#Decides the absolute BEST way to do it is blow up several parts of his own goddamn estate and blame it on Freya

[ominous-feychild]

✦ OC Questionnaire Tag 3 ✦

Thanks for the tag, @illarian-rambling!

Characters from Sun and Shadow: Freya, Crow, and Valyarus Characters from the Arcane Rifts: Gene, Tazin, and Mislav Featuring tAR's children at ages 15, 17, and 17! (Aka mid book 2.)

Questions: - Do you have a tell when you're lying? - What other media genre would you do the worst in? - Are you confident in yourself? from @the-letterbox-archives

Do you have a tell when you're lying?

Freya: Um... not that I know of? I'm not really in the habit of lying? (*remembers that she does, in fact, lie a lot... but mostly through omission of the truth!*) Haha... yeah! ... ugh, okay, um. If I had to guess... (*shifts uncomfortably in place*) it would probably be that I struggle in what to say? Though I kinda do that anyway? Ugh, I don't really know. (A/N: the easiest sign to tell that she's "lying" is that she avoids the subject completely. She'll change the subject or "get distracted". She also fidgets more, but that's something she does a lot anyways because she's awkward.)

Crow: Of course not! I don't lie anyway, so how would I find out? 😉🥰 (psst... Crow...) What? (You're supposed to basically be under truth serum for these Questionnaire posts...) Okay. And? 😘 (So you're telling me that you, a detective, have never told a lie once?) ... (See the issue there?) Nope! 😄 (A/N: WHELP! Uncooperative Crow understandably won't tell you, so I will. They're a very good liar, so it's hard to tell when they do. The best indicator is that they'll stumble slightly in their speech when almost saying something "they shouldn't" or they'll hesitate while trying to come up with a lie. The falters are always subtle though.)

Valyarus: (*snorts*) I would think not. Besides, I'm not in the habit of lying. There's too much magic that can force you into Truth-telling to be able to rely on it--no, best is operating in half-truths and implication. The best method of deception is allowing the one you wish to deceive to come up with the answers for themself. For example... (*slowly smirks, quirking an eyebrow*) I never said I don't lie just now... did I? (A/N: ahhh, our beloved douchebag faerie living up to his species's reputation. In other words: he's a fantastic "liar".)

Gene: I... don't know. I'd... like to think not. Maybe... maybe that I... (*takes a slow, deep breath, collecting himself*) ... I probably act more confident when I lie. I... I'm not confident. And probably don't... stutter as much. Or hesitate... So, speaking patterns? They--they change, I mean. My speaking patterns. When I lie.

Tazin: (*snarls*) I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, you got me? I--I-- (*struggling to lie because of the whole "these questions are answered under basically-truth serum" thing*) FINE! I don't fucking lie because I can't, okay? I avoid the subject! Or I just--I don't know, I just fucking lie??? How am I supposed to fucking know if I have a "tell"??? Don't you think I'd fucking fix it if I knew??? (A/N: he gets avoidant of the subject and/or highly aggressive to dissuade the asker from continuing at the moment... or generally asking again.)

Mislav: Um... this is a weird question?... I guess I don't really--(*remembers he lies literally all the time*)--lie... (*lets out a slow, pained sigh, running his hands back through his hair in frustration*) I don't know? I just--try my best to bullshit it? Try to make people feel better, or avoid giving them the information they want? I don't know??? (A/N: best indication is that he answers too quickly. He usually practices/rehearses his lies before it comes time to actually tell them. Otherwise (if he didn't expect to have to lie/doesn't have one prepared), he freezes up, stutters, and smiles/jokes too much as he tries "appeasing" or distracting the questioner.)

What other media genre would you do the worst in?

(we're going to be implanting Forbidden Knowledge of our Real World genres and whatnot for them to be able to best answer this!)

Freya: The horror genre. (*shudders*) I cannot deal with scary stuff, okay? I think I would be the first to die. I'd scream, or cry, and break down--probably try hitting the monster or whatever over the head with a chair when it turns the corner and, well... that never goes well in those sorts of things, does it?

Crow: Fairy tales. I'd either be the "lesson"--"don't do this or look what happens to you! You'll become Crow!"--or I'd be whatever the horrifying monster or villain is. I mean... (*laughs awkwardly, looking away and rubbing their shoulder feathers*) when you're me... you get used to knowing you're what's wrong with the world. (*beat. They realize what they've just said--*) I mean, romance. I'd probably annoy my love interest to death. 😎

Valyarus: (*fake gags, then with disgust:*) Romance. My only "biological" child was through magic, and I would not step foot near anyone with that sort of intention. I don't understand how others do. Much less why my daughter is so interested in Freya. They just met! (note: he's aroace and is equally disgusted with romance and sex. Also, yes, I know that's not how all aroace people are. I have plenty of other characters everywhere else in the spectrum. This is just where Valyarus is.)

Gene: Um... probably romance. I...'m not interested in it... not really. Be-besides with Mislav, I mean... and I... I don't even know why he likes me? 😅😓 ... people think I'm creepy. They don't say it--not to my face--but I know they think it. And I... I struggle to talk with people a lot. I try to say one thing, but they think I mean another?... I don't understand why. It's hard. And I--... I don't think I'd do well in that kind of story.

Tazin: The kinda thing where I'd have to teach. I don't have that kind of fucking patience, are you fucking kidding me? I think I'd explode on them. Maybe even literally. (*He pauses, considering it... and grins darkly*) Actually, wait--I take it back. I want to try. (I want to tag in and say traditional horror/thriller. I think the degree to which he'd freak out or curse out the monster would be comical and/or break the immersion, haha.)

Mislav: I would not be able to participate in a talk show or be in the news. A talk show? (*scoff*) Regardless of the subject, it wouldn't take long for me to be driven mad by their endless talking and pretending they know everything. The news? Even worse. I think I'd snap their mic in half. And only because I'd be struggling not to snap other things. <.< (read: necks, limbs, etc.)

Are you confident in yourself?

Freya: Ha... no, not really. I act like I am, but... y'know, it's just that--an act.

Crow: What's not to be confident about? I'm the greatest, I've never made a mistake in my life, and every decision I make is the best one I possibly can! 😘

Valyarus: (*poised on a grand chair; sipping tea elegantly with one hand while the other hangs over the side of the armrest. A nail file magically hangs in the air and is filing his nails while he sips tea*) Hm? What did you say? Oh. (*chuckles*) Of course I'm confident in myself. My abilities, my character, my decisions--everything. 😉💅

Gene: Depends what you mean by "myself"... (*goes quiet, looks away, and debates*) ... I... I try my best to make the right decisions. The best ones... that I possibly can. I--as hard as it is to not question them, it's--it's not good to worry about past decisions. I do my best, and that's--that's all I can do. So... (*takes a deep breath, collecting his thoughts*) I'm not confident, but I try to be.

Tazin: (*snarls*) Of course I'm confident. I've gotten this far, haven't I? (*and slowly starting to smirk instead--*) I mean, look at me. (*leans back and gestures at himself with both hands*) I used to live on the streets with Gene. Now I have a girlfriend. People used to be terrified at my name--and they still would be if I didn't have to stop with the whole "Svarog" thing. (*oops, snarls again and leans in close; threateningly*) Look, I don't care what anyone else says, but Gene wasn't the only reason we were successful! He wouldn't have gotten anywhere without my strength, got it!?!? (Is actually less confident than he thinks he is--overcompensates for that by having convinced himself that he's the greatest. Hm... wonder if that fits the diagnosis criteria for anything?)

Mislav: Ha... not at all. (*swallows and looks down at his hands, fighting back tears*) I... one of these days, this curse is going to take over me. Will I even know when it does? Or will it be slow enough that I never even recognize that I've changed? I... (*looks back up at asker*) I worry, one of these days, I'll only know it when I've done something I can't come back from...

Your questions: - Same as the ones I answered!

Tagging (with no pressure) @yourpenpaldee @honeybewrites @fantasy-things-and-such @wyked-ao3 @the-golden-comet

@paeliae-occasionally @ath3alin @mysticstarlightduck @the-letterbox-archives + open tags!

Divider from @cafekitsune

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is having a hard time trying to convince himself that being with you is wrong, but he plans another date anyway. You're floating on cloud nine after Saturday night, but you're quickly brought back down to earth the next time you see him. Lucky for you, Bradley more than makes up for his indiscretion at the end of the night.

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley was completely stunned, sitting on his living room couch with his soft cock hanging out of his jeans. He heard you start your car, and he saw your tail lights shine through the window blinds as you backed out of his driveway and drove away. 

After nearly a year of being touched by nobody but himself, you got him off so good, he still couldn't move ten minutes later.

"Holy shit," he whispered to his silent living room. You had just given him the best blowjob of his life. His entire life. Bradley had been with his fair share of women, gotten more head than he could keep track of. But you were the best. Hands down, the fucking best he had ever had. 

Maybe it was because it had been so long since he'd been with someone, but he tended to believe it was just you. He was so attracted to you, he should have known you would absolutely blow his mind like that. He should have known you would show up Amanda and Grace and Talia and become the only one he was thinking about. 

Then Bradley cradled his face in both of his hands. You had caught him ready to jerk off with your sweatshirt, moaning your name. How fucking embarrassing. And then you'd agreed to do him a favor and get him off. Your words echoed through his mind, "I can help you with that. If you want."

But you were unattainable. Off limits. The babysitter. Noah was so attached to you. When Nat found out, she was going to lose her mind. And probably not in a good way. Because Bradley was a thirty six year old man with a ridiculous crush on a woman twelve years younger than him. 

He forgot to pay you before you left. Oh god, how was he supposed to pay you after you sucked his cock for him? He was starting to feel worse and worse now. 

Before he could change his mind, he grabbed his phone and messaged back the first random woman who was trying to chat with him in the app. He'd set up another date. He'd set up a million more dates if he needed to. If he didn't get you out of his mind, he'd have to find a different babysitter and break Noah's heart. And probably his own as well.

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

You were still giggly the next day. You couldn't stop thinking about Bradley. You'd given him a blowjob. He had been moaning your name! You wanted to do that again. Maybe he felt the same way about you that you did about him. Your heart was pounding. 

After several texts from Greyson, you decided to keep ignoring him. You had a lot of schoolwork to catch up on, and it didn't help that you knew how big Bradley's dick was and how he tasted. He was bigger and better than Greyson in every way. It wasn't making your day easier envisioning Bradley's eyes practically rolling into the back of his head while you sucked him off, but you indulged in the memories anyway.

The fact that you were masturbating to the thought of him cumming in your mouth when Bradley texted you on Sunday evening should have embarrassed you. But it did not. It made you feel even hotter for him. You really hoped this was him making the next move.

Any chance you're free to come over on Wednesday when you finish your classes?

You bit your lip and squealed, forcing yourself to wait more than five seconds before you texted him back. And when you did, it was with a giddy smile.

I can head over right after class, Daddy. See you on Wednesday.

He didn't end up writing back, but you knew he was busy. So you spent the week avoiding Greyson as much as you could. And when you saw Penny when you were out taking a walk, she waved you down.

"How are things working out with Bradley and Noah?" she asked you with a smile. 

Your mind returned to the velvet feel of his erection gliding over your tongue and the broken, raspy groans of his delicious orgasm.

"Oh, so far so good," you said before pressing your lips together. "Noah is the sweetest child in the world. And Bradley, well. He's actually kind of sweet too."

Penny just laughed and nodded her head. "He really is. When my bartenders found out he's dating again, they both lost their minds. I was thinking about trying to see if he was interested in going out with either of them."

Your heart suddenly felt like it was resting against your lungs, making it difficult to breathe. "Oh. Do they seem like his type?"

Penny laughed harder now. "Bradley's type is female."

Okay, that you did believe. Or rather, you believed any woman who was into guys would be into Bradley. As long as you were cool with Noah, the man was the total package. 

"He only has the most wonderful things to say about you, too," Penny added with a smile. "He said that even though you're so young, he knows he can trust you with Noah. And I don't think he would say that about very many people."

You couldn't decide if that was a compliment or a slight against your age. And when you drove to his house after your final class on Wednesday, you started to feel awkward. Neither of you had mentioned the fact that the last time you were here, you'd had his dick in your mouth. 

"Hi," you called out when you let yourself in, and Noah came running to greet you at the door. You scooped him up in a hug and started to carry him to the kitchen. "Where's your dad?"

Noah just kind of shrugged. "Getting dressed." When you set Noah down at the kitchen table, you immediately noticed a coffee cup sitting on the kitchen counter with Princess scrawled across it. 

You picked it up and took one sip of the French vanilla latte, and then you heard Bradley's voice. "Hey. Princess." You spun around with a bright smile on your face, but his expression had you immediately biting your lip and furrowing your brow. He looked confused and irritated and maybe a little sad. None of those expressions were right for his handsome face.

"Hi," you said softly, hoping you could make him smile. "What are your plans for tonight? Going to try to give me a sore throat again?"

His gaze dropped to the floor, and then you really took in what he was wearing. A nice shirt and chinos. He was going out. He hadn't invited you over to see you at all. 

"Um, actually," he muttered, but you cut him off.

"Actually, you're going on another date?" 

"Yeah." He nodded and briefly met your eyes. "Someone from the app."

He only needed to use you to get his rocks off so he could go out with someone else. God, you were so fucking stupid. He didn't want you at all. He probably thought of you as practically a child. And maybe he found you attractive enough to think filthy things about you, and allow you to suck his dick, but that was it. 

"Okay, have a great time," you said, setting the coffee cup down on the counter. You didn't want another sip. 

"Princess," he whispered, reaching out for you. But you managed to sidestep him as you sat down next to Noah and picked up a coloring book. 

"I hope she's as much fun for you as I was on Saturday night," you said, biting down hard on your lip to keep from screaming at him. 

You felt his presence behind you to the point you could almost feel the warmth of his body. But he didn't say anything, he just placed your coffee cup on the table in front of you, spinning it until the writing was facing you. 

"Thanks for the coffee. I hope you find what you're looking for tonight."

You heard him swallow hard, and then he kissed Noah's head, and then he was gone. And you were left to color some dinosaurs with the kid you wanted to spend all your time with. Too bad his dad was sending you so many mixed signals, you felt like crying. 

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

Bradley felt like an asshole the entire time he was with Gabby. She seemed really sweet, but he couldn't stop thinking about what you said to him. As if you weren't what he was looking for. 

In all actuality, you really were not what he was looking for. But you seemed to be exactly what he wanted. But wanting someone and having long term compatibility were two completely different things. 

"So...." Gabby said for the third time. Bradley could barely focus on her or his dinner. "Tell me more about yourself, Bradley."

He started rambling on about work or some shit. He wasn't even really sure. This conversation was painful compared to the way you and he were together. Or at least the way you and he were before he started to fuck everything up between the two of you. The drunk kissing was bad enough, but the blowjob was just the nail in the coffin of the flirting with you that had him absolutely smitten in the first place. 

Now Gabby was saying something about her job, and he couldn't handle it anymore. "Gabby? Sorry, but I think I'm just too distracted for this tonight."

She glared at him across the table. "Yeah, I noticed. I don't care how handsome you are if you're going to be rude. Pull your head out of your ass next time you ask someone out."

"I'm sorry," he muttered as she stood up to leave, and not a minute later, the waiter arrived with both meals. 

He looked at Bradley cautiously. "Can you pack both of those to go? Please?" Bradley asked. He was going to have to leave this guy a hefty tip, but that was fine. 

He had barely been gone for an hour and a half, and that included driving to the far end of the city. When he pulled into his driveway, he grabbed both meals, and made sure he called out from the front door. "I'm back."

You popped around the corner with Noah in your arms, and Bradley's heart leapt. "You're early," you said in surprise. "We're just about to get in bed." Bradley could tell how tired Noah looked, but he could barely take his eyes off you. 

"Do you want to sing with us, daddy?" Noah asked with a yawn, and Bradley was of course drawn to the two of you like his life depended on it. 

"Of course, bub." A minute later, Bradley was watching you tuck his son into bed while you sang a ridiculous song about dinosaurs that sounded made up. But Noah knew all the words too, and you were both laughing. 

"Night, kiddo," you whispered, brushing his hair back from his forehead. Then you slipped past Bradley without another look in his direction. When he gently reached for your hand, you yanked yourself free and kept walking.

Bradley quickly kissed Noah, and then he was following you into the kitchen where you were packing up Noah's art supplies without a word. There was an open bag of Skittles on the table next to some of your textbooks, and Bradley didn't want you packing those things up. They looked like they belonged there. 

He cleared his throat. "I brought dinner back for you. If you want it."

You laughed a little sarcastically. "I'm not eating another woman's leftovers, but thanks anyway, Bradley." You put your books into your tote bag, and Bradley took a step closer to you.

"Princess," he whispered, and your eyes fluttered closed for a beat. He wanted you, and at times like this, he felt like you wanted him, too. "It's not leftovers. My date bailed before the food came out."

Your stomach growled when he opened the takeout containers, and you rolled your eyes. "Fine. I'm starving." He let you pick between the two meals, and you chose the one he had ordered for himself. He didn't care, he'd eat his date's food. He could barely even remember what her name was at this point, because you were plating and microwaving the entrees like you lived here. 

"I'll just eat quickly, and then I'll be out of your hair," you told him, taking a bite of his filet mignon. Bradley settled down into the seat next to you. He wanted more than anything to talk with you, but he didn't know how. Not after what he let you do last time you were here. So he just took a few bites of food and watched you. 

"Your date bailed early? What did you do?" you asked between bites of steak. Bradley watched your eyes flash with mischief. "Does she know what you did to get those free coffees from the barista?"

Bradley chuckled and shook his head. 

"Oh my god, did you insult her after she told the waitress to hold the salad dressing?" you said, biting into your plush, glossy lip. Then your expression clouded a bit. "She didn't say something negative about Noah?"

Bradley scraped the last bite of his food onto his fork and finished eating. "No. Actually I didn't even get to mention Noah. And I have no idea if she ordered a salad. I can't even remember if I had a salad, Princess. I was so distracted all night."

"Why were you distracted?" you asked softly while Bradley took both plates to the sink. 

He reached into the refrigerator and opened a beer, drinking half of it while he decided what he wanted to say to you. You popped a red Skittle followed by two yellow ones into your mouth, and the movement of your jaw took him back to Saturday night. His cock hitting the back of your throat. His hands on your jaw and your face. Those pretty lips wrapped around his balls. 

"Princess," he groaned, and he watched you shove the last few Skittles into your mouth before jumping to your feet.

"Well, I'm going to head out," you said a bit breathlessly. "Oh, and thanks for dinner and for clarifying that these were not sloppy seconds."

Bradley set his beer on the counter and followed you out into his living room, your tote bag swaying along with your ass in your tiny shorts. "Fuck, Princess. Wait. Please?"

"What?" you asked, glancing back over your shoulder. 

Bradley reached out and ran his fingers along your cheek inhaling the scent of wildflowers. "My date bailed, because I was awful. I wasn't paying any attention to her. I can barely even remember what she looked like."

You turned to face him. "What was her name?"

He shook his head. "I can't fucking remember. All I can remember is you. Even when I'm not with you. That's why she hightailed it out of the restaurant."

You pressed your lips together, but you didn't back away when Bradley stepped into your personal space. "You've been thinking about me?" you asked in barely a whisper.

"Nonstop, Princess. And you wanna know about sloppy seconds? Anyone else ever gives me a blowjob, and I'll be thinking about you the entire time."

Your lips parted on a soft gasp. "Oh."

He nodded, stroking his thumb across your lips. "Best I ever had. I already couldn't stop thinking about you, and that just made it a hundred times worse."

"Bradley," you whispered, pressing yourself against him. He didn't move as you eased yourself up onto your toes and kissed him. You nibbled softly on his lips and sighed, then looked up at him like you felt the same way he did. 

It was so innocent, so fucking sweet. Or it would have been if Bradley wasn't wrapping both hands around your hips and licking the seam of your lips. You parted them immediately for him as your arms came up to wrap around his neck. Bradley tasted your tongue and grunted when he felt your fingers running through his hair.

He broke the kiss and let his hands slide down to palm your ass. "You taste like Skittles. I love Skittles."

You smiled up at him. "Sorry, I didn't save you any." Bradley planted his lips on the side of your neck and listened to you moan and dig your fingers in his hair. 

"I don't deserve any, remember?" he asked, rubbing his mustache below your ear. "I'm a peasant. You're the princess."

You made a soft sound that went right to Bradley's cock as you guided his lips back to yours. "Last time you kissed me, you were drunk," you whispered to him before mashing your lips against his. You were pushing him, walking him back toward the couch, and Bradley couldn't help but go where you wanted him to. 

He sat down a little hard against the cushions, his head tipped back to look up at you. "Yeah. I was kind of drunk. And that was a sin, because my memories are a little fuzzy. And you deserve to be remembered with crystal clarity, Princess."

"Do I?" you asked coyly, standing between his spread legs and clasping your hands in front of you. 

Bradley reached out with his right hand and ran his knuckles up and down your thigh. "Listen, Princess. Your lips wrapped around my cock will fuel my fantasies for years to come, but right now I want my mouth involved as much as possible."

You were instantly climbing into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing your mouth to his again. Bradley welcomed you back into his arms like you belonged there. You peppered some kisses to his lips and mustache before you pulled away from him a little bit with a smile. You were irresistible, and he was grinning right back at you. 

"Okay, go ahead," you told him, gripping his hair and tipping his head away from you. Bradley grunted as your little denim shorts rubbed against his pants creating some friction. "Try to kiss me better than you did after you were out drinking the other night. Because I thought it was pretty great, actually."

He let you tug his hair which was making him throb for you. "What do I get if I win?"

You moaned softly. "The satisfaction of a job well done?"

He shook his head. "Not good enough."

You laughed. "A pat on the back?"

"No," he said, stroking your cheek with his fingers and coaxing your lips closer to his. "I want a fifty percent share of all Skittles consumed in my house."

You gasped so theatrically, he laughed out loud. "That's scandalous. Twenty five percent, or I'm leaving," But you were inching closer and closer to him.

"Deal, Princess," he whispered against your lips, and now he found himself trying to outdo any kisses that came before you. It actually wasn't hard. You'd been his best the last time you were here. Now he wanted to be the best for you. He started off slow now, his fingers teasing along your cheeks and all over your neck. He knew his mustache was prickling along your lip, but you seemed to like it as you were grinding against him a little bit now.

Bradley made sure he was using just the right amount of pressure with his lips, always drawing you back to his kisses. The little sounds at the back of your throat were encouraging, as were your fingers which had dipped inside his shirt at the back of his neck.

He sucked gently on your bottom lip now as his hands found their way to your waist. He nibbled softly on your lip before releasing it, and he was so pleased to see he had kissed off all of your lipgloss. Now your lips just looked extra pouty, and your eyes were needy. 

"How am I doing so far?" he teased, kissing along your chin and your jaw, eventually letting his lips settle on the front of your neck. 

"You must really want those Skittles," you gasped, head tipped back as he worked his mouth against your soft skin. He sucked gently on you there, nearly thrusting against you as you rubbed yourself on him. "Oh!"

And then his hands were a little rougher, squeezing your hips and wrapping around the back of your neck. You leaned into him, clearly not afraid of what his body was demanding as he tasted your tongue and your teeth. He felt your hands on his chest and abs. He could feel your warmth against his cock as you rocked your body into his. He could feel your nipples, hard and rubbing his chest through too much fabric. 

"Princess?" he asked, his lips brushing against yours. 

"Yeah, okay," you said, gasping against his lips, kissing him between sentences. "You win. Twenty five percent of the Skittles. They are yours."

He kissed you, laughing against your lips. "That's really nice and all, baby. But I'd rather taste you right now?"

"Me?" you asked softly, putting a few inches between your mouth and his.

"I want to know if you taste sweet all over, Princess. Will you let me find out?" he asked, stroking his index finger along the zipper of your shorts. He was gauging your reaction to him as you bit your lip and tried to squeeze your thighs together. 

"You want to go down on me?" you whispered, hands gasping along his abs.  

He nodded. "Real fucking bad, Princess."

You licked your swollen lips and whimpered. "Okay, Daddy."

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

Bradley had been so sweet, his brown eyes like something from your dreams. His lips and his hands were all over you, turning you on and making you so wet. But now he wanted to taste you? Find out if you were sweet?

As soon as you called him Daddy again, he had the front of your shorts open, and you were lying on the couch on your back with his big body over yours. 

A moan escaped your lips as soon as he eased his hand inside the front of your underwear and over your clit, and then his mouth was on yours, devouring you. You were making little noises against his lips as he stroked you just the way you liked to touch yourself. It was like he knew how crazy this would make you. And when his other hand ended up inside your shirt, pulling down your bra and stroking your nipples, you groaned his name. 

"You're soaking wet," he said, rubbing his mustache along your jaw in time with his fingers as they worked their way down toward your opening. He teased you like that until you were begging him for more, your fingers tangling wildly in his hair. 

"Please, please," you gasped, and then Bradley was sitting back a bit, his hard dick on display for you through his pants. He yanked your jean shorts down your legs and tossed them to the floor, followed by your lacy, white underwear. 

"Oh, fuck me," he groaned as he looked at you, bare for him from the waist down, except for your socks and sneakers which he left on. 

Then without hesitation, Bradley stroked his hands up the backs of your thighs, spread them wide and brought his mouth down to your pussy. He placed the softest kiss against you there, his mustache making you bite down on your lip in response to the sensation. 

"Bradley," you gasped, feeling your lower back arch off the couch as he ran his tongue from your opening all the way up to your clit in one glorious swipe. 

You should have been embarrassed by the way you were reacting to him. But he just looked up at you with his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently before he released you. "You're so sensitive, Princess," he grunted. And then he was running his nose through your wetness and kissing you everywhere. "And you taste so good."

This didn't feel like you expected it to; it felt so much better than that. Bradley's lips and mustache and his fingers and tongue. Everything he did had you gasping, crying out for more. 

"I got you," he promised, spreading your legs wider every time you tried to squeeze them against his head. You were writhing against the couch now, simultaneously trying to pull yourself away from his mouth and also rub your clit against his nose for more. 

"Oh god!" you groaned, loud enough that you should be concerned about waking up Noah. But you couldn't stop! Bradley was licking up and down your slit with sure movements and then sucking on your clit until you were practically in tears. Over and over again. Then Bradley was shoving his fingers inside you and kissing your clit before circling it with his thumb.

"You're getting loud, Princess," he whispered, guiding his body over top of yours again. You wrapped your legs around his hips when he kissed you with his wet lips and face. You were licking yourself off his lips when he asked, "You like how you taste? You're so sweet."

You could only whine in agreement as he pushed your shirt up and buried his face against your lace covered breasts. He kissed his way back down your body, and soon you were grinding against his face while he held your thighs. 

"Oh, god, oh!" you gasped when he was licking and sucking again. You closed your eyes tight as your legs started to shake. And then Bradley pumped his fingers into you a little slower and sucked on your clit with a little more pressure, and you felt yourself clenching hard. You rode his fingers with your feet planted on his shoulders, and he looked up at you like he owned you. 

"Daddy!" you cried out, enjoying what was quite obviously the longest and best orgasm of your life. 

"Call me Daddy again," he demanded before sealing his pretty lips around your clit once more and sucking.

"Daddy!" you groaned, pulsing around his fingers. And then everything felt wet. Really wet. And Bradley's face turned to an expression of awe. And his face was wet, too. You sat up and looked down your body to where his fingers were still rammed inside your pussy. But the couch was wet. "What happened?" you asked, but his lips were on yours, and he was pushing you back down again. 

"Princess," he groaned, still moving his fingers gently inside you, and now you were finally coming down fully from the peak of pleasure he had brought to your body. "Christ Almighty, baby. You're the sweetest fucking thing, aren't you?" He kept praising you, his lips all over your face. And when he finally withdrew his fingers and brought them up to his mouth, you helped him lick them clean. 

And then he was gaping down at you, stroking his knuckles along your cheek. "What happened?" you asked softly. You didn't think your body would ever recover fully enough for you to speak louder than this, but you didn't care. Everything felt too good. 

"You squirted for me," he replied, those big brown eyes roaming all over your face before he kissed you. 

Oh. You still felt wet. You had made a mess on his couch. You could feel the warmth rising in your cheeks. "I didn't mean to," you whispered, suddenly feeling very shy.

"Was so hot," Bradley whispered next to your ear. "Princess." His lips on the shell of your ear and his hard cock pressing against your hip made you feel a little bolder. You tried to sit up, but he was huge on top of you.

"Do you want me to get you off?" you asked, reaching down toward him. But Bradley took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles. 

"No. You've done plenty. You're a Princess, made to be worshipped." You settled back against the couch cushions and let him kiss along your neck until he had his fill.

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

Bradley helped you get dressed. Then he walked you to your car. Then he kissed you goodnight. And then he paid you for watching Noah which made him feel physically sick. You tried to push the money away, but he insisted. Then he went back inside into the bathroom and came hard after stroking himself three times to the thought of your pussy soaking his face. 

He was a mess. A literal fucking mess now. He sat down on the bathroom floor. He had no idea what to do. But then he laughed out loud when he remembered how his night started. He had been on a date with some random faceless woman earlier, but his night had ended with his own face buried in your pussy. 

This was not a good idea. None of this was a good idea. He needed to figure this the fuck out. 

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

Nice work, Bradley. Amazing effort. Enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

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[grandlinedreams]

Hello, I've been reading Ur fics lately (esp with law) and I love them

I was wondering if you could make angst? Like... Let's say there's this big battle, like the one in wano, where reader and law gets separated, but after the battle Law finds reader unconscious and being treated by chopper who then explains they had severe wounds and might need blood transfusion.

It also just happens that he was gonna confess to them after all of the chaos so that they'd be safe in his arms. And that might not even happen since now they have each foot on both worlds.

I'd imagine Law going along with talking to them even if they're unconscious just to keep them here in the living. (If they're alone ofc)

I hope that's alright

OUGH some angst my beloved,,,i can absolutely do that, I hope I do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: angst, serious injuries, some brief medical talk, hurt/very little comfort, keeping in line w Law literally calling none of the Strawhats by their names, open-ended]

Truth be told, Law doesn't keep much of an eye on you during battles. It's hard enough keeping an eye on what the enemy is doing ㅡ especially if the Strawhats are involved. They ㅡ especially their captain ㅡ have a knack for blowing careful plans out of the water and he's forced to play damage control until it's over.

You're also fully capable of looking after yourself, and he trusts you and your skillset. So when he doesn't immediately find you once things have started settling down, he doesn't think much of it.

When five minutes turns to ten, then to fifteen, then half an hour, however, alarm bells start going off in his head. You've never taken this long to check in with him. Has something happened? Have you beenㅡ

No, he won't let himself think of that option. Not now, not ever. So he keeps as optimistic as reality will allow him ㅡ until he hears his name being called.

"Oi, Law!"

It's Sanji. "What is it, Blackleg?"

The blond's expression is his first warning that whatever it is, it isn't pleasant. "Chopper told me to come get you."

That's his second warning. Eyes narrowing and trying to rifle through potential scenarios from best case to worst, he follows Sanji silently until they reach where Chopper is ㅡ and Law stares at who the little reindeer is desperately trying to patch up.

It's you.

Part of him whispers harshly that this is par for the course, that he's worn out his luck in terms of keeping you safe ㅡ another notes that he's never seen you look more fragile.

"What happened." It's a demand as he takes in the bandages all over you, trying not to think about how most of them are already soaked with blood. Your blood.

He barely hears the explanation above the rising ringing in his ears, but he gathers enough to find it in himself to mentally curse your perchance for heroics. He's told you time and time again that your self-sacrificing attitude will get you into trouble, and now it has. (As if he isn't guilty of it too from time to time, but that's neither here nor there.)

"They need a transfusion," he says, kneels to gather you into his arms, trying not to focus on how limp you are. "I'll take it from here."

If Chopper protests, he doesn't stick around long enough to hear it. From the second he sets foot back on the Polar Tang, it's a blur.

Bandages are stripped from you and replaced, an IV of fluid in one arm, blood in the other. One of the defaults to joining the crew is letting him know blood type so he has it on hand, and he's never been more grateful to have it and less so that he needs to use it.

For the next few hours, Law hardly blinks, barely lets himself breathe ㅡ afraid that somewhere between, you'll slip from him. He can feel the cold circle of death around you, measuring, evaluating. Deciding if you go, or if you stay.

He wants you to stay. If there were ever a way to guarantee that you do, he'd do it now ㅡ but there isn't. So he sits, counts your breath (in, out. Up, down.), and waits.

And he talks.

He tells you that you're a pain, that you need to stop thinking so much of others before yourself, that a quality like that is only admirable until it means a grave instead of life. That you shouldn't be so cavalier with your time, that there are people who care about you, and what are they supposed to do if you die?

He means himself in that too. He's gotten accustomed to your presence, the way you've slotted your way into his routines and habits like you belong, and perhaps, were he a romantic, he'd say you always have. But he hardly has time for that, barely lets himself entertain it ㅡ too soft, too ideal, too good to be true. Always too much of something.

But he wants it, wants you ㅡ wonders if he'll even get the slimmest chance to tell you now. Law could tell you now, but he doesn't. He's afraid if he does, it'll tip the scales further from his favor and he'll undoubtedly lose you.

He can't do that.

It isn't fair ㅡ but when has the world ever felt fit to treat him in a way that could ever be seen as kind enough to be called fair?

[trutrustories]

STUDY IN LOKI ROMANCE

Part 3: 1893

Since we're only a few days away from the last episode, I decided to COUNT DOWN everything we´ve got so far ( that can be interpreted very easily as romantic ) and discuss what the actual fuck is going on with second season. Because even though I shipped lokius practically from S1E2, I absolutely did NOT expect this kind of development. (Not that I´m complaining)

Warning: This is gonna be LONG post, lots of screenshots, lots of SPOILERS, lot of "oh-my-god-they-so-cute" language, and little bit of meta.

I originally thought that this post would be everything at once, but since I have just too many screenshots this time around, I´ll have to split it. so every post will be one episode. Color coding means:

IIIIIIIIII = anything, that coud potentialy be just acting choice.

IIIIIIIIII = everything else (tzn.: whatever was written, and/or carefully prepared by filmmakers. )

side note: I already wrote, about how amazing it is, that Mobius is unable to fight but fights anyway and how beautifuly, and ridiculously brave he is HERE. But this is about Loki/Mobius interactions, so I´ll try my best not to talk about THAT. (Even when I´m really happy, that s2 continues with this formula and Mobius is still his completely defenseless while aggressively brave self. I love him, btw.)

EPISODE 1 HERE EPISODE 2 HERE

Episode 3, here we go:

22) matching suits part 2 anyone, who work on those costumes: I want to kiss you all!

23) Another exhibition of touches:

the challange name is: "how close we can get, before we sink into each other"

24) "And they lived happily ever after..." They had some lokius fan in the editing room, I´m telling ya! This retro movie style transition... THAT is my roman empire...

like seriously? what is the purpose of this? I can´t wrap my head around it. someone just thought that it is really crucial to end this scene with two of them in a circle. OK.

but WHY?

It was LITTERALY used only once! (I´m sorry, but as someone, who works as an editor, this just driving me crazy 🤒🫠)

25) Loki and Mobius enjoying popcorn:

I have several things to say here:

ever heard about when one person is "forced" to have fun for the first time, and to try new things by the other person, and he´s protesting and is all about work and serious matters, but secretly loves it and is visibly relaxed and happy? - Because I´m sure this is some bloody romantic comedy trope, that everyone have seen about hundred times!

"Oh look, you have a piece of food on the chin, let me just…"

I know I already said this somewhere, but, this is the moment, where in my language suddenly (completely randomly) switched from formal way of speaking to each other to intimate way of speaking to each other. (I´m Czech, btw, and I have no idea, what happened in that recording studio but it had to be interesting)

26) Also... Bickering like married couple (part 3)

27) "You know sometimes I forget, that you are one of them... Blows my mind!"

Mobius being Loki´s fan.

Also yeas. Loki is one of them. God. And Mobius is a small, normal dude. JUST A HUMAN. Analyst, even! And they´re eating popcorn together.... also Loki will do whatever Mobius wishes

28) another "let´s be as close as we physically can" challange

Loki can´t keep only eye on him. he needs hands, because reasons

29) Mobius supporting Loki in using magic...

... or I should say Loki using Magic, whenever Mobius wishes, because...

"Will you handle this please?" "Gently!"

And on top of that... not him, explaining, what just happened, to the public, by: "The amazing Loki, everyone! He´ll be here all week! 🥳🥳🥳"

who the heck asked, Mobius? stop showing off with your magical boyfriend

30) Victor/Ravonna - the most transparent mirror ever:

THIS scene? Are you kidding? Ravonna running towards Victor: "Mr Timley! are you okay? And Mobius running practicly at the same time towards Loki with: You allright?" and both helping their man up on their feet?! IN SYNC! this is too much.

WTF

31) THE BIKE THIS. this is the most GREENLY green point, I can think of. Someone had to have this vision. This idea. And put it in to screenplay. Someone had to find the bike. Someone was shooting this. Camera is moving around them. And they were all like GREAT idea, let´s have them riding tandem bike while chasing Ravonna and Timely, that makes complete sense! (even when we have Loki chasing Brad USING MAGIC one episode back) anyway... ever heard about "let´s do this crazy stupid thing - absolutely not - and then they do the thing" trope?

32) Loki going with Mobius, not even thinking about it anymore.

And to think, that I was expecting something like S01E03 (Lamentis episode)! Once again, I wasn´t prepared for amount of Lokius content I was actually served. What a surprise! 🤯

[rocketboots564]

I decided to write more of my first time reactions and thoughts to rvb Season 9!

This should (hopefully) be the third and final part for season 9.

Season 9 part 3:

Imagine showing up to your funeral, and they don’t even give you a respectable eulogy… They just talk shit about how you talked a lot…

Yeah I would kill all of them… Simmons is 10 times the man I’ll ever be.

Oh so Maine straight up stole the grenade launcher! Kinda like he did with AI units… history is a full circle once again

You know… I feel like the director should’ve given them equipment just in case the sarcophagus thing was heavy. Which it is. The Director is a really bad boss

Understatement of the century I know

Washington I’m 80% sure half the things you freelancers do is improvise… and honestly I’d be sick of it too

Oh yeah Carolina let’s just fucking kick out friends off of a SEVERAL STORIES TALL BUILDING. You’re lucky you have that armor.

The freelancers do heists the same way I played Payday 2: Five minutes of stealth before going “nah fuck this” and blasting the brains of some poor shmuck all over the walls

I think you SHOULD feel bad for the people down there, you tossed MAINE at them Carolina.

You chose to use the flamethrower… inside a building… no wonder the freelancers kick your guy’s asses on the reg… yall are fucking idiots

DONT YOU DISRESPECT THAT GUN IT SAVED OUR ASS IN REACH. Bouncy gun is fun

“That bit with the purple plane? That was just showing off,” well when your number one in Freelancer ranked mode you might as well act like it Wash

You know Carolina kinda acts like Tex a bit. No wonder they’re at odds. There’s only room for one dommy mommy bisexual badass in this show

Oh it’s not a bomb… it’s worse… it’s a big ass fucking lazer

AHSBBFMSM THE JPEG EXPLOSION is KILING ME

Yeah Carolina I bet it is karma… deserved Karma

NOT THE XYLOPHONE!

CAROLINA HITTING THE FUCKING Sonic Adventure 2 CITY ESCAPE “talk about low budget flights. No food or movies? I’m outta here!” ON THE SARCOPHAGUS

I’m surprised Project Freelancer wasn’t investigated and shut down earlier with how much property damage and civilians they endanger.

Tex being responsible about the about the team is a nice change of pace–oh she was paid…. makes sense.

Simmons can play the Banjo? When’s his new single dropping?

Grif be supportive of your Brofriend (Bro + Boyfriend = Brofriend)

Wow… imagine your best friend being closer with your ex/not-ex girlfriend than you.

Couldn’t be me Church… mainly cause I’m gay and don’t have a girlfriend

Sarge, the planet is quite literally breaking apart, and your plan is to blow it up… honestly I’m not even surprised.

It’s actually astounding how absolutely this heist went to shit… and quickly too.

“We had to learn to care for our equipment” Tex says. Cut to five minutes ago where she drove a motorcycle through a glass wall.

HOLY SHIT MAINE CAN TAKE SOME DAMAGE! I mean I know they’re wearing Spartan armor and all, but JEEZE.

I love how even the freelancers almost (emphasis on almost) fumble their stuff like the red and blue teams.

Like when Carolina juggles the briefcase in the air before getting a hold of it, and then immediately getting kicked back.

Damn… more Carolina and Tex beef.

How much do I wanna bet Grif’s plan is gonna backfire hilariously?

Yes it backfired horribly… because now Andy exists… again

Oh hey Delta was born! Great! Which means Alpha/Church was just tortured to the point that his mind split…. Not great…

“We’re the good guys? Right?” Oh… you’re concerned you’re not? What clued you in, the insane property damage, murder, or endangered civilians?

“I forget you…” AAAHHH WHAT THE FUCK THAT IS SO SAD YET SO GOOD.

And they brought him back… that’s actually really fucking funny.

THEYRE GONNA KILL THE DIRECTOR?! AWWW YES THIS MOTHERFUCKER HAS IT COMING.

Conclusion: YES I CANT WAIT TO WATCH SEASON 10

[tourettesdog]

Ectober Day 4: Box and Staff

Title: Sleepy Time

Word Count: 5243

AO3 Link

Summary:

Danny is a very sleepy ghost boy and at this point anything qualifies as a bed.

---

What Danny wouldn’t give for just one peaceful night. One night where he could lie down, fall fast asleep, and stay asleep for a humane amount of hours. No matter how often he patrolled, it seemed there was always a ghost waiting to attack at the unholy hour of 2AM. 

The entire weekend had followed this pattern, with ghost attacks interspersed throughout the day. Skulker woke Danny up with a loud, resounding shout Friday night that had his parents up in arms. Between running Skulker a safe distance away– determined not to have another fight destroy part of the lab– and his parents chasing after, firing indiscriminately, Danny had no chance to rest that night. 

He still had traces of a bruise on his chin from that particular debacle. 

Saturday had been little better when Technus decided that their neighbor’s old sedan fit perfectly with his latest collection of tech. There were still trees blocking part of the road outside their house from the bulky machine careening down the street.

Sunday followed this same pattern, with Johnny 13 making a mad dash away from Amity Park on his motorcycle, forcing Danny to chase after him. They’d almost wound up in West Virginia by the time Danny caught him, and the lonely flight back took what little energy he had left at that point.

Danny thought he might finally get some rest when he returned to Illinois and sank into his bed– until an ectopus drifted past his bedroom window.

The ectopus hardly put up a fight, but Danny struggled to fall asleep afterwards, waking up at random intervals, tossing and turning. By the time the sun rose, Danny stared out his window with squinted eyes, groaning.

Of course he had to have school today. He already had a headache.

Danny dragged his feet through the halls of Casper High, head hung low, messy black bangs draped over his eyes as he made his way to his locker. Tucker already stood there waiting for him and gave a sympathetic ‘oof’ when Danny smacked his head against the door to his locker.

“Another bad night, then?” Tucker asked, patting Danny on the shoulder.

Danny lifted his head just high enough to smack it back against the locker with a clang.

“Ow…” he mumbled, wincing as his headache pounded.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Tucker observed.

Danny turned his head to look up at Tucker. His friend was several inches taller now, though that didn’t say much when Danny barely brushed five feet. 

“I think I slept maybe two hours all weekend,” Danny groaned. 

Tucker grimaced. “You gonna be okay, dude? You sure you can make it today?”

Danny stood up straight long enough to root through his locker and pull out the books he needed for the day. He shoved them into his backpack and fought with the zipper to close it. 

“At this rate, I’ll be lucky if I make it through our first class,” Danny grumbled, teeth gritted as he tugged harder on the zipper.

Yanking too hard, Danny accidentally ripped the zipper clean off of his bag.

Staring at the piece of shattered metal in his hand, Danny slumped back against his locker, shut his eyes, and rhythmically smacked the back of his head against it.

“Yikes, what’s eating him?” Danny heard Sam ask.

“No sleep again, and he just decimated the zipper on his bag,” Tucker said.

Sam audibly sighed. Danny felt a hand grab his arm and pull him away from his locker. 

“You get enough blows to the head without giving yourself more of them,” Sam said. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

Sam helped Danny get his bag rearranged, but there wasn’t much they could do for the zipper. They managed to strap it closed with an old cable, but it looked an absolute mess. At least the thermos wouldn’t fall out of the bag, which was frankly all that mattered to Danny. He had a spare bag at home he could swap it out with later.

Danny tried his best to stay awake during his first class, but it seemed as if the universe was conspiring against him. Danny sat by the window and the warm sunlight filtering through the blinds dragged his eyelids low. It was all he could do to resist the urge to curl up on his desk like a cat and soak in the warmth.

It didn’t help that Mr. Lancer’s history lesson droned into a monotonous lecture. Mr. Lancer usually tried to show some level of enthusiasm for what he was teaching, but it seemed even he had no interest in the particular branch of US history they were learning. That or, judging by the way he pinched at his tear ducts, he might simply have had a migraine.

Between lack of sleep, his sun-warmed desk, and the droning lecture, Danny was asleep within five minutes. 

Mercifully, Tucker noticed in time to shake him awake. Danny gave him an awkward thumbs up over his shoulder.

This proceeded to happen no less than three times, until Tucker just took to rhythmically kicking the back of Danny’s seat to keep him awake. That worked for a while, but Danny eventually still managed to slip back into a light doze.

When the bell rang, Danny startled awake, lurching as his head fell out of his hand and he tipped dangerously to the side. He jumped to his feet, as though ready to fight something, and only calmed when Tucker patted his shoulder.

“Come on, Spooky, there’s nothing to punch,” he said.

Blushing slightly, Danny gathered his mess of a bag and slung it over his shoulder. He followed Tucker to the front of the class, pausing when Mr. Lancer cleared his throat.

“Mr. Fenton, I expect you to be more alert in time for my English quiz,” he said while rubbing at his left temple.

Danny nodded his head. “Sorry, I will be,” he mumbled.

Mr. Lancer gave a firm nod and went back to reading from the book on his desk. Danny quickly sped to catch up with Tucker at the door. They met with Sam in the hall and headed for gym class. 

Danny grabbed his gym clothes and took them to the toilet stalls to change as usual. It was a hot day, easily over eighty degrees, but Danny kept his red sweatshirt on over his gym clothes. He’d rather flare his core to keep cool than go without it.

Unfortunately, flaring his core required using more energy. It was fine at first when their class walked down the field to play soccer, but Danny quickly lost steam from there. He trudged along beside Tucker, who stuck resolutely close to the slight chill Danny put off. It was a struggle to keep up the pretense of trying– though Dash helped, in an ironic way. He kept kicking the ball towards (at) Danny, and running past him close enough to knock shoulders. With him constantly engaging Danny, it at least gave the appearance of him participating. Danny could have done without the bruises to his shoulder, but at least Ms. Tetslaff wasn’t yelling at him. 

Still, by the time they headed back towards the gym, Danny wasn’t able to keep the chill of his core flared enough to stave off the heat. He leaned miserably against Sam, letting her half-drag him up the hill. She reviewed book notes for their English quiz as they walked, though Danny hardly absorbed the words.

Between Tucker keeping him awake in class, and Sam almost carrying him, Danny owed his friends big time. He wasn’t sure where he’d be without them.

Probably in a ditch somewhere.

(Asleep, that is. The dying thing had already sailed.)

Danny welcomed their lunch period with open arms, prepared to put his head down and have a well-deserved nap.

Unfortunately, a ghost had other ideas.

The timing was impressive, in all honesty. No sooner had Danny pillowed his head on his arms, sighing contently, when that sigh turned into a puff of blue mist.

The expletive he shouted drew a few stares.

It didn't take long for Danny to find the culprit. A loud crashing sound echoed from the hallway outside the cafeteria. After darting in the restroom to transform, Danny followed the noise.

He found Boxy wreaking havoc on the science department, upending what appeared to be boxes of new lab equipment. Danny watched as one of the boxes tipped upside down. It sent a large package of beakers crashing to the ground, smashing Danny's own record within seconds.

Were he better rested and thinking straight, Danny might have been able to save the rest of the supplies from destruction. Seeing as he was barely awake and squinting through bleary eyes, however, it didn't occur to Danny to catch any of the boxes when he souped the Box Ghost from the air.

The rest of the lab equipment crashed down in Boxy's absence, the sound a monstrous crescendo of shattering glass and crunching metal.

Danny noticed a teacher in the corner of the room. She stared, open-mouthed with horror at the destruction. 

As Danny awkwardly backstepped out of the room, a sheepish grin on his face, she burst into tears.

When Danny returned to the cafeteria with nine minutes to spare, he gave Sam and Tucker a dispassionate, "Don't ask," before planting his forehead on the table and passing out.

The day continued to nosedive, as it often did, with Mr. Lancer's English class.

Danny liked Mr. Lancer well enough as a teacher, but he unfortunately still believed in Danny enough to keep him on his toes. Many of the teachers no longer reprimanded him for falling asleep or missing assignments, but Mr. Lancer was determined to make Danny apply himself. It would have been touching that he cared, were it not so frustrating.

As it was, Danny stared at his English quiz, seeing double. The words blurred and morphed together, smudged through his bleary vision. It was all Danny could do to keep his drooping eyelids from shutting tight.

Tucker didn't sit behind him in this class, so there was no rhythmic chair kicking to keep Danny awake. Sam did sit beside him– and she definitely threw a pencil at him the first time his eyes snapped shut– but there wasn't much she could do discreetly during a test.

Inevitably, Danny's eyes shut tight as he leaned into his hand, propped up on his elbow. 

Danny was flying, drifting on a warm breeze. A clear sky glittered overhead, the stars turning, spinning, blinking in wavering patterns.

Flipping on his back, crossing his arms behind his head, Danny watched as the stars coalesced in a brilliant tapestry. A landscape opened up across the heavens, towering mountains and low valleys of radiant stardust.

“Mr. Fenton.”

The landscape rippled, as though caught in a rough breeze. The wind blew harshly against Danny’s face, suddenly cold.

“Mr. Fenton.”

A strong gust of wind scattered the stardust to nothing. It left the sky inky black and empty, yawning overhead– crashing down as the wind roared loudly in Danny’s ears, icy and sharp. 

Soon, all that remained was that wind. Danny tensed, searching for something– anything in the darkness that sprung up around him.

Something tapped his shoulder.

Danny shot up suddenly, his desk scraping loudly across the floor as he stood. He braced himself for a fight, but… froze when he saw Mr. Lancer staring down at him with an eyebrow raised.

Snickers broke out around him and Danny glanced to his right in time to see Sam facepalm. 

“Is there any particular reason you can’t stay awake today, Mr. Fenton?” Mr. Lancer asked, drawing Danny’s attention back to him.

Danny was now as sure as he could be that Mr. Lancer had a migraine. The bags under his eyes weren’t as dark as Danny’s, but they were deeper than usual. He kept rubbing at his temple still, almost absently.

“Sorry, Mr. Lancer,” Danny said as he awkwardly sat back down. “Just… a headache.” 

Truthfully, he did still have a headache. Probably not one as bad as Mr. Lancer’s, but Danny didn’t think that sleep deprivation was an answer his teacher would take lightly.

Glancing across the classroom, Danny could see Tucker giving him a commiserating smile, and Dash miming someone startling badly. Several classmates weren’t even watching, though. This situation happened frequently enough that it had lost some of its novelty.

Mr. Lancer sighed. “Do you need to go to the nurse’s office, Mr. Fenton?” he asked. 

Danny cringed, sinking down a little in his seat. He hadn’t been to the nurse’s office for over a year now, since the Accident, and he wasn’t about to start now over a small headache.

“N–no I think I’m good,” he said quickly. 

Mr. Lancer sighed again, shaking his head. “I’d like you to stay after class, Mr. Fenton. Please try to stay awake enough to finish your quiz until then.”

He turned and went back to his desk, saying, “Ten more minutes; use your time wisely,” to the class before he sat down.

Danny rubbed at his face in frustration, groaning as he distinctly heard Dash snicker.

By the time class ended, Danny had managed to stay awake, but he had not managed to finish the quiz. It didn’t help that he had hardly read the book assignment– The Catcher in the Rye– and his memory of Sam’s notes was vague at best. He was confident in maybe three of his answers, and certain that his incomplete essay at the end would be poorly received. 

Sam and Tucker gave Danny encouraging thumbs up as they left the room. He knew they’d both wait for him in the hall.

After tying the cable back around his backpack, Danny dragged his feet to the front of the classroom. He stood in front of Mr. Lancer’s desk, waiting for the man to address him. He was grading a stack of papers, marking them with a red pen as he went.

“How is your head feeling?” Mr. Lancer asked without looking up.

The question threw Danny off kilter. He paused, wracking his mind for suitable words. “Uh, it’s getting better. I took some ibuprofen earlier,” he said.

Danny had not taken ibuprofen earlier. He had to take three or four times the recommended dose for it to even touch his pain these days, and a small headache wasn’t worth the trouble.

Mr. Lancer gave him a nod. He made one last mark on the paper in front of him, circling a line of text near the bottom of the page, before he finally looked up.

“Is there anything else going on, Mr. Fenton?” he asked.

His green eyes bored into Danny’s, and he had the distinct feeling of being scanned. It was moments like this that reminded Danny why Jazz liked Mr. Lancer as a teacher so much. Both of them were perceptive when it came to people.

“No?” Danny started, cringing a little at the uncertain tone in his own voice. “I mean, I didn’t really sleep well last night, but… yeah.” 

He trailed off, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

Mr. Lancer looked him up and down, his eyes settling on the slight bruising he still had on his cheek.

"If there's anything troubling you at home, I am always here to listen, Daniel," he said. 

Danny shuffled uncomfortably, digging his shoe into the linoleum floor. 

“Now,” Mr. Lancer began, reaching for a folder on the far side of his desk, “I won’t give you detention this time, but if I catch you sleeping in my classroom tomorrow I won’t be so lenient. Forgo any… extracurriculars tonight and get some sleep, Mr. Fenton. Have a good evening.”

Blinking dazedly, Danny could only nod and stutter out a confused, “Y-you too– the good evening thing, that is.”

Gripping the straps of his book bag tightly, Danny hurried out the door before Mr. Lancer could change his mind.

Sam and Tucker were the only people left in the hallway. It was the end of the school day and most people had already left or carried on to after school activities. Tucker swung an arm over Danny’s shoulders as they fell into step together.

“So, when’s your detention?” Tucker asked him.

Danny snorted. For once, he was happy to have an answer for that question. “Didn’t get detention,” he said, shooting his friend a fanged grin.

Tucker gasped and ground to a stop, jostling Danny beneath his arm. “Wait, really? What did he say?”

“He just… asked what was wrong. Told me I could talk to him if something was bothering me,” he said with a shrug. “It was kind of weird–  but in a nice way.”

The trio resumed walking, turning around the corner. They passed by the science department where several staff members were still cleaning up the broken glass. Sam slowed, craning her neck to get a better look, but Danny grabbed her arm and sped up, not wanting to linger by the mess.

He had forgotten how hot it was outside. The moment they stepped out into the heat, Danny groaned. What little energy had been startled into him by his nervous interaction with Mr. Lancer had faded, sapped away by fatigue. He leaned into Tucker as they went down the school steps and towards the sidewalk.

“You really should go get some sleep, dude,” Tucker said, eyeing Danny. “You look dead on your feet.”

Sam punched him in the shoulder while Danny laughed.

“He’s right, though,” Sam said. “You always look exhausted, but this is a bit much, even for you.”

Danny groaned exasperatedly. “Tell that to the ghosts that keep floating by my bedroom window,” he said.

“What was it last night?” Tucker asked. 

“After Johnny? A fucking ectopus,” Danny said, throwing his arms up in exasperation, nearly shrugging off Tucker’s arm. “I almost would have preferred Skulker again. At least then I’d have something to take my frustration out on,” he added in a low grumble.

“With how tired you are, I don’t think fighting Skulker is the best idea right now,” Sam said. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. We heading to FentonWorks?”

“Please no,” Danny said a little too quickly. “My parents are still fixing the lab wall. I don’t think I could sleep through that racket if I tried.”

Tucker snorted. “Still? Hasn’t it been like a week?”

“Five days. Five miserable, loud days. Were you not reading my texts? Did I not complain enough?”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “In my defense, you didn’t update us on the lab wall fiasco over the weekend, so I assumed it was over.”

“I’m sorry if I was a little too busy complaining about the trio of dumbasses that is Skulker, Technus, and Johnny.  I’ll try to squeeze in loud Fenton bullshit hours next time.”

“See that you do,” Tucker said, nodding sagely.

Danny snorted, waving his arm to slap at him.

“So, where we going then?” Sam pressed. “I don’t know about you two, but I want to get out of this heat.”

They hadn’t made it very far from the school. With Danny leaning into Tucker, and no clear destination decided, they’d stopped at the corner.

Tucker made a thoughtful humming sound. “How about my place? My mom’s working and my dad shouldn’t bug us. Danny can take a nap while we play games or something.”

“Yeah, sure. Better than standing out here all day,” Sam said with a shrug.

“You’re going to play games without me?” Danny whined, doing his best attempt at puppy dog eyes (the effect probably ruined, at least somewhat, by how squinted they were).

“Yep,” Sam said, popping the ‘p’. She gave him a once-over with her arms crossed, her smile twisting into a concerned frown.

“Go transform and I’ll carry you,” she offered.

Danny perked up immediately, throwing Tucker’s arm off his shoulder. He glanced around quickly to make sure there was no one watching before darting into the tall bushes nearby. He heard Sam mutter, “That woke him up a little,” as he transformed.

As soon as the cold rings washed over him, Danny felt for his invisibility, letting it wash over in the same way. Floating back over to Sam and Tucker, he gave a quiet, “Here,” to let Sam know where he was before settling across the tops of her shoulders and spider backpack like a very large snake.

He let his spectral tail hang down one side of her neck and his arm down the other. He nestled his head on her shoulder and sighed happily. Thankfully, Danny was light enough in this form for Sam to carry him without issue.

“Just stay awake long enough for us to get to Tuck’s house. If you turn visible on me in the middle of the street, I will personally soup you,” she whispered.

“Noted.”

Danny put every last ounce of his energy into keeping his eyelids open on the walk to Tucker’s house. The gentle sway of Sam walking, paired with the heat, made for a sleepy combination. By the time they stepped over the threshold of Tucker’s house, blissfully welcomed by air conditioning, Danny had finally lost the battle against his eyelids. 

He heard Tucker gasp loudly, hissing out a frightened, “Danny!” before he felt– and heard– Sam thunder up the steps to Tucker’s bedroom. Danny opened his eyes in time to watch Tucker slam the door behind him, turning the lock.

“That was a close one,” Tucker said, pressing his ear expectantly to the door, his red beanie askew. “I think my dad’s outside– otherwise he might’ve seen the ghost who was supposed to stay invisible.”

“‘M sorry,” Danny mumbled, shutting his eyes again.

Sam sighed. Danny felt her pivot and heard her boots take a couple of steps on the wooden floor. 

“You’re hopeless when you’re tired,” she said. “How have you kept your secret this long?”

“Talent,” Danny mumbled into her shoulder.

Sam snorted. Her shoulders rose and Danny felt her hands grab him under the armpits. He kept his eyes closed, expecting her to flop him onto Tucker’s bed, but was surprised when he felt himself land inside something.

Tucker began to cackle, his laughter quickly devolving into wheezes. Danny opened his eyes and came face to face with– 

Cardboard. He was inside a box. 

Groaning, Danny rolled onto his back, brushing his white bangs out of his eyes. His tail fell the rest of the way into the box with him, curled over his stomach.

“Sam. Why am I in a box?” he asked,

It was a pretty big box, though Danny wasn’t sure why Tucker had it. Judging by the give in the bottom, it was sitting on his bed. Danny couldn’t stretch out his arms inside the thing, but he could curl up with some room to spare.

“I dunno. It just seemed funny,” Sam said, laughing. 

“What’s this thing even from?” Danny asked. “It’s a pretty nice box.”

Tucker’s face swam into view as he leaned over the box, still chuckling. He lifted his glasses, wiping away a tear.

“It’s from my new desk,” he said between chuckles. “I figured I’d keep it to store shit in. Think we could replace the thermos with one of these bad boys?”

“I want you to think for two seconds about Boxy before you seriously consider that statement,” Sam said.

Danny huffed a laugh. Rolling onto his side, he let his tail curl around him and pillowed his head on his arms. He felt the bed sink down a bit on one side and heard someone fumbling with what sounded like game controllers.

“Are you seriously comfortable in there?” Sam asked, her voice hovering just over his ear.

Danny hummed in response, nestling into his arms. It probably would be more comfortable on the bed, but he was already so tired, and the walls of the box made him feel strangely safe…

Sam laughed again, more quietly this time. He heard the telltale sounds of Tucker starting up Smash Bros., followed by him quickly lowering the volume. 

A hand fell into Danny's hair, gently scratching his scalp. In his sleepy, half-awake state, Danny was faintly aware of the contented rumble in his chest.

"Just like a cat," Danny heard Tucker snicker.

The noise of a cell phone camera going off followed.

It was the last thing Danny heard, other than the distant sounds of their game, before he fell into a fitful sleep.

~*~

Danny's mind was sluggish as he woke. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the familiar stars on his ceiling, but was surprised to see a dark room with a spinning ceiling fan instead.

Turning on his side, Danny noticed short walls surrounding him. He panicked for a moment, thinking he was trapped, before remembering he'd fallen asleep in…

A box.

A box, of all things.

Danny was still in his ghost form, and in the dark he could see that part of the box was dented. Danny could only assume he’d crushed it in his sleep. Coiling up on his tail, slipping out of a blanket Sam or Tucker must’ve thrown over him, Danny rose up like a cobra and glanced around Tucker’s bedroom. He couldn't tell what time it was, though it must’ve been well past sunset, judging by the darkness. 

Sam was nowhere to be seen, but Tucker was curled up in bed, fast asleep. At least, he was asleep– until Danny leaned too heavily on the box and it tore down the side, causing him to tumble forward and land on his friend’s legs.

Startling awake, Tucker quickly sat up, pulling his legs to his chest.

“Wha– Danny? You good?” he groggily asked, stifling a yawn.

Danny yawned as well, still feeling rather tired despite what must have been several hours of rest.

“I feel a bit better,” he said. “How long was I out? What time is it? Where’s Sam?”

Tucker rolled on his side and groped a hand across his nightstand, grabbing his glasses and phone. Both of them squinted as the phone powered on, singing their retinas with its sudden light.

“It’s almost eleven, so uhhh… seven hours or so? Sam left hours ago.”

“Ancients…” Danny muttered, rubbing his tired eyes.

A sobering thought suddenly came to mind.

“Wait, shit, I should get home, I–”

“Already taken care of,” Tucker said, yawning again. “As far as your parents are concerned, you’re sleeping over tonight. My parents don’t know, though, so try to keep it down.”

He gave a cheeky grin and Danny felt his anxiety melt away with it.

“So, are you going to keep sleeping in my box– which you totally destroyed, by the way– or do you want to actually use the bed?”

Danny glanced down at the cardboard under him. The box had certainly seen better days. It had been surprisingly comfortable while it lasted, at least.

“Bed sounds good,” Danny said wearily. “I can’t believe you let me sleep in a box.”

Tucker just laughed at that.

Danny crawled across the bed to the side closest to the wall. Tucker lifted his blanket and Danny phased his way under it. He settled down, burying his face in one of Tucker’s many pillows.

“Am I too cold like this?” he asked, his voice muffled by the pillow. “I can transform if you want.”

Danny was getting considerably better at controlling his powers. Aside from being able to maintain his form while unconscious now, he also had significantly more control over his temperature. He couldn’t necessarily make himself warm as Phantom, but he could decrease the chill he put off.

Sleeping as a ghost appealed to Danny– seeing as it meant he wouldn’t have to take off his binder– but he would transform for Tucker’s comfort if not his own. 

Tucker hummed thoughtfully. “Naw, you’re good. Just let me turn off the ceiling fan.”

He reached for something else on his nightstand, producing a tiny remote. It shut off the fan and Danny watched as the blades slowly ground to a halt.

Tucker settled back into bed, taking off his glasses, carding a hand through his curly bangs. He let loose another yawn and rolled over to look at Danny.

“You’re not hungry or anything are you? You did sleep most of the day,” he said.

Danny shook his head. He never had much of an appetite since the Accident. Sam suspected it had something to do with all of the ambient ectoplasm in Amity. 

“Just tired still,” he said. “Thanks for letting me sleep for so long, by the way.”

Tucker hummed, shutting his eyes. “You needed it,” he mumbled.

Danny certainly agreed. Those seven hours of sleep had helped, but he still felt pretty exhausted. Not every week of fighting ghosts was like this, but the ones that were dragged him down. He was only thankful for no major injuries this time around.

Snuggling deeper under the blanket, Danny wiggled his way closer to Tucker, burying his head under his friend’s chin. Tucker shifted, lifting his arm over Danny in a practiced manner, draping it over his shoulders. 

Listening to the rhythmic sound of Tucker’s breathing and the steady beat of his heart, Danny quickly found himself falling into a restful sleep. 

“G’nigh,” Tucker mumbled, hardly coherent.

Danny’s core rumbled contently in response.

~*~

Danny awoke the next day feeling, at last, actually awake. After changing into some clothes Tucker kept at his house for him, Danny slipped out of Tucker’s bedroom window and waited outside to give him a lift to school. 

He didn’t manage to replace his book bag, but dealing with the broken zipper felt considerably more manageable when well-rested. 

They met up with Sam in the hall as usual, and there was something in her grin that had him feeling nervous.

“What did you do?” Danny warily asked her.

Sam’s grin widened. She leaned against her locker, flicking through something on her phone.

“Oh, you know… just thinking about photography,” she said.

Danny paused, trying to parse out whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. Then, with dawning horror, he remembered hearing the sound of a phone camera the night before.

“You didn’t,” he said, standing up straight, eyes narrowed at Sam.

“Oh, I did.”

She tapped something on her phone and turned the screen towards him. On it was a picture of Phantom, curled up inside of a box with his tail tucked around his messy white hair.

Danny quickly made to grab for the phone, but Sam held it up high, far out of his short reach.

“Tucker has copies too, so don’t you dare,” she said with a laugh.

Danny grabbed at her shoulders, shaking her lightly. “Sam, please tell me you didn’t post that anywhere,” he said, practically begging.

Sam waved her hand dismissively. “Why post it when we can keep it all to ourselves?” she said.

“And when we can threaten to post it the next time you spill one of those ectoplasm shakes on–” 

“That was one time!” Danny interrupted Tucker with a whine.

“I can see the meme caption now,” Tucker continued dramatically, ignoring Danny’s interjection, “‘The New Box Ghost’!”

Sam snorted with laughter while Danny continued to groan, making one last, futile grab for her phone.

[violettduchess]

A/N: Since I was not able to complete all the fic requests for the Fall Fluff Autumn Angst Content Creation Challenge, I thought I could still do the ones I had left as headcanons 🌟

I did them for Ikepri here, now its time for vamp!

Napoleon, Mozart, Leonardo x reader

Word Count: 1853

Ikemen Vampire Fall Fluff Headcanons 🍂

Napoleon - Hot Apple Cider 🍎

It is the middle of the night, an hour when everyone should be warm and snug in their beds, lost in the garden of their dreams. You should also be curled against the warm body of the man you love but said body is….not there. Your stretched out hand searches the bed but finds nothing. You wiggle closer to his side, still feeling around and still all you touch are cool, empty sheets. With a groan, you push yourself up, rubbing sleepily at your eyes. Napoleon is not in bed and you know exactly where he is.

When the kitchen door opens, you are greeted by the heavenly scent of warm apple cider. Allspice and cinnamon drift dreamily up from the pot that the man you love is stirring. He glances at you over his shoulder with a sheepish grin on his handsome face.

“I couldn’t help it, Nunuche. I had to.” The conversation you had in this very kitchen, not six hours ago, replays itself in your mind. He was determined to treat everyone to hot apple cider tomorrow. But as he made it, something……something was missing. And despite your insistence that it was perfect, you knew by the glint in those eyes, bright as peacock feathers, that he didn’t agree. And because he is who he is, wanting to do his absolute best at anything he undertakes, he snuck back to the kitchen to make it just right.

You sigh, the sound warm with equal parts affection and exasperation as you walk over to him, sliding one arm around his waist as you eye the dark orange liquid. “And?”

His smile could illuminate the darkest of nights as he reaches for another, smaller spoon and carefully dips it into the cider. He raises it to his lips, blowing softly until he is certain it won’t be too hot for you to sip and then leans close. You drink the warm cider from the spoon and the expression on your face tells him he was right.

“That….is amazing. Even better than earlier. What did you add?” When he holds up the small bowl with the magic ingredient, you don’t recognize it until you bring it closer to your nose. “Cardamom?” He nods, pleased you recognized it. “Oui. Now it is perfect.”

You slide your arms around his waist, expression soft. “Does this mean you are now coming to bed?” You reach up, running a hand over the soft strands of his hair. Napoleon wraps his arms around you, nodding as he drops a gentle kiss to your lips. “I will clean up here,” he murmurs, his voice soft and alluring, “And then….” He kisses you once more. “Nothing…..” Another kiss, this time one that lingers, full of tantalizing promise, “Absolutely nothing will stand in the way of my joining you.”

Mozart - Hot Apple Cider 🍎

The wet, chill fall weather has struck again, making you late to dinner. You had stepped out of the mansion to run an errand, but just before you left the bookstore, the gray clouds decided it was the perfect time to unleash a cold, lashing rain that would have had you soaked to the skin within minutes of walking through it.

Sebastian meets you at the door, taking your hurried explanation with a head shake and a smile. He helps you out of your coat and then directs you to the dining room where several of the men are gathered, playing cards. 

What greets you is the following scene: Arthur, Theodorus, Napoleon and Dazai playing some card game that moves too fast for you and has them all intently focused. Leonardo is literally asleep in the corner of the room, not bothered by the light or the noise. And there at the end of the table is Mozart, watching the others with a smile on his face, cheeks flushed. When he spots you, he beams. You know that face, that look in his eyes.

“Hallo, meine Liebe! I have missed you so.” He makes this announcement in a very loud, very not-sober Mozart voice and you put a hand on your hip as you saunter over to the card sharks. “Ok who did this?” You gesture to the man you love and the smile still plastered on his face. Arthur shakes his head, blue eyes bright as summer. “I swear, luv, I had nothing to do with it!” Theo looks annoyed you’ve interrupted their game. But Dazai’s golden eyes are bright as coins. Suspiciously so. “Dazai……” And then you notice all the mugs of cider. You glance at Mozart who is indeed drinking the last drops from his and already reaching for the jug with more. 

You quickly go to him, gently taking the mug from his hand, lifting it to your nose before you set it back down on the table. He blinks his beautiful violet eyes at you. “I’m thirsty.” You wrap your arm around his narrow waist, giving him a placating smile. “We can drink something upstairs. Come.” Mozart is not used to alcohol and you know if he keeps drinking, he will be cursing the cider, and Dazai’s generous and likely sneaky addition of bourbon. Together you navigate the steps and hallway until you reach his bedroom.

He humors you, allowing you to help him out of his waistcoat and vest. Your fingers undo the soft cravat at his throat. You’re about to suggest he lay down when his hands come up, catching yours. The spiked cider has melted any sign of his usually icy facade, any cool awkwardness he may still struggle with when he is alone with you. Now his expression is warm, inviting. His pale skin is flush with color, his eyes brilliant amethysts caught in sunlight. “I missed you,” he says simply, honestly. 

Those words are rays of sunshine, warming you as you squeeze his hands in response. “I’m here now.” He smiles earnestly and some part of you thinks it is for the best he doesn’t smile at you like this often. You would never be able to leave his side if he did. “Come,” you say for the second time that night. And this time you fall onto his soft bed together, Mozart’s arms wrapped around you. As his mouth finds yours and you taste the lingering flavor of apple cider on his lips and tongue, a small part of you smiles. You’ll have to tell Napoleon how good it tastes.

…….in the morning.

Leonardo - Cozy Sweater 🧶

Leonardo walks into his own bedroom with no idea what is awaiting him. You’re standing in the middle of the room, half undressed. He blinks, taking in the sight of you in your long skirts and only your thin chemise on top. “If I had known you were waiting…like this…, I would have come much sooner.” 

The expression on your face shrivels all the sensual ideas in his head before they even have a chance to blossom. You look….miserable. “Cara mia,” he says, voice now colored with concern as he reaches you, one warm hand touching the bare skin of your upper arm. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s silly….” but he can see it is anything but. “Tell me,” he says encouragingly, still rubbing your bare skin. You sigh, making a gesture toward the bed where he notices the soft, caramel-colored sweater you love wearing. “I was helping Sebastian trim some of the hedges and…” You walk over, lifting the sweater from the bed and offer it to him. He sees the problem. Along the shoulder, there is an ugly, jagged tear, right along the seam. He can also see that you have tried to mend it yourself, but the material is very tricky. It’s a stretchy, knit fabric. One that made it a very comfortable sweater and unfortunately, very difficult to fix.

You shake your head. “I tried to fix it but pulling or tugging causes it to keep puckering and it also just keeps clumping up where I need it to lay flat and why didn’t I think to change before going outside?” You look crestfallen and it tugs on his heartstrings, awakening the burning need to make you smile again. “Should I go and take a sword to the evil hedge that attacked you? Make it pay for what it has done?”

That gets a laugh. It’s a small one but it still counts. You sigh, turning away from him and open the wardrobe, reaching for a dark red blouse. He comes over, taking over the buttoning for you and then cups your face in his hand. “I’m sorry, tesoro.” You offer him a shrug and a small smile, half as bright as usual. “Thank you. Now I have to get over this and go with Sebastian and do the grocery shopping for this week. I’ll see you later.” You kiss him, a soft thank you on the plane of his cheek, and head out. It seems like such a small thing to be upset about, but it would be a lie if you tried to pretend you weren’t.

A few hours later, you make your way up the stairs toward the bedrooms, feeling better. The food stalls and vendors had helped you forget your torn sweater, distracting you with their vibrant wares and charming stories. You open the door to Leonardo’s bedroom, fully expecting to find him catnapping on the bed. He isn’t there, but what you find stops you in your tracks. Your sweater, your beautiful, soft, cozy sweater is folded neatly on the bed. You make your way over, lifting it up, your motion slow with the weight of shock. Sure enough, the ugly tear in the shoulder has been expertly mended.

“Welcome back.” You turn to find him leaning against the doorframe, his mouth curved in a satisfied grin. You look back down at the sweater. The kind of double stitching he did you’ve only ever seen done by a sewing machine, which certainly does not exist. “How….did you did this?” He offers you a nonchalant shrug. “You know me, cara mia. I sleep and I fix things. It’s what I do.”

You carefully set the sweater down on the desk chair, keeping it off the bed, before you cross the room to where he is standing. The look on your face has him straightening up, reaching back to close the door behind him, his own grin slowly growing. You lean against him, stretching up to lock your hands behind his neck as he slides his hands down over your hips. Oh he likes where this is going.

“So my knight in shining armor lifted a sewing needle instead of a sword and saved the day,” you murmur, your gaze bright and inviting. “How ever can I repay you for your kindness, cavaliere?” The Italian word for ‘knight’ falling from your lips nearly sends him over the edge of reason right then and there. 

“I have a few ideas,” he answers, voice husky with anticipation. And then he has you in his arms, his kiss claiming you as wholly and utterly his.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @ariamichel @kpop-and-otome

[burnedwriter]

how they are in a relationship pt1

A/n:this is pt1 out of 2,it might take me awhile for pt2 since im working on a alfred x hunter!reader and the choir x hunter!reader,if you want to see specific characters for pt 2 dont hesitate to interact with this post!

warning:smut starts at the second half,Fluff,mention of rough sex,Overstimulation,Edging,Teasing,dirty talking,mention of biting and choking,mention of typical violence on alfred’s part,!gender-neutral reader.

laurence

hes sweet yet secretive,i feel like he will keep the whole beast situation a secret since he doesnt want to get his s/o involved in this mess,until you find him crying  while writing in his notes and confesses everything to you.

hes not a major fan of pda outdoors but mostly indoors,when the two of you are together outdoors he will have a hand wrapped around your waist,showing in a subtle way who you belong to and stop any unwanted advances.

laurence writes romantic poems about you and how beautiful you are and sending them as gifts,you have gathered so many you had to store them in a chest.

ludwig

the best out of everyone on this list probably.hes an absolute sweetheart,a gentle giant,that has sworn to protect you at all cost.It was the promise he made to you the day you officially became a couple.

He loves showing you affetion no mattter where you two are.He will always give you a kiss before he leaves just in case he doesnt come back just so you know he always loved you even in death,ludwig’s kisses range from forehead to him kissing your hand gently.

Before the severe beast outbreak you too would go late night horse backriding,to blow some steam off of your everyday struggles,you would rest your head on his back while you wrap your arms around his shoulder into a hug while you chat making the moment even more intimate.

micolash

library dates?talking about kos to the wee hours the answer is yes

hes not the type to take you out on romantic dates since he has no social skills without making himself look weird,his ideal date is studying in the library or just you keeping him company while he does his reasearch.

i feel like he would leave flowers as bookmarks,like one day you will open your book and see a small flower sticking out from the top and with a micolash taking small glimpses at you to see how you reacted.

hes super clingy and he will be on you like a leech,have fun trying to get him off of you.

simon

hes not completly extroverted so it took him a long time to approach you and tell you that he likes you.

really romantic and cheesy,he is the type of guy who will try to suprise you with flowers but ultimatly failing as the flowers are visible from behind his back but also says cheesy jokes to you that are horrendously bad.

leaves you in the dark about what hes doing since he doesnt want you to become a target like he is.Also most people dont even know that he has an s/o.

djura

one qualification that his s/o must have is to be nice and take care of the beasts just like he does.Thats how you two met,seeing you pass from old yharnam,he was ready to shoot you with his gatling gun when he realized you werent killing them.

Finally reaching the tower and starting a peaceful conversation with him,he decided to recruite you to his little team and after that the both of you started to get close as you spend many nights on the tower.

unlike his tough appearance you got to learn that djura is actually sweet and very caring towards his partner,he is not afraid to show you affection no matter where he is.

brador

Hes very overprotective over his s/o and doesnt want them to get involved with anything that might force him to kill you.

just like simon nobody actually knows that brador has an s/o, as a matter of fact nobody actually knows anything about brador’s private life unlike other church members lives.

He might not show you affection at first or any vulnurebility almost like hes testing you to see if you are up to something.The same goes for public too but after trusting you he will become puddy in your hands something that you are only able to see.

Alfred

Alfred radietes golden retriever energy and  will treat you like royalty.hes also very romantic giving you flowers and little gifts when he comes back home

he loves showing affection to his s/o no matter where he is! his bear hugs are the best.

he also has sworn his s/o but unlike ludwig,Alfred has the knight in shining armor complex and will kill anyone that has caused any harm to his s/o and come back like nothing happened but his smiley always gives it away.

nsfw

laurence

laurence is dominant in the bedroom,i see him as more of a pleasure dom than anything else,putting your pleasure over his,guiding you with a commanding yet calm voice,making them reach their climax.

hes quite the dirty talker but only when necessery, using it to add to the pleasure of his partner.

He loves overstimulation,seeing your face with seer pleasure as you beg him for more always brings a smile to his face.

ludwig

ludwig is a gentle dom,he will take things slow, he will never be rough to you unless you ask him to.

a body worshipper,he will kiss every inch of your body and shower you with compliments and tell you how well you are doing.

Not very fond of dirty talk unlike the other people on this list,he prefers complimenting you more since he doesnt like degrading his partner.

Micolash

Hes a switch but  a buttom most of the times.he likes getting commanded around or you giving him instruction of what you want him or where to touch you

Expect a lot of experimentation and trying out new ‘’things’’,basicly a freak as someone would describe him.

he will implement dirty talk to his teasing just to see how your body reacts and to push your buttons to be rougher with him. He practicly tolerates anything in the book:biting,choking him etc.

simon

hes a switch but mostly a dom.hes more into gentle sex than anything else.

just like micolash he loves teasing you but not to the point that willl piss you off.

he loves overstimulation but with a twist.....he will edge you over and over again as his whispers the dirtiest things in your ear before he overstimulates you to the point where your whole body is shaking and his words are circling around your foggy mind.

Djura

it’s not unusual for him and you to have outdoors sex on the tower late at night.

Djura is switch ,i believe after so much commanding he wants someone else to take control.

Overall pretty vanilla and kinda hesitant to try new things but eventually warm up to it after a lot of convicing

Brador

hes a dom but unlike the others hes rough with you showing you no remorse until all of yarhnam will hear you scream his name.

hes also one that wants to try new things and spice things up in the bedroom and with that being said....

he enjoys some outdoors sex pulling you into an alleyway,seeing you struggle and trying your best to keep quiet so the both of you dont get caught while he chuckles in your ear at your struggle,he likes the thrill of almost being caught,kinky bastard.

Alfred

Alfred is a switch ,if hes buttoming,hes a power buttom and in that case he like placing his strong hands on your hips while you ride him.

Also someone who will worship your body and cover your body in kisses but unlike ludwig he enjoys dirty talk and seeing how you react to it.

he wants to hear you moan ,it’s like music to his ears as he says adding to his already inflated ego

[littlemissnoname13]

hi could you please make a part two to feeling colors, i LOVED your writing in it. no rush :))

Hiii nonnie! 💕 I did end up writing a second part for the fic after all. I hope you like it as much as the first. X

Feeling Colours - Part Two

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Word count: 2500 give or take

Summary: Draco’s feelings for the reader start to grow

Warnings: fluff, excessive drinking, mentions of throwing up, kissing, nothing explicit, Draco being a softie (lmk if this needs more warnings)

Masterlist | Part One 

Your eyes fluttered open to find Draco Malfoy sitting on a chair next to you, breathing quietly like sleep was finally hitting him. Ruffled blond strands of hair fell over his weary eyes and he’d used his suit jacket as a makeshift blanket. 

Your first instinct was to silently lift up your covers and check if your clothes were still intact and thank Merlin they were. 

“Have a little faith Y/n.” Draco grumbled, startling you in the process as he struggled to lift himself into a more comfortable position. “I would never take advantage of a drunk girl.”

Fragments of the previous night came back to you when you heard him say that. 

The party, the burn of the booze, the dust-filled broom closet, the throwing up, the taste of soup and the strong and sturdy arms of the boy now looking at you with a sheepish grin on his face.

You eased at the sight of his smile. There came a certain type of comfort after someone had seen you throwing your guts up. 

“Thank you for last night Draco.”

“Like I said before Miss raging alcoholic, Don’t make a habit of it.” He let out a small yawn and started to smooth out his hair but much to his dismay, the strands refused to cooperate. 

You couldn't help but laugh at the displeased look on his face. “Here, let me—”

“NO. I absolutely refuse to let you touch my hair.” He protested, grabbing both your wrists before your fingers could make contact with his precious hair. 

“Come on Malfoy.” You pleaded, now fully out of bed and trying to break free from his hands. “I swear I can fix it for you.”

“Nope.” He said firmly as he tried his hardest to maintain a straight face. “Stop it—No please not the sides—no..”

“Please, just a bit more...ah okay….there we go.”

“Haven’t you done enough Hufflepuff?!”

“Oh. that rhymed.” You laughed, still touching his hair when the two of you accidently tumbled onto the chair he was originally sleeping on. 

Draco was agile in cushioning your fall with one of his hands balancing himself on the armrest and one hand wrapped around your waist.

It was only the second time he’d saved you from falling and you were already getting used to it. 

Something inside of you was immediately hoping that Draco would be there to break your fall for a third time too. 

It felt good with him.

It felt safe with him.

~~~

Alone at the school courtyard in the afternoon of the next day, Draco sat down in a far corner to rearrange his cluttered thoughts about you into tidy little compartments in his brain. 

It should have been easy for him. He was a natural occlumens after all.

But for some bizarre reason, he couldn't find a way to erase your name, the sound of your voice and your scent that was slowly dominating all four lobes of his brain and all four chambers of his heart. 

Even with the sun still in the sky, the occasional gust of wind made his hands turn cold so he instinctively shoved his hands into his blazer pocket to warm up. 

It was only then that he realised that he’d completely forgotten to give your locket back to you. 

~~~

A few days had now passed and Draco had gotten several opportunities to give your necklace back to you. 

First it was at the great hall.

He watched you intently from the Slytherin table, waiting for the perfect opportunity to talk to you while you nibbled on a cupcake.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he watched you lick the powdery pink frosting off your Peony lips.

He wasn’t all that fond of those cupcakes you were eating but he’d have done anything for a taste of the frosting from your lips. 

Before he could even manage to walk over to you, you stood up and walked away with your friends.

When you were close to the exit however, you paused and turned towards the Slytherin table to give him a tiny smile.

He quickly reached into his pocket to look at the locket, it was the exact pink shade of the frosting. 

~~~

The second time he tried to return it was at Potions class. 

Theo had so graciously agreed to switch partners with Draco and Snape did not seem to mind as long as the potions were brewed right. 

“Crush the petals as best you can before dropping them into the cauldron.” Snape instructed and you quickly grabbed a fistfull of rose petals. 

Draco watched in awe as you crushed rose petals in your hands, releasing the floral aroma into the atmosphere. The scent caught onto clothes and a flush crept onto his face.

“Well, are you going to help me, Malfoy?”

Draco silently copied your motion and stirred the cauldron till the potion was simmering and ready.

Returning your locket in the middle of Severus’s class did not seem like a smart idea so he decided to come up with a better one. 

“We are having another party in the dungeons on Friday. You should come and bring Abott if you’d like.”  Draco shrugged it off like it was the most casual thing ever. 

“Will there be elf made wine?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him and he let out a rather loud scoff earning the attention of the sulky potion’s master.

“Malfoy, Y/l/n.” Snape called out, looking as unimpressed as ever. “Detention.Saturday.”

“Incorrigible.” Draco muttered and you nudged him in the rib with your elbow. 

“Two Saturdays.” Snape said, before dismissing the entire class. 

On his way out, Draco discreetly sneaked a peak of the necklace in his pocket because he already knew what colour it was going to be. 

It was the exact same pink of the rose petals you were crushing. 

~~~

Two days had gone by since potions class and Draco was no longer fazed when the necklace emulated the same shades of pink from the bubblegum you were blowing or the fuschia ribbon in your hair. 

Draco also didn’t think it was necessary to make another attempt to return your necklace until Friday.

He already had a lot of things preoccupying his mind like actually planning the party. 

There had been no Slytherin Party planned for Friday before Draco invited you and now, He was getting his friends to help him arrange one. 

Crabbe and Goyle were tasked with getting more liquor,  Blaise and Theo were responsible for music and food while Draco was responsible with the overall logistics like silencing charms and getting the word of the party out. 

“All this for a girl.” Blaise mocked. Theo took this moment to whisper something to Crabbe who then whispered something to Goyle. 

“Care to say it out loud, Nott?” Draco seethed as he watched his friends clutch their stomachs and laugh out loud. 

“Theo called you a simp.” A teary eyed Goyle spluttered. 

“A what now?”

~~~

Friday’s party topped the previous one. 

More people, A wider selection of liquor, wine varietals, good food and music blasting so loud that the floors were vibrating. 

As per usual, Hannah had already disappeared into some dark little corner with her paramour leaving you all alone with a group of Slytherin girls. 

“I love your dress!” Exclaimed a tipsy looking Daphne Greengrass who herself was wearing a gorgeous turquoise number. 

“Thank you.” You replied, giving her your most polite and friendly smile. 

“Come now, let's go and dance already.” Pansy crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at the interaction. Although it wasn’t super obvious, you sensed that Pansy wasn’t too pleased to have you there. 

Daphne intertwined her hands to yours and pulled you into the dancefloor with herself, Pansy Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode. 

Daphne’s surprisingly amiable nature took you by surprise but you decided to go with it. It was a party after all. 

When she placed her hands on your shoulders, you mirrored. When she swayed her hips, so did you. 

“He can't stop staring at you now, can he?” Daphne shouted into your ear over the music as you both continued to dance together. 

“I’m sorry who?” You shouted back. 

“Malfoy.” Daphne giggled. “ He’s been watching you all night actually. Why do you think he hosted this party in the first place?”

You stole a quick glance at Draco when no one was looking. He was sipping on a glass of whisky and watching you from a distance.

He had ditched his all black attire for a white button down shirt. The top two buttons were undone and his hair had a sort of laid back look to it

“See?” Daphne shouted again. “Hasn’t even taken his eyes off you once. It's driving Pansy nuts.”

Just to confirm if Daphne was in fact telling the truth, you tilted your head to the side to get a bitter view of him and the minute you did, your eyes met with his.

Heat spread all across your cheeks and he raised his glass to you as an acknowledgement before quickly turning away. 

After that, it was just an intense and tactical little gambit of who caught who staring. 

He covertly watched you sway your hips and you secretly noticed the way he tapped his fingertips on the glass he was holding.

Both of you refused to relent to whatever game this was up until the point where he grabbed a bottle of fire whisky and started to walk away. 

You didn't even need to think twice about where he was headed. 

“Go on.” Daphne nudged encouragingly.

~~~

Draco pulled the closet door open and stepped inside with a smile playing at his lips.

The last time he was there, he was introduced to you, your scent, your smile, your eyes. 

Before that night in the closet, he took colours at their face value. They were nothing more than visual representations of light—what amount, what hue, what saturation.

It was strange how things had changed for him. 

Not only did you make him see colours in a whole new light, you made him feel them, you made him hear them.

As Draco settled down with his drink, he saw the door creak open. 

It was still dark but he could already tell that it was you by the scent of your perfume. Oh, he could never ever forget that aroma even if he tried. 

Lumos. 

Draco held his wand in front of him and allowed himself to turn to his side to get a better view of you. 

Never had he ever seen someone glow the way you did under the lumos charm. The radiance in your eyes, the pearlescence of your skin and the curvature of your lips made him lightheaded.

“I feel like this closet is going to be a recurring thing for us huh?” You beamed at him and he found himself swooning. 

Salazar Slytherin. Nott was right. He was a simp.

“I guess so.” Draco quickly answered, Blaming this dizziness on the lack of ventilation while taking a big sip of his drink. 

“I don’t mind.” You said and twisted open the bottle of wine you’d brought with you. 

“Don’t tell me you brought another bottle of that god awful wine in here.”

 “It’s actually not that bad and it gets you drunk way quicker.” You shrugged. 

“Why do I feel like I might have to walk you to your dorm again?” 

He watched you take a long slow sip of wine and couldn’t help himself from noting that your lips were slowly getting stained red with the fruity nectar. 

“Might?” You shook your head. “Sorry to break it to you, but this wine is going to catch up with me soon.” 

Draco jokingly palmed his face, earning a laugh from you. It seemed like the perfect time to hand you your lost possession back. 

“Atleast, I’ll know when you are going to be sick though.” Draco said as he fished for the locket in his pocket. 

“How come?” 

“Because of this.” He explained, holding the necklace out. “I’m sorry I should have given it back sooner.” 

“That’s okay.” You murmured softly and pushed your hair away from your neck and he instantly took this as a cue to drape the necklace back to where it belonged. 

“Ah…there you go.” He whispered into your ear before shifting back to look at the gem. 

Draco expected it to be pink but to his astonishment, the gem had already turned a vibrant red. 

A new colour.

He could see red in the apples of your cheeks.

He could feel red pumping through his veins and hear red in the way his heart was rapidly beating. 

 “It’s red.” You commented and he slowly nodded. 

Even though he knew what red was for him, he needed to hear your interpretation before making his next move. 

“What does red mean to you y/n?” 

“To me, well…..red represents um..passion, something fiery, something that burns bright, leaves you breathless.” You whispered looking as if you were feeling almost as breathless as him. 

Draco swallowed hard when he noticed just how close your face was to his. 

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?” 

“If I kissed you right now, would you kiss me back?”

He noticed that your breathing was progressively getting shorter. You looked startled at his sudden question but held his gaze nonetheless. 

“I guess you’ll have to see for yourself, Draco.”

He couldn’t help but let out a hoarse chuckle before pressing his forehead to yours. “Is that an invitation hm?” 

You didn’t say a word but the deepening red color of your necklace gave everything away. 

Any remaining doubt in his mind went away when he felt you caress his cheeks with your cold hands. 

He gently let his fingers slip into your hair as he closed the distance between your lips. 

The kiss was reminiscent of the rush of first love. The innocence, the giggles. 

The kiss paid homage that perfumed night in the broom closet that had started it all. 

The kiss was bleeding, seeping, trickling In various shades of red and he was drinking every drop. 

Draco Malfoy could finally tell what the colour red tasted like. 

It tasted like your wine stained lips. 

He backed away and placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head and you gave him a shy smile in return. 

~~~

The two of you spent the remainder of the party inside the closet. 

Drinking, talking, laughing and more kissing.

So much kissing. 

“Alright y/n, let’s get you to your room now shall we?” Draco sighed when he noticed that you were getting more and more inebriated by the minute. “Come on.” 

You struggled to step out of the closet and almost tripped on your own two drunken feet.

Almost. 

“As if I’m going to let you fall face first.” He mumbled to himself before lifting you up in his arms. 

You let out a small laugh before looking up at him. 

“Draco?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you said to not make a habit of this but unfortunately for you, I already have.” 

FIN. 

~~~

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Join my tag list here .

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Love,

vi

[scuttling]

Long Time Coming

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,664 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, Reader has a few one night stands, Semi-public sex, Unprotected sex, Blow jobs/Face fucking, Hairpulling, Fingering, Praise and degradation, Dirty talk, Accidental reveal of feelings, TW blood/cut Summary: You have been in lust (and love) with Aaron for a while, but his new look sends you off the deep end, and it's enough to make you do some pretty crazy things. *Inspired by @ssamorganhotchner and these three pics. Link to A03 or read below! You are fresh off yet another unsuccessful first date when Aaron wears the new suit. You, Emily, JJ, and Penelope are standing by the coffee maker, complaining about the pitfalls of online dating and how people are never they way they seem when you actually meet in person; you have the carafe in your hand, filling your mug, and when he walks in, face in a case file, his pants so tight you can make out his hips and thighs as clearly as if he were naked… You kind of lose your shit. And your grip.

The carafe shatters when it hits the tile floor, spraying shards of glass and hot coffee everywhere; Emily gasps, Penelope jumps back to avoid the splatter, JJ runs for a broom, and you just stand there, staring at Aaron—at his tight slacks, at his belt, at his shirt, tucked neatly inside, then at his dangling tie, and finally, his worried face.

“Are you alright?” he asks, because you have literally not moved a muscle since he arrived; your boots are covered in coffee—you are thankful you dressed casually today and aren’t wearing heels, or you’d be in a lot of pain—and your heart is racing, but otherwise you feel frozen, unable to move or look away.

You’ve wanted Aaron for a long time, and everyone knows it but him. It’s part of the reason you’re smothering yourself with online hookups and blind dates and one night stands: because he is off limits, and you’re desperately horny for him, and you need to have him fucked out of your mind one way or another.

The new suit further complicates things.

“Fine,” you say after a few more seconds, and JJ comes back with the broom and dustpan, so you bend down to help her clean up your mess. It wasn’t your brightest idea, because you are now at eye level with the tight crotch of his pants, and all you can think of is working the zipper open, pulling him carefully past the fly, sucking him off until those big hands slip into your hair and tug roughly when he comes.

God. You’re going to have to go on another bad date. Or ten.

“New suit?” Penelope asks conversationally, as if you aren’t having a sexual crisis about it three feet away. “Looks good, boss.” Aaron runs his hand down his body self-consciously, but all you see are thick fingers and stomach and hnnngg…

JJ pinches the back of your arm hard, makes a face that screams get it together!!, and you take a deep breath.

“I took some of my old ones in for alterations and the salesman convinced me they were severely outdated. Do you like this style better?”

For some reason, it feels like he’s looking right at you, and you nod, dreamy-eyed, sweep your tongue over your lips.

“Better,” you rasp, and Emily and Penelope agree, probably to take the emphasis off of your slack mouth and dopey one-word answers. You try to help JJ clean up, picking up the larger pieces of glass and dropping them into the dustpan despite her protests—because you are very unfocused, shouldn’t be messing with sharp objects—and when you cut your finger on a piece, she just sighs. Such a mom.

You wince, and Aaron frowns, comes toward you, putting you not only at dick height, but a manageable dick distance, if you were so inclined; really, it’s more if he were so inclined, because you are actually fully prepared to swallow his load right here in front of your friends—all he’d have to do would be snap his fingers and point to his crotch, and the FBI would be suing you for mental distress and using the money to pay for therapy for Emily, Penelope, and JJ.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” he says, snapping you out of your very elaborate fantasy (typically your fantasies don’t involve court costs, but this is Aaron, so anything is possible.) He wraps his hand around your injured finger and pulls you up to standing with the other, and you just follow along as he leads you over to the sink, turns on the tap to let the water run over your cut. The way you’re looking up at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen has to be painfully obvious, but he just reaches over for the first aid kit, takes out a bandage, and wraps it carefully around the tip of your finger. You sigh.

It may have started out as lust, but you’re pretty sure you’re also in love.

You have got to find a way to get him to notice you as more than just an agent, a teammate, a friend, and so: Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ begins. You fill the girls in on your master plan, and they fill in Derek and Spencer just so there are more people to laugh at you when you crash and burn, probably. But you’ve got a plan, will be pulling out all the stops, so you might not fail horribly after all. Hopefully.

God, you absolutely cannot fail. You can’t go out with another software engineer with the personality of a peanut or another investment banker who thinks buying you an appetizer means you owe him a blow job in the front seat of his Tesla. You will go fucking insane.

Today’s plan is T for tits, because yours are pretty awesome and almost no one who is attracted to women can resist them. You wear your usual white button down top, but you leave the top two buttons undone, and you add a red, lacy bra for a little additional temptation.

“Here are those consults you asked for,” you say after knocking lightly on the doorframe; Aaron waves you inside. You set them down on his desk, then glance over the open folder in front of him, make a curious noise. “What are you working on up here?”

You walk around his desk, so you’re standing next to him, and lean forward to look over the case file with one hand on the back of his chair and the other pressed against the desk. If he would look over, he would see right down your top, your breasts high and smushed together thanks to the lacy push up… but he looks straight down at the file, taps his pen against it.

“Murders in Detroit. I don’t think we’ll go—they look like mob hits to me, so I’m going to refer the case to Organized Crime.” You hum, turn the file toward you and lean in a little closer, letting your hair spill over your shoulder, the neck of your blouse fall open. Boobs and perfume are usually a one-two punch that is capable of bringing any man to his knees, and while he does turn to look at you, it feels entirely too respectful for your liking. You sigh softly, give up for today, and turn the file back.

“Well you know best, boss. Any time I don’t have to go to Detroit is alright by me.” You flash him a smile, and he reciprocates, and you head back downstairs for a cup of coffee and maybe a stale shame pastry.

The team looks up at you when you approach, and you shake your head.

“No luck,” you mutter, and Derek laughs, crosses his arms over his chest.

“Maybe you’re not very good at flirting. What did you do?” You roll your eyes—your flirting is not the problem, it’s Aaron’s morals and manners or whatever—and walk over to Spencer’s desk, demonstrate with him what you did to Aaron; you put your hand on the back of his chair, toss your hair over your shoulder, lean in, and Spencer swallows hard, licks his lips, and looks abruptly down at his hands. That reaction, you would have gladly taken.

Derek clears his throat, and so does Emily. Hmm.

“I’m good at flirting,” you say, straightening up; Spencer is blushing, and it’s super cute, so you pat him lightly on the head. “Maybe he’s an ass man. I’ll wear a skirt tomorrow and we’ll see if that gets the job done.”

“Good idea,” Derek says, and when you walk past him, he gives you a once over that makes you feel pretty damn good. “In the meantime, why don’t you come and demonstrate on me?”

There’s no denying he is one of the finest men you’ve ever seen in your life, and earlier on in your career you might have taken him up on it—it would have to be better than Marty McTesla, that’s a given—but you know he’s mostly teasing, even if there is a thin layer of actual desire beneath it all. You just fluff your hair and take your seat and mentally flip through your closet to try to come up with an outfit Aaron can’t refuse. You decide on a pencil skirt, because that’s got to be every boss's fantasy, right? You have one you never wear to the office because it’s a little sexy, tight on your hips and ass, with a zipper up the back that you can open a little and use to your advantage. When you walk into the bullpen that morning, JJ whistles, and you grin, do a little twirl.

“Thank you, thank you. This has to work, right?” You turn to face Emily, then turn away from Emily, butt right in her face. “Emily? This will work, right?”

“That’s... definitely going to work,” she murmurs, tapping the cap of her pen against her teeth, and you have to admit you have a good feeling about this one. For as great as breasts are, your ass is your best asset, and if the open top and red bra didn’t work, this has to be your ticket to some sweet, dirty loving, it just has to.

You all head up for the morning meeting, filing into the briefing room, and you give Aaron a soft greeting and a smile just like every day, and then offer to help him pass out whatever stack of papers he’s holding in his hands—fire drills and emergency protocol, or something boring like that. He accepts the help, and you take the fliers, but instead of walking around and handing them to each member of the team like he would, you bend over the table, reach across, and drop the pages in front of everyone.

JJ is the furthest away, and you practically have to climb onto the table to reach her; you grin and wink when she takes the papers out of your hand, and she shakes her head like you’re too much, but when you stand back up to hand Aaron the extras, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit interested.

He thanks you for your help, and you take your seat and listen to him go on about emergency exits and fire extinguishers and seriously start to contemplate moving to Europe to start a new life, or something else equally dramatic.

Because you don’t give up easily, you orchestrate one more attempt to get him to show some interest in you. You know he usually goes downstairs to the cafeteria for lunch, and that the elevator is a jam-packed nightmare because the main stairwell is currently under construction (which is probably why you needed to go over safety protocol, now that you think about it; shutting down the stairwell seems very unsafe.) You usually pack your lunch, but you can go buy an overpriced salad for the sake of your sex drive, so you wait for the elevator when he does, making small talk about your mornings until it dings and arrives on your floor.

He tries to let you in first, gentleman that he is, but that won’t work with your plan, so you insist, earning eye rolls from the other passengers on the elevator. You give Amy from Forensic Accounting a dirty look and then step in after him, lean back against him because there’s really no fucking room to even take a breath.

He’s taller than you, but with heels on your ass still fits pretty nicely against his thighs; a little too nicely, you think, as you get wet just from standing near him in the elevator, the heat of his body through your skirt. You really are a mess.

There are two more floors to go before the cafeteria, and no one gets off, but more people manage to cram into the elevator, which means you press more tightly against him to make room. Someone bumps into you roughly, which makes you unsteady on your feet; Aaron puts his hands low on your hips to keep you from wobbling, and your eyes literally roll back in your head, but he just leans in to mutter, “sorry” into your ear. You say nothing, because you’d probably moan if you opened your mouth, but you shake your head so he knows it’s not a problem.

When everyone gets off downstairs, you hurry to the restroom and don’t look back, turn on the faucet and splash some cold water against your overheated neck and chest. So much for that plan. All you managed to do was work yourself up into a fury.

While you’re in line to pay for your overpriced salad, you open up your dating app and secure yourself drinks with a hot lawyer for tonight. Seduction is clearly not working with Aaron, he’s clearly not interested, and you have to find a way to move on before you have a spontaneous workplace orgasm and get fired from the job you love—all of his tight new suits have been dark so far, but if he shows up in gray, you’re not going to have the will to survive anymore. You have to plan for the worst.

The lawyer is nice enough, but he’s too short, too thin; it’s hard to imagine Aaron’s body weight on top of you when he’s fucking you, but you’re nothing if not resourceful, so you move your hands to his head of thick, dark hair and focus on that—that, and his hot breath against your throat when he comes a little too soon and mutters “sorry” into your ear.

“It’s okay,” you pant, reaching between you to rub your clit. You close your eyes, tip your head back, clench around him; you imagine it’s Aaron inside you instead, and bury your face in his shoulder when you come.

He’s willing to stay, but you explain why it’s better if he leaves, and then you fall back into bed, fumble for your vibrator, and get off again so you’re not too distracted by reality to really enjoy your fantasy.

It’s a little twisted, but it is what it is. You’re standing in the breakroom a few days later, swiping through the dating app and bullshitting with Derek and Penelope, when this guy pops up on your screen. He’s not your usual type, younger and blonder than you prefer these days, a pilot, but something about his profile makes you pause; when it hits you, you blow out a breath and look up at your friends.

“So you guys know Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ is officially dead in the water,” you begin, and they nod, “and now I’m focusing my energy on trying to get over him. I went on a date with a guy that kind of looked like him, and that didn’t really help, but what if…” You turn your screen to face them; Derek nods like it might be crazy enough to work, but Penelope grimaces.

“No, I don’t think that’s going to work. It might actually be crossing a line,” she says with a frown, and you look to Derek for his input.

“It’s more of a coincidence than anything, right? It’s not like he’s unattractive and this is the only reason you’re going out with him. He’s a good looking guy,” he admits, and you’re really grateful he’s willing to help you rationalize this probably terrible idea into a potentially decent idea.

You send the pilot a message, and he wants to meet up; he suggests a bar near the both of you, and you know it’s risky, but you tell him you happen to make a great gin and tonic and that you have everything you need at home, if he’d like to meet you there instead.

He does, and you don’t even make him that drink, just take off his clothes, get him into your bed.

“That’s right, babe—wanna hear you lose it for me. Say my name, gorgeous,” he groans, fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you from behind, and you close your eyes, fist your hands in the sheets, and give him what he wants.

“Oh, fuck, Aaron. Fuck me harder.” His thrusts are already rough and punishing, but this is the best you’ve felt in a really long time, so you’re eager, desperate for more. “Yeah, Aaron, just like that.”

“Tell me my big cock feels so good in your pussy.” He slaps your ass, and you moan involuntarily, press back against him, panting.

“Your big cock feels so good, Aaron, so good in my pussy. Fuck me, Aaron, destroy me.” He grunts, tenses, and moves his hands to your shoulders, slamming your body tight against his as he comes. “Yes, don’t stop, Aaron, don’t stop,” you plead, hips working together, and when he smacks your ass again you come gasping his name, collapsing against the bed with a breathless sigh.

You feel a lot dirtier than you expected you would, even though it was kind of awesome, and ultimately Penelope was right; it was fun while it lasted, but it didn’t do a damn thing to help you forget about the only Aaron you actually want in your bed. Monday morning, Aaron comes into the office wearing a tight navy suit with a striped white shirt and a navy tie, and you follow him with your eyes from the glass double doors all the way up to his office, mouth open a little. Your eyes get heavy and your breathing picks up, which is the dumbest biological reaction to a man’s ass you’ve ever had—but god, it’s a perfect ass—and JJ has to actually lightly slap your cheek to get you to snap the fuck out of it.

“Are you horny right now?” she asks, a little grossed out. “I can’t handle you.”

“I know you guys all call him a tightass, but I mean, if the pants fit… and god, do they fit.” You pick up a case file and fan yourself with it. “He’s so fucking hot. What am I supposed to do? Getting railed by fake Aaron didn’t do shit; I think I might actually have to transfer.”

“You’re not transferring. You just have to get over it.”

“Are you kidding? She’s like a cat in heat when he’s around,” Derek says with a smirk. “I think I’m getting horny just because she’s horny.”

“Okay, so why can’t I have that effect on him?” you ask with your arms open. “Do you think it’s the pheromones? Maybe they’re incompatible. Smell me—does it turn you on?” you ask Spencer, presenting your neck, and he looks like a deer in the headlights, then leans in to sniff you.

“Uh… you smell nice?” he says with a shrug and a half smile. “I think it’s just your perfume, though.”

“Put your face near her boobs,” Derek says, and Spencer starts to lean in again. “I think the pheromones are stronger there.” He pauses about halfway to your chest.

“Actually, they’re stronger near the genitals, but I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“What’s going on down there?” You freeze and then turn to look up at Aaron’s office, where he leans against the doorframe; Spencer stands up comically fast, and you take a step back, clearing your throat. Aaron’s scowling—it’s really sexy and it’s making your heart beat in your stupid, traitor pussy—and then he sighs visibly. “We have a case, come on.”

The case is only a half hour away, so you drive, which is horrible, because you are with Aaron and Derek, and Derek lets you sit in the front just to watch you squirm.

It gets bad before you even pull out of the parking garage, because Aaron puts his hand on the back of your headrest to look behind him and reverse the SUV, and you look over at his body—his stomach, his lap, his thighs—and then quickly face forward when he puts the car into drive. You’re flushed, breathing heavily, and when he looks you over quizzically, asks if you’re alright, you just clear your throat and nod.

“Allergies,” Derek supplies from the back, and you mentally thank him for the save, but you kind of also want to smack him for putting you in this position in the first place.

You’re practically turned on the entire ride, even as you go over the details of the case, because his legs are spread and your eyes keep moving to his crotch; at one point, you think you notice his already unfairly tight pants getting a little tighter, but it’s just a trick of light.

By the time you arrive at the precinct, you are more than ready for fresh air, to put some distance between yourself and Aaron. You’re out of the car almost as soon as he turns off the engine, which probably looks weird as hell, but for your sanity you can’t give it too much thought.

The head detective and a junior detective give you a run down on the case while the other half of your team meets with officers at the crime scene. The head detective, a tall, handsome man in his forties, is looking at you like you’re a juicy steak and he hasn’t eaten in months; Derek notices, turns to you with a raised eyebrow and mouths ‘pheromones,’ Aaron is clearly unhappy about the detective’s lack of professionalism, and you couldn’t really care less about the attention. You just want to do your job and go home and touch yourself to thoughts of your boss… as one does.

The local police already have a board made up, so the three of you travel to speak with some witnesses, head back to the precinct, work the tip lines. Aaron seems to be looking at you more than usual, and when you get up to stretch your legs, he’s right behind you, following you out into the hall.

“Are you sure you're alright today?” he asks with a serious expression, hands on his hips. Your mouth waters. “You’ve been acting a little strange.”

“Stranger than normal?” You try to smile, to lighten the mood, but as oblivious as he’s been about everything else, he’s always been able to tell when you try to hide your emotions with humor.

“The last couple weeks? Yes.” He moves a little closer, and you try your best not to let it affect you—or at least not to let it show when it does. “You know by now that you can come to me anytime, for anything.” He doesn’t present it as a question, but it’s clear on his face that he’s looking for an answer.

“I know. I’m going through something… stupid,” you say with a shrug. “Something I should be able to handle, but it’s harder than I imagined.” He frowns, flicks his eyes over your face.

“Let me help you.”

“You can’t; trust me, you can’t,” you say, pleading with your voice, begging him to drop it. “I’ll get through it.” You shut your eyes briefly, exhale, and he reaches down to take one of your hands in his.

“Are you in trouble?” This is the most intimately he’s ever touched you, and it’s not just your body that sings; you know you’re in love with him, have been for a while, but focusing on the horny feelings is easier. It makes it feel like you have less to lose.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just need some time. Thank you.” You squeeze his hand, and then Derek pokes his head into the hall behind him.

“We got a tip about the unsub barricading a house downtown; the detective is mobilizing SWAT,” he says; when he glances down at your hands, you pull yours softly out of Aaron’s grasp.

“What do you want us to do, boss?” you ask, effectively ending your conversation, and he tells you to get suited up with comms and Kevlar so the three of you can head to the new scene. Aaron is, unsurprisingly, a complete badass, storming the house along with SWAT, you at his side; it’s his way of reminding you that he trusts you, that it can and should go both ways—he is so perfectly predictable, reassuring with gestures over words even in a situation like this one. It does nothing to help you stop wanting him.

He’s a little rough with the unsub (and that doesn’t help either,) looks ruffled and kind of pissed when you climb in the SUV to head back to the precinct. Spencer, JJ, and Emily meet you there, and you take the opportunity to vent about how indescribably good Aaron has looked all day—Spencer bows out of the conversation early, but JJ and Emily are kind enough to listen to your insane, horny ramblings.

“He’s just so hot—he always has been, but the new suits? They’re so tight, and his shirts show off his tummy, and his pants show off his thighs… You guys will never understand the things I want to do to him.”

“Okay, he’s handsome enough, but you’re nasty about it—I can’t handle you,” JJ says, not for the first time. You groan in response.

“How can you say that? Have you fucking seen him? I’m not supposed to think nasty thoughts when he walks around looking like that?”

You feel yourself getting a little out of hand, and Emily and JJ look like they’re trying to shut you up, but you can’t stop yourself. It’s like the floodgates have opened.

“He’s never going to know what I want to do to him… what I want him to do to me. I tried so hard, and he didn’t even look at me. All I wanted to do was get on my knees for him and grab his ass so he could fuck my throat as hard as fucking possible—is that so much to ask for?” You pause, but neither of them say anything, just look scandalized. “I guess I’m going to have to name my vibrator Hotch now, since that’s clearly the closest I’ll ever get to him giving me an orgasm.”

“Do you really mean that?”

You jump a fucking foot, spin around, almost knocking Emily and JJ over in the process; Aaron is in front of you, his brow furrowed, arms crossed over his vest (he hasn’t taken that thing off yet? You threw yours on the table like the minute you got back), and your mouth opens and your eyes close at the same time.

Oh fucking fuck.

“We’re gonna… go,” Emily says awkwardly, and you open your eyes abruptly when Aaron speaks again.

“No, we’re going to go; come with me,” he tells you, and he turns and heads down the hall; you look back at Emily and JJ, swallow hard, and follow him, your heart beating fast.

He steps into a small room with a copy machine, table, shelves of paper and envelopes and other supplies, and closes the door behind you, engages the lock. You are torn between being very worried he’s going to fire you and super turned on, because this is definitely a fantasy you’ve had before.

“Aaron,” you begin, running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry. I think it was the adrenaline; it makes me run my mouth and I can’t stop it, you know that.” He’s facing away from you, his hands on his hips again, and you can see the way his body moves when he sighs.

“Did you mean it, though?” When he turns to look at you, he doesn’t look angry, he looks… nervous. “Do you want me?” His reaction is unexpected—not great, but not necessarily bad—and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah. So fucking bad. And I’m sorry—” That’s as far into your apology as you get before his mouth is on yours, his hands on your face, lips pressing against you for a rough, eager kiss. Your hands move to his waist, pulling him closer by the vest, and he lifts you up onto the table, tugs down the v-neck of your t-shirt, mouths at your throat.

“You think I didn’t look at you?” he says when he pulls away for a breath, tipping your chin down so you’ll look into his eyes. “You think I didn’t see that lacy red bra, your perfect ass bent over in the tight skirt? You think I didn’t feel it pressed against me in the elevator, that I didn’t want to push that skirt up and sink inside you and take you there in front of everyone?”

You moan, chest heaving, twist your fingers in his hair and pull him in for another kiss, dripping and trembling at his admission.

“I would have let you,” you murmur against his lips, and there’s no doubt in your mind that you would have, if that’s what he’d wanted. “I would let you do anything: not just let you, but I’d want it, beg for it. I meant what I said—I’d get on my knees for you, anytime, anywhere, do whatever you want me to do. I want to be yours.”

He catches your mouth in another rough kiss, then puts his hands on your waist, guides you off the table, and flips open his belt, the fly of his pants.

“Oh god. What are you doing?” you ask, and he slides down his zipper, pulls you with him until his back hits the door.

“I’m giving you what you asked for,” he rasps, staring into your eyes, his gaze smoldering. It’s so fucking hot your pussy clenches.

You lick your lips, drop to your knees on the tile floor so hard it hurts, tug his pants open and pull out his thick, hard, veiny cock.

Your dreams and fantasies did not do it justice.

“Fuck. Thank you,” you mumble, looking up at him, and he wraps his hands in your hair, pulls tightly. You moan just from that and the heft of him in your hand. “Thank you.”

“Shh.” He scrapes his fingers over your scalp, hums as you start stroking him, licking the head. “Don’t thank me—I should be thanking you, beautiful, perfect girl. In what world do I get this?” There are lots of things you want to say to that, but you’ve waited long enough, will have to say them later.

You lick your lips, collect lots of saliva, and take him into your mouth, get your hands on his ass and dig your nails in. Aaron groans, tightens his fingers in your hair, and when you look up at him it feels like a fever dream, like it’s not real but a delicious figment of your imagination.

For a minute or two, you stroke him with a tight, wet mouth, and it’s got you aching between your legs, but he’s supposed to be fucking your throat, technically, if he’s giving you what you asked for. You pull off, tell him that, and he tugs your head back roughly, guides you back onto his cock and starts thrusting into your mouth, earning vibrating moans around it.

“God, you’re so perfect. How long have you been thinking about this? How long have you touched yourself to the thought of me fucking your pretty face?” He picks up the pace, pushes deeper when he sees you can handle it, and you squeeze his ass, feel your eyelids flutter as he uses your mouth, pulls your hair. “Are you a whore for me?” he grinds out, and the moan that rips from your throat is inhuman, embarrassing, and absolutely accurate. “Yes you are, baby, yes you are. My pretty whore, on your knees, mouth stretched wide and filled with cock.”

You’ve never been so turned on from a blow job, but this is Aaron, hot and dirty and forceful, everything you imagined and more. You squeeze him tighter, encourage rougher treatment, and he presses his hands against the back for your head, slams his dick in so deep it aches; you don’t gag, but it’s a near thing, and when he pulls you off you gasp for breath and whimper at the loss at the same time.

“Enough of that, baby. You were perfect, so good for me, almost choking on my cock, but I bet your pussy is wet and aching. Do you want me inside it?”

“Holy—yes, fuck, please. Please,” you breathe, and he helps you to your feet and then pushes you against the door, gets your pants down. His rough treatment has you whining, gripping the hair on the back of his head, and you kick off your boots and socks so you can step out of your pants completely. “Keep all this on,” you tell him, pants and shirt and tie and Kevlar vest and all, and he nods, kisses you deeply, presses two fingers inside you.

“Fuck,” he groans when you receive him easily, soft and wet and open, and he uses his free hand to sweep down your top, slipping the buttons loose so he can get a better view of your tits and black lace bra that’s holding them. “So beautiful, and finally mine,” he mutters against your throat, and you whine, let your head fall back against the door, and give in to the pleasure of his thick fingers moving inside you.

“Finally mine,” you murmur, tugging his hair, slamming down against his hand, and when you come it’s like a miracle; you cry out, clamp down, and wrap your free hand around his bicep and squeeze until you’re lightheaded, dazed, desperate for another.

You kiss, deep and passionate and filthy, and Aaron slides his fingers into your mouth, pumps them a few times, then kisses you again.

“Good girl. Are you ready for my cock now?” You pant, gasp, and nod your head, and he pushes your shirt off your shoulders, lifts your legs so you’ll wrap them around his waist, and pushes inside you. You both moan, kiss, moan again, and then you wrap your arms around his broad back, hook your fingers in his vest, and hold on while he pounds your body roughly against the door.

“Oh, Aaron, fuck. Yeah. Want you to slam your body against mine; want to feel it, want to feel all of you.” He looks into your eyes, breathing hard, fucks up into you, hands on your ass, his hips and torso pinning you in place.

“Sweet, pretty, slutty girl,” he pants, spreading you open and shoving himself inside your pussy. “You tried tempting me, and oh, did it work. I might not have shown it…” He ducks in to kiss the base of your throat and you cling tighter, rock against his hips. “But it worked. You dressed like a whore just for me, just so I’d notice you; do you I know went home and stroked my cock and came with your name on my lips?”

“Holy shit. That’s so hot.” You move a hand to his hair again, can’t not thread your fingers there now that it’s allowed. “Could have fucked me like this then. Could have come in my pussy, not your hand.”

“We’ll make up for lost time,” he promises, and he thrusts up with his whole body, so you can feel it pressed against yours—shoulders, chest, stomach, all the very best parts of him. “I’m not too much for you? Can you take it?”

“Perfect for me,” you gasp, holding tightly to his vest at his shoulder and his shirt at his hip, bouncing into his thrusts. “So perfect, want you. I can take it. I can take it, Aaron.” Your mouths meet for a messy, hot kiss, lots of tongue, and you groan. “Give it to me, give it all to me.”

He bends his knees a little more, fucks you so rough and hard your mouth falls open and all you can do is whimper, clutch him, gracelessly kiss back when he presses his lips to yours.

He comes first, holds tightly to your hip and pumps inside you, fills you and then some, so it drips out while he’s still inside. It feels sinful, even after everything, and with a few rough drags of his palm over your lace covered nipple, you tighten and grip him and gasp out his name.

You both slow, and then he turns you, leans back against the door for a little relief after holding you up for so long. He nuzzles into your hair, and you bury your face in his neck, and you kiss soft and sweet until you’re feeling stable enough to hop out of his arms and put your clothes back on. He rights his as well, and when you’re both put together he wraps you up in a hug, kisses you, holds you with soft hands on your cheeks.

“I really have waited so long for this.” He brushes his lips over yours, and you sigh. “You never indicated… I was trying to be professional. Then out of nowhere you were leaning over my desk and bending over the table, and I was a little blown away.” You nod, can see that, pull him down for a kiss.

“It’s the goddamn suits,” you say with a half smile, and he gives you a curious look. “Your new, better fitting suits? They fit you so fucking well it’s almost illegal; I’m thinking of pursuing charges against your tailor for reckless endangerment on behalf of my libido, and the coffee carafe, and my poor, worn out vibrator.” He chuckles, hugs you closer, squeezes you so tightly against his body you almost pass out from all the good things you feel.

“Maybe we can strike a deal,” he murmurs, pushing your hair back behind your ear, and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll think of something you can do to make it worth my while.” After a little more hugging and kissing, the two of you figure it’s time to emerge from the supply closet; you don’t see your team anywhere, which surprises you, but when you get to your phone and pull up your texts, it all makes sense.

Derek: Congrats on the sex. The four of us headed home because no one wants to ride with the two of you and your pheromones.

Emily: Yay, you did it!! Drinks on me next time we go out!

JJ: You guys are loud; don’t make a habit of that.

Penelope: I hear congrats are in order! And by hear, I don’t mean hear. There’s NOT an audio clip or anything, so don’t worry about that!!

Spencer: Emily took an audio clip. Is it normal for girls to enjoy being called a whore? You don’t have to answer that.

You take a very deep breath, give him the gist of the messages—you’re on your own, they heard at least part of it, there is some potentially damning evidence that needs to be destroyed—and you leave the precinct to head home in a better mood than you’ve been in in a very long time.

Aaron takes you out for a late dinner, and he spends the night at your place, falls asleep warm and solid and very naked in the middle of your bed.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

[lfc21]

26th birthday

A birthday. The most anticipated day of the year. It was another day for blowing out candles which gained more on occasion. The world was yours on your very own day, even if you didn't want it to be.

You and kostas had been together for 4 years and birthdays had become more and more competitive every year. You both wanted to do the best for each other but what you both failed to realise was it had been getting more and more expensive every year, but you couldn't help it. The idea of treating your boyfriend and making him feel appreciated was your favourite thing to do. Kostas was the laugh in the sea of sadness that flooded the world sometimes. His smile was the one that forever stood out to you across a whole room. 26 and counting, you where ready.

"He's just left for training, how do I do it?" You asked on the phone, walking through your living room trying to dodge the several parcels dotted on the floor. You woke up to the most gorgeous 26 year old and there was not part of your body which grew old looking at him. His eyes where still full of youth and childlike memories, no part of him performed aged and dull like traits.

"Well for a start you need to get rid of all that wrapping paper on the floor, because thats just going to piss you off" your best friend pointed out from the other end of the phone as she noticed the heeps of discarded rubbish from kostas's presents. Your boyfriend was absolutely besotted with the presents you had bought for him, he hadn't expected anything just love and an occasional kiss.

"Thanks for that" you mumbled with a laugh whilst gathering up the shiny red paper. Your head was running a million miles per hour as you didn't know how you could organise this surprise in four hours. Surprise parties where hard, it wasn't easy to time things right around training and matches as it was more like a spy mission than a nice surprise.

"I'm going to leave you to it! Is it 7 o'clock I'm coming tonight?" She asked becoming progressively louder for some strange reason.

"Yeah 7 o'clock" you answered being clear that they where coming at 7 and not half 7 as that was kostas's time to come home.

"Alright bye!! I love you" your best friend shouted whilst ending the phone call. You where thankful for small mercies but not much good was going to come from you standing on a high chair trying to connect balloons to everywhere you could think off.

-

You had decided to have the party outside even if it was only May. Liverpool was expecting gorgeous weather, surprisingly as it wasn't known for it. The dress code was simple but still sent your mind thinking what on earth you where going to wear - simple but dressy, and you still found it unbelievably difficult. You decided to go for a tight white dress with matching strappy white heels, which will probably stay on for a good 5 mins. You started to feel the nerves in your stomach like little butterflies on a hot day. You couldn't shake the feeling off anxiety, what if he didn't want a big fancy party? What if he wanted an earlier night and not to spend it in his back garden with all his mates? There was no going back now, whats done is done.

"He's on the drive" milner shouted whilst running into the garden as he was on look out for the greek man. You couldn't send yourself for that job as there would be no chance in you flying through the house in a panic and not smashing your leg on a table or falling over a dog.

"Shit" you mumbled next to his mum which sent her into a fit of laughter at your clear nerves. You all stood around the garden together waiting for the arrival of him and his brother. His brother had a plan to get him outside to sort something out in the garden - a broken chair or a plant that had been ripped to shreds. You could see his tall frame making its way through the house, his eyes where glued down onto the phone in his hands. It was happening.

"Oh yeah well we did that the other weekend and it obviously didn't wo-" kostas rambled on until immediately stopping when he looked up from his phone and set his eyes onto the ones he cherished the most. There was a sea of his loved ones and he couldn't help but feel like the most amazing man.

"Happy birthday" you all shouted in unison. The waves of the words filled his ears causing a huge smile to spread across his face. He knew this was you - you had been acting extremely nervous and jumpy around him and the only explanation was a party, he knew you too well.

"Wow" kostas said with a laugh walking over to you and wrapping his large arms around your small frame. He lifted you up into the air wrapping his arms even tighter around you at how much love he expressed.

"Thank you babe I love you" kostas mumbled in your ear whilst your face rested in his neck experiencing the feeling off love and affection which you always felt from him in his presence. You knew he was happy, he had that glow - the glow where his eyes grew wide and his teeth made an appearance, it was the one thing which influenced every other person to smile back. He was a glowing orb of happiness. Everyone's smiles around you both decorated your garden, it was perfect. Happiness fell onto your shared home for the one special day.

"Did you know about this lad?" Kostas asked his brother with a laugh whilst letting you go but making sure his firm grip was around your waist keeping you close. A laugh fell from your mouth at the idea of kostas having no idea and his brother trying not to blow the cover.

"Obviously" he replied with a laugh. "Y/n told me what to do though, she's put alot of effort into this" he added whilst walking off to the different crowds off people dotted around the garden. It was a typical garden party - lads corner, girls corner, arguments over bbqs, gossiping about everyone and more importantly having a million and one people wanting to steal your two dogs.

"Your very sweet did you know that?" Kostas asked you with a cheeky grin whilst pulling you into his chest decorating your head with a soft and gentle kiss. His scent was intoxicating, it accompanied your body with a blanket of safety and protection.

"Hmmm I think I've been told that before" you said with a giggle whilst looking up at him through your eyelashes. He had no problem at the idea of loving the idea of you looking at him so innocently yet acting so cheeky. You where his weakness, no matter the occasion.

"Oi love birds join the party or get a room" thiago shouted from the bbq wanting you both to dispurce from each other for once and get involved. If it was up to kostas he would show you off all night, but he knew that was impossible (especially with his friends).

"Well I want to get a room sooooo" kostas shouted back laced with humour. You pushed his chest away from you at his cheeky comment. Although he was 26 now you knew that his mum was still in the right mind to keep him in check once in a while, and you prayed she heard that one.

"Oi" you laughed to him not wanting your personal sex life to be bellowed across a garden full of people you would have to see again. There was never a day where he wasn't urging to be cheeky and annoying, but nevertheless you loved it.

-

The night was in full swing - drinks flowing, laughter filling the air and a great amount of cute old memories being shared about your boyfriend. Kostas was glued to the lads as he hated the idea of being with you and his mum whilst you both sat in admiration over his cute curls or the fact he cried everytime he didn't get to play football as a kid. You and his mum where sat in the kitchen away from the numerous guests sat in the garden. A close bond had brown between the pair of you and it was only getting stronger.

"This was a really lovely thing to do by the way" his mum softly said leaning on the kitchen island and looking at your angelic face. She knew the influence you had on her son, he was a hard, cocky, loud man before he met you but since you had fallen into his life he had grown into the man he was destined to be.

"He deserves it" you replied softly whilst slowly releasing the huge cake from the box it was being hidden in.

"You deserve a medal for living with him" his mum joked back pointing at the man flying around the garden chasing his dog and thiago.

"Don't worry, I'm sure after 18 years of looking after him you wount mind looking after him for a few spontaneous weeks" you joked causing a huge smile to fall on her face. You both had this humour which caused your smiles to be set aside from everyone else's in the world. Tsimikas had three girls in his life - you, his mum and feurte and he couldn't think which one had made the biggest impact on him.

"What are you two girlie's gossiping about?" kostas asked with a huge smile plastered on his face. He wrapped his strong arms around the pair of you enjoying the sight of his two girls getting along. All he needed now was his barking princess and he would be set for life.

"Nothing for you nosey" you said, not wanting to admit that you where having a rather big gossip about him. Your eyes where rested on his face - that gorgeous jaw line, those perfectly toned ords and those gently parted lips that presents the lines of pearly whites.

"Cheeky" kostas mumbled into your hair whilst kissing your head. He knew how much effort you had put into this party but all he wanted was to take you in his arms and embrace you all night under the dark blanket with twinkling lights across the country. His mum left yours and his presence leaving the two of you on your own. His eyes where locked in yours, just the world and you two.

"I love you y/n" kostas mumbled running his hand on your neck feeling every warm place.

"I love you too birthday boy" you said with a giggle at the thought of him being that little bit older than you now. His smile turned up at your giggles, it was music to his ears - the sound of your happiness. His lips fell onto yours, moving with every inch of desperation and affection. The whole world shut off, kostas's lips took over your mind.

"Seriously you too! all night you too have been eating each others faces off" thiago warned with a laugh whilst walking past in search of something to eat. You pulled aways from your boyfriend leaving him with his best mate. You knew this was kostas's perfect day; your mind was at ease. He loved being around the ones he cherished and appreciated like none other. 26 and counting! It was you next...

This is in honour of kostas's birthday!! This imagine has been posted the day after his birthday but nevertheless its still dedicated to his special day! I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave comments and requests as they are greatly appreciated.

@smileytaa @trentshoe @cornertakenquicklyyyy @trentsko @robbo38 @robbothegoat @avenirdelight @alissonbeckrs @chelseamount @benchilwellblog @kostasstsimikass @nyctophilic0vitnir @chloereddy @prettylittletrent @tsimikas2l @daddyhendo @mrs-henderson

[misschifuyu]

Hello! Could i request a HCS for izana and the Haitani brothers discovering their s/o is good at fighting, because their s/o save them from a fight? I hope you have a great day, sorry if the request doesn't make sense, my English isn't exactly the best <3

- babes your english is absolutely perfect, and thank you so much for requesting !! i do hope you like it ! ♡

Izana, Ran and Rindou discovering that their s/o is good at fighting

genre: not sure..it isn't really fluff, just simple gang fight things

warnings: violence

Izana

whenever izana got involved in any type of fight, it was usually quite a rough situation. he would only ever get involved with another gang's member if it was truly necessary

the sight was brutal, punches being thrown between the two men as they attempted to knock the other out. other tenjiku members had gathered around the scene, but nobody dared to get involved in the fight of the president

besides, they knew he would only curse them out if they did

you had heard about the fight from a running koko who had passed by you whilst you were walking near the area, heading in the direction of the gang's main gathering point

it didn't take the two of you very long to arrive and, upon seeing the fight that was taking place and who was involved in it, you pushed your way through the crowd of spectators. a challenge, seeing as most of the tenjiku members were quite bulky and didn't even recognise the presence of the prident's partner

the other guy had already taken a fair amount of hits, but it appeared that izana had also received his portion of punches to his body

you didn't doubt his strength, so you remained at the sidelines as the two ran up to each other once more, shouts filling the air as the gang members tried to distract the rival

unfortunately, one of those shouts had been considerably louder than the rest, causing the leader to whip his head around in case it was another member joining in on the brawl

this left a predominantly open window for his opponent, something that rarely ever happened to izana. before he was able to react, a swift leg came into contact with his head, knocking onto the ground instantly

it had most definitely caused a fair amount of damage to him, and when your horrified eyes landed on his almost unconscious body, you weren't able to hold back your running steps towards the bastard who had thrown your boyfriend to the ground

you were stealthy enough to catch him off guard, giving you enough time to bring your arm around and delivering a harsh hit on the guy's throat

both from the force and being stunned at the sudden attack, the taller man lost his balance, eyes rolling up as he hit the ground. you hadn't realised you had hit him that hard, truthfully; but you were glad you had gotten rid of him

as you turned back round towards the injured president, you met his widened eyes as he stared up at you, promptly switching over to look at the fallen man before him

"y/n, I..."

"are you alright?"

you quickly crouched down to check his body for any serious hits, not realising how surprised you had left your boyfriend after that unexpected attack from your behalf

he was more than just impressed. proud was the word he looked for, and he was sure to ask you all about your skills once you got him back home

Ran

ran getting into a fight with another man was a sight that stuck in everyone's mind if they ever witnessed it

be it with his brother or not, he never showed even the smallest ounce of mercy towards his attacker. if they wanted to fight, he was going to make them regret they ever considered doing so

with the aid of his peculiar, metal rod - which nobody actually knew where he got it from in the first place - he never left a brawl on the losing side

he was a haitani brother, after all. he feared nothing and no one, to put it simply

despite all of this, you always grew nervous whenever he went up against someone. sure, he had a strength that topped any other gang members' in the area, but there always stood a chance of a weak moment, a momentary distraction

and it was all you could think about as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. stood beside his younger brother, your eyes followed the rapid movements that were exchanged between the two s62 generation members. it was rare that ran ever encountered someone his age nowadays, so he was giving it his all for the special occasion

unfortunately, you had noticed that his rival was quite skilled in his fighting techniques, and every now and then you had to hold your breath as they threw a punch a little too close to comfort to your boyfriend. it terrified you, to say the least

rindou kept assuring you that you had nothing to worry about, but as you watched ran slowly lose energy to keep up the fast pace, your concerns only grew in size

the last straw was taken when the other man grabbed hold of the metal rod just before it came in contact with his head. surprised at the uncommon act, ran remained still for a split second as the weapon was ripped out of his hands.

unable to take up an offensive stance quick enough to attack, he was greeted with a harsh blow to his gut, causing him to bend over in pain before receiving another hit, this time to his legs

watching him struggling to get back up onto his feet, your heart was practically at your throat. was he able to get back up in time?

upon noticing the opponent's leg lifting up, with the intentions of smashing the haitani brother's head against the ground, you ran towards him as fast as your stamina would allow you

adrenaline kicking in, you reached him just in time to throw a swift punch to his ribcage, halting his next attack as the sound of cracking bones were heard throughout the area

an agonising scream left his mouth as he spotted you just below him. despite his towering height, you had managed to give him a brutal blow; however, you weren't sure what your next move was going to be

luckily, you were pushed out of the way, towards ran, before a leg came in contact with the guy's head. rindou had gotten involved just in time, and soon enough, other members started piling up on the stranger

hand grabbing onto his abdomen, ran was looked up at you from the ground, utterly stunned at your actions. your worrisome nature soon came back as you got down and tended to him, asking him if anything felt serious

the guy was on a whole other realm, still not believing what you had just done, so you would have to talk to him a little more before he actually spoke, praising you immensely for your skills

Rindou

it was rare for rindou to actually take part in fights. he and his brother had taken over roppongi, so there was really nothing else to do unless some punk decided he wanted to challenge them. though, usually, they'd just get knocked out by ran's metal rod in the first two minutes upon arrival

if circumstances ever lined up to get rindou involved in a serious fight, without the company of his brother, he had a tendency of going all out, knowing that the brawl wouldn't last very long

all of his energy would go into going up against his opponent, determined to show everyone how he was more than capable to take someone down without the aid of anyone else

you had always sensed that he did it for self-approval, honestly. being the younger haitani brother, he had always been looked past, so when he got the chance to fight alone, it would be a vicious one

a member of a neighbouring gang had come up with the bright idea to compare the fighting skills of the brothers, with complete faith that he was going to beat both of them up, individually

it was really just the perfect scenario for rindou, and you could tell he was giving it his all as he tackled the stranger down several times

although it seemed he had the upper hand in the situation, you were starting to worry over his energy. 10 minutes had gone by since the beginning of the fight now, and you could tell both his and his rival's stamina was starting to give way

it was only natural, seeing how the two were going at it with full force.

as they continued to fight, you spotted ran on the other side of the gathering of members, watching intently as his brother took down the guy. it was clear by his expression that you weren't the only one who had noticed the toppling descent of rindou's strength

it all came to a turning point when, as he held down his opponent to the ground, the other was able to throw a kick at such an angle that your boyfriend lost some of his grip

this allowed the guy to release himself from the hold, quickly spinning round to send a flying punch to rindou's face that he received by mere millimetres. it was rare for him to not act immediately, but with the loss of strength, you figured he was struggling to even do that

the beating against your chest was now racing, watching as your boyfriend was repeatedly being punched in the face. why wasn't he moving? had he given up?

the loud shouts from other gang members around them increased as it posed to be a loss for the haitani brother, and you didn't know what to do

biting the inside of your cheek, you decided that, seeing as nobody was bothering to make a move, you would take into into your own hands

with a speed you hadn't even expected from yourself, you sprinted over to the man above rindou, quickly hooking your arm around his neck to halt his repeated punches

with the strong grip you had on him, you were able to keep him still until you smashed the bottom of your palm up his jaw, promptly knocking him out into your arms

discarding the heavy body to the floor without a care, you lingered over the bloodied face that belonged to your partner. you took his face into your hands, cradling it as you uttered out worried questions about his state.

although he didn't tell you in that moment, he had seen what you had done and was thoroughly impressed by the swiftness of your skills. once he woke up a few hours later, you were bombarded with words of appreciation, but also suggestions for you to show him some of your hidden ways

[zeta-in-de-walls]

Tommy’s character and the theme of failure

One thing I’ve always rather appreciated about Tommy’s story in the Dream SMP is how it explores the idea of failure. It can be a challenging one to do right as it means exploring a character’s weakness a lot and can start to feel unsatisfying if the character never succeeds but I feel like Tommy’s story avoids this issue as his arc is ultimately an encouraging one. His character never stops trying or gives up in spite of his losses, showing the perseverance to keep going until eventually he starts to find happiness, no matter how elusive it seems. 

Tommy’s character is no stranger to failure of course but I’d say this theme starts to become prominent with November the 16th. Tommy had two goals: to save L’Manberg and to save Wilbur. He was pretty optimistic about both. And he failed. The day ended in disaster with Wilbur dead, Technoblade, his idol, mocking his heroism and telling him to die, and his home in ruins. It takes him a long time to come to terms with who Wilbur was, separating Wilbur into two in his mind: President Wilbur and the ‘crazy’ Wilbur who blew up L’Manburg. 

But Tommy continues on, quietly moving on as L’Manburg gets rebuilt. No matter what, he still believes in L’Manburg; it’s still alive. Also, he wants to finally get his remaining disc back from Dream, feeling the need to do this after putting it aside for so long.

But of course, things don’t go well. That which he had taken for granted, his bond with Tubbo, was under fire. His personal wish to get his discs back was causing division. A simple prank gone wrong was tearing everything apart as Dream threatened L’Manburg once again. None of these things were purely Tommy’s actions, and yet his actions played a part all the same as Dream essentially took advantage of all of Tommy’s weaknesses. Tommy was being viewed as a liability, a troublemaker, as self-centred, as a problem. 

Tommy’s character likely blamed himself somewhat for his failure with Wilbur and L’Manburg the first time but it had been out of his hands and his reactions were more shock than being truly broken by the events and he kept up his optimism. Yet this time, the problems were not things far beyond his control. It seemed it was his own mistakes spelling his doom and it impacted him quite severely. As much as he recognised Dream as an antagonist here, his friends distrust of him was his failure. Despite his best efforts, he could not convince Tubbo not to exile him. 

Rather than seeing the fairly resilient, optimistic Tommy like the first time he was banished, this time Tommy’s defeated. We see the full effects it takes on his mental state and the narrative does not pull its punches. Tommy’s already depressed and we start to see evidence of suicidal thoughts very quickly. This is all made far, far worse by Dream who encourages his dark thoughts and feelings of worthlessness, telling him everyone’s better off without him while breaking his spirit and making him miserable by repeatedly blowing up his items. 

Dream was of course Tommy’s enemy, he’d recognised before that what Dream had been doing to L’Manburg, with the obsidian walls and insisting on banishing Tommy, had been unfair even if Tommy had been helpless to stop him. Yet over exile we see him really start to internalise Dream’s words, starting to really believe that narrative that he is unloved and a liability, despite his best efforts. As his mental state worsens we see him starting to believe Dream’s lies so much that he begins to believe that Dream is really his friend who cares about him. Meanwhile, he’s angrier and lashing out at the people he cares about, we seem him kill Jack, break the bridges he built and generally lashing out at the people he misses the most. 

So through exile, we see Tommy at his weakest and most vulnerable. We also see some of his flaws with his uglier side, his uncontrolled emotions, his dependency on others, his deep self-worth issues and how he can be so successfully lied to. This deep exploration of Tommy’s character allows us to really see how the repeated failures and setbacks and losses affected his character mentally and depict it as yet another obstacle he needs to overcome. 

And ultimately he does, ultimately deciding to fight back and run away from exile on his own. Tommy’s arc goes to very depressing places but manages to remain an inspiring story by showing you at his weakest and yet also show him never truly giving up but pressing on, in search of that happy ending. Running away from exile has him also realising that Dream is his enemy, not his friend and he commits to fighting back against him. 

But of course the narrative doesn’t entirely move on. Tommy’s struggles and failures continue to plague him as the mental issues he has with self-worth and his confused feelings towards Dream do not go away. He managed to continue but that wasn’t the perfect victory as most of his problems are still there and he’s still the same person. at Techno’s house, we see him and his confusion. He’s lighthearted and joking about but he’s still deeply troubled without a clear stance on Dream or L’Manburg or Tubbo and he clings to the idea of the disc as a simple goal. It seems as if he’s doomed to become the person he hated or make the same mistakes again. He once failed to save Wilbur and it seems as if his greatest failure would be to go down Wilbur’s path too, blowing up the country he once loved. 

And Tommy nearly goes too far. He finally meets Tubbo again and his anger, his issues all come back as does some self-centred behaviour as he declares that ‘the discs are worth more than you ever were’.

And he immediately regrets it. He apologises, he turns around and gives them up to Dream. He won’t let himself turn into Wilbur. 

And yet, every little victory he fights so hard for is met with an even greater failure. He switches sides on Technoblade while giving Dream exactly what he wanted. His story isn’t a happy one in spite of him trying his very best and making the decisions that are right for him. And we can only wonder how inevitable it was or if he could’ve done better for he hurts Techno deeply. Is he doing better or does his very nature doom him to make the same mistakes again and again?

Once ore, we see L’Manburg blown up and this time Tommy declares it a lost cause. Despite his best efforts, it’s over and we can only stare at the ruins of the nation he’d once helped build with Wilbur. Additionally, Tommy is dead to Techno now, that relationship seemingly broken forever. 

But it’s not the end. Tommy is defeated once more, with each failure hitting harder than the last but he doesn’t give up. He keeps on fighting. For all he’s lost, he’s won Tubbo back, and the experiences may have been terrible but he has learned something through all of it. Even if all that is, is understanding suffering a bit better and getting back the courage to apologise and reconcile.

He and Tubbo go after Dream and it’s almost, almost too late. He’s nearly locked in prison forever and Tubbo almost killed. 

But it’s not end. Just this once, it’s not a failure. They bet it all and finally had that victory. The rest of the server comes to save them and Dream gets locked in his prison while Tommy and Tubbo are finally free. 

Course, Tommy’s story isn’t over there. And the thing with this theme of failure is that it keeps on cropping up. They may have finally gotten a victory but Tommy’s issues aren’t over. he tries to start again, building his hotel but the trauma from exile has made an impact on him. It’s something that can’t be solved in a day, but only over a long time. And despite everything, the issues keep coming back. Tommy feels like things are unresolved with Dream and visits him again. 

And he gets locked in prison and dies and then gets resurrected. And its all absolutely devastating and it seems as if Tommy will never get better, that he’ll never truly have his happy ending. His hotel gets stolen from him and its as if everything he tries to do ends in failure.

He tries to sort things out, tries solving things with killing Dream and it just gets Ghostbur killed and the guilt can only eat at him. Wilbur is back at Tommy’s afraid but time has passed and he’s starting to see Wilbur more for who he is. After all he’s been through, he understands him way better than he did before. He once more commits to helping him but Tommy isn’t the naive kid he once was. 

Tommy still lives in the very same spot he always did. He still wants the same things he always did: a home, security, peace, friends, and he’s been experiencing many losses. And yet, his story is not a hopeless one. Because in spite of all that’s happened, he’s still trying again. And he’s learned and can avoid making those mistakes again. Right now, he’s doing better, he’s committing to living peacefully in a way he hasn’t in a long time. He’s been attempting to build bridges and though all his failures haunt him, he is gradually healing day by day, still trying to find that happy ending.

I think Tommy’s story is very cool for the way it really explores these themes of failure. It does not pull its punches, its dark, never easy or straightforward but that’s also what makes it so powerful. Those bright spots, feel so good, they feel so rewarding because they were so hard-fought. We root for Tommy’s character because we’ve seen his journey and really feel he deserves his happy end even though its never going to be perfect and indeed every failure is a mixture of forces outside of his control and his character which he has been trying to improve, learning to be nicer, more forgiving and more aware of his own emotions. He can’t fix Dream nor does he know how best to help Wilbur but he can help himself and that’s what he’s always trying to do. He holds himself to account and always tries his best.

[beels-burger-babe]

Waiting in the Wings

***Happy Birthday Week Luke! This is a fluffy one. I don't get to write Simeon and Luke often, so this was interesting to sort of experiment with. I hope you guys enjoy! *** Summary: A talent show is being held at RAD; knowing the vocal talents of a certain young angel, you encourage Luke to join. Only Luke doesn't seem too fond of the idea. Together, you and Simeon do your best to give Luke the courage to shine.

The doors to Purgatory Hall slammed open as you raced inside with a blue flyer clenched in your hand. You rushed into the kitchen where you knew you would find your target. Luke, as expected, stood there is a light blue apron, whisking some kind of batter in a bowl. You excitedly waved the flyer in Luke's face. "Did you see this?! There's going to be a talent show?"

Luke squeaked at your sudden appearance and almost dropped the bowl. He took a moment to set it on the counter and grumbled something under his breath before taking the paper from your hands. You watched eagerly as his eyes scanned the page. He gasped and looked up at you in excitement. "RAD is hosting a talent show?! That's so cool! I wonder if Simeon's going to enter? He could probably read a poem he wrote, or act out one of his monologues," a tender look of admiration spilled into Luke's expression as he looked at the flyer. He shook his head and looked over at you. "What about you MC? Are you entering?" You chuckled and shook your head. "No. It's not really my thing. But I know someone with an incredible voice that would blow the rest of the competition out of the water!"

You thought that your words made it quite obvious that you were talking about Luke. You had first heard him sing months ago when Asmodeus dragged you to a tea party that he had been invited to by Simeon and Luke had performed for the three of you and Barbatos. His voice was truly the work of angels and was unlike anything you had ever heard before. It was remarkable to think that such a large talent could fit inside his small body.

Evidently, you weren't obvious enough.

Luke's eyes got even wider and he bounced slightly in excitement. "That's amazing! Who is it? You should definitely get them to enter! I'd love to hear them sing. Maybe they could teach me a couple of things." You smirked at his obliviousness and light-heartedly pushed the young angel. "Well, it'll be sort of hard for you to teach yourself what you already know."

Luke blinked at you several times, and you could practically see the math equations floating around his head. As he had his light bulb moment, his face paled and Luke quickly shook his head. "No! Absolutely not! I am not doing it!" "What aren't you doing?" The two of you whipped around to see Simeon watching the two of you in amusement. Your heart fluttered at the mere sight of him.

This, unfortunately, wasn't new. Although your feelings for Simeon weren't something that was apparent right away, they had grown more and more as you spent more time together. There was no denying the angel was handsome, however, there was so much more to him than that. He was intelligent and creative, able to outwit even some of the brothers with ease. He was incredibly compassionate and open-minded about the creatures in the Devildom. In one word, Simeon was bright. He radiated joy and peace where ever he went. You didn't know if it was an effect of being an angel or if it was who he truly was, but regardless, it was slowly but surely winning over your heart. You smiled at him and handed him the flyer. "I was telling Luke how I think that he should sing in the upcoming talent show." Simeon grinned widely at his charge, "Oh, that sounds like a wonderful idea! You have an incredible vo-"

"NO!" You both looked at Luke in shock. He didn't lash out often unless it was at one of the brothers. He most certainly never raised his voice at Simeon. Yet here he stood with his eyes screwed shut and hands balled into fists as they shook; whether they shook with anger or something else, you weren't sure. He scowled at both of you. "I'm not going to sing for a bunch of filthy demons on a stage in f-front of hundreds of students! Are you insane?" Simeon and you exchanged glances of concern. Simeon moved closer to his charge and placed a hand on his shoulder; like a parent trying to soothe their child. "Luke, if you really don't want to do it, that's okay. No one will force you. But I have to ask...Is the reason you don't want to perform because you have stage fright?" Luke blushed and looked away. "N-No! I don't have stage fright! I-I just don't want to waste my celestial talents on these demonic scum!"

He was clearly lying. Yes, he was upset, but behind that anger, you could see a small trace of sadness; as though his mind, which filled him with fear of the audience's judgement, and his heart, which yearned to sing for all to hear, were at war.

If the angel you had come to know as a brother wanted to perform, that god damn it, you were going to make sure he would be able to perform! "Well, what if I was there with you?" You asked in genuine curiosity. His head snapped up to look at you. "B-But you said it's not your thing?" You tried not to smile at his concern for you, and instead casually shrugged it off. "I could stand in the wings and be right there cheering you on. I could also help you practice and get ready; that way you feel more confident about it." Simeon nodded and patted Luke's hat. "You wouldn't be doing this alone. MC and I would be right by your side if this is something that interests you. I'm sure Barbatos would love to see you perform. MC and I would certainly enjoy it." Luke shifted from foot to foot as he thought about it. The room held its breath as you waited for his decision to be revealed. He glanced over at you nervously. "You'll be right there?" Your chest warmed as you were momentarily reminded of just how young Luke really is. You gently squeezed his shoulder and nodded. "I won't leave you for even a second." Luke let out a big breath before a gleam of determination filled his eyes and he balled his fists. "Okay! I'll do it! I'll sing at the show!" You smiled brightly in silent victory as Simeon laughed and hugged Luke. "Wonderful! Looks like the two of us have our work cut for us! When would you like to begin preparing?" "Now!" Luke took off out of the room, "I know the perfect song! I have the sheet music in my room! I'll be right back!" Simeon chuckled as Luke vanished from sight in a white and blue blur and looked over at you. There was a shimmer of fondness and affection in his eyes that caused your breath to catch in your throat.

"Thank you for talking him into this. He truly does enjoy singing, and I think he would've regretted it if he didn't join. He's very fond of you," Simeon's voice was as soft as the clouds that he had descended from. You scratched the back of your neck and awkwardly tried to brush off his thanks. "It's nothing. Luke means a lot to me too. He's like a little brother, you know?" If possible, his expression became even more tender as he looked deep into your eyes and gave you the most gentle smile. "Yes. I suppose I do."

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, before you noticed Simeon shift a little. You wouldn't quite say it was an action of discomfort but there was clearly something on his mind.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You asked with a reassuring smile.

Simeon, much to your surprise, blushed. "I was just thinking. I suppose with you aiding us, you'll be spending more time here at Purgatory Hall, will you not?"

You blinked a couple of times at the question. You supposed it was true. Within the next two weeks leading up to the talent show, you would probably be spending the majority of your time here with Luke, and as a result, with Simeon as well. You nodded in response to the question as you felt your own cheeks grow warm.

Simeon's twinkled as his expression lit up. "It will be lovely getting to spend more time with you. You-"

Before Simeon could say much more, Luke burst back into the room waving a stack of papers.

"S-So this is what I'm thinking. I have options, but I don't know which ones to choose!" He paused as he picked up on the obvious energy change in the room and frowned. "What's going on in here?" Simeon chuckled and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Nothing at all. Now, you mentioned you had options?" Luke took the bait easily and began excitedly explaining each of his song selections. Throughout the next two weeks, you and Simeon worked together to help get Luke in tiptop shape to perform. You ran vocal scales with him as Simeon played the notes on the piano. You helped him memorize the lyrics, while Simeon aided him in getting the melody and key right. Using your influence with Diavolo and the brothers, you were even able to get him into the theatre that the show would be hosted at, and gave him the opportunity to practice on stage while in advance. During this time you found yourself growing closer and closer with Simeon. The two of you would exchange secret smiles with one another when you thought Luke wasn't looking. You found yourself more aware of his presence and his notable attention towards you. You would glance over at him, only to find he was already looking at you. Simeon would frequently put his hand on your shoulder or ruffle your hair. The actions always left you flustered, which simply made him smile even more.

Luke wasn't oblivious to the budding romance between the two of you. He noticed all too easily what was happening and instantly approved. After all, it was much better that you be courted by a gentleman such as Simeon than one of those fiendish brothers.

So he decided to do his part in aiding the matter. He often made up excuses in the middle of practice that would leave the two of you alone in a room. He always made sure you two sat down beside each other. Luke would come up with clever little things that "Simeon needed to do," just after practice ended and would always turn to you immediately after insisting that you help.

If either you or Simeon noticed what he was doing, neither of you mentioned it.

The two of you may have started this as a mission to help Luke feel comfortable on stage, but Luke quickly turned it into a mission to get his two favourite people together.

Time flew by, and before anyone could blink, the day of the show had finally arrived.

The theatre was elegantly decorated with red and gold streamers hanging on the balconies and bouquets of roses lining the aisles.

Backstage, dozens of performers anxiously fretted about, running over their talents one last time before their big moment in the spotlight. Simeon had performed a romantic monologue earlier in the evening. As he spoke, you couldn't help bet notice that his gaze would continuously fall onto you; something that made Luke beam with joy. Since then another handful of performers had gone up, Luke was next. The angel stood between you and Simeon in the wings, as he nervously twisted his hat in his hands. "I-I-I can't do this. I change my mind. I'm not gonna do it," he tried to turn and flee, but you quickly caught him.

"Woah, woah, woah. Easy there, Luke. You worked so hard on this. You can't just back out now!" Your heart broke as you felt just how badly the poor boy was shaking. You knelt down in front of him and placed your hands on his shoulders as you looked deeply into his eyes. "Luke, it's going to be okay. You've practiced day and night for this. You're going to blow the socks off of everyone out there. Simeon and I will be right here with you the entire performance."

Luke sniffed and wiped at his eyes. "Promise? You'll be here when I finish?" Simeon came up behind you and placed a hand on your back as he knelt down beside you. "We aren't going anywhere."

Luke smiled faintly at the sight of the two of you so close and nodded. "O-Okay. I suppose I can do it then."

You pulled Luke into a hug and held him tightly. "You've got this Luke. Go show them all what the Celestial realm is really made of!"

Luke hugged you back as his name was called out by the emcee. With a nervous smile, he put his hat back on and walked out onto the stage. You held your breath as he approached the mic. What if something went wrong? What if the mic didn't work? What if the audience was mean? A hand wrapped around your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. You looked over to see Simeon holding onto your hand. He grinned at you and brought your hand to his lips, delicately kissing your skin. "Have faith, MC. Everything is going to be fine." You weren't sure if it was the heat from the spotlights or the number of people in the room, but you felt like you were going to melt. You nodded and squeezed his hand in return as the music began. Just as expected, Luke was absolutely incredible. He sang with all the glory of the heavens. As his voice filled the theatre, you could've sworn that the lights shone just a little bit brighter. There wasn't a dry eye in sight; no one could deny the beauty in his talent.

Once he took his final bows, he practically sprinted back to the two of you where he was immediately scooped up into the arms of a proud Simeon. "That was incredible Luke! Truly a remarkable performance!"

Luke laughed and hugged his mentor back. "You guys were right! After I started singing, it wasn't scary at all! Thank you so much for helping me do this." You fondly ruffled Luke's hair and beamed at him. "All we did was give you the confidence to go out there. You did everything else yourself."

Luke's chest puffed out in some well-earned pride as he soaked in the praise from the two of you.

Simeon finally let him go and smiled down at him. "Now, what do you say we go celebrate? I have reservations for the three of us at Restaurante Six."

Luke's eyes widened, and you could practically see the scheming thoughts cycle through his brain. The young angel let out a dramatic yawn as he stretched. "You know performing really tired me out. I think I'll head home with Solomon. It'd be a shame for that reservation to go to waste though; you two should go together."

You blinked at Luke in shock, as a knowing smirk climbed onto Simeon's face. He turned to you with coy, yet loving, eyes and held out his hand. "Well, what do you say, MC? Care to accompany me to dinner this evening?"

You gaped at him for a second, as Luke watched the interaction in excitement. You stumbled upon your words for a second before finally getting them out. "I-I, um, yes! Yes. I would l-love that."

"YES!" The two of you quickly looked over at Luke as he jumped around in celebration. Seeing that he was caught, he froze before chuckling nervously and scratching the back of his neck. "I-I mean, bummer that I got join you two. Have a good night!" Just like that, Luke took off to go find Solomon.

You sighed and shook your head. "He's a trouble maker."

Simeon laughed and took your hand into his and he pulled you close to him. "Perhaps, but if the result of his mischief allows me to spend more time with you, then I, for one, am grateful," he kissed the top of your hands once more and offered out his arm to you. "Shall we?"

Your heart fluttered as you took his arm and allowed him to escort you out of the theatre and into what promised to be a memorable evening.

***This was a process for sure, but I think I'm happy with how it turned out! Thank you everyone for reading and supporting me and HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SON, LUKE!!!!***

Taglist: @thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @pebblesgengar @victoireshaven @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @obeys-world @poly-bi-mf @armycandy10 @burrixino

[thefanficmonster]

Just Two Sad Roommates

Corpse Husband x Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: The power of medieval tavern music gets put to the test when Corpse’s roommate is having a rough day. SPOILER ALERT: it’s more powerful than anyone could assume.

Requested by Anon. You know who you are 😊😋 Wish I could tag you, I loved this idea so much and had such a fun time writing it. Hope you enjoy it just as much 🥰

The last twenty four hours haven’t been so great. 

Last night I had a huge fight with my boyfriend over his flirty messages with several girls. It was not just witty banter, it was way more and way more hurtful to me. He obviously denied it and defended himself, at least in the beginning of the argument. Then he took on the accusatory stance, pointing fingers at me for living with another guy. That had me absolutely fuming. Not only was his statement fabricated and literally made up on the spot, but he also used some seriously horrible insults for him. I was having non of it. Corpse is a really great roommate, sweet guy and overall amazing person. I haven’t once argued with him since we’ve started living together. We’re actually quite good friends. So hearing my asshole boyfriend call him all those names was more than enough to chase him out of the apartment. Thankfully, Corpse wasn’t home to hear all that. He rarely leaves the apartment but by some miracle this was the time he was absent.

Then this morning my mom called me to have a chat. It started off decently enough but it only remained that way for so long. It didn’t take her long to start criticizing each and every element of my existence. From my job, my boyfriend, my living arrangement, the career I’ve decided to pursue, the fact I moved to a different state, my paycheck that’s lower than her friend’s daughter’s...…..You get the point. 

Now I’m sitting here, contemplating what the two years I’ve been in a relationship with Marcus mean to me. I guess it is just like a phone call from my mother - starts off nice but slowly deteriorates. All things follow this pattern in my life, apparently. And just like the phone calls, I’ve considered ending things between me and him many times but never actually decided on it. Until now. The last part of this decision is executing it, which doesn’t look very promising. My thumbs are frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

I take a second to take a look at my life from a third person point of view, like an out of body experience. I am wrapped in a blanket, huddled on the couch like a burrito with a face. A really sad burrito with a face. I have a job where I work as much as three highly ranked workers and get paid a little over a secretary’s paycheck. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion and disinterest. I often forget I’m human and just assume I can live like a cactus - no food, no water. I have a boyfriend that’s cheating on me and most likely has been for quite some time now. And we’ve been dating for two fucking years. Man, that must be the longest cheat streak in history. Who knows with how many girls as well. And I still have trouble deciding weather to break up with him or not. Actually no, scratch that, I have already decided, but it feel so unnatural and so out of character that my body refuses to complete the task of delivering the final blow to the structure of this relationship which was already weak to begin with.

And it only got weaker when I started catching feelings for another guy. I know, I know, I’m a bad person for that, but I was never planning to act on those feelings. They have always just...lingered, loomed over me. They got stronger and stronger every time Marcus and I would fight, as though they were laughing at my mock of a relationship.

Speaking of laughter, I hear my roommate laughing in his recording room. I gave him the spare room for his recording equipment for a cheap add to his rent fee and it’s probably the second best decision I’ve ever made - first being picking him to be my roommate. He was among the first to reply to my online add and appeared the least sketchy over the phone. More hypnotizing if I’m honest. He could’ve told me he was a hitman and I wouldn’t have batted an eye, handing the keys to his room and the apartment without a second thought. All he had to do was keep talking. Again, SUE ME.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic!“ I drop my phone when all the strings inside me snap, releasing the sobs and tears I’ve been holding back for so long.

I bring my knees up to my chest, hiding my head in between them, desperately trying to shield myself from the plane crash that is my life at the moment. Crying makes me feel even sadder and more miserable but I have nothing left to do to get all the crap that’s piled up inside me out.

I’m on the verge of falling asleep, the tears have dried and the sobs have died somewhere in my chest, when I hear what sounds like music straight from Robin Hood’s time. 

Holy shit, I’ve lost it

I lift my head from in-between my knees, looking around the living room for the source of the jolly, lighthearted tune which despite all the heaviness of my self-loathing makes me feel like the main character in an medieval adventure. Wait...Holy crap, it’s that medieval adventure, Robin Hood-ass music I hear from Corpse’s room!

I whip around to face the entrance from to the hallway where I see an arm sticking out, holding a phone which is where the music is coming from. 

“Corpse?“ I call out to him in a questioning manner, shifting to a sitting position with my blanket kicked off of me and bunched up next to me.

“I can’t tell if you’re angry or sad...or both. Didn’t want to get attacked upon entering the room.“ I see the right side of his face peek out as well.

I break out into laughter, covering my mouth with one hand, “You’re such a dork.”

He takes this as a sign to come in, pausing the music as he does so. “What’s wrong?”

My laugh stops but a smile remains on my face as I look at him. He just has that effect on me. “A lot. What’s going on with you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, plopping down on the couch, “The usual, streaming Among Us. You should play with me and my friends some time.”

I scoff, “I can pull of a lie no problem. Maybe I really should.” I don’t actually consider it, it’s just funny to think about. 

I have never watched any of Corpse’s content. Not his scary story videos, not his streams, not his animated compilations. Just his songs. And let me tell you...they are hella good. One song and I was hooked.

“Hey, I have a question.“ I tilt my head to look at him, “What’s with you and your love for medieval adventure music?“

“Medieval tavern music, and it’s not really love.“ He shakes his head with this dopey grin that is just. so. adorable. “More like a coping mechanism. Tell me, did you feel less sad I played it for you?“

I stop and think for a second. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Point made.“ He declares, leaving me to nod in amusement. “Now, tell me what that ‘a lot’ is.“

So, I do. I tell him everything, from how my boyfriend is cheating on me to how my mother thinks I’m a complete failure. He listens carefully, paying close attention to everything I’m saying. I catch myself laughing a few times while I retell the recent upsetting events.

Must be that music.

“So, you broke up?“ He asks once I end my monologue with a sigh

I shake my head disappointedly, “Not yet. I still haven’t pulled the plug. I don’t know what to say.”

He holds out his hand to me, “May I be of assistance?”

I look at his hand then at him and contemplate for only a second before deciding ‘what the hell’ and handing over my phone after unlocking it. The screen displays my boyfriend’s chat so Corpse just types away what he has in mind. Before pressing ‘send’, he hands the phone back to me. “Proofread it.”

‘Dear Marcus, this is one of your girlfriends speaking. Yes, one of them. You think I’m not onto what you’re doing, you little shit? Well, to your dismay, I am. And so, I discontinue this relation between us. That word might have been too long for your IQ so let me rephrase: We are over. Finished. Hope your other girlfriends wake up too, unless they are already in the know, of course. Love, but really hate, Y/N‘

I was never aware this level of sass even existed.

I add a smiling emoji and send the message, sighing in relief. “I can check that off my to-do list now.”

We both lean back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. A moment of comfortable silence takes over, leaving us both wandering in our own heads.

“Hey, um, I wanted to do this when I first moved in, but then I met your boyfriend and I took the hint. Now that you’re single, would you want to...“ he sounds a bit uncertain but continues regardless, “It’s ridiculous cause I don’t really like the idea of going out, but maybe we could order take-out...“

“Are you circling around asking me on an at-home date?“ I am surprised by how unbothered I manage to sound while I’m squealing on the inside. It’s fascinating how quickly a person can flip someone’s day around. Turns out it wasn’t the music at all. It was him that had the positive effect on mine.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch his face turn red and have to contain my laughter. The grin can’t be tamed though, especially not when he says, “Yes.”

Internally squealing, I launch myself from the couch, standing up straight in front of him. “Thai. My usual order is on the sticky note on the fridge. But first,” I offer him my hand, “I need to find out if a person can even dance to that ridiculous music.” At his amusement, my grin widens, “May I have this dance?”

He laughs that adorable laugh of his I’ve only heard through the layer of a wooden door. It’s even cuter when there’s nothing between me and its source. The source is cute too, not gonna lie.

With a shake of his head which is most likely disbelief, he takes the hand I’ve offered him, saying: “And you call me a dork.” 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze

[steps-to-parnassus]

dead men tell no tales reimagined as horror-action

thinking again about how dead men tell no tales had so much wasted potential to be a fantastic horror-action film. instead of focusing on j*hnny d*pp and his stale, washed-out-drunk “comedy” or trying to shoehorn in yet another love story to replace will and elizabeth, the writers/producers/directors should have taken a look at the absolutely phenomenal make-up, costuming, digital effects, and actors’ performances that they had on their hands for the crew of the Silent Mary, and at how the original script written by Ted and Terry heavily played up the horror element.

a horror-focused film would have been a breath of fresh air for the series and could have even made several other elements of the film (lieutenant scarfield, shansa, etc) work better. it would have made the idea of a “final adventure” ring much more true, and most of all, it would have harkened back to the horror elements prevalent in curse of the black pearl and ESPECIALLY dead man’s chest, which worked very strongly in those films’ favour.

just think about the possibilities (quite long, so i’ll put it under a cut):

ghostly hands coming out of the walls of the Monarch like in the trailer, but the viewer never sees what happens next. all we get are flashes of the massacre and Henry’s perspective, trapped in the brig with no light as he struggles to see and hears screams of terror and demonic shrieks of glee.

we don’t see the ghosts coming into the brig due to the darkness; all we see are golden pinpricks in the dark, noises of shuffling and agonized breaths and the sense that something is terribly wrong. they only appear to the audience as one of them brings a torch down into the brig for Henry’s benefit, and suddenly the Mary’s crew is revealed in all their terrifying glory to both Henry and us.

they stare and leer at him, and crewmembers in the background have red blood around their mouths. the audience gets the sense that they very much don’t want to let Henry go.

when we next see Henry in Saint Martin, he’s raving. he still meets Carina, still speaks with her, still agrees to help her, but he is terrified by what he has seen. he tells her about the corpses and the pools of blood he had to walk through to get to the Monarch’s longboat. he tells her how the demons watched him go with hungry eyes. he tells her that he can still hear the screams.

Scarfield does not seek to kill Henry just because he is a traitor - Scarfield sees him with Carina, whom he lusts after. Henry might help her off the island, might protect her. Scarfield wants him out of the way so that he might possess. he has heard plenty of the ghostly crew and cares not that they are attacking british ships - every officer not himself that dies is a greater chance Scarfield will be promoted in the seniority-obsessed ranking system.

Jack is doing well when we first see him, the cunning fast-talker we’ve always known him to be. it is only after the rumours of a ghostly crew with a captain calling himself Salazar spread like wildfire around Saint Martin that he starts trying to drown himself in liquor to assuage the bone-deep terror. 

when Salazar and his crew are freed, they don’t have a mild little cheer. no, they tear their hair and howl like madmen. they have been storing all their pain and hate against pirates and empires for decades - they are going to bathe the oceans in blood.

when we first see Shansa, she is hooded and cloaked, somehow able to track the movements of the dead. she takes her robe off and we see why: she is covered in scars from blades and fingernails and teeth, wounds left her when she was the “one man left alive” from a voyage into the Triangle many years ago, back when the Mary’s crew could not control their bloodlust as well as they can now. and that is terrifying to us - what they did on the Monarch was their version of being restrained.

we see the news of the dead crew spreading as they attack pirates and british ships alike. churches are overflowing with terrified citizens; people bar their doors and hold fast their rosaries and guns at night.

Jack’s crew were loyal to him up until they heard of the dead - now they must be paid off by Henry to rescue Jack, because every pirate in the Caribbean knows who Salazar is; and now that he is the undead, they daren’t let him find them. the rumours are coming back from men left alive that the crew of the Mary sing and laugh as they butcher without remorse, that the evil curse they lay under forces them to feast on human flesh just to keep going, just to feel anything. Jack’s crew do not mutiny later because he suggests it - they mutiny out of sheer terror.

the scene with Salazar and Barbossa’s first encounter is one of the few in the film where the horror element is quite prominent (the other being Salazar’s intro, and it isn’t a coincidence that these are two of the film’s strongest and most compelling scenes). very little about this would need to be changed to work, save for one thing: Salazar does not tap his sword five times at the end. instead he simply says, “you can take what’s left of them,” and nods to his lieutenant and his men, who all begin to smile as they turn to the crew. when we see them next, Barbossa’s crew are down to less than half. we never find out what happens to them.

when Salazar tells his story and we see the past, we are stunned. here is the crew of the Mary, working together, smiling, laughing at their victory. we see and hear them talking about how finally civilians will be safe; about how they can retire, go back to their wives and children and parents and siblings. we see them as normal men with a noble goal. 

we see them awake and scream in pain and terror, and it is on their agonized screaming at the start of their decades-long imprisonment that we cut back to the present. now we can understand, at least a little, how once-good men became monsters.

Carina, Henry, and Jack would have far more dramatic reactions to the Mary’s crew on the beach. for Henry, these are the demons that slaughtered an entire crew as he sat in the brig, trapped and helpless and terrified that his horrific end was imminent. for Jack, these are men whom he’s seen before as humans, and whose hatred and bloodlust is directed at him. for Carina, who has never seen ghosts before, she is struck dumb. these men have horrific injuries, and they are looking at her with detached curiosity and bloodlust that seems a thousand times more horrifying than the looks Scarfield gave her. she can almost see what they would have done to her had they caught her.

there is no ridiculous wedding scene on at hangman’s bay. instead, the locals saw the giant ghost ship sailing into their waters. they know who it is the demons want, but are not aware that the Mary’s crew cannot set foot on land. they intend to give Jack up to the ghosts in exchange for their own lives.

Salazar still executes Barbossa’s men in the name of the king. he is completely mad, but some part of him still thinks himself a righteous naval officer.

Scarfield wants the trident, but more than that, he wants to use it and Shansa’s knowledge to control these dead men. he remembers the reign of terror Beckett wrought with the Dutchman. he would see it repeated for his own personal gain.

in the ship-to-ship battle, Henry initially tries to defend Carina until he realizes that the ghosts aren’t attacking her. they want her to lead them to the trident so that they can seize it for themselves. our heroes do not yet know that they want to end their curse. in fact, the crew of the Mary don’t really know that themselves - they’d much rather have the pirates surrounding them dead to rights, and then free themselves.

every time one of the Mary’s crew is dissipated due to contact with land, the others react. they scream and howl and gnash their teeth and their eyes flare gold. the viewer can feel how much they would like to crush the heroes’ bones into pulp.

when Henry is captured, the officers of the Mary cannot take their eyes off of him. he is terrified for his life, shaking the whole time. when Lesaro mentions that they have tried possession before, the other officers mourn their comrades who became trapped in human bodies and slowly died of thirst, still unable to leave the Triangle, all because they wanted to see the sun again. the viewer is conflicted - are we supposed to pity these monsters? there are flashes beneath the madness that suggests that deep down, they just want to be human again.

when the crew’s curse is broken, we see more of it. we see limbs regrow, bodies knit together again. we see the bloodthirsty monsters we have come to fear laughing and weeping with joy, embracing each other. we hear their terrified screams for help as Salazar finally demonstrates that his own bloodlust was decidedly not the byproduct of a curse as was the case for his crew and pursues Jack.

Barbossa climbs down the chain to kill Salazar, but the former spanish officer deals a mortal blow. just as he is about to kill Barbossa, Jack himself decides to muster up his courage and sacrifice to save those dear to him, which throughout the films, he has always done. he falls from the anchor, and together with his rival-turned-best-friend, he plummets to his death with one last jaunty sweep of his tricorne hat.

there are many dead from the battle. Barbossa’s pirate empire is in ruins, and british power in the caribbean has taken a massive hit. people everywhere are terrified. Henry, however, finds that his terror has stopped and resolves to be a braver man after witnessing what Barbossa and Jack have done. Carina pledges to honour her father and never again to disbelieve in ghost stories. she decides to become a pirate.

in this bittersweet ending, a glimmer of hope: the Dutchman surfaces, with two new crewmembers. Will hangs up his hat to Jack, with Barbossa as his first mate, and Jack is finally reunited with Bill, who has made amends with Barbossa. the old captain-versus-captain dynamic is back - and destined to play out forever. with uncharacteristic solemnity, Jack vows to ferry Salazar’s crew to the other side so that they can finally rest.

Will climbs aboard the Black Pearl, where the crew has elected Carina Barbossa captain. he asks if she might sail him to Singapore - his wife is the pirate king and lord of the south china sea, and that is where she holds court. Henry and Carina, true pirates, share a kiss as the sun rises and our heroes head off to find new adventure. the nightmare is finally over.