#Montrose Links

[sirislayer]

Montrose Lo-Fi Study Hours Or so I've been told.

[sorryfucker]

my contribution to the small (BUT GROWING) joe/rhys fandom

[abliafina-18782]

No Time to Die

Pairing: Joe Goldberg X Rhys Montrose

Author's note: Never thought I'd be one of those authors who are like "oops my fingers slipped" but guess what, here we are 10k words later. The opinions stated on mental health are in no way reflective of my own. It's meant to be perceived as the characters not understanding mental health issues, not that they're dismissive of it.

Warnings: HEAVY ANGST. Follows the 10th episode of season 4. Canon Typical Violence.

Word count: 10,7k

I have never understood what makes a person want to die.

I want to live, I like living, and being locked up in the nick gave me more reasons to keep living. Life isn’t all sunshine and roses, you're honestly daft if you think otherwise, but it means you can't just tap out when things are getting tough.

I'm not a soppy person, never have been, and never will be, and yet there's something about you that I can't put my finger on. You are a nail in the coffin to the British aristocracy, everyone’s worst enemy, an American. You cunning, brilliant, and absolute fool of a man. I thought a bloke like you, someone who’s lived from rags to riches, would know better.

We've just parted ways after taking care of old man Lockwood. It was your idea to get rid of him for Kate’s sake; nothing has seemed amiss. Even though you lied and said it was exhilarating to kill Vic, I can't think of a more fitting word to describe your actions. You were meticulous in a way I haven’t seen you before. You didn't hesitate despite the doubt visible in your eyes. You left Hugo to bleed like a stuck pig in front of Lockwood, before taking care of him as well.

We were a piece of well-oiled machinery you and I, cleaning up the bodies swiftly, and if I may say so, with style, adding that flare only you can create.

I thought I’d finally gotten through to you, that you were accepting your true nature.

You always worry people are going to be afraid of seeing this side of you, and yet nothing could've been more marvelous. I was flattered when you showed me the box of items you’d gathered from me. And I wasn't afraid when you stripped and tied me to that chair, no I was impressed. Impressed by the measures you were willing to take to find me.

You don't scare me, Joe Goldberg, not a lot of things do. Except for seeing you standing on the bridge’s railing, that scares me.

Continue reading

[ricksketchbookagain]

Montrose Species Sheet v2

The montrose (planet of femboys) needed a full species sheet so enjoy the new and expanded version of the thing for your enjoyment. Chain Unbroken is out! The trilogy is complete! You can read it all right now! https://mybook.to/finaldayswf2 < Amazon links! https://www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/50769 < Smashwords links! https://geroo.space/index.php/Anthology2 < Check out our open call for art and stories for our second anthology!

Posted using PostyBirb

[itsyoung8]

If the preppies had Twitter

HI GUYS I'M BACK!!!! Please excuse me for this long absence, I have just finished my exams. So I'm now available to post again regularly!!

A while ago I had thought about (it doesn't happen often so believe me when I say this lol) to make headcanons on a character but I didn't really know who to do and then came up with the idea of doing a "if the students of Bullworth Academy had twitter" so here is what it would look like for preppies:

Pinky Gauthier:

Popular Twitter

She tweets "Hello", she has 500 likes and 152 RT

Twitter is his diary

In her bio there is a link to her Instagram

Derby Harrington:

"Harrington never lose" in bio

Makes problematic tweets

He was suspended several times

Settles scores with Johnny in space every 4 mornings

Bif Taylor:

Defends Derby at all costs whenever he's in the sauce

His pinned is his thread on his favorite hip-hop and rap sounds

His PP (Profile Picture) is him with his Bose Championship belt

He blocked Jimmy after the latter displayed himself with the boxing champion's belt

Tad Spencer:

He has a private account on which he spits his hatred on Derby

He posts pictures of the pastries he makes in his free time

participated in Mister Twitter (I swear we had that in France lmao) but lost

blocked Cedric Grolet

Gord Vendôme:

Twitter with a lot of followers too

Hit-tweets because they're funny

Makes indirect comments on his crush so that the latter understands that Gord is talking about him (this is Vance)

Once he saw a picture of Jimmy in an "awful" outfit (he was the one who said it) he flagged the tweet for violent speech

Parker Ogilvie:

his tweet "WHAT DO YOU MEAN A FRIEND OF MINE DID SOME WEIRD THINGS WITH MY GARDEN GNOME????" it became an iconic tweet

"gnome stan account" in bio

A real ray of sunshine in the TL

More follows than followers but he doesn't care

Chad Morris:

Has put Chester in header

Rt tweets about animal protection

He and Ricky have blocked each other but insult each other's family trees in space

Has a private account where he likes Lola's tweets

Bryce Montrose:

Doesn't have time to go because he juggles classes, work and boxing

Justin Vandervelde:

Tries to make people laugh with his tweets but they flop

When there's a scuffle in space, it adds fuel to the fire

In his "likes" there are only tweets from Ted and the other preppies

His dream is for Ted to follow him back

[rhaenella]

You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Masterlist

Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks. 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, (eventual) smut

Total word count (so far): 102k

A/N: Multi part Rhys Montrose x Female Reader fic. FYI, this fic will incorporate the use of Y/N. I have decided to also post this fic on AO3 (same username as on my Tumblr) and to change the x Reader to an Original Female Character over there using a fictitious name. That will be the only difference. So, if the use of Y/N isn’t your thing, go ahead and look the fic up on AO3 :)

Below you'll find the links to all the parts that have thus far been uploaded. I will try my best to upload a new chapter each week. Every part is also accompanied with a 'soundtrack', these are all listed below as well. Finally, a little preview of what's to come... I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoy writing it! There aren't a lot of Rhys x Reader fics out there, so I hope I can bring some extra flavour to the table.

Ps don't forget to watch the trailer/edit I made for the fic! x

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23

Soundtracks: 00. Feeling Good – Nina Simone 01. Royals – Lorde  02. Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene – Hozier  03. (I Just) Died in Your Arms – Hidden Citizens  04. Secrets And Lies ��� Ruelle  05. No Good – KALEO  06. …Ready For It? – Taylor Swift 07. Meet Me In the Woods – Lord Huron 08. The River – Daisy Jones & The Six 09. The Silence – Manchester Orchestra 10. Power – Isak Danielson 11. wicked game – Jessie Villa 12. Beautiful Crime – Tamer 13. Toxic – 2WEI 14. Cherry – Lana Del Rey 15. In the Air Tonight – Natalie Taylor 16. Whole Lotta Love (Dermot O’Leary) – Hozier 17. Lavender Haze – Taylor Swift 18. Don’t You Know – Jaymes Young 19. One For My Baby – Frank Sinatra 20. Run Baby Run – The Rigs 21. Sinnerman – Nina Simone 22. And so It Begins – Klergy  23. Darkness In Your Heart – Cowbell

Preview

Song: Feeling Good – Nina Simone

The sound of the heavy door opening as it noisily scraped the floor made you look in his direction. 

Rhys entered slightly out of breath, looking positively dishevelled as he ran a hand through his unruly curls.

“What happened to you? Killed another person?” You couldn’t help but teasingly joke, taking in his state as your eyes roamed freely over his physique. 

Rhys had put his hands on his hips, taking some deep breaths to slow down his heart rate. When he looked up at you, head tilted to the side, he shot you his charming smile that feigned innocence.

No way.

You stared at him. 

No way the man was truly this brazen.

He started to move closer to you, his eyes mischievous as they betrayed his wicked actions. You marvelled a little at how quickly you were getting better at reading him. Perhaps you recognised the murderous tendencies from the mirror. 

[luciidsimmer]

Favorite Male CC: Skin Details & Hair!

CC linked below!⇩

Check out my Favorite Male CC video HERE

Clothes Links

Skin Details

Skinblends

Gaia

Mercuria

DC (Still looking)

Strudel

Butterish

Fresco

Tinsel

Eyelashes

Uncurled

EA Lash Remover

Hair

Facial Hair

Beard Set

The Beard Set +

Hair

Hello, I Love You

Messy Locs

MaleHair3

MaleHair8

Taper Fade

Faded Curls

Lined Up Bun

Sponge Curls

Curly Top Bun

Gary

Samuel

Riley

Finley

Mario

Crane

Devon

Dante

Russel

Marcel

Sebastian

Miami Braids

Jazz Riff

Lorenzo

Reakwon

Federico

Winona

Montrose

Deimos

Messy Bun Dreads

Kelani

Matthew

Lucas

Gilbert

Buzzcut

Mullet Dreads Pt.2

Manifesting Locs

Comet

[blueraineshadows]

Brothers Part 15

Garreth Weasley 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Oscar Weasley

A love rivalry between two Weasley brothers. Oscar is an OC created by @eternalremorse and used with her permission.

Chapter Master List (including Ao3 link)

Tags: NSFW, pregnancy, injury, fluff

Chapter 15 - Epilogue

Four years later…

Morning sunlight filtered through the window, the sky clear with barely a cloud. The summer breeze was warm and light, teasing at the curtains that Oscar had recently opened. He hummed to himself, a smile tugging at his lips as he found eggs and bread, gathering items to make breakfast. Shirtless, his pyjama bottoms hanging low on his hips, his eyes glanced across to where two mugs sat ready for the tea that was brewing in the pot. 

His smile widened. It was lovely to have a few days off from the season tour. Coach had been pushing the team really hard, but Oscar was thriving on it. He had never played better, and the team was doing well. A break in Quidditch matches meant he could spend some quality time in his own home, a small flat he rented close to the Montrose Magpies stadium, a well earned rest before getting back to the adrenaline rush. 

Still humming a little tune, he poured the tea into the mugs, adding some milk before carrying them towards his bedroom. Nudging the door open with his bare foot, he crept in, smiling at the little mop of brunette hair that poked out the top of the blankets. Avoiding the items of clothing strewn about his bedroom floor, thrown there in a hurry last night in their eagerness to get their hands on each other, Oscar placed the mugs on the bedside table. 

“Wakey, wakey, sweetheart,” he said softly, reaching to grip the edge of the blanket. He tugged it back, grinning as the mop of hair slid further under, a low groan sounding from the warm cavern beneath. “Come on, Poppy. You can't lay in bed all day. MC will be waiting for you.” 

“It's not my fault someone kept me awake most of the night,” Poppy grumbled, shifting under the blanket. 

Oscar chuckled, his hand sliding underneath the blanket to seek out warm, soft flesh. His fingers found a thigh, and he squeezed. “I didn't hear any complaints at the time.” 

Poppy squeaked and squirmed, her head appearing out of the blanket, her hair mussed and her cheeks flushed with sleep. She smirked, her eyes darkening with mischief as she held up the blanket, offering a teasing glimpse of curves he knew so well. She quirked an eyebrow. 

“I have a couple of hours before I need to meet MC. I suggest you get yourself back under this blanket and wake me up properly.” 

Oscar didn't need to be told twice. Breakfast could wait. He dived under the blanket, his hands roaming over warm curves, fingers tickling at soft flesh as he relished the sound of her delighted giggles. 

….*....

The bell above the shop door chimed and the sound of heavy boots on wood drifted through to the brewing room where Garreth was bent over a cauldron, studying the contents carefully whilst checking the notes in an open book on the bench beside him. 

“I'm back!” 

Garreth didn't lift his gaze from the potion as he stirred carefully. “I'm in here,” he called out. 

Sebastian appeared beside him, the scent of fresh summer air mingling with the aroma of his cologne, the skin of his face sun-kissed with colour and freckles. He put his sales case down on a table and pushed a hand through his wild brunette locks, peering over Garreth’s shoulder with a grin. 

“This looks promising,” he said. He gave Garreth a pat on the shoulder before moving to grab up the little black kettle from a stove. “I sold the last of those energy restoration potions this morning. I stopped off at Diagon Alley and saw Prewett in The Leaky Cauldron. He put me in touch with a few of his colleagues at the Ministry, and I sold the lot.”

“Nice one,” Garreth said, glancing over his shoulder with a smile and spotting the kettle going on. “I'll take a brew seeing as you're making. How is Lee? I've not seen him for a while.”

Sebastian set the kettle to boil and began to hunt for some clean cups. “He doesn't change, still impossibly neat and full of himself,” he chuckled. He paused and shook his head. “But he did have a girl with him, a proper little fox as well. She had a lovely set of boobs. I don't know how he does it.”

Garreth laughed, lowering the heat under his cauldron and setting the ladle aside. “He's a charming bloke, Seb. Why wouldn't he get some tail? Don't tell me you're jealous.” 

Wiping his hands on a tatty rag, Garreth turned and leaned his hips back against the workbench, the sunlight streaming through the window glinting on his curling, red hair. His shirt sleeves were rolled back, his collar open, and his cheeks were flushed from the heat of the room. 

Sebastian's sleeves were rolled back too, but his shirt and waistcoat were smart, his trousers were well cut, and his boots were well polished. As the travelling sales rep for their little potion business, he had to look the part. Combined with his handsome looks and never-ending charm, he had their customers eating from the palm of his hand. 

For the last three years they had worked long hours to get this little shop off the ground, a tiny wreck of a place on the edge of Hogsmeade that they had renovated and scrubbed up into a charming little business. Garreth’s dream of being a potioneer was a reality, and it had come with determination and the help from those closest to him. 

Sebastian was his partner, both of them sinking every coin they had into the business, selling potions on the sly during their last year of school before scouting out a premises right after graduation. Despite the concern of his brothers and some words of warning about his Slytherin friend, Garreth had no regrets trusting Sebastian. 

His friend was chuckling and shaking his head as he found some milk and a bowl of sugar. “Of course I'm not jealous,” Sebastian said, his smile turned devilish. “I'm doing just fine with the lovely Emma from the tea shop. Thank you very much.”

“Is this one going to last?” Garreth quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the biscuit tin down from the shelf and popping the lid. “She seems to be keeping you amused. You could bring her to the wedding.” 

Sebastian held up a hand. “Easy now, Garreth. There's no need to rush into anything. If I escort her to your wedding, MC will be whispering in my ears about putting a ring on Emma's finger before you two even get to say I do.” 

“She just wants to see you settled and happy, mate” Garreth said, offering the biscuit tin out towards him as he popped one into his own mouth, speaking around it. “She worries about you.” 

“And I love her for it, but I'm not unhappy,” Sebastian said, grabbing a cookie. “Life is chugging along nicely. I'm not saying marriage is off the table, I just haven't found that one girl that makes me want to jump in yet. We are not all as lucky as you, Weasley.” 

Garreth smiled and took the steaming mug that Sebastian was holding out to him. He knew he was lucky. MC was his whole heart. He lived and breathed her, their lives woven around each other so tightly that he had forgotten how he had managed without her. 

In two weeks, she would be his wife. His heart thudded madly at the thought of it, a smile curving his mouth every time he caught sight of the ring on her finger, a symbol that told the world she was his, and would be forever. 

“Emma is a darling, though, mate,” he said, leaning back against the workbench. “I think you should escort her to the wedding. What if Lee brings his fox with the lovely knockers?” 

Sebastian grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Then I shall ask the little fox for a dance.” 

They both laughed, Garreth shaking his head. 

“You're never going to stop winding Leander up, are you?” 

“Never,” Sebastian smirked. He waved his hand and shrugged. “It's all in good sport, though. I mean, if he was to get down on one knee and snag himself a lovely wife, I would be one of the first to shake his hand and congratulate him. He's a good sport. It's just so easy to get him all flustered and blushing.” 

“We should organise another card game night,” Garreth said, thoughtfully. “Get all the boys together again.” 

“Good idea,” Sebastian said, raising his mug. “We could do it just before the wedding and call it your stag. Your last foray into social gatherings as an unmarried man.” 

“No funny business,” Garreth said, wagging his finger. 

Sebastian grinned. “Pfft, says the King of Mischief.” 

Garreth's look of mock innocence would fool nobody, and they both chuckled into their tea mugs. 

….*....

The sun was hot, the sky a clear and endless blue, but under the canopy of the forest, it was cooler, shadows stretching deeply into the undergrowth. A world apart from the lazy summer outside of the trees. 

MC was crouched low in some bushes, her eyes trained on a lone unicorn that was snuffling into the scattered leaves that lay on the forest floor. There was a wound on her flank, her blood glittering in the low light. 

“At least it doesn't look too deep,” Poppy whispered, creeping closer towards MC and peering through the branches. “Shall we try and get a bit closer? I have some snacks that will distract her while we check the wound.” 

MC chewed at her lower lip, her gaze drifting towards her friend beside her. Poppy wore her hair cut level with her chin, her nose and cheeks dusted with freckles brought out by the summer sun. In the years since they had left school, they had remained close, venturing out to check on various beasts from time to time. 

Her gaze wandered down towards the collar of Poppy’s blouse, the fabric gaping slightly and revealing a love bruise on her lower neck. MC arched a brow, intrigued. 

“A snack?” MC asked quietly. “Looks to me like someone has been snacking on you, Poppy.” 

MC hooked a finger into the collar of Poppy’s blouse and tugged it aside, the bruising continued on towards her collar bone. Poppy sucked in a breath, her cheeks flooding with colour as she hastily brushed MC’s hand away and smoothed her blouse closer towards her skin. 

“You weren't supposed to see that,” Poppy mumbled, her gaze dipping away. Even her ears were flushed pink. 

MC’s mouth twisted in amusement. “It's not like you to get all shy about something like that. Is this still the Unspeakable chap you were seeing? He’s back in town, is he?” 

“He isn’t an Unspeakable,” Poppy winced.

MC frowned in confusion. She was sure that Poppy had explained that his frequent trips away were to do with top secret missions. “I don’t understand. I thought you said..."

Poppy fidgeted with her top button, avoiding MC’s gaze. “It’s complicated.” 

“Oh really?” MC said, worry creasing her brow. “In what way?” 

MC frowned a little as Poppy carefully stepped out of the bushes, her steps slow and deliberate. Poppy was not usually so embarrassed about her love affairs, happily divulging the details of steamy kisses and flirtations with her gentleman. Why the blushing and secrecy with this one? 

“I just...I didn't want to say too much until I was sure,” Poppy said, peeking up through her lashes. "I really like him, MC, and I do want to tell you."

"So, tell me," MC said, curiously tilting her head. "What is stopping you?"

Poppy flicked her gaze towards MC, her blush darkening further as she hesitated, and then she turned back towards the unicorn, her brow furrowing. “I'll tell you later. Come on, let's see to this lovely lady first.” 

Curious and suspecting either this one was married or perhaps someone she knew, MC made a mental note to probe further once the unicorn had been taken care of. 

Following Poppy towards the beast, they managed to keep her calm with soothing words and treats, MC stroking her silky mane whilst Poppy cleaned the wound and applied ointment. 

“I might as well gather some hair whilst I'm here,” MC said, pulling out a muslin cloth from her little bag to wrap it in. “Garreth always appreciates the rarer ingredients when he can get them.”

Poppy handed her a brush. “Here, use this. How is our favourite potioneer? Is business going well?” 

“Yes, things seem good,” MC said, smiling. “Sebastian has proven rather a dab hand at sales, and they have some regular clients now.” 

“Ah yes, that will be that irresistible Sallow charm,” Poppy smirked. She smoothed her hand over the unicorn's glossy coat, her teeth worrying at her lip. “How is Sebastian these days?”

“He is well,” MC said softly, eyeing her friend. “He works hard at the shop, and he receives regular letters from Anne now. He misses her still, but at least they are back in contact.” 

Poppy nodded, her smile warm. “I'm glad to hear it. He deserves some happiness.”

“What of your happiness, Poppy?” MC asked, her eyes shifting to Poppy’s neck. “Are you going to tell me who your suitor is?” 

Poppy’s cheeks flamed into colour again, her mouth parting as though to speak, but the flash of a spell firing between them put a halt to anything she might have said. 

MC jumped back, Poppy crying out as she tumbled to the packed dirt of the forest floor. The unicorn whinnied in distress, bolting through the trees in a clatter of hooves as MC scrambled to pull out her wand. Poppy was choking in distress, clutching at her throat as blood began to trickle from the side of her mouth.

“Poppy!” MC cried, stepping towards her, but the thud of many footsteps made her pause.

Her eyes widened as hooded figures began to flood into the clearing. Poachers. There were so many of them, and it had been a long while since MC had taken part in any combat, preferring to snuggle up beside the fire with Garreth these days. With her magic, she could probably take all of these poachers at once, but ever since that day she had murdered all those people in front of Garreth, she hadn’t taken another life.

Gripping her wand tighter in her sweaty hand, MC moved to stand in front of Poppy, holding up her wand. Her hand shook, the poachers jeering at her, slowly surrounding her with their wands raised. Her chest tightened, her lungs seemingly empty and screaming as the panic began to claw at her. Her worry for Poppy swam sickeningly in her stomach at the sound of her desperate gasps for air, blood bubbling from her lips.

“Well, well,” a woman said, stepping forward. A scar ran the length of her face, splitting her lips in a vertical slash. She smiled, and MC shivered at the grotesque twist. “If it isn’t the little hero of Hogwarts. She’s all grown up, fellas. Look at her!”

A few of them chuckled, but some of them took a few steps back. MC lifted her chin, holding up her wand in an attempt to appear completely in control of the situation. Some of them feared her, and with good reason. They didn’t know she had changed. She had a reason to stay on the right side of the law now. She had Garreth. She was going to marry him next week. 

She wasn’t a killer anymore. No more shadows. 

The scarred woman fired off a basic cast, the flash hitting the dirt in front of MC’s feet. She flinched, her breathing ragged as she stared wildly around at the circle of enemies. The woman laughed, shaking her head.

“A bit jumpy, aren’t you, love?” She tilted her head like a bird of prey. “The little hero isn’t scared, is she? Your friend doesn't look too clever. She might even die. That’s a shame.”

“A shame for you,” MC hissed through her teeth. “She’s a Sweeting. I bet you’ve heard of them.”

The scarred woman stiffened, turning to glance at the man standing closest to her before leaning to peer at a choking Poppy on the ground. MC could feel every panicked thud of her heart in her ears, desperate to get to Poppy and help her.

“They do have a daughter,” the man said, throwing a worried glance towards the scarred woman.

“Maybe they do, maybe they don’t,” the scarred woman said, her eyes narrowing in on MC. “But, bringing this little bitch back to the boss will earn us high favour. I say we take her, and worry about the choking welp afterwards.”

It was a subtle flick of the wrist, but MC caught it, hours of training with Sebastian and the Crossed Wands club had taught her many tricks. MC threw up a shield easily enough, the hex rebounding in a flash of sparks. She met the eyes of the scarred woman, her body slipping into a duelling stance, her heart filled with Garreth and his gorgeous green eyes. 

She had made a promise to herself. No more darkness, but she wouldn't go down without a fight either. 

The clearing erupted into a frenzy of spells, the flashes and sparks lighting up the gloom of the forest, a flock of ravens squawked as they fled the trees in a flurry of black wings. 

….*....

The two silver rings sat neatly in the little wooden box, nestled in a bed of black velvet. A pair. Two symbols of eternal love and commitment between a man and wife.

Oscar stared at those rings and tried to imagine the moment Garreth would slip the more slender ring of the two onto MC’s finger and make her officially his. Once, he would have envied that moment, the twist of it pulling him down inside and reminding him of what he’d had within his grasp. Now, he saw those rings and felt a warmth, a happiness that bloomed in his chest. Not just for his brother’s joy, but because there was a glimmer of hope, his own heart beating with a new thrum for someone who had slipped under his skin, and in the most unlikely situation.

“I can’t believe the wedding is only a week away,” Garreth said softly.

Oscar lifted his gaze from the rings to look at his brother, seeing a shadow of apprehension flicker in his eyes as he smiled. 

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

Garreth’s smile wavered, and he fiddled with the rolled up sleeve of his shirt, his eyes dipping away from Oscar as he moved around the shop counter. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, his cheeks colouring. 

Oscar closed the ring box with a little snap and moved towards the shop counter, placing the little box onto the top between them. “What is it that worries you, brother? You are marrying the girl of your dreams.”

Garreth’s little huff of laughter conveyed his disbelief, his nerves on full show now as he shook his head. “That is the problem, Os. I still can’t believe that she said yes. We shall be handfast, our lives connected forever, and I’m not sure I deserve to be that lucky. I mean, look at me. I’m just a humble shopkeeper who creates more mess than success half the time, and she is this warm, generous, and amazing witch who could change the world if she wanted. What is she doing with me?”

“She chose you, Garreth,” Oscar said, his eyes softening. Garreth had always been sensitive, hiding it behind his humour and his chaotic pranks. The gap between their ages was so close, but Oscar had always taken his older brother role seriously. “She loves you. It’s obvious just from the way that she looks at you, and she has never wanted that worldwide glory. You know that as well as I do. You give her what she needs, and she will marry you next week because that is what is supposed to happen. She was always meant to be yours, brother.”

Garreth nodded, his lips pressing together as he attempted to work through the emotion that was darkening his eyes. He reached out to touch his fingertips to the top of the little wooden box, caressing the polished wood gently. “Look after these, won’t you? I don’t trust myself not to lose them, and MC will Incendio my backside if I do.”

Oscar smiled as he picked up the ring box. “Of course, isn’t that what the best man is for? I shall take good care of them, and don’t worry, this time next week I’ll be right there beside you, making sure you don’t mess up. All you have to worry about is saying ‘I do’.”

Garreth nodded again, his smile a little wider. “Thanks, Os.”

“Don’t mention it. You should have more faith in yourself, brother. You’re a good man, and you have worked hard to build up this business. That’s no small feat. I’m proud of you.”

“I hope all of this is going into your speech,” Garreth grinned.

“What, and miss out on the opportunity to tease you in public? Not a chance,” Oscar chuckled, pocketing the rings.

Garreth leaned on the counter, eyeing Oscar curiously. “So, are you bringing a date to the wedding? I haven’t heard you mention any young ladies lately. Surely, the well hasn’t run dry?”

Oscar felt his cheeks turn hot, redness spreading across them as he dipped his gaze, running his hand through his copper hair. He thought of Poppy, how she had looked this morning waking up in his arms, and the realisation that he wanted that every morning, not just on the days they could snatch together here and there.

“Oh, brother, you’re blushing,” Garreth said, his mouth splitting into a wide grin. His green eyes sparkled in delight. “Who is she, then? She must be something special to get you as red as a tomato. Since when do you blush?”

Oscar bit his lip, the urge to tell Garreth the truth welling up his throat, the words forming but halting on the tip of his tongue. Poppy was nervous about telling MC. So far, they had been meeting in private, enjoying the time to explore this new side to their relationship. Poppy was worried that MC might be upset, her best friend taking up with her ex. They hadn’t found a way to reveal the truth yet, but Oscar wanted to. He wanted the whole world to know. 

“It’s…complicated,” he said carefully. 

Garreth’s brow creased. “Bloody hell, she isn’t married, is she?”

“Of course not!” Oscar said, shaking his head. “I’m not that much of a rake.”

Garreth raised an eyebrow at him, and Oscar flipped his middle finger up at his brother with a scowl. Garreth laughed and beckoned him towards the rear of the shop, heading for the kettle on the stove. 

“Let me put the kettle on, and you can tell me all about her,” he said. “It’s only fair seeing as you listen to me ramble on about MC all the time.”

Desperate to share what was blooming inside of him, Oscar followed Garreth into the rear of the shop, settling down on the worn settee as the tea was being made. The truth had to come out sometime, and who better to help reveal the truth to MC than his little brother?

“Well, if you really must know, then I’ll tell you,” Oscar said, a fond smile playing on his lips. “It all started when she came to help with that charity fundraising I took part in for the unicorns…”

….*....

The steady rise and fall of Poppy’s chest was the only indication that she was still alive. MC watched the movement, her eyes glassy as she sat rigid on the hard hospital chair. Behind her eyes, the fight under the trees played out, the snap and flash of spell casting, the groans of pain, and the trickle of sweat down her neck. The scent of mud and blood. She shivered, pushing back on the wall of shadow that threatened to loom over her.

She hadn’t killed any of them, though. She had stuck to her word. Instead, they were all on their way to the Aurors office for processing. She didn’t think she would ever forget the look of hate in the eyes of the scarred woman.

A firm hand on her shoulder made her look up, and she felt his warmth, Garreth’s green eyes soft and worried as he looked down at her. He handed her a cup of hot tea, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “You should let the nurse see to that wound on your temple,” he said.

“I’m fine, the Wiggenweld will do its work,” she said softly. “I’ve had worse.”

Her gaze returned to the pale, still form of Poppy in the hospital bed. The Healers had done all they could for now. They just had to wait for her to wake up. 

“I thought I was going to lose her,” she whispered, the fear of it snaking through her stomach with a roiling lurch. She reached for Garreth’s hand. “Those poachers just came out of nowhere. I wasn’t even paying attention to our surroundings. I was too busy trying to get the truth about her mystery lover out of her, as if that was more important. What if she dies?”

“She’s not going to die,” Garreth assured her, crouching down beside her chair and taking her hand more firmly in his. “Poppy is safe, and this wasn’t your fault. You got her here. You saved her.”

Looking at him, the warmth of his hand holding hers, she felt that safety net catching her. One look from him pushed the shadows back, holding them at bay for a moment so she could breathe. 

“I love you,” she whispered. 

“Not as much as I love you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “You have got to stop scaring me like this. Every time you appear all banged up and bloody, I swear my heart nearly falls out of my mouth.”

“It will take a lot more to bring me down than a few poachers,” she said bravely.

“That’s what worries me.”

Her gaze moved back to Poppy in the bed, the thought of her mystery lover floating across her thoughts again. Garreth was right here beside her, soothing her and holding her hand, his love for her making him remain here above all else. What of Poppy’s lover? Would he want to be here by Poppy’s side and offer comfort?

“If I knew who she was seeing, I could have sent an owl for him,” MC said, sipping her tea. “I don’t understand why she won’t tell me who it is. She is being so odd about it all.”

Garreth dipped his head, and she caught the little glance he sent towards the bed, his teeth worrying at his lower lip as he tugged at his shirt collar. Her eyes narrowed as colour bloomed on his cheeks, and he shifted slightly, his fingers rubbing against the back of her hand. 

“She will tell you when she is ready,” he said, still not meeting her gaze. He couldn’t lie to save his life.

“Garreth, I know that look anywhere. It’s the look I get when you’ve burnt another hole in a cooking pot, or set fire to the tablecloth,” MC spoke slowly, her cup of tea poised, her gaze fixed on his lowered head. “What is it? What do you know?”

His groan, combined with his eyes closing, almost made her smile. Almost. He was such a big kid sometimes, but her curiosity was caught, and she leaned forward.

“You know who it is, don’t you?”

“I only found out today,” he said, his eyes wide as he gripped her hand. “Don’t be mad, okay? It’s actually rather sweet when you think about it.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, her stomach tensing. “You mean I know him? Who is it?”

Her mind danced through some options. Was it Sebastian? Had they decided to try again? Or maybe it was the bloke from the bakery that looked like a young Professor Sharp, they had giggled over that one for a few days, Poppy making MC’s eyes bulge with her naughty remarks about their old potions teacher. 

“It’s Oscar,” Garreth said, his face lingering between hope and concern.

MC went utterly still. She stared at Garreth as the words went into her ears and drifted through her mind like smoke, her thoughts desperately trying to catch hold of them but they swirled into a dizzying mess that made her mouth pop open in shock. “What?”

“He told me earlier today that he was seeing someone, and I was surprised too when he said it was Poppy,” Garreth said quickly. “They didn’t know how to tell you. Poppy was worried you would be upset.”

“Upset?” 

“Yes. Are you… upset?”

MC shook her head, her eyes moving towards her friend. She couldn’t help but let her gaze linger on the spot under the collar of her hospital gown where the skin was marked with a lover’s bruise.

She shivered, her hand slipping from Garreth’s grip as unbidden images of Oscar’s mouth leaving marks on her own skin seeped into her head. Now he was touching Poppy, kissing her, whispering in Poppy’s ears as he had done to her. Closing her eyes, she shoved those thoughts aside. They were irrelevant.

There was a flicker of fear in Garreth’s eyes, there and gone before he hid it, his throat working hard as he stared at her. MC was not so foolish as to ignore the look she saw in his eyes sometimes. If Oscar and her laughed together, or maybe he would hold her elbow to assist her, or maybe they would smile as he handed her something over the table at family dinners. She could not change the history she had with Oscar, but it was history. They were family now, and her heart was Garreth’s.

But, his fear was not something to be ignored. She did not blame him for it. How could she? She was certain that her own insecurities would play into similar thoughts if the role was reversed.

Oscar had accepted MC’s love for his brother. He had supported them, helped fund the set up of the shop, and had been the first to congratulate them on their engagement. He could have easily been difficult and horrid, and nobody would have blamed him. His heart was big, almost as big as Garreth’s, a trait that seemed to run in the very blood of their family. 

And now Poppy has gravitated towards that warmth. Could MC really blame her? She could see the attraction and had fallen for it herself. Like Oscar, MC should be able to accept their choice and let them be happy.

MC wondered if Poppy had always felt that way about Oscar. Is that why she had wanted to know every detail about MC’s relationship with him - had it been more than just her impish curiosity?

Perhaps those were details that didn’t matter. Not anymore.

What bothered MC more was being lied to by her friend. A friend that could be placing herself into the hands of a man who had the potential to hurt her. Poppy had admitted she really liked her lover, her blushing face earlier today confirming it. What if she really liked him and he discarded her like all the others? MC had feared that for herself when she had been in his arms, and if he hurt Poppy, it could split a crack into their lives that might never heal.

“I need a moment,” she said, standing. She placed her tea on the table beside Poppy’s bed and avoided Garreth’s worried eyes. “I’m sorry. Just give me a moment.”

“Of course,” he said quietly. 

Garreth’s generosity and patience made her heart squeeze as she left the hospital room, her chest tight with the heaviness of the day, her mind reeling with it all as she tried to keep a grip on her breathing. 

….*....

Fear was a metallic taste on his tongue as Oscar raced to St Mungo's hospital in London. Garreth may have said in the note that Poppy was alright, that she had been with the Healers and was resting now, but that didn’t stop the black hole of fear from ripping his stomach to pieces.

He was trembling as he ran through the doors and along the corridor, coming to a stop only when he saw MC leaning against a wall, her face pale and drawn. She was hurt too, a wound slowly healing on her head, and blood stains in her hair as she turned her eyes on him. 

She stared, the depths of her gaze still holding that magnetism that he had come to accept as something that would always be there, no matter how much time had passed. Her mouth tightened, and she pushed up from the wall, her eyes glittering as she nodded.

“You came,” she said quietly.

Garreth had warned him that MC knew the truth, and Oscar swallowed as he nodded. “Of course I came. Where is she?”

“She is sleeping and safe. Garreth is with her,” she said, looking down the corridor. Turning her gaze back to him, she indicated for him to follow. “Come with me.”

The room that she led him to was empty, the bed neatly made and no sign of Poppy anywhere. “This isn’t her room. Where is Poppy?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” MC said, turning to face him.

Oscar was reminded of a day when they had stood in a quiet room like this, and she had crushed him. He pushed the memory aside. He just wanted to see Poppy. She was all that mattered to him now.

“What could be so important that you need to talk about it now? I want to see her, MC,” he insisted.

“I know you do, but I just wanted to talk to you first,” she said. "I need to know where you're going with this, Oscar. She is my best friend. I don't want to see her get hurt."

There was a shadow behind her eyes, a flicker of something painful, and she looked away for a moment, her chest heaving with a steadying breath. He watched as her hand pressed against her chest, fingers agitated as she rubbed them against her blood-stained blouse before she continued.

“I want to know why you two felt the need to sneak around behind my back and lie to me like you have. You could have told me. I…”

She stopped, her breath catching.

“I’m not playing any games, MC,” he said, stepping closer. “I really like her. This isn’t some reckless fling.”

“Then, what is it?”

He met her gaze and thought of a crisp, winter’s night, the way she had looked under the moon.

“Do you remember what you said to me that Christmas in my parent’s garden? You said I would meet someone who would make me forget what it was like to breathe before they came into my life. Well, that’s Poppy. Only, she was there all along and I wasn’t ready to see it. You made me question what it was that I wanted. After you, I was more honest with myself and any girl that came along. When Poppy and I came across each other again, it just felt… right. I can’t explain it.”

“When you look into their eyes and everything just seems warmer, safer, and life without them would be empty and cold,” she whispered. 

Oscar nodded. “I think I love her, MC, and I don’t want to mess this up. Neither of us does. We held off telling anyone until we were sure. The last thing we want to do is hurt you, MC. You mean so much to Poppy. She loves you,” he said, hesitating as he looked into her eyes. “And you mean a lot to me, too. You always have, despite everything. I meant what I said. Trust me, MC. Please. I want to do this right.”

Her lips trembled, and a lone tear slipped from her eye. She brushed it away, looking up at him. “You love her?”

MC dipped her head, nodding slightly as she considered his words. She stepped towards him, their bodies so close he could smell the soft scent of her, his eyes fixed on the face of the girl who had entered their lives and changed so much. She was dainty and beautiful, her eyes holding a depth of warmth, but those lingering shadows that held her in their grip were still there. He hadn’t been able to save her from them, but his brother had a way of chasing them off and continued to do so.

He felt his cheeks flame like they had when he had confessed to Garreth. Receiving the news that Poppy had been badly hurt had shaken him to his core. The thought of losing her really was like having the ability to breathe snatched from him.

Looking at MC, staring into her eyes, he hoped she could see the truth of his words. More than anything, he wanted her to finally trust him. He nodded. “I do love her, MC.”

Poppy had shadows, the ghosts of her past tormented her at times and she had moments when he had held her and listened to her speak of the crimes her parents committed against the animals that she held so dear to her heart. She trusted him with her truth, and that was something that he would never forget, the honour of knowing her deeper because she allowed it to be so. 

MC pushed a finger into his chest, looking up at him with a fierceness that he had rarely seen in those soft eyes of hers. There was an edge to her look that was almost close to the shifting dark he had seen in Sallow’s eyes a few times, and he once again wondered what secrets lay between those two. He could have sworn he saw flickers of blue and white fire in the depths of her gaze, too, as she eyed him.

“I'm going to trust you, Oscar Weasley,” she said, her voice so soft and yet laced with something that sent a shiver down his spine. “I’m sorry I never trusted you with my own heart, but I’m going to trust you with hers. If you hurt her in any way, you will have me to deal with.”

“I’d never hurt her,” he said, hoping that the sincerity of his words showed on his face. “I’d rather hurt myself first than hurt Poppy.”

She nodded, removing her finger from his chest. The cold fire was gone from her eyes now, and her lips twitched with a smile, her usual softness glowing on her face. “You know what? I think I believe you.”

….*....

Sleep was tugging him softly downwards, the warmth of the bed blankets and the softness of his pillow luring Garreth into the welcoming darkness. He allowed his body to relax, the tension of the day beginning to slip from his shoulders as the mattress dipped beside him. He cracked open one eye, a closed lip smile tugging at his mouth as MC crawled in towards him, her hair unbound and loose about her shoulders. He reached for her, welcoming the softness of her encased in her nightgown.

Whilst his eyes remained closed, the lingering lure of sleep still there, he welcomed the feel of her kiss at his throat, her mouth blazing a trail over his skin and her hands smoothing up the expanse of his bare chest. When her lips found his, he kissed her back, cupping her head to hold her there for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his mouth. He opened his eyes and met her gaze. She caressed his cheek, her nose rubbing against his. “I’m sorry I walked away from you in the hospital today.”

“It is forgotten,” he murmured gently, seeking more kisses from her tempting mouth. “You needed to think, I understand.”

She straddled him, the weight of her against his pelvis waking the fire in his belly, chasing the allure of sleep far into the night. As their kisses deepened, his hands dragging the nightdress from her shoulders as she began to rut against him, the fears that he had written in his journal seemed to fade into smaller wisps of thought. Like dust motes, they flickered and shifted, twisting away as their bodies connected.

For a moment there this afternoon in the hospital, he had feared that she still held a candle for Oscar, that her leaving the room like that had meant her jealousy had won out. But then, she had returned with Oscar in tow, her smile softer as she watched Oscar fuss over Poppy.

It was hard to remember his insecurities, the worry that he wasn’t enough for her, when she fell apart in his hands. Staring into her eyes as they moved, their passion, a blaze that made them gasp for the very air to breathe, he knew this was forever. 

….*....

Sunlight filtered through the window of the bedroom, and MC took a moment to look out over the fields of the Weasley farm. The day couldn’t be more perfect, the sky powder blue and delicate wisps of clouds adding a softness that mirrored her heart. Nerves might be dancing in her stomach, but they were the best kind of nerves. It wasn’t fear. It was anticipation. Today was a milestone being placed, the start of the next chapter, and she was ready to turn the page.

The sound of the door clicking open made her turn, expecting to see Poppy with the flowers for her hair, but it wasn’t her. Instead, Sebastian crossed the threshold, dressed in a fine dark suit and burgundy waistcoat, his hair as neat as it would ever be. He gazed about the room before his dark eyes finally found her, his face shifting to a look of soft awe.

“Look at you,” he breathed, closing the door and walking towards her, hands outstretched. “You look so lovely, MC. The perfect bride!”

She could see the shine of his eyes and gripped his hands tightly, gazing up into his face with a wobbly smile. “Don’t you dare make me cry, Sallow, or I will have to fetch my wand.”

“And what if you make me cry, hmm? What shall I do then?” He chuckled, blinking his own eyes free of tears.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, her voice betraying just how pleased she was to see him. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs with the others waiting for me to make my grand entrance?”

He took a deep breath and looked at their joined hands. “That’s just it,” he said, his voice strained. “I didn’t want you to walk out there alone.”

“What do you mean?”

His cheeks coloured, and he fidgeted, biting his lip. “Well, I got to thinking about traditions and how the bride is usually escorted to her fiance by her father. I didn’t want to let proceedings start without at least making the offer, and of course, you can say no… It’s entirely up to you…”

“What are you talking about?” MC stared at him, almost holding her breath.

“I thought I could give you away if you'll let me,” he said, blushing furiously. He shook his head, flustered. “I mean, it's not giving you away entirely because I don't want to get rid of you. Of course, I don't. I aim to be the pain in your backside forever and a day, but someone should escort you to your new husband, and I thought…well, I wondered…”

“I would love you to do that,” she said, interrupting his rambling whilst squeezing his hands tightly. Her eyes burned, threatening to spill tears that would ruin her makeup. “Sebastian. You never fail to surprise me, and I love you for it. I can't believe you thought of this.”

His smile was so sweet, boyish almost, despite the harder lines of his face now. The years she had known him had only strengthened the bond between them. He was the obvious choice to give her away, and she wished she had thought of it herself. 

“Don't cry, now,” he said. “Otherwise I shall be needing to fetch my wand. I'd be honoured to take you to Garreth. You two are so important to me, and nothing will make me happier than seeing you two finally hitched.”

“Look at you being all sentimental and soppy,” she teased, a smile shining through the welling of her eyes. 

“Pfft, don't get used to it,” he said, trying and failing to look cool and collected. His face twisted up into the mockery of a frown. “And I still can't believe you're going to be a Weasley. MC Weasley. That's going to take some getting used to.” 

She laughed and pulled him closer, squeezing him tightly, suddenly feeling so very grown up in her wedding gown. How quickly adulthood had come to claim them. 

The door opened, and Poppy stepped through, her eyes widening at them. “Oh, I'm sorry,” she said, wincing as MC and Sebastian parted. “Did I just interrupt a tender moment?” 

“Ridiculously tender,” Sebastian said, turning to offer Poppy a sweeping bow. He smirked, eyes twinkling. “Miss Sweeting, or is that going to change and become another Mrs Weasley rather soon? I swear they will take over the world one day with that name. There are so many of them!” 

Poppy blushed a brilliant red and swiped her hand in Sebastian’s direction, her other hand clutching gorgeous summer blooms for MC’s hair. 

“Oh, give over you scoundrel,” she huffed, but her eyes twinkled with just as much teasing as his. “You didn't seem to mind when a particular Weasley cousin was smiling your way just before.” 

MC cocked an eyebrow and smothered a chuckle at the tinge of pink on Sebastian's face. 

“I haven't the foggiest what you mean, Poppy dearest,” he said. He turned to MC and offered her a bow, too. He smiled. “I shall wait at the foot of the stairs for you.” 

With a wink for them both, he was gone, closing the door softly behind him. Poppy watched him go with a small sigh, and she shook her head. 

“He has so much charm it is almost dangerous,” she said. 

MC met her gaze, and they giggled, a happiness blooming in MC’s chest that stole her breath in the best possible way. 

….*....

One year later…

Catching the end of his pencil between his lips, Garreth studied the sketch he had drawn onto the page of his journal, the lines quick but flowing in his haste to capture the moment. He lifted his gaze up to where MC stood at a window, her eyes staring out at the lovely gardens laid out in the courtyard of St Mungo's Hospital. One hand was supporting her lower back, and the other lay atop the beautiful swell of her stomach. His eyes softened, his mouth lifting in a smile filled with love as he watched her, his gaze dropping to the sketch he had made to capture this moment. 

“I hope you haven't made me look like a whale,” she said, turning her head to smile at him. 

“Impossible,” he said, closing the journal and pocketing it. “I only draw what I see.” 

He stood and moved towards her, stepping up behind her and smoothing his hands over her stomach, feeling out for those precious little wiggles underneath. His child, their child. He couldn't wait to hold him or her. 

MC put her hand over his, leaning back against him with a sigh. “I can't believe this will be over soon, and baby Weasley will be here. This is our last check-up before the birth.”  

He hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Just think, our little one is almost ready to arrive, and Oscar and Poppy are only just starting their baby journey. I'm taking full credit for Oscar planting one in her so soon. He couldn't be outdone.” 

MC laughed, the sound filling his ears and the vibration of it pleasant against his chest. The baby kicked firmly against his hand, and he grinned. 

“Don't say it like that,” she scolded gently. “I think it's wonderful news. Poppy is so happy she could burst. She will make a wonderful mother.” 

She fell quiet, and Garreth soothed his hands over her bump, his kiss soft near her ear. As their due date grew closer, he could tell MC was apprehensive, worried about being a good mum. 

“As will you,” he said firmly. “You have so much love to give, MC. You will be amazing, I just know it.” 

He saw the flash of her smile and held her just a little closer. He had never loved her more. 

“Mr and Mrs Weasley?” 

They both turned to see a nurse smiling at them. She gestured down the corridor. “The Healer will see you now.” 

He reached for MC’s hand, their eyes meeting as she turned from the window. “Ready?” 

She nodded, her smile reaching her eyes as she squeezed his hand. “I'm ready.”

Together, they followed the nurse towards the Healer's room, exchanging pleasantries with her, sharing their excitement about the future, and welcoming their unborn child into the world.

The first of many he hoped. 

The End

Thank you. Thank you to everyone who read this fic, left comments, reblogged and liked, came to say hi on Ao3, or helped me flesh out ideas on Discord. I love and appreciate all of it. This fic was a journey, and I am sad that it is over. I've become closer to Garreth and Oscar, explored their personalities, and loved every minute.

Thank you!! And, on to the next...

[happy74827]

Always The Fool

{!!SPOILERS!! SEASON 4 EPISODES 1-6}

[Rhys Montrose x Female Reader]

Synopsis: You find out that the killer who had been targeting your friends was the man you trusted the most.

WC: 1,213

Warnings: Uh... just Rhys ig

I kinda accidentally made him like Joe in this, oops, but actually now that I think about it, I guess it’s fitting lmao. Also, I wrote this with the intent of it being a standalone, but this can be read as a sequel to 'The Devil's Tango' too.

If you want to read it, you can find the link to ‘The Devil’s Tango’ here

『••✎••』

You were deeply in love with Rhys Montrose. The way he looked at you with his piercing blue eyes made your heart skip a beat every time. The way he would hold your hand and pull you close to him, made you feel like nothing else in the world mattered. There was a passion between you two that was undeniable, and it only grew stronger with time.

You had never met someone like Rhys before. He was charming, witty, and had a mischievous glint in his eye that made you weak in the knees. He knew how to make you laugh when you were feeling down, and how to comfort you when you needed it the most. You trusted him completely and he trusted you.

The two of you had been through a lot together, and it only made your bond stronger. You had confided in him about the stress of your job, and he had listened to every word, offering support and advice when needed. He had even taken you out for drinks and dinners to help you unwind from the pressure.

As your relationship progressed, so did your trust in each other. You had shared your deepest fears and insecurities, your hopes and dreams, and your love for each other had became unbreakable.

But now, as you looked at Rhys, your heart heavy with the realization that he was the killer responsible for all your friend’s deaths, it all felt like it had been built on a foundation of sand that was now crumbling beneath you.

Rhys’ eyes met yours, and you saw something in them that you had never seen before. There was a coldness there, a detachment, that made you feel as if you didn’t know him at all. The man you thought you loved was a stranger, a killer.

Your mind was racing, trying to make sense of it all. How could you have been so blind? How could you have missed the signs? You felt a wave a guilt wash over you, as if you were somehow responsible for the deaths that occurred.

Rhys took a step closer, and you took a step back. “Don’t be afraid, love,” he said, his voice softening.

You shook your head, unable to comprehend what he was saying. “How could you do this? To our friends?” You asked, your voice shaking with emotion.

Rhys shrugged, as if it were a trivial matter. “Oh, give me a break, darling. They had it coming. They were greedy, selfish. They didn’t deserve to live.”

You felt a surge of anger, of disgust. How could he be so callous? How could he justify murder?

“You’re sick,” you spat out, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. “You’re a monster.”

Rhys smiled, as if he were pleased with your reaction. “You’re just realizing this now?” He asked, his tone mocking.

You wanted to scream, to lash out at him, but you felt paralyzed, as if you were trapped in a nightmare. The man you loved was a killer, and you felt like you had no way out.

Rhys stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. “Don’t be upset, darling. I’m doing it for a better life. For us,” he said, his voice soft.

You recoiled from his touch, feeling sick to your stomach. “For us? How could you even say that?! Those were our friends! My friends…”

Rhys sighed, as if he were both disappointed in you and annoyed by you. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic?!” Your eyes widened, “You murdered my friends, Rhys. My friends that—“

“They were never your friends.”

Rhys' words cut through you like a knife. You felt a sharp pain in your chest, realizing that maybe he was right. Maybe you had been blind to the truth that they were as fake as they came, but you knew even if they were complete rich assholes, none of them deserved what they got.

You took a step back, trying to distance yourself from him. “How could you be so heartless?”

Rhys shrugged, as if it were a fact of life. “It’s not being heartless, darling. Metaphorically speaking, I saved them from a life they never deserved.”

You shook your head, unable to believe what you were hearing. This wasn't the man you fell in love with, this was a monster wearing his skin.

As you looked at Rhys, a sudden realization hit you like a ton of bricks. This man was not just a murderer, he was a psychopath. His lack of empathy, his detachment from reality, and his twisted sense of justification made you sick to your stomach.

You knew you had to get out of there, to leave this man and his darkness behind, but as you turned to walk away, you felt a strong grip on your arm.

“Where do you think you're going?” Rhys said, his grip tightening.

You looked at him with fear in your eyes. “Let me go, Rhys,” you said, trying to pull away.

But he didn’t budge. “Darling, let’s talk about this some more, hmm? I’ll pour you a glass of chai tea. Your favorite.”

You turned to look at Rhys with determination in your eyes. Your heart was racing as you realized the gravity of your situation, but you refused to give up hope.

“I won't let you get away with this,” you said, your voice shaking but resolute. “I'll make sure you pay for what you've done.”

Rhys chuckled, but it wasn’t menacing or cold. His eyes weren’t dead-like, in reality they had lightened up. The sound he made was the usual one that came out during your old dinner dates. The genuine laugh he used to make at the expense of your clumsiness. It left you standing there dumbfounded.

“You're absolutely adorable, darling.” He sighed, with a bright smile. His genuine smile.

The smile caught you so off guard that It left you standing there dumbfounded as you blinked, confusedly, before feeling the release of pressure on your arm. Rhys had let you go, even to the point of walking away.

“Where… where are you going?!” You shouted at him, not even daring to move an inch. As you stood there frozen, unsure of what to do, your mind raised to the possibility of him harming another one of your friends. Your close, actual friends. Who would it be next? Kate? Jonathan? Phoebe? Adam? Adam would probably be next… wouldn’t he?

“Don’t worry, love, I wasn’t lying about the tea.” He shouted from inside the kitchen, “It is important that we talk about this though, so I’d rather you not force me to engage in a game of tag.”

You hesitated to speak, still debating your choices. Although you wanted to move, your heels stayed locked in place. It was like your brain wanted to hear him out. You’ve realized then that even with the new information, your heart still carried him in it.

“Plus,” he interrupted your thoughts, peeking his head out from behind the corner. In his hands held the last remaining teabags you’ve had in the drawer. As he glanced down at you, his eyes darkened. But it didn’t necessarily seemed directed at you.

“There’s still the whole matter with Jonathan.” He spoke, softly, “They’re things that I now have to make you aware of.”

Wait… Jonathan…?

————

Did I leave this open for continuation? Yes, yes I did.

Will I actually continue it? No, no I won’t.

[ask-elland-n-will]

[Exposition for how Elland's Halloween night was going. No actual interactions, just a transition.]

It has been a rather eventful evening for Elland. First, he had to make sure that William was back to the party safe and sound. His friend calmed down a bit but insisted on looking for Montrose, which was bound to lead to more tears. Elland excused himself.

Second, his own Polyjuice transformation proved to be a surprise: Elland had no idea how Sebastian's hairs were commandeered for the swap but Elland was likely to be the only "Sebastian" at the party. And as such, the amount of dancing requests kept piling up. Elland knew that Sebastian wouldn't do anything he didn't want to do, but the Hufflepuff underneath felt rather bad about denying people.

That, and Elland liked dancing. He wasn't as used to it as William or as passionate as his brother (if Cy's dancing could even be called that), but there was a special kind of bond shared in the space between two dancing partners. Perhaps he could get to know some of those people better once he is back to being himself.

He felt bad pretending to be somebody else when it came to the questions of the heart, which clearly some of those people were interested in beyond just dancing with the handsome Slytherin. And so he hinted at not being the real deal, which some took with a tint of sadness, others — with hissy tantrums. Everyone knew about the potions swap that night. Perhaps he wasn't in the right to break the illusion?

William certainly was under no illusion. He's seen Elland dance plenty of times over the years, not to mention that—

"Sebastian? My dorm mate Sebastian, asking me to dance? Whoever you are, handsome prince, I see right through you!" the prefect said, his beak proudly up in the air. And then, accepting Elland's hand: "Shall we?"

As they danced, Elland finally relaxed while Will babbled on about what little things had given Els away and how Will would've portrayed the other Slytherin. The little sna— niffler shared some rumours regarding today's event as well (not that Elland believed rumours, especially not knowing who was who tonight). Who pranked who (Asani was levitating frogs into people's hair) and who snogged who ("Merlin, Will, I don't need to know who my brother is snogging!")

And also how whoever got Felix in the swap was an unhinged lunatic! Asking people to duel was just the tip of the iceberg — apparently they escaped the designated area and were seen flying on a tree trunk around the castle and waving into Ravenclaw windows! In all his frustration, Will was rather intrigued: was "Felix" able to land on the Ravenclaw roof even if they were not really a Ravenclaw?

At some point, Elland swirled past Cassandra and got nearly burned by the anger in her eyes. "Don't worry, Elland," he told himself, chuckling nervously at whatever Will was saying, "It's not about you!" But for the rest of his time as "Sebastian" he danced in the opposite corner of the ballroom.

Elland danced, ate tasty food and enjoyed the company of his friends, but it saddened him that not everyone was able to celebrate Halloween with them. He thought back on last year's party and sighed. There was one person in particular who he rather enjoyed dancing with and sharing a conversation. Elland sighed and decided to take a break, politely sending Fred away, promising to ask him to dance once the potion's effects wore off.

Still wearing his "Sebastian" skin, Elland comes up to the snack table to grab some water, and that's when he sees HER.

[Link placeholder for the future ask]

[maxinepixels]

One of the biggest things I've ever built... St. Louis Cathedral and Park This was made for my save file, specifically for the city of Montrose, Louisiana. Montrose is based on New Orleans, one of my favorite places in the whole world.

A link to my YT channel, with a tour of the custom city I made is listed below.

[scotianostra]

On March 7th 1671 Robert “Rob” Roy MacGregor was baptised, his actual birthdate is lost in the midst of time.

As early as 1690 he became a noted raider; and on the revival in 1693 of the proscription of the name of MacGregor, he adopted his mother’s name of Campbell as a surname. He secured leases of lands between the estates of the rival noble houses of Montrose and Argyll, and for many years was active in buying and selling cattle and also in raiding whenever opportunity offered.

In the Stuart Uprising of 1715, Rob Roy led part of the Clan Gregor in the wake of the rebel army but kept his men out of the battle of Sheriffmuir and other important engagements, although they were alert to participate in any plundering.

For the next ten years MacGregor continually preyed on the estates of the Earl of, Montrose, and although several times apprehended he always managed to escape or secure a pardon through political influence.

Many of his exploits are related by Sir Walter Scott who describes him as a large, broad-shouldered, powerfully built man of great athletic prowess, with such extraordinary length arms that when erect his wrists hung below his knees This was an exaggeration used by the old folk who used to tell the stories of him.. His red hair was very thick, and frizzled and curled short around his face.

Rob Roy MacGregor died 28th December 1734 at his house in Balquhidder, and was buried in the churchyard in that parish where his gravestone is one of the most visited in the country, although there is some debate whether he is actually buried there at all.

T e head of the Clan MacLaren, Donald MacLaren, says the grave in the kirkyard near his home is a “myth” which is part of “McGregor propaganda”. He believes Rob Roy was actually buried in an unmarked grave several miles away, at one point he attempted to have the grave dug up so the remains to be DNA tested. This goes back to an ancient feud with the MacLaren and MacGregor Clans, the latter believing Rob Roy’s clan were “incomers”. The graveyard is also the location of the Old Balquhidder Kirk, burial place of the Chiefs of the Clan MacLaren. The present Clan Chief has said;

“The MacGregors are content for the story to continue that he is buried in Balquhidder because it builds up their claim to be one of the original clans of the glen. That’s not the case, they were incomers much later on and caused a great deal of trouble.

Of course it isn’t as straight forward as this. I said earlier out eponymous “hero” died at his house at Balquhidder, and by most accounts it was a peaceful death, in his sleep-but, another story says he died of his wounds after a clan duel in the field directly south of the church. MacGregor had argued over ownership of some land with his neighbour John MacLaren of Invernenty, Rob Roy lost the fight and died of his wounds, thus ceding the lands to the MacLarens, who still own them today. If this version is indeed true would he have been buried on land sacred to the MacLarens?

Parish records do not record a funeral. A newspaper account in the Caledonian Mercury on 9th January 1735 tells of Rob Roy's death but makes no mention of a funeral. Early Victorian accounts, written a century later, refer to a funeral on New Years Day at Balquhidder.

However, Rob Roy's gravestone is much older, that is the slab covering the plot, the actual headstone and the railings are more recent. A local tradition says that Rob Roy was buried in the MacGregor burial ground on the island of Inis Cailleach on Loch Lomond.

A trail called Bealach nan Corp, or Pass of the Corpses, links Balquhidder to Loch Lomond. This route was often used to carry MacGregor dead to their original homeland, so it makes perfect sense that Rob Roy would have been taken to Loch Lomond rather than be buried here in Balquhidder where he fell. Another tradition suggests that Rob Roy was buried at Glengyle on Loch Katrine.

[abliafina-18782]

Roast chicken

Pairing: Joe Goldberg X Rhys Montrose

Author's Note: I've used quotes from the show for an extra bit of flare, I'm not claiming any of those as my own writing but I won't point them out as it'd interrupt the flow of the fic. This is very much a crackfic, don't take it too seriously. ✨

Warning: Canon typical Violence, stalking, possessive behaviour

Word count: ~6k

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. There are so many ways in which you can have breakfast. Bacon and eggs. Cereal. Marmalade on toast. Coffee. The options are endless.

I have learned a lot about breakfast since coming to the UK. They have a full English breakfast with fried eggs, sausages, bacon, baked beans, and ripe fried tomatoes and mushrooms. Have that with some tea or orange juice and it’s a whole buffet compared to America’s breakfast, and that says a lot for the country that originated McDonald's.

I have never been much of a breakfast guy. Perhaps it’s stereotypical of a coffee drinker, I’m the one that’ll be fine as long as I’ve got my caffeine in the morning. It wasn’t until I met you that I started appreciating breakfast for what it was.

Breakfast is a chance to set the tone for the rest of your day. You can’t go wrong if you begin your day with a belly full of a full English. It took me a while to get used to it, I usually felt satisfied after only a few spoonfuls of baked beans, however, you helped me slow down and enjoy the start of my morning. Any morning is a good morning as long as it is with you.

Which is why it’s so weird that you’ve stopped eating breakfast.

Being the mayor of London isn’t easy for you, and yet that is no reason to neglect your basic needs. You say you don’t have time because you’re running late or you are simply not hungry. I have a hard time believing that. Your appetite is like no other. The first time I cooked dinner for us, you helped yourself to two extra servings, saying it was the best meal you ever had. I’m not a chef by any means, I mean I know my way around the kitchen, though being married to Love Quinn came with its benefits.

I am trying to get you to eat better, though it’s hard when you won’t tell me what’s wrong. You insist that everything’s okay, except I know you better than that. You’re not eating the lunches or snacks I pack for you. You say I don’t have to pack lunches for you, but let me ask you this, Rhys. What kind of a partner am I if I let you go hungry?

I won’t lie and say it doesn’t hurt to see my efforts go to waste. I’m greeted with half-empty boxes and unopened granola bars whenever I clear out your bag. Of course, you’re not obligated to eat the food I prepare for you. It is just my way of showing that I care about you.

Because I do, I care about you, Rhys. More than I have cared for anyone in my life. You helped me come to terms with my true nature. You accept me for who I am and I am never going to find that in another person again. Which is why I have to get to the bottom of what’s bothering you.

I know you wouldn’t like it if I followed you to work. You’d call it an invasion of privacy when I’m only trying to help you. So it is with perfect timing really when I have to run some errands by your office. Whether or not testing the coffee at London's Kitchen Café constitutes as an errand is up for debate.

Continue reading

[eternalremorse]

Hogwarts Legacy MC: Oscar Weasley

General

Full Name: Oscar Frederick Weasley Nicknames: Os Date of Birth: 7th December 1872 (Sagittarius) Gender: Male (he/him) Nationality: English Blood Status: Pureblood House: Gryffindor Wand: Notched (warm brown), walnut wood, Phoenix feather core, whippy, twelve inches Patronus: Black Swan Likes: Quidditch, Beasts, Butterbeer, chocolate frogs and lamb shank Dislikes: Divination, Potions (mainly because of Garreth), liver, cabbage and arguments Traits: Confident, chivalrous, charming, active, friendly, outgoing

Appearance

Hair: Ginger Eyes: Light green Height: 5’11’’ Physique: Slim and toned Other features: Freckles all over the face and most of his body

Family

Parents: George Weasley, Marie Weasley Siblings: Nigellus Weasley, Garreth Weasley, Hector Weasley, Millie Weasley

Future

Career: Quidditch (Beater for the Montrose Magpies) Partner/Spouse: Poppy Sweeting Children: George Weasley, Robert Weasley, Alice Weasley

In Depth Details

Oscar is the second-born child of George and Marie Weasley.

From a young age, Oscar has always been the most charming and confident of his siblings, often resulting in many girls to develop a crush on him.

When he started Hogwarts, he immediately took to his flight class and decided that he would train to play for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. After a couple of try-outs, he secured a spot as a Beater. Oscar became one of the best players in the team alongside his housemate and best friend, Isaac Cooper.

Oscar had a reputation of seducing many girls during his time at school, the majority didn’t lead to courtship, but he would bring them to his dorm room or one of the broom cupboards for make-out sessions, and on the odd occasion, something else *wink-wink*.

Oscar’s first relationship happened in his fourth year with a Ravenclaw girl called Francesca. He’d had a crush on her for a few months and she reciprocated his feelings. Unfortunately, Francesca transferred to Ilvermorny later in the year which left Oscar heartbroken!

If Oscar isn’t playing Quidditch or flying around on his broom, he’s usually with his friends in the common room, outside one of the courtyards or at the Three Broomsticks. He’s always down for a pint of Butterbeer! (And the odd cheeky fire whiskey)

He may not be a very studious person, but Oscar does enjoy a good novel every now and then – his favourite genres are adventure and mystery.

Oscar gets on with all his family but spends the most time with Garreth and Millie. He loves to embarrass them!

At his home, he isn’t one for being couped up inside all day, Oscar needs to get outdoors for at least a few hours a day. Whether it be playing ball games with his siblings, meeting his friends, or hiking around the area – even if it’s raining outside!

At family gatherings he is the life of the party! He’s cracking jokes, socialising with everyone there (and I mean everyone) and dancing the night away if music is involved!

Oscar Weasley on Character AI, created by me - [LINK]

Gallery

Gringotts Pensieve

Sorting Ceremony

Common Room Introductions - Part 1

Common Room Introductions - Part 2

First Day & Field Guide - Part 1

First Day & Field Guide - Part 2

Charms Class

Defence Against the Dark Arts Class - Part 1

Defence Against the Dark Arts Class - Part 2

Weasley After Class

Welcome to Hogsmeade - Part 1

Welcome to Hogsmeade - Part 2

Welcome to Hogsmeade - Part 3

Potions Class

Room of Requirement

Beasts Class

The High Keep

Astronomy Class

In the Shadow of the Study

Rookwood Trial & Second Beasts Class

Fire and Vice - Part 1

Fire and Vice - Part 2

It's All Gobbledegook

Poached Egg

The Polyjuice Plot

Surprise Meeting

In the Shadow of the Mountain

The Centaur and the Stone

Lodgok's Loyalty

San Bakar's Trial

In the Shadow of the Relic

Wand Mastery

History of Magic Class

Harlow's Last Stand

A Bird in the Hand

The Final Repository - Part 1

The Final Repository - Part 2

The Final Repository - Part 3

The House Cup

[orchidsncrake]

you bring some heaven to my wicked land

pairing: joe goldberg/rhys montrose

rating: explicit

tags: Rhys is real, established relationship, pwp, porn with feelings, anal sex, riding, choking, finger sucking, praise kink dom/sub undertones

word count: 2,063

ao3 link and fic under the break :)

“You look so pretty like this, you know that?” Rhys whispers. Joe blinks down at him, eyes blank and glossy. Rhys grins, using his free hand to trace over Joe’s lips, his cheeks, and down the slope of his nose. He presses his first two fingers to Joe’s bottom lip and squeezes his other hand, trying to bring his thumb to his pinky. Joe’s mouth drops open, his eyes half-lidded, Rhys’ thumb pressing into his carotid.

“That feel good, love?” Rhys asks, sliding his fingers into Joe’s mouth. Joe, for his part, moans shakily, the sound half-wrung out of him by Rhys’ hand. Joe’s hips writhe, grinding down. Joe’s insides flutter, making Rhys groan, pressing down firmer on Joe’s tongue. Saliva wells up and spills over, clinging to Joe’s beard like dew.

“Tell me how good you feel, Joe,” Rhys murmurs. He loosens his grip but keeps his hand in place, Joe’s head forced back by the fingers digging into his jaw. Joe groans and grinds, earning himself a sharp slap to his hip.

“It’s good,” Joe slurs dumbly, tongue darting out to catch the saliva clinging to his lips. He only succeeds in pushing it over.

“Yeah? You’re making a bit of a mess,” Rhys chuckles. With the hand holding Joe upright by the throat, he swipes his thumb over Joe’s lips. He smears the saliva over his cheek and into his beard. Then, Rhys drops his wetted hand to Joe’s hip, digging his fingers in possessively. Using it as a vantage, he hauls Joe’s hips forward, fucking up at the same time. Joe moans, his lithe body stretching above Rhys. The thin layer of sweater covering him makes him shine, the moonlight pouring through the penthouse windows catching the sheen. Rhys watches the wings of Joe’s pelvis roll as he builds up a rhythm, searching desperately for the right angle. Joe’s body stiffens as Rhys flexes his hand.

“Rhys–” Joe chokes out, hands scrambling on Rhys’ chest. They’d kicked the blankets to the floor an hour ago, and now they’re left in a nest of tangled silk. Rhys gasps as adrenaline surges through him, Joe’s throat spasming in his hand. Rhys’ mouth drops open, and then clamps shut, teeth bared.

“So beautiful, Joseph. Such a fucking pretty boy, aren’t you? And just for me, yeah?” Rhys breathes. “Fuck,” Joe gasps when Rhys loosens his grip for a moment. The breath he sucks in must burn, too much and desperate. Joe brings his head forward, his eyes as wild as his curls. Rhys chokes him again to watch Joe’s face contort in instinctive panic, then releases, glee thrumming through him. He’s hardly able to contain himself, and he moves his hand from Joe’s hip to run over his abdomen, touching him simply because he can. Joe’s abs jump under his hand, responsive as ever. 

“Touch yourself for me, darling.” Joe cocks his head. “Your tits, baby. C’mon,” Rhys clarifies, returning his hand to Joe’s hip. It fits perfectly, meant to be there. Joe blushes, the throttled flush deepening to almost scarlet. He slowly, shyly, brings one hand to his chest, keeping the other on Rhys’ for stability. Joe bites his lips, hesitant, and Rhys nods reassuringly, whispering to him how beautiful he is. Joe palms his chest, rubbing his middle and ring fingers over his nipple.

“Do it how you like it,” Rhys instructs. Then, more gently, “It’s just me, Joe.”

Joe swallows, and Rhys feels his Adam’s apple bob against his palm. Joe pinches his nipple roughly, and he stiffens at the pain, spine going ramrod straight. It tightens him around Rhys, who bites out a swear but forces his eyes open. Joe nods, more confident, and Rhys cuts off his breathing again. Joe gapes and watches him, their eyes locked as blood rushes to Joe’s cheeks. Rhys watches, transfixed, almost absentmindedly directing Joe’s hips. Only when Joe’s eyes unfocus and he begins to go limp does Rhys release, the other’s eyes flying open and heaving in a gasping breath. Rhys shushes him, sliding his hand to the side of Joe’s neck to toy with a curl at his nape.

“You’re doing so good for me,” Rhys says softly, letting Joe feel his voice vibrate in his chest where the other’s hand rests. Rhys caresses Joe’s face with the back of his hand. “You gettin’ a little spacey, sweetheart?” Joe nods, licking his lips slowly.

“I can give you my fingers, darling,” Rhys offers, “but you’d have to ride me yourself. Do you think you can do that?” Joe whines but nods, dropping his mouth open. Rhys smiles and slides his thumb home, resting it firmly on Joe’s tongue.

“Atta boy,” he praises, making Joe sag a bit. “Ah-ah, you’ve gotta keep yourself moving now, alright? That was the deal,” Rhys says, enjoying far too much the blank, desperate look Joe gives him. Rhys jerks his chin up, a silent get on with it, and Joe huffs. The other’s tongue writhes under Rhys’ finger, not sucking, just enjoying the presence. Rhys exhales slowly when Joe starts rocking his hips, slowly at first and then greedier. Joe’s hand starts moving on his chest again, plucking his nipple and digging his nails into his pec. Rhys drops his head to the pillow, his hair mussed. The wall opposite the bed is almost entirely window, framing Joe’s writhing figure against the night sky. An aviation tower blinks red to the left of Joe’s silhouette, and the moon shines to his right. Joe’s curls bounce as he works himself into a frenzy, his moans ranging from deep and low to strangled depending on Rhys’ grip. It’s invigorating; Joe is on his lap like an instrument, and only he gets to play. The noises, loud or quiet, shy or shameless, all his all the same. No one else’s ever again. No one else in the entire city, not one lit window outside the penthouse, will ever have his Joe. Rhys considers fucking Joe against the window next time in the dead of night, watching his desperate moans fog up the class. They’re so high above the city that no one could see them if they tried, but Rhys would know.

“Rhys,” Joe whines desperately, bringing Rhys to the present. Tears had sprung into his eyes, and panic seizes Rhys.

“Fuck, baby, did I hurt you?” Rhys asks frantically, sitting up. Mindlessly, he holds Joe by the ass to keep him close, tearing his thumb from Joe’s mouth. Joe coughs out a shocked moan at the movement, his hand leaving his chest to take Rhys by the hair. The hand around Joe’s throat moves to his face, wiping under his eyes and pressing his cheeks, looking for damage.

“No, no,” Joe stammers, sounding choked. “You didn’t.”

“I didn’t?” Rhys asks breathily, still unconvinced. “I’m alright,” Joe promises. He presses Rhys’ face to his chest, holding him there as he starts working his hips again. Rhys moans and cups the back of Joe’s head, his other hand digging into the flesh of Joe’s ass.

“Why’re you crying?” Rhys asks breathlessly, rolling his hips with Joe. He kisses Joe’s shoulder, then collarbone, then across his chest. Joe sniffs, and Rhys tangles his fingers into the other’s hair, pulling his face back to look at him. He stares up at Joe, eyes wide, and Joe leans down to kiss him. They both tilt left and end up smashing their noses together, but the pain only riles them up. Hands grasp at each other, trying to get impossibly closer, become more part of each other than they already are.

“It’s good,” Joe admits sheepishly. Rhys sighs in relief, licking over Joe’s collar and dipping his tongue into the crevice, tasting sweat. His sigh bubbles into laughter, a bit hysteric. He dips his head, neck bent uncomfortably, to lick Joe’s nipple. When he gets a gasping moan in response, he points his tongue to circle it, and then nips him.

“Rhys, fuck!” Joe hisses, tugging his hair and pushing him closer. Rhys smiles against his chest, canines pricking his pec as he switches between licking and biting. Once Joe starts squirming from oversensitivity, he switches to the other, giving it the same care.

“You’re fucking incredible, Joe,” Rhys breathes hotly, licking between Joe’s pecs. He gets salt.

“You too,” the other pants, more verbal as oxygen returns to his brain. Rhys smacks his ass playfully, gently, and Joe bucks against him. Rhys puts his right hand behind him for purchase, his left wrapped around Joe’s back and pinning him to him. Joe’s cock slides against Rhys’ abdomen, and when he leans back against his hand, he can see the tip is flushed red.

“Touch yourself for me,” Rhys says, kissing Joe’s exposed throat, the other’s head thrown back. Joe’s responding groan vibrates against his lips, leaving them almost numb. Joe nods and reaches forward to take himself in his hand despite his thighs beginning to shake. Rhys watches the tip disappear into his fist and reappear, and he spits down into Joe’s fist. Joe’s eyes fly open, and his head jerks up to look at Rhys, bewildered, but Rhys only grins at him. Joe’s mouth drops open, and he slides his thumb over the head, letting it slick his hand. Joe surges towards him, and Rhys’s hand shoots up to accept him, catching him by the crown. Without his support, Rhys falls backward, landing on the sheets with a soft whump.

“There you go, atta boy,” Rhys pants, squirming on the mattress when his back sticks uncomfortably. Joe leans over him, one hand digging its nails into his pec and the other jacking him off. Rhys rakes his nails down Joe’s thigh, then returns to his throat. Joe tips his head back readily, welcoming the control.

“You think one more time’ll do you in?” Joe looks down at him pleadingly, his eyes glassy again. Rhys takes it for an answer, curling his hand around Joe’s throat again. He fits his fingers to the pink spots that will bruise by morning. Joe will be trapped in turtlenecks for a week. Joe pushes forward into Rhys’ hand, his hips slowing to a grind. Rhys draws his fingers together, and Joe keeps pressing, a hissing whine escaping his throat. Tighter and tighter until he’s almost throttling Joe, but blinding arousal pushes any fear aside as Joe starts to pant, puffing out desperate little noises as he quickens his bouncing, trying to get Rhys impossibly deeper. Rhys is not in charge for a glorious moment, and he lies prone beneath the other, gasping stupidly. Joe throws his head back, clipped little yelps tearing free of him, his hair a dark halo around him in the moonlight. Rhys’ face hurts from how it’s contorting, screwed up in too-sharp pleasure.

Joe stiffens and shouts, seizing above him. He sways forward, and Rhys relaxes his hand and sits up, giving Joe something to fall into. Joe’s cock spurts between them, making a mess of Rhys’ chest as his eyes roll back, euphoria prolonged by the rush of oxygen. Joe convulses, then sags forward, pressing them flush together. It’s too hot and disgustingly sticky, and Rhys holds Joe against him, murmuring and kissing his shoulders. Joe gasps, then moans pathetically, clinging to Rhys, who keeps pulling him closer. Rhys moans desperately, a shaky, embarrassing noise he would never make voluntarily, and clenches his eyes shut. The darkness blotches, and he comes, groaning in relief as the tension leaves him. One arm is still wrapped around Joe’s back, and he falls back to the sheets, nerves still raw with the aftershocks. Joe groans above him, sounding on the verge of discomfort, and Rhys shushes him. With what strength he has left, he sits Joe up enough to pull out of him. He rolls them both over, putting Joe on his back next to him, the other’s chest heaving.

“Want some cold water for your throat?” Rhys pants. He licks his lips, his mouth dried out.

“Yeah,” Joe croaks. Neither of them move to get up, Joe only shuffling closer to lay his cheek on Rhys’ bicep. Rhys immediately closes his arm around him, splaying his palm over his ribs.

“We need to shower.”

“Mm, later.”

Right, they have later—an infinity of laters. Rhys kisses Joe’s forehead. “Sounds good to me.”