#which is the next fic!

[luxaofhesperides]

the beginning - danny

0.

The Lazarus Pit brings Danny back.

The child who went into them, however, is gone forever.

Danyal al Ghul is the soul who should reside in this body. Danyal has a life still to live and Danny died ages ago, old and surrounded by loved ones, ready to spend the rest of his forever in the Infinite Realms.

Something's gone terrible wrong, he thinks rather wryly, squinting through the cold green water that surrounds him. An ache echoes through his body and he brings a hand—small, a child's hand that shouldn't belong to him— to his stomach, where he can feel a large wound slowly pull itself together.

Did I get stabbed?

He means to continue the thought, but a sharp pain hits his head, making him curl up. He gasps and air bursts from his lungs, water rushing to fill in the empty space. Danny chokes, panicking, as memories slide into place, the lives of Danyal al Ghul and Danny Fenton fighting for dominance in his head. His lungs burn, throat working futilely to push water out, but there's nothing to be done.

Danny is a child again, and just like last time, he dies young.

1. So.

Assassins.

Danny honestly can't tell if this is a step up or a step down from mad scientist parents. On the one hand: he knows they loved him, as clumsy as it was, even though they loved their work more. On the other hand: assassin cult sounds like something out of a fairy tale, and while cool, is definitely not safe for kids.

And Danny, somehow, is a child again.

This really wasn't what he expected when he woke up on the sandy bottom of the pit. He's in ghost form, which is an unpleasant shock, but at least its familiar.

He is also, if his memory as Danyal serves him correctly, nine years old.

Kinda sucks that he died so young this time round. Didn't even make it to the double digits before he was taken out of the running.

He can't remember what it was like being so small in his last life. He can't imagine how anyone would look at a child and run them through with a sword. It's a cruel world he's woken up in. It's made worse by the fact that he's alone.

At least being down here without needing to breathe is giving him valuable time to think.

Danny has lived a full life already. He didn't really need or want another one, content to be a full ghost in the Infinite Realms. But going back isn't really an option, now that he's in a new body. The kid he could have been deserves to live fully, and the least Danny can do is live that life for them.

It'll be hard, but Danny's sure he can manage a decent life for himself.

Being presumed dead will make his escape from the assassins easier, though he'll miss getting the chance to meet his new mother; assassin as she is, Danyal knows her not by her blades but by her soft lullabies and jasmine-scented hair. The loss of her child must be hurting her deeply, but it's necessary. If Danny wants any semblance of a normal life, he has to leave her behind.

Besides, he's seen enough death. He doesn't want to ever be the cause of it.

So, he needs a plan for this new life.

Step one: get out of dodge.

The rest he'll figure out on the way.

2.

Turns out assassins weren't the most shocking thing in this new life.

No, that honor goes to superheroes.

Genuine, honest to God superheroes! With powers and everything!

To think that Danny once called himself a superhero. Ha! As if! He's nothing compared to the likes of Superman or the Flash or even Green Lantern. They're in another league. Literally. They're part of the Justice League, which has a whole slew of other heroes, and Danny is possibly their biggest fan.

Not like that's weird; most people in this world are huge fans of superheroes. Makes sense, since they're the ones who rely on their protection the most.

It does suck to know that his background belongs to that of a villain. Assassins aren't known for saving people, after all.

Part of him contemplates becoming a hero again, taking up the role of Phantom and joining the ranks of Superman. But he's had many years to come to terms with the loss of his teenage years and the bitterness that came with it. That experience, that life once lived, helps him decide each time that being a civilian is the gift this life owes him.

At thirteen, Danny lives in a foster home with six other kids. He's the oldest and has his hands full taking care of everyone else while their foster parents work three jobs between them to keep them all afloat.

When his younger siblings play superheroes, he gladly takes the role of the villain, swooping in with a blanket to kidnap away an innocent bystander that has to be rescued. He falls over dramatically at the end of each fight and praises his siblings' strength and teamwork, making them puff up with pride.

It's all fun and games so long as it only stays fun and games.

Superpowers are cool and all, but his came at the cost of his life, his health, his future. He knows, better than anyone, the price of being a hero. He knows that even Superman carries heavy losses on his shoulders, struggles under burdens no one can see.

He's lucky that the small town he ended up in—Luray, Virginia—has no heroes or villains. Too small a place to be on anyone's radar, apparently.

His classmates often complain about how they wish they could live in a big city where there's more to do, more to see, superheroes flying through the streets to protect them.

Danny is happy where he is. It's quiet, and small, and nothing like what he's used to, but it's safe.

That's all he really wants.

3.

Here's something that stays the same no matter what world he's in: Danny is a magnet for trouble.

If the trouble stopped at bullies, everything would have been fine. Danny could handle Dash, and he could handle Justin just as easily.

But the universe loves to escalate with Danny, specifically, which is why Danny had to reveal his powers when some villain-wannabe school shooter attacked his high school.

And to think he felt bad for Jackson when he didn't make it onto the track team.

Luray does not have a meta population. They're too small to have much of a population at all, and much of it is white which made him, half-Iranian, stand out even before he threw out a barrier of ice to protect his classmates a second before the gunfire began.

"Danny?!" his seatmate, Clarrissa, cries out in alarm.

"Everyone get out the window and run for it!" he orders, "I hold him back as much as I can!"

"You can't stay here!"

"Don't worry," Danny says, offering her a tight smile. "He couldn't kill me even if he tried. Now go!"

His classmates hadn't wasted any more time, sending him shocked looks as they escaped the classroom. A glimpse of his reflection in the window revealed glowing green eyes and blue mist wafting out of his mouth.

Looks like his time in Luray is up. He hopes his foster siblings won't be too mad at him for running away.

The gunfire stops, and Danny takes his chance to leap through his ice, intangible, and tackle Jackson, easily knocking the gun away from him.

"Monster!" Jackson spits at him, and Danny laughs.

"Bold of you to say that. I'm not to one trying to kill people."

He doesn't want to hear anything else that comes out of Jackson's mouth, so he knocks the guy out with a solid hit to a pressure point on his neck. Hopefully that'll keep him down long enough for the cops to get him.

Danny stands and means to leave, but something hits the back of his head hard and he's out before he realizes what's happened.

When he wakes up, he's strapped down to a table in what is undeniably a lab, and sighs.

At least he made it to sixteen before he went into another lab. Maybe in his next life he might even get all the way up to twenty before he's pulled back down here.

4. Though he has all his powers and a ghost form, that doesn't mean he is a ghost in this life.

No, he's fully a meta, which means meta-suppressing cuffs work on him.

It's not exactly a discovery he was hoping to have while locked up in a lab, but it's what he's got, so he has to roll with it. The cuffs are heavy on his wrists and around his throat, keeping him from escaping as a group of people in masks and lab coats bustle around, ignoring him.

His head is still foggy, though likely more from the drugs than the hit he took to his head.

He doesn't bothering talking to any of them; they don't see him as human, and Danny's dealt with enough of that in his past life.

Mad scientists love to talk though, so he still hears the gist of their plans: recreating the meta gene for normal people, making a profit from selling powers, getting rich and famous from their accomplishments. They had been using Jackson to get corpses for human testing, but they got Danny instead — someone they can harvest bio material for, a much better find than a couple dead kids.

If he had the energy to rage, Danny would have killed everyone in the room already. They planned to kill his classmates just for test subjects.

He doesn't want to be an assassin, but he'd gladly lean into those old lessons to make sure they never hurt anyone again.

But the cuffs and drugs do a good job of keeping him docile, barely able to think, as they transport him around to different locations and cut him open.

He's not sure how long it's been when they ease up on the drugs a bit. It still takes time for his body to work through everything, and he comes too with a throat that's dry and a stomach that hasn't had anything in it for quite some time.

The first thing Danny does when they start asking him questions is throw up on them.

If they wanted cooperation, they should have treated him better. This is fully on them.

It makes for a convincing argument for food and water and a bathroom break, at least, so he gets what he demands and takes care of his human body under the cold gazes of three scientists.

"You guys suck," he says conversationally. "Keeping test subjects alive is like basic knowledge. No wonder y'all suck at your jobs."

"Your comments aren't needed," one of the scientists says primly. "Get up. We need to study how using your powers affects your body."

They hook a bunch of different things onto him, then lock him in a glass cage and use the cuff around his throat to send jolts of electricity through him when he doesn't do anything. He throws a chunk of ice at them, watching as it breaks apart into small pieces when it hits the glass. The scientists scribble in their notepads, and when they look at him again, he flips them off.

He gets shocked again, but it's worth it.

The process repeats for another few hours, then he's pulled out of the cage, gets an IV stuck in his arm, and drops off into drugged oblivion before he has time to start throwing hands.

5.

It must have been months. Danny's not sure; it's hard to keep track of time when locked in isolation.

He knows he's fed at least once a day. He's been getting a tray of bland food at random times, but he's counted over 50 trays sliding through the little slot on the bottom of his cell door.

Turns out insulting scientists and their procedures is a bad idea, especially when he has the language to really bruise their egos.

So.

Isolation sucks.

But at least they don't drug him anymore!

The cuffs do their job of keeping him in place, and if he didn't have memories of another life to keep him company, he definitely would have lost his mind long ago.

There's other people in here, other metas. He's heard them screaming and begging for mercy. He's heard them go chillingly quiet. He wonders why there are so many superheroes in this world when not a single one has come to save them.

Surely at least one would notice metas disappearing and would investigate?

But no.

No one ever comes to save them.

So Danny needs to figure out a way past the cuffs, and then he can be Phantom again long enough to free the other metas and make every scientist involve pay for their crimes.

He just needs to wait.

He just needs—

6.

When Danny wakes up, the alarms are ringing. It makes his head pound, throbbing with each piercing sound.

He stumbles up, using the wall to keep his balance, and freezes when he sees that the door to his cell is open.

…Huh.

The hallway is bathed in red light when he steps out. No one's around. He wanders around the facility, searching for answers and only finds more questions.

There are other cells, also empty. Certain rooms have blood splattered across the walls and the floor, but no bodies. Labs are destroyed, broken glass on the floor. But every room is empty.

He wanders until he finds what must be a security room. There's a strange device dangling off a keychain on a rack, and Danny eyes it curiously. He runs his fingers around the cuff on his throat, feels the little depression where the collar comes together, and takes the rounded device. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work.

But if it does work…

The cuff pops open easily, as if it hasn't been his greatest foe these past few months.

All at once, his strength returns to him. He has forgotten what it was like to breathe easily, to feel his powers come to his call so easily, to be reassured that he can take care of himself.

It's almost like coming back to life.

He transforms, settling back into his ghost form with relief, and flies through the facility in search of any other metas that may need help. He finds no one, but he does catch a glimpse of the outside.

The sky is so blue it almost hurts to look at. Part of the facility has been blown apart; rubble surrounds the place and the surrounding forest has been flattened. It looks as though a fight has moved through the area.

Maybe a superhero did come to save them? Rude of them to leave only Danny, though.

He continues his search, poking his head into different rooms and hallways. He finds a staircase going down and follows it into the basement. More labs greet him, and the glow of computers and strange vials of liquid leave him unsettled.

There's a green glow coming around the corner than reminds him of the Lazarus Pit he flew out of, once upon a time many years ago, and that's what draws him forward.

Tucked away in that familiar glow is a small body, floating in a tube of liquid. There's an oxygen mask attached to her face, but that doesn't stop Danny from recognizing her.

"Ellie?"

7.

Just like in one life, Danny is cloned. The difference is that this time, there's no reason for it, no insane godfather trying to recreate a version of him that will choose him.

No, this time it's from a group of scientists who should have known better, who decided to mess around with his genes, and brought his once little sister now daughter into such a cruel, dangerous world.

Danny barely remembers breaking the glass to get her out of there. He doesn't know where he found the coat to bundle her up in, flying out of the facility as fast as he could. He feels sick, knowing it's his fault that she's here now, forced into a painful, terrifying existence because he wasn't strong enough to save himself.

He's a runaway meta victim of mad science. He can't take care of her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he whispers to her, pressing a kiss against her head. "I'm so sorry."

She small in his arms. She barely weighs anything.

Danny blinks back tears and tries to find some place he can stop and rest, somewhere safe he can gather his thoughts and figure out his next steps.

This isn't like when he first woke up in this world, with both sets of memories.

This is Ellie.

She deserves more than just a wish and a half-baked plan for a better life.

She deserves a family that wants her, that can care for her, that can protect her. She deserves to grow up normally and not worry about destabalizing or being a replacement for him or being hunted down.

She deserves one life to be a kid and grow up safe and be whoever she wants to be.

Danny will never be able to give her that.

But maybe he can give her to someone who can.

8.

Danyal grew up with an assassin mother and a cruel grandfather who expected far too much from a child. He was taught to kill and be more weapon than child. He was taught the world was something for him to take, to protect, to water with blood.

Danyal was meant to be the next Demon Head, and the next Bat.

Danny knows he can't go to his mother. If they're both lucky, he will never have to see her again. Knowing his luck, he's already planning explanations for why he never went back to her.

Danny's father, on the other hand…

It didn't take much to put the pieces together. The notorious Bat is Batman, Gotham's vigilante and one of the founders of the Justice League. While a child would have been left confused by the many comments his mother made about his father, it was simple enough for Danny to line them up with what he learned about the heroes of this world and realize, oh, that's my dad.

It takes a few weeks of research, using public libraries with Ellie tucked securely in a wrap to his chest, but he's able to learn more about Batman.

The most important thing being that he has kids.

Of course, none of this is officially acknowledged, but everyone knows that the Robins are his kids. Current Robin, especially, likes to remind people that he's 'the son of Batman'.

Okay. Cool.

Danny has siblings.

Awesome.

He's… not looking forward to those conversations.

At least it means more people to look after Ellie. Assuming they take her in, which Danny's really hoping for.

But it's the best he can do, so Danny sets course for Gotham and hopes that just this once, everything will work out.

9.

Meeting the Bats of Gotham is a lot harder than he expected.

A week in the city and he's barely caught more than a glimpse of them. He can't dedicate a lot of time to tracking them down either, needing to break into grocery stores to get food for him and Ellie.

She's so quiet as a baby, and it terrifies him. She's only cried twice the entire time he's had her, and Danny spends every day begging her to hold on.

Time during the day is spent catching naps and researching common vigilante spotting areas in Gotham. He's got a map of Gotham taken from a library and has been steadily marking it up, putting stars in the best places to find a Bat. There are places all over the city, and Danny has no idea how to know which ones are the best.

The only thing he can do is wait at a different rooftop each night, clinging to Ellie, wondering if this is the last night he has with her.

On the ninth night, someone finally arrives.

"Step away from the edge," a voice demands.

Danny turns to see Robin approaching, hands held out as if to catch him. He's bigger than Danny was expecting. Which makes sense; most of the stories Danny got online are from when Robin was a kid, and it's been a few years since then. He must be a teenager now. Older, but still young.

"Robin," he manages to say, his throat tightening. It feels almost like there's a noose around it. It feels like that meta-suppressing cuff has clicked back into place, leaving him helpless.

"Step away from the edge," Robin repeats. "There is no need for this to be your last resort."

"But it is," Danny whispers.

Robin darts forward and wraps a hand around Danny's wrist, yanking him towards the center of the roof. "Why on Earth would you come up here? Surely you must have known that someone would stop you."

"Batman," he gets out. "I need to speak to Batman."

"What for?"

"I'm… I was told, once, that I'm his son."

10. Robin stares at him for a long moment.

Then he takes off his mask.

Danny knows those eyes: he sees them every time he looks in a mirror.

"Danyal," Robin breathes. "You died before I was born."

"I did. Are you…?"

"Mother told me about you."

So he has a little brother. If only he hadn't left first chance he got, he could have known his little brother, gotten away from that place before it hurt him too. Danny has made many mistakes since he arrived in this world. Missing a little brother is perhaps the worst of them.

"Mother…" Danny repeats. "She put me in the Lazarus Pit. I remember that. She didn't want me to die."

"I was born to replace you."

Just like Ellie.

So many mistakes repeating. He's never felt like more of a failure.

"Batman. Our father. He treats you well? You are safe with him?"

Robins brows furrow, but he nods, which is enough for Danny. "Yes. Of course. Isn't that why you're here now?"

"I'm not asking for me." Danny carefully, gently, unwraps Ellie. "I'm asking for her. Please, take care of her. She deserves more than I can give her. Ellie… she'd be your niece."

Robin's eyes are wide. He's frozen until Danny pushes Ellie against his chest, forcing him to lift his arms to hold her.

"Wait, what about—?"

When Robin looks up, Danny's already gone.

It's for the best.

(masterpost for all parts)

[justaz]

au where merlin doesn’t know balinor is his father and he and arthur are chilling in his cave and balinor mentions hunith and merlin Locks In as he subtly questions the random man and boom arthur and merlin are aware that the last dragonlord is his father.

[izzystizzys]

TW: discussion of something approximating suicidal tendencies but with the usual crack programming of this blog

“Ah, High General Windu”, says Fox, pleasantly. “So we meet again.”

High General Windu raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, Fox thinks, though it’s getting hard to tell with all the blood rushing to his head. “If I let you go, will you try to throw yourself out of another window?”

Fox makes a vague shrugging motion - or tries to, anyways. It’s hard to tell where any of his limbs are going, hanging upside down in the air as he is. “I am willing to discuss terms.” A bridge will do just fine.

Impossibly, the High General’s eyebrows climb even further up his forehead. “A compromise, then, esteemed Commander.” And so, he righths Fox the head way up in the air, but leaves him floating just above the ground, at which point several painted shells come skidding around the corner followed by billowing robes and screeches.

“WHAT”, says Kote, calmly, “THE BANTHA-KARKED, FORCE-LOVING KRIFF, FOX.”

“You’ll short out your helmet mic”, Fox advises him, sagely. Fondly, he thinks back to decimating his own on only his second time in the newly-christened official Coruscant Guard Scream Closet. He’d just received the comm about the Zillo Beast being transported to 000, and made sure to take his bucket off thereafter to improve the quality of his closet time.

High General Windu’s face does something complicated between sympathy and constipation.

Because the Galaxy doesn’t hate Fox enough already and Cody wasn’t enough on his own, Wolffe elbows his way through their batch to plant himself in front of him, shoulders squared and shaking with repressed rage. “If you try that again, dickhead”, he begins, in a low growl that quite frankly sounds more cringe that intimidating, “I’m going to resurrect you and then kill you again.”

“Ah, Wolffe”, Plo Koon says, in his deep, shivery timbre, “Remember our conversations about effective conflict resolution and communication of needs?”

Wolffe’s eyes narrow at Fox, because all non-Guard are sweet summer children who walk around buckets off on 000 like absolute lunatics. Fox prays they never have to find out why that’s a bad idea. “I feel”, his ori’vod presses out between clenched teeth, “that if you make me watch you throw yourself out of another window, I’m going to jump after you and strangle you on the way down, you little bitch.”

“That’s fair”, says Fox, and watches High General Kenobi bury his face in his hands. Wolffe twitches in place and makes an aborted groaning noise, the hypocrite.

“Excuse me, High Marshall Commander Fox, but I fail to see what’s so dire about this situation that the Jedi High Council and your brothers cannot help you solve”, says Windu, the only sane one left on this Force-forsaken bloated corpse of a planet. Behind the gaggle of Jedi and ori’vode already gathered in front of Fox, the rest of them come veering around the corner in a commotion that’s quite frankly embarrassing. High General Yoda is mounted on Skywalker’s back like he’s a race-Eopie, which is Fox’ only consolation.

He got up this morning at 0300, bleary-eyed and with a pounding headache as always, and all was right in the world. And then Fox got called into the Jedi High Council’s chambers and was ceremoniously informed that in the wake of Chancellor Palpatine’s unfortunate demise (hah), and through the emergency state of the Senate, as well as several invented promotions foisted on Fox to make the delegation of any and all paperwork less shady, he was now next in the chain of command and-

Well, Fox is the acting Chancellor, in short.

Haha, he had said, and been meet with several seconds of silence, until it got both awkward and exceedingly painful. Wait, he’d said. You’re kriffing serious.

Kriffing serious, we are, had said High General Yoda, and thus Fox launched himself out the first best window with a maniacal cackle of, you’ll have to catch me first!

And catch him, High General Windu sure did.

“The will of the Force this is”, Yoda interrupts Fox’ train of thought. He scans him thoughtfully from beneath his wizened brow, and hems to himself. “Shake things up, this will. Determine the fate of the Galaxy, this shall. A feeling, I have, that a good Chancellor you will make. A better one, hmmm.”

“That’d be high praise, if not for the fact that a dead lemming would make for a better Chancellor than the last one”, says Fox, drawing and indignant gasp from Skywalker. He doesn’t bother with either that or the green goblin’s cackle, lost in the deep sense of resignation that settles over his shoulders like a suffocating blanket.

“Alright, then, get me Thorn on the comm. As my first act in office, I’m firing all the Jedi. No offense, but you’re kind of a disaster. Then, someone get me to the Chancellor’s office, I’m calling Dooku to let him know the war’s off. And please get me Judicial, they’ll be up all night working on my datafolders - I’m having the Senate arrested.”

“Who - is - arresting - “, Bly pants, hands on his knees from where he’s just come sprinting around the corner with his Jedi.

Underneath his bucket, Fox smiles a smile that’s all teeth. “The Senate”, he says, sweetly, wondering if he’s just imagined the shiver that’s gone through the room. “I’m suing the Senate, and taking them all into temporary custody for abuse of sentient rights.”

[bloodpen-to-paper]

When Juanaflippa died, she was the first. No one knew how to react. Charlie and Mariana expressed the rage, the denial, and it was a spectacle of roleplay followed up by a wacky trial made for laughs. At this point, the rest of the server were still getting used to their eggs, so only Charlie and Mariana felt that twinge of pain from losing an egg. But when you remember Juanaflippa, you remember an explosion. A marvel.

Next Trump died. Maxo made you feel heartbroken with the image of a grieving father wallowing in misery and self destruction. But it was all still early, and most people didn't even notice. Trump died from neglect. Dan never saw him after adoption day. The server didn't come together like they did Juanaflippa. It was all very quiet. To this day, not many people in the community could tell you anything about Maxo's kid. About how hard his father bargained for his life between the gods. About how he failed. Trump was a whisper in the wind that only his father and those who watched him could bother to hear.

Then Tilín. At this point, the server was becoming more accustomed to the eggs. They were becoming attached. When Tilín died, it was depressing in every sense of the word. Quackity was somber, he barely spoke a word when he heard what had happened. A grave was built for Tilín by others with a heavy heart. There was no spectacle, and this time most people were involved in some way. Luzu came on to meet Tilín, and had to deal with that grief of being told his child was dead, something so heavy on him that he shut down completely. In life and in death, Tilín was the embodiment of sadness.

Bobby. The first death since Tilín. The first death in a long time. Everything had changed for the server. The eggs are their babies, their world. Everyone gathered to grieve Bobby, because they're a community now unlike ever before. But its different this time, they aren't there to witness a marvel from a distance, or grieve in sympathy. Bobby was a celebration. Music and dancing and memories. Toasts and cheering his name until the final moment. And having a final clap in his name after. Bobby was life. Because they're all scared now, terrified for their children. But they know what to expect this time. They're ready. They knew not to watch Jaiden and Roier grieve from the sidelines, they knew not to turn their backs on the two, and they would be sad but by god would they be happy as well. The server celebrated Roier and Jaiden, celebrated Bobby, and accepted his death with his name being shouted into the sky.

[stevebabey]

no one asked but this is the post that inspired this! thank u immensely for the luv <3 number 1 comment was wondering what steve’s bids were & from his pov, so without further ado...enjoy — part one here!

—

Begrudgingly, Eddie has to admit that Robin might be right.

It’s impossible not to be looking for the bids since he brought them up to her. Even though Eddie was fully expecting to tell Robin to suck it, maybe even wager what little money he had against this working out, Eddie can’t help but watch for them in every interaction. And fuck, she’s right.

They’re little, but they’re there.

The first one Eddie would’ve missed if he wasn’t looking for it. Actually, that’s a lie; Eddie does miss it, until Robin points it out, the nosy bitch. It’s minuscule and honestly, it just seems like Steve asking his opinion — which friends do all the time! It’s why Eddie brushes right over it.

“Okay, be honest,“ Steve had said, walking and talking as he entered the living room where Robin and Eddie were sprawled across the couches. They were both waiting on him, the three of them set on heading out to the drive-in to catch a film.

Eddie can’t fathom why Steve felt the need to change his outfit for it, but when he returns, he gets it. It’s not quite the usual polo Eddie had grown to like on Steve, this one hanging a little looser, the colour a bit darker than Steve’s usual choice, the sleeves a little shorter — almost midway to a muscle tee.

Steve’s fingers fiddle with the distressed collar of the shirt, smoothing invisible wrinkles and fussing over nothing. He swishes back his floppy hair with a flick of his head. “It’s a new shirt, I know it’s a little different - but what do we think?”

He says we but he’s looking at Eddie.

Eddie, who has taken to trying to reel in his gawp because what the fuck Steve? It’s like he’s well aware of what drives Eddie insane and has specifically leaned into it. Some evil goblin in Eddie’s brain whispers think how good he’d look in your shirt and he squashes it, giving a visible twitch to shut down that train of thought.

From the other couch, Robin clears her throat loudly and smiles sweetly at her best friend. “It looks great, Steve.”

It’s sincere and Steve’s mouth tugs up, nearly a smile but his gaze fast-tracks back to Eddie. Eddie nods in agreement, a bit sluggish from his distracting thoughts and god dammit, the extra exposed skin of Steve’s arms are so not helping. “Yeah, looks... looks good, man.”

Steve smiles, lips pressed together but his shoulders curl in just a bit, deflating just a tad. From where Steve can’t see her, Robin waves her hands wildly and catches Eddie’s attention. He watches as she gestures wildly and it takes a moment to realise what’s she mouthing — ‘A bid! That’s a bid, you idiot!’

Oh fuck, Eddie thinks. Cos it totally was; the question, the focus on Eddie. He doesn’t even think about the logistics of it, of the fact Robin was right, just jumps right into picking up the bid.

“You trying a new style?” Eddie asks and then thanks whatever god invented the whole fake-it-to-you-make-it schtick because he’s feeling so far from casual or confident. “Going metal on me, big boy?”

Eddie just manages to catch the grin that breaks across Steve’s face as he turns away, giving a scoff — it comes out too soft though, giving away his complete lack of annoyance. He pulls that usual Steve Harrington pose, hands sliding onto his hips, and screws his face into some melted smiley-grimace. “Shut up, Munson.”

Eddie grins and goads on the blush that’s beginning on Steve’s neck, a glorious tinged pink colour. “If this shirt is any indication, you’d pull it off just fine.”

Eddie watches the blush climb higher as Steve ignores the comment, his smile still giving him away. He grabs his coat and pats down his jeans — ridiculous tight acid wash jeans that Eddie hates he’s somehow become attracted to — ensuring he has his keys and wallet. Once assured, he looks up at his two friends again, brows raised, and says, “Ready to rock and roll?”

That comment alone has Eddie seriously reconsidering his type in men.

There’s only a brief moment to talk about it when Eddie and Robin cajole Steve into going and getting them both popcorn to get a moment alone. Steve had scoffed, face twitching in the way it did whenever he tried to hold back a bitchy comment, but he still stomped off in the direction of the snack stand.

The moment he’s out of earshot, both voices explode in the back of Eddie’s van.

“What did I say—”

“Jesus H Christ, you were right—”

“Literally how many times do I have—”

“Oh my god, you were right—”

“ —before you realise I’m always—”

“Robin.” He cuts her off, hands landing on her shoulders. Robin eyes them warily, lips still parted from how her rant had been cut off. “Robin, I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?” Robin’s nose scrunches up. “What the hell are you—”

“Oh Christ, I can’t believe- how long have you noticed those bids?” Eddie’s aware he sounds a bit estranged, eyes probably wide and it doesn’t help when he softly shakes Robin back and forth. She lets herself be shaken, hair flying back in forth. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! You are such a bad gay friend!”

Robin smacks his hands off her shoulders with a frown, her freckly face perturbed at Eddie’s outburst. “Dude, it’s not my fault! May I remind you that until very very recently you were seeing someone else? What difference would it have made?”

Eddie waves his hand, disregarding the point with a shake of his head. His unkempt curls cover his face and Eddie sweeps them back in one motion, “What difference would it have made? Oh my, Jesus—“

Whatever long-winded sentence Eddie was about to spit out is lost by the sound of Steve’s approaching footsteps, effectively shutting both of them up.

Eddie flings himself to the other side of the van, putting an unusual amount of distance between Robin and him like they were being caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Robin frowns at him and gestures wildly with her hands in a way that means what the fuck man? Eddie gestures back, though he’s not entirely sure what his fast hand motions are supposed to mean when Steve rounds the door.

He’s got two buckets of popcorn tucked under each arm and Eddie quickly crosses his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits like his stupid hand motions will somehow give him away. 

Steve looks up, stopping just a way from the edge of the van, and looks at the pair of them. His eyes track from Robin still sitting on one of the old cushions and looking two seconds from burying her face in her hands, across to Eddie. He huffs a laugh and kneels on the edge of the van.

“I know he’s gross Robin,” He begins, tone light, as he holds out one of the buckets for Robin to take. “But c’mon, is the distance really necessary?”

Robin snickers as Eddie makes an appalled noise, both of which make Steve smirk. He holds out the other for Eddie to take and Eddie snatches it, glaring at him over the buttery rim for his comment. Then takes a handful and shovels it in because he can’t think of a witty comment to retaliate. Steve crawls into the van and plops himself between them with a content sigh.

“See? Gross.” He teases, shoving his hand into Eddie’s popcorn bucket to grab a handful. Eddie scowls and chews a little faster when the flavour on his tongue seems to register in his brain.

His eyes stare at the popcorn bucket as he chews, then swallows — up the front of the van, the radio that’s tuned into the correct frequency begins playing the opening credits song as the screen changes. Silence sweeps across the drive-in but despite the sudden hush, Eddie has no qualms about breaking it.

“Sweet n’ salty flavour?” He asks Steve, only half attempting a whisper. Robin shushes him instantly, her focus already on the movie that’s beginning. Steve smiles, looking a bit sheepish beneath the glow of the drive-in screen, but he nods.

“I know you like it.” He whispers with a small shrug of his shoulders. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Fuck, Eddie thinks again and hastily feeds himself another handful of popcorn before he says anything majorly stupid in response to that, like: Oh, amazing- have you noticed the big fat crush I have on you as well?

He doesn’t even need to look at Robin to know she’s smiling, smug as ever.

—

Steve, God bless his oblivious little heart, doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

Steve likes Eddie. Eddie is— god, Eddie is different but he’s good.

He’s this strange amalgamation of traits that Steve can’t comprehend how they fit together in one body or how Eddie manages to pull it all off completely charmingly.

He’s loud, he says rude things, he’s fucking dorky, and far too sweet on the kids — he likes to tease Steve, and yet somehow, when Eddie calls him ‘pretty boy’, Steve knows he’s not actually making fun of him.

Steve likes Eddie, likes his boyishly endearing charm, likes his touchiness towards Steve that no other boy his age is like, likes his messy curls and his ‘holier than thou’ attitude about metal music even though Steve doesn’t get it, like at all. And fuck, Steve really wants Eddie to like him.

It reminds him faintly of when he first started working alongside Robin at Scoops. That thought tickles in the back of his mind, something along the lines of how he had wanted Robin to like him for other reasons, but he doesn’t delve into it.

To Steve, it’s simple: he just wants Eddie to like him.

After the night at the drive-in, between Eddie acting strangely skittish and Robin giving more amused snorts than usual, Steve knows something is up.

He knows they must have discussed something when they sent him on popcorn duty, the bastards. He tries his best to not feel left out; god knows Robin and he have more than a dozen secrets they’ve sworn not to tell anyone but each other.

Besides, Steve trusts Robin to come and tell him if he really needs to know, even if it does worry him a bit. He bites down his anxious thoughts, even trying for a moment to see if there’s a pattern he’s been missing.

That train of thought gets derailed when Steve recalls instead Eddie’s delightful reaction to his new shirt — that Steve definitely hadn’t bought for that specific reason.

Even though Robin had given him that look when he’d first shown it to her — her bright eyes had narrowed, her smile turning a little more coy, and Steve had felt his ears get a little hotter. She hadn’t said anything though, just suggested that he should wear it tomorrow night when they were going out with Eddie.

God, he was glad she suggested it.

Rewinding over Eddie’s parted lips, the way his brown eyes had drank in the details as they trailed up his body and lingered on his arms— Steve had the sudden thought to flex the muscle, just to elicit some reaction, but it had gone out the window at Eddie’s original dismal reaction.

‘Yeah, looks... looks good, man’. Said all aloof, like he hadn’t really thought it. It was like bursting a balloon hidden behind Steve’s ribs, one he wasn’t even aware was there until it was deflating pathetically, making his shoulders sag.

Then— ‘You trying a new style? Going metal on me, big boy?’ And dammit, it’s like Eddie had clocked exactly what calling him ‘big boy’ had done the first time in the Winnebago.

Eddie had then grinned, done another once over of the new shirt, even as Steve pretended to search for his keys and wallet while saying something snarky to try to cover up the heat crawling up his neck. Yet, Steve found himself smiling too because, fuck yes, Eddie liked it too.

But, apparently, whatever Eddie and Robin had discussed wasn’t considered important enough because Robin never brought it up.

The thought and worry about it melt away in Steve’s mind until the memory of that night is about Eddie’s compliment, about his cat-like grin over the popcorn bucket, and how he had leaned over to whisper every bad joke into Steve’s ear all through the movie.

Some of them had been down-right filthy jokes which Eddie only seemed to enjoy more when Steve screwed his face up and nudged Eddie in the ribs, yet unable to hide his smile.

After the third vulgar joke and subsequent nudge, Steve had chided ‘dude’ with a poorly hidden grin. Eddie, smile all cheeky, had nudged him back with a ‘dude’ of his own.

Which, of course, ensued a nudge competition til Robin had given a shush that librarians all over the world would be jealous of. But Steve didn’t even care because he and Eddie were arm to arm, pressed close together and Eddie…didn’t move. Stayed close, like he wanted the closeness the same way Steve did.

Steve only remembers the strange drive-in moment when Robin brings it up finally, on one interesting Saturday night.

It’s not the usual routine; it’s not very often that the whole group gets together to share drinks and get rowdy.

But it was for Robin’s birthday and she’d been persuasive enough to get even the introverts, like Jonathan, to come along. Though, she was aware he’d probably spend the night on a pool lounger, stoned to high heaven. Whatever floats your boat, she’d said, happy for the company in any form.

There’s enough of them there that it almost resembles some sort of party— and makes Steve try not to think about the last small party he threw here. He can tell Nancy notices it too, eyeing the pool a bit too long in a way he’s very familiar with, then taking a swig of beer.

So, Steve heckles them inside — doing a fantastic mothering impression as he waves the group indoors with a promise of pizza, and that has both Jonathan and Argyle perking up and beginning a fast discussion on the best pizza toppings.

Eddie makes a fuss, because of course he does, and moans terribly when Steve tries to roll him off the pool lounger he’s on. He’s had a bit of a joint and some beer, and Steve’s learned that he gets adorably stubborn after some substances.

“Stevie, this is mean,” he had pouted, gripping the edges of the lounger and staring up at Steve with those big brown eyes. “You telling me I did all that bonding with you for nothing? Can’t even lounge by the pool! I’ve got a couch at homeeeee.”

Steve had sent him an amused look of disbelief, hands on his hips after his first round of flicks against Eddie’s arm were apparently fruitless to get him to move. “Really? Didn’t peg you for a gold-digger, Eds.”

Eddie had snorted at that, one hand coming to slap over his mouth. Steve couldn’t quite hear what he had said but the words pegging and anytime slipped through and Steve thinks he could get the gist of that.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Steve muttered, feeling the tips of his ears turn warm. He didn’t know how Eddie could be such a menace— or why he enjoyed it so much when he was. Steve waved a hand in the direction of the doors, ignoring Eddie’s delighted snickering. “If you go inside now, you can be on music, alright?”

And that had finally got them all indoors, Eddie whooping and skedaddling through the doors in an instant, with a call of ‘no take backsies!’ echoing behind him.

Inside was much cozier, the whole group a little more connected when squished up on the couches together. Eddie had taken Steve’s word and was jamming a cassette into one of the speakers when Steve made it back inside after scouting around the pool for leftover cans and butts to throw out.

He’s just been thinking about what playful jab he could make at Eddie’s music, like Eddie always did to him when Robin hollered at him from the kitchen.

“Steve!” She’d yelled excitedly and he come to find her quick, brows raised as he entered the kitchen. She was grinning, already a bit jumpy as she got when she had a bit of liquor — but apparently not enough because when Steve saw what she’d called him in for, she’d announced, “Tequila shots!”

Which lead to now. A hazy combination of beer, tequila, and a bit of weed, and Steve is feeling good. Robin had managed to hijack the music not too long ago, with a hiccup of ‘it’s my birthday’ that had Eddie surrendering with a pout.

She’d since put on a bit of everything: some Blondie for Nance, Talking Heads for Jonathan, and some Bowie, just so she and Steve could dance along to ‘Magic Dance’ and she could do all the silly little goblin voices that made them both cackle.

Steve realised at some point that Robin was playing their mixtape, the one she’d made for driving in the morning, and nearly tripped stumbling over to her in his excitement. He grabbed her shoulders, not too hard, and squeezed.

“Is it- is this our mixtape?” Steve asked, words slurring only a bit. Robin gleamed, hair bouncing with her excited nod.

“Yes!” She was already dancing, even though the tape was between songs — because she knew what song was coming. “It’s Springsteen time, Steve!”

Right as the drums to Born to Run filtered out the speaker.

And oh, Steve loves Robin so much. He loves having a best friend that knows his favourite song and gets jittery and excited because she knows it’s about to play— that she put it on this mix for him.

“You’re my best friend!” Steve says, the words bursting out like he can’t control them. He doesn’t even feel embarrassed, just happy, just drunk, and overwhelming happy to be able to have this.

And even though Robin knows this, she still beams, feet dancing along and just begins to sing along with the song, “In the days, we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream…”

It’s a brazen drunken performance from the both of them. Steve’s chest is heaving after just one chorus that he’s pretty sure he put his whole soul into and he’s so fucking happy —and it feels like pure instinct to seek out Eddie, his eyes scouring the room for him.

Eddie’s leaned up against the wall, hiding his smile behind a can and Steve doesn’t think twice about it— doesn’t think about why he’s so drawn to Eddie, why he wants to include him in this happiness — just extends his hand out and grins.

Eddie sees the bid coming this time.

Part Three.

— 

yes i saw all ur lovely tags and MAYBE cried about it. but thats none of ur business.

@orangeandthefairroadkill @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @phantypurple @omg-elledubs-things @henderdads @farfaras @mixsethaddams @prismandblue @kerlypride @bushbees @legitcookie @temporalcoffin @callmesirkay @beautifully-useless @millyditty @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @ninjapirateunicorns @darkwitchoferie @vi-the-best-you-can @psychosnowfox @desert-fern @scarletzgo @cr0w-culture @softpink-candlelight @livingforfictionalcharacters @makewavesandwar @kozuuji @rhapsodyinalto @eddiethesexy @cassaloopa @lightwoodbanethings @qu33rcommunist @moonlitkilljoy @starkdusk @theysherobinbuckley @sanguineterrain @loganwright @sillysparrow @hotcocoaharrington @eddie-munson-is-my-wife @she-is-tim @steddiehearts @sideblogofthcentury @sidebarre @corrodedcoughin @stevieclaus

[gilmores-glorious-blog]

braius asking everyone except chetney if they’re single is so fucking funny actually since everyone in bells hells except chetney is in a deeply complex situationship with someone else in the party

[scribbling-dragon]

i will never be getting over these two <3

(click for better quality!)

[uzumaki-is-empty-head]

subzam for the doodle requests? :3 or just subz

anon.... anything for you..... anon......

alt ver without the mini doodles xp

Also using this chance to finally set free this scrapped subz wip i have WAH! (I meant for him to have those cartoony glossy eyes and eyebags, but it kinda makes him look like he has slaying eye makeup lol! i honestly rlly like it :3c)

[valeovalairs]

Happy Valentines, I don’t have any art prepared so I offer to you all some WIPs

[blindmagdalena]

Homelander & Yulia "Empress" Bellam. art for my planned homelander x oc fic, The Hand You Wanna Hold is a Weapon. 🖤 ( art by Toyryla )

[shirozora-draws]

It's WHAT day today!? Not me already feeling weird about working on two sketches to post the same weekend as that sketch I posted for the first time in months only to find out that Today is the Two Year Anniversary of The Day Dinluke Took Over My Brain.

(It's not 12AM yet, this still counts as a 12/18 post)

Anyway.

Been dying to do some nice proper "the staircase fic is firmly on my mind" sketches. This version of Luke actually shows up later in the fic and the shape/cut/color of his robes are also influenced by Padme's wardrobe. Din's look has appeared on this blog before and is super duper influenced by what we saw of Aq Vetina's residents in the flashback scenes. The, uh, holocron plays a smaller part than it looks but I bought a holocron at Disneyland and wanted to have fun with my new reference.

Have I posted about the staircase fic on the art blog? It is live and currently posting as Gravity Well on AO3.

[skcirthinq]

Donnie's turn for trauma! as his 5-years-presumed-dead twin who hasn't actually been dead sneaks in his intended last goodbyes!

Whiiile Donnie is trapped in a purple hamster ball.

Guys please.

Please read @sugarpasteltmnt 's The Neon Void.

[petite-phthora]

Hell yeah

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first… murder? - part 17]

<< Prev | Next >>

Part 1

Ao3

---

Danny opens the door to see Red Hood on the other side. They smile and greet each other before Danny steps outside.

“What’s with the bags?” Red Hood asks, gesturing towards the bags Danny has with him.

“Well, this one,” He starts, holding one of the bags up, “is filled with the tp for the manor. While this one,” he holds up the other bag, “has to do with the second part of the date.”

“It’s a surprise for later, so no peeking!” Danny says, wagging his finger.

Red Hood holds up his arms in surrender and nods in response.

“Alright, I won’t peek.”

“Good.” Danny nods, satisfied with the answer.

“Though, would you like me to carry one of those?” Red Hood asks, pointing towards the bags.

Danny opens his mouth to respond but pauses, giving Red Hood a suspicious look.

“This isn’t some ploy to look inside the date bag, is it?”

Red Hood shakes his head in response.

“Nope. Just a genuine question on whether you want me to carry one of those bags or not. No ulterior motives.” He says, not sounding all too convincing.

Danny, who has his eyes still narrowed, gives in.

“Alright. But you carry this one.” He says, handing over the bag with the tp in it.

Red Hood takes it with a nod. They then start walking towards the entrance of the building. Once outside they head over to where Red Hood parked his motorcycle.

“Here, you can put the bags in the saddle bag,” Red Hood says, opening said saddle bag and putting the bag he was carrying inside it before gesturing for Danny to put the one he was carrying in.

After everything is secured and ready, they take off towards the manor.

Instead of going to the front of the manor with the gate, Red Hood takes a different route. They stop somewhere around the back of the manor, beside the stone wall surrounding the property.

Danny takes the bag with the tp with him, leaving the other at the motorcycle.

After looking over the wall to see that none of the manor’s residents are near, they go over it. Luckily for them, the wall isn’t too high and they climb and get down from it with ease.

They go over to the manor and once close enough they stop. Danny holds out the bag he brought between them and opens it up. He takes out some tp rolls and hands one over to Red Hood. They grin at each other.

“Let’s give this manor a little make-over”

“Hell yeah”

Those are the last words spoken between them before they start throwing the rolls at the manor.

---

Danny has another roll of toilet paper in his hand, preparing his next throw. Red Hood is next to him, helmet under his arm, having taken it off a while ago.

They’re both grinning at each other, Red Hood giving Danny a thumbs up in encouragement.

Both grins are quickly wiped off their faces when they hear a pointed ‘ahem’ from behind. Danny turns around startled, the toilet paper roll he was holding falling into the grass when he drops it.

Red Hood, who hadn’t jumped like Danny had, turns around curiously to look at who was interrupting their fun.

Behind them stands an older man with gray hair and a mustache. He’s dressed in an impeccable three-piece suit. He looks at them with a kind and open expression, as if they aren’t trespassers currently defiling the place he works/lives at.

“Good afternoon, Red Hood and guest. Would either of you care for some refreshments? The cookies are just about done.” The newcomer says.

Danny and Red Hood turn to look at each other. Danny gives him a questioning look. Red Hood just shrugs in response. They both turn back to the man in front of them and Danny speaks up.

“Hell yeah, we would love some cookies. If you don’t mind, sir…?”

“Alfred Pennyworth, I’m the Wayne family butler. And your name is?” Mr. Penny inquires as he starts leading them inside the manor and towards the kitchen.

“Danny Fenton at your service, Mr. Pennyworth,” Danny says, doing a silly little bow and almost tripping before he manages to right himself again with a sheepish grin.

“Please, call me Alfred, Mr. Fenton.”

“Only if you call me Danny.”

“Alright. Now, Mr. Danny, Red Hood, would either of you care for a cup of tea?”

---

Jason is looking at Danny and Alfred from a small distance as they are chatting over some cookies and tea. He has his arms crossed and a soft smile across his face.

He doesn’t jump when a voice coming from his right speaks up.

“New Brother?”

He turns to look beside him to see Cass curiously looking over in Danny’s direction. Jason gives her a slight scoff.

“That’s in-law, for you,” he pauses, the next word coming out a lot softer as he turns back to look at Danny who seems to be laughing at something, “hopefully…”

Cass nods in response.

“You’re happy?” She asks with a tilted head.

Jason nods seriously.

Cass smiles.

“Good. Then I’m happy.” She says before disappearing, leaving them be.

---

Behind Danny’s back, Jason catches Alfred’s eye and signs to him.

“I just remembered, the laundry should be done now. Please, excuse me.” Alfred says before leaving the room.

Once Alfred is out of sight Danny turns towards Jason, shoving the last bits of the cookie he was eating inside his mouth.

“So, you ready to get that autograph?” Jason asks him, holding out his hand towards Danny.

Danny glances over at the door Alfred just left through before looking back over at Jason and smiling at him.

“Hell yeah.” He says before taking Jason’s hand and using it to get up from his seat.

Without letting go of his hand, Jason starts leading Danny through the manor.

There’s no way they’d have been able to avoid all cameras in the manor, especially since they went inside with Alfred, so Jason doesn’t bother trying to be sneaky.

They already know of Danny anyway…

While they’re walking towards where Jason knows Tim’s room is, Danny looks curiously around the place.

“Say, how do you know your way around here so well?” He asks Jason.

“I’ve been around here a few times.” He replies casually.  “You don’t wanna know how many of their gala’s have been attacked or the amount of times the Wayne’s have been held hostage” He rolls his eyes. Jason stops walking.

“Alright, I’m pretty sure this is Mr. Drake-Wayne’s room,” Jason says, opening the door of one of the various rooms in the manor and stepping inside.

“Do I want to know how you’d know which rooms belong to which residents?”

“Probably not.”

“Alright, then I won’t ask,” Danny replies with an unconcerned shrug.

Danny looks around the room, inspecting it while taking care not to touch anything.

“Hmmm, do you think he’ll have any documents with his signature here? Or does he keep them all at that Wayne Tower thingy?

“Might’ve been a smarter idea to have gone there for something of use…” Danny says, muttering the last part more to himself than to Jason.

Jason shrugs in response, walking towards the desk.

“He probably has something lying around we could snatch. But if need be, I wouldn’t say no to breaking into the tower and getting the signature from there.”

“More breaking and entering, huh? Would that be another date?” Danny says before fake swooning. “How romantic” Danny grins, trying to ignore how warm his face feels.

Jason snorts at the bit. He then starts looking through the papers lying on the desk,  picking up one of the pieces of paper. He scans it, finding it to be some sort of agreement contract between Wayne Enterprises and some other tech company.

It didn’t seem too important and, knowing Tim, if it were he’d probably already have multiple copies and back-ups at another location.

Now that Jason’s thinking about it, this paper is most likely already a copy and not the original. So he feels no remorse handing it over to Danny.

“Here, check this out.” Jason points to the bottom of the document where Tim’s signature is located.

Danny takes the document from him, glancing over the signature with a smile.

“Alright! This is perfect, thanks Red!” He looks up from the document and beams at Jason, who makes a ‘don’t worry about it’ gesture.

Danny then puts the paper into his bag for safekeeping before speaking up again.

“Soooo… Wanna finish our tp project before ditching this place for the second part of the date?”

“Hell yeah,” Jason responds with a grin.

---

Taglist:

@i-always-say-yea @uraniumwizard @why-must-i-be-like-this @griffinthing @i23432i @imsotiredfanficlovertm @jaguarthecat @arkita-shadow @ilydana @jai-twin

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Speak Easy to Me

Human Hotel Trip ~ Part 6 ~ 6k

Hazbin Hotel ₊⁺⋆ Charlastor ₊⁺⋆ Eventually Explicit

Part 1 ⚜️Part 2 ⚜️ Part 3 ⚜️ Part 4 ⚜️ Part 5 ⚜️ Part 6 ⚜️ Finale

// Charlie and Alastor finally appreciate the honeymoon suite. Smut, angst with a happy ending. Alastor is inexperienced and Charlie helps him learn quickly. //

⊹❀⊹❀⊹✨⊹❀⊹❀⊹

Charlie tugged Alastor with her into the elevator, her cheeks blazing and laughter bubbling from her lips as the doors slid closed behind them. 

“I think we scandalized the whole party.” She giggled, trying to keep her mascara from running. It was just so ridiculous that a ballroom full of adults would clap and holler over one little kiss. 

Okay, so maybe it was a few kisses, but still. 

Charlie glanced up at Alastor, expecting to see his usual smile or even a smirk, but his eyes were wide behind his glasses and a faint blush tinged his brown skin pink. His dark hair was disheveled—her doing, whoops. 

“Hey, Al, are you okay?” She asked softly, her delight cooling to concern as she leaned up on her toes to gently touch his cheek. “You feel warm…”

The moment her fingers brushed his skin, Alastor’s demeanor flipped like a switch. His eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that stole the air from her lips, just as he leaned down to capture them in a searing kiss. 

It was nothing like the kiss on the dance floor. That one had been a challenge, seeing whose resolve would break first and pull away. 

This was, well, it wasn’t gentle. But it was desperate, almost needy. Like he had to have her mouth on his to answer whatever was occupying his mind and consuming his thoughts.

Charlie’s hand came to rest on his chest, gripping into his black vest. She felt Alastor’s heart racing under her palm as he pulled back to look at her.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Worry crept into his voice—did he think he’d upset her by kissing the breath out of her?? And since when could Alastor kiss like that?

There was always more to the mystery of the Radio Demon.

"I’m more than alright.” Charlie admitted, blinking past her whirling thoughts, trying to calm the concern she could still feel radiating from him. “I just…never thought you liked anyone, like that.”

“Nor did I,” Alastor admitted, his tone and his gaze far off.

Charlie bit her lip, realizing she wasn’t helping whatever swirl of emotions he was feeling that made his hand limp in hers.

Damn slow elevators.

“But I’m not upset about it, so you know…um.” Charlie diverted, her cheeks warming again, but pushing through because Alastor needed the reassurance. “Yesterday, when we were in here with all those people and you leaned over me—I kinda, wanted to kiss you then.”

Her face burned as she confessed, but that giddy little nervous giggle bubbled from her lips.

Alastor just looked stunned.

Charlie felt her face flame, and she ducked her head. “I’m so sorry; I shouldn’t have said that. Fuck, what was I thinking?”

But Alastor’s hand was suddenly under her chin, tilting her face up to meet that burning intensity in his still brown eyes. "

“Did you like that, darling?” His voice was low and smooth as she’d ever heard at it.

“Yes…” Charlie squeaked, fighting the anxious habit of dissolving into giggles and wriggle away.

Alastor’s expression broke into a real, genuine grin as he pressed her back against the elevator wall. His hand came up to brace beside her head, trapping her against him.

Charlie’s mind reeled. Just like yesterday—was that only yesterday—but so, so different. All alone in the elevator. The air crackled brightly between them without a hint of his irritated static sounds.

Impatient for more, she grabbed for Alastor’s vest to pull him down into another kiss.

But he just chuckled, and stayed maddeningly out of reach, his lips at her temple.

“Not so fast,” He purred. “Say what you said, before.”

His lips ghosted along her cheek, his breath tickling the hair that waved in front of her ears. Making it hard for Charlie to think straight.

“Um…it’s okay, Al?” she guessed, her words breathless.

Alastor’s lips hummed along her jawline before skipping her mouth again. “Close, but not quite…try again.”

Charlie swallowed hard, the desire building hot and fast from Alastor’s teasing almost kisses as she wracked her mind.

Then it clicked.

“Just focus on me.”

Alastor gave a hum of approval. “Gladly,” he purred, and finally, finally, he ducked his head to kiss her.

Charlie gasped into his mouth, overwhelmed by another flair of his searing intensity. Her hands flew up to grip his shoulders, anchoring herself as her entire understanding of Alastor tilted on its axis.

There was no hesitation in the way he held her, one hand cupping her face, while his thumb eased her lips open—until she could taste whiskey on his tongue.

Charlie responded eagerly, her fingers sliding back into his dark hair.

Clinging to him like a lifeline, and amazed every moment Alastor didn’t pull away from her.

✧✦✧✦⚜️✧✦✧✦

Alastor’s lips found Charlie’s with renewed fervor as he kicked the door of the honeymoon suite closed without breaking their kiss

Their bodies moved in tandem, easy as a slow dance, with his arm around her waist and hers linked around his shoulders—until her heels hit the edge of the bed. The Princess pulled the demon with her back onto the mattress.

Alastor’s heart lept up into his throat as Charlie dragged him with her, graceless but so eager he could hardly lift his torso off of hers. Sweet Charlie, heart on her sleeve, her desires plain as a song with every little sound she made.

He wanted to collect every single one and make a record just for her.

“Just like when you had too much to drink last night.” Charlie’s giggle was music to his ears, her golden eyes sparkling with mischief.

She was so damningly beautiful. No matter what form she was in—it might just be the end of him.

“Tipsy, darling.” Alastor pulled back, a trademark grin on his face. “Alas, I assure you, now I am fully aware.” He brushed his lips across her wonderfully warm cheek as he found his way to her neck.

Charlie’s laughter bubbled up, a sound that sent shivers of delight through Alastor.

He sucked a mark of the point of her rabbiting pulse, relishing the softness, the sweetness, the taste that was uniquely hers.

Alastor shifted, moving himself further up the bed, fingers gripping the comforter—the same one they’d left in a heap that very morning. Charlie’s pale legs wrapped around his narrow waist, her dress riding up her thighs, so pulling them so intimately together.

The contact sent a jolt of electricity through every nerve, making the Radio Demon acutely aware of his own arousal straining against his slacks…mirrored by the heat he could feel from Charlie.

“I’m so glad we have this big bed.” The blonde laughed easily.

Alastor froze, despite the heat of her gasp against his ear.

His mind flashed back to that morning, how he’d promised himself he would sleep on the couch out of respect. Things had changed so quickly. And, as much as he now desperately craved her closeness…she drew another feeling from the depths of his long-dead heart.

Apprehension. A sudden, crippling self-doubt that he had never experienced.

That almost made him miss the feeling of her small fingers sliding between their bodies to work at the button of his slacks.

Alastor’s hand shot out, grasping Charlie’s wrist in a vise, gently but firmly, pulling it away from his crotch. His heart thudding with a disastrous mix of lust and churning anxiety.

“Al?” Charlie’s voice was laced with worry. “Are you okay?”

He winced, hiding from it only for as long as he could.

“Yes, of course.” Alastor brought her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her palm, before he felt the strained words come out of his mouth. “And…no.”

“Is something wrong?” Charlie’s brow was furrowed with an irritating amount of concern, and she moved to sit up. “You can tell me.”

Alastor leaned back on his knees to allow her the room; his gaze turned from her as his smile became a wretched, vulnerable thing.

His pride was already smarting.

Kissing something he had done plenty. Decades ago, of course, but a man couldn’t go raising suspicions by not having a few dates with pretty girls—but that was the extent of his experience. And he was going to have to confess that, to Charlie.

“I have…I’ve never been this close to anyone before.” She had been correct—he didn’t like people. Alastor took a deep breath, his eyes closed, so he didn’t have to meet hers. “Never been…intimate. And I am…” he despised the taste of this word on his tongue. “Afraid that I do not know to do it properly.”

The very notion that he would fail to please Charlie…was something Alastor’s ego simply could not abide by.

✧✦✧✦⚜️✧✦✧✦

Charlie took an agonizingly long time to process what he was saying. The tortuous silence was worse than anything he’d experience in Hell, and his anxiety mounting with every passing second.

“Oh!” she finally exclaimed, those golden eyes gone wide. “Sorry, I just, had no idea. The way you kissed me and you were using your mouth on my neck…” She rubbed at the reddened skin along her throat, her words trailing off.

Alastor felt a small surge of satisfaction at her words, some of his wounded ego recovering as he squared his shoulders. “Well, I am a quick study,” he said, attempting to inject the facade of his usual confidence.

Charlie’s expression only softened, and when she reached up to cup his cheek, he leaned into her hand. “It’s okay Al, really. We can take it slow—I don’t want anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Alastor felt his lips pull back over his teeth, knowing that his urge was to snap at her. To lash out when his ego was bruised. But he didn’t want to do that to Charlie.

Part of him hated that she was taking it easy on him, treating him like some blushing virgin.

Even if that was precisely what he was.

But another part, what he hoped was a larger part, was secretly grateful for her understanding.

“You’re too kind.” Alastor cupped Charlie’s hand to his face, still fighting with the conflicting thoughts.

The Radio Demon was entirely unaccustomed to the fear of inadequacy gnawing at him.

Until Charlie nudged him gently. “Hey,” she smiled, pulling her hand away and leaving an ache in his chest. “Let me up for a sec?”

Alastor obliged, shifting his weight to allow her to stand, though he wilted a bit at the loss of contact. Already thinking it a consequence of his ineptitude.

He watched Charlie stand, pulling off her earrings and her pearl necklace to set them aside. His eyes drawn to her as she smoothed her fabric back down, hiding her legs from him.

Alastor felt an undercurrent of static bristle under his skin.

“C’mon Al, I was just going to change out of this dress.” Charlie must have heard his brooding mood, because she came back to him. He lifted his head as she draped her arms around his shoulders. “We can keep kissing as much as you like.”

Alastor cocked an eyebrow up at her. Wanting her was far from the issue.

“But I don’t want you sleeping on that tiny couch tonight.”

“Oh?” His hands came to hold her waist. “And where, pray tell, do you suggest I sleep?”

Charlie rolled her eyes playfully, trying to neaten the mess that had been made of his hair. “With me.” She said simply.

From her blush, he knew she knew what she’d said. Leaving him reeling over what she meant by it.

The Princess was toying with him.

But then, Charlie was kissing him again. Reassuring Alastor that, yet again, he had not scared her off. Though her lips were gentler on his this time. Still going easy on him, he thought bitterly.

When she leaned back, she was still giggling, and Alastor couldn’t help but admire how disheveled she looked. Her blonde waves were a mess from his eager hands.

“Al?” Charlie’s voice brought through his thoughts. “Could you help me with this zipper?”

"Of course, my dear," he replied automatically, ever the gentleman. He rose to his feet, moving behind her.

As Alastor's fingers pulled the dress apart, he was suddenly very aware of every inch of exposed skin. The elegant curve of her neck, the smooth expanse of her shoulders, the line drawn down to the small of her back...that overwhelming urge to touch her returned with a vengeance.

Charlie said she liked the feeling of his mouth on her neck—stirring something primal within him.

Alastor leaned closer to her, his cheek pressed to her soft hair, nuzzling against her, wondering if she would rebuff his boldness.

But Charlie, sweet Charlie who sang to him like a siren, was leaning back into his touch and giving him all the encouragement he needed. The warmth of her body sent a shiver through him. And his fingers played down the crook of her neck and shoulder like the keys of a piano.

“You can touch me as much as you want, you know,” Charlie murmured, tilting her head invitingly.

Alastor didn’t need to be told twice.

He eagerly ducked his head, leaving a trail of sucking kisses along her pale skin. His human teeth, he noted with a hint of frustration, left a shallow imitation of the marks he could make as a demon.

Still, Charlie’s soft sighs of pleasure were invading his senses like an intoxicating drink.

“That…feels amazing.” She breathed, octaves dropping with her obvious desire.

Emboldened by her words, his hands mapped the curve of her spine, slipping under the dress to touch more and more. Alternating between gentle nips and soothing licks. So caught up he didn’t register Charlie’s hands moving to let the dress drop in a pool of black sequence around her ankles.

Alastor was eager to discover every inch exposed as she pressed back into his body, lighting every nerve as her delicate fingers splayed over his.

Charlie moved their linked hands to her chest, and with a minute click, her bra was undone and falling to the ground.

He panted gently against the side of her head, overwhelmed with the softness of the flesh beneath his palms. “Charlie…” Alastor heard the plea in his own voice.

“It’s okay…like this.” She murmured back to him, cupping his hands around her breasts, brushing his thumbs over the peaks of her nipples.

Charlie was clever, but Alastor knew what she was doing. Patient, subtle guidance that was careful not to bruise his ego.

He couldn’t think to care right now, too entranced by the little gasps and exhales he drew from the princess as he explored her. He cataloged each and every precious note, determined to collect them all.

“Darling girl,” he murmured against her ear, “you make the most…exquisite sounds.”

Charlie shivered in his arms, reaching back to tangle her fingers into his hair, her pants tender and filled with affection.

Charlie wriggled against him, her movements becoming more urgent. As she pressed back, Alastor felt her ass against his growing arousal. Surprisingly, he found it easy to ignore that particular sensation. His focus narrowed to the heat of her skin, how he caused her breath to quicken and a moan to slip from her with the flick of his thumb.

Emboldened and with deft fingers, Alastor slid his hand across Charlie’s black panties—a burst of harmonic hum escaped him as he felt her wet warmth.

"My, my," he purred, his voice taking on a slight echo. "You're absolutely drenched, cher."

Charlie gave a gasping laugh. "You're…you're really turning me on right now."

Alastor chuckled, low and deep, nipping her ear. "Show me," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "Where you want to be touched."

"My…my clit," Charlie breathed, her cheeks beautifully red. She guided his hand into her panties, curling her fingers over his to show him exactly where she wanted him.

When he found that sensitive bundle of nerves, he was rewarded with the delicious sound of Charlie crying out his name. It sent a thrill through Alastor, stoking his own desire into a brilliant fire.

"Darling…" he murmured, tilting her head back to better hear her sounds.

He experimented with different touches, light caresses, and firmer strokes. Each movement drew another captivating sound from Charlie. Letting Alastor wonder what other delightful notes he could coax from her, with Charlie’s body as his instrument.

Her hips moved in small, enticing circles. Pressing back against him again. Distracting him only momentarily as she bit into her bottom lip.

Alastor gripped her by the chin and neck, holding her still to regain his focus.

Charlie’s breathing grew ragged, and it thrilled him that she couldn’t manage to keep her mouth closed when he was touching her.

“Al…I’m close. I’m so close.” She whined.

The demon’s eyes gleamed with pure excitement. “I want to see your face.” He demanded in a sultry voice. “I want you to look at me.”

Charlie nodded eagerly, but lamented loudly when he moved her.

Alastor chuckled, snapping his fingers to vanish her remaining undergarments and shoes as he turned her around and pushed her back onto the bed with newfound confidence, pushing her legs apart.

Charlie looked an absolute mess beneath him—but the way her eyes were on him exhilarated Alastor. Drinking in the power of it.

Her fists wrinkled his red button down, desperately trying to get his hands back on her.

Alastor pinned Charlie’s shoulder to the bed, teasing his touch down her body, before relenting to what she wanted. His fingers drawing over her soaking lips, before finding her clit again.

Charlie moaned, but bit into her lip to stifle it.

“Now, now. None of that.” Alastor tutted disapprovingly, using his free hand to grasp her chin again. "Let me hear you sing for me."

Charlie’s eyes were wide with want as she plead, “Please, Al…I need more. I need your fingers inside me.”

Alastor felt a surge of pure pride at her desperate tone. She was begging for him, and it was truly intoxicating.

“Show me.” He commanded, his own words heavy with desire.

Charlie grabbed at the wrist that was at her neck, but didn’t tug him away. Her other hand showed him how to curl his two fingers just so.

Alastor eagerly mimicked the motion, relishing the way her body responded. He rubbed the heel of his palm against her clit, watching her face intently for every flicker of pleasure.

Suddenly, Charlie's grip on his wrist tautened. "Al…Alastor~" she cried out, her body trembling. "Fuck!"

Alastor began to withdraw his fingers, but Charlie held him firmly in place. "Don't stop," she gasped. "Please~"

He continued his ministrations, mesmerized by the way her inner walls clenched around him.

The sounds she made were unlike anything he'd ever heard—a symphony of ecstasy that rivaled even the most agonized screams he'd elicited in Hell.

As Charlie's bliss subsided, she released his wrist and let him pull away, her chest heaving.

Alastor looked down at her, feeling a surge of satisfaction unlike any he'd experienced before. He blinked away the red glow in his eyes, surprise his demonic form was trying to manifest.

Charlie gazed up at him, a dopey, contentment grin on her face. She reached for his hand, bringing it to her lips. Alastor watched, transfixed, as she began to suck her own slick from his fingers.

Unable to resist, he surged forward, capturing her lips to taste her. He hated sugar…but her sweetness left him wanting. He’d have to have her from the source, and soon.

"I want you,” she barely pulled her lips back from his. "I want to make you feel good, too."

Alastor hesitated.

He wanted to. Heavens, he wanted her more than anything. But…the idea of a, premature performance, was utterly mortifying.

Before he could think of how he should respond, Charlie pulled him close by the open collar of his shirt to pant into his ear. “Can I ride you, Alastor?”

“Yes,” he blurted out, surprising himself with his own eagerness. In for a penny, in for a pound.

⊹❀⊹❀⊹✨⊹❀⊹❀⊹

Charlie was all eagerness as she got Alastor onto his back so she could straddle his narrow hips, her body still tingling from his talented fingers.

She wanted more. Needed to feel him inside her—but first, she needed him out of these clothes, dapper as they were and as gorgeous as he looked all disheveled and aroused.

Even getting his shirt unbuttoned felt like something rare and forbidden, with the way his demon form was covered from neck to toe.

Charlie reached for the next button with a determined glint in her eye. When he caught her wrists.

“Al?” Her brow furrowed, looking at his widened eyes. “You okay?”

Alastor winced, and she could see the way his upper lip twitched with contempt at his own insecurity. “I am…concerned you won’t like what you see.” He admitted, like his silver tongue had turned to lead.

Charlie’s expression softened. She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek to get his attention back on her. "

“That’s not possible, Al. I already like seeing you like this.” Was it cheesy, yes, absolutely. But it wasn’t wrong either. The Radio Demon just had an irresistible appeal, no matter what form he was in.

Alastor searched her face, like he was looking for the smallest hint of deception—but there was none to find. Slowly, he released her wrists.

Charlie ducked to kiss him, resuming her unbuttoning of his shirt, keeping her touch feather light over his exposed skin.

He tensed as she pushed the fabric aside, and she saw why.

A faded scar ran from his right hip almost up to his left shoulder. “Oh, Al,” Charlie felt her composure flicker into a pained realization. “Is this from…the fight with Adam?”

Alastor swallowed hard. “Yes, it seems angelic weapons leave a rather indelible mark.”

Charlie felt a surge of emotion clogging her throat. She reached for him, but hesitated at the last moment.

“Does it hurt?” She asked quickly.

"Not anymore.” Alastor shook his head. “It's just…unsightly."

Charlie felt her eyes blaze with the fiery swelling in her chest. This time, she was the one to lean forward. Caging Alastor’s head with her arms, so he had to look up at her.

“Alastor, you got that protecting me. And our friends.” The princess said, with a fierceness that kept him from looking away. She splayed her fingers over his chest, and over the scar. “You got it defending our hotel. There’s nothing unsightly about it.”

Alastor opened his mouth, but nothing came out. And maybe, Charlie took a little bit of pride in stunning him. On making the Radio Demon, infamous for the gift of gab, speechless.

Charlie wasn’t finished with him.

With their eyes still locked together, the blonde ducked down, and pressed her lips to the angel blade scar. The tenderness of it left him breathless, but before Charlie could trail her kisses up the mark to his lips—Alastor seized her face in both his hands and pulled her mouth to his.

Part of her was still surprised at this much affection from him—this kiss was undeniably and absolutely loving.

"Charlie," Alastor's voice echoed, no longer the smooth radio announcer's tone but a whisper husky with yearning. The surreal sensation his body writhing beneath her was amplified by the desperate plea. "

Yes, Al?" Charlie responded, her lips brushing against his in a teasing peck.

His grip on her hips was bruising, and the noise that slipped past his gritted teeth was like a radio dial spinning wildly through frequencies.

Charlie decided to show him some mercy.

But Alastor's impatience surged forth as he made his remaining clothes vanish just as she undid the buttons on his fitted trousers.

His cock was achingly hard and leaking—making the princess feel profoundly empty without him.

Charlie shifted above Alastor, placing one hand on his chest for balance while aligning him at her entrance with the other. As she slowly lowered herself onto his length, he watched with rapt fascination.

Her eyes fluttered closed for just a moment as he stretched her so perfectly, making her walls clench.

"Ch-Charlie," he stammered out, arms wrapping around her waist to still her.

Charlie understood in an instant from the heat of his face where it was buried against her neck.

"It's okay," she whispered soothingly into his ear while running gentle fingers through his hair, fighting to keep her hips still and be as patient as she promised. . "We have all the time in the world."

Eventually, his panting breaths against her neck became slower and steadier.

Charlie bit her lip and nuzzled closer to the demon. Because she knew how precious his composure was to Alastor; this vulnerable side of him was only for her. Which just made her heart swell in her chest.

When he lifted his head, seeking another kiss from her lips, Charlie eagerly met him. Her arms looped around his shoulders, and she began to move her hips in a slow, easy rhythm.

His breath hitched audibly but he made no move to stop her.

"Darling..." Alastor's gave a ragged pant against her lips, "You feel... divine."

A soft sound escaped Charlie at the rawness of his voice, so different from the crisp, clear tones he usually employed.

"Al, I—" Before Charlie could return the sentiment, his fingers were tangled in her hair, pulling her head back and exposing her throat to his eager mouth.

When her movements faltered slightly under his touch, Alastor used one hand on the small of her back to pull her closer again. She let out a soft whimper; if he needed control, she was more than willing to relinquish it.

"Charlie," Alastor purred against the skin of her collarbone, his teeth grazing lightly over her chest before latching onto a sensitive nipple.

His name left her lips like a curse. This time, when she stuttered, his hips rose to meet her. Thrusting into her hard and fast, and just right. She was so sensitive, but she had to reach between them to find push her self over the edge with him.

Alastor caught hold of her wrist.

Charlie started, opening her eyes to see if he was alright—when she saw his grin.

"Allow me," he insisted smoothly as he replaced her fingers with his on her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Charlie moaned and wrapped arms around Alastor's shoulders once more, trying to hold back but she was so damn sensitive from before...

"Alastor," she whimpered just as she felt him shudder beneath her. She let her head fall back, as she chased her bliss.

When he grabbed her by the face one last time, demanding every little gasp and whine and sound of her pleasure, vaguely aware of his warmth filling her.

✧✦✧✦⚜️✧✦✧✦

As they lay together, catching their breath, Alastor found his mind consumed with yet another unfamiliar feeling.

A terrifying, cloying, neediness.

His body felt sated, his head finally free of the insatiable thoughts of Charlie—but he couldn’t fathom the thought of pulling away from her either.

She slumped against his chest, her hair splayed across him again—and all he could think was that he wanted to ease the tangles from her blonde locks. Alastor had already lifted a hand to do so, when he saw the human skin and bones.

Had he only slept with her because he was weak with human urges? A worse thought still—had Charlie only wanted him, because he currently looked human?

This feeling unsettled Alastor to his very core, making him feel devastatingly, uncharacteristically vulnerable.

Charlie gave a soft sound as she slipped off of him, causing a panic to rise in Alastor, dreading the moment that she would pull away—only to have her settle back beside him.

“That was amazing, Al.” Charlie leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, before focusing her golden eyes on him. "Are you alright?”

Alastor banished the uncertainty from his smile as he regarded her. “More than that, darling. Just…splendid.”

Charlie chuckled, and he wondered if he’d overdone it.

“Me too.” She just agreed, before nestling into his chest.

And the creeping emptiness vanished at her touch. Alastor finally settled back against the too soft pillows, and just, let himself wrap his arms around Charlie.

After a long moment, the Princess stirred. “We should probably get up and get cleaned up.” she murmured, voice heavy with contentment and movements heavier with fatigue.

Alastor tightened his arm around her. “Now, that won’t do.” His usual timbre returning to his words as he flicked his fingers. With a flash of green glow, he magicked them both refreshed.

Though, perhaps selfishly, he didn’t redress them for bed.

“Handy trick,” Charlie just gave a giggle, reaching for the rumpled blankets and smoothing it over them both. Before she snuggled right back against his chest.

Alastor wondered if they were meant to just…fall asleep after sex, if that was the usual protocal, when Charlie lifted her head again.

“Goodnight, Al.” She leaned up, cupping his cheek, and dropping a lazy kiss on his lips. Alastor felt himself clinging to Charlie for as long as she allowed, only to be interrupted by a yawn.

“Goodnight, my dear.” Alastor murmured, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

As Charlie's breathing evened out in sleep, Alastor found himself wide awake. He stared at the ceiling, his mind racing. The unfamiliar emotions swirling within him were both thrilling and terrifying.

Sleep, it seemed, would be elusive tonight.

✧✦✧✦⚜️✧✦✧✦

It was around three or four in the morning, the witching hour, when Alastor finally gave up and slipped out of bed.

After carefully extricating himself from Charlie’s embrace, he slipped on one of the soft robes the hotel had provided—before he transfigured it into one more his style. Though, the cool red silk was a stark contrast from the warmth he’d left behind.

Silent as he could, Alastor made his way to the balcony, pushing the heavy curtains aside, and stepping out into the still warm and humid, but slightly less stifling night air.

Leaning against the railing, Alastor gazed at the twinkling lights of Bourbon Street—the music was still atrocious and ill-matched, but dulled at this hour into an almost pleasant murmur.

“What have I done?” He growled at himself, running a hand through his mussed hair. “Given someone else a chain to link around my neck, it seems.” He snarled into the night air.

The very notion of a romantic, or physical, entanglement was incompatible with his ambitions. Overlords fell before him because they had things, people, to lose.

Yet here Alastor was. He’d tied a string around his heart and then just dropped it into Charlie’s hand. He was at her mercy.

So why did the idea thrill him as much as it terrified him?

Alastor’s perpetual smile faltered as a new, horrid thought took hold.

No one had said that Charlie felt the same as he. Perhaps it was just…sex to the Princess, withering as that idea was.

What if she only brought Alastor to bed, because of this handsome human disguise he wore? Yes, it had been his face. But it wasn’t who he was. Not anymore.

“Fuck,” a bitter laugh escaped him. Alastor, the Radio Demon, had forgotten who he was. After all the coaching and talking to himself, he’d thrown it all down the elevator shaft the moment Charlie gave even a hint that she wanted to kiss him.

He was not the pretty face that he covered with his hand. The monster lurked beneath soft brown skin and coiffed dark hair. He was not the man Charlie had brought to her bed.

Alastor’s form began to shift, manifesting his inner turmoil. His fingers elongated, nails sharpening and turning scarlet. His smile stretched unnaturally wide, teeth growing sharp and meshed together like threshing blades.

This time, he didn’t fight the transformation. He needed to be reminded of this cursed, elongated body, the antlers, the ears, the gray skin that gave him the pallor of death with his blood-red eyes.

Standing there in the moonlight, Alastor looked down at himself. At the claws grasping the iron wrought railings, as he let out a soft, agonized laugh that crackled with static.

“As soon as the Radio Demon returns to Hell,” Alastor murmured as he lifted his hand and clenched his fist. “Charlie will remember exactly what you are.”

✧✦✧✦⚜️✧✦✧✦

"Alastor?" Charlie's soft voice cut through the night air, startling him from his brooding thoughts.

He leaned forward from the wicker bench that had been placed on the balcony overlooking Bourbon Street. For a moment, Alastor thought he was dreaming, seeing her framed in the open window, clad only in his red button-down shirt.

Dream or not, the sight of Charlie in his clothes stirred something in him—despite being in his proper demonic body.

"My dear, are you alright?" Alastor asked, his voice a low wavering tone.

"M’fine,” Charlie nodded, rubbing sleep from her eyes and giving a yawn that stilled the trembling signal inside him. “You didn’t come back to bed"

Alastor's permanent grin widened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I assure you, I am perfectly fine, darling. You should go back to bed."

"Not without you," Charlie mumbled, moving towards him with surprising determination for someone half-asleep.

Before Alastor could protest, Charlie plopped down next to him on the bench.

Without hesitation, she pulled his arm around her shoulders, nestling against his side. Like his return to his demonic form, his real body, didn't faze her in the slightest.

“You’ve been through a lot this weekend, Y’know.”

Alastor stiffened, caught off guard by her easy affection. "Charlie, I—"

"So, I'll go back inside when you do," she interrupted, stifling another yawn.

Her gesture touched him deeply, though he tried not to show it. "We have a long trip back to Hell in the morning.” Well, a short trip, but one that would be taxing on her magic. “You need your rest."

Charlie nodded against his chest. "Mm-hmm. It'll be nice to sleep in my own bed again." She paused, brow furrowing. "Do you even have a bed in your room, Al?"

"I haven’t had the need for one," he admitted, surprised by her perceptiveness even in this state. And wondering where the hell she was going with this.

Alastor would not allow himself to get his hopes up, not again.

Charlie's eyes fluttered closed as she snuggled closer. "Well, you can use my bed whenever you do need one."

Alastor froze, his mind reeling at the implications of her sleepy offer.

He looked down at her, nestled so comfortably against his demonic form. When he felt something swelling in him anew.

A sound burst forth from Alastor's chest. It wasn't his usual static or feedback, but a soft, sweet melody—a lullaby flowing from him, unbidden.

Charlie stirred, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at him. “...that's beautiful," she murmured.

Alastor's red eyes widened, realizing what was happening. He hadn't consciously chosen to produce this song. It was as if his very essence was responding to Charlie's presence, her acceptance of him.

The trust he’d tried so hard to cultivate for his own means…that he never meant to return.

“I…suppose it is.” He murmured, his voice overlaid with the tune.

Charlie's breathing deepened, her body relaxing further against him. Until Alastor was cradling Charlie in his arms, as her melody meandered through the night air.

⚜️ Part 7 ~ Epilogue ⚜️

Part 1 ⚜️Part 2 ⚜️ Part 3 ⚜️ Part 4 ⚜️ Part 5 ⚜️ Part 6 ⚜️ Finale

[thisiswhereikeepdcthings]

In case someone out there has never encountered a goose, and is wondering if they really are that terrible, well…

…Yes. Yes they are.

[seleneprince]

Unpopular opinion:

Remus Lupin was as capable of cruelty and arrogance as the rest of the Marauders. There are plenty of hints of this in canon. The only reason we don't see this side of him as often is because of his heavy reluctante to be considered a "bad guy".

And he low-key enjoyed going against Snape just as much, he just had some conscience aftewards.