#shatter fic

[goddessofchaosss]

Most people would see Ellie as a strong non submissive. Hard headed, stubborn woman. Most girls would say that she doesn’t look like the type to like being called pretty or let someone else take the reigns

Ironic considering that Ellie really likes being called pretty and be praised, especially in bed

At first when y’all started dating, she was very dominant and didn’t really make loud noises because she’s was pretty shy around you. But after awhile she got more comfortable and relaxed, and didn’t seem to hold back. Well that’s what u thought. Now imagine the realization when u notice how much she likes being praised, I mean she’s so wet.

What shocked u is that she’s sooo whiny and whimpers when u touch and say things the right way. Nibble her ear, check. Lick and suck her neck, check. Grind on her thigh or her crotch, check. Grip her neck and have a nasty messy make out, absolutely check.

If u call her a pretty girl while grinding on her or touching her, then best believe she will let out the nastiest sound and her boxers will be soaked. She gets so desperate that her hands shake around ur waist, she just can’t wait to put her pretty pussy on urs or fuck u real good with the strap:(

“Please baby- don’t stop”

“Ellie- fuck, ur so pretty”

She will hide her pretty fucking face in ur neck because of how red her face feels. She’ll feel herself drip and feel so sticky between her pretty legs. She’ll be so annoyed with herself because she wants to make u come and be all whiny and shit, so why is she the one receiving the earth shattering head while being called a good girl? Are u trying to kill her? She feels her goddamn heart in her fucking throat.

“God- ur such a good girl baby, I-I love you so much fuck-“

“U make me feel soso good baby”

“U-ur gonna make me cum angel, hahh my god”

She will come fast if u pull her hair, tell her how good she is and that she’s doing an amazing job. She’ll start breathing deep, fast and swear under her breath whilst trying not to be so fucking loud but that’s impossible since ur touching every single sensitive spot on her body;)

She’s just a girl🎀

[kkbardd]

Reverse Nerd!AU in which Asuka is a fictional character and Rei is a diehard weeb who makes her their entire personality

[akai-akai]

tf141 assisting in a drug bust, except the drugs get lit on fire and they're accidentally breathing in the fumes and getting high as fucking balls.

Johnny is MIA, chased some fucking wild animal off into the brush and he's not answering comms.

Kyle is having a crisis, nearly in tears as he yells "I promised my mum I'd never do drugs!!" at the ground as if it's the dirt's fault he's fucking baked.

Simon is sitting on the ground, head in his hands, not speaking a word and sitting so still he could be mistaken for a highly realistic mannequin.

John is squinting at each of them, can't focus his eyes, blurting out "where the fuck is Soap?" after doing the 9th headcount. Doesn't realize he's been leaning way off to the side and tilting his head with each headcount until he almost loses his balance.

And Laswell. Poor Laswell. She's directing the extraction team with minimal help from any of these idiots, pinching the bridge of her nose and wondering how much paperwork this is going to end up in.

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

based on that one video of the news reporter high as fuck as a ton of drugs are burning behind him, it's one of my favorite news videos

[sherbet-powder]

reread Shattered Pieces by @gilly-moon again ^_^

(my heart is crying send help)( ノД`)…

plain ver under the cut!

[hbdttg]

“Hold the elevator!”

The elevator doors are mere inches from closing, but Steve dutifully shoots a hand out to stop them. They slide back open, revealing a flustered-looking man about Steve’s age on the other side.

He’s dressed head to toe in black, decked out in a simple black pullover with a modest V-neck, snug black jeans, and all-black leather Chucks with a messenger bag slung across his chest. The messenger bag is, unsurprisingly, also black, but covered in a collection of tough-looking patches and pins in varying shades of—well, it’s mostly red, dark red, white, and some yellows, but the pops of color still stand out against his otherwise monochrome ensemble.

His dark, curly hair reaches a little past his shoulders and he’s got this frankly outdated fringe that, despite its very 80’s vibe, frames his face perfectly. His eyes are large and expressive, and he’s got this frantic energy about him that reminds Steve of a live wire. He’s nothing like the buttoned-up suits Steve usually shares his elevator rides with each morning, and it’s a refreshing change of pace.

The man gives Steve a thankful look before stepping into the elevator and leaning against the side wall. “Thanks,” he says, a little distractedly. He’s got a pair big of headphones on and Steve realizes he’s in the middle of a phone call when he adds, “No, not you, Gare, I was thanking the guy who held the elevator for me. Yeah, this building’s crazy. There’s a whole-ass sixtieth floor—guess I’m kind of a big deal now.” He lets out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, reaching for the panel beside him.

As the doors close and the elevator starts to slowly ascend, Steve notices the man pressed the button for the floor above his. Both the fifty-second and fifty-third floor buttons are lit in a halo of green.

“You know I didn’t want to leave you guys,” the man continues, a bit more quietly now that he and Steve are sharing the same small space, “but shit, I couldn’t turn down the pay.” He scoffs. “Ugh, listen to me, just another cog in the capitalist machine. Man, if high school me could see me now. High school Eddie used to talk big about forced conformity and rising up against the man, and now here I am—”

Steve tries not to listen to the one-sided conversation going on beside him, but it’s difficult when a moment later, he hears his own name.

“—clocking in for my first day at fuckin’ Harrington Hargrove Hagan. The pretentious bastards can’t even shorten it to an acronym or something. God forbid they have to miss out on the sound of their own names.”

Steve manages to hold in the obnoxious snort that threatens to escape him. He’s starting to think he might like this guy—Eddie, his mind supplies helpfully—but Eddie’s next words have him freezing in place.

“And it’s nepo baby central. Yeah, pretty sure all the H kiddies are hotshot brokers with the company. All the biggest accounts—gee, I wonder why.”

Steve can feel the back of his neck burning hot with a mixture of annoyance and shame as Eddie cracks a caustic joke about silver spoons and trust funds.

“You’re kidding, one of them works at this branch? Damn, I guess I’ll just keep an eye out for the guy who most looks like he’s got a giant stick up his ass.”

This is quickly becoming the longest elevator ride of Steve’s life. He grits his teeth and stares fixedly at the floor display panel above the elevator doors, watching the numbers climb higher and higher. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight.

“Listen, I should go, but let’s grab a drink at the Hideout later. Cool, see you then. Bye.”

Forty-one. Forty-two.

Eddie removes his headphones and shoves them into his bag, angling slightly toward Steve. “Sorry about that, man.”

“You’re good,” Steve says shortly, not looking away from the changing numbers. They reach the forty-seventh floor, and all the while, he feels Eddie’s gaze on him.

It’s not like he’s openly staring, but there’s a certain weight to his furtive glances that completely counteracts his attempts at subtlety. It’s the type of gaze Steve’s familiar with, one that he’s been on the receiving end of since his sophomore year of high school when he hit a growth spurt and actually learned how to style his hair. Assessing. Appreciative. Interested.

And in any other situation, Steve would gladly engage. He’d turn on the charm, quirk the corner of his lip up in that way Robin always rolls her eyes at but reluctantly acknowledges as ‘passably effective’, and maybe even make up an excuse to sidle a bit closer.

But he’s not giving this guy his A-game.

Instead, Steve waits in stifling silence until the fifty-second floor is announced and the doors slide open. He steps forward to exit, but at the very last moment stops in the doorway.

He initially wasn’t going to say anything—though, a past version of himself would have definitely spat something biting and bitchy to Eddie about his snark, would have snootily told him to take his little assumptions and shove them where the sun don’t shine—but sooner or later Eddie’s going to realize he and Steve are colleagues, and he’s going to remember shit-talking him in an elevator on his first day of work, and it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable.

Steve’s just speeding up the timeline, pushing for the sooner rather than the later, when he decides to spin around and fully face Eddie.

“I think you pressed the wrong button,” he says, all sweet and helpful like he’s talking to Dustin’s mom over a sink full of soapy dishes. “Couldn’t help but overhear that you work at Harrington Hargrove Hagan. It’s on the fifty-second floor, not the fifty-third.” Then he takes a small step backward, moving out into the carpeted hallway.

“Oh.” Eddie scrambles for his phone, unlocking it and scrolling quickly until he finds something that has him straightening up and smiling gratefully at Steve. “I guess I remembered it wrong. Thank you.” He pushes away from the wall, takes a step forward to follow Steve out, but then stops dead in his tracks.

Steve gleefully notes the line of Eddie’s gaze, how it lingers at the breast pocket of his shirt, where, clipped to a retractable badge reel, his building keycard hangs. Eddie evidently hadn’t noticed it during the elevator ride up, but he’s certainly fixated on it now.

Perhaps on the abstract yet easily recognizable Harrington Hargrove Hagan logo in the top right corner.

But more likely, based on the positively mortified look growing on Eddie’s face, on the name clearly printed underneath Steve’s photo in bold, black lettering: STEVE HARRINGTON.

Slowly, Eddie drags his eyes back up to Steve’s face. He stares in silence, eyes bugging nearly out of his head, face turning a concerning shade of pink, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and his reaction is extreme enough that a small part of Steve is almost inclined to take pity on the guy and laugh it all off.

Unfortunately for Eddie, a bigger part of Steve thinks Eddie looks kind of cute all red-faced and embarrassed like this. So he glances down at himself thoughtfully before turning his attention back on Eddie. “Wow,” he says with exaggerated astonishment, “now that you mention it, I guess I do look like I’ve got a giant stick up my ass.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimes in warning. The doors begin to close, but Eddie just remains rooted in place with that same wide-eyed, horrified expression.

When it becomes clear he has no intentions of actually exiting the elevator, Steve chuckles and wiggles his fingers in a cheeky little wave. “Welcome to the team,” he says airily, before Eddie’s still-blushing face disappears behind the elevator doors.

/ Now with a Part 2!

[terriblyrenderedenigma]

On Transformers and Human soulmate tropes...

(i do personally attack starscream at the end, i'm sorry starscream lovers, i love him too, but he's just a sad, devious little guy.)

Just a little thought here, so, I love soulmate tropes. Depending on the plot, they can be really fun and take so many interesting paths as a medium used within storytelling, whether romantic or platonic.

But what i want to talk about specifically is Transformer x Human soulmate tropes. Like, you have this super sweet side to it where the bot can be like 'I have waited my entire life to find you, finally, I can hold you in my arms and we never have to part again'. Depending on the character/story/type of SM (soulmate, shortening it because I'm not gonna keep writing it out) trope of course.

Can I just say how...instrumentally fucked this is though? So you have this race of robots who live for, what is essentially millennia out in the wild unless they catch the smoke. Their soulmate ends up being this little creature that lives for 80, maybe 100 years tops before dying. -Unless we're going for some kind of mind switch body type thing, but we all know how that went with spike in g1.

Our beloved robo blorbos will eventually have to cope with the fact that their soulmate, the person or creature they're MEANT to be with via laws of the universe, will die a LOT sooner than they will.

This especially hits hard with the decepticons who, depending on continuity -- hate humanity already. Bots who've gone through so much, losing their home, friends, and their dignities; have to learn to put up with and accept this creature as their fated mate/spouse/conjux endura, whatever you want to call it- SOULMATE.

Then the decepticons just have to deal with the fact that they're going to lose this person too, just like they've already lost everything else and oh GOD. Maybe they choose to forget about them and move on, stay alone and mourn what could have been if the universe hadn't had such a fucked sense of humor. Maybe they choose to accept it, but never let their SM too close because they know they'll just be hurt so much more hurt when the inevitable comes.

Then you have to think about decepticons having to possibly protect their SM from other cons! From being taken and 'saved' by the autobots.

Imagine some bots or cons just flying off the handle, going crazy just to try and keep their human alive in any way they possibly can, afraid of running out of time.

(Starscream lovers forgive me for the angst)

And Starscream especially, Maybe he'd try. He'd have a great time, take a chance, and give it a go. But what if he's actually terrified? Maybe he'd also self sabotage a little, knowing the relationship will never last too long anyways; not in the short blink of time it would be next to his life. Maybe, he doesn't actually know what to do with himself in a positive relationship after being, i dunno, consistently dogged on by megatron and he freezes.

There's something actually good for him, and since he isn't sure how to receive or accept that fact, he's gone. And maybe he'll come back, but the cycle could repeat.

(Im sorry, unless you put a tracker on him and call his ass and really give him some therapy. get him some god damn therapy.)

But yeah. All around, the angst potential is immense for this stuff and it makes me sad to think about so I thought i would share it instead of just write about it in an actual fic because my character analysis and ability to comprehend my own thoughts is so shit.

Okay, CIAOOOOOO~

[demaparbat-hp]

Hey, @geothewriter, was it necessary to break my heart?

A little thing for Vermillion Seas, Cardinal Skies, a truly magnificent fic that has left yours truly rolling on the ground more than once. I'll post the entire artwork once it's finished! For now, you get a little sneak peek.

Start reading the fic here. You can find Chapter 19 (from which this scene comes from) here!

[sweeteastart]

Warrior sketch from @linkeduniverse 🪻

[artstatues]

sweet boy. - a.w‎‎‎‎‎

wc : 339

pairings : aaron warner x fem!reader

synopsis : unfortunately, aaron's been extremely busy the past couple of days.

warnings : workaholic aaron, nothing much tho.

a/n : short drabble. writing mood today but had 0 ideas for the last hour or two, finally came up with this lmao

taglist : @never-enough-novels @reminiscentreader @kozumesphone @lxvebelle @shuhuaspookie

@off-to-the-r4ces @starrynightsxo @flowers-for-em

you sat on the office couch, eyes directed at your too focused boyfriend rather than the book in your hands. you loved aaron, you really did, but he’s been awfully busy for the last few days, too busy to give you any attention. only short good mornings, or good nights. he’d be gone when you woke up, and absent when you went to bed. you were sure he’s absolutely exhausted. the bags under his eyes becoming more prominent day by day. only did he look up from his laptop screen, or his papers say “oh, hello love,” or something like that.

you understood him. you knew he wanted to rave about how much he loved you, you knew how he wanted to lay in your lap and watched as you went on about your day. yet, he couldn’t. he has a full time job as the supreme commander. oh how you missed your aaron.

every time you’ve called him over to take a break, he’d simply say “5 more minutes love, i promise.” but did he fulfill those promises? no. just sweet nothings. 

“love?” he called.

“yes aaron?” you smiled down at him, staring at you from your lap.

“how was your day?” he inquired, causing you to put your book down.

“so-.....”

“aaron?” you tried, looking up from your book, some form of despair in your eyes, and your tone. “yes, love?” he looked up from his screen. you’re sure that was the first time he made full eye contact with you in the last 7 hours. you've been on this couch for 3. it’s 10.36 pm. “c’mere?” you patted your lap. his eyes looked dead, his eye bags only slightly covered by the frame of his working glasses. he unexpectedly got up and walked closer towards you. soon enough, he found peace on your lap, laying down sideways, staring at god knows what. you gently ran your hands into his hair, playing with a few strands. “oh my sweet boy.” you hummed.

how you’ve missed this…

[sweetprfct]

Hi, sweetie, everything alright? I have a request for Aaron if you don't mind...

I would like something where the reader is sick, one day she woke up with dizziness and a headache but didn't tell Aaron so as not to worry him, and maybe, when she was with Kenji and Aaron away from her the reader feels really sick? basically, something cute about Aaron taking care of the reader(and a little cute and concerned best friend kenji)

Thanks!!🤍

Never A Nuisance

Aaron Warner x Fem!Reader

Summary: Food poisoning from a bad sushi. Your boyfriend, Aaron, and best friend, Kenji, weren't exactly friends. One house, one thought of not wanting to worry them. What could possibly go wrong?

Author's Note: This was fun, so thank you for this request! :) Enjoy!

Wordcount: 3.6K

“Princess!” Kenji called out from the living room. “Are you coming or not? The movie is ready!”

You sat at the edge of the tub, hanging your head low. The throbbing headache you have been feeling since you woke up this morning had been killing you all day. However, you and Kenji already had made plans for today. Aaron was at work, and you certainly didn’t need to bother him either, especially that he has been stressed out with a lot of things. 

“I’m coming!” You yelled out, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

You couldn’t sleep well last night due to the fact that your stomach had been killing you. You couldn’t bear to let Aaron know because you knew he was going to be up early for work, and you didn’t need to disturb his sleep either. The cause of your headache was due to the lack of sleep and the fact that you were hungry, but you couldn’t even look at food right now without wanting to hurl. You knew you shouldn’t have eaten that sushi yesterday for lunch. It had been a while since you had some, and you just wanted to fill your cravings, especially that it was also your time of the month. 

Getting up from the edge of the tub, you splashed your face with some water from the sink and stared at yourself in the mirror. You looked pale. You slowly feel a fever coming in, but you had to go through with this. Besides, you would just be sitting on the sofa, watching a movie. You didn’t need to worry Kenji either. Walking out of the bathroom, you tried to balance yourself as you slowly walked down the hall and into the living room. 

“Popcorn?” Kenji smiled excitedly, handing you the bowl of popcorn.

You felt your stomach turned as you stared at it. You gave him a small fake smile and grabbed the bowl before settling yourself on the sofa. 

“What movie is this?” You asked. 

“Tangled.” Kenji replied, settling comfortably next to you. 

You slowly turned your head at Kenji, giving him a glare. This was the fifth time you both watched this movie, and you honestly weren’t in the mood for a happy sunshine kind of movie at the moment. 

“No.” You stated sternly. “I’m not watching this again!” 

“I thought you liked it?” 

“Not for the fifth time.” You argued, reaching over for the remote.

As you bent over towards the coffee table, you felt your stomach turn again as you clasped a hand over your mouth. Kenji stared at you for a moment, brows furrowing. 

“Are you okay, Princess?” He asked.

“Y…Yeah. Sorry.” You said, grabbing the remote and as soon as you sat back on the sofa, your head started to spin.

Swallowing everything that was starting to come up in your throat, you focused your attention on the television screen, scrolling through the variety of movies. You forced your eyes to stay open, blinking a few times to wake yourself up. However, you felt Kenji’s stare burning at the side of your face, and you knew he was trying to figure out if you were actually telling him the truth or not. Picking out a horror movie, you settled comfortably on the sofa, using a pillow to support your head and forced yourself to eat the bowl of popcorn that was sitting on your lap. 

For a moment, Kenji focused his attention on the television and after fifteen minutes that passed by, you started to feel the sushi from yesterday coming up in your throat again. You reached for the glass of water and drank it slowly before putting down the bowl of untouched popcorn on the coffee table. You felt Kenji’s eyes shift at you again. He knew something was wrong because not only you weren’t eating the popcorn—which was your favorite— you weren’t also very talkative like you usually were. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kenji asked. 

“Fine.” You replied, running your fingers through your hair.

It was starting to feel hot. 

Your body was heating up, but your toes and fingers were ice cold. You couldn’t understand what you were feeling right now, and your head started to spin again as you slightly moved your body to find a comfortable position. Kenji moved closer to you, his eyes squinting as he stared at your flushed red ears. 

“You’re sick!” He exclaimed, a hand immediately rested on your forehead. “Oh my god! You’re burning up!”

“I’m fine, Kenji!” You swatted his hand away, moving your head away from his touch but that only made you more dizzy. 

“No, you’re not. You’re burning up!” 

You watched as Kenji got up from the sofa and panicked washed over him. He handed you the glass of water, asking you to drink the whole thing before running towards the kitchen to search for some medicine. You sighed and laid yourself on the sofa, rubbing your temples. The loud cluttering that was going on in the kitchen only made your head spin even more. You closed your eyes and exhaled sharply. You didn’t know how long Kenji had been in the kitchen, panicking and opening and closing the cupboards and drawers. Time seemed to freeze at the moment as you felt your stomach turn again as you set your hand over it. Kenji’s panic state wasn’t helping you at all. 

“Kenji.” You called out, but your voice was too weak. 

Feeling the vomit coming up in your throat again, you clasped a hand over your mouth and quickly got up from the sofa. All Kenji heard was your footsteps running towards the bathroom and then the sound of you hurling out all the food that you ate yesterday. Your face flushed and so did your body. You felt your chest heaving as you groaned softly and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. You sat on the bathroom floor, closing your eyes and leaned back against the tub. 

Everything felt like shit. 

You didn’t know how long you were sitting there but suddenly, you heard rapid footsteps coming from down the hall and the bathroom door swung open. Opening your eyes, you saw Aaron walk in the door with his expression full of worry. 

“Love,” He murmured, immediately kneeling down in front of you. “What happened?” 

Your eyes shifted at Kenji, who stood behind Aaron by the doorway. 

“You called him?” You asked, your voice so low, but Kenji could hear the tone of frustration in your voice. 

“I had to!” Kenji shrugged, his eyes widened. “I didn’t know what was happening! Jesus Christ, Princess! I was so scared!” 

“I told you, I’m fine—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as you went back on your knees and vomited on the toilet again. 

All you heard was Kenji groaning in disgusts as Aaron gently rubbed your back and held your hair back. You didn’t want both of them to see you like this. It was disgusting, and you felt disgusting. Your mouth tasted so foul at this point from all the vomit, and it made you even more nauseous.  Aaron handed you a towel to wipe your mouth as he continued to rub your back softly. You watched as Kenji handed Aaron the glass of water as Aaron helped you, holding the glass and slowly letting you drink it.

“Kenji, could you go to the store and get her some medicine? Also, some soup and gatorade.” Aaron said. “She needs some electrolytes.” 

“Yeah, I’m on it.” 

Just like that, Kenji was gone, and your back was against the wall, your head resting against it. You closed your eyes and tried to breathe slowly. You didn’t want Aaron to see you like this, so grotesque and repulsive. You also didn’t want to bother him either. He was already stressed. Once you feel better, you’re definitely going to kill Kenji for doing this to you. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, staring at Aaron.

He was silent for a moment, his piercing green eyes were full of worry as he stared at you. He then slowly shook his head and wiped your mouth one more time with the towel. His silence was killing you. You didn’t know what he was thinking, and all the possible thoughts that you thought he might be thinking right now was eating you up slowly. 

“Please say something.” You said. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, brushing a strand of hair away from your forehead. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

“Since last night.” You sighed. “I ate some bad sushi for lunch and ever since then, my stomach had been hurting and I got a throbbing headache because I couldn’t sleep last night, and I didn’t want to bother you because you’re all stressed and—”

Aaron repeatedly shook his head and said, “There’s nothing more important in this world than you, love.”

You stared at him. His words made your heart swell. It tugged on your heartstrings as he cupped your face with his hands. 

“Stress or not stress… Even if I’m sick myself or I’m a hundred miles away, I will always put you first.” 

“Aaron…”

“There’s nothing you could do for me to prioritize you first, always.” Aaron added. “No matter what the situation is, you’re my first priority, you understand?”

You nodded your head, leaning against his touch as he softly brushed your cheek with his fingers. He could feel the heat that was radiating through your body, and he stared at your pale lips for a moment, tracing the outline with his finger. 

“How did you get here so fast?” You asked.

“I was just around the corner when Kenji called. I was gonna go home early to surprise you, so we can have a nice dinner.” Aaron gave you a small smile. “I brought your favorite flowers. Pink peonies.”

You couldn’t help but give him a small weak smile. If it wasn’t for your breath being so disgusting and foul right now, you would have grabbed him already and kissed him for being so sweet. You couldn’t explain what it was when it came to him, but he always made you feel so safe and protected. Even if he was just standing there next to you, or his presence was just in the room. Aaron knew you could handle yourself pretty well without him but that didn’t stop him to still take care of you and put you first. 

“C’mon…” He whispered, getting up from the floor, scoping you up and carrying you in his arms. 

He gently set you down on the bed as your cold fingers touched his cheek. His eyes immediately went dim as soon as he felt your cold touch. He didn’t like seeing you sick and the fact that he couldn’t do anything to take your pain away was killing him. Taking your hands in his, he pressed a soft kiss on your fingers before rubbing them softly to keep them warm.

“You’re cold.” He said. 

“Mhmm…” You closed your eyes, marveling at his touch. 

“Get some rest, love.” Aaron pulled the duvet close to your chest before planting a soft kiss on your forehead. 

As you slowly fluttered your eyes closed, Aaron got up from the bed and grabbed the heating pad and quietly entered back in the bedroom. Carefully, he pulled the duvet away from your body and rested the heating pad on your stomach. He smiled softly as you stirred and a soft hum escaped from you. Gently tucking you back in, he walked out of the bedroom and closed the door behind him quietly. 

In the kitchen, he found Kenji just arriving back from the store. Aaron couldn’t help but chuckle softly from the image of Kenji in front of him. His face was flushed, and it looked like he ran a mile from the way he was breathing at the moment. 

“Did you drive or did you run to the store?” Aaron teased. 

“Shut up.” Kenji rolled his eyes as he started taking out all the stuff from the grocery bag.

“You never had to take care of Nazeera when she’s sick?” Aaron asked, grabbing the can of soup from the kitchen counter.

Kenji shrugged and said, “That woman never gets sick. I… I got scared there for a moment.”

Aaron turned the stove on and started making the soup as he shook his head. His back was turned to Kenji, while Kenji stared at him for a moment. His mind was still running a million thoughts. He never saw you like this before, and it turned on his panic mode. He didn’t know what was wrong. He didn’t know what you needed to feel better. 

“I thought… nevermind.” Kenji bit his lower lip. 

“What?” Aaron looked over his shoulder, brows all furrowed. 

“Nothing.”

“Stop torturing me and just say what’s on your mind, Kishimoto.” Aaron shook his head as he looked back at the soup he was making on the stove. 

“I thought she was pregnant or something.”

Aaron immediately snapped his head back towards him, his green eyes wide in surprise, “What?”

Kenji saw the look that washed over Aaron’s face. It was a shock expression but at the same time, the idea of it didn’t make him afraid. It softened his green eyes even more. Relaxed his shoulders for the first time since Kenji has known him. He didn’t realize Aaron wasn't opposed to that idea, especially from the way Kenji had known him. Always cold and stiff. 

“I don’t know, man. I was panicking. She was vomiting, and I thought there’s something wrong. I mean don’t you vomit or something if you’re pregnant?”

Aaron couldn’t help but laugh. An actual laugh that Kenji never heard before. Dimples and everything. 

The man had dimples! 

“She has her period right now, you idiot.” Aaron’s voice sounded so amused. “It didn’t exactly help that she ate bad sushi yesterday.”

“Oh.” That was all Kenji could manage as he leaned against the kitchen counter. 

For a moment, he watched Aaron prepare your soup and chopped up some vegetables and other things and cooked them. Kenji could smell the delicious aroma that started to fill up the kitchen. He didn’t even know that Aaron could cook. Not just cook. He could plate it really well too. All fancy and shit like the way they did in the restaurants. 

“Okay, chef.” Kenji teased. 

“One of the things my mother taught me.” Aaron murmured as he finished up your plate. 

Aaron gazed up at Kenji and slid a plate towards him. Kenji stared at the food in front of him for a moment and then gazed back up at Aaron. 

“I can’t eat this.” Kenji said. 

“You saw me cooking it. I didn’t poison it.” Aaron argued back.

“It looks too pretty to eat it.” Kenji commented.

“Don’t act like you’re not hungry.” Aaron rolled his eyes, brushing off the discreet compliment that Kenji gave him. “I know how you are with food. You eat like a wild animal.” 

Taking a piece of vegetable, Kenji took a bite of it and held in his smile. Aaron knew he liked it, and he was forcing himself to not show it in front of him. Picking up his fork, Kenji started eating the rest of the food as Aaron shook his head and started cleaning up the kitchen counters. 

“Thank you.” Aaron said as soon as he finished cleaning, looking back at Kenji.

The silence that was blanketing the room was slowly killing him. Kenji gazed up at him, processing what Aaron was trying to thank him for. Then, he saw the genuine in his eyes and realized that he was actually being serious. 

“Of course, I care about her. She’s literally my best friend.” Kenji nodded. 

Another silence blanketed between them until—

“Aaron?”

Both of their heads turned at the same time towards the direction of the bedroom as soon as they heard your voice. You were awake, and Aaron immediately dropped the towel and washed his hands. 

“I got the dishes.” Kenji offered as Aaron grabbed the plate of food that he made for you and placed it on a tray. 

Staring at the ceiling, you blinked your eyes a few times to get rid of the sleep. Your headache was slowly fading away, and you had forgotten the memory of how you got back in your bed. You were still in pain when it came to your stomach, and you could feel another round of vomit coming up. Then, you heard the door open to find Aaron holding a tray of food. A small smile tugged on his lips.

“Hey, love.” He sets the tray next to you before stroking your hair softly. “How are you feeling?”

“I… need…” You clasped a hand over your mouth and Aaron’s eyes widened as he quickly ran out to grab a bucket for you. 

It didn’t take long for him to come back as he held the bucket in front of you, one hand clutching on your hair, while you vomited again. Aaron set the bucket down on the floor as soon as you were finished, grabbing the fresh towel and wiping your mouth gently.

“God, I’m so sorry.” You whispered as Aaron gently helped you sit up on the bed, your back leaning against the headboard.

“Don’t apologize, love.” He murmured, “It’ll pass. I promise.”

He handed you a glass of water as you took a big sip of it. You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment, shaking your head. Your headache was slowly fading, but you were still dizzy, and you just wanted this feeling to be over. 

“I didn’t want you to worry or be such an inconvenience. You already have a lot on your plate.”

Aaron moved himself from the edge of the bed and scooted himself over next to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he pulled you close to his chest. You exhaled a sharp breath, breathing him in. He smelled so fresh and nice, and his warm body was making you feel so sleepy. You felt warm and safe. 

You were home.

“Didn’t I tell you that you’re always my first priority, love?” Aaron murmured. “You’re never a nuisance to me. Ever.”

You pressed your face on his chest as you closed your eyes, your arm wrapping around his torso as you clung to him. You could stay in his arms forever. 

“Thank you.” You whispered. 

“I love you.” Aaron smiled, kissing your forehead. 

There was a comfortable silence for a moment as you slowly started falling back to sleep. Your breathing started to steady as Aaron rubbed your arm softly that made you even sleepier until you heard Kenji’s familiar voice that made you snap your eyes open.

“How is she?” Kenji asked.

Aaron felt your body jolt in surprise as you opened your eyes. You blinked a few times and saw Kenji standing by the doorway, sliding on his jacket. Aaron shook his head and gave Kenji a death glare for waking you up. 

“You never use your brain do you, Kishimoto?” Aaron said, irritation hinting at his voice.

“Sorry, I thought she was awake.” 

You lifted your head from Aaron’s chest, brows furrowing. You didn’t realize Kenji was still here. This whole time, he was here and Aaron was here, and the house didn’t burn down? That was impossible for your brain to comprehend even if you were sick. Did they have an actual conversation out there, or did they just stare at each other? For sure, you would have woken up if they had started beating each other up in the living room. 

“You’re still here?” You asked. 

“Unfortunately.” Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Kenji gave Aaron a side eye before giving you a small smile and said, “Of course. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You couldn’t help but smile at your best friend. He truly was the sweetest thing. Although, you didn’t mean to make him panic earlier. You saw his reaction, and he looked like a lost little puppy. 

“Thank you. I’ll be okay.” You said, giving him a small reassuring smile. “Even if I’m still upset with you for making that phone call.”

Kenji chuckled softly, “Whatever you say, Princess. I’ll get going. I’m sure Warner could handle it from here.”

You nodded your head as Kenji nodded his head at Aaron before walking away. You shifted your eyes at both men and saw the look on their faces. Almost like a silent understanding between them two, and you couldn’t help but wonder what happened between them when you were asleep. 

“I think he almost had a heart attack earlier.” You giggled softly, burying your face in Aaron’s neck.

“You should have seen him when he came back from the store.” Aaron laughed softly. 

You grinned and planted a soft kiss on his neck. Aaron felt your lashes tickle his neck as you closed your eyes. Being in his arms made you feel slightly better. It was almost like his presence was like a drug to you that you couldn't seem to understand, but you were so drunk in it. You just wanted this forever. You just wanted to stay in his arms like this forever.

“You should eat, love. I made you some food.” Aaron whispered.

However, you were struggling to keep your eyes open. You were exhausted from vomiting so much. The thought of food was still making you nauseous, and the heating pad that Aaron had set on your stomach had helped the pain to slowly fade away. Aaron rubbed your arm softly, and it gave you even more comfort. As he gazed down at you, he couldn’t help but smile when he found you asleep peacefully in his arms. 

“Sweet dreams, love.” He whispered, kissing your hair. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

The End.

*************

Taglist:

@gracie-221 @his-littlefox @annamatix @hannahmarie71 @ecliphttlunar @indythefandomhoarder @reminiscentreader @hrtsbecca @soulaires @shattermelyhfmlblog

[hanasnx]

❝ incendium. ❞

── stephen glass x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 3.3k SUMMARY: when a lie snowballs out of stephen's control, you swoop in for unorthodox damage control. NOTES: sorry i posted with the wrong title at first | wrote most of this over a year ago, so the style is a bit different, but stick with it trust me | if you say "part two" in the comments, you better come into my inbox with an actual plot or idea that will fit this "au" WARNINGS: f!reader | editor-in-chief!reader | suggestive content including sex and porn mentions so no minors still cos i dont want them on my page ever | deceit | inappropriate contracts.

When you’re the Editor-in-Chief for the biggest magazine of the year, you’ll have a couple thousand rumors spread about you. You wouldn’t pretend that its source wasn’t jealousy that drove poor opinions of you to circle the sandbox. It’s child’s play really, the way sparks of lies catch ablaze to spread like a dry forest’s fire. You’ve always imagined the end of the world to begin and end with a great flood— it was a blue planet after all. With that comforting metaphor, a measly incendium left you unbothered. 

You didn’t have a free moment in your schedule, and it had been like that for months. Being in charge meant shouldering the work of the workers underneath you, and it often meant taking some home with you— work, not workers. Speaking of which, you’d wish you’d find somebody decent to take home. Unfortunately, a relationship really didn’t fit into your hectic calendar. 

It was nice to have a personal assistant. She took care of the unimportant things for you, while you got to work on time and started on your bulleted list in order of priority. Said assistant, Maddy, sat at a desk outside your office, and when she entered to drop off your coffee she picked up, you seized the opportunity to inquire her knowledge on number one on your list. 

Maddy hummed questioningly as you waited, blinking at her over your reading glasses. “Oh!” She clapped her hands together once her memory was jogged. “The New Republic ran something a little detrimental to our brand. Our CEO’s legal team reached out to me to ask you to handle it before they had to step in. The last thing they want is a lawsuit—“ she rambled on and you held up your hand, quieting her. Upturning your palm to invite her to hand you TNR’s piece that supposedly mentioned this company. 

Maddy read your mind, spryly collecting the paper to place in your possession. 

It took seconds for you to scan it, creasing your brows in response to its misinformation. Maddy studied your reaction to its error. For you, this was not a matter of opinion, it was a matter of fact, and required your addressment. 

“Get Chuck on the phone, I want his earliest appointment.”

STEPHEN GLASS moistened his lips as he furiously typed up his latest story, anxious to meet the deadline with a particularly difficult article. His coworker Caitlyn swung in by his door frame. “Yo, Steve, Amy and I wanted to head to the bar after work today. You free?” Caitlyn had figured out the best way to ask him if he wanted to hang out was to put as little pressure on it as possible. He reminded her of a chihuahua…consistently shaken. 

Stephen glanced her way but continued typing. “Yeah? Got it… maybe…” he drawled dreamily, and she concluded he wasn’t entirely listening. 

Inviting herself inside, she slumped into one of his cold, blue, faux leather chairs. “What are you working on anyway?” 

“The Gainsmen piece. I was supposed to have it done already but it got buried.” he responded, eyes glued to the screen as if hypnotized. His hand blindly fumbled for his pen off to the side, like a good friend Caitlyn leaned over to slide the utensil into his fingertips. He banged the end of it against the meat of his thigh, revealing the ink tip so he could scribble some sort of note on his pad, all without ripping his pupils off the growing lines on the monitor. His coworker had never seen him so… intense. To free up his other hand for efficient typing he tucked the staff of the pen in between his lips. 

Stephen had the power to make her worry for him. From what she observed, he was overworked, and spent more time here than he ever did at home when he should be resting. That reasoning eased her into her next question, “You want me to help?” 

A sudden shift in his demeanor, his full attention on her for the first time since she entered his office, raising his brows with a hopeful glint in his dilated pupils. He pinched the pen in his knuckles, balancing the end of it against the corner of his mouth. “Would you?” His disbelief was adorably naive, as if surprised he’d ever receive help… if he deserved it. A smile tugged at Cait’s lips when she nodded, parting them to respond when a slam of a door tore both of their attentions away. 

It was you, the notorious editor of their largest competitor. It had silenced the entire floor, quiet enough to hear your heels click on the thin carpet, and Stephen’s pen drop onto his keyboard. Cait glanced at him as he scrambled to catch it in a failed attempt to prevent its further clattering against the keys. 

Every pair of eyes was on you as you cut through the stations. Your mere presence froze those around you, as if afraid to do something wrong and offend you in some way. At least, some of them anyway. Stephen always thought it was because of how stunning you were. Bone-chillingly authoritative in stockings and a pencil skirt. Behind his glasses his pupils dilated as they scanned from bottom to top, watching you walk further from him through the glass of his office. He gulped, thoughtlessly leaning in his seat to consume every angle of you his limited view from his desk would allow. Caitlyn had faced him again just in time to catch him in the act, and he settled back into his chair as if he hadn’t moved at all. She resisted the urge to flash him a quizzical look as he sheepishly watched himself fiddle with his pen in his lap. 

You did not waver your gaze from your goal, and Chuck had been expecting you. He wore the warmest smile he could muster as he opened his door for you, a headache having come on from the call he received earlier, announcing your scheduled arrival. “Miss (l/n),” he greeted with a nod, and you returned the greeting as he closed the door behind you. The frosted windows left a lot to the imagination of the employees on this floor. Everyone wordlessly agreed to remain reticent in order to eavesdrop on any juicy tidbit they could claw their sleep-deprived hands onto. Not only that, but as if enslaved to their subconscious desires, they shifted closer, gravitating towards Chuck’s office, crudely concealing the way they inclined their ears. 

Stephen’s hands clammed up, and he dropped the pen in between his legs so he could wipe his palms on his pants. He had a feeling he knew what you were here for. 

The conversation inside was indecipherable to the surrounding throng, except for one fragment at the resolution, resounding through the room, causing prying eyes to desperately study your blurred figures in hopes to interpret what kind of violent gestures you punctuated your threat with. 

“I will not be trifled with. My magazine did not tank my first year, it was the year before I was brought on board.” Able to see your arm raise, clutching a fluttering page, and slam it down onto Chuck’s desk. “When I came on I saved that establishment. I’m sick of reading about how the last Editor’s fault was mine! I expected more from The New Republic.” You had straightened. “Let a simple fact like this go unchecked in the future and I’ll poach you. Understand?” 

It was impossible to tell whether or not you waited for Chuck’s response before storming out. Stephen still thought you were as elegant as ever, observing you as you strode to the exit. He had suspected why you were here, and what you said at Chuck’s had confirmed it. You had nipped Chuck for signing off on Stephen’s piece. His mouth ran dry when your gaze landed on him. You didn’t recognize him as the man who wrote what you had come to pontificate on. Instead, you saw a boy in glasses, gawking at you from the seat of his desk as you happened to face him and accidentally make eye contact. 

Stephen had no idea you didn’t know who he was, and that assumption caused him to raise his hand at you to offer you a polite smile and a wave. You acknowledged it to be proper, unfaltering in your traipse. Just as soon as you’d left, the floor reignited, bustling and trucking through paperwork as if you’d never appeared. 

Caitlyn, unaware of Stephen’s current situation, had stood from the chair, and leaned against the back of it as she collected her thoughts, narrowing her eyes at Stephen. “What was that?” she inquired slyly, curious as to why Stephen had greeted you so familiarly. According to Cait’s knowledge, you and Stephen have never formally met, and you weren’t exactly the most accessible person to befriend. Casually greeting you was simply not done, unless it was a peer like Chuck. 

Stephen had returned to his monitor, nervously tapping the pen against the desk surface as the gears in his head turned. “What? You mean the wave?” he affirmed with a smile tugging at his lips, about to tell her the truth of why he did it. 

When you re-entered his mind, he idled, reminiscing on your outfit today. How your hips swayed in your smart pencil skirt, the lines of your stockings at the backs of your legs, the tasteful blouse and how it accentuated your exquisite outline. As a writer, Stephen admired your professional work. As an artist, he agonizingly wished he knew you— inside and out. When Caitlyn demanded an answer, Stephen looked up at her with a bashful snicker. “I mean… okay, alright,” He clasped his hands together, reminding himself how sweaty they were. 

“Go on, Steph, I’m waiting,” Cait said in a playful tone, eager to hear the gossip she knew he would inevitably spill. Her favorite source of entertainment was Stephen: the human embodiment of the overflowing cup. 

He longed to do just that, hanging his head briefly before feigning defeat. “We kissed.” he conceded as if it was reluctantly drawn from him rather than readily supplied as soon as it was conjured. He didn’t know why he said that, it just slipped out.

“Hey, Stephen,” Amy peeked her head in, seemingly oblivious of the nature of the conversation he and Caitlyn just shared, evidenced by Amy’s immediate interest in Cait’s gaping mouth, readjusting against the door frame. “Wait, wait, what did you say? What did I miss?” 

Cait flashed a look at Stephen as if to ask permission to repeat what he’d just spread. Stephen merely smiled childishly, and pinched his fingers together at the corner of his mouth, running across his lips pretending to zip them. Caitlyn got the message, nodding, and mimicking him. 

Amy sighed in playful annoyance, which only caused the other two to grin knowingly. “Whatever. Stephen, Chuck wants to see you in his office.” 

One more quizzical look from Cait, and he reassured her, “It’s probably nothing,” He met Amy’s gaze, “Tell him I’ll be right there, Ames.” 

We kissed. He’d said. We kissed. A lie he couldn’t stop pondering, and it snowballed into expansion. At first it was an innocent kiss, as virtuous as a young white flower. When it was received with such shock and entertainment, Stephen couldn’t help himself. A kiss became a heated make-out session at a company Christmas party he snuck into. A make-out became a regular occurrence when you just couldn’t stay away from him. A regular occurrence became seeing each other. Became experimental oral. 

All until it became dirty fucking on the side using your power as an Editor over him. “What am I gonna do? Say ‘no’ to her? No,” Stephen shook his head and sipped his Colombian coffee from the slit in its lid. “No,” he swallowed, “not to an Editor-in-Chief.” His regaling earned him pats on the back and laughter from those taking it as a joke. No one thought he was in any real danger. It’s not like he worked underneath her— in an employment stance. 

He couldn’t give it up. Cooking was one thing, but earning the respect of those around all because a woman made of ice was supposedly wrapped around his finger was another high entirely. One he couldn’t give up, no matter how immoral. He admired you— immeasurably— and still he let those words run out of his mouth faster than he could stuff them back in. Filthy secrets about what you’re like in bed, how rough you like it, what position is your favorite. It’s not like he could reveal those details without unveiling a little of himself and his fantasies as well. 

He never expected that it’d turn out like this. 

Never expected he’d be summoned to your office. 

“Miss—“ Maddy’s clear voice rings in your ear, interrupting you during your process of scratching your notes into the margin of the text. 

You sigh. “Madeline, if you’re here about Frank’s paternal leave again I’ll be forced to fire that baby myself.” 

She stutters, caught off guard by your sour attitude and poorly-timed joke. “No, Miss, I’m here to announce Mr. Glass’s arrival. I made him wait a few minutes- like you asked.” 

You peer up from your work at Maddy who’s in a straight-and-narrow posture by the door as you gesture incredulously with your hand. “Go ahead, send him in.” She nods, and hastily abides by your notion, fetching him. 

This time you don’t redirect your eyes from your thick pile of papers as you annotate, the nervous footsteps of your anticipated company echoing through your cavernous office. He follows the rug across the long pathway to the chair in front of your desk, taking a seat, and the leather creaks against itself. 

He takes notice of your strategic reticence. “Hi.” his wavering voice is a near whisper. Your script comes to a screeching halt. 

“Mr. Glass,” you reply, “you are a man-in-demand, aren’t you?” You swipe a page to the left, noting at the top right to bookmark it. 

Sheepish, Stephen stutters in his response, lips curled politely up, “I- I suppose so. I suppose I wouldn’t know.” To keep him nervous, you hum, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Every movement, no matter how minute, creates the leather din that damn-near echoes in your resonate office-space. He waits for you to speak, and when it becomes unbearable he fills the silence. “Is this about your talk with Chuck– er, Charles Lane? Because- about that, if you just listen–” 

At that, your eyes finally flicker up to meet his. “No, Mr. Glass, it is not.” He swallows. It’s becoming increasingly clear why you’re known as cold. It’s an unforgivable atmosphere, and a shiver runs up his spine powerful enough that he takes his hand to rub his own arm to generate warmth. You stand, and he presses his lips into a thin line, watching your every move as you gracefully close the script on your desk with a rare finesse. “You’ve brought a lot of attention to my door, you know that?” Strategically, Stephen remains silent as you leisurely round your desk. His hands begin to clam up again, and he rubs them on his thighs as he stares hard at his lap. A whole new level of intimidation has been reached being this close to you at the center of your focus. He’s unsure how to play this right now, and he finally registers your proximity when out of the corner of his eye he sees you sit on the edge of your desk adjacent to him. Your smooth legs are crossed within arm’s length of him. You fold your arms over your chest, your unwavering gaze making him feel smaller and smaller. Regardless of that, you can tell he’s not going to break. So you increase the pressure. “Have we met before?”

Big, innocent eyes peer up at you, hesitant to face you as he shakes his head marginally. The instinct to question if you’re mad at him dies in his throat. “No, ma’am.” The panic rises in his chest now that he’s denied having met you aloud, but you can’t possibly know about the lies he’s told, can’t prove he told them. Yet when he meets that piercing gaze, there’s a part of him that wants to come clean to you about everything if it means pleasing you. Though there is his job to think about, what would people say about a writer who lies about sexual encounters with the company’s competitor? It can’t be good.

“Is that a fact?” You raise your brows at him, and he nods slowly. “So, can you tell me why others have a different perception on that?”

He shakes his head.

“Mr. Glass, as frustrating as this all has become, you’re not here so I can berate you.” you concede, and at those words he visibly perks up. You reach over, plucking a folder from across your desk that stretches your body out in a specific way that rides your skirt up. Before he knows it, he’s sneaking a glance at the exposed skin of your thigh, how the flesh pushes together. The promiscuous rumors he’s spread about you and his own animal attraction to you has gone to his head because in that very moment he considers how warm and tepid your thighs must be against his ears. His salivating tongue rolls between his lips. He morphs into the posture of a goddamn saint as soon as you slam the folder onto the surface in front of him, he jolts right into it from the sudden noise, as if a chastising ruler had just struck his naughty hands. “I’m prepared to make you an offer.”

“What is this?” The shiny material of the folder falls open, and he inclines forward to read the cover of the thick stack of papers within it.

“An NDR.”

“An NDR? For what?” Stephen plays dumb, but you naturally would assume he’d know nothing about what this deal entails. You give him a silent moment to scan it. Uneasily, as if he’s reading it wrong, he relays the synopsis of one of the passages. “You want… you want to have…”

“Sex.” you reply casually. “You have heard of it?” you joke. “You paint our encounters so colorfully in your little stories, I assumed you were far from a virgin. Or at least well-versed in porn.”

Stephen can feel his throat closing up, shifting in his seat as he engages with you, his mouth in a permanent gaping position, looking for an opportunity to get a word in. “No, no.” He shakes his head, gesturing to himself at his chest. “You don’t understand, I don’t know what you’re talking about- honest!”

“Mr. Glass.” you chide with a playful curl to your lips. Your hands grip the edges of the wood, leaning towards him as if you’re exchanging coy secrets. “Don’t be modest, you’d make a killing in the fictional industry. Whatever are you doing at The New Republic?”

He rallies, sharply inhaling through his nose. “Let me just get out of your hair, and we can forget this whole thing happened—” he pleads, and in an effort to remove himself from the confrontation, he rises from his seat. Your hand gives him a firm push at his chest, planting his ass right back where it belongs.

“Mr. Glass, by all means I’m not keeping you here against your will, but need I remind you: I am not to be trifled with. Forgive me for being indelicate, but why not have the real thing?”

A second of silence passes, and Stephen gulps. You stand, and return to your chair behind your desk. “Think about it.” you tell him, and he takes it as his cue to leave, hastily gathering himself to stride towards the exit. 

[lovefazedforsoundwave]

SG SOUNDWAVE X AUTOBOT!READER NFSW

Warnings: NSFW without PLOT, VALVE teasing, slow fingering IN valve, nicknames, NSFW ,—

His green headband flows as He towers over your aching frame, his green visor glowing in delight. He gives of his usual friendly smirk, and He rubbed circles on your valve. As your transfluid falls out onto his digits, getting them wet, he uses his sonicwaves to get you to react the way you do, with just Mere Waves. His white paint job shining as bright as ever, just like when you first met him.

"—Sound‐wave ahhh...—f-fragg...."

" stop... going.. so slow.. ha-h....you.. ahh... faster! Pleeseee...—"

"woah... dude..i haven't made you overload yet, and you're already moaning under me? How radical of ya."

you moan as he fingers your valve painfully slow, your usual upset, and demeanor broken by the slow but pleasureful moment he's providing you, He speeds up just a bit, which causes tears to come out of your optics, the blush on your faceplates glowing brighter, making transfluid come out slowly out of your valve

"S-soundwave.. Soundwave...f-frag... stop... that hah... enough...mgh—"

"Come on, sugarspark, you can take it...."

"F-fine.. oh..! Too.. much— t-too... much... oh frag—"

"I'm almost done, just a little more.. okay?"

Something about him just made it more delightful and pleasureful than intended, coming undone for your lover every time he interfaces with you or just merely teasing you with his digits. It didn't matter, not to him atleast. No mech could ever make you feel the way soundwave could, he knew this ofcourse, even though you both are on completely different sides of the war, he didn't Care, he still loved you, even in your aching form, you overload from the pleasure, as you lay on his chassis, as your frames twitchs, and optics cry tears of pleasure, as your pink blush stain your faceplates. He leaves your aching form, and he kisses you on the helm. With his glowing Vidor.

This would be a permanent mark he'll never let you forget once you met him secretly again.

[frankiebirds]

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Dylan O'Brien x Reader (Female) Synopsis: Traveling. Any annoying but necessary part of any actors job for the non-traveling party. But the welcome homes? They are oh so fucking sweet. Tags: it's filth with some cute plot, shower sex, kisses, more banter than is reasonable in polite society Rating: Explicit (obviously) Author’s Note: Y'all listen. I know. Okay. It's been a while, and to be honest? I started this in fucking January, but hey. It's here now, right? We're all chill? No one's upset? Good. LOVE YOU!

He’d been away for days, but it felt like weeks. Your feed has been covered in photos of him. The algorithms have you pretty much figured out. You’d been keeping up with his interviews, watching clips of his adorably awkward award acceptance speech. It wasn’t a surprise award, but it didn’t matter that he was prepared for it. He was incapable of being acknowledged for his achievements without turning into the equivalent of a turtle hiding in its shell. You’d have reached out to hold his hand and ground him if you could, but you’d been here. Alone. Missing him. But all that was soon to change.

He was on his way home. Annoyingly, his flight had been delayed, but as you stared up at the JFK arrivals board and it read: ‘Arrived’, you couldn’t help the bubbling up of excitement and giddy nervousness. It seemed like Tony was picking up on it as well because he stood against your leg, pawing at your thigh until you picked him up. He’d been missing his dad and had taken more comfort in your presence since he’d left. 

Your ears perked when the announcement that the baggage from his flight was about to begin its rounds through the baggage claim area. Your phone vibrated in the thigh pocket of your leggings. You gave Tony a quick squeeze before setting him back on the floor and taking your phone out. You smiled at the preview of the text you’d just received before you swiped to see the rest. 

‘Your fine ass better be waiting for me down there.’ 

You smirked before typing out a teasing reply. 

‘Got stuck in traffic a few times but I’m here. I hate Newark btw.’ 

You watched the dots appear and couldn’t help the audible laugh that escaped when you read his next message. 

‘Newark!?’ 

You interrupted him with a quick ‘I’m joking!!!’ before you could see what he was typing next. Then after a brief pause, the dots reappeared before his reprimand. 

‘You know you’re this close to the find-out stage of fuckin around?’ 

‘Oh? What if that’s exactly what I want?’ 

‘👀’

‘Not that I want to rush through the fuckin around part 😏’  

“I’ll be taking my sweet fucking time…don’t worry.”

You startled at his audible reply and your eyes shot up from your phone and met his as Tony pulled at the leash in your hand to reach him. He looked a bit tired but happy. His smile was wide across his stubbled face, quirking up at the corner when you smiled back. 

“Hey buddy!” he said, handing you his pillow before bending down to scoop Tony up into his arms. “I missed you!” he swooned in the adorable baby voice he reserved for his furry son. “Did you miss me too?” He rubbed Tony’s head and then his tummy. “Such a good boy!” 

You smiled at the two of them, pulling Tony’s leash from your wrist and handing it to Dylan. Tony would be stuck to him like glue now. 

“Hey, baby,” he said softly before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips. One just long enough to make you the tiniest bit dizzy and eager for more. 

You blinked away distracting thoughts. “Do you have much luggage?” 

Dylan shook his head. “Just this,” he said pointing at his backpack, “and one bag on the turnstiles.” 

“Should be over there, they just announced it,” you said, taking a few steps toward the baggage claim area.

“Nice!” he said, hiking Tony up onto his shoulder a bit before he followed after you. 

His bag passed in front of him and he hefted it off the belt and popped out the handle and you took it from him so he could focus on the excited ball of fur in his arms. You set his pillow on it and wheeled it behind you toward the cab that was waiting out front. As much as you hated early morning airport runs, you were glad his 4 AM delayed arrival made the whole airport experience a lot smoother. Fewer people. Less traffic. You’d been able to get in and out without so much as a sideways glance from anyone else. 

“Hey you,” he said as he slumped in the seat next to you, Tony taking up the little bit of space between you. 

“Hey,” you said, smiling back at him. 

It was just after 5 AM and you’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep. Originally, he was supposed to have gotten in at midnight and had been scheduled to arrive at Newark, but his flight had been canceled. When he called you to let you know, you were already getting ready to catch the Uber you’d called to take you to the airport. You had a habit of being too punctual. But that also meant that you had a hard time settling and only managed a short nap before you got up to head to JFK. You were a bit tired, but feeling his warmth next to you for the first time in a while was enough of a comfort to fight off the droop of your sleepy eyes. You wanted to see his smile, the upturned tip of his nose, the lopsided smile he sported as he pet Tony. Sleep could wait. 

The drive back to the loft was rather uneventful. Traffic was light, you weren’t sure you’d ever made it the Carey Tunnel faster than you just had. When you hopped out of the car, Dylan gathered his bags from the back of the car and you headed up to the apartment. Home. It was always a comfortable place, but it was warmer when he was in it.

“Smells nice in here…” he said with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment as his shoulders sagged in relaxation. “I missed it.” 

“And I missed you.” You stepped into his space and wrapped your arms around his waist and he quickly pulled you to his chest, looping his arms over your shoulders and pressing a kiss into your hair. 

“You did, huh?” he chuckled, the heat of his exhaled breath warming your skin. 

“Mhm…” you hummed, laying your cheek against his chest. The loft was dimly lit by a single lamp near the sofa in the living room and the streetlights that filtered in through the large windows. It added to the comfort you felt in his arms. 

“I missed you more,” he whispered.

“Impossible.” 

He sighed out a long breath, holding you tight to his chest before he pulled back, his hands clasped around your waist, eyes locked to yours. The warm, honey-brown hue of them sent a shiver down your spine, of course, it didn’t help that he’d begun to work his hands under the hem of your shirt, his fingertips pressing just a little more firmly into the bare skin covering your ribs when he leaned down to kiss you. 

His lips were insistent, the kiss at the airport clearly not satiating the need that had built during your time apart. It was a comforting reminder that his infatuation with you must be at least somewhat comparable to your own. 

You moaned when his lips wandered along your jaw and latched to your throat just below your ear. Not to be outdone and wanting a little audible thrill of your own, you were satisfied at the deep groan that emanated from the back of his throat when one of your roaming hands slipped down between your bodies to graze across the front of his thigh until it was cupping him through his sweatpants. 

“Definitely missed that,” he breathed out across your collarbone before pushing your hair back and sliding the collar of your shirt aside to access more of your skin. 

You laughed softly before it morphed into a half-whispered moan of his name when his teeth grazed along the sensitive skin above your breast. “Fuck…” you breathed, squeezing your hand around him eliciting an appreciative grumble from him that you felt vibrate the aching bit wet skin he’d been sucking on your chest. 

When you released your grip to slip your hand behind the waistband of his sweats, he grabbed your wrist. “Not yet…” he chuckled when he pulled back to see you scowling at him. “Don’t worry,” he said, smiling at you, brushing an errant hair back from the place where it hung in your eyes, “I’m gonna make you scream…” 

You swallowed thickly. 

“I’d just rather not reek like a man who’s known only seat 23A for 10 hours when I do it.” 

You chuckled softly. “Well…” you smiled back before reaching both hands around behind him, “then you better get this,” you squeezed his ass, “fine thing in the shower then.” You gave him a gentle spank. 

He laughed and pressed a kiss into your hair. “Thirsty little monster,” he said, running his hand down your arm. “Join me?” he said, pleading gaze meeting yours. 

You nodded and he took your hand, lacing your fingers together and leading you through the apartment toward the bathroom. The gentle squeeze of his hand in yours sent a satisfying ripple of warmth through your body. Just as you’d made it through the door to the bathroom, you tugged on his hand and swung his body to pin him against the counter of the vanity. 

He let out a soft huff at the gentle impact and smiled down at you as you grabbed at the hem of his shirt and yanked it roughly up over his body. His bare chest heaved as your eyes roved over him, your hands following your gaze across his pecs, through the soft hair, down his abs, settling on the waistband of his sweats before you began to crouch in front of him as you slid them down his thighs to pool at his feet. 

You looked at him from between his thighs and watched as his brown eyes turned near-black, crouching there longer than was necessary to achieve the task, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Fucking tease…” he muttered under his breath before he hauled you up in front of him and stripped your top off, tossing it across the room before he latched onto your throat and bit down. 

While you writhed in his arms, his hands warmed up your back until his fingers worked open the clasp of your bra. He slipped his fingers under the straps and slid them free of your shoulders and let the garment fall to the floor. 

“Mmm…” he mused, looking down at your chest before he leaned forward and captured your lower lip between his teeth and pulled it back slightly before releasing it to kiss down the column of your throat. He cupped you breast and brought his lips to the peak and flattened his tongue in a wide sweep before sealing his lips to suck your nipple until it was taut and pebbled.

“Dylan…” you groaned, your hands tangling into his hair.

He held you against his body and swapped your positions until your lower back was pressed against the vanity. He nipped at your chest before he finally pulled back and lifted you to sit on the counter in front of him. He quickly unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them from you, throwing them into a heap with the rest of your discarded clothing. Then he slotted himself between your thighs. “Shower’s right there…” he titled his head in its direction, “and yet here we are…” he smiled, his fingertips trailing down from your arms, along your ribs and waist until they teased at the elastic of the last piece of clothing you were left wearing.  

“Here we are…” you repeated, looking down your body at his hand as it slipped into your underwear. You fell forward into his chest when you felt his teasing, barely there touch where you were now aching to feel it. Your sharp intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed.

He leaned in and grinned against the skin of your throat before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the tendon running the length of it. “Something wrong?” he teased, still not touching you the way you wished he would. 

“Please…” you whispered. 

The little amused noise he made only frustrated you more, because Instead of giving in to your need, he hooked his fingers around the band of your underwear and stepped back from you to slide them free from your legs. He twirled them around his long index finger before letting them slip out of his hands to the floor. His eyes roamed over you, exposed to him now, perched on the counter. “Fucking perfect…” he breathed, giving his head a slight shake.

You flushed under his attentive gaze, your own eyes catching on the obvious sign of his own interest tenting the front of his boxer briefs. “Talkin’ about yourself?” you finally managed. 

He smiled and shook his head. 

“You should be…” you sighed, “but you could stand to be just a bit more naked…” you pointed to his underwear. 

He laughed. “Fair,” he said before turning around to turn on the shower. He looked back at you, smirking as he hooked his thumbs in the band of his boxers. When he slid them down his thighs the need you felt for him was almost unbearable. He held out a hand to help you down. “Time to get you wet,” he said with a smirk. 

“Too late.” 

His brows shot up his forehead. “Fuck… me…” he muttered

You stepped past him, your hands gliding over his naked torso, and into the shower. “That’s the plan.” 

He followed after and closed the door, the glass quickly began to fog with the steam as you stood under the spray of the faucet. Even though you knew the water was hot, it almost felt cool on your heated skin. Dylan watched you as you ran your hands over your body before he reached out, gripping your hips. He shoved you back against the wall and his lips crashed into yours. 

You reached up clasped around his neck, your hands tangling into the wet strands of his hair, deepening the kiss and tasting the faint hint of mint on his tongue. His teeth grazed over your bottom lip, pulling it taut before he kissed along your jawline. 

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath against your throat.

“Soap’s over there,” you sighed, jutting your chin to the shelf in the corner. 

“Right… showering…” his teasing mouth paused and he pulled back from you. “You’re so fucking distracting…” he groaned, his grip on your hips shifting to your ass before he squeezed it in both of his palms. 

You grinned and wet your lower lip with your tongue. 

“Not helping.”

You laughed before you pushed him away enough to grab the body wash from the shelf and squeeze it onto his loofa. “Lemme help then,” you said, gesturing for him to turn around in front of you, the water now striking him in the chest. 

He didn’t protest, and quickly spun around as you took a small step closer, so your wet body was pressed briefly against him before you began to scrub his shoulders and upper back. 

“Mmm…” he hummed, rolling his neck. 

You tickled him enough to raise his arms so you could wash them both thoroughly. You smiled watching him noticeably relax his shoulders. You washed down his back, sliding the loofa down to the dips in his low back and over his perfect ass. 

“Taking your time back there…” he chuckled. 

“Stop having such a nice ass and maybe I’d make quicker work of it.” 

He shook a bit with a contained laugh. “Noted.” 

You finally relented, taking one last look at his soapy cheeks before you reached around to scrub his chest and stomach, not spending too much time before reaching down and squeezing the loofa at his belly button and letting the soap begin to run down his body. Your free hand followed after it until it was teasing at the coarse hair, brushing just where you knew he was dying for you to touch him. 

“Relentless fucking tease–” 

You cut off his complaint by wrapping your hand around his sudsy length and pumping him just once. “You were saying?” you breathed against his back before you kissed his shoulder blade before you pumped him again. 

He groaned, his head falling forward. “I’ll shut up… just don’t fucking stop.” 

You beamed with pride. It wasn’t like he never begged, but it was far less common than your own pleadings that more frequently bounced off the walls of this room. You rewarded its rarity by picking up the pace with your hand, pinning him against you with the other hand pressing against the front of his thigh, the loofa long forgotten at his feet. 

He stuttered forward, one hand coming up to hold his weight against the tiled wall the other grasping gently at your wrist, not stopping you, but guiding your hand. “Fuck,” he cursed, the last consonant of it coming out shuddered and low.

You were growing more and more impatient with each second. The ache between your thighs was forcing you to squeeze them together for some kind of relief. You moaned in frustration, your pace faltering. 

Dylan squeezed your wrist and stilled your hand. “Someone sounds needy…” he whispered, pulling your hand free of him and swapping your positions. He pressed you back against the wall and grabbed your body wash from the shelf, squeezing some into his palm. 

You watched him warm his hands together, lathering the gel into foamy suds in those gorgeous fucking hands that you knew he was about to touch you with. 

He smirked at the audible sound of you swallowing before he cupped one of your breasts, his other hand snaking around you, his fingers teasing the dimples of your lower back. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his nose nudging your chin up enough for him to run his tongue up the length of your throat before he kissed you. 

Your heart hammered in your chest, your skin pebbled with goosebumps, your body sang under his touch. You’d missed him. God, how you’d missed him. It should be against the Geneva Convention for him to be away from you this long. Torture, pure and simple. But this? This was as close as you could imagine to what it might feel like to be moments from dying of thirst in a vast desert only to stumble into the cool waters of an oasis.

He slid his hand down your body and, without a hint of teasing or pretense, rubbed your clit with the pads of two fingers. 

“Holy. Sh–!” you cussed, only getting half of it out before it devolved into a strangled moan. 

Dylan nudged at your chin as your head lolled in pleasure, his lips skimming across your skin, breathing out praise as he continued to swirl his fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves that had you writhing against him. “Missed the way you sound…” he nipped your neck, “the way you feel…” he groped at your chest again with his free hand, “the way you taste…” he kissed you again, his tongue demanding entry into your mouth. 

His talented fingers had you approaching the edge, that warm feeling building up inside you, that pressure that made you feel like you were electrified. “Dyl… please…” you softly begged when he gave you a moment to finally breathe. 

His lips slipped from yours, your noses touching, both of you panting in the same air. Then you whined when you felt his fingers disappear from you. He stepped back into the stream of water and pulled you with him, kissing you everywhere his lips could reach as the hot spray of the shower rinsed you both clean of suds. 

You looped your arms around his neck and he gripped the backs of your thighs, hauling you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. 

His eyes were wide with the same wonder he somehow still held for you even though he’d had you so many times there was no way to keep count. It made you feel warm and wanted. Desired and beautiful.  

“Could stay in this shower for the rest of my fucking life…” he said as he pinned your back to the wall and bucked up against you, slickening himself in the folds of your body, driving the head of his cock into your already sensitive clit. 

Your eyes rolled back at the contact, your hips rocking forward to meet the roll of his. “We’ll… we’ll get all pruney….” you finally breathed out. 

He laughed against your throat before he kissed, nipped, and sucked what you knew would be an impressive little bruise into your skin. “So be it,” he said, and then he shifted his hips, met your gaze, and slid into you to the hilt. 

The stretch, the fullness, it was almost as shocking now as the first time you’d felt him buried inside you. It was perfection, blissfully indecent perfection. You moaned his name, your fingernails clawing at his shoulders as he began to set a punishing pace, driving up into you hard, rutting his body against yours enough to stimulate you in just the right places, inside and out. 

“Shit!” you swore, letting your head fall back against the tiled wall. 

He fucked into you over and over as you felt yourself edging closer to the brink. You felt your thighs begin to shudder as his pace grew more erratic an unpredictable. 

“So fucking tight…” he groaned before he kissed the valley between your collarbones. 

The strangled need in his voice, the feel of his breath against your skin–all of it coupled with the delicious way the end of his length was pressing into that perfect spot inside you that made you feel like you were losing touch with reality–you were ready. “Fuck, Dyl–” 

He raised one hand to press on your chin enough to force your gaze back to his, the pad of his thumb dragging across your lower lip. 

You moaned and flicked at it with the tip of your tongue. “I’m so close… please!” you begged.

He drove his thumb between your lips and when you sucked it into your mouth, he slipped the hand on your thigh between your legs to rub his finger over your clit just when he drove a final thrust against your g-spot. 

You’d had your fair share of fantastic orgasms at this man’s hands, literally, but this one was up there standing proudly on the podium collecting its medal. It was a rush of pent-up need and desire that washed over you like a crashing tidal wave. Every single cell in your body felt like it was vibrating with pleasure. Your muscles clamped down on him as you felt him join you in his own release. The feel of him spilling into you, the sound of your name falling from his slack lips, making it all so much more intense. It was perfection. Pure and simple. Absolute. Unadulterated. Bliss.

Your chest heaved against his, both of you softly laughing between kisses before you felt him slip free of your body. His hands warmed up your arms before they cupped either side of your neck. 

“I love you so fucking much.” 

You smiled at him, leaning in to run your nose along his throat until your lips were at his ear. “I love you too.” 

He sighed and his lips found yours, but he held back from the kiss long enough to speak. “Hell of a welcome home.” 

[lqveharrington]

Favorite Surprise | A.W.

summary: You and Lana surprise Aaron when you come home from a doctor’s appointment.

pairing: dad!Aaron Warner x mom!reader

includes: fluff, pregnancy hormones, kissing

a/n: i love my blonde husband 🤍

When you were pregnant with Lana, you never felt the need to throw up in the mornings. You always felt light headed and tired, but you never felt the need to empty your stomach. You always thought throwing up was something that a mother had to go through when pregnant, but your case proved otherwise. When you and Aaron were worried about the situation, you went to the girls about it. They assured you that all was well with you and your child and that sometimes women don’t feel the need to throw up in the mornings. You and Aaron thought it was because you hated throwing up in general, so your mind automatically would never do it unless absolutely necessary.

However, you were thoroughly surprised when you threw up this morning the second you woke up. Aaron was shocked to say the least. He immediately came to your side and held back your hair while rubbing your back as you emptied the contents of your stomach in the toilet.

“Love, what did you eat last night?” He pushed your hair out of your face. His eyebrows were pushed together and his eyes were darting across your face. “Do you remember?”

You shake slowly, feeling a headache approaching. You grab on of his hands and squeeze it, feeling for the pulse. “I ate the same things you and Lana did.”

Aaron sighed and kisses your temple delicately, “Maybe it’s just a stomach bug, love.” He thumbed your hand softly as you flush the toilet. “You’re okay, it’s okay…” He helped you stand, grasping at your hands when you stumbled. “Do you want medicine?”

“Yes, please.” You lean against the sink, needing to rinse your mouth of the horrid taste.

As he left the bathroom — albeit checking you once more before leaving — you let your thoughts consume your mind.

It felt so horrible to throw up in the morning, and you were so glad your daughter didn’t have that effect on you when you still carried her. And your headache that throbbed your frontal lobe just made you more nauseous, but there wasn’t anything you could if it truly was a stomach bug. You would just have to let it pass.

Over the next few days, your nausea wasn’t relenting. You threw up more and more each day. Your mind was reeling at the constant battle of getting up every morning just to throw up. Fortunately, Aaron had been gracious enough to take care of business whilst you stayed home from work, trying to get better from whatever was causing your morning sickness.

You would out that the sickness would only last for the mornings and you would be fine the rest of the day. That meant, you were still able to make sure Lana got to school and back. But the mornings would completely tarnish your mood for the day.

For instance, today you were helping Lana with her breakfast when you ran to the bathroom to throw up. Of course — like the sweet angel she was — she brought you a cup of water to help soothe your throat. She didn’t understand what was happening, but she knew if she saw you in a distressed state that she had to help.

“Mommy, what’s wrong?” She sat on the tiled floor beside you, rubbing your hand in confusion and slight distress. “You’re throwing up a lot now.”

You give her a weak smile and run your fingers through your hair, flushing the toilet. “I’m not sure, baby. I think I have to go to your Aunt’s workplace to check it out.”

“Are you sick?” Lana touched your cheek, something she gained from you and Warner when checking her temperature.

The look in your eyes softened at her action, “Maybe.” You squeeze her hand in reassurance. “But right now, you need to get to school, little miss.”

Like always, you drove Lana to school and pressed a delicate kiss to her cheek before waving her off, smiling as her blonde curls bounced with each step. You sighed softly and drove home. You called the girls on the way home and scheduled an appointment after you picked Lana up from school. They told you that your sickness was definitely not something to worry about.

When she hung up, you called Aaron and informed him of your appointment, allowing him to know that you were going to finally understand what was happening.

“Aaron?” You ask softly as the ringing stops, making you look down at your phone.

You heard shuffling coming from his side before he responded. “Yes, love?” He shifted around some more before speaking again. “Is something wrong?”

You put the car in park and sit idly in the leather seat, massaging your stomach carefully. “I made an appointment with one of the girls. I’m heading to their place after I pick Lana up from school today.” You rub your forehead again, “I’m tired of not knowing what’s happening to me.”

It gets quiet between you two before you pick up Aaron’s voice again, noticing the hesitation underlying the question. “You don’t think you’re pregnant, right? I mean, the girls said morning sickness is usually paired with pregnancy.”

The moment he mentions pregnancy, you think about your symptoms. Sure, you had similar symptoms when you were pregnant with Lana, but you didn’t think throwing up would ever be part of it because of your daughter. You spin your engagement and wedding rings, thinking about the possibility. You wouldn’t be mad at the idea. In fact, you would be elated yet heavily surprised.

“I… I don’t want to rule it out, I should say.” You murmur and move to get out of the car. You rub your stomach subconsciously at the thought. “I’ll let you know what happens.”

You and Lana patiently sat on the examination table, waiting for one of the girl’s to enter. She was telling you all about her day in preschool as you ran your fingers through Lana’s blond hair. She was in the middle of telling you what happened during recess when Sara walked in. Well, her godmother.

“Aunt Sara!” Lana giggled and hugged her aunt’s legs in excitement. She tugged on Sara’s white coat, bringing her closer to you. “Will you help mommy feel better?”

Sara looked down at her goddaughter and rubbed her cheek, “Of course. I’ll do anything to help your mommy.”

You mouthed sorry to her at Lana’s unexpected behavior before smiling. “Sorry for the rushed appointment. I just need to know what’s going on with me right now.”

“No need to apologize.” She helped Lana up onto the table and squeezed your arm in comfort. “Sonya said that if our powers don’t work, it might be something different. We have to run a few tests to be sure.”

Although you trusted Sara with all your heart, you were nervous. What if they were dealing with something new and couldn’t heal you? What if the tests say something horrid? What if—

“Have you tried testing to see if you’re pregnant yet?” Sara tapped her pen on the clipboard, reading your symptoms. “Morning sickness is common with pregnancy.”

You shake your head as you look over at Lana who was reading a book far advanced for someone her age. “Aaron thought the same thing… I thought that it couldn’t be because I didn’t throw up when I was with Lana.”

Sara felt your forehead slightly for any odd temperatures, “It’s always a possibility.” She glanced at your daughter before looking back at you with a newfound interest. “Why don’t you take a test here? We’ll run it for you before we try any other testing incase you may be pregnant.”

You flush red, “Uhm…” You watch as she moves to grab a cup and hands it to you. Looking around, you point down to the cup. “Do I just…?”

“Yup.” She gave you a humorous smile. “This could’ve been avoided if you took a test at home, love.”

Lana whipped her head up at the nickname as you moved to head to the bathroom. “Aunt Sara! You can’t call mommy love! Only daddy is allowed to call her that.” She glared at her godmother, making you stifle a laugh as Sara looked at her with wide eyes.

Sara raised her hands slowly and played into Lana’s thoughts, “Sorry, I won’t do it again!”

Your smile softens as you think about your life with Lana and Aaron. You thought it was impossible to love one person so much. But then Lana came into your life and you found it impossible to share your infinite love with the both of them. Truly, your heart was so full when it came to those two. From the second you met Aaron and the second you met your child, you were too far gone to see how madly in love you were with them and how you hold do anything to protect them.

When you returned with the cup, it seemed as if Lana made up with Sara as she spoke about her school day animatedly. You handed Sara the cup carefully and sat next to Lana, letting her climb into your lap.

Sara capped the cup before grabbing her clipboard and smiling at the both of you. “I’ll be back shortly.” She gave you one reassuring smile before leaving.

You ran your fingers through Lana’s blonde hair for a minute before she spoke up, curious to why you handed her godmother a cup of something.

“What is she gonna do with the cup, mommy?” Lana looked up at you with her bright green eyes, playing with your rings.

“She’s going to test if mommy has a baby growing in her tummy.” You respond softly and kiss her cheek. You watch as her mind processes the information.

“Really?” Her eyes shined brightly before confusion took over. “Wait, how would a baby get into your tummy?”

“Well we don’t know if—“

Sara rushed in the room with a smile on her face, handing you a paper. You took the paper gently and read its contents, eyes widening as Lana gave you another curious stare.

“You’re pregnant!”

You nod softly, hand going to your stomach in joy. “Oh my god…” You look up at Sara before looking back at your daughter. “Oh my god, I’m pregnant.”

Lana squirmed in your lap, not liking that she didn’t understand what was happening. “So… There’s a baby in your tummy?”

You nod again and kiss her cheek over and over again. “That’s exactly what being pregnant means, sweet angel.”

The second you parked the car and unlocked the manor’s doors, Lana came running into the halls, her voice echoing through the gigantic space. “Daddy, we’re home!” She giggled as she held a crème envelope in her arms, looking back to see you walking behind her. “Daddy?”

Aaron responds from his office down the hall, eyes darting across the many papers surrounding his desk. “I’m in here, angel!” His eyes snap up as he hears Lana burst through his office doors, practically bouncing off the walls with how much energy she had. “Did you have too much sugar?” He teased as she smiled up at him, leaning back in his chair. “Why are you so hyper?”

“Because mommy—“

You cover her mouth and shush her. You stifle another laugh at her muffled protests, rounding around the desk to press a loving kiss to Aaron’s lips. He smiled into the kiss and chased after your lips when you parted.

Snapping out of his daze, he raised a brow in your direction. “What was that for?”

“The kiss or this?” You gesture to your daughter licking your hand in silent protest for being shushed.

He shrugged as he took your other hand and guided you to sit on the desk in front of him. “Both.”

You blow him an air kiss and sit on the desk, releasing Lana from your hand and wiping it on your sweater. “I’ll let Lana tell you since she was about to spoil the surprise we had for you.”

The young girl immediately climbed into her father’s lap, holding a pretty envelope in front of his face. “This is from Aunt Sara!” Lana looked back at you and giggled, making you shush her again.

Aaron gives you a curious glance before opening the envelope. When he pulled a paper out, he was slightly confused before flipping it over. It was a sonogram. At first he thought it was an old one of Lana when she was still in you before he glanced at the date in the corner and the small dot in the middle of the picture.

Lana looks back at you again as she saw her father’s reaction change. You nod and Lana grins widely, “Surprise!”

You meet Aaron’s eyes as he looks up at you, tears in his own eyes as you say softly, “Surprise!”

Aaron smiles back at you and holds Lana steady in his arms. He moves to stand in between your legs and bends to meet you in a mind searing kiss, making you squeal in surprise. He separates and rests his forehead on yours, “You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant.” You cup his cheek as he kisses you again and again. You hum and continue, “And I definitely think it’s a boy because of how many times I’ve thrown up.”

He chuckles and continues peppering your mouth in kisses, “Oh god, you’re pregnant.” He shuts his eyes softly before opening them again, giving you more kisses. “I couldn’t love you more

Lana pouts as she doesn’t receive attention from either parents. She taps her father’s cheek, snapping him out of his small spell. “Daddy.”

“Yes, baby?” He parts from your lips and adjusts his daughter in his arms, putting her in between the both of you.

She smiles again when she realizes she has both yours and Aaron’s attention. “Did you like the surprise we had for you?”

“My favorite surprise ever.” He kissed her cheeks as she laughs. “I’m so happy. I’m so happy for mommy. And I’m so happy for you, Lana. You’ll be a big sister.”

“I am happy. I am very happy.” She nods as she processes his words before touching your belly softly. “And I think the baby will be happy too.”

more works of aaron warner found here !!

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[nananooti]

YALL NEED TO MAKE MORE STEPHEN GLASS FICS AMD SAM MONROE FICS, PLEASEEE!! IM BEGGING.

💔💔💔

LOOK AT THEM AND TELL ME YOU DONT WANT TO WRITE A WHOLE FANTASY ABT THEM, DONT LIE TO ME