#so maybe I will start hallucinating on the plane

[kimtranssexler]

Gonna be on a plane tomorrow -_-

[muxshwriting]

like father, like son

Bradley Bradshaw x sister!reader

summary: when you crash land, it's not bradley you see coming to save you, it's nick || warnings: plane crashes, head trauma, hallucinating, reader has the callsign hummingbird, broken bones || word count: 1202 || masterlist

"MAYDAY MAYDAY. I'm going down."

Bradley's heart dropped as he watched his sister's plane begin a death spin through the air. Your engine had been washed out sending your plane flying through the air, gradually spinning faster and faster until you couldn't hope to pull it out of the turns.

"Hummingbird, eject." The calm voice of control filtered through your helmet as you reached for the lever between your legs.

Except it didn't move. Your lever was jammed, your canopy wouldn't open. You couldn't eject.

"Negative. My lever is jammed. Repeat, my lever is jammed."

"Try it again. Then go manual."

The worry sets into your bones as you remember your brother is flying with you. "Brad- Roo. I love you-"

Your radio cuts out before Bradley can reply as you start to disconnect everything your connected to, pulling out your comms and removing your oxygen. The plane is still falling to the ground, closer and closer. "Talk to me dad."

Over the radio, Rooster is screaming at you. He's watching your plane get closer and closer to the ground, counting the seconds and waiting to see the parachute release from your plane. But the chute is never released.

"I'm going after her."

"Rooster- No." Maverick began. "They're sending the rescue team out."

"That's my sister Maverick. I'm not gonna leave her to- I'm not leaving her alone."

It doesn't take anymore time for Bradley's brain to decide what he's doing. The moment Bradley's straps were undone, he was jumping from his plane and running to yours. His legs couldn't carry him fast enough as he got closer to the wreckage. There was smoke lazily pouring from the back of the ruined plane that Bradley ignored. He couldn't think about that right now. He clamboured over the wreck, pushing stray pieces of metal out of his way. The cockpit came into view. Except it was empty, you weren't there.

For a split second, the chaos in Bradley's mind calmed as he let himself believe that you had got out in time. But then it returned tenfold. he hadn't seen a parachute deploy and you'd been so close to the ground when he'd looked away. Even if you got out, there's no telling how much damage you'd sustained from hitting the ground.

He screamed your name with a desperation nothing could match. The guttural and heartbreaking sound of a brother who wouldn't survive loosing you. His eyes scanned the landscape until he spotted a bundle of a parachute not too far from the crash. The rope is all tangled and wrapped around the chute as Bradley tear through the fabric and pulls it to let him through.

You're lying in the cradle the chute created. Small cuts and scrapes cover your arms and some of your face from the cords cutting into you as you fell. But what worried Bradley the most was the dripping cut near you temple and the way your leg was crumpled beneath you, bending a way it probably shouldn't. But you're breathing. Your heart is beating and your breathing which means your alive. Bradley hasn't lost you.

Not yet.

He's shaking you awake before his brain catches up and realises that he maybe shouldn't shake someone with a head injury. But you groaned as you came back to consciousness and blearily opened your eyes.

But to you, it wasn't Bradley crouched in front of you, it was your father.

"Dad?"

Your dad frowned, reaching forward and brushed a stray hair behind your ear. "Hummingbird, it's me. It's Roo."

"No. It's Goose. It's Dad, not Roo." Your voice is slurred but you're smiling as you talk to your dad. Or rather who you think is your dad.

Bradley decides it better to let you believe he's his dad than to fight you on this. "Yeah. It's Goose, okay? Are you okay?"

"It kinda hurts."

"What hurts?"

Instead of answering, you sink deeper into delirium. Your smile widens as you push against Bradley's hand that's fussing over you.

"Y/N? Hummingbird, you gotta talk to me. What hurts?"

"Everything." It's a whisper that breaks Bradley's heart. Your smile has dropped, the sheen over your eyes dulled by pain as you seem to come to your senses. "Brad- It hurts."

Bradley's pulling the parachute away from you, unwrapping the cords from your limbs and getting ready to pull you out of the wreck. "I know. But you're gonna be okay. We're gonna get out of here."

"Yeah?"

He can hear the hum of a rescue helicopter growing closer. "Yeah. You're gonna be okay."

"Okay... I love you Roo."

"I know." Brad whispers back. "I love you too Birdy."

Bradley held you close even as the rescue team found you two. He held you even as they checked you for injuries. It wasn't until they had to move you onto a stretcher that he let go but he couldn't leave you alone. He looped his pinky with yours just like you did when you were kids, keeping his hold until he absolutely couldn't. The whole journey back, he held your hand while kneeling at your head whispering anything and everything to you, just so you knew he was there.

He's pulled aside by Maverick as your wheeled down a corridor of the medical centre, finally having to let go. Maverick doesn't let him be deserted for long, pulling him into an embrace that neither wants to end. "She's okay?" He asks just as concerned for your wellbeing.

"She saw Dad."

It's all Bradley says but the mention of Goose sends Mav's head spinning. "She- what?"

"When I found her. It was like she wasn't seeing me there, she was seeing Dad. Mav..." His voice broke as he spoke, the emotions of the last hour pouring out in waves. "I think she'll be okay? Her leg is probably broken, she hit her head but she wasn't majorly hurt any other way."

"Then she'll be okay." Maverick wasn't sure if he was convincing Bradley or himself.

It's hours later that they let Bradley and Mav in to see you, sharing the extent of the damage: a leg broken in two places, a severe concussion, countless scratches and scrapes from the parachute cords and the general rough landing and some bruising all over. But you would be fine. Most importantly, you would be able to fly again.

You stir in the bed, hand twitching as you try and move. Bradley surges forward, holding your hand in his like he had done before. "We're here." He whispered to you. "Me and Mav are here."

"Dad?" It's one word that sends Maverick's heart breaking all over again.

Maverick takes your other hand and presses a kiss to your knuckle. "Uncle Mav's here."

You just smile, squeezing their hands and ignoring the pain. You were back. And maybe your Dad wasn't here but for a split second you could feel him arms around you and you could see him. Maybe he had gone but you still had Bradley and Mav to hold you on the difficult nights and whisper stories into your hair when you couldn't sleep. They would protect you from the storm and never let you go.

[oceantornadoo]

a ghost lives

price came to your door and told you simon was killed in action. three months later, who's that at your door step?

angsty but turns smutty. happy ending dw :)

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

“no.”

you slammed the door, hands shaking. “no, no, no. it’s not possible.” your shaking hands raised to your cheeks, clawing. tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision. the door opened, a dark figure walking through it. you flinched, taking steps backwards until your back hit the wall. you kept shaking your head, murmuring “no, no, no” without sound. you slid down the wall, staring at the man in front of you.

simon was in shambles. the moment he was medically cleared he had jumped on the next plane home, not bothering to tell anyone. he needed to see you, to hold everything he held dear, to believe in good again. and instead of a warm welcome, instead of your customary jump and kiss, you were breaking down. he didn’t understand it. what did he do wrong?

“love? it’s me. i’m home.” he said almost stupidly, unsure of his next move. he closed the door and locked it, and you flinched again. you were sitting on the floor now, tears running down your face with your head in your hands. he set his bag down gently, not wanting to spook you. he ripped off his mask and gloves, tucking them away. you gasped, finally making eye contact.

“you’re not real. you died. my husband died three months ago. you’re in my imagination. please, just go away.” you pleaded, prayed. price had come to your doorstep three months ago, hat in his hands, tears in his eyes. he talked about a difficult enemy and unfair terrain. the only word you heard was “k.i.a.” you died that day, and had been a breathing ghost ever since.

simon was in shock. he had left the hospital so quickly that he had never talked to his unit, didn’t know what they told you. he dropped to his knees, your pain flowing through him tenfold. “i didn’t die, love. i was just lost. i survived for two months in the woods until they found me. i was so badly injured i had to be treated by foreign operatives. price doesn’t even know, i thought they told him. i’m so sorry. i am so, so sorry. i’m here.” you shook your head at his every word. your nightmares were terrifying, but this was the worst one yet. you had never hallucinated in broad daylight. his familiar scent of musk and that cologne you bought him last christmas wafted through the air, punishing you. 

“i don’t believe you. you’re not real. i buried you.” you couldn’t afford to hope. the last months had been about survival, and you had just started eating regularly without bursting into tears, imagining simon cooking his famous meat pie in your kitchen. “casket was empty, lovie. i’m going to touch you now. i need you to know i’m here.” he reached his hand out slowly, like he was approaching a feral cat. you flinched again, breaking another piece of his heart and burying it like that empty casket. his fingertips brushed your cheek and your mouth dropped, tears stopping. 

“si? tell me this is real. convince me.” he maneuvered over until his knees touched yours, bringing you down to earth. you couldn’t believe him. your ghost was alive. there was no way. maybe you had too many melatonin gummies last night.

“look, dove.” he pulled up his shirt, showing you new scars. you had his scars memorized, mapped down to the millimeter, and you would never dream of him being hurt more. he showed you his bandages, moving your fingers over the wrapped bullet hole. he grimaced and you gasped. you would never wish for simon to be in pain, so the fact that he was meant…

you flung yourself at him, shedding new tears. “you’re here, you’re really here. you’re alive.” he nodded against your shoulder. you hear a small meow and drew your head back, looking at riley jr., your ball of fur. she padded over softly and nuzzled her head against simon’s knee, drawing a short laugh from him as he scratched behind her ears. through all of your nightmares, riley jr. had never acknowledged your ghosts. which meant simon was real. which meant he was alive. 

“i’m here.” he kissed your forehead, brushing back your hair. “i’m here.” he kissed between your eyebrows, smoothing the creases there. “i’m alive.” he kissed your tears away, drying your face. “i’m never leaving, dove.” he kissed your nose, finally drawing a small smile out of your. “i’m home.” he kissed your lips, and you kissed back fervently. your husband was home and alive and here. “simon, i’ve missed you. you have no idea. i died that day. i’ve been waiting to join you ever since.” he shook his head as tears rolled down his face. “be ready to wait another 70 years, love. we’re alive.” you tackled him again, pushing him down on the ground. you kissed him with the passion that had been gone for the last three months, cracked and dried out inside you. you climbed on top of him, needing to feel him, needing to believe. 

you grinded your hips against his, drawing out a low moan. “let me inside. let me show you i’m alive.” he said, still not convinced you believed him. you nodded, overcome with love for the man beneath you. he rubbed his palm against your clit, rocking you as you kissed. you hadn’t even thought of sex in the last three months, and it had somehow built up to this. you were instantly wet, always ready for your simon. you felt his hardness underneath you as he bucked his hips. you unzipped his pants, taking him out, long and heavy in your hands. he pulled aside your shorts and you sunk down on him with a low moan. “my husband. my simon. you’re alive.” you finally, truly believed it. he bucked into you, the friction of his clothes stimulating your clit. “my wife and her beautiful cunt, sucking me in. look at you.” there were dried tears on your face, sweaty clothes clung to your body, and your cunt squelched with every thrust. you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. you were so pretty, even when you cried. 

he flipped you both over, fucking into you hard on the floor. his hand wrapped around your head, protecting it from bumping. “i’m back because no one could ever fuck you like this. no one as good as me. say it.” he ordered, needing reassurance. “no one as good as you, si. no one will ever be you.” you moaned, your orgasm building up, with something behind it. he sucked your neck and pinched your nipples, reminding your body of how good it felt to be owned by him. “come on, dove. come for me.” you felt so wet and achy, your emotions out of control. his voice was the only thing keeping you conscious. you felt stuffed, full of your husband. “come on, my dirty girl. let me fill you up. my welcome home gift.” you gasped as you came, a tingling sensation following it. you looked down as you squirted on simon’s cock, so overwhelmed. he came, the juices mixing, trailing down your holes. “gonna give you a baby so you won’t ever leave. we’re never leaving each other, yeah?” he grasped your hair and pulled you in for a kiss.

“never, simon. i’m yours.”

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

Theory: The Wilderness saved its two Antler Queens long before the plane crash

There are signs of a supernatural influence surrounding the girls even before the plane crash. In 1x06, we see a flashback to Lottie as a child. She starts randomly screaming in the back of her parent’s car while they’re at a red light. She is presumably seeing something terrifying that hasn’t happened yet, as she does out in the Wilderness. Her screaming results in her father being distracted and not going when the light turns green, and then a car crash happens right in front of their car; a car crash that Lottie and her parents would have been involved in if it weren’t for Lottie’s screaming (a car crash that likely would have resulted in Lottie’s death).

I think this is the first example of the Wilderness being present before the plane crash. The Wilderness gave Lottie a vision to protect her; to save the life of its future Prophet.

Then, we have the strange (and unlikely) death of Nat’s father. Nat’s dad somehow trips on the stairs and accidentally pulls the trigger of the shotgun right as the barrel was under his chin. How was his hand even on the trigger in that situation?

I’m thinking that, similar to how the Wilderness saved Lottie’s life by preventing the car crash, it also saved Nat’s life by making that freak accident happen. Nat’s life was definitely in danger in that scene with the way her father was charging at her with the gun. I think him tripping and the gun going off was the Wilderness intervening.

This is not the only time the Wilderness may have been with Nat before the plane crash. At the bonfire the night before the crash, Nat has a hallucination of Misty standing ominously at the edge of the party before disappearing. Nat has tears in her eyes when she sees her, as if she’s feeling strong fear or sadness that she can’t explain.

Karyn Kusama, the director of the Pilot episode as well as 2x09 “Storytelling” (the episode where Nat dies), stated in an interview that this scene is extremely important for Nat’s character. In my opinion, this scene is the Wilderness warning Nat that Misty will be the one to kill her one day. Nat also has a flashback to this scene right before she jumps in front of Misty’s syringe, as if she’s realizing what that bonfire hallucination meant now 25 years later as she’s about to die by Misty’s hand. Lottie said that Nat was always the Wilderness’s “favorite,” so maybe it has been with her, protecting her and warning her, all along.

Maybe I’m thinking too much, but I definitely think the Wilderness has been looking out for its two Antler Queens, Natalie and Lottie, as well as priming them to fulfill their roles out in the woods. The car crash incident is the catalyst for a lifetime of meds and treatment for Lottie, and the death of Nat’s father is extremely traumatic for her. The Wilderness not only saved Nat and Lottie’s lives, but it also created a darkness in them through these traumatic events that is necessary to fulfill their eventual roles as Antler Queens.

Unless you don’t believe in the supernatural angle, then you can take this with a grain of salt✌️

[maybege]

Big Dick Energy: The Sequel

Summary: An investigation takes you to a mall but it is Aaron Hotchner who takes you to a lingerie boutique.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4.9k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: explicit sexual content, dom!Hotch, sub!Reader, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, verbal degradation, (semi)public sex, cream pie, then some unexpected fluff

Rewatching Criminal Minds has reminded me of how much I actually thirst for Aaron Hotchner. Other than that, I have absolutely no excuse for this. Read, enjoy, and pretty please leave a comment and tell me what you thought because the possibilities with this dynamic are endless and I am very excited to share it with you! (Though I will need to think of a better title.)

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Looking for unsubs truly was a task that looked different every single time. Sometimes you had Penelope work her magic until you could pinpoint them, sometimes you were in direct contact due to a kidnapping situation. Other times you felt like you were playing spies on a big playground. Like right now.

The team had determined that the most likely spot for him to strike next was at a mall and with the entire sheriff’s office playing dress up, you were posing as unsuspecting shoppers on a calm Tuesday morning.

Hotch had decided you were all to split up into little groups. Reid and Prentiss had grabbed the bookshop as their assigned spot and you were sure Derek was somewhere. But before you could choose which area of the mall you wanted to call your domain, Hotch had instructed that you join him. Pretending to be a married couple. In a lingerie boutique.

For a moment, you thought you were hallucinating.

But sure enough, a few hours later, you and Hotch were browsing through the aisles of lace and tulle and mesh and the most delicate of undergarments you had ever looked at. And his presence did not make it any easier not to drift off into any daydreams.

You hadn’t really spoken after what happened on the plan and you weren’t sure if you were glad about it or not. It is like it had never happened. But it had happened. Because your jaw was still sore and you could still hear the way his voice dropped when he had hit the back of your throat. Or how gentle his fingers had been when it was all over. How he had taken care of you.

But by the time the plane had landed, he was back to his cool professional self and you were back to your pining, needy pile of infatuation you became when he was around you.

“I don’t think he is going to show up,” Emily’s voice sounded in your earpiece, ���He would’ve hit by now. Maybe we should look at other possible targets before we waste too much time here?”

“I am sure pretty boy is holding his tongue about how time in a bookshop can never be wasted time,” Derek teased and you grinned. He was not wrong.

There was a hint of a smile on Hotch’s face and when his eyes met yours he looked much lighter than before. You watched him, waiting for his decision on the matter and he looked so damn calm, returning your gaze with so much ease. As if you did not affect him at all.

Which in turn made it all the more frustrating to feel your body react to him at the slightest stare. Your heartbeat started going faster, your breath heavier and everything felt so much more heightened when he was around.

How hopelessly did you want to crush on your boss? Your body’s answer, apparently, was a resounding: Yes.

But after the airplane incident, you had no more courage left. You had (kind of, if accidentally) initiated the first time with him. Now, you had to calm yourself with the thought that it was up to him to show you if he was interested.

A ringtone brought you out of your thoughts and you flinched. The young woman at the register picked up her cell phone, not even sparing another glance at you before she started off on what sounded like a very detailed retelling of her last weekend.

Hotch cleared his throat and your eyes fell on him, still waiting for his response to Prentiss’s suggestion.

“I agree,” he finally said, standing so close to you that it looked as if he was talking to you and you only, “We should regroup in a bit. I will see everyone at the office in two hours.”

“Sir, are you giving us a break?” not even the subpar sound quality of your earpiece could hide Garcia’s excitement.

“Yes,” he grinned at you, his hand reaching out and hovering over yours. Your breath caught in your heart because how could one man be so handsome? “I am giving you a break.”

The clicks of everyone disconnecting their microphone were only overshadowed by the sound of your heartbeat in your own ears. Hotch’s intense gaze was still on you and you could not shake the feeling that something big was about to happen.

“What’s your size?”

“What?”

“You have been staring at this piece for the better part of an hour,” he stated, “So I think you should try it on. And I think I should see you in it.”

Your mouth gaped open, not expecting such a blatant statement from your boss. Especially not one who was usually so tight-lipped on all things personal. You swallowed harshly, trying to find the right words that did not betray your eagerness but only ended up nodding at him.

You threw a look at the tags of the set he was holding, making an effort not to also stare at how big his hands were and subsequently wonder what his fingers would feel like inside of you.

Hoping he did not notice, you pressed your thighs together in an attempt to take care of the pulsing that was stronger than you would have liked it to be. But the way his gaze dropped let you know he certainly did notice. You swallowed again, “This, uh, this one should fit.”

Hotch nodded once, turning around while holding up the hanger.

“Excuse me, my wife would like to try –“

Before he had finished his sentence (you tried to ignore the strange skip your heart made when he had called you his wife), the cashier motioned somewhere to the back of the shop without even looking at you. Her phone was still pressed to her ear and her face was turned toward the glass front, probably observing the people milling about instead of the (in her mind) boring, business casual-wearing couple that tried to spice up their equally boring sex life.

If only she knew …

You followed the tall man to the little back room where a row of changing rooms was decorated with lush carpet and velvet drapery. If it did not look so plasticky cheap, you might’ve found it luxurious. Much like the showroom of the boutique, the rooms were completely abandoned and so quiet, the blaring mall music seemed even louder here.

Your eyes drifted to the corner of the curtained entrance.

“There are cameras here.”

“It’s not like we are going to do something inappropriate,” Hotch quipped as he strode to the end of the aisle, hanging the piece of lace into the last cubicle.

For some reason that disappointed you.

By the way he knowingly smirked at you, you knew that was exactly the kind of reaction he had wanted from you. And that gave you a little bit of hope.

You were still questioning what you were doing by the time you had reached him. Was this really happening? And what was this anyway? What was he planning?

Aaron tilted his head, his eyes mustering you up and down and just before you stepped inside, his hand landed on your shoulder. It was warm and heavy and you cursed yourself for how aware you were of him. How everything he did seemed to register in your brain as something of the utmost importance. Especially when he was touching you like it came naturally to him.

“You do not have to do this if you do not want to,” he said firmly, his eyes as serious as ever, “And if you ever want to stop, say Iceberg, understood? None of this will ever affect the way I see you at work.”

You nodded briefly, taking a moment to find your voice. “Understood … sir.”

The corners of his mouth quirked up and his hand smoothed from your shoulder to the very low of your back as you stepped into the small space. “Good girl, let me know when you are ready.”

Your pussy practically throbbed at his words but before you could do anything to embarrass you, he had left you alone, the curtain pulled between you.

When you were alone, you were highly aware that he could still hear you. Still, it afforded you a few precious moments to look at yourself in the mirror and realize that holy shit Aaron Hotchner wanted … something with you. And even if you were not sure what that specific something was, yet, you knew it would be more than worth it.

You rushed to get out of your silk dress and shoes, even going so far as to slip out of your underwear. If there was any time to be brazen it was now.

The piece Hotch had so rightly picked out was a mint green lacey two-piece with a kind of corset bra and high-waisted panties. It looked like the kind of thing one might see on a giant billboard or on a suggested Instagram post. It made you feel like you could have the kind of life where you surprised your (non-existent) boyfriend with some new lingerie or where said boyfriend would take you on a weekend trip to luxurious hotels with good food and even better sex.

Putting on the bra was easy enough but looking at that plastic sticker inside the bottoms made you hesitant. You really did not want to put them on without them having had at least one laundry cycle.

“You decent?”

Granted, he had given you enough time to get out of your clothes. But in your half-dressed predicament, you panicked and threw the panties back onto the hanger. There was no way you were going to try them on like this.

“Kinda,” you replied, feeling a little insecure but also figuring that whatever he wanted to do with you, you would not need panties for that anyway.

In the mirror, you could see the curtain moving and you turned around, facing him.

Aaron Hotchner was way too big in that little entrance of the small space. The dark colour of his suit bled into the dark velvet curtain and his hand looked way too big, the way he gripped that little piece of curtain. He was so close, you felt crowded but also like he was not close enough. Like you needed him closer still.

He did not say anything but just looked at you. His silence made you nervous and you shifted on your feet, crossing your arms in front of your chest and the apex of your thighs.

“Don’t.”

You let your arms fall again.

He remained silent but you watched as his dark eyes took you in. His mouth was in a straight line and you could spot the five-o’clock shadow setting in on his cheeks and jaw. You wondered what it would be like to kiss him like this. His brows were furrowed like he was displeased and for a moment you were afraid he was displeased by you. By your appearance.

Then he met your eyes.

“Do you have any idea how much self-control I invest every fucking day not to bend you over my desk and make you come seven ways till Sunday?”

Hearing him curse (You had made Aaron Hotchner curse, nobody was ever going to believe you.) was such a surprise, it took you a moment to register everything else he said.

“I – I am sorry?” you offered.

“Don’t be,” he murmured, taking a step towards you. The curtain fell closed behind him, leaving you two completely cut off from the world. “When I see you like this, it is more than worth it.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “What happened on the plane …”

“… is definitely something I would like to repeat,” he finished your thought, “If that wasn’t clear before.”

“I – I didn’t think you noticed me like this,” you confessed.

“You’re a good profiler,” his finger brushed over your cheek and he tilted his head, “You really did not notice?”

With wide eyes, you shook your head.

He smirked, “Maybe because you were too busy hiding how needy you were.”

He leant forward, then, his breath ghosting over your face and you were sure you had never been more nervous. The scent of his cologne was in your nose, his neck was so close, all you wanted to do was to reach out and loosen his tie.

And so you did.

“I don’t think I was that needy,” you tried to protest before pressing a kiss to his jaw. The stubble scratched your lips but that only added to the excitement in you. A low rumbling sound came from his chest and you gasped in surprise when he pulled you back, keeping his hand on the back of your neck so you had to look up at him.

His mouth brushed yours in a half-kiss and you could see a twinkle in his eyes. “Well, I’d like to think there were some obvious signs.”

He let his fingers wander down your cheek to your neck before they ghosted over the lace of the bra. Your nipples pebbled at his attention, the lace just adding to the pleasant sensation, and his mouth quirked up in that half-smile again. “Like when I could see your nipples get hard when I was with you in that elevator.”

“That – that was one time,” you protested weakly, arching your back so he could touch you more.

He hummed, “Maybe. But all I wanted to do was this.” His thumb brushed over your nipple again and again until all you could do was squirm against him, trying not to beg him to finally fuck you.

But even in your precarious situation, Aaron Hotchner did not make the impression of a hurried man. His eyes flicked from your chest to your face, completely mesmerized by the reaction he got out of you. And you could tell he liked it when he rolled your nipples between his fingers and your knees buckled when he pulled on them.

“Not to mention that time you sucked my cock on a plane,” he reminded you in a low voice and you could feel the heat rise into your cheeks, both from arousal and embarrassment, “I have dreamed of all the things I could do to you. Have you warm my cock in the office, suck my cock under the desk, hell, maybe keep you in bed all weekend long and make you come until you can only say my name …”

There was a very prominent bulge pressed against your hips, confirming these fantasies turned him on just as much as you and that only fuelled your fire. You let your head fall back, your eyes closed as you tried to imagine yourself just as he had described. Sitting in his lap in his office, feeling him inside you while he worked? That sounded like a dream.

Using the exposure of your skin, Hotch dropped his mouth to your neck, kissing and licking and sucking and just making you feel oh so good. It was so easy to just wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself closer to him.

When he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot, you gasped out a moan, immediately trying to cut the sound off for fear of the chatty cashier hearing you.

His hands continued their exploration of your body and landed on your ass, effectively grinding you against his cock. Your core pulsed, everything in your body thrumming with desire. You knew how big he was, you knew what he looked like and how heavy he was. The sheer idea of feeling him inside you made you feel absolutely shameless.

Which meant there was still one thing you needed to address before there was no going back.

“There are still cameras here,” you whispered against him, panting when he rolled his hips against yours again. Gosh, he was big.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, just as quietly, and without hesitation, you nodded.

“Then I will take care of it.”

And that was all he needed to say.

Feeling encouraged, you let your hands wander and cupped him through the front of his pants. You could feel the weight and the size of him and a new wave of wetness rushed down your thighs.

Hotch groaned low in your ear, a sound that was even better when he made it just for you. His hand landed on yours, making you massage him through his clothes.

“You were so good for me on the plane,” he murmured in your ear, his other hand kneading the soft flesh of your ass, “Felt like a dream come true having you on your knees for me.”

You did not say anything. Both because you could not say anything and because you wanted to hear what he had to say. Hotch was always such a closed-off person, to hear him speak to you so tenderly and so openly … It made you feel like you needed to keep it close to your chest and cherish it.

“Always had the suspicion there was something bubbling under the surface of the good girl you were pretending to be,” he continued kissing his way down your neck until you could feel his teeth tugging on the bra strap. “But there is nothing quite like finding out you were a good girl all along … but only for me.”

He straightened up to his full height. You had always been impressed by how big of a man he really was (and how good he looked in a suit) but now it seemed even more intense.

Because Aaron Hotchner’s dark eyes were staring right into your soul when he asked, “And you are a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

And then he kissed you.

It was passionate and hard and he dominated the kiss so easily, it just made you melt into him even more. His lips were soft and a contrast to the stubble you could feel on his chin. His teeth tugged on your bottom lip, then, and you gasped, following him until he let it fall away.

He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your neck, “Now put your hands against the wall so I can inspect that little pussy. I bet you’re already wet for me, hm?”

Never in your life had you moved so fast.

And he was right, f course. When his fingers rubbed over your cunt, you were embarrassingly wet already. But you could not care less. Not when you were about to be fucked by the one man you had been pining after for months.

You squeaked when a spank landed on your ass, “I’m gonna buy this and so much more just to see you wear it,” he growled, his fingers rubbing over your folds, seeking out your clit, “Just to fuck you in it.”

“Will you fuck me now?”

“That depends,” he murmured, pushing a single finger inside you, “Can you be quiet for me?”

You bit your lip so hard, you were half-expecting to have drops of blood running down your chin. The truth was you did not know but you knew you could try for him. You would try everything for him.

Your eager nod was rewarded with a kiss to your shoulder blade and his fingers went back to circling your clit before dipping inside you again. He hummed, clearly pleased at that and you arched into him, wanting to feel more of him.

The man behind your continued playing with you for what felt like an eternity. Your inner thighs were smeared with your slick, you were sure, and when he pressed his crotch against your ass, you could feel his hard-on distinctly.

“Fuck,” he hissed, adding a second finger as he thrust inside you, “Can you feel how your little pussy is gripping me? It is so so empty without someone filling it, isn’t it?”

“Feels so good, sir,” you whimpered, “Please don’t stop.”

“Oh, stopping is the last thing I am going to do,” he chuckled, his lips brushing over your lobe, “Don’t worry, I am going to take care of you. After all, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t take care of my little whore?”

His words echoed in your mind and settled in your core. He did not say it like an insult, he said it like an endearment. Like he was praising you. And you craved it. You wanted him to call you his, you wanted him to call you anything he wanted to as long as you would be his good girl. Because you know, you just knew, he would reward you for it.

“You really just need an older man to make you come on his cock, huh?” he asked you, his cold belt buckle digging into your ass. His fingers pulled out of you and you pushed your hips back, trying to keep him inside you for as long as you could, the loss of his touch making you whimper.

But then you could feel him undoing his zipper and the anticipation built in your core.

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, pushing out your ass, “’m your whore, sir.”

Your walls squeezed around nothing and, then, finally, you could feel his hand on your inner thigh, pushing your legs apart.

“Deep breath, it’s gonna be a big stretch,” he warned you, rubbing the tip of his cock over your folds. The tingling sensation spread from your core all throughout your body until you could feel it in the tips of your fingers.

Said deep breath get caught in your throat when he pushed inside you.

Hotch was big. You had known that already. But there was a difference between feeling him make your jaw go sore and feeling your walls stretch to accommodate him. He went with slow, small thrusts at first. The kind that allowed you to get used to his size and the kind that made you want him to go deeper and faster and just –

“More,” you did not recognize your own voice, “Please, sir, more.”

“You’re greedy,” he replied smoothly, his hands gripping your hips, “Begging for more as if it isn’t enough having your boss fuck you in public.”

You tried to hold back the whimper but did not quite succeed. But it was sheer impossible to remain quiet when he thrust inside you with control and such precision it made your toes curl. He was large and hit a spot you had not even known existed.

It was even better than you imagined. And you had imagined it a lot …

“C’mon smile into the camera for me,” he angled your head up, face to face with the lens of the camera in the corner. Your adrenaline spiked and despite wanting to pretend like it did not turn you on that someone could just see you absolutely getting wrecked, you could not control the way your walls clenched around him.

“Thought as much,” Hotch rumbled behind you, one hand coming around to your front and finding your clit again, “Got myself the perfect little cock slut.”

“’m gonna come,” you gasped when he tapped your clit, “Sir, please, I –“

“Please what?” he mocked you, his hips snapping against yours, “Don’t forget your manners or I’ll have to punish you.”

The thought of him punishing you almost pushed you over the edge but Aaron Hotchner was right. You were a good girl …

“Please, sir,” you gasped, “Please let me come. PleasepleasepleaseIwannacome –”

He quickened his pace, his cock driving into you again and again while his fingers circled your clit. His lips pressed against the spot under your ear and you pushed back against him, trying to meet his thrusts, trying to get closer to him.

“You can come,” he whispered, his big hand coming up to cup your jaw, “You can come on my cock, right now.”

“You too,” you gasped, trying everything to hold on to that feeling that was just out of reach, just beyond that cliff that you were hurling towards, “You come, too, sir, please, in-inside me.”

“Fuck,” he cursed behind you, his hips stuttering, “You really want that? Want me to fill you up with my come? Think that would tide you over for a while until I can have you sitting on my cock again?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded eagerly, your fingertips flexing against the wall, barely listening to a word he was saying because it only took a couple more thrusts until you came around him.

Hotch swallowed your moan with a kiss and you gripped onto his forearms, anything to keep you standing and somewhat lucid. Everything was a blur and your body felt like it was convulsing and relaxing at the same time. You had never come so hard in your life, you hardly even noticed when he groaned into your ear, his hips stilling against yours as he filled you up. Just like he had promised.

Your heart beat so fast in your chest, you could hear it in your ears and you were pretty sure Hotch could hear it too. But he did not comment on it. Instead, his hand went from your jaw to your chest, softly grazing over the green lace.

“Good fucking girl,” he rumbled, “Knew you would be such a good girl for me and only me.”

Hotch kissed you again, softer this time, and you allowed yourself to properly breathe. “You okay?” he asked you quietly, his hands smoothing over your hips, “Was I too rough?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s just … it’s a lot,” you whispered, closing your eyes to try and slow your breathing, “And – and we need to be back at the station soon.”

“That we do,” he agreed and carefully pulled out of you. You winced at the sensation, feeling his come dripping down your thighs almost immediately. Before you could even worry about leaving any evidence on the carpet, you heard some rustling and then a soft handkerchief was at the mess between your legs, cleaning you up.

You turned your head, finding Hotch kneeling behind you with that furrow between his brows again.

“You look angry a lot.”

You did not know where your words had come from but hell, you might as well run with it now.

The dark-haired man looked up at you, looking unusually amused. “I suppose it might look like that to some.”

When he pulled away and you felt somewhat taken care of, you turned around and grabbed your clothes. Hotch remained standing there with you, his

“Then what is it, really?” you asked him as you slipped your dress over your head. The fabric covered your vision and when you could see again, Aaron was standing again, looking at you with a genuine smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

Damn him for being so handsome.

“I am focused,” he replied, his hand landing on your hip to support you as you slipped back into your shoes. Your hand landed on his forearm, his hand gripping your elbow, keeping you steady.

“Focused on what?”

“On you.”

Your hand froze on his arm. “Oh.”

Suddenly, he was closer again. Standing chest to chest, you could not help but look at his mouth because it was right there and his lips looked so soft and what if this was the moment? What if you could kiss him again and –

“Yeah,” he echoed, his nose brushing against yours, “Oh.”

His mouth ghosted over yours and you closed the distance, kissing him just as softly as he had done before. He did not wait to reciprocate and with his hand still under your elbow, he pulled you flush against him.

He opened his mouth but in a cruel twist of fate, his phone rang and he pulled away. An annoyed exhale left him and you could feel the disappointment when he picked it up. “What’s up Morgan?” he asked, his eyes still on you. his thumb brushed back and forth on your hip and you smiled, feeling elated and excited and so … so …

“Yeah, we’re on our way,” he said sharply, “I thought of getting us some lunch. Have the others text me their order and I will pick it up.”

And with that, he ended the call.

“Picking up lunch, huh?” you teased him, “How very generous of you, Agent Hotchner.”

“What can I say,” he smiled, opening the curtain for you, “I am in an exceptionally good mood today.”

*

When you returned to the main room of the boutique, the woman was still talking on the phone, not paying any mind to you. Relief filled you at the realization that she really had not noticed. Thank goodness because while it was the experience of a lifetime, you would have surely died of embarrassment.

Hotch’s hand burned at the low of your back but this time it did not cause any anxiety. This time it felt like both of you knew it belonged there.

He led you to the register, the woman only interrupting her conversation long enough to glance at both of you, looking very unimpressed.

“My name is Agent Hotchner, FBI,” he said, showing his badge, “We are on an active investigation. I am afraid I need to confiscate your security footage from the last 12 hours.”

“Also,” he added, putting the two-piece on the counter, “We would like to purchase this.”

[reidintoit]

all you had to do was stay - j.m.

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: in which the pogues have been stuck on poguelandia for a couple weeks, and not everyone wants to leave when help arrives.

warnings: angst, unplanned pregnancy

word count: 1.2k

It had been almost two weeks since getting stranded on the island, or Poguelandia, as JJ ever so generously decided to name it. 

In that time you were impressed at how far along Poguelandia had come. John B and Pope had become experts at hand fishing. All while JJ had done an impressive job of building a shelter. It really wasn’t anything too fancy, given the resources, but having a place to shield yourself from the weather was a win in your book. 

The only prominent downside was having no soap to properly bathe with. And that we all only had one outfit, which was also in dire need of some soap. 

Another inconvenience we were reminded of was when Sarah got her period, then Kiara almost hours later. Cleo wasted no time in bragging about not having a period to worry about thanks to her IUD. 

-

“Here-” you broke the conversation, “I have a couple of tampons that have dried out since the swim. Not the most hygienic thing, but it’s this or nothing.” 

Kie took one from you without hesitation, while Sarah visibly looked revolted at the thought before giving in. “Absolutely disgusting, but thanks Y/N.” Sarah thanked you, walking in the opposite direction of Kie.

“Shouldn’t you keep one for yourself?” Cleo implored, causing you to tense up. There’s no way she knows I’m late. Does she? No. 

“Oh, uh-no. On the shot, probably won’t get mine for another month or so.”

The truth is, you were late. As in almost two weeks late. Before this, the longest had been maybe three days. But this was different. You were away from home, obviously stressed to the max. Your period was most likely just off due to your stress. And not the unprotected sex you had.

-

You could tell that being away from home was starting to weigh on everyone’s minds. Kiara feared her parents already reported her missing. Sarah didn’t know where Ward might be, but it was obvious she missed having a house to go home to. Pope knew his dad must be worried sick. John B wondered if somehow Big John returned while he was gone. 

You, JJ, and Cleo seemed to be the only ones who didn’t care to go back. 

JJ hadn’t seen his dad in months. Not since him and Kie helped get him off the island. He didn’t seem too distraught about being alone, considering you had stayed over almost every night at the chateau since you two started dating. 

While your parents were still around, you knew they weren’t missing you. Or noticing your absence, really. Your parents had never been abusive, they just didn’t care about you.

So, at the moment, being hundreds of miles away with your best friends felt like paradise. That is until Pope and John B noticed a plane flying above on their daily fishing trip.

-

“Guys! Hey- Come look!” John B’s voice suddenly pierced through your ears, causing you to look up from the fire pit that you were currently digging in, attempting to build the flames higher.

“What man?” JJ asked, pushing up off the ground from his spot next to you. You raised an eyebrow at whatever John B was going on about, watching him struggle to catch his breath while running up the beach. 

“There’s a plane overhead! Look!” 

As the three of you collectively looked up, you saw it almost immediately, slightly surprised that it wasn’t just John B hallucinating. “Holy shit!” JJ shouted back, sharing JB’s excitement. 

“Come on, everyone’s waving it down by the landing strip!” John B continued and started running back towards where he came from. JJ looked down at you, who had gone back to digging in the fire pit. 

“Hey, babe. Come on- we have to get their attention!” 

“You go, I’ll stay here and start gathering some things.” JJ nodded and leaned down to quickly place a kiss on your forehead before running down the beach after John B.

Fuck. fuck. There was no way you were going back to OBX. Life had been so much better since getting here. Going back to a family that hated you sent a chill down your spine at the thought. Especially if you really were pregnant.

You noticed the plane turning around as you stood up from the pit, then JJ running back towards you, to tell you the good news you presumed. 

“Y/N! They’re getting ready to land. Let’s go!”

You shook your head with your back towards him, not realizing that you were frozen in thought staring at the fire you finally had started. 

“I’m not going J..” you whispered, unsure if he heard you. He must have, because you felt a gentle grip on your wrist, urging you to turn around. 

“What? Babe, look at me.. please?” JJ pleaded, sounding defeated and confused at your sudden decision to stay on the island. You dropped your head in defeat, “I can't. I-I can’t go back, okay? I don’t want to.” 

You felt the hand on your wrist release as your boyfriend maneuvered around to stand in front of you. You opened your eyes to see JJ’s face full of concern as you bit your lip, salty tears rushing down your face. 

“Baby.. I understand.” JJ reached out to wipe away your tears, feeling the pads of his fingers across your cheek. “I don’t want to leave either. This has been awesome.” 

You harshly pushed his hand off of your face in response. “No, you don’t understand! I’m late..” pausing to take a breath, “I don’t know if I’m pregnant, obviously there aren’t any tests here, but I know I can’t go back. My parents.. they-they already are so disappointed in me. I’m free here.”

JJ was quiet after listening to you explain. He was disappointed in you for sure. You wondered why he wouldn’t just say it. Blame you for being irresponsible and potentially getting knocked up. You deserved it. 

Tears started pooling up again as you turned away from JJ, who still hadn’t moved a muscle. “Wait, Y/N.”

“Just leave.” you begged, voice cracking.

“I’m not... Y/N, fuck!” he shouted, wrapping his arms around you and turning you back to him. “I’m not leaving you here. If you do happen to be pregnant, I’m going to be by your side every step.. Okay?” 

You rolled your eyes, looking down at the sand between the two of you. “You don’t want that.. you’re just saying it.” 

JJ cupped your cheek, tilting your head back up towards him. He studied your face as you took a deep breath, opening your eyes to see him smiling at you. “No fucking way Y/N. Just the thought of having a mini you running around makes me so happy.”

“Really?”

“Really baby.” JJ pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Now, please, come home with me?” 

You nodded in agreeance, smiling before you felt his lips on yours. There was nothing you wanted more.

[juchily]

isekai fix-it au part 1

A/n: switches from third to first person, all gender friendly (no pronouns) but presumed fem because reader joins the team, other than that all people friendly (unless you don't like Chappell Roan's music and hate the idea of being born in Chicago to the point you won't read something where its just like that...), angst at the end, a lot of existential philosophical thoughts

Sorry, but if *I* got sent into the 1990s I would literally steal Femininomenon because that shit is gasssss this is the only pop song I can have on repeat forever not even Joyride compares i fear

One second reader was in their home town of Chicago at the Lollapalooza Chappell Roan set, circa, and next thing they know they're in an oddly highly populated mall listening to the low hum Madonna through upheld speakers

Odd, very much odd. What's odder, they think they might have just seen their favorite sapphic cannibalistic TV show protags

The spritz of water coming from the water fountain in front of them lowers with the pressure of the nice looking decoration and, yep, that looks like the shaggy bleached wolf-cut of Natalie "something catholic middle name" Scatorccio

Oh my fucking god. That's defiantly the constantly mewing face of Sophie Thatcher. *Wow*. They quickly ask themselves in their noggin, 'what harm would it be if I *just* asked if they were friends of dorothy...?' feeling the silent creep of desperation creep up in their warming with flush hands

oh God, they must be staring—

wait they have so many questions, first of all, what's going on?! Is this real? Would real mean canon compliant? What's even going on, are they dreaming? Are they hallucinating? Is life a simulation and it got fucked up to finally failed and Yellowjackets is reality??? To much thoughts, too little time— if this is in any way real, do this mean Lottie 's hallucination was based off of this?

They can't confirm at all since they have half the head to look away, what could be worse than to have the very real looking Yellowjackets look at *you* as if you're a weird starer and not an omniscient not-god?

You smell some fresh ass Auntie Anne's and your stomach rumbles from the shitty concert food you bagged in... your world (would be the term I guess) but then you think more about it and realize your money and pocket change are probably dated for a date that has yet to happen which will definitely bring up some questions and problems with getting the pretzels.

After the initial excitement they sort of wander around Wiskayok, it's far different than Chicago, although you figure that's because it's in the northern part of New Jersey, the south side is probably the more Chicago-ee part

Really it was just a bunch of walking, you explored the very much fictional but now real Wiskayok, and really it left you with a lot of time to ponder (read: overthink)

By nightfall you were, yes you guessed right, still in this damn town, and you were starting to get worried about not returning home, because you don't know what's going on, but if we humour the situation as an isekai, does time work the same? If you spend a day here does it equal two years in your world?

You could feel yourself getting a headache at the thought(s), you she already wandered around the overwhelmingly small town and checked out the school at a reasonable distance, you think you spotted the trailer park where Van and Nat live

You settle in the library for a bit, thinking 'fuck it, I don't have anything better to do, maybe I can get some sort of idea about what's really going on', and next thing you know you're looking at a calendar reading February 3rd, 1997. Yeah, very much not 2024...

But this peaks your interest, obviously the crash hasn't happened since you saw the girls together eating Chinese food at the mall, but you're here about four or five months before the plane crashed. And a little seedling sprouts in your little head

But still, nighttime fully arised and you were locked out of the library. And you don't exactly know where to go, it's not like you have a place to go. So you find a nice bench near a fairly shaggy side of the town— cracked, chipped sidewalks, weeds growing out of the sides and heeps of uneven dirt and stray cigarette butts littering the crevice where the sidewalk and the grass (if you could even call it that) meet, and you can distantly see the trailer park about a block or two down to the left– huddling up in a bean against the shitty metal arm

Hey bright side, at least you're sleeping on a bench during an age where they didn't sleep proof/devoid benches of their damn purpose

Of course unbeknownst to you in your shitty but albeit deep sleep, a certain red head on her way home in her worn green pickup truck driving home from a hookup with a certain curly haired girl noticed you, just a glance and yeah, okay young homeless person on that bench

When you woke up, you found yourself with a sore back met with pollen straight to the nose. Very much not your time

Okay... Well there's no way this is real right?

And so for two more days you wandered around town, slept on the bench, scrambled quick scraps of food either from the local food bank, one of the various churches, or by doing an odd job for a diner

And then it sort of settled in on you. Is this *permanent?* Uh... What the fuck are you supposed to do? This feels *very* real

You don't really know what else to do, at some point you happen to take a walk and pass by the school right when soccer practice is happening, and you have to say that no TV screen could compare to the sight

I mean, you didn't really have much going for you back 'home' so to say, no partner, no job, no hobbies you actually stuck to, no sports, nada zilch zam, it was school, go home, and sleep. That was your routine

So with a sign you figured if this might be long term you should try and conjure up a fake identity and apply to the school, which wouldn't be the easiest thing to do, but what's the harm in it? At least then you have something to do

About a dozen and a half library books later and a few very interesting conversations you were applying to Wiskayok Public School under the guisse of being a foreign exchange student (God bless your basic French and/or Spanish skills), telling them that your papers had yet to come in and switch to the American database (suspend your disbelief, damnit)

And so you found yourself taking Calculus again despite having that in the real world during your first semester, so you did well

But anyways, you had a class with aforementioned redhead. So Van was most interested when the homeless person is suddenly in the school, more so that they're a foreign exchange student

Even more weird, apparently Taissa (her hookup who Van of course is starting to have more than just hookup feelings for), saw the same damn homeless person with a pile of books at the library. Soccer, survival, psychology, health and wellness, the Dutch Famine of WW2 for some reason? So wow, they must have so many hobbies!

More interestingly so was when this same person (still sleeping on that bench as far as Van is sure) is applying for tryouts on the team. Late. Like, months late. But, with a hot headed attitude and determination, and surprisingly quick thinking skills with both their head and feet, they managed to impress the coach.

States comes around and for *some* reason this homeless person (to Van that is, no one else knows they're technically homeless) is... bombing? No one wants to accuse them of intentionally trying to make the team lose (besides maybe Tai...) but like... They slide tackled Jackie when she had the ball?

And sure one of the opposing team were close too, maybe they just overshot trying to go for the opposing player, but they've seen you play better than that.

Things happen and at some point you get benched by Coach Martinez and you have the absolutely worse panic attack of your life, you don't know what to do, you planned to just make the team lose states so that they never board the plane in the first place

But what are you supposed to do benched? And so you can't bring yourself to watch on the bench, walking to the locker rooms with tunnel vision and a bp that borderlines the beginning of hypertension.

You slide down against your locker that's in the corner of the room, knees to your chest and arms wrapping around your head as you try to stabilize your breath and shaky thoughts.

What now, what do you do? This is permanent is it not? Are you ever going home?

Your heart is beating up your spine, you can feel it in your chest, your throat, your head and it feels like your skull will split in two and you just want to scream and shout because what can you do now?

Do you go on that plane? Do you suffer too? What do you do? What can you do what can you do what can you do?

You put this pressure on yourself in the first place and yet you can't relieve it. Tears of frustration and horror fill your eyes and your body shakes with silent, utmost quiet sobs that make no sound but shake your shoulders.

And you hear the cheering outside and you know the Yellowjackets won.

Maybe you should have just busted Jackie's kneecaps so she couldn't play

But then maybe Shauna would have taken over and made the winning goal.

Or Taissa would have tackled a player on the opposing team and stolen the ball and made a pass to Nat so she could make the winning goal.

To many questions, too many variables, infinite situations. It's not something a finite being can predict or control.

You wipe your eyes, pulling your way out of the locker rooms to sneak away before they come into the locker room.

@kings-paintbrush @rougeclasslover @acidthecorvid

[the-evil-lovable-simp]

Caine x sand bag clown doll reader

Part 1

Tw: no mouth

Pop! And there you were, you landed flat on the ground after appearing in mid-air, you opened your eyes, lifting your upper half, seeing your hands were now bean-like shape, you were about to open your mouth to gasp until nothing happened and that's when you noticed you didn't have a mouth or a nose, well you could still breath, somehow. Plus you never really used your mouth.....you think? Oh wait eating how could you do that? You had got up and dusted yourself off, just noticing your outfit, a black and white clown outfit with a pointy hat and a ruff, mmmm maybe you were a mime? You started to pull at the part of your face that didn't have a mouth anymore seeing if that would change anything...nothing, oh well. You started walking around all bouncy, being able to hear your bean-shaped feat patting on the hard-tiled floor. You stop as you hear voices, you head in that direction. The voices got louder so you hid behind a colourful box to see. You saw someone throw up and then saw some guy with teeth for a head watch in shock, he put his hands on his hip.

"Woah! Clean up on aisle U!" he exclaimed and if you had a mouth you would've laughed. Then a floating bubble came out of his hat and said,

"I'm on it boss!" and then proceeded to lick the puke up.

Teeth guy watched in disgust.

"Why are you like this?" he asked looking down at the bubble. The little person who looked to be about a few inches shorter than you and also looked like a jester, also the one who threw up, finally regained themself.

"Wait wait," they reached out clutching their head, "Was that an exit door I saw out there?" they asked looking behind their shoulder, then looking back.

"Is that a way to leave?" she asked desperately.

"What exit?" a purple bunny said as he pulled another person's arm off, and used it as a back scratcher.

"If there was a way to leave, I'm pretty sure we'd have all left by now," He then got strangled by the arm, and the person he stole it from, who had a triangle for a head, started speaking.

"Yeah, what are you talking about?" This caught the teeth guy's attention.

"U-uh I" he clears his nonexistent throat and you bob your head up and down to show as laughing.

"I assure you, there is no 'magical exit door'" he does air quotation marks with his fingers. "You're probably experiencing..." he flew up into the air.

"Digital hallucinations!" he announced as the words floated above his head all weird and wiggily. He then floated down.

"From your mind's transition to the digital plane," he said. You then started to get bored and came from behind the block, making more tapping sounds with your feet, with your arms flailing behind you, catching everyone's attention. You then stopped when you heard a certain someone say something rude, turned and looked at the purple rabbit, You stared at him, without blinking and not breaking eye contact, his smile suddenly disappeared and he looked a bit uncomfortable.

"What is that thing?" you heard the triangle person say, how ironic, you rolled your eyes.

"Aww, they're so cute!" You saw a ragdoll say, you acted more kindly towards that and closed your eyes to show a smile and waved. You looked back at teeth guy and saw him with a giant machine with the word, Pomni on it.

"Huh? Uh, s-sure. I think I just-" the jester said being cut off.

"Gadzooks, you're right Ja-" Teeth guy said but then saw you.

"This one's gotta be an npc-" The purple rabbit started to whisper to the doll.

"Oh my! Another human, and so shortly after Pomni!" He floated over to you, looking down at you, at first it made you a bit uncomfortable but you got over it.

"And what is your name?!" he asked waiting for an answer. You stared up at him blankly with wide eyes and unintentionally threatening pupils. He got a bit anxious, looking around awkwardly. Then you suddenly dashed in the opposite direction, tapping your feet along the way.

"Ah-".Teeth man made a noise of surprise as you heard the bunny laughing in the background.

Soon after the rabbit ran after you,

"I wanna see where this is going!" he said. Not long after the rest of them followed behind. Pomni had run somewhere else and Caine was left there, he was miffed, he had a whole adventure planned and everything. He then flew in the direction everyone went.

[panvnsleake]

random hfjone aus ill probably never make content about (I just noticed a bunch of these are mainly about betrayal. whoops)

bassy, after being treated as a living being on the plane and then being disregarded like nothing by jess (she probably got another instrument or something), throws a riot and teams up with whippy creamy (who conveniently got bought by jess a bit ago) to overthrow humanity. except for jess. bassy keeps her around because she feels extremely betrayed but still loves her

one of the S3 contestants (probably Owen because. more angst :3) ends up in la salle d'attente and meets airy. They become good friends and explore universes together using the radio. Airy becomes a lot more empathetic and emotional too. in one of their multiverse trips they stumble across Airy's world and find liam. Liam is of course super pissed at airy and lashes out at owen for even interacting with him in the first place. I think it's best if you use your imagination from here guys :3

circle learns about what Charlotte did and has a crisis because he looked up to her and she's actually nothing like he thought she was. OR circle connects the dots and figures out all wounds heal when someone dies and gets revived. so of course he kills charlotte (with good intentions but still). Charlotte becomes a lot more distant from circle onward.

bryce hallucinates about Stella and Liam a lot. These hallucinations somehow tell him how to escape and he gets everyone out of the plane. yay for braces !!

julien starts a cult revolving around liam. I mean he did kind of save him from being stuck in la salle d'attente forever so yeah. also he murders someone who sounded VERY similar to airy (maybe like a brother of his or smth)

stone is actually evil and he leads Liam through a path where he KNOWS he will fail to stop airy and will end up worse than how he would've ended up if he just. had stayed on the plane forever

you're free to do something out of any of these ideas if you want,,,it'd be nice if you give me credit for the idea tho. I like being credited :3

also please give me a word or phrase to base the next chapter of dasani bottle and green bean off of because my brain is NOT braining for the fanfics. like I want to write but I don't know WHAT. UGRHHRHHR

[thexsanctuaryx]

ʚ♡ɞ I'll Follow You Into the Dark ʚ♡ɞ

{ CHAPTER ONE }

➳ NEXT CHAPTER

Summary: Marc and Emma arrive in the same wing of the same mental hospital at the same time. Pairing: { eventual } Original Character { Emma Harper } x Marc Spector, Emma Harper x Steven Grant, and Emma Harper x Jake Lockley Contents: mental hospitals, psychiatric hold, first meeting, angst { I guess? I don't know what else to call it. } Warnings: severe mental illness { psychosis, hallucinations, depression }, main character is actively in psychosis, I've done my best to write it in the least triggering way but there are a lot of heavy themes that will take place in this series, so forewarning. Marc is a danger to himself here but it's only really alluded to in this part. mental hospitals. triggering themes related to the aforementioned. Author's Note: I recently finished reading Tear Down My Reason by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction and it inspired me to work on an idea I've been playing with about Emma and the Boys meeting while both in a mental hospital at the same time. I wanted to write a series that would help other people with severe mental illness feel seen and heard as there really AREN'T works out there like this. This series is being written with a lot of love and care so I truly hope that it can be cathartic for those who read who might also live with mental illness because you DO matter and your story DOES deserve to be told. Word Count: 969 Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

They’d been admitted the same night, after lights out, two frozen bodies sitting in the darkened day room waiting to be assigned a bed.

It was unusual for two people to land in the same wing at the same time, let alone this late at night but that’s just how it happened.

She sits quietly, fully believing she’s in some kind of limbo between this life and the next – that somehow this was just how her brain was processing her passing, waiting to be judged.

She wonders if the man, slumped in the chair half a dozen feet from her is also recently deceased. Or so she believes.

He seems sullen and she wonders if perhaps he’d taken his own life to end up here in this seeming waystation.

Despite his deep scowl, she finds him beautiful. And then she thinks to herself, maybe he’s an angel and it’s some kind of test to see how she’ll interact with him.

As his eyes rise to hers, his frown etches further into his features. “You're staring…” He mutters, rolling his shoulders tensely.

“Sorry—” Emma apologizes, tearing her eyes away. “I was just—wondering if you were okay…” She mumbles softly.

“Would I be here if I were okay?” He replies.

Emma confuses his meaning, again thinking maybe this in the afterlife. And again, she thinks he must’ve taken his life.

‘Marc—come on, she seems sweet…’ A voice in his mind says, whose worried expression reflects from the window to the hallway.

“How can you possibly tell that, Steven?” He mutters again.

When he speaks to someone that doesn’t appear to be in the room, she starts to turn the options over in her mind.

Maybe he’s hearing voices like she started to this morning before…before it happened…

Or maybe she just can’t see the person he’s speaking to because that person is on a spiritual plane she can’t comprehend yet.

Still, she’s sure it’s all a test.

“Who is Steven?” she asks gently, trying to help.

Marc’s eyes flash to hers again, that seem to look on him with such an innocence that even he can’t see her question as malicious.

“Is he here too?” She asks, looking confused but somehow so compassionate.

This in turn confuses him.

‘I don’t think she’s here for the same reason we are, mate…” Steven says within their headspace, looking at the girl with such soft regard.

There’s a small pout at Marc’s lips as he studies her. She radiates a kind of sensitive and soothing energy that belongs far away from a place like this.

He can’t help but soften along with Steven.

Another presence moves into focus in their shared space. He takes one look at the girl and feels his own protective nature kick in.

‘Who’s this?’

Marc doesn’t realize how long the silence has lingered between them until Jake speaks.

All the while, she continues looking softly at him, occasionally shying away her eyes.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me…” Emma breaks the silence.

Marc shakes his head slowly, somehow finding himself more worried about her than he is about himself at this point.

“What’s your name?” He asks, tempering his voice.

She swallows, tucking some hair behind her ear. “E-Emma…” She rolls her lips in, causing dimples to dip lightly into her cheeks as her eyes glance away shyly again.

Jake watches stunned from the reflection beside Steven.

He doesn’t know where it comes from, but he only softens more. “I’m Marc…” he introduces himself.

Emma eyes rise to his again, nodding slowly.

Her mind is already moving on, asking quietly, “do you know how long we’ll be here?”

Marc mistakes her meaning, just assuming it must be her first time on a psychiatric hold.

“72 hours—they have to—”

Emma’s already talking over him, more to herself but audible enough for the three of them to hear. “Three days? Like Easter?” She wonders aloud.

Marc’s eyebrows pull together, his mouth hanging open a little. “huh?”

“Easter—” Emma repeats. “Jesus came back to life after three days…”

‘Oh I—Marc I don’t think she knows what’s happening at all…’ Steven tells him.

Marc blinks slowly, but continues to soften, “do you know where you are right now, Emma?”

She shakes her head quickly and her shoulders pulling up to her ears, “I think it’s—well it’s kinda like limbo, right?” She pauses, furrowing her own brow. “We’re waiting to be judged…” She does her best to explain.

An ache goes through his chest, somehow his situation seems to pale in comparison with hers.

“No, Emma—” He starts, but is abruptly cut off when the floor staff comes to collect her first.

Fear seems to come over her face and it’s all he can do to stay in his chair, knowing that causing a scene would end badly for one or both of them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow—okay?” Is all he can get out.

“Tomorrow?” Emma questions in a daze.

“Come on, Emma—let’s get you settled…” The woman ushers her out of the door. “Someone will be back for you in a minute, Marc.”

This does nothing to ‘settle’ Marc at all, in fact, even after they get him situated in a room he still can’t stop worrying.

And so there he lies, in the dark on his side in a twin sized bed that feels a little too small, wrapped in thin hospital blankets, unable to get his mind off of the beautiful girl somewhere in a room along the same hallway.

The same beautiful girl who likewise lies in the dark, wondering over an angel named Marc and what will come of her.

Of one thing was certain for both of them, sleep wouldn’t come so easily tonight.

[sageandred]

Ranking LS Disasters *by personal preference

(only doing the major ones that were big and/or filled an entire episode // I didn't include the GraceJudd car accident, because I wanted to do natural disasters, but I did include 4x09 because it takes the whole episode of Marjan trying to get to safety // maybe i'll do a gigantic post of every single event later down the line)

1) Ice Storm (3x01)-The fact that this was a 4 part event (A pregnant Grace stuck in the storm, Carlos waiting for TK to wake up from a coma, Paul..it was all very good)

2) Marjan runs for her life (4x09)-such a good solo episode (mainly focussing on 1 character the entire episode can usually be a miss, but Lone Star does good in all of their character-focussed ones)

3) Dust Storm (2x14)-speaking of solo character-focussed episodes...Mateo getting his time to shine(!), but also this was a well-constructed episode and every found family based show needs an episode where the characters are split up due to unforseen circumstances out of their control, like being reassigned to different work locations. (#3 and #4 were switched originally, but I just found this episode a little more entertaining all the way through)

4) Wildfire (2x03)-They took on a big task with such a packed episode, with this being the crossover event, and with [character] death being just 1 episode before it. I like the stakes and the team moments coming together, with their own and the LA force. (we also get the mention of Mateo's LA doppelganger cousin)

5) Volcanic Eruption (2x02)-for the shock factor (+ all of the graphic gore from the opening to the episode highlight), and we get great solo character moments + support for each other at the end

6) Arsonist Fire (2x12)-We get that great tarlos plot. It feels wrong to put this above #7, because the fire's such a small part/factor to the episode, but points since there were some episode shocks and the entire arc wasn't completely predictable the way that I thought at first]

7) Tornado (1x04)-There's a sense of togetherness and feeling like a family; the disasters got better with this being so early in the show. loses points for the car between the buildings, but the story of the man with his two kids was heartbreaking, even being as stupid as he was.

8) Solar Storm (1x10)-a pretty solid plot; as an episode it fell flat in some places.. but that radiation case from space on the phonecall with Grace 😭 (this episode and the plot was flawed, but this idea was promising and I was interested to keep going into season 2, so that's why it's higher than a couple)

9) Building Explosion (3x18)-(this previous episode end leading into the big finale is purely ranked on preference) not their best disaster, and not their worst...This moment was eventful and provided some good moments for Judd/Grace and even Wyatt due to Judd being trapped in danger. This might be higher if the Judd main plot wasn't so short, although a good fake-out with a new conflict of another one of their own going down, but that Owen hallucination arc was a miss for me. The explosion itself (at the start of 4x18/end of 4x17, especially) was epic, though!

10) Plane Engine (3x08)-I really liked the response to the emergency on the plane, the father-son stuff, and the help on Tommy via phone. Episode was great; the disaster itself falls last on my ranking. It was interesting, just not that intense; this being lowest on the list is solely because there are more mishaps that ended up being more intense. Though, it was a good emotional moment. (led to the great emotional tarlos reunion, too). The parallel of the flashback to present day that led to TK confessing to Owen was beautiful!

[misty-caligula]

This is my big one for s2e6 and it’s the thing that made me bolt upright in my chair, really just ... kicked me in the chest. For context my point of view on the show is a non-supernatural one, I do not think Lottie is psychic I think she’s delusional. It’s okay if you do not, but that’s the context for my take:

I have a strong suspicion that adult!Lottie’s being played, and I really do not like it.

Full disclosure, I have a history in the psychiatric world as a patient, I’m not schizophrenic but I am psychotic and I am well managed and very stable but like... I know what this shit is meant to be like, from about 15 years of personal experience. So back in s2e4 I was immediately .... confused. By Lott’s new psych. She seemed... just off.

I thought to myself “Hey, you know, psychiatry is one of those things that is so often misrepresented in all forms of media, I’m probably just reading too much into it.” But then I rewatched (and rewatched) and the more I did the more it felt... deliberate. What got to me was that ... her normal psych has gone on sabattical and been replaced, and the new one is trying to tell her not to suppress her visions with medication but try to understand them and what they’re trying to tell her.

A real psychiatrist simply would never talk like that. Would never suggest that. As far as psychiatry is concerned, Lottie is schizophrenic, her visions are delusional. And delusions/hallucinations are less ... they’re less like dreams where you might think “Oh I’m going to keep track of what I’m dreaming about and see if it means anything” (which, incidentally, is also not a thing a psychiatrist would usually do, but that’s besides the point) but are more like... a damaged computer, throwing up random, unsorted and unrelated data. Our brains are pattern finders, we desperately try to make connections in what we experience, and when our brains start misfiring and giving us bizarre and nonsensical data we still try to connect it. Delusional thinking doesn’t ... say anything about you, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just the brain trying to sort nonsense into piles of organised nonsense.

From a psychiatric perspective a delusion or hallucination is a symptom no different to a ... headache or a rash. It’s a non-desirable issue to be treated and ideally cured, not ... explored and looked at for some kind of deeper meaning. And this isn’t even talking about like, trauma, and processing it through therapy. Lottie’s psychosis manifested long before the plane, she’s been on medication most of her life. It’s not something she can just... ignore, or choose to fight, or try not to have. More than that, by actively engaging with it it damages her coping mechanisms that she’s developed over the years to ground her in reality when she’s not certain.

Anyway. This all just seemed.... off. Wrong. And Lottie’s reaction is to say “There’s no meaning, because they’re not REAL.” Because she’s spent a LOT of time in treatment, trying to build a solid foundation of reality to live on. She’s clearly very distressed by the idea of losing touch with that, and her psych is NOT helping. It all seemed very... off.

I thought through options of what was going on. Maybe... maybe her new psych isn’t real? Maybe she’s talking to the wall? That was my best theory with so little to go on. But it was not a very satisfying answer, and didn’t really fit the general themes and style of the show anyway... I was confused.

Fast forward to ep 6 and we get more time with the new psych. Lott is now CLEARLY agitated. She can’t sit still, seems very anxious. She starts talking about “the visions” and “this feeling even about things that I know are right infront of me, it’s like it’s pointing me towards back then.” Her psych says “Is it possible that your fear of the past might be actually your fear of your illness?” Only THAT IS NOT WHAT LOTT SAID. She didn’t SAY she was afraid of the past, she was afraid of “a feeling about things I know are right infront of me, pointing me back towards then.” What does she mean by that? Finding random queens in a pile of papers? Visions of dead bees? The reality is that she’s not afraid of the past, she’s losing touch with reality. In psychiatric wording, she’s struggling to hold onto “insight” i.e. the ability to determine what’s real or not.

Lott kind of misses this disconnected thought though, and instead she says “That’s not the problem, I’m not worried that I’m ill, I’m worried I never was.” This shows a complete LACK of insight, she’s forgotten that only very recently she was terrified of her illness and now she’s suddenly thinking that maybe 30+ years of treatment were all for nothing? Maybe she was just never sick at all?

Then she goes off on a tangent, she says “With Travis coming, Natalie and now Misty’s here too. It’s like it sent them here, to show me.” “To show you what?” “That it WAS real. And that I wasn’t the only one who felt it out there, that it was all of us, that it was a part of us.” “What is...it...Lottie?” And she goes off about the god of the wilderness and the terrible things they did.

But... okay so Lott’s losing her objectivity here, which is ... not uncommon for a psychotic person to deal with. And she’s developing a belief that she was never sick, that she was never delusional, that it was always real. Now only 2 episodes beforehand she’d come to the psych on an emergency basis to increase her meds PRECISELY because she was afraid this would happen. She’s TERRIFIED of getting to this exact point, being this exact way. Because it leaves her absolutely out of control of herself, her own mind.

But listen to what the psychiatrist is saying. First she says to her face that Lott’s psychosis is “controlled.” But... no it’s not! She’s having hallucinations, she’s CLEARLY delusional, and showing all kinds of signs of psychosis. She’s definitionally out of control.

Then she asks probing questions not about her mental state, but about the details of her delusions, about the god of the forest. She STILL hasn’t increased her meds and she’s acting like it’s not at all weird that she’s saying stuff like “I think I’m not sick and never was.” Which, to a psychotic person or a psychiatrist is SUCH a red flag, because the next immediate question to raise if a schizophrenic or bipolar or otherwise psychotic person says those words is “...are you taking your medication?” Because believing that you’re not delusional is one of the core hallmarks OF BEING DELUSIONAL.

Literally the definition of a delusion is a belief without evidence that you hold against all odds even in the face of contradictory evidence. If you are sitting there saying EXTRAORDINARY things and requiring zero external evidence to back up your claims and ABSOLUTELY certain in those beliefs no matter what... that’s delusional. Of COURSE you think you’re sane, if you lack insight you simply cannot tell what you’re thinking isn’t rational.

It’s like you are so certain that gravity exists, you can feel it, you can see its’ effects, and you comfortably put your life on the line for gravity a hundred times a day. If someone told you gravity wasn’t real you’d think they sounded mad, and if they told you YOU were the one out of touch, and that actually gravity wasn’t real, you could just look around and go “Uh... obviously you’re wrong.” But if you’re getting bad info into your brain you could be relying on something with JUST AS MUCH certainty and have absolutely no idea or capacity to tell that it’s actually completely wrong, no matter how many times you were told or shown. Medicated psychotic people regain their insight and can say “Sometimes I think things that don’t make sense, and I can tell that they’re not real, and I’m glad I don’t make choices based on that false information.” Unmanaged psychotic people say “I don’t know why I should take some pill, I’m fine, nothing’s wrong at all.”

I just canNOT fathom how any psychiatrist in the world would sit with a known schizophrenic patient who’s describing having active visions, who believes that a god they found in the middle of the forest is sending people to them so they can all be magically healed by them, and not IMMEDIATELY say to themselves “Hmm, this person is clearly having a psychotic event, is clearly in a tough spot, and needs their meds adjusted and maybe we should look into their wellbeing in the short term.”

All of which led me to suddenly jump up in my chair and shout “OH MY GOD” at my poor friend who was watching with me. Because I think that Lottie is being manipulated. I think that someone’s been fucking with her meds. I think that someone got rid of her real psychiatrist and replaced him with a plant. I think the new psych is either trying to encourage her to become a more invested cult leader, possibly the cult is becoming like... more intense without her knowledge and they’re trying to turn her into a saint by removing her meds and encouraging her delusions. OR someone is trying to work out what REALLY happened in the woods and they’re manipulating her so that she’ll tell them the full story while she’s vulnerable and confused.

Either way, I’m 99.9% sure someone’s deliberately fucking with her at this point, and it’s actually really pissing me off because I can’t stand seeing vulnerable people, esp mentally ill people, being manipulated and used. It’s a HUGE thing for me, and ... aaaaaah whoever’s behind this shit I hope they meet Shauna on a very bad day.

[animeomegas]

24 HOURS - CHAPTER 2

[Alpha!Reader X Omega!Kiba]

Summary: Having finished your 24 hour cycle with Neji, you were feeling optimistic about this whole drug induced hallucination/trip to the future. Although if yesterday felt a bit like a rollercoaster, today felt like free falling from a plane. GN!Alpha!Reader x Multi

Warnings: Talks of murder, some nudity. Nothing worse than the show, I think. 

(Chapter 2 is finally out!! Woohoo!! Enjoy~ @omeganronpa​)

Word count: 6.4k

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Epilogue

Unfortunately, the peaceful wake up from yesterday (did it even count as yesterday if it was an alternate timeline?) with the slow opening of eyes and returning to consciousness in a bed with the softest bedsheets you could imagine, didn’t want to make another appearance.

No, with this 24-hour cycle, the tone was set immediately when some kind of gremlin child jumped on you, crushing all the air out of your chest and abruptly rocketing you into consciousness.

You let out a little oof sound as you sat up, bedding falling around you. Automatically, you reached under your pillow for a kunai, but you were glad to find yourself empty handed when the face of a small child swam into clear view.

It took a few moments to realise what was happening, brief memories of cuddling with Neji lingering. The phrase you’d heard too many times decided to ring around your head again.

“You will have 24 hours with the seven people you could love the most and who could love you in return. Learn so that you may choose wisely.”

‘Yes, thank you, I’ve got it,’ you snapped inside your head, mentally waving the message away.

“Appa! It’s time to wake up!” the little boy on your lap demanded, little arms crossed seriously.

Belatedly, you realised there was a second child, who immediately started bouncing on your legs, clearly unimpressed by your dazed look. They looked about the same age, five or six years old, probably twins.

Your twins, you realised with a terrifying stomach lurch. Wasn’t that a weird thought?

“Oma told us to come get you,” the little girl said proudly, clearly happy with the responsibility or perhaps she just found glee in assaulting people awake. By the massive grin on her face, you had a sneaking suspicion that it was the second one. You also had a sneaking suspicion that the two familiar red markings on each of the twins’ cheeks gave away which one of your omega friends you were going to be spending the next 24-hour cycle with.

“Alright,” you said, trying to gain your bearings. “Go back to oma, I’ll be through in a moment.”

The twins bounced on you a few more times before running out of the room, shouting something to their not-so-mysterious oma and thankfully leaving you alone to gather your thoughts.

Right. You were in the second 24-hour cycle and along with a partner, you appeared to also have twin pups. That put extra pressure on you not to fuck this up.

Putting the pups to the side for a moment for your own sanity, you focused on the issue at hand: had you really hooked up with Kiba? He wouldn’t have been one of the people you expected to show up in this weird hallucination/trip to the future. Then again, neither had Neji.

Although now you were thinking about it, you could see it. He’d definitely been a feral child, but he’d really mellowed out over the past couple of years, from what you’d been able to see anyway. He’d bulked out, chilled out and he had a cute dog. Maybe himbos with dogs were your type and you just didn’t know it yet.

Theorising over your own romantic type completed, you got up before a second wake up call was sent and donned the dressing gown that was draped over the edge of your side of the bed.

The room itself had an incredibly different vibe to the room you’d fallen asleep in. If Neji preferred traditional minimalism and organisation, Kiba clearly preferred chaos. It was absolutely filled with things, kids’ toys, stacks of boxes, an overflowing wash bin and a large crib in the corner of the room.

Your heart jumped as you realised what you were looking at. Was there a baby?! Would you be expected to tend to the baby and take it through with you? Would forgetting the baby be an immediate red flag that you weren’t who you said you were?

No, stop, deep breaths. You didn’t even know if there was a baby in the crib yet because of the blanket covering the side you could see.

Slowly, you approached the crib, fingers crossed that it was empty. Five-year-old twins you could deal with, but an infant would quickly expose your lack of knowledge over parenting. You peeked over the top and were incredibly relieved to see that the crib was both empty and lacking a base, so presumably not currently in use. Thank kami for that.

Bullet dodged, you went to the door, stopping only for a moment to take a look at yourself in the mirror. You looked about the same age as yesterday’s version of you, but where you and Neji appeared interested in pups but waiting for the right moment, you and Kiba clearly didn’t agree with such methods.

“Appa!” a voice shouted from the other room.

Right, you had to go.

You followed the sound of voices and sizzling pans downstairs, but with each step, dread began to grow in your stomach. The number of voices you were hearing sounded like Kiba plus three others. Did you really have three pups? Already?

No, you figured out as you rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs. You didn’t have three pups, you had four pups.

The room you had walked into was open plan, with the kitchen, dining table and living room all being visible from where you stood at the bottom of the stairs. The ‘décor’ from the bedroom had been carried through to the rest of the house. There were dog toys and children’s toys mingled into a combined pile from which you couldn’t differentiate which was which, piles of books, even a box of what looked like miscellaneous weapons that appeared to have been placed at the very specific height of ‘the twins can’t reach’.

The boy in the kitchen, perhaps about nine or so, was stirring something on the counter, standing on a little stool so that he could reach. The man beside him was definitely, 100% Kiba, who was tending to a frying pan on the hob.

There was also a girl sitting in the living room, who looked just a tad younger than the boy, head buried in a thick book that she was halfway through. She had a larger than you remembered Akamaru cuddled up on her lap.

And of course, the twins you had met earlier were performing some kind of horrendous duet under the dining room table, a bottle of shampoo and a hairbrush acting as stand in microphones. Despite yours and Kiba’s obvious disregard for contraception, you were at least glad for the foresight not to provide them with real microphones.

You had four pups. Four.

Actually, scratch that, because as Kiba turned towards you, the wolfish grin he was known for on his face, he revealed his massive tummy.

Four and another one on the way… Hence the empty crib, you mind helpfully supplied.

Is this the version of your life where you go crazy from the loneliness and make it your sole goal in life to never be alone ever again?

“Babe,” Kiba grinned at you. He was wearing pyjamas too, like all the kids. At least you fit in. “I didn’t realise you were so wiped out from your mission, you’re normally up way before now!”

Before you could process that and think of a generic reply, Kiba walked towards you in big strides and grabbed your face, slamming his lips against your eagerly.

It was nothing like the comparatively innocent kiss you’d shared with Neji last night, no, this was passionate and fiery, the kind of kiss where no one’s tongue remained where it was supposed to.

The kiss stole all the oxygen from your lungs and all the thoughts from your brain. Kiba was incredibly warm under your touch. In fact, everything was warm. The vibes of the whole house were warm. You decided then and there, with Kiba’s tongue down your throat, that you’d rather had a warm but messy home over your boring, standard issue shinobi flat any day.

When he pulled away, you were left stunned, the only working brain cell you had left was desperately trying to keep you from actively drooling.

“Oma,” the oldest boy interrupted, knocking you back to reality. You looked over and the boy had moved his little stool and was now tending the pan that Kiba had a minute ago. “Breakfast is burning.”

…

You had somehow survived long enough to sit down and eat, even though it had been awkward attempting to find the cutlery draw and challenging to remove the twins (Your twins! How bizarre!) from under the table.

Other than that, though, you had to admire how smoothly Kiba pulled it off. You couldn’t imagine serving four pups breakfast every day was easy, but the twins were happily gobbling up their cereal, the older girl had sandwiches with the crusts cut off and the older boy had the same cooked breakfast that you and Kiba had. (Akamaru had a mix of dog and human food in his bowl which sat at the side of the table, of course.)

It hit you suddenly, amongst the chatter, that you were at a family breakfast. How long had it been since you had one of those?

It hadn’t occurred to you that this 24-hour hallucination/trip to the future could include pups, but in hindsight you should have probably considered it. It wasn’t bad, it was just… more pressure not to screw it up.

Like, you should presumably parent them, but you didn’t really know how. You watched as the twin girl obviously geared up to flick a piece of cereal at her older brother, unsure how to stop it.

“Akemi, eat your cereal, don’t throw it on Minoru,” Kiba said absently, throwing a piece of meat from his plate to Akamaru. Right, the girl twin was called Akemi and the eldest was Minoru. You definitely needed to remember that.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” the girl denied, pointing it at her twin. “It was Kaito! You’re getting us confused.”

“It was not me!” Kaito squawked indignantly. Okay, the male twin was Kaito. You just needed the elder daughter’s name, the one with the book, but she’d brought said book to the table and didn’t seem much interested in joining the conversation. Ah, scratch that, her bookmark had her name on it: Ichika.

So, it was Minoru, Ichika, Akemi and Kaito. Got it.

“I literally watched you, Akemi.”

“Did you though?” she grinned a grin very similar to her oma’s. “Can you prove it?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you little monster,” he ruffled her hair as she giggled. “Eat your cereal before I donate it to Akamaru.”

You also took Kiba’s advice and turned to your own food. It was different than Neji’s cooking, but definitely not bad. It felt hearty, like the kind of food you’d eat on return from a mission. Neji’s food was traditional and much lighter.

As far as which was better, free food was free food. If someone had lovingly cooked you breakfast, you weren’t going to start ranking it against other breakfasts. That would be rude.

It was only after you’d almost cleared your plate that you noticed that Kiba had barely touched his food and seemed to be playing with it more than anything, cutting it up and pushing it around to create the allusion that he was eating.

Kiba ‘I once challenged Naruto to a ramen eating contest, ate twelve bowls and then threw up in a hedge’ Inuzuka wasn’t eating his breakfast. How strange.

Kiba looked up at that moment and noticed you looking at him. He playfully kicked your foot under the table, clearly well practiced in its exact location, and mouthed ‘morning sickness’ at you. You winced in sympathy, figuring that morning sickness this late in the pregnancy was super unfortunate. He did look a little queasy now that you focused on him and his muscular arms, no that wasn’t helpful brain, stop it, but the second Minoru looked up at him, his grin was back in place as though nothing had ever been wrong.

He was hiding that he was feeling unwell from the pups for some reason. Automatically, you thought that he should get scented by his alpha, something which reduces morning sickness for pregnant omegas, only to belatedly realise that you were his alpha and you would have to be the one to scent him. You blushed red and tried to hide your face by taking a long drink from your glass. Yes, technically you had Kiba’s tongue in your mouth not long ago but scenting just felt a lot more… intimate. You started to imagine it for a moment but quickly had to stop lest an awkward problem arise, and you taint the memory of this delightful family breakfast.

“Appa, how did the baby get in oma’s tummy? Did he eat it?” Kaito suddenly asked, looking up at you with wide, innocent eyes.

Just as you were starting to relax.

“Ah, well, you see,” you started, looking to Kiba for help. Like the arsehole he was, he simply snorted and said nothing. You had no idea what you’d told the pups already. They were only five, so they didn’t need details, but did you lie to pups this age about sex? “There’s a special thing that adult couple can do if they love each other very much, and sometimes that ends up in a baby growing.”

Kaito squinted his eyes at you for a moment.

“Adult things? Like alcohol and kissing?”

“Yes!” you agreed immediately, happy to put this behind you as fast as possible. “Exactly like alcohol and kissing, it’s super gross.”

Kiba lost it, cackling at full volume and setting off everyone at the table, even though most of them didn’t get the joke.

“Super gross,” Kiba agreed. “But only if you do it right.”

“Kiba!”

The rest of breakfast thankfully passed quickly and painlessly. You spent most of your time observing Kiba as that was what you were technically here for after all. He was a very attentive oma, you had to admit. He wiped faces, cracked jokes, cut up food and cleaned up spills, all while heavily pregnant and feeling sick. He had matured a lot from the young man you knew, but his personality was still there, shining brightly underneath the responsible actions. Sometimes it burnt brighter than others, like when he got into a rock, paper, scissors fight with Minoru over the last slice of toast and defeat him with tickles instead of rock, paper, scissors, only to give the last piece to Minoru anyway.

It was so nice to have breakfast with a group of people for once, especially people that loved you.

…

After breakfast, everyone had dressed and the pups had taken off to play outside and make the most of the summer weather, although Minoru had needed a little convincing to leave Kiba to do the chores while pregnant, only leaving when you had double pinkie promised to do most of it.

(“It’s summer!” Kiba had said. “We can handle the cleaning, go have some fun!”)

When the backdoor swung shut behind the last pup, Kiba let out a sigh of relief, immediately leaning against the kitchen counter and bringing a hand to rub his face. His whole demeanour changed completely in an instant.

“Are you alright?” you asked, moving over to him. “Still feeling sick?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I can’t wait for this morning sickness thing to fuck off, I can’t believe I’ve had it for like eight months.”

He sent a weak grin that was interrupted by a wince. It hurt to see your friend/mate in pain, so you opened your arms, offering him a hug in the hopes it’d make him feel better. He accepted enthusiastically, and although his bump made things a little difficult, he plastered himself to you as best as he could, nosing at the scent gland on your neck in a way that felt unfamiliar and ticklish, but not unpleasant.

As the nosing got more and more aggressive, you belatedly realised that he needed your scent to calm his nausea and you were just standing there doing nothing. Panicking at the thought of him thinking you were withholding help on purpose, you immediately unleashed a little bit too much of your scent.

Thankfully, Kiba didn’t seem to mind being metaphorically smacked in the face with a wall of your scent. He relaxed against you, still so warm, ridiculously warm in fact. Were all Inuzuka this warm or just Kiba?

“Thanks,” Kiba muttered against you, a powerful purr emitting from his chest as presumably his nausea subsided. “The last three pregnancies were nowhere this bad, but I guess one out of four isn’t bad odds.”

You laughed a little.

“I know some parents who would kill for odds like that, although I don’t know many that make it all the way to four.”

You felt his grin against your neck seconds before his teeth followed. You jumped a little at the affectionate bite.

“It’s annoying trying to hide it too,” Kiba continued after he’d removed his teeth from your flesh. “But Minoru has been so freaked out since he had that sex ed class at school. He’s convinced I’m gonna just drop dead the moment I go into labour, and I don’t want to stress him out more by making him think I’m sick.”

Ah, that was why he’d been hiding it.

“I thought he’d calm down once I explained that Inuzuka are built differently, that we’re safe when we give birth, but he’s still on edge and I think that’s what’s causing his nightmares, too. I just don’t want him to feel responsible for me or worried that my pregnancy is a ticking time bomb that ends in my death, y’know?”

“You really care about them a lot,” you said before your filter could stop you.

Kiba pulled out of your embrace and gave you a weird look. You flushed as you realised what you’d said and rushed to explain yourself. Kiba cut you off with a barking laugh, sounding a little like Akamaru.

“You mean my pups?” he asked playfully. “My pack? I care about them more than anything in this entire world and I’ll kill anyone who ever touches any of you, that’s a promise.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have found his promise of violence so hot, but you definitely did. If he said these sorts of things often, you could understand why you had so many pups now. And you’d spent all evening yesterday cuddling with Neji, so you didn’t even have the ‘lonely’ excuse to justify getting all hot and bothered.

“Ugh,” Kiba groaned, looking around the room and killing the mood immediately. “I know we promised that we’d clean yesterday, but do we have to?”

You snorted despite yourself, something which Kiba too offense to if the growl and the punch on the arm you received was anything to go by.

“Take a look around and you tell me,” you teased him, gesturing to a pile of dog treats that looked like they’d been co opted to play Jenga with.  

“Fine,” he huffed. “But I have to keep stocking the birthing nest, so you can handle in here. Bye!”

“Wha-“

He was already gone before you could protest, his laughter echoing down as he darted up the stairs, too nimbly for someone that pregnant.

You shook your head, amused. Oh well, it would probably be good to have some alone time to clean and sort out your thoughts. A lot had happened over the last two hours after all.

…

About an hour and a half of cleaning later, four pairs of human feet and four dog feet came running back into the house, tracking mud over the thankfully not yet cleaned floor.

“Don’t run in the house,” you half-heartedly chastised, figuring that sounded like something a responsible parent would say.

“My idea is better!” Akemi said, ignoring you completely. “Yours is annoying!”

“No! Pillow fights are way better than lame movies! We watch movies all the time!” Kaito argued back.

They both turned to you simultaneously, fisting onto the bottom of your shirt, one standing on each side.

“Appa!” they both demanded. “Tell her/him my idea is better!”

You blinked at both of them, brain stalling, but you were distracted as you caught Ichika wincing at the shouting and covering her ears with her hands. You frowned in concern. You had noticed that she was a quieter pup that preferred books to people; she was probably at the end of her ‘chaos tether’ after an hour in the garden with the screeching twins.

“Alright,” you said, holding up a hand to stop the twins from making their respective cases for the afternoon entertainment. “Let’s keep the noise down a little, okay?”

Kaito opened his mouth to argue, but Kiba, who had just come to the bottom of the stairs interrupted him.

“There will be no pillow fights or movies right now, because you’re all covered in mud, so it’s bath time.”

“Oma!” they whined, letting go of your shirt and running to him instead. “There’s not that much mud! You’re unfair!”

Kiba only laughed at them.

“Right! You two first then, just for that, go upstairs.”

Minoru rolled his eyes at their actions and went into the kitchen and started cutting up some fruit as a snack before his bath. Ichika was sitting on the armchair now, but she still had her hands over her ears and her eyes shut. You could only imagine the noise that would come from bathing the twins, and you weren’t sure she’d appreciate it, even if the noise was muted and coming from upstairs.

“Babe,” the pet name slipped out without your permission but you pointedly ignored your blush and carried on. “Are you okay to handle bathing the twins alone? I think I need to take Ichika out for some quiet time.”

You watched as Kiba’s eyes dart over to her and his face softened.

“Of course, I can handle the twins,” he agreed. “They’ve got nothing on the kind of terror I was at bath time when I was their age, I’ve got this. Come on you two! March! Bathroom!”

“Can Akamaru come?” Kaito asked.

“No, he won’t fit in with both of you little gremlins, unless you’d rather get hosed down in the garden with Akamaru instead? We can do that.”

You quietly approached Ichika as the protests and arguments over having Akamaru join the twins in the bath continued behind you.

“Let’s go outside for a minute, sweetie,” you whispered, offering a hand that she quickly took.

“What if Akamaru just sat on the toilet, then can he come for bath time?”

You led her out the back door, the debate inside fading away as the door shut behind you. The garden was exactly as you’d expected it to be, a big open grass space for the human and canine pups to run around in, a little paddling pool in the corner, dog and children’s play balls littered around, a hose that was definitely part of the reason for the mud, a climbing frame and a casual seating and BBQ area at the very back. As you took in a deep breath of the Konoha summer air, you imagined the days you must spend out here, cooking food, laughing, maybe Kiba or your team and any of their pups would be there too, splashing around in the paddling pool or playing football.

You imagined all the details. The outfits, the food, the jokes, the little table at the back of the seating area that was definitely for alcohol. It was weirdly emotional to imagine being a part of that. Shino and Hinata would definitely come, as would Naruto, Sai and Sakura, you’d have to drag Sasuke of course, but that would be part of the fun. How many pups would you have between you all? If you and Kiba had five, there would probably be at least 8-10 pups in attendance.

It would be fun. But now, that seating area was going to be used for a different purpose. You led Ichika to one of the sofas and sat her down, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. You imagined that she was probably somewhere between lonely from the lack of attention today and also overstimulated, so you decided against speaking and instead just held her to your side. It felt strangely natural considering she was basically a stranger to you, but you had instincts on your side. Regardless of your rational mind, your base line instincts knew she was yours and that you had to protect her and make sure she was okay. You were her appa for the next few hours and it was your job to make the hurt all better.

‘Was she even a real child though?’ you thought suddenly. She felt real under your arm, she breathed, she snuggled into you like a real child, she lowered her hands from her ears as she relaxed, just like a real child. But you hadn’t technically made the decisions that would make her yet and maybe you never would.

You pushed those thoughts down with a shake of your head. It didn’t matter because she was real now, the way she fisted her hand in your shirt  was real and how she purred as you scratched the back of her neck was real. Even if she ceased to exist tomorrow, her pain and comfort mattered because she mattered, existentialism would help no one.

At that moment, she climbed properly onto your lap and buried her little head into your chest, the tiny pup purrs automatically forcing purrs from you in response. This was your pup, your instincts screamed, comfort her, love her.

You still didn’t speak, wanting to wait for her to do so first, but with this new angle, you could stroke her hair. The weight and warmth of her in your lap soothed your frayed instincts, but it wasn’t enough to calm your negative thoughts.

If you didn’t go for this life, you would never see Ichika again, or Minoru or Kaito or Akemi. They would simply cease to exist at some point tonight. Kiba would be there, and maybe he’d find someone else to give him these pups, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Ha, this 24-hour thing was more emotionally draining than you thought it’d be. It was physically draining too, being a parent of four and a partner to someone heavily pregnant. There would be many occasions, if you chose this life, where one child needed special attention at the expense of spending time with the others, just like now. It would be a massive responsibility having this many pups. Could you handle it? If you chose this life, could you be good enough for these pups, because they deserved nothing but the best parent.

Was the ‘full house’ style family even something you wanted? You thought for a minute, and while the version of you a couple of days ago would have probably shied away from such a thing, you could see it now, after living it for a bit. The laughter and the cuddles were constant and there wasn’t a second where your home wasn’t filled with love.

Ichika pulled away from your chest for a moment and looked up at you.

“Appy?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you read me a story tonight please?” she asked, shyly looking down. “Just me?”

You basically melted at her cuteness.

“Of course,” you agreed, despite knowing nothing about evening plans or bedtime routines. “What sort of story?”

“I like the one with the baker and the ninja solving mysteries together, it’s the yellow book on the tall shelf in my room.”

“Okay,” you agreed easily. You didn’t have to worry about choosing your future just yet, you still had more days to live. That was a problem for future you, present you needed to find that yellow book and also make sure Kiba had survived bath time with the terrible twins.

Unfortunately, you never did get to read her that story.

When the baths were done, watching a movie won the most votes for the late afternoon entertainment, so you had settled down as the time ticked on and the sky grew darker and soon it was almost time for bed.

Everyone was packing up the blankets and snack debris from the film when Kaito asked for a glass of water.

“Sure thing,” Kiba said, bopping him on the nose. “Wait here, I’ll get it.”

The room was quiet for a little while until you heard the faint sound of water droplets hitting the floor.

“Babe, can you make a clone to go and fetch my mum?”

“What?” you asked, baffled. He wanted you to get Tsume? You turned around to see Kiba standing in the Kitchen with suspiciously damp pyjama shorts and a puddle on the ground between his legs.

Your mind stalled as you realised what this meant.

“Seems like the baby finally wants to say hello.”

…

You tried desperately to keep a lid on your panic, but it was quickly boiling over despite your best efforts. Kiba was leading you towards a door in your bedroom that you’d previously assumed to be an ensuite, but it was clearly a nesting room.

His mother had just left with all your pups, overnight bags in hand, to look after them while Kiba gave birth. Poor Minoru had had a fit, demanding to stay with Kiba and crying his little heart out. In the end, Tsume had to carry him out of the door as he screamed for you and his oma. You could tell that it had put Kiba on edge, his instincts sending him mixed signals about what he should be focusing on.

So, you were trying not to upset him more by panicking. But, as he opened the door to the nesting room, you realised that you were absolutely panicking.

The nest was nice, very comfortable looking and stocked with all the supplies that you’d need, but it being nice didn’t stop you feeling like an imposter. Kiba was going to be incredibly vulnerable here and he deserved a real mate, not an imposter.

You tried to calm yourself down by remembering that this technically wasn’t real, and if it ever became real, you would be his real mate with actual helpful knowledge and experience. It didn’t help much because it certainly felt real enough to panic about, no matter what your rational mind decided.

Were you going to have to help him literally deliver the pup, you thought suddenly, heart racing.  Kiba had said that Inuzuka pregnancies were different, easier, but how different? How much easier?

You stumbled into the nest after Kiba, just about managing to close the door behind you despite the mess you mind was in.

“Minoru will be fine,” Kiba said suddenly, probably misreading the cause of your panic. “He’s done this twice before and we both know I’ll be okay, and he’s got grandma there with him too.”

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

“You’re right,” you said, taking a deep breath and sitting beside him. Kiba needed your support here. It wasn’t about you right now.

“Then let’s get started. I want to meet the little monster that’s been beating me up from the inside for almost a year.”

You snorted, panic abating for a second as the stressful atmosphere broke. Kiba was good at that; he could change the atmosphere of a place with only a sentence.

And then Kiba started stripping, pulling off his top and throwing it off into the corner of the nest before starting on the bottoms. Oh, you should have predicted that he’d want to be naked in his birthing nest.

Strangely tough, comparative to how flustered you’d felt when Neji had pulled his shirt off in front of you, even though you only saw his back, it didn’t feel strange. I mean, you had seen Kiba almost naked a few times already, he had almost no shame after all, but the panic and the fact that this nudity was linked to childbirth killed all sexual attraction. He wasn’t there for sex; he was there to give birth and it was only natural that he be naked while he did it.

When he was completely naked, Kiba curled up on his side, breathing deeply. He needed his mate, and for the moment, that was you.

…

“You’re alright, deep breaths,” you cooed at Kiba, spooning him from behind as he winced in pain. His contractions were getting more intense now. The first few hours had mainly been spent feeding him snacks and playing board games, but things were speeding up now. “You’re doing so well, I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m doing this for us, for our family,” Kiba panted, squeezing your hand. “I would do anything for our pack, for you, anything.”

One thing you’d learnt this evening was that Kiba was surprisingly romantic, in his own feral kind of way. You’d also learnt that childbirth was terrifying, but you’d been trying to ignore that fact because it wasn’t helping you focus.

“Anyone who tries to hurt us will be dead,” Kiba promised, a concerning glint in his eyes. “I’ll rip their throat out with my teeth, because I chose you, because my pups are parts of me, no one will hurt them. I won’t allow it!”

You growled appreciatively at his words; they were pulling on all of your possessive instincts.

“You wouldn’t have to, because I’d kill them first.”

“Psh, as if,” Kiba disagreed, flashing his teeth at you. “Me and Akamaru would get there first obvoiusly.”

You decided to let the omega in labour win the debate for the time being. You looked at the clock and saw that it was about 01:30 in the morning. You had no idea when you’d be switching to the next 24-hour cycle because it had happened in your sleep last time. As much as you had enjoyed your day with Kiba, and your various pups, you hoped that you switched soon, before the baby decided it was time to say hello.

You sent a quick mental plea to the mysterious fortune teller, asking that the next partner be a little more chill; you were going to need a serious break after this cycle.

Kiba tugged on your hand, pulling himself and you up into a sitting position.

“You need to give me more attention, I can’t settle,” he said bluntly, staring at you. “You’re being too stiff and don’t think I didn’t notice you still wearing your clothes. Is something wrong?”

Your heart jumped. Of course, you weren’t doing as good a job as his real mate must have done, even though you were technically the same person.

“Sorry, I-“ you struggled to think of an excuse. You picked the first thing you could think of. “I’m just worried about Minoru. I feel like I need to stay clothed so I can run to him at the drop of a hat if I need to.”

Kiba’s eyebrows furrowed in concern and he nodded, he seemed to understand thankfully.

“I get that,” he said, voice surprisingly quiet. “I hated to hear him cry like that and honestly, I was close to letting him stay, but he’s with family, he’s safe and I need to feel you properly. It feels wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologised sincerely. “I didn’t realise.”

“You can apologise by taking off shirt at least.”

You chuckled but agreed to take off your shirt. At this point, you were happy to do anything that could make him feel better, to make up for being a cheap knock off of the person he deserved. It didn’t feel awkward and uncomfortable, not with Kiba.

When your top half was bare, you drew him into an embrace. His skin was even warmer than earlier, and softer than you realised now that he was pressed against you properly. Kiba went limp in your arms, nosing at your scent glands and running his hands all over your back. You shivered as his fingers ran over a particularly sensitive bit. The way he traced your body was intimate and you tried to return the favour.

“That’s better,” Kiba sighed, sounding much more relaxed now. He didn’t say anything else for a while, content to nibble and lick at your neck while you held each other. Every now and then he would pull back and steal a kiss from your lips as well.

You traced little patterns and phrases over his skin, and although Kiba made no move to say the phrases out loud, you knew he was focused on them, because he would bite if you said something nice and bite harder if you said something funny or off topic, like he was playfully chastising you for teasing him.

Kiba was fun, you realised suddenly. He was fun. You had laughed all day, in fact, your cheeks hurt from smiling, wasn’t that weird.

Eventually, the patterns and phrases died down as you got lost in your own thoughts and it was over an hour later that Kiba broke the silence.

“They’re getting super close now, the contractions. Maybe two or so minutes apart. We’re nearly there.”

You were going to have to accept the fact that you may very well have to deliver this baby somehow. Maybe you should ask Kiba to run through exactly what you should do, just in case.

“Kiba, I-“ your words cut off as a blinding pain in your head stole your ability to speak.

You pulled away from Kiba as the pain spread, burning behind your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Kiba asked. His voice sounded close, but you couldn’t see him. Water, you needed water.

You crawled in the direction of the stash of water bottles, but you didn’t quite make it, collapsing as your arms gave out supporting your weight.

“Alpha?! Alpha?! What’s wrong?! What’s going on?!” Kiba’s voice was warbled and distorted to your ears, but he sounded distressed. You wanted to reassure him, but your tongue wouldn’t cooperate.

You forced your eyes open and were met with Kiba’s worried face hovering over you and a view of the clock. As the clock ticked to 03:00, everything went black.

Next chapter

[darkwing-katy]

Lost in the Jungle - Oneshot

Pairing: Henry Gale/Ben Linus x Reader (non-romantic)

Word Count: 2,523

Summary: You’re lost in the massive jungle of the Island at night when you run into a stranger who may or may not want to kill you.

Just a short oneshot that wouldn’t get out of my head. I figured I’d post it today, 8/15, because, well, that’s a fun little LOST date right there. It’s been forever since I posted a reader insert. Good golly. Enjoy!

Tagging: @primosflowergarden

——————————————————————————-

You mutter a curse to yourself as you stumble over the fourth tree root of the night. “This was a dumb idea.” 

The trees tower above you, and though your eyes have long since adjusted, you can’t see beyond the trees that don’t immediately surround you. A breeze rustles the enormous leaves surrounding you and you freeze, unsure whether you actually heard something or imagined it. Your strained ears pick up no strange sounds, and, to be fair, there’s no way in hell you’re gonna see something that isn’t immediately in front of you, so you decide to continue in your attempt to find the camp.

“Just��had to go on an adventure, didn’t you, (Y/N)?” you whisper as you reach a small clearing. It’s maybe fifteen, twenty feet across, but it’s a straight stretch where you’re probably not gonna be accosted by roots. That’s a bit of a relief, even if you have no frickin’ clue where you’re supposed to be going anymore. “Multiple people offered to go with you but noooooooo. ‘I can do it by myself’, you told them. Idiot. Moron. Imbecile. The absolute most stupid-ass decision you’ve ever made in your life, and that includes getting on the plane in the first place.”

You pause a step into the clearing in an attempt to reorient yourself. Idiot, you think. You’re just so tired of walking. You want to get home, you want to sit by the fire and be surrounded by people again. You want food that isn’t fruit. You want—

Your skin prickles uncomfortably despite the humidity. The sensation doesn’t pass, and you begin to wonder if there’s a wild animal nearby, watching you. What the hell are you supposed to do if another polar bear or boar charges at you? You don’t have a gun—and you wouldn’t know how to shoot it if you did. All you have is your backpack with two water bottles and a couple of bruised mangoes and bananas. Oh, and an extra pair of clothes, just because you never knew what was gonna happen on this godforsaken island. You suppose that if push came to shove, you could try to swing your backpack like a sling, but it’s liable to hurt you more than any animal.

Oh, shit, what if it’s the Monster? you wonder, and wish you hadn’t even thought of that because now every sound is the Monster—every breath of wind, every creak of the tree trunks, every crunch of footsteps—wait.

You stare ahead of you. You swear you heard something this time.

You wait, inhaling through your nose and breathing out your mouth as quietly as possible, even as your heart thuds in your ears. The longer you wait, the more you begin to wonder if you’ve finally gone crazy, if the steady diet of fresh fruits and fish mixed with constant fear of, well, everything, has made you hallucinate. You wouldn’t be the first of the survivors to do so. Everyone had seen Charlie’s madness with baby Aaron, and you’d heard rumors of others seeing things that weren’t there. No matter where people were, one thing held true, always: people loved to gossip.

You take in another breath, hold it for a moment, exhale it out. Probably nothing, you think, and you’ve almost convinced yourself of that. ‘Almost’, because right as you’re about to start walking again, a man stumbles out of the trees. 

You’ve never seen this man before, and that detail alone makes your stomach twist in apprehension. He’s wearing a torn shirt that exposes his right shoulder, where a white patch of gauze glows in what little light there is. There’s a dark splotch on the gauze that appears to be spreading, though not fast. He’s breathing fast, like he’s running from something. He doesn’t even notice you until he’s halfway through the little clearing, and then he freezes. His head tilts in your direction, and though you can’t see the color of his eyes, you know that he’s fixed them on you. You can feel them.

“Are you okay?” you ask without really meaning to, your eyes bouncing between the gauze and his face, which remains carefully blank. 

The man says nothing.

You lift your arm to point at his shoulder. “You look like you’re hurt. Do you need help or something?”

Still nothing, and the silence is filled with something ominous. You can taste it in the air between you.

He’s still staring at you, but he straightens, like he’s making himself taller, more intimidating. You catch a glint of something in his left hand. When you realize it’s a gun, you yourself become very, very still.

You don’t recognize him, and he has a gun. 

Jack had mentioned something about a prisoner in the hatch, someone that they were sure must be one of the Others. He’d given you all very little information about this supposed captive, but even without any identifying traits, you know this must be him. This is the man from the hatch, the Other.

Why is he out?

More importantly, how did he get a gun?

He hasn’t looked away from you since the moment he saw you, his eyes tracking every movement you make. He is still panting, but he looks like he’s working hard to steady his breathing, like he doesn’t want you to think he’s weak.

Your eyes adjust to him in the darkness, and you can see just how beaten up this man is. He has little cuts all over his face—his lips, his nose, his forehead. He might have a dark eye, but you can’t tell in this lighting. 

He must be so scared, you think, then chastise yourself. He must be scared? Hell, I’m scared! But as scared as you are, as afraid as you are of the gun in his hand, you find yourself feeling some sympathy for the poor man. Sure, the Others had attacked you. Sure, the Others had stolen Claire and killed Scott. Sure, they were a constant threat that hung over the entire group, but how would you feel if you were in his place? How would you feel if you’d finally escaped from the people you saw as villains and then you had the misfortune to run into one in your escape?

Slowly, as if trying to show the man that you weren’t about to do anything to hurt him, you take your backpack off of your shoulders. “Hey. You’re the guy from the hatch, right? The one Jack told us about?”

He neither nods nor shakes his head. Just stares, his eyes digging deep into you.

“I have water in my bag. Do you want it?”

He blinks, but that’s it. You take that to mean yes, so you drop the bag to the ground. You keep your chin pointed at him as you unzip it and rummage around for the full water bottle. “I don’t have any weapons in here, in case you’re afraid of that,” you say in a soft voice. “Just food, water, and extra clothes.”

Silence. But he hasn’t lifted the gun to you, which has to count for something, right? You feel the plastic of the large water bottle and lift it up, holding it out to the man. He looks at it, finally taking his eyes off of you, but he doesn’t make any move to accept it.

Maybe he’s scared of you, you think to yourself. Maybe he thinks you’re about to attack him.

With what? you counter mentally. What am I gonna do? Throw mangoes at him? That’d be a waste of good mangoes!

You feel around until you touch the cool skin of a banana. Slowly, you lift that out as well. It’s a little bruised from the bottles, but it’s still edible. You leave the backpack opened on the ground as you get back to your feet, palms out to show him that you have nothing in hand. He watches as you pick up the water bottle and the banana, watches as you inch forward until you’re halfway between him and your bag. You set the items down on the ground and back away equally as cautiously. “In case you’re hungry,” you say. 

“Why?” he asks, and there’s a sharp edge to his voice. In that single word, he’s cut into you, but hey! at least he hasn’t shot you.

You shrug as you feel for your backpack with your heel. “Because you look like you need it,” you reply.

His gaze is still suspicious, but he puts the gun in his waistband as he steps forward and bends down to pick up the water and the banana. He twists the cap off and lifts it to his lips. As he guzzles the water, he keeps those eyes locked on you, and you know that if you do anything he doesn’t like, he’ll have no hesitation in shooting you.

He’s chugged half of the water when he puts the lid back on. He doesn’t peel the banana but puts it in the pocket of his cargo shorts. “Keep your hands where I can see them,” he commands, and you obey.

Oh, shit, is he gonna capture me now? That would be just my luck, you think with some bitterness.

The man takes a wary step towards you, then another, and another. It’s like he’s checking to make sure you’ll listen to him. You keep your hands out, palms open, fingers splayed wide like a high-five. He reaches you, and you hold your breath, certain that he’s going to try and knock you out or something, and you notice that his shirt is an orangish color because you’re so close to him, but then he’s passed you by. His head turns as he walks so that he’s keeping you in his line of sight. When he reaches the opposite side of the clearing, the direction you’d just came from, he pauses. He turns his entire body towards you, and you tense.

This is the moment where he shoots me, you suddenly realize in despair. This is it. This is how I die. Showing kindness to one of the Others.

Man, this is such a stupid way to go.

You squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the gunshot. There’s no use in running—if he’s one of them, then he probably knows how to chase you, how to kill you, how to hide the body so no one will ever know. You’ll just have disappeared, another victim of the wild jungle. 

“Why?” you hear.

You open one eye, then the other. The man is looking at you, his head once more tilted at that curious angle like he’s not yet decided what to do about you.

“Uhm,” you say, confused. “Why what?”

“Why are you helping me?”

“Uhhhh. Because you’re hurt? And because…” your eyes flick to the gauze, now shadowed but still visible on his shoulder. “Because I’d want someone else to do the same for me if the situation was reversed.”

“Hmm,” is all he says, but he’s still looking at you. You feel the weight of his gaze, some strange unspoken bond forming between you two. “I suppose that’s as good a reason as any.”

He turns away from you, his hand never once reaching for the gun at his waistband. You’re still waiting with bated breath, unsure if he might abruptly change his mind, but he’s almost vanished into the darkness by now.

“Wait!” you call.

You see his dark form stop, his shoulders tensing, but he doesn’t look back at you. 

“I hope you find your people.”

His shoulders relax.

“Thank you,” you hear him say. His voice is less strong now, but then again, he’s not facing you and he’s a few feet away. He’s not speaking loudly, either.

And then he’s gone, a ghost that was never there. The only proof you have of his existence are your memories and the fact that your backpack weighs less than it had before. You exhale a sigh of relief—you’re not dead. It’s possible this is a cruel trick, but you’re going to choose to believe otherwise. You can’t stand here all night worrying that he’s gonna suddenly pop out and shoot you; you need to get back to the camp. Back to your people.

You turn, though your ears are straining to hear anything that might indicate the man’s return. You pull your bag back up and cross to the opposite side of the clearing, the direction he’d come from.

At least now you have a good idea of where you need to go to get back home.

It’s about an hour later when you run into John Locke and Mr. Eko. John is hobbling along, trying his best to keep up with the other man, but it’s clearly difficult for him, from the way you see the sweat trickling down his face in their torchlight. “(Y/N)!” he exclaims. 

“Hey, John. Mr. Eko.” You give them a nod in greeting. “Nice night for a trek through the jungle.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Henry anywhere recently, have you?”

“Who’s Henry?” you ask, even as you understand that this must be the name of the man you’d encountered.

“He’s, uh, our man in the hatch.”

“The one Jack told us about the other day?”

“Yeah. He, uh, he escaped about an hour ago. I don’t suppose you’ve seen him, have you?”

“John, we do not have time for this,” Mr. Eko warns, his voice deep and rumbling. He steps towards you with purpose and gives you a nod as he passes by. 

You look back at John and shake your head. “Nope. Sorry. I’ve been lost in the jungle for the last few hours and I’m just now finding my way back. Haven’t seen anyone aside from you two.”

You’re not sure why you’re lying, but it’s too late now to do otherwise. You’ve committed to this. As John sighs in dejection, you think back to the man—Henry—and his shoulder, the cuts and bruises all over him. You didn’t think he deserved to be beaten up or even killed. You’d been bothered enough when you’d learned that Charlie had killed one of them, even if Ethan had been a horrible, horrible man.

John staggers past you, following Mr. Eko. “Sorry,” you say to him. 

He holds up a hand. “It’s fine, (Y/N). It was a long shot anyway.”

“Good luck looking for him.”

“Thanks.”

And then they, too, are gone into the jungle. You can recognize where you are now, even though it’s still dark. You’re close to the hatch, which means all you have to do is turn a little bit and keep walking and then you’ll be back at camp.

You gnaw on your lips as you walk. I really hope I don’t regret this, you think.

You’re surprised to find that you don’t, even when you learn the next morning about Libby and Ana Lucia’s deaths.

Henry might be a killer, but he didn’t kill you, and that’s gotta mean something, right?

[crestfallercanyon]

I don't think this is long enough to be a real fic, and it's also not polished as I wrote it in a notes app on a plane, but have a little gallavich ficlet:

Title: A Way to Keep the Nice Things Ship: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich Content Warning: Mental Health, Bipolar Disorder, Hallucinations

Ian recognizes that he needs to take his meds, and maybe even book an appointment, solely based on what he sees when he walks into the kitchen that morning.

Still, he can’t help but stare.

Their apartment floor has little knots in the designing of the boards, trying to fake wood grain, knolls where if it were a tree — and if it were ever real — may have held a nest once. Ian has thought about that before, the potential creatures that could have called their cabinets or their floors home, has imagined it when he’s tired or high, always intrigued by the pattern and the choice to try to give the linoleum a life it never actually had.

That’s imagination. Ian can tell when he’s imagining things. Has a very active imagination — very helpful during sex — and it’s especially ramped up when he’s high.

This is different.

Inside one of the knolls this morning there is something blooming. Lush green and yellow moss spills out of the floor and sways in a breeze that doesn’t exist. A night sky exudes from it, a dark purple mist that floats just inches above the ground, thinking with impossibly tiny stars. The starts of blue flowers are budding in the darkness of the wood grain, the petals a pale blue that Ian decides are the start of stargazer lilies.

It’s beautiful. It’s mystic and wonderful and if he were a child he’d believe he was about to be chosen for some great adventure. If this were a storybook, he’d be Lucy in the coat closet on her way to Narnia. Except he is not a child, this is not something he’s imagining. If he reaches down, he could touch the moss and confirm it to his own senses, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t because he’s lucid enough to know this is not real. Worse than a mirage, this is a hallucination. It makes Ian sad, distantly, that something so pretty is such a warning sign. Not that unlike how venomous snakes are vivid in color, or how poisonous flowers try to draw the eye.

Mickey walks by him, headed for coffee, another solid reason this isn’t real. Mickey would notice something like this. Instead he asks, “Hey. Whatcha staring at?”

This is beautiful, and Ian’s the only one who can see it, and that in and of itself is the problem.

“Just thinking,” Ian lies. It’s not meant to be a permanent lie. He just doesn’t want to lose the sight of something like this so quickly.

Shuffling footsteps, the sound of poured coffee. The misty galaxy above the ground swirls up, mimicking the twister that’s surely in Mickey’s coffee cup. Then the strong scent of coffee is filling his nose, and Mickey is right next to him, holding a cup for him.

“Ian,” Mickey starts, already in that firm tone of hey, do not bullshit me, which Ian doesn’t mean to, he swears. “What are you staring at?”

“Can you get me my meds?” Ian asks, not taking his eyes off the little world in the floor. “I haven’t taken ‘em yet this morning.”

Time, which already stretches and shrinks like a weak rubber band in the dark morning anyway, is particularly hard to track when Ian’s off like this, because he swears it’s two seconds before Mickey’s back and shoving a piece of toast in his mouth. When Ian obediently chews — because he is listening Mick, okay, he swears — Mickey also holds up his pills and water.

“Would you look at me for a second?” Mickey’s voice is no longer in the firm tone, but is a little wary, and a little small, and Ian picks up his head immediately.

Ian smiles at him. Gulps down his pills, wraps an arm around Mickey, and with his water wet mouth he kisses Mickey right on his temple. “Mornin’”

Mickey smiles back, but his eyebrows are furrowed. “Where’ve you been this morning?”

Ian looks down. The little greenery is still on the floor. Meds don’t work that fast.

“Sometimes… sometimes I hate that I have to take my meds.” That sentiment has every alarm in Mickey’s body ringing, Ian knows, so he grabs him tight to assure him. “Not like that. It’s just — sometimes, what I see is nice. It’s actually nice and good a thing I get to have that no one else gets to see. But I have to stop it, because — because it’s not right.” Ian blinks, looks around, and Mickey hands him his coffee. Ian hugs him tight again. “Am I making any sense?”

Mickey considers. Nods, though it’s not all that confident, but he understands well enough. “What have you been looking at?”

Ian grimaces. “Not sure it’s your kind of thing. But it was nice.”

“C’mon. Tell me.”

“I don’t want to worry you.”

“Not worried.” Mickey puts his hand in Ian’s hair. “Want to hear it. Not just the bad shit, though you know I want hear that, too. But just, if it’s nice, then I want to know that stuff, too.”

Ian hums. Takes a sip of his coffee.

Then he decides, why not? Of all the stuff they’ve had to hear from each other and their families over the year, this is hardly the thing that’s going to send Mickey running.

Ian looks down and starts to detail it. Gets really specific, because if Mickey wants to know, then Ian’s going to try to help him see it too. It must take some time, because Mickey hops up on the back of their couch and is almost done with his cup by the time Ian’s finished. Ian’s own cup is a little cold and could use about twenty seconds in the microwave.

He looks at Mickey, and isn’t sure what he’s going to find. Finds himself grinning when he sees the fond smile that’s on Mick’s face.

“So, yeah. That’s all.”

“Sounds nice, Red.”

“Yeah.”

Ian isn’t sure what to say anymore. Is weirdly embarrassed to be so enthralled by something like this. Something that is not even real. Mick’s probably able to tell that Ian’s squeamish about it, because he doesn’t say anything more. Simply drops off the back of the couch and walks up to him. Pats his cheek.

“Let’s get ready to go, eh?”

_____

It’s not until a few days later that it’s brought up again, and it’s not even direct. A journal that Ian was given by a counselor maybe a year ago that was meant for him to get into journaling and he never could, is set out on the nightstand.

“Where’d you find this?” Ian asks.

There’s a moment where he thinks Mickey is going to act like he wasn’t the one who pulled it out. However, there’s only two of ‘em in this place, so it had to be, so he gives it up before he even begins.

“Thought you could write the nice shit down,” he says, trying to sound casual, but Ian knows how much he’s been turning this over in his head. “Or whatever you want. But that way it doesn’t totally go away. Since, y’know, you don’t like that you have to lose that kind of thing.” Mickey shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but Ian’s eyes are bugging out of his head. “Know Franny would love hearin’ about what you see. Debbie says she can’t read the kid enough fairytales.”

Ian blinks at him. His heart aches in a soft way, over ripened fruit, overwhelmed by sweetness.

He walks over to Mickey with his arms open. “C’mere.”

“Oh, don't go gettin' all doe-eyed—”

“Hug me, asshole.”

Mickey scoffs, wraps one arm around him, but when Ian drapes himself all over him, Mickey laughs and wraps both arms around him. Ian nuzzles into his neck. “Thanks for watchin’ out for me,” he mumbles.

Mickey’s hand buries into Ian’s hair, and Ian sighs. “‘Course. You’re my husband.”

[jest-a-genetta]

What has been your favorite episode of The Edge of Sleep? I think mine was either episode five or episode six.

That's a really hard question, both because I really liked parts of all of them, and because I watched it all in one go and kinda forgot where each episode starts/ends 😅 Probably 2 or 5 if I had to pick.

Some spoilers below, I'm gonna elaborate a bit

2 was just a solid intro to all the characters, and I appreciated Dave just sprinting like 3 miles just for Katie to attack him when he broke in. And the radio station was a nice addition that wasn't in the podcast. I did like that part.

And then all of 5. The plane trip, the hallucinations. Loved the editing choices there. I did appreciate Mateo not dying, that was a pleasant surprise.

3/4 were probably my least favorites, not because they were bad, just cause the Elephant actually freaks me out a bit. But again, some really cool filming choices in there. I don't speak movie nerd, but I still really liked whatever they were doing with the style here XD

6 was good, but I did get very lost and confused. Tho I'm fairly certain that was the point, so I can't really count it against them. They certainly acheived that.

I've seen some people saying the show starts slow, or the pilot wasn't really compelling or whatever, but I actually really liked ep 1. Maybe I'm biased, having heard the podcast before, but I did really like it. 5 minutes in I was yelling "WAIT IT'S DIFFERENT? I'm not emotionally prepared for the unexpected, oH NO" But Mateo being totally down to throw hands for Dave was great, and "the first chick who's into weird half-asian dudes with a sensual voice" will live in my head rent free for weeks". And I appreciated Linda having a good moment to just scream when her friend died. I mean, that was a very reasonable reaction to the whole situation. I'm glad we got to see one of the characters just lose it for a second, cause same honestly. Huh, maybe 1 was a favorite too XD