#Quick Weather Forecast

[meteorologistaustenlonek]

WDEFweather #News12Weather #blipcast Tuesday: Warm and humid with more chances for showers and thunderstorms tonight and over the rest of the week.

Details tonight on @WDEFNews12 at 5:30, 6, 7 & 11.

[merakiui]

coastal conversation.

yandere!floyd leech x (female) reader cw: (soft/subtle) yandere, nsfw, breeding, obsession, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, slight delusion, floyd's kind of a pervert in this one note - everything is in bloom in spring: the plants, the incessant rain, romance… for floyd, it means mating season.

In the most unfiltered way, Floyd feels like utter shit. 

He tossed and turned all throughout the night, drowning in an ocean of his own sweat. One minute, he was hot all over, thus the blankets were cast off, and the next he was chilled to his marrow so badly he had to cocoon himself in those same drenched sheets. Even though it’s early spring and the unpredictable forecast has hammered NRC’s campus with floods of cool rain, Octavinelle Dorm is kept at suitable temperatures for its residents.

Therefore, it shouldn’t be much of an issue. He’ll regulate and bounce back…or whatever it is human bodies do when throttled with wild weather.

Floyd has an innate sensitivity to everything, so it’s no surprise he’s able to immediately zero in on it—the creeping suspicion that something’s wrong. He knows he’s falling ill, but there are way too many human ailments for him to recall and some of them aren’t even worth pitching a fit over. He takes pride in his human immune system, which the doctors have observed is healthy every year he’s had to sit for his medical exams, so, really, he has no reason to fret.

And he’s not. It’s more inconvenient than anything. He has plans today—plans he’s not exactly thrilled about—but plans nonetheless. This mounting sickness is the perfect excuse to ditch them and sleep the weekend away. If he believed in all that universe-speaking-through-signs crap, he’d say fate is on his side. It’s destiny telling him not to go on this blind date.

That’s right. A blind date. Those are the plans.

He’s not even sure why he agreed to it in the first place. Maybe because it sounded interesting at the time it was proposed, but now he has to actually execute everything he once marveled at in theory. And dates are so much work, even more so when you’re not feeling it.

But Jade—the professional provocateur that he is—went and blabbed about this development to their mother, who was so thrilled on Floyd’s behalf and wished him all the best. If she wasn’t stuck in the sea with her own business to handle, she’d come up there to visit and cheer him on—something Floyd was quick to veto. He loves his mama, but sometimes she can be excessive in her affections. Any other day he’d be pleased to bask in it, but not when he’s feeling so volatile. It’s like the four seasons are at constant war within his body, each one battling for sole control over his temperament.

Still, he’s a little curious.

He’s never been on a blind date before. It was arranged through an app he’d downloaded for the sake of slaking his boredom. Find your next Charming Darling. That’s what the app advertised—purely fairy-tale experiences. True love and princesses and all kinds of lovey-dovey stuff Floyd scrunched his nose at. Azul had said the app itself seemed “dubious at best, but most certainly a scam,” as it worked only by pairing two anonymous users together for online chatting. It was a location thing, apparently. You wouldn’t know who you were talking to and neither would the other person—each profile kept private for suspense or some other stupid reason—but you’d both know where the other was in proximity to you. 

And it just so happened that Floyd’s Charming Darling was close. On campus close. 

He wondered which small fry had matched with him, and it was his theorizing that convinced him to melt out of bed and into clothes for the day. He can handle a few hours in town. He needs to pick up some things anyway, so if the date is a bust the trip won’t have been for nothing.

After confirming the meeting place with his so-called ‘darling’, he pulls his sneakers on, stuffs his wallet in his pocket, and then sets off to catch the bus into town. 

Even though the sun is high in the sky, the would-be heat is chilled by the gentle breeze rolling in from the coast. His head is pounding and stuffed full of crackling static and wires, and he feels an impossible itch deep beneath his skin. But the pleasant weather manages to lift his spirits enough for him to let his date know he’s arrived at the café. He finds a table outside and plops down, content to wait after receiving an enthusiastic almost there text.

He smells you before he sees you.

Suddenly, the sticky-sweet aroma of candy and pastries and every other saccharine thing invades his senses. It’s thrilling like blood in the water, widening his pupils until his eyes are nearly twin pools of the deepest black, but instead of iron and injury he catches the floral notes of arousal. Or maybe it’s a scarily strong perfume.

Either way, it has his hunting instincts switched on, that predatory hindbrain of his prickling with the urge to chase and capture prey.  

Just before he can sift through the other scents slamming his nose and narrow in on that very specific one, someone speaks up.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. You’re my Prince Charming?”

Oh, he knows that voice. Immediately, whatever bad mood was sitting on simmer in the back of his head shuts off and is replaced with a burst of positive energy. A malicious smile curls on his lips, one he’s all too eager to flash at you when he turns around in his seat.

He almost falls out of it.

You look different. It’s a good sort of different. In your pretty blouse and skirt, stockings pulled up to your knees, you look ready for a date. You’ve even styled your hair and done your makeup to match your outfit. It’s a stark contrast to how you normally look at school: perpetually exhausted, too lazy to do anything more than simply pull your uniform on and attempt a semi-presentable attitude. Enough to get through the day. But this… This is a genuine effort.

You got all dressed up for this little date. Even put on a pretty scent.

All for him.

Cute.

If this was the sea, you’d attract all sorts of predators.

Thankfully, your scowl is evidence enough that you’re too miffed to notice his uncharacteristic silence. He beams up at you, the picture of innocence.

“Heya, Shrimpy. Looks like you’re the one I’m s’posed to meet.” To prove it, he holds his phone up for you to see. The chat log glints back at you.

“Unfortunately.” You fix your purse strap and eye the surrounding area with a frown. Floyd can tell you’re searching for your real date because you don’t believe it could be him. When you check your phone for confirmation, your expression sours. “So it really is you.”

“In the flesh. Sooo. You gonna sit?”

“I guess. I already made the trip here, might as well.” You slide into the seat across from him.

“Ya look good.”

“And you look like you just crawled out of a cave.”

“Nope, not a cave.” He rests his elbows on the table and leans in, a giggle tickling the back of his throat. “Bed.”

“Yeah, that sounds like you.”

“If I’d known it was gonna be you, I woulda wore somethin’ nice.”

“Can’t get much nicer than this.” You gesture at him vaguely and he laughs. He’s glad he didn’t miss this. “Whatever. I’ll just get some cake to go and be on my way.”

“Whaaat? That’s lame. Aren’t ya gonna stay a bit?”

I’ll make it fun, so don’t go.

“Why? Are you?”

He nods.

“You don’t even like me. Why would I make myself—and you—even more miserable by staying?”

“Cuz,” he replies with a noncommittal shrug, like that answers it.

Instead of offering him a response, you pry the menu open and hide behind the flaps.

“Didn’t think you were the dating app type,” he tries, aiming for small talk.

You lower your menu to look at him. “Tell me, Floyd. What’s the ‘dating app type’ supposed to look like?”

He leans back in his seat, amused by your annoyance. “Dunno.” And then, before you can recover, a rapid-fire question: “Who were you hopin’ to meet today?”

Tell me so I can beat ’em into the ground.

He snaps out of the sudden territorial jealousy and, like the waves, feels the violent urge ebb away. 

Weird. He’s not looking to start a fight today. So then why is he so…restless?

“Not you. You’re the furthest thing from my ideal Prince Charming.”

And he’s back in the ring, ready to swap verbal vitriol until someone succumbs to the blow. “Well, what’s your perfect, li’l prince look like?”

“I don’t know.” You huff and retreat behind the menu, and right then he knows he has you cornered. “Anyone but you.”

“Aww. C’mon, Shrimpy, ya gotta have an image of ’em, at least. If you’ve spent so much time thinkin’ about it—” and he knows you have because he was present for all of those midnight text exchanges, trading details on future partners like they were cards— “then you’ve gotta have an idea.”

“It’ll never be you, so I don’t see why you’re so interested.” But then you slam your fist against your palm. “Oh, I get it. You just want dirt on me.”

“What? No way. That’s boring.” He pulls a disgusted face. He’s not the type to rely on psychological warfare and mental manipulation. So not his style.

“Isn’t that your whole angle?”

His mood promptly nosedives. “Just cuz I’m in Octavinelle and I hang with Jade and Azul doesn’t mean I follow their flow by the letter,” he snaps.

Rather than flinch back, his irritated tone seems to smooth out your stiffness and he watches you visibly relax. He thinks that’s strange. Why aren’t you scared? Not that it’s his intention to frighten you. The last thing he wants is to chase you off. He’s waited so long for a moment like this one; he isn’t going to ruin it.

That’s why he’s so thrilled you’re you. The other small fry would just quiver like a bunch of babies, but you’re different. You meet his mood swings head-on, unflinching and unbothered. Patient, that’s what he’d call it. You’re patient. Not surgically so like Jade and definitely not meticulously like Azul. Your patience is like a tide pool. Calm and transparent. No ulterior motives. 

It’s just you. That’s why he likes you so much. No elaboration needed.

“In that case, I could turn the question on you,” you continue, idly scanning the menu. “What does Floyd Leech’s ideal partner look like?”

Fuck. He wants you to say his name again. It pokes at some dormant part in his brain, the one that’s just starting to wake, humming with a queasy sort of desire. He fidgets with the menu, more focused on the extensive list of treats than the contents of your question.

He could say his ideal partner is you, but you probably wouldn’t believe him. And because of that it’s not worth using as a shock factor. Too predictable.

“Someone fun,” he says after a beat of quiet.

“So it was you… I can’t believe I didn’t realize that while we were texting.”

“Wasn’t obvious for me either. You talk so casually over text. It’s like a completely different Shrimpy.”

Equipped with this new information, it drapes another layer of context over your conversations. Because now he can associate your face with all of those flustered messages. He’s proud of that—of teasing you and eliciting such sweet reactions. To think it was you on the other end this entire time. He wonders if he made your heart skip a beat. Or maybe you stuffed your face in a pillow to hide your embarrassment. He pictures you holed up in Ramshackle, vibrating with nervous excitement.

Cute, cute, cute.

Refusing to dignify that with a proper retort, you fold your menu, pass it to the waiter, and voice your order. Floyd follows your lead, rattling off the name of the first dessert that caught his eye. 

Just beyond the umbrella shielding both of you from the sun’s searing gaze, storm clouds begin to darken the pastel sky. 

To shake off the ache that’s beginning to brew behind his eyes, he asks you about your plans for spring break. He must have won the small talk lottery because the suspicion in your stare disappears and you launch into a full-blown lecture about all the things you plan to get done. A whole grocery list. You’re going to be one busy Shrimpy come next week. A shame he won’t be around to witness it.

He’s keen to listen because it’s really all he can do with his waning focus. Your voice reels him in when his attention drifts. He doesn’t realize he’s admiring your mouth as it sounds out syllables he can only just register. Suddenly, it’s like he can���t even parse human speech. You’re looking through him, brows furrowed.

He’s always thought about kissing you. It’s in a moray’s nature to lie in wait, shrouded in the shadows, patiently waiting for the opportune moment. He doesn’t have anything to hide behind now, though. And if he kissed you here he thinks you might slap him. That would be invigorating.

Something stirs in him. 

No. Actually, it’s…

The world.

The world is being stirred. Someone’s stuffed a spatula into the fluffy mixture and given it a steady whirl, and now everything’s a blurry mess of shapes and colors. He blinks rapidly to clear his vision.

It’s too hot. He needs to peel himself out of his skin and soak in the abyssopelagic zone.

Is he sweating? He must be. He’d lick at the liquid gathering between his armpits to determine that, but he’s on a date with you and human courtship dictates that he must impress you. So he can’t do things humans consider ‘gross’ or ‘indecent’. He has to leave a nice impression. He has to prove to you he’s just as good, if not better, than your lousy Prince Charming.

So he wipes his palms on his pants. Not that he’ll hold your hand. He thinks you’d sooner chop your own hands off than willingly reach for him, and the image of this extreme aversion is too funny to offend him. 

Floyd swallows thickly. Your smell is so strong. Have you always smelled like this? Now that he’s looking at you, you appear…softer. He can’t explain it. Your skin looks healthier. The darkness sitting under your eyes isn’t nearly as sunken in as it usually is. Your lips shimmer with a beautiful shade of pink-red. It’s almost like you’re glowing.

If you were a mer, he thinks you’d be an ornamental fish. A pretty thing kept pampered, fins flowing like skirts, scales bright like individual chips of glass. A beguiling beauty who is just as fierce as she is stunning. 

Maybe, he wonders, his gaze trailing down to your chest, you have eggs. Maybe that’s why you look softer. 

“oyd… Floyd!”

He snaps back to himself. “Hmm?”

“Are you listening?”

“What part?” he asks without missing a beat, still smiling even though it hurts to do anything more than simply breathe. “Shrimpy’s got lotsa plans. You’re gonna be all diligent and hardworking. Hey, you should stay over at Octavinelle. We’ll keep ya nice and busy there.” 

You roll your eyes. “Keep dreaming.”

He giggles. Oh, if only you knew of all the things he dreams about. Nothing can compare to the real Shrimpy, though. The one who glares at him like he’s an insect. The one who puffs up like a pufferfish when upset or angry. The one who always has such fun reactions to his teasing. How could he possibly stay away?

Just then, the desserts arrive. Floyd can’t find the appetite and is instead satisfied watching you eagerly receive your fruity drink and cake. He scoops a bite of pudding on his spoon and holds it out to you. Unsurprisingly, you scowl at it.

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s a date, ain’t it? Gotta live up to your expectations.” And then, because he’s itching for your hands on him, whether to hit him or choke him out, he adds, “Shrimpy’s got some reeeal high standards.”

“Ugh. Gross. You’re the last person I’d want to feed me. And I’ve got my own food, thank you.”

“Ya sure? Should I manta it?”

“Should you what?” You fix him with a critical look, but he can see the interest bubbling beneath the thin veil of confusion.

“Y’know, manta it. Like this.” He moves his arm so that the spoon glides along an invisible current, moving smoothly like a manta ray. “Mama used to do that all the time when I didn’t wanna eat somethin’.”

“So the fish version of the airplane.”

“Eeh? That’s what humans do?”

You shrug. “It works.”

Floyd thinks he still prefers the manta. “Sooo. Wanna give it a try?” He’s itching to prove he can provide for you, even if it’s just pudding and not heaps and heaps of fish or an entire shark carcass. 

You eye his spoon​​ warily. “What flavor is it?”

“Secret,” he hums, delighted. 

“Fine. Just one bite.” You reach to grab it, but he moves his arm up and away. 

“Nuh-uh. You gotta let me do it. Defeats the whole purpose if you do it yourself.”

You submit, albeit with a stubborn pout. 

“Now say ‘aah’,” he prompts, thinking you might really swing your fist. 

Begrudgingly, you lean in and open your mouth wide. “Aah.”

Floyd straightens up in his seat, his eyes the size of plates. He swallows thickly, curling his free hand into a fist. He feels his nails pierce his palm, sharpened points drawing the tiniest pricks of blood. You crack an eye open, all while your wide, impatient mouth gapes back at him.

“Never mind,” he mutters, stabbing the spoon into the pudding and shoving the dish at you. He avoids your searching eyes and instead burns quietly in the flames of his own embarrassed arousal.

“Ugh. I can’t believe I fell for such an obvious trick,” you scoff around a dainty bite of cake. “Honestly… Life was so much better before I found out you were my match.”

Awkwardly, he rubs the back of his neck. He could make dozens of home runs out of the depravity that’s become his thoughts, what with how frequently he’s batting them away. When he looks at his hand, he finds a thin membrane webbing between each of his fingers.

That can’t be good.

“You can have mine,” he blurts, nudging the pudding towards you. “’m not hungry.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t suppose you want something in return for your generosity?”

“What do ya have to offer?” he asks, swallowing the bucket of saliva pooling on his tongue. It coats his dry throat on the way down. He can’t think like this. Maybe he really is sick because you’re all he can smell right now. It’s like he’s zoned in on it, a shark drawn to blood. Nothing else matters. You’re the only Shrimpy in his sea.

Predators, he remembers, the reminder tacked onto his mental bulletin like an afterthought. 

Restlessly, he glances about. He flexes his fingers, curling and uncurling them. Deep down he’s aware this doesn’t mean anything. You’re not his mate, but he wants to protect you anyway. That’s probably the last thing you want, though. You’re a capable Shrimpy. It’s one of your many strengths. 

Still… It’s nice to pretend, if only for the moment.

“An actual date,” you say, sipping at your drink. 

The way your lips close around the straw is so unintentionally erotic it brings him back to a few minutes ago, when you opened your mouth at him. He should’ve reciprocated, but then it wouldn’t have meant anything. Not to you, anyway.

To clear his head and hopefully cool his boiling temperature, he stuffs a spoonful of pudding in his mouth. It’s sugary but not nearly as much as he’s certain you are. If he licked a stripe up your neck, perhaps he’d know your taste for sure.

“Since we’re here, we might as well, right?” you add and he’s brought back to the present. “And then after that we never have to see each other again.”

“Uh-huh…”

He remains unconvinced. No matter how much you push him away, he’ll still be there to pop up and surprise you on campus.

He’s a bother, and you—sitting beautiful and shimmering in the glow of spring courtship—are everything he’s ever dreamed of.

So it’s definitely eggs, he decides, his mind made up. How else can he explain the smell and the softness, all tell-tale signs of a mate in waiting?

Floyd has never been one to pursue smooth seas, preferring the euphoria of a hard-earned success. But Sea Witch below does he wish today wasn’t so challenging. How is he supposed to express everything in his heart if you can’t even read his body language? He’s not even sure if he can gauge yours. Do you want to mate with him? That’s why you prettied up your fins and…

No.

No, no, no.

He has to remember this is a blind date. You had no idea it was going to be him and neither did he. He wants to come out and say it because the complexities of moray courtship are struggling to get through the muddiness of your own human signs.

It occurs to Floyd he could just cast a spell so that his thoughts are broadcasted to you and he can read yours. But that’s a dirty trick, one that would be heavily frowned upon in the sea and perhaps even on land as well. It’s all so complex. He doesn’t have the energy for all of this thinking.

With a petulant whine, he melts onto the table in a puddle of pouty Floyd. 

You raise a questioning brow and finish off the rest of your cake. “I’m eating your pudding so it doesn’t go to waste.”

He waves you off. “Don’t got much of an appetite for it anyway.”

“Suit yourself.” Shrugging, you take a bite and hum in delight. The tiny smile that traces your lips stuns him.

Oh.

He’s never seen you smile like that before… Usually, if you’re smiling, it’s one of malice—directed at him and accompanied with the threat of a clenched fist.

From where his head rests against the table, he’s free to admire you and your gluttony. Will this be enough? If you have eggs, you need to eat so much more than a measly slice of cake and some pudding. 

But before he can call the waiter over to order everything on the menu, there’s a loud tearing sound and then a heavy flop. He glances behind him and finds his tail is protruding from his lower back like a thick, winding snake. It thumps against the ground in anticipation, almost as if it’s wagging.

That’s fun!

“So,” he starts, lifting his head to look at you properly. He remembers something you told him over text, when it was well past midnight and the both of you had strayed into more private discussions. “Shrimpy’s never had her first kiss, hm?”

“And it’s not going to be with you, so don’t even try,” is your scathing comeback.

Fuck, he wants you.

A wild grin breaks out on his face, sharpening in time with the fins that pop out from his ears. Crisp sounds rush in all at once, as if the cotton has been tugged out. Traffic, nearby conversations, the shush-shush of the waves crashing against the rocks. He pulls a face at the cacophony assaulting his hyper-sensitive ear-fins.

You stare at him. “You’re…green.”

“Huh?”

But then his fins shred through his sleeves and it becomes apparent his mer features are starting to poke through his human disguise. Teal flashes across his skin in speckled patches, swallowing up what’s left of his previously pale coloration. 

This is odd because, as much as he despises it, he choked back that nasty potion just a few days ago to avoid this exact scenario. What gives?

It’s in this transitional stage, the space between half-human, half-mer, that the haze really settles in. Floyd staggers to his feet, rifling around for his wallet, and slams a fistful of bills down. It’s getting bad. He needs something he can’t have, and if he spends any more time here…

“We should go,” you say before he can, already out of your chair. “You need to get back to school or… Well, I guess if it comes down to it we can go to Craneport and throw you in the water there. It’s not too far from here.”

“Aww. Worried I’m gonna dry out?” He manages a casual tone despite the heat bubbling in his blood.

“As if. I just don’t want to haul your heavy eel ass around.” Scoffing, you step out from under the shade of the umbrella.

Just in time for the first few droplets of rain to come pattering down. You and Floyd glance skyward before sharing a quiet look. He extends his hand to catch a few drops on his palm.

“Look at that. The weather wants us to stay together,” he remarks, delirious.

“Even the universe wants us to split,” you speak over him.

“Hee-hee. The universe’s gonna hafta try harder than that. This is nothin’.”

As if in response to his challenge, lightning flashes across the sky in a crackling arc. It’s quickly followed by deep, rumbling thunder. Again, you and Floyd eye each other. His wide, toothy grin makes you frown. But that becomes the least of your worries when a smattering of rain comes pouring down on both of you. 

You gasp, your hands flying up to protect yourself. “My clothes! My hair!”

Floyd watches you fall into a panicked sprint, his tail swishing to and fro. He doesn’t care about the many stares he’s starting to draw when he takes off after you, his obnoxious laughter echoing down the path. His clothes are already ruined. A rainstorm isn’t going to make any difference. 

You take shelter in an alley, beneath an awning shared by conjoined buildings. Just beyond, a steady curtain of rain falls. Floyd marvels at it with a whistle. What a downpour… The forecast didn’t say anything about rain, but then he supposes that’s normal for springtime on land.

“As if this day couldn’t get any worse,” he hears you mutter. Floyd’s gaze pans from the slick street to you and finds you’re shivering. Your arms are wrapped around yourself and his mismatched eyes travel down, down, down.

Your blouse is clinging to your body and through the sopping fabric he can see the frilly outline of your bra. Unconsciously, his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He tastes sweat-tinged rain as it trails down his face in salty streaks. When he brushes his matted hair out of his eyes—and it feels more like he’s draped a mop of seaweed over his head—he finds you’ve lowered your arms and are now attempting to check your makeup with a pocket mirror.

“Nooo. I spent so much time on it, too…”

Can you get any cuter? If he could afford just the smallest peek, maybe he’d see what type of panties you’re wearing. Are they as lacy as your bra? Are they thin like it, too, allowing him to see the pebbled peaks of your nipples poking through?

Damn it all to the deepest trench! Floyd can’t take it anymore! He needs to know.

“How big is it?” he blurts, grabbing your shoulders. He’s careful not to dig his claws into you, even though his instincts are telling him to shred that silky blouse to ribbons, snap through the strap of your bra with a voracious chomp, and make you his. But you’re precious, not prey, and so he’ll try to exercise some restraint. 

You blink back at him in bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”

“You know…” he trails off in hopes that you’ll fill in the empty space.

“No, I don’t.” You shake him off, but he’s quick to latch onto your wrists next. “Seriously, I don’t! What’s gotten into you? You’re acting weird.”

Floyd inhales through his nose. A bad move because your pheromones or perfume—whatever the fuck it is—invade his senses all over again. He can’t keep swatting the inevitable away. It’s only a matter of time before his biology incapacitates him. But while he’s still semi-coherent he’s going to take this opportunity to tell you everything that’s been on his mind ever since he first saw you. 

That’s the plan, at least. How much of it he intends to follow, good question. 

You’re staring at him like he’s lost his mind and maybe he has, drenched and looking like a teal Godzilla. He pulls back to rake his hands through his soaked hair. 

“Y-Your clutch,” he mutters. “Can never tell in human form.”

“My…clutch. You want to know how big my clutch is. As in, like, eggs?” 

“Mhm.”

He avoids looking at you out of sheer embarrassment—this sort of thing requires tact and sly communication, not direct fumbling that could be borderline begging—so he can’t imagine what expression you might be making. There’s a long, drawn out silence. He prepares himself to be slapped or berated—maybe both.

You touch his arm gingerly. He peers at you. 

“If you were struggling, say so. Gosh, you’re so stubborn.”

Warmth and concern are hidden in those criticizing eyes. Even though your tone feels more like a scolding, it lifts his mood to know you care. He’d tease you for it, but he’s just not feeling it right now.

Floyd shakes off his reservations like a dog drying itself. For once, he doesn’t know what to say or do as he watches you through lidded eyes.

“I don’t really understand what’s going on, but you don’t feel good, right?” At that, he offers a small nod. “You were forcing yourself this entire time. Why didn’t you just leave? Why stick around and suffer?”

“Cuz Shrimpy was really lookin’ forward to this. Didn’t wanna disappoint ya.”

He wanted to impress you, show you that he’s a worthy mate, but that feels impossible now. With his back to the wall, he slides down until he’s sitting on the wet pavement. He’ll probably change back into a moray mer soon. Maybe the rain is delaying it. Maybe it’s the magical properties of the potion regulating what’s left of his human form.

You step into his line of sight then. His gaze travels up your stocking-clad legs. Before he can picture what’s beneath your skirt, you’re crouching down to view him. “I don’t think it matters whether you disappoint me or not.”

Yeah, it does. It matters cuz I like ya and want ya to have a good time.

“So you don’t have eggs,” he says, switching topics.

You sigh. “Yes, Floyd, I don’t have eggs. I’ve never had eggs. Not in the way you’re thinking. Humans don’t lay eggs.”

He knew that. Learned it in land boot camp. A shame. You’d look adorable saddled with a clutch or two.

But if that’s not the case, what’s with your smell? It can’t be perfume. Even the strongest of scents can’t compare to this. This is a sweetness that’s coming from between your legs, he’s sure of it. 

You’re reaching into your purse now. “What’s Azul’s number? I’ll give him a call. Don’t push yourself.”

His tail moves without thinking, coiling around your waist to drag you closer. The force of it knocks you forward. With a startled yelp, you shoot your arms out to brace yourself against the wall, unintentionally caging him in. He gazes up at you, an unfocused stare that you hold with newfound intensity.

“Floyd,” you breathe, and he can see you’re scanning his face for answers.

Gently, you run your fingers over the dark swirls on his cheekbones. He gives a full-body shudder in response, biting back an enthusiastic trill when your touches trail to his ear-fins. He flexes his tail and squeezes your waist. He shouldn’t let it go further than this.

But if he does he could finally have you.

“I’ll help. Whatever this is, I’ll…do my best.”

Now it’s his turn to be confused. “You sure?”

You glance at his lap. Floyd follows your line of sight to find his cock pressed prominently against his pants. You swipe his hair back and hold your hand to his forehead.

“You’re burning up! Why would you even come out in the first place if you’re so sick?”

“Didn’t think it’d get this bad.”

You huff. “You’re unbelievable. Aren’t you scared?”

“Course not. How can I be when Nurse Shrimpy is takin’ good care of me?” He tries a playful smirk, but it falls short into a grimace.

“Whatever.” A serious look passes over your face next. “I’m not sure what to do, but… But I think it’s safe to…to do it. That’s what you need, isn’t it?”

Floyd drags you into his lap. “More or less, yeah.”

He doesn’t have to get into the details. That’s for future Floyd to explain…or not.

“Okay. Then… Hurry up and get it over with. The rain’s cold.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll warm ya up.”

“If I get sick from this, I’ll kill you.”

“Hee-hee.”

You shift awkwardly, searching for the right rhythm when you press down against his erection. Floyd hisses through his teeth. It almost doesn’t seem real. He thinks he can feel your pussy through your panties, and he wonders if they’re just wet from the rain or from something else. While you roll your hips, his hands move up to fiddle with the buttons on your blouse. It’s significantly harder to undo them when his claws are long and curved, and in a fit of impatience he grabs hold of the fabric and yanks it open. It comes away with a rip, buttons popping off and exposing your rain-slick skin and bra, much to his minacious delight.

“Floyd!” You yelp as he tips you backwards, pressing you against the cobbled ground. This new position allows him to slot himself between your legs, where he ruts like a mindless animal.

“I’ll get you a new one,” he promises, his mouth laving over your neck.

He just barely remembers to tug his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock, now more moray in structure, the shaft tinted teal and peppered with dozens of nubs. He nearly shreds through his underwear when his claws catch on the waistband. All you can manage is an aggrieved whine, which soon tapers off into a low moan when the head of his cock bumps against your clit.

“Off.”

“Wait, wait! I’ll do it. This is my nicest pair—don’t you dare ruin them.”

He’s sure they’re nice, but right now he doesn’t have time to appreciate them in full. He needs to be inside you or else he’ll pass out. The want is unbearable. Fuck, he wishes this was the sea. It would be easier to entice you there, with colors and scents and shows of strength. It’s way too complicated on land.

Your panties aren’t even halfway down your legs before he’s burrowing himself between your soft folds. It feels better than anything he’s ever known before. You’re warm and gooey inside, squeezing him like you’re intent on snapping his dick in half. And suddenly he can’t think or speak. Everything is blank as he grabs your hips and pulls you down. Your pussy swallows him up in one reckless thrust, and you squeak in surprise when it knocks against your deepest part. He feels your arms wrap around his neck, your legs twisting around his waist, and you cling to him like you’re afraid the storm will sweep you away. 

He can’t muster another second of patience or restraint, so he slams in and out of you at an erratic pace, chasing the euphoric bliss that’ll finally satisfy every instinct buzzing beneath his skin. 

“S-Slow down, Floyd! I ca—aah—can’t! S’too much,” you babble and dig your nails into his back, which only serves to embolden the brutal snap of his hips against yours.

“Shorry,” he rasps against your skin, his mouth watering with so much drool it drips in fat, warm drops and puddles in the slope between shoulder and neck.

He’s a pathetic moray. He can’t even offer you a nice cave to curl up in. He can’t even manage the patience to prepare you, to work you up until you’re glistening with desire. The best he can do is this filthy alley during the worst weather ever, and even then it’s far from romantic. 

To offer you a modicum of comfort, he slides his tail beneath you to raise your ass for a better angle and provide a pillow for your head. You cry out a string of incoherent words. He pants against your pulse, the little heartbeat pounding in time with his own. 

It’s wet and filthy and desperate. He’s not even sure if he’s breathing. All he knows is that he needs to fill you until you’re heavy with his seed, until your pussy weeps nothing but cum. You can’t walk around with your fins all prettied up, smelling like a sweet treat, attracting the worst kinds of predators with each step. If you smell more like him—if every inch of you is marked by him—no one else would dare to approach you. He’ll make damn sure of it.

Oh, that’s what this is.

Mating season.

Perhaps he could’ve gotten it out of his system if he stayed on campus and swam laps in Octavinelle’s special pool. He’s not used to feeling it in spring, but then his cycle has never followed any set schedule. It’s only this bad because he saw you—because he caught your scent and it flipped the switch in his brain, the one that’s screaming at him to breed his mate.

Because that’s what you are, even if you don’t know it yet.

That’s what you’re going to be. Biology won’t give you a choice.

Floyd grits his teeth, his pace mostly uneven now. He won’t bite. He’s not sure he can control his strength, and if he sinks his teeth into you what’s stopping him from tearing the flesh from your bones? Instead, he presses sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to the space above your heart. His arms twist tightly around you to keep you trapped in place.

It’s fine if you think he’s scum or the worst moray in the Coral Sea. 

Nothing is more titillating than a challenge.

Wrapped up in you and your hypnotic scent, your breathless voice in his ears, he cums so hard his vision whites out. You seem to have done the same, for your pussy clenches like a vise, rendering you boneless beneath him.

The haze in his head is dizzying. He blinks until color returns and that’s when he tugs your skirt up to see where you’re connected. He’s buried snugly inside, keeping all of his cum plugged deep. Your chest rises and falls with every wheezing gasp, and in this moment you are so fragile he thinks you might shatter if he fucks into you without warning again.

A feral smile widens on his lips. 

“Hey, Shrimpy.” He nudges your cheek until your head lolls to the side. He knows you’re still conscious because your eyes, ringed with ruined eyeliner, find his. “There you are. Don’t fall asleep on me, ’kay?”

Thunder rumbles in the distance. 

He leans in close. “Didja know? You came to this li’l date smellin’ suuuper sweet and I came sick.”

It takes a moment for you to register his words, but when you do all you can provide is an intelligent: “Huh?”

His hands settle on your spread legs, claws digging shallowly into the meat of your thighs. “Isn’t that funny?”

“Wha… I don’t…” You shake your head. “Don’t get it.”

“Hee-hee. Did I fuck all the brains outta ya? Oops. Guess you’ll figure it out later then.”

We’re each other’s cure, he thinks, his form shadowing yours.

And now a mated pair.

[ninikrumbs]

things he'd never admit

Sukuna x femreader. Just pure fluff. modern au. Soft Sukuna. Sukuna is bad at emotions. first time writing for sukuna so this could be bad.

The smell of rain reaches your nose first making you look up at the dark and gloomy clouds in slight panic, "Damn, its gonna rain soon."

Quickly, you run to the bus station, but apparently not quick enough as you made it halfway through before the soft pitter patter of rain slowly turns louder.

Lady luck was not on your side today. After long tiring day at University, you're now about to turn into a wet rat. A cute wet rat, but still a rat.

It was probably a dumb thing to do, especially when the pouring rain was now blurring your vision, yet you still continued running down the slippery pathway anyways, trying to salvage your books and papers inside your gradually dampening bag.

A low, annoyed grumble made you halt in your step, "Are you trying to kill yourself, brat?"

You could recongnize that rude voice anywhere. You look up to the large form now blocking your way, and quickly noticing the dark umbrella covering your head, "Kuna?"

He scoffs and let out an irritated sound, "Who else?"

Suprise and something warm flits through your body, your eyebrows raising, "What are you doing here? I thought you were busy all day today?"

Your mind recalls his blatant reminder that he couldn't come see you today because he had some school shit to do. Hence why you didn't call him to pick you up which he usally does. Because despite his semi aggressive personality, he does take his studies seriously so you didn't want to disturb him.

And Sukuna was busy, unbearably so. Not that he would admit it, he loved spending time with you thats why he chose to spend the entire day to do his papers and essays due this week was so there would be no interruptions during your time together - which was another thing he would never admit to you- and he could just focus on you.*simp

But when he saw the weather forecast and knowing your bad habit of always forgetting to bring an umbrella, he was already out the door with his keys in hand.

He was right to trust his gut cause here you are almost soaking wet, like a stray kitten left out in the street. Not mention your clothes that were now almost translucent.

It makes him grit his teeth, no one else should see you this way other than him. He holds out the umbrella to you. "Hold this."

You take it without question and hold it above the both of you as Sukuna removes his coat and puts it over your wet clothes. The annoyed look still plastered on his face as he keeps grumbling under his breath of how much of a spoiled brat you are.

It makes you grin cheekily. Other people might take Sukuna's surly personality the wrong way but you knew better. You spoke fluent in Sukuna Itadori.

And you knew, regardless of his complaints and rumblings, he cared. He cared so much even if he wouldn't admit to you or to himself. But you felt it every second you're together.

"Watcha smilin about, woman?" He grouses, annoyed, his eyes locking in on your smile, the type of smile that makes his pathetic heart stumble.

You shake your head still grinning innocently, "Nothing."

He glares at you, not believeing you for a second, but he can roast you about that later. Right now he just want to get you home to make sure you don't come down with a cold or a fever.

With a shake of his head, he takes the umbrella from you and starts walking you to his car. He tries to be subtle about it, but you didn't miss the way the umbrella tilted more on your side getting his right arm soaked from the rain.

"Kuna, your-"

"Leave it."

"Are you sure?"

"Im fine, brat."

You bit back a grin, his words were so jarring yet with no real bite behind them. It could be his jacket that envelops your entire frame and his comforting scent emitting from it, but you feel so warm and cherished. Only Sukuna can be so grumpy yet somehow affectionate.

The car finally comes to view and he ushers you into the passenger seat, placing a practiced hand on the car door frame as you sat down.

You bumped your head into it once but the grimaced you wore is forever seared into Sukunas brain. He realized then and there that he didn't want you in any form of pain, not that you'd ever know when he called you a clumsy idiot as you rubbed your sore head.

He drove extra slow that day.

Plus he stared at that door frame for a hot minute like it was his biggest enemy when he got home.

The moment you got inside his apartment, he immediately demands you get into the shower. His voice holding no room argument.

You comply without complaints of course. After a warm shower, you change into his baggy shirts and make your way to the kitchen when you hear the kettle boiling, and surely enough he has your favorite tea ready in the favorite mug that you bought when you first started dating.

"Oi, your hair's still wet." He notes grimly by the kitchen counter, crossing his arms in displeasure. Though you don't miss the way his eyes flits across your figure in his shirt apprciatively.

You wave him off, grabbing the mug off the counter and breathing in the soothing scent of the tea, a content smile on your lips, "It'll dry off on its own, Kuna."

He tsks at your carelessness and disappears to the bedroom, he comes back a few moments later with a towel and hair dryer. "Sit on the damn sofa"

You gaze at him with exasperated affection. If only people could see through his rough exterior and notice how much this man dotes on you.

Finding no reason to argue, you plop down on the sofa with your legs crossed and he finds his place behind you, fluffy towel in hand.

Gazing down in the mug in your hands, you smile secretly to yourself. Your boyfriend may not be the most expressive when it comes to declarations of love, but you didn't need words. His actions spoke more than any kind of heart trembling confession or lovesick poem.

And you felt everything he would never admit outloud in the way his rough, calloused hands are so uncharacteristically gentle as he weaves through your hair with the towel. Handling you like you were some precious china.

You clasps your hands over his, making him stop. You turn your head and look up at his questioning gaze. Smiling softly, your kiss one of his palms. "Thank you for always taking care of me, Kuna."

His eyes widen slightly before his mask of nonchalance returns, huffing,"Dunno what yer talkin about."

"You know exactly what Im talking about." You grin.

He rolls his eyes feigning irritation in order to hide the small smile tugging in the corner of his lips, "Don't get too used to it."

But he did want you to get used to it. Needed you to need him. This way maybe you'll ignore how shitty he is at emotions or how he can't do all the lovey-dovey stuff that makes you swoon in those crappy rom-coms you're always watching. He'll never hold a boombox over his head outside your window.

"Too late." You say, snuggling your cheek into his palm.

Sukuna falters a bit.

He's a confident man, women would beg for just a single glance from him despite his abrasive nature, it was all part of what Gojo called his charm -and once again he'd never admit it to you- but your words eases the insecurities he didn't realize were there. He grumbles under his breath somewhere along the lines of you better not taking that back.

You laugh at his mumbling, the sound like music to his ears, "Oh, Kuna."

[szarina]

📌 day twenty-one: sex pollen + nanami kento

with every step, the world seems to spin more around him.

he needs to have the treatment of whatever he was feeling. the weather wasn't hot that day as the weather forecast had predicted but why was his clothes feels warmer around him and why does his heart beat seems to run a mile and sweat trickling down his forehead.

the mark behind his palm, just above the knuckles is a splotchy tint of pink similar to a stain of spilled wine. extending to his arm that is hidden by his shirt, his silver watch glinting in the light. there's also the unmistakable heat pooling in his stomach. one that he's familiar with. it was beginning to bother him at this point.

“nanami?” a voice called out to him and it was an angel's voice he must be hearing. it could be and it belongs to you.

why you must appear at this time. looking so regal and ethereal and looking like you're a sculpture of a greek artist that had come to life. the light from the sunny weather outside glares at you and it place you on the spot with the light acting like halo above your head. you must be angel and before he can control his actions. he crashes his lips into yours.

groping whatever skin he can touch and reach. reveling in the softness and squishiness of your flesh that feels like clay for him to mold and smooth against his touch.

he was tainted with lust that he didn't think of the aftermath and what's little of self control went to you. you were a little bit shocked at what just happened and nanami was already apologizing. his cheeks flushed like he had been drinking.

“i'm sorry. i didn't i was thinking.” he says but his words are contradiction to his actions. he was still glued to you. hands roaming all over your supple body. “i just need you.” it was the influence of the curse that was talking but it was real. part of it was coming from him. the whole thing.

the heady scent of your perfume mixing with your won sends him teetering over the edge and all he wants is to bite you and taste you on his tongue.

the blonde got you trapped in his grip. “i'm sorry. i promise i'll make it up to you.” he says in between groans and he's already lifting you up. spreading your legs to place himself between them. you have no choice in this but to take what he's about to give.

despite the neediness growing in his pants. arousal evident with the painful bulge. he made sure to kiss you. savor the open mouthed kisses that leaves you gasping and mewling for him. “fucking beautiful.” he curses under his breath. tugging down at your pants and revealing the mound of your fat cunt.

it only took him a quick zip of his pants and it's pooling in his knees. pulling down his boxers. his cock springing free. leaking with beads of cum. awaiting for the relief that was supposed to ease it.

“just bare with me.” he whispers. pulling you into a kiss. repeatedly tapping the tip of his cock to your clothed panties before pushing them aside to accommodate his length that is being painful as the minute goes by. a groan escaped his lips. the strands of blonde hair sticking in sweat to his forehead.

“ssh.” he shushes you as he slowly puts his hardened length to your awaiting heat. “you're so good around me baby.” rubbing soft circles to your soft thighs to distract you from the pain of his cock intruding your cunt.

he kissed your round cheeks again and again and then to your lips before delving his tongue past beyond your lip and then his tongue is exploring whatever part he can touch before sucking your tongue. leaving you drooling and lewdly moaning at his ministrations.

he grinds his pelvis against hers. his cock rubbing all over her sweet spot and that made his cock throb and pulse. he's not going to last and with a groan. his lips still attached to your mouth he cummed. spilling his seed and painting your walls white with his spent. a pleasurable relief sending shivers up his spine.

it was only temporary, the effects of the curse that hit him hasn't fully gone down and added by the addicting taste of you and your body being made for him. he won't be calming any time soon.

by the time that you both are covered in each other's arousal you were still both fucking each other's brain out and nanami made sure after this, he will pamper you. spoil you after this.

[mbbmz]

Pavlov’s Bell

ღ pairing: Hanemiya Kazutora x fem!reader

ღ warnings: not proofread, oral sex (fem!receiving), accidental conditioning, implied piv sex

ღ a/n: Had this idea for months now and finally decided to write it. Kazutora my favorite yearner. It’s currently 3am for me so I might’ve done some mistakes, sorry in advance and don’t hesitate to let me know.

NSFW under the cut

You loved when Kazutora went down on you. You were only human after all.

It was always eager, a bit messy, and deeply passionate. The kind of head that had you wrapping your legs around his head.

Switching between slow, languid stripes of his tongue and quick flicks against your clit, his lips sucking greedily as you felt the pleasure build up.

Ding.

Sometimes you had to be quick. A small moment before you both left for work, his hands shakily gripping your thighs as he moaned against your dripping pussy, snatching a whimper out of you.

Ding.

Sometimes you had all the time in the world, gripping his hair as he slowly savored the taste of you, leaking on his tongue. He’d look at you before burying his face deeper between your shaking thighs, bruised with hickeys from the night before, and the night before…

Ding.

- "Kazutora, you can just take out this box and go home, she’s waiting for you." Chifuyu raised his chin toward your silhouette waiting outside the boutique.

- "You sure? I still have to-"

-"Tss…" He flicked the taller man’s forehead, an almost disappointed look on his face. "Never keep a lady waiting, I thought you knew that."

Kazutora sighed, rubbing his forehead while glaring at his boss, who was more of a friend than a real boss, to be honest.

- "Aight, if you say so…"

He quickly stacked the last box and removed his apron, eager to just go home with you.

You took off your eyes from your phone as you heard steps behind you, a small smile already making its way to your face. You turned to look at him.

- "Hey handsome, need a ride?" You teased, hands already wrapping around his waist. He breathed out a small chuckle at your joke.

- "You don’t drive." He stated bluntly, the faintest of smiles on his lips.

- "I could if you’d let me…"

- "I am not letting you drive my bike." His tone was teasing, with a hint of apprehension from just thinking about you driving.

You shot him a playful glare, wrapping your arms tighter around him. Something you started to do recently, since he got used to your affection in public. You swore you’ve seen Chifuyu give him a thumbs up behind the shop window.

- "Anyways, I was just going home and thought… maybe we could go home together."

- "You just didn’t want to walk."

You sighed, burying your face in his chest.

- "Hm… You smell like… Rabbit and cat food."

He looked at you, a bit confused for a moment, before laughing softly, a small embarrassed blush on his face.

- "I’ll take a shower when we get home…" He muttered, tilting his head.

Ding.

Your breath hitched, a slight pause in your conversation. His eyes landed back on you.

- "You okay?.."

His voice was a bit softer now. You nodded, trying to keep your mind clear, away from the feeling of warmth low in your stomach.

- "Yeah… Tired… Work…" You simply answered, your embrace loosening. "Let’s go?"

You tried to think about something else during the ride. Your arms around his waist, the loud sound of the bike, the strong gust of wind slipping through the crack of your helmet… Nothing worked. Every second was torture, trying not to think about the way you wanted him right now, touching you.

The ride was short, your apartment not too far from the pet shop, which you thanked the gods for as you couldn’t handle any more of this situation.

You slumped on the couch, waiting for him to be done with his much needed shower. No amount of dumb TV shows or weather forecast was enough to untangle the knot in your lower belly.

- "Hey, you’ve been off for a while." You heard his voice, coming from behind the couch. He sat beside you, almost trying to make himself smaller. "Did I… do something?.."

Your heart clenched, a wave of guilt hitting you. You shifted closer, running a hand through his damp hair, now smelling like your favorite soap. His.

- "Of course not… I’m… just a bit… stressed out, lately…"

It was vague, and not exactly a lie. You’ve been tense lately, but not for the reasons he might think off. That’s what scared you. Something so stupid even he would laugh at.

There was a small silence, filled with only the distant voices of the movie playing in the background.

- "Is it… something I can help with?.." He whispered, hand hesitantly resting on your thigh.

You didn’t miss the slight tremor of anticipation coursing his body. Yours too.

- "You’re really a perv, Tora…" You muttered, thighs instinctively parting.

He knew that nickname, the one that usually came out in a sultry voice, or a shaky one, or both at the same time.

- "Hm… I read that orgasms are good for mental health…" He whispered, voice already shaky with excitement.

He stood up, before dropping to his knees in front of you.

- "Mine or yours?"

- "Both."

He unbuttoned your pants, hands slipping beneath the waistband to leave you in your panties. He was never really patient when it came to clothes.

Your hand slipped in his hair to softly grip the wet strands, leaning back against the couch to give him more access. He was already eagerly mouthing at you thighs, leaving a trail of red marks along his way. His lips stopped at the wet patch on your panties.

- "Damn, you’re… really wet tonight-"

- "Don’t just say that!"

But as always, his eyes were filled with nothing but eagerness and impatience. He traced your folds over your soaked panties with two fingers, making your breath hitch. He teased you a bit before simply yanking off the piece of fabric. From there, he dove right in.

Ding.

- "Fuck…" You moaned, while his tongue was messily swiping over your heat, trembling hands keeping your thighs apart.

After years of dating, years of him being obsessed with going down on you, he was able to find every spot that made you tick. Each flicks of his tongue brought you closer to the edge.

Ding.

- "T-Tora!!"

His name came out louder than expected, thighs tightening like a vice around his head as you bit your lower lip in overwhelming pleasure.

- "mmph… Please just… lemme make you come…"

His voice sent vibrations all the way through your folds, making you clench around nothing.

Ding.

You were close, so unbearably close. Your free hand came to rest over your mouth, your hips twitching as your body started to chase that high on its own.

He slipped a finger inside, curling upward to put pressure on your sweet spot, a harsh suck on your clit, and that did it.

Your soft walls tightened hard around his finger, every sensitive part of you pulsing from the stimulation. Your orgasm came out in a muffled cry, your legs starting to feel numb.

You closed your legs as soon as he moved away from your throbbing pussy, trying to soothe your skin from the intensity of it.

- "Fuck… That… That was awesome…" He mumbled against the skin of your thigh, lazily kissing it.

After coming down from your high, you didn’t fail to notice the hard tent already formed in his sweatpants.

The bed was warm, your skin slick from one too many climaxes. As he laid breathless against your chest, your eyes landed on his earring. You reached for it, swinging it around.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Your thighs clenched.

- "What are you doin’?.."

- "I’m gonna need you to stop wearing that."

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Who wears the pants. || husband!John Price

[MASTERLIST]

Rating: M Words: 3.4K without the extra!! (this one got away from me, I'm sorry.) Pairing: husband!John x wife!reader CW: quick smut!, yelling mentioned, slightly dubcon (if you squint), john got angry and jealous Tags: you/your pronouns, afab!reader, smut, fingering-ish, slight exhibitionism, love bites and marks, established relationship, jealous!john price, anger mentioned, ghost's stirring the pot. Summary: John is embarrassed of the fact you 'wear the pants' in your relationship... But only after the lads come to stay over and a snarky comment from Simon, does he decide to show you what's what. a/n: my first attempt at writing smut that I wanted to post... Also Ghost/Simon is a dick in this one...

John simultaneously is and is not ashamed to say how much he loves you. 

Of course, he loves you to bits, finds you the most stunning woman he’s ever seen, and would kill and die for you in a heartbeat. His love was the epitome of “If I ever were to lose you, I'd surely lose myself.”

However, he would never risk introducing you to his teammates. Not if he can avoid it. And not just because he cares about you and wants to keep you away from prying eyes, safe and sound in your family home…

More like… they don’t need to know how John purrs when you scratch his beard right beneath his chin and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. They don’t need to see how his pupils almost morph into hearts equally if he sees you in one of his shirts, or in your work clothes, or in joggers and a sweaty t-shirt, or a sexy little number, or nude…

And they especially don’t need to know that their tough-as-nails Captain figuratively rolls over and bares his neck in submission when in the presence of his wife… Or that your voice is like a goddamn foghorn making him genuinely quake in a way he hasn’t since he was a boy at Sandhurst, getting yelled at by drill sergeants… 

He hasn’t left the toilet seat up in 12 years. Hasn’t tracked mud into your shared home (whose floors you had just mopped!) in 10. Hasn’t eaten the last of your snacks or used the last of the tea bags without replacing it in 6. 

There is no weaponized incompetence in your home because you know John is not incompetent and you will not allow him to feign being it to make you his maid. You take care of him and your home, and you refuse to let him disrespect you in any way… And he knows better than to try.

His teammates have no idea how hopelessly in love he is with you. With the way you seize control from him in a way he allows no one else to. Not his soldiers, not the rest of his family. He’s been the ‘man’ of the house in all aspects for as long as he can remember… But that stops the moment he crosses the threshold of the front door, hangs his coat and his gear in the hall closet, and pads through the home in search of you. 

He always finds you busying yourself with something or other and you beckon him close like a puppy, with a pat on the chair next to yours as you work at the dining table, or a come hither motion of the fingers as you water the plants, or reach your arms out for a hug as you stand atop a ladder halfway through repainting the accent wall in the living room. He always hugs and burrows himself in you, inhaling your scent, basking in your warmth, leaving kisses and touches in every inch of exposed skin.

He’s not embarrassed of you, he’ll gladly shout out to the world about his love for you. But he’s embarrassed by how he acts around you. Soap and Gaz would tell him he’s “whipped” if they ever knew what you do to him. So he doesn’t want them to meet you.

But he doesn’t have a choice. December 23rd, at 11 P.M., he and the lads have just touched down from a mission. The weather forecast speaks of a rainstorm and severe weather warnings extending right over Christmas… And John knows what he must do.

So disgruntled, your husband walks off to his office and calls you. In a low tone of voice, almost hushed, because he woke you up, he grumbles about the storm, about how Soap won’t be able to drive up to Scotland for Christmas, that Gaz can probably risk driving to Birmingham, but it’s still pretty unsafe, and that Ghost, as usual, was going to lock himself in his quarters on base and drink himself until he passes out…

You don’t need to be told again. You spring into action immediately. You simply reply that you’re getting up and getting the guest rooms ready, asking if one of the lads would mind getting the pull-out sofa in John’s study, and telling John to drive safe, that the roads are dangerous with the rain… 

It’s midnight when you hear the front door opening, and the hall light turns on, flooding the space with a bright warm-toned yellow-ish light. “Shoes off, you lot. The missus doesn’t want water or mud inside.” He demands in a gruff tone.

As they go about unzipping coats and undoing their muddy boots, you can hear John still chastising them. “I’ll stress again: I want you on your best behaviour. No work talk, no cursing, no disrespect. The missus is doin’ you a favour.” He adds as if the poor lads are children who cannot be trusted to be polite.

Unbeknownst to you, he had already spent the whole drive over from base warning them about picking up after themselves, about being respectful to you, about putting the toilet seat down, about making their beds… reaming them out as if they were wild animals who had never once been inside a house and would break and dirty up everything they touch.

You move to stand at the step that separates the lowered entryway from the sitting room, silently observing them, arms crossed as you lean your shoulder against the wall, wearing a robe and your house slippers as you look at them.

They’re all taller than you, moving surprisingly efficiently and quietly, trying not to disturb the peaceful home too much. They’re dripping wet, probably from rushing from the car in the driveway up to the front stoop. A set of four backpacks or duffle bags are on the floor by the door, their clothes for the days they’ll spend here inside.

“Give them a break, Jonathan, you can keep bossing them around in the morning, love.” You quip and you immediately feel all their backs stiffen, four pairs of eyes glued to you.

“Hi, lovie…” John says, already crossing the small entryway to wrap his arms around your waist, dropping a deep open-mouthed kiss to your awaiting lips. Your hand touches his face, caressing his cheek over his mutton chops.

“Steamin’ Jesus, the Captain’s got taste…” You hear a voice murmur, followed by a sharp ‘ow, what was that fo’?’ which causes both you and John to look at the other soldiers. The offending man, the shortest, with a mohawk, rubs at his arm, which seems to indicate the tallest one on his left side smacked him into shutting his mouth.

You don’t need to be told who’s who to realize that it was ‘Ghost’ who smacked ‘Soap’, while ‘Gaz’ stands on Soap’s other side and shoots John an apologetic look. He told you everything about them, without ever revealing names or pictures, for you to know more about them than you should. John himself as his lips pressed together, his mouth nearly disappearing behind his mustache, as he glares at the lads (aka Soap) for making comments about you.

You quickly approach the three men. “You must be the lads my husband talks so much about!” You say with a chuckle. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the men responsible for bringing my John home in one piece every time…” You tell them gratefully while shaking each of their hands with two of your own, your eyes shining a bit.

“Please, come in!” You gesture behind you into the home as you flick the sitting room lights on. “John, will you show them their rooms while I put the kettle on?” You ask your husband as you slink into the kitchen. 

A few muffled footsteps, created by socked feet, are heard as they walk inside, with John directing the boys to the different bedrooms (and study), and you hear a gruff voice murmur something about taking the pull-out sofa. You assume it’s Ghost.

Your husband then comes to hug you around the waist as you wait for the water to boil, dropping kisses to your temple and cheek, doting on you while his big, calloused hands squeeze at every part of you, your thighs, especially, but your tummy as well, along with gentle words. “I missed you so much, lovie…” “Thank you for doing this…” “You know, I can never sleep right without you in my arms…” “Just missed you so much…”

Five minutes later, you hear their steps coming back as you’re finishing pouring the water into a few separate mugs. Your husband dislodges his arms from around you. He doesn’t need the others to see he’s so crazy about you. 

“Your home is beautiful, Mrs. Price.” Gaz says as you set the tea mugs, the sugar, and the milk within their reach on the island counter. He takes one of the mugs and tops it off with some milk. The way the young boy calls you ‘Mrs. Price’ has nothing if not respect dripping from it. 

It makes you tingle on the inside, even after so many years, the realization that you’re John’s wife, John’s choice, John’s priority. Your husband preens himself a bit when he catches the look in your eye. He loves that you’re his, of course, but loves it even more that you like being his.

“Thank you, Gaz. I’m glad you like it.” You remark with a smile as you sip your own tea. Herbal, different from theirs, so you can resume your sleep which John interrupted with his phone call. 

“Aye, real cosy!” Soap quips from beside him as he slides up to a stool on the island. He doesn’t drink tea, so you didn’t prepare any, per John’s request.

“I hope the beds are to your liking… I kinda made them in a hurry.” You quip, which causes the boys, and your husband, to laugh, as they seat themselves across from you, in the bar stools. You barely even noticed Ghost taking the last cuppa and sliding up next to Johnny, his mask rolled up just enough to allow him to drink.

“We’re soldiers, ma’am, we’ll sleep anywhere,” Gaz told you, ever polite, with a sweet smile on his lips. John has told you all about Gaz, his protegé, of sorts, a respectful lad, the youngest, but one that has proved himself to be useful.

Your eyes flitter over to John for a moment, watching as he drinks his tea, two fingers laced through the handle of his navy blue mug, rather than around him, his behind leaning back on the counter beside you. While doing that, however, you miss the glances the lads exchange with each other, and then to you.

“As true as that might be…” You trail off after sipping your tea and look back at the soldiers again. “I still hope you have some good rest. And, I’m sorry about the pull-out sofa… it’s a bit old, came from John’s old apartment… Has gotta be a decade old now.” You quip as you look toward Ghost.

“It’s alright. I’ll sleep fine.” Ghost says. “Like Gaz said, we can sleep wherever.” He adds.

Soap nods along. “Anything’s better than sleeping on the ground with your rifle between your legs and your jacket folded up to serve as an eyemask.” He adds and laughs.

“Johnny.” Your husband calls out, chastising him. “No work talk.”

“Aw, c’mon, Captain, that hardly counts as work talk.” He retorts with a little boyish grin.

“Them’s the rules. No bloody talk about service.” John insists.

“John.” You scold him, and your husband stiffens next to you, his eyes flittering over to you, eyebrows scrunched and his eyes softened as he meets your eye… nothing short of a puppy.

It was stronger than John at this point, to respond to your tone of voice with nothing but a baring of his neck, not a baring of his teeth like he would with anyone else. The boys all noticed it, the way his shoulders sagged and his eyes looked at you with utter devotion.

“Let the boys talk about work. As long as it’s nothin’ too gory or confidential…” You trail off. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy ‘earing all the stories they have to tell about you at work... Right, lads?” You ask as you look at them again.

“Oh, we’ve got stories alright.” Soap says with a giggle and a wagging of his brows, which causes Gaz and Ghost to snicker under his breath.

“Well, then, regale me with them during Christmas dinner, ye?” You ask them, to which they nod along with smiles. You could swear even Ghost had one in the corner of his scarred lips.

After a bit more small talk, you kissed John goodnight, while he told you he’d stay downstairs and talk with the lads a little longer, so you waved at them while trekking your way upstairs, the boys once more thanking you for the hospitality.

The moment John’s trained ears honed into the fact the bedroom door has closed, he finishes his tea and glares at the lads.

“Don’t be bloody flirtin’ with my wife.” He tells Soap directly, though his comment extends to Gaz and Ghost as well, which is why he glances to both sides at the other two.

“Sir?” Gaz asks while blinking.

“You ‘eard me, Garrick.” He adds and points a finger at the young Sergeant. 

“We’re not flirtin’, sir.” Soap tries to defend himself.

“Aw, that’s rich that there, MacTavish, yeah.” Your husband says bluntly.

“Weren’t flirting.” Ghost retorts as he looks at John. “I was more so interested in the way she has your balls in her little purse.” He adds.

Both Soap and Gaz turn to look at Ghost with eyes so wide you’d think he just tried to kill the Captain directly… and he might as well have, the way John choked on nothing and started coughing up a lung.

The other two are trying to muffle their chuckles and hide their smirks as Simon continues. “Don’t give me that look, boss. We all saw it. Pretty thing might as well be walking you around on a lead.”

“Nonsense.” John says defensively as he snatches the cups of tea from the island and turns to deposit them all in the kitchen sink. He starts washing them quickly, shoulders stiffened.

“Bunk down.” John demands. “We’ve got plenty to do tomorrow.” He adds. The light screeching of bar stools being pulled back and pushed back into place is heard, as the boys vacate the kitchen with curt ‘Goodnight, sir’ murmured before they headed upstairs as well.

“Balls in her bloody purse, my arse.” John grumbles under his voice as he finishes doing the dishes, drying his hands, and then setting them on the island across from him, head hung in shame.

He knows Simon’s right. Hell, he revels in the fact you’ve got metaphorical balls of steel to confront him, to steal control right from under him, to wear the pants in the relationship. Lord knows it took him years to meet a woman who could not only keep up with him but put him in his place…

So why does it embarrass him so to hear them snicker at that fact? Why does it annoy him to look weak for you in front of his men? Why does it anger him that he loves to be weak for you?

Those are the thoughts in his head as he turns off the sitting room and kitchen lights and marches upstairs... And as he approaches your bedside in the dark, pulling the covers out from atop of you, exposing your body to him.

Under that robe you came to welcome them in, you were only wearing one of his t-shirts and no pants whatsoever, which he had peeped by the way your bare legs had shown through the slit between the two sides of the fabric whenever you walked.

“John?” You ask him in surprise, his breath is a bit ragged, more so huffing like a bull through his nose, as he grabs you and pulls you up into his arms, only to drop you on the bed further in the middle of the bed.

The giggle that escaped you when he did so annoyed him even more. He’s angry, pissed that he had been humiliated in front of his men, that you had humiliated him by merely existing and going about your relationship with him the way you always did…

So why are you giggling? Is he really that weak for you that you’ve grown to not fear his anger?

He grabs the hem of his shirt and yanks it up and over your head, tossing it to the side before he attacks your neck with nothing but kisses and bites, his hands touching your naked body, rough skin dragging over every inch of the softness he has left on display.

“John!” You giggle some more as he keeps touching and kissing you, his body weighing down on yours, your legs parted to accommodate him. “We can’t… We have guests!” You try to negotiate as his fingers dig into the pudge of your thighs and slide around to grip a greedy handful of your ass.

You still haven’t spotted the anger in him… And, as such, your playful attempts at negotiating postponing sex only annoy him more. You’re still trying to call the shots…

His left hand wraps around your face, quieting you with a strong palm holding your lips, his fingers digging into your jaw on either side. “You’re mine.” That’s all he says as his fingers continue exploring your body.

“You think you can embarrass me like that in front of the blokes?” He asks you in a whisper as his teeth catch your earlobe and suck and bite at it. “Hm?” He beckons, his tone aggressive. “Make me look like a big girl’s blouse in front of my subordinates?” He continues.

A shiver runs down your spine as his free hand wraps around the waistband of your underwear and yanks it off, down your legs, tossing them to a random spot, barely giving you time to react before his fingers drag up your thigh.

“You think you’re oh-so-box-clever, innit?” He asks you as his fingers slowly drag across your slit, finding your clit effortlessly, years of practice aiding in his torturing of you. You find yourself moaning and sighing against his hand, hips stuttering a bit, your feet looking for a perch at the edge of the bed so you can rub yourself into his hand.

“Walking around in just my shirt and those knickers and stupid bloody robe, making my boys see how lucky I am to have you, make them jealous… Only to embarrass me, make me look weak…” He trails off and tuts loudly, his tongue clicking disdainfully.

The things he’s saying make no sense to you. You didn’t try to seduce his friends, and you sure as hell didn’t try to embarrass him! It’s just the way you always act around him, around the house. He’s never complained, in fact, he’s praised you plenty of times for being ‘perfect’ for him… So where did this change of his come from?

Frankly, you don’t know, but you don’t care… It has been weeks since you were last together, sure, but you know that’s not the main reason why you’re loving this. The unbridled rage in his voice, combined with the way his experienced fingers touch your body, is making you feel things John’s never made you feel before. Your mind is clear of nothing if not a pang of hunger for him, your hands gently pawing at his shoulders atop his charcoal grey t-shirt, soft whimpers muffled by the hard palm pressing you into silence, into submission.

“I’m afraid I’ve let you gone unchecked for too long, lovie...” He grunts in your ear as his fingers draw circles against your clit, the rough pads catching at the throbbing bud, making you whine and whimper, your whole body shuddering against him. “I’m going to fix that attitude of yours...” He clicks his tongue again, sounding all the more annoyed.

“Now you’re going to be good f’r me…” He says as he uncovers your mouth, his hand, wet with saliva, slipping from atop your mouth to grab your wrists and pin them above your head, flush to the mattress. “And make the lads know exactly who’s in charge in here. Clear their doubts...”

[MASTERLIST]

extra: 500 words-ish

The next morning, you wake up before John, as usually tends to happen when he comes back from a mission. The silence and lack of stress, the warmth of you in his arms, the cosy atmosphere of the house… It’s all the perfect sedative to keep him as good as dead for many, many hours. You slip out of his embrace and check the clock… it was just past 9 A.M. You pad quietly to the hall bathroom after fishing out a change of clothes from the wardrobe, and rinse off the sweat from the night before, as well as the dried slick and cum between your thighs. You’re still unstable on your feet, your thighs and the space between them deliciously sore, your body covered in marks of the night you spent in your husband’s arms… You feel like you’re floating as you drift downstairs and into the kitchen…  “Fuckin’ hell!” You jump, startled. In your kitchen, pouring himself a cup of tea is Ghost… You think. The height seems about right, though you didn’t expect a broad-shoulder, bare-chested blond in your kitchen. “Good morning.” You say softly as you shuffle inside, hearing him return that same greeting in a way-too-deep of a voice, standard of man who’s just woken up. “Go put a shirt on, this isn’t the beach.” You scold him, as you open the fridge, looking for the eggs. Your voice is as fierce as it usually tends to be with John. When he doesn’t reply, you look over at him, noticing his mask is missing. You assume John scolded him about it, how you’d likely be startled by seeing a masked man in the night. The look in Ghost’s eyes is unreadable, stern, unwavering, and eerily calm, as if he’s seeing through you. They flit over you, up and down, with a certain glint you can’t quite decipher. You straighten your back in the face of his look, portraying nothing if not confidence. Ghost leans against the counter, one hand holding his tea cup and sipping from it, the other resting on the counter to support his weight, before one of his eyebrows shoots up. “Nice night, huh?” He asks you and, immediately, you feel your entire confidence bleed out of you, your eyes widening like saucers. Of course he heard it… You’re sure all the lads heard you, especially considering John and you started right as they had gotten to their respective rooms to sleep, all of which were located in the same hallway as the master bedroom… It’d surprise you if they hadn’t… Hell, it’d surprise you if the neighbors across the way didn’t! The way John had you last night, crying out his name at the top of his lungs and making you apologise repeatedly for something you didn’t even do (on purpose) definitely leaked through the walls… Just like the shame you currently feel leaks through your pores. You turn away to fix your eyes on the fridge, too embarrassed to face him again after realizing he knows. Your brain rushes to find something to distract you, to hide what you feel… “Are you hungry?” You end up asking softly.

[gladiator-v]

PPT WMI AU One Shot: Sickly (WIP) PART 1

Tws/Cws: Fainting

Note: Chris (He/Him) is the player/one of my ppt OCs! He has his own lore that I have yet to flesh out/illustrate.

Firstly! I'll preface this by saying I typically only write for myself, so if any of this reads kinda elementary, I am so sorry, lol. I also don't share my writing pretty much at all, so I'll just be in the corner with my hands over my eyes XD

All the text is from my notes app. It's for context. Happy reading!

Part 1 (here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

It's a bright, humid day out. Doey and Kissy had just turned the other kids lose for a quick recess before their afternoon naps. They were able to get the TV working long enough earlier in the morning to hear the weather forecast. They'll be getting some much needed rain showers for the next couple of days.

Doey has gone to his usual spot for a bit of rest before continuing with his usual daily activities. No one has seen him for a while, so DogDay offered to go and check on him.

"Hey! Chris told me you were still out here. I just wanted ta check on ya." DogDay says as he sits down beside Doey on the ground.

Doey sighs. How could he not? Being the sole provider and protector of the toys back at the Safe Haven was who he was. Who he still is. Just because they're somwhere else now doesn't mean there aren't duties to attend to.

Sure, having Chris around is nice, but he's always managed on is own. Things may get stressful every now and then, but there's nothing he can't do. He’s Doey.

"I know that, DogDay. But- they still need me. And I have to be there for them."

"You're missing my point, big guy.. You're still operating as if you're a one man show! Kissy and Huggy barely get to help you do anything because you've already done it! You did and still do everyone's job. Poppy assigned us all roles so no one would have to work like that."

*Isn't that what I was made to do?* Doey thinks internally. To fulfill multiple assigned roles? Yes, of course he was. And he dare not lose sight of that. Not then and not now.

"I promise it’s really no big deal, DogDay. Anyway, we should be heading back. The rain.. looks like… it's-" Doey hums as he gets up. He begins to stumble, Dogday quickly noticing.

[w2soneshots]

could you do something like the 24hr karting race and shes a driver for senor frogs, she finishes her stint and then like the new video they couldnt find the bed in the rv or whatever so they go into quadrants and theres only one bed and both her and harry need sleep si they have to share?? sorry im so bad at explaining

We’ll have to share -W2S

words: 1.5k+

warnings: unestablished relationship, spooning.

summary: while filming the annual señor frogs 24 hour go cart race you and Harry end up having to share a bed, but nether of you mind since your both majorly crushing on the other.

notes: hello love!🤗 I decided to write this asap even though I have so many requests but I wanted to get this out before everyone gets over the señor frogs high (If you get what I’m saying?). Anyways, enjoy!!💓🏎️

Today I'm driving for señor frogs in the annual twenty four hour go cart race. I woke up early this morning, took a quick shower, got ready, packed a small bag and then set off. It took almost two hours to get to Buckmoore Park and I arrived just after ten, ready for the practice that starts at ten thirty.

I've know the boys for years and are good friends with them all. After they dropped Callux from the team they asked if I would participate this year and after seeing how fun it looked last year I couldn't say no. I've done lots of practice in the last few weeks and I'm actually pretty good. I used to race with my friends for fun when I was younger but that's about all the experience I've had.

When I arrived I parked my car then signed in at the front desk. "Hey! You're here!" Chip's voice echoed through the reception. A smile spread across my face. We shared a quick hug then he walked me to our green room.

Harry, Chris, Will and Freezy stood talking. They turned to me as we entered. "Hi guys!" I set my bag down. I glanced at Harry, he smiled softly at me. They all said their "hello's" then we started talking about the plan for the twenty four hours.

Unfortunately the weather forecast wasn't ideal since it was supposed to rain for almost the entire time but that made it more interesting and fun to watch.

We sent Chip and Plum out for the practice and once that was done it was time for the race to begin. We were starting off with Chris. After getting into our suits all of us walked out onto the track. I pulled mine down so that it rested at my waist and I wore a comfortable black tank top underneath.

Once we'd finished doing some interviews the group headed back upstairs onto the balcony to watch as the race began. As soon as the flag was waved Chris raced over to the cart, accidentally kicking another racer on the way. Harry pushed the cart to give him a boost then he drove swiftly off, along with everyone else.

When twelve am hit it was finally my turn. I suited up and grabbed my helmet. I stepped outside onto the deck, Harry just behind me (who'd already done his first stint, just before Plum went out). "Jesus Christ it's hammering it down." I looked out at the soaked and slippery track. He placed his hands on my shoulder, squeezing. "You'll be fine," he reassured me.

I quickly walked down the stairs, taking a deep breath when I got to the bottom. I looked back up at Harry. He put his two thumbs up. I smiled softly, nodding. "I can do this. Let's hope I don't completely embarrass myself." I thought.

"Nervous?" The camera man asked as I waited. "To be honest I'm shitting myself," I replied with a shaky laugh. Plum pulled in and immediately jumped out, he gave me a quick wave as I passed him. I adjusted the seat insert, got in and then drove off.

As soon as I set off I heard Freezy in the earpiece. He was talking about what place I was and how carful I needed to be on the turns. I could barely concentrate since I was focusing on not spinning out and it didn't help that I couldn't really see out of my visor.

Around an hour in I'd gotten used to it and was now much calmer. I hadn't heard anything through the communications for a while then I suddenly heard Harry's voice. He told me that Freezy had gone for a snooze and that he was replacing him.

"That was really good, one minute nine seconds. Try and keep up that time," he said as I finished another lap. The rain was starting to pick up. "It's so fucking slippy!" I felt as though I wasn't in control, the wheels were spinning everywhere. I just desperately didn't want to spin out and let the boys down.

When I was finally told to come in I felt so relieved. I had no idea what place we were or how I'd done. I practically stumbled out, my legs and bum asleep from sitting in the same position for two hours. I pulled my helmet off as I passed Chip.

When I got to the boys I was met with what seemed to be happy faces. "We're fucking second place in class!" Freezy patted my back excitedly. Harry smiled wildly at me. "I told you you'd be fine." I smiled back at him, relieved that I hadn't fucked everything up.

I was completely soaked so I went to get changed into some comfy clothes that I could sleep in. Plum, Will and Chris had already gone to bed and me and Harry were going to do the same as it was now around two in the morning.

We walked together to quadrants bus, since there wasn't a proper bed in the one Chip had rented and they'd kindly said we could sleep in there's. When we got inside, out of the rain we quietly walked down the hall. I turned to look at him, my eyes slightly wider than a minute ago. "Is there only one bed left?"

"Shit. I think so," he replied before looking around to check again. "What are we gonna do?" I whispered. "Uh- you can have it." My brows knitted together. "No, don't be daft. They're pretty big... we could share?" I was really hoping I hadn't just embarrassed myself.

Harry's face turned red, though I couldn't really tell due to the dim lights. "Uh- uhm- yeah. Okay," he stuttered. I smiled slightly. "Come on then. I'm exhausted."

He got in first. It was slightly awkward since the last bed was at the bottom and practically on the floor. I slid in after, both now on our sides, my back facing his front. Turns out they were smaller than they looked.

Evidently Harry didn't know what to do with his hands, they were sort of hovering over my side. I smirked to myself then grabbed his hand, placing it around me my waist. I shuffled into him comfortably. I felt him physically relax. "You sure this is okay?" He asked quietly. "I'm sure."

I've had a massive crush on Harry since a few months ago when we spent the entire night together at a party nether of us wanted to be at. I laughed more than I had in a while that night and I really enjoyed spending time with him.

I was woken up a few hours later by Chip giggling. My eyes fluttered open and a small tired groan escaped from my lips. "You alright there love? Comfy?" He chuckled quietly, as people were still asleep. I was confused then I realised I was still pressed up against Harry.

Harry shuffled behind me, mumbling something and then shooting up. A loud bang was heard as he whacked his head on the roof of the bed. "Ow." He fell back onto the pillow and brought his hand up to rub his head. Chip laughed even more.

We got out and stood up. I sighed before glancing at Harry. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck, he looked slightly uncomfortable. Chip continued to tease us as we walked back to the green room and he immediately told Freezy and Chris that he'd found us asleep together.

"I knew it! You like each other!" Freezy exclaimed, standing up. My eyes widened. "Uh-" "you guessed it," Harry replied, interrupting me. My head snapped over to him. "You like me?" I blurted out. The room fell silent. "Uhm- yeah- yeah I think I do." My face softened. Freezy chuckled with a smirk.

It turns out they wanted Harry to get back in the cart once again, which he wasn't very happy about. But he ended up agreeing and he got back into his suit. I stood next to him on the balcony, both of us leaning our forearms on the barrier as we waited for the signal that it was his turn to go out.

"I like you too. Just so you know." I said, not taking my eyes off the track. "You do?" He turned to me, surprise evident on his face. I looked at him sincerely. "Mhm, ever since that party last month." A smile graced his lips. "So... did you wanna go for lunch or something after this?" He asked. "Are you asking me on a date Mr Lewis?" I teased. He chuckled. I gently nudged his side with my elbow. "I'd really like that."

"Harry! Time to go!" Chip shouted. I glanced at Chip then looked up at Harry, pushing onto my tiptoes and placing a quick kiss on his cheek. "Good luck!" I whispered. He smirked. "I'll see you in a bit." I nodded before patting his chest.

I watched as he quickly walked down the stairs then I turned to go back inside. I stopped as I noticed Freezy through the window. He raised his eyebrows with a mischievous look on his face. I groaned but I didn't really mind that he'd seen mine and Harry's encounter, all I could think about was the date I was going on in a few hours.

[heartysworld]

Racing Hearts // LN4

Lando Norris x Reader

The one time Lando thinks everything is going accordingly to plan,things take turn for the worse.

W.C: 2.5k

MASTERLIST

The sun was just starting to set over the Silverstone Circuit, casting long shadows across the paddock. You stood in the garage, watching Lando as he chatted with his team. It had been a grueling day of making final changes on the car on top of qualifying, and you could see the fatigue in his eyes despite the smile on his face.

"Hey, love," you called out, walking over to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you placed a kiss on the base of his neck. "Ready for tomorrow?"

Lando turned to you, his smile growing wider. "Do you even have to ask me,baby? Home race, lots of pressure, but I'm feeling good."

You nodded, trying to match his enthusiasm, but there was a flicker of worry in your eyes. "Just... be careful out there, okay?"

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "I will, babe. I promise."

You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "I know you will. I just can't help buy worry about you."

Lando kissed the top of your head. "And I appreciate it. But I've got something really special planned if I win tomorrow. Trust me, everything's going to be perfect."

Your curiosity was piqued, but you didn't press him for details. "Alright, I'll hold you to that," you said with a playful smile.

He grinned, giving you a wink. "Just you wait and see."

The morning of the race, the sky was a dark, menacing gray. Rain was forecasted, and the tension in the air was palpable. The pit lane was a hive of activity, with engineers and mechanics rushing around, making final adjustments.

You stood by Lando's side as he donned his helmet, your heart pounding. "Good luck, and please be safe," you whispered, squeezing his hand tightly.

Lando looked at you, his eyes full of determination. "I will, love. I promise."

He pulled you in for a quick kiss, the familiar feel of his lips calming your nerves, if only for a moment. "Stay strong for me, okay?" he murmured against your lips.

You nodded, swallowing hard. "I will. I love you, Lando."

"I love you too," he replied, his voice filled with emotion. "Now go find a good spot to watch me win."

You watched as he climbed into his car, the roar of the engine sending a shiver down your spine. As the race began, you found a spot in the garage where you could see the screens, your eyes glued to the unfolding drama on the track.

Despite the worsening weather, Lando was in the lead. His car seemed to glide over the rain-soaked asphalt, his skill and precision evident with every turn. Your heart soared with every lap he completed, pride swelling within you.

The team cheered him on, the tension in the garage almost unbearable as the laps counted down. You exchanged excited glances with Lando's dad, both of you on edge but hopeful.

But with five laps to go, disaster struck. L Max's car began spinning right behind Lando's, catching both of them in a death spin. You watched in horror as Lando's car spun out of control, slamming into the barrier. Your breath caught in your throat, your hands covering your mouth as you fought back tears.

All you could hear was Lando's engineer trying to get a hold of him on the radio, but he got no response back.

"Lando, are you okay?" his engineer's voice crackled over the radio, but nothing. Seconds felt like hours as you waited, the silence deafening.

Then, finally, you heard Lando's voice, weak and strained and barely comprehensible due to the damage of all of the car's electronics. "Baby, the drawer..." And then, nothing. All eyes fell on you as you trembled with fear. Nothing made sense at that moment.

You felt your knees go weak, and Lando's dad caught you before you could collapse. "He's strong, he'll be okay," he said, his own voice trembling.

You nodded, clinging to that hope. "He has to be."

The drive to the hospital was a blur. Lando's dad was sitting beside you, equally shaken. As soon as you were allowed to see him, you rushed to his room, your heart heavy with fear. The sight of him lying there, sedated, broke your heart.

You sat beside his bed for what felt like hours, holding his hand gently. "Lando, what did you mean?" you whispered, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "What drawer, baby?"

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of his words. Suddenly, it hit you—Lando had been oddly protective of his bedside drawer for the past few weeks. No matter where you went, your shared Monaco apartment, Lando's childhood home, the hotels you were staying at, the moment he saw you near his side of the bed he would go crazy, pulling you as further away from it as possible and finding countless distractions for you.

When you got to your hotel room, you rushed to Lando's drawer, your hands trembling. Inside, at the back right corner, your hands found a velvet box with a beautiful ring and underneath the box,a piece of paper with what seemed to be Lando's proposal speech written on it.

From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew my life was about to change in the most incredible way. Over the past five years, we've shared countless memories, faced numerous challenges, and celebrated countless victories. Each moment with you has been a blessing, and I can't imagine my life without you by my side.

You are my rock, my confidante, and my greatest supporter. Your love and belief in me have given me the strength to push through the toughest times and the courage to chase my dreams. When I'm on the track, I drive not just for myself, but for us, for our future.

Today, as I stand here at my home race, I realize there's no better time or place to take the next step in our journey together than the the one where our story began.

My love, will you marry me? Will you be my partner in life, my teammate in every race, and my forever love? I can't promise you that life will always be easy, but I can promise that I will always love you, stand by you, and fight for our dreams together.

Tears streamed down your face as you read the words, realizing his plan. He had intended to propose if he won the race. With shaking hands, you slipped the ring onto your finger, feeling a mixture of joy and sorrow. "I’ll wear it always, Lando, no matter what" you said, kissing the ring that now laid on your ring finger.

You sank onto the bed, clutching the letter to your chest. "I promise you, Lando. We'll get through this."

The next day, you returned to the hospital. As you entered Lando's room, you found his parents already there with their nacks towards you Your heart raced as the worst passed through your mind.

However, seconds later, them having noticed your presence and moved aside, you were met with the same eyes you've been loving for the past half a decade. Lando sat on the bed, smiling at you as much as his injuries allowed him.

"Lando?" you whispered, stepping closer.

His parents watcjed as Lando, now awake, was looking at you with a weak smile. Tears filled your eyes as you rushed to his side.

"Lando, you’re awake." you sobbed, clutching his hand.

His eyes fell on the ring on your finger, and a smile spread across his face. "You found it." he whispered, his voice hoarse.

"I did," you replied, tears of happiness streaming down your face. "I’ll wear it forever."

Lando squeezed your hand, his eyes shining with love and relief. "I love you, baby."

"I love you too, Lando," you said, leaning in to kiss him gently. "More than anything."

Lando's parents stepped out to give you a moment alone. You sat on the edge of the bed, holding his hand. "You scared me so much," you admitted, your voice trembling.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "I never wanted to put you through that."

"I know," you replied, sniffling. "But we're here now, and that's what matters."

Lando reached up to touch your cheek. "Did you like the ring?"

You laughed softly, the sound mingling with your tears. "It's perfect, just like you. I can't believe you went through all this trouble."

"You're worth it, love." he said softly. "I wanted it to be special. I wanted us to start the next chapter of our lives in the best way possible."

You leaned down, resting your forehead against his. "Every moment with you is special, Lando. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

He kissed you gently, his lips soft against yours. "Neither can I.Neither can I."

As you sat by his side, holding his hand, you knew that despite the challenges, you would face everything together. Your love was stronger than ever, and you were ready for whatever the future held.

MASTERLIST

[meteorologistaustenlonek]

WDEFWeather #News12Weather Friday Evening #BlipCast: Dark skies and heavy weather for parts of the area tonight. More rain/thunder for the weekend. While not cooler at least we'll see less dangerous heat levels soon.

More weather tonight on @WDEFNews12.

[marril96]

Just In Time

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Following a trip, Agatha gets sick. It's up to you to look after her.

Editor: @fruityhahn

The weather was miserable, and so were you.

When the forecast had announced a snowstorm would hit your area the day after, you'd hurried to go on a supply run. Just in case the storm happened to overstay its welcome. If your centuries on this Earth had taught you anything, it was that it was good to be prepared.

Wind had started picking up not long after noon. By the time you'd arrived home, it was snowing like it hadn't been in years. The ride which usually took around twenty minutes had taken over an hour; you could barely see the road ahead.

Living in the middle of nowhere usually had its perks, the most important ones being privacy and freedom from nosy neighbors, but it sucked ass during times like this.

Especially when you were alone.

A couple days back, Agatha had gone on another one of her con jobs. She'd found a coven of witches she'd claimed were powerful and wanted to stock up for a rainy day — or a snowy day, as she'd said. Awfully fitting.

Usually, you'd accompanied her, more for your peace of mind than hers, but this time you weren't in the mood for travel. It was cold outside. The place she'd tracked that coven to was amidst the largest snowstorm in the country. You couldn't bring yourself to leave the warmth of your house to do a con job that would be over in half an hour, once the witches' trust was earned.

Agatha had assured you that she could handle it. She had, after all, been doing this for centuries, long before she'd ever met you. She would be okay. She'd travel to that shithole town, and she would be on the first flight or bus or train back, whichever was available, as soon as the storm had passed.

And here you were now, alone in an empty house, soon to be trapped inside for the unforeseeable future.

As you were grabbing all the bags, hoping against hope they wouldn't rip and spill your stuff all over the windy yard, you made a mental note to call Agatha and let her know that you were okay.

She had done the same after she'd landed at her destination and started working on the witches. This morning she'd sent a quick text to tell you the job was done, and she was taking the first means of transport that was available home.

You hoped coming home to a full fridge and a stocked up potions ingredients cupboard would cheer her up after a long day of travel — from one snowstorm to another.

As you were about to stick the key into the lock, you noticed the door was a jar. Your heckles rose like a porcupine's quills, prickling at the back of your neck. You were sure you'd closed the door on your way out. You were sure you'd locked it.

Tentatively, slowly, you walked inside. Lowering the bags to the floor (and making sure to make as little noise as possible), you summoned your magic. Sparks as bright as daylight engulfed the tips of your fingers. Whoever the mystery intruder was, they were messing with the wrong witch.

The house was dark and cold, exactly as you'd left it this morning. There was no point in lighting the fire when you would be out for almost half a day; you knew that, by the time you'd gone through all the grocery stores, as well as the couple witch shops just out of town, it would be dark out. The fire would have been long dead.

"Hello?" you called out cautiously, wiggling your fingers, the magic coiling between them crackling like freshly lit fire.

A small, weak noise sounded in response, strangely alike to a moan.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you didn't let your guard down. Whoever or whatever was in your house could still pose a threat to your life. A wild animal was no less dangerous than a human — or an unfriendly witch.

As you lingered by the entrance to the living room, your power lighting up the dark space, your eyes fell upon a form spread across the floor.

"Hello?" you repeated, instinctively stiffening and clenching both fists.

Why would someone break into a house, only to fall asleep on the floor? How were they able to step inside in the first place? You and Agatha had made sure to put up protective runes. Nobody, human or witch or anything else resembling a person, should have been able to get in.

Nobody except…

You stepped closer to get a better look at the fallen person. Their jacket was purple, a rich, dark shade that you would recognize anywhere. They wore jeans, and on their feet was a pair of black boots. A halo of thick, dark brown curls spilled around their head.

Blood ran cold in your veins as the realization sat in.

"Agatha!" Dissolving your summoned magic, you instantly ran over to her and kneeled by her side. "Sweetheart?"

She responded with a moan, as small and fragile as the first one. "Y-Y/N…"

Your heart raced, concern spilling over you like a bucket of cold water. "What happened?"

"I-I'm not… feeling well…"

That much you could tell. "Did someone hurt you?"

"No."

You pressed your palm to her forehead, and almost pulled your hand back as if stung. "You're burning up."

You couldn't help releasing a relieved sigh. A fever, you could deal with. Whatever illness she'd picked up, be it the flu or COVID or any other respiratory ailment, would be a walk in the park in comparison to a hex.

"I'm sick," Agatha said, weak, drained.

"I can see that," you replied softly. "Why didn't you call me?"

She took in a breath, two, three. "I did. You didn't pick up."

"What?" You instinctively reached for your pocket, only to find it empty. Fuck. You were in a rush this morning, eager to head out as soon as possible, hoping against hope the storm wouldn't hit early. Shit. "I left my phone at home. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"You should be," Agatha said halfheartedly, just to be snarky. Just to show that she was still herself, despite the predicament she was in.

You rolled your eyes, but decided to give her a pass. Bitchiness was one of the things you loved about her. As annoying as you found it from time to time, it was part of what made her her. You wouldn't change it for the world.

"I had to take a cab," she whined. "The bastard robbed me blind."

"Why didn't you mind control him?"

"Think I didn't try? My purple is… malfunctioning."

Because she was sick.

It was a miracle she'd managed to drag herself inside the house before collapsing.

Your heart swelled with sympathy, with compassion for the woman you loved. It had been ages since you'd last seen her so much as cough. Whatever she'd caught had to be nasty; there were few things that managed to bring down the powerful Agatha Harkness, and a feeble illness wasn't one of them.

It shouldn't have been, at least.

"Can you walk?" you asked, gently hoisting her up to her feet.

Her legs instantly gave way, answering your question; you wrapped your arms around her, holding her against you, hoping against hope that your body could handle the weight of hers pressing against it.

"I got you. It's okay. I got you, sweetie."

It broke your heart to see her so weak, so fragile. As if one wrong look could break her.

As if she was already breaking, one little piece at a time.

It felt like a dream, a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.

Your Agatha was strong. Powerful. She did what she wanted and demolished everyone and everything that stood in her way.

This pitiful creature wasn't her.

It couldn't be her.

"I'm tired," Agatha murmured.

"I know you are," you said, caressing her hair. Her head lowered to your shoulder, and she relaxed, breathing softly. Safe and secure in your arms. Cozy as a baby bird, even in this awkward position. "Can you try to take a few steps to help me out here?"

"Do I have to?"

God, she was such a brat.

A part of you found it endearing.

"You'll be more comfortable on the couch than on the floor."

She couldn't argue with that. "Mmm."

Her left foot pushed itself forward. Then the right one. You guided her, slow and careful; the last thing you wanted was to cause her more pain than she was already in.

You could tell it took a lot out of her, but she forced her legs to move along with you, to follow your lead.

As soon as you reached the couch, Agatha, with a large, tired sigh, slumped forwards. You removed her jacket and shoes, then helped her lie down

"This is undignifying," she whined.

A small smile bloomed on your mouth. "It's fine. You're sick."

"I'm pathetic."

If there was anyone who was allowed to see her in that condition, it was you. "I won't tell anyone if you don't."

You made a quick run upstairs to grab the pillow and blanket off your bed, and then wrapped her up nice and tight. Swaddled her like a baby in need of utmost care.

Not that she was far from that description.

As you were adjusting the pillow under her head, your eyes fell upon a phone on the coffee table — your phone, the one you'd discarded this morning in your rush to outrun the incoming storm. A light was blinking at the top, alerting you of missed calls. Countless, you assumed. Agatha would not have given up after a couple.

A pang of regret pierced your heart. You should have been there. You should have driven her home and tucked her into bed afterwards. She shouldn't have spent hours on a cold, hard floor.

"Don't leave me," Agatha suddenly said, shaking you from your thoughts. Her lip trembled, eyes filled with tears she was trying her hardest to hold back. "Please."

There it was again, that insecurity of hers. That fear that she would be betrayed, abandoned for that was all she'd ever known. People — witches — in her life tended to turn their backs on her when she needed them the most. The coven she'd been born into, her mother, hell, even her ex, from the stories she'd told you. Nobody cared enough to stay. Nobody cared enough to put her first.

You did.

Nothing she could ever say or do would make you leave her behind.

"I won't," you assured her, grabbing her hand. Her fingers weakly wrapped around yours. "I'll be right here."

You pressed a kiss to her burning forehead, sealing the promise. You would stay with her. You would look after her. You would make sure she got better.

Agatha muttered something you couldn't exactly make out, that sounded almost like, "Thank you," and then she said in her tiniest voice, "I'm cold."

"Let me get you something for your fever, and then I'll light the fire, okay?"

As soon as she gave a nod, you rushed to the medicine cabinet upstairs, grabbed what you needed, then ran back down to the kitchen. The medication dissolved in water in seconds; you stirred it with a spoon to speed it up, cursing yourself for still, centuries into your life on this Earth, not having gotten a hang of potions.

Magic would speed up Agatha's recovery significantly. Magic that you weren't capable of.

You hated yourself for it. Hated that you couldn't help the woman you loved. Hated that the simplest of magic was out of your grasp. Hated that you could kill a person with ease, but when it came to healing you were useless.

Agatha readily drank the medicine. Without uttering a word, she let you hold the plastic cup to her mouth, too weak to attempt it herself, and drained it in two big gulps.

"This is horrible," she complained, face scrunching in disgust.

The sheer cuteness of her reaction forced your mouth to curl into a smile. "It will help."

"It better."

A part of you wanted to tease her with, "Or what?" but you decided against it. She needed to conserve her strength. There would be time for playful banter later, once her fever was down and she could make more than two steps without falling on her face.

You laid a kiss to her knuckles, adjusting the blanket, making sure that she was covered from head to toe.

As Agatha's eyes fell closed and she burrowed her face under the blanket, you set to lighting the fire. The fireplace was big, fancy in comparison to the rest of the house. It reminded you of the olden days, of mansions and villas you and Agatha would scam your way into to take advantage of the hosts. Sometimes it would be for money, other times for magic; rich witches were no less gullible than poor ones — in fact, some were even more so, their greed for the imaginary Road the perfect fodder for Agatha's cannon.

Not much had changed in that regard. Witches were just as greedy, just as gluttonous as they were back then.

People would always be people. Nature had made it so.

The first crackle of fire elicited a satisfied "Mmm" from Agatha from under the covers.

You had to smile, even though she couldn't see you.

She was going to be okay.

A seasonal respiratory illness couldn't bring down the great and powerful Agatha Harkness.

Not for long.

***

It was almost dinnertime by the time Agatha stirred awake. A groan you knew by heart prompted you to rush to her side, to ensure that you would be the first thing her eyes fell upon after blinking open.

You needed her to know that you'd made good on your promise.

You'd stayed.

You were here.

You didn't abandon her.

"Y/N?" Agatha said, rubbing her tired eyes.

"It's me," you said with a grin. "Hi."

She rolled her eyes, not in the mood for your shenanigans — not yet, anyway.

You blew her a raspberry in response, which, in turn, elicited a frustrated groan from her.

Your girl was back.

"How are you feeling?" you asked.

"Like I just woke up from hibernation."

She looked it, too. Some color had returned to her cheeks, but she was still pale as a ghost.

You laid a hand over her forehead. Her skin was its regular warmth, pleasant instead of scorching. "No fever. That's a good sign."

You'd made sure to check on her while she was asleep, palming her head every half an hour or so, just to be safe.

She'd taken well to the medicine.

"Are you sure?" she asked, for no reason other than to be a brat. Her usual tactic, used just to rile you up, to annoy you for Agatha Harkness was nothing if not a troll.

Fine. If that was how she wanted to play it. "I could always stick a thermometer up your ass to double check."

Two could play this game.

Agatha made a sour face.

"Thought so," you said with a shrug.

She responded with a pout, one of her most lethal weapons. You melted like ice greeting the sun, unable to put up a fight, to resist her blatant manipulation.

This woman had an insane amount of power over you, and the worst part of it was that you let her have it. You didn't mind it.

You gave it to her. Willingly so.

If given a choice, you would do it again in a heartbeat.

As carefully as if any sudden movement would set her ablaze, Agatha propped herself up into a sitting position. One of her hands shot out in your direction, reaching for you, beckoning for you to come to her.

You instantly obliged, moving to sit beside her. As gently as you could, you cupped her cheeks, soft and warm, flushing with more and more color with each passing minute. She leaned into your touch, into you, comfortable, trusting. She knew you would never hurt her. That you would make all the bad go away to the best of your ability. That you would love her and cherish her and protect her when she wasn't able to do it on her own.

She trusted you with herself at her most vulnerable.

You swore on your life to never do anything to make her regret it.

You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and then pecked her on the lips. "How'd it go with the witches?"

Agatha grunted, displeased. "They're the ones who got me sick."

"They hex you?"

She made a disgusted face. "Worse. They sneezed and coughed in my face. The entire damn coven was one step removed from meeting my ex."

"You really stepped in it, huh?" Understatement of the century.

Agatha scoffed. "Two of them couldn't even blast me. I had to kill them the old fashioned way." She shook her head in disappointment. "Waste of good magic."

"At least you drained the rest," you said in an attempt to make her feel better.

It didn't work.

"Yeah, but at what cost?"

"Hey, hey." You tilted her head to get her eyes to meet yours, your thumbs rubbing tender circles across her cheeks. "This is just a bug. You'll be fine. You're already doing much better."

Compared to how you'd found her mere hours ago, weak and barely conscious on the floor, unable to walk even with assistance, this was a major improvement.

"Well, I am exceptional," she said with exaggerated arrogance, a smirk coating her puckered mouth.

"Yes, you are."

Agatha preened at the praise like a peacock, eyelashes batting, lips puckering into that adorable pout that always made you melt. Unable to resist, you laid a quick kiss to them, then pecked the tip of her nose.

Witches with body counts that would make the most notorious serial killers blush had no right to be that cute.

"What was that potion you gave me?" she inquired.

"Two water-soluble Tylenol." You gave a chuckle. "Extra strength."

"Of course."

"Hey, it worked."

It was a well known fact that you and potions got along like water and oil. Agatha had tried to teach you some, many times, each having resulted in a disaster, until she'd finally given up and took on the task of preparing them herself.

As the saying went, if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself.

She knew better than to entrust that particular task to you.

That didn't make teasing you any less fun.

"If you want a potion, make it yourself," you said. "Until then, you're stuck with Tylenol."

"Whatever would you do without me?" Agatha quipped with a sigh.

"Not get sick, for one," you pointed out.

She responded with a new pout, this one hurt, sad to the core.

As tempting as it was, you didn't fall for it. "Cuteness doesn't give you the right to be a bitch to the person taking care of you."

"Doesn't it?"

"Nope."

She shrugged. "It was worth a try." Then, face turning serious, she said, "Thank you for staying."

You had, after all, promised that you would.

As mean as she could be, you knew Agatha appreciated everything you did for her. She showed it with every kiss, every cuddle, every little caress and pat. Every look in her eyes. Every breakfast she brought you to bed and coffee she made alongside it. Every new spell she boasted about learning, eager to teach you its ways.

She wasn't perfect, far from it, but you knew she loved you. Her actions spoke louder than words.

You smiled. "Always, sweetheart. You're kinda stuck with me."

Agatha retorted with a kiss, long and hungry. Yet another wordless declaration of love, louder and prouder than any yell.

The growl in her stomach prompted you to pull away. "You should get something to eat."

She contemplated it for a moment, then, knowing resistance was futile, conceded, "I could use a corn dog or something."

Or something, it was. "How does canned soup sound?"

"Like I don't have much of a choice."

"You have plenty of choices."

You'd made sure to stock up on pretty much everything. It had taken you hours; shelves at every store were almost bare, raided by people eager to prepare for the storm.

A few fights had broken out, each over random shit that, honestly, wasn't even worth fighting for. Desperation bred tension, you supposed. And tension bred conflict.

Not my circus, not my monkeys, you'd told yourself, carefully avoiding each and every brawl. You watched from a safe distance, reminded of Black Friday fight compilations Agatha liked to watch. It was bizarre to see it happen in front of your very eyes. A perfect reminder that humans, after all, really were animals.

"If you're feeling up to cooking," you added.

Agatha wasn't just the potion maker in your relationship — she was also the chef. With damn good reason.

Forcing her mouth into a tight smile, she said, "Canned soup sounds fantastic."

You thought so.

"It'll be good for you," you said. "Soup helps with the flu."

Agatha narrowed her eyes, skeptical. "I'm pretty sure that's an old wives tale."

It might have been. Not that you cared. "It's a fluid. You need fluids."

"Fine," she relented. "You win."

Her tone made it clear that she was far from happy about it.

Tough luck.

You gifted her another kiss, a little peace offering. Agatha happily accepted, melting into you, devouring the small token of affection. Begging for more, more, more like the greedy little fiend that she was.

You happily indulged her. After all, it took one to know one.

"Is your purple still malfunctioning?" you asked in-between the shower of kisses.

Agatha raised a hand up to your face. The tip of her forefinger, adorned with a long, perfectly manicured nail, lit up in rich violet. She laid it against your nose in a gentle tap. The sparks of magic cracked against your skin, tickling you, teasing you.

A grin broke out across your face. "I'm gonna take that as a no."

"When has anything held me down for long?"

"Right, you're exceptional," you echoed her words back to her, eliciting a wide smile.

"Exactly."

Leaning forwards, you rubbed your nose against hers. Agatha scrunched her face adorably.

"Stop that," she said half-heartedly, cheeks flushing with more color.

"Or what?" you challenged.

"I'll drain you."

A hearty laugh erupted from your mouth.

She pouted, feigning offense. "I mean it. There's a reason they call me witch killer."

Indeed, there was. She — happily, gleefully — killed witches.

Other witches.

Witches that weren't you.

There had been a few close calls in the past, of you being careless and almost blasting her. She'd broken into tears each time and had lectured you about safety and precaution until her throat was raw and it hurt to talk, and you'd had to wrap your arms around her and promise it wouldn't happen again.

She didn't want to hurt you.

She didn't want to take your life.

"Somehow I doubt it," you said.

Agatha shrugged. "It's your funeral. I'm formidable."

"Yes, you are." Briefly kissing the tip of her nose, which prompted another impossibly cute face scrunch, you leaned your forehead against hers. "I love you so much."

"Right back at you, honey," she said. "Thank you for being here."

"I wish I'd come home sooner."

She shook her head. "You were just in time."

You supposed you were.

It was worth it.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange @lift-heavy-be-gay @katieswain123 @riovidalharkness

[wileys-russo]

hello! a silly request, but can you write something alessia x reader along the lines where they are representing different brands (adidas/nike), but reader got new shoes/boots/etc and she doesn’t want to get them dirty so alessia offers to carry her! the motion gets caught and becomes the face of a new ad cover for the shoe and everyone teases alessia! thanks a bunch!

air russo II a.russo

"fresh ones today?" you looked up and rolled your eyes at the cheeky smile above you. "they want me to take some photos in them, training is an easy time to get that done and professionally." you explained, kyra nodding along.

"go away kyra." you sighed knowing the australian was hardly ever up to good when she had that smile on her face. "white is an interesting choice. have you checked the weather today?" her grin widened as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet.

"no, i don't watch the forecast every day pest. go away!" you kicked at her, smacking her hands away from the box of fresh boots. "kyra." you glanced behind the girl as your girlfriend appeared, poking the australian in the back and raising an eyebrow as she turned.

"leave her alone." alessia warned, pushing at her shoulders and moving to sit down next to you. "you two make me sick." the midfielder gagged dramatically, whining as steph walked past and smacked her upside the head, sending you a wink before kyra took off after her.

"i missed you." you laughed at your girlfriends words, kissing her cheek and shaking your head. "hey! say it back." she poked at your ribs making you laugh louder and push her hands off.

"less its been thirty minutes since i last saw you." you teased, kicking off your slides and bending down to slip your boots on. "and i missed you every single minute." your girlfriend sighed having just returned from a quick physio check up, leaning her body into yours.

"didn't you miss me?" she mumbled into your back, arms slung around your neck as you pushed your feet into your boots. "no." you shrugged, squealing as she pinched you. "alessia!" you huffed trying to sit up as she leaned into you more.

"say you missed me." the blonde grumbled, poking at your cheek as your eyes rolled. "get off me and i just might." you heard a huff and felt her sit up allowing you to do the same. "i missed you too, needy." you gently patted her cheek.

"less!" you laughed as she once again collapsed her much taller body into yours. "you're so mean to me." she sighed dramatically, one arm covering her face as her head moved to sit in your lap. "i love you." you chuckled, moving her arm and pecking her lips.

"thats it?" the blonde frowned trying to bunch your shirt and pull you down as you pryed her hands off. "yes! we're at training, need i remind you russo." you honked her nose and bounced your knee indicating she sit up.

"yeah save it for the bedroom lessi girl, disgusting." kyra called out with a tut and a shake of her head, eyes widening as your girlfriend leapt up and raced after her.

"children, the pair of you."

lacing up your boots and slipping in your shin guards you hopped up and hurried to catch up with steph and beth, wiggling your way in between them.

"did i just hear you call your girlfriend needy?" beth teased as you slung your arms around both of them. "yes. she's needy and i'm clingy, there's a difference." you grinned, steph tugging on your ponytail and pulling a face as you fell into conversation with them.

"when the hell did it rain!" your eyes widened in shock as you pushed through the training centre doors and noted the now very sodden grass. "it didn't genius, they water the pitch on tuesdays. remember?" steph laughed as they continued on ahead but you stopped.

"comin?" beth spun around and raised an eyebrow as you frowned at the very muddy stomped on turf between you and the pristine training pitch. "my new boots! they're white." you groaned throwing your head back.

"tough break kid. should have gone for the orange!" a hand slapped your back, leahs smirk filling your vision as she wiggled her new boots at you mockingly. "carry me?" you asked hopefully as the blonde laughed sarcastically.

"yeah you wish dopey." she shoved your head to the side and jogged off, the others leaving you behind as you glared down at the mud contemplating your options.

"babe?" you looked up and brightened at the sign of your girlfriend. "are you alright?" the blonde asked genuinely concerned as you melted at how sweet she could be. "new boots." you huffed pointing downward as her concern morphed into an amused smile.

"would you like a piggy back?" alessia chuckled as you perked up and nodded. "tell me you missed me before." the blonde frowned as you grinned. "i missed you so so so much baby, my chest was aching." you pouted with a hand over your heart.

"i don't appreciate the sarcasm but i'll accept it." your girlfriend sighed, turning around and bending down for you to climb onto her back. "i love you." you craned your neck to kiss her cheek as she hummed.

"you owe me for this." the striker warned making you smile, a few of the girls watching on and laughing as she carried you through the muddy patch and onto the training pitch which was anything but.

"and this is your stop, thank you for riding air russo." alessia announced squatting and dropping you to your feet. "oh i'll do that later, i promise." you whispered with a wink, watching with a grin as her cheeks burned bright red and she smacked your arm, both of you called over to training.

you hadn't thought anything else about it until a few days later when the training video had been released, one of the media interns having filmed alessia carrying you to the pitch and cutting it into the video.

"baby! you home?" you looked up from your computer where you were cranking out an essay you'd sworn you'd had another week to do, checking the date and realizing you had two days.

"in here!" you called back, eyes focused on the screen again typing away as you heard her make her way upstairs. "look at this!" you flinched as your laptop was yanked from your hand, held out of reach as alessia's phone replaced it.

"less! babe i have less than 48 hours to finish this essay and its worth a quarter of my grade for this subject." you tried to reach for the laptop only for it to be held higher. "you can have it back once you look." she pointed to her phone in your lap.

"this better be-" you started picking up her phone. "is this what you wanted me to see?" you couldn't help but smile at the photo on her screen. "yes! that looks bad, really bad." alessia groaned, placing your laptop down on the desk and flopping down on the bed.

the photo in question was a screen grab from the training video of alessia carrying you, edited to look like a nike ad. alessia had the adidas symbol edited onto her training top as you had the nike swoosh on yours.

the tagline 'Zoom Mercurial Superfly - a football boot so clean even the competition recognizes its game'.

"alessia. its made by a fan!" you laughed with a shake of your head. "oh yeah? look who retweeted it!" alessia huffed as you squinted and your smile grew. "oh theres an intern somewhere getting in trouble." you chuckled seeing the nike twitter had retweeted it with a series of emojis, even going as far as to tag both you and alessia.

"they're not the only one! when adidas see this, when my publicist see's this, my agent-" alessia sat bolt upright throwing her hands in the air. "baby." you grabbed them and moved her phone aside.

"its a fan edit, made from a very harmless video of my incredibly sweet girlfriend doing something lovely for her girlfriend." your hands dropped hers and settled either side of her face.

"you're not going to get in trouble, you're not going to be dropped my adidas. i will call my agent and have the edit and the retweet taken down if that will make you feel better baby, i promise." you assured, alessia sighing but nodding.

"thank you." she mumbled, burying her face into your shoulder as you smiled, running a hand through her hair. "sorry for interrupting your studying." the blonde pulled her head away as you pecked her lips a few times.

"you can be very dramatic at times less, but i love you. and hey not all of us can prioritise university, hm?" you teased, your girlfriend scoffing knowing what you were getting at.

"i have two units left of my degree and you know i'm trying my best to get them done!" alessia protested trying to get up with a huff as you laughed and moved to straddle her lap.

"no you're annoying me, get off." your girlfriend scowled as you grinned. "now now, babe thats no way to talk to a passenger." you tutted as the blonde gave you a curious look.

"i did say i'd take a ride on air russo, right?"

[oneshotnewbie]

Hi hi! How are you? I wanted to know if you could write something about Emily Prentiss x reader, where reader gets hurt (either in a case or an accident whatever) and Emily comforts her? I need a lot of angst and comfort🤭 I would appreciate it very much 🛐

Summary: The team investigates the disappearance of several people in a remote forest area. You and Emily are separated from the group while following a lead. As they move through the forest, you step into a hidden trap set by the perpetrator.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The wind blew cold through the treetops, and the branches creaked ominously as the BAU team moved carefully through the thick, impenetrable undergrowth of the forest area. Emily Prentiss, walking in front, felt the cold seeping through her jacket and pulled the collar up. Her gaze was sharp, her hands tightly gripped the flashlight and her service weapon. The ground beneath her boots was damp and muddy, and each step she took made the leaves crackle threateningly.

Next to her, you moved, another BAU agent who had only been on the team for less than a year, but had already gained a lot of trust in the group. In your young years, with a sharp mind and a natural curiosity, you had quickly proven yourself to be a valuable addition.

Today, however, there was a heaviness in the air - the disappearance of four hikers in this remote patch of forest was a disturbing case. And the deeper you went into the forest, the more the darkness seemed to swallow you up.

"Do you think this is a coincidence?" you asked, breaking the tense silence. Your voice was muffled between the dense forest as you let your gaze wander over the treetops. "Four people, within two weeks?"

Emily shook her head. "No, and I don't think you do either." She paused and shone her flashlight in your face. You flinched from the sudden and intense light, your eyes narrowed. She, however, wore a mischievous smile on her lips. "We're dealing with someone who knows the area well. This is no coincidence, this is planned."

You nodded and looked around as she shone the light into the distance again, the tension in your eyes unmistakable. "I can't help it, but this... it feels wrong. Too quiet, too..."

"Dangerous," Emily added, meeting your gaze. "Normally you should hear birds here, small animals, anything. But it's like everything has retreated." She waved her flashlight back and forth, but the light seemed to disappear in the fog that was slowly rolling in.

"Hotch said we shouldn't stray too far from the group," you reminded, stopping to examine a broken, thicker branch more closely. "The weather forecast doesn't look good."

"I know," Emily replied, checking the radio. "But we have tracks here that look fresher than anything else we've found so far. Maybe we're closer to them than we think."

You knelt down and ran your fingertips over the ground, which was covered with old leaves. "Look at this," you said, pointing to a series of irregular prints in the ground. "These are shoe prints, and they're fresh. Someone walked through here recently."

Emily leaned over him to look at the tracks. "They're shallow and deep - like someone moved in a hurry. Either he was being followed or..." she paused and looked into the distance. This time you were the one to finish her sentence. "He's following someone."

A quiet static on the radio interrupted your concentration and for a moment, you both jumped. "Prentiss, y/l/n, how are you?" Hotch's deep, controlled voice came. Emily pressed the talk button. "We've found a fresh track about a kilometer east of the victims' last known location. We're following it to see where it leads. Nothing unusual so far, but we're staying cautious."

"Understood," came the reply. "Keep your eyes peeled. The weather report has changed - a storm is coming. Be careful not to get blown too far away from the rest of the team."

Emily looked at you, and you gave her a playful, quick glance. "Y/n is counting our steps and the number of meters we cover. We'll stay in touch." She lowered the radio, winking at you in amusement. "Stay with me. We'll follow the trail."

The two of you continued on your way, the dense branches of the forest becoming increasingly eerie as the light of your flashlights danced over the uneven terrain and the gnarled roots that protruded from the ground like fingers. The sky was covered with heavy clouds that dimmed the light of the incoming moon, and the wind increased, whipping through the leaves and making the trees appear like shadowy creatures bending under an invisible weight.

"Looks like we have company," you murmured, pointing to a small deer that peeked out from between the trees in the distance before disappearing. "Maybe not quite so dead out here."

Emily laughed briefly before nodding. "At least we know that not everything has disappeared." But the uneasy feeling remained inside her. Everything seemed so strange, so prepared. Neither of you had found many traces so far, the four missing people seemed to have vanished into thin air.

After a while you reached a clearing. The ground was soft, almost swampy, and in the middle stood several old tree stumps like forgotten guardians of a bygone age. You stopped and let the beam of light wander over the ground. "It's... even stranger here than back there."

"Strange how?" asked Emily, following your gaze.

You pointed to the ground. "No animal tracks. No moss on the stumps. They look like they were recently cut down. Why here, in the middle of nowhere?" you took a step closer as your eyes locked on an object on the ground, next to it irregular patterns in the moss. "And this - look at this."

You knelt down and reached for a scrap of cloth hanging from one of the stumps. "This could be from one of the victims," ​​you said, looking at the cloth. "That would be an indication that they came through here. But why through the middle of this clearing and not on the familiar paths.

"Maybe they were forced," Emily wondered aloud. "Or they were trying to hide."

At that moment, a stronger wind picked up, sweeping across the clearing, forcing Emily to push her hair back. A dull rumble shook the earth - the storm Hotch had mentioned was approaching. A cold tingle crept up her neck, and she knew you both had to be careful. If the storm hit, visibility would get even worse, and going back down could be dangerous.

"We should get back to the team," you suggested, straightening up. "Otherwise we'll be stuck out here."

Emily nodded hesitantly, her eyes still on the scrap of cloth. "Agreed. But let's go back in a wider circle - I want to see if we can find any more tracks."

The two of you left the clearing and walked further into the darkness of the forest. The fog thickened again, and the branches seemed to reach out to you like fingers as you made your way. Suddenly Emily stopped and put her hand back in front of your middle. "Do you hear that?"

You stopped, your ears pricked. There was a distant, irregular and rustling crack, as if something or someone nearby had stepped on a larger branch and it had broken into several halves. Both of you froze, your hands immediately back on your weapons. Emily nodded in the direction of the sound, and you moved silently and alertly through the undergrowth.

You followed the sound that led you deeper into the forest. But before you could run any further, you heard a loud crash, followed by a thunderous rumble. The storm had started, and the rain suddenly pattered through the leaves with full force, making the ground slippery and making every movement difficult. For a brief moment, you lost your balance as you tripped over a rock. Emily reflexively grabbed your arm and held you tight.

"Careful," she said with a smile that tried to ease the tense mood. "I don't want you to disappear here in the forest." You smiled back. "Thank you, but I won't leave you here alone. I know you need me."

She punched you lightly on the shoulder, still holding your arm tightly in her hand. The darkness engulfed you as the forest around you came to life and the shadows seemed to stir. "We have to get out of here," Emily shouted over the noise. "Back to the clearing, and then we'll find our way back to the team."

Rain pelted down on you and Emily Prentiss like a curtain of needles, and every step through the thicket became a struggle. Your flashlight beams broke through the thick fog that swallowed the forest, but visibility was miserable. Every beam of light was broken by the raindrops that fell on you like sparkling crystals.

"Damn," Emily cursed as she made her way through the muddy earth. The branches beat against her arms and the wind almost took her breath away. "This storm is getting worse. We have to hurry."

You were close behind her, your gaze focused but alert. "This is not normal weather," you repeated over the howling of the storm. "We have to be careful not to take the wrong path."

Emily stopped, her face tense as she tried to get her bearings. The path you had come was no longer visible in the raging storm. You continued on your way, the sound of rain drumming on the leaves and ground becoming deafening.

"Stay close to me," she said as she climbed over a fallen tree trunk and reached out her hand to help you over the tree. You nodded and followed her, the wetness soaking into your skin and the weight of the soaked fabric making every movement harder, but your brave smile on your lips brought warmth despite the cold of the outside world.

But then it happened.

A deafening crack echoed through the forest, followed by an agonizing scream and the collapse of your body. Emily turned around in a flash, her eyes widening as she saw you suddenly fall to the ground. The light from her flashlight danced down to you and she recognized the metallic glint around your ankle - a trap.

"Y/n!" she screamed, running the inches back to you. You were on the ground, your face twisted in pain and your leg caught in the razor sharp jaws of an old rusted bear trap. Blood seeped through the fabric of your pants and mixed with the rain that ran in rivulets across the ground."

"Damn, damn, damn!" Emily muttered frantically as she looked more closely at the trap. "Stay calm, okay? I'll get you out of here."

You clenched your teeth, your face covered in sweat and pale with pain. "It... hurts like hell," you groaned, trying to take calm and deep breaths. "I... I didn't see her. It was hidden under the leaves."

Emily swallowed, her heart racing. She knew that this type of trap was terribly dangerous - it could shatter bones and tear tissue. And she knew that the perpetrator had placed it here on purpose to catch his victims. "Stay with me, okay?" she said firmly, even though fear was at the back of her throat. "I'll try to open the trap."

Her hands were shaking as she leaned over the rusty iron blades. The rain made everything slippery, and the metal was cold and slick. She squeezed the levers, but the trap was old, and the springs were rock hard. "Damn..." she muttered, using up her strength. "The thing... is stuck."

You screamed as the pressure on your ankle increased significantly, your eyes squeezed shut as a gasp escaped you as the pain ripped through your entire leg shot. "Emily... I don't know how long I can take this," you whispered, your voice rough and tense.

"I got you," Emily answered, her eyes determined as she tried again. Her muscles burned and the rain lashed her face, but finally the trap opened a crack. "I'll get it!"

With one last tug, she managed to open the trap enough to free your leg. You quickly pulled it away and let the trap snap shut - a sound that echoed in the darkness. Emily immediately knelt down next to you, pulled up your pants and began to examine your leg. The fabric was already completely torn, blood was flowing in streams, and she could see the gaping wound where the iron had dug into your flesh.

"This is going to hurt," she warned as she ripped the loose piece of your pants apart and tied it around the wound. "But I have to stop the blood flow."

You nodded, your jaw muscles tense, but you looked into her eyes with familiarity. "Just do it," you whispered, your voice weak. "I trust you, but hurry, I think I'm going to throw up from the pain."

Emily wrapped the fabric around your leg as tightly as she could and squeezed with all her might to stop the blood. You gasped and tensed, but you held still. "We need to get out as soon as possible," she said quietly, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Her eyes searched the darkness for a suitable place to hide, trying to remember where they could hide. "There's a small depression ahead," she said. "We can hide under it and wait for the storm to subside. We can't stay here."

You nodded, but your face was ashen and she could see you fighting the pain. The tremors running through your body, however, were seriously worrying her. "Can you get up?" she asked, her voice shaking with fear.

"It might be hard, I can barely stand on that leg," you murmured, reaching out a hand to her. "But I can try." Emily grabbed you and carefully pulled you up, taking your weight. She carefully slid an arm under your shoulder. "Lean on me, okay? I'll hold you."

Together you fought your way forward, step by step through the storm that pressed against you like a living enemy. The rain had now turned the ground into a slippery quagmire, and the weight of you on her shoulder made her sway. Her gaze flickered between the path and you, every fiber of her being focused on protecting you while ignoring the cold and exhaustion that was settling in her bones. All that mattered was you.

Every step was torture for you, and she could feel your whole body tensing up with each limp. "Hey, I need you with me, okay?" she kept saying quietly, her voice soft and soothing like an anchor you could hold on to. "Just a little bit more... we can do it."

But suddenly you collapsed, your legs gave way, and Emilly had to let you sink to the ground for a brief moment. "I... I can't do this anymore," you gasped, your breathing fast and irregular. "I'm... going black."

"No, no, you stay with me," she repeated frantically as she looked at your pale face, her hand on your cheek. Emily felt the weight of the situation like an icy grip on her heart. She lifted you up with all her strength and slowly dragged you to the depression.

There she gently lowered you to the ground, under a thick carpet of hanging branches and leaves that at least offered some protection from the rain. She sat down in front of you and her fingers slid over the makeshift bandage. The blood was already seeping through.

"You're still bleeding heavily," she said, her brow furrowed with worry as she saw the extent of the injury - the trap had left deeper cuts than she had first thought and the blood was still flowing steadily. "I have to try to take better care of that."

You nodded weakly, your breathing exhausted and heavy. "Do... what you have to," you whispered, keeping your eyes on her. Your eyes told her, despite the increasing pain, that you were lucky that she was here with you.

Emily reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a pocket knife. "I'm going to tie the fabric around your leg even tighter. It's going to hurt like hell and you'll probably get dizzy. You better lie down flat." Her voice was calm, but her eyes betrayed deep concern and panic that you were doing something wrong.

"It's okay... I'm tougher than I look," you tried to joke, but your smile seemed strained. Pain coursed through your body and weakness gnawed at you.

"Are you ready?" she asked and you nodded before laying down on the ground. With deft fingers, Emily cut the fabric of your pants further to expose the wound and cut out another piece of fabric. The sight left a lump in her throat. She folded the fabric carefully.

"You have to stay still, okay?" she said, her voice now soft, almost soothing again, as she pressed the fabric as tightly as she could around the previous wrap as an additional compress to increase the pressure on the wound. You dug into the ground, crying out loudly as the pain shot through you, but you held your leg still.

"I'm sorry," she murmured as she continued to work. "I'm so sorry. I know it stings, but you're doing great." she whispered, her eyes on you as she sealed the wound with slow, careful pressures. "I wish I could do more."

"You're doing enough already," you managed, groaning as she reached for your hand, took it in hers. "You're saving my life."

Emily paused, the fingers of her other hand still on the improvised bandage, and returned your gaze. For the first time, Emily felt that she really cared - not just as a teammate, but in a deeper, personal way.

"Okay," she said finally, tenderness in her tone that she usually hid from others. She picked up the radio. "I'm trying to reach Hotch," she pressed the talk button and leaned back against a rock to keep the signal clear. "Hotch, this is Prentiss. We have a problem."

There was a static, and she feared that the storm would make any connection impossible. But then came a low, distorted voice that she recognized as Hotch's. "Emily, we hear you. What happened?"

"Y/n is hurt," she explained, her voice shaking slightly. "She stepped into a trap - an old bear trap. We're hiding in a hollow southeast of the clearing. I've put some temporary treatment on the wound, but we need help urgently. The blood loss... is not insignificant."

There was a pause, then Hotch answered. "Understood. We're on our way. Keep her warm and awake, Emily. We'll be there in a minute."

She took a deep breath and looked back at you, who had her eyes half closed and her head tilted to the side. "They're going to get you out of here. Stay awake."

"Let's hope they're quick," you mumbled back, your breathing heavy as you tried to take a deep breath. "I'm cold."

Emily carefully slid to your side and put an arm around you to keep you warm. "I have to keep you warm," she said, rubbing her hands gently along your upper arms. "The rain and the blood loss... you can't fall asleep."

You leaned your head against her, and took her hand in yours. She fought back the tears that welled up in her eyes. In moments like these, when she saw someone so close to unconsciousness, she felt the weight of her job heavy on her shoulders. But this time it was different - it wasn't just a colleague she wanted to save. It was you, and her heart beat faster at the thought of losing you.

You know I'm looking after you, right?" She continued, trying to keep you awake and conscious, her eyes softening as they looked down at you. "I'll sit here, and I'll watch over you, like an eagle guarding its nest. I won't let anyone near you."

You tried to smile at her, but it was a weary attempt that failed. "An eagle, huh?" you asked, your eyes fixed on her even in the midst of the pain. "I... like that."

"Yes," she said, smiling back, though worry still had a firm grip on her eyes. "An eagle. No one can get to you while I'm here."

Her hand rested on your middle before her fingers intertwined with yours. She leaned closer to you to share her body heat with you. "Are you a little warmer?" she asked, your bodies close together as the rain continued to fall. She could still feel the shivering and knew she had to keep you warm in any way she could.

"I'm sorry you're in this situation because of me," you murmured, your voice shaky and quiet. You felt your strength waning. The storm had worn you both down, but you refused to give up.

"Hey, stop it," she interrupted gently, her brow furrowing with concern. "It's not your fault. We're out here together, and there's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here - with you."

You looked at her, and for a moment the pain in your eyes seemed to be overshadowed by something softer - an emotion Emily had never seen so openly in your eyes before. "Thank you. You mean more to me than I could ever say."

Emily's heart seemed to stop for a moment when she heard your words. It was as if the storm around her stopped for a moment. "I won't let you down," she whispered back, squeezing your hand tighter. "You matter to me - more than I might like to admit."

For a moment, the two of you seemed sealed off from the outside world in your small, sheltered hollow. The rain continued to fall in thick sheets and the roar of the storm was ever-present, but in that moment, all that mattered was the warmth and closeness you shared. Emily could feel you relaxing a little and she remained alert, her eyes constantly checking your wound.

Suddenly, there was a static on the radio, and this time it was clearer. "Prentiss, we've located your position - we're about 500 meters away. Hold on."

"Got it," Emily replied, breathing a sigh of relief. She looked at you again and smiled, a soft, encouraging expression crossing her features. "Listen, they're almost here. That means you have to hold on for a few more minutes."

"I'll manage," you said, and although your voice sounded weak, there was a spark of determination. "But only because you're here."

Emily felt something loosen inside her, a knot of fear and worry slowly relaxing. "Good. And you know what? I'm proud of you," she said softly, running her hand through your wet hair. "You're strong, and I'm glad we're getting through this together."

The minutes passed, and Emily stayed tirelessly by your side, rubbing your arms incessantly to keep you warm, whispering soothing words to you as she watched over you. Her alertness was sharp, and her resolve unwavering.

When she finally saw the flashlights and the shouts of her colleagues in the storm, she took a deep breath. "There they are," she said, holding you even tighter. "Everything will be okay."

When Hotch, Morgan, and JJ finally reached you, Emily felt a wave of relief flow through her body. She helped them pull you to your feet so Morgan could finally carry you in his arms to the ambulance, and stayed by your side the whole time. "We've got you," she whispered to you, sensing the group's safety. "I'm not letting you go."

And when she finally saw you safe in the team's hands, Emily knew she would do anything to protect you - like an eagle watching over its nest.

[mass-convergence]

Heads up to everyone in the southern US: a large storm system is impacting the central/southern/eastern US today through this weekend.

Today the risk is severe weather (tornadoes, wind, and hail) over the Midwest into the southeast with extremely critical fire weather risk over Texas into Oklahoma. (There’s also fire risk basically everywhere north of there too - trust me the wind is absolutely ripping up in the northern plains and there’s no rain or snow to speak of so if anything goes up it’s going to spread quick)

Tomorrow the risk is centered over the southeast with tornadoes, wind, and hail being the primary threats.

NOAA/NWS are federal government agencies and I know there’s a risk for a gov shutdown … However if there is a shutdown their operations will not be impacted. Despite all that’s going on, forecasters with the Storm Prediction Center and local NWS offices are dedicated to the mission to protect lives and property. This is all to say: please take this seriously.

If you’re under a tornado or severe thunderstorm WATCH that means the ingredients are in place for tornadoes or severe weather. However it does not mean severe weather is imminent. It means pay attention and be ready to act.

If you’re under a tornado or severe thunderstorm WARNING that means severe weather is imminent. The meteorologists at your local NWS office have either confirmed a tornado or severe weather is occurring or they’re highly confident that it’s happening or about to happen. Take shelter and please for the love of god do not go out on your porch to look for it.

[howling-goldendemon]

How I'm starting to believe in Greek gods

I just wanted to share my story, including some doubts because I'm not sure about some things. I have never been a really religious person, as growing up in a very religious family, i think even having some connection to Christianity when it comes to a town near where I live.

Anyways, as I was saying, I have never been that much about beliefs, always wondering about what else could be out there waiting for me.

After all, my family said that the most important part of being human is worshipping a greater deity, specially god; I decided to try to take that in mind while searching for a religion where I could feel kind of comfortable.

Despite the taboo that it is, i started with Satanism, my reason behind it being "I'm not comfortable in what surrounds me, maybe if I try the opposite...?".

I moved on to try atheism, it didn't feel right, something was missing.

Then I tried believing in Greek gods, this being the reason because of a famous musical based on The Odyssey.

I don't know why, but this one really felt like it called me, something in Greek gods drew my attention and respect.

I tried then making my first prayer, being it to Poseidon, I still don't know if I did it right or if I chose the wrong god to start, but my ask was for clear skies on the weekend in exchange of being able to make it rain as hard as he wanted on my 18th birthday, the reason for the ask was that there was going to be a camp; in the end, the camp was moved to next week, but it did rain in my birthday and the weekend was clear skies.

I am a little ashamed of this but I ended up asking again 2 times, this time to Zeus too, as the camp was moved to another date 3 times, this time i tried my best to not be disrespectful and I promised I'd try to make something in return.

The day of the camp, I made a quick prayer to Gaea, asking for a safe travel and general safety during said camp.

As soon as I got back to school, I got cherry incense, I am still new to this and today I lit up one of the incenses.

I was going to try Aztec gods, but I ended up feeling more comfortable in Greek mythology.

I am willing to make a tiny altar for Gaea, Poseidon and Zeus, As I feel like I still need to make a proper offering to all of them, I would've thought it was coincidence and I know it's not 100% true or reliable, but the weather forecast for those weekends I asked were written with a high probability of heavy rain.

It may have been coincidence, but I like to think it was a way to receive me with open arms in this religion.

Now for the questions:

Do I need to make separate altars for each god? I don't have much space, and I don't know what my family would thing of it if I made an altar they could see, I could fit one in my closet or a tiny table in my room.

What would I do with offerings? specifically food, I cannot leave it to rot, that feels kind of wrong, but eating or throwing it out feels too disrespectful, what is the common practice when it comes to food offerings?

Am I praying correctly? I tend to pray in this way: Treat the gods like I would treat a Teacher I respect a lot, with a lot of respect and trying to not ask for too much.

Is there a guide on what to pray to which god? I just wanna show respect by believing in every Greek god, regardless of if I ask for something or not, I wanna keep doing this.

Thank you so much for reading until the end.

[cinnamoonblue]

Chapter I | Escape

Summary: Being an artist was your life purpose and you figured it out at a very young age. No one was surprised when you quickly made a name of yourself among the art communities around the world. Everything was going according to your life’s plan, until you were diagnosed with a life changing condition - Parkinson's disease. Since that day everything started to slowly collapse for you. Looking for an escaping, moving to a small, forgotten from the world sea coast town was the only solution you could think off. Buying an old beach house, which was screaming for renovation, was the greatest escape - until you met your annoying next door neighbour and his dog. A neighbour who had his own issues and demons to deal with but somewhere between the pain and the obstacles life has thrown to both of you, you found comfort in each other. All because he had the right colour of blue paint for your staircase banister.

Main characters: Portgas D Ace x Reader (female)

Description: Modern AU | Early 40s retired Captan!Ace and Artist!Reader

WARNINGS: ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP, major age gap between Reader and Ace (!sixteen years!), 18+ only, angst, hurt/no comfort, family trauma, emotional distress, !mentions of Parkinson's disease!, mentions of depression, explicit language, english is not my first language

Word Count: 7,5K

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NOTE: I WANT TO APOLOGIES FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART THAT THIS TOOK TWO MONTHS TO BE UP , I AM SORRY! I promise you the next chapters won’t take as long to be up, there were just a lot of personal things going on and I couldn’t focus on writing as much as I wanted to. I have such big hopes for this story and I really hope that you guys won’t give up on it and be patient with me while I write it. There is more I want to say but I will leave it for the end note, so ENJOY ♡

It  turns out everywhere you go‚ you take yourself‚ that's not a lie

The road in front of you seems endless. Both front windows of the car are rolled down as you let the heavy ocean air mixed with the pine trees surrounding the road fill up the air in the vehicle. The sky is becoming more greyish, indicating that the rain is coming sooner than the weather forecast has announced it last night. But you are not worried about it as the air, mixed with view in front of you, brings you some kind of peace and a sign that today will go as you have plan it.  

You have driven for five hours and only made one quick stop at a gas station to fill up the car with fuel, not even bothering to use the toilet or buy yourself some snack for the long journey ahead of you, but you don’t feel the need to do any of it.

The past nine months have taken a big tool on you – from being on top of your own little world to massively fall down in a matter of seconds, all you desperately need is a change. A big change.  

Glancing at the GPS on the car, a small smile appears on your lips as you see that soon you will be arriving at your destination. “Seven must be my lucky number.” You whisper to yourself.

Six is the number of houses you have already looked at and they were not what you are looking for, so hopefully seven is your lucky number. Hopefully today will be the day which you can mark as your new beginning.

You want to start fresh and clean – away from everyone and everything. You have been in a desperate need of escape. The past few months have clouded your mind and heart with sorrow, pity and anger – something that you have never allowed to feel towards yourself, and you are tired of it. If life plans to throw more and more rocks towards you and your way so let it be, but you won’t let it bring you down more than you already are. Life has started to take your passion and meaning of it away from you the moment it has thrown the disease, that you are still in denial off, in your way. But until your hands are no longer capable of holding the brush and your body hasn’t betrayed you – you will fight for your happiness and peace.

The last few moths have opened your eyes for many things and set your mind on others. You are planning on learning how to be indifferent, mostly because of how tired you are. Tired of being there for everyone, yet no one is there for you except your sister, but you can’t bother her with your life and problems; after all she has a whole family to take care of and you are a grown woman who is finally free to do whatever her heart desires, with no one around you to tell you anymore how to behave or act around people and situations.  

You haven’t realised you have entered the small coast town, until you stop at a red light on a crossroad. You blink a few times as you can’t believe it. When have you passed the town entrance sign without even realising it? A long honk behind you made you jump on your seat. Looking up at the traffic light, it has changed to green which means you are holding the line, but before you can react, it changes back to red. You raise your right hand in the air to signal to the driver behind you that you are sorry, but you couldn’t see their face in the front mirror as their car, a dark grey car truck to be more specific, is higher than yours. In your attempts to see the driver and apologies somehow, you have missed the green light again which obviously pissed the person behind the wheel as they honk at you once more and this time, they kept on going without stopping it.

“Oh my God, what an asshole, stop honking.” You stick out your head of the window of your driver seat and screamed at the person who’s face you still can’t see. This is getting you stressed and pissed at the same time. You are aware that it’s your fault, but can’t they be a bit more patient. Focusing yourself on the traffic light ready to take off the second it turns to green, the dark grey truck angrily manoeuvres around you and before you have the chance to see who the angry impatient person behind the wheel is, they are long gone. All that you have managed to see is an adorable golden retriever happily having its head out of the passenger seat.

“What an idiot. There could be children walking around.” You exclaim in disbelief.

Baterilla – the smallest coast town in the east coast, if not in the whole country. The current population is four thousand four hundred forty-six people. By all means some people would even call this place a village, but by the official state of the country it is a town – a forgotten from the rest of the world town. Driving through the streets of it until you reach your final stop, you also observe the place around you. For a small, almost uninhabited town, it has a lot of houses, which would inhabit more than four thousand people, all of them painted in light pastel colours, but mostly white, making the place very welcoming and delightful for the eyes. Passing by the main street by the beach your breath is taken away – there are many small shops for all kinds of things with small restaurants and caffes every few meters. They are in the typical white and blue colour palette, with a bit of a red popping then and there, for a coastline town. Most of them are closed and you start to wonder why? Why this town seems so big, yet it’s almost ghost like? It isn’t only the beauty of the colours and the view around it, but the ocean breeze mixed with it all, is making this place straight out of some romantic movie, making you fall in love with it immediately.

When you started to look for a house to buy you have told your real estate agent that you have only three criteria for the house – to be in a small town and, if possible, away from neighbours; to be right next to the beach; to be an old house in desperate need of renovation. So far none of the houses you have checked have matched your wants, but something in your gut is telling you that today is your day and you haven’t had this feeling in a long time.

You have to drive around five more minutes before you reach your final stop – the house you are having a look at today with your agent. Seeing her car parked on the driveway in front of it makes you feel thrilled. To add to your excitement, you have noticed that all the houses close by are far away from the one you will be looking at, and there are also no parked cars in front of them which means no one lives there and that they are probably summer villas, which won’t be a big problem for you. All houses except for one, the house exactly less than a three meters away next to yours, hopefully soon to be home. But there is no car parked on the driveway so maybe it is also a home some family uses only for the summertime.

Parking on the driveway behind your real estate agent’s car, you take a deep breath before stopping the vehicle entirely. “Seven might be – no, it will be your lucky number.” You say to yourself. Taking one last look at yourself in the front mirror you nod as a gesture of giving yourself a courage to go out and look at the house. Unbuttoning your seatbelt and grabbing your bag from the passenger seat, you finally step out of your car.

Nico Robin - a woman you have met a few years ago in a charity gala with your now ex-fiancé, is standing at the beautiful big white front porch of the house. Her tall and define body is dressed in a nice, and by the looks of it, expensive designer suit in a dark blue colour with small barely visible white vertical line stich on it. Her beautiful black hair is held on a high ponytail with her bands framing her face elegantly. Nico Robin is a woman who screams elegance and class from kilometres away, but her looks are only a bonus to her skills as a real estate agent – after all she is the most demanded and famous one in the country, so having her as an acquaintance is definitely in your advantage.

Walking up the wooden white stairs of the front porch you greet her with a little smile, and she does the same.

“How are you feeling today (Y/N)?” She speaks first. Her toned, but yet warm voice always makes you feel in ease around her, and you wonder if she has this warmness in her tone with every client or she only has it with you.

When you have set your mind on finding a house for yourself, after things with your ex-partner have gone all the way downhill, she was the first person you have contacted when the idea for the house came up in your mind. You still remember her shocked facial expression when you met with her and told her what you were in a search for. “An old beach house, exactly by the beach, crying for renovation in a preferably very small town?” All she got from you was a confident nod and in return as she a deep sigh escaped her lips. “Well, I haven’t had a such weird demand by a buyer in a long time, so – yes, I will help you find your house.”

“I’m excited, have this feeling that this will be the house.” You respond with a genuine smile. Today you have caught yourself smiling quite a lot, something that doesn’t happen frequently for quite some time now.

Robin returns the smile and nods with her head towards the front door of the house to follow her. The house is big and white from the outside with a second floor. Everything inside is mostly made of wood and painted white, which you don’t mind as you are looking for a typical beach house in a first place, though most of the paint is chipped or has gone a bit yellow due to no one taking care of the house. From the moment you enter the house you stepped in a quite spacious hallway, where the stairs to the second floor are, but what caught your attention there is the beautiful old banister. All the paint there is chipped and this itself added such beauty to it.

While Robin is explaining all the details about the house to you, you take a step closer to the banister and run your fingers on it. The chipped white paint feels rough and cold on your fingers, making little scratches on your skin as you continue to observe it carefully. Ideas start to form in your mind about all the possible colours you can paint it if you buy the house.

“Do you want to check out the second floor first?” Robin interrupts your thoughts as she notices that you are not paying her any attention. Shaking your head and taking a step back from the banister, you apologize to Robin for not paying attention and tell her to continue the tour of the house however she wants. “Let’s get upstairs first, I see you really like the banister.” A small giggle escapes her lips as she leads you upstairs.

Getting up the stairs you notice the sound some of the steps make while stepping on them, but you are sure that you will find a way to fix them, after all it is only three steps making this annoying cracking sound, so it shouldn’t be such a big problem.

The upper floor has another spacious hallway which leads to a master bedroom, a guest bedroom and bathroom. Everything here is covered in old floral wallpapers, which you will take down, as none of them are in your liking. But you do fall in love with the master bedroom. It is quite spacious, and the windows are from the celling to the floor facing the beach and the view to it is mesmerizing. You can see the waves, coming one after another, creating this beautiful breathtaking dance of the ocean. Each wave carries itself with such beauty before it disappears once it touches the outline of the sand. The freedom that the ocean cares within itself has aways captured your soul and given you peace. ‘No wonder little girls dream of being mermaids.’ A small smile, which almost reaches your eyes, appears on your face when you remember that you were once a little girl who dreamed of being one.

“It’s a nice view.” Robin says, now standing next to you, enjoying the view herself.

“You like the sea, Robin?” You ask, still lost in your own thoughts, but present in the moment.

“Oh, I love it. I have a beach house myself, best investment in my whole life.” She chuckles. “Come on, let’s get downstairs.”

Robin leads you into the kitchen first. As everything else in the house, it is paint in white colours with some wallpapers on the walls and it is connected with the dinning room. From there you entered the living room, which leads to the back porch of the house thanks to the window door and big windows around it, which leads you straight to the beach. This makes you fall in love with the house even more. Not only the room is spacious, but thanks to all the big windows in it, it is all lighten up by the daylight from the outside and it will be the perfect place to drink your morning coffee in it. The last room you take look at its just an extra room. It is quite big as most rooms in this big and spacious house are. There are big windows from the celling to the floor as in the other rooms, and this can defiantly be your studio room, if you gain the courage to pick up the brush again someday.

While Robin is talking about all the advantages and disadvantages this house has you pay her no attention once again, busy with sketching the rooms you have seen in your mind - from the colours you will use to the last piece of furniture you will need.

“I have one more house, but it’s in the east side of the city. Would you like to see it? It’s way better and it doesn’t need as much renovation as this one does.” Robin knows the look of your face; she has seen it many times in all her buyers. This is the face of a person who has already set their mind on the house they are currently looking at, and they are ready to make a final deal for it.

“No need Robin. I think I have found my house.” A content smile is spread across your face as you tilt your head a bit to look at at her. “How much do they want for it?”

“Thirty thousand.”

“Thirty thousand? But this is such a big house and it’s right on the beach, why is the price so low?” There must be some mistake, it is impossible for a house like this to be priced so low.

“This house has been on the market for alsmot eight years now and no one in their right mind would buy it, as I was saying until now and you didn’t bother to listen to me.” She gives you a knowing glance. “This house has more disadvantages than advantages.”

“It doesn’t matter I will manage with it all.” You nod confidently more to yourself than to the woman standing next to you.

“Please, think about it before making a final call. Even try offering less money, the sellers are probably going to accept it.” It is not only because she knows you, but Robin doesn’t want to sell something that she knows the buyer will regret later. The house might be big and spacious, have an amazing view and lighting, mark all your criteria for what you are looking for, but the amount of time and money you will need to invest in it is not worth it.

“We can offer a lower price, but I want this house. It’s perfect and exactly what I’m looking for.”

The type of person who you are is the one that once they set their mind on something it can not be changed, and this has let you to many great and very bad decisions many times. No matter how hard the woman standing next you try to change your mind, nothing will work, so all she can do is sigh and shrug with her shoulders in defeat.

“I’m warning you from now, don’t call me in a few months crying about how you regret it.”   

It has been a month since you made the final deal for the house. Your real estate agent is still not happy with your decision, but nothing can be undone now as you finally have the keys to it in your hands.

Standing in the middle of the small apartment you have been renting out for a few moths now, you are packing up all the things you will need in your new home with the help of your sister.

“I still can’t believe that you’re moving so far away.” Rebecca exclaims in disbelief as she closes one of the big boxes and wraps it in tape.

“It’s not that far away.” You murmur with a roll of your eyes.

“It’s seven hours car drive. How is this not far away?” Her amber eyes widen at your statement and how calmly you take the situation. She already lives two hours away from you, but adding extra five is a bit too much for her. “And yet, you haven’t even told me why?” She stops her movements and looks at you as you try to ignore her questioning eyes.

“I just need a fresh start.” You quietly answer, but this doesn’t give your sister any satisfaction. There are so many questions she has asked, yet none of them are given an answer, and this pains her. You two have never had secrets from each other, so what have changed? Why have you suddenly become so distant?

“What are you hiding from me (Y/N)?” There is so much pain behind the way she says your name pleadingly for an answer. She knows you like the back of her hand, and she cares for you like no one else does.

“I’m not hiding anything. Why you keep accusing me of hiding something?” Brushing her off like it is nothing only add fuel to your sister’s irritation with you. You are in fact hiding a lot from her, but it is for her own good. Rebecca has a family and problems of her own, you don’t want to add to this. The baggage with your problems and pain is yours to carry.

“Stop lying.” Getting up from the floor she comes closer to where you are sitting on it. “First you break you with the man whose name I don’t even want to say, and thanks God for this.” She puts her hand on top of her chest where her heart is as she breaths out with relief, remembering that you are no longer involved with the cruel man you had been for almost three years. “And still till this day, you aren’t telling me what happened and why you two broke the engagement off.” Her voice starts to raise a bit as she walks back and forth in the living room. “Then even before you broke the engagement something was off with you and still is, but you keep on being stubborn and refusing to speak with me. Me – your sister, the person who is always there for you, and now...” She takes a deep breath as she feels her lip trembling from all the build up tension, she has built up within herself. “Now on top of it all, you hit me last night with a phone call to help you pack, because you are moving six hundred kilometres away... Tomorrow.”

Silence takes over you. Everything your sister is saying is true, but you can’t bring yourself to tell her the truth. You can’t bring yourself to tell her the reason why you and your fiancé broke off the engagement. You can’t bring yourself to tell her that you might be diagnosed with stage one of Parkinson’s disease and that your life is slowly losing its meaning. You can’t bring to tell her that there are days where all you can do is cry and stair into nothingness as dark thoughts run through your mind. You can’t bring yourself to tell her that you are not looking for a new fresh start, and what you are looking for is an escape – an escape from everyone and everything.

Taking a deep breath in before exhaling, you finally grow the courage to look at your sister. “Becca, I’m not ready to speak about it.” This time you don’t lie, and Rebecca can read it on your face.

“Why?” Her voice comes out low and full of hurt, betrayed even. “You know that you can tell me anything. Is that monster threatening you with something?” She comes closer to you and kneels on the floor, taking your hands in hers giving them a gentle squeeze.

“No, no, nothing like this.” You shake your head. “I haven’t heard of him since we broke up, there is nothing to worry about.”

“Then why, no, what is that you are not ready to speak about?” You don’t have the energy for this, at least not now, when you don’t have the answers yourself.

“Becca, could we please finish packing up, because I have the moving company coming early tomorrow morning?” Giving her a pleading look you hope that she will drop the subject and just continue helping with the putting everything away in the boxes.

“Fine.” She answers, feeling defeated and remembering how hard you are to speak with when it comes to emotions and expressing your feeling. If she hasn’t been your sister and knows you so well, she might have thought that you are an emotionally disabled as if it hasn’t been through your art, you barely ever express anything than a smile and a frown. And recently she has noticed that all you do is frowning; a smile is a very rare occurrence, and your laughter... she doesn’t even remember the last time she has been able to hear it.  

Seeing Rebecca turning around and going to pick another box, you relax your shoulders a bit. If she wants to, Rebecca can be as stubborn as you are, after all you are sisters, but she has aways been the one who has been gentler and more compassionate, which is good because otherwise you two might have never been this close.

“By the way, when was the last time you paint something?” Her question catches you by surprise. To be honest you don’t remember. It has been quite long since you have picked the brush in your hands. Maybe ten moths ago, a month before your big exhibition, but you are not very sure. After you have visited doctor Hiriluk and then doctor Kureha, you haven’t touched your paint brushes.

“A few days ago.” You lie without even thinking twice. If you tell her the truth it will only make things worse, and you don’t need this right now.

“Do you mind showing it to me?” She carefully observes your face and body as you slowly nod. You are lying, and Rebecca doesn’t like this. Something is going on and you refuse to tell her, but why?

“Of course, but let’s finish with this first.” You look up at her with a big fake smile spread across your face as you lift one of the many books you have in your hand as a gesture to your sister to remember why she is here in a first place.

You had to wake up very early this morning to let the moving company in and leave your keys to the landlord. Thankfully your landlord, an amazing and sweet mid-sixty man, offered himself to lock after the moving company so you could go ahead and be at the house before them, for which you were more than grateful for and accepted the offer without wasting a second.

Taking a sip of your second coffee for the day, you are now just an hour away from Baterilla, your new home and fresh start. The road has been long once again, but you are almost there. With your windows down you can feel the early spring breeze blazing your skin. Even thought you are quite exhausted from last night, as Rebecca has stayed until quite late to help you and thankfully, by the end of it, out of energy to ask you more questions before she leaves, somehow you feel extremely energized as well. Today should be a good day, as it was the last time you came here. This is your new beginning set on your tempo and rules so what can go wrong?

Apparently, everything can go wrong. Standing on the front porch of your new home you are looking with disbelief all over your face at the men who are supposed to take care of your furniture.

“What do you mean you can’t get them inside?” You gesture with your hand at the furniture spread across the front of the house.

With a deep sigh and an eye roll one of the two men tries to explain to you calmly that there has been some mistake, and they must get back to the city as they have double booked today, and they must take care of their other customer’s furniture.

“So what? You must finish your job here first.” Your patience is wearing thin. They must be joking with you. This can’t be.

“Miss, we must go back, please understand.” The man tries again as his colleague makes his way back to the truck they have come with. “We will be back on Thursday and put your furniture in the house.” Lifting his hands in the air as the problem is being solved, he turns his back to you and starts to make his own way to the truck, but you are quick to follow him as you start walking angrily behind and grab his shoulder to stop him.

“Thursday? Are you crazy?” You yell at his face. “This is in two days! Am I supposed to just leave my things out here for two days?”

“As I said, we are sorry, but we are on a tight schedule, and we must drive five hours back.” His face is blank as a new canvas as he pushes away your hand and gets back in the truck.

“Oh, hell no! You two are not leaving until you get everything inside.” You try to open the door of the truck and get the man out, but his co-worker fast to lock the doors. “I will contact your boss.” Slamming your hand on the door, all you get back in return is another annoyed look and an eye roll from both men.

“Yea, yea miss, please do that.” The man replies rolling his window up as his co-worker starts the truck ready to leave.

You waste not a single second to run to the front of the truck as they are about to leave the driveway. Crossing your arms over your chest you gave them a cocky knowing look that says, ‘What are you going to do about this now?’ with one brow raised high – they can’t escape you.

Or that is what you tell yourself until you see them backing up and manoeuvre around you, leaving you standing in the middle of the street with face full of disbelief. Running after them hoping that they will stop, you just give up.

“Yes, yes – drive away. Assholes! I will demand a refund!” Screaming on top of your lungs as you stop running in the middle of the road, you are trying to catch your breath as the truck drives away. “Fucking assholes.” You whisper turning back around and walking slowly to your house, as your legs feel heavier than usual.

Standing in the middle of the sidewalk right in front of it, you look at all the boxes and furniture, trying to figure out how to get them inside the house all by yourself. Pulling your flip phone out of your back pocket, you dial the moving company number as you are planning to make a big fuss about what has just happened to their boss. After a few rings, the call is finally being answered, and you give no time to the person on the other side of it to even say hello as you snap at them.

“No, no, you listen to me. I will not wait until Thursday for your lazy employees to come and get my furniture in the house as this is an unacceptable behaviour.” You don’t remember the last time being this mad and aggravated. The audacity this company has is through the roof, and you are not having that. “Do you hear yourself?” Your voice is full of disbelief as you place the phone between your ear and shoulder, picking up the smallest boxes you have and start moving them into the house. Not only you must deal with this situation that you are in as of right now, but the weather has changed in a span of seconds and by the looks of it soon is about to start raining.

Heated into the argument you are having with the owner of the moving company, moving back and forth from inside to outside with boxes in your hands, you don’t hear nor see the dog who has run in your direction and before you know it you are laying on the ground with all of the things you are carrying spread around as you are trying to process what has just happened.

“Max, bad boy! Stop!” A male voice yells behind you.

Trying to get back on your feet you felt your hands starting to get stiff. “No, no, no. Not now, please, not now.” Whispering in fear your eyes focus on them. This can’t be happening right now. Taking a deep breath in you try to move slowly your fingers hoping that the stiffness will go away fast. “Come on, come on.”

“Hey, did you get hurt? Do you need help?” Hearing the same male voice, but now so much closer to you, you tilt your head at the direction where it comes from. Glancing up at him your eyes are met with a deep dark shade of brown ones. “I’m so sorry about Max. He just ran towards you the moment he saw you and didn’t listen to me.” The man chuckles awkwardly as he runs a hand through his raven black messy hair.

You are about to respond when you hear a bark. The dog who caused your fall, runs by next to the man and stands by his owner’s leg.

“Bad boy, Max.” The man scolds the dog as it sadly looks down at the ground. Looking back at you and seeing you still on the ground without moving he raises a brow. “Hey, you okay? You need hel-”

“I’m fine.” You cut him off fast as the last thing you need today is a pity from some stranger.

“You sure ‘bout that?” He replies, crouching to get a better view of you. Turning your face at him with a frown, the man is a bit taken aback. He doesn’t think that he has seen such a beautiful woman before in his life, let alone someone to make his breath caught up in his lungs for a moment.

“I said, I’m fine.” If your face doesn’t give off the vibe that you are both irritated and pissed at the same time, then your voice surely does it.

A makeshift puff of laugher escapes his lips as he observes your face, trying to take a glimpse of your eyes, which are avoiding his at all cost. “No, need to be stubborn. After all it’s my dog’s fault, so let me help you get ba-”

“What if I like laying on the ground? Has it crossed you mind?” Interrupting him once again, the dark haired man can’t help but laugh. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing...” He drags out waiting to hear you name, but you don’t give him anything. Finally, you start to feel your fingers and quickly go back on your feet. Patting all the sand away from your clothes you turn to look at the man who is now also back on his feet. “I’m Ace, nice to meet you...” Raising his right brow Ace makes a second attempt to get your name as he reaches with his hand for a handshake, but you just ignore it. Still avoiding his eyes, you murmur your name, and he repeats it as he makes sure to remember it. “I’m really sorry ‘bout Max.”

Lowering your eyes down to the ground you are met with an adorable golden retriever, who happily wiggles its tail, barking at you in a way like he greets you. “It’s fine.” You reply and finally trace your eyes to take a better look at the man in front of you. Quite tall and muscular, obviously older than you, but not a lot, at best late thirties you would guess, with a raven-black wavy hair reaching his shoulders and freckles spread across his cheeks. Dressed in black pants and just a simple white shirt, with red bead neckless around his neck. If you aren’t as pissed as you are right now, you might have been nicer to the man, but you are not – you are more than pissed at this point, you are aggravated. He has apologies already why is he still here.

“So, I guess you are the new owner of this house.” Ace says, crossing his arms over his chest and observing you, while waiting for your answer. What has gotten you so irritated? It can’t be just his dog. All he gets in response is a nod from you. “That’s nice. What made you movie here? Are you al-”

“Look, no need for a small talk, Ace...? It was Ace, right?” Deep down you know that later you will regret this. After all it is obvious that the man is just being polite and means no harm towards you, but he just happened to appear in the worst possible moment – first the moving company, then you having to carry everything by yourself and then you being swept to the ground by his dog, which you aren’t as mad about as you body betraying you when you have tried to stand up. “Why I moved here or whatever is up to me, now if you don’t mind, I would love to be left alone, and please if you can’t control your dog, put it on a leash or something.” You don’t even wait for a response when you turn around and crouch to pick up the things you have dropped.

“Hey, be as rude as you want to me, but careful with the comments ‘bout the dog.” Be rude, act bratty and arrogant as much as you want towards him, but Ace would never tolerate someone acting or speaking bad about his dog.

“Pff, whatever.” Murmuring under your breath once again you pay the man no attention. Grabbing the box steady in your hands you turn around and see him still standing there. “I think I made it clear that I want to be left alone, didn’t I?”

“Just a question, are you planning to get all of this in the house all by yourself?” His question isn’t mocking, but there is a hit of a mockery in his voice.

Swallowing hard and biting on the inside of your cheek you just nod. “Yes, why?”

“Look, princess.” He starts with a chuckle. “If you need help, I can help you.”

“Don’t pet name me.” Narrowing your eyes at him you are about to cuss him off when you notice something in the background, something quite familiar. “You know whose car is that?” Pointing at the silver truck car behind him, parked on your neighbour’s driveway, you fix your attention on it. You know this car; this is the same car of the same crazy person you have encounter on the crossway a month ago. This day can’t get worse that this – but apparently your neighbour turns out to be the crazy driver.

Raising his brow a bit and looking at you carefully, Ace throw a glance behind him at the car. “I do know. Why?”

“I’m sure this is the car of this crazy road rage maniac I encounter a month ago.” Hearing this his eyes widen a bit as realisation hits him. Taking a glance on the side he sees your car and recognises it immediately.  

“Well, if some people hadn’t missed four green lights in a row, that so called maniac wouldn’t have reacted the way he did.” Straighten his back and rolling his shoulders blades Ace looks at you, and now he is equally as pissed as you are. He can’t believe how can someone has such an attitude, when they have been the one who is in the wrong.

“Excuse me?” It doesn’t take you long to connect the dots that the ‘road maniac’ is him and that he also happens to be your neighbour. “First of all, it was my first time ever stepping foot in this town.” Walking closer to him you point your finger in his face. “Second, there could have been kids or people in general crossing the streets, what if you have hit someone?”

“Easy with the finger pointing.” He warns you as he takes a step closer to you, having have enough with your attitude. “Cut the bullshit. You’re the one who was at fault.”

“I did try to apologies, asshole.” You spat right back at him.

Deciding that there is no point in arguing with such a stubborn, big attitude, egocentric woman, Ace just turns around and calls after his dog to follow him.

“Oh, yes. Walkaway, you crazy maniac.” You yell after him with a big cocky smile spread across your face.

As he is turning back to look at you and close your big mouth shit, Ace feels a drop of rain falling on his cheek. Lifting his head up at the sky he feels more raindrops falling on his skin and a big cocky smile, similar to yours just a seconds ago, spread across his own face.

“Good luck, getting all this inside, princess.”  He clicks with his tongue as he sees the panic rushing all over your face as you feel the rain on your own skin. “Come on, Max. Let’s go, boy.” Whistling to his dog and patting the side of his left thigh, the dog happily follows his owner. “Good boy.”

Meanwhile you are not sure what to do next – you haven’t bothered to cover your furniture with anything last night so everything will get wet, and on top of it you don’t have anything to cover them with. Without wasting anymore time, you start running back and forth, trying to get everything inside as fast as possible, but there is no point. It’s pouring rain outside at this point, your sofa, armchair, all the textile furniture you have are wet and no matter what you try, you can’t get them inside by yourself, yet this doesn’t stop you from trying.

Looking at you from his kitchen, Ace sighs deeply with annoyance. Seeing how you are running back and forth, struggling to lift most of the boxes he feels a bit of a pity for you, but not so much to come help you, not like you deserve it. It is still shocking to him, how a beautiful young woman like you could have such an attitude toward a person who in fact tries to be polite with her and just introduce themselves. No matter how attractive you are, you are too young for him anyway, and he will never try to hit on a girl who is obviously still in her twenties, but due to the fact that you are going to be neighbours now, you can at least try to be nice to each other, but no – you happened to be a bitch.

A loud bark takes Ace out of his trance and makes him look away from the window. “Yea, I know boy. Some women are crazy.” Crouching next to his dog, Ace pets Max’s head as he happily barks and wiggle his tail. “Let’s make something to eat.”

You have given up. All you have managed to get inside are the boxes and some chairs, everything else you have left outside. Sitting in the middle of the kitchen, you have made yourself a warm cup of tea to calm yourself down.

Today is probably one of the worst days you have had in a long time. This hasn’t supposed to start like this. After you have given up on the furniture outside, you have called another moving company who has agreed to help you and they will come tomorrow morning, so this is one less problem to worry about.

But the thing you are feeling the worst about is your encounter with your neighbour. You have acted like a bitch towards him, and he didn’t deserve it, but you couldn’t help it. Since you have found out that you might be in first stage of Parkinson’s, something switched in you. You used to smile a lot, be nice, patient, kind to people. But not nowadays. After everything has gone down in your life, it feels like you have turned into something you don’t recognise anymore. You barely smile, having people around you irritates you to a point that you want to be isolated and far away from everyone, and that is why you have moved here in a first place. That is why you want to start new life as an escape from everyone and everything.

Of course, with your luck, everything from day one goes downhill, and you don’t know how to fix things. You don’t know if you actually want to fix them, maybe it is for better that things have turned out this way. You don’t want nor need friends, neighbours or whatever – you are all fine by yourself.

You are all fine by yourself, until it’s nighttime and there is no one to whom you can share your pain. No one to share how much you are afraid of the future and what it holds for you. No one to tell that even looking at the mirror you can’t recognise the face looking right back at you. That everything feels like you are locked in some lucid dream, no – nightmare, from which you can not escape.

It doesn’t matter how far away we go, where we go, or who we go with; at the end of the day no matter what you take yourself everywhere you go, yet recently you are not you. And this pains you, it pains you so deeply that almost every night you spend curled up in your bed, with tears falling down like waterfalls, yet no matter what you try nothing ease the pain. You want to scream, shout even, that this isn’t fair. Why you must endure this pain, why life has to take everything you love away from you? What have you done to deserve this?

Tonight, is no different than any other – you find yourself curled up in your new bed, which thankfully has been delivered here a week ago, so at least you have where to sleep. You have imagined tonight so much different, but as everything in this life nothing goes as planned for you. Curled up and clinging to the bed sheets with your fists wrap around them, your cries are silent, yet the need to scream is at the top of your lungs.

END NOTE: Again, I’m so sorry that it took so long to post chapter one. The thing is that I realised how much I suck with describing atmosphere and I really try to focus on this now as it’s important for the setting of the story. Another thing is that some of the things in the story include a lot of research + I have to really dig into Ace’s characters (more than usual) because making him in his 40s is a challenge as he can not act as he did when he was 20. And to make things also more complicated to me I made the story being set in the early 2000s so I must do research on how some things were back then as I was a baby back then haha. Anyway I hope that you enjoyed the first chapter and that you are willing to follow this story with the same interest as some of you follow THE NBHD. Your feedback is always appreciate by me ♡. Feel free to like, comment, reblog or message me about it. THANK YOU ♡♡♡

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