” You whisper back and press a kiss to his temple. 

[fairy-writes]

heyy! can i get a large cappuccino with fmab ed elric? ty :)

SPECIAL

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Prompt: Hurt/Comfort Imagine with Edward Elric from Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

Word Count: 0.5k

Fandom(s): Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

Pairing(s): Edward Elric x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Post-FMAB (like literally right after Father vs everyone)

Notes: I’m a sucker for waking up in the hospital tropes

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When you first open your eyes, you are assaulted by bright lights. You grunt in annoyance and close them again. 

“I saw that.” Edward’s voice makes your eyelashes flutter, and you squeeze them shut stubbornly. 

“No, you didn’t.” You mumble and hear a dark laugh. 

“Don’t play games with me.” He snaps, and you frown, opening your eyes for good this time and hissing as the overwhelming lights attack your retinas.

What has him so mad?

Wait… what happened?

“You don’t remember?” He asks, and you realize you have spoken out loud. You look over and see him for the first time since waking up.

He looks… awful.

Bandages are wrapped around his forehead and temple. He has a splint on his left hand where he broke a couple of fingers. And he has his right arm back.

Wait…

Hold on… 

His right arm is back.

You shoot upright and immediately wish you hadn’t. The world begins to spin, and you put a hand to your head where you feel identical bandages and a cast on your right arm. 

Edward is on his feet in an instant, easing you back down into a lying down position and instead props you up with an excess of pillows. Despite how his face is twisted in anger, you can still pick out the worry in his golden eyes.

“Father put his plan into action.” He says, voice monotone and not at all like he usually would speak.

He must’ve really been angry.

But for what?

At you?

“Is everyone okay?” His face twists even more, and he slams a hand down on the table beside your bed, his famous temper flaring.

“Can you care about yourself for once!” He bit out, and you blinked. He was usually so careful to make sure he didn’t get mad at those he loved. He never shouted at Alphonse. Nor Winry. Hell, whenever he got mad at Granny Pinako, it was when she was teasing him about his height, so it barely counted.

Edward seems to immediately regret his outburst when you flinch at the sudden noise. His gaze softens, and he hangs his head.

“Sorry… It’s just… The doctors weren’t sure you’d wake up.” He whispers, voice cracking and your heart along with it. You reach out with your casted hand and set it atop his.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily. Plus… you’re too special to me to lose.” 

His mood darkens again.

“There is nothing special about me. But I’m less breakable than you. I should have taken care of you!” He grinds out, more angry at himself than anything.

“I never asked you to.” You try, and he jerks his head to look at you.

“You shouldn’t have to ask!” He cries, and you feel hot tears well up at the sight of his tears dripping down his chin and onto the blanket.

He sees you crying and lets out a quiet chuckle,

“We’re a mess, aren’t we?” He says, and you pull his right hand up to your mouth to kiss the knuckles.

“It’s part of your appeal, love.”

[fairy-writes]

Hello there :) Congratulations on 1300 followers, that’s amazing. Could I please order a large Espresso for Geto Suguru from Jujutsu Kaisen 💙💙

LAST BREATH

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Prompt: An angsty (emotional pain) imagine with Geto Suguru from JJK

Word Count: 0.5k

Fandom(s): Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing(s): Geto Suguru x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader

Notes: I’m so sorry this took absolutely forever lovely! I hope you like it nonetheless!

SPOILERS FOR THE JJK MOVIE AND JJK 0

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Geto Suguru broke up with you on the morning of your seventeenth birthday.

You only found out later from Satoru that it was after he had slaughtered a village.

You should have known. After everything with Riko. You should have seen the signs that he was deteriorating. Spiraling. That things weren't as okay as you thought they were.

But you didn’t.

And it was your fault.

He broke up with you without another word and simply… left.

You cut down another curse spirit. Blackened purplish ichor coated your hands and your weapon. 

It had been hours since the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons had commenced, and you were growing tired. But you couldn’t stop now, not when you were so close to killing the last of the cursed spirits and being done with this. 

What had happened to Satoru? Or the rest of the first-year students? Hadn’t at least Inumaki and Panda been with you? 

“YOUR PHONE IS RINGING! YOUR PHONE IS RINGING!” 

Satoru’s obnoxious voice blasted through your concentration, and you were barely able to dodge a swipe from a particularly large cursed spirit. It was dispatched quickly, and you managed to pick up Satoru’s call on the last ring. He had recorded it nearly fifteen years earlier when you were just simple first years. 

You knew the reason you weren’t able to change it was because you could hear Suguru snickering in the background. 

Back when you were all still happy. 

“What do you want?” You snap into the receiver and only hear a shaky inhale. Was this a prank? Then… you hear your name. 

Only one person in the world said your name so tenderly like that. It had been years since you last heard him say your name. And he was the reason you were here fighting for your life. 

“Geto.” You whisper and hear a raspy chuckle, 

“Not Suguru?” You shake your head even though he can’t see it. 

“You lost that privilege when you left.” Now he laughs a bit darkly. It sends a chill down your spine, and you duck under a small spirit who had tried to get the jump on you. 

“I suppose I did. I suppose I did.”

It’s quiet. And not the tender, warm kind you were so used to when he was still here. Still home. It’s awkward until you blurt out the question that’s on your mind. 

“How are you calling me anyway? I thought—”

“I’m dying.” Your weapon goes slack in your hand. 

“How?” Another weak laugh. Was he trying not to worry you? Even after all this time? Did he still care?

“It seems Okkotsu was tougher than I expected.” At this, you can’t help but offer a quiet laugh. 

“It seems so. He was trained by Satoru, after all.” Your voice cracks and you come to a realization. 

For all your bravado about not caring about Suguru, you knew it was all a lie. 

You knew you still loved him. 

So you hunker down in a safe spot. 

And listen as he draws his last breath. 

[fairy-writes]

1300 Follower Event!

Hello! I recently reached 1300 followers and am literally, like… lowkey crying?

I know I say this every time. But I seriously cannot imagine myself ever having gotten this far. I can’t imagine anyone actually enjoying what I write, much less wanting to follow my silly little writing blog.

But for this event! I’m hosting a cafe! Just like I did way back when! Basically, you guys order a drink, and I’ll write either headcanons, drabbles, scenarios, or one-shots!

The event will be open for two weeks starting today! It’ll be available from Monday, November 27th, 2023 to Monday, December 11th, 2023! 

ALL ORDERS ARE UNDER #fairy1300followers

Rules are: 

All orders are written as character x reader!

Everything is gender neutral reader unless specifically stated otherwise (ex: you request a female reader)

TWO ORDERS PER PERSON

Please send them in separately so I can keep track of everything!

You don’t have to choose an add-on special. Those are just if you want to have some extra fun!

Any orders that do not follow the rules will be deleted. 

I will write for the following people:

Arcane: League of Legends: Viktor, Silco, Jayce Talis, Vi, Vander, Caitlyn Kiramman, Mel Medarda

Bungou Stray Dogs: Nakajima Atsushi, Nakahara Chuuya, Dazai Osamu, Kunikida Doppo, Fukuzawa Yukichi, Saigiku Jouno, Suehiro Tecchou

The Case Study of Vanitas: Vanitas, Noé Archiviste, Roland Fortis, Dominique de Sade

Demon Slayer: All the Hashira (except for Muichiro), Akaza, Kokushibo, Douma, Kamado Tanjiro (aged up), Agatsuma Zenitsu (aged up), Hashibira Inosuke (aged up)

Doctor Who: The Doctor (9th, 10th, 11th, 12th), Jack Harkness, River Song

Fullmetal Alchemist: Roy Mustang, Greed (not Greedling), Riza Hawkeye, Jean Havoc, Envy, Alex Louis Armstrong, Olivier Armstrong, Edward Elric (post-FMAB), Alphonse Elric (post-FMAB), Ling Yao (post-FMAB)

Grimm (NBC): Nick Burkhardt, Hank Griffin, Sean Renard, Drew Wu, Monroe

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo Satoru, Fushiguro Toji, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Itadori Yuuji (aged up), Fushiguro Megumi (aged up)

Moriarty the Patriot: William James Moriarty, Albert James Moriarty, Louis James Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, Fred Porlock, Sebastian Moran, James Bonde

Tokyo Ghoul: Uta, Kaneki Ken, Kirishima Touka, Kirishima Ayato (re: age), Nishio Nishiki, Tsukiyama Shuu

MENU

Sizes: 

Large: Imagine (500-750 Words)

Medium: Scenario (350-500 Words)

Small: Drabble (250-350 Words)

Extra-Small: Headcanons (new headcanon style with a short blurb at the end)

Drinks: 

Latte: Fluff

Black Coffee: Whump (physical pain)

Espresso: Angst (emotional pain)

Cappuccino: Hurt/Comfort

Mocha: Paranormal (idk what this entails, but I’ll figure it out, lol)

Americano: Platonic Relationships

Smoothie: My choice! Just send in a character and a size!

Add-On Specials: 

With Spice: Victorian Era AU

With Sugar: Pirate AU

With Cream: Domestic AU

With Ice: Soulmate AU

Extra Hot: Fantasy AU

Example Order: Hello! Can I please get a large latte with spice with Tanjiro from Demon Slayer? 

Translation: Hello! Can I get a fluffy Victorian AU imagine with Tanjiro from Demon Slayer?

Example Order: Can I please order a medium black coffee with Kaneki Ken from Tokyo Ghoul?

Translation: Can I please get a whump scenario with Kaneki Ken from Tokyo Ghoul?

[fairy-writes]

Please could I order a large Cappuccino with Monro from Grimm 💙💙

BE THERE FOR HIM

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Prompt: A hurt/comfort imagine with Monroe from NBC Grimm

Word Count: 1.2k

Fandom(s): NBC Grimm

Pairing(s): Monroe x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH,

Notes: I am giving Monroe and Rosalee’s triplets names in this because idk what their names are (if they even have any) in the show

YES, I KNOW I WENT OVER THE WORD COUNT I SET

DON’T COUNT ON IT HAPPENING EVERY TIME

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You got the call at three in the morning. 

The ringing woke you up from a rather pleasant dream, and you slapped your hand on your phone in an attempt to bring it closer to you. It slips off your bedside table, and the crash is what officially wakes you up. You squint at the call screen and answer it. 

“This had better be good, Monroe.” You say sleepily, rubbing at your eyes as you disconnect your phone from its charger and roll over in bed. 

It’s silent except for a sniffle.

That was your first clue that something was terribly wrong. 

You are alert in an instant. 

“Roe? What’s wrong?” You say and sit up in bed. It was too early for him to be awake. Weren’t you just nagging him that he needed all the sleep he could get before the triplets came?

“She’s gone.” He whimpers over the phone, and you feel your heart stop. 

There was a multitude of people that could mean. But if he was this distressed…

“Monroe, what happened.” You cradle the phone between your shoulder and ear as you rifle through your closet for clothes and shoes. You end up just putting on yesterday’s clothes, and by the time you are on your way out to the car, Monroe has dissolved into tears. He’s making incoherent sounds, and all you can gather are the words “labor,” “complications,” and “bleeding.”

None of which sound good. 

Eventually, you get out of him where he is and speed all the way to Providence Portland Medical Center. Literally, your foot is pedal to the metal the entire way, and you’re pretty sure you run at least half a dozen stoplights.

But it was three-thirty AM on a Tuesday. You weren’t too worried about hitting anyone. All that mattered was getting to Monroe. Somewhere along the way, he hangs up. 

You do a horrible job at parking and all but run inside, barking out Monroe and Rosalee’s name to the receptionist at the desk. She hurriedly gives you a room number, and you’re sprinting up the stairs, taking two at a time in your haste to get to the room. 

Nick is in the hallway outside and spots you before you spot him. He is about as half-dressed as you and looks just as stressed. He runs a hand through his hair and meets you halfway down the hall. 

“What… happened...” You huff, hands on your knees, as you try to catch your breath. 

“It isn’t good—” He gets cut off by the hospital door opening, and Monroe steps out. 

He looks awful… Dark bags under his red-rimmed and puffy eyes, shirt rumpled, and you spy dried blood on his hands from where he had been supposedly clenching his fists. He sees you, and you’re all but yanked off your feet and into a hug as he dissolves into tears again. He’s taller than you, but he seems oh so small as he clings tightly to your shoulders. Wrapping your arms around his broad back, you rub up and down as you try to help calm your best friend. 

Now isn’t the time for answers. 

But you get them anyway as a body covered in a white sheet is rolled out of the hospital room and down the opposite hallway.

Oh no…

“Did Rosalee—”

“She went into labor late last night. She didn’t make it.” He says, and you hate how his voice sounds. It sounds torn, as if all the emotion in the world is poured into his words. He had always been an emotional man. It was something you admired about him. The fact that he could wear his heart on his sleeve. 

Now wasn’t the time for reminiscing. 

You whisper what you hope are words of encouragement in his ear as he cries. Nick steps away to make some phone calls, probably to Adalind or Hank. Monroe stands there, hugging you so tightly it almost hurts, for what seems like hours, but in reality is likely only minutes. 

Eventually, the doctor comes out of a room down the hall and approaches you all. 

“Mr. Monroe?” He says gently, and Monroe jumps in your arms before pulling away to face the man. 

“Yes?” He says, voice cracking in the middle. 

“Would you like to see the triplets?” He asked, and Monroe paused before wiping his nose on a handkerchief and nodding. His hand clutches yours, and you can’t bring yourself to make him let go. So you follow. There was only so much you could do in this situation other than just be there for him. 

Given it’s so early in the morning, the neonatal unit is quiet. There’s the odd sound of a baby crying, but overall, most of them are sleeping. You squeeze Monroe’s hand, and he squeezes back as the doctor instructs you to wait outside and look in through the glass as he shows you Monroe’s children. 

They’re tiny, pink little things swaddled in white blankets. Two pink hats, one blue hat. Two girls and a boy? 

They were precious. 

“What are their names?” You ask softly, and Monroe jumps, fingers tensing where they had been resting against the glass. His eyes had been locked on the three little cribs that held what was left of his wife. You were delighted to see the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

“We—we decided on George for the boy. After her dad.” He said, and you smile, they were ever the nostalgic couple. 

“And the two girls?” 

“Marie, after Nick’s Aunt Marie. We felt it was appropriate, given what Nick has done for us. And Winifred after Freddy. Rosalee said—” He scrubbed a hand down his face with his free one, “Rosalee said she always liked the name.”

You squeeze his hand again and lean your head on his shoulder. 

“They’re wonderful names. You guys did a good job.” You say, and he barks out a harsh laugh. 

“I did barely anything. Rosalee was—”

“Don’t do that to yourself.” You say gently and pull him into another hug. He gets snot on your sweater, but that’s the least of your worries. 

“You are going to be a wonderful dad. You already did so much for Rosalee while she was pregnant. Playing the cello at odd hours of the night when she couldn’t sleep? The absolute batshit crazy food runs she’d send you on? The—”

“Alright, alright, I get it!” He says, chuckling an actual happy laugh this time. Well… as happy as he could be at this point in time. He holds you close, and you rock him back and forth as the babies begin to wake up and cry for their mother. 

There wasn’t much you could do right now.

But you could be there for him and his new kids. 

[fairy-writes]

I would like a medium mocha with sugar and Edward Elric please!!!!!

-🪐

WITHOUT YOU

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Prompt: Paranormal pirate AU scenario with Edward Elric

Word Count: 0.9k (so close to 1k rip)

Fandom(s): Fullmetal Alchemist

Pairing(s): Edward Elric x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Pirate!Edward, 

Notes: You guys love giving me difficult requests lmao

This is also a female reader as opposed to my typical gender neutral :)

Trigger warning for death and drowning in this fic!

__________________________________________________________________________

You were awoken in the night by hands roughly grabbing your arms and hauling you from your hammock. You let out a scream, and someone shoved a wadded-up ball of cloth in your mouth as you struggled. 

It was your fellow crewmates. You recognized their stink. 

You were dragged, kicking, and muffled screaming up to the deck where the rain was coming down in torrents like knives. Your hands were bound, your legs tied together. A cannonball is tied to your ankles, and you are heaved to the ship’s side. 

They’re going to throw you overboard. That much is obvious. 

“STOP!”

Until…

You see him.

Edward Elric. 

The captain of the ship. One of the youngest in pirate history. 

And the love of your life.

He shoves his way through the growing crowd of pirates. His bright crimson coat had already darkened to a deep maroon in the hurricane of rain. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” He demands, shrugging someone’s hand off his shoulder and smacking someone else’s away as they try to pull him back.

“‘s bad luck to have a lady aboard, Cap'n.” At this, he scoffs,

“And I thought we didn’t put much stock into fairy tales.” He snaps, and you can see his metal hand curling into a fist.

You begin to struggle again, trying to wriggle toward your savior’s side.

That ends up being your downfall.

Seeing as you’re perched on the edge of the ship, only your crewmate’s hands holding you aboard, you begin to teeter over the side.

Right as a massive wave hits and sucks you overboard.

It feels like you are being pulled down for miles and miles by the cannonball at your feet and the waves pulling at your skin. Dragged down and down and down until you can’t see the bottom of the boat or Edward’s grief-stricken face. 

You feel as if your lungs are about to pop. The pressure from the water builds and builds. Behind your eyes, in your nose, under your tongue. You claw at your throat with bound hands, try to swim up, try to stop the sinking, but the cannonball is too heavy, and you are growing weak.

You hit something. Maybe a rock. Maybe a whale. You can’t tell. But you inhale out of reflex, coughing and inhaling more water as it invades your mouth, your nose, your lungs, your entire being. It feels thick like tar as your throat burns and constricts. Your lungs balloon and feel like they are bursting at the seams. Your body convulses. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t—

And everything goes black.

Edward sits with his head in his hands at his desk. The ship rocked back and forth. Usually, it would’ve put him to sleep, but not anymore.

You were gone. Drowned. Dead. Never to come back.

He had always prided himself on being a man of reason. A man of science. Ever since he was a boy and his mother passed away, his father lost at sea, leaving him to raise Alphonse with little help. 

But now?

He thought about putting the tiniest bit of thought into the same superstitions that killed you. Wasn’t there one about the Elixir of Life at the end of the world? He had no idea. After all, he wasn’t supposed to believe in that stuff.

It was only then that he realized something.

His room was illuminated by a bluish-green glow.

He got up, turned, and felt his jaw go slack.

Was this a prank?

You were in front of him!

You were glowing blue and green with your hair floating as if you were still in the water and water running in rivulets down your body. But it was you!

He whispers your name like a prayer to a god he didn’t believe in, and your eyes open.

You were crying.

“Eddie?” You murmur, and he feels his knees go weak at the nickname. You were the only one who could call him that. Not even Alphonse could call him that. 

“Wh—How are you here right now?” He barely manages over his thundering heartbeat. You take a shaky step forward, and he rushes to catch you before your knees buckle.

You’re cold. Freezing even. His hands are soaked instantly by your tears and the mysterious water that’s dripping down your body. But you're here and now. 

Edward gathers you in his arms and presses his nose to your soaked, floating hair. He doesn’t care that his clothes—which were drying slowly—are now wet again. All that matters is the fact that you're here.

“I don’t—I don’t understand… how—how am I here?!” You whimper, and his heart cracks at the sound. It’s like you can’t stop crying.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m—” 

Sorry?

Sorry for what?

Sorry for failing you?

For bringing you aboard when he knew his crewmate's superstitions?

For watching you sink instead of diving in to pull you out?

He realizes he’s crying. And your hand is on his cheek, looking at him with red-rimmed eyes and tears streaming your cheeks and dripping down your chin.

“Don’t cry.” You weep silently, and he smiles. 

“How can I not?” He asks, voice cracking, and you shake your head,

“Because you are still alive.” His smile drops,

“But without you.”

You begin to disappear, but not before you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“I’m never too far away.” Your whisper is but a butterfly on the wind, and he’s left alone in the dark of his quarters.