#anyway hello again smile for me fandom

[captorkinnie-deactivated20187224]

introducing kamal to grigory must have been a Situation for habit i think

[fluentmoviequoter]

Poisonously Bad Day

Requested Here! (Thank you so much for my first Tim Bradford req!!)

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: Just before your anniversary with Tim, you receive threatening messages. When someone tries to take your life, you and Tim learn the importance of talking to one another. (Or, Tim's crazy ex stalks you and Tim gets really worried about you.)

Warnings: reader is stalked and threatened, violence with a nail gun, reader has severe food allergies and uses an epi-pen, a little bit of grumpy x sunshine with our favorite grump, angst to fluff & hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4.1k+ words

A/N: I do not have much practice writing for Tim, so I apologize if he's OOC. However, I really love writing for him and trying to capture his amazing character, so I love the practice and appreciate any other requests you send me! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

Tim Bradford doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Or he didn’t before he met you. Your sunny personality drew him in, making his world a little brighter. From the moment he met you a few months ago, Tim has been enraptured by you. He’s still grumpy; his personality didn’t change overnight upon meeting you, but your sweet laugh and kind responses to his grumpiness make him happy. His smile isn’t as rare as it once was, but you still fight to see it, bringing as much sunshine as possible.

As your two-month anniversary approaches, you’re happier and giddier than usual. Toning it down as you knock on Tim’s door, you’re surprised to see him already smiling when he invites you in. It seems you’re rubbing off on him, even if he only shows you the softness that lies under the grumpy Tim you know and love. Although your relationship is very new, you haven’t even learned much about Tim’s previous relationships, you know you love him and treasure every moment you spend with your man of honor.

“Hey, you,” Tim mumbles, pulling you into a warm hug. “Missed you.”

“Long day?” you ask, pushing your fingers through his hair.

“Unbelievably. Nolan and Lopez decided to interrogate me about why I was in a ‘good mood’ all day.”

You stifle a laugh at Tim’s air quotes. He rolls his eyes when he sees your bright smile but pulls you into the kitchen anyway.

“I didn’t even know you could smile,” you tease him. “Now I want to know what caused the good mood.”

“I think you know.”

Despite his initial hesitance in getting close to you, Tim obviously knows how to treat you right and make you feel seen, appreciated, beautiful, and loved. Each moment you spend with him makes you a little more curious as to why no one has snatched him up yet. Yes, he’s grumpy, but he’s also just a big teddy bear underneath if you’re willing to dig.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim usually walks you home after dates, but he gets called into work, so you return alone. There is a small envelope slipped in the space between your door and the jamb, and you decide to open it before going inside.

The simple message reading ‘Back Off’ doesn’t give much information, so you shrug as you unlock the door. It’s probably just some kids messing around or a silly prank that ended up at the wrong house.

As soon as you lock the door behind you, your phone rings.

“Hello,” you greet cheerfully.

The line is silent for a few seconds before it beeps, disconnected from the other end.

“Wrong number,” you hum to yourself as you walk away from the phone.

When it rings again, you don’t answer. Your cell phone rings, a rare picture of Tim smiling (that he will delete as soon as he finds it) lighting up your screen as you race to answer it.

“Hey,” you say.

“I called your house a second ago, are you home yet?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, someone called right before with a wrong number, and I thought it was them again.”

Tim hums before telling you he wouldn’t be at work as long as he thought; he just needed to help with some paperwork before a case went to court.

“I can get reservations for next weekend if you’re still okay with my restaurant choice.”

You smile at Tim’s willingness to let you choose before assuring him that you only want to be with him, but you like the food there, too, so it’s a win-win.

After Tim hangs up, you fall asleep, forgetting about the note and the phone call.

✯✯✯✯✯

Someone knocks on your door as you exit your bedroom the following morning. You locate a bathrobe, pulling it over your pajamas before opening the door. Another envelope is on your mat, but no one is in sight.

The message in this one is a bit more concerning. The message, typed in a plain black font, reads: ‘I will KILL you to take him back.’

You consider calling Tim, asking him if he knows of any pranks like this going on in the neighborhood before deciding he’s probably too busy with real police work. Maybe you’re just paranoid.

Your cell phone rings, and you answer quickly, silencing when the only noise on the other end is distorted breathing. After they hang up, your thumb hovers over Tim’s number. 

“Grow up,” you chide yourself before returning to your room to get ready.

✯✯✯✯✯

Throughout the day, more creepy phone calls are made to your cell phone until you finally turn it off. When you meet Tim for lunch, he asks if you got the message he sent you, and you tell him a white lie: too many telemarketers were calling, and you turned it off. He nods, but his gaze is intense like he doesn’t quite believe you.

✯✯✯✯✯

After three days of phone calls with nothing but breathing and more notes about someone killing you to get whoever him is back from you, you’re tired. However, the morning goes by with no calls, and you think maybe whatever it was is finally over. When you walk out to your car, you freeze in the driveway and nearly drop everything you’re holding. 

Someone has slashed your tire and put a large building nail through it to attach a note.

You are next.

Up to this point, you’ve been more agitated than anything, but now you’re scared. Whoever this is has been close to you and knows when you come and go. But, at the same time, it’s just some notes and phone calls, not like you’re in any immediate danger.

Your phone buzzes, and you jump, an incoming text from Tim startling you. You reply to his message quickly, telling him you ran over a nail at some point and won’t be able to meet him for lunch. Seconds after pressing send, he calls you.

“Morning,” you answer, staring at the nail in your tire.

“Are you alright?” he asks, ignoring your nice greeting.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m still at home, just noticed the tire.”

“I can come pick you up for lunch,” he offers. “Or come see you.”

“It’s completely out of the way, Tim, no worries. I’ll make up for it tomorrow?”

Tim doesn’t speak for a moment, and you can nearly see the crease on his forehead as he dissects your answers.

“Sure,” he says finally. “Call me if that changes.”

As he ends the call, he rubs his chin and decides to ask you what’s going on next time he sees you. You had been so happy and excited leading up to your anniversary, but it’s like a switch was flipped in you, and now you don’t want to talk to him. He believes you about the tire, but something else is bothering you, and he intends to find out what.

✯✯✯✯✯

Eating lunch at your desk, someone brings you a box from your favorite bakery.

“This was delivered to the front desk,” your coworker says, leaving it with you.

There are no names on it, but Tim is one of very few people who knows how much you like their treats. He also knows that you have severe food allergies, and it is one of the few bakeries in Los Angeles that happily works around them. Smiling at the idea of Tim sending you something after your rough morning, you open the box and take one of the goodies out.

After the third or fourth bite, you realize something is really wrong. As your throat closes, you start to panic as you dig through your bag for your epi-pen. One of the girls at a desk near you sees you and rushes to your aid, pulling your spare epi-pen from the communal snack area and inserting the tip into your leg as she yells for someone else to call 911.

The adrenaline surges into you, clearing your throat as you take a deep breath. Immediately, you know that whoever slashed your tires knows more than where you live and when you leave.

✯✯✯✯✯

The hospital is busy, and people are in and out of your room so frequently that you can barely think straight. You hear someone yell your name, recognizing Tim’s voice anywhere. He appears in the doorway a moment later, wide-eyed as he looks you over.

“I completely forgot I put you as my emergency contact. I’m so sorry,” you apologize lowly.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice softer than it was outside as he nears your side.

“I- I ate something and forgot to check the ingredients. Then I couldn’t find my epi-pen.”

Tim knows you always check the ingredients; your allergies dictate part of your life. If you didn’t make it or order it after inquiring about its ingredients or how it’s made, you don’t eat it. 

“How are you feeling now?” Tim asks, deciding it’s not the best time to press for the truth. His hand lands on your leg, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.

“I’m okay. My chest is still a little tight but they gave me something for it.”

“Let me call my chief and I’ll take the rest of the day off so I can take you home,” he offers.

“No, don’t do that, Tim. One of my coworkers can give me a ride home so you can go back to work.”

“I don’t think you should be alone.”

“The medicine is working, I just have to give it time and take it easy for a few hours. I promise I will be fine.”

Tim nods, squeezing your hand before kissing your forehead. “If you need anything, call me.”

You nod, watching him go. The feeling of his hand on yours is still there, and you feel terrible for lying to him, but there’s no real evidence that someone is trying to hurt you. Maybe someone was trying to be kind with the treats and didn’t know about your allergies.

Even as you think it, you realize it sounds ridiculous. You’re in danger, and you’re going to have to tell someone eventually.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your coworker drops you off after you insist you can walk to the door alone. Mostly, you don’t want her to see the giant nail in your tire.

Worse, you realize, is the other one. You slow when you see your front door, with a six-inch building nail driven into it. It’s nearly level with your eyes, and a disgusting mix of red and brown paint covers the door below it. A replica of a murder scene, you presume.

Finally understanding that every little thing over the last few days has been a threat, you don’t feel safe alone in your house. Stepping back, you prepare to call Tim.

Before you can, you see a woman standing in your driveway, staring at you with a nail gun and a paintbrush hanging from her hand.

“Who are you?” you ask quietly, swallowing as you try to steady your voice.

“I’m the one that Tim Bradford is supposed to be with,” she answers, slowly moving toward you. “Everyone could see how good we were together. Then you showed up and he changed his mind about me. Whatever you did to get him away from me… I will do so much more to you.”

You step backward as she speaks, fumbling with your keys behind your back. Just as she reaches the front of your porch, you step inside quickly and slam the door, locking it and looking around frantically for something you can use as a weapon. It gets quiet outside, not even a footstep audible as you hold your breath to listen.

A key slides easily into your lock, and you scramble into the kitchen, loosening your grip on your stuff to grab a knife on your way to the bathroom, one of the only doors that lock. The front door closes and locks, her easy footsteps far too familiar with the layout of your home.

Reaching for your phone to call for help, you realize that you dropped your phone to get the knife. You stand in front of the bathtub, terrified as you raise the knife in front of your chest. 

After a moment of silence that seems to last an eternity, the doorknob jiggles. You tighten your grip on the knife handle as she hums. 

A nail shoots through the lock, lodging in the metal mechanisms, and you back up until your calves are pressed to the cool side of the tub. Another nail comes through the door, launching through the hollow wood and lodging into the tile on the wall behind you. You drop your head as the tile shatters, and a third nail follows quickly, her aim much lower as it hooks your pants, pinning you to the porcelain behind you. You rip your leg free, stepping away from the tub and failing to notice the stinging sensation or the blood trickling down your ankle as you climb into the tub, hoping it offers enough protection.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim clenches his jaw when his third call to you goes unanswered. You promised to keep him updated after the anaphylaxis scare, but it’s been a couple hours since he left you in the hospital, and he hasn't heard a thing.

“Tim, just go,” Angela says, a knowing look on her face. “You won’t be able to focus until you know they’re okay. Unless you’re finally willing to tell me who brought a little sunshine to Timothy Bradford’s cloudy skies,” she taunts at the end.

Tim lets out a soft “hmm,” accepting her offer and gathering his things from the edge of her desk.

“She must be important,” Angela calls behind him, smirking to herself when he doesn’t correct her.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your breaths are loud and shaky even as you focus on controlling them. Several more clicks are heard from the nail gun, and you flinch each time, curling further into the bathtub. A loud screech draws your attention, a second nail dislodging the knob and the lock before the door opens.

You take your chance, hoping to surprise her as you jump toward her, knocking her to the floor and using both hands to point the nail gun away from you. She tries to roll out from under you, squeezing the trigger and firing a nail into the ceiling as she does. A small shower of drywall dust coats the room, but you keep your head down, entirely focused on keeping her at arm’s length.

“When it ends – when you end – I get him back!” she grunts, twisting in your grasp.

The sharper end of the paintbrush she had earlier is pushed into your side, and you gasp, loosening your grip on the nail gun. She raises it quickly as she tilts to the side, dumping you onto the floor and taking the upper hand. A nail is fired beside your head, momentarily deafening you as you flinch away from it.

You are unsure if she said him or Tim, but you think she means the same either way. Tim is the only thing you can think of that someone might want to take back from you.

“Isn’t that his choice?” you ask, pushing her hands away from you as she gets angrier.

She drops the paintbrush before using both hands to push the nail gun toward your forehead. You raise your legs, kicking her forward and over your head. As she topples, she squeezes the trigger multiple times. After the last firing sound, you open your eyes and notice a nail holding your shirt to the floor.

When you hear her groan behind you, you reach over until you feel the metal trash can beside your toilet, raising it over your head and dropping it aimlessly.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim has dozens of questions he wants to ask, but as he races to your house, they slowly fade into two: are you safe, and how can he make you see that telling him everything will benefit you both? He knows he doesn’t always seem like the best listener and isn’t big on sharing, but he wants to know what is happening in your life, what you’re feeling, and what you’re dealing with. More than that, he wants to be at your side, helping you navigate a life with him.

✯✯✯✯✯

The door opens with a loud bang, causing you to flinch. You attempt to sit up before yelping in pain when something tugs your side. Someone is running through your house, and you’re torn between yelling for help or staying silent in case she wasn’t working alone.

Tim yells your name, and you sigh before answering, “In the bathroom.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When Tim turns into your driveway, blocking the sidewalk as he parks behind your car, he sees the oversized nail protruding from your tire. Walking past it, he knows that wasn’t accidental, nor was the slash below it.

Worried about you and racking his brain over who would do something like that to you, he sees the scene on your door and kicks it open before he even thinks to knock.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim stops in the hallway, his eyes raking over the nails lining the door and the few stray ones in the wall across the hallway. It appears that most of the attack was aimed at the bathroom, but whatever happened escalated quickly.

Using his shoulder, he forcefully opens the door before entering the small bathroom. He steps over your unconscious assailant, lowering to his knee beside you. Looking over you, he lays a hand on the side of your neck, a warm and welcome comfort as he directs you to look at him.

You try to move closer to him, but he rushes to stop you.

“Don’t. Don’t move. The ambulance and more help are on the way, let’s just wait for them,” he says.

You nod, trusting him but unsure why he won’t let you move.

“Is she…” you ask, trailing off.

“She’s unconscious,” Tim answers concisely. “What’d you hit her with?”

“The trashcan,” you answer, a small smile appearing and making Tim shake his head.

“I should get one of those,” Tim jokes, leaning toward you.

Sirens grow louder as they get closer, and Tim sighs in relief.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “I can’t ask what happened yet, that’s for the next cop. But as your boyfriend, are you okay?”

“I am now,” you answer, raising your hand to lay over his on your jaw.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Do you know who she is?” the officer asks as the EMT sits beside you.

“No,” you answer. “I’ve been getting phone calls and messages for a few days, but I’ve never seen her before.”

“I have,” Tim interjects, shaking his head at you before supplying a name. “My ex.”

“Any idea as to why she attacked you?” the officer asks, glancing toward Tim.

“Sergeant Bradford, I presume. She said she’d kill me to get him back, but never said who him was,” you answer.

Tim nods, lowering his voice to explain something to the officer as the EMT asks questions about how you feel.

You sigh in relief as the paramedics carry Tim’s unconscious ex out, gripping Tim’s hand as he moves to your side again.

“This is going to hurt, I’m sorry,” the kind EMT says.

Tim moves his fingers, letting you squeeze him as much as you need.

“The nail caught some of your skin, but I’m going to try to go fast to minimize the pain.”

Understanding why it hurt to sit up before, you focus on Tim’s hand in yours rather than the hands on your torso, working to free you from the bathroom floor and stop the bleeding.

“All done,” the EMT announces. “You didn’t even flinch. We’ll get you to the hospital and let the doctors check everything.”

You sit up with Tim’s help, leaning against him as a temporary bandage is placed on your side. Looking around your destroyed bathroom, you move closer to Tim, grateful for him.

“Your ex is crazy,” you mumble against his shoulder.

Tim laughs, and it's a short but relieved noise accompanying his arm across your back, keeping you close and comforted.

“We’ll fix the bathroom later,” he promises.

You tilt your head and furrow your brows, prompting Tim to kiss the crease between them. “You’re not coming back here for a few days. Don’t give me that look.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Leaving the hospital, Tim lifts you from the wheelchair, staring at you when you grab his shoulders.

“I can walk, Tim,” you remind him.

He doesn’t listen or doesn’t care, taking the last few steps to the passenger seat and setting you down before buckling your seat belt, mindful of your bandaged side. He carries you into his house, grabbing some of your favorite snacks and drinks before sitting beside you and welcoming you into his arms. He’s quiet, but you’ve grown to understand Tim’s different silences better than most people’s words.

Right now, he’s relieved, but you’re sure he has a lot of questions, too. Getting him to ask them is the hard part.

“Have any other exes I should know about?” you ask after a few minutes.

“Hmm.” He raises his fingers as he nods and shakes his head, a playful ‘debate’ over who is worthy of being mentioned. Lowering his hands and giving you a sincere look, he says, “No, I don’t think so. And I’m sorry I didn’t mention her, I never expected she’d do something like this.”

You nod, though you never considered blaming him for something so completely out of his control. This is all on her, and she’ll have a chance to explain herself.

“Think I’d be a crazy ex?”

“You won’t be an ex at all,” Tim answers, tugging you closer against his chest.

Turning toward him, you trace your finger in small shapes over his chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Tim asks gently.

You shrug. “I didn’t know how. And it wasn’t that bad at first.”

“You have to tell me these things or I don’t know something is wrong, I can’t help.”

“But you get grumpy,” you reply with an exaggerated pout.

Tim proves you right, grumbling even as he kisses you. “I’m allowed to be grumpy when someone is hurting the woman I love.”

You sit up quickly, and Tim’s eyes widen, his hands raising to your side as he grows concerned that you hurt yourself.

“You love me?”

Tim shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he mutters, “Against my better judgment, yes.”

You giggle at his grumpiness, leaning back into his side. He pulls your legs across his lap, letting you curl completely into his side. Toying with the hem of his your borrowed sweatpants, Tim lets his mind wander before tracing a gentle finger around the bandage on your ankle.

“Tickles,” you argue when you yank your leg away from him.

Tim pulls your leg back down, pointing out, “I deserve a few tickles after the week you put me through.”

“I was poisoned, and you had a bad week?” you repeat.

“I knew you were lying, you lying liar that lies!”

You duck your head at the reminder of everything you kept from Tim over the last few days. The anniversary you were so excited about now seems tainted.

“Hey,” Tim whispers, drawing your attention. “I’m not mad at you. And whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’m right here.”

“I don’t even know how she found out about the allergies,” you mumble.

“That’s probably my fault. I have notes and epi-pens everywhere, so if she was close enough to do this to you, she was close enough to find any of my stuff laying around.”

You shiver at the idea of her going through your things, but Tim’s hand rubs down your back and chases those thoughts away.

Taking his invitation, you start at the beginning and tell him about the notes, the phone calls, the bakery box, and how the little, seemingly harmless notes progressed so quickly. He grows grumpier with each word, so you determine you may need to make the ending a bit more interesting for him.

“And then my knight in shining armor showed up and saved the day,” you finish, kissing his cheek. “He’s just a grumpy teddy bear.”

Tim pulls you closer, glad to have your company again. “Tell me things and I’ll be even more of a teddy bear.”

You smile excitedly, so Tim clarifies, “Only for you.”

[tulipatheticee]

i've been waiting for you

violet bridgerton x youngest! daughter

bridgerton siblings x younger! sibling

synopsis; From the moment Edmund Bridgerton passed, leaving his wife widowed with eight children and one on the way, Violet found herself adrift until the arrival of Isadora, her youngest daughter. Isadora, quiet and calm, becomes Violet's constant companion in bustling Mayfair, offering solace and steadfast support at her mother's side.

word count; 1.3k

master list

a/n; i have arisen yet again, this is my first bridgerton fic so hello to the brigderton tag! i have archived all my old stuff because they are old and tbh the fandoms have died SO LET ME INTRODUCE MYSELF

my name is tulippa and im from sicily, im pretty confident in my english now but let me know if you see any errors! i mainly write fluffy family stuff like this, i love it idk. if you like this and want to see more like it let me know and ill provide for you! but its not like i wont write x reader romance cmon of course i will, but im best at parentxchild and siblings (PLATONIC ALWAYS DONT BE WEIRD) anyways i could go on and on but i wont, enjoy!!!

kinda proof read, kinda not, you've been warned

I'll carry you all the way

Violet Bridgerton had weathered many storms in her life, but none so devastating as the loss of her beloved husband, Edmund. His passing left her shattered, a widow with eight children to care for and another on the way. The pregnancy was fraught with complications, exacerbated by Violet's grief and the toll it took on her health.

Days turned into months as Violet withdrew into herself, mourning Edmund's absence even as life continued around her. Her family rallied, but Violet's sorrow was a heavy veil that separated her from them. It was during those long, solitary hours that she felt the weight of loneliness and the fear of losing both husband and child.

And you'll choose the day

The labour came unexpectedly, fierce and unforgiving. Violet's strength waned, her heart weary from loss and longing. The doctors and midwives worked tirelessly, their faces etched with concern. Hours passed like eternity until finally, a cry pierced the air—a fragile, yet determined cry that signalled new life.

Isadora was born amidst tears and relief, a tiny bundle of hope wrapped in Violet's trembling arms. The room, once fraught with fear, now glowed with a soft, golden light as mother and daughter gazed at each other for the first time. In that moment, everything seemed to still, and Violet knew she had been granted a miracle.

When you're prepared to greet me

She named her daughter Isadora, after the delicate Dahlia flower that Edmund had loved tending in their garden—a reminder of the beauty that bloomed even in the darkest of times.

As Isadora grew, she became Violet's constant companion, a beacon of joy and innocence in the Bridgerton household. Her older siblings doted on her, especially Anthony, Benedict, and Colin, who saw in her a reflection of their lost father's spirit. Isadora's laughter filled the halls of Bridgerton House and her curious mind sought solace in the quiet moments spent with her mother.

One afternoon, in the hushed serenity of the drawing room, Isadora sat at the pianoforte while Violet embroidered nearby. The soft melodies Isadora coaxed from the keys wove through the air, a testament to her growing talent and Violet's nurturing guidance.

"Does this sound right, Mama?" Isadora asked, her voice a melody in itself.

Violet looked up from her embroidery, a fond smile gracing her lips. "It sounds perfect, darling. You have a gift."

Isadora beamed with pride, her small hands continuing their dance over the keys. Despite her tender age, she played with a grace that belied her years, a testament to the bond she shared with her mother and the legacy of love that surrounded her.

I'll be a good mum, I swear

Anthony, Benedict, and Colin entered the room together, their voices low with shared memories and unspoken affection for their youngest sister. Anthony, ever the protective eldest brother, approached Isadora and knelt beside her.

"How are you today, Isa?" he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

"I am well, Anthony," Isadora replied, her gaze never leaving the keys. "Mama teaches me a new piece every day."

"Is that so?" Benedict chimed in, leaning over to peer at the sheet music. "You are quite talented, little one."

"Indeed," Colin added with a smile. "Father would have been proud."

Violet's heart swelled with bittersweet emotion at the mention of Edmund. She had feared she might forget the sound of his voice or the warmth of his touch, but in Isadora, she found echoes of him that kept his memory alive.

You'll see how much I care

"Mama, are you well?" Isadora asked suddenly, sensing the shift in her mother's mood.

Violet blinked back tears, her hand reaching out to clasp Isadora's. "I am well, my love. I am with you, and that is enough."

Isadora nodded solemnly, her understanding far beyond her years. Together, they continued their afternoon ritual, finding solace in music and shared moments that bridged the gap between past sorrows and future joys.

When you meet me

------------

In the sunlit gardens of Bridgerton House, where the scent of roses mingled with the laughter of children, Isadora found herself in the company of her older sister, Hyacinth, and brother, Gregory. Despite their lively spirits, they adapted to Isadora's quieter demeanour, creating a harmony that transcended their differences.

You thrill me, you delight me

"Isa, look what I found!" Hyacinth exclaimed, holding a caterpillar in her small hands with excitement.

Isadora approached cautiously, her eyes widening with curiosity. "Oh, wow! What is it?"

Gregory, always eager to share his knowledge, chimed in, "It's a caterpillar, Isa! Hyacinth and I were just talking about how it turns into a butterfly."

Hyacinth nodded eagerly. "Yes, Isa! It's like magic! One day, it will have beautiful wings and fly everywhere!"

Isadora's face lit up with wonder. "That's amazing! Can I hold it?"

Hyacinth carefully passed the caterpillar to Isadora, who watched it crawl across her palm with fascination. Gregory leaned in, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Let's play tag, Isa! You're it!"

You please me, you excite me

Isadora giggled as Gregory darted away, Hyacinth joining in the chase. "Catch us if you can, Isa!"

Isadora laughed, her heart light as she chased after her siblings through the garden paths, their laughter mingling with the rustle of leaves and the gentle hum of bees. Despite their differences in temperament, they found joy in each other's company, weaving memories that would last a lifetime.

You're all that

I've been yearning for

— —- —- —- —-

In the quiet of evening, as the Bridgerton family gathered for supper, Isadora remained close to Violet's side. Gregory and Hyacinth, full of youthful exuberance, regaled their siblings with tales of mischief and adventure, and how Isadora won tag earlier in the afternoon. The three eldest Brigderton men shared the lovely pianoforte they witnessed Isadora performing in the morning and spoke of how she is progressing very, while Eloise, Francesca, and Daphne shared knowing glances over the table.

I love you, I adore you

"Isa, do you have to be better than us at everything?" Eloise teased playfully, nudging Isadora with her elbow.

Isadora looked up, a hint of confusing in her eyes, she went to speak before Violet interjected “ "Eloise is just being foolish, darling, she means well”

Isadora quickly understood and replied "I only wish to be like everyone else Eloise, you are so clever, and Francesca is so graceful, and Daphne—"

"—is the epitome of charm," Francesca finished with a smile, her gaze softening as she looked at her youngest sister.

I lay my life before you

Daphne reached across the table to tousle Isadora's hair gently. "You are quite the storyteller yourself, Isa. Perhaps one day you'll write tales that surpass even Eloise's wild adventures."

Isadora's face lit up with delight at the praise from her sisters. "Do you really think so, Daphne?"

"Absolutely," Daphne assured her. "You have a way with words and a heart as big as all of Mayfair."

I only want you more and more

Violet watched the exchange with a tender smile, her heart swelling with pride at the bond between her daughters. Despite the challenges they had faced as a family, moments like these reminded her of the joy that filled their lives.

And finally it seems

My lonely days are through

Later that night, as Isadora drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the love of her siblings, Violet tucked her in with a sense of peace. The Bridgertons, each unique in their strengths and passions, formed a tapestry of love and support that would guide Isadora through the years ahead.

I've been waiting for you

"You are so loved, Isadora," Violet whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her daughter's forehead. "Never doubt that."

Isadora stirred, a contented smile playing on her lips. 

I've been waiting…

And as Violet watched over her sleeping daughter, she knew that the bonds of siblinghood, and the enduring love of family would carry Isadora through any storm that life might bring.

…For you

pt2

a/n pt2; thats it guys :( i actually had so much fun writing this and if you want anymore of violet and isa or any of the siblings with isa let me know because i'd love for this to become a little oneshot series typa thing! your feedback is greatly appreciated <3

all my love!

~tulippa

[rosenclaws]

Hi love, I hope you’re doing well! I’ve been a fan of (stalking but let’s not talk about it) your blog for a little while, but this is the first time I’ve sent in a request for you! Your writing for Leopold is literally the sweetest ever and you’re the only writer I know of that actively writes for him, it’s so dry out here!! I was wondering if I could request something fluffy with Leopold x fem!reader where is like the most tooth-rotting fluff you can think of. I’m talking him trying to court the reader even though it’s the modern day and that’s not really a thing anymore and shes a bit confused but loves it, a super touchy reader that loves to shower Leo with her affection, literally anything. Those are just ideas, feel free to be as creative as you’d like (and don’t be shy if you wanna make it a longer fic, I’ll take what I can get). This fandom (if I can even call it that) is such a barren wasteland for fanfics and you are such an amazing writer for him and just in general!!

Much love 💕

Courting || Leopold Mountbatten x Reader

a/n: Hi!! Okay I kinda took this in a slightly different direction so if its not what you wanted then plz feel free to send in another request (ik they're closed but I will make an exception) ALSO FUCK HES SO HANDSOME IM GONNA SCREAM

wc: 1.2k

warning: reader wears lipstick

The last thing you expected was to find a neatly written letter waiting for you when you got home. Pinned neatly to the door with a small rose attached to it. You recognized Leopold's handwriting immediately, no one else you know has such beautiful penmanship.

There’s a flutter of butterflies in your stomach as you open the letter. You and Leopold have gotten very close to each other. He’s unbelievably charming and so sweet and he’s just everything. The way he looks at you, it makes you feel like the only one in the world.

Hello my love,

I am writing to ask if you would do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner and a show this Friday night. I have found myself completely captured by your beauty, you live in my every thought. Every breath I breathe for you and every beat of my heart calls your name. I wish to court you and have the honor of calling you mine.

Your dearest Leopold

You read the letter once, and then again and again. Your fingers trace each letter. Never have you had anyone say something so precious to you before. The rose smells fresh and sweet, he must have gotten it this morning. You hurry to write him a reply, accepting his offer with great enthusiasm.

Folding the letter you press your lips the corner of the paper leaving a lipstick mark. Leopold lives just down the hall so you walk over. Just as you’re about to slip the letter under the door it swings open.

“Leo!” You squeak out as stand back up, almost knocking your head into his chest.

"Hello darling." He's dressed in casual clothes and my god you need to thank whoever introduced him to sweatpants. Anyways.

"I see you received my letter." You bite your lip as you hand over your letter. His name written as fancy as you can.

"Yeah, it was really sweet Leo." He takes the letter and you swear he blushes a little when he sees the lipstick mark. He stares at you for a while, with that perfect smile and gorgeous eyes.

"I uh, I'll see you Friday." His eyes light up at your words.

"I'll see you Friday my love." He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles.

You manage to keep it together as he shuts the door but once you make it back to your apartment you're melting. A giddy feeling you haven't felt in years. You have to wonder how he will attempt to court you in modern day. People don't really court anymore but all you care about is that you have a date with Leopold. Friday couldn't come fast enough.

You had never felt this nervous before. Spending way too long getting ready just to be done an hour early. It's just Leopold, you know Leopold. There's no reason to be nervous but you can't stop the tornado of worry brewing inside of you.

What if something goes wrong? Or the date goes horrible? What if he decides he doesn't like you anymore? What if this ruins your friendship. You shake your head and try to dispel any bad thoughts.

Tonight was going to be great. It has to be. There's a knock at the door and you quickly double check everything before opening it. Any worry still residing in your mind disappears. A beautiful bouquet of flowers is handed to you as Leopold is dressed to the nines. A crisp white shirt and black pants.

"They're beautiful." You say admiring the flowers. Fresh and absolutely gorgeous.

"Not as beautiful as you." Leopold says, barely at a whisper. Like he can't believe that you've even agreed to a date with him. He can't help but admire everything about you. To your smile, your beauty, your laugh, your voice. You're perfect.

You place the flowers in a vase and then the two of you are off. He rests his hand on your back as you walk through the city. His thumb draws circles in your back as you approach the restaurant. He's planned everything himself and he can't help but hope it's enough for you.

Dinner is lovely and the conversation flows without any awkwardness. You're talking to your friend Leopold but you know there's something more as you slowly get closer to each other as the night goes on. Hidden away in the corner booth you are free to get lost in each others eyes. Though you wish you could stay here all night he promised a show. Leopold loved the theater and he promised one day to take you and tonight was the night.

"How did you get such good seats?" You ask as he waits for you to sit before he does.

"I have my ways darling." You're hyper aware of just how close the two of you had gotten at dinner and how close you are now.

The show is interesting yes but Leopold was a very distracting man. Your hands inch closer together. Glancing over at Leopold you find him already looking at you. He waits for your silent approval, not wanting to cross an boundaries. So you take the leap. Intertwining your hands together.

A faint blush on his face and a big smile on yours. His hands are so warm and they fit so perfectly with your hand. When the show ends you reluctantly head back home. You don't want this night to end. Your hands swing together as you gush about the play.

"I had a wonderful night Leopold," You're leaning against your door, wanting so badly to keep the night going. His hair swoops perfectly in front of his forehead and he's got this pretty smile that you can't stop staring at.

"So did I, Thank you for accompanying me tonight." His eyes drift to your lips.

It's adorable seeing just how old school he really is. You know he's from 1876 but still. Modern boys pale in comparison to Leopold.

"You know you don't have to be so nervous Leo, I want to kiss you too." You say boldly.

He chuckles, ducking his head as bites his lip softly. He cups your face gently and you close eyes as he gently captures your lips in a kiss. He's gentle and sweet and you crave more. Still he pulls away much too soon. You pout slightly and he laughs.

"I know I'm much more traditional than you're used to." He traces your lips with his thumb. Admiring every little detail of your face.

"But someone as wonderful as you deserves to be treated with the upmost respect." He kisses your forehead gently.

"You deserve to be loved," Another kiss.

"To be cherished," Another.

"And to be worshiped." Words fail you completely. Leopold has rendered you utterly speechless.

"Did I overstep?" He asks, worried about you silence.

You shake your head. practically jumping into him as you kiss him. Passionately running your hands through his hair. He groans slightly as you tug on his hair. He pushes you against the wall, bracing your head with his hand as he kisses back.

"I'm falling in love with you." He whispers. A hopeful glint in his eyes.

"I'm already in love with you." You admit.

You become lost in his lips as he kisses you again. He just can't get enough. You blindly reach for the door handle and without argument pull him inside of your apartment.

Soft kisses and laughter are shared quietly between the two of you. Time ticks by but you have lost all sense of care in the world. All that matters to you is this moment. Your fairytale come to life. And it was just perfect.

[silkythewriter]

Angel on fire

Warnings!: Angst(?), love triangle!, sorry for any grammar or spelling errors! (part 2)

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel!

Author note!: WOWZA HELLO I DIDNT THINK PEOPLE WOULD LIKE THE 1ST ONE SO MUCH?! TYSM FOR TGE SUPPORT I HOPE YOU ENJOY!

Summary!: “you are as beautiful as the moon my dear.” He said with the sweeting smile you adored. “And your as deadly as the sun I fear, my love” you answered oh so bitter-fully.

★三★三★ミ★ミ★三★三★三★ミ★三★ミ★ミ

“Cause those are my words, not yours

As far as I'm concerned, it could've been a lot worse

I wasn't trying to avoid the confrontation

She isn't crying, she's just making conversation”

★三★三★ミ★ミ★三★三★三★ミ★三★ミ★ミ

“Look.. Adam-“ you said desperately before being cut off “no fucking way!” He chuckled “your actually side-ing with those shit bags?!” He said looking at you. You only glared at him, before huffing softly “watch your language…” You said with a with a small frown. Making his eyebrows crunch together as he closed his eyes with a huff. “For fuck sake do you know what those.. scums even did to end up there!” He said angrily. You steady your breath, with him you had too, you knew how he was but you just had too keep poking at him. Or get something other then a no, If you did you were sure to lose your mind.

“Adam, Just listen!, I think this could benefit heaven as well! More extra time means more time to do what you want. Wouldn’t you like that?” You tried reasoning as you cupped his hands in yours only for him to push it away. “Don’t test me Y/n, this is my job.” He spat out, making you wince. “Why are you pushing on this so hard anyways!, you have all you could want here. You barely have to lift a finger why are you so concerned for them?” He said crossing his arms. “They were humans once Adam, just like you, just like me. We’re no different, they just messed up once and we’re sent to an eternal furnace with no escape!” You said holding your hands to your chest. “Please! I’m nothing like them, I was the first fucking human soul in heaven, no one compares to me.” He laughed out. “So what does that mean about me?” You said with furrowed brows. He sighed heavily before speaking “Angel, listen to your self, your the only other person I really give a shit about. Well other then lute I guess” he shrugged as he rested his arm on the arm rest and laid his head in his palm boredly. “Look don’t worry your little gorgeous self about a thing. This ain’t your field!” He laughed.

You had patience, and you had tolerance. But his disrespect set you off. But you knew in your head that fighting someone like himself wouldn’t end well. You already had more leeway then most due to your, well close relationship with Adam. But you had to keep trying, after all angels don’t break promises.

With a heavy sigh you bowed before excusing your self. Which he quickly called out to you in confusion. But you only kept walking to your room, you were a patient one, but dealing with him proves to be a handful. You needed to think of a way to at least push it back one more month.

Just one more month

★三★三★ミ★ミ★三★三★三★ミ★三★ミ★ミ

“What’s good cherry pimp” Angel dust asked as he threw himself on the couch sluggishly. “All day you’ve been hummin’ and tappin’ what’s on your mind?” He asked as he quirked an eyebrow up as he put his gaze on Alastor. Alastor smile only grew, his mind filled with your intoxicating self. To him you very much everything, from the first day he was damned, till now all his mind was filled was you. But now more then ever, seeing you after all these decades was a shot of electricity to his very dead heart. You hadn’t change a bit since the last time he laid eyes on you. You were still angelic as ever.

Again he was swept up in his mind but quickly flicked back to reality, swaying softly as he hummed. “Oh nothing, my dear friend, old acquaintances I have recently seen after some time!” He said in his usual radio voice. “Yea I’m surprised anyone would be friends with you. Not to be rude or nothin’ but your fuckin’ creepy pal” angel said as he laughed  as he waved his hands. Alastor only smirked in amusement as he took his leave. 

He should have known someone of the likes of you would end up where most wouldn’t. He wasn’t an ounce surprised. But he wanted you back, and he was going to take what he wanted. He didn’t frankly care if you’d belong to the sky,

You were his angel first. And he’d rid those little wings of yours if it meant you were to never fly Away from him.

Not this time, not again

★三★三★ミ★ミ★三★三★三★ミ★三★ミ★ミ

You tiredly tapped your finger over the dinner table. Mind still racing with ideas, it was a cycle, coming up with something, but ultimately crossing it off the thinking board. Adam paid no mind for awhile as he chatted Away with Lute. Which was eyeing you suspiciously. And once Adam went back to his meal she quickly cleared her throat as she straighten her stance next to Adam “Miss Y/n, you haven’t touched your food.” She stated bluntly. Which made you snap out of thought as you turned you attention to her “I’m afraid I don’t have an appetite today” you said softly pushing the plate stacked with food away form you.

“Are you really still hung up on that stupid shit little miss princess of hell proposed?” He scoffed. Causing you to huff, “I’ll be taking my leave.” You said plainly but as nicely as you could as you backed you seat from the table and stood up causing him to grunt. “Look angel, if I think about pushing the damn extermination back would you drop this?” He said making you quickly turn to him with a smile and nod. “There’s that smile, now sit down and eat I’m tired of thinking of all of this” he said as you agreed taking a seat.

Lute was appalled at how… how quick it was was all agreed. How could he just push it back so easily? Even if it was just him “thinking” about it. And for no reason other then you?, all though Adam was to In-grossed in his own things to question such things. She did not and quickly grew suspicious, you out of all people should be less worried. You have everything in a silver platter yet you still seem to have such a worry in matters that weren’t concerning you in the first place.

You could feel her eyes staring you down. But her suspicions were very much valid even if unfortunate to your case. You’d have to be more careful, if she caught on, she’d be quick to make Adam question aswell.

You cursed yourself slightly but still happy non the less. Even if you got Adam to consider the possibility of pushing the date back was still a progress!.

You were sure to tell Charlie soon, although you’d have to wait till lutes suspicions and stares would die down so you could slip away.

Your patience were never ending, but oh how much you longed for the man you’ve last seen years ago.

★三★三★ミ★ミ★三★三★三★ミ★三★ミ★ミ

TYSM FOR READING AH I LOVED WRITING THIS AGAIN TYSM FOR THE LOVE ON NY LAST POST, ILL BE SURE TO WORK ON SOEM REQUEST BUT PLEASE BE ASSURED PART 3 WILL BE POSTED AFTER I DO SOME REQUEST. ٩(ᐛ)و

[viinchester]

Haunted Reflections

Warnings: References to Violence and Murder, mentions of Stalking, Trauma (related to losing a limb & violent incidents), Obsessive Thoughts, Unhealthy Behavior, graphic descriptions in thoughts of Gore (Violence, Bloodshed, a bit of Body Mutilation), Moral Ambiguity (we're talking about Brian Moser here, hello?), Insults (like a single word lol), mentions of Drugs (two sentences, nothing about taking them), mentions of Death

Fandom: Dexter (TV Show/Series)

Pairing: Brian Moser/Rudy Cooper x F!Reader

Request by: @ireallydontknowohcrabs

Summary: You head to your routine appointment for a readjustment of your prosthetic leg at the Miami prosthetics clinic. This time, however, you are met with Rudy Cooper instead of your usual doctor. Unbeknownst to you, his dark secrets lie hidden beneath the surface, and you’ve unwittingly captured his undivided attention and care.

Word Count: 2.321

My Masterlist

A/N: Initially wasn't sure about which direction to go with this request, but I decided on one eventually.😅 It was fun to write, so I hope you guys will it!💞 Reposts/Comments with feedback are, as always, very much appreciated!!🙏🏼 And just as a reminder: My requests are currently open.🥰💙

You expected this visit to be the same as any other to the prosthetics clinic usually was.

You were going to meet Dr. Gardner, the prosthetist who had been with you since you’d first been fitted for your prosthetic leg, and he'd make a slight adjustment to it, and then you'd leave again.

But instead of that being the case, when you walked into the clinic today, you were greeted by someone else. A man, much younger than Dr. Gardner, with a tall frame and dark curly hair stood by the window and was currently slipping on his gloves. The doctor, obvious by the signature-white lab coat he was wearing, calmly turned to you with a professional and slightly reassuring smile.

“Unfortunately Dr. Gardner’s out sick at the moment,” he immediately explained, his voice smooth and composed. “I'm filling in for him, so I’ll be the one handling your adjustment today. My name's Dr. Rudy Cooper, it's nice to meet you.” He shook your hand gently before gesturing to the chair in the middle of the room. “Please, have a seat.”

You nodded, sitting down and rolling the cuff of your pant-leg up, glancing at him curiously. “Well then let’s see if you’re as good as Dr. Gardner at putting me back together.”

Brian gave a small smile as he seated himself across from you, gently lifting your leg to begin his examination on your prosthetic. “I’ll try my best. Dr. Gardner’s very good at it, from what I hear.” His voice was light, but he was already scanning you, taking in the way you moved, the way you spoke.

When his eyes reached your hands, he had to do a double take, his world stopping. Your nails, painted in the exact same way his mother used to paint hers. The hues were extremely similar, and the order of the colors was identical.

It came out of nowhere and hit him like a physical blow. For just a second his breath hitched and his usually steady hands trembled at the sight.

No. It couldn’t be. But it was.

His mother’s nails, now on your hands, like some ghostly echo of the past.

The carefully constructed facade of calm professionalism flickered for a moment as a flood of memories surged through him.

His mother’s laughter, the smell of her perfume, the soft touch of her hand as she ruffled his hair. And then… the blood. Her blood, mixing with the colors of those very same nails.

How could this be happening? He hadn’t thought about his mother in this way for so long, hadn’t let himself remember.

Blinking a few times, he quickly put your leg down and reached for your file instead, fighting to regain control over his composure.

He couldn’t lose it here. Not now. It was just a coincidence anyway. Just some random woman with the same taste in nail polish.

Still, deep down the shock lingered, sending tremors through the carefully walled-off parts of his mind.

He flipped through your file as casually as possible, clearing his throat once to keep his tone friendly, but professional. “Just going over some notes here. It says the injury happened... a few years ago? Could you remind me of what happened, just to make sure everything lines up?”

Forcing a polite smile, the mask of Rudy Cooper slipped into place, though it felt more strained than usual. His eyes couldn’t help but glance back to your nails every time you so much as shifted, the image of his mother — and her terrified eyes, her pleading hands, those painted nails — almost overlapping with you. He could barely hear your voice over the roaring in his head.

Not noticing anything off, you nodded, hesitating for a second. You hesitated, not because the incident was difficult to talk about anymore, but because it had become such a strange story to tell. You’d almost made peace with it, enough to laugh about it sometimes.

“Yeah, it was... a pretty bad day. Tried to steal some drugs. Not for me, though.” You smiled shyly, a hint of awkwardness in your tone. “My idiot ex, thought I could help him out of a mess he got himself into. But then I got cornered by three guys with a chainsaw. Like something out of a horror movie, right?” You laughed a little, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Brian’s hands paused again, but he kept his face neutral, even with the chaos inside him growing. Drugs? That was already close enough to the horrors of his past. But then you mentioned three guys with a chainsaw, and the floor seemed to fall away beneath him. Though his expression didn’t change and he resumed his adjustment on your prosthetic, the memory inside his mind hit him like a sledgehammer, and in vivid detail as well. His mother, the men, the chainsaw whirring. He was too young to stop it, too small to save her, but the memory had never left him. The blood, the screams, the way her nails had clutched at him in desperation before the world went red.

And now here you were, sitting in front of him, your soft voice recounting a version of his nightmare.

Brian exhaled slowly, maintaining a steady voice. “That’s... an intense way to lose a leg. It must have been terrifying.” His words sounded professional, if empathetic, but internally he struggled to comprehend how this was possible. How could you have survived something so reminiscent of what happened to her?

His disbelief mixed with something darker, something predatory. He had been powerless as a child, but not now. Not anymore.

The thought of you cornered by men with a chainsaw, just like his mother, made something in him snap into place. His shock was replaced by cold determination.

It was as if the universe had handed him a second chance, a way to rewrite the past. This time was different. This time, he wouldn’t be helpless. This time, he would stop the violence, before it consumed you, too.

You gave a small shrug and kept talking, oblivious to the storm brewing inside of him. “Yeah, it was... I honestly didn't believe I’d make it out alive. But it’s been a few years now and here I am, still standing. Just… in a slightly different way.” You offered a small, self-deprecating smile. “Guess I’ve learned to adapt. Well, kind of. I’m still getting used to the leg in a way, but hey, I haven’t fallen flat on my face in a while, so I guess that’s progress.” You smiled again, this time more genuine though, trying to lighten the mood. “And at least my ex didn’t get the drugs. Silver linings, right?”

Brian’s gaze darkened slightly at that, though he kept his tone light. “I see. That’s very impressive and brave of you, as I can only imagine how tough all that must have been. I’m hoping your ex is not someone you still have to deal with on top of that?”

You hesitated, biting your lip and avoiding his eyes, a little uneasy at the topic of your ex boyfriend. “Well, actually… he’s, uh, kind of been stalking me, on and off. Nothing too serious, but... it’s still annoying, you know?”

Brian's fingers flexed around your prosthetic, the material fitting securely into place. His eyes, though still composed on the surface, deepened in intensity and became more focused. Your ex was stalking you. Lurking, like a predator. His jaw clenched, and his disbelief at the situation melted away, replaced by a new resolve.

I couldn’t save her. But I can save you.

The idea of this man, your ex, still in your life filled him with an odd sense of purpose. He didn’t care about people, not really, but this was different. You had painted nails. You had suffered violence. You reminded him of her.

He would make sure nobody hurt you ever again. Starting with that ex-boyfriend of yours. Yes, he would definitely be dealt with. Permanently.

And going further, from now on, you would become his patient. Dr. Gardner had served his purpose, but Brian knew, with a chilling certainty, that you wouldn’t be seeing him again. Not if he could help it.

He forced a sympathetic chuckle, masking his true emotions as he continued to work on your prosthetic with his usual precision. “That sounds... frustrating. You’d think he’d get the hint by now.”

“Right?” You rolled your eyes playfully, trying to dispel the tension that came with the subject of your ex. “But I’m fine, really. It’s just one of those things I have to deal with.”

Brian simply nodded, his hands moving delicately, ensuring the fit was perfect, but his thoughts were miles away, plotting, considering what exactly he needed to do next to make sure you'd no longer have to do deal with it.

He was nothing if not methodical, his mind working like a finely-tuned machine, always planning, always calculating. When it came to taking care of your ex-boyfriend and Dr. Gardner, he would need to use two different approaches, that much was obvious.

Your ex-boyfriend would be the one to pay in blood. The man had been the catalyst for your suffering, the reason you had been put in a situation that mirrored Brian's own mother's gruesome death.

So your ex wasn't going to just disappear, that would be too easy, too nice. Instead, the bastard was going to feel every ounce of pain, every bit of terror that Brian imagined his mother and you had felt. He’d stalk him for days and learn his habits, figure out where he was most vulnerable. And when he’d finally make his move, it would be somewhere isolated, somewhere he could really take his time.

The act itself would neither be quick nor clean. Instead, Brian would make it messy, and visceral. He'd use tools that mimicked the chainsaw that had haunted both him and you. While he wouldn’t use an actual chainsaw, far too noisy and difficult to control, he would choose something just as violent, perhaps a hacksaw or an axe. He would let your ex feel the terror, hear the whir of a blade, and realize that his time was up.

In his twisted mind, Brian believed that you deserved closure. You needed to know that your ex-boyfriend was truly dead. Maybe you wouldn’t know it had been Brian, but you’d know your ex had been taken care of — brutally, and publicly even. The police would find the body, bloodied, hacked apart, left in some abandoned place where no one could escape the horror of the scene. It wouldn’t be a neat kill; it would be a spectacle. The kind that left a permanent mark in the mind of anyone who saw it.

It would be justice for you, and revenge for his mother.

It would be perfect.

You were going to feel safe, knowing that the danger had been wiped out, grateful that the threat was gone.

Dr. Gardner, on the other hand, required a different touch. Brian held no ill feelings toward him, the man simply needed to die out of necessity. But the doctor was a respected figure in your life, and if he simply vanished or died a violent death, you might grieve too hard, or worse, become suspicious. So Dr. Gardner's exit had to be quiet, peaceful, and leave no room for doubt. Brian could easily make it look natural, the man was already old enough that it wouldn’t raise too many questions if he were to die in his sleep anyway.

He'd slip a small dose of potassium chloride into Dr. Gardner’s food or drink, undetectable and mimicking the signs of a natural heart attack. The man would feel a sudden, overwhelming pressure in his chest, his heart seizing painfully — but he wouldn’t be able to cry for help. And in mere minutes, it would be over, and the man would be found peacefully in his bed or his office chair, just another old guy who’d met his end from "natural causes". No one would question it, and you might feel sad for a little while, but definitely not suspicious.

And Brian knew grief over a natural death tended to fade more quickly.

Then you’d return to the clinic in need of further adjustments to your prosthetic in the future, and who would be there for you? Him. The friendly, capable replacement who’d been there all along.

As Brian thought about it all, his hands checked the fit of your prosthetic, his fingers running along the edges.

“Now, hopefully this adjustment will work perfectly for you,” he then said, his voice calm as ever. “If you need anything else, any follow-up, you can come back to me and I’ll take care of it.”

You nodded — still oblivious to anything going on underneath his professional exterior — as you softly smiled up at him and stood up, testing your leg and finding it already fitting better. “Thanks, Dr. Cooper, it’s great, and that’s really nice of you. I’ll be sure to come back if I need any more work done.”

Brian smiled back, but it was colder this time, more possessive. “Rudy, please. And I’ll be here, whenever you need me.”

As you left the clinic, you felt relieved, glad that everything had gone well despite the fact that Dr. Gardner wasn't the one doing your adjustment. Dr. Cooper, or Rudy, had been kind, careful, and understanding. He was a really nice man. Hopefully you'd have him as your prosthetist again if Dr. Gardner ever fell sick another time.

Watching you walk away, Brian was certain of your return. He intended to mold your future so that you would always come back to him.

You may not know it yet, but he was going to ensure you’d never need anyone else, ever again.

[writing-havoc]

HII! HOW ARE YOU? Okay so i have a kaz brekker x reader request but it's kinda meh but i just can't stop thinking about it. And it's kinda similar to your fic 'high' (my favorite piece of media EVER)

So fem!reader (or gn whichever is easier for you<3) drunk and makes fun of the way kaz talks and his hair and the way how he's really bossy. (I would so call him emo king) and he's just trying to get her to take a bath (be a fish) and rest.

Please please don't feel pressured you can just ignore this. Don't forget to drink water. Have a nice day or night love youu<3

Loverboy

♡ Summary: Kaz comes and fetches you after you have a bit too much to drink. Getting you to bathe and rest for the night is a little more difficult than he remembers.

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Alcohol, Nudity (not smut)

♡ WC: 3.5k

Hello hello!!! Thank you for your request <3 I'm doing pretty alright thank you for asking. I hope you're doing okay!

I loved being prompted to expand on this and experiment with how it would go. To be honest that's also one of my fav pieces of work that I've done, and I'm glad someone else holds the same joy for it that I do!

Anyway, here it is!! Hope you enjoy it anon, ly <3

Please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

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"Oh for Ghezen's sake just put one foot in front of the other." Kaz nipped, pushing just a bit harder on your back.

Your head was lolling back and to the side, unwillingly looking at the stars. Yet your eyes remain half closed, barely a fraction of your pupil visible in the moonlight. A smile is painted on your face the whole time, lips chapped and cracked from dehydration. "'M tryin' Kaz. But my head is just, so heavy and the stars 're so pretty."

"I know I know- hold on to the cane- the cane!"

He shouldn't have let you have those last few drinks, but unfortunately you batted your little lashes and made the same little promises you do after enough time has passed for his memories to become just a little bit muddled and forget how far from the truth your promises are.

You'll say you'll be fine. You'll say you'll get home safe. You'll say you'll see him soon.

But you can't really fulfill any of those. So he at least has the foresight to stay with you, or to have someone else stay with you and come get him when you down more than your promised two or three.

And he makes a big deal out of it, saying all these things and talking like he's annoyed with you, but really?

He's not.

Not as much as he thinks he should be anyway. If he had heard anybody else complaining as much as he does in his own head he'd stuff his own glove in their mouth and tell them to deal with their inadequate relationship elsewhere.

But it's him, and it's you, and it's different.

You're not like them. You're not violent or a verbal tyrant or negligent.

"Did I ever tell you..." You start, then chuckle to yourself when you straighten up and sway around. "Did I ever tell you that kin'a remind me of a cat with your hair slicked back like that?"

You're,,, silly. And he feels silly saying that but you are. It's the perfect word to describe you when you get like this. Light jabs at the things you like about him, your feet walking to a rhythm in your head that makes you stop and go and speed and slow at random, laughing at the most mundane things.

"I don't believe you have, no." You definitely have. But he allows you to repeat it.

The Slat is wonderfully empty as he opens the door. Only a few people occupy the tables off to the side, but they're just as drunk as you are, and he doubts they can see this far from their drooling.

"Come on." He leads you over to the stairs. "Up we go."

You lean on the rail, shaking your head, smile gone. "Mh-mhn. I can't." You continue to shake your head, eyes closed. "Your leg is bad."

Silly.

"Good observation. Your legs, however, are fine, if a bit wobbly. Up you come." He tries again to coax you up, to no avail. You lean on the rail more, even pushing into it.

He forgot how much you resemble an ox when it comes to getting you to do something. It's like you contain this ability to just plant yourself anywhere and stick no matter the force that's pulling or pushing you.

"Your leg is bad. I can't go up."

"My bad leg does not effect your ability to walk up the stairs." He says as gentle as possible.

"But it does."

He sighs. "Could you explain to me why that is?"

Your bottom lip pushes out just barely, eyes opening and looking at him through your lashes. It's a look that would have any man in Kerch on their knees, he's sure of it. "Need your help."

His heart sunk. "Just grab the railing and my cane, dove. I'll take my good leg up first."

You analyzed the stairs, scrutinizing them. "Promise?"

"You know I don't make-"

"Promise?" A hint of anger bubbled in your tone, the same firmness in your eyes when you snapped your head to look at him.

He takes a deep breath. "I promise."

And just like that you were ready to ascend the stairs. You grabbed the railing, clumsily reaching out for his cane which he gave readily.

Even in your drunken state, you knew exactly which stairs creaked and which ones were just this side of broken. You skipped a stair, glaring at it as Kaz ascended with his good leg first, then continued with your usual lax expression.

He tried to step with his bad leg, but you immediately backtracked and held his cane firmly, holding him back as well. "You promised." You bit out.

"I did." He switched back, good leg going up, slowly edging you along. "It just slipped my mind."

"Nothin' slips your mind." You pouted, begrudgingly ascending when the cane went too far to hold close.

"Important things," he corrected. "Important things don't slip my mind."

You yanked on the cane, making him look at you. "You're important."

And he... doesn't know what to do with that.

Of course in whatever realm you were occupying he'd be important. He's important for a lot of things. His businesses, his club, whatever constitutes as leader of the crows.

It's not that he thinks he's not important. He just forgets to take into account that with you, he's important in the little things too.

Pointing him where to massage on his leg when it's giving him trouble, bringing him fresh tea when he tries to drink the day old stuff pushed to the corner of his desk, at least reminding him to sleep when the clock reaches two bells in the dark hours.

And right now, when you force him to take the pressure off his poorly healed shin.

"You're right." He confirms, helping you to the top of the stairs. "I am. Now come on."

When he began to lead you to his room, you groaned and stood in place. "Noo. I don' wanna fish."

His mouth struggled to stay in a line, corners quirking up. "You have to fish. You're sweaty and you smell like alcohol."

"I's a good smell."

"You gag in the morning when you smell it."

"Hogwash, you walking shadow."

He tugged you along, walking ahead of you and up the stairs to the attic. His help wasn't much needed here with how narrow and more secure the steps were, but you needed the extra hand to coax you up and towards your inevitable bath.

His office was dark, the only thing preventing the room from being cast in complete darkness was the street lights outside pushes a faint yellow glow through the window.

A lantern was stored in a bookcase next to the door for this reason. He clipped his cane onto his belt and hooked a finger under the handle, giving you little assurances that he wasn't going to let you fall while he navigated the room he knew by heart.

He parked you by his makeshift desk, guiding your hands to the desktop for some leverage while he rustled through a cabinet for the matches.

Immediately you were enthralled with the fire. Nina thinks you were an Inferni in your past life, and he finds the idea hard to not believe as he watches your once droopy eyes widen and follow the ball of fire in his hand as it lights the lantern.

He closes the shade, putting out the match and watching you smile as the whole room lights up.

"So bright." You whisper, as if it's your first time seeing fire.

He shrugs off his coat, throwing it over the back of his chair. "Very. Don't touch it."

You pout, taking your hand away. "I don't know what you're referring to."

He takes the lantern from where it rests on the desk, unhooking his cane and walking to the bathroom. "Come take your bath."

"'Come take your bath'." You mock him. "You're a bossy bossy man, you know that?"

He can't see you as he hangs the lantern on a hook, but he knows your hands are on your hips and your head cocked to the side. You always became so sassy when the initial fuzziness seems to wear off.

"It's what im paid for." He calls, swirling the basin of water he had filled up before he left. It was only expected that you should get a bath tonight, and he didn't want to wake anybody now of all times to come and fill it up.

"Youre not getting paid right now."

He didn't have any soap. He used up all of his last time and you usually keep yours tucked in your room, eager to hide its existence from greedy hands.

Just water will have to do, since he doesn't trust you to not fall asleep in the time it will take to go to your room and retrieve yours from your spare set of shoes.

He exits the bathroom, coming face to face with you. "I should be with how I'm ordering you around right now."

He waves you over, and it seems at this point you're becoming too tired to really fight back. You shrug off your outer layers, leaving them in a pile on the floor that you attempt to kick to the side. It's seems you think that you did away with them well enough, but really you just kind of spread them around.

That will have to come later, he thinks, and then puts a hand on your bare shoulder as you take off your shirt, throwing it over the side of the basin. Your pants come off and are thrown at its base, shoes somehow already off in the time span it took to check the tub and come retrieve you, socks following.

"You can keep your undergarments on if you'd like." He says, resting his cane against the wall.

"Oh don't get shy on me now, Kaz. You've seen me naked at least a dozen times." You look back at him, a shit eating smirk on your face.

He's thankful for the warm lantern light to obscure the warmth creeping up his neck and nipping at his ears. "Only because we end up in situations like these. It's more efficient to just get you clean now than have you complain in the morning and almost throw up in the tub."

You moan, the sound throaty and like gravel. "I don't wanna be a fish."

"You dont have to be one for long. Just a few minutes until you're clean."

"Can' be clean if there's no soap."

"We can at least get most of the grime off. Come on, one leg over the other."

Slowly, you climb into the tub, Kaz helping you get in with minimal sloshing.

And now comes the hard part.

His gloves are made of leather. He can't dunk and soak them in the water and expect them to be fine later.

They come off quicker than last time, but just as shakey. He puts on two pairs of cloth ones he's kept in here since the third time this happened, when it became apparent that this would happen again and several more times after.

Once they're on he flexes his hand, feeling the cold unforgiving waves slosh at his knees and lick up his thighs.

It's not the same. It's a bath. It's you.

"Can you get your body?" He asks, though. Because as much as he'd like to be of some help here he can't help but need to touch you the least amount as possible.

You think it over, stretching out as much as the tub allows before nodding. "M'yeah, I can do it."

He hands you a rag, watching it sink under the water and become several shades darker.

He turns around and allows you to do your thing, but knows your routine from when you, Nina, and Jesper had a heated debate about which order to wash your body in.

You'll wash your neck and chest first, digging into your collars bones and over your shoulders, then do you arms, followed by your torso and around your back. Then you'll scrub at your legs, moving to your face, then your waist, then your feet.

It'll take about ten minutes to go over every part, scrubbing in places you think have the most grime, and all the while having your shampoo already scrubbed into your hair so that you can rinse everything out all at once.

But you're tired and drunk, and he doesn't know how far you'll make it down your list until you eventually get frustrated or too exhausted or both.

He listens to the water in the tub move as your scrub yourself beneath its surface. A throaty hum emanates from your throat, a tune oddly familiar to the song that plays in the club filling the room.

Every once in a while you'll sigh, the water halting. He'll lean back and ask if you're alright, and you'll hum and get right back to scrubbing.

It's fifteen minutes before you say anything.

"You alright t' do my hair?"

His stomach churns, acid bubbling at its entrance.

"Ill be fine."

He turns, gesturing with his finger for you to lean your head into the water.

There's a pause before he reaches into the cold depths, wondering if he actually /will/ be fine.

When you look at him, eyes rimmed in red and glassy, he scrounges up whatever stability and modicum of the word "cope" he has and dunks them in.

Immediately he finds your hair, burying his fingers between the strands and finding your scalp.

It's hard to feel anything besides temperature with these gloves, and your head is practically burning against the cool water.

You're definitely cold. He can tell by your flushed cheeks and the way you curl your arms around your waist, goosebumps littering your arms. Yet you remain warm under his touch.

He watches the little hairs on your arm wave in the bath current as he scrubs, almost hypnotizing in their back and forth movement as you move to let them rest against your thighs.

But it's not enough.

He's scrubbing your hair, trying so hard to just focus on the grime under his fingers as his hands make the cold water slosh. The feeling is oddly familiar to the waves coating his hands as they dunk half under as he clings to blue flesh.

But you look at him, and your giggle is like little bells that keep him above water, just for the moment.

"You know what you look like?" You ask. "You look like- oh, what's that new style they got goin' on?"

He has no idea what you're talking about. Fashion trends are far beneath his radar unless necessary for a job.

You snap your fingers, pointing up at him. "Emo!"

That makes his eyebrows raise. Because he is familiar with Emo, because a bunch of kids called him that when they were out much past their bedtime. They found it necessary to shout it at him while he was passing by, laughing as they ran into an alleyway.

"I don't think that's accurate." He manages to get out, dunking your head a little further to cover your ears and get the wisps of hair in front of them.

"It's sooo accurate." You draw out your o's, blinking slowly and out of sync. "Emo king."

He sighs. "Whatever you say, little fish."

You pout, moving away from him and turning belly down, chin dipping into the water. "I thought I was your dove."

Again, thankful for that warm light. It makes his stomach feel all twisty the way you say "your". For just a moment, he let's himself smile, really smile, and puts his chin on his hands. "You are. But right now, you're a fish."

You huff, turning back and putting your head within reach. "Okay, mister emo cat."

He sighs, beginning to scrub at the parts of your scalp that he already got but feels he needs to do another once over for. "I am neither emo nor a cat."

"Tell that to your hair, loverboy."

Loverboy.

He scoffs, taking his hands from your hair. "Your hair's done. Get out so you can dry off."

You laugh at your accomplishment, sitting up and scrunching your hair as he discards his wet gloves on a towel rack and dries himself off.

Honestly, loverboy? He's not some lovesick puppy. Loverboy applies to those who are unfathomably whipped, wrapped around their partners finger and touching at all times. It has no place being in the same sentence that his likeness occupies except to say that he is not a 'loverboy'.

He hands you a towel as you get out of the tub, heading to his closet to fetch you some of his clothes.

"An old one, please?" You yell out to him.

"I know." He calls back.

If he can help it he replaces his button ups every few months. But you like the ones that are just around that area of wear and tear. In your words, they "ain't tight and smell like him. Win win."

He doesn't bother with pants, but grabs a pair of his underwear for you to change into instead that he knows you'll find more comfortable.

As he limps back to the bathroom, he halts as he analyzes his thoughts and actions.

Fuck. Maybe he /does/ deserve the name Loverboy.

The realization almost makes him groan and sit down on the floor right then and there.

Can't he just carve his heart out? Isn't that what the poets and song writers do?

Alas, he is neither a poet nor a musician. So he will instead take the long way out, and bring you his clothes and get you into into his bed before the third bell chimes.

He hands you the clothes, watching your face light up for a moment before he exits to his office to clean up the mess you made.

The beak of his cane hooks under your coat, dragging it up and into his hand which he then throws onto the chair. You hate getting it off the coat rack, half the time pulling it with you when you take your coat back. So he sets it here for now, and takes your shoulder bag and shoes and organizes them around the chair just as you usually do.

"I think I found my new look."

He turns around, seeing you trying to pose against the wall. It's supposed to be sultry and sexy, but it definitely does not read that way with your soaked hair, stiff back, and uncooperative limbs.

"If you think so." He nearly chuckles, taking his gloves from your hands and slipping them onto his own, and then retrieves the lantern from the bathroom. "Come to bed."

Thankfully, you seem to love the idea of the bed. It doesn't take much to lead you to the little nook he calls his bedroom. He hooks the lantern to the wall as your body slumps onto his partially eaten sheets.

"Mmm." You hum, smile hidden under your squashed cheek. "Warm."

"Doubtful." He jabs, unfolding a blanket at the foot of the bed and draping it over you.

"It really is. Should try it sometime." You poke at the space beneath your eye, tongue sticking out.

He assumes you're referencing the eye bags that have taken permanent residence on his face, to which he rolls his eyes and hikes up the blanket to cover your back. You hate the cold creeping in.

If you wake up cold in the morning, you will be cold for the rest of the day. And unfortunately for you, you have a job in about six hours.

The less you have to complain about, the better.

"Ill try it later." He promises. "For now, you need it more."

You mumble something, but with the way your eyes are drooping he figures you're not even aware you said anything at all.

As you doze off, he half sits on his nightstand, and watches your breathing begin to slow and even out. It's loud at first, but eventually you grow quieter and quieter, muscles relaxing as you sink into his hard mattress.

Your hair is thrown about everywhere, still wet from your bath, and you'll need Nina to remove a kink in your shoulder in the morning. But for now, you're calm, and safe, and that's enough.

He takes a deep breath, just the same as you do, and then sighs.

"Goodnight, little fish." He mumbles, and then stands, off to collect the ingredients for a hangover tonic and catch up on paperwork.

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Tags:

@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker

[delayedstrawberry]

Dracule Mihawks Unknown Visitor

Summary: Dracule Mihawk is a man of many secrets, so naturally, he greeted Zoro and Perona with silence when they asked about his unusual mood during their unannounced visit to his Castle on Kuraigana Island. However, it all starts to make sense once a stranger appears unexpectedly at the door. Fandom: One Piece Relationships: Mihawk x Reader, Mihawk x Female OC Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Female Reader Zoro and Perona Notes: Hello♡ This is just a silly and slightly romantic little idea I came up with, so I had to get it out of my system. I posted this Fanfic on my AO3 as well (DelayedStrawberry) I hope you enjoy reading!

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩Dracule Mihawks Unknown Visitor ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Mihawk sits on his usual throne chair in the tea room, holding the newspaper in his hands as he lazily reads through it. There’s a fresh cup of tea by his side, and a book to keep him occupied later on. He’s wearing his frilly white shirt today, alongside his long black pants, his black boots and a cross necklace. The air around the castle seems calm and undisturbed, except for the loud voices of Zoro and Perona talking in the living room down the hall. Thankfully Mihawk has the door shut, and told them to shut the living room door too. They’re visiting for around two weeks against Mihawk's will, so he’s got one week left of them making a mess of the place. The pair decided to come unannounced again. This is what, the third time this year? What a bother.

Mihawk sighs, the fluttering of the newspaper being heard throughout the room as he shifts in his seat. They’re still too loud. But no matter…they made him some rice and vegetable soup in the morning so he can’t get too angry. Granted, they did an awful job on it, but he can’t deny they still tried their best.

“Aw come on Zoro, hold still.” Perona whines in a frustrated tone as Zoro sits between her legs.

“I’m trying! But you keep tugging on my hair…I’m not some statue!” Zoro spits back, changing his seating position for the hundredth time.

Perona has somehow convinced Zoro to let her braid his hair. He’s grown it out pretty long over the summer and she’s been bugging him about it for weeks, so she’s got him trapped between her legs as she sits on the couch.

“Pfft not trying hard enough. I thought you were some strong swordsman, you can handle my hands in your hair, right?” Perona tugs another piece of his hair, giggling as she does so.

“That’s it! I’ve had enough!” Zoro suddenly stands up and knocks Perona over backwards on the couch, a breathless gasp escaping her. He promptly runs his fingers through his hair to get rid of the braids, but manages to tangle his hair instead.

“That was like an hour's work!” Perona whines, crossing her arms over her chest as she sinks into the couch with a pout.

“Dammit, what did you do to it…it’s getting tangled.” Zoro murmurs as he continues to try and get the braids out.

“Why do you ALWAYS have to be like this?? I was nearly done.” She whines, the pout on her face growing deeper.

“I don’t care. And I don’t want your grubby hands in my hair anyway!” Zoro retorts, his voice rising.

Perona gasps. “Grubby??? How DARE you insinuate-”

Zoro cuts her off. “I’m not insinuating, I’m stating a damn fact. You’re just an annoying grubby girl who can’t seem to begin to imagine what diseases live under HER fingernails!”. His hands are furiously running through his hair to get rid of the braids, but miserably failing.

“Oh yeah? Well, your mouth is a disease!” Perona’s voice gets slightly louder, and she sits up straighter on the couch as she looks up at him.

“Oh how original of you.” He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and looking off to the side.

“How about we ask Mihawk what he thinks?? I’m sure he’ll agree with me!” Perona says with conviction, a small smile on her face.

“He would agree with a bag of rocks before he would agree with you!” Zoro laughs loudly, stepping back closer to the couch to loom over Perona with a half grin.

“N-NO!” Perona stutters out, her smile dropping, knowing Zoro's right.

“Then we agree. You’re grubby.” Zoro says as he leans down and gets close to Peronas face.

“We do NOT agree! Ugh this isn’t fair!” She looks back into Zoro's eyes with a stubborn expression.

Zoro's voice rises as his frustration comes back with a crash. “Not fair??…Not FAIR?? You messed up my damn hair! It’s gonna take days for it to look good again!”

“It never looked good in the first place so I don’t know why you’re so worried!” Perona shouts, getting up in his face even more.

“Says the pink haired FREAK!” Zoro shouts back.

“Your hair is GREE-” Zoro cuts her off by quickly clamping a hand over her mouth.

“God, quiet down! Mihawks’ already been in a bad enough mood lately, don’t make it worse.” Zoro says in a hushed tone, saying it as if he wasn’t also shouting.

Perona grumbles under his hand, but then they hear something. It sounds like footsteps, but not the demanding ones of Mihawk…but the softer and lighter kind, and they’re coming from outside the castle. The two slowly turn their heads simultaneously towards the sound of them, their eyes growing wider.

Perona prys Zoros’ hand off of her mouth, both of them still trying to listen.

“Who’s that…?” Perona whispers, her ears straining to hear who’s footsteps they are.

“I don’t know.” Zoro whispers back. “It seems to be coming from outside.”

“An intruder??” Perona whispers, a bit of alarm in her voice.

Zoro shrugs as Perona gets off of the couch, quickly floating across the living room to the window. She peers through it and Zoro goes to stand behind her. However, due to the distance and the angle, they can’t see who it is. Perona huffs and floats out of the living room door to go towards the front entrance of the castle. Zoros’ eyebrows shoot up. There’s been a warning from Mihawk about how there’s been a gang of pirates in the nearby seas causing unusual trouble lately, and told them to be careful.

“Wait for me, you’ll get yourself killed!” Zoro shouts after her. He sighs and straightens up, walking after Perona who’s already halfway down the hallway.

Zoro stumbles a bit as he leaves the living room, his hand now occupied with his tangled hair as he tries to follow Perona as fast as he can.

The two walk through the castle halls and various rooms with gothic furniture and colours, although Zoro is more distracted by trying to fix his messy green strands.

“Dammit.” He curses under his breath, stumbling into a chair.

Perona rolls her eyes and grabs Zoros’ hand, yanking it out of his tangled locks. “You’re gonna get lost again if you keep thinking of your stupid hair.” She says in an annoyed tone. Zoro just protests under his breath, and the two of them walk to the main entrance of the castle.

The main entrance of Mihawks’ castle is quite the large area, with an even larger door. The floor is covered in dark green shiny diamond tiles, and the 3 metre door is dark brown with a vintage golden handle. The footsteps seem to be coming towards the entryway, so Zoro pulls his swords out just in case, and Peronas’ heart pounds a little faster.

“What if they’re here to kill Mihawk??” Perona whispers, looking up at Zoro.

“I could take them…” Zoro mutters.

Perona pauses for a second. “Yeah, that’s what you said about Mihawk.”

Zoro glares at her, clearly unamused.

The footsteps come even closer to the door, still sounding soft and light. Zoro and Perona tense up.

“It couldn’t be a guest, right? Mihawk never has guests. The old man barely has friends.” Zoro whispers.

“Mhmm. And we weren’t told of any guests, he would tell us!” Perona whispers in a whiny voice.

The footsteps are heard even closer, it sounds like they’re on the steps which lead up to the front door.

“Perona! Fix my hair, right now.” Zoro whispers, his voice laced with panic.

She quietly giggles and grabs his head so that she can properly take the braids out, the braids he so wonderfully tangled. Zoro keeps his eyes on the front door, the footsteps coming even closer.

“There bossy-I mean mossy. Your hair should be fine now.” Perona grins. Zoro gives her a half glare but decides to leave her comment until later. They both look at the entrance way, the footsteps even closer now and the air full of nerves. Zoro and Perona look at each other in anticipation before silently stepping towards the door.

The footsteps are heard right outside, and without a second thought Zoro flings the door open and raises his swords.

A loud scream is heard and papers fly everywhere as the person falls to the ground in fright. Zoros’ eyes widen…fuck. It’s just a postman.

“Oh g-god don’t kill me! P-please! I-I was sent here b-by the marines t-to give a letter to M-Mihawk! The birds aren’t in s-service at the moment! Mihawk k-knew I was coming I s-swear! I t-told them I wasn’t u-up for the job! This p-place is so-.” The poor postman rambles, frantically trying to pick up all the letters he dropped. Zoro rubs his temple and puts his swords away, he bends down to help the shaking man.

“Uhh sorry about that…we thought you were…” Zoro trails off.

“An intruder trying to kill Mihawk!” Perona exclaims loudly as she floats up behind Zoro, her hands on her hips and her lips pursed.

The young postman nervously smiles, stuffing a handful of letters into his bag. “Nope…h-hah…”

Zoro helps with putting the last papers in the mans’ bag, and gets handed a letter as they both stand up. “T-this is for Mihawk. It’s f-from the marines.” The postman says nervously, sweating and trembling slightly.

Zoro nods and clears his throat, waving the letter around slightly. “Yeah okay, we’ll give this to him. Thanks.”

The postman nods then starts to hurry off back down the stairs. Zoro grimaces slightly and sighs, then Perona speaks up.

“Pshh. Why would you do that, Zoro!? You pulled your swords out on an innocent man! How rude.” She puts her nose in the air and crosses her arms, floating away from him and back into the castle.

“WHA-!” Zoro stammers with a start, his head quickly turning towards her. He groans and shuts the door behind him and starts walking back into the castle too, muttering under his breath about how she’s the one who put the idea in his head that it was an intruder.

“You can’t just be swinging those swords around, you’ll take some innocent persons’ eyes out, you know.” Perona continues to talk as they cross the entrance way.

Zoro sighs heavily. “So much for an exciting day, guess we’ll go and…”

“Braid your hair again?” Perona turns around to look at him, a huge flashy grin on her face.

“No! I was gonna say we’ll go and get something to eat.” Zoro furrows his brow.

“Zoroooooooo!” She whines.

Zoro shakes his head in disbelief, and walks out of the castle's entrance down a hallway. Perona floats after him, a huge pout on her face.

As they enter the large kitchen, Zoro looks at the letter in his hand intended for Mihawk, and decides to put it on the kitchen counter for now.

The two settle down on the stools with food from this mornings’ breakfast, and they silently wonder why Mihawk didn’t eat it all…maybe he wasn’t hungry, he’s been in a pretty bad mood lately. At least, more than usual. They did try to pester him about it, but Mihawk likes to keep things to himself.

Stillness washes over the room as the two eat for about an hour, not bothering to talk to each other. Perona’s still pouty and Zoro wants some peace for once.

Just before they finish eating…they hear more footsteps coming from the outside of the castle. Lighter than what they heard the postman make.

Zoro furrows his brow, slamming his chopsticks onto the table as he looks up. “What the hell?”

Perona tilts her head, her mouth full of food. “Postman again?”

“No…these sound different…I don’t like it.” Zoro stands up and begins to walk back towards the front door, a bit of fire in his eyes. What’s the chances of this happening twice in one day? Perona starts feeling a bit uneasy, and quickly floats behind Zoro to keep close to him.

They get to the entrance way of the castle again, and begin to listen. These footsteps aren’t like the postmans’. These sounded more calculated, or like they had more of a purpose. Perona instinctively clutches Zoros’ arm tightly, wrapping her own arm around his.

“Okay, this one REALLY feels like an intruder.” Perona whispers, her hold tightening on Zoro.

“Yeah these sound a bit…strange.” Zoro whispers back, narrowing his eyes at the door.

The footsteps seem to be hurrying a bit, and they quickly hear them going up the steps to the front door. Zoro and Perona step back slightly, not wanting to redo their last encounter with a stranger, and going for a more hands off approach for this one.

Someone's unknown footsteps walk right up to the entrance. The door slowly opens, shit. They didn’t lock it after they encountered the postman. Zoros’ eyes widen, his breath catching in his throat and his heart pounding. Perona hides behind Zoro, continuing to keep her own arm securely and tightly around his, her heart going a million beats per second.

As the door slowly opens, someone on the other side mutters about how the damn thing shouldn’t be so heavy. They seem to struggle to get it open, the door actually shutting again before opening for the second time. The two look at each other with puzzled expressions, but still on guard.

The door finally opens, and a woman they don’t recognise steps inside. Her eyes land on the two but she doesn’t flinch, she gives off an air of confidence which is slightly intimidating. Zoro seems to relax at the sight of this woman but he keeps his guard up, while Perona tenses up even more as her intuition suggests this woman is bad news.

Zoro clears his throat, keeping his distance from her and speaking in a firm voice. “What’s your name?”

“y/n. Who are you two?” She says with a light smile as she looks over the two, noting their tense bodies and narrowed eyes.

Zoro looks the woman over, noting her put together demeanour. “I’m Zoro, and this is Perona.”

Perona doesn’t like this one bit, she knows that a pretty and innocent smile can hide all sorts of danger. So she speaks to y/n in a cold tone. “You’re here to harm Mihawk, aren’t you?”

y/n looks slightly puzzled but stays calm.”Who said I was here to hurt him?”

Zoro and Perona glance at each other for a moment, not liking her response in the slightest. It seems like she’s dancing around their question.

“Well…y/n, you’re clearly in the castle without Mihawks’ permission. Of course we would think that’s what you’re here to do.” Zoro says sternly, his eyes narrowing even more and his hand going to the hilt of his sword, feeling protective over Mihawk.

“Oh, well…I’m-”But before y/n can respond, Perona cuts her off.

“Don’t say another word! I know a liar when I see one, so whatever you have to say we don’t believe you!” Perona bristles, her tone challenging. Zoro gives Perona a look portraying that he wants her to calm down, but she doesn’t care. Her heart’s set on y/n being an intruder.

“I can assure-” y/n begins, but gets cut off by Perona again.

“We know Mihawk never has guests, and we’ve never heard of you before! And it would be too much of a coincidence if both strangers who’ve shown up are innocent! So get your small butt out of here and go back to where you came from, woman.” She says firmly, untangling her arms from Zoro and crossing them over her chest instead.

Zoro shakes his head in disbelief with how Perona is behaving, but he’s still very much on edge by this mystery woman, there’s definitely a better way to handle this. But despite Zoros’ concern, he knows Perona is just as protective of Mihawk as he is, it just comes across a little differently.

“You know what, I don’t have time for this.” y/n sighs, then begins walking past the two and heading across the entrance way, clearly intending to head deeper into the castle.

Zoro and Perona feel a wave of concern wash over them, so they follow after her. Perona floats pretty quickly behind y/n, while Zoro strides behind them with his hand still on the hilt of his sword.

“Hey, woman! Where do you think you’re going? We weren’t done talking to you!” Perona calls after her, catching up to y/n pretty quickly as they all go down the long hallway.

“You were the one doing most of the talking, and insulting.” y/n says aloofly as she continues to walk. Perona only gets more angry at her response.

“Who do you think you are?? You’re the one who’s here without anyone's permission.” Perona scowls.

“We can’t let you waltz in here unannounced to see Mihawk!” Zoro barks from behind them, his anger flaring up as y/n doesn’t seem to have any intent to stop walking.

y/n sighs to herself, clearly fed up with the two, the air around them tense. “I tried telling you why I’m here, but you kept cutting me off. So why should I even bother.” She says as she opens some doors to walk through one of the spare rooms.

“Because we don’t trust you. Whatever you say, it'll be a lie, so you're not allowed anywhere near him!” Perona says loudly, her voice full of frustration. y/n furrows her brow but doesn’t stop moving.

“I’m getting a headache.” y/n says as she pushes through some more doors, going through yet another big room.

“Yeah right. Try having 2 unannounced people turn up today.” Zoro huffs, his glare on the back of y/n’s head.

Perona nods, her grumpiness growing as she agrees with Zoro. “You say you’re getting a headache, but we’ve stressed out twice already in the past hour!”

As y/n pushes through another set of doors, they get into the long dimly lit hallway that leads to Mihawks’ throne room. Zoro and Perona get even more on edge, what the hell does she want with him?

“You can’t just walk around the house like you own the place!” Perona says angrily with a hint of redness growing on her cheeks, following y/n at her heels. Zoros’ frustration builds as well, noting that y/n isn’t even replying to them anymore and clearly going towards Mihawk.

“y/n! You can’t just go into Mihawks’ throne room uninvited!” Zoro calls out, bringing out one of his swords in case things get ugly.

“Watch me.” y/n says calmly, looking straight ahead as they begin to approach the door.

“Goddammit y/n! Do you have a death wish or something?” Zoros’ voice gets a little frantic, and Peronas’ heart beats quicker than it was already.

“Mihawks gonna kill us if we’re the reason he gets killed.” Perona whispers to Zoro, getting a nod out of him as he takes a deep breath to brace himself for the inevitable.

The 3 reach the door leading into Mihawks’ throne room. Zoro and Perona exchange a glance, then without any hesitation y/n opens it and walks inside.

Inside the throne room Mihawk sits there with a book in hand and the newspaper off to the side, his teacup is empty and he’s got his usual stoic expression. When the 3 walk in he looks up, a hint of curiosity on his face. His gaze immediately falls onto y/n, and his eyes grow wide alongside his pupils dilating. His hands lose grip of the book he was reading and it falls onto the ground with a soft thud.

Perona points at y/n. “We told-” Before she could speak she yelps in pain, Zoro nudging her ribs with his elbow to shut her up, knowing Mihawk can surely handle the situation from here.

“Y-y/n?” Mihawk says breathlessly, his heart beating wildly in his chest and his eyes still wide.

She swallows, her breathing becoming a little shallow as her heart races just the same. “They let me leave early.”

Mihawk keeps looking at her, and says in a breathless voice as he absorbs her words. “You’re back…early…” He can’t believe his eyes.

Zoro and Peronas’ anger makes way for the overwhelming confusion they feel as they look over the interaction, Zoro puts his sword away but keeps his guard up.

“Mihawk…you know her?” Zoro asks quietly, his voice full of confusion and slight concern.

Mihawk doesn’t take his eyes off of y/n, and struggles to speak as he replies in a horse whisper. “Yes…I know her.”

y/n walks closer to Mihawk as he stands up from his throne. His eyes set on her, not even seeming to register Zoro and Perona anymore. Mihawk stands still as he watches her approach, not able to move a muscle from the shock and disbelief.

As they’re only centermeres apart, Mihawk brings up his hand to cup y/ns’ face and gently runs his thumb over her cheek. y/n puts her hand around his wrist as he touches her, gently caressing his arm with her own thumb. He looks down at her and his face visibly softens, and so does hers as she looks up at him.

“They let you come home early…” Mihawk murmurs, swimming in a wave of emotions as he looks at her, it’s almost overwhelming.

y/n nods her head slowly, closing her eyes for a moment as she takes in the feel of his hand on her face. Mihawk then grabs her waist and pulls her against him, moving his other hand from her face to her waist as well and holding her tightly in his arms. y/n puts her arms around his neck firmly, leaning her face against his chest as Mihawk buries his face into the crook of her neck and taking a deep breath as he breathes her in.

Zoro and Perona look stunned, they’re completely speechless and wide eyed as they look on, their mouths open from shock.

“Is it just me…or is Mihawk acting really weird right now? And what did he mean by home? Do you think they’re-” Perona whispers to Zoro.

“I…I don’t know…but he’s acting weird alright.” Zoro whispers, mulling over the scene before them.

Mihawk holds y/n close to him, closing his eyes as he feels her body against his and the smell of her in his nostrils. They stay like this for about a minute or two in silence, just being in each other's arms and breathing the other in. In this moment, they’re just two people who have been apart for far too long.

“They should know, darling.” Mihawk murmurs hazily to y/n after a few minutes of silence, smiling lightly as he glances over at the two who look gobsmacked. He feels quite amused by how shocked they look, but refrains from laughing.

“Yeah they should, my love.” y/n murmurs back just as hazily, looking at them as well.

Mihawk kisses her neck lightly and then turns his gaze to Zoro and Perona, shifting his body so that only one arm is around her waist. Zoro and Perona wait nervously, and straighten up when Mihawk looks at them.

Mihawk lightly smiles, his haziness still prominent. “Zoro, Perona…this is y/n. She’s-” He takes a short breath, looking at y/n for a moment before looking back at the pair. “...my wife.”

Zoros’ eyes widen even further, if that’s even possible, and he opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Perona on the other hand, her face goes pale. She told this woman some awful things, even telling her she can’t walk around the house like she owned the place…when she did in fact, own the place.

“Oh my god y/n, I’m so SO sorry! I spoke to you so harshly…I thought you were an intruder and some liar!” Perona says frantically, floating up to y/n with a panicked expression. Mihawk narrows his eyes on Perona, ingesting this new information.

y/n smiles faintly and gently puts a hand on Peronas shoulder. “I understand you were just trying to protect Mihawk.” She speaks softly, knowing that Perona seems genuinely apologetic.

“Don’t speak to her like that again.” Mihawk sternly warns as y/n squeezes her shoulder, sending a shiver down Peronas spine causing her to frantically nod her head.

Perona heavily breathes out and floats back to Zoro, her cheeks red with embarrassment as she hides her face in her hands. Zoro stands still looking between the two, his brow furrowed and you can practically see the cogs turning in his head.

“You’ve been MARRIED this whole time? Why the hell haven’t we heard of her?” Zoro says in a defeated tone, scratching his head from nerves as the information sinks into him further.

“Because I’m a big name in this world, so when we got together many years ago I decided I don’t want y/n to potentially suffer the consequences that come with it. If everyone found out she’s my partner, there’s no telling what sort of people could go after her.” Mihawk says with a tough expression, his hand tightening around her waist instinctively. Perona just nods her head slowly, while Zoro still looks confused. “She’s precious to me, and I don’t want anything happening to her.”

Zoro feels respect washing over his heart, and also a lot of understanding. But he’s still finding it hard to process all of this, and can’t help but ask a little further.

“How is that even possible…” Zoro breathes out.

“We just don’t go flaunting it about, we’ve found it ensures our peace and her safety.” Mihawk replies softly, a hint of vulnerability within his words. “However, we didn’t say NO ONE knows about our marriage.” Mihawk says as he smirks lightly and feels a rush of pride run through his veins, him and y/n sharing a knowing look.

Zoros’ eyes widen again, looking between them once more. “Who else knows?”

“The other warlords, Shanks, some of the top marines, my family, Luffy…” y/n explains calmly, leaning against Mihawk a bit more.

Zoro looks flabbergasted. “LUFFY??” Perona also whips her head between the two as the information that Luffy, out of all people, know about them.

“Yeah he saw us at a restaurant a while back, and we told him to keep it a secret.” y/n says with a light smirk, squeezing Mihawks’ side lightly.

Zoro tuts and looks away, crossing his arms. This is all too weird for him.

Perona then speaks up, breaking her own silence. “How long have you two been married then?”

Mihawk smiles, feeling another rush of pride going through his veins. “Almost 7 years now.”

“Mhmm, almost.” y/n smiles, her head resting on his arm.

Zoro and Perona look gobsmacked again. They can’t help but gawk at the couple, and still have a hard time coming to terms that THE Dracule Mihawk has a wife, and for 7 years? Mihawk sighs as he looks at their faces, deciding to clear things up a bit more.

“She’s the best thing that ever happened to me and I want her to be safe, so I don’t feel the need to announce my personal life to everyone, unless it’s necessary. So I expect you two won’t go off and talk about this. Am I clear?” Mihawk looks between the two with his piercing hawkeye gaze, speaking in his scarily stern voice.

“Yeah…of course.” Zoro manages to say, tensing up at the sternness of Mihawks’ voice.

“I won’t tell a soul, living or dead.” Perona says as she nods her head quickly, her hands scrunching up her dress from the stress of being under Mihawks’ gaze.

“Good, now…you two, out. We need some alone time. We’ll answer more of your questions you’re sure to have, later.” Mihawk says in a firm voice, carrying a hint of impatience.

“Okay okay we’ll go…” Perona breathes, floating out of the throne room. Zoro just nods and follows after her, shutting the door behind them. Once they’re out of the room they can hear Zoro speak to Perona in a hushed voice. “By the way, I haven’t forgotten about how you called me bossy earlier!”

Mihawk sighs in relief and takes y/ns’ hand, sitting back down on his throne and bringing her down with him. He brings her into his lap and she sits sideways so that she’s cradled by Mihawks’ strong arms. He looks over her features, taking her in silently for a moment. Before he leans down and gently connects their lips in a soft and tender kiss, y/ns’ hand going to the side of his neck as she closes her eyes.

After a few moments, they pull back.

“I missed you…” Mihawk murmurs against her lips, pressing their foreheads together, their eyes still closed.

“I missed you too…” y/n murmurs back, breathing in his scent again.

Mihawk opens his warm honey eyes, and talks in a slightly concerned tone. “So, darling. Why did you come back early? You weren’t due to come back for another 2 months, not that I’m complaining, but did something happen?”

y/n shakes her head. “Nothing happened, I just missed you…3 months away from you took a toll on me, again. So they said it was alright for me to leave.”

He hums in acknowledgement, closing his eyes again. “I don’t like when you’re gone, I don’t like when your side of the bed is cold every night.”

It’s y/ns’ turn to sigh, tears sting her eyes slightly. “I know, darling. I don’t think I can do it anymore, I can’t keep leaving for months when I’d rather be here, with you.”

Mihawk holds her a little tighter as she says that, his face full of pain and longing. “I don’t think I can handle it either, y/n, I struggle when you’re gone. I want you to be here with me, where I can keep you safe.”

“I think…I’m gonna quit the job.” y/n says abruptly as she opens her eyes, her face portraying her longing and slight nervousness.

His eyes open in shock, widening as he takes in the information. “Really? Darling-” He says breathlessly, his arms tightening around her even more than before.

“Really. I’ll call them in the morning to tell them I’m done.” She says softly as she brings her hand up to caress his cheek.

“I thought…you were going to hold out a little longer.” Mihawk murmurs, his eyes searching hers. This feels like a lot of information she’s suddenly dumping on him.

“I know, I know…but I just…can’t. It’s unbearable. I know my job will get upset with me, but as long as I’m with you, I don’t care.” y/n murmurs back, nuzzling his nose with her own.

“Okay…good.” Mihawk says as he takes a shaky breath and smiling lightly, his eyes never leaving her face.

“You know…you dropped your book on the ground earlier, Dracule.” She mutters a little teasingly, a grin growing on her face.

“Oh be quiet, I was distracted…” Mihawk mutters as a slight blush of pink spreads over his cheeks, but he can’t help smiling down at her and running his fingers through her hair.

y/n giggles warmly, and brings Mihawk into another gentle kiss. His hand going under her shirt to her back, so he can feel her soft skin for the first time in months, and her thumb caresses the growing warmth on his face.

For the rest of the day, evening and night. The two spend their time in each other's arms and talking about y/ns’ journey out at sea. Zoro and Perona have decided to be quiet for once, and keep their distance so as to not disturb them. Mihawk and y/n go to bed that night curled up as close as they can get, feeling content and happy as they doze off to sleep.

Notes: This is my first Fanfic, so I kept it relatively short! This is also the first time I'm posting it to Tumblr, and I'm new here so I'll see how it goes <3 i hope everyone has a good day/night♡

[busycloudy]

if u write only for twst can yew do Floyd leech and and and uhhh errmmmm uhhhh guy reader mc idc whose scenemo and floyd discovers they have shared tastes and mc/reader gives him make over 😣

IF UR POTENTIALLY OPEN TO OTHER FANDOMZ.. STARTZ TREMBLING AND FOAMING AT THE MOUTH.. TARTAGLIA...

okay thanks ily pooks

thx for requesting!!! I will be actually joining new fandoms real soon and hopefully writing for them, so this will probs be my last time writing for twst atm :3 n e wayz, I hope you enjoy this!

A fluff fic

The reader is MC and goes by he/him pronouns.

This can be read in both a platonic and romantic way!

Floyd may be ooc due to the fact I haven't played twst in MONTHS + This will include hcs

You were making some kandi bracelets again since you didn't really have much else to do and also wanted to add more to your collection (you already had like 37 but shhh) until you heard your door creak, causing you to look up to a tall, smiley, blue haired figure, which was Floyd of course!

"Heya shrimpy, watcha making there~" He asked with curiosity in his eyes.

"Nothin much, just making bracelets" You responded as you tied the string together to finish this piece off.

"Ohhhh...I think I tried that before but got bored cuz the beads kept falling off" Floyd sighed, "But I like to make shirts!" Floyd excitedly claimed. "Really?? Me too!" You smiled. "We should bleach some shirts together sometime!" You requested. Floyd put a finger on his chin, pondering. "Mehhh...maybe...OR we could right now" He instead offered, to which you had to accept, hell maybe you could even give him a full makeover!

You got the black shirts, cardboard, and bleach out and began working. The two of you finished after about 15-20 minutes and adored the results. Floyd went with a skeleton type pattern and ended up cutting the sleeves off his shirt, and you'd gone with a spine with wings, but in all honesty you just went with whatever came to your head as you'd done so.

You two complemented each other's shirts and such and then you offered the idea you came up with earlier. "Floyd, what if I gave you some clothes to style with that shirt? I have some stuff that I got in a size too big so I haven't worn it yet, and I could get you some shoes" You suggested. "Shrimpy, giving me a makeover?hmmmm...sureee, but only if I can give you one too!" He said, and you nodded your head.

---

You handed Floyd your eyeliner, eyeshadow, brushes, etc and let him create away, and you discovered he was actually good at doing makeup and such.

Your makeup:

(you may imagine wtv you'd prefer tho!)

Floyd's outfit:( I couldn't find a good png and was DEF not drawing this cuz I can't 💔) FLIP I FORGOT THE KANDI. But anyways his stuff would say stuff like eel rave and sea slugs etc

Floyd entered his dorm happy with the new outfit he now has. "Ah, hello Floyd. Where has this outfit come from?" Jade came out of nowhere, asking. "I bleached this shirt, but Shrimpy gave me this other stuff! Isn't he soooo cool!" Floyd giggled. "I do rather like it...maybe I ought to see what he could do for me too..." Jade pondered

[vxmpyree]

HELLO first if all I LOVE UR WRITING ... UR NIKTO FICS MAKE ME WANNA SCREAM INTO A PILLOW (/very pos)

ive never requested anything ever so im shy n gonna use anon teehee. ANYWAYS ik you said you write for pretty much anyone but i'm still gonna ask: do you write for keegan? if you do..... could i ask for a sick fic?🙏🙏 or any type of fluff rlly. with a male reader :3 (theres barely any for him 💔) THANK YOU FOR UR SERVICE IN THIS FANDOM BTW RAHHHH🫡🫡🫡💖💖‼️‼️‼️‼️

ofc!! i dont know much about cod ghosts so sorry for any errors. thisll be my first plot fic :)) ♡ not beta read,,

[im the devil - clams casino] [0.7k wc]

when keegan returns from deployment, he finds you ill, and not just with a bit of a sniffle and cough. no, he can hear how your lungs shudder with every breath and feel how your skin is hot to the touch.

being his husband isn’t an easy job. he’s always out for one reason or another. you’ll be at home watching a film together, only for his boss to call and say that they need his help. he’s too much of a workaholic and empath to say no, i’m busy. keegan is always worrying about you, always thinking about the slight pout of your lips when he comes out of his bedroom in uniform again. 

so, seeing you like this doesn’t do any good for his anxiety. 

“you’re burning up,” he mutters, pulling a thermometer out of your mouth. 

the curtains are drawn, letting in only traces of sunlight tinted by the lavender linen. more light would only give you a headache. 

he pulls off his gloves before reaching out to touch you, not wanting to touch you with the same cloth that clutches his rifle. his rough palms move to cup your cheeks, swollen from fever and sweat. you can hardly even keep your eyes open.

“did you eat today?”

he grumbles as you shake your head. you must’ve been too sick to get out of bed, only able to helplessly roll over and try to sleep through hunger pangs. at times like this, he wishes he hadn’t chosen an occupation of aiming sniper rifles and long months of waiting in bushes or on tall buildings. then, he’d be able to take care of you. 

“do you want to eat? we’ve got… hm… soup and crackers. or bread,” he presses.

you shake your head again. you don’t want to eat!

keegan sinks into the edge of the bed and furrows his brow, considering you. he has the air conditioner unit on for your feverish top half, and keeps the sheets over your shivering legs. he’s taken your temperature and wiped you down. he gave you some tylenol, which should’ve gone with a cold glass of water, but you gulped it down before he came back with something to drink.

something is missing. there’s more that he could do for you, but he just can’t put his finger on it. 

when he lifts his head to check on you, keegan finds that you’re already staring at him. he has to stifle a smile. you are what makes him feel at home-- your accepting stares, and the slight curl of your lips. it would’ve been impossible not to wish for something more when you’re so welcoming, so warm. 

you motion with one hand for him to come closer. for a moment, he wants to say no, that his face is still covered in grease and he’s clad in heavy armor. but what’s the use in saying no to a face like yours? before he can even start stripping himself of his gear first, he’s already slipping into the sheets.

there’s the low hum of the air conditioner unit and the occasional car rolling down your quiet street. everything seems so small when he’s here with you, tucked away from the world. all he can think of is the smell of your shampoo and the slow rise and fall of your chest.

"...did you just miss me?” he whispers.

you only smile and watch him silently, looking at the bump in his nose and cheeks starting to droop with age. he’s getting older and so are you. it feels like you two only just settled down. the years have slipped through his fingers like sand. maybe it’s time for him to retire. then, he could spend all the time with you in the world.

keegan leans closer to you, and wonders if he smells like gunpowder and sweat. but he waves his worries away in favor of gathering you in his arms. his palm rubs slow circles into your back, wrinkling your old t-shirt. 

you cough into his chest and furrow your fingers into the back of his heavy jacket. your hands claw helplessly like it’ll ameliorate the itch at the back of your throat or your heavy cough. if he could, he’d do away with this sick spell. he can do things most men can’t, from scaling towering buildings to gutting men, but he can’t fix his poor husband’s fever and runny nose.

he pats your back until you settle down, becoming jelly in his arms. 

will he be sick tomorrow? definitely, but he wouldn’t mind spending a day hidden away with his husband, even if the two of you can only lie in bed and kiss each other’s warm faces.

[moonstruckme]

Hello my fave lovely! Could I request a small something about teacher reader and Stevie coming to visit her classroom(maybe he’s a teacher too and they teach upper elementary school 9-10 year olds?)

Hi sweetheart, thanks for requesting! I decided to make Steve a PE coach instead of a teacher, hope that's alright :)

(slightly terrified some big mouth fandom I don't know about is gonna find this because "Coach Steve," but I'm taking that risk)

coach!Steve x teacher!reader ♡ 573 words

The projector always puts the kids to sleep, but you’re trying to keep them alert enough to retain what an object noun is when there’s a knock at your door. It opens, and Steve’s head pokes through. 

Immediately, your kids are wide awake. 

“Coach H! Coach H!” Their voices are bulldozing over each other, competing for Steve’s attention. “Hi Coach H!”

“Hey guys.” Steve grins at them, unphased by the effects of his celebrity. “Can I borrow Miss Y/N for a sec?”

The kids know well enough that it’s not a question for them, and they look to you as you put down your dry marker, giving them all a stern look. “I’ll be right outside this door,” you warn them. “If I hear any chatter, it better be about grammar.” 

Of course, no sooner do you close the door behind you than a buzz of unapproved chatter starts up in the classroom. You ignore it. Steve’s hands find your shoulders, steering you away from the classroom window and then pressing you against the wall with the force of his kiss. 

“Stevie!” you chide, breaking away and looking around you in alarm. Thankfully, the hallway seems empty. 

“I’ll be right outside this door,” he croons in a girlish imitation of your voice. “You’re so tough with them, babe.” 

“I have to be,” you reply. “They’d walk all over me otherwise.” 

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Otherwise, huh? So that wasn’t you I saw trading lunches with Maggie the other day because she didn’t want her peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”

You flush. “I like peanut butter and jelly.” 

Steve grins, kissing your warm cheek. “My sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes at him as if he’s more annoying than endearing (you both know better, but the fun’s in the act). “What’re you doing here?” you ask him, crossing your arms. “You know how you rile them up when you come by. It’s gonna take me forever to get them back on task.” 

“Well first of all, I wanted to see you, didn’t realize that was a crime,” Steve says, grinning when you roll your eyes again, with even less feeling this time. He’s rubbing his hands up and down your arms, and soon he’s worked your hands free and is holding one in each of his. “And also, the second graders are testing today, so they’re not coming to PE. I’ll be free during your lunch.” 

You blink. “They’re having the second graders skip PE for testing? They’re going to be bouncing off the walls.” 

Steve shrugs. “Maybe they’re giving them extra recess after or something. I dunno, they didn’t ask me about it.” He squeezes your hands. “So, lunch.” A suave smile spreads across his face, and you know it’s meant as a joke but your knees go a bit wobbly anyway. “Wanna sit together?”

You bite your lip, but it’s useless; your smile can’t be contained. “Sounds good, handsome. My classroom? Eleven thirty?”

“It’s a date.” Steve leans forward again, and this time you oblige him, the kiss short but sweet enough to rot your teeth. “Okay, I’ve got fifth grade in five,” he says, letting go of your hands and walking backwards down the hallway. “Tell your kids I said to chill out.” 

“That’ll only make it worse,” you reply, laughing. “See you at lunch, Stevie.” 

He grins as he pushes the door open with his back, sunlight flooding the hallway. 

[idioticsky]

Lost Boys Backstory: Marko

Word count: 669

Hello, lost boys fandom. Please accept my peace offering of what I think Marko's backstory could be.

Background: I imagine him living in Messina, Italy, and being about 17 by the time the earthquake of 1908 hit there, anyways onto the story

WARNING: Implications of children dying

--------------------------------

Marko lied there, trapped under what remained of the bakery by his home. His eyes stung from all the debris; his ears rang, muffling out all the screaming and crying from the tragedy around him. He tried to stand, to search for his family, only to look back and find his legs crushed and bleeding under the rubble.

--------------------------------

The day was like any other, Marko waking up to his sister in her little pink dress, tugging at his pillow, only for him to cover his head with a blanket. "Marko's not home right now. Try again later," he joked, earning a pout from the little girl. He'd spend his morning getting ready to help his mother run their craft store while his father went out to start his rounds delivering mail around Messina.

Marko got to work, moving boxes and suggesting different materials to customers. "Marko!," a little boy dressed in a simple shirt and trousers yelled, running over to Marko and drawing his attention away from his work.

"Yes, Angelo?," Marko bent down to be on the same level as the little boy, "what's up?"

"Can you take come and play with me, Antonio, and Maria? We're really, really bored," Angelo asked as he held onto his older brothers hand, having Marko's heart melt a little. "Wish I could, but mom needs all the help she can get today," Marko turned back to the box in his arms, "Why don't you go and find some treats out in the town? I'm sure mom would give you some money to get them if you ask really nicely," he smiled before turning back to his work.

--------------------------------

Marko took another shaking breath, the dust and debris burning his lungs. "Help..! Help me..! Please..," he cried, trying to have someone, anyone, hear him.

--------------------------------

"Marko, could you go fetch your brothers and sister for me? I want them home before it gets dark outside," his mother asked. "Yeah, I'll go find them, Mama," Marko replied before he set off to go find his siblings out by a bakery two streets down. As he walked, Marko could tell that something was... off. He couldn't tell what, but he knew he needed to find his siblings soon and get them home. Marko soon started to run, the uneasy feeling sinking in deeper as he bolted for the bakery. Then, the cause of his uneasiness hit. The ground started to shake, throwing him off balance as he watched the people on the street start to worry.

--------------------------------

Marko soon finally heard a noise: footsteps, and they were coming closer. "Help..! Please..!," he called out, his eyes finally starting to fuzz as the figure moved closer. Then, after what felt like an eternity, it faded to black.

--------------------------------

The earth continued to shake as Marko tried to run. Buildings started to fall, roads began to crack, and people cried out to be saved, but all Marko could think of was finding his little brothers and little sister.

"Maria! Antonio! Angelo?! Where are you?!," he cried out, his mind racing as he saw the glimpse of a small, pink dress. He ran as fast as his legs could take him. "Maria!" Marko yelled, looking up to see the building coming down; it was coming down too fast to push her out of the way. In a moment of panic, Marko ran to hug his sister, using his body to shield her from the building coming down on them.

--------------------------------

Marko came back around to a man carrying him away from the rubble. He had groomed brown hair and dark eyes and was dressed like one of the wealthy customers that occasionally visited the craft store. Marko soon noticed him talking to a blonde boy who didn't look to be much older than himself. He couldn't understand what they were saying, their voices sounding like they were underwater, then he passed out once again, knowing that his home was nothing more than a dusty memory now.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Dress Up

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!reader

Summary: Lila wants to wear matching Halloween costumes with you, and you're both surprised when Deacon joins.

Warnings: pure fluff, Tangled references. I can't stop putting Transformers everywhere I can get away with

Word Count: 1.2k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Photo from Paramount Press

“This is the story of how I died. But don’t worry, this is a fun story, and the truth is, it isn’t even mine.”

You smile at the familiar sound of Tangled playing on the television. Lila has decided that it is her favorite movie since watching it with you for the first time several months ago. Since then, she’s started it alone, asked to watch it for family movie night, and pretended to be Rapunzel more times than you can count.

“Again?” you ask playfully. “Do you want popcorn?”

“Not until they get to the Duckling!” Lila answers, not looking away from the screen.

“The Snugly Ducking?” you clarify as you move to sit beside her. “Why then?”

“Because it’s a restaurant,” Lila says as if it’s obvious. “And I like the song.”

You hum and turn your attention to the movie. It’s a great movie, no doubt, and when Lila moves closer to you while Mother Gothel takes Rapunzel from the castle, you decide you’ll watch it as many times as Lila wants.

“Lila,” you whisper. “What do you want to be for Halloween?”

She frowns and says, “Matthew told me it was dumb.”

“Matthew was wrong. He clearly doesn’t know what you like. So…”

She gestures weakly to the screen, and you ask, “Rapunzel?”

She shrugs, and you pat her shoulder before you retrieve your phone and look for family costumes based on the movie. The third picture shows a man and woman dressed as Flynn and Rapunzel and a young girl smiling in a Pascal costume.

“Something like this?” you ask, passing her your phone.

“Yes!” Lila exclaims. “I can be Pascal?!”

“Sure!”

“And you’ll be Rapunzel?”

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. The goal had been to find Lila a costume, but if she wants a matching costume, you’ll gladly dress up with her. Deacon plans to spend every holiday of the rest of your life with you anyway, so this should be a good place to start.

“And we can surprise Dad,” Lila adds.

“Right. We’ll find the perfect costumes, make them, maybe, and surprise him after work that day!”

“Yay!” Lila screams.

“Hold on,” you say with Flynn. “Yep, I’m used to it. Guys, I want a castle.”

Lila laughs as she settles beside you again, and you save the picture to ensure the costumes you decide on are as perfect as possible.

“This is a very big day, Pascal,” you murmur softly.

With a week and a half to Halloween, you know every word of Tangled, and the final touches are nearly complete on Lila’s costume. She’s managed to keep it a secret from Deacon, but you’re not sure she can make it to Halloween without slipping up.

“Lila, can you try this on for me?” you ask.

“Yep!”

She runs into the bedroom where you’ve been working and sticks her arms out. You smile and slide the green sleeves over her arms before checking the covered zipper in the back.

“Adorable,” you decide. “Does it feel okay?”

Lila nods quickly, looking down at her costume as she sways.

“Try yours on!” she says excitedly.

“I have to finish mine first,” you explain. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Hello?” Deacon calls as he enters the front door. “Anyone home?”

“No!” you yell, quickly removing Lila’s costume to return it to the closet.

“Can we watch-“ Lila begins.

“Let me guess,” you interrupt. “Die Hard?”

“No! Tangled!”

“Oh, what’s that about?” you tease.

Lila hugs you, then runs to greet her dad. A moment later, he appears in the doorway, smiling at you.

“What are you doing in here?” he asks.

“I was looking for a pencil. They just can’t get Flynn’s nose right.”

Deacon chuckles and pulls you into a hug. He kisses the top of your head and then leads you back to the kitchen to help you finish dinner.

“Thank you,” Deacon says. “The kids love you; I love you, but you don’t have to do so much for us.”

“I want to. I love the kids, too.”

“Just the kids?”

You smile and tilt your chin up for a kiss. After Deacon pulls back, you nod and say, “I love you, too. Go sit with Lila and Samuel, I’ll finish here.”

“Matthew’s at the sleepover?” Deacon asks.

“He is. Everything was going well over there last I checked.”

Deacon drags his hand across your back as he exits the kitchen. When you walk into the living room a few minutes later to tell them dinner is ready, Lila points to Pascal. You know what’s coming but don’t have time to stop her before she speaks.

“That’s what I looked like!” she says.

“You’re dressing up as Pascal?” Deacon deduces.

She looks at you, guilty. When you smile and nod, she answers, “Yep!”

“Interesting costume choice.” Deacon looks at you with a smile. He adds, “I’m sure you’ll look just like him.”

“He’s a chameleon, so you might not be able to find me.”

“I’ll always find you, Lila.”

Your phone chimes with an incoming text while you’re securing Lila’s Pascal mask onto the back of her costume. Once it’s attached, you read the message from Deacon and smile.

“Your dad got off early,” you tell her. “He’s on his way home to trick or treat with all of us.”

“Can you help me?” Matthew asks, walking into the room with his costume hanging around his waist. “I can’t get my arms in the sleeves.”

“Of course, get over here, Optimus Prime,” you answer.

“I’m Nemesis Prime,” Matthew corrects as you pull the plastic plates over his hands.

“For now. Where’s Bumblebee?”

“Here!” Samuel announces, posing in the doorway with his hands on his hips.

“Wow! You look great.” Matthew steps back once his costume is in place, and you say, “Your dad is on the way home.”

Matthew and Samuel walk with heavy robot steps toward the living room to wait for their dad and fill him in on their Autobot adventures. Lila waits in the room with you as you put things away. Just before you reach up to close the window, someone stops outside it.

“Rapunzel!” Deacon yells. “Let down your hair!”

You laugh as you walk to the window. The laughter fades into shock when you see Deacon. He’s on the path to the front door in a Flynn Rider costume. Just when I thought he couldn’t get more attractive, you think.

“Let down your hair,” he repeats, smiling.

You pull the long braid you made of yarn, a blonde wig, and fake flowers over your shoulder and drape it over the windowsill.

“Get in here, Fitzherbert,” you demand.

Deacon salutes you, then walks to the front door. Once the window is closed, you follow Lila through the hall to greet Deacon properly.

“You’re Flynn,” you murmur, smoothing Deacon’s costume across his chest. “It’s a good look for you.”

“You look beautiful,” he replies, holding your waist. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Deacon kisses you quickly, but you’re interrupted by Samuel singing, “I want candy!”

“Rapunzel?” Deacon asks, offering his hand.

You take his hand, then offer your free hand to Lila. While Optimus Prime (already saved from his Nemesis Prime brainwashing, as you expected) and Bumblebee lead the way, you walk with the love of your life and the chameleon that brought you together.

“You can’t complain when she asks to watch this movie again,” you whisper to Deacon.

“I’m going to introduce her to The Goonies next,” he jokes.

Lila pulls you toward a house, and your hand slips out of Deacon’s as you reply, “Not until you do the truffle shuffle.”

[mchlgayser]

☆ we've met again ft michael kaiser

synopsis: Four years past since you left and raised his kid alone until fate decides to bring him back to the picture.

─── ୨୧ warning: slight angst

─── ୨୧ notes: Is the fandom dying?? Why hadn't my post gotten as many hype as before lmao! It's sad but anyway I'm back with another drabble to feed you all!! Happy reading everyone xoxo!

You hastily pick up your car key and grab a few of your works essential stuffing them inside your suitcase. Your four-year-old son is by the patio sitting and playing games with his nanny when you tread to him 'Kay, mama had some work to do. I promise I'll be back for dinner. Be a good boy for me and do not cause trouble alright? Have a nice day at school.: He nods putting down his gadget, and wrapping his arms around your neck to hug you 'I love you' You give the side of his head a chaste kiss before letting go.

'I had some leftovers from last night you can use as his lunch and as for the dinner I'll just buy takeouts.' You inform his nanny giving her an advance payment before you left the house.

You drove to your office receiving an unknown call on the way. You pick it up and greet the caller but silence. They said nothing before it abruptly ended. You stare at your phone before shaking your head. It didn't occur to you about anything serious as you continue steering the car and parked at the basement parking lot.

Your secretary, Miss. Juliette is already by the automatic door waiting for you with a clipboard in her hands. You got out of the car and rush to her 'What's my schedule for today?' You punch the elevator button while your secretary notify you about every single of your tasks today.

You got a lunch with one of your important client, a meet -up with your temporary business partners and a dinner with another client -

'Cancel my dinner with Mr. Han. I'm having dinner with Kayden tonight.' Juliette didn't need to be asked twice knowing how firm you can be when it comes to your son. For him, everything comes first. No matter how important your job is. She immediately postponed the dinner meeting to another date before moving along with you to your cabin.

'Do you need your coffee today?' You rapidly nod and start doing your tasks, bringing out works and files so that you can finish faster. 'Make it two, I need extras.' You lend a sweet smile before you got to work.

The clock almost strikes six - just enough time for you to finish all of your work for the day and get the takeouts you ordered online. You pack your stuff and your necessities when your phone rang for the nth times of the day. You didn't think twice before picking up 'Hello?' It was silence... Again before a sharp and low 'Hey' is heard.

You blink in surprise asking them to know who they are but no answer and it ended again. You rolled your eyes and left the room to the car park. Yo throw away your bag in the back seat and resounded the car, cooling off the engine and blowing on some loud music to distract you from the suspicious spam calls.

'Yes, thank you so much! Have a nice day!' You rolled up the window putting down the food beside you on the shotgun seat. You maneuver the car to Kayden's school in silence but the radio.

You arrive at Kayden school's main gate and got out to meet with his teacher 'Hello ma'am. I'm here to pick Kayden up.' She was looking at you back and forth 'A man has already picked him up claiming to be your husband. Kayden went along with him.' You started to panic bringing out your phone and calling his nanny asking her to come by his school and help you look around.

You bow down at his teacher and run around the neighborhood, looking for your son. Thick tears threaten to fall when you look around but find him nowhere.

You call for his name again but are abruptly interrupted when you see a vogue silhouette of your son with a familiar blond and blue streaks hair sitting together on a bench near the playground.

'Kayden!' You yelled his name averting his whole attention toward you 'Mama!' He cries out running your direction to hug your trembling form 'You scared me!' You scolded him with tears now cascading down your cheeks 'I'm sorry...' You sigh tightening your hug and breaking it off after some moments.

You suddenly remembered the familiar blond guy with your son 'And who are you with-'

'He is with me.' The familiar voice brings you out of your trance. You pick Kayden up and rush away but he holds your hand 'I met him already, no need to hide away.' You carefully yank his hand away and sigh.

You put Kayden down and hide him behind you out of instinct.

His irises collided with yours, the identical smile adorning his complexion. 'This weird uncle said that he's my father. I don't believe him because he is so ugly. I don't have an ugly father right, ma? I'm too handsome to be his son.' He absentmindedly roasted his biological father that succeeded to bring a smile and a chuckle from you.

You pull his hand gently and turn to Kaiser 'He got all your traits.' You mentioned bringing confusion written all over Kayden's face.

'You are making my mama cry.' He said creating a dagger on Kaiser 'Am not.' He challenged, his hand on his midriff with his head tilt aside 'You are. If you are my father then you are the reason my mama cried almost every day because... She missed you.' A soft gasp elicited from you, your eyes sheet moist with tears once more.

'Then tell her, she should've not run away.' Kaiser held your hand, one brow furrowing. You push him away and wipe your tears. 'Kayden, stop spouting nonsense.' He huffs and pouts away.

'How do you find out about us?' He shrug 'I had my ways and that is not your concern. Not at all.' He lifts your chin and smirks 'You are still as beautiful as I remember.' You scoff but could not help the bright red hue on your cheeks.

'And I suppose it was you too, the one that's been calling me?' He laughs but nodded 'But I'm sure with my calls it helps to remind you of one thing.'

'And that is...?'

'It would be dangerous for such a gorgeous lady as you to be in a house that's not with your husband.'

'Can you stop flirting with my mama, weird uncle.' Kaiser is about to bite the tongue of his son but you prevent him from doing so 'Kay, I need you to start getting along with this uncle from now on.' He groan cut obligated

'Do you finally accept me back? Oh, and I need an explanation as to why you left. It can't be because of you are pregnant...' You look down at Kayden and ignored his question.

His mouth formed an 'o' shape but then he smiles 'I guess I can forgive you.'

'I think I need some time...' You suddenly mention making Kaiser confused 'About what?' You held his forearm 'About us.'

He nods picking Kayden up and make him yelps in surprise 'Sure. Let's go now little K.'

He places an arm around your waist and the other used to hold Kayden. You smile feeling somehow relieved - Kaiser and Kayden ended up bickering as to who you loves more all the way home and they both get a nice scolding after.

[companionjones]

Your Thoughts

Pairing: Edward Cullen x Reader

Fandom: Twilight

Warnings: Anxiety, self-hatred, one curse word

*******

    He first heard them off in the distance. Then, they got louder, and louder, and louder. He finally realized who all the thoughts were coming from as you entered the room.

    Sadly, you immediately walked right in front of a fan. Edward had to physically hold himself back from attacking you as soon as he could smell you. Your blood was like his own personal brand of heroine.

    Aaannd Edward had to spend an entire class with you sitting next to him. He thought that after hundreds of years he was finally going to snap and lose everything.

    What made things worse, was that he could read your mind. All you could think was that you badly reeked and everyone could smell you. Your thoughts only got worse from there.

    By the end of the class, Edward needed to get out of there, but he couldn’t without telling you, “It’s not your fault,” before leaving.

    Edward tried to get out of Biology. When he couldn’t, he was gone for about a week, trying to get his shit together.

    Although you were no longer around him, Edward couldn’t get your thoughts out of his head. He felt horrible that he made you feel like that. Changing your thoughts was the only reason he went back to school.

    When Biology rolled around, Edward headed for the seats in which you and he had been sitting, only to find that you could not have been sitting farther from them.

    Along with your overwhelming scent, Edward heard all of your thoughts again, and they were just as dark and lonely as before. Edward fought past his vampire instincts and sat next you you again. He offered a light smile in your direction.

    Your thoughts responded accordingly. If Edward had to put one word to them, it would’ve been confusion.

    He tried to levee your thoughts with conversation. “Hello.” He cursed himself for sounding so rehearsed. “I’m sorry for not introducing myself last week...I’m Edward Cullen.”

    “I’m Y/n L/n,” you introduced.

    You were scared of him, that much was obvious from your thoughts. But you weren’t scared of Edward in the way he expected. You were scared of him like you were scared of everyone, and you wondered why he, why anyone, would talk to you.

    Edward hoped those thoughts would leave you as he talked to you longer.

    “Do you like the weather here?” He decided that was a normal enough question to ask.

    Perhaps it was too normal of a question, because you thought it a bit odd that he had asked. You replied anyway, “Yeah, I do. It has been raining a lot, though. I miss the sun.” You hoped you hadn’t talked for too long.

    Edward wished you hadn’t thought that. He couldn’t remember ever reading a mind that had as much anxiety as yours did. He wanted so badly to lighten up your mind that he found himself agreeing with you about the sun. It wasn’t untrue. Edward did miss the sun, just maybe a little less now because seeing it would mean he wouldn’t be able to see inside your mind for the day.

    You and Edward talked for the rest of the class. He asked you many questions: How long you had been in town, what was the farthest you’d been from home, etc. He just couldn’t get enough of you or your mind. He had also succeeded in getting your mind to stop thinking such terrible things about yourself. Well, he did, at least until the bell rung.

    Thoughts started flooding your head about how you didn’t want him to go because this was the best interaction you could remember having.

    Who was Edward to deprive you of that?

    He knew he shouldn’t have, but he kept talking to you. When the bell rang and you both had to go to your next class, Edward exchanged phone numbers with you so you could text during class. The two of you did so for the rest of the day.

    “You should really let me drive you home today. It’s still raining.” Edward texted after the final bell.

    You texted back, “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

    “You’re not asking, I’m offering. Let me drive you home,” he said as he approached you from behind.

    Edward had just made you smile for the first time. He felt his long-dead heart flutter. Edward also felt the eyes of his siblings on him. He knew they had heard what he had just said because everyone’s thoughts were heavily cautioning him to just leave you.

    Everyone’s thoughts except Alice’s. “Just go. It’ll be fun.”

    Maybe it was because she was thinking very clearly, or maybe it was because Edward wanted to hear that the most, but either way, Alice’s thoughts came through louder than the rest of his siblings. It was what convinced him to get into his car with you.

    And so, Edward drove you home that day. He also drove you to and from school the next day, and the next day, and every day for the rest of that week.

    When Friday rolled around, you got into Edward’s car with questions rolling around inside your head.

    “Why are you being so nice to me, Edward?”

    He shrugged. “Because I think you’re kind, and amusing, and beautiful--”

    A few things.

    One, surprisingly, Edward didn’t often think of the words coming out of his own mouth because he was often so occupied by other people’s thoughts inside his head. That was why he had admitted that he thought you were beautiful.

    Two, you had been thinking that question so loud and so repetitively that Edward didn’t hear any of your other thoughts as you got into his car.

    Three, you thought of something else so quickly before acting that Edward didn’t have time to react accordingly.

    But Edward has super speed. Shouldn’t he be able to react fast no matter what? Well, not with what you had in store for him. With what you thought, Edward needed at least a second to think before reacting.

    You had kissed Edward.

    Yes, he needed that one second to process what was happening. Edward also needed another second to get his body to react.

    He pulled away from you and got out of the car. Edward tried his best to get your scent out of his system.

    You got out of the car too. “I am so, so sorry. I think--I guess I misread the messages and assumed--I’m so sorry.” You started walking in the school’s direction.

    Your thoughts were a mess. Never had Edward heard as much self-hatred that wasn’t aimed at himself.

    He used his vampire speed to catch up to you before you turned around. “Y/n.”

    When you faced him, you briefly wondered how he had gotten to you so fast. But, just as you had done with Edward, he didn’t give you time to think.

    He placed both hands on either side of your face (avoiding your pulse) and leaned toward you.

    Truthfully, Edward was leaning in a little slow in fear of his blood lust, but then he heard your thoughts.

    “He’s going to kiss me! Yes!”

    That made Edward fully smile before he pressed his lips to yours.

    The kiss lasted about seven seconds.

    When you separated, you commented, “This is insane.”

    “Sweetheart,” he smiled, “You have no idea.”

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time, if you would like to read more, check out my masterlist over on my page. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[andreaheartscats]

Hello! Love the blog! May I make a request? A sally face request (I miss the fandom so much)

Just wanna request Sal fisher x fem reader her visiting him in prison and comforting him, like giving him a hug, petting his hair, giving him kisses on his face. Poor man looks so broken during the trial.

omg hii !!! thank you sooo much and i loveee this idea !! :) i hope i don't disappoint !

Sal x Fem!reader comfort!

spoliers(?)

->not proofread, kinda short?

Sal was currently in his cell, anxiously waiting for his upcoming tiral. He wasn't proud of what he had done but he didn't have much of a choice anyway.. Just as he was getting lost in his thoughts the door to his cell opend. Sal jumped up slightly from the sudden sound of the door and his head turned to the officer standing there looking angry per usual.

"You've got a visitor, Fisher."

Words he never thought he would hear. Somone came to visit him? That was a shocker for sure.

The angry officer put handcuffs on Sals wrist and lead him to the talking room where his visitor was waiting for him patiently. As Sal entered the room his eyes slightly widened under his mask at the sight of you, still smiling at him like he didn't do anything wrong. As Sal took a seat infront of you, the officer left the room giving the two of you some privacy like you requested.. Although he couldn't really give you too much of privacy, i mean after all this is a prison.

"Long time no see, Sal."

You spoke gently to him, you missed his blue hair and those eyes that now look so sad and tired under the prosthetic mask he is wearing.

"Yeah..i didn't expect anyone to visit me."

Your heart hurt at his words.

"I think you're innocent, Sal."

As you said those words, you put your hand over his and gently brush against it. You knew he was innocent, you just had to prove it somehow.

"Well..seems like you're the only one that thinks that"

You let out a deep sigh as you tighten the grip on his hand.

"Sal, trust me. I'll get you out of this mess."

You swore you could see the tears swell up in his eyes, but he quickly looked away. You tooka quick glance at the clock on the wall that was ticking rather loudly.

"We don't have much time left to talk."

Sal cleared his throat as the two of you got up. You didn't waste a second and quickly pulled him into your embrace. You could feel his warmth and his heart-beat. You knew he needed this hug but so did you.

"I'll come and visit you again as soon as i can."

You mumble into the hug as Sal tightness his arms around you and hums as a replay.

The door opens abruptly and the two of you let go of eachother.

"Alright, visit time is up."

The police officer said as he got a hold of Sal and lead him out of the room. You and Sal shared your last glances as he left and the feeling of emptiness came rushing back to you without him being here.

It is time to prove that Sal is, indeed innocent.