#just cleaned my entire room and i'm still not done

[willandmichael]

well good morning byler truthers i literally fell on the bus on my way out i'm so EMBARRASSED i think i deserve the van scene script today as a treat

[phantom-does-a-thing]

i love literally just trying to vibe and then the most raw insecurities start to crawl out of the walls like scurrying insects

[slasher-male-wife]

Horror characters seeing their s/o covered in blood

Happy Halloween everyone. I did a poll awhile ago on what I should post for Halloween and this won. So I'm here to deliver what y'all voted on. I included a lot of characters in this just for fun. Disclaimer I haven't written for some of these characters in awhile or that much at all, so sorry if some of these are ooc.

Includes: Amanda Young, Michael Myers, Otis Driftwood, The Lost Boys, Candyman, Doomhead, Patrick Bateman, Severen Van Sickle, Pyramid Head, and The Sinclair brothers

Warnings: Mentions of real and fake blood, slightly suggestive content, gn reader, talk of drinking blood in The Lost Boys and Severen's section, violence, murder

Amanda Young

You weren't supposed to find out about what Amanda did. She wanted to keep you separate from the gore of her apprentice work. But accidents happen and somehow you get to where a trap had happened.

You were in the where-house when you slipped on a puddle of blood and got your entire front half covered in it. You screamed out and Amanda quickly came rushing in.

You standing there covered in blood made something tick inside of Amanda. Something she knows she shouldn't feel seeing you covered in blood.

But she pushes this aside and quickly assures you it's fake blood that happened to spill all over the ground. She can't stop herself from giving you a quick kiss before helping you leave.

She'll get you all cleaned up back at home but she won't be able to stop thinking about seeing you covered in blood.

Michael Myers

Michael was out while you were getting ready for a Halloween party. A part of your costume involved you getting drenched in fake blood. After pouring the fake blood all over yourself in your bathtub you let it dry and step out.

You're downstairs, gathering up your things for the party when you notice the feeling that you're being watched. You turn around and spot Michael watching you.

Michael knows what real blood looks like and considering you're pretty calm he knows this is for your costume. But something inside of him is yelling at him. Not in the usual 'kill someone' way, but in a 'get them and try not to hurt them' way.

You're going to be late to that Halloween party. Michael is going to stand there and make you spin around for him so he can watch you move while you're covered in blood. You know he's getting some kind of kick out of this, so who are you to stop his fun.

After this Michael will try to hint at you to get covered in blood more often. He'll even offer to get the blood this time, but it wouldn't be fake if he got it. He'll keep thinking about you covered in blood and won't be forgetting how it made him feel anytime soon.

Otis Driftwood

You walked in on him at a bad time. While you've grown to accept what your boyfriend does, you don't like partaking in his torture of other people. But when you walked into the wrong room at the wrong time you got sprayed all over with blood.

It coats your face, hair and chest. You thankfully didn't get any in your eyes or mouth. You do let out a scream of surprise but you're not too grossed out by the blood, living with the Firefly family for as long as you have will do that.

Otis takes a good long few moments to just stare at you. You're hot enough as it is, but seeing you all covered in blood like this? Otis is going to have to go take a long cold shower.

"Well isn't this my lucky day." He'll say before walking over to you, completely ignoring the victim now. He'll take all of you in and won't let you wash it off so quickly.

"I just wanna take a couple pictures of ya darlin'." He'll quickly get his camera out and have you pose for him while you're still covered in blood. This will come in handy when he's having art block or he just needs to have some 'personal time'.

The Lost boys

It's your first time feeding and it ended up getting really messy for you, considering you've never done it before. So you got just as much blood all over yourself as you did in your mouth.

Dwayne is the first to notice and he's smirking a little to himself as he watches your blood covered body move. He's committing this sight to memory and he'll probably find a way to get you covered in blood again.

David is the next to notice. He'll smile wider than Dwayne and make some comments about how messy eating can get at times. But he'll also talk about how hot you look covered in blood.

Marko doesn't even make a comment, he just straight up lunges and kisses you right then and there, fangs still out and everything. Seeing you all vamped out and covered in blood really got to him, making him loose all self composer that he has.

Paul also joins in on kissing you, but he'll opt for your neck since your mouth is taken. I can see him licking some blood off of you, but not too much because he loves the sight of you drenched in blood. But the boys will agree to try and get you that messy again the next time you feed.

Candyman

You didn't want to go with him. You summoned him and when he showed you how devoted he is to you, you didn't want to go. So he had no other option than to make you go by force.

You're entering your apartment after going to a Halloween party. Your costume was something you put together quickly and involved you pouring fake blood all over your front half. As you walk further into your apartment you get a strange feeling.

You try to ignore it as you walk to your bathroom to wash off the fake blood. Before you can do that you hear something moving in your medicine cabinet. You open it and after a few moments a hook jumps through it. You obviously scream and run out of your bathroom.

You're in your kitchen, picking up your phone when you see him again. He's looking at you with that same adoration in his eye from the first time you met him. He's looking you up and down. You're frozen again as he watches you.

"You're even more desirable covered in blood," He says in his sultry voice. You shed a couple tears as you try to move, but you're unable to. "I'll have to remember this the next time I see you my love. I'll never be able to forget this."

Doomhead

He knew you were going to a Halloween party, but what he didn't know was that you were going to be covered in blood when you came home. He knows real blood from fake blood and when he sees you he can't help but chuckle.

31 is coming up and he's always tried to keep you separate from it. Seeing you covered in blood is a bit of a double edged sword for him. On one hand he loves seeing you covered in blood, but he also can't stop thinking about 31, and what would happen if you got caught in it.

"Ok so I got a little too close to one of the decorations and I accidentally got covered in fake blood." You explain, taking off your shoes, "I should probably shower all of this off."

"Well I was hoping to get a better look at you like this." He says with a Cheshire grin. You roll your eyes but smile and walk over to him. He spins you around a bit, taking a good look at all of the blood on you.

He knows he'll have to tell you about 31 eventually, and that he'll always keep you away from it. But for right now he can enjoy watching his s/o look stunning while covered in blood.

Patrick Bateman

He got a little too careless and right as he was killing someone you walked in, getting covered in blood from the victim. You of course start to scream and he quickly covers your mouth.

He's so angry with you for interrupting this, but something about seeing your face and body covered with blood, excites him. "I can explain this. Calm down and listen to me." He says, trying to keep his voice calm. His anger starts to mix with arousal as he slowly slides his hand away from your mouth.

"Oh my god Patrick what happened? Who is this?" You ask, holding back tears. His attraction to you is starting to get a bit too much for him. He'll find a way to explain this murder, just like he'll find a way to explain why he wants to do it while you're covered in blood.

"He broke in and attacked me. I had to fight him off and I went a bit too hard I think. We can't tell anyone about this alright?" He says, trying his best to keep a calm, in control voice, "But right now we need to get to the bedroom.

Murder's don't get him as excited as seeing you covered in blood got him. He'll have to go out and buy some fake blood and recreate this with you again. He's glad he has such an understanding s/o.

Severen Van Sickle

It's been awhile since your last feed and when you finally got someone you could barely hold back from drinking as quickly as possible. Because you were so worried about eating as much as you could as quickly as possible you got yourself covered in blood.

After you pushed the body away Severen took notice of your blood soaked clothes. He couldn't stop himself from smiling and taking a good long look at you. He knows you'll be too full to do anything after feeding that much so he'll have to commit this sight to memory, just for some fun activities later.

You wipe your mouth and smear more blood over your face and Severen can barely contain himself at this point. He'll have to quickly ask you if you're up to help him, or if he should do it alone.

Either way he doesn't want you cleaning yourself up anytime soon. Even after his issue is taken care of he just wants to see you covered in blood. He loves how it looks in general but also aesthetically. If he has a camera on hand he's taking a picture of you.

He will try to recreate this later. Next time you're feeding he'll try to get blood all over you. I can see him filling up his mouth with blood and just spitting it on you because let's be honest, he's very dirty and probably has as many diseases as a stray cat.

Pyramid Head

You're walking around Silent Hill, trying to find some more food to stock up on when you come across one of Pyramid Head's recent kills. You don't notice and you slip on the puddle of blood.

You're used to the blood and gore of living with Pyramid Head in Silent Hill so slipping on blood and getting it all over your clothes is more of an inconvenience than scary. You groan and stand up, looking at blood slightly dripping off your clothes.

You turn around and find him standing near you. "I just slipped on some blood. It's not mine and I'm not hurt." You say. You can never really tell what he's feeling or his emotions but you can sense he's feeling a certain way about you being covered in blood.

You two just stand there while Pyramid Head is thinking about smearing more blood all over you. Seeing you covered in blood is doing something to him. So he walks over, get's blood on his hands and rubs it over your face and clothes.

He'll follow you around and just keep watching you while you're covered in blood. He'll be thinking about this for awhile, and he'll try to recreate it whenever there's free time or he just needs to see you covered in blood.

Bo Sinclair

You were busy going after a victim and it got a bit messy. You got yourself covered in blood. By the time you get the body back to the House of Wax the blood that's on your hair and face has dripped down to soak your clothes even more.

You hand it off to Vincent and when Bo sees you he pauses for a moment before he chuckles. "I like yer new look darlin'." He says teasingly. But he's using that teasing to mask how damn hot you are covered in blood.

You're able to pick up on this and you know a great way to get him back for making you chase down someone and kill them.

"Oh I know. I love this look too." You say teasingly back to him, moving your hands up and rubbing your hand over your face and neck, getting a good amount of blood on it. You walk over to Bo and smear the blood on his shirt before you step back.

"Too bad I'm about to wash it off." You say before you dodge Bo trying to grab you, "If you catch me before we get to the house I'll let you wash it off." You say before running out of the house, Bo follows behind quickly.

Lester Sinclair

You're helping Lester out by picking up a deer from the road. You're in the middle of lifting it into the truck when something happens and you get covered in deer blood.

Lester quickly rushes over to you and lifts the deer into the back of the truck. He's looking you over and making sure that you're ok. You'll have to assure him at least ten times that you're perfectly ok and that the deer just got blood all over you.

Now knowing that you're ok he does kind of realize that, you look good covered in blood. Lester loves when you get a bit dirty in general, but blood has him feeling a bit more excited than normal.

He'll zone out a bit for awhile until you bring him back and he acts like everything is good and he's totally not obsessing over the look of you covered in blood.

He'll keep this to himself until it starts to boil over and he admits to you that he hasn't stopped thinking about you being covered in blood. If you suggest the idea of getting covered in blood again he'll be all over that idea.

Vincent Sinclair

When you offered to model for Vincent's study you didn't expect to get covered in fake blood. But Vincent wanted you covered in blood and you didn't really mind so that's what the two of you do.

You stay still the entire time but you notice Vincent staring more than he is drawing. But once he notices you noticing him he gets back to drawing you.

He takes his damn well time to draw you and at one point he stands up and walks over to you. He starts to pose you in a different way and it's totally not an excuse to touch you and see you covered in blood up close.

He'll put you in so many different positions and will keep pouring blood on you. He's honestly memorized by you standing there covered in blood. At one point he'll bust out the camera and ask if he can film.

He sees you being covered in blood in a more romantic, artistic way that makes his heart beat faster. He'll have to get you covered in blood more often so he can draw, paint, photograph, etc you.

[wanderingandfound]

Cleaning is so physically exhausting.

[rillian4e]

Scara with an s/o thats completely insatiable out of nowhere

Like before his s/o would be tired after maybe 3 rounds? But on one random day theyre like supperrrrrr insatiable

As in its been 10+ rounds and they still want more hehe

Scenario please!

Ooh, I like this! Thank you for the ask, anon🫶

cw: nsfw fem!reader, penetration, use of degrading petnames, rough, sub!reader, dom!scaramouche, dacryphilia, spanking, not proof read.

———☆★———★☆———☆★———★☆——

Scaramouche was amused, he'd never have thought that you, his s/o who usually was completely spent after 2-3 rounds, became so needy. Not to say that Scaramouche is complaining, it's quite the opposite. He found that arousing, incredibly so.

It has been so long since you two started, you couldn't remember what orgasm this was, nth, eighth? It was all blurry as only the desire of release overwhelmed your senses entirely. Your legs draped over Scaramouche's shoulder as he fucked himself into your abused hole, "Hhnn... You're— so, so needy today, what's gotten into you? Nevertheless, let us see when you finally break." not registering his words as his cock hitting your sweet spot was all you could think about, you had been hot and bothered all day long for him, it was until after you two returned within the confines of your home that he finally caved in, punishing you for acting so needy when you were in public.

It certainly surprised him, he was a puppet, he could go on for days but he was used to being done after a few rounds and then cleaning you up afterwards, this though was a pleasant surprise to him. He saw it as a challenge to try and see how long it will take till you break. One of his hands reaching to play with your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, twisting and biting the bud, your body was all the more sensitive.

When he sees the tears well up in your eyes, he smirks, pushing himself even deeper inside your hole. His hand rubbing small circles on your swollen clit before spanking it, making you cry out, your legs trembling from the overstimulation.

Soon you found yourself cumming all over his cock, when Scaramouche thought you'd be all exhausted and beg him that you can't take anymore, but it was the opposite. "Mhhf~! Aa-ah! More...! More, please..." the words that reached his ears made him grin, he is going to give you just that. "You want more, yeah? Seems I'll have to fuck you dumb till you can't even speak, you want that, huh?" He laughed when he saw you nod, your cheeks a rosy hue, your cunt squeezing around his cock even more. Of course, he couldn't just deny his sweet little darling, could he?

After all, you were so obedient, taking him so well... He had to give you what you wanted, and so he did. The room filled with wet, squelcing sounds of skin clapping, his cock buried deep inside your used cunt, you don't remember how long it's been, you feel as if you can't take anymore but want even more, Scaramouche only cooing faux sympathy at you, telling you how you can take it and how you wanted this. "Hm, is my little whore already tired? No? Well, you will be when I'm finished with you." you were tired, yes, but hearing his words only made you wetter, the way he manhandled you with no care excited you, you will definitely want more of this in the future, even if you cannot walk days after.

[lovingmattysposts]

Quiet 9

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8

pairing: y/n and Matt sturniolo

summary: a girl with a lot of baggage and a boy with even more try to help put each others pieces back together one by one. A story about a girl who’s broken and a boy who doesn’t talk

warnings: none I don’t think? Maybe suggestive?

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

I knocked softly on the front door before stepping back. I felt my stomach twist as I waited for Jake to answer the door.

His house was ridiculous. 5 cars in the driveway, with a huge garage. A garden displaying in the front and gates that wrap around the entire house. I looked down at my clothes and tugged my shorts uncomfortably.

I let out an uneasy breath. I felt uneasy about this whole thing. The way Jake acted in front of Matt today, biology in general. I'm not even good at biology, I just jumped at the opportunity at being friends.

I shuffled my feet, I've never felt more shitty about myself. Never felt like such a liar. That's what I was. Everything about me he's seen so far was fake.

I swallowed.

The door opened and Jake's eyes landed down on mine. I couldn't not glance down at his state. His hair pushed back, his chest bare, out of breath and sweaty. He smiled and I filcked my eyes up to his and my cheeks pinkened. He just watched me checkhim out.

"Hey" He crossed him arms over his chest as he looked down at me. I let out a breath his abs mocking me as I avoided looking. "Hey" I answered, my voice shaking.

"I just got done working out, I was afraid you weren't coming" He smiled tilting his head, his eyes grazing my figure just as I'd done to him. I crossed my arms over myself as I turned and looked around to pretend I didn't notice.

"Your home is......beautiful" I breathed as I looked around. He glanced around before nodding. "Thank you, my mom takes pride in it. It's annoyingly noticeable" He chuckled before stepping back in the threshold.

"Come in" He motioned me in. I stepped forward before walking in. Everything was clean, everything was white. I couldn't help the face I made as my eyes widened in my surroundings.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, come on" He chuckled, placing his hand on my arm and pulling me towards the stairs. I sighed as I looked around. It looked like one of those homes on a tv show. Like the relator tv shows titled "How to sell a multimillion dollar home"

I swallowed.

The furniture screamed at me "You don't belong here"

I looked up at Jake as we made our way up the steps. He sighed once we finally made it up the steps. Still, I glanced around like I was in a museum. He pushed the door at the end of the hall open and we walked in.

His bedroom was dark, like any typical teenage boy's room. Poster's that held jeresey hung next to his flatscreen tv. His bed covered in navy sheets and comforter and expensive colonges on a shelf next to the bed.

It didn’t look like Matt’s room. It didn’t feel like Matt’s room.

"Welcome to the estate" He chuckled as he opened one of his drawers and pulled out a t-shirt to put on. I looked over at him as his muscles flexed and the abs were hidden again behind the fabric.

Clean cut, muscle-y guys have never really been my type. Not that I have a type, but I'm just not overly attracted to it like most girls. I've know guys who mirror Jake's physique and have the personalities of the ping pong balls they like to throw into cups full of beer.

Disappointing really. Still, girls would fall to their knees at one flash of there lined stomachs. I never saw the appeal personally. Not that they ever wanted me to anyway.

"I look like Matt, I am your type"

I looked down blinking to stop the memory.

"Are you okay?" Jake walked over to me smiling. I looked back up and gave him a quick nod as I shook the memory of Chris’s words out of my head. He approached me and peered down at me until our bodies were almost pressed together. I didn't move.

His hand came against my waist.

"Good" He smiled looking down at me. I forced a smile hoping he couldn't see the nervousness that lied within my smile.

"Come here" He said moving past me and grabbing my arm. I let him pull me until he sat me down against his bed.

He reached over onto his desk pulling out a textbook and plopping it next to me.

"It's your job to make sure I don't fail this next test" He breathed before sitting down next to me. I looked over at him chuckling.

"I said I’d help, I never said how much help I would be" I said shaking my head. He just held my stare. "I trust you" He said before opening the book.

-

Jake stared down at the page and then looked up at me.

"What?" He shook his head raising his eyebrows. I blinked at him. "What do you mean, what?" I asked back. He looked back down at the page.

"The cells--" I pointed to the page. "They have to connect. That's how they survive. It wouldn't make sense otherwise. You can't but them together wrong--they would physically explode" I breathed pointing to the page. He stared down at it.

"....Right" He tapped his pencil. I sighed and fell against his pillows. "Are you even retaining any of this?" I chuckled as I looked down at him. He glanced up at me before he dropped his head chuckling.

"It's hard to focus"

"The topic's not hard"

"That’s not what I meant" He looked up. I blinked down at him holding his stare before he sighed and looked back down. I could have swore his eyes scaled down me before he did.

"You're smart" He breathed. I pursed my lips and looked down at him. "I'm not that smart" I shook my head, I truly wasn’t. He licked his lips and then looked back down at the paper before closing the book and pushing it away from him.

I just watched him.

"I think you're smarter than you think" He said looking at me. I glanced from him to the closed book against the bed. "What?" I swallowed. He sighed and looked to the side.

Silence came between us before he sat up slightly and turned his attention to me.

"I don't think i've ever had to try this hard to get a girl to want to kiss me"

My eyes widened at his statement.

"What?" My voice wobbled again. He tapped his pencil before discarding it.

"I apologize if I'm forward, but why do you think I invited you to my game--or out with my friends...or to help with biology" He breathed motioning to the discarded book. I smacked my lips as I looked towards the book.

"I thought you....needed help with biology" I felt my nerves come up my throat. He wanted to kiss me. A boy's never said that to me before. Or wanted to do that before. I forced myself to not hug my arms out of nervousness. Was it hot in here? I let out a breath.

"I did---I do." He shook his head looking down. He glanced up at me. "I just..." He glanced down my face.

"You're really fucking pretty, and nice." He said shaking his head. “I don’t know may nice girls” His hand came over my knee. I looked down at it. My face reddened at his sentence. He chuckled. He tilted his head.

“Nadia’s nice” I spoke. He sighed and looked down. “Nadia’s sleeping with Tyler, I don’t do sloppy seconds” He raised his eyebrows.

The choice of words, I felt in my gut. It sat with me the wrong way. I opened my mouth to speak.

"I can help but want to...feel your lips against mine." He said softly. I looked down at my lap and let out a nervous laugh.

"I don't think you want that Jake. Lacey--She seems to really like you. I wouldn't want--" I shook my head.

"Lacey's not—“ He shook his head. “Lacey doesn’t have your lips” he breathed his fingers coming and brushing over my mouth. I just looked up at him.

“Or your smile.” He whispered, his finger coming under my chin. I opened my mouth and then closed it. "Jake-" I breathed swallowing. He sighed and looked off, before dropping his hand.

“Okay sorry” He breathed. “I got carried away” He shook his head.

"Please, tell me more about the cells, I'm interested" He smiled before moving next to me and laying on the pillow next to mine. I just looked at him feeling the chills run up my body.

"They...um" I cleared my throat as he looked at me. Staring directly at me.

"They--" I took in a breath, and then his lips were on mine.

My eyes widened as he moved his lips against mine, before I closed them and leaned into the kiss. His hands found my waist before he rolled over on top of me, one hand on my waist, the other under my chin.

Oh my god, I was kissing a boy.

As our lips moved together, he moved his hand against my sides. He bit down on my bottom lip before he slipped his tonuge into my mouth. Weird fucking feeling.

Panic sprung throughout me.

I pulled back. Jake opened his eyes as he hovered over me. I stared up at him.

"Too fast?" He breathed, brushing hair out of my face. I attempted to catch my breath from the lack of air. I swallowed.

"No I--" I shook my head terrified to mess this up. "I just wasn't expecting any of this" I shook my head.

“Yeah? What’d you expect?” He smiled before his lips connected with the side of my face. I stared up at the ceiling.

He kissed right under my jaw.

"I thought we would--that we were--" his teeth sank down on my neck. "Friends" My voice cracked. He couldn't give me hickeys. He could not give me hickeys. I wouldn't be able to look Matt in the eyes.

Matt? Why the fuck was I worried about what Matt would think right now? The man with the three Porsche and a Jaguar parked in front of his house right now was biting your neck, and you're thinking about Matt.

Well, that and the butterly drawing. All of those books with the details in the spine. I fought back on my mind.

Y/n, fucking focus. It rebuttled.

"You thought we'd be friends?" He breathed against my ear. He pressed his lips right below my ear. "Does this feel like I wanna be friends?" He asked before pressing his lips against mine again, pushing his tounge back into my mouth.

His hand came under my knee as he gripped the back of my thigh as he kissed me harder. I attempted to match him.

This wasn't me. This wasn't me.

"Jake" I pulled from him. He looked down at me before dropping my leg. "What? Whats wrong? Is this not okay?” His hand came to the side of my face. I blinked up at him.

This was okay. A boy was kissing you, y/n. This was okay. I blinked up at him and for a split second I could have sworn his green eyes turned blue, Matt's blue.

"I've gotta go okay?" I whispered down at Matt who laid against the pillow next to mine. He might be asleep, I told myself. I couldn’t see his face. I didn't want to wake him.

He opened one of his blue eyes and peered up at me. He sighed before turning over, pulling the blanket over him, hiding his face from my view. It was almost 6, I had to go to Jake's.

"Don't miss me too much" I chuckled on the other side of him. He didn't react. I swallowed before I slid off his bed and turned off the tv.

"I'll meet you tomorrow, library. 7:30? Before school?" I asked softly as I grabbed his door handle. He didn't move, let alone respond to me. I stood there for a second before looking down at my feet.

"I'll see you tomorrow" I stated and then I left.

“It’s okay” I nodded. He smiled before he pressed his lips back down to mine. I smiled as I kissed him back, running my hands through his hair. He sighed against my mouth as he gripped my waist harder, running his fingers under my shirt.

His hand came back under my leg as he pressed our bodies together and his tongue explored my mouth, and I let it.

-

I could feel his eyes on me. I had my hood up and my head down. He wouldn’t stop looking. I glanced up at him finally. Matt met my eyes before he sighed and looked back down.

“What?” I asked staring at him. I was on edge enough, I didn’t need his staring too.

He let out a hard breath before he leaned over and tightened the strings to my hoodie to conceal my neck and tapped to his own neck. The same place where a mark laid on my own neck. As if to say:

Hide your hickeys better, I can see them.

My face turned red at my attempted to hide what I didn’t want Matt to see, but he already had. Embarrassing washed over me. I stared down at my page. Matt tapped his foot.

“It was my curling iron” I lied. He looked up at me, no emotion on his face. Nothing behind his eyes. He just looked back down at his notebook for a second before he closed it and stood up and walked away, not even glancing back.

I slumped back in my seat tightening my hoodie even further.

-

I went home after that. I didn't chase after him. I simply got up and walked out. I walked home, alone.

I didn't want to face Matt or Jake. Didn't want to look either of them in the eye. I shouldn't have went to school on the first place, so I went home.

I hunched over the mirror as I rubbed my neck, pressed a spoon to it, ice, everything in the book.

Everything just shined more red to my eyes the more I messed with it. Tears brimmed my eyes as I threw the spoon down and it hit the floor.

I couldn't get Matt's face out of my head. The way he looked at me, the way he stared at my neck. Knowing what it was. And I lied to him. And he knew I had.

I swallowed and hunched over the sink.

I reached up wiping the tears from my eyes before walking over to my bed and crawling under the sheets, pulling them under my chin.

I wondered if Matt was wondering where I was right now, if i went home, or if he didn't care—didn't notice my absence. I wondered what Jake was thinking. If he was waiting to talk to me. If it was a one time thing.

As each thought crossed my head, it made me feel more and more like an idiot. Sick to my stomach. Pathetic. I closed my eyes. I felt abandoned. I hated this.

Then a thought hit me and I stood up from my bed and I walked down my steps. A few seconds later I opened the door to see the white cat still perched on my porch. I sighed before bending down and picking it up.

"Hi Sparkle" I whispered as I held her up. She just looked down at me. "If I let you stay can you promise to never leave me?" I whispered. Blank stare. Kind of like Matt’s. I smiled at the kitty, before hugging it to my chest.

I walked up the stairs and to my bed. I crawled under the covers before Sparkle came over to the pillow next to mine, where Matt once sat and closed her eyes. I smiled running my hand behind her ears.

My smiled dropped. Sleep, I just needed....sleep.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Boyfriend!Bangchan x F!Reader TW : slight angst ; short but sweet and fluffy at the end ; Word Count : 1.3k Request : @kurolils : I just want something really really angsty w chan. so just maybe like, he's supper stressed and snaps at the reader and yk something very angsty, but obviously with a fluffy ending A/N : THIS TOOK FOREVER TO GET TO AND I'M SORRY FOR MAKING YOU WAIT BUT I"M WRITING IT NOW!!! HIHIHI!!!

Preparing for a world tour, as exciting as it seems, was probably just as stressful, if not more stressful than working on an album, at least for Chan it was. He had to work on remembering all of the dances for the entire setlist, he had to think of what he’d say to all the STAYS, he had to remember all the lyrics to all the songs. There was so much to do, and it felt like there wasn’t enough time to get it all done. 

The date of his departure for the first international part of the tour was quickly closing in, and of course, management was still against you going with him considering the news hadn’t broken yet that the two of you were dating. That was the hardest part of leaving for tours. He was leaving you behind, and while you were an absolute champ about it on the surface, he could read right through you and tell that you were upset. 

That’s why he tried to spend as much time with you as possible before he had to leave, that’s what he usually did. He wasn’t sure why things felt more stressful than usual this time around, he wasn’t sure why it felt like the clock was working against him this entire time. All he did know was that there was so much to get done, and he didn’t need any distractions, he didn’t need anyone getting in his way. 

“Still working, huh?” You said from the doorway, your hands shoved into the pockets of one of Chans oversized hoodies. He hummed in response, his eyes not even glancing up from the laptop screen as he sat at his desk. His headphones were on, but at least he had one ear uncovered so he could hear you. “I know you have to leave in a couple days… I was just wondering if you wanted to watch a movie with me or something? I really miss you already and… Just wanted to spend some time with you-” 

“Shut up.” Chan mumbled, and your lips quickly pulled into a thin line, your eyes dropping to the ground, both embarrassed and upset from those two simple words. “As if I don’t have enough on my plate, now I’m expected to stop everything I’m doing to coddle you because you’re going to miss me. I mean… good god, Y/N, grow up. I’m not always going to be here, get used to watching movies by yourself. Damn.” He huffed before adjusting his headphones so that both ears were covered. 

You didn’t even know what to say, you didn’t have anything to say anyway, you were trying not to cry, so you kept your head low and turned around, shutting the door behind you as you made your way to the couch. It’s not like you hadn’t seen Chan stressed before, it’s just that most of the time you were the one that would get him out of his funk. Now it seemed like you were the one stressing him out even more. 

The rest of the day went by without any sort of interaction between the two of you. He’d leave the room to go to the bathroom or grab something to eat or drink, and then he’d quickly retreat back to his desk. You spent the evening sitting on the couch watching movies by yourself and scrolling through your phone to try to keep your mind off of what had happened. 

You had made dinner, and not even the smell of a home-cooked meal had pulled him out from the bedroom, so you made enough for yourself before saving the leftovers in the fridge and eating all alone at the table. You made sure to clean it all before heading to the bathroom and washing up before going to bed. You thought that maybe at some point he would come out and apologize or something, but he didn’t. If it weren’t for the sound of keyboard typing and his mouse clicking rapidly it would feel like he wasn’t there at all. 

The bed didn’t feel as empty as most people would assume it would feel, but that’s only because Chan rarely joined you in bed before you dozed off. The only difference is that this time you wondered if he’d join you at all. Would you feel the bed shift with his weight as he finally got under the covers at the crack of dawn or would he opt to sleep on the couch instead? 

Your mind was full of thoughts, some good, some bad, most of them were bad though, and these were the thoughts that filled your subconscious, the thoughts that fueled your dreams tonight. He was getting tired of you. He thought you were annoying. You were a burden to him. All of these negative emotions played out in the most realistic scenarios in your dreams, and they felt so real in fact, that when you woke up, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying. The emotions were overwhelming, that feeling of being unwanted by the only person you wanted was devastating. 

You didn’t know how late it was or how early it was, and you had been sleeping so deeply that you hadn’t even felt Chan come into the room and get into the bed. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He whispered, having not even fallen asleep yet when you jumped up. Your sniffles were quiet, but in the silence of the room they sounded so loud. 

“You don’t love me anymore…” Your whisper was choked out, and the sob that followed was heartbreaking for him to hear. He knew that he had been quite harsh and honestly, rather heartless when he had spoken to you earlier. That’s why he had kept his distance for the remainder of the day. He thought that that was what you’d needed, but he had been horribly wrong. “I’m… I’m annoying… and distracting…” 

“Shh… baby, no…” Chan cooed, sitting up in the bed beside you and wrapping his arm around you to pull you against his side. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier, I was just stressed… I’ve got so much to do and… I shouldn’t take that out on you. It’s not your fault.” He used his other hand to turn on the lamp on the nightstand, and when he did he could see the tears flowing freely down your cheeks. “I’m an asshole, aren’t I?” 

You weakly nodded your head before resting it against his shoulder. “I don’t like watching movies by myself. That’s our thing… It was really lonely without you.” You mumbled, fiddling with the tag that hung off the blanket. “Am I too clingy? Do you want me to leave you alone?” You asked, and your body tensed up just enough for him to notice. You didn’t want to hear the answer, you were scared of it. 

“Of course not! You cling to me just the right amount.” He joked, and he couldn’t help but chuckle when you looked up at him with unamused eyes and a slight pout on your lips. “I love that you always want me around, it makes me feel loved. I don’t ever want you to leave me alone, because I don’t like watching movies by myself either. I’m not mad at you, I never was, and I never could be. So let’s get some sleep, I’ll have Changbin and Ji handle the rest of the setlist for the tour, and we can have a date day, the whole day tomorrow. You get my undivided attention. You deserve it.” His finger slid under your chin to tilt your head up, pressing his lips to yours, just long enough to have you melting against him and your mind clearing of any and every thought. “And just so you know… I already miss you too… And I miss you way more.”

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[webslingingslasher]

I'm dying for there to be a fic where the reader is Stark's daughter and tells Peter that he has to watch her, Peter does it and the more he does it the more they connect the two and end up dating in secret, but one day reader discovers it and then angs to fluff??? Would you do it, i love how you write yes and thank you

*cleaning out my inbox/drafts* this is an old one but i loved it so much mcu peter HAD to make a comeback for this. // a little different than what you asked.

--

you're livid and peter's scared.

your dad had shared a new piece of information in passing but it brought everything crumbling down. peter, your boyfriend, wasn't who you thought he was.

the person you thought was honest and gentle was really just a lying snake. he can wear manipulation well. even now, with wide eyes and a panicked grin you can't picture him hurting you like this. but you can feel it.

'hi, baby.' he knows you're mad, he's trying to approach this calmly.

'you're a fucking liar.' you just brought everything down to a negative level, peter feels his shoulders slump. he doesn't know what he did or how he lied. 'i'm sorry.' whatever he did caused venom to be directed his way and he doesn't like it at all.

'no you're not. you're a filthy, lying scumbag.' he's not trying to invalidate your feelings, but you're being really fucking mean to him and he really doesn't like this treatment from you. he's never been so hurt in his life, the person he loved with everything in him, can't get enough insults out their mouth.

'why are you talking to me like this?' he sounds pitiful and for a moment your heart breaks for him, you know how much you're hurting him right now but he broke your trust.

'my dad told me. i can't believe i fell for your bullshit, or was it all him? you're just some little drone for my daddy?' it was a blur of sarcasm and betrayal, and peter truly has no idea what he's done.

'what did i do? please tell me what i did.' he's pleading, he'd do anything to make it right. you scoff, everything seems so fake.

'my dad planted you into my life and you wormed your way into being my boyfriend.'

peter freezes, his stiff shoulders are your answer. 'it's true?' your voice cracked, the deception has your insides curling. you thought peter would deny it and kiss you a hundred times and tell you he wasn't that type of guy.

but he is and he did it.

'peter, it's true?' why do you want to cry? you were the one that was swindled. it hurts because you trusted him, it hurts because you thought he loved you just as much as you did him.

there's a new feeling, it's rage. you shared so much of yourself with him for nothing, you wasted time on him. you move on your own accord and you push your weight into his shoulders, trying to throw him back, it's useless. he doesn't even budge, but he still lets you try with everything in you.

'you're piece of shit! i... i fucking hate you!' the word has tears pricking your eyes. peter felt his entire heart shatter, he thinks you just told him the worst thing he's ever heard.

'i fucking loved you, peter. you were my everything. i loved you with everything in me, and it was all built on a giant lie. why would you do that to me?'

loved, loved, loved, loved.

peter goes numb, there's nothing to fight for, you didn't love him anymore. you push on his chest, he feels nothing, he moves with your motion. 'fucking say something!'

he blinks, he says the first thing on his mind. the only thing on his mind. 'i love you.' it enrages you even further, does he think it's a joke? 'fuck you, peter.' and with that, you turn to leave his room, his house, him.

peter might've messed up but he can't let you leave without trying to save this. he knows he fucked up. 'wait! don't leave yet, just let me explain it, okay? then you can go back to hating me.' the ending sentence felt like battery acid on his tongue.

you stand still. you’ve been hurt by him but you still love him no matter what you say, and that feels like a kick in the chest to yourself. if he can, you'll let him try and dig himself out of this hole.

'this, what we have, it's real. everything i did as your boyfriend was real. i love you with everything in me, you know i do.' you don't look like you believe it, it looks like you think he's just telling you what you want to hear.

'your dad...' peter doesn't know how he got here, he didn't expect it all to come out. 'look, i've always liked you, okay? you know that, we've talked about how when i first met you i was head over heels for you. your dad knew that too and he hated it. but then you were all sad about your friend so he suggested i just... befriend you.'

'suggested or told?' peter swallows hard, this is tricky even for him. 'i don't know. i just had the opportunity to talk to you and i took it. all your dad did was give me an in, that's it. everything else was all me, i promise.'

you sigh heavily, it sounds like something your dad would do. 'then why wouldn't you tell me this when we started dating?' peter gestures to you and all your fury. 'i didn't want this to happen. i didn't want you to doubt me. us. i didn't want you to doubt us.'

'so he told you to be my friend. nothing else?' peter winces, there's more to it and you're not sure if you want to hear it. 'okay, maybe he said to keep an eye out for you.' your face drops, peter's quick to keep talking. 'but i heard that as befriend! how could i keep you safe if we're not friends, right?'

it's not working, you seem more sad than mad now and peter prefers your anger. 'and when he saw how happy you were with me it changed and he gave me the go ahead to ask you out.' you'll bite your tongue on that one, you know it's because peter's a stickler for a father's blessing.

'when did he back out of the picture, peter?' the question un-eases him, and you have a feeling you know why. you pray it's not what you think, but it is.

'a couple months into dating.' peter jumps to continue, 'he never told me to date you, he just said it was a good thing and he was happy i was keeping you busy and making you happy. he gave me a little money for dates, but that's it, i swear.'

peter was taking money from him?

'so, while i was falling in love with you, my dad was paying you off? nice, peter. that's a real nice guy act.'

peter knows how it sounds, that's why he felt like he couldn't spit it out. the more time went on, the less he felt the need to share. 'that's not what it was, all he wanted was for me to be your friend, i promise. i'm the one that went a step further, i'm the one that wanted to be your boyfriend.'

you roll your eyes, how dumb does he think you are? 'of course you wanted to be my boyfriend, you were getting paid.' you couldn't be further from the truth, peter felt bad taking his money but it was to keep you happy and that's all he ever wanted to do.

he's failing pretty hard right now.

'no, that's not what it was. i was the one that planned everything, everything we built was because of me.'

'right. and he was just sponsoring it?'

peter's never fought harder for anything in his life. you were on the line. 'he pulled out when it started to get real. he said it was on me to take care of you and i did. i have been. i'm not lying, your dad might have put you into my life but every single part of me loving you was real and all me.'

you want to believe him. you want him to be telling the truth. and maybe if it all started because your dad wanted him to look out for you, you could look past it. but for him to double down and start taking money when you were calling him boyfriend makes you feel sick.

peter knows it's not working. 'baby, please-' you cut him off, 'don't you dare call me that, we're done. it's over. hope it was worth it.'

panic fills him, he suddenly feels hot. for a second peter sees black dots, he swears he's about to pass out. 'no, no, no. don't do this, don't do this to me.'

how did peter go from trying to salvage it to ruining it beyond repair?

your arms cross over your chest, it's a way to guard your hurting heart. it's not fair. you gave him so much of yourself just to learn it was all built on a lie, you can't choose between breaking out into a sob or wanting to punch his face.

'i really loved you, peter.'

'you still do. i know you do. you can't just stop loving me out of nowhere. i know i hurt you and i know i broke your trust but you can't stop loving me.'

you feel empty inside. peter was right, he hurt you. he hurt you big time. 'i'm going to try.' you can see how wet his eyes are, if he drops a single tear you'll go back on every word of yours. you have to leave and stand up for yourself because if you don't it'll be proof that he can treat you however he wants.

'please don't do this. i'll do anything, i'll... i'll...' he's drawing blanks, for the first time ever peter doesn't know how to fix anything. 'please don't leave me. i'll be better, i'll be who you need. i love you so much, please don't do this to me.' peter's grasping at straws and you feel your chest rattle when you tell him you're leaving.

peter drops to his knees, he's begging. 'i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry. i should've told you when we first started dating- no! i should've never done it, i should've told your dad to... to fuck off and, and, i'm so sorry! please don't break up with me, please.'

you've lost all edge, you feel just as broken.

'goodbye, peter.'

----

it's been three days of reckoning and you're in a terrible mood. the blame has shifted, after you dumped peter and returned home to your bed you thought long and hard about it and realized that peter would've never done it if your dad didn't get involved.

if your dad didn't drop peter in as an informant, you wouldn't be here. if your dad didn't tell peter to buddy up with you, he'd still be your boyfriend.

you don't hate peter anymore, you're just sad. instead, you hate your dad. you hate how he ruined everything you had and ruined all your trust in him. you've refused to speak to him for three days, this morning he had enough of it when you slammed your door in his face.

he promptly allowed himself in and looked around your disheveled room, he knows something's wrong. 'woah. easy on, teen angst. talk to your dad, what's going on?'

you pretend he's not in the room with you. 'is something wrong? do you want me to call your boyfriend?' of course he wants peter over, he wants him to spy on you so your dad can corner him and sweat him out until peter spills.

you know how peter is and your dad took advantage of that.

'i broke up with peter. leave me alone.' there's a ring of silence, your dad is in shock. it would explain the sudden excuses on why peter can't come over, it would also explain your sour attitude.

'why would you do that?' because of him. because your dad had to get involved in your love life. 'because of you. you planted him in my life and paid him off to date me. i hate you.'

'is that what he told you?'

you don't know why you're talking to him. 'basically.' your dad sighs and sits on the edge of your bed, you resist the burning urge to kick his back.

'is this about what i said the other day? honey, i didn't ask him to date you and i didn't pay him off. i paid him when he helped me redo the lab. he must've gotten confused on the reasoning.'

you think about it. the lab was renovated right around the time you started dating and was finished right around when you became official. and peter did the brunt of heavy lifting and furniture shifting. he even had to reschedule a date because he was going to stay up all night to wrap up all the cords and label them to keep track.

'and for what it's worth, the kid's always liked you. i saw it on his face the second you shook his hand and i told him absolutely not. but the more i thought about it the more i thought why not?'

you're not saying anything but you're holding on to every word he says. 'i got tired of you moping around the place because of that brat you called a friend so i suggested he keep an eye out for you and be a friend if you needed one. honey, i knew what i was doing. i knew what was going to happen.'

peter left a lot of this out. a lot.

'he said you told him it was his job to take care of me now.' your dad laughs. 'yeah, i did. when he came to me shaking and halfway begging to let him be your boyfriend, i told him that he would have to grow a pair and take care of you.'

your dad turns and gives you a light smile, he pats your leg over the blanket. 'i don't think any part of it was a lie, kiddo. i just gave him the greenlight to do what he wanted to do the second he met you.'

tears sting your eyes, you think about how crushed peter looked. you imagine the tear in his heart was far greater than yours. you heard something and made your own assumption and peter can't back himself to save his life so you walked away from it entirely.

you were so mean to him. you belittled him and did the worst possible thing you could do. you told him you hated him. you blink fast to clear your eyes, tears start falling instead. you've been so mad you haven't been able to process what you did but it's hitting now and you feel broken.

'i told him i hated him. i've never said that to him, he was so sad. i was so mean to him, dad. i was calling him names and...' your breath catches, you feel like your throat’s closing up. 'i think i broke his heart.'

you curl up, you want to be left alone, you want to punish yourself. instead your dad tells you to 'get your sorry ass up and go apologize to your boyfriend.' it's a very short pity party.

---

you rushed his front door. you felt like the longer you waited the closer your window closed. you stupidly blocked his number so now you're unaware if he's tried to reach out at all. you're knocking so hard your knuckles hurt.

'oh my good-' you push past may. it's incredibly rude and you'll have to add her to your apology train but the first and most important stop is peter.

'where's-'

peter steps out from his room, he looks at you cautiously and doesn't get halfway through your name before you're running to him and wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself against him. it's a full bodied hug.

'i'm so sorry and i love you. i love you so so much, i love everything about you. i love your voice in the morning, i love how you always give me an extra kiss at night to repel bed bug bites, i love how you never give me shit when i don't bring a jacket to the movies even though i'm gonna steal yours because i always get cold. i love how you always make me a bowl of cereal after we-'

'may.'

'-watch a movie. i love how you grew your hair out because i asked you. i love how you always ask to kiss me first. i love how you love me.' you squeeze him tighter.

'i told you i hated you and that couldn't be further from the truth. i love you so much and i was so mean to you and i just don't want you to think i hate you. i could never hate you, peter. i should've never said that, i can love you and be mad at you at the same time.'

peter quietly shushes you, it settles the bubble of anxiety in your chest. he's calming you down, he's doing what he always does when you're inches away from a panic attack. peter gently pulls at your hands around his neck to move them to his waist, it's instantly more comfortable, you're able to bury yourself into him.

'i don't want to be broken up anymore.' your voice cracks, you don't know what you'll do if he says no. you're spiraling, the consequences of your actions are falling into place. you're going to lose him.

peter pulls you back into reality. he always knows when you're too far gone, you can't imagine life without him anymore. 'calm down for a second, okay? i'm not going anywhere. i'm right here.' he turns his head back to his room, may's doing that thing where she pretends she doesn't see or hear what's going on but she's actually holding on to every word.

'wanna go lay down?' you nod fast and pull away to tug him into his own room, peter swears he sees a frown on his aunt's face. the second he shuts his door you start in on round two, you stop when he cups your face and softly shushes you again.

'please stop panicking.'

'i'll panic until you take me back. i should've never broken up with you, peter. i was yelling at my dad and then he told me what actually happened and we were both wrong and now you hate me.'

peter's eyes are shining, he's getting a little amusement from your distress and you allow it. it's the least you could give him after breaking him down into nothing.

'i told you to stop blocking me when you get mad at me.' you want to hit yourself in the face, you knew you missed out on something. 'never again, i promise. i can't do this again, peter. if i'm about to have a panic attack over something that's a non-issue i'll hate myself forever.'

'you really want to hate someone, don't you?' you seal your mouth closed. he's right, you've been saying it too much. even if he said it with a tilt in his voice you take it seriously.

'since someone is a little reactionary, i'll show you my phone.' peter paws at his back pocket before you have his phone in your hands, sure enough there's five missed messages.

the first one was an hour after you dumped him.

'upon further consideration, i reject our break up. you promised me that you'd never break up with me in the heat of an argument. not after the charity auction thing.'

'therefore, we are not broken up until you come over and do it at a later time.'

'love- your boyfriend <3'

'ps. even though you blocked me, i know you don't hate me.'

'you're just mad and you're soooo gonna regret that later.'

peter's right, you do regret it. your eyes are glossy when you reread the texts over and over, even at your worst he loves you. 'so, you're still my boyfriend?'

soft pokes are placed at your sides, you squirm with his touch. 'duh. i just stayed away until you figured it out.' you pout at him, your attack deemed unjustified.

'he wasn't paying you to take me on dates. he was paying you for renovating the lab. that's why the payments stopped after we started dating.'

peter never took money from your dad and your dad never employed peter. he nods slowly. 'oh, yeah, that would make a lot of sense.' you reach forward for another hug and speak into his chest.

'i'm sorry for being mean and trying to break up with you.'

'it's okay, baby.' you melt at a kiss on your hairline. 'you didn't mean it.'

'i promise i didn't.' you feel like a dog with a tail between their legs, there's not enough ways to say how sorry you are. 'i love you, petey.'

another kiss. 'i love you, too.'

he feels so warm, he feels like home. for the first time in three days you feel comfortable, you press into your boyfriend and he doesn't budge. you love how sturdy he is, you love how you can nearly hurt him with your love.

you squeeze him hard, using all your force and almost shaking you're holding him to you so tightly. when you start limiting his breathing, peter pushes down on your elbows.

'you're about to cuteness aggression me to death.'

'i love you.' you can't say it enough.

peter laughs, 'i love you.'

'no,' you peer up at him, it's been days since you kissed him. 'i really love you.' it's whispered, peter's lips twitch at your blown pupils. you almost purr when he cups your face. 'i know you do.'

peter knows that look. he's the one that created it. 'do you want me to-'

'yes.' you waste no time, pushing up and attacking his mouth with your own. you don't know why it's so harsh, you don't know why you're desperate to swallow him and show him how much you missed him, how much you need him. you want to prove how sorry you are.

'lock your door.' peter's eyes sparkle, that means one thing. he takes off so fast his socks slip on his floor and he catches himself on the wall, his lock flicked in seconds.

peter tugs at the back of his shirt, 'naked kisses?' you bite your lip and nod, 'i could go for a bowl of cereal.' 

[halfvalid]

the blade daughter, pt. 3

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 7.3k this part

description: you finally soothe the uncertainty you've had surrounding going out and making a life of your own. somewhere inside, you find the bravery to finally tell zoro how you'd feel about him.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, slow burn, kissing, confessions, a lil suggestive at the end

author’s note: ANDDDD SHE'S DONE!!! this was a wild 8 day long ride of writing, i'm a bit uncertain about the ending so please tell me what you thought of it!! hopefully you liked the fic, thank u so so much for reading.

The two of you emerged from the room a little while later. You’d finished cleaning up, and Zoro had kept you company as you cleaned both his swords and Hiru. The both of you walked together afterwards, wandering into the kitchen where Sanji had whipped up a meal. 

“We’re close to the Grand Line,” Nami reported, having apparently steered the ship far enough away from the other pirates to leave the helm alone. “Should reach the mountain by early morning.” She glanced over at you. “Kuraigana Island first, right?” 

“Yeah,” you affirmed. “The Grand Line is… screwed, though.”

“We’ll be fine,” Luffy said brightly. You just shrugged, taking a seat at the table. “Zoro! Did you get everything cleaned up?” Zoro had changed into a fresh shirt, one not so bloodstained, and he gave a curt nod. “Good. Come and eat so we can get ready for tomorrow?” 

Sanji passed you a bowl, and you let out a thin breath. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered how and when this had become your norm—it’d been a week with the Straw Hats, now, and— 

You dropped your chopsticks in your hand. It’d been a week. “Fuck,” you said, the word dropping out from between your lips before you could stop them. Your entire body had gone rigid, pink flushing up your arms and face as something burned deep inside of you. 

Everyone’s heads had snapped up to look at you, matching concerned expressions on all of their faces. “I, um—” you said, scrambling up from your seat, words too big in your mouth. You opted not to finish them, dropping your sentence as you yanked your shell phone out of your jacket pocket. “Sorry, I—” 

You shook your head, hurrying out of the kitchen. The cold gust of the ocean breeze hit heavy on your face, and you let out a breath, the gust of air exhaling out of your chest in a rush. You heard footsteps behind you, but the panic hadn’t bled out of your veins entirely, and your hands shook as you tried to open your phone. 

Zoro’s hand was pressed over yours before you could snap the case open. You stared down at it, and your gaze lifted, the tremble of your hands subsiding as his warm grasp sunk deep into your skin. “What’s up?” he asked, low and steady. 

“I, um—” you swallowed hard, hitching breath soothing at his touch. “Um. It’s—I have to call my dad.” 

Zoro was serene, tone even and still. His words from before echoed around in your head, the proclamation of not having patience. It’d been untrue after all. “Did something happen?” 

“I’m supposed to have dinner with him,” you blurted. “Tonight. I’ve never missed it before. Because I’ve always been on the island, in our—I’ve never missed it before. I’ve been with you all for too long.” 

“I’m sure he’d understand,” Zoro said, though his hand didn’t fall from yours. He paused, lips parted as his eyes ran along your face. “Or is it something you’re upset about?” 

“I don’t have friends,” you whispered, words fierce. “I don’t go places. I stay at home. This life isn’t mine. It’s—” 

“I don’t think you should dictate what you do based on what your father does,” Zoro interrupted. His tone wasn’t harsh, exactly—but it was strong, tone firm, jaw set as he spoke. “So you miss one dinner. So you’re out and about for longer than a week. Does it matter?” 

Does it matter? Your heart pounded in your chest, and you took in a steady breath, trying to soothe the adrenaline that still pulsed in your veins even now. “I don’t… I’m not used to this,” you admitted, somehow managing to keep the contact of your eyes even as your brain screamed at you to look away. “I’m not used to being away from home.” 

“Everyone starts somewhere,” Zoro said. 

You hesitated. His hand moved carefully away from yours, nudging your fingers to open the phone. Your gaze dropped, staring at the little snail waiting for you inside, nestled in his little bed of velvet. You picked it up, tucking it into your ear as your shaking hands dialed Mihawk’s number. 

He answered on the first ring. “Hello there, darling,” he said, and you closed your eyes, a soft exhale leaving your lungs at his voice. “Are you calling me about dinner? I’ll be there in a few hours, I promise. Just finishing up over here.” 

“No, actually, um—” you cut yourself off, teeth coming down to halt your tongue. You opened your eyes, turning to glance tentatively over at Zoro. Does it matter? he had asked. Which… it did, right? You weren’t a part of the Straw Hats. You hadn’t joined their crew; you’d been insistent on that, pushing away any idea of a life out at sea in exchange for the comfort and familiarity of your home lifestyle. But you’d been making bonds with them despite, and helping them out with their ship, and fighting alongside them in battle. And you’d just patched up Zoro’s wounds a mere hour earlier. You didn’t make friends.

But you were making them. 

“I’m not going to dinner this week,” you said, the words all slurred as they spilled from your mouth. There was a pause of surprise on Mihawk’s line before he spoke again. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling Zoro’s gaze on you. 

“Finally departed from the nest, have you, darling?” Mihawk said. His voice was soft—tender, almost. “Very well, then. Any idea when you’ll be on the island next, or shall we keep it a suspended date?” 

“I should be home in a few days,” you said, voice hitching in your breath. “I’ll—I’ll call you! I don’t know what I’m going to do afterwards, but I’ll—I’m not going to just disappear.” 

“Well, of course,” Mihawk said simply. You tightened the squeeze of your eyes, trying to suppress the tingling prickles at your waterline. “I’m glad you’re making friends, dear.” 

You made a face, letting out a breathy scoff. A defense mechanism, really. “Don’t get mushy on me, old man.” 

“Me? Mushy?” There was a staticky scoff crackling over from Mihawk’s side of the line. It was such a simple conversation, so—why was it driving you to tears? “I could never, darling, do you even know me? I’ve got to fly, anyway—there’s some pesky pirates around here I’ve got to deal with.” 

“Bye, dad,” you said, the words choking up your throat, all raggedy at the edges, too big as you shoved them up and through your mouth. They grazed your tongue, but the points weren’t edges; they didn’t draw blood. “I—um.” 

The Dracules did not say I love you. Your father was doting, certainly, but he expressed his affection in far more unspoken ways. Presents from all four Blues. A weapon of the highest caliber quality when you were thirteen. Personal lessons in sword fighting. The murder of anyone who dared send an off look in your direction. 

“Me too, little hawk,” Mihawk said simply. “Now go have fun.” 

The den den mushi let out a soft little croak, signaling that Mihawk had hung up. You let your hand fall, the fingers holding the case of your phone going slack. Air punctured your lungs as you inhaled, the salty, crisp breeze loosening your muscles with every breath. 

“Are you alright?” Zoro asked. The words were gruff, awkward. Like he wasn’t used to saying them. You tightened your grip on your case, and then tugged the snail out of your ear, setting it carefully back where it belonged. You met Zoro’s gaze, heart thudding a bit faster as you saw flickers of concern in his eyes. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I think I am.” 

The sun shone bright on your face, the weather of the Grand Line being more forgiving today as the ship sailed carefully through the ocean. Your route was still towards Kuraigana Island, although you were growing more split about it by the second. You’d just had a conversation with Mihawk a day or so ago about you not being at the house—and the fact that you’d have to choose whether to go home and potentially never see the Straw Hats again was a decision that gripped heavy at your heart. 

“Looks like you’ve got a lot on your mind.” You glanced up to see Zoro at your side, forearms propping at the Going Merry’s railing as he gazed out at the ocean. You shrugged, eyes flickering down his side profile before falling back to your hands. 

“I don’t know,” you said. “Just thinking about what to do, I guess.” 

Zoro fixed you with a look. “You should try not doing that.” 

A startled laugh escaped your throat. “What? Thinking?” 

“It gets old,” Zoro said with a firm nod, brow slightly creased to shield his eyes from the sun. “I’d recommend dropping it for at least a few hours. You’re getting wrinkles.” One of his hands moved upwards to nudge against your forehead, and you ducked, another laugh gracing the edges of your lips. 

“Right,” you said, dubious. “How are your wounds?” 

“I’ve taken worse,” Zoro said with a shrug. “Though I guess I’ve still got that one, huh.” He grimaced, lips tugging back to bare his teeth into a scowl. It took him a while to speak again, and you turned your gaze back towards the ocean, waiting for the unspoken words to leave his lips. Minutes ticked by, but you just basked in the sun, trying to air your mind of any thoughts. Maybe Zoro had a point, there—sometimes it really wasn’t necessary to think at all. 

When Zoro finally spoke, his words were quiet; muttered under his breath. You had to strain to hear them, as the thin ocean breeze swallowed them up almost immediately. “I really thought I could beat him.” 

You huffed out a breath, unsure of what to say. Unsure if Zoro even wanted you to say anything. Your grip on the boat’s railing tightening, palm running across the soft wood. You found words falling out of your mouth anyway, though, although you yourself were surprised by them—“You can.” 

Zoro glanced up at you, surprised. “Maybe not now,” you hastened to say, not wanting to add to his clearly already-inflated ego. “But you’re good. You’re good enough to beat him, eventually. In a few years, given the proper time and training. I think…” You swallowed down the phlegm in your throat, alarmed by how wet your voice was starting to sound. You took in a breath, steadying your tone, making certain your voice wasn’t quite so thin or reedy. “I think that’s what scares me about you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Zoro said, all low and hushed. You just shrugged. 

“I don’t mind,” you answered. You felt his eyes on you, burning like a sun on fire, like the stars dotting his skin were crisping over your skin, charred and burnt and broken. Or maybe it wasn’t quite so destructive. Maybe it was a tender fire, crowning a pile of wood and cared for with iron stakes, embers glowing deep in the night to keep warmth fueling a pot of soup, or healing ragged hands after a long battle. 

“Let me get you a drink.”

Zoro disappeared. He returned with a flask, handing it over to you after unscrewing its cap. You knocked it back—it was rich but bland, all dry and earthy. Sake. You’d pegged him more as a beer guy. “Thanks.” 

Zoro’s gaze didn’t move from your figure. It was warm, you decided then. The swordsman was vicious at times, relentless in his fight, sinewy figure slashing cuts into flesh as he sparred with his enemies. But there was a distinction behind the hot, heavy iron of those glares at the look at which he placed upon you now. You couldn’t go as far to say his eyes were tender, or soft. But they were warm. Fire was a calamitous thing, but it had its blessings. 

“Let me take you out,” Zoro said suddenly. Your entire body froze, murmurs of warmth and tingling buzzes pricking up and down your spine. Something inside you lurched—no, it didn’t lurch, didn’t have the unpleasant sensation associated with it. It was softer, burning, guttural. Like a sharp knife cutting straight through your abdomen, sliding into your stomach, prying apart the bones like they were putty. Your chest squeezed inwards, heart pulsating with soft pangs of something. Hunger; desire, maybe. Yearning. 

“Why?” you asked. Zoro just shrugged, effortlessly casual in his movements. You saw a hitch in his throat, a flicker of something in his eyes, a strain in his jaw. Not so effortless after all. “Actually, more importantly—where?” 

“I’ll figure something out,” Zoro answered. “Is that a yes?” 

You turned, glancing up at him tentatively. “I’m not used to this sort of thing,” you said carefully. Zoro just shrugged. He still looked effortless, all guarded, but you could see the tremors and quivers underneath. 

“Neither am I.” 

You pursed your lips, raising your face to let the sun glow down onto your skin. “I have a rule, though,” you said, voice lifting up, more of a tease now. There was a ghost of a smile at the edge of your words, although your mouth wasn’t shaped in one. It was hesitant, careful not to scare you, really; creeping on you inch by inch. “I can’t go out with men who haven’t beaten me in combat.” 

Zoro snorted. “I have beaten you,” he said. “But if you want a rematch—” 

“Let’s not strain your injuries too much.” Zoro let out a scoff, but it was light-hearted, laced with amusement. You just shook your head, the dawning smile at the edges of your lips now, tugging them softly upwards. “I accept a loss when I get served one. You beat me, fair and square.”

“So I get to take you out now,” Zoro murmured, words careful, hovering in the air just barely out of his lips. He turned towards you, the sun outlining his face with a soft glow of gold and orange. He didn’t smile, but there was that soft, burning look again, lips slightly parted, taking in air. “That’s the rule, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “It is.” 

“Tonight, then,” Zoro said. “Ten. Aftercastle.” 

You spent some time contemplating what to wear. You hadn’t brought a very expansive wardrobe along with you, only the essentials, so there wasn’t much to choose from—just some shirts and pants, no dresses or skirts in the bare bones of your luggage. You eventually picked out your favorite of the grouping, sliding your signature jacket on like usual, Hiru fastened securely in its scabbard at the back. 

Zoro was waiting at the afterdeck when you arrived, dressed in a dark wrap shirt and his usual green obi. The cloth was nicer, though: his pants were missing their usual wear and tear, and his shirt looked to be made of finer cotton. “Hi,” you said, slipping up next to him. The tangerine tree’s leaves brushed at your ear, and you glanced up at it. The fruit was ripe, round and as bright orange as Nami’s hair. 

“Hey,” Zoro replied. One of his forearms was propped against the afterdeck railing, and the other wrapped around the side. You put your hand beside his, pinky just inches away from his. “Do you know any constellations?” 

“Some,” you said, squinting up at the sky. You could point a few of them out, but not many—the sky was cloudy tonight, most of the stars blocked out by dull puffs of gray and blue. “You?” 

“No,” Zoro answered. “Was never really interested in that kind of thing.” He glanced over at you. You’d turned your attention on the trees, again, plucking one of the tangerines off the branches. The tree trembled, its leaves quivering with soft swaying motions. You dug your nails into the flesh, peeling it carefully. “Why’d you just stay home?” 

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug. “My dad used to not let me leave. He stayed with me until I was maybe twelve, for the most part. Then he started going out more, but he didn’t want me to come. Something about it being dangerous. He dropped the ban when I was sixteen, but…” you hesitated, tucking the shredded pieces of tangerine peels in your pocket. “I just kind of stuck with it, I guess.” 

“Weren’t you lonely?” 

“Kind of.” You broke the orange in half, moving on to pick at the pith with your fingernails. You gathered that up, too, little white lines piling up in the crease of your palm. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“He always wanted me to leave, I think,” you said. “To find my own life. I was always happy staying there with him, though. Or waiting for him.” 

“You wouldn’t be abandoning him by leaving,” Zoro said. 

“Logically, I know that.” You peeled a piece of orange off from a half, offering it to Zoro. He took it, carefully pushing it between his teeth. He broke skin, a burst of piquant citrus juice dripping on his lower lip. Your eyes lingered there a moment too long, but you looked away a second later, speaking again. “I think it’s just a habit, really. I worry.” 

“I mean, he’s a Warlord of the Sea. I think he can take care of himself.” 

“It’s not that I’m worried about,” you said with a sigh. You popped a slice of orange in your mouth, sucking at the tart juice. “I don’t want him to get lonely.” 

“That’s not really your responsibility,” Zoro answered. His pinky crept closer to your hand, from where you’d returned your grip on the railing. His touch was feather-light, a soft breath of skin against skin that was there and gone again within a moment. “Did you think any more about it?” 

“I didn’t,” you said. “Took a page out of your book.” 

“It’ll come to you eventually,” Zoro said. “Like that one Shanks guy said—actually, I don’t remember the quote. Ask Luffy about it in the morning. He’ll probably go on for a few hours.” 

You snorted. “You’re kind of bad at giving advice, Zoro.” The name came easily, and you stopped, feeling the syllables on your teeth. It was comforting. Natural. 

Zoro seemed a tad bit offended by that. “At least I’m trying,” he muttered, voice defensive but not hostile. “Onto lighter topics?” 

You popped another tangerine slice in your mouth. “Like what?” 

“Nothing light about my life, so I’ve got no idea.” You snorted, choking on the orange that’d made its way halfway down the passage of your throat. You coughed, shaky laughs escaping your lips as you cleared your airways. An amused smile had perched on Zoro’s face, eyes glimmering with warmth as he watched you.

“That was unnecessarily edgy,” you protested. You finished with your tangerine, letting the pith flutter out of your palm, some of the white floss sticking. You didn’t mind it. 

“Got a laugh out of you, didn’t it?” Zoro nudged you, the skin of his finger pressing fully against your pinky. This time, he didn’t move away, letting the warmth of his skin bleed into yours. 

“You never answered my question.” You raised your pinky, lifting it to brush against Zoro’s knuckle. Carefully, you slipped it into the gap of his interdigit, looping your fingers together so they were intertwined. Zoro exhaled shakily—you glimpsed his other arm moving away from the railing, lowering to his side. “Why you wanted me out here, I mean.” 

Zoro pulled up a flask, unscrewing the cap with one hand. He didn’t drink, though, just held the bottle suspended in his hand. He didn’t say anything for a while, letting the soft rush of water from below and the tranquil rocking of the boat fill the silence. For a moment you thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all. To your surprise, though, he raised the flask to his lips, taking a short sip before letting his hand fall again. “You feel different.” 

“Care to be a little less vague?” 

“I don’t know if I can,” Zoro said carefully. His guard was up, that much was sure. You didn’t exactly blame him. “Things have changed since I joined Luffy. Sometimes I can’t describe it.” 

“The crew,” you said. “It makes sense.” 

“It does,” Zoro agreed. There was something magnetic about it, about him—something that drew you in. But you weren’t afraid of it, really. The Straw Hats weren’t scary. Their bared teeth weren’t fangs; their canines remained unsharpened at their maw. Their lure was more peaceful than that. “We like you. You fit in.” He paused, mouth slightly ajar, a tremor of something on his lower lip. “I like you.” 

Your lungs were empty, devoid of air. Something in your chest clawed at you, trying to climb up your throat, compressing your organs. Zoro’s touch burned into you, interlocked fingers searching an imprint in your skin. You were certain you’d feel it for hours; days; months; years after. “I think I like you too,” you said. 

“Well, you like my earrings,” Zoro said easily. “That’s a start.” 

You turned towards him, at his open stance, tucking yourself in the space between his figure at the side of the ship. The motion forced Zoro to raise your hands away from the railing, but he slid with the action easily, fingers fully interlacing with yours. His other arm remained propped along the ship, flask in his fingers, the skin of his forearm brushing against your side. Your free hand raised up to skim along his earrings, dull clinks of the metal sounding out at the emotion. “I do like your earrings.” 

“Enough to let me kiss you?” 

You tugged gently at Zoro’s earlobe, angling your face up to meet his. “Yeah.” 

Zoro kissed you square on the mouth, mouth full and open, hand slipping around your back. The edge of his sake flask dug into your spine, but it wasn’t a sharp pain, and you didn’t mind it. Your fingers tightened against Zoro’s, chasing his lips with yours, letting him swallow you whole. He was patient with it, smooth and languid; tongue licking into the crevices of your mouth, firm as he mouthed kisses at the lines of your lips. 

You breathed in from his lungs, chest getting tight as he sucked the air clean out of you. Still, you were addicted, utterly devoted as his fingers nudged against your hand and his tongue skimmed along your mouth. He was a good kisser, effortless and smooth, nearly elegant with his motions. He tasted like sake; earthy, woodsy, reminiscent of some sort of mushroom, maybe. It suited him well. 

You let out a little whimper as Zoro’s tongue pressed deep to your throat, and he swallowed it up, flicking lazily along the roof of your mouth. You were getting short of breath, though, so you placed a gentle litany of faint kisses along his mouth before tilting your head back and letting the night air puncture your lungs. Zoro’s pupils had gone wide, deep black swallowing the walnut of his irises. His hand pulsed against yours, steady as ever, but he didn’t speak.

“I like more than your jewelry,” you said, staring down at where your fingers tangled with his. They looked like two pieces of a puzzle, extremities manipulated to slot along each other, palms molded together. “I like the way you move, and the way you fight. I like your face.” You hesitated, playing with Zoro’s fingertips to distract you from your words. 

“You don’t have to say it,” Zoro said. 

“No, I think I do.” A ghost of a smile flickered up your mouth; a corpse, really, one that had forgotten it wasn’t really dead after all. “I like you, Roronoa Zoro.” 

Zoro’s fingers squeezed tighter against yours. There was no click, no noise of finality, no settlement of a suspended thread. You supposed it didn’t work like that. Life didn’t stop and end. You went on. You’d see Zoro in the morning, again, after you’d gone to sleep, and things would continue like normal. “Okay,” he said. “Late enough for you to go to bed, yet?” 

“I could go either way,” you answered. “Staying out here wouldn’t be so bad either.” 

“Fine by me,” Zoro said, not moving from where he stood. “So, Lady Dracule. Where to next?” 

“Wherever the breeze takes me,” you answered, but there was a decision settling down in your chest. One you weren’t so afraid to look at anymore. 

Kuraigana Island was just as you’d left it, sky dark as night even in the middle of the day, rotted ground crunching dust and rocks underneath your feet. The Going Merry had docked in one of the number of homemade boat berths Mihawk had made sometime in your youth. 

Usopp let out a low whistle as the Straw Hats stepped onto the island, head practically turning around in a 180 degree spin as he craned his neck to look around. “You live here?” 

“It’s quaint,” you said defensively. 

Nami gave you a sympathetic look. “It really isn’t.”

“Why is the sky black?” Luffy murmured in amazement, casting his gaze upwards to the overhang of rumbling clouds that existed perpetually over the island. “Have you never seen sun in your life?” 

You rolled your eyes, leading them through the gravelly path up to your house. Their reactions were, well, nothing short of the expected—Sanji’s eyebrows lifted, and Zoro let out a low whistle as he took in the sight. 

“It’s like Kaya’s house,” Usopp breathed. “But… bigger. And more spiky!” 

“It needs a paint job,” Nami deadpanned. You snorted. 

“I’ve been trying to get him to renovate for forever. Good luck.” You cleared your throat, suddenly awkward as the group walked closer and closer to the house. Your footsteps slowed, until you came to a full stop a few meters off the front door. The Straw Hats grouped around you, curious. “Just… don’t be weird, please. Nami, don’t steal anything unless it looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in thirty years. I only bother to polish the important stuff.” 

“Is that an open invitation to rob your house?” Nami asked with a snort.

“Do you have any food?” Luffy asked. 

“Probably not. My dad can’t cook for shit. Sanji can make something,” you said. “Our kitchen’s kinda nice.” 

“Working in a Warlord’s kitchen? I’d be honored,” Sanji said, with a little flourish of his hand. You rolled your eyes, but Luffy at least seemed satisfied. You glanced over at Zoro, who was the only one of the group who hadn’t said anything up to now—his lips were set into a thin line, but he met your gaze, and they flickered upwards just a quarter of an inch. The action was reassuring, almost, and you were soothed enough to start walking again.

The door flung open before you reached it, although the sudden motion didn’t startle you like it did to your compatriots. Dracule Mihawk stood in the doorway, dressed in his usual hat and jacket, Yoru heavy off his shoulders like usual. “I thought I heard footsteps,” your father trilled, voice wonderfully monotone as he bent in front of you, taking your hand to press a gentle kiss upon your knuckles. “Have you brought your friends along, darling?” 

“Clearly,” you said with a soft laugh. It was like all the tension evaporated from your body as soon as your father got near, and you found his hand, giving it a tight squeeze before turning to your friends. “Do you need introductions, or do you know them all already?” 

“I only remember the future pirate king and the swordsman,” Mihawk said with a dismissive wave. “Oh, and Yasopp’s child. It’s no matter, really. Well, come on in, you’re letting in the cold air.” 

Usopp stuttered something incomprehensible about his father, but Mihawk had already disappeared. You glanced over your shoulder at the rest of the Straw Hats. “He’s like that,” you said apologetically. “Just… come in.”

They followed you into the house, glancing around the lobby to take in the decor. You had to admit, a lot of it was rather gaudy, but it wasn’t like Mihawk cared much about what adorned the walls, and you had little resources to work with. Sanji made quick work moving to the kitchen after you made sure that Mihawk hadn’t prepared dinner. 

“So,” Nami said, the words mulling around in her mouth as she lounged by the kitchen island. “Nice place.” 

“It’s kinda scary-looking,” Luffy said honestly. “Interesting choice of decoration. I guess if you like it, though.” 

“Are you okay on your own for a moment?” you asked, getting up from your seat. “I’m going to go talk to my dad.” Luffy nodded, and the others all hummed their assent. Zoro caught your gaze—soft, curious. You just gave him a reassuring smile and slipped out of the room. 

Mihawk was waiting in the living room, long body stretched supine along the couch, booted feet thrown up on the arm. You narrowed your gaze at it. “Don’t put your feet on the furniture,” you grumbled. 

“Sorry, dear,” Mihawk said, though he made no move to alter his position. “Did you end up getting that jacket for me?” 

“I did,” you said, glancing through the satchel that hung at your hip. You pulled it out, folding it with a solid shake and holding it up for Mihawk to see. His golden eyes flickered up and down the garment, taking in the material. Black cotton twill, with red paisley silk as the lining, delicate red lace at the hem and sleeves. The lapels were wide, buttons shiny and black, and it used red stitching rather than black, giving a sort of exoskeleton look to it. Mihawk sat up, pushing his hat back. 

“It’s beautiful, darling. I love it.” 

You folded the jacket in half, slinging it across the back of the sofa before moving around to face Mihawk fully. “About the crew.” 

Mihawk glanced up to meet your eyes. “Yes?” 

“I…” you took in a breath, the inhale shaky in your lungs, bones and muscles rattling in your chest. “I think I’m going to stay with them for a little while, if you’re okay with it.” 

“The Straw Hat crew,” Mihawk said carefully, shaping the words on his mouth, tasting them on his tongue. “My daughter, part of the Straw Hat crew. Well, it’s not the most terrible-sounding thing to say, I suppose.” He paused. “No idea why you’d think I wouldn’t be okay with it, though, sweetheart. I’m not horrendous.” 

“Well, I figured—” you started, voice trailing out into a protesting whine. “You’d be against them? Garp sent you after them. One of them tried to kill you.” 

“Oh, you know I don’t hold grudges over such trifling matters,” Mihawk said with a dismissive wave. “Roronoa Zoro, right? He was watching you the entire time you entered. Wouldn’t take his eyes off you, darling.” There was a particular glint in his eyes, hunted, like he was searching for a quarry. “Something to tell me?” 

“No,” you said, too fast. Mihawk lifted both brows, and you broke almost easily. “Maybe. No. He’s—no.”

Mihawk clucked his tongue, sounding amused. “I suppose your rebel streak was bound to come out eventually. And from what you told me, he did beat you, so I can’t exactly complain.” You flushed, warmth heating up your skin, bringing a rosy blush to your cheeks. “Make sure he doesn’t get himself killed before I can fight him again, will you, little hawk? I’ve got my eye on that one.” 

“Okay, dad,” you muttered, but the tension of your shoulders had gone slack, and your muscles were loose. 

“Will you be leaving after dinner, or will you stay until the morning?” Mihawk asked, standing up to his full height. He stretched, sinewy limbs long and supple. He looked nearly odd without Yoru perched along his back. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Morning,” you answered. “I’ve missed you too, dad.” 

Mihawk smiled at you. “Go make sure our guests aren’t burning down the kitchen.” 

Dinner was less of an awkward affair than you’d expected. Usopp spoke the most through it, and Mihawk was fine to goad him on, occasionally switching topics to inquire about the rest of the crew. 

Sanji had made a fine meal; a grilled steak and onions with a side of asparagus to some kind of white sauce pasta you didn’t recognize. It felt… nice, really, having them all around you. Mihawk certainly knew how to socialize, and Luffy didn’t seem to mind his acerbic tendency. 

“And after I defeated all the enemy pirates,” Usopp was rambling on, “We hit a cannon straight into their mast, and it came crashing down! Oh, you should’ve seen it, man. It was me—well, Luffy—I guess he was the one that chucked the guy into the ship, or whatever. It wasn’t actually a cannon, but the details aren’t that important—”

“What about my little hawk?” Mihawk interrupted, and you had the vague sense to start whining. “I don’t suppose she just sat there throughout the whole fight.” 

“Oh, nah, she got some guys too I guess,” Usopp said, lazily waving an arm in the air. “She’s the one who stationed me at the cannon, she knew how great I was at it. She almost died to this one big dude—”

“I did not almost die!” you snapped. Usopp cackled out a hearty laugh. 

“No, she totally did. Thankfully for her, the great Captain Usopp came to her rescue—”

“Me,” Zoro muttered, words barely audible as he spoke them into his cup. You cracked a smile, and he glanced up, catching your eye. A tender look crossed his face. 

“Okay, yeah, it was Zoro who saved her,” Usopp admitted. “Cut the guy’s head straight off his body. But that’s just because I was busy fighting off the other pirates!” He motioned with his hands, mock-punching the air in front of him. 

Mihawk just raised his eyebrows. “Did he, now? I hope you thanked him properly for that, sweetheart.” 

You shot Mihawk a warning look. “Dad.” 

Mihawk didn’t let that faze him, raising his glass of wine to his lips. “You might want to take him around the island. There are some fairly romantic spots here, ones I brought your mother to while she was pregnant,” he said, mouth around the rim of his glass. You flushed, resisting the urge to lunge over the table at your father—clearly, he could see your vexation, mirth dancing in his eyes. 

Zoro didn’t say anything, eyes tilted downwards like there was something particularly interesting in his cup. Nami and Sanji were murmuring things to each other, and Sanji raised his voice to speak. 

“I knew there was something between the two of you! Come on, Lady Dracule, you could do so much better than the mosshead here—”  

“Shut it—” Zoro started. 

“You most certainly did not know, and you owe me fifteen hundred berry for that!” Nami said, offended. She elbowed Sanji firmly in the ribs, and he let out a low cough. Her head spun towards the head of the table, where Luffy was sitting across from your father. “Luffy, tell your cook to honor his bets.” 

“You bet on us?” you demanded, a squeak of embarrassment entering your voice as you protested. Nami gave you a look. 

“Please. You were obvious.” 

“Well,” Sanji jumped in, “Personally I thought you had better taste than—”

“I said shut it, waiter,” Zoro said, finally looking up to fix Sanji with a glare. He tilted his head to the side, one eyebrow raised, and you stifled a laugh. “And if I were you, I’d give Nami her money as soon as possible.” 

“This is so unfair,” Sanji muttered, but he fished a wallet out of his pocket and slapped a few bills onto the table. “There you are, madam. I hope you’re happy.” 

You groaned. “At the dinner table, really?” 

“Money waits for no one,” Nami said with a little wink, tucking her winnings carefully into a pocket of her skirt. 

“Sanji, did you make dessert?” Luffy wondered. Sanji rolled his eyes, but the sigh he let out was kind and good-natured. 

“Well, lucky for you, I did have the mind to bake some cookies while here.” He got up from his seat. You just gave him a dubious look; everyone had more or less finished with their food, though, so you got up, collecting the dishes to wash. 

You did chores, Nami hanging around you and lending her aid while the other Straw Hats got comfortable in guest rooms or whatever else. Zoro hadn’t budged from the dining room, apparently not interested in exploring the different parts of your house—you could just barely see him out of the kitchen doorway, nursing his drink as he stared thoughtfully into the distance. 

The familiar shape of your father’s jacket joined his side, and you narrowed your eyes, straining to hear. Mihawk had bent over the table, a pleasant smile on his face as he spoke. He didn’t bother to speak quietly, so everyone in the near vicinity heard his words— “If you hurt her, I won’t show the mercy I did the first time. My little hawk’s more important than finding a worthy opponent.”

“Dad!” you snapped, dropping the plate you were in the middle of washing. Mihawk didn’t even look in your direction, even as you stormed out of the kitchen to stand protestingly by the mouth. “Don’t—” 

“Oh, hush, dear,” Mihawk said with a dramatic eye roll. “I’m off to bed, then. I’ve got business in the morning.” He came over to you to brush another kiss along your knuckles. “I’ll be gone before you wake up. Safe travels.” 

“Good night,” you said with a sigh. Mihawk left, then, disappearing around the bend of the corner to head off to his room. 

“...I still don’t really forgive him for almost killing Zoro,” Nami said warily. Zoro got up from his seat, moving over to where the two of you had gathered in the kitchen. “But your dad’s fine, I guess. Not terrible, as far as fathers go.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed, then glanced apologetically towards Zoro. “I’m sorry about him.” 

“It’s fine,” Zoro said with a careless shrug. “It’s getting late. I’ll walk you to your room.” You nodded, drying your hands on a nearby kitchen towel and prompting Zoro to follow you up the steps. The house was large, a castle, really; all dark and winding, with long corridors and tall ceilings. Your bedroom was grand, on the second floor, with a sweeping balcony and wide windows that bore a full view of the island’s perpetual darkness. 

“What’d you say?” Zoro asked, stepping into the room. He glanced around, but didn’t remark in his surroundings, turning instead to look over at you. 

“I told him I’d be joining the Straw Hat pirates,” you said. Zoro smiled at that, the edges of his lips curling up. 

“Good,” he said simply. You moved towards him, forcing him to back up until he reached the plush of your bed. He sat down, eyes not flickering away from yours, soft brown that held an entire universe in them. Planets lined his cheeks, spatters of galaxies that you thought you might revolve inside. “Living here for years alone doesn’t seem like the most interesting life.” 

“It was fine while it lasted,” you said, bending your head down, lips hovering over his. Zoro’s hand came up to press firmly along your waist. “I think I like the ship a bit better, though.” 

“Hm,” Zoro murmured, eyes on your mouth. He tugged you down, but the kiss he pressed against your lips was chaste, and he was leaning back again before you knew it. “I decided, by the way. On whether I wanted your dad to like me or not.” 

You arched a brow, thinking back to that night so long ago when you’d first heard the words on Zoro’s lips. I’m not sure if I want him to like me. “Well?” 

“I do,” Zoro said, nudging against your chest, chin bumping along your shoulder. “It makes sense, with you.” 

A comfortable silence filled the space. His thumb ran a tender circle along the skin of your torso. “I should probably pack,” you murmured. 

“Eh, you’ll have time for that later,” Zoro said dismissively. You laughed, the sound full, straight out your throat. 

“Do I, now?” Zoro’s lip quirked, eyes grazing over your figure. You prattled on as if you didn't even notice. “Did you have something else in mind? You realize after this we have all the time in the world to be together—”

“I told you I was impatient,” Zoro interrupted, and then he was tugging you down, pressing a full kiss to your mouth again. You parted your lips to argue, but Zoro just took that as an opportunity to side his tongue in, and, well—this wasn’t so bad, either. One of your hands came to tangle in his hair, nudging his head just the slightest bit upwards to allow you better access. Zoro’s thumb didn’t stop making lazy revolutions into your skin. “Doesn’t seem like you mind.” 

“Shut up,” you mumbled against his lips. You leaned forward, pushing him back onto the bed, before pausing to lean down and unfasten the straps of his shoes. 

“You’re a real charmer.” Zoro didn’t complain, though, seeming more than pleased when you returned to kiss him, allowing him to fall back onto your bed now that you’d shed him of his footwear. “Little hawk, huh?” 

You huffed out a breath. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s cute,” Zoro said casually, one arm coming to prop behind his head. He drank you in properly, this time, from where you were on your knees on the mattress, unstrapping your own shoes before joining him up on the bed. “You are.”

You met his eyes, and a flicker of warmth crossed over your heart. For a soft, silent moment, you let it breathe. Let it exist there. Let the realization that you may one day love this man fill your soul. 

“Come here,” you said, climbing over to Zoro even as you spoke. “I’m going to kiss you again.” 

Zoro just grinned.  

The Going Merry was just as you’d left it, although Mihawk had provided you with any extra provisions the crew might’ve wanted for the rest of your journey. You’d packed up and brought along your stuff, too, managing to finally decorate your cabin in the ship more to your likeness. Everything was ready, and you stood at the edge of the aftercastle, Zoro to your side as you stared down at the island you’d called home for all the years of your life. 

But Kuraigana Island wasn’t your only home anymore, and neither was the hawk eyed man who resided in it whenever he was not busy doing something else. Mihawk had left in the early morning, but the ghost of his presence still warmed you. This way, it was easier to let go, you thought. This way, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. 

“Casting off!” Luffy yelled, his voice puncturing the stillness of the island air from his usual spot on the goat at the ship’s bow. You turned away from the island, jacket lapping around your legs as the wind whipped against it. 

“Ready to go?” Zoro asked carefully. 

“Yeah,” you answered, turning away from the island. Zoro stood to your left, one hand perched on the hilt of his sword, the other relaxed at his side. His brows were creased, strong against the shimmer of the glinting sun just barely peeking through the darkness of the island. 

The fog washed his features in blue, all blurry around the edges, but you couldn’t help but think he was the most beautiful man you’d seen anyway. 

“I’m ready.”

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

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author's note: i also wanted to pop in and say that i'm not opposed to writing more fics/oneshots of this character and in this universe (hereafter referred to as md!reader) with zoro <3 if you guys have any requests pop them in my box when my requests are open, plus i may write some on my own time too!

© halfvalid 2023

[heich0e]

suna's parents divorced when he was eight.

he doesn't remember a lot of the finer details as he's gotten older, mostly just that there used to be a lot of yelling, but he does remember the two piles of belongings that stacked up in the empty living room of his childhood home: one consisting of his father's and his own, and the other comprised of his mother's and his little sister's. their entire life, their entire family, packed up into cardboard and then divided down the middle.

the apartment he moved into with his father was always too quiet. it was in aichi, far enough away from where he spent the first decade of his life that he didn't have to be reminded of it every time he left the house, but since his father worked so much it still left him with plenty of time to think. to grieve. though maybe he didn't recognize it as that at the time. he played video games his father bought for him after school. ate convenience store bentos or whatever leftovers were set aside for him in the fridge for dinner. he put himself to bed at night. it wasn't a bad life, though maybe a bit lonely.

he was scouted to play for inarizaki when he was 14.

the lonely apartment turned into a lively dorm. he had new friends (his teammates) to play video games with. his convenience store bentos were replaced with hot meals from the meal hall. the loneliness of the apartment in aichi was a distant memory, but still lingered.

"i'm home."

rintarou drops his training bag in the genkan as he toes off his shoes, calling into the apartment to announce his return.

"welcome home!" you call back from further in the apartment, and the sound makes him smirk a little to himself.

you've been coming over to his place a lot lately, ever since he gave you his spare key. he's not upset about this in the slightest, but it doesn't mean he won't take every possible opportunity to tease you for it. he plans how he's going to make fun of you as he pads into his home towards the sound of your voice. he almost has it all planned out—his delivery on the very tip of his tongue—when he falters to a stop.

"how was your day?" you ask him without looking up from what you're doing.

and suddenly, anything rintarou may have wanted to say—joke or otherwise—is beyond him.

he watches as you set a plate of food down on the already full table just off his little kitchen. the food that covers the surface is still hot enough that steam curls up into the air above it, its preparation perfectly timed to his arrival home. his apartment is warm, and smells good, and there's music playing from your cellphone on the other side of the room that you must have been listening to while you cooked.

his chest feels tight.

you turn to look at him when he doesn't respond to your question.

"rin?" you ask again, a lilt of worry in your tone. "you okay?"

"what's all this?" he manages to ask, nodding towards the table where the meal you prepared is still waiting.

"oh, i've been craving my mom's recipe for the past few days, i just thought i'd make it for dinner," you say, tugging at your fingers nervously. your entire countenance is a bit different now, strained like you're worried you've done something wrong. "hope that's okay?" your words lift at the end like a question.

rintarou's never seen so much food on his table. can't remember the last time he even sat there to eat a meal—let alone a home cooked one. his face feels hot, and his eyes sting, and he just can't bring himself to look at you.

"yeah," he says, and if you notice how his voice is a bit croaky, you're nice enough not to tease him about it. "'course it's okay."

you smile, and you look relieved. "wash your hands then, it's getting cold."

you eat your dinner together and talk about your days. you take a shower while he cleans up the dishes. you fall asleep tangled up together on the couch with a movie playing in the background.

his home isn't quiet anymore. he isn't lonely.

and it's thanks to you.

[ghouljams]

Viking!Soap has consumed my entire being! Just imagining how unhinged he'd get if highland!reader got hurt or taken!!

Or or or! Him seeing her holding/caring for babies! They way he'd get sooo feral... 🥴

(Your writing > Me 🤰)

While the vikings aren't back home quite yet in the Soap story line, I did have an idea in my head and this is honestly the best ask to write it out in. Here's some of highland!reader being a healer and Soap being just... so dead over it

uuuuuh tw for descriptions of birth. I'm giving Gaz a baby.

Now this is a good use of your skills. You forget sometimes, that the vikings come from somewhere, that there must be people waiting on them, that they must have a home. This? You could never deny that Gaz is human after this. Not with the way he holds his wife's hand and frets over her as she grits her teeth and pushes. You know this, you've been midwife to enough of the people in your village to feel her dilation with your fingers, to cup the baby's head and ease its shoulders. You try to look reassuring as the mother sobs above you. That's what Gaz is for you suppose, he murmurs quiet affections to her, trying to keep her calm through the worst of it.

When the baby finally slips free and falls into your hands you can feel the relief that sobs through its mother. You're quick to dip your scissors in the boiled water nearby and snip the cord, tying it off with deft precision. You frown at the quiet infant, rub your fingers against its chest as Gaz comforts his wife. It scrunches its little face, opens its mouth on a silent cry and you turn it over to hit its little back hard. Then again, until it coughs and its cry finally pierces the air.

You sigh, and pass the baby off to be cleaned up by one of the mother's friends. "It's a boy," You tell the happy couple, taking their weary smiles as payment for a job well done. The only job you've ever done well.

The fire has burned low and the rest of the village has gone home to wait, but the 141 is vigilant. The crazy shepherd pops her head out of Gaz's house with good news after hours waiting. Soap lets out a breath and leans back to look at the rising sun. A new day for a new life.

He doesn't expect to see you holding the new wee one when they're actually allowed in. Sat next to the bed, fingers checking over the infant as your wrap and re-wrap its swaddle. His swaddle. Gaz said the baby was a boy.

You look tired, but you smile fondly down at the sleeping baby none the less. Again he finds himself staring at the rising sun, the warmth of you permeating every shallow corner of the room. The baby shift in its blankets and you shush it before it can start crying. Your fingers are so gentle as the skate over its little cheeks and nose. Every angle of you seems to gentle the infant, each soft touch to calm it. Soap's never seen anyone like you, never thought someone like you would step down from the realm of the gods to grace the earth.

Something warm melts over Soap's heart, the tender moment broken when you hand the baby back to his mother. Gaz and his wife laugh as Ghost and Price crowd close to give the congratulations, but Soap can't take his eyes off of you. He wants to see it again, wants to see you cradling an infant, looking content and proud.

Soap goes to stand next to you, brushes his fingers against your shoulder to try and catch some of the warmth breaking off of you. You stiffen and glare up at him. He takes his hand away, feels his fingers tighten, his smile hollow when he pastes it on. How differently would you look at him if it was his baby you cradled close to your chest? Would your gaze still cut into him like the bitter winds that carry snow down from the mountains? Would you soften for him, let him see the warmth in your eyes that now seems so far away? Would you look at him like you look at the baby?

As something human?

"Thank you," Gaz's wife give you a genuine smile, her eyes tired but shining with joy, "I know this isn't what you-"

"No," You stop her, the nordic tongue sounds so foreign to Soap's ears when it comes from your mouth, "I'm happy to help." Your accent is bad, it makes Soap smile a little fuller as he tries not to laugh. You seem to warm again watching the happy family. It's just him then.

Soap can see it when you give Gaz a weary smile, he's human in your eyes. He wonders what it would take to be granted the same honor. If you'd ever give him that, just that, he could live a lifetime on it.

[heartfullofleeches]

Current Brainrot~ Creep Yan plans to summon a powerful demon to kill those who have wronged them through their life - only it probably wasn't best to follow everything they read online as they actually end up summoning Clown Demon Darling who only knows how to kill with laughter. It's still their job to grant the human who summons them pure happiness and seeing as the only thing that would make Creep happy is brains splattered across the wall - Darling agrees to help them... On one condition. They need to clean up the mess they made in their room. And take a shower. When was the last time they had one of those? And buy some ice cream. Demon Darling loves ice cream, but it always melts before they get to enjoy all of it because they want to savior every bite. Creep should have done too, of course!

Just a sad, homidical maniac and the annoyingly sweet demon servant who day by day improves their life and makes it impossible for them to even breathe properly if they're not by their clown's side. I'd love to explore a reversal scenario with Creep Darling and Clown Yan eventually, but what we have rn is beautiful.

-

Clown Darling: Hellooo, new friend! It's so wonderful to meet you! My name is Y/n the clown, and I'm here to make you the happiest you'll ever be. What should we do first, bud? Play games? Bake cookies? Draw-

Creep Yan: I want you to kill my entire family and former friends.

Clown Darling: ....I have checkers?

-

[Creep Yan lays on the floor of their bedroom in one of their moods when Clown Darling lays beside them throwing their arm over their chest]

Creep Yan: What the hell are you doing?

Clown Darling: Giving you a hug! I love hugs from my friends when I'm sad. Didn't your friends give you hugs?

Creep Yan: no.

Clown Darling: oh- I'm sorry

Creep Yan: I never said let go.

-

Clown Darling: Ice cream!

Creep Yan: Eat it normally - I don't want melted ice cream everywhere

Clown Darling: Kay! [Unhinges their jaw and swallows the cone whole - licking each finger with their unnaturally long tongue]

Creep Yan: ....Never do that again and stay out of my room tonight.

Clown Darling: Why? :(

Creep Yan: You're not gonna like what you see

[fatuismooches]

Hello

I just saw your post with the fragile SO and honestly I loved it sooo much ❤️

Now I wanted to request kinda of a follow up. Like what if before you died you wrote them a letter, saying how much you love them and how they made your last days on earth so memorable and stuff like that. And they found it, like maybe a month or so after your death. How would they all react? (I'm specially curious of Capitano because you said you thought he would think that he killed you 😭)

I really love your writing and I plan to make more request in the future 👋

-🦎

♡𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞/𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐝 ♡

synopsis: The Harbingers are made of steel, unflinching in any possible situation. But it seems that even such strong beings falter in the face of their lover's death, especially after they find a letter you left behind. Can be read as a part 2 to this.

includes: all harbingers (platonic pulcinella) w/ gn! reader

notes: Hop on the angst train, everyone. This is the first completely angsty thing I've written, and probably one of my favorites + longest pieces. I hope you enjoy this sadness, anon...!

Pierro:

Pierro carried on. He went about his day, filing paperwork, assigning duties to new recruits. What could he do? There was no time to mourn. The entire Fatui depended on his guidance and orders. He couldn’t just drop everything to fully devote himself to grieving you. But everyone knew - in any spare moment he had, he was thinking about you. Thinking about how he used to be able to go home to you waiting for him. Thinking about the walks he took with you that were heartwarming despite the body-chilling temperature. Thinking about when you were alive.

It was another day when one of your maids came to him with a piece of paper. Of course, she was terrified at being in the presence of the Harbinger, but she presented a folded piece of paper to him, stating that she had found it while cleaning your room. Pierro hadn’t been in there for a while. He was consciously trying his best to avoid it, choosing to pick up work instead. He nodded and the maid quickly scurried out of the room. It was most likely a final memento from you. He should honor that, he thought as he took off his mask.

Dear Pierro,

Hello there, my love. I hope your day wasn’t too tiring. I know how you’re always swamped with your Fatui business and such. You’re the head Harbinger, you know! You should definitely abuse your power to get some more days off. You didn’t hear that from me though, not like I wanna keep you to myself or anything. Totally not because I’m dying to spend some more time with you before I quite literally die. 

You know, sometimes I wish I was a Fatui soldier just so that I could admire you from afar some more. Those recruits are damn lucky, getting to see you more than I do. I don’t mean to complain though. I’m still tremendously grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying the best moments of my life with you. Yeah, even when I made jokes you still had that stoic look on your face but it was still hilarious. I loved when you would wrap me in your coat and tell me stories about Khaenri’ah. Even when you weren’t here, I loved when these random recruits would be scurrying to my room every so often to deliver your handwritten notes. 

Truly, there’s no life I’d rather live than this one… minus the illness part though. I am sorry to make you shoulder another death, my dear, but I love you greatly. I will always be with you.

Quietly, Pierro put the paper down and rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ever since the fall of his nation, his heart had long gone numb. He had tried to ignore the prickling of his heart after your death, but your letter was really rubbing it on. When was the last time mere words could stir up such emotion in him? He didn’t know. But he promised you, this would not be your final resting place. Pierro knew, after fulfilling the Tsaritsa’s promise, he would see you again.

Capitano:

Capitano wasn’t very photogenic. After all, all you saw was a helmet shrouding his face in darkness along with his pitch-black armor and clothes. But you had insisted on taking a variety of pictures with him, claiming that it kept you happy. It wasn’t until later on when he stumbled across a scrapbook, with pages covered in photos of the two of you together, that he understood why. Since then, he let you do as you please. The doctors said it was good for you to keep occupied by doing things you liked. And well, it was rather cute, with all the decorations and fancy tape you added. Capitano often found himself looking at it to see what you added when you weren’t around.

But ever since your death, he hadn’t looked at it since. If he did, he didn’t think he’d be able to control the emotions boiling up inside of him. If he looked at your smiling face again, the pain and regret would be too much to bear. But as the days passed by and he continued to think about you, he couldn’t help but flip open the scrapbook, revisiting the memories he made with you so long ago. He flipped until he found a envelope in the middle, causing him to perk up. It had been sealed perfectly, even stamped with one of his seals. Now, Capitano didn’t want to invade your privacy, but what was inside called to him too much, and he very carefully unsealed it with a knife. Inside was a piece of parchment, similar to the ones he used to send you letters.

My knight,

I’m writing this after you just left for an expedition. You’ve just fed me breakfast (a/d fa//ed, but it’s f/ne b/ca/se it w/s c/te.) (The ending part of the sentence has been erased, but it’s still a bit readable.) We took an early bath together, and you helped me choose a nice outfit for today. You dutifully assisted me with my medicine and tucked me back into bed for some rest. Lastly, you’ve just tenderly kissed me with all the love in the world, my favorite part of course.

It’s too bad that I won’t be able to receive any more of your kisses soon. I think the sickness is really catching up to me, haha. (There are some doodles of the two of you randomly drawn in the middle of the paper, with lots of hearts and stars and rainbows. Maybe you stopped because you didn’t know how to continue.) To be honest, I’ve asked the doctors not to tell you, and somehow, they’ve listened to me. I just don’t want you to worry about me. Somehow, for someone as menacingly looking as you, you worry a lot more than I thought (no offense, though.)

I don’t want you to blame yourself for anything, my love. You genuinely made my life so, so much better. Even towards the end, I can only feel happiness that I was able to share some of my life with someone so incredible. You aren’t a monster. You’re the man I love dearly, the one who many people look up to all the time. You did everything and more, which really warms my heart.

I’m saying this because I know how you are and I need to knock some sense into you before you start getting any crazy ideas. Please don’t beat yourself up. If I could choose my destiny, I’d rather choose to be sick and be with you rather than being healthy. I’d choose you again and again, over and over, my dear. I love you, truly.

Carefully folding the letter, he tucked it into the envelope again and resealed it. He snugly placed it back into the scrapbook and closed it, placing it back into the drawer where he usually kept it. Capitano was used to the grief and destruction that war brought. But he wasn’t used to it when love brought these feelings upon him. His heart still hurt - terribly so - but… your letter seems to have brought him some peace. You would forever be in his heart.

Columbina:

It had been a while since your death. By now, everyone had become accustomed to hearing her songs every day. It was a constant reminder of your passing. Oftentimes,  Columbina had begun to stay in your room longer than her own. You were gone, but something about your space soothed her soul a bit from all the grief she was going through. And she also liked to go through your stuff and remember different things about you.

There was a box that contained a compilation of the many songs and poems she gifted you, along with some that you created yourself with her help. Sometimes, she liked to go through the box and think about you, but she never had the time to inspect every piece. Until now, when she noticed that there was an unfamiliar piece of paper that she didn’t recognize. Columbina picked it up and began to read.

My lovely melody,

Lately, I’ve begun to sing more. I think you’ve inspired me. I hope you don’t mind me stealing that one song you like to hum the most. The only problem is that I don’t have enough stamina to sing for that long, and I think my voice is kind of off-key. But I promise I’m working on it! I’m not going to tell you yet because I want to surprise you with something nice, as a thank you for taking care of me for so long.

Actually, there’s another problem, and it’s that… (it seems that you wrote a lot of words here and then scratched them out; perhaps you were unsure how to word it) Well, I guess I don’t really know if I’ll live long enough to perform for you. It’s been kind of tough lately. But I’m going to persevere for you. Your poems have been helping a lot. We should make a book of them one day. And um, in the case that I don’t make it, I would like you to know how happy you made me.

I always got so giddy when I heard you humming down the hallway. Nothing felt better than when you would croon to me and massage my scalp and play with my hair. You are so comforting and sweet, and just - lots of things that would be too much to write. I always feel eternally fortunate that I was able to have a lover as amazing as you. You really did change my life. I love you very much, Columbina. Please don’t forget me.

Columbina’s usual smile had turned into a downward curve. Oh, how she wished she could hear you sing. Your usual voice and laugh had already been angelic to her, she knew your songs would be beautiful too. But you were no longer here. She would have really loved to hear your song. You would have been the best duet partner. But perhaps, you could hear her songs from the other world as she laid on your coffin once again.

Dottore:

Dottore hadn’t entered your room since your death. He was far too busy with his research and experimentation with resurrection. Mourn you? No, no, you weren’t going to be dead for long, after he finds the answer. You would be back in his arms soon enough. Both of you would be fine. That was, until no matter how hard he researched, he always seemed to hit a dead end. It was frustrating. He couldn’t believe it, but he was at the point where he willingly needed a couple of minutes to rest. Dottore headed to his room, but as he placed his hand on the doorknob, something stopped him and he looked over to the room next to his, yours. He silently walked over and opened your room, having not been in it for a while. The only reason you didn’t share a room was that his was very… bland, boring, not very comfortable, and not spacious enough for the medical equipment.

It was the same as he had left it, not bothering to change anything. You liked to decorate it, and he let you. Framed photos of the two of you were on the dresser, lights hung up around the room. It seemed to make you happy. But there was something he had not noticed before - a slip of paper sticking out from under the pillow. Dottore walked over and took off his mask - something he unconsciously tended to do when it was just the two of you - and opened the folded paper.

To Zandik,

I remember when you first took interest in me, looking at me up and down with your mask on, a wide smirk on your face. I knew my parents said they hired someone intelligent to cure me, but I sure didn’t expect it to be the second Harbinger. I think you already know this, but when I saw you, I was kinda scared for my life. And I was for a while, especially when you made me drink the most hellish concoctions and injected strange things into me. But long story short, I still fell in love with you somehow. Even though you were probably trying so hard just because you wanted to solve the mystery of my illness, I couldn’t help but think you were quite handsome when you focused on something so intensely. Your pointy teeth were the cutest. (The previous sentence has been erased but Dottore could still make it out. You were an idiot, he thinks.)

I don’t mean to insult your intelligence or skill… but I don’t think I’m going to make it, Dottore. I know you’ve been trying really, really hard (I was there the whole time, after all) to help cure me, but I think you know better than me about my condition. So yeah. I guess this is my goodbye… my parting letter.

I know you don’t care about anyone or anything really, but I hope you accept it when I say I genuinely enjoyed our time together. Yea, you were hella terrifying and a lot of scary stories drifted about you, but there was a lot of maniacal laughter and you rambling on about things I had no clue about, but I would always happily listen to you, Zandik. I would write more, but I don’t think you’re one for sappy words and stuff like that. So I’ll leave end it here. I love you very much.

His mouth was a straight thin line at the end of your letter. Dottore put his mask back on and tucked your letter into his coat. For once, he couldn’t blame someone for insulting his intelligence. He did fail, after all. But Dottore was no stranger to failure. Experimentation was a series of trials and errors, failures and successes. He swore to himself that you would not be a failure. Perhaps his journey to Sumeru, the land of wisdom, would grant him some more insight for your resurrection.

Pulcinella:

It was just after your funeral. Surprisingly, all the Harbingers had gathered too. It seemed like they had grown somewhat fond of you after Pulcinella introduced you to them, at least enough to attend your funeral. Pulcinella was grateful. He had spoken a few words in memory of you. He couldn’t keep everyone for long. They had other matters to attend to. But in his heart, he had a lot of dear words for you. 

Pulcinella sat down at his desk, deciding to do some paperwork to distract his mind. He pulled out the drawer to retrieve some items but he noticed a piece of paper stuffed to the back of it. He certainly had not put that there. He reached for it and opened it to read the contents.

Hey Papanella,

Do you like that nickname I came up with? I haven’t said it to you yet because I’m not sure how you’ll react. But I think it’s pretty cute. I haven’t said this out loud yet either but… um, I guess you’re like my dad to me. My own parents never cared much for me after my illness proved to be too much work, but you always treated me so kindly. So yeah. Thanks for being a father figure to me. Archons, this is kind of embarrassing.

I’m admitting this because I don’t know how much longer I have. I know you’re always encouraging me to keep living on, and I really do appreciate it. I’m sincerely trying my best, but I think my sickness has been getting worse. Ah, and thanks for introducing me to the Harbingers. They’re pretty scary but they’re kind of cool when you get to know them. Some of them are cute too. Please don’t tell them I said that. But really, for the longest time, I thought my life would amount to nothing, and that no one would remember me. But you proved me wrong. I truly enjoyed spending the last of my days doing old people stuff with you (just kidding of course!)

I’m going to ask you to tell me lots of more stories when I see you again. They really make my day. I like the ones about you in your youth the best. They’re the funniest. Anyway, I love you, gramps. Don’t miss me too much.

Pulcinella was old. He had seen things be built and broken down, people come and go. But he always hated it the most when he had to see youngsters go before he did. Especially innocent ones who had done nothing wrong. He just prayed, that whichever world you were in now, treated you better than this one did.

Scaramouche:

Ever since your death, the soldiers had been on the receiving end of Scaramouche’s insults even more. No longer were you here to hastily save them from his berating, much to their dismay.  They actually appreciated you for stopping Scaramouche from giving them another verbal (and sometimes even physical) beating. But now if he wasn’t yelling at someone, he was deathly silent, which was why even scarier than his words. Everyone knew they were forbidden from speaking about you in his presence.

When Scaramouche had to visit Inazuma for whatever reason, he always found himself walking towards your house. Once he had came across the Tenryou Commission moving your items out of your house, due to no one living there anymore and the want for someone else to buy it. Needless to say, he swiftly dealt with them and sent them on their way with rage. They had tried a few more times and he did not hold back, until later they stopped coming, apparently after the head shrine maiden gave an order on the behalf of the Shogun to leave the residence alone. Hmph.

He doesn’t know why he keeps coming here, the only thing that’s different is the new collection of dust on the dresser. But the want to see you again keeps calling him, only to leave Scaramouche sorely disappointed. He thinks he knows every nook and cranny of your house, that is until he walks on a floorboard that caves in and nearly makes him fall. He’s about to lose his temper until he sees a piece of paper hidden under the floor. The words die in his throat as he picks it up to inspect.

To my beloved Kunikuzushi,

As I write this, you’re probably yelling at some unfortunate Fatui soul and they’re all trembling in their boots. Haha, I wish I was there to see that. You should be nicer, you know. But it is kinda funny to see you mad. I hope you come back soon… it’s getting too quiet around here without your quips and remarks.

But I know as you read this, I’m no longer alive. Kuni, I… (There are wrinkled spots around this area, presumably from your tears.)

I love you, and I don’t want rage and hatred to consume you again. I’m sorry to make your heart bear such pain again. It may be fruitless to say this, but please don’t blame yourself… it was out of our control. Please know I enjoyed every moment with you, whether you were cursing at some guy who bumped into me, even when you teased me relentlessly, or silently crying in my arms about your fate. But my favorite part was your soft smiles which grew more frequent. You are loved very much by me too. I want to see you smile more, many more times before I- (The rest of the sentence was scribbled over with a pen, making it unreadable.)

I wish I didn’t have to depart so soon�� I wish I was born someone else, someone more strong and healthier… if I was, would our story be different, Kuni? Perhaps we’ll meet again one day… hopefully, sooner rather than later, and maybe I won’t be the same as I am now, but…

Will you wait for me, Kunikuzushi?

Scaramouche hated when he cried. He felt weak, stupid, and disgusting, especially when you were there. And somehow, he couldn’t help but feel worse than that when he finished reading your letter. He was never favored by the Gods, having been betrayed by one already. It seemed as though he was always fated to be betrayed by people he cared about. But he knew deep down that you didn’t betray him, he did instead by not being able to protect and save you. In an effort to bury his despair, anger, and grief, he would wipe himself clean of foolish human emotions, ready to ascend to godhood with his creator’s Gnosis…

Arlecchino:

Arlecchino’s days had been exactly the same ever since your death. They were the same as before she had met you too. Bland. Boring. Dull. It was after your passing that she truly realized how much your presence had added some thrill and color into her life. Now they were empty. But she was used to that. She had felt that way for a long time.

Arlecchino didn’t do much in her room besides sleep. Her room wasn’t anything special, just the standard and rich master bedroom. That was, until you took it upon yourself to decorate it. She hadn’t bothered to change it despite the style being very much different from hers. Today she had come in briefly to retrieve some documents under her bed. But, there was a random piece of paper there, collected dust on top of it, most likely from being placed there a long time ago. Arlecchino opened the folded paper and was greeted with your handwriting.

To my sunshine,

I bet you’re wondering why the hell I chose “sunshine” of all names. Even I can admit that you are nothing like sunshine. But I wanted to spice things up a bit, and to be honest, you bring a lot of sunshine into my heart and dreary little life, despite your stone-cold face. So yeah! I don’t think I can call you that to your face though. It’d be too scary.

I didn’t tell you, but I’ve had some people ask me why I chose to stay with you despite my health being what it is. My answer is always very easy - I love you, Arlecchino. Plain and simple. They don’t know how you are with me (which I’m kinda glad for… I want to keep this side of you to myself; yes, I know I’m greedy.) The way your lips quirk up for a split second then always turn downwards because you don’t want anyone to see. The way your eyes soften for a bit when I tell a corny joke. Or when I do anything actually. Your facial expressions are pretty cute.

Ahem, moving on from that, I guess you can say that I’m not too scared to say these things because I might be leaving you soon. Not of my free will, of course. Rather, it seems like the time my illness is allowing me to live is limited. Hopefully, you don’t notice anything off about me. I don’t think I could explain all of this in person… 

But I am really thankful to you for sticking by my side for so long. Even though you don’t tell me, I know sometimes you lament about your lack of ability to be verbally and affectionately comforting. But I hope you know that I don’t really care about that. You are more than enough for me. You’ve done a lot more than you think. I’m forever appreciative, my dear.

Arlecchino was left speechless, the usual bite in her throat died down. As someone who had few kind words to say to others, having such sweetness directed at her was not something she was used to. But of course, a part of her wasn’t surprised, because the only person who’d utter such things was you. It pained her, and even the children who cried after your death, greatly. But whenever she needed a reminder of you, she would uncharacteristically gently trace her fingertips over the words of your letter.

La Signora:

Everyone knew to stay out of La Signora’s way after your death. She was cruel before, but your passing seemed to reignite all the flames of anguish and hatred she harbored deep inside her broken heart. Once again, her walls had been put up to be unbreakable.

Rosalyne had gifted you a lot of makeup and accessories. She liked to experiment on you and liked it when you tried it yourself too. You had kept everything in a nice big box so nothing would get lost. One day she felt drawn to it again. She knew she was missing you dearly again, and although opening it would just cause her heartache, she couldn’t help but pry it open to see how you kept it. But on top was a hastily folded letter, stained a bit by the surrounding makeup, tucked into a small compartment. She flipped it open and began to scan the contents.

My dearest Rosalyne,

Hello there, pretty lady. You know, that’s the first thing I thought when I saw you. Tall pretty lady. Did you know that? Now you do. Anyway, I was wondering - how many of your flame moths can you create at a time?? Can you make them form a heart or something? 

Haha, I’m sorry for beating around the bush. The truth is I don’t know how much longer I have left. No matter how much warmth your moths provide me, for some reason, I always feel the chill of death creeping up my spine…

I don’t mean to be your second heartbreak. I’m really sorry… you deserve so much better than that. But for what it’s worth, you made my life a lot better than it was before. I hadn’t had much confidence in myself because of my illness for a long time. But you, Rosalyne… you made me feel like an actual person, as strange as that sounds. I feel like, when I’m with you, you make me feel so loved and special. I’m far from it but I actually feel like royalty. And royalty is really a life worth living. I don’t even know how you did it, but thank you. My life is so, so much happier thanks to you.

Hopefully, I make it a lot longer after I’m writing this letter. Maybe the Gods could finally take pity on me and give me some kind of blessing so I can stay with you longer. But if anything happens, I really, truly love you, Rosalyne. (The end of the letter has an origami moth colored in and taped to it.)

Signora’s hand trembled as she finished your letter. Her heart had returned to being ice, but it felt like her whole body was being swallowed up in red-hot grief and anger. Signora would dedicate herself solely to the Tsaritsa’s noble dream. It was the only thing she could do now, with nothing else to do and no one left for her freezing heart to love. No one could ever hope to understand the grief and pain she’s been through. Perhaps, that was why when she stood in front of the Raiden Shogun’s sword, she did not feel much regret.

Pantalone:

Whenever Pantalone went out, he often found himself looking through the windows of many stores to view their products. It was almost an instinct to pull out a large sum of Mora to buy anything he thought you’d like. And he still did this, only that he stopped halfway every time when he remembered that you were no longer with him. And his heart felt painfully heavy once again, like how heavy his smile felt with the pressure to keep it up.

The silence of his office had become a norm once again, your joyful presence no longer around to brighten it up. Pantalone opted to drown himself in paperwork to ignore it. Actually, he never realized how much the tick of the grandfather clock bothered him until now. Usually, your voice was loud enough to hide it. He sighed and reached for the bottom drawer to get some new pens to sign the documents. But his eyes widened as he saw a paper clearly laid out there, addressed to him at the top. His heart beat quickened as he carefully picked it up and realized it was from you. It seemed like you had experimented with some fancy calligraphy pens he had gotten you a while ago. And you had also stolen every stamp you had from him and stamped all over the paper.

Darling,

Hello, my love. Sorry for all the random stamps. I wanted to see what they looked like. Why does the Fatui need so many different-shaped stamps? You should make one of us, actually. And do you see I’ve been practicing my cursive script? (Indeed, on the back on the paper, your name has been signed in different styles.) I’ve been trying to do my signature all fancy like you. Hopefully, I’m improving.

I am thinking to make you read me a bedtime story tonight. I found a new one that seemed pretty cute. It’s a commoner falling in love with a nobleman… a tale of forbidden romance. It seems to go fine, until the commoner s/cc/mbs to (It seems that you scratched off the rest of the sentence.) Actually, I won’t spoil the ending for you. But by the time you read this letter, we may have finished it already. I’m just going to abuse that pretty voice of yours as much as I can (kidding of course… but no joke. Have you tried some kind of service where you just read things to people? I think you’d make a lot of money from that. I sure would give all my life savings to you.)

I guess since I’m writing this, I should say another thing I’m thinking about. I’m not sure how much longer I can hang on. I’m trying my best because I don’t want to let you down. I know you’ve been trying your best, with all these fancy doctors and equipment, but um… yeah. But I should also say that I’m not regretful having spent my time with you. You made the last days of my life so relaxing, so stress-free, so… nice. I’m glad I don’t need to worry about anything with you. Let’s move on from this, actually.

I’m thinking of a lot of things, actually. I wonder what you made the chef prepare for us tonight. Mhm… I’m getting hungry. Will you feed me dessert again too? Hah, I’m going to miss thinking about such mundane things. Hmm, I think I can hear your voice down the hall, so I’ll wrap this up. I love you.

Pantalone gazed at your words forlornly, his mouth formed into a downwards line. He had never thought the loss of something besides Mora could squeeze his heart so painfully, but here you were, making his eyes sting once again. Blinking back any tears, he made sure to store your letter in a safe place. He made a note to visit your grave today. He’d bring your favorite snack too, and read you a story perhaps.

Sandrone:

It was almost ironic - the puppet master had become a puppet herself. She didn’t speak much to others anymore, choosing to lock herself up in her lab. A part of her debated making some kind of robot or doll replica of you. But it would never be the same. She wouldn’t feel your warmth, or your natural, free laugh. Nothing would be similar.

Sandrone had begun inspections on all of her created robots. It was a grueling process she had gotten used to, but she missed the chirping of your voice as she did so. She worked in silence, opening the compartment of one of them when she was caught off guard by a formerly white paper, caked in dust, inside. The only person who had access to her Automatons was you. So could it possibly be…?

My forever,

I’m actually writing this in the same room as you. You're too preoccupied with your robot building and engineering and all that stuff, so you don’t notice me rushing to write all of this. I’ll make this quick. Actually, it’s hard to concentrate when you look so pretty and intelligent. Ahh, I’m so lucky to have you with me.

I think you’re repairing one of your robots so it can lift us up and take us on a walk. I’m excited. Those are always so much fun. I know you aren’t a sappy person. But I want to make my feelings clear, since I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to watch you unscrew some bolts and hammer down the nails. I don’t need to say it outright, do I? We both know I’ve been getting worse. Neither of us wants to say it out loud, but it’s reality.

Before I go, let me make it clear, since I know you like being blunt. You are my everything. Seeing your cute little robots send me these cute little messages really made my day. I think you told me a long time ago that you didn’t care much about human emotions. I think that’s changed now. I love waking up to see that calm and content expression on your face and watching it become a bit more softer when you see me. You’re more human than you think, you know. Some people think that being cooped up in a lab with a Harbinger is not an ideal way to live. But I beg to differ. I would choose no other way to live as long as I’m with you, Sandrone.

I think you’re finished with your tinkering. I’m going to have one of the robots hide this paper in them. I think some of them like me better than you >:) I wonder how long it’ll be until you find it. Hopefully, you don’t find it too quickly because it’ll be awkward to explain this to you. Either way… I love you dearly, Sandrone.

Sandrone gently brushed off the dust on your letter. She wished she found it sooner. She didn’t know whether it was good or bad her heart was finally feeling some emotion again, but she was grateful to have some final parting words from you. Sandrone had a bubble of inspiration float up in her. She had a good idea of what she was going to build next.

Childe:

Childe had found it after he was cleaning out your apartment in Liyue. He wanted to bring all of your stuff to his home in Snezhnaya. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t throw any of your items away, even the random useless trinkets. Childe’s chest felt hollow as he opened the door to your residence. He expected to see your face brighten and eagerly pull yourself out of bed to hug him. He’d easily lift you off the floor and spin you around, drinking in your gleeful giggles as he pressed his lips to yours. But now it was just the creak of the floorboards as he walked in.

Childe had a memory connected to every piece of clothing that you had. That one he gifted to you for your birthday. Another he remembered twirling you around in on a picnic. One of his sweaters that he doesn't remember you stealing from him, mingled with your scent and his. Archons, his chest hurt so badly, but there was nothing he could do as he neatly placed your items in boxes, emptiness consuming him. He was finishing up the packing when a piece of paper folded in half fell out of one of your pants’ pockets. Childe picked it up and his eyes widened when he recognized your handwriting and his real name. Sitting down on your bed, he began to read.

To my one and only Ajax,

My greatest wish is that you’ll never find and read this letter because it means that we’re living our best lives. We’re happy, content, still deeply in love with each other… living in bliss. 

But if you’re reading this, then we probably didn’t go and do all of the cool and exciting things you wanted us to. I didn’t move to Sneznhnaya and I didn’t meet the rest of your family. We didn’t go travel to all the nations like you wanted to…

Heh, that’s too bad. I was really looking forward to seeing the same sights you saw on your travels. The pretty bloom of Inazuma’s sakura trees, the beautiful snow-covered streets of Snezhnaya. Remember that time you asked me if I wanted to conquer the world with you? Of course, since I can’t ever say no to you, I accepted your proposition. But in my head, I couldn’t help but think that you should probably choose someone who can match your ability and someone who is act/a/ly g/i/g to b/ ali/e. (The previous words have been haphazardly erased, making it hard to make out.)

You know I… (The ink here has bled through the paper, most likely due to you stopping there for a good while.) I don’t even know what to say, I’m just sorry. I don’t wanna leave you, I wanna be by your side forever, wanna be attacked by your cuddles every day. But the only thing I can do now is to make sure you understand that I’m truly grateful for you. No one else has ever cared about me as much as you did. You never stopped believing in me and always smiled when I needed you. You made my feeble life worth living.

Please don’t be sad. Teucer and the rest of your siblings need you. I love you so very much…

He didn’t realize how hard he was digging his fingernails into his skin until he started bleeding through the paper. Childe had been through endless battles, and fought countless enemies, but no wound had ever burned as badly as his heart did right now. Even in the Abyss, he did not feel as bottomless of despair as he felt right now. He wanted to hold you again too, Childe thought. He wanted to kiss you all over and show you how much he loved you. But you were gone, and the letter just solidified it more. He laid down on your bed, hand covering his forehead as he stared blankly at your ceiling. Biting down on his lip hard, he tried to prevent tears from flowing again. He would just go back to being the Tsarista’s weapon again, drowning himself in battle and blood just to feel something after your death.

[pondering-gales-left-orb]

i will not accept shane spouse room slander anymore im sick of it

I'm so mad at everyone who is mad at Shane's spouse room and i cant keep silent about it anymore

let me start by saying yes Shane was my first ever spouse in SDV and no i was not thinking i could fix him i was just impressed by his progress and self improvement so i had my character marry him

then i went online to see what are people saying about him and i was SHOCKED everyone was so mean to him and were absolutely wronggggggggggg about him

this man does improve himself he absolutely is better after marriage and everyone that's mischaracterizing that because of his spouse room is a coward sorry i don't make the rules

facts: Shane goes to therapy and starts getting his alcoholism under control by eliminating the source of his pain which is wasting his life away at joja and doing something he loves which is raise blue chickens THAT HE MADE MIGHT I ADD HE INVENTED A NEW BREED OF CHICKENS BTW. that last point alone pisses me of so hard because people so often over look it! he is just as smart as Maru just as creative as Eliot and just as ambitious as Sam, let me repeat myself HE INVENTED A NEW BREED OF CHICKEN WHILE HE WAS DEPRESSED AND SUFFERING OF ALCOHOLISM.... recognize his brilliance please

so that means people saying he falls back into his old habits because he has a six pack in his room is wrong, imo he stops being an alcoholic and goes back to having drinking be a hobby he does while gaming or hanging out with friends at the bar THAT'S THE POINT UR SUPPOSED TO GET FROM HIS HEART EVENTS

yes his room has mud tracks but consider this this man's WHOLE JOB is to RAISE CHICKENS IN A COOP !!!!! chickens who again he literally invented their breed who track mud shit and drop feed on the floor of the coop he is in all day!!! OF FUCKING COURSE HES GONNA HAVE MUD ON HIS SHOES!!

he works all day for his blue chickens and then just wants to come in and relax playing a video game and drinking a beer if he was a horrible dirty alcoholic like people claim he is he would track mud ALL OVER THE HOUSE AND DIRTY UP ALL THE HOUSE but no its just his tiny hobby room

you as a farmer also work all day on chores and after you are done you also just wanna do something fun to relax and guess what YOU HAVE THE ENTIRE HOUSE EVERY ROOM IN THE HOUSE TO MAKE INTO YOUR HOBBY ROOM some of you fill the house with kegs because you are making it your thing hell one of my farmers who was a witch had an entire room that's just crystals potions and a fucking cauldron , in my Shane save i had a room LINED with fish tanks that was my farmers Hobby, do you think Shane gets mad that i had 4 to 6 fish tanks running all day with puffer fishes and some legendary fishes stinking up the house?? NO because he gets his hobby room and the farmer gets their hobby room everyone keeps to their space period.

i think everyone needs to understand that having a messy hobby room is not a bad thing and that Shane and the other spouses have a right to their own room to look however they want and it doesn't have to match the house

everyone also needs to look at Shane in a better light please I'm begging you to let characters have small flaws and not be squeaky clean perfect

Shane sought help he is helping himself and trying to be better but that doesn't mean he doesn't get to indulge in some guilty pleasures he is human and is aloud to be one even while still in recovery! the difference now is that he HAS CONTROL OVER ALCOHOL AND GAMING CONSUMPTION AND IS NOT SPIRALING OUT OF CONTROL LIKE BEFORE he has job he loves a family he takes care of and he makes sure he doesn't dirty up his entire house but gives himself a break in his ONE room and doesn't stop himself form having fun doing the things he enjoys without over indulging or falling into bad habits.

Edit: i know in the end the drinks are non alcoholic as confirmed by him and i mentioned beer and drinks cause i know there is non alcoholic Versions of them som.. but as i said im adressing the MISSCHARACTERIZATION of shane by the shane haters who didn't go through his heart events hence me saying "you are supposed to learn all this from his heart events" cause they dont go through them :D

Anyway,

in conclusion SHANE IS GOOD SPOUSE, a good man and an inventor in his own right. yall just need to be gentle to him in your judgment cause man is he trying his earnest and that needs to be recognized. i mean look at him look at this healthy man <3

[strangersmunsons]

read 'em and weep #4

you hear some rumors about Eddie.

Chapter 4 Eddie x Bookworm!Reader Series Read Ch. 3 -> Here!

Contains: Eddie x Reader, fem!bookworm!reader, mix of fluff and angst, lots of kisses, reader realizes she may not know as much about Eddie as she thinks she does (but don't worry, they're gonna be fine). Warnings: some nasty remarks are made about Eddie’s reputation. Word Count: ~4.6k I feel bad that all this wait has led to an angstier chapter, but I'm hoping the next part will be written sooner than this one was!

“I disagree.” 

“Look, The Shining is really good, I like it! I just don’t think it’s his best book.”

“I’d take more stock in your opinion if you weren’t putting It at the top of your list. Great book, but such a terrible ending.”

Eddie holds a hand up like he’s swearing an oath. “I’ll admit that it isn’t a perfect book, but it’s still some of the best writing Stephen King’s ever done.” Then he grimaces. “The notable exception being that…one scene in the sewer, um…I don’t really think it needed to be in there.”

Your nose wrinkles in distaste, knowing exactly which scene he’s referring to. “I read that ABC is making a TV show out of it — I’m sure they’ll cut that part out.”

He laughs. “I think he was doing a lot of coke back then.”

Eddie is playing for you chauffeur today. Once again, after a late night he coaxed you into staying over at his place — but instead of just  dropping you at home the next morning and then leaving, he waited patiently for you in your living room while you got cleaned up and changed, before driving you to work.

“Although, now that I’m thinking about it,” he muses, “maybe The Stand is number one for me.”

You concur. “Oooh, good one!”

“Did you know,” he exclaims, suddenly excited, dark eyes shining, “that Ride the Lightning by Metallica is a reference to a line from The Stand?” 

You search for familiarity in the phrase, and don’t find it. “It is?”

“Yeah, there’s a guy on death row who says it when he’s talking about the electric chair. That's why there's a picture of one on the album."

“Huh. Cool.”

Eddie snubs his cigarette out against the library’s exterior brick wall as you fumble with the keys. When the big double-doors are both unlocked, he pulls one open for you, and you kiss him on the cheek as you breeze past. “Thanks. I’ll see you later, okay?” You pause, and reach back to give his hand a final squeeze. “Have a good day!”

Inside, you make it about halfway to the front desk before you realize that the unmistakable sound of Reeboks squeaking against the floor is following you.

You turn around, bewildered and amused. “Can I help you?”

Eddie just shrugs. “This is a public institution. I’m allowed in.”

“I didn’t realize ‘let me drop you off’ meant ‘let me come to work with you.’ Gosh, aren’t you tired of me yet?”

His reply is immediate. “No.”

The incredible thing is, you actually believe him.

You shake your head in awe. “Eddie Munson, you’re really somethin’, you know that?”

He leans in to kiss you one more time, soft and sweet, but you pull away before it can get too heated, keenly aware of the fact that you’re at your place of work, and that making out in full view of the entire — albeit currently empty — library? Probably a bad look.

Just in time, too, as Marissa was apparently not far behind you. You see the doors open again from over Eddie’s shoulder and the older librarian hurries into the building, low heels clacking noisily against the tile. Her face, which is seemingly-always pinched in annoyance, scrunches even further beneath her dark bangs when she realizes you’re not alone. 

“Good morning, Marissa,” you greet her politely.

“We’re technically not open yet,” she spits back, staring pointedly at Eddie. “He can’t be in here.”

You open your mouth to reply, but Eddie beats you to it. “My apologies, ma’am. I was just heading back out.” It’s a remarkably respectful response for Eddie, who you’ve learned has a general distaste for authority, and you know that it’s for your sake. 

He gives you the tiniest wave as he walks away, and you return it with a smile, though your heart pangs with each step that takes him further away from you.

After clocking in you make your escape to the children’s area. It’s practically its own library, in a way — it takes up the whole back corner of the building and then some. Hundreds of thin, colorful books are jam-packed onto the shelves, which are built at an intentionally low height. The floor is covered in deep green carpeting, in contrast to the elegant, black-and-white tile that lies in the main library; all the flat surfaces are topped with stuffed animals and puppets and other baubles for the kids to admire and play with.

In the center of it all, there’s a wide space that’s been cleared out for Story Times and various other programs, which is headed by the overstuffed armchair that you like to read from. A number of miniature tables and stools line the side of the area, which are dotted with neatly-placed baskets of craft supplies. 

You’re pleased with the theme for the day: amongst the books you’ve chosen there are copies of A Bear Called Paddington and Corduroy ready to go. Markers, buttons, googly eyes, and glue have been set out on the tables, so they can make their own little bears for the craft activity. You’ve taken the initiative of cutting out the teddy shapes from heavy cardstock for them already — one less accident with scissors you need to worry about.

You’re nearly finished setting up when someone clears their throat behind you. Startled, you whirl around to see Marissa again.

“Hello,” you greet her in surprise. She usually lets you do your thing on Saturdays without much interruption. Your take in her expression, a little puzzled; the look on her face suddenly makes you feel like you’re in trouble.

She gives you a tight smile, although it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hello, dear. Everything going okay?”

“Ye-es…” Your answer drags out uncertainly. “Almost ready here.” You gesture unnecessarily around the room, unsure of what she’s getting at.

“Good, good,” she nods distractedly, not bothering to look and verify that you’re actually doing your job. “Listen, when you finish up this morning, come and find me. I want to have a little chat with you, alright?” Seeing the panic split across your face, she quickly adds, “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. It’s not work-related.”

Your head cocks to the side curiously, but she spins on her heel and leaves before you can ask her to elaborate.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur, Marissa’s request lurking in the back of your mind all the while, though you try to focus on your reading. She’s not really the warm and fuzzy type — somehow you doubt she’s interested in having a little girl-chat.

Some odd-two hours later, when the last of the kids have scampered away, you head cautiously back to the front desk where Marissa and another young clerk are speaking to one another in low voices.

Your coworker sees you approaching from over Marissa’s shoulder, and gives her a subtle nod, warning the older woman of your presence. A hush falls over their conversation, and you feel a stab of annoyance, knowing intuitively that whatever they were talking about, it certainly had something to do with you. 

She’s already blabbing to your coworkers about whatever this is? Gross. 

Marissa turns to face you, pretending to look surprised at your approach.

“You wanted to see me?” you ask her pleasantly.

Another one of those tight-lipped smiles. “Yes, why don’t you come back here with me.” She moves towards her office, waving for you to follow along. “A little more private in here,” she stage-whispers. 

When you’re alone in the tiny room, she shuts the door behind you, and takes a seat at her desk. You perch awkwardly on one of the folding chairs opposite her, clasping your hands on your lap — you feel a little bit like a wayward student in the principal’s office.

“Is…everything okay?” She said it wasn’t work-related, so you don’t have a clue what’s up. Surely if it was about Eddie being in the building before open, she would have reprimanded you earlier, when you were the only two people there. And that would be considered work-related anyway, wouldn’t it?

Marissa doesn’t answer immediately, so you try to be proactive. “If this is about my friend being here this morning, I’m so sorry about that. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Not…exactly.” She purses her lips, not giving anything away. 

You blink, and try again. “Um, if this is about the oobleck thing again, I promise I was able to get it off the ceiling. You can check, it’s all clean.”

She almost cracks, a rare flash of amusement in her eyes, though it’s snuffed out quickly.

“It’s not that, either. I want to ask you about how things are going, just in general? I know you’re still pretty new to town. Have you been settling in okay these past few months?”

You think of the warm welcome you received from nearly everyone you’ve met. “Yeah, everything’s great. Everyone’s been really nice.”

She nods slowly, and when she speaks again, her tone is off — you can clock the feigned nonchalance right away. “I’ve noticed Eddie Munson has been here quite often this summer.”

You take this as confirmation of what you had already suspected — that Eddie’s frequenting of the library has more to do with you than anything else, and your lips can’t help but turn up into a fond smile.

“He likes to read,” you offer simply.

She’s more direct this time, eyes locking onto yours from behind her thick lenses. “He spends a lot of time talking to you while he’s here.”

Nervous heat starts to creep up your neck and into your cheeks. Is that what this is about? Has the quality of your work declined since Eddie started visiting you here? 

You’ve worried about this before. When your friendship began and he started coming in pretty regularly, you made a point that if Eddie was to be there, the distractions had to be kept to a minimum. He was very understanding about it. And in his defense, he did mostly keep out of your way — he sat and read, and chatted with you when you weren’t busy, or if you happened to be hidden away amongst the shelves working, out of Marissa’s sight. He even helped you clean up the mess left behind by your Storytime kids. But you suppose he had been a presence nonetheless.

Waiting for the hammer to fall, you bow your head. Your job is very important to you — as much as you like Eddie, you don’t want to jeopardize your position or your standing with your boss by having her think you’re boy-crazy. Guiltily, your mind scrambles to find the words for an apology, some promise to do better in the future.

But Marissa doesn’t even go there. And what she says instead startles you right out of your self-deprecating spiral.

“Do you know about Eddie Munson?”

Your head pops back up in surprise, and you stare at her blankly, confused. “Know…what about him?”

“Listen, you’re a nice girl,” she simpers. “You’re a stellar employee — I wouldn’t want anyone else leading Family and Youth Services here. I think you have a lot of potential, and I don’t want you to squander it by getting involved with the wrong sort of people.”

Offense rises in your throat like bile. “Excuse me?”

She holds her hands up in defense. “I’m just trying to look out for your best interests, dear,” she insists. “The Munsons have a reputation in this town — that young man especially —”

“Marissa,” your tone is sharp; she’s treading into dangerous territory. 

“He’s a criminal,” she warns. “Jim Hopper is far too soft on him. If he actually got in trouble for every law he broke, he’d be sitting in a jail cell right now.”

You gape at her. “What has he done?” you demand. 

Marissa sighs, and takes her glasses off, setting them aside while she massages the bridge of her nose tiredly. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this” — you note that she doesn’t really sound sorry at all — “but he is a drug dealer, and a Satanist, amongst other things. He sells dope to kids and he all but started a cult when he was in high school. The oldest senior in Indiana, by the way,” she adds derisively.

You’re speechless.

She pushes on. “His father was a deadbeat, and in all the time that Eddie Munson has been living in Hawkins, all he’s done is prove that the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, fuming. Her audacity is too appalling for you to have any real reaction to the accusations; and regardless of whether or not those rumors are true, this certainly doesn’t feel like an appropriate way for you to find out about them. 

You take a deep breath, and choose your words carefully. “Respectfully, who I choose to associate with outside of work is no one’s business but my own. If you feel like my relationship with him is infringing upon my performance here, then by all means, tell me where I’m lacking, and I’ll improve. But please do not sit here and try to convince me to shun my friend because —” you falter, trying to keep your anger in check, “because of your personal feelings towards him.”

Because you’re a Grade-A bitch who listens to small town gossip.

Marissa settles back in her seat, face impassive. She purses her lips. “Alright. I see your point. But don’t be upset, dear, I’m really only trying to help you.”

“I appreciate your concern,” you lie through gritted teeth.

“But before you make your mind up about him too quickly,” she adds, examining her fingernails casually, “ask him about Chrissy Cunningham.” Her eyes dart slyly up to yours, searching for any hint of recognition at the name.

There isn’t any — you’ve never heard of this person — but there’s an odd swooping sensation in your stomach at the mention of Eddie possibly being involved with another girl. It makes you feel sort of…ill. 

But you won’t let your face betray your surprise. You keep your expression neutral, composed. You manage a final nod at Marissa, and rise to leave. She doesn’t say anything to stop you, so you take that as your cue to exit the office, your mind swirling with unanswered questions.

Across town, at the Munson trailer, a Dungeons and Dragons session is set to begin any minute. Dustin Henderson has arrived early with snacks, and is making himself all too comfortable on the squashy sofa.

Hellfire Club had still gone on strong three years after Eddie’s miraculous, long-awaited graduation, due to the combined efforts of the small group of freshmen he recruited in his last year. And it will continue to do so even now that they’re gone, thanks to one Erica Sinclair, who is rumored to be the most brutal Dungeons and Dragons player in the entire Midwest…after Eddie, of course.

Despite the fact that he remained in Hawkins, and that Dustin often begged him to join them, Eddie had respectfully bowed out of any and all Hellfire-related activities after graduating, in an effort to display a modicum of maturity. He didn’t want to be that guy hanging around his old high school because he didn’t have anything better to do.

But as a favor to his favorite kid, Eddie’s DMing their summer campaign as a last hurrah. Just Wheeler, Henderson, Sinclair, and a slightly newer addition — Will Byers, who came after his time, but seems a nice enough kid. It gives the boys a chance to all play together one last time before they part ways.

Eddie hopes they manage to stay friends, despite it all.

“Thanks, Henderson, but I think I’ve got a handle on things,” Eddie says sarcastically.

Dustin gives him an annoyingly-superior look. “I’m just saying, Suzie and I have been in a loving relationship for many years now — if you need any dating advice, I’m your guy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms. “Dude, she’s spent almost all the time you’ve known her across the country in Mormonland.” 

Purely defensive. He hates to admit it, but Dustin’s right. He and Suzie’s relationship has lasted for a far, far longer time than any fling Eddie’s ever had. But that doesn’t mean he’s gonna sit down and let the little twerp talk to him like he knows something about something.

Little — Dustin Henderson is college-bound, heading off to some fancy private school on a merit scholarship, leaving Hawkins and grabbing life by the balls. He might still be a shrimpy dork, but Eddie’s secretly mourning the impending loss of his young friend.

“So,” continues Dustin, chomping on a Twizzler, lounging back against the cushions, “when do I get to meet her?”

Eddie chuckles, yanking the candy bag across the couch towards himself. “Uh, I don’t know. Whenever she wants to, I guess.”

Dustin snickers. “Would you be mad if I just showed up at her job and ambushed her?”

Eddie cuts his eyes over to the younger boy, wry smirk on his lips. “To be honest, I’m kind of surprised you haven’t done that already.”

“I haven’t been reading much this summer,” Dustin admits. “Too busy trying to cram in a bunch of stuff before we all…” he trails off, gaze growing distant. 

“Yeah,” Eddie mutters back. He’s been there.

Dustin coughs. “Anyway, you should invite her to meet us at Benny’s after this. You said you’re picking her up from work, right?”

Eddie thinks it over for a moment, then shrugs. “Sure. I’ll ask her.”

The rickety front door swings open, a trio of laughing teenage boys barging in without bothering to knock. Tall, gangling Mike; Lucas, smiling in his letterman jacket; and Will, hanging back shyly, clutching his player’s handbook.

Eddie can’t help but grin. Dustin cocks an eyebrow at them.

“You assholes ready or what?”

Throughout the entire day, you think about what Marissa told you. 

Yes, you’re angry at her for somehow thinking that would be an appropriate conversation for the two of you to have. Yes, you’re upset to hear her say such disparaging things about someone you’ve known to be nothing but sweet and kind. It feels like such an injustice, that Eddie be subjected to such cruel remarks. 

But still, there’s a sliver of uncertainty in your heart now, a dark cloud looming in the distance of yours and Eddie’s budding relationship. 

When your shift ends, you linger outside by the doors, waiting for Eddie to pick you up. A tiny part of you regrets the decision to let him bring you in to work, but you try and shake the feeling away.

You hate that you’re feeling this way. Internally, you scold yourself for letting Marissa’s words get to you. Why should you listen to what she says, anyway? Don’t you trust that you know him better than she does?

Do you believe Eddie to be a devil-worshipping cult leader? Certainly not. Eddie is a far cry away from what the media makes guys like him out to be. He’s not violent, or practicing any Satanic rituals; he just happens to like scary music and think that fantasy games are cool.

Do you believe Eddie to be a drug dealer? Well, that one, maybe…

Do you believe Eddie to have some sordid past — or, more worryingly, present — with someone named Chrissy Cunningham?

Before you can decide what to think about her, the sound of a wailing guitar drifts through the air, getting louder and louder — finally, a familiar green and white van is turning the corner, Eddie’s dark head, visible through the open windows, bobbing up and down in time with the music.

“Hey!” he shouts with a grin as he approaches the curb, yelling so as to be heard over the noise. With some effort, you smile back. He lowers the tape so it plays at a more bearable volume, as you open the door and climb into the passenger seat.

“Hi,” you greet him.

He leans across the center consol to give you a kiss, one calloused hand cupping your cheek. You can his smell cologne, the sweat beaded on his neck, and a faint smokiness clinging to his curls, you suppose, from his last cigarette; these, combined with how soft and plush his lips feel against yours push the thought of Chrissy Cunningham temporarily from your mind, along with any other thought you may have potentially had in this moment.

Eddie pecks at your lips again and again, then settles back in his seat, letting his hand fall onto your knee. “How was work?”

You squirm uneasily. “It was fine,” you half-lie, not sure what you should tell him. 

“Kids behaving?” he asks.

“About as much as I could expect them to,” you sigh.

Eddie gazes at you, his dark eyes curious; you’re normally much more upbeat than this when you see him after a long day. His face brightens when he remembers what he wanted to ask you, thinking that it may cheer you up. “Well, it’s all over with now, right? You’re free. And I had an idea, if you’re up for it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he explains, “I was thinking, I can take you home, or — if you want — you can come get dinner at Benny’s with me and the guys?” He smiles hopefully. “The others are on their way there already. They’re dorks, but they’re good kids, and Dustin has been bugging me to bring you around.”

You think it over. Admittedly, you’ve been dying to see how Eddie acts around his teenage friends. And maybe this is just what you need to dispel your discomfort; a night out with Eddie and his pals, surrounded by people who know and love him.

Eddie senses your hesitation. “We won’t be out too long,” he reassures you, “because I’m working tonight. But still, no pressure if you’re not up for it.”

He leaves the choice up to you, but he’s giving you the puppy dogs. You nod, giving in. “Okay,” you agree. “Sounds like fun.”

Being crammed in a diner booth with five other guys isn’t normally your idea of comfortable, but their raucous laughter and boyish antics make it just that — comfortable. You’re pushed up against the wall, with Eddie pressed into your side, one tatted arm slung over your shoulder. Dustin sits opposite you, with Will and Lucas; Mike occupies the last seat next to Eddie. 

The affection between the younger boys is tangible; this is a group of friends who have known each other a long, long time. They all talk at once, interrupting and speaking over one another, unless someone shoots a question at you, in which case, Eddie holds up a hand to silence them all, so your response can be heard.

Eddie interjects every so often, arguing playfully and poking fun at them, but he mostly watches with amusement, letting them carry the bulk of the conversation. It’s funny; he has the air of a cool uncle about him, the one who supervises carefully but also lets you sneak a sip from his can of beer when no one’s looking.

More than once, you notice Eddie glancing sidelong at you, watching your reaction to the spectacle before you. He smiles when you catch him, and squeezes your thigh under the table. 

“So you woke up early to take her to work, ran D and D all day, and now you’re going to work a late shift? Are you planning on going to sleep on top of the bar?” Dustin is staring at Eddie in disbelief.

Eddie shrugs. “I sleep all day on Sunday.” He suddenly flicks a french fry at Dustin across the table. “What can I say? I’m extremely devoted to all of you,” he says sarcastically.

“One of us, anyway,” snickers Lucas, nodding his head at you.

“And don’t you forget it,” Eddie replies sternly, tightening the arm he has around you, holding you as closely as the cramped space permits. Without an ounce of shame or embarrassment, he leans in and smacks a wet kiss to your forehead.

A chorus of “oooh”s erupts, along with one “gross!” and you can’t stop the happy smile from unfurling across your face. 

In this greasy diner booth surrounded by teenage boys, with Eddie so unabashedly declaring his affection for you, the pressure that’s been weighing on your chest since this morning dissipates almost completely.

“Ask him about Chrissy Cunningham.”

Almost.

The car ride home is quiet. Eddie has foregone his metal tapes, and instead lets the radio softly crackle out a tune from The Cure. Normally he’d switch the station in distaste, but something about it tonight just feels right. 

“You’re just like a dream…you’re just like a dream…”

You’re gazing out the window, seemingly lost in thought. He can’t stop sneaking looks at you, at the way your lips are parted, the slight furrow to your brow. He wants to kiss the worry-line away. 

“Everything okay?” 

Your eyes refocus on him, and you give him a half-smile. “Everything’s okay,” you tell him, looking back down again, twiddling your thumbs.

There’s a hitch in your voice that concerns him. “Tired?” he asks hesitantly, unsure if he should press the issue.

“Yeah, kind of. Things were…a little overwhelming today, I guess.”

Eddie frowns. “They should give you a helper or something. That’s a lot to deal with by yourself, even if it’s only for an hour or two.” He pulls up to the curb in front of your house, engine idling. Then he moves in for another kiss, gentler than any other he’s given you today. 

After just a few moments, you’re the one to break it, pulling back ever so slightly and leaving him wanting.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you whisper, breath ghosting over his lips. You’re already reaching behind you for the door handle.

Eddie's caught off guard by the speed of your goodbye. “Goodnight,” he replies, dazed, sad to see you wrenching the door open so quickly, without the usual lingering kisses and touches he adores. 

You hop out and he watches your retreating back as you tread across the sidewalk towards the house. He leans over the center consol, towards the open passenger window. “Sweetheart?” he calls out.

You turn back to face him. “Yeah?”

He makes a come-hither motion with two ringed fingers. “Come here for a second.”

You double back and make your way around the vehicle, so you’re standing on the other side of Eddie’s door. With your arms propped against the sill of his window, you lean against the van, letting it support your weight.

You look at him expectantly, waiting.

He reaches out and touches your face, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone, savoring the feeling of your skin underneath the rough pads of his fingers.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight. I know I sort of sprung it on you,” he says apologetically.

You smile at him, warm though tinged with a sadness he can’t put his finger on. “I had fun. You’re right — they are nice boys.” 

Eddie sighs, still tracing your flesh. “Could I trouble you for one more kiss?” he asks quietly, blushing cheeks dimpling. “For the road?”

To his relief, you seem to melt a little, swaying lightly on your feet as you hold onto the sill and oblige him. 

Eddie’s other hand molds to the back of your head, cradling it in his palm as he kisses you one last time, urgency pervading all his senses, as though he might not get another.

When he releases you he's breathless, and he rests his forehead against yours for a moment, letting your noses rub together. Finally, he relaxes back in the seat.

“Get some sleep, honey,” he says.

thank you for reading!! <3

taglist: @eddiesgirlforever, @eds6ngel, @sheisahauntedhouse, @lokis-tardis-companion19, @teary-eyed-egg, @whenshelanded, @nanaminswhore, @witchwolflea, @kores-mun-son-n-more

[thebibliosphere]

In true ADHD fashion, we finished the bathroom renovation 24 hours before visitors come to stay for a week. It's still not entirely done. I need to go around the room and clean up the edges when I have time, but I have neither the steadiness of hand nor the mental capacity for that right now. I did get the trim done, though. So yay. Victory.

I've since spent the last 16 hours cleaning my entire house from top to bottom to get rid of the construction debris and dust that's been plaguing us for almost 6+ weeks.

Guest rooms are all done (mine and Mothman's offices. Going to be weird not having access to my desktop for 10 days).

The bathroom is mostly clean. I just have to give Holly a bath because she's got a crunchy beard situation going on, then wipe the tub down of whatever horrors fall out of said doggy beard.

The kitchen is truly disgusting, from everyone carting everything out to the dumpster from the bathroom renovation. I'd be half tempted to take a magic erase to it if I didn't think the whole floor would vanish. Time to test the limits of my ten year old steam mop.

The living room needs vacuuming. Again.

Our bedroom looks like a bomb went off. There's just stuff everywhere. Not to mention a shit ton of laundry. I plan to shove it all in the machine before we go to bed so I can then shove it in the dryer over breakfast before we head to the grocery store in the morning and then pick my friends up from the airport.

I think... I think that's it. I say. Like I'm not swaying slightly.

Maybe I should prioritize our bedroom. Maybe get Mothman to bath the Moppet. Yeah. Plan. All right, good talk Tumblr.