#smart array

[kingofconundrums]

He has autism in that way some old men don't know they have it and are really obsessed with trains but instead of trains its spaceships

[magpie-trove]

Tbh last three episodes here felt really kinda meandering

[smartratework]

pvc electric red and blue wire #smartratework#tumblr

[mossmotha]

Dandelion fluff

Carrying dreams of wishes for

Those who still have hope

[xoxochb]

percy was always ever so gentle when it came to you.

the same boy, yes, that won a fight against the god of war, spoke awfully to zeus, survived tartarus and back and had a kill count far beyond five thousand monsters.

though, when it came to you, it was incredibly easy to forget his reputation as a demigod. not that it had gained him privileges in camp, but often is was preferred to be seen as a real human being for once. and he was lucky you saw him like that through everything.

your tenderness towards him did not go unnoticed, the same with reciprocated. whether it was simple gestures like helping you bathe after a long day, waking up early to make you breakfast, soft love-making accompanied by sweet nothings or the warmth of his arms as you cry, he would always treat you with the most care.

his kisses, unsurprisingly, were just as loving as everything else he did. no matter if he was attempting to intertwine your bodies, devour you, or kiss you just because he could.

today, he had wanted nothing more just to kiss you because he was allowed to. training had been the same as it ever was, long and making his muscles ache. he’d even skipped both breakfast and lunch in order to sneak back to his cabin if only for five minutes just to check on you.

you were fine, of course, but that didn’t stop him.

the millisecond he had gotten away from his demigod obligations, percy had rushed his quickest back to cabin three to do nothing other than twine himself with you in whatever way he could.

you, happily, had obliged to take away his exhaustion of the day— you kiss him over and over and over.

peppered firstly over his face, landing at last to his mouth where you linger repeatedly. one of your hands plays with his dark locks, soothingly to ease off the stress of the day, while the other fists his shirt to keep his body against yours.

the aura of cabin three fills with soft moans, the swapping of saliva and rustling of sheets as both you and percy attempt to fit yourselves into each other.

“perce,” you murmur against his lips. barely audible or coherent as your brain has been turned to mostly mushiness of nothing.

“hmm.” percy doesn’t dare back any farther as his cold hands slip beneath your shirt, rubbing your side absentmindedly. “sweet girl.”

you stifle a smile to prevent breaking the array of kisses. “I.” kiss. “love.” kiss. “you.” your lips don’t leave again following this.

percy’s do, though. “I love— mphm— I love you.”

yeah, that’s doing nothing to help the grin that forces to grace your mouth. you’re forced to break apart when it grows wide and percy pulls back with a playful pout.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry, I know.” you cover your smile with your hand.

percy is quick to take your wrist, however, kissing the inside of it. “I want to see you.”

you peck his lips as an apology. “say something mean so we can continue.”

“me? say something mean to you?” percy shakes his head and moves your arm around his shoulder. “in my entire life, I can promise you, that will never happen, sweet girl.”

“well then you’re going to have to wait.”

“I can. I’m not sure about the rest of me.”

the bulge in his pants pressing against your thigh tells you all you need to know about that.

your smile reduces to a ‘seriously?’ look, and percy takes the opportunity to claim your lips again. smart, if you say so yourself.

but you had to pull away again minutes later because percy couldn’t stop smiling this time regardless..

[omgeto]

☆ COVER UP — tattoo artist!GETO SUGURU

summary: all you wanted was a cover up tattoo to replace the name your ex left on you. you didn't think you'd be leaving the tattoo shop with a replacement for your ex's tattoo and a replacement for him as well.

wc: 3k

cw: afab!reader, geto gives you backshots, he's kinda obsessed w/ your ass here, unprotected sex (since I forget condoms) BUT he's a gentleman pulls out </3 your kinda a meanie. he's kinda a meanie so light angst (?) but barely. MDNI

an: haven't posted a longer work in a hot minute, but here is how you meet tattoo artist boyfriend!geto soooo give this one a chance big fanks to my lil twat @kazushawty for helping me out and reading bits of it.

as you push open the heavy glass door of ‘cursed ink studios,’ a subtle bell chimes softly, announcing your presence. instantly, the atmosphere inside crackles with an electric charge. the air is thick with the intoxicating scent of ink, mingling with the sterile bite of antiseptic. the walls are adorned with vivid flash art form a chaotic tapestry, while the rhythmic hum of a tattoo gun echoes through the room.

and there he is, geto suguru – a tall, enigmatic figure with jet-black hair and sleeves of mesmerising tattoos that seem to tell stories of their own. he sits at his workbench, surrounded by an array of ink bottles and tattoo machines, his piercing eyes never leaving the art he's creating. a carefully curated playlist of music plays softly in the background, punctuated by the occasional buzzing of the tattoo gun.

he glances up from his intricate work as you enter, his gaze slowly travelling up and down your form. there's a hint of curiosity in his eyes, as though he's wondering why you, of all people, have ventured into his sacred space. his expression, however, suggests that he's far from thrilled about the interruption.

"need something?" he asks, his irritation evident.

"i need a cover-up” you swallow your nerves, holding your head high, your voice steady, ”my ex's name."

geto raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by your request. "ex's name, huh? you people never learn."

your jaw clenches at his condescending tone. "well, i'm here now, so can you do it or not?"

he continues to scrutinise you, his gaze feeling like a judgmental weight. finally, he nods, albeit reluctantly. "fine, show me."

with a sigh of resignation, you turn around, your heart pounding as you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to reveal the offending name covering your left ass cheek. it's a constant reminder of a relationship gone wrong, and you're more than ready to be rid of it.

"this won't be easy," he mutters, his fingers cool against your skin as he traces the outline of the name. his touch lingers, just a little too long, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. his fingers, skilled and confident, continued to trace the inked letters of your ex's name on your skin — almost toyingly. and you could feel the chill of the tattoo parlour's air-conditioning contrasted by the warmth of his touch.

his voice, though still gruff, held a trace of disgust "who did this?" he asks, not looking up from the tattoo.

you hesitate, your memories of that past relationship flooding back. "my ex-boyfriend," you reply tersely.

geto's fingers stop their tracing, and he lets out a low, almost imperceptible sigh. "you let your boyfriend do a shitty tattoo on you, and you let him make it his name," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "you practically let him brand you."

“is it your job to be such a bitchy artist?” you snap, already fed up by his comments. you’ve heard it from your parents, your friends, ever since you got that trashy tattoo. but couldn't disagree with that sentiment — you knew it was a shit tattoo. “i thought i was paying you for your artistry, not your smart mouth.”

"listen," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "you walk in here with that god awful mess on your skin, and you've got the nerve to criticise my attitude? if you want to be rid of it, you'll do well to keep that attitude in check, sweetheart."

you bite back a retort, realising that you've indeed crossed a line with your comment. there's a palpable tension in the air now, a simmering anger beneath the surface, and it seems that geto has no intention of backing down.

with a deep breath, you swallow your pride and offer a reluctant apology. "i'm sorry," you mutter, a touch of remorse in your voice. "i shouldn't have snapped at you."

he continues to hold your gaze for a moment, his expression still stern, before finally nodding. "apology accepted."

you didn’t actually have an idea of what you wanted for the cover up, you just knew you needed it gone. geto was a highly sought out cover artist so you had no doubt that he’d be able to do you good. with your initial meeting being heated, you thought it was best to leave him to do his thing.

with a sense of relief that the confrontation has subsided, you decide to give geto some space to work his magic. "i'll leave you to it," you say, your voice quieter now, and you turn away from him.

"good," he mutters, his focus fully on his ipad as he starts to sketch, not even looking as you leave the shop. 

geto usually was quick to draw up tattoo sketches for clients, but when it came to you he was stunned — too busy thinking about how your ass looked rather than what he was meant to tattoo on it. from the moment you stepped in his shop, he was intrigued, you didn’t see the type to get work done by him and the marking stretched on your ass didn’t seem like it would belong to someone with an attitude like yours. 

his mind was anything but focused on the design. he couldn't help but replay the encounter with you in his thoughts, your brashness and the way you'd stood your ground, even under his scrutiny.

"why the hell did she get that shitty tattoo?" he mutters to himself, his fingers deftly working his pen. the sketch was beginning to take shape, but his mind kept drifting back to the curve of your ass. he couldn't deny the attraction he felt, and it frustrated him. he was supposed to be a professional, detached from his clients beyond the art he created on their skin. but something about you had thrown him off balance.

“so you ready to get this tatted on you?” is the first thing he asks when you return the following day. you inspect his sketches in awe, of course you never doubted his talent but you didn’t think he’d be able to draw something you wanted without you even having to say.

“well it seems you do live up to your reputation,” you comment with a neutral facade, but you both know that you were downplaying your excitement — you were pleased. and like with any client, that made geto satisfied that he was doing his job correctly. but when he saw the way your eyes lit up when he initially showed you the sketches, it was a sight he wanted to see again. “i guess we can start the tattoo.”

“okay i’ll get my stuff set up, get rid of those,” he says nodding towards your jeans, “and lay down when you’re ready.” you slip yourself out of your bottoms, leaving the itty bitty thong that you knew you’d need for the appointment and that a small part of you hoped he liked.

he pauses when he sees you laying down on the seat in his station, your head resting in your arms, your ass slightly raised.  ‘this is gonna be a long session,’ he thinks to himself as he smirks, shaking his head as he works his way to his seat.

as he sits down, he places the stencil over your ass, and you berate yourself for getting giddy at the feeling of him rubbing over the design to make sure it was in place — wishing that his hand stayed for longer. 

“how are you with pain?” he asks, and from the way you were laying you weren’t able to see the way he was gawping at your ass.

“what type of pain?” you retort.

“y’know the type of pain where someones drilling into your ass for hours,” he comments as if it’s obvious but you both knew his words were hinting at more than just the tattoo.

“choice words there,” you muse, “but any type of pain i’m alright with, so give me your best.”

geto's needle hovers just above your skin, poised for action. "you sure about that?" he murmurs, his voice low and suggestive.

a coy smile tugs at your lips as you respond, "I can handle it if you can."

with a deliberate, almost tantalising slowness, he lowers the needle to your skin. the first touch is a sharp, stinging sensation, but you refuse to flinch. you're determined to hold your own, to meet geto's challenge head-on.

he continues to work, the needle dancing across your skin with a practised precision. the room is filled with the rhythmic sound of the tattoo machine, creating a hypnotic backdrop to your growing tension.

as minutes turn into hours, you find yourself lost in a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. the pain is undeniable, but there's something oddly exhilarating about it. you steal a glance at geto, his intense focus on his work, and you can't help but wonder if he's enjoying this as much as you are.

"still doing okay?" he asks, his tone a mix of concern and something more primal.

you bite your lower lip, suppressing a moan that threatens to escape. "i told you, i can handle it."

geto smirks, his gaze locked on your ass as he continues to tattoo. "you've got quite the threshold for pain. impressive."

“is it really? i'm sure you’ve worked on a lot of other clients with higher thresholds for pain.”

“but none of them have had an ass like yours though,” he mumbles to himself — but you hear him loud and clear, a grin forming on your face at the confession. “anyways, we’re all done now, go ahead and look in the mirror.”

you stand in the full length mirror, your head slightly turned at an angle as you gawp at your ass. your eyes widen seeing what was once your shitty exes name, now turned into a piece of true art. 

“so what d’you think?” he asks, and you didn’t even notice him coming to stand behind you until you felt his breath on the back of your neck, “this shit is hot right?”

“you can say that again,” you agree, keeping your eyes focused on the tattoo, trying to ignore the quickening of your heart beat at the presence of him, “this is really great though, like i couldn’t imagine my ass could look this good after having that tattooed on on it all his time.”

“well no need to imagine anymore,” geto’s face forms a smiling grin, you can tell he was admiring way more than just his artwork, “you mind if i take a picture… for my instagram?” he says, barely asking as his phone is already out of his pocket and is in his hands, he looks up at you for permission and you give a slight nod before he’s snapping away at your ass.

“are you sure this is for your instagram,” you tease, as he continues to take photos crouched down, as he circles your ass with his phone, “or is this just for your personal wank bank?”

“would you like it to be?” he retorts back swiftly, there wasn’t even any mischief in his eyes as he looks up at you, just pure lust.

“um i–” you stutter, only now feeling exposed — as if he hadn’t been working on your ass already for the past six hours.

“don’t get shy on me now,” he coos, standing up to face you head on, “y’gonna let me finish off making you forget that ex or yours or what?”

“be my guest,” you respond, trying to come across as nonchalant, but the eager look in your eyes gave geto all he needed to know. 

he pushes you softly, as he commands, “hands against the mirror and spread your legs.” and you do just that, as he comes behind you, fitting in between your legs perfectly. his hand forces ur back down, deeping the arch of your spine before both of his hands grab onto your ass.

geto really rubs and digs his thumbs into your cheeks, biting his lip at the sight at the way his fingers mould into your ass. “fuckk man,” he groans out, he’s not even in you yet and he was already obsessed with every inch of you. 

he frees his dick from his pants, and pumps it quickly before sliding it across your already gushing slit. you hiss at the contact, a pleased smile working its way on your face as the tip of his dick edges into you.

“s-shit,” you stammer, as he inches himself into you deeper, “w-what about the rest of the shop?”

“what about them?” he shrugs, “you don’t want them to hear naught you’re being right now? HEY GUYS—”

“oi,” you hiss out, your eyes widening as you turn your head to look directly at him.

“i’m just playing, i’m not ready to share you quite just yet,” he retorts, his dick moving in you at an achingly slow pace, “now, keep your eyes focused on the mirror, and you better not let those hands slip.”

before you can respond, he thrust his hips into you as deep as he could, his dick slamming into you. you moan out at the surprising force, trying your best to keep your palms flat on the surface of the mirror, as you stare straight at him — watching how he works his hands from your ass to your hips so he can drive into you with all of his force. 

“this pussy is s-so fucking good,” he praises, the sloppiness of your cunt making it easy for him to slide his dick in and out of you. “oh and this ass,” he continues giving a hard spank on your ass cheek, to emphasise his point, “c’mon throw your ass back on my dick, i wanna see it bounce.”

you fuck him back, doing exactly as he says, your ass meeting his hips with the same amount of force. his spanks encourage you to be quicker, to give him everything he wants. his repeating, strong strokes, have you feeling weaker, your hands slipping as you try to stay up right, when all you want to do is collapse and cum everywhere. 

“f-fuckk it’s too much,” you whine, as he drills into you.

“nah,” he says, shrugging his head, “it’s not enough,” he lifts up his legs, his digits pressing into your deeper, as he now angles his strokes even further into your pussy, hitting your spot with ease. “give it to me harder, i know you can” he encourages, another two swift spanks landing on your ass.

with his continuous contact of your ass and his hips, and the way his dick pushes into you deeper, you felt like you were splitting in two. but you kept going, thinking back to your earlier conversation, you didn’t want to prove him wrong, you wanted to show him that you can handle it, handle him.

geto was practically beaming, licking his lips feverishly at the sight of your fucked out face through the mirror as he watches himself plough into you, your body rocking forward with every thrust. his eyes concentrate on your ass, as he says, “d’you see how your rocking my work on you now?” and you nod dumbly, too busy trying to reach your climax to string a sentence together, “so fuck that ex of yours and his shitty ass tattooing, from now on you only can me on your body, you got that?” he asks and you nod again, but he shakes his head, his hand moving from your waist to your chin as he grips it making your eyes stay locked on his through the mirror, “i said do you got that?”

“ahhh s-shit yet i do, i do,” you say, mirroring his words, “i will only have you on my body, ‘promise.”

“good girl,” he approves, giving your chin a squeeze before letting go, “now cum.” 

with those simple words, you release all over him, your stance getting weaker, as you shoot out cum all over his dick. he’s quick to pull out of you though, stroking his dick as he sprays his cum all over your ass, with a deep groan.

your hands are still on the wall, as you take deep breaths, trying to recollect yourself. but you turn around swiftly seeing a flash of a camera behind you, and geto is back to crouching down, with his phone out, taking pictures of your cum covered ass.

“you mind if i keep these in my wank bank forreal this time?” he asks, smirking as you nod, “i’ll take some more later, but i got two questions to ask.”

“and those are…” you say, prompting him to continue.

“first, let me take you out after this?” he asks with a smirk, already knowing the answer. after the way he just dicked you down, you’d be a fool not to let him wine and dine you, “second, y’gonna come suffocate my face with that ass of yours or not?” you couldn’t even answer the second question since he’s pulling you down to the floor with him, with a joyous grin on his face.

AN: IGNORE THE FACT THAT HE CUMS ALL OVER UR FRESH TATTOO. LIKE JUST IGNORE IT. just focus on the fact that you have a lovely ass and geto loves it too. but yes do you want to see more, I HAVE ENOUGH IDEAS TO EVEN MAKE A LIL MASTERLIST FOR IT. I love tattoo artist boyfriend!geto so so much, like when u guys become an established relationship it actually gets so good. BUT I DONT REALLY LIKE THIS ONE, BUT IF U GUYS FW IT I PROMISE ILL ACTUALLY WRITE AND POST THE ONES I LOVE. BUT I FELT LIKE I HAD TO WRITE THIS FIRST SO YOU COULD SEE HOW U AND GETO STARTED. LMK UR THOUGHTS

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Part 2 to Life Line

(I ain't) Sorry

Pairing: cheater!Price x wife!reader

CW: infidelity. angst. idk is price a cuck now? 18+

Middle fingers up, put them hands high. Wave it in his face, tell him, boy bye (sorry). Tell him, boy bye (sorry) boy bye. Middle fingers up, I ain't thinking 'bout you.

It's been six months since the new rules of John Price's marriage had been established. In public, he is still Captain John Price, a fearless leader, highly decorated, and on track to be a major. John Price was thought to have it all. Two gorgeous children, a darling little girl named Iyana aged six and a charming baby boy named Jackie aged four (who everyone says looks like John made him in the same fashion as a sea sponge. That is to say, through asexual reproduction because they look so much alike).

To top it all off, he had a gorgeous and smart wife who worked with a notable contractor that dealt with information gathering, sorting, and code breaking. Said to be highly requested and sought after to work with military operations, both official and private military based.

Yes, Captain John Price to the public eye, had it all. Despite the blood on his hands, the blackness on his soul and actions, the Lord above gave him a loving family. He was always the man of the hour when he walked into a room.

Right now, though, he didn't feel like a man of the hour that he was thought to be. Right now, he watches his daughter pedal her little pink bike around the front driveway. Her hair ribbons are lopsided, giggles echoing on the wind. It almost sounds and feels like a dream. She's got light up fairy wings, a fairy dress, and tiara, all high-quality custome made in an array of colors and gem stones. It's cute. He thinks it is cute, and it makes his little girl happy. What he can't stand, however, are the pink and white rhinestone cowboy boots. They cost a pretty penny, and she wears them everywhere. She wears them with every outfit.

John hates it. Or better yet, he hates where these items come from.

His son, while he has always been easily pleased, has particularly enjoyed his little hobby horse toy. The saddle has his name painted on the side in deep blue letters that stand out against the deep brown wood.

John hates the damn horse toy and also hates the suspected origins. Both of these things are reminders that his marriage is on the rocks and that it's a reflection of his mistakes. Another man buying his children toys. He has little doubt that it is the same man he is forced to work with.

He leans against the support beam of the front porch, cigar to his lips. He was watching his daughter and keeping also keeping an ear out for his son, who slept in the house. The three of them are waiting for the fourth member of the household. A sleek black car pulls up to the house and Iyana abandons her bike to greet the love of John's life.

You.

His darling, sweet, loving wife, who he wouldn't trade for the world. Even if you are being difficult. It doesn't matter though he's sure this tantrum can't go on forever.

Now you wanna say you're sorry. Now you wanna call me cryin'. Now you gotta see me wildin'. Now I'm the one that's lyin'. And I don't feel bad about it. It's exactly what you get. Stop interrupting my grinding. (You interrupt my grinding)

You shut off the car, and the door swings open. Your saccharine voice carries just about your daughter. "My love! I've missed you!" Nimble fingers push sunshades back onto your forehead as you lean down to sweep her up into a hug.

"Do you like my dress? It came in the mail today!" She shouts, "Daddy helped me into it when we got home from school!"

"It's lovely, my love. You look like a pretty fairy princess." Your eyes appraise her dress and accessories appreciatively. When you finally lay your eyes on John, you offer him a polite smile. "John, I'm glad you could get off early to pick the kids up today."

John isn't focused on your words. His eyes are clearly looking you over, desperatewith want. Since the new rules were put in place and boundaries made known, he has made it clear that he misses you. Each time, you reminded him of the rules and that he was allowed to see other people. You watch as his eyes finally land on the space above your cleavage. Right on the dainty gold chain with only one charm on it.

"You didn't wear that to work, did you?" John grumbles as you walk past him.

"John, am I not allowed to wear jewelry now?" You ask, already over this conversation and wear it is about to head to.

"Sweetheart." He still calls you that. The pet name bristles you, but you tolerate it for the sake of your children. "At least grant me the decency of not wearing his bloody branding in public."

"Iyana, go pack your bag for grand mum's and poppop's house." You usher her towards the steps. She dutifully says yeah and how she's packing all of her new little dresses. Finally, alone with him, you turn to face your husband. "Why does it matter, John?"

A deep sigh escapes him, and he's a bit flustered with frustration. You suppose you'd be frustrated, too, if work was hell. And to be clear, it was only hell because of the new long-term assignments he and several different teams were coordinating on. You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting patiently for his answer.

"It matters because it bothers me." He finally gets out, "it causes me to feel upset."

You take note of the carefully chosen words. Efforts of his therapy sessions peaking through. While you still won't go with him, he goes once a week when he isn't deployed. The habit started a month into your new reality. Shortly after, he began to be a more present father to the kids. Family weekends that he plans (which you suspect he does as often as possible to keep you with him), attending parent teacher conferences and evenings, and just generally paying more attention when he is home. It's great for the kids, but it's too little too late for you.

"Okay, John." You dismiss him and make your way to the kitchen with his footsteps following close behind. The conversation is clearly not over for you both.

"Was work fine today? I didn't see you at the all hands meeting on base." He leans against the kitchen island.

"My schedule was packed, so I sent my junior to fill in for me. Another PMC is contacting the company they requested me specifically." You dig around the fridge searching for a snack. His eyes are on you again. They always are these days. Since you reentered the workforce and quickly rose in rank, you've changed. You're more confident, more stern, and have leaned into the feeling of being desirable again by other men and women. Opportunities flowed easier to you. Your former boss had welcomed you back with open arms. Her exact words were something along the lines of "Mrs. Price, it's good to have you back. Now, the numbers can make sense again, and I can prepare to retire!"

John huffs, "Yeah, I saw. Kate was annoyed the entire time with the poor girl. And she was too afraid to work with Simon."

You find a snack and smile. "How is Simon?"

"You should know." He bites back with a bit of force. His blue eyes shift away from you, "You aren't sleeping with my lieutenant, are you?" It's a soft question you almost miss. He almost sounds insecure at the idea of one of his boys looking at you that way. And with the rules that are now in place, there's nothing to stop you but their friendship to him.

"John... Now, why would I do such a thing?" You sneer and then laugh. "There isn't anything going on between me and Simon."

"Then why won't you speak with me on base?" He furrows his brow. "People are literally looking at you two funny." And the 'They're looking at me with concern' is left unsaid.

"Because he is the chosen liason I picked for your team?" The scoff you let out is near comical, "Don't be so vain, John Price. If I was going to sleep with anyone it would be Kyle as he is the only one that apologized for not saying anything sooner about you fucking around behind my back. Maybe Johnny because he's good-looking. Tragic that they both are loyal to you, a skill they picked up from somewhere. "

His face turns red with agitation. His eyes go back to the necklace and the charm around your neck. It's a small, dainty, gold little heart, and when the light catches it, an engraved series of numbers and letters can be seen faintly. "So if not them, then who?"

"You know who. Don't be daft." You shrug your shoulders, "I'm gonna be gone all weekend after we drop the kids off at your parents. So you have the house to yourself."

"I'd much rather prefer we spent time together." He tries and smiles sweetly at you.

"I can't. My friend is dying to spend time with me, and he insists upon it, or he will simply die."

It's a beat of silence for a moment. Before he looks away from you. "Is he the one who sent those gifts to the kids? Which I don't appreciate, by the way."

"No. I'm not seeing him tonigt." You say leaving the kitchen, "Phillip has to go back to the States tonight. Won't be back till three days before you all move out."

"Could you at least tell that fuck to not give my kids gifts. It's rather rude, don't you think?" He glares.

"Phillip didn't give the kids those gifts. He gave me money, and then I got them things they've been asking for."

"And the necklace?" He asks. He almost seems like he doesn't want to know. But he keeps digging the hole deeper.

"From my other boyfriend." You glance over your shoulder at him, "instead of worrying about me and who I'm seeing. You should worry about yourself."

The tension is only cut at the sound of your daughter calling for help. She wants help with closing her backpack up.

That night after you and John played happy family infrint of his parents, the drive back home was tense. A quiet that could be heard from miles away even as the radio played, trying its best to ease both of your nerves. It's subtle, but you notice how his eyes cut to you every so often.

"Sweetheart."

"The kids aren't with us John."

"Don't be difficult please."

Your eyes hurt with how they roll. "What is it John?"

"I want to know when we can give us another try." He asks quietly, "I miss you." He grips the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white. "I don't want you running around that fuck Graves, or whoever else your tend to see. You're my wife and I'm your husband. We should at least try to fix our marriage."

You don't say anything and keep your eyes in the passing scenery. This conversation isn't new. It comes up often and when it does you fight like hell to hold your ground. Another deep sigh and you wait in silence for him to continue.

"I love you, always will and never stopped." He says, and the sentiment is there. The way he says it reminds you of days when you were ignorant to his infidelity.

But then your mind conjures up the rage and hurt you experienced when you first saw what was in that folder the private investigator gave you. The embarrassment you felt when you asked Simon, Kyle and Johnny if they knew. They way that none of them could look you in the eyes for weeks. Or the grief that resurface each time your mind wanders over the memory of how he found someone who was similar to you in appearance from before your first child together.

"John, can we not tonight?" You simply avoid his eyes, "We can still get a divorce or you can deal with the way things are. I'm not revisiting any conversations about us or therapy."

"Are you doing this to hurt me back?" He asks. It's the most direct he's ever been with admitting that his actions hurt you. Before it was always a deflection. He wasn't right in the head after missions, he was trying to cope with the miscarriage, anything but outright saying he was a cheater. The tone of his voice cracks a bit with sorrow, but you don't budge.

"No." You state and turn up the radio, ending the conversation.

The car rolls to a stop in the driveway and you hurry out of the car and into the house. You don't want anymore questions or comments from him about the marriage he ruined. You don't want to deal with any nasty emotions that can't be fixed with the wine and sex that is waiting for you. An hour later you're finishing up packing, the house is quiet. The shrill ring of the doorbell pierces the silence of the house. It takes a moment but you hear John walking around downstairs towards the door. There's a bit of a sick thrill that shivers through you at who you know he will find on the otherside of that door. It won't be Phillip, he had already sent his messages that he would call you when he's back in the states.

You zip up your suitcase, check your hair once more in the mirror. When you get down the steps you're mer with John's more than angry glare that seems more hurt than anything. It's ignored as you pass the living room where he is.

You swing open the door, "Hey sweety."

"Hallo Meine Liebe." You're greeted with a hug from a strong embrace, "I'm hoping the guys will leave us be this weekend. They have been irritating since seeing you today and calling your charm necklace a fancy set of dog tags."

In the living room John closes his eyes as he hears you leave. Your laugh trails on the end of your words. And his heart absolutely aches at the idea of you with another man, much less another one he doesn't really like.

"Kökö, your I.D number is on it. Of course they would say that."

a.n: one more part and then I'm done with this mini series. Thank you all for supporting me.

All Night (final)

[philtstone]

baffled by ppl who assume gus is not “smart” just bc he’s not operating at 12 mach speed raw garlic adhd disaster intelligence lmao. putting aside the fact that he passed his formal gifted kid test in middle school (bc those things are never true markers of capacity) he’s more than competent at both inductive and deductive reasoning with minimal to no formal training, has extensive hobby and professional knowledge of a wide array of scientific and technically specific topics, and can keep up with mr 12 mach speed raw garlic adhd disaster intelligence with very little effort. like. what is the bar for smartness here???? he never realized his true academic/career potential because hes a neurotic loser, not because he isnt brilliant. every character on psych is a neurotic loser with underrealized potential. he’s in great company and their collective need to self actualize is in fact the whole point

[gamesetart]

sweet 'n easy

Art thought dating you would be enough. He's content to have your heart, wait until marriage to have your body, too. But it's proving really difficult when you look like that.

tags: art donaldson x fem! reader, open relationship, guided masterbation, reader's kind of messy in this one (corruption), religious themes/corruption of religious themes. nsfw. minors DNI.

a/n: this is part of what im referring to as the open relationship au and im more than expecting to write more about this dynamic! im also very open to suggestions about it

Art Donaldson is a Good Christian Boy. He's a good, smart young man. He wears his thin silver purity ring on his left ring finger. He wears a delicate silver cross on a chain around his neck. He used to sing in the church choir, and now he spends his Sundays volunteering with the children's sector and frequenting church picnics. If it wasn't for tennis, he'd probably be a priest.

You're not right for him, and he knows it. Guys like him aren't made to marry girls like you - girls with low-cut tops that show off the top hem of your lacy electric purple bra. Girls who wear low, low-cut jeans with your matching purple thong hanging out the back. Girls with butterfly-shaped tattoos hovering on your lower back. Girls who spend weekends drinking and clubbing and dancing with absolutely no room for Jesus.

But there's just something about you. Maybe it's your attitude, the way your hand flies up in class whenever you know the answer to a question, the way you speak, with such clarity, such conviction. Maybe it's the way you walk with your friends across campus, beautiful and assertive, a pack of wild hounds. You're terrifying to him. A force of nature, a thunderstorm. Art's managed to get caught up in your jet stream, but it doesn't mean he's any less scared of falling out. You and all your hot, brash, party-girl friends. You and the 'bitch pack', as some of his friends have taken to calling you and yours. The sorority girl, frat party, dim clubs, bitch pack. Girls like you don't give guys like him the time of day: you're too pretty, too powerful, far too high up on an entirely different social ladder.

But you're different. You're sweet. He's watched you stop to pet stray kittens. He's seen you volunteering to donate blood at the campus blood drives. He's seen you stop to help a girl pick up her books even though you were already late to class. He's seen your notes in his biology lecture, your cute, bubbled handwriting and your array of gel pens. He's seen you buy an extra coffee at the campus cafe for a friend. People contain multitudes, or whatever, right?

So maybe it's no surprise when you end up paired up on an assignment and you bring him back to your dorm room. Maybe he shouldn't have been so stunned by the boy band posters and the stacks of fantasy novels and the stuffed bear sitting on your bed. Maybe he shouldn't have been thrown off by your framed pictures - family, friends - and your collection of Beatles CDs. Just a girl. A normal, nice girl. Who lays out all her notes for him, glances up with a sweet smile, and asks,

"Where d'you wanna start?"

He didn't mean for it to go any further than that. For the study visits to start happening at night, after dinner. For you to start blowing off club nights to curl up on your plush blue shag carpet next to art, pointing out lines of text and highlighting things with a bright pink marker. For you to start eating with him at lunch, talking about your lecture, laughing over some stupid thing your professor said or did. For him to start seeing you, really seeing you, and liking that you saw him, too. It happened before he even registered it. Somewhere, somehow, Art Donaldson fell in love.

It's different than how he felt with Tashi. This isn't that painful, all-consuming desire to please, to have her notice him, the obsession with the idea of her and her tennis. This feels sweeter, kinder. This feels like what he used to read about: fireworks in his heartbeat, butterflies in his stomach, the giddy thrill of First Love. A slower, ennobling sort of love.

If he had it his way, he'd date you. Flowers. Expensive dinners by candlelight. Picnics. The works. Court you for the four years you were at Stanford together, then propose once you graduated. Spend a few years engaged so he could do his tennis, make a good amount of his own money. Save until he could plan a dream wedding. Honeymoon somewhere pretty and exotic, like Bali or Punta Cana. Then the country house and the kids, the white picket fence. Except, Art doesn't really ever get things his way, does he?

"I... I don't know," you say slowly, digging your heels into your carpet. You can't meet his sad blue eyes. You can't bear to. Girlfriend. Boyfriend. It feels alien, even in your head.

He stares at you, crestfallen. Your heart plummets and you race for an explanation, for some way to explain this without blaming him. Because it's not Art at fault, it's his Faith.

"It's not that I don't like you!" you scramble. "I do, really, Art, I do. I just... a girl has... needs, you know? There are things I'd want that I can't ask you to give me. Things I can't take from you."

You both know what it is. You'd never ask him to give up on or waver in his faith for you. Never. You like Art how he is. But you know you'd be wanting. You know you can't wait until your wedding night.

"I... I'm just not the dating type, Art," you explain mournfully. "And you don't want to date a girl like me, anyway, trust me. You deserve someone nice."

"But... you are nice," Art says, and he really does look like you've just torn his heart out and stomped on it. It's horrible. It's awful. And you feel like a monster for doing it, but what can you do?

He doesn't have a solution until a full week later. He pretends (to you, and himself) that he came up with it all on his own, when in reality it was Patrick's idea. Patrick's suggestion, murmured over the phone in cloying low tones, luring him in like sailor to siren, bee to honey, moth to flame. Art, for all his cleverness, for all his ability to read Patrick like a book, could not see it. He trusted Patrick. He should have, he's sent Patrick some of your pictures, talked about you endlessly. But Patrick was on tour, far, far away, where he could do no harm. And Patrick was taken, as he was so keen to remind Art all the time.

"She doesn't have to fuck you, man," Patrick muses. "Date her. Be her good boy, be her fuckin' sweetheart. She can get dicked down with someone else."

"You're suggesting my girlfriend cheat on me?" Art laughs, and even saying it, my girlfriend, even in hypothetical, makes his heart do a flip.

He can practically picture Patrick's face, screwed up with a mixture of pity and disdain. Poor Art. "Nah, man. I'm suggesting an open relationship, you know? Let her fuck who she wants, she's gonna come home to you."

The conviction in Patrick's voice makes Art's heart somersault. Because there's something about that idea that makes his pulse quicken. Patrick's right. You'll come home to him, your heart - the thing that really matters - will be his. He doesn't like the possessive thing that curls up in his chest and purrs at the idea. But he doesn't fight it.

"What if you didn't have to wait with me?" Art asks.

He's twirling a highlighter over his fingers. Cross-legged on your plush duvet, working at a piece of spearmint chewing gum. Gum you'd offered him, gum that you now kept a small stash of in your desk drawer for evenings just like this. The project you'd been paired up on was long over, the proud 96% sitting in your Stanford grading inbox. Now you're just regular homework buddies. Art sought you out for homework he missed because he was at practice and lecture notes he didn't get. You don't mind. You enjoy it, actually. You just wish you could give him more. Hate that you couldn't be what he deserved. It almost feels like leading him on, when he sits with you until the wee hours, sharing diagrams and passing your textbook back and forth. When he brings you your morning coffee before class, or you bring sandwiches and Gatorade to his practices.

Except now, apparently, he has a solution.

"What?" you ask, blinking at him. "What d'you mean?"

Art flushes. Soft pink. Mostly around the ears, you've noticed, red against the gentle gold of his curls. Evening rose.

"I mean, what if..." he looks away. "You know. You went out with me. Dated me. But you could... 'hook up' with other people when you needed to."

You stare at him. Dumbfounded. Art Donaldson. Is sitting on your bed, asking you for an open relationship? Are you dreaming? Has the world suddenly gone mad? Did you go to bed last night and wake up in an alternate dimesion?

"You... are you suggesting... what I think you're suggesting?" you ask faintly.

He nods, ears burning a truly impressive shade of crimson. You suppose you should be flattered, really, the lengths he's going to date you. Most guys would have given up by now, egos bruised, feelings hurt, hearts shattered. And with most guys, you would have been firmer, clearer, colder. Meaner. But Art isn't most guys. Art is sweet.

"I-- shit, Art, wouldn't you rather just date some other girl like you?" you say helplessly.

"I don't want another girl, I want you," he replies plainly. Like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like there's no other answer.

And that's all it takes for you to agree. It's impossible to say no to those baby doll eyes. The two of you set ground rules - you don't tell him who or where or how, just that it happened. He doesn't ask you any questions. No one leaves you any marks. Immediate friends, such as Art's tennis circle and his church friends, are off limits. And that's that. He's your boyfriend now.

Art thought it would suffice. He likes being with you. Holding your hand while you walk to class. Seeing you in the stands when he plays a match. Chaste little pecks here and there. But you're like a pit of quicksand, a hurricane. You draw him in quicker than he thought possible, and now he can't breathe, can't think, can't move. The corruption is slow, certain, and inescapable.

He starts to find himself wanting more.

A kiss in his dorm room that deepens instead of stops, one hand cupping your jaw, the other floating to rest on the small of your back, above the waist of your low jeans, on the warm, bare skin there. A glance that feels more than affectionate, his eyes roving over your collarbone, the glint of your skin in the sun, the line of your bra beneath your sheer, tight shirt. He sees you smile at another guy and a hot flash of jealousy surges through him as he wonders if this is one of the guys you're fucking, if that guy, that random piece of shit, gets to touch you, see you, feel you. He tamps it down, and it feels too little, too late.

You'd be a fool not to notice. Stupid, not to feel the press of his hard-on when he hugs you from behind. Not to sense the shift in the way he kisses you, tongue slipping past your lips, hands sliding down further than they usually do. He plays it off, always. An accident. The heat of the moment. But you know. And because you're weak, because you're a terrible person, because ruining Art Donaldson is the most beautiful thing to ever happen to you, you let him.

"Art, do you ever touch yourself?"

He falls off his chair in his hurry to spin around and look at you. From the floor of your dorm, he stares with wide blue eyes and pink cheeks. "Wha--"

You shrug. "You know. Do you ever..." you make a crude gesture with your hand, and he buries his face up to his nose in his collar.

"No," he says, muffled into his tee shirt. "It's sinful."

It takes every fibre of your being not to laugh. He's so precious, so pure, sometimes you wonder why a guy like him could ever be interested in you at all. Your looks are one thing - you know you're hot. But Art likes you. He likes you even when he can't fuck you. He liked you even when you told him you wouldn't date him. He likes you because you're you. Which makes you feel a little shitty about what you do next, but you can't help it.

"So, what, when you're hard, what do you do?" you press casually. "Send up a Hail Mary and wait?"

Art's ears, which peek out over his shirt collar, are so red they could have been on fire. He shakes his head, a little frantically. He flushes easily, you notice, blood flowing quickly whenever he's even mildly embarrassed. It conjures images of his cock, whatever it might look like, red and aching with need. And you feel a lot less bad, the mental image of Art's dick fuelling the way you lean over, sliding off your chair to join him on the floor. You kneel, hands resting on your knees, and you know he's getting an eyeful of your tits. You keep your eyes on his face.

"Show me," you murmur. "I won't touch you. I won't even touch myself. I just wanna see."

He stares at you like you've asked him for his social security number and all his credit card info. Which, honestly, he probably would have given up a little easier. And you're an awful person, because you know the effect you've had on him, especially these days, you know that Art will probably do anything you ask of him, just for the pleasure of pleasing you.

"Please?" you wheedle, cocking your head to one side lightly, staring up at him through your lashes.

And, really, how could he say no to that?

"I-- okay," he says, and he tries to pretend like he's relenting a lot more than he actually is. Pretends like he's doing you a huge favour, as if his cock isn't straining at the mere idea.

Art doesn't jerk off often. He's only ever used his hand once - the single time Patrick showed him. After that, he'd cried in the bathroom and washed his hands so many times he got a contact allergy. But he's figured out an alternative. One that doesn't involve him touching himself at all. So he slides off his sweats, all too aware of your steady eyes on him. You look at him like you've never seen legs before, as if you haven't seen him at a thousand practices. You look at him like you want to eat him.

He tries to tell himself that's not what's making his cock throb in his boxers. He keeps those on, more for his sake than yours.

"You can lie on my bed," you offer innocently.

Art almost moans. Because it's your bed. Because it's yours, and when he lies down it's almost like lying with you. When he buries his face in the pillow, he can smell you, your vanilla and roses body wash, and, beneath it, the gentle smell of you. It's your sheets he starts to cant into, hips rolling in a familiar motion as he starts to work away the desperate pressure in his cock. It's your pillow he bites in a futile attempt to muffle his moans. And when he looks up, eyes half-lidded, he can see you watching him. You're biting your lip, looking flustered, and it's the cutest he's ever seen you, and he moans your name without meaning you.

You keep your promise, hands folded neatly in you lap as you watch Art rut into your bed like a wild animal, like he's in fucking heat, like your sheets are a person and he's fucking it. Like your sheets are you, you realise, as his eyes meet yours and he whines your name. He's pretending he's fucking you. It's hard not to give up and shove one hand into your panties, but for his sake, you try. Art's moans are almost musical, and with a sharp slap of embarrassment, you're reminded of the sounds he makes when he hits the ball at practice. The same whining grunts of exertion, except now they're fuelled by pleasure, spurred on by the desperate grind of his hips into your sheets, not a fucking tennis ball.

"Oh, oh, fuck," Art's voice gets a little higher. "Oh, fuck, it's so good--"

You can feel yourself soaking through your panties, and you shift slightly. His movements grow a little more erratic, hands balling up into white-knuckled fists into the soft fabric of your sheets. You drink it all in while you can - his ears are red, his cheeks are pink. You follow the curve of his ass in his boxers. You stare at the muscles in his thighs. The bones of his hips.

Art gets breathy when he's about to cum. Breathy, very whiny, almost crying if you're being honest. You file that information away for later.

"Please, please, can I?" he gasps, staring up at you with pupils blown wide with lust. "Can I cum, please, fuck, need it, need it-- you-- fuck, please?"

It's surprising he can even string together a full sentence. "Of course, baby," you murmur, already resolved to not changing your sheets until after you've cum in them too.

Another nugget of information: Art favours a deep grind when he cums, like he's looking for a place to put it, to bury it, looking to breed, to mark, to keep. The sight of him pushing his hips as far into your mattress as he can before he cums, a cry of your name and a shuddering breath slipping from his lips, will probably fuel your nighttime ventures for the next few weeks. You'll use it when you find your next hook up, it'll probably send you right over the edge.

You don't know when you started thinking of Art while you fucked other guys. You just know that now, it's tricky to get off without it. It's hard enough biting your tongue so you avoid saying his name. Now, you'll have the image of his face when he cums locked in your brain forever.

"Shit," Art curses, still breathless, sitting up to examine the sticky mess soaking from the front of his gingham boxers, all the way into your sheets. "Sorry."

You just shake your head. "Don't worry about it. That was... really hot. That's actually how you get yourself off?"

He nods, embarrassed. When he shuffles off to shower, borrowing your shower caddy and a towel, you wait until your door click, and then you practically rip open your nightstand. It takes less than ten minutes with a vibrator and the memory of Art's voice moaning your name for you to add your cum to his. You imagine his hips fucking into you, not your sheets. You imagine pulling his stupid fucking purity ring off and wearing it like some fucked-up engagement ring. His hands are so big, you'd probably have to wear it on your thumb. His hands. You imagine them grabbing you, holding you, sliding up your skin. You wonder what it would be like to have him revere you, not his God. Worship you. You want him to, you think. The idea of him shattering every promise he's ever made, just to be inside you? It sends you over the edge with a muffled cry of his name.

It's that feeling, that messy need for him, that drives you to that frat party. You told him, obviously, and while he seemed sort of put-off when you mentioned you were probably going to sleep with someone, he told you it was okay. Told you to be safe.

You wish you could tell him, but you're worried it'll scare him off. Don't worry, Art, every guy I fuck, I pretend he's you. And now I'll have the knowledge of exactly what you look and sound like when you cum to help me out! Not exactly girlfriend material.

Still, you're thinking of Art when your eyes land on a boy playing beer pong. He's tall, all messy black curls and tanned skin. Handsome, too, if you're being honest, in a messy, frat boy-y kind of way. Hook up hot. You're thinking of Art when he waves you over, holding up a beer like it's a peace offering. You're thinking of Art when you give him your name and ask for his.

"Patrick," he tells you easily. "Patrick Zweig."

[thanksbutno98]

Secret Admirer

John Price x wife!reader OC

Summary: Your Secret Admirer becomes bold enough John Price takes things into his own hands.

Warnings: Stalking, panic attacks, violence, threats of murder, allusions to children being harmed, sexual themes, swearing, not edited.

——————

Summer was cresting and you were having a blast with your family this year. You and John decided to skip doing a holiday and instead focus on your children and the things they wanted to do here. It consisted of many days swimming in the pond, trampoline parks, hiking, museum visits, trips to London, back yard barbecues with all your friends, and numerous camping trips.

You were just coming into work after one of those camping trips, feeling a bit sore. Sleeping on the ground wasn’t the comfiest and when you tried to complain, John shot you down. Telling you, that hefty pay check that hits your bank account was from him sleeping on the ground thousands of miles away. So as your revenge you used him as a pillow and mattress. You slept on top of him so you’d be comfy and kissed him every time he complained and thanked him for the pay check.

It was not a conducive weekend for good work performance. So walking into work you felt worse for wear. Your hair was messier than you liked so you pulled it back into a messy bun that somehow looked cute; which almost never happened. You opted for dark blue jeans instead of slacks, a silk white loose button up, and powder blue heels. The heels were your minimal effort today because you almost broke and wore adidas classics.

“Indy, your husband in the dog house?” Penny one of your long time colleagues and friends asked.

“I mean he did spill his tea all over my favorite blouse this morning- but no.” You were just walking into the museum you worked at and hadn’t seen Penny coming in behind you.

She caught you mid bite of your homemade breakfast wrap, crumbs and sauce decorating the corner of your mouth. With a laugh Penny took it from you and handed you a napkin she had.

Penny didn’t have her coat on and no bag so you assumed she already made it to her desk. Her fiery red hair was neatly tied back, a few of the unmanageable curls framing her face nicely. The freckles on pale skin stood out more today with her bare face and her sweet green eyes were sparkling with mischief. Penny was an endearing, kind, and incredibly smart woman. You felt similarly about her in the way John felt about Soap and Gaz.

“Can I have that back?” After wiping your face you pointed to your breakfast in her hand but she shook her head no.

“Someone sent the whole staff pastries and tea. Marked it as a gift for us from your ‘Secret Admirer.’” Using air quotes she giggled and laced arms with you.

Your eye’s bugged out of your head when Penny tossed your wrap into the trash. You had only gotten two bites and now it was gone. You were about to complain about your food but Penny told you to wait and see because your sweet tooth would be thanking her for tossing it out.

Dragging you upstairs to the offices you two chatted about John and your weekend camping with your kids. You could tell Penny wanted to ask you a few questions about her own ‘admirer’ who you happened to know all too well.

“See!” Penny motioned to the array of pastries laid out in the offices kitchenette.

It was a decent sized room with cream wallpaper that had tiny faded green ferns as the pattern and a sage green wainscoting. When you first walk in, there was the kitchen portion of the break room. The top and bottom cabinets lined the left wall and created an L shape around the corner to the right and stopped three quarters into the room. The cabinet matched the wainscoting, the wood countertops had endless ring stains from coffee mugs. To the right were two round wooden tables with five chairs each.

One entire table was taken up by an assortment of pastries. They were set up as if they were on display, not simply left in boxes for the taking. There were cake stands used and an exquisite vase of tulips placed along side. Almost every pastry you could think of was on this table, even your favorites, they just happened to be the wrong flavor. It was a grandiose sight to see and far past what John would have done; or at least what you saw his normal efforts as. He was also way too busy to get something like this done. Usually he dropped you off lunch or surprised you by taking you out for dinner.

You blinked a few times, absolutely stunned by the sugary display. It took one of your employees thanking you to snap you out of your stupor. Natalie had a plate full of pastries and told you to pass the thank you along to your husband; who was well known here. Being the curator meant you were in charge of mostly everything, thus when your husband stopped by everyone was extra nice to him because he was the bosses husband.

“Oh wow. This must’ve cost a pretty penny.” You whispered eyes scanning over the assortment to pick your first treat.

The white card that was stuck into the red tulips stood out to you. So you reached for it to see what was written inside. In not the neatest handwriting is read ‘Yours Truly.’ It felt a bit romantic but it could be misconstrued.

“John’s so sweet. Think Johnny would ever do something like this for me?” Penny finally asked the question you knew was coming.

“Uhhhh I’m not sure. Soap’s kindaaa-“ You instantly felt caught out as you grabbed a pastry and took a bite. You were hoping that by eating you wouldn’t have to answer the question.

“Yeah, he hasn’t called me back.” Fiddling with the pastry in her hand she stared down with her lips pursed.

You felt incredibly awkward. This was exactly why you told Soap to stay away from Penny. She was easily attached and a hopeless romantic. When she told you Soap asked for her number when him and John stopped by here, you were skeptical. And now here you were being questioned by Penny.

This also wasn’t the first time Soap had done something like this. It was actually the fourth. He claimed you had ‘hot’ friends that you were hiding.

First it was Naomi a good friend from university, then Leena your best friend, Saoirse a mom at Lily’s daycare, and now Penny. Leena you understood, because she went after Soap when you had them over for drinks at the beginning of summer. Naomi you were pissed about because you specifically told Soap not to sleep with your friends and then Naomi called you up telling you Johnny was an asshole who didn’t call her back.

Saoirse kept you out of it, besides one chat at the shop when you had Lily with you. Although you hadn’t heard anything about it since, you were pretty sure they were still hooking up. Siobhan, Saoirse daughter did mention Soap from time to time to Lily and agreed how cool he was. Lily was growing jealous and would make passive aggressive comments that Soap should be spending time with her not Siobhan.

“I’m sorry Penny. I love the guy but I’m not sure how he is with relationships.” You lied with a smile. You didn’t have the heart to tell her he liked to sleep around and you thought he was striking up a relationship with someone else.

“Ugh! I’m so tired of meeting guys who only want to shag and then I never hear from them again.” She bit into her sweet angrily.

“I did not need to know you two slept together.” You laughed. It was obvious they had but you weren’t too keen talking about your employees sex life, even if you and Penny were friends outside of work.

“He’s good in bed, I’ll give him that. Charming, handsome, a little full on himself though.” Penny wasn’t stopping and the over sharing train had left the station.

“Ew I hate that I know that.” Your stomach turned hearing that about Soap. You liked the image of him in your head of the charming, golden retriever friend of your husband’s; not a man whore.

“Uh well I’ll be moving on then. No use in waisting my time on a military man.” Penny nudged you.

“Well, I’m going to call my military man and see how much money he blew doing this.” With a laugh you grabbed an extra pastry to take to your office.

On the walk you took a breath trying to figure out a way to sabotage any more of Soaps advances on your friends. Maybe you’d start a rumor that he played Screamo music while having sex or that he needed a photo of his ex in the room. Anything to keep him from sleeping with another one of your friends.

As you called John you wondered if he would have any ideas. He did know Soap better than you. Maybe he could talk some sense into him.

“Darling, how can I help you.” The raspy tone of your husband’s voice purred down the line.

He was being extra flirty to get on your good side, you knew that. But there wasn’t much he could say since you knew he was at the trampoline park with the kids.

“How much did all that cost?” You giggled at the flirtation.

“All what?” He asked. The sound of children screaming in delight in the background of the call.

“You sent a shit load of pastries to me to give to the staff. Did you not?” Sitting down in your chair you put the phone on speaker and started to go through the mountain of files on your desk.

“Uh, I want to say I did- but no.” John pulled the phone away and you could hear him telling Lily to toughen up or she would have to sit with him while her siblings had fun.

You laughed when you heard her say ‘Thank you! I hate this place.’ and then asked if she could have a sip of his drink. Lily continued to chat endlessly to John on the other end. She mentioned how it smelled gross, things were sticky, and how a little boy sneezed into his hands and then didn’t wash them.

“Hmm, my dad?” You asked taking a bite of your danish and grinning at Lily in the background. She was now asking for pretzels and whining that John told her she had to wait until he was off the phone.

“Your dad? Thats funny.” The joke wasn’t appreciated but you knew John was right. Your dad never tended to do stuff like that. Maybe the occasional flowers here or there but he was a quality time kind of guy.

“Well, whoever did, got it from my favorite bakery. So they clearly like me and know me enough to drop a ton of money. . . Signed it ‘Yours Truly” You laughed.

You had taken the little message with you for no other reason than you found it odd. Taking out the card you were now looking it over again. It was hand written and you thought it looked like male handwriting; but you could be wrong. It was probably a staff member at the bakery who wrote it.

“Bring some home.” John chuckled, not paying too much mind to who got it for you.

It was probably from the director since the museum had been doing so well this summer. There had been talks about you getting a raise since you were able to bring in so much more foot traffic from local schools and hosting events. That and the exhibits you were able to finesse.

“Will do. Love you.” John could hear the smile in your voice

“Love you too.” It was said with confidence which made your heart flutter.

“Mummy I love you! Tell mummy I love her too! Daddy- daddy tell mummy I lover her! Tell her-“

“Lily loves you too.” John chuckled.

“She loves me too right? Did mummy not hear you? Tell her again. Daddy, tell mummy again. Tell her-“

“Love you Lily!” Your voice carried far enough she heard you and you knew that by the way she giggled.

“Mummy’s the best.” Lily spoke in a day dream like state.

And it was that simple to you. It wasn’t John who sent the pasties and flowers, but it didn’t really matter to you who sent them. It was a gift to the staff in your name. It was probably the director or someone who had to do with the museum. You’d find out eventually so you weren’t going to worry about it now; not with this mountain of paper work.

——————

“Pastries again?” You walked into the kitchenette at work to see another spread of delicious goodies.

“Spoiling us Dr. Y/L/N.” Jamie smiled at you as he grabbed two sweets.

“Yeah, uh- you guys deserve it. And call me Indy, not a fan of the formality.” You said off handed as you grabbed a napkin to put your danish on.

You were looking over the spread that was not as nice as the last one since the pastries sat in the pretty boxes from the bakery. It was still the same amount of goodies, but there were your favorites this time. Whereas last time there were some good ones but the wrong flavors.

“Do I need to bring anything to the staff meeting?” He asked as he headed for the door.

“Your appetite, this is a lot of food.” There were still leftovers from two days ago so now you were wondering what was going on. You would have to send people home with some or they’d go to waste.

“Will do!” Jamie waved and left you alone in the break room.

You immediately pulled out your phone and headed to your office. Opening up your call log you saw John’s name as the only person you’d called the past few days. It was a reminder to reach out to your friends but you pushed that aside knowing you’d hear about Soap. So you gave John a call instead.

“Hey-“

“Darling, I’m in the middle of something. Can I call you back?” John sounded a bit rushed.

Slipping into your office you plopped down in your chair, confused at the addition to your desk. There were two flower vases on your desk. One was a standard looking bouquet of roses in a glass vase. While the other was at least two dozen red tulips in a large green vase with a pristine, white card attached. Pulling it from the stems you opened it to see a similarly eerie message in the same hand writing.

“Uh, got another delivery of pastries. Again, they came with flowers that say they’re from ‘Yours Truly’.” You ignored John being in a rush and shared this.

It wasn’t unsettling per se but you knew this wasn’t John. The roses could be him, or at least you hoped they were. You didn’t like tulips and you assumed your husband knew that. Roses were the flowers he strictly got you. What was making this start to feel unsettling was the fact tulips were sent with the last bunch of pastries on Monday. They were sitting on the side table next to the couch in your office, wilting away.

“Oh I sent the pastries, didn’t need someone showing me up. And the flowers were from me too.” You may not be able to see it but you could hear John’s cocky smirk.

No wonder there were your favorite pastries then. John knew that kind of stuff about you. It was sweet he noted your mention of not getting what you really wanted because whoever sent the gift didn’t know you that well.

“Trying to get lucky?” You flirted.

It was a sweet gesture, John didn’t have to do over the top things to get into your pants but you loved to pretend he did. It always made him chuckle and that sound was like a rush of endorphins with how giddy it made you.

“Pretty sure I can give you a look and you’ll be dragging me to bed.” There was that deep chuckle again. He was right you both knew it so instead of telling him that, you rolled into your next topic.

“Oh, there’s two bouquets. Ones-“

“Roses.” John finished.

“The others tulips though. I’m not really a fan of-“

“I did not send you tulips. You have never once bought or grown tulips. I wouldn’t waste my money on those.” John spoke so adamantly you wondered if at some point down the line you hammered into his head what flowers you liked and disliked.

“Yeah, that’s the one that had the note that said ‘Yours Truly’.” You sighed.

Your intuition was telling you something was wrong, but you couldn’t explain why. Being the person you were you didn’t want to worry John. You knew he had enough on his mind and nothing had truly happened. It was just anxiety creeping up, it had to be.

“Strange.” John hummed clearly occupied by some task he was doing.

You hummed as you inspected the flowers. They looked expensive, from some high end shop. The vase also seemed incredibly pricey and it made you wonder who had this kind of money. Talks of the neighbor had swirled around your house but this couldn’t be him. You assumed he didn’t make enough money to do this.

“Maybe you have an admirer. You did just hire a bunch of new staff.” John tried to calm you. Something like this could make you spiral and he was trying to get ahead of it.

“Fair. . . Still strange.” You said with a deep sigh.

“Look, I’ve got to go.” John tried to rush you off the phone.

“Love you.” It was said in a distracted sort of way, not with the normal amount of emotion you usually used.

“Love you two. Have fun with your mystery man. . . or woman.” John joked.

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you.” You volleyed back.

“Wouldn’t mind watching. Okay, gotta run.” John chuckled deeply and hung up before you could say another word.

“Cheeky.” You snickered to yourself.

——————

“You were sent more flowers?” John sounded muffled with his cigar in his mouth.

You and John were outside enjoying some fresh air. John was fiddling with the engine of his convertible while you were sat on the back of his truck. The truck was parked in front of the cherry red convertible leaving you and John close and able to chat freely.

Today John wore athletic shorts and a t-shirt from his run not too long ago. You were dress similarly since you joined him and let your two oldest’s hang around the house by themselves for a half hour.

“Yeah. It’s getting creepy now. Whoever it is really likes tulips.” You muttered not wanting John to worry about you.

It was hard to hide how unnerving this was getting. You had tried all avenues to figure out who was sending these gifts. No part of you wanted to involve John because you were scared he’d go nuclear out of a need to protect.

“You ask around?” Looking up from the engine John watched you bite your nails nervously, perched up on the tailgate of his truck.

“Asked at the staff meeting this morning. No one knew who it was. So either someone’s embarrassed or they’re coming from someone not at work.” You were becoming fidgety now.

John pulled off his gloves and tossed them on the engine. It was obvious to him this was really weighing on you. John was always protective of you especially when he sensed a threat. It hadn’t felt that way until today with you telling him this. John truly thought someone at work had a harmless crush on you. It was impossible to avoid and John had been trying to not get jealous this time around. Clearly that was a mistake because whoever this was, was taking it too far.

“Who else would send you stuff that’s not me or your father?” Stepping forward John lightly took your hand away from your mouth and guided it down to hold his.

John smoothed his other rough hand over the top of yours and stared into your eyes. It was a silent way of reassuring you. So you took a breath and decided you should be honest about how bothered this was making you.

“No clue. They’d have to know where I work. . . I’m getting scared, John. I have this feeling in my gut that this is bad. Like really really bad.” You confessed.

John nodded and breathed in deeply. He took a moment to respond, gathering his thoughts first. It was important that he didn’t leave you feeling more anxious but instead helped calm your nerves. He knew in this moment he wasn’t going to allow this to go any further.

“Get security to reject anymore gifts. Actually don’t worry about it. I’ll go in and speak to them while I look into it.” John change his mind mid sentence. He didn’t want you handling this in any capacity. It was his responsibility.

“They’re always there before me or anyone else shows up at work. Thank you, I don’t think I can do this on my own.” Not being able to bite your nails, you were lightly chewing on your lip. The nerves were really getting to you.

“You okay, darling?” John reached out and cupped your face in his free hand the other squeezing yours.

“Yeah. Kinda I guess. If just gives me the heebie-jeebies.” You tried to shrug it off but you were clearly shaken up.

“I’ll handle this. You don’t have to worry.” John spoke with certainty which had you taking a breath of relief.

“I love you.” You said as you hopped off John’s truck.

“Love you too. You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” Giving you a hug you melted into John’s chest. He gave you a kiss to your cheek and you nodded at him with a small smile.

“I’m going to get dinner started.” You were still unsettled but John liked your approach of trying to stick to your normal routine. It would hopefully help calm your nerves.

“Mummy!” Lily squealed happily and was slowly running up the driveway to greet you. Her hair was damp and her Star Wars t-shirt was on backwards.

“Did you get dressed all by yourself? How was swimming?” You asked with a kind smile. Squatting down she ran into your arms and hugged you tight.

“I did! I did! Swim was soooo much fun! Papa got in the pool with me after! Then he took me to get sweets at the shop!” Lily was bursting with energy, waving her sugary treats around.

“Hey dad, how was it?” You stood and asked while Lily went over to John for a hug.

“She did amazing. I gotta run though I’m late for a date.” Your dad waved from where he was standing halfway up the drive with his car still running.

“Look, someone gave me a flower for you.” With a giant smile Lily opened up her swim bag and pulled out a beat up tulip with a card tied to the stem.

Your eyes went wide in shock and you quickly looked to John. His eyebrows were knit together and he gave you a quick glance before taking Lily’s bag and searching through it quickly. Lily’s belonging hit the ground, her bathing suit plopping with a wet thud against the asphalt.

“Where’d you get that.” The dread immediately set in.

You tossed the tulip to the ground after taking the little white card off. Opening it you felt your stomach twist, like you might be sick.

‘Yours truly’

And then you noticed the picture of you. You were in your bra getting dressed for bed. The photo was taken through your upstairs window from some distance away. Eyes trained on yourself the photo was slid from your fingers. John was staring at you with gentleness and then smoothed his hand down your back.

“I’ll handle it.” He whispered.

John had dropped what he was doing and immediately flagged down your dad.

That picture was taken from the kids treehouse, there was no other way to snap a picture through your upstairs bedroom window. John would be investigating that later.

“At swim.” Lily looked up at you confused.

“Who gave that to you.” You didn’t mean to but you were forceful when you asked, the fear spilling out of you. Grabbing Lily’s shoulders and squatting down you asked her again, shaking her slightly off impulse.

Your breathing was heavier and it was clear how scared you were to your four year old. All you could think of was how this creep had approached your daughter in a place she should be safe. In a place as vulnerable as a children’s swim class. You could be sick if you weren’t so focused on getting answers.

“I don’t know.” Lily was shell shocked by how serious you had gotten all of a sudden.

You were never like this with her. You were her ‘silly mummy’ who loved to smile and play. You were only ever serious with Jj and Evelyn. Sometimes you were with her when you thought she might get hurt. So why now? Did she almost get hurt?

“Lily, who gave this to you?” You demanded. Picking up the red tulip off the ground you shook it in her face trying to get a response from her.

“Mummy!” Lily began to cry at your rougher than normal touch and angry tone.

Lily thought she was in trouble when she wasn’t. Aggression in any form freaked her out. She didn’t know why you were so upset but she didn’t like it and felt freaked out by it.

“Lily, I need you to tell me.” This only made Lily cry harder so you brought her close to your chest and hugged her.

Frantically looking around you looked to your dad and John who were approaching.

“I didn’t see anyone give her a tulip.” Your dad was by your side now with John.

“Lily.” John pulled Lily from your chest, picked her up, and sat her on the back of his truck so they were almost eye level. She was bawling at this point and sputtering about you being mad at her.

“Stop crying.” John yelled at her.

With wide eyes Lily’s tears dried up and she stared at John looking petrified to have just been yelled at. For once you didn’t mind John yelling at one of the kids. You needed to know who gave that to her. This was the closest you’d gotten to knowing who had been doing all of this and it came at the expense of your daughter’s safety.

“Who gave you that flower.” John demanded.

“Mummy friends.” Lily hiccuped. She looked at you and then back to John. She had a big frown on her face and she started to tug at her hair nervously.

“Was your mummy’s friend a girl or a boy?” John continued his line of questioning. He was forceful, practically barking at his youngest daughter.

“A boy.” She began to sniffle her breathing ragged from holding back her tears. You watched as she squeezed her knees together and became incredibly tense.

“Do I know this boy?” Again another forceful question.

“Daddy I don’t remember!” Lily was hiccuping and starting to hyperventilate. She turned and threw her hands out toward you to take her.

“Lily you have to try and remember. Has this friend come to the house?” Taking her face in his hands John tried to get her to look at him.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I have to go to the loo!” Lily was frantic now, her little fists bawled up and absolute terror etched across her face. She was wiggling where she sat, kicking her legs to get John away from her.

“Lily, did you see his face?” John ran his large hand over her head and smoothed down her damp hair to try and calm her down.

“No! I- I just saw the pretty flower and said thank you.” Lily yelled as she started to cough and gag from the held back tears and stress. You felt your chest ache and then immediately your stomach dropped seeing Lily wet herself from fear.

“Did he-“ before John could finish Lily threw up all over the front of him and began to cry hysterically.

“That’s enough, John.” You pushed your husband aside and grabbed Lily and hugged her tight as she began to have what you could only describe as a panic attack.

It didn’t matter you were now covered in fluids, you needed to comfort her. This had to be traumatizing and you would be forever guilty for that. For how you and John just handled this and that you couldn’t keep her safe enough that she wouldn’t be involved in the craziness of what you now considered stalking.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” You held Lily tight as she hyperventilated. John felt horrible he’d never seen Lily this upset before. Deep down he knew this was his fault and now understood what pushing Lily resulted in.

“Peanut I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” John was running his hand over Lily’s hair trying to calm her down.

Turning her head towards him, John thought Lily was going to tell him something. That she would want him to hold her like she did whenever she didn’t feel well. But Lily threw up all over him again.

“Jesus, it’s like she’s aiming for you.” Your dad mumbled, now rubbing Lily’s back as you cooed and swayed.

The unfortunate fact about your dad was he was well revered in having a child who would have inconsolable meltdowns. You had trouble regulating your emotions for a long time after losing your mom as a little girl. It trained your dad in how to help an emotionally fragile child and in turn he gave you many tips and tricks on how to help Lily.

“I didn’t see anyone. The only time Lily was out of my sight was when the instructor took her to the bathroom.” What your dad said made your blood run cold.

Had someone approached Lily in the bathroom?

“Must’ve been then.” John concluded.

You didn’t respond and took Lily inside with you. You sang to her and rubbed her back as she screamed into your chest crying.

“She’s had admirers before but not like what you just told me.” Your dad informed John.

John half listened, his phone already pressed to his ear as he called the swim class and shucked off his soiled shirt.

“Is Lily okay?” Evelyn was distraught as she watched you walk into the house with her little sister.

“Yes, uh- I’m going to give her a bath. Pick out a movie to watch together in my room?” You pulled yourself together so Evelyn couldn’t see the turmoil you were in.

So much had unraveled and you were having trouble keeping yourself in check. For the sake of your children you held on by a thread.

“Okay.” Evelyn was off and ran upstairs ahead of you.

It took some time to calm Lily down. Once you got her in the bath she seemed to catch her breath. Eventually she asked for you to put on music and if she could use a bath bomb. It felt like a weight was lifted off of you when she started acting like her normal self. After her bath Lily was asleep on your bed soon after and cuddling with Evelyn as a movie played.

“Is Lily okay?” Evelyn whispered.

“Someone gave Lily a tulip at swim today. I accidentally was too pushy asking who gave it to her and she thought she was in trouble. So if she mention anything about it would you let me know.” Placing a kiss to Evelyn’s head she seemed to immediately be on board.

“Of course mummy.” She smiled and you went downstairs to talk to John.

On your way down you stopped on the stairs and sat down. With your face in your palms you caught your breath and allowed yourself to cry for a minute and only a minute. You didn’t have time for a break down you had to take care of your family. Your feelings on the matter had to come last.

John was in clean clothes and just putting his shoes on to head out when you walked into the kitchen.

“Where are you going? We need to call-“

“Just got off the phone with her swim instructor.” Walking over John gave you a quick kiss and grabbed his keys.

“And?” You were clutching the collar of your shirt.

John could see you had been crying and as much as he wanted to comfort you he needed to ensure your and Lily’s safety first. He would make time tonight to talk to you and check in.

“She said Lily was with her the entire time. That she looked away for only a minute to ask another instructor something and when she looked back Lily had the flower.” Recounting the message John then slipped his jacket on.

He was incredibly calm which was helping you not freak out. It was clear to you he was going to handle this. Now you needed to trust that and handle everything at home.

“It can’t be a stranger John.” You told him fearfully.

Lily cried at any stranger trying to talk to her or even look at her. For her to take a flower from somebody they either had to be one of those performers at Disneyland dressed as Mickey Mouse, a swim instructor she’s had before, or someone you and John knew.

“No it can’t. She wouldn’t let a stranger talk to her without crying or hiding behind Ms. Stephanie.” John agreed.

“I’m going to go over now and get security to pull up what they can. Lock the doors please. Your dads staying until I get back, he’s in the garden with Jj.”

——————

After the incident with Lily lead to a dead end John had been hyper vigilant. He walked you to your car in the driveway every time you went out now and watched you leave before going back inside. The kids were no longer allowed to play outside without adult supervision. John closed the treehouse for the summer after finding food wrappers that weren’t from them.

John had been staying up and smoking endlessly on the patio in the darkness with his gun and then napping on the couch during the day. It was making his voice incredibly deep and he was much more irritable. You wondered if this was how he was during deployment. Even his eating habits had changed completely and he was living off coffee, protein, and whatever you made and ate it cold from the fridge. It was as if he stripped himself of the luxuries of home in order to keep himself on guard at all times.

John had sat the whole family down at the kitchen table and went over stranger danger like it was a briefing on base. You commended him for his thoroughness and he explained even friends of yours can be scary people. That if they ever felt like someone was even a tiny bit off to come tell you or him immediately. He wanted to know what adults were around when they went to friend’s houses or extracurriculars. Which wasn’t a real issue since you and John pulled your children out of everything and you took work off, not trusting anyone else with them at the moment.

Lily had come around but was holding a grudge towards John. When he would ask her to do things she would get overly defensive and ask if he was going to yell at her again. She had also started wetting the bed at night which left you and John feeling like awful parents.

This had John spoiling her to an extent you’d never seen before, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop. Lily clearly needed a lot of extra love after what happened and no longer being able to go to swim. Jj and Evelyn were complaining constantly about being stuck at home during the summer but when you explained things they begrudgingly said they understood. You and John were trying your best to appease them but they missed their friends and their freedom.

Today you and the children were home and you decided since they weren’t going to camp until this was all solved you’d make it a fun one. You had charmingly called it ‘Explosion Day!’ Where you were going to do a bunch of science experiments that resulted in things exploding.

Throughout the day you would be doing fireworks after your spiel on the periodic table and what elements resulted in which colors. You were hell bent they’d learn something by the end of the day. You would have them guess and then set it off but you didn’t want to terrorize your neighbors so you spread it out throughout the day. You even went as far as inviting the neighborhood kids over at the end of the day for a firework show. That way your children could have fun in a controlled environment.

To your surprise everyone with kids very happily agreed and it had turned into a neighborhood get together in your backyard. You were going to have to break the news to John at some point. He wasn’t going to be happy to have so many people over but he’d survive.

You had just sat your kids down after doing one firework and they were all beaming. They wanted more and were excited for the end of the day. It was a win in your book since the complaining about not going to camp ceased. So you served them sliced apples and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and chatted until your doorbell rang.

“Officer Parker.” You sighed heavily. You were standing in the doorway of your house and you couldn’t hide your disapproving look.

Your instinct was that someone complained about the fireworks and now you’d be accused of gun shots again. This guy was also a jerk who you had no intention of being cordial to.

“Hello Mrs. Price. Sorry to bother you.” This time he seemed a lot more polite. With a kind smile, almost as if he were happy to see you.

Odd. But hey, you’re a gorgeous gal maybe he was just happy to see pretty you. At least that’s what you told yourself so you could feel better. It was also what John would say every time this cop came by.

“Hm?” You hummed with a quirked eyebrow.

“First off, heard something going off when I pulled up. Fireworks?” He questioned

“Yup.” You said flatly.

“Kids must love that. Anyway, we’ve gotten some reports of a peeping Tom and wanted to check in.” Again, he was being overly nice. It was a surprise, you really thought he would be giving you trouble. Maybe it was because John wasn’t in sight. You stared blankly trying absorb what you were just told.

“I’m going door to door to take statements if anyone’s seen anything.” Waving his note pad as if saying hello he motioned for you to go ahead.

“Wait seriously.” Opening the front door fully he now had your full attention. With everything going on for you this peeping Tom could very possibly be who John was looking for.

“Yes, have you or any of your family seen anything?” With his pen ready to go Officer Parker looked up through his eyebrows at you.

“Uh, I’d have to ask. . .” You looked down the hall to where you kids where having their snack then back to the officer.

“Come in, the kids are having a snack. John’s not home but he would’ve said something.” Your former unpleasantness faded fast at the prospect of getting answers and help.

John had been adamant you weren’t to file a police report but that didn’t mean you could gather your own information from them. He really thought they’d be completely unhelpful in what was going on. That police would get in his way and John wouldn’t be able to enact the consequences he saw fit. That they might even protect whoever was doing this to you.

Officer Parker was surprised to be invited into your home. You didn’t seem like the type to do that but more of someone who would ask him to wait on the porch. Walking into your home he wasn’t sure if it surprised him of how neat it was. The only true mess were your kids things lying about which was mainly in your living room.

The home was bright with all the windows allowing constant steams of sunlight. It was the perfect house to try and peep through a window if Officer Parker was honest. The decor was nice, timeless pieces that left it feeling like a farmhouse or a cottage in ways. It was homy, comfy. A great place to raise children with the bright colors and lots of space to run around.

Once in the colorful kitchen Office Parker watched all your children turn to look at him. Not one of them seemed happy to see him. That was until Lily shyly waved.

“Why are you waving at him.” Jj pretty much snapped at his baby sister.

“What? We learned at school that police men are our friends. That if we are ever in trouble we go and find one. Just like we find a teacher at school.” Lily explained thoroughly.

“Dad said we’re not suppose to be nice to him.” Evelyn whispered thinking you couldn’t hear.

“I don’t like being mean. It’s really mean to be mean.” Lily pouted back.

“Good school.” Officer Parker nodded at you and you honestly agreed with the sentiment.

Although what you taught your kids was very different and John thought you were a genius for it. You had taught them that if they were ever lost or in need of help they should go ask a mom with kids. And if they didn’t see anyone who was a mom they needed to ask a lady.

“How are the chickens you three?” Stepping up to the kitchen table with his hands on his hips and a warm smile Officer Parker tried to win the kids over with kindness.

“Alive. No thanks to you.” Evelyn was instantly snarky. She had a judgmental look cast at the officer and for some reason slid her plate further away from him as if he’d take her food.

“Evie’s right. Our chickens would be dead if dad listened to your shitty idea.” Jj tacked on.

“Hey, manners.” You crossed your arms over your chest as you corrected them firmly.

You quietly apologized to the officer and then gave each of our children expecting looks. This was John’s doing you knew he had been in their ear and told them to give Officer Parker a hard time if they saw him. He probably even told Jj he could cuss because your son almost never swore in front of you.

“I have to ask you three something. Can I sit with you?” Motioning to their fathers chair the sharp looks he got had his hand shifting to your seat next to Evelyn instead.

Jj then slowly nodded his head seemingly skeptical about this. You could only roll your eyes. He was so much like John at times.

“Dad wouldn’t like that.” Jj said in a very touchy way.

Lily smiled at the officer now sitting across from her and pushed her plate towards him to take an apple slice. Sitting down at the table, the officer cleared his throat and began.

“Apparently there’s been someone in the neighborhood looking through windows. Do you know anything about that?” He spoke in a way that was to hopefully gain your kids trust. You were pretty positive that would never happen with John around.

“Why would we be looking in people’s windows?” Evelyn asked cleary offended, her immediate reaction defensiveness. Her response was a clear tell that she was accustom to getting into trouble. It made the officer chuckle before he continued.

“I don’t think any of you were looking through windows. You’re too smart for that-“ He paused and looked at Lily.

“And she’s too short.” He joked.

“Hey!” Lily whined not appreciating the jab.

The joke made Jj sputter into his milk and fight back laughter. Evelyn’s eyebrows raised and she bit her lip trying to contain herself at her sister getting teased.

“I wanted to know if you’ve seen anyone looking in your windows.” With a smile he hoped some humor may get honest answers.

“Oh, no, I haven’t.” Evelyn looked at Jj checking if he had. Jj shrugged back at her.

“Why would someone be looking in people’s windows?” Jj then looked at you for an answer instead of the officer. Taking a breath you decided it was better you answer truthfully.

“Sometimes it’s to check if people are home because they want to rob the place. Other times they’re trying to look at people for bad reasons.” You explained. Officer Parker was surprised at how straight forward you were.

“Bad reasons?” Lily asked, years welling in her eyes. Officer Parker quickly looked to you at the fact your youngest was about to cry all of a sudden. You put your hand up and waved it off to show it wasn’t anything for him to worry about.

“We will keep a look out thank you so much Officer Parker.” After a kind smile you kissed Lily’s head and he watched you whisper something to her that seemed to get her back in good spirits. You then waved at your kids silently telling them to do something.

“Thank you.” They said in unison. Lily was the only one who seemed happy to say it while Jj and Evelyn stared at each other, clearly only saying it so they didn’t get scolded.

Giving the kids a wave Officer Parker headed to the door and you walked him out. Stopping in the foyer you internally groaned thinking he was about to make a pass at you again.

“Here’s my personal number.” Grabbing a card from the pocket of his shirt he handed it over.

You stared at it for a second hoping he’d take it back but he only pushed his hand slightly forward for you to take it. So you did and it was obvious you didn’t want to. You were going to throw this out as soon as he was gone so John didn’t see it. Then he shifted back-and-forth on his feet, before quickly continuing.

“I want to apologize for my behavior, last I saw you. It was inappropriate and if you’d like a different officer working on this just say the word. My only intention is to make sure you and your neighbors are safe.” It seemed extremely earnest and you found it thoughtful to have Officer Parker apologize.

“Thank you I appreciate that. My husband was a bit crude so I’m sorry for that.” You decided starting over might be nice. If another officer showed up he could have no intention on truly helping whereas Officer Parker seemed truly invested.

“He was. I hope you have a good rest of your day. And please call if you need anything.” With a final smile Officer Parker opened your front door and stepped out on to the porch.

“Oh wait. Was there a description of the guy?” You blurted out before you even realized you had followed him out on to the porch.

“Mid 20’s black hair and everyone that’s seen him says he has unsettling eyes. If I’m honest it sounded like the man I caught going through your mail box.” He spoke matter of factly.

“Who’s seen him? Were they able to see if it was our neighbor?” You leaned forward and pointed in the general direction of where the guy lived. After all Officer Parker said he was going house to house.

“Unfortunately I can’t disclose that. Feel free to ask around. But between you and me, I spoke to that neighbor and he wasn’t the man I saw going through your mail box.” He seemed displeased by this information.

“Okay. You sure? I won’t be letting the kids play outside unsupervised then.” You could feel your anxiety rising at all the strange things happening.

“Not positive but I’m pretty sure.” He nodded and went to leave again.

“Wait- sorry. I know you have better things to do. But I, um, I- never mind.” You had grabbed him by the elbow so he couldn’t leave. The way he looked at you touching him made you realize quickly you shouldn’t grab a police officer so you laughed awkwardly and removed your hand.

“What?” Officer Parker looked at you concerned.

You couldn’t tell that your anxiety was visible on your face and your body language. To you, you thought you were masking it well.

“This is weird. I know it’s weird and probably nothing. But I’ve been getting gifts at work and no one knows who’s sending them to me.” You were hesitant as you spoke and that seemed to raise alarm bells for the officer. It was like he put together some pieces in his head.

“What kind of gifts?” Squaring his shoulder he now seemed very invested.

“Pastries for my staff. Shitty flowers.” It rolled right off your tongue.

“What makes the flowers shitty?” The description of the flowers was a surprise to him.

“They were tulips. I hate tulips.” You said offhandedly.

“Didn’t realize women could be so specific about what type of flowers.” Officer Parker tried to lighten the mood seeing how tense you had gotten.

“Yeah I’m more of a rose type person.” You paused, surprised with yourself for nervously babbling.

“I don’t know why I just told you that- anyway. There’s been pastries for my staff which had to be incredibly expensive. My daughter Lily was even given a flower at swim class with the same note that I’ve gotten for the work gifts.” You were rambling at this point. Spilling all this out felt so much better than having it bottled up.

“Where do you work?”

“I’m a museum curator at-“

“The one off Sheffield?” He asked seemingly surprised. You weren’t sure why, maybe he thought you were some dumb house wife or something.

“Yeah that’s the one.” You nodded

“May I ask what name you go by there?” Taking out his note pad you watched as he began quickly scribbling down details of what you had just told him.

“Indy, or my maiden last name. I got my doctorate before I was married.” Pointing to your degree hung up in the living. You weren’t sure why you felt the need to prove it.

“Oh. . .”

“What?” You breathed out feeling on edge.

“Do you want me to take a look into it?” He asked. It didn’t seem like he would take no for answer.

“Yeah. That would be great.” You nodded vigorously.

“When will your husband be home?” With his pen officer Parker pointed at the driveway.

“Soon. Why?” You asked feeling your blood pressure spike. Something was looming in the humid summer air and felt like it was about to come crashing down.

“Look, I don’t mean to alarm you. But this admirer of yours might not know where you live. But could know the general area. Hence why someone’s peeping in windows and rummaging through mailboxes. Fella might only know your maiden name so once the mailboxes were a bust he’s resorted to looking through peoples windows.” The officers words made your heart stop for a moment and then rapidly pick up pace as if you were running a marathon.

“That’s scary.” You whispered.

Breathing was starting to feel like a chore from how you had to manage it and not start hyperventilating. You placed your hand on your chest, true panic setting in. No part of you wanted to admit you were being stalked. You had been telling yourself John had this handled and you didn’t have to worry. But he didn’t because it was only getting worse. That picture of you in your bedroom only confirmed the peeping Tom had found you. It hit you all at once and the acceptance came in the form of terror.

You had to take a step back into the house and away from the conversation. Breath coming in ragged you rolled your shoulders back and tried to catch your breath. Your hands were shaking and you felt sick to your stomach. You weren’t sure why it took until now for it to sink in but it had.

This was real. This was happening to you.

You were being stalked.

“Ma’am are you okay?” Officer Parker stepped towards you, placing his hand on your shoulder gently.

“I’m sorry. I just-“ Cutting yourself off you rubbed a hand down your face and with the other pinched your thigh to try and help gather yourself.

“It’ll be alright.” There was a gentleness in the way he spoke that was helping somewhat.

But what you needed was John. You needed to break down in his capable arms. To cry your pretty eyes out and ask him to fix this. Because you knew he would. That you knew he’d been trying but you couldn’t wait any longer. He had to get it resolved today because living like this would end with you having a nervous breakdown.

“Would you like me to stay in my cruiser until your husband gets home?” Officer Parker’s hand slid from your shoulder to your upper back, his touch feather light and almost not there. It was a kind touch, one meant to ground you.

“Why don’t you just stay in the kitchen. John should be home any minute and I know he’ll want to talk to you.” Taking one last shaky breath you nodded at Parker to silently tell him you were okay.

“Of course.” There was a softness to him you didn’t think he would posses from the encounters you’d had.

It helped in this moment to know that police were aware, involved, and compassionate toward your situation. You’d heard so many cases of stalkers going ignored by the police. Or women being told they were imagining things or overreacting.

“I’ll make tea.” You smiled meekly and didn’t wait for a response.

You headed quickly toward the kitchen embarrassed that you cracked like that in front of someone you hardly knew. That kind of vulnerability was suppose to be reserved for John.

“I appreciate the hospitality.” With a kind smile Officer Parker followed you into the kitchen.

Just as you entered you saw John through the window behind the kitchen table that looked out on to your backyard. He was walking from his truck, across the patio to come inside through the back door. On the way John noticed this officer in his kitchen standing a little too close to you. He knew the man was somewhere here since his car was in the driveway.

“Why are you in my home?” John barked, one foot in the door.

“Tom’s peeing in people’s windows and he wanted to know if we saw him.” Lily informed her father and then stuck her plate out for him to finish her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Lily’s mistake helped your anxiety riddled heart. Eyes shifting from your four year old John hadn’t looked at you but had his blue eyes fixed on Parker.

“There’s a peeping Tom in your neighborhood.” Officer Parker informed your husband while giving Lily a strange look. To you it was obvious the man was not use to being around children and their shenanigans.

John stopped in his tracks hearing that. There was a pensive look that took over his face. It was no surprise to you John became quiet, he was being thoughtful now. Which was better than being rude like he wanted to be toward the officer.

“When you say peeping. Peeping on women?” John paused, his icy blues unfocusing for a second before he continued.

John knew you were being peeped on but he wasn’t willing to share that information with the police. Now John was wondering if other women in the neighborhood might also be experiencing what you had with the gifts and photos. But his mind wandered to something much more sinister and you wondered what it was that came to mind.

“Or children?” He asked now seemingly angry at his own question. John grunted after he spoke and continued taking off his boots.

“Not sure. I do have a theory.” Officer Parker looked to you to silently ask you if this was alright to share.

“Oh do you?” John said sarcastically but put a finger up for Parker to wait.

“Go play in the living room.” John ordered after taking the half eaten sandwich from Lily who had been quietly whispering ‘daddy come eat this’ the entire time.

“But-“

“Now.” John left no room for discussion.

Evelyn offered John her unfinished sandwich too while Jj’s plate was licked clean by Molly.

“Can we get milkshakes later?” In a hushed voice Lily asked John who shook his head yes. Lily left the room with a huge smile meanwhile Jj and Evelyn glared at the officer as they left.

“Who’s reported it?” John asked forcefully.

He was now at the kitchen island chewing his ‘dad snack’ as you liked to call it. Pointing to the kettle you caught his drift and started some tea.

“I can’t disclose that.” The officers statement had John rolling his eyes so hard his entire head went with the motion.

“That’s not fucking helpful. And this ‘theory’ of yours?” John and you were making intense eye contact. You were silently screaming at him to stop being rude and his eyes were saying a big fat ‘no.’

“Since someone was going through mailboxes I think the guy may only know your wife’s maiden name. Which is why he’s resorted to peeping in windows. I-“ John waved his hand cutting the office off.

“We both know who’s doing this. I’m not sure why we’re pretending we don’t.” With a pointed look John went and grabbed his favorite mug and treating the once tense situation nonchalant.

“I spoke to your neighbors nephew. He was not the man I saw at your mailbox.” Officer Parker spoke adamantly. It was clear he was getting agitated by your husband’s lack of respect.

“Bullshit. Like I trust you to positively identify someone? I doubt you’d be able to pick your own mother in a line up with how daft you are.” John had resorted to blatant insults now. Before the police officer could respond you cut in.

“You know I don’t think this is as productive as I thought it would be. Thanks for stopping by.” You motioned toward your front door for him to leave.

There was an anger pointed at John that you thought was justified. It looked like the officer wanted to ring his neck but was practicing self control. So he gave you a nod and left without a word. You watched from the end of the hallway and turned to John when the front door shut. The look on your face said it all.

“What the hell was that?” You weren’t sure if you were more shocked by John’s behavior or embarrassed.

“Don’t invite police in our home again.” John spoke evenly but you could sense he was about to blow a fuse.

“Why? he’s suppose to help.” You were immediately defensive because you knew John well enough that he was about to be rude.

“Because I said so.” John snapped.

“I can tell you one thing, and it’s that you’re not gonna treat me like that just because you disapprove.” It took a lot of patience to not snap back.

“Sorry. I-“ Running his hand through his hair he was clearly agitated.

“Look. You and I know who it is. Right? And someone needs to put an end to it.” John’s eyes bore into yours.

There was a deafening silence for a moment until the dryer began to thump quietly in the laundry room. John didn’t have to continue for you to understand what he was saying. Knowing him so well you knew when he was about to take matters into his own hands.

You weren’t sure if this was what would help the overwhelming anxiety. Having a conversation felt like a much better solution than whatever was on John’s mind. Telling him how scared you were and that you needed him. But he was skipping all of that and barreling toward a solution.

“I don’t. . . And you don’t. It’s just a hunch.” You spoke softly, trying to convince yourself.

Your chest was becoming tight and nerves lighting up. Taking a breath through your nose you let it out slowly through your mouth. A second later your fingers were at your mouth and you began to chew nervously on your fingernails.

“That creep can be exonerated by the police, the neighborhood, or god for all I fucking care. I’m not going to let that prick continue living in that house and not fear walking out his door to bother us again.” John was aggressively pointing in the general direction of the Patterson’s house.

Seeing the pain and fear etched into the face of the woman he loved most dearly had him stepping toward you. He took your face in his hands. John was gentle with you as if you were made of glass. It always amazed you that your loving, caring, protective husband could be a violent man. That these hands that had only ever held you gently and lovingly were capable of unspeakable things.

“I’m going to keep you safe. No matter what. Trust me.” Laying a feather light kiss to your lips John allowed you a moment to think.

And before you could speak John tried to convince you to let him do this. Because the last thing he wanted was for you to become scared of him so he needed your approval. He needed to do this, to give you back your peace of mind.

“I know you’re scared, darling. The whole point of all of this is to scare you. The prick gets off on it. . . Let me show him what it feels like and I promise he’ll never bother you again.” John spoke softly yet with such conviction you hadn’t realized you were nodding along half way through.

“Don’t hurt him.” You choked on your words.

This was an impossible situation to you. You needed John to step in and protect you. You needed him to keep your children safe. But with no proof besides finding the neighbors nephew creepy you couldn’t morally support whatever it was John decided he would do; but you also couldn’t stop him.

“I’ll just talk to him.” It was a lie and you knew it.

“John-“

“I’ll be back.” With a final kiss John put on his boots and walked out the back door not looking back. You watched from the window as he marched down your driveway to go confront your neighbor.

The walk didn’t take too long and John waved to a few neighbors who were outside with their children or mowing their lawn. A few stopped and gave him a wave back but found it odd how friendly he seemed today. Usually John gave a simple nod with barely a smile and went on his way, or ignored them completely.

John made it to the one story house with a neatly manicured lawn and well taken care of white picket fence. It was a slate blue home with a red front door. The windows had white trim and flower boxes. They spilled over with pretty ivy and tiny white and purple flowers. The freshly painted white picket fence had no gate so John was able to walk up the cobble stone walkway and jog up the three stairs of the front porch quickly. Once out of the sun and ducking under the shadow of the front porches roof John’s entire demeanor shifted. The once friendly attitude was swallowed by a fervent rage.

John knocked firmly. Then a second later banged on the door with so much force it shook the frame. His eyes had gone crazed and nostrils flared as he waited. The seconds ticked by until John watched the red front door begin to open to reveal the face of Paterson’s nephew, Freddie.

His black mop of curls were damp from what was assumed to be from a shower. Those light grey blue eyes were wide like they always were and stayed unblinking and unsettling. He looked upset, a dusting of stubble distracting from his thin lips fixed in a frown from having someone bang on his door so violently.

“What’s your problem?” The young nephew opened the front door and before he knew it there was the sound of skin slapping skin and he had a hand around his neck.

John walked forward with purpose, this man’s neck firmly in his grasp and then slammed him up against the wall of the foyer. Along the way John kicked the door shut behind him so no one walking by could see. It took all his restrain to not immediately snap this man’s neck.

The man’s eyes were somehow wider than normal with fear and he was shaking so bad it could almost be mistaken for convulsions. Freddie had no idea what was going on and he couldn’t find the words that were trapped in his throat and beneath the hand growing tighter around his neck.

John brought his face so close the man could feel John’s hot breath. To Freddie, John looked like a bear taken shape into man. With claws sinking into his neck and eyes fixed on his next meal, his prey. Freddie was staring death in the eyes, and in the darkness of John’s icy blues staring into his soul Freddie began to make peace with his life.

“Come near my house, my wife, or my children again and I’ll gut you like the pig you are.” John spoke with venom.

There was murderous intent with sick and twisted rage as the driving force. There was an unspoken understanding that Freddie would be lucky to keep his life by the time his front door opened again.

“I- don’t know what y- AH~” Snot and drool dribbled down Freddie’s nose and mouth as he saw a silver glint and then felt the cool metal of a blade pressed firmly to his neck.

“Do I make myself clear?” John asked, a new found calmness taking over.

“I’ll never look their way again.” Freddie sputtered out and began to lightly sob as the knife was pressed firmly against his jugular.

John could see this had worked from the panic and fear in the man’s eyes. There would be no more convincing. John had achieved the outcome he desired and that was for this man to fear for his life.

A trickling sound joined the ragged breathing. Glancing down John saw a wet spot forming in the man’s jeans and then darkly chuckled.

“Disgusting.” With a final violent shove, John returned his knife to his back pocket and turned to leave.

Being the man of conviction he was and how he thrived under pressure and conflict John was leaving this house feeling much lighter. On his way out he noticed a horseshoe sitting atop the front door frame. Grabbing it he turned to see the man now sitting in a puddle on the floor. Those wide unblinking eyes were fixed in terror instead of that unsettling glare John was accustom to seeing.

“Thanks for the gift.” John lightly flicked his wrist with the horseshoe in it, smiled politely as if he were at the shop, then left.

John left the front door open so the man could hear his jovial whistle to the tune of ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’ and watch John pull out a cigar. After lighting it he took a nice long drag at the end of the houses walkway. Turning back around Freddie hadn’t moved and John waved and gave him his typical neighborly smile.

“Cheers!” John called with an unsuspecting laugh and went on his way, whistling and smoking.

——————

“So, it’s been a week. Haven’t gotten anymore pictures, flowers, or random gifts.” Your voice came from the bedroom as John finished brushing his teeth.

“Hm, have you?” John called back sounding uninterested but you knew better.

Deep down you knew he was happy to hear that but wouldn’t let on. When John had gotten home from his ‘talk’ he was in high spirits. You were confused but let it go when he took your family out for dinner, ice cream, and then piled on the couch to watch a movie together. The stress seemed to have left his body and was replaced by content pleasure. Which to you meant this was over, that you could rest easy from now on. John didn’t go out to sit on the patio that night but joined you in bed.

John even somehow romanced you out of your former anxieties and made love to you in a way that felt primal and all consuming that night. If you were honest the memory of how passionate he was had continuously popped in your head and helped distract from anything untoward.

“What’d you say to him?” Your voice was a lot closer now.

Looking up into the mirror above his designated sink John saw you, his beautiful wife. You had your head cocked to the side with a shy smile dusting your pretty lips. He loved how you looked with your hair braided for sleep and in nothing but his black t-shirt and little grey cotton sleep shorts. Your skin was smooth and glowing from your nightly routine and you had those gold patches under your eyes. Those always made John laugh, the memory of you holding him down on your bed and practically attacking him until he relented and let you put them on him.

“Nothing really.” With a shrug John tried to move past you but you stepped in the way.

“That’s a lie.” You placed your hand in the center of John’s firm chest and drummed your fingers. With a small smirk he kissed your cheek, grabbed your hips, and moved out of his way with ease.

“And?” John teased, leaving you with a playful pinch to the bum.

You watched as he peeled off his white t-shirt and tossed it on to the floor by his nightstand. Next came his plaid pajama bottoms, leaving John in his black boxer briefs. Looking over his shoulder he caught you admiring him and nodded toward the bed.

“Why won’t you tell me?” You sounded all sweet and John knew you were going to try and get the truth out of him one way or another.

There was no effort in batting you away. John pulled back the covers and patted the bed for you to crawl in beside him. So you did. The pair of you turned off your lamps and laid together like you did most nights. You had your head on John’s hairy chest and his rough hand was caressing your back while you cuddled close.

“Tell me?” You whispered into the darkness.

“No.” With a kiss to the crown of your head John settled into bed and allowed his head to lull to the side so sleep could take over.

“I love you, darling. And I’ll always keep you safe.” John spoke against the hair atop your head and held you close so you could drift off to sleep together. Laying in silence you both listened to the crickets chirp from your open window. The two of you too consumed with each other to notice the light shutter of a camera in the distance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter - Stranger

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

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[lullxby]

THEODORE NOTT LISTENING TO RAVENCLAW READER WARM UP TO HIM AND LETTING HER RANT ABOUT HER BOOK TO HIM PLEASE IM BEGGING🙏🙏

—🏍️ (if thats taken? idk lmao)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ WHIPPED (t.n.)

summary : in which a boy is willing to do anything to convince a smart girl to go out with him.

w.c. : .8k

a/n : i loved writing this request and no 🏍️ isnt taken!! enjoy! 🤍

should i do a part 2 of the actual date??

wattpad : poeticmystery

warning(s) : none!

| harry potter masterlist | navigation |

theodore nott couldn’t deny how ultimately whipped he was for you. he was in love with everything about you. the way you’d ramble about your books, the certain face you’d make to him after you see somebody doing something less than smart.

he even respected how log. it had taken for you to let him in. he had quite a reputation with women, and he knew it’d make it more difficult to convince you to be in a real relationship with him.

so, he waited. he was patient, he was kind, and he defended you.

he seemed like the perfect guy on paper, but whenever you got close to letting him in, letting him finally take you out, you’d hear another story about a girl he hooked up with then left right after.

the thought disgusted you, and you didn’t want to just turn out to be another one of those girls with a horror story of hoe you were treated by the slytherin boy. you were smarter than that.

that was another thing he liked about you. how smart you were. he loved how you could explain extensive theories and spells to him in a simple enough way to make it easy to understand. it was like a breath of fresh air.

lately, he had been in an even better mood, something his friends even noticed about him. you were starting to finally let him in. you were letting him walk you to class, letting him take you to his favorite hidden spots in the castle.

most importantly, though, you were starting to talk to him. not just some insignificant conversation about homework, or the weather. real conversations.

you were telling him about books you liked, about something funny one of your friends had told you. you were rambling on and on to him, and he loved hearing it.

he loved seeing the way your eyes lit up when you were speaking about someone you were close with, or a new book.

the expression he held when you rambled to him like this could only be explained as pure love. he had waited months to even get you to open up to him, and it was finally happening.

he always made sure you knew he was listening, whether that was by asking you questions as you went, keeping his eyes trained on you, or even buying you the second book in a series you had mentioned liking.

even despite the way you’d protest your rants, saying you didn’t want to annoy him, or something of the sort, he loved hearing tour voice. he’d listen to anything if it was coming from you.

he noticed everything about you.

none of his friends, or even himself, could think off another time where he was this head over heels for someone. it was like his former self went out the window as soon as you walked in. he couldn’t even imagine himself with a girl that wasn’t you, and he didn’t want to anyways.

you were all he need- all he wanted.

“theodore, are these flowers from you?” you called out when he stepped into your dorm.

you gestured to a beautiful array of red lillies, the scent they put off filling the room with a pleasant, light aroma.

“yeah. saw ‘em and thought of you,” he admitted casually, as though he hadn’t specifically looked for flowers of that kind, knowing you paid attention to the meanings of flowers and whatnot.

aside from that, he just thought they were pretty. naturally, you had popped into his mind.

you flashed him a genuine smile, a sight that looked straight out of his dreams.

“thank you,” you grinned, the sentiment behind the flowers being one of the sweetest things you could think of.

“finally gonna let me take you out?” he asked, a small smirk on his face.

despite his confident demeanor, he was one step away from straight up begging. he had waited months, all he wanted was for you to say yes.

you thought over it. you had heard girls in the hallway talking about how he hadn’t given them the time of day recently… and he had been so sweet lately. he had been trying repeatedly, not being deterred at all by your rejections. plus, what was the harm in just one date? one date didn’t mean anything was set in stone.

it was just… one date.

“yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, noticing the way his smirk turned into a large grin.

he felt like a child with how smiley he got around you, especially now that you had given him a chance to take you on a real date.

theodore nott taglist: lmk if you’d like to be added!

dividers made by h-aewo!

[my-castles-crumbling]

useful - @rosekillermicrofic - slightly suggestive - word count: 224

“This is ridiculous,” Regulus grumbled as he shuffled through Slughorn’s old storeroom, tripping over a box. “It’s a hazard. We could get seriously injured.”

“As if anyone cares,” Barty chuckled. “Plus, isn’t that kind of the point? We’re cleaning it out for Detention so it isn’t such a mess?”

Regulus just rolled his eyes. 

“Why does he even have half this stuff?” Evan asked, moving stacks of plates, a tire, and a rolled-up carpet out of his way before giving up and starting to Vanish things. 

“Because he’s a hoarder and we’re only enabling his problem,” Regulus mumbled.

But when Regulus pointed his wand to a long coil of sturdy-looking rope, Barty quickly yelled, “Wait!”

Pausing, Regulus eyes his friend. “What?” he asked, impatient to get the work over and done with.

“That…could be useful…” Evan said with a shrug, shrinking the rope and putting it in his pocket.

For a moment, Regulus looked back and forth between his two friends, picturing the vast array of scenarios they would need that rope for. He truly couldn’t decide if he wanted to know if the rope was meant to be used on someone else or for something less-violent and more…private. After a few long seconds, he shrugged. “I’m not going to ask,” he murmured.

Barty clapped him on the back. “Smart move, mate,” he grinned.

[3cremepie3]

Airhead part 2

Leona x female reader 18+ smut

Sypnopsis - You really need your grades up and this time you ask the lazy genius Leona to help you.

Warnings - degradation, words like sl3t and whore, spit, hair pulling, orgasm denial

A/n - I forgot about this serious 🌚. I’m so sorry I pledge to finish it. Read part 1 here

“I know you were smart enough to get that fancy internship. Come on wake up.” You stood in front of Leona’s foot of the bed. It was huge a Californian king all for him but still he was sprawled in a corner napping.

He just groaned as you called out to him. It took you a lot to sneak to his quarters many of the beast-men on their tails when they saw you. You made an array of lies to get to his room, like you were hired to clean up his room or do his laundry.

But your efforts seemed to be worth nothing as Leona barely moved. “Well I’m not leaving until you help me. I’ll stay in this spot all day," you insisted! You planted yourself on your butt next to his bed. He snored away not caring about your intrusion.

You were getting sleepy yourself since you stayed up all night sewing a mini dress for yourself. You were wearing it now playing with the lace ruffles as Leona’s tail that was swaying softly hit your face. You grabbed it out of curiosity and watched as he stirred in his sleep a little bit.

It was then when you got a devious idea. One he would surely slap you for. You grabbed his tail again but this time you yanked it roughly. Leona roared as his tail slapped in the face. He woke up his body still groggy from sleep.

“What the fuck do you want?” You know what I want it's for you to help me study,” you said. “So, you came to my room dressed in this slutty outfit and poked a sleeping lion to study,” he asked.

“This outfit isn't slutty I made it myself it’s just a bit revealing,” you argue. “Yeah right I bet you can’t bend down without me seeing your panties,” he challenges. You knew what you were doing when you attempted to touch your toes. You even did a little shake as your dress lifted off your ass.

He could see your pussy print through your plain hipsters which made him lick your lips. You got back up slowly letting the effect take place. “Hmm maybe you are right,” you admitted. “It’s a bit shorter than expected,” you said. “It’s still not covering your ass.” Leona said pulling down the fabric as always, he overestimated his strength and the whole top of your dress came down to compensate for your short bottoms.

You scoffed your chest being revealed to Leona he gasped before smirking. “Dumbass!” You squealed covering your boobs with your hands. “Haha sorry,” he laughed. You blushed as he fell back onto his bed.

“God you’re so ditsy Y/n. Did you even pass the second grade,” he asked. “You literally stayed back last year I don’t want to hear anything,” you seethed. “Baby girl that was by choice I don’t want to go back home.”

“Especially when there’s plenty of fine shits like you around.” He grabbed your wrist pulling you beside him. “Looking at those pretty tits just got me hard. How about I give you all the textbooks answers and we have a little fun,” he proposed.

You shook your head instantly. “That sounds like a great deal to me baby,” you giggled. You hopped into bed with him. Your dress was soon lifted over your head leaving you in nothing but your panties and bra. "Come on put on a little show for me," he insisted.

You turned around and arched up slowly pulling your panties down your soft things. Leona groaned seeing your slit and ass on full display. His rough hands kneaded your ass like dough. You twerked back into his hold. "That right my dirty girl work for those answers." He slapped your ass and watched it giggle.

You crawled slowly to him swinging your ass in either direction as you held your arch. You stopped right in-between his legs. Your hands traced up your sides then to your back unclasping your bra. He licked his lips seeing how the fell once they dropped. You giggled as his hands met your waist.

"Wanna use your tits lay back," he directed. You lay back on his many pillows sinking down into his mattress. He knelt either legs near your head. He pulled down the boxers he was previously sleeping in and revealed his cock. It was a bit like the other beast-men you had delt with only this time much bigger.

He pulled out some oil from his nightstand and spilled it all over your tits and torso. You moaned as the liquid was massaged all over you. You were so shiny you could be mistaken as reflective. His hands gripped your slippery mounds bringing them to engulf is cock in their natural warmness.

You felt like a hot pack as he used you. Your hands stayed at his side as he moved your body. "Every inch of your body must be fuckable because damn this feels good," he grunted. You just watched him silently as his head rolled backwards.

"Way better than a fucking fleshlight." He pinched your nipples sending waves down to your pussy. And even though you hated Leona and were just using him you couldn't help but admit he was incredibly sexy. The way his brows creased as he thrusted upwards had you humping on nothing.

Your hands couldn't help but find themselves in your heat. You felt his precum drip over your nipple as he rubbed his tip over it. You eyed the knot at the bottom of his dick and wished it was in you. You could smell the musky smell of his dick the further up he moved.

You couldn't resist your spit dribbling down on his tip. Once you saw how that made his ears twitch you bent your head down and let your tongue drag across it. He was getting double the stimulation now. "You're such a damn whore," he bit his lips trying to hold back.

He gripped your scalp harshly making your scalp tingle as your lips were invaded with his dick. He released inside a bit before pulling out and spilling out all over your oiled up tits. He pulled his briefs back up and crawled back into his original corner.

"You're not gonna make me cum," you ask appalled. "I got sleepy just be glad I'm giving you the answers." You rolled your eyes at his pettiness "Fine then where are the answers even at?" Check my schoolbag."

You went in his satchel to reveal only one of the textbooks you needed. "Leona I need four of these books you only have one." Well ill guess you'll have to beg me for answers another time," he smirked. "You're such an ass," you scoffed. "Not my fault your such an airhead he chuckled.

[comicaurora]

I think some folks forget that, yes, Falst is a very physical character and a Ferin, but he's also *shown that he's incredibly intelligent.* He'd learned enough about magical theory, without being able to cast magic at all, that he came up with a flawed-but-intriguing plan to change his nature using a Life lacrima. He's like those guys from third world countries who build water pumps or working solar power arrays out of trash.

One of my favorite things about writing Falst's dynamic with the party is that he and Erin are unequivocally the team Smart Guys, and Erin 100% knows it and acts accordingly. Falst wants to use his books, Erin has zero objections. Falst points out flaws in Erin's plan, Erin explains his reasoning without dismissing his concerns. Falst guides Alinua and Tess through evading Shrike's hunters. Erin puts together that Dainix's recent magical healing means Falst must've spellcarved a lacrima on the fly.

And it goes the other way too. Erin proposes a risky plan, Falst is the only person on the team who goes along with it without voicing his reservations. Falst doesn't question Erin's Plan A, he just makes his own Plan B.

Falst thinks of himself as a blunt instrument and all of his cunning plans as just common sense and doing whatever it takes to survive, but Erin keeps careful track of his teammates' strengths, and he treats Falst as his academic peer for a reason.

[owololcat]

Slugcat Dashboard Simulator!!!

💥 scavslayingchieftain

what in void’s name are these fucking thingies? /pos

⦻ vultureculture-deactivated119023

those are yeeks! They're normally native to outer expanse, though you may occasionally find a few in farm arrays if you're lucky! :3

💥 scavslayingchieftain

I love em gimme like 20

🍯 gourmdan-ramscug

I just saw a pup get carried into the treetops by a squidcada. Their mom was able to grab em before they could get hurt but now I'm wondering how many squidcadas it’d take to lift me…

🍯 gourmdan-ramscug

clerik dem

🎭 long-live-4pe

I think catboy pebbles would kill a wildscug.

🐁 the-johndoe

Wildscug from Outer Expanse here, can confirm. I only got one second to process the glory of an iterator in a catboy costume before I got my brain nuked and woke up back in The Wall.

🎭 long-live-4pe

… Not what I meant, but this is most certainly funnier than what I intended.

👁️ ripples-and-reflections

heyyyy sorryyyy your mate went down to the void sea and became an echo. yeahhhh he’s stuck between life and death with no escape to either. his attachment to his worldly desires was just too strong, sorryyy.

🌀 ur-getting-eepy

OE scugs, today is the day we finally decide...

🍯 gourmdan-ramscug

This is actually a fun way to gauge the colony's opinions on my antics. I’ll be keeping tabs on this! Thanks, Hypnotist!

🌀 ur-getting-eepy

OH HI DAD

🐟 moons-secret-lovechild

I just found 2 dead noodleflies with their needles shanked into each other. Can any nature-smart scugs explain why they do this?

🌼 fren2all

actually it's just a simple territorial dispute, which are always battles to the death in noodleflies. but what's really interesting is that if there's a winner left alive, they'll actually adopt the baby noots of the loser!

🐟 moons-secret-lovechild

Huh. Talk about a custody battle, am I right?

💥 scavslayingchieftain

my iterator just gave me a pearlreader and a cluster of pearls with a graphic novel series called “Spinning Top’s Folly” on them and WHERE THE FUCK HAS THIS BEEN ALL MY LIFE???

🪡 slash-srs

A new face to share brainrot with is always a welcome sight.~

💥 scavslayingchieftain

oomf, you don't get it.

i used to be a wildscug.

this is my first taste of iterator entertainment.

i can never go back.

🪡 slash-srs

OH SHIT, THAT IS A BIG DEAL. Anyways, your iterator picked a great first series for a creature who's unfamiliar with the benefactors and their history! If you're interested in fanfiction, I recommend trying to get your paws on some of the “Eternity Confluence” pearls by The Werelizard! Its this really silly canon divergence fic where Howlite Skies follows Spinning Top when they run away from the creche, resulting in extra shenanigans and a happier ending for both.

🦎 da-littlest-lizor

imma lizardcat, actually, but ty for the shoutout! I had a lot of fun expanding upon the sibling dynamic they had in the early chapters :}

🪡 slash-srs

H-HELLO?????

🐁 the-johndoe

I stole an egg with plans to eat it the following cycle but oops looks like I'm a dad now. forgive the shitty quality but meet batnip bread everyscug

🌼 fren2all

Pretty fucked up lookin slugpup

🐁 the-johndoe

monk ur supposed to be the nice one, don’t insult ur niece! >:T

🐁 the-johndoe

#so this is the fabled found family

@gourmdan-ramscug MOOOM HYPNOTIST AND MONK ARE BEING FUNNIER THAN ME ON MY OWN POSTS AGAAAAIN!

🌼 fren2all

Fuck kinda dad runs to the grandparent to solve his problems? lol

🐁 the-johndoe

I will suplex you into a patch of protorot grrr

🎭 long-live-4pe

Guess who finally got their title? The Gentleman, at your service.~

🦎 da-littlest-lizor

holup i thought u were a messenger how tf u get a title?

🎭 long-live-4pe:

I actually reside in a colony atop Four Painted Easels. I am a messenger by employment rather than by purpose!

As for how I earned a title in the first place, the scavengers took a pearl that was of great importance to 4PE, so I swiped it back from right under their snouts. Apparently I greatly resembled a gentleman thief from some old novels from the benefactor era.

🦎 da-littlest-lizor:

oh those scavs are gonna send they best elites after u lmao. i can def see how a colony would see you in that way tho, congrats! u earned it!

[thewulf]

Through the Years || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - Aaron Hotchner x reader, It will be like 2 moments in different years... like the first time little Jack is comfortable enough around reader to call her mom... and the other one teen Jack not taking her grounding while Aaron is away and screamimg at her something like "You are not my mom"... Read Rest Here

A/N: This was tough to write. But overall very sweet. We love a good teenage melton.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader, Jack Hotchner x Stepmom Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

TW: Yelling, intentional hurt, Jack being mean lol

Year Six: Jack’s Question

The gentle hum of the air conditioner filled the cozy living room as you and Jack sat together on the couch, surrounded by an array of colorful crafting supplies scattered across the coffee table. Glue sticks, markers, and construction paper formed a creative mess as the two of you worked on a project together, a rare moment of tranquility in the chaotic life of an FBI agent's family.

As you guided Jack through the steps of creating a handmade card for his grandmother's birthday, you couldn't help but notice the way he looked up at you with a mixture of admiration and affection. His small hands moved with determination, mirroring your own movements as you carefully cut out paper hearts and glued them onto the card letting him guide how he wanted the card to turn out.

"Y/N?" Jack's voice broke through the soft hum of conversation, tentative and uncertain. He shifted back and forth on the couch letting whatever was on his mind eat away at him for the time being.

As Jack's voice broke through the soft hum of the television on, you turned your attention back to him. He looked so nervous that you could only put the supplies down and focus solely on him. "Yeah, Jack?" you replied, your voice soft and encouraging.

Jack shifted nervously beside you, his brow furrowing as he wrestled with his words. You could see the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the weight of his question heavy on his young shoulders.

"Can I... can I call you Mom?" His voice was barely above a whisper, filled with hesitation and longing.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, your heart soaring with joy and disbelief. It was a moment you had dreamed of, hoped for, but never dared to expect. Not so soon anyway. You and Aaron had been seeing each other for just over a year. And yet, here it was, unfolding before you in the most unexpected of moments.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you gazed at Jack, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion welling up inside you. You wanted to gather him into your arms, to hold him close and never let him go, to shower him with all the love and affection he deserved. But you also knew that this moment was about him, about his courage in voicing his feelings, his desire to forge a deeper connection with you. And so, you swallowed past the lump in your throat, your smile widening with genuine warmth and love.

"Of course, you can, sweetheart," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "I would be honored."

As the words left your lips, a weight seemed to lift from Jack's shoulders, his face breaking into a radiant smile that mirrored your own. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of your crafting adventure, you felt a profound connection form between you, one that transcended blood ties and was forged by love and mutual respect.

Jack let out a sigh of relief, his smile widening as he leaned into your embrace. "Good, Daddy said I could," he explained, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and validation.

Your heart swelled with warmth at his words, grateful for Aaron's support and understanding. It meant the world to you that he had encouraged Jack to express his feelings, to embrace the bond that had grown between you. "Your daddy is a smart man," you replied, your voice tinged with affection as you ruffled Jack's hair affectionately. "And he's right. You can call me mom whenever you want. You can also call me Y/N. Whatever you want kiddo."

Jack beamed up at you, his eyes sparkling with happiness as he settled back into his seat, a sense of contentment settling over him like a comforting blanket. In that moment, it felt as though the world had shifted, the connection between you and Jack deepening with each passing second. And as you returned to your crafting project, your hearts overflowing with love and gratitude, you knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.

Year Fifteen: Teenage Turmoil

The soft glow of the lamp illuminated Aaron Hotchner's cluttered desk as he typed away on his laptop, the faint clicking of keys the only sound in the otherwise quiet house. It was Friday night, the end of a long week, but for Aaron, the work was far from over. His eyes flickered to the clock, noting the late hour. Jack should have been home by now, safely tucked into bed. Anxiety gnawed at him as he tried Jack's number once more, only to be met with the unwelcome sound of voicemail. He would give it until 12:30 then he was going to be calling Penelope to locate his young son. He didn’t want to be overbearing but he couldn’t help it. Not with what he’s seen, what he’s had to deal with.

In the living room, you paced back and forth, your heart pounding with worry. Each passing minute felt like an eternity. With every unanswered call, your concern grew tenfold. The clock on the wall mocked you, its hands moving relentlessly towards midnight. You too knew how dangerous it was out there. But you couldn’t lock the kid in. He’d resent the both of you for the rest of his days if you did that.

Finally, the creak of the front door announced Jack's return. Relief flooded through you, quickly replaced by a surge of frustration as you caught sight of his nonchalant expression. "Jack, do you have any idea what time it is?" you exclaimed, unable to keep the edge from your voice.

Jack's eyes flickered to you, irritation flashing in their depths before he masked it with a careless shrug. "Relax, I lost track of time," he retorted, tossing his jacket aside without any regard for how stressed both you and his father were.

Your temper flared. "You were supposed to be home over an hour ago! Do you have any idea how worried we were?" As Aaron remained in his office, you and Jack were left to confront each other alone, the tension between you palpable.

He shrugged again before attempting to make a break for his room.

"Jack, please," you implored, your voice trembling with concern. "We need to talk about what happened tonight. It's not just about breaking curfew; it's about communication and respect."

Jack's eyes narrowed, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. "I don't need a lecture, Y/N. I'm not a kid anymore."

Your heart sank at his dismissive tone, but you refused to back down. "I know you're growing up, but that doesn't mean you can disregard the rules we've set. They're there for a reason, Jack. We worry about you when you're out late, especially when we can't reach you."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You worry too much. I can take care of myself."

Your frustration bubbled to the surface. Your voice tinged with emotion. "It's not just about taking care of yourself, Jack. There are awful people out there and…”

Jack's demeanor shifted, his expression hardening with defiance. "You're not my mom, Y/N. You don't get to tell me what to do."

His words cut deep, a pang of hurt flashing across your features. "I know I'm not your biological mother, but I love you like you're my own," you admitted, your voice wavering with emotion certainly not expecting the conversation to take such a turn so quickly.

Jack's jaw clenched, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "Yeah, right. You're just trying to control me like everyone else. Well, news flash, it's not gonna work."

Your heart shattered at his harsh words, the weight of his rejection crushing you. "I'm not trying to control you, Jack. I just want what's best for you," you pleaded, tears welling in your eyes despite your best efforts to push them away.

But Jack's frustration boiled over, his voice rising with each word. "Stop pretending like you know what's best for me! You're not my freaking mom! You can't tell me what to do!"

As Jack's explosive words hung in the air, a heavy silence descended upon the room, filling the space with tension and uncertainty. Your heart felt as though it had been squeezed tight in your chest, the sting of Jack's rejection still raw.

A gasp came from your mouth as you tried to form any sort of coherent sentence. "Oh, I'm... I..." you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. But your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and you found yourself at a loss.

Jack's eyes widened, a flicker of realization crossing his features as he took in the impact of his own words. For a moment, he seemed unsure, caught between his anger and the weight of what he had just said. And then, as if sensing the weight of the moment, Aaron appeared in the doorway. His expression a mix of concern and disappointment. His presence seemed to ground the room, his steady gaze sweeping over you and Jack.

"What's going on here?" Aaron's voice was calm but firm, his eyes never leaving yours. He saw the watery tears that threatened to spill over at any second. He heard the tail end of the conversation and knew exactly why you were so devastated. You saw Jack as your own child and for him to say something so deeply hurtful left you reeling.

You struggled to compose yourself, the turmoil of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "Jack... he... I don’t… I need to go," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, you turned and fled towards the kitchen, unable to even look at your stepson or Aaron in that moment. You felt utterly embarrassed. Like you hadn’t been loving that child for the last ten years of his life. Did he really feel like that or was he just lashing out?

In the living room, Aaron's expression darkened, his jaw clenched with restrained anger as he watched you leave. The weight of Jack's hurtful words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over their father-son relationship.

Jack shifted uncomfortably; his eyes fixed on the ground as guilt gnawed at him. "Dad, I didn't mean..."

But Aaron's patience had worn thin with his moody son. "Not now, Jack," he interrupted, his tone stern. "Right now, I need you to think about what you said and why it was completely unacceptable."

Jack swallowed hard, the gravity of his actions sinking in as he met his father's unwavering gaze. "I know, Dad. I messed up," he admitted, his voice tinged with remorse.

Aaron's frustration boiled over, his voice taking on the commanding tone he used when interrogating suspects. "You think you can just say whatever you want and there won't be consequences? You hurt her, Jack. You hurt someone who cares about you deeply, and I won't stand for it."

Jack's eyes widened, the full weight of his actions crashing down on him as he met his father's intense gaze. "I-I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to..."

But Aaron cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Apologies won't cut it this time, Jack. You need to understand the gravity of your words and the impact they have on people." As Aaron continued to reprimand his son, he couldn't shake the worry gnawing at him. He knew he had to find you, to make sure you were alright. With a final stern look at Jack, he turned on his heel and headed towards the kitchen, his footsteps heavy with concern.

As he entered the kitchen, his heart sank at the sight before him. There you were, hunched over on the floor, your shoulders shaking with sobs. Without hesitation, Aaron crossed the room and knelt beside you, gathering you into his arms.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. "You're alright, I've got you." Aaron felt a pang of anguish as he held you, his heart breaking at the depth of your pain. Gently, he lifted your chin, guiding your tear-filled eyes to meet his own.

"Honey," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "Listen to me. You may not be Jack's biological mother, but you are his mom in every sense of the word."

You shook your head weakly, unable to comprehend his words through the haze of your despair. "But I-I..."

"No buts," Aaron interrupted, his tone firm but gentle. "Every day, in every action, every moment of love and care you've shown him, you've proven yourself to be his mother. You've been there for him, supported him, loved him unconditionally. That's what a mom does. That’s what you are, sweetheart.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words washed over you, a glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness of your despair. "But Jack said..."

Aaron's expression softened, his thumb gently wiping away your tears. "Jack was angry and confused. He didn't mean what he said. And even if he did, it doesn't change the truth. You are his mother, my love, in every way that matters."

As his words sank in, a sense of warmth enveloped you, the weight of your anguish easing with each beat of your heart. In Aaron's arms, you found solace, reassurance, and a renewed sense of purpose. You leaned against Aaron's chest, letting the last of your tears fall, a sense of peace washed over you. His comforting presence wrapped you up in his warm embrace, grounding you in the certainty that together you’d be just fine. “Thank you.” You whispered as he held you in his embrace.

Aaron held you close, his hold on you a silent promise of unwavering support and love. "Anytime, honey," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of chaos. "We'll get through this together."

Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed in the kitchen, and you looked up to see Jack standing in the doorway, tears glistening in his eyes. His expression was wrought with guilt and remorse as he hesitated, unsure of how to approach you.

"Y/N," he began, his voice choked with emotion. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I just wanted to hurt you, but I didn't mean it. I didn’t mean it at all, I promise. I need you! You are my mom! Please don't leave me." His words came out quickly as he wiped away his own tears.

Your heart shattered at Jack's raw confession, the depth of his pain washing over you like a tidal wave. Without hesitation, you opened your arms, inviting him into the embrace. Aaron backed off letting the situation between the two most important people in his life play out.

Jack rushed over and threw his larger frame right into your arms You wrapped him up tightly as he let his own cries out. The weight of his own words crashing down on him in the instant he saw how much he had hurt you. He was just a kid, of course you could forgive him. "It's okay, Jack," you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion. "I know you didn't mean it. I love you so much. I'm not going anywhere."

“I can’t lose you too.” He let out a whimpered cry breaking your heart even further.

Tears streamed down your own cheeks as you held Jack close, the weight of his words settling over you. "You’ll never lose me, Jackie," you reassured him, using his old nickname, a sign of the deep love you two shared for each other.  "I'm here for you, always. Always and forever kiddo."

Jack's sobs began to subside as he clung to you, finding exactly what he needed in your embrace. "I love you. I’m so sorry." he whispered again. His voice filled with sincerity.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you gently pulled away to look into his eyes. "I love you too, Jack. It’s okay. I forgive you." You said again, reassuring him.

He nodded, relief flooding his features as he buried his face in your arms once more, the weight of guilt slowly lifting from his shoulders. "You are one of the best things that's ever happened to me," you continued, your voice filled with warmth and affection. "Other than your father," you added with a playful grin, feeling Jack's chuckle rumble against your side. He gave you one more squeeze before pulling away. The remorse still heavy on his face. Carefully, you brushed the stray tears away from his face showing him the love that the both of you needed.

As Aaron joined you both in the kitchen, his presence a reassuring anchor, you shared a smile, knowing that no matter what life threw your way, you would be okay. For truly these two were the best things that had ever happened to you.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: (Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade @kreepja @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kajjaka @guacam011y

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