#but that was the big one and the breaking point

[void-my-warranty]

Soap Warms You Up (18+)

Service Dog Johnny Part 20 (full part list here)

Pairing: Simon Riley/Fem Reader/Johnny MacTavish Content warnings: Sexual contact, she/her reader Word Count: 2.7k

It makes you cry harder. 

Frozen, bitterly confused, Johnny’s words just turn you into more of an emotional mess. You devolve into gasping those deep, undignified sobs onto his shoulder, because all you know is it hurts. Being near him is a suffocating grief, and he’s as close as can be now, wrapping you up even tighter and muttering, “It’s okay,” over and over, as if saying it enough times will somehow make it true.

You attempt to stop crying long enough to apologize, but every time you try, your lungs seize and your voice breaks, and the tide continues. You must really be concerning Johnny, because at some point he starts babbling confused assurances that it’s not a big deal, and there will be other nights to do stuff, and are you upset because you’re cold?

“I’m s-s-s-s-sorry,” you manage explain through jackhammering teeth. “I know it w-asn’t— didn’t go the w-way I—”

“Let’s get these sorted,” comes a familiar, gruff voice from the front seat, and fingers grab for the sticky fabric of your leggings to start pulling them down.

“It was fun,” Johnny insists, petting your hair in a clumsy sort of way. “Maybe one of these days—”

“Trousers,” barks Simon, giving your leggings two irritated tugs.

Sadly, Johnny joins him in ridding you of your pants, instead of staying on the very important topic of whether or not you’re a massive let-down. 

You’re pudding-brained by it all. By the time you remember you can actually help undress yourself instead of sitting there uselessly, your hands just get in the way. So you get stripped in the car like a toddler, and then Johnny takes his coat off to tuck it around your thighs, and wraps you up in his arms again. If only you weren’t so cold, so you’d know if it’s a hug he actually wants to give. 

But you are cold, and your legs greedily suck up his coat’s residual body heat. Even his stupid warmth feels good, like it’s got a delicious taste of who he is stored in it. Johnny’s heat, and his body pressed to yours, and you can finally breathe, just a little. 

He sighs into your hair, as if he understands. You wish he wouldn’t. 

“Once the car warms up, you can take the coat back,” you whisper. “I’ll be fine.”

“Nae bother, I’m warm blooded.”

“Okay, well, Simon can give it back to you on Monday—”

“‘S alright,” cuts in the third voice, “we’re going round to Johnny’s after this.”

You can tell by the sudden rigidity of the body against yours that this is completely new information to Johnny. 

If you had some emotional strength left, you might worry about that. Might try to figure out some way to diffuse the situation and make sure he’s not offended by Simon’s glaring overstep, but you don’t. Your boyfriend has chosen this day of all days to go around Mr. Collins-ing Johnny, and you’re not in a position to do anything about it.

Besides, it lights a little spark of hope in your chest, that you’ll get another chance to make everything alright.

“Yeah,” Johnny says slowly, like he’s still processing the idea. “Yeah… alright.”

The first spot of heat from the car begins to warm your feet, and all you can do is exist. 

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

“Got one of those speed settings,” Johnny promises, rummaging around his dresser for a pair of sweatpants. “Have ‘em clean and out the dryer in an hour.”

“Thank you. Really.” Your bare legs clamp together a little tighter for warmth, peeking out from beneath Simon’s enormous black coat. “And thanks for letting us crash your place in the meantime. I know it’s— Well, I know Simon didn’t exactly ask first.”

You keep your eyes on his face, on that vaguely happy expression that you suspect now is just his usual mask to keep people out. You should have known, really, but he’s different from other people you’ve met. He’s figured out how to avoid suspicion unless you look really close.

“It’s nothing. Get these on, and I’ll make you a tea.” He glances a little too long at your eyes as he hands you that bundle of clothes, as if they look as tender as they feel. His expression slips a little right then, the corner of his mouth going tight with concern.

So you hold his gaze, attempting to convince him with some excessive eye contact that you’re actually doing much better, and he doesn’t need to worry at all. “Tea sounds great.”

Tea does not sound great. Cocooning yourself in blankets and scrolling on your phone until you forget why you’re sad sounds great. Getting kissed and cuddled and then sleeping for about twelve hours sounds great. But anything is better than the evening you thought you were going to have, crying into your pillow over your monumental failures.

To his credit, Johnny doesn’t hover. The door soon clicks shut behind him, and you can finally exhale. Tossing the sweatpants onto the bed, you eagerly flop yourself down beside them, squashing your face flat to the mattress on purpose so you won’t be able to breathe.    

You’re on Johnny’s bed, in the least sexy situation you can imagine. Bare, slightly sticky thighs, one sock coming off a little bit, hair messed up and eyes raw. And now your lungs are also burning, because you’ve decided to hold your breath, because you’re dramatic.  

Absently, your fingers curl open and closed on the blanket, giving you pleasant sensory feedback to counter the ache in your chest. 

You want someone touching you. Not necessarily in a sexual way, just some kind of contact to focus on and settle your nerves. You didn’t get to cry quite long enough to reach a state of numbness, and now you’re just unsatisfied, exposed and hungry. Your skin feels like the rough side of velcro, waiting for someone to brush up against it so you can snag them.

Too soon, you’re forced to raise your head and suck in some air. Your eyes land absently on Johnny’s bedside table, and you frown in confusion.

Is that?...

No way.

You quickly army crawl across the mattress to peer down at – exactly what you thought it was – the same sort of hobby things you have at home, shoved haphazardly into the top drawer so that some of it is poking out. So that’s how he’s able to show up to your house all those weeks ago, immediately proficient. ‘Never done this before,’ your ass. 

Maybe it’s a little spiteful and childish, but you use that as permission to snoop. You open the drawer all the way and quickly glance over the annoying, perfect lines of his project, before casting your eyes over the other contents.

Johnny’s got a similar knife to the one Simon has in his night stand, along with some mismatched notebooks and pencils, a few receipts, and condoms and lube. Two boxes of condoms and two different types of lube, to be specific. 

You shove the drawer shut as fast as you can, but it’s too late. There’s no avoiding the uncomfortable vision of Johnny having sex with someone else, in this bed. 

It should have been you.

Stop it.

It should be you, tonight. 

He said he’s done, though.

You’re pretty sure you could convince him.

Respecting people’s boundaries is the bare minimum standard for loving them.

Do you love him?

Suddenly, you can perfectly hear Simon’s voice in your head, scattering the flurry of thoughts with a long suffering, ‘Fuckin’ ‘ell.’

He’s right. You’re being dumb, and you aren’t in the right mind to make any sort of important decision. So you do the smart thing, and wander into Johnny’s bathroom to wash the sugar residue off your legs. You fix your hair as best you can, rid yourself of the coat, and then pull on Johnny’s soft, spare clothes. 

You need Simon. That’s exactly what you need, because that’s an actual resource you have, with no strings attached. You don’t have to think, when you’re with him. 

Like a heat-seeking missile, you make your way out of the bedroom in search of a comforting pec to rest your cheek on. There’s Johnny, busy doing something in the tiny kitchen. There’s the TV, playing football of course. And there’s Simon, relaxed and spread out in the only chair, which is a huge problem. He’s not supposed to be sitting by himself, he’s supposed to be saving you a spot on the couch, as your designated comfort person. 

You judge your options as you walk, glancing at the leather couch, and practically shivering at the cold isolation of it. 

Surely Simon knows you’re sad. He must realize he needs to be available to you, so it’s the reasonable thing to go out of your way to get extra close as you walk past his chair. You calculate your steps to slow at the right moment, so he can reach out and pull you into his lap. 

No dice. You make your way over the entire stretch of carpet without a single movement from Simon, or greeting, or any other of the hundred ways he could invite you over to himself. 

Hurt and annoyed, you plop your ass down on the couch as far from him as possible, and stare resolutely at the commercial playing on the TV. 

Boyfriend, what a joke. More like boy-acquaintance who shares a bed with you. Can’t be bothered to give you a hug on the worst night ever, obsessed with watching stupid footballers run down a stupid field and never score any goals.

Naturally, you curl your feet under you and cuddle yourself into the corner of the couch to cope. Best to compress yourself into a ball and communicate that you don’t need him, either. You’re fine. You’re at your ex-fuck-buddy’s apartment and he’s been fucking other people in his bed, and everything’s totally, completely fine. 

There’s a movement in your peripheral vision, and you’re such a bleeding-hearted sucker that you instantly whip your head around, hoping Simon has finally—

Nope. He meets your eyes with that familiar, disaffected stare as he finishes raising a bottle of beer to his lips. 

Motherfucker.

“Are you avoiding me?” you shoot at him, whispering the words quietly enough not to carry past the two of you.

Simon does that slow blink that’s his version of an eye roll, swallowing his sip. “Negative.”

Okay, but there’s an expanse of cold, empty cushion next to you, and you’re lonely.

“Hungry?” Johnny asks, emerging from the kitchen area with a mug of something in one hand, and a plate in the other. 

He doesn’t wait for your agreement, just sits right down next to you and puts his socks up on the coffee table. “Got some bread and cheese, and tea. Not sure how you like it, but G–uh–Simon puts all sorts of sugar in his, and I thought I’d spare you.”

You can’t help but smile over at Johnny’s offerings, the way he’s using his thigh as a table for your snacks. “This is… very nice. Thank you, Johnny.”

A​​utomatically your eyes flick up to his face, catching on the authentic, happy smile he’s directing at you. He’s never had you over before, not on purpose at least. It feels almost like something important, the fact that you’re here. If only you had the brain power to consider all the possible angles, you’d be able to figure it out.

Instead, you munch on the mediocre cheese and the very good bread, sip on the tea that’s really not so bad. You suspect Johnny just made tea for you the same way he makes it for himself. Sweet, with a little bit of milk. It warms you right up. 

“Did you do any acting when you were a kid?” you ask around a mouthful. 

Johnny finds the question as funny as you’d hoped, smiling as he steals a drink of your tea. “Nah.”

“You sure? There’s this show called Teletubbies, with this sun that’s a baby…”

“You’re full of it.”

“Do a baby laugh, so we can check.”

Johnny gives you a reproachful look, which you barely notice over the chuckling from the direction of the chair.

“I’ll keep my reputation the way it is, thanks.”

“When we’re alone,” you agree conspiratorially. 

Johnny groans with what you hope is pretend annoyance, looping his arm around your neck to lean you into him and kiss your hair. “When we’re alone,” he whispers back, in that joking-but-not-really sort of way.

“I missed you, too,” you mumble, heart starting to race at the risk you’re taking.

And to your surprise, Johnny just leans his head around and kisses you, before the words have even had a chance to land anywhere. 

Stubbly lips on your tingly, swollen ones. A blossom of something warm and liquid in your chest. A very male, very happy noise breathed into your mouth. 

Balance in the universe.

Fingers find your neck, sweeping comfortingly across your throat. You settle into the kiss, don’t dare stop any of it, because that’s when the uncertainty will take hold. If you stop kissing him, then you’ll have to think, so you just keep pressing your lips to his, respecting the slow pace he’s set, and waiting for him to lick against your tongue.

The plate must have vanished into thin air, because when Johnny pulls your knee up over his hips, there’s just you and him, and nothing in between. Dry and warm and melting into each other, you settle your pussy atop the hard bulge in his pants and hold him tightly in your arms.

It’s okay, your body says to his body, fingers sliding into his hair. Let’s just touch each other, and we’ll figure out the rest later. 

His mohawk has grown out a bit since the last time you felt it. It’s turned a little wavy and rough in your fingers, the sides of his head losing that velvet texture it had when it was freshly buzzed. 

Things have changed, you can feel it. He’s different now, his movements hesitant, his hands vibrating slightly as they coast down your thighs. It almost feels like something’s wrong, except that every time you try to pull back and get a look at him, he just crushes you closer, gets his hands under your shirt and starts feeling you up. 

You let him, because you want it. You want to connect with him again, give him that mindless pleasure and let him feel how right your body is for his body. 

Soon you’re topless and braless, basking in his attention, his tongue in your mouth, the dampness between your legs. You don’t want to fuck him in his bed, and be reminded of all the others who came before. You just want to make love to him right here, surrounded by the scattered snacks and tea, the signs of his caring nature. He’s a good person, and you’ll make him face it, see it reflected back at him because you’re the same.

“Need a condom,” he says hoarsely, when you’ve just got the button on his pants undone. 

“It’s okay, I’m still on the pill.” Your fingers find him through his underwear, stroking that poor, bunched up cock. 

“No, we n-need one, this time. Until I can get tested.”

Oh. Because he must have been having unprotected sex with other people. You draw your head back to get a look at his face, the eyes that suddenly can’t meet yours. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him, because it is. Yes, it hurts to know. Yes, you’d like to use a condom for more than just your sake. But you never expected him to stay celibate. In all those days of grief and pain, the thought crossed your mind a few hundred times.

Johnny shakes his head a little, staring down at the cushion beside him. 

“Johnny, it’s okay.”

The noise that bursts out of him shocks you, a deep, snorted sob. You gape in surprise as Johnny’s hands shoot to his face, and he does it again, shoulders shaking. 

“Baby,” you whisper, and Johnny starts to cry.

Next Part

Dividers by the-aesthetics-shop

[nanamisgirly]

imagine nerd!Choso, you both are in the same degree. he didn't really noticed you at first but, for some unknown reasons, he kept bumping into you— wether in the hallway or you'd be few rows in front of him during lectures. And just like that, he developed an obsession toward you. and might god forgive him, but he couldn't help jerking off his cock at the thought of his length disappearing between your lips, eyes flickering up at him with a teasing glint. he was kind of sad you didn't even know he existed :/

but how lucky! in one of your lesson, the teacher assigned a partnered project. and fortunately, the duo were made with a randomized system!! Choso did not think twice, with some quick manipulation on his computer, he paired himself…with you! almost too easy

on your side tho, you had never heard the name Choso before. So when you reached out to set up a time for the project, you didn't expect much of it. But now…sitting across from him…his wide figure looming over the table, inked arms straining against the ridiculous tightness of his shirt…that was another story. How hadn't you noticed such a pretty face?? sharp eyes lined with kohl, two messy buns with some rebellious strands framing his beautiful features, and perfect dark purple painted nails tapping against the table. ‘am i blind or sum?’ you wondered. 

nerd!Choso was originally awkward with social interaction but more so when it came to you. He clears his throat "I- uh," he started, voice trembling "f-for the work, would you like t-t- to…" his cheeks flushed an adorable pink as you stared at him, giving him time to formule his thoughts ‘such a cute boy’ you mused.

"we can do it at my home!" he suddenly blurted out, words rushed, as if the poor man hadn’t said it now, he never would have :( "i- i mean, t-the assignment! o-of course..." he was so embarrassed of himself, his hands nervously cupping his warm milk chocolate "if— if you want to.." his eyes darted anywhere but yours, unable to hold your gaze. not when you were looking so intently, like you were seeing right through him. because what if you had some superpowers, the kind to read his horny thoughts, the kind to know exactly how many times he fucked his fist to the image of your pretty mouth stuffed full of his aching cock. catastrophe!!!!

nerd!Choso was blushing furiously, messier, stuttering over his words more than usual when you were unconditionally giving your best to give the man a gooood ride. “p-p-please” he whined, voice breaking. You leaned in, your breath warm against his ear “tell me, my pretty shy boy…what are you begging for, hmm? use your words, pretty". 

choso's hands gripped your thighs like a lifeline, fingers digging into your skin. “y-you— mngh, it's— it's too good. i can't last— i— please,” he choked out, eyes glossy as you slammed your hips down harder. His happy trail rubbed against your clit with every grind. the friction giving you as much pleasure as him.

“preeetty boy," you cooed, trying to maintain your composure despite having his fat dick stretching you enough to see stars. “is this what you've been thinking about the whole year? me riding you? or even better,” your mouth went for his neck, licking softly, contrasting with the pulsing grip of your cunt, milking his cock. "touching yourself to the thought of my glossy lips wrapped around your pathetically big dick ?" your voice was so sensual "tell me, tell me and i'll give you what you want” that man was moaning, the sluttiest moans escaping his throat. in response, your walls clenched harder, trying to suck him in even deeper at this point. “i— i was— i mean, i- fuckfuckfuck" choso were sur he lost the ability to form a simple sentence, his head falling back as he felt his tip kissing your cervix. but he tried his best to continue "i— i was…pumping my— my cock at the- mngh, thought o-of you..t-takin' me…d-d-deep,” poor boy was losing his mind. You've never seen a man being that pussy drunk, so openly lost into you, that was addicting.

your fingers trailed over his inked pecs, moving along the curves of his tattoos making their way to his nipples, and you pinched. not too rough to hurt but enough to send jolts of pleasure through his body. “look at this good boy," you sighed, feeling choso throbbing inside you. "earned the right to cum inside me… would you like that?”. 

you loved teasing him. he was a total whimpering, fucked out mess beneath you. ‘so cute’

nerd!Choso was as sur as the sky is blue that you had superpowers, somehow. and you both sur as well scored a beautiful A on the assignment.

(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[girlyhornywriter]

Pushing her buttons...

Imagine having a button you could press that magically makes you fatter, by like +1 pound. That'd be neat, right? I wonder where you would draw the line and finally stop pressing it.

I mean, the first dozen presses would just be so you can test if it's actually working. One or two probably wouldn't feel like much, but by the time you hit the double-digits of extra pounds gained, you'd probably feel the extra tightness in your pants. Maybe your shirt would ride up a little bit because your belly and tits have grown a little bigger, but it wouldn't be anything *crazy*. Even after 12 presses, you'd still basically feel the same. Maybe your balance would be a little off with the extra weight, but nothing you can't deal with. If you put a hand on your midriff, you'd notice it bulging out more, and that it's softer and fleshier than you're used to, but all in a good way.

Being realistic though, you wouldn't stop there, would you? You've dreamed of stuff like this. An opportunity to make yourself *so* much fatter is just too tempting for you to pass up. Maybe you'd try to resist the temptation for a while, but we both know you'd fold under the pressure and start pressing it again. Fast.

You'd get undressed and stand in front of a mirror so you could watch your figure swell with dozens of extra pounds of soft, pale blubber. You'd hold your belly in one hand while you press the button with the other. Press after press, you feel it push out just a little bit further. It'd feel softer and softer in your hands as your gut grows heavier and jigglier.

Now you're thirty pounds heavier than you started, and you're *really* starting to notice the results now. Your belly hangs over your thighs quite a lot further than you remember, and your ass is looking so fat when you get a good look at yourself from the side. Stopping now crosses your mind, but you quickly dismiss it; your tits might be bigger, but they're not really big enough yet, and you're still only at "BBW" size anyway. You can handle some more pressing.

Click by click, you feel yourself growing heavier. Your belly has gotten so big and blubbery that it starts to fold into two thick rolls, giving you a definite double-belly that you can't wait to show off to your girlfriend when she gets home. In the meantime though, you keep pressing the button. You've lost track of the exact number at this point, but you think you're somewhere around 60 pounds heavier than when you started (it's actually closer to 80). You look at your doughy belly and thighs being groped by your hand in the mirror, and notice how much pudgier and softer your hand is starting to look. Nothing is immune to the weight you're piling on, and that just makes you even hornier. You resume clicking it.

Another thirty pounds make their way onto your figure when you stop again, this time because your gaze drifted upwards towards your face. Your cheeks look so much fuller now, giving your face a decidedly rounder shape. Your double-chin is much more pronounced than it used to be; your jawline is completely buried under a thick layer of chubbiness at this point, and you can't help but smile about it. It feels so good to be so much more... *plush*.

You tell yourself that you'll give yourself twenty more presses, then you'll quit. But once you get there, you decide... maybe just a few more. So you press it *another* ten times. Then you notice how close your breasts are to touching when you're sitting down, and can't help but want to see them finally become big enough to rub against each other as you walk. So you keep pressing it. Not really paying attention to the number any more, just to your breasts, as they get heavier and softer and rounder with every click.

Finally, it happens.

Not your breasts touching, like you were waiting for. The chair you were sitting on breaks instead. You hadn't heard it creaking as your fat ass grew ever fatter and heavier with every click of the button. It just hadn't crossed your mind that your furniture had already been struggling against your mass before you got this button. Now though, it had finally given up...

You decided this was your sign to call it quits - you should dust yourself off and think yourself lucky that you didn't do something stupid and make yourself absolutely massive. You drag yourself up onto your feet with a lot more difficulty than you expected, then push the shattered remains of the chair aside with your foot. You check your ass and thighs for any damage, but aside from the massive amount of extra cellulite now occupying them, and the angry red stretchmarks that have suddenly become even more omnipresent across your body, you seem to be fine. You look down for the button, but can't see it anywhere among the debris. You look around the room, when you finally spot it.

Your girlfriend is in the doorway, holding it in her hand.

"I like what you've done to yourself, babe" she says with a smile, her gaze travelling up and down your now much fatter figure, eyeing your new curves and rolls with glee. She licks her lips. "I wonder how you got so big, so fast, princess... Could it be this, maybe?" She presses the button.

Maybe you could have denied the effect the button had just had on you, if it wasn't for the fact that at that moment, the panties you had been wearing finally gave up, shredded by your immense girth with an audible rip and leaving you exposed to your girlfriend in more ways than one. The smile on her face broadens.

"I think I get the picture... Well, shall we see what this thing can do?" She starts clicking the button as fast as her fingers are capable of. Ten pounds, twenty pounds, thirty pounds, you feel your body swelling with the extra mass second by second as she starts to giggle. You try to run towards her, but you're far too fat now to move so quickly, so all you can do is waddle gracelessly towards her as she easily evaded your attempts to grab the button from her hand. You reach the doorway and look down at your expanding body, in awe at just how much of the weight seems to be going straight to your belly rolls. Your thickening paunch slaps against your thickened thighs as you keep trying to pursue your mischievous girlfriend. She escapes into the living room, and you follow her, your steps growing heavier with every click that echoes through your ears.

By the time you corner her in front of the couch, the click count must be at 250 by now, and you're feeling every ounce of the blubber she has poured onto your body. You're exhausted and breathless from trying to catch her, and she can see you're close to collapsing. She speeds up the pace of her clicking, holding the button high above her head where you have no hope of reaching it. You make one final lunge, hoping to swipe it from her hand before you're too fat to stand...

But you miss.

You lose your balance and stumble towards the couch, where you drop heavily onto the straining frame. Your ass takes up far more of space than you're used to and you sink deep into the soft cushions, hearing creak as it settles under your immense bulk. Your girlfriend stands over you, victorious.

"I think that couch had a max weight rating of 800 lbs, didn't it? Shall we test that?"

As much as you struggle against your own fattened figure, you can't haul your fat ass and gut off of the couch. You're just too heavy, and only getting heavier as she presses the button over and over and over again. Your thighs press together even as you try to spread them as wide as possible; your belly fills your entire lap and just keeps spilling out further and further over the edge of the couch; and your tits keep swelling too, easily exceeding G-cups in size with no signs of stopping.

Eventually, inevitably, the couch gives way to your blubber-laden body. You sink down even further as the couch breaks right down the middle, leaving you in a V-shaped dip, helplessly trapped by your hundreds of new pounds of fat and cellulite. Your hands grope your thick rolls of flab and you feel a strange mix of horror and arousal at how soft and jiggly you are now, *all over*.

Your girlfriend looks very pleased with herself.

"I hope you're comfy, big girl, because you're not going to be doing much walking from now on. I was always hoping I could get you to fatten up for me, to turn you into my stay-at-home piggy, too fat to do anything but make herself even fatter. It was always just a pipe dream, but apparently, dreams really *do* come true...

"I'll let you stay like this until I can find us a bed that can handle the massive whale of a girl like you've become. Once I've got you settled there though, I'm going to give this thing a couple hundred more clicks.

"You'll be so helpless and useless, but don't worry, princess. I'll make sure you know how much I love every single inch of you."

[comicaurora]

Hey, firstly I just wanted to say I’ve been consuming your content for years and thank you and Blue for being the only thing that kept my academic brain from turning to mush during online COVID middle school!

But I’m entering a new academic era, notably Junior year of my very rigorous collage prep program at my high school. I’ve always thought I would go to collage after high school but I’ve recently stumbled into some very interesting ways of making a living only perusing my creative passions (some very scary publishing opportunities). So I’ve been wondering if I actually want to go to collage or not, since going to collage just to be a published writer is an objective waste of money and I don’t want to spend the rest of high school breaking my neck earning collage credits I’m not going to use.

So I was wondering, if you had known you could make a living only perusing your creative passions, would you have spent the time, money and academic energy going to collage for something you didn’t end up doing professionally?

(I would ask my advisor but he’s too obviously pro collage and doesn’t have any experience making a living creatively).

(Sorry for the long ask)

No problem about the long ask! This is a very good question!

I'll start with the short answer, which is that nobody can make this decision but you, and if you decide not to go to college right now, that does not mean you are deciding to never go to college. Especially with Covid, plenty of people are taking gap years, and plenty of full-on adults go to college later in life, simply because the mood strikes them, or they now have income to burn, or they're interested in a career change, etc. This is not a coinflip that will decide the trajectory of the rest of your life.

For the longer answer, for me personally? Knowing I'd be able to earn a living doing art would have no bearing on my decision to go to college. Setting aside that a ton of the literary analysis my job is based on is skills I learned in college, I liked college because it gave me the opportunity to learn a wide swath of things, from anthropology courses to dinosaur science. I like learning new things! College was an opportunity to learn a ton of new things, and even if it was very challenging in places, I thrived in it. I didn't go to college with the goal of becoming qualified for a Real Job - because of who I am as a person I think I'd seriously struggle at most Real Jobs, and I knew that even back then. I was in college to learn, and to learn how to learn. I got my degree in mathematics, a thing I do not use in my Job, but the functionality of mathematics - to logically reason through problems, step by step, comparing it to known problems to map the way to solutions using operations that preserve truth - is an invaluable skill that I apply everywhere there are problems to solve, especially literary analysis. I learned a wide swath of tools with surprising applications, and I couldn't have known when I started how I might use them in the end.

However, there's a big caveat there. This was my personal experience of college as a playground where I could work towards a solid major and also branch out to take weird one-off electives and summer courses when anything struck my fancy. But I was in on a scholarship to cover a good chunk of my tuition, and one of my relatives very kindly paid for the rest. I got to do college without accruing any college debt, and that is an enormous factor. I can only share my personal take, but I'm not going to pretend that things would have been the same if I'd had to enter adulthood finding a way to quickly pay off a six-figure sum.

I've been extremely lucky to get to the point where I can navigate life in a way where money is very rarely something I need to worry about. It was certainly not always like that, and I do not miss those times, but it invariably shapes the way I see the world and the steps I took to get here. For me personally, I do not consider college in any way a waste of time; I think the opportunity to learn is one of the most exciting things out there. But my experience cannot be pretended to be universal.

This decision is yours, and it is also not final. Whatever choice you make, you can always choose again later. You have time.

[butterflyscribbles]

Wachowski Family HC List

Part 1: The Wachowski Origins

Buckle up bc I’m going way back straight out of the gate….the Wachowski family wouldn’t exist without two certain soulmates coming together after all.

- Let’s start from the very beginning….Tom and Maddie have at least known each other since grade school. In high school, they were part of the same friend group but Maddie had been dating someone else at the time. Tom had girlfriends “come and go” as his mom put it, but was single most of senior year.

- Tom was already en route to becoming a sheriff, having it run in the family and with his other two “lunatic” brothers on their way in to very different directions, he was on the way to being the lone and youngest Wachowski left to “defend Green Hills” once his dad retired. I lowkey feel like it’s actually something he never really wanted to do. It was more of a family obligation. However, he did like helping people (and he didn’t want to go to college) that was really the biggest draw for him lol.

- Maddie was the resident biology and animal nerd in her class. Her dad was a park ranger that worked closely with Tom’s dad at the sheriff’s office, especially for hunting/fishing license issues and animal control type calls. Watching her dad work was where she developed a love for nature and decided she wanted to be a vet.

- It wasn’t until one night senior year at a house party, Maddie’s boyfriend at the time dumped her just before prom. Tom, being a close friend and the upstanding “punch first, questions later” kind of guy we know he is, started a fight with the jerk that broke her heart. He skeedaddled with her from the party before Tom’s dad showed up to break everything up. ✨That was spark #1✨ They continued talking and hanging out more after that (it was also since then Rachel has been giving Tom the side eye).

- High school graduation came and went, Maddie went off to college and Tom stayed in Green hills and started training to become a deputy. He and Maddie kept in touch even when she was off studying. When she came back into town to visit her family, they would hang out and catch up.

- Tom’s dad passed away not long after he graduated and things were a bit rough for Tom at this point. His oldest brother didn’t even show up to the funeral and his other brother didn’t help much with the process. Maddie was a beacon of light in this darker point of his life.

- One weekend while he’s out driving with her during this time, they come across a fawn by the side of the road that (very clearly) lost its mom. Tom was an emotional wreck, not wanting to leave it behind. Maddie calmly helped scoop it up in some spare blankets in the back of his car and they took it to her dad so he could find the proper wildlife rehabilitator to send it to. ✨That was spark #2✨ They started dating the next day.

- Skip ahead a bit, they’re big in love. They move into a small condo type deal together once Maddie graduates college and starts veterinary school. Tom is working his three jobs to help her pay tuition: as a police officer, part time at a local sewing shop his mom used to work at, and taking odd jobs around town mowing, doing car repairs, landscaping work. He’s exhausted, she’s exhausted, but they love each other sm….they’re married 2 years later after he proposes on a camping trip (guess who was already on Earth and witnessed the proposal but was too young to even know what it meant at the time).

- Jump again, they buy their house after Maddie has been working as a full time vet for a while and Tom is promoted to sheriff.

- Maddie’s parents are both still alive and together though her dad is retired. Her mom wrote for the Green Hills newspaper for a good while on top of taking care of her and Rachel. Tom’s mom is also still kicking. She left her job at the locally owned sewing store when Tom’s dad passed and mostly just makes her living selling crafts and vegetables from her garden at the local farmers market while also giving local children sewing lessons. Tom is doing most of the supporting for her while getting some help from his one older brother who actually got his life together a bit and got a job in insurance. He moved back to Montana, but not to Green Hills. Tom hasn’t heard from his eldest brother in over a decade.

- They’ve been living in their house for about 8 years before the events of Sonic 1. They’re “too busy for kids” but they adopt Ozzy from a litter that was dropped off where Maddie works.

- Then we all know what happens next…

[00valentina-writes00]

Could you maybe write something about reader who is a virgin (like no previous sexual experiences at all) and sevika finding out during an intimate moment? You get the idea. 🥺🥺🎀

As always your work is amazing💌

♡♥︎Break You In Right♥︎♡

Warnings: Loss of virginity, first time, dirty talk, deep stretching, strong but gentle Sevika, emotional intimacy, explicit language.

You weren’t exactly subtle about wanting Sevika.

The way you looked at her—like you were already undressing her in your mind—had been driving her insane for months. The things you said, the filthy comments that dripped off your tongue whenever you sat too close to her at the Leaky Drop, the way you’d whisper things about how big she must be, how deep you wanted her to fuck you, how you’d take every inch like a good girl—

She figured you were experienced. Someone that bold, that shameless, couldn’t possibly be new to this.

So when she finally had you beneath her, your legs wrapped around her waist, your breath coming in short, needy gasps as she lined her strap up to your dripping cunt, she expected you to take it like you said you would.

But the second she tried to push in-

She felt it.

The resistance.

The sharp little sound you made.

She froze.

“Shit,” she muttered, realization hitting her like a fucking truck. She looked down at you, her brows furrowing. “You’re a virgin?”

Your face was already burning, your fingers digging into her broad shoulders. “I—I didn’t think it was a big deal—“

Sevika let out a rough exhale, shaking her head. Of course it was a big deal. She was about to split you open on her cock for the first time, and you didn’t even warn her?

But then she saw it—the nervous flicker in your eyes, the way your breath hitched, like you thought she might back out.

Like you thought she didn’t want you anymore.

She cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing over your flushed skin. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You swallowed, your voice small. “Didn’t want you to treat me like I’d break.”

Sevika huffed a quiet laugh. “Baby, you will break. That’s the whole point.” She leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to your lips, voice turning soft. “But I’ll make it good for you. Yeah?”

You nodded, relaxing under her.

Sevika took her time after that.

She pressed her mouth to your throat, dragging her tongue down, savoring the way you trembled when she licked a path down your stomach. She kissed lower, past your navel, until she reached the soft, thin trail of hair leading down between your legs.

“Cute,” she murmured against your skin, nipping at your hip before licking teasingly close to where you needed her most.

You whined. “Sev, please—”

She chuckled, dark and low, but she didn’t make you wait. She licked into you slow, deep, savoring the way you gasped when her tongue finally met your clit. She took her time, circling it, sucking gently, working you open with her fingers—one first, then another, stretching you, coaxing your body to relax before she even thought about giving you her cock.

She didn’t stop until you were shaking beneath her, your slick dripping down her fingers, your voice breaking as you moaned her name.

Only then did she sit back, stroking a hand over her stomach, down the happy trail leading to where her harness sat snug against her hips. She lifted your legs, hooking them over her forearms as she lined herself up again.

She pressed the tip against you, letting you feel it.

“This is gonna be a lot, baby,” she warned. “But you’re gonna take it. Yeah?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yeah.”

She pushed in slow.

You tensed immediately, a sharp little gasp slipping out, your fingers digging into her forearms. She was big—bigger than you realized, stretching you inch by inch, the burn making your thighs shake.

“Breathe,” Sevika murmured, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Relax for me.”

You forced yourself to, letting out a slow breath as she pushed deeper, filling you more, stretching you until she was buried to the hilt.

“Fuck,” she gritted out, voice strained. You were so tight, gripping her like a fucking vice. She held still, letting you adjust, watching every little change in your expression. “You okay?”

You nodded, eyes hazy, lips parted. “I feel so… full.”

Sevika smirked, pride flaring in her chest. “Yeah? You like that?”

You moaned as she pulled out just an inch before pressing back in.

Sevika cursed under her breath, forcing herself to go slow. She wanted to ruin you, wanted to see you cock-drunk and desperate, but this was your first time. She’d break you in, but she’d make sure you loved every second of it.

She rocked into you deep, slow, rolling her hips to make you feel every inch.

“That’s it,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re taking me so fucking good, baby.”

You moaned, arching into her.

She sped up just a little, watching the way your body responded, every little gasp and whimper making her blood run hot.

“Tell me how it feels,” she demanded, voice rough.

You gasped as she thrust in deep, your fingers tangling in her hair. “So good—so deep—Sevika—”

She groaned at the way you said her name, gripping your hips and snapping her hips a little harder.

Your moans turned high-pitched, breath hitching, your thighs trembling as you clung to her.

Sevika knew you were close. She could feel it, the way your body tightened around her, the way your moans turned desperate.

She reached between you, rubbing your clit in slow, firm circles.

“Come on, baby,” she coaxed, voice dripping with heat. “Cum for me.”

You shattered beneath her, a broken moan spilling from your lips as your whole body clenched around her.

Sevika groaned, fucking you through it, watching you fall apart on her cock for the first time.

She smirked as she leaned down, pressing her forehead against yours. “Told you I’d make it good for you.”

[cookingwithroxy]

It's also referred to as 'Breaking Immersion' (In that the blatant violation of reasonable standards takes you out of the narrative) and focuses on (as Stoat pointed out in the tags) ending the suspension of disbelief.

I would usually bring up the narrative element I learned of as 'The Big Lie' but everyone throws that around so often that it's hard to find anything online that uses the term that doesn't go into conspiracy theories but the principle is still easy to explain.

When you set up a story you can establish a thing that doesn't make sense in the real world, a thing that would be fictional. Be it magic, or superpowers, or honest cops, it's a framing element that you can hang everything around. And you can expand off of it, one superhero allows you to posit other superheroes, or supervillains. The framing device defines the setting.

BUT.

You can't start lying about the world in other parts without breaking the immersion. You can tell everyone that tech hasn't advanced because of other things that keep higher tech out of the hands of ordinary people, but you can't tell them that the heroes that save everyone's lives are just hated by everyone suddenly and without warning.

Genuinely don't know what it's called but there's a particular way of violating reality that doesn't work. For example, I am willing to accept an omegaverse university AU of nearly any fandom you care to name (except, for some reason, Sherlock, because I have an inexplicable hatred for unilock). However, a lot of Star Wars university AUs specifically fail on this aspect: they make Anakin an engineering PhD student and Obi-Wan something like literature or classics, and then they make Anakin his TA or GA.

You can't do that. Absolutely not. Anakin is unqualified for that and a university would not do it in any case. A university would literally hire a junior or senior undergraduate workstudy student to do as much of that work as possible first. They would do NOTHING other than do that and make the prof do all his own grading.

Is there a name for "I will accept [wild fantasy premise] but not [ordinary wrong thing]?" Please tell me there's a name for this. Probably someone who studies lit will know? I'm a systems person I don't know from lit theory just like Anakin

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

foggy windows and whispered words

a valentines weekend event fic!

bruce wayne x reader: a nighttime drive with your billionaire boyfriend turns into something steamier..

content level: fluffy with lots of kissing.

you squeal as your boyfriend, bruce wayne, takes another curve of the road at full speed. he chuckles, the engine roaring in response. his dark hair gleams in the flashes of moonlight shining through the open sunroof. wind whistles through the car as the numbers go up on the speedometer: 40, 45, 55, 60.. 

he finally slows as you come upon your destination: the overlook. 

you love simple dates like this, dates where your boyfriend isn’t too tired from being “mr. wayne” or those late evenings, in the office until 3 am evenings. he won’t let you visit him that late either, saying your sleep is important to him, and that you’d be utterly bored anyways. one of these days you’ll surprise him. you blink out of your thoughts as bruce turns the car off. 

“c’mon, lovely. let’s go.” 

you smile at him, unbuckling your seatbelt. his car door shuts with a snap as he starts over to your side. your door is pulled open, his hand extended for you to take. 

getting out of his low sports cars was sometimes a struggle for you, and (ever since you almost tripped and fell in front of a crowd) he’s made it a point to be there for you, a warm smile greeting you as his strong hand pulls you up. he brings you in close, arms circling your waist as he looks down at you. he’s got a strange look in his eyes, one you’re not very familiar with. his gaze darts around your face, studying your features, your expression. 

“what?” you wrinkle your nose, confused. 

“you look gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous, that’s ‘what.’” he growls out, pulling you impossibly closer. 

your cheeks heat at the nearness, at his words, at the way he’s looking at you. 

“thank you, baby.” 

your boyfriend smirks down at you, at your reaction.

“anytime, beautiful.” 

he releases you, a hand trailing down your arm to grab yours. you swing them while you stroll over to the railing, giggling and squirming away as he tries to poke your side. 

you reach the lookout point, stopping in your tracks as you take in the view. bruce stands by your side, his hand now at the small of your back. 

“wow,” you breathe out, just mesmerized. gotham looks so glamorous from here, the city lights sparkling and blurring together to create a glowing valley that highlights the familiar skyline. 

“like what you see?” the low rumble of your boyfriend’s voice reminds you to breathe as you look up at him. 

“i love what i see, are you kidding?” you weave your arm under his, looping it around his waist. 

“i never kid.” he puts on a stoic expression, face blank, eyes hard. 

you scoff at him, rolling your eyes. 

“i beg to differ.” 

at that he breaks, barking out a laugh that melts your heart, feeds your soul. your favorite sound. 

“that’s more like it, brucie.” you start towards the railing, tugging at your big boyfriend’s arm so he follows. he glances at you, a big smile still lingering on his lips. happy to go wherever you want, as usual.

you stop at the edge of the cliff, the city laid out before you. bruce’s hand is secured on your waist, but you’re used to it. that’s your boyfriend: always cautious, always watching. 

cool night air fills your lungs, and you release it with a contented sigh as the city lights twinkle below you. 

“thanks for bringing me up here,” you turn back to him, beaming. he can hear his heartbeat get louder. when did he become such a fool for you? and when had he stopped caring?

“anytime, love.” he replies, his words easy as he pats you on the lower back, squeezing you closer. 

you lose track of time, chattering away as bruce chimes in every now and then, cracking a joke or laughing at one of yours. he leans over you to help you see where wayne tower is in the skyline, his warm presence at your back: something so comforting to you. 

his phone rings, but he quickly silences it, sliding it back into his pocket. for such an important man, he somehow makes you feel as if you’re the most important person in the world. 

“hungry?” he asks. you shrug, nodding. 

“admired your fill?” you nod again, smiling up at him. he grabs your hand, starting towards the car again.

bruce pops open the backseat door, sitting down into the seat. a big hand pats his leg, looking at you—a hint of mischief in his eyes. you tentatively sit on his knee, confused, and before you can blink he’s pulled you into the car and shut the door. 

you smile, small but shining. his heart melts all over again as you lean in to kiss him on the cheek, one side, the other. next is his forehead, his nose, and then: his lips. pink, slightly parted, it seems as if kissing you always leaves him a bit breathless, even as early as your first date. 

he practices self-control a lot. in every facet, aspect, and part of his life, bruce wayne can have self control. 

but when it comes to you? all bets are off. 

he’s kissing you, hungry, like he always kisses you: with his full body. his hands roam your back, your waist, cupping your cheek, weaved into your hair. his legs hold you easily, steadily, never wavering. his back is lifted off the seat, despite you leaning your whole body weight into him. he’s pressing into you, every bit an active participant. his lips mesh with yours, pulling away every so often just to tease you, only to crash into yours harder when you tug him back in. 

he’s both consumed by you and trying to consume you, wanting to be with you more than anything in the world. he aches when he’s away from you, a deep chest pain that he’s only recently been able to put words to: love. he loves you. 

“i’m not used to letting myself feel this way, but i wanted, no, needed to tell you.” 

you nod, your eyebrows sewn together in the middle of your forehead 

he loses his nerve, pulling you in for another kiss, his lips crushing into yours. but you push him back, pushing him to be honest, to let you in. 

“what, baby?”

he sighs, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“i love you.” 

your eyes widen involuntarily, and in that tiny moment, bruce feels heartbreak. he was so blind to think you’d feel the same way, so stupid to hope for a future with you, a future where he tells you everything, holds you close as you fall asleep, wakes up every morning to you—

“i love you too.” you whisper, tugging at his ear lobe. you lean closer, like you’re letting him in on a secret. “i was waiting on you, bruce.” 

he’s not sure what to say, how to tell you that it feels like his life has finally started, how soon is too soon to ask for you to move in, and you shut up all of his thoughts with a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into yet another brain-melting kiss. 

“hi, this is bat burger, what can i get you?”

“a chocolate shake, a vanilla shake, and two orders of batburgers with medium—no, large fries, please.”

post divider: @graphicbloss

[princesseilish]

NOBODY GETS ME

Paige bueckers x Singer!Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, breakup aftermath, unresolved feelings, social media speculation, slow burn.

Synopsis: heavily based of “Nobody gets me” by SZA, because we love her, i know i do

Paige wasn’t sure why she even still checked. Muscle memory, probably.

She’d deleted every trace of Y/n from her social media. Unfollowed, untagged, erased. That should’ve been enough. That should’ve been closure. But somehow, against all logic, her thumb still hovered over Y/n’s name when she searched it up, heart sinking at the absence of the “Follow” button.

Gone.

That was the point.

And yet, no matter how many times she told herself she was over it, over her, the world wasn’t done shoving reminders in her face.

Y/n had been on tour for three weeks now. A massive success, sold-out venues, screaming fans—everywhere Paige turned, there was another clip, another article, another moment she tried to ignore.

But nothing hit harder than the song.

Nobody Gets Me.

The first time she heard about it, Azzi was the one who showed her. Of course it was Azzi.

They were in the locker room after practice, cooling down from a brutal session, when her best friend plopped down beside her, phone already in hand.

“Dude,” Azzi started, like she was trying to keep her voice casual, but Paige knew better. “You seen this yet?”

Paige barely spared the screen a glance. “Don’t care.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Azzi pressed play before she could stop it, and suddenly, Y/n’s voice filled the space between them.

“i don’t want to see you with anyone but me,”

Paige’s stomach twisted.

The video showed Y/n standing center stage, bathed in soft lighting, her fingers wrapped around a microphone. She looked different—hollow in a way that wasn’t just the stage design. Her eyes were closed, brows furrowed like the words physically hurt coming out.

“Nobody gets me like you”

Paige inhaled sharply, forcing herself to look away, but it was too late. The damage was done.

The crowd in the video sang the words back to her ex, voices full of emotion, but all Paige could focus on was the way Y/n’s voice cracked on the final chorus. The way she turned away from the mic for half a second, as if she was breaking right there in front of them all.

Azzi’s phone screen dimmed, but the silence between them stretched.

Paige clenched her jaw, shoving her water bottle back into her bag. “It’s just a song.”

Azzi hummed. “Sure.”

Paige tried not to think about it. Really, she did.

But it was impossible when the whole world seemed obsessed with connecting the dots for her.

“Y/n’s new song… definitely about her ex. But WHO??”

“Okay but be fr, Nobody Gets Me SCREAMS Paige Bueckers.”

“They were together for YEARS and just broke up. This song HURTS.”

Paige could ignore Twitter. She could ignore the fan edits, the TikToks, the thousands of comments dissecting every lyric.

But she couldn’t ignore the way it made her feel.

Because if she was being honest—painfully, brutally honest—Y/n was right.

Nobody did get her like Y/n.

Nobody understood the pressure she carried, the way basketball wasn’t just a game to her—it was everything. Nobody had been there from the start, back when she was just a kid with big dreams and shaky hands.

Nobody knew what it was like to fall asleep tangled together in the middle of winter, or to sit in the nosebleeds of an empty arena after a loss because Paige didn’t want to go home yet.

Nobody knew how Y/n used to trace circles on the inside of her wrist when she was anxious.

Nobody knew that Paige still reached for a body that wasn’t there when she woke up in the middle of the night.

So yeah.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly who the song was about.

And that was the problem.

Y/n knew what she was doing.

She knew from the moment she stepped onto that stage, from the second she let the first note slip past her lips.

She knew when she whispered, “This one’s personal,” into the mic before the first verse.

She knew.

And so did Paige.

That was the point.

Paige sat on her couch, wrapped in the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through her cracked blinds. The city outside felt like a constant hum, a reminder that nothing ever stopped, even though it felt like her whole world had.

She hadn’t expected this. Not today. But the number flashing on her screen was all too familiar.

3 AM.

Y/n.

She wasn’t sure why it had taken so long for the message to come through. So much time had passed since their breakup, and now here Y/n was again, calling her at an ungodly hour like it was the only time they could have a conversation that wasn’t filled with too many memories.

Her thumb hovered over the green button for a long moment, thoughts swirling in her head. She should ignore it. She shouldn’t even think about picking up. The last thing she needed was another conversation full of words they couldn’t take back. But that was always the thing about Y/n, wasn’t it? Even when she shouldn’t, even when it hurt, Paige still wanted to hear her voice.

She pressed the button.

“Hello?” Paige’s voice was hoarse, thicker than she meant it to be. She felt the weight of the past couple of months sitting on her chest.

“Paige…” The sound of Y/n’s voice, soft and unsure, made the space between them feel endless. “I—uh, I didn’t know who else to call.”

That was nothing new. Y/n had always been the one who knew exactly how to find Paige when she was at her lowest, when things felt unfixable.

But this wasn’t the same.

“I’m not… I’m not sure what you want from me,” Paige replied, not angry, just tired. “I thought we agreed this was it.”

“Yeah. I know,” Y/n whispered. “But this song—”

Paige clenched her jaw. She already knew where this was going. The song. Nobody Gets Me. The one that had followed her through every city on tour, through every game, through every article written about her and Y/n.

“You don’t get to play that card now,” Paige bit out, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. She regretted the words the moment they left her lips, but it didn’t change how she felt. “You can’t just come back into my life whenever you want because you wrote a song about me. You left.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Paige could hear Y/n breathing, slow and measured. “I didn’t mean to leave you,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know you didn’t,” Paige muttered. “But you still did.”

The silence between them felt like a void, a space neither of them knew how to fill anymore.

“I’ve been reading what people are saying…” Y/n started, hesitating, as if she didn’t want to continue. “They know it’s about you.”

“Great,” Paige said flatly. “Everyone’s got something to say about it, huh?”

Y/n laughed, but it was soft, almost bitter. “I don’t care about what they think, Pa—I mean, Paige.” She stumbled over her words like it hurt. “I didn’t do it for them. I did it for you. I don’t know how else to say this, but… I’m sorry for how everything ended. I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know if it can be fixed.”

Paige closed her eyes, the exhaustion of everything weighing her down. “I don’t know either,” she whispered. “I don’t even know if I want it fixed.”

Y/n let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t want to be the one to walk away, but I couldn’t stay either. I couldn’t be what you needed anymore.”

Paige could feel the tension in her chest tighten. So this is what it was, then. This is how they would end. With nothing left but the words that were said too late.

“You were always what I needed,” Paige said softly, before she even realized she had said it aloud. She cleared her throat. “It’s just not the same anymore.”

Y/n didn’t respond at first, and the silence felt heavy. She could hear the faint hum of a car passing outside, the far-off sounds of the city that never truly slept.

“I didn’t want to leave,” Y/n finally said. “But I couldn’t stay in something that was breaking me, too.”

Paige swallowed, the lump in her throat thick. “You should’ve told me that. I would’ve understood. But you didn’t. You just… disappeared. And now I’m left here, not knowing what happened. Not knowing where we went wrong.”

The honesty in Y/n’s voice hit like a punch to the gut. “I didn’t know how to say it.”

And just like that, the door they had slammed shut months ago creaked open again, just a little.

“I don’t want this to be over,” Y/n continued, and it was like the words were a plea. “I don’t want it to feel like… like we’re strangers.”

The vulnerability in her voice cracked through the anger and the hurt, and for the first time in a long time, Paige wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore.

She didn’t know if she could go back, if they could really make it work. But hearing Y/n’s voice, hearing the pain, the regret, made her feel like there was a possibility that maybe they could find their way through this mess, no matter how long it took.

“I don’t know how to start over with you, Y/n,” Paige said softly. “But I guess… I guess I don’t want to lose you either.”

Another long silence stretched between them. Neither of them knew what came next.

“I’ll see you when I see you,” Y/n whispered, her voice thick, breaking just slightly as if she was trying to hold back the tears she couldn’t let fall.

And with that, the line went quiet.

Paige stared at her phone in the dark, her heart pounding in her chest.

They were far from any kind of resolution, but for the first time in months, she wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing.

[pupmurdock]

Confused was too simple of a word for what Matt was feeling. Disappointed? Angry? Ashamed? every possible negative emotion coming up from one simple question.

"What's your plans for tonight?"

Foggy's question felt like ice water thrown in Matt's face.

"Why?" Matt asked, his mind still stuck on the case that sat in front of him. Obviously his plans were to keep working on his case. It was just a normal Friday. Oh, was Matt so very wrong.

"It's Valentine's day. First one since you got married, huh buddy?" Foggy gently teased his friend, his own coat being pulled over his shoulders as he and Karen packed up their things to go home.

Matt sat in silence for a few too many seconds before Foggy and Karen both froze where they stood outside Matt's office door. "Oh, Matt.... Buddy.... did you forget?" Foggy prodded gently as he watched Matt's forehead scrunch up.

That was why you'd been cold this morning. That was why you'd left his apartment without giving him all those extra kisses that usually made him late for work.... that was why you'd been asking him all week what he planned to do on Friday...

That was also why, when he'd agreed to help Frank with a mission tonight, Frank kept checking that he was actually free. Shit.... Shit shit shit. And this was his first Valentine's day married and you were not only planning to spend it without him, but you were clearly devastated about it too.

Matt knew he was in the dog house when he tried to call you on his speedy walk home and you didn't answer. Karen and Foggy had tried to suggest restaurants that might still have reservations available, but nothing was. So Matt tried the best he could, getting a bottom of the barrel bouquet of flowers, some last option chocolates... anything to make it look like he hadn't forgotten.

Then he got home, expecting to hear you, to smell your perfume or hear the old records you like to listen to. All he was met with was the smell of salt... your tears... and a microwave dinner that was long gone by now. His phone's clock gruesomely reminded him that not only was it Valentine's day, but he was WAY too late getting home.

When he opened the door, you didn't greet him, you didn't turn to look at him, he could hear your angry breaths echoing against the glass windows. You had an expensive bottle of wine open and half drank and some half eaten chocolate covered strawberries. God, he fucked up.... He fucked up big time...

"Frank stopped by." You said simply, still not even turning to greet Matt as he took off his shoes and his coat, putting his half assed attempt at retribution on the kitchen counter. "He brought the strawberries. Said that he didn't need your help tonight..." You mumbled and Matt's heart felt like it shattered as he heard the break in your voice. You were about to start crying again, but not out of sadness, out of anger.

"Baby, i-" Matt tried to explain himself but he couldn't. it's not like you were subtle with your hints all week, making a point to wear nice lingerie to bed, making mentions of the pretty red dress you never got the chance to wear... asking him to be your Valentine.

"You made plans to spend your Valentine's day with Frank. I get it. Go spend it with him. I don't care. The city needs you or whatever bull shit you wanna excuse yourself with. Fine. I'll be here like I always am." You were pissed. Matt could feel it before he even entered the apartment. The heat in the air from your anger mixed with his guilty conscious were making Matt's brain light up with blaring alarms. "At least he had the decency to wish me a happy Valentine's day. I almost considered asking him to dinner." You mumbled as you stared out at the snow that dusted the billboard across the street.

"Honey... I know there isn't really an excuse I could give here. And I'm not going to. Simply put, I was too in my own world to remember-"

"Clearly. Because why would you remember your wife at home? Who would remember such an integral part of their life? Who would remember to wear their wedding ring on the day of Love?" You added and that struck a chord with Matt... he was never a ring-wearer. it always kind of slipped his mind unless he left it on before falling asleep. But now that ring felt like a beacon of his failures where it sat on his nightstand.

Matt didn't know how to respond. He knew his caseload was hefty this week, but so was Foggy's and Matt knew full well that Foggy and Marci were sitting in some high end restaurant right now eating their fancy desserts. And here Matt stood with some shitty wilted flowers and some practically inedible chocolates, trying to figure out how to make his wife hate him just a little less.

Matt's throat felt dry... he felt utterly clueless on how to fix this. But he knew he needed to. Hugging you was a bad idea. Smothering you at this point felt like it could only backfire tenfold. He needed to apologize but all his brain could come up with was excuses which he knew you were in no mood to hear. So he sighed and walked towards the kitchen. But then he paused at the record player.

He leaned down and grabbed for the records. As he sifted through them, he could hear you sipping from the wine you'd bought. He found the one he was searching for. He placed it on the player and turned it on. He took a deep breath as he placed down the needle. The old scratch of the needle against the record as it started to play, got your attention. The first couple beats made your heart rate speed up and Matt only hoped it was a good reaction. The sounds echoed in the now tense space. The song? The same one you two had your first dance to at your wedding. Smokey Robinson & The Miracles 'Ooo Baby Baby'.

He adjusted the volume a bit, making sure it wasn't too loud. You made no move to even turn to face him, but he could clearly hear your sniffles as a couple tears fell down your cheeks.

He slowly stepped around the kitchen counter and towards you. He knew he was treading into your territory now. but you said nothing. He took the lack of fight as an allowance to step closer.

As soon as he was close enough to reach out and touch you, he paused. "Baby..." he said quietly, only to be met with a sniffle. "Sweetheart... I know I messed up. Time escaped me. I know I fucked up and you can yell at me all you want if that's what you want..." Matt said softly before taking one last hesitant step. You had your back to him, but you were only inches apart now.

After a couple seconds, you let out a sigh. "You really did fuck up." You agreed and let out a little scoff of a laugh. But you were laughing nonetheless and that was a good sign. "I should've gotten you a calendar you can actually read for Christmas." You joked a little bit before he felt you lean your back against his chest.

He knew he didn't deserve your forgiveness so easily. but that didn't mean he wasn't ecstatic when you finally leaned into him. His hands found your hips and he leaned down, putting his chin on your shoulder. "Is there anyway I can make it up to you?" He asked softly, turning to press a small testing kiss to your cheek.

You let out a long sigh and laid your hands against his, pulling his arms to fully wrap around your waist. "Matt... I knew what I was getting into when I married you... I know how busy your work is... both of them. I just... I had hoped I'd be higher on your priority list.." You mumbled softly as Matt slowly dipped his head, leaving a couple small kisses on your neck.

Matt gently nudged his nose against your neck. "Baby... I do what I do to make sure that you're always safe. and I know I hurt you in the process. I know I made you feel unloved and unnoticed and that I fucked up. You can call me an idiot or kick and scream. I understand." Matt said, his voice clearly guilty as he knew he was ready to take any form of anger or resentment that you had for him.

But you didn't. When you shook your head and let out a sad laugh, he seemed confused. "You know I would never hurt you. And kicking and screaming has never solved any of our problems. We can always go out to dinner tomorrow... I'm just glad you're home finally." You mumbled and turned in his arms, pulling him into a hug, one he didn't even think he deserved. "I love you, even when you're being an idiot." You mumbled and leaned up on your toes to gently kiss his cheek.

"Isn't that all the time?" Matt commented with a small chuckle before leaning down and kissing your forehead. "I love you too." he added as you leaned up to kiss his lips before you laid your head on his chest, swaying a bit on your feet to the sounds of the record playing.

Matt definitely wasn't a perfect man. He knew he was flawed, it was all he thought about when he hurt you like this. But for some reason you still loved him, you never saw his flaws in the way he did. You were the only one who loved him so gently that he almost considered that maybe... just maybe... he deserved it. Maybe God had given him this little slice of heaven in his arms and he needed to remember this chance... this chance at pure heavenly bliss that being with you granted him. Either way, he vowed to never let you spend another day, Valentine's day or not, without feeling every once of love and gratefulness he had for you.

[theotherchaospixel]

I couldn't blame them too much. The fact that they lasted as long as they did implied they knew what they were doing. It's a shame I haven't been in the magic market that long. I mean, I've been doing this since I was a wee magi, etching runes in my pocketbook, but, compared to the recently executed wizard, I was a baby.

No comments anywhere. Horrible component names. Some of the most bizarre, arcane rune hierarchy I've ever seen. And the lambda sigils. Ye gods, the lambda sigils. What a mess that was. I know most layman's expertise in magic is only about as far as that book where that gaggle of mages wearing sunglasses & robes travel between the world inside & outside a spellbook and that one guy basically ascends to godhood, so I'll break it down for you. Most sigils you define elsewhere on your script so that when you need to use them, you can just write the symbol, and preferably you do that at the chapter level, rather than the page level, right? Because the chapter level sigils can be used anywhere in the sect of the book, right? Well lambda sigils don't do that; they're very much a 'etch as you need them' sort of thing, and are supposed to be shorthand & TEMPORARY. But Mister Senior Wizard Man just used them all willy-nilly, just everywhere. It's a nightmare.

So, of course, I have to go back through the whole spellbase & redefine all the sigils & triple-check to make sure nothing breaks. You have to be SO CAREFUL when you do this, because otherwise, you end up referencing a sigil that you haven't written out yet & blow something up, or you use a sigil in the definition for that sigil & blow something up, or you give a reading component a material it doesn't expect & you end up summoning a beast from beyond the limits of the human realm, or you make your component too big & blow something up. And, I mean, you could spend time writing out sigils to specifically watch for things that might make something blow up, but it's common knowledge between us wizards that it's generally better to make sure that nothing gets to that point. Things blowing up is bad, and spending precious mana & source energy just to specially check for things that only might blow up is just such a waste.

Ye gods, what else did he do? Oh! He used a couple sigils & incantations I actually had to specifically look up! I mean, there's uncommon sigils, that are for specific purposes, and then there's writing an incantation without writing anywhere what it does, what it's for! No comments is pretty bad, but you can't just write in eldritch script without adding comments, saying what it is! The sigils & components don't care, it's all magic to it, but wizards use human eyes and stuff, and don't speak eldritch as a first language!

Next chance I get, I'm multiclassing as artificer. This wizard stuff just gets on my nerves. Especially dealing with what other wizards have written. Ugh.

Since the old court wizard was executed, you were hired to take over. However, working with horrible component names, no comments, and a general mess without asking the original writer of this spellbase is harsh.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Hello can I have an ask about reader who came from our world who is a big fan of predators who can read, write and speak their language and fight like them too gets teleported to yautja prime and I guess she was looking around for shelter and she found a clan so she entered their clan grounds hoping she doesn't get killed and she found a pyramid (from what I remember seeing in one of the movies) which turns out to be where the clan has its important meetings. And the elder clan leader let's call him Kar'dokh (if you don't mind) was having meeting with other nearby clans so reader accidently enters the meeting room filled with other clan leaders and their most trusted soldiers standing by their side and the silence was LOUD

Reader: .... 

Kar'dokh and the other clan leaders: .... 

*Kar'dokh gets up about to kill her*

*Reader speaks in yautja*: wait I mean no harm I swear!! 

And like all of the yautjas were flabbergasted to find this out and they were suspicious of her cause how does a human know so much about their people? (cause in the world no human ever went to yautja prime) so word got out and everyone wanted to see the human including people from other clans, so fast forward reader and kar'dokh got close -e ends up liking her try's courting her but she pretends to be oblivious to it

Kar'dokh: ooman

Reader: yes? 

Kar'dokh: why do you refuse to be my mate? Am I not a worthy enough male for you? I have you know I have strong seed to sire strong pups so why do you refuse me? 

Reader: what...? What do you...huh? Kar'dokh you are an alien I wouldn't even be able to give you children! 

Kar'dokh: my people's technology can fix that issue so be my mate

Reader: I... I can't 

Kar'dokh: and why not? 

Reader: because I'm human!!! 

Kar'dokh: not valuable reason. Try again

Reader: why do you even like me!?!? Kar'dokh: because I am attracted to you

Reader: *tip toe’s and manages to grab him by the shoulders* raise your standard!!!!

Kar'dokh: *slams hand into metal and puts a deep dent into it then proceed to grab her by the risk*

AND BOOM he pounces on her, corners her against the wall gets her to confess her feelings and they do the super Spicy boombayah doggie style😉

And she somehow got pregnant a few days later 

SORRY FOR IT BEING LONG!!!!! 

To Another Realm

Pairings: Kar'dokh (male yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 5271

Summary: After being transported to another realm where yautjas are real, you learn to survive. With the help of Kar'dokh. A clan leader of a strong tribe. If it wasn't for him, you would've been long dead your first day. Close proximity and his help made the two of you grow close. To the point there was no space between you two.

Author Note: IM SO SORRY ITS TAKEN ME FOREVER TO GET TO THIS. I've been so busy. Work just changed my 6-2 to a 10-6 and I'm now moving an hour away. So I'll be taking a small break as well for that for writing probably. Maybe... I don't know.

Also! I do have a patreon now: link There are three tiers. Those get the post earlier. Everything will still come out. I'm tweaking things as I go.

Masterlist

Ao3

Wind rushes passed you. The ground comes and meets your face with a dull thud. Blackness is all you see.

A throat-tearing gasp wracks your body. You sit up rapidly and start to violently cough, trying to figure out how to steady your breathing. It takes a moment to steady yourself enough to wipe away the tears from your face and gaze around. What you saw wasn’t what you were expecting.

Jungle. Tall, lumbering trees towered high above you. Heat and humidity smacked you in the face. The air was hard to breath. It felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen, like you had been shoved onto of a mountain without any time to acclimate. You struggled to your feet and glanced around. The area felt weird. It was as if your internal compass was thrown off completely.

Where were you?

Only thing you could feel besides the confusion was dread. A heavy thing to sit in the pit of your belly, weighing you down. You placed over your heart and took in deep, calming breathes. A difficult thing to do when it feels like you’re slowly suffocating. You pushed through the dread and began to move in a random direction. There had to be some sort of clue to as where you are… and how you got here. The last thing you say doesn’t correspond to waking up in a forest!

Due to the lack of air, you could only walk at a moderate pace. That already had you panting slightly. The terrain was rough and unsteady. Thick foliage, fall giant trees, wide creeks, and boulders made the trip all the more difficult. You had to push forward though and find some sort of clue. Sweat and humidity sticks to your skin like a sheet. Your clothes sticking to you uncomfortably. No matter how much you pulled the drenched clothing away from your skin.

Hours, or what felt like hours of traveling, later, you spotted something through the foliage. It rivaled the trees height. A structure! You immediately started to quickened your pace and race through the foliage, not caring if the branches tore at your clothing and skin. You panted heavily by the time you pushed past the lush bush. You stood there and dragged your gaze up, up, up until you find the top. It was a pyramid. A pyramid in the middle of the jungle. Was this somewhere that had Aztec or Mayan buildings? That’s all you could come up with.

It was in pristine state, as if you had been transported back in time. Like this was the day it was built. You can’t recall anything from anywhere that had something like this. With your heavy breathing, you had to stand there for at least ten minutes, under a tree, catching your breath. The sun was harsh. It felt like you were in a desert, in middle of the day. It nearly burned your skin by standing out in it for a short period of time. You glanced at the building after catching your breath once more. You wanted to go inside. Who knows what’s beyond its walls? Could be an earth shattering record?

With a deep breath you pushed onward and stepped into the blazing sun. Even the intensity felt off, the rays as well. Yet, you didn’t have an idea on what is happening. Besides this being a terrible dream. Stuck in a hot, humid jungle with no phone, no map, no clue where you were. A hopeless situation to be put into with your lonesome.

Large stairs that reached your knees slowed your ascend. Halfway up, you had to stop and take a moment. “This. Is. Bullshit,” you muttered to yourself then continued up the stairs. The material was textured and a deep ruby red with blocks of black. It was beautiful despite you sweating all over it. Does a dream really make you sweat this much?

By the time you had reached the top steps, you feel faint, ready to fall back down the stairs you just climbed. You stumbled your way into the entrance, thankful for the cover. The sun had done a number on your skin. The heat that radiated off of you could make water boil off of you. Your back touches a wall before you slide down to sit. Your legs were more than thankful for the rest. There had to be at least on-hundred steps. Minimum. It was worse since they were made for bigger people.

All because you wanted to see the inside. This better be worth it.

Once you felt stable, thirty minutes later, you weakly stood up. Your legs wobbled when you took a step. You continue on and follow your way inside. Only to realize it had a stairwell. You growled and glared at the damn thing. Then, you take the slow and approach of climbing down each step. It wasn’t much to complain about. Only about two flights until you reached the first floor. Now, it was time to explore.

There was something in the air that had you on alert. Either from the creepiness or from the fact you felt like you were crossing into forbidden territory. You tread quietly, peered around corners before doing down that hallway. The place felt like a maze, meant to drag you deeper and deeper into the depths. Until you from yourself all the way at the bottom level.

That; s when you realize that the only reason you’re able to see is from fire lamps. Lamps that have to be lit by someone. You stopped in your tracks and looked at the walls. In your blind stupor, you didn’t think to look at the walls. Walls that are decorated with stone carvings. Carving that made you think of the movie ‘AVP’. This is really a dream.

You walked up to the carving and gently ran a hand over the smooth stone. Beautiful work. Someone had poured their heart into the crafting a story into the stone. Your gaze drifts over the art work and followed the story down the hallway. All the way to a grand door at the end of the hallway. It was too carved with a mixture of stone, word, and some sort of ore. You stopped in front the door with your jaw dropped.

Curiosity got the best of you. Both of your hands were place on one of the doors.; With all of your weight and strength, you pushed open the door. Your head was ducked down as you struggled the entire time. Just enough until you could slip between the new crack. You stepped into the room and instantly freeze on the spot. That dreadful feeling only intensified… tenfold. You picked up your head and had to cut off a gasp.

Tens of eyes stared at you bright, fierce gazes that looked ready to tear into you. Your muscles locked in place as you stared out at the group. You recognized them. Yautjas. These were Yautjas. Twenty or so. All of them staring at you. Your heart pounding in your chest, trying to escape from the situation you’ve put yourself into.

At the end of the long, formal table, one grand looking Yautja stood up abruptly. Others following suit. The first on marched around everyone and advanced swiftly towards you. You stumble backwards and smacked into the closed door behind you.

Two long blades slid out and glinted off the low light from the fire lamps. Your eyes about bulged out of your head as you looked at the approaching Yautja. Seeing them in movies was far different than seeing on in person. Not that you ever thought you would see one like this. Your hands lifted up in a complacent manner, as if you were trying to call down an angered animal.

“Wait!” you screamed, using a language you never though to use. The Yautja stopped in his tracks his muscles tense. Everyone else pausing as well. “Don’t… don’t kill me.” The unused language was choppy on your tongue. You never thought you would ever use it. Not that you had anyone to use it with.

Surprise over took his anger in the moment. His eyes roamed from head to toe. “You spoke.” It was a statement rather than a question. The words takes a long few seconds to register in your brain. A bit of excitement flares to life inside of you at the knowledge you understand him.

Timidly, you nodded your head. “Yes. Did. Not well.” You did your best to communicate with him, hoping to keep yourself alive. The other Yautjas with him, hoping to keep yourself alive. The other Yautjas behind him glanced at each other, confusion evident in their eyes. Some looked angry. One stepped out from the group and tried to bypass the main Yautja standing less than ten feet from you. He sticks his arm out and stops the other one.

“No, Taural,” he growled but didn’t let his bright vibrant eyes off of you. You felt like a deer in headlights, just waiting for them to do something. For them to decide your fate. There was no running, no fleeing. You couldn’t outrun them, there was no chance of escape. You had to think smart.

The one he stopped snapped his head towards the larger male. “It’s a ooman, Kar'dokh! On Yautja Prime. It needs to be killed,” Taural spat at the brown Yautja. Your heart leapt into your throat. Kill you?! But-but, you’re not a threat, you have no weapons. They have no reason to kill you!

“No.” Such a firm statement that left nothing to be argued. “Return to your seats. Now.” A command that left everyone only to followed. They followed his order with little resistance. Some glanced back at you with murderous intent. Part of you was thankful for the mercy while the other was afraid what he might have in store for you.

Kar'dokh approached you once more with a stern look in his eyes. Instantly, like a cornered animal, your first thought was to throw a punch. But, you didn’t want to give a reason to kill you. Don’t be a threat. He stopped directly in front of you. A towering form that made you feel like you were going to shit yourself. Your heart raced and felt like it was going to leap directly into his hands.

He leaned down and got directly into your face. You tried to turn your head away but he grips your chin and forces your head back. “No threat. Can’t… kill me,” you continued in choppy Yautja. The fear that gripped your heart squeezed hard. All you could do was stand there, under his scrutiny. Your eyes pleading for your life to be spared. Because if your memory served you right, from all the knowledge about these guys, they shouldn’t be allowed to harm or kill you in any way. You aren’t a threat and hold no weapons.

“How do you know?” he growled out lowly and tightened his grip on your chin. You since. “How did you get here?” You could see the questions swirling in his eyes the longer you he stared at you. He was trying to figure out where and how you got here.

Longer you stood there pinned to the wall, you grew more lightheaded. Either from the anxiety that ran through you or the lack of oxygen was starting to get to you. Maybe it was the fear of death right in front of you. Or maybe it was a combination of all of that. Your breathes started to come out fast the longer you were pinned. Darkness began to crowd your vision.

“I-I’m gonna pa-pas out,” you alerted to him before everything went dark. You collapsed on the ground. Kar'dokh letting you dropped. The last thing you remember is being picked up.

By the next time you woke up, you felt a bit refresh. Your eyes blinked open to stare up at a patterned, carved ceiling. Carving like the ones you’ve seen on the pyramid walls. Your brows furrowed at the sight. What? You sat up and rubbed at your eyes. The scene didn’t change. You had just woke up. What in the world were you still in this dream? Fear started to fill your stomach. No… surely, this was a dream. Was this a dream?

Then, a door opening caught your attention. Your head snapped over towards the sound. Kar'dokh was walking into the room, head held high. He stopped besides the cot you had been placed on during your forced nap. Stunned, you peered up at him, heart thundering again. “What happened?” you asked, speaking in your normal language now. Then, you felt the blanket that had been laid on you, slip down. That’s when you realize the room you were in was a medical room. And it didn’t feel like you were suffocating anymore.

His nearness was frightening. To see him crowd into your space without any remorse for scaring you terribly. A grumbled came from the towering, brown giant. “Our planet’s atmosphere isn’t designed for oomans.” His voice! He spoke in Yautja but a monotone voice sounded in your ear. A translator.

It’s thought that they breathe nitrogen more than oxygen. They can survive in our atmosphere than us in theirs. “A regulator has been added to our respiratory system.” Kar'dokh leaned into closer into your space. Your natural reaction was to move away but he snatched your throat and tugged you back. “Now, that I know you won’t die before I get my answers: start talking.”

Worst of all, you don’t know the true answer to his questions. He didn’t look like he would accept ‘I don’t know’ as an answer either. You forced down the lump in your throat. “Uh, what was the questions again?” you asked in a small voice. As much as you wanted to shy away and hide, the grip he had on your chin was firm. There was no escape.

He scowled at you and tightened his hold on you for a moment. “How did you get here? Who brought you onto our planet?” The deepness and anger in his voice was laid thick over you. It rattled you deep to the bones. Fear gripped your heart. The more you looked at Kar'dokh, the more you noticed how decorated he was. Kar'dokh was covered with plenty of bones and scars. From your knowledge, he must be a well decorated hunter or possibly an elder… or a clan leader. That had your heart dropping to the floor, at his feet. You whimpered quietly and closed your eyes, trying not to faint again.

“Answer me!”

Your whole body jerked from him but he brought you back to his space. “I don’t know! I don’t know! I promise. I woke up in the middle of the jungle. I-I walked around and found this place. I don’t know how I got here. Honestly!” you had to plead to him. Hopefully, he’d see the honesty in your eyes, hear it in your voice. You cracked open an eye to read his face.

The gears in his brain were spinning. Kar'dokh growled then let go of your chin. With a yelp, you fell back and nearly fell off the cot if it wasn’t for him grabbing the collar of your shirt. He hauled you back up into a sitting position. Far too close. You could see the speckles in his eyes. Beautiful but deadly. This creature could easily hurt and kill you with a fraction of his strength. The only reason you are alive currently was you weren’t a threat nor an honorable kill. Those… others wanted to kill you with little remorse or pause. Was that honor rule not true? If that was the case, you were a walking corpse. Soon to be a skull on the wall. Nothing more than a trophy.

Kar'dokh eases off of your shirt until he knew you won’t fall backwards again. “Thanks,” you murmured and drifted your face down towards the cot again. Your hands were folded in your lap, nervously playing with each other. “I’m being honest. I promise. I don’t know how I got here. I don’t even know where I am. This isn’t earth, is it?” You gazed back up at him, eyes large and wide.

The two of you entered a short staring contest until he sighed and took a step back. “I believe you, ooman. I don’t smell another on you.” The brown Yautja leaned forward and sniffed you for a moment. “You do smell… strange.” Was that a good or bad thing? He stood back up and stared down at you from over his mandibles. “Do answer me this: how do you know that we can’t harm you?” Your breath got caught in your throat. Was it wise to release such information to him? Would he think you as insane?

But, the only way was to get through all of this is to be honest. From there, it would be up to Kar'dokh if you are to live. Putting your life in someone’s hands.

“Okay… you might not believe me though.” From there, you went into explaining what your world is like. Going deeply into about how Yautjas are a fake species, made up. All of them a fantasy that someone made up… until now. Kar'dokh took all of it. His stern face a wall of impassible features. Not even his eyes gave away a single emotion. By the end, you finally stopped and watched him closely.

During your whole talk, he had grabbed a chair. Kar'dokh stood up and uncrossed his arms. “All you’ve said is… unrealistic, though you arriving on Yautja Prime is also next to unrealistic. Oomans aren’t allowed on Yautja Prime but… you are  a special case now. If what you say is true then you must be kept alive.” That made a cold drop drip down your spine. What could that mean?

From that day, you were under lock and key by Kar'dokh or in a medical-like room. They would run tests on you yet they couldn’t come up with anything logical for your situation. In the meantime, you got to learn more than ever about them. Probably the first and only humans to step foot on Yautja Prime. Alive. It took time to get Kar'dokh to open up but your excitement about learning their culture and language inevitably softened him up enough. That’s when you learned more about him. Plenty for a well decorated warrior and clan leader to talk about.

Two years after you first dropped down onto their planet, the scientists were still scratching their heads. They haven’t figured out how you’ve made it here. They were able to find out you weren’t from their universe. Something about your cells were different. That’s as far as they’ve gotten about your situation.

On a different hand, you’ve gotten further with Kar'dokh to the point he allows you free roam of his home and the clan he leads. There was a strict no harming or killing on you. He had his name and symbol burned into your skin to ensure everyone knew you were off limits. Everyone kept a wide berth when it came to you. Rarely did anyone talk or looked at you. Something you used to your advantage. For the most part. Until you wanted to learn about their culture more.

Back in the comfort of Kar'dokh’s home, you were studying the language. A soft, thin, knitted blanket laid over your legs while you were curled on the couch in the living room. The language… was different. But Kar'dokh was more than helpful when it came to speaking and writing. Listening, that’s a whole different story. That’s all on you. Your brain is completely scrambled trying to understand the different clicks and trills they make.

With a groan, you flopped back against the back of the couch and tilted your head back, eyes closed. A familiar presences hovered over you, blocking out the light. You cracked open an eye then softly smiled at him with no teeth showing. “Hello, Kar'dokh. Come here to gloat about my struggles?” you teased him.

The brown Yautja placed his hands on the top of the couch and leaned over you. His long, dark tresses curtained around his head. “What are you struggling with?” he asked you, features soft and calm. You continued to gaze up at him. “I told you I’m here to help you.” He has changed since the first day you met him. You’ve cracked past his hard exterior to see how soft and kind he could be. You sat up and brought up the sheet of paper you were on. Kar'dokh grabbed it and looked at it closely.

Kar'dokh snorted then used a sharp nail to flick off the translator right behind your ear. Then, he began to speak in Yautja. “What it is saying is…” he spoke the word but it didn’t register in your brain. The confusion etched in your features stated you didn’t understand it. At all. Kar'dokh repeat it a few times. “Now, you try it.” The course of two years has greatly improved your Yautja speech and understanding. There are moment when you struggle… but Kar'dokh is there to catch you before you fall.

At first, the word choppily fell from your lips. Kar'dokh was patient in helping you get the word. The different facial structures definitely made it all the harder. Yet, Kar'dokh was patient with you the entire time. Even if it took all day for you to finally get it.

Once you finally got it, Kar'dokh purred and grinned at you. He combed his fingers carefully through your hair. “You did so well. I’m proud of you,” he praised to you.

In the pit of your stomach, butterflies erupted to life. Your eyes softly shut as you enjoyed the comfort his presence and touch offered. “Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you,” you muttered softly in Yautja. The words were starting to fall from your lips with ease. His nails raked across your scalp. You sunk further into the couch with a deep groan.

A chuckle comes from the brown Yautja. You feel his presence grow closer, his heat washing over you like a blanket of comfort. One of your eyes barely cracks open to see his bright yellow one staring directly at you. You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face.

Without thinking, you leaned up and pecked him on one of his mandibles.

The whole world froze. Your heart dropped to your stomach. Internally, you were cursing at yourself. You flinched and tried to slip off the couch to put some distance between the two of you. When a hand snatched the back of you neck, lifted you over the couch, and dropped you right in front of Kar'dokh. Your shoulders scrunched up, eyes not daring to look him in the eye.

Rough finger pads gripped your chin and forced you to look directly at him. A lump began to grow in your throat the longer you stared at him.

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I just-I don’t know. It just happened. I do have feelings. I don’t know if you did. And I probably just ruined what friendship we had. Now you’ll probably hate me. Please, don’t. I don’t know what I wo-“ a tongue was shoved into your mouth and promptly shut you up. Your eyes fluttered shut.

An arm snaked around your waist and tugged you close to a feverish body. Your own arms wrapped around a sturdy neck. Kar'dokh guided you towards the nearest wall and trapped you between him and it. You are forced to pull back and pant for breath. The back of your head resting against the wall.

“That’s one way to make me shut up,” you teased him and leaned up on your tippy toes to place a kiss to his lower mandible. “I’m not complaining though.” Kar'dokh growled lowly in the back of his throat and dove back into another kiss. You immediately responded in haste, hands roaming over his shoulders and felt up his powerful body.

As your hands dipped lower, Kar'dokh pressed himself harder against you. One of his legs pressed between your legs and forced them open. You gasped into the kiss but he doesn’t let you pull away this time. A rough textured hand palms at your hip for a moment before dipping under the hem of your shirt. The difference in temperature has your hair standing on edge. He continues to grope at your newly exposed skin.

For a moment, he moves back a fraction to give you a moment to take a breath. His large, brown forehead was pressed to your own. Piercing yellow eyes stare directly into yours. The hand under your shirts drifts up and skims under the swell of your unbound breasts. You gasped and arched your back, pressing yourself more into his touch. His eyes flared with fire, mandibles twitching wider.

There’s a long second passed before he rips your shirt off of your body and frees your torso. Kar'dokh’s gaze was immediately admiring the new skin he exposes. Both of his hands palm at the supple, soft skin of your breasts. Large thumbs toys over your nipples and draws them into peaks. You whined and curled your hands into fists. One snagging a dark tress of his. He purred deeply and pressed his mouth to yours again in a fierce fight for the top. Kar'dokh easily overtakes you.

You tugged on his tress. His dark nails dig into your ribcage then he pinched and twisted one of your nipples. A gasp tore at your throat and forced you to pull away from him. Your hips rutted down on the thigh between them.

“Kar, no more teasing. Please, I can’t take it anymore,” you begged him, breathless. His irises darkened.

With the open invitation, Kar'dokh simply rips off your pants and under in one move. A yelp escapes from your throat but he ignores it. The brown Yautja bumps his knee further up and grinds against your exposed slit. Heat flushed to your cheeks at the feeling of a dripping mess making its way to his thigh.

Drool drips down his jaw. Kar'dokh grips your hips and easily lifts you off of the ground, keeping you pinned to the wall. Instinctively, your legs attempted to wrap around his waist but he was larger than you. He uses his hips to hold you up as he undoes his loincloth and tosses it to the side. Your gaze is drawn downwards.

Hot and heavy. Kar'dokh’s alien cock is nestled between your thighs, resting on your stomach. The tip reaches your belly button easily. Oh shit. You felt yourself clench around nothing at the sight.

One last look in your eyes, he draws his hips back. The tapered, neon green tip was pressed to your entrance. Then, with a swift thrust, he lodges himself as deep as possible, only able to get about halfway in. Your back arches off of the wall as a wail falls from your lips. The sheer size of him makes it hard for your walls to even clench around him.

Kar'dokh uses a hand to ensnare your throat and forced you to look at him. “I know you can take more.” Another draw and thrust of his hips makes the rest of him fit snuggly inside of you. The feeling of him overwhelmed you. It felt like he was touching every nerve inside of you. Maybe he was.

A deep groan falls from his alien mouth. His eyes fluttering, on the verge of shutting at the exquisite feeling of you wrapped snuggly around him. “That’s it. I knew you could take it, little one. Mm, you’re so tight,” he muttered under his breath. Kar'dokh refocused on the task on hand.

The pace at first was sloppy, unsteady until he found the perfect beat. Loud slaps echoing throughout the living room. Your hand was still wrapped around his tress firmly, using it as a lifeline. Your jaw dropped as each thrust forced the air out of your lungs.

“Yes, yes. Perfect. Been wanting to do this-ugh, for so long. Make you my mate. Gonne breed you. Have my pups,” he rambled amidst the brutal fucking he provided. His claw dug into your hips and held you in place.

You couldn’t the snort that left you as you tried to stay sane. “T-that’s n-ah, no possible, Kar.” From what you know of, it shouldn’t be. No matter how potent their seed is. Or the fact the tip of his shaft was slamming against you cervix with each rut into you.

Black nails dug deeper into your flesh, threatening to break the barrier. “Doesn’t matter. Our technology will fix that,” he growled back and doubled his efforts. Your reply was cut off with a high pitched whine. The brutalness was wrecking to your smaller frame. There wasn’t a chance you would be able to walk tomorrow.

He leaned further into your space and buried his face into the crook of your neck. His long, pink tongue slithered over your salty flesh, tasting you. Blood pool around the nails that finally pierced the flesh of your hips.

“You’re mine. My mate!” Your pants grew whiny. You had no choice but to hold on as the first wave of your orgasm started to wash over you. Your eyes crossed as the pleasure became overwhelming.

Fangs bite down into the crook of your neck, scaring as his mate. With a deep, resonating snarl, Kar'dokh hips go flush with yours. You mewled at the feeling of his throbbing cock taking up every available space inside of you then some more. Spurts of cum began to fill your insides.

None of it was able to spill out and be of waste. Something was lodged just shy of your entrance, plugging you up. You squirmed in his hold and tried to figure it out what it was. Then, the light bulb went off.

A knot. Kar'dokh had knotted you. The thought sent a shiver down your spine. He really was doing everything he can to make you pregnant. He unlatched his teeth from your shoulder and licked at the dribbling blood.

At first, you smiled. That turned into a smirk and soon enough, you were laughing softly, soaking in the dopamine in your system. Kar'dokh’s licking stopped. The brown Yautja pulls away to look you in the eye, confused on your laughter.

“I don’t know how this will work. You won’t be able to get me pregnant,” you explained to him again, trying to get the point across. “Why do you even like me? I’m a human.”

One hand detaches the claws in your hip to grip at your chin. “It’s because I am attracted to you. Ooman or not, you are attractable both physically and mentally.” Oh… that’s really sweet of him. Your cheeks flushed with heat again. You couldn’t even duck your head off to the side.

“Then, you need to raise your standards, Kar. Or you just need to get out more often.” Kar'dokh responded with a snort and returned to nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He doesn’t entertain your words. Instead, he holds you in his arms, waiting for his knot to deflate.

So he could do it all over again.

Sure enough, a human can get pregnant by a Yautja.

[dfstolenart]

Breach part. 1 | Criminal Minds

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Summary: Where Reader gets kidnapped with Aaron Hotchner and forced to do things that puts them in an uncomfortable position, and Dr. Spencer Reid is determined to help reader get back to a new normal.

A/N: this is my first time writing for CM I’m in the early seasons so I’m not too familiar with these characters yet but thought of this plot. I also am not familiar with tumbler so Please leave any suggestions! I am trying my best thank you!! Semi-proofed read!

Tags: un-established relationship, early season Reid, newly divorced Hotchner, Mentions of SA, mentions of drug abuse, kidnapping, and death <- [warnings]

It was a normal day for everyone at the BAU chaotic but nothing out of the ordinary for the members

“Hey, I was thinking” Spencer said as he suddenly appeared by your side as you were walking towards the break room to get to the coffee machine. He looked nervous but that was a constant for him.

“How about we-”

“Meeting room, now.” JJ says cutting off the man next to you

Spencer sighed but nodded and you gave him an apologetic look as you made your way with him right behind you.

“Okay todays case takes place in Phoenix, Arizona there have been multiple murders the past month and bodies turning up in canals” JJ says as she showed pictures of the victims

Men and women, tied up together with marks covering their bodies and bruises on their faces. It was a brutal attack.

“Are they tied up together?” Morgan asked, JJ nodded “He takes them in couples, tortures them, makes them commit acts on one another, then discards them in the water canals at night when no one is watching.” she says “This is James O’Connell and Lorie Matthew’s unsubs most recent victims, they were out on their third date together and never returned to their homes”

She flashed more photos of them, there were stabbings in their genital areas meaning the unsub was most likely a sexual sadistic murderer which only meant from here on out if continued the murders were only going to get worse.

The team talked amongst each other throwing out ideas of how the unsub portrays themselves

“This can’t be one person right?” You ask “It’s two people, wouldn’t that be a lot to handle for one person?”

The others nodded seeing what you were getting at but still unsure “He has a weapon, with a gun you can get anyone to do anything especially if there’s an unfair advantage” Hotch says

“Right” you muttered but still not fully convinced

“Wheels up in 30, we’ll discuss more on the jet ” Hotch tells the team and exits the room you sighed gathering your belongings “Agent aren’t you from Arizona?” Prentiss asked

You looked up at her “yeah, Phoenix”

“I didn’t know you were from Phoenix” Reid joins the conversation “uh yeah it’s not really much to talk about, but hey maybe I can actually be out on the field this time. Tired of being in the station.” You confess to them

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to let Hotch know, he’ll definitely let you. You will be a big help.” Prentiss says as she walks out you nodded and stood up from your seat

You were still considered a newbie despite being on the team for a year and a half, you weren’t really out with Hotch and Prentiss when you got a case mostly sticking with Reid and that’s how you guys got so close

“Here’s a map of where the bodies were left” Reid says and hands an already marked up map “familiar?”

You looked “yeah. This canal is in a neighborhood.” You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him “This neighborhood it’s not the wealthiest, a lot well at least back then most of the people minded their own business which makes sense why no one seen the unsub.” You tell him

“How do you know that?” He asked “I used to live in this neighborhood.” You pointed on the map right next to where the canal is “My friends and I when we were younger used to walk around there. That canal was a shortcut to get to and home from school.”

“So you’re really familiar with this area.” He said you nodded. Spencer can feel your nerves and laid a comforting hand on your shoulder giving it a squeeze before guiding you out the room

||

“You guys are welcome to set up here, and take up more space if needed. This case needs to be solved. Nothing like this has ever happened.” Officer Flake tells your team you can tell this has been stressing her with the way her body looked so tired and her eyes looked un-rested. You were happy to be able to help.

“Thank you, we will get right on it.” Hotch told her and from then on out the team hung up pictures and maps with sticky notes that had every detail needed to try and understand this unsub.

“Morgan, Rossi you go talk to the first victims families gather as much information you can. Prentiss and I will talk to the second victims families and do the same.”

Hotch looked at you and you thought it was going to be something different but he frowned “You and Reid stay here. Continue profiling him.”

You agreed not wanting to protest, Prentiss sighed and gave you an apologetic look but you brushed it off and turned to Spencer “Let’s do this.”

In about and hour or two you and Spencer determined the unsub was definitely a male, the unanswered question was if it was two, and if it were two unsubs they had to be very similar to each other.

“So unsub possibly unsubs definitely male, not good at romantic or sexual relationships that’s why he takes interest in these couples, has to work in a setting where he is able to see these couples which can be a restaurant.” You say to Reid going over your guys notes he nodded listening to every detail that spilled our of your mouth trying to see if anything could’ve been missed before the unsub was officially profiled

“Guys, another body has been found in the same canal as the recent one. This time it is only the male.” JJ says as she hardly rushed into our area “what? Is he purposefully making it easy?” You ask

“Maybe this wasn’t the plan for him, maybe it was a mistake.” Reid suggests “a mistake?” You questioned

“Yeah unsub has to live close to that canal, it’s been used more than once maybe he got rid of the body twice in that canal because it’s closest. The murdered victim had to be a lot to handle for this unsub to just leave him, probably didn’t have enough time to find another canal.” Spencer tells you and it made sense

“Okay, let’s go.” You grabbed the keys throwing them at Spencer who smoothly caught them and made your way to the black SUV

When you got to the scene Hotch, Prentiss, Morgan, and Rossi were already there “Have anything?” Hotch asked Spencer nodded and went through the profile

“He has to live around this neighborhood.” You say almost confidently, Hotch licked his lips “suit up.” He said looking at you sternly causing you to quickly make your way to the SUV to get a vest “need help?” Spencer asked noticing the way your nervous hands fumbled the vest

“Uh yeah sorry, I’m a bit nervous” you embarrassingly confess “yeah, I was too.” He half smiled and tightened the vest remembering his first time out on the field

“Be safe.” He told you with a serious tone you looked deep in his eyes “of course.”

You walked back to Hotch “We can’t waste anymore time, Prentiss, Morgan take the left neighborhood look for any clues, anything out of the ordinary, Rossi and Reid take the right neighborhood look for the same, We will take this center neighborhood. You know it best right?” Hotch asked you “yes”

“He has to be in this neighborhood, it’s closest to the canal and easier access.” You tell Hotch he nodded and with that everyone broke off into their groups

Why would he only leave the man? Why all of the sudden change in the murders? So many questions ran through your mind as you searched the neighborhood

After a while you came across an abandoned house well at least it looked abandoned. This house screams trauma, it always had. Memories resurface in your head walking through this very neighborhood and seeing this house.

“It has to be this one.” You tell Hotch “I agree.” He said and with that you guys pointed your guns Hotch clearing the area around before knocking on the door of course there was no answer and he busted it down clearing the entry way “take left wing, I’ll take right.”

“Alright” you said and separated from your partner doing as he said then all of the sudden everything went black.. and that was all you can recall about entering that house…

||

You opened your eyes, head spinning, vision blurred and body sore “huh” you breathed as you felt something wet dripping down your face you go to touch and see red immediately panicking you get up and look around you were in a room, a dark room your feet chained to a pillar. How did this happen?

You didn’t want to be loud, and let the unsubs know you were awake but something told you they already knew since you could hear voices behind a door your heart raced uncertain of what you were about to face

“Hello princess” a guy creepily smiled as he opened the door with a bowl of something in his hands you quickly sat back down not wanting to intimidate the unsub

“Brought you a present.” He placed the bowl in front of you

Water.

“Where is Hotch?” You asked sternly not wanting to let him know how truly scared you were

“Aaron Hotchner.” The guy repeated you nodded

“Well sweetie, you’ll see him soon enough.” He evilly laughed your mouth fell open slightly but you closed it real quick “he’s ready sir.” Another voice said “bring him in”

You got up on your feet and there was Hotch being pushed in with a bag over his head and his hands chained together in the back of him, you felt bad seeing your boss in this state, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

The unsub pulled the bag off of Hotch and dragged him closer. Your guys eyes met, he looked worried not really scared but his eyes softened once they landed on you “get down” the unsub screamed at Hotch and he did as told “we don’t want any problems.” Hotch said trying to reconcile with this crazy man

“Right.” He laughed in our face as he rolled his eyes “I know what you guys are, and I know you guys are onto me.” He tells us “I can’t let you guys ruin me”

“Well to be quite frank sir you already ruined it for yourself by kidnapping two agents, you need to end this now! We have a team out looking for us and trust me when I say they’re really good at their job.”

He didn’t sound scared at all, and if he was he was doing a damn good job at not showing it “yeah well we’ll see how long it takes them.”

You sighed as you threw your head back onto the brick wall “Jordan come in here!” The guy yelled and another one entered.

I knew it was two.

Jordan came in gun drawn on us “what demands do you have for these two agents?” The older one asked Jordan creepily smiled and laughed

Yeah these two definitely have a hard time with romantic relationships.

“Remove her top.” Jordan demanded your heart dropped, there definitely could’ve been worse situations than this one but he was your boss, and so much more older than you, you had to see this guy everyday for the rest of your work life.

You look at Hotch and he bit his lips he looked angry but you knew he was just trying to come up with something to distract them “I’m not doing that.” He flat out said

“Why not?!” Jordan asked losing his temper and pointing the gun at your head “This bitch will die!” He said throwing a fit like a toddler

“Because his hands are chained to the back of him” You said Hotch looked at you “He needs them in the front of him.”

Jordan smiled and nodded “you want him to touch you.” You wore a disgusted face seeing how excited it made this guy

“She’s right. I can’t undress her if my hands are not near her.” Hotch agreed, you were glad he understood that you had a plan I mean why wouldn’t he? He’s smart.

“Try anything, and I’ll be so quick to shoot the both of you pigs!” The other guy who still hasn’t given his name shouts and Jordan nodded “You’ll make it worse if you try to pull a fast one.”

“We wont” Hotch said assuring them as he showed his chains to them waiting for them to be removed, your arms weren’t chained but your feet were so you had to think fast and carefully of a solution but everything happened in an instant it was hard to recall what went wrong

“You asshole!” Jordan screamed as he fell back causing the other unsub to quickly jump onto Hotch trying to gain control again

You pulled the unsub off of him slamming him onto the floor but then the back of a gun collided with your face instantly making you back off

“Shit.” You grumbled holding your face and then hear a gunshot go off making you look at Hotch he winced as he held the side of him “fuck.” You muttered quickly moving towards him

“It’s fine, it just grazed me.” He assures. You looked at him with panic “I told you sons of bitches what would happen!” Jordan yelled hitting his hand on the wall upset with what just went down

“It’s fine, calm down.” The older guy said “his hands are to the front now.”

You looked at Hotch and felt disappointed not with him but just with the events taking place today you look at the two guys in front of you and they knew how badly you didn’t want to be in this situation

“We got to make this quick.” Jordan says and he grabs you buy your hair making you go closer to Hotch “undress her!” He yelled

“What do you get out of this!?” You shouted “You’re a loser! So scared of woman you can’t touch them yourself?”

He got angry, and wrapped his hands around your neck “I’m not scared of anyone.” He said “get off of her.” Hotch shouted as he kicked Jordan in the leg to push him away

“You bitch touch me one more time, and I swear this bullet will be in the center of your forehead!” Jordan screamed as he had his gun pointed to Hotch

You and Hotch tried your best to stall as much but it was getting clear and clear as the seconds passed that time was running out and maybe your team was going to be late in rescuing the two of you

“Now go on.” Jordan said Hotch sighed and you just nodded towards him “It’s fine.” You assure him even though you were struggling more than you were showing “I’m sorry.” He whispered but you looked away not wanting to make eye contact with anyone

“Slow,” Jordan whispered and nodded. Knowing Hotch didn’t want to give him the satisfaction he unbuttoned your blouse fast “God dammit!” Jordan yelled as he threw a punch at Hotch you winced not liking the noise of it all

“Hotch don’t!” You tell him “Don’t make it worse, just listen to them. Please.” You beg not wanting him to get more hurt than he already was, you couldn’t lose him here. That was the last thing you wanted was to be alone with these two.

He took a deep breath as much as he didn’t want to give in to them he could tell how scared you were so he agreed “Now her pants.”

Hotch grimaced “stand up sweetheart” the older unsub demanded of you tears started welling in your eyes, you looked at Hotch and he was turned facing the wall as his hands found the button on your pants

“Look at her! Don’t you want to see what she has to offer, don’t act like you never wondered about her. Seeing her everyday would make any man go crazy.” Jordan smirked, you don’t like being perceived as what Jordan was saying and you knew a thought like that never crossed Hotch’s mind but it still made you uncomfortable

Once your pants were off you stood there in your bra and underwear you felt so little standing in a room with these two men “come forward” the older one said to you and you did as asked, he grabbed a sharp knife and ripped your pants so they were not around the chains he then pushed you back and tears fell down your face and landed on Hotch

He looked up at you seeing you stare into the wall, he stood up and wiped them away “Now sweetie, don’t you want to return the favor?” Jordan asked

“No how about we start getting to the fun part already.” The older guy said with a menacing smile “kiss her”

“What are we in 5th grade?” Hotch asked “You guys are sick, and I promise when I get my hands on the two of you, you’ll wish you just died.” He said his eyes not leaving them

They both just laughed until the older one stopped and slashed his knife into the side of you, you groaned falling down holding the cut it wasn’t deep but it stung bad “fuck”

“You’re gonna keep talking?” Jordan asked Hotch, Hotch helped you up and put his hand on your wound putting pressure on it “It’s okay.” You say reassuring not only him but yourself as well

“Do it now or she gets stabbed this time in her throat!” You closed your eyes shut trying to go to a different place trying to pretend like none of this was happening but it was hard with Hotch’s rough hand on your chin and you being able to feel his breath near your neck

You knew he felt just as embarrassed about this and you weren’t sure how he was keeping his composure so well, after these events you weren’t sure if you were even cut out to be in this field, you felt so fragile so weak and helpless.

Once you felt his lips on your neck you squeezed your eyes shut “there you go” Jordan said “come on sweetie, you scared to touch him? You ever touch a man before?”

“Shut the hell up” you said as your hands found your way onto Hotch’s arms you were humiliated and had given up hope until finally by some miracle the door had been thrown down “in here!” Someone shouts and you turn to see police officers with their guns drawn on the two suspects

You never felt so relieved before “Hold up, hold up.” Hotch said with his hands up and stepping in front of you “unlock me, and give me a cover!” He demanded quickly an officer came with bolt cutters releasing him and another left for a cover

Hotch took off his blazer and covered you in it and next you were cut free you took a deep breath of relief so happy to be out of this nightmare “A blankets on the way.” Hotch told you “thanks.” You said as you looked to the floor you can feel Hotch’s eyes burning into you but you couldn’t look at him

Once Hotch was handed the blanket he covered you and finally stepped away where the two of you were guided out the house, you were in a different location not the house you both had busted in earlier

You looked around and seen your team they all looked worried and relieved and unknowing of what you and Hotch just went through, your eyes found Spencers and quickly looked away from him.

||

You were mandated to go to the hospital to get checked and that is where they gave you stitches for your stab wound, you wanted to go alone but JJ and Prentiss were not going to let that happen

You could tell they wanted to know what went on while you two were kidnapped but decided against it seeing the state you were left in, they knew you were undressed but that was all that they were told

“Hey, want to get some food? We can just eat in the hotel and watch a movie?” JJ suggested to you “I’m sorry guys, I just really need to be alone after this.” you tell them they both nodded

You looked at your feet and wiggled them and seeing the bruising from the chains, it felt nice being free.

“Okay Agent, here are your release papers.. You should be good to go.” Dr. Santana says as she hands yur papers over and smiles “okay.” is all you said as you exited the room

You had gotten sweats and a shirt from somewhere not sure who's it was but it was given to you “Agent, you know at any time you can talk to us right?” Prentiss asked making sure you knew you weren't going through anything alone

“Umm yeah, I'm fine. Just check in with Hotch for me please? He needs it just as much as I do.” you told the both of them “Yeah of course.” JJ responded

You smiled at both of the girls and turned around quickly the same smile disappearing you walked to the black SUV and prentiss drove you guys back to the hotel you were staying at for the night

You didn't want to hear any updates from the case, it was done, it was over and they were long gone.

“Your hotel card.” JJ said as she handed you the room key you smiled and took it “Spencer grabbed your bag and put it in there. Need anything before we leave you?” you shook your head and made your way to the stairs, elevators were a no for you.

Once you made it to your established room you tried to get the card to work the door but it wasn't going “what the hell.” you sighed you continued to try

“Everything alright?” a deep voice asked you turn quickly and saw Hotch you tried to speak but no words wanted to come out so you just nodded. He eyed you knowing you were lying so he gently took your card and pressed it against the scanner

Green. Door was opened.

“Thank you.” you say as you looked down waiting for him to leave “Are you good?” he asked “yup”

“Agent.” he sternly said causing you to finally meet his eyes and there you broke down falling to the floor not able to keep it in not that you were able to from the beginning but these were hard sobs that had been needing to come out since you were released from that house

Hotch quickly grabbed you pulling you into him “I'm sorry.” you apologized and he held your head “Dont be, we had no control over what happened today.” he comforted you and you looked at him shocked to see tears welling in his eyes

“I don't think I can continue.” you say to him “Today made me realize I'm not as strong as I thought I was, I'm not made for any of this.”

He wiped your tears for the second time today and shook his head “Agent you're stressed, trust me as the days go by its going to be in the back of your mind.”

You shook your head “Its not, I'm not going to forget.” “Everything alright out here?” you hear another voice and look to see spencer he was confused and worried when he seen the way you looked so broken

Quickly you tried to compose yourself wipe your tears and step away from Hotch “Its fine.” you tell him “Are you sure?” spencer asked again “I need sleep.” you tell the both of them and scurry into your room slamming the door and locking it

The two men looked at each other worried “She needs time.” Hotch tells the man in front of him “What happened?” Spencer asked but Hotch just shook his head “She’ll tell when she's ready.”

“I want to help her, I need to know.” Spencer demanded but he got nothing in return he sighed and watched Hotch walk away

He knocked on her door but no answer “Look you don’t have to tell me what happened today, but I need to know you’re good. I can’t leave you like this.”

The door slowly opened and Spencer walked inside “Just sleep in here..please.” You said Spencer nodded and made his way to the extra bed. . .

[yantao-enthusiast]

tumblr reading comprehension challenge impossible…. i literally said don’t give me discourse on this post. i don’t care about your opinion, scream it to the mountains. i’m just asking for you to stop putting it on my obvious silly post about my opinion (or anywhere in my notifs)

“age doesn’t matter in the wilderness” is crazy... ESPECIALLY in the context of him and misty like do you think all of a sudden his knowledge was nerfed out on the wilderness??? this isn’t even about the wilderness at this point, this is about ben’s inability to communicate with misty (even outside the wilderness) and letting it get worse to that boiling point. and… like even still a lot of the yellowjackets looked to ben for guidance even if he didn’t know anything like he did have power there. i’m not saying he’s a. “pdfile” but in the grand scheme of things i’m just saying i question his ability to be able to truly communicate and understand teenagers when he can’t communicate with one that’s done nothing wrong to him but annoys him anyways pre crash. and his great big solution to her behavior was… asking her to be in a secret relationship? like if that’s his solution…… well. forgive me if i at least think he shouldn’t be teaching and if i lowkey want a fictional character to die in a show where fictional characters die

i say “wasn’t the best” because in the context of misty’s pov, she thought she was doing what the both of them wanted even if it’s not what ben wanted (which if she thought it’s what ben wanted, she doesn’t see it as rape or breaking the law, especially with him engaging a relationship with her despite drugging him in her mind that must be fine, right? (even if it’s not)). but ben never gave any real indication against it, had in fact told her to ignore all signs of it because of their secret relationship. and this is all at 16, and the other party is…. i don’t have to say it

reading over this again i’m beginning to think this fandom isn’t for you…. like femcels…. okay….. and like i think there’s plenty of reasons to hate a lot of the men and especially in a women’s show, especially when you see most of the negative sides and less backstory and good moments from them. but i think travis is a great character, doesn’t mean anyone has to like him. same for any character of this show regardless of gender. it is just a show and it’s up to us what makes a character enjoyable or not. you can’t change everyone’s mind on this with your anger, even if you don’t like that. you ignore a lot of my explanation of misty’s actions in favor of your interpretation of her as ‘ben’s villain’, and you’re not obligated to but if you wanna debate about misty, you should probably try seeing her as a complex character….

i’m not replying to this anymore to keep my peace and because of my clear boundary to stop rbing MY post with discourse i don’t wanna see. MAKE YOUR OWN POST IF YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT IT. THAT’S LITERALLY ALL I’M ASKING.

but like i hope things get better for you whatever’s happening in your life. like get to the root of your problem on a session with your therapist or something. good luck

“omg poor coach ben someone save him from misty” i hope he meets his demise at her hands actually

[captivating-flavors]

date | zayne

pairing: zayne x non mc actress!reader

prompt: -

summary: you did your own stunt but it went wrong.

words: 1,680ish

warning(s): mentions of loss

a/n: inspired by this hc by @sylusonychinus and valentines day also i think i have to preface this by saying that english is not my first language and my laptop broke down so this is poorly edited and.... yeahh enjoy <3 reblogs, comments and feedbacks are much appreciated since its been a while since i wrote anything

It was supposed to be a simple stunt; that’s why the Director even allowed you to do it in the first place. You were supposed to jump of the railing, with a harness attached of course, but accidents happen and you ended up having to land earlier than the timing agreed beforehand. You didn’t have enough experiences with stunts, therefore you panicked and landed on the wrong position.

“I’m fine, Tara.” You said as you were holding an icebag against your right foot.

“What do you mean you’re fine? Your ankle is purple and swollen!”

“The standby medic said it was fine. You didn’t need to call for a freaking doctor.” You knew Tara, you best friend and assistant, meant well but calling for a doctor over a sprained ankle is just way too dramatic.

“No, but what if it doesn’t heal right? Or what if–”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I’m pretty sure Dr. Greyson, who’s a heart doctor mind you, has other and more important things to do than tend to a sprained ankle, don’t you think?”

Tara had been dating Greyson for the past few months and it’s not the first time Tara has called him over for you. She did that once when you got a fever after shooting a scene in the rain and another time when you caught a stomach bug.

“He’s a cardiac surgeon–”

“Exactly, my point why would he–”

“Also, that’s not who I called.”

“Wait, what? Then, who’d you–”

At that exact moment, the door to your trailer swung open and Dr. Zayne, the Dr. Zayne, walked in carrying a small white bag.

“Wait, Dr. Zayne? What– Why are you here?”

“I heard from Tara that you got into an accident. What happened?” Zayne looked frantic, a detachment to what you’re used to seeing from him, calm and composed.

You were about open your mouth, to tell him that it was not a big deal and to just go back to the hospital, when Tara interjected, “She fell, sprained her ankle and now it’s swollen. You should–”

“Miss Tara, could you please come to the Director’s tent? Thank you.” The walkie-talkie snapped onto Tara’s waistband interrupted her.

“I have to go. Thanks for coming Dr. Zayne.” Tara said before she left the trailer, leaving the two of you alone.

Zayne walked over to your chair and knelt in front of you, taking your right foot in his hands, examining the swollen area of your ankle. You winced as he tilts your foot from one side to another.

“It’s fine. It’s not a big deal. The medic said it’ll heal in a few weeks. You must be pretty busy so you should head back, Dr. Zayne.”

“I told you to call me Zayne.” He said as he grabbed a compression wrap from his bag and started wrapping it around your ankle.

He did tell you that the last time you guys met, when you came over to the hospital to give him coffee and visit the kids two months ago.

The two of you have somewhat of an odd relationship. You first met him at a fundraising event held by a charity specializing in helping children in need to get treatments and surgeries for Protocore Syndrome two years ago. Where the two of you had a meaningful conversation about wanting to help those with the disease, whilst also keeping the memory of the ones you’ve lost. Your sister and his childhood best friend.

And then there’s Tara and Greyson. Tara would visit him during the monthly filming breaks and more often than not you’d come with her. At first, you only tagged along to do somewhat-of-a-research for an upcoming project that you’ll be filming in eight months, in which you were cast as the lead in a medical romcom. At some point, the hospital visits got boring because you would only sit on the lounge as to not intrude on Tara and Greyson’s time together, and observe the doctors as they rush through the halls to tend to their patients.

On your visits, you rarely ever encountered Zayne. Greyson had mention that whenever he’s not in surgery, he prefers to spend his free time in his office. Until one day, you were sitting on one of the seats in the lounge, doing your usual people watching routine when you saw him.

“Dr. Zayne, what a lovely surprise.”

“Likewise, Miss Y/N.” He responded, as polite and curt as ever, continuing to stride towards the nurse station a few feet away from your seat. You felt that it was nice to see a somewhat familiar face because the observation had just gotten boring, since it does not seem like a busy day at the hospital.

“I told you, just Y/N is fine. I never see you around during my previous visits.”

“So, what brings you here,” he pauses, before continuing, “Y/N?”

“Tara wanted to see Greyson and I agreed to come along since I needed a breather from the scripts, rehearsing and all that. Oh, and I’ve also been taking notes of how doctors act and work, you know, for a project.”

“I see.”

He turns his attention to the nurse behind the station desk, “Hello, Yvonne.”

“Good morning, Dr. Zayne. I assume you’re here for the treats?”

“Yes.”

The nurse grabbed a small jar of what seemed to be candy and hands it over to him, “Here you go.”

“Thank you."

“So, what are you up to, Dr. Zayne?”

“I’m visiting my younger patients over at the kids’ ward.”

“Oh, that's so sweet of you, Dr. Zayne.”

He hesitated for a moment before saying, “Would you like to join me?”

“Alright, why not?”

You tagged along and got on to the elevator behind him, him pressing the sixth-floor button.

“So, you’re just going to hand them candies?”

“Yes. To cheer them up as they recover, I suppose.”

The two of you arrived at the sixth-floor and got off the elevator to a hallway of rooms, all of them filled with kids and their families as they recover. You follow behind Zayne as he approaches the first of the beds, where a young girl, probably seven or eight, sits up.

“Hello, Eleanor.”

“Hi, Doctor Zayne.” The child says cheerfully.

“How are you feeling today? Does anything hurt?” He asks as he places the end of his stethoscope over the girl’s heart and she shakes her head in response.

“Have you been taking your medicine regularly?”

“Yes, but they taste awful.” The child grimaces.

“Here’s your reward for listening to your doctor well and it might help with the bitterness.” He hands the kid two pieces of wrapped candy.

“Thank you, Doctor Zayne! But, Doctor, why is the Princess of Solon behind you?” Eleanor questioned, referring to your character from your latest movie.

“Well, she’s here to cheer you up.” He says as he nudges you forward.

“Hello, Eleanor.” You said, putting on your princess voice.

And that was the start to your somewhat tradition with Zayne. The two of you would come to the kids’ ward, he’d check on their progress, give them their rewards and you’d talk and take pictures with them. It was refreshing to see that there was actually a warmer side to Zayne, as opposed to the polite and curt side he always seemed to project.

“That was fun. We should do that again.”

“I agree. The kids were infinitely happier in the presence of the Princess of Solon.”

And that became a regular thing. Every time you had your monthly breaks, the two of you would spend the day at the hospital chatting and playing with the kids. It just became a regular way for you to spend the day or two off each month you got it. You also managed to feel somewhat closer to Zayne through the days spent together, as you genuinely enjoyed spending the day with him. Seeing him interact with the kids and care so much about more than just their physical well-being made you admire him even more.

But despite being able to act warmly towards the children, whenever it was just the two of you it felt like he’d go back and forth from his warm side to his regular curt self. He’d open up a little bit, do little things that makes your heart race like remember your exact coffee order and have it ready by the time you came by, but then he’d shut down again, going back to his distant self. But you still looked forward to seeing him and spending the day with him each break.

A gentle pressure against your foot brought you back to the present.

“Well, you did. But you’re always so…”

His voice from your last meeting two months ago rang in your head.

“You know, you can just call me Zayne.”

“I hope to hear it the next time we meet.”

He looked up at you, “So what?”

“Formal? I don’t think that’s the right word. I don’t know. You always seem so close but distant at the same time that it kind of sounds weird to just say your name like... Zayne.”

He stopped, never taking his eyes off yours, “Say that again.”

“Zayne.”

He shifted his gaze back down and continued to wrap the bandage over your ankle, putting slight pressure against the adhesive, making you wince. And you swore that his ears were red.

“There. You should be fine in about two weeks as long as you don’t move too much.”

“Thank you. But really, you didn’t have to come all this way for a sprained ankle. It didn’t even hurt, much.”

“I didn’t come for a sprained ankle. I came for you.”

That was not the response you expected from him, “…What?”

“I was worried when I heard from Tara that you’d gotten into an accident. I wanted to come and see for myself that you were alright. And you haven’t been to the hospital in a while. The kids missed you.”

“Yeah, about that. I haven’t gotten a day off in the past two months since they’re reshooting some of the scenes and–”

“Also, I missed you. And I’d rather not wait for another accident to see you.”

“I– What?” To say you were baffled by the confession would be an understatement.

“Let’s have dinner instead. When you’re all better, of course.”

“Are you asking me out, Zayne?”

“Yes.” You chuckled, amused at despite how confident and blunt he sounded, yet you could see the entire time that his ears were red.

“...Alright, then. Let’s set a date once I’m doing better,” you paused to smile at him, “Zayne.”

[trickphotography2]

good to come home to (but not to stay)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x unnamed female!reader

Word count: 11.4k (sorry, it's a really long one)

Synopsis: "It doesn't mean anything." It was just a fling. A friends with benefits situation. Sleeping with Jake was never meant to be more than that. But when you start to catch feelings and have a new assignment, the 10 month hook up had to end. Deploying on the USS Theodore Roosevelt would give you enough time to get him out of your system. Or so you thought.

Written for @mjisbby who requested a cryptic pregnancy fic.

Warning: This fic does include angst, mutual pining/believed unrequited love, a cryptic pregnancy, and the panic of finding that out.

18+, minors DNI

Crossposted on Ao3 | My Masterlist

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

“Nat!”

The weight lifted from your shoulders as your knee hit the ground, the clink of metal on metal nearly drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. “Alright, you’re done,” Natasha hissed, crouching to meet your gaze. Breathing through the cramps, you nodded. When she’d suggested working out, you certainly hadn’t anticipated your uterus's betrayal, nearly making you collapse during a squat.

“Agreed,” you grunted, resisting the urge to press a hand to your lower stomach. Feeling eyes on you, you took her outstretched hand and let the pilot pull you to your feet. Pain made you sway, and her other arm quickly steadied you. 

“Shit - you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” Forcing a smile, you shrugged as the pain started to fade. “My uterus is just hating me today.” The other woman winced in sympathy. Glancing over her shoulder, you caught Jake watching you, paused in the middle of a set of bicep curls. He raised his eyebrow, and you quickly looked away. 

It'd been awkward since ending your friends-with-benefits agreement. And, while you sometimes regretted that night when you told him it was over - replaying that flash of confusion on his face that quickly disappeared under a mask of indifference - you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. When you started your arrangement, you agreed it was casual and had no expectations. The moment you realized you were falling for the arrogant aviator, you’d ended it in a much-needed moment of self-preservation. It was better to cut things off before you got hurt, trying to pretend that you didn’t wish that Jake was open to a relationship. 

You could have had a clean break if it hadn’t been for the deployment. San Diego was a big enough city, and you weren’t even stationed on the same base - while he was on North Island, you were stationed at NAS San Diego. You’d only crossed paths because Nat had decided to join the women’s softball team and invited you to the Hard Deck after practice. While you had some exposure to pilots after participating in briefings, being surrounded by them in a bar was overwhelming - at one point, you leaned over and whispered to Nat, “So when are they going to just whip their dicks out and measure? Jesus Christ, the egos.” 

And Jake was the worst. You’d watched him prowl the bar, flirting with women who giggled and batted their eyes whenever he smirked at them. Wearing a pair of your PT shorts as a raspberry bloomed on your thigh from sliding into home plate, you weren’t a match for the women in sundresses and perfect makeup. After finishing your beer, you bid your teammate and her crew goodbye and headed home for a hot shower. 

It wasn’t until the third time you joined Nat at the bar that you talked to the guy everyone called Hangman. Still wearing your khakis, you’d come straight from work, ready to forget the week. While you enjoyed working with newly enlisted sailors, training them to do daily briefings for higher-ups was always a nightmare. You’d spent most of the day reviewing a report and triple-checking the work of a kid straight out of basic. Realistically, he should have had more time to observe briefings, but your boss liked to throw the new guys into the mix to get their feet wet. Remembering the anxiety you’d had the first time you’d briefed an admiral after commissioning, you always offered your help to anyone who wanted an extra set of eyes and ears.

So when a song by a country artist you liked came on the jukebox, you hummed along, beer bottle resting against your lower lip as you watched Nat’s pool game with her friends and tried to push thoughts of telemetry out of your head. “You like country?” A drawl came from beside you. Startled, your gaze met a pair of sea-green eyes. 

“It’s not my favorite, but I like some of it,” you shrugged. Jake nodded, gaze flitting to your name tag. 

“You’re Phoenix’s friend, right?” After a few weeks, you recognized your friend’s callsign and nodded. “You the college softball player she’s on the MWR league with?”

“Yeah.”

“You play for a team I’d know?”

“Do you watch a lot of college softball?” you smirked. Amusement flickered in his gaze, and you shrugged. “It wasn’t a D-1 school, so probably not.”

“What position do you play?”

“Second base and backup pitcher.” 

He nodded, leaning against the wall beside you. “You’re in intel, right?”

“Yup.” 

His gaze darted to your beer, and he tilted his head toward the bar. “Want another one?”

At practice the next day, Nat warned you about Jake’s reputation. You shrugged it off. Having a beer with a guy in a crowded bar didn’t mean anything, even if some of that time was spent at the jukebox picking out the soundtrack for the night. 

When the season's first game came around, you were somewhat surprised by the cheering section in the stands. You spotted Nat chatting with her coworkers through the fence as you warmed up with a teammate. Only reflex kept you from taking the neon softball to the face when Jake turned. Even wearing sunglasses, you could feel his gaze trained on you. 

The game went smoothly, and you and Nat worked like a well-oiled machine. In the fourth inning, she fielded a ball with a wicked bounce hit straight at her at shortstop, flicking it to you to get the out on second before you turned and fired it at first. The double play ended the inning, and you slapped gloves together before returning to the dugout, listening to the hoots and hollers of your team’s cheering section.

“The pitch just looks weird,” Rooster huffed. “The wind-up is off.”

“It’s just different,” you argued. “You guys pitch overhand while we do it underhand.” 

“And you’re closer to the plate, so it’s easier to hit,” Fanboy added. Raising an eyebrow, you turned toward the man, folding your arms over your chest and cocking your hip.

“Ever seen the video of Jennie Finch striking out MLB players?” When they shook their heads, you pulled out your phone and made them watch a Cardinals player get struck out in four pitches. 

Which was why you found yourself on the mound the following weekend. You were rusty, but after a few pitches, you felt yourself slipping back into the competitor mindset, switching your grip to throw fastballs, curveballs, and drops. It was satisfying when Rooster ducked out of the way when you threw an inside rise, the ball smacking into Nat’s glove with a satisfying ‘thud.’ Smirking, you caught the toss back and returned to the mound, trying not to laugh as the other aviators shit-talked. 

Eventually, they got a couple of foul balls and grounders. It took you much less time to adjust to the baseball pitch when it was Rooster’s turn to take the mound. “You forget,” you said, settling into your stance after hitting another line drive to third base, “most batting cages are set up for baseball.”  

You could never quite figure out how you and Jake ended up alone on the field. Everyone else had left to shower and head to the bar, but you couldn’t forget the way he pinned you to the dugout fence. Your fingers ran down his chest, shirt long since abandoned, and traced his abs as he smirked against your mouth, gloves dropped at your feet. When your arms rose to wrap around his neck, knocking off his backward baseball cap, he lifted you off your feet and guided your legs around his hips, grinding his hard cock against you.

“Is that your cup, or are you happy to see me?” you teased, and he barked a laugh while squeezing your ass, rocking you against him. 

“Smart ass,” he huffed. But when his hand slipped under your shirt, fingers sneaking under the cup of your sports bra, you shoved him away, feet slamming back onto the ground. Looking over his shoulder, you watched the military police vehicle drive past the field. 

Alone again, you retrieved both gloves and his hat. After shoving his glove into his chest, you smirked and put his hat on your head before winking. “See you around, Jake.”

His fingers caught yours as you brushed past him. “You coming to the Hard Deck tonight?” 

“That’s the plan.” 

He grinned, stealing back his hat. “See you there.”

Lukewarm water washed over you as you braced against the shower wall and bit your lip against groaning.

The days before your period arrived fucking sucked.

Thankfully, you didn’t have them often. Irregular since you started, you never were able to track when Aunt Flo would arrive. Even birth control did little to help you regulate, other than having a little spotting throughout the month. But in the days leading up to her appearance, you suffered.

Turning off the water, you took the momentary reprieve from the cramps that had plagued you for a day and a half to slip on a comfy pair of sweats and a baggy shirt before crawling into your rack. Facing the steel grey wall, you curled into a ball and cradled your stomach, willing away the pain and wishing the outlet worked so you could plug in your heating pad. You already felt gross from being bloated and putting on a little bit of weight over the deployment. Stress wreaked havoc with your body, and you had acne breakouts again and noticed that your uniform was just a smidge tighter than usual. 

The next cramp knocked the breath from your lungs, pain radiating down your legs and into your back as you clutched the blanket. Tensing, you curled into a tighter ball, black dots dancing in the corners of your vision as you held your breath to avoid the pain. 

The mattress shifted, and you cracked one eye open. Jake stood by your bed, tugging on his boxer briefs and searching for his jeans. Light peeked beneath the blackout curtains as you watched him dress before tiptoeing from the room. When the door closed, you opened your eyes and rolled onto your back, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. 

Nat had warned you.

You’d played it cool at the Hard Deck, keeping a friendly distance between yourself and Jake for most of the night. While he shot pool, you chatted with the other pilots and nursed your drink. But you’d felt sea-green eyes on you throughout the night and fingers trailing your waist when you stood by the bar together. After saying goodnight to everyone, you’d sat behind the steering wheel, scrolling for music, and nearly jumped out of your skin when there was a tapping on the car window. Jake’s grin was cocky as he motioned for you to roll it down. “You wanna get a nightcap?” he asked, leaning a forearm against the door and crowding into your space. 

He’d followed you to your apartment and shared a beer while making out on the couch. Your shirt hit the floor as he rocked you against his hard cock. But when you’d reached for his straining zipper, he’d batted your hands away and maneuvered you to sit on the couch. Kneeling in front of you, he undid your jeans button and encouraged you to lift your hips so he could pull them off with your panties. “Fuck, baby,” he breathed, guiding your bare legs over his shoulder as you shrugged off your bra. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.” Tugging you closer, he devoured you. Your head fell back against the cushions as you moaned, feeling his chuckle against your core. He gave no quarter, chasing your pleasure with a ruthless determination. When fingers joined his tongue, you dug your fingers in his hair and tugged, his groan an echo of your own. And after you came, he kissed you hard, forcing you to taste yourself. 

“Bedroom. Now,” he murmured against your mouth. You twined your fingers together, walking backward toward your room, where he continued to demonstrate precisely why his reputation was well-earned.

You’d hidden your face in the pillow as he took care of the condom afterward. And while you’d expected him to dress and leave while you took your turn cleaning up, Jake had surprised you by sliding back under the covers. He gathered you in his arms when you joined him, fingers running through your hair and skating down your back as you were lulled to sleep by the steady thumping of his heart. 

Which was why his sneaking out in the morning hurt. But you’d known his reputation, and there hadn’t been any promises made past last night. After a few minutes, you forced yourself out of bed and locked the front door behind him before retreating to the bathroom and washing all traces of Hangman off you. Laundry was the first order of business when you emerged, skin raw from scrubbing.

It had been relatively easy to avoid him after that. You had no reason to be on North Island; your only connection was Nat. When he showed up in the bleachers at games, you ignored him. When he lingered like he wanted to talk to you, you volunteered to help pack the equipment and walked to your car with your teammates. Drinks at the Hard Deck were turned down, and you invited Nat to hang out with some of the officers you worked with. 

But you couldn't say no when she asked you to meet her at the bar for her birthday. Pulling into the Hard Deck felt like returning to the scene of the crime, and you took a few deep breaths before getting out of the car, adjusting your jeans and tank top. Promising to get in and out after an hour, you forced yourself into the sea of flight suits and khakis. Per usual, the Daggers had taken up their post by the pool tables, and you grabbed a beer before heading their way. 

The clacking of pool balls met your ears as you neared, and you felt him before seeing him. Ignoring the weight of his gaze, you brushed past Payback to hug Nat and wish her a happy birthday. Thankfully, a handful of women from the team also came, making it easier to avoid a certain aviator. Seeming to catch your intention, he also kept his distance.

Seeing Hangman flirt with a woman by the dartboard just solidified your decision to forget that night happened. You were just another hookup - no need to read more into it than necessary. When you caught him watching you dance, you forced yourself not to look away, an unwelcome flush rising in your cheeks. You could have sworn you saw the slightest flinch when the woman he was talking to touched his arm, drawing his attention away. 

You told yourself the jolt of irritation you felt had nothing to do with seeing another woman’s hands on him. The smooth way he smiled at her, or the bob of his Adam’s apple when he drank. The way he leaned against the jukebox while picking out a song, beer bottle dangling from his strong fingers that had made you see stars. 

A country song played as you closed your tab after saying your goodnights. Cocking your hip, you ignored the stranger beside you while signing your receipt, listening to the lyrics - “And that night we left our hearts on our sleeves and the clothes all over the floor. We both know we can't open that door no more. But she kept the hotel key.” 

No one followed you into the parking lot this time.

That didn’t stop you from opening your door an hour later. You didn’t tell Jake to leave when he asked if he could come in. 

“This doesn’t…mean anything,” you panted, bowing off the mattress as his hips slammed into yours. Fingers twisted in the sheets, you promised yourself that it was the last time as he lurched forward to capture your mouth. 

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you repeated after walking him to the door on shaking legs and flicking the lock into place early in the morning.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you told yourself, washing away Jake’s taste with a swig of his mouthwash. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you thought on a different night while dressing in the dark as he sprawled across the bed, arm outstretched toward where you'd been

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you hissed through clenched teeth while leaning over your bathroom sink to study your split lip. Pain throbbed in your outer thigh, and your knee socks were stained with blood. The slide into second had been textbook until the baseman obstructed the bag. Her shoulder hit your mouth, knocking you back so hard the helmet flew off your head when you hit the ground. The knee to the chest as the other player tried not to fall onto you wasn’t particularly fun, either. The immediate ‘oooh!’ from the spectators hadn’t helped as you rolled to your side, trying to catch your breath. 

It took a minute to get up, and you felt embarrassed at the scattered applause as Nat and Mel helped you off the field. And there, waiting at the dugout as you limped in, was Jake. Brows pinched and fist clenched at his sides, he studied you as you swiped the blood from your mouth. “What do you need?” 

“Water, some ice, and bandages,” Mel answered for you. She was a nurse at the base hospital when not playing on the team. Jake’s eyes shot to you before he nodded curtly and hurried to his truck. You winced as Mel checked you out for a concussion and used the old first aid kit to do her best to clean you up. Within 15 minutes, Jake returned with a bag and a cup full of ice from the NEX. You could feel Nat watching as he stood behind you, separated by the fence, Mel cleaning the abrasion on your thigh while you held the makeshift ice pack - the ice dumped into a t-shirt you recognized as his - to your mouth. 

Reluctantly, you’d sat out the rest of the game and declined Nat’s offer to drive you home. After promising Mel and the rest of the team that you’d go to the hospital if you felt worse, Nat walked you to your car with your bag slung over her shoulder. “Is something going on with you and Hangman?” she asked. Your face gave you away because she shook her head. “It’s not a good idea.”

“It doesn’t mean anything.” The mantra slipped out without thought. 

It played through your head when you noticed a familiar truck a few cars behind you as you drove home. When Jake took your bag from the trunk and followed you up to your apartment. Again when he appeared behind you in the bathroom, something akin to worry in his eyes as he slowly turned you around, thumb lightly stroking your swollen mouth before placing a featherlight kiss on the hurt. 

“It doesn't mean anything,” you repeated when he stayed the rest of the day, sharing a shower and ordering dinner. When you watched TV and he made sure you iced your mouth. As you climbed into bed and he curled around you, his big hand spanning your stomach and lips brushing your shoulder. 

You didn’t have sex at all that day. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you murmured while falling asleep. 

And you dreamed of a whisper as you drifted off. “Lie to yourself more convincingly, sweetheart.”  

Sweat beaded your forehead as you clutched the desk, tears clouding your vision. Pain radiated from your stomach and back. Using the desk to lower yourself to the floor, you leaned against the cabinet and curled around the heating pad. Wrapping your arms around your knees, you attempted to force the heat deeper against your revolting uterus, swallowing against the acid rising in your throat. 

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there, trying to breathe through the pain. It came in waves, worsening no matter what you did. With every break, you promised to get up and go to medical for some relief. You had duty in a few hours and needed to move. With only a few days left until the end of the deployment, your team was working on getting things wrapped up and ready to transition back to working on dry land. 

When the next cramp hit, you let out a low moan and clenched around the pain. Without realizing it, you held your breath, pain making your ears ring. A hand clamped on your shoulder, and you started, pulling in a deep breath and looking up at Nat’s worried gaze. You saw her lips move but were distracted by a warmth between your thighs. Unfurling slightly, you looked down and saw your sweatpants were dark and wet, the material clinging to your skin. 

“I think I pissed myself,” you said in a daze before tilting your head back against the cabinet, clinging to consciousness as the pain ramped up again. 

The phone lit up again, but you ignored it. Jake had already texted, asking what you were doing after work and hinting that he wanted to come over. But your period had finally shown up, and you felt like shit. With meds onboard and a heating pad on your stomach, you had no plans other than maybe Doordashing a crappy dinner and ice cream. Seeing your fuck buddy was out of the question. 

With a reality show on TV, you dozed on the couch under a blanket. The plot line wasn’t catching your attention, and you mentally ran through your morning briefing. A knock on the door startled you. Reluctantly, you untangled yourself from the cocoon and went to answer it. “What are you doing here?” you demanded, opening the door to find Jake. A confusing swirl of emotions crossed his face before a smirk teased his lips. 

“You didn’t answer my texts.” Annoyance surged through you. 

“So you figured you’d come over? Jesus, Jake, are you that hard up for sex that you can’t go a few - ”

“What?”

“It’s not happening. Not tonight,” you snapped, attempting to shut the door. His hand shot out to catch it. You quickly stepped back when he forced his way in.

“I’m not here to fuck,” he snapped, green eyes blazing. “You didn’t answer, and I got worried. Sorry for giving a shit and checking on you.” 

Crossing your arms under your aching breasts, you blinked away unbidden tears and bit your lip to keep it from wobbling as Jake scowled at you. Slowly, you blew a shuddering breath and dropped your gaze, wincing slightly as your back ached. “Sorry. I just… I don’t feel good.”

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” You watched him step closer and saw his hand lift as though to touch you before falling back to his side. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Which is it - you don’t feel good, or it’s nothing?”

“I’m on my period,” you snapped, glaring up at him. “That’s why I don’t feel good and why we can’t have sex, okay? Happy?” While you’d expected him to recoil with disgust like every other guy you’d been with, he just shrugged. 

“Okay, do you need anything?”

“Why, are you gonna go get me tampons?” you mocked.

“If you need some, yeah.” It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “I have a sister. It wouldn’t be the first time I bought ‘em.” You ignored your fluttering heart and shook your head.

“Just go, Jake. I’m fine.” Turning away from him, you retreated to the couch. But instead of leaving, he walked to your bedroom. Squawking in irritation, you followed, hearing the shower turn on, “What the hell are you - ” When you stormed in, Jake was testing the water temperature. “What are you doing?”

All traces of irritation were gone from his expression as he closed the shower curtain and moved closer. His damp hand went to your hair, gently tugging so you tilted your head back. The kiss was soft and almost hesitant. He said your name tenderly, thumb gently stroking the curve of your ear, “You bled through your pants.”

“What?” you groaned, face flushing and tears of embarrassment wetting your eyes. But he held you still when you tried to step away.  

“It’s okay. Jump in the shower and get cleaned up. Do you need anything?” You shook your head. “Have you eaten dinner?”

“I’ll order something.” 

“What d’ya want?” 

“A burger. And fries. And a chocolate milkshake.” He chuckled and kissed your forehead. 

“Alright. Anything else?” You shook your head. “Text me if you think of anything.”

“I’ll give you my card.” Rather than fight, he followed you out of the bathroom and took the credit card you handed him and a spare key so he could lock up behind him.

Once you’d increased the temperature, the shower felt magical. You stood under the spray for a long time, letting the hot water ease your sore body. By the time Jake was back, you had enough time to dry off, get dressed, and toss your clothes in the wash. He’d left your card on the kitchen counter. 

The moan you let out at the first bite of the burger made him choke on his shake. “Thought only I made you make that noise,” he said after coughing to clear his throat.

“This is the only meat going anywhere near my mouth tonight, Hangman.” Shaking his head, he wisely stayed silent as you devoured dinner. But when you expected him to leave after, he cleaned up and gently rolled you onto your side on the couch, slipping behind you and tugging the blanket over both of you. His hand slid around your front, covering yours, which held the heating pad. 

“Are they freaking out about a guy eating his wife’s pussy?” he asked as the reality show continued. You sighed sleepily. 

“Remind me to tell you about when I dated a Morman guy in high school and why his family still hates me.” 

After the episode ended, Jake forced you to get up and followed you into the bedroom, stripping off his jeans and t-shirt. You fell asleep, wrapped in his comforting scent, his warm hand pressed to your belly.

The next morning, you woke to Jake’s alarm going off and felt his lips brush your cheek before he carefully slid out of bed. Again, you stayed silent as he dressed, quickly closing your eyes when he got close. His fingers brushed the hair from your face, and you tilted into his lingering touch. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he whispered.  

When your alarm went off an hour later, you forced yourself out of bed and got ready for work. And when you went to grab your coffee creamer, there was a bag of chocolates you hadn’t purchased in the fridge.

The front door was locked, and your spare key was nowhere to be found.

You dug your nails into Jake’s back, face buried in his neck. Another wave of pain crashed over you, and you bit your tongue to keep from screaming. When Nat said she would get help, you’d expected Rooster or Bob. Instead, Jake had shouldered his way into your room and scooped you off the floor. While your general sense of direction was scrambled, you had a pretty good idea of where you were heading.

Everyone avoided medical if they could. And, as much as you wanted to keep whatever was happening off your records, something was wrong. In the recesses of your memory, you recalled when your mother’s appendix burst, and she’d been taken to emergency surgery. Would they be able to do surgery on the carrier? You were halfway between Hawaii and reaching the port in California. If they MEDEVAC’d you, would the helo get you to a hospital in time? What would happen if you didn’t get surgery fast enough?

Through the haze of pain, you heard Jake barking demands as soon as you entered the sick bay. But his touch was gentle as he laid you on the bed the corpsman directed him to. Nat spoke for you as pain froze your vocal cords, Jake’s calloused fingers brushing the sweaty hair from your forehead. Nausea gripped you, and the cramps migrated to your lower back. 

And then they were gone, strangers crowding your field of vision. Unfamiliar hands tugged at your clothes and touched you as you tried to look past them. An oxygen mask was slipped over your face when you started to hyperventilate. Without thinking, you threw out an arm and felt strong fingers close around yours, squeezing tightly. Over the shoulders of the corpsman, you saw worry pinch Jake’s face, green eyes darting across your features. 

Then the room seemed quiet, broken only by a nurse ordering, “Go get the doc.” Someone moved enough for him to reclaim the spot at your side. The ultrasound wand pressed into your stomach continued to move, but you focused on your breathing and the grounding feeling of Jake’s thumb stroking your cheek above the mask’s elastic band. 

Someone else entered the room, and you tracked the woman as she took over the ultrasound, moving the wand across your stomach. Her brows were furrowed as she studied the image before shaking her head. When her piercing gaze lifted to meet yours, you felt the world disappear. “Lieutenant, did you know you’re pregnant?” 

Exiting the LT Colonel’s office, you forced yourself to breathe. You’d known this upcoming deployment would be rough but now there was the additional stress of cross-training as an analyst. Since starting your career, your job was briefing what the analysts provided. But now? Now, your boss wanted you to start working on learning the basics of geospatial intel (GEOINT). 

The carrier was the best place to start, the Colonel had explained. You would be able to see the real-time results of the analysis and the shift of assets and personnel to support the mission. “You need to do this if you’re going to advance. You’ve got the briefing down, Lieutenant, but if you want to get to Maryland, you’ll need a better understanding of what’s going on from the ground up,” he’d said.

You’d never expressed an interest in going to the Office of Naval Intelligence, but he thought you had what it took to work at the heart of Navy intel. 

The rest of the day passed in a daze, and you drove home on autopilot. Nat texted, inviting you to the Hard Deck, but you declined. Standing under the shower spray, you closed your eyes and swallowed hard.

GEOINT was directly connected to missions. Its data interpretations were central to planning operations, including determining where to send assets. 

Like F18s.

Pilots.

Your friends.

Nat.

Jake.

The thought of sending them into harm's way made your heart race. Delivering the information to higher-ups to allow them to determine what happened was one thing, but it was a whole other to be the one getting the raw data and interpreting it. One small decision could mean the difference between success and failure - life or death. 

Could you maintain objectivity, knowing that your work might send people you lov… cared about into harm’s way? 

Green eyes flashed in your vision. The phantom feeling of lips on your shoulders. Arms encircling your waist. A chuckle rang in your ears. 

No. If you had to do this - if it was your career or a man - you would choose your career. It mattered more than a fling that you’d let go on too long. You’d known from the beginning that the clock was ticking on your… whatever… with Jake. Nat had warned you from the start that he didn’t do relationships. And you weren’t looking for one. “It doesn’t mean anything,” you told yourself again. Sex didn’t mean anything. You enjoyed each other, and you were guaranteed an orgasm or three every time he came over. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you said, ignoring the extra toothbrush in the cabinet.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you repeated, pushing aside his t-shirt that had somehow ended up in your drawer.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you snapped, swiping away the picture he’d texted of his bed, the covers pulled back on the side you usually slept on with an invitation to come over. 

“Pregnant?” Jake’s voice cut through your shock. “She’s not pregnant - I mean, look at her!” 

“I am,” the doctor said coolly, pushing the ultrasound wand into your stomach and turning the screen. And there, for everyone to see, was a baby.

“That’s not - ” you forced out before grunting as another cramp hit. Gasping, you clutched Jake’s hand tightly, feeling his shaking. The doctor quickly cleared the room of unnecessary personnel and stood at your feet.

“Lieutenant, I need to check, but I believe you're in labor.” You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. “I’ll wait until the contraction ends, but I need to see how far along you are. How long have you been in pain?” 

The USS Theodore Roosevelt should have been your refuge. Nine months at sea was precisely what you needed to get Jake Seresin out of your system.

But fate was cruel, and a few members of the Dagger Squad were assigned to the carrier for the deployment. Nat shared the news when you went out for dinner, your counter for her asking to meet for drinks at the Hard Deck. If you never went to the pilot bar again, it would be too soon. And you were sure Jake would welcome your staying away.

It would be a long time before you forgot his look of surprise as you tumbled out of his bed and dressed quickly. Having sex one last time had been a mistake, especially when you’d gone over with the express purpose of ending it. After almost a year of messing around, he deserved more than a text, but your resolve faltered when he crowded you against the kitchen counter and stole kisses as he made dinner.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said, tugging on your shirt, unable to meet his gaze. 

“What?” 

“This. I can’t…” From the corner of your eye, you saw him sit up, sheets pooling in his lap. “I don’t think we should.” While you’d tried to make yourself sound confident, your statement came out as a question.

“Why?”

“It’s not a good idea,” you stated. Your treacherous heart fractured when you forced yourself to look up. Confusion was etched across his face, hair a mess from your fingers running through it. Taking a deep breath, you forced a smile onto your wobbling lips. “It’s been fun.” 

“‘It’s been fun’,” he echoed. And then, between one blink and the next, his expression smoothed into a mask of indifference. “It didn’t mean anything.” 

“It didn’t mean anything.” You rolled your lips together to hide your wobbling chin. 

Preparing to deploy kept you busy over the next few weeks. In addition to packing, you had to meet with your property management to renew your lease and make sure they would check on your apartment while you were gone. Bills needed to be put on autopay, and your credit card company notified that you would be out of the country. You had an appointment to get a Power of Attorney set up for your parents and Will updated. A few days before you were to leave, they were planning to fly out to see you off at the port and drive your car back home so they could maintain it for you. Then, you had to complete the medical and dental clearances. 

The night before your parents arrived, Nat invited you to the Hard Deck to have drinks with everyone for an impromptu farewell party. It sounded more fun than cleaning out your pantry for anything that would expire while you were gone, but the odds of Jake being there were too high. When you texted to decline, her response made you pause.

Look, I know whatever was happening between you and Hangman ended. He’s been a depressing asshole. But he’s not gonna be there tonight. Think about coming?

The idea of Jake being sad made your stomach sink, reinforcing your decision to end it. Your arrangement was just supposed to be sex, and somewhere along the way, you’d started to fall for him. Which you couldn’t do. Not if you wanted to advance your career and protect your stupid heart. 

So, against your better judgment, you stripped off your clothes, dirty from cleaning the house, and stepped into the shower. The whole way to the bar, you toyed with the hem of your dress, promising to be in and out in an hour. Just enough time to have a drink and say bye to everyone before returning to your tasks. It was a surprise to see Nat waiting in the parking lot, and she hurried over to your car as you parked. “Okay, don’t hate me,” she said as soon as you opened the door.

“He’s here,” you guessed, resisting the urge to start the engine.

“He got here a minute ago. I swear, he said he wasn’t coming.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you took a deep breath.

“It’s fine.” Lie. “We’re gonna see each other on the carrier. Might as well get used to it.” 

You felt his gaze as soon as you walked in and forced yourself not to look for him. With a beer in hand, you followed Nat to the - thankfully Jake-free - pool table and greeted the other aviators. While you’d planned on having just the one drink, shots were quickly pressed into your hand as everyone wanted to buy for the poor suckers facing months without alcohol. Your attempts to turn them down were ignored. But no amount of alcohol could numb the jolt of pain when you saw Jake casually toss his arm over another woman’s shoulders, pulling her close to whisper in her ear. 

A surge of hate shot through you like a lightning bolt. Hate for him touching her. For her flirty giggle and fingers toying with his flight suit zipper. For your letting yourself have feelings for him. For coming out tonight and getting tipsy enough that you couldn’t drive for a little while.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you told Nat, giving her a fake smile. 

“Want me to come with?” she asked, concern furrowing her brow. 

“Nah, finish your game with the guys. I’ll be back in a bit.” Dropping your empty beer bottle on the bar, you pushed through the late evening crowd to get to the patio. The cool night air was a welcomed counterpoint to your flushed cheeks as you brushed past the people mingling to get to the stairs. Your feet slid in the sand as you walked to the shore after kicking off your shoes. Moving away from the lights and noise from the Hard Deck, you walked along the waterline, waves crashing over your feet. Tears pricked your eyes, and you swallowed the scream that threatened to choke you.

Two and a half weeks. That’s all it took for him to find your replacement in his bed. It was good that you’d swallowed those three words that had threatened to spill from your lips every time he left. When he did something so sweet, you could pretend he cared about more than sex. When you fell asleep with his heartbeat under your cheek or his breath on the back of your neck, fingers drawing nonsensical patterns on your skin. 

The sound of footsteps drew you from your thoughts, and you looked over your shoulder, spotting the person you didn’t want to see jogging toward you. Quickly dashing away the tears on your cheeks, you kept walking, ignoring his calls for you to stop. And then he was there, planting himself in front of you and blocking your way. You itched to throw your shoes at him and took some satisfaction when the next wave washed over his boots and soaked the legs of his suit. “What?” you demanded.

“‘What?’” he echoed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re the one who stormed out.”

“I didn’t ‘storm out,’” you snapped. “I needed some air.”

“Why?” 

“Because!” He stepped closer, and you tried to step back, but your feet had sunk into the sand, and you stumbled. Jake’s hand shot out to steady you, and you quickly shook it off. “Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t touch you. Don’t talk to you. Can I look at you, or is that against your rules?” Sarcasm colored his voice, and you bristled.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

A huff of disbelief burst from him, and he ran through his hair. “Why the hell are you mad at me?” 

“I’m not mad.”

“Coulda fooled me.” 

“Leave me alone, Jake.” Your shoulders knocked when you pushed past him.

“You don’t get to be pissed when you’re the one who ended it.” 

“And I can tell you’re real torn up about that. I’m sure that tag chaser is more than happy to kiss you all better.” 

His laugh was cruel. “Oh, so that’s what this is about. You’re jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous!” 

“Lie to yourself more convincingly, sweetheart.” Those taunting words were like a dagger to the heart. Gritting your teeth, you stormed toward him, lifted your hands, and shoved. Jake stumbled but managed to stay on his feet. You shoved again, and he caught your hands, using them to pull you closer. Trapping both of your wrists in one hand against his chest, he tossed your shoes further up the beach before clamping an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. “You didn’t like seeing me touch her, did you? Only want me to touch you? Fuck you and make you feel good?” 

“No,” you said through clenched teeth. The arm around your waist disappeared as he gently wiped the tears from your cheek.

“‘No’ you didn’t care, or ‘no’ you only want me touching you?”

“No.” 

Jake’s eyes narrowed, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “It didn’t mean anything.” 

“It didn’t mean anything,” you reminded yourself. His eyes roamed your face, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. 

“You know… you might be the worst thing that ever happened to me,” he said, shaking his head. Your breath caught as he released your hands and stepped back. Turning away, he moved up the beach and retrieved your shoes. You followed in a daze, trying to process his words. The worst thing that ever happened to him? You?

Your fingers grazed when he handed you the shoes. The weak moonlight cast shadows over his features, giving you a false sense of safety when you admitted, “I was jealous.” Jake lifted a hand before letting it drop back to his side. Pushing aside your rational self, you stepped into his space and pushed onto your toes, hand splayed on his chest. When you kissed him, he didn’t respond, and mortification washed through you as you fell back onto your heels. “I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered, stepping away from him and turning toward the Hard Deck. You needed to leave. You needed to get away from him. Space to clear your - 

A hand tugged you backward. Jake’s mouth crashed into yours, tongue tracing the seam of your lips and demanding entry. Your shoes hit the sand again, one hand tangling in his hair while the other felt his heart pounding under your palm. His hand slid under the hem of your dress, cupping your ass, hauling you against him. You moaned into his kiss, fingers flumbling with his flight suit zipper, needing to erase everywhere that woman had touched him. 

The sand was cool under your knees when he lowered you both to the ground before pulling you into his lap. He shrugged off his flight suit and let you pull off his shirt before slipping the thin straps of your dress from your shoulders and tugging it down, stroking your nipples through your bra before lifting your breast from the cups. Trailing kisses from your mouth down your chest, Jake lavished your breasts with attention as you ground down on his hard cock. Groaning, his fingers slipped under your dress to brush your damp panties. He swallowed your choked moan when he tugged them to the side and ran his thumb over your clit. 

“No time,” you breathed, lifting yourself onto your knees and tugging his zipper further down. Reaching into his briefs, you stroked his cock before drawing it out. Your head fell back as you sank down onto him, the stretch tiptoeing the line of pain and pleasure. Jake cursed under his breath, hands on your hips to help guide you. Once seated, you buried your face in his neck, panting as his fingers flexed around you.

“Need ta move, sweetheart,” he breathed. “Please.” Not shifting from your spot, you nodded and felt his tentative thrusts. Moaning into his skin, you let him set the pace for a minute before taking control. Jake pinched your nipples, smirking against your chest as you rode him until you tugged his head back and kissed him. Those three words were on the tip of your tongue as you chased your pleasure, shattering around him as the waves crashed on the shore. Jake came moments later, teeth digging into the curve of your breast as he grunted and whimpered. 

You traded lazy kisses while catching your breath. When the ocean breeze made you shiver, Jake helped you dress, sitting still when you used his shoulders to steady yourself as you stood. He tucked himself away, and you helped brush the sand from each other after he dressed. His fingers tangled in yours as you made your way back to the bar, your thighs sticky with his cum.

His lips brushed your as you separated before hitting the patio. Once inside, you beelined for the bathroom to clean up. While washing your hands, you studied your reflection, noting the flush on your cheeks and the irritation spots on your throat and chest where Jake’s stubble had scratched you. It wouldn’t be hard for anyone to figure out what you’d been doing. 

Exiting the bathroom, your gaze swept the room. You froze in the hallway, eyes snagging on where Jake stood at the bar, the woman from before beside him. He nodded at something she said while flagging down a bartender. And when he turned to glance at her, she reached up and kissed him. Nausea gripped your stomach, and you looked away. You were an idiot. Hurrying to the pool table, you grabbed your purse and said goodnight. 

As you pulled out of the parking spot, you saw Jake standing in the doorway, watching you leave. 

“I can’t be p-pregnant,” you gasped, ripping the oxygen mask from your face. “I-I would have known.” Pain flickered across your face, and your grip on Jake’s hand tightened as the doctor inserted her fingers, her face a mask of concentration.

“Well, you are,” she said after a moment. “And the baby’s coming. You’re almost fully dilated.”

“What?” Your voice melded with Jake’s. You shook your head, panic gripping your throat. “No. No, no, no, no.” As soon as the doctor’s hand left your body, you tried to get off the exam table. Your knees buckled, and Jake caught you before you hit the floor. You buried your face in his neck. “No. This is a nightmare, I’m not - I can’t - ”

“Lieutenant,” the doc said, crouching beside you. “I know this is scary and not something you were prepared for, but I need you to listen to everything I tell you, alright? You’re too far along for us to MEDEVAC you off the ship. You’re gonna have your little one right here. Alright?”

“No.” 

“I need to let the captain know. We’ll move you to where we have a little more room to navigate this, okay? I’ll send one of the corpsmen in to help you get as comfortable as we can make you for this. Please work with us so we can ensure you and your baby deliver safely.” When you groaned, Jake’s fingers raked through your hair and then lightly squeezed the back of your neck. Pain gripped you, and your hands twisted in his t-shirt as you tensed. 

He drew away, hands on either side of your face as green eyes bore into yours. “I need you to breathe, sweetheart. Don’t hold your breath on me. Breathe.” 

Even while sharing a stateroom with Nat, you were able to avoid Jake for the most part. But even though there were 6,000 people on board, you still ran into one another occasionally. In the wardroom, you shook off Nat’s waves to join their table and sat with your team instead. The few times you went to the gym at the same time, you used the equipment furthest away from him and kept your headphones on. 

Your new assignment kept you busy. In addition to preparing and delivering briefings, you started working with the analysts to learn how to process the raw data you usually received in a polished format. It didn’t help that, as usual, for your first few weeks underway, you felt gross. Being in close quarters with so many people made common illnesses run rampant, and your stomach always took a little while to get used to the food in the wardroom. You fell into bed exhausted at night, stressing about what you would face the next day. 

The first time your data was used for the pilot’s briefing, you were invited into the classroom to listen to the admiral brief the aviators. And, while you nodded to Nat when she smiled at you, you kept your expression blank as you followed the admiral to the front of the room, ignoring the eyes boring into you. 

The carrier hit rough seas around Australia five months into the deployment. In the lower decks, you could feel the ship rolling and knew that topside had to be worse. The constant rocking made you nauseous, but you stayed at your desk. It wasn’t until you went to the coffee shop that you heard what was happening with the aviators. They’d been ordered out for pitching deck training. Takeoff and landing were dangerous at the best of times, but now they had to do it as the ground rolled beneath them. “Gonna have a shit ton of bolters,” the sailor ahead of you said to his buddy. You remembered Nat using that term - it was when the pilot missed the wire and had to circle to try and land again. 

Later that afternoon, you heard the tankers were deploying to aid the planes in the air. Your team was tasked with finding the nearest divert field if conditions worsened and the pilots couldn’t land. But you were more than 700 miles from land. There were no options.

Dinner in the wardroom was a tense affair, the officers sharing what they could about their friends stuck in the air. Rumor had it that they’d scrubbed the mission, grounding all aircraft except the tankers to refuel the jets. As night fell, you knew it would only get worse for your friends as they tried to get back onto the ship. After forcing down a few bites of dinner, you went to the gym, where the bay doors were usually open, and you could see the aircraft line up before landing. Everyone else seemed to have the same idea, as you were told it was useless before you got close. “They close the doors - waves are too high,” another officer said. 

You could feel the carrier rocking side to side the higher you got. Unsure of where else to go, you went to the Ready Room. Pilots watched the radar, commenting on their colleague's attempts and laughing at the jets overhead. “Sorry,” you said, tapping one of the men on the shoulder. “Any updates on Phoenix, Rooster, and Hangman?”

The pilot gave you a look, clearly indicating you weren’t welcome into their inner sanctuary. “Still in the air,” he said after a beat. “Nine jets and three tankers are up.” You nodded your thanks, jumping as there was a thud overhead followed by the roar of an engine. 

“Thanks, I-I appreciate it.” Hurrying out of the room, you debated your next move. There was no way they’d be letting anybody up on deck to watch, and your normal vantage point was closed. There was a chance you could hear what was going on if you returned to your desk - if anyone had to ditch their jet and search and rescue was deployed, that would be announced. Waiting in your room for Nat to come back was out of the question.

With no good options, you paced the hallway outside of the Ready Room. All of the jet pilots would eventually make their way there to debrief or join the watch with their colleagues. As the ship rocked, you found yourself catching the walls. Typically, on a ship this big, you didn’t feel the waves, so the swells had to be massive. 

After chewing your nails down to the quick, you looked up when someone called your name. Nat and Bob were there, looking tired but no worse for the wear. Without thinking, you hurried toward them, throwing your arms around Nat and hugging her tightly before pulling away and doing the same with Bob. “Fuck, I’ve been so worried.” 

“We’re good,” Bob assured you, patting your back before pulling away. “Ready for somethin’ to eat and a shower, but other than that, completely fine.”

“What about J - Rooster and Hangman?” you demanded, catching yourself. 

“Still circling. I’d say they’ve got another few passes before it gets desperate,” Nat shrugged. At your look of alarm, she shook her head. “They’re gonna be fine. They’ll refuel if they need to - the tankers are gonna be staggered for landing to make sure that there’s support in the air if they need it.” 

“Okay,” you nodded, forcing a smile. “Alright. Do you need anything? Can I get you anything?” 

“I’d kill for something to drink,” Nat said. 

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded. “I-I’ll run to the store. Bob?” 

“Jerky’d be good.” 

“You got it. Meet you back here?” 

“We’ll be in there. Just come on in,” Nat said before you hugged them both quickly and walk-ran to the Ship’s Store. The line outside moved agonizingly slow, and you tapped your foot and looked at your watch more than once. This far below deck, you couldn’t hear anything overhead. When you finally got inside, you filled the basket to the brim with snacks and sodas, glad you’d grabbed your wallet with your Navy Cash card before leaving the room.

By the time you returned to the Ready Room, Rooster had landed. His curls were damp with sweat, and he accepted your hug before grabbing some chips from the bags you’d dropped on the table. The snacks had bought your way into the room, as the pilots didn’t say anything as you clung to the wall, listening to them analyze every approach. 

Another pilot entered and grabbed a soda. “Dude, what the fuck?” he laughed while hugging a friend. “I thought I was gonna hit the back of the ship. I looked down, and then WHOOP - I’m wavin’ down at them cause the ship dropped.” He held up his hand to show how much it trembled, which worried you more than anything else. 

Bile rose in your throat as you watched the radar, listening as they laughed as someone hit the deck too hard and bounced, missing the wires and taking off to circle again. “Hangman’s approaching,” Bob told you, his eyes glued to the television. You crossed your arms over your chest and chewed on your thumbnail again as you watched the approach. 

A thud overhead followed by a quick “Hell yes!” let you know he’d caught the wire. Unwelcome tears of relief flooded your eyes, and you quickly blinked them away. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you let yourself sag against the wall. He was safe onboard, and that’s all that mattered. “I-I’m gonna head back to the room,” you said, pushing through the small crowd to Nat. 

“Alright. I’m gonna watch everyone else land and then grab some food.” Nodding, you pulled your friend in for a tight hug, biting back a sob before fleeing the room. 

You must have lingered longer than you thought because, when you stepped into the hallway, you spotted Jake walking toward the Ready Room. He was looking at the floor, scrubbing a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, helmet swinging from his hand. You stopped dead in your tracks and watched as he registered your presence. Something flickered in his eyes, and his long legs ate the distance between you. The helmet clattered on the floor as he reached for you, cupping your face in his gloved hand and kissing you hard. Your arms went around him, clutching as tightly as you could in his g-suit, needing the reassurance that he was fine. His tongue swept into your mouth, a moan rumbling in his throat. 

When you broke apart to breathe, his forehead rested on yours, his breath washing over your face. “You’re okay?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said, throat bobbing before kissing you more gently this time. His thumb stroked your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. “I’m alright, sweetheart. Tired and hungry, but okay.”

“Good,” you nodded before repeating yourself. “Good. There’s soda and sn-snacks in the R-Ready Room.” Nodding again, you forced a smile while stepping out of his arms. 

“Sweet - ”

“Don’t.” Your voice cracked as you held out a shaking hand. “Please don’t. Just…just leave it.” 

That didn’t keep him from reaching for you as you brushed past, his fingers trailing down your arm before you shook him off.

The next hour passed in a blur of pain and confusion, ending in a surge of pain and then relief as they placed a squalling baby on your chest. Jake held your hand throughout the ordeal, encouraging you to breathe and push, ignoring the way you hissed, “I hate you so much,” through the worst of it. When the nurse snapped that you needed to breathe normally, not like a pilot, he quickly adjusted his coaching, afraid of getting kicked out of the room.  

Staring into your son’s eyes, you felt a sense of utter disbelief in his existence. You’d carried him for months, oblivious to his presence as he grew inside you. But you cried when they took him, tracking the little stranger as he was moved around the room until he was safely back in your arms, wrapped in a rough Navy standard-issue blanket. 

“He’s small but healthy - 5 pounds, 4 ounces, and 17 inches long,” the doc said, smiling tiredly. “There’s a helo inbound with supplies, but we’ll make due for now. Congrats, Mom.” Unable to speak around the lump in your throat, you nodded, cradling the boy to your chest and laughing at the small grunts he made as he nuzzled your breast. Jake stroked the baby’s whispy hair before running his thumb over the tiny shell of his ear. 

“He’s so small,” he breathed. “Fuck - ”

“Don’t,” you said, cutting him off. “Don’t cuss around my s-” Clapping a hand to your mouth, you tried to stifle your sob as tears streamed down your face. “My son,” you forced out, trailing the tip of your finger down his button nose. He scrunched his face, tiny fists waving in the air. You caught one, unfurling his fingers and letting them close around your fingertip. You were enraptured by his tiny fingernails and lines in his palm, gently guiding it to your mouth to kiss his knuckles. His eyes opened, meeting yours. “Hi, baby,” you whispered, “I’m your mama.” 

Later, Jake sat in the chair beside your bed as you slept. His shirt was off as he cradled the baby to his chest, staring at the impossible little boy. There was a knock at the door, and he looked up to see the Captain peek in. Jake moved as though to stand, but the older man held up a hand to stop him. “At ease, Lieutenant. Just wanted to stop in and see how the little stowaway was doing.” 

“Great,” he replied, flushing slightly at being shirtless in front of his commanding officer. “Sleeping now.” 

“Good. And Mom?” the Captain asked, his eyes darting toward where you slept. 

“Good. In shock, but good.” 

“I can imagine. May I?” He motioned toward the baby. Reluctant to let him go, Jake handed him over, ensuring the Captain supported his head. “He’s a tiny one, isn’t he?” 

“Yeah.” Jake nodded. 

“Doc told me that everyone was doing well, but I’ll feel better once the Lieutenant and this little guy are on their way back to shore. The helo just landed with diapers, an incubator, and formula, so we’ll get them fueled up and ready to head out in the next few hours.” 

“Right.” The word was strangled, and Jake reached out for the baby. The Captain handed him back with a practiced ease. 

“We’re due in port in three days. Just a temporary separation, Lieutenant,” he said, clapping Jake on the shoulder. “Little man’s gonna need to get used to it, with two parents in the Navy.” Jake cleared his throat, regretting it the instant the baby flailed, tiny fists raising and resting on his cheek. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. They’ll let you know when it’s time.”

“Sir.” With a nod and handshake, the Captain walked toward the door, pausing at the threshold.

“Does he have a name?”

“Not yet.” He smiled, tapping his fist against the wall.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something. Maybe a nod to where he was born?”

Jake thought that watching you being loaded into the helo with the baby in a plastic box and flying away was the hardest thing he’d done. But the next three days at sea were a test of his patience. He fantasized about stealing his jet and flying after you, ignoring the logistics of loading it onto the catapult and that his plane wouldn’t reach California without a refuel. Knowing that you and the baby weren’t on the carrier felt like a hole in his heart.

It was difficult to explain what happened to Bradley and Bob, and he was thankful Nat was there to help. 

The Captain announced the birth over the intercom before you were loaded onto the helo, explaining that the carrier was one heavy and your son the first baby born on the ship. It was all anyone could talk about for the rest of the deployment. Hell, the Navy Times even wrote an article that was picked up by other news agencies. Everyone wondered how you didn’t know you were pregnant. Those who worked closest with you defended you, pointing out that no one would have guessed you were pregnant. And when it came out that you weren’t married, they questioned who the father was.

It wasn’t a surprise when Nat cornered him, demanding an answer to that question. His response was a definitive “Me.” Jake knew in his gut that the baby was his. He’d looked into his eyes and felt a connection he’d never experienced.

Besides, the window of time for you to have gotten pregnant between your pre-deployment exam and getting on the carrier was narrow. There was no one else. 

Calling his family and explaining everything that happened had been hard. While his parents were excited by the idea of a grandchild with the woman they’d heard so much about, his sister cautioned him against claiming the baby without confirmation of paternity. He knew she was a bit suspicious of you, especially after he made the mistake of calling one morning after you’d left, and he’d heard you mutter those four words he despised - “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

“You can’t make her want something more than casual if that’s what you started with,” she’d cautioned, reminding him that you’d locked him out of your apartment that first morning when he left to pick up breakfast and hadn’t opened the door when he knocked. “She’s being upfront with you, at least.” But her advice didn’t stop him from trying to show you how much more he wanted, afraid that if he said the words aloud that he'd whispered when you slept in his arms, you’d run for the hills.  

Launch day couldn’t come soon enough. After nine months on the Roosevelt, Jake was ready to get home. Three days without his son was torture, and he was ready to get home to both of you. Flying in formation back to North Island tested his patience, and he pushed past the families rushing the flight line to greet their loved ones. Nat had argued with him about taking your things, but they were quickly unloaded from his cargo pod. Coyote had dropped off his truck earlier, leaving the keys hidden under the fuel door. While his friend had offered to pick him up, Jake didn’t want to waste time. Besides, he’d see him later - rather than keeping his place during the deployment, he’d broken his apartment lease and put everything into storage. Rather than pay rent, he’d saved the money and planned to sleep on Coyote’s couch until he got a new place. 

Standing in front of a wall of diapers at the store confused the shit out of him, so Jake grabbed a premie and newborn box before detouring to the flowers. The bouquets weren’t the best, but he didn’t have time to visit an actual florist. Picking the best of the options, he checked out and headed to your place.

A strange woman answered the door. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of him in his flight suit and messy hair, flowers in hand, and two boxes of diapers at his feet. “Can I help you?” 

“Ma’am,” Jake said, clearing his throat. “I’m, um, I’m here to see - ” 

An angry squawk drew his attention, and he looked over the woman’s shoulder to see you walking out of the bedroom. “I can’t get him to bur…” you trailed off, catching sight of Jake in your doorway. You breathed his name, hand pausing on your son’s back as he howled. 

“Excuse me,” Jake said, brushing past your mother and striding across your living room. He hesitated in front of you before lifting a hand and covering yours, his thumb lightly stroking the back of your hand. “Can I?” Stunned, you nodded, accepting the roses he handed you in exchange for the baby. You watched as Jake held him to his shoulder, his big hand spanning the baby’s back and patting. “Hey, little man, are you giving Mama a hard time?” 

“I’m gonna take the trash out,” your mother said after stacking the diaper boxes beside the TV stand. You nodded wordlessly, unable to look away from Jake as he walked around your living room, patting the baby’s back and cooing until he let out a loud belch.

“Good man,” Jake chuckled, kissing his cheek. 

“I didn’t realize what day it was. We just got out of the hospital yesterday,” you rambled. “The pediatrician said he’s perfect. I-I didn’t screw him up too much.” Tears clouded your vision, and you bit your lower lip when it wobbled. 

“Hey, sweetheart - it’s okay. C’mere.” Jake held out an arm for you, and you allowed yourself to be pulled into his embrace, feeling his lips on the top of your head. “It’s alright, I’ve gotcha. Both of you.” 

“He’s yours,” you sobbed. “I swear. W-we can d-do a paternity t-test - ”

“I know he is.” 

“He has my last n-name, but I got the paperwork to c-change that if - if that’s what y-you want.” 

“We’ll start with that one,” Jake said, tugging closer. “Won’t we, Teddy?” 

There were so many things you needed to talk about. So much that needed to be done - including introducing himself to who he suspected was Teddy’s other grandmother, and preparing for his family visit with his niece and nephew. But that didn’t matter, as Jake felt his son’s fingers curl into the collar of his flight suit, and you sagged against him. 

Jake had everything he needed.

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

Author's Note: I really thought this one wasn't gonna be this long BUT I managed to cut it down about 800 words from the first draft, so success! Thank you to @mjisbby for the prompt, and I apologize for it taking so long... I know you sent in in October and wanted comedy, but the angst just came pouring out 😅

Basic the fic at sea was drawn from this inspiration, where a sailor had her baby at sea during a deployment. And the pitching deck bit came from watching this video on how dangerous it can be. All the stuff on cryptic pregnancies comes from Googling and reading Reddit boards about women not realizing their pregnancy symptoms until later in their pregnancy. All medical and military inaccuracies are being blamed on ✨fanfic logic✨

Thank you for taking the time to read this very long fic! Title comes from Nothing / Sad N Stuff from Lizzy McAlpine.

Thank you so much for reading this. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please fill out my tag list form (hyperlinked).

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