#But its almost always cold and rainy here

[murdercamelinplacesitshouldntbe]

murder camel shoulsnt be becoming a leaf!

Its becoming rainy and cold here again how is your fall bein?

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Summary: It's time to move on. You're not sure where you're going exactly, but anywhere is better than Texas

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,811 words

Warnings: ANGST, injuries, medical stuff, descriptions of pain and injuries, brief discussion about strangulation, mentions of PTSD and nightmares, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, a very little sprinkle of comfort, language, mentions of medications, still very heavy emotionally

A/N: Not actually a lot of warnings for this one. It's a lot of dialogue and inner monologues. Not a lot happens, just mostly setting the scene for the next chunk of the story. Bring tissues though, the last part of the chapter emotionally wrecked me but also might be the best thing I've ever written.

11/30/24: **This Chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

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It’s warm outside. 

Not even the shade from the building can completely shield you from the dome of heat that seems to surround the base. It seeps into the concrete and asphalt that lock it into place, trapping everyone in a bubble that may as well be an oven. It’s always hot in Texas, though. You hate it. You’ve been spoiled by the cold, rainy seasons in England. You’d gladly take that over Texas. 

You’d take anything over Texas. 

The heat prickles at your skin, your arm starting to get sweaty in the sling. It had been Dr. Keller’s idea to keep your shoulder as still as possible so you don’t continue to cause yourself pain when you move. It still hurts, but at least you won’t instinctively try to use your left arm now.

Despite the warmth, there’s still a chill deep in your bones. The warmth of the pain medicine has worn off and you’ve been left with the perpetual ice that has seemed to coat your insides. Dr. Keller says it's the stress giving you a fever. Every nightmare, every flashback sends your body temperature spiking, your heart beating right out of your chest. You’re not out of the woods yet. It can take a long time to recover from that level of distress and the omega taking over. You almost regret it, but there was no guarantee you would have lived either way at that time. You did what you had to do, and it did work out in the end. 

But at what cost? 

Dr. Keller’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she pulls it out, staring down at the screen for a moment. “Kyle wants to come by.” 

You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to see any of them. 

“I think you should see him. Even if it’s just for a moment.” She squeezes your hand. “I’ll be right here.” 

It’s a predicament. Dr. Keller supports your decision to keep them away, putting some distance between all of you for the time being. Yet, she also says being close to your pack will help your healing. Having your pack around will help your omega settle once again. She needs that safety, that security before she finally lets go completely. 

You don’t want to be close to them, but you may not have any other choice. 

You sit there in silence, picking at the fabric of your sweatpants as you wait for Kyle’s arrival. Sweat has started to bead on your back, the day only getting warmer and warmer as the sun moves higher in the sky. You want to go back inside, back into the cool air conditioned building. You want to crawl back onto the hospital bed and lay there for the next few hours. 

You can’t. 

Footsteps approach, but you don’t look up. You know who it is. You don’t want to see him. 

“Kyle.” Dr. Keller greets. 

“Christine.” He says back. It still throws you off, hearing Dr. Keller's first name. She'll always be Dr. Keller to you. Kyle turns his attention to you, still standing a few steps from the bench you're perched on. ���Hi, love.” He says. The affectionate nickname almost makes you wince. You don't look up at him. You don’t want to see his face. “I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.” 

You don't move, don't give an answer. You don't have an answer to give anyway. You shouldn't have to give an answer. 

He lowers himself onto the bench, sitting as far away from you as he can. “It’s hot today.” He says, adjusting his hat. Always wearing a hat. Maybe that's why he and Price work so well together. 

He stares at you for a long moment but you don't bother moving, your gaze still on your sweatpants. They're starting to get a bit warm, even with your perpetual chill. 

“I’m not here to apologize.” He says, breaking the silence. “You’ve probably heard enough apologies to last you a lifetime.” He shakes his head. “Words can’t fix what we did. Nothing can fix what we did. All we can do is give you what you need, try and make you as comfortable as possible.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you listen to him. He's not wrong, an apology won't fix what happened. No words will ever be able to fix what they put you through. You're not sure there's anything they could do that would make up for it. An apology still would have been nice, despite the fact you know how guilty he is. Their avoidance of you, their willingness to give you such space in an unknown place just proves how guilty they all are. 

That doesn't make things hurt any less. 

You slowly turn away from Kyle, angling yourself towards Dr. Keller. 

He doesn't say anything further in that regard, taking your movement as an answer to his non-apology. He leans forward instead, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re getting ready to leave soon. We’ll be heading somewhere safe, somewhere quiet and secluded. I think you’ll like it.” 

Dr. Keller had informed you of that earlier after she went to speak to them. They've decided what to do, what's best for the pack again. You might have protested, except for the fact it meant you were getting to leave Texas. Where exactly they're taking you, you're not sure. You just know it's not Texas. 

“I want you to know that we’re here if you need us.” He stares at you for a moment longer before pushing himself up to stand. 

If, not when. 

Maybe they're finally getting the message. 

Dr. Keller stands, touching your right shoulder gently before she steps away with Kyle, speaking quietly with him, but you can still hear every word in the nearly silent space around you. 

“In an attempt to remain a neutral, professional party in this situation, I feel it would be appropriate for me to tell you not to beat yourself up too much about this.” Dr. Keller says. “The unprofessional side of me has many words I’d like to say to all of you.” She clears her throat. “That being said, on a positive note I can say you’re all doing the right thing for once, prioritizing your omega and fulfilling her needs, even if her needs require you to leave her alone for now. I know it’s hard, I know every instinct is screaming at you to help her, but just take comfort in knowing you are helping her. You’re doing the best thing you can do for her at this time.” Dr. Keller puts a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “Even if it is tearing you up inside.” 

“Thanks, Doc.” He says. 

“I’ll see you soon.” She says, patting his arm before she heads back towards your bench. 

You turn your head just slightly, not missing the way Gaz lingers for a brief moment before he turns his back on you, walking back down the sidewalk. 

It hurts. 

You want to cry with every swallow. No matter how much you chew, it doesn’t ease the pain of trying to swallow solid food. Even the worst sore throat you’ve ever had pales in comparison to this pain. Tears burn in your eyes as you eat, unable to refuse this time in favor of choking down some liquid nutrients. Even liquids make your throat ache, but they are easy to chug to get it over with at once. 

This feels like torture. 

Dr. Keller looks guilty as she spoon-feeds you the soup. Chicken noodle, something simple and easy but still something with some substance. It makes you think back to when you were sick as a child, your mother dutifully feeding you homemade chicken noodle soup until you reached the age you could feed yourself. 

You do feel like a child again, unable to even hold the spoon. Well, you could hold it, but it would have come at the expense of some burns from how badly your hand was shaking. 

So instead you sit here, being spoon-fed soup you can barely stand eating. 

“I know.” She says as a tear finally falls, your inhale shaky from the ache in your throat. “You need something in your system for the sedative. It’s a long flight and you’ll be sick when you wake up if you don’t have anything in your stomach. That’s going to hurt a lot worse than eating now.” 

Yeah. You’ve already figured that out. 

“Strangulation is a tough thing to survive.” She says, dragging the bottom of the spoon against the edge of the bowl to wipe off any soup that might drip on you. “Then again, so is getting shot, and distressing to the point of your omega taking over.” She holds the spoon up to your lips, and you’re tempted to refuse. “You’ve survived a lot, more than most could. And to look this good after...” 

You blink up at her, teary eyed and sickly looking, exhausted and bruised. Your left eye is still almost swollen shut, and your hair is tangled perhaps beyond saving, tied up in a bun at the top of your head. All just reminders of what you survived, all reminders of what happened to you. Of what was allowed to happen to you. 

You’re not quite sure when the last time you had a real shower was either. 

“I know.” She says, spooning more soup into your mouth. “You might not feel like it, right now.” 

“I want a shower.” You say, your voice still hoarse and cracking through your throat. A real shower might solve a lot of problems for you right now. It won’t fix much, but being truly clean would make a lot of things feel better. 

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Dr. Keller says. 

You give her a look. You don't smell that bad. She should know, she’s the one that cleaned the blood off of you and the one who gave you the sponge bath this morning. 

She gives you a look back. “I meant it would be nice to take a real shower. Once we get where we’re going, we can work on the logistics of a shower.” 

Right. You can’t exactly stand for a long time on your own, not to mention the problem of only being able to use one arm without bringing blinding pain upon yourself. That’s where the pack would come in handy. 

The thought of one of them seeing you vulnerable like that, putting their hands on you right now makes your skin crawl. 

A shiver runs down your spine, your body shuddering uncontrollably. You grunt as your shoulder screams in pain, another electric jolt burning straight through your nerves and down through your feet. Fuck. You mouth the word, squeezing your eyes shut. It makes your stomach churn, the soup starting to burn a path back up through your esophagus.

“Breathe for me.” Dr. Keller says, putting a gentle hand on your right shoulder. 

In and out. You focus on your breath, the only thing you can do without feeling like you’re going to go insane from the pain. It’s all you can do in this situation. It’s the only thing you can do at all. Breathe. Just keep breathing. 

Sometimes you don’t want to. 

The pain passes as it always does, leaving behind a subtle ache that will linger until the next flare of pain. It’s a constant, never-ending cycle that you can’t escape from. Weeks, Dr. Keller had said. It can take weeks to heal. You’ll be stuck in this cycle for weeks and weeks. What if it never heals? That is a possibility. It’s always a risk with any injury. 

What if the rest of your life is like this? 

You’re crying again, hot tears blazing a path down your cheeks. They won’t stop, they never stop. There’s a constant stream down your face, even in your sleep. You’ve woken to find your face and neck damp from the never ceasing flood of tears. 

How you can’t wait for the time to come when you have none left.

You’d welcome the numbness at this point, greet it like an old friend and invite it in for tea. Anything over the pain and tears that won’t stop. The depression-fueled numbness that had filled you when Price and Gaz left, then Soap and Ghost would be a welcome relief at this point. Anything would be better than the pain. 

You almost wish you were in a coma right now. Then you wouldn’t feel anything at all. 

Dr. Keller puts the spoon back into the soup bowl before rolling the table to the side. She puts a hand on your head, gently stroking your hair as you cry. The room is silent aside from your sniffles, Dr. Keller not having to say a single word. The silence is almost a blessing. You’re tired of hearing words, of hearing people speak. There’s nothing anyone can say that will do anything to help you, to comfort you, to make it better. 

There’s nothing anyone can do to make it better. 

You’re so tired of being like this. 

The sedative is kicking in before you even reach the airfield. She can see the way your head is drooping further and further forward in the car, your body jostling without any complaint. It had started kicking in before you even got into the car, as you offered very little resistance when Kyle helped her mauver you into the front seat. She chose Kyle out of everyone to help her in hopes it would be easiest on you. Your claimed alpha’s beta is a good place to start in rebuilding the bonds within the pack, and his calm demeanor certainly helps. He is a caretaker through and through, that beta trait prominent above the others in him. He would have made a good medic, had he gone that route. 

Your chin drops to your chest as the car comes to a stop in front of the plane, your body slumping to the side against the door. 

“She’s out.” Christine says, unbuckling her seatbelt. 

“Makes this easier.” Kyle says, getting out of the car. 

They maneuver you into the wheelchair, Christine easing your head onto your right shoulder to avoid aggravating the left. The less pain you’re in when you come out of it, the better, though pain will be unavoidable. Kyle pushes the wheelchair up the ramp of the plane, Christine following close behind. She’s glad she gave you the sedative before you left the med center to avoid as much pain as possible. She almost wishes she had given it to you earlier, as getting you into a sweatshirt had been a battle of its own. Though, the longer it stays in your system, the longer you’ll sleep through the flight. The longer you sleep through the flight, the longer they can delay the inevitable emotional storm of being enclosed in a tight space with your pack. 

If you’re lucky, you’ll be out of it long enough for them to reach the cottage without incident. 

John is waiting near the front of the aircraft, his eyes watching carefully as Kyle helps maneuver you into a seat. Even with the turmoil in the pack bonds, an alpha will always feel protective over their omega. There’s some things that can’t be undone, even in such a fragile state. Some instincts can’t be unlearned, no matter what. 

“I gave her a sedative.” Christine explains as she gets you as comfortable as possible in the seat. “It won’t last the whole flight, but it’ll take a while to wear off regardless.” 

“Is that more for her or for us?” John asks. 

“Both.” Christine says. “Mostly for her. It helps with the pain of moving around, but it will also keep her calm in close quarters like this.” 

“Here.” John says, handing her something. It’s a blanket, brand new by the feel of it. “Johnny made a store run this morning. It’s going to get cold in here, so he got the warmest one he could find.” 

Christine takes the blanket, the fabric thick and soft in her hands. It’s a touching gesture, speaking volumes of their desire to still care for you despite everything, their willingness to do what they have to, to keep the pack together. “Perfect.” She says, carefully draping it over you and tucking it around you before John gets you secured in the seat. 

“It’s going to be a long flight.” John says, taking a step back. 

“It is.” Christine says, pulling out her thermometer. She takes your temperature, letting out a hum at the number that pops up on screen. “I need to monitor her temperature.” She explains as John gives her a look. “It’s been spiking when she gets stressed.” 

“She's not quite out of it yet, is she?” John asks.

“Not quite.” She says, putting the thermometer back in her bag. “I’ve only seen two omegas successfully come back from that point, and I know the number across the board isn’t very high. It takes a long time for the body and the brain to get back to normal.” 

“And on top of everything that happened...” 

She stares up at him for a long moment. “She’s very strong. I knew she was a fighter, but to come out the other side even where she is now...” Christine shakes her head. “I didn’t want to say this at the time, but I was expecting the worst. When that call came in about what state she was in...” She bites her lip, holding the emotions back. “Her resilience and fortitude is what kept her alive. That and Simon’s courage to do what needed to be done.” 

“I know.” John says, looking past her. “We all owe a lot to him.” 

Christine puts a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re doing what’s best for her. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much it goes against every instinct you have, it’s what she needs.” 

“That’s all that matters to us right now.” John says, staring down at her hand for a moment. “There’s nothing else we can do, so it’s time we start putting our priorities where they should have been the whole time.” 

Christine gives him a small smile. “I’m proud of you for that. It takes a lot to unlearn the things you’ve been told since the beginning.” 

The corner of John’s lips twitch before his face falls into the emotionless mask he’s been wearing for the last few days. “It’s about time we get our heads out of our arses.” 

“I can’t blame you totally.” She shrugs. “We were all just doing what the initiative was telling us to do. We couldn’t have known. There wasn’t any room to question it.” 

“I wish we would have figured it out sooner.” He sighs. 

“Things might have been worse if the truth did come out sooner. If you started digging into the initiative too soon, Shepherd might have gotten antsy and taken more drastic measures to stop the truth from coming out entirely.” She glances down at you. “I think this was all inevitable.” She turns her gaze back to John. “What happened, happened. None of us can change that. All we can do is keep moving forward with what we have right now.” 

He stares at her for a long moment. “The more time passes, the more I’ve come to realize why Kate chose you for this position.” 

The corner of her lips turns up in a smile. “Well, I am rather good at my job, which, among other things, involves advocating on behalf of omegas.” 

John huffs. “Wish we would have listened sooner.” 

“You can’t change the past.” She repeats, looking down at you again. “But you can change the future.” 

You woke from your sedation about four hours from Helston. 

Well, ’woke’ might have been too strong of a word for it. Your eyes opened, but you were still hazy, movements sluggish and entirely unaware of the world around you. You floated between sleep and awareness for an hour before finally gaining consciousness completely. Awareness took quite a while to return, though. Not until they were moving you to the car from the plane. 

Even still you’re groggy, slumped against the door in the back seat of the car. You blink slowly, eyes unfocused as you stare out the window at the blur of green passing by. 

“How is she?” John asks from the driver's seat, glancing up at the rearview mirror. 

“Cow.” You say, blinking slowly as the car passes a field of cows. 

“Still out of it.” Christine answers from the back seat where she's sitting next to you. Your response might have been enough to answer that. “Better than being in pain, though.” 

“How long will it take for her to get out of it?” Kyle asks. 

“Hopefully she’ll be more lucid by the time we get there, but it could take a few hours for it to completely wear off.” Christine says, wiping a bit of drool from your chin. “Probably not a bad thing. This is a big change, and with everything that’s happened, it’s going to take some time to settle in.” 

“Things are going to be rough.” Kyle says. 

“Yes.” She agrees. “Being enclosed in a small space with the people you want to see the least in the world isn’t an ideal situation. It’ll be an adjustment for everyone. I trust all of your abilities to adapt, though. Just don't go in expecting things to be the way they were.”

John's hands tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. Kyle cracks his window open, prepared for the thickening of John's scent in the air. Christine knows she hit a nerve, but it needed to be said. Even if you were open to forgiveness right now, even if they had chosen to go after you right away, things still wouldn't be the same. Things won't ever be the same. It is their fault deep at the root of it. Those cameras were put up because of them, you were taken because of them. You were chosen for the “initiative” because of them, because Kate thought you'd fit in well with them. Their decisions shaped your life, and will continue to shape your life. 

Can you ever come to forgive them? Christine likes to think so. She has the hope that they can put in the work and regain your trust and earn eventual forgiveness. She knows you'll allow them to try once the initial hurt and emotions begin to fade, once the two of you put in enough work to start processing the trauma around the events that happened. It will take time. Probably a long time. 

She'll be there every step of the way. 

“Ashley did some shopping for us, picked up some stuff to get us until we can get into town.” Kyle says, looking at his phone. 

“Good.” John says, his shoulders starting to relax. “Should wait a couple days before going. Get settled in.”

“She's still working on cleaning up. Probably still be there when we get there.” Kyle says, putting his phone back in his pocket. 

“That's fine. We’ll probably have to utilize her a bit.” 

“Doubt she'll complain.” Kyle says, looking out the window. “Be thrilled to have something to do besides work.” 

You let out a quiet groan, shifting against the door. “Hurts.” 

“I know, honey.” Christine says, carefully adjusting your left arm. “I’ll give you more pain meds once we get to the cottage.” 

“We’ll be there in half an hour.” John says, glancing up at the rearview mirror again before turning his eyes back to the road. 

The half hour seems to take the longest as you continue to become more and more lucid and aware. The pain sets in first, your brain picking up on those signals before anything else. John’s knuckles are white around the steering wheel as you begin to whine and whimper around every bend in the road and turn he has to make, every jostle of the car. Every instinct in his body tells him to pull over and comfort you, but he can’t. It’s more important to get to the cottage, and there’s no guarantee you’d even let him. It might make things worse. 

The last thing you need right now is for things to get worse. 

Christine breathes a sigh of relief as they pull up to the cottage, glad she can finally get you somewhere more comfortable. You’ve been in far too many uncomfortable positions today, moved around too much. She would have liked to keep you in Texas a couple more days, but she knew as soon as you were able to travel, the better. The sooner they could get off the grid, the better. 

The sooner they could get out of Texas, the better. 

Kyle is getting the wheelchair out of the trunk when Johnny and Simon pull up, not having been far behind. They likely took a turn around the back roads to ensure no one was following and to keep things from looking too suspicious. 

Christine keeps you from slumping out of the car as she carefully opens the door on your side. You’re more awake than you were, blinking up at her with almost startlingly aware eyes.

“Crutch.” You pout when she pulls the wheelchair closer. 

She gives you a look. “Honey I'm not sure you could even stand right now.” You may be more aware, but that doesn’t mean your body is working as it should.

You let out a defiant noise as you attempt to get your legs out of the car, trying to hide your grunts of pain and discomfort. 

She's tempted to stand there and let you try, but she knows all hell will break loose if she lets you fall. She's not willing to take that risk, not to mention it will cause you more pain to get you up off the ground. 

“Come on,” She says, stopping you before you can get your feet under you. “Nice and slow.” 

You let out a quiet growl of indignation but you allow her to help you, your legs trembling as she eases you up. Kyle is there with the wheelchair, getting it as close to you as possible so she can sit you down quickly. 

“Ow.” You breathe, eyes pinched closed as you breathe through the pain. 

“I know.” She says, patting your good shoulder lightly. She's glad she put you in the sweatshirt before you left Texas. It's chilly outside, chillier than it was further inland a few days ago. 

It's hard to believe it's only been a few days since you were taken. Barely even a week. So much happened in such a short period of time. It feels like it’s been weeks since everything started, but then again, it had been weeks since John and Kyle first left. It had been weeks since you had been around your whole pack together by the time you were taken. The deep depression you sunk into before the events of the last week had been draining you slowly for weeks before this. It had started before John and Kyle were deployed, back to that day when you revealed the cameras and the secret you had been hiding from them. 

How long you’ve gone in such turmoil. 

How far you still have to go. 

The path up to the door is rocky and uneven, the wheelchair jostling as she pushes it up towards the door. She can picture your face, the way it has to be screwed up in pain. You're silent though, holding it all in. She almost wishes you weren't being silent about it. 

The door is already open, light shining from inside as she approaches. Kyle is in the house already, having gone ahead to greet his sister. John is right behind the two of you as Christine turns to wheel you up the steps into the house. His eyes are on you, focused and ready should you fall.  

Christine would never let you fall, and from the way your hand is gripping the arm of the chair for dear life, you probably couldn't anyway. 

She wheels you through the entryway, the inside warmer thanks to a fire that's burning. It's a nice cottage, far nicer than she had been expecting judging from the outside. 

Johnny lets out a low whistle as he enters behind John, looking around. “Yer parents own this?” 

“It was given to our mum by our grandparents. They did some...renovations before they passed it on.” Kyle says. 

“Yer tellin’ me.” Johnny says. 

It looks new inside. New wood floors, freshly painted walls. The furniture looks like she would expect to find in an English seaside cottage, though. Kyle’s parents went to France for summer vacation instead of utilizing the cottage, and none of his siblings had wanted to use it, he told them. It looks almost perfect, like it came right out of a home renovation show. Kyle’s sister must have worked some sort of magic to get it this clean. 

It is a very nice cottage. It’s small, the door opening right to the main area. There’s two couches and a chair in the middle of the room around a coffee table. To the left of the couches is a fireplace, the fire already lit and crackling. It looks original, likely having been untouched in the renovations. There’s a door to the left of the fireplace closer to the main entryway. A bedroom maybe? To the right of the front door are two doors, one on the far wall and one facing the front door. 

The stairs are in the middle of the house, leading up to the second floor where there’s likely more bedrooms. On the far side of the main area is the dining area and beyond that is a sliding glass door. Around the corner on the far side of the stairs is likely the kitchen. She can see the fridge from where she’s standing. It’s new. Very new. Makes her wonder just how long ago it had been renovated. 

“Everyone, this is my sister Ashley.” Kyle says, introducing the other woman in the room. 

“Hello,” she says, giving everyone a wave and a dazzling smile. 

She’s dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt, her medium box braids pulled up into a bun on top of her head. They look a lot alike, her and Kyle. Tall and slender and stunning. They have the same smile and the same soft brown eyes. She's wearing scent blockers, but Christine can imagine her having a soft scent like lavender or something fresh like mint. 

“There's two rooms down here, and two upstairs.” Kyle says. “The main bedroom is through there.” He points towards a door to their left. “I figure we'll give that to our omega. The bathroom in there has a walk-in shower.” 

“Perfect.” Christine says. That will make getting you in and out of the shower easier at least, and you won’t have to go far to use the bathroom.

“You should take the other room down here.” John says, looking at Christine. “So you can be close in case of an emergency.”

And so you don't have to be too close to them, so you won’t feel like they’re hovering.

He doesn't have to say that part out loud. 

“I put new sheets on all the beds.” Ashley says. “I also picked up everything Kyle sent on the list. Food, some clothes, some other necessities.”

You let out a quiet groan, Christine patting your head gently. You have to be exhausted and sore after the day. She should give you another dose of pain medicine like she said she would. You’re going to need it tonight. 

“Let's get you laying down for a bit.” She says, wheeling you towards the door. 

Kyle opens it for her, revealing a spacious room with a big window looking out towards the sea. You're going to spend a lot of time in front of that window, she thinks. The bed is in the middle of the room, and there’s two chairs facing the window. She’s almost tempted to sit you in one of the chairs, but laying down will be more comfortable for you right now. 

You're still too out of it now to care much as she wheels you to the double bed. With Kyle's help they get you horizontal, Christine draping the blanket at the end of the bed over you. It’s not very soft, but it will do for now. She’ll have to get the guys to pick up some soft blankets for you when they go to town. She has a whole list of things starting in her head she needs them to pick up.

She leans your crutch against the end of the bed just in case you might need it for an emergency. She hopes you’ll yell first, but you always have been stubborn. Being mostly bed-bound has only made that worse. 

“I’m going to go look through the things Ashley picked up.” She says, patting your leg gently. “Get some rest.” 

Christine leaves the door open a crack as she exits, wanting to give you a little privacy as you nap, or at least she hopes you’ll nap. It’s going to be a rough adjustment, and you’re going to need as much rest as you can get. 

“I’m assuming you’re Christine.” Ashley says, walking up to her. 

“I am.” She says, giving Ashley a smile. 

She can’t help but get lost in Ashley’s soft gaze for a moment. The Garrick siblings seem to share the same magnetic energy. There’s something almost ethereal about them. She could easily imagine them with glowing halos and angel wings. It’s almost like she’s being blessed with the opportunity to look upon her. She could spend an hour staring at Ashley’s face and not grow tired of looking at her.

“I picked up the items Kyle said you needed.” She says, motioning to the bags on the coffee table, pulling Christine out of her daze. “I couldn’t find the exact nutrient powder you asked for, so I got one that was as close as I could find.” 

Christine glances through the bags. She was thorough, getting at least two of everything. 

“I got warmer clothes for her too, since it can get chilly out here this time of year. Just some simple things for now until you guys get into town.” Ashley says. “I did some research too and I read that omegas like comforting things so I picked up some extra blankets and pillows” Ashley says, motioning to a couple bags sitting on the couch. “I also picked up this,” She pulls a stuffed dog from one of the bags, holding it up. “It was the softest one I could find. I thought it might help.” 

A small smile forms on Christine’s face, her heart fluttering in her chest from the sweet, thoughtful gesture. Ashley doesn’t even know you, nor did she know exactly what happened to you, and yet she went so far as to pick up some comfort items for you. You have nothing right now, only the borrowed clothes on your back. All of your belongings are still on base, all of the things that you had built to make your perfect nest. Would you want any of them still? Or have they been tainted by the events of the last few weeks? 

That Ashley thought to do this has warmth flooding Christine’s body. You can have some comfort now without having to wait for their trip to town. She almost feels the urge to cry. She wants to hug Ashley, thank her over and over for her kindness. Ashley has no idea how much her small act of kindness means, how much it's going to mean. 

A smile forms on Christine’s face as she stares at the stuffed dog. “It’s perfect.” 

You can hear it. 

In the distance, the quiet roar reaches your ears as you’re dragged from the sweet arms of sleep. It must be a dream, or perhaps the sedative is still clinging to your mind, making you imagine things. 

No. 

You’d know that sound anywhere. 

The effort to push yourself up to sit is a momentous one, every cell in your body protesting after a day of being moved and jostled. The last thing you want is to move right now, but you have to. 

The pain meds have done little to help.

The crutch at the end of your bed must be a thousand miles away as you sit there and stare at it. The ache in your body only increases as you become more and more aware of the pain, almost as if it can tell what it is your mind is planning. 

The door is cracked open, letting in a slit of light from outside. It’s dark in the room, the curtains pulled over the window. It’s a blessing compared to the bright yellow light outside the door. You welcome the darkness as your head begins to throb. You could call for assistance. You’d get more help than you needed. More help than you want. 

No. 

You need to do this. 

The effort it takes to get standing nearly sends you back onto the bed. The pain nearly blinds you as your feet touch the floor, your body leaning against the side of the mattress out of desperation. If you fall, you’ll never be alone again. You can’t afford that. You don’t want that. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

The breaths out of your nose are short and sharp as you reach for the crutch, fingers trembling in the effort to fight the pain threatening to blind you. You’re trembling like a leaf in a storm as your fingers finally wrap around the cool metal. The rubber bottom drags across the floor as you tug it over to you, holding it against your chest for a moment. 

Breathe. That’s what you need to do. Breathe. 

In and out. 

Nice and slow. 

The pain is only a memory. The pain is nothing. The memories forming at the edges of your mind will take over and wipe out the pain and the misery. You just have to be sure. You just have to be certain.

You push yourself upright using the crutch, tucking it under your arm. You should go back to bed. You should rest. 

No. 

You need to know. 

You need to be certain.

The first step you take nearly makes you sick. 

It’s like watching a baby deer walk for the first time, knees wobbling, feet shaking. You lean heavily on the crutch, your determination the only thing keeping you from tumbling to the floor in a heap. That might almost hurt worse than forcing yourself to stand upright. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Inch by inch you move across the floor, silently grateful for the socks on your feet. They allow you to slide across the hardwood, but they also pose a threat. Slide too far and you’ll lose your feet. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

The determination and your desire for certainty is what keeps you sliding inch by inch across the floor towards that strip of blinding light in front of you. It’s hovering before you, threatening you. How do you know there’s not one of them standing guard, waiting for you to try and leave? You can’t know. You don’t have a clue what’s waiting on the other side of that door. It could be nothing. It could be your entire pack. 

Breathe. 

In and out. 

You take a moment at the door, resting your aching feet. Your body is throbbing from the effort to keep yourself upright, the sedative still numbing your brain and your movements. It’s like treading through honey, everything twice as hard as it should be. You can walk. You’ve done it before. You did it in the medical center. 

You can do it here. 

You use the crutch to push the door open more, your free arm still tucked in a sling to keep you from moving it. Reaching for it with that arm would have put you on the floor, would have caused more pain than you needed, would have made you fall. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Breathe. 

The light burns. Explosions of yellows and whites erupt behind your eyelids as you screw them tight against the sudden onslaught. The sun is in the room, shining its rays directly into your sensitive eyes. Your stomach churns, your fingers tightening around the crutch so tight your knuckles begin to ache. The oppressive light makes you want to recede back into the darkness of the room behind you like a vampire shying away from the light of day. 

No. 

You won’t be defeated by the harsh artificial lighting. You need to know. 

You need to be certain.

The others are moving around. You can hear voices around the corner, voices upstairs with thudding footsteps. The air is thick with a mesh of scents, cleaning chemicals, and the burn of scent blocker. Your nose wrinkles at the sudden onslaught against your senses, your sedated brain making it all seem so much worse. 

You need to know. 

The hardwood floors continue and you use them to your advantage as you shuffle your way across the main area. The fire crackles as you pass, the popping of a log making you startle. Your feet slide again, your body pushing up against the crutch to hold yourself steady. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Your target is dead ahead, a mile away but so close you can almost taste it. Just past the dining table and straight on till morning. 

Despite your snail’s pace, no one seems to notice you shuffling your way across the house. It should make you upset, the fact that none of them notice you moving around, but instead it makes you glad. They’d try to stop you if they noticed you, turn you around and shuffle you back to bed. Or worse, they’d carry you. 

How easily you could slip away, though. 

Well...in theory. 

Perhaps that’s why they ‘re not paying you any mind. How far could you really go in your current state? 

Why would you want to stray from the only safe space you have? 

The world outside is more dangerous with the state you’re in. Not just because of your injuries and your status, but also because you know Shepherd is still out there, and for all you know Graves is as well. 

He could be waiting right outside the door. 

No. 

They’d know. 

They’d protect you. 

They failed. 

You push past the fear in favor of certainty as you push forward, passing the dining table in your slow crawl towards the sliding glass door. 

It poses an entirely new threat as you stand before it, staring out the darkened glass. You have to get it open. Getting it open takes strength and you’re down to one hand that’s trying to keep you upright. 

You have to know. 

You have to be certain. 

You lean your weight on the crutch, ignoring the way it digs into your armpit as you reach for the handle. You click the lock, wrapping your fingers around the plastic before pulling. Your body screams with pain as you tug, the door sliding in the track as slowly as you had moved across the small living area. It’s almost as if it's mocking you. 

It’s open only as wide as you need to crutch your way through, doing your best not to knock your left shoulder against the frame. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Breathe. 

You can smell it. 

The salty sea air invades your senses, slipping up through your nose and straight into your brain. Memories come flooding back of childhood vacations back when things were simpler. Back when nothing mattered but the sand and the water and avoiding getting chased by your brothers carrying the piece of seaweed they found. 

Polkadot bathing suits, bright red to be seen easily. Toes in the water, sand everywhere. The nap in the silent car home. 

How simple life was back then. How easy life was. 

Your heart aches for those days again. The days when you could exist without a care in the world, trusting your pack would keep you safe, trusting your family would care for you. Your mind yearns for that sense of safety and security again. 

The world is grey as you hobble across the porch, the grey seeming to go on forever. You missed it, the chill in the air, the gloomy grey overhead. How you yearned for the gloom of England while stuck in the heat of Texas. 

Anything is better than Texas. 

Your forward shuffle pauses at the edge of the deck, your eyes looking out into the grey. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare out into the distance, the ache in your chest intensifying. It blocks out the pain in your body, numbing you to everything else as you stand there, legs trembling from the effort of going the short distance from your room to the end of the porch. 

You can see it. 

Emotions swirl inside of you like a hurricane as you stare out where the grey water meets the grey sky in the line of the horizon. Those emotions threaten to choke you as you stand there trembling at the edge of the porch. There’s a breeze, a cold one that bites through the fabric of your sweatshirt and into the skin below, but you don’t care. 

You can’t care. 

Your legs shake from the exertion, the neverending exhaustion that’s settled deep into your bones. It’s not just a physical exhaustion, but a mental one as well. It’s been a long week. 

Only a week. 

So much has happened in a week. 

You want to sit. You want to sink down onto the porch and rest. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

There’s a pain in your chest as your breath catches in your throat. The emotions are whirling, tightening around your chest, squeezing your lungs until they feel like they might pop. 

Breathe. 

In and out. 

You needed certainty. You needed to know. 

You can hear it. You can smell it. You can see it. 

A single tear rolls down your cheek as you stare out at the sea. 

NEXT ->

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[ahqkas]

“CANDY GIRL — dick grayson.

PAIRING ! dick grayson 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! you meet dick’s friends for the first time WORD COUNT! 1.2k WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, mention of reader’s hair + lmk if more found ! NOTES! i love wally sm :(( based on this rq.!! , header bellow belongs to @/v6que © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

DECEMBER HAD WRAPPED THE CITY IN ITS QUIET EMBRACE, blanketing the streets with white snow that muffled the usual chaos. The night had the kind of sharp chill that painted windows with frost and turned every exhale into a fleeting ghost of warmth. The city looked magical, you were certain of that. You found warmth in the cold—one if rare evenings when the city seemed to pause, and you had the luxury of time.

Time had always felt like a thief in your relationship with Dick Grayson, slipping between your fingers the moment you thought you’d held it long enough. He was always rushing off to save someone, to stop something, to carry the weight of a world you weren’t entirely a part of. And you had your own commitments: late nights with textbooks sprawled across your bed, early mornings chasing deadlines. But tonight was different. Tonight, the world had decided to be kind, and you’d carved out this sliver of time to be together.

Let’s start from the beginning.

You and Dick met on a spring afternoon, back when the days were longer and everything felt full of possibility. You were working at a little coffee shop near your university, balancing foam art and coursework, when he walked in. He was polite but distracted, glancing at his phone every few seconds like he was waiting for some signal. You’d noticed his smile first—easy and disarming, like the rest of the world could fall away and he wouldn’t care as long as you smiled back.

“What’s good here?” he’d asked, leaning slightly against the counter. He wasn’t trying to charm you; he was too genuine for that, but something about the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the room, made your breath catch.

“The cappuccinos,” you’d said, voice steadier than you’d felt. “Unless you’re into syrupy monstrosities. Then I can whip up something with caramel and whipped cream.”

He’d laughed—a soft, quiet sound that felt like sunlight. “Cappuccino it is.”

He came back the next day, then the day after that. You learned his name, then bits and pieces of his life. He told you he worked for a non-profit, vaguely alluding to long hours and unpredictable schedules. You’d teased him about being a workaholic, and he’d shrugged it off with a smile. He never told you the full truth—not at first—but there was a sincerity in him that you trusted.

The two of you didn’t officially start dating until months later, after countless coffee shop conversations and a chance meeting outside campus one rainy afternoon. You’d been balancing too many books and almost lost your footing on the wet pavement when he caught you, his hands steady and warm on your arms.

“You okay?” he’d asked, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah,” you’d responded, laughing nervously. “Guess I’m clumsy and caffeinated.”

He’d smiled, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. “You’re also beautiful.”

And that was it. The moment the scales tipped, and you fell.

Now, almost a year later, you were walking into a bar to meet his two best friends. The thought made you nervous in a way that felt ridiculous—you knew Dick, trusted him, felt at home with him in ways you hadn’t with anyone else. But these were the people who knew him better than anyone, who’d seen him through all the things he didn’t tell you about his past. Meeting them felt like stepping into his world more fully, and you wanted to make a good impression.

The bar was small and cozy, tucked away on a quiet street. Its wooden sign swayed slightly in the wind, snowflakes catching the light as they fell. You pushed the door open, stepping into a warmth that smelled like aged wood and spiced cider. Your eyes scanned the room, landing on him almost instantly. You always found him.. He was sitting at a booth near the back, his dark hair catching the low amber light. He stood as soon as he saw you, his face lighting up with a smile that melted away any lingering nerves in your system.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, pulling you into a tight hug. His hoodie smelled like the faintest hint of cologne mixed with winter air. “You made it.”

“Of course I did,” you replied with your smile widening. Your gaze flickered to the two people sitting across from him. Wally and Donna. You’d heard so much about them, but seeing them here, in the flesh, was something else entirely.

“Hi,” you said to them, your voice steadier than you felt. “I’m—”

“The girlfriend,” the ginger best friend interrupted your introduction, as he already knew you from the constant gushing of his best friend and partner, his grin wide and teasing. He stood up, offering a hand. “Wally West. The funnier and slightly faster half of this guy.”

Donna rolled her eyes, her expression softening as she stood as well. “I’m Donna. It’s nice to finally meet you. We’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

“Not that much,” the man in question groaned slightly, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks faintly pink.

“Oh, please,” Wally was clearly enjoying this, dropping into what you could only assume was an impression of your boyfriend. “Guys, you have to meet her. She’s so amazing, so beautiful, so smart. I don’t deserve her, honestly—”

“Stop,” Dick groaned, his voice pitching higher. “That sounds nothing like me.”

You bit back a laugh, the nerves melting into warmth as I looked at Wally. Dick looked torn between mortification and disbelief. “I’ll give that a solid two out of ten,” you said, smirking at the ginger. “Points for enthusiasm, but you’re way off.”

Wally clutched at his sweatshirt covering chest, holding his wounded heart close to him as if you’d mortally hurt him. “Two out of ten. Damn, that’s harsh.”

Donna was laughing so hard tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. “That’s generous,” she managed between giggles. “I’d give it a one.”

“Okay, okay,” Dick said, holding up a hand like he was trying to get things under his thumb again. That’s just what he needed—his girlfriend teaming up against him with his best friends.. “Let’s not encourage him.”

You turned to him, grinning. “Don’t worry,” you teased, leaning just close enough that only he could hear. “You’re much cuter in person than in his version.”

His expression softened instantly, the faint pout turning into something sweeter. “Good to know,” he mumbled, his arm brushing yours as he shifted closer.

The banter settled into an easy rhythm after that, the warmth of the moment melting any lingering nerves. It didn’t take long for you to realize why these two meant so much to him. Donna’s calm steadiness balanced out Wally’s constant stream of energy, their camaraderie forming the kind of bond that made you feel like you were part of something bigger just by being near them. And as the evening wore on, with laughter and shared stories filling the air, you couldn’t help but feel a little closer to Dick’s world—his real world—the one you were slowly, steadily becoming a part of.

[cold-kitty]

Today's poll winner was... Yandere Neuvillette! (HAPPY ASS SQUEALING I LOVE HIM SO MUCH)

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DISCLAIMER: I only know a little about him, I only just started Fontaine, so sorry if anything is super wrong.

Contains: Thoughts of kidnapping, slight depression for Neuvillette, angsty (if you squint), actual love <3

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Yan!Neuvillette is definitely a guilty yandere, he hates that he's like this.

Yan!Neuvillette had someone find him an office helper, someone to tidy a bit, help with cases possibly, maybe get him some water here and there. and that's all you were for a while.

Yan!Neuvillette who finds himself drawn to you, catching himself stealing a glance every now and then.

Yan!Neuvillette who at first thinks that he just likes you, might as well like each other if you work together after all. but he finds his chest swelling every time he looks at you, a lovely yet almost painful feeling.

Yan!Neuvillette who is much happier when you're around him, it's almost always a sunny day.

Yan!Neuvillette who finds himself jealous when you're around other people, especially if you're laughing or touching them.

Yan!Neuvillette who finds himself dreaming about having you all to himself, keeping you in a lavish room...

Yan!Neuvillette who wakes up in a cold sweat, disgusted with himself. he avoids you at work, it was cloudy that day.

Yan!Neuvillette who doesn't see you at work the next day, and he starts to feel guilty. did you feel bad because he avoided you? were you sick? it was extra cloudy that day.

Yan!Neuvillette who doesn't see you the next day either. he spends that day crying at his desk, wondering if it's his fault. it was rainy that day.

Yan!Neuvillette who ends up sobbing the next day, getting absolutely no work done. the town was under flood warning that day.

Yan!Neuvillette who prepares himself for another crying session the next day only to see you waiting in his office. he lunges at you, quite literally, and almost falls to his feet as he squeezes you into a desperate hug.

Yan!Neuvillette who feels a mix of great relief when you tell him that you were just sick, watching as you try to awkwardly return the hug. he tells you that he'll make you soup the next time you get sick, so just tell him.

Yan!Neuvillette who wants nothing more than to hold you like this all day, and he sort of does, making sure he's near you at all times. it was dribbling slightly that day, but it was extremely sunny. his chest was full of that swelling feeling, that lovely, painful feeling of love all day.

Yan!Neuvillette who watches as you excitedly point out the window, confused at first, but then he sees...

a rainbow as beautiful as you.

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SCREAMING CRYING PISSING MYSELF I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

I definitely spent a lot of time on this one, (I am delusional and I have an actually unhealthy obsession with him) so I hope it was good!

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RANDOM BUT LOOK AT MY DOOR

ITS NEUVIEEEEEE (send help)

~🐈‍⬛

[danverslvrr]

Cardigan

Emily Prentiss x Reader

summary: On a quiet, rainy night, you sketch as Emily offers quiet comfort, sharing warmth and admiration through small gestures that make you both realize you’ve found home in each other.

a/n: this is my first time writing anything on here like ever so idk how well this will go

556 words | nothing but fluff

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You sit on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, sketchbook balanced in your lap. The soft, amber glow of the table lamp cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the focused crease in your brow as your pencil moved across the page.

Emily, wrapped in an oversized cardigan, leaned against the kitchen counter, her eyes fixed on you. There was something magnetic about you to her in these quiet moments—the way your sharp features softened in the low light, the way your eyes seemed to hold the weight of everything you saw but never said.

“You know,” Emily said, breaking the silence, “you look at everything like you’re trying to figure it out.”

You glance up, your pencil pausing mid-stroke. “Everything has a pattern,” you reply simply, voice low and even.

Emily crosses the room and settles beside you, curling up on the couch with the ease of someone who’d done it a hundred times before. She leans her head on your shoulder, her dark hair brushing against your jaw. “Even me?”

You smirk faintly, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “Especially you.”

Emily laughs softly, the sound vibrating through the quiet. “What have you figured out so far?”

You hesitate, gaze dropping to the sketchbook in your lap. You turn the page slightly, revealing a delicate drawing of a hand—a hand unmistakably Emily’s, with its long fingers and faint scars.

Emily’s breath hitches, her voice quieter now. “That’s me.”

You nod. “You fidget with your nails when you’re nervous. Your laugh is louder when you’re trying to hide something. And when you think no one’s watching, you look at the stars like they might have answers for you.”

Emily blinked, her chest tightening in a way that was both painful and sweet. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I notice everything about you,” you say, your voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

Emily didn’t know what to say to that, so she leaned in closer, letting the weight of your words settle between the two of you. After a moment, she pulls the cardigan from her shoulders and drapes it over you.

You frown, eyebrows knitting together. “Aren’t you cold?”

Emily shook her head, her voice light but sincere. “You need it more than I do. You always run colder than me.”

You look down at the cardigan, your fingers brushing over the worn, soft fabric. It smelled like Emily—like sandalwood and something faintly sweet—and it settles over you like a memory you hadn’t realized you’d been holding onto.

You sat like that for a long time, the rain continuing to fall outside, the music playing softly in the background. Emily’s head rested on your shoulder, and your hand coming up to trace gentle circles on Emily’s arm, your touch light but grounding.

“You know,” Emily murmured after a while, her voice thick with affection, “you make me feel like I’m home.”

You don’t reply right away, but your hand stills on Emily’s arm, your fingers curling slightly. “You are home,” she says eventually, her voice as steady and certain as the earth beneath your feet.

And in that moment, with the rain falling and the world outside forgotten, you both knew that no matter where you were or what storms might come, you’d always find your way back to each other.

[lilpotatjj]

Cait and Sam watching their own wedding night episode? Yes aaand no. We all know what these two lovebirds did...like come on who wouldn't? I escalated a wee bit. That's one of my longest Oneshots (almost 5000 words) and I'm gonna continue this with a hugh story about them. Living the forbidden lie in all his cuteness.

Warning: starts with super fluffy and lovely cuteness and turns into a soft 18+ hot mess. Sam beeing Sam and Cait beeing most of the time Cait with slightly cute shyness

(Credits to the Gif owners)

♡Chap.1-Directing their own happy hour♡

A crazy year is over. Filming has long since been completed and the premiere of the first season is over. Several interviews have been held and the first episodes are already on TV. It's September, cool and unpleasantly rainy in LA this year and the day before the premiere of the seventh episode. It's called 'The Wedding Night'.

Cait was out and about, drenched after a conversation with one of the co-producers. It was up in the air whether there would be a second season, but the prospects looked good. She didn't think to bring an umbrella. Why in LA, where it is usually quite warm, even in September.

She ran to her car, the newspaper just over her head for protection, and got in. 'Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ... What the hell is wrong with this weather?' she cursed and was completely soaked. She quickly switched on the engine and turned up the heating. As she drove off, her mobile phone suddenly rang in its holder on the dashboard of the car. 'Hey Sam,' she said simply and focussed on the road.

'Have you been bathing?' he asked wryly, obviously making himself comfortable.

'Very funny...the weather in LA almost reminds me of home,' she was finding it difficult to speak. She was shaking a little and had trouble concentrating. 'I'll call you later if it's unfavourable?' he asked and she said no, perhaps a little too quickly. 'Ah ok' he paused for a moment. 'Tell me what's going on, I'll be fine' she said with chattering teeth and he had to smile, sitting up straight again and looking thoughtful. 'What do you think about travelling to my place and I'll tell you what's going on when you've warmed up at my place?' he asked sincerely without any ulterior motives.

Her cheeks flushed, which wasn't just because she was cold. 'All right, I'm on my way. The same hotel as always?' she asked and he replied with a quick "Yes". The rain didn't stop, on the contrary, it even got heavier. She parked the car in one of the parkingslots in front of the hotel and dashed inside as quickly as she could. Once inside, she asked at reception for the surname Heughan. The servant nodded conspicuously. 'Ah yes, Mr Heughan, he had informed me. He's in room 0410,' he said and with a very friendly smile, he pointed down one of the corridors. Cait thanked him and walked towards his room. Once there, she knocked on his door without thinking. He opened it for her and looked her up and down briefly before she simply entered his hotel room. He looked after her, slightly amused, and went into the bathroom.

When he came out again, he found her standing by the radiator, shivering slightly. He went to her and put a towel over her shoulders. She looked at him gratefully and unconsciously smiled far too sweetly. 'Thank you,' she said quietly and his eyes stayed on hers for longer than he wanted. The reason why he grabbed her towel and started playfully rubbing her hair dry. 'You should bring an umbrella next time,' he said with amusement. 'It wasn't raining when I was out' she gave him an annoyed look as he then went to the wardrobe to lend her some of his own clothes.

'Here' He held the clothes out to her wordlessly and she took them hesitantly. 'It's not going to stop raining that quickly for now. You can spend the night if you want. I'll sleep on the couch,' he said as he looked out of the window. She gave him a look of disbelief. 'Oh come on, we slept anywhere on set where there was space and time. You can sleep in the bed with me' she said dryly without thinking about it and Sam turned to her with his typical look, eyebrow raised slightly, he nodded.

She was right. Time on set was often pretty tough. Sometimes there was no time to sleep and filming often lasted well over 24 hours. Sometimes one of the props or simply a bench was a comfortable place to sleep for a short break. But now they are no longer on set, there is no one around to watch them.

'What did you want to talk about?' she asked curiously as she came out of the bathroom, dressed in one of his big hoodies. She almost sank into it and yet it looked great on her. 'Right, exactly... I wanted to ask you if you'd like to watch tomorrow's episode of Outlander with me' he said and she looked at him curiously. 'What episode was it again?' she asked, rubbing her face tiredly. 'The seventh episode,' he said, unconsciously tense. 'oh ok' came from her, benignly ignorant. 'What's the name of the episode, I'm just too tired to remember which one the last one left off at,' she said, pouring herself a sip of the wine on the table.

'The Wedding Night...' She choked and coughed for a moment. Now it dawned on her. It was that episode. She remembered all the scenes on set too well.

'Are you ok?' he asked without making any facial expressions. 'Yes... I'm sorry,' she apologised and put her glass down again for safety reasons. 'But we're going to need more wine,' she said with amusement and her grin was almost unpleasant. The mood was strange. He scrutinised her carefully while she just stared at the wine, motionless and thoughtful.

She looked slowly at him, his gaze still fixed on her. You would have thought he was burning every corner of her face. It made her nervous, but not in an unpleasant way. She felt the heat in her cheeks and stood up abruptly. 'I think I've spilt...I'll be right back' she disappeared into the bathroom in a flash. She was aware of what was happening, or so she thought, but she was still unsure. He was and is her co-partner. What would the media say, Starz or everyone involved in the big picture? She didn't realise she was breathing faster.

'Cait, are you all right?' he asked anxiously from behind the door. 'Y..yes...I'll be right back.' She splashed water on her face and then came out again. 'And you're sure we should sleep in the same bed?' he asked with raised eyebrows, almost admonishingly. 'That's fine, it's ok,' she said dryly and gave him a cheeky look. She stood in front of him. He was so tall that she always had to look up at him. 'But only if you change too...I doubt you want to sleep in those jeans...you already hated them on set' she looked at him challengingly and tugged at his collar. He enjoyed her closeness. It was clear that he had had feelings for her for some time. It was impossible not to, given the sight of her and her wonderful character. But whether she would ever be serious about him was an open question. He doesn't push her, gives her room to manoeuvre and is patient. Like a crocodile patiently waiting to snatch its prey.

He gave her a charming smile and went to his wardrobe, took out more comfortable clothes and looked at her briefly. She sat down on the couch and unconsciously inspected him as he disappeared into the bathroom. He didn't miss her gaze and when he came out again, he saw her sitting on the couch with her head resting on her hand. She grinned at him. 'Do you want to watch something or are you too tired and want to go to sleep?' he asked solidly, closing the curtains. He turned round and noticed that she already had jumped into bed. She snuggled into the big duvet. He laughed briefly and shook his head playfully. 'well...I take it you've had a full day today...want to talk?' he came round and lay down in bed too. They both looked at each other, snuggled together under a blanket, she was quiet for a moment and had to look at him. It's a completely different feeling alone without people from the set. Far away from all the other trailers, other people or cameras. There was no one here. The thought of it made her heart beat gently faster and she almost forgot to speak, let alone breathe, at the sight of him.

'Yeah...I had a call today and two other annoying appointments before that. I've been travelling all day...then there's the rain...I'm honestly glad to be with you right now' the last words came out of her innocently and unusually meekly. She is usually the type of person who says what she thinks, with consideration for the feelings of others. But it's easier with him. She can be whatever she wants, let herself go with him. He listened to her quietly and attentively.

'Sam... what is it between us?' She looked him in the eye and tried to understand the moment. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face with a wave of his hand, ignoring his own pounding heart. 'We're just lying here talking,' he replied briefly in a low voice. Jesus, can't he stop being cute for once? Struggling to concentrate from his voice and the sight of him, Cait swallowed with difficulty, unable to find an answer.

It was so quiet. Neither of them said anything. Her breathing was much faster and without thinking she snuggled up to him, hiding her face in his chest to hide her burning cheeks. She could hear his heart beating softly and realised that it was also much faster. Sam took her carefully in his arms and decided to remain silent for the time being, to savour the moment. He could smell her hair and buried his face in it a little, kissing it and noticed her smile. He did the same and had to smile. As always, no one needs to say anything to understand.

The sun's warm rays tickled Cait's cheeks and she moved slowly. A large, warm body lay close to her. You really don't need a heater when you're lying next to this 1.92m tall man. She grinned happily as she realised who it was. He was still asleep. She took this moment to observe his sleeping form. He looked so content and balanced, still holding her tightly in his arms.

His calm breathing was soothing, like a lullaby. It was nothing new, sleeping with him, hearing his breathing, feeling him against her, his embrace and yet this time it was completely different. She felt a tingling in her stomach at the mere thought of wanting to touch him. It made her nervous and she suddenly looked away from him only to look back at him again. Her gaze kept switching between his lips and the air she was trying to stare into. No Cait...you better not. Once you start, it will end badly... she thought to herself and thought back to their time on set. They often kissed away from the camera. Out of spontaneous situations to practise, of course...right? The heat rose in her face again. She tried to control her thoughts, but her heart was making it damn hard. She didn't even realise that she had come closer to him, her face close to his, her breathing as if she were climbing a mountain that was out of reach. However, with an unmistakable sound in her voice, she freed herself from his grip in a flash and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Without realising it, she was sweating. She clutched her forehead and tried to get her breathing under control. Damn Balfe, a little more self-control! Her thoughts were waging a war she was in danger of losing. He opened one eye and watched her actions. She flinched slightly as he began to stretch and looked slightly to the side in his direction. He couldn't help but grin self-consciously. She was so cute. He didn't know her to be that shy or insecure. On set, they could both let Jamie and Claire hang out, kiss or touch each other however they wanted. Nobody would have thought it was anything serious, at least that's what they both thought.

She stood up abruptly and looked nervously at him. 'I'm going to freshen up,' she said briefly and Sam let himself fall into his pillow with a smile. He wanted the time to last. To savour this precious moment, just with her...just with Cait.

He made breakfast and the rest of the day was relaxed. Except for a few little things Sam had to do this time, the day was uneventful. Cait spent the time in his room and fell asleep on his couch once again. She was far too tired from the last few days, not to mention the previous night. Snuggled up with one of Sam's woollen blankets, she slept peacefully. The blanket smelled wonderfully of him and transported her to dreamland far too quickly. When the Scotsman returned later that day, he saw her curled up on the couch. Still asleep. He put the key away and took off his shoes to go to her. With quiet steps, he stood next to her and looked at her without a word. She looked so innocent. He often did, watching her sleep. Her soft purring when she slept. Her soft smile when he always secretly snuggled up to her, just to be close to her unnoticed. He loved it.

Sam simply stood still for another moment and looked down at her thoughtfully, bent down and got very close to her face. He could feel her breath on him. The corner of his mouth twitched impatiently and he gave her a delicate kiss on her soft lips. His heart did what it wanted and almost ran away from him, but he didn't care. The kiss was short and so gentle that Cait didn't wake up, at least that's what he thought and realised he was wrong. The ball of blanket and the supposed Mrs Fraser inside it moved gently. She opened her eyes just a crack to somehow recognise what in God's name was happening. Sam was already scurrying about, unpacking a few things he'd been shopping for. There were a few bottles of wine and something to nibble on.

She sat up in a daze, her hair in a wild mess and yawned tiredly. 'What time is it?' she asked with a husky voice. 'It's already 7 pm. How long have you been asleep?' He brought two bottles of wine to the table and two glasses. 'Too long... Well, I don't think I'll fall asleep that quickly watching TV,' she said with amusement and ran her hands through her hair to fix it a little. 'Are you hungry?' he asked, unpacking a bag at the same time. It was Asian Food. 'Yes,' she replied curtly and watched the Scotsman without realising it. Her gaze was dreamy, as if she was looking at the jackpot she had won. He came over to her and set her something to eat. She had to smile. Of course he knew exactly what her favourite food was. 'Thank you,' she said and they both ate some of the food.

'Do you remember filming the episode?' he asked when he had finished eating.

'Yes, quite a lot. I'm curious how it was edited. Some days were so long and tiring,' she took a breath and looked at him. 'It was sometimes very difficult to stay relaxed and yet... You made it easy for me to shoot the more difficult scenes,' he said with a smile and looked at her in detail. She couldn't avoid his gaze and was caught up in it. She quickly picked up her wine glass and took a good sip.

Cait laughed softly as she remembered. 'Did you remember the scene when Claire said "go to bed"? God, how many times we replayed that just because our producer never liked the look in your eyes and then I said "to fuck" off camera, or so I thought? Your look afterwards was exactly what they wanted to see and it was recorded,' she laughed and took another sip. Sam did the same and poured the red wine down his throat. 'How could I forget?' his voice sounded ironic with an amused undertone. 'At least it wasn't too cold when we were naked for what felt like 24 hours,' he said and poured more wine.

She looked silently into her wine glass after his words, then raised her eyes and literally stared at him. He's like an accident... you don't want to look but you can't help but stare at him with curiosity and anticipation. Too mesmerised by his gaze, she once again couldn't get a word out. He could throw a bone now and she would run after it like a dog. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. 'The episode is about to start,' he breathed so quietly that she had to think for a moment whether she had heard him correctly.

Sam came closer to her, looked deep into her eyes and was tired of seeing her like this. She was literally begging to be touched. The Scotsman didn't hesitate a second longer and kissed her gently yet firmly. Cait was briefly surprised and yet she accepted the kiss without hesitation. As if they had kissed hundreds of times before, he brought her to him by taking her face in his hand. He stroked her cheek tenderly and was the first to break the kiss. Cait just looked at him. She could have sworn her heart was stuck one floor below. He smiled at her and she did the same, returning his smile with a blissful grin. He took the remote control without another word.

The atmosphere was strangely relaxed, but you could just feel the crackle. He switched on the TV and the episode started. She looked over at him expectantly, so he couldn't help but lean over and grab her, cuddling her right next to him against his chest. Cait took a contented breath and drank more of the wine as she savoured his closeness and warmth.

They both made comments here and there and had to laugh and shake their heads when Rupert and Angus burst in. 'I remember one of them fell badly once,' Sam laughed and they both grinned. Then came the scene where Claire asks Jamie to bed. Both the Scot and the Irishwoman watched the scene tensely and had to smile again and again. 'How many times we had to repeat that...but you did a good job,' she said contentedly to distract them from what was actually happening. Jamie grabbed Claire's breast. 'Christ, how many times you made me laugh, Cait...you kept making jokes about my breasts,' Sam said with amusement and Cait turned bright red. 'Well I was nervous as hell...we had to take our clothes off...I was afraid I'd ruin your view of naked women' she said sheepishly and he took her chin and forced her to look at him.

'my god Cait...how can you say that...' he whispered more and she looked at him nervously and slightly guiltily. Before she could say anything, Sam beat her to it. 'Your body is beautiful.' She stared at him and their gazes parted as the scene came where Jamie plopped on top of her and penetrated her. The situation couldn't have been stranger. It was weird for both of them to see each other like this. It looked a thousand times hotter on the screen than when they were both shooting that scene over and over again.

Sam grinned at Claire's sweet words when she said she gets crushed by Jamie. He noticed Cait's tension, she squeezed her legs tightly together and banished all her thoughts to the farthest corner of her brain cells. To no avail. Sam looked down at her and took the wine glass from her hand. How much had they actually had now? Both bottles of wine were empty.

Cait looked at him questioningly, but she knew the answer. Sam slowly stroked her legs and hesitantly approached her face. Her breathing increased, her lower lip quivering in response to his touch. She closed the gap and kissed him. But this time more demanding and with far less restraint. Gripped by what was on the television, Cait pressed herself closer to him and without thinking about it, she sat on his lap. He gasped briefly under the stormy kisses only to continue on her neck. She let out a sigh. A soft, pleasurable sound that he knew all too well. It had almost always driven him crazy when they gave their all during filming and he wasn't allowed to have her completely. Shooting a scene is one thing. Shooting naked is something else, but constantly filming wild sex scenes in the nude with such a beautiful woman is simply torture. With her playful but otherwise confident character, he would have liked to show how much he really liked her. He constantly had to touch her. On her breasts, her body and getting closer to areas with his face that made him want to seriously give up control of himself.

Meanwhile, no matter what was on the television, she only had eyes for her Scotsman. She looked at him dreamily, losing herself in his gaze. Everything about him is so attractive. His hair, which she now clung to in order not to lose her mind. His upper body, his beard and God damn his face, with his ice-cold blue eyes that almost robbed her of her will. She unconsciously moved onto his lap when she realised that he was already more than ready for action. Now she smirked cheekily at him, causing him to bite his lower lip. 'You little beast....now you're showing your true colours,' he said almost choking and his gaze didn't leave hers for a second. Somehow they knew it, but it was different here too. He took off her hoodie and just looked at her for a moment. As if he couldn't believe what he saw, he grabbed her breasts as if he wanted to make sure they were the same as usual. He kissed one of them gently and played around with the other.

She leant her head back with pleasure and let him do his thing. 'Sam....' she breathed and looked at him, slightly dazed. 'You too....' she whispered excitedly and took off his shirt too. She looked at him with red cheeks. It didn't matter whether it was the alcohol or Sam's fault. No matter who she drank from, she would be intoxicated by both. She touched him on the shoulder and ran her fingers down his neck to the area below his belly button, from which a few hairs flashed out. Sam's eyes were fixed on Cait with an expression as if she were made of glyphs and he was trying to decipher them.

She grabbed his belt with her hand and tried to open it, but this turned out to be difficult when sitting. He grabbed her ass and literally threw her on the couch, took off his pants only to stand completely naked in front of her. Her gaze was discreetly surprised and looked at his best piece. She was not prepared for that now. They always wore protection on set, which didn't help much when Sam had a hard-on, but it covered everything. She swallowed and for a second a shy shadow could be seen in her eyes. "We want to stay fair, my dear," he pointed to her pants and came closer to her playfully. She looked at him nervously and had to smile to cover up her nervousness.

"Do you want to continue?" he asked as a precaution and in answer she nodded and looked at him with a cheeky, innocent face. He grinned confidently and helped her undress. There she was, completely exposed with a red glow on her cheeks. They had both played through this position so many times before, but this one moment now belonged to the two of them alone.

He grabbed her by the hand to pull her up to him. Cait stood directly in front of him and looked him in the eye anything but uncertainly. She literally felt his heartbeat, as if the two were synchronously forming a unit. She took his hands and intertwined her fingers in his. "Caitriona you are so beautiful" proudly sounded in his voice and she smiled happily at him. "Just you and me" she whispered lovingly, looked at him longingly and Sam couldn't ask any more questions, because she had just answered them.

He kissed her, longing and greedy, clawed at her ass to lift her up and faltered briefly. There was no cut, nothing that interrupted them despite the swaying and could stop the lust of both. He let himself fall back a little on the couch, with her on his lap, without even thinking about breaking the kiss.

Now nothing went according to the script. He was the director of this scene and decided how to proceed in accordance with his Irish beauty. She enjoyed every touch, every second and breathed heavier as he caressed her breasts. Cait became more impatient and looked at him almost begging. He grabbed her ass again to lift her and positioned her so that Sam could penetrate her without any problems. He smiled... She was more than ready. A groan on her part indicated that the tackle would continue as he was into her completely. The Hugh Scot didn't want to slow down, not to be careful that something unexpected happened.

Cait moved and he adjusted to her. This time he couldn't help but moan quietly. She rested her forehead on his and continued moving. Regardless of the hotel neighbors, neither of them cared how loud they were.

He had to smile at the sight of her. She moaned subtly differently than when they were filming. It sounded the same as always, but there was a hint of honesty in the sound of her lovely voice. The sound that makes his bones tremble and underlines the pleasure he is really giving her. Flowing through the alcohol and the rush of adrenaline that they both experience and that made them both sweat, he felt how aroused she already was. He concentrated on her to give her the moment of happiness, but had great difficulty enduring it, especially with her moaning. She really deeply enjoying it.

'Sam...' damn it, he tried so hard not to lose control, but moaning his name like that almost pushed him over the edge. He gasped heavily and bit her shoulder. Finally, she felt a wave rushing deep inside her and completely flooding her. She moaned louder and let him feel how much he loved her without ever having said it.

'Sassenach!' He gasped at the same time as her and let himself fall completely as he came inside her, clawing a little too hard at her round ass. She sank exhausted onto his shoulder and gasped for air. Completely out of breath, both of them tried to understand the situation they were in.

'Everything ok...Mo Chridhe?' He hesitated at first, but he had to say it. He loved her and had no doubt that this would ever change. She was too perfect, her temperament, her way of dealing with him and her laugh. God, how much he loved her laugh. The Scotsman lovingly wrapped the wool blanket around her and let her get some air, but it was starting to make him nervous because she was still hiding into his chest. 'Is everything ok, Cait?' he asked nervously. She turned her head so that her face was directed towards the crook of his neck and he could feel her breath. He got goosebumps.

'I love you...' she whispered softly to him. Three words that could throw him off balance and almost made his heart stop. A smile twitched across his lips. 'I love you too... Sassenach...' he said lovingly and playfully and felt her smile. 'What do we tell the producers?" she asked, quite worried. 'Nothing at first. It will be difficult to hide it... at least partially. Maybe they'll let us do it and accept the unspoken facts. Filming should be easier for both of us,' he tried to explain and stroked her back. Suddenly he looked at her with a Jamie expression, as if he had traveled through time in just a second. 'Could you now...' he paused briefly.

'What?' now she looked at him confused. 'I mean we didn't use protection...' he got nervous and the Irish woman had to giggle. 'No...that's out of the question, don't worry' she said. He smiled in relief. 'We missed half the episode,' he said and she snuggled up next to him. 'It doesn't matter...we'll watch it again then" she said with a cheeky undertone and he kissed her extensively.

[plaguedocboi]

Waterfalls! These gorgeous, powerful features of nature have been oddly lacking in my past lists, I think in part because their danger has always seemed more “obvious” to me. But doing the research for this list has reawakened my phobia of the water. Some of the later entries (numbers 9 and 10 especially) brought back anxieties that I thought I had gotten over long ago, but it was kind of thrilling. Like watching a particularly scary horror movie. Let’s get into it!

1. Underwater Waterfall, Mauritius

No, it’s not really a waterfall. It’s just an optical illusion caused by sand falling off the island’s slope down into the deeper water below. But it looks cool and scary, and the drop-off is 2.5 miles deep so that’s pretty impressive and I think it deserves at least a mention.

2. Blood Falls, Antarctica

There’s nothing particularly dangerous about this one, it just looks incredibly creepy. Obviously, it’s not actually blood, it’s just water that’s very rich in iron. But the really fascinating part of this waterfall is that its source seems to be a subglacial lake that contains a unique microbial ecosystem which has been isolated for two million years! These microbes are like nothing else we’ve ever observed in nature before. They live in an incredibly cold and extremely saline lake, and metabolize sulfur and iron ions with no oxygen present. They are being used as a model to study what life on ice-covered alien planets could be like.

3. Khone Falls, Laos

This waterfall is not nearly as famous as some of the others on this list, which is surprising because it’s the widest waterfall in the world, with an average width of six miles! Although not particularly tall, it is the second most powerful waterfall in the world, more than double the power of Niagara Falls! The Khone falls divide the Upper and Lower Mekong river, making travel by boat between the north and south impossible. What makes it kind of unsettling to me is that during the rainy seasons the falls are basically swallowed up by the river, turning them from a spectacular waterfall to a series of massive rapids.

4. Huntington Gorge, Vermont

When water levels are low, this river is a popular and scenic swimming spot, and the canyon has an almost otherworldly quality with its unique bends and overhangs. Unfortunately, these very features are what makes it so dangerous. Much like the infamous Strid, the gorge is full of holes, steep drop-offs, and powerful currents hidden beneath the water, which can suck people in and trap them against the cliff walls. Over fifty people have died here since the 1950s, and many more have been injured. With proper precautions, one can safely explore the gorge and swim in the river, but don’t forget that this water has swallowed up many people before you.

5. Victoria Falls, Zambia

I’m sure most of you already know about Mosi-oa-Tunya, more widely called Victoria Falls, as the largest waterfall in the world. Formed as the Zambezi river pours into a series of massive gorges, this curtain of water spans nearly a mile and falls 300 feet with such force that columns of rising spray can be seen for miles around. Despite this, the pools around the lip of the falls can be relatively tame, and locals have fished while balancing on the edge of the cliff for generations. The safest and most famous of these fishing holes is the Devils Pool, which allows you to literally swim right up to the edge of the world’s biggest waterfall. The pool is actually very safe when the correct precautions are taken, and I can only find one death attributed to the pool specifically, when a tour guide in 2009 fell while trying to help a man who had slipped and was dangling off the edge (and, honestly, I was expecting a lot more deaths given the amount of clickbait articles advertising it as the most deadly swimming hole in the world). Although that was the only death from the Devils Pool, there have been many other deaths at Victoria Falls, mostly tourists who underestimate the power of the river or get too close to the edge. So if you ever visit this spectacular waterfall, please observe it from a safe distance and follow all the rules.

6. Huka Falls, New Zealand

This is not a traditional waterfall, but rather a series of small waterfalls along a narrow stretch of the Waikato river, creating an incredibly turbulent chasm that ends in a whirlpool. The 300-foot wide river is funneled into a 50-foot wide stream, causing a torrent of water that flows at a rate of 58,000 gallons per second. Obviously, this is not an area that you should get in the water, but not everyone takes that advice. There have been multiple deaths at this waterfall, and a few narrow escapes, including two swimmers who, incredibly, survived after trying to raft down the falls on pool toys. Please, for the love of god, don’t do that.

7. Niagara Falls, US/Canada

These falls are the only place on this list that I’ve visited, and I can tell you they are certainly an incredible sight, but also rather intimidating due to their sheer size and power. These three massive waterfalls are fed by the Great Lakes and, combined, have nearly 700,000 gallons of water thundering down every second. There is also a permanent whirlpool in the river that has existed for over 4,000 years and reaches depths of 125 feet! Besides being huge and awe-inspiring, these waterfalls are known for their appeal to daredevils who have gone over the edge in barrels or, in one case, a giant rubber ball. But these famous success stories are punctuated with tragedy. Roughly 20-30 people die at Niagara Falls every year. Most of these, sadly, are suicides, but others are failed attempts to replicate the successful daredevils of the past, and others are accidental. An estimated 5,000 bodies were recovered at the bottom of the falls between 1850 and 2011.

8. Murchison Falls, Uganda

Also known as Kabalega Falls, this is the worlds most powerful waterfall. Formed as the Nile River flows from Lake Kyoga to Lake Albert, this waterfall is so strong it literally causes the ground to shake around it. Here, the Nile is constricted from a river nearly 400 ft wide to a passage only 20 ft wide, creating an incredibly turbulent and violent tunnel of water that tears its way into the pool below at 79,000 gallons per second. And this is no ordinary pool. Waiting below the falls is the highest concentration of large crocodiles observed anywhere in the world, waiting for any dead or stunned animals caught in the falls to wash into their lair. Although the waterfall and surrounding park are now a beautiful tourist attraction and wildlife refuge, the history of the falls includes tales of human and animal sacrifices, thrown in alive to appease the gods that some believed resided beneath the raging waters.

9. Bath Fountain, Jamaica

This is just a random little waterfall along a hiking trail, but the video triggered some intense bathophobia in me for the first time in a while. Like, I was scared to get in the shower after watching this. Proceed with caution:

10. Kipu Falls, Hawaii

This one scares me because, despite my research, I can’t actually figure out what the hell is happening here. Multiple people have died here; all tourists, all drownings, all of seemingly very unclear causes. Kipu Falls is a beautiful and popular swimming spot, and locals frequently dive off the top of the falls with seemingly no danger. However, five deaths over the course of five years from 2006-2011 challenged its reputation of being a safe swimming hole. All the articles I could find seem to repeat the same information; there is no current in the pool and the waterfalls are not especially powerful. Despite these established facts, all five deaths were the same. Someone jumped in, surfaced, and then were dragged back down to the bottom of the pool and held there until they died. This has resulted in a lot of speculation, including everything from a hidden whirlpool current to evil spirits. I’m just. Really unsettled by the lack of information on this one. Every article I found was published in 2011 and I couldn’t find any updates, which hopefully means people aren’t still dying here, but… what the fuck???? Was going on????? Sorry guys this one might not be as dangerous as some of the others but it freaks me out a lot so it’s getting a higher rating. I want to know what’s going on but I’m sure not going to investigate it myself.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

gojo always seems to be off in a world of his own.

a little detached, you think. awkwardly long limbs constantly on the move, eyes stuck in a direction no one else can follow, a trajectory you don’t think even he knows. one blink and he's gone, just like that. too far ahead, too far above, even on the occasions he slows down and lets you catch up.

flimsy, maybe. like he’ll get carried away by the breeze when spring rolls around. like he’d turn into seafoam if you reached out and touched him.

satoru gojo is an anomaly, a blurry cluster of stars. or maybe more like a planet, big and blue, spinning around its own orbit, out of reach for every single star in the sky. high and mighty, cocky and cool, silly and bright — but there's a softness to him when he's alone. something that almost seems fragile, under the light of the moon, when the dark sky casts a shadow to obscure the contours of his face — and no one’s around to notice if his smile isn't as big as it should be.

no one except for you, anyhow.

(you wonder if your presence is really that inconsequential to him.)

the beach is entirely empty, save for you and gojo. and summer’s ending, burning into little cinders, sputtering out before your very eyes.

tokyo is just beginning to dip its toes into autumn, the frost and chill, the hiss of the biting wind. the rusting of leaves, contaminated by a muddy hue, turned orange and brown and red beneath your heavy feet; littering the murky, empty streets of the rainy towns you cross. smelling of rotten apples and cinnamon, old books and burning wood.

it’s dark out. painted a thick gray, the sky is blanketed by heavy clouds, the entire world hidden behind that coating of wool. not a single sliver of starlight slips through, but there's a comfort to it, that feeling of being cocooned — safe and warm. a feeling cruelly stripped away by the nipping of the wind at your bare skin, but you digress.

everything smells of saltwater. a little like rotten fish. every breath you exhale turns into a flurry of vapour, mingling with the breezy seasalt of the open air; scattering away into the thin layer of mist all around you, until you can’t tell which is which. 

and a sense of foreboding sinks into your veins.

(you look out at the jagged rocks piercing the surface of the sea, and dully wonder how they’d feel piercing your skin.)

something shivers, to your right. a flicker of movement, a barely audible chatter of teeth. and then, a white puff of vapour.

”man, it’s cold.”

gojo looks displeased. 

only vaguely, a little crease between his eyebrows as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his puffy baseball jacket. moving his feet a little, to warm up, snowy tufts of white hair tousled by the ocean breeze. his shoes are muddied by the wet sand, but he doesn't seem to mind.  

a soft scoff leaves your lips, mostly harmless. maybe just a little smug. ”told you,” you click your tongue. 

gojo whines. his sunglasses are starting to fog up, you notice. ”it’s still summer!” he pouts. ”i thought the sea would be nice and breezy!”

an unimpressed look smooths over your features. gracing him with a raise of your brow, you don’t fully manage to bite back the soft smile that follows. don’t even really attempt to.

it’s been a long day. evidently not long enough for gojo, seeing as he dragged you down here — even though he knew it meant missing the train you were supposed to board after successfully finishing your mission. he just had to get a closer look at the sea. just for a moment or two. 

and he was insistent, persuasive. awfully whiny. assuring you that he’d be quick, that you wouldn’t miss the next one. 

(what made you agree was simply the thought of spending some more time with him. not like you could ever tell him that, though.)

so there you stand. two juveniles, shivering and shifting from foot to foot, on the brink of nightfall, the edge of summertime. watching the sea stretch out into infinity, across the gap between this world and the next. a murky blue. easy on the eyes.

the noise of the sea fills your ears; waves crashing into sand, the whistling of the wind, seagulls crying out in the distance. and faraway, the chatter of a rattling train. a cacophony of sounds, buzzing and crackling, melting together. scattered across the beach are countless tiny white seashells, and the occasional green glimmer of drift glass — mermaids’ tears, shed for lost sailors, or so you’ve heard.

you wonder if the mermaids ever shed tears for lost sorcerers. probably not.

a shiver runs through your body, down to your cold hands, the tips of your fingers. reddish and itching for warmth. you tuck them into your pockets with a breathless exhale, still shaking a little. 

in truth, you and gojo aren’t very close. you’d like to call him a friend, but it's kind of hard; when he's so enamored with suguru, so animated around shoko. with you, he always seems kind of —

stiff? 

or maybe more like bored.

he doesn't laugh as loudly, doesn’t act as cocky. doesn't flaunt his knowledge on sorcery, and isn't as clingy as he is with the other two.

(you've never liked people touching you. it's not hard for others to discern, with how you flinch away when they get close.

still, you can't help but feel a little jealous when you see him tugging suguru and shoko around.)

deep within your chest, like a stunted seaweed, sprouts a tiny pang of disappointment. it’d be nice if you could grow closer, you think.

just a little would be fine. 

”i like the sea.”

you turn your head.

gojo looks a little lost in thought. gaze trained on that expanding ocean before you, those splotches of blue and gray, the waves that bruise the edge of the sand. forlorn, maybe.

a hum buzzes in your dry throat. ”do you?”

”mm.” little white breaths slip from his lips. you wonder if they’d taste as salty as the air. ”’ts nice.”

a silence stretches out before you. delicate, like a sheet of glass. gojo picks at a piece of lint on his sleeve, and you shift from foot to foot. then he closes his eyes — a flutter of his dewy eyelashes.

”kinda makes you feel like everything’s about to end, huh?”

you look at him, but don’t see anything. a single glimpse of his closed eyes is all you gain from the glance you cast his way, but it’s not enough. not enough blue to fall into, no expression to savour. he looks the same as always.

but you’ve never heard his voice sound like this before.

”… end?”

and with that, they flicker open. there it is, you think. that vibrant blue. only to be obscured once more, when he turns to you fully, a smile playing at his glossy lips. ”don’t think so?”

a second passes. you look forward.

what you see is as follows: waves upon waves upon waves. the same blue and gray, as far as the eye can see. a sea big enough to drown each and every one of your worries. 

something comes over you. a sensation of loneliness, something close to longing. a feeling of being rather lost. searching for something. your heart feels heavy, an anchor sunk to the bottom of your gut. little fish nipping at your ribcage. your eyes trail over those jagged rocks, again; the mermaids’ tears, that all-consuming sea, right in front of you. like it could open its maw and devour the world.

you think of the lost sailors.

(one jump and it’s all over.)

a breath. salty on your tongue. ”… i guess i get it,” you whisper. a soft murmur, mingling with the mist. 

silence.

out of the corner of your eye, you see gojo shift. one moment he’s looking at you, the next he’s staring at the sea. in tandem, the two of you, stuck within that shade of blue. and you think he looks a little mesmerized, like he’s seeing something not even he can fully comprehend.

(maybe he just hasn’t had many chances to go to the beach before. something to do with being a clan kid, maybe?)

but then he clears his throat, hands moving to brush some sand off his puffy jacket and jeans. turning on his heel, hair ruffled by the breeze. he tries to sound chipper, but there’s something else there. you don’t know what it is, but…

”anyway,” he chirps. ”let’s go. we can still make it to the next train if we hurry.”

you look at him. his retreating figure, a head of white hair, surrounded by mist. a little like an apparition. then you turn towards the sea.

”… nah, that’s fine.”

a pause.

gojo stills, just about to take the first step forward. but you stay rooted in place; unmoving, staring at the blue before you, a deep longing reflected in your eyes. 

”let’s stay a little longer,” you hum, unsure of where the words came from. but you know you aren’t ready for the moment to end, just yet. that you aren’t quite ready for summer to pass.

…

all he does is stare, for a second or two. attempting to find some humour in your voice, you assume, any signs that you might just be joking. but he doesn’t find it. uncharacterstically silent, gojo stays frozen in place. 

then he puffs out a breath — amused. 

”you wanna freeze to death?” he grins, and you can hear it in his voice. you turn to face him, almost smiling. a little cheeky.

”you’ll warm me up, no?”

the words fall from your lips before you can think to reel them in. meant to sound a little snarky, you think, something akin to a chuckle — but instead come out sounding a little too much like an honest request. 

the tips of your ears feel a little warm, suddenly.

a sense of surprise smooths over the contours of gojo’s face, and his grin falters. you can’t see his eyes, can’t tell if they widen or not, but his lips part, and you note that they look soft. 

and it’s back. that grin. toothy, boyish. his cheeks are rosy, from the chill of the air, or so you assume. then he’s taking a couple strides forward, broaching the distance between you.

he throws an arm over your shoulder. a heavy weight against you, grounding, causing you to stumble. friendly, tugging you close. into his orbit.

(no infinity, you note. you can feel his body heat seeping through the fabric.)

it's nice. he's tall, and he's warm. cozy, protecting you from the bitter cold, like your own personal furnace. no wonder suguru never catches any colds, with someone like this draped over him all the time.

gojo speaks. there’s a sweetness to his voice, a mellow kind of contentment; bubbling up like seafoam, spilling from his glossy lips. you can feel his warm breath on your skin.

”well, duh.”

when your gaze falls on him, he's already looking at you. leaning closer, sunglasses slipping a little further down the bridge of his nose — enough to expose the blue of his eyes, the tiny splotches of white scattered across his aquamarine iris. like a cracked marble. or a summer sea.

he’s speaking again, and you almost don't hear it. distracted by those cracked marbles, the strawberry red of his cheeks, the warmth shared between you. the pitter patter of your heartbeat, like waves crashing against the sand. mesmerized. not daring to look away. almost like you’d cease to exist, were he to close his eyes. like your existence hinges entirely on the blue of those eyes.

(and maybe it does.)

he nods towards the sea, and grins. a mischievous glint in his eyes. ”wanna take a dip?” he asks, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

it makes you laugh, either way.

”do you want to freeze to death?” you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. subtly angling your body closer to his, hoping he won’t notice.

gojo honest to god giggles, at that, and you fear your knees might give out beneath your weight. fuck, has he always had dimples? why are you only noticing them now? 

”hehe. i just think it'd be fun!” he chirps, still draped over you like an overgrown cat, and you almost find yourself saying yes. just to keep the summer from ending, keep him from being swept away by the breeze.

but summer is ending. slipping away, second by second, like two juveniles drowned by an ocean wave. never to be found. and in comes autumn, the smell of rotting apples, the crunch of sand beneath your feet; an arm over your shoulder, an intake of breath. the taste of nice, crispy air on your tongue. 

a chuckle flows from your lips. all you see before you is blue, a murky shade, a vibrant hue. you think you could drown in it. you’re not sure you’d mind.

”maybe next time,” you whisper.

gojo’s eyes widen. ever so slightly, barely enough to even notice, until they bloom — with a kind of bubbly excitement. unconcealed giddiness. there’s something awfully precious about it, like a child buying cotton candy at their first fair. it makes you want to tuck him into your pocket. keep him safe.

you like him, unfortunately. inevitably. you think you may even like him a lot, a little more than you should. a little more than he could reciprocate. 

satoru gojo. high and mighty, cocky and cool. silly and bright. a seaborne boy with his very own orbit, born to carry the weight of the world, spinning so close that you can almost delude yourself into thinking he feels the same. 

almost.

(gojo glances at your lips. he wonders if they’d taste as salty as the air.)

[synthetickitsune]

Oh, Death ✧ y.jh

Pairing: grim reaper!Yoon Jeonghan x reader (gn) Genre: angst without plot Summary: You've always thought death was beautiful and then you’re proven right just before your very own death when he comes to take you away. Word count: 1.3k Warnings: reader dies, implied suicidal thoughts and body image issues (very brief mentions for both) A/N: based on three banger lines (in bold in the fic) that @hanniedream dropped into my dms and then wrote her own amazing fic (with plot!!) that's much better than whatever this is so go read that (i'm just freeloading on bibi's big brain here)

You've always thought death was beautiful and then you’re proven right just before your very own death when he comes to take you away.

He stands there like an apparition of moonlight on a cold and rainy night, a single beam that would break the stormy skies and bring silence upon the world.

As if covered by a heavy blanket of snow, as if the time has stopped, all sound disappears from the world, from the street, from your room. You take a breath and you’re so startled you gasp again, self-conscious of the loud noise in the perfect silence.

His breathing is quiet and slow, methodical, as if he’s counting the beats of your heart before he breathes each time. It’s slow, you find, your heartbeat. Almost artificial in its steady tempo.

Somehow you feel like it’s stopped beating a long time ago, now only a memory meant to soothe you. Your body trying to save your life one last time, the memories of your cells working all together to keep you alive keep going even after their purpose was fulfilled until the last second. You look behind you - mean to look.

You can’t.

Not with the cold but gentle fingertips softly touching your jaw just as you’re about to turn back to take a look.

You’re startled again when your gaze turns towards what’s in front of you. He moved without a sound, crossing the expanse of space between you in just one second. Where are you? It feels like a dream. The split second of time between sleep and waking up, the short infinity when a lightning flashes in perfect silence and wakes you up from your sleep. You think you see stars, but they lose their shine against his eyes.

They’re the color of ice but hold the gentleness of melting snow, the water freed from its icy prison and searching for someone to embrace and mold itself against their shape. His touch is just like that snow, stealing your warmth slowly. You don’t mind it being drained as long as he keeps his fingers on your skin. He never warms up. His touch remains freezing and he looks apologetic for that. Yet there’s no reason. His cold is one of a breeze on summer’s day, a cold towel on your forehead when you’re tormented by fever.

You think you love him, death.

You understand that’s what he is. That there’s nothing that can be done about it, or about your demise. It’s not his place to decide about it, only to carry it out. He’s gentle. Quiet. As cold as his touch is, it doesn’t hurt you. You don’t remember any pain. You feel light, something akin to happiness buzzing under your skin. Elated. That’s how you feel. A reverent sort of happiness that you suppose comes after the hardship is over.

Is it an act of mercy that he won’t let you see the body that kept you alive? Or is it a rule he has to follow? You wish to see it. For all the complicated feelings you might’ve had towards it through your life, it was yours. It treated you as best as it could.

You lower your eyes like a child being scolded when his fingers stroke your cheek gently, preventing you from turning back for the second time. He’s patient. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do, but you’re sure it’s not lingering on the border between life and death, between the then and the to-be. Yet you do. It’s strange. You craved death so dearly, like a sweet candy after a bitter medicine, yet now that you’re parting with life you’re hesitant. Like wondering if you forgot to take your keys with you the moment the door is closed. Only this time, there’s no one to help you. Shedding your skin, like shedding your life in the world of living, is perhaps truly an act of mercy.

Of course you weren’t prepared for death, and for what comes after. No matter how much you longed for it and wished for it at times. It feels awkward. You’re glad someone is here waiting for you, guiding you. You’re sure he’s meant to guide you. It feels familiar. Did a similar scene happen before? Your memories are so hazy, your entire life flashing through your mind on a loop. Perhaps he’s there too somewhere, waiting like he’s waiting now for you to notice him.

You raise your gaze again and meet his eyes.

You always knew there was a reason you thought about and loved death as much as you did and now that you're face to face with him, everything made sense. death was beautiful. Death is beautiful.

You wonder if someone told him before.

Slowly he lets his hand fall, tracing your skin down your neck and towards your collarbones. Then lower. He caresses your sternum until his fingers stop just below it. You shiver. Like a deer staring into the scope of a rifle, you hold his gaze. They’re kind, his eyes. He’s kind. You feel no pain.

His soft eyes reassure you and comfort you. You start crying, and you see tears pooling in his eyes too until a single one overflows. You feel cold. The cold of staying in the pool for too long. The cold of sitting in the shower after the water stopped running, the droplets cooling on your skin, barely any heat remaining trapped in the fold of your curled body. 

His lips part only slightly. You want to hear his voice but he doesn’t say anything. Your breathing is erratic and too loud, you can’t even hear him breathing. Another tear spills. His other hand comes to hold your face like he did before. Gently, a barely-there touch. His hands are always gentle. Careful not to cause pain. Something is being ripped from you with his icy touch, but it doesn’t hurt. Does it hurt him? Is he taking your pain away? If so, you wish he didn’t. Seeing him cry is like watching an angel weep. It should never happen. No matter if he’s the opposite of an angel.

It feels like an ice shard is being pulled from your body, so slowly that the sharp edges don't cut you. Something heavy is being taken from you. Something that kept the blood, the hurt, inside you. What are you going to do without it? His fingers move smoothly to hold your chin up, so you don’t see what it is that he took from you. There’s a void in your chest left behind. A black hole swallowing everything, starving to fill the emptiness. It’s not hard to guess what it was that he took from you.

One more tear falls. You want to tell him it’s okay. Instead he leans closer. His soft breath caresses your skin. You close your eyes when he’s so close you can see the web of galaxies in his irises. His lips are like petals of a frozen flower against the skin of your cheek. When you open your eyes again, he’s crying. Silently.

He extends a hand towards you, stained ruby. You take it. It’s sticky and cold. It binds you together. 

If the stain remains, if it’s never washed away, will the blood spin itself into a string that would guide you back to him?

Without an answer, you follow him. For now, you only need to hold his hand. You don’t need to look for him if he found you.

And for now, that’s enough. 

For now, you feel him. 

Later you’ll look for ways to find him too.

[wcnderlnds]

here for you | peter parker

・❥・ summary: after getting kicked out, peter comes to the rescue like always ・❥・word count: 1.1k ・❥・warnings: n/a ・❥・ authors note: this is my first time writing for my beloved peter parker!! its also the first time ive wrote anything in like a month. this was a request from this list. feel free to request any!

The rain was falling hard in New York City. It was one of those cold, rainy nights that had most people bustling through the streets with their umbrellas hurrying to get home. Unfortunately, you were one of those people. The heavy thud of the raindrops falling on your umbrella and the usual sound of the busy New York traffic were the only things keeping you grounded in that moment. The puddles on the pavement soaked your favourite pair of boots as you aimlessly wandered, suitcase full of belongings trailing along with you as you dragged it across the concrete. This wasn’t how your day was supposed to go. Your original plan had been to sit in front of the fire, cup of cocoa in your hand as you watched Love Actually. Too bad you had forgotten to pay your darn rent. 

Money had been tight lately. Balancing a part time job and university was no easy feat. So much so that you had ended up sacrificing your job for the sake of your mental health. You had thought your savings would be enough until you had a better grip on things to find another job but you were wrong. The well had run dry and after another missed rent payment, your landlord had kicked you out. 

When it rained, it definitely poured.

As you stepped into a particularly deep puddle, the familiar sound of a ‘thwip’ sounded above you. Craning your neck up, you spotted none other than the famous Spider-Man perched on a lamppost, head tilted as he looked at you almost like he was examining you. The corners of your lips almost tugged up into a smile as you imagined the concern in his eyes under that mask. Peter Parker had shared his secret with you almost the day he’d found out himself. You were his best friend after all – the two of you told each other everything. The eyes on his mask widened in questioning.

“Got kicked out,” you shrugged. Saying it out loud made it feel all the more real. Not that walking through the streets with everything you owned in a suitcase didn’t.

After checking to make sure nobody was around to hear, Peter spoke. “Meet me at my place. Gotta take care of something first.”

With that, he swung away no doubt on his way to tackle some crime. At least in a city like New York, Spider-Man was never short of something nefarious to keep him occupied. The whole city was like a hub for superheroes and criminals at this point. It was so much so that you were almost desensitised to it. Maybe that had something to do with the fact your best friend was one of those superheroes. Your feet carried you to Peter’s apartment, knocking on the door when you approached. No answer. He must still be out. A sigh passed your lips as you sat on the floor, back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of you as you waited for that nerdy, cute friend of yours to arrive. The raindrops from your jacket were dripping on the floor. Huh, you hadn’t realised it had been raining that hard. Probably too lost in your own thoughts. 

It was ten minutes later when the door to the apartment opened – Peter must have swung in through his window. The pros of being Spider-Man meant you didn’t have to deal with such meander things as walking. Sometimes you wished that spider had bit you so you could swing your way through the city without a care. His mask was in his hand as you stepped through the threshold, the door shutting behind you. His big, brown eyes looking at you with concern.

“I know you have questions and I’ll answer but I really need to get out of these wet clothes right now,” you cringed as you pulled your jacket off, your jeans sticking to your legs.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sure, sure. You can… use the bathroom. You know where it is,” Peter nodded, his cheeks tinting pink at the mere thought of you getting changed in his apartment. He knew he shouldn’t have thoughts like that but he couldn’t help himself. Throughout the years Peter had somewhat started to develop feelings for you. It was something he beat himself up about every single day because there was no way you felt the same way for him. Why would you? You were incredible and he was… him. No, Peter would always keep this secret to himself. There was no way he was ever going to lose you so if it only meant friendship then he’d take it.

“You should have told me you were struggling to pay rent!” Peter exclaimed. Once both of you had gotten changed, you’d situated yourselves on Peter’s couch, a blanket thrown over the two of you as you filled him in on your situation.

“Peter, no offence but you can barely afford to pay your own rent let alone help me.”

“I would’ve found a way.”

A smile lit up your face, hand reaching out to give his a squeeze. “I know and I am so lucky to have someone like you looking out for me like that but I could never ask that of you.”

Peter’s eyes glanced down at your hand atop his, barely containing how sweaty his palm was starting to feel at your simple touch. He was down bad. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed down a gulp, shaking his head. “You know I’m always going to be there for you, right? Always. No matter what happens. I would do anything and everything in this world to help you and protect you. There’s nothing more precious to me than you.”

His words hit you straight in the feelings, your heart beating a mile a minute like it was about to burst out of your chest. The sincere look in his eyes, the way he always seemed to make you his number one priority – there was nobody who looked after you as fiercely as Peter did. Despite everything he’d been through with his family and losing Gwen, he had never let you down. The second your eyes met his it was like the whole world had stopped still. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat as Peter’s delicate fingers reached out to gently tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. His thumb brushed your cheek, the gesture making your stomach do flips.

“Stay here with me…. for as long as you want,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” you leaned into his touch. The moment lingering between you, neither wanting it to end. There would be many, many more moments just like this one – you just didn’t know it yet.

taglist: @strawb3rrystar @decaf-mother @ldydeath @mistysconcilium

[gofishygo]

giggling ab this okay so

imagine gaz n reader, they've just started to date

and reader is trans (ftm) but gaz doesn't know that yet

but then after a few weeks of dating reader is taking their T in the bathroom/bedroom and had forgotten to lock the door & gaz walks in oh no,,

YEAH so!!! i hope that's enough to.. you know. yeah!!!! i 💗 ur fics sm.

(we need more ftm fics RIGHT NOW!!)

whoEVER ANON IS . I LOVE U . Thank u so so so so much 4 this request my fingers have been acting to write m or ftm content u have appealed to my deepest desires . myways this rq is super silly i love chilled out gay mf and nervous closeted trans mf dynamic so much. 

Also posted on trans visibility day lets GOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

the same (always changing); kyle 'gaz' garrick + trans male! reader (979 words)

notes: some implied and described internalised transphobia, mentions of transphobia, mentions of gender dysphoria, reader does not have top surgery yet, partial nudity on reader (non-sexual), little hurt/comfort type w/ fluff at the end !!

-

It wasn’t meant to be a secret. It really wasn't.

But here you are, cooped up in the cold premise of your shared bathroom, waiting for the gel to dry into your skin as you stare at your figure in the mirror, noticing the little changes with a strange sense of europhia. You wished you could run back to the arms of your boyfriend as you ramble about how good the hormones have been working, how you can see your outer shell peeling open to show the man who's been living in the inside, a feedback loop that had you seeing yourself in reflections instead of skin and hair and face that you'd barely recognised. Maybe his face would melt into that gorgeous smile, arms pulling you closer to him like he's seeping off the happiness he swears he sees seeping off your skin's pores. But it's the flip of a coin, a winning ticket in an uncertain lottery.

you're not so sure if Kyle would love the kind of person you were.

gender hadn't ever been a point of focus in your conversations, never something that had to be caught and pinned down with word or thought. he was a man, you were a man, and you loved each other. both of you did your best to keep it at that simplicity. but part of you, like the serpent to adam and eve, had always doubted whether kyle would look at you with the same eyes if you somehow ended up showing him your childhood photos or now-invalid passport, the face that was still soaked with dysphoria-ridden tears. 

the gel is still sticking to your ribs when the door practically flies off its hinges slamming against concrete walls and gaping open your closed eyes with ugly sound. There's a groan of exasperation that should make you giggle, but only makes already tense muscles almost turn to stone. "honey, you done ? really need to take a fat shi-" 

And then there's that silence both unsurprising but dreaded, how it felt to inhale smoke. 

You hate the shock as his eyes run over your bare chest in realisation, feeling any words about to come out crawling back into your windpipe as he notices the thin layer of gel and the label of the bottle on the sink. 

"love?" he calls, an endearing substitute replacing your name. you didn’t know if he'd call you that, even after this revelation. Or did he not know what else to call you now that this had been revealed ? "kyle," you echo. 

please just look at me, kyle. 

his eyes still look the same as how they look at you; stormclouds that accompany you on lonely and rainy nights, and your eyes can't help on focus on the pretty shade of grey instead of the battering of water droplets hitting against tin. Not once  does it ever shift to malice or hatred- only worry, for you, maybe. 

"do you want to talk about it right now ?" isn't the response that you expected. It's an gentle offer, and extended hand waiting for you to take or push away, more freeing than astute observations of your perceived identity or the bitter words hissed out when others had realised. You can only nod your head in response. 

"im sorry," you say, and you don’t know how much (what you're) apologising for. Sorry for never telling you. Sorry for making a distance that could have been avoided. Sorry for being this without your permission, anyone else's permission. 

but he's quick to hold you and the shame that you carry , not minding any of the gel residue on his shirt. "hey, no, it's okay," his voice is gentle, reaching out for your secluded self. "remember what I told you when we first started dating?" he puts a hand to your head, playing with your hair as he pulls you closer to him. "I love all of you, dove. Everything." he rests his chin onto your shoulder, murmuring the words into your ear. And you can't help but hug back, clinging to him like a lifeline. Your lifeline. "I love you too," you muse.

you both stay there for a minute before he pulls away with a complaint of some back pain from a recent mission, and you kiss his nose, allowing yourself to smile for the first time since he'd entered the room. "so.." you start, now perched on the rim of the bathtub. "you're ok with me being trans?"

you giggle when he deadpans at you, "love, I just hugged you for 5 full minutes after seeing you apply testosterone instead of taking a shit. I don’t really care if you're trans." 

and after your testosterone dries and you put on your shirt, you both in bed, tangled up in each other's arms. ramblings about little stories or town gossip. professions of grandiose love guised under quiet murmurs. the hormones are still a little crusty on your skin, but they're doing the work that should have been done since birth. 

The same, always changing. 

[clawsdevour]

HIIIIIII OMG CONGRATS FOR 1K! can i request pizza and ice skating if they're not taken? thank u sooooooo much for all your hardwork, i love ur writing 😻😽

first snow

wc: 0.5k content warning: post-timeskip, established relationship, fluff, hinata x reader, not proofread

-> pizza : hinata shoyoooo -> ice skating : scenario where reader and character celebrate their first snow together (first love trope!) ᱸ ♡︎𓈒݂݂ . , 𐬏  a/n: SOFIEE THANK YOUUU QUEEN !!! IK TSUKKI IS UR FAV BUT I STILL HOPE U ENJOY THIS SCENARIO WITH HINATA <3

⋆ ·˚ ༘ * .ˏ

It’s been almost half a year since you two made it official. Going from friends to lovers, putting a status on your relationship to clarify the love you two hold for each other. Everyday’s like a refreshing new journey with Hinata.

One day, he’s glued onto your side as you two converse throughout the whole day. Spending each waking moment with each other, sharing laughs and making new memories at all seconds of the day despite it only beeing 7 months since you guys began dating.

You always hoped you’d make it to winter, and there you are proving yourself wrong. 

December rolls by. The cold and gloomy weather starting to paint the shy and frosty atmosphere as it descends into it’s chilling season. Snow hasn’t started to pile up yet, it was more of the rainy usual foggy weather that always never fails to send chills up your spine.

Today was the fifth day of the month and you’re about to go out with Hinata just to hang out and see how the day unfolds.

Sliding your fluffy cozy socks over your legs as you get ready to put on your warm shoes before heading out. You hear the door bell ring, meaning he’s here and early to pick you up.

“Just a minute!” slipping the last shoe on before swiftly grabbing your bag and twisting the door handle.

“Hey, you hungry?” Hinata’s toothy grin radiating his content face from behind his scarf as his hands shuffle in his pockets.

“Yup, let’s go already!!” shutting the door behind you and looping an arm around his to lead him the way out of your neighborhood.

Taking a stroll out of your residential area in the cold till you reached the bustling town that glowed its yellow bright lights, there are so many different options for food. Pointing at food stalls that annually show up, you just can’t help yourselves as you and Hinata raced over to get a munch out of that freshly made takoyaki.

Finishing your filling snack at the stand, looking up. The sky’s starting to set, becoming a dark grey as it transitioned to pitch black, carefully lit up by the lights that surrounded the city. The temperature dropped to a degree so low you could see the particles of ice in the air form.

“Hinata.. Look,” you whispered, completely mesmerized as you saw the first snow of the year with your boyfriend.

“..Woah!! That’s snow alright, more like.. Our first snow?” looking down at you with this gushy expression on his face as the tints of his cheeks turned a bright pink due to the cold and the blood rushing up his face.

You can’t help but let the widest smile on your face spread on your lips, jumping onto him for a heartwarming hug as you two looked at the brightly colored snowflakes twinkle in the light.

masterlist here | 1k event here

[xxkiller-muffinxx]

That's my girl

John Dory x reader part 2/2

Summary: John Dory shows up out of nowhere (again), but with that he brings trouble, the trouble of the mind and the heart.

Words: 2582

Warnings: too much fluff, it hurts- also still no color coding cuz I'm lazy and when I'm writing this its almost midnight.

A/N: welp, this is longer than my usual. Yeah this is part 2 to a thing that honestly wasn't supposed to be in parts, but new years was banging so you know I had to. Little Thing, if the caterpillar snail confuses you, imagine a motor bike, I tried to word it better: but some things are just not made to make sense. Aso don't judge the gif choice man, desperate times come for desperate measures. I forgot to add tags again 😔

Previous

➷➹➷

For a while, you kept your distance again. Wondering how this all happened. How everything went downhill for you so fast. Now that you have the house to yourself you now have a lot of dead air to think about. (Your dad’s not dead, he just wanted to seek a path in white water rafting. Whatever that means.)

You silently read an old scrapbook, it was your favorite genre and you loved just sitting down and getting to the end. Especially on rainy days like these. Right as you got to the climax there was a knock on the door. Admittedly you aggressively rolled your eyes.

You closed the book and set it aside, who's knocking at this hour? Right before midnight? Your book needs reading! your fish needs walking! You don’t have a fish, you're just irritated, you can’t read your book. As you closed in on the door you stopped. What if it’s an intruder? Or worse, a monster who suddenly gained the sentience to knock! You would never know until-

“Buttercup?” John Dory’s voice shakes through the door, There’s faster knocking. “It's cold out here!”

You've never opened a door so fast in your life.

As soon as John made it inside you glared hard at him. You wanted to scold him but your silent anger was getting nowhere. He was too busy admiring the inside of your home. Then his eyes landed on you.

You breathed heavily, walking over to grab your book and then walking back to him. He gave you the same dumb, doe-eyed look he always does when he's gotten himself in a bit of trouble. You gently slapped the book on his stomach then walked to put it on the shelf. His quiet shocked laugh brought you back to the center.

You pointed for him to sit and quickly made him some hot cocoa perfect for the season. You walked over and sat next to him. Handing him the glass. “Thanks Buttercup. You mean the world to me.” He chugged the hot cocoa, just fast enough to not catch the break in your calmness traded for bashfulness.

When you calm back down, you cross your arms. Your nose flaring and your lip pouting. John looks you in the eyes, his lips pursing as he thought about a good response. “Can you blame me? You have me wrapped around your finger.” He says playfully.

Your eyebrow raises. You don’t flinch or retreat. You narrow your eyes at him. His grin falls as he catches your unwavering worry. “I uh. I just missed you. It’s been a week and I wanted to see you. At least once.” When you didn’t accept that as an answer he got a little frustrated. “I know that isn't a good excuse but what do you want from me? To let the one person I've had close in years just drop out like that?”

Your other eyebrow raised, silently asking if he was okay. Then in a moment you caught his cockiness slip. That's when you knew something was wrong. You leaned forward and looked into his eyes ruffling his hair to gain his attention. His eyes met yours and it didn't take him long to pull out a vinyl. “It's the only way I could talk about my feelings to you without being a coward.” he blushed deeply. You cock your eyebrow again then roll your eyes. You stood up and went to put it on your record player.

(feel free to listen then move on or not listen at all)

As the song plays, you listen to the lyrics, your back to John as you listen to the words. His soft voice played on the track and you could almost hear the sweat dripping from his forehead. You were too focused on the lyrics to even look at him.

Your skin, oh, yeah, your skin and bones.

Turn into something beautiful

You know, you know I love you so

You know I love you so.

Then it clicked. This wasn't him just showing you a brozone song. No, no heaven knows you listened to Brozone’s music and it's nothing like this. This is gentle and soft. Not throw yourself into a dance song, but that's what you wanted to do. Take his hand and gently dance with him.

However, when you realize that's wanted, the song is already over. You took a while to realize it, but what had transpired wasn't platonic. Not anymore. It was the bridge that led two ways. You just had to figure out which was which.

“Yeah-” John’s voice cuts you free from your mind. “It's not much, it's kind of rushed. Is that weird? That you were gone for a week and I realized I…I can't even say it out loud. I'm…interested. In you. I wanted to see if you wanted to see where this was going.”

You turn around finally, your hand covering your mouth and your otheraying across your stomach. You wondered how you probably looked crazy, but you didn't care. At least not until he pointed out what should have been obvious. You were crying.

“Buttercup! I didn't mean, oh shoot I didn't think that I'd- I'm sorry I take it back!” He gently began panicking. The pacing panic. You wiped your face and looked at your hands, sure enough you were crying. You shook your head, unsure how to tell him that you were okay, just moved by the fact he'd write a song for you.

He took that as rejection and frowned. “Yeah. Yeah. I get it. It's okay. I understand.” he was about to turn around when you grabbed his arm. Damning your inability to speak. You looked around for a piece of pen and paper. However, there was nothing. (you were not writing in your precious book.)

You were scrambling, trying to communicate, but you were only tearing up and crying more. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. Your eyes watery and your nose red and puffy. He looked away then looked at you. “I am so confused right now.” JD squeezed your hand in return.

You did the unexpected. In a fit of confused, misguided, and intolerant anger. You grabbed his face and kissed him. Right then and there. When you pulled away your eyes were wide and so were his. You were about to move away when he just pulled you back in for another kiss.

The second kiss is more sweet and dedicated than the first, your hands moving to gently press into his chest. His hands gently held your head and waist as if you were to fall. It made you feel safe.

Then you both pulled away relaxing into your spots across from each other and your face turned beet red again. How dare he need that good of a kisser? you were just proving a point and now you're the one wrapped around his finger. You try to look away but with his hand snugly holding your head, you couldn't physically do so.

In silence, John Dory’s smile grew from a smirk to a dopey grin. You felt a wave of embarrassment pass through you. “Sweet mother of all things Trolly! You never cease to surprise me Buttercup!” he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up, spinning you around as you giggled very softly again. He then pulled you in for a hug. “I'm glad you feel the same. You don't know how much it means to me.”

You guys stayed in a hug for a while. He was holding you so tight that it felt like he'd never let go, ever. Then you got an idea. You pulled away first, and that admittedly made him confused. You walked to the record player and played his song again. Offering him your hand.

He laughed, grabbing your hand and pulling you in for a dance. Not a fast dance, just a slow dance, A comfortable dance. Youve never felt so warm and cozy in your life. Maybe your book can wait for a few more hours. You're not in a rush.

⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠

For the next few years you would have a casual relationship. To the point where no one inherently knew you were dating until John would make some sweet comment about you with your back turned.

As you rode gently into your 30s John was right there beside you. Celebrating each birthday, bigger than the last. You were grateful you got stuck with a guy like John, every day was like a gossip story and he'd tell you every fact about Brozone there ever was. You soon became the team’s number-one fan.

That was, until the unexpected happened. John Dory received a message from his brother that he was in danger. Locked in a diamond prison that only the perfect family harmony could save him from.

“So I have to find my brothers, then save Floyd.” He’d proclaim to you. You raised an eyebrow as you picked up his mess in the bus, he'd probably be taking it and if there were any guests you'd want them to be comfortable. “You know…” he turned around to greet you, walking to throw the trash in the bin outside.

You gave him a look, you knew what he was going to say. “You could come with me, meet my brothers? Join in on the adventure?” he’d ask before you shook your head. You gestured outside and then walked up to him to gently kiss his cheek. “Yeah, I get it, but you're still meeting my brothers, I don't know what I'll have to do for that to happen but you will.” he kissed your forehead and got behind the wheel. You let him know you love him then walk out of his bus to not wait any longer.

You walk to the front of the bus and pet the armadillo before stepping back, and waving goodbye. As he left a pit rolled up in your stomach. A worry pit. You felt like you should've gone with him, but you'd only slow him down. So you went inside. Deciding its a good time to catch up on some reading.

⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠

You learned to live with the pit after a while, you used a small messenger creature to send little I love you notes, but you haven't gotten anything in return. It made it worse, and then right as it neared sundown on the second day he was gone, you had had enough. You walked outside. Going to the corner to pull something out of your sleeve that he’d never expect.

⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠

After the show, John was laughing backstage at something Clay said, holding his stomach as him and his brothers all laughed in unison. He was the first to stop laughing, and when he did. He saw his entire family. Laughing together as if it were the holidays. Which is around a troll’s happiest time.

All that was missing was…

JD’s eyes shot up and he placed a hand on your forehead. “Oh shoot, Buttercup! Oh geez-” he looked up dusting himself and pulling his jacket more clothed and preparing to leave when Bruce chimes in.

“Where are you headed, John?” He’d ask. His voice laced with familiar suspicion. The entire room looks at him, as if awaiting the incredible response he'd spew out now. John stuttered quietly. Then leaned on a wall next to him.

“I have a misses I have to get home to thank you very much.”

There was silent, for a whole minute straight until laughter amongst the brothers (except Floyd honestly) rang out. Everyone's eyes briefly snapped to them. Viva slapped Clay’s arm and he went quiet for a second only to start dying laughing again. Branch wiped a tear and crossed his arms. “You? You have a “misses”? you're just full of surprises.”

JD laughs softly, confused, his brothers are laughing “I'm serious, they're perfect. I want you all to meet them so badly, but they stayed to take care of things there.” He crosses his arms tight over his chest, deciding to just smile through the pain.

JD ignored all the mindless snorts and chuckles after that comment, or tried to anyway. He shook his head “ you'll see, I'll introduce them to you guys and I'm gonna be laughing at you guys!” He walks out to the stage to head home that way.

He grumbled slightly, angry that his brothers would doubt him, but could you blame them? They are brothers after all. he's not grumbling for long because the sound of a growling animal snaps him out of his thoughts. Within an instant, something shoots from the dark, surrounding him in a dirt cloud and the sound of a creature going “meeeeeeeeh” like a motorcycle.

John screamed, a comically loud scream. That attracted everyone inside. They all rushed out only to see the scene unfolding before them. “Hey!” Branch was the first to yell. “Leave our brother alone!” the others banded together and got into fighting poses until everything stopped.

The loud noises, fast movements, and it was just silence for ten seconds until emerging from the cloud was a figure with bucket helmet, and sunglasses over the front. The creature they were riding on was some sort of caterpillar snail, similar to a motorbike.

John looked up at the figure and grinned awkwardly. When the person takes off their mask he gasps louder than he's ever gasped before “BUTTERCUP!” He shoots up. Wrapping you in his arms and lifting you high into the air.

You giggle and wrap your arms around his head until he puts you down. You take off your shades and swing your hair a little bit to get rid of the helmet shape. He was so excited to see you he could explode. “You gave me a good scare, I'm sorry I didn't go home right after saving Floyd I just had to catch up with everyone and do a show with them one last time, you had to see the show, in fact, I think someone recorded it, I'll get that to you as fast as possible!”

“Who is that?” Clay asked, a bit too accusingly. You blush and hide behind JD in fear. He crackles and pushes you forward.

He holds you tight as he introduces you by name. “They are my buttercup, my everything. The one who kept me afloat during all my turmoil. The one who-” You slap him in his arm, causing him to laugh. You bow your head to greet them.

Then you all gather around to talk, enjoying meeting the brothers for the first time. Branch is just the definition of sweet and sour, his girlfriend is the whole package everything you'd want in a party planner honestly. Floyd was the perfect sweetheart and Clay was fun to watch with his small misadventures with Viva. Bruce was definitely the one who talked to you the most, asking you genuine questions about why the hell John dory of all people. You answered as modestly as possible, not having an answer at that moment.

Then you caught sight of John wallflowering. You frowned and walked over, leaning on the same wall he was. He smiled at you, his gaze lingering oh yours for a minute before he kissed your cheek gently. You raised a brow. He laughed softly. “That's my girl.” he’d say before wrapping an arm around you lovingly.

End

[wizard-on-whales]

Rainy Days

NSFW - Minors do NOT interact

You and James are relaxing on the porch, listening to the storm while enjoying the soft touches of one another

Warnings: Smut, sweet praises, cussing, James being lovey, reader is the same age as James (sorry but I adore older couples)

✭-----------------------------✭

You and James lay in eachothers arms on your back porch listening to the rain hitting the tin roof that covered it. The porch had a large outdoor sofa for the two of you to lay on, which you often did. Whenever James was off tour he would spend most of his time back here, watching the birds and listening to the sweet noises they made. Almost every morning he would wake up, make the two of you coffee, and come sit out here and wait for you to wake up and join him. However, this morning it was a cooler day and it had been pouring down rain all night and into the early hours. It was still dim out, the sun hardly above the horizon and covered by the dark gray clouds that filled the sky. When you woke up you didn't think he'd be out here, but you searched the house for him, finding him nowhere in sight, so you checked the last place you could think of. You smiled and slid the heavy glass door open just enough for you to squeeze through before closing it behind you. He looked back at the noise and gave you a soft smile, handing your cup out to you. It was still warm, steam rose from the hot liquid as it collided with the cold air surrounding it. You shivered slightly, pulling your cardigan further around you as you sat down in your typical spot next to your lover. He sat his mug down on the table in front of the couch, the “J” on the front of it facing towards both of you before wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You took a sip of yours before setting it next to his, your own initial on display. James laid back a bit, pulling you down with him.

“Good morning,” you finally spoke, kissing his white stubbled jaw. He smiled down at you, rubbing his hand down your back and taking in the sight of your still tired frame. His hand warmed your skin easily as It always did, his tattooed fingers playing with the soft, thick fabric that covered you.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” He replied, enjoying the feeling of your warm lips against his jaw. He grabbed the hand you had draped over his waist and set it against his chest, right over his heart. The beat of it was something you had learned to memorize, even when it was rapid and irregular. It had its own song that it sang all day, every day, keeping him alive. You smiled as you felt the calm thud of it against the palm of your hand. The sound of the rain hitting the tin made your eyes droop, the feeling of sleep still not fully shaken as you had woken up just a few minutes prior. James continued to rub your back, the manner soothing like always.

“You can go back to sleep baby, I'll be right here,” He whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead. You cuddled closer to him, closing your eyes and only listening to his soft breathing and the storm continuing on. The leaves of the trees rustled in the distance, several falling off with each gust of wind to signal the changing of the seasons. Autumn was quickly approaching and the warm Colorado summers would be quickly forgotten by cool breezes and the familiar smell of everything pumpkin. You smiled to yourself, imagining all the things you would make James do with you like you did every year. Despite your children having grown up and moved on to their own lives it didn't stop you from going to the pumpkin patch or apple orchard. And now that your children were starting to have kids of their own, you could bring your grandchildren along.

“I love you,” you mumble quietly against James' chest. His arms squeeze you slightly, causing you to open your eyes and smile up at him. He smiled back, the same grin you had fallen in love with all those years ago. James had changed so much through the years, growing as a person, but behind his silver hair and the signals of the ever passing time covering his features, he was still the same sweet boy you met in highschool. The one with the fuzzy blonde hair and stupid jokes. He was your forever boyfriend, even if you had gotten married years ago. He looked over you, a hand swiping through your own graying hair, it wasn't nearly as white as his but it had been quickly catching up the past few years. He grabbed your arms, pulling you up further so that he could place a kiss on your lips. It was a sweet and passionate one, forever full of love.

“I love you more,” He replied as he pulled away from you, giving you another soft look. You brought your hand up, tracing the tattoos on his neck with your finger. He could feel goosebumps rise across his skin at your gentle touch, despite all these years you still made him feel like a teenager. You made him feel like he could conquer the world, and you believed that he could. His biggest supporter from day one, always cheering him on even at his lowest points. James cupped his hand around the back of your neck, pulling your lips back to his in another passionate kiss, only this time it was wetter. His tongue swiped over your lip, asking for permission before pushing into your mouth. You scoot your body up further, making the angle easier as you hover over him. Your fingers continue to trace patterns on his neck, your other hand resting on his chest, giving his peck a small squeeze. He smiles against your lips at your actions, pulling away just long enough to mumble “naughty” against you, before going back to tasting you.

Even after all these years, you filled his heart with so much love, and despite being sober, he could still get drunk on the taste of you alone. The feeling of your skin against his, the soft sounds you would whisper in his ear. It drove him wild. You drove him wild. He wrapped his arms firmly around you before shifting your position so that he was on top of you. One hand slipped under your shirt, feeling the soft, warm skin that was hidden underneath. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling his chest right against yours. He pulled away from your face to catch his breath, giving you a smile and placing a sweet kiss on your cheek. You let out a soft laugh, shivering slightly as his cold fingers slip under the waist of your sweatpants. He kept his eyes on yours, watching your face as his fingers felt your silky, sensitive skin. Your heart sped up in anticipation, already desperate for more of him. For all of him.

You bit your lip, feeling shy under his gaze and looking down at his hand between your legs. His finger drug up your slit, rubbing small circles around your clit.

“Look at me baby, I wanna see those pretty eyes,” He whispered, kissing your cheek again. You looked back at him, his ice blue eyes shining as bright as ever. He gave you another smile, his fingers applying more pressure causing you to arch your back slightly. You let out a small sigh, your eyes fluttering as they try to stay open for him.

“James, please,” You whine, lifting your hips against his hand. Your simple words were enough to send him over the edge, his self control gone. He removes his hand from your pants to pull them down and toss them off to the side. He quickly did the same for his, discarding them on top of yours. He lines himself up with your entrance, sliding his tip between your folds a few times before pushing into you with a familiar stretch. You both let out a quiet moan, hardly loud enough to hear over the rain still pattering on the tin roof. You moved your hands from his shoulders, pushing his shirt up a bit to wrap your arms around his exposed back, your fingers tracing his spine, causing him to shiver. James watched himself disappear as he pushed all the way in. His eyes flicked back towards yours, meeting your gaze. He leaned down and connected his lips to yours this time even more desperate than the last.

“Move?” He whispered, closing his eyes and pressing his nose to your cheek. You nodded your head, letting out a quiet “yes” and closing your own eyes. His hips started their slow movements back and forth, his tip dragging against your sweet spot with every motion. James rested his body fully on top of yours, not having the strength to support himself on his arms. You pulled him tighter, placing a small kiss against his temple as he buried his face into your shoulder, the pleasure already too much to bear.

“Ohh, Jamie,” You whine quietly in his ear. Those words had always been his favorite, like honey to him. You were the only person he let call him Jamie. In highschool you called him that to tease him but over time the nickname stuck and it became one of his favorite things you called him, he looked forward to when you would whisper the sweet words in his ear or proudly announce to the world that he was Jamie…your Jamie.

Your sweet moans in his ears caused his hips to move faster, one hand squeezing between your bodies and pressing against your clit, encouraging you to finish before him since he knew he wouldn't last long. Your fingers gripped his back, your fingernails digging in just slightly, giving him even more pleasure. His quiet groans and sweet nothing in your ear caused your release to build quickly. You raised your hips against his hand, your moans getting louder as you got closer and closer. His fingers and hips moved faster, the wet sounds between your legs mixing with sound rain hitting puddles that had formed next to the porch. Finally, you felt the familiar sensation overcome your body, causing you to jerk under him, your ears ringing quietly and your vision blurring. James' hips snapped back and forth as he followed you, filling you up with everything in him. He let out one last groan, lifting his head from your shoulder to look between your legs as he pulled out, thick strands of his cum following, coating your legs and spilling out of you.

“Fuck, your perfect,” He bit back another moan as he dove back to your lips, his saliva mixing with yours. He drops his head back to your shoulder, stretching his legs out fully so that he was no longer on his knees. You bring your hand down, giving his ass a playfully squeeze causing him to flinch and smile against your neck. James grabbed your sides, tickling you gently, causing you to squeal and wiggle under him. You couldn't control your laughter as you try to push his hands away from your sides.

“James stop!” You giggle, bringing your knees up to try and push him away from you. James stops and kisses you again. The two of you just look at each other for a few minutes, your fingers playing with his silver hair as his thumbs gently rub your sides. The cool, gentle breeze blows against your exposed skin and the wetness between your legs, breaking your eye contact. You glanced over at the coffee table, before giggling again slightly.

“We forgot about our coffee,” James diverts his gaze to where you were looking, smirking at the forgotten, and long now cold cups sitting there. He looks back at you, giving you his typical shit eating grin.

“I think I found a better way to wake up,” He lets out a boyish laugh, collapsing fully on top of you again. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, the feeling of his weight on you causing you to let out a content sigh. The wind continues to blow the trees around and the rain continues its soft song, the sun finally peeks through the clouds. For what seems like the millionth time in your life, you smile, thankful for the company of your lover and the way he'd forever make you feel like a teenage girl.

✭-----------------------------✭

Oh to be his high school sweetheart and grow old with him :(

[lost-in-lamentation]

💉🌧 - sick fic, rain.

lucifer × gen!reader. fluff.

warnings: lucifer gets sick, kind of collapses, nothing serious.

content: on a rainy day, lucifer lends you his umbrella. he discovers the consequences later.

back to the 500 follower event: here.

lucifer has always been prepared for anything. even the rainy days, which are scarce in the devildom to begin with.

the rain continuously pelts against the windows of his office in RAD, rattling the frames as it fights to keep the inside world dry. quietly, lucifer overlooks the proposed curriculum for a new devildom mathematics class as you scribble away on your own assignments. the demon enjoys these moments, when neither of you can be bothered by anyone from a specific set of individuals. but the rain is only getting worse, and lucifer needs to prioritise.

“MC, are you done your work?”

you stretch your arms above your head, a soft yawn escaping you as you nod your head. “just about. should we head back?”

“yes. the rain may only get worse if we wait any longer.” lucifer hears you hum in agreement and begins to pack his own things away. the papers rustle as he slides them into a folder; a gentle sound compared to how it continues to rumble outside. he tells you he’ll wait at the front doors for you, grabbing the umbrella he keeps just in case from the shelf. you don’t take long to finish, but when you run up to meet him, lucifer can’t help but notice the way you’ve draped your uniform jacket over your head. “do i want to ask what you’re doing?”

“well…” shifting your weight from side to side, lucifer can tell you’re debating your options. “i don’t have an umbrella.” the avatar of pride shoots you an incredulous look, causing you to stutter. “look, i- it barely rains down here! you can’t just expect me to have an umbrella at the ready!”

all of a sudden, you’re pouting at lucifer, and he is at a loss for words. he scans you carefully, releasing a resigned sigh as he holds his umbrella out to you. “we’ve wasted enough time.”

you shake your jacket into its original place as you take the umbrella. “what about you?”

“i would prefer if you were protected from the rain.”

“you’ll get sick if you walk in the rain.”

“nonsense. that only applies to humans.”

lucifer learns it does not apply to only humans.

three days later, beel is knocking quietly at your door, reporting that lucifer has not been seen for the last 24 hours. you suppress a cheeky grin, promising the concerned twin that you would go and check on the eldest. you pad down the hallway in almost complete silence, the carpeted floor doing well to muffle your footsteps. your knuckles rap softly against lucifer’s door, but before you can get a response, the door creaks open by itself.

“lucifer?” you whisper into the pitch black room, waiting for your vision to adjust to the darkness as you shut the door behind you. “lucifer, where in diavolo’s name are you?” you hiss in feigned annoyance, pulling your d.d.d. out of your pocket to use the screen as a flashlight. finally, you see him; sitting on the ground, propped up against the couch rather than on the couch itself. despite the lack of lighting, you can tell that his hair is dishevelled, and his breathing comes out erratic instead of steady. carefully, you shuffle to his side, pocketing your phone so that you have both your hands free. your fingers are gentle as you brush the stray hairs out of his face, and your hands, cold to the touch, have lucifer leaning into you for a fraction of a second. “you’re burning up…”

instantly, pride returns. lucifer pulls away from you, eyes wide as he struggles to gain his bearings. “MC, my room is not one where you can come and go when you’d like,” he rasps, pulling himself up while he pretends he wasn’t just unconscious on the ground. “leave before i curse you.” the demon forces himself to his feet, face twisted in concentration as he tries not to tremble where he stands.

you straighten your back to stand next to him, arms held out in front of you in the event that lucifer fails to continue to stay upright. “you don’t look like you can curse anyone like this, lucifer.”

the air turns hot from his displeasure. “regardless, there is no reason for you to be in here.” lucifer can only manage a step before a migraine takes a hold of him. there are claws digging into his skin and a chasm splits his head in two, forcing him to his knees.

“lucifer!” you’re at his side in an instant, pulling his hands away from his head and gathering him into your arms. he gives in to you right away, his body weight pressing on you as the strength is sapped from him. his breathing, you notice, is jagged; he can barely take one full breath without it being interrupted. “lucifer, you need to lie down.” with much effort, you slide closer to the couch, counting yourself down mentally before pushing him up onto the cushions. when he groans at the movement, you can’t help but shush him softly, carding your fingers through his already mussed hair. you keep it up for a few minutes, waiting until his breathing evens out to slip away. but the eldest brother, sharp as always, calls out to you before you can leave.

“MC?”

you never thought you’d hate to hear lucifer so weak. “i’ll be right back, okay?” in record time, you run down to the kitchen to get him some water, as well as a spare rag just in case. by the time you return, lucifer is already sitting back up, dazed eyes lighting up ever so slightly when you appear in front of him. “didn’t i tell you to lie d-”

“don’t leave me.” you inhale sharply, attention snapping back from the things you gathered to the sick demon on the couch. “i won’t know what to do if you leave.”

carefully, you set your things down on the coffee table behind you. “i would never leave you, lucifer.”

“you just did.”

“i went to get you water,” you say in a low voice, reaching behind and grabbing the water bottle for him to see. “here.” lucifer waits for you to unscrew the cap before extending his hand to take it, but you shake your head ‘no’ and bring it to his lips for him. “your hands are shaking too much.”

luckily, a sick lucifer is much more agreeable than a regular lucifer, and he accepts without complaint. you watch as he slowly comes to his senses, cheeks flushed a scarlet red from both embarrassment and his sudden fever. “i’m sorry, MC. i am not myself.”

you give him a sigh, gazing at him with such stark affection that lucifer thinks he’s hallucinating again. “get some sleep then. i’ll make some food for when you wake up.”

lucifer says nothing, but instead wraps his fingers around your wrist weakly. “don’t leave.” he pauses, and you feel his grip tighten. “please,” he whispers; he begs.

unmoving, your eyes flicker from his hand on your wrist to his face. lucifer lowers his head, unwilling to return your gaze. behind you, the clock ticks rhythmically, counting the seconds that lucifer has been waiting for a response. of course, you resign, turning yourself around to sit on the edge of the couch. you swing your legs up onto the cushions, leaning back onto the arm rest so that you’re angled upwards. once you find yourself comfortable, you pull lucifer towards you, letting his head rest against your shoulder as more of his weight falls onto you. although his temperature still runs high, it’s lower than what it was when you first found him. the best thing now, you decide, is to hold him close.

you can hear the gentle patter of rain against the windows, a reminder of what landed you in this situation in the first place. but now, with lucifer peacefully dozing off in your embrace, you can’t help but think that you might never buy an umbrella at all.

a/n: .... hi guys

reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

[ghostofthemost141]

Essence

Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader, First POV, no use of (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,264

Themes: Fluff, Comfort, Suggestive Themes and talk so !18+!

About: After Simon comes home from a rough mission, you decide to pamper him.

Notes: I feel like Ghost would be vulnerable to his partner after they have been together for a long time because mans has a lot of pent up trauma and emotions he needs to let out. Name for you here is Sage. And I am sorry if this feels rushed, I just have been busy and wanted to get this out. Enjoyy!!

“Si..” 

I almost didn’t see him walking through the front door as I was in the kitchen. His shoulders were flat and his movements were slow and monotone. 

“Sage..” Simon softly said as I placed my hands on his chest. 

“Love, take all this off of you.” I suggest, messing with the clips of his tactical vest. 

“Hm.” Simon mumbled as he let me unclip his vest and pull them off of his chest. 

“I’ll take it.” Simon said. 

I nodded as I handed him the vest and he went and put it in the garage. I just hope he is up for some warm homemade soup that I made. Tomato soup with some grilled cheese. It was a rainy, cold day so soup was a good call. Simon likes my cooking, I just hope he is alright with it. Simon came back in, all of his gear gone from his body. 

“There’s my racoon.” I joke, referring to the black paint that was still around his face. 

“Oh shite.” Simon chuckled. 

“I made some homemade tomato soup and I can make grilled cheese if you want.” I told him as I followed him into the bathroom. 

“That sounds lovely. I’ll take a grilled cheese, if you don’t mind.” 

Simon turned the sink on to carefully wipe the face paint off so as to not stain the white sink we have. I leaned in and kissed his cheek, quickly but passionately. 

“Of course I don’t mind, Si.” I reassure him. 

His doe brown eyes stared into mine, but I could tell he was tired. Very tired, but he was happy to be home. 

“I’ll give you a minute and go make your grilled cheese.” I announce. 

“Thanks, Sage.” Simon thanked me. 

I smiled at him as I turned, left the bathroom and went into the kitchen. Even though I am always happy for Simon to be back home, I always give him a minute or so to be alone so he can wind down and decompress and become Simon Riley again and not Ghost, even though that mask of his looks so damn sexy on him. Both the skull mask and the balaclava skull mask. I smeared some butter on both inside and outside the bread, put a slice of cheddar, muenster, and american cheese into the bread, put it together and put it face down onto the hot pan on the stove. Suddenly I felt a pair of hands behind me, but I didn’t fret. 

“Simon, you scared me.” I half joked, “your alias name is true to its name.” 

Simon chuckled, leaning his face into my neck, placing a kiss on it. Although I love Simon, he was being overly affectionate this time. I wonder if something happened while he was deployed. I felt his hands land on my hips, massaging them. He always knew what spots to get with me. I flipped his grilled cheese, a perfect golden brown color being revealed. 

“Just how I like ‘em.” Simon said, feeling his hands sink lower. 

I pretended to not notice what he was doing, but I was secretly enjoying it. Simon’s hands then went down to my ass, his big hands cupping each cheek. 

“Simon Riley!” I jokingly disciplined him. 

“Wha’, my love?” 

“You’re gonna make me burn your grilled cheese.” 

Simon just chuckled, kissing my neck passionately. 

“I missed ya.” 

“I missed you too, Simon.” 

Simon moved his hands around my waist, brought me close to his chest, and he leaned his head onto my neck, just holding me. Simon's grilled cheese was done and I took it off the pan and onto a plate. Simon remained silent but it was normal once he got the ‘I missed you so much’ hug and kiss out of the way when he first got home. I like to think it's his brain trying to decompress from being out in the field and remind himself that he is home now. Simon and I sat at the dining table, eating in silence. I wanted to converse with him, but I also wanted to give him as much space as he wanted before overwhelming him. I noticed then that Simon had finished his bowl of soup and his entire sandwich. 

“Did you like it?” 

“I did. It was the best bloody fucking thing I had in a long time.” Simon commented, making me chuckle. 

“Do you want some more? I made plenty.” I offered. 

Simon went silent, eyeing the big pot of soup that sat on the warm burner on the stove. He shook his head. 

“Are you sure?” 

Simon nodded again, without speaking. 

“Is everything alright, love?” I ask, reaching for Simon's hand and holding it. 

Simon held back softly and gently as if he was afraid I would crack easily like glass. 

“Yes.” 

Just by his plain response, I could tell he had a rough mission, whatever it was that he did. He tells me some but I don't want to know a whole lot unless he wants me to know. Simon silently got up with his dishes and went and put them on the sink, washing them. 

“Love, go sit down and relax.” I half joked, approaching him. 

Simon didn't say anything. He just kept washing his dish. 

“Simon.” I called him. 

Finally he stopped, turned and looked at me. I was about to demand to talk to him, but his doe eyes stopped me in my tracks. They pierced mine, as if he was trying to non verbally tell me something. His shoulders were down and his body was limp. Relaxed. 

“Let's go freshen up in the bath. Hm?” I suggested. 

Simon did a half smile. 

“Okay.” 

I cleaned up the soup mess quickly and then led Simon to our master bathroom. I held his hand the whole time and I could feel his body relaxed but tense at the same time. I knew asking him about what's wrong would be useless. He will tell me when he wants to. 

“Bath or shower?” 

“You pick, Sage.” 

I wanted to dedicate this to him and him only, even if he thinks he doesn't deserve it. I walked over to the faucets and turned them on, making sure the water was at a good temperature. Once it was at a good hot temperature, I pulled the drain plug up to clog the hole. 

“Oh.” I mumbled as I turned around to see Simon undressing himself. 

“Wha'?” 

“Oh nothing.” I smirked as I walked up to him. 

I placed my hands on his chest, feeling his rough but soft skin. Simon didn't bore a six pack but he was definitely muscular in the arms and upper chest. He was good looking to me no matter what but his chest has to come to be my favorite pillow. He had a few scars on his chest due to his years in the Task Force but I think they make him more attractive and they each tell a story that he has already told me. 

“You're so pretty.” I mumbled, rubbing my hands up and down his chest. 

“I'd like to think that you're prettier than me.” 

“Stop it, Simon. You're beautiful.” 

I planted a small kiss on his shoulder, hearing a soft rumble come from him. I turned back around to find the tub was full so I went and turned the faucets off. I stood there and waited for Simon, who was left in his boxers. 

“You gettin’ in?” 

“You first. I want to pamper you.” 

Simon was a little surprised by my response but obliged. He then pulled his boxers off of his body, and slowly stepped into the bath, wincing in the process. 

“You okay?” I got close to the tub. 

“Y-Yea’. Just bloody fucking sore.” 

“I'm sorry.” 

“Not your fault, love.” Simon said. 

“Where are you sore at?” 

“Me back.” 

I immediately went through the bathroom cabinets and drawers, eventually finding what I wanted. Massage oil. 

“I got you, Si.” I say. 

Simon eyed the massage oil and then back to me. 

“Please.” 

Simon grumbled as he leaned forward, giving his back full access to me. I put some oil onto my hand and rubbed it onto his upper back. 

“Hmhm. Fuck.” Simon grumbled. 

“Is that it?” 

I immediately felt stupid asking that. No, Sage, that can't be where it hurts the most if he curses in pain. 

“Yes. Right ‘here.” 

I don't know how Simon tolerates me with some of the stupid shit I say but he does. And to this day he still loves me. Hearing confirmation from Simon, I started rubbing the oil more onto his back and dug my fingers into his back harshly but gently at the same time. Simon groaned in pain every time I moved my fingers and I felt bad but I know it's needed and he will feel better once I get done. My fingers were absolutely slick with the massage oil as I was pressing and moving my fingers into the middle upper part of his back, close to his spine as that's where most of his pain resided. 

“Oh fuck, love.” 

Did..Did he just? What he said immediately went straight to my stomach, my face burning red and warm. I know he did it out of pain and relief from his back, but my God did he have to say it like that? 

“You okay, Simon?” I ask, trying to forget what he said. 

Simon sighed deeply as he leaned back, his head resting in between my legs. He opened his eyes and stared upright at me. 

“I am now.” 

I giggled, moving little strands of his blonde hair out of his face. 

“Did that help any?”

“Yes. Thank you, Sage.” Simon thanked me. 

I leaned down and planted a kiss on Simon's lips. Suddenly feeling his teeth nibbling on my lips. I pulled back to see Simon with a shit eating grin. 

“Maybe later~” I say with a smirk. 

“You tease..” Simon mumbled, raising his head up and facing forward. 

“Now,” I started as I washed the massage oil off of my hands and reached for his shampoo, “tell me how your operation went.” 

I could hear Simon sigh, but he should know me by this point. I always want to know how his missions went, even if he can't tell me much about them. He remained silent as I squirted some of his shampoo into my hand, rubbed my hands together and began lathering the soap into his hair. 

“It was..a mission ‘lright.” Simon mumbled out as I got down to his scalp. 

“How so?” 

Come on Si. 

“Well, we had to rescue some hostages.” Simon started. 

I squirted some more shampoo into my hands due to Simon's thick ass hair. 

“Oh shit, how did that go?” 

Simon was silent once again as I finished washing his hair. I have always wanted to call him Goldie Locks but I'm afraid he would kill me for that. Still going on without saying anything, I rinsed my hands in the bath water. 

“I need to rinse your hair, Si.” I told him. 

Simon scooted forward as I sank down and silently cursed at myself, being forgetful of the fact that I was still wearing jeans as I sat down into the bath. Oh well, you're lucky you're worth it Simon. Simon leaned all the way back till his face was above the water still. He remained in strong eye contact as I rinsed the soap out of his hair. His eyes were a gorgeous brown, I could get lost in them. 

“Done.” I announced and Simon rose up, his back facing me. 

I sat on my knees and grabbed some of his body soap. 

“The mission went good. All of the hostages were saved and unharmed. But..” 

“Hm?” I say as I started to lather his body in soap. 

I could hear him wince a little bit, but not as bad as he did earlier. 

“There..there was a kid.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Youn’ kid. Couldn’t have been older than five. When Johnny and I were trying to calm down the hostages, the kid kept latching to me. Even though I had a skull mask on, the bloody kid wouldn’t let go ‘f me. Even when he got reunited with his mum, the kid wouldn’t let go of me.” Simon explained as I finished bathing his body. 

I felt my heart race a little bit as Simon told me all of that. We never really discussed having kids. The conversation has certainly came up before though and Simon was iffy about them. But the fact that most normal people are terrified of him, rightfully so, but a young kid latched onto Simon during a scary moment in their life warmed my heart. 

“He knew you were a good and kind soul during that scary moment.” I say, rinsing his body off. 

“Yeah,” Simon chuckled, “cause upon my appearance you’d think I would be a good and kind soul.”

“You are to me.” 

Simon sighed deeply, not out of annoyance but more as he was processing what happened. 

“You’re a good man, Simon.” 

I leaned my head onto his shoulder and wrapped my arms around him. Simon held my hands, just embracing into my touch. I kissed his shoulder, as a gentle reminder that I was here for him and always would be. No matter what happens with him or what becomes of the both of us, I would always be here for him. Simon Riley. Simon. Riley. 

“Thank you, love.” 

END