#I REFUSE TO DRAW WITH THAT MUCH BLACK. HELL NO

[lamina-tsrif]

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

a one piece color spread redraw + an alternative color palette cuz I think it’s neat !

[meowmeowriley]

Gaz has noticed something.

Soap's hand is black. More specifically, the pad of his middle finger on his right hand, and the sides of his ring and pointer fingers are also stained.

He knows it's staining, as he's watched the other Sergeant wash his hands numerous times. An inky black has settled into the divots of his fingerprints and refuses to wash out.

It's been weeks, with no sign of lessening. Gaz has deduced that the blackness on Soap's ring and pinter fingers is transfer from the middle, but what could it be?

Not oil, Soap isn't permitted anywhere near the motor pool, not anymore. And he uses the same gun oil as Gaz himself, and as Gaz's fingers aren't turning, that can't be it.

Finally his curiosity gets the best of him, and as the whole team was in the rec room, Gaz broke.

"What's all over your hand? For a man named Soap, doesn't look like you use it much." Teasing was innate, he couldn't help it.

Soap had been drawing in his journal, Gaz couldn't see what. The other man looked up from his work, confused. Gaz held up his own right hand, tapping his thumb to his middle finger a few times, until Soap looked down to the hand gripping his pencil.

A wolfish grin spread across Soap's fa as he spoke. "My hands look like this," he held up the stained hand, wiggling the digits in question. "So his face can look like that." He pointed to Ghost, why was sat with his balaclava on the table beside him, sipping his tea as he read the paper.

Ghost froze for just a moment, cup to his lips, before setting it down and slumping back in his chair. He sighed heavily, and closed his eyes. His eyes which were covered in eye black. "Fuckin' hell Soap, shut up." The Lieutenant muttered, before going back to reading and ignoring everyone else in the room.

Soap was doing Ghost's eye black? Scandelous. They might as well be snoggin' in public.

Anybody else remember that stupid trend of guys taking pictures of their hands all dirty and their girlfriends/wives hands all clean with that quote? (Well, I tweaked it a bit, face instead of hands. Whatever.) It was dumb as fuck, and Soap would love it.

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓! ꒱ 김동현

summary : you’ve been bored of your boyfriends calm demeanor, so you decided to prank him just to see if he’d start a fight—however, it gave you something much better

genre : kinda angsty, suggestive, leehan x afab!reader tws : language, kinda toxic behavior, suggestive content author notes : sorry this took a while i’ve been supah swamped but i hope you enjoyed the direction i took your request in !! word count : 1.4k

you don’t know why you were doing this. even as you applied the black, green and blue makeup, you couldn’t think of a valid reason. yet, here you were, sat on your couch scrolling through your phone, just awaiting the opportunity to prank your sweet, unsuspecting boyfriend.

maybe he’d gotten too comfortable in your relationship. hell, you used whatever excuse to try and justify it. but, the truth is, you wanted to see if he had it in him to get mad at you. he was so damn peaceful all the time—you loved that about him, really—nonetheless, deep down, your heart raced with the thought; the anticipation when he’d finally catch a glimpse of your artwork that he’d deem someone else’s.

this was fun.

you knew it’d work. you’ve never let leehan purposefully leave marks on your skin, not because it didn’t feel good to have him kiss you, but simply because you’ve always found them tacky and a hassle to cover up. you’d wasted so much makeup in the past trying to do so, so whenever he’d come close to leaving purple patches, you’d tell him to stop. he’d even bargained with leaving them in places only he could see, but you still refused. especially if you couldn’t return the favor.

you knew this was an evil way to push his buttons, that you oh-so-desperately wanted to see pushed. it was selfish, really, however at this moment in time the plan was already set into action. you wanted to start a fight, just to see if he could.

he’s never gotten mad at you. he’s never yelled at you. he’s never dared put a hand on you. and that was a dream, but somewhere deep down, you knew it was also just as boring as it was desirable. you wanted him to yell at you. at least once. manhandle you— consensually, of course. you wanted so much, and maybe this wasn’t the right way to bring it up, but it didn’t matter anymore as his voice broke through the silenced air.

“what’s that?”

“what’s what?” you asked, acting obliviously as you scrolled through twitter and instagram in turns.

he shrugged, and you don’t know if it was the fact that he seemingly didn’t care, or if it was that maybe he just brushed it under the rug as anything else, that began to piss you off.

nonetheless, you decided you were in it for the long run. after all, you wanted to see if he’d start the fight.

and throughout the rest of the afternoon you’d catch leehan staring in your direction, shifting his gaze when you’d make eye-contact. he kept a calm demeanor, never asking again what the purple marks on your neck were. he’d even hugged you before he left for practice, getting all up close and personal with the artwork.

you were finding it hard to believe he hadn’t noticed.

maybe he was gathering his thoughts. maybe he was trying to decided why you didn’t smell like another man—why he knew you wouldn’t do that to him. maybe as much as his buttons were pushed, this was it for his stemmed anger. maybe dance practice was his way to relieve the stress you caused from time-to-time. maybe the cool, calm and collected leehan was the only version of your otherwise, smiley, boyfriend.

maybe you were beginning to feel bad because you had no idea the feelings he had towards this prank. did it upset him? you wouldn’t be none-the-wiser to it if it had. he was good at shielding emotions, and maybe that’s where you needed to draw the line. maybe that’s where your conversation should’ve began, instead of whatever the hell tiktok had inspired you to do.

you kept looking at the clock on your home screen, counting down the minutes until he’d come back to you. and just as you had decided to end the prank, opting for a civil—adult-ish—conversation, a text illuminated your dark screen.

it read: we need to talk.

yet you couldn’t decipher the hidden meaning. of course you knew what it was about, that’s the only thing that’s been wrong throughout the last few months between you two. what else could it be? and why, now that you were finally getting what you wanted, didn’t it feel good?

you didn’t answer him, partially because you didn’t know what to say; it was a prank. i just wanted to see if you’d get mad at me. i’m so bored of this. nothing seemed correct, or frankly, truthful.

you also knew that he wasn’t far. he wouldn’t have texted you otherwise, just to torcher you—though it would’ve been deserved. so, you waited by the door for your boyfriend to get back, the thought of washing away the eyeshadow long gone.

then, it finally opened with the pattern of your key code. the air became thick and you found it hard to swallow with a lump in your throat. were you sorry? yes. did you feel bad for being immature? yes. was a tiny part of you still curious to see how this would play out?

yes.

"y/n," was the first, and only, thing he muttered for a couple of excruciatingly long minutes. you watched as he put his bag down, eyed him as he took his shoes off, and almost burst when he ran a hand through his hair. maybe leehan was able to torture you, even if unintended.

his eyes finally met yours, but then they drifted to your neck, and further to your collar bone. he knew. he's known since the first question left his lips hours and hours ago.

"what's that?" his arms snaked between each other, and you found it wrong to think it was hot, but you very much did.

almost like deja vu, the same feeling crept up from down within you. "what's what?" you reenacted. although this time, he didn't let it go. he approached you quickly, too fast to get away before you were sandwiched between the plaster and his body.

his hands were slow with movements. those oh-so-stupid-fucking-hands that had you, literally, at his fingertips. one forcing your head by your jaw to expose your neck, while the other brushed away the hair that disguised the marks from his view.

you fronted being indifferent, but truth be told, if he wasn't holding you up your knees would have buckled already, leaving you as a mess on the floor in front of him.

"you must think i don't know you," he voiced, holding eye-contact as he pushed his thumb between your lips, gathering just enough saliva to then press the digit to your neck and swipe. and it smudged with enough force, despite being labeled as waterproof. "tell me why you felt the need to paint these on. i couldn't think of one good reason all day, princess."

and the nickname he always called you—innocently and less than—had your heart in absolute shambles; the anticipation was just as good as if he'd raised his voice, you thought.

maybe your vanilla-scented boyfriend had finally gotten the hint that you wanted more, despite going about it in a less than thoughtful way. and maybe you realized that you didn't hate that he was always nice, no you loved that about him, but sometimes it was okay if he wanted to be a little bit meaner with you. after all, he could always say my... anything he wanted, and that would still mean that he saw you as his forever only.

"i-i," you couldn't think straight when he attached his lips over the previously (fakely) marked spots. his breath was hot, lips gentle then firm as he sucked against the spots he knew you'd rarely let him have his way with. "i—uh, fuck. leehan,"

his voice was low against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and a whimper up your throat. "if you wanted something, you could've just asked me, baby. i'd give you anything."

the eyes that you've grown comfortable with always seemed to be there despite the firm placement he had you in. you knew he loved you more than anything, so you knew his words were true. and his demeanor broke when he kissed your lips, almost giving you whiplash.

his palms laid flat against your cheeks, thumbs rubbing sweetly. "if you wanted everyone to know that you're mine, let me do it myself."

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[specsthesecond]

Witch Troubles #3

It's a fairly common practice among witches to form pacts with demons.

It's not necessary but it's an age old practice meant to strengthen ones connection to magic. The witch gains a stronger connection to magic and in exchange the demon gains easier access to the mortal realm.

You've debated this decision for awhile and you finally think you're ready to forge your own pact. Worst case scenario is the demon refuses your offer, which would be embarrassing but not the end of the world.

You shut the door of your room, close the black out curtains and light a few candles. Squinting at the diagram of the summoning circle in your grimoir you try to replicate it perfectly on the old wooden floorboards in white chalk. When it's done you dust off your hands and place the candles in the right places around the circle along with a good amount of enchanted salt around the circumference for your protection. You stand up and take a breath before reciting the ancient words in your book while channeling all your energy into the circle.

The flames burn higher, so hot you have to shrink back a little. It takes all your effort and concentration to keep the chant going without misspeaking or burning the house down. A giant fire now billows in the centre of the circle, something large rises from the middle. You finish the spell and the flames gradually flicker away to reveal exactly the entity you were trying to summon. The little candles around the circle are the only source of light now, barely illuminating your guest. Smoke smoulders off its skin as it rises to full height and stares right at you with it's flaming eyes.

The demon, male it seems, stands in the middle of the summoning circle as tall as your book shelf and just about as wide. True to the drawings and diagrams in your texts he stands on two thick furry goat-like legs. The soft looking tuft at the end of his long thin tail swishes against the old floorboards as they creak under his weight. The rest of his body is charcoal black but otherwise fairly human save for the large goat-like skull that is his head. Beautiful horns, much too majestic for a demon, sprout from the white bone and curl into a thick loop on either side of his skull.

In short; he's the definition of tall, dark and handsome.

Two flaming pits behind the eye holes in the skull serve as eyes, they burn red and hot like the flames of hell as he glares down at you. You assume it's a glare, it's hard to tell.

You clap your grimoir shut, unable to look away from the demon yet. He seems the same, quietly observing you.

"Good evening, I'm sure you know why I've summoned you."

You say as calmly as possible. The demon looks you up and down and hums lowly, sceptical.

He grunts and crosses his arms over his chest. You have to use all your self control not to look down at the incredibly distracting package he's carrying between his legs as it bobs with the movement. Obviously you were prepared for him to be naked, demons don't wear clothes but actually having to practice that self-control is another thing entirely.

You're snapped out of your thoughts when the demon speaks, low and gravely like you expected.

"Witches used to dance for us around fires, bathe in the blood of sacrifices, throw orgies. This is all I get for my pact proposal?"

That's not what you expected. You were expecting some doubt sure but he sounds... offended? He's complaining?

"I don't need to do any of that to show you my worth. You can already sense my magic capabilities, I can show you- ."

He growls again. When he speaks his jaw bone doesn't move, the voice sounds like it reverberates around the skull on its way out.

"Its about devotion, witch. You show me your devotion and I'll give mine in return. No one cares for presentation anymore."

Who needs presentation? Sure, devotion is important in a pact but he's being ridiculous. You look around the room for a moment before saying flatly,

"My apologies but I will not be sacrificing anything or throwing any orgies and I cannot dance."

The demon scoffs and adjusts his crossed arms, thick biceps flexing as he does.

"All witches dance. Your ancestors where very good at it."

You scoff, telling him about your magic capabilities definitely isn't going to work. Why'd you have to get a difficult demon? Why couldn't you get a normal power-hungry one?

"Are you truly that compelled by naked dancing women?"

You attempt to needle him in hopes of avoiding what you know is inevitable. He doesn't respond, just stands there expectantly.

Some demons may agree to pacts based only on the power of the witch but others don't care for power and value the devotion of the act much more. You were very much hoping for the former but you're going to have to deal with what you got.

After a few moments of staring at eachother you finally crack and bend down to make quick work of your shoes and socks. You dropped your skirt around your ankles, take a deep breath and slide your panties down your legs. You see the demon shift his weight in your peripheral but you don't look at him as you unbutton your blouse and unclip your bra. You leave your black pointy hat on your head, assuming that's part of the appeal.

You only look back at him when you're completely naked, standing Infront of him and crossing your arms over your tits, mirroring his own stance.

He seems amused at that, You can see the little flames in his skull move up and down in a way that indicates he's soaking in your nude body.

"Unfortunately, dancing naked around a fire was not passed down to me like the magic was."

"A pity."

You scowl and the demon huffs smoke through the holes in his skull, chuckling.

"You're a witch, magic exists in your very veins. Use it. Caress your body. Sway your hips. Feel the power in your body and worship it as you would a god."

He says it like it's incredibly obvious and you actually feel inclined to listen to him. You close your eyes and try to "feel the power" whatever that means. You uncross your arms and place them on your thighs, slowly moving them up your waist and back down again.

Your skin feels especially sensitive being completely bare in front of such a powerful being, who is also naked. Just the light touch of your hand makes your skin prickle as you move your fingers slowly across yourself.

You start to arch and sway, hands moving up your thighs, across your stomach, along your neck. You free yourself, offering your body to this demon. The demon growls lowly and says in a deeper tone than before,

"The point of the pact is the connection. You summoned me, This is your pact to forge so show me your devotion."

His fiery eyes follow your every move, every sway of your hips and bounce of your tits.

You carefully run your hands from your waist up to your tits, briefly feeling the soft fat before moving up your shoulders. You stretch your arms high, now putting your tits on full display for your demon guest, the attention and cool air makes your nipples harden.

You turn around, your back facing the demon and he huffs irritably at being denied the sight of your perfect tits. His grievances are smothered when you bend down and run your hands up the back of your legs all the way to your ass, gripping the fat just enough to make it jiggle for him.

You can feel the room getting hotter, you can see his cock getting harder and you can feel the wetness In-between your legs as you dance.

You give one last tantalising hip sway before slowly dropping to your knees in front of him, on the edge of the salt circle. You look up at him while sliding your hands up your thighs, from here you have a perfect view of his half hard cock, looking so thick and heavy the sight has you nearly panting like a dog.

You rest your hands behind you, now presenting your entire body to him, tits perked and pussy drooling, devilishly tempting.

"Does that satisfy."

You say gazing up at him sultry gaze flicking down to his cock, you swear you saw it twitch.

"You know exactly what would satisfy me."

His voice is deeper than before, more gutteral and it makes you squirm. You might have been embarrassed about being so open about his effect on you if it wasn't for his obvious arousal for you. You're honestly just glad this is going well so far.

You lean forward, shuffle closer to the salt barrier and stick your tongue out, mouth open and waiting, silently begging for him.

The demon's hand goes to hold his cock immediately and he steps towards the barrier holding his cock out, but before he can place the tip on your hot tongue, you pull back slightly with a sick grin on your face.

The demon tries to grab your face but you retreat further, past the salt circle and therefore out of reach. You look up at his collosal frame with a smug smirk as he growls in irritation and the candle flames flicker violently.

"Don't forget, this is a mutual pact, demon. You don't call the shots... I want to be on top."

"What makes you thin-“

"I'm on top or you can go back home."

He grumbles something unintelligible, shaking his head in disbelief. One hand goes back to his cock idly stroking the thick member as he nods his head, accepting the terms.

You stand and steel yourself before wiping away a portion of the salt line with your foot, breaking the circle. You reach out for his hand and he accepts it with the hand not stroking his dick, stepping out of the circle and into your bedroom. His hands are immediately on your skin, thick fingers running along your waist and down to your hip. His skin is so warm, like the blood running through his veins is boiling hot giving the surface skin a pleasant warmth.

He stares down at you in suspense waiting for your go ahead.

You bring your hands up his chest and around his broad shoulders, and pull him down to your height only to push him down your body until his skull face is right Infront of your pussy. You let him get a good sniff of your smell before pushing him down to the ground with your foot, standing above him looking very tryumphant.

He doesn't have much time to marvel at your figure above him because before he knows it you're sitting on his dick, pussy pressing right against his cock, he bucks on instinct, the wet warmth of your pussy against the heat of his cock makes him let out a gutteral moan.

You slowly rock your hips back and forth the length of his cock, an impressive length but one you could manage. Neither of you can stand the foreplay any longer, his hands grip your waist at the same time you finally slide his cock into your waiting cunt.

You both groan at the feeling as you pop the mushroom head into your cunt and you slide your pussy down to the hilt, feeling every vein of his hot cock against your walls. You're so slick and needy the fat cock slides in with surprisingly little resistance. That makes him chuckle, which you cut off with a deliberate thrust of your hips.

Your screams are muffled and gargled but the sound of your wet pussy slapping and squelching around his cock as you cum echos throughout the room. He growls and snarls into your mouth when he gets close, tilting his head back in absolute bliss.

You plant your feet on either side of his waist, moving all the way up back to the tip and then plunging back down again taking him as deep as he'll go. You bounce and hump on this demons fat cock, tits bouncing in tandem, pretty face in the throws of pleasure. It's a sight to see and he loves every minute of it, clutching your hips but letting you control the pace.

The fur covering his legs is soft and warm against your ass as you ride your new pact mate. Your hands rest on his strong chest as you lose yourself even more in the intense pleasure. Panting and groaning, as you approach your high, your thrusts get more frantic as if you're trying to get him even deeper into your cunt. Your eyes are locked onto the way his pretty cock disappears Into to your cunt, the fur at the hilt becoming wet with your slick.

"Ah~ cum inside, cum inside, cum inside me!"

Your frantic pleas are heard when he wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest, his other hand firmly on your ass pushing into you as deep as possible. You finally cum around the throbbing cock clenching your walls deliciously, pressed into his chest. He cums seconds after you, shooting abnormally hot cum deep inside you. Your body stills as you cum down, his strong arms move you body against him in shallow thrusts as he bucks up into you, riding out his high.

You limply lie on his massive chest catching your breath as you come down, ignoring the drool you left on his pec. You realise he's eerily quiet and look up only to find he's staring at your face in a manner you think is expecant? Only then do you actually realise that his dick hasn't gone down at all. You can't help but laugh, pussy involuntarily clenching making the demon clutch your hips tighter.

"Is this all for me or is it just a demon thing?"

He huffs out camp fire smelling smoke from his skull and leans up into a seated position. The change in position makes his cock adjust and you moan softly at the feeling while grasping his large biceps.

"You've got jokes."

He looks down at you, you try to read his expression but it's really hard when his hands are massaging your hips so nicely and his cock is touching new spots inside you making your head all fuzzy. He smoothly lifts your thighs and flips you both over so that you're laying on your back and he's hovering above you.

It's such a glorious sight. This massive sexy otherworldly creature staring down at you with such lust. You can't stop yourself from pulling him in closer by the back of his neck and mumbling,

"Do demons kiss?"

The demon huffs again and opens his jaw showing his razor sharp teeth, from the darkness behind the skull comes three appendages, long and wet. Those are his tongues, and you moan a little when you realise that. He leans closer and the prehensile tongues worm their way to your mouth where you greet them, mouth ready and open. All three appendages slip into your mouth to explore and rub against your tongue, it's so messy and gross it makes you clench around his cock.

He grunts and thrusts into you, thrusting his tongues deeper into your mouth making you gag. You stick your head in his open maw, pulling him in closer by his thick horns. You take the tongues with vigor and suck on them like you would a cock. He seems to like this quite a bit as he grabs both your legs and pulls your knees up to your ears, bending you in half and presenting your dripping pussy to him. He starts thrusting his cock much deeper in your pussy than before while thrusting his tongues down your throat simultaneously.

The pleasure is so intense as he gradually speeds up, working up to a brutal pace. He fucks you into the floor, so deep, so good. It's so animalistic it makes you go feral. He tongue fucks your throat with fever, his dangerous maw wide open. Knowing that he could tear your flesh easily if he just closed his jaws around your head turns you on an unthinkable amount as you take his tongues deeper down your already full throat.

You want him deeper in your throat even as you choke and gag. You want him deeper in your pussy even as he pounds you raw and hard, reaching so deep he kisses your cervix. Your brain is mush and your thighs burn, you scratch and claw his back for some kind of grounding as you quickly reach your peak again.

He wraps his arms under your thighs and around your back to lift you up and squeeze you against his hot body. He pounds you even harder now with gravity on his side, forcing you down on his cock as he thrusts up in time.

Suddenly your body gets hot, he gets hot. His hold is like a hot vice and you struggle against it on instinct but he just holds you tighter. You almost scream when you feel a red hot flash in every artery and vein in your body. The heat is gone just as quickly as it came and you sigh in relief before looking up at him in shock when you suddenly realise what he just did.

His tongues leaves your mouth suddenly as he cums hard, groaning loudly as he fucks his seed deeper into your already soaked cunt. With your mouth free you groan like an snimal, tongue out, tears streaking down your face, spit running down your neck. You soak up the feeling of being folded in half and filled to the fucking brim by this demonic beast.

Your moans mix in the hot air between you. His cum is so thick and hot inside you, filling you up once again. You're so full you can't contain it all as it pours out of you and onto the floor. He gives a few slow, deep thrusts, milking his cock with your tight pussy as you lay limply in his hold.

You sit on the floor for a few minutes holding each other close and catching your breath. He nuzzles his head into your sweaty neck and moves your body into a more relaxed position so that he's hugging around your waist and your legs rest around his torso. You feel each other for a moment, his cock still plugging up your messy cunt. Hes quiet, like he's thinking about something. You're not sure you can even speak but if you could you don't really know what you would say.

He leans back to look at your face, you realise you probably look an absolute mess, tear streaked face with spit all over your mouth and chin. He looks into your eyes like he's looking for something specific and you look back into his two small flames. He slightly nods and then holds you close to his chest once more, enveloping you with his body.

He accepted the pact proposal.

You let out a breathless laugh and lean up to place wet kisses all over his skull head.

He growls low and irritable like a cat.

"That's not necessary."

He grumbles like he's annoyed but doesn't move away from you as you give a few more kisses along his jaw. His tail swishes idly behind him.

"Well neither was fucking me. Twice."

You tease him while reaching for your discarded hat and plopping it back on your head. You shakily stand up on wobbly legs, he holds his hands out to your hips to stabilise you. Cum drips out of your cunt and his gaze is drawn to where it oozes down your thighs.

"Not that I'm complaining."

You balance yourself with your hands on his shoulders and clear your throat, trying to seem a little put together as he stares up at you. You very casually lift your leg to rest it on his shoulder, presenting your puffy, dripping cunt to him.

"Are you the fuck and leave type or do you stay for the cleanup? "

The demon chuckles and opens his maw again, wet tongues slipping out and reaching for you, licking up your cum covered thighs and up to the source of the mess.

You're both going to make very good use of this pact.

[duke-daemon]

hazbin hotel redesigns wooooooooo

okay so. i'm gonna discuss my thoughts about them n shit, putting under a readmore bc it's gonna get long and rambley. sorry in advance for the shit formatting, i'm on mobile </3

just some general shit about how i would rewrite it. i think the premise of redeeming sinners is entertaining but is executed horribly. i also am a fan of the "heaven isn't great either" idea but again, executed horribly. i'd make the hierarchy of angels more accurate because it's cool as hell and i have autism about it. the characters from hell would swear still (albeit not as much), but the angels would outright refuse to swear or make vulgar jokes ever. this would be partially to further the gap between heaven and hell and make the differences more stark.

hell would also be more like dante's inferno (again because i think its cool). the ars goetia would get a full redesign and would be more prevalent in demonic society.

now for the characters!

---

VAGGIE VALTIEL:

starting off with vaggie, or Valtiel as i've renamed her because let's be honest her original name sucks. Valtiel (Val for short) was an aspiring power angel who wanted to be an exorcist. she looked up to lute and thought the idea of killing demons was really cool and badass. however when she actually was on the field for the first time she discovered how awful this actually was. she tried to help a few demons but lute figured it out and felled her right then and there. the rest of her story is relatively the same. personality wise she's more stoic and less prone to all-out aggression. she still get angry, sure, but it's in a quieter and more menacing way. you DO NOT want to fuck with Valtiel.

CHARLIE:

next up is charlie! i had two ideas for her. the first one (unsettling drawing) has her as a mannequin/doll type demon. lucifer and/or lilith was unable to conceive and as such they built a kid from scratch. she's overall similar to og charlie personality wise, very kind and cheerful despite her unsettling appearance. she struggles with empathy sometimes but really does mean well. her motive for rehabilitating sinners is so they get to see their family again. being able to see heaven from where they are in hell must make them sad, so she wants to help make them happy again!

the second idea for charlie has her as an angel. specifically i casted her as a dominion angel due to their reputation as holy judges. she was once a demon but has been rehabilitated and has risen into angelhood! she now wants to help her former kin do the same and redeem themselves in heaven's gaze. again, similar cheery personality, but a bit more prudish in this rendition

tangent time!

as a side tangent, valtiel and charlie would have a different relationship in this rewrite. their relationship felt shoehorned in in the original show, like it was just there for the hell of it. we didn't see much development between them and it just felt kinda bland. so in my rewrite, charlie and valtiel are amiable exes. they tried dating when valtiel first fell (when charlie was still a demon in the charlie-angel version) but realized their feelings for each other were much more platonic than romantic. they ended things off on good terms, deciding they were much better as friends. they are still besties to this day! later charlie ends up with emily (or 'ellie' as i plan to rename her)

back to the characters

Alastor:

note: i made alastor mixed-race, which could be seen as bad by some due to vivzie saying he's black. however, as many have pointed out, he has no ethnic features whatsoever and i honestly wouldn't be surprised if she said that just to get away with using voodoo symbols (a closed religion) in his imagery/design. like viv, i am incredibly white and have little to no knowledge of voodoo, and even if i did i would not use it for something like this anyways due to the stigma the religion already has and (again) it being a closed practice. as such i removed it from his concept altogether, but made him mixed race (white passing) because.. why not i guess, i forgor my actual reasoning

with that being said...

alastor is by far my favorite of the redesigns and i'm honestly tempted to turn him into a legally distinct oc. i imagine he's somewhat reserved, along the lines of norman bates albeit a bit more extroverted. during his life he was a serial killer with a day job as a radio announcer. he took pleasure in reporting about his own murders on the radio, but that is eventually what got him caught (ie accidentally letting slip info that wasn't released to the public). as a result he was sentenced to death. upon arriving in hell, he quickly rose through the ranks to borderline overlord status and is a feared presence by demons and sinners alike. why is he bothering to assist in the hotel project? who knows... his motives are a mystery, like the rest of what he does

(he isn't actually alastair crowley i just thought the naming convention was ironic. however he may have also dabbled with satanic magic in lifetime..)

Angel Dust:

TW: brief discussion of SA

this is definitely my second favorite redesign. i loooove insect themes and wanted to do more than just Extra Arms, so he now has fucked up legs and a lot of eyes too! story-wise, angel used to be a criminal mastermind, hated by both the mafia and the feds. he was a gentleman thief, arranging massive heists under the cover of night while also partaking in the occasional drag show. he ended up a cocaine addict later in life, which caused his work to become sloppier. eventually he was killed in a heist gone wrong, specifically shot by the police.

i'm not gonna go too in-depth on the SA part of his story, but he is hypersexual due to being assaulted in both his life and afterlife. it would be something he'd be working on in the rewrite. his reason for coming to the hotel in the first place may have even been for help with this trauma. underneath his sultry exterior is a broken guy who really just needs someone to care about him for who he really is and not for what his body can do.

LUTE:

so lute and adam are some of the characters i have the most gripes about. the biggest one being why viv chose adam as the leader of the exorcists in the first place. if she wants a biblical figure tied to demon killing, Archangel Michael is RIGHT THERE, aka the one destined to kill satan during the events of Revelations. if she wants the first human to die, that would be Abel, not Adam. and i kinda doubt abel would want to do the stuff that HH!adam has been doing. if she wants an angel related to torture, Dumah is her guy! an angel that rules over wicked souls and tortures sinners every day except sabbath. so many better options...

with that out of the way, Lute is still the lieutenant of the exorcist, who are a specially chosen group of powers sent to purge hell once a year. think navy seals. she's pretty much the same as in the show, albeit more muscular and visually different from other exorcists (seriously why do they all look exactly the same?????) she's a very repressed lesbian who hasn't had time to work on that due to her duties

i also redesigned the exorcist uniform/armor because those LED purge masks are fugly as hell and their clothes don't even look remotely like armor.

Adam + Final Thoughts

i did start a redesign of adam but got bored of it. regardless, i think he'd be the head of C.H.E.R.U.B. instead of the exorcists. he doesn't want his children to make the same mistakes he and eve did, so together they started C.H.E.R.U.B. to help lost souls stay out of hell

final thoughts uhhhh i'm tired. show sucks, it had so much potential but viv ruined it by being a shitty writer and an even shittier person. the designs are fine i guess but they all look exactly the same and are in desperate need of variety. the humor is dogshit, saying dick and balls and penis over and over and over again doesn't make it any funnier than the first three times you made that joke. anyways that's it, i hope you liked my inane ramblings. gonna go vanish for another forty years or so, adios

[fourmoony]

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐓: Chapter One.

After breaking your ankle in the wake of a break up, you're determined to get through your senior year without any interference from James Potter. That is, until his loyalty to loose cannon Sirius Black lands him straight in your lap. Or, rather, your kiddie-skate group.

CW: Language, mentions of broken bones, blood, physical violence.

I can't believe it's finally here. Enjoy, lovelies :)

James Potter

There’s five minutes left in the final period. Gryffindor are down by one and James refuses to start the season on a loss. He’d settle for a draw. But he will not allow his team to lose to Slytherin. Call him superstitious but losing the first game of the season is a grey cloud of doom that will follow them all year long and there’s nothing James Potter wants more than to bring Gryffindor to their fourth frozen four win in a row. Especially in his first year as captain. So, call him hell bent. James prefers motivated, competitive.

They’re due a line change. Sirius is losing steam and Remus has been favouring his left skate a little too much for James’ liking. Five seconds and the juniors will switch them out. But James has the puck, is trying to keep Mulciber as far away from his coat tails as possible, but Sirius can’t keep up. His eyes are on Remus, further up the ice, chasing Snape who’s making a break directly for James.

James bangs his stick against the ice, calls Sirius’ name. But it’s too late. Mulciber’s stick collides with the side of his skate at the same time Remus and Snape crash into him from the front. It’s an illegal play and the Slytherin’s know it. But it doesn’t stop the yell Snape lets out the minute he’s back on the ice, demanding the ref penalise Remus for shoving him into James. Sirius is there in a second, gloves dropped to the ice and his fingers curled around Snape’s cage. “That was illegal, and you know it, Snivellus.” Sirius grits out, pushing the Slytherin player back by his head.

Snape tumbles, the ref watches closely. James’ eyes fly to the board. They’re about to line change, the buzzer has paused, but if Sirius doesn’t play this right, he’ll still be in the sin bin by the time the buzzer goes. They need him for that final minute. “Pads, relax.” James warns his best friend.

Sirius Black is notorious for being The Loose Canon of the NCAA. It’s a strength and a weakness, James supposes. A lot of the lesser teams in the league give him a wide berth when playing Gryffindor. Between Sirius, Remus, and James, they have their routine for winning down-pat. But with Slytherin, it’s always a coin toss. They know how to rile Sirius, have him bench riding for the majority of the game. It’s what they’re doing now. James realises he might’ve been the one to get floored by Snape and Mulciber, but that attack was aimed specifically at Sirius.

Sirius who was supposed to be protecting James. Sirius who was too busy looking at Remus.

“Should’ve been keeping a better eye on your captain, Black.” Mulciber antagonises. His smirk is knowing, goading. James sighs and accepts his fate a mere second before Sirius is on Mulciber, helmet skittering across the ice.

There’s an evil crack from Mulciber’s nose. Blood seeping over the white ice like some sort of sick omen for the rest of the season. James looks around him, watches as the rest of the Slytherin’s approach, locks eyes with Remus. There’s an understanding there. They’re fucked. Royally. So, they might as well give Sirius a hand. James screws his eyes shut, gives himself a single second to prepare for the reaming Coach Moody is going to give him, then grabs Severus Snape, Slytherin captain, by the neckline of his jersey and punches him so hard he crumples to the ice like an empty water bottle.

The ref blows the whistle repeatedly, the team members on each bench cheer and bang their sticks against the boards. The crowd roars. And while James registers this is definitely not how he wanted the season to begin – fighting off Slytherin’s because of Sirius Black’s short fuse temper – he’s still so glad to be fucking back.

Alistor Moody isn’t a pleasant man to look at. He’s burly, with thin strands of straw-coloured hair and a glass eye that seems to swivel of its own accord. As though it’s come loose. The rumour is that the captain of his high school’s rival hockey team jabbed his stick into Moody’s eye. He lost his scholarship, his career, and he’s been living up to his name’s sake ever since. The man is moody. An old grump who James looks up to because his experience and no-excuses-attitude have helped James’ team win three Frozen Four trophies. So, the idea of letting him down sits heavy on his chest. Regardless of his loyalty to Sirius, he regrets punching Snape in the face.

If only because his coach hasn’t stopped screaming for twenty straight minutes and James really needs to get to his Econ class. Moody hadn’t said anything after the game. Had been unnervingly quiet and the anxiety of such a reaction from him has sat heavy in James’ chest ever since. He’d known this was coming. But he wishes he’d had more time to prepare. Or, at the very least, warn Professor Flitwick that he’d be late.

Sirius is nonplussed. Has been since the fight. It should irk James. Should annoy him that they’re seniors and Sirius is still pulling the same shit he’s been pulling since they were in little leagues. But he cuts him the slack he needs. Always has. Always will. Sirius isn’t as simple as most people think he is. He comes from a shitty home with even shittier parents and a shitty fucking past. So, he’s quick to anger? James allows it because it’s how Sirius copes. But he’s really over the reaming it’s landed him from Moody.

“I’m serious, this shit ends now.” Moody points a finger at them. Sirius sniggers into his fist. A tale as old as time, that he’d laugh at such a sentence. Their coach chooses to ignore it, carries on with a defeated sigh. “Dumbledore wanted you benched for the season. I talked him down to community service.”

“That’s bullshit.” Sirius’ voice sounds bored, and James knows he’s already coming up with a million ways to avoid doing such a thing.

“No, Black. What’s bullshit is that you’re still pulling this shit as a fucking senior. You’re meant to be setting an example to the freshmen! And you’re starting fights for no goddamn reason.” Moody slams a fat hand down on the desk and James flinches.

Community service of any kind is a hockey player’s worst nightmare. Especially at their level. They spend all their lives training, have barely any social life, and the time that they are allocated to actually have a life, now belongs to whatever sad sack community outreach programme needs their help. It’s bullshit, Sirius is right. But James doesn’t feel in any sort of position to argue with Moody, not when there’s the threat of a suspension on the line.

“The snakes started it! Mulciber could’ve broke James’ leg with that swipe.”

Sirius has always been someone to argue with authority. James admires his passion, but it’s clear they’re not getting out of this. Moody confirms his thoughts with a plain, “Regardless. You threw the first punch in an illegal fight. Started an all-out brawl. Your community service leaders will complete a sign in sheet each week. You miss a session; you’re benched at that week’s game.”

James allows himself to let out a long, suffering sigh. He’d started his senior year determined to actually put effort into his degree, as well as his captaincy. Now, he’s unsure how he’s going to balance everything. Fucking Sirius. “What’s the damage, then?” He asks.

The grin Alistor Moody gives Sirius and James is nothing short of pure evil. He’s cynical. James’ stomach sinks. “Black, you’re headed to the library. There’s a student writing a thesis paper, needs help citing books and the likes. You’ll help with that on Tuesday afternoons and Thursday evenings.”

Sirius slumps in his seat, unimpressed. “Fun.”

“Potter, you’re co-coaching mini-skate. Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings.” There’s something in Moody’s voice. Like he already knows what James’ reaction is going to be, that he feels somewhat guilty about it.

The room spins, James feels like he’s going to throw up. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his heart races. Even Sirius sits up in his seat, eyes wide.

“Moody you can’t make him do that. Let us switch.” Sirius begs as he leans forward.

The coach winces. “I tried. Dumbledore chose them specifically for each of you. I’m sorry.”

James’ mouth is too dry to talk. Not that he can think of any words to say, anyway. All he can think of is you. Your face when you find out who your new co-coach is. The way your heart will probably plummet like his did. He feels nauseous, too warm, too cold, he’s not sure. Last he saw you, you were crying in the passenger seat of his car, telling him how much you hated him. How you never wanted to see him again. He can’t say he blames you. The thing about James is that he’s an idiot. He doesn’t think things through. Lives in the moment, acts before he thinks because it’s what his hockey obsessed brain is trained to do. He ruined your trust and broke your heart because he’s an idiot. And now you’re being forced to co-coach with him.

He stands abruptly, excuses himself into the hallway outside Moody’s office. Let’s the cool wall press against his too warm back, slams his head against the concrete. Sirius closes the door behind him, toe tapping anxiously against the linoleum. “Good?” He asks.

“Next time you start a fight, Sirius, remember this moment. Remember how uncomfortable this is going to make her. Remember that I can’t not be your back up. You’re my best friend and I’ll always have your back, no questions asked. But this? Please don’t put me in this position again.” James tells Sirius.

Then, he turns and walks away. Down the hall, out of the sports administration building and towards his truck. All the while thinking about how much of a fucking idiot he is.

Sirius Black

Remus is running late. Not that Sirius minds, he’s grateful for the time alone. The time to think, to get his head straight. To digest James’ words. His best friend, his captain. He let him down epically and he regrets it. He wishes he hadn’t, but it’s not like he can help it. There’s something wrong with him. With the way his brain is wired. It’s the in the blood that runs through his veins, that dark and twisted Black temper. It’s a grey cloud over him, the itch in his bones. It never falters, never dulls. He’s so angry all of the time, always on edge.

He wishes he weren’t. He’s trying not to be so much of a fucking mess. It’s hard. To shake that darkness when it’s surrounded him so wholly for a lot of his life. He wants to be better, to do better. But there was something in Mulciber’s words at the game. An insinuation that made Sirius’ skin burn. He doesn’t want to dissect it yet. Maybe he’s not ready to. But he does know that if he doesn’t get his act together, he’s going to go from the NCAA’s biggest loose cannon to the NHL’s biggest loose cannon, and the Cannon’s will kick him faster than he can skate a lap. The irony isn’t lost on him, with that one.

Sirius catches sight of Remus weaving his way through the car park and starts his car’s engine. He’s trying not to show his limp. But whether Sirius wants to look into it or not, he’s acutely aware of how much he notices everything about Remus Lupin. He’s point zero for Sirius. He’s always tuned into him. Notices all of his winces, all of his tics, his moods. Even when they’re not obvious. It’s always been that way. Sometimes Sirius wonders if they share a brain simply because he acts without even having to think. Will grab the ice pack for Remus before he asks, turns the heat up on the heating pads without any comment from Remus. Knows if Remus hasn’t taken his medicine, knows when he’s in pain. It’s like a sixth sense.

He tries not to think about it, too much.

Sirius leans over and opens the door for Remus before his fingers can even brush the handle. He smiles as he climbs into the car, sets his backpack on the floor at his feet. Sirius’ heart returns to a normal pace. A pace he wasn’t even aware was missing until Remus got into the car, a peaceful thrum of his heart. “Doctor Holme said Hey.”

“How is my favourite Doctor?” Sirius asks as he pulls out of his parking space. He’s never met Doctor Holme, but he communicates with her solely through Remus on the days he picks him up from his weekly check-ups.

“Adamant I’m going to need a knee replacement if I don’t cool it with the extra training hours that I’ve been putting in.” Remus grumbles, eyes following the ramp onto the highway as it speeds past.

There’s a lot of pressure on Remus. He was an early draft, before he even really left high school. He’s a record holder. A big hockey name. Chosen before the full extent of such a demanding career took its toll on his body. Since freshman year, Remus’ muscle mass has deteriorated. He won’t have as long of a career as the average person in the NHL, but he’s determined to have what he can. Lately, it’s not looking like much. Not that Remus will tell Sirius exactly how bad it is. No, everything Sirius knows, he knows through observation. Or Lily.

It’s not in Sirius’ nature to let other people’s lives affect his own. But he’s noticed that the idea of Remus’ illness getting worse makes his chest feel tight and his brain kick into problem solving mode. There are many open tabs on his laptop outlining rehabilitation therapy options, bone marrow transplants, clinical trials. If Remus saw them, he’d go crazy. He prefers to live in denial. It’s the bane of Sirius’ existence.

“He might have a point.” Sirius tells Remus as he flicks his blinker on, merges onto the highway.

St Mungo’s hospital is twenty minutes out from Hogwarts but it’s the best hospital within a hundred miles. So, Sirius drives Remus back and forth to his appointments when he can. When he can’t, James takes him. Or Lily. It’s an unspoken agreement between the four of them. Remus had once tried to hide his appointments from them. It hadn’t ended well.

Remus scoffs. “I know he has a point, Padfoot. But if I’m not at the top of my game next year, how is that going to look?”

There’s an edge to Remus’ voice that alerts Sirius to danger. They’re similar, in a lot of ways. Nasty tempers and even nastier words. Except, Remus keeps his temper off the ice. Sirius has no control over his.

“Moody gave us community service.” Sirius switches the subject with ease as he switches into the lane closest to the exit ramp for Hogwarts.

“James told me, yeah.” Remus nods, shifting to face Sirius.

He swallows thickly. Of course, James called Remus after their meeting this morning. Of course, he needed someone to talk it through with. A reasonable source of advice. Because Sirius is aware he has no advice of value for the situation James finds himself in. The situation Sirius put him in.

“I feel like shit. He looked like a kicked puppy.” Sirius hates letting James down. Sure, he’s his captain and that should be enough. But James is Sirius’ best friend. His soul mate, his safe space. The person he’s been running to since he could run. James is strong and safe, he’s loyal down to his fucking bones. What had Sirius expected when he started that fight? For James to watch it happen?

He should have known. After all this time, he should have fucking known.

“James is a big boy; he knew the consequences when he punched Snape.” Remus speaks softly to Sirius. Like he knows the shame spiral he’s in and wants to help pull him out. James isn’t the only protector Sirius knows.

Where James is fair in his protectiveness, Remus often throws caution to the wind. He’s fierce in his loyalty. Sometimes to a fault. Like Sirius.

“You know James as well as I do. I jump, he jumps.” Sirius sighs, defeated. “I should have let it go. I knew they were trying to get me on the bench, and I still let them get to me.”

Remus hums, nods his head in a fair agreement. Sirius looks over at him for a second. Just one second before his eyes return to the road. His eyes are sweet and understanding. A sticky honey colour that Sirius finds he likes a lot.

“Maybe.” Remus mumbles, fingers reaching up to rub at the scar above his lip. A tic. A nervous one, born from Sirius’ eyes on him.

Sirius laughs. “Maybe?”

Remus laughs too, head tilted back, and the sound is so light and easy it breathes fresh life into Sirius’ lungs. Lifts the residual anxiety sitting heavy in his chest as they pull up to the house. “Okay,” He breathes, “You definitely should have walked away from that fight. But you didn’t. So now you just have to get on with it.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” He looks over at Remus.

Remus smiles. It’s quick and fleeting, a smile that Sirius knows is reserved only for him. It warms his cheeks as he smiles back.

“You want dinner?” Remus asks as they pull into the empty drive.

James isn’t home, his parking space void of his stupidly oversized truck.

“Depends, what’re you making?” Sirius grabs Remus’ bag from the footwell, climbs out of the car.

Remus laughs, “A phone call. For pizza.”

Sirius moans from behind Remus, who’s fumbling with his keys for the front door, “You know how to talk dirty to me, Moony.”

Remus scoffs, “You couldn’t handle my dirty talk, Black.”

And, well. Sirius doesn’t think he has an answer for that.

You

You shouldn’t be surprised, in all honesty. You’ve been expecting him to attempt some sort of damage control since you’d spoken to Madame Pince, this morning. That conversation had gone over like a lead balloon; the exact reason you’re still skating. Two hours after your training ended. Even though the Zamboni guy is giving you a look suitable to someone who kicked his cat. Even though your ankle is throbbing, and Medic Pomfrey would chastise you for not taking a break. You’re technically not out of the woods yet, as she likes to remind you every chance she gets. Your ankle might be healed but you still have a lifetime of physiotherapy, it feels.

Skating is an out. It’s peace. Makes you feel free, like flying. It’s rare, these days, to skate for fun. For the enjoyment of the feeling that it gives you. You’ve been skating since you could walk. Competing since the minute you were old enough, talented enough. Eventually, skating for fun became a rarity. You love the sport with every bit of your beating heart. But it’s nice to stop the constant ebb and flow of anxiety, of competitiveness, and just exist on the ice.

James is sitting on the team benches, watching. There’s a sadness to him that you’d like to punch from his stupidly handsome face. So, you ignore him. Keep to the far side of the ice until your ankle is screaming at you to stop. James stands when you approach the bench, hands your water bottle over the board. It weighs heavy on you, the feeling of normalcy that such an action would once hold. It feels like an age ago that he would watch your practices, cheer for you even when he was the only one in the crowd. You snatch the bottle from his hand, take a drink while you wait for him to say something.

“Pince told you.” He states. There’s a hesitance on his face, readable in his body language. He’s flighty, unsure of how you’re going to react.

You hate that he’s unsure of how to act around you. Hate even more that it’s warranted. You’ve changed, over the summer. Made promises to yourself that no one will ever make you feel the way James made you feel, ever again. That breakup cost you nationals, last year. The heartache was a distraction. One that could have cost you your career. You refuse to let it happen again.

“She did. You’re here to do damage control, right? Tell me that you didn’t get to choose your community service. Tell me that Sirius started that fight, and you had no choice but to finish it. That you’re sorry, that you don’t want to make me uncomfortable. If you’re feeling extra sorry for yourself, you might even offer to take the suspension if it makes me more comfortable. That sound right?” You ask, face bored, arms crossed.

Hurt flashes in James’ eyes. Big and hazel coloured and stupidly kind, even now. “Sounds right, yeah.” His voice is thick, quiet.

James is usually the loudest voice in the room. Filled with laughter and a boyish charm that sunk it’s hooks into you and never quite let go. It’s odd, to hear him so quiet.

“Save it. Be on time, on Wednesday. We’ll figure it out as we go.” You tell him, gesturing for him to pass you your skate guards.

He does, wordlessly. Let’s you put them on and pass him through the box. You’re almost out of the plastic rink door when he calls after you. Every bone in your body tells you to keep walking, that nothing good will come from the desperation in his voice, the plea of your name. But you stop, turn. His gaze is burning, creates a lump in your throat that feels impossible to swallow. Your skin itches, your eyes water. The thing is, it’s still fresh. It’s easy to tell yourself that James is a person of your past when he’s not standing in front of you looking like a kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry. For everything.” He speaks.

“No, James,” You sigh, “You’re sorry that you feel like shit.”

He doesn’t respond. Looks like maybe the words have gotten lost in his throat. So, you leave him there, wet, hot tears falling down your cheeks the minute you’re gone from his line of vision. He doesn’t call after you, this time.  

And you hate the small part of you that wishes he would.

Lily is at the kitchen table when you find her. Not that it takes you long. Your apartment is the size of a shoe box, the maximum you could afford as close to campus as it is. It’s a mismatch of your décor and Lily’s, an eclectic mix that somehow works. There are books crammed on every surface, picture frames on every wall, odd, contrasting ornaments collected over the years. It’s a home, despite its small nature. A safe space where you can both leave the stress of your chosen careers at the door. Rare, is that the case, though.

Your skates thud against Lily’s recent thrift shop find; a cream and maroon rug that you’d call nothing short of an atrocity. The red head looks up from her laptop at the noise, blue light glasses halfway down her freckled nose. There are papers, pens, books, and cups of tea scattered all around her like some sort of tornado passed through the apartment. She, at least, looks apologetic about the mess. There’s no need, though. You’re both aware of the stress Lily is under this year.

“Have you eaten?” You ask, collecting the discarded mugs from around her and placing them in the sink.

Lily thanks you but shakes her head. She’s prone to forgetting she’s human and, in fact, needs food to survive. If she could, she’d survive off of tea and coffee, alone. You flick the kettle on to boil, pull a fresh mug from the cupboard. It’s one of Lily’s finds, a quirky handmade mug covered in oddly painted strawberries. She has a soft spot for the odd finds, the things someone once loved and then left to rot in the back of a thrift store. You think she should investigate that, psychologically. Lily claims she will, just when she has a spare minute.

“You want a sandwich and some chips? Something that won’t go cold when you inevitably forget it exists for three hours.” You offer, throwing a decaf tea bag into the strawberry mug and praying your best friend won’t notice.

“You’re so good to me. Yes, thank you.”

“Oh, I know.” You smile.

Lily doesn’t say much during the first couple bites of her sandwich. Judging on how it goes the opposite of forgotten, you assume she hasn’t eaten all day. If this is her at the beginning of the semester, you dread to see her during finals.

Her laptop discarded to the side; she picks at her chips. “Remus called a little while ago.” Her voice is laden with guilt.

You sigh, push your half empty plate towards one of her discarded textbooks. “Let me guess, it was a welfare check.”

Lily scoffs. “More like an SOS call. He wanted to know how mad you are at him. Told him you were a couple hours late home from practice so, like, astronomically mad.”

“Not at him.” You protest, rather childishly.

“No, not at him. I told him as much. You know what he’s like. He worries. He’s trying to balance it all. We all are.” Lily tells you softly, a crooked smile that reassures you she’s not mad about having to do it.

You wish things weren’t as awkward as they seem to be, currently. Lily and Remus grew up together, much like Sirius and James. Remus knowing both Lily and James is how you met your ex-boyfriend. You were a group. Close knit as can be. And you’re all still trying to figure out how to navigate that now things have changed. It’s exactly what you feared when you and James started dating. It was silly to believe his promise that nothing would ever change. That you’d never lose him.

Lily reaches a hand across the table, freckled fingers wiggling until you place your hand in hers. Her eyes soften, head nodding to show she’s listening.

“He came to the rink.” You tell her.

Surprise passes across her face. “Is that why you were so late?”

“No,” You shake your head. “No, he came right as I was leaving. Was planning on taking the suspension if it meant I’d be more comfortable and wouldn’t have to coach with him.”

Lily scoffs, “Classic James.”

You nod in agreement. For all James is an idiot who doesn’t think things through, he’s incredibly selfless. You think that’s why your breakup hurts so much. Because you want to hate him, it’d be so easy to hate him. But he’s a genuinely good guy who sometimes fucks up.

“I wish he’d stop putting everyone else first. Sirius flies off the handle and James chases right after him like he’ll die if he doesn’t. And I get it, he feels responsible for Sirius. It’s complicated. But I wish he’d just let Sirius deal with his shit on his own, for once.” You feel guilty for saying it as soon as you do, but you know Lily gets it.

Everyone does. Even Sirius.

His past is mostly privy between James and Sirius. But you know the gist.

“I know. They won’t get away with that shit in the League.” Lily agrees.

You sigh, long and suffering. It’s not your problem. At least, it shouldn’t be. If the fight that started this hadn’t landed James right in your lap and made it your problem.

“What’re you working on?” You ask, “Anything I can help with?”

Lily chuckles lightly, hands you a heavy stack of paper. “You could highlight all the paragraphs detailing anything to do with cell breakdown. But be warned, it’ll bore the shit out of you.”

You shrug, reaching over to grab Lily’s standard green highlighter. It’s her signature. Like Banksy. “A welcomed distraction, Lils.”

“Fair enough.”

And you both get to work.

[thegnomelord]

What about Monster!AU for prompt 5. Male reader and price please :)

Sure thing anon, made it a mage reader again, was trying to study for a 'lovely' surprise test but inspiration decided to strike me :/. Play the game HERE

Prompt: “My feelings aren’t real and my heart’s a fucking idiot.”

CW:NSFW, switch/power bottom Dragon Price, Male Mage reader, Oral, Anal, shower sex, semi public sex, reader is oblivious for a bit.

Price swears his hair and scales are going to go completely gray because of you.

You've been avoiding him for a week now, and all the base knows why — Price can still hear your desperate voice begging and bargaining with whatever will listen "I'll buy you dinner please-just stay alive- I love you- damn it you slimy bastard don't you dare die on me-" as you try to keep him alive, magic flowing from your arms to heal the gaping hole in his side despite the bullets raining overhead; a valiant knight protecting him like he's a prince instead of a dragon.

And Price can remember the way his heart had fluttered at your words, at the way you had hugged him so firmly to keep him safe as your magic raged all around you like a wild force of nature, at the way you looked at him so tenderly— eyes burning with mana like the gaze of a god he's your most prized possession —right before the blood loss made him black out.

But now that Price was out of the hospital, his side permanently marked with your magic and a hefty load of paperwork on his desk, you were acting like you never said anything. Anytime someone brings it up you just ignore them, ignore him, throwing yourself into training as much as you can. And it's getting on his nerves, his draconic blood making anger and malcontent burn in his bones because you'd looked at him like a mate but now it's like he doesn't exist beyond training and missions.

He knows it's against the rules, knows he shouldn't hope for much when he sets out to find you, but he does. It's not hard; though his sensitive nose easily picks up the stench of magic, it's the lingering mana burrowed into his skin that tugs him in a direction, even the foreign parts of him wanting you. He finds you alone in the training room, the ground around you scorched beyond hell.

"We need ta' talk lad." Price rumbles as he closes the door behind him, the deep thrum of his voice hiding the anxious pressure he feels in his chest.

Your head whips to look at him. Price cherishes the way your eyes soften when you see him like a glittering gem. Then a sea of ice settles over your eyes, and you turn your head back to the target dummy as if looking at Price makes you sick. "Nothing to talk about captain."

"That so?" Price asks like he doesn't believe you, because he doesn't. Ancient instincts tug on his mind and he follows them. You know he knows what's plaguing your mind, both of you are aware of the elephant in the room and Price can see the way your shoulders progressively tense as he draws near. But you're a stubborn fool, you refuse to show how his presence makes your heart beat faster despite how each of his steps rings like a gunshot in your ears.

Your mind fails to conjure up words but you force an "Hmh," out of your throat, trying to ignore how Price is so close to you, the heat of his body radiating into yours. His remaining wing stretches out, scales and leathery membranes barely brushing over your shoulder, but the intent is clear; the claim is clear.

You try to ignore him, ignore yourself, clinging to the sensation of your sharp mana digging into your veins as you summon another bout of magic to shoot at the training dummy, whisps of formless energy quickly forming into your preferred element.

His hand settles on your hip, not enough to make you loose focus just yet. "Because last ah remember," He leans in closer, the smell of black coffee and cigars on his breath. This close he can smell you instead of your magic, his chest rumbling against your back with a happy purr. "you promised me dinner if I lived."

You nearly choke on air, your magic sputtering out like an old car engine. "I-" You whirl around, your noses almost touching from how close you are. "-that's not what I'd meant!"

His heart should break at that, but before it can his sensitive ears pick up how rapidly your heart's pounding in your chest, reptilian eyes noting how you're flushed more than usual, breathing rapidly without even noticing it.

"Really now?" That greedy part in his bones urges him on, begging and pleading for him to just take you. His other hand settles on your shoulder, keeping you in place, close to him just like he wants. "Then ah suppose all that 'bout me bein' a slimy bastard was also not true?"

You want to flinch away but can't, your own body a traitor to you, a deep frown tugging on your lips. "Price, I wasn't-"

"And-" He cuts you off by leaning even closer, his forehead resting against yours and fuck, your head fits perfectly between his horns, like you belong there. "-I must've misheard you when you said you loved me?" He raises an eyebrow, voice both teasing and serious, holding his breath.

Just that small contact of skin on skin has your resolve crumbling like sand, "Listen, just-" You suck in a sharp breath, the situation both bliss and hell for you. “My feelings aren’t real and my heart’s a fucking idiot. Okay? And just-" You try to stammer the same lies you'd tell yourself every time you'd catch yourself thinking of him more than just your captain (which was way too often).

Price's clawed hand grips your chin and manually closes your mouth, his smooth scales cool against your warm body. You forget to breathe, your eyes flickering all over his face as he smirks, voice deep and guttural like the rumble of moving tectonic plates. "Then I'm an idiot too."

The world goes completely silent as he kisses you, holding your head still so he can claim your lips for himself, his deep purr shaking both of your chests when you submit so easily to him, like getting a gulp of fresh air after years of drowning.

You're so lost in his taste and his scent and just him you don't notice when Price roughly pulls you into the showers, tail and wing and arms holding your body; as if your brain could even conjure the thought of leaving. Bursts of awareness assault your mind every time you part for a breath and to displace a piece of clothing, his sharp claws tickling your skin as he can't wait and just cuts through your remaining clothes.

Clawed fingers grip your hair and tilt your head back, exposing your throat to sharp fangs and you submit easily, trusting him not to hurt you too much. Low sounds rumble in your throat as Price marks you, biting one spot until it bleeds your mana rich blood, greedily drinking up the crimson droplets and soothing the wound with his tongue just enough for the sting to become pleasant before biting again. Bite, lick, bite, lick, bite, lick— chest rumbling with satisfaction he pulls away, "Oh, look at you," He growls, your throat turned into a warzone, "So handsome, like a charming knight."

You snort and grip his hips, the water of the shower raining down the two of you. "Yeah?" You ask as you turn him around, pushing his chest against the wall as you drop to your knees. "Gonna let me lay you?" You ask, kissing down his spine, your rough hands groping and fondling his ass.

"Wanker," Price growls and lifts his tail, revealing his hole to you. You almost cum on the spot from the sight of it, looking every bit what you'd imagined he'd look like. But you don't get to look for long before his tail wraps around your throat, soft underbelly scales scraping against your bruised throat as he pulls you closer. "Only, if you prove your worth."

You don't need a formal invitation, pushing your tongue out as you slobber all over his hole, your hands keeping his asscheeks spread so you can worm your tongue into his hole, feeling him clench around your tongue, his moans ringing like angel song in your ears. His claws tangle in your hair, pushing your head even closer to worship him better. And you do, like a pious believer you lick and suck and nibble around his hole, your nose buried in the space between his ass and tail, barely able to breathe but it's a small price to pay.

Finally he grows greedy for more, his tail releases a fraction and he shoves you, making you fall back on your ass, your cock standing like a flagpole. You only manage to rise up on your elbows before Price jumps on you like the beast he is, thigh powerful thighs bracketing your own, his clawed fingers scraping against your skin as they settle on your shoudlers.

"Now then," Price rumbles like an ancient mountain, reptilian eyes hooded with lust. He feels on top of the world with the way you look at him, like a desperate mutt, your cock hard like a rock between his legs. "Stay still, mighty knight, an-" Price lifts himself up, positioning your cockhead at his puckered rim. "-relax."

The running water muffles your combined groans, his walls hot and tight like the fire in his chest. His weight bears down on you, wing stretching out in a show of pleasure, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he pants. "Fuck," Price growls, grinding his hips down into yours. "Feel so good, lad."

You grunt, your hands fitting on his hips like they always belonged there. Magic sparks across your arms as pleasure steadily erases your ability to think, but his thick scales keep him safe, a pleased groan leaving his chest as he starts bouncing on you, chasing his own pleasure. You can do nothing but hang on, your hips rising to meet his downward thrust, Price's lips swallowing your moans. You don't have enough sense in your head left to care if anyone was to come in and see you, your mind fully consumed by him.

You cum way too soon, your orgasm sneaking up to you, lightning rushing down your spine and magic sparking across your arms as your brain leaks out of your ears, shooting cum up into his greedy walls.

"Good- good lad." Price grinds his teeth, never stopping his bouncing, lewd sounds ringing through the showers from the way your cum squelches inside him. He rides you past the sting of overstimulation right back to hardness. His hand grabs yours, placing it over the scars on his abdomen where your magic had stitched him back together, greed and lust fueling his desires. "Protected me so good, yeah?" His hips never cease moving, that draconic endurance coming in handy to absolutely wrecking you. "Let me take care of you,"

And like a proper mate, you let him do as he pleases.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 9

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Brief mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy symptoms

A/N: Not quite as long as previous chapters but I digress.

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

You heard voices surrounding you, some loud and urgent while others almost whispered. You knew them, that was for certain but the stygian fog shrouding your consciousness forbade you from seeking information you knew you had. You were too tired to care, never even opening your eyes before you once again surrendered to oblivion. 

The second time you became aware, it was quick. Your eyes opened, a reflex to the fear that immediately took hold and had you trying to sit up. You didn’t get far. You were so weak; your arms refused to hold your weight. When you collapsed back onto the soft pillow, something in your right arm pinched. It didn’t exactly hurt, but it did draw your attention to the tubing running from the crook of your elbow up to a clear bag hanging from the bedpost. 

“You’re awake.”

Your head rolled to the left, wide eyes meeting the soft gaze of an older gentleman. The first thing you noticed was that he was so clean, dressed in a nice button-up and black trousers. His white hair was neatly combed and clearly cared after. Your confusion must have been distinctly written across your face because he went on with providing a little more detail. 

“My name is Hershel. You were brought here in quite the state, young lady. You were severely dehydrated. Quite honestly, I still fear that there may be some damage to your kidneys but we will just need to wait and see.”

You were still so tired. “Where the hell am I?” The man—- Hershel —-pinned you with a chastising stare but it disappeared just as quickly. 

“You’re in my home.”

You didn’t acknowledge the reply, adjusting your gaze to the ceiling. You didn’t remember much aside from the pain. 

And Daryl. 

Those eyes—blue like a mountain lake—had been brimming with concern; and then determination. He had brought you there. You knew he had to be terrified for—

“The baby!” You suddenly gasped, palms pressed hard over your stomach. “Is my baby okay?!”

Hershel was already holding up his hands in a placating gesture, nodding slowly. “I’m aware. Your husband filled me in on everything. Quite crudely, I might add.” 

You snorted weakly. “He’s not my husband.” 

Hershel’s gaze wandered over to the far side of the room, a low, steady hum emitting from behind closed lips. “I see. Well, in any case, I happen to have a POCUS machine here for use on the springing heifers. Now, I’m no medical doctor, but I was able to locate the fetus and a strong heartbeat. Your baby seems to be healthy, though I can make no guarantees.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, fingertips absently brushing back and forth over your abdomen. “You said you’re not a medical doctor.”

“That’s correct.”

You pulled a face, willing your tired brain to fill in the blanks before Hershel could simply tell you. A lightbulb sparked to life. “You’re a vet.”

“I am.” He moved around the bed, carefully eyeing the tubing connected to your arm and then the bag. He seemed concerned but said nothing. “You need to rest. We’re going to try to get some bland food in you along with some water. Of course, I’ve never had to treat hyperemesis gravidarum but I have medical journals that will help.”

You raised your head slightly, an inquisitive eyebrow arched. “Hyper who the what?”

He chuckled, making his way toward the door. “That’s exactly what your—whatever your relationship is. Anyway, that’s exactly what he said.” He motioned toward the far corner of the room, where his gaze had ventured moments before. Curiosity got the better of you and you forced yourself up, one arm at a time to rest on your elbows. Your arms trembled with the effort. It didn't matter because you were too overwhelmed by the warm feeling stirring in your chest. 

Daryl was slumped in a chair, chin on his chest, and fast asleep. 

“He hasn’t left this room.” The veterinarian offered, turning toward the door. “The condition is severe nausea and vomiting. From my reading, it’s hard to control even with medication. You’ll likely need fluids periodically throughout your pregnancy. We’ll discuss this more once you’ve regained some strength. For now, rest, sips of water, and small, bland meals.”

Your stomach churned at just the thought. “I’ll just throw it all up.”

He nodded in agreement, but didn’t seem pessimistic. “I’ve discussed this with him,” Hershel tilted his head toward the sleeping hunter. “My daughter has a list and will be leaving tomorrow morning to gather what we need. The Korean boy will be accompanying her.” He nodded and stepped over the threshold before you called out. 

“Is Carl okay?”

“He’s not completely out of the woods but I expect he’ll make a full recovery.” 

That made you smile. At least one of the children would be okay. With the information you were just given, you still worried for your own baby. “Thank you, Hershel.”

With a tight smile, he nodded and closed the door. 

You laid back and let everything digest. You were going to have 7 months or so of what sounded like pure hell. You’d need access to constant medication. And the man couldn’t even guarantee that the baby in your belly was indeed healthy. If ever you felt like a burden to the group, it was at that moment. 

Would they even allow you to stay?

You placed both hands on your belly and rubbed in soft circles. “You’ve decided to start giving me hell early, huh, little thumper?”

“Lil’ thumper?” 

You raised your head as far as you could, finding Daryl sitting on the edge of the chair with his elbows on his knees while he wiped the sleep from his eyes. He looked exhausted despite having just been asleep. 

He hasn’t left this room. 

“Hey.” Your smile was feeble at best. Your body felt heavy and it ached, but the cramping had mercifully stopped. The hunter gave a slight nod to greet you just before he stood to stretch, his joints protesting. “How long have I been here?”

“Just over a day.” Your eyes tracked him crossing the room. When he was close enough, he snatched up the unused pillow. Leaning forward with one knee on the mattress, he slid a hand under the back of your head to assist you with sitting up. The second pillow was placed behind you and left you at least elevated enough to hold a conversation in relative comfort. 

Your eyes downcast, you muttered a quiet thank you. Daryl simply nodded, shifting from foot to foot in a nervous cadence, likely unsure of what to do. 

He suddenly cleared his throat. “Think ya can drink some water?” 

Until that moment, you hadn’t paid any mind to how dry your mouth was. “Yeah. Yeah, I can try.” 

The archer nodded, bringing his thumb to his mouth to chew on the side all the way around the bed where a glass of water was sitting on a bedside table. He removed the digit from his mouth in favor of fetching the drink. 

Daryl held it out to you, eyeing your trembling hand lifting to accept it. “Wait.” He settled his hip on the edge of the mattress and brought the glass to your lips. “You’re gonna spill it if ya try by yourself.” With an aggrieved whine, you parted your lips so he could tip the glass. When he tried to take it away after a mere two sips, you brought your hand up to hold it in place, yearning for just a little more. “Nuh uh. Can’t have too much. Tryin’ ta keep it all on the inside.” 

Bottom lip jutted out, you decided you weren’t beyond begging—until you realized your hand was covering his on the glass. Your need was promptly forgotten. You watched Daryl’s gaze follow your appendage but he placed the glass back on the table without commenting.

Probably for the best. 

He didn’t remain on the bed long after that. Rubbing his palms over his thighs, he stood and walked over to the window, pushing the curtain aside.  

“Did you, uh, get to see it?” You asked, needlessly smoothing the blankets over your lap. Daryl looked at you questioningly. “The baby. Did you get to see?”

“Mhm.” He looked back out the window. “Didn’t really know what I’s s’posed ta be looking at. There was this lil’—” he made a gesture with his hand that you weren’t sure how to interpret, “I dunno, like a flashing. He said it was the heartbeat.”

You hummed and brushed your fingers over your belly again. “Wish I could’ve seen it.”

“Mhm.” He nodded but kept his eyes on whatever he was watching outside, if there really was anything there at all. There was a sudden discontent in the air; the same thick tension you had felt in the truck that first day after he found you. 

“He said you stayed the whole time.”

“Course I did.” His voice had lowered to a point where you were surprised you could hear him. “S’my kid in there. Needed to make sure ev’rything was okay. We don’t know these people.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. You had been telling yourself all along that the baby was all Daryl cared about. He’d almost made that perfectly clear, until the forest. Something in his eyes had shifted, and the way he spoke to you. He had been so coarse up until you admitted that you had been wrong. Then his touches were gentle, his voice even more so. 

But now, you wondered if maybe you had imagined it. You chewed on your lip, glancing up at him every few seconds. It might finally be the right time. You had no doubt that he would stop you if it wasn’t. 

“I’m really sorry, Daryl.” You willed him to look at you; it was imperative that he actually witnessed your sincerity. You had never meant to hurt him. 

“‘Bout what?” He asked, just before he obliged your unspoken request. He started to turn back to the window but it appeared he thought better of it and held your gaze. 

“I only knew for less than a day.” You waited to be dismissed; for him to snap at you and stomp out of the room. 

He did neither. 

You slowly repositioned yourself, suddenly uncomfortable under his stare. He was giving you his attention; finally hearing what you had to say, only for you to be terrified to continue. 

“I, um—I found out from the blood test. I went to see Jenner after supper. I came to tell you that night but—I got scared and then you kissed me and I—” you lowered your head, the stark white sheet suddenly very interesting. “I’m just sorry. I'm sorry you had to find out the way you did. I should have told you.”

The silence carried on, suffocating and loud. You were certain he could hear the intensity of your thundering heart from across the room. A tear tickled your skin as it cascaded down your cheek, almost conjuring a laugh when you realized you were hydrated enough to actually cry. 

“S’okay.” Your wet, shining eyes locked on him immediately. He was looking out the window again, but somehow looked calmer. That tenseness in his stance had softened. “I shouldn’a been such a asshole.”

You gave a wet laugh, the acceptance of your apology having more of an effect on you than you could have imagined. Naturally, Daryl was looking at you with an inquisitive brow arched. “I’m not laughing at you.” You assured him with a useless gesture, waving your hands. “Hormones, I guess?”

There was a very slow nod that meant I have no idea what that means but I’ll take your word for it. He watched you nervously until the waterworks dried up, seemingly afraid to approach while you were having your moment. You were still sniffling when he sat down on the edge of the mattress again and grabbed the water glass. “A lil’ more an’ I’ll go down to see what we can do ‘bout some food for ya.”

And right on cue, your stomach rumbled while your cheeks reddened. 

Hershel had discovered some Odansetron in his supplies and was able to work out a safe dose for you with the help of the medical journals. It had made you a little drowsy but not so much so that you didn’t laugh and smile broadly when the waves of nausea all but ceased for the first time in days! 

Daryl brought you one scrambled egg and half a piece of toast with no butter. He was forced to snatch away your fork when you almost crammed the entirety of the egg in your mouth in one bite. 

“Slow down. Ain’t nobody gonna take it from ya. Jesus.” He handed the utensil back after you promised to take your time. It was difficult but you managed to keep that promise. 

Now you were curled up under the sheets, eyes heavy and stomach full. You felt better than you had since first arriving into the small group. Sleepy, but better. The fluids would continue at least throughout the night, Hershel had said. He would give you another injection of the antiemetic when it was time, just to keep your symptoms under control until his daughter could hopefully find some in tablet form. 

The room was near silent, which didn’t bother you now that Daryl had heard your apology and accepted it. He may only be worrying about his baby but he at least wasn’t angry with you anymore. You still had a lot to talk about but it was more related to planning for childbirth and parenting during an apocalypse. So, for now, you melted into the bed and closed your eyes. 

Daryl yawned from the chair in the corner. Your eyes were quick to open. The hunter had protected you, had been protecting you from the moment he carried you out of the woods. How cruel was it for you, pregnant or not, to be in a nice, cozy bed while he was slumped in a very uncomfortable-looking chair. 

“Hey, Daryl?” You didn’t move from the comfortable position you had found but you were able to call out loud enough for him to hear. He grunted in reply, which you wanted to chuckle at for whatever reason. “Can you come over here for a sec?” 

There was a sigh before you heard the chair slightly shift when he rose from it. He actually approached the side your back was turned toward, probably assuming you wanted the water glass. You were able to roll onto your other side, careful of the IV. You were definitely improving. That movement alone would have been impossible when you had first awakened. 

Daryl actually looked tired. Worry and near sleepless nights had that effect, you supposed. His hand wrapped around the glass but you extended yours before he could pick it up. 

“Thank you, but that’s not what I needed.” You smiled gently. 

“What is it then? Gettin’ up early to look for the girl. Need to get some sleep.”

You were careful about scooting backwards, maneuvering the tubing so it was against the headboard and not across the mattress. Situated comfortably, you lifted the blankets on the other side. 

“Get in.”

He arched a brow, the question of are you serious needn’t have been spoken aloud. 

“Ugh, always thinking with your dick.” You rolled your eyes and chuckled lightly. “No, I just want you to sleep here. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” Now his brow drew inward, skeptically. 

“Why?”

“Because I’m not sure I could even have sex right now—” 

“Not that.” He snorted and shook his head. “Why d’ya want me to sleep there?”

Did he just assume you didn’t want him near you because of everything? He never questioned any time you had wanted him buried inside you but looked honestly confused that you’d want him near you otherwise. “Because you need to rest too. It’s been crazy out there. But we’re safe right now—”

“Ain’t never safe.”

“Thanks, captain optimistic.” You deadpanned, releasing the sheets be keeping your hand splayed out on the mattress. “Seriously, whether or not it’s safe out there doesn’t matter. You make me feel safe. And I’d really like it if you’d sleep here.” When he didn’t answer immediately, you added a quiet please that seemed to break his resolve. 

"You’re ridiculous.” You were sure that was just the Daryl method of diffusing a situation that had become too uncomfortable for him to handle. Regardless, he sat down and began taking off his boots. You gave up the second pillow and snuggled back into your own, watching the soft light from the bedside lamp cause shadows to dance across him while he got comfortable. Of course, he opted to lie on his back on top of the blanket. 

“Better than the chair?” You were smiling smugly when he rolled his head toward you. He scoffed and returned his gaze to the ceiling. In seconds, his eyelids were drooping, along with your own. You took a deep, content breath and allowed yourself to relax and begin to give in to the call of sleep. 

Just as the last dregs of consciousness began to release their hold, you could have sworn you heard him say “much better than the chair.”

[drakaripykiros130ac]

There is constant talk of poor pitiful, innocent Alicent Hightower and how she and her children would have been killed had they not usurped the throne (I personally despise the showrunners for going down this road, instead of basing the usurpation on the Hightowers’ obvious greed and treachery. There is always some kind of excuse when it comes to the Greens’ actions - it’s sickening).

Such consideration is not given to Rhaenyra herself. Had she accepted the Greens taking the throne, she and her own family would have remained threats, and the Hightowers would have had them killed one way or another.

Rhaenyra was the legitimate Queen, with the support of many lords. Even if she refused the crown, there would have still been plenty who would deem her brother a usurper and a false king.

Then there is Daemon. Let’s suppose that by some miracle he also accepts the Greens on the throne and does nothing about it. You think the Hightowers would have let him live throughout Aegon’s reign? No way in hell. Daemon would have been the first of the Blacks to be assasinated. He was Rhaenyra’s protector, a true Targaryen prince with many people loyal to him (smallfolk and lords alike). He was a seasoned warrior, a dragonrider and wielding Dark Sister. He was the most feared man in the Realm.

Daemon and Rhaenyra have two sons who are more Targaryen by blood than the usurper king. Do you really think the Greens would be able to sleep peacefully knowing that Rhaenyra’s sons draw breath and one day, the lords may very well decide that they are the rightful heirs to the throne? I think not.

So, by Greencel logic, Rhaenyra Targaryen has just as much right to protect her family and take the throne, as Alicent Bitchtower (making the Greens’ show fanfic reasoning for the usurpation absurd).

[asbealthgn]

“Tonight is the night,” Nancy says.

She says it with so much gravity that it makes Eddie look up from his spot on the couch, drawing his attention away from the email he’s reading (lyrics from Jeff that he wants input on). He whistles.

“Damn, Nance, you look good,” he says. She has her hair and makeup done and she’s wearing her favorite dress, the one that looks black until the right light hits it and reveals it’s actually purple. Eddie may be as gay as they come, but he can recognize that she looks sexy as hell. “The night for what?”

She takes a deep breath. “I’m going to ask Robin to be my girlfriend.”

“Hell yeah!” Eddie says, putting his hand out for a high-five. She returns it before sitting on the couch next to him. “You have a date tonight?”

“No, remember? It’s the party.”

Right. Nancy spent twenty minutes the other day trying to convince Eddie to come with her to the party that Robin and her housemates are throwing. He refused. He’s met Robin a few times and really likes her—and he knows Nancy is completely head over heels for her—but he’s not big on house parties where he doesn’t know anyone. Especially because it’s a guarantee that Nancy will abandon him immediately to be with Robin.

“Do you think that’s a terrible place to do it?” Nancy asks, “And do you think it’s too soon?”

Eddie shrugs. He’s shit at relationships, so he doesn’t know the rules. “I think you’re fine,” he says, “You guys are clearly crazy about each other. I think you could take her to, like, a sewage plant and ask her to be your girlfriend and she’d still be over the moon.”

She gives him a tiny smile. “Will you please come?” she asks. “I’m just so nervous about it and it would really help to have my best friend there.”

Unfair. She’s giving him her biggest doe eyes. It shouldn’t work on him because he knows she only makes that face when she’s trying to manipulate him. But even though he knows what she’s doing, she’s just so adorable. He can’t say no to her.

He sighs. “God, fine,” he says. He looks down at his worn out t-shirt and hole-riddled sweatpants. “I probably have to change, huh?”

Forty-five minutes later, Eddie is circling the block looking for a spot to park. Normally Nancy drives when they go somewhere together because she hates his driving, but he insisted tonight because he has a feeling that she’s going to end up staying the night and he doesn’t want to be trapped. As they drive, Nancy has been giving Eddie the rundown on Robin’s housemates. There’s Max and Lucas, the couple who are Nancy’s brother Mike’s age. She’s convinced that they would get along really well with Mike and his boyfriend Will, so she keeps trying to figure out an organic way for them to meet. She tells Eddie that she invited them to the party but never heard if they’ll actually be there. Then there’s Steve, Robin’s best friend who works with her at the same library where Robin and Nancy originally met (because Nancy was doing research for a story and had to access the archives for some records that were never digitized). Nancy keeps telling Eddie that she thinks he’s either going to fall madly in love with Steve or hate his guts. So Eddie guesses he’s about to find out which one it’ll be.

He finally finds a spot on the street around the corner. He squeezes his van into the tiny space and puts it in park before glancing over at Nancy. She looks nervous, taking slow, even breaths to steady herself while her hands shake.

“Hey,” he says, putting his hand out. She puts her hand in his and he squeezes it tight. “You’ve got this. Robin’ll be a goddamn idiot if she says no.”

She gives him a small smile. “Thank you,” she says, then tosses her shoulders back. “Let’s do this.”

They get out of the van, where Nancy makes him stop so she can fix the collar of his battle vest that’s standing up. It’s a pretty warm night, so he’s had to forgo his favorite leather jacket plus vest combo. Instead, it’s just the vest over top of a Nekrogoblikon t-shirt paired with his favorite black jeans. He feels really underdressed next to Nancy, but she told him it was fine when he showed her the outfit for approval.

Inside, the house is pretty packed. Right away, Eddie sees that Mike and Will made it after all, along with Will’s sister El. They’re all sitting side by side on a couch talking to three people who are sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of them. 

“That’s Max and Lucas,” Nancy tells Eddie, pointing out two of the kids on the ground. “Not sure who the other one is.”

As they get closer, Mike glances up and waves. But the group seems pretty engrossed in their conversation, so Eddie and Nancy move deeper into the house. 

Eddie feels Nancy clench his wrist. “That’s Steve,” she hisses, nodding significantly in the direction of the kitchen. His eyes find the guy she’s pointing out, ladling punch into a red Solo cup and—

Fuck.

He’s the most beautiful guy Eddie’s ever seen. Nancy way undersold him. He gets that there’s a certain amount of leeway he needs to grant to her as a lesbian since she can’t really tell, but come on. Eddie could be full on blind and still recognize that Steve is unreal. His swooping brown hair catches the last of the setting sun coming in through the window and turns it all shades of honey. His eyes are the same, amber in the dying light. And it’s like his face has been sculpted from stone—not marble—something better than that. Some stone they haven’t invented yet because nothing else currently on this earth could capture him.

Belatedly, he becomes aware of Nancy laughing at him. Somehow, she can always follow his thoughts. Always knows when he’s composing terrible sonnets in his mind. But just as she’s opening her mouth (definitely to make fun of him), Robin appears in front of them. Eddie watches her cheeks flame as she looks Nancy up and down. 

“Hi, Nancy!” she says, “Glad you made it!”

“Of course I did!” Nancy says, eyes practically turning into hearts and popping out of her head. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Robin reaches her hands out to grasp Nancy’s. “You look gorgeous,” she says, “I love that dress.”

Eddie can tell this is going to veer into territory where he can’t follow very quickly, so he cuts in. “Hey, Robin, nice to see you.”

Robin blinks at him. “Oh, hey!” she says, “I didn’t see you.”

That was apparent. Not that Eddie’s upset about it. He loves seeing the two girls like this, loves that Nancy has found someone who matches her intensity. 

They get through the bare minimum small talk (work is good, yes they all watched that new episode of that show, yes it was crazy), but Eddie can see that Nancy and Robin want to be alone. So he lets Robin drag Nancy away, presumably to her bedroom. And now he just needs to figure out what he’s going to do now that the only two people he knows here are preoccupied. 

Well, that’s not entirely accurate. He knows Mike, Will, and El. He looks over, but they’re no longer sitting in the living room. He scans the crowd for them and sees Mike and Will have moved to the kitchen (apparently Steve has moved on—that’s unfortunate) where they’re talking to Lucas and the other guy Eddie doesn’t know. Eddie makes his way over to them, stopping by the punch bowl on his way.

“Eddie!” Mike says as soon as he sees him. “Lucas and Dustin here play D&D. Can we invite them to Hellfire?”

Eddie crosses his arms and surveys the two guys, sizing them up. Dustin looks like the type, with a Star Wars shirt and a goofy grin. Lucas looks way too athletic to be into D&D though. Not nearly enough of a loser.

“I don’t know,” he says, “Are you guys any good?”

That causes both boys to launch into tales of their various past exploits on campaigns, apparently not giving a shit that they’re yelling over each other so Eddie can’t tell anything they’re saying. He feels the passion, though. 

“Alright,” he concedes, “You can sit in for a session. If you’re good, we’ll let you stick around.”

Whooping, Mike and Will high-five each other, then Lucas and Dustin. 

“Where’s your sister?” Eddie asks Will. 

Will nods over to an adjacent wall. “Over there talking to Max and Steve,” he says. Eddie follows his gaze and sees the trio. More specifically, his eyes are drawn to Steve. He’s so goddamn beautiful, even in the artificial light now that the sun has disappeared below the horizon. 

Well, isn’t this a perfect opportunity? “I’m gonna go say hi,” Eddie says casually, nodding in farewell to Will, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin. Then, red Solo cup in hand, he starts heading in the direction of El, Steve, and Max. 

In a way, it’s just too damn predictable. 

Eddie is walking toward the group, feeling pretty good, doing his best to look cool and nonchalant. He’s about five feet away and Steve glances up, eyes flicking over him. And Eddie’s so caught up in the euphoria of being seen (and maybe admired?) by Steve that he completely misses someone’s purse on the ground. He trips over it, doesn’t manage to right himself, and goes sprawling. To add insult to injury, he doesn’t manage to keep hold of his cup of punch and manages to spill it all over himself and Steve.

Great.

“Fuck, man, I’m so sorry,” Eddie says, hopping to his feet and putting his hands out like he can—what? Wipe away the bright red punch from Steve’s white shirt? God, he’s so stupid. 

Steve is looking down at himself in surprise, then back up at Eddie. “It’s cool,” he says. Fuck, his voice is so sexy. Eddie can’t believe that the first thing he did when trying to approach this guy was spill punch all over him. When did he become such a mess?

Max laughs. “I told you not to wear white, dingus,” she says. Steve scowls at her. 

“Only Robin gets to call me dingus,” he says. “And you told me not to wear white because you think I look ugly in it, not because you thought I would spill on it.”

Max shrugs. “Different reasoning, same end result,” she says breezily. 

Alright, Eddie is definitely gonna need to befriend this girl as soon as he stops wanting to die of mortification. If that happens. 

“Seriously, man, I’m so sorry,” Eddie says, “I can, like, buy you a new shirt, or—”

Steve waves him off. “Seriously, it’s cool,” he says, “Honestly, I got this shirt in a pack of five from Target so it’s not a big loss.” He looks over Eddie again. His all black ensemble probably doesn’t reveal the punch as much, but Eddie can feel the wet patches sticking to his skin. “C’mon, I’ll lend you something to change into.”

Not about to complain about the prospect of seeing the inside of Steve’s room, Eddie follows him down the hall and through a door. It’s a nice bedroom, tidy without feeling sterile. There are posters for bands on the wall that Eddie doesn’t listen to but doesn’t disrespect either. An acoustic guitar is leaning against a desk that’s stacked with neat piles of books. There are twinkle lights along the bedframe, giving the room a cheerful glow. And it’s a comfy looking bed, with a thick white comforter and fluffy pillows. 

Stop staring at his bed, you absolute creep.

“I’m Eddie by the way,” Eddie says, looking back over at Steve. Who is very shirtless. Apparently having peeled his wet shirt off, he’s now standing facing the closet. Goddamn. The smooth expanse of his back is on display, toned and freckled. Eddie wants to bite it. 

Steve looks over his shoulder at Eddie. “Yeah, I know,” he says. 

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Steve grins, turning more fully around. Don’t stare at his chest don’t stare at his chest don’t stare at his— “After Robin met Nancy she made a whole ass PowerPoint of her Instagram photos. You’re in some of ‘em.”

Eddie feels a little flustered that Steve knew who he was before Eddie knew him. What did he think? Did Steve think he was good looking? Or was he even paying attention? Then Eddie wrinkles his nose, the rest of the context registering. 

“A whole PowerPoint, huh?” Eddie asks. 

Steve shrugs (his shoulders are so pretty, fuck). “Yeah, it’s kinda what we do,” he says, “Anything significant happens, we share it with each other in excruciating detail. And Robbie knows I’m a visual learner so slideshows work pretty well.”

“Fair enough.”

Steve turns back to the closet and rifles through the hangers. “Good news is I think we’re about the same size,” he says. He produces a plain black t-shirt. “Does this work?”

“I’ll take whatever you give me,” Eddie says (God, he hopes that comes off less horny than it sounds to his ears). “I’m the one who spilled punch all over us.”

Eyes fixed on Eddie’s chest, Steve comes back over. Eddie resists the urge to cross his arms over himself. But obviously, Steve’s just looking at the stains, not him. “Your vest was mostly saved,” Steve says. He touches a spot below one of the buttons on Eddie’s chest, making Eddie’s heart leap into his throat. “There’s a bit, but I think Max has some stuff for stains we can borrow.”

“Cool,” Eddie says. His voice definitely sounds unnatural, and he thinks Steve notices, eyes flicking up to his. Those pretty, pretty eyes. Up close, his eyelashes are so long. And his face is dotted with moles. Eddie wants to touch every one of them. “I’m not really that worried about it,” he chokes out. 

Shrugging, Steve hands him the black shirt. And then he just stands there, watching. “Um,” Eddie says. Does Steve really expect him to just strip down right in front of him? He can’t present his incredibly mediocre shirtless self to the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. 

Steve lifts his eyebrows. “What’re you waiting for?” 

“Uh, nothing,” Eddie says. 

This isn’t weird. Right? It’s only weird if he keeps acting all weird about it. But he can be all cool and casual about this like Steve was. So he shrugs out of his battle vest, draping it over the desk chair along with the borrowed shirt, and then tugs his own shirt over his head. Steve’s standing a little closer than Eddie realized, so his arms bump against him as he untangles them from the shirt. Totally fine, totally normal. Totally not gonna obsess about the feeling of Steve’s skin against his for the next 3-5 business days. 

As soon as Eddie has laid his shirt over his battle vest, he feels featherlight fingers brushing over the demon tattoo on his chest. He sucks in a breath, frozen to the spot. What is happening right now?

He risks a glance at Steve, whose eyes are trained on Eddie’s tattoos. “I was curious what these looked like up close,” Steve says, “I should admit I actually have seen you shirtless before. I kind of stalked your Instagram.”

What? That’s not computing. First of all, Steve, most gorgeous man to ever exist, stalked Eddie’s Instagram? Second of all, Eddie has shirtless pics on his Instagram? He doesn’t have the confidence to post that kind of thing. Except no, there is a picture on there from when he went to the beach with Gareth and Jeff a month or two ago. But what? Steve has seen it? And it was significant enough for him to remember?

Steve looks at Eddie, eyebrows furrowing. “Is that creepy?”

“No, but—” Eddie shakes his head. “Me?”

“Yeah.” Steve grins. “I think you’re pretty.”

Maybe Eddie hit his head when he fell. Maybe he’s hallucinating this. Maybe he’s gonna wake up on the floor out there, and Steve calling him pretty will all have been a delicious, far-fetched dream. Because there’s just no way. 

“You think I’m pretty,” Eddie says. When Steve nods, Eddie almost laughs. “And have you happened to look in a mirror recently?”

Steve laughs. “Yeah,” he says, “But somehow, I’m not my own type.”

He keeps leaning in closer and it’s making it very hard for Eddie to come up with something intelligent to say. He should make a joke or something to prove that he’s very cool and collected, but his brain turns more and more to static the longer he stares into Steve’s eyes. 

“Um,” Eddie says. Clever. What’s wrong with him? He doesn’t usually get this flustered. But then, he doesn’t usually talk to guys who look like Steve. 

Steve’s smile is very self-satisfied as those gossamer fingers of his trail down past Eddie’s tattoos and brush over his nipple. Eddie takes in a sharp breath. “You often invite strangers who you’ve been stalking into your room to get ‘em shirtless and feel ‘em up?” he asks, aiming for aloof and entirely missing the mark. 

“Hmm, just the ones that spill punch on me,” Steve says, pinching Eddie’s nipple slightly. “And just the ones that I catch staring at me.” He leans in, putting his mouth inches away from Eddie’s ear. “I don’t think you’re as subtle as you think you are.”

Unable to resist any longer, Eddie slides his hands around Steve’s waist. His skin is so smooth, so velvety. “Who says I’m trying to be subtle?” he asks. 

Grinning, Steve wraps his free arm around Eddie’s neck and pulls him in. Eddie kisses Steve eagerly. His lips are heavenly, so much softer than most guys Eddie has kissed. He tastes like strawberry lipgloss and punch. And he kisses like they have all the time in the world, which maybe they do. Nancy’s off with Robin somewhere, so there’s no reason Eddie needs to rejoin the party any time soon.

They wind up on Steve’s bed, Steve on his back under Eddie. Eddie gets the fingers of one hand tangled in Steve’s hair. So silky, just like everything else about him. The man defines the word soft. It makes Eddie a little crazy, makes him want to dig his teeth and fingers in, ruin the undisturbed perfection. He goes after Steve hungrily, attacking his jaw and throat and collarbones like he’s starving. Steve seems happy to let him, pulling Eddie’s hips down flush with his and rolling his own hips gently up.

Eddie’s just thinking that he’d be happy to never stop kissing Steve exactly like this when there’s a knock at the door. He pulls away and looks at it while Steve sighs. 

“I have to answer that,” he says, sounding resigned. 

“You sure you have to?” Eddie asks, brushing the hair back off Steve’s forehead. He looks sort of wrecked, red marks already starting to form on his neck.

Steve nods. “If it’s Robin or Max they’ll just let themselves in after thirty seconds.” 

He edges out from under Eddie and crosses over to the door. Eddie feels vindicated that he has to adjust himself in his jeans before opening the door a crack. 

“Hey, Robbie,” he says, “What’s up?”

“Steve! I have huge news!” Robin says from just out of sight. “Nancy asked me to be her—wait, why don’t you have a shirt on?”

Steve is forced back as Robin pushes the door open farther and pokes her head in. She looks over at the bed, sees Eddie, and grins. “Oh, that’s why,” she says, mischief in her voice.

“Hey, what’s up?” Eddie says, trying to sound casual. 

“Eddie?” He hears Nancy’s voice from the hall, and then her head is appearing in the doorway next to Robin’s. As soon as she sees him, she gives a triumphant laugh. “I knew it!”

Eddie buries his face in his hands, sure it’s burning. 

“Alright that’s enough,” he hears Steve say. Then there’s the overlapping protests from the girls before the door clicks shut again. 

Removing his hands, Eddie risks another glance and sees Steve coming back over to the bed, shaking his head. He slides onto the mattress next to Eddie and puts his arms around him. “Can you believe them?” he asks, not quite managing to hide his smile. 

Smiling back, Eddie pinches Steve in the side. “You sure you should have closed the door on them?” he asks, “Sounds like they had big news.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s fine,” he says, “They can tell us in the morning.”

“Morning, huh? Think we’re gonna be occupied until then?”

Smile turning devious, Steve kisses Eddie once before rolling him onto his back. “I think I can come up with a couple things to keep us busy,” he says. 

And as Steve kisses him again, Eddie’s pretty sure he agrees.

[novasolstarr]

BLEGH Man I was having an unreasonably hard time drawing this bastard what the hell

Uhh still not very happy with these sketches besides the horrible feral one but also my desire to ramble about this version of Arius is overwhelming my need to have better sketches

SO THIS FUNNY BASTARD ALRIGHT Based off of another version if him, therefore I'm gonna be kinda mismatching the two's lore

Gravekeep, Spectator, Undertaker; Z-32 has been assigned several names over the years.

However, most have familiarized themselves with Z-32 to be Arius.

Arius is an anomalous entity that previously was completely unrelated to Urbanshade as a whole. In fact, several attempts had been made to remove Z-32 as a whole. This included luring it out, locking down the facility, trapping it with other entities, and so on. These attempts, however, were stopped after Urbanshade attempted a more violent method and ended up with... a few casualties [sketch 5]. Surviving spectators described Z-32 as being "fearsomely animalistic," which was an unusual change from Z-32's normally docile [albeit, cryptid] nature.

Despite suffering several what should have been fatal wounds, Z-32 seemed to recover without assistance.

The injury exposing the right side of Z-32's jaw is completely irrelevant to Urbanshade. He had arrived at the Blacksite with this wound. Along with this, it would seem that Z-32 has shape-shifting qualities, as several personnel have noted his appearance is not the same as his first arrival. It's assumed these changes are an attempt to better blend in with the fellow entities.

Z-32 gathered its names the "Gravekeep" and "Undertaker" due to its habits of cleaning up gruesome scenes, regardless of whether it's an experiment or personnel. Though normally the task of janitorial staff, Urbanshade higher-ups were not about to complain about the free labor done at an exceptionally spotless degree. For several years, it was unknown how Z-32 so cleanly disposed of the bodies with little to no evidence. Up until personnel noticed Z-32 pull apart its very own chest cavity [sketch 4] and lower several corpses into this opening.

Much to the surprise of Urbanshade scientist Z-32 was not only cooperative but also willing to allow personnel to run a few tests on him. Here, it was noted that the opening Z-32 was superficial, housing normal organs just beneath the skin here. Along with this, the opening itself could stretch from the underside of his jaw all the way to its pelvis. Other additional notes thus far are inorganic objects can be kept within this "pocket dimension" indefinitely. Organics, however, appear to be affected by this strange occurrence, with it being noted that the longer organics remain the further they're degraded. Hours 1-2 had no effect. Hour 3 began to show signs of this breakdown. Every additional 30-45 minutes after this point would break these organics down further until the previous item was completely unrecognizable from a black sludge puddle. Even when contained within an inorganic item, such as a Tupperware box, these organics still decomposed. Unfortunately, it's unknown how it affects living organics, as Z-32 avidly denied allowing such tests to be run. Attempts to force Z-32 to comply were fruitless endeavors.

Information about Z-32's past is just as mysterious as his appearance. He refuses to speak upon himself and even appears cautious not to share such information. Its unknown what this reason could be.

Z-32 has been noted to be surprisingly social, commonly engaging in conversation with other personnel regardless of the individual. Though it has been noted that his body language and speech patterns change regarding the individuals in question. At first, it was assumed to be a morality related issue. Further studying found that he seemed more likely to engage with the more "unfortunate" personnel of Urbanshade. Those who had a lengthy criminal record publicly known or not, mentioned hardships or mental health concerns seemed to be his primary conversators. When questioned about this, he merely mentioned being "drawn to disaster." No further explanation was provided. Urbanshade employees were not the only individuals either. Fellow entities were regular companions for Z-32, seeming to have an easy time communicating with even some of the most unruly of experiments. Younger individuals he spent his time around the most and even appeared parental towards these particular few, noticeably being more easy to agitate when around them. This agitation would never be directed to the younger individuals.

This rambling is getting very lengthy and my brain is exploding again so uhhh.. if anyone's curious about him further, feel free to ask [He's my little mental illness. I love him]

[villain-crown]

needle | @jegulus-microfic | words: 786

critical care, part 2 | (part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9)

a Jegulus nurse!AU

“Prongs!”

Sirius strolled onto the medical-surgical intensive care unit with a coffee in one hand and an exasperated Remus Lupin in the other. James had to hand it to them—ever since his friends started sucking faces and Remus had flatly refused to let Sirius sabotage his 15 minutes early arrival policy, Sirius was never late to work anymore.

“Hey, mate,” James replied over his shoulder, examining the patient assignments that he’d just outlined.

“Are we in charge?” Sirius demanded into his Starbucks when he’d come close enough to read the board.

“Yeah, I'm charge nurse for the medical patients, you can have the surgical ones. Looks like your brother’s floating up here today.”

Sirius hurried to gulp down the sip he’d already taken. “Reggie? Yesss! Put him on my team! I want to boss him around.”

“How is that different from any other day of the week?” Remus asked.

It was on the tip of James’s tongue to ask—why would Marlene warn me not to stare at your brother?—when the two-toned wail of the code blue alarm blared through the hallway, automatically pulling their focus towards the far side of the ICU.

Sirius sucked up the last of his coffee, attempting to simultaneously shrug off his jacket and stagger towards the action. “Fucking hell, okay, OKAY!”

James was already taking long strides towards the other end of his unit, his eyes flicking to the blue light over room twelve’s door and the controlled chaos unfolding within it. Three people were already present: his two Gryffindor nurses, Lily and Mary, along with a very slender man in dark green Slytherin scrubs performing chest compressions.

“We started compressions about fifteen seconds ago,” Mary supplied from her position performing rescue breaths via bag mask at the head of the patient’s bed.

“Do you need a step stool?” James asked without thinking.

Stranger.

Slytherin scrubs.

This must be Regulus!

As the petite nurse looked up to spare him a glare while continuing to stand on his toes to maintain his rhythm, James realized exactly why he’d been warned not to stare.

He’d seen it all in the course of his career: severed fingers, gaping wounds, and infested flesh. When Marlene had warned him to keep his eyes to himself, he’d figured it was because there was something physically off about Sirius’s little brother; a scar or imperfection of some kind.

He was wrong.

Regulus Black wasn’t some deformed hobbit.

He was fucking gorgeous.

Truly, James couldn’t imagine anything he’d like to do more than stare into those stunning silver eyes set in that lovely face. His eyes had barely swept down to register the man’s slender body and neat little waist when fingers clicked sharply in his face.

“Watch your fucking eyes, Potter!” Sirius snapped, having finally caught up, pushing roughly past him to join his brother at the patient’s side. “Hold compressions, Reggie.”

Regulus paused his movements, backing off slightly to come down off his toes as everyone in the room observed the meaningless squiggles on the cardiac monitor fade from the reading. A wavy, trembling line replaced the previously jerky chaos.

“V. Fib,” Regulus concluded, correctly identifying the lethal heart rhythm.

He was much smaller than James, which was exactly what James liked. It would make pinning him up against a wall by the hips as they fucked a lot easier.

“Yeah. Take over compressions, Lily. Reggie, can you give a round of epinephrine? Where’s Dr. McGonagall?”

“In a budget meeting, according to the intern answering her phone,” Regulus answered, drawing up the medication with a needle.

Fuck, even his voice was just incredibly lovely. James imagined how it might sound in a much dirtier context than they were in now.

“Ah. Pour one out for McGonagall,” Sirius instructed Remus, who obediently emptied a syringe of sterile saline into the garbage.

Regulus paused his own movements, watched this action incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It’s good luck. What, you guys don’t do that in Slytherin?”

“We don’t need luck in Slytherin.”

James rolled his eyes. “See, this is why people hate you guys. Okay, one milligram of epi is in.”

“Hello, everyone!”

James looked up and scowled upon seeing Barty Crouch Jr., one of the resident physicians on loan to them from Slytherin, swanning into the room like it was a lovely day. He seemed distinctly unconcerned by his late arrival and more interested in sidling over to Regulus and throwing an arm around his shoulder, making James frown.

“Hey Reg! Wow, they’ve really got you slumming it with these surgical idiots, huh?”

“Are you here to help or hit on my baby brother?” Sirius snapped over his shoulder from where he was recording the code events with a dry erase marker on one of the windows.

Crouch frowned. “Where’s McGonagall?”

“Budget meeting,” came from three different directions.

“Oh. Hey, Lupin, pour one out for—“

“We already did that! Now fucking give us orders, you cretin!”

“Oh. Alright, pause compressions, let’s check a pulse…”

[misguidedasgardian]

Blurred Lines (2)

2. All in

MASTERLIST

Summary: You don’t know how you got to the point where Jace was just… living there with you… you liked it though

Warnings:  Cursing, cheating, adultery, talks about body shaming, therapy, misogynistic undertones (“man of the house” and whatnot), Harwin is not a good person on this… and Jace isn’t either, implied tampering with birth control, spy cameras, a bit creepiness, alcohol consumption, reader is a bit drunk in some parts, masturbation, fingering, inappropriate relationship, smut, oral sex (m receiving)

Wordcount: 4.9k

Notes: OH MY! things are heating up, I really don’t want to drag this along hehe, I want to just get to the good part

He knew that he had to bid his time, that he needed to draw you in, but as he sneaked a peek at you, he got so tempted…

He had picked a movie called “the boy next door”, in which a separated woman who is going through a divorce, moves to a small town where she starts an affair… with the 20 year old boy next door. You looked away at the very hot sex scene between them

The mom was interpreted by a famous actress, a singer, a hot, mature one.

You were acting so coy, looking away, Jace got painfully hard just by looking at you. You had “made yourself comfortable”, wearing some black cotton leggings that did nothing to hide your delicious thighs and ass. and that sweater too big for you

Now you were curled up on the couch, nursing your beer.

Jace could bet you thought it was hot, that’s why you were so embarrassed, the best part is that he was older than the guy in the movie, and you were way younger than her…

Jace always thought it was creepy how there was a huge age gap between you and Harwin, and a much lesser one between you and him. 

“You didn’t like the movie?”, he asked, making you jump. You laughed coyly

“It’s good”, you muttered, nodding and taking a sip, “a bit kinky Jace”

“Oh right”, he mocked, you were twenty nine, a week shy of turning thirty, you were not an old woman, you were barely getting started 

Why couldn’t you see that?”

He put on his best puppy dog face

“Yeah, it’s awkward”, he muttered, turning towards you, “can I ask you a question?”, he asked, when the actress was whining about her cheating ex-husband

“Yeah”, you said, smiling encouragingly at him

“What happened between you and Harwin?”, Harwin, not dad, he couldn’t have you connecting those dots tonight 

You took a sip of your second beer

“It’s complicated Jacey”, you said softly

“I’m sure you can work it out”, he said dismissively, he was being risky, but he needed to know, he needed to know by your own words what happened, and then he could exploit it 

“I’m not so sure”, you whispered, taking yet another sip of beer, Jace had you exactly where he wanted you

“Why did you kick him out?”, he asked then

“Jace..”

“What did he do that was so bad?”, he said innocently

“Well. we drew apart last year and… well, he was feeling lonely I guess, I was too occupied with Aerea…”, Jace blood was boiling, he couldn’t believe was he was hearing, you were trying to soften the fact that the bastard had cheated on you, only for him to hear, his son

Gods you were so fucking good

So nice

He couldn’t wait to keep you full of his cock, because if you kept that up, you are never going to refuse him once he starts fucking you 

“He felt lonely?”, he couldn’t keep the ruse up for long, “what does that mean?”

“Jace I really don’t want to speak ill of your father”, you whispered 

“He cheated on you, didn’t he?”, he asked, and to you, he was appearing completely heart broken, like he just learned his hero had done something terrible

Jace should be an actor

“Well…”

“What a cunt!”, he cursed

“Jace, he is your father!”, you chided, “he cheated on me, not you”

“How could he?”, he continued, “how could he cheat on you? you are beautiful, smart, funny, hot as hell”

“Jace!”, you said, embarrassed that he would call you that… hot as hell. what a joke

“Why would he?”, he asked again, “he must be insane!”

“Well Jace, my pregnancy wasn’t easy, and women bodies change when they… get pregnant, and after they give birth”, you whispered, remember sadly how Harwin loved to make the baby, but not as much once she was about to be born or already here, when your body started changing 

“You can’t be serious!”, he snapped, “you are blaming yourself?”

“I shouldn’t have told you”, you said, feeling guilty

“I’m glad you did”, he made his play, he placed a hand on your shoulder, and your raised your gaze again to look at him wide-eyed, “he has never stopped disappointing me, this doesn’t surprise me”, he admitted, “but I’m glad I can be here for you”

“Thank you”, you said, smiling softly, he caressed your arm

“He doesn’t deserve you, or Aerea”, he whispered, “come here”, he was all in, you smiled and happily scooched over to his open arms, to hug him

A seemingly kind, warm gesture

“I’m glad you are here Jacey”, you whispered 

“I’m glad to be here to keep you company”, he said against the top of your head, “you deserve better, a man that cares for you, desires you, takes care of your daughter…”

“Thank you Jacey, and I have to say, you and your brothers will always be welcomed in my home”

. . .

Tonight had gone way better than he expected

Through the camera in your room, Jace could you tossing and turning in your bed, it was still hot outside, you were sleeping in these flimsy cotton shorts, and you accommodated yourself placing the sheet between your thighs, you bend your back, popping out your ass

Fuck

He was already hard

He took out his cock, already weeping, and he started squeezing it and stroking

You were right there

Just two rooms over

He could go, open the door, rip your shorts off your body, and fuck you

He know you’d love it, you were so deprived of physical love and affection

He needed to exploit it

He touched himself at the visual of the two of you, when you hugged him over the couch, he imagined you raised your head then, looking up at him with those doe eyes of yours, he imagined grabbing your jaw and devouring you, kissing you hungrily.

He thought about pushing down on your back and him jumping over you, ready to eat you whole, ripped off your clothes and go at it right on the living room

He imagined how tight you would feel around him, as he snapped his hips into you over and over, oh! the sounds you could make, he had to cover your mouth with his big hand, to not wake Aerea

As he looked down at your desperate face, when he finally finds that spot inside you, your eyes would roll off to the back of your head, as he’d feel his hand wet with your saliva, your mouth open in desperation against his palm

Those tits of your, finally released from his prison, would be moving to the rhythm of his thrusts 

His big, fat cock in and out of you as he fucked you as deeply as he could go 

But once he started he would stop there, he would release you, taking himself out of you with no warning, making you whine and cling onto him, begging him for more

He knows he had you then

So he would grab you roughly, he wanted to see your ass now, he would turn you around so you’d be in all fours for him, and he would fuck you again, your round ass there in his grasp… your skin jiggling when the thrusted into you

Fuck

It was embarrassing to admit how fast he cummed, knowing you were just a few feet away from him

. . .

Soon another week ran past, Jace was coming and going from your house to his, now he couldn’t point blankly stay in your place, he had to return to his own home

But he came back… regularly

It was true, at least, the business part. He had invested most of his savings on this enterprise with his friend Cregan Stark, but it was just so perfect to use it for his own benefit

Apparently your interview had also played out, because now you were working, Aerea was in daycare, and Jace was currently on a videochat with his friend and business partner

“Well Jace, normally I would be against my best friend baby trapping some woman but phweet”, he whistled, “she is delicious”

“Isn’t she?”, he purred, he felt so proud of himself, he had sent his friend pictures, boasting about you like you were already his, and you somehow were, in his mind, “She is so fucking naive, and sweet, gods!”

Cregan laughed through the computer 

“Damn, and how do you plan on getting her though”

“Well, the devil’s in the details, I already have access to her place, her daughter…”

“You half sister”, mocked Cregan

“Already calls me dada, and adores me, I’ve already made myself indispensable at her home”, he continued, “she is totally dependant on me to do all the “toughest” things around the house” 

“Good good”, he purred, “so after it is all done.. what are you going to do?”

“Well, our company is going to be up there isn’t it?”

“You plan on moving her here?”

“When we start our relationship…”

“When you knock her up you mean..”

“I don't think she would want to stay here near all the people that know us so…”

“Good”, his friend seemed pleased

He heard you coming in the house then, and Jace got jumpy

“She is here, gotta go..”, he whispered

“Well Jace, good meeting, I’ll send you the details of the first shipment”

“And I will have those sheets for later…”, he said, continuing their conversation from before 

“Great”, you waved at him from behind the counter, and he smiled back, Aerea came rushing in

“DADDY!”, She greeted, and Jace couldn’t be happier, he grabbed her and showed her to Cregan through the camera

“Hi”, greeted Aerea

“And who’s that?”, teased Cregan, “Hello sweetie, she is a sweet little thing, looks like you Jace!”, he said loudly, winking at his friend, Cregan chuckled as you looked surprised

“Doesn’t she?”, he teased

The call was ended short after, and you looked a bit conflicted, Jace could tell 

You didn’t like the fact that Aerea called Jace “daddy”, it wasn’t healthy, your child needed to know, to remember her father, or else she was going to get all confused 

Luckily, Harwin had agreed to take her, the weeks he had his kids, so he could get help from Jace and Luke, and it was easier on him…

Perhaps he wanted some weeks off to see her… or others

Not that you’d care

You start putting some things you bought after work around, and you smiled fakely at Jace as he approached

“Need help with something?”, he asked, he had noticed you ahd bought a couple of bottles of wine, you were going to have the first week to yourself since… forever and a hot bubbly bath with a cup of whine and some strawberries with chocolate sounds like the remedy to all your problems

“It’s fine Jace”, you said softly, “Harwin is picking you both any minute now”, you made him remember 

He looked somewhat disappointed

“Right, this is his first week with Aerea, right?”

“Right”, you smiled

“Actually, I have a bunch of work to do, do you mind if I stay the night again?”, he asked

He was risking it, he thought

You could use some time alone, you thought yourself

But those big eyes of him, made you smile

You had all week

“Sure”, you said, faking another smile, he smiled back at you sincerely.

He didn’t like that fake smile on your face

He could tell he had overplayed it

“I’m gonna keep working…”

“Sure”, you said, you then turned to Aerea, “Let’s get you packed sweety, wanna go to papa?”

The little girl’s face lit up

“PAPA!”, she exclaimed, reaching for you, as you were going to take her to him

“Let’s go darling”, you whispered sweetly 

You felt Jace’s gaze as you walked down the hallway

He growled, frustrating, and he realized he had to change his strategy

He sat back in front of the computer and he finished his work, it didn't take him more than twenty minutes 

When you appeared back, you had a large bag in your hands, and Jace changed his plan right then, he put wavy his computer and gave you a smile

“Turns out I didn't have much work as I thought”, he said, “I’m done, and I should go to my dad’s”, you smiled then sincerely

“That is great,I know that I shouldn’t had said what i said, he is still your father and he loves you and cares for you deeply”, he smiled and nodded

You heard a honk outside

“There’s papa!”, Aerea applauded

Harwin might be a shitty husband, but he was not a shitty dad, Jace had to admit, replacing him was not going to be as easy as he thought

You were nervous as you led your little girl outside, it was going to be the first time you saw Harwin since you split

He walked to the door with a soft smile

“Hey darling”, he said, looking straight at you, and then he turned to Aerea, who jumped into his arms

“Hey”

Jace thought he was going to be happy to witness this debacle, but it wasn’t weird or angry, you were actually smiling tenderly at the fucker

“Jace, you are here”, muttered Harwinm, surprised, “thanks for keeping my girls company”

That was a low blow for everyone there

You stomach sank, but Jace got so angry

He didn’t deserve calling you his 

“We should go”, muttered Jace, grabbing Aerea, and you thanked him for it, to distract her, or else she was going to start crying when she realizes you are not going

You waved him goodbye as they got in the car and drove away

You loved your daughter with all your heart, but Gods if you needed a break from all of this

You had bought like a ton of chocolate, wine, strawberries, your favorite pasta dish, you even went as far as to go to the grocery store and buy yourself those “spa” bundles, that include a candle, a very bubbly soap, a nice soft loofah, and body cream for later

So you did exactly that

You got comfortable, got rid of your clothes, until you were in your underwear (a lacey little thing you had bought to entice Harwin), and you put a soft robe on top, just to cover your modesty. 

You cooked your pasta, with your favorite sauce, you poured some wine in your cup, as you watched from the kitchen your favorite show. And when it was ready.

You ate it with pleasure, congratulated yourself because it was as good as you wanted it, so delicious, very creamy. 

You poured more wine

then you watched some more twenty minutes episodes of your favorite soap opera and THEN… you melted the chocolate, cutted some strawberries, and with a bottle and cup in hand, you went to treat yourself to the bathroom

You filled the tub, you put in the entirety of that bubble bath and you sipped your wine happily until it was full, then you undressed, dropping pieces of clothing anywhere.

Despite what happened with Harwin in the last years, today, you were feeling particularly sexy, perhaps you were ovulating or something.

You undressed like the sexiest man alive was there, watching your every move, and then, you got into the tub, moaning to express the wonderful time you were having, the hot water instantly relaxing your tired body 

Oh shit you forgot the music

No matter.

The warm up for the tub had been so nice that, now you were horny, very horny. 

Your “sexy man” was watching, so you decided to give him a show, you dipped your finger in the chocolate and brought it to your mouth

Immediately the delicious taste invaded you

Your other hand went to one of your breasts, your nipples already hard. Oh fuck you were going to enjoy this

It had been a while since you felt like this… 

Since your baby-making months…

You placed a chocolate covered strawberry in your mouth, and moaned at the taste, and at the feeling of your fingers pinching your nipple softly

You were so horny, your hand traveled down the waters over your belly and you were ready to really treat yourself 

And then, just about when thing were starting to get truly fucking good

You felt the front door opening loudly. You heard a familiar voice calling your name

SHIT! JACE!

You gasped, as it was just down the hall, and the door to the bathroom was wide open, and your underwear was in the hallway, and by the soft candlelights coming from the bathroom…

“WAIT!”, you pleaded, “I’m in the bathroom!”

“I’m sorry!”, he lamented, you heard him getting closer

“Jace, don’t come in please”, you whined, your hand until over your pubis, gods, this was going to be so good.

And yet…

The need didn’t go away being almost being caught

“You good?”, asked Jace, just by the door

“Too good Jacey”, you said, not being able to hide how disappointed you were

“I’m sorry I interrupted you”, he sounded entertained, he had clearly saw your underwear there

“Did something happen?”, you asked

“Harwin and I had a huge fight, I’m so sorry I… should have called you, or gone home, but… the only place I deemed safe is… well… here”

You sighed, loudly

“Jace you caught me in a bad time”, you admitted

Oh he knew exactly what you were doing, and he timed it just perfectly

As you looked at the space of the open door, your breathing quickened

Jace was right there

And that didn't turn you off, it did the opposite

You almost got caught masturbating on the bath by the hottest twenty one year old you had ever seen 

But you shouldn’t, you whined to yourself

And as you looked down at the empty bottle of wine… at everything set up for your pleasure…

But you wanted the real thing

So so badly

You didn't realize though, that your “mental” whine, sounded for a real, a moan that got Jace’s blood rushing to his cock, and that made him take a single step, to watch you -in real life and not on his cellphone-, in that tub

You were looking at him wide eyed, as he had your panties on his fist, the ones from the hallway

“Jace?”, you called, you look like a deer in headlights, you didn’t hide, you didn't shrieked and demanded him to leave 

You just looked at him, with desire on those beautiful eyes of yours. 

Jace growled at the sight of your soapy breasts, peaking over the water, of if he could just take a picture of this moment

You had never been so beautiful

The whole scene looked like a renaissance painting

He grabbed his phone, he couldn’t resist, and snapped a picture

You didn’t even flinched, you even moaned one more time, your chest sticking out 

“You look so fucking gorgeous”, he admired, not being able to act any longer, this was it, it came sooner than expected, but anticipated nonetheless 

“Jace”, you called, but it wasn't accusatory, it was indeed, a call

He walked until he kneeled by the side of the tub

“When I said I was going to help you with whatever you needed, I mean… anything”, he teased with a wide smile.

You rubbed your tights together shamelessly, not trying to hide it, and Jace smirked darkly 

HIs hand disappeared under the water, down your leg and then

You moaned wantonly, like a common whore when a single finger grazed your folds

One touch, and you spread your legs wantonly

How long has it been?

Way too fucking long

“We shouldn’t”, you managed to muster, even though you spread your legs wider like a whore, he only laughed, not believing it for a second

“We shouldn’t… we fucking have to”

He was your stepson

Fuck

You forgot about it pretty quickly when he latched his lips to your, devouring you, taking your breath with only one lock of lips

He fucked you with two fingers, first softly, until you moaned and turned in the tub, asking for more, begging for it.

“You like it when your stepson fingerfucks you?”, he teased

“Yes!”, you admitted, because to you, this was only a dream, this couldn’t be happening, not really.

“Aren’t you a dirty little whore, uh?”, he kept teasing, “fucking men more than a decade older than you, you should be with someone who can keep up with you”

“Someone like you?”, you whined

“Fuck yeah like me”, he said, twisting his fingers until he found what he was looking for, then your eyes did traveled to the back of your head, just like he imagined it

And when you were about to cum…

He released you

“Mmmm why?”, you whined, tears in your eyes

“Because you had been such a tease”, he growled, you are going to beg me to fuck you”, you moaned, “I’ll be waiting for you in your room”, he whispered dangerously, and left the bathroom

Now you could put a stop to this right now, or you could get into your room and get your back blown out just like you needed it

The decision was pretty easy to make

You got out of the tub, dried yourself slowly, not daring to even touch your pussy, then you put on your rob, you could see Jace from the bathroom, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you with a smirk on his lips

Where was the sweet boy you had met the past few weeks?

Nowhere to be found

And that made it even more easy to do

You walked slowly, teasingly, your eyes on him, his eyes on you

You didn’t even cared to think about the consequences of this actions

You didn’t care

A primal need had taken a hold in your body, and you they were going to get sated

This was the culmination of years of sexual neglect… you didn't even dare to think about how wrong this was…

“Jacey”, you moaned, testing the opening of the robe, “are you sure?”, you knew your body wasn’t perfect, and yet, you had him here, looking at you like that, eating you with his eyes darkened like those of a hunter about to pounce

This wasn’t happening…

So it didn’t matter

It was all a dream

It had to be

it was definitely not the pills jace had replaced your birth control with

It was not the wine

It was a dream

“I can’t take it any longer”, he muttered, grabbing you by the fabric, ripping your robe from your body, grabbing your hips and drawing you to him, until you straddled him on the bed

You felt his… thick cock right under your pussy, and you moaned, wanted to feel it for real

“Oh yeah, rub yourself on me, you needy little thing”, he whined, he was so fucking sexy, as he looked up to you with those dark eyes, and chiseled like features 

He was wearing soft gray cotton pants, that did nothing to hide his monster cock

“Please Jacey”, you whined

“What?”, he teased, “you have been a really bad girl, you know? flaunting all of this in front of me, not even giving me a taste…”, his eyes trailed your naked body over him, his greedy hands grabbing and squishing everything he could get his hands on

You rubbed yourself on him shamesly, needily 

“I need you”, you whined

“Oh I know you do”, he growled.

You decided to take matters into your own hands. you separated from him a bit, just enough so you could grab the hem of his pants and lower them, releasing his…

Oh fuck

So you weren’t lying to yourself, it was big and thick, and already so hard, and leaking

All for you

“Mmmm”, you moaned, in anticipation, as you took it with both your hands, it felt so heavy, you couldn’t even wrap your hands around it

“Use it”, demanded Jace, you started rubbing him, pumping him, making sure to use his own precum to lubricate him.

“So big”, you barely recognize yourself, you didn't know what was happening, you wanted him so badly it hurted you

“Is all yours baby”, he whined 

If it was yours, you were going to do as you wanted, you dropped to your knees between his thick thighs, as Jace looked down at you with devotion

Only two of his fingers and he had you on your knees for him

He couldn’t even wait to see what was going to happen after he fucked you

He moaned, dropping his head back when you gave him a kitten lick at his tip

“Fuck”, there was no way you could fit it all in your mouth, so you used both hand to massage him as you took care of his tip, “yes just like that”

You moaned approvingly, trying to get as much as you could, but it wasn’t much

“You like sucking cock don’t you?”, he asked, his voice thick

“Yes”, you released him, only to answer, and then you took him in your mouth again, sucking his tip

“Shit!”, he cursed

He knew you were going to be… open… for it, but he never expected this, it was better than anything he could have imagined 

You wanted to please him, and he didn't rush you, yet, you tried to take more and more each time your head bobbed up and down

Not even half

But Jace stopped you

“I need you”, he demanded, he stood up and helped you up too, you undressed him at his request, taking his hoodie, shirt, and getting rid of his pants until he kicked them off of his feet

He looked down at you, until he grabbed you, drawing you to him

Your naked bodies collided as your lips with his

He was hungry for you, his tongue immediately asking permission to enter and you gladly granted it

It was dirty, wrong, and you fucking love it

This is a dream

This is a dream

You were a tangle of limbs, as you fell to the bed, but you wanted to resume where you left, so you make sure he accommodate himself on the bed 

Your marital bed

His cock rested over his stomach, as you accommodate yourself over him

“Take it slow darling”, he whined, you grabbed his cock still wet with your saliva.

Oh he so wanted to taste you

But tonight, it was all about you using him

You accommodated yourself over him, lining his thick cock with your entrance, and then, you lowered yourself

You moaned when he entered you, the stench was a bit painful, but you were so wet, it felt incredibly delicious

“Tell me darling”, he said, looking up at you, his hand grabbing your hips, squishing the skin, “who is this making you feel so good?

“Mmmm Jace”, you whined, taking another inch inside of you, you moved your hips in circles, easing him into you, it felt so good, to feel him rub against your insides, he was filling you so good.

“Who?”, he demanded

“Jace!”, you cried out, when he retrieved himself, to punish you for something

“Who’s this cock that your are fucking yourself with?”, he asked then

“Yours!”, he slammed down, making you take all of him in one movements, “AH fuck!”, you cursed, “So full”

“This is nothing”, he teased, “I want to see you full of my cum”

Gods those words enticed you to keep moving your hips, fucking yourself on him, until you found the angle you needed, for him to bully your special spot

“It feels so good”, he whined, “your pussy is so fucking tight”

“Your cock is so big”, you babbled, now going up and down

“I know, and it's all yours”

“All mine?”, you asked

“Yes, is this pussy mine?”, he asked, easing your clit with his thumb, making you shriek 

“Yes!”, you screamed

“You sure?”, he teased

“Mhmh”, you moaned

“Good girl, as long as it is only mine, you can have this all you want”, you started going back and forth with your hips, making Jacaerys draw his head back… but he couldn’t come just yet, he grabbed you, and with a shriek and a single smooth movement, now he had you under him

“Enough, now we are making thing my way”, he growled

And he started thrusting so hard into you, the bed started creaking dangerously under you, the board slamming against the wall

“Ah”, you whined, your pussy tightening so hard, squeezing him, jace had to work hard not to cum tight then and there

“Take it”

He couldn’t believe this was happening, this must be a dream…

You cummed, hard, didn’t even try not to, it was too much…

And Jace cummed right after, filling you with his cum

You didn't even think about the consequences, there was not going to be any…

This was just a dream…

He took himself off of you, and immediately you felt his seed dripping out of you.

He chuckled darkly, with one of his fingers, he collected it and pushed back inside you, with your moan resounding all over your room

“You are mine now”, he demanded

Sleep was taking you, you were exhausted…

And Jace only hoped this was enough to breed you, not like he didn’t want to have you more times… 

But the sooner the better…

Right?

I'm going to be honest, I was going to cut it right before the smut, and then I thought, I couldn't do that to you all

muahaha

She folded pretty quickly but I mean, who wouldn't?

taglist!

@champomiel @urmomsgirlfriend1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @lukepattersin @ladylyanna91 @snowflake-latte @bruher @bellstwd @inesven @iamavailablesstuff @haydee5010 @happinessinthebeing @agqrtz @ajanauia @joliettes @lightdragonrayne @ivoryluvs @fairysluna

[agustdef]

Will You

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Black!Reader

Genre: Fluff; Idol AU/Idolverse

Word Count: 3k

Warning: Light Language

Rating: PG-13

Beta Reader: @hobeemin

A/N: This was due to idk and I have so many ideas that I simply didn’t write a ff that ended up posted for much too long. So here’s to hoping to finishing these ideas.

“And without further ado, I am more than happy to introduce you to our keynote speaker Ms. YN LN.”

Clapping fills the room, and Jungkook joins in a beat late. His mind wandered as he’d listened to the other speakers for almost an hour. They’d all had interesting things to say, but something about being in a room with all these people with a person at a podium felt too much like school. Plus, a few of them seemed just to enjoy hearing themselves talk.

He refused to admit that to YN, though.

His beautiful girlfriend tried to give him an out when he said he’d come with her for this event. Told him how boring it would be and that she didn’t mind if he just did something else until she was done. Of course, he pushed for it, and she relented with one final warning about how he’d be bored as hell. To a degree, he’d known that going into it, but he wanted to support her. And to see her in her element.

Though they both work in the same industry, they’re on different ends of it. Jungkook as an artist and occasional writer, while YN worked legal. Their first encounter was when an American artist friend of his invited her out to dinner as a thank you for helping him with a contract issue with his label. They’d made him promises and tried to backtrack when it was time for the new contract. YN worked at a firm that specialized in that kind of thing, though they usually worked with smaller artists. His friend had been her big break, bringing in business and a promotion.

Of course, Jungkook was too much of a punk to ask her for her number at that meeting. He was too nervous about if it was forward, and he didn’t want to mess with the mostly professional nature of the event. But he got her card, and that was enough.

Until they kept bumping into each other at the more business-like industry events. Well, half bumping into each other and the other half him hunting down her name on programs and making sure to show up to those panels or events. It made him feel like a little bit of a stalker, but to combat that, he finally got his shit together and asked her out after running into her at a restaurant. 

Grateful to not be turned down was an understatement.

As they got to know each other, he felt himself fall hard and fast. She was perfect. Not in how one thinks when they hear the word, but in how that worked for him. That made their relationship work through the lows as well as the highs. 

I love you slipped out of his mouth five months in. 

If that didn’t explain why he put himself through this boredom, nothing, else would at least not in a way that made sense. His members still sometimes looked at him crazy with how he felt about her and how he could only sometimes find the words to explain it in a coherent way.

“I promise to try not making this too boring for y’all. I can not, however promise it won’t be boring at all. My line of work has to have some pitfalls besides all that paperwork,” YN joked.

The entire room laughs. It’s not the funniest thing in the world, but the way she delivers it and the energy she exudes as a person gets to people. It’s why Jungkook lets out a laugh that’s a little too loud and draws the attention of those around him. And of YN, though she doesn’t look his way to make that clear. He just nose from the way she pauses for a second longer, and her smile widens. 

Embarrassed isn’t even the right word for him at the moment. Part of him wants to flee the room, but he stays in his seat. It helps that anyone who side eyes him switches to being shocked to see him there. Being identified as a member of BTS is what he can handle; being embarrassed is not, despite what his variety show content and the lives over the years might suggest.

To let the feeling pass, he focused on the stage. Well, on YN.

“For those who don’t know me, I’m YN LN, and I've been working at Heights Law for the last six or seven years,. We specialize in fair contracts for indie artists. From things with their label to tours, merchandise, the people they hire, and even contracts between members if it’s a group. About thirty-five percent of those we work with don’t even have a label they’re signed to and don’t want to. And then about twenty percent of our clients are more mainstream artists looking for the same services.

We don’t work with any sort of label because we feel it ties us to worrying too much about keeping on their good side when trying to figure things out. And while we are not on a mission to do anything that would be, for the lack of a better word, line crossing with the people we are trying to get to sign the contracts, our clients come first. That’s made us stand out in a way y’all may have heard about a time or two. I’d like to personally apologize for making you sit through articles about a certain label trying to screw over up and coming artist Minx and all the weird things that were honestly not so weird about her tour rider.”

Again laughter, but with some whispers and grumbles thrown in. That entire situation had everyone in the industry confused as hell, and for the last few months, they thought Minx was trying to be greedy until everything was settled and it was shown that all her asks weren’t as crazy as they’d seemed. Even Jungkook found himself looking at YN like she’d lost it with every new bit of information that was released. He’d asked her about it, but she gave him a look, and he had to wait out the outcome like everyone else. 

“And for this, I think Minx is the perfect situation to discuss. I mean, when else will you see how things can go when a former lawyer turned pop star wants to sign with the label she used to work for but knows all their tricks.”

That was all it took to have people enthralled. After everything settled, everyone still had a million questions about it, but they were still waiting for someone at the firm to answer them. Jungkook had the fortune of dating YN around the time, so he got her to tell him, and Minx had invited them somewhere and told him more. So, he knew everything.

Which meant he could just stare at her. He didn’t think of himself as the type to be much of a creepy person, even if him trying to run into her wasn’t a clear indication of that. That and that looking at her was one of his favorite pastimes. 

YNs cute.

He would and did use a million words to describe her. But the first thought in his brain when he saw her was how cute she was, and he felt his heart triple in size from that alone. Her genuine smile and soft features do a lot to counteract the fact that she’s only an inch shorter than me, which throws people off when they meet her and had only seen her face before.

Those legs of hers, when she wears heels, drive Jungkook absolutely feral. And he has to fight off the thought of them as his mind spirals. He focused instead on the light tint of pink pushing through the brown skin because of all the bright lighting, the way there’s a stray piece of hair not as curly as the rest that she swears isn’t from heat damage, and she can fix, the soft red of her lips, and the way every part of her body seems light and open as she talks about a subject she loves. A look he’s familiar with and is how he knows she looks at him. 

More than anything, Jungkook is sure that YN loves him as much as he loves her, and like a revelation, he knows how much that is. How much space that love takes up in him, to the point that sometimes it feels like it’s overflowing. Right now, it feels like it’s overflowing.

“Questions?”

That one word pulls him out of his head, but he looks at YN with a clarity he didn’t have a few minutes ago, let alone a few hours ago.

Someone clears their throat, but his eyes don’t leave her.

“Why not just go with what the label wanted? I mean, sure, Minx had the background, but that shouldn’t make her any different than any other artist. Should she not be thankful to get into the place twice on different sides of it?”

There was agreement in the crowd, but it died out quickly with everyone else's quietness drop quiet.

Despite the shift in vibes, there’s a smile on YN’s face. 

“Why do you think that? Is it because others don’t have that same knowledge? I can see how that could be seen as unfair because it is. But because she has the background,, she used it to help herself best,, which made it so we could best help her and those in the future. However, I can assure you that they changed their contract language a lot since then. Height and many other firms who deal with them and this kind of thing all saw a shift for the better and for the worst with them. So, while you may wonder why Minx didn’t simply take what she should be lucky to have gotten from them, I hope you’re settled by the fact that unless the rare thing happens. Someone else does the same thing, no one else will be able to give the insight on how to best make the next contract work for the client in the way she did.”

The response is assertive, sarcastic, and professionally annoyed. It doesn’t leave room for anyone to say anything that doesn’t make them look any more like an ass. But the man at the podium opens his mouth a few times to try and figure out what to say. In the end, he walks away from the mic with his head down. Jungkook is sure that if it weren’t for pride, he would walk out of the room altogether.

“Any more questions,” YN said after a moment.

There’s one that Jungkook has. One he needs answered, but he finds himself glued to his seat.

Several people go up and ask their questions, all of them better than the first one, though some of them toe the line. There are also a few that Jungkook would deem flirting, but they don’t bother him. Not with the thoughts swarming around in his head.

Before he knows it, she answers the last question, and everyone is dismissed. A few linger to talk, but with this day being so packed, everyone wants to rush off to the next talk or event happening.

He sits in the seat for about fifteen minutes before she walks up to him, and when she puts her hand on his shoulder, he looks up at her startled, even though he watched her approach him.

“Ready to go?”

Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes as he stares at her. He feels all over the place, but none of it’s uncertainty or doubt.

“I have a question,” he managed.

“Huh?”

“I have a question. I didn’t get the chance to ask it in there. I was… I’m nervous to ask it, and I couldn’t do it in there.”

YN frowned. “You can always ask me anything, my love. No need to be nervous about it. Plus, I’m sure yours is better than some of the bullshit I get asked in general when it comes to work.”

For a moment, Jungkook says nothing. All he can do is stare at her and try to keep his breathing normal. The latter is the hardest part, but YN takes his hand in hers and squeezes it tight.

Taking a breath, he gets to his feet, takes both of her hands in his, and stares into her eyes. He’s more than sure about what he has to say.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

Question nor answer was said with any hesitation. However, Jungkook could tell that YN was still trying to process what was happening. He was too, but that wasn’t important now.

After a second, Jungkook released one of her hands, and with the other firm in his grasp, he led her out of the room. He hears her ask a question, but it doesn’t fully register in his brain. All his focus is on weaving through the crowd of people and out the door of the convention center. The place isn’t as isolated as some can be, so he walked past the parking lot where his car is and made his way past the hotel they were staying at.

“Where are we going?”

“Jungkook?”

“Jay?”

There’s a loud exhale too, but Jungkook paid it no mind. He’s on a mission. 

“For goodness sake, Kookie.”

YN matches his pace though she’s clearly confused by what the hell is happening. He knew he should say something, but couldn’t find his words just yet, so he kept walking until ten minutes later, they were in front of a popular celebrity-use jewelry store.

A few of the things he bought for himself and others - YN included - were from here, so he had a code that they gave him to get in. The door buzzed them in, and the moment that they walked in, there was a person there and ready to help. Though it might not be obvious to most, it was clear from the knowing smile on the woman’s face she knew what was up. 

Didn’t stop Jungkook from being so flustered, though. 

“Hi. Engagement rings. I mean, we would like to see engagement rings.”

Without a word, she directed them to the back of the store. They followed close behind her, and when they entered the room, she’s taking them to another person is setting down a tray of rings, with others sitting on a cart behind him.

Yeah, she knew.

Once everything is on the table, the man leaves, and they’re directed to sit. The woman who welcomed them stands on the other side of the table.

“This is a collection of all the rings we sell in the store. Though there are others, we can have custom made if what you see in front of you isn’t the right fit or you want a mix of styles. There’s a mix of the traditional sort and the non-traditional. Some are even without diamonds. Please, take your time to look through them and see if something catches your eye.”

Then she’s gone, and all the sound goes with her.

“We’re doing this?”

“You asked me.”

“True.”

Jungkook finally turns and looks at her, and despite all the nerves he’s feeling about if she’ll take it back, there’s a smile on her face. And a lack of anxiety like what’s going through him. Though he can tell, she’s a little thrown off by it all.

“I did. And I want to.”

“Then we better start looking, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

All the tension that was once there leaves the room, and they both turn their attention to the hundreds of rings in front of them. It’s an overwhelming site, but they dive into them. Jungkook tries to get YN to try some on, but she says that she doesn’t want to just yet, so they set them on the empty tray right in front of them. 

Each one feels perfect to Jungkook, but not right. More of the diamond rings that look how he’s used to seeing American engagement rings look like end up on the tray, which isn’t much of a shock with YN’s usual preferences.

A tray marked as morganite is second to last, and Jungkook almost avoids it, but then one ring calls to him. His eyes zone in on it, and he reaches for it just as YN gasps. His neck nearly breaks when he turns to look at her, but the slight pain means nothing as he follows her gaze to the ring he was reaching for.

Without another thought, he picks it up, takes her hand, and slides it into place. Though it’s a little loose, it fits her finger. The oval champagne colored gem is on a white gold band and surrounded on either side with diamonds that fan out, almost like leaves on the stem of a flower. They wrap perfectly around her finger and stop before they reach the palm side. Everything about it is YN. Is them.

“Perfection,” YN whispered.

“Yeah.”

And like the whirlwind that this was, Jungkook was happy to find that they had the same ring, the right size, on the premises, and he paid for it right then and there. It only left YN’s finger so they could clean it, and then it was on again.

They walked out of the room, and both were on a cloud. All those nerves Jungkook felt before were gone, but something else replaced it.

“I guess we have a wedding to plan. I can’t imagine when we’d even have it,” YN said.

“Now.”

Not the least bit startled, she turned to him with a raised brow. 

“Now?”

“I… I don’t know. Maybe?”

Silence sat between them for what felt like forever, and then YN turned her attention back to the jeweler.

“We need to see wedding bands, too,” she said, then turned back to Jungkook. “And you need to start making phone calls.”

[luxury-nightmare]

mom says it’s my turn on the writing

(I haven’t written for Doai but I haven’t seen much new stuff for the Sitcom Au and I refuse to let the flame die out)

For the first time in years, Dr. Hebert Lankmann had no control over the situation.

Sirens blared across the asylum, bathing it in red as the doctor rushed down the hall. He didn’t look back, he couldn’t look back, because he knew what was behind him, and he didn’t have the luxury of not knowing who it was.

Alex Willams. Specimen 03. The immune. That damned employee to nosy for their own good. Lankmann needed to know what made them immune, for the good of Eastridge and all of humanity.

(And maybe to cure his own sickness)

This was not what he expected.

Velidgun conversion was unheard of before Alex. The idea that a human could become one of those creatures had never crossed the doctor’s mind and he cursed himself for not seeing the signs sooner. How Alex seemed tired since inviting the Demon into their home, the frailty, the eyes.

But he hadn’t. And here they were, Demon chasing Human, as it should be.

Something grabbed his ankle, he didn’t look down, he just kept running. It pulled, causing him to fall. He scrambled to get back up, but it dragged him towards his pursuer. Lankmann finally got a good look at the thing, green and striped and sharp. A tail.

Something hit him on the side of the head, blood pooling from the wound. Alex went in for another hit, but the doctor swung his hands up to block it. “Alex please!” He cried, staring up at them. Far to many eyes looked down at him, crooked and yellow and staring down from a face covered in shadow.

Alex went in for another hit. Lankmann threw his hands up to block again, but missed, and they hit again. Lankmann got a look at their weapon, where the hell did they get a crowbar?

Thwack. Obsidian black claws gripped the crowbar, a purple eye staring back at the doctor from the back of the palm

Thwack. The tail dug deeper into his ankle, spines drawing blood.

Thwack. Wings, green as the forest, blocked Lankmann’s vision.

“Alex, we can be reasonable about this!” Thwack. The crowbar hit the side of his head again, forcing him back. His back hit the wall.

“Please Alex, I can give whatever you need!” A pause. Alex didn’t lower their crowbar.

“Let them go”

Lankmann paused. Alex’s voice was clearly stolen, like most Velidgun, but not from another person. It sounded identical to the silly cartoon Lankmann that was shown around the facility in training tapes. Alex did the voice for those right?

“Patient 66, Mortimer, Kruger, Winfrey, everyone. Let them free”

Lankmann paused, that last name. “Specimen 02-“

“It’s NAME” Alex interrupted “is Winfrey”

“You know I can’t do that Alex, those things are to dangerous-“

Thwack. The crowbar came down onto the doctor’s head once more, and as he looked up at the Velidgun before him, he knew he had sealed his fate as a dead man.

“Wrong Answer”

it’s jarring, to hear your own voice repeated back at you

Thwack

Thwack

Thwack

Lankmann looked back up at his attacker, but looking back at him wasn’t Alex Willams.

Looking back at him was the Angel of Silence

Angel of Silence idea was from @secret-spirit, and the overall idea was inspired by @redleaderdemon fic

[slowd1ving]

[BOTH AINT SHIT] SNIPPET ゜・BLADE, DAN HENG NSFW

they're both my #𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓿𝓻𝓸 literally minimal plot I just want to add more background to the roommate au lmao stress, strain: the tale of young modulus and a forlorn physics student (blade) << this is the roommate au go check it out stream B.A.S

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Perhaps he’s just angry with you. Routinely, when his irritation with himself and the world around him reaches a boiling point, it’s then that he chooses to finally pay heed to the eyes ogling at his figure. He’s not stupid: knowing fully that they want to take him to bed, and he won’t refuse when he wants to get out of his head for a while. 

There’s something satisfying about your reaction—eyelid just about twitching, a tight grip on your Earl Grey as he waltzes into the kitchen with pyjama pants and not much else—that evokes a grim smirk from him. But these girls just aren’t satisfying him anymore. Soiled, tied-off condoms litter the waste bin in the corner of his room—not proof of his enjoyment, but rather the persistence of the people he’s with to get him off.

You’re just some guy Kafka stuck him with—so why the hell is he thinking of how your body glistened in that heatwave?

There’s something wrong with him. 

You notice it too, watching how he brings someone new almost daily with him now—seriously, is this guy trying to get with half the city? He’s lucky it’s summer, but you certainly aren’t. 

Of course, you complain at your next gathering with the Trailblazers—drunken condemnations of the man who’s just a prick. You get so frustrated that Stelle practically shoves Dan Heng into you to take you home; he only really loses the reluctant air when you assure him Blade won’t be back until later. 

And maybe it’s the whiskey you both consumed—or maybe it’s the lingering memories of the last time he kissed you right after a successful concert, warm and sloppy and dizzying—that slots your lips together once more. He’s pressed beneath you on your bed: back arched as you gently stretch him out with your fingers. Like this, with tears leaking down his eyes and a wobbly smile across his face as the seams of your joined lips gather salt and faint pricks of blood—you can’t help but disregard the door you forgot to close properly. 

It could also be the adrenaline—Dan Heng feels so utterly breathless as you pump his weeping cock, getting off to the fact that he’s the one you’re fucking in Blade’s own apartment. 

“Don’t—ngh—stop.” Blade freezes when he hears the distinct sound come from your room: hard, fast sounds of tacky skin-against-skin; a wooden bed frame squeaking ever so slightly; and the familiar sound of fucked-out whimpers. 

He can’t bring himself to move from where he’s stone-still in the small corridor leading directly from the front door. While breathy and high-pitched, it’s definitely a guy—and that’s not you he’s hearing. His senses are sharp, so he does manage to pick up groans that sound much more like you; and for some reason, the back of his neck prickles with a burning sensation. 

His grip on his keys is harsh enough to draw blood—faint, pungent copper wafts up from his palm as he walks past your door to get to his room.

Except, the door’s been left slightly ajar and he takes the opportunity to see exactly who is coaxing your song out from you. 

His breath hitches and his red eyes widen at the sight. A lean, muscular back faces him—busy being split apart on your dick. From what he can see, you’re leaning back on the bed: cradling a mop of wavy black hair while his mouth is latched on your chest. He’s bouncing slightly, while your pelvis angles up to meet the plush flesh of his ass with a sickening squelch. 

The man pulls back with a pop, and it’s then that Blade glimpses from the side the face he most despises. 

Dan Heng. 

And…you.