#‘they couldn’t have been more clear’

[ilypaigebuckets]

Can you maybe write a Kate Martin x reader fic where the reader is asked to be mic'd up at one of her games?

sorry i couldn’t think of a good title for this🙁 i hope you like this tho!

Mic’d Up - Kate Martin x Reader

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

Ever since your girlfriend had gotten drafted, the media had been all over your relationship. Even at Iowa fans had loved the two of you together, but once she was drafted into the Aces was when your love really made headlines. People admired you and Kate not only as a queer couple in media, but also as a healthy and loving couple. There were countless edits of the two of you flirting at halftime, snuggling up to each other before and after games, and overall just being a really cute couple.

You were so excited when you were asked to be mic’d up for the Aces latest game. While you were a little confused at first because you weren’t actually a player, the team’s media manager assured you the fans would love it. So there you were, standing in front of the basketball court to film your introduction before the game started.

“Hey, guys! It’s Y/n L/n here, professional WNBA girlfriend and today I’m mic’d up for the Aces game!” Suddenly Kate ran up behind you and hugged you from behind, lifting you off the ground. You giggled and Kate set you down on the ground. You turned around and wrapped your arms around her shoulders, going on your tiptoes to hug her closer.

“Speaking of girlfriend, this is my superstar girlfriend Kate!” Kate rolled her eyes are you playfully and looked away, embarrassed from your praise of her. “You ready for the game, babe?” She sucked her teeth in response to the question and held you close to her chest, absentmindedly playing with your hair.

“Uh honestly I’m pretty nervous but we’re just gonna give it all that we got and I’m just gonna try my best!” You smiled at her answered and reached up to pinch her cheeks, “Isn’t she just adorable, guys?” You asked looking at the camera.

Soon enough, Kate had to go warm up and you went to your spot. You watched her warm up and made conversation with a random man sitting next to you.

“Who are you here to watch? You see 20? That one’s mine!” You took out your phone and started taking pictures of Kate warming up. “She’s so cute. Look at her!! She’s gonna shoot it!” Kate runs and shoots the ball and makes it in the net. She was so excited when she made it and looked over at you to see if you saw it too. She ran up to you and sat in the empty chair next to you, talking about her shot and her plans for this game.

“AMAZING BABY!! Yes I saw! Focus, honey! Yes I love you too! Good luck! Yes, okay baby focus keep warming up!” You could tell Kate was nervous out of her mind for the game so you took her hand in yours, completely forgetting you were mic’d up. You reassured your girlfriend that yes, you were watching her and yes, she was doing amazing and yes, you loved her very much and yes, she did have to leave right that second and go check in because the other team had arrived and they were about to start the game. Kate nodded her head at you and stood up. It was funny, you knew she had to go but as soon as she started to get up you grabbed her hand.

“Wait,” you told her and you pulled her in for a quick peck on the lips. She smirked at you and winked as she walked back to her teammates. You laughed and whispered to yourself, “Wow I love that I get to do that.”

The game was very eventful, but the Aces were doing amazing. Your girlfriend, especially was on fire. She was making shots left and right and it was clear she was growing more confident the more she played. You watched the game earnestly as Kate ran after a player on the opposing team and she was about to make a shot. Suddenly, Kate jumped up and blocked the ball.

You couldn’t help but jump up in joy. “That’s my girl!” You raised your arms above up to cheer and accidentally hit the guy next to you in the head. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” You said to him, but he was laughing so you knew it was alright. “I hope nobody caught that..” you whispered to yourself.

“Guys,” You said to the mic, “Kate looks so editable right now. Look at how cute she is. Like you know that one song ‘ and you say daddy’s home’? literally her right now. Okay let’s edit that part out. Please.”

The whistle blew and the game was over, the Aces having won 76-68. Kate was over the moon and ran over to you as soon as she finished celebrating with her teammates. She ran up to you and picked you up, twirling you around. “I love when she does this,” you whispered into the mic. She put you down and you put you hands on either side of her face. “I’m so proud of you.” You pulled her face down to kiss her forehead.

Kate grinned and stole a kiss from your lips. “I’m glad. Wanna go get ice cream now?” You laughed and nodded, rolling your eyes.

“I hope you guys enjoyed me being mic’d up! Great job to everyone tonight and to everyone watching thanks for the support I know the team really appreciates it!” You pulled the mic off your shirt and handed it back to the media manager, following Kate into the locker room.

[amourane]

THE WAY YOU WRITE IS JUST *CHEF’S KISS*

You deserve all the notes ⭐️ would it be ok to request a post hogwarts with theo? Angst to fluff if that’s alright?

TIA if you decide to do it!!

—🍄

calm after the storm

pairing: theodore nott x gn!reader

genre: angst to fluff, post hogwarts au

w/c: 1.2k

summary: theo has a hard time dealing with his emotions and you were always there for him but what if one day it becomes all too much.

warnings: it's going to hurt <3

a/n: 🍄 thank you so so much for this request because i read it when u sent it and i remembered it in my exam and i managed to write this banger (i dont know if its word for word but i tried to write as much as i could remember) i just added the fluff at the end. BUT THIS IS FOR YOU <33333

Rain.

It was the first thing that hit Theo’s face when he stormed out of the door. Thick and heavy droplets that fell from the sky, marking his perfect face. They streaked down his cheeks parting into different directions like rivers. The cold sensation enveloped him as he listened to the pitter patter that flooded his ears.

He was angry. He was frustrated. He was livid. The ugly emotion bubbled within him, threatening to burst. It twisted and toiled, shrieked and screamed. It was like a monster, feeding on his anger, waiting to pounce at any second. 

The fight wasn’t meant to escalate this badly. Insults were thrown and meaningless threats were made as the both of you shouted at each other.

The argument could have been solved. The solution simply lay right in front of Theo but he had refused to see it. He had refused to accept he was wrong. You hadn’t asked for much, hadn’t asked anything unreasonable yet he had lashed out. He chose to ignore what lay in front of him and blame you instead. 

“I should have never accepted your pathetic excuse for a confession.”

The words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could’ve stopped them. Harsh cutting words that dug into you and twisted with malice. He saw the way his words clawed at the seams of your heart, ripping it to shreds. He watched as your face fell and broke. The once bright smile he always saw was replaced with a heart wrenching stare.

It was all too much. So he ran.

Bitterness swallowed him whole as he thought back to the moment. Festering anger turned into anguish. You had always been so full of joy. Ever since he had met you all those years ago when he watched as you got sorted and skipped to your table with glee. You were so beautiful, so kind, so pure. Your eyes would always look at him with so much adoration and love. Theo loved you more than he could imagine. 

Then the fight would resurface. It overtook his honeyed memories of you like an infectious plague, tainting the sweet thoughts. They replaced your beautiful smile with a heartbroken expression. Your eyes, that he was so used to seeing filled with love, looked at him with incredulous horror. The sight haunted him.

Rain brought Theo back to the present. The thunderous clap resounded through his ears. At first, he had wanted to run far away but he only found himself able to walk so far before his feet refused to move. He stayed stuck to the ground as he felt the rain wash over him. Theo didn’t care what others thought, didn’t care if the passersby looked at him oddly.

All he cared about was you.

Theo didn’t know how long he stayed outside letting the water rush over his body. He simply stood. Time seemed to pass slowly as he tried to remind himself of your laughter and smiles. He forced himself to forget about what had happened but he couldn’t. The memories were constant, a never ending cycle that would taunt him. 

The rain slowed and eventually stopped. The dull grey clouds cleared to reveal the peaceful sky as if nothing had happened. 

Even though the sun beamed down on Theo he still felt the endless rivers that ran down his cheeks. He still felt the streaks of water as they rolled down his face. The tears didn’t stop as he stood there.

The streets were still damp, the scent of rain hanging in the air. Theo felt a gentle touch on his arm and he flinched, spinning around to meet your worried gaze. Your voice, soft and full of concern, broke through the haze. 

“Theo, you’re soaked. You’ll catch a cold out here.”

He turned to face you, his eyes red and puffy from crying. The moment his gaze met yours, the dam broke. Sobs racked his body, and he fell into your arms, clutching you as if you were his lifeline.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out between sobs. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. I was just so angry, and I took it out on you. I was wrong, and I’m so sorry.”

You held him tighter, your touch soothing him. He continued to cry, unable to stop the tears as they continued to fall. The guilt ate him up inside, gnawed at his conscience, continuously banging on the iron bars that he kept his heart behind.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You whispered, stroking his wet hair. “It’s okay, Theo. We’ll get through this.”

Your words broke him even more. You were so kind. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your kindness. You had always been the understanding one, the one to resolve fights, the one who would reach out and tell him it’ll be okay. Theo knew he had a problem with his emotions, he knew that he had a hard time expressing how he felt. You knew it too. He would always be grateful for the way that you still stuck by him despite everything. 

“I hurt you. I said such horrible things. How can you even look at me?” He whispered against you, his voice cracking. His throat was dry and hoarse from the crying and he pulled away to look at you. His vision was blurry but he could still make out your beautiful features.

You cupped his face in your hands, wiping away the tears with your thumbs. “Because I love you, Theo. We’ve had our fights, but this…this is something we can fix. We just need to talk and understand each other.”

Theo could only watch as you smiled despite the fact tears were spilling from your eyes too. He felt the emotions whirl in his mind.

“I love you so much Y/n. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Y/n. I’m such a bad boyfriend. I’m so sorry. I never meant any of it. I love you so much, so so much.” He hugged your body tight, trying to grasp onto the warmth you always provided him with. “Can we - can we start over?”

You nodded, a soft smile spreading across your face. “Yes, Theo. We can start over. But first, let’s get you out of these wet clothes and somewhere warm.”

The two of you walked back to your apartment, your hand holding his as you led him inside. No words were said as you helped him dry off, grabbing new clothes so he didn’t fall sick from the rain. Each touch that you left filled his cold body with warmth. He pulled you towards him, embracing you tightly.

“Thank you.” He whispered against your hair. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

You held him tighter, making sure that he knew that you would always be there for him, making sure that he felt all of your love and comfort.

“I would never give up on you.” You breathed out a sigh as your hands massaged his back. “We’ll get through this, just like how we got through everything else.”

The two of you stayed in silence, letting the day pass by. No words needed to be exchanged as the both of you enjoyed the comfort of each other's love. Theo knew he had issues. He knew he had problems. Yet as long as you stayed by him he knew that life wouldn’t be so bad.

[undertheorangetree]

Tantrum

Summary- Art’s girlfriend sucks at tennis. He helps her feel better.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Stanford era Art. Exhibitionism. Body worship. Cunnilingus. Wee bit of fingering. P in V sex. Riding. The fluffiest giggliest sex you've ever seen. Me not knowing a damn thing about tennis.

Author's Note- Hi idk if you noticed but i have Challengers brain rot rn specifically for Art Donaldson :// As a theatre kid I simply had no choice it was always gonna be him. Read the full fic on AO3.

When Art had looked up at her with big pleading eyes, all but begging her to allow him to teach her the basics of tennis, she was in no position to refuse. It had been sweet, how badly he wanted to share his passion with her, the kisses he had peppered across her neck and chest in order to entice her into it, and she couldn’t so much as imagine denying him. Forget the fact that she had never held a racket in her life, that her strengths had always been rooted in academia rather than athletics.  If allowing him to teach her would make him happy, she would do it.

Though not without complaint.

She lets out a frustrated grunt as the ball hits the net- again- before turning her head up to glare at Art when he barely manages to stifle his laugh. He smothers it immediately when he catches sight of her glower, hand coming up to rub at his mouth as if he can physically wipe away his smile and she feels her teeth grind together.

“You can’t laugh. You’re the one who wanted me to do this so you’re not allowed to make fun of me,” she complains, her voice half petulance half hurt and immediately his face morphs into something more apologetic.

“I’m sorry baby.” He makes his way closer but she simply rolls her eyes, turning her nose up when he reaches out to her. He takes it in stride. “I’m not laughing at you, you’re doing very well. It’s just funny to see you so frustrated.”

It’s her turn to laugh, though it is little more than a humourless bark. “I am not doing very well. I suck.”

He makes a sympathetic noise as he attempts to reach for her again. She allows it begrudgingly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as his hands close around her elbows, face dropping into her neck to press a kiss there. She thinks that he’s about to praise her further, try to coax her back into committing herself to the game, but he stays silent, continuing to lavish her with silent kisses.

She’s happy for the odd hour they decided to come here, the tennis court completely devoid of any other life. It’s a colder night than it should be for mid spring, the floodlights and moon the only two things to provide them with any light, and she’s grateful finals have chased everyone else away. She’s glad to have this time alone with him, despite her frustration. To feel like they are the only two people in the world.

“You’re just hitting the ball too hard,” he explains, face still half buried in her throat. “And you aren’t even attempting to aim. Putting everything you have behind the hit doesn’t make it a good one if you don’t know where you’re sending it. There’s more to tennis than just force, you have to be smart about it.”

She scoffs, reaching up to press her palm against his forehead and shove him away, ignoring the shit eating grin that’s made itself known on his face. “Just go over there and hit the damn ball. Before I leave you here by yourself.”

The grin doesn’t fade, his amusement more than clear, but he does as she asks, returning to his side of the court. She lets out another aggravated sigh as she returns to the position he had told her to wait in, knees bent as she waits for him to serve, realizing more and more that she prefers to watch him play tennis rather than do it with him. She finds far more joy watching him from the stands as he chases after the ball, sweat dripping from his curls and grunts echoing in her ears. Here, where she is the one chasing the ball like a damn dog and failing to send it sailing over the net when she does manage to catch it, there is no time to admire Art in his element.

She almost feels bad for her poor attitude, wishing she was less competitive so that she could simply enjoy this quality time with him, but every failure does nothing but enrage her further, sending her spiralling further into frustration.

Read the rest here :)

[espinosaurusrexex]

Celeste

FallenAngel!BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader AU

summary: Heaven is not what they tell you. The celestials don’t live in harmony and the devil is not as far as you might think. He’s vicious in his ways to seduce every being - makes even the mighty fall from grace. And one of them happens to be your guardian angel. When James is banished from the heavens, he is forced to amend his sins on earth. What did he do wrong, you might ask? Well, he fell for the one he watched over.

a/n: I thought I’ve read a FallenAngel!Bucky fic on here before. But I couldn’t find it. So please, if you know it, tag me. Anyway, this is my take on the au.

word count: 20.2k (good lord, someone take my computer away)

warnings: this might offend some people (remember this is my fantasy world - I don’t know much about angels and the whole shebang), soulmate trope, the devil, also God?, jealousy/envy, mentions of killing and abuse, banishment and punishments, he falls first (literally lmao), fluff and wholesomeness, agony, angst (of course, with happy end!), smut (wingplay, Bucky‘s got heavenly dick, Virgin!Bucky, size kink, cum play) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

all image credit goes to @animarvelita on TikTok (there's more at the end)

James.

Wake up, James.

Wake up!

The wind hits his lashes before he opens his eyes. He’s falling. He’s falling and there’s nothing he can do. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It’s eerie outside, you note as your towel glides over the countertop. The entire window of the diner displays dark clouds. Dark clouds that will soon bring the heavy rain Old Lee has been mumbling about for days now. 

Not too many people believe what the crazy farmer says but you can’t help but notice how much he really understands of the world. 

Nick hits the little golden bell by the serving hatch and you take the fresh sandwiches to a table by the door. 

“Anything else I can get you?”

“We’re good, honey.”

You just nod as your eyes stay focused on the small parking lot outside. You wipe your hands on your apron and return to the counter when the first drop of rain hits the window pane.

❁ ❁ ❁

Branches are aching beneath his weight when he crashes through the trees. A deep thud echoes in the woods as his body hits the ground. It’s raining. 

Every tragedy needs rain.

❁ ❁ ❁

"Are you alright, dear?" Peggy, one of the regulars, a wise old lady, asks and points to your hand that's settled above your chest. 

You clear your throat. "I'm fine. Just a frog in my throat." You nod with a tight smile. Something seems to have knocked the air out of your lungs. But you've been feeling like you are coming down with something for a few days now. 

"Must be the weather," Howard comment's next to Peggy, and his newspaper crumbles beneath his touch. 

You turn and refill their coffee mugs. "Yeah... must be." But you can't shake the feeling it has brought to you. 

"It's always the weather." Peggy nods before the door to the diner opens and Old Lee enters, his muddy boots dirtying the checkered floors. You scrunch your nose. You'd be the one cleaning that up later, Scott surely won't do it. 

"This ain't a normal April storm, folks." His hat tips before he sits at the counter in front of you. "You look like you’ve been trampled by a cow.”

"It's just the weather," you say and place a cup of hot tea in front of him. That's just Stan: brutally honest and strangely right about everything. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Pain is strange. His feet get caught in the thorned bushes. Golden blood is the only evidence of his path.

And it’s slowly turning black.

❁ ❁ ❁

The storm outside intensifies, the rain hammering against the diner's windows with an unrelenting force. Old Lee's words linger in the air, stirring a sense of unease among the patrons. You glance outside, noticing the darkness creeping in as if it's swallowing everything in its path.

A shiver runs down your back as you remember how much Pietro would have loved this storm. Your mind drifts back to the memory of him. He always found solace in the chaos of nature, seeing beauty even in the fiercest storms.

But he's is gone now, lost to you in a way that is irreversible. The ache in your chest intensifies as you try to push away the memories, focusing instead on your tasks at hand.

Stan’s voice is low and gravelly when he murmurs again. "You can't outrun the storm, kid. It's coming for all of us, whether we're ready or not."

His words are chilling, but you shake it off, forcing a smile as you refill his tea. 

"We'll weather this storm just like we always do." Peggy chimes in as her hand lands on yours with her calming touch. But your heart is hammering in your chest, still. Something feels off. As if a piece fell out of place, waiting to be discovered, and raving to make a mess. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It’s cold and muddy here, no comfort in sight. But he’ll venture on until he reaches you. His soul is pulled to your very presence. 

He needs to find you. Needs to amend his wrongs. Though is it really wrong to love?

❁ ❁ ❁

It’s dark out when you hang your apron in your locker and wave a short goodbye to Nick. Pulling your coat tightly around you in an attempt to brace yourself for the wind, you step outside into the deluge. The rain lashes against your skin, soaking you to the bone on your walk through deserted streets and cold concrete. 

You sigh thinking about everyone that made it home dry, probably sitting in their beds right now, watching the rain roll down their window pane with a hot cup of cocoa in hand. 

But that seems to postpone itself, you realize as you abruptly halt. You look around. This isn’t your usual route home. But something pulled you off your intended path and toward an unfamiliar alleyway. Confusion mingles with a strange sense of anticipation as you find yourself drawn deeper into the darkness. 

Your head is screaming at you. This is dangerous. You shouldn’t be doing this. Why are your feet moving anyway?

And then you see it. Or rather... him?

A figure stands at the end of the alley, obscured by shadows and rain, but there's something about him that sets your heart racing.

"Hello?" you call out tentatively, your voice barely audible over the storm. You hate how weak you sound. 

He steps forward into the dim light, his features illuminated by a flickering streetlamp. Dark hair and a strong yaw, wide muscular shoulders, his arms are adorned by silver cuffs. His whole being is well over six feet. But he seems even taller as something wide reaches from behind him, almost hugging his shoulders and prodding up towards the sky. He steps forward again and your breath hitches in your throat when you can finally make out the grey feathery wings standing from behind his back.

But you don’t run. You don’t even stumble back. Your feet are frozen to the ground. Then his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as you’re caught in the intensity of his gaze. 

“I’ve been searching for you,” he says, his voice almost like a whisper to the wind. Calling and marvelous. 

Everything inside you tells your how absurd this situation is. How fast you should be running anywhere but here right now. But the way your heart races doesn’t feel like fear. In fact, you’re not even scared. More fascinated, awestruck, intrigued. You know he wont hurt you. 

“I don’t know you.” You manage to stammer, your eyes still locked with his. The tension overwhelming and electrifying all at once.

“Well, obviously.” He points to his wings smiling amused, a smile that you know holds a universe of secrets and promises. You want to learn them all, you catch yourself thinking as your eyes slip to his lips. 

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to understand,” he replies and it’s the first time his wings move behind him. “Just trust that we are connected in ways you cannot even begin to imagine.”

“Well?” You clear your throat and cross your arms in front of your chest, relieved your body is able to move again, though the pose feels rather awkward. “Why are you here?”

He seems shocked for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected you to play along so fast. And, to be honest, neither did you... at least a little. 

“I need to...” His mouth falls shut again and he turns his head down to the side, shoulders heaving. “I guess I need a place to stay.”

“With me?” That’s insane. You know it is. But why does it not surprise you? 

He nods, you shake your head. “I cant just accommodate a...” You gesture to him and he clears his throat awkwardly. 

“Angel.”

“Right, of course.” You chuckle as you scan his body again. Only now do you see the torn clothes and bloody feet. Drenched through and through. 

You sigh. “I don’t even know your name...” 

His eyes are sparkling, the smallest of twitches making him look a little softer, tangible even. You’re not afraid of him. And it messes with your head. You should be scared, right? But all there is in your body is the steady tingle pinging from your heart back to your stomach. 

“It’s James.” His smile is handsome when he reaches out his hands, offering you a better look to his toned arms.

Whywhywhy? “Alright.” 

❁ ❁ ❁

James looks out of place in your rather small living room. His size dwarves every piece of furniture carefully picked out to make your house a home. He makes it look like a doll house just by standing in it. 

But he doesn’t seem to care. James ducks when he passes through the door and you watch his feathers ruffle as they press themselves to his back in order to fit through. 

You’re not sure what to do. Never in your life did you think you would end up in a situation like this. There is no protocol for hosting celestial beings. Though a how to angel dinner party guide would come in handy now. Did he even eat?

Something must be wrong with you. You let a total stranger into your house, even though your track record of people skills is not exactly the best. One that is borderline freakishly tall and has wings. Wings that look soft and beautiful. But strong and kind of intimidating as well. But why does he feel so safe?

“You’re staring.” James notes and a handsome grin spreads across his face. 

“I’m not really used to having angels in my house to be honest.” The sarcasm is dripping from your tone in subtle undertones. But James seems to enjoy it. “Why are you here? On earth... I mean.”

He stares at the ceiling and his wings sag a little. “I have a mission, dearest.” He tells and his eyes meet yours. They’re deep blue and stormy - just like the sky. You can see yourself falling lost in them. His presence is all-consuming, making you shiver. It reminds you that the both of you are drenched from the rain. A puddle has formed around your feet and James’s wings guide the water droplets to your hardwood floor in two perfect circles. His hair is curling at the ends, in the nape of his neck and the water is also running down his throat, pooling in the remains of his shirt. 

“What mission?”

“I cannot tell you yet.” 

You nod, even though you don’t understand. But you don’t want to pressure him. “Do you need a shower? Or... clean clothes?” The second you ask you feel stupid. It’s silly right? Why shouldn’t angels shower? 

Then again, the way he looks at you is one of surprise. “Yes, that would be good.” 

“Good. Yes.” With a sigh you flee through the hallway to your room in search for some clothes. 

❁ ❁ ❁

A shower. James is giddy. Human things have always excited him. He has been watching from the heavens for eons, never truly experienced them quite like this. But he’s intrigued. Especially when you offer them to him like he’s not an intruder in your life. 

If things were different, you would never know he even existed. But James is guilty of happiness that he gets to meet you in person. 

Up close, you’re even more perfect. You smell nice, your home feels cozier than anything he’s ever experienced, and your voice sounds just a sliver more comforting when its directed at him. 

He is smiling like a fool, standing in your living room - the one he knows by heart but so much more personal now. And when you return to him with a pile of grey cloth, his heart skips a beat. You bring him the familiar warmth that made him fall in the first place. But having you within an arm’s length makes all of it feel worth it. 

There is not an ounce of regret in him for being here.

Electricity shoots up his arm when you touch his hand. It’s cold and wet - he immediately vows to always keep you warm from now on - makes it his purpose to have you be comfortable for the rest of your life. 

You lead him to the bathroom, grinning sheepishly when you gesture toward your shower. 

“It might be a tight squeeze.” You point at the glass surrounding your bathtub. “But it’s all I can offer.”

“It will do just fine.” He reassures you. 

“I will leave you to it then.” James is confused.

“Are you not staying?”

“Sorry?”

“To help me.”

“Help you... shower?” There is hesitance in your tone, but James truly doesn’t know how to turn the thing on.

“Well, yes.”

“I...” Your eyes are big, staring up at him through surprise and nervousness. “I don’t want to intrude. Give you some privacy to- oh.”

His clothes are already on the floor. He knows this much. Shower is something one does naked. But you seem to be shocked when his whole body is revealed to you. Do you like it? James is sure he looks as close to a human as a person with wings can. So why are you still staring at his stomach?

His eyes catch yours as they move a little lower, your eyebrows raising just that much higher and a smirk places itself on his face. So, you do like what you see. He confirms silently. Not that he particularly knows why. He never noticed people by their bodies - only their soul, because that is the important thing - the one that never changes. 

And yours is the most enchanting of them all. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You watch as James sit’s down on the opposite end of the sofa. He’s declined every offer you have made for him to feel a little more welcome. But he seems content. His smile hasn’t left his lips ever since you led him to the bathroom.

You couldn’t help but notice his body when he revealed it all  to you. It’s like every inch of him is carved by the gods. He looks soft in the right parts, strong enough not to be skinny with his height. And his male parts. Well, they look more than satisfactory. 

You felt like a pervert staring him up and down while he stood there with this kind of proud innocence to him, wondering if he understood how proud he could be of his looks. There is so much you don’t know about him. It’s not like you haven’t talked. 

You have. But he speaks in riddles. 

“You are staring again.” James notes and you immediately snap your head elsewhere. 

“I’m just figuring this situation out, I guess.”

He smiles encouragingly. “You can ask questions. I imagine you’ve been eager to know more.”

You exhale long, taking courage to look him in the eyes. “And you will answer all of them honestly?”

“Honestly, yes.” His teeth find his bottom lip and you squeeze your thighs together.  “I cannot promise to answer them all.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

A comfortable silence settles between you as you think of the first thing you could ask him. Maybe you should get the most obvious one out of the way. Maybe you should ask him more about himself, though you’re not sure how personal he can get if he spent his entire life in heaven. You just assume there is too much to do to pursue actual hobbies and such. 

“Is there a God?”

“Starting with the light questions, I see.” You just look at him with intrigue. Already lining up all the other questions no-one else in this world has the opportunity to have answered. James sighs and then nods. “Yes, God exists.”

“Do you know God?”

He hesitates, his eyes fleeting to the end of the room and then back to you. “Yes.”

“Why did that answer take you so long?”

His jaw tenses and his eyes find the floor as if he was cursing himself for offering this situation. But then again, you haven’t heard him cuss once. Maybe you’re wrong. “It was under rather... unfortunate circumstances.” 

You nod as if you understand. But you can only imagine. “So, he’s like the big boss, only getting involved when things escalate?”

James looks caught, his wings draw in closer. After a moment, he clears his throat and his feathers ruffle with a small shake. “First of all, it’s she/they. And second, ... I guess you could say that, yes.”

“I knew it.” You grin as the pride washes over you at this information. “Why did she never correct us?”

“Let’s just say mankind doesn’t have a great track record of enforcing things that go against their believe... Not that it would be believable if someone told the story of meeting an angel who told them God is a woman.”

“Fair point. That person would have probably been burnt alive.” You nod again, crossing your legs and turning to him on the sofa. James takes a moment to rake his eyes over your body, making you feel tingles all over. You clear your throat. “Speaking of torture... Why do we have war and world hunger?”

“Please do not take this the wrong way. Those are issues that very much concern God or anyone that want’s the best for her people, but she’s busy. She manages everything else that has gone south since.”

“Since what?” You partly enjoy the way James talks to you as if you are an insider, but you only understand half of what he’s saying. 

“Since she and Lucifer had a big fallout.” He shrugs, but it just adds to your confusion.

“I’m not following.”

He rolls his eyes as if it were your fault you don’t know about this supernatural fight. “They had a disagreement. Lucifer’s response to God’s proposal was an ill-conceived frivolity which ended up becoming the patriarchy.” 

To say you’re stunned is a serious understatement. “You’re telling me the devil threw a tamper tantrum and that’s why we have inequality? How did he even do that?”

James shakes his head. “...Yes. The trial is still in progress. But it may be calming to know that we have not figured out exactly how he convinced an entire species of males being the stronger part of it.”

“No, James. It is not calming to know.” You sigh and watch as he clasps his hands in his lap, his cuffs glistening in the lamplight. God, they’re big. You immediately scold yourself for thinking this, feeling weirds as the words of your mother echo in your head ‘Don’t you dare use God’s name in vain’. “What exactly has God done since then?”

The smile returns to his face and you readjust yourself on the sofa. “Oh, you wouldn’t want to know how this world would look if she hadn’t kept busy with sorting it.”

Your nose wrinkles in a frown, as you check the points off in your head. “I really don’t think it can get that much worse. Climate change, mass genocides, what else could there be?” You not at each one just as James lifts up his fingers and opens his mouth as if he is starting to count. 

But you stop him. “Pease don’t.”

“Yes that is probably for the best.”

It is silent for a moment as you try to process all the information you have just attained. It is a rather weird feeling. Knowing you know what no-one else on earth does and not being able to tell. Knowing there will be no-one believing you. 

You sigh when your head starts spinning from how crazy this day has been. James seems to be rather relaxed considering he barely knows you. His dark hair falls around his face perfectly, the back of it forming a cute curl in the nape of his neck and your fingers itch to touch it.

But you refrain, reminding yourself that he is a stranger - and an angel. Beside the fact that he has not once reached out to you, just randomly touching his hair would probably be the weirdest thing to do right now. 

“Can I ask you something?” He suddenly breaks the silence and you shoot a thank you to the sky for saving yourself from going down the mental rabbit hole of how soft his hair looks. 

“Yes.”

“Why did you take me in?” James’s eyes are boring into yours so innocently. If it weren’t for the giant wings on his back, he would almost look like a normal clueless and incredibly cute guy. And yet he just revealed outerworldly gossip as if you were discussing the latest celebrity TMZ. 

“I-“ you trail off, thinking about it for a while. You aren’t sure how much you can tell him. But James has been genuine from the start. It wold only be fair to do the same. “I felt like you needed me.”

A weird feeling takes over your body suddenly. Like a warm flush rushing through you. James fidgets in your peripheral and nods in understanding. “I did. I do.”

It’s like the reality of it all hits you like brick when a noise sounds from outside and his wings twitch, pushing over a pile of books on the cupboard behind the sofa. This is not normal, something tells you, and yet your stomach flutters in a way that feels a lot like butterflies. Everything about James is fascinating to you. You constantly fight the urge to reach out and brush your fingertips over every part of him. And for some reason, your mind tries to tell you that he would let you. 

“Why are you really here, James?” You voice is only a whisper when the rattling outside subsides. It’s probably a raccoon or something. But James looks a little nervous all of a sudden. 

“I’m afraid that is one thing I cannot tell you, love.”

You sigh. “I guess... I just want to help. Having you stay here doesn’t feel like it’s enough. There has got to be something you need to do.”

“That is very kind of you. I admire your bravery and openness.” His lips spread into a smile, his hand lifting from his lap as if he is about to place it on yours, but his fingers only strech and land back on the sofa between you. “But to be truthful, even if I knew what I had to do, I am not sure wether I would do it or not”

So he is a little deviant. You smile at the small observation. Maybe it’s the reason he is here in the first place. But you feel like you have asked James enough for tonight. Just on cue, a yawn escapes your lips. 

“You should rest. It has been a long day.” 

You nod, rubbing your eyes and rising from the soft cushions. “I have a spare bedroom. You can sleep there.”

“That is fine. I do not sleep.” James shakes his head as he rises with you out of curtesy. With his hands clasped in front of him he looks like a goth painting. 

“What? Never?”

“I am not human, dearest. My body attains energy in different ways.” You shudder again, blaming it on your sleepiness as you rub your arms when another yawn escapes you. 

“Maybe you can tell me about it tomorrow. I am really tired.”

“I will be watching over you.” Your name passes his lips like a song, sending another shiver through you. What the hell is the matter with you. You huff as you catch yourself again. It really never occurred to you how often you referenced to the supernatural... “Take all the rest you can get.”

“Good night, James.” You nod and wave awkwardly.

“Good night.”

You know James’s eyes are only you until you disappear into the hallway. But you cant help but feel safely watched over with him around. 

❁ ❁ ❁

They will find him, and they will send him further from you than he ever was.

❁ ❁ ❁

James hates the days you have to leave for work. He watches you with a sense of longing and resignation, knowing that he must find a way to navigate this separation once again. Though it is necessary he find a way to dodge the inevitable.

It’s the vexing thing about the celestial kingdom. They always leave one to find the laws on their journey. There is no book he could read on earth that could help him here. But he has seen the repercussions of disobedience, felt the weight of his transgressions bearing down on him like a heavy chain.

And yet, as he watches you prepare to leave for work, a sense of desperation gnaws at him from within. He wants to reach out, to beg you to stay, to keep you safe from whatever dangers may lurk beyond the safety of your home.

But he knows he can't. He's bound by duty, by the laws of God that dictate his every move. And so, with a heavy heart, he watches silently as you gather your things and head out the door, leaving him alone once more.

As the door closes behind you, James is left with nothing but the echoes of your footsteps fading into the distance. He knows he should use this time wisely, to prepare for whatever trials may lie ahead, but his thoughts are consumed by you, by the overwhelming need to protect you at all costs.

❁ ❁ ❁

There’s and angel in your home. And he’s so freaking attractive, it’s unfair. 

It has been a week since you found James. And despite the incredibly irrational decisions of yours to invite him into your home, nothing bad has happened to you. Sure, the first night you might have dreamt about him. He’s everything your fantasy books described an more. And you couldn’t help but let that tiny romantic sliver of you hope for the more. 

But James is more pious than any catholic boarding school kid you’ve ever met. 

He seems to enjoy a good joke and he’s quite confident. But he never once touched you. And while that should not be one of your first concerns, considering he’s a stranger and an angel, something inside you tells you he’s holding back. 

He never even flinches when you reach out to him. And the longing stares he sends your way make you shiver with anticipation. Yet there is no attempt to ever pull you in - even though you are so sure you were sending signals. 

Maybe there are no signals in heaven. What are you even saying? Of course there are no signals in heaven. You don’t even believe dating exists up there. 

“Yo, whaddup with ya today? I’ve been calling your name for a solid minute.”

“Sorry. Feeling a little off today,” you mumble to Nick and retrieve the food waiting in the serving hatch. 

“You can’t go home. I don’t wanna serve alone today.”

“Scott, there’s literally no-one here.” You gesture toward the few people sitting in their booths and sigh. “Besides, I never said I was going home.” 

“Don’t get mad. You barely texted me back this week. What’s so awesome about your home when I’m not there with you?” You feel the heat rising to your head at Scott’s comment. “You’d think she’d call me if she ever needed to hide something.” He mumbles to Nick who just laughs and flips a pancake. 

You turn to him with your fists by your side. “The weather is weird and cold, can’t I need a little down time?”

“Not from me!” Scott looks baffled. He’s your friend, and yes, you had other things to worry about than be on your phone this week. But you also knew he wouldn’t understand.

“You’re being a real pain in my ass today, Scotty.”

“Good, so everything’s back to normal then.”

You throw a towel in his face. “Shut up.”

“Cut it out, you two, there’s customers.”

Scott resumes to the back, effectively dodging his work and leaving you to serve the new customer. But your breath hitches in your throat when you look up from the counter.

James is standing in the door, already drawing looks of attention from a few people. He’s smiling back at them, even waving at a child before his eyes meet yours and your heart sets off again. It seems to always do that when he’s close. 

You rush toward him, wrapping your fingers around his cuffed wrist and he audibly exhales. 

“You can’t be here.”

“Why not?”

“Because-“ you lean in closer and James bows down to get his face to your level. “You’re and angel.” You mutter under your breath and the sexy smile returns to his perfect lips. 

“And how would they know that?” His eyebrow raises. 

“You-“ you lean back, examining his shoulders - only then noticing that his wings are not there anymore. “How?”

“I only show myself to truly important people.” He winks and you stumble back a little, his sudden boldness making your legs feel like jello. 

“What are you doing here?” 

James looks around the diner as though he has not planned this far. His eyes swerve to the counter and then back to you. “I want to watch you work. I enjoy spending time with you.”

“But you can’t be here without ordering.”

“Then I will oder.”

“You don’t eat, James. Do you even have money?”

That seems to surprise him. “No.” You shake your head and look at the tiled floor. James’s wrist is still wrapped in your hand but there is no attempt to hold you. So you drop it. Why did he even come here when he won’t touch you?

“Please, beautiful. Let me stay.” His eyes are genuine, his lips purse in a plea. All you can think about is how weirdly lucky you are that this Adonis of a being chose you for his quest. 

You bite your lip and watch him shudder. “Alright. Just sit by the counter and try to be inconspicuous.”

His smile spreads wide. “I’ll be as invisible as the air you breathe.”

You exhale and get back to work but unfortunately, his promise doesn’t last long. Before you know it, Peggy has chosen the seat right beside James. She’s leaning over to him at the counter and Howard just sits beside them with his newspaper in hand - as always. James seems just as invested in the conversation as Peggy and as you steal glances over to the pair of them, insistently hoping he won’t spill about his identity, you catch James’s eyes lingering on you. 

“You are a fine young man, James.” Peggy's hand lands on his, tapping it in a grandmotherly manor, though her eyes are glinting with something akin to longing. She whispers something into his ear you cant make out and James’s eyes shoot to yours, his face tinting rouge from one ear to the other. 

“And you are a remarkable lady, Peggy,” he clears his throat, his mind seemingly wandering elsewhere. “You remind me of a girl a friend of mine was in love with once.”

“Then he must have been the happiest man to ever live.”

Peggy’s hands tremble when she reaches for her cup of tea, her red lipstick taint the white porcelain as James watches her movements with a soft stare. He looks so protective of her, it makes your insides tingle. “He truly is, though he seems like he has forgotten about it lately. Is this your husband?” He gestures to Howard, who just slams the newspaper down in front of him, blank eyes staring at James while Peggy laughs and waves her hand dismissively. 

“This rascal?” She presses her hand to her chest as she tries to calm down. “No, dear. My husband died a long tome ago.” She smiles warmly, floating in melancholy when she continues, “I never loved another man since. He was a heaven sent. Strong, kind, always worked towards the greater good... and his looks were to die for, too.” She winks and James chuckles. 

“Oh I wish a love like that to everyone. Promise me something, James.” 

“Anything.”

“If your find it, never let it go.” Her hand clasps around his biceps, her tone a motherly sternness laced with affection. 

James eyes you again and it feels as if the air is shifting with tension. “My word is in God’s name, Peggy.”

❁ ❁ ❁

James feels the repercussions of his being on earth stronger every day. In heaven, he was miserable because he had to watch you live your life without him. On earth, he’s in agony because he knows, if he ever were to touch you, he would cease to exist.

It’s slanted. He gave up everything coming here and despite the fact that his wings stopped working the second he fell from the sky, he categorizes the uncertainty eating away at him as even worse. Hanging in limbo is more troubling than actually going to hell, he is sure of it. 

He watches you move about your house with the same longing look torturing his features since he realized how much he needed you. It’s laughable how dependent on you he has become. While you go about your life with the minor change of having a roommate, James despises the unforgeable distance heaven has created between you. 

You are friendly with him - you are friendly with everyone. James would even go as far as to say that you two are friends by now. But he wants so much more. So much more he cant tell you because even if you did know about his feelings, there is nothing either of you could do about it. 

James sighs standing from the sofa, ducking his head when he passes through the doorway to you. You never questions when he just follows you around. The soul bond probably keeping the curiosity at bay if it feels anything like his experience. It feels good for no explicit reason. 

You sort some bowls in your cabinet as he stands behind you, offering to place the ones higher up so you don’t have to struggle too much. “What’s heaven like, James?” You ask innocently through your movements. “Are there pearly gates and fluffy clouds?”

James loves when you say his name. It makes him feel closer to you than ever before. In a way, he equates it with your touch. Just as his saying your name is his way of reaching out to you. 

“More like endless paperwork and celestial coffee breaks.” Coffee breaks. He learned about those a while ago and he loves the concept. “But hey, the views are to die for.” He gets lost in your eyes, remembering how much more distant they felt when he was watching from above and he is thankful to be this close to you now.

You smile smugly, and thats when the heart race sets in again. He’s sure you feel it too. Because your eyes avert and your hand places itself atop your chest. 

You think something is wrong with you, he just knows it. It’s like the time you watched hours on hours of Gray’s Anatomy and then proceeded to research yourself into a frenzy about the sicknesses you might suffer. But James made sure then that there was not even a paper cut compromising you and he will do the same now, too.

He is desperate to tell you what it is you feel, that there is not much you can do and that he feels it ten times worse because he hates to see you suffer. But he needs to be careful about how much he reveals to you. 

“Oh my god, I’m getting paranoid,” you mutter to yourself and James smirks at your small slip up. He has noticed how you try to minimize your references in curses. It’s cute, really, because he knows how much you used to do it. It’s a little bit amusing, the small deviant trait of yours making him feel like he has found something in common with you and he’s almost proud of it.

You collect yourself, quickly, breathing in deeply and then turning around to him. “I have to run some errands today.” 

“Great, where are we going?” James asks with eagerness. Car rides excite him. He has always found them fascinating, but actually being in one is a whole new experience. 

You bite your lip and for once, James does not feel the familiar tingle in his stomach when you do so. There is sadness sitting in your eyes when you answer him. “Actually...” Your tongue darts out to wet your lip just for your teeth to dig into it again and an unfamiliar tightness travels through James’s body. “It is something I need to do by myself today. I hope that is okay.”

The angel nods vigorously, trying to ignore the pang in his chest. “Yes of course. I will leave you to it alone.” He steadies himself on the door frame and then heads to the living room where he grabs a book and settles on your window sill to look occupied. 

“It is nothing personal, James.” Your head dips from the doorway and he looks up. “It's just... it would be weird for you to be there.”

“I understand.” The way he adds your name to his answer makes him sick. But his body is feeling weird, not showing him the familiar signs of jealousy or anger he knows. It feels... warm and uncomfortable. 

“I will be back soon.” Your voice travels through the hallway and your footsteps along with it. James stares at the empty doorway for a while, his eyes shooting down to the book when you suddenly reappear. “Do you want anything from the store?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay.”

And then the door falls shut. But before James can get consumed by his loneliness, he puts the books down - something about an ice breaker - and heads outside to follow you. 

❁ ❁ ❁

But earth can be a lonely place. At least hell will welcome you with warmth.

❁ ❁ ❁

You didn’t lie. You were at the store. But now that you’re treading on the small path towards the grey cemetery walls, James feels the fear spread through his body like a slow and painful death. 

He’s hiding behind the trees closing around the park, watching you as you halt before a simple headstone. He can feel your mourning deep within his heart, tugging, yanking, pulling on the tiny strings that sting so effectively. His temple leans against the rough bark as his eyes trace your slow movements. You place a small bouquet of flowers on the soil before the engraved letters, resting your forehead on the gold stone. 

He can’t see it completely, but he knows you’re crying. You always do. Everything within him screams to reach out to you, to hold you and sway you until the world feels less taunting, but he knows how difficult it could make things. 

So, instead, he remains hidden, a silent sentinel in the shadows bearing witness to your sorrow from afar. He feels the weight of your tears as if they were his own, each drop a dagger to his soul and a reminder of the distance that separates him from you. 

And yet, even in the midst of your pain, there is a flicker of something else - resilience, determination, a quiet strength that refuses to be extinguished. It’s a testament to your spirit, a beacon of hope in the darkness that threatens to consume you both. 

As you linger before the headstone, lost in your memories and your grief, James feels a surge of admiration swell within him. Despite the pain you carry, you continue to preserve. 

“It’s really a shame you never have the balls to comfort her.” A voice whispers in his ear and James shoots around to be met with a redhead whose eyes stare daringly up at him. “Then again... I guess it would be kind of ironic, don’t you think?” 

“What are you doing here, Wanda?” All angels are made weary of Lucifer’s spawn. They are vicious and manipulating, carrying the pits of hell to places that least expect them and watch it all go up in flames as they stand laughing on the sidelines. 

James knows the demon standing before him. More than once have their paths crossed throughout time, but he is surprised to see her every time anew. He refuses to show any sign of weakness in her presence, knowing that to do so would only invite further manipulation.

Wanda chuckles darkly, her laughter echoing through the trees. “Oh, nothing much,” she muses with a wicked grin, pacing around James to take a closer look at him. “Just though I’d remind you of what you’re missing out on by playing the good little guardian angel. But who knows... maybe one of these days, you’ll finally grow a spine and take what you want.”

James clenches his jaw, struggling to maintain his composure in the face of Wanda’s relentless provocation. He knows better than to let her under his skin, but the demon’s words cut deep, striking at the heart of his insecurities. He feels the surge of frustration rising within him as his fists clench by his sides, the weight of his silver cuffs pressing against his wrists like chains. “I can’t,” he whispers, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I can’t”

Wanda’s gaze narrows as her arms cross in front of her chest. “Can’t or won’t?” She counters, her voice tingling with an unspoken dare. 

James hesitates, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. "I... I don't know," he admits finally. "But it doesn't matter. My duty lies with heaven, with protecting her. I can’t do that when I’m lost in the in-between.”

Wanda's eyes glitter with amusement as she takes a step closer, closing the distance between them with an unnerving grace. "And what if heaven isn't where you belong?" she whispers in a seductive purr as her fingers flick against his cuffs. The sound travels through the trees, making you turn and look around you. "What if your heart longs for something more, something... forbidden?"

A shiver runs down his spine, a sudden realization dawning within James. For so long, he has clung to the safety of his celestial duties, fearing the consequences of straying from the path laid out before him. But now, as he stands face to face with the embodiment of temptation itself again, he can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, heaven is not the place where he can truly flourish. 

“I don’t trust you, Wanda.” He admits genuinely, though the possibility of her words holding truth gnaws on his very soul.

“You shouldn’t.” She smirks devilishly, eyes flashing in a short glimmer of red and evil. “There will be consequences to disobeying celestial rules. But you will never find out if a life free of them would be more fulfilling to you if you don’t try.” She winks, setting uncertainty free within him. “Find me when you have made the right choice.”

As he watches Wanda disappear into the shadows, leaving him alone with his thoughts, James knows that he is standing at a crossroads—one that would determine the course of his destiny for eternity. And though the path ahead is uncertain and fraught with peril, he can't help but feel a glimmer of hope stir within him, a whisper of possibility that promises a future filled with love, and happiness, and the chance to finally be as close to you as he has always wished for.

❁ ❁ ❁

The night has broken over your small town by now. James has made it back with a conflicted heart before you came home from your errands. He knows you notice his silence as he normally enjoys to talk a lot to you. But you don’t say anything. 

He is just sitting quietly in the kitchen as he watches you make a cup of tea, wondering what it tastes like right before frowning at how scared he is to try a cup of hot water just because he doesn’t know what it would do to him. 

Wanda’s words come back to the forefront of his mind and the unease she instilled within his heart right alongside it. He has been longing to reach out to you for so long, has wanted to touch and comfort you in so many ways his mind began to spin. Especially after days like this, when you went to visit your brother’s grave. You would be crying yourself to sleep tonight. And you would get up tomorrow, wipe the sorrow from your eyes and continue to live your life as if nothing happened. Because you are strong and resilient. 

And James, even though he is finally present, is not able to offer you the solace you so desperately deserve. 

At least he thought so.

His eyes wander to the silver cuffs around his arms, feeling the weight and letting the subtle clink of them seep into his skull. He has never questioned why or how the rules of heaven applied to him. He never even thought about the consequences of breaking them until he felt the need to protect you. He never really cared until you became the most important thing in his life. 

Now, seeing the pain in your gaze, and feeling the guilt for being here, not soothing you gnaws on him, sending him back to a state in which he would kill to see you smile again. Free of fear and sorrow. 

You bite your lip when you settle on the chair across from his. Your eyes look dull, but James can’t help but think there is a question posed within them. Something desperate and restricted. Oh, how he would love to know what you’re trying to say. He is just too inexperienced with human interaction that he can get a read on everything just yet. 

James feels his heart picking up, knowing it beats in the same rhythm as yours, but he doesn’t dare speak, knowing his voice will betray him. Your tea cup is empty, your eyes tired, and he knows that this evening with you will end within seconds. 

“Good night, James.” You finally say, following the small ritual you have established with him as you wave at him weakly. 

Normally, he says it back. Normally, he guides you to the bedroom and closes your door promising to watch over you in silence. Normally, he doesn’t have a demon’s words ringing in his ears. 

But today, something feels different. As you gather your things and head towards your bedroom, a sudden surge of determination courses through him. He can't bear the thought of being separated from you, even for a moment longer.

With a sense of reckless abandon, and the words of Wanda hanging in his mind James makes a daring decision. Ignoring the warnings echoing in his every being, he reaches out to you, his touch barely grazing your shoulder as you turn to leave.

In that fleeting moment of contact, something shifts. A spark ignites between you, a connection so powerful and undeniable that it defies explanation. Time seems to slow as you both freeze, caught in the throes of a bond that transcends the boundaries of heaven and earth.

For a heartbeat, everything hangs in the balance, the air crackling with electricity. And then ...nothing happens. 

There is no rush of wind and light that makes him disappear, leaving behind only the echo of his presence lingering in the empty space between. There is nothing else welcoming him in wrath or absolute nothingness or whatever is supposed to happen if a celestial ever dared to touch a mortal.

He opens his eyes that he had shut tight without noticing. And you’re still here. In front of him, staring at his hand that is softly wrapped around your wrist. His mind is struggling to make sense of what just happened - or rather what didn’t. It was all a hoax. 

James feels rage bubble within him. And as you stand there, alone in the quiet stillness of the room, touching. He counts yet another reason why heaven was never where he belonged.

A single tear rolls down his cheek when he pulls you into his body and wraps his arm around you tightly. His heart beats violently, pumping the anger of knowing how much time he wasted not being close to you through his body. His wings follow close behind, sealing you into his warmth and creating a space just for you and him. It’s as if you are made for him. Your body tugs perfectly beneath his feathery white wings and he knows he’ll hold you like this for eternity. 

❁ ❁ ❁

He’s touching you. 

James is touching you. No, actually, he’s consuming you with his whole being, pulling you into the best hug you have ever received. His wings wrap around you protectively, engulfing you into his scent entirely. It’s earthy, and clean, and... heavenly. 

You chuckle slightly as your cheek presses to his chest, your head barely reaching his collar bone, but it just makes you feel enclosed by his presence from all around. You heart beats just as rapidly as his and you exhale in content as you realize that you’re not the only one feeling this connection. 

You don’t know what changed. Maybe you are not as good as hiding your sadness as you think you are. Or maybe there is a whole other reason behind this angel guarding you into the most loving hug you have ever experienced. But fact is, you needed it today more than ever. 

And James knew ...because he strangely knows so much about you. He feels familiar without trying and it is a weirdly comforting thing to experience. Especially after all you have been through. 

Hesitantly, and almost sorrowfully, you pull away from his warm chest. His wings loosen around you, his arms leaving just enough space for you to lean back and stare into those azure blue eyes of his. He’s beautiful up close. Long lashes frame his loving stare as his mouth tugs into a smile, taking yours right with it. 

“You touched me.” You say in awe as James’s eyebrows slightly raise. “You thought I didn’t notice, but I did.” 

There is a steak silence as his gaze travels over your face then roams his arms that are still holding you tightly close to him. “Should I not be touching you?” He asks carefully.

You can feel his hands retreating but you pull him right in before they’re gone. “I was just wondering when you would.” You snuggle back into his shirt and his hands cradle your head to him. “Is it embarrassing to say I’ve wanted you to do it for a while now?”

“Not embarrassing at all.” His chest rumbles with a chuckle. “I’ve wanted to do it even before then. I just didn’t know if I could.” The last part is a mere whisper that dissipates in your hair when his mouth presses to it in a feather light brush. 

A rush of warmth floods through you, filling every corner of your being with a sense of belonging you've never known before. Time seems to stand still, the world falling away until there is nothing left but the two of you, entwined in each other's arms.

"You've wanted to touch me?" you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them, a confession born of the unspoken longing that has lingered between you for far too long.

James's gaze softens, his fingers trailing gently along the curve of your cheek as he meets your eyes with a look of quiet intensity. "More than you could ever know," he replies. "But I feared the consequences.”

“What consequences?” James shakes his head as his thumb still lingers on your skin. 

“I don’t know.” You reach up to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against his cheekbones as you search his eyes again. It was stupid of you to assume he didn’t touch you because he didn’t like you. He was probably scared of what would happen if angels ever dared. The look in his deep blues tells you how worried he was. How long he withheld for the sake of dodging the unknown. 

“It’s not bad, is it?” You hand travels across his chest, feeling the muscles tense in its wake. “Touching.” 

James's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding against his chest as he gazes down at you with a mixture of awe and reverence. And once again, you would love to know what is happening inside his brain. 

With a trembling hand, James cups your face in his palm, his touch gentle yet possessive as he leans in to press his forehead to yours. You cant help but feel that there is something keeping him from you, still. 

“Let me stay with you tonight, my beloved.” His fingers tighten around your face ever so slightly. “Let me hold you and keep you safe.”

“Safe from what?” You ask in a trance as your fingers bury in his hair and you play with the thought of pressing your lips to his. But he has taken so long to hug you. You don’t want him to be overwhelmed. 

“Anything.” He whispers back and closes his eyes. A whole new warmth consumes you when his words seep in, blanketing you in cherish and admiration. If this is what being appreciated feels like, you will fight to keep the feeling forever. 

“Okay.”

❁ ❁ ❁

Oh how much the celestials have lied. Flying is nothing compared to this. 

❁ ❁ ❁

As you bustle about the diner, taking orders and refilling coffee mugs with practiced ease, Peggy sits at her usual spot at the counter, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she watches you work.

"Something on your mind, Peggy?" you ask with a smile, setting down a plate of pancakes in front of a hungry customer.

Peggy leans in closer, her voice low and conspiratorial. "I couldn't help but notice that smile of yours, dear," she says with a knowing wink. "It's positively radiant today. Dare I say, it's almost as if you've got a secret?"

You chuckle, feeling a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks at her observation. “Hmm, I don’t know,” you reply coyly, unable to suppress the grin that tugs at the corners of your lips as you tab your finger against them. “What makes you think I’d share it with you?”

“Well, I am a loyal customer for one...” She pauses as she thinks of another point. “And I am old enough to think the secret dies with me." Peggy presses, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Please, you know the entire town.” You laugh and Peggy waves her hand dismissively, though there is a proud smirk on her red lips. 

Before she can respond, a voice cuts through the air like a knife, sharp and tinged with bitterness. "What's all this about smiles and secrets?”

You turn to see Old Lee leaning against the counter with a grim expression. His worn-down straw hat flops over his eyes, making him look even more grumpy than usual.

"It's nothing, Stan," you reply, trying to defuse the tension with a forced smile. "Just some friendly banter."

Old Lee’s eyes narrow slightly. "Friendly banter, huh? You're squawking like a bunch of chickens in a henhouse."

Peggy rolls her eyes, clearly unimpressed by Stan's attitude. "Oh, hush up, Stan," she scolds, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. "Can't you see we're having a moment here? This is girl talk. Go and drink your tea like the grumpy old man you are.”

Old Lee shakes his head in response but wisely chooses to turn back to his drink. “We all know how the last time she came in here with a smile that big turned out.” Old Lee grumbles searching your eyes once more. “The frogs're telling me we’ll have another rain comin’ soon. You better be careful, sweetheart.”

You share a conspiratorial look with Peggy, either of you not sure wether to believe him or not. Stan is not one for sappy love stories, but he certainly hits the nail on the head with his predictions every time. His bold hint towards the last big death this town suffered glides off his tongue like a Sunday prayer and it ripples down your spine in ice-cold peaks. 

“That is in the past. Right now, I really am hoping we are talking about the charming gentleman I talked to the other week. He certainly is a sight for sore eyes.” Peggy’s eyes sparkle as Old Lee huffs into his cup.

She winks back at you and the smile returns to your lips, along with the giddy feeling you get when James is called into your mind. But before you can respond, the diner door swings open, signaling the arrival of another customer and putting an end to your conversation—for now, at least.

❁ ❁ ❁

A noise calls from the back of your house right before the sun starts its journey in the sky. You don’t wake as James tries to stir carefully with his arms still holding you tightly. He was not sleeping - he doesn’t need sleep, but he still feels groggy from the warm and comforting night being ripped away with the sound. 

It piques another time and now, James is sure, someone is trying to get inside. Within minutes he is out of bed, checking the window and then closing the door to your bedroom on his way to the back. 

He is ready to protect you at all costs, eager to show you how much you mean to him, but when he sees a touch of white beyond the window and hears the familiar rustling of feathers that accompany it, it only takes him a second to realize who has come to intrude your peace. 

Two men - angels - just as tall has James litter the kitchen once he opens the door and pulls them inside with both hands. Samuel, the one standing a little to the side, brushes his clothes off once he comes to a stand again, watching James with amusement and curiosity. “I see you haven’t changed much, James. A simple ‘hello’ would have been just fine.” He crosses his arms before his chest, his wings shaking the dowry rain from their feathers and right onto your kitchen floor. 

“Why are you here?” His eyes search those of Steven - a friend of his but also an angel ranking higher than James ever will.

“You know why we’re here.” He steps closer once he has composed himself again. “You are testing the heavens.” 

James huffs, feeling the anger rise inside him. If anything, heaven was testing him. So he goes on to ignore the blonde angel before him, willing his heart to calm at all the frustration accumulating at once. “Did you know it was a lie?” James starts instead. His voice is strained when he thinks of all the times he refrained from touching you just to keep you safe. “Just a way to keep us from initiating contact?” 

Steven doesn’t say anything and Samuel’s stare meets that of James again. Steven shows little remorse, the pride on display now more than usual. The supposed betrayal James has caused is nothing to the sting boring into his soul by the very man standing in font of him. Steven is cold, distant - when he should be a friend.

“I should have known.” James shakes his head. “Your duties have always placed higher than your friendships.”

“That is because duties are the most valuable virtue God can give.” Steven finally says and his jaw ticks angrily. 

James could never imagine being more loyal to a system placing as many restrains as heaven does. Not when he knows how good the real world can feel. How precious it is to smell flowers and hold the one you love in your arms well into the night. 

“You came here with a mission, James. And since your fall, you have done nothing but frolic throughout this place with your very own human.” Samuel is eerily still behind the broad blonde spitting one accusation after the other. But James decides not to comment on it just yet. 

“It is far more than that,” he rasps feeling the protectiveness flood his body. 

“We know. That is why you are here in the first place.” 

“What am I supposed to do, Steven?” James tries to keep his voice low, but his frustration is too great. Steven should be the one to understand better than anyone else. But he seems to have locked that part of him far away right now. “How can I amend a sin that is irreversible?!”

“Every sin can be amen-“ Steve’s eyebrows raise and Samuel’s eyes flickers from James and focuse behind him. That is when his heart beat picks up again. And as much as he loves you, he wishes with all his being that you are not standing behind him right now.

“Please, no.” He mutters and turns just to have you approach from the hallway with tired eyes. 

“What is happening? Who are you?” Your voice sounds sleepy, a hand rubbing over your face before you find yourself by James’s side.

“Angels.” He bites his lips, contemplating for a moment but deciding that you deserve to hear what is happening in your own home. A home he hopes to be part of forever. Besides, with Steven here, there is no ending this conversation without confusing you more. “They want me to abandon you.” The bitterness is evident in his tone. But he regrets it as soon as he catches the stutter in your heart.

“What?” It’s all you say, but the way you do breaks his collected facade. 

��James-“

“What do I have to loose, Steven?” his arms open wide. "They already cast me out. They took my freedom, they took it all.” His wings barely shake, just emphasizing his statement. 

Steve steps closer, causing you to slightly shove yourself behind James, his arm reaching around you, just not touching yet. ”But there is still a chance to redeem yourself.”

“What if I don’t want it?” James bites back. 

“Don’t act rash, James. Think about this.“

“I have.” Long and hard. Every night he holds you, he has enough time to do so. And he has come to the conclusion that nothing compares to having you this close to him... and only him.

“You know of the punishment placed for sinners who do not attempt to right their wrongs.” Steven is seething beneath the surface, James can tell. But he tries to stay professional. He can try all he wants. James has already made a decision. 

“What is he talking about?” Your voice takes him back to your presence. Your hands sneak around his forearm and hand, to which his body responds like a reflex. His fingers squeeze yours, his body seeks the heat of yours. Samuel looks at the interaction curiously, Steven settles for a disapproving taunt.

“I lose my wings. I lose heaven.” James explains to you, watching as your eyes open wider in shock. 

“What?” There is so much more behind your astound answer. What does this mean for us?

“James is banished from the heavens temporarily already.” Steven’s voice drips with authority, making you stiffen beside him. James hates it. And he doesn’t hate much. 

“Why?” You’re too soft for this, too fragile to take another betrayal so soon. He has just gotten started and he already feels you drifting away. Your eyes are glassy when you turn to Steven. “What could have possibly been so bad that you ended up here?” 

“You didn’t tell her?” Sam breaks his silence. The surprise is written all over his face just to be replaced by confusion when James utters his name in warning. 

“Tell me.” It seems as though his eyes switch between everyone in the room, trying to warn them all of what will happen if they take his opportunity of telling you himself.

“James is not just any angel.”

“Steve, stop it.” 

“He is your guardian angel.”

It all happens too fast. A look to Samuel tells him there is no ending this. Steven won’t stop until he has tried his all to have you turn from James. 

“And he committed the worst sin of them all.” You look shocked and expectant. The grip on James’s hands grows tighter with every syllable leaving Steven’s mouth. And James is silently cursing the angel in front of him “He killed a man... for you.” 

You stumble back and James catches you only to earn a warning glare from Steven and Samuel. 

“Brock,” you whisper and it sounds like the single word has taken the entire air out of your system.

Lighting brightens your house over the stifled morning gleam and thunder sounds dangerously in the distance. You’re flinching, though searching James’s eyes as he steadies you back on your feet. 

“You cant do this forever, James.”

“And what if I try?” He turns fully. “What if I would rather get myself killed than come back to heaven?”

“He wouldn’t” Steve is heaving, but Sam steps forward, Laying a hand on the blonde’s shoulder in an attempt to soothe his rage. “The soul bond affects her just as it does him.”

“What does that mean?” It’s barely a screech when you interrupt them again. Turning to James and tugging at his shirt, you convey the frustration of being kept in the dark through your features. “What does it mean, James?”

He sighs, shaking his head and then closing his eyes - hoping to escape this conversation. But it is happening. “It means, if I die... you will die, too. A soul need replace that of a guardian one.”

At this point, James questions his sanity. How could he have not realized the twisted ways of the celestial realm sooner? In an attempt to soothe both his aching head and your tired soul, he reaches out to pull you into a hug, but your hands swat his arms away.

James recoils as if struck, the sting of rejection shattering his heart into thousands of pieces

“You might think it wise to revisit what we offered you, James.”

The words hang in the air like a dark omen when Steven and Samuel disappear. With a heavy heart, James turns away from you, unable to bear the weight of your disappointment any longer.

As you walk away, James is torn between the desire to comfort you and the fear of causing you further pain. But when he reaches out to touch you, once more, your tears are a silent testament to the rift that now lies between you. 

"I... I'm sorry," he stammers, his voice choked with emotion. It’s a desperate attempt to fix this, even if he does not know how.

“Go, James. Please. I need time to understand all this-”

“I can help you.”

“-alone. I want to be alone.” You swallow hard. “Leave, please.” Your tears finally spill and James despises that he is at fault of them.

“Go.”

Feeling more abandoned than ever, James leaves you to your grief, the weight of his actions weighing heavily on his soul. In that moment, he realizes that the price of his newfound freedom may be greater than he ever imagined, leaving him trapped in a prison of his own making, forever haunted by the memory of the one he could never save.

He knows there are not many ways to fix this. But he is determined to find the one that will.

❁ ❁ ❁

He doesn’t remember earth to be quite this cold. 

Find me when you have made the right choice. The words keep ringing in his head. 

A little warmth would feel nice now.

❁ ❁ ❁

You were angry when you told James to leave. Angry, and hurt, and confused, and shocked, and fucking tired of it all. 

But now that he is gone, an unfamiliar emptiness has taken its place where your tingles used to be. Everything makes so much sense now. The weirdly familiar feeling. The sense of security around him - a total stranger at the time, who obviously possessed more strength than you could ever imagine. The instant pull from his heart to yours. 

The quiet of your house seems to close in on you. The walls feel tighter, the rooms emptier. Every corner holds a memory of James, a reminder of the presence that had once filled your life with warmth and mystery. His laugh echoing in the hallway, his silhouette framed in the morning light through the kitchen window, the way he seemed to know when you needed comfort before you even realized it yourself.

You sit at the table, staring at your untouched cup of coffee, replaying moments in your mind. The time he effortlessly carried your groceries when you insisted you could manage alone. The nights he stayed up with you, talking about everything and nothing, his voice soothing and familiar. The way he looked at you, as if you were the center of his universe.

The days seem endless without him. Simple tasks feel monumental in the absence of his reassuring presence. You find yourself hesitating before making decisions, second-guessing your choices, yearning for the silent support he always provided. The realization hits you: you had built your life around him, around the safety and stability he brought, even without knowing the full truth of who he was.

You cannot deny that a big part of you misses him despite all the lies he told you. Well, not lies entirely. You know he has always been truthful to you ...he just never told the whole truth until he was forced to.

And even though the other two angels who visited made him reveal his secrets to you, you feel like there is so much more to discover still. 

Your hand settles over your heart, trying to pull the constant racing around James back into existence. But it beats in profound silence, acting as though nothing has happened, when - in fact - everything has changed. James came into your life and unapologetically took your heart away. You don’t want it back. You want him back. Heart or not, your souls are connected. And now that he is gone, you know what you have truly been missing all this time. 

With a sigh, you rise form your chair and grab your keys, determined to find a way to help James out of the trouble he has caused because of you. A shiver runs down your spine at the memories of it all. James’s sin had good intentions, you know this much. But two people died at the time of it - though only one deserves your mourning. 

You pull your door closed and make your way to town hall. The entire left wing of the building is dedicated to the library and you are destined to find out more about the man who crashed into your life and took your heart away... and then disappeared. 

The library is quiet, the soft rustling of pages and the occasional whisper the only sounds that break the stillness. You approach the counter, where a librarian is meticulously organizing a stack of book. She looks up as you approach, her kind eyes lighting up with curiosity. 

“Hello, dear,” she says warmly. How can I help you today?”

You hesitate for a moment but then you decide to just start at the beginning. “I’m looking for some texts about angels,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. “More specifically fallen angels... and the consequences of disobeying.”

The librarian raises an eyebrow and a look close to amusement and happiness reaches over her face. “That’s a rather specific topic,” she muses and your brow begins to sweat. Maybe this was a stupid idea. The woman is still eyeing you with a smolder, but then, as if you pushed a button, she shrugges and begins to type away on her computer. “Good thing it’s my job to get you exactly what you need.”

She nods slowly after a little while. “We do have some old texts and legends about angels. Let me show you.” With that, she lifts her body out of the office chair behind the desk and leads you to the far end of the library. It’s a quiet corner where the oldest books are kept. She pulls an ancient-looking leather-bound volume from a high shelf. For the place it has been kept, it is surprisingly dust-free. 

With a smile, she hands it to you and then wishes you ‘happy hunting’.

The book is heavy in your hands. The front is embossed in golden letters. Your fingers trace over it, feeling every ridge and dip. ‘Legends of the Divine and Fallen’, the title reads. 

When you flip through the pages, the book’s well-worn smell engulfs you and something inside you shifts. You brother loved old books. The one in your hand brings you right back to when you were kids. Pietro had a whole wall of shelves filled with his favorite stories. And more so than often, you snuck inside when he was out with his friends, grabbing one whose cover intrigued you the most and then getting lost in the pages until he came back and read it to you. 

He sparked your interest in reading - made you the bookworm you are today. And finally, probably caused you to jump into this adventure with James in hopes of finally living inside on of your fantasy worlds. 

You eyes get caught by a story in the book, your thumbs halting and fully opening the page as intrigue tingles in your entire body with every word you read. 

The Tale of Buchariel: The Curious Angel

In the celestial realms, where light and harmony prevail, there existed an angel named Buchariel. Renowned for his loyalty and dedication, Buchariel was also marked by an insatiable curiosity. His yearning to understand the world beyond the heavenly gates set him apart from his brethren, who were content to serve without question.

One fateful day, driven by an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, Buchariel descended to the mortal realm without divine permission. His eyes beheld the beauty and chaos of humanity, the joys and sorrows that defined their existence. It was in this realm, teeming with life and temptation, that Buchariel's fate took a dark turn.

As Buchariel wandered the earth, a demon of cunning and allure took notice of the angel's presence. This demon, skilled in the art of seduction, approached Buchariel with promises of forbidden knowledge and experiences that no celestial being had ever known. Blinded by his curiosity, Buchariel succumbed to the demon's temptations, engaging in acts that defied the sacred laws of the heavens.

Word of Buchariel's fall reached the celestial realm, and the angels were dispatched to retrieve their wayward brother. They arrived in time to save Buchariel from complete corruption, pulling him from the demon's grasp and returning him to the realm of light. However, the consequences of his actions could not be undone.

The celestial court declared Buchariel's punishment. He was stripped of his rank and given an ultimatum: he could return to heaven only if he vowed never to betray the divine will again. God, in His infinite mercy, offered Buchariel a chance at redemption. He was to serve as a guardian angel, watching over humanity and guiding them towards righteousness. In this duty, he could be close to the world, yet stay obedient to heaven. 

Buchariel accepted his fate, grateful for the opportunity to make amends. Yet, the legend speaks of the angel's perpetual struggle. Constantly exposed to the allure of the mortal world, Buchariel walked a fine line between duty and desire. His heart, once pure and untainted, now carried the scars of his past transgressions.

Eons passed, and Buchariel's vigilance never wavered, but neither did the temptations. His soul remained in perpetual conflict, torn between his heavenly duty and the memories of earthly sensations. The legend warns that Buchariel's fall could occur once more, for the battle within him is eternal. He is an angel forever on the edge of sin, a guardian who knows the weight of temptation, and a being who understands the cost of free will.

Thus, the tale of Buchariel serves as both a caution and a beacon. It reminds all who hear it of the delicate balance between obedience and desire, and the endless journey towards redemption that even the most divine must undertake.

A chill runs down your spine as you realize the parallels between the legend and James. The delicate balance between obedience and desire - serving and sinning. James did sin again. When he killed the man who ended your brother’s life. 

You sit in silence, the weight of your realization settling over you like a shroud. It’s clear that Jame’s story resembles that of Buchariel in too many ways to be a coincidence. He was weirdly comfortable on earth, now that you think about it. For Christ's sake he even told you he had met God ‘under rather unfortunate circumstances’. If what the legend says is true, unfortunate is the understatement of the century. Now you cant help but wonder what price he might pay for his defiance.

❁ ❁ ❁

The diner hums with its usual activity, the clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversations fill the air. You move mechanically from table to table, refilling coffee cups and taking orders, but your mind is elsewhere, clouded with thoughts of James and the emptiness his absence has left behind.

Peggy, sitting at her usual spot at the counter, watches you with concern etched on her face. She waits until you pass by her with the coffee pot before speaking up.

"What's happened to that smile of yours, dear?" Peggy asks, her voice soft and maternal. "You used to light up this place."

You force a smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "Just tired, Peggy. You know how it is."

Peggy's eyes narrow, not buying your excuse for a second. "Tired, my foot. Something's bothering you. You can talk to me, you know."

Before you can respond, Scott chimes in with a smirk. "At least now I know you’re back to normal," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Thought you were gonna float away with all that grinning you were doing."

You shoot Scott a glare, feeling a mix of irritation and sadness. "Thanks, Scott. Really helpful."

“Always at your service” He tips his nonexistent hat, almost bringing a chuckle up within you. In his own way, he never faisl to cheer you up a little.

Peggy waves a dismissive hand at Scott and turns her full attention back to you. "Don't mind him, honey.” She leans in closer, her expression softening. "But seriously, what's going on? I haven't seen you this down in a while."

You sigh, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. "It's complicated, Peggy. Someone important to me... well, they're not around anymore. And it's just... hard."

Peggy reaches out and pats your hand gently. “We all miss Pietro, dear. Losing someone is never easy... especially after all you’ve been through.”

You nod, grateful for her kindness, but the ache in your chest remains. You can't bring yourself to tell her it’s not your brother you are mourning at this time. "I appreciate that."

The hustle and bustle of the diner continues around you, but for a brief moment, you feel a small measure of comfort in Peggy's concern.

As you turn to refill another customer's coffee, Peggy's words linger in your mind. Maybe opening up a bit more wouldn't be such a bad idea. Maybe, just maybe, sharing the burden could help ease the pain of James's absence, even if only a little. But who should you talk to? The only person you were every really close with is gone...

❁ ❁ ❁

Yet another day passes in which you worry yourself tired. The house feels emptier than ever, the silence pressing in on you as you move through the rooms like a ghost. You try to distract yourself with chores and routines, but your thoughts always circle back to James. Wondering if he’s safe or thinking about you.

You sink into the worn armchair by the window, your favorite spot to watch the world outside. But tonight, the familiar view brings no comfort. The sky is a dark canvas, the stars hidden behind thick clouds. You hug your knees to your chest, feeling the loneliness wrap around you like a suffocating blanket as Old Lee’s words echo in your mind once again. 

A quiet sob calls into the empty room - barely audible. And then the tears start falling down your face in constant streams. The memory of his touch, his warmth, his presence, feels like a distant dream. You close your eyes, trying to recall the feeling of James's arms around you, the sound of his heartbeat against yours. It's a comfort and a torment all at once.

You haven’t cried like this since Pietro died... No, actually, you did when the message of Brock’s death reached you. But those were tears of relief rather than pain. 

A sudden chill sweeps through the room, at the memory of the man who tormented your life in more ways than one. You open your eyes, frowning as you notice that it’s not only the thought of Brock making you feel this way. The air seems to crackle with an otherworldly energy. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you feel a strange pull, a familiar yet eerie sensation that makes your heart race.

You stand up slowly, your breath hitching in your throat. The room feels alive with a palpable tension, as if the very fabric of reality is shifting. You turn around, your eyes scanning the dimly lit space.

And then you see him.

❁ ❁ ❁

James stands before you, his presence both startling and comforting, he notes as your herts sync again. His eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of relief and sorrow. You look as if you've been through a storm, yet there is a resolute strength in your gaze that anchors him. He probably doesn’t look much better, considering he in fact has been in said storm. But he’d do anything to come back to you. 

"James," you breathe, your voice trembling with emotion. "You're here.”

He steps forward, closing the distance between you. "I’m here," he says softly, his voice carrying the weight of all the unspoken words and unshared moments.

You reach out, your hand trembling as it touches his cheek, as if verifying that he is real and not another figment of your imagination. Your skin is cold and the sensation sends a flood of emotions through him.

"Where have you been?" you ask, your voice cracking with the weight of your worry.

“It is a long story," he replies, his hand covering yours. "But right now, all that matters is that I'm here. With you.”

In that moment, the world outside fades away, and all that exists is the space between you and James. The silence is filled with unspoken promises and the electric charge of a reunion long overdue. 

When you fall into his arms crying, his knees feel like giving out. He has had a long journey behind him, but he would die before showing you weakness when you need him the most. “I thought I would never see you again!” You cry even harder and James wraps his arms around you with loving pressure.

“I’m here,” he tries to soothe you. His wings come around you once again in search for the calmness that washes over him when he realizes you feel safe. 

“I don’t think I can do without you anymore.” Your voice is muffled against his chest but his heart leaps at your confession. Warmth spreads throughout his body as the realization hits that you finally feel close to the emotions he has harbored for you for so long. 

James wants to promise you that he’ll never leave again. He wants to tell you that there is nothing worth losing you. Not the most tempting offer to ever exist. He wants to hold you forever, in fact, do more than just hold you and give into the feeling he has only ever heard about from demons and sinners. 

But he can’t. Because he knows it would not be true. 

His feud with heaven is far from over. And the journey he plans to venture holds great unknown. So, he settles for the one thing he can tell you with certainty. 

“I cannot be without you, either, my beloved. There is so much I want to experience with you but the most important of them all is love. I love you, with my entire soul and heart. I cannot deny you this truth any longer. I have done the unspeakable because of it and you deserve to know.”

You eyes look up at him widely, a question in them that has waited long enough to be asked. “Brock’s death wasn’t an accident,” you whisper, but your posture remains steady. There is no pain or sorrow in your face. Just pure, plain curiosity.

“They told me he was mugged and thrown in the river. But it never made sense to me.” You pull a little out of his touch and James lets you even though his entire body screams to keep you close. “This town is too small to be mugged in. He was killed with a single stab to his heart. A mugger would never be so efficient.”

You gleam at him, seemingly waiting for him to confirm. But James stands in your presence with a sense of pride. He does not regret is transgression, not when it meant keeping you safe - which was and still is his greatest aim. 

“The way he was found was too peaceful to be from a robbery, either.” You tell him shaking your head. “How can you make a murder look so respectful and honest?” 

“I am sorry if I have upset you, dearest-“

“You haven’t. Brock Rumlow was a bad man. It took me a long time to notice, but he was abusing and ill-driven. If anything, I am upset I couldn’t thank you sooner that he is gone.”

“I had played with the though of removing him from the face of the earth for quite some time,” James confesses, feeling all the secret’s weight rolling off him like avalanches. “From the moment he first screamed at you... to the time he laid his hands on you. But I knew you were strong. I was so proud of you for getting up each day and moving on. I would have never acted had he not hurt you in a way even i could feel throught the very bond that ties our souls together. I knew you could handle the hurtful words, even the hurtful touches - that no-one, and especially not you, deserves. Your brother is of similar cunning as myself. But he was brave enough to act while I was fearing the consequences of testing celestial rule once more.” 

James catches the new tears rushing down your cheeks. But he wont stop telling you. He knows you need to hear it. It hurts him to revisit the memory of watching Pietro die in his quest to secure your freedom. “I was trying to honor you brother as much as ensure your safety when I... killed Brock.” He clears his throat and takes your hands in his. “He would have continued to hurt every person he encountered. I do not regret what I did.”

“Oh, James.” Your hands reach up to his face. James bows down to follow the tug you apply to his jaw. “Thank you for telling me. I am not angry. And despite what the other angels said, I know you are a good person. I love you, too.” 

You smile as James’s hands cover yours on his face. Your foreheads are touching and the room around you fades into nothingness. In this moment in time, there are just you and him, and all the new feeling bubbling inside him that he his eager to explore. 

He’s known it for long, but now he is certain than going back to heaven was never an option. Not when you are still here. 

“I would love to kiss you right now,” you whisper in the space between you, igniting a heat within James he has never felt before.

“I would like that very much,” he confesses and as soon as the words leave his lips, yours are firmly pressed against his. 

The sensation is overwhelming. Your lips are soft and warm, moving against his in a way that sends shivers down his spine. His hands still press yours to his skin, unsure what to do and overwhelmed with the experience opened to him. You gently take them and move then to your waist, then a little lower, making him trace the curve of your body as your tongue slowly slips between his lips. The contact sends a surge of electricity through him, making his heart race.

The kiss is tentative at first, each of you exploring this new and wondrous connection. Your fingers weave into his hair, anchoring yourself to him as if afraid he might vanish with this daring protest against heaven. He can feel the gentle tremor in your touch, the same mixture of awe and desire that he feels within himself.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. Your breath mingles with his, cheeks heated and lips swollen. “Move your hands, James,” you whisper, guiding his hands to slide even lower on your body, teaching him how to hold you close, even though he thought he has always done so right. This is different. This is more.

He follows your lead, fingers trembling with the intensity of the moment as they squeeze flesh, eliciting a soft whimper from you that makes James’s insides stir. Or maybe it is not his insides after all, he notices when his pants feel tighter all of a sudden. 

Each brush of your lips against his, each caress, speaks of the longing and love that has been building between you for so long. James deepens the kiss, more confident now, feeling the warmth of your body against his, and it’s as if the world outside has ceased to exist.

Your thumb brushes over his cheek, and you smile, voice breathless. “You’re doing great.”

The kiss becomes more fervent, your guidance helping James navigate this new territory. He feels like he’s pouring all his love and devotion into this one act, wanting to convey everything he’s never been able to say. His wings reach round you tentatively, leaving enough air for you to breathe. He want’s to be wrapped up in you more - he cannot explain it.

James pulls back slightly, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “This... this is incredible,” he murmurs in a voice husky with wonder. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

You smile, eyes sparkling. “Neither have I.”

Your lips find each other again, more urgent this time, as if you’re making up for lost time - at least James is. The demon who lured him down the first time failed to mention this part of humanity to him.

“I want to show you more,” you finally whisper against his skin and at this point, James is willing to walk the sun if you asked him to. 

“Everything,” he rasps, his lips touching you with every syllable. He cannot get enough of your taste. “Show it all to me, my love.”

“I want to start with taking off our clothes.” You kiss him again, making Jame’s pants feel even tighter. He knows about sex and he knows it is what you are hinting at. But he has never experienced it. It is no use to angels, since they cannot impregnate another. In heaven, it is rarely talked about - and if it is, one is warned about it. 

Right now, James does not care why. He is eager to experience as much as there is on earth with you and then some. So, he lets you guide his hands over your shoulders, shrugging your cardigan off your body and letting his fingers glide beneath the thin straps adorning your shoulders now. 

His hands are so big compared to yours. He marvels in the fact of how much stronger he is, making him able to protect you that much better. 

James has no difficulty guiding the clothes from your body. Nakedness is something barely acknowledged where he comes from. But today... something about it feels different. This situation feels so much more intimate than it usually does. And he notices, when you kneel down to pull his pants down, his cock stands proud from his body, bigger than usual, and hard and- “Oh!” sensitive, he notes when your lips kiss his hip, your face slightly grazing his member in the action. 

With your head next to it, it looks disproportionately huge, but you don’t seem to mind. 

“This... I have never done this before.” James’s hands guide you back up to him. He is certain his cheeks are glowing red by now. He feels hot and bothered, yet so yearning for more of the teasing your face provided for mere seconds before. 

“Are you okay with continuing?” Your eyes find his again. 

“Yes.”

“Okay, good.” And when he nods, you take his hand and lead him down the hall to your bedroom. 

He has missed this place, missed holding you for the time he went away, but he can't tell you where he has been just yet. Not now, anyway. Right now, he wants to experience whatever you are willing to show him. 

You walk around him, touching him all over, watching him react and making him lean down only to pull back before his lips can get a taste of yours again. It’s beautiful agony and James is torn between pulling you into his strong grip and letting you wind him up until his balls feel like they are the ones squeezed tightly. They already are...

Eventually, you come to a stop behind him. He jolts when you fingers drive over the top of his wings, only for you to mumble a quick ‘sorry’ and coming back around in front of him. 

“Don’t be sorry. I was just not expecting it.”

You stare past him and at the white feathers protruding from his back. “They are so soft... and pretty.” You find his eyes. “All of you is pretty.”

He reaches for your face, finding pride in the way you nestle into his palm with a smile. “And dear, you are the most beautiful being the world has ever seen.”

“Can I touch them again?” You whisper only for James to now stare in awe. 

He watches as your hands pass his body in slow-motion. They travel past his ribs and reach carefully towards his wings again. This time, he is prepared, though his stomach feels tight with something opposite of worry. More of a physical feeling he can't begin to explain. He closes his eyes and lets your touch travel over them like a prayer. Your path leaves shivers in its wake and James lets his head hang, reveling in the feeling. He opens his eyes and watches his cock twitch whenever the tingles get too much. 

He gasps breathlessly when you graze the underside of his wings, making his whole body jump slightly. 

“Oh, are those sensitive?” You smile in awe, though your expression turns to excitement when he wheezes out his answer. 

“Very.”

“Do you like it?” 

Your fingers glide over the same spot again, making his cock leak, feeling like he’s about to explode. “Yes!” He grabs the sideboard next to him.

“I want to make you feel good, James” your voice is damp agains this ear and he bites his tongue before bursting. 

“You already do.” 

“I want to make it even better.”

James is not sure he can handle better. He’s already floating miles above the ground when you touch him in the ways you do. Maybe he has to distract himself to enjoy this some more. 

He could think about why heaven would withhold education of how amazing sex can be. That will make him calm a little, posting yet another reason why it was never the place to be for him. 

Your hands wrap around his silver wrists as you guide him to the bed, pushing down on his shoulders until he is sat on the mattress, looking up at you with intrigue and awe. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to ride you, James.” You straddle his lap and his arms immediately reach around you. 

“Ride ...me? I’m not a horse.” He states and watches as your smile lights up. But it settles a weary feeling in his stomach. There is a hint of mischief in your glint, and James is not sure he can handle it right now. 

“Do you trust me?”

“With my entire soul.”

You kiss him and push at his chest. “The lie back for me.”

And so he does, realizing - once again - that anything heaven could offer him pales in comparison to the love he feels for you, a love that knows no bounds or logic and that is reciprocated in your every touch. 

James watches as you scoot up his body until you are sat right behind his cock, which has not ceased to soften one bit since you kissed. It reaches all the way to your navel. But before he can take in the sight and calculate the size difference between you, you press him against your stomach, pulling another moan from his lunges. 

His tip is leaking more and more with every touch you gift him and James starts to worry his body will give out before he can make you feel good. 

“You’re so big, so pretty.” You stroke him from base to top, letting your thumb press into the underside of his cock and send shiver after shiver through James’s body. “I need you inside me.”

“I need that to.” His voice is strangled when you lift up and grind his tip through your wet folds, moaning with the friction he can only assume is the same for you as it is for him. 

In a swift motion, the head of his cock sinks inside you, breaching tight muscle and making him feel dizzy with the new sensation. Your head falls back with a loud breath that makes his abs tighten. This whole time, he feels as though a gust of wind could make him unravel, but something inside him tells James he should hold out - or at least try to. 

The raspy sounds escaping his throat cant seem to stop when you slowly work yourself all the way down his shaft. And the high-pitched scream you set free when his tip reaches another barrier within you makes him twitch and leak even more. 

“Are you alright?” He asks through sweaty brows. 

“I’m amazing.” You smile and lift yourself up only to sink back down into his lap. Your movements become steady, and when he finally gets over the way your mouth hangs slack, the rhythm you set builds even more pressure inside him. 

The room is filled with messy sounds of skin and sweat and moans and heavy breaths. You sink down on him again and again until James feels like he is on fire. But you don’t relent. Your pace never falters when you fall back and your hands grip his thighs, digging into his muscles until his toes curl. 

It’s too much at once and not enough at the same time. James feels as though there is a cliff he could fall over every second now, but he’s too scared to loose the sensations he is experiencing right now to let his body do so. 

“Touch me,” you suddenly say, taking his hands which have fisted inside your duvet until now and placing them on the soft flesh of your breasts. Only now, your nipples are hardened when you guide his fingers over them. “Like this.” You’re somehow fare gone and right there with him. But he does as he his told again, flicking his thumb over the pebbled flesh until your moans grow higher and higher. “Ah, Yes!”

It’s doing something to him, he his twitching every time your pussy squeezes him in tandem with his thumb on your nipples. His body is moving without the permission of his mind when he suddenly thrusts up. And then again. And again. Until you are mewling and crying on top of him, your fingernails digging into his legs painfully hard. 

James immediately drops his hands only to watch you stare at him with wide eyes. 

“What’s the matter. Why did you stop?”

He bites his lips in shame when he realizes he misses your constant movement on his cock. “Am I hurting you?”

You eyes possibly widen further. Leaning forward and capturing his cheeks with both lips and hands, you shake your head after you pull away. “No! No, its a good thing, love. You feel so good. You...” Your expression changes to a rather shy one. “You’re just very big. You should be proud.”

Something inside James clicks as you confess with another kiss to his lips. A smirk spreads beneath them when he curiously thrusts up inside you and experiences your hot breath gains his face. 

In a second, his hands grab onto your hips, his body turns and flips the pair of you until your back hits the mattress as gently as he can offer in his compromised position. 

A last look of reassurance when your eyes lock with his set off the urges he has suppressed so far. His hips snap forward over and over again, your pussy tightening more around him with every push. Your hands are fist into the covers, head thrown back and mouth open. There is no more sound coming from you at this point. And James understands why. He is as overwhelmed with the feeling as you look. When you grow even tighter, gripping this cock until he cannot move anymore, white pleasure as hot as hellfire rushes through his body, kissing his nerves from head to toe. He feels his balls empty as he paints your inside with his spent, only being able to lazily rut into you after a minute to seize every last drop of pleasure this moment has to offer. 

Then he falls forward as if a higher force has taken all the strength from his body, though careful not to hurt you when his weight settles on top of you. 

“What-“ he needs to catch his breath first. “What was that?”

“That,” you open your eyes, chest having with every deep breath, “was an orgasm.” Your hands brush through his hair and James finds himself purring at the touch. “And it was the best one I’ve ever had.” 

You kiss him and chuckle when he looks at you questioningly. “I guess you could say it was outer-worldly... or even heavenly.” 

James rolls his eyes but can’t stop the laugh from slipping his lunges. He pulls back and watches as his softened cock leaves your pussy, only to be followed by your mixed arousal dripping out of you. 

Trance-like, his hand moves to collect the fluid and begins to smear it over your petals, up into the soft tuft above it. He knows angels cannot impregnate other beings, but he is fascinated by the scene in front of him. It’s like a little testimony when he marks you all around the best place he has ever experienced, wordlessly rubbing and enjoying the whimpering sounds you make when he flicks over a particular spot. 

“Is this sensitive?” He teases with a smirk only to be met with a playful smack on his arm. 

“Very.” you say. “But I am entirely satisfied as of right now.”

James sighs and falls into the sheets beside you. “Me too.” He nuzzles into your neck and pulls you closer to his body. He does not care that you are sticky with sweat or that neither of you are cleaned up. He just needs to hold you now that reality has taken its place back around him again. 

“So, you have been watching over me for - what? All my life?”

James hides the chuckle bubbling up his throat at your sudden question. He still has his eyes closed, taking in the feeling of your nails lightly scratching up and down his forearms. It makes him tingly. 

“All your life, yes.”

“And have you ever meddled with other things that were supposed to happen to me?”

“Do you remember the year in which you kept finding pineapples in arbitrary places?”

It’s silent for a moment, but your movements don’t falter. “I always thought that was a weird coincidence.”

James smiles into the crook of your neck. “Consider it my way of adding a little excitement to your life. And maybe a small attempt to make you notice me.”

You push yourself up slightly and rest on your elbows as you look at James. “I like you like this.” You smile.

“Like what?” He’s smiling as well.”

“Less angel, more...” Your hand comes up to gesture at nothing in particular. “...deviant.”

The smile on James’s face turns into a proud grin before he leans up to kiss you tenderly, savoring the moment and pushing away the thought that has been gnawing on him ever since he came back. 

He holds you until you fall asleep, purposefully missing the opportunity to tell you what he has gotten himself into while he was away.

❁ ❁ ❁

James stands in the garden, the sky overcast and heavy with the promise of rain. He’s out here to retrieve a bouquet of your favorite flowers, smiling like a fool because he finally has what he always wished for. All his mishaps and seem worth it when he holds you in his arms at night. 

The flowers are vibrant and alive, and he bends to pick them with a sense of purpose, each blossom a token of his affection. Even as the first raindrops start to fall, his joy is undiminished. The rain doesn’t bother him; it’s a minor inconvenience compared to the happiness he’s found with you. 

As he moves through the garden, he thinks of the moments you’ve shared—the way your eyes light up when you see him, the warmth of your touch, the sound of your laughter, the way you writhe beneath him in she sheets. For the first time in his existence, he feels complete. 

James clutches the bouquet and heads back toward the house, eager to see the surprise on your face when he presents you with the flowers.

But before he can pass the threshold, an eery feeling spreads though is soul, a shadow falls over him but vanishes just as soon. He scans the yard, his sight nestling through the trees at the very edge of it and then suddenly halting when he sees Wanda leaning against one at the very far corner of your property. Her presence is like a dark cloud on the horizon, a stark contrast to the bright joy he feels. Her red eyes glint with a knowing look, and her lips curl into a smirk that sends a chill down his spine.

“Are you not coming inside, James? The weather will only get worse.” You shout through the house only to appear behind him to inspect what is keeping him outside. 

But James’s stare is fixated on the demon in your yard, his protective instincts setting in immediately, scanning his surroundings while keeping a close eye on Wanda. 

“What is going on?” You ask and reach your arms around him from the side. He can sense you’re eyeing him but he knows you see what he is seeing when your entire body grows rigid beside him. 

“Who is that?” you whisper into James’s shoulder as you step even closer to him, your voice barely audible over the increasing patter of rain. He squeezes you a little tighter, trying to shield you from the inevitable storm brewing. A quick look at your state tells him he should have send you inside. But It is too late for that now. 

When his head turns back into the direction of the demon, it is no longer in its prior place. Instead, Wanda has moved across the garden with impeccable speed, looking up at the pair of you a few feet alway from the step leading to your porch. 

“You promised me time to explore the likes of this life.” His voice is low and intimidating, though he knows its futile in the face of a demon. They are scared of very little. 

“And explored you have,” her red hair falls over her shoulder when her head ticks to the side. “Tell me, Bucharius, is it worth the cost?”

The demon knows of the leverage it has on him. James was sure he would follow through with his request from the start. But he forgot, or maybe just hoped, the devil’s spawn would gift him more time until he had to go and seal the contract. 

“You know it is,” he pushes though clenched teeth, hating how your fingers clamp around his arm already. 

“Actually, I don’t. But I would be an idiot to refuse an offer such as yours.” Wanda clasps her long fingers together and grins with evil. “Oh, I will have so much fun with your soul once the time comes.”

The angel closes his eyes tightly, hating the way the demon pressures him to leave so soon. But it is for the greater good, for him at least. He need’s to be selfish for once - to be able to spend a lifetime providing whatever you desire. 

“Just give me a moment, Wanda,” James says, his voice steady despite the chaos inside his head. He knows his flicker of happiness is about to be shattered, but he wants to hold onto it for just a little longer.

“What is happening? What does she want?” There are tears brimming in your eyes and James decides he has seen them far too many times to be a good guardian to you. It just secures his decision to do what Wanda came to collect him for. 

James presses his lips to the crown of your head before gently tilting it upward with his fingers. His gaze is steady, exuding a confidence while you desperately cling to him in your confusion.

“I’m not sure I can handle all this newfound angelic drama,” you mutter with unease, and James kisses you—short and sweet, a fleeting moment of peace.

Then he whispers against your lips, “Please, you handle drama like a queen. Remember that time you dealt with Valentina from accounting?” His attempt at humor brings a small smile to your face, and he momentarily loses himself in the warmth and security it provides.

But the feeling doesn’t last long.

“James has made a deal with the devil,” Wanda grins, her red eyes flashing with malevolent glee.

Her words send shivers over your body, James feels the ripples pass beneath his fingertips. You pull away from your guardian angel, whose troubles have now escalated to an unthinkable level. 

“What does she mean, James?”

❁ ❁ ❁

James’s silence is deafening. You pray, you beg, for this to be a terrible joke, but deep down, you know it’s not.

“James.” Your words are strained, desperate for answers, desperate for reassurance. “What is she talking about?”

“It is true,” James finally admits, his eyes free of sorrow but filled with determination. “I have made a deal with Lucifer. My wings for a mortal life. My soul when it leaves my deceased body after spending a lifetime with you.”

“What?” The word is a whisper, your mind struggling to process the gravity of his confession. Because your cheeks feel salty and stained before you realize what James has just told you. “Why are you doing this?” you ask through your tears.

“Because I’d give up heaven if it meant being with you.” James’s eyes burn into yours, the rain dripping off his wet face deceivingly. His voice is steady, unwavering. “I’d go to hell a thousand times over until my soul burns to ashes if it meant I get to hold you one more time. You’re everything to me. Everything.”

Another wave of shivers slip over your skin with the way he presses the last word. His eyes are fiery, almost desperate. He is trying to make you understand how much better this decision is, but you fail to see how it can. “You can’t do this. You are destined for more. There are many more to come after me that need protecting and watching over.”

“And there have been plenty before you, yet none of them have or will ever compare, my love.” He touches your cheek, but you push his hand away. Your heart is already aching when you watch his face fall at the gesture. But you are not made for these types of dilemmas. You are human for fuck’s sake. “I would spend eternity regretting not experiencing life with you. I am tired of watching; I am over feeling the distance between us. Going back to heaven means finding you someone else to love. And I cannot do that. It would destroy me, burn me alive, rip my heart out of my chest.”

“James, think about this.” Now the first angry tear slips from his face and mixes with he rain which has grown heavier. Dark clouds cast over the scene, matching the mood perfectly. Dreary and sad - how poetic. 

“I have. For far too long. I will never feel truly fulfilled until I can be what you need me to be: a real, tangible person that grows old with you.”

You shake your head, your hair sticking to your skin. “You have to believe me when I tell you that I exist only for you. My life was dull before you entered it, and it will feel like a black hole when you leave. There is nothing—nothing—I wouldn’t do to be with you.”

Never before have words felt more genuine than this. James is hunched forward, his eyes pleading at you from above. A sneaky hand has captured yours and presses it to his chest, where his heart is beating vigorously against your skin. 

Resignation laces your voice when you finally answer him. “So you’re just going to leave now? For how long? What if he tricked you?”

You don’t know  much about all the rules but one thing is for sure, the devil likes to play and deceive. Just the thought of James walking into a trap makes your stomach churn. 

“Then it was worth it.” There is something akin to content and fulfillment in Jame’s stare when his hand squeezes yours and his heartbeat slows. Though your’s seems to do the opposite. 

“No.” You say breathlessly. 

“I’m sorry," he answers, and wraps your fingers around the bouquet in his hands.

“James.”

“I love you.”

“James.”

The rain intensifies, pounding the earth as if mirroring the turmoil in your heart. James turns and lets Wanda put him in chains, leading him away. You fall to your knees, crying, the three words you have yet to say hanging on your lips for nobody to hear. He’s gone. He’s gone without the knowledge of ever seeing you again.

❁ ❁ ❁

And just like that it ends like it began: in tragedy… and rain.

❁ ❁ ❁

Maybe you are just not cut out for happiness, you think as you wipe down the counter with a frown. The sun is shining today, almost mocking your bad mood with every chirping of birds outside. Earlier today, you were so angry about the reflection blinding you inside that you shut the blinds completely. 

James has been gone for a week now and you already feel like breaking down over what you’ve lost whenever something is mentioned that reminds you of him. 

A few days ago, after a really rough night, you swore you’d never let anyone this close to you. It’s the perfect start for you villain origin story, really. Losing your brother to an abusive ex. Losing said abusive ex thanks to a protective angel. Then falling in love with the angel only for him to go to hell for loving you back. 

You heart cannot take another hit. It’s constantly breaking as you think about the torture and pain James is probably suffering in the pits of hell. There is just no more room for another person, another worry, or anything else, really. 

You will just die an old and groggy lady, likely still cleaning this very counter until you cant anymore. The whole town is going to know you as the weird woman with seventy two cats.

You shake at the thought of it, disposing of your towel and grabbings some plates from the counter to clean up some more.

“New customer is yours, freaking weirdo has been standing outside the window and looking inside like some kind of stalker,” Scott mumbles as he paces by you with his head buried in his phone screen. 

You just sigh and throw a used napkin into the trash before loading the dirty plates onto a kitchen tray. 

“I’d like a sandwich, please.” A voice sounds from behind you and your entire body goes rigid.

It can’t be. It cant. For days you have been wishing for James to come back, now you are finally becoming crazy. 

But your heart picks up its familiar sprint and your entire body tingles with hope. Still, you don’t dare to turn around. 

“Are you not going to look at me, dearest?”

Your hands tremble as you grip the edge of the counter. What if it’s real? What if it’s not? The uncertainty gnaws at you, each second stretching into an eternity. You’ve dreamed of this moment, but dreams are fickle things, easily shattered by the harsh light of reality.

“James...” The name slips out in a whisper, a plea, a hope. Tears sting your eyes, and you squeeze them shut, bracing yourself for the worst.

You take a deep breath and finally turn around. Truly, there he stands in front of you, with a bright and gleaming grin on his lips. There is one thing you notice immediately: the silver cuffs on his arms are gone. And he looks oddly free without them.

Almost trance-like, you round the counter, your had reaches out to him, touching his jaw, gliding down the length of his neck until your fingertips disappear into the soft curls in the back of it. 

“Is it really you?” You whisper in awe as you start to drown in the familiar blue of his eyes. And when James covers your hand with his, squeezing his reassuring sequence to your bones, you know. It’s real. 

“In the ...flesh.” he frowns but then smiles widely. 

“What happened when you were gone?” Your curiosity gets the better of you, but James just shakes his head and then turns his face to kiss the inside of your wrist. 

“Not here, love. Take me home... if you’ll have me. Take me back. I promise no more secrets from now on.”

You just nod vigorously, finally pulling James into your embrace. The worry raging inside you fades into insignificance, eclipsed by the certainty that in this moment, you’ve regained something intently more powerful - a bond that defies explanation, but feels undeniably perfect. 

“I will always choose you over anything else, James.” You nuzzle into his chest as you ravel in the warmth of his body and the security of his touch. His heart is singing the same song as yours and his head hangs low atop yours, pressing meaningful kisses to your hairline between every stroke of his hand on your back. 

The diner around you might as well not exist. All that matters is this connection between you - the bond that defies the boundaries of heaven and earth. 

“But tell me one thing,” you whisper into his shirt and James moves to better hear your low voice. 

“I will tell you anything,” he presses into another kiss on your face, still holding you close. 

“Are you... did the-“ you’re not sure how to assemble the questions inside your mind without being bold. But James seems to know exactly what it is you want to say. 

He takes both his hands from around you and guides your face to his until his warm lips press a meaningful kiss to yours. “Yes,” he murmurs softly, yet steadily, conveying just enough seriousness to let you know how important and truthful his answer is. “I did what I promised. I am yours until the end of my life, and even beyond, my soul will be seeking yours for eternity. But until then, we will grow old together and finally be what we were meant to.”

His lips latch onto yours a second time and as the kiss deepens, a sense of completeness washes over you. In James’s arms, you find the solace and passion you have been yearning for, a promise of love that transcends all else. 

“I can’t begin to tell you how much it means to me.” You smile back between kisses.

James pulls you even closer, his voice a gentle murmur against your lips. “We have a lifetime to show each other.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the echoes of a bustling diner and the warmth of his embrace, you know that no matter the trials ahead, this love will endure, defying all boundaries and transcending every limit. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Because at last, there’s noting more freeing than falling itself.

Lord, can we take a second and appreciate these images???!! Got me on my knees - and not for praying, I'll tell you this much...

Hello, loves. As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. I hope you had fun! Maybe... juuuust maybe if you want to, you could leave a comment or reblog on this post. New fics will be on hiatus until August, I have some real life work to finish. But please feel free to interact and talk to me. I love hearing from you! Take care, and ill talk to you as soon as I can. ~Meg 💗

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[fcthots]

I log onto tumblr sometimes just to see your posts lol, and I love all the smut content, but I was wondering of you’d write something for a reader who isn’t feeling up to having sex one night, and they’re worried about how Jason will react but instead of being pushy about it Jason just cuddles the reader and affirms that they’re valid?

(I might be going through it a bit and feel this would be nice to read)

Thank you!! Also I think I needed this too lol

He was running on that post patrol adrenaline rush that leaves him looking for any outlet of release. Usually one in particular. You. He comes in through the window of the living room and lets his boots thudding on the ground be your warning. Before he even closes the window, his helmet is taken off his head and dropped to the carpet. He’s usually so careful about his precious equipment but desperate times call for desperate measures.

The clatter of his helmet is loud, much louder than his boots. You can hear it from under the water of your bath. You lift your head above water, and by the time you clear the water from your eyes, he’s standing in the doorway. His chest is heaving. You can see the tight coils of his fists, the lines of tension in the shoulders, the clench of his jaw. You know what he’s looking for.

But tonight isn’t the night for that.

You don’t stop him when he kneels on the ground by the tub and takes your drilling face between his hands, or when he kisses you with the enthusiasm of a starved man. His hands trail from your face to your neck and then trail down your collarbones, and down more. You pull away.

His hands stop. His face tilts like a confused puppy. There is a slight worry in his eyes, and unspoken what happened.

The words are hard to find. “I don’t um. I don’t think we should-. Maybe it would be-.” His hands trail down to yours. He hold them in his and gives a light squeeze, an encouragement, a go on. “I just don’t quite feel up to it tonight.”

He gives you a small smile reserved for you and you only. He gives your hand a gentle kiss, and then your cheek. “Ok. That’s alright. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

You search his eyes for any sign that he might be lying. You can’t find any but just to be safe, you ask, “are you sure?”

He tilts his head again and smiles. “Of course I’m sure.” He moves his body to make himself more comfortable sitting on the ground. He brings his elbow to the lip of the tub and rests his chin on his hand. “So what have you been up to while I was gone?” The easiness of the question makes you feel a little warm and fuzzy. There’s just something about the casual tone in which he says it, like he wasn’t planning to fuck you not even five minutes ago.

“I’ve just been in the bath.” You swirl some of the water around for emphasis. His nose scrunches when a few droplets of water hit his face. You try to hide your laugh.

“The whole time?” You were hoping he wouldn’t ask. You’ve had to rerun the water a few times after it got cold. You just couldn’t get yourself to get started for some reason.

“Yeah.” You watch the calculating and searching look in his eyes. He doesn’t ask why. You don’t want to explain, not right now.

“Do you want me to wash you? I don’t mind. If you’re ok with it that is.” He moves to sit on the lip of the tub. You just watch him.

“You wouldn’t mind?” He’s already answered the question, but doubt lingers in the back of your mind.

“I’d be happy to. My hands really need something to do right now. Washing your hair would help.”

You smile and nod as you bring your knees to your chest. You wrap your arms around them and drop your head down to watch him reach for the shampoo. Maybe it was something in his training, but that man is incredible at scalp massages.

[peppermint-toads]

you don’t like doctor’s offices. especially not now. you don’t like the hypnotic hum of the fluorescent lights, the cabinets that’ve been there since the late 80’s, the pamphlets sitting in an acrylic holder telling you that you have options.

options. not anymore. because you’re sitting on the examination table about 16 weeks pregnant, waiting for the doctor.

“the baby looks healthy,” the doctor tells you, barging into the room without a knock. “i’m prescribing zofran for the nausea. the nurse will see you out.”

thank fucking god. you wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of this place. the best part about these visits was the walk home. they are usually quite pleasant. being pregnant in the summertime has its downfalls, but feeling the breeze in your hair and through your thin dress is your saving grace.

it’s just another bonus that you pass your favorite ice cream shop on the way home. you think you’ll have an affogato today, decaf, of course.

it smells like heaven in the shop, that cool, sweet smell from the coolers. your favorite. this is your saving grace, this affogato will solidify the day as a good one, despite the lingering feeling of doctor on you.

ice cream in hand, it’s finally time to go home. the walk is clearing your head already. you eat a spoonful of vanilla and sigh. maybe you ought to stop by the pharmacy for those meds. on second thought, that can be tomorrow’s task. you’ll be alright.

actually, maybe not. because you see simon riley’s stupid, bulking form walking towards you about a block away. fuck. shit fuck. you should hide. duck into the closest shop before he can come after you. but it’s no hope, you’re looking up and you’ve already made direct eye contact. nausea meds sound so good right now.

may as well keep going forward. it’s not like he’ll notice, anyway. you’re barely showing, but your white dress isn’t doing you any favors right now.

you’ll give a polite smile, duck your head, and all will be well. no stopping, no small talk, no—

simon is physically cornering you to a complete halt in the middle of the sidewalk, and there is nothing you can do about it. maybe if you curl your back in a little bit, the bump won’t be as noticeable.

“what are you doing? stop that.”

he is so gracefully referring to your posture.

“i don’t have time for this simon. i’ve got things to do.”

you walk sideways around him, and he follows.

“where are you coming from?”

you can’t help it. “you lost the right to ask that question when you fell off the face of the planet.”

you hear him grunt behind you and smile. great, no snide comments yet.

“you look different.”

shit. he’s jogging, catching up to you and walking by your side now. the breeze is picking up and you shift uncomfortably. the fabric of your dress is clinging to your stomach.

simon looks down, his intent is to see what you’re eating, but he catches a glimpse of your swollen stomach and freezes. he’s nearly swallowed by all the foot traffic.

“simon?” you feel the loss of him by your side. he’s stood still, strangers bumping into him and jostling his shoulders.

great. now you’re backtracking, when really all you want is to be at home, in bed.

“simon, what’s your problem?”

“you’re pregnant.”

time stops for him. he’s the father, no way he couldn’t be. unless you were cheating on him, which he highly doubts considering your heart is the purest thing he’s ever encountered during his time on this earth.

you let out a long, long sigh. “yeah.”

then you’re swaying, trying to keep upright and simultaneously swallowing down vomit. simon watches as the life drains from your face a bit. his hands are gripping your shoulders to stabilize you. his touch feels nice, warm.

“i need to get home,” you tell him with a sad smile, pained to be leaving his soft touch behind yet again.

“i’ll walk you.”

you nod. you don’t have the heart to ask him to take his hand off your waist, feels too good. and he’s keeping the world right side up.

it’s only a short distance home, and soon he’s ushering you up the stairs to your flat. you don’t stop him from doing that, either.

you also don’t stop him from pulling your favorite blanket over you after helping you lie down on the couch.

you don’t even get the chance to tell him to leave because you’re just so tired, and his presence makes you feel so safe. you’re falling asleep and quickly. he lets you.

he sits and watches you sleep for the better part of an hour. when you stir, he’s there, staring.

he’s in your lounge chair, chin resting on his folded knuckles.

“i’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

you’re barely awake and what’s he saying? “huh?” you say stupidly, wiping your eyes of sleep.

“i said,” he swallows, “i’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

you’re sitting straight up now, definitely more awake now. “i couldn’t have told you. even if i wanted to. you disappeared, simon.

he did. but he doesn’t have the time to explain that now. so, he ignores you.

“how far along are you?”

you tell him. he stands from the chair, sitting down right next to you. he asks if he can feel your stomach. you guess so.

things are getting a little too serious for you now.

“right, well. i had a lovely nap, and i’m feeling much better. thank you for walking me home, but i need to stop by the pharmacy and—”

he interrupts you, tugging your wrist when you try to stand. “i’ll go for you. i’ll do it, please. i’ll do anything you ask me to.

you frown down at him. “simon, there’s no point to this. please just go. it’s just… too late.”

simon’s heart is breaking. he didn’t think it could break anymore than it already has in the last few months.

“let me stay.”

he begs. you think there are tears in his eyes, and if you let them fall you know there’ll be no going back. so you sit with him, you let him kiss you with his hand on your stomach. you let him lay you down on the beat up couch he was always pestering you to replace. you let him pull your dress over your head and kiss his way down your stomach. you let him sink into you slowly and pull your calves up to rest on his shoulders. you let him cum inside of you, again.

you even let him go to the pharmacy for you.

[chaosandmarigolds]

Dreamscape

(canon? whats that? we go with vibes in this house. Fem!reader, based off an amazing!! ask....um this is just sadness, I'm sorry.....if you want to add more sadness listen to Chasing Cars (yeah I cry to that song 99% of the time sorry))

One day..

With a grumble, he adjusted to the sudden shift of your body weight, to where you were essentially laying over him, and out of pure habit he wrapped his arm over the small of your back- only for you to whisper a soft ‘sorry’ before standing up all the way. Which caused him to think, it was a Saturday and there weren’t any Ops he had been assigned, so there was no purpose in waking up before the sun. So with a tilt of the head, he moves to sit up, watching as you tug out the duffle bag from the couch.

Maybe when the war is over…

“Love?”

You almost jump as your fiance calls the nickname and you turn around, giving him a little smile, “Good morning.”

Simon gives you a look as he turns on the lamp and watches your mannerisms, the timidness behind every movement, “Wha’s goin on?” A valid question, what had happened was that you and Johnny were assigned to what Price lightly put as a ‘suicide mission,’ and what you didn’t want to happen was for Simon to force then add himself to it- as it would then decrease your chances of survival by that much. So you falter for a moment, trying to avert your gaze. With a panicked breath you motion to the kitchenette, “I’ll make tea! Oh! And let’s use the special type, the one we got from Inida? Yeah! Yeah-”

Of course, the echoed whisper of your name made you stop your walk and you slowly turned to face him, your face downturned, you were an awful lair, you were never sent to integrations because you hated to see people hurt. And it killed you to see him searching for an answer, to see him scared for your sake- and for the great and terrifying Simon Riley…that was saying something.

Once the smoke settles…

“You’re not going.”

“It doesn’t-” You groan and throw your head into your hands, “It doesn’t work like that, you know that.”

“No, you’re not going, ‘ll take the spot,” He was grasping at broken shards of sense because he knew the choice was set in stone that not even a sword made of the purest of intentions couldn’t crack it. “Let me talk to-”

“SIMON.”

You take a sharp breath and look at him from across the room, by that time you were fully dressed, hair tied back, boots laced up. Engangment ring which was supposed to be switched out in less than a week hanging onto your dog tags. It took a moment to find the words but they were able to come after a moment, “There is no talking to Laswell or the Captain, there is no loophole, there is no replacing, there is nothing you can do. I have it covered. I do not need you to come and save me when I can save myself.”

Maybe once we got ourselves picked up…

The silence was stiff, and he then finally relented, slowly walking over to you, tucking the tags into your shirt, voice hushed, “Johnny ‘ll take care of ya.”

“I did…I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.” He pressed his lip to the crown of your head, “Jus lemme think I can save you from everythin.”

You stay silent, then with a short step you move to allow him to hold you, “You can.”

We can move somewhere far away, within the groves of tranquility …

You give Johnny a dull laugh as you walk down the rusted corridor, his laugh echoing through your earpiece. It was nice, laughing for what felt like the first time in forty or so hours, the mission was not even close to being finished and you were already running on steam. So obviously it was time for some lame jokes, “As much as fireworks sound fun, I don’t think I want that in my wedding.”

“Gah,” He chuckled from his spot, waiting for you to clear the hallway so he could follow, “Ghosty woulda lemme.”

“Oh yeah, Ghost would have loved it,” You return with a bitten-back laugh, and then turn the corner, leading with your gun, eyes looking over the blood splatters on the ground and you then whisper, “Clear.”

Before you could even blink the hiss of a gunshot hissed into your earpiece burning with such a pain you had to rip it out, hand going to your ear.

With a staggering step to catch your balance and blink the tears out of your eyes you were then met with a gun being shoved to the back of your head.

You never thought blinding light could hold such peace.

I would prefer our home to not be the shadows cast by the towering and rickety oaks, rather it be in the sun, lightened by new lives we could live

The carrier came back with supplies, no saved hostage, just two bodies left mangled by the enemy no captain even- the craft had been on autopilot.

A message, a warning left within that metal body.

The silence as the door swung itself open. They had all seen death, they had seen things no human should have seen.

There was something about the sight of their teammates laying tossed on the floor of an aircraft that made Kyle turn away

That made Price need a day before he filed the paperwork.

Something about it ruined Simon.

A large house ideally, so that way we can have as many kids and dogs as we want, something to usher in a new meaning behind our names

Silence is what he use to hold peace in, yet all he could hear when there was silence was the what-ifs, did you scream? Was it quick? Did it hurt? Why didn’t he go? Why did he let it happen?

That day he lost the only people he had loved and it was cursing him, bottles couldn’t cure it, opioids didn’t numb more than he had already been, nothing was saving him. He summed that up by saying maybe he didn’t deserve saving.

A garden, lively with bees and colorful with every flower I can manage to grow,

He couldn’t bring himself to go through your things, he was the next of kin, as for Johnny- all of his things had been shipped back to his family, yours? They sat where you had left them that morning you left, your notebook collecting desk on the coffee table, mug still half-filled with water. Lipstick stain still on his balaclava from the last time he took you out on a proper date.

In a drunken stupor, he grabbed the notebook, for the intention of tossing it away, forcing himself to forget every tiny detail of what was. But something told him to open up the pages, so for a millionth of a second he did, yet the sight of your handwriting which you would jokingly name ‘chicken scratch’ forever ingrained on the pages caused something in him to break all over again.

A porch where we can dance in the moonlight

“Riley.” John seemed shocked by the sight of the former lieutenant on his doorstep, sure he had offered ‘anything’ after the deaths, yet he never expected for Simon to take him up on it. For the first time in two years, for the first time since he had to discharge him, he saw what he thought was a completely sober man before him.

It was taking every ounce of Simon to not just turn away, to say it was a bad idea and run, run away from the emotions, but he was going to this…he had to. “You wanna build a house?”

A library so I can put all of those books you bought me, somewhere we can escape the haunting reality of the past

A year, he and John spent a year of work on the house once Simon found the perfect lot of land not too far out of London. Weekends spent from morning to dusk, John’s kids helping when they were in town and Eliza, John’s wife, coming by with food and to do the painting. The foundation has your name forever printed within it.

All of it sounds so poetic when I scribble them down, but the reality is as long as I have your love I am home

A garden he tended every morning and dusk to make sure they were perfectly planted, large enough to where the neighbors would come by to pick bouquets. He would watch the child run through the stone pathways, wondering what could have been.

The library was filled with novels he swore to collect, writing your name as the owner as he placed them in the rows of the shelving he took careful time carving.

I will love you forever and always, Ghost-boy

“You built a good home,” Kyle had told him, close to ten years after all of it had happened, sitting beside him on the porch. He knew it was probably the only thing that kept him alive this long, so he was thankful for it.

Simon nodded slowly, “Thank you.”

(annnyway, that’s all! Any and all comments, feedback and all that mean so much! Thanks for the ask!! <3)

[ghcstao3]

Price survived the sarin gas inhalation but it benched him for quite some time so Ghost had to take over the CO's responsibilities.

so now Gaz joins Ghost and Soap on missions and is forced to listen to their horrible jokes on comms.

but one day Soap says something so smutty to Ghost that Kyle is convinced Soap's days are numbered but to his utter surprise Ghost rolls with it.

Gaz suspects that Soap's and Ghost's bond is deeper than they let on.

don’t worry, happens to the best of us haha. love this idea btw im so sorry it took me so long to get to it 😭

-

Gaz has seen and heard… a lot during his time in the military.

From having witnessed the much more traumatic gore and destruction and men gone mad with power to the decidedly less impactful crude jokes and stupid things soldiers get up to in their downtime, Gaz doesn’t think much could surprise him anymore.

As it would turn out, however, there’d been one thing that he’d left unaccounted for: his lieutenant and fellow sergeant’s flirting.

Now, he’s heard Ghost’s awful jokes before. He’s heard the offhand teases and ‘buy me a drink first’s, but without Price as the voice of authority, Gaz discovers that there is far, far worse to be said between the two of them—specifically by Soap.

The team’s first mission without Price, with the captain still in early recovery, Gaz gets the general sense of testing the waters. The mission itself goes off without a hitch—they couldn’t call themselves an elite task force for nothing—but the comments not meant for Gaz but still said over comms are certainly… something. Bordering on raunchy. But it’s fine, whatever, Gaz has heard far worse from soldiers who aren’t even friends, let alone whatever Ghost and Soap are.

The second mission is already worse.

Soap seems to have taken Ghost’s silence as permission to continue with his over-the-top flirting, and Gaz has already begun to worry at what point it becomes too much. At what point Soap will cross the line, and at what point Gaz will have to figure out what to wear to his friend’s funeral.

The second mission, none of the above occurs. They all make it out alive and with minimal injuries—though Gaz could argue his brain has already been scarred by what Soap seems to deem appropriate to say to his lieutenant.

It’s the same thing for their next few outings. Price is doing better but is still out of commission, and Gaz cannot wait until he’s back, it’s started to get so bad. He’s heard more than he wishes to forget. He thinks it’d do him well to have his mind erased, scrubbed clean of Ghost and Soap’s worsening banter, but alas.

But up until this point, anyway, he’s chalked it all up to the lack of Price in their ears not letting them get away with the awfully filthy talk and increasingly terrible jokes.

Gaz is fearing for his own life when it happens.

Mercifully, Price is green-lighted to go back into the field at some point during the task force’s current mission, so Gaz has been counting down the days until finally, finally someone with a voice of higher authority than Ghost’s can cut through the line and tell them to either knock it off or keep it to their own channel.

They’re almost in the clear, Gaz thinks, and just as he does is when Soap says something that no way in hell Ghost should be tolerating.

“—bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, LT? Havin’ me on my knees, cryin’ and beggin’ for mercy?”

Honestly, it isn’t the worst Soap has said these past few months. Not by far. But it’s the directness and very clear implication of what he means that sets Gaz on edge—because surely, surely even Soap couldn’t possibly outright proposition Ghost with a blowjob and not be reprimanded for it.

Yet for some reason, Ghost’s response is not keep it tactical, but rather, “Ask nicely and you might get it the other way ‘round.”

Gaz isn’t sure how to move on normally from hearing that, but he manages, somehow. The only good thing to have come from Ghost’s reciprocation is that it manages to make Soap go quiet for the remainder of the mission, unless there’s something critical to be mentioned.

It doesn’t click for Gaz right away, too focused on the mission and figuring out the most effective method of brain-bleaching, but hopping off the heli back at base and watching Soap drag Ghost off to god knows where is certainly telling of something that he’d missed all this time.

He’d bring up to Price later, he thinks. The captain ought to know if Ghost and Soap were really a thing—and if not yet, well.

They probably would be soon enough.

[janeyseymour]

A Lifetime Full of Firsts

based loosely on two asks from anons... stages of falling in love and being domestic and shit.

WC: ~4.8k

In every relationship, there are numerous firsts. Some firsts, you expect: the first date, the first kiss, the first time you say I love you, the first time you have sex- and those are always memorable. And then are the unexpected firsts- and those are almost more memorable than the expected. 

The first unexpected first was one that you never saw coming to become a monumental moment in your relationship with Melissa Schemmenti. All that had happened was you got a new job as a second grade teacher at Abbott Elementary. You walked into the staff lounge to simply put your lunch away when you saw her for the first time. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the fiery red hair that cascaded down here shoulders in gentle waves. 

“Why you starin’?” Her voice came out deep. “Do I got somethin’ in my teeth?”

“N-no,” you stammered out. “Sorry. I uh, just really like your hair.”

“Thanks,” she practically blew you off. “Now who the hell are you?”

“I’m Y/N,” you answered softly. “I’m the new second grade teacher they hired.”

“Shit, I gotta work with you all year?” she groaned. She almost immediately took a disinterest in you. She didn’t like the vibe she got- a pep in your step, voice soft and demure. She suspected that you would be out of here before the kids even came in for their own first day of school, and if you weren’t out by then, the kids would eat you alive and you would be gone by the second week. 

“I’m sorry?” you squeaked out.

“Melissa Schemmenti,” the redheaded woman told you. “One of the other second grade teachers.”

“Oh,” your mouth formed into a bit of a frown. You headed over for the refrigerator and put your lunch in there. “Well, I hope you have a nice day.” And you head out.

That was your first conversation with Melissa Schemmenti, and it wasn’t a great one. It wouldn’t matter though. Life had a funny way of playing out.

During development week, you paid close attention. This school was no joke- you knew that. Growing up in the area, you knew the kids were tough. You knew that this school in particular had a decent amount of turnover every year. But you were determined to stay- make the difference for even just one student like your own second grade teacher had made for you. Janine Teagues, the other second grade teacher in your triad, was just as invested in the seminars as you were despite the fact that this was her third year at Abbott. Melissa, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. She made it very clear she couldn’t care less- busying herself in any other way possible.

Development week was over before you knew it, the weekend flew by, and the kids were beginning to file in. You glanced nervously at Janine, who just gave you an encouraging smile. Then you turned to look at Melissa, whose eyes immediately fell from your own. Was she watching you? You went to say something, but now the kids were actually coming to meet their new teachers, and you weren’t able to say anything more. Instead, you gave her a tight lipped smile. 

You survived the first week. And then you survived the second. Soon enough, October came, and you were still at Abbott. 

Melissa was clearly intrigued by you and your work ethic. Any other teachers who had tried to keep up with her Janine failed epically and been gone in the first few days. But you? You exceeded every expectation with such grace. 

Until you had to ask for her help. It really wasn’t even that big of a deal- the teacher who had the book your manual was referencing before you misplaced it. So, you found yourself hyping yourself up to go to her classroom and ask for help finding it. Finally, you mustered up the courage and were finding yourself knocking on her door. 

“Newbie?” she asked. You still hadn’t quite earned the right to be called by your name by the redhead yet.

“Hey,” you sighed out softly. “Listen, I really hate to bother you, but Janine isn’t here, and I need this book for a few days from now. I’d rather not be running around like a chicken without her head on Wednesday.

“What do you want?”

“The teacher that was here before me lost the book the textbook is referencing. Do you know where I could find it?”

“When do you need it?”

“Thursday,” you mumbled softly.

“Newbie, it’s Monday.”

“Yeah?” you cocked your head to the side just slightly. “I hate running around the day before though and feeling unprepared.”

The redhead maneuvered her way over to her desk before rifling through a few things. She produced the book you needed. “Here, just borrow mine. The last teacher in your room set hers on fire when she quit.”

“What?” you raised a brow as you took the offered book.

Melissa just smirked. “She was batshit crazy. Promise you won’t light my book on fire, newbie.”

“Promise,” you chuckled. “I’ll have it back to you on Thursday afternoon.” You raised the book in the air. “Thank you.” You turn to head out of her room and back to your own classroom.

“Hey,” her voice stopped you in your tracks. You turned to face her again, and this time she wasn’t wearing the usual smirk. She actually had an earnest smile on her face- like one she has when she’s chatting with her friends in the staff room. “You’re doin’ alright, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” you smiled back at her. 

As you left, you felt your cheeks burning just slightly, and you couldn’t wipe that dumb grin off your face. You didn’t know why she had you feeling so giddy- maybe it was because she actually called you by your real name for the first time, or maybe it was because her smile was one that could light up even the darkest of cities.

That was the first time you ever asked her for help, the first time she ever addressed you by name, the first time you fell in love with that smile of hers.

It took a few more weeks before she finally came into your classroom to ask for your help for the first time. It was silly really- all she needed you to do is stand in between both rooms to keep an eye on her class while she goes to the bathroom. But still, you were surprised she didn’t just ask Janine instead.

The first time you sat with her at lunch, it was not your day. You were running late, forgot your lunch on the counter in your apartment, spilled your coffee all down your front, and then you still didn’t have time to make a pitstop at Wawa to get a new coffee or lunch. So when you came dragging into the staff lounge with a whopping five dollars in your hand, a gigantic brown stain on your yellow shirt, and a frown, Melissa raised a brow.

“Not your day, Y/N?” your colleague asked.

You just let out a heavy sigh as you inserted a dollar into one of the machines. You picked what your vending machine lunch would be for the day before turning back around and going to head for the door. Once again, Melissa’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N,” the redhead called again. You turned to face her, clearly unhappy and not in the mood. “Is that your lunch today?”

You just nodded. 

“Come sit,” Melissa waved you over to hers and Barbara’s table.

“I uh, wouldn’t want to impo-”

“Come sit,” the hardheaded woman told you again as she kicked out the chair next to her before standing up. She headed over for the cabinets and pulled out a paper plate. With a sigh, you took the seat next to her. Before you knew what was happening, your coworker was spooning out some of the pasta that she packed for herself onto the plate and was handing it to you. 

“Melissa, what are you doing?” you asked her incredulously, eyes nearly bulging out of your head.

“I already ate like half of it, and there’s still more that I won’t finish, so eat it,” she told you sternly. When her friends all raised their brows too, Melissa shrugged. “I ain’t going to cover her class if she passes out because all she had to eat today was a bag of Doritos.”

“Melissa, I couldn’t-”

“If you don’t eat it, it’s going in the trash,” she rolled her eyes. “So just take it, and enjoy it.” Then she made her way over to the coffee machine and was brewing a new pot. You took a glance in her mug, and it was entirely full aside from the few sips you had watched her take while she was standing next to you. A few minutes later, there was a steaming hot mug of coffee placed in front of you. Then, and only then, did the redhead sit down. When she noticed that you still hadn’t taken a bite of her food, she practically shoved the fork into your hand.

After the first bite, you groaned. This was the best pasta you had ever tasted. Melissa just gave you a smile as she reached over and stole the chips you bought. She opened them, popped one into her mouth, and then pushed the bag back in your direction.

“Thank you,” you had blushed through a mouthful.

Since that day, Melissa always made sure that you ate, and she was the first to offer up some of her lunch if you forgot yours that day.

The first time you realized you had feelings for her, you absolutely freaked out. You weren’t supposed to like her- your coworker. And yet there you were- falling for Melissa Schemmenti. You had no idea that she was falling just as hard.

The first time she kissed you, she had pretty much ambushed you- after a relatively hard day with the kids, on top of watching the idiot fifth grade teacher flirt with you mercilessly. You were just sitting at your desk trying to grade your second graders’ spelling tests when you heard her enter your room with the slamming of the door.

“Melissa?” you asked, clearly shocked that she was coming in here, and pissed. “What- what’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer, instead crossing the room on straight legs and kissing you rather aggressively. You were so shocked in the moment that you didn’t kiss her back. As she pulled away though, you only pulled her back in for another. You tugged her into your lap as her arms wrapped around your neck. Eventually, air became a necessity, and she pulled away.

“I’m so fuckin’ sick of watching Matthews flirt with you,” she stated as her green eyes turned dark.

“Matthews is an idiot,” you rolled your eyes. “Doesn’t ever pick up on the fact that they only person I ever flirt back with is you.”

“Dinner at my house tonight,” she told you lowly. She wiped off the excess lipgloss from your face before fixing her own. With a toss of her hair, she stood from your lap and made her way out of your room. You couldn’t help but watch the way her hips swayed.

The first time you said I love you, it wasn’t the way you thought that you would’ve told her. Honestly, the first time you said those three special words, you weren’t aware that you had said them. Or remembered. 

You were absolutely hammered during one of the happy hours after school. You don’t even really remember how you ended up getting as drunk as you did- you never got that bad. But with Melissa and Mr. Johnson practically feeding you shots after a particularly hard day with your students, you were on the verge of blacking out. So, as a dutiful girlfriend, Melissa took you out of the dive bar before you could make an even bigger fool out of yourself than you already had.

“You’re so pretty,” you had murmured the whole way home, a hand never far from her body. It wasn’t in any sexual way, you just liked being close to her.

She chuckled, that easy laugh that you knew meant she wasn’t uncomfortable with your actions. “Thanks, hun.”

Once she pulled up to your apartment complex, she ushered you inside. You had expected her to leave you, even in your drunk state. But instead, she simply guided you to the couch, wrapped you up in a blanket, and went on her way to your kitchen. Before you knew it, you were eating one of your favorite dishes of hers while she lounged next to you.

“You’re the best,” you smiled at her drunkenly.

She pat your leg with a soft smile on her face. “Don’t I know it? Now, why don’t we get you up to bed so you can sleep this off, and hopefully don’t wake up hungover tomorrow for work?”

“Are you trying to seduce me?” you slurred out.

Green eyes were rolled as she hoisted you into her arms. She carried you up to your room, got you changed, and pulled the blankets over you. She kissed your forehead before going to leave.

“Stay?” you had asked meekly.

You heard her sigh, but your eyes were closed. “Give me a few minutes.”

On the verge of sleep, you felt the bed dip under you and warm, strong arms wrap around you. In an instant, you turned in her arms and tucked your chin into her body.

“I love you,” you whispered before giving into drunken exhaustion.

Melissa stiffened just slightly beneath you, but then with a sigh of relief, she reciprocated that emotion, a kiss being pressed to your temple. She held you like that through the rest of the night.

The first time you said ‘I love you’ and were coherent for it, it wasn’t a grand gesture at all. The two of you were sitting outside of her townhouse after a nice meal when you knew you couldn’t hold it in any longer. So, you grabbed her hand with a smile and breathed out those three special words.

“I love you,” you told her with the softest of smiles, the softest of eyes. Then you take a deep sigh of relief. “Oh God. There, I said it first. Now it won’t be awkward, because I know we’ve both been dancing around it for a while now.”

Your girlfriend responded with a full-out belly laugh, and it shook you. It startled you. Was it too early to say those words?

“What?”

She just continued to laugh. “Hun, you said it first a while ago.”

“I what?” you gasped.

“Do you remember the last happy hour we went to?” she asked you with a smirk.

You grumbled. She loved to hold that day over your head. “Barely.”

“After I got you to bed, before you fell asleep, you told me. You’ve also been mumbling it in your sleep. So, I know you love me. I’ve just been waiting for you to tell me coherently,” your girlfriend laughed. Then she sobered slightly to look at you with eyes she only had reserved for you. “I love you too, mi amore.”

That night also led to the first time… that first time. And it was everything you had dreamed of and more. Melissa Schemmenti was a body worth worshipping. 

The first time you spoke of what your future might look like together was rocky- but it was nothing if not informative. She expressed that she wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of marriage, but kids were something that she was wary of. You expressed that you could see yourself marrying her if it all fell into place, and kids were a dream of yours. If they came along they came along. Melissa reminded you that the two of you wouldn’t just be able to create a life the way any straight couple would be able to; forcing you to blush furiously. Of course though, she said that if the timing was right and everything fell into place, it wasn’t off the table.

The first time you had tried to propose to Melissa Schemmenti was one that you’ll never, ever forget. Everything seemed like it was going perfectly- the kids were extremely well-behaved that day for both of you (something that quite literally never happens), the drive home and making dinner was pleasant, and dessert was almost ready. You thumbed the ring in your pocket, just about ready to drop down to one knee and ask her to marry you. But of course, the most important aspect of your day was ruined when you dropped the ring as you went to pull it out of your pocket. You thanked your lucky stars that you were able to locate it and recover from your fumble before she was aware that anything was happening behind her back. But now that you were in such a panic, you couldn’t ask her. So, you enjoyed dessert with the ring carefully placed in your pocket. And it was wonderful.

You figured you had recovered enough from your first fumble to be able to ask her as you were getting ready for bed that night. So, while she was in the bathroom taking off her makeup, you carefully pulled the ring from your pocket again and laid it on her pillow. That was almost a surefire way for her to see it.

You were wrong of course. While she usually rolled into bed, this particular time she decided to flop down and sent the ring flying behind the headboard. It landed with a particularly loud thud- one that made her furrow her brows.

Thinking quickly, you took off one of your own rings and stuffed it under your pillow. 

“Oh, dammit,” you groaned, ever the actress. “I knew I forgot to put that ring back on.”

“Sorry, hun.” Melissa looked regretful. “Let me grab it for you.” She goes to roll out of bed and move the frame away from the wall to retrieve your ring.

You were too slow to stop her, frozen in your tracks. She found the engagement ring that was meant to be hers and stood straight up with it, eyes wide and jaw just slightly agape.

“Y/N,” your girlfriend said lowly. “What is this?”

“A ring?” you desperately were trying to figure out how to get out of this predicament. 

“No shit,” she was quick to retort. “Who’s is it?”

“Mine,” you say quietly.

“Are you secretly married or something?” Green eyes turn somewhat dark.

“No!” you were quick to reply. Well, you had to come clean now. “Mel, it’s mine… for you. I was going to ask you tonight, but both times I went to, I fumbled.”

Your girlfriend’s eyes grew wide. “What do you mean?”

You explained the earlier events to her with a sigh. “Now, can I please have the ring back so I can at least go to bed with some of my dignity tonight?”

Melissa handed you the ring with an expectant look. But instead of dropping down to one knee like she thought you would, you instead just put the ring back safely in its box.

“What are you doing?” she asked you. “Aren’t you going to propose?”

“Well, I can’t now,” you replied. “It has to be perfect, and that proposal would not be.” You slide back into bed and open your arms for her to fall into. She does with a frown on her face.

“Damn,” she huffed. “I could’ve been engaged tonight.”

“Well,” you chuckled as you pressed a kiss to her head. “You will be soon enough- when the time is right.”

“It’s a beautiful ring,” she complimented softly as she held up her left hand. “Damn! Now I wish I would’ve just put it on!”

The next morning, Barbara came flying into the staffroom to look at Melissa’s hand- she knew of your plan to ask her work wife to marry you. She all but grabbed her best friend’s hand, and the smile that she wore immediately melted away into a frown.

“Where’s the-”

“It didn’t go as planned,” you sighed softly from next to your still-girlfriend.

“What does that mean?” Barbara gasped. “Melissa Ann, did you refuse her proposal?”

“What?”

“Did you refuse her proposal?”

“She didn’t,” you chuckled nervously. “I flubbed it.”

“H-how on Earth would you have flubbed it?” Barbara asked you. 

You turned sheepish. “I dropped the ring twice… and then she found it.”

“I tried to get her to propose,” Melissa huffed. “She wouldn’t.”

“And why would that be?”

“Because it has to be perfect,” you sighed as you kissed her hand. “You deserve perfect.”

“What I deserve is for that ring to be on my finger,” your girlfriend still huffed.

She got it eventually. The third time that you tried to propose was perfect, and the rock sat on her finger beautifully. The first time the Abbott crew saw it, they nearly swooned. Barbara nudged her best friend lightly.

“Was it worth the wait?” the kindergarten teacher asked teasingly.

“Yeah,” Melissa whispered as she held her hand out to admire the new ring. “I’d say so.”

The first time that you decided to sit down to wedding plan did not go to plan. It was disagreement after disagreement. And of course, that led to you sleeping on the couch after you said something not particularly called for. But after that, wedding planning was civil and respectful, and the “Abbott event of the century”, as Janine was putting it, was nearly set.

The first time you saw Melissa in her wedding dress was probably the most untraditional way to see her in it. But then again, most of the things about your relationship were untraditional.

You had come home after your own fitting, and there she was- standing on the coffee table as her mother was attempting to do alterations her own dress. Barbara Howard, obviously assuming her duty as maid of honor, was holding pins for Mrs. Schemmenti. In an instant though, she was shooing you back out the door.

“Y/N,” Barbara scolded you. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You chuckled. “Barb, this is my house too, you know.”

“Well, yes, but I thought you knew she would be doing alterations to the dress!”

“I didn’t think she would be standing on our living room coffee table!” you argued. “I thought she would be doing it in the basement or our bedroom, so I was just going to avoid those areas!”

The kindergarten teacher huffed. “Well, please tell me you didn’t see her in it.”

You avert your eyes- you had seen her in it. And she looked stunning.

“You two are the worst, you know that?” Barb rolled her eyes.

You smiled though. “Yeah, we are. But at least we can be terrible together.”

The first time you said your vows out loud was to your future wife, on your wedding day. By some grace of God, you had managed to keep them under wraps, and she had managed to keep hers a secret from you too.

So, there the two of you stood, holding hands up at the altar and looking into each other’s eyes as you made lifelong promises to each other. 

Melissa’s vows were short and sweet like she was (despite the fact that she always appears to be an average height… heels be damned). She glossed over the fact that she never in a million years would’ve expected to be standing here today before promising you that she would always be there to make lasagna for your birthday, that she’d never love Jalen Hurts more than you, and that she’d do whatever it takes to keep you happy… even if that meant having to be the one to change the lightbulbs in the house because you were afraid of getting burnt. Her vows to you made you laugh, they made you cry, they made you fall even further in love with her than you already were.

And then it was your turn to speak your vows- ones that you had only practiced in your head because you knew she was always looming around the corner trying to hear you.

“So,” you chuckled softly as you turned to the audience. “As Melissa stated, it was not love at first sight. Not even love at second glance- at least on her part. But… we’ve made our way here.” 

Your friends and family had laughed at your light joke, and then you turned back to Melissa. “It may not have been love at first sight, but we’ve had a lot of other firsts happen in life… One’s that we may not have ever expected: the first time you called me by name, the first time we had to ask each other for help, the first time you ambushed me in the classroom to tell me about the feelings that you had for me, our first I love you’s… the ones that I remember at least-” you blushed. “The first time I tried to propose, and the second time, and finally the third time. I guess what they say is true, that the third time’s a charm.” Again, those that you had invited to the ceremony chuckled along with you. “I’ve cherished all of our firsts, and I always will. And now, here I am, ready to read my vows aloud for the very first time.”

You shook your hands out nervously before glancing at the woman before you. You spoke of promising to love her through the good and bad, the beautiful and the downright ugly, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health. And then you diverted from the traditional vows. “Melissa, today is the first day of the rest of our lives, and it’s one that we’ll truly never forget. But just because we’re getting married doesn’t mean that life is going to be boring. I vow to you that we will live a lifetime full of firsts- together. I’m not quite sure what those firsts may be, but I know that they’ll be just as meaningful and as memorable as the rest of our firsts. I love you.”

The rest of your wedding is perfect, and then the reception after is an absolute ball. It was the first night of the rest of your lives, as you had said. And while you maybe wouldn’t remember it all the next morning, you knew that the most important parts would always be held to your heart.

The first time that you really spoke about your future together as a married couple- adding kids to the mix, or maybe a pet, was… it wasn’t pretty. But after a bit of wearing her down, your wife (God, you loved that you could call her your wife) agreed that if she was going to be a parent with anyone, it would be you.

That led you to your first treatments. That led you to the first time you peed on a stick, for once praying that it was positive. It wasn’t. That led you to another round of treatments, another negative test. And after the third round, for the first time, the word “positive” was staring up at you. 

Melissa had just smiled at you softly and said, “I guess third time really is a charm for us.”

Your first pregnancy. With that, there were a lot of firsts. The first ultrasound and time you heard your baby’s heartbeat.The first time you experienced morning sickness. The first time you noticed your bump. The first time you had to buy maternity clothes. The first time that you felt the baby kick- the first time she felt the baby kick. There were so many firsts throughout all of that experience.

And now, here you are, holding your daughter, your first born, for the first time. Melissa is perched on the side of your hospital bed, looking at the two of you with such love in her eyes. For the first time, the two of you are mothers. It’s a feeling of love that you never knew before- you understand motherly love for the first time as you hold this beautiful little baby in your arms.

“This is the first day of the rest of our lives,” you whisper as you stroke your little girl’s cheek.

“We’ve already had a lifetime full of firsts,” she tells you softly as she brushes her lips against your temple. “I think we can handle another lifetime of firsts.”

TAGS: (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

[foggyfrogss]

« MOIRA › fate; destiny

Gojo x Reader | Warnings: Pure Angst | Discord 18+ | One Shot List

Synopsis— You are reminded of the horrors of Jujutsu, witnessing the last moments of Satoru Gojo and Yuta Okkotsu.

Wake up.

Wake up.

Your mind repeats the phrase, over and over.

“Wake up…”

It had just been you left in the room.

No other signs of life. No other signs of life.

On the metal he lay, motionless and coated in red. It’s all red.

There was no way he could be dead.

“Wake up!” It’s a selfish act, pleading a dead man to wake up.

Oh how you only wanted to see those eyes just one more time. Just one more time.

His face is still, holding an expression you’d never seen him make.

Satoru Gojo was at peace.

Though severed in more places than one, cut in half and bleeding out; he was at peace. A peace he couldn’t find living, even if he searched far and wide. It was an unreachable peace for a man who was as burdened as he was. He was free.

Tangled in your soul, he stays, making it difficult to breathe.

The short time you had alone with him had not been enough, you wished for more— but Shoko had been insistent on preparing his corpse.

Satoru was good at many things, one thing being that he always kept you out of the loop of his plans. “You’re what?” The words fall from your lips in a shocked tone, devoid of anger but filled with horror.

You couldn’t be angry at Shoko for something out of her control. She wanted the same as you; you could see it on her face and in the amount of finished cigarettes on the floor.

“If we hit rock bottom— meaning we have no other choice, if Yuta can’t do it,” Shoko begins to explain as she rids Gojo’s face of the dried blood, “we are to swap Yuta’s consciousness into his body.”

“He was okay with this?” You ask, motioning towards Gojo. Shoko nods, but only once. Her tired eyes jump from his corpse to meet your eyes. “He was sure he’d win, but then expressed that he did not care what happened to his body… if he were to die.”

In silence, though standing back far enough to give Shoko room, you watch her prepare his body. The squeaking wheels of a cart could be heard as she brings over a tray of medical tools.

She cleans off the dried blood after removing the scraps of his torn shirt. In silence, Shoko stitches the man’s body back together. Almost like a puzzle.

She cleans the remaining blood, and then pauses; she’s looking up at you, brown eyes peaking up. Though her face is masked, she’s showing her concern.

“The next part may be hard to watch,” she says steadily, holding up what looks to be a type of scalpel.

One part you had completely missed was how the consciousness would be swapped.

“Wait,” you’re saying, “what are you about to do?”

It’s silent for a beat, and you don’t miss the way her fingers slightly tremble. “The curse that was inside Geto’s body- Yuta will be copying that technique to use Gojo’s technique.”

It was clear as day now, and your eyes widen.

“You’re using-“ you are cut off with a loud popping sound. Ui-Ui appears out of thin air, holding— to the best of his abilities, Yuta Okkotsu.

Once again, all you see is red. It’s spilling onto the floor, a lot faster than Gojo’s had been. Yet, as you watch in pure horror, you see the way Yuta is still alive. He’s still moving, but slowly. Yuta’s energy flickers as it clings to life.

Shoko had dropped everything in her hands to push another metal table over, helping Ui-Ui place his severed body onto it. Piece by piece, careful not to hurt him more than he already was.

Just like Gojo, Yuta matches his sensei’s fatal wounds.

Seconds after Yuta’s arrival, the double-doors to the morgue/medical area are busted open. A kid, who you faintly recall as Amai, and Nitta flood in. Both of them rush to Yuta’s side, doing what they can to help him.

With a few minutes passing, you feel the tension in the air rise. It thickens uncomfortably, making you more anxious than you already were. “It’s no use,” you hear Nitta express. “All my RCT is doing is pausing it— it’s not getting better or worse.”

“Rika is how I’m still conscious, b-but that’s at its limit too…” you hear Yuta’s strained voice choke out. It’s absolutely gut-wrenching, hearing a kid— Satoru’s student, you grew to know so well suffer in such a way. “Ieiri, we’re doing it,” he says, “we have to do it. There’s no other choice.”

For a second, it’s deathly silent. All that could be heard is the strained breathing of Yuta Okkotsu.

“I have finished the stitching on Gojo’s corpse. As soon as you have moved in, push your reverse cursed technique to its maximum and get the body ready,” Shoko is turning slightly to lock eyes with Amai. “Amai, you will help me support him.”

“You have the option to stay and watch or save yourself the grief.”

You are already grieving, what more could make it worse? You stay silent, practically unable to speak.

Her words make you glance up at her, tearing your eyes away from Yuta as you watch Amai move towards his extended right hand.

“Come with me,” you feel Nitta take hold of your hand, pulling you towards the exit.

As if you’re on auto-pilot, your legs take you with her. Your head stays turned as you leave, watching as Shoko begins cutting into Gojo’s head.

The sight is gruesome, making you sick, but the double-doors shut before you can watch any further.

Unable to move any further, you’re falling to your knees, releasing a pained sound as you feel the grief finally take hold of the wheel. It’s painful.

“No…” you gasp out, shutting your eyes tightly together. The last thing you wanted to do was cry, but the tears find their way out, falling down your cheeks in heavy streams. “This isn’t real,” you say, clenching your teeth. “Satoru couldn’t have just died like that.”

Nitta is silent.

When you no longer feel Yuta’s cursed energy, you know.

After peeling yourself off the ground, you’d found a seat in a row chairs just outside the morgue. You assumed they were for grieving people such as yourself. People who needed to say goodbye one final time.

It’s quiet. A quiet that leaves you bare and lonely, alone with your thoughts. All you can think about is how you’ll never see him again.

As you sit in the depths of your mind, wading through heavy thoughts and feelings, a sharp feeling strikes you. It hits you hard, making you jolt.

It was him. It was his energy.

“Satoru…” you’re saying to yourself, in disbelief, picking yourself up from the seat. Nitta notices you immediately, quickly reaching for you, but you slip away.

Your anguish had blinded you. All you wanted was him and currently all you could feel around you was him.

In a haze, you’re opening the doors to the medical area, wincing from the bright lights. Your body reaches for him, grasping at the air. It’s like a magnetic pull, unable to resist the force, you’re scanning the room for him.

Your heart thumps, sending a wave of tingles through you as you finally spot him.

Lost due to the overwhelming events, you weren’t sure what to expect. It had completely slipped your mind as to what Shoko genuinely meant when she’d explained… though you understood, nothing could prepare you for what you found.

Shoko is eyeing you worriedly.

The man turns, locking eyes with you.

Oh how you only wanted to see those eyes just one more time. Just one more time. Yet, when that wish is granted, when you lock eyes with this man— it’s not the same. At all.

They are distant, lacking the vibrancy of life Satoru Gojo once held when he looked at you. Blue, striking and bright, they’re now cold. Cold like the body that lay on that table moments ago.

The peace was gone, as was Satoru Gojo.

Dead man walking, he moves awkwardly, like a reanimated corpse trying to learn how to walk again.

Disheveled hair, you can see the fresh stitching across his forehead; Geto’s face pops into your mind.

Next to Gojo’s body, Shoko moves away, going to the other side of the room. The air around her has completely shifted, and you understand immediately.

In the background, you can hear Shoko clean the tools she’s used for surgery.

“Yuta,” you say, directing it towards Gojo’s body. When his mouth opens to speak, you feel as if your heart is ripped from your chest.

Gojo was not free. Though death has lifted the burden of his status off his soul, he is unable to rest. He is not free— a weapon, taken advantage of and used selfishly by your fellow sorcerers for their gain. For Japan’s gain. Call it selfish, but you understood why the plan had been kept from you now.

Hell would freeze over before you agreed to such a thing, even if Gojo was okay with it.

To have a body; to just exist, is to suffer— it was what you learned from him in the handful of years you had known Satoru Gojo.

He was not a man to speak up, especially about himself; you could see it in his eyes rather than being told in words. The second his blindfold was removed in the comfort of your home, his entire story would be told, expressed only to you in private.

He was a man, a human, just like any other sorcerer... just as Geto was.

To be used in the same way as his late best-friend, but this time for good; it was more than tragic... disturbing and unforgivable.

“Hello,” he says your name after, following the greeting.

It is his voice. It is his voice.

Under a white sheet, Yuta’s body— now corpse, lays still. His brain, and complete consciousness, residing in the corpse of your late lover.

“I’m sorry,” is all he says before disappearing from the room. His voice is pained, as if he had been in your shoes himself. As if he had been the one to witness his lover's body being used as a tool.

Silence follows his departure, filling the cold room.

You hadn't known warmth since he turned cold.

[bueckersstrap]

THROW AWAY

paige b. x reader

masterlist + playlist here !

warnings : language, cheating

wc : 850-900

tags : @mayghosts

a/n : ok so idk this was really short so imma make it like a prologue if ya catch my drift 😉 hope yall enjoy, chapters will be longer ofc. lmk what yall do and don’t like 💘💘💘 xoxo - cel

0. told her i would call her back, i forgot to text her / PROLOGUE

paige : dude it’s literally not what it looks like chill tf out 😂 11:56 PM

you : chill out ..? ur out cheating and im supposed to chill out ? alr . go have fun w ur lil home wrecking ass friend. 11:58 PM

paige : i’m out tryna enjoy my time w my friends nd ur stressing me ? imma call u after tho , ight? 11:59 PM

paige : i didnt mean it like that ur not stressing me 12:00 AM

deadass i didnt ???

read at 12:02 AM

seriously y/n 12:09 AM

bro y ru acting like that

nah fuck u

wait

no

wait yes

fuck you

read at 12:10AM

‘paige’ has been blocked by ‘y/n’

—

the loud knock that erupted on the apartment door must’ve rung throughout the empty hallways of paige’s complex.

nervously shifting her weight between her feet, holding the cardboard box — that was filled to the brim with all of paige’s stuff — was heavy of a weight enough and the extra anxiety wasn’t helping.

y/n felt like she must have been waiting at paige’s door for hours when it really was only a minute or so.

paige’s expression turned blank, not expecting to ever see y/n again after the incident.

“your stuff. i didn’t need it taking up space in my apartment anymore.” you said, shallow and shoving the box into her chest.

“I- uh. thank you?”

it seemed as if paige swallowed her pride and was going to say something but before she could you flashed her a tight lipped expression and begged yourself not to give in to her antics if she tried anything.

you two had been in this situation countless times, it always ended up in sex. but you didn’t want that this time. not yet, atleast.

it was the awkward silence that confirmed the end of you two was catching up to the years that lacked apologies and proper communication. there was nothing you could’ve done to stop it, what was done was done and paige’s actions couldn’t be controlled. that’s just how she is.

paige looked scared, almost. her expression was unexplainable and as hard as you tried to study the way her lips curled or the way her eyes scanned your own face; you couldn’t figure it out.

without saying anything more, you gave her once last look and walked away, completely shattered.

—

‘the incident’ that was referenced was the moments leading up to when you were sitting in your apartment, innocently and mindlessly scrolling on tiktok when you came across your girlfriends’ friend — ice brady’s — live.

you clicked to see them all out at a bar. this wasn’t unexpected as paige had already told you what her plans for the night were. you watched contently for a little bit, admiring the night your friends were having, that you weren’t invited to. it was weird to not be invited to a group hangout and not be asked to go with, not even by your girlfriend. it had already made you uneasy but it didn’t matter and you brushed your feelings under the rug.

ice shifted the camera to her left and for a split second the world stopped. you immediately recognized the blonde. the grown out roots with the slender hands that wrapped around presumably — from the back — her teammate, azzi fudd.

it wasn’t just a hug as you might’ve thought, her hands were on azzi’s waist and azzi’s hands were around paige’s neck. the distance between them was non-existent and very clear to everybody on live.

ice uncomfortably shifted the camera back to her, exchanging looks with her friend caroline. both the women’s expressions turned into ones of pure shock and slight panic as her and caroline tried to play it off as normal. nothing was normal about this, though.

“what the fuck?” you mumbled, furrowing your brows to try and capture the moment in your brain. it didn’t last as long as it felt though.

for a couple minutes you set your phone down, pacing around your apartment. too many thoughts you had to calculate came at lighting speed in your pounding head. at first, you tried to justify her actions, thinking, maybe it wasn’t what it looked like. but then you started thinking more rationally. you knew what you saw and there was no defending her actions no matter how much you tried. you attempted reading between the lines, trying to catch a loophole in which azzi and paige weren’t kissing within an inch of life between them but the hand placement was a dead give away. the realization made your blood run cold and gave you the confidence needed to say something, not wanting to silence you or your feelings anymore.

that’s how the whole text situation ended up happening because the pure shock turned into pure anger. you concluded that azzi fudd was a home wrecker, and paige bueckers was a lying slut cheater.

was it fair to label azzi that, just by seeing the live? probably not. but the heat that rose to your cheeks in your anxiety driven body made it hard for you to think straight. but this wasn’t about azzi, this was about paige and her extremely ignorant tendencies. especially her intoxicated ones.

it hurt but you knew it was a long time coming, anyway. the toxic relationship you two shared had been ongoing since your junior year when you hooked up at a halloween party and were on and off since.

you couldn’t tell whether knowing that the cycle between you and paige would continue until one of you broke— which wasn’t going to happen— brought you comfort or sadness. it was very unfortunate that you wasted this much time on paige, but considering your past and the very foreseeable future, it was hard not to. as fast as you tried to run away you knew you’d probably end up being caught up to sooner or later. until the pattern repeated itself, you’d try and heal like normal and be destroyed when she came back and ruined your life.

it was the circle of paige.

[kakushino]

hello can i get a giyuu x reader angst , like where giyuu had an argument with the reader , but it turns out the reader is pregnant? you can add any other plot twist cus i love plot twists thank you !<3

Almost

Tomioka Giyuu x Fem! Reader

He had lost a lot of people in his life by his own making. He refused to lose you too.

Tags: pregnancy, arguments, blood mention, abortion mention (no actual abortion), hurt/comfort Word count: 2k

Masterlist

AN: Hope you enjoy it! I actually had a WIP of an argument + making up before, so I got to revisit it and add the pregnancy spice you asked for hehe~ Huge thanks to my dearest beta reader @glitchtricks94 for helping me clear it up (o゜▽゜)o☆ another huge thanks to @starrierknight for brainstorming with me

Giyuu’s injuries weren’t worse than normal, but that didn’t stop you from fretting over him – especially when he had a gash on his cheek, the same cheek you kissed a week ago when he was leaving for his mission. It made your chest feel tight to see his pretty face marred by demons. Your grandmother was surely rolling in her grave that such a classical beauty was hurt, the thought spurred you on to care for him.

No detail went unnoticed under your eye. He seemed tired, as usual, and a little stressed, as usual too - just a regular morning after slaying demons.

You sat him down at a western style dining table with a medical kit and supplies to clean the cuts with next to you. Your hands shook slightly when the damp cloth wiped away grime and blood, your lips pressed together when a fresh drop of blood oozed from the wound.

“You need to be more careful,” you murmured as you worked, the statement automatic, thoughtless.

Giyuu’s whole body stiffened. “Or what?”

You froze in place, your hand dipping the cloth in warm water. This was a new tone of his – a new way words could cut you if he wanted you to hurt: it was rough, serrated, mean. “What?”

He rolled his shoulders back a little, rearing for a fight. “You heard me the first time.”

You clenched your hand, leaving the rag in the water, and turned to fully face him. “Why are you so defensive? I meant no harm,” you replied, trying to calm the storm before it fully set in.

He stood abruptly, nearly knocking the chair he had sat in over. The look he shot you sent your heart galloping in your chest, from fear or indignation, you didn’t know. “You’ve done enough. Leave me be.”

Did he like you like this? Was the hurt in your eyes enough? That was – did he like the way it glinted, the way it caught the light? Hours upon hours spent on making your suffering pretty, and perhaps now it would pay off. He could cut you down into something pretty if he wanted to, and maybe you would let him.

Before he could walk away, before he could twist the rusty blade, you rose from your seat, “I have done nothing to warrant this tone with me, Tomioka Giyuu. Now tell me-“

"Stop bothering me," he cut you off, heading towards the door.

A violent whirlpool of emotion threatened to drown you, and for once, you let go. “You- you oaf! I can’t stand you being like this! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect,” he snapped, voice like a viper and words just as stinging. “Or at least it would be if I didn’t have you nagging me every time. I’ve been through this enough to know what to do with myself. Unlike you who sits here all pretty and safe and fat, ready to wrap a bandage and call it a day.”

You flinched, for the first time in your husband’s presence, tears springing from your eyes, which you rapidly blinked away. What have I ever done to deserve this? You had waited on your hands and knees for this man every time he’d come home battered and bruised and broken and put him back together, without complaining, with love. This was what you got in return for your devotion? Pretty and useless. That’s what he basically called you.

Your throat tightened. You hardly had the energy to respond so you turned away and just… left. You couldn’t continue listening to Giyuu when he sounded so much like… like Shinazugawa. Whatever was bothering him best be left alone to cool off before you could talk about it.

You nodded to yourself as you packed an overnight bag. Some time apart would be good for you both. You knew he wouldn’t be sent out on a mission for a few days again, since he just returned from a longer stint, so you would come back tomorrow and try to resolve it then.

It was time for a check-up with a midwife anyway.

He had really said all that.

And you left.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you left, as you should. He had treated you like garbage.

There was no going back, no taking back his idiocy, no swallowing back his words.

‘Let's stop fighting’ was at the tip of his tongue. ‘Come here and let me hug you’ nearly spilled from his lips. ‘I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry’ choked him up as you walked away.

He knew you were right. You did nothing wrong.

He felt nothing.

He was worth nothing.

Giyuu picked up the shards of his heart up and finished cleaning up his wounds. A short bath later, he walked into the kitchen to find food already made for him, now long gone cold. It just reminded him how much he butchered his relationship by what – stress and tiredness? A demon taunting him right before its death? If so little shook him up, did he even deserve to be with you?

A sharp pain pierced his heart at the thought of leaving you. His selfishness truly knew no bounds, hurting you and putting you in danger for being a Hashira’s partner yet wanting you to remain by his side.

After eating his portion, he made tea and waited to see if you would join him. There was no movement in the house at all; were you in your shared bedroom, laying in bed as you were used to when upset? He would give you time to cool off, give himself time to breathe, and then he would approach you with a clearer head. He needed to apologize.

One hour. Two hours.

Had he angered you so much that you wouldn’t come out? Your spats had never lasted this long.

The tea had long grown cold, but Giyuu couldn’t bring himself to make more. There were no sounds coming from the house.

Were you even here?

The thought jolted him from his seat, quickly walking to your shared bedroom.

“Love?”

Nothing.

“I’m coming in.”

He somehow expected it, though he’d hoped against it. You weren’t there.

Already turning to check all other rooms, he called out your name. His pace was brisk, his throat starting to clog up with a familiar emotion. Claws of anxiety sunk into his stomach, his heart beat like a drum, his lungs struggled to take in air. You weren’t there.

Where were you?

He ran through the whole estate and back two times but came up with no clue as to where you were. Panic mounted, crawling up his spine like a spider he couldn’t shake away.

Giyuu slammed the gate of his home open, very nearly running into his elderly neighbour.

She was hardly phased, though confused by his frazzled visage. “Tomioka-san? What’s got you in such a hurry, young boy?”

“Have you seen my wife?!” he’d never been as rude as he was now, but you were gone so what was he supposed to do?

“Your wife? Oh, that’s right, I saw her. If I recall, she was on her visit… hmm, who was she going to visit?” his neighbour mused. Giyuu waited with all the patience Urokodaki beat into him, that was – quite impatiently. “Oh right! A midwife! I was very surprised when-“

He stopped listening, or rather, he stopped hearing anything going on around him. A midwife? A midwife was a profession with a very specific set of skills for a very specific group of people… Did that mean-?

“Isotani-san,” Giyuu interrupted, breathless, eyes wide with surprise. “Are you saying my wife is pregnant?”

She squinted at him, “You didn’t know?”

It felt as if lightning came from clear skies and struck him. Every nerve itched with some kind of energy telling him to move.

He later vaguely remembered asking his neighbour for the direction you left in, but at the time, he saw nothing, and felt everything all at once.

Were you going to… terminate it? Were you going to tell the midwife, and would she terminate it? Was the midwife going to terminate it and help you move on? Would you move on without him?

Thoughts racing, heart galloping, Giyuu felt feverish. He stumbled back, deaf to his neighbour’s concerned questions as he turned the way you had left just hours ago. One foot in front of the other, a step by step, getting faster with each meter he passed until he was running nearly as fast as Uzui, desperation spurring him on.

Kanzaburo flew overhead, and when he cleared the village bounds, he called out to get the crow to lead him to you.

Time was of the essence. He may have botched his life, but he was too selfish to let go of you. He wanted, no- needed to get you back. You were his love, his soul, his home. He wouldn’t be able to go on if you left.

He felt crazed, desperate, as he ran.

Giyuu would have been faster had he not have to follow Kanzaburo but he wouldn’t be able to find you alone. He felt as if he was racing against the time. Any minute now, you would be in a the midwife’s home, waiting for the release from his clutches; any second now, you would sever the only tactile link you had to him – your baby.

His baby.

He swore, his mind supplementing him with your argument. It had been all his fault, he’d just lashed out because of nothing, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. How childish he’d been – and he was supposed to be a father? No, he wanted to be a father. He’d fix himself and he’d support you and he’d even carry you your whole pregnancy, so you didn’t have to walk. He’d learn to cook more than the basics to feed you and your baby.

Please, let me be in time.

Then he saw you.

The whole world seemingly froze, grey and empty save for you.

You were a pearl amongst rocks, still as beautiful as the first day he saw you, as beautiful as you were on your wedding day.

Giyuu didn’t stop, even as you turned to him in surprise when he called your name. He didn’t stop until he had you in a soul-crushing hug, tight and near bruising – one he immediately eased up on, since he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Calm down, Giyuu! What’s going on?”

“D-don’t-“ he stumbled over his words, still frantic and breathing heavily, “don’t get rid of it!”

You were confused, “Get rid of what?”

His hands were heavy clutching onto your clothes, his frame nearly hanging onto you. “Our – our child,” he gasped out. “Isotani-san told me you were- she told me you were pregnant.” His words came out in a rush, eyes wide as he stared at you, his pupils darted all over your face for a sign of – of anything, be it forgiveness, anger, sadness, anything.

Looking at him in such a state, near quivering in his spot, you felt powerful. Giyuu was at your mercy for once. You could topple him as easily as a sandcastle, crush him under your boot and grind down to juice him of all that made him who he was. It made you realize you held just as much power over him as he did over you. Oddly, you felt reassured - of his love, of your love, of the relationship. 

Heart hammering in your chest, cheeks filling with warmth, the adoration you carried in your heart spilled over and pooled in your stomach. You hungered for more of this power, positively starved to sink your teeth into him and drain him.

But that could wait.

“I am indeed pregnant,” you confirmed, your hands resting on his arms, thumbs stroking soothing lines over his muscles. You paused, letting the seconds painfully stretch out, “I’m not terminating the pregnancy.”

His whole being sagged with relief. Giyuu fell to his knees in slow motion, his hands sliding down your yukata to rest over your hips, now clutching the fabric there with a weak grip. “Thank gods…” he rasped out, his breathing stuttered as if holding back sobs. “Please, love, let’s not- I apologize – I apologize for everything. I shouldn’t have lashed out. I was wrong…”

His impossibly blue eyes met yours, the surface glistening with unshed tears, his guilt bitter but his plea tasting sweet on your tongue. Saliva gathered in your mouth, wanting more.

Did that make you a bad person?

“You dismissed my concern,” you stated, fighting back any expression wanting to take over your face. “You said I nag you. You called me useless.” And pretty, your mind supplied. He’d also called you fat, so there was that. “I didn’t deserve that.”

Giyuu’s lips were downturned, “You didn’t. I was an oaf.” His admission did nothing to soothe the ache he’d given you. “I’m willing to take whatever punishment you deem worthy of my misdeeds.” He let go of your yukata, smoothing over the wrinkles he made. He didn’t know what to do with himself, trying not to fidget as you rolled his actions and words in your mind.

“There will be no punishment,” you told him. If possible, he became even more tense, the need for absolution great. Perhaps no punishment would be a punishment of itself. “But don’t think you’re entirely forgiven. I accept your apology; you however have to make up for it your own way.” You studied his earnest expression, brows slightly furrowed as he started thinking about ways to win you back. It shouldn’t be too hard. He did it once, he could do it again.

Giyuu slowly stood up, taking your hands in his. “I won’t disappoint you, love,” he said resolutely, kissing your fingertips softly. He adored you, with his whole heart, mind and body.

Everything would work out – just like the ice always melts and clouds disperse, a typhoon passes and the sea calms.

“If you pull this act again, I’m leaving.” You glared at him for a second to get your point across. Giyuu nodded and pulled you in for a sweet kiss.

He almost lost you and he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Thanks for reading! Reblog or comment if you liked it :3

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

please i LOVE the dynamic of flirty reader and spencer in little baby lime… could we get some more of them together? maybe with reader flirting with the team and flustered spencer again it made me giggle. also the pregnancy part was truly the cherry on top 😌 LOVE UR WRITING!!

i would’ve included henry but i wanted to keep this around sea2-3 reid.

it’s bring your kids to work day and spencer doesn’t have his kid yet, but any excuse to bring you to work he’ll take. and hotch brought jack with him and he loves to talk with you whenever there’s a silent moment.

“can i be the baby’s friend?” the young boy stood next to you while you sat in spencer’s desk chair. you smiled at the young boy as you kept rubbing soothing circles over your growing bump, “of course, but you’ll be older than them, are you okay with waiting?” watching how jack twisted his torso with his hands behind his back.

“i’ll try. my dad says patience is a very important lesson while growing up.” tilting his head to the side. you could see hints of hotch in the little face.

“it is. we practice patience every day, like i’m being very patient for my baby to arrive. and you’re probably very patience waiting for your birthday so you can have cake and presents.” reaching your hands out to start tickling the boy causing him to squirm and screech a bit too loud for a federal office.

“hey, why are we left out of the fun?” a deep voice entered the area and you stopped your attack to see hotch and spencer smiling at both of you. jack stepped closer to wrap his arms around your left bicep and lean his head to your shoulder, “cause she’s holding my new friend. and she’s pretty.” whispering the last part but with him next to your ear it was crystal clear and you couldn’t help a coo.

spencer nodded, “the prettiest.” and you rolled your eyes in a tease, “oh please, you just say that cause i have your baby.” stretching your legs out.

hotch held out his hand and jerked his head, “come on buddy, let’s leave them alone for now. y/n can see you later.” then jack looked to you quickly, “can we play later?”

“of course, but i’m very delicate right now. we don’t want to hurt your friend.” giving a tiny pat onto his cheek before he rushed to his dad’s side.

“you’re a natural already,” spencer whispered to the crown of your head before leaving a kiss. he then sat on the edge of his desk with his arms crossed over his chest.

you hummed, “and you’re gonna be so sexy being a young hot dilf. gonna need to restrain myself or else they’ll have a sibling quickly.” jumping your brows and smirking.

spencer’s eyes widened while his cheeks and ears flushed red quickly. “she always been this feisty?” derek strode up while sipping on a cup of coffee.

now you crossed your arms over your growing chest, “wouldn’t you like to know, playboy. but that train let the station and is only circling reid island.” derek chuckled lowly, “i’ll take that as a yes.”

[redflagshipwriter]

batmom cass: reveal

masterpost

Oh. Fuck. He was invisible. A flood of genuine fear washed through him. He was discovered again, he was away from any allies, he had to get away-

Danny went intangible out of sheer survival instinct and lurched downwards. Bruce made a punched-out sound and lunged to grab him. He actually got his hand around Danny’s wrist and clenched despite Danny being invisible to human eyes. It was no use. Danny slipped through his grip, the chair, and then the floor.

He caught himself there and paused, hovering in the flooring. He could see the weird joints underneath the kitchen, a dark crawl space with way more spiders than Alfred could possibly know about. One of them reared up and waved its front legs at him in what was either a threat or a greeting. Danny shuddered involuntarily and pulled back a little to give the arachnid personal space.

“Danny?” Cass’s voice was muffled but calm. “Sit in your chair, please.”

She made it sound so sensible.

He blinked rapidly. “Right. Right, okay.” He floated back up through the floor and avoided eye contact as he settled back into place and the visible spectrum. He stole a glance around the room. Cass and Damian looked unaffected. Bruce’s face said the same, but the pulse point was jumping rapidly in his throat. His hand was pressed firmly against his thigh as if to remind him that it was a physical thing that existed.

“This GIW is harmful to you?” Damian asked, sensible and unaffected. He pushed his empty yoghurt away a few inches on the tabletop. “I gather from the acronym that we are dealing with an organization rather than an individual.”

“....Yeah.” Danny gripped his knees under the table and clung to the hint of normalcy. If they were going to act like that hadn’t been weird, then maybe he was okay. “I think they’re government affiliated. They say they are. They, uh.” He cleared his throat. “They’re the Ghost Investigation Ward, but I call them the Guys in White.”

“And they are a problem because?” Damian asked crisply. Cass was watching with the full force of her formidable attention, but it wasn’t a heavy gaze. 

Danny forced himself to stop fidgeting. “Well, I might have died a little.” It came out as a question. “And they’re not sure it’s me- at least, they weren’t, but I guess that they are now.” Oof, that was hard to internalize. Of course they did. Now that they knew about Vlad, they had all the pieces to put it together. His parents had definitely put it together. The look on Mom’s face when she saw him hauling Vlad out of the lab…

He felt cold. Danny rubbed at his thighs as if that would help. 

There hadn’t been another choice. It ate at him a little bit that Danny had thrown his life away for someone he didn’t even like, but what else could he have done? Vlad was Vlad, yeah, but Danny couldn’t have left anyone there. 

Bruce had a look that Danny had never seen on him before. Intense. Focused. Dangerous. Danny instinctively pulled away from it, sitting all the way up in his chair. 

Bruce wiped it away, but the memory still sent Danny’s blood rushing. Ecto gathered in his mouth like saliva, his body readying to fight for his life. He swallowed it down with difficulty. 

“As you said,” Cass interjected. She scooted her chair a little closer to him and laid an arm along his shoulders. “Like Jason.” She rubbed at his upper arm. He leaned into her touch. 

“Like Jason,” Bruce echoed. His tone was hollow.

Danny ducked his head and missed the meaningful look that Cass shot her BatDad. 

“What are their capabilities?” Damian pushed. His dark eyes glittered when Danny looked back at him. “You clearly have invisibility and density shifting. Are they able to counter you?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Danny blinked rapidly to try to force himself to focus. This was… so weird. Someone had found out about him and he wasn’t fighting for his life. Even his friends had found out when he was actively under fire from a ghost. His nervous system didn’t know what to do with this. He cleared his throat. “They have a lot of tech, uh.” He flexed his hands. “From my parents.” He stared at the woodgrain on the table. It was probably real wood and not the heavy duty polymer that the Fenton table was made out of. “They’re not exactly competent, but there’s a lot of them, and they have had some success.”

His stomach lurched. He swallowed hard on bile. He didn’t think about what he’d found when he went after Vlad. He didn’t think about Vlad in his human form, strapped down and incisions pinned open, literal pins holding open his torso and skin layers on his arms. He didn’t think about the quietly despairing hums coming from rows of ghost cores on a shelf, neatly labeled with specimen numbers. 

“Let’s walk.” Cass hustled him up and muscled him down the hall without letting go of her comforting grip. Danny went along with it numbly. But she was kinda right. Moving shook him out of his head. The walls were changing around him, curtains and windows and framed portraits and some of Tim’s photography. They passed a room he had never seen before. Cass pushed the door open, let him look around, and then tugged him down the hall before he’d had time to do more than catalogue the novelty. 

She did that at the next door, too. Oh. An impromptu tour. The novelty of seeing new things started to drag him back to the real world, right now, which was not exactly a fight for his life.

At the third door, Danny managed, “Does anyone play that piano?”

Cass made a mysterious hum. It took her a while to unstick her tongue. “Damian can. Jason, if you ask with big eyes.” 

Danny nodded at this information. Damian did seem like the kind of person who would hone a few classic artistic skills. And Jason was manipulable, good information.

…Not that Danny would need much help there. He felt a little sheepish at how threatened he’d felt earlier when he remembered the sincerity and protectiveness he could sense from both Cass and Jason.  

“What should we do about GIW?” Cass broached the topic, as if she knew that he felt better. She probably did know. “Investigate cautiously? Destroy?” She held up two fingers to count off the ‘destroy the GIW’ options. “Horde of lawyers descend from Wayne Enterprises jet, or Justice League?”

Danny snorted. It turned into a laugh, hysterical and too long. He wiped tears away from his eyes. “Personally, I like the idea of blowing up their base,” he admitted. “But someone should rescue the test subjects first.”

“Oh?”

Cass was so weirdly easy to talk to. He leaned a little harder against her. She wasn’t a big woman, but there was something so solid about her anyway. It must be a Black Bat thing. “I left because I was getting someone out,” he admitted. “They were a lot more captives than I knew about.” He squeezed his free hand to ground himself. “I grabbed as many as I could and tossed them through the portal, but I don’t know if that was everyone or if just being home let them heal up.” 

Hell, maybe someone had come along and eaten all the helpless cores. Danny shied away from the horror of that thought. His intuition had identified the helpless ghost cores as viable ectoplasm, healing and delicious. They were scared at his approach because they sensed him, they knew they were helpless shells to crack open and lick out the sweet marrow–

Ah. Yup. He stopped in his tracks and heaved his snack onto the carpet.

[lees-chaotic-brain]

family friends and jealousy

summary: when visiting your childhood home for the first time he can't help but notice the pictures on the walls. namely, the pictures of you with your childhood best friend. your male childhood best friend.

cw: fluff, jealousy, your childhood/best/family friend's name is elliot, just to be clear elliot is like a brother to you, oikawa being a dramatic jealous little shit, insecurity, post-timeskip oikawa

wc: 1k

note: this is a request for @ficsforgaza's fundraiser!!! thank you so @wizardhore much for your donation and sending in a request. you check out how to send one in here, or sponsor a wip here

haikyuu masterlist | blog navigation

While most people assume Oikawa Tooru to be an egotistical bastard, those who are close to him know better. Underneath that irritatingly cocky front was insecurity. Insecurity that he tried so hard to hide. He doubted his skills as a setter, as a professional volleyball player. He was self-conscious of his accent when he spoke Spanish, and wondered whether he was a good friend or not.

The only parts of himself that he was truly confident in were his good looks, and his abilities to charm ladies. He knew he was extremely attractive, and that his smooth tongue and quick wit could land him pretty much any woman he wanted. So in past relationships he hadn’t doubted his ability to be a good boyfriend for a second? Why would he? He knew he was a catch, and he knew that his partner knew it as well.

At least, that’s how it was until he met you. Until he met you and for the first time found himself thinking that you were out of his league. Which was crazy, because no one was out of his league! He was the Oikawa Tooru. But you, with your beauty and bright smile and overall goodness might just be a little too good for him. 

When the two of you became friends, he found himself falling not just for your looks and perfection, but for all of your little flaws that made you you. And with every quirk he discovered, he found himself more and more in awe of the idea that you would want to spend time with him.

Then the two of you began dating, and he did everything he could to be worthy of your love and time. He told you he loved you at least three times a day, planned romantic dates, spent every one of his free seconds with you, cherished the time you spent together.

But despite all of this he found himself doubting his worth as a boyfriend. You deserved someone who could spend more time with you instead of always being at practice. You deserved to be able to tell everyone who you were dating without fear of rabid fangirls. You deserved someone who was more into your own interests, someone who could do your little hobbies with you.

All of these thoughts were constantly swirling around in his head, which is why he was currently staring at the pictures lining the halls in your childhood home. Namely, the pictures of you, and your very male, family friend. Which was strange, because when you mentioned your best friend you had told him that your mom and your friend's mom had been friends for 50+ years, but had failed to mention that Elliot was actually a guy, not a girl like he had assumed.

Your mom had asked you to help in the kitchen, ushering him out when he offered to help, telling him to relax and feel free to look around. Which led to his current fixation on the offensive pictures documenting the time in your life when another guy was at your side.

The pictures were in order from newest to oldest, ranging from when you were no more than a few weeks old, to the most recent one that appeared to have been taken mere months ago. Going down the line examining them, he nitpicked everything he could about the boy who was with you in all of them, making a mental list of all his flaws.

1. In one of the earlier pictures (you couldn’t have been more than three in it) the two of you were napping cuddled up in a pile of blankets. HOWEVER Elliot was hogging the blankets, which was something he would never do. He knew that you hated sleeping cold.

2. You looked to be about eight in this one, the two of you sitting on opposite sides of the room, clearly ignoring each other because of an argument. Hah, who did this guy think he was? If he did something to make you mad he should be groveling for your forgiveness, not ignoring you like an entitled brat.

3. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t find anything wrong with the following few, so you were teenagers in the next one. Elliot lay flopped on his back on a paddleboard, while you swam behind it, pushing it to shore as you cackled at something he said. How dare he. What type of guy made a girl push him to shore. No, he would never make you do that. In fact, he would be the one pushing you to shore, making sure you were relaxed and happy.

4. The two of you were watching a movie, curled up under a blanket and Elliot was hogging all the popcorn. Oikawa knew you loved popcorn, so if it had been him he would have let you eat all of it.

5. The two of you were at a barbeque, you perched on one of Elliot’s legs while you ate because he was manspreading, leaving no room for you on the tiny bench. Oikawa scoffed. If there was no room for both of you on the bench, he would have eaten sitting on the ground before forcing you to perch uncomfortably like that!!

His main takeaways from his research: Elliot was an immature, entitled asshole who didn’t know how to treat a girl right, and inferior to him in every way. Satisfied, he headed back into the kitchen to keep you company, prepared to beg your mother to let him stay because he missed you already. 

Turning the corner, his earlier concerns about your best friend appeased, he trotted around the corner, freezing as the blood drained from his face when he heard your voice.

“Hey, mom, What time is Elliot coming over tonight?”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t as okay with it as he thought he was…

taglist: @arlerts-angel @ponderingmoonlight lmk if you would like to be added or removed from any of my taglists!!

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim AU: Slow Cooked

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, torture, burns, body horror / goreish, isolation, touch starvation, rescue, caretaking

just some whump that wouldn't leave my head. i'm on an AU kick. 2 pieces in a day!! woo!!! also posted a catharsis chapter earlier :D

-

It was day one-thousand one-hundred and thirty-three since they’d left Kane in the sun.

Unlike in his cell, it was easy to count the days out here. Impossible not to, unless he lost count amid the endless pain. He couldn’t see, hadn’t opened his eyes in years, but fire licked at his toes once more, slowly working its way up.

Kane did not scream. The last time he’d screamed, a hunter had wrapped a cord around his throat and threatened to leave it there forever if he made another sound, leaving his lungs perpetually empty. That was day 14.

He had air. As his already burnt-beyond-recognition body lit up once more under the unforgiving heat of the sun, Kane reminded himself he could breathe. It was the only thing he had left.

It hurt. It hurt, hurt, hurt, always. There was no end to it, not even at night, when his wholly maimed form was given far too little time to even start to heal. There was only agony at night and more agony in the day.

He missed his cell. He would do anything to go back to his cell, in the blessed dark.

The morning sun rose enough to reach his face, his entire body once again swallowed as he burned alive.

Please. Please make it stop. Please, somebody help me! I’ll do anything. I just need it to stop. Mercy.

Every day, the same wish, unanswered. Kane was left to his unbearable existence, forgotten.

-

Somebody touched him. It was the first time Kane had been touched in over three years.

It was a light touch, just the graze of what he thought to be a hand to his jawline. Not enough to make it hurt more than it already did. Whoever it was said something, but he couldn’t make it out. Melted flesh had filled his ears for quite some time.

Kane did not move. He didn’t think he was capable of moving, anymore. But he had to do something. Maybe if he did, they’d let him inside, just for a little. Just for a few days. He would do anything to be allowed inside for a few days, even if they tortured him.

Please, I need help, please help me! Make it stop!

A small, raspy whine escaped the back of his throat, muffled further by his sealed-shut lips. It was all he could manage.

The hand retreated.

If Kane was capable of crying, he would. If Kane’s tear ducts hadn’t melted away under the sun years ago, he’d never have stopped.

Please. Please. Somebody. Help me.

His heart cried out, yearning for the touch to return. Even if they never helped, even if they hurt him. He just needed to feel for one moment like he wasn’t alone.

He keened again, a quiet thing, though he tried. Wordless begging to not be left.

The hand returned to his cheek, and he quieted once more. If the agony never stopped, at least he had this. The ability to breathe, and one gentle touch.

Without warning, something pierced his chest, and his cursed consciousness was blissfully lost.

-

Kane did not wake outside.

His arms and legs were no longer spread into the corners of the board, ensuring every vulnerable inch of his front was exposed to the sun. The board no longer touched his back, in fact. Instead, he laid on something soft. The sun did not shine.

Either it was nighttime, or he’d been allowed inside.

It was almost unthinkable that he’d be allowed to rest on something soft and let inside. Surely, it had to be nighttime.

Despite his relative freedom–he could still feel a shackle on one ankle, not silver, but nothing else–he was far too mangled to move around. He simply laid there, trying to bask in the wonder of the soft thing.

“Kane?” a voice asked, hours later. He could hear it, he realized. His ears were cleared.

He knew that voice. That was the human’s voice. Jim’s voice.

The fragile hope that he might be allowed to remain on the soft thing vanished.

“Are you awake?” Jim asked. “I saw you… twitching and stuff.”

He would cry if he could. He was crying, he realized, tears falling down his burnt-up cheeks.

“It’s okay, don’t be scared. I mean, that’s–that’s a tall order, yeah. You’re not going out there again. You’re gonna be okay.”

That gentle hand returned, to his hair this time. There wasn’t much of it left, he was reasonably sure. Jim stroked what was there, his touch feather-light, like he was afraid Kane would break into pieces.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. It’s over,” Jim promised. His voice shook like he might be crying, too.

Kane wanted to believe it so, so badly. It was everything he’d ever wanted, for someone to help. Finally, finally, for the pain to end. It hadn’t even ended yet, his body was a horrific mess of seared skin, but it had been promised. No one had ever promised to help before.

He couldn’t be dreaming. It never hurt this badly in dreams, his only refuge.

“Can you open your mouth?” Jim prompted.

No. He couldn’t. He tried, just to prove it, and…

His lips popped open, revealing a perfectly-preserved, unburnt mouth.

How long had he been out? Days? Had he not been touched by the sun for days?

“You’re doing great,” Jim encouraged. “I know you’re hurting pretty bad right now. So, um, I just…”

“Here, I’ve got it.” A different voice, female, unfamiliar. Before Kane could even worry about who she was, a lid opened with a pop, and the smell of blood filled the air.

Kane did manage more than a whine, then. A desperate howl of need.

The blood poured into his mouth, cold and refreshing and salty and sweet. There was so much of it. He drank and drank and drank until there was no more. He was actually sated for once.

“That’ll help him heal faster?” Jim asked.

“Yeah. Should do the trick.”

“...Do you think he’ll be mad at me?”

Mad? How could he possibly be mad? Jim took him away from the sun. Jim let him inside. Jim gave him blood. He was going to be allowed to heal!

“I think he’ll just be happy to be out of the sun,” the other voiced his thoughts.

There was a creak on the soft think–a bed? A couch?--as someone sat next to him. “Three years ago, the hunters told me they had you,” Jim said.

Three years. That was the end of it, then? Kane had paid his price, he wouldn’t have to do it anymore? It felt too good to be true.

“I told them to kill you,” he continued. “I was scared. I thought you would be like… before. I thought you would come after me. I didn’t know what they were doing, and they told me they’d done it. I thought you were dead. I never wanted you to suffer, not like this.”

Did that mean no more? It was truly over?

“No m-more?” Kane rasped out, his voice struggling to find itself after so long.

“No more.” That gentle touch returned to his hair, and for the first time in years, there was hope.

-

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