#fenrir the writer

[schizophilus]

oh god their hugs… THEIR HUGGSSS AAARRRGGHHH (beats and punch the wllas and dies) (more rambles down below pls read imsick)

theyre so tender and gentle with one another im actually sick and i want to die and i want them to die and i want them to i want them t

FUCKKK THEYRE NOT EVEN CANON i didnt write for aventurine and fenrir to be canonically together romantically and everything i post about them is literally just me acting like a fellow shipper and as if fenrir was canon “theyre so canon” but i literally wrote them to not be canon this post is just going to be indulgences, headcanons abt them bc i know they wont act like this but please let me have some crumbs im literally yearnmaxxing rn

i know i posted this yesterday but i want to expand more on it because yesterday i was in a rush while making that post RUGHGHUG

you know boothill visits talia every now and then, he’s a galaxy ranger and talia from what i’ve seen is going to be western themed or at least like steampunk/western/rdr2 type shit so he’s going to crash by. Fenrir, is there of course, with Hermia. Fenrir has been taking care of Hermia alone for all the years he had been in Talia - Boothill met Hermia once, and she reminded him a lot of how he was when he was younger but she was left alone unlike him being in the care of Graey and Nick. Boothill knows he shouldn’t get attached to the girl, but she was just a little child, so for the short time he had been there he would come visit Avidity often to check up on her - he does miss his daughter.

Though, he when he returned another time, he saw Fenrir. He hated Fenrir at first, considering his cold-blooded and indifference to the situation Avidity was in at the time. However, he would also see how gentle and caring Fenrir was when it comes to Hermia, and then he sees - Fenrir was a survivor, doing everything to live in Talia - especially in such a rugged clan and yet he didn’t let that overshadow his humanity. It’s a hard thing to accept about Fenrir, how he could be so cruel and yet so caring. He was still inherently bad, even if his reasons explains it - it doesn’t justifies.

I want for boothill and Fenrir to have that father-son relationship and Fenrir is Hermia’s brother. You know a little happy family. (IM FUCKIN SICK I HATE FOUDN FAMILY I HATE FOUND FAMILY I FAHATE TAKHTAHHAHTHE). Fenrir is the ‘cool older brother’ who gets you in silly troubles and is awfully attentive and Aventurine would come in later and keep him in line so that he wouldn’t cause too much silly shits.

I never knew Nick and Graey dynamic, but I guess it’s something of the same. Nick being the one who taught Boothill how to ride horses and yk the outdoorsy stuff while Graey took care of the gentler and more domestic skills for Boothill. (theyre so bestfriends am i right) - I could see Nick being the Fenrir and Graey being the Aventurine lol and Boothill seeing them together- it’s kinda like. Even in the worst, there will be humanity. Aventurine and Fenrir are both inherently bad and had blood on their hand, but that doesn’t mean those same hands can care and heals.

i NEED THEM DEAD and theyre literally just comforting each other and taking care the others sh wounds im going to jumpp and die

fenrir would be the type to do some stupid shit or say something so outrageously idiotic that makes u forget u were supposed to have a panic attack i love them i will expand more on this… tmr’s post….

[heartbreak-one-oh-one]

don't give your heart to a wandering wolf (he’ll swallow it like the sun)

don't make a pet of a wandering wolf

 

how soft his pelt 

how kind his eyes

don’t give all your trust to a wandering wolf

 

how gentle his paws 

how friendly his grin 

don’t spend your life with a wandering wolf 

he’ll howl and 

cavort and 

play fetch with you 

he’ll roll in the grass  

he’ll invite belly rubs 

don’t pour all your soul into that wandering wolf 

he’ll look sad and endearing  

whining at your front door

don’t give your heart to that wandering wolf 

he’ll grip it oh so gently 

in his jaws 

caressing 

pulsing muscle with glinting canines 

don’t give your heart to a wandering wolf 

he’ll swallow it like 

he swallows the sun 

  that pelt; 

the velvet-night 

           those eyes; 

the last glinting stars

              those paws; 

the falling sky 

  that grin; 

the waning silver moon-sliver 

quick and deep,

he’ll swallow you.

 

- d.l.y.y.

[voiceoftheoldways]

Blessings to all this Tyr’s Day.

See twilight chained, the day prolonged;

Be then of that day its sun

With honour shining,

Your deeds a lamp

Against the offending shade.

[hel-phoenyx]

New Year's Eve, interlude

A little thing on @corneille-but-not-the-author @soupedepates and me's ongoing story that strays from my editorial line (the brooding big bad wolf) but is important nonetheless

Enjoy :D

____

"Are you sulking, uncle ?"

I sigh for the thirteenth time today. I don't know how many times my nephew, ten years old and kicking, has asked me this question, but it is starting to get old. Even if I am currently destroying him at Wii:Sports.

Luckily for me the Wii is one of the only consoles I can play easily on, especially competitive games. I have a high-quality prosthesis, but there's still some games requiring too much cinetic accuracy for an artificial hand.

I am also very lucky Fen, being the hyperactive preteen he is, absolutely loves Wii:Sports.

It still doesn't discourage him to ask inappropriate questions.

"No, I am not."

"You look like you do, tho. Did you get dumped or what ?"

Children. I roll my eyes and send his Mii flying with a sucker punch remarkably well placed. Eh, I am boxing as a hobby.

The truth is, it may appear as so to Fen, used to smiles and me playing a lot with him, especially now, in the beginning of March, that both of us are technically on student leave. But I don't think I am sulking. Not particularily.

Let's rewind a bit, shall we ? Yesterday I was supposed to see Domhildr at the union's meeting. She invited me there after a little bit of texting, because as a student, I am not part of any unions. Even if I do involve myself in some actions with the CGT when i have the time. I was not here to plan a revolution, tho. I was here to talk to her.

We had no words for each other. Just a hug and a "I missed you" that hid, so, so much more. After that, the meeting started, and, even if it was not going well, I still had hope to find time to talk afterwards. Maybe get a drink or chill at a café. Take some time for ourselves.

And then, well. The middle aged leftist fucker had the nerve to call her a tramp in front of our faces. I knew how this would end. I tried to calm her down, even if I probably wasn't that convincing, furious as I was ; couldn't stop her to blurt out the longest streak of insults in Arabic I have ever heard coming out of her mouth.

I was, without lying, astonished. That woman is beautiful even when she spits out profanities, that isn't fair for the rest of the world.

She got out after that, and even if the poor goth lady she gave the mic to tried to speak again, no one heard her. The men exploded in anger about "how women can't control themselves in a serious place" and "it wasn't the time and place to let out petty grievances". I had to raise my voice a lot of times, and even then, couldn't bring back silence.

It's when the meeting ended I noticed the bastard was long gone.

And outside, no trace of Domhildr. Just blood drops not far from the entrance.

Needless to say I panicked. Called her countless times on her phone. Got no answer. Called Oli, who after laughing at my expense (deserved, and God knows I love you, Oli) told me they didn't have any news, either. Spent the evening, then the night in a state of absolute panic. I was, actually, this close to go to the police. maybe the infamous Sigismund Warsowar could help me, after all.

Kriss was the only thing stoppping me from doing so, with very valid arguments including but not limited to "you did exactly the same to her and it was not a lot of blood, she should be safe and sound, wait tomorrow if no one has news". She invited Brynja for the evening, and I have to admit I forgot about that for a fleeting time.

But we are in the beginning of the afternoon, and I still didn't got any call.

So maybe I am sulking, in the eyes of my nephew. But I am first and foremost worried.

Fen is looking at me with his ten years-old all-knowing eyes. I swear, that kid knows something I don't.

"Com"on, uncle Tyr, tell meeeee.... It's not funny when you're sulking, I don't like beating you up that way."

"HA ! You're the one beaten up, squirt."

"That's not truuuuuuue ! I got you once !"

Yeah, once. But you're ten, I'll let you have this.

Especially since I've spent so little time with you those last few years. Let's not take away the joy you get in seeing me.

"I'll go check if the cookies we put in the oven are baking properly, don't start a new game, I say standing up. Or even better, choose another one, since apparently it's not funny when I beat you."

"You're avoiding the question !"

"No I'm not. Keep to the Wii or the Switch, will you ?"

He sticks his tongue towards me, but says nothing else, lets me reach the kitchen. Well, the first batch of cookies, delicacy allowed only when I'm here to cook with them, is almost over. We still have like, three to do. Because Fen wants to do enough for all his friends at the school.

I miss the times I was only caring about making sure my friends are well-fed before learning about fractions or the French Revolution.

While I'm away, I hear a ring. Fen shouts from the living room loud enough to cover it.

"Phone for you, uncle Tyr !"

"Can you take it for me ? I'll be right back !"

The few notes I've heard are telling me it's a friend calling, maybe Oli or Aarni, they both have similar ringtones. Can't tell anyway, the kid picked up the call almost immediatly.

"Hello hello, Fen af Mundir-Lameni here, how can I help you today~"

I snort from the kitchen while the oven starts beeping. every time when he takes a phone call he has to get all gentlemanly. The pride of a child is not to be underestimated. It's cute.

Some words are spoken, but I cannot hear them, I am too busy putting a second cookie batch on the oven. Before I hear Fen bursting out laughing, and see his little brown head behind the door with the biggest smile on his face.

"Uncle Tyyyyyr ? That's your girlfrieeeeeend !"

Wait what ? But Brynja doesn't have that ringtone, and she litteraly left this morning, why would she call me-

"his what ?"

...

The voice on the other side of the phone, that a grinning Fen just put on speaker, is not Brynja's. It's Domhildr's. Who, of course, is calling me when I don't have access to my phone.

And now my damn nephew is laughing like a little devil and my ears are so, so red I think my brain is gonna implode from the heat. Fuck.

I held my hand out trying to hide the deep embarassment gripping on my limbs.

"Give me that."

"Sure, uncle~ Enjoy your talk !"

I roll my eyes and take the phone in my hand.

"Hey, Domi. Sorry about that-"

"It's fine. It's fine. Children, am I right... Look, I'm sorry about yesterday, It's just- Something happened, and-"

She takes a deep breath. Enough for me to notice she's talking far more fast than usual.

"Is everything alright ? You sound frantic."

"... A lot of things happened, but I'm alright. I promise. and uh, I know yesterday was cut short, so, are you- are you available by any chance ? I really really really gotta see you."

Well. We will have the cockroach on our backs, but aside that this is the opportunity I was waiting for.

"I'm at Kriss' right now, and won't move for the rest of the day. Come meet me there when you can, alright ? We made cookies. We'll just have Fen on our backs. He's on winter break."

"Lucky kid... Alright I'm coming. Cookies sound nice. See you, Tyr."

She hangs up. I sigh.

Well, I have another reason to finish all of those batches.

***

The door rings just in time for the last batch of cookies to get out of the oven. Fen, of course, leaves me there to run towards it in a hurry, smiling with all his teeth ; he even open it with a laugh caused from almost tripping on his own feet.

"Auntie Domi !"

Said auntie steps back just in time to avoid the preteen bullet. I roll my eyes.

"Fen, that's not a way to say hello to auntie."

We're used to it, by now. Fen has a lot of aunties and uncles, among my friends, or Kriss', all the people that saw him grow up. It's so he can forget the real family is awful and there's a reason we only see them on Christmas or some events we're forced to come.

So I'm probably psychoting if I say out loud I swear this time feels different.

Maybe it's because of Fen's huge grin.

"Sorry auntie..."

"Hello to you too, kid."

She turns towards me. Her left eye is twitching a bit. Stressed ? I am, too. This time, i'm sure, there will be no interruptions. an occasion to talk, after all this time.

Well, no interruption, except...

"Fen, can you put auntie's bike in mom's garage, please ? And then, if you could play in your room, that will be appreciated."

He groans.

"But I wanted to see auntie..."

"Later. We... Kinda need to discuss a lot of things, between adults."

Lord, Kriss would be so proud of me. Even prouder that I manage to send her son away without earning me as much as a grimace. Domhildr even turns towards me with a tiny smirk and I feel even more accomplished.

"Auntie", huh ?"

"You'll have all the occasion to sass me later, Domhildr. Come inside, don't stay here, I'll make us some tea."

She's sat in front of a whole plate of cookies, and speculoos I stole in Kriss's stash especially for that. I'll repay them later, and I'm sure she won't cuss me out for feeding a friend. That is litteraly inhaling them while I let the water for the tea boil.

"Still green mint tea ?"

"Yeah, thanks."

She's sill eating the biscuits, but I can see her eye twitch even more. Sometimes her finger is repeteadly tapping on the table. I'm not exactly at ease. That's probably why I'm running errands everywhere, fetching the mugs, then the tea (green mint for her, black with spices and cinnamon for me), then the tea bags, then other cookies. Haven't taken any time to sit down.

I fetch the tea, then the water, and starts pouring it. Green mint doesn't need as much time as black, it kinda gives me a little reprive. She's still looking at me with those eyes, her foot now swinging in the air.

"I don't remember if you take sugar in your tea, I ask knowing damn well she doesn't. I'll go get it if you want, wait a minute-"

"Are you gonna fucking pace all afternoon or are you finally going to talk, Tyrfing ?!"

Oh.

Shit.

I freeze, right in my place, the kettle still in my hand. Silent as a carp, unable to move in inch. Between my ears only cold.

"I came here to talk to you, goddamnit, she continues, voice cutting as a knife. Not listen to you pacing around the subject without ever saying a word about it ! Do you intend to talk or not ?!"

At this point

I don't know if I can answer.

I come back to the sofa, put down the kettle. Sit down. It takes me a long time to finally find a word that doesn't taste fake.

"... I'm sorry."

"Sure hope you are. Two months of no contact, you know how long that is, Tyr ? A fucking lot. Yes, even if you avoided everyone."

That is already more familiar. And the nickname feels far more warm than my full name. The one my loved ones only use when they're irremedialy mad at me.

It's not said with the cutting voice of my mother.

I lift my head. My eyes cross hers. Angry, face scrunched up, mouth pinched yet covered in speculoos crumbs. It's almost cute, if you forget she is, arguably in a legitimate way, furiously mad at me.

"... I'm aware. Kriss already gave me an earful about that, as did Oli and Meili when I finally breached said no-contact."

And by Gods I don't ever wanna see those eyes on Kaizarz's face ever again.

"Also, I am really sorry about New Years, outside the bar. Not that it's an excuse, I smile albeit a little sadly, but I wasn't exactly in the right headspace and you took me by surprise."

And I didn't think you would love me, ever, when you're surrounded with so many people that love you as you are without making any of my kind of difficulties.

I still don't think you do. I can't believe that idea. Not now that you have Sigismund and Oli.

Domhildr downs another speculoos, drinks her tea. Closes her eyes.

"Look, man, one thing clear, I don't care if you don't love me. I don't dream. Just, next time, have the decency to reject me to my face, except of keeping fucking silent and then avoiding me for months-"

"I do."

"What ?-"

She blinks, puzzled. I can feel my guts clench, but I promised I would act like a damn adult, and that means putting all cards on the table. Even if I'll end up with the unavoidable rejection.

"I do. Love you, I mean."

Silence. I guess it's karma. Fine. I deserve that. A part of me wants to hide in a dark corner, forget that I'm 6'9'' and definitely not able to hide properly. Act like an adult, they said. Come on. Don't stay here, say something.

"... I know it's hard to believe, especially after the two months of no-contact and the whole trainwreck at the bar. I don't expect you to return any feelings, especially now that you have Sigismund. But, hey, at least it's said, innit-"

"Wa'Allah you are an absolute fucking idiot."

Is she

Is she crying now ?

"I told you, last time, didn't I ? I have enough place in my heart for a lot of people. You included. It's not 'cause Sigi's there that you're gonna get kicked out, jeez !"

She is standing up.

My poor sister is gonna scream about the amount of tea spilled on her carpet.

But right now

I can only see her face.

Her eyes, shining, filled with tears, focused on me.

I blink.

Is there

Something wet on my eyelids ?

"I thought- I thought you said that to cheer me up."

"For fuck's sake how low is your self-esteem ?!? Also do you think so little of me for imagining a second I could lie to you even to make you feel better ?!"

One step. Two steps. She's in front of me now.

Her fist right in my stomach.

It hurts.

She's strong.

Always been.

And I've always been so unjust toward her.

"Yes, I love you, you absolute giant asshole ! And for the record I didn't think I had a chance, either ! Are you even aware of how I felt when I had no peep from you after the whole blowout, and for what, months ?! I thought- I-"

Something is closing around me.

It's a tiny pair of arms.

"I thought you hated me, Tyr..."

She's snuggling against me now. And I, like it is natural, close my arms around her.

Like I've been back home.

"............ I am, once again, sorry about that."

"If I hear one more "sorry" I'm ripping your throat out."

I laugh. Pull her closer.

Some seconds pass in silence, then minutes. I can hear Fen playing in his room, unaware of the scene unfolding underneath his feet. I think she's crying in my shirt, or at least it's wet. I don't put beneath her the act of spitting her tea on my clothes to spite me.

Wouldn't even hold a grudge at this point.

After a few minutes, though, I can't contain myself anymore.

"... Say, Domi, would it be in bad taste if I asked now if I can kiss you ?"

A fist comes hitting my ribs.

"Yes, it would be, bonehead. But for the record, I don't care. Please, do."

I generously comply.

It's not like I have been waiting for this moment

For years.

[jcryptid]

Forget favourite colours and aesthetics, tell me what personal thematic motifs and symbols you love using in your life?

The beautiful thing about art, is you can find meaning in anything. What I want to know, is what you find meaning in the most.

[sm-writes-chaos]

I love how much the main trio differs from each other. I can think of a random concept like....goals.

Rufus: Too defined (Basically be good at everything.)

Norah: No defined goal (Survive.)

Alphair: Too little defined/lackluster (Do magic.)

[whaleok]

Blood & Garlic Ch. 11: Voices

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38805939/chapters/118127803 It’s publishing day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Which means my shameless self-promotion of this chapter lmao... and it only took me five months to do it 😅 Chapter 11 of my Vampire Dramione Fanfiction is finally up 😁 This is the first chapter I’ve released this year and I’m hoping to get back into the groove of things as I plan out the rest of the fic. There’s spice, there’s lore, there’s gore, there’s all the above!! So, if you’re looking for some angst or some thrilling twist, why not take a chance and read for yourself(; Hope you all enjoy it ❤ let me know what you think.

Summary: It's been four months since the defeat of Voldemort. Heartbroken and traumatized, Hermione heads toward her final year at Hogwarts, alone. But Hogwarts isn't the same, and the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is causing waves within the Wizarding community. Lycanthropes and Death Eaters alike remain unaccounted for, and people are still missing. Even worse, Hermione finds herself drawn to the completely changed Malfoy, an obsession she can't quite let go of. Art by: 𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗸𝗮𝘁𝘁 If you'd like to give her a follow, you can check out her portfolio here: https://celestikatt.carrd.co or you can also find her on instagram or twitter by the same name! 

[sorendeimos]

Monster for Martyr

A fic about the Lupin twins and their turbulent history

Remus John Lupin was born on the tenth of March, 1960. He was born to have hopes and dreams, to a loving mother and father, well off and prepared to give Their son the world.

It is too bad, then, that the Lupins were attacked and had to suffer the tragedy of having not only to bury Remus’ twin brother, Romulus, whom Remus could barely remember now, but to also have a son who’s hopes and dreams are now just as dead.

Remus John Lupin was born to have his aspirations and dreams ripped away.

Remus John Lupin was born to be a Monster, raised to be a Martyr.

The attack was calculated, planned for weeks and weeks and when executed was done with such cold precision it was only believed that a monster or a maniac could carry it out. Fenrir Greyback was both, and so when he attacked the Lupin family, Hope and Lyll were tied up and forced to watch as Their twins, little Remus and Romulus who were attached at the hip and even slept in the same bed since they came out the womb, were made to stand beside each other and be appraised.

Romulus, the older of the two boys by nearly two minutes, was taller, standing in front of his twin with a look of pure hatred. He shielded his brother with his body as Remus cowered behind him, tiny fists tightly gripped in his brothers pyjama shirt and tears running down his plump, unmarred cheeks. Greyback grinned, bending down to be at face level with the boys and speaking rank breath with the stench of rot and decay to the brave twin.

“How’d you like to become like Me?”

“I wouldn’t. It’ll hurt.”

“Oh but not for long. And it won’t cost much.”

The boy, far too smart for his age and stature frowned. He leaned back from the monster disguised as a man, covering his nose, then spoke softly.

“I can’t. I’d miss mommy and Pa. I’d miss Rem. A’sides, you’re a monster.”

Greyback laughed. He stood straight and laughed harder. A maniacal, full bellied laugh that may have been pleasant in a far more civilized man that wasn’t bloodthirsty.

“Well it’s a good thing you don’t get a choice.” Then he changed. The boys screamed, Their parents screamed and cried, begging mercy and pulling at Their restraints.

The boys were made to fight. The one that survived gets to stay. Gets the gift of being bitten. They fought half heartedly, tears and snot streaming down Their little faces and when Greyback had had enough, he bit Them both, infecting Them.

One would survive, the other was a trophy.

————

Remus woke screaming, an agonized sound borne of real world pain and suffering, not a fear drenched fantasy come to life. He panted heavily, his hands popping threads in the sheets he gripped so tightly his knuckles had turned white. As the fear lessened it’s grip, so too did he, allowing him to run shaking hands through his loose curls and down over his sweat drenched face.

He slowly traced his eyes around the room, taking stock of the shadows and the dark memories hidden in them before he got up from the bed and made his way to the fire. He relit it with a muttered spell and flick of his wand from the table in front of it then made toward the bathroom, pausing to note the date on the calendar.

He continued on.

Hot water cascading over scarred flesh, searing into aching muscles and soothing the sharp phantom pains of the bite. After he finished he stood at the mirror, towel slung about his waist, and stared at the bite for what felt like forever. He hated that cursed mark. That horrid pound of flesh that marked him definitively as *other.* He dried off, fixed his hair as much as he cared to (which wasn’t much) and trekked back to his closet to dress. When he turned back to sit, it was to find a body in his chair before the fire.

“You forgot the basic rules of hide and seek, little brother: never stay in one place too long.”

————

Next part will be on ao3, check me out.

[tales-of-the-shrike]

[schizophilus]

a little late for summertime dont you think

just some post-talia bummery from these two i love them to the point that i have to remind myself that one isnt even canon like this is torture.

I dont have much to say for this post as ive said pretty much everything about post-talia them posts prior, I DO however, have a lot of talia rambling to do- which will be saved when i doodle enough stuff for it

They still have that little bickering and bantering thing going on, passive aggressiveness with one another and being the one who gets the other into silly troubles despite both being elites. Like how Jade said Topaz and Aventurine bickers like kids, these two however, bicker like those alt older brothers in coming of age movies and his bromantic bro bestfriend (ive said this before so manu times but i cant find a better way to describe them)

mayeb something like todd and wallace but theyre vashwood if you get what i mean - i’ve also been subconsciously projecting vashwood onto these two considering fenrir calls aventurine “vasha/vash/vashu” while aventurine calls fenrir “that wolf/wolfy/dumb dog” and ive yet to realize that until very recently when i was writing something for fenrir that goes like “he valued life as others and he also bets it on me.” and i get reminded of “he feared death twice as others” and it just hits “ive been projecting vashwood onto these two oh my god”

fenrir cares for aventurine more than he wants to, but he does regardless.

"You should never ask anyone for anything. Never- and especially from those who are more powerful than yourself. They will make the offer and give it of their own accord."

It’s something that Fenrir live by, is that genuine help would come without the need for obligations afterwards. During Talia, Fenrir actively create scenarios around him that make people that he’s dependent on rely on him, out of obligations or respect. So whatever help Fenrir gives, he calculated them all so that they’d be beneficial “technically” to him.

Yet for certain individuals, those he love dearly such as Hermia, Boothill and Aventurine- He was willing to suffer a loss for them, which, for a person all for survival like Fenrir, is a tough decision to take. He broke his own ideals and virtues so that he could protect and satisfy these people, his family and he hates whenever he does that because it showed him that someone is having control over him and he’s at their mercy, which means they could just leave him and he’s very vulnerable to them. To put trust in these people so much that he’d voluntarily help them is like to trust them with his life.

i also like the concept of Talia recycling everything, even people considering some people would see that they’ve been “used” beyond so they were given a chance again. that’s why i felt like aventurine was suitable for this considering his past and his potential inferiority complex there.

the foundation between aventurine and fenrir relies on a lot of trust, and gamble as they could not read one another. it connects back to aventurine’s eidolons being game theories and avidity’s being about desires and non-co-operative game theories (one wins at expense of another while game theory is both party wins through trust and cooperation). fenrir’s eidolons are still in writing, but i want it to be based on 7 deadly sins or something, he does have a lot of religious references for the new lore rework.

fenrir was created before i know of aventurine, but i did tweaked a lot of things about him when aventurine came out. though the fundamentals still stayed, they were just made for each other rurururouuouogugh….

[ragyragd0ll]

whoa

What if Alice Never Fell to Cradle?

No one asked for this.

Basically, the Red and Black armies do go to war. However, Lancelot does try to find the crystal storage Amon kept hidden. Unfortunately, however, he was unsuccessful, and so, the war ended up starting.

It ended with the surrender of the Black Army. However, due to Lancelot’s betrayal, Amon puts Lancelot in a coma-like state, trapping him in a utopian-like fantasy. His memories were erased to ensure he stays.

The next day, the Red Army was panicking over the absence of their leader. Amon storms in, announcing that the King of Hearts is dead thanks to him. The Red Army tries to attack him, but many soldiers fell from the magical attacks of the sorcerer.

Currently, Amon rules Cradle, but a small group of people are preparing to overthrow him.

Basically, the characters (after Amon takes over Cradle)

Black Army

Ray- currently an experiment in the Magic Tower, as well as experiencing trauma from seeing his best friend die in Amon’s hands

Sirius- killed in war by the Red Army; his death majorly influenced the Black Army’s loss because they lost a good tactician

Luka- died through execution from Amon

Seth- hid as a Disciple; he is in communication with the rebel group led by Harr

Fenrir- also died through execution from Amon

Red Army

Lancelot- currently trapped in a fantasy created by Amon with no memories, except for one

Jonah- forced to serve Amon, since Cradle is held hostage with the crystal reserve. Amon knew his competency as the Queen of Hearts and knew how much he meant to Lancelot. Currently experiencing trauma from witnessing Luka die and regret from not telling Lancelot his romantic feelings towards him

Edgar- saved himself, Kyle, and Zero from Amon by sneaking away. With the rebel group formed by Harr and Loki, who are now in hiding in another nearby town. Sometimes goes to Cradle disguised as a Disciple to communicate with Seth

Kyle- also joined the rebel group. He’s their doc

Zero- also with the rebel group. Really wants to kick Amon’s butt

Neutral Characters

Blanc- he and Oliver are in hiding in the Land of Reason, as Amon is hunting him down for all his records

Oliver- with Blanc at the Land of Reason

Loki- made a rebel group with Harr and was the one who brought Edgar, Kyle, and Zero to Harr

Harr- formed the rebel group. Plans to find the reserve of crystals and destroy them so Cradle is not held hostage.

[liquidluckdrabblechallenge]

✨ Never Enough ✨

Author : Shadowmun

Prompt : Flash

Characters : Remus Lupin, Fenrir Greyback

Rating : M

Words : 218

Summary: Remus has to fit in to gain trust.

✨ READ ON AO3 ✨

[voiceoftheoldways]

And I fear Fenrir is loosed,

And that Jörmungandr heaves

In our day,

And Hel cries clarion

The call to war;

I feel the air thick

With the boasts of men

Of petty stature,

Their deeds

Writ large in cruelty

Their currency

In blood.

All this I fear,

Yet hope hems the shade

With fragrant hue,

That were all to fall this day

And ruins loom large

Against skies darkened

By folly‘s whim,

I would see beyond

To the coming dawn.

[sometimesraven]

🧇 What was the very first book you wrote about?

Get to Know me Ask Game

Okay so I am WAY too autistic for the wording of this question XD Is it asking for the first book I wrote or the first book I posted about or?? I'm going to assume the first book I wrote. (though if you're wondering the first book I blogged about like on an advertising basis was Reckless Truth)

SO.

This is a tough one because do we count unfinished projects? Scrapped ones? Ones I started then only got a couple of pages into before losing interest?? Because that's a different answer for each of them haha.

My first serious novel that I actually like, had every intent on finishing was called Forbidden. It was going to be a fantasy soulmate romance set in the world I'm still building to this day and loosely based on my Doctor Who OCs 😂

Unfortunately I was like 14/15 years old at the time and the writing, while characterful, wasn't Good. Still, I put my entire lil writeussy into it and worked so hard! It was a whole number of factors that made me quit in the end -- partially a rough home life, partially going to college and being unable to do anything but sleep for 24 hours at a time, partially a particularly toxic 'friend' (whom the sender of this ask is familiar with) verbally beating any confidence I had left at that point into the ground. In short, my mental health went from bad to cataclysmal and my ADHD and dissociation took over and made it basically impossible for me to keep at it.

I'll pick it back up some day, I'm certain of it, but for now it's well and truly on the back burner.

[agreeewrites]

Magic Lessons p.3 | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x intern!reader

SUMMARY: Bill returns from Cairo, but doubt began to creep into your mind during his absence, dredging up old wounds for the both of you.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, mischievious twins, pleasuredom!Bill, angst angst angst angst, mentions of Fenrir’s attack and the war, mentions of divorce, some rough oral and piv, slight breeding kink, possessive!Bill, fluffy HEA

AN: this is now a completed series! yay!

part one | part two | masterlist

It was strange sitting in Bill’s office without him, curled up in the armchair he devoured you in, book open in your lap. You'd been trying for an hour to decipher his notes on a particular curse, tracing the small, angular letters with tired eyes, but your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of its writer to absorb any of it.

Bill had been in Cairo for 12 days, six hours, and nine minutes, every tick of the clock like a barb in your skin, leeching black, poisonous doubt into your blood.

Would he still want you when he returned? Will the time away give him clarity to how insane you both were acting? Would you be reduced to a fling? No longer desirable now that you've been flung?

The time, the space, was making you second guess yourself, second guess him. What you were doing was reckless. Stupid, even. Risking the future you'd imagined for yourself since you were a first year at Hogwarts. You’d be a stain on Bill’s impressive career, and the thought of him eventually coming to resent you, regret you, for possibly ruining a decade of hard work…it made you physically ill.

Could you do that to him? To yourself?

But fuck, you wanted him desperately, the ache for him like a hole in your lungs. You found yourself spending longer and longer hours in his office, craving his presence, his aura, and the sanctuary of his space was the closest you could come to replicating that.

You sighed and set the notes aside for the night, the sun having set some hours before. With unhurried movements, you packed up your belongings and tidied his office on the off chance he returned the following day. You wanted it to be presentable for him, leaving no evidence that you'd been holed up there for nearly two weeks, besides the stack of completed work.

You took the Floo Station to the nearest one by your flat like you always did, ready to wash off your makeup, get into your pajamas, and order some Chinese food. Rain was coming down in sheets, wind buffeting against your coat, but when you rounded the corner towards your flat, the bulk of a man standing in the rain in front of your door stopped you in your tracks.

It took less than a heartbeat for you to realize who it was.

“Bill?” You gasped, and he lifted his head, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, copper hair pulled back in a messy bun.

He took a step towards you. “Sorry, I—”

You launched yourself at him, completely overcome with relief, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “You're home,” you whispered, relaxing fully when his arm looped around your waist, holding you tightly against his chest under the safety of the umbrella.

“I'm home,” he sighed, nuzzling into the top of your head. He smelled of train cars and petrichor, with lingering traces of cologne applied hours earlier, and you wanted to breathe it like air. “Can we go inside?” He asked, settling his hand on your hip with a soft squeeze.

“Yes! Merlin, sorry,” you giggled, a twinge of nerves in your stomach at the thought of having Bill inside your little flat.

You reluctantly pulled away and riffled through your bag for your keys. Bill's arm slid around you from behind, pulling you back against his chest as he nosed into the curve of your shoulder. Butterflies rioted in your stomach, your hands growing so clumsy to nearly dropped your key while you inserted it into the lock.

“Missed you, little bird,” he mumbled, pressing a tender kiss to your pulse.

“I missed you too,” you said, leaning your head against his. You managed to get the door open and Bill released you so you could move inside, and he closed the door behind you both, collapsing the umbrella and setting it by the door. “So, how were things in Egypt?” You asked, hanging your bag on the hook.

Bill slid your rain-soaked jacket off your shoulders, down your arms, his touch feather light, and hung it up as well. “You really want to talk about work? That's where you just came from, isn't it?” He said while shirking his own coat.

You flushed, embarrassed that he saw through you so easily. “It is,” you admitted. “And as long as you're alright, I don't want to talk about work.”

He smirked, reaching out to cradle your face in his hand, the other settling on your hip. “I'm perfect now, love. Although, we’re going to have a discussion about your work-life balance.”

You snorted. “Really? William ‘Never-Takes-A-Day-Off’ Weasley is going to lecture me on working too much?”

“Backtalk, too? Have you forgotten your manners while I was away?” He backed you against your kitchen island, lips a breath away from yours.

“No, sir,” you hummed, barely suppressing a grin as days worth of pent up desire came surging forth, your pulse racing between your legs.

He sighed, breath fanning against your cheek. “Merlin, you sound so pretty.” His hand on your hip moved around your back, pressing your bodies together. “Haven't felt anything soft in days,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

“Take me to bed?” You asked, brushing an escaped strand of hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear.

“Thought you'd never ask,” he chuckled and scooped you up into his arms—

Knock knock!

“Open up! We brought pizza!” The twins serenaded through the door, and Bill swiveled his head to look at you.

“Oh fuck, I completely forgot.” You squirmed and Bill set you back on your feet, though he didn't relinquish his hold. “We planned a movie night.”

“Tell them to bugger off,” he huffed, bending down to kiss your neck.

“Bill, that's rude!”

“Don't care,” he muttered, lapping at your pulse, and your mind began to drift, lost in the feeling of him.

“We’re getting soaked out here!” George called.

“Don't make me break in!” Fred warned, knocking with a little more force. “I'd hate to do it again!”

“Again?” Bill's head snapped towards the door.

“Just—fuck, get in the closet!” You tried to push Bill towards your bedroom, but only managed to move him a few steps.

“Why did he break in before?” He asked, fighting a smile at your helpless attempt to move him.

“I locked myself out! I'll get rid of them, just, please get in there!” You pushed your shoulder into his sternum, peddling your legs like cartoon character.

He sighed, taking a step back and nearly sending your sprawling onto the floor. “Ten minutes.”

“Thank you!”

Bill chuckled and walked the rest of the way into your bedroom at the same moment you heard George cast alohomora.

The twins barged in, wands raised as if you were in peril.

“What took you so bloody long?”

“Why are you just standing there?”

“Whose coat is that?”

“I, actually, um—” you wracked your brain for an excuse.

“Darling, is there a man in this flat?” George asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Uh—yes!” you whispered back. “I met him at work and we hit it off. I'm sorry, I forgot about our plans.”

George scoffed, a teasing smirk on his face. “So you'd rather have a shag then hang out with us?”

“Y’know, if you needed to blow off a little steam—” Fred started when something crashed in your closet, making the three of you jump.

“Is he…in your closet?” George raised an eyebrow.

“No, no! That's, uh—”

Fred pushed past you, striding into your room.

“Fred!” You snapped, trying to grab him, but he batted your hand away. “Just please, go.”

“You sure you know this bloke well enough to be here alone with him?” Fred asked, moving closer to the closet, the humor having drained from his voice.

“What's his name?” George asked. “Maybe Bill’s mentioned him?”

“It’s, uh—”

“You don't even know his name?” Fred whisper-shouted, glaring at you with a strange mix of pride and concern.

“No, I do! He, uh—”

“Are you okay?” George asked, his brothers concern reflected in his face. He placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “You're shaking, love.”

“Did this prick scare you?” Fred asked, turning his attention back to the closet door.

“No! Merlin’s sake, please just go! I'm fine!”

“Hey, fuckface, what are you doing in her closet?” Fred banged on the door, and you died a little inside.

Silence echoed around the flat.

“Open the door, mate,” Fred ordered, and George pulled you a little closer to his chest.

More silence. You had no doubt Bill had apparated, and the twins were about to think you were insane.

“Three, two—” Fred yanked open the door, revealing his older brother standing in the middle of your closet, his arms crossed over his chest. “B-Bill?” Fred stammered, taking a step back.

“You two have some fucking nerve,” Bill growled, and the twins scattered as he dashed out of the closet after them.

“We're sorry! We didn't know!” George called, vaulting over your couch.

“What the fuck, y/n?” Fred shouted, diving under your bed.

“Would it kill you two to mind your own fucking business?” Bill dragged Fred out by his ankles, his little brother desperately clawing at the ground.

You'd find it funny if it weren't for your secret being out, the very thing that kept you up every night for the last two weeks.

“You're the one fucking our friend!” George shouted, effectively diverting attention from his twin.

Bill turned on him, throwing one of your pillows at his head. “I'm not fucking her!”

Fred scurried behind your bedroom door. “Then why are you here so late!”

“And hiding in like a ghoul in the closet!”

“Can we just calm down—” You tried.

“I just got back from—come here, you little shit! I just got back from Cairo and needed to check in with her—George!”

“Bullshit!” Fred countered. “You're fucking our girl!”

“Hey!”

Bill froze, turning his head to peer at Fred, pillow aloft.

“Your girl?” Bill challenged, and you groaned.

“See! I knew it! Oh fuck—” Bill chucked the pillow at Fred and he apparated at the same instant, the pillow flying right through where he was standing and landing on your bed.

“Fucker,” Bill bit.

“Congratulations on your boning! Bye!” George chirped, apparating too.

Bill sighed, turning to you.

“Couldn't keep your cool, huh?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“They won't say anything,” he said, smoothing back his hair.

“I know, it's just—” Tendrils of anxiety wrapped around your throat, tightening until you were silenced.

“What, love?” He asked, taking a careful step towards you, sensing your mounting anxiety.

“What are we doing? This is—”

Bill was quiet for a moment. “You said you wanted this,” he murmured, a sharpness around the edges of his words.

“I do!” You cried, frustrated with yourself. “But that doesn't mean we should be doing it. Bill, if it got out that you were screwing your intern, your career would be over. And so would mine, before it even started. I mean, hiding from our coworkers, from your family, it’s just…”

His jaw flexed, shoulders squaring. “So you want to end things here? Go back to before we—” he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Is that what you really want?”

Tears burned your eyes, nausea churning in your stomach. “I don't know—”

“I don't believe you,” he growled. “The way you look at me, the way you were holding me not even ten minutes ago—” his voice cracked. “I don't believe that you want to end this.”

“Maybe it isn't what I want, but it's what we should do. You know that, Bill,” you said through the lump in your throat, voice pinched and small. “We need to stop before this goes too far.”

He looked like you'd slapped him. “What do you mean ‘too far’?”

You turned away from him, tears coming in earnest now. He stalked into your bedroom and caught your elbow, spinning you back around.

“Tell me what you meant,” he pleaded, pulling your hands away from you face, your eyes wet and puffy with tears.

“You know what I meant!” You shouted, yanking your hands out of his grip.

“So even with the potential for…that, you’re still going to end this?” He asked, his voice low. “That isn't worth it to you?”

You couldn't answer him, you arms wrapped around yourself as you trembled, biting back the sob on the tip of your tongue.

“Answer me,” he repeated, softening his voice.

“What if you resent me? What if you—” your voice fractured, brittle with shame and fear. “What if you regret me?”

He leaned down, forcing you to meet his eye. “There's a lot of things I regret on my life,” he said, barely above a whisper. “But I never thought I would get the chance to love someone again, not after Fenrir. Not after the war, not after the divorce—” he drew a shaky inhale.

Guilt dogged at you, and you opened your mouth to speak, but he pressed on.

“There's nothing I wouldn't risk to have that chance again. I would give up everything, my career, my house, all of it. And regardless of what happens between us, I'll never regret you.” He cupped your face again, and this time you allowed him, eyes swimming with unshed tears, your heart mending and breaking all at once.

“Bill, I—”

“Don’t say anything else. I want you to sleep on it,” he said, straightening. “Take the day off tomorrow, too. Then you can tell me what you want to do, and we'll do it.” His voice was firm, but not unkind, a tone of finality that had you nodding in acceptance. “Goodnight, love.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, then released you, apparating away before you could blink.

You were left stunned and alone in your torn apart bedroom, reeling from Bill’s words. Growing weak, your knees folded beneath you and you collapsed onto the floor, a sob bursting from your chest.

Such a coward, you scolded yourself. Of course he's worth the risk.

You wanted or rush over to Shell Cottage and tell him, beg him to forgive you for being so stupid, but he told you to sleep on it. To be sure of whatever answer you gave him. So you shirked your work wear and climbed into bed, squeezing your eyes shut, and prayed for sleep to take you swiftly.

It didn't. You laid awake for hours, until finally, at two o’clock in the morning, you couldn't stand it any longer.

You pulled on your lucky pair of jeans and jumper, washed away your smudged makeup, and apparated to Shell Cottage.

When you landed sprawled in his yard instead of standing on his front porch, it occurred to you that surprising the Curse-breaker in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm was a stupid idea, but it was too late now.

Bill wrenched open the door, hair rumpled and dressed only in sweatpants, his wand aimed at you, green wisps of magic dancing at the end of it. Thunder rolled overhead, a crack of lightning making you jump.

“Bill,” you gasped, stepping into the light of his front porch, and he nearly dropped his wand.

“Y/n? What the fuck are you—”

“I'm sorry about what I said.” You jumped headfirst into your apology, needing to get it out before it drowned you. “I was scared and stupid and I didn't mean it. I want you, no matter the risks. I can't let you—I can't let this go by without trying.” Tears will spilling down your cheeks again, mixing with the rain, your words coming out in hiccuping gasps. “I'd never forgive myself for being too cowardly to try.”

Bill bound down the steps, grabbing you by the throat and silencing you with a savage, bruising kiss. He kissed you the way a drunkard takes to a keg, ravenous and greedy. You could taste whisky on his tongue, smoke on his breath, but it only made you kiss him harder, open yourself wider for him to devour.

“Inside,” he gruffed when you broke the kiss to breathe. “Now.”

You obliged, hurrying up the slick steps with him on your tail. The cottage was cozy and dimly lit, a fireplace roaring in the corner and the moon serving as the only illumination. There were books everywhere, piles of blankets and shelves lined with trinkets, art hung on every wall.

Taking advantage of your distraction, Bill scooped you up bridal-style, one arm notched under your knees, the other around your mid-back. You gasped in surprise, but quickly settled into the warmth of his chest, leaning your head against his bare shoulder to kiss along his rain-damp clavicle.

“I told you to sleep on it,” he murmured, carrying you across the living room and up a set of stairs.

“Couldn't,” you hummed, licking a jagged scar on his shoulder. “Not without fixing things.”

“Neither could I,” he said, nudging open a door with his foot and carrying you across the threshold. It was his bedroom, decorated with even more of his findings and a giant four-poster bed made of solid wood, the quilt a thick woven masterpiece that you only got to admire for a second before he was dropping you onto it and shirking your wet clothes.

He paused, muttering an incendio to light the fire place, and you sat up, head level with his sternum. Hesitantly, you kissed a long his abdomen, tracing the dips and swells of his muscles, his scars with your lips.

He hummed low in his chest, petting a hand over your damp hair. “Whatcha doin’, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice silken.

“Nothin’,” you mumbled, licking along one his scars, growing bolder as he placated you with scalp scratches. “Wanted to touch you.”

He chuckled. “Been wanting you to touch me—” he groaned when you shifted your body to lay down on the bed, kissing along the grooves of his hips, teasing the edge of his waistband with your fingers. “Baby, you don't have to—”

You cut him by licking a stripe over the hard bulge of his cock, feeling it twitch and swell through the fabric. You nearly moaned at the feel of him, thick and long and warm, and your pussy purred, fluttering around nothing.

“You want my cock, darling?” He asked, gently sweeping your hair into a ponytail, the strands held together by his fist.

You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes.

He tsked, smirking. “I suppose I could indulge you for a bit.” With his free hand, he reached into the front his pants, freeing himself. He wrapped his hand around the base, a pearl of precum squeezing from the swollen tip.

You caught the salty morsel with your tongue, kitten licking the underside of him. He tasted fucking divine, velvety smooth and masculine, and your jaw fell open on its own accord, eager to take more of him.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, feeding the first few inches into your mouth before retreating, patting your tongue with his cockhead when it chased him past your lips. “Fuck, look at you. So eager to please.”

He eased himself back into your mouth, holding still so you could move at your own pace, bobbing your head in slow, sloppy movements, savoring the heavy feel of him on your tongue.

Soft, breathy moans spilled from his lips, his hand tugging a bit harder at your roots. He started moving you up and down his length, his hips rocking forward, thrusting gently into your mouth. You moaned around him, fisting the sheets below you as a flood of arousal made you pussy throb.

“Oh, darling. You want me to be rough, don't you?” He hummed, pulling his hips back until just the tip rested on your tongue.

Your eyes lifted to his and you nodded the best you could. Please, please use me.

“Your safe word is ‘hex’, okay?”

You nodded again, pleading with your eyes.

He thrust back into your mouth, his fist keeping your head in place as he forced his cock as deep as it could go. He set a punishing pace, fucking your face with every ounce of the brutality you knew he kept locked up right in his chest, hidden from the world.

Now, hidden from everyone but you.

You both needed to let go of control, to surrender to the truth in your heart, and with each other, it was starting to seem not only possible, but safe.

“Such a good fucking slut, gagging on my cock—this what you wanted? To be pushed to your limits?” Bill clutched your jaw with his other hand, feeling the strain in your muscles, the force of him stretching your mouth wider, and he groaned, head tipping back on his shoulders. “I'm gonna mold that pretty little throat in the shape of my cock, yeah? You're mine. This throat is mine.”

You could only whimper, taking every savage thrust like it was a gift from god. More than happy to worship at the altar of Bill Weasley.

He withdrew suddenly, leaving you gasping for air, a thread of drool connecting you. He craned your head back, lifting you until your hands left the mattress, back bent like a doll.

“This is it now, you understand? I won't go back.” His voice was rough with intensity, eyes shining with sincerity, vulnerability despite his hold on you.

“This is it,” you repeated, shuffling your knees underneath you and reaching for him. He loosened his hold so you could wrap your arms around his neck, molding your tender mouth against his in an attempt to convey what your were feeling, how much you needed him.

He kissed you back harder as thunder boomed above you, tongue twining with yours, and low groan loosened from his chest. He released you fully, sliding his hands down your back and scooping you up by your thighs, guiding your legs around his waist.

He held you aloft for a few moments, basking in the heat of the kiss, but it wasn't long until you were squirming in his hold, trying to create more friction between your bodies as desire blazed under your skin, raging like the storm outside.

In a quick movement, he broke the kiss and dropped you back onto the bed, sprawled on your back. Before you had time to process what happened, his rough hands forced your thighs apart, revealing the puffy, drippy state of you. One of his hands slid up to part your folds, exposing your sensitive bundle of nerves to the cool air of the room.

Again, you had the echo of the feeling that you were an artifact under his jurisdiction, being examined with the utmost attention, like the code to cracking you open was written on your skin.

Bill saw you down to the soul, and it terrified and exhilarated you in equal measure.

“You're perfect,” he murmured, moving to ease his middle finger inside of you, curling his knuckle to prod that gooey spot inside you and draw a moan from your lips. “The most beautiful curse I've ever had to break.”

“Bill,” you whined, hands grabbing at the sheets, hips trying to rock against his hand, needing more.

He smirked. “Seems I've already broken you, needy little thing. Haven't even gotten started.” He leaned down, laving his tongue over your clit before sucking it between his teeth, and you keened, vision tunneling as bliss washed over you. The relief so palpable it brought tears to your eyes.

He added a second finger, setting a slow but intense pace, stretching and molding you with his fingers, his mouth messily slurping on your clit to keep you loose and moaning beneath him. Pleasure singed every nerve, burning through your muscles like lactic acid, eating into your bones until they were gelatinous, a puddle of simpering goo on Bill’s bed. He was doing just enough to elicit pleasure but not enough to make you cum, and it was starting to make you desperate again, bucking your hips against him in search of more.

“Hush,” he scolded, swatting at your inner thigh when you opened your mouth to beg. “You'll be begging me to stop coming soon enough.”

You couldn't tell if it was a promise or a threat, but either way, you snapped your mouth shut, a fresh wave of arousal making your pussy clench around his fingers.

He took some mercy on you though, and picked up the pace with his fingers fucking you with his hand while he kissed up your stomach, leaving a trail of slick from his chin over your stomach to your tits. He guided a pert nipple into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue before sucking hard, and your back bowed off the bed as you cried out for him.

You tangled your fingers into his hair, urging him closer, and he obliged, bathing your tits with his lips and tongue, using his teeth to elicit sharp gasps of pain before soothing the sting with pleasure. Your orgasm began to build, winding like a gear in your low belly until you were barely able to breathe, every scrap of energy drawn to the apex of your thighs.

“Merlin, your tight, love,” he murmured against the side of your tit, kissing his way back down between your legs. “Ready to come for me?”

“Please, Bill—fuck, please,” you mewled, dragging him by the hair to your needy clit.

“So pretty when you beg,” he purred, swirling his tongue just around your clit, careful to avoid direct contact. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You,” you immediately answered, trying to chase his tongue with your pelvis. “I'm yours, Bill.”

He grinned. “That's right. Mine.” With that, he fastened his lips around your clit and sucked hard, curling his fingers against your g-spot at the same moment, and something inside you gave way. You came with a scream, bliss bursting through like a tsunami and dragging you under.

It filled your mind and soul, an endless torrent of bliss drowning you in its bottomless depth. When if finally spit you back out, gasping and overwrought on the shore of Bill's bed, he was still lapping at you, his face and shirt soaked with your release.

“Good fucking girl, well done,” he cooed, withdrawing his fingers to massage the ache from your trembling thighs, his tongue dipping down to drink at the pool of your pleasure. “Twice more, now. That's my girl.”

You shook your head, feeling like a wrung out sponge, but sure enough, Bill has to ratcheted back up in no time, screaming his name, clenching around his fingers as you came a second and third time. It was like magic, the way he coaxed your body into doing what he wanted, even when you thought you couldn't. Playing you like an instrument, drawing whatever song he wanted from your body.

When you came down from the third, twitching and raw, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, he finally relented.

“Did so well, darling,” he cooed, easing his fingers from you and licking them clean. “Are you alright?” He asked, resting his cheek on your thigh as you caught your breath.

You nodded, grasping at his hair again to pull him up your body. He obliged with a chuckle, letting you crash your mouth to his in a desperate, messy kiss, your essence on his tongue making your head spin even more.

“Fuck me, please,” you mumbled into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist and tugging him fully onto the bed.

“Insatiable,” he purred with approval, shifting to slide down his sweatpants fully and kicking them off. He grasped himself, sawing through your drenched slit with a groan. “This was all I could think about in Cairo,” he rasped. “Being balls deep in this fucking pussy, feeling your wrapped around me, squeezing my cock the way you do my fingers.”

“Please, baby. Need you so bad,” you whined, rocking your hips in time with his.

“Need doesn't begin to cover what I'm feeling.” His voice was a strained growl, a primal sort of plea, and it drew another whimper from your chest. “You remember your safe word?” He asked, nearly trembling with effort of not burying himself to the hilt.

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He shuddered, a breathy moan fanning against your neck, as his control severed. He slammed his cock into you, sheathing himself completely in your depths, and you both cried out, clinging to one another as he dragged his hips back, then slammed them forward again and again. Rutting into you like a feral beast. Brutalizing every inch of your overworked pussy, your overworked mind, until you were brainless, boneless, his to claim entirely.

“Feels even fucking better—shit, baby. So fucking tight and hot, so wet f’me. My perfect little cunt takin’ me so well.”

You could only moan and nod, eager as a bobblehead. “Yours,” you parroted, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Mine,” he gruffed, yanking your head back by your hair so he could ravish your neck with his teeth and tongue.

You were so sensitive from before that you could already feel that knot tightening a fourth time, making you flutter and clench around him as he railed you.

“Come for me, love. Give it to me,” he growled, his free hand dipping down to work your clit, his thrusts growing rougher by the second. Tearing you apart on his cock.

Nothing else would ever satisfy you the way he was, he was molding you into the shape of him, ruining you for anyone else. No one could please you the way he did, understand your body so viscerally, so completely, that it bowed to him before it did you.

He owned you mind, body, and soul, and you wouldn't have it any other way, because you knew that you owned him too. Like a lion on a leash.

“Come with me, come with me,” you cried, your trembling body trying to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Fuck yes,” he huffed, breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Gonna paint this cunt white. Make you mine.”

“Yes, yes! Fuck, Bill, I’m—” You came so hard you couldn't even scream, your mouth falling open as pleasure exploded from your center, a bomb detonating in the depths of your soul.

Bill sank in his teeth into your neck, bottoming out while his cock kicked inside of you, fulfilling his promise and painting your insides with his release. You collapsed onto the bed, scattered pieces in the swallow of space, half-there with Bill as he fucked you both through it, kissing at your neck and muttering praise, and half-gone, a disembodied soul floating on a river of bliss.

Slowly, you returned piece by piece until air slammed back into your lungs and you were gasping, shivering, clinging desperately to him.

“Sh, sh I’ve got you. You're alright,” he shushed, shifting on the bed to fold you into his chest, raining kisses over your forehead and temple. “You did so well, my love. I'm so proud of you.”

“That was—” you panted, feeling the race of his heart under his skin, in perfect synchronicity with yours.

“I've never felt anything like that,” he murmured, nosing into your hair and taking a deep breath. “Like you.”

“Me neither.” You wrapped your arms around his middle snuggling closer. “You're a madman,” you chuckled, and you felt him smile.

“Only for you.”

You were quiet for awhile, the room filled with the sounds of your laborers breathing, the onslaught of rain on the roof, the pop and crackle of the fire.

“I'm sorry for leaving like that before,” Bill whispered, breaking the drowsy quiet. “I didn't trust myself to not lash out…” his voice trailed off, his hands tightening a bit around your body, like he was scared you'd pull away from him at the reminder of before.

“Thank you for trying to protect me,” you responded, lightly tracing the scars along his back, and tension in his body melted.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you, especially not me,” he said, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his dark irises so soft and sincere. “You really think you could fall for me?” He asked, bumping your nose with his.

“I think I've already started,” you whispered, bashful, and he beamed, catching your lips in a light, languid kiss.

“I know I was supposed to be the one teaching you…” he murmured against your mouth, kissing along your jaw, down your neck. “But you've opened my eyes so much, helped me learn the lessons I was avoiding—” his voice caught, and he buried his face in your neck, holding your naked body pressed against his, not even air separating you. “I feel like I can be the man I want to be with you,” he confessed, pressing a kiss to the bite mark he'd left along the curve of your throat. “Like I don't have to hide anymore.”

“You're mine too,” you whispered, and he loosed a breathy sound, almost like a whine, and held you even tighter. “And I want you exactly as wild and stubborn and clever and complex as you are.”

Bill shifted upwards, catching your final words with his mouth, moving purposefully, indulgently, against yours. Saying everything he couldn't express with words, and your heart was so full it started leaking from your eyes, tears snaking down your cheeks and getting caught in the kiss.

He moved his lips to catch your tears, shushing you softly. “I'm yours,” he said, pecking your lips again. “And I have those good-for-nothing jackasses to thank for it.”

You burst out laughing, flopping back onto his pillows. “They're going to be so damn smug.”

Bill groaned, burying his face in your tits. “Worth it when I get to show you off and crush their dreams.”

“They'll live,” you giggled, combing your fingers through his hair.

Bill's alarm suddenly blared from the side table. “Silencio,” he barked, and the clock fell silent once again. “We're calling out,” he mumbled.

You nodded, sleep already starting to tug at you, your limbs going heavy on the mattress. “As long as the boss says it's okay.”

He huffed a laugh. “Good thing he's a pretty laid back guy.”

You rolled your eyes behind closed lids, and hummed in agreement. That was a lesson for another day.

Thank you so much for reading and supporting this series! This is the last part of the core series, but I'm considering doing a few extra drabbles that go along with it (let me know if there's anything in particular you want to see!)

taglist: @itisjustwhatitis, @carmenschemtrails, @karina-v20, @acourtofexiles, @meteora-fc, @l1nd3n, @just-some-random-blogger, @astralissas, @novausstuff, @babyearthquakementality, @slytherin-min99, @buendiabebeta, @littlemadamred, @nislame, @mother-homunculus, @dreamyassasin, @lottalove4evelyn, @mmmunson, @th0tformikasa, @katie-tibo, @comicalivy, @polireader

[sm-writes-chaos]

I just wrote 1030 words in a row. I think I'm having fun writing these two.