#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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[bunnyluvx]

spending rainy nights with you.

featuring: vlad dracula ţepeş x gn!reader.

summary: you're reading late at night, and your husband grows impatient waiting for you.

warnings: minors and ageless blogs dni regardless of content.

tags: fluff | one-shot | vampire! reader | established marriage | clingy! vlad | you fight like an old married couple (you are an old married couple)

a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!! finally a new fanfic after 4 months. i'm really proud of this one so i hope you all like it! thank you to everyone who gave me advice, i really needed it. i appreciate you all so much! p.s i made the dividers featured, so please do not use them.

date started: 5:02PM, december 31st, 2024. date finished: 5:56PM, january 8th, 2025.

ib: @creativepromptsforwriting ♡ | wc: 2.9k | ao3

Darkness cradles the Earth in a loving embrace while the clouds cry. The moon cannot give its glow for beings below, and the stars are unable to watch the wonders of the night unfold for long without the clouds covering their view. It has been this way all evening, rain pouring down anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour, stopping for around the same amount of time before starting again. The plants and animals of the forest are grateful for the sky's nourishment, and the clouds feel so encouraged by nature's gratitude that there are no signs of this pattern letting up anytime soon.

You appreciate the weather, too, for it is perfect for reading. At the moment, you find yourself sat in one of many libraries in the castle. The rocking chair that you find yourself in is rather comfortable, and the book in your hands pulls you further into its story with every word you follow. In your most comfortable nightwear with a blanket on your lap and a cardigan around your shoulders, not many other things come to mind when you try to think of a better way to spend your evening.

"I'll be to bed soon, dear. I'm almost finished with this chapter." Your voice breaks the comfortable silence and echoes across the wooden shelves enveloping you in your little corner to reach the ears of the rather large man that is making a very poor attempt to hide.

Standing not far from you, partially behind a bookcase, is your husband, Vlad Țepeș. You've felt his presence for the past few minutes, deciding that you would wait for him to speak first, but as quiet lingered in the air, you quickly realized that he wasn't going to announce himself. Your history with Vlad goes far beyond your marriage, for the two of you were some of the first vampires to ever walk the Earth. You were good friends for a very long time, and to save the novel-worthy story, you found each other after many years of being separated and romance fiercely set ablaze. No divine being could send you someone that's close in comparison to him, and he could say the same about you.

There are a few more moments of silence before you feel wind hastily rushing against the back of your neck, followed by large, strong arms tightly wrapping around your shoulders and cold skin resting right where the air had just wafted past you. Many would find it hard to believe that Count Dracula is a clingy lover, but this behavior is of no surprise to you. For as long as the two of you have been together, Vlad has always craved closeness. When he is without you for a certain period of time, he searches the castle to take his rightful place by your side once more. He didn't have to look for long tonight, for he knew exactly where you were.

You have been obsessed with this book that you found in the library, and while he is glad that you are enjoying it, it is taking your attention away from him. This is not something that pleases Vlad very deeply, so he is planning on making some changes tonight. "You've been in here for hours. Come to bed, now." His deep voice comes with a rumble from his chest, tone composed of a gentleness reserved for you alone.

His plea does not go unheard, for you know that all he wants is for you to snuggle up with him and doze into night's comfortable slumber together. Fondness takes hold of your heart as a small, tender smile curls onto your lips. It's difficult to refuse him such an innocent ask, but it is just as difficult to pull yourself away from the narrative in your hands, so you assure your beloved, "There isn't much left. You'll be alright a few minutes more."

This earns a disappointed groan from Vlad, burying his face further into your neck. "How much more is there?"

You tilt your head and take each remaining page between your fingers until you find the next chapter, and when you find your answer, you tell him, "Three pages."

Another groan grates from Vlad's throat, prolonged from the previous one as he nestles impossibly further into your skin with his large frame leaning against the back of the wooden chair. "Remind me why we sleep at night." Your darling requests, peaking up at your face.

"Hey, you don't have to sleep at night if you don't want to. It was your idea to change your sleep schedule so that we could match," You grant Vlad his request and recall the commitment that he made to sleeping throughout the night so that the two of you would be able to be together when the sun comes up.

You have preferred day to night for as long as you could remember. You have no reason for favoring daytime other than feeling that the Earth is so much more lively and bright. The plants are so vibrant beneath the sunlight, and there are so many things that you want to experience that you wouldn't be able to otherwise. Vlad always knew that you enjoyed day more than night, therefore adjusting your sleeping schedule accordingly; As a result, Vlad told you that he was going to start sleeping through the night too. At first, you were a bit worried about such a major change to his routine, but he insisted that he wanted to see the world through your eyes. This has been the arrangement ever since, and you cannot help but feel so smitten by the idea that he is willing to introduce such adjustments to his agenda in order to be with you.

With this transition in his life, Vlad knew that he was going to be groggy. While he has a substantial amount of energy compared to most vampires, this does not exempt him from needing the same amount of sleep. Have no doubt when he swears that there is nothing that he would change about dedicating himself to your lifestyle. You were right when you said that it was his choice, but unfortunately, it does not cure the fatigue that he often finds himself with when he stirs from his night's rest.

In attempt to adjust to the pattern he promised you, he likes going to bed early. Vlad tries to be tucked in anywhere from seven to nine P.M, and typically, you are by his side. You go to bed around the same time that he does, if not a little later, so when he was preparing himself for bed without you, he got worried. He figured that you would come to bed soon, so he laid down in attempt to fall asleep. As the hours ticked by with still no sign of you, he became restless, eventually making the decision to go look for you.

A defeated huff leaves Vlad's lips as he rests his forehead against the back of your neck again. One of many reasons why he fell in love with you was because of your smart mouth, and you pick the most bedeviling times to use it. "I know that," He mumbles lowly, peaking back up at you before resting his chin on your shoulder and closing his eyes.

"You know that I can't sleep without you. Please, come to bed." The count pleads again, sweeter this time.

You almost give in to his honeyed words, their innocent warmth daring to bewitch you. Nevertheless, you keep your composure while your eyes remain on the page before you, as they have throughout the entire conversation, "You will be just fine, dear. Only a few minutes longer."

Vlad has learned much about patience in his life, especially when he found you again. All good things come to those who wait is something that the dark-haired vampire has commonly watched play out, so normally, this wouldn't be the end of the world for him. He would do naught more than pout and refuse to detach himself from you until you came to bed. Tonight, however, Vlad will not be indulging in your distractions. Quick to stand, sending a blast of wind against your back once more, the count steps to your side before lifting you up into his arms. You yelp at the unexpected change of location and almost drop your book in the process, barely being able to catch it by its spine before holding it closed to your chest and leaning against your husband. "Vlad!!" You exclaim, laughter tickling its way from your lungs moments after.

"No. I have had enough. You are coming to bed with me." The vampire declares as he begins to make his way towards the library's exit.

"Vlad, put me down!!" You demand, only moderately annoyed with him as you flail in his grasp in attempt to escape, "Right now!!"

"Nope. So sorry, my dear, but your book is going to have to wait." Vlad proclaims, lips tilting upwards in a cheeky grin as his head turns to the side so that radiant red eyes can meet yours, "Your husband requires your attendance to the nightly snuggle session. You're late."

Any attempts you're making to escape the security of this man's arms are greatly failing you, so you decide to admit defeat now rather than later. His strength serves well, and while you are grateful for it most days, this is a good example of the cons of being married to one of Earth's most powerful vampires. He can, and will, wrangle you around whenever he pleases. Your bottom lip pokes out from its place as you lean against the man's chest, determined to uphold your front of unwavering stubbornness.

Amused by your dramatics, Vlad rolls his eyes playfully and allows them to close while a chuckle vibrates up his chest and past his lips. He opens them again to admire your sullen expression, musing, "Oh, come now. I can't be that bad of a cuddler since you're pitching a fit."

Your pout is quick to dispel from your face, a long sigh expelling from your lungs just afterwards. You avoid eye contact as you agree with him, "No, you're not."

Another chuckle escapes the mouth of your lover, a sound that you are secretly glad to hear that reassures you that he isn't taking you seriously. He draws you closer to his chest as he softly murmurs against your forehead before placing a kiss to it, "Don't worry, you can read more tomorrow."

You sulk and avoid eye contact for a bit before dropping the act. It wasn't much longer before you arrived into your shared bedroom, the door coming open to reveal a sight that has grown comforting to you over the years. The room is decorated primarily in red and black, as you both adore the colors, but there are a few distinct shades around too which sets apart your individual styles. Assorted trinkets rest across dressers and shelves from the many travels that you two have taken over the years, gifts and ornaments that you've made for each other through a plethora of shared anniversaries that always bring a smile to your face every time you pay mind to them.

Variously styled mirrors, decor, and paintings hang on the walls. There is no real purpose for the mirrors other than to enhance the elegance of the room, as they are too high for both you and Vlad to see anything from. The paintings, however, hold much importance to both of you. Each illustration that lays across your walls tells a story from one of your memorable moments together. Vlad personally hired the best artist he could find to perfectly capture your most treasured experiences, and whenever you are having a bad day, all you have to do is look up to brighten your spirits.

Your husband walks over to his side of the bed and holds you above the center before dropping you onto the soft surface, causing you to puff out an exhale before your laughter sings into the air. You lay yourself across the bed and remain still while Vlad adjusts the canopy draped over the wooden post by his pillow before he launches at you. With no time to move away, he plops over your stomach, the impact of his weight causing you to wheeze. You look down at him with an astonished grin on your lips as he lays in momentary silence before lifting himself off of you to settle onto you comfortably. You sit up and adjust all of the pillows behind you before leaning back against them, prying your book open again before it is promptly snatched out of your hands and slammed onto Vlad's nightstand. You laugh and try to reach for it, imploring for its return, but that is quickly shut-down by the vampire hovering above you, "No. Sincerest apologies. You'll get it back tomorrow."

Slowly, he stations himself on top of you with his head against your abdomen just under your chest. He is mindful of your body language to ensure your comfort, and when he descends his full weight with no awkward shifting or complaints from you after a few minutes, he concludes your contentment with the position and nestles his head against you with closed eyes. Your arms lift as he gets himself cozy, and once he relaxes, you wrap your arms around his shoulders while your fingers begin to comb through his hair. A smile graces the vampire's lips as your touch serves to soothe all worries away from his mind.

You cannot stop the smile that grows onto your own face as you watch his lips curl up. No soul, alive or dead, can say that they have experienced Vlad Țepeș' joy the way that you do, and for this, you are grateful. Vlad has spent so much of his life keeping up a cold, merciless profile for all vampires that dare to step to him, but charades with you are unnecessary. All of the walls that he spent centuries building are torn to shreds in your presence, and no matter his methods, they could never withstand your blinding iridescence. There is comfort in your arms that he has never found in another, and this tranquility that he has the luxury of being the only person to experience is something that he holds close to his heart. This is not something that you do knowingly, for it is who you are. You are a constant source of peace that quells the ever-roaring fire in his soul to a quiet crackle. You are what inspires him to be curious about the world, you keep his thirst for knowledge abundant with your differing perspectives, and he firmly believes that your ideas could change the world.

It's truly a shame that your eyes cannot convey the amount of love that you hold for this man, but they are doing their best. Your gaze displays your overwhelming adoration for him, and he surely feels how loved he is. When you look at him, Vlad knows that he is admired in every way he never dreamed of. Your eyes do not have to meet for him to know that you look at him like he is the greatest thing in the world, and that is all you could ever wish for. You finally decide to break the silence after watching him rest for a bit, teasing him, "Is this going to be your spot for the night?"

Any thoughts that Vlad was having before you embraced him have completely vanished. Now, it's just you, him, and your warm bed. All he can muster out is a low, "Mhm."

You giggle as you recognize his sleepiness and lift your legs slightly, asking, "Then can we at least get under the covers so that we don't freeze to death?"

A lazy, amused smirk curls onto Vlad's face at your suggestion, his nostrils flaring in a huff. "I'm not even sure that we can freeze," He admits.

You chuckle and move your hands from his hair onto his back to pat it. "Well, I don't want to risk finding out. So come on."

An agitated groans leaves your comfy husband before he begrudgingly eases himself off of you so that you could get under the covers. The two of you adjust the pillows to their normal spaces and you shake off your cardigan to toss it aside before you slip your legs beneath the sheets. A corner of the sheets lay open, and you lift them up to welcome him inside. Vlad's lips form a gentle smile, and his eyes soften affectionately at the sight before he climbs into the covers and rests himself back on top of you. Your fingers return to threading through his hair, a blissful sigh respiring from his lungs as he resumes a comfortable position. You look down at the top of his head with the same benevolent expression that you wear every time that you look at him, and your voice comes out soft when you say, "Goodnight, my dearest. I love you."

The words that you tell him every night are words that he could never tire of hearing. When you say it, he knows that you mean it, and it fills him with ease to know that when you wake up in the morning, he will get to hear you say it again. "Goodnight, my darling. I love you too." Vlad returns the sentiment, falling into an inescapable slumber with you not far behind him.

@BUNNYLUVX ,, all rights reserved. do not copy/plagiarize any of my works or submit it into ai. any and all support is appreciated! <3

[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!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

RANDOM BUT LOOK AT MY DOOR

ITS NEUVIEEEEEE (send help)

~🐈‍⬛

[sulkenswan]

SUCKER — PROLOGUE, something new

gorgeous fanart by @nramv , edited by me

vampire!dealer!ellie x reader

↫ masterlist next ↬

info: rain appears to be the centre of your new life, as well as your newest enemy. you try to adapt to the cold town of jackson while simultaneously remeeting what seems to be every person in town, bracing yourself for the first day of school. MOODBOARD + PLAYLIST

cw: reader smokes and she's 17 (soon to be 18) so underage, set in the 2000's!

wc: 3.8k

note: oh goody im excited, as you can tell its based on twilight. thank you to my friend E for proofreading!

as soon as you get into your dad’s car, the first thing it starts to do is rain. pour rain. the sunny weather suddenly vanishing before your eyes, and all hope you had of this place being slightly like your old home disappears in an instant. jacksonville. a small town in the state of wyoming, always cloudy, always raining. population: 3,120 people. you haven’t visited since you were 13. no matter how much the gloominess would obviously appeal to you, your mother kept you close, leaving your father to his own as the police chief. trees fly beside you as you stare outside, arm propped up on the side of his work car, paying close attention to the droplets falling on the glass window, your new life.

you both don't speak. you had already done the pleasantries, nice to see you, you’ve grown up so much, blah blah blah. it’s clear he has more to say, but you really don’t. you’re only here to make your mom happy, without you. over the years having made the accidental habit of raising your mother instead of your mother raising you, so in a way you’re thankful for the change of scenery, a good thing about your dad is that he doesn’t hover over you. you remember the days with your dad when you were younger, how gentle he was with you and how much he cared, and although he’s trying his hardest not to show it, you can see how he holds just as much love for you as he did then, regardless of the 12 years that have passed. the rain pats gently all around you, and you close your eyes to soak it in. something new is what you’ve been needing. what you’ve been craving. you can't fully blame your mother for wanting to soak in the feeling of her new marriage and have complete freedom. she’s not the only reason you moved, anyways. things weren’t working out for you back there. you had no purpose.

the car jolts to a stop, pulling you out of your train of thought and forcing you to face your new home. it’s not raining anymore, and the house is the same as you remember it. two stories, painted white with a dusty brown roof, detailing wherever it can go. your dad is already out of the car, opening the boot and hauling out your luggage. sighing, you brace yourself and roll your sleeves as far up your palms as they can go, then opening the old car door. cool air hitting you instantly, the slippery pavement almost making you collapse on yourself.

“you good, bear?”

bear. oh god how you’ve missed your dad. you can't believe you almost forgot that nickname.

letting out a shaky exhale, you answer “yeah, sorry just slipped a little.”

he’s beside you in an instant, your luggage taking up both of his hands, and shoulders. you didn't bring much, but you had more on the way.

“oh here let me help you-”

“no, no, i'm fine. i’m not that old yet,” he jokes, turning towards you for a minute and offering a soft smile in which you return “well, welcome to your new home.” he makes the first move to go inside, and you quickly reach for your purse still sitting in the passenger seat of his car; grabbing it quickly before closing the door and following after him. trying your absolute hardest to not fall and die on the driveway.

you both walk in silence, the house smelling as it always has. woody, rainy, and fresh. the tiles look as if they have been freshly polished, and the downstairs feels much less roomy than you remember. he guides you upstairs into the same room you remember spending countless nights in as a child, not giving you much time to process the downstairs. you make a mental note to explore more later. enetering, he drops your luggage to the side while you continue analysing it. it's pretty open, direct space in front of you and a small hallway-like area off to the side, your closest on the wall opposite there. the bed resting in front of you against the wall is new, he changed the bedsheets, the pink florals have been replaced with a dusty purple floral design. there are matching pillowcases as well as a swan pillow perfectly placed in front of it, a darker shade of purple belonging to the sheets peeking out from underneath the duvet.

the rest of the room has also seemingly been revamped. there are fairy lights all around the ceiling, adding some nice warmth to the room. the shelves that rest on your wall in front of your bed next to the window have been emptied, and the window seat right beside, almost like an extension of your bed, has the same purple theme going, a fluffy throw blanket messily thrown in place, alongside some simple decorative pillows; lace curtains adding some simplicity. you already know you’ll be spending most of your time there.

next is the desk, right in front of your bed, just before the room extends. a lace tablecloth matching the curtains and acting as a shield to the wood. there’s what seems to be a fairly recent laptop model and some books adorning it, a mirror hanging right above it, alongside some storage underneath it. the chair seems comfy, just a simple wooden one, matching the desk. you assume he left the room mostly empty to incorporate as much of your old life as possible, but part of you wishes you didn't have to carry anything here. that you could leave no trail of your past here, but you appreciate the thought he’s given you nonetheless, and how he’s seemingly overly aware you’re no longer a child. but that you've grown, and are mature enough to take care of yourself and how you wish to present it.

the last thing you investigate is the extension, there's a full length mirror at the end, but for the most part the extra room is mostly empty. there’s a bulletin board beside the mirror, and an extra wooden dresser to the side. just for safety, even though your clothes will probably take up less than half of the closet.

“wow… you really went all out.” you compliment, although it seems to raise slight alarm in him.

“sorry if it’s too much, i just wanted to let you take control. but also not have your old childish things…” he drones on for a little, but you’re too busy admiring your room. you feel better about the move already, aware that your dad will give you the space you need, while also actively caring for you and ensuring you’re safe. pros of living with the chief of police: you’re pretty much guaranteed safety. cons: you can’t be as open to him about bad habits as you would like.

you interrupt him before he spirals more, “it’s perfect, dad. purple’s cool. thank you.” you give a tender smile, throwing your purse onto your bed while starting to visually plan what you could add. the bedside table in front of you looks like it could use some decoration, and you’re already planning on going out into town to collect some small bits and pieces you might be able to use.

you flop down on your bed, just avoiding your purse, front facing the ceiling. the weight of the day slowly being lifted off of you while the exhaustion takes over.

“well, uh, i guess i’ll leave you to it. i’m glad you like it.” your dad stands in the center of the room, hands on his hips as his bulky uniform makes his shadow appear unusually large. “the anderson’s will be here soon. any minute now, knowing them.”

“the andersons?” the name sounds so familiar, yet you’re finding it difficult to put a name to the face. sitting up to look at your dad on your elbows, legs hanging off the surprisingly comfortable bed.

“er yeah. abby and owen. they’re bringing you a present. well, a gift from me,” he clicks his tongue, contemplating what to say next, scared that he’ll spoil the surprise “you know what, you’ll see.” and he leaves it at that, going to exit your room as you lay back down on your bed, trying your hardest to remember who the fuck abby and owen are. but just like clockwork, the doorbell rings, and hearty chuckles can be heard from just below your window.

you sigh, and your dad chuckles to himself. his back facing you as he makes his way out of your room, footsteps booming down the stairs. you sit there for a moment, still racking your brain for who exactly the anderson’s are. as far as you’re concerned, they haven’t been mentioned until now. deciding the better way to solve this mystery is to actually see and talk to them, you groan before begrudgingly getting out of bed. jeans rustling against the sheets as your black chucks follow after your dad down to the front door, just below your bedroom, and right in front of your window. by the time you make it down, he’s only just opening the door to greet them. the warmth leaves your body as the cold air blows in, and although you’re wearing layers, it does little to help.

rushing to the door and practically stumbling over your feet while doing so, you come face to face with two people who’s memories instantly rush to mind. those anderson’s.

“nice to see you finally join us,” owen jokes, making eye contact with you, abandoning whatever conversation he had been having with your dad moments before. abigail stands to his side, and she looks nothing like you remember. she looks hot. you check her out, shamelessly at that. you know she can see you, and you notice her lips curve up into a slight smirk.

you laugh at owen, mustering up the last of your energy to figure out what to say next, “you know me. it's nice to see you guys, it's been too long.” you leave the doorstep, moving outside to the pavement, once again overly aware of how you’re moving, really trying to not slip and embarrass yourself. reaching to hug owen who reciprocates instantly, he smells like citrus somehow. you let go of the hug first, giving a smile and turning your attention to abby, a stupid smirk still plastered on her face. she's wearing a tight fitting white long sleeve and cargo pants. how she is warm is something you don't think you’ll be able to solve. she opens her arms for a hug and you reach for her, being engulfed instantly. she smells like oil, and amber. an oddly comforting mix.

“nice to see you,” she whispers.

you stay lost in the moment for only a second longer before responding, “you too.”

it's not a whisper, but faintly spoken, barely heard. and you force yourself to be free from her grasp. you haven’t seen her in years, and you’re not sure why you expected her to still look like how she did when you were practically babies.

“so, how have things been?”

owen and your dad are lost in their own conversation, joking around with each other and playing around the driveway. so you take it upon yourself to continue talking to abby.

“eh, same as always. i started fixing up cars and stuff, working out as you seemingly have already noticed.”

your cheeks flush red, no need for her to call you out. “don’t flatter yourself, abigail. it’s been awhile, i’m just surprised to see you is all.” you defend, crossing your arms over your chest. she laughs, throwing her hands up in defence. “how about you?”

you don't even hesitate to answer, “it's just weird being back here. i haven't visited for the summer since the last time i saw you when we were what? 12?”

she thinks for a moment, most likely doing the maths in her head. “13, actually. how weird is that?”

“so weird,” you laugh, and she joins in alongside you. as it dies down, she desperately makes an attempt to keep talking to you “what school you going to?”

“jackson, unfortunately. oh god, please tell me you are as well. it would be so good to already have a friend there!” you plead.

she sighs and shakes her head, putting a hand on her hip. “sorry princess, i'm down on the firefly side. and before you get angry, i drove an hour out here, so tread lightly.” you frown at her, eyebrows furrowing. how the hell were you gonna make it through your first day now? you decide not to dwell on it too long, you would cope with that tomorrow when the issue presented itself.

analyzing your surroundings, you notice a truck sitting right behind abby. it was pretty old, but you honestly found it pretty. a navy blue, rusty chevy truck. abby follows your eyes, smiling.

“hey uh, i think the princess has spotted something important.”

she gains the attention of both owen and your dad.

“oh my goodness of course how could i forget,” your dad scolds himself as owen snickers off to the side, “uh, i know it’s not exactly much, bear, but this is my house warming gift to you. i've already paid for it from this fool,” he goes to play punch owen who dodges is attack and takes a surf like pose, putting your hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh while your dad grumbles and eyes him off to the side, “and i wanted you to have your own way to get to school and wherever else you wanna go, really. so…”

your smile widens significantly, tucking your hands into your back pockets. “are you kidding? thank you so much dad. i love it. it’s perfect”

“and credit to me for fixing it all up, thank you very much,” abby chimes in, and you giggle at her bluntness.

“i cannot thank you guys enough,” you beam, looking around at the people before you. going up to the driver's seat and opening the door, abby going around the other side to hop in the passenger side.

“so i installed a whole new engine, and i had to adjust the clutch so when you pull it up you have to push it down slightly first. if there are any issues, let me know and i’ll try to fix ‘er up.” she explains, pointing to all the different features and explaining them as best she can. you cant stop smiling, eyes on the wheel in front of you, feeling around.

“this is amazing. you’re so talented, thank you.”

“it’s just something to get you started, but you must be tired,” the blonde in front concludes, leaving the car causing you to follow out after her, reading you as perfectly as she did six years ago.

owen seems to have overheard as his face lights up in recognition, “oh of course! you've had a full day of travelling and you have to get up pretty early tomorrow. we’ll leave you to it, it was nice to see you. make sure to get lots of rest tonight.” he wraps up, freeing you from social interaction.

abby tosses the keys, you catching them effortlessly.

“of course, and i’ll come visit you guys as soon as possible. get home safe!” you add on.

your dad says his own goodbyes as the two pile into owens car, abby in the drivers seat, most likely practicing her driving. they wave you goodbye as they leave, and you really do plan on seeing them as soon as you can.

you hadn’t even noticed the night settling over you as you and your dad make your way back into the house.

“you want some dinner, bear? i made some pasta before.”

as terrible as you feel turning down his offer, the only thing you really feel like doing is freshening up and going to bed., “sorry dad, i’m pretty dead. i’ll snag some to have for breakfast tho!” you promise, making your way up the stairs while he lingers down in the living room, going to turn on the tv.

having a quick shower and changing into your pajamas (that only consisted of a tank top and underwear), you called down a quick goodnight to your dad and shut your door, sighing. you had barely done anything today, yet felt more tired than you had in months.

but you had a routine, and that routine got you to where you were now. jumper thrown on while you crawled over your bed to your windowsill seat, lighter and cigarette in hand. although your room is warm thanks to a heater, you’re taking safety measures in advance and preparing yourself for the cold air that will breeze through. you open the curtains, then the blinds, and finally the window. you sit back comfortably, back laid against the wall beside the window while your legs are stretched across, you lean into the open window and flick your lighter alive, it being the only light source other than the small glow of street lights and the warm fairy lights around you. holding the cigarette to your lips, you light it gently, the flame catching instantly.

you inhale the smoke, sighing in relief at the alleviation it was already starting to grant. placing the lighter back into your bag, you remove the cigarette from your lips for a moment, exhaling the smoke and admiring the woods that lay directly opposite to you, before your truck catches your eye again. no matter how old it is, you’re just glad you have something to get you from place to place. you didn't have that back in seattle. taking another puff, you sit there and soak in the first night. grabbing your phone to reply to your moms messages that had been coming in non stop since before your plane even took off. answering all of them in a haste. yes i landed safely. yes, dad is nice. i got a car. my school is sorted, i already told you a month ago i start the day after i arrive. i'm good. how are things with him? goodnight.

you sit there for the next 20 minutes or so, playing snake on your razr phone. you occasionally dust the ash off out the window and make a mental note to buy an ashtray, something you had somehow forgotten to bring along with you, before calling it a night. the clock reading 10 pm, your outfit for your first day already resting on your desk chair. shoulder bag right beside it, you were prepared enough. cigarette stashed in the side pocket, just in case. but you had to be careful with your use, you only had a pack left and you weren’t sure where you would be able to buy more, if you would be able to at all.

falling into a deep slumber, you’re awake and preparing for school before you know it. you haven't had the opportunity to unpack yet, so you’re frantically running around your room trying to find the pair to your earring, and trying to figure out how your concealer has suddenly gone missing, and you really thought you had prepared enough the night before.

grunting in frustration you decide to just leave as is, transferring your shitty spare concealer you held in your purse to your bag as well as your small jewelry box, you would deal with it when you got there. your outfit and hair were simple, opting for a v neck long sleeve layered with a blouse and skinny jeans, and an extra jacket looped around your arm with spare fuzzy gloves in your bag.

you can't stop for breakfast, calling out to your dad a thank you! in which he just looks up from his newspaper in shock, before shaking his head and looking back down, unbothered at your antics. you make a beeline for your truck, phone and keys in hand, then you slip.

too focused on getting to the car, you forget that jackson's pavement actually ices over. causing you to land flat on your ass. you whine instinctively, sitting up and rubbing your butt, feeling as it's now wet and you have no time to change. exactly what you needed. you don't let it stop you any longer as you rancorously unlock and enter your vehicle, tossing your backpack in the passenger seat beside you. do you have any idea where you’re going? no. does it stop you from pulling out of the driveway and hoping for the best anyways? no. you’re just hoping you’ll spot another teen driving to jackson highschool soon enough and be able to follow them.

to your luck, you actually do make it to school relatively on time, thanks to that random kid that was probably fearing for their life due to your following. you take the spare minute you have to sit in your truck and mentally prepare yourself. you got a decent parking spot and rush to finish your makeup, taking the concealer out of your bag, methodically applying it with the trucks rear view mirror, not bothering to return it to your bag when it's done, placing it on the passenger seat instead and grabbing your jewelry box, selecting a few rings and bracelets and finally finding your other earring, applying all of them on, putting the box back next to your concealer. untucking the necklace you always wore out from your undershirt. and after deciding you look presentable, you do the hardest part, leaving your truck, thankfully not slipping this time.

everyone’s eyes are on you immediately, people whispering to each other. your arrival somehow already being anticipated. you keep your head down, trying your best to not focus on all the eyes following your every move, navigating through the crowd and up the stairs to the entry, before somebody enthusiastically rushes up beside you.

“hi! i’m cat, you must be the new girl! i’ve been assigned to show you around. whatever you need, i'm here! a guide, a date, a pen, anything.”

“hey, it’s nice to meet you.”

you cautiously introduce yourself as enthusiastically as you can, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. you have no idea where you’re going, and cat can most likely tell from your facial expression.

“here,” she titters, “i’ll bring you to the office. my friends, well, your friends too now if you wanna sit with us, are just down the hall. we’ll meet up with them after!”

cats' confidence and welcoming comforts you beyond words, and the day doesn't feel so bleak anymore. hopefully, it’ll stay like that, even as people continue to watch you.

next.

[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

—————————————————

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.

[pokesturns]

❛❛    ──── ㅤstain ㅤㅤ╂⠀⠀⠀cult leader!matt

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ☺︎︎ㅤ ㅤwarnings:  in this second chapter, you'll find suicide content, religious control, psychological manipulation, mild sexual tension & mild language... proceed with caution.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀⠀⠀⠀▃▃⠀⠀⠀ summary: in ashwick’s church, runa mourns alice’s suicide. at the rainy burial, matt’s family disrupts with bold red attire. matt taunts runa, his umbrella shielding her, sparking fear and forbidden curiosity.

chapter two: the weight of rain

the church of the silent covenant is a mausoleum of grief, its pews packed with ashwick’s faithful, their black attire a uniform of sorrow. october’s chill seeps through the stained-glass windows, casting fractured light on the white coffin at the altar, gleaming like bone.

alice, barely twenty, lies within, her life snuffed out by two bottles of tranquilizers in her bedroom.

the town is a wound, raw and disbelieving—suicide is a sin unspoken here, a taboo that chokes the air. the church hums with stifled sobs, the weight of the covenant’s judgment heavier than the coffin itself.

pastor ellis stands at the pulpit, his voice a low drone, weaving piety and pity. “tragedy has struck our precious community,” he intones, hands clasped like a mourner’s. “alice was a radiant soul, a daughter of grace, her future bright before her. we pray the most high receives her, forgives her, and cradles her in his eternal love.” his words are rote, a script for a town that doesn’t know how to grieve a sin so final.

alice’s parents, crumpled in the front pew, clutch each other, their faces hollow. the suicide note, whispered about but never shared, is a ghost in the room, its words locked away to spare their shame.

runa sits near the back, her hands twisting in her lap, her navy dress brushing her knees—modest, unadorned, as clara demands for a funeral. her curls are bound in a tight ponytail, no makeup, no nail polish, nothing to draw the covenant’s eye.

she didn’t know alice well, but the loss aches. they were close in age, thrown together at church youth events and high school halls, alice always the model of obedience, her smile a quiet gift to everyone. as leader of the daughters of grace, the covenant’s group for young women over eighteen, alice was a beacon—chaste, devout, untouchable. now she’s gone, and runa’s heart whispers a prayer: rest in peace, alice. may god hold you.

she fidgets, the pastor’s voice fading to a hum, her eyes drifting to the congregation.

across the aisle, the pastor’s family sits—ellis, his wife, and their son, caleb, seventeen, with soft brown eyes and a face that makes runa’s pulse skip. she’s prayed for him in secret, begged their god to forgive her fleeting, sinful thoughts. he catches her gaze, his lips curving in a shy smile. runa returns it, her cheeks warming, then looks down, her fingers knotting tighter.

the service ends, and the crowd spills into the cemetery, a procession of black under a sky bruised with clouds. autumn’s bite gnaws at runa’s skin, the last warmth of summer gone, the air thick with the promise of rain. she stands beside clara, their shoulders brushing, watching alice’s parents weep as the white coffin hovers above the open grave, ready to descend. the crowd encircles it, a ring of mourning and judgment, their breaths misting in the cold.

runa’s gaze shifts to pastor ellis’s family, caleb’s eyes still lingering on her, sweet and safe. but then, a hush falls, sharp as a blade, and every head turns. runa feels it before she sees it—a ripple of wrongness behind her. she and clara turn, and there they are.

matt’s family.

mila glides forward, a vision in a knee-length red dress, sleeveless, her bare shoulders defiant against the covenant’s somber code. her blonde hair falls in loose waves, her red lipstick a slash of fire, her high heels clicking with precision. she carries an enormous bouquet of red roses, her smile serene, almost amused, as if she thrives on the stares. valter, her “husband” to ashwick’s eyes, walks beside her, his dark suit crisp, his red tie a deliberate echo of mila’s dress, his hair slicked back with meticulous care. they’re a painting, too vivid, too perfect for this gray town.

behind them, the children: maia, her short black hair sleek, wears a red dress that mirrors her mother’s, her fire-red lipstick sharpening her sculpted face. ray, holding her hand, matches valter’s suit and tie, his pale eyes scanning the crowd like a hunter’s.

and then matt.

runa’s breath catches. he’s a storm in human form, his suit identical to ray’s but worn with rebellion—top buttons undone, tie loose, hair a dark, tousled mess. in the daylight, his eyes are less blue, more gray, like a sky before a tempest. he moves with a predator’s grace, and runa can’t look away, her heart thudding against her ribs. he’s not like anyone in ashwick—not like caleb, not like anyone.

mila passes runa and clara, her smile warm but edged. “good afternoon,” she murmurs, her voice a caress. clara nods stiffly, her lips a thin line.

runa’s eyes flick to matt, and his meet hers, that slight, crooked smile curling his lips again, slow and knowing. her stomach twists. why does he smile like that? what’s so damn funny?

mila whispers to alice’s parents, her words lost in the wind, and lays the roses on the coffin as it begins its descent. alice’s mother glares, her eyes spitting venom at mila’s red dress, her bare skin. the crowd erupts in murmurs, a chorus of disapproval:

how dare they.

they didn’t even know her.

why are they here?

those women have no shame, showing that much skin.

heads shake, lips purse, but matt’s family stands unfazed, moving to runa and clara’s side. ray takes his place beside runa, his stillness unnerving, his eyes fixed forward.

runa steals glances at him, at maia, at mila—each a piece of a flawless, foreign puzzle. they’re like a portrait from another time, their symmetry and beauty carved in marble, untouched by ashwick’s dust. they don’t belong here, runa thinks, her chest tight. she knows the town will shun them after today, brand them a plague. she tries not to stare, to be the good girl clara raised.

clara’s phone buzzes, and she gestures, mouthing, “i’ll be back.” she steps away, likely to answer thomas, leaving runa alone. runa risks another glance at ray, but he’s a statue, unmoving.

then she feels it—a shift, a shadow at her back. matt moves silently, slipping behind his family, positioning himself between ray and runa. his presence is a weight, a heat she can’t ignore. she stops looking at ray, her breath shallow.

pastor ellis resumes, his voice soaring with platitudes, urging their god to forgive alice’s sin.

matt clicks his tongue, a soft, mocking sound. runa’s hands clench at her sides. is he laughing at our leader? at our faith? is that why they’re here—to mock us?

she glances over her shoulder, and there’s that crooked smile, aimed at her like a weapon. he steps closer, so close she can smell the faint cedar of his cologne, feel the warmth of his breath. her heart hammers, but the crowd is focused on ellis, oblivious.

“runa,” matt whispers, his voice deep, curling into her ear like smoke, his faint accent sharpening the words.

she jumps, a tiny flinch, and ignores him, staring at the coffin, willing him to stop.

“you’re a bird in a cage,” he murmurs, so low only she can hear, his breath grazing her neck. “not bars, not metal—just doctrines and flimsy beliefs chaining you.”

her pulse races. what is he talking about? who does he think he is? she doesn’t know him, doesn’t owe him her attention.

“i wonder,” he continues, amusement threading his voice, “should i free you… or destroy you?”

a shiver rakes her spine, cold and sharp. destroy me? is he threatening me? she’s about to turn, to snap at him, when he speaks again.

“eyes forward, runa. don’t be rude.”

the sarcasm in his tone burns, and the absurdity of it—his audacity, his closeness—dazes her. she’s not used to this, to people who speak without permission, who prod at her like she’s prey. she needs clara back. he’s only doing this because she’s alone.

ellis’s voice fades, the burial complete, and then the sky cracks open. rain falls, heavy and sudden, scattering the crowd. some open umbrellas, others flee, the patter drowning out the murmurs. runa curses inwardly—clara has their umbrella. she braces for the wet, but it doesn’t come. a shadow looms over her, and she looks up.

matt holds a massive black umbrella, shielding her, his expression smug, arrogant. the rain drums above, but his gray eyes are steady, locked on hers. she blinks, caught off guard, his earlier words still stinging.

“what was that?” she demands, her voice low, trembling with anger. “what you said back there?”

he tilts his head, feigning innocence. “what?”

she glares, but he’s a wall, unreadable. “i need to go,” she says, stepping forward, but he moves, blocking her path, the umbrella still covering her.

“polite thing to do, keeping you dry,” he says, his tone mockingly courteous. “let me walk you to the church.” he gestures toward the stone building across the cemetery, its steeple a blur in the downpour.

the rain is a torrent now, splashing mud on her shoes, her legs. she has no choice—clara’s gone, and she’s soaked without him. she nods, tight-lipped, and walks beside him, her pace brisk, his infuriatingly leisurely. his closeness sets her nerves alight, a mix of fear and something she won’t name.

“you don’t talk much, runa,” he says, his voice cutting through the rain’s roar.

“i don’t talk to strangers,” she snaps, her cheeks hot.

he chuckles, low and mocking. “what, parroting your mother? got no personality of your own?”

she stops dead, halfway to the church, the cemetery empty save for tombstones shrouded in rain. “who do you think you are?” she hisses, turning to face him. “my personality’s none of your business. stop acting like you know me with your smug little comments.”

his smile widens, a glint of triumph in his eyes. “there it is.”

“what?” she snaps.

“that fire,” he says, stepping closer, the umbrella tilting to shield them both. “that spark you’ve buried under all this repression. you’re a volcano, runa, and it’s begging to erupt.”

“you sound insane,” she says, her voice shaking but firm. “talking to people you don’t know like this? you’re unhinged.”

“fuchsteufelswild,” he says, the word foreign, sharp.

“what?”

“not ‘insane,’” he corrects, leaning closer, the rain a white curtain around them, blurring the world. “but aren’t you awfully trusting, alone with someone you call unhinged?”

her heart skips. “are you trying to scare me?”

“no,” he says, his eyes boring into hers, gray and endless. “here you are, runa, alone with a boy in the rain, where no one can see. isn’t that against your rules?”

her breath catches. how does he know about my rules? “i’m just staying dry,” she says, forcing steel into her voice. “you think i want to be here with you? let’s go.”

he doesn’t move. “one question first.”

she crosses her arms, glaring. “what?”

“what would you do if i kissed you, runa?”

her eyes widen, shock rooting her in place. he leans closer, and she slaps a hand over her mouth, her face burning.

matt laughs, a low, delighted sound. “knew that’d be fun.”

“you’re crazy,” she mutters, lowering her hand, her voice trembling.

“you said that already,” he says, gesturing to the path. “after you, miss.”

they’re steps from the church now, its doors a faint outline in the deluge. matt stops, thrusting the umbrella into her hands and stepping into the rain. water soaks him instantly, his hair darkening, clinging to his face, his suit ruined. he doesn’t flinch.

“what are you doing?” runa asks, clutching the umbrella, confused. by the most high, that suit looks expensive.

“your mother wouldn’t like us arriving together,” he says, rain streaming down his face. “don’t want to get you in trouble.” he nods at the umbrella. “plus, it’s an excuse to see me again. you’ll have to return it, right?”

she opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts her off. “see you around, runa.” he flashes that crooked smile, adding, “oh, and today? confirmed it.”

“confirmed what?” she calls, but he’s already turning.

“that i’m gonna have a hell of a time with you,” he says, vanishing into the rain’s white haze.

©pokesturns any and all forms of modifications, reposts, and translation of my work are prohibited.

› TAGLIST ﹕─┈ @sturniolohohoho @zenithsturniolo @courta13 @pizzapocketpocketpizza @izzylovesmatt @venusbabysblog @riasturns @bbgirlmatt @urlocallera @irlbcmbi @lvrsturniolo

[mzyjxu]

here's the part-2 3 4 5

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

It was the night of September, the wind was howling and the rain was lashing—cries pouring from the sky, washing the city in melancholy and havoc. You pulled your coat tighter around you, shoes squeaking steadily through the empty street as you tried to hold your umbrella steady against the wind.

You have just finished your night shift, as a resident doctor it is never easy to sign out of duty, you are always needed by the professors by the nurses even the interns- especially the interns, going home after 4 days of being in the hospital feels satisfactory, still the hospital beeps humming in your bones, your mind fogged from hours of surgery and smell of sterilization.

You are almost home, planning to watch Derry Girls with perfectly cooked pasta, a recipe that popped into your feed earlier today, though you are not a kitchen wiz you somehow manage to survive on your cooking.

You turned left for your street, smiling- the familiar curve of the road anticipating the comfort of your home.

Then you saw him.

At first, it looked like a dark void just in front of the dumpster—a bundle of cloth, maybe trash from the restaurant across the street. It was leather, some kind of a leather jacket—your instincts pulled you towards it—you made slow padded steps towards it. Your eyes sharpened.

A hand.

Fingers curled. Blood.

Your breath caught.

Without hesitation, you rushed forward, umbrella flung aside and long gone with the wind, knees sinking into cold water pooling along the gutter. The man flopped against the dumpster, unmoving, light ricocheting against his face periodically by the flickering streetlamp above. His shirt was torn, drenched in blood and rain, his pants were torn and the blood from his knee was dried implying that he was lying here for a while, his jacket was the only piece of cloth that was protecting his limp body from the harsh rain. Bruises bloomed across his cheekbone, and a gash cut deep across his brow. You gently cupped his cheek. He was burning—burning—with fever.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, touching his pulse, it's faint but there, fighting for survival.

“Hey,” you said louder, your voice slicing through the pit-pat of the rain breaking its flow. “Hey—can you hear me?”

No answer. His lips were pale. His breath was ragged.

Your heart kicked. You didn’t have time to think. You can't take him to the hospital it's a long way, ambulance will take ages to come on this rainy day. You have to act fast.

"I- I am going to help you stand now, okay?" you hesitantly told him, in case he can listen to you.

You tried to pull him with all your strength, but he didn't budge, "fuck what to do.." panic started to rise in your breath, you stood up, frantic, scanning the street for anything—anyone—that might help.

Then suddenly—YOU RAN. Faster than you'd ever run, your heartbeat crashing louder than the thunder, the wind screaming at you harshly, you slipped once- twice but you told yourself that he’s not going to die here. Not tonight. His stars were aligned. Somehow, impossibly, they were. And you were going to make sure of it.

You arrived at your complex, frantically finding someone as you caught sight of the old security guard on duty. His eyes widened the moment he saw you, breathless, desperate.

“Mr. Chow, I need your help—someone’s hurt.”

Without hesitation, he followed. Together, with effort and shaking limbs, you both managed to drag the man from the street and finally upstairs, one step at a time.

Inside your apartment, you laid him down carefully. Mr. Chow looked at you, concerned, unsure, but you met his gaze, calm now, steady.

“I got him’,” you said. “He's not dying on me tonight, I'll make sure of it."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈

note: hi guys my name is mimi, it's my first post here, i finally built up the courage to share some of my writing, english is not my first language so pardon any mistakes and flaws, i'll try my best to improve.

[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.

[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.

[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. 

[stretch-writes]

okay lets uh. do the first official one of these on this blog now KSNGKES

LADS men and their fall weather fun (because im sad that summer is almost here i want it to be fall once more !!!)

Xavier:

Xavier I think would have a higher cold weather tolerance. Not by a lot but just enough. He's fine going out in a hoodie and jeans. Maybe some cute boots too if its wet from the rain.

I think if Halloween was a thing in the LADS universe, he'd love to try and make cute pumpkin treats or spooky halloween treats. He'd fail of course but you can always help him with that :3

I think he'd dress up as a bedsheet ghost for Halloween

Besides Halloween, his favorite thing would be to stay at home with you and cuddle until you two fall asleep. <3

Zayne:

I know he has an Evol that's ice and that he does get evol backlash but i think he has an average cold weather tolerance (just a little less so if he has the backlash). Would dress appropriately for the weather of course.

If Halloween was a thing, I think he'd like to try making sweets with you too. However, he would be the type of house to also hand out apples to trick-or-treaters. You'd be in charge of candy (he'd eat it all if he was)

He'd dress as either a zombie doctor or a skeleton. (oh! and the skele'un! that was real special /ref)

Besides spooky stuff, I think he'd like to try and get cafe dates with you! Getting nice pumpkin flavored treats :3

Rafayel:

Cold weather tolerance wise, I think Rafayel would be less average, and will be dramatic about it (complain about it even though he's dressed with more layers, placing cold hands on your neck, etc.)

Halloween, definitely Phantom of the Opera costume (he has that Phantom of the Siren outfit) and he does give out candy! However he also tries to keep some so you two can have candy.

Would try to make various spooky or nice fall paintings for the season.

His favorite thing to do with you would be trick or treating with you. I think he'd enjoy it, and you're never too old to trick or treat :D

Sylus:

Strangely, cold tolerance wise, I think he'd be a tiny less immune to it, and that combined with his idea of fashion > comfort (i think he's like that at least SOMETIMES) he does get sick at one point during fall.

Halloween, of course he's going to go all out. He's turning his fancy ass house into more of a vampire lair.

Would get matching couple costumes with you (most popular idea with him is a vampire with his victim)

I don't think the N109 Zone would be safe for trick or treating so you two can either A) go to your apartment to do so or B) just. snack on the candy while watching scary movies

Luke and Kieran also dress up as spooky twins from media (which has scared you at least twice and Sylus once)

Sylus's favorite fall thing to do with you is stay inside while it's storming/raining and just...vibing. Just listening to the rain.

Caleb:

This motherfucker would wear basketballs shorts in cold rainy weather you cannot pry that from me (of course wears a jacket though to protect his metal arm) (also strangely doesn't get sick from it....how the fuck does he do it)

For Halloween, he'd be the ultimate prankster I think. He'd always try and scare you like he's Michael Afton from the FNAF 4 game. Would also trick or treat with you (he's wearing an old timey pilot costume with the hat and goggles and scarf)

Besides trying to spook you, he likes to do a lot of fall activities actually. His favorite is going to a farm with you to pick out apples and pumpkins to make jack-o-lanterns and various treats. Very cottage-core and cute! (also he always buys apple cider and apple cinnamon donuts with you. you both eat those donuts in one bite, even)

[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