#help its invading my brain

[ghostgirl606]

New..... Interest....

ONE WHEAT MARK!!!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

(none of this art is mine btw)

[queenbeearts]

im mary poppins yall!!!

[kristoffs-lullaby]

if something’s wrong, you can count on me

[maemil]

Finally made it to the first appearance of Barriss on my rewatch and I genuinely forgot just how cute the interactions between her and Ahsoka are... the scene at the end of Brain Invaders where they're both freezing and Ahsoka is holding Barriss in her arms is just! Altered ten year old me's brain chemistry permanently.

[bethiewhimsy]

i literally have shit to do but i’m too excited to think. look at what bsd does to a prince.

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 33 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley can't wait to learn if Rose is going to have a younger brother or sister. Planning for the baby means planning for the future, but Bradley can feel that you're unhappy. With help from friends, he finally figures out why.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy, vomiting

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

You'd been quiet for days, chalking it up to exhaustion from work, but Bradley was a little concerned. He was missing out on a lot of cooking and cleaning at home, as well as responsibilities with Rose. Most days, he was collapsing in bed right after you, body tired and brain overworked. But he was close to advancing a few of his pilots to the next stage in their careers, and he didn't want to let up just yet.

Truthfully, he was enjoying many aspects of his day-to-day at work. He loved making decisions that would benefit his group. When he had a compelling answer for his superior officers, it made him feel so good about himself. He didn't even mind putting in the extra hours. But it was clear that Indigo wanted to be his class pet, and he wasn't quite sure what to do about that.

She was weighing on his mind a lot, most likely because she was constantly invading his office hours. He wanted to tell her she didn't have to try so hard to be the best aviator in the bunch when she just simply was the best one. But that would be feeding her ego, which probably wasn't the smartest option right now.

"Are you ready?"

Bradley looked up from his desk to see you standing there, and he jumped to his feet. "Of course I'm ready," replied with a smile, pushing all of his paperwork to the side and logging out of his computer. "Been looking forward to this."

You smiled softly, hand resting on the slight swell of your belly as you shifted your weight from one booted foot to the other. "Me too," you whispered, and Bradley grabbed his keys, wallet and phone from his desk drawer. He reached for your hand, lacing his fingers between yours and headed out into the sunny October afternoon.

"Time for our final guesses," you said. "Do you think it's a boy or another girl?"

Bradley looked down at your face, the perfect curve of your cheek catching the sunlight. You were beautiful. Every bit as stunning as the day he first laid eyes on you in one of the classrooms he passed on a regular basis. "Sweetheart, if there's anything good or just in this world, it better be another girl. Then I'd have three of you to look at."

"Rose looks like you, Bradley!" you insisted immediately, breaking out in the biggest smile he'd seen on your face in weeks. 

"Rose looks like you. Everyone thinks so. She's adorable." He pulled you to a stop and leaned down to kiss your cheek. "And her face already has this exact curve that I'm fucking obsessed with." 

Bradley let his lips linger, loving the way your cheek warmed as you stepped all the way into his embrace. You seemed on the verge of telling him something or asking a question, your posture never quite relaxing. He'd noticed that recently. Like you couldn't let yourself completely go with him like you always did. He wanted to ask you what was going on, but he was more than willing to wait until you were ready to say something on your own.

"We'll be late if we don't get a move on," you whispered. Bradley responded by kissing along your cheek to your lips. "I'm serious, Roo," you mumbled.

"Let's go," he sighed. "Dr. Morris already thinks I'm an idiot. I better not add tardiness to her list of complaints about me."

A short drive later, and the two of you were walking into the waiting room right on time. You barely sat down before a nurse was calling you back and handing you a hospital gown.

"It's weird without Rose here," you said as you got undressed. Bradley held out the gown for you to slip into, shaking his head.

"Nah. This is just for us. She can hear all about it later after work."

He was just about to close the distance to stop you from tying the gown closed so he could get another look at you, but Dr. Morris strolled in.

"How are we all doing?" she asked, shooting Bradley a look on her way past. It wasn't like he was capable of knocking you up again, but she was looking at him like he might have.

"Fantastic," he replied at the same time you said, "Okay."

He shot you a look as you eased yourself up on the table. He wasn't sure what he could do to make you happier. A conversation was clearly necessary now, but he didn't even know how to initiate it. If finding out more about the second Nugget today wasn't enough to make you smile, he didn't know what was.

He dropped down into the chair at your side, wrapping his big hand around yours as Dr. Morris spread that warm gel across your belly and asked you an array of questions. He listened to your answers as his heart beat a little faster. He was excited about this. Soon you could talk about baby names and nursery themes. He couldn't wait to meet his second child in the spring. 

Bradley kissed your fingertips, watching intently as your doctor isolated some ultrasound images. Then she asked, "Do you want to find out the sex?"

"Fuck yes," Bradley gasped, scooting his chair a little closer. "I mean, please."

You and Dr. Morris were both wearing smirks as he squeezed your hand. He was so excited, it was hard to swallow. He didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. He felt the same way last time around, too. He just wanted a healthy kid he could dote on.

"It's a girl."

He was up out of his seat, sending the thing screeching across the floor as he hooted. Okay, so maybe he did have a bit of a preference for another daughter, but he would have been happy either way.

"Another girl!" he shouted while you smiled up at him. "Just me and my three beautiful girls."

Bradley let his lips collide with yours, kissing you until he got his fill. Dr. Morris and the rest of the ultrasound and everything else could just wait a few minutes while he soaked in this pure perfection.

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

Bradley had been inundating your text thread for days with links to various nursery themes, but meanwhile you and he hadn't even decided which room would be your second daughter's.

"A second daughter," you whispered at your desk. Your parents were excited; you got to watch your mom and dad cry over FaceTime. Rose was too young to care, but one day she might have an opinion about her sister. You, on the other hand, felt like a mixed bag of emotions.

You wanted to be happy. You really did. But it was too hard. Somehow letting your sadness ebb and flow was easier. Especially whenever you ventured too far away from your lab or your office. Indigo was always around. It was like she knew were to find you. And perhaps she did. Your name was in the directories around base. But it felt like she was mocking you. She obviously wanted your husband, and he was either oblivious or hiding something.

When you managed to let your intrusive thoughts win out, you checked his phone only to find pretty much nothing untoward. Other than ruining the surprise of what was probably supposed to be an anniversary gift, all you found was one unanswered message Indigo sent to him a while ago. It bordered on flirtatious, and you were a little concerned that he gave her his phone number, but there was really nothing there.

But she was in your face on base enough that you kept to your office as much as you could. Of course, today was the day you were absolutely starving, and you left your lunch at home. You could pop down to the cafeteria, grab a sandwich to appease yourself and the baby, and then bring it back up here to eat it. Should be a piece of cake.

Hot turkey sandwiches were on the menu, and you almost cried tears of joy as you had one packed up in a container with extra gravy and a side of mashed potatoes. It smelled so good, you couldn't wait to take a bite. 

When you were waiting for the elevator, you froze with your lunch in your hands. You could see Indigo and Spice heading out of the cafeteria, and there was hardly anyone in the lobby for you to try to hide behind. You felt absolutely ridiculous as you stood there eavesdropping.

"What kind of progress have you made?" Spice asked, voice carrying over the sound of conversation around you.

Indigo smiled and laughed, showing off her perfect teeth. "Well, I can't give you details here, but... it's no wonder he's willing to spend so much time with me after hours. Anyone with eyes can see his wife let herself go this time around." Your cheeks burned as she added, "He's more than happy to help me with absolutely anything I need."

You sucked in a deep breath, certain she was talking about Bradley. And you. When the elevator arrived you ducked inside, jamming your finger against the button for your floor. As the doors slid shut, Indigo's gaze connected with yours, and she stood there proudly with her friend like she'd actually managed to steal Bradley from you.

A sob escaped your lips, and you tripped along to your office door. You really did look awful. Your skin was broken out, and you were going to need to start wearing the maternity tent well before your third trimester. Your belly was already tender, and then the baby decided this was the perfect moment to kick hard enough you thought you were going to wet your khakis.

"She's right," you whispered, tossing your lunch onto your desk and running for the bathroom. One glance in the mirror as you ran for an empty stall left you sobbing in the ladies' room. You looked awful. It was no wonder Bradley was paying extra attention to her. The fear that looking at Indigo had already turned into touching her was eating away at you. When you flushed the toilet, you turned and gagged before emptying the meager contents of your stomach into the bowl.

When you finally made it back to your office, your stomach couldn't handle a single bite of food. You dumped it in the trash.

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

Bradley was just wrapping up a meeting with Maverick when Indigo cornered him outside his office. "Can I help you with something?" he asked, trying to keep the amusement from his voice. She was getting to be relentless.

As she shook her head slowly, she laughed. "I already told you, Sir, I can think of countless things you could help me with."

"Well why don't you run some of them past me?"

Her eyes widened as she licked her lips. "We could do that at the Hard Deck? I could still buy you that drink?"

Bradley sighed, hands planted on his hips which somehow drew her in closer. "I can't let any of you buy me drinks. Sorry, but that's not going to happen." He nodded toward his door. "But I have about fifteen minutes if there's something I can help you with."

She nodded. "Fifteen minutes would probably be more than enough, Sir."

Indigo stepped inside his office, glancing back at him over her shoulder, but Bradley saw another familiar face turn the corner in the hallway.

"Hey, there, hot shot," said Natasha, making Bradley smile. "You have a minute?"

"Actually, no," he replied, watching as his best friend looked inside to see who was waiting for him. She made a face, gaze snapping back to his. "Can it wait until later?"

Nat pressed her lips together like she was fighting off a scowl. "I wanted to see if you were free to workout with me later," she whispered. "I could stop by after dinner, and we could do some reps in your garage?"

"Absolutely," he replied. "See you around seven?"

"Yeah." 

She took one more look at Indigo before marching back the way she came, leaving Bradley with nothing to do but take a seat behind his desk.

"Do you want me to close the door?" Indigo asked, voice laced with hope as she half stood.

"Leave it," Bradley replied, once again showing no hint of favoritism. "Now, what did you want to talk about?"

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

After dinner, you excused yourself to Rose's nursery to feed her and make a phone call to your parents. Bradley kissed you on the forehead before doubling back to the bedroom to change into gym clothes. When he let you know Nat was coming over to workout in the garage, you seemed almost relieved.

He started setting up his weights and bench press when he heard the sound of a familiar engine pull up to the house. A minute later, Nat was strolling in wearing bright pink spandex with a matching gym bag. 

"I could spot you a mile away," he told her, and she chucked her bag at his chest. They both laughed when he caught it.

"You know what I can see a mile away?" she asked.

"What?"

"The word dumbass written across your forehead."

He rolled his eyes, dropping her bag onto one of the mats. Then he froze as he heard another engine pull up to a stop at his driveway. This one made him glare at Nat.

"Why is he here?" Bradley asked, and a split second later, Jake came strolling in like he owned the place. 

Nat and Jake shared a look as Jake tossed his gym bag next to hers. "I thought I might need some backup."

Now Bradley was annoyed and also confused. "Backup? For what?"

Natasha closed the distance to him, patting Bradley on the chest with a firm hand. Her dark eyes conveyed concern as she asked, "Are you fucking stupid? Or are you doing it on purpose?"

"Huh?"

"I love you, Bradley. I really do. But I still have to follow girl code."

"Nat, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about."

The clanging of Jake adding weights to the bar made Bradley want to scream as Nat shook her head in pity.

"She wants in your pants," Jake drawled.

"Who?" Bradley asked, still unsure what they were even talking about.

"Your student with the crazy blue eyes!" Nat said, smacking him hard on the chest.

"Indigo?" Bradley asked, taking a step away from her. Both Nat and Jake were nodding as Bradley's brow creased. "She's like twenty-six years old."

"So?" Nat asked, hands planted on her hips.

"So, she's not trying to get in my pants. I'm married. Everyone knows I'm married."

Bradley held up his left hand, complete with wedding band. He rarely ever took it off, especially since it got him into hot water with you when he was deployed. But as he watched the band shine under the fluorescent lights, his lips parted wordlessly, and he stood there while both Nat and Jake scrutinized him.

If Indigo had been flirting with him this whole time, he'd written her off as an overzealous young pilot trying to prove herself. Now every interaction replayed through his mind, and he rubbed his palm over his eyes as he groaned. There was no way this was happening to him. He'd been alone with her on several occasions in his office. The door always remained open, but she'd pushed for him to close it.

Bradley's cheeks burned with mortification, and he wasn't sure he could even look Nat in the face. If Indigo really was trying to get in his pants, then he was a joke. He was an absolute joke, and none of the younger pilots took him seriously in his new role. That thought made him sick, but not as sick as the idea that maybe you'd noticed something as well.

Bradley swallowed hard. "Oh, fuck." When he swallowed again, he wanted to scream.

"Okay, there's my answer," Nat whispered, wrapping her fingers gently around his wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. She pressed herself up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thank god you're just stupid. It would be so much worse if you were messing around with her intentionally."

"I'm not," he barked, angry at the insinuation. "I wouldn't. I've never even touched her!"

Nat's hands were on his chest, coaxing him to calm down, but he was too worked up. "Easy, Soul Sister," she said, but he was shaking his head now.

"I'm fucking married, Nat! I made wedding vows. I have a daughter, and my wife is pregnant with another girl. What the fuck would I cheat for? What's going to be better than this?"

Bradley's chest was heaving with ragged breaths as she guided him to sit on his bench. He landed hard, jostling the weights as he looked up at two sympathetic faces.

"Nothing's gonna be better than Angel," Jake drawled. "I'm still not sure if it was dumb luck or divine intervention, but she's way out of your league, Bradshaw."

"I know," Bradley snarled. "You think I don't know that? She's fucking perfect." He tilted his head back, blinking up at the lights. "Do you think she knows Indigo was trying to flirt with me?"

"Absolutely," Nat replied, and Bradley forced himself to meet her eyes.

"Yes, asshole," Jake added. "She's not stupid like you are."

"Fuck." Bradley stood and started pacing around. He felt like his job and marriage were suddenly on the line. He didn't know what to say to you that wouldn't potentially make things worse right now. If he could think of something reasonable, he'd run across the yard and back inside the house and say it to your face.

Maybe this was part of the reason you'd been so quiet? But it didn't make sense. He never talked about Indigo outside of the context of work, because there was simply nothing else to say. But after that night at the bar, you were really fucking mad at him. He thought you were mad that he got drunk, but maybe there was more to it.

"God damn it," he groaned, realizing Nat was lifting weights while Jake spotted her. "Do you think I should talk to Mav tomorrow?"

"Yes," they both replied in unison. The fact that they agreed on something was scary enough, but that let Bradley know just how fucked he was.

But he would take care of everything. He'd talk to Mav and figure it all out. What other choice did he have? 

"I'm heading inside," he murmured. "Can the two of you turn off the lights and lock up when you're done."

Bradley didn't wait for an answer. He was already walking across the backyard, craving your reassuring touch that he wasn't quite sure he deserved. When his phone vibrated in the pocket of his shorts, he pulled it out. He was met with another text from Indigo, but this time there was a photo as well. She was on the beach at sunset, the orange and pink sky somehow making her eyes look even more startlingly blue, and she was smiling at the camera. When his eyes slid down the screen to her cleavage, he almost dropped his phone. But not before he read the text.

This beach is so beautiful. Wish you were here.

Bradley couldn't decide what to do. Turn around and go back to the garage? Go inside the house? Sit down on Rose's jungle gym and cry? Smash his phone to bits? When another text appeared, he looked at it immediately.

Oops, I sent that to the wrong person. Have a good night, Sir.

Bradley squeezed his phone in his hand until he was afraid it might break. Then he opened a different text thread and pounded out a message, hitting send immediately. 

Mav, I need to talk to you about something important first thing in the morning.

When Bradley noticed movement, he looked up at the sliding glass door. You were carrying Rose around the living room, bouncing her in your arms as you yawned. Getting the Nugget ready for bed was supposed to be his job. He loved it. The bedtime stories and the snuggles were the best part. He needed to have this.

Finally he walked inside, sliding the door closed quietly behind him, trying not to panic. Rose was nearly asleep, but you let him take her into his arms. Bradley kissed her all over her sweet face before forfeiting her to her crib, then he climbed in bed with you. When he reached for your hand, you curled up against him, and he let his hand rest along your belly.

"I love you, Sweetheart," he whispered, heart aching. "I love my three girls."

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

Start getting your shit together, Bradley. Indigo has shown she's relentless. Also, I thought I was solid on the baby's name, but I might put it to a vote. Stay tuned. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 34

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[storiesfromafan]

His Nightmare - Mattheo x Reader

A/N: do forgive me and my lack of Mattheo stories, or updates on my Obsessed series. But I am back, gracing you with a small under 1000 word one-shot.

I promise I am workiing on the next part of Obsessed 😅

They say Mattheo Riddle was possessive and a psycho when it came to you, his girlfriend. And that was warranted. The only thing most students didn’t know was that you were just as bad, if not worse then your boyfriend.

A silly Hufflepuff girl makes goo-goo eyes at Mattheo as she passes him in the hallway. You’re waiting a head of her, by a set of stairs. And when she is near, that girl accidently ends up going down them all the while you look on with a pointed glare.

An over confident Gryffindor girl passes Mattheo a note in potions, while you’re sitting next to him. Sure you both had a laugh at her stupid confession. But she ends up with detention after you hex her potion to explode when Snape is inspecting her potion. The classroom unfortunately has to deal with a dark cloud due to Snape being covered in a foamy substance.

A cocky Ravenclaw girl falls into Mattheo's lap when out in the courtyard, giggling and calling herself clumsy. When she’s far from it. Of course your boyfriend rolls his eyes and plays nice. But you don’t hold your tongue. Telling her to get her brain checked for a possible misplaced brain cell. Or better yet, go to Madam Pomfry and get her to use her bone growth potion to help fix her shotty legs. While you’re at it, get a life and sod off, as Mattheo ain’t interested in no bird brain. That last part a shot at the girls house.

Slytherin girls knew better. As the last, and only, girl to try to make a move on your boyfriend got the worse of it. No one will say what happened to her, but no one confirms nor denies an unforgivable curse was used. And that girl hadn’t returned after going home for Christmas break. Which didn’t help the rumors.

You’re a strong, darkness in Mattheo's life. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. For he was the same. Two dark souls, all consuming and loving the other. The unofficially titled King and Queen of Slytherin.

Lounging in the courtyard, you were propped up against a large tree. Your loving boyfriend was laying down, head resting on your lap. He was smoking a cigarette while you were reading and running your fingers threw his dark locks. Peace for the moment for you both. Something that doesn’t happen often. Your friends either in detention or bothering other students.

“I heard some interesting gossip" Mattheo said after expelling the latest draw from his cigarette.

“Hmm, really? Do tell" you replied turning the page you’d just finished.

He chuckled recalling the gossip. “I heard some Hufflepuff girl in flying lessons fell off her broom today".

“Oh? Is that all?” You questioned with amusement, your lips quirking at the corner in a small smirk.

Mattheo smirked to himself. “No, no. It seems the silly girls broom took off on its own. Taking her on a rather lively ride around the open area, before finally shaking her off and into a ditch".

You giggled darkly. “Is that so? How clumsy of her".

Mattheo looked up to you, amused by the joy you were experiencing from his words. “I thought you would have told me love, as you were in that class".

You marked your page and closed the book, setting it down beside you. You looked down at your boyfriend with warmth and satisfaction in your eyes. Leaning down you placed a small, lingering kiss up on his lips. The taste of his current cigarette invading you, but you most definitely enjoyed it when it was mixed with his own natural taste. Pulling back you gave him a beaming smile.

“It must have slipped my mind love, sorry" was your simple reply with a cute giggle. Before you sat back up, picking up your book and continuing were you left off.

Mattheo laughed, feeling nothing but pride. “Hmm, yes it must have".

He knew it was you. But what he didn’t know was that the Hufflepuff was mouthing off about you. Saying how Mattheo could do better then you. How you were beneath him. How she was better. You had laughed at that. And hexed her broom to teach her a lesson. Which it has, as when you crossed paths earlier in the hallway, as she was heading from the infirmary, displaying a frightened look on her face before she scuttled away. Tail between her legs.

Yes, girl after girl who comes up against you learns their lesson. Other female students know their place, but there are still those that step forward to challenge you. And you will always knock them down, to the place beneath you, were they belong.

“You are such a nightmare" Mattheo mused with delight and love.

You smiled, twisting one of Mattheo's curls around a finger. “Yes love, but I am and always will be your nightmare".

A/N: requests are open 😊

[cry4mina]

Lascivious

(BackTattoo!Sana x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 4.9k

Smut

Summary: You unintentionally walk in on Sana, completely naked, and see a large tattoo you never noticed before. You're admiring the artwork but she has her eyes on something else.

TW: this is literally just fucking. If that’s not something you want to read, please don’t! Slapping, teasing, biting, fighting for who is on top, Sana has a dragon back tattoo, overstimulation, choking...uh degradation maybe? Let me know if I missed anything

A/N: Thank you @neoplatinum for letting me write a story *cough porn cough* about back tattoo Sana and to @nr1chaedickrider for scheming hehehe. And thank you to @tttwiceeluvrr for the request that I thieved from Neo! @myouicieloz for helping me spark the idea for the same cuz i was STRUGGLING lmaoo Please enjoy what my Sana brain rot produce and thank you for reading<3

—

Music bumps through the house, vibrating the walls and rattling the framing of the pictures scattered.The high hats ringing off the ceilings, bass reverberating through the floor. Sana knew you were coming. You made plans to go out to eat that day at 1:30pm after schedules, she couldn’t have forgotten right?

Letting yourself in, you walked through the halls to the source of the loudness, finding the master bedroom cracked with about an inch of space between the door and threshold. Yelling her name was useless, music blanketing any sound that could’ve been made in a 20 foot proximity.

Pushing the door open curiously, you take your first few steps into the room when her shadow comes into your view, stopping you dead in your tracks.

Sana was in her walk-in closet, completely nude, facing her clothes and attempting to pick out an outfit. The curvature of her was enough to send you into a panic, perfectly smooth skin draped over a frame even Gods were jealous of. Muscles noticeably flexing as she slid a shirt across the rod bolted into the wall.

Seeing her bare like this wasn’t the only thing that surprised you.

An entire back piece, a dragon in Japanese traditional style, lay across her, fitting that perfect frame in a way that was almost natural. Like she was born with it. Getting lost in the intricacies of the details, beautifully designed with near perfect line work ascending her spine.

Head of the dragon on her shoulder, body of scales intertwining down her back over part of her ribs, claws on her hips and tailed stretched down her butt and ending at the top of her thigh. Cherry blossom petals balancing the negative space throughout the piece, shading perfectly balanced and clear. This was a work of art.

You are suddenly hyper aware of everything around you. The loudness of the music, the softness of the carpet, the way your heartbeat picks up its pace, arguing with the bass in the music, and how your lungs are struggling to function properly. Your underwear is in the beginning stages of being ruined, unable to help yourself imagining her looking down at you between her legs.

Mind completely mesmerized and your body moving without your permission, you step into the closet to get a closer look at the artwork on the masterpiece that was Minatozaki Sana.

Your hands lift and lightly start tracing the line of the dragon’s head on her shoulder, startling her. Her back muscle tensed underneath your touch, before she whipped around to see you absolutely enchanted by her naked body along with the ink laid into her skin.

Attempting to keep eye contact and not look down at her chest, already feeling horrible about invading this much of her privacy to begin with but your pussy was soaking at the thought of making her cum.

There’s a glimmer of something present behind her eyes, a slight smirk slithers across her face when she sees how red you are. Your brain immediately releasing cortisol into your veins causing your blood to run cold in panic.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve knocked.” abruptly shouted over the speaker system before attempting to get out of that room. Absolutely embarrassed that you didn’t just turn around and leave in the first place.

Speeding to the door, the music was halting mid song and you hear “I’ll be ready in a minute!” before you close the door behind you and almost sprint to the living room. Thinking about just leaving entirely when your phone vibrates twice in your pocket. A text from Sana.

Sana: You better not leave! We have lunch plans.

You: Fine.

Sana: :)

How could she just know you were going to try and escape the situation? More importantly, how could you not just stop yourself from approaching her? What an invasion of space.

Hands reach to cover your face in shame when you hear Sana’s crisp giggle emerge from the hall that connects the living room to the rest of the house. A long heavy sigh leaves your chest, raising your head to face her.

She’s wearing a short sleeve cropped shirt that’s nearly see through, a black sports bra underneath, black cargo pants that are a little too big for her, and some white sneakers. Giving a little spin to show her outfit, but all you can focus on is the bold lines that shows through her shirt and exposed on her lower back.

You swallow roughly, standing up and attempting to explain yourself and apologize.

“I am so sorry, Sana. I do not know what came over me, I should’ve knocked or texted you or something instead of just walking right into your space and then not leaving immediately when I saw you were…unclothed” not wanting to bring attention to the fact that she was naked. So uncomfortable with the idea of violating a good friend's boundaries that you could barely even make eye contact with her.

Sana is smiling at you in an endearing way, placing a finger under your chin and tilting your head up to force you to look her directly in the eye.

“Y/n…it’s completely okay. It was only a matter of time, okay?”

Only a matter of time?!

“What do you mean by that?” regrettably leaving your mouth before you could even question the thought.

“Maybe I’ll show you after lunch.” winking and grabbing her keys before ushering you out the front door, giving no time to question what she had just been spoken so nonchalantly.

Pushing you playfully to the car, opening the passenger side door, and motioning for you to get in. Baffled by what is happening currently, you can’t imagine why she would say what she did…unless?

Unless she actually meant it…peering over to her, watching her carefully put the key into the ignition, pull the car out of park and speed off down the road.

“We are going to go to that Italian place down the road, I’m feeling like pasta today! Is that okay?” still peeking at her, you forget to respond entirely. Distracted by the sentence that plays back in your head over and over and over again, causing a slight ache between your legs.

“Y/n? Are you there?” reaching over to lay her hand on your upper thigh, lightly tapping to try and get you to pay attention to what she was saying. The tap causes you to clench your thighs together, holding your breath as a devious smile appears on sana’s face.

“Too distracted? What’s on your mind?” knowing full well she already knew the answer to what was occupying your thoughts.

Flashes of those details on the cherry blossom petals and the dragon's teeth cascade through your mind, you know what? Fuck it.

Finally exhaling and beginning to breathe regularly again, you shift back in your seat and mutter “I saw you naked once and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

A little surprised by your boldness, that was not the version of you she was familiar with, sunglasses slid to the end of her nose as she raised her eyebrows at you.

“Let’s discuss over lunch, hm? I’m interested in the thoughts you’re having.” sultry tone coating you in absolute need for her.

“Maybe I’ll show you after lunch?” oh my god, why did you say that?

A snide chuckle knocks on the windows of the sedan as she pulls up to the restaurant.

“Playing my own game against me?” sultry tone still present with half lidded eyes, leaning over the center console to get closer to your face.

“How am I doing?” leaning towards her, almost mocking her movements, even playfully, she takes it as a challenge.

Smirk, a hum, and a tongue in cheek as she picks up her phone and makes a call. You’re confused until she speaks.

“Hello, I would like to play a to go order please.”

She’s calling the restaurant you were parked out in front of...I guess we will be dining in today.

—

Food in hand, you walk back into the house you left about 20 minutes ago, Sana throwing her bag and keys on the counter as you place the food down. Having no moments to register what’s about to happen, she places her hands on either side of you, trapping you against the counter.

“What were you going to show me?” lowly reveals itself from her throat, inching closer to your face, somewhat teasing you and attempting to ignite the tension that had been building since you were caught admiring her shamelessly.

Sana’s hands travel up your sides under your shirt, you’re stoic in all of this. Waiting for the opportunity to show her exactly what you meant as she continues you softly run her nails down your ribcage.

Goosebumps pepper your skin as you throw your arm around her waist to hold her tightly against you. Skin warm on yours while your forearm locks her into place, bringing your face so close to hers, mouths almost touching, her lips chasing yours in an act of desperation.

“Tell me what you want,” whispered into her mouth, eye contact all consuming, completely converting your mind from slightly nervous to absolutely lust drive.

Sana watches how you change, the shift in dynamic between the two of you tenses the air even further. Though she was the instigator, she was no longer in control and she knew that.

“I think you know what I want.” lips moving closer to yours before you pull back again, making her a little annoyed that you keep making her work for it.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Satang.” a warning disguised as playful banter. Neither of you had ever experienced each other in this way before, even if it felt natural to hold Sana so close to you.

Chuckling at your statement, she’s having a hard time taking you seriously. The friend version of you sits in her mind's eye. Always so sweet and caring, she assumed that carried over into the bedroom too.

“Oh, are you a top? Well you’ll have to fight me for that. I’ve waited too long for this…I’m not going to give up control so easily.” big brown eyes blinking at you, almost challenging you, pushing you a little farther off the edge.

“Safe word?” coldly uttered as your pointer finger trails up her stomach to the neck of her shirt.

“Do we need one?” head cocked to the side. She truly has no clue what’s about to come.

“Hmm…let’s go with colors instead. Stoplight style.” smirking at you, eyes full of lust and curiosity waiting for you to make your move.

“Deal.” Hand maneuvering from the neck of her shirt to her actual neck, the soft sweet human she knew was no longer present in this. Almost predatory in your movements as you lightly pulled her to her bedroom.

—

“You’re going to listen to every word I say, understand?” ice shards spewing around your words before throwing her onto her bed.

She looks confused by this, never expecting the sweet anxious Y/n to be so…dominant. It tastes like a daydream she’s had continuously since she’s met you.

“And if I don't? What happens then?” curiously inquiring about your plans, testing the waters to see if being a brat was something you wanted.

Glaring down at her, ignoring the question, you simply had one instruction for her.

“Strip.”

Sana hesitates, another push, intrigued by the demeanor you’ve presented to her. It’s just so unexpected, you’re usually so docile and reserved about sexual things. This is what she dreamed of most nights, unable to grasp that it was coming true before her eyes.

“Now.” taking a seat in the chair in the corner to watch the show you insisted she put on.

Sana stands up, sauntering over to you while grabbing the hem of her shirt and peeling it from her body. She slowly turns around, removing her sports bra in the process, dragon tattoo on full display, making sure to slowly slide her pants and underwear down to her ankles before kicking them to the side.

Refusing to pull your eyes from her body as you take in the ink and curves. Her skin is silky smooth, a perfect ass you just wanted to take a bite out of, and not a single mark on her to tell the world who she now belonged to.

“Turn around.” rotating to face you, she takes a few steps forward and leans down, placing her hands on the arms of the chair and invading your space again.

“Demanding, aren’t we? Especially since you were the one who came into my room unannounced” standing up straight and walking over to the bed. Her ass on the edge leaning back on her hands, legs spread apart in front of you. She is leaving nothing to the imagination.

Jaw tensing at the new view you had, practically ripping your shirt off before leaning back into the chair again. Unable to keep your eyes off of hers as she continued on in that low tone that nearly made you rabid.

“Were you expecting to see me like this? Sprawled out on the bed for you? I’ve thought about inviting you over, just to give you a show like this.” one hand raises up and you know exactly where it’s headed.

“Stop.” eye contact maintained as she halts in her tracks, surprised you said anything.

You stand and walk over to her, removing your bra and pants along the way.

“Don’t touch what’s mine.” growled at her before roughly cupping her face and bombarding her with a fiery kiss, tongues intertwining, her hands wandering up to you as she tries to flip you onto your back.

Grabbing her hands, locking your fingers in hers, and pinning her to the mattress. She lightly whimpers into your mouth causing your knees to buckle. Feeling her lips curve up before she uses a leg to literally sweep you off your feet. Your knees hitting the ground roughly, causing you to wince, squeezing her hands tightly and pulling her forward with you.

“How can you expect to be the dominant one from the floor? I thought you were actually going to put me in my place…such a shame.” glowering at you from above.

“You wanted a fight didn’t you?” jumping to your feet, pushing her onto her back, rolling her over harshly, inciting a giggle of excitement out of her.

Cocking your arm back, you smack her ass roughly, watching her flesh ripple underneath your touch, only to lay another immediately after. Hearing her suck air through her teeth as you lay another handprint to the canvas.

“Color?” cuts through the sound of Sana panting, admiring the red welts left behind and watching a string of slick drip from her.

“Green…so so green” between breaths.

Expressing amusement at her enthusiasm with a dark chuckle, you apply one more solid smack to her before placing a kiss at the bottom of her spine, confusingly soft in your touches and light pecks up her spine, over the line beautiful line work, across every cherry blossom petal and up to her neck.

Sana breathing heavily underneath you with your tits pressed firmly against her back to hold her in place to avoid her squirming, you take a second to appreciate the position you found yourself in, and how absolutely drenched you were for her.

Your right hand follows the curvature of her hips wrapping around her and sliding down between her legs. She groans before you even touch her.

“Awhh, baby’s all worked up, hm? How long have you been dreaming about what I would feel like between your legs?” dragging your middle finger lightly over her dripping cunt to gather a little wetness before coasting over her clit a few times, just to rile her up a little more.

The bed muffling her whines, you grab a hand full of her hair and pull it towards you, forcing her head back to allow the honeyed moans to drench the room in their sickly sweet stickiness.

Sounds reverberating through her body, causing a reaction in yours, solidifying the ruination of your underwear. Sana’s hips start rocking back and forth in the rhythm of you set with your hand so you still your movements and let her fuck herself on your hand.

“Awh, look how desperate you are for me. Grinding into my hand to feel something? How pitiful. You might as well beg.”

Sana squeals in frustration, grinding down into you harder as you watch her pathetically try to earn some sense of pleasure, tail of the tattoo snapping with her subtle movements. It’s like watching a scene unfold.

Removing your hand suddenly brings her even more anger, rolling over, forcing you onto your back with the movement and quickly finding her seat on your abdomen, slick warm against your skin. Your breath hitching silently so she can’t see how weak she has you.

“Why can’t you just fuck me like I want you too? Have to make it about teasing me?! I obviously fucking want you so why won’t you just take what’s yours?” almost maliciously spat at you, her hands dragging down your chest and brushing over your nipples. You're clenching around nothing as Sana touches your body, trying to tease you back.

You’ve had enough of her trying to be the dominant one, even if it’s only for a second. You sit up, halfway getting in her face, foreheads pressed together and noses brushing, her arms instinctively wrap around your neck.

“I don’t need you to tell me what to do…color?” Wrestling her onto her back again before she has more time to protest.

“Green,” moaned back to you, her eyes half-lidded, screaming fuck me through the tension. Lowly growling as you press your lips together, urgently trying to absorb as much of her as possible.

Making your way to her neck, you bite down viscously. She moans your name into your skin as you refuse to let go of her. You’re practically dripping onto her as she rakes her nails cruelly down your back, causing you to whimper into her.

“Fuck baby, I need you.” hoarsely stated, shaky hands tug at your waistband, trying to pull them off, moving . You’re inclined to help her remove them from your frame, finally unlatching from her neck and giving her just enough leverage to slide them off you.

“Let me feel you, baby. I’ve waited so long- need to feel you.” running her hands up your thighs, grazing over your slick covered skin until she reaches your core. Her finger glides past your clit a couple times causing you to almost get carried away grinding into her, before you snatch her hand away from you.

“Who’s the desperate one now?” Spat at you as your slick drips down her fingers slowly.

“It’s still you.” guiding her hand down to her own pussy, letting her smear your cum onto her. A loud wail leaves her mouth, feeling the warmth from your wetness against her, unable to stop herself from shoving her fingers inside.

Grabbing her cheeks, forcing her lips to pucker and making eye contact, you utter one single word that halts her in her tracks. “No.”

You remove her hand for her knowing she wasn’t going to do it herself. Whimpering at the lack of something inside of her, she’s reduced to just a begging mess for you. Your little whiney play thing.

“Pleaseeee, I’ve been so good.” rocking her hips, the attempt to feel something overpowers her need to be the little brat she was attempting to portray.

Smirking at her, you lean in to kiss her again. She’s melting into you, exactly where you want her to be. So desperate for you. Your hand wraps around her throat again, squeezing lightly before your fingers descend her torso, scratching along the way, and stopping right above her slit.

“Begging looks good on you. Are you sure you’re needy enough? Maybe I’ll make you wait all day…maybe I’ll make you wait all week, actually. I think you look too good like this…” sharply spat into her mouth as her brows furrow. The whiny little whore beneath you squirming, writhing for your touch, bucking her hips up.

“Maybe it’s because you can’t make me cum.” the whiney tone contradicts the words hissed, neediness has taken over and now she’s just trying to make you fuck her.

A smack on her cunt, followed by a loud shriek fills the room, her juices coating your hand and splatter against her thighs and yours.

“Try again” straight faced, despite how badly you want her, how badly you crave the way she tastes. She doesn’t need to know how close you are to fully devouring her.

“Unghh…fuck, please y/n. Please fuck me! I’m so fucking desperate for you. Want to cum for you. Fuck please please please.” tears brimming at how badly Sana aches for you. The knot building in your stomach pulls at all your senses, this was just as bad for you as it was for her.

“So pathetic…color?” gripping her hips tightly before getting on your knees, pulling her forward just a little bit and resting her legs on your shoulders.

“Gre-eeen…oh, shit.” stuttered as the warmth of your breath radiates up her thighs

The sounds she's making could make anyone weak for her. Yelping and arching her back, rutting her hips forward for more contact, the lustful whimpers begging you to use her in a way that you never thought you would.

“Look at me.”demanded before laying a long, slow, tantalizing lick from her entrance to her clit that has her unable to keep still, she’s absolutely rabid.

“More, please…fuc- I’ll do anything, just please…” almost weeping, running her fingers through your hair, gripping tightly and attempting to pull you closer to where she needed you the most. Putting your tongue out in preparation; you knew she was going to try to do this.

Allowing her to use your face for mere seconds, you force her hips down onto the mattress and give her another slow long lick. Taking back the control you allowed her to have and driving her insane all in one swift motion.

Hair completely all over the place, face red, and half lidded watery eyes look down at you, a single tear, reflecting your diligence in working her up, sluggishly plummets down her features before hitting the bedding with a thick thwap.

You mewl into her, securing your lips around her clit before running your tongue over it incessantly. She’s already close, body tensing under you, unable to keep still as you overstimulate her. You spent all this time working her up just for this moment where she would absolutely crumble for you.

“Fuck fuck fuck” followed by another string of unintelligible sounds solicited from her mouth. Immediately adding 2 fingers into her with no intention of taking it easy on her, immediately pumping at full speed just to watch her fall apart for you.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Screamed out into the negative space of the room as Sana came around your fingers. Her silky smooth thighs tighten around your head, one hand grasping at sheets the other tugging your hair as you keep lapping at her aggressively.

“Fuck…wait wait…I’m gonna- oh my god” already hitting another stride of pleasure.

Pressing up into her roughly, the sound of her pussy crying for you makes you want to shatter her. Sucking, licking, and sliding a third finger into her, Sana falls apart around you again. Shaking violently as you hold her down against the sheets, tears running down her face as a flash of heat dances across her entire body in pure ecstasy.

Breathing heavily and sitting up, she grabs a fist full of your hair with one hand and leans back onto the other. Bucking her hips into your tongue wildly, panting and moaning loudly without a single care in the world.

Firmly holding your head in place, smearing her cum along your tongue and lips, completely lost in pleasure as she fucks your face in an attempt to push herself over the edge another time.

Letting her have her moment, you left your tongue out for her to use. Slurping every drop of her as she rides your mouth. Her pants are getting faster, body tensing again, moans being cut off by curses. She’s completely lost in her own pleasure when she finally manages to formulate a short and simple sentence..

“Good girl”

Ripping her off of you before she can fully finish using you. The frustration behind her eyes seers into you like a brand, eyes carving into your skin as you start sifting through nightstand drawers.

“Where is it?” almost shouted at her, trying to quickly locate the last thing you needed to prove the point that you were in charge. She knows exactly what you’re looking for, huffing over your question and pointing to the bottom drawer of the dresser across the room.

Quickly stepping over and finding it, the 8 inch strap heavy as you fix it around your hips, balance feeling almost off as you bring your attention back to Sana who is still rocking her hips and whimpering. Just where you want her.

“Flip over…color?” You’re practically leaking down your thighs and she fixes herself, ass up for you. Her back arched, face in the mattress and massive tattoo on full display as she taunts you by wiggling her ass against you.

“Fucking green…Fuck me, please! Need you inside so so so bad.” desperation weighs heavy in her voice and only grows worse as you grind the strap against her clit, teasing her even further. How far could you push her?

Smacking her sensitive little clit with the silicone a few times, building it up even further than you needed, just to see how she would react.

The sounds coming out of her are so pitiful, whining incoherently for you.

“You want it, Hm?” teasing the tip at the entrance before running it over her slit one last time. Pressing the head into her entrance, only the head.

“I’d bet you’ve dreamed about this moment.” removing the tip to watch her clench before gliding it back in painfully slow. Sana is just nodding her head and making sounds that could only be described as painfully needy.

“Dreamed about what it would be like for me to slam into you?” rapidly bottoming out into her, touching her cervix and staying in place.

“Does the little slut want to cockwarm my strap while I mark all over this tattoo? Let the world know who you belong to? Hm?” brutally sinking your teeth into the line work of the dragon that graced her back.

Reeling your hips back slowly, torturously staying with half the tip in, waiting to re-sheath it and leaving it buried inside of Minatozaki Sana. Just where it belonged, inside your perfect little toy and she couldn’t be any more feral for it. Trying to push back into you to feel something, even if it was just to feel full.

Finding a place on the other shoulder to bite down on, railing into her again. Creating a slow building rhythm that harmonizes with the symphony ejecting from Sana’s perfect lips. Like a crescendo building higher and higher as you slam into, getting faster in every thrust.

A scream, the snap of a knot, another belligerent bite down, and a continuous pace that wasn’t going to stop until she was unable to hold herself up, creating a whirlwind of heat and passion. Dragon tattoo on her waving into the waves the both of you created, Sana slamming back into you with your hands on her hip, pulling down and creating leverage for yourself.

It didn’t take long for her legs to give out, fully spasming into the bedding, gasping for air when you finally let go of the flesh on her back, tasting a mixture of her and iron on your tongue, licking the wound before laying sweet kisses on her back and neck.

Carefully removing the strap from her, she moans at the loss of what filled her. You watch her muscles contract and laugh to yourself as you remove the leather off your hips and crawl up next to her.

Sana’s still laying stomach down horizontally across the bed, breathing heavily with her eyes closed. Tapping her shoulder, you lift an arm and offer for her to cozy up with you and she is happy to take it.

Arms and legs wrapped around each other, dragging the tips of your fingers over the bite marks and ink, you can’t help but ponder when she got the tattoo.

“Can I ask you something?” whispered to her, not willing to remove any comfort that she currently had from her grasp.

“Mhm.” hummed back at you in pure exhaustion, you can feel her body relaxing onto yours- she’s about to fall asleep.

‘Why did you go for a back tattoo? Out of all the tattoos I thought you could get, a very large dragon was not on my list.” chuckling as you spoke, watching the coy smile form on her face through a sleep filled haze.

“I wanted to give you something to look at.”

[floswife]

SORE LOSER - T.N X READER

Pairing: Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Theodore and Y/n learn how to better focus their hate for each other

Warnings: SMUT, oral, dubcon..?

Author’s notes: this is my first time writing smut so I honestly apologise for how inevitably bad this will be 💀

Y/n didn’t know what it was about seeing the anger flash before Theo’s eyes when she’d taunt him, but it honestly was her main motivation when competing against him.

Like now in this quidditch match as she threw the quaffle threw the goal hoops once more, she had to turn to look at Theo for a split second just for the sake of rubbing salt into the wound. She would like to lie and say she was ashamed of her pettiness but what’s the point in that?

She had been out to get him ever since he made her cauldron explode in potions, which prompted Snape to hate her even more than he usually did with Gryffindors. Which was quite a feat, she wasn’t on a Harry Potter level of hatred but on the other hand Snape didn’t have a perpetual hard on for her mother either so that probably helped her too.

In hindsight it was a petty reason to name someone your sworn enemy, but his smug smile when he saw her turn to glare at him was enough to set her eleven year old brain off. Plus she just really liked being a hater for no reason.

After successfully winning the game she went over to Theo who was leaning against the wall, looking like a kicked puppy, she couldn’t lie, seeing him like that really did numbers on her but she wasn’t about to let that get in the way of her favourite thing to do with Theo, gloat.

“How does it feel to lose yet again, Nott?” She called out cheerily, the broad grin he loved hated so much painted across her face.

He groaned in annoyance at the sound of her voice, “leave me alone, l/n, I’m not in the mood.”

He had always been a sore loser, she laughed in amusement “or what? I’m sorry but the last I checked you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Theo glared at her as she stood in front of him, both of them still in their quidditch uniforms, he towered over her but she did well to push that thought to the back of her mind as she had been doing ever since he annoyingly hit a growth spurt in third year. She remembered how ranted about it to her friends later on, pretending to ignore her friends knowing smirks as she’d feel a rosy blush rise to her cheeks every time she had to crane her neck to meet his cold gaze.

“Why do you always have to be such a brat?” He sneered at the girl.

“Oh I’m the brat? I’m not the one sulking like a child because I lost a match.” Y/n’s continuous retorts just made him snap.

He grabbed her wrist and yanked her to follow after him, practically dragging her, and took her under the quidditch stands.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She rubbed her wrist in annoyance at his harsh grip.

“I’m gonna teach you how to shut up.” He pushed her down to her knees and she looked up at him in shock, she looked forward and saw the prominent tent in his trousers, “now be a good girl and listen to me for once.” His voice was slightly whiny as he said that, like he was begging her.

Y/n gulped, really beginning to question her morals, but all her internal monologue silenced when he unzipped his trousers and freed his member from its constraints with a throaty groan, wetness pooled between her legs at the sound and just the sight of his pretty cock. Merlin he was big.

He rubbed the tip along her lips, the salty taste of his precum invaded her tastebuds.

“Open your mouth and put that mouth to good use.” He demanded, she did as she was told and tentatively kitten licked the tip, he threw his head back in satisfaction and let out a whimper? She then wrapped her mouth around his tip and sucked.

He moaned her name out even louder, making her moan around his cock at the sound, she took as much of him down her throat as possible, she gagged when he hit the back of her throat but she powered through, bobbing her head up and down and using her hand to pump at the parts of his shaft that couldn’t fit in her mouth.

“Fuck! Just like that. Taking me so well.”

He was groaning loudly, and she suddenly gained awareness that they weren’t exactly in the most private of places, she tried to pull away to tell him to shut up but he just wrapped a hand in her hair and pushed her back down, he began thrusting his hips and fucked her mouth, tears ran down her cheeks and saliva dribbled out the corners of her mouth as he used her as he pleased. The thought of how blatantly he was using her as just an object couldn’t help but arouse her.

“Being such a good girl for me.”

He held her head down on his cock and she struggled to breath, he twitched before releasing down her throat, he pulled out and tapped her cheek, “swallow.”

He tucked himself away and she got up and stuck out her tongue to show him she swallowed.

He now smirked, “it wasn’t that hard to listen now was it?”

Y/n was still in a haze as she tried to compose herself and have the decency to at least pretend to be embarrassed and tried to pull away but he firmly placed his hands on her hips and pulled her right back against him again, “Shut up, Nott.”

He raised his brows teasingly and she couldn’t help but grow frustrated at how he had switched the tables on her so quickly when she was so clearly set up for a win.

“That’s not how someone who just had my cock down my throat should be speaking, now is it?” His voice was mocking, condescending.

She get that familiar heat pool between her thighs once more and she remained speechless, he smirked.

“Such a shame, you were gonna get a reward for being such a good girl.”

She tried to gain her composure as she scoffed, “like I’d want it.” She really did want it

He leaned in, that stupid lazy smirk on his lips again, “so you’re not soaked right now?”

Her eyes widened and he then inched his hand from her hip to under her waistband, as soon as his fingers touched her wetness that had completely soaked through her panties she moaned lightly, her eyes rolling back at the contact she was yearning this whole time.

“Theo!” She gasped.

He pulled his fingers away just as quickly as it came he pulled his finger and he brought it to his lips to suck her juices clean from it and he hummed, “so sweet.. on second thought, let’s continue this tonight, room of requirements?”

“What-“

And just like that he left her there, needy for his touch.

She really did hate him.

But he was so hot.

Looks like she had plans for the night.

Part two?

[meet-you-at-the-north-star]

Let Me In

Eric Northman x human! Reader

Summary: inspired by scenes from ep. 3x02 & 3x03 as well as a couple other plot points in the show (but plot is quite vague anyway)

Word count: 1517

“You’re going to invite me in” he stated, slowly, in that gentle purr his voice always sounded to my ears.

I took a step back, partially to hide the jolt that went through my body at those words. “And why would I do that?”

I wondered if he could sense the change in pace of my palpitations. They were yet to invent a way to disguise that from a vampire's super hearing.

“So I can protect you” He took a step forward. Then another, equally measured. “Or have passionate primal sex with you”.

When my hands touched the wood of the door behind me he stopped, slightly tilting his head: “Possibly both”

I gulped. I didn’t even realize that I had been backing away.

“You’re not gonna distract me by talking nasty” I said, perfectly aware that I was the one trying to distract him from the effect he was having on me.

He smirked, leaning down and invading even more of my personal space. “I already have”.

“So…are you going to invite me in?”

“That’s not how it works” I scolded him, a warning look on my face.

“Pity” He leaned back. “As soon as you let me know what the rules are, I’ll be more than happy to play along”

I stared at him for a moment, different streams of thoughts racing through my brain. “Do you really think something might happen to me tonight?”

“There’s a good chance it might. Tonight, the night after that, it doesn’t make much of a difference. I’d rather be safe than sorry” He cut short.

“Alright. I am going to invite you in…” I began, placing my hand on his chest to stop him from taking another step forward. ��If you promise not to cross this threshold and to leave me alone the minute I do.”

“Well, that’s no fun”

“Eric.”

He nodded. “I promise. If that’s what you want”

“It is” I lied, but he didn’t need to know that. “You will be able to sense it if I’m in some kind of trouble, right?”

“Correct.”

“Good. Then you’re officially invited to come inside, Eric Northman…if I should need your help” I specified in an eloquent tone.

“Thank you.” His hand reached out to move a strand of hair behind my ear, with a tenderness that was as unexpected as disarming coming from someone like him.

I struggled to fight back the instinct to immediately take back everything I had just said, but I couldn't help but at least smile at him.

He smiled back at me and pulled his hand away. “Goodnight, Y/N”


A moment later he had literally vanished into thin air.

I closed the door behind me with a sigh, my heart now beating wildly. Sleeping was going to be no easy feat after all that.

I tried to prepare myself calmly, retracing all the steps of my usual nighttime routine in order to banish any kind of thoughts from my mind, both the positive and the negative.

When I finally got into bed, however, it was impossible to avoid those piercing blue eyes and features so beautiful they didn't seem real, which had so often populated my recent dreams.

Even though he had cheated by giving me his blood, a part of me couldn't help but think I would have dreamed of him regardless. After all, my daydreams were much the same way.

Eric’s eyes were my last conscious thought, then only darkness. And the sound of steps. Some kind of creature was approaching me. I could hear its menacing growl clearly now. I started running as fast as I could, but it seemed like the noise was only getting louder and more frightening. I turned a dark corner and my heart dropped realizing there was no way out of it. It was a dead-end. Then all of a sudden the floor opened up under my feet and I fell into an endless dark pit.

I let out a scream so loud I must have woken myself up. I felt cold arms holding me and instinctively fought to free myself from their grip, still screaming. Did the creature that was following me finally catch me?

“Hey” Two hands were cradling my face in an instant, gently. “it’s okay, it’s me, you’re alright”

I blinked once, twice and finally the fog clouding my brain started to dissipate as I found myself back in my room, staring into those blue eyes again. But this time I was only not seeing them with my mind. Usually impenetrable, they now betrayed concern as they studied my expression intently.

“What are you doing here?” I managed to utter in the end.

He looked a little uncomfortable, as if he was afraid I might be mad at him. “I sensed your fear”

It finally hit me: the chase, the panic I felt, it was all a dream. But he couldn’t tell the difference and thought I was actually in danger. I felt a blush quickly rising to color my cheeks and I rested my head against his chest to hide my embarrassment. “Oh my god, it was a stupid nightmare”

His arms slid up and down my back, holding me close in a protective grip. “It’s definitely quite a relief”

“I’m sorry you had to come all the way here for that”

“I’m not” he said, a half-smirk curving his lips.

“Eric” I leaned back and looked up at his face, trying to recover some sense of distance between us, but we were too close this time. And there was no invisible magical barrier I could cross.

He understood what I needed, slightly loosening the grip of his arms to allow me freedom of movement, but his eyes remained locked in mine. “Do you want me to go?”

I opened my mouth to respond but not a word came out. I ran a hand through my hair nervously, eyes darting everywhere until his hand came up to gently cup my chin, forcing me to bring my attention back to him.

My eyes dropped to his lips. They looked even redder in contrast to his unnaturally pale skin.

He didn’t move, waiting, while my brain performed somersaults to find any valid excuse why I shouldn’t let this happen.

It couldn’t.

I had about half a second to be surprised at my own impetuousness as I crashed my lips against his, then my mind went blank.

My hands quickly travelled up his neck and tangled in his hair, pulling him to me as our mouths explored each other, greedy and eager.

I felt the blood rushing through my veins and speeding up my heartbeat until it was a loud pounding in my ears. I should have been frightened by how vulnerable that probably made me in his presence, but I wasn’t.

I wasn’t afraid of him or this in the slightest, everything about it felt too right. The feeling of his arms surrounding me again in secure hold, his hands gripping my shoulders and then cradling my face, his lips hungry, relentlessly pressing on mine in a silent request for access.

My mouth parted with a sigh, allowing his tongue to slip inside, deepening the kiss. Our bodies were flush against one another and in the blink of an eye he’d pulled me onto his lap and my hands moved to his shoulders to regain my balance, lips still locked together in a restless dance.

“Hey!” I jokingly protested, finally parting for air after what felt like a two-hour apnea. “Some of us here still need to breathe”

“Mmm, you know that’s something I can easily remedy” He grinned, lips teasingly trailing up my neck and leaving nothing but small kisses behind.

“Don’t even think about that”

“What a shame” His eyes found mine again, thumb lightly stroking my cheek. “You’d make a stunning vampire”

I simply smiled at that, leaning down to capture his lips again. The kiss was slower this time, less frantic; but languid, our lips slowly taking their time to savor each other.

I felt him grin into the kiss as my hands moved in the small space between our bodies and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Wait a minute” I abruptly stopped and shot him a worried look. “You can’t stay here”

He raised both eyebrows in disbelief. “You cannot be serious right now”

“No, I mean…what about the sun?”

He burst into a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Good thing you people have invented blinds”

“True, guess humans aren’t all that bad, uh? ” I smirked.

“They have their moments” He conceded, looking at me.“But you do realize” he began, tone dropping suggestively, “that means I’m going to be stuck in this room for the entire day, right?”

I bit my bottom lip and shamelessly let my eyes wander over his messy hair and the half-unbottoned shirt on his chest, drinking it all in: he was one to talk about “stunning”. Then I brought my lips close to his ear: “I’m sure I can think of a way to keep you occupied”

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Motivation

(Part 2)

—

Time Written- 10:23 p.m.

I wrote this 3 times and gave up. Severely gave up

—

“Wakey Wakey, sweetheart.” His lightly exhausted tone nearly roused your eyes open.

A faint click of a bedside lamp invades the silence shortly before Jason shuffles out of bed, displaying a warm glow to your light sensitive vision.

A small groan falls from your mouth, your eyes shutting closed in irritation from the distraction of your comfort. His arms left their sanctuary around your waist, a kiss of warmth remaining along your tummy before he readjusted a soft, thin blanket over your tired body.

Jason was considerate enough to turn off his alarm nearly three minutes before it goes off, saving his special girl a few minutes of precious sleep. As the midsummer sun dies down behind fluffy clouds, golden rays of light reflecting off skyscraper glass into the dead of the night, Gotham’s wild crowds creep out from their crooked caverns to play.

“Hey mama. Sorry to ruin the fun, but I think my arm ran out of blood flow.”

“Do you need it?” Your faint, croaked rumble spews from your barely moving lips.

“I mean, I suppose I’ll need it to fight an’ aim guns at unlucky bastards. Guess that means you gotta lose the pillow.”

Another groan leaves your lips before reluctantly raising your head, setting his arm free from its prison. You spent a minute of quiet suffering before Jason’s fingers cupped your head, guiding you to raise it just enough to slip a fluffy pillow to settle your pretty brain on.

The A/C was on full blast, the blank noise lulling your tired minds to sleep around seven. While it was counterintuitive to be snuggling together in this hot summer heat, you wanted nothing more than to be in his company, comfortable in his safety.

Bare feet shuffling along hard foot floor shifts to heavy rubber soles as Jason gets dressed. Soft cotton and polyester drops to the ground, replaced with tactical fabrics and scrunching leather. A short sonnet of clicks and snaps follow as he adjusts his belt and holsters, getting everything comfortably situated on his person.

“You’re not angry with me, are ya?” He clicks his tongue, fighting off a smile at your lack of response.

“Earth to Goddess.” His calm voice invades your ears as the floor creaks, the dressed vigilante shuffling to his knees beside the bed, settling close to your face.

“Princess.” Jason lightly chimes, brushing your cheek with the back of his pointer finger.

He then proceeds his ever loving assault via planting various kisses along your face, ranging from your cheek up towards your forehead, back down to your nose.

“Babygirl.” He cooes against your sweet smelling hair.

“Do you have to go now?” Came your eventual, irritated whine.

He leans forward, mattress gently creaking as he pressed his lips just under your ear for a quick kiss. “Not yet. You got me for five more minutes.”

Jason settles his head on your collarbone, your nose slightly tickled from locks of soft, dark hair. His eyes are closed, but for once, they’re content with peacefulness. That, and the events that would come within the next month, changing their lives forever.

Jason’s smile widens as your fingers mindlessly trails random shapes along his open palm, your hands always lingering somewhere along his body.

“Y’know I’d give just about anything to get back in bed with you,” his armored chest rumbles with his lowly spoken words. “But, I’m a little big in this get up to be this close to you at the moment. Don’t wanna crush you.”

Those sudden words couldn’t help but make you smile, scoffing just a bit. Ever the doting, overly concerned, slightly overdramatized, loving man he is.

“I don’t know who’s bigger right now,” your exhaustion let you speak in ghostly whispers. “You, or me.”

“Well, you’re the pregnant one,” he says, fighting off a strong, snarky remark with an amused smirk. “So, you definitely take the win with that.”

The look you gave him the second your eyes snapped open made him chuckle, as if he willfully insulted you. The irony of it, considering he was around 6’4 and 250 pounds, a large percent being complete muscle mass while you carried a seven pound baby.

“Kidding, babe. Kidding,” he soothes, trailing a few fingers along your swollen tummy just over the blanket. “Just trying to joke off the nerves. Doesn’t help that it’s my first time…”

“It better be your first time,” you mutter under your breath.

“Yeah yeah, It is. Don’t worry.” Jason’s voice is soft, his cheeks turning a light shade of red at that, and he can’t help but smile as the two of them laugh quietly at her joke.

The weight of their child is a constant pressure on your body to create an incredible miracle. It’s certainly something new, he always wants to make sure his little mama is happy and healthy. Mostly happy.

He trails a finger down your stomach, pausing when he feels a faint thud near the round lower edge of his palm. For eight months teetering on the edge of nine, the baby was definitely getting active.

“Think your boy’s getting ready to fight those unlucky bastards with you.” You lightly chide with a small grin.

“Language, mama,” Jason retorts, flicking some wisps of hair away from your head. “Don’t want ‘em to hear those foul words. An’ I’m not in the market for sidekicks.”

You frown again, scoffing at his hypocrisy.

The surrealism was intense, affecting him from the center of his brain towards the tips of his hands and toes.

Your boy, his boy. His son.

“You two keep the bed warm for me.” Jason murmurs before pressing a few goodbye kisses along your cheek. “I’ll come back with breakfast when you wake up, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, consciousness struggling to remain afloat. It’s a silly mental image; the reaction of the owners of an early bird, go-to diner frantically scrambling out of shock and awe when Red Hood himself enters their establishment.

He stands from the floor, lovingly glancing down at his beautiful, pregnant woman cradled in bed, nestled with his pillow, perfectly content.

“Be safe,” you whisper to him, watching him reach towards the lamp to shut it off. The warmth of the vanished lap changing his eyes from a strong emerald green back towards a crisp, steel-cut teal.

“I love you.”

Your voice always sweetened the deal, a perfect lullaby once it was his turn to sleep.

The perfect motivation for him to look forward to every morning.

“Love you too, mama.”

[lethalchiralium]

I Will Think Of You As I Surely Drown | Happiness Series

a/n: a huge thank you to my lovely editor, @as-is-above-so-below

warnings: mentions of trauma, therapy

summary: Healing is a journey and you're finding your footing on what seems to be a frozen lake, while Simon deals with what it means to break promises.

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When you woke up in the hospital, you felt frozen. Time moved around you, things happened quickly, and words were exchanged faster than currency. The IV in your arm hurt, pulsated with every heartbeat, and your hands sizzled with a faraway pain. Your head felt like a block of ice, and your belly and back pulsated with a dull ache; your throat throbbed, the air being sucked out of your lungs and forced in, and then the sight of Lloyd’s face. Or rather, what you thought was Lloyd. You couldn’t help it–he was all you saw in your head while you slept. God, how long were you sleeping? It didn’t matter, your not-so-heavy hand found the bed remote and pressed the call button more times than you could count.

The figure beside you stood quickly, ducking away from the bed and some breed of fear clawed its way out of your stomach to bash its way into your chest. The shock had left as fast as it came when a squeal escaped you, the red-hot, constricting discomfort of fear encompassing your chest. You could feel your body fighting the breathing tube in your throat, so you could take in more air, hyperventilate. Because, how could he be here? He’s dead, you killed him, his face bashed in for everything he fucking did to you and could have done to your baby and everything you–

The overhead fixture flooded the room with harsh, fluorescent light, and that’s when you could see the perpetrator - but it wasn’t him at all. In a thin sweatshirt, an old pair of sweatpants, and a heavy set of eye bags, was Simon. Not Lloyd. He was dead. It was your husband, your Simon, your protector. 

Tears fell from your eyes, and even as new bodies invaded your view, your beat-up hand reached for him instinctively. The ringing in your ears forced you to rely on your whines as the nurses tended to you, taking the breathing and feeding tubes out, and checking your pulse and blood pressure. Your eyes stayed on Simon. His face looked sunken in, hair greasy, almost plastered down to his scalp. He was paler than usual, his eyes red, hands fidgeting as he cried. Your beating heart cried out for him; the second your mouth was free from the tubes, you tried to speak, but only a broken squeak escaped. The nurse moved out of the way and he was back at your side in a second, hands hovering over where they’d usually hold your face. The heave in your chest as you cried only made him shy away more. 

I need you. I need you to hold me and tell me everything's gonna be okay.  

But he doesn’t. He had no words. Not in his heart or his brain. Nothing but sobs and kisses to your unmarred cheek, and his nose pressed into your hair. 

How your brother looked at you when Simon brought him in made tears roll faster than ever. It was a look you’ve only seen once - when you broke your arm playing soccer as an eight-year-old. It wasn’t your fault; a girl had shoved you and another trampled over you, breaking it just a few inches from your wrist. Any closer and it would’ve fucked your ability to write. Jake sprinted across the field and picked you up, telling you it would be okay, even though his eyes were full of tears that matched yours. 

He settled in a chair beside you, opposite Simon, petted your head, and wiped your tears away with his thumb. In all of your years of following him around, always worried about getting in trouble or getting hurt, nothing had ever changed - he was still your comfort, the person you trust to take care of you when you’re hurt, and you knew that he would protect you with everything he had.

That comfort did nothing to lessen the guilt that plagued you once you realized you were happier to see him than Simon. 

“Didn’t mean to be late. I didn’t know you were awake.” He rubbed the bed just parallel to your arm. “How are you?”

“She can’t talk much,” Simon spoke quietly. You looked over at him. His eyes were irritated, his hair disheveled, and he held your finger left out of the cast. At least he was saving you from having to speak, talking hurt more than you cared to admit. You couldn’t tell them how you felt, what happened, or describe the flood of broken pieces on the shore that was your mind. 

Jake hummed in acknowledgment, your eyes fell on him. “Well, I’m glad you’re awake, and that you’re okay.” The feeling of Simon’s head against your thigh was normal to you now, the crown nestled just beside your knee, and you couldn’t help but raise your hand then lay it on the back of his neck. Jake watched with a tired gaze before he spoke your name. “I’m staying to help you as long as I can. With the kids, and you. Just until you don’t need me.” 

“Price is staying too,” Simon rumbled, and your heart stung again. Something akin to anger nestled there at the mention of the captain. Not at him, but more towards Simon - all you wanted to see when staring up at that cloudy sky, wounded and bleeding, was Simon, but you got John instead. 

“Thank you.” The whisper left your lips before you looked back at the TV, desperately fighting the disappointment in Simon. Jake nodded to himself in the corner of your eye, and Simon’s chest slowed to steady breaths as he finally found sleep for the first time since you woke up. 

You wished you were little again, back when you could pretend everything was okay by just forgetting about the pain; lying about whether you cried or not. Pretending you didn’t have nightmares. Lie and pretend. Lie and pretend. 

Easier said than done.

“I don’t want to be here.”

“But, you need to be.”

“You aren’t even a normal civilian therapist. All you’re gonna do is parrot everything I say straight to Price and get Simon in trouble.”

The woman took her glasses off, then moved the plastic clipboard from her lap before she leaned forward toward you. The blanket on your lap barely did anything to keep you warm. Curled as much as you could on your wheelchair, you watched the therapist in her blouse and slacks as she examined you like an organism on a petri dish beneath a microscope. 

“This is a safe space for you. It doesn’t seem like it, but it is. Kate Laswell specifically made sure you could meet with me right away. These appointments fall under HIPPA.”

“But you’re still military. This is for their record of what happened, so they can play accountant for the money they spent to save me.”

“This is your third appointment, and you just now have an issue.”

“I’m only here because it makes Simon feel better.”

Marli - the kind, indifferent therapist - looked at you with such…you couldn’t place it. It wasn’t sympathy, it wasn’t anger or bitterness or disgust, it was…your foggy mind couldn’t produce the word. 

“You’re not here because you want to be.” A statement. A correct one, but it stung to hear. 

“No.”

“And you’ve said multiple times that you don’t want Simon to hear or read the transcripts. Or Captain Price, or Sergeant MacTavish.“

“Only Gaz. If you have to give someone the report, Gaz.” 

“Only Sergeant Garrick, because he’s not as close to Simon.” 

“He’s close, just…” You sighed. “Kyle keeps secrets just fine. Soap’s a blab and Price…I don’t want his best friends to hear what happened and tell him. I don’t even…I don’t-” Your hand moved slowly to rest on your chest, below your collarbone, and above your heart. You applied pressure there with your fingertips. A comforting touch, something to stop the pain you get in your lungs when you start to think about what happened. “I know it’s our third session, I know they were to get adjusted to you from the last girl, but today’s not the day to talk about it. It’s just not.”

She crossed her leg over her knee and adjusted the blanket on her lap, her clipboard still in her tight grasp as she leaned back in her comfortable chair. “That’s fine. We can start slow, and build up to some things. The original retelling we have from you is-”

“I am not doing that again. I’m not–I’m not telling another one of you what happened, okay? It’s not fucking happening today. I just want to sit here and answer your stupid fucking boring questions so I can pretend I’m not a victim! For one fucking hour!” Your free hand hit the armrest of your wheelchair, emphasizing your position, before you tugged your blanket up to cover more of your stomach. “I want to leave. I want Simon. Tell him to come get me, I want to go home.”

Marli sighed, nodded, and placed her blanket and clipboard on the low side table beside her. She looked at you, as you looked away from her, focusing on the small fish tank again. “You won’t be leaving a session early after this. In our next session, we will be talking about the event. Prepare yourself.”

You waved her off as you watched the blue fish slowly peck at the glass that enclosed it. 

Everything is normal in your house. In your bathroom. Your husband washed your hair and ducked out to get your clothes, but you still needed to brush your teeth.

Normal. Normal things for the Riley household. 

The sound of clicking in your subconscious seemed to scratch at a wiry pocket in your brain, digging with dirty fingernails, the itch so deep that the sensation made you nauseous. You reached for your toothbrush with your dominant hand, your bad hand, but you shook your head and grabbed it with your sore, uninjured hand. Pinky and ring finger curled, grasp so flimsy that a breeze could throw your yellow toothbrush from your palm. A sharp pain radiated in your index finger, pulsing at the same rate as the click in your head. Click, click, click, click, click. Your eyes finally fell upon your task, seeing your swollen hand; stitch holes, and jagged, healing scabs from where you shredded the top of your hand on the stone and Lloyd’s face.

Lloyd. 

Your eyes stayed open, stung with every short breath of air from the fan and tears. If you blinked, you would be back in that basement, the sound of the sink running to hide Mellie’s crying, and your screams for Lloyd to get away. 

Click, click, click, click, click. 

A short rap at the bathroom door made your head snap to the left. Your heart stammered when you saw Simon, your clothes in one hand and a worried look on his face. He wasn’t good at hiding his emotions, but he tried. You wanted to let yourself fall into the overwhelming fear, let yourself scramble away and scream until he left you alone. You wanted to scream and cry until you couldn’t anymore, like you did two days before. You wanted to wallow in silence; sit in your bathtub, press your broken cheekbone to the cool porcelain, and knees to chest until you disappeared under the lip of the tub. 

In your need for solitude and overwhelming misery, only anger answered the haunting clicking in your head. Click, click, click, and your toothbrush was thrown to the floor, tears welled in your eyes. Unwavering rage climbed out of that stringy, tangled pocket of your mind and filled your body with a buzz. Simon was quick to stay in your sight and keep his hands near himself. 

“What do you need?”

A shovel and a baseball bat. One to dig Lloyd up, and the other to beat the shit out of his fucking corpse, because he deserved more of a beating than he got. He deserved to have his skull crushed even more, messy chunks splattered across the ground like a pumpkin. Lloyd has to be rotting in Hell, that is what you need to hear. You need his face to stop morphing onto Simon’s, and stop being plastered on random faces. You need the nightmares to stop, or something to escape them. Maybe a cigarette. Or an edible. Or a bottle of tequila. Or a large bottle of wine, or three. Escape reality for just a minute, a time when you’re not bordering on a panic attack in the bathroom where you miscarried your son, or being pitied by your brother and your husband, or unable to hold your children. All you need is to tuck their heads of curls into your chest. Take the jagged pieces of yourself and hide them away from the clicks and anger, just to save them from the flood. 

You’ll have to find the words sometime. It’s easier to conjure them for a stupid therapist that you don’t know than it is to scavenge them for Simon. There’s not much to say to your husband and nothing to say to the son of your…attacker.

Attacker. Let’s go with that. 

“Honey, what do you need?”

A breath rattled your pain-wrapped chest. “A cigarette.”

He huffed a chuckle, and his left hand grabbed your sleep shirt. An old, worn shirt of his with a faded Metallica logo on the front, well-loved by him, and then you. You’ve worn it for two years, the majority of your relationship, and it’s one of your favorites. Holes in the sleeve, and threads loose at the bottom so the hem is a little fucked; you weren’t sure why, but you pushed it away. With your bruised and swollen hand, not the cast one. 

Why not the cast? You pushed everything away with it—the stuffed animals, the blankets, the physical contact from anyone but your children. Why the sudden change? Did something turn in your brain when you saw the black t-shirt, the comfort of it? Did it no longer serve its purpose as a comfort item? Your bruised hand shoved at the pants and the underwear, and your stomach finally caught up to your brain - nausea settled in your cheeks like magma. The feeling of anything on your skin felt like a death sentence, the feeling of the bathtub against naked skin sounded like a grace of the angels, and why did you keep crying when the anger seemed to disperse like mice?

None of it made sense. 

You hated the look in Simon’s eyes. The look of confusion, of worry. He doesn’t need to be confused about this. You can do what you want. You’re allowed to be angry and upset and push away clothes that make you want to puke your guts out into the sink. 

Click, click, click.

If he could stomach leaving you, abandoning you, then he’d have to stomach this too. Him not being there, having broken his promise to keep you and your children safe. 

Your eyes followed Simon as he kneeled, picked up every article of clothing, then placed them back on the sink. His eyes observed your face, your eyes, and he took a half step back. “M’gonna change Mellie. Yell f’me if you need help getting dressed.” He was gone the moment after, the bathroom door pressed into its latch with a deafening click, and you were left alone again. 

Click, click, click. 

A warm sensation started in your chest, nestled deep in your sternum and came on as suddenly as it moved around your body, enveloping you. It made you want to remember, but you could not place the sound from where-

You had observed the basement door’s lock had to be jiggled around to be unlocked. There were usually three clicks when unlocking the door, followed by the henchmen talking or Lloyd appearing at your bedside. He would sit, hand on your knee as he spoke with an even tone about your life, his intent for you and your infant. The life you’d live as a trafficked woman, and how Mellie would be sold off to a wealthy family. The way he crooned about how you’d never see Winnie or Simon again, how he constricted your body to the bed with that fucking smile and-

A thud came as you fell to your knees, a warbled cry escaping your lips as your plastered hand settled on the rim of the sink - the free fingers curled around the edge. The soft cotton of what was once your favorite shirt grazed your fingertip, and disgust roared its nasty head in your stomach. 

What do you need?

Click. 

Your shaking lungs finally freed a breath you didn’t know you were holding, as you allowed yourself to melt onto the white tile floor. You don’t remember the last time you mopped - or much of anything - but it didn’t matter. There wasn’t an inch of you now that could care about germs, about the grime growing in the corners and crevices; only about how soothing the cool surface of the tiles felt. 

Half of your forehead pressed against the floor, you exhaled, and exhaustion sunk its claws deep.

Simon returned only a couple minutes later, his warm hands covering you with the softest blanket he could find before he settled himself in the doorway. When you woke up from your nap, he planned to help you back to bed. It was easier to keep an eye on you and his babies from the threshold. Winnie was still sleeping peacefully on an air mattress, covered in blankets at the foot of his bed, and Mellie finally nestled into a corner of her pack-and-play; Simon watched her nod off before he looked back at you. 

He wanted to reach out, stroke your face, fix your hair, but he didn’t. His hand sat limply on his lap.

Coward. Coward, coward, coward.

The nightmares only get worse as the days go on. Comforting you is easy.

But comforting Mellie? If Simon were a softer man he would’ve crumbled into dust. Holding his infant as she screamed, little fists hitting his face and chest, the endless wailing - feet kicking his stomach; he was sure that if he had eaten anything yesterday, her kicking would’ve made him sick. He gently rubbed her back, his cheek against her temple as she thrashed, exhausted and scared. It made Simon want to combust. 

He hasn’t been able to get close to her in days; see her little brown eyes, button nose, her three little bottom teeth when she smiles. All he wanted was to comfort his child, but she wanted nothing to do with him.

A sudden touch to his shoulder and Simon jolted. Mellie’s cries intensified as he turned to see Price - a tired look in his eye but his arms out. That was the routine now; Mellie would wake up from a nightmare, and Simon would try to help, but ultimately hand her to Price, who offered to be their live-in aid until you and the girls got back on your feet. Simon didn’t waste a second handing his child off to her godfather, who calmed her in the time it took Simon to wipe his face and sit in the rocking chair. Anger simmered like a pot to boil, hot water scalding Simon’s body with burns he’d never heal.

He had faith in, trust, and love for his brother-in-arms. But that didn’t ease the burn of watching how easy it was for him to fix what Simon should have had the balls to. 

It was so easy for a man who had nothing to repair Simon’s broken family, the family he disassembled, and it made Simon want to throw punches at a brick wall.

He had everything and he threw it all away for the job.

He found solace in the punching bag at the base gym, wrapped hands, and a tense stance.

One, two.

One, two.

The bag swayed with every punch. No headphones this time; the gym was abnormally quiet in this corner. Everyone decided that Lieutenant Riley needed his space, especially since every rookie who even breathed near him got to clean latrines with their toothbrush. Or paint all of the gravel on base a nice, thick coat of white. There was peace in this corner - a man and a quiet sack of sand to keep him on his toes. 

One, two, a deep breath, and Simon sent another two punches, harder than the last. His eyes narrowed, balanced on the balls of his feet, core tensioned to hell, he was full of rage, guilt, and a sick feeling of shame. With every punch, his knuckles felt fire, and his soul didn’t feel any lighter. He tried to stay out of his head and punch the bag, but all he could see was his father, bloodied and on the floor after Simon’s punch put him there. One two. He could feel how punching Lloyd felt again, so hard that he thought he had broken his fingers. With every punch to the bag, he tried to figure out how you broke your hand. By a certain point, he understood. He also wanted to beat Lloyd’s face in until he couldn’t move, and wouldn’t again.

“LT.”

Simon punched the bag again. “She done?”

“Twenty more minutes.” 

“Then why the fuck are you botherin’ me?” One two.

Soap stood off to the side, hands in his pockets as he watched his friend. Simon ignored his presence briefly and threw harder punches, making the bag sway like a leaf in the wind. His stance was tense, and completely closed off; the man was ready to rip a hole in the bag. Soap approached him, but only to be in his field of vision. 

“Widen yer feet, LT.” 

“Fuck off.” One two.

“Widen yer feet. Ye'r too tense. Ye'r gonnae break yer hand.”

“This is not the time to be my fuckin’ friend, Soap.”

“Th' babies are cryin’ fur ye. So, finish up 'ere 'n'-”

The bag suddenly swung toward Soap. He pushed it back. Simon punched it again, harder, and Soap pushed it back again. 

“Brother, we’re gonnae help whether ye lik' it or nae, but th' girls want ye. And ye need nae goosed hands to take care of yer babies.”

Simon punched the bag with all his might, throwing his full weight into it. The bag hit Soap before he turned away, his fists and teeth clenched. He hustled into the locker room, grabbed his bag from the locker in the corner, and threw a sweatshirt over his sweaty t-shirt. He was prepared for Winnie to comment on his stench, for Mellie to cry the second he picked her up, and to see your full expression before he wheeled you to the car.

The therapy sessions were daily now. Jake had returned to the U.S. a couple days ago, and Simon had no one to watch the kids at home. The daycare on base was the only option. Winnie was too old for it, but he refused to let her go back to school, at least for another few days. She wasn’t ready yet. He just needed enough time for you to get on your feet, into a new normal, then Winnie could go back to school and be the social butterfly she always was.

He’s glad the daycare is nearby, he was silent when he signed out the girls, keeping Mellie close to his chest and a firm and gentle grip on Winnie’s hand. He was early, but he didn’t want to talk to Soap. He didn’t want to talk to anyone about this. The carefully wrapped bandage holding his anger together was close to ripping, the pain and shame of not being the one to protect you, to save you and Mellie was destroying him. A sick part of him didn’t want to fix it; let himself feel your pain and suffering as punishment. He was already riddled with guilt that he couldn’t protect you going forward, not from your mind; and ashamed that his teammates were living in his house, taking care of his kids while Simon focused on your care. 

He should be able to do this alone. He’d lost a lover and raised their baby alone, he’d suffered years of abuse alone, and he was sure he’d die alone too. 

Mellie’s whimpers softened when you’re wheeled out to him, her little hand reaching out for you, and you stretched to meet her. Simon placed your daughter in your lap like always, and your bruised arms wrapped around her. Winnie squeezed Simon’s hand. He looked at her, the messy ponytail and worried look on her face, and felt nothing but gut-wrenching shame in his belly.

“Let’s go, girls,” he said softly, letting go of Winnie to push your wheelchair. “We’ll pick up dinner on the way home.”

It’s the middle of the night and Simon hasn’t left your side in hours. Your fingers curled in his hair as you finally slept peacefully, his head cradled against your chest. The TV hummed with the sound of an action movie you put on for him, which he ignored in favor of laying beside you, just…being in your presence, feeling your chest expand, listening to your heartbeat. He rested his hand on your belly, hoping to feel some sort of moving from your newest addition.

That peace was all he wanted.

He hasn’t allowed himself that comfort since he sat beside you in the hospital for two weeks straight. Then, you were like crumbling paper, any unplanned touch would destroy you. 

Yet, here he was. Head on your heart, sleep nudging at his eyes – but he fought it off. He was conscious of his weight, only his shoulder and arm on you. It had taken two more weeks to get to the point where Simon could sleep with you. The air mattress fucked with his hip, but he refused to complain. Both of you danced around what happened, but he knew that what you went through was worse than he could ever imagine. He thumbed your belly as he daydreamed about the normal conversations you should be having. Names for the baby, suspicions about what the sex could be, what you wanted to do differently, what color to paint the nursery. 

He wouldn’t tell you, but he wanted another girl. He wanted to keep the nursery yellow and move his office into the basement so Mellie could have that room. He’d been eyeing a nice floor bed for her to transition to. He had so many plans, so many things he wanted to do, but he needed your approval. Craved it. Wanted you to get better, mentally and physically, so you could enjoy a pregnancy together, for the first time.

He wanted Mellie’s upcoming first birthday to be exciting for you, marking the end of your first year raising a baby. He wanted you to see Mellie without vicious memories attached, her cries whisking you away to a place in your mind that he couldn’t save you from. He wanted you to look at Winnie without fear of losing her. He wanted you to stop looking at him like he destroyed you, not his father. He wanted you to stop finding safety in Price and Alejandro and Rudy, the men who located and saved you. He wanted to be the person who rescued you; he wanted that closure, the ability to unload his magazine into his father’s head.

Simon wanted many things. Yet, he kept them in his head like all of his opinions about the situation - it’s shit. He hated seeing you and the girls in pain, and he hated Price and Laswell for keeping the kidnapping from him.

He wanted to toss and turn. He wanted to throw off the blanket, go out to the garage, and have a go with the punching bag for an hour. No gloves, no wrap; just knuckles, and canvas - sure, some tears, anything for the escape. There’s selfishness in want, craving so insatiable at times that he had to give pause. A silent moment to breathe, let his mind wander, and define his needs - you and the girls. Those were his only needs. His “wants” could fill a thousand pages, all ready to fire away with the strike of a match. 

A fingernail scraped against his scalp and a low sigh escaped his chest. His cheek nudged your chest before he mumbled, “G’back t’sleep.”

“Off.”

He was instantly detached from you, little bubbles of darkness edging his vision from the dizziness as he flipped onto his back. His arm was still settled under your back, unsure if taking it back was the right move until you let out a whine of pain, and then-

A sigh of contentment as your cheek nestled on his shoulder, good arm settled on his chest, your hand gripping his ID tags. His arm curled around your back and he kissed your hair as you grew drowsy again.

“Love you, my missus.”

A weak hum left you. “Love you, Si.”

Simon’s head dug deeper into his pillow, and his eyes fell on the TV for just a moment before they moved to you. He almost didn’t want to look, out of fear of spooking you away. Voluntary touch was nonexistent until this moment, and he didn’t want to risk its end. Simon watched the delicate movements of your chest as you breathed, the blanket still tangled in your bodies, and reveled in your cold toes pressed into the side of his calf. He kissed your hair again before his nose found residency there, and his eyes finally closed. If there was a sense of bliss to be found, it would be right there in that bedroom, with a husband holding his wife as she slept peacefully. 

“…concerning behavior from her, and we’re not quite sure what could have brought it on.” 

He gazed at his daughter’s face, the tears and snot that ran down it, and the shame that covered it. She was a Riley, facing danger head-on - she didn’t break her father’s eye contact. If he were his father, her ass would’ve been bruised the second he walked into the office. 

But he wasn’t his father. Instead, Simon’s child stood in front of him, crying, but not scared of him. She felt safe to do so, and it made Simon feel confused. He was proud yet ashamed of his child’s actions and the thought made his stomach twist. 

“We know you and your wife have had a difficult month. Winnie has been fine the last few days, but we just can’t get her to stop…”

Crying. Bursting into tears in the middle of a lesson, and hiding in the corner with the stuffed animals. 

Simon let his hand gently brush her hair from her face, her little body trembling as she cried harder. He was quick to pull her into his lap, let her tears drench his sweatshirt, and her little hands hold onto him for dear life. He kissed her hair before looking at the headmaster, softly saying, “I’ll be keeping her home for the rest of the week.”

The woman nodded. “I understand.” She waved a little at the five-year-old, “Have a good week, Ms. Winnie.”

Simon grabbed her princess backpack, put it on his free shoulder, and kept her close to his chest. He weaved through the front office, out of the building, through the front gate, and started their walk home.  Winnie’s forehead was pressed to his neck as he looked both ways on the street before he crossed, even when the crosswalk light was green. The occasional thought rattled around in his head, but nothing of substance. He bristled when the breeze whipped against her hair and his face. 

The winter was letting up, getting warmer the closer it got to Mellie’s birthday, but Simon couldn’t find cause for excitement. Not when his daughter was sobbing and whimpering on his shoulder, and not when his baby wailed so hard that she turned blue in the face, not when his wife was fighting a battle he could not see.

He is the lone light atop a rocky cliff, guiding the boats taking on water to shore. And the house that holds the light is burning to the ground.

“Daddy.”

A few more streets to cross and they’ll be home. Simon felt Winnie shiver a little, and he huddled closer to her. “Yes, duckling.”

Her teeth chattering made his heart break. Even with her warmest coat on, she was still freezing. “Is Mama - a bad person?”

Under the snow-topped trees of the park, Simon Riley stopped mid-step. He had been cataloging every person they walked past, every pram that bustled by, every tree that crackled with the sound of ice thawing. He threw caution to the wind, pulled Winnie’s head from his neck, and looked her in the eye, “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

She tried to tuck her head back down, but he made her look at him. She wiped the snot on her face with her sleeve. “You always say that good things happen to good people.”

Dammit. Good parenting, always biting him in the ass. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little proud of himself, but he couldn’t deny how his heart burned with agony. 

“And bad things happen to bad people. Is Mama bad?”

“No. No, never in a million years is Mama a bad person.” His icy hand brushed her tears away, pushing down his fear, and spoke, “I am the bad person.”

“…You?”

He didn’t expect his nose to prickle, or his eyes to burn. “I’m the bad person that bad things happen to. My choices. I save the world, yes, but I have to do bad things to do it.”

“So…the bad people who took Mama and Mellie… did you-”

“No. I didn’t tell anyone to take them away. The people that I stop…they did that because they don’t like me.”

“But, Daddy, I think you’re a good person.”

Simon’s hand curled around the back of Winnie’s head, cradling it as he spoke even softer, “I know you do. Daddy is a good person. But when I wear the mask, when I’m Ghost…”

“Ghost isn’t a good person.”

“No, he isn’t, love. The bad guys made choices that hurt Mama and Mellie. And I’m trying to fix what they hurt.”

“So Mama’s not bad.”

He shook his head. “No. Just me.”

“No, Daddy’s good.” Her cold little hands settled on Simon’s cheeks, and his bleeding heart warmed just a little. “Ghost is bad.”

“Okay, duckling.” He pushed her hair from her face and some feeling of sickly sweet warmth nestled in his head as he memorized his daughter’s little face for the nth time. His smile, his eyes, his curly hair, everything he took from his own mother. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on Winnie’s forehead before he rested his cheek there, eyes closed, “I believe you.”

[spread-the-influence]

Okay this has been orbiting my mind for a hot minute but could the influence virus affect different people in different ways in order to spread? Like, it's pretty much been implied that the virus makes you kinder to attract others into the trap but what if the technique changed to be more fitting according to the person?

Some examples that have invaded my brain:

Jax: Becomes a tyrant with the virus powers, orders people around and spreads beliefs like "you'll get hurt if you don't do this", makes the people suffer if they don't comply, covers it up, and goes "see? Told you". Basically spreads the virus through gaslighting.

Pomni: Becomes obsessed with helping herself, using the virus to look for an exit and claims it's for the best interest of everyone, uses the others by constantly playing the "I'm the new one and still hopeful" card and ends up dragging everyone into her madness.

Kinger: Claims to hear voices. The voices of those who he's seen abstract over the years. He believes he must help them but their code is no longer functional. Luckily, he's surrounded of code in the circus and just happens to have the power to take it.

anywaysbyeloveyouplatonically-

this is how the virus works actually ! it takes a lot from its host so it would spread , which opens up a Bunch of possibilities for the other characters .

so it doesn't make you Kinder per se , that's just only because it has tailored itself to ragatha ' The Fawner ' tadc . you know , the nice gal . the people pleaser . the ' starved for affection and love but is afraid to voice it out loud so she deals with it by supporting others but it just forces her into an endless cycle where her self-worth is inherently dependent on others approval to the point she would shatter at the thought of anyone hating her ' ragdoll . it'll be a Very different story if it tailored itself to jax or , fuck , even Gangle .

this is also why i'm leaving the option for any potential spin-offs of this au where another person is the host to the community , because this au is made from my insane thoughts about ragatha and i can't really capture that same essence for the other characters . sorry ragdoll brainrot too strong

also btw i love the idea for kinger omg it's so creative

[yun-fangz]

bear!jongho with any hybrid darling, and its darlings first heat, but she’s unaware of it. all she know is the fuzzy and uncomfortable feeling that’s taking over her body, and bear!jjong is just there trying to control himself and not jump onto her and bend her over :((

Oh my god ya’ll are feeding me!!!!!!!!! I literally screamed into my pillow reading this AH. I can just imagine this especially if his darling is a prey!hybrid…..

Pairing: BearHybrid!Jongho x Fem!PreyHybrid!reader

Warnings: Smut MDNI 18+, cunnilingus (kitty kat eating), fingering, squirting, first time heat, strength kink, overstimulation, jongho is a little awks, possessive!jongho if you squint

Wc: 1.5k

Also something i can’t help with concepts like this is roommates to lovers so i added that too! hope you don't mind :3

Oh poor bear hybrid!jongho. He was just so sweet. He knew your heat was coming but didn’t want to say anything to make it awkward, he just slowly let it take over until you asked him to help or went to someone.

It started out as a normal and restful day for the both of you. You each had the day off of school and work so it was the perfect time to rest up and enjoy each other's presence. Although he tried to act normal, Jongho could smell the bubblings of your heat as you plopped yourself next to him. He assumed you knew until you were casually talking about your plans for the next week.

He tried to ignore the slight stirring in his pants, not wanting to ruin this perfectly normal day because of his animal instincts. It only seemed to grow harder though as the day went on, your scent becoming stronger by the hour.

You could tell something was a little off with Jongho, noticing how he opted to give himself a little more space between the two of you. You didn't think you did anything, perhaps you smelled? No, you just showered. You hadn't been feeling the greatest either but you didn't really think it was noticeable. Maybe he was just trying to avoid getting whatever you possibly had. Strange.

Unfortunately for you, the weird feeling only got worse as the day went on, clamminess took over your body as things started to become all fuzzy. Could it have been something you ate? You couldn't list anything off the top of your head that you were allergic to, or anything that may have been bad.

It wasn't long after you that started feeling your panties become unnaturally sticky against your core, the fuzzy feeling in your gut only getting stronger too. This time it began to cloud your brain, causing you to panic a bit at the haziness you felt.

Jongho could feel your scent shift once more, a heavier and more intoxicating smell invading his senses. He could feel his cock chub heavily against his thigh as he held back a groan. This new scent was sending him into a near overdrive, his animal senses wanting him to do nothing more than bend you over the nearest surface and take you. He simply say there fidgeting in his spot as you laid there, unaware of his predicament.

Shifting, you tried your best to relieve yourself of the uncomfortable feeling, only to let out an involuntary moan as your panties shifted against your clit, causing a heavy wave of pleasure to course your body. Flinging a hand to your mouth, horror washes over you as you feel more arousal dribble out of your sensitive core, soaking the material of your shorts.

You sit there unmoving as the fuzzy sensation soon consumes your being, taking over all of your senses and thoughts. Jongho takes a concerned look at you, watching as your thighs subconsciously rub together in search of any kind of relief.

"You alright?" He asks quietly, already half-knowing the answer. He just wanted to make sure you were aware too.

"I... I don't know, i'm not feeling too good..." You trail off, holding back a whine as you feel more arousal drip onto the soaked fabric. You clench around nothing in attempt to stop the feeling, only for more to escape once you relax.

Jongho takes a second to digest your answer and it dawns on him, you don't know you're going into heat.

Holy shit.

His inner bear practically roars at him to ravage you, a pretty innocent flower unaware and in need of relief. He takes a deep breath as to calm himself down, to will away all of the graphic images that pop up in his mind as he looks at you. He thinks it works until a weak call out of his name from you has him gripping the sides of the couch and biting his lip, stifling a growl.

"I don't k-know whats, fuck, what's wrong with me.." you whimper, you fucking whimper, the hell is happening?

Jongho manages to take a deep breath and attempt to compose himself. You were his roommate and needed to be taken care of, he needed to get himself together. Acting as if he were not affected, Jongho moves to a crouch by your side, watching you with a heavy look.

"Shit, how do is say this..." Jongho trails off, redness creeping up his neck and ears. He was actually unaware of how to approach the subject, the scent of you so close to him slowly beginning to cloud his judgement. If he didn't know any better he'd think your scent alone could send him into a rut.

Shaking off the feeling, Jongho clears his throat before addressing you once more.

"You're..... in heat."

Oh.

Oh no.

Hot tears spring up as the realization dawns on you and Jongho can almost feel the embarrassment seep from your pores and into the air. He watches unmoving as you internalize the information before cowering into yourself, a small sob bubbling out of your throat.

"God this is so embarrassing, i'm so sorry i had no idea. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, i... i can go somewhere else. i didn't know..." you knew were rambling, shame and terror racking your body as your greatest fear has manifested itself into reality.

Not only were you unprepared for this new development, but now you were going to lose your best friend and the man you've pined after because of it. You hadn't realized you were sobbing until you hear Jongho shush you softly, wiping the tears from your hot cheeks. The feeling of him on you had you reeling, another wave of arousal washing over you as you take in his heavy cedar scent. You didn't know if it was your heat speaking, but you suddenly needed him, now.

"Hey, hey, it's okay..." He's not sure what to do. He knows he should send you to another prey!hybrid and get you taken care of, but another more predatory part of him wants to keep you to himself, forever.

"Do you have prey hybrid I can call? I know Seo-" He's cut off with a thrash of your head, rejecting the offer before he can even finish. You didn't know what's taken over your mind. You knew he should call, get you with someone who could properly take care of you. You didn't want that though, you wanted him. Maybe he would send you off anyway, wanting to save what was left of this friendship but you didn't care. Not anymore at least.

"No, please don't send me away. I... I want you."

Jongho could feel all the wind get knocked out of his lungs at your confession. It was as if his dirtiest dreams have come true; you looking at him with wide eyes, begging for him, for his cock. He immediately snapped into action, allowing his instincts to take over as he takes you into his arms and to his bed.

In no time your clothes are off and he's between your legs, taking almost your entire pussy into his mouth, drinking down your arousal as two of his fingers open you up.

"You don't know how long i've dreamed of this" He said, his ears twitching as he lapped at your sensitive cunt.

"You spread out under me, so pliant, so beautiful, just for me."

All you could do was moan loudly as your first orgasm quickly approached, the feeling of his plump lips sucking on your clit sending electric jolts up and down your spine.

"I- 'm c-close" Is all you could do to warn him of your impending release. Jongho was struck with a newfound fervor as he rammed his digits inside of you, his tongue toying with your swollen bud.

In no time, your orgasm washes over you in heavy waves, causing you to twitch and buck against his mouth. He doesn't care as he uses an arm to hold you down as he eagerly takes in the viscous liquid, unrelenting as he licks at your pussy. He ignores the way you begin to thrash against him in overstimulation, another second and stronger orgasm coming and hitting you just as quickly, before you're able to let out a noise.

Clenching hard around his fingers, your back arches as a new feeling surges through you, much stronger than any of your past orgasms. White spots your vision as he rocks you through it, his hand and mouth soon coming to a stop, allowing you to finally breathe.

As your vision returns, you're met with the sight of Jongho standing in his full glory, his brown fuzzy ears twitching as his face is dripping in your arousal and it's then you notice what's just happened.

You had just squirted... on his face.

You had no time to feel shame as you watched him suck the remaining arousal off his fingers, causing you to clench around nothing.

"That was so hot, baby" He purred, his hands now reaching for the waistband of his sweats, freeing his thick and heavy cock. The sight of it had you drooling, arousal flowing out of you in a heavy stream onto his sheets.

"Let's see if you can do the same on my cock."

part two? ♡

© 2024 yun-fangz All Rights Reserved.

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ the mood i'm in ❞ ─ an adhd chronicles blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!adhd!reader. summary: sometimes rearranging a whole entire closet is a biological need. content warnings: fluff, adhd antics (i'm diagnosed don't try to come for me) word count: 600+. a/n: this was requested by @ficmeoutofthisworld and i felt the need to make a blurb!verse of it, so expect more fluff for these three 🩵 & the idea of jack calling you honey came from honey is for love by @angellsell

      “Daddy, honey has that weird look again.” Aaron can’t help but smile at his little boy, putting the files he was working on down on his desk, telling him to come closer with his hands. Jack had gotten into the habit of calling you honey very early on in your relationship, that being one of the pet names Aaron used the most when talking to you. It was too endearing to correct him, even after you moved in. You both just let the boy be, knowing that he would call you by name once he got older.

      You didn’t mind him not calling you mom or any of its variants, even if the relationship you shared now was much alike mother and child, Jack didn’t remember a lot of Haley by himself, he was too little, but Aaron always did his best to keep her memory alive in him, so if for his young mind it was easier to call you a pet name, you would take it every single time with a smile. And so would Aaron. 

      “What look, buddy?” He asks even though he’s sure he knows the answer, having been through that a few times over the last two years. 

      “She’s staring at my stuff and sitting on the floor.” Bingo. Every once in a while you would get obsessed with something, it made sense after you were diagnosed with ADHD and he learnt how to accommodate you properly, but for a while it was just a big clash of his organized and controlling nature and your chaotic mind. 

      “Let’s see what she needs, okay?” Jack nods, leading the way with his dad closely behind. They find you exactly as his boy explained to him, sitting with your legs crossed on the floor, staring at his wardrobe so attentively it might scare the unknown eye. 

      “Darling? What’s going on?” He asks without entering the room, not wanting to invade your space before you called him in, instead he decided to lean on the door frame, observing you with his kind eyes.

      “I want to rearrange all of Jack’s clothes but we need more hangers for that and I don’t want to go to the store just to buy hangers, but I also can’t get up to go to the kitchen and check what else we need.” You answered quickly, finishing your ramble with a huff, dropping your shoulders and looking at your fiancé with a pout that made him get closer to you, offering his hands so you could have some support while getting up, you lazily do it, being embraced by him as soon as your feet touch the ground. 

      “Go watch something with Jack, okay?” His tone is always soft, as if your conversations, even the silliest and mundane ones, were secrets for you two to keep. He knew you too well, so he prevented the whine he knew would come–you wanted to get this done, you needed to rearrange Jack’s clothes or the itch in your brain wouldn’t leave–and he did so by holding both of your cheeks with his hands, making you look at him. “I’ll make the shopping list and then you both can go to Target while I get some reports done.” You nod happily, his hands moving with your head. 

      Telling you to watch something with Jack could seem like a mindless choice of words, but it wasn’t, Aaron knew you were feeling stuck and how bad that made you feel, you needed a dopamine kick before you could do something, and no better way for that than colorful silly shows with your favorite boy.

      By the time he’s done with the shopping list, you had already started another important project: Napping on the couch with Jack. So he leaves it attached with a magnet on the fridge, gives you both soft forehead kisses and goes back to work, not minding the fact he did it quickly for no reason, happy you were resting and that it was done for when you decided to shop.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 21

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, blood, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Indomitable. Of the man words you would use to describe the soldier. So it is that there is no resistance left in you. 

The buzz of your struggle for your very life slakes away and you’re left depleted. As if to balance the scales, he helps you wash away the blood. You maneuver around your foot in an effort to keep the bandage and wounds dry. By the end, you can barely hold your head up. 

He carries you to the couch. His avoidance of the bedroom is noted. Your mind tiptoes back inside, the gruesome sight etched into your brain.  

He covers you in a blanket before he builds a new fire. The crackles eases you. You wallow as you are, body ensnared in a shell of agony and shock. Your eyes close without meaning to. 

His shadow moves around you in the din of subconscious. The black tides ebb and flow, swirling in your head, lifting you into the flicker of the room and plunging you back down. His footsteps pace through the distortion of your fatigue. 

The fires snapping and cracking stays constant. Then there’s something else. Thumping, scraping, sounds that blend together into a grating drone. 

You wake to a pang that throttle your voice in your throat. You lurch and try to pull your foot away from the snare. The soldier clamps onto your ankle and keeps your feet in his lap. He rewraps your foot and calf in a fresh length of bandage. 

You whimper and whine as he secures it. He hushes you through his teeth. He trails his hand up your leg and rests it on your knee. He looks at you as you fall back and pant. 

Fuck. The pain never quite went away but its more unbearable than ever. Your body will never be the same again. It will never be yours. 

You pull your feet off his lap, a strangled grunt forcing its way from your throat. You turn onto your side to face the back of the couch in an effort to hide your grief. Hours ago, maybe longer, you were happy to be alive. Now you’re back to dreading your existence. 

The couch shifts with his weight. He stands on the groaning floor and his shadow ripples in the glare of the fire. He touches your back, nudging you, and brushes his hand down to your hip. He clutches you as he angles himself down behind you. 

You don’t move. You let him move you. He crowds you into the couch as he lays himself flush to you. He hooks his arm around your middle and nestles in under the blanket. His warmth, despite his unwelcome, is a comfort. More than the pain, you loath the cold. 

He tickles along your stomach. You shiver. The heat of his body clouds around you as his fingertips explore your body. You have nothing to hide beneath but the blanket and he’s invaded that.  

He fondles your chest. There’s a curiosity in his touch that keeps you from fighting. That and what you know for sure. It’s all futile. All of it. You may have fought for your life but without him, it was a losing battle. He holds your life in his hand just as he holds you. 

His thumb rolls around your nipple as he feels it harden. He flicks it, circles it, pressing against it. His touch grows firmer as goosebumps graze your skin. 

His fiery breath plumes into your hair and his hand crawls back down your stomach. He flutters over the soft flesh of your stomach, lingering on the cushion there. It’s not so much as it was only weeks ago. As his hand drifts lower, you tremble. 

He traces the lines of your pelvis and pets the curly tufts of hair. He combs through the wiry strands and twirls them around his fingertips. His breath grows jagged. He grunts as he presses against you. 

You close your eyes. He pets you until your flesh is hot. He slides his fingers down and prods until your part your thighs. You murmur as he curls his fingers and slips between your folds. You bite your lip as he presses against your clit roughly. 

You wince at he pushes hard, rubbing you until the friction scalds. You close your legs against him and reach to stop his hand. To your surprise, he stops. He tenses. You won’t make him stop, but you can’t let him hurt you anymore.” 

“Softer,” you whisper, “nicer.” 

Your turn your hand to stretch over his large one and extend your fingers along his. You guide his fingertips and rock his hand gently. You lift your leg again and arch into him. You might not want it or have asked for it but the thought of release is the only relief you can imagine. 

He moves to your whim. You feel his muscles relax as he gives over control to you. Your body responds despite being whittled away in the shadow of the last days. You slicken against his touch. 

“Like that,” your hand falls away. 

He keeps the slow, steady motion. You sigh. You give in entirely as he keeps going. Your nerves tie around his fingertips and a cluster thrums in your core. You sink against him and hum. You focus on the climax, letting the rest of this twisted world drift away.