#i went looking for it on ao3 but could not find jack so i had to get it Out of me

[prettyboykatsuki]

Im sorry but your ayato kamisato fic was DEPRAVED. Like i knew you said it was bad but GOTAMN!!! Are you okay my g? /j

i am not okay ever. ive been so haunted with the concept all day i cant get any rest !!!!!!!!!!! i want him so bad!!! i want his weird tendencies!!!!!!

truthfully i have been plagued with mother/son inc*st dynamics since i thought about it with scaramouche plus my beloved vics influence. but there are better subjects for it and ayato is one

[reidtina]

Mr. President

Pairing: jack schlossberg x fem!reader

Content warning: +18 MDI semi-public sex (I think it's considered), oral sex (reader receiving), pet name calling (honey, darling, baby, babe), vaginal fingering, orgasm, office sex, smut, mentions of sex, established relationship, I think that's it

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Jack Kennedy Schlossberg is the grandson of the Former President John F. Kennedy, and now he's the one to assume the role of president of the USA, he's a serious politician, but when it comes to his girlfriend Y/N, he's also a little horny, which sometimes leads to situations like eating her pussy in his office at the white house.

A/n: i wrote it because I didnt find many fics of him, but it's my first ever, I posted it on ao3 too

You’ve been dating Jack for over 3 years now, you lived in New York City, and since he moved to the White House in Washington you didn’t get to see each other as often as you’d want, but you had a few free days this week, so you decided to spend them in DC with him. The guards already knew you, so they let you in and you went straight to your boyfriend’s office on the west wing.

When he hears your knock on the door, he yells a little “come on in” and as you open the door, he looks up from the paperwork he was doing and smiles at you.

“Hey, darling” he says standing up from his chair and making his way to you and wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. “I’ve missed you” he sighs, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I’ve missed you too, babe, I wish we could spend more time together” you say

“I know” he replies, sliding his hands to your hips, pulling you over to sit down on the edge of his desk. “But I want to make up for the lost time” he stands between your legs, running his hands up and down your thighs. “I was about to go crazy having to work without seeing you all day” he says kissing your neck. His fingers move just under the hem of the tight black dress you are wearing.

“God, how I love this dress” he mumbles, his hands moving from your hips to slowly run up and down your back, feeling the soft lace on your skin through the fabric.

“Does that mean you don’t want to take it off?” you ask in a teasingly tone with a grin on your face.

He chuckles and is fast to reply “Oh, no, honey, I may love it, but there’s nothing you can wear that I’d like more than the sight of your bare skin”. He bites your shoulder lightly and runs his tongue over the spot he just bit.

Jack nips at your neck, planting a trail of kisses all the way down from your neck to your collarbone. “It’s not even fair how beautiful you are” he mumbles against your skin, his large, warm hands sliding under the dress to grab your thighs. He pulls back to look at you and his eyes roam your body, admiring every curve and dip of your figure under the form-fitting dress. “God, I need you” he groans.

“You have me, I’m yours” you say looking deep into his eyes and your hand cupping his face, pulling him in for a kiss.

When you break the kiss, he says “No, I need you right now” gripping at your waist to pull your body closer to his, pressing his hips into yours. His eyes are darkened with lust, his breathing heavy. “Can you lock the door?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly.

You get up from the desk and make your way to the door and while he closes the curtains you turn the key on the door, locking it and as soon as he hears the click of the door locking echoing through the office and you go back to where he’s standing, he pounces. He grabs your hips again and pins you to the edge of his desk, his mouth crashing into yours in a messy kiss. The kiss is hot, desperate, his tongue invades your mouth, tangling with yours.

“Hooking up with the president in the white house, that’s kinky” you mutter through the kiss, running one hand through his hair and the other lightly scratching his chest. “God, that mouth of yours” he mutters back, then running his tongue slowly over yours, before pulling away slightly. “Maybe I’ll have to put it to good use for me” he says, nipping your bottom lip and pinning you harder to the desk with his hips. His hands grip your thighs, slowly sliding up your dress. He plants a trail of kisses down your neck, biting softly at the skin, his warm breath fanning across your chest through the fabric of your dress. His hands continue to slide up your thighs, and he moves to push your legs apart.

He lifts you up and sets you gently on the desk, his body now between your legs, his lips are on your neck, slowly sucking in the soft skin and marking you as his own. His hands are on your hips, holding you against him as he continues to kiss and bite every bit of skin he can find, sometimes getting a moan out of you.

“God, you’re delicious” he mutters against your skin, his hands moving to your thighs as he pushes your dress up, slowly running his hands up your bare legs, his lips find their way to your collarbone, and he kisses, nips and sucks, masking your skin as he goes. “So soft” he breaths heavily, placing a kiss right over your chest before moving down to your bare thighs, his hands grip on them, as he slowly spread your legs wider “I need more” he groans and you moan to the feeling of his mouth on your thighs. “Take it” you say softly and low.

His lips move to your knee, where he bites down gently “Careful what you say to me” he mutters, his hands slowly tracing up your inner thigh “I’ll take everything I can”, his words send shivers up your spine. “It’s yours to take” you whisper as he pushes your legs open even further, biting gently at your inner thigh, his lips moving over your skin “you’re mine” he says, his hot breath washing over you. “I am” you confirm, nodding and caressing his hair as his lips find their way higher and higher, until you feel them press against your core through your underwear, he gently bites and sucks at the skin and then pauses to say: “and no one else’s”

“No one else’s, only yours” you confirm again, eager to feel his mouth on your skin again and then his tongue darts out, licking over the fabric of your underwear once again. He looks up at you through black eyelashes and whispers “I’m going to show you exactly who you belong to”, his fingers running over the lace of your panties. “Show me, babe” you ask.

He grins at you, and in one swift movement, he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls the lace off, tossing them somewhere on the floor, before quickly getting back on his knees in front of you. He runs his hands up your legs again, his fingers slowly running over the sensitive skin of your center. “I’m gonna make you say my name” he says in a seductive tone. “Oh, fuck” you let out a moan when one of his fingers enters you.

He moves his other hand up to grip your thigh, pulling you closer to him “That’s not it, darling” he teases, his breath hot on your skin and now two fingers moving inside of you. “Say it” he demands, his lips trailing up your thighs, moving closer to where his fingers are, his lips move up and down, not quite where you need them yet. “Jack, please” you beg, your voice shaking in lust and need. He runs his tongue over the sensitive skin of your thighs, teasing you “please what, honey?” he asks, looking up at you, his brown eyes darkened with lust, burning through your skin. “Please eat my pussy” you ask, barely able to let out the words through your desperation. “That’s all you had to say, darling” he mutters, and wasting no more time his tongue dives into you, his mouth and fingers working over you. He sucks and licks at your skin, tasting every bit of you as he devours you, his tongue moves rapidly.

He pulls back for a moment, running his tongue over his lips, the corners of which turn up in a sly grin “I’ve been wanting this all that, baby” he says and you grin down at him and teasingly say “You love the way I taste, don’t you?” He hums against you, his tongue running up and down again “Yeah, I do. I’m addicted to you” he says, his eyes flickering up, watching your facial expressions, admiring your moans and the way you tilt your head back in pleasure, loving every second of it. “You know I love when you sound like that” he mutters, his eyes never leaving you. “Jack” you moan his name, the sound of it sending blood down his cock, he loves the sounds you make, loves the fact that he’s able to get you this worked up “Say it again” he asks and you obey, moaning his name again as you bite your lower lip “I’m almost cumming, Jack” you groan. “Yeah, baby?” he smirks onto your skin, keeping his fingers movements at the same pace and asks you “Tell me what you want”

“Just keep doing it like this” you say grabbing his hair and he groans against you, loving the feeling of your fingers in his hair, he obliges, continuing to move his tongue and fingers in just the way he knows you love. “Just like this, baby? You like that”

“Uhm, yeah, just like that” you moan, his mouth working to get you just where you need to be, you feel your legs shaking and your breath getting heavier when you finally cum on his fingers and mouth, he laps up your release, pulling out his fingers and running his tongue over your core and sucking his fingers before standing up and grabbing you to hold your body against his. He kisses you, giving you a taste of your own pussy, “You’re so perfect” he says, cupping your face and holding your body against his. “I love you, Jack” you reply, he smiles, a soft, love-filled smile as he lifts you into his arms and walks over to his chair, sitting down and pulling your body into his lap, he wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck and whispers “I love you too, y/n”

“Where are my panties? I can’t be caught sitting here on your lap wearing nothing but a dress” you say and he grins against your skin “They’re on the floor somewhere, let’s hope no one walks in” he says, pressing a gentle kiss on your neck and running one hand up and down your bare leg. “Let me just grab them” you ask, grinning too and attempting to stand up, but he holds you in his lap “Oh, no, you’re not going anywhere, not when you’re sitting on my lap with nothing but a dress”.

You chuckle and say “You’re so naughty, Mr. President”, he grins and says “Only for you, you menace. You make it so easy when you wear a dress like this”. So you tease him and say “Even easier when I don’t wear anything”. He groans and bites your neck “Don’t tease me like this, you know I’ll have you again” he says, running his hands on your bare thighs. “I’d be happy to let you have me as many times as you want to” you say, smirking. “I need to go through a few meetings and then I’ll take you back to my room” he promises, making even more eager to have him all to yourself all night long. “I can’t wait for that” you grin.

“Oh, I have so many ideas” he says, his lips moving to your shoulder “and you’ll have to follow every single one of them” he teasingly whispers, nipping at your skin and making you smile to the thought of the night you’ll have.

[whatacaitastrophe]

Just About Snapped

Summary: Gale stands up to Mystra when she summons him to the Stormshore Tabernacle and is so jacked up on Mountain Dew after that public sex ensues. (he’s not drinking mountain dew i’m just quoting talladega nights)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Gale x Tav (Female)

AO3 Link: Here

Warnings: Public Sex, Oral Sex, PiV Sex, Porn with Plot, inappropriate use of Arcane Lock, time works the way I say it works, let me live, You've heard of Astarion fucking on his own grave, but have you considered: Gale fucking on an altar dedicated to Mystra as a fuck you?

When Elminster showed up the moment they walked out of Sorcerer’s Sundries with The Annals of Karsus in Gale’s pack, Fallon had to laugh. The goddess of magic had all but ignored Gale for more than a year, and now she was sending Elminster on her behalf twice in the span of a fortnight; and this time, she wanted to speak to Gale herself. 

“How could she possibly know we read a book?” Fallon asked Gale once Elminster departed. 

“Trust me, by even opening the book containing the type of magic The Annals of Karsus contains, we basically set off a giant firework that spelled out ‘look at me, Mystra!’ Trust me. She knows.” Gale explained bitterly. 

Fallon reached for Gale’s hand, squeezing it softly. “If you don’t want to go see her, we don’t have to. You don’t owe her anything, Gale.”

“No, this conversation is long overdue. On both sides. It shouldn’t take long.” He sighed.

According to Gale, time worked differently in the Outer Planes, and he should only be gone for a matter of seconds, even if his conversation with Mystra lasted hours for him. 

That was almost three hours ago. 

Had Mystra manipulated time so however much time passed for her and Gale, also passed here, on the mortal plane of existence? Honestly, with how vindictive she was, Fallon wouldn’t put it past Mystra to do something like that. The goddess had been watching them, so clearly she knew that Gale was romantically involved with someone else. Hells, she’d probably known since the moment Fallon and Gale played in the Weave together in the early days of their journey together. After all, Fallon hadn’t been subtle by imagining kissing Gale. Was she such a bitter scorned ex-lover that she would drag this out, just to fuck with Fallon as well?

Somehow, Fallon wouldn’t put it past her. 

“What if she’s done something to him?” Fallon wondered aloud frantically as she began to pace in front of the statue of the goddess she did not serve. 

“I highly doubt that,” Astarion mused as he picked at some dirt beneath his fingernails. “Based on what the old codger said, it sounds like she needs something else from Gale since he refused to blow himself up.” The vampire was sitting on the floor of The Stormshore Tabernacle beneath the statue of Selune next to Shadowheart, a position they’d taken after Gale had been gone for five minutes. That was about how long it took for them all to realize that even if Gale thought the conversation shouldn’t take long, Mystra might have other ideas. 

They’d been waiting for Gale to come back from the Outer Planes for so long that the sun was setting on Baldur’s Gate. Another half hour went by, and Astarion and Shadowheart had begun looking at each other skeptically. Fallon wouldn’t put it past the two of them to be communicating mind to mind via the tadpole connection. She stopped pacing, folded her arms across her chest, and stared at the cleric and the vampire. “If you want to leave, you can. I’ll be fine.”

If Gale didn’t come back soon, Fallon was not going to be fine, not even close, but if hearing her say that she would be fine was the permission her friends needed to assuage their guilt for wanting to leave, then Fallon would tell them what they wanted to hear. Shadowheart looked at Fallon, a soft look in her eyes. “He knows where to find us, Fallon. I’m sure he’ll come straight home once–” 

“I’m not leaving.” Fallon interrupted, her tone short and she glared at her friend for even suggesting it. 

“Let it go, Shadowheart. She’ll come back when she’s ready. With or without Gale.” Fallon hated the look on Astarion’s face, because he clearly thought Gale wasn’t coming back. Not tonight, and perhaps not at all. Fallon frowned as she took a seat beneath the statue of the goddess of magic. 

“I’m not leaving.” She repeated simply. Astarion raised his hands in defeat, and Shadowheart shook her head, but the two of them left all the same. 

Another half hour went by.

What if Astarion was right? What if Gale wasn’t coming back? Had they made a huge mistake by heeding Elminster’s request and coming here? From everything Gale had told Fallon about the archmage, she had no reason to believe that he would willingly lead Gale into a trap. However, there was every reason to believe that Mystra wouldn’t send Elminster to fetch Gale under false pretenses just to get Gale to the Outer Planes. 

It was dark outside when the cleric overseeing the temple approached Fallon. “I am departing for the evening, madam. You are, of course, welcome to stay as long as you like, but it will be just you and the gods until your friend returns.” He offered Fallon a gentle smile and placed a hand on her shoulder. A warm feeling flooded Fallon’s body as a soft golden light emitted from the cleric’s palm. 

“A blessing, to keep you safe while you wait.” 

Somehow Fallon doubted she would be attacked here, but if she were, it wouldn’t be the strangest place the Absolutists ambushed her recently, so she was grateful for the blessing all the same. Fallon nodded in thanks to the cleric as she pulled her knees in towards her chest and rested her head on them as she wrapped her arms around herself as he used his magic to dim the lights. If she was going to be here all night, she might as well try to get some sleep. 

Within minutes of the cleric’s departure, there was a flash of purple light and Fallon’s head snapped up. Gale, her sweet, wonderful Gale, came tumbling out of a portal with such force that Fallon couldn’t help but wonder if Mystra had physically shoved him out, or if he’d been leaning against something and she moved it out from under Gale to send him back. At the sight of him, relief flooded her body and Fallon let out a strangled sob as she shot to her feet and ran to embrace Gale. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m here,” Gale said softly into her hair as he held her tightly, running one of his hands over the back of her head as he held her tight with the other. “I’m here.”

Fallon lifted her head to look at Gale, searching his eyes for an explanation. “What the hells happened, Gale? You were gone all day.”

His voice was bitter as he kissed her forehead. “I know, Mystra told me as much before sending me back. I hate that she took out her ire with me on you like that.”  

Fallon looked up at Gale, refusing to let him go. “I had a feeling it might not be going well based on how long you were gone.” 

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” Another bitter laugh left Gale’s mouth. He kissed the crown of Fallon’s head and rested his chin atop it as she rested her cheek against his chest. “Would you believe me if I told you she seemed more upset about my relationship with you than she was about our plans for The Crown of Karsus?”

Fallon scoffed and poked his side playfully. “Be serious, Gale.”

“I am being serious, Fallon,” Gale squirmed as she poked a slightly ticklish spot, and it gave him a reason to pull back from her enough to look at Fallon as he continued. “You’ve shown me that love isn’t transactional, or something one has to constantly prove they are worthy of receiving, and because of that, I’ve openly defied Mystra’s direct marching orders. Twice. First by not detonating the orb at Moonrise Towers, and again the moment I decided the Crown of Karsus was not Mystra’s to control. The bruises I left on her ego are far more devastating to her than the thought of my becoming her equal will ever be.” 

Fallon reached up and cupped the side of Gale’s face in her hand. “This goes without saying, but I am very proud of you for standing up to her. I don’t think the Gale Dekarios that I pulled out of the broken sigil in a rock would have been able to. You’ve come a long way, Gale.”

Gale smiled as he covered Fallon’s hand with his own and leaned forward to press his forehead against hers. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” He leaned in and kissed her the way she’d imagined in the Weave the night he’d invited her to play with magic early on in their courtship: slowly at first, then with passion. Fallon sighed into his mouth as she parted her lips for him and slid her tongue against his lower lip, and he responded in kind with a soft moan as his hands gripped her hips. They were moving, and when Fallon felt a hard surface against her backside she broke the kiss to take in her surroundings. Gale had maneuvered their bodies in such a way that Fallon was now leaning against the edge of the altar dedicated to none other than Mystra herself. A sly grin spread on her face as she turned her attention back to Gale, and she was met with an equally devilish loon in her wizard’s eyes. 

Fallon did not need to ask or peer into his mind with the connection their tadpoles afforded them to know what Gale wanted, or what he intended to do, and Fallon was suddenly very grateful she’d chosen to wear the deep blue grecian wrap dress that Figaro at Facemaker’s had talked her into purchasing. The idea of potentially being caught shot a thrill through Fallon’s body, but thanks to the dress, at least this way some of her modesty would be preserved if that ended up being the case. 

Gale’s mouth moved from her lips to her neck and across her shoulder, and Fallon braced herself on the altar’s edge with her hands as she sighed approvingly. His exploration of her body continued south as Gale pressed his face directly between her breasts to kiss her sternum while one of his hands deftly slipped beneath the fabric to toy with her breast before pushing the fabric to the side just far enough for Gale to capture her exposed flesh in his mouth. Fallon moaned as she felt Gale’s tongue roll over the peaked bud before he bit down gently, then soothed the spot with his tongue once more. There was little urgency in the way Gale moved as his other hand slipped between her legs and he pressed his fingers against her core over the cloth, and Fallon whimpered. 

“Gale…time is not really on our side here...” Fallon reminded him. Though if she were being honest, her pleading tone had nothing to do with the potential of getting caught and everything to do with her need for Gale to give her more than just teasing touches. 

Gale released her breast from his mouth and looked at her with a look of innocence on his face that did not reach his eyes. No, there was nothing but pure mischief residing in the expressive brown hues she’d come to adore with everything she had. Fallon’s heart flipped in her chest, and her knees wobbled under his gaze. “Whilst I am not worried about any late night intruders, I see where your concerns lie, so allow me to make an offering as a gesture to your comfort.” Gale removed his hand from between her legs and waved it precisely in the direction of the front door of the Stormshore Tabernacle, and Fallon heard the faint clicking sound of the lock falling into place.

“There. Though, I will say, any person capable of breaking through the Arcane Lock I just placed on the door would be rather deserving of the opportunity to witness me worship a goddess far more worthy of my devotion than any other deity in this temple.” Gale sank to his knees, spreading Fallon’s legs to settle between them and parting the folds of her dress to expose her lower half to the elements. Fallon gathered the excess fabric in her hand and rested it on the altar behind her so it pooled at the goddess of magic’s feet, and Fallon had honestly never felt more powerful. 

Gale’s hands roamed up her legs and thighs until they reached her undergarments. Without a word, Gale hooked his fingers beneath the hem and tugged them down to her ankles and carefully lifted each of Fallon’s feet so he could remove them. They were soaked with her arousal, and Gale smirked as he took notice before tucking the evidence into the pocket of his robes, but he said nothing. 

“I’m surprised Gale, you normally have something to say about the state I’m in when you take off my clothes. No waxing poetic, today?” Fallon teased, unable to recall the last time her normally verbose wizard was so silent.

Gale looked up at her, his smirk still very much present on his face as he reached for her leg to drape it over his shoulder. “Do you mind, Fallon? I’m trying to pray.” 

Fallon opened her mouth to make a snappy retort, but the words died in her throat and were replaced with moan; for no sooner had he asked for her silence, she felt Gale’s mouth against her center as he licked a long stripe before closing his mouth around her clit and lavishing it with his tongue. She whispered an expletive and gripped the edge of the altar, her knuckles white with effort as Gale devoured her, his strong hands gripping her thighs to hold her in place. 

Fallon’s head fell back as she whimpered with pleasure. She opened her eyes for a moment, and Fallon could have sworn the statue of Mystra was looking down at her with a glare. Whether that was actually the case or not, Fallon stuck her tongue out at the statue in a taunting manner anyway. Knowing Gale loved Fallon enough not only to defy Mystra was enough to make her feel a little smug, but the fact that Gale loved her so deeply that he was willing to commit sins of the flesh with her against an altar devoted to his ex-lover? Mystra could come down from Elysium and smite them where they stood (or kneeled, Gale’s case), and Fallon would die a happy woman. 

Gale slid two fingers inside of her and she stifled another moan, raising her hips toward the wizard, urging him to go deeper. Instead, Gale stopped what he was doing and lifted his head to look up at her as she made a noise of disapproval. “My love, why are you holding back?” He asked her before kissing her inner thigh. 

“I didn’t want to disturb your prayers.” Fallon goaded him.

Gale raised an eyebrow at his lover and pressed another kiss to her inner thigh as his fingers began slowly moving inside of her again. “That your voice is not echoing off the walls of this temple means I’m not praying hard enough, dearest. I can’t have any of the other deities questioning my devotion to you, now can I?”  

With that, Gale went back to work, lapping at her clit with his tongue and his fingers moved inside of her. Fallon moaned, and this time, she did not hold back, her sounds of approval only pushed Gale forward. He began to devour her cunt eagerly, almost desperately until the only word Fallon knew how to say was his name. When Fallon finally came, her vision blurred as she cried out in ecstasy, legs shaking as she clung to the altar beneath her for support. Gale remained dutifully between her legs with his mouth and fingers touching her until the spasms subsided and he was certain she’d been fully satisfied. Then Gale was on his feet and fumbling with his trousers beneath his robes and Fallon watched hungrily as his erection sprang free when Gale pushed his trousers down just far enough to release his cock. 

Fallon moved to reach for Gale’s cock, ready to drop to her knees for the wizard and return the favor, but Gale shook his head, bracing her shoulder with the hand not gripping his cock to keep her in place. “As much as I adore the vision of you taking me in your mouth for all the gods to see, I’d much rather them watch me fuck you against this altar, if that’s alright?” 

Fallon’s jaw went slack as she stared at Gale, his eyes dark and desperate with need for her, and she couldn’t help but let out a single, short laugh. “That is…more than alright,” Fallon hooked one of her legs around Gale’s hip and tugged him closer, taking his length in her hand and positioning it at her entrance. “Show them all how good you make me feel. How good we look together.” 

Gale groaned as he kissed Fallon, pushing inside her quickly with a snap of his hips. Fallon shuddered with pleasure as Gale filled her, and she wrapped her other leg around his hip, pushing him deeper inside of her. Gale leaned down to kiss and bite her neck, moaning as he started thrusting his hips, setting a rough pace. “Gods, Gale, I love how well you fuck me,” Fallon moaned, removing her hands from the edge of the altar to wrap them around Gale’s neck and threaded her fingers through his hair. “You’re doing so well, my love.” 

Fallon was balancing precariously on the edge of the altar now, and she held on tightly to Gale to keep from slipping. Mercifully, Gale took notice of this fact and in one swift movement, he lifted her up and away from the altar, the skirt of her dress cascading down around her, and she whined at the loss of him as Gale’s cock slipped out of her as they moved. Fallon thought Gale might be relocating them to the wall next to Mystra’s altar, but instead, Gale carefully sank to his knees and gently laid Fallon on the temple floor. 

The cool stone was welcome against the heat of her body, and she released Gale’s hips from the grasp of her legs, settling them on either side of him. Fallon looked up at Gale with a look of pure adoration. “I love you. More than you’ll ever know.” She reminded him, and Gale smiled at her in return. 

Her wizard leaned forward and kissed her slowly. When he was ready, he pulled away from their kiss and pressed his forehead against Fallon’s. “You are the most magnificent woman I have ever had the great pleasure of knowing. To know you love me, and how much I love you in return…there will never be a greater feeling in the universe.” 

Gale kissed her again as he repositioned himself between her legs and slid back home, his pace slower than before, deeper. This man wasn’t just fucking Fallon in front of an altar dedicated to his ex, he was making love to her: likely in a way he never got to experience with Mystra, if the stories he’d shared were any indication. The love she and Gale shared was the kind of love only mortals would ever understand. It was world-shattering, soul-bonding, life-altering love that many people would never be able to claim they’ve experienced, and Fallon felt like the luckiest woman in the world to have found that type of love in Gale. 

The only sounds echoing off the walls of the temple now were those of their collective moans, and Fallon clung to Gale has she could feel her second orgasm in the edges of her body, rising quickly to the surface. “Gale— I’m not going to last much longer.” Fallon pleaded.

“Let go, dearest, I’ve got you.” Gale encouraged  as his own movements became more erratic with each thrust. 

“I want to go with you. Together.” Fallon requested and all Gale could do was nod as he picked up the pace. 

Within moments, Fallon came with Gale’s name on her lips and he followed mere seconds behind her. They rode out the high together, holding each other close as they moved, until each of them had nothing left to give and Gale collapsed on top of her with a deep kiss. 

Fallon couldn’t help but giggle into his mouth, smiling about what they’d just done. “Do you think when we go to the House of Hope that Raphael will just go ahead and show us to our room? Because surely we’ve just secured our spots in Avernus when we die for what we’ve just done.” 

Gale laughed with her, and he kissed her nose. “Worth it.”  

When they finally returned to the suite at The Elfsong Tavern, before anyone could ask about where Gale had been, Astarion took one look at them and made a disgusted sound. “Oh my gods, the two of you had sex in that bloody temple didn’t you?”

Fallon’s jaw slackened and Gale looked at Astarion guilty.

“How did you—“

“Even if you didn’t reek of sex, darling, go look in the mirror.”

Fallon immediately rushed to the closest mirror and gasped when she took in her reflection. She was a mess. Her hair was disheveled, her dress was barely on straight, and the love bites on her neck had begun to bruise. She caught Gale’s eye in the mirror’s reflection and grinned. 

“Worth it.”

[megamindsecretlair]

I'll Be Seeing You

Pairing: Jack Reacher x Black!Fem!reader/plus size reader

Warnings: 18+ only. MINORS DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. PIV, Cursing, SMUT, ANGST, fingering (fem receiving), nipple play, Sorry if I missed others. No spoilers for the show.

Summary: When Reacher reached your town, he was lucky enough to meet you the first day. You made him feel things he’d never felt before. And though there was the sad tug of goodbye in every interaction, he couldn’t help but stay one more night.

AO3 Link

Word count: 2,253k

A/N: Ask and ye shall receive, @kiwi-jelly-mochi! LOL. I rewatched Reacher tonight. Need that man badly! This is what my brain considers a drabble. Enjoy! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, reblog, or unhinged ask.

Reacher had a lot of adjusting to do when it came to you. He was a man that prided himself on being as free as possible, never sticking anywhere for too long. He didn’t stay in the same place twice. There was too much world to see and his boots were made for walking. 

However, when he blew through your hometown, he saw you sitting outside of a local coffee cafe, nose deep in a book and sipping on hot coffee. A glance was all it took for him to know that he had to meet you. Talk to you. 

It took some convincing. You kept saying you didn’t usually go for “white guys”. Like you were trying to convince yourself not to say yes to him. That only made him try harder. Stick around the town longer than usual, actually finding the place relaxing for once. 

No matter where he went, trouble always seemed to follow. Not here. Not with you. It was like you cast some type of spell over the town, warding it from any evil intent swinging through. If he believed in such things, he’d firmly believe you cast a spell on him. 

It could explain how his chest grew tight whenever you looked at him. Or when you smiled at something small like when flower petals landed on your hand or when you heard children laughing. You were so sweet all the time. So full of love and optimism besides all the horrors in the world. 

He strangely found that he didn’t mind it. He wanted to soak up more of it. Be around it. Around you. Interested in the way you make him feel. Stirring up feelings he wasn’t sure how to interpret. 

His favorite thing so far was when you called him your robot. He knew he wasn’t the most expressive, the most welcoming. He’d been called everything under the sun by men twice your height and weight, upset that someone treated them like an adult for once. 

He would be lying if he didn’t like your attempts to make him smile naturally. Doing funny impressions, making funny faces at him, bumping your shoulder with his. He played along, doubling down on being a robot but that was okay.

He liked that you were the beauty to his brute. You made him feel like Fred Flinstone whenever you blinked those cute eyes at him. You let him turn his brain off, live in the moment. 

Speaking of, you were sitting on your couch, drinking your favorite drink and listening to old vinyl records your grandmother left you. You weren’t really into the music, but listening to it made you feel closer to her. Mourn the relationship you never had. Okay, so maybe he couldn’t always turn it off.

In his mind, details mattered. He wanted to bask in all of your details. The moles, the scars, the lines in the palm of your hand. You’ve lived and that made you the most interesting thing in the world to him.

Cool jazz music played, Billie’s voice crooning, and you lightly bobbed your head, looking at him. He smiled at you, loving the soft way your eyes crinkled. You took another sip and tilted your head at him. “What you thinkin’ about Mr. Robot?” You asked. You reached out and tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“You,” he said, seeing no reason to be coy. 

“What about me?” You asked.

“How pretty you’d look in my lap,” he said. 

You giggled and shook your head. But you placed your drink down on the coffee table and scooted closer. “You’re gonna make it hard when you finally say goodbye,” you said, your voice wobbling. You kept on a brave face, smiling despite it all.

He told you that he wasn’t the sticking around type. The more he stayed here, the more he gained familiar haunts with you day by day, he wasn’t so sure that was true anymore. Wanderlust was his first love. Needing to roam thanks to his military background. Never putting down roots. Never staying in any one place long enough to make connections. Just a mean right hook and an itch whenever he saw injustice. 

Yet, whenever he thought of leaving, his chest would seize and he’d have to sit there and breathe through the panic. He knew he was in too deep already, but he needed one more night. One more day to wrap himself inside you and pretend to live there. Pretend to claim you. Pretend that you’ll always remember him when you’ve found the love of your life and forgot all about him. 

Just one more. That was all he needed. Then he’d be strong enough. Then he’d be the only one strong enough to leave you.

For now, he pulled you by the hand to come sit in his lap. You giggled, scrambling across the lush blue cushions to climb into his lap. He also loved it when you got excited. The way you lived out loud, expressed emotions clearly and vividly. So much so, even a brute like him could pick up on it. Become infected by it. Feel it latch onto his bloodstream and never let up. 

He pushed your black flowered dress up your thighs as you settled into his lap. He grabbed two big handfuls of your ass, squeezing it hard just like you needed it. You growled, rolling against his crotch like a needy slut. 

You weren’t wearing panties and he chuckled as he gripped your ass, giving it a light smack. “No panties this time?” He asked. 

“They just get in the way. Someone has a penchant for ripping them,” you said, pointedly looking at him. You leaned down, pressing your lips to his. He hummed, licked his lips, and leaned in for another kiss. You indulged him, bringing your hands to cup his strong square jaw and scratch at his stubble. 

“You’re right, they’re in the way,” he said, grinning naturally, just for you. Your eyes lit up and you squirmed in his lap.

His dick was throbbing with your movements. With the subtle friction from your breasts pushed into his chest. He squeezed your ass again, giving it another smack. He began to kiss your neck, licking the pulse in your neck and causing you to purr. You melted in his hands, falling against him as he moved further down.

He used his teeth to pull down the cups of your dress, freeing your breasts and humming in satisfaction. Fuck, he loved your breasts. Loved how they were the perfect shape and size. He leaned down, needing to feel your soft flesh in his mouth.

He latched onto a nipple, sucking hard. You squealed, hitting his shoulder. He chuckled, sucking harder. He tortured the little nub, feeling it peak beneath his tongue. 

“Oh, fuck, Reacher, I could write entire books about this mouth,” you moaned, throwing your head back. You poked your chest out, giving him full and complete access. Just as he liked. 

“Please do, I’d love to read it,” he whispered against your titty. You chuckled, bouncing in his lap and rubbing against his dick. He felt lightning strikes straight to his balls, getting heavier with a thick load just for you. 

He let go of your titty with a wet pop, leaning back far enough to admire his handy work. Satisfied, he moved on to the other, suckling it and moaning as you rubbed in just the right place. Just enough for him to buck his hips. 

“I need you, Reacher,” you whispered into his hair, kissing his head. 

“I got you,” he said. For now. For this moment. For this brief interlude in between towns when he discovered all there was and planned to move on to the next. The next people. He wouldn’t find another you, however. 

He picked you up effortlessly, scooting you back on his thighs so that he could free himself. He groaned as his dick was released from his jeans, pressure finally eased. You leaned over to the end table, grabbing a discreet foil package.

He’d been here an entire week and he’d fucked you every single day. Never without a condom. He wished to feel you completely. To soak his dick with your slick. Your essence. The very heart of you. He wanted it. And that was exactly why he couldn’t. 

If you were an old blues record, you were one of the rare, more optimistic ones. The ones that hurt his heart and made him think at the same time. You sounded like forever in every ring around the record, the delicate scratch of the needle. You needed someone to handle you with care. With love. To play you every Sunday right as the sun went down, fresh glass of lemonade beside. To protect, to hold. 

And that was why he never forgot the condom. Neither did you. You handed it to him and he opened it, rolling it on, and he used his fingers to gauge how wet you were. 

Fuck, you were dripping. He groaned and went back to kissing your chest. Working his way up to your jaw, to the corners of your mouth, kissing you fully on the lips. Heat washed over him, a burning fire under his ass to get inside you as quickly as possible.

He played with your clit as he lined himself up, sinking you down on his dick. “Unf, fuck,” he moaned. You didn’t even grimace or cry out that time. A week was all it took for you to get acclimated to his size. 

“You’re killing me,” he said.

You giggled, pressing kisses into his face. He fucking loved it. Your hands went around his neck, starting to lift up and down onto his dick. 

Your breathing was shaky but you persisted, lifting all the way off of him and then sinking right back down. You groaned as he seemed to hit some kind of spot inside of you, rubbing his thick mushroom head along your inner walls.

“Shit, fuck me, Reacher. Fuck me, please,” you begged.

Reacher hooked his hands under your thighs and sped up, fucking you onto his dick with a little more speed. You cried, soaking his dick. He could feel it, but he couldn’t really feel it.

“Oh shit, right there. Right there, Reacher, right there,” you whimpered.

He listened. He kept the same pace, the same thrust, spearing you on his massive dick. “Let me hear you,” he said.

You cried harder, whimpered longer, moaned in a tinny voice that sent more lightning strikes to his dick. He seemed to swell just hearing how needy you were. Felt how wet you were for him. He pretended that it was only for him. That you would only ever get this wet for him. To bless him with this side of you. This unregulated, wholesome, completely authentic part of you. 

“Louder, louder,” he said, panting, thrusting up to meet you bouncing on his dick. You felt amazing. Perfect. So perfect.

Your cries got louder, moaning battling the music still crooning in the late afternoon. Your living room was small but it suited you. Everything about the space was warm and comforting. Even the couch. He sank pleasantly into it, firm enough to meet your sopping wet pussy.

Your titties bounced in his face. He watched your pert brown nipples dangling like sweet berries in front of his face. He resisted the urge to suck on them again, instead looking up at you.

Your mouth was open, tongue peeking out. Your eyes were low, spaced out, and the most beautiful sight of all. Better than any piece of artwork. Any genius masterpiece. Your nails dug into his shoulders. He barely felt it.

He wasn’t arrogant enough to not feel pain, but he was a big guy. He could take a punch and he could certainly take the way you gripped onto him for dear life. “Oh, Reacher, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, diving down for a kiss. 

“Let me feel it,” he said, looking into your eyes. 

You tightened your hold, gritted your teeth before your jaw went slack and you shook on his dick. He kept bouncing you, felt how your pussy tightened and pulsed on his dick. He moaned, wanting to keep looking at you but also wanting to let the sensation take over. 

Sensation won out as he dropped his head back against the couch cushion, smacking your ass as you moaned from your orgasm. He was close. Now that you came, he could take it a step further. Slide in deeper. Bounce you quicker. 

His balls tightened as he finally climaxed, hot sperm shooting into the condom. He moaned, grabbing onto your ass for an anchor point. He grunted as he finished, looking down at where you were connected.

Your skin was slick with sweat, chest heaving with breaths. He grinned at you, couldn’t help wanting to make you smile. He was going to hate himself when he had to make you sad.

“I think I’m gonna stay one more night,” he said, bringing you into a kiss. He licked your lips and you gasped and he slipped his tongue inside, needing to taste more. Do more. 

“Okay, but only one more,” you said, against his lips. You got an evil glint in your eye and he wondered if you weren’t up to something devious tonight. He couldn’t wait to find out.

There will be more! The Secret Jack Reacher Files

Taglist: @planetblaque @chaos-4baby @00aijia00 @amethyst09 @ciaqui

@we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @kiwi-jelly-mochi

[softhairedhotch]

AHHHH FIRST FIC OF COMFORTEMBER YEAHHHH >:D comfortember day one: safe aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader after having a rough night out, you call aaron and he rushes to find you immediately. he fixes you up and the two of you finally admit how you feel about each other. word count: 1.5k warnings/content: mentions of fighting and alcohol but mostly fluff.

comfortember masterlist here! also on ao3 <3

you make me feel safe

Aaron wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing beside him. It gets to the fourth or fifth ring by the time he grabs it and anxiety bubbles low in his gut when he realises it’s you calling at almost three in the morning. Answering the phone, he immediately asks, “Is everything alright?”

“No.”

He’s up and out of bed instantly, throwing on the first shirt he finds and the closest shoes to the bed. “Tell me where you are.”

“I’m at, uh, I don’t, I’m… somewhere. My mind is all over the place.”

Aaron’s heart hammers widely in his chest. “Somewhere? Can you look around for me and see if you recognise something? Anything?”

“Okay,” you reply, voice shaky. After a few moments, you clear your throat. “I’m outside the bar we all went to a few weeks ago.”

“The Tipsy Ship? The one closest to work?” 

“Y-yeah, yeah.”

Aaron grabs his keys and runs out of his house, not even thinking about locking the door as he runs toward his car. Jack is sleeping over at JJ's; the house will be fine unattended for now. “I’m on my way. Are you hurt?”

“I think so.”

“You think–” Aaron stops to take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before shoving his phone into its holder and slamming his car door shut. “Don’t worry, I’m on my way.”

“Can you stay on the line with me?”

“Of course.”

***

When Aaron reaches the bar, his heart breaks at the sight of you standing alone outside. He tenses up once he notices that, not only are you alone, but dry blood covers your face, there’s a large bruise forming on your cheek, and the knuckles of your dominant hand are cracked and bloody. “God,” he mutters, running straight for you and grabbing you by the shoulders. He can smell an overpowering scent of alcohol on you and he winces. “What happened? Where’s the bastard that did this to you?”

You point toward an ambulance down the road. “The coward freaked out when I punched him back and thought he needed medical attention. Most they’re gonna diagnose him with is Dumbassery and Stupid Prick Disease.” You look back at Aaron and weakly smile. “And maybe a concussion.”

Aaron can’t help it, he laughs. “At least you haven't lost your sense of humour. But let's get you home and cleaned up, alright?” 

“Can I go to yours? I don’t really wanna be alone right now.”

He smiles. “Of course you can.”

***

Aaron holds a wet cloth to your face, reaching out to grab your chin between his fingers gently when you flinch away. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s cold, is all.”

“Sorry,” he repeats, gently dabbing away the dried blood under your nose and the corner of your lips. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“I got into a fight.”

“I can see that.”

You shrug, stumbling on your feet at the movement. Aaron gently grabs you by your elbow and shuffles you toward the kitchen counter so that you’re leaning against it for support. Once you’re stable, he begins to dab the other side of the cloth over your knuckles. “It was stupid, really.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” you sigh. It’s quiet for a few moments as you watch Aaron continue to clean up the blood. “He… the guy who punched me… I was on a date with him.” Aaron tenses. “And he kept buying me drinks and told me I had to drink them. I did because, well, free drinks, y’know?” You sigh and shake your head again, letting out a groan when it results in pain. “So stupid of me.”

“Hey, none of that. You’re not stupid.”

“Whatever you say. Anyway, I think he was trying to make sure I was drunk enough so that he could take me home without much complaint. I don’t know. I refused because I really wasn’t in the, uh, mood, and the night was a bust anyway, and he started… tryna touch me, grab me and all that, his hands were everywhere and I didn’t want them to be and…” You stop to take a few deep breaths, feeling sick at the thought of what could have happened. Aaron feels anger rip through his veins. “Anyway, he ended up punching me and I guess he wasn’t expecting me to punch back.”

Aaron grits his teeth. "Twice as hard, yeah?" 

"Twice as hard," you grin. 

“Good. That’s what I expect to hear.”

You tilt your head at him, trying to read his expression. “You’re not mad at me?”

Confused, his eyes meet yours. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, watching as his large hand moves over yours, his thumb gently sweeping over your skin. “I woke you up.”

“You woke– You– That’s what you’re worried about?” He gives you a fond look. “Yes, you woke me up. But I’m glad you did. Thank you for calling me. And for trusting me to help you.”

“I don’t think I trust anyone more than I trust you.”

Aaron’s hand stills as the words sink in. When he looks up at you, he notices that you’re staring at him with so much love that his breath catches in his throat. He hasn’t been looked at like that in… he can’t even remember. But when he thinks about it, eyes never leaving yours as you blink innocently at him, not understanding his revelation at that moment, he realises it’s the way you’ve always looked at him. With complete and utter adoration. 

As if he hung the moon and the stars.

“Oh,” is all he can get out.

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. Oh.”

Your face falls and he feels guilt grow deep in his gut. “You don’t trust me back?”

“What? I never said that.” He steps closer, moving a hand to your shoulder and looking into your eyes. “Of course I trust you. More than most people. More than anyone else, really.”

“Really?”

His eyes search yours and he nods firmly, squeezing your shoulder. “Really.”

You look all over his face before looking down at his lips, licking your own as your mouth immediately goes dry. “I didn't want… I… I didn't go home with that guy because of, uh, well, you. I couldn’t stop thinking of you... when I was with him.”

Aaron hums as his gaze drops to your lips. “That’s why I don’t go on dates.”

“Hm?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.” He inches closer, moving a warm hand up to cup your cheek. “Can I kiss y–"

“Yea–"

And your lips are pressed together before either of you can finish. The kiss is soft, sweet, gentle, and full of so much raw emotion that it’s almost suffocating (in the best way). Aaron moves his lips against yours desperately, holding your face in his large calloused hands as if you might break at any moment, and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. The moment your tongue brushes against his bottom lip, though, he pulls back with a heavy sigh. “Shit, you’re drunk. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’m totally taking advantage of you and–”

“Aaron.”

“I should know better and–”

“Aaron!”

“You should feel safe here–”

You press your lips against his again, effectively shutting him up. It’s a much shorter kiss this time, but not any less enjoyable. “I do feel safe, Aaron. Here, with you.”

“You do?”

“Of course. You make me feel safe; you always have.”

He visibly relaxes and pulls you into a hug. “So have you.” He sighs against you, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “I like being with you.”

“I like being with you too, Aaron.”

He smiles against you and holds you for a moment more before pulling back, hands still wrapped around you. His heart breaks at the sight of the dark bruise forming on your face and he leans forward to press a tender kiss against the skin, careful not to hurt you in any way. “I wonder how long we’ve liked each other.”

“I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, I think.” 

Aaron’s breath hitches at the admission. “You’re in love with me?”

You tilt your head at him, fighting back a smile. “Did I not make that obvious enough?”

“I… didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Well, get them up, Hotchner, because I’m in love with you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Aaron’s face softens and he presses a kiss to your cheek, sighing in relief. “I’m in love with you, too.” He runs his hands lovingly over your back. “Now let’s get you changed into some comfortable clothes and into bed, yeah? It seems like we have a lot to talk about tomorrow.”

“Can I sleep in your bed with you?” 

He presses another kiss to your cheek. “There’s no other place I’d rather you be, sweetheart.”

tag list: @criminalskies @ssahotchnerr @hotchs-big-hands @citrusiove @sillyhotchsgirl

lemme know if you wanna be tagged in future fics

[sundrop-writes]

Picture Perfect

(Perv)Sub!Mike Schmidt x Dom!Fem!Reader

Summary:

You and Mike have been dating for a few months now, and you have a great thing going. You're both very horny people who are more than happy to indulge in your desires with each other. So why is it that you find him hiding a dirty picture from you when you catch him masturbating one morning?

(Perv)Sub!Mike Schmidt x Dom!Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut. Takes place outside the movie's canon.

Word Count: 5,100

Horror Characters Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This is primarily a smut fic; this can be read with or without considering the events of the film, and has no spoilers for the plot of the movie. There are dom/sub dynamics here - Mike is more submissive and the reader is more dominant; because this is a pre-established relationship, the characters have been settled into these dynamics for a while and even though it's not discussed during the fic, we can assume they have established safewords and fully talked about each other's boundaries so everyone is safe and well cared for; she reader has female anatomy, and uses she/her pronouns (but with all my fics, most of the pronouns used are you/yours); this fic does use Y/N. 

For the main smutty parts: some dubious consent - Mike took a picture of the reader’s underwear/up the reader’s skirt before they were dating (when she was sleeping and could not consent) she was physically attracted to him at the time and would have consented to the photo being taken if he could have asked and finds the idea of this happening to be hot but he never asked permission and hid this from her well into their relationship; the reader finds this photo and ‘punishes’ Mike for it even though she likes the photo and enjoys his perverted thoughts about her; descriptions of masturbation - Mike jacks-off when the reader is not looking/not in the room and she walks in on him; mentions of Mike being gagged; mentions of Mike being tied up and overstimulated (multiple orgasms); mentions of Mike eating the reader’s pussy; Mike is called ‘good boy’, ‘Mikey’, ‘baby’; mentions of the reader riding Mike, mentions of creampie kink; mentions of orgasm restriction (toward Mike); marking kink - mentions of the reader biting/marking Mike during a previous sexual encounter; Perv!Mike; mentions of sexual photos being taken with consent (of the reader and of Mike); hair-pulling (towards Mike); thigh riding - Mike rides the reader's thigh as his punishment; mentions of a cock cage (not actually used in the fic); mild pain kink; some descriptions of subspace (even though it’s not called that in the fic); degradation kink (the reader verbally degrades Mike); mentions of spanking; undertones of humiliation kink; mentions of underwear stealing (Mike stole a pair of the reader’s panties in the past); (mild) Mommy kink - Mike calls the reader Mommy (once or twice, it’s not all that prevalent in the fic); finger sucking.

A/N: Here, I did go far beyond what was in the original request, but I saw the mention of Polaroid pictures in the request and my mind immediately went to perv!Mike?? I’m not even sure why. But I had fun with this lmao. And I keep thinking of writing a kind of ‘prequel’ fic of the situation where he originally took the photo, but idk. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! If you want to see more Mike Schmidt fics from me, definitely let me know by reblogging this or commenting on it.

...

When you got out of the shower, the last thing you were expecting to hear was the distinct sound of moans coming from the bedroom. 

Not that you were at all disappointed by the needy, choked off sounds that your boyfriend Mike made. You were just… surprised. 

After the night the two of you had before, the fact that Mike had the desire to masturbate was surprising to say the least. 

You thought that you would have tired him out and left his cock sore and worn out for at least a good day to follow. It had been a rare night when the two of you had the house all to yourselves - Abby was sleeping over at a friend’s place (Mike often credited you with Abby being more open and sociable and feeling up to doing things like this where she wouldn’t have before) - and so, you had certainly taken advantage of that. You enjoyed a night where you could get him in bed without having to gag him or shove his face into a pillow in order to assure his silence. 

You had indulged in his sounds, in fact. 

You had spent the night with him tied to the bed, curious about how many times you could make him cum before his body outright gave up. The answer to that burning question was four, which was a record for him. After the forth orgasm spurted up over his belly, covering him in even more mess, you continued to milk him through it and his softening dick gave you nothing but pathetic clear drips of non-cum - he wept and begged you to stop, threatening that he might pass out from the efforts. 

With the satisfaction of the answer under your belt, and taking in the sight of him so debauched one last time, you finally untied him. And then he spent some time between your thighs, enjoying a reward for being such a good boy, shoving his tongue deep inside of you while the morning sun warmed the curtains, signifying that the two of you had truly been at it all night. 

The two of you eventually slept for a few hours in the morning. After waking up from the haze, you had peeled yourself out from under his heavy grip on your waist when you read the numbers on the digital clock sitting on his nightstand, seeing that it was almost noon - Abby would need to be picked up from her friend’s house soon, and you wanted a shower while Mike was still asleep. 

The last thing you were expecting was to emerge from the shower to the sounds of him getting off yet again. One thing you knew for certain since you had started fucking him - he was insatiable. He was seemingly always horny the moment that he got you behind closed doors. (And often, he couldn’t even wait to get you behind closed doors - something you loved, even if it was inconvenient.) But you thought that a night like last night would tire out the libido of someone even as horny as him. 

But you liked a challenge. 

If he wanted his cock to be truly sore, if he wanted his balls so thoroughly drained - then you would pin him to the bed and ride him with harshness and haste before you had to go pick Abby up. It would be a waste of a shower, but you usually found the feeling of his cum sticking to the inside of your underwear to be a fond one. 

“Mikey,” You called out the playful nickname as you walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. 

You had a towel wrapped around your chest - mostly to keep the chill of the air off you and to keep your wet body from dripping all over the carpet. Modesty wasn’t really a thing between you and Mike, not when you were so intensely familiar with each other’s naked bodies now. 

At the sound of your voice, Mike let out a choked sound, and you saw his movements pause - which was entirely strange. It’s not like you hadn’t seen his naked cock before. It’s not like you hadn’t seen him masturbate before - several times, you had him do so just for your viewing pleasure. 

If he wasn’t allowed to touch himself as a punishment, you always told him so very clearly. But last night, you made no such rule. You simply expected that he wouldn’t want to after the thorough fucking you had given him. So you had to wonder why he was trying to hide from you. 

You walked to stand on his side of the bed, and he stared at you with wide, startled eyes, covering his hard cock with both hands. The sheet was draped around his thighs, revealing his nakedness, as well as showing off the many purpling bite marks that you had left on his chest, stomach, hips and thighs the night before. He was an absolutely perfect picture of sweet debauchery that you would hold fondly in your mind forever. 

“Baby, what are you doing?” You inquired gently, entirely curious as to why he had stopped. “You don’t have to hide from me.” 

“I - I thought you would be in the shower… longer.” He breathed out, pure guilt on his voice. It was almost adorable, seeing how he could go from fucked-out and begging to completely shy about his own desires. 

“I would have invited you to join me in the shower if I knew you wanted more,” You chuckled, stepping forward and running your fingers through his hair, petting him like the sweet puppy that he was. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?” 

Mike leaned into the touch, closing his eyes - the surge of soft pleasure that your simple touch pushed through him caused his arms to go loose, dropping away from shielding his crotch. This made him inadvertently drop something onto the sheets that he had been hiding from you in his closed fist. 

You noticed the ruffle of what sounded like paper and saw the object fall out of the corner of your eye. So you abandoned gently stroking your fingers across his scalp in favor of investigating what it was. 

Mike’s eyes widened in horror and he froze up, completely stiff as you picked up the polaroid picture, and raised it up to get a better look at it. 

Immediately, you knew it was a picture of yourself. 

You knew that Mike had a collection of dirty shots of you. It had only been a few weeks into your sex life when he had pulled out the camera and shyly asked to take pictures of you. You had bargained that he could take as many as he wanted, if you could take some photos of him in return. He kept his pictures of you in a shoebox under his bed and you kept yours in a special jewelry box on your vanity. 

But this picture wasn’t one that you recognized. 

It was your ass - a shot of your dress pulled up from behind, revealing you wearing a simple pair of cotton panties (not something you would have worn for the other ‘photoshoots’, not some impressive lingerie). In the photo, your legs were lazily parted, revealing the way the underwear was slightly caught between the lips of your cunt, even showing your pubes sticking out slightly from the fabric. If you weren’t mistaken, based on the color, that was Mike’s couch you were laying on. 

But when had the photo been taken? 

“Look, Y/N, please, I’m so sorry-” Mike swallowed harshly, desperate to get some air into his lungs as he begged for your forgiveness. “You were just so pretty - and - and - I couldn’t help myself. I know it was awful, just - please, please, don’t be mad.” 

That was when it clicked in your mind. 

You recognized the pattern on the fabric of your dress. You had worn it on the first night you had babysat Abby for Mike - back when the two of you weren’t even dating yet. That night, you had fallen asleep on the couch after you put Abby to bed. And later in the night, you thought nothing of it when you saw Mike’s polaroid camera sitting on a random side table when it hadn’t been there before. It hadn’t even crossed your mind as suspicious after he had woken you up, thanked you for helping out, and let you out the front door for the night. 

That dirty little pervert. 

You resisted the urge to grin at this realization, putting on a stony face and faking anger. You couldn’t have him thinking that this action would pass without punishment. Even if you heavily enjoyed the idea of being a perverted little admirer of you before the two of you even got together. 

You reached over and put your hand on the back of his head, this time digging sharp nails into his hair in a fierce, unforgiving grip instead of petting him so gently. He winced as this, and you noticed a distinct bit of precum weeping out of his still hard cock at the action. You yanked on his head harshly, forcing him to look up at you while you turned the photo around and shoved it in his face. 

Instinctively, knowing that it would likely only make his punishment worse to oggle over his mistakes, he looked you dead in the eyes, resisting the temptation to stare at your ass in the photo. 

“When did you take this?” You asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting him to say it. To emphasize your words, you yanked on his hair again and jabbed the picture closer to his face. 

He breathed out harshly, but didn’t fight against your grip, keeping his large, glossy, guilty eyes staring up at you. 

“Look, I know I did a bad boy thing, I know it was bad, but please, please, I’ll make it up to you.” He begged so beautifully. “I’ll be a good boy, I’ll be a good boy for you, I promise.” 

His words were pitched soft with need, and it was a unique tone that made your stomach clench. As tempting as the offer was, you couldn’t go soft on him now. 

“Answer the question!” You pressed, tugging his neck back even harsher with your grip on his hair. 

“It - it was a long time ago!” He rushed to answer. “I - I shouldn’t have done it, I know that! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” 

“Why did you do it if you knew it was bad?” You asked. 

This was the most interesting question to you. The thing you were most curious about. 

You wondered why Mike felt the need to invade your privacy with something like this when you simply would have given in to his advances if he had asked. 

You had been attracted to Mike since you met him. The entire reason you had taken on the job of babysitting his sister was because you found him to be so intensely attractive, and you wanted to get to know him better. At the time, he was someone who seemed shy and generally anti-social, you yearned to be closer to him. That night, if you had woken up and caught him staring at your panties, you probably would have taken them off and given them to him as a gift just to see his reaction. 

You were too curious to know why he felt that he had to sneak such a dirty photo of you and to this day, even after all that the two of you had done together - still kept that photo a secret. 

“I - I -” 

Mike’s whining stutters were cut off by the sound of the phone ringing. 

You heaved out a sigh and let go of him. On your way along to answer it, you shoved the photo into your purse, which was sitting open on his dresser. He was curious as to why you chose to keep it from him rather than destroying it. He heard your voice brightly from down the hall as you answered the phone and spoke to whoever it was on the other end, and he tattered with nerves as he heard you walking back down the hall. 

“Get dressed.” You barked at him when you reentered the bedroom. “We have to go pick Abby up. We’ll finish talking about this later.” 

Later. That certainly left a lovely slice of doom hanging over his head. 

You had your back turned to him, picking clothes out of the drawer he had cleared for you in his dresser (one step closer to you moving in, he had thought wistfully while moving your stuff into that drawer) - but this left one thing on his mind. 

“Okay.” Mike croaked quietly. “How should I-?” 

He trailed off, and you turned back around with a tee shirt and panties in your hand to see him loosely gripping his still hard cock, slowly beginning to touch himself again. 

You realized that he was asking you how he should finish off, and this caused a wave of spite to roll through you. He thought he still deserved to cum. 

“I didn’t say anything about your dick.” You said, tone harsh and biting. “You don’t get to cum right now. I said get dressed, so get dressed.” 

You dropped your towel casually, moving to get dressed for yourself. This caused a whine from him as your nakedness was once again revealed - something he had seen so many times now that still caused his cock to throb and weep precum, his eyes utterly fixated on the tantalizing sway of your breasts as you leaned down to hook your feet into the fresh panties you had picked out. 

Mike let out a breathy whine, but took his hand off his cock. He looked at you with utterly pleading eyes, clearly wanting you to reconsider - but you wouldn’t budge from the subject. When he didn’t make a move to get up from the bed, you said something that you knew would put some urgency in him. 

“Don’t make me get the cage.” You threatened quietly. 

Mike was up in a moment, moving toward the bathroom to freshen up, eager to follow your instructions. His dick ached at the thought of the cock cage that you had gotten just for him - it was one of the most torturous punishments you had thought up yet. Sometimes he spent whole days with his dick trapped in the metal, unable to get hard, absolutely dizzying - making him silently resent the key worn around your neck that everyone else perceived as an innocent piece of jewelry. 

The two of you got ready for the day and the conflict was soon forgotten when you had Abby in the car. You took her for lunch at some cute little diner that one of your friends had recommended - Sparky’s - and while you ate, you listened to Abby chatter on excitedly about everything she and her friend had done the night before, including ordering pizza, watching a PG13 rated movie (which Mike pretended to disapprove of), painting their nails, and staying up all night telling ‘scary stories’. You were proud of how far she had come, sharing her imagination and joy with others and having some true friends of her own age now. 

After lunch, you and Mike had taken Abby to get some new shoes because she complained that hers were getting too small, and then after some browsing around the mall, it was time to go home and make dinner (if it wasn’t for you, those two would rarely eat anything that wasn’t pre-packaged). After dinner, you helped Abby work on a solar system project for school while Mike napped on the couch (and you couldn’t blame the guy, he had a tiring time the night before). 

You had since put Abby to bed, and busied yourself with cleaning up, glad that Mike was still asleep while you did the dishes. It always pleased you when he slept well - one of the reasons you liked to wear him out with sex was because it was a more natural sleep aid than his medication, and caused him to have a deeper, dreamless sleep without the stupid nightmares. You were more focused on the tasks in front of you than thinking about any possible punishment you might give him over it. 

The fact that Mike had taken a pervy photo of you was all but forgotten in your mind even as you were cleaning up the kitchen later that night. 

The photo and the controversy, the burning questions you had about it only came back to mind as you were attempting to scrub a combination of dried glitter glue and pasta sauce off the table and you noticed Mike not-so-subtly creeping around behind you - attempting to reach into your purse. 

He was trying to take the photo back. 

You quickly tossed down the cloth you had been using to clean up and moved toward Mike instead. You were on him before he could blink, taking his wrist in a bruising grip before his hand could successfully come out of your purse with the photo. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, even though you already knew exactly what he was up to. 

With your thumb pushing harshly into the pulse point of his wrist, and your eyes glaring daggers into his - he was quickly becoming light-headed and soft, the way he always did whenever you were on top of him or when you called him baby boy in that fond, sweet way that you often did. He couldn’t conjure up any real explanation, not when he was feeling this way. 

All he could manage was: 

“But - it’s mine.” He breathed out softly, almost a whiny protest - as if you had taken one of his most precious toys and stashed it away because he had misbehaved. 

In a sense, that was exactly what you had done. 

You could only imagine how many times he had masturbated to the photo before you had caught him. How many times had he cum, looking at that picture of your barely covered ass and pussy before the two of you even got together? Before he even saw you naked for the first time? How many times did he make himself cum when that was his only source of sexual material for his fantasies around you? 

It was these burning questions and the thumping ache between your thighs that spurred your next move. 

You used your hold on his wrist to handle him how you pleased, knowing that a little bit of pain made him so easily pliant to your wills. You shoved him into the small kitchen and shoved him up against one of the counters, beside where your purse was sitting, and he huffed out a quiet whine as you trapped him there. You easily caged him in with one of your hands on either side of his waist, slotting your legs around his so that your thigh was right up against his denim clad crotch. 

You pressed forward slightly with your knee, applying a slight bit of pressure that might be painful on his tender cock and balls (especially after last night). But the roughness of the hard seam of his jeans pressing against his tender flesh, even through his underwear, only lit sparks through him and added to that soft, mushy headspace that he was in. 

He refused to look at you now, shifting his gaze off to the side as you pressed further into his personal space, pressing your nose against the side of his unshaven face. 

“It’s yours?” You posed in response to what he had said, your tone utterly mocking. “It’s yours, is it?” 

You reached off to the side and flawlessly grabbed the photo inside your bag without looking (the texture of a polaroid very unique to feel for) - and you held it up in his view, forcing him to look at it while you spoke again. 

“Then surely, you can explain to me how a good boy like you came to own something like this,” You said, your voice dripping with satire toward the ‘good boy’ title he had given himself earlier that day. 

“I’m sorry,” He whimpered, clearly apologetic about the subject. But- 

“That doesn’t explain how you got this, baby.” You told him, clicking your tongue in a scolding manner. “Come on, tell me about it.” 

You used a hand to grab him by both cheeks between your fingers, forcing him to look at you while he explained it. 

“I - I took it.” He admitted quietly. “I took a picture of you. When you weren’t looking. When you were… sleeping.” 

Again, something you already knew. But it was more satisfying to hear him say it, especially with the sharp bob of his throat as he gulped around his fear. 

“You just looked so pretty, I - I couldn’t help myself.” He whispered, clearly timid to admit his lack of self control. 

Though him lacking self control around you was an intense turn-on for you. 

“After everything I’ve given you, you just had to go and take. You had to be a greedy, filthy, bad boy,” You scolded him sharply. 

“It was different then.” He said quietly. “Then… I - I thought I couldn’t have you. I thought you wouldn’t give me anything at all. I - I didn’t think you’d ever want to fuck me.” 

“Oh?” You huffed quietly, your breath puffing out across his cheek, surprised by this revelation. “So you took this picture because you wanted a filthy little piece of me? You didn’t think I’d ever touch your pathetic needy cock so you had to perv on me in secret, huh?” 

He let out a sharp whine at this. It was rare that you degraded him so harshly, rather than praising him sweetly. Surely enough, even if it was unconsciously fueled by lust, his hips bucked toward you, dragging his cock along your thigh, still trapped inside of his jeans and rapidly hardening from the state of the conversation. 

“Look, I’m sorry-” 

“If you say ‘sorry’, one more time, I’m gonna spank you so fucking hard that you won’t be able to sit down for a week.” You threatened, your voice low and dark. 

He let out a whimper at this, and you weren’t entirely sure if the idea appealed to him or sounded like a true threat. He didn’t tempt you by speaking up again, so you continued. 

“Enough with the sorries.” You told him sharply. “How many times did you jack off to this picture without telling me? How often did you look at it, touching your hard, needy dick and thinking about what my cunt might feel like? Huh? Tell me, baby.” 

Mike jutted his hips again, grinding his hard cock against your thigh. 

“Please-” He croaked out. 

Clearly, he was begging for you to release him from the conversation, and to attend to his aching dick. But you didn’t have plans to do either. 

“If you want me to touch you again anytime soon, you’re going to get off against my thigh.” You demanded harshly. “Or you’re not going to get off at all.” 

Mike let out a pathetic, warbling whine in protest, sounding a lot like a kicked puppy. But still, he began to move more consistently against your leg - you stiffened your muscles on purpose and raised your thigh tighter against him, pushing your leg further into his crotch. This movement forced a puff of air from his lungs as you put more pressure on his hard cock. 

“And you’re going to answer my questions.” You added on, reaching behind him and grabbing his hair like you had earlier that day, knowing that a tight tug on his roots would certainly make him more pliant. 

“Ah! O-okay!” He shouted in return, and you hushed him gently. 

“When were you gonna tell me that you’re a dirty little pervert?” You asked, a mocking laughter dancing in your voice. 

Mike started up a rhythm as he fucked himself on your thigh. He whined in the back of his throat, his brow creasing - partially from the heat stirring in his gut and partially from the embarrassment of your interrogation - before he managed an answer. 

“I - I wasn’t.” He answered honestly. 

“How many other secret pervy pictures do you have of me?” You asked. 

“N-none!” He was quick to respond, eager to clear himself of this guilt. 

He definitely wasn’t going to tell you about the pair of your panties that he had stolen the first time he was over at your place. He also wasn’t going to mention the fact that he had snooped in your bathroom to see what brand of shampoo you used and bought the same one just so he could have your scent on tap. He didn’t need you thinking that he was totally pathetic.  

“Don’t lie to me!” You demanded, giving a sharp tug on his hair. 

“‘m not! I’m not! That’s the only one!” He slurred out, becoming more hazy and pleasure drunk as he ground himself harder into your thigh and his cock leaked into his underwear. His brain was absolutely fuzzy from the streaks of pain coming off his scalp when you pulled on his hair like that. 

“How many times have you jerked off to the picture?” You asked. 

More than once a week since he had taken it. It was his favorite guilty pleasure. 

Earlier that day, he hadn’t even meant to take out the photo and jerk off to it. He had been more than satisfied with everything that happened the night before. But when he had opened his nightstand looking for his watch to put it on for the day, and the photo fell from its place stuck underneath the drawer (a perfect hiding place, in his mind). And just like when he had taken the photo, as soon as he saw you so perfectly posed there, he just couldn’t help himself. The sight of your panties sticking out from under your dress just got to him. 

His cock was hard in seconds and next thing he knew, he was sitting there pumping his cock in one hand and holding the picture in the other, listening for the sound of the shower running and hoping he would finish before you did. 

Something about you was so absolutely intoxicating to him, sent his brain back to caveman levels of hormonal and caused him to make the stupidest dick-driven decisions ever. 

“Mommy,” He begged quietly. “Mommy, please.” 

Your stomach clenched - it was a name he used in an attempt to soften you up, trying to make you pliant to his big eyes and whimpering breaths. 

He grabbed both of your hips and tried shoving his face into your neck to hide himself as his hips stuttered against your leg, humping hopelessly like a needy puppy. You yanked him back by the hair before he could fully hide himself and he exhaled in a needy, simpering tone, deflating like a balloon as his shoulders sagged. For a moment, he stopped the movement of his hips altogether - as if expecting you to take over in some way and make him cum. 

“Mommy is only sweet to good boys.” You whispered in his ear. “Mommy punishes dirty little bad boys who can’t take their head out of their dick long enough to behave.” 

He squeezed out a hot breath, seemingly deflating more. You used your free hand to grab his hip, and began guiding him to hump along your thigh once again. 

“Come on, baby.” You encouraged him. “If you don’t cum like this, you don’t get to come for a week.” You gave a gentle warning. “Are you gonna be a good boy? Or are you a stupid little perv? Hmm?” 

The harsh degradation behind your words, the motivation for him to be seen as a good boy in your eyes - that truly got him going again. 

“I’m a good boy.” He said quietly, fucking himself against you, moaning quietly as the friction caused sharp tingles against his cock. “I’m - I’m a good boy.” 

“Show me.” You told him firmly. “Show me what a good boy does.” 

“Please,” He breathed out. “Fuck, Mommy. Please!” 

You knew that he needed more, and you did pity him to an extent - so you gave another tug on his hair and slipped your other hand under the back of his shirt, raking your nails across his back, making claw marks that you knew he loved. The stinging feeling of your nails biting into his skin causing pure sparks that sent heat straight between his thighs. When you leaned in and sharply bit his neck, that truly sent him over the edge, causing him to lose all sense of rhythm and having him bucking wildly, mindlessly against your thigh as he flooded the inside of his underwear with cum. 

“Fuck! Y/N!” He shouted. 

“Shut up!” You bit back. 

You stood back up to your full height, shoving your fingers between his lips to gag him. You knew that you had to be mindful of his volume when she was so deep in it, so absolutely lost in the pleasurable haze that he didn’t care how loud he was being. 

He rode out his orgasm gagging slightly with your fingers pressed against his tongue, his eyes tightly screwed shut, a light sweat gathered on his brow as he continued to hump against your leg, carrying himself through it. 

After a few moments, Mike’s rattling moans turned into harsh, open-mouthed pants around your fingers as he caught his breath, and you eased your fingers out of his mouth, enjoying the thread of spit that came off his lips far too much. 

When he collapsed his head onto your shoulder this time, you let him. 

“You’re - you’re not really mad about the picture, are you?” He asked, gently huffing the words into your shirt as he struggled to catch his breath. “Because if-” 

“I’m not mad about it.” You clarified, moving your hand from under his shirt to pet through his hair calmly, wanting to reassure him of this. “In fact, I think it’s pretty hot.” 

“Really?” He asked, his gaze shooting up to inspect your expression, almost not believing your words. Even though you were always very honest and transparent when communicating your feelings to him. 

“Yes.” You answered honestly. “I think it’s hot that you found me so attractive from the moment we met.” 

“‘Attractive’ is a bit of an understatement.” He mumbled quietly in response. 

Interesting.

[noffy96]

Old Moon & Dazzle fic

Do i love the 'Sun hopefully adopts Dazzle' headcanon. Yes to bits, But If he is. Then Dazzle get's a whole new family. And I wanted to explore Moon's side of that for a small bit. So here you go.

Uncle Moon

Word count: 2,510

Chapter 1 ( Complete)

Summary

“Hey, you alright?”

Dazzle shook her head,

“I-i know…it’s late…and I am not…supp- supposed to be awake. But…But”

He stopped himself from taking another step closer, as she ducked her head down. More tears were obviously falling.

“But…I…I..is…Is Sun home?”

or

When Sun is out grocery shopping, Moon finds Dazzle, who has just woken up from a nightmare and looking for Sun. Is he gonna be able to handle this on his own

--link here to AO3--

or continue below the read more line

He blinked open his eyes with a groan. He had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for his brother. With Dazzle and Jack moving in, the need to buy groceries had increased dramatically. His brother of course had plans to buy some food, but a portal malfunction had sent them both away for most of the day.

They just didn’t have the time to do anything else, But they would still need the food in the morning with his own increased appetite as well as Dazzle’s growing one. Sun said he would just do some bulk shopping now at the weird kmart that was always open. So they wouldn’t have to come back for a few days.

He had just been waiting up, maybe a little bit paranoid about his brother's safety with the portal shenanigans happening today. But he was gonna do better and not demand that he stay. It would make Sun feel better and not do something stupid like sneak out. And this way, someone was home with Dazzle and Jack as Lunar was out dealing with something astral-related.

He heard a creak of stairs and he sat up straight, wondering if that was what woke him up in the first place. Switching on his old security programming. Getting off the couch as softly as possible so it didn’t make a sound. He tried to sneak towards the stairs.

That was until he heard a soft quiet sob. As he quickly shut the protocols off, his chest filled with a whole new kind of dread and softly called out.

“Dazzle?”

He heard a soft gasp that confirmed his suspension, So instead of being quiet, he made sure the bells on his outfit let out a little ding as he approached, as he turned the corner and saw the little animatronic deer halfway down the steps. Holding onto the bannister tightly. Her eyes were wide and filled with tears. Along with the signs of tears tracks.

His chest clenched harder. Old protocols long abandoned and unused were trying to make him run towards her. Scoop her up and soothe her. To calm her down. He fought them down, not wanting to scare the poor kid.

He grabbed the bannister pole.

“Hey, you alright?”

Dazzle shook her head,

“I-i know…it’s late…and I am not…supp- supposed to be awake. But…But”

He stopped himself from taking another step closer, as she ducked her head down. More tears were obviously falling.

“But…I…I..is…Is Sun home?”

She changed her sentence, and fuck if the whole scene. Had not already shaken at his cold heart, to hear her so brokenly ask for his brother certainly did it. There was another sob

“I knocked on his door, but he didn’t answer….and then I went in to see if he was sleeping. I know I sho-should wait..bu-but…I was scared..and I just…”

Her hands let go of the railing and started scrubbing her eyes and sobbing. Before he knew it he was up the few steps to reach her, crouching down in front of her.

“Hey, now. You did nothing wrong, Dazzle. Why were you scared?… Did you have a bad dream?”

Dazzle nodded

His fans vented out some air of relief. Happy it was nothing more serious.

“Sun should be home soon, wanna sit with me and wait for him?”

Maybe he should tell her it was okay. Or find out what the dream was. But Sun was better at handling that sort of stuff. He could put kids to sleep. But…he hadn’t done so in a very, VERY long time. And besides he didn’t want her to feel bad for trying to seek help. He’ll ask Sun how to handle this in the future if it happens again.

For now, he could at least distract her.

“R-really, I am not in trouble…for being up after bedtime?”

He shook his head, and gently reached out for her hands taking them away from her face and squeezing them softly

“No, of course not. Why don’t we watch something, hmm? Anything you want, While we wait.”

He gently encouraged her to move down the stairs, and they slowly made their way back to the couch he had initially fallen asleep on.

“Could we watch Bluey? “

“Of course, we can Dazzle,”

“And you are not gonna ask about my nightmare?”

“That is up to you if you want to tell me, but I think you'd rather tell Sun first right?”

Dazzle made a little hum. As she climbed onto the couch he turned on the TV. He grabbed a blanket that was tossed over one of the chairs and warped it around her. And she blinked at him, surprised.

“No reason to be cold while waiting, Is there an episode you want to watch?”

He asked her as he turned on their TV and navigated towards the streaming service he thought held Bluey…he hoped he had remembered it correctly.

“The one where they call their cousins on the tablet? I think it’s pretty funny. Muffin reminds me of Jack sometimes”

He laughed at her remark, and he was happy to see the corners of her mouth move up slightly too. He nodded as he sat down scrolling through the shows,

“And Dazzle?”

“Y-yeah?”

“If there is anything else you want, just ask, okay. I’ll do my best to get it. No problem”

Dazzle went quiet, and he let out a little sigh of relief as he saw the show pop up. He sat back on the couch again,

“Moon?”

He paused before pressing play and turned to face the small deer. There were still some tears in his eyes, and she looked a bit unforgettable. As if scared. Soothing out his voice the best he could

“Yes, what is it?”

“Can I…can I sit in your lap so…so that..so that I know I am safe from the monster”

The question almost made him feel like he got slapped in the face. But he was somehow quick enough to answer her with a calm tone.

“Of course you can.”

He shifted back more, and after some awkward bit of shuffling, he was holding the deer animatronic to his chest. One arm wrapped around her middle to keep her secure, as he pressed play to start the show.

He had planned to just absentmindedly watch the children's show. But right now his thoughts were more focused on Dazzle. She had clearly taken a shine to Sun, people having already joked here and there. That his brother had basically adopted her and become a parent.

Sun also didn’t seem to deny this statement. But would correct people if they called him her father. If he knew his brother, that was because he didn’t want to replace her actual father. Who might still be out there. Even if he never knew what had become of his daughter. Sun wouldn’t want to take his place.

In the time that Dazzle had been here. They had gotten closer too, not strange as they lived together now. But he didn’t think she trusted him this much. He was still kind of a stranger to her.

She listened if he asked something, but he didn’t think she trusted him like this. Of course, it was because Sun was not here. But still. He was doing something right at least if the kid didn’t hate him.

As the episodes went on, Dazzle slowly went from still crying a bit, to being calm. occasionally laughing at the show but still feeling quite tense. Whatever her dream had been, it clearly was still on her mind.

Slowly ever, so slowly he raised his free hand and started to calmly run it over her back in a soothing motion. Dazzle let out a purely mechanical chirp, which he responded to in a soft croon. And with every swipe, he felt Dazzle lean more and more against him.

He tilted his head down and saw her slowly close her eyes. Slowly nodding off. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. If he should let her fall asleep or keep her awake. Either way, he’d tell Sun what had happened. IT was scratching an old itch somewhere deep in his code though, seeing her fall asleep.

The show stopped playing with a ‘Are you still there’ message appearing on screen. Then suddenly, from deep inside his chest, a soft lullaby started playing. It surprised him, he didn’t think he’d still have the music box installed in his chest.

But Dazzle didn’t seem to mind, slowly seemingly falling into a deeper sleep. As he tugged the blanket around her more securely she mumbled something.

“Go to sleep kid, I’ll keep you safe until Sun is here”

“Okay, thank you, Uncle Moon”

His eyes widened, as he pulled the air across his fans in a gasp. Dazzle falling into a deeper sleep. He tried to think, tried to process. But all he could do was stare forward,

UncleMoonUncleMoonUncleMoonUncleMoon

Repeating over and over again inside his head. He had never been anything other than a brother. And that he had screwed over big time. He was still repairing his relationship with Sun. Lunar was still distant from him and was still in the process of getting to know Earth.

So too have this new title, suddenly thrown in his lap. He wasn’t sure what to do with it. He moved to keep gently stroking the child's back. Maybe…maybe it was a good thing. Something to start completely clean.

A relationship he didn’t need to repair or start over. Or attached to the baggage of his other self. No…he could be an uncle. He would be the best damn uncle there was.

He heard the front door open, and his brother struggled with dragging in the groceries. But the second Sun spotted him he left the bags in the foyer to come closer. And he could hear the cameras go off behind his eyes.

He raised his eyebrow at him, but considering he did the same when Dazzle stayed the first night. He supposed he couldn’t complain. He texted his brother so as to not wake Dazzle with their voices.

‘She just fell back asleep, nightmare, was looking for you’

His brother's emotes went through several different ones, not being able to settle onto one. As he slowly moved closer.

‘Jack not here?’

He got a text back, and he sent a shrug emoticon back. As Sun stood beside them, adjusting the blanket around Dazzle onces before pulling back

‘Did she say anything about the nightmare’

He carefully shook his head

‘Only something about a monster when she asked for me to hold her’

Sun let out a soft crooning noise,

‘We’ll see if she remembers when she wakes up, anything else?’

He hesitated for a brief second. Not sure what he should say, but he needed Sun’s opinion on this as her primary caretaker.

‘She called me Uncle Moon’

Sun let out a soft gentle whirr as he hesitated to meet his brother's gaze.

‘I’m not surprised’

Was the text he got, and heard Sun let out a nervous chuckle.

‘If you don’t want her to call you that, you can ask her to stop’

‘NO’

He texted back a bit too quickly and he saw Sun basically whip his head around to face him. As his face started to glow lighty feeling embarrassed.

‘I’m okay with it, just wondering if you were’

Sun moved his hands around like he did when he was spluttering and having a hard time getting his thoughts out. Eventually, he got a text

‘Not really up to me…it’s her choice’

He gave his brother a stare, the same one he always did when he felt like his brother was understating how much he meant to Dazzle. And how much the little girl had grown on his brother as well. He wasn’t lying when he told Sun that he was a good parent to the children he took care of. Not only in the daycare.

He got why Sun hesitated to take the title of Dad. But as far as he was concerned. Sun was her parent. And Sun, despite his nerves knew this too and took that role seriously.

Sun faltered slightly before letting out a deep sigh.

‘I have nothing against it. Just be sure to fulfil that role as best you can'

He felt a slight pang of hurt at the text. Knowing how much he still had to make up to Sun for. That his brother was at least a little bit afraid he might hurt her as he did him.

‘I have every intention to, could you maybe later teach me how to better handle it if she gets a nightmare again?’

‘I think you did pretty good Moon, if she fell asleep on you’

He gently stroked Dazzle’s back once more who had been sleeping soundly but he could still feel that she was not as relaxed as she could have been.

‘I think that was more exhaustion, I think she’d been crying longer than it took her to get out of her room. I wish I could have calmed her more before she fell asleep. Cause it doesn’t feel like she’ll get a restful one’

Sun nodded with a sad expression.

‘Okay then, I see what I can do…I’ll put the groceries away now’

He gave a nod and listened to the sounds his brother made as he put everything away. As well as focusing on the quiet breaths of the animatronic in his arms. She twitched once and he made some soft shushing noises. Glowing again as he realised that his music box had still been playing.

But now that Sun was home, he felt something relaxed inside of him. His own eyes fell shut once more, Sun bustling becoming a background noise. He didn’t realise he was falling asleep. Until he felt the click of a charging cable being put into the back of his head. With another quiet click, he assumed the same was done to dazzle. There was something being wrapped around his shoulders and he felt too warm and toasty to open his eyes again.

The couch dipped slightly beside him. A hand softly squeezing his shoulder gratefully, as he heard Sun murmur something softly to Dazzle he couldn’t understand.

‘Thanks, Moon, for taking care of her’

Came a final text, and he couldn’t help the odd sense of pride at it.

Seems he had gotten a niece. hah…A niece. Never thought that would happen. He squeezed her a bit closer. He was gonna be the best damn uncle he could be. He didn’t have to worry. He was sure his brother would help him. He wasn’t gonna fuck up another family relationship.

He felt Sun’s head hit the edge of his shoulder, seemingly having fallen asleep himself.

They got this.

He was sure of it

[itsohh]

Cold

A/N: G/N reader, so I ended up writing out that idea I had in that one ask I mentioned.

Summary: After being separated from Price during a mission you're left to fend off the freezing cold by yourself. Finally reunited with him, he does everything he can to help warm you up from your hypothermic state.

Word count: 1073

Warnings: Angst

AO3 Masterlist

Radio silent. All he received back was static. The winds howled outside while the snow continued its assault. The pair of you had been separated with the agreement to regroup back at the safe house. A small cabin.

Yet you never came.

John wanted to go out to look for you, to find you and ease the torment in his worried heart. He knew better. With the thick storm around him, it would be pointless. The likelihood of him seeing something even a few metres in front of him was slim to none let alone being able to conduct a proper search.

So, with the fire set up, he stayed at the window. The thermal scope was his only way to see through the thick billowing weather. His hand found the radio once again. "Sergeant, do you read me?" Once again his ears were only met with static. Then he saw something. Almost impossible to see but it was a higher temperature than everything else. Not particularly high but enough for him to notice.

The shape came over the horizon and he could better see it. A person. He had no way of knowing whether or not it was you but that didn't stop him. John slung his gun over his shoulder and headed out into the snow. It made it hard to move, each step slow but he continued on. For the sake of his own safety, he held a pistol in one hand. Just in case.

A breath left his mouth when he finally got close. It was you, that was for sure. He paused only for a second and saw your form. Blood had drained from your face and gave it a rather lifeless blue undertone. Your eyes were hazy, unfocused when they settled on him. What was the most concerning was the fact you had stripped away almost all your clothing only left in your underwear. Gear, guns, all of it gone. "Shit." He swore and holstered his pistol before he took off the gun on his back and then his jacket.

He slung the gun back on and quickly put his long jack over you. Yes, it was cold but he would live. That wasn't a certainty for you at that moment. A whine protested from your lips as he secured the jacket around you. "Stop I don't want it." Your voice slurred out as you made weak attempts to push it away. "It's too hot." Each touch you made against John's skin was like ice and slowly you stopped. No energy to fight.

"Your freezing cold, we need to warm you up." You let out a whine at his voice and slumped against him. How you had managed to walk this far in such a state amazed him and he picked you up in a bridal carry. John knew he had to get you inside as quickly as possible.

John pushed through the snow, you in his arms until he slammed open the cabin door. He closed it behind him with his foot and immediately brought you down in front of the fire. You were still awake and let out a little protest at the fire's warmth. John let go of you for a moment and went to go snatch all the blankets from the bedrooms.

When he came back you had managed to undo part of the jacket and move away from the fire. He came down next to you. "Stop. You need to warm up, that's an order."

"Don't give a fuck 'bout your stupid orders." Almost like it came from a child, your speech barely came out of your mouth and continued your disruptive behaviour. The beanie on his head was ripped off and he put it over your head to try and stop any warmth you gained from leaving your head. John pulled you in-between in legs so that your back made contact with his chest. With you secured, he pulled the blankets around the pair of you and he felt your body go limp against him.

John whispered out your name and your head rolled against his chest. Over your shoulder, he lightly tapped your cheek with his hand. "Hey, hey, hey. Wake up. Don't fall asleep on me." Prices' voice pleaded, begging you. Yet, you gave him no response.

"Bloody fucking hell, don't do this to me. Come on." He held you tighter with one arm. John put his free hand just in front of your mouth and nose where he could only feel the faintest of breaths. "Stay with me, don't stop breathing. Your safe now, just warm up for me. Warm up for me." He spoke to your unconscious body, desperately trying to get keep it together. He knew he had to have a clear mind. To think straight, you were relying on him to do so.

His hand went to your neck to search for a pulse. It was still there but so incredibly slow. John kept his fingers there, a small relief each time he felt that pulse. "If you stay with me here I'll do anything. Just… keep breathing for me." His voice was quiet. John knew you couldn't hear him but hoped perhaps deep down in your unconscious state that it would encourage you to keep fighting.

"I'll force Laswell to finally let us have that time off for our wedding. You wanted the boys there, I'll make sure they can make it. We can go wherever you want, Love." He swallowed and stayed silent for a second when he couldn't feel your pulse. Every second felt like a lifetime and he was just about to move for CPR when he felt that faint pulse. He let out the breath he had been holding and continued.

"Get a month off for a honeymoon. How does that sound? I'm sure you will be sick of me by then." John let out a pained laugh. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, you were still like ice. "I'd never get sick of you. Best thing to ever happen to me. Don't deserve someone like you." He pressed a kiss against your head. "But I'm a selfish man. Let me have this one thing, let me have you by my side. Stay with me."

"I'm a selfish old bastard but don't you go dying on me." John shut his eyes and mentally counted every second between your heartbeats.

"Please."

[the-californicationist]

The Advent Calendar

Ghoap TW: anal sex --- MDNI/18+ NO EXCEPTIONS AO3 Link I don't write Ghoap, but this was a request from a friend, so please don't be mean to me.

Summary:

Soap gave Ghost an advent calendar this year. Every day was a new surprise - socks, hard cheese, the usual. Everything was normal until Christmas Eve rolled around and Ghost opened the last box to find it empty. He calls up the muppet to chastise him for his mistake, only to hear the phone ringing outside of his door. 

Day one had been a sensible pair of socks, day two was a simple pocket knife, and day three had been a flint striker — all very practical and well-intentioned. Ghost had been chuffed to even receive such a gift from Soap, and every day he pulled another token from his advent calendar, he felt a little closer to his favorite sergeant. But, there was a small, minor, not-worth-mentioning dilemma: Ghost was falling in love with him. 

Johnny’s flirtations had started off so unassuming, so bland, even, that it had been relatively easy for the Lieutenant to maintain a low profile with his crush. When he first met the sergeant, he’d been more annoyed than anything, thinking he would have to train the loud-mouthed Scot in the field. But, Johnny had proven himself ten-fold. His demolition expertise was top-notch, and he was as brave as a soldier could be.

Then, they had been trapped together in a Russian bunker for a night, and Ghost had seen… all of him. He was beautiful. His wide chest, the broad expanse of his strong back, those thick thighs leading up to his ass. Fuck, it was all so delicious. Ghost wanted to bury his face between those legs for days and days and days. But, he was the man’s superior officer, so he tried to restrain himself. 

However, Johnny was dangerously flirty. He’d started to tease Ghost about his mask, sneaking a thick finger under the edge of the fabric, touching his cheek through the cloth. Johnny would even start undressing in front of him now, claiming that he’d seen it all already, and there was no harm done. He would bend over just enough for Ghost to see the flushed outline of his hole. The lieutenant had even caught Johnny staring at his cock in the showers, looking like he was starving for it. 

Johnny’s advent calendar had started the same way… misleadingly safe until it wasn’t. A knife is nice, but it was no rose bouquet, so it was easy for Ghost to shrug it off. However, day thirteen had been… naughty. 

“What the fuck is this, Sergeant?” Ghost asked. 

He’d brought the gift into the locker room on base and held the thick, silicone ring between his fingers, peering one masked eye through the hole. 

Johnny had turned beet red, glancing over his shoulder,

“Christ, mate! It’s a wee cockring. Dinnae go flashin’ tha’ around.”

After that, Ghost had been a little more careful opening the gifts. However, he’d been using the cockring regularly, and now he craved it; jacking off without it seemed… bland somehow. It was a great gift for him, and one he never would have tried on his own. 

Day fourteen had helped provide some inspiration, though, as it was a very artistic nude Polaroid of Soap in nothing but a pair of reindeer antlers. 

Day seventeen was the last, and largest, of three anal plugs. Day twenty was a tingling bottle of lube, and day twenty-three was a smartphone-controlled dildo. 

Now, on the last day, when Ghost opened his twenty-fourth gift, he was shaking a bit. Johnny’s advent calendar had worked him up to a froth, and it was clear that Johnny was making sure Ghost knew how he felt about him. The prospect of being with Soap in any real sense was pushing Ghost beyond the pale.

There was a sudden and deadly disappointment, however, when twenty-four turned up… empty. 

Ghost dug through the other boxes, making sure he didn’t miss it in the pile. He checked the truck, and he even went out to the mailbox. He couldn’t understand why there would be a 24th box with nothing inside of it. He flipped through his contacts until he landed on Soap’s name.

The phone rang, and Simon thought he could hear it out in the hall of his apartment.

It rang again, and sure enough, it was ringing just outside of his door. 

“What the fuck?” Simon grumbled, yanking open the door. 

Johnny was standing there in a slutty Santa costume, complete with hat and suspenders. He had his phone in his hand, looking like he was ready to pick it up until Simon surprised him. 

“Hey, LT. Lookin’ for number twenty-four?”

Johnny turned to the side so Simon could see the glittery gold number 24 painted on the ass of his tiny Santa shorts.

“Thought you didn’t know how to count,” Simon quipped. 

Johnny rolled his eyes and pushed his way into the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“It’s me. I’m twenty-four.”

Ghost’s heart skipped a beat. The look on Johnny’s face was deadly earnest, and he could tell that his pupils were blown wide with desire. Simon stepped closer to him, running a long finger under his fabric suspenders, the only thing holding the shorts on his body. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and so every time Ghost rubbed the strap, the backs of his knuckles would graze across Soap’s soft nipple, making it peak for him. 

Johnny swallowed hard, staring up at his lieutenant,

“Aren’t you gonna unwrap your present, sir?”

Simon pulled down the suspender straps, and that was all it took. Soap was fully nude in his foyer except for a bright red Santa hat, smiling up at him. All the air had rushed out of the room, and all that was left was Johnny. Ghost put his hand back at Johnny’s nipple, teasing him gently, stepping forward into his space. 

Johnny blushed a beautiful shade of pink and closed his eyes to heighten the feeling, 

“Fuck, LT. Been wantin’ you for so fuckin’ long.”

“Been wanting you, too, Sergeant. Had me worked up to a bloody fuckin’ fever with these gifts of yours. Tryin’ to kill me?”

“Didnae expect you to hold back for so long, Si. Thought we’d get to the middle somewhere before you jumped me,” Johnny smirked, knowing he had gotten under his lieutenant’s skin. 

“Shouldn’t be doin’ this. I’m your lieutenant. It’s not right,” Ghost’s tone was serious and a little sad, but he rubbed his warm palms across Johnny’s chest as adoringly as a lover would, so Soap knew he was still on board. 

“Dinnae care, sir. I want you, and I’ll do anythin’ to get you.”

Ghost pressed his face into Soap’s pouty lips, kissing him deeply, forcing his tongue into his mouth. His jaw worked on him hungrily, and every kiss brought with it a tingling sensation, warm and bright, that filled Simon’s body with excitement. He felt his blood rush to be put to use, filling his cock and making him hard. 

Before Simon even knew what he was doing, Soap’s cock was in his hands, being rubbed and massaged to full length, swollen and ready for work. Then, tired of waiting, he bent to lift Johnny under his luscious thighs, and carried him to the bedroom, kicking in the door with a loud bang. 

“Christ, Johnny. Don’t you know what you’ve been doing to me?”

“I can feel what I’m doin’ to you, LT,” Johnny was kissing his neck and grinding his hips against Simon’s hard length. It was fighting to get through his gray sweatpants, his cockhead threatening to pop over the waistband. On every thrust up and down, Ghost felt the warmth of Johnny’s fat dick as it rolled over his belly, drooling wet on his skin. 

“Johnny…” Simon pleaded, laying his sergeant down on the bed while he stood at the edge of the mattress, thrusting above him, palming himself through the fabric to relieve some of his tension. Johnny looked well-fucked already, and Ghost was just getting started. He was rubbing his hands all over his own body in the bed, like a cat preening himself, dragging his fingers through the fur on his chest and abdomen, curling them around the thick hair at the base of his cock. 

“Give it to me, Si. Don’t make me wait.”

Simon obeyed. He found the cockring and the lube in his nightstand and looped it over Johnny’s cock and balls, listening to him moan as he felt the pressure. Then, he dropped to his knees, eager to taste his lover’s pretty hole. 

As Ghost’s tongue found his core, Johnny grunted with hot pleasure,

“Fuck, don’t.. sir, please…”

Ghost stopped, looking up at him while he played with the sergeant’s throbbing head, 

“You want me to stop, Johnny?”

Soap chuckled softly, 

“Just dinnae wanna come too soon, sir.”

“So, come. I’m not stopping at one, Johnny. You’re going to count them for me, all fuckin’ night. There’s a long time until I’m finished with you, mate.”

“Oh, fuck!” Johnny ran his hand down his face in anxious joy, fretting over his roiling pleasure. 

Ghost returned to his task, fucking Johnny with his long, wriggling tongue, trying to fit it deeper and deeper into his hole, feeling his muscles shake and tremble from the anticipation. Then, when he was satisfied with the delightful keening noises coming from the Scot, he added a finger to his efforts, listening as Soap’s moaning changed pitch. 

“You like that, Johnny?”

“Yeah, Si. I do… holy fuck.”

“Gonna let me taste your come, hm, pretty boy?”

“Yessss…” Soap’s face was wrenched shut, his eyes and mouth locked in a frozen state of wonderful agony, like a band ready to snap. 

Ghost added another finger and began to pound his hand against Johnny’s body, forcing him to feel the stretch and the intruding pressure on his prostate gland, reaching high to find it. He curled his finger, making Johnny cry out, With his free hand, Ghost began to jack him off, focusing on his rosy head, turning his wrist in teasing circles to draw out his pleasure. 

“Fuck! I’m – oh, fuck.”

“That’s it, Johnny. Come for me. C’mon, love.”

“I’m –” Johnny stared up at Simon, his blue eyes wide in disbelief, and his come painted his belly with a beautiful splatter, shooting out of Simon’s hand and soaking his skin. 

When he was finished, Ghost began to lick his come off of his hand, and then he turned his attention to Johnny. He sucked it off of his cock, cleaning him from his recent elation. But, as he moved to lick it from his abdomen, Soap stopped him,

“Sir, you dinnae need to…”

Ghost grabbed Johnny’s hips with a renewed fury, and he glared at him as he replied,

“You can’t stop me, Sergeant. Now, be a good boy and give me another.”

Simon pulled his dick out of his sweatpants and rubbed it down with the lube, using some on Soap’s hole as well, and fed himself inside. His crown popped into Johnny’s flushed body, and the man made a whole new symphony of sounds for Ghost to enjoy. 

Ghost finished licking him clean while he thrust into him, feeding some to Johnny on his hand as well, kissing him through it, tasting him inside of himself. 

Each thrust was like a dream. It was as if Johnny's warm, pulsing asshole was made for his cock, and Simon felt like he was on the edge of coming himself. While he was fucking his aching cock into Soap, Ghost returned to jacking him off, giving him the best of both worlds, and edging him within an inch of his life. 

“You enjoying your gift, sir?” Johnny smirked up at Simon as he asked the question, cock-drunk and overwhelmed by the pleasure.

Simon smiled back, kissing him softly as he slammed himself deep into his tight little present, 

“Aye. But, I'm puttin' you on the naughty list this year.”

[sequinsmile-x]

Half Time

She’d always been attracted to him. 

AKA the one where Emily watches Aaron coach Jack's soccer team and loses her mind.

-x-

Hi friends,

I saw a pic of a man who looked vaguely like Aaron wearing a baby carrier whilst scrolling through Pinterest, and my brain shut off kind of like Emily's does in this.

Naturally, a smut fic was needed.

-x-

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She’d always been attracted to him. 

Even back when she hated him, when he was her boss who didn’t trust her and let her know it, she’d felt it. An almost primal urge that pushed her towards him. If he hadn’t been married she’s sure she would have pulled him into a supply closet at some point, or the bathroom of the local bar where they often all went for drinks. She would have let him fuck her against any available surface, both of them getting the pent up emotions out in what they would have both claimed at the time was a one-time thing. 

Looking back on it, she’s glad it didn’t end up that way. She’s grateful that she never gave into her baser instincts, that they’d waited until they were ready, somehow both in one piece again after everything they’d been through. If she had given in, if she’d kissed him one of the many, many times she’d considered it over the years, they likely wouldn’t have what they had now. They wouldn’t be married, wouldn’t be raising Jack together in the house they’d bought last year. 

They wouldn’t have their little girl.

It seemed impossible to think about, something she didn’t even like to consider. 

Emily smiles as she settles onto the bleachers, suppressing a yawn as she takes a sip of her coffee. Her smile gets wider when she spots Aaron, standing on the sidelines ready to coach Jack’s soccer team, with Violet strapped to him in her baby carrier. The four-month-old was contentedly asleep, her cheek pressed to her father’s chest, and the sight of them together warms Emily from the inside out. He was such a good father that it made her ache sometimes, that same primal feeling she’d had all those years ago sparking deep in her gut whenever she watched him interact with their children. 

She finds herself distracted by it, her gaze fixed on the way he places his hand on Violet’s back, how he looks down to check on her as he talks to one of the other parents standing near him. Emily goes to sip her coffee again but almost misses her mouth, she clears her throat and looks around to make sure no one saw it happen. Her eyes go wide when she looks back at Aaron to find him looking at her, a smirk on his face that she hates as much as she loves and she narrows her eyes at him. He winks before he goes back to paying attention to the game and she curses herself internally, shaking her head as she presses her lips together. 

“Hi, Emily.” 

She turns at the sound of Jessica’s voice and smiles, “Hi Jess,” she says, pulling her into a hug as she sits next to her, “Jack will be so pleased you made it.” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she replies, her smile turning curious as she looks at Aaron, “Is Vi helping with coaching today?” 

Emily chuckles and shakes her head, “No, we had a bit of a rough night and apparently only I would do according to Violet,” she says, her exhaustion feeling briefly worse as she acknowledges it, “Aaron insisted on taking her so I could have a break.” 

“Is she okay?” Jessica asks, her eyebrows furrowing together in concern. She loved Violet in the same way she loved Jack, and had referred to her as her niece from the first time she met the little girl. Emily was endlessly grateful for the woman sitting next to her, for the way she had accepted her place in Jack and Aaron’s life so easily, and now how she loved her daughter. 

“She’s okay,” Emily assures her, looking back over at Aaron and smiling at how he still has his hand on Violet’s back, how the baby looks impossibly smaller against him. She feels the familiar pull in her lower belly again and she  looks back at Jessica, “Just the four month sleep regression I think,” she says, her smile wry, “We’re not getting a whole lot of sleep at the minute.” 

Jessica’s smile turns into a smirk, the kind of expression Emily’s sure a sister would have given her if she’d ever had one, and she leans in closer so no one other than Emily can hear her, “I’m assuming sleeping isn’t the only thing there isn’t a whole lot of right now?” 

Emily’s eyes go wide and she can feel her cheeks burning, something that only makes Jessica laugh at her. She clears her throat and shrugs, well aware that her attempts at nonchalance had failed, “I don’t know what you mean.”

It had been a little longer since she’d last had sex than she cared to admit. Their sex life had always been healthy but towards the end of her pregnancy and ever since she gave birth it wasn’t something that happened anywhere near as often. In the 10 weeks since she’d been cleared by her doctor after she’d had Violet, they’d only had sex a handful of times and it was driving her crazy. 

Jessica rolls her eyes, “Please, Emily. You’re looking at him like a lion looks at a gazelle on those nature documentaries,” she says, her smile only getting wider when Emily averts her gaze, “I’m happy to take the kids for a few hours.” 

She chuckles dryly and shakes her head, “No, it’s okay. Jack is going to his friends this afternoon anyway and Vi usually goes down for her afternoon nap with no issues.” 

Their attention is pulled away from each other as they hear Aaron yell at someone to be careful. When Emily looks over he now has both hands on, a still sleeping, Violet’s back and he is frowning at the man standing just a couple of paces away from them. It didn’t take much to realise that the other man had clearly walked into Aaron, his protective stance and the glare on his face all the evidence Emily needs, and she feels her nerves tingling just at the thought of it. Sparks setting off throughout her body at the thought of him yelling at someone, something she’d always found almost disturbingly attractive, to protect their little girl enough to tip her over the edge. 

She clenches her teeth to try and gain control of herself, blowing out a steady breath as she hears a muffled giggle from beside her, and she turns to look at Jessica.

“Haley always liked it when he was assertive too.”

“Jess.” 

___

Emily doesn’t think she’s ever been more grateful that Violet goes down for her nap without fussing. 

She changes out of the clothes she wore to the soccer game and puts on one of Aaron’s shirts and a pair of his boxers, partially because Violet spit up on her after she fed her, partially because she knows the sight of her in his clothes sends her husband wild. Her need for him had only increased as the soccer game wore on, and it wasn’t helped by the fact he’d placed his warm, heavy, hand on her thigh the entire journey home. She wasn’t going to waste the small amount of alone time they had. 

She finds him in the kitchen, humming off key to himself as he empties the dishwasher. She stares at him for a moment, watches how the muscles in his arms shift under his skin, how the material of his polo shirt stretches around his triceps. Her gaze trails downwards, landing on his ass, perfectly hugged by his jeans, and she swallows thickly. 

She places the baby monitor down on the counter and walks over to him, wrapping her arms around him from behind and resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Did she go down okay?” He asks, his hand automatically seeking out hers as she places it on his abdomen.

“Yes,” she replies, breathing in the scent of him, something that was uniquely him sneaking out from underneath the cologne she’d bought him, “For a girl who apparently hates sleeping at night she sure loves a nap.” 

He giggles and turns in her embrace, briefly frozen in place when he sees what she’s wearing. He swallows thickly, his hands shifting to her hips, and she presses her lips together, knowing she’s got him exactly where she wants him. 

“You changed?” 

She shrugs, “Vi spit up on me.” 

He doesn’t entirely believe her and she knows it, the way he grips her hip even tighter all the acknowledgement she needs. 

He looks her up and down, the sight of his clothes on her doing exactly what he knows she’d planned for. He backs her up against the kitchen counter, smirking when she jumps slightly when it hits her back, trapping her between him and the marble. 

“So,” he says, smiling as her tongue pokes out to lick her lower lip, his focus stuck on how it shines afterwards, making him want to do nothing other than taste her skin, “We probably have about an hour until she wakes up.” 

Emily hums, shifting back and forth as she rubs her thighs together for a moment of relief, the tension between them close to making her snap, “I wonder what we should do,” she says, her eyes flicking up to his, “To pass the time-”

She’s cut off as he surges forward, his lips against hers as he cups her cheeks, holding her in place. She sighs contentedly into the kiss and wraps her arms around him, her fingers digging into his back through his polo shirt. She opens her mouth to grant him access, moaning as he deepens the kiss. They only pull back when the need for oxygen comes too much, both of them light-headed as they gasp for air, but Aaron carries on, kissing her cheek and then her jaw, carrying on down her throat as if he was a man starved. 

It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one who had been going a little crazy lately. 

He pushes the shirt she’s wearing down her shoulder, licking at her skin, groaning at the taste of her. It was something he never got used to even after all this time, forever under her spell. He pulls the strap of her bra down, nipping at the skin it had covered and she sighs, pressing her hips against his. He smirks against her and does it again, his palm sneaking under the bottom of the shirt and grasping at her, tracing familiar hills and valleys he knows he could map in his sleep. 

She moans as he gets closer to her breasts, his thumb tracing under the cup of her bra and she places her hands on his shoulders. She was sensitive, sore in a way she hadn’t known was possible before she started to breastfeed, and the thought of it breaks through the haze that had washed over her. 

“Honey,” she gasps out, “They’re-”

“Off limits,” he says, his touch becoming softer as he presses a gentle kiss to the top of her breast, “I know, sweetheart.” 

She smiles and cups his face, pulling him in for a kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck and moans as his hands shift to her hips. He stands back just far enough to help lift her onto the counter, his thumbs in the waistline of the boxers she's wearing so he can pull them down her legs. He lets them drop to the floor and steps between her legs and runs his hand up her thigh, smirking and breaking the kiss as he feels the slick on her skin. He groans as he runs his fingers through her folds, his smile getting wider when she rocks her hips against his hand.  

“You’re so wet, Em,” he says, his jeans getting so tight they feel uncomfortable, “So desperate for me,” he leans in and kisses her cheek, “I think someone likes watching me coach the soccer team.”

She hums and nods, rolling her hips against his hand, any embarrassment she might feel at being caught out overwhelmed by her desire for him. 

“Aaron, please-” She’s cut off as he slips one of his fingers inside of her, her words disappearing into a moan as he rubs circles on her clit, “Fuck, yes. That’s it.” 

It had always been like this. Like he’d not only studied the manual for her body, for what brought her to the edge, but like he’d written the damn thing. His famous attention to detail something that she quickly learnt wasn’t just something he applied at work. 

Usually, he’d tease her, build her up slowly as she begged for more, the breathy sounds she’d release against his skin one of his favourite sounds in the world. But he knows their time is limited, that they’d have to stop if Violet wakes up, so he doesn’t. He’s relentless, circling her clit in a way that makes her grip at his arm, her nails digging into his skin and leaving red marks, and he pumps his finger in and out of her, adding a second just to hear her groan. She rests her forehead on his shoulder and she shudders, a sure sign she is close. 

“Aaron…I’m…” she gasps, clenching around his fingers, her grip on his arm getting tighter as her words catch in her chest, 

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he says gruffly, his voice thick with desire, and she moans his name as she comes, her head thrown back as every nerve in her body catches fire, a spark setting off in her gut and spreading outwards. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she mutters as she comes down, chuckling as she shakes her head. 

“No, just me,” he replies, winking at her and she rolls her eyes, pulling him in for a kiss as she runs her hands down his back and cups his ass through his jeans. She wraps one of her legs around his waist and pulls him closer, her heel digging into his back.

“Take off your jeans,” she says, smiling as he immediately complies. 

He undoes his belt and jeans, lowering them and his boxers just enough so he can spring free. It’s a small relief, the discomfort his jeans had caused gone, but it’s not enough, the desire to be inside of her overwhelming. He groans as she reaches for him, pumping him up and down as he steps closer, her other leg hooking around his waist. 

They groan in unison as she guides him into her, the familiar feeling no less incredible than it had been the very first time. She rests her forehead against his, her breath shuddering over his skin as she gets used to the stretch of him. He stays still, his hands tight on her hips as he holds her close and she rolls her hips, desperate for him to move. 

“Aaron, please,” she says, her lips hovering over his. Her eyes roll back as he pulls out of her and pushes back in, long, slow strokes that feel like they push the hair from her lungs. 

“You feel so good sweetheart,” he grunts, chasing her lips in a desperate kiss, “So fucking good.” 

“You too,” she replies, rolling her hips in tandem with his, “So good.” 

She rests her forehead on his shoulder, letting herself get lost in the feeling of him, in the feel of them. Sex had always been something she enjoyed, but with him, it had always been different. It could be fast and desperate like this, where they needed each other so much they didn’t even take off all their clothes. Or it could be slow and sensual, their hands linked together as they took their time, showing each other how much they loved each other. 

She feels herself getting close again, the feeling simmering low in her gut. He’s close too, his hips stuttering as he speeds up. She opens her mouth to tell him, but he already knows, his thumb on her clit as he reaches between them, rubbing gentle circles against her. She gasps and clenches around him, making him groan as he thrusts against her. They tip over the edge together, Emily’s teeth sinking into his shoulder through his shirt so she doesn’t scream out, her mind just about able to remind her their baby was asleep upstairs. 

“Fuck, Em,” he grunts as he comes deep inside of her, his cheek resting against the top of her head, “I love you so much.”

She chuckles breathlessly, “Love you too,” she pulls back to look at him, her hands on his cheeks as she pulls him into a gentle kiss, “I needed that.” 

“Me too,” He laughs and rests his forehead on her shoulder, breathless as she runs her fingers through his hair, “You really had to change into my clothes?” 

She playfully narrows her eyes at him as she encourages him to look at her. She places her hand on his chest and rubs the material of his shirt between her thumb and forefinger, “Oh come on, like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing when you put on this polo shirt this morning?” 

-x-

Tag List:

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[nerdieforpedro]

A Certain Fae's Melancholy

Jack Daniels (Fae) x GN reader

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Summary: You were lulled into a world you never asked for and the reason that Jack Daniels wanders.

Warnings: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Shifting perspectives, Drinking, Alcohol. References to Depression, Scheming, Stalking, Lonely souls, Mild Sexual Content, Aging, Sorrow, Character Death

Word Count: less than 3k

Notes: This is for the Monster (S)mash challenge hosted by @quinnnfabrgay-writes and @hauntedhowlett-writes. This wasn't this fic I intended to write, but it's the fic that I wrote. I certainly smashed something with this, just not what I expected.

Not Beta-read, back on my "shoot it out there and hope for the best" mantra. This is the first thing I've written in a few weeks so...could be why maybe? 😅

Main Masterlist/ Jack Daniels-Agent Whiskey Masterlist/ Challenges Masterlist/ AO3 Link

The low rumble of laughter rouses you from your slumber. You don’t remember falling asleep. Only that you’d come to these woods while it was daylight. The sun is setting, it must have been at least a few hours but you suspect longer. Looking down at your arm, your wristwatch is gone. No use trying to tell time now.

Taking a deep breath, someone is watching you, likely the same person whose laughter woke you. He’s tall wearing a tan stenson, tipping it toward you like a greeting with a grin as he steps toward you from underneath the shadow of one of the towering trees. It’s then that you realize two things: the first is that the trees look different from the gray-brown wood that are near your home; the second is that you know this man. Your conversations have been increasing in number and you found yourself coming to appreciate his appearances at your local bar. They weren’t too often, meaning he wasn’t there every time you went, but enough that he seemed to be a regular.

“Now that’s sweet of you sugar. You got that little rabbit’s foot I let you borrow for your interview. How did that go?” The observation and question don’t match the situation. You find that despite the unease you feel, you take his large hand as he guides you to your feet and steadies you. The grin softens into a smile and he pats your head, pushing questions that your should be asking him aside, you utter two words that bind you closer to him without realizing: 

“Thank you.” His hand glides from your lower back to the nape of your neck, his thumb stroking your exposed skin and it is warm at the friction, but cool to the touch. “Your hands are cold Jack. That old saying might be true, ‘cold hands make for a warm heart’ and all that.” It’s your turn to join him in making birds vacate the trees at the boom of your combined glee. 

Looking up into Jack’s eyes and they flash a bright shade of green and it catches your attention, to both the color and the direction that you both are heading. You don’t remember walking with him or him stating a direction. He takes one of your hands in his and interlocks your fingers. “Now, now, gorgeous. Don’t be scared. You’ve already given me so much, a little bit more won’t hurt.” Slowly making your way up the steps of an all white house. It appears almost brand new, everything is painted, the door is a crimson red with emerald ivy having overgrown and covers up part of the front of the porch. It’s a stark contrast, given that the shutters are a sienna brown as is the roof. Jack says your name and points down, your name appears after his on the doormat welcoming any would-be visitors to what you presume to be your shared home now. Once inside, Jack eases you down on the couch and pats your thigh. “Now. I’ll give you time to adjust, I see the wheels turning in the noggin of yours.” His rough palm cups your cheek and you place your hand on his, to remove you had thought but then you remember some of the conversations you’ve had with Jack at the bar. 

The first time you met Jack, you made a cowboy joke. He expected it given the form he decided to take on. He finds that many men and women are attached to the allure of a rugged cowboy and possibly being the one to tame them. Daniels had gotten this same sense and considered just having some fun romps in your bed and not thinking twice about it. Unlike many of the humans he’d encountered, he found you funny. Jack normally laughed when he’d perceived that it was socially acceptable to do so. Thankfully, being alive for five or six centuries, he’d gotten the hang of figuring out when to do so. The years blend together and so do the various humans, you stuck out to him. He genuinely laughed while the two of you drank that night. He was able to have the first two pieces of getting his next fix of companionship: deciding on you as his partner and your name. 

The second time Jack saw you at the bar, he was upfront and told you what he was, a fae. A creature that has seen empires and civilizations come and go, explored a myriad of cultures and experienced maybe that many lovers. Not many companions though. Powerful beings are typically lonely after all. You followed that up stating that you had Scottie beam you down and were going to give the humans in area fifty-one to talk about. You could make some of those probes happen with a tentacle or two and would ask to borrow some of Daniels’ fairy dust to sprinkle on a few of your friends to give them some good luck. Also to get a few of them laid, they whined about that a bit. While Jack did get a kick of what your plan was if you were an alien, he assured you that indeed he was a fae and not a fairy. “That’s some Disney horse shit sugar.” 

Subsequent nights were spent with you sharing different details of your life with Jack and him telling you different stories of his adventures. He knew you weren’t taking him seriously, likely believing him to be full of tall tales and bluster, but it was the night that you told him of your interview for a higher position at your job that his eyebrows raised. He’d been trying to think of something to give you that wouldn’t seem too out of the blue, something that you would accept with limited questions. He just needs it to be something of his, that way he can draw you further into his world. Most people would have blown off someone seemingly talking out of the side of the neck or giving so many false (to you) accounts of different events, but Jack knew that glint in your eye. He’d gotten you excited to hear what outrageous tale he would tell you next. “Next time I see ya, I’ll have a little somethin’.” You’d mentioned that your interview was next month, so Jack would take a week, maybe a week and half off. Distance creates longing and it would be less suspicious when he saw you the next time. 

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t still see you of course, you just wouldn’t know. That was how he discovered you’d spoken to someone about him. Actually that same friend group you wanted to use his so-called ‘fairy dust’ on. Daniels does appreciate that you speak of him in a positive light, it’s nice to hear, but the fact that you mentioned him at all is the third piece of his plan. One he hadn’t been counting on and he considers a happy accident. Encounters with fae are not to be spoken of, not that you wouldn’t have known. It’s part of the game and Jack is more than half of the way there. 

Feeling you embrace him in a side hug with a hand clasped on his shoulder, Jack Daniels can be honest with himself that he’s begun to care about you and that it may not be just a companion he wants - he may want a relationship. One of those give and take sorts that he hasn’t experienced since the Industrial Revolution, after a shot or three of whiskey is when he gives you a good luck charm - the rabbit’s foot. The very same that you hold in your hand as you sit on the couch. He’d wished you good luck on your interview then. 

Jack has taken to the kitchen and is making black tea with honey. Normally it would have milk, but as he mentions when he gives you your cup, he despises the taste of milk. “Only good in cereal, baked or cooked in something. Don’t want none unless it’s one of those three.” 

“So, am I just going to be here now, with you? I also didn’t get the job. Guess the charm didn’t work.” You look down at the tea, unable to meet his eyes. Your anger at the situation is starting to seep in at how you’ve been lulled into coming to a secluded house with this man and he’s clearly targeted you, but he’s being polite about it. “All of this is disconcerting Jack.” Your lips nearly touch the mug before he speaks.

“I was upfront with everything darlin’ and told you I’m a fae. We ain’t like them fairies in the story books or movies. We like entertainment and mischief. Think like that twiggy guy who’s always fightin’ with his brother but less daddy issues and no delusions of grandour.” Slurping his tea, he runs his tongue along his upper lip and smirks as you watch. “You can act like you don’t wanna be here, but I didn’t ask you to keep talking to me, give me your name, or to even come to these woods. You were trying to get promoted because your job is always putting the cart way before the horse and making you deal with it for less pay. You’re lonely just like I am and tired of it. Now if you wanna stay, you drink that tea and I can stay by your side until the end of your days. I’m a man of my word.”

“Is something in this tea?” You stare at it and it smells and looks ordinary. His words sting, you’d told him too much about how you feel about your life right now. His ochre brown eyes are fixed on you, matching them you see it. The emptiness that looks back at you when you ready yourself in the morning and when prepping for bed at night. “The void. It truly is the same for you isn’t it? But won’t be painful for you when I’m gone? My life has got to be a few blips in your lifetime. Wouldn’t I be getting more out of this?”

“One might see it that way, but I’m different from most fae. They’re fine being on their own for the most part, but allows those in who I feel I may be able to build a life with, even if it isn’t that long. If there’s one enviable thing about you humans, you match one another in time where I also seem to have too much of it.” Jack removes his stenson and lays it on the coffee table, sipping more of his tea with his eyes still on you. “Tea’s getting cold sugar. What’s it gonna be?”

Maybe you were swayed by his words, maybe it was your own feelings of someone who understood what it feels to know the pangs of heartache were, maybe it was the chance to escape everything and start anew on a curious journey that very few have had the privilege of. Gulping down the tea gave you your first view of a surprised Jack Daniels. His mug clattered on the table next to his hat and he grabs you by the shoulders. “Hot damn baby! Looks like you’re ridin’ with me for the long haul!” 

Slowly, food you had been used to eating lost its taste. Jack explained that because you were now eating food he prepared, you were becoming more acclimated to the fae world. About a month in, Jack showed you where he gathered the food he prepared. It turns out, it’s actually odd little berries that he uses magic to make them appear and taste like foods you’re more familiar with. Picking the fruits is a fun outing and leads to the two of you getting caught in the rain, where you had your first kiss with Jack. The only reason it took this long is because he was indeed a fae true to his word and wasn’t going to force you to do anything you weren’t ready for. He also explained after you kiss, that he may have had to initiate soon because his kiss or other intimate contact would protect you from the Fae Queen. It sounded like one of his many jokes, but by this point, all of them as they relate to fae have proven not to be jokes. 

Things progressed quickly after that, it seems having less of an appetite for substance led to other needs strengthening. At first you thought it was just Jack’s libido that was high as he normally sought you out around the house, but when you pushed him on his back flat on the dining room table and you riding him like one of the bucking broncos he normally joked about, it was clear that sex had replaced food for you too. 

Over the next few decades, Jack took you across the seas, continents, deserts, plains and more. In the span of ten years, you’d nearly crossed off all the places on a bucket list you’d compiled. You aged slower due to your consumption of the fae fruit, but time still marched on and Jack looked the same as the day you’d met him. Mustache still dark and bushy, all his hair atop his head and a beautiful shade of umber. His excitement and joy at watching you marvel at what he could show you kept him going. Jack knew he could do it as long as he had you with him, holding his hand and laughing like in that forest all those years ago. 

Daniels had also taken you to explore the fae world, it was on a different plane than the human one, almost overlapping at different points but also had fixed pockets of space. He told a few of the fae about your old joke about fairy dust and they did give you some. It was disappointing though, only made your hands itchy. The fae would come visit you both at your home as they found you quite interesting. Apparently, you’re the longest lasting human Jack has been with, usually they’re dead by now according to them. Jack hushes them but you wonder how many have been before you, it can’t have been that many but it does cross your mind sometimes, even when Jack it rutting into you or if you’re looking up at him as you help relax with your throat after spending another afternoon watching the sun set again in Aruba. 

With your advancing age, you and Jack travel less and he’s more careful with you. Almost like you’re made of glass which you assure him you’re not. Neither of your parents were glassmakers. Still with that humor that Daniels loves. He’s thankful that you’ve made it to your twilight years, well past your eightieth year. Daniels still sees that funny soul that keeps his heart feeling light with every touch and verbal exchange. A rather odd couple that draws many an eye when you’re out and about, such an older partner for this hearty cowboy, if only they knew the truth. It is not for them to know.

Just as it is not for anyone to know what Jack Daniels sounds like when he assumes you were asleep when he arrived home from gathering more fruit for the two of you. Your body, always so pleasantly heated when he’d rest his head in your lap or on your shoulder. Even the touch of your hand was a tepid treat against his cool skin, but today it matches his. Jack wants to toss the idea away and just carry you inside to warm you up by the fire but he knows it will do nothing. Your skin will remain cold as that humorous soul he loved is no longer there.

Jack Daniels finds that your death is the hardest he’s experienced thus far. He was able to have you with him for decades. His home is now barren and the fruit he has gathered doesn’t matter. The solitude he had eliminated with your presence has returned with such an abrupt embrace. Daniels fights it as he picks your body up and carries it to the backyard, though he did not stop there.

No one, fae or human has seen Jack Daniels since. It could be he has assumed a new form and identity, but most believe that he’s still wandering somewhere with the remains of the one he loved the most in both worlds: You.

A few people who may be interested in the sads 😭: @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @readingiskeepingmegoing @604to647 @lady-bess

@morallyinept @trulybetty @maggiemayhemnj @tinytinymenace @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@guelyury @yorksgirl @fhatbhabiee

[section-chief-prentiss]

loml

Summary: Almost a year after Aaron and Jack enter witness protection, Emily spots them while on a case in Wisconsin. 

AU that takes place sometime during season 12. 

Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Aaron Hotchner 

Word Count: 1980 

TWs: blood, suicide, death 

Ao3

“Tara and Alvez, take the front. JJ and I will go around back,” Emily said.

The team dispersed, careful to keep themselves concealed as much as possible under the cloudy, Wisconsin spring sky. The agents surrounding the isolated cabin where, if their profile was right, Patrick Winters was hiding, the 42-year-old UnSub who, in the past month, had kidnapped and murdered over a dozen women. The team hadn’t yet located all of the bodies, but Emily was determined. 

They needed Winters alive. 

While Alvez announced the FBI’s arrival at the front door, JJ and Emily snuck in through the back, guns raised. 

A gunshot sent off a frenzy. From both entrances, FBI agents flooded the house. JJ and Emily cleared the kitchen and small bathroom before hearing, “Prentiss!” 

They rushed into the living room to find Patrick Winters, gun in hand, lying on top of a growing pool of blood, a single shot to the side of his head. 

“Damnit,” Emily cursed, stowing her gun. “Clear the rest of the house.”

The only remaining room was the cabin’s one bedroom, which the agents cleared quickly. 

“There are no bodies here,” JJ reported, rejoining Emily and holstering her weapon. “There are still four women we haven’t found…”

“I know.” 

JJ winced at Emily’s tone, and the Unit Chief sighed in response. “Jayje, I’m sorry. I just don’t—”

“I know,” JJ said. “I hate it, too.”

The team jumped in to help the local police secure the crime scene, but Emily stepped away for some much-needed air. On her way out of the house, she passed Rossi and Reid speaking with the police chief, who looked at her with unspoken questions in their eyes, but she didn’t pause until she was next to one of the team’s SUVs. Alone. 

When she was sure no one could see her, Emily leaned against the car, pressing her palms into her eyes. What was she doing? Snapping at her team? Breaking down at crime scenes? She wasn’t being the leader her team needed. The leader Hotch had always been. 

It had been 11 months and 2 days since Aaron and Jack Hotchner went into WITSEC to protect themselves from Mr. Scratch. 

Not that Emily was keeping track.

11 months and 2 days since Emily found out she was never going to get a chance to tell Aaron how she felt about him after all these years.

She always thought she had time. That she could wait until she was sure he returned her feelings. 

Until Peter Lewis surfaced at one of Jack’s soccer games, and Emily never saw Aaron again. 

She was grateful he’d done it—that he’d protected himself and his son. She wouldn’t have to worry about them being in danger anymore. But damn, if she didn’t miss him every day since.

Emily turned back toward the house, and her heart skipped a beat as a dark-haired agent approached the front door. He was tall, like Hotch, and wore a white button-down under his bulletproof vest. She found herself taking a step toward him instinctively.

But when the man turned to speak with Rossi in the doorway, the light revealed the truth she’d known deep down—this wasn’t Hotch. It was just another agent. 

“Get it together, Em,” she whispered, turning away from the crime scene. 

With the one-year mark approaching, Aaron was fresh on Emily’s mind. She was sure she saw him everywhere—the movies, her favorite restaurants, even at the BAU. But as soon as she’d blink, the illusion would be gone. 

For the Hotchners’ security, the team wasn’t allowed to know where Aaron and Jack were living. But every time a case took them to a different state, Emily couldn’t help but keep an eye out, wondering if they were somewhere nearby. Living the normal lives they so deserved.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, when she was alone, she found herself wishing she was with them. 

“You okay?” 

Spencer’s voice caused Emily to jump, and one hand flew to her holster out of habit.

“Sorry, it’s just me,” Spencer said, raising his arms. 

Emily blew out a breath and put her hand down.

“I’m fine, just a long case.”

“Chief Rogers asked if we could stay until tomorrow, try and help them tie up the loose ends of the case.”

Before Spencer was finished speaking, Emily was already nodding. “Of course.”

“I’ll let him know.” 

As Reid headed back toward the house, JJ made her way toward the SUV.

“The local police said they can take it from here for tonight,” JJ reported. “I know this case has taken a toll. I was thinking, since we’re staying another night, maybe we pick up some wine and food on the way back to the hotel? Have a girl’s night? I already asked Tara, and she’s in.”

Emily smiled. “That sounds perfect. I can grab the wine, if you two want to pick up dinner somewhere, and we’ll meet back at the hotel?”

“I can come with you,” JJ offered. 

Emily shook her head. “That’s alright. I need a minute alone before I’ll be fun to be around. Can you let the rest of the team know?”

“Of course. See you soon,” JJ said.

Emily fished the car keys out of her pocket, grateful for the excuse to leave without talking to anyone else. She searched for the nearest grocery store in this small Wisconsin town and found only one, but it was just a few minutes away.

Emily drove in silence, relishing this brief reprieve. 

The Pick ‘n Save parking lot was emptier than she expected, until she remembered where she was. This wasn’t D.C., where she dreaded going to her local grocery store because there was never anywhere to park. It made her grateful to be on the road as often as she was.

She left her Kevlar vest in the car and tucked her gun into the glovebox before heading inside and beelining to the alcohol section. Briefly, she lingered near the tequila, debating if she should bring something stronger. But they had work to do in the morning, and wine was risky enough.

She ended up with two bottles—Tara’s favorite red, and JJ’s favorite white. She glanced at the bottles in her basket, wondering if she should grab anything else. On her way to check out, the snack aisle caught her attention, and she knew that bringing JJ a bag of Cheetos would make for a great peace offering after her outburst earlier.

Emily took one step down the aisle when a flash of dark hair halted her in her tracks. 

She stepped out of the aisle, closed her eyes, and counted to ten.

It’s not him, she told herself. You’re just tired and stressed. 

But when she peeked around the corner again, the image hadn’t changed. A dark-haired man in a blue polo and slacks stood with an unmistakable smile on his face as he looked down at the little boy with sandy blond hair at his side. The boy who had grown so much since she’d seen him almost a year ago. 

Her heart skipped a beat.

But it couldn’t be. 

They were at the far end of the aisle—far enough away that this could still be her mind playing tricks on her. But she couldn’t leave here unless she was sure.

Retracing her steps, she headed down the next aisle, walking as calmly as she could to the end. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to move slowly. 

She stopped at the end of her aisle, pretending to be immersed in the selection of cereals, listening as closely as she could.

“Buddy, we can’t get Doritos and Cheetos; you have to choose one.”

“But I want both!” 

It took all of Emily’s strength not to drop her basket and shatter the wine bottles inside it. She knew those voices as well as she knew her own.

Aaron. Jack. 

“How about this? We’ll get one this time, and we can get the other next time. So which do you want today?” 

“Umm… Cheetos! No, Doritos!” 

There was rustling as one of them grabbed the chosen bag. 

“Alright, what’s next on the list?” 

“Cereal!” 

Emily’s blood ran cold. For their protection, she knew she couldn’t interact with them. And that was more important than anything.

But if she lingered here for just another minute… she’d get to see them. Maybe for the last time. 

In the end, her training took over, and she jogged into the next aisle over. She knew she shouldn’t linger, so she retraced her steps to the opposite end, speed walking past the cereal aisle, not even daring to risk a glance in the boys’ direction, before turning down the chip aisle. 

Emily stopped in front of the Doritos and Cheetos, feeling odd knowing that Aaron and Jack had stood here just moments before. 

But every moment that she lingered she knew risked them crossing paths. So she picked up a bag of puffy Cheetos and tossed it into her basket with the wine. She was about to turn away when a voice froze her in place.

“Okay, I’ll grab the Cheetos instead, but this is the last time you can change your mind!” 

Emily knew she should leave, but her feet wouldn’t budge. Leaving her to watch, frozen, as Aaron Hotchner walked into her field of vision. Watch as he staggered back a step when their eyes locked. 

Emily sucked in a breath and held it, as if doing so would keep her in this moment longer.

I miss you, she thought as hard as she could in his direction.

His eyes softened, and he nodded once, as if saying that he understood. 

He glanced down at the basket in her hand, unable to fight back a smile when he saw the chips she’d chosen. 

He raised an eyebrow at her. JJ? She imagined he was asking.

She cracked a smile and nodded.

“Dad, what’s taking so long?” 

Jack’s voice snapped them both into motion. Aaron quickly put the Nacho Cheese Doritos back on their shelf, substituting them for a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.

“Be right there,” he called to his son.

Aaron glanced over his shoulder to wink at Emily before disappearing once more. As if he’d never been there at all. 

Emily felt like she was moving through water—each step slow, her breath difficult to control. She picked up the bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos that Aaron had put back and threw them in her basket, unsure why she did it. She hated that flavor. But as she made her way to the checkout, she realized—she wanted something that he had touched. It was as close as she would ever get to touching him. 

Emily’s hands shook the entire drive back to the hotel. She mindlessly carried her things to her hotel room, where JJ and Tara were already waiting with boxes of Chinese food. 

JJ frowned upon seeing the expression on Emily’s face. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Emily said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just a long line at the grocery store.”

Emily showed off her purchases, and JJ’s face lit up at the sight of the Cheetos, not paying attention to the second bag of chips Emily had.

But nothing slipped Tara’s notice. She tilted her head in confusion. “I thought you didn’t like that flavor.”

All Emily wanted to do was tell them what she saw. But even though it broke her heart further, she knew this would have to remain a secret. 

“There was a sale,” Emily shrugged. “Thought I’d try something different.”

That was all her friends needed to hear. They cracked open the first bottle of wine, and by the time Emily poured her third glass, she’d forgotten the memory she was so desperately trying to numb. 

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[phillippadgettwrites]

The First Time, Every Time: Lazarus

Rated X / 2231 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Scully’s been glued to her couch for hours, lost in the melancholic churn of regret. She can’t help but feel partially responsible for Jack’s death, in some tangential way. Perhaps the vacancy left by her departure was too vast to be adequately filled, even three years later. Perhaps he never really got over her. Just as soon as she has the thought, she dismisses it as terribly self-important. 

The phone rings, and she half expects it to be Jack on the other end of the line, admitting that it was all a prank that went way too far. 

“Hey, it’s me. Just checkin’ on ya.”

Scully smiles and moves the phone to the other ear. 

“I’m okay,” she says with a sigh.

There’s a stretch of silence that begins to make her nervous. 

“Most people wouldn’t be okay after going through what you just did, you know. It’s okay to…not be okay,” Mulder says gently, and Scully cringes and closes her eyes. 

“I know, Mulder,” she tells him with just enough insistence that he’ll drop it. “I really am fine, though.”

“Okay,” he relents. “Message received. What are you up to?”

Scully looks at the open box of photographs strewn across her coffee table and the half empty bottle of wine sitting in the middle of them. 

“Not much,” she says, leaning forward to pick up a candid shot of Jack with a cigarette dangling from his smiling mouth. “Just…thinking, I guess.”

“About Jack?” It’s a rhetorical question, one she responds to with only a hum. “He seemed like a good guy,” Mulder comments, somewhat detachedly. It’s the kind of thing you say about people you didn’t know well after they die. The kind of thing that’s said more for the comfort of the living than the benefit of the dead. 

“He was,” she agrees, equally detached. 

They are both quiet for a beat, but it’s a comfortable silence. 

“I reviewed his case notes,” Mulder says carefully, like he’s unsure whether she’ll find it intrusive. “He had some interesting insights on Dupre and Lula’s relationship.”

“Such as?” Scully asks, curious but guarded. 

“He said that he envied their devotion to each other. That they lived in a world where nothing mattered but their own needs, which he found intoxicating,” Mulder recites without much affect, leaving his opinion on Jack’s musings up to her interpretation. 

Scully thinks back to the desperate, lovesick way Jack carried himself through their relationship, like he could never quite get enough of her. At first it had been exciting and addictive, but soon became overwhelming and burdensome. The more she withdrew, the harder he tried to get back in her good graces, and she finally came to the conclusion that he wanted something from her that she was simply unwilling to give. 

“That sounds like Jack,” she says, tossing the photograph back on top of the haphazard pile. 

“I hope you don’t take offense to this, but I was surprised to learn that you’d been romantically involved with him.”

“Because he was my instructor?” she clarifies. 

“Not necessarily,” he tells her, pausing to consider his words. “I guess I just…wouldn’t have thought he’d be your type.”

This makes Scully smile. 

“Oh? What did you think my type would be?” she asks, somewhat playfully. 

“I don’t know,” Mulder admits. “Somebody less…intense. Obsessive. Single minded.”

Somebody less like you, she thinks to herself. 

“I’m not sure I have a type,” she says, knowing it’s a lie even as it leaves her lips. Her type is older, assertive, and unavailable. Bonus points if they make her work to earn their affection.

“Well,” Mulder says in a markedly more upbeat tone, “my type is canadian bacon and pineapple. You hungry? I was thinking about ordering a pizza.”

“I could eat,” she says, and her stomach growls in agreement. “But you don’t have to drive across town, Mulder; I can feed myself,” she adds, feeling undeserving. 

“I need to return a movie, so I’m going out regardless,” he says, and she can hear in his voice that he’s already up and moving around his apartment. 

“I’m sure the late fees at the adult video store are steep,” she teases, and he humors her with a wry chuckle. 

She tidies her apartment while she waits for him, stashing the photos of Jack and corking the rest of the wine for another night. When she hears his “shave and a haircut” knock at her door, she answers with a “two bits” rap of her knuckles before she opens it and takes a pizza box from his hands. 

“I got a movie,” he says, kicking the door closed behind him. “I know it’s a school night, but I’m feeling reckless.”

“When are you not feeling reckless?” she says mirthfully, gathering plates and napkins. 

The movie is something silly that neither of them pays much attention to. It’s clear that Mulder’s intention in coming over was to lift her spirits, and he hits it hard with little self-deprecating quips that make her feel equally entertained and sad for him. She can’t help but see the similarities between Mulder and Jack, their shared restlessness and obsessive nature. Their stalwart belief that if they could just solve this one case, the world would tip back on its axis. 

At one point she turns away from the TV and catches Mulder looking at her. He does this sometimes, perhaps much more frequently than she’s privy to. He’s quite good at averting his eyes almost immediately, but she still catches the tail end of the pained, longing expression on his face, and it makes something warm blossom in her belly. She can’t help but wonder why she’s so drawn to these broken, chronically unfulfilled men. She can’t help but wonder why they are so drawn to her. 

The movie ends, and he helps her collect their dirty plates and cups and move them to the kitchen sink, offering to take the pizza box to the dumpster on his way out. While prone to thoughtlessness when he’s chasing down a lead, he’s the most considerate man she’s ever known, and she wonders for the first time if he’s like this with everyone, or just with her. 

“Thank you for dinner,” she says, following two paces behind him as he moves toward her front door reluctantly, shuffling from one shoeless foot to the other like he has something else to say. 

“Anytime,” he tells her. 

They stand there awkwardly for a beat, and an uncomfortable smile stretches across Scully’s mouth. 

“What?” she asks, and Mulder laughs and looks at the floor. 

“Sorry, I’m being weird,” he says, running his hand across the back of his neck. “I was just going to say…I just felt like I should tell you, or that you should know…” He lifts his head and meets her eye with a level of intensity she wasn’t prepared for, and her stomach drops a little. “I was really scared when you went MIA,” he says. “Just thinking about the possibility that we wouldn’t find you alive was…” He stops and swallows, pausing before he speaks again. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” he finally says. 

She steps forward and opens her arms to him and he greedily accepts her embrace, scooping her up into a bear hug that nearly lifts her feet off the floor. It feels like this is what he came here for, to ease his own mind and see for himself that she continues to be alive and well. She feels the beat of his heart thrumming against her rib cage, hard and fast, and her own heart follows suit in anticipation. He holds her for much longer than is customary, and when he finally loosens his grip enough for her to pull away a little, she presses her lips to the corner of his mouth without giving it much thought. It just feels like the natural thing to do. 

Mulder stiffens, but doesn’t let go of her. A bolt of shock at her own out of character behavior makes her ears ring, and for a moment she doesn’t move at all. Mulder turns his head slightly, which makes his bottom lip brush across hers, and an involuntary little whimper escapes the back of her throat. 

His mouth tastes like sweet pineapple and acidic tomato sauce, and it’s so abundantly clear that he’s wanted to kiss her since long before tonight. She’s wanted to kiss him too—of course she has—but they can’t. They can’t, but they are, and she’s not sure why she’s doing this but she knows she doesn’t want to stop. His tongue is in her mouth and they’re pawing at each other like horny teenagers, and she doesn’t want to stop more than she doesn’t want to find out what will happen if they don’t stop. 

“Wait,” Mulder says, grabbing her hands to stop her from unbuttoning his fly right here in her foyer. It hits her like a ton of bricks just how stupid this is. How reckless. “What are we…what does this mean?” he asks, his eyes questioning and his cock visibly hard. 

Scully shakes her head softly, dazed and aroused beyond rational thinking. “I don’t know. It doesn’t have to mean anything,” she says, and she means it. She knows he has nothing more to give her, and she knows that she is unwilling to sacrifice a larger slice of her life to him than she already has. 

He stares at her for a beat, debating, and then his mouth is right back on hers. 

When she was with Jack, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. His arms around her waist were an anchor, and his kiss stole the air from her lungs. His love was an obligation. Being with him felt like drowning, and she had to swim for the surface to save herself. 

Mulder is nothing like Jack. She’s never felt as safe in anyone’s arms as she does in his, and when she kisses him her whole body lights up. He’s not asking her to love him, though she thinks she could. He’s not asking anything from her at all, and yet she desperately wants to give herself to him. Give him her mind, her dedication, her body. He treats each of these with equal reverence, and whatever the opposite of objectified is she’s feeling it now as he peels the clothes from her body and lays her down gently on top of her bed.  

He crawls over her, nude and stiff to the point of leaking, and nudges her leg to the side with his knee. He watches her face while he touches her with two gentle fingers, mapping her body by feel, and his undivided attention is the most erotic thing she’s ever experienced. He makes her come embarrassingly quickly, first with his fingers and then his mouth, before she manages to get her hands on him. He tucks his face into the crook of her neck while she strokes him firmly, murmuring little words of pleasure and affirmation that make her feel like a goddess. 

It’s been so long since she’s been with anyone that she doesn’t have a condom, but she trusts him enough to rely on her birth control and his promise to pull out. He pushes into her slowly, kissing her all the while, and the stretch of him makes her gasp with surprise and pleasure. 

“Am I hurting you?” he asks quietly, his hips stilled. 

“No,” she whimpers, wrapping one leg around his hips to pull him closer. “You’re not hurting me, Mulder.”

Somehow it feels like fucking and making love at the same time. His mouth on her neck, his hand clasped with hers, his cock buried deep inside her. Being with him feels like flying, like an endless endorphin rush. She may never be able to get enough.

“Shit, I’m gonna come,” he sputters.

Suddenly his slippery cock is laid out on her belly, streaks of hot white cum shooting up onto her breasts. She wraps him up in her fist, stroking him through the final few throbs until he begins to grow soft in her hand. He looks up and smiles at her, a kind of uncomfortable was that a mistake? smile, and she smiles back at him. 

“I’ll get you a towel,” he says, and she averts her eyes out of habit as he makes a run for the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later they are back at her front door, fully dressed. Scully picks the pizza box up off her dining room table and hands it to him sheepishly, and he drums his fingers against the thin cardboard lid as he tries to think of something to say. 

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” she says casually, like they just ate pizza and watched a movie, nothing more. 

Mulder sighs, potentially with relief, and nods. 

“I’ll bring you a coffee,” he offers.

“That’d be great,” she says casually, opening her front door for him. 

They wave at one another awkwardly, and she watches him walk down her hallway and out the building before she closes and locks her door.

Mulder is nothing like Jack, she’s sure of it. And she’s not going to run away this time—she’s going to see where he takes her. Where he takes them both. 

She’s never felt more excited in all her life.

[torscrawls]

Fishing for the Truth

It's time to post for @ecto-implosion! I got the privilege to write a fic for the wonderful and talented kad! Check out their wonderful artwork!

Summary:

Two half ghosts, one ghost dog, and one ghost hunter go fishing together. What could possibly go wrong? Now if only Vlad hadn’t gotten it in his head to suddenly tell Jack the truth about being a halfa, and if the fish in the lake hadn’t turned out to be murderous ghosts, the trip might have been quite nice. But of course Danny couldn’t be that lucky.

Word count: 10,575

You can read it on ao3 here!

--

Danny almost went ghost by instinct when his bedroom door suddenly slammed open with enough force to bounce off the wall, nearly hitting the person bursting into his room in the face.

“Son!” Jack screamed as Danny hastily hid the ectogun he had been tinkering with under the new dog clothes Jazz had made for Cujo before turning around in his desk chair.

“Dad,” Danny answered warily and thanked his unlucky star that Jack was so unobservant.

“What do you say about a fishing trip with your old man?”

Danny blinked in surprise. That wasn’t what he had been expecting, but for once he was having a slow Saturday and it had been ages since he had actually spent some time with his dad one-on-one. “That… That actually sounds fun.”

“Great!” Jack said in a tone of voice somewhere between enthusiastic and foghorn. And then he just stood there.

“You mean… now?” Danny hazarded a guess.

“No time like the present!”

“Yeah, sure. Just give me a minute, alright?”

“Okay! I’ll go pack,” Jack said before turning on his heel and exciting the room as suddenly as he had arrived. Danny let out a long breath, got up, and closed the door after his dad. As soon as the door had clicked shut he became aware of a low scratching sound.

Danny frowned and opened the door again. The hallway was empty.

He slowly closed it again, and… There! There it was again!

“Hello?” he hesitantly called out. He really hoped it wasn’t a ghost looking to mess with him.

There was no answer, except an increasing intensity of the scratching.

Danny slowly turned in place until his eyes landed on his closed closet doors. There. The sound was no doubt coming from inside his closet. Great. Not creepy at all. Danny slowly inched closer, raising a hand and preparing an ectoblast. He really didn’t want to get into a fight right now, he just wanted to have a nice and calm—and above all else; ordinary—Saturday.

The door handle was cold in his hand when he carefully gripped it and then slowly eased it open and—

And was met by a face full of slobbering green ghost-dog.

“Cujo! I almost shot you!” Danny complained with a laugh as he hugged the—currently— small dog tightly.

The dog in his arms simply barked and wiggled with happiness, his tongue leaving long, dripping green streaks on Danny’s cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah, you know I can’t stay mad at you.”

Cujo squirmed out of his arms and jumped to the ground, immediately going for one of his toys, nabbing it from the ground and impatiently showing it to Danny.

“I’m sorry boy. I don’t have time to play right now. I’m gonna go on a trip with my dad.”

Cujo tilted his head cutely in obvious confusion.

Danny couldn’t keep himself from patting it. “Sorry. Not today.”

Cujo whined but then went to the door, looking over his shoulder at Danny, as if waiting for him to follow.

“You can’t come with me. Even dad would notice that you’re a ghost.”

The mere thought of Jack finding out about Cujo made his stomach clench. His parents had gotten better when it came to their prejudices against ghosts, but they still had some way to go.

Cujo wasn’t aware of any of Danny’s internal struggles and simply stepped impatiently in place and whined again, eyes locked on the closed door.

Danny cast about for something to distract the little guy before he got too impatient and decided to simply go through the door. It was a testament to how far he had come that he hadn’t already. Danny almost laughed. What did it say that he trusted his dead dog to behave better than he did his own parents?

His eyes landed on the new clothes that Jazz had made for Cujo. She had insisted that it was a practice run before making clothes for a friend’s dog, but Danny was fairly certain she had just wanted to dress the little guy in some cute clothes. He couldn’t blame her.

“Hey, boy! Let’s see if these fit.”

What followed was a very undignified attempt to get the clothes on him, which Cujo seemed to interpret as a wrestling match; refusing to sit still and turning intangible at every opportunity.

“Come on! Do you want to come with me or not?”

That managed to get him to calm down. Sometimes Danny was certain the dog understood everything he said and simply chose not to listen a majority of the time. The little bastard was lucky he was so cute.

When he finally managed to get them on they fit perfectly. Of course. He hadn’t expected anything less from Jazz.

He held the little dog up in front of him, looking at the cute little sweater and goggles that covered his red eyes.

“Wow, Cujo! You almost look like a real boy!”

Cujo gave a small yip, looking very pleased with himself.

“Danny!” Came a booming call from downstairs, “Let’s go! Are you ready?!”

Danny tilted his head as he considered the dog hanging happily from his hands. “Maybe dad won’t notice that you’re a ghost underneath the clothes?”

Cujo barked, wagging his wispy ghost tail. Well, there was nothing he could do about that detail, but hopefully his dad was as unobservant as always. He also knew, intimately, that if he left the dog home alone he would come home to carnage and chaos. And nobody wanted that, least of all Danny himself.

So he adjusted Cujo into a more secure hold and opened the door. “Coming dad!”

Danny took the stairs two at a time as he muttered to Cujo hanging happily in his arms. “You stay small, alright? I’ll get you a treat when we get back.”

When he entered the hallway, Jack was standing by the door with two big bags and with a bright orange button down thrown over his usual jumpsuit. It was the same garish orange as the fabric beneath it and Danny hoped he didn’t think that made him look casual. Danny was unsure what kind of style he was going for, and he definitely wasn’t about to ask. If there was one thing he had learnt over the years, it was to not get involved in the fashion disaster that was his parents’ wardrobes.

His dad’s eyes lit up when he saw Cujo in Danny’s arms. “Who’s this? I don’t remember us having a dog?”

“I’m gho—” Danny cut himself off, “dog-sitting for… a friend. His name is Cujo.”

“Oh? What a little cutie!” Jack beamed before pausing and frowning. “Why is he so green?”

Danny cast around for a somewhat believable explanation while cursing himself for somehow forgetting that despite the clothes, Cujo was still very much a shining green dog. “Uuuuh, he… was attacked by a ghost? He got covered in ectoplasm and it got stuck in his fur?”

Jack made a cooing sound and leaned over to pet Cujo on the head. “Aww, poor little guy!”

“Yeah. It’s very sad. Tragic.” He cleared his throat. “So, can I bring him with us?”

Jack didn’t even hesitate before saying, “Of course he can come! The more the merrier!”

“Great!” Danny smiled in relief. “Then let’s go!”

And in line with Fenton tradition, they didn’t waste any time before getting in the car and driving off. Cujo sat in the backseat and stuck his head out the window, his ears flapping adorably in the wind and his tongue lolling.

Everything had been going so well, so it wasn’t until they had taken several turns off the main road that Danny straightened up and actually paid attention to where they were going. Or, more accurately, to where they weren’t going.

“…Dad? This isn’t the way to the lake?”

There was nothing out this way, nothing but—

No, it couldn’t be.

Jack turned to face him with a broad and oblivious smile. “Well, we need to pick him up!”

“Pick who up?” Danny asked with growing trepidation, even if he had a sinking feeling that he already knew the answer.

Jack didn’t have time to answer before they came to a screeching halt in front of an elaborately fancy gate.

Just outside there was a man. A very familiar man.

“Why are we picking up Vlad?!”

Jack looked back at him with a confused expression. “What do you mean? This was his idea! Didn’t I tell you?”

“You must have skipped that part,” Danny bit out through gritted teeth. And here Danny had thought that his dad had wanted to spend some quality time with him. Just the two of them without any ghosts or drama, and especially without any meddling billionaires. Of course not.

“Well! No harm! That just makes this a fun surprise! You love your uncle Vlad!”

“Yeah. Amazing. Love that guy.”

Danny watched as Vlad brushed himself off after having jumped back to save his feet from Jack’s patented Fenton parking style, and then he smiled towards the driver’s seat. The expression froze as soon as his eyes landed on Danny and he did a double take, blinked, and then frowned.

Danny took a small measure of satisfaction from the dread he could see growing on the man’s face. It would feel even better if it wasn’t mirrored on his own.

At least that meant he hadn’t planned to torture Danny specifically. Though, it might mean that he had planned to get his dad alone, which wasn’t exactly reassuring.

Maybe it was lucky that his dad had been clueless enough to invite him since it meant that Danny could keep an eye on Vlad and make sure he didn’t try to kill his dad. Again.

Even if that meant he had to go fishing with Vlad of all people. It would be fine, he had survived worse things. At least, that was what Danny tried to tell himself as he sighed and mourned the loss of his calm Saturday, before getting out of the car together with his dad with the same enthusiasm as someone going to the gallows.

Vlad was dressed in his usual immaculate suit and polished shoes. Absolutely deranged for someone that was going fishing.

Danny made sure his feelings about the man in front of him were clear on his face before he nodded in greeting. “Fruitloop.”

“Daniel,” Vlad replied with an infuriatingly disdainful look on his face.

Jack looked between Danny and Jack and then nodded with an overly serious expression on his face. “Jack.”

Danny burst out laughing at the same time as Jack did, only spurred on by Vlad’s groan of dismay. He already looked as if he regretted the whole trip. Danny grinned. Good.

Vlad cleared his throat and asked, eyes narrowed and glaring in Danny’s direction, “So, what is young Daniel doing here?”

“He wanted to join us on the fishing trip!”

Vlad raised both eyebrows in a smooth and practiced motion. “Did he now?”

Daniel raised his own eyebrows in an exaggerated mimicry of Vlad’s expression. “He did now. If it makes you happier, I didn’t know you were about to curse us with your presence either.”

Jack laughed and thumped Vlad on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “It’s great seeing you two get along so well! It’s been ages since we last hung out, just the two of us! It’s like the good old days!”

Vlad coughed before righting himself and straightening out his immaculate suit as if it had gotten wrinkled by simply being touched by Jack. “Yes. And we’re not just the two of us right now either, are we?

“Of course not! Danny-boy is always welcome!” Jack added with a beaming smile, oblivious to the obvious hint and the bite in Vlad’s tone.

“That’s great,” Vlad muttered and he almost looked… Disappointed?

Danny crossed his arms as he thought. This whole thing was a bit too straight-forward in comparison to Vlad’s usual tactics. If Jack went missing under mysterious circumstances while one a fishing trip with him, then surely that would place him under some kind of scrutiny and they would be able to trace it back to him?

It was all way too simple.

Vlad hadn’t been as bad as of late, but that didn’t mean that Danny trusted him. And the increased silence almost made him even more worried. He had to have another, less obvious, plan and Danny would figure it out.

Jack smiled widely, ignorant of the tense atmosphere. “Just imagine, the three of us, all alone on a boat with no one else in sight. Just the silence of nature with no one to disturb us.”

“I can’t wait,” Vlad bit out through clenched teeth.

Danny agreed. “Oh joy.”

“Let’s just get in the car,” Vlad said and made for the front seat. Danny smoothly stepped in his way to block him.

Danny made sure to pitch his voice low enough so that Jack wouldn’t hear him when he said, “If you think I’ll leave you in the front seat with my dad, you must be more delusional than I thought. You get to sit in the back with Cujo.”

Vlad looked affronted. “I won’t sit in the back with the dog!”

Danny turned to Jack and put on his most innocent face. “Daaad, I want to sit in the front with you! It’s been so long since we’ve been on a trip together!”

“Aw, Danny-boy, of course you can sit next to your old man! I’m sure Vladdie won’t mind sitting in the back since it’s such a short trip!”

Vlad sent Danny a nasty glare but somehow still managed to dredge up a tight smile, even if it came off more like a grimace than anything else. “Of course. No problem.”

Danny opened the back door and made a show of gesturing Vlad inside, who hesitated at the sight of Cujo with his hackles raised. Danny was so proud.

Danny smiled and made sure his fangs showed. “Be careful though, he’s known to bite.”

“Great.”

--

Danny turned up the music until it was impossible to hear Vlad from the backseat and thankfully he stopped trying to make conversation after the first ten minutes.

Somehow they managed to arrive at the lake without anyone ripping out anyone’s throats. Danny was honestly surprised.

They came to a stop in a deserted parking lot surrounded by trees. Danny could just about make out the glittering shine of what he assumed was the lake through the trees and, right by it, the outline of a dark cabin. He really hoped that was the boat rental Jack had been talking about during the drive, and not a murder cabin. When they got back Danny would have to have a talk with Sam about cutting back on the horror during their movie nights.

As they got out of the car, Jack brought out one of the stuffed bags he had packed and proudly pulled out three overalls, two green ones in different sizes—clearly intended for Jack and Danny—and one in a dark gray. “I got us matching clothes!”

“Oh, you didn’t have to—” Vlad began but cut himself off when Jack reached back into the bag. “And you even got hats. Of course.”

And he had; bucket hats, all in matching beige. Danny was delighted. They were going to look so ridiculous and Vlad would absolutely hate it.

On the other hand, he was fairly certain that Vlad would refuse to wear it. Which was why, when Vlad accepted the clothes from Jack, Danny was surprised to see that the man almost looked touched. He could almost swear he even saw Vlad smiling down at the hat in his hands before he put it on.

They all changed into the clothes and Jack looked them over with a huge smile. “What do you think, son? We match!”

“They’re great, dad. Thank you,” Danny said and found that he really meant it. His gratefulness sat like a warm weight in his chest as he fiddled with one of the buckles.

And then the sight of Vlad in an oversized overall with his fancy dress-shirt with rolled up sleeves and polished shoes made Danny snort. Vlad’s subsequent glare, combined with the fact that he didn’t take any of it off, made him laugh out loud.

Vlad sniffed. “If you are laughing at me because of my clothes, I just want to inform you that you look the same.”

Danny did a little twirl in his green overalls and bucket hat, “We can’t all wear it as well as I do.”

Jack sat down on his haunches and petted Cujo on the head with an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. “I’m sorry, little guy. I would have brought a hat for you too if I had known you would come with us.”

Cujo yipped and pushed his head into Jack’s hand.

Danny felt an overwhelming wave of love for his dad. Then the moment was broken by Vlad’s irritating voice, “He sure is a strange dog, Daniel. What kind did you say he was again?”

“He’s just a normal dog,” Danny said as he crossed his arms.

Vlad raised one eyebrow. “He’s green.”

Jack looked up from the happy puppy. “The poor guy was in an accident.”

“Really now?”

Danny nodded. “Really. A ghost related accident, poor guy.”

It didn’t get him the reaction he had been aiming for and instead of annoyed, Vlad looked between Jack and Cujo with a thoughtful expression.

Jack straightened up and clapped his hands as he announced, “Well, I’ll go get the boat. You three wait here!”

And before either of them could complain or offer to come with him, he jogged away between the trees, leaving Danny and Vlad alone to eye each other warily and Cujo to whine at the loss of the attention.

After a few tense moments, Danny let out a deep sigh. “Alright, out with it. What are you really planning?”

Vlad tutted. “Don't involve yourself in this.” 

“I think I’ve earned involving myself after the first time you tried to kill me and my parents.” 

“Fine! Fine. I want to… I want to get them back, okay?” 

Danny frowned. “You can't get my mom, I've already told you that multiple—” 

“Not like that! Just. As friends. As partners. All three of us.” 

"Oh,” Danny wrinkled his nose. “Gross.” 

“Not like that,” Vlad repeated as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just want my friends back, okay?”

It seemed to pain him to admit it and Danny blinked in surprise at the admittance. “Are you saying you're lonely?”

Vlad was silent.

Danny held up a hand. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight. You turn evil, try to kill your only friends and then you complain because you feel a bit lonely?” 

“I didn't—” Vlad began and Danny opened his mouth to argue, but thankfully Vlad cut himself off as he seemed to realize the futility in arguing when they both knew the truth. Instead he said simply, “Yes.”

Danny dragged a hand down his face. “Ancients. I can't believe this.”

To Danny’s horror, Vlad actually looked hesitant as he said, “I—I had actually planned to…” Vlad trailed off.

Danny had a horrible realization of just where that sentence had been going. “You planned on telling him?”

Vlad looked away.

“You were! You have got to be kidding.”

“No. I am not jesting, Daniel,” Vlad said as he dragged all his formality around him like a protective cloak.

“You think that will go over well?” Danny asked incredulously.

“Well. He doesn’t seem to hold your little mongrel over there accountable for his accident,” Vlad said with a nod to Cujo.

“I can’t believe I have to say this, but you’re not a cute little dog, Vlad.”

“I am well aware.”

Danny sighed. “You’re still going to do it, aren’t you?”

“You can’t stop me,” Vlad said and he had never sounded more like a stubborn toddler. “I'm finally ready to be honest.”

“Good for you. I'm not.”

“I really don’t care,” Vlad sneered and Danny almost felt relieved at the familiar disdain in his voice.

He probably would have if he wasn’t suddenly and acutely aware of how uncomfortable this whole trip was going to be. “Ancients, I can’t believe I’m third-wheeling you and my dad while you come out to him!” Then he paused as a thought hit him. “Why only him, though? I thought it was my mom that you were obsessed with?”

This made Vlad look back at him with a scoff. “Have you met Maddie? She wouldn’t let me finish explaining before absolutely wrecking me.”

He ended the sentence with a dreamy expression and Danny wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Again. Gross. I don’t wanna know about your fantasies.”

But he couldn’t really deny that his dad was the easiest to influence out of his parents.

Danny stared up at the sky to gather strength for three blessed seconds before looking back at Vlad and asking, “So what was your plan here? Just to say ‘I’m Plasmius, sorry for trying to kill you but I’m not evil anymore, I promise. And oh, by the way, ghosts aren’t all bad. Trust me’?.”

“I don’t think I like your tone.”

“And I don’t like your face, but here we are. So come on, spill. What was the plan?”

“I know they’ve been getting… better about ghosts.”

Danny nodded. “Because of the hard work of me and my friends, and—you know—actually talking to them. Hard work that was not helped by you attacking them and the town repeatedly, I might add.”

“I haven’t attacked you and your friends, or anyone for that matter, in months,” Vlad hissed out.

Danny threw his hands up in the air. “Well, then! All is forgiven. You haven’t tried to kill anyone in months! How generous.”

Vlad combed a hand through his hair, looking agitated. “I’m actually trying here.”

“And I don’t believe you.”

“I just want to tell him the truth, alright?!”

And damn it all to the deepest parts of the Zone, but he actually sounded sincere. And just like that, Danny’s Saturday had morphed from nice to sit-com level mix-up and all the way to trip from hell.

Vlad couldn’t just tell his dad the truth. Not before Danny even had a chance to do it himself.

“Tell me what, V-man?”

The two of them froze like rabbits in headlights as Jack came back with a wide grin and a set of keys dangling from one hand.

Vlad opened his mouth and Danny gave Vlad a warning kick to the shin. “Nothing. Just that…” Vlad trailed off.

Danny jumped in with an overly cheerful, “That he has missed hanging out with you!”

“Aww! I missed spending time with you too! That’s why this trip is going to be such a blast! Here, I got you two fishing rods and some bait! The boat is down by the water and I even managed to get the motor to start!”

That was when Danny became aware of a continuous roaring sound in the background. He slowly asked, “…And you left it running?”

After a short sprint down to the water to make sure the boat was still there—thankfully it was, even though the cost for the gas would surely be astronomical—they turned the motor off and loaded all their supplies in.

Danny had finally started to relax, so of course that was when Jack decided to whip out a fishing rod that had a suspicious green shine to it. “Meet the new Fenton Fishing Rod™! It’s guaranteed to fish out any dastardly ghosts hiding in the depths!”

Danny took a small step away from the thing. “What does it do exactly?”

Jack beamed, oblivious to the tense atmosphere he had created and the stress of his companions. “It attracts ghosts and entices them to take the bait.”

“That’s… awesome,” Danny said as he exchanged a look with Vlad and hated the feeling of camaraderie that passed between them at their shared discomfort and exasperation in the face of the gadget.

“Right? I can’t wait to see what kind of ghastly catches we’ll get!”

“Weren’t we supposed to catch dinner?” Danny asked carefully, “I’m not really in the mood for the undead kind. Again.”

“Oh, that’s right! Not to worry though, it’s turned off right now and it also functions like a regular fishing rod, fully capable of catching non-dead fish!”

Danny eyed it warily. “That’s great dad, but maybe try not to lure any ghosts to us tonight, okay? We’re just here for regular fishing, remember?”

He had just wanted to spend some ghost-free time with his dad, not to sit in a boat with him and Vlad and use a fishing rod that attracted every ghost in the vicinity to their location. Thinking about it logically, he really should have known better.

Danny heaved a sigh of defeat. This would end in disaster.

Cujo jumped into the boat with enthusiasm.

Jack looked at Cujo with clear worry on his face. “Are you sure the little guy will be okay on the boat? Should I have gotten him a life jacket?”

“He’ll be fine. He floats. Besides, he can help with the catches, can’t you boy?” Danny held out the net for Cujo. Cujo barked back an affirmative, grabbing the net and sitting down in the back of the boat, tail hitting the side of the boat with a hollow thump thump as he impatiently waited for the rest of them to get in.

“Well then, the little guy has the right idea! Let’s go!” Jack said as he too jumped onboard, and then there wasn’t any more time for regrets as both Danny and Vlad had to throw themselves onto the boat to get on before Jack took off.

Half an hour later Danny found himself contemplating how far he would get if he jumped in the water and swam for shore before his dad would come and fish him out of the water.

The minutes crawled by agonizingly slowly as they sat in silence. Just the three of them and the quiet waters around them, the setting sun, the clear sky, the sound of birdsong, the gentle rustle of leaves in the trees.

It should have been exactly what he needed to wind down, but Danny found himself hating every second of it. He was acutely aware of Vlad sitting such a short distance away, surely about to try and—once again—destroy his whole life. The only saving grace was that Jack had situated himself in the middle, creating a small barrier between the two of them.

As if hearing Danny’s thoughts, Vlad broke the silence with a casual, “Actually, Jack, there was something I wanted to tell you.” 

“What is it Vladdie?”

Danny panicked. He couldn’t just say it!

Vlad took a deep breath, set his shoulders—oh shit, he was actually going to do it—and said, “I'm actually a gh—” 

“Ah!” Danny cut him off, “I think I got something on the hook!”

Jack leaned closer to him, excited about the possible catch. “You do?”

“Oh, no, must have been my imagination. My bad.”

“Of course. A simple mistake to make,” Vlad bit out, but thankfully stayed silent afterwards.

Or at least that’s what Danny had hoped, but not even a minute later, Vlad broke the silence as he turned to Jack, “So… Jack. Have you met Phantom lately?”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “What are you fishing for?”

Vlad smirked. “Dinner, dear Daniel.”

The asshole. Of course he would get Danny back.

Jack paused, uncharacteristically hesitant. “That ghost boy… I think we might have been a bit wrong about him.”

Danny watched with satisfaction as Vlad froze at his dad’s words. “…What?”

A few months ago, Danny would have reacted in the same way, but by now he was aware that his parents had been less prone to shooting first and asking questions later, and that—combined with the fact that they had actually proposed a truce a few months back—had made him realize that they were starting to change the way the saw ghosts. Finally.

It still warmed him to hear his dad say it.

Jack fiddled with the fishing rod in his hands as he spoke, “Well, me and Maddie have been rethinking some things lately and maybe… Maybe we’ve been a bit too zealous and strict with our judgments.”

 “…Strict?” Vlad asked faintly.

“Yes. We judged all the ghosts without even really knowing them. We should be using this opportunity to learn more about them, not just destroy them. Some of the ghosts in town haven’t attacked anyone in all the years they’ve been there and there really isn’t anything indicating that they’re planning to.”

“Right. You seem to have really thought this through,” Vlad said, seeming stunned.

Jack clapped Danny on the shoulder, almost tipping him overboard. “It’s mostly thanks to Danny and his friends. They managed to get us to see that we let our emotions cloud our judgment a tiny bit.”

“Quite a bit,” Danny corrected under his breath, but he was still very proud of how far both his parents had come. Only a few years ago he wouldn’t have thought this to ever be possible, that he could have a calm conversation about ghosts with his dad.

Vlad frowned and seemed to mull it over but before he had the time to work up to saying something in response—and probably try to reveal his secrets again and subsequently tear down all the work Danny had done over the last few years with keeping his own secret—there was a tug on Vlad’s fishing rod.

Jack immediately zeroed in on it. “I think you have something on the hook there, V-man!”

“So it seems.”

“Come on, let’s reel it in!”

Vlad got the fish up and Jack grabbed it from the line, unhooked it and snapped its neck before dumping it in the bucket at their feet. Cujo seemed very happy at the new addition to their boat, and wouldn’t stop trying to stick his nose into the bucket, no matter how many times Danny tried to push him away.

“Thanks for the help,” Vlad said and was that… fondness in Vlad’s voice?

This whole situation was starting to weird Danny out.

Vlad hadn’t tried to kill his dad even once during the whole trip. It was unnerving.

Maybe it was time to poke the hornets’ nest a bit.

Danny turned to smirk at Vlad as he innocently asked, “Since we’re on the subject of ghosts, Vladdie, what do you think about the ghost Plasmius?”

To his credit, Vlad simply blinked in surprise before turning to stare deadpan at Danny. “Are you baiting me?”

Danny was mortified to find himself almost laughing at that comment. He needed to get control of the conversation back, and fast. “I fucking hate you,” Danny muttered before turning to Jack and loudly asking, “Dad, what do you think about the ghost Plasmius?”

Jack hummed in thought, leaning forward to help in trying to keep Cujo out of the bucket.

Vlad leaned back behind Jack and, in a warning tone of voice, hissed out, “Daniel. What are you doing?” 

Danny whispered back, “What are you doing?!”

Jack didn’t seem to hear the whispered argument taking place behind his back as he took his time to answer.

Vlad let out a frustrated huff. “I'm trying to tell him. I'm finally ready to be honest. 

“Good for you. I'm not.” It wouldn’t be a big leap for his parents to take if they found out and accepted Vlad as a ghost.

Vlad opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Jack spoke up in front of them, prompting both of them to sit up straight. “I think that ghost was one of the bad ones even though he seems to have mellowed out a bit, which is fascinating because we didn’t used to believe that ghosts could change!”

“Neither did I,” Vlad said low enough that Danny doubted Jack could hear him. Annoyingly, he raised his voice again as he sucked in a deep breath and said, “Jack. What I’ve been trying to say is that I...”

Cujo chose that moment to turn intangible and simply stick his head though the bucket instead and Danny lunged for him before his dad could see. Which meant that he completely missed trying to interrupted Vlad as he continued,

“I’m a halfa. I’m half dead.”

Danny froze with one hand in the back of Cujo’s shirt and the other trying to pry the fish out of his mouth. Fuck.

Jack patted Vlad on the shoulder. “We’re all a little dead inside, it’s okay.”

“That’s not what I—”

“It doesn’t make me think any less of you.”

Danny burst out laughing and Vlad slumped where he sat, looking utterly defeated. “Lucky me.”

Danny almost felt pity for the man. He managed to get Cujo to let go of the fish, inspected what was left of it and deemed it a lost cause. He held it out for his dad. “Hey, do you want to give him the rest? I don’t think we should eat this.”

Jack lit up and immediately took it upon himself to try and get Cujo to sit and give paw, which Danny knew from experience the dog knew, but often simply refused to do. Danny, meanwhile, turned to Vlad and said, “Don’t waste your breath. He has a remarkable ability not to see what’s right in front of him. Especially if it’s something he doesn’t believe is possible.”

“What do you mean son? I can clearly see this little cutie-pie! Yes, you are. Come on, boy! Sit! No, don’t bark. Sit!”

Danny gave Vlad a meaningful glance. “See?” Then he turned to Jack. “Try ‘play dead’ instead, he’s really good at that one.”

Vlad heaved a deep sigh.

“You are such a good boy! Well, now we have to catch some more fish for dinner. We wouldn’t want you going hungry!” Danny didn’t even feel miffed that his dad seemed more concerned with feeding his dog than him. He understood.

Jack smiled down at Cujo who sat at his feet. “We’re going to have a fin-tastic dinner, just you wait!”

Vlad snorted.

Danny turned to stare at the man, shocked at the genuine sound of happiness, but Vlad wasn’t looking at him. He was making a casual comment to Jack, making him laugh in turn, and suddenly Danny could see them as they must have been in college. With dad and mom laughing and ribbing each other as they tried to one-up each other, and Vlad right alongside them, the voice of reason to his parents’ insanity.

His thoughts were interrupted by something tugging on his line and Danny turned his attention to reeling in the frankly massive bass he had managed to hook. “This one is huge! Help me reel it in!”

Cujo immediately latched onto the rod beneath Danny’s hands and started pulling. He didn’t really help much, but Danny appreciated the gesture.

“Awww, Danno, he seems to really like you! It’s going to be hard to give him back to your friend!”

“Yeah, haha,” Danny laughed awkwardly as he heaved the fish the last of the way into the boat. “When I give him back. Right.”

The massive bass flopped to the bottom of the boat and Danny had to grab for Cujo again to keep him from performing another impromptu dissection then and there.

“Wow! Great job son!” Jack praised as he grabbed the fish and promptly put it out of its misery. “That’s going to go great on the spit later!” He thumped Danny on the back, once again almost pitching him over the edge. “Soon you’re going to be stronger than your old man!”

“Thanks dad,” Danny said, trying to ignore the way his cheeks heated at the praise. Then the moment was ruined as he caught sight of Vlad staring at him with something akin to jealousy in his eyes. So Danny gave him a pointed look and added, “The fish won’t be the only thing getting grilled later.”

Vlad scoffed but didn’t have time to respond before Jack exclaimed, “Aw, you found the marshmallows? I wanted it to be a surprise!”

“What? No, I—” Danny cut himself off. “Wait, we have marshmallows?”

“For dessert!” Jack confirmed, then sheepishly added, “There might not be that many left though since I sneaked a couple while waiting for you in the hallway.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine, dad.” He couldn’t help but add, with a glance at Vlad, “At least, if someone doesn’t mess things up.”

“Me? I’m obviously just here because of the good company and relaxation,” Vlad said in an obviously sarcastic deadpan. Despite this; Danny had never actually seen Vlad this relaxed before. No murder attempts. No villainous monologues. No deranged plans to ruin Danny’s whole life.

He didn’t know what to make of it.

Jack didn’t seem to have any such problems but the issue was that he had seemingly decided to land on gratitude since he said, “You’ve been so busy lately with all your new obligations. It’s nice that you take the time to be here.”

And Vlad looked genuinely touched. This was all so weird.

“I’m the one that should be grateful. And also ask for forgiveness.” Vlad took a deep breath. “What I'm trying to say is that I—” 

“Want to spend more time with you and mom! That’s so nice of you Vlad.” Danny cut in, a wide smile fixed on his face.

“Aw, Vladdie! I missed you too!”

“Yes. Right.” Vlad drummed his fingers on the handle of his fishing rod. “That’s great, but I really wanted to say was that I’m—”

“Hungry! He's so hungry, dad!” Danny cut him off again. “Better focus on the fishing so we get that dinner!” 

“Good to see you haven’t lost your appetite!” Jack laughed, “Do you remember those eating contests we used to have back in college? And that time you ate twenty—”

Vlad looked nauseous when he cut Jack off, “Yes. Yes, I remember. Danny’s right, let’s focus on fishing instead.”

“You’re right! Just you wait, I’m going to catch a massive fish so we can all eat our fill!”

“You really think you can beat that?” Danny asked with a nod at his earlier catch and a challenging grin.

Jack smiled wide, competition making his eyes sparkle. “I’ll show you what the Fenton Fishing Rod™ can do!”

Vlad sniffed, but wasn’t completely able to hide a small smile of his own. “It can’t beat proper technique.”

“Oh, it’s on!” Jack laughed and flicked a switch on his fishing rod. Danny’s smile faltered, he might have—just slightly—miscalculated with this challenge.

The effects were immediate.

As the fishing rod lit up in neon green, it was accompanied by a horrible screeching sound that seemed to reverberate in Danny’s skull. Danny instinctively tried to cover his ears and saw Vlad flinch violently, almost tipping himself over the side of the boat in the process.

“Turn it off!” Danny half-screamed to be heard over the noise.

Jack, apparently unable to hear the ruckus he was causing, said, “What’s wrong?”

From next to Danny he saw Cujo growl and start to grow in size, tearing his new clothes. The boat dipped at the added weight, tilting precariously as the side Cujo occupied almost took in water.

Danny let go of his left ear and gestured for Cujo to stand down. “Down boy!”

Vlad, thankfully, managed to get his hands on the fishing rod and switched it off.

Both Danny and Vlad slumped down in relief when the sound cut off. Cujo immediately started to shrink back to his regular size and Danny absentmindedly patted his head to calm him. He shook his head to try and get rid of the ringing sound still echoing in his skull. “I think that thing does the opposite of attracting ghosts.”

Jack wasn’t listening. He was staring at Cujo who was currently nuzzling up to Danny’s hand. “He’s a… ghost?”

Danny tensed up, cursing himself for not realizing sooner that of course Jack would have put two and two together after seeing Cujo’s little size-changing stunt. He immediately grabbed the pup off of the floor of the boat and cradled him protectively in his arms, eyeing his dad warily. Danny cursed the fact that the three of them were currently trapped on a small boat in the middle of a lake, with the only way out inevitably revealing his own ghostly status. Of course, he would do it without hesitation if it meant keeping Cujo safe, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “Yes. He is.”

“But…” Jack frowned. “But he’s so cute?”

“Yes. And he’s a ghost. We’ve been over this, right? Not all ghosts are evil.”

Jack seemed to war with himself for a while before he bent forward, towards Cujo and Danny instinctively tensed; ready to snatch the puppy away. But his dad simply reached out a careful hand and waited. Cujo didn’t even hesitate before leaning forward and sniffing the hand. Then he started slobbering and licking all over it. Of course. Danny stared at his dad as he laughed at the currently small ghost and positively cooed, “Aren’t you a cutie.”

Cujo yipped and preened at the attention and Danny found himself smiling as he put the dog down on the floor. He immediately jumped towards Jack and before Danny could blink his dad had an armful of happy, wiggling ghost dog.

“What if he’s just biding his time before attacking you?” Danny asked pointedly, but he couldn’t keep a big smile from his face, “Look at him, he’s an evil mastermind. I think he’s planning to slobber all over your face again as soon as you let your guard down.”

Jack laughed, rubbing Cujo’s tummy, much to the dog’s delight. “Ooooh, so evil. Yes you are. Such an evil little ghost.”

Danny joined in the laughter, relief and delight at the sight in front of him making him feel almost light headed. He couldn’t believe his dad laughed. Actually laughed. About ghosts. Danny wouldn’t have been able to dampen the smile on his face even if he tried.

Vlad looked from Cujo, to Jack, and back. “You’re… okay with him?”

Danny couldn’t fault him for his obvious shock.

Jack tried to put the dog back down but Cujo was having none of it as he whined and just jumped back up into his arms and started licking his face instead. “I don’t really see any reason not to be.” Jack tried to speak between huffs of laughter as he did his best to ignore the dog currently doing his best to occupy his whole face. “As long as he’s such a good boy. Yeah, who’s a good boy? You are!”

Cujo barked in agreement, tail going a mile a minute.

Vlad stared at them with an incredulous expression. “You changed your mind. Because of a dog?”

“I know it’s not very scientific. But Vladdie, what we were doing before wasn’t any better! Just think about all the evidence—”

Vlad held up a hand to stop him. “I assure you, you don’t have to convince me. It’s just— A dog. That’s all it took for you to change your mind? Petting a dog?”

“Well, I’ve never really interacted with a ghost like this before! And who can say no to this little guy?”

He got another face-long lick for his efforts.

“You’re impossible,” Vlad said with a shake of his head, but Danny was fairly certain he didn’t imagine the fondness in his voice.

They were interrupted by Jack’s fishing rod almost getting dragged into the water from where it had laid forgotten and propped against the side of the boat. Jack managed to grab a hold of it at the last second and smiled down at Cujo. “Come on boy, I think we got something on the hook! Let’s reel another one in!”

“Wait,” Danny said as he wrinkled his nose, “Is it just me or does something smell fishy?”

Vlad heaved a sigh, “Daniel. I can assure you that I have no ulterior motives. I’ve already told you what I plan to—”

Danny cut him off and watched with a frown as his dad and Cujo wrestled with the fishing rod. “Not you. Something else. Something… rotten?”

Miraculously, Jack managed to get the fish out of the water without tipping himself or Cujo into the lake, but when they got it up into the boat the fish was half-rotted away with big vacant eyes and way too many teeth in its gaping mouth.

The three of them stared at their catch in silence, even joined by Cujo staring down at their disgusting catch without any of his usual antics.

Danny leaned away from it and asked, “…What kind of fish is that?”

“A dead one?” Vlad said with a tilt of his head and an almost hopeful tone of voice.

As if to prove him wrong it twitched, flopping almost aggressively on the bottom of the boat. The wet slapping noises, together with the stench made Danny wrinkle his nose in disgust. “It’s a... zombie fish?”

That got Jack’s attention and he immediately got to his feet, rocking the boat, and raising his fishing rod high in the air. “It has to be the work of some ghost! I knew the Fenton Fishing Rod™ worked!”

And before either Danny or Vlad could stop him, Jack turned the fishing rod back on.

The whole lake seemed to heave. The water churned as if whipped up by an unseen storm just under the surface and the rocking of the boat got even worse. Danny reached up and grabbed a hold of his dad before he could topple over the edge and used a hint of ghostly strength to force him to sit down. The screeching in his ears was overpowered by a gurgling sound emanating from all around them. The fish on the bottom of their boat kept on flopping, its eyes now a glowing red. “That can’t be good.”

A fish suddenly jumped out of the water, aiming straight for Jack’s head. Vlad caught it in his hand, looked down at the gaping mouth with razor-sharp teeth in clear disgust, and hurled it back into the lake.

Cujo whined and grew rapidly in size and Danny desperately tried to not get toppled over into the lake as the boat rocked.

“Maybe you should turn it off, dad?!” Danny shouted over the aggravating noise coming from the cursed fishing rod.

Jack turned to him with an offended expression. “I won’t get scared by a little fish! Don’t worry, son. I’ll protect you! Besides, maybe this ghost isn’t evil.”

Another fish jumped up, and Danny threw himself to the bottom of the boat to avoid getting a chunk bitten out of his face. “Oh, it’s definitely evil.”

Cujo growled at the fish and swiped at the next one that jumped up, hitting it out of the air.

“Good boy!” Danny called as he took shelter between Cujo’s large legs. The boat was tilting precariously and on the verge of taking in water. It wouldn’t hold out much longer.

And of course that was when something bumped up against the bottom of the boat. Hard.

Vlad gripped the railing on both sides as he stared down between his knees at the hull. “…What was that?” Then he winced and looked up, hands coming up to cover his ears as he said, “Jack, I really think you should—”

Jack wasn’t listening as he cast his line over the edge of the boat and into the water. “Don’t worry! I’ll take care of the ghost!”

“No! Just turn it—” Vlad tried to grab for the fishing rod, missed, lunged for it again, managed to snatch it out of Jack’s hand, overbalanced and then slowly tipped over the edge of the boat. Danny watched the whole thing unfold with the kind of delighted awe you got when knowing that you were watching a once in a lifetime event.

As an added bonus, the noise stopped when the fishing rod disappeared beneath the surface of the lake together with Vlad. Danny felt Cujo relax behind him and absentmindedly petted one of his front legs.

Almost immediately the rain of deadly fish stopped, the lake turning almost eerily still and silent. Except for the loud sputtering as Vlad breached the surface.

“Vladdie!” Jack called, “You okay down there? You should have told me if you wanted the Fenton Fishing Rod™ so badly!”

Vlad sputtered as he started clumsily swimming towards the boat, no doubt weighted down by the overall and his fancy dress shirt. The bucket hat bobbed on the surface next to his waving arms. “I don’t want your cursed fishing rod, you oaf! Help me up!”

Cujo let out a sudden growl and Danny turned to calm him, but instead caught sight of what he must have spotted. A teeming mass of something was moving towards their boat, and it was coming on fast. Was it the fishes? Why hadn’t they calmed down? Maybe the fishing rod was still emitting that horrible screeching sound beneath the surface.

Danny eyed the approaching mass and then Vlad’s clumsy attempt at making his way back to the side of the boat. Too slow. “Hey, dad? Maybe start the motor?”

Jack turned to him with a frown. “Shouldn’t we fish Vlad out first?”

“He’ll be fine. Look!” He gestured to the writhing mass that was now way too close for comfort. “Just go!”

“I can hear you!” Vlad shouted from down in the water where he was trying to grab a hold of the side of the boat.

Danny turned to face Vlad, patience long since run out. “Then get in, old man!”

Jack cranked the engine. It didn’t start. He did it again. Nothing. The sound of the motor stalling made dread pool in Danny’s stomach. This was just not panning out to be the relaxing evening he had envisioned with his dad.

Jack sat back on his heels. “I think we’re out of gas.”

“Of course we are,” Danny said with a groan. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we don’t leave the engine running.”

The mass in the water started to breach the surface in a splashing, whirling mess of small bodies. It would soon be upon them.

Danny resigned himself to having to fight ghost fish with his dad and Vlad. Cujo let out a bark from behind him, reminding him that he at least had someone competent on his side. “I hope you brought some weapons.” He definitely didn’t want to have to reveal his ghostly ability to shoot ectoblasts because of some fish.

“Of course I did!” Jack sounded offended. “I don’t go anywhere without them!”

Jack produced two ectoguns from only the Ancients knew where and for once Danny was glad for his parents’ inability to go anywhere without weapons.

Danny grabbed one of the guns and before his dad could comment that Danny didn’t know how to handle it, he had checked the ammunition, loaded it, and taken aim at the closest part of the writhing, teeming, mass of bodies beneath the surface, now only a short distance away. “This has to be a new record; we didn’t even have time to catch dinner before it started fighting back!”

Jack barked out a laugh and thankfully didn’t question his apparent sudden gun proficiency, simply loaded his own weapon and took aim as well.

Danny fired off a couple of shots, but there were just so many and there didn’t seem to be an end to them. Maybe Vlad could get to the fishing rod and turn it off or destroy it?

“Vlad!” Danny called and Vlad paused in his effort to get back in the boat. “Get the fishi—”

And that was when something grabbed Vlad and dragged him beneath the surface. Well, there went that plan.

No matter. Vlad would be able to fend for himself. But then Danny saw Jack and his distressed expression at Vlad’s sudden disappearance and knew that his dad was too nice to just leave his friend to his apparent fate as fish food.

Danny heaved a sigh and said to Cujo, “Stay boy. Guard.”

Then he tossed the gun to his dad and called out, “I’ll get him! Stay with the boat!” before diving into the murky water.

--

Ten minutes later Danny found himself dragging Vlad out of the lake and onto the rocky shore, both of them dripping with a putrid mix of water and ghost fish intestines. Somewhere along the way Danny had picked up a fishing line and then promptly tangled himself up in it during the swim-slash-underwater-fight to get out of reach of the now definitely confirmed murderous fish.

He glanced over his shoulder as they stumbled out of the water and noted that the boat was still out on the lake. After everything that had happened he was almost surprised to see it floating, which most likely meant that Cujo and his dad were safe. Even so; he doubted that they would get their deposit back after all they had put the poor boat through.

Vlad groaned from his position slumped over Danny’s shoulder and Danny scoffed. “Don’t be so dramatic, they only took a couple of small bites out of you.”

Vlad glared at him but the effect was slightly diminished by the limp hair obscuring his eyes and making him look more like a drowned cat than an intimidating half-ghost. “So sorry if my almost death is inconveniencing you.”

“It is, thank you for noticing,” Danny snarked back, almost glad that they were back to ribbing each other after the day’s strangeness.

But then Vlad blinked and his glare changed into something too soft for Danny’s liking before he said, “You didn’t really have to come save me, you know?”

Danny tried to laugh it off, but it came out sounding strangled. “Well, someone had to drag your sorry ass out of that maw. I would never live it down if my nemesis met his end as fish food.”

“Still, I appreciate it. Especially since I know you don’t want to risk your dad seeing you as a ghost.”

“Well, I’m so sorry that just because you suddenly want to scream to the whole world about you being a ghost, I’m not ready to do the same. You should respect my ghostly privacy, thank you very much.”

Vlad let out a sigh and, to Danny’s horror, he said, “You’re right, I’ll try to find a better way of telling him.”

The surprise he felt at Vlad agreeing with anything he said was overshadowed by the sudden arrival of Cujo as he jumped up on Danny and almost tipped the both of them over. At least he was back to being small again. Small mercies. “Hi, boy! Weren’t you with—”

“A ghost? What do you mean by that?”

Danny whipped his head around and found his dad staring at him with wide eyes. “Oh shit. How did you—” Danny’s eyes jumped out to the lake, but the boat was still there. He shouldn’t have assumed that meant that his dad was as well.

Then he realized that he should have denied it.

“Son. You’re a…?”

Danny couldn’t believe that this was how his dad found out about him being a ghost; with a sopping wet Vlad hanging over his shoulders, guts in his hair, a fishing line stringing him up like a tied up ham, and with Cujo nipping at his heels.

Before he could come up with an answer that was even close to coherent, Cujo grabbed hold of a loose end of the fishing line and pulled, and before Danny could do more than utter a short yell of surprise, he found himself with a mouth-full of dirt after falling flat on his face.

He immediately decided that facing the ground was preferable to facing his dad right now and stayed right where he was as grumbled out, “Of course when you finally manage to out someone it’s me. I guess that’s what I get from trying to stop you the whole day.”

“Son—” His dad said at the same time as Vlad protested, “I didn’t mean to—”

Danny waved them both off, not bothering to pick himself up off the ground. He would just stay here, facedown in the dirt, thank you very much. “I know you didn’t mean to. Yes. Okay. We’re doing this, huh? I’m a ghost. Half-ghost. You got me.”

“Half…?” He heard his dad trail off, sounding very confused. At least he didn’t seem angry. He would take any silver lining he could get at this point.

Danny gave a half-hearted thumbs up from his prone position. “I’m not fully dead, don’t worry.”

There was silence for a short while and then his dad said, sounding exasperated, “Can you get up off the ground so we can talk?”

Danny shook his head, only succeeding in further shoving his head into the dirt. “No, I think I’m good right here, thanks.”

Then he felt a small tongue on his cheek and snorted. “That tickles!” And then he realized that Cujo was chewing on something wet and purple that smelled alarmingly of rotten fish. Danny sat up immediately and grabbed for the piece of fish-intestine that Cujo had nabbed off of Danny’s face. “No, bad boy! Don’t eat that!”

Cujo simply jumped out of the way, still happily chewing away and Danny groaned.

Then he looked up to find both Vlad and his dad staring at him; Vlad with an expression halfway between disappointment and exasperation and his dad with an uncharacteristically hesitant expression. Well, this was awkward. Before he could decide on what to say, Vlad held out a hand. “Come on, get up.”

Danny stared at the offered hand. “Wow. You really just needed to get outside for a while, huh? Like airing out dusty clothes. Aired the evil right out of you.” He grabbed the hand and let Vlad pull him to his feet. “Or wait. Did you hit your head when you fell in?”

Vlad rolled his eyes. “Very funny.”

“Thank you.” Danny grinned, trying to grab for any semblance of normalcy in this situation. He dusted himself off as well as he could, decided the effort wasn’t worth it and that there was no real reason to keep up appearances anymore, and simply turned intangible to get all the gross stuff off of him.

Jack kept on staring. Danny couldn’t take the tension anymore and promptly struck a pose, jazz hands and all, and said, “Ta daa!”

Vlad groaned and buried his face in one of his hands, but at least it succeeded in getting Jack to finally blink and take a breath.

“Well.” Jack paused, then sighed. “I think I need to have another talk with your mother when we get back.” He sent a pointed look at Danny. “With you this time.”

“Alright.” This wasn’t how he had envisioned this going down, but he could work with it.

Vlad looked between the two of them with a frown. “Oh, so now he listens.”

Danny couldn’t help it, he broke out into laughter. From the release of tension and from the absolutely petulant look on Vlad’s face.

Thankfully, Jack seemed to finally connect all the dots he had been handed over the course of the afternoon. “Wait. You’re also…?”

“Half ghost. Yes,” Vlad said and made as if to straighten out his suit, but since he was currently wearing an overall he simply ended up grabbing the straps and looking like the world’s most pompous hillbilly. The image was further perfected by a piece of ghostly entrails slowly sliding down Vlad’s shoulder before landing on the ground with a disgustingly wet sound. Cujo barked happily and immediately dove for it. Danny decided to pick his battles and let him have it.

Jack groaned. “How can you be half—” he shook his head. “You know what? Don’t answer that. We should all sit down and eat. This is too much to take in on an empty stomach.”

Danny had to agree and they had managed to get a single—hopefully normal—fish before all this mess had started. Who was he kidding? This trip had been a mess from the very start. Danny stared out at the boat still bobbing in the middle of the lake, all alone. “Yeah, that might prove to be a bit of an issue.”

Jack followed his gaze and then sadly said, “…We still have some marshmallows?”

Danny couldn’t help the snort that escaped him at Jack’s forlorn expression. His dad could teach Cujo a thing or two about puppy eyes. Its effects were only slightly diminished by the fact that he was sopping wet. “I can’t believe you guys swam ashore!”

“Well, we couldn’t just let those pesky ghosts get you both!”

“So you dove in to save us?” Danny felt oddly touched.

“Of course! Now, you apparently didn’t really need saving, but still!”

Danny smiled. “Just wait a second; I’ll go get the boat.” He turned to give his dad a warning look. “Please don’t shoot me.”

And then he transformed into Phantom. He didn’t give his dad enough time to gather himself or to stop gaping in horror at him before taking off.

--

Later when they were sitting around a green fire, grilling fish and marshmallows, Jack very un-casually said, “Sooo, you’re both ghosts, huh?”

“Yep,” Danny said, popping the p.

Vlad leaned back against a log and said, “Yeah.”

Danny couldn’t help giving Vlad a glare for the relief he could hear in his voice.

Jack looked down at Cujo. “Like this little guy.”

“Yes…?” Danny didn’t know where Jack was going with this.

“So… does that mean that he’s your dog? Can we keep him?”

Danny looked at his dad sitting on a log with a sleeping Cujo in his lap. He hadn’t stopped petting him ever since they sat down and Danny had caught him sneaking pieces of both fish and marshmallow to the dog several times. Danny smiled. “Yes, dad, we can keep him. The problem is trying to get him to leave you alone.”

Jack beamed. “Sounds perfect!”

Vlad gave a short laugh. “Can you believe it? You’re getting willingly haunted by a dog.”

“And the two of you!” Jack added happily.

That startled a laugh out of both Vlad and Danny. Vlad reached for another marshmallow as he said, “That’s fair.”

Danny stuffed his face with his own burnt marshmallow and said, “Nothing like a fight for your lives to bring people together, huh?”

“Or, half lives in your case!” Jack added with a laugh.

“Dad, oh my god!” Danny groaned into his hands, hiding his smile.

Jack chuckled. “What? Too soon?”

Vlad shook his head with a smile. “Not soon enough.”

[arcanarix]

The Right Way - Fushiguro Toji X Reader

AO3

—

CHAPTER ONE.

Funny how one small action could change the entire trajectory of your life.

You didn’t think you were worthy of much. Especially not having some rugged, statuesque man with his signature wolfish grin practically wrapped around your finger, worshipping the ground you walk on and trailing you everywhere you went, refusing to let up or to back down.

While you would sooner leave a deep indent of your limited-edition Jimmy Choo heels square on his chiseled Adonis-like face than go on a date with him, he didn’t seem to mind the chase. In fact, it only seemed to make that dick of his harder.

All you did one evening was take an alternate route home. And look what that had cost you!

A part of you pondered why you were even complaining about this. You wanted a little excitement in your life, craved it like an addict craved their chosen substance, even, but this was not what you had in mind, and you were not the one for this man.

Especially since you knew he was far, far out of your league.

And you were not a stupid girl.

When you arrived at your apartment complex, you were stunned to find that same, persistent, damned annoying pest of a man perched on the railing of your floor, waiting for you.

“Is this any way to thank a guy for saving your life?” he called to you. “I didn’t get a name, but I found out where you live, which I suppose makes up for it.”

You were ready to fire a few insults at the guy, but you knew better. You had watched enough true crime. You did not want to be another case here.

“What do you want?”

“A name, gorgeous.”

Putting your ego aside, you told him your name. You didn’t miss how his face softened, and how your heart raced, and you wanted that to cease at that moment.

You knew nothing about this man—nothing at all!

“Now what’s yours?”

“Toji Fushiguro,” he grunted in response before landing on his feet before you.

Ugh… Show off!

Toji brushed through his jet black locks as he pondered the next steps, as if you wanted anything to do with him at all.

“Now with a proper introduction out of the way, why don’t I treat you to dinner? It took a minute to track you down after that day. A lot more effort than I expected, in fact…”

Your eyes flashed with irritation. He couldn’t be serious! First he stalked you and now he wanted to take you to fuckin’ dinner? What kind of drugs was this guy snortin’? “This how you charm all the women in your life because this isn’t working on me.”

His face appeared expressionless, devoid of caring, but he approached you, crouching to your level. The guy was so damn tall—and he was so jacked. A part of you kind of wanted to lick those muscles like he was a popsicle.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he began, tone laced in mockery. “Let me try again. I’m taking you to dinner. And then later, I’m giving you the fuck of your life. How’s that sound?”

“That sounds like a hard pass and an easy way to make any pussy shrivel up like a goddamn raisin.”

His eyes widen a bit, but he chuckled, and you were taken aback by the fact that he seemed amused by this, in some weird, twisted way.

“Been a while since I met someone with a backbone.”

“Then you must have dealt with quite a few weak fucks.”

He chuckled again.

“If only you knew who I was.”

He straightened his composure.

“If only I gave a damn about finding out,” you breathed, while enjoying the view, though you’d never let him have the satisfaction of finding out that you ever found him even remotely good-looking.

“I really hope you’re as full of bite as you are of bark, gorgeous. I have a reputation, you see.”

“Does that involve being bad at talking to women?”

His face turned bleak. “Not in the slightest. It’s completely removed from that. It had to do with those men who messed with you when you were walking home that day. Which you have yet to thank me for, might I add.”

You rolled your eyes. Oh how you hated being put on the spot like that.”

“I had it under control!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, biting back a groan. “Yes, you sure did when they all had you cornered in that deep dark alley.”

You tried to lower your defenses just a tad, but you were still irritated by this man. Just a little. You just didn’t like the situation very much, was all.

“Ugh. Fine. Thank you, O Great One. However shall I repay you?”

“Dinner. Just dinner. We can go slow.”

You perked an eyebrow. “Just moments ago, you were so certain you would swindle me into bed. Just seein’ me as another notch under your belt.”

“Or against the wall. Or in the shower,” he tacked on, punctuating each addition with emphasis.

“That’s not working,” you replied in a sing-sing voice. “I’m not that easy.”

“And I think I like that,” he winked, “Most women just fall all over me. Just at the drop of a hat. I don’t have to do anything. So this? This is a refreshing change of pace, actually.

“So… you’re commending me for having an ounce of self-respect? Now that’s just sad.”

“It is, a little bit. I have to agree. So, are you going to let me treat to dinner, or do I have to swallow my pride and get down on my knees?”

You folded your arms over your chest. “Honestly, I’m a little impressed that you are so keen on sweeping me off of my feet. Not often you find a real man like that. So… just for that, I guess I can humor you with dinner. But just dinner. The other stuff takes time, buckaroo.”

He extended his hand, smirking. “That works for me. Let’s do this the right way.”

[just-a-casual-newtasaur]

✧ Masterlist and Introduction ✧

✧Meet lil ol’ me

Ello, I’m a silly girl with a silly brain filled with Newtmas. My favourite colour is green and my favourite animal is a maned wolf or a Pine Marten. I love depressing myself with sad music and I’m always up for a chat. My name is Amy but you’re welcome to use any nicknames you make up.

JustACasualNewtasaur on ao3 🤗

✧Fanfics

(newt x reader)

* A cut for a kiss - Newt is constantly ‘hurting himself’ forcing him to go to the med jacks hut. but you soon learn he has motives other than to heal.

* A whisper of comfort - after being hurt in the maze, Newt is all too happy to look after you

* Daisy Chains - you and Newt find a private spot in the forest, though you soon realise it wasn’t as private as you thought.

* The shadow in your eyes - the flare is spreading through Newt quicker than you could ever have imagined, it won’t be long before the boy you loved is lost forever.

* Bloodstained knife - Screeches echo from down a street and you can only hope that you’re wrong about the source.

* Run - you enter the maze to find your friend but you went as alone as you first thought

* Flowers - when you follow Newt into the forest, you remember that you’re all just children in a sick trap.

* Chuck - a strange women shows up after Chuck’s death, do you follow her.

* Moonshine - when Newt catches up to you, you start to wonder how much he really had to drink.

* When will it be over - you arrive in Denver but things take a turn when you realise they only let in Immunes.

* Nothing - you find a perfect hiding place, with a great view of the vegetable patches, but maybe it wasn’t as good as it first seemed.

* I’m sorry - when you fly your way to Crank Palace you find Newt, less than happy to return with you.

* Runner - when you return from the maxe, Newt has to make sure you’re alright.

* Blond - the hit is lit, and you need to deliver a message, but voices come from inside, do you enter?

* Don’t want to lose you - After saving him from a Crank, Newt is angry, telling you, you could have died.

* Maze - the battle is over, but the casualties are not

* Forever - the cold wind gnaws at you and you can’t sleep but you soon find someone else is awake

* Jealous - After a game of spin the bottle, you are forced to kiss Thomas but when you break away, you notice someone is gone.

* Together - when you and Minho arn’t back before the doors start closing, Newt is getting worried.

* Uhm - You and Newt are trying to share a private moment but Minho has other plans

* The Glade - you arrive in the box, with no idea where or who you are

* I really like you - when you overhear a conversation with Thomas and Newt, you find out he feels the same way about you, as you do to him.

* I love you too - when you decide to become a runner, Newt is less than happy.

* It’s all my fault - when you break your ankle in the maze, you notice something in Newt’s eyes

* Bloody lip - when Gally find out you and Newt are dating you find him less than happy.

* Greenie - by the time Newt gets out of the Medjack’s hut, he finds there is a new greenie, you.

* Can’t sleep? - you struggle to fall asleep but you know just who to go to.

* Welcome to the scorch - getting through the scorch is less than easy and it leaves you questioning if the ‘safe haven’ is even real.

* Lucky - you feel resentment of Newt, thinking he was so lucky, but you had no idea how wrong you were.

* Homestead - when you have to sleep in the homestead to be safe from the grievers, you find yourself close to a particular blond boy

* Heights - you insist Newt see a view from a tree, little do you know he’s scared of heights.

* Deal - your worst, most terrifying memory

* Black Veins - you’ve been distancing yourself after finding out you’re not immune, but you’re less immune than you think.

* Paper Boats - you and Newt are sitting by the river when you are met by an unwelcome guest

* Banished - you are banished

*And then the world exploded (50 follower special) - Minho has been taken by WICKED and the gladers are trying to rescue him

(Newtmas)

*Crank - Since they’ve been at WICKED Thomas notices something off about his friend

*His Tommy - Newt’s flare is getting worse and even Thomas can’t help him now.

*I shuckin’ missed you - That scene where Thomas goes into the maze but from Newt’s perspective

(Thominho)

* Too Scared to Sleep - Since they reached the safe haven without Chuck, Teresa and Newt, Minho and Thomas haven’t been able to sleep.

(Minewt)

* Try - Minho is worried about Newt getting infected during their venture outside of WICKED.

(Thomally)

* Shut up - the gladers wonder why Gally suddenly cares about Thomas

✧Incorrect Quotes

* Incorrect quotes #1

*Incorrect quotes #2

*Incorrect quotes #3

✧Taglist

@figurantedefilme