#( good lord this was so difficult to put together for like no reason rip to the old asks )

[hisjerk]

@theesongbiird​ asked:  ‘ take my bed for tonight.’

                                                   love starters | always accepting ~

                   '  that  wouldn't  be  very  gentlemanly  of  me . '  it's  a  light-hearted  jest  .  '  i've  slept  on  a  floor  plenty  of  times  ,  i'll  be  fine .   i'd  much  rather  you  have  it  but  i  appreciate  the  offer . '  

[oopey-doopey]

In one of your previous ask, I believe there was a mention of how Ethan feels the mental and emotional toll that it takes on him while he's in the position as Father Fungus. How would the Lords (including Lady D's daughters) react when Ethan just snaps after the stress has accumulated to the point where it becomes unbearable and he reaches his breaking point?

I doubt Ethan would break down in front of them. It is bad for everyone if they tried to blame it on one thing or even each other and he'd be aware of that. Ethan would excuse himself and then go off to cool down. However, there still is the chance he'd get caught...

"Why'd you call us all here, Alcina?"

"Yeah, what's the deal bringing us back here, super-sized?" Karl pushed past Donna on his way into the church, barely missing hitting Moreau when he dropped rested his hammer on the ground. Alcina scowled at his careless display but could understand the hostility.

The church had been a place marked as Mother Miranda's. If you entered there you were giving yourself up to her as a child, as a follower, as a living being. None of them, to her knowledge, had entered since she had been vanquished and, to her knowledge, they certainly did not want to ever again. Too many lies had been told here to them, too many bad memories made... Yet, she had brought them back. Composing herself she flattened her dress as she stood from her old chair, clearing her throat.

"I called you here," She narrowed her eyes at Karl, " because some troubling information has been brought to my attention by my girls."

"Well? Spit it out tall ass." Karl, eager to leave, demanded she cut to the chase.

"Don't be mean, Heisenberg..."

"Can it freak."

"Silence!" Alcina spoke sharply, patience wearing thin as Karl extended all of their times in the church. "If you had let me finish, I was going to inform you all that..." She stopped for a moment, as if unsure what she had brought them all together for was even correct. "That... one of my girls found Father Winters weeping outside my abode." The other lords stood quietly unsure of how to react.

Father Winters was weeping? Why? What for? He had gotten his child back, they were all safe and relatively happy. What could possibly trigger an action such as woeful and intense as weeping to occur in their dearest Father?

"Who did it?" Karl's impatient attitude faded, a one of a calm fury taking place. He picked his hammer back up, holding it as if ready to swing. "Winters-"

"Father Winters." Moreau corrected, shrinking back when Karl gave him a quick annoyed look.

"Father Winters," He stressed the word, rolling his eyes at how it appeased Moreau. "Has been through hell and back without shedding a tear. Whoever caused this, isn't going to cause it ever again."

"Yeah! Let's tear them to shreds!" Angie toddled on the ground, giggling and acting out ripping motions as Donna tied to reel her in.

Alcina shook her head, the sudden liveliness not what she wanted from a meeting such as this. "It isn't that simple, Heisenberg." She let out a huff, wishing she had a cigarette with her. "Less you plan on killing all of us... and yourself." The last part was said pointedly, a hopeful pitch to it.

"We've upset Father Winters?" Moreau sounded devastated, shaking his head as if he could shake the sentence from his memory. "What have we done? What can we do?"

"This is a mistake." Donna sat down as is faint, Angie coming to her side to comfort her.

"Your girls got this wrong, tall-ass." He took a step towards Alcina with the hammer, threatening to a person not as equally capable. "We ain't do shit to him."

"We ask a lot of him, don't we?" Alcina put her hands on her hips, glowering down at Karl. "My girls said most of what he said was incoherent, the wind and the doors made it difficult to hear."

"That's helpful..." Angie spoke calmly and irritably, the rest of the room momentarily stunned at the unusual display.

"It isn't... but what they did hear is his doubts."

"About?" Moreau shuffled closer, both to hear and see Alcina's expressions better.

Her looked turned dejected, almost as if she was a child told they were a disappointment by parents, which is effectively how she took it. "Us. If we are truly progressing, if we are ever going to be free of the confines of this village..." She looked as if she was leaving something out, but that is all she was willing to speak of.

"So, you're saying he's worried he's failing us?" Karl rested his hammer again, leaning on it, relaxed, as if listening to a boring story, "Please, I know you whack jobs call him father and stuff, but we aren't his kids!" Karl sounded jovial as if the problem at hand was a punchline he just got. The rest of the group's faces stayed grim. "We're fine."

"Father doesn't know that." Moreau's voice sounded serious, stern, and for once threatening towards his fellow lord. Karl went to protest before the silent nod of Donna and the agreeing hum of Alcina quieted him. He was outnumbered

"Exactly the issue I wanted to discuss." The tallest lord sat back down, attempting to look regal despite the vague focus in her eyes. Karl took note but opted to stay quiet. "We ask too much of him, too often."

"Nuh-uh, Father Ethan offers to play with me and Donna!" Angie seemed indignant, her games were not a forced activity, they were fun.

"Or does he feel the need to?" Angie looked up at Donna, this had been the most she spoke in a while. Her words resonated with the rest of the lords.

Did Ethan offer his time, his patience, his kindness, out of the good of his heart or did they force him? They had never called him to their residences, it had always been a choice on his part. Yet, they rarely gave him a choice when they would show up to his unannounced. He was always willing to participate in an activity of their liking, but when had they done the same? They did not ask for much, no, they took too often. Did he, for whatever reason, feel he had to let them? The ideas swarmed in the lords' heads.

"What should we do then, Lady." Alcina did not know if she preferred the vulgarity of Karl over when he disrespected her title. She would need a drink after this.

"We are overbearing him correct?" Silent nods filled the room. "He cannot handle giving so much of himself to us without reaching points like this. So we take less."

"And by that you mean?"

"Let him know we are fine and capable without his supervision. Shoo him off if you have to, but let him know we are doing well." Alcina leaned back in her chair, looking to where Mother Miranda would have been standing in moments like this. "Give him a break."

"That is doable!" Angie bounced on Donna's lap as if the idea was a challenge issued to her. "We'll be the best at not needing to be checked on! Like, hide n seek but with responsibility!"

Moreau nodded eagerly, being alone a little more often was no issue to him, especially since he had just gotten a few more movies to occupy his time with. Karl kept his gaze on Alcina, the latter still trained on the spot Miranda would stand.

"That settles it." Alcina began fixing her dress again, a content look unfolding upon her features as did the rest of the lords.

They would make sure they were not a burden to their father anymore...

[a-funny-little-sunflower]

♡ Yandere Glorfindel Alphabet ♡

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Glorfindel is highly affectionate! He hasn’t had a chance to let his loving side out in centuries so when his beloved one finally comes along after years of him being alone, he’s gonna be touching them all the time; kisses, hugs, hand-holding, you name it.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Although Glorfindel is a diplomatic elf at most times, if his beloved one is threatened, you best believe all bets are off. You have to remember that this Elf not only fought a Balrog, but he also made the witch king himself flee in terror at the very sight of him, its safe to say, he’s intimating, and he’s not afraid to get his hands bloody for you.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Glorfindel adores you more than anything, he would give his Lordship, his wealth, his strength, even his golden locks for you, what in Iluvatar name makes you think that he would ever harm you? No, he treats you like the royalty you are and would never lay a finger on you.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Glorfindel is very understanding of how you must feel, especially when being kept against your will, so he doesn’t push you too much, and he would never force himself upon you, but he will try to persuade you into letting him brush your hair, or help you dress, he would definitely try to get you to trust him by doing personal domestic things like that together.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Glorfindel is constantly having to hold up a strong and powerful front for his subjects, so being able to shed the heavy burden of Lordship around his love, is definitely a big thing for him. When he comes home from a day filled with meetings and stress, he wants nothing more than to lay his head in your lap and let you run your fingers through his hair, he would defiantly cry if you offered without any hints from him.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Glorfindel would definitely feel hurt if you fought back, all he’s trying to do is protect from a horrid world, and he knows the terrible things it holds, he’s seen them first-hand after all, so when you fight with him about it, it makes his heart hurt. He just wants to protect you, so why won’t you let him?

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

In Glorfindel’s eyes, his beloved’s safety is no laughing matter, so when he sees you trying to escape, it frightens him to the very centre of his being, after all, anything could happen, and you just so fragile, you could be so easily hurt!

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Glorfindel is thousands of years old, so he has had plenty of time to learn how to control his temper, so there are very few things that would make him angry, however, there are times where he knows that he must punish you for misbehaviour. During these times, he will pick you up bridal style and lock you in a room for a few hours, he hates doing it, and he feels as though someone has ripped his heart out if he hears you start crying.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

All of Glorfindel’s life, he has always had to carry the burden of responsibility for his people, and though he cares for them, a part of him longs for simplicity. So, if you enjoy homebuilding and domestic things, it would be an ideal outlet for those feelings, not to mention that it would make his heart melt.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Glorfindel is thousands of years old so he’s had plenty of time to learn how to control his temper, so it is quite difficult for him to get incredibly angry. However, that’s not to say that he doesn’t get jealous when you spend more time with other people than him, but he just does a better job at hiding it.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Glorfindel is at his happiest when he is with his beloved. He always has an adoring look in his eyes and a soft smile on his face when he’s talking with them, and he’s constantly trying to interact with them when he can.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Glorfindel, like many great elves, is adept at weaving beautiful words to enchant you, and he has great wealth to back up his affections, after all, if he can spoil you, he gonna. Flowers, baked goods, clothes, jewellery, and if you ask him for a crown, he’ll buy you a crown. Nothing is too high a price for his beloved.

Mask: Are their true colours drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Glorfindel is a well-mannered and diplomatic elf in public, and always holds a regal aura around his subjects but as soon as he’s alone with you, his Lord like behaviour drops and he becomes loving and attentive, and very giggly. He’s smitten with you after all, and he has no reason to hide when he’s alone with you.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He would never lay his hands on his beloved, but if you just kept misbehaving, he would put you in a room your own until he learned your lesson. The room is always full functional with an en suite, and he brings you food, but he won’t interact with you when he does, even though he wants nothing more than to gather you up in his arms.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

He will probably take away your right to go out on your own. He might be lenient if you promise to allow 2 guards to accompany you, but if you fall pregnant, you're forbidden to leave your shared chambers, not even if you offer to allow guards to come with you.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Glorfindel is centuries old, so he’s had plenty of time to perfect his patience. He’s also incredibly understanding, despite his yandere nature, so he’s incredibly patient with his darling.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Glorfindel has never had someone that he loves as much as he loved you. Ecthelion was his best friend and he lost him centuries ago, and although he made new companions, he would never be able to move on if you died or escaped.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No matter how understanding he is, he won’t let his darling go. He sees taking you and keeping you secluded as a necessary precaution, so he won’t regret it.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

This side of him comes from constantly losing his loved ones. His friends, family and loved ones were all taken from him, and he refuses to let it happen again.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

It would break his heart. He wants you to understand that he is keeping you locked away for your own safety, he knows the dangers of the world and wants to protect you from them. But he is highly tuned to your emotions, so if you start sobbing, he can practically feel it in his soul.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He’s very diplomatic and understanding, so he may be up to giving you more freedom if you show that you can be trusted.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

If you have the ability to control your crying, you can use that to your advantage. He will do anything to stop you from crying, and he may be so caught up in the moment, that his common sense may leave him, and he will be left unguarded.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Never, he loves you.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He worships you as if you were the very being who hung the stars in the sky, and his desperation to get you to love him back knows no bounds. He has influence, wealth, and physical strength on his side, so he has an advantage over others.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

It depends, although Glorfindel is patient, he’s also aware that mortal lives are far shorter than elves, so if his beloved is mortal, it would encourage him to move quickly.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

He might do it by mistake. Perhaps due to an outburst or severe misbehaviour, he would lock you in the spare room specifically used for keeping you during punishments. And maybe, just maybe, he keeps you in there for a bit too long. Longer than he had before, and maybe this time, he doesn’t bring you food, and all of that just sends you over the edge.

He comes into the room expecting you to be asleep, because you were so quiet but instead, he finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the opposite wall, with a dead eye, unmoving. He gently touches you, but you take no heed of you, so he shakes you gently again, and again, and again.

Then it clicks. He broke you. And he’s sure that he feels something in him break too.

[lupically]

#F7B55E | CHILDE.

genre | fluff, friendship with low romance undertone

word count | 1438

warning | none​

note | i just finished childe’s story quest and maybe he is quite the boy, after all.

childe has not stopped thinking about you. or, specifically, he has not stopped thinking about the moment you thanked him for being the brother you never had.

he was confused at first. sitting slacked against the wall, hiding away from his darling little brother teucer after destroying multiple ruin guards at once, thus causing a commotion through his weak body, childe watched your unpredictable expression with confusion he has never mustered before anyone else.

he wondered for the reason behind that expression on your face. the bitterly softened eyes, the upsettingly smiling lips; there was a difficult longing in your eyes, for someone he reckoned, and a remorseful nostalgia he couldn't read through yet was desperately curious about. you looked at him, you laughed, hoarsely as if you could no longer speak without a whisper, and you thanked him for being the brother you never had.

all because he was protecting teucer. albeit, he did it through such spoiling means that it has turned the little boy stubborn and somewhat obnoxious, childe was still protecting his brother nonetheless, in a way nobody ever tried to shield you.

but childe didn't know that then. he just wondered why—what was the thanks for? he certainly has never acted brotherly toward you, so why the sudden surge of painful gratitude?

there was a story behind it that he didn't know about, and truth be told, he was going all fussy about wanting to hear more of it. the expression you held, he has been thinking about it so much he could no longer forget it, even though it was so upsetting to think about your disappointment and loneliness.

you two were not best friends. he barely knew you, and you him, but he wanted to change that. if it was his choice to make, he would rather see you smile all the time. it was something—a sudden affection, but not love—that came over him, he was unsure of it.

"hey, little one!"

you turned away from the ocean and immediately frowned when you saw childe leisurely walking toward you. ignoring your unhidden dismay, he approaches you with a smile and stopped to stand beside you, silently thinking about how to approach the topic with you.

"i'm not little," you mumbled to yourself, but still your voice was loud enough for him to hear.

"huh? what did you say? i'm sorry but i am having trouble hearing you from all the way up here–" he looked around the place before finally, he tilted his head down to find your head arched up to glare at him. he smiled mischievously, bringing his hand up to ruffle your hair. "oh, didn't catch you there, sorry about that."

you swatted his hand away with a grumble of disbelief. curse his height! you weren't so short yourself, but childe was, unfortunately, taller than your average boy. even then, though, he did not have to play the tall card to this extend! ruffling your hair like a child and all!

"we are the same age, childe!" you scoffed as you turned away. "if anybody is a little one, it's teucer, alright?"

childe laughed obnoxiously as he always does, which only made you frown more.

it wasn't so much the condescendingly unreliable tone in his laugh that left you in such angry bafflement all the time, but how you have come to learn that his laughter was always fake, which, to sum it up easy, childe lies.

that should not be a surprise at this point, especially after teucer's last visit and your discovery of childe's toy selling facade. but, still, the fact that he was such a casual liar stirred up dismay within you.

even though, curse the lord, sometimes he only lies to protect his beloved, to shield the innocence that does not deserve to be ripped apart, and to defend dreams that break all too easily.

(you supposed, though, that the only reason why you hated his lies so much was because you couldn't read through him that way. you could not imagine the burdens and pain he keeps all to himself by putting a smile on his face all the time.)

(in other words, you care about childe, in ways he would not know about.)

"bringing my brother into this, that is quite low of you, [name]," childe said happily as he leaned his arm on your head. before you could move away, he added pressure to you with his body weight, and he leaned his face down to yours with a calculative glint in his eyes. "talking about brothers, right. what is it that you said the other day?"

you tried to move away from the proximity, but he has got you in a deadlock until you answer, so you shrugged with a face flushed with shyness. "what did i say?"

"about me being the brother you never had," he replied quickly, moving even closer to you with a suspicious gaze.

you sucked in a breath.

oh. that.

"it was nothing special," you whispered, your eyes rolling away to focus on anything else but his face.

"hmm? i don't believe you."

you pursed your lips. of course he could see through you. 

liars see liars; you see him, and he sees you as well.

"well, even if it is something," you huffed as you reached your hand up and brought his arm away from your head after a bit of struggle, "i am not going to tell you. it's personal."

it would be awkward. how could you begin to explain your less-than-ideal family history to him, someone who loved his family to such an insane degree? he would never understand; he would never understand how some brothers are just not suited to be brothers, and some parents are just not built to be parents.

how do you tell childe that, unlike him, some family lies for greed and neglect for freedom? and somehow, despite being brought up to learn loneliness, the yearning core in your chest jumped when you saw his unconditional love, the unwarmed heart within you reached its hand out for him in hopes to get affection—a good hug, a new toy, a kind 'my darling little one,' or a brotherly head ruffle.

you could see your young, broken dreams in childe, sealing themselves back together, because he was a living hope that good brothers exist out there, that there are families out there you can count on, that there are people out there with undoubtable endearment. 

you could not tell him.

childe was looking down at you with a blank, almost bored, expression. you could only stare up at him, with such unknowingly pleading eyes that childe has to force himself to not pry into the matter more despite going berserk with curiosity.

it must have been something bad if the sheer matter could bring such despair in your eyes. he wanted to know, oh, he wanted to know! because he wanted to stop it! he wanted to see you smile, he wanted to hear you bicker with him, he wanted you angry and hyper instead of sad and disappointed!

"well, i won't be able to pry it out of you if you don't want to tell me," he sighed dramatically with a shake of his head. "but don't look at me like that, my darling little one. it makes me quite upset."

you curled your hands into fists in surprise.

damn this man. sometimes you wonder if he can read minds.

"i said," you emphasized with gritted teeth, and childe's mildly frightened face made you feel great, "stop calling me little one!"

there it was—a wave of brilliant anger took over you, such brightness engulfed your strong body and soul as you threw his shoulders frustrated punches. childe could only laugh at your attempt to bruise him, not attempting to stop you and only trying to mess up your hair in the process to mess with you more.

when he sees you all worked up over his friendly teases, a rush of endearment filters through him like a sheet of colored paper, covering his nerves and his body, in a way that made him want to stay with you. this was the you he liked to see. 

with him and not alone, without burdens and worries, smiling and getting annoyed.

such powerful emotions for you to feel, and such an unwise affection for him to muster.

childe smiled to himself.

unwise, but it should be fine. unwise affection is only affection, and affection is not love.

something told him he could love you, though.

[acapelladitty]

Heisenberg fic: Shame

He had been foolish.

Slamming down the bottle of whisky he had procured from the drawer below his workbench; the force was enough to send several small bolts scattering from the wooden bench and bouncing along the floor as he ripped the lid off and brought the bottle to his lips.

The familiar taste of the alcohol was welcomed as it burned a path past his tongue and down his throat, the warmth helping to calm his senses and give him something to focus on which wasn’t his own damn stupidity.

That bitch Miranda.

It was her idea to have a meeting and- like a good son- he had attended when called but her only intent seemed to be to give him information which was designed to piss him off and test his already-thin patience.

His own experiments had been a disaster this week and he could have done without the extra shit piled on top but she had pushed and he had reacted without thought.

Unable to get a quick enough hold of his temper, he had been slow to prevent the hunk of sheet metal from lifting from the floor and careening towards her. He knew it was a mistake but the red mist that settled before his eyes made reason a much less attractive option than rage.

What happened next was unknown to him as a darkness had fallen over his consciousness, but he knew it had something to do with that bitch and her powers. It had been foolish to attack her in her own domain, where her power was at its peak and the megamycete would protect her.

Regardless, he had awoken in an old friend, one he had not had the pleasure of visiting since his adolescence and with it came a lot of old memories he would have rather left unchecked.

The faraday cage was of Miranda’s own design; an emergency restraint constructed after his bonding with the cadou manifested his growing influence over magnetism. As a child, it was almost impossible to control without supervision and experimentation but in those moments where neither was found to be necessary he would find himself locked in the cage, cut off from his newest sense until it proved of interest again.

He remembered little of those early days aside from the pain and the false promises of a growing family. He remembered Miranda, her cold touch and even colder gaze, as she spoke about his brilliance and his potential.

All lies.

He also remembered Alcina.

She had visited him once with Miranda and he could recall his open surprise at just how tall she was. He had heard Miranda speak of her other children, of how he would take his rightful birthplace as Lord and join them as a family, but he had never imagined that one of her children would be so big.

His fascination died when her eyes met his, her gaze even colder than Mirandas, and she laughed, commenting on his small frame and asking Miranda if she was joking about his strength.

He never forgot that laugh.

It was his first taste of the humiliation to come.

However, that was then and this was now and he had long since grown out of caring about the opinions of others.

That said, he had forgotten the distress of the cage.

His powers came second nature to him and he barely had to think of an action before his abilities would fulfil it for him. Manifesting steps from loose scrap, bending metal into impossible shapes, encasing flesh in machinery with enough delicacy to fuse it to the complicated systems. All came to him as simple as a thought and nothing more.

All stripped away.

It was not pain in the traditional sense as he was under no physical torment as he paced the cage but the disconnect from his powers ached at him like a phantom limb; a discomfort which had no salve. It stung at his senses, making his skin tingle with an irritation that would not cease. It was the pain of having a part of you, of your core, cut out and dangled before you as your captor told you it was for the best.

Invasive surgery, performed on a conscious host.

The physical disconnect had been difficult, but the true punishment, the punishment which pierced him even more deeply was far more emotional.

The humiliation of being locked away like a disobedient child had burned at him, strong enough to make his chest grow tight as furious tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. The shame of not having the strength to defend himself from his object of hate.

She had released him, of course, the following day with little more than a dispassionate chastising; a reminder about learning to control his power to prevent any foolish mistakes from occurring.

A child, scolded by its mother for throwing a tantrum.

A false son, put to bed to think about his actions.

He was a Lord; he held dominion over his land while possessing power that would make him a force to be reckoned with in such a technical age. If he desired, he could rip the modern world to shreds without breaking a sweat, but that world was locked away from him. Hidden behind the wall of Miranda’s control, she would never allow for outside interference in her plans and his power remained tethered by her narrow-mindedness.

He had no doubt that she knew of his hate.

She was no fool, which could only lead him to believe that her disinterest in his rage stemmed from a confidence that she could control him should he move against her and an acknowledgement that he was no true son of hers; he was little more than an interesting experiment that could be destroyed and replaced with little consideration.

That confidence would be her downfall and his metal army would carve a bloody path through her lycans as they fought to secure his freedom. He was their god as she was theirs and he would kill them all.

Her lycans.

Moreau.

Beneviento.

Dimitrescu and her three little bitches.

And, finally, with her defenders dead, he would rip Miranda’s heart from her chest and show it to her. He would show her the true heart of the family she had stitched together to replace something that was pointless. 

Hell, if he had time, he would tell her, in great detail, how he would use his connection with the megamycete to wipe her daughters data from the mold.

In her final moments, he wanted her to know she failed and that from the ashes of her power, her true successor would be the false child she disregarded as a failed experiment.

Taking another swig of his whisky, he dropped into his work chair with a heavy sigh, the soft thrum of the magnetism in the air around him a welcome friend as he focused his thoughts, channelling his shame into something productive.

Then, and only then, would he be free.

Also uploaded on AO3

[thefirstknife]

Sorry for the long ask, but as somebody who's recently been enjoying the tries revamp and the accessibility it gives to middling pvp players, I've been getting into the lore on the trials gear, and there's a lot of entries so I'm having trouble keeping track. I've mostly been interested in Sola, who only seems to come up a few times? She ends up torturing a guardian in the trials, looking for 'something inside them like in her.' It's interesting though, because the power she wields, (and seemingly seeks when Aunor catches her tracking an anomaly in arrivals) isn't described as darkness or stasis, but some kind of corrupted void light? I can't find mention of anything else like this, and I feel like there's lore entries I'm missing?

Anyways, Trestin, another trials guardian, gets killed unnecessarily viciously by Sola (I think, that lore entry mentions they're competing against Crimiq-5, who is on Sola's fire time, so this seems right) and later goes on to become obsessed with stasis, torture house salvation refugees as well as her own fireteam, and gets put down by Aunor as well. Is this a coincidence? Does Sola do what she does to Trestin because she sees the same temptation towards corruption? Or is it more direct? It almost seems like she passes it on, virulently, and I'm mainly wondering if that's something that has any other evidence when it comes to corrupted guardians. I figure you might know, I'm having trouble searching since some of it is trials gear, some isn't, and they don't all mention everyone's name

Took me a while to get the full info on this because I wanted to put all of the lore entries in order and they're kinda scattered around!

Okay, so, this story is told on Trials weapons lore. First batch was released in Season of the Worthy and then the sort of conclusion in Season of the Chosen. There's a minor update in Season of Arrivals on non-Trials gear (Temptation's Hook). The first batch of lore details a single Trials match between two fireteams.

One fireteam consists of Trestin, Yara and Sadhij. The other fireteam is Sola, Crimiq-5 and Katake. Roughly in some semblance of order, the lore on items is as follows:

The Summoner - This seems to be the start as it shows Trestin meeting up with her fireteam and going into the match. The one important thing to note here is that Trestin was apparently deeply affected by what happened on the Moon (during Shadowkeep and the discovery of the Pyramid) and seems to be resigned that the end is coming and that there's nothing anyone can do about it. It appears she was somewhat influenced by the Pyramid into despair and losing hope.

Astral Horizon - This is somewhere at the start of the match. Sadhij tells his teammates Trestin and Yara that he's going for one of the enemies (Katake). He charges with a shotgun and uses Thundercrash which completely obliterates Katake. No surprise there. However, at the end, there is a rifle shot and then silence.

Exile's Curse - This details the start of the match from the other team's perspective. We see the same event of Katake being Thundercrashed by Sadhij from the eyes of his teammate Crimiq-5 who warns Katake about being out of line of sight. Crimiq-5 witnesses Katake being obliterated.

Eye of Sol - Again from Crimiq's POV, he is standing in the back with a sniper rifle and he watches Sola attacking Trestin. He seems to be very distraught about this:

Sola had ripped through their previous opponents with off-putting ferocity, and Crimiq was ready for this to be their last match of the day. He looked over her through his scope. Sola's silhouette marinated in an eerie shimmer that distorted the air as she moved.

He shoots a warning shot at her position to keep the third opponent (Yara) in cover. Then he hears Katake's cry for help against the Thundercrash and aims there, killing Sadhij. That's the rifle shot at the end of Astral Horizon lore.

The Scholar - This moves us to Sola's POV, where it's described that she's torturing Trestin and telling her that she can feel "it" in her too. I assume that both Sola and Trestin were deeply affected by the Lunar Pyramid and were both in the early stages of corruption by it. Sola felt it in Trestin.

"So…" Sola's intent bit deeper, malleable claws that flexed against her prey's Light. They probed through blood and muscle to an umbral center. "…it's within you too."

After the torture incident, Saint steps in to end the match and reprimand Sola. He also reprimands Crimiq, but Crimiq says he doesn't want anything to do with Sola. This further angers Sola and she leaves, telling everyone they're "as good as dead anyway." Note the same kind of despair and loss of hope that Trestin exhibited even before she was attacked by Sola.

Tomorrow's Answer - This brings us a bit back to the final person who has a POV which is Yara who witnesses what Sola did to Trestin:

A violet shockwave pushed away the dust. Trestin knelt a few paces away, beaten. The Warlock bent her glowing hand into Trestin's chest plate, lodging a vortex grenade into her armor. Yara met her eyes and saw the Void overtake her. She did not hear the scream, or the splitting armor. She only saw flickers of Trestin break apart and scatter as the vortex ate away at her.

Sola lodged an entire vortex grenade into Trestin. Horrible way to die. Yara yells at Sola about Trestin not deserving that and Sola snaps back:

"None of us 'deserve.' It's about what you can get." The Warlock smiled and raised a hand of gnarled Void. "Brace yourself."

This shows how far gone Sola was. Definitely far more corrupted than Trestin. Presumably, Sola also finished off Yara in the match before it ended.

In Season of Arrivals, there's an update about this on Temptation's Hook. It's shown that Sola has been captured by the Praxic Order. The Praxics lead by Aunor know that Sola took another Guardian "to the outer system" and that they did not return with Sola.

I assume "the outer system" means Europa, but that's only because now we have additional information from Season of the Chosen. Since this is from Season of the Worthy, it could also mean that Sola and Trestin went out further into the outer system and met with the Black Fleet (the Black Fleet lurking at the edges of the system is mentioned in this lore). Sola also says some strange things:

"I learned the secret. The one your hounds have hidden away in that quaint little vault." Sola smiles red through split lips. "You're on the losing side."

"Do you think you have nothing to lose, or that I wouldn't take it from you? You're sorely, and soon to be regretfully, mistaken."

Sola spits in Aunor's face. "You have limits. You have masters." A twisted Light shimmers in Sola's hand as she moves to attack. "Enjoy hanging to death in your strings!"

This is probably referring to the presence of Darkness on Europa to which Sola and Trestin were either directly exposed OR they may have been told about it during their visit to the Black Fleet (depending on where they went exactly). It appears her Ghost was also exposed. Both Sola and her Ghost are contained by the Praxic Order: Sola killed and her Ghost disabled from resurrecting her.

The next, roughly chronologically would be The Messenger. Some time has passed. Aunor meets with Ikora about the problem of another corrupted Guardian who tortured Eliksni civilians, asking them about Eramis and how she accessed Darkness, as well as torturing her own teammates. It's revealed that the Guardian in question is still located on Europa and trying to access Darkness as well as that the Guardian's name is Trestin.

That leaves us with the final entry which is Sola's Scar. In it, we follow Trestin on Europa as she's nearing the Darkness obelisk, eager to get its power. She details how she betrayed her fireteam and what was driving her:

Over the radio, Lord Saladin's voice grew staticky: "Cabal incursion… Vex… up ahead." Without a word, Trestin's Ghost switched it off. There were others nearby to carry out the Iron Lord's orders. He wouldn't miss them.

She doubted anyone would—her ex-teammates least of all. She had betrayed them, or so Sadhij had screamed: "We're supposed to be the thin line drawn before the Darkness, you traitor!"

|| Thin indeed. So why not step over it? ||

Because they didn't have it in them. She checked. Cracked them both open and dug deep, just to be extra sure. But it wasn't there. That hunger, immense and buried, like the ocean under Europa's glacial crust. A riptide, undetectable from the surface, yet unrelenting in its pull. She never meant to betray anyone. She just wanted release.

|| Soon, you will have it. Soon, you will be freed. ||

She has brief memories of her fireteam, namely one of Yara's jokes. Darkness makes sure to tell her that such attachment is weakness. Just before Trestin reaches the obelisk, Aunor catches up to her and asks her to come quietly. Trestin disobeys and Aunor strikes her down with a sword.

I assume the name of the weapon where this lore is written, Sola's Scar, refers to the "scar" that Sola left in Trestin when she tortured her during the Trials match. Both Sola and Trestin seem to have been deeply affected by the Lunar Pyramid and it drove them to extremes which eventually led to both of them becoming corrupted and betraying the Light. It's interesting that in Sola's case, there's no Stasis involved: her Light was corrupted. Specifically her Void.

Not sure about Trestin and if she ever got Stasis and which other power and/or knowledge she was seeking from the Darkness, but either way the corruption of both of these Guardians came from the same source, entwined them together and eventually led to both of them being taken down by Aunor.

It's a really tragic story and the reason why I really like this type of lore about just some other Guardians and how they're experiencing the events we go through with in the game. Especially how it highlights just how much of an outlier the Young Wolf is and how things we do are really difficult or downright impossible for other Guardians to deal with. Both Sola and Trestin were victims of powers they could not handle.

[memory-mortis]

Little Kitten (Dio x Reader)

Why hello there! First of all, I have no clue what this is. It’s not smut. It’s not fluff either. It’s just... huh. A random idea I had like 2 days ago. Secondly, to all of you who sent me a request months ago, I am really sorry. Don’t worry! I am still working on them! But it’s taking really long because I just went through a small writing block and I was feeling a little depressed. I will finish them one day, it just might take a while. Anyway, without further ado, let’s get this bread

WC: 1.8k TW: blood, the usual Dio stuff

So this was supposed to be a self-insert, which means the reader was originally meant to be female, but now that I think about it, it could be perceived as gender neutral too. The reader wears dresses, but fuck it, boys and nonbinary folk can wear dresses too, fuck gender stereotypes amirite?

This one contains NSFW themes. 18+ only.

“My, my… what do we have here? A soaked little kitten.”

Those were the first words he ever spoke to you. They came within a fever dream, his voice coated in honey and silk, reaching for the deepest desires hidden within your soul. He clenched your heart in his fists, dug his sharp nails into its tender meat. Figuratively speaking, of course.

Lord Dio had found you on the side of the road, soaked from the rain, beaten and bruised. You were trembling, barely conscious, and the memory of him walking towards you, his steps reminiscent of those of a proud lion, was hazy and blurry. It is safe to say that you were very close to death, and you would’ve had perished had it not been for him. You couldn’t tell to this day why he chose you out of all the poor women lying on the street, but he took a liking to you and while many men and women came to his mansion only to never return home alive, he kept you by his side and even fed you. In return… he made you his little play toy. You didn’t mind. You had nowhere else to go, and no one had treated you as respectfully as Lord Dio. He knew your boundaries, and whenever you asked him to stop, he stopped, and that is exactly why you chose to accompany him to Egypt.

The full moon hung low over the streets of Cairo littered with dots of light created by street lamps. A cool breeze of fresh air poured in through the open window which you stood by, your eyes pinned to the view of the city that opened in front of you. You did not feel cold thanks to the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Lord Dio would freak out if you didn’t take care of yourself and that was the last thing you wanted. A sigh escaped your lips in the form of a cloud of mist. While the air in Egypt was hot and dry in the day, once the sun set, the temperatures dropped close to the freezing point. You admired your master for being able to sleep in the scorching heat. You had tried to adjust your own sleep schedule to match his but it was always just too hot to sleep and so you had to settle for seeing him late at night and early in the morning, despite how lonely that sometimes made you feel.

You started reminiscing of your first days spent with Lord Dio. The very first night he took you home you were sick and tired, so you didn’t protest when he cleaned you up and helped you get dressed into warm new clothes. Besides, from the aura he gave off, you knew you couldn’t escape even if you tried to.

“My poor little kitten, malnourished, your cheeks are so thin and your eyes so sunken,” he purred into your ear as he washed your hair. You were so exhausted you leaned back into his touch and didn’t move when he ran his hand over your throat. Dio was pleasantly surprised by your reaction, you could practically feel the smirk growing on his face as he leaned over to smell your neck. “So compliant, so submissive,” he whispered as he stroked your cheek. “I think I’ll keep you around.”

You were not a fool. You knew that Dio wasn’t human from first laying your eyes on him. Everything about him was so surreal, so ethereal, he was inhumanly gorgeous and radiated the glow of a supernatural being. You knew he was a vampire. It wasn’t your first time spotting one. But you didn’t mind. You didn’t care if you were just another meal for him. You fell prey not only to his predatory instincts and tendencies, but also to his otherworldly beauty. You craved every single look of those sharp, golden eyes, you needed his cold touch. His attention was a drug that kept you up at night.

To your surprise, it took weeks for him to show any interest in drinking your blood. In fact, he hadn’t shown himself to you at all in the first few days. Each morning, you would wake up to eggs, bread and tea on your nightstand, and every evening you would find dinner on the floor in front of your door. Lord Dio was elusive, nowhere to be found no matter how hard you tried. Sometimes you would run to the door upon hearing footsteps, only to find a completely empty hallway, and for a moment you thought that you were crazy or living in a haunted mansion.

But then… you found him. He was sitting in an armchair in the library, an open book in his lap. Despite having his back to you, he registered your presence.

“Hello there, kitten,” he greeted you without even looking at you. You shuddered at the sound of his voice, just as soft and alluring as you had remembered. Finally, he closed the book in his lap and set it aside, stood up and looked at you. The view was breathtaking. He gazed down at you hungrily, a couple of golden locks falling into his face. He had no shirt on and his broad chest and toned abs were clearly visible to you. You noticed the scar all around his neck and you would’ve questioned him about it had it not been for sudden anxiety rising within you. Before you could notice, he was behind you, brushing your hair aside to take a good look at your shoulder. “Hmm, you’ve put on some weight. Good, good… now you don’t look like a walking skeleton anymore. Tell me, kitten, what’s your name?” he asked, his voice low and somewhat comforting. You immediately felt at ease, as if intoxicated by his presence alone. “Y/n,” you answered obediently. “Y/n…” he rolled your name over his tongue as if savoring it, engraving it into his memory. “What a pretty name for a pretty little creature. Say, y/n,” he spoke in a low voice, his lips close to your ear. You couldn’t help but lean your head towards him in a trance, drunk from the vibes he radiated. You couldn’t explain it if you tried, but something about him made everything feel right. “What do you say about becoming my personal plaything? I’ll treat you well. I’ll take you everywhere I go.” You nodded all too furiously, which made him let out a chuckle that took your breath away. “Good, good,” he growled excitedly and in a matter of seconds he was gone and back in his armchair. “Go prepare yourself. There are some dresses in your closet. We’re dining together tonight.” You didn’t waste any more time.

Lord Dio didn’t need to eat. He mostly just watched you while drinking his wine. Or blood. Who knew what he held in that wine glass. At first you felt really awkward. The food was really good, but you didn’t like people watching you gobbling down on it. Eventually, however, you got used to it. Every now and then you would look up and see him either reading or smirking to himself. Sometimes, his eyes would linger on the lower parts of your body. The dresses he would bring you every now and then were very pretty, you almost felt like a doll in them. You rather didn’t ask where he got them. But what was even more exciting was him getting you out of them.

The first time, he was surprisingly gentle. You could tell that he wanted to ravish you right then and there, but he held back, just for you. You were his little kitten. He couldn’t let himself break you, at least not so soon. It was a difficult task, but he did his best to make it a pleasurable experience. Still, to this day, your favourite nights were those where he let himself slip. The ones where he would rip your dress to shreds, push your face deep into the sheets of his huge bed and tear your body apart. Every thrust of his hips felt like the first beat of your heart, every “little kitten” whispered in your ear brought you alive, the real you that was not afraid to scream. You didn’t care if Vanilla Ice, or anyone else for that matter, heard you. It was hard to do so with Dio’s cock stretching your insides, the spell he cast upon you made it hard to form a coherent thought during those times.

He loved to hear your moans, he loved the way you called out his name. It gave him an incredible power trip, and his satisfaction brought even more pleasure to you. He never even tried to tone you down. He liked it loud.

You ran your fingers over the laced choker around your neck. It was one of his many gifts, and by far your favourite. Because it was his favourite too. It quickly became a necessity to wear these. After all, you didn’t want to walk around with the bite marks on your throat exposed. He didn’t drink too much. Every now and then he would get excited during sex and drink more than usual, which caused you to be dizzy, but you didn’t mind this either. In fact, it became something of a pleasant ritual. Your brain connected the dots between drinking blood and breeding and after a while you were conditioned so well your core would throb if he so much as licked the wound.

You’d seen the corpses of all the women and men he would drain of all blood. Something about you was special, your blood was different. He said it was like a juicy cherry on top of a cake. That’s one of the reasons why he kept you around. That, and the fact that you didn’t really question his decisions.

“You’re up late,” lord Dio’s voice echoed from behind you and you didn’t even flinch when he put his hands on your shoulders. “Can’t sleep,” you mumbled. “Oh? What’s keeping you up? Need to burn some energy?” He stroked your cheek with his knuckles and you shuddered at his touch. He froze when he saw the tears welling up in your eyes, turned you around and lifted your chin up to take a proper look at your face. “What’s wrong, kitten? What’s making you shed those tears? Did someone try to hurt you?” You shook your head in response. “They’re getting close, aren’t they?” Though it was a question, your tone made it sound more like a statement. Dio went silent for a moment. “Are you worried about me, Dio?” he said with a growing smirk. “I am the greatest being alive. They can try to get as close as they want, there is no way they could ever lay a hand on me.”

You sniffled and did your best to stop your quivering lip. Dio looked at you like you were a fragile little flower, wiped the tear on your cheek away with his thumb and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Come, let’s go to the bedroom, little kitten. It seems that you need to be reminded of how powerful I am.”

[fiction-in-my-blood]

Obey Me! Characters x Horny GN!MC HC (NFSW)

This includes all brothers and undateables (Diavolo, Barbatos, Soloman, and Simeon) I think I got a little carried away with Barbatos’ but, hey, its still a good read haha

Warnings: Just straight up Not Safe For Work, a lot of mentions of rough sex, edging in Barbatos’ HC, references to open relationships in Asmo’s and Diavolo’s, Lucifer’s is a lil angsty.

~~~~~~

Lucifer:

More than happy to accomodate you at any time of the day, but you’ll have to hold off when he’s particularly busy at the end of the month when the bills need to be sorted.

(Maybe encourage Mammon to hold off a bit on the big spending so he isn’t too stressed)

And, if he does get overrun with work pushed on him by the student council or Diavolo, tease him but accidentally letting it slip you’ll just have to go to Mamo or Asmo to complain, seeing as he can’t pleasure you right now. 

He’ll definitely be invigorated to recover the pride he drastically lost even by the insinuation you’d go off spouting nonsense like that.

“I promise I’ve been good ~.”

“Their names wouldn’t even be on you mind if you were.”

You’ll be satisfied especially when he’s stressed, pounding all his frustrations into you, his demon strength pushing your head further and further into his pillows. That is if you make it to the bed. 

When he does have the time, however, and you’re particularly needy, he’ll tease you to no end, not touching you until he can’t hold himself back anymore. 

And, being overly sexual doesn’t mean rough all the live long day. 

He likes to take it slow most of the time, not just teasing you, but engraining your body into his mind. 

Because somewhere, deep in the self-sabatarging part of his brain, he remembers you’re mortal and he isn’t. 

He’s going to live longer than you are, he could already be your eldest ancestor, so that thought it always in the back of his head as his face is burrowed in you neck, taking you in every sense of the word. By smell, touch, taste, hearing your moans of his name, watching your face screw up in pleasure and resting next to him after a specifically sensual love making session.

Mammon:

Won’t notice that its sex that you want at first, taking you to shop with him countless time when you’ve said your bored and wanted to have a lil fun~.

When he does realise, however, good god how can you have some much blood at two end of your body? Rock hard and a blushing mess at you on your knees in your room, just home from RAD, pushing him on the bed and almost swallowing him whole right there. 

His face is bright red listening to Satan and Asmo tease him- you had ranted to them countless times that Mamo was completely oblivious and you were worried to spell it out for him. 

But now, he’s just as needy as you, if not more. He is the Avatar of Greed, after all.

Don’t worry though, even if he is clueless when it comes to you, he’s had his fair share of sexual payback deals, so he’s got thousands of years of experience. Witches have used his body like a piece of meat time and time again.

Well, now he’s not just greedy for money. You’ll be lucky to ever sleep in your own bed again.

Might roleplay a prostitute and pimp, stripper and client, secretary and CEO, whatever situation that would possibly allow one of you to hand the other money.

Both of you swap, but Mamo, being greedy, enjoys it more when you top, doing most of the work. Won’t admit that though. 

He relishes in the feeling of your thighs bouncing up and down on his hips, weight draped over his as you kiss him with so much pressure you might just be able to make diamonds. 

Leviathan:

Too busy playing games, watching anime and boasting about his collection to think that you came to his room for any other reason.

Gets the idea when you sit on his lap, though, mid-speech about Henry and the Lord of Shadow’s latest exploits, grinding against him and grinding his words to a halt.

Although momentarily caught off guard, blushing as he stammers out an apology for not noticing sooner, he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into endless amounts of bliss.

The boy has a few tricks from harem games he’s played, lets not play ourselves.

He will ignore you when there’s a new release, but that doesn’t mean you can’t use him however you like. 

Sucking him off from under his desk as he struggles to concentrate on what’s going on onscreen, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as his friends’ voices echo through the headset. 

He will get a little annoyed, you did ruin his 20 Kill/Death ratio, but a sensual plea for his cock to bury deep inside you and he’ll be willing to forgive you. 

That is if you acquire this figurine he’s been looking into buying but can’t afford because Mammon borrowed money from him again. This time without asking.

Satan:

Some say makeup sex is the best kind of sex. Well, how about sprawled over ancient texts, forgetting to lock the libray door sex?

It can be hard to get him to put down the books and stop watching the dramas, especially when a PSA for an animal charity comes on, but, when you do... Honey.

There’s a lot of risk to being needy with Satan.

Sure, he’s happy to make you happy, but if you intend of fucking him out of his private time when he’s particularly engrossed in an book, please don’t push it. Unless you wanna get rammed from behind in the hallway outside the dining hall while he’s in demon form.

Sometimes, even with a pride that could rival Lucifer’s, Satan just can’t get off- which makes him a little pissy. Don’t worry, though, you can make him feel better by putting on a show, playing with yourself until your screaming his name. Then he’s harder than should be physically possible.

If there’s a sex scene on one of his detective shows, he’ll complain about how needless it is to the storyline, he has already realised who the killer is.

But, when he notices you haven’t said a word on the subject and are moving onto his lap, grinding on his thigh, blocking his view of the lewd, but short, scene, he couldn’t be happier about the character’s relationship development. 

He will be rewinding when you’re done, though. You missed about three episodes because of that scene.

Asmodeus:

If he isn’t the Avatar of Lust, you sure as hell might be.

Even before you got together, it was incredibly difficult to resist him. And not just because of his devilish powers.

The horny gremlin could hardly keep it in his pants before you dated, but now. Luv, get ready.

He likes to dress you in whatever sexy outfit there is. Whether its a full blown nurse outfit or the smallest lingerie going, you’re both happy to try anything.

You tried a nun’s outfit one time and, coincidentally, almost got caught by one of the angels. You had been experimenting in the library of Purgatory Hall, so it’s only you’re fault, but it was still a very, very close call.

He’ll never leave you hanging, you’ll definitely have more than five orgasms a round, but he’ll have twice as many.

He might ask if you want to include another person, and you might agree, depending on your openness to sexuality, but he’s not going to make you feel let out. 

You’ll feel like a royal, more important than Diavolo, ravished from all side, just by him. If you did include anyone else, they’d be lucky to even get their hands on you.

There will be times when, just so they could sleep, Lucifer will enforce a ban on how far you can go. You’re a screamer and he’s a moaner, and all the brother have had enough nightmares as it is. 

They’ll go as far as put a chastity belt on him, locking him in his room and sending you to stay with the angels for a couple days so they can have some peace and quiet during the night. 

But, when you come together again, Asmo’s cock still locked away, he’ll go full demon-mode, form and all, fingering and licking you like no other time before.

Jokingly asks if you defiled the angels without him, you joke that you did. You never thought Asmo would be so openly jealous, but that look then was almost as scary as Satan. If it didn’t turn you on so much, it would be.

Beelzebub:

He’s not dumb. 

Watching you jump on the counter, flirtatously crossing one leg over the other as he has his late late night snack, comments about how well he eats.

What that tongue do tho?!

It’s become customary for you two to meet up in the kitchen on his nightly visit, letting him eat all the food he wants before he buries his face in you right there and then.

Never have you been happier to have a gluttonous, demon boyfriend.

He’s just as horny as you are, eager to taste you at any given moment. 

And he’s not secretive about it.

At first, he would just walk up to you as you talked with his brothers or the angels, asking you if you wanted to use this whipped cream you introduced him to from a care package you got from home a month ago.

“It’s just whip cream, Beel. From the can.” You correct him before excitedly agreeing.

Because of this, Asmo’s asked to join in a few too many times for it to be a teasing joke anymore.

Now, after you tell him he might break Mamo if he asked you to ride his face because he was hungry as school again, he’ll whisper in your ear how much he wants you. It’s not much less obvious, but at least everyone doesn’t know the specifics of your sex lives anymore.

Belphegor:

Honey, he may be asleep half the time you are together, but fuck if he doesn’t know how to treat you well. 

He’s surprisingly perceptive so, when you take him to the attic, mentioning how far away it is from all his brothers, meaning it’ll be harder for them to hear the two of you, he does chuckle at your not so indirect way of telling him you want him. 

Don’t get me wrong, he’s going to make you work for it. Although, not in a way similar to Lucifer.

He’ll finger you to the edge, give you oral until you just about to topple over, have you ride him and then rip you off his lap the second he feels that slight tightening around his cock, thoroughly enjoy that broken, teary-eyed expression everytime you cry his name in annoyance. 

But, if you can muster enough strength, and he hasn’t fucked it all out of you yet, you could wrap your legs around his waist, making him make you cum when you’ve reached your limit.

You’ll be severely punished, covered in delicious brusies, but it’ll all be worth it.

Diavolo:

At first, he jokes about your obvious, desperate advances. 

Like, seriously, how can a human have so much energy?

He finds it cute when you pout because he’s busy.

When he has to make diplomatic trips, his D.D.D is ringing every other hour.

“MC, I love you. With all my heart. But I don’t think God will appreciate me listening to you cum in our meetings.”

Not to mention the amount of times Lucifer and Barbatos have walked in on you going at it on the throne (which is your favourite place to do it, as of late).

You honestly couldn’t care less. Demons are allowed to be horny sex fiends, why can’t you?

Diavolo never thought he could meet his match, but you, this human that stole his heart, might just have worn him out. 

However, what gets him every single time? You whispering in his ear as he’s discussing important matters of Devildom with Lucifer, his smirk making the eldest brother blush because he knows, and can probably hear, the plans you’re nibbling into Diavolo’s ear. 

All the positions, all the memories you wanted to recreate, all the sweet cries of pleasure.

You might as well be humping his leg.

“Oh, and Luci, did you want to join?”

Barbatos:

Doesn’t react much in public. 

Or at all, really.

He does represent Diavolo in everything he does, so it’s not like he can go around with hickies covering his visible skin.

You do try to rein it in for him, you respect his dedicaion for the future king of Devildom, he shows you a fraction of that same dedication and you’re on cloud nine, but it does get in the way sometimes.

For example, you could be in the middle of getting dicked down, the first time all week and it was WEDNESDAY, and Barbatos stands up straight, pulling right out of you, leaving to attend to whatever need Diavolo might have without another thought to you.

This had happened a few times now and you were tired of being blue-balled.

You had to go to the source.

“Diavolo!” 

Eyes practically alight with rage, you stormed right into Lucifer’s office, where you knew the two would be. 

Mammon had seen you in all your radiant, disheveled desire turned furious and you demanded he tell you exactly where the prince was, even if he didn’t know in that minute. 

This fiasco was ending. 

Today.

Lucifer was angry with your casual referral to such a high-standing demon, but Diavolo brushed it off because you were you. You were the human he found so endearing, wanted to learn more about. And you were Barbatos’ partner.

“Stop calling Barbatos at night! Better yet, give him the weekend. I can’t do it anymore! I’m going crazy here with all this edging! I haven’t cum in a month!!!” 

The words slipped from your lips without you caring, Lucifer’s frown lifting into a smirk as he smelt and sensed the need for sex all over you. Diavolo laughed at how utterly needy you were, nodding when he noticed you glaring.

“I swear, on all of Devildom, Barbatos is all yours when the sun sets.”

That night, you pulled out all the stops.

Candles, blankets, boxes upon boxes of condoms, lube, his favourite food, and your sexiest lingerie. There was no way you weren’t getting laid tonight. You were going to make it that you couldn’t walk tomorrow, no. matter. what.

Barbatos enjoyed his dinner with you, which was unusually tame compared to how you normally were. You were still a little angry about last night, when you were a thrust away from finishing when, apparently, Diavolo needed help and Barbatos lifted you off him and redid his pant buttons like nothing had happened.

However, after all the delectable food, the show really began.

A strip tease. A blowjob. He even finished you off once with his fingers, but it wasn’t enough. You had been so close too many times. You were cumming on that dick if it was the last thing you ever did in Devildom.

“Oh, I think Dia-.”

“Don’t you fucking dare say that name.” 

You gritted your teeth, clamping your hand over his mouth to shush any attempt to leave you hanging here. Literally. 

He was standing, holding you up by the thighs as you bounced on his cock, sweat coating both of you and breathing mixing as you tried to kiss but couldn’t manage the absence of oxygen for less than a second.

A muffled sound of confusion came from him as his grip on your ass loosened, but you wrapped your legs tighter around him so there was no way he could escape.

“I need to cum with you, Barbatos. I can’t take it anymore. I need you.”

Your voice croaked, tears of desperation filling your eyes, and that was all it took to send him into hyperdrive. 

You were pushed against the walls with a heavy thud, hitting your head at the force, and it would have hurt it you weren’t suffering from such mind-blowing pleasure.

It’s safe to say, you were never going to be edged like that ever again.

Solomon:

It doesn’t take magic to see the hints you’re throwing at him.

Bending over in the halloween costume you ordered off of Akuzon, making sure it was way too small before you hit checkout. You got a Pigwart’s uniform, saying that you must have accidentally bought the kids version, but there is no way in Devildom a skimpy cropped shirt and the shortest, most curve-hugging shorts would be a kids costume.

You don’t make it to that year’s RAD Halloween party, but Soloman promises to bring you back to Devildom for next year’s.

That is if you can make it in the sexy witch costume you were already planning.

Your relationship had first developed when he gave you tips on how to survive as a human in a world of angels and demons, but now he’s giving you tips on how to give him head better.

Not that you need it, he just likes to order you around.

Simeon:

He knows, but he doesn’t act on your overly sexual nature.

It breaks him to watch you beg, so the second you’re making advances, he swallows his embarrassment to pleasure you, reminding himself to pray extra, extra hard that same night.

You’re the one to initiate most of your encounters, running your hands up his arms, poking your fingers under his shirt through the shoulder cuts.

There’s this one song you’ve been listening to lately. A very sexy song. One recommended to you by Asmodeus. You can’t help dancing around whenever its on, feeling yourself like you are that bitch. 

One time you get out of the shower, think fuck it, drop your towel and start the routine you’ve basically got planned out by now. Rolling around on the floor, sticking your ass up, flipping your hair and shaking your thighs so you butt jiggles. 

You were so wrapped up in yourself you don’t notice Simeon sitting at the small desk you usually use for school work, mouth open agape as you give him to most sinful show he’s every seen. 

He had come to help you study, but...

Since when have humans been able to move so elegantly?

He thought you looked like an angel, but the way your sex is reveal to him as you part your legs at one point, there is no God that could approve of what thoughts were running through his head. 

Even though you had fun, you were panting by the end of it, laying on your fluffly carpet and snuggling your face against the comfort as you laugh at yourself. 

That is until you feel the pressure over you as your wrists are pinned above your head. 

“I’m going to hell for this.”

“Love, you’re already here.”

[theyanderespecialist]

Stripper Dear 2 (One Shot) Valentino X Marie OC (Hazbin Hotel) (Yandere)

[Hello My Sexy Readers, we are here with a part two and it shows more of Val bad side. And Manipulation remember val is a rapist and no matter how much he simps he also has anger issues that does not change with a yandere he is in hell for a reason. Anyways I hope you all enjoy this chapter as well our super sexy readers]

(Marie's pov)

I roll over in the bed. It had been a week since that while fiasco. I did tell Val how I felt about how he treated others, how he treated me, and he seemed to be trying..if I was around. I have a feeling he's a douche if I'm not around. I was just happy he gave me a full week off work which left me sitting in bed, taking baths, napping, and snacking..though I'm pretty sure I've gained a pound or two, I swear they put crack in the sweets. I hear a knock as I looked up letting out a grunt as the door opened as I see Val.

"Oh hey."

"Hello hello hello, it's bright and early, and you're still in bed." He said as I looked at him.

"Mhm.. and I don't plan on leaving." I said. Of course I wasn't, since I'm staying at Val's and his beds are..god they are so comfortable.

"You know I've been thinking it's been a while.." he said smiling as I knew what he was talking about.

"Has it now?" I asked as I smirked.

"sorry, no time. I've got work."

"Wha- I'm the owner, I say you don't have work."

"Mm..I Think the shift manager and my rent say otherwise." I said smirking as I got up. "Then what was that about not leaving?" "Oh I meant I'm not leaving this room unless necessary." I said as he placed his hands on his chest.

"Oh I see, now you see me as your personal bank card. Is that it?" I look at him and smile. "Mhm, yeah." I said as I ducked under his arms as I can hear him walking after me as I smirk. I don't actually have work it's just fun to see him get desperate.

(oh god Marie did a 180. I mean to be fair if you could manipulate a powerful demon Lord into being the one desperate for you, you'd probably do the same and besides it's harmless teasing.

(She so would so would I XD)

"Well I want you o move in with me." He said suddenly and I stopped looking up at him.

"Huh?"

"You heard me, I mean you been hear a week in my mansion and I have grown accustomed to you being here and I don't want you to work as a stripper no more." He says crossing his four arms. "I don't like the idea of other demons looking at you when naked."

"What would I do then?"

He smirked. "I could think of a few things in our free time~" He purrs. "But a job you actually want to do, want to be a baker bake want to design clothes do that. I want you happy as long as other demons keep there eyes off you."

(as long as you dont make this yandere angry he is good but your cross a line and he punish you for his darling only sees that soft loving side unlike anyone else.)

I looked at him as I then smiled and sighed. "Val..and here I was trying to surprise you that I didn't actually have work." I said as I smiled.

"But I can't just not work, getting a job could take a while, I don't want to be out of work and just doing nothing." I said as he looked at me.

"You know.. I should be mad at you for lying.. but I've come to learn you like to play around, but I'm serious. Move in."

"..do I get a choice?"

"Yes. Either say yes or say yes." He said.

I looked at him and then sighed, smiling. Yes he was not giving me a choice but it was because he loves me and wants me close. But I was worried about living off of him I did not want to do that.

"Val..I don't want to live here and not contribute, I don't know if I can get another job."

"I don't care hell you can bake and use me as a model for clothes while you wait but just thinking about that those demons do." I could see he was getting jealous and I smile.

"Val.. they normally behave.. well except for one guy when I went to grab my bag yesterday." I said holding down a smirk.

"What? What happened"

"oh nothing much, just..a handsome demon came over to me..told me how good I looked.."

He grabbed me and pinned me to the wall kissing me savagely I learned fast he was the jealous and possessive type. I kissed back.

"Don't make me fire you." He growled.

I smile. "I know you would never do that, but... I will leave my job but your going to be a co owner of my bakery mr. money bags. You know how good I can bake so it won't be long until demons are flooding in. But..." I say and press my foot on his clothed cock as he had me face level with him. "I think I should earn that money from you don't you~"

He smirked at that tossing me over his shoulder and taking me to his bedroom. I mean he gave me my own room so I could adjust but I did sleep with him every night regardless just lounge in the other bed instead of his during the day.

I won't lie sex was actually still scary in fact all of this, was just from videos I found, but some of it also came from I saw him with some other girls, and they just seemed so attractive. He brought me to the room, putting me down and quickly locking the door as I sat on the edge of the bed, smiling at him as I felt both scared and excited, I mean last time was so nice.

"Mm, so, like last time?" I asked smiling, however he smirked.

"Not at all like last time~" he said as he closed the blinds. What did he mean?

"I won't lie to you I have kinks. Some very kinky kinks. And I am also a man with very high sex drive. So today we are going to push boundaries. I will be rough demanding and in charge. But I will give after care in which I reassure you on how much I love you and make sure your okay this is not to punish or hurt you. It can feel good your safety word if you truly want me to stop is toothpaste. If you say that I will do my best to stop and take care of you. Is anything off the table at the moment?" He asks towering over me.

I was stunned I heard of bdsm before. So I had an idea of where we wanted to go. "Not something to painful.... like no whips or nipple glamps..." I say blushing at the thought

"I know this is just a taste of what we will do~ not going to through you in the deep end." He says. "Strip for me~ now."

I stood up, smiling at him as I pulled off my sweater, then pulling my shirt, making sure to pull it off slowly and then my bra, letting my breasts be free, stoping for just a second to push them together as he smelled as I pulled off my skirt, letting it drop to reveal that I was in fact, not wearing underwear. Every article I took off, I made sure to make it a show. He smirked and pushed me back on the bed. Pulling his pants off along with his clothes. I bit my lip as he cock sprang free.

"Time to put that mouth to work~" He says and I nod first taking him in my hand and then stroking him slowly to get him fully hard. I then start licking up and down his cock and he moans his fist clenching. I could tell even though he took control he was letting me get comfortable enough with the taste.

He was good when he wanted to be. It was difficult, but I got a rhythm as I licked up and down, putting the tip in my mouth before pulling away to once more as I run my tongue across his shaft. I could tell he was getting antsy so I take half his cock in my mouth and almost gag it was so much. He gripped my hair and started to fuck my mouth but was careful to not go to far down my throat. I sucked and made sure he felt just as good swallowing around his thick meat. I knew I wouldn't really be able to take all of it immediately, but I could tell he was loving it.. and I was happy about it. I let out a choked moan as I let him take the lead, my hands stroking what wasn't in my mouth,gagging occasionally but neither of us pulled away.

I was soaking the bed spread with how wet I was. He was close I could feel him twitching in my mouth but he pulled out and came all over my face. I gasp and cough slightly for air and some of his kids got in my mouth. I pant as I catch my breath. That..was actually really fun.. and based on his face, he wasn't done. He lifts me up and pins me to the bed before hand cuffing me to it. I gasp as he does so then he smirked at me and I shudder.

"w-w-what are you planning to do?" I asked, I was a little nervous.

"I am going to fuck you senseless and your not going to be able to stop me." He says and then lines up with me and I do everything to relax for the penetration.

Yet I felt excitement at those words... and he noticed. "my oh my, look at how wet you are."

I lets his tongue roll out and I did not realize how long it could get he barely had to get close to my woman hood to lick my pussy and I cried out. God that tongue of his~~

"Oh god~ Oh yes~" I moan

He chuckles and smirks.

I thrust up into his mouth. "P-Please! Pl-Please~!"

He smirked more and shoved his tongue in. My eyes roll into the back of my head as I moan thrusting my hips more as I feel his tongue hitting inside of me. I groaned as he worked it in deeper filling me to the brim with his tongue

I pant as I could feel every small movement, my hands turning to fists as I dig my nails into my palms as I moan. God...I mean of this was what Val was like..I can't imagine Stolas..oh that's...that's kind of hot.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY!" He snarled ripping his tongue out of me.

Shit I never seen him like this. Stolas was one of my regulars and he was even taller than Val. I did not mean to make him angry but I knew I crossed a line accidentally saying that out loud.

"i-I-I didn't- I-I didn't mean him! Val.." I said even having to try and shrink back, the tone in his voice..

"Val look at me, I didn't mean he w-was hot. I didn't mean him-Val please you're scaring me wh-when you look at me like that.." I whimper.

He pins me to the bed. "You are mine!" He says leaving bruises. "I Never EVER Want you to want another man or woman! You belong to me I loved you first and I am not loosing you!"

I nodded and started to cry and that is when his grip soften. "Oh baby I did not mean to scare, I just hate that you were thinking of another man when I was making love to you.... Or were you trying to make me jealous you minx~"

(Eddie that you? XD)

I look at him. I really wasn't, in fact if anything, I was trying to say Stolas would be too big for me... Val was ..also too big for me but, it wasn't too uncomfortable.. but I think, the best thing to do is play along though I was still to scared to speak as I could only nod.

"Well then I will just have to remind you how much I adore you and that you are mine and I will always only want you~"He says and starts to suck on my neck.

I moaned he knew what spots to hit to make me wet. I have to remember he loves me and I did think of another man while we were making love.

(Valentino's POV)

(Yeah he is a simp but you make him angry you better hope you can pull off making him jealous. Other wise. He will punish you and not in the fun way That is the type of yandere he is)

I graze my teeth over her neck as she would shudder, I could feel the goosebumps on her thigh. "i-I really am sorry..I-It sounded much more like a joke in m-my head.. I'm sorry..boss." she apologized through her moans.

(I mean you bruised her, without her consent dude, that ain't rough play, that's you hurting her.)

(Yeah dude you might be hot but you are toxic.)

"I am not your boss, I am your boy friend and lover, please call me Val." I say and kiss her bruised shoulders.

She looked at me. "O-Okay..V-Val." she said softly as I smile. "Now, I am sorry about bruising you..I wouldn't ever want to mark your skin..at least not n anger." I said as she looked at me. "N-No it's okay, I-I understand why you did it..why don't you let me make up for it?" She asked as I smirk.

"As hot as that is..."I said kissing her. "I think I need to make sure you know not to ever bring another man or woman up again~" I said as I flipped her over on her stomach as she couldn't really get up because of the handcuffs as I angle and thrust in as she cried out. Though..there's something that's so lovely seeing her face in such an intimate moment, doing this position is hot~ besides it really is a more dominating position than having her ride me.

"I won't take you anally not yet, that is saved for some other time. But I am going to be rough, just remember the safety work~" I say and start to thrust into her she cries out but moans soon.

After my five decades of sex all the time I found how to pleasure a woman or man or non binary person with ease. Being Pansexual also helped.

I'd know of she was in pain, that's why I stopped grabbing her. She managed to move her arms so that despite being handcuffed she could grab the headboard as she moaned from under me

I smirked she was such a naughty little slut trying to tease me. I continue to fuck her senseless she came two more times on my cock and I came once as well only to start up again she was a panting mess shaking on my cock.

"Val please~! HARDER~!" She begs.I smirk at that, this was the first genuine beg for me to go harder on her. "Oh I don't know....I think we've had quote enough fun." I tease pulling out. Course I wouldn't actually say no bit she looked at me shocked before she spread her legs, and continued to do so until she was in a full side split...

I stared at her shocked my cock becoming aching hard.

I.. I didn't know she was actually flexible..

"Well~? Aren't you going to keep going?" She asked."or...maybe you want to have my legs over my shoulders~?

I was in shock but did not waist another second. I had her pinned down and Started to fuck her senseless once more. I broke the hand cuffs and flip her over wrapping my arms around her.

She moaned loudly as she wrapped her arms around me, embracing me tightly as we both got lost in the moment. We both came together and I fell next to her.

“I love you Marie! So damn much!” I pant out

(and that's when she knew... she fucked up)

(XD Never sleep with a yandere life lessons not ones like Val at the very least XD)

She panted as she looked at me. "I-I.. yeah.." I look at her as I laugh. "Oh come on, you're not that tired that you can't think of anything else.".

She then smiled. "I love you too val.." she said. Man.. she must really be tired, I don't blame her. I grab her and pull her closer, her back presses against me as I lay my head down and close my eyes. I think a nap..is well deserved.

I am not going to loose her especially not to that bastard stolas.

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS And SNIFF SNIFF Do we smell another a sequel the answer is yassss we are going to show how This with Val is not a healthy relationship and how with someone like Stolas is more healthy I mean a relationship with a demon is still not so good. But it is better than Val. Anyways We hope you all enjoyed and stay sexy our friends!]

[normal-thoughts-official]

Thots on a figure skating au??? 🅱️lease

hmmmmmmm ok so disclaimer that i know nothing about figure skating so i'm just making up whatever

you got me in a difficult position here cuz on the one hand, i'd love for magnus to be a trainer/coreographer. i think it suits him wonderfully and that while obviously he is great at dancing and loves it, i think that he's more on the creative side of things, you know? so i could imagine something like figure skater alec and trainer magnus. and like alec is a shadowhunter so of course that demands a high level of control over your body that is similar to a figure skater's

but at the same time its funny to me to try to imagine alec figure skating when hes a fucking giant like that because like hes so big?? and when ur big like that ur kind of like... mandatorily graceless and clumsy to a degree methinks (not in a like oh hes always tripping and blushing way, more like the "you're on my leg, you asshole" blooper), because things aren't made for you. like really its an actual matter of accessibility sometimes, especially if you actually have the proportions of a real person like alec does (well, except for the yaoi mcfuckhands. they look big even compared to the rest of his ridiculous body he just b standing there and im like christ edward fingerhands we get it) cuz then Everything Is Bigger Than It Should ya feel

so yeah i can't really imagine alec in like, spandex being all graceful and shit, but at the same time rationally i could imagine that for his character, but also no. so i can't really go with that idea without laughing

but also i can't imagine him as a trainer/coreographer and i don't know who the fuck else is involved with figure skating anyway so is alec like, the janitor or some shit???? some fucking basketball player who sees him at the olympics??? lord help me i have no idea

OK SO IT'S BEEN LIKE 5 MONTHS SINCE I FIRST PUT THE FIRST PART OF THIS ANSWER IN MY DRAFTS (rip anon im so sorry) and i THINK i got it!!! alec could be like, the uhh personal trainer? physical trainer? YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN like the one dedicated to making sure the figure skater's body is. capable of. dancing. idk how to explain it but you do get it don't you??? ok

i'm mostly going off my dancing experience here (i had dance classes for like, 10 years of my life, and ugh i miss it) and like besides dancing you always have to train like lifting and doing localized training and stuff because you can't really dance if you don't have strength and flexibility and stamina and all that stuff. the only time i would willingly work out was for dancing lmao especially when i was in my hiphop crew. anyway

and while for me the one responsible for that part of training was the same person as my teacher/coreographer (or when i was doing hiphop it was just. on me to do that lmao but i'm not complaining) i figure when you're a professional and not just a dumb kid that's probably two different people, right? if not it is now. idc

i could go with figure skater magnus and trainer alec but also im really feeling the dynamics of coreographer magnus and trainer alec? like it'd be cute/funny to see them trying to work together for that ya know. so sorry that this feels less like a figure skating au especially since it took me so long to answer it but aaa

but also i mean as a coreographer magnus would have to know how to do it obviously so you would most definitely get a figure skating magnus. alec going to close up the gym and seeing magnus practicing by himself just for fun, anyone? and magnus looks gorgeous as ever way more gorgeous than whoever they're coaching but that's just alec's opinion and magnus kind of stops like "oh, i didn't know you were here" and alec's like "oh oops. anyway keep going you're great at this" and magnus feels a little self conscious but soon he gets lost in it again because really he loves doing this and alec is just appreciating the artwork :)

ANYWAY the dynamics of trainer and coreographer are fun. magnus showing up to alec like "hey alec so i need some heavy lifting on them arms cuz meliorn [idk i don't have any better ideas for who they could be coaching] is gonna carry an elephant onstage" and alec is like "uhh" and meliorn is like "a fake elephant" and alec is like "i mean good but i still have questions"

and magnus is like "obviously we would never use trained elephants, the way they are treated is inhumane" and alec is like "you're completely right but also that's your only worry when it comes to meliorn carrying a real elephant?" and magnus is like "i'm sure you could pull it off ;) you're the best after all" and alec gives him that amused smile

advantages of meliorn: they don't care about the flirting anyway since they are literally Like That too

also magnus and alec working out together off the clock, some ogling on both sides and just generally funny competitive shenanigans. especially cuz like magnus is hella fit but alec works in that stupid gym so he knows what he's about. and alec's all smug about it like "i can lift more than you :)" and magnus is like "oh yeah? let's see how you do in the ring" "no" "yes" "no" "why, can you not do it?" "yes. i know my limits" "well that's too bad... because you're going in anyway"

cue alec falling on his face probably but also like goddamn it he's competitive and he's not gonna let magnus have too much of a win so he tries his best rip. anyway then we probably get some hip touching bullshit when magnus tries to explain it to him and magnus is flirting the whole time and alec's laughing and it's sweet

i have half a mind to make up some angsty backstory about how magnus used to be a figure skater too and his partner was (you'll never guess it) camille and then she pulled the rug from under him and he kinda left the competitions altogether for a while. and then he came back as a coreographer (listen, he loves to dance, but creating is one of his favorite parts and he was always involved in coreographing anyway. his old coreographer and him were always having a blast and camille did not like it) and this is kinda his debut as a coreographer at some big shot competition idk and he just feels like he has so much to prove?

lol bonus camille's new coreographer is lorenzo so the hating magnus squad is in thick against him and it's a whole thing you know

OH MEGA ANGSTY camille got him out of the competition because she outed him as trans and he was declassified because something something transphobic bullcrap so he wasn't allowed anymore. i assume this was like right after they won because of course she wouldn't compromise herself, or maybe it was at the beginning/pre-stages of the championship so she had time to find a new partner. yeah that last one and then she won with the coreography that he had helped them create. im saying she did that because he broke up with her finally after years of abuse both in work and out of it so she did that as revenge or to make sure he couldn't have his passion anymore. and it took magnus years to build himself back up as a coreographer this time because transphobia (and racism) in the market but guess what? he is extremely smart and talented and creative so now he is back at the championship and he wants to show the world what they have been missing on

hmmmmm also i implied this is in pairs since magnus and camille used to be one so i think meliorn's pair would probably be izzy and maybe that's why alec's involved? like he was already a personal trainer or whatever which his parents were fine with even though it's not of course as grand as they would've liked (meaning they were total asses about it) but when izzy decided to go into sports/art they lost their shit and didn't want to support her so, you know, alec did and became her trainer. which is just as well because he is the best so like, deal with it. not saying they like kicked her out or anything (esp cuz i imagine part of alec's reasoning is that izzy stood by him when he came out and if they didn't kick him out over being gay they wouldn't kick her out over being a skater but y'know) but they definitely wouldn't support her so they both also feel like they have a lot to prove

lol me: i have half a mind to make this angsty. also me: paragraphs and paragraphs of angsty backstory

anyway they win obviously idk what to tell you they just do cuz we stan talent. camille is second for maximum drama and vengeance, the lightwoods try to get the spotlight once izzy wins and she and alec tell them to fuck off, they advocate for specific rules prohibiting ppl to declassify trans ppl over being trans and that's all i have tbh

sorry it took so long to answer daiudsauihda but i hope that outline is at least interesting for you!

[carewyncromwell]

The Cinderella AU is back...and with it, a proper introduction to the character who fills the “evil stepmother” role -- Carewyn’s cold, cruel grandfather, Charles Cromwell. If you’d like to learn more about Charles and his family’s canon counterparts, you can consult this post, but to summarize quickly, in Carewyn’s canon, Carewyn’s mother Lane ran away from home to elope with a Muggle, which ended up protecting Carewyn and Jacob from Charles’s emotionally abusive influence. (At least until R started going after them, because hey, what d’you know, in Carey-bear’s canon, Charles is R’s leader.) But in this AU, Carewyn has to answer to Charles for some reason...so yeah, that doesn’t bode well, does it? You’ll just have to read on to learn a little more about why that might be...

Fashion changed very dramatically during the Renaissance, thanks in large part to the cross-pollination of different cultures and influences that came from more extensive travel, the growing popularity of published works, and royal funding of the arts. Pre-Renaissance men’s fashion, at least for the nobility, was very big on oversized sleeves, which ended up creating a more “top-heavy” frame. (Just look at most portraits of King Henry VIII.) As the Renaissance went on, though, trunk hose (which creates that kind of “bubble butt” look that we’re used to seeing in William Shakespeare Halloween costumes) became the latest fad, shifting a man’s frame to be much more “bottom-heavy.” Women’s fashion briefly flirted with wide trumpet sleeves (as one can see in this portrait of a young Elizabeth Tudor, later Queen Elizabeth I), but by the time the 1550′s were over, rounded sleeves grew much more popular. Fitted sleeves also went in and out of style in a lot of Europe throughout the 16th century, though sleeves were considered a special feature on gowns, so they often had a lot of embellishments, such as paneling, embroidery, or puffs. One exception to this rule, however, was in Italy, where fitted, detachable sleeves that could be used on multiple gowns became fashionable. Fashion in Italy in the 16th century was notably understated and modest compared to a lot of Europe, which tended to favor a lot of ornate beading and embroidery -- there were even laws on the books restricting how “bedazzled” women’s fashion could be. One such law even banned stripes, as it was considered wasteful to use two different kinds of fabric just to make a pattern. That being said, there were plenty of people in Italy who said “screw the rules” and worked around them anyway. Carewyn’s dress in this picture is somewhat based on this design, but with some tweaking, most notably with a fuller skirt and more ornate and puffy sleeves.

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

When the end of the month arrived, Andre requested that Carewyn come to his chambers bright and early in the morning. Carewyn had anticipated that the prince had some extra duties for her to attend to, but instead, he immediately led her over to a corner of his bed chamber that he’d drawn a curtain around. When he pulled the curtain back, he revealed a full tailoring station inside his walk-in closet, complete with organized rolls of fabric, various jewels and beads strewn about over a table, several unfinished hats stacked on the nearby desk, an entire separate wardrobe of unfinished pieces, and several mannequins with fine fabrics half-pinned on them.

One mannequin, however, was wearing a completely finished, luxurious dark scarlet gown. It was made of about six different fabrics, all cut and sewn together in a complex tapestry of folds and textures and trimmed with many sparkling beads and jewels. Also lying on the floor just in front of the dress was a pair of heeled shoes made of off-white cloth with red and white roses sewn into the toes.

Carewyn couldn’t help but gape. Andre was grinning from ear to ear.

“So?” he asked. “What do you think?”

Carewyn glanced out the side of her eye at the prince, over to the dress, and back.

“Did you...make this, your Highness?” she asked, amazed.

Andre laughed. “Carewyn, please, it’s ‘Andre.’ But yes! I got inspired while working on your shoes, so I stitched this up to go with it. ...Do you like it?”

Carewyn walked around the mannequin to look over the gown, not daring to touch it. She’d never seen so many fine fabrics on one dress before -- velvet, linen, silk -- and all the embellishments must’ve taken full days to finish --

“It’s -- well, it’s extraordinary, your -- Andre,” she corrected herself very quickly noticing the prince’s pointed smile. Even she was finding it difficult not to smile too. “The beading on the sleeves, the lace work -- the alternating wool and cotton paneling along the bodice...it’s worthy of an artisan!”

Andre looked clearly both incredibly pleased and impressed. “You have an eye for detail, Carewyn!”

His face burst into a bright white grin as he bent down and picked up one of the off-white cloth shoes.

“I’m pleased you like it,” he said brightly. “I thought it’d be the perfect thing for you to wear today. Lord Cromwell sent a message to the palace asking Father if you could return home for a visit -- so I worked all night to get this done in time so that you could wear it for your outing with your new shoes.”

Despite her best efforts, Carewyn couldn’t completely keep the dismay and discomfort she felt off her face.

“What? Oh -- oh, your Highness, I -- ”

“Ah, ah, ah,” chided Andre, “what have I asked you to call me?”

“Andre,” Carewyn corrected very quickly, her eyes drifting up onto the dress rather than at Andre, “this dress is...truly beautiful...but it befits a lady of status, not -- ”

“It fits you,” Andre said, undaunted. “I used the measurements from your uniform fitting. It should fit you like a glove -- or better.”

Carewyn felt like her stomach was shriveling up. She hated turning away such a lovely gift -- under any other circumstances, she would love wearing it out and about. But...

“That...that is...it’s so kind of you, to use me as your template...”

Or “dress-up doll” -- that is what the Queen said I would be, isn’t it?

“...but I simply couldn’t wear such a gift on my visit...not when I have no comparable gifts to bring my cousins. Many of them are around my age, and...and well, I know Heather, Iris, and Dahlia would be very upset, knowing I got to wear such a beautiful dress and they didn’t.”

None of her cousins had ever been very respectful of Carewyn’s personal belongings. Not long after she first arrived, her aunt Pearl’s two bullying sons, Kain and Arsen, stole her jewelry box while she was sleeping and sold both it and its contents for pocket change. Her youngest cousin, her uncle Blaise’s bratty son Tristan, had once thrown a bottle of red wine out the window that shattered mere feet away from Carewyn and soaked her dress so badly that it never washed out. Even Iris had -- after Carewyn caught the eye of one of her suitors who’d come to call -- ripped the sleeve off Carewyn’s dress so badly that she had to hide from sight for most of the day, until she’d managed to sew it up enough that her chest wasn’t exposed. Carewyn had had to hide her mother’s old dress from her cousins for years, for fear they might steal and/or ruin it.

Andre frowned deeply.

“Well, I hardly can send along anything for your cousins without knowing their measurements,” he said with a quick glance at the wardrobe full of unfinished pieces.

His face then brightened with an idea.

“How about this -- I’ll order you. I order you to wear this dress on your trip home, and to have your cousins give you their honest opinion of it. Then you must bring their opinions back to me. Goodness knows I could use some feedback -- and maybe a few new ideas, if they have them,” he added with a teasing grin.

Carewyn opened her mouth to object, but Andre cut her off.

“As your prince, I command you to showcase my work to your family,” he said through a broad grin. “Am I clear?”

Carewyn really, really didn’t love the idea -- but she had to concede that she could use this to her advantage. She needed a stable place at the palace in order to achieve her goals, and she could help maintain that stable place at the palace by justifying to Charles why she had to be there. And Charles’s whole interest in her being there was to try to endear the Cromwells further to the royal family, and maybe even secure one of her Aunt Claire’s daughters a space in that family...

So, with a heavy sigh, she put on a small smile and inclined her head respectfully.

“Very well, Andre. I’ll wear your work proudly.”

And so Carewyn set off for the Cromwell estate on horseback, dressed in the new shoes and dress Andre had made for her. The shoes were lovely and fit perfectly, but they were rather impractical for walking around outdoors. Carewyn thought to herself that she might have to continue wearing her old shoes when she returned to her palace work, if for no other reason that she hated the thought of getting them scuffed up.

As to be expected, when she arrived, her cousins reacted very hostilely to her appearance.

“Well, well,” sneered curly-black-haired Kain, “what do we have here? Playacting as a lady, little Winnie?”

“All hail Lady Cinderwyn, Duchess of Dust!” sniggered his similarly dark-haired brother Arsen.

He reached for her wide skirt, but Carewyn -- remaining on her horse -- steered herself far enough back that he couldn’t reach.

“I wouldn’t damage this, if I were you,” she said as coolly and levelly as she could. “It’s not mine.”

Arsen and Kain exchanged a mocking, wide-eyed look and an “oooooh.”

“Are you a thief now, little Winnie?” asked Kain. “How far you’ve fallen -- we might need to call the castle guard on you -- ”

“Cinderwyn’s a thief!” crowed tiny Tristan in a sing-song voice. “Cinderwyn’s a thief!”

Claire’s three daughters looked a lot less mocking.

“You have some nerve, stealing clothes from your betters,” spat dainty, brown-haired Heather. “Grandfather should lash you within an inch of your life -- ”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” Carewyn said very firmly. “Now I wish to see Grandfather. I have a message from the Prince he’ll want to hear.”

“Grandfather’s inside,” said Claire’s gangling, button-nosed son Elmer with a crooked smile. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy your new look, Lady Cinderwyn...especially with the finishing touch!”

He jumped right into a mud puddle that splashed everywhere. Carewyn just barely avoided the spray, but when she moved back, Dahlia and Iris successfully grabbed hold of her velvet brocaded skirt and yanked hard in either direction, as if trying to rip it.

“Iris -- Dahlia --  ” said Carewyn, her voice growing colder and harder as she struggled to hold in her temper and emotion as best she could, “if either of you have any ambition to marry his Highness, I would strongly suggest letting go of his dress this instant!”

All of Carewyn’s cousins stiffened.

“His dress?” repeated Dahlia, looking outraged. “You mean to say you took this from the Prince?!”

“He bid me to wear it, for my visit,” Carewyn shot back fiercely. “Or would you have me oppose his Highness’s will?”

“You...arrogant, pretentious, ungrateful little rat!” shrieked Dahlia. She tried to yank Carewyn off her horse, and there was a slight struggle as Carewyn tried to both comfort her horse and prevent Dahlia from dislodging her.

“Now, now, children,” said a very coldly serene voice, “a little less noise there.”

All of the Cromwell children looked up to see Charles Cromwell striding across the lawn. He was dressed in black, gray, and white with a dark red cape with black trim, and he supported himself on an ebony-wood cane with a dragon’s head carved out of black zircon for a handle. Behind him were Carewyn’s aunts, Pearl and Claire, with their husbands, as well as her uncle Blaise. All three of them were looking over Carewyn’s outfit disapprovingly -- Blaise looked particularly irritated, his upper lip curling as he rested a hand on top of Tristan’s shoulder that made the small boy flinch.

Iris and Dahlia were still clinging to Carewyn’s skirt, but they’d frozen up like startled cats when their grandfather appeared.

“Grandfather -- ” stammered Iris, “W-Winnie’s a no-good thief -- she stole this dress from -- !”

"I have stolen nothing,” Carewyn repeated coldly. She stroked her horse’s white mane several times to soothe it.

Pearl too had come up to rest a hand on Arsen’s shoulder and was looking at Carewyn very critically out her own almond-shaped blue eyes -- most of Carewyn’s family had them.

“Is that so?” she said, her voice a low growl in her throat. “Explain, then, what gives you the nerve to show up here dressed in such obnoxious clothes.”

“It’s positively garish,” added Claire in a higher, simpering tone from her comfortable spot in her husband’s arms, mirroring her sister’s disapproval like a child would imitate their older sibling.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows very coolly. “Prince Henri will be very disappointed to hear that. He worked very hard on this.”

This startled all of the Cromwells. Blaise looked scandalized.

“And I suppose that makes you think the Prince favors you somehow?” he spat, his eyes flashing dangerously as he released Tristan’s shoulder and approached Carewyn’s horse. “Rather than just thinking of using you as some saucy little tart and then discarding you, just like your wretch of a father did your mother -- ”

"I think nothing of the sort,” Carewyn cut him off coldly.

Don’t you dare talk about my mother.

Charles, the least visibly startled, took a few steps forward. Iris and Dahlia finally released Carewyn’s skirt so as to get out of the way, and Charles came to a stop about three feet from Carewyn’s horse, his own almond-shaped eyes locked on his ginger-haired granddaughter’s face.

“I believe you owe me a full report, child,” he said quietly. “Stand before me and give it.”

Carewyn’s red-painted lips pursed as she picked up her skirts and descended from her horse at last. She looked up at Charles with a very stoic expression.

“Prince Henri learned that I would be coming to see you, as per your request,” she explained. “He commanded that I wear this dress, for my visit. He’s heard about my cousins and desires Dahlia, Iris, and Heather’s opinions on it. Then he requested I deliver their feedback back to him this evening.”

The time limit was a flat-out lie, but one Carewyn knew she could get away with. She did not want to stay at the Cromwell estate overnight -- she’d rather sleep on a lumpy old cot in the servants’ quarters than on the floor by the kitchen fireplace. 

Claire looked at Charles, her face breaking into a rather eager expression. “His Highness wishes to hear from my daughters? He must have heard from the rest of the court of their extensive talents -- ”

“Or at least purported talents,” said Blaise under his breath with a rather cynical look. “Seems the rumor mill is working well...“

Pearl shot Blaise a glare, but Claire didn’t seem to hear him -- she had already whirled on Carewyn.

“Tell his Highness that the dress is a work of art, fit for a queen!” she said insistently. “And make sure that he knows that there are much better models for his work here, at the Cromwell estate -- Iris has a far superior build, Dahlia the most perfect shoulders -- ”

“I suppose Winnie can do far worse than inanely fawning over your daughters’ target on their behalf,” said Blaise in a rather cutting voice. “Mindlessly swooning certainly worked for you.”

“Blaise!” Pearl snapped reproachfully.

Charles’s eyes drifted over Claire and her three anxious-looking daughters thoughtfully.

“...What feedback...do you believe would most please his Highness, child?” he asked Carewyn.

“He appreciated it when I noticed the details,” said Carewyn. “I would think if anyone had any creative ideas to add onto it...or perhaps constructive criticism...he might react well to it. His Highness is very interested in fashion and tailoring...I’m sure he would appreciate knowing someone who could indulge in that passion with him.”

He must be awfully lonely, locked up in the palace all the time. It’s no wonder he tried to find things to do indoors that could bring him some joy, if he’s unable to go much of anywhere...

Charles’s eyes flitted over the silk and ornate beading on Carewyn’s sleeves.

“His Highness certainly does have an eye for finery...has the royal family come into additional wealth recently?”

“I don’t think so,” said Carewyn. “The castle staff is very limited. And although the nobility are all dressed and fed well and the castle is decadent, the staff is frequently short of common necessities like nails and coal for the fire. Not to mention the staff’s rations are sparse.”

Iris gave a loud, haughty laugh. “Ha! Probably just as well -- you could do with getting some of that meat off your thighs!”

“Iris,” said Charles very sleekly, even as the rest of Carewyn’s cousins sniggered.

His lips curled up in a smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

“...It seems that the King and Queen are indeed in need of our family’s charity. But we must indulge their pride. It’ll be far easier for them to accept help from a future daughter-in-law and princess than simply from a loyal servant of the realm. Carewyn -- you shall report back what his Highness wishes to hear. Customize three answers for Heather, Iris, and Dahlia -- one fawning, one critical, one creative. Whichever answer he likes best, we will then pursue that route with the cousin you’ve assigned to it.”

His almond-shaped blue eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Carewyn’s face.

“And once we’ve secured an invitation from the Prince...I expect that you will step aside, to make room for your cousin to make her move.”

Carewyn’s expression didn’t shift.

“I’m not interested in courting princes,” she said lowly.

Heather, Iris, and Dahlia can knock themselves out. Andre will see through them sooner or later, and it’ll be all their own fault.

There was a cold, diamond-like glint in Charles’s eye. “...Yes...you truly don’t care to chase any man except for your brother...do you, Carewyn, my dear?”

Carewyn tried not to blink or look away.

“You have news of Jacob?”

Charles sighed airily. “I’m afraid not, my dear. I know he’s well, of course...but news from the War front, as you know, is simply impossible to come by...”

“You know he’s alive,” Carewyn shot back a bit more sharply than she meant to. “That doesn’t mean he’s well. No one could be doing well out there.”

“And yet I’m sure you’re happy that the first is guaranteed?” said Charles. “At least, so long as you do your duty to your family, and to me?”

It was a warning, but it was done so delicately -- it was like his voice was flirting with a threat, rather than flat-out making one.

Carewyn’s lips came together tightly as her gaze drifted to the ground.

“You know I wish no harm to come to either you or Jacob,” Charles said softly. “Losing a child was terrible enough, losing grandchildren as well...well, it would deeply upset me. And per our agreement, you are the one who must shoulder the burden of your brother’s and your debt to me...particularly since you have no dowry and no possible claim to my estate. Remember, Carewyn...you are responsible for how you are treated -- and for how Jacob is treated.” 

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit tightly together over her closed eyes.

“...Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now then -- rehearse the answers you plan to give to his Highness with your cousins. I wish them to sound convincing, so that when one or more of them is invited to the palace, they will be able to play their part appropriately.”

Carewyn hated every minute of hashing out responses with Heather, Iris, and Dahlia. Like their mother Claire, they and Elmer were all “follower” type personalities who tended to echo whatever they thought would please others -- so Dahlia, Iris, and Heather were constantly trying to steal each other’s ideas to “improve” Carewyn’s answers, despite all three of them supposedly needing to take three different approaches as part of Charles’s plan. Even the three girls’ hostile attitude toward Carewyn largely came down to her refusing to follow their direction, despite her lowered status in the family giving them authority over her -- something that, Carewyn believed, they would never do if their positions were switched.

When Carewyn was finally ready to leave (and successfully avoided Tristan’s muddy hands when the wickedly grinning little boy forcibly tried to hug her goodbye so he could leave stains on her dress), Blaise pulled Charles aside. As the male heir of the Cromwell legacy, Blaise had always followed in his father’s footsteps most, but there was one thing they didn’t agree on.

“Father,” he said, his voice very low in the back of his throat as he watched Carewyn ride away at a fast gallop, “I don’t approve of her returning to that place.”

Charles smiled coldly. “You always have disliked sharing your toys with others, Blaise.”

“It’s a bad influence!” said Blaise, whirling on his father. “We can’t monitor what she does, how she behaves -- who she speaks to -- how can we hope to keep her, if we consistently open her cage?”

Charles’s eyes, the same color and shape of all of his children and most of his grandchildren, sparkled with something crueler.

“Ah, my boy,” he said sardonically, “you have much to learn about cages. Physical cages have strong bars, but ones easy to see and constantly weathered. But a cage forged carefully in another’s mind...can become so strong that the prisoner willingly chooses to stay.”

Charles turned on his heel, his lips curling up further still even though his face remained so doll-like and emotionless.

“As weak and overemotional of a thing she is, Carewyn is far more like you and me than Lane ever was. She’s very resourceful and she’ll do whatever she has to in order to get what she wants -- and that drive fuels everything she is and does. It may make her spirited, but it also makes it so that as long as she sees Jacob’s life in the palm of my hand...so too will she be.”

Blaise’s eyes flickered with a strange skepticism. “And...if Jacob’s life were ever not under your sway?”

Charles’s expression grew even more detached and emotionless as his smile faded and his eyebrows raised.

“...Would Carewyn really want to contemplate what state he’d be in, if he weren’t?”

Carewyn couldn’t be happier to leave the Cromwell estate behind. She didn’t slow down her horse’s pace until she’d reached the outskirts of the market, well after the manor house was out of sight. Only then did she slow her horse down to a leisurely trot, so that she could enjoy some time on her own wandering down the village streets before heading back to the palace. The castle staff wasn’t expecting her back to work until the following morning, so she could take her time.

Unfortunately for Carewyn, there was another reason her cousin Tristan’s hands had been so muddy -- and that reason soon became apparent when Carewyn reached into one of the pockets on the side of her saddle, thinking to temporarily change out of the pretty shoes Andre had given her and were now pinching her feet for the ride home. When she reached into the pocket, she instead found the tiny snake that Tristan had stolen out of the reeds by the nearby pond.

With a scream of surprise, Carewyn flung the snake to the ground -- the snake arched back, hissing angrily, and that in turn spooked Carewyn’s horse. With a loud, scared whinny, it reared back, bucking wildly.

“Whoa!” cried Carewyn. “Whoa, boy -- whoa!”

Several passerby turned around at the sound of the noise. A few looked like they wanted to help, but were too warded off by the horse’s kicking feet. Carewyn tried desperately to calm her horse, stroking its mane with one hand and clinging desperately onto the reins with the other, but it was no use. She wasn’t strong enough to wrench her horse into submission. And so when the horse gave a particularly violent jerk, Carewyn was thrown right off.

“AHH!”

Out of nowhere, someone dashed forward. Carewyn ended up slamming right into them, and the two landed roughly in a heap in the dirt.

Carewyn watched her horse gallop off the street, her face very tense and distraught. She then looked down at the person she’d landed on top of, and she gave a visible start.

Her “hero” was a man about her age dressed in modest clothes with tanned skin, slightly-too-long dark hair, and a beard. His sparkling black eyes were squinted slightly as he winced in pain, but nonetheless shone with some concern as he looked her over.

“Are you hurt, Lady Cromwell?” asked Orion.

[green-and-grey-kenaz]

I Sleep with the Dirt by Fire Glow

Language: English

Chapter 2: I'll be home, safe and tucked away

Characters in Chapter: Regulus Black, Sirius Black,  Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter

Chapter Summary:

Sirius and Regulus (returned from the dead and overcoming inferius tendencies) have a conversation over whether or not they should adopt Harry Potter. Regulus and Dumbledore have a conversation about Horcruxes and Regulus has some revelations about Voldemort. Sirius visits the Dursleys for afternoon tea and threatening them.

Word Count: c. 4 000

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34049455/chapters/84695911 (whole work, starting from chapter 1)

“Need new room.” Regulus said suddenly, looking up from his breakfast. Kreacher had prepared him a platter of meats and cheeses to have on bread. He’d made quick work of the delicious meats and had started ripping the bread into manageable chunks. Sirius always made him eat something that wasn’t meat for some reason.

“What?” His brother asked, looking up from his breakfast of spiked coffee and a single chocolate croissant.  

“M’ room’s for children. ‘m not child. ‘nd has memories.” Regulus said carefully. “Can’t get better with memories. Not good.”

“Reg, I know this house is big and all but we don’t have enough room for you just to claim two.”

“You have.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I ran away. It wasn’t my room anymore.”

“I died.”

Sirius sighed, rolling a hand down his face and taking a long sip of his spiked coffee before pouring a liberal helping of whisky in to top it up. A part of Regulus knew he should be concerned with how much Sirius was drinking. The other part of him pushed his empty glass towards his brother. He got a thimble full.

“Look, after I’ve moved Harry in you can get a second room, I think that’s fair, don’t you?”

“Hm. Not allowed.”

“Look, I don’t care what Dumbledore says, I’m his Godfather! He’d be a lot better off with me. I’m moving him in with us and that’s final.”

“Eat him.”

“You are not eating Harry, Reg!”

“Food.”

“I know you know he’s not food. You know people aren’t food. You don’t eat Remus.”

“Don’t try to anymore. Could. If I wanted to.” He sounded sullen, even to himself but if there was one thing he did not want to allow, it was having Potter in the house. Regulus had already lost his brother to a Potter once. He wasn’t going to again.  

Sirius groaned.

“No eating people. Besides, I know you don’t want to eat people. You want to be better and back to normal. That’s why you’ve been trying so hard at reading and presenting yourself.” He gestured at Regulus’ outfit. He’d dressed carefully for the day in the rich fabrics that Sirius now let him wear. It didn’t stop Regulus glowering at Sirius for speaking the truth. He would rather not eat the Potter spawn. He did want to return to being who he had once been and not some mindless creature focused on the consumption of human flesh (as tasty as it was). Merlin! He shouldn’t find human flesh tasty! That was not normal.

When he was better, Regulus knew he would be able to do things he enjoyed and missed. He could finally meet Narcissa and her son. He could take afternoon tea with Severus rather than the brief meetings that Sirius tolerated. He could read more than a few pages of a book before his mind forced him to chase whatever dust mote had caught his attention because Merlin forbid he try sit down and focus on himself.

“Come off it, Reg. You care and you know it.”

“Fine. Doesn’t mean must have Potter.” He snapped. He glanced towards the hallway a plan formulating in his head. Would it be worth it?

“No, you are not setting mother off because you’re in a strop, Regulus.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s petty and beneath you. Besides, it distresses her to see you so.”

That was an unpleasant reminder. He had tried to have a conversation with his mother, hoping that it would make him feel more like himself. She had scarcely recognised him as he was. Feral. Wild. Uncivilised. Not like any son of hers. Sirius told him to take no heed of the portrait which had likely been made close to her death and to have little of who she actually was.

It did not make Regulus feel much better. But mother screaming at Sirius would.

“Look, Harry’s moving in with us. He has to. We can’t leave him to suffer with the Dursleys. They’re muggles. You wouldn’t wish muggles on anyone. Didn’t you use to tell me that muggleborns should give up the muggle heritage and be adopted into a pureblood family. Well, here’s our chance.”

“Not Potter.” Regulus insisted. “Not him. Get another one.”

“It’s not because I’m being charitable. Harry’s my Godson and that’s why we’re adopting him.”

“I’ll leave.” Regulus threatened.

“And where would you go?”

“Cissa.”

“What? And put her son at risk?”

“Then I am a risk! Would eat Potter!”

Sirius sighed, running a hand down his face, pulling at his skin which only served to make him look more skeletal. He had not put back on the weight he should have after Azkaban. Regulus knew he was filling out his own weight, recovering from the lack of appetite that had emerged when he realised his only destination was the grave. If he could put the weight back on, so should Sirius. It was another worrying sign that he did not know what to do with.

“Reg, you’re not well yet. That doesn’t make you a risk. Just…”

“Eat people.” Regulus admitted. “Risk.”

“You’ve not tried to eat someone in a long time. Think about it, it’s been weeks and you’ve not once tried to eat me, Professor Dumbledore, Remus or Snape. Although the latter might be because I can’t imagine he’d taste very nice what with all the grease.”

“Be nice.” Regulus growled. He had learnt to tolerate the wolf, even though he had hurt Sirius. Severus had never hurt him so Sirius should respect their friendship.

“See, you’re even caring about people. That’s a good step.”

“No Potter. Go to Cissa.”

“Fine, even if you aren’t worried about hurting Draco, what about Lucius? Wasn’t he a Death Eater?”

Regulus stilled, frowning. Lucius was one of theirs. Had been? The newspapers he was slowly working his way through said that Malfoy had been found innocent of any crimes. Yes he may be a purist but could anyone actually see someone of his calibre fighting and killing? Regulus had been offended that that excuse got Lucius off but not Sirius. Everyone knew Malfoys had opposed the Statute on Secrecy because they associated with Muggles and what was more, they allowed Half Bloods into the family tree! Blacks were of a much higher calibre.

What was he thinking about?

Lucius.

Ah.

He did not know his allegiance and while blood would keep him safe with Narcissa, he did not think Lucius would extend the marriage of their blood to the Blacks. No, he could not seek refuge with his beloved cousin.

“Not ready.” Regulus said softly, looking at Sirius. “Time.”

“Not ready for what?”

“Potter. Give me time.” He paused and frowned. “Please?”

Sirius sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Okay. We’ll wait.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“Good afternoon, Regulus.”

Bright blue eyes glittered as the old man sat down on a chair. Regulus however stared at his violet purple bag. There was something in there. It called to him like a siren, demanding his attention and focus.

“Sirius, if you could leave us?” Dumbledore asked and Regulus knew that his brother must be behind him. He always wanted to be included in these.

“I don’t see why I don’t get to stay when you have these little get togethers with Regulus. I was in the Order and served the cause well. There’s no reason to keep secrets from me.” Sirius grumbled but Regulus could barely hear him, so focused on the bag. It was like a faint calling echoing in his bones. His left arm itched.

“The fewer people who know, the better. And I think it is good for you and Regulus to get to spend some time apart. Not for long, of course, as there are few people who can know the full truth of Regulus’ situation, but we do not want either of you becoming co-dependent.”

“I’m not co-dependent.” Sirius muttered.

“It is a risk best to avoid. Regulus will have to return to school once he’s himself again.”

“Study here.” Regulus offered, still staring at the bag. The idea of being surrounded by children he might potentially eat was appealing which was why he should not go back. Besides, he hadn’t brought Sirius around to his way of thinking yet. He needed Sirius to understand. Sirius was his brother and as difficult as his return to life was it had been a long time since he had been this happy.

“Reg, you can’t teach yourself your NEWTs.” Sirius said.

“Can.” That seemed like a challenge and he was willing to take it up.

“Reg, you need to get proper teaching so we can get you back to normality.” Sirius said and Regulus felt a hand on her shoulder

Regulus shook his head.

“Stay. Safe. Family.”

He did not know if he zoned out but Sirius’ hand was no longer on his shoulder and was pulling away.

“Fine. I’ll go, but if it’s important, you would tell me, right Professor?”

“Sirius, I think we’re at the point you can call me Albus. And I would.” There was a reassuring note to Dumbledore’s voice. It reminded Regulus had how the Dark Lord spoke. Comforting promises. He heard the door close behind him.

“Good afternoon, Regulus. How have you been?” Dumbledore asked. Regulus stared at the bag and tried to remember what manners were. They had once been important to him. He heard the man sigh.

“I had thought you might be more ready for this.”

“What is it? What’s in the bag?”

Dumbledore gestured for Regulus to look and he dashed forward, hands eagerly reaching inside. It was a book. He fingered it carefully. Felt the feel of the paper and the weave of dead magic. The echo was as near familiar as the magic of his family and that could mean only one other person. The Dark Lord had near created him after all. Slowly, Regulus opened the book, staring at predominantly blank pages. The only writing which he could barely make out was the name ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle’.

“I think you know what this was.” Dumbledore said softly. “And that perhaps what you have been hiding, what you died to hide, was one of the same.”

“Horcrux.” Regulus whispered, caressing the diary. It felt… precious to him. He traced the lines denoting what had to be the Dark Lord’s true name.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.  

He knew the name Marvolo. He still remembered the ancestries that mother had instilled in him. That was a Gaunt family name. Descendants of Slytherin who had kept the family ties closer, marrying first cousins or kids to their uncles and aunts. An ignoble end to a once powerful line of magic.

Riddle was not a pureblood surname. It sounded English, so perhaps Australian, Kiwi or American. He did not know all their pureblood lines. But why hide it? Could… he be the unthinkable? Not pure?

“Thankfully destroyed, by the actions of your brother’s Godson.” Dumbledore said.

“How?”

“He killed a basilisk. The venom is quiet destructive.”

Regulus’ hand ran over the tooth mark.

“Slytherin’s pet.” He muttered. He wondered if he could get basilisk venom without Sirius realising. End this once and for all.

A realisation dawned.

“How many…” To split one’s soul once was a horrific act but to do it multiple times? Regulus had read the magic. It was dark and evil. He hadn’t even considered one might go through it more than once.

“Horcruxes? I do not know but I suspect that perhaps six horcruxes. That would give seven parts of the soul. A powerful number. This one came into my possession via Lucius Malfoy. Do you think that Voldemort-“ Regulus flinched and glanced around the room. His former Lord did not appear. “-Might have left other horcruxes with trusted Death Eaters?”

Regulus frowned. Bellatrix was the Dark Lord’s right-hand witch and no doubt the one he’d expect to have received anything so important. Malfoy… He would not have foreseen that, except perhaps as an honour to Narcissa, Bellatrix’s sister.  Perhaps they both had one. That would mean they knew who had three of the horcruxes. His cousins and him. Oh.

“He didn’t give me one.” Regulus said suddenly, looking up and realising the Headmaster’s thought process.

“Ah.” Dumbledore said, leaning back and with greater respect in his eyes. “Forgive me for asking, but how did you come to find one of, (hm, shall we say Riddle’s to avoid giving you too much of a fright?) horcruxes?”

Regulus reluctantly put the diary down. Tom Marvolo Riddle. A child sired out of wedlock? Adopted out and hence the change in name? Or could one have truly married a lesser halfblood or Merlin forbid, a muggle. Perhaps it was another self-proclaimed title, the Riddle of his heritage.

“Regulus?” Dumbledore prompted, snapping him out of his musings.

“The Dark Lord wanted a House Elf for some important task. I knew it was important because he had only asked from trusted families. I was probably the least trustworthy there because Sirius had run away only a few years beforehand. No one else was so close to a blood traitor by blood and time. I figured I had more to prove and so volunteered Kreacher.” The words seemed strangely ordered in his head as he went through the memory. He felt like that seventeen-year-old boy facing the growing realisation that the man he had dedicated his life to was corrupt and evil. Even worse, that he had destroyed his own being in his belief for this glorious future. The chilling reality of what he was going to do.

Dumbledore said nothing.

“I told Kreacher to obey the Dark Lord and once his mission was done, to come home. Back to me. He did. Half dead, trembling, torn and sick. I tended to him and when he was well enough, asked of what had happened. I surmised the Dark Lord was hiding something of great importance. I wanted to tell everyone of this slight that he had committed against our family. To damage the property of a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight! I knew he was no longer worthy of leading our cause. But if he had gone to such lengths to protect this… then it would be blind folly to leap in with accusations. It had tugged at me, on a memory. The Dark Lord always boasted about his immortality, that he had defeated Death. I threw myself into studies and realised the two were connected. It was truly abhorrent, and I knew I had to bring him down. What was more, I wanted him to know that it was I that had destroyed his immortality. But I did not want to face his torture. I’ve seen it, I’ve dealt it. I would not suffer it.”

“So, you died retrieving the Horcrux.” Dumbledore finished kindly.

Regulus nodded.

“I assume you’ve been unable to destroy it?”

Regulus stared at the book. Kreacher had spent fifteen years trying. He had not done as much himself, but as his sanity and sense of self returned, he had studied as best he could.

“I could destroy it, if you would like.” Dumbledore offered.

“No. Me.” Regulus snarled, baring his teeth, eyes flashing. Any attempt to return to himself was lost in the sudden surge of emotion that came about from the threat of someone else completing his life’s work. Dumbledore raised a hand.

“Of course, it is only natural that you should want to see this through. I can arrange for a basilisk fang to be brought with me on my next visit.”

“Others?”

“Pardon?”

Regulus frowned and focused on putting thoughts into his head, rather than instincts. He took a slow breath.

“What about the other Horcruxes?”

“You should focus on recovering.”

“No. I’m going to finish what I set out to do.” Regulus growled, low in his chest.

“Perhaps when you are yourself, Regulus.” Dumbledore said. “You’ve been through a lot and it would be unfair to ask more of you.”

“You’re not asking.” His voice was cold.

“I noticed how focused you became on the diary. You could sense it.”

Regulus stilled.

“May I ask, are you currently looking after the horcrux you retrieved until you can destroy it or are you guarding it?”

“Looking after. Will destroy.”

That was a driving force. He had died to make sure it was destroyed and he would do it in this life. But there was something…. Protective. He had felt it for the book. He felt it for the locket.

“You’ve had dark magic cast on you, Regulus. That takes a while to recover from. There is no shame in it.”

“Will destroy it. And every single Horcrux.” He had to cling to that. It was all that he had left.

“Rest, Regulus.” Dumbledore said, more firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You aren’t fighting this war alone.”

“I have to end it. Have to.” He whispered, staring down at the book. It was the only way to survive.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Merlin knew why he was doing this. He could just as well steal Harry from here – Regulus and Dumbledore be damned.  Petunia – she was clearly Lily’s sister – placed her cup carefully down on the saucer, watching him with unashamed judgement. Her husband, Vernon, had more fear in his eyes. Their child was nowhere to be seen. Harry sat awkwardly next to them, staring into his cup of tea to hide the grin on his face.

Sirius took a sip of the tea. It was a decent blend, he could tell that. They’d probably spent more on being the tea than they’d ever spent on Harry, at least in one go. The muggle clothes he wore looked second hand. He didn’t have any accessories that Sirius might have otherwise expected on a young wizard.

“So… will you be taking him?” Petunia asked hesitantly. Sirius pressed his lips together.

“Eventually. Getting custardy is not as easy as I had hoped.”

“But you’re innocent!” Harry protested, his face crumpling although he did his best to hide it.

“I know, but Petunia is your aunt and there are questions about my suitability considering the fact that I did go to prison. Not to mention my brother his going through a rough patch.”

“You have a brother?” Harry asked.

“Uh, he’s called Regulus. I don’t suppose you were really around for that. But remember Dumbledore managed to stop me getting… yeah… and sent off to Saint Mungo’s to examine my head… well turns out I kind of have the information as to where my little brother was. He’d been missing for fifteen years and was kind of in a bad shape for a while. He’d got in with the wrong crowd and now I’m looking after him until he’s more... well, adapted for lack of a better word.” Sirius said, not sure how much he could say. They were trying to keep Regulus story under wraps until they knew more about it and just how safe it was to let it be known.

“We would only be too happy to give you Harry.” Vernon said. “No questions asked. The paperwork can be sorted out later.”

“I don’t mind that you’ve got a brother. I’m sure it’ll be fine. He can’t be worse than Voldemort.” Harry said, enthusiasm in his every being. Merlin, Sirius wanted to bring Harry home. Maybe he could keep Regulus confined to his new room until he was safe.

Sirius took a slow breath. No. Remember his brother’s face. The fear Regulus had of becoming a creature of Voldemort. The look of pure adoration (and surprise) that his brother had whenever Sirius did something just for the pure joy of making Regulus happy.

“He’s not very well. I think it’s best to wait, Harry.” Sirius said, placing a hand on his tiny shoulders. Harry shouldn’t be this skinny. A knife to his heart.

“Perhaps he just needs more company.” Vernon pressed.

“Look, can I talk to Harry about this?” Sirius snapped. “You aren’t making this any easier for either of us.”

“We want him gone.”

“Well, I want to take him with me!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Sirius clenched his fists and threw himself into the back of the overly flowery chair.

“Look, my brother is not well. It’s nothing infectious but he’s not well enough to deal with guests. Not to mention I’ve got Dumbledore insisting that I’m not capable of taking care of Harry which is nonsense but for some unknown reason, he really seems to favour you. Do you know why, considering you’re such awful muggles?”

“I… I was told I owed my sister.” Petunia sniffed, looking as haughty as certain members of Sirius’ family. “That Harry has to continue having a place in my home.”

She cast a nervous glance towards Vernon and Sirius tapped his fingers against his thigh. There was something more going on and he would have to get down to it.

“Look, I can’t move Harry in this summer but I can probably take him for the Christmas holidays – or some of it depending on Reg. Now I’m hopeful that everything will be sorted by next summer. That doesn’t seem too difficult for you, since you only see Harry during the summer holidays.” Sirius said, crossing his arms.

“And remember, Ron said I can stay the last week of the holidays with his family for the Quid- for the gaming event.” Harry said.

Sirius frowned at the amendment.

“Of course, I expect for the duration that Harry has to stay here, you’ll not require him to hide who he is. I hope you know that Harry is quite the Quidditch player – youngest on the team in a century. You should be very proud and embracing him.”

“We will not tolerate-”

“Because I know some quite beautiful spells that are quite untraceable, if I hear that Harry is being ill-treated. And I will certainly be paying more visits if I don’t regularly hear from Harry, so you better make sure he continues to be allowed to let his owl deliver them.”

Sirius was rewarded with a rather spectacular look of fear that went over the Dursleys. Harry was grinning ear to ear.

“Now, I don’t believe for one second that you don’t have enough money to look after Harry, so I expect him to be more well fed. I will, however, be the one to take Harry shopping for clothes. I’m generous like that.” He said. It was not at all an excuse to see more of the muggle world with someone who actually knew something about it…

“Who do you think you are, coming in here and telling me how to run my house?” Vernon asked, whiskers shaking in outrage. Sirius leaned back.

“Well, I’m Sirius Black. Excellent wizard, if I do say so myself, Godfather to Harry and general all round better-than-you guy.”

Sirius knew he’d already won. They had no magic, they didn’t know how illegal it was to use magic on muggles – no matter how deserving. All they could do was bluster in the hope that some form of social contract would restrain his hand.

“You will take him, next summer?” Petunia asked, her voice tight.

“As soon as I can get permission, I’m taking him. And if it comes to it, I’m certain I can steal him without attracting any attention.” Sirius said, giving a wink to Harry who smiled.

The rest of the day went rather well. He got to talk to Harry more and find out about his interests. It was nice to have Harry more as a person rather than a copy of James. He didn’t have any pictures of Harry as a baby but he had memories and that seemed to mean a lot to the kid. It was difficult though, as Sirius could tell that Harry wanted to get out of here and was being so kindly and understanding. It was a sharp contrast to Regulus and his stubborn hatred. He left with the promise of coming back within the week to go shopping with Harry and back to the greyness that was Grimmauld Place.

[ambertea]

the photograph

Ten struggles to move past Rose after Doomsday. (Hurt, no comfort.)

(Read on AO3)

The TARDIS door swung shut, and his head weighed heavily against the wood.

The past week had been a blur of activity. Searching for something he knew was impossible – a way to crack through to a parallel universe without destroying two worlds at once. When he had finally given up on that, he’d spent his time in a desperate rush to try and talk to her, at the very least, to give her the goodbye he’d denied so many others.

After that had come Donna and the Racnoss, and he had been almost relieved to have a reason to push her out of his head. He hadn’t had to face the burning sickness in his gut, or the deep, heavy longing weighing down on him like a boulder.

Now—finally—it was time to grieve. But he couldn’t.

Seeing her crying in front of him so openly – hearing her I love you – and being unable to return either had been an all-consuming pain, a slap to the face, a kick to the gut. Somewhere along the way, though, the feeling had simmered, leaving him with only all-consuming exhaustion.

After Gallifrey had gone, something precious had been ripped from his brain. It was like losing his hearing – or perhaps more than that, as though his ears still worked but the rest of the world had grown utterly silent. Now, aching as he did, he thought he might have a matching wound across his chest.

Sighing, he turned and walked up the ramp, flicking some buttons on the console panel. The TARDIS was unnaturally still, her own grief gentle but devastating. He looked around and paused.

What was he supposed to do now?

For lifetimes, he had spent the time in between adventures in the library, blonde hair tickling his nose. He could just keep going – look for another planet, another time – but something about that felt disrespectful. He owed her his pain, at least. Really, he’d never given her anything else.

Purple was blurring in the corner of his eyes, and he groaned and stared towards it. Her shirt. Wandering over, he held it gently in his hand and tried not to think of the last time he’d seen her in it.

“What do you think?” She asked, spinning into the room. He froze.

She still had on the same shirt as yesterday, held tightly by a dungaree dress. Long boots slithered up to her knees, clinging to her ankles and exaggerating the length of her legs. Three buttons – one more than Cassandra! – had been pulled apart across her chest, cleavage peaking over the denim. If she so much as very slightly leaned forwards, he may well have an aneurysm.

“Bit…blue.”

She frowned, looking down at herself. “It’s my favourite colour.”

“Favourite colour? Humans are ridiculous.”

She laughed and then quickly ran away, her boots thundering across the grating. His hearts calmed down, just a little, but then she was back, her massive red rucksack clutched in her arms.

“You help me choose, then.” She said, unzipping the bag and rummaging through. He leaned back on the console and snorted.

“Rose. I am a 900-year-old Time Lord. I am not here to help you with your fashion.”

“Alright, so I’ll just stick with what I’m wearing.”

He gulped.

“S’pose I can help. If you really want.”

She rolled her eyes and threw a few tops across the floor, and he stepped closer to inspect them properly. The majority of them he had seen before, each one a different memory of a time he’d been left tongue-tied.

“What’s that one?” He asked, pointing towards a magenta top he had never seen before. She held it up to herself and frowned down, eying the crown painted over the chest. He nodded approvingly, positive that this, at least, would cover…. everything that needed covering.

“I think mum got it for me at Primark…” she looked at it doubtfully. “You like it?”

“Love it. Now hurry up, we’ve got places to be.”

She giggled, her fingers fiddling with the top of dungarees until the buttons popped open.

“What are you doing?” He choked.

She grinned. “Changing my top.”

He nodded quickly, his hand brushing through and then gripping at his hair.

“Yep, right, course. I’ll just, uh—” he spun away from her teasing smile.

His eyes fixed upon the TARDIS wall, and he tried his very best not to think about her with her top off.

“Alright, safe now.”

He turned back and groaned internally. How did she do this?

Bounding up the console, he flipped some buttons and switches at random, looking down at them mindlessly.

“What do you think of this? Will it do?”

Absolutely not.

“In the late 1970s? You'd be better off in a bin bag…”

He was standing outside her room.

The top was clutched in his hands, his arm tight and tense. It couldn’t stay in the console room forever. He may as well hang a banner over the struts, paint big black words declaring that she was gone. It had to be hidden away, along with the rest of her, and then could close the door on the happiest chapter of his life for good.

But first, he needed to open the door. Which was proving difficult.

His hand reached forward and hovered in the air. The doorknob glared out at him, shiny and menacing. He had faced down Daleks, Cybermen—the Devil himself. He could do this. With a grunt, he pushed the door open.

His legs stepped forwards as if separate from his brain – kicking away the clothes scattered across the floor. Rose’s room had always been an absolute state, but homely in a way no other room in the TARDIS had ever managed. Her life was scattered across the photographs hanging on the walls, precious ornaments she had collected strewn carelessly across her desk.

His shoulders tensed and then slumped. He could feel her.

She was here in this room, her presence dawdling in a way he had never fully understood or believed in. Her spirit lingered over her dirty makeup brushes, raced through her stack of grimy teacups, settled along her unmade bed. She may as well have been standing in this very room, just out of his eye line.

Trembling, he collapsed onto her covers and bowed his head in silent prayer.

He yearned for his earlier dullness. Whatever this was—this swirling vortex of misery and self-loathing—was clutching at his lungs, squeezing at his throat. Tears dripped down onto the duvet, and he wiped them away, sniffing.

A gleam of light dazzled in the corner of his eye, and he turned towards her bedside table. A metal-framed photograph of the two of them. He reached out, cradling it in his hands, and gazed down at their flushed, happy faces.

“Rose, we can’t take a selfie in the 50s.”

She pouted, juggling her phone between her hands. “They won’t even know what we’re doing!”

“Humans have been taking selfies since they were barely more than apes.”

“But not on a phone!” She exclaimed. “They’ll just think we’re…leaning close.”

He snorted. “That’s scandalous enough.”

Rolling her eyes, she put her phone back in her jacket pocket. He leaned against the wall and watched the street, trying to keep his face fixed in a pleasant smile.

The image of her, faceless, was still vivid in his brain. To see her without her usual vibrant expressions had been harrowing, like losing her whilst she stood right in front of him. For a second, he didn’t think he would ever smile again.

“You alright?” She said, shoving into his shoulder with a bit too much force. Her heels toppled, and she began to fall, and he quickly grabbed her before her face collided with the pavement.

“Those things,” he accused, pointing at her shoes “are dangerous.”

“And a bit painful.” She grimaced. “Pretty though, don’t you think?”

In truth, he’d barely glanced over her shoes, but nodded all the same. He still couldn’t get over her looking like this—it reminded him of the first time he’d seen her dressed up, a lifetime ago. He had been awed then, and he was awed now.

“Not great for running, though.”

“Nah, but we’re done for the day, aren’t we? We saved the day and all that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “We saved the day, did we?”

“I was definitely an important part of it.”

He hummed, crossing his arms. “Seemed to me like you were just standing about.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t do everything, can I? Spotted the TV thing before you. Anyway, we’re a team. We do things together.”

“So did we save the day when we met, then?”

“Oh, no,” she laughed. “That was definitely me.”

He drank in her joy thirstily, letting her calm strength wash over him until he felt a bit lighter. The tables were being cleared away, and a few merry couples had taken to slow dancing across the road. He glanced at Rose and saw her eying them wistfully.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I guess we can take that selfie.”

She squealed, her phone instantly out of her pocket, and wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him closer. Her cheek was pressed up against his, soft and warm. He grabbed her waist and pulled her tight against himself, grinning along right with her.

She looked down happily at her phone, angling it so he could peer along with her. He looked absolutely besotted. But then, so did she.

“Would you do me the honour, Dame Rose,” he asked, bowing towards her and offering his hand “of this dance?”

“Sir Doctor, I believe I will.”

He hadn’t intended to return. The first time had been an allowable weakness, a natural stage of the grieving process. Going back felt wrong somehow, even inappropriate. He had never shared her room during her time with him, so what right did he have to it now?

But there was another woman on the ship, and if there was anything Rose had taken issue to, it was that. Especially with the way Martha had looked at him—no, that wouldn’t have pleased her at all.

He poked his head around the door, feeling oddly like he was intruding on the empty room. Stalking over to the bed, he picked up the photo of her on her bedside table. His fingers traced over the lines of his face, trying to call back the feeling of her skin.

He desperately wanted to know how she was doing, where she has. One part of him hoped she would forget him altogether—a bigger part begged her not to.

“I got a new suit.” He told her, nodding down to himself. “Blue.”

A knock rapped upon the door and he shot up, dropping the photograph. He cracked the door open slightly to see Martha looking at him curiously.

“Sorry—just wondering where the kitchen is?”

“There,” he nodded behind her, quickly instructing the TARDIS to shuffle the rooms. “Goodnight.”

“Is this your room?” She asked, and he ignored her, shutting the door behind him.

He hurried back over to the bed, inspecting the frame for any damage, but it was unharmed. Sighing in relief, he put it back carefully, and laid down, staring at it.

“It’s okay. It’s just one trip.” He whispered to her, feeling a bit silly but needing to say it all the same. “And I told her your name, just like you wanted to me to.”

She smiled back, frozen and wordless.

“Mickey all settled in?”

She collapsed onto the sofa and sighed, her eyes inspecting his face. He steeled himself. He had been waiting for this – for her to explode over Sarah-Jane and Mickey and his harsh words outside of the chip shop. It was why he had hidden away in the library, behind dense shelves of books. But as always, Rose had found him as if by instinct.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re--what?” he spluttered.

She kept her eyes on the carpet, hands twisting anxiously around in her lap.

“I shouldn’t have said—what I said, earlier. I was just being stupid.”

“Not stupid.”

“Okay, naïve, then. I just thought me and you were…” she glanced up, eying him carefully. “I don’t know, special.”

“Special.” He echoed, letting it bounce around his brain.

“And it just made me panic. And think about what happens when I die.”

“Well, that’s a way off yet.”

“Yeah, but it’s just like—who’s going to remember me?”

He frowned. “What?”

“I don’t really have friends on Earth anymore.” She said, turning to him and keeping her voice quiet. “There’s not even any records of my life from the past few years. I’ve got mum, but after that—” she fidgeted, casting her eyes down at her hands “I dunno. My whole life might as well have not happened. No one will remember it.”

“I didn’t forget Sarah-Jane.”

“You might as well have. How often do you think about her? Really?”

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward.

“And now you’ve invited Mickey, which is fine—” she paused, taking a deep breath. “But it feels like even your memories of me aren’t going to be just me now. You’re going to look back and remember Rose-and-Mickey.”

“Instead of just you.” He said slowly.

“Well, yeah. And I know it’s selfish—”

“Not selfish.”

“—self-centered, then. But I kinda hoped you’d remember me.”

She fell back, as though winded from her own words, and he looked at her thoughtfully. Rose’s mortality was a subject he rarely allowed himself to consider, but when he did, he was usually focused on its effect on him. He had always assumed she was too young to think about it with any real unease. He offered out his arm and she quickly snuggled into him, face buried in his suit.

“When you…go,” he said slowly, the words painful on his tongue. “I’ll tell people. Promise. The whole universe will get sick of hearing about you.”

She snorted gently into his chest.

“I’ll write books, even. Poetry. Make some art.”

“More art,” her muffled voice reminded him, and he smiled.

“Some more art. A whole museum full of Rose.”

He pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around her back, and kissed the top of her head.

“I’ll remember you. How could I ever forget?”

“They’re back,” he said as he walked through the door. “They survived.”

He undressed quickly, his clothes piling on top of hers. He bounced onto the bed, gazing at her, lying on his front.

“Cult of Skaro.” He told her, brushing dust from the bedstand. “Dalek Sec turned human. Just like the Dalek you touched,” he sighed, looking down. “I tried to save him. I knew you’d want me to.”

Rose looked back at him.

“No, I’m all right. Well—” he hesitated. “A bit angry, maybe. Four of them managed to stick together. Why couldn’t we?”

He rolled over; eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I know. We got rid of millions of them. Stopped them killing everyone, that made it worth it.” His eyes twitched over to her, and then quickly away. “I guess.”

“I don’t think you have Daleks, over in that universe. Shouldn’t do, anyway, although really who knows where they manage to get to? But even if there is one over there, you should be able to sort them out. Right in the eyestalk, remember? Only weakness.

“Although knowing you, you’d have them charmed before it got to that. Offered them tea or something. Given it a hug. God, Rose—I hope you’re being careful over there. Joining Torchwood is great, but risking your life is less fun when it’s just you. You probably know that by now, you trouble magnet. But I couldn’t bare if it if–” he paused, aching. “Although, I suppose I wouldn’t know anyway.”

He pulled the pink covers up to his face, brushing them against his cheek. They smelt less of Rose now, after a week of his visits—he thought the TARDIS had probably washed them at some point, although he’d specifically asked her not to. Still, they were a comfort.

“When I first saw them,” he breathed. “I thought they’d come from the void. And I was horrified, of course. But not entirely. I thought, maybe—” he buried himself deeper in the covers, “but I guess not.”

“How did it feel?” She asked, her hand clutching his tightly. “Being a picture?”

“Sketchy.”

She looked at him sternly, ignoring his wide grin. He pulled her towards the cake table, but she tugged him back, her fingers digging slightly into his wrist.

“I’m serious.”

He gazed at her, wondering whether she truly wanted the answer. No, probably not. But her eyes were pleading with him, and she had just saved the day. Her wish, as always, was his command.

“Flat—no, I’m serious,” he said quickly, halting her open mouth. “Couldn’t really move. Couldn’t feel the TARDIS. Just stood there and…existed. It was terrible.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, and she tugged him a little closer.

“Those kids—”

“—are not okay, no matter how well they look now. It was like being trapped in my own brain. It was hard to work out what was real and what wasn’t. Even now—”

He stopped himself quickly, biting at the inside of his lips. She placed her hands loosely around his neck and kissed him gently on the cheek.

“Feels real to me.”

He laughed. “Can’t taste pencil?”

“Well,” she said, pulling him closer still. “Let me double check.”

“Rose,” he breathed, stumbling through the door. “Rose—Rose—”

He staggered across the room, arms out and craving for her.

“Rose—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He had left her. Again. A whole year under the Master’s brutal torture, but the worst pain of all had been staying away from her for so long. He clutched at her, his eyes devouring her face, the cold metal cutting into his skin.

“I couldn’t—I didn’t believe it—he was alive, Rose, and he was—” he struggled through his shallow breaths, trying desperately to articulate, to make her understand that he hadn’t chosen to stay away. “Rose, I was trapped. I spent every second thinking of you.”

She was looking at him, unmoved by his rambling pleas. He pressed his head against her, eyes squeezed shut, begging for her to understand.

“I wouldn’t leave you on purpose, you know I wouldn’t—I couldn’t—”

His eyes were streaming, but it felt so good to hold her close to him again. She was angry, she always was when they were separated, but she was here, and it was slowly relaxing him.

“I wasn’t the last. He was just hidden. I never thought—I was so alone,” he paused, smiling down at her. “Yes, I know. Apart from you, I meant. Does that even need saying?”

He ran his hand down his face. “No, I’ll be okay. I just needed to spend some time with you.”

He hugged her tighly, burying his face into her shoulder.

“How long did you wait?”

“5 and a half hours.” She gasped out, and he grimaced.

She was giddy with joy, and he realised suddenly just how frightened she must have been. What had he expected her to do, stuck on this space station? Wander around and hope one day he’d turn up?

“I’m sorry.” He said, pulling away. She looked down, but he pressed a finger against her chin, forcing it upwards. “Really.”

“It’s fine.”

He shook his head and stepped a little closer.

“I should’ve never left you. I never will again.”

He kissed her sweetly, and she stayed utterly still for a second before kissing him back enthusiastically.

They pulled apart and beamed at each other, their hands naturally gravitating together.

“We never did this,” she said, settling her head on his shoulder.

“What?”

“This,” she said, nodding at their clasped hands. “Us.”

He brushed the hair away from her eyes and then traced his fingertips over her lips. He had always loved these lips, loved the look, the touch—

“You never kissed me.”

He pulled his hand back and stared at her, confused. She shuffled out of his embrace, her sympathetic gaze grating at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. He had always been physically affectionate to her, every light touch a happy expression of love.

“You never told me that, either. Not once.”

He shifted in his chair, looking away.

“Why are you saying this?”

“Because I’m not sure you know.”

Martha left, and he thought maybe it was for the best. He had honestly liked Martha, found her intelligent and self-confident. But he knew she made Rose feel insecure, which was the last thing he wanted.

He spent his days curling up in her bed, chatting through their memories and finding joy in her smile. The universe had taken enough of his life. From now on, he would spend it with her.

“Doctor,” Rose said, settling heavily on the bed, “I’m worried.”

“About what?” He asked quickly, scooting up to her and taking her hand. She looked down at it with a frown.

“You’ve not eaten in a week. Not slept in months.”

He smiled. She was adorable. “You’re worried about me?”

She groaned, laying back. He mirrored her, studying her face.

“When was the last time you left the TARDIS?” She asked, and he frowned.

He’d forgotten he was on the TARDIS. He saw so little of it now.

“Are you getting restless? Because we don’t have to stay here. Maybe the library? You’ve always loved it.”

Her head towards him, and he was confused by the intensity he saw in his eyes. Maybe she was growing tired of his presence, sick of his constant rambles. He reached for his hair, nervous, and was surprised to find it down to his shoulders.

She reached towards him, and he stole her into his arms, trying to rub some warmth into her cold body.

“What about past the library?”

He frowned. “The console room?”

She groaned and rolled into his chest. He rubbed her back, trying to comfort her.

“What about the garden? We could plant strawberries for the summertime. Strawberries and ice cream for lunch, every day. Like a children’s book.”

“Why don’t you go outside, to plant strawberries?”

He pushed her away from him, bewildered, staring up at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Outside?”

“Grass. Sky. Stars.”

He let her fall beside him and stood up, angry.

“We can’t go outside. You know that.”

He glared at the wall opposite, his hands curling into fists. She brought this up so often these days, a constant argument that he never seemed to fully win.

“You need to,” she whispered behind him. “You need to go outside.”

He spun around. “I need to? By myself?”

She was very still on the bed, her eyes staring upwards blankly.

“Yes. God, Doctor, this isn’t you. When have you ever stayed still this long?”

He frowned at her. “But—we’re happy. Me and you, in the TARDIS. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

She gazed up at him, looking pained. “Do you really think I would have wanted this?”

“Of course!” He shouted. “This is exactly what you wanted. Just me and you, no one else. Domestics. Love. All of that.”

“Love?” She whispered. “Is this love?”

He staggered back. He had always loved her, never faltering and never hesitating.

“What else could this be,” He asked, feeling tears rage in his eyes “but love?”

“Pain.” She whispered.

He fell back against the wall, sliding down until he was draped on top of the carpet.

“Pain?” He echoed, feeling an ache against his chest. “I pain you?”

“No,” she said from the bed. “No, never. But what about you?”

“Me?”

“How do you feel?”

He paused and took stock. Quite hungry, actually – and tired, which was unusual.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

She stayed motionless, and he stood up slowly, shaking the sudden fatigue from his limbs. She gazed up at him sadly.

“You need to move on. Get past me. Find someone else.”

“Someone else?”

He paced up and down the room, treading on both of their clothes.

“Snap out of it.”

He froze and turned slowly.

“Rose,” he muttered, “don’t.”

“I love you, Doctor.”

He stumbled slightly, exhaustion overtaking him. He sat down on the bed and froze. Slowly, he stood up and turned.

Her face was shattered across the bed.

“Rose,” he gasped out, his hearts racing. “No.”

“I love you,” she cried. He knew this—had always known this—but even now, saying his goodbyes, a flood of joy coursed through his blood.

He reached out to her and pulled her lips towards his. Her hands immediately went to the top of his head, grabbing at his head, moulding his body on hers. He clung to her back desperately, cursing their bodies for stopping them from moving even closer.

She pulled back, gasping for breath. He ran his tongue around his lips, tasting makeup and saltwater.

“I love you too.” He whispered into her ear.

He was on the floor, shards of glass scattered across his body. He brushed them off, slowly sitting up.

“Rose?”

The room was silent.

[kineticallyanywhere]

I'd love to hear those fusion thots :eyes: the pacific rim ones were V good

If you’ve been around this house for a hot minute you might know that fusion aus are My Entire Jam Garden so you might imagine I’ve already put some thought into this and you would imagine right. The following was brainstormed in consort with @aryashi my second brain. 

The basis for this au is that fusion is possible in the forgotten realms and is just a thing people there can do. This also applies to sudden interdimensional travelers. 

tl;dr I wrote basically a one-shot’s worth of words down there but in short fusion is rad but also there's an unexpected amount of drama. which is basically a summary of the podcast but replace "fusion" with "fatherhood"

(preface: fusion is not a sex metaphor, just like pacific rim. Platonic fusion is normal. Familial fusion is normal. Okay, continue.) 

First inter-dad fusion: “I silence his dumb ass with a kiss” except its “I silence his dumb ass by accidentally fusing our bodies and consiousnesses into a single being w h o o p s” 

I like to name fusions as something other than their romantic ship name so let’s call him… o h yeah we named all of Henry’s fusions after animals. So this guy is Hare (like Darryl). Hare is pretty stable from the outside, but their internal dialogues clash really hard so they're incredibly slow to make decisions. 

Internally, Henry feels like he's crossed Darryls boundaries. They have to hold it, but he lets Darryl take the wheel and all similar mistakes are made. They make it through the thing with the Lance before unfusing. Darryl has no idea what that was and already has a lot of intimacy issues, so he’s not particularly inclined to try that again for funsies. Henry is curious, but there’s a buried part of him that’s making him deeply unsettled by the whole experience. He can barely have a straight thought about it, much less articulate the feeling, so he doesn’t try. He lets it go. 

First sons fusion: When the Lord of Chaos throws back his robe, yelling “Dad! !” it’s a GIANT Lark&Sparrow. They’re like trying to fuse two rubies together, you just get a bigger ruby. This changes a bit later, when the twins start to diverge from each other vis a vis Love Wolfism, but basically the Lord of Chaos is an Oak Twin the size of their dad. But still looks 12. It probably actually takes the Love Wolf speech from Henry and their divergent reactions to get them to unfuse. 

Second inter-dad fusion: That other time Henry and Darryl smooched while high on drug flowers. It was very unpleasant, they don’t talk about it, they don’t try that again for a while. 

They get a book on fusions from the Library that reads almost like a birds and the bees talk and there is minor culture-shock panicking about whether fusion is Like That, but something in Henry is telling him “No. It’s not Like That.” He doesn’t really know why he’s so solid in that belief. He understands that fusion is unique and powerful and a wonderful thing, but something about doing it is just… getting under his skin. 

Third inter-dad fusion: Glenn and Ron. I’m not even sure the exact context or anything. Maybe they were just vibin’. All I really know is that I imagine these two occasionally fuse for the weirdest things, like

Fourth inter-dad fusion: also Glon, fishing magic items out of a giant toilet. They needed to be taller. 

Glon is… gosh, what the heck is Glon. Performative out the ass, for sure. Down for basically anything. Allowed to wear bootie shorts. 

Back up a hot minute though, because first dad-son fusion: almost happens on the Tower of Terry. It comes so close. They’re in that hug, and Ron thinks maybe if they fuse, the magic won’t take TJ. Or even if it takes them both, that’s better than TJ getting taken alone. They don’t have to say “I’m sorry” or “I love you, son” out loud, but before it really takes, Terry gets ripped away. Because Willy can’t have that, can he? 

Fifth inter-dad fusion: is Glon again, but the circumstances are way different because Ron just saw the mummy of his wife and Glenn is trying to help him breeze past it and it works until it doesn’t and they fall apart with Ron a crying mess. 

Sixth inter-dad fusion buckle up because we’ve reached Ravenloft. Before dad-fusion 6, Henry gets caught in his dad’s claws. He feels something very familiar and rejects it with everything he has, and escapes to grab Glenn. Then he gets hit by Calm Emotions, Glenn reaches up, trying not to fall, and Henry is already super chill about everything all of a sudden, so when Glenn tries to fuse out of panic, Henry goes for it. 

Gila—Henry and Glenn—can do actual bard magic. They’re like Opal, in that a single moment of disconnect is enough to snap them apart and finding that disconnect is not difficult. But when the situation is saving their kids and telling their asshole dads to get lost, that’s plenty enough connection to cast an actual magic-ass thunderwave with a guitar and maybe a bit more. 

(Barry didn’t like that.) 

So another fun thing about adding this factor to cannon is that this lets the dads have glimpses inside each other’s heads. So certain conversations could change a little bit. For example, in the van while they’re driving away from the Ravenloft fight and Henry’s explaining a few things. 

Henry: I don't have a lot of memories from that time in my life—  Glenn: Not a lot? Try "not any.” Henry: Glenn—  Glenn: Dude, none of my business, but your brain was weird.  Henry: Glenn.  Glenn: Like did the government get to you when you showed up on earth or—   Henry: Glenn what the fff—rick are you even saying just shut up Darryl: …

Darryl had noticed, too, but Glenn has other fusion experience to compare with. Henry could catch glimpses and imprints and trains of thought which ground in different points of Darryl/Glenn’s entire life, and Glenn and Ron can do that equally with each other. But a bunch of things for Henry, if you try to backtrack to where the decision comes from it just. Stops. Especially with using magic, which Glenn got to do. And Henry’s thoughts on fusion end dead hard. 

(filtering all of this through Freddie’s headcanon that Glenn always figured Henry was from Faerun but was just wildly wrong about all the details is so much fun)

This is the part in the fic series where there’s a one-shot about Henry having a panic attack just outside of the camp at night, and the most he can explain is just that something about seeing his dad again set him off. 

And then we get to a lighter turn for first dad-son fusion but for realsies this time: Ron Stampler nat 20s to hug his son and then also is the son. And that dad. And dads are supposed to be inside to do a ritual for a demon cow. 

RJ is the sweetest dude. Also if you don’t sit on him he will wander off and do the most extreme version of the first thing that comes to his mind for a problem solution or release from boredom. And he will not tell you about it in advance, so seriously. Sit on him. 

So they stand there for a second like "yes... Yes. Yes... Okay. Im... I'm the dad. But I'm the kid? But im. The dad. And all the other dads are also the kid so... Dad... Trumps kid status. And I'm the dad... Cool." and they go in to help with the demon cow. 

The kids are flipping out outside. 

Henry spots them and drops the cage, almost like he’s Garnet and just spotted Stevonnie. While all the other dad’s are freaking out/fawning/curious, Glenn lifts their glasses and theres four eyes and he drops the glasses and never mentions this again. 

Rj: hi um. I'm a dad.... Yeah. So I'm here tooooooo frickin kill a demon cow let's do this Rj: got the good dad vibes comin out of my butt

For realsies though Terry should be outside, so they unfuse for the cow thing and the bbq but then Dennis happens. 

Second dad-son fusion: Dennis: are you sure you've got this?  Ron: i can do it  TJ: he can DO it dad GIVE ME YOUR HAND

RJ’s an arcane trickster and it’s real cool and Dennis looks so jealous ha ha ha and also they separate after the fight and suddenly Terry’s unsettled and needs to talk to Ron for a second because “Hey Dad is Dennis not real????????” 

Third dad-son fusion: is way less eventful, but who the heck can say no to more reasons to cry about the Wilsons at the tail end of the Supper Bowl arc? 

Fusion is not a replacement for talking, but it is a bit smoother in communicating emotions. It doesn’t happen until the end of their talk, when Darryl’s got his arm around Grant. I don’t think either of them are super attached to this whole fusion thing, (If Grant is, it certainly wasn’t his dad he’d been thinking about trying it with. Maybe one of the other kids… “maybe Terry.”) so they may not even pick a name. Henry certainly cries at least twice as hard, but when they want to just get something to eat and maybe just hang out for a while, nobody pushes. 

I think the most important part of this is that it gives Grant a kind of… emotional break. Lets him feel something nice again— like he does in the show, too, but in a way that’s a bit more stable while it lasts. Like the feeling when you’re a kid on a long car ride with your parents, one that ends in getting home late and you’ve fallen asleep and they carry you out of the car. 

Good things for Grant Wilson for til forever. 

Somewhere in that arc, though, Glenn approaches Henry by themselves. Glenn’s not really a feelings guy, but whatever’s going on in Henry’s head is a problem. It’s a one-up the o-dads have on them, and they can’t afford that right now. 

Glenn: so you like... Really don't hardly remember being a kid?  Henry: Glenn, I don't want to talk about it  Glenn: I bet your dad's gonna wanna talk about it  Henry: well... i don't care what he wants  Glenn:... You seriously don't know how you got to earth?  Henry: [exasperated] the frick are you-- I got to earth like anyone else, Glenn. You know where babies come from, right?  Glenn: of course i fucking know where babies come from. A mommy and a daddy love each other very much and then their kid runs away so hard he skips dimensions  Henry: wh-- wait you-- do you think I'm an alien?  Glenn: obviously  Henry: Glenn that's-- [sighs, rubs his face] Glenn this isn't the kind of time for your conspiracies  Glenn: hey as far as I'm concerned, a man who sleeps with an axe under his pillow is a fool every night but one. and you shoot poison from your hands and shape shift into bears

Which adds nicely to the slide of heading to Oakveil next

Henry: y'know what. When we leave here, we can get my kids next.  Glenn: your interdimensional kids  Henry: to prove to you you're being crazy. Again.  Glenn: De Nial is a river man, and we left it back on earth

And one more dialogue bite, because…

Glenn: claim your powers latched onto you from this world all you want. But that language you and your dad spoke, didn't come out of the air, it came out of the door in your head

...fusion means the other dads get to learn about the metaphorical brain door. 

This brings us into the most recent arc, heading into Oakveil. He and Ron sneak in, and Beary tells Henry he’s home, and pieces start to click together. Henry’s from this world, so he understands why he’s had such a particular view on fusion and that basic cultural understanding. That it’s considered normal. And that it’s even normal for a kid’s first fusion to be with their parent. Their parent who loves them and knows them wants to see them grow. 

Bear Ry’Oak is not that. 

First O-dad fusion: Henry’s first fusion was with his dad. 

I think the worst thing is that, when fused with his dad, Hen doesn't feel like he's not himself. one of the interesting things about the Oaks is that they're kind of all slight alterations on the same traits. Like as gross as it feels to admit, Beary is just Henry but with the condescension turned up to a billion and his high horse is basically an elephant and no self-awareness or care for how others might have different perspectives from him

But Beary is still so overwhelming to Henry that it just flattens pretty much anything that makes Henry, Henry. Specifically the parts that Barry dislikes. like Henry's anger. To directly quote Aryashi: “Beary thinks using fusion for combat is barbaric. obviously fusion is for Conflict Resolution. Fuse with Beary so he can sort out your disagreement with him!”

(and then bathe in bleach)

So Beary finds them in Oakveil and Henry starts panicking and he tries to Handle Henry like he did when Henry was a kid, fusing with him to stomp down on his feelings to cut a panic attack or outburst off at the pass. If Henry's in no place to fight back it usually works, but if Ron's there--literally pressed against Henry's back--to see the fusion coming, maybe he reaches for a fusion, too, and lets Henry's instincts choose which pull to follow, and Henry's instincts choose Ron.

Seventh inter-dad fusion: Wren is suddenly there before Beary can even start his attempt to coach Henry through breathing (his half-effort to help Henry and be able to say that he tried freakin hate him) and is sitting on the ground and the disgusted look Beary gets seeing this. (Fusing with an outsider is something he considers so beneath his son.)

Beary:... Ah. Ronald.  Wren, existing, suddenly, and mostly being Ron's processing power as Henry's mental wheels try to slow down to match Ron's pace (cultivated through a childhood of dealing with Willy) rather than amp them both up: uhm... It's just Ron, actually Beary: would you mind... (there's other people around so he can't say "decontaminating") liberating my son. (as if ignoring the role his son had in choosing this fusion over his) Wren: Henry is uh... (me? Not me? Yes me, not up for this, we should go somewhere else that usually works fine, we can just leave and find the others and that'll be fine) he's good. We're good, we're gonna... (looking at the other people who look like Henry and the "not amping each other up” thing is working less and less)  Wren: bye

And then they just stand up and fast-walk away

Wren is either chill af and rolling with every punch or the living equivalent of a coke bottle that you popped a whole roll of mentos in and then closed immediately. At this moment, it’s very much the coke bottle side. Beary lets them go because he knows Henry will be back, and they make it just outside of town to where the others have just shown up before they fall apart. 

Ron: We found the door!  Darryl: what door?  Ron: the one in Henry's head!  And all the dads know what he's talking about Glenn: did you open it?  Henry: no  Ron: a little bit  Henry(probably now starting that panic attack): the anchors in there  Ron: his dad came out of it  Darryl: his dad???????? Henry, vulnerability, Oak: I AM FEELING VERY VULNERABLE RIGHT NOW AND I HATE IT  [chorus of mumbled sorrys] Ron: oh also Oakvale is Henry's home Darryl: WHAT Glenn: Uh hey anyone gonna pick up the phone cause I FUCKIN CALLED IT Henry: That's not my home! My home is with Mercedes back on Earth! Glenn: Yeah, this is just where you were born.  Henry: Glenn I swear to God-- Glenn: Dude lay off, I was agreeing with you! Home's where the heart meds are and all that jazz Darryl: Wait, you have heart meds? At home? When was the last time you took your heart meds? Glenn: Uhh... not since I came here? It's fiiiiiine. Never felt better! Ron: Not to interrupt but Henry's on the ground breathing funny. Glenn, are you sure you don't have any heart meds? Henry: being hugged by both of his sons in a simultaneous way that is not their normal simultaneous way (i.e. the Lord of Chaos way): WHY ARE MY SONS TALLER THAN ME Glenn: I'm more surprised that they're hugging you  Lord of Chaos: to assert dominance! Any moment now, we will turn this hug into a suplex!

And that basically brings us to now? I want a Triple Oak Fusion (the King of Chaos) but with how the fight with Beary went I’m not sure where it’ll go. OH YEAH. 

Autumn stopped fusing with Hen even when he was a kid because she couldn’t stand to see how much her son craved the approval of that evil man who stole her life away. And whether or not Henry ever fuses with anyone ever again after finding out he’s got Eldritch in him has gotta be up in the air. 

And at this point I could easily be convinced that the next inter-dad fusion is Darryl and Glenn, those beautiful idiots. They could be… Denn. Glarryl? We’ll workshop it. 

[herohotline]

Spit Out the Sun (Toshi x You) Part 2

A/N: part 2!!! I might make another part where its the opposite ending, but that probably wont be for awhile.

“What did he say?” 

“He told me he had to think about it.” You look over to Midoriya with a sad smile. “He said we’ll meet up and he’ll tell me tomorrow. And y’know,” you sluggishly shrug, “I get it. You don’t want to just say something in the heat of the moment, only to find out later that it wasn’t true. He’s being careful. It’s just not exactly the answer you want when you confess your literal dying love for someone.” 

Midoriya wordlessly nods, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder that makes you smile just a little more. The two of you are seated at a park near Toshi’s house- color you surprised when the green haired boy had knocked on the door and interrupted your confession. The two of you left together and found literally anywhere that you could sit down after that, since you couldn’t bear being around Toshi after he told you that he couldn’t give you an answer. 

Of course, you felt bad for leaning on Midoriya like this. He shouldn’t have to worry about these petty things with you, but at this point, he was the only one who knew. He was the only one you had. 

“I know it’s not my place,” Midoriya anxiously starts, taking his hand away and putting it back on his lap. “But I really think he does love you.”

You take a slow, deep breath through your nose as you close your eyes. “Thank you, Midoriya,” you release the air just as slow, opening your eyes again to look at the sky. The sun had begun to set, making everything a pleasant and warm orange hue. Breaking out of your daze, you stand up and gesture for the young boy to do the same. “I didn’t realize it was getting late… I’ll walk you home and drop you off.” 

“Are you going to be okay?” Midoriya’s emerald green eyes shine in concern for you and it breaks your heart. 

This kid was way too much like Toshinori.

“I will be fine, Midoriya.” The two of you begin to walk to his home, a respectable distance between you. You try and ignore his gaze when your body shakes, wanting desperately to cough out petals. You suppress the urge with a strong smile- you won’t let him see you break down. 

“I’ll make sure of it.” 

——

You don’t sleep at all that night, but you reason that it’s completely understandable given your situation. You can’t stop worrying about Toshi’s answer. Of course, of course you want him to love you back, but you know that the possibility that he doesn’t still exists. You know that the odds don’t look like they’re in your favor and you might have to get the surgery.

And what would happen to you? The results from removing Hanahaki had wildly different results based on the person. Some grew indifferent, some could love exactly as they could before, and some couldn’t love at all. 

What if that was you? What if everyone important to you just… faded away? 

Your heart aches at the thought of how Toshi would react. The worst part, besides the dying and awful side effects for you, was knowing that Toshi would never forgive himself. You cannot help your feelings- you know that more than most, and you know that he can’t help his feelings either. He would pretend he could, though- just so he could continue to feel awful about it. 

Oh, Toshi… You’re more of a mess than I am. 

You’d love to continue wallowing in bed until the next morning- but a few light knocks on your door breaks you out of your thoughts. You sit upright immediately, looking at your clock with a confused look on your face. It’s almost midnight- who could that be?

“Hold on,” you yell from your room, quickly putting on some warmer clothes and slippers before walking over to the door. You hesitate to open it. What if it was some creep?

Even though you’ve never used it before this point, you look through your peephole. The porchlight glows, being your only source of light in the late hour to see who it is before you rip your door open. “Toshi?!” 

“Um, hello,” his eyes grow wide from you opening the door so suddenly. “Did I wake you?”

“Do you really think I was sleeping?” You give him an exhausted look, sighing deeply and running a hand through your hair. “What are you doing here?” And then as a second thought, you open the door wider. “Come in, the cold air is getting in.”

Toshi quickly shuffles in, the both of you shivering slightly as you close the door and lock it. 

“Well, I wanted to... talk to you. I think I know how I feel- but I didn’t think I would really be sure until I saw you again.” 

Toshi’s eyes are on the floor as he speaks, his hands coming out of his trench coat pockets so he could anxiously play with them. You sigh and reach out, grabbing one of his hands gently and lead him to the couch. You sit side by side as you continue to hold his large hand in yours, looking into his eyes as earnestly as you could. 

“Toshi,” you whisper gently. “I want you to know that I’m sorry for exploding on you earlier. I know you understand why, but I’m still sorry. And I want you to know that it’s okay if you don’t feel the same.” You hold his hand a bit tighter. Your voice is wobbly just from thinking about it, but you push onward. 

“Either way, I’m going to be fine. I’m going to be fine.” You repeat it once for good measure- you don’t know if you’re trying to convince Toshi or yourself at this point. 

There’s a small silence once you’ve finished speaking. When you look up at Toshi, you see him looking back at you with an expression you can’t really name, but it still makes your heart rate speed up. 

He speaks your name, soft and gentle. He smiles, a nervous kind of smile as he wets his lips and creases his eyebrows. And then, finally- “I love you.”

You can’t really describe how it feels. It’s like the moment before fireworks start- everything is quiet and cold, but then the explosions start and everything is loud and colorful. That’s what it feels like in your heart- and also in your lungs. 

“Oh, God,” you choke, and then you’re quickly letting go of Toshi’s hands as you dash to your kitchen sink. A sudden burst of flowers flows out of your throat, sunflower petals covered in your saliva spilling in the sink as you hurl. You had read about a lot of things, but you never read about this. It’s like all the flowers that had been budding and sitting in your lungs were coming out of you all at once now that they had no reason to stay. 

Toshi had quickly followed you into the kitchen, worriedly looking over your shoulder as he rubbed your back as comfortingly as he could. You had to admit that it did help a bit- his hand was naturally warm and felt nice.

You just felt bad for ruining his confession by throwing up everywhere. 

But eventually, it ends, and you can finally breathe again. Suddenly the air felt fresh again. It hadn’t been this easy to simply be since you had thrown up your first flower. Your body relaxes over the sink, and you find yourself giggling quietly as Toshi still stays by your side. 

“Sorry about that,” you croak, your throat sore from doing all of that at once. “I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

“It’s good, though,” Toshi looks at all the sunflower petals and buds in the sink. There’s no blood. “Are they all out?”

“I think so.” 

“...Did it hurt?”

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle. “Could you get me a glass?”

“Right!” Toshi flusters and leaves your side quickly, opening a cabinet and handing you the first cup he can reach. You thank him quietly and fill it with water. When you drink, it feels so refreshing that you fill the cup up again once you’re finished and drink all of that too. 

You happily sigh once you’re done, standing up straight and looking at Toshi as you smile. “Come here,” you beckon him with your hand and he smiles back as he takes two large steps and then engulfs you with his long arms. And oh, does it feel nice.

“I love you,” you whisper into his ear. 

“I love you too,” he whispers back, holding you even closer as you positively melt against him. Yes, your eyes are wet, but you swear you’ve never been this happy.

And this tired.

“Can you carry me back to bed?” You laugh, and Toshi can feel the vibrations run through him as you do. “I’m... really tired.”

“Of course,” he smiles. It’s a little difficult carrying you since you didn’t want to stop holding him, so he scoops you up from under your legs. 

“Am I heavy?”

“I may be retired, but I’m still All Might,” he laughs through his nose and you suppose that’s true. “You weigh as much as a feather to me.”

“Someone’s bragging.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

At the end of your banter, Toshi has already made it into your bedroom. He sets you on the bed gently, tucking you under the covers with careful hands before you stop him halfway through. “You’re being silly, Toshi,” you glare playfully at him and he flushes. 

“I didn’t want to assume-”

“Do it. Assume. More than half the time, you’re going to be right. I love you, you know,” you smile and scoot over, allowing him room to lay beside you. The hero just laughs under his breath as he worms his way under the covers. “Good job,” you smile as he wraps his arms around your waist without asking. “That was a good assumption.”

“Thank you,” Toshi hums. His hands run up and down your back soothingly as you wiggle into a comfortable position beside him. Once you’re finally relaxed, your body sinking into the mattress, you feel one of his hands slide up your body and gently grab your face.

Lord help you because oh my God, Toshinori is kissing you. 

It’s innocent and sweet, a goodnight kiss at its finest. But it’s your first kiss with him and it still makes you blush as you look up at him with shocked eyes. “Was that alright?” He shrinks a little in your gaze.

“Yeah, it was great,” you smile and reach up, cupping his jaw in your hands as you lean forward to kiss him again. “Goodnight, Toshi,” you whisper against his lips, feeling his body lightly shiver. 

“Goodnight, darling.”

[billyhardgrove]

A CHALLENGE - Billy Hargrove

A/N: This is the single dirtiest thing I have ever written. Forgive me Lord. Enjoy xx

*gif not mine*

A CHALLENGE

Pairing: Billy & Reader

Word Count: 7.6k approx.

Warning: Swearing, MATURE CONTENT 18+

Summary: You’re really horny but Billy’s on duty at the pool. Challenge accepted.

MASTERLIST

-

THE SCORCHING SUN beat down on his glistening skin, highlighting the curves of his muscles and accentuating them deliciously. His hair was styled perfectly as always, the curls laying on his head like a handsome crown, with one strand falling independently from the rest across his forehead. Light stubble graced his face, dancing across his stiff upper lip giving away the stern expression he held while his eyes were masked with a pair of sunglasses. His whistle lay loosely against his bare chest, atop of the necklace you had pulled on too many times through seduction. He was just sat there in his chair, his harsh gaze on the kids in the pool, holding strict authority if a single action was carried out that was against the community pool regulations.

And God, you had never wanted him more than in that moment.

You were lying on one of the sunbeds, oiled up and glistening yourself, while dressed in the smallest bikini you owned.

You knew he had seen you, but for some reason you weren’t pressed against a wall with him growling sinful things in your ear while he was thrusting in and out of you.

He was being stubborn, but you had always liked a challenge. There was still room for convincing, you were sure from the way his eyebrows had furrowed upon taking in your golden goddess-like body laying sexily on the sun bed, his jaw clenching in slight anger. He knew what you were doing. But he wasn’t going to make it easy for you, and when the inevitable time came, he knew he wasn’t going to be easy on you.

He hadn’t looked at you since then when he had walked past you on his way to the lifeguard chair to switch with Heather for lifeguard duty. And you were growing more and more frustrated the more he ignored you, both mentally and sexually. So, you took it upon yourself to approach him, to really express the dilemma you were in.

Getting up from your bed you began to make your way around the pool to where the blonde boy was. He had gotten down from his high chair and was in the middle of talking to one of the mothers.

“- keep an eye on your son and stop him from diving in the pool otherwise I really have no choice but to ask you to leave, and you know I really don’t wanna have to do that.” Billy was saying, his voice deep and his lips were pulled into that charming smile he always seemed to have when flirting with someone, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the boy. “But unfortunately, its in the job description.” He finished, shrugging and explaining how it was out of his hands to do anything but his job, and the mother was far too giddy and smiley given what Billy had just told her.

But you knew his flirting didn’t really mean anything; it was just Billy’s unique technique of getting people to do as he asked, practically getting his authority across through his charm and flirting. Well, at least when it came to women.

Finally approaching the boy, you could tell his eyes had caught sight of you behind his sunglasses when his smile faltered slightly. Oh, you were in for it now.

“Hi Billy,” you smiled mischievously at him, being sure to pout your lips a little and subtly push your chest out. The mother gave you an almost disgusted look, glancing at you and the supposed desperation that reeked from you for trying to evidently get with Billy. Little did she know you already had Billy and had been dating him for the past year, and this – what you were doing - was all fun and games. But you didn’t care about what the older woman thought, giving her a small wave as she almost huffed and finally walked away.

Letting out a sigh, Billy finally turned to you and murmured; “What are you doing here, y/n?”

“Oh nothing, I just thought I would catch some sun is all.” You spoke innocently. Your left arm was resting across your stomach just below your breasts as your other hand twirled a strand of hair absentmindedly, keeping up the act of innocence.

Billy stared at you for a moment, his eyes raking your body, not believing a word you said. He saw that twinkle in your eye and the mischievousness it held. You were full of it. So, stepping toward to you, his head dipped closer to yours before he let out a taunting; “Well, have fun.” And that was all before he turned and began to walk away from you.

He wasn’t going to fall for your tactics. Not at work. Believe it or not, Billy somewhat cared about his job at the community pool because he knew he was good at it and he took it quite seriously. You knew this. And so, you accepted that challenge, and here you were ready to win, ready to crack the lifeguard.

But he was making it harder than you thought, watching his back muscles flex as he walked away, you took your lower lip into your mouth before you decided to fight fire with fire. If he was going to make this difficult for you, then that was no problem. You had plenty of tricks up your sleeve and Billy had better be ready for them

So, walking over to the pool, you made sure to sit at the edge right in front of the lifeguard chair, to be sure Billy’s eyes were nowhere but on you. Dipping your feet in, the water felt refreshing against your toes. This summer in Hawkins was a warm one, and today was no exception, it being one of those days in which it was too warm to actually do anything productive except catch a tan and attempt to cool down.

Giving your head a gentle shake from side to side, you could feel your long hair swing elegantly along your back before you brought your arms up, gathering it up into a hand held ponytail and letting out a sigh as the air hit the back of your neck. It was a simple action, and you couldn’t be sure if the intended effect would hit Billy, but you were just starting off easy.

But it was as you turned your head slightly over your shoulder that you could just about see Billy shuffle a bit in his seat and you couldn’t help but laugh softly at him. It had worked.

Little slut, Billy thought, knowing you were playing dirty. Given the mood that you had set and the seemingly innocent action that you had just performed, it filled Billy’s head with dirty thoughts for he knew it was anything but innocent.

It reminded him of the countless numbers of times that you had sucked him off, except it was normally his own hands that held your hair into a makeshift ponytail. And now his head was poisoned with the thoughts of your thick lips wrapped around his cock, pleasuring him in ways only you were capable of. But he fought them off, his face remained the same strict and stern as always, a slight shuffle in his seat being the only reaction you got from him.

But you expected that. It would almost be humorous if that was the motion that pushed Billy over the edge.

So next, you decided to slip into the pool, your arms skating along the water before you ducked under, deciding to swim to the other side and back, slow and steady, just to hold Billy’s attention. And as you swam back, approaching the edge of the pool in which you had previously been sitting it was here the next test would be. Gliding your head out of the water with grace, your hair was smooth against your head and back before you lifted yourself out of the pool. You held yourself up for just a moment as you stared at Billy and a teasing smirk on your lips as you saw his tongue dart out and wet his lip momentarily while staring at your body.

Water glided along your skin, glistening and wet as your tits sat pressed together, and Billy couldn’t deny the strong urge he had to rip that bikini top from you. You were gorgeous, sexy and were really making it hard for him now. Climbing out of the pool with such grace, you gave a slight skip as you got to your feet, being sure to make your breasts bounce for Billy. But still he stayed seated as he tried his hardest to pull his gaze from you.

Hmm, you thought, guess you would have to get physical.

Walking back over to your sunbed, part of Billy thought you had given up, just like that, but he knew you better than that. For it wasn’t long until you were back again, standing at the base of his lifeguard chair.

Giving him an innocent grin, he didn’t trust you. “What is it now, doll?” He asked, his voice monotonous, and you felt his eyes piercing you through his glasses.

“Well, see I was just putting sunscreen on and I can’t reach my back.” You explained, a devious look on your face as you spoke. “So, can you do it for me?”

Billy let out a humourless laugh, scoffing almost as he turned his gaze to the side for a moment an arrogant smirk on his face and your smile only spread wider. You were close. He knew that this task would be more intimate than it should be, and he was feeling defensive for this could be the moment that he crumbled.

He was quiet still, his attention remaining to the side. It was as though he needed some time to build up the strength to go through with it and it honestly humoured you.

“I don’t have all day,” you sang, mockingly. You stood with your hip popped, your left arm resting across your lower stomach while your right hand held the sunscreen in your hand, waving it impatiently.

Returning his attention to you, he mumbled a ‘fine’ before climbing down from his seat once more. You handed him the bottle, before turning your back to him, moving your hair over one shoulder and dropping your bikini straps so he could cover everywhere.

All the while, Billy was glaring at you, his eyebrows furrowed in irritation as he began to rub the cream into your soft golden skin, and you couldn’t help but sigh at his touch. Closing your eyes for a moment, you let out a soft whimper as his hands glided over your shoulders and Billy swore he felt something in his trunks from that. God, the temperature between the two of you was so high and the tension, sexual.

Fire pooled in your stomach as you felt his breath on your neck his lips leaning in closer. They ghosted along your skin, along the back of your neck and up to the edge of your ear and you thought to yourself, you had him. He was going to crack.

Heat continued to travel south as you felt his chest press right up against your back, and he inhaled before murmuring against your ear; “all done.” And just like that his touch was gone as he stepped back from you, creating unwanted space, and you couldn’t fight the annoyance in your expression.

Cocky bastard.

Pulling your straps back up over your shoulders, you turned to face the boy, an arrogant, knowing smirk stretched upon his handsome features while you looked mildly upset.

He then proceeded to hand you back the sunscreen bottle but not before leaning in again, and speaking lowly, “nice try, princess.”

God, he was smug. He usually didn’t have so much self-control around you, but you had to admit this was impressive. So, it left you with one more option.

Opening the sunscreen bottle, you squirted some into your palm before meeting Billy’s gaze, staring right into those blue eyes before bringing your hand up to the parts of your breasts that were on show. And you swore you saw his eyes grow wide while his smirk fell as your hands glided across your tits slipping in behind the fabric of your bikini top and rubbing suggestively in plain view of Billy. The shine and glow that the cream left behind almost made his mouth water, accentuating them deliciously and his mind reeled with images of himself running his tongue across their surface and around your nipples.

Billy glanced either side of you to see if anyone had noticed what you were doing before stepping closer to you, somewhat blocking the erotic scene from any by-passers.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He growled, his tone laced with a warning you were far too familiar with. His face was drawn closer to your own, intimidating and dominant.

“I need you.” You couldn’t help but whine; you had been wanting him all day and begging him seemed to be the last resort you had to finally get what you wanted. “I’m so horny, Billy, please. I need you.” You pouted, your eyes looking at him in faux plea.

“Not now. I’m on duty.” He snapped, and he sounded definite until he let his eyes glance down again, and your luscious tits made him second guess himself all over again.

“But Billy,” You stepped even closer to him, standing on your tip toes so as you could lean up to his ear before you purred; “I’m so wet for you. All I want is your big cock.” And Billy couldn’t fight the groan that grumbled from his throat at your dirty words. He felt himself stir slightly in his trunks again and he found himself closing his eyes trying to contain himself and to stop himself from just fucking you right there by the side of the pool.

But you took his silence as another no. Taking his hand in your own, you looked down as your own played innocently with his fingers while you sighed in lost hope.

“Fine,” You huffed, still not moving your gaze from his hand. “I guess I’ll have to just go play with myself then.” You shrugged, meeting his eyes once more to see his reaction and Billy just stared at you, but you knew his mind was exploding with the image you had placed there.

And it was true; Billy was internally groaning as his mind was blinded with the image of you lying before him, legs spread wide as your own fingers rubbed against your clit causing you to moan out in pleasure over and over and over again before you finally let one of your fingers slip inside and the loudest pornographic moan leaving your lips was ringing in his ears and-

“But I know it won’t be anywhere near as good as when you play with me.” You continued, fiddling with his fingers in your own before bringing his hand upwards in between the pair of you. “Especially with these fingers.” Looking back at him, you made sure to keep eye contact with him once more – for that was one thing that turned Billy on more than most was eye contact – while biting your lip. And you could tell he was wondering what you were playing at, wondering why you hadn’t just given up yet, wondering what you were planning. And he soon found out as you lifted his hand up towards your lips before slowly and teasingly slipping one of his fingers into your mouth and sucking tauntingly from the base to the tip of it all while not breaking eye contact.

And it was that moment that was the one to finally push Billy over the edge.

Pulling his hand from your grasp, he pushed you backwards before shoving you in the direction of the locker room.

“Go.” He growled, his voice so low and threatening that you didn’t want to find out what would happen if you disobeyed – for you feared you wouldn’t be able to walk for the days to come. And so you started to walk quickly towards the small building, passing a lot of mums, teenagers and children while Billy stormed close behind you, anger radiating from him and practically causing people to step out of your way like it was the parting sea. Glancing over to any people nearby, there were a few mothers and teenagers that had seen your sinful gesture and looks of disapproval and disgust were thrown his way, but he didn’t care. For he swore what he was about to do to you would be more sinful than most of those mothers could ever even fantasize about.

Being sure to wiggle your hips a little as you walked in front of him, Billy growled once more, fighting the urge to slap your ass as you finally made your way into the building. Grabbing a hold of your forearm, you didn’t dare say a word as he directed you past the office staff room upon which Heather and Stewart Bennett were sat, chatting happily to one another.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going, Hargrove? You’re on duty.” Stewart shouted out noticing the pair of your hurriedly passing by.

“Not anymore.” Billy returned, not even giving him a glance. He had one thing on his mind and one thing only.

“But Billy-“

“I said not anymore, Bennett!” Billy snapped, finally giving the sunburnt boy a pissed off look making him back down before continuing on his way and pushing you into the locker room.

There were a few people inside, either changing into their bathing suits or into their regular clothes. But Billy wasn’t having it.

“Everyone out!” He roared, his voice holding such anger that not a single person challenged him, nobody questioning why their lifeguard was stood before them, furious while grasping onto a girl in a small bikini, before they hurriedly rushed out of the room leaving the two of you alone.

Finally letting go of you, he pulled his sunglasses off, chucking them to the side before he glared at you with those heated eyes. They were crazed, fuelled with fury, aggression and lust.

“This is what you fucking wanted, y/n, now you’ve fucking got it.” He spat at you, his chest rising and falling, and you honestly couldn’t believe the reaction you had gotten out of him. It was better than what you had expected.

You remained silent, not saying a word but continuing to stare at the boy with that mischievous glint that Billy had failed to get rid of. And then he was against you, his lips crashing angrily to yours, so furious and animalistic as he pushed you backwards until your back was pressed against the lockers. It was all tongue and teeth and hands and grunts, as Billy had you trapped where you had wanted to be all along.

One of his hands was bruised against your hips while the other was reaching up and untying your bikini top. Pulling back from the kiss, his lips trail down your neck, nipping and biting here and there, before making his way down to your chest and then finally your tits. God, those fucking tits. Finally he could do what he had been imagining.

“You think it was funny, did you? Rubbing yourself like that in front of me?” He seethed against your lips, the image of you rubbing the sunscreen over your tits playing on rerun in his head. Bringing a hand up to massage one of your breasts, they fit so well in his large hands and he couldn’t wait to run his tongue along them. Billy always had been more of a tits guy rather than an ass guy anyway.

He then started to play with the nipple, rubbing it and pinching it, causing you to let out a quiet moan at the stimulation. “God, Billy.” Was all you could manage as he brought the other breast into his mouth, sucking at the supple skin and taking the nipple in between his lips.

He really knew what he was doing, your subconscious thought as you tried to fight another moan from tumbling from your own lips.

You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, and your hand subconsciously began to make your way down to your panties. Slipping it under the waist band, your fingers didn’t waste time before you pressed them against your clit, rubbing irregular circles on yourself while Billy assaulted your chest.

Letting out a staggered breath at the incredible pleasure you were feeling, you couldn’t help the whimper that left your mouth when one of your fingers made your way to your hole, tickling it timidly before delving inside. “F-fuck.” You stuttered out, and Billy smirked against your breasts at your sounds. Pulling back from you, he wanted to look at you, to see you standing there before him, wanting him more than ever.

He took in your dark eyes, swirling with hormones and want, your hair framing your face in waves, your chest rising and falling with every deep breath you took. You were like a satanic angel. And then his eyes trailed downwards, widening slightly. If you weren’t the sexiest girl he had ever met…

“Fuck, baby – are you fingering yourself?” Billy cursed, mesmerised at the scene in front of him. He could feel himself growing harder, turned on from the way you were a mess from touching yourself, playing with your pussy. “Jesus, you’re filthy.” He groaned, his own hand reaching down to rub himself a little over his swimming trunks, at least giving him a tiny bit of relief.

You could only moan at the boy as you continued to finger fuck yourself.

“God, I’m going to destroy you, y/n.” And his lips were on yours again, feverish, mad, dominant. He tugged at your bikini thong, pulling them down your legs before removing your fingers from yourself and taking over. Swiping his fingers along your lips, he felt how wet you were, how ready you were. “Baby, you’re soaking.” Billy chuckled, causing your cheeks to burn red as he taunted you and how horny you were. Bringing his hand up to show your juices shining against his fingers, he chuckled once more, menacingly. “Well, princess, since you like sucking fingers so much, how about you suck yourself clean off of mine.”

He brought his hand closer to you, aligned with your lips as he raised a challenging eyebrow at you, as if to dare you to say no. Looking at him, looking at those ominous eyes, you leaned forward not breaking eye contact as you once again sucked on Billy’s fingers, letting your tongue lick them clean of your wetness. Pulling back, he smirked, domineering. “Good girl.”

He then proceeded to lean in to kiss you at the exact moment his hand was back between your legs and not one but two of his thick fingers had slipped inside of you. And you gasped into his lips, feeling yourself spread and stretch around his digits. Pumping his fingers in and out of you, you couldn’t fight the moans from leaving you this time. It was always better when Billy was the one touching you. Your mouth was agape, sounds of pleasure and heaven falling freely from you.

“You like that, baby, huh? You like how I’m fingering you in the locker room? Anyone could walk in right now and see you, a complete mess at my fingertips.” Billy murmured against your ear, his breath tickling your skin and his words only turned you on more and more, your core ablaze. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your climax.

“Shit, Billy, don’t stop. I’m close.” You managed to let out, and Billy begin scissoring his fingers inside of you, causing your eyes to close, shocked by the ecstasy he was giving you. Your back arched against the cold metal of the lockers, your chest pressing against his as he watched you fall apart from his doing. His lips pressed against yours once more, but you could barely concentrate on that as you felt yourself getting there, closer and closer and-

“What the fuck?!” You screamed, shoving Billy backwards as an evil smile captured his face, his teasing fingers swinging by his side. “I was nearly there!” You were annoyed, frustrated at how he had just deprived you from coming. “You’re a fucking asshole. I can’t believe-“

“Now hold on sweetheart,” Billy growled back, stepping towards you, his chest pressed to yours once more while his two hands slammed against the lockers on either side of your head causing them to rattle and you to fall silent immediately. “Who’s in charge here?”

The fact that you stayed silent upon his question didn’t please him so he brought his hand down between your legs once more and cupped your heat in his palm causing another gasp to echo from your lips at the sensitivity and sensation his mere touch could give you. “I said, who’s in charge here?” He repeated, his voice low and threatening, as though he was warning you not to make him ask again.

“You are.”

“That’s right. I am,” Billy nodded, his words slow and clear, as he removed his hand from between your thighs. “Now get on your knees.”

You quickly got on the ground before him, kneeling, awaiting his next instructions. You watched as Billy pulled his swim trunks down, his erection springing free and perfectly in line with your face.

“You know what to do, princess. You’ve done it a thousand times before.” Billy said, impatience and mockery held in his words.

So, shuffling a little bit closer, you opened your mouth and took him between your lips. You could feel the head reach right back against your throat as you took as much of him in as you could without gagging. Right on cue, Billy’s hands reached down and pulled your hair back, making a make-shift ponytail with his hands, making sure your only attention was on pleasuring him.

Taking a moment to adjust to how deep he had gone in your mouth, you finally began to move your head up and down along the length of his thick cock. He was filling up your mouth and even still not all of him fit. You could feel the weight of him along your tongue, your eyes scrunching a little as you relaxed your throat and took him in further, deep throating him.

“You’re such a dirty girl, princess – taking in all of my cock.” Billy growled, looking down at you through his long lashes as he fought the groans grumbling up his throat. Glancing up to make eye contact with him, you heard a low moan finally escape him at just how hot you looked with him in your mouth. Fuck, you were dirty.

Billy’s head tilted back a little when you moaned around his length, making it known of just how much you enjoyed having him between your lips. Pulling him from your mouth, you moaned out, “God, you taste so good, baby.” Starting to move your hand from the base of his cock upwards, you then leaned forward and focussed on kitten licking his tip, causing him to almost lose his control. You could practically feel him shudder then, as you let your tongue trail right from the bottom to the head of his cock, slowly, tauntingly, tracing over his thick vein.

“So fucking good.” You hummed and the vibrations almost triggered him back into control, for just as you were about to bring him back into your mouth, he grasped tighter onto your hair and then shoved himself down further into your throat. You gagged a little, caught off guard but happily took him as he began to move his hips back and forward, pulling himself in and out, roughly fucking your sinful mouth. You could feel your throat start to grow raw at the sheer friction of it, but you loved it; you loved how rough Billy was.

You continued to hollow out your cheeks, revelling in the heavy breaths that left him as you knew Billy was trying hard not to let on to how good you were making him feel, but his breathing was a giveaway. Eventually, you needed to catch your breath, so you pulled back from his length, gasping for air a little, but in no time you had been pulled to your feet and Billy’s mouth was back on yours. He couldn’t handle how sexy you looked, with your lips swollen red from being wrapped around his dick and your cheeks flushed and your eyes crazed. He was infatuated with you.

It wasn’t as rough this time, the kiss, but more simple yet passionate as the pair of you caught your energy in order to prepare for what was next. Billy’s arms were wrapped tightly around your back, bringing you impossibly close as he kissed you and your own were around his neck. He then murmured against your lips, ‘jump’, which you did, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He walked over to one of the benches in the room, sitting down on it with you on his lap. You could feel him rubbing against you, against your heat and you couldn’t help but grind down on him. You wanted him so badly.

“I need you inside me,” you whined, not being able to take the teasing any longer. So, pulling back, you reached down to him and pumped him a couple of times before you finally sank down onto his full length. “S-shit,” you staggered out, even after all this time it still took you a few seconds to adjust to him.

Billy leaned forward, moving your hair away from your neck before pressing his lips against it, trailing sloppy kisses along your jaw and then towards the base of your neck. You revelled in the feeling for a moment before finally you lifted your hips until just his head was inside before you sank back down onto him, over and over as your mouth fell open again at the feeling.

The only sound in the locker room were your moans, Billy’s heavy breaths and the sound of hot skin hitting skin echoing like an anthem. His hands trailed along your sides before resting against your ass, moving along with your hips as he squeezed at the flesh.

Rotating your hips, you bit your lips to try to restrain how loud you really wanted to moan but when Billy started to buck his hips up to meet yours, you couldn’t help it.

“Fuck, Billy.”

“You like that, princess? Jesus, I can feel you clenching me so tightly.” He let out, continuing to thrust upwards, getting faster and faster as your sounds of pleasure matched. “Are you gonna come for me, baby? Are you gonna come all over my cock?”

Nodding your head, you could feel that familiar feeling return and you prayed that Billy would let you release this time. God, you were so close.

Billy stared at you, your face contorted in utter pleasure, making him revel in the praise. Your tits bounced sensually in front of him, causing him to mentally groan before he looked down to where he was slipping inside of you and he could feel himself get turned on even more, if it were possible. He had really hit a strike of luck capturing a girl like you, and he was sure to not take you for granted.

“Go on, baby. Come for me,” He urged, before bringing his hand between the two of you and starting to rub your clit. And it was as if fire sparked from his fingertips as that amplified the ecstasy you felt. You could feel your eyes begin to blur, nearly closing as you were on the very edge of coming. And then Billy started to jut his hips harder against you, his cock hitting deeper on the spot that finally got you there.

Your vision was white, every single nerve within your being having been set alight as you finally came. Breathing heavy and eyes lidded, your lips turned up into a lazy satisfied smile. But as you stared at Billy, a mischievous smirk graced his lips and your eyebrows were just about to furrow in a frown when he easily lifted you up and onto your feet.

“Up against the lockers, back to me.” He ordered, his cock still erect, and you realised he didn’t finish yet. “Don’t make me repeat myself again, princess. You don’t want to test me.” He warned.

So, slowly, timidly, you walked over to the lockers your front facing them. You felt him walk towards you, his breath reaching the back of your neck as his chest ghosted your back.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you baby?” He chuckled darkly, and you almost gulped at what more he could have in mind. “Ass out.” He then growled and you did as you were told, your legs still rather weak from having just came moments before. Bending forward so as the palm of your hands were against the lockers, your back arched as you pushed out your ass towards him. You could feel him rub against you, and your pussy throbbed, still sensitive from before.

But before you could think twice, he was inside you once more and this time he was ruthless. Thrusting in and out of you, you could feel his hips rutting against your ass, his hands gripping onto your hips as he fucked you, hard.

“Fuck, Billy!” You moaned out, your hand slapping against the locker at the relentless pace he was going at. “Yes, right there, baby. Right there.” He was hitting you deep, the different angle causing your stomach to bubble and relight all over again.

Moulding your ass with his hands, he pounded faster into you, slick and easy as your cum worked as a lubricant.

“Is this what you wanted, princess? The way you were walking around in that tiny bikini, teasing and testing me, all you wanted was my thick cock inside your tight cunt, huh? You wanted me to fuck you like the dirty little slut you are.” He sneered, and fuck, was that hot.

You moaned out at his words, turned on even more. “Yes! Yes, just like that.”

“I want you to say it, baby.” He leaned forward, his head next to yours as he uttered the words, his voice so deep and sexy. But the way his cock was pummelling you mercilessly, your brain had gone foggy as all you could focus on was the immense pleasure that overcame your being. But Billy wasn’t happy with that.

Bringing his hand down hard against your ass, the pain spread like fire against your skin and you let out a ‘fuck’ at the shock and hot sensation of it. “I said, say it.” Billy seethed, his hand lifting from your hip as he took your face between his fingers, making you turn back to look at him.

“I’m a dirty little slut.” You managed to let out, a loud moan following your words when you felt his hand slap your ass again. “God, yes, I love your cock so much, baby. It’s so fucking deep inside me.” And Billy let out a low groan at your filthy words, bringing your lips to his in a messy, sloppy kiss before he pulled away.

“Shit, y/n, I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for the next week, do you hear me?” He grunted heavily, pressing your body flat up against the lockers so as he was right behind you, his chest resting flush against your back.

He was so close, so deep inside you and as he railed you, Billy’s grunts were gradually getting louder and louder, a sign that he was nearing his end. And the constant sounds of your skin hitting each other battled for power but your moans and dirty talk claimed control. But then a sound neither one of you expected, took over.

The door to the locker room squeaked on its hinges, a sign that someone was entering the room. Instantly Billy halted his actions, the pair of you holding your breaths in anticipation of getting caught. Luckily, you were in such an angle from the doorway that whoever it was wouldn’t be able to see you, so long as they didn’t walk further into the room that is.

And then footsteps echoing along the ground resounded around the room. Turning your head to Billy, you gave him a slightly panicked look, not exactly wanting to be caught in the position the two of you were in.

He brought his finger up to his lips in a hush gesture before peering past the lockers slightly to see if he could get a glimpse of who it was.

“Stewart,” he mouthed to you, and your eyes fell wide, your lip being pulled into your teeth in apprehension. What the hell was he doing in here? Was he not supposed to take over Billy’s duty by the pool? But then you thought that maybe he had been sent in to check the situation out, seeing as Billy had dragged you into a room followed by everyone else previously in that room being sent out; it was rather suspicious and it didn’t take a genius to work out what the two of you had planned to do in those circumstances.

Stewart’s footsteps soon stopped, and you looked in his direction where you could just make out the back of one of his shoulders. Then the sound of a locker opening followed and part of you felt relieved for perhaps he wasn’t there to scope out the situation and was oblivious to it all.

But unfortunately, Billy seemed to have caught on to that as well, when the palm of his hand lifted up to cover your mouth and you felt his hips pull back before shallowly thrusting into you.

Your eyes widened in shock at what he was doing, but you couldn’t deny that part of you got flustered at the thought of getting caught, adrenaline overflowing your veins. It was a dangerous game, but wasn’t everything when it involved Billy Hargrove?

You tried not to make any sound against his hand but then the sly bastard took his other hand and brought it round the front between yours legs, finding your clit. You could feel your legs begin to go funny, your eyes shutting tight at the added pleasure while you bit tenderly against Billy’s palm. You could hear him chuckle darkly against your ear at the state he had you in.

Finally, what felt like forever of trying to stay quiet, the locker door slamming shut and Stewart’s footsteps moving back towards the door bounced against the walls, and finally the squeaking hinges and bang of the door shut once more signalled Billy’s release of your mouth, allowing you to call out.

“Jesus, fuck!” You pushed off of the lockers, causing Billy to pull out and back off of you. Turning to face him, your eyes were wide, adrenaline and shock pouring out of you from his risky antics. “We could’ve gotten caught.”

He stepped towards you. “But we didn’t.” Billy smirked. “Now are you going to let me finally finish?”

Letting out a huff, you were caught off from Billy’s lips against yours once more as he backed you up against the lockers again. You pulled away from him, his lips still ghosting yours as he stared down at you through those deep ocean eyes. “I thought you said you were going to fuck me until I couldn’t walk for a week.” You whispered, raising an eyebrow at him with expectation.

And that was all it took for Billy to thrust himself inside you in one motion, his cock picking up where he had left off. His fierce rapid thrusts were so fast-paced and raw and sharp, rougher than he had ever done before, your mockery clearly giving him a point to prove.

“Is that it?” You asked, trying your hardest not to moan out in complete elation as you taunted him. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“The fuck did you say?” Billy barked, clearly not happy with your scorn. Bringing one of his hands upwards, you felt his fingers wrap around your throat, choking you lightly in challenge; in challenge to repeat what you said, and to see where that got you.

His hips pounded yours, bruises surely to be found in the morning at the sheer force and friction and his cock devoured your pussy, rutting sharp hard thrusts into you. Sweat glistened against his skin from the hot effort and his curls stuck flat to his head. God, Billy really knew what he was doing for you were intoxicated with pleasure.

But then you had the nerve to splutter out, ‘harder’ and his fingers tightened more around your throat, the dominance and aggression washing a whole new wave of fire to crash towards your core and you knew you were close to coming all over again.

Grasping a hold on your thigh with his free hand, Billy lifted it up allowing him greater access to your flourishing pussy and allowing him to sink even deeper if that was possible. His heavy grunts thundered your ears, your eyes screwing shut again at the overbearing amount of pleasure that coursed and captivated your every fibre. Muffled moan after moan, scream after scream was drawn from you with Billy’s thick cock.

“Are you going to come for me?” He asked, breathless and heavy. “Go on, princess. I want you to come all over my cock again. I know you can.”

And his hand was back on your clit, rubbing fast circles, getting you to your end as quick as he could.

“Yes, Billy. Fuck! Yes, yes, yes-“

And then your mouth was agape in overwhelming euphoria, your being blinded with bliss as your core finally erupted in upmost pleasure. Your whole body seemed to be paralysed for a moment as you were held hostage by your climax and all the while, Billy never ceased his actions. And then finally, finally, a deep moan of his own parted from his lips and you felt his hot release inside you, his head thrown back, his eyes nearly closed as he came.

And as the two of you came down from your high, you were both limp, exhausted, spent and satisfied. Your forehead leaned lazily against his shoulder, a gentle smile pulled between your lips, your orgasmic-clouded mind finally beginning to clear. Billy’s arms were wrapped around your back as he held you close, his chin resting softly against the top of your head.

There was comfortable silence between you, the pair of you revelling in each other and your luck each of you believed you had to have found one another.

“Wow.” You broke the quiet first, honestly partly in shock at all that had just happened.

“Yeah, wow.” Billy agreed, still holding you tightly. “You wanted it.” He added, and you could practically hear the smirk on his mouth.

“Oh, really? What gave that away?” You asked, sarcastically. It’s not as though that was the whole reason you came to the pool in the first place. Oh wait…

“It would have to be when you sucked my finger. I was completely clueless up until that point.” He replied, humour on his lips, and you couldn’t help but laugh at him. Pulling back from you a little, his hands rested on your hips as he looked at you with an adoring smile; the first one you had seen since arriving at the pool. Then it faltered for a moment, before he asked, genuine concern laced through his words. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“For the last time no.” You replied, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “You ask every time we fuck like that.” But your heart never ceased to burst with love and adoration for the boy and the genuine care he showed, something that had taken a long time for him to build up the courage to display to you over the course of your relationship. “If you’re too rough, I’ll tell you, ok? You don’t need to worry or keep asking. I promise.” You told him earnestly, before leaning in and giving a soft and gentle kiss, one that completely contradicted everything the pair of you had just done.

“Also, I win.” You added, a large grin captivating your entire face when you pulled away and Billy raised his eyebrow in question. “I have to admit it was a bit of a challenge, but I finally managed to make you give in while at work. So, I win, Hargrove.” You bragged, your glee contagious as Billy found himself grinning back at you.

For you see, earlier on that week the pair of you had been discussing Billy’s hidden enjoyment for his job and how serious he took it, and then your claim of being able to get him to hook up with you while at work was thrown out there. Billy had denied with great confidence that he wouldn’t crack, but in the end,  you were right; you did win.

But nonetheless, Billy was still sure that he had won too; for even though it wasn’t a game, a challenge or a bet, he had still won you. And that was all that mattered.

 -

A/N: Lemme know what you thought here (if you want) xx

PS. Was thinking of starting a tag list so if you would like to be tagged in any of my future works then also lemme know here xx