#sniffs...

[fatuismooches]

Just saw a Tiktok where this lady's husband writes her a long note before work every morning before she wakes up, maybe I'm just a delusional hopeless romantic but that just seems so Pantalone and even Capitano to me. Perhaps not every day since often you do find yourself alone in bed due to their work, but they just seem like the kind of guys to write long letters like that to you <3

Pantalone is a suave guy in general, and that extends further into his writing too. Fancy cursive writing and words so sweet. Also a large vocabulary, he is very romantic and pulls it out of thin air. He's already excellent with his words, but he likes to embed his love into things. Whether it's his gifts for you or the finest quality of paper now victim to his sincere love. And yes, he uses scented ink.

Capitano is the opposite. Kind of. He's well-spoken when he needs to be, although it still results in only a few words spoken. He doesn't need to be grand or long when he talks, many people follow him regardless for that same kind of composure. Though with you. Everything just kind of breaks into pieces. He doesn't know what to say. And even when he tries to put it into writing, it's still hard as he doesn't know what words would be most pleasing, but he still tries. Which is why you wake up with a carefully sealed letter next to your bedside. It seems so perfect, and you have no idea how many drafts he had to go through to get it that way.

[couchsterfield]

Bennington College (bret easton ellis' alma mater, and the inspiration of camden college) layout

commons

they were here... they were here 💔

[wackysach]

if i had a nickel for everytime i was cheated out of a brooding, stoic, dark-haired, sharp-toothed, facial-scar having man who wears a black coat and weilds a sword with exceptional might... well, i would only have 10 cents but i still think that's quite cruel and criminal.

[gor3-hound]

i went to rb that fun little 5 item tag game THREE times and it won't work... tumblr hates me... just know in my soul i was joining in guys

[snail-day]

Okay. Breathe, Satoru. You can do this. It's just a sleepover. Just your girlfriend. Just the person you're absolutely, irrevocably obsessed with. Who you're trying really, really hard not to scare off.

Standing in your apartment, hands shoved deep in his pockets to keep from touching everything. You’re flitting around, casual, relaxed, while he’s trying to memorize the shape of your furniture, the smell of your space, the way you hum when you walk into the kitchen.

Satoru's baby-blues locking onto the bathroom door. “I’ll, uh... shower first, if that’s okay?” like it’s the most neutral, chill request ever. It’s not. He’s sweating. His ears are pink. You nod like it’s no big deal - of course it’s no big deal - but to him? It’s a very big deal.

He gently closes the bathroom door behind him. Worries if he makes too much of a sound, he will be banned from your fine establishment. Your things are everywhere. Shampoo bottles, conditioner, your razor, a little candle half-burned on the sink, your loofah hanging from the shower knob, the loofah. He stares at it for too long.

Are we at the loofah-sharing stage? Satoru wonders, frozen in place. It’s pink. Fluffy. It looks soft, and it’s yours, and he’s fighting every stupid urge in his body. “Don’t be weird,” muttering aloud, as if he can command himself into normalcy. Still, his fingers twitch. He holds it. Briefly. Gently. Just for a second. Just to say he did.

Then comes the body wash. He squirts out the tiniest amount and rubs it between his hands like it’s precious perfume. The scent hits him and he nearly slides down the wall. You smell like this. You smell like this all the time. How is he supposed to survive? Because now he smells like you.

Pressing his face into the steam and pretends it’s your neck. He’s sick. Maybe a little pathetic. He knows it. But he’s also just so in love. What can a guy do?

When he steps out, face flushed and hair damp, he feels like a teenage boy at his crush’s house for the first time - which, in his mind, he kinda is. You’re waiting for him in pajamas, makeup wiped off, looking soft and sleepy and so perfectly you. He thinks he might pass out.

And then… brushing teeth together. Should be simple. Should be normal. But nothing is normal around you. He’s beside you at the sink, trying to play it cool while your shoulder brushes his. You hum to yourself while brushing, glancing at him through the mirror, and he nearly foams at the mouth. Or maybe that’s the toothpaste. He’s not sure.

Then he sees it.

A little blob of foam at the corner of your lips.

Something happens to him. Something dark and unspeakable. He wants to kiss it away. He wants to lick it off your mouth like a psychopath. He stares. Blinks. Shakes his head like a wet dog. Absolutely not. No. Stop it.

What’s wrong with you, scolding himself. She’s just brushing her teeth. Like a person. A very pretty, perfect person.

He spits. Rinses. Avoids eye contact. Looks at the drain. Looks at your spit down the drain. Another weird thought. One that must be suppressed.

And then it’s time. Bedtime. Final boss.

Your bed is small. Cozy. Absolutely infested with plushies. He pretends to be annoyed but he secretly loves them. Even if they are plotting to kick him off the edge of the mattress. He climbs in carefully, unsure which plush is your favorite. Unsure what you'd do if he accidentally knocked one little guy off the floor. The blanket smells like your laundry. Like home. Like the future he wants with you.

You’re already under the covers, blinking at him sleepily, smile soft and content. Wearing his shirt and not much else. The fabric rides up your thighs and he has to look away before his brain fully melts. He deserves a prize for not making a move. Deciding to lay on his back, stiff, hands folded like he’s in a coffin. He doesn’t touch you. Not even a pinky. Be good, chanting to himself. Be good. You like her. You love her. You’re not a perv, you’re not a perv.

You shift closer.

A leg brushes his. A sigh escapes your lips. Your hand settles gently on his stomach like it belongs there.

He almost cries, something between a half whimper and a wheeze leaves his throat.

Slowly, carefully, he slides his arm around your waist. You don’t flinch. Don’t pull away. You lean into him.

He swears he hears wedding bells.

You fall asleep just like that, face nestled against his shoulder, breath even and slow. And he lies there, heart racing, brain fried, blinking up at the ceiling, Satoru would be getting no sleep tonight.

His thoughts are a mess: She’s so pretty. Is she really mine? What if I kissed her forehead? No, too soon. Maybe not. God, her skin is soft. I should move in. Tomorrow. Today. Right now. No, bad. Calm down. Be cool. Be a good boyfriend. Don’t get a boner. You’re cuddling. It’s fine. Just breathe. You’re okay. This is okay. Everything is okay.

He wants to. Touch you, that is. Just your waist. Just a hand on your back. Just to pull you closer and feel your heartbeat against his chest. But he doesn’t. He stays perfectly still. He doesn’t want to push anything. You haven’t done that yet, and he’d rather die than make you uncomfortable.

Except nothing’s okay. Because he’s so in love it physically hurts. Because you’re sleeping peacefully and trusting him with this little moment, and all he wants is to stay like this forever.

How are you sleeping so peacefully while he’s over here thinking about nothing but how perfect yoh are?

[staruie]

where my fellow monster fuckers at 👅👅👅👅👅👅

[1alchemistart]

cries mournfully. guess who's been reading fics lately JSDFKLSDKL

[applestruda]

A doodle of fernsfield sniff

[chloesimaginationthings]

You think FNAF Helpy misses Michael sometimes?

[geezmarty]

anyway I started playing aai

[ugly-bug-starscream]

Reunited

(TFOne AU)

[lasagoofs]

your honor I can't stop thinking about them

[beelumi]

You are the hero of this world. Now go forth, and save the dragon ー 🌟 happy bday scara ♡

[linvaniin]

seeing

[kuzka]