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adventuresloane · 3 years

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The Wanted (Revised Hurloane Fic) - Chapter 1

Summary:

"They had nearly as many names as they had stories told about them. Ram. Raven. Red. Devil. Deputy. Outlaw. Short 'n Long. Ghosts of the Rapids."

Hurley's a bounty hunter, the Raven is an outlaw, and the desert is a lonely place.

(The 50k+ Old West Hurloane AU Where Hurley Becomes A Thief Too that no one asked for. Updates every Friday. Edited and reposted from an old version of the story--more significant changes to come in later chapters. T for non-graphic violence and discussions of death/injury/trauma.)

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They had nearly as many names as they had stories told about them.

Ram. Raven. Red. Devil. Deputy. Outlaw. Short 'n Long. Ghosts of the Rapids.

What happened to them depends on who you ask. Some say the Raven twisted the Ram, but then again, the Ram might have been born with badness in the marrow of their bones. They say the outlaw was a thief, that her glittering horde still lies somewhere out in the desert among the canyons. They say the deputy was a sharpshooter with twenty notches on their pistol, one for every man who tried to take them. They say they were very much in love.

Maybe they still are. People who camp alone by the river say at night, they hear too-loud whispers over the rush.

If you ask the only man who was there that day, he'll tell you the same thing every time, and nothing more: "They went over the cliff and into the river. Never found the bodies."

He won't tell you whether they were dead before they hit the water. He won't even tell you whether they were shot at all. Maybe, as some say, the two of them just tipped, hand-in-hand, falling backwards over the edge together as children let themselves fall into soft grass.

--------------------------

"I don't give a rat's ass what Bane said. She so much as looks at me wrong, I'm shooting."

Hurley heard the murmuring and looked over their shoulder. The two men were lagging, their mounts clopping along at a lackadaisical pace. Barbra and Lil' Jerry rode side-by-side and leaned toward each other in their saddles as they spoke in what could charitably be called a whisper. Hurley slowed their own horse a bit to get closer and listen.

"Yeah, as if you'd live long enough to press the trigger," Lil' Jerry snickered in response. "You couldn't outdraw a tin can."

"Oh, fuck off! I take care of myself fine."

"Ah, whatever."

"Besides, I'll have my gun drawn the whole time we're giving chase. I'm not taking chances on this one. You've heard the stories. Even saw the blood in one of those train cars that one time, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Lil' Jerry muttered.

"Everyone's quicker on the trigger when they know their gun's the only thing between them and the Big Sleep," Barbra declared. "That's just survival instinct."

"That poor Abernathy fuck wasn't. Quicker, that is."

"That doesn't mean you just wave a gun around if there's nothing in sight to shoot," Hurley piped up. They took more than a little satisfaction in how the two men looked at them, first with surprise and then with frustration, as if they'd really thought they were getting away with something.

"We weren't talking to you."

"You might as well have been. You were loud enough. Bane told us we have to start moving quietly. The Raven's probably in this area."

"Trust you to do whatever he tells you." Hurley bristled as Lil' Jerry went on, "This is only your first time out, so we don't need you telling us what to do with our mouths or our guns."

"I know my way around a gun just fine, and you know tha--"

"All of you," said a deep voice, causing Hurley to stop instantly, "would be better off if you paid more attention to what's around you instead of whatever bullshit you're going on about."

Hurley said, "Sorry" while the boys behind them mumbled the word vaguely. At once, they prompted their horse to pick up speed and catch up with Bane as he led the way.

When they had been riding alongside him for a few minutes, he leaned their way a little. "Though I would say," he started conspiratorially, "having seen both of you at target practice, I trust you to point a pistol the right way quite a bit more than I trust Barbra."

They snickered a little. "I'd hope so, Sheriff."

"You've got a head on your shoulders, even if you've got to be reminded to use it now and again." They looked down and smiled a little sheepishly, though the way he said it made it sound more compliment than critique. "The problem is that anyone can take a look at a thousand-dollar 'wanted' poster and suddenly decide they're a bounty hunter. They try to be heroes.”

"I don't suppose a lot of bravado does you much good out here."

"Oh, no, it can. You need to be tougher in the face of some damn tough criminals. Another reason I think you'll be good to have around." He was grinning. "But the people who come in guns blazing are also the ones who turn tail the quickest when things get to be too much for them."

"You won't have that problem with me, sir."

"No, I don't think I will. I've known you long enough to know you're here because you want to put things right. I think you and I could do that back at home, too."

"It needs it. Goldcliff's broken, if you ask me."

"Hey, now, that's my town you're talking about."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean it that way. It's just I've seen so many people there try to cheat and hustle and steal ever since I came there, and now this...murdering a man on his own doorstep in the middle of the afternoon." They shook their head. "I can't stand it."

"You don't have to. You can help stop it if you want."

"I do. And I think I'll have a much better chance of doing it with you and the law. No more of me challenging cheaters to tavern fights to sort them out," they said with a small laugh. "Thank you again, by the way, for letting me come out here with you."

He nodded before turning to address the whole group. "We're about to enter the canyon. Be careful how you go, now. It echoes in there."

Their heart began to bounce inside their chest as they thought of facing their quarry. Their horse sped up to a trot.

“Hurley.”

They looked behind them to find a stern-faced Bane and a posse that had stopped moving altogether. Trying to swallow down the blush working up their face, they got back in line behind Bane.

The four moved single-file as they made their way downward. By the time they reached the bottom, there was still no activity, not so much as a lizard skittering through the grit on the ground. Quiet filled up the gaps between the stone walls, washed over them like the long-dead rivers that had once carved out these canyons. All they could hear was the clacking of the horses' footfalls, thrown back at them louder.

At various points, Bane sometimes whispered, more often simply signalled with his hands for one of them to break off and explore another path. They would return empty-handed.

Now, Bane held up a hand for them all to stop. Hurley heard, then, just for a moment, the sound of hoofbeats that belonged to none of their rides. With the way sound played off the stone, they couldn’t determine how far it was.

It kept coming as none of them moved, noise bouncing and skipping off the walls like a mockery. Sometimes distant, sometimes nearer, sometimes seemingly next to their ears. The canyon was sinuous and full of unexpected branches and side-paths. They tried to pinpoint the source of the noises that seemed to come from everywhere, from out of the ether.

Or they did until a resounding bang interrupted. It made a couple of the horses spook and rear as it blasted apart the near-silence. This time, it wasn't hard to tell that it came directly from behind.

Everyone else turned to see Barbra holding the smoking gun, looking more shocked than anyone.

"For fuck's sake, Barb," Lil' Jerry muttered.

And then a flash of dark around a corner.

Their galloping set the whole place rumbling as they all shot off. Hurley’s horse nearly skittered on the sand several times as they whipped the reins sharply to the side. It was what was necessary to wind through the narrow passages that curled deeper and deeper into the canyon.

Whenever there was a widening of the path that might allow more than one horse through at a time, Hurley tried to shove past the others. They had to be up front. They could barely see anything past Bane, leading at the front and shouting things they couldn’t hear.

He grabbed his lasso as they came around one bend. There was nothing on his face except the same solid determination as usual, only sharpened.

The posse pulled around the corner and came to an instant halt, scraping hooves stirring sand. Hurley craned their neck to see the dead end at the end of this passage, a sheer wall of redstone. But no Raven.

Not until there was sound well behind the whole group as the dark form reappeared and shot off in the other direction.

"Dammit," he spat as he yanked the reins back hard and turned his horse around. "Stay together!"

Hurley kept pace with the rest of the group, until they didn't. By degrees, they drew their horse back into a canter, then a slow trot. As expected, the others were too fixated on their path to notice that they were losing Hurley, as they leaned low over the manes of their galloping animals. The posse twisted around a sharp corner and out of their sight.

You're thinking with your belly again, they heard their mother say, while she poked the round ball of their seven-year-old tummy.

None of them were about to outpace the Raven while she stayed three turns ahead of them. She knew the canyon, maybe so well that she knew where her pursuers were just by hearing the echo of them along the red stone walls. But if just one of them could out-maneuver...

They bid their horse to turn around and move at a quiet walk. This was not a betrayal of Bane's orders, they convinced themself. Not really, anyway. Maybe he had told them to keep up with the group, but surely the higher order was to find the thief. If they did that, he could forgive the unconventional methods.

And they would do it.

They started to pick their way through the tangle of paths. The Raven had traveled back this way, running in front of the posse, only to disappear around a bend and re-emerge behind them all. This, perhaps, was where a number of the narrow natural trails converged. They might part only to circle back and rejoin each other elsewhere. If that were true, she would be likely to stay near the place where she had a number of exit routes. This was where she expected she'd be safe.

They chose their directions nearly at random, only knowing that they wanted to roughly parallel the path that their team had been taking before. They could meet up with them and maybe head the Raven off, if they could only keep track of where the others might be. They went left, left again, right. When they reached a slot-like passage in the rock face too narrow for a horse, they bit their lip, then dismounted and left the gelding behind as they sidled sideways through.

Occasionally, the others' calls and the pounding of their horses' hooves would come to Hurley, and they would stop to hear more. By then, though, the echoes would have already receded. They still had no way of knowing where the source of the sounds could be found--they got bounced around and lost in the network of paths until they seemed entirely disembodied. They might as well have been the chattering of specters wafting their way through the cavernous, lonely canyon. Right, left. No route here was distinct from the rest. For all they knew, they were wearing circles into the sand.

Right, right again, and then, suddenly, no further. They pulled themself back behind a boulder and instinctively clapped a hand over their mouth. It was some time before they were able to make themself crane their neck back around, to determine whether they had seen what they'd thought they'd seen.

From behind, they saw a figure sitting atop her steed. Long black duster turned sepia by the caked-on dust of the desert and a wide-brimmed, jet bolero with a sharp feather sticking up straight from the hatband. She was still. Just waiting.

Their mouth felt dry. At some point, they realized that it was gaping open, and they snapped it shut. The clack of their teeth sounded far too loud in their mouth.

They took a single step around the large stone that they hid behind. The half-elf's ears swiveled around and moved to pick up on sound. They seemed to fixate on nothing, though. Certainly, she didn't look Hurley's way as they gripped the long rope and positioned it in their hands. Their every movement was measured now. With every scrape of the rough hemp coil against their fingers, they felt certain that she would turn around, but she didn't. Another step, placed on the ground deliberately. The sand did not crunch beneath them.

From where they stood behind the boulder, they did not have a clear shot at her, but they did not dare step out fully into the open. They could still get her, though. They would still get her. It probably should have been fear that sent the eager blood blazing through them--the fear that she would see them and be gone in an instant, the fear that they would be gone in an instant when she spun to blow them away--but that wasn't it. This was the familiar thrill of the final blow and the bullseye. It ran through them whenever they knew they were about to prove what they could do. They clenched their lasso as the world shrunk to what was right in front of them. What was right in front of them was an opportunity.

They threw. The Raven had a half-second to look at the loop that had snapped tight around her ankle before Hurley pulled with all they could, and down she went to the ground. When she impacted, it was with a choked noise that might have been a yell, had the wind not been punched out of her lungs.

They almost wanted to cheer as her horse spooked and ran off.

But then they turned to look at just what it was they had caught. The figure at the end of their tether lay on her back for several moments, unmoving. For a moment, they wondered if she had been stunned by a blow to the head. They saw that, certainly, she was still hurting from the way her spine had slammed into the baked-hard earth. Low, creaking groans came from the back of her throat along with her exhales.

Suddenly, as though startled awake, her eyes snapped wide open to the sky. She scrambled to push herself onto her elbows and look at the place where her ride had been, then spun her whole body around to face Hurley.

There was a bandana tied around her face, black and patterned with feathers, puffing out slightly with every breath. It covered up everything except her eyes, but the eyes were enough. Now unshielded by the hat that had fallen from her head, they snatched Hurley's gaze and held it tight. They were big, for one thing, and youthful, with the cool-toned brown skin around them unlined. What hit them, though, was how they went wide and got wider, caught bare and off-guard. Like they took in everything and understood none of it. Disbelief at being brought down so far and so fast.

They matched her gaze. They might have been smiling. Hurley liked making people believe they could do things previously thought impossible.

The Raven's eyes flitted down to the rope around her foot twice, the first time almost as an afterthought, the second with a look of mounting rage, and it occurred to Hurley just then that they had not really restrained her much at all. They tightened their grip on the lasso just as she went to stand and yanked so that she could not get her footing. She fell back onto her butt with an indignant grunt and tried again. They pulled again, becoming more aware all the while that they were just bringing her closer to them.

That was when the sound returned to them like rocks tumbling over each other. Both they and the Raven turned just in time to see Barbra and Jerry come riding up, and for possibly the first time ever, Hurley was relieved to see them both. It was just seconds before each of them tossed a rope around her torso and pinned her arms to her sides. She squirmed against the bonds for a few moments and then went still, glaring between the three of them there. That was that.

A fine thread of blood had begun to trickle out from beneath her hairline, barely skirting her eye, where she could not wipe it away. It ran all the way down to her neck. Hurley's doing. They were about to step forward when they felt a large hand press down on their shoulder.

"So you lost us a horse, it seems."

Hurley looked up in surprise, but Bane had a warm grin for them, the kind that let a person in on a joke. They smiled back, probably more broadly than they strictly needed to. "Still glad you brought me along?"

"Well, had you been a little worse at this job than I thought you'd be, you would've gone off and done something stupid and not gotten anywhere." He gave them a couple of firm pats. "But turns out, you're just as good as I thought you'd be. Better, considering you got the Raven on your first try."

"I wasn't expecting it either," they laughed.

He chuckled lightly, and then they watched him turn his attention to the captive in front of him. Barbra had her by the back of her collar and had already pulled her up to her knees. A bit of her hair was caught in his fist.

"She's younger than I thought," Hurley commented.

He gave the thief an assessing look. "Not more than a year or two younger than you, I'd say. I don't see outlaws too much older than this, quite frankly. They tend to live fast and die faster."

"I guess so," they mumbled mostly to themself as they watched Bane walk over to her. The boys weren't easing up on the lassos, and already her breathing was shallower as her chest tried to expand against the rope.

He didn't tell them off for it, though. Instead he stepped close to her so that the tips of his boots nearly touched her knees. He cast her into shadow as he stood over her, making her lean back in order to match his gaze. Then, with a forefinger and thumb, he gripped the mask around her face and pulled it down in one motion. They saw all of her hard countenance now. A pale scar ran over the bridge of her nose, another down across her lips in a perfect vertical.

With the same hand that had felt warm and strong on Hurley's shoulder a moment ago, he suddenly grabbed her jaw. His fingers pressed into the skin of her cheek, his thumb dug into the bone beneath her ear. They released a minute gasp. They could see it from where they stood, how he kept squeezing as though to wring something out of her, which perhaps he did when her mouth was forced open a bit.

"So that's what you look like," he said coolly. "You'll really get your picture in all the papers now, isn't that right?"

Her expression stayed hard and solid as stone. Her lower jaw was gritted and jutted. Hurley didn't know how she wasn't even trying to pull away. How she stood it rather than trying to whip her head out of his grasp. That was what they would have done, they thought.

"Bind her hands and arms both." He dropped his hand, finally. "And make sure those knots are damn tight. She's been known to try sneaking off."

This was the only time she fought, really. Jerry came up behind her, and she glanced backwards, gritted her teeth, got one of her feet underneath her and tried to stand before being shoved back to the ground. Bane was over there and assisting before it even occurred to Hurley that they might help their posse. A hand on her bent back, right at the vertebra where the neck met the spine. She kept struggling as her arms were crossed behind her, with each wrist bound against the opposite elbow. It was only when Barbra pulled back on the rope hard enough to make her wince that she stopped. That left her leaning over a little. Her chest and the muscles of her belly worked hard on every rasping inhale. Her breathing stayed heavy and open-mouthed when she was half-pulled and half-kicked to her feet and started walking behind the horses as they moved in the direction of their base camp.

Hurley walked too, though Bane offered more than once to let them ride on his horse while he walked awhile. On the way, they kept turning back to look. The Raven just went and went. She drove her gaze into the ground like a plough and hardly moved or lifted it, except to glare when she felt an extra tug on the ropes around her torso. Other than that, she looked almost listless. Concussed, maybe, they thought. But she wasn't uncoordinated or struggling to focus. She simply didn't react.

It wasn't until they got back to their base camp that she showed some resistance. Hurley saw as she finally picked her head up and watched while Barbra opened the padlocked back door to the wagon, with its couple of small, square, barred windows. She hesitated before the wide dark opening, tried to take a couple steps back even as she was pulled forward. But it didn't matter. Barbra yanked and Lil' Jerry shoved and Hurley saw her look backward over the boys' heads, at something far away, before the door closed and locked on her again.

They stared for a bit longer before shaking their head. "I can go untie her for you while she's in there, Sheriff--"

"No," he said even as they started stepping forward. "It'll be good for tiring her out a bit if she stays like that for awhile."

"But that's dangerous," they responded without waiting a beat.

"It's only for a few hours, Hurley. It won't hurt anything."

They tried to keep from gaping at him. "It'll definitely hurt. It probably hurts now."

There was a force and urgency in their voice that they heard too late. He half-turned his head towards them, just enough that they could see the widening of his eye and the raising of his brow. "Hurley, you caught an outlaw on your first go, and that's to be commended, but you're still new to all of this. I've been here plenty of times. Trust me when I say I know what to do here." He nodded towards said outlaw, now unseen behind the door. "You suppose we were too rough?"

"I..." They bit the inside of their cheek. Hurley was included in that "we." Only one of them among the group, after all, had made the Raven bleed. "I just think we shouldn't do anything unnecessary."

"And I agree," he said almost somberly. "I try not to, unlike some people. If another group of bounty hunters had gotten her, she likely would've been beaten by now. That's if they bothered trying to bring her back alive at all."

They shivered a little. The cold here came on fast in the evenings.

"I call them one-person juries, people that just go out to kill or punish. It's a sorry state of affairs. She's lucky." He said it as though the sentence were a conversation ender.

It wasn't, in their mind. They weren't convinced that this got a pass just because other posses were far worse, and they were about to tell him as much, but only got as far as saying, "But, Sheriff--" before he brought them to a halt again.

"Hurley," he said. The word was a quiet warning. "Let yourself learn first."

They stared at him even after he turned around to walk away. For a long time, they stood dumbly and watched his back as he strode back towards the fire pit.

Again, this was not disobedience, they told themself as they covertly unlocked the wagon door while the others ate dinner a ways off. Bane said he wanted to bring his prisoners back alive? Then they were going to make sure this one stayed alive, whether he liked it or not.

The late amber light struggled in through the tiny windows, getting caught up in the smoky dust that rose from the floor. It was just bright enough to see the way the Raven lifted her hanging head, letting the long black hair fall away from where it covered her cheek. Without turning their way, she let her gaze slice across them.

After far too long of a pause, they opened with, "Hello," since it seemed like as good an introduction as any.

Behind the airtight line of her mouth, they could tell, her teeth were gritted. They could almost hear the scrape of them.

"That looks uncomfortable," they continued, stepping forward, because the alternative was going backwards, which they never did. "I'll get those ropes off of you if you'll let me."

They kept coming towards her until they saw her pulling her leg back slowly, winding up for a kick. "Hey. Easy." They took another small step forward, still out of her strike range. Their voice did not rise above a murmur. "Easy. There's no catch here, I promise. I'm still going to have to chain your ankles, but I'll untie you so you can move around. You just have to let me, please."

When they kept walking forward, nothing in her changed, including the intensity of her glare. But she didn't seem primed to kick them anymore either, which was good enough for them.

She tracked their every motion, twisting her neck around to look at them over her shoulder as they went to undo the knots at her wrists. When their fingers brushed hers, she flinched, curled her hands up into fists. But they didn't miss the long sigh and slumping of her shoulders when the bonds fell away, the way her eyes shut slowly.

They moved so that they were back in front of her and saw, without a moment to spare, the way she eyed the key to the cuffs that had just been locked around her legs. They pulled back the hand that held it just as she swiped at it, catching only the air. Well, that escape attempt had taken all of thirty seconds for her to concoct. The three-day journey back to Goldcliff would be exciting.

"Nice try," they commented. They dropped the key into their breast pocket and reached for their canteen. "Do you want water?"

She looked at it like it was the first she had ever seen. When they held it out a little further to her, though, she brought her gaze back to them and kept it there. It didn't move away even as she took the metal container from them and unscrewed the cap. They thought, finally, that they saw something else other than the bitterness in her, even if it wasn't gone. Her head was angled curiously, to eye them as though she were looking through a keyhole.

"I'm Hurley, by the way. I know you didn't ask, which was a bit rude, but I thought if you needed--"

"It's not going to work."

They stopped. In an instant, her lips had become stretched thin into a tight smile. It stayed unchanged on her face even as Hurley searched it for answers. She didn't open her mouth, but still she laughed a low, heavy laugh, dredged up like phlegm.

"What's not going to wo--"

She held up a finger to halt them as she brought up their canteen to her mouth and tipped her entire head back. They lost count of how many swallows she took, but they did wonder whether she was remembering to breathe. Finally, she pulled it away with a loud, refreshed exhale and tossed it back into their lap, half as heavy. "You," she began, casually wiping her mouth, "are trying to make this easier on yourself. You think if you throw me a bone or two I'll be docile and not give you any trouble while you're dragging me off to prison. Well, go fuck yourself, little Red." She dragged out the last sentence like she had all day to say it. Her voice had a sing-song tilt like a head rocking from side to side, slathered in mock sweetness.

They stayed sitting on their butt in front of her. Well. In all fairness, they didn't really know what else they should have expected. They ran a hand through the short puff of almost-auburn curls on the top of their head, of which they were suddenly quite conscious. "Fine, I'll go fuck myself," they mumbled. There was no truth to what she said, but they doubted there was any way to convince her of that. "Can I at least have your name, since I gave you mine? Though it seems like you forgot it already."

"My name is whatever you think it is, Red."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What have you heard me called? The Raven, I'm sure." She gave them a curl of her lips that was a smirk and a sneer and a snarl all at once. "What else?"

They matched her hard stare. "They call you Black Devil," they answered quietly.

She looked amused, but not surprised.

"You seem pretty nonchalant about all this."

"What? Getting harassed by people like you? Yeah, you could say I'm used to it."

They had to almost chuckle at that. "Harassment seems like a stretch. What did you expect anyway? You think people will just ignore the murder of an innocent man and an unbroken streak of robberies stretching from one end of the territory clear to the other? That's not the kind of thing you get away with forever. If not us, some other posse would've--"

"What did you say?"

For the second time, she brought them to a stop. While they had been speaking, the Raven had been staring at the spot of floor between her chained feet with slowly widening eyes. Her expression had gradually eroded into perplexion, her furrowed brow loosening into surprise. Now she turned to face Hurley directly.

They found their voice again. "What do you mean?"

"About the murder."

Her bewilderment was genuine. Hurley could not see how it could have been otherwise, with the way that she blinked fast, as though trying to clear her vision of sleep in the morning. But she should have known, at least, that the murder conviction was a possibility. "I said we can't just ignore it."

"Who..." The word came out cracked as her parched lips. She cleared her throat, then. She swallowed her spit and seemed to pull something back inside herself along with it, something that she had let spill out by accident. Her eyes didn't look quite so wild, even as she breathed more quickly. "So who do they say I killed?"

She hadn't a goddamn clue.

"Bank teller. A Mr. Miles Abernathy, from the First Bank of Goldcliff. He was killed during the burglary. A whole bunch of witnesses spotted someone with your description running from the place." They weren't sure if the last sentence was to inform the Raven or to give themself a reminder. "You don't remem--you didn't know?"

"Didn't hear that, no." She had been nodding along as they spoke, as though she were still learning how to nod.

"So you didn't do it?"

She acted as if she hadn't heard.

"Well..." They grasped at anything. "Well, if you didn't do it, that'll come out in the trial."

That brought her back, seemingly, to herself. Her eyes went cold and narrow again, squinting at more than seeing what was before her. "Get out," she muttered, not looking their way.

#hurloane #taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #the zone cast #taz fanfic #hurley #sloane #the wanted #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #western au

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ganglylimbs · 4 years

Text

That Sweet Spring Heat

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou/Eijirou Kirishima

Summary: Spring had just begun to fully bloom, the air warming and flowers just starting to bud, when Kirishima Eijirou loses his goddamn mind and Bakugou Katsuki is not having it.

Warnings: Hybrid au, smut, breeding kink, no mpreg, dirty talk, cat hybrid Bakugou, dog hybrid Kirishima, lingerie, strength kink, slight feminization, bottom Bakugou, top Kirishima

Notes: A little more information than you need but the breeds of hybrids are:

Kirishima- A mutt (German Shepard/Rottweiler mixed with some lab blood) Bakugou- Purebred Dragon Li Cat (seriously, read the description for them. It fits him perfectly. Just more blond)

They don't show up a lot but I thought about this au for a bit so for the others: Urakara- A Shiba Inu (because they are round bois) Momo- Japanese Crane (her family seems very elegant and traditional and cranes seem very traditionally Japanese to me) Sero- Spider (because him shooting out tape reminds me about spiders shooting out silk) Ashido- Komodo Dragon (Basically my brain went, she has horns, they remind me of lizards, Komodo dragons are dangerous, she's dangerous, we have a match) Midoriya- Fuzzy Lop Rabbits (listen, I love all the fan art I see of rabbit Deku and his mask really does look like rabbit ears) Kaminari- Field Mouse (listen, I will not give up this headcanon) The two random OCs- Black Horn Sheep

Spring had just begun to fully bloom, the air warming and flowers just starting to bud, when Kirishima Eijirou loses his goddamn mind and Bakugou Katsuki is not having it.

Bakugou's blond fluffy ears lay flat on his hair, a vein popping along his forehead, his sleek tail flicking back and forth. His arms are crossed over his chest, staring down at his stupid ass boyfriend.

Kirishima stares back with bright eyes, a clueless grin on his lips as his large red tail thumps against the bed, ears perked. His full attention is on Bakugou.

They continue their staring contest for a full minute, in which Bakugou's scowl deepens and deepens.

Finally, he snaps. "Alright, you fuck, what’s up?"

Kirishima raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Bakugou throws his hands out, gesturing at all of him. "You! What's going on in that fucking brain of yours?"

Kirishima's tail slows down in its wagging, just a bit. "Ah, Bakugou, don’t be rude, man. I thought we were having fun." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"That’s not the point mutt-for-brains. You’ve been acting weird and I want to know why.”Bakugou's hands crackle and spark, a clear warning sign.

The effect is slightly weakened by the fact that they are both naked, Bakugou straddling Kirishima's hips, and Bakugou's thighs stained in Kirishima's cum.

Kirishima, because he's a goddamn idiot, ignores the warning explosions, his lightly hardened hands scratching at the skin of Bakugou's waist. He just tilts his head. "Babe, I really don't know what you mean."

Bakugou snarls. "Fine. Keep being weird." Then he climbs off that thick waist, stomping out of the room, Kirishima calling after him.

If Bakugou thinks about it, this whatever the hell is wrong with Kirishima started about a month ago, after one of the charity events their agency had set up.

Bakugou hadn't really been that interested in any of the interviews or journalists trying to catch his attention, no doubt most of them hoping that Ground Zero will give them some drama to report on. Instead, he had left that for the heroes like Red Riot and Deku and Alien Queen to handle.

He had chosen to focus more on why they are here. Children had been laughing and screaming and playing all around him, other heroes had been chasing after them or sitting to draw. He had seen Uravity throwing kids up in the air, letting them float for a bit before releasing and catching them. Creati had been making toys, laughing at the increasingly extravagant demands, her large white wings spreading out behind her in excitement. Cellophane had allowed himself to be strung up by his own tape, kids dancing around him.

A hand had yanked on one of his black sleeves, making him look down. A little girl, with wild curly black hair and narrowed brown eyes had frowned back at him. Two small horns peek through her mane and a small tail swished behind her, betraying her nerves.

He had knelt down, coming face to face with her, ears turning straight forward to show she had his full attention. "What do you need, squirt?"

Her eyes had narrowed even more. "My names not squirt ."

"Sure it isn't, squirt. Now, what are you bothering me for?"

She huffed and held up two wooden swords. "I want to play Pirates but none of the other kids want to play with me. They say I'm too rough."

Bakugou had given her a rueful grin. "Yeah? Well fu-frick them. I'll take you on."

She had gaped at him. "Really?"

Bakugou had snatched one of the wooden swords and stood to his full height. "Do you think you can take Ground Zero?"

She stared for a moment and then she had grinned, showing off her teeth. "Yeah!" Then she striked forward.

His sword had swept down to meet hers, making a wooden clack sound, and the two are off. They go back and forth, running all around the field, gaining and losing ground in waves.

When the girl is left panting, her dress covered in dirt and grass stains, Bakugou had finally allowed himself to be knocked to the ground.

She had taken the chance and had stabbed him in the stomach.

Bakugou had hissed and then his body relaxed against the ground. "Damn, ok, you got me, you got me. I give."

She giggled, before pointing her sword in the air, the other hand on her hip. "I did it! I defeated Ground Zero."

Bakugou chuckled, before grabbing her and bringing her close to lick at the dirt on her face, grooming her. "Yeah, yeah, squirt."

She smacks him with the sword, squirming. "Hey," he had said, letting her go.

She frowned down at him, putting her hands on her hips. "My name's not squirt . I won didn't I?"

He gave her a small smile. "Yeah, you did. You deserve more respect don't ya? So, do I get the honor of knowing who has beaten me?"

Her chest puffed out. "My name is-"

" Doi ."

Both of them had turned to see a harried-looking man jogging up to them. Kirishima right behind him a small frown on his face.

The girl, Doi Bakugou assumed, dropped her sword and had bite the bottom of her lip. Bakugou sat up, warily watching as the two approaches.

The man came to a stop right before them, huffing. "What did I tell you about being so forceful?" He turned to Bakuoug, bowing so low his curly horns almost touch his knees. "I'm sorry if she hurt you, sometimes she forgets her own strength-"

"It's fine," Bakugou interrupted, standing up and brushing the dirt off his costume. His tail lazily swayed behind him. "We were just having some fun."

The man had still looked unsure. Doi had been quiet, but she's had looked up at Bakugou now. "Are you really ok? I know she can-"

Bakugou waved off his apologies. "Yeah, of course. I'm a hero, aren't I? I can handle a little roughness. Besides, you have a great sword handler here." He made sure to catch Doi's eyes. "I hope you continue to work on them. You would make a good hero one day."

Her eyes had gone wide. "Do you really think so?"

"Of course," Bakugou had sniffed. "I never say anything I don't mean." Then he gave her a sharp smirk, hand ruffling through her hair. "Squirt."

"Hey!" She had gone to kick him, her father panicking again.

Bakugou had just laughed, ruffling her hair again. "Come back next year and show me how much you've improved."

"I will," she had promised. Then she had puffed out her chest. "And when I win again, you have to use my name."

"Promise."

Bakugou had watched the two of them go, Doi excitedly replaying all of their fight for her dad, who nervously smiled at her but a lot more relaxed than when he had first appeared.

He had turned to say something to Kirishima but is stopped short. Kirishima had been staring at him, eyes heavy and lidded with something that made Bakugou's throat go dry.

Then Kirishima blinked and he's back to normal, big goofy grin in place, his floppy ears bouncing as he walked forward to throw an arm over Bakugou's shoulder, bringing him closer. "Did you have fun, babe?"

Bakugou had grunt, side-eyeing him, not sure what that had been all about but not willing to let it ruin his good mood. "Sure."

Kirishima had just laughed and then they were swarmed by reporters and didn't have much of a chance to talk after that.

It's not that Bakugou is exactly bothered by what is happening. Kirishima has always been touchy, even before they started dating. He has wandering hands, that love to grope and grab at Bakugou and it's often Bakugou that has to remind him that they're in public, you idiot.

So he isn't bothered by the fact that, for the past month, Kirishima has been manhandling him more often, pushing and pulling him into positions or trying to bend him over their furniture. He isn't bothered by the fact that Kirishima will come up behind him, arms around his waist, as he presses kisses into his sensitive neck.

What is unusual is that Kirishima has taken to curving his large hands around Bakugou's stomach, his eyes unable to look away as he fucks his way inside Bakugou's willing body. He's a bit confused why Kirishima has become extra invested in his nipples, why he keeps calling them "tits", or why he sucks at them as if hoping milk will come out.

It's also pretty fucking weird that Kirishima has become insatiable these past few weeks.

Kirishima has always had a higher sex drive than Bakugou. It's worked for them so far. If Bakugou isn't up to it, Kirishima is more than fine with his hand.

But lately, Kirishima has become really, really insistent, grinding against Bakugou's ass or surprising him in the shower to finger him open. Bakugou has sat on Kirishima's knot more times than he can count, has milked Kirishima for all he's worth as the dog hybrid pinches his nipples and leaves bite marks on his shoulder.

In essence, Kirishima has become a bit sex-crazy and Bakugou just wants to know why. It can't be because it's mating season. Kirishima has never acted like this before. Something had to have set him off and Bakugou is going to get to the bottom of it.

By this point, Bakugou is ready when Kirishima comes sniffing around, his big bulky frame covering Bakugou's as he starts kissing at his neck, hand already gripping his hips.

Bakugou allows him for a few seconds, before turning his head, dislodging Kirishima's lips.

Kirishima whines, low in his throat, but Bakugou ignores him. "You can have what you want when you explain what's got you so riled up."

Kirishima huffs, giving him a squeeze. "Not this again. There isn't anything wrong."

Bakugou hums, before dislodging himself. His hips sway as he leaves the room, tail curling invitingly, and he throws a look over his shoulder. "Then I guess you'll just have to do without."

Kirishima watches him leave.

Kirishima tries two more times, only to be brushed off. Bakugou wakes up later that night to Kirishima panting in his ear and grinding against his ass.

Kirishima goes to sleep on the couch.

Honestly, Bakugou thought that it would just take two days before Kirishima gave in. The horny idiot could never hold out whenever they play this game, often too impatient to get to the good stuff.

So he's a bit surprised when, a week later, and Kirishima is still tight-lipped.

He's even more surprised when Kirishima begins to ramp up his deviant behavior.

They're on patrol, just finishing up their rounds on the 4th district when a call comes over the radio. They pause, listening to a description of suspicious activity before being told to stay put as the situation unfolds.

Bakugou had just started to grunt his agreement when he cuts off into a groan.

"I know you hate not being in on the action, Ground Zero, but this is the best plan," Ingenium says over the radio.

Bakugou can't tell him to shut up because he's too busy holding back moans.

"Yeah, Katsuki," Kirishima says, a smirk curling along his lips. "Just be a good boy and stay still."

Bakugou turns to glare at him, ears flat against his hair, face flushed. But before he can get anything out, Kirishima moves his hand again, stroking from the base of Bakugou's tail up to the tip.

Bakugou can't stop the sound that is ripped from his throat.

Kirishima's eyes dilate and then he's pushing Bakugou against the wall. He crowds in close, fingers still playing with Bakugou's tail. He leans in to whisper in Bakugou's twitching ear.

"Fuck, your mouth. It's so pretty, whether moaning for me or wrapped around my dick."

Eijirou," Bakugou stutters out, heat curling in his stomach. There was no way in hell he could stop the way his hips grind back against Kirishima.

"That's it, baby," Kirishima whispers. "Who's my pretty kitty?"

Bakugou closes his eyes and shivers. His head feels fuzzy, the sudden heat and want and the damn way Kirishima is playing with his tail makes it hard to think straight.

Kirishima leans down and nibbles on his ear, sharp teeth scraping against the soft skin, and Bakugou is gone. All thoughts of punishing Kirishima till he fesses up disappears, he just needs the mutt now and-

"Ground Zero, Red Riot, the situation has escalated. We need you."

The two jerk apart. They stare at each other, breathing hard.

Bakugou grits his teeth.

Kirishima raises his hand. "Katsuki, wait-"

He gets a face full of explosion, barely hardening in time.

"Die," Bakugou screams, face completely red and fur standing on end.

"I'm sorry!"

"Oh, you're about to be."

"Ground Zero and Red Riot, we need you! Do you copy?"

Bakugou bares his fangs, before pressing his comm. "We hear you, Four Eyes-"

"Ingenium!"

"Whatever. We're on our way."

Making sure his comm is off, Bakugou points at Kirishima. "You stay the fuck away from me."

Kirishima pouts, bringing out his literal puppy eyes. "Babe, please-"

"When we're done with this villian, I'm going to throw you through a goddamn wall." And then Bakugou points his hands down, blasting off into the sky.

The villain ends up being quickly brought down and slightly burnt thanks to an angry Ground Zero.

Bakugou is steadily ignoring Kirishima, resting up at the agency after their fight, but he does hear the way Kaminari comes up to the red giant and slaps his shoulder, no sense of self-preservation in sight.

"So, I see that you landed yourself in the dog house again, huh?"

Kirishima sighs. "Come on, man. I don't need this today."

"What? Have you been collared? Bakugou got you on a leash?"

"Kaminari, not cool, I don't make mouse puns about you."

"Um, because there are no mouse puns that aren't cool," Kaminari says. "So what has King Explosion Murder neutering you this time?"

Kirishima growls and even from where Bakugou is standing, he shivers at the threat there. "Make one more pun, I dare you."

Kaminari is silent for a minute. And then…

"You were being a horndog, weren't yo-"

Kaminari cries out as he is knocked to the ground, Kirishima standing over him with a hardened fist.

Bakugou hides a snort in his fist.

Bakugou's anger is at a shimmer the next day when Kirishima, the bastard, tries again.

They don't have any hero work for that day, just some paperwork they need to fill out about the incident they were involved in, and then they get the rest of the day off.

They decide to head to the gym afterward, splitting up for a bit as they get their individual workouts in.

Bakugou always finishes his up early, hitting the showers, before going out to spot for his boyfriend.

The cat hybrid would rather die than admit that this is actually his favorite part of their shared workouts. To be able to stare at his boyfriend unabashedly, watch those muscles bulge and work, watch his broad shoulders strain under the weights, watch as sweat glides down his body.

He might have initiated a sex ban, but that doesn't mean he can't appreciate the view.

Kirishima has moved on to the big weights, curling them as he counts, the sweat along his body letting Bakugou know that he's been there a while. He nods at Bakugou to show that he sees him before going back to lifting.

Bakugou stands a few feet away, next to the benches where he knows Kirishima will head next. He takes a long drink of water, eyes drifting up and down Kirishimia’s body and can’t help but smirk when Kirishima squats to drop the weights.

Then his eyes drift up to meet Kirishima’s in the mirror.

Kirishima’s eyes are dark and Bakugou finds himself caught in them. Kirishima licks his lips, drawing Bakugou’s eyes, before he stands back up, slowly. Bakugou gulps, but it’s too late to take back his mistake.

Kirishima has him caught, like prey.

Kirishima makes his way towards the bench, putting on his preferred weights, before beckoning Bakugou over. “You’re going to help me, aren’t you?” His voice has the start of rough edge and Bakugou holds in his shiver.

“Sure. Think you can actually beat that weak record of yours?”

Kirishima gives him a sharp smirk. “Of course.”

Then he starts to get to work. His arms are impressive as they bend and stretch, the heavyweights going up and down as if they were nothing. Bakugou’s eyes can’t help drifting to them or to the way Kirishima’s shirt scrunches up, showing off that toned stomach, and Bakugou watches for a brief second as it contracts and expands.

Kirishima clears his throat and Bakugou’s eyes jerk up to his. “You have a job to do, Katsuki. Don’t go slacking now.”

Bakugou tenses, tail twitching in agitation. “And you should be lifting. Whose slacking now?”

Kirishima grins, but continues his work out. Bakugou huffs, but focuses more on spotting. Wouldn’t want the idiot to hurt himself.

Kirishima finishes up and heads for the showers, Bakugou waiting just outside the locker room for him on his phone.

He is not at all prepared for when a hand grabs the back of his shirt and pulls him into the locker room. He twists his body around, hands sparking as they come into contact with someone.

Someone with hardened arms.

Bakugou barely has time to blink, eyes landing on red hair, before he’s being lifted up and slammed into the wall. Bakugou’s teeth clink together, but that doesn’t stop him from reaching out to grab at Kirishima’s throat.

They stop for a second, breathing hard, red eyes meeting red. Then their lips are clashing together, teeth biting at lips. Bakugou’s hands tangle in Kirishima’s hair, pulling hard. Kirishima’s hands are under his ass, squeezing, before pulling at Bakugou’s legs, helping them to wrap around his waist. Kirishima grinds down at him and Bakugou fucking groans.

“Shit, Katsuki, do you know what it does to me to see you drooling over my muscles?” Kirishima growls. “How hard it gets me that you love the fact that I could manhandle you into any position I want? I could slam you against these lockers, fuck you into your slutty body, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

They both know that’s not completely true, that Bakugou would find a way to break free if he really wanted to, but right now, all Bakugou does is moan, yanking harder at Kirishima’s hair, lost to the images Kirishima paints.

Kirishima squeezes his ass, kneading the flesh there. “My second favorite part of your body, right behind your sweet tits. I especially love when it’s bouncing on my knot.”

Bakugou whimpers. He uses Kirishima’s hair to guide his mouth up into another kiss, no less desperate or hot. He tilts his head, drawing Kirishima deeper into the kiss, before pulling back to whisper against Kirishima’s lips. “I love your knot, love when it’s plugging me up, all your cum stuffed deep inside of me-”

Kirishima groans, eyes fluttering.

“You know what I love even more?” Bakugou asks.

“What?” Kirishima responds, body leaning even closer against Bakugou, eyes drifting down to Bakugou’s throat and chest.

“If you would just tell me what has gotten into you.”

Kirishima stiffens, before slowly looking up to meet Bakugou's eyes. Bakugou raises an eyebrow. Kirishima sighs. “I’m not getting any today am I?”

Bakugou raises his palm, his hand glowing. “Nope,” he says, popping the p.

After about another week and a half of this, Bakugou is done waiting. If the usual game isn’t going to get the job done, then he’s going to have to force Kirishima to tell him.

He is going to fucking break Eijirou if it kills him.

Bakugou stretches out, humming to himself. He has two meetings he needs to go to later today, but he rarely has this time to just sit back and relax.

Of course, relaxing for him means he’s still doing something. That something being yoga out in the living room.

He slowly moves his body from position to position, enjoying the slight burn. His ears perk up at the sound of the door opening, but besides that, he ignores his boyfriend, instead focusing on shifting his legs into the next position.

“Hey, babe, I brought lunch home,” Kirishima calls from the front door, where Bakugou knows he’s taking off his shoes before moving deeper into the house. “I thought we could eat together before you have to go- ach .”

Bakugou hides his smirk, shoulders shifting as he stands up. “Hey mutt, what’d you get?” He looks over his shoulder, showing his teeth at the sight of Kirishima standing frozen in the living room doorway, bags of food dangling in his hands.

Kirishima audibly swallows. “Uh, what are you doing?”

Bakugou snorts, turning away and moving to the next position. “What does it fucking look like? Yoga.”

“Yeah, but, um-”

“What? Does the cat have your tongue?”

“You’re naked,” Kirishima moans.

Bakugou looks down, as if this is his first time noticing his lack of clothes. “Huh. So I am.”

“ Why? ”

Bakugou shrugs. “Why not?” He bends down, his forehead touching his knees. He can practically feel the burn of Kirishima’s stare on his ass. “The sun is shining pretty bright today and you know how much I love to spread myself along the window sills to soak it up.”

His voice is practically a purr and he knows exactly what he’s doing, reminding the mutt of what happened the last time he was spread in front of the window, when Kirishima had been curled up behind him, both slowly rocking as the sun had warmed their skin.

Bakugou curls his tail, beckoning Kirishima’s eyes to follow along as he works his way through his routine. He can hear the other huff and panting, the mutt probably drooling.

“You’re torturing me here, Kat,” Kirishima says, sounding strangled.

“You know what you have to do if you want a piece of this,” Bakugou says. His hands, which had been wrapped around his ankle, slowly start to slide up his leg, gliding along the smooth skin.

“There’s nothing to-”

Bakugou shrugs, before turning around, coming face to face with Kirishima. He stalks his way forward, eyes half-lidded.

Kirishima might be holding his breath. Bakugou is pretty sure he’s not breathing.

And then Bakugou passes by him, brushing his shoulder, before heading up to their room. “Then I guess we’re done here. Let’s have lunch.”

The sound of Kirishima hitting his head on the wall echoes around the house.

Bakugou doesn’t do this often-

Ok, that’s a lie. He does do this quite often, but always in the privacy of their home. Rarely does he do it in public.

But by this point, he’s willing to pull out all the stops.

They’re back on patrol, walking around the 5th and 6th district, with the hot sun beating down on them. Bakugou curses. His gauntlets are already half-filled by this point, and he hasn't even done anything.

Kirishima taps on his shoulder, pointing to a stand selling water. They go over to buy some, only to have the vendor wave off their attempts to pay, thanking them instead for the jobs they do.

They go to stand to the side, in the shade, drinking their free water. Side-eyeing Kirishima, Bakugou casually leans against the wall and then pulls on the strap of his hero suit, as if he were trying to fan himself.

Kirishima glances over.

Then he does a double-take.

“Katsuki, no,” he says, almost in horror.

Bakugou innocently blinks at him. “What? I’m just drinking.”

But Kirishima is too focused on his bared shoulder to respond.

Bakugou looks down. “Oh, you mean the bra strap, huh? Yeah, I don’t know why, but I felt like dressing up a little today.” His fingers play with the baby blue strap, snapping it against his skin.

“Did-Is it a complete set?” Kirishima asks, tail wagging behind him, ears perking up.

Bakugou smiles, wide and all teeth. “Wouldn’t you like to find out.”

“You-you’re a monster,” Kirishima says.

Bakugou chuckles, pushing off the building. He rubs his head against Kirishima’s shoulder before pulling him back on patrol. “I know.”

It continues like that for the rest of the day, with Bakugou giving Kirishima little hints and peeks of the lingerie he wears underneath.

Kirishima follows after him, like a mutt on a leash, and more than once, walks into a civilian or doorway. Bakugou sits back and laughs at the way he goes red and sputters out excuses.

When they reach the agency, they both head back to the locker rooms to get changed out of their costumes. Bakugou barely passes the threshold, before he’s being grabbed, flipped, and pressed face first against the wall.

He sends a smirk at Kirishima. “What’s with you and manhandling me in locker rooms lately?”

Kirishima growls, low in his throat. “As if you don’t deserve it. You’ve been winding me up all fucking week.”

Bakugou bares his fangs. “And you haven’t been doing the same? I told you, Eijirou, all you have to do is tell me what’s been on your mind and then you can do whatever you want to me.”

Kirishima growls again, pressing close. He noses his way through Bakugou’s hair, huffing. “...I’m afraid you’ll think I’m weird or something.”

Bakugou pauses, before turning his head to rub it against Kirishima’s. “Eijirou, you never have to be afraid to talk to me about stuff. You know that, right?”

Kirishima drops his head against Bakugou’s shoulder, large arms wrapping around his waist. “I know but it’s...thoughts getting to me. Will you think it’s too weird, will you look at me differently, that sort of stuff.”

Bakugou reaches back to start to play with his hair. “You know I love you. You could say the weirdest shit to me and, maybe I might say the wrong thing at first, but nothing could ever make me stop loving you or thinking you’re too much for me.”

Kirishima is silent for a moment, squeezing tighter and inhaling Bakugou’s scent. Bakugou continues to play with his hair, fingers brushing against his ears, scratching right behind them in that secret spot that makes Kirishima melt.

“...M’ wanna breed you,” Kirishima finally mumbles.

Bakugou furrows his eyebrows. He feels Kirishima tense behind him and is quick to scratch that spot again, forcing him to relax. “Not that I’m saying it’s bad, but you know I can’t get pregnant right?”

“I know,” Kirishima says, still muttering into his shoulder. “I just...you know that girl, Doi? That you were playing with at last month’s charity function?”

“Yeah?”

“I saw you being all sweet with her and it was like I was suddenly hit with the image of you doing that to our daughter. And then other thoughts kept rolling in my head. You, holding our child. You, feeding out child. You, round with our child. And that eventually devolved into-”

“You trying to stuff as much of your cum into me as possible?” Bakugou asks.

Kirishima’s breath hitches. He digs his claws into Bakugou’s waist. “ Yessss . It’s consumed my thoughts. At this point, I don’t really care that you can’t have children, it’s all about the trying you know? I just want you to constantly sit on my knot, warm my cock, be a tight hot little cocksleeve.”

Bakugou bites his bottom lips, face flushing. “Damn, Eijirou. And you’ve been keeping this to yourself all this time?”

Kirishima lifts his head, catching Bakugou’s eyes. “You...you like that?”

Bakugou sniffs, looking away. “I mean, you’re the one whose saying all these dirty things. Of course I’m going to find that hot.”

Kirishima grins, pressing a kiss against Bakugou’s shoulder. Then he goes to whisper directly in Bakugou’s ear. “Yeah? You like the thought of you all fucked out on our bed, spread out, your hole wet and sloppy as I force my knot back in?”

Bakugou moans, low and heated. “You going to put a liter in me, mutt? Huh, you think you can?”

Kirishima rumbles, the sound vibrating deep in his chest, and Bakugou doesn’t have time to react before Kirishima bits into his neck, leaving a large mark. Bakugou whimpers, grinding his hips back. Kirishima takes advantage of that, moving Bakugou’s waist back so he can grind on his ass.

“I know I can. Going to keep you stuffed, make your tits all fat with milk.” One of his hands reaches up to cup one of Bakugou’s pecs.

“With that weak knot of yours?” Bakugou grits out, trying hard not to fall apart as Kirishima gropes him. “Good fucking luck.”

“You challenging me?” Kirishima asks.

“What do you think?”

Their eyes meet, sparks flying between them, both of their mouths pulling back to show off their fangs.

The door opens and they jerk apart. An intern peeks their head in, whistling before coming to a halt. They stop and stare at Bakugou and Kirishima, both of their costumes wrinkled and messed up, their hair wild.

“Um,” they say.

“Get the fuck out,” Bakugou screams, hands sparking.

The intern eeps, scrambling back and out the door.

Kirishima sighs. “Bakugou-”

“Don’t you fucking start,” Bakugou snarls. He runs a hand through his hair, huffing, before catching Kirishima’s eyes again. “You want to take a half-day and get the fuck home?”

“Gods, yes.”

They burst through the bedroom door, wrapped around each other, Bakugou climbing Kirishima like a tree. They’re not really kissing, more like they’re trying to eat each other’s mouths.

Bakugou groans, pulling back. "Fuck, Eijirou." His claws dig into the skin on Kirishima's shoulder, making the other hiss.

Kirishima practically throws Bakugou down on the bed, red eyes blazing. He's quick to get himself undressed, tripping on his costume in his hurry to throw it on the ground.

Bakugou is right behind him, shimmering out of his pants, trying to peel himself out of his top too, when Kirishima grabs his ankles and yanks him down. Bakugou lets out a little sound of surprise as he slides along the bed.

Kirishima crawls over him, slow and predatory, eyes glued to the panties Bakugou is wearing. Bakugou tilts his head, spreading his legs and fingering the lacy edges. “Do you like what you see? Want to unwrap me like the present I am?”

Kirishima licks his lips, grinning. “Fuck yeah, babe. I want to see the entire picture.” He lifts one of Bakugou’s legs, kissing the side of his knee. He slowly kisses his way up Bakugou’s thigh, keeping eye contact, before biting into the meaty flesh. Bakugou’s breath catches and then Kirishima’s soothing the sting with a kiss.

He repeats the pattern a few more times, leaving marks along the way, before reaching the bulge in his panties. He spreads Bakugou’s legs wider, nuzzling the covered dick, before biting on the edge of the panties, pulling down just enough for the tip of Bakugou’s cock to slip out. Kirishima gives the tip a lick, cleaning up the precum there.

Bakugou can’t tear his eyes away, little moans being ripped from his throat. Kirishima gives him grin before backing off. “Let me open my pretty present.” His large hands wrap around Bakugou’s waist, lifting the tight fabric of his shirt up to reveal Bakugou’s abs, then even higher. Inch by inch, blue fabric is exposed for Kirishima to drink in. It’s lacy and sheer, doing nothing to hide the way Bakugou’s nipples stand erect and waiting.

Kirishima, because he can’t help himself, pinches one of the pink buds. Bakugou arches into the touch, silently begging for more. Kirishima manages to get the rest of the shirt off, also throwing it to the side, his hand never leaving Bakugou’s chest.

Bakugou throws an arm across his face, face flushed and eyes narrowed. Kirishima’s tail is wagging a mile a minute, dick hard and heavy. “Come on, you mutt, I thought you were going to breed me? Are you going to break your promise?”

That gets him another pinch, making him hiss. “So impatient, my pretty kitty. Let me enjoy the way you look before we get to the fun stuff.”

Bakugou snarls. “That’s funny coming from yo- ah fuck .”

Kirishima hums, still twisting Bakugou’s nipple before twisting it to the other side. “That’s a little better. Keep making those pretty noises for me and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

“Fuck- ah -you,” Bakugou hisses. He withers against the bed as Kirishima continues to play with his body, his other hand reaching down to give Bakugou’s cock light little stokes.

“My perfect cat, you’re going to look so good, all-round with my liter.” Kirishima leans down to give Bakugou’s stomach a chaste kiss. Bakugou wiggles.

“Eijirou, come on.”

“Someone’s needy. I haven’t even fingered you open and you’re already begging for me,” Kirishima says.

Bakugou flushes. "We've haven't had sex for nearly two damn months."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Yours."

"Hmmm, is that so?" Kirishima asks, fingers dancing along Bakugou’s inner thighs as he slowly pulls Bakugou’s panties down his legs. “I wasn’t the one who started the sex ban.”

Bakugou sneers. “Really? Who was it that kept their dirty little fantasies to themselves- fuck .” Bakguou’s body jerks as Kirishima’s fingers tap against his hole, wet with lube.

Kirishima chuckles. “You’re always so loud, babe.” He slowly pushes one finger in, wiggling it.

“Maybe, uh, maybe you’re just too fucking quiet,” Bakugou says, fingers digging into the mattress.

“Now we both know that’s a lie.” Kirishima adds another finger, scissoring. He licks his lips. “You look so delicious, spread out on my fingers. I can’t wait till it’s my knot that you’re splitting on.”

Bakugou moans, thrusting his hips down. “God damn, you’re fingers are so fucking big, Eijirou. Come on, fuck me already.”

Kirishima clicks his tongue. “Patience, Katsuki. I want you open for me, so my knot can just slide right in." He adds another finger, croaking them, pressing against that special place, and smirks as Bakugou's eyes widen.

And then he mewls.

They both still, Bakugou slapping a hand over his mouth, face twisted in horror.

"Did you just-"

"No!" Bakugou instantly denies, face going cherry red.

Kirishima can feel Bakugou's hands heating up. He moves fast, grabbing those tiny wrists in his hardened hands and slamming them on the mattress, right above Bakugou's head.

"You did," Kirishima breathes. "Do it again."

"What- no. Fuck no." Bakugou tries to thrash, but Kirishima straddles his hips, hardening his skin to make it heavier.

Kirishima leans in close, till their noses are almost touching. "I'm going to make you make that sound again, Katsuki."

Bakugou shudders, but he refuses to back down. "Is that a challenge?"

Before he can blink, he's being flipped over, arms pulled behind his back, chest and face pressed into the mattress, ass raised up. Kirishima palms his ass, a light touch, before giving it an echoing smack. Bakugou gasps, going still.

"That's a promise," Kirishima whispers directly into his ear. He gives the fluffy appendage a bite, two fingers shoving their way back inside, searching for Bakugou's prostate.

He knows he finds it when Bakugou's body jerks, Bakugou moaning low and long. But it's not the sound Kirishima wants. So he continues to press his fingers against it, milking Bakugou.

Bakugou is squirming, but with Kirishima's large body covering his and those hardened hands keeping his wrists pinned, there's nowhere for Bakugou to go.

Every time he moves, it just forces his hips back down on those thick fingers. It makes his cock throb, precum dripping freely. He whines, throwing his head back. "Eijirou."

Kirishima kisses his sweaty forehead. "Come on, Katsuki. You know what I want."

Bakugou shakes his head, ears twitching, tail curling and unfurling around Kirishima's wrist. "N-No."

Kirishima tisks, squeezing a third finger in, jabbing it against his prostate. Bakugou's eyes widen, mouth falling open. He pants, hole twitching.

"My pretty kitty, won't you make your sweet noises for me?" Kirishima continues to whisper in his ear.

"It's embarrassing," Bakugou practically yowls, hiding his face in his arms.

"Not if it's with me," Kirishima says, stopping momentarily. He nuzzles Bakugou's hair. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about if it's just me here, right?"

Bakugou bites his bottom lip. Kirishima doesn't move, allowing Bakugou time to think.

Finally, Bakugou sighs. Then, almost too soft to hear, he mewls.

Kirishima's grin splits his face. He kisses Bakugou again and starts moving his fingers. "Good boy, that's so lovely, yes please keep making those noises." He spreads his fingers. "Louder, kitty cat, louder."

Bakugou is shuddering, body beyond hot, as Kirishima fucks him open. His sounds of pleasure increase in volume, Kirishima encouraging him along the way.

It doesn't take long at all before he's coming against the bed, Kirishima's fingers still moving. He pants, little shivers of aftershock rocking through him.

When he comes back to himself, it's to the feeling of Kirishima rubbing his cock against his ass. He lazily grinds back. "Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you?" He mumbles. "I thought you were going to breed me?"

Kirishima bites into his shoulder, making Bakugou hiss. "If you can talk again, then I guess that means you're ready to be fucked."

Bakugou lifts his hips up, moving his tail out of the way to show off his stretched hole. "Come on Eijirou, fuck a litter into me."

Kirishima growls, low and heated. His cock presses against Bakugou's hole, sheathing himself inside that hot, wet heat. Bakugou cries out, the sound almost lost in the howl Kirishima let's out.

Kirishima wastes no time as he starts to thrust, hard and fast into Bakugou, hips slapping against his ass.

Bakugou whines, his moans being punched out of him with each thrust. Kirishima let's go of his wrists, his hand trailing down Bakugou's body to curl around his stomach.

"Can't wait to see you all fat with my seed. I'm going to make you sit on my knot all through your pregnancy."

"I want it, please Eijirou, please. Knot me, knot me."

"You're going to get your knot, patience." Kirishima brings Bakugou's hips up higher, so he can fuck into him deeper, his cock now slamming against Bakugou's prostate.

Bakugou is back to mewling, his cock growing hard again. He tears up the sheets, thrusting back against Kirishima. He can feel that fat knot bumping up against him, desperately trying to slip inside.

With every slam, Kirishima's knot spreads Bakugou open just a bit further, goes in just a bit deeper. Bakugou mewls and yowls through it, begging Kirishima with every other breath. His cock is fully hard by now, almost painfully so.

With one last, hard thrust, Kirishima pushes his knot fully in, locking them together. He snarls, biting into Bakugou's shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. One hand moves from his grip on Bakugou's waist to his cock, stroking him rough and fast.

Bakugou's eyes roll into his head, body going stiff. His orgasm is ripped out of him, joining his other release on the bed. He can feel warmth rushing into him as Kirishima cums, still slightly rolling his hips as Bakugou's hole milks him.

They stay like that for a minute or two, and then they collapse into the bed, boneless.

Kirishima turns them to the side, wiggling till they were in a more comfortable position as they wait for Kirishima's knot to deflate. Kirishima continues to pet and stroke Bakugou, singing him praises.

Bakugou shifts back slightly, settling into Kirishima's chest, hands drifting down to rest on his stomach. "So," he says after a moment. "Should we start looking at adoption agencies?"

Kirishima chokes.

#kiribaku #katsuki bakugou #eijirou kirishima #smuttish #hybrid au

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cd-stories · 4 years

Text

A Year with Aunt Rose

I was about to graduate from grade school, 14 years old and ready to conquer the world. Mom and Dad said I had an attitude problem. I saw it as more of an expression of independence. Well, they were going to Europe for a year because of Dad’s job and I was to stay with Aunt Rose. She was my father’s sister and had bankrolled his import business. He pretty much did things her way or not at all even though he was president of the company. I rather saw that as whimping out on his part but he was my dad and I had to respect that and all the money he made anyway.

As soon as I was free the 5th of June, Mom and Dad were off to New York and London and who knows where else. Well, that was fine with me. I could use a break from parental supervision. I was a dyed in the wool slob and enjoyed it immensely. You know, sneakers, hole in the knee jeans, tee shirt, long, dirty hair, the hoop earring in the left ear, the usual. Aunt Rose was pretty bossy though and I admit that I was a little afraid of her too. She was sufficiently larger than I was so she could probably put a hurt on me. She seemed kind enough when I was dropped off at her place though. I think that may have just been to fake me out though.

The first clue that I got that things were going to be different for me with Aunt Rose was that she was a neat freak. Everything had to be just so. Everything in it’s place and a place for everything. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t follow that rule very well. I mean, after all, just look at me. It seems I just couldn’t leave anything alone or put it back where it came from and that bugged Aunt Rose something awful. She said, “I’m afraid we are going to have to teach you how to be a little neater about things Keenan.” “Whatever! Give it your best shot Aunt Rose.” Not that I was flippant or anything!

July 4th: She said since I was so messy that I would have to learn to clean up around the house and gain an appreciation for what ‘clean’ and ‘orderly’ meant. OK. I cleaned. I didn’t like it but I did it. I learned with corrections at every turn how to dust and run the vacuum and wash windows without streaking them. The worst part was the bathrooms. I hated getting down and cleaning the bowls but Aunt Rose was one of those ‘spotless’ people and there was only one right way to do things, HER way. I admit there was a certain degree of pride to be taken in a job well done. The reason I noticed was that I guess I never really did anything really well before, especially school, but I learned how to clean house really well. The only problem with that was that she made me wear a frilly pinafore apron while I was doing all my housework and any time I had my hands in water, she made me wear rubber gloves “so you won’t ruin your pretty nails” she said. What did I care about my nails anyway? Besides, they weren’t very pretty, at least not at first.

And she was somewhat of a health nut too. She had some herbal concoction that she made me take every day along with some others she got at the store. She said it would help me adjust and boost my immune system. What did I have to adjust to besides her infernal neatness? You wouldn’t believe the ingredients. She ground them all up and put them in big capsules and I had to take 8 a day. They had, let me see, anise, black cohosh, castleberry, fenugreek and licorice root and eye of newt and lizard tongues for all I knew. Can you believe it? She said the fenugreek would help keep me regular, which I must admit, it did. The rest of them? Who knows? All I noticed was that my skin seemed to be a little smoother and clearer and after a few weeks I did feel a bit mellower about dressing decent and staying clean. She made me begin putting some kind of stuff on my face before I went to bed at night. It was creamy and smelled nice and sank into my skin and lo and behold, soon my teen aged acne was gone. My complexion took on a new, soft, glowing appearance. It was kind of nice not having a pimply face for a change. That part I enjoyed.

It was pretty wild at the dinner table too. She corrected me at every turn. I thought Mom and Dad were something, but Aunt Rose told me how to bite and chew and how to sit and how to place and use my napkin and everything. Talk about nit picking!! Of course, I also learned how to set a proper table in the process, clear it and load the dishwasher. That was when I learned how to stoop from my knees rather than from my waist when I spilled something on the kitchen floor. It WAS so much more convenient for loading the washer too. I was really grateful for her teaching me that little trick because I had hurt my back riding my bike and sometimes it bothered me. You can’t bend over from the waist for very long without your back hurting at least not MY back. The only problem with bending down like that was I had to pick things up sideways but being so close to whatever it was, it was rather easier and she was right, it was easier on my back. I thought I was supposed to be on vacation and here I was employed for no wages as apprentice housekeeper and laundress. Well, I felt like a laundress with that apron on, especially over my shorts. Made me look like I was wearing a damn skirt and yes, I did laundry too, learning what went with what and about temperatures and delicates and all! I had never handled women’s underwear before. It was very nice and silky. I had no idea how nice it was until then. No wonder girls like it so much. It IS very nice to the touch. I tried to touch it a few times when I had a date but only got slapped for my efforts.

Well, she kept me at the cleaning until I actually got pretty good at it and it took me hardly any time at all compared to when I started. But gee, was I going to spend my whole summer in the house? I’d even gotten used to the apron. It wasn’t so bad I guess and it did accomplish the impossible. It kept me clean. Not that she insisted that I stay inside all the time. She offered on numerous occasions to take me shopping with her but if her shopping was anything like my Mom’s, I’d never survive it. I mean, in a shop, try on this and that and out again over and over. Boy, women sure do like to shop and buy clothes and shoes and jewelry and all that stuff. My idea of shopping is see it, go in and buy it and get the heck out of there.

August 2nd: Aunt Rose has been on me about my hair. She said to either have it cut or keep it clean and style it. Well, I like my hair and I like it long and wasn’t about to have it cut so I agreed to keep it clean, grudgingly. I should have known when she said ‘clean,’ she meant shiny, sparkly, squeaky clean. What she meant by ‘style it,’ I didn’t know. Aunt Rose had long hair herself and offered to show me how to take proper care of it so what the heck, it was her time and shampoo. She taught me all about taking care for long hair and how to shampoo and condition it and made me give it a hot oil soak once a week. I’ll have to admit it really looked great, nice and shiny and had a lot of body too, a lot too much for a boy, I think. I could have done an ad for one of those women’s hair shampoos as pretty as my hair had gotten. I could swing it around like they do in those shampoo ads too, downright fluffy it was.

It made me feel a little sexy sometimes as it swung across my shoulders if I wore a tank top. Every night I’d have to sit there and brush it to bring out the oils, she said. Long hair takes time, she said. Do it right or not at all was her motto. No wonder I never wanted to keep it nice before but then, I had all summer, only school would be starting soon and I knew she wasn’t going to let up on the hair or anything else. She seemed absolutely relentless about my grooming and deportment. I suppose it wasn’t too bad but I was beginning to have some doubts about myself lately. I felt, I don’t know, different somehow but just couldn’t put my finger on it. I think I was acting differently too, I don’t quite understand it!

She seemed pleased with my efforts and gave me some nice ties to keep my hair back and so I began having a pretty ribbon with a bow in it around my pony tails and sometimes I wore them up instead of down. I know that’s how girls wear them but I liked the way it bounced and swung around that way and I knew that European men wore ribbons in their hair. It was so clean and shiny and bouncy. I don’t know. I just liked it up sometimes. Aunt Rose said it looked real cute up in a pony tail. One night she had me come into her room and sat me down at her vanity table and proceeded to play with it. She brushed it forward and back combed it and parted it in the middle. Then she brought some forward and cut it straight across my brow and let the rest fall to the sides. “Doesn’t that look nice, Keenan?” “Well, yes Aunt Rose, it looks great but wow, bangs and everything and parted in the middle. I almost look like a girl with this nice top on.” “Oh, you just look very well groomed. Don’t be silly, she said.” ‘Ok, so I DON’T look like a girl. Whatever!’ I sure looked ‘different’ somehow. It was hard to put my finger on it or for that matter, how I felt about it.

As far as I was concerned, I was beginning to look darned feminine to go along with all my girlish chores. I didn’t mind helping Aunt Rose out but these feelings I was having were most peculiar. I believe I was becoming accustomed to the gentler side of life and continued handling of Aunt Rose’s lingerie was having a peculiar effect on me, like, I actually caught myself wondering what it felt like to wear something so soft and silky. I noticed I wasn’t complaining about stuff any more like I did when I first came there. I just sort of accepted things now as they were.

It was about this time that I seemed to be having a reaction to the herbs. I felt a little light headed and my chest was sore. I hadn’t taken much notice of it before but it had been going on for a while so subtly that I hadn’t taken any notice except for the itching. Aunt Rose suggested maybe I should quit the herbs and get my vitamins from the pharmacy. She was giving me other stuff too like vitamin C and Algae, Calmag and some other things. She said that whatever she did, she was not having my parents coming back and finding me sick. I really didn’t like taking that stuff with the weird names that she concocted, and so was just as happy when she came home with something else from the drug store and began giving me vitamin shots once a week and I had to only take some of the previous pills and two little brown pills a day from then on. What a relief, and they didn’t taste bad at all. They were coated with some stuff. I think something in that mix made me a little sick too for a few days. Every morning I wanted to heave but after about five days, it went away and I felt fine and my hair and skin never looked better. I was amazed to find myself liking to take care of my hair now. Gee, I never thought I’d like having pretty hair.

Aunt Rose was not one for sloppy dress either. I had come to her in torn blue jeans and a tee shirt. That situation rapidly evolved and she had me wearing dressier clothes around the house like she did and certainly whenever we went out. By the end of July, she had me in nice slacks in various colors and fabrics some of which felt very nice next to my softer skin, some I’m afraid with no zipper or one in the back and even one pair with the zipper on the side, tailored shirts in soft, silky fabrics and really neat, amazingly lightweight loafers with a low cut top down near my toes and low wedge or built up heels. I really think they looked a little girlish but they felt really good and made my feet look smaller, not that they were really big or anything. I really think I was walking a little differently, especially in the slightly built up heels but I found I really liked the higher ones better for some reason. They seemed to feel ‘natural’ and I rather enjoyed the way they fit and felt on my feet although the thought did cross my mind that these shoes made my feet look ‘pretty’. Everything was rather form fitting though and accentuated my small waist and my hips. I didn’t even know I HAD hips. You know what I mean. We all have them but mine were getting sort of roundish and filled my slacks rather well and it wasn’t just that. I was putting on fat all over except my waist. My pelvis seemed like it was actually growing wider, the bones even felt very different. I realized I was going through puberty and all but had no idea a boy’s hips got wider then. Well, you know what I mean. I came to appreciate my pretty aprons as I didn’t want to get my nicer clothes dirty. I guess better shirts button differently too but I learned to love how they looked and felt so silky next to my skin and seemed to flow with my movements, graceful, you know? I got so I didn’t like wearing undershirts with them even though the silky fabric made my nipples stand out.

My bummy old blue jeans became history. She threw them out. Aunt Rose would help me with the housework but I did the washing too. Since I did the washing, I had apparently gotten an appreciation for keeping myself clean too. She taught me how to separate things and how to treat various fabrics, how to fold and what to fold and what to iron. Oh yes, she taught me how to iron too. I found that once I understood how to flatten things and maneuver sleeves and what temperatures to use, it wasn’t so bad but that was a painful experience nonetheless.

I scorched one of her blouses and she punished me. She put these two little hoops on my ears to remind me to be more careful in the future and they hurt like blazes until the next morning. Then, I couldn’t get them out. I couldn’t figure out how to do it and Aunt Rose refused to help and just complimented me on how nice I looked in my navy blue slacks, sky blue short sleeved top with a low vee neck and navy blue stripy wedge heeled sandals and the matching blue scrunchy in my hair. They were leather shoes, and with all kinds of padding in them. They were very comfortable to work in though and they made my feet look really tiny and cute. They were nice enough sandals. I’ll bet a girl would never have worn them without painting her toenails though and I had a flash of what mine might look like painted. Gee, what made me entertain painting my toenails? Well, let’s face it, they WERE tiny but the size inside said seven.

I didn’t think I took that large a shoe. At 13, I was only 5'4" tall and could have sworn my size was smaller. Aunt Rose was a good three inches taller and her feet were just a little bigger, I think. She got me a new pair of loafers too. They weren’t so well padded but they were comfortable even though they did have a built up heel on them. It must have been about 2 or 2 ½ inches but it was a blocky heel and I had no problem walking in them. They were almost as heavy as my hiking boots and the heel height was just about the same as cowboy boots. She told me I should have them because it was good for my calf muscles to vary my heel height during the day since I was on my feet so much. That made perfect sense to me although I could have sworn I had seen the same shoe on a few girls around town. Then it occurred to me that girl’s legs always looked nicer in high heels. I wondered if mine did too but then, nobody could see them with pants on and two inches wasn’t that high anyway. Cowboy boots were every bit that high. I wondered what my legs looked like from someone else’s point of view. Now, why in the world did I even care about that? I never had before!

Aunt Rose was rather attractive and she did have a way with clothes and cosmetics. She knew how to look her best. Apparently, she wanted me to look my best too. Well, that was OK I guess, as long as she was paying for the clothes. I was almost beginning to LIKE looking nice. It did give me a little sense of pride to know I looked nice. It was a far cry from jeans and tee shirts and I began to take a certain pride in my neat and orderly appearance and I must have spent at least a half hour on my hair every day. She said I was really lucky that is wasn’t dead straight like most boys. It fell in soft waves down to my shoulders and turned under a little bit. It seemed to be getting very full and thick lately but maybe that was just because of the conditioners.

September 1st: I start back to school next week. Aunt Rose has gotten me a whole new wardrobe both for school and home. The school clothes are very nice but they make me look a little odd, I think. Some of the older boys looked at me strangely for a awhile but after a couple weeks they got over it. Maybe it was that they had never seen a boy with manners before who knew how to dress and look nice for school. She certainly had drilled all of that into me about how to conduct myself and how to dress and move and everything. Most of them certainly didn’t bother with themselves. A couple of them asked me if I had gone to a Catholic grade school because of my dressing and hair style. I just told them my aunt was very fashion conscious and strict. She certainly had taught me how to be a gentleman and I do mean with the accent on ‘gentle.’ My movements seemed different to me, somehow smoother, less abrupt and jerky, more fluid I guess you’d say like a dancer maybe. Perhaps even a little feminine but somehow, even thought that should have bothered me, it didn’t. This was a new school for me and the kids didn’t know the old, sloppy me. Those two inch heels made me walk a little differently too as I noticed that I had to sway my hips a little more although they were hard to notice as my slacks were just the right length. I liked the way my friend Janice walked in hers and I think I copied her walk.

Mostly my school clothing consisted of nice slacks in various patterns, fabrics and colors, a silk shirt in various colors and maybe a gold chain or two and a pair of loafers over thin, knee high hose. She never let me wear sneakers anymore. Maybe it was the earrings and long hair that put them off at first along with the gold bracelet and the smallish wrist watch. Well, they were earrings and even though they were a punishment, I had come to like them. Now I had two in the left ear and one in the right. I liked to see that little glint of light on them when I tossed my head or looked in the mirror. They had little diamonds that slid around on them as they moved. Aunt Rose had gotten me a few other styles and showed me how to put them in and take them out, even some pretty dangle ones. She told me the ones she put on me were self piercing and that’s why they hurt so much. And the wrist watch, well, a full sized men’s would look ridiculous on my tiny wrist anyway. I wasn’t any bigger than most of the girls in my class.

I had some really pretty studs now that I wore to school and several pairs of dangles that I wore at home. I don’t know why I let her talk me into those but they were very pretty and I loved the feel of them as they brushed my neck as they swung and I had seen dangles on some men on TV but I was a little afraid to wear them to school. It was really odd how my feelings about my appearance had changed since Aunt Rose had shown me the difference between slob and well groomed. Sometimes I’d even put my hair up so I could see them better although Aunt Rose preferred it down, cascading about my shoulders. I’m glad she cut in those bangs. I wouldn’t be able to see otherwise I think. One time, she saw me with my hair up in a pony tail and asked if I would like to try something else, a different way of putting it up. “Sure, why not?” I said. So she proceeded to teach me how to do a braid from my crown back. She told me I could tie it off with a scrunchy or a ribbon but to be honest the ribbon looked nicer. I remember that’s how the men used to do it in colonial days. So I started tying it up in all colors of ribbons to match what I was wearing on top. I had to admit, I did have pretty hair now. It was odd to think how I had come to think of my hair and feet as pretty. I did love the way that braid looked on me and had gotten used to wearing the dressier shoes.

A lot of the ‘at home’ clothes consisted of handsome tops that had a sort of self attached neck tie that was tied in a bow or that I could tie like a regular necktie. Auntie said they were the kind of top that 19th century poets used to wear. I’d wear slacks and a couple of them were designed so full that they actually looked like skirts I’m afraid. I think she called them Palatzo Pants or something. And unless I wore a somewhat higher built up heel, they dragged on the carpet. They sure had a lot of material in them and flowed all over the place when I walked. My newest sandals had a higher wedge heel with a single wide strap across my toes. I guess they must have been at least 3" high. They were cute. I felt a little guilty when I thought about painting my toes. I guess that was what wearing a long skirt felt like although I’d never had a skirt on in my life. Then that thought about what my legs would look like in a skirt crossed my mind. What is the matter with me? First I’m thinking lingerie and now a skirt and I’m enjoying 3" heels?

She got me some new night wear too, mostly nightshirt types, very silky and they came just below my knees except one that came all the way to my ankles and had long sleeves. It seemed to be a heavy satin. I thought that would come in handy in the winter. The fit was grand and loose and they hung somewhat from my chest as well as my shoulders. How strange. I thought my chest was flat but it seemed I was poking out some there along with my wider pelvis that seemed to force me to walk differently than I used to. No matter. At least they didn’t have pockets for breasts in them so I knew they couldn’t be girl’s nighties. Oh, they did have some pretty lace on them but Auntie pointed out that 19th century men wore a great deal of lace, a fact I knew to be true as I’d seen many pictures of them. They were very nice and I thanked her profusely because they felt so neat. She got me a nice quilted robe too.

October 1: Aunt Rose has been at me every day about how I sit and stand and walk and talk. It feels like she’s training me to become King or something, you know, Regal? I’m sure she only wants the best for me but she is at me about every nuance of my disposition lately. She wants me to sit down and rise slowly, gracefully, and not just plop into a chair and she wants me to stand with my feet together and cross my legs slowly at the knee when I sit or at worst, my ankles and to keep my knees together when I sit and arise. She won’t let me sit with my one ankle resting on my knee any more. Whatever could that matter when I was wearing pants? I could understand that if I wore skirts but I don’t.

She even made me carry a book around on my head for a whole week at home until my walk smoothed out with my high heels on. She said I was too ‘bouncy’, whatever that means. Said I’d never be able to be a waiter and carry a tray if I didn’t smooth out my walk. I really didn’t fancy becoming a waiter but I smoothed out the walk nonetheless as I realized that we may have guests and I might be the one serving them. Just to prove her point, she’d have me load up a complete service for one person on large platter with a drink and everything and take it to the table and back to the kitchen when we were done eating. You know, she was right. I had to learn to take a little smaller steps to but if I hadn’t smoothed out the walk and learned to move my hips gracefully, I’d have spilled the drinks every time. The trick was learning to keep my upper body quiet while I let my hips take up the balancing. This also caused me to learn to walk in smaller steps with my feet close together and more in a straight line.

She taught me the proper way to get in and out of a car too, placing my rump in first and swinging my legs in afterwards and then reversing it on exit. I never even knew there WAS a right or wrong way but that made it so easy, I wondered why I’d never thought of it myself. I suppose Mom and Dad would have shown me all this but they weren’t’ around now. She showed me how to take small bites instead of a mouthful, said it was bad etiquette to take such big bites as though I were a wolf devouring a carcass, and chew slowly and with my mouth shut. Now there’s something I never heard of before. I used to gulp everything down and just began to realize that I never really enjoyed my meals before. They were just necessary evils to be gotten over with as quickly as possible. But eating slowly and politely gave me time to really enjoy the meal and taste the food. Eating wasn’t such a bore anymore. It was time for small bites and conversation. She was teaching me how to socialize during a meal. It was rather fun not to just sit down to gobble and go.

I’ve been here six months now and I must be doing too much at home because my body is sore and despite all the work, I seem to be getting soft. My chest is tender and my slacks are getting pretty tight, so tight in fact that I’m a little uncomfortable in them, my underwear included. I really didn’t eat all that much and couldn’t understand why I’d be putting on weight, especially on my bum. I mentioned this to Aunt Rose and she came up with a solution.

She got me special underpants to wear that kept my boy things up and out of the way, not that it amounted to much lately, didn’t even seem to want to rise to the occasion but that garment certainly has made it easier for me to cross my legs at the knee and it gives me a nice smooth line in front. There’s no more bulge there to get in the way of crossing my legs and it’s ever so much more comfortable and looks nicer in all my slacks now too. The only problem with them is that I have to sit to pee since there’s no placket even if the slacks have a front zipper.

Well, I can get used to it I suppose except now I have to wipe in front as well as back as I was never well developed and now I appeared to be losing ground. My slacks are a size nine and when she got them for me, they were nice and loose. Now I more or less fill them completely although my waistline didn’t seem to expand along with everything else. If anything, it’s getting smaller. Well, what the heck. I’m not through growing yet, I’m sure.

October 31: Aunt Rose lives in a rather posh neighborhood and the young girl about my age a few houses up was having a Halloween party. She invited me either out of courtesy to Aunt Rose or because I was in her class, I don’t know which. I didn’t really have a costume but Aunt Rose came to the rescue again.

She borrowed an evening gown, did up my hair in a chignon and made my hair really pretty with beads wound into it and I wore matching long dangle earrings and full dramatic evening makeup too. She got me a pair of matching white pumps with 3 inch slender heels and taught me how to walk and dance in them for a few days before the party. I had always thought that slender high heels must be difficult to manage but was pleasantly surprised to find that these were quite comfortable and I really didn’t mind wearing them for an evening at all. I thought they made my feet look really sexy. My real problem was that I seemed to be rather enjoying these lovely garments and the way they made me feel. By the time the party came around, I suppose I had become rather expert at walking in them so as to not give myself away too soon. My new sandals were that high of course but they didn’t have so small a landing zone. I suppose it was just that the heel was so slender and feminine that worried me but my ankles soon adapted and the little soreness in my calves left too.

The day of the party, she gave me a manicure, shaping my now longer nails with very red polish and also a pedicure with matching polish. I couldn’t wait to see how my toes looked in my sandals now. It had been quite a while since I had cut my nails and wearing the rubber gloves had certainly kept them nice and strong, not to mention long. She shaped them just like a girl’s at least a ¼" beyond my finger tips and I can’t tell you how it felt to have such pretty hands and feet. It was weird how I reacted to this. It was just part of the costume of course, but it did give me a little thrill. Well, I want to tell you I was scared to death but turned out to be the belle of the ball. It was a blast.

I’d never really been popular and I’d never danced with a boy before and they didn’t have a clue as to who the fox in the gown was until the unmasking and then, they didn’t believe it. Let me rephrase that. They didn’t WANT to believe it! The boys were so embarrassed by some things they said to me in front of witnesses that I just knew I was going to be quite safe in school in spite of this little deception. They had lined up to dance with me and their reputations would be ruined if I spilled the beans on them. The attention was quite flattering and I’m afraid I rather enjoyed it. Naturally, I did my best pretense at being a real girl so as to pull off the masquerade successfully and was very apologetic to the boys for fooling them. I really played it to the hilt with the gentle voice and all. The girls were amazed at not only who I was but that I did such a wonderful job of fooling everybody. I had to admit that I really did make a passably pretty girl and the girls seemed to warm to me after the unmasking. I had never been popular but I was that night.

Auntie Rose and I had quite a discussion when I got home about how I had enjoyed myself and about all the boys I danced with. She seemed very pleased that I had such a good time. It was a great deal of fun although I must admit my emotions were somewhat on a roller coaster, feeling giggly and elated on one hand and a bit embarrassed on the other, first for having such a wonderful time being a girl for the evening and secondly, especially when in the arms of a big, strong, handsome, he-man type and feeling very submissive, like a real girl I suppose. It was rather easy to forget I was a boy when a big handsome guy was twirling me around the dance floor.

November 30: Now that Aunt Rose has my manners corrected and my mannerisms straightened out, she’s decided to work on my grooming again. I must admit my hair has become quite long and full bodied and she said she just couldn’t resist doing something with it. It’s down to my shoulder blades now. I had no idea what she meant but she hadn’t hurt me so far, except for the self piercers and that was my fault. Since Halloween, the kids at school have gotten used to the new me. I’ve caught some of the boys looking at me like they do the girls. Have my nice clothes and new manners given me the flavor of a girl? That’s a little unnerving. Could that be lust I see? Heaven forbid. Some of them are really cute though.

She sat me down and wet and wound, clipped and otherwise messed with my hair until she had it all up on curlers. I must have been a sight. I protested, “Auntie, boys don’t put their hair up like this!” “Maybe so, but yours is so very pretty, I just can’t keep my hands off it. I’m sorry if it upsets you but I think you will like the way it looks when it’s done.” While it dried, there were other things to attend to. My manicure never quite resumed it’s boyish charm and my nails remained rather rounded although just a little longer and then longer until they protruded a good 3/8 of an inch and they always now had a coat or two of hardener on them to ‘protect’ them, she said. They were quite pretty even with only the clear polish I now wore daily.

I had gotten used to wearing white hose to school. Actually, I’d always worn white hose to school. I remember when men wore knee high hose and attached it to garters about their knees. My grand dad wore those. And I remember that in the 1940s boys wore knickers with high socks too. Apparently someone had a better idea. The ones I wore now were rather more sheer, I think, and were held up just by elastic below the knee. Some even had pretty patterns in them. I could see my toenails through them and had thought how much nicer they would look if they were in a pair of open toed sandals with sheer, tan hose at school like the girls wore. Aunt Rose had let me keep them painted ever since the party. The scruffy lad who had landed on her doorstep never would have allowed her to paint his toes but I was no longer that scruffy lad. I was much more gentile.

While in the midst of that thought, Auntie interrupted by telling me that she had gotten me a few pairs of casual shoes for at home and school and placed four boxes in front of me while we waited for my hair to dry. I kicked off my shoes and gleefully opened the first. They were a nice, soft loafer with about a two inch blocky wedge heel and a woven vamp in a little lighter color, just perfect for around the house, maybe even out shopping or school. I tried them on and walked around a bit. They were very comfortable. The second was a pair of summer sandals. They were very nice in white leather with several ½" straps across the vamp with a large opening for my pretty painted toes and then an ankle strap and buckle attached to the sling back. They had a crepe sole and a wedge heel also although not quite as high. The name on the inside said ‘Cobbie Cuddlers.’

The third pair was a pair of pumps like men used to wear to the opera. I’ve seen them in older movies. I guess that’s where the expression ‘opera pump’ came from. They were simply an open slip on like a girl’s skimmer flat but with about a ¾" shaped heel. They were very handsome in patent leather and, considering what was to come, may indeed have been girl’s skimmers but I really don’t think I cared at this point. The vamp was cut very low, so low that they actually showed a little of the cleavage between my big toe and the next one. They would look good with either my black or my light green slacks with sheer hose and were very cute though. I loved how they made my feet look.

And then it hit me: these ARE girl’s skimmer flats and I LIKE them. I think I’m really in trouble! The last box I’m afraid, was a bit more disturbing, more of a shock, really. I had tried on all the others and liked them. I did not know if I should try these on nor whether I should be prepared to like them and wondered what Auntie must have been thinking when she bought them. They were also pumps, very fashionably cut, with about a 3" contemporary women’s heel like the ones I had worn to the party. They were obviously lovely women’s pumps and even though I had loved my evening as a girl for the Halloween party, I didn’t know what to say or do. These were for wearing with dresses and skirts. They were downright sexy. “Auntie!”, I cried. “I can’t. These are far too pretty for a boy. They belong with a skirt or a pretty dress and I have nothing to wear them with.” She just smiled. That was certainly a lame comment on my part, I thought. I simply loved them. I just had a hard time admitting it. Oh, I felt my boy self slipping away. Keenan was in trouble.

On the other hand, the thought of wearing such pretty shoes as a natural part of my everyday costume excited me beyond reason. I blushed and my pert and swollen nipples got very hard and I had a series of strange pulsating contracting sensations between my legs. It was really difficult to describe. I felt flushed, very flushed. Seeing my hesitancy, Auntie suggested, “please, won’t you try those on too? They are quite lovely aren’t they?” I slowly put them on my feet. The fit was perfect. I stood up, saying nothing. Oh my gawd, I thought, I’m reveling in real femininity, my very own first pair of high heels. What is happening to me? I love them! “Oh, Auntie, they are adorable. Thank you” I heard myself say in much too girlish a tone and inflection. There went that pulsating again. That feels nice!

I walked confidently to the other side of the room and back with no difficulty at all, having had plenty of practice on Halloween, gliding and undulating my hips as was appropriate in such foot wear as she had taught me before and I’m afraid I had been doing ever since no matter what shoes I had on. It was at that moment that I realized that my gait had developed into that of a young lady and I had little, if any, control over it. I had truly copied Janice’s walk. I now walked just like my girlfriends. I talked like my girlfriends. No wonder the boys were looking at me and small wonder I had found so much acceptance among the girls. I traced it back in my mind to all my practice with the trays of food. I no longer strode. I walked…gracefully, shamefully for a boy, I suppose.

I confess, I did love my new high heels and decided then and there that I should keep them and enjoy them even though they made me feel terribly fragile and feminine. It was a divine, sensual feeling like none I’d had in my young life. I wasn’t so young anymore that I didn’t know what erotic meant and these shoes made me feel erotic. I confess I was having great difficulty feeling like a real boy anymore. I was so much more emotional and expressive than I used to be. Perhaps I had become a sissy, but then, boys wouldn’t be looking at me like they were if they just saw me as a sissy. They were not leering in disgust. It was a feeling far superior to the masturbating that I had recently discovered but that did not produce near the excitement the pumps or my softening chest did. But yet, in the back of my mind, I felt that I was doing wrong, something that was not considered ‘normal’. Perhaps I wasn’t ‘normal’ anymore. Perhaps I didn’t care.

I decided to keep them on though, much to Auntie’s delight. I spent the rest of the evening in that costume and confess that I must have spent more time than usual passing a full length mirror, primping with my new hairdo, straightening my blouse or admiring my new pumps. I was terribly aware of my girlishness that night and confess that it gave me a sense of freedom and power to be able to express myself openly this way. All that was missing was the lovely makeup that I wore to the party and that pretty girl would be back.

Auntie seemed to be smiling a lot that night. She was also very cordial although she continued to point out the flaws in my deportment when they occurred, which were far less to the point she rarely criticized me anymore. I loved the view I got of my pumps when I crossed my legs and crossed and uncrossed them a lot that night. What was going on in my mind that I should be so fond of feminine foot wear or clothing? I hadn’t a clue. Perhaps it was the wonderful feel of the clothing she had gotten me or perhaps it was that I was now less opposed to what might be called ‘feminine’ clothing as I surely loved the pumps and they were surely the ultimate in feminine clothing. But then, I was reasonably sure that everything that Auntie bought me was girl’s clothing. Did she know something I didn’t about how my puberty was going to turn out? Were there options I hadn’t heard about? Why was I so curvy? Why was I excited about the fat accumulating on my chest and bottom? None of the other boys had bodies like mine.

I told her about my sore chest and she suggested that I take off my cotton tee shirt and put on a satin one. Apparently she had foreseen the problem and had gotten me some really nice new silky undershirts. They were ever so much softer and gentler to my chest but instead of the wide straps of some, they had little rope type straps or stretch lacy ones or cap sleeves that held them up. I’d never seen anything like them before. She got them for me in an array of pretty colors and styles and I admit that just looking at myself in my control panties and new Tee shirts, I still looked very girlish and it gave me a certain giddiness. They were very light and I hardly knew I had them on but they did accentuate the bumps on my chest.

“What are these called, Auntie?” “They are a ‘camisole’ dear. It’s an old English word for a silk undershirt.” “Oh, I see.” “There are a couple other styles you may want to try called ‘chemise’ and ‘teddy’. I got you a couple of those too. I’m afraid they have a good bit of lace on them though and chemises are really to be worn with a dress. They are like a very short slip.” “Thank you Auntie.” The camisoles were rather plain but the chemise and teddies were resplendent with lovely lace as well as pockets for my ‘breasts’. And I was getting flushed again as there now seemed to be a little bit of something to put into those pockets and suddenly and without warning the thought ran through my head how nice they would look if I WERE truly filled out like a GIRL! What a terrifying and delightful thought! Talk about mixed emotions! Why was I thinking about dresses and high heels and boys and breasts?

I told Aunt Rose she could get rid of my cotton tee shirts and, in fact, anything I had that was cotton. These were so much nicer and they felt wonderful under my silky tops, shirts, blouses, whatever they were. But not only were the new undershirts softer, I myself was softer, not only in my body but in my speech and in my manner. Perhaps I was also ‘softer’ in my mind, not that I was losing it or was weaker in spirit, but that I was becoming a much gentler person under the care of my Aunt.

I was no longer, if I had ever been, what my peers would call ‘masculine’ at all or anything resembling the rough and boyish slob that arrived on her doorstep. My top and bottom both seemed to have a mind of their own and my arms, well, if they ever had any defined muscles, they didn’t now. They had become slender and unmuscular. I remember that I used to have little maybe 5/8" pink areola (I had to ask Aunt Rose what they were called) on my flat little chest but now they were at least an inch and ½ “ across and turning from pink to brown and becoming awfully fleshy in the bargain. My chest was no longer flat. I protruded noticeably and my pretty nighties hung down from those protrusions rather than my shoulders now!

I’m not so sure it would be fair to even call it a chest any more. I guess that was why I looked so nice in my new underwear. In fact, I swear there were girls in my class who were not so well endowed as I seemed to be and they were careful to be wearing a bra to uplift their tender young bosoms. It flashed through my mind that a bra might not even look at all out of place on my own chest. It was almost like I was growing a lovely feminine bosom to go along with my widening hips and heavier fanny. What a strange thought, a thought that made me tingle with a strange, forbidden delight. Was I growing tits? Apparently, I WAS and the appropriate desires that went with them too I’m afraid! No wonder I thought some of those boys were cute!

When Aunt Rose saw this, she wrote a note to the school and I was excused from gym class permanently. It WAS a bit embarrassing having my chest bounce around up and down and back and forth while I played basketball. It also hurt a bit every time I came down on the floor hard and the other boys in the locker room were having a great deal of fun at my expense.

They made remarks and they stared but they didn’t abuse me.

A few of them were teasing me in a very odd way, almost like they tease with a girl they are flirting with. I would have to cover my nipples with my hands then to cover my obvious excited embarrassment, small is it was. You might think that my reaction would have been an erection. Not so. Indeed, not possible. If I had to give you a size for comparison, I would have to say that my ‘chest’ had grown to about the size of two half navel oranges plus, of course, my distended nipples that now responded every time I became excited. Lately, all I had to do was touch them and washing my ‘chest’ in the tub had lately become arousing.

She finished with the curlers and took them out and brushed my hair again back combing it some but now it fell in soft and tighter waves instead of just gentle ones. It looked very nice and full, I thought, and I thanked her for putting in the time and effort to make me look nice. “It’s my pleasure,” she said. “It gives me pleasure to see you looking so ‘handsome.” We had a pleasant Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings and she let me help her prepare it. I forgot to tell you that she was letting me help her with the cooking now too. I was never one to volunteer for work before coming to live with her but now I seemed to want to know just everything about running a home.

She said I had become quite ‘handy’ around the house. I suppose I had at that. I found I rather liked cooking and I just LOVED to bake! Since it was a special occasion, before dinner was served, I went to my room and put on my Palazzo pants with a lacy blouse and some flesh colored hose and my new high heeled dress pumps. As I slipped them onto my feet and stood up, I at once became excited again as it was just like having a long skirt on with my heels. Suddenly, the thought of wearing a real skirt or a dress and makeup again was tantalizing and provoked another round of giddy excitement but after a few seconds I was able to return to the table in my pants and white blouse without arousing suspicion in Aunt Rose about the way I was feeling. I just felt so terribly girlish and grown up in hose and high heels. If I were honest with myself, I would admit that I had indeed become quite girlish and was unashamedly loving it although I certainly couldn’t explain it. Puberty was really a strange time, I guess.

I had always been rather a layabout at home but here I was more useful and actually enjoying it. Imagine that! I did, of course, realize by this time that absolutely everything that I had learned would ordinarily be considered to be strictly in a young girl’s domain but I didn’t mind. I was much more serene now and I was enjoying all the lovely things that Aunt Rose had taught me and the soft and pleasant clothing that she had gotten me. It seemed that the wearing of all this pretty clothing was having quite an effect on my mind. I truly now enjoyed it and wondered if I could give it up when Mom and Dad came home.

I just loved my new pumps. They made me feel so much more grown up.

December 5th: Pearl Harbor Day. It was an infamous day in history. As young as I was I could not understand why the Japanese had done that to us. I was glad we were friends again though. It’s silly to hold a grudge forever. Well, Christmas was coming and I had already gotten Aunt Rose a gift that I thought she’d like. It was a matching set of ceramic necklace and earrings. She had similar ones so I hoped she would like them.

I had no idea how lavish my Christmas was to be. I came downstairs in my satin nightie with the bow on the left shoulder and mules and house coat on Christmas morning but pretty soon Aunt Rose had me trying all sorts of things on. She told me to go back upstairs and get myself into a matching pair of panties and a chemise and come back down. I think she got me a little of everything: slacks and shoes and hose and underwear and shirts and earrings, chains and bracelets. That was the first pile.

I noticed that the shirts buttoned the same way hers did and asked her if they were really shirts. “Well, no honey, they are blouses but your chest isn’t really built for shirts anymore. You certainly must have noticed how nice your ‘chest’ is beginning to look in your nighties and underwear. You’re still growing. You need more room in there and blouses are made with extra roomy chests. You DO seem to have done some lovely growing there honey.” “Boy, have I ever Aunt Rose. I just can’t understand it. I’m so flabby it’s like I actually have breasts or something. The night you gave me the pretty shoes, I had a flash of how this chest would look in a pretty satin and lace bra. Isn’t that wild?” “Not so wild dear.”

“Perhaps you should treat them like breasts then and see how you like it,” she said. “Open that blue box over there.” “Oh, my! Matching panties and bras. How sweet. My heavens, what am I saying. I’m a boy and I just said, ‘how sweet’ and am excited about wearing matching panties and a bra!” “Are you really excited? Didn’t you just love the Halloween party and dancing with all those boys in your pretty gown and high heels?” “Oh, yes Aunt Rose. It was a divine, wonderful evening. I had a great time and I loved the gown and everything and the boys treated me so nicely. It was a really neat costume Aunt Rose and so resourceful of you to think of something so simple and effective as a disguise.” “And don’t you enjoy wearing your new pumps with the higher heels?” (Blushing) “Yes, Auntie, very much I’m afraid, even though I can’t move or even think of myself as a boy when I wear them.”

“Well, then, if you liked it so much, why not try some other pretty things. Would you like to?” “Oh, Aunt Rose, I don’t know! I really shouldn’t be liking these things but I confess, I do. I love them. I love the soft, silky things you’ve given me but I don’t think I should be feeling this way. I’m supposed to be a boy, not a girl, and these are all girl things but yet I don’t think I feel like a boy anymore. And I look in the mirror even naked and I don’t see Keenan. I see some kind of hybrid girl staring back at me. My hips look like I should be looking forward to motherhood. I’m not sure what a boy should feel like at my age and I’m not even sure I’m a real boy anymore or whether I even care.”

“Here dear, slip on these panties and tuck your little self away and then slip your arms though the straps of this bra. There now, I’m going to fasten it for you and then I want you reach in and to take your breasts in your hands and arrange them in the cups so they look nice and your nipples are about where the seams are.” “Like this Aunt Rose? I’ve never worn a bra. Oh my! They do look much better don’t they? And they ARE breasts, aren’t they?” “Why, of course dear. You’re developing the figure of a lovely young lady and that’s what bras are for, uplifting and enhancing a lady’s figure. Now slip your chemise back over them.”

“I’m so confused. You’ve taught me so much since I’ve been here and I’ve changed so much too. I hardly recognize myself. I had no idea a boy could become a girl during puberty! Look how soft I’ve become and my nails and hair and the way I move and talk and…! My whole body is so smooth and soft and round.” All of a sudden it was like a hand grenade going off in my mind, I realized that it was ALRIGHT to feel the way I did.

And no, I was no longer a real boy in the usual sense and as such had every right to enjoy my girlish things. If I had girl feelings, and I could look like a real girl, as it seemed I most certainly did, then it should be alright to wear girl clothes! Then I thought of that silly expression, ‘if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck…” What a revelation! “Alright. I’ll start opening the other boxes.”

“Well, if you want to see a new you, begin with that small package with the white ribbon.” “Oh, hose and garters. And so pretty too. My Mom wears these. I think they are much prettier than those dumb pantyhose.” “Me too, honey. Do you know how to put them on?” “I’ve seen her do it a lot. I think so.” “Remember, they have the potential to be rather risque if you don’t sit properly. You mustn’t let boys look up your skirts and see your panties.” “But Auntie, I’ve never worn a skirt.” “Oh, I think that is about to change dear.” I proceeded to put on the garter belt and then the hose, hooking it up to it’s six garters. “Now the pink box,” she said. Obediently I opened it and found several full and half slips and two teddies. They were all satin. I took off the chemise and I slid a full slip over my head and adjusted the straps so the cups fell around my bosom. Nestled in the cups of my totally unpadded A cup bra, I now had to admit that I did indeed have a bosom. Not much, but a very real bosom, the bosom of a GIRL, sensitive, genuine breasts, a tiny waist and flaring hips.

“All right, now any one of those hanging packages.” The first one was a beautiful wine colored crepe dress with a full skirt, long sleeves and a high collar. It had a slender self belt and a back zipper. It looked very conservative but it was sexy nonetheless because of the material and it clung to every curve. I slid it over my head and actually managed to get the zipper almost all the way up before she had to help me. It seemed I was much more limber than I used to be. “Stand still dear. You’re almost adept at dressing as a girl but we need to get a little makeup on you again before you see yourself. These are girl’s clothes after all, and you already know you make a pretty girl. I really blushed at that remark but nonetheless said a sincere ‘thank you.’ After all, I knew that I DID make a pretty girl after all the ‘flies’ buzzing around me at the party. “Now the little package over there and that oblong one.” I opened the little one first and there was a pair of lovely crystal dangle earrings in it. I took my others out and put them on.

The next box was a pair of party pumps with 3 ½" heels. They matched the dress perfectly. I slid them on my feet and the fit was perfect also. Having danced all night in heels, I now had no problem with these that were just a little higher even though they feminized my gait even more as I strived to put one foot directly in front of the other like a model. I felt deliciously grown up all of a sudden and then realized that it was a grown up GIRL I was feeling like. I looked down at my feet and realized I had to lean over just a bit to see them. My tits were in the way of my view. The shoes were beautiful and so was my bosom. I just knew I was in trouble thinking about my breasts in those terms as I had visions of them becoming large, full, round mounds to be enjoyed to the eye and in sexual pleasure. I got a flash of that hunk Ron Melany caressing them with those big hands of his. “Alright darling, go look at yourself and tell me if you really think you are still a boy.”

I walked gracefully, swinging my hips as I’d been taught and which now was so natural, keeping my upper body quiet and swinging my arms with the elbows turned in a little, to the mirror in the hall. The click of my heels on the hardwood floor sent a thrill through me that I won’t soon forget. I really can’t describe it to you. I knew I was too young to be having such sensual feelings. Or WAS I?

I just KNEW I shouldn’t be having the feelings I was having, wonderful, girlish, sensual, sexual feelings and yet I realized that these were MY clothes. I could keep them and wear and enjoy them at home, if not in school. There before me stood the reason I was so popular at the party. I was really pretty, not just cute. In that dress, it was obvious that I no longer possessed the body or face of a boy and apparently I no longer possessed the mind of one either because I was simply thrilled at my reflection. And my pert little bosom looked lovely in it’s new surroundings with my tiny waist and widening hips in that full skirted dress. This vision should have given me a raging erection but in fact, I had TWO, but both on my chest. Again that tantalizing twitching invaded my groin. It felt wonderful but threatened to turn my knees to jelly. I’m afraid Aunt Rose recognized the expression on my face and the feelings I was having. I refused to be ashamed. I was too much in a state of bliss. Apparently, she had experienced the same feelings on different occasions.

They were MY breasts and they were at full attention, poking naughtily out against the silky fabric of my new dress, visual evidence of my new excitement. Nothing happened in my previous pleasure center except for those lovely little pulsing contractions that felt so good. It was asleep, perhaps never to awaken again. I reached up and touching them, almost swooned. The way I felt right now, I didn’t even care. I turned this way and that and curtsied. “Oh, Aunt Rose, I’m really pretty, aren’t I?” “Yes darling. You are really pretty. You make a truly lovely girl. Now why would a pretty little thing like you want to be a boy and for heavens sake, why would you want to be called Keenan?

“I see your point Auntie. It doesn’t fit at all, does it? How about Alecia. I think that is such a pretty name.” “Good choice. You shall be Alecia from now on I think, even when you have slacks on because you will want to be wearing your bra and a blouse over it now and perhaps some pretty shoes, won’t you?”. “I’m afraid I will, Auntie.” “Alecia is a very pretty name and you are a very pretty girl. Now, model your other new things for me dear.” “Auntie, this is a little embarrassing but I’m having such a divine time like this, do you think maybe that my new vitamins might have something to do with what has happened to my mind and body?” “Well, dear, I suppose that may be true. Why?” “I just love the way I’m feeling so much. Could we maybe…double up on those things and see?” “Why, of course dear. It won’t hurt you at all. We’ll begin tomorrow. What a splendid idea! We’ll give you two shots a week from now on.” I then knew for sure that Auntie was behind my unusual changes but as the saying goes, I couldn’t have cared less. I was actually grateful. I didn’t understand WHY she had done it though.

And so, I worked my way though five more outfits and accessories and a new pair of pretty shoes with each one, both flat and high heeled opera pumps and wedge heeled sandals too. They were all lovely as were the other gifts. She had gotten me all kinds of lovely rings and bracelets and earrings and hair accessories. There were skirts and blouses too but no slacks in this pile. “I’m sure you’ll be wanting to be Alecia at home so you may wear what ever you wish. I’ve gotten you some cute flats, sandals, high heeled slippers and even a bathing suit.” I was, I think quite understandably, on cloud 9. I spent the rest of the day in a new dress with a full skirt, reveling in how it caressed my smooth, nylon clad legs and how my pumps made me take such tiny, feminine steps and how they made my calves and ankles look.

I knew I was going to have to pretend to be Keenan at school and the thought was not a pleasant one at all. I couldn’t walk or act like him anymore. I had become rather flamboyantly feminine always. I had no friends that were boys anymore except for Gil and he was rather girlish too, I’m afraid. He was an orphan who lived with his aging grandmother. We both hung out with the girls now and I felt sorry for him that he hadn’t turned into a girl too as I was so fortunate to be doing. I felt sorry for him. He was such a dweeb.

Of course, being my best friend, he had been over to the house and had come to know the real me and no longer called me Keenan either. I was Alecia to him too and I’m afraid the poor dear slipped up a couple times in front of the girls when he addressed me at school. Now THAT got quite a reaction, I must tell you and they began to call me Alecia too as there was little left to contradict that name. I didn’t know if my heart could stand all this wondrous excitement.

I’m afraid the mirrors in the house got quite a workout that day. I felt like I was trapped…trapped in Paradise and never wanted to be rescued. For the rest of Christmas vacation, I wore only dresses and skirts and pretty shoes, doing my hair up and wearing light makeup. Gil dropped by to see what I had gotten for Christmas and was completely blown away. I’m so totally sure he was jealous that I felt even more sorry for him.

Each day after that, when Christmas vacation ended, I couldn’t wait until I could get home and into my totally pretty things again and be me. What was ever to become of me? I was beginning to HATE being a boy named Alecia. Sometimes when the teacher would call for Keenan, I didn’t answer. That wasn’t my name. It failed to register. It wasn’t that I was daydreaming or defiant. That just wasn’t my name anymore, in MY mind at least.

Auntie had begun calling me Alecia ALL the time now both in and out of the house. I’m afraid it was a little embarrassing when I didn’t have any makeup or a dress on but it must have been only in MY mind. Apparently, the rest of the world only saw Alecia. Strangers always called me ‘miss’ no matter how I was dressed. My voice was changing but into that of a mature girl.

And then I realized that I had become so pretty and feminine over the summer and so far this school year, that it didn’t matter if I wore a flour sack, I would still be taken for an Alecia. It was a wonderful feeling. People in the shops called me ‘Miss’ or Alecia if they knew me no matter what I wore. Men and boys held doors open for me. I didn’t have to worry about being found out as Keenan anymore. I WAS Alecia now. Oh, my goodness! What has happened to me? Of course, this didn’t escape Gil either and he stopped treating me like just another effeminate boy too. He held doors open for me too poor dear. I really wished that I could do something for him, something wonderful like Auntie had done for me.

January 20: the shock of Christmas was waning and Alecia was growing both in size, although not in height, and in femininity.

She was beginning to have decided , make that EXTREME, difficulties pretending to be a boy at school. She absolutely had to wear a bra all the time and she wore blouses to school with her slacks and androgynous leaning toward feminine shoes and she was not passing as Keenan well at all. It was a cruel joke. Her new true nature was showing all over the place and others responded to it and to her beauty, so out of place in an alleged male package. She was going through a perfectly normal female puberty, only she wasn’t female.

A few of the boys who had danced with her at the party began to come around and talk with her, relating to her as the girl she was becoming and using her now well known feminine name. They were big and strong and she was small and weak, a fragile, feminine creature. It was quite an experience for her to be pursued by boys, flirted with, to be shown the courtesies a woman likes to receive, doors opened, packages and books carried, rides home from school. She didn’t really wear makeup to school although she did start to wear a little colored lip gloss that gave a sexy shine to her young lips. Whether she knew it or not, she had ‘come out’ as surely as if she had taken an ad in the school paper saying, “Keenan is dead. Long live Alecia. I’m a girl now” and had been accepted by both the boys and the girls. She now had two good girlfriends she pal’d around with. She walked like a girl. She talked and giggled like a girl. Her manner screamed girl at every turn and every step of her well turned ankles and she was no longer ashamed. She sang like a girl and she looked like a girl no matter what she did or didn’t wear. Her voice was pure soprano.

February 28: Keenan was a distant memory. It had only been two months since she had gotten all the pretty things but there was only room for one person in that little body now and Alecia wanted the space to grow and she literally evicted Keenan. And grow she did. She grew in knowledge as Aunt Rose taught her all the womanly crafts she knew including sewing and knitting and all about the thinking patterns of a female and how to cope with boys, although her ‘vitamins’ were complimenting that rather nicely too.

Her boy equipment became minuscule as she was chemically castrated and mentally converted. There was no area of femininity that was left out of Alecia’s education. She was no longer a size nine. She was a ten and her bosom has blossomed to a very full B cup by her 15th birthday on March 31 and she began to delight in wearing pretty, feminine blouses to school that showed off her charms with a little pendant nestling between them and pretty lingerie that showed through her tops and blouses. There was no longer any way that Keenan could go to school or that Alecia could go back to being Keenan. “Auntie, I can’t be Keenan any more. When I’m trying to be him, it’s like I’m wearing an outsized trench coat covering up the real me. It feels horrible. I HATE it.” “All right dear. Calm down. Perhaps I can do something to help.”

Aunt Rose had to intercede in behalf of Alecia with the school board. Of course, Alecia’s teachers weren’t blind either. Aunt Rose was a powerful woman in the community and by the middle of April, Alecia was in full bloom. Her records had been changed. She attended girl’s gym and feminine hygiene classes with the rest of the girls. Alecia went to school. Alecia was on the honor roll. Alecia was in the Glee Club and got a solo part with her clear and beautiful soprano voice. Alecia wore pretty skirts and blouses and dresses and flats and pumps and was every bit the young lady she had become through Aunt Roses careful coaching and nourishment of both spirit and body. Every stitch of Keenan’s wardrobe was given to charity. “Aunt Rose, why have I become a girl instead of a boy?” she innocently asked one day. Do some boys just turn into girls when they begin puberty?” I was SO naive! I thought all of this just “happened” like sometimes boys just turned into girls at puberty. What did I know? I didn’t really believe the vitamins could be the cause.” “Why, darling? Don’t you like being a girl?”

“Well, of course I like it. I LOVE it. I adore it. It’s wonderful. It’s more fun than I’ve ever had in all my life but how did it happen? I know I was just starting my puberty but I’m having girl puberty instead of boy.” “I’m sure it has something to do with your hormone balance dear. As long as you are happy and healthy, why worry?” “You’re right of course Auntie but do Mom and Dad know?” “It would be difficult for them NOT to know dear. If I didn’t tell them, another one of their friends certainly would.” “Then they don’t mind?” “It doesn’t seem so Alecia. They are the ones who gave me permission to apply for a name change for you as well as a change to female on your birth certificate. I think that pretty well sums it up.” “ I suppose SO! My heavens! Did you send them any pictures?” “Of course. They wrote back and said you were absolutely adorable, just like your mother was at your age.”

April 10: “Auntie, you’ll never believe it. Carl Simmons has asked me to the junior Prom next month. Can you believe it?” “Of course I can believe it dear. What boy wouldn’t want to date a lovely young thing like you. You’d have to check his pulse if he didn’t fancy you.” “May I go, PLEASE? He’s SO handsome and tall and everything. The other girls are just going to die when they see me on his arm.” “Yes, dear. You may go but you have to be in by midnight. Have you decided what style of gown you want to wear?” “No. I was hoping you’d go shopping with me. I’m not very good at it yet. I need more practice and I’m definitely not ready for a strapless, am I.” “Yes, you are dear and I’ll be happy to help. I’m sure we won’t find your dream dress right away so we can begin shopping any time you like. With a little padding underneath, you’ll look like a movie star.”

“Alecia, sweety, before the prom, I think we should have a little ‘girl’ talk.” “About what Auntie?” “Well, it’s quite obvious that you want to be a girl now and you have something on your body that is trying to prevent that.” “What?” “Those little jelly beans between your legs. Not only do they get in the way but they make chemicals that make your being a girl harder.” “Well, can’t we just get rid of them, you know, like tonsils?” “As a matter of fact dear, yes, and that is exactly how we can get rid of them. It will only take ten or fifteen minutes. Would you like that?” “Oh YES, Auntie. That’s where my boy juice comes from isn’t it?” “Yes, dear, a lot of it.” “Well, please help me lose them then Auntie. I don’t want anything interfering with my life as a girl.” “Alright dear. This Wednesday after school I’ll pick you up and we’ll spend just a little time at the doctor’s office, OK?” “Swell, Auntie. I love you. You’ve been so good to me I’m going to hate to have to leave you.”

Auntie took me to her gynecologist and she was right, just a little snip and a few painless stitches and it was all over. “Rose, I had no idea this niece of yours was really a nephew. She’s gorgeous.” There they went again, adults talking like we kids are not even in the room. “I was a bit hesitant about this but after seeing her, well…it would be a shame NOT to do this and that little penis is ridiculous too. Whatever are you going to do about THAT?”

“A bridge for crossing later Betty, unless, of course, you have connections in that area!. I just might Rosie. By the time she graduates, she’ll have lived over three years this way and passed the real life test. It may cost 10 or 15 thousand but I’m sure you can afford that.” “Of course.” “I’ll look into it. What have you got her on now?” “Well, she was on a blocker but now she’ll just be getting Estradiol and Premarin 1.25 twice a day.”

“How often for the shots?” “Twice a week.” “Cut it down to once for right now. At this age, she needs all those hormones rushing around but with the extra baggage, she won’t need as much. Her mind has turned completely, hasn’t it?” “Yes, she’s all girl and loves it.” “Amazing what can be done if we get them soon enough, isn’t it? I can’t wait to see how she matures. She’s pretty enough now for a fashion model. That can only get better. Well, we’re all done here young lady.” “Treat yourself kindly down there until you feel all healed up Alecia, and then just enjoy your new life.” “Come back and see me in a month for a checkup.” “Thank you doctor. I do enjoy it. I just LOVE it” I squealed.”

I was a bit sore on Thursday but wore a control panty and a pad and nobody ever knew it. I had to wear a napkin for a few days just in case I bled a little. Now there was a new experience. It was kind of neat having to wear a pad though, just like my other girlfriends. I didn’t tell any of my girlfriends either because I wasn’t ready for them to know that Keenan was really dead.

For some time I had been sitting to pee and it was just business as usual now. NOW I might even get away with a bikini. That really WOULD be fun this summer. I day dreamt of this hunk I had danced with, one who was still pursuing me. I could just see me lying face down on the beach. He would be undoing my straps and putting suntan lotion all over me, slowly, sensuously. Ooh, I just tingled thinking about him and that bikini. Well, it would have to wait. It was still cold outside. I could still have warm dreams though, couldn’t I?’

It was now APRIL and was beginning to warm up. Auntie took me on another wonderful shopping spree for summer things. It took DAYS to find and carry it all home and we did find the perfect prom gown. It was chiffon and lace and had a full skirt and showed off my charms deliciously with the built in shelf in the bra and in a light mint green too, one of my favorite colors. I was lucky to have such a generous Auntie and such a large walk in closet. Now that I was 15, she got me some more pretty 3 and 3 ½" heels in white and beige and cranberry to go with a new sheath mini dress. I’m afraid it was rather sexy, especially in heels. We got a white bikini that was very tantalizing and lacy satin lingerie and lightweight skirts, dresses, blouses and sun dresses and rompers.

I was so happy, I just wheeled around in my sandals and stood on my tip toes and kissed her full on the mouth. “You’re welcome darling,” she said. She knew what the kiss was for, the depth of what it really meant by the way it was delivered of course. It went far beyond that shopping trip. I never saw it coming because it was so subtle and yet, somehow, Aunt Rose had taken this ragamuffin boy and turned him into a princess. And, in the back of my mind, I just KNEW that SHE had done it on purpose. It was amazing how effortless it all seemed and now I couldn’t even think like a boy anymore. It was totally impossible. My thoughts were focused on school, shopping and boys, hair, nails and clothes and more boys. I knew that I still had that little vestige of maleness about me but it seemed so insignificant and was very easy to hide now. It would be less than two months until my parents were home from Europe to collect me and take me back to a neighborhood and a school where I wasn’t even known. At least, that’s what I thought.

Keenan was gone and I was legally Alecia now. I could go anywhere, but did I want to? I was quite comfortable at this school and was being pursued by handsome young men. It was one night when Aunt Rose and I were sitting quietly knitting when the phone rang. It was Daddy calling from Amsterdam.

“Alecia, is that you?” “Yes Daddy. I guess you didn’t recognize my voice.” “Well, no sweetheart. You sound like you are growing up, different, but you certainly sound happy too. I’m sure you are having a wonderful time there but I want you to think about something honey. Your mother and I would like you to come over here to Holland and spend the summer with us and we’ll all come back next August. Holland is a very special place honey and I’m sure you would love it.” “That sounds wonderful Daddy. Of course I’ll come. You work out the details with Aunt Rose, all right?” “Sure honey. Well take care of everything. Let me talk to her please.”

“Well, Rosie, I see you’ve done quite a job on Keenan. How long did it take?” “You know we can’t get into that now.” “Just tell me.” “About eight months.” “Well, her mother is going to be delighted. I take it she’s almost complete?” “Yes.” “Well, when she comes to stay with us, we’ll take care of the rest. Holland is a very gender friendly place and they do nice work here too. I knew you could do it. You always were a master at subtlety. I’ll make all the travel arrangements but you will have to take care of the passport and when she is out of school, you just have her ready for the trip, alright? You’ll see she has a nice wardrobe?” “Of course. She does already.” “Thank you Rosie. You’ve been a big help and Janice will be very grateful. We’ll make it up to you.” “No need. I’ve enjoyed having her here immensely. Quite an unusual challenge but an adventure too. I’m going to rather miss watching it all happen. It was a lovely, perverse kind of fun.”

The prom in May was everything it should have been and, as a freshman girl, Alecia was on top of the world. Her dance card was full and her date was attentive and actually got her home on time although they did spend a little time getting to know one another in the back seat of his buddy’s car where, let us say, that she was made to feel like a real girl as Carl’s tongue sought hers in a deep and passionate kiss before she was politely escorted to the front door and properly kissed goodnight. And then came final exams, always a joy, which she passed with very acceptable grades.

A few days later, she was as the airport with Aunt Rose immersed in a teary fair well. They had to pay extra for her baggage as there were four large suitcases. She was only 15 but the way she was dressed and made up, she looked at least 18. She wore a dark blue skirt suit with an above knee skirt showing off her full thighs, smooth knees and calves and a plunging neckline on both her blouse and the suit jacket combined with her push up bra served to advertise that she was all girl and proud of it. The young gentleman seated beside her was most appreciative of both her company for the trip and her attire. Too bad it was the Concord and would be such a short trip to London.

Alecia’s connecting flight got her into Amsterdam at 5:40PM and had it not been for the pictures Aunt Rose had sent, they wouldn’t have recognized her. To her parents, she was a vision they had hoped for 14 years ago when they adopted her/him.

Janice had wanted a girl so badly and that was understandable enough, considering that she had missed most of her own childhood.

There were hugs and kisses and tears of reunion and they had the porter carry her luggage out to the waiting limousine. “Well, Mommy, what do you think?” “I’m simply speechless Alecia. Your mom must have been gorgeous.” “But you ARE gorgeous Mom!” “I think it’s time you were told honey. We adopted you when you were a year old. Your real mom died in childbirth and we wanted a baby and I couldn’t have one so, here you are. Of course, I really wanted a little girl to dress and spoil but a boy was all that was available, so we took him. So tell us, how do you feel about all that’s happened to you in the last year and where do we go from here?”

“Mom, I don’t know how to even begin to explain it. Aunt Rose began to sand off the rough edges on me and it just seemed like one thing led to another and then there was a Halloween party and I was the belle of the ball and it was so much fun I didn’t want to stop even though I felt it was wrong of me to feel like that but after I asked Aunt Rose to double up on my vitamins, things were easier for me and I just sort of…evolved into Alecia.” “Well, darling, we have a confession to make. We like you better as our daughter anyway and speaking of that, have you thought about what you want to do with well, you know, the uh, leftovers…?” “Don’t be bashful Daddy.”

“I’d like to pour sulfuric acid on it but I’m sure that would hurt too much. Why?” “Well, here in Amsterdam there is a very famous doctor named Hans Bruckner and he can take that away and leave you complete, undetectable from your girlfriends. We were thinking that if that is what you would like, we can get it done and you will be all well and ready to go back to school in September complete in every way.” “Oh, COULD I DADDY?”

“Honey, you’re choking me. Yes, we can arrange it. Now, why don’t we just relax and tomorrow we’ll take you around and show you all the beautiful sights there are to see here. More tulips are shipped from here than anywhere in the world. We’ll take a boat trip through the canals. You’re going to love it.”

“Mom, you said you couldn’t have a baby. I don’t understand. How come?” “May I tell her?” “I think so darling.” “Alecia honey, when I was growing up, I was a lot like you and I was very lucky too.” “What do you mean Mom?” “ I mean honey, that I was a boy orphan too and taken home by someone else who had wanted a girl. We put you in Aunt Rose’s hands for that reason. She is responsible for how lovely you are. She is the one who helped you become a girl. Aren’t we lucky, the both of us to have been cared for by such talented and devoted people?” “I love you Mom and Daddy.” “We love you too sweetheart. We’ll call Dr. Bruckner tomorrow.” “Daddy, I have a really sweet friend who is sort of a boy and he’s an orphan too. Do you think maybe Aunt Rose would be willing to…?” “She seemed to have a wonderful time converting YOU honey. Do you really think your friend would like being a girl?” “Oh, I’m sure he would Daddy. When I showed him what I got for Christmas, he almost cried.” “Well, we’ll ask her when we get home, alright?” “Great! I think Gil would make a really cute Gillian. He even looks a little like that X-Files star.”

The end…for Alecia, but perhaps not for Gil!

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queenslasharchive · 6 years

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Another Damn (Vam)pire Story, Chapter 4 (The Prologue)

(Author’s note: This is the epilogue of Another Damn (Vam)pire Story, but not of the Another One Bites At Dusk Series. You’ll be seeing more installments soon! :)

Also: We do not support pedophiles or non-con here. Amy and Robbie’s (more than platonic) relationship is completely consensual and doesn’t occur until Robbie is a grown ass adult who can make his own decisions about who he wants to love and be with. :)

Bapuji: Robbie’s name for Freddie, father in Gujarati. Bunic: grandfather in Romanian.)

“Eye of newt, and toe of frog,

Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,

Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting,

Lizard’s leg, and owlet’s wing,—

For a charm of powerful trouble,

Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

Double, double toil and trouble;

Fire burn, and caldron bubble.”

― William Shakespeare

Robbie Deacon met The Devil when he was seven years old.

And he wasn’t talking about his Bunic either, Froggie’s father.

Actually, Amy was a Prince of Hell, so just a powerful demon. Not exactly The Devil but close enough.

He met his then-contractor at a street carnival in Piccadilly Circus, he had a pocket full of 10 quid and a line of younger siblings trailing after him like a clutch of eager ducklings.

Mikey, Lo, Jimmy and even little Felix, a too-warm wet face nuzzled into his neck as he toted the vampiric toddler along.

Their fathers had been busy preparing for a show at the time, leaving the kids to their own devices or in the care of their usual Nanny Freestone. (Of course they’d snuck away from Uncle Phoebe. It was all they ever did).

The babies, Lulu and Rory, were still with their minder.

While an excited Mikey made them stop and stare at every shop window as they passed by. Lo and Felix were gumming at Robbie’s mustard-colored hair or yanking at it in fistfuls. Jimmy had his face buried in Robbie’s tummy like an angry little limpet as they waddled along.

Being a big brother right sucked sometimes.

Mikey raced on ahead of them, until he collided sharply with a pair of black jeans that sent him falling backwards onto his bum, arms pinwheeling as he went down with a soft oomph.

The tall redhead scowled down at Robbie’s little brother, as though the poor kid had killed somebody instead of just being his overexcited self.

Robbie raced over (well, as fast as he could race with all his attachments) and dragged his little brother to his feet, positioning himself between Mikey and the scary redhead.

“Sorry, sir. He’s just excited.”

Robbie really didn’t sound all that apologetic, but he smiled anyway.

Concealing his birth-father’s temperament behind his soft child features.

“It is okay, Robert.”

The tall man hummed and Robbie thought that was the end of it, dragging the kids along with him. But he stiffened mid-turn. How did he…?

“Come.”

The man wasn’t smiling, but he seemed warmer somewhat as he beckoned, fingers curling towards his palm in a come hither motion.

Robbie’s arms were suddenly weighed down, heavy as anvils with the children who rested there.

He remembered being utterly terrified of the redheaded man, in his dark clothes and rattling chain jewelry. It was like a nod to one of the ghosts from A Christmas Story.

The seven-year-old was planning on just plain running, until he saw the glint of something strange in those dark feral eyes. Oh no.

“Mikey, take the kids and go to Uncle Phoebe. Now.”

He passed over Felix and Lo near seamlessly and Jimmy obediently took Mikey’s hand at Robbie’s behest. “Run, and don’t look back.”

“But…” He saw his little brother’s lip start to quiver and he shook his head slightly, eyes wide.

‘Remember Froggie’s lessons?’ He mouthed pointedly, as clarity dawned in his little brother’s eyes this is what he trained us for and in the next second the younger was practically flitting away, off to get help and their little siblings to safety.

As Robbie turned back to the redheaded man looming before him, tiny hands curled into fists as he stood his ground.

Trying to portray his whole defense with his eyes alone. My Froggie, one of my fathers, has fangs half the time, and my baby brother does too. My Uncle Phoebe is a hairy scary werewolf. You aren’t all that impressive, bruv.

“Come, Robert. We have an engagement.”

The redheaded man, his demon, his soon-contractor, Amy before he knew him as Amy, took him by the hand.

One tiny soft (human) hand wrapped in a huge clawed other.

“How did you know my name?”

Petulant, with his bottom lip jutting out plaintively as he was tugged along into the shadows. The walls around them seemed to ripple, all the colors and lights were swimming around and around and made him nauseous. He used the redheaded man’s hand to anchor him.

“Are you here to hurt my family?”

That question came out more demanding than the first, and when neither was answered, he ripped his hand away.

Teeth gritted tight and his nose wrinkled, spinning around with fists raised. As if he could actually defend himself against one of Froggie’s enemies.

The room stopped moving the moment their hands disconnected.

The demon before him was less than impressed.

“I’m not here to take anything from you, or to hurt anyone you love, Robert. In fact, I’m here to give you a gift.”

Robbie’s narrowed suspiciously. “I don’t want The Bite or a Turning.” He wasn’t stupid.

The redheaded man smiled.

“I am not a werewolf or a vampire, little Deacon. I created them.” The creature came closer and closer, until they were right in front of each other, close enough to touch. “Oh no, I am here to give you a gift that will let you help your family, keep them safe, and thwart the laws of life and death.”

“That’s impossible. Besides my family is full of immortals anyway. I don’t need you.”

Scowling, pudgy arms crossed and lips pursed like a pair of taut strings.

“The living dead cannot die.” Robbie froze. “That little brother of yours? With the diluted vampiric blood? Enjoy his maybe twelve years of life, before the vampiric blood destroys the marrow of his long bones and takes his life with it.” Robbie looked up with genuine fear in his big blue eyes.

“Felix? That’s going to happen to… I’ll be able to save Felix with your gift?”

The demon nodded, extending a hand again.

“You’ll be able to save them all.”

Robbie Deacon, seven years old and raised by human monsters, peered at that hand suspiciously once more. “What’s the catch?”

“I, Avnas, Prince of Hell and 58th spirit of the Goetia, will have claim to your human soul.”

Robbie Deacon gave claim of his soul to a demon when he was seven years old.

He became a contract-witch that day, a future warrior of Amy’s thirty-six legion army.

One of the damned.

-X-

“Why me?”

Robbie would ask in later years, sleeping with his head pillowed in Amy’s lap after one of their consensual midnight excursions.

He would ask it as a man, with a halo of mustardseed curls around his head, a pentacle scar on his palm and a tongue like a viper. His porcelain fingers interlaced with a hand that had once been so big.

The redheaded demon’s blue flames licked at his skin like the raspy tongue of a cat, tickling rather than burning as the witch snuggled closer to his contractor, his demon, his lover.

Amy used his actual forked tongue to play with Robbie’s pointed ear, bending the cartilage back and forth, back and forth, before he spoke.

“I am all-knowing, all seeing, carissimus.” The latin word term of endearment sent a pleasant shiver up his spine. “I saw more than you as a stubborn child back then, I saw what you would become.”

Blue eyes met red.

“You knew that you’d love me one day?” Robbie smiled, smugly like the cat who’d gotten the cream. Amy rolled his eyes and lightly pinched the younger man’s backside, making him pout something fierce.

“No, you cheeky little imp.”

Before Amy, he wouldn’t have known that a Prince of Hell could blush.

“The love is all your fault. Nobody else but you would fall in love with a demon. Perhaps there’s something wrong up here.” Gently knocking on the side of Robbie’s head.

The witch shrugged, wiggling even closer.

“My Dad fell in love with a half-vampire, So I guess like-father-like-son. We both love the dangerous types, the ones who could probably kill us.” He furrowed his brow, still pouting. “But …If not love then what?”

“I saw what you could do, what you were going to be…My boss didn’t want you fighting on the side of the angels.”

Those hands, burning with blue hellfire, gently rubbed their thumbs across his cheekbones.

“I just wanted a soldier.”

Robbie snapped his teeth instead, in a beautifully gory smile. A man who wouldn’t bow, who wouldn’t be tamed. “Funny, ‘cause if I remember correctly, I’m the one who wanted you.”

-X-

Robbie knew that his Bapuji was sick, long before the adults bothered to tell them anything.

But they knew.

At least poor Felix certainly did. The little boy could smell it, the same way the cats could. Sometimes he would have to cover his nose and mouth and run into another room to cry. Things were really really bad.

For the rest of the kids it was just a suspicion, but it wasn’t hard to see the looming death-sentence with the way everyone else acted around him. Hell, around them. They weren’t that dull.

Bapuji was always smiling though, smiling widely with all his teeth exposed, as he would ask them what they wanted for Christmas and their birthdays. Even if their birthday had just gone by. He went shopping over and over and over again. And sometimes he would spend hours in the garden painting.

When Robbie found the little clutch of presents for each of them, hidden away in a room upstairs, with different dates and birthdays written on them in Bapuji’s careful hand, he stiffened and closed it again.

Running to his room before he burst into tears.

He was thirteen years old, still in the stage of his platonic frenemy relationship with Amy, that was far more hate than anything else… although edging towards eventual begrudging acceptance.

When he awoke in the middle of the night to the demon’s voice himself, shaking him awake, he scowled and almost cast a spell from sheer irritation but…

“Robert, your Roger is dying. He tried to…”

“…Turn, Bapuji.” His raw more-than-awake voice finished for the demonic entity speaking inside his head and he threw himself out of bed. “Shit!”

Snatching up his rusted bloody athame, ceremonial knife, from the little locked box he kept hidden behind the wooden slats underneath his bed, and an old book that Amy had given him, after he’d used his own blood to sign his name on the first page. It had become his, the ritualistic Book of Shadows of a contract-witch.

Then he was running down the hallways and a flight of twisty stairs as fast as his pink socked feet would allow him to do so.

Cursing both the carpeting and Bapuji’s penchant for pretty things, every time he nearly tripped and flung himself into the sun with the force of it.

He knew the way to his fathers’ room, nestled as it was in the center of the house like a heartbeat, because he’d traversed the path multiple times a day, from the time he was old enough to be autonomously mobile.

Of course he loved his Mum, the way a child is always wont to do.

The same way he loved his Aunts and Uncles Joe and Phoebe. But his fathers were something else entirely.

Froggie, Bapuji, Dad, Brimi, they were his primary parents. Sure, his Mum was as well, especially on tour stuff, and the Uncles and Aunts had been loving on him since the day they’d arrived. But his relationship with those four was something special.

It no accident that he called his siblings, his siblings.

Despite the differing blood in their veins.

He careened into that room with all the decorum of a battering ram, nearly taking his eye out with the fucking casting knife as his hip slammed against an end table near the door and shattered a fancy purple vase. Fuck.

He was just about to apologize too, on reflex, when he actually processed what was happening in the room before his eyes.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Joe was shaking in the corner, arms wrapped tightly around himself and eyes shut against the world.

Bapuji was crying at the end of the bed, held safe in Uncle Jim’s arms, turned away from where Robbie could see, all he could see was the hair… hair that was longer than he remembered, a lither body too… and the quaking shoulders as he sobbed.

Brimi was on the floor, legs tucked under him and staring at the carpet, not even making a sound. Like he’d just crashed there or something. Unable to move, think or even breathe.

It was the scene on the bed though, that really made Robbie feel ill.

Phoebe, Dad and his Bunic, his grandfather Vlad, were feverishly working over a corpse with fanned out dark hair and the same round features as Felix.

Froggie.

But also not Froggie at all.

Despite his chaotic entrance, it was if nobody had so much as seen him, a veritable ghost as he neared the bed, eyes wide and horrified, pupils stretched from corner-to-corner of his blue irises.

His Bunic was biting Froggie’s arms and chest, over and over and over again.

Phoebe was doing the same on his end, hoping that at least one venom would take hold, and it looked as if someone had tried to force the corpse, that thing lying akimbo that was once Froggie, to drink as his full lips were smeared with crimson blood.

His Dad was doing CPR, pounding on Froggie’s chest with the whole of his body weight, as if desperate to get the dead heart beneath his hands to start beating once more.

It was utterly devastating to see.

His Dad wasn’t normally good with emotions, unless it was anger or upset. But the man on top of Froggie was frenzied, sobbing so hard and screaming complete nonsense, that it was a wonder that he had enough air to blow into the corpse’s mouth at all. Forcing the chest up and down, up and down.

But it wasn’t catching, it wasn’t doing anything.

That spark inside the corpse, that spark that had once made Froggie, Froggie, was just gone.

That thing wasn’t their Froggie anymore.

His hand reached out, and he felt all of two years old again, reaching out for Froggie to kiss his booboos better, a tiny pale hand that always found a home inside a too-warm one.

A slightly larger pale hand now touched that same skin and it was chilled like ice. He recoiled at the wrongness of the sensation.

“Froggie.” He whimpered.

Something that finally seemed to spurn the acknowledgment of the other living beings in the room. Although now it was Robbie who couldn’t look away from the dead.

“Robbie.” Phoebe sounded strangled. “Robbie, please go back to bed.” A forced tearful smile that never reached his eyes.

“…There’s nothing you can do.”

“He wouldn’t want you to see him like this.” His Dad sounded utterly destroyed, his voice was wrecked and almost as bad as he looked.

“Well, I don’t give a damn about what he wants!” Blood pooled in Robbie’s cheeks. His teeth were gritted tightly and he flung his athame and blood book onto the bed, climbing up on his hands and knees to join them. “I’m going to save his life!”

Vlad blinked at him, and those ruddy feral eyes honed in on the ritualistic items before him. His mouth falling open slightly in shock. Robbie could see the fangs playing peekaboo there.

Then his gaze turned back to his fallen son and he was resolute all at once.

“What do you want us to do?”

His Dad was aghast. “Robbie, what are you on about?” A sad laugh as he stopped giving chest compressions and sat back with a tearful desolation about him. “Love, there’s nothing you can do.” He sounded like he was already dead. His father opened his arms for a hug or maybe absolution, but Robbie simply shook his head, setting his jaw tightly as he took his Book of Shadows into his arms.

He opened it to a blank page and used the sharp edge of the cover to garner a drop of blood from his thumb. Pressing it to the parchment.

Amy, I need candles for the circle and symbols of earth, air, fire and water to call each corner.

Please.

“Here you are, little witch.”

The candles were made of long strips of white and black wax, life and death, five that he set to one side, a vial of water (at least he sincerely hoped it was water), and a handful of …dirt.

Yes, of course, thank you so much Amy for this handful of old black dirt without a container.

“Cheeky little brat.”

He resisted the urge to stick out his tongue.

Instead he snatched up the candles and all but threw them into his Bunic’s arms. “Here! Make a circle around the bed but don’t light them.”

“What are you doing, darling? Where did those come from?!”

His Bapuji’s voice sounded weird.

Not a bad kind of weird, but like he’d never smoked a ciggie before in his life or ever even gotten sick in the first place. Robbie turned over to see blood tears drying on a Bapuji that he’d only ever seen on old album covers, except this one had red eyes, fangs that stuck out farther than his existing teeth and a strange feral sheen about him, with the way he focused on everything Robbie was holding.

The only thing the little witch could say was: “Oh God, it actually worked.”

The next thing was: “I summoned them. Please I’ve got to heal him, Bapuji. I need you to get Brimi off the floor and Uncle Joe out of the corner. Please trust me, I can do this!” His voice was verging on the desperate and his Bapuji must have seen something there, because he jumped into action.

Uncle Jim helped as well, his Uncle Jim who looked at him in a way that he never had before.

Almost with something akin to fear. Fear of him or fear for him, the boy didn’t know.

“Bri, please get on the bed, love… Yes, there. Now that’s the ticket.”

“Joe, darling, come we can’t do this without you.”

It was only when they were all on the bed, looking at him in varying states of shock and confusion that he picked up his athame again.

And used the sharpness to carve a pentacle into the soft pale flesh of his hand.

Blood welled up from the deep slashes in his flesh, like oil from the deep dark recesses of the earth. His Bapuji swallowed hard, turning away from the blood with the trembling form of a newly turned vampire, while his Dad cried out and snatched up his son’s injured hand with his own.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

Trying to blot at the raw flesh as if to stop the bleeding.

Robbie snatched his hand back defiantly. Setting his jaw against the only person who could out-stubborn him. Their usual peacekeeper was a corpse between them.

“Robert Deacon!”

He completely ignored his father and turned to the group at large.

“Join hands and don’t scream.”

He took the dirt into his own.

“I call to the guardians of the North! Children of the earth and new life! Hear my cry, bring back your son who cannot die!”

He spoke in a voice that wasn’t his own. But one that wasn’t Amy’s either, his casting voice was deep, raw and gravelly like it was being dragged up from the very pits of hell. Blue flames exploded in his palms to burn up the dirt, and the candles at the front of the bed lit up with hellish light.

Then the vial of water.

“I call to the guardians of the West! Children of the sea and change! Hear my cry, bring back one who cannot die!”

Then he paused. Looking at the many faces pressed in a circle around him, looking at him like they never had before. Like in that moment he wasn’t their son, he wasn’t little Robbie Deacon anymore. He was a monster. A thing of nightmares.

“I need something made of metal to call the guardians of fire…”

Instantly his Bunic was pressing a black steel ring with the face of a gargoyle into his hand.

“I call to the guardians of the South! Children of fire and passion! Hear my cry, bring back a father who cannot die!”

Then he held his athame into the air, still dripping with his own blood.

“I call to the guardians of the East! Children of air and loss! Hear my cry, save one who cannot die!”

Suddenly the entire room was ablaze with hellfire, flames that wouldn’t burn anything except for what Robbie wanted them to. His eyes were closed as he reached out and laid a hand on his Froggie’s bare chest.

“Lower, Robert. Find his iliac crest, where his blood cells are made. Wake up the marrow.”

He slid his hands down lower, to hug his father’s hips. Staining the icy skin with his blood.

Under Amy’s careful guidance he forced the blood cells to reform, forced the vampiric blood in those veins to start jostling about once again. Fighting inside the body to manipulate it. To get that heart beating. He poured everything he had into it.

Froggie holding his hands as he stumbled through his first steps, his first lost tooth, his first triumphs and his first defeats, his first crush, his first broken heart: all the milestones of his first thirteen years of life.

Dancing around the kitchen with socks as ballet shoes.

He never cared about his father’s unique lineage or the red eyes and fangs. He never cared about the baggies of blood in their fridge or anything that they couldn’t control.

His Froggie was always perfect in his eyes.

He always knew how much the family meant to his Froggie, but he also knew without a doubt, that above all else. They, he and his siblings, were the loves of Froggie’s life.

Reading goodnight stories in funny voices to make them laugh, coming up behind them to sweep them up in his arms, tickling and kissing the daylights out of them. Spinning them around up on his shoulders.

Froggie would’ve done anything for them. He had even given his life for Bapuji. The purest kind of love was selfless love.

Love beyond all confines.

Please. He doesn’t deserve this. Amy, please.

He felt the small twitch and then how that deadened heart began to beat once again, slow at first and then in the frantic pounding staccato beat of a dhampir.

Froggie’s skin grew flush with an uncomfortable heat, and his fanning dark hair began to lighten. Half-mast blue glassy eyes darkened to a crimson red, the milky haze fading away.

Roger Taylor woke up screaming.

Jackknifing up ramrod straight with full vampiric features displayed: wrinkled bat nose, elongated fangs and bloody eyes. Alive, so fucking alive.

Well, about as alive as the living dead could be.

The flames on Robbie’s body were extinguished all at once, and he flung himself into his Froggie’s trembling arms, sobbing like he was three years old again instead of thirteen.

Clinging to that bloody skin and letting that too-fast heartbeat fill his ears with its heavenly sound.

-X-

The fact that his dads’ bed was strong enough to hold all of them (Froggie, Dad, Brimi, Bapuji, Mum, Auntie Dom, Uncle Phoebe, Uncle Jim and Uncle Joe), was pretty spectacular, considering all of them were clinging to Froggie and each other, without the slightest thought of letting go.

Dom tore his dads and uncles a new asshole each for not calling her once things went sour with the change (the one that apparently everybody knew about but him) and Froggie seemed to be reeling from the fact that he’d nearly ended up six-feet under.

Robbie shook his head from where his face was still smushed into his Froggie’s furnace-warm chest.

“No,” His voice was small, eyes still closed. “The living dead can’t die.”

His Bunic was sitting by the windowsill, a gentle smile on the young yet ancient face.

But that smile faded when turned on his grandson, edged by a touch of knowing sadness.

“Which one was it, guriță?” He asked softly, eyes shaded. “Which demon?”

Froggie was sitting up at once, looking at Vlad with bewilderment.

“What demon, Dad? What are you talking about?”

Vlad gestured to Robbie, then turned fully to face the teenager. “Which demon did you sell your soul to, Robert?”

To say that all hell broke loose would be an understatement.

He simply hung his head and spoke over the throng.

“Avnas. And I didn’t sell it, I let him lay claim.”

Vlad cocked an eyebrow, “A Prince of Hell? Well. I suppose you deserve credit for shooting high.”

“So I wasn’t hallucinating you being on fire?”

His Froggie sounded sick. Robbie just shook his head. Still not daring to raise his gaze from where it was examining the drops of blood on the bedclothes, ones that looked like rose petals spread across the plush duvet.

“You’re thirteen years old! How in the hell did you sell your soul to a demon?! Why? What possessed you to do that?”

His Dad looked livid and it was finally enough for Robbie to raise his head and glare with everything he had.

“I was seven years old!” He wailed, fists clenched and tears welling up in his eyes. “It wasn’t exactly in my life plan, alright?”

He whipped his head around to meet their stares head-on. “Yes! I’m a contract-witch, I let a demon lay claim on my soul to save my little brother’s life, to have the power to save all of yours, and I’d do it again if given half the chance!”

He was crying genuine human tears.

“No need to worry about my damnation!” He let out a little hysterical laugh. One of his Froggie’s favorite words. “I’ve already gone and damned myself.”

His Brimi, his closet father at the moment, dragged him into a hug so crushing that he whimpered. The others followed suit.

He almost didn’t hear Amy’s sad voice, heavy and guilty in his head. He never knew a demon could feel remorse.

“Little witch, I am so sorry.”

-X-

Phoebe turned Joe into a lycanthrope once he started showing signs of having AIDS as well.

They had been together for as long as Robbie could remember and he threw white petals at their little forest wedding in the backyard.

Their family grew as he did, every years or so bringing more siblings with it.

Josh came only a year or so after his first meeting with Amy. Luke and Cam were his Mum’s last foray into the baby-making front. And he was old enough to have fathered them himself by the time they came along. But he loved them all the same.

Tiger Lilly and Rufus Tiger Taylor came after a family trip to Mexico.

They were naguals, shape-shifters who could take the form of jaguars. Mesoamerican indian folklore called them protective spirits that guarded the rural villages from the dark sprits who lurked in the deepest parts of the jungle.

He called them his little pain-in-ass imps who were always underfoot, causing mischief with their half-transformed faces and bending Bapuji’s cat army to their will.

But beyond it all, they were his baby brother and sister, and he loved them thusly.

Lola May Taylor was a Christmas baby, left on their doorstep like a little Christmas miracle.

Obviously her parents hadn’t realized that they’d chosen to leave their baby on the Addams’ family doorstep. (Or maybe they were more like the Munsters?)

She and Aunt Mary’s little boys completed their family.

As years passed, he wondered how long it would be until Bapuji and Froggie would change Dad and Brimi.

The answer for Dad was on a warm spring day in March, when he was in his late fifties.

Curly hair shot with thick waves of gray that they teased made him look like The Bride of Frankenstein. He had been in the kitchen with Phoebe that morning, making a cup of coffee with Bapuji sitting up on the countertop stealing kisses, as the family all sat around the table and wherever else they could fit.

Hanging out during a weekend brekkie.

When his father’s face had suddenly creased with a surprise pain, and the cup had fallen from his grip, shattering into a dozen pieces on the floor. They’d all watched it fall.

Watched as their father collapsed to his knees, gripping his chest and curling inward from the pain of his heart-attack.

For an instant Robbie actually thought the older Deacon was bending down to clean up the mess.

Froggie and Bapuji changed him on the kitchen floor, all of the kids huddled around like a horde of emperor penguins. Robbie ready to conjure, just in case.

Dad woke up to his new life with everyone he loved watching with bated breath. Robbie would never get used to the way he looked like his vampire Dad’s twin.

Brimi lasted the longest, he was in his early seventies when he came home from from a routine doctor’s visit with a set of test results in one hand and a clutch of freshly cut flowers in the other. They changed him in bed, all three of them together. Robbie sat against the door into the wee hours of the morning, listening, ready just in case. But he wasn’t needed.

They were all okay.

And it was only the beginning…

-X-

His Amy, his friend, his contractor, his demon, his lover, was a living, breathing demonic asshole.

But Robbie had to give him credit, a living, breathing demonic asshole with morals. Nothing happened between them until Robbie Deacon was a grown man, a goddamn adult with a free-for-all choice of what he wanted to do to with his life. He didn’t owe anything to Amy or hell until the day he was steered away from the pearly gates.

But they fell in love anyway.

Even though demons were meant to never love humans. Even though he should hate the demon prince for claiming his soul like a greedy asshole who didn’t want him tearing Hell apart by the seams.

They loved anyway. The truest rebels of all.

“My little witch, my sunshine… I’ll burn the contact, take it all away, if you only ask.”

“No, this is my life. My choice.”

You’re my choice.

He didn’t say. He didn’t need to.

It wasn’t ordinary. It wasn’t normal. But it was theirs.

They loved.

-X-

“Mama, life had just begun

But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away…

Mama, ooh (any way the wind blows)

Didn’t mean to make you cry

If I’m not back again this time tomorrow

Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters

…I’m just a poor boy, nobody loves me

He’s just a poor boy from a poor family

Spare him his life from this monstrosity

Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?

Bismillah! No, we will not let you go (let him go!)

Bismillah! We will not let you go (let him go!)

Will not let you go (let him go!)

Never, never let you go

Never let me go, oh

No, no, no, no, no, no, no

Oh, mama mia, mama mia (mama mia, let me go)

Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me…”

-Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody

#maylor #frian #joger #froger #breaky #deacury #fic #submission #author: waywardrunawaycherryblossom #series: another one bites at dusk #au #roger: vampire #freddie: vampire #john: vampire #brian: vampire #extended family #relationship: polyamorous #relationship: established

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universal-kitty · 6 years

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So I’m thinking about Borderlands again... Listening to music used in Borderlands... So I thought, why not go for it again? Explain my SI in one, comprehensive post, make another tag-series out of it (to go with my BnHA Edition one), and make it easier on us all, huh?

So here we go! Borderlands, the Self-Insert Edition! Featuring my SI, Rena “Gremlin” Marlow...and co.

Rena Marlow, a daughter of a brilliant scientist of their galaxy and a mother known- if lesser- by her photography of various planets and stars.

Brown hair parted down the middle with strands of brown hair that fall next to her face, in later years; in childhood, she just has fringe. Dark green eyes and wears glasses.

A happy, oblivious kid growing up. Liked to believe in fairytales, love at first sight, superstitions... A whole bunch of things. Very imaginative, in that sense.

Idolized her father. People seemed to adore him and knew him wherever he went. He spent long hours in his lab, making Rena daydream of all the cool things he was inventing back there. She was never allowed back there, usually, so she stuck to waiting around and staring at his lab door.

Eventually, he did invite her in, one day. Wanted help. The idea was so cool! Helping her dad with a project?! Wow!!! What cool thing would she get to work with?

...It wasn’t at all as pleasant as she’d hoped.

What he needed help with is all she’d ever know as “The Machine”. A smooth, pure white, helmet-looking contraption with lots of cords going into it, during the early days of her father hammering out the details of it.

It hurt then, too. Not being fully worked out, it tended to shock her a lot. Strapped down to a chair, she couldn’t go anywhere... Her father would carry her back to her room and- at some point- the process would begin again.

Carried on for a few months until it didn’t hurt anymore; it started...teaching her things. Suddenly, she knew all about oceanic life and could speak of it at a college level. Write her own studies on plant life. Her father was proud of her, The Machine didn’t hurt anymore, and even her often space-case mother praised her. It felt...amazing!!

Eventually the testing stopped, though. Her father brought in a guy to help and Rena was growing up, as the years passed.

In about junior high, she met a guy. Absolutely starstruck by him and settled on them being “soulmates” within a month or two... Not that it was just her saying this, mind you; her boyfriend certainly encouraged it.

Her friends were cautious, but supportive. Be chill, girl. Still a lot more in life, you know? Besides, considering who her dad is...?

Rena didn’t pay it much heed. Instead, more plans for the future! More dreams and secrets and quiet moments...

Well, until another few years later. Wandering the town at night, heading home...and spying that- just down the street- her supposed “boyfriend” was being sweet to some other girl, said he loved her, and kissed her.

It destroyed her. Her home life had never been stellar and she’d been hoping that with him...she’d be able to get out. They’d be a “happily ever after”.....

Rena instead decided to run away. That night. Get as far away from here as possible. Pack her bags, slip as much money and a little more as seemed necessary...and as a final knife to the back, steal The Machine.

It’s no secret it’s been killing other people, anyways. They can’t handle their minds being fed so much information, so it tends to backfire and rapidly destroy their mind... Rena’s never had that issue, though. Likely for growing with it as it evolved...so hers now.

Books it off-planet that night and goes as far as she dares within the next solar cycle or two.

Stays on another planet for a few months. Fakes an ID and goes to a local college... Who calls her out for being a daughter of Dr. Marlow anyways and practically sweeps her in with excitement.

Ends up acing everything far too easily, thanks to The Machine. But it all gives her a good starting point into the world ahead and a fancy piece of paper that basically says, “congrats, you understand what a Science is.”

At this point, understands: biological science (biology, zoology, oceanology), botany, geology, chemistry, ecology, and physics. And she’s just getting started!!!

Keeps running once more ‘til the funds are running low...and that’s when she finds Hyperion.

Initially joins under Tassiter, still recruiting people for Hyperion. He’s...doubtful of her true age, but accepts upon seeing what she can do when he allows her a trial run of things he wants to see done. Fast and experienced despite her face, he lets her join.

Enters R&D from that point on, at first as an on-hand assistant...before rising up to earn her own private lab and assisting with bigger and better projects. Rena proves herself worthy of it, and Hyperion bends a little to allow her, when possible.

It’s around this time, as they move into Helios and continue to set up, that an old crew hunts down Rena. They force her to accept their black-market deals or they report her back to her father... After all, they work for him, too, but are always lookin’ to cut a deal with the better side. Rena gives in.

The events of the Pre-Sequel go down. Rena largely keeps herself locked inside her dark laboratory, hiding away in one of her cabinets. It’s a terrifying, defining moment for her...and one that also helps survive the inevitable Jack takeover.

Honestly, that goes over like day to night for her. One minute, it’s still a “Tassiter” owned company, then before she knows it, Helios is complete and “Handsome Jack” owns the place. Well, okay then. Let her have her coffee as usual, oh Jack sir, and we’re all good.

Honestly, barely leaves her lab. Too much work going on. If not a Hyperion-issued project, then one of her own designs. She’s got a lot of room to work with and she’s gonna make the best of it, dammit!

Still manages to make a friend or two; meets Leah around this time. A very cheerful young woman who’s somehow dug ABBA out of their grave and is fond of “Dancing Queen.” Helps Rena keep in touch with her “feminine side” not that she sees much point to it...

They hang out a bit, anyways. It’s the only time Rena is guaranteed to sleep. Especially in a proper bed.

(Doesn’t sleep in the employee-issued rooms. Gives her paranoia of being alone; she’d rather be close to her work than stuck in a near-permanent panic attack.)

Her first pet project? Lizards. With a whole process of breaking down other key DNA sequences from other species. Why? Lizards....into dragons.

Silverstreak is her “main” partner. Silver dragon, with blue eyes. Incredibly bossy and sassy to the others; easy to assume their leadership position.

Other dragons include:

Apophis: Big male dragon, slightly bigger than Silver. Purple and gold scales, with four eyes total. An absolute jerk who tries to harass Silver, but they have none of it. Would kill a family for a cornchip, probably. And he doesn’t even like them!!

Dymri: Forest green dragon, with brown horns and a streak of fur down his back, with tufts on the bend of his forelegs and hind legs. Is now missing his left wing, due to Apophis ripping it nearly entirely off. (It ended up being amputated.)

Munda: Dymri’s mate. Ended up sprouting a lot more fur than he did, but in a more unusual color: green. Looks like a dappled forest with blue eyes and an attitude.

Poseidon: Blue, serpent dragon. Fairly big, though not as much as Apophis. Likes hanging out in water... That with his scale color, thus, the name.

Firestorm: A red, wyvern dragon. No arms, just wings, only hind legs. Red scales with bright green eyes. Truly a charmer.

Smokey: Firestorm’s mate. Dark scales that give off a black-grey color, which inspired her name. Red eyes. Has a tuft of fur at the end of her tail.

Sugar: Another female dragon named for her brown and cream-colored scales. Also a wyvern, with her hand-wings. Very sweet and friendly to anyone she meets. Small streaks of feathers from head to her tail.

Little Angel: One of the G2 dragons, along with three others of her nest. Has a broken horn on her right side. Black and white-splotched scales. A little trooper and totally not named after a certain siren...

.....Along with many more who are still unnamed to this date. From the first set (G1s) to the babies some pairs have had (G2s).

Cue the events of Borderlands, as Rena continues to raise dragons and serve Hyperion. Depending on who-what-where, this may be where some romances start their growth...but we’ll get to that later.

People continue to bother her. A nickname surfaces... “Gremlin.” Because she’s pretty short (at 5′2″ without her trademark heels), tends to be more active when most people would feel the need to sleep, and creeps around with a hunched back, more often than not. Truly, a gremlin among them.

Nothing really happens in this time period up ‘til BLands 2, in which Rena decides to perfectly time a trip to Pandora with a small group of scientists. Nobody’s really gotten personal with studying the Pandoran landscape, have they? So... Guess Rena will do it, then!

Only to find out why nobody has ever done that; raiders and bandits. Infiltrating the camp barely a week in.

Everyone is murdered. Rena escapes with the briefcase that holds The Machine, but is otherwise alone and stuck on Pandora.

Ends up trying to blend in, after a few weeks. There’s only so much an intelligent woman could do here...but how about one who acts like your typical psycho? Worth the shot, at least.

Slowly, the good scientist slips away into a woman masquerading madness while seeping into it, at the same time.

Pops is one of her first friends on Pandora. Someone she trusts...and a father figure to her. He’s a big man who knows hacking and coding, so she learns a bunch from him. They build robots together! It’s awesome.

From there, she gets introduced to this eye-guy waaaaaaayyyyy across the way over a call from Pops to that other guy. Rena ends up making him “Fly Boy” to do deliveries without leaving home.

Said guy looks out for Rena now, getting her new glasses whenever she breaks hers.

Made a few other bots in her time. One that only screamed “fuck” at the top of their lil’ volume, a fixed Claptrap unit with no sense of direction, and a bot named Sparky. But bandits destroyed him a few days into life. RIP, Sparky....

That nickname Helios gave her? Gremlin? Others call her that, now. All know of Gremlin!! ....Well, not all, but a lot.

Including Pyrotech and Meowzer. They run a small gang of bandits and are probably dating...? Gremlin still doesn’t know, either way, but she survived meeting them, so that’s cool.

Met another person who calls himself Scabbs. Largely because he’s got CIP (can’t feel pain; a marvel that he’s still alive when Pandora is your home planet) and so has a fair amount of scars and scratches... Ever since meeting up with Rena, she’s essentially adopted him and makes sure he’s got no life-threatening injuries.

Which is lowkey hilarious, considering Scabbs has made it 17 years without dying, so he’s not exactly in need of a parent, but... He likes Rena, so it’s cool.

Stocks up on weapons, clothes, and masks. All looted from dead bodies and washed up a little. Rena herself as taken to wearing a black tank top, torn up into a crop-top look, a Marauder jacket, and altered, brown pants. Has boots for shoes. Where she got ‘em, nobody knows.

Is stuck on Pandora all the way ‘til Tales... In which she tends to join up in an attempt to get back to Helios and get all of her shit back.

With that covering the basics... Let’s get down to the AUs, then the shipping verses after that, ey...?

AU 1- AI Rena: There’s two verses for this AU. (As long as this post already is.)

Verse 1: Rena owns the Wildlife Exploration Preserve shortly before the events of Tales. However, she didn’t realize one of her pet projects wasn’t bonding to her properly. While going in for feeding and check-ups, the beast killed her and activated a failsafe that resulted in an AI version of herself being activated.

Rhys, having no concept of safety, jabs a port into his head to try and get information on more pieces for Gortys. Just like a time before with Nakayama, Rhys instead downloads a whole ‘nother AI into his noggin.

Now he’s got an Asshole and a Know-It-All Scientist taking root in his skull. The good news is Rena is much nicer to him than HJack is. The bad news is the two bicker a lot because of it.

Where Jack is blue with yellow eyes, Rena is a green holo with- at first- light, green-yellow eyes. Over time, her eyes shift to yellow, however. Nobody is sure why, but Rhys and Rena agree to blame Jack for it. (Who is proud at her matching him, but less thrilled to be blamed for something he didn’t do... Intentionally.)

Lots of Rena snarking Jack. He can touch her, being another hologram like he is, but he can’t hurt her. Turns out her processing power comes from The Machine itself, so she can easily overpower his cruddy design from Nakayama.

Has a side path where she can enter a basic, non-perfect android body to reboot the systems at the Preserve, but later needs to transfer in another, more humanlike model to function better.

....HJack is not pleased with her upgrades, considering she’s getting the better end of the deal than he’s got. Rhys isn’t impressed with that tone, either. >:/

Verse 2: The Machine takes it’s toll on Rena. Her mind could better withstand it’s power, having being an unwilling subject in the early days of it’s development, but... Even her mind can’t keep this up forever.

It starts with forgetting her name. Won’t answer to Rena, but Gremlin works.

Forgetting her nickname.

Slowly, everything she’s ever learned starts going away. Bit by bit, losing what memories The Machine gave her. Rage sets in around here, recognizing her memory is no longer perfect and putting her into a panic of self-awareness.

Memories of people slip away now. Often cries for her ex or where her parents are.

Eventually is confined to bed, where her brain is failing to the point it can’t remember to continue to make the organs function. It’s around this point that she finally dies.

Her personality and memories were embedded into The Machine; her final goodbyes to friends and loved ones. Her AI keeps people from using it after her and requests that it be destroyed soon.

Just like in the first verse, her eyes start out a yellow-green. Then a yellow... If not destroyed, AI Rena’s eyes will sometimes flicker to red, showing how deeply the corruption has started effecting her.

Either way, The Machine will be unusable. Just as how Rena believed it should’ve been.

Siren AU: An AU in which Rena was instead born a Siren. She sports green tattoos on her right side and often made them glow when she was younger, for her amusement and not understanding who she was...or her powers.

Not that her parents helped any. Her mother was just completely confused and arguments over what to do with her were had a lot. Rena’s mother wanted to get her checked out at a hospital. Her father believed she truly was a Siren and wanted to experiment on her.

The arguments eventually drove Rena away and- living on Elpis at the time- Rena began the first dip into her powers: summoning her Siren wings (in a light green tinge) and flying away...off Elpis! Taking a trip to Pandora in order to hide from her fighting parents.

Phasecommand- Her main Siren ability. When executing, her eyes roll back and it summons Pandoran beasts/animals to her side to control and fight her enemies. However, any creatures that don’t disperse afterwards can be considered enemies to her allies or her, if she accidentally hurts one.

When using Eridium, her tattoos will change into more of a teal color and glow more.

Likes the idea of people, but prefers the animals and Guardians. People are too much for her to handle...

Somehow still summoned little dragons...? Is only ever seen with ones the size of cats or lizards, but it’s presumed that- like her main verse- they’ll one day mutate to full, dragon-of-legend glorious sizing.

Dragon AU: In one of two paths, with either Rena being one of the dragons of Eridian times OR having accidentally turned into one of her own dragons.

Either way, her dragon form typically looks a little something like this.

The first verse has her being more curious and prone to friendliness...but ready to snap if she senses ill intent. Still, tries to be optimistic, at least. Rests within a cave near one of the vaults.

About the size of a two-story home, if not a little bigger.

Rena speaks Eridian, but has the capacity to learn present day English, if given the time to learn.

The runes on her body allow her to safely use Eridium. By using it, her systems can filter it properly into a variety of uses, from specialized fire to shape-shifting!!

Verse two is just...Rena being done with this bullshit. All these years of science, for what? To be stuck as a dragon?!? The only useful thing that comes of this is not only does she now understand the world through a dragon’s eyes, but their language, as well.

Turns out, the language of the dragons is actually original Eridian and not whatever mumbo-jumbo you hear most present day speakers go for. It’s an interesting bit to learn, however it’s debatable if the cost was worth it.

(Will eventually return to normal with an understanding of Eridian, but I like just putting my SIs through nonsense, too.)

otp; Science and Violence (Rena/Jack): As literally pulled out of the RP @punk-opossum and I did a few months ago!! Cause I basically consider that “canon” for this ship, now. (Okay, with a few bits I’ve added in, but LARGELY pulled from our RP.)

They’ve been around each other since the beginning, really. Rena oblivious and never noticing Jack, but he’s seen her around. Quiet, nerdy gal who bothers nobody and does her job. Is kinda cool, but no other opinions.

Then, we truck over to the events during Borderlands 2...and things get tossed around like pizza dough. [Note: Nisha and Angel are dead at this point.]

Starting with Jack bothering her workspace. Shooting her head of department and declaring her in charge of Literally Everything R&D now. Rena is just trying to fucking work, ohhhh my god.

Not only that, but Jack casually shoves the Destroyer project from Nakayama right into her hands, as well. Rena has never been more overwhelmed in her life....!

And that’s BEFORE all of the innuendos and Jack’s husky voice getting way too close to her ears!!

...So yeah, it definitely starts as what should’ve been a fling, but attachments get all sorts of muddled. Rena’s the sort of balance Jack finds himself craving and, well... He’s fucked, but giving her the little things she thought she lost when her ex cheated on her. So maybe...it’s okay?

Lots of Jack being thirsty while Rena’s trying to work. Or him being clingy when she wants to go back to work... Far as Jack’s concerned, his job is full of free time and is so boring without her around. However, Rena can actually prioritize her work and keep this company’s science division flowing, soooo.... Hmm.

Rena has the struggle of a lifetime, but she still ends up getting her trip to Pandora to do on-planet research...much to Jack’s paranoia and displeasure. (Which ends up being right on the money, despite his best efforts.)

Can’t believe Rena would be dead. They can’t find her body either, so like... Far as Jack’s concerned, she isn’t dead. Doesn’t mean he’s any more pleased or sane about the whole situation, though.

Jack goes full-tilt into madness, sending people hunting through Pandora to try and find Rena. Hilariously, they’re always close, but either she just left her camp or they pass right by her hiding spot.

They don’t find each other until a few years later, when Handsome Jack himself is personally tearing a town apart on Pandora, still engulfed in his hatred for the planet and presumably taking Rena from him.

He aims his gun at a kid, but freezes. Something about her little tanned face, dark brown hair, and...hetrochromatic eyes....has him frozen in his tracks. Then her mother comes running up, their eyes meet, and Jack nearly roars in realization.

She’s dirty as hell, hair messed up and toting new scars from Pandoran life, but that’s Rena...!! Who’s... Who’s the kid, though?

He nearly has another freakout at her assurance this little girl- Carina- is his daughter?????

He’d want to not believe it, but Rena consistently swears off having messed around with anyone else. Oh, and the fact Carina happens to have eyes like her papa. (But unlike his heterochromia, hers is central; a different color surrounding the pupil.)

With this, they kicked off most of Jack’s thoughts for the Warrior, instead Jack now focusing a large chunk of time for the fact Rena’s back, not dead, and was badass enough to raise and protect a baby on Pandora. Mother of the Year award?? Y’all know who it’s going to.

Carina ends up being Jack’s lil’ princess. The only reason she’s not a spoiled brat is cause Pandora does shit to ya and also Rena knows the limits of taking care of kids; so really, she’s mothering both Carina and Jack.

THOUGH BEFORE I FORGET!!! There is a subset of this verse where also Angel is alive, didn’t have to keep being treated like she was, and- while it was a bit late- still managed to get a better mother figure. Oh, and Carina still happens later in this same verse, so her mood improves even more to have a little sister.

...Jack is totally a little salty that Rena and Angel get on so well. He’s an ass, but does love his daughter, so he’s like a sulky cat, knocking stuff over and hovering around, hoping for attention and acknowledgement.

Rena keeps Jack in line those days, so...eventually Angel and her father get on a better foot than before and he’s very okay with everything and clingy to his family.

otp; Rulers of Pandora (Jack/Rena/Nisha): In which Jack and Nisha take in one of the local Hyperion nerds to spice things up... Only to decide, “naaahh, she’s a keeper.”

Took her into their fray around the early events of Borderlands. Where things are fun, but could be more fun... You know?

Jack’s seen Rena around before, but never gave her much thought... His mind is simply too here-and-there to keep notice for long when he’s trying to pick at more shallow aspects to bring in.

Nisha catches her eye, though, and decides she’s curious when Rena immediately looks away, blushing up a storm.

Turns out, Rena can’t handle Nisha. At all. Immediately turns into a klutz around her. Nisha finds it fucking hilarious and proceeds to drag her off to show Jack...who also realizes how hilariously awkward Rena is. They’ve taken her in, since.

Primarily still spends a lot of time up on Helios, but on occasion, will go down to Pandora to spend time with Nisha once HJack gives her Lynchwood.

Is definitely the little “pet” of the trio and is mercilessly teased by them for it, but anyone else messes with Rena? You’ve now got two of the six galaxies most lethal minds on your ass. Start running.

Nisha: I don’t like cute things. I kill cute things. Rena: cooing over some baby skag bc she’s an idiot Nisha: .........For fuck’s sake--

In other words, both Nish and Jack both soften up a bit for Rena. Which is a mistake for anyone else to see, cause while they’ll let their favorite nerd frolic in a field of baby animals, they’d still sooner shoot an annoying pest.

Nisha and Rena are the only ones to know about Jack’s true face under the mask. Nisha doesn’t really care, but Rena? Loves it.

Two Murderers and the Embodiment of Sunshine. That’s how you sum them up.

otp; love like fools (Rena/Rhys): I don’t know what Imma do with this anymore, but it exists as a verse, so I’m gonna heckin’ include it.

Met around the events of BLands/BLands 2. Rena had overworked herself on a project and was hiding in a break room. Cup of orange juice in hand and staring at it. Rhys couldn’t sleep, so he came in... They had an awkward conversation, but not much else.

Curious, Rhys starts stopping by the R&D department more and starts realizing the issue: she never takes a break or seems to get much rest. Work, work, work, day and night. Isn’t that exhausting??

So Rhys takes it on himself to get her food and drink. Mostly snacks, but whatever works. He also tries to ask about her projects, but it largely goes over his head when she starts doing her usual round of science talk.

He tries, though. So that’s nice.

His crush is obvious as shit as time keeps going on. Even his friends notice. Leah notices. Rena? Does not. She is oblivious as heck. Rest in pieces, Rhys.

Literally nothing happens there. Just Rhys doing his best to get Rena’s full attention with no luck. Right up to her eventual trip-and-trap to Pandora.

They don’t meet again ‘til the events of Tales! While wandering around the landscape, Rhys bumps into “Gremlin”, realizes she looks familiar and...

Rhys: ...Are you Rena? Dr. Marlow? Gremlin: Who...? WAIT A MINUTE!!! YOU?!? Rhys: Y-YEAH!!! YOU’RE ALIVE?!?

Everyone else is confused, but Rhys and Rena proceed to catch up. Meanwhile, HJack is making comments that are making Rhys’ face pink and trying to mentally shut the AI up before he says something embarrassing to Rena.

Which basically happens anyways, cause he excuses himself to walk away, thud his head into the caravan, then walk back trying to act like nothing happened. Where were we? #Concern from Rena.

She joins the troupe for fun times, being surprisingly okay when Rhys admits that HJack’s AI is like...inside his head. Just chillin’ there. Well, when not being usual Jack, but you know.

(In some variations of this, AI Jack was programmed to know Rena, so he’s twice as insufferable as usual. However, this isn’t often the case.)

It takes Rhys forever and plenty of nagging from HJack before he even tries to smooch Rena. And even when he does, it was still a terrible idea, cause Jack wouldn’t shut up. Thankfully, Rena’s still pretty chill about the whole thing.

Fiona and Sasha warm up to Rena over time, Vaughn’s heard about her from before, so they all pal up while Rhys has a crisis over HJack ruining his romantic life. It’s a nice break from freaking out around other people, at least.

Joins them on the trip to Helios. She needs to check up on her babies... It’s been so long....

An expert at sneak, a duck around cameras and back up to the old employee living quarters... It’s amazing what a brush, hot water, and a change of clothes can do for a person. (Gotta readjust to heels again, though.)

While Rhys and Fiona are taking over Helios to get the next piece for Gortys, Rena makes her way back to her lab. Not everyone is gone, but... A lot of the G1s have passed away and even a few G2s. Silver and Apophis stay strong, but have been slowly getting bigger in Rena’s absence.

Encourage the trope into an old, cleaned out nesting box and start figuring out her escape plan from there, trying to get in contact with Rhys and Fiona. Only for an eerily familiar voice to pour out around Helios...and announce Rhys the new leader of Hyperion?!

Shit. Shit, shit, shitshit- Now what? She didn’t think Rhys was gonna be in cahoots with Jack! I mean, yeah, he idolized the guy.... Jack embarrassed him a lot, but he still seem to think it was pretty neat...... Awh, hell. Still! Gotta get outta here!!

Ends up smoothly making her escape in a ship with some of her more friendly co-workers: Dan [the Man] (a pilot who used to fly HJack’s private ship; trans, demisexual with a preference for men who is a coffee addict) and Leah.

...And then Helios crashes not too long later. Dan is...less than impressed (internally freaking out, however) and Leah is basically having a panic attack.

Rena tries giving them advice for surviving on Pandora, but Dan later finds Atlas (now being rebooted by Rhys) and decides with Leah that they’ll join up.

SURPRISE, SURPRISE, Rhys owns the place. Dan is brought on as his personal pilot (”Sweet. So, where’s the coffee machines around here?”), Leah is hired for PR, Cassie (a blonde lesbian who’s only ever done secretary jobs most of her life) joins later as his secretary...and Rena? .....Shit, Atlas doesn’t really...have an R&D department, do they...?

Rena nervously points out that- if he finds the muscle, they could retake the Wildlife Exploitation Preserve. Take over, do some rebuilding and remodeling... Make it not only into Atlas’ new R&D, but also a way for Rena to continue her penchant of creating dubious creatures. Also because the dragons are only getting bigger as their generations continue.

Pyrotech and Meowzer decide to join in, along with Pops calling in a few favors. Bandits v. bandits to clean out the place and serve as muscle while WEP is getting remodeled. (Also, they’re getting paid, so other bandits looking for a handy buck hop on for the more beneficial side.)

Rena gets a new look to symbolize her Atlas change (a black, long cloak with a hexagon pattern on the inside, black tights, black heels, and an ombre, orange-red-to-yellow, turtleneck dress; hair is also pinned up)! Power couple of Atlas, basically everyone agrees. And kind of like in another verse, Rena keeps him in line....when he’s not having to do the same for her!!

Rhys: I’m not sure....making a monstrous, three-headed dog is a good idea, babe. Rena: I didn’t come here to make wimpy science, Rhys!! I came here to kick ass, take names, and do SCIENCE! But thank you for your opinion~ Rhys: ......oh no.

6-legged to 8-legged cats are realized under Rena’s flourishing arms. A three-headed dog. The dragons prosper and return to Pandora, honoring Rena as their Mother, as Silver- and later Apophis himself!!- have done.

She even creates an android in secret. Names them Aria and they have learning software. Everything about life, they must learn on their own. Starting with the Preserve, and then one day... Leaving home to formulate their own experiences.

Later in life, Rhys and Rena have a daughter, naming her Vela. (A reference to the trio of constellations that Carina is also a part of.)

Has about as much common sense for safety as her mother does. Rhys is terrified for her safety on the daily. Because of their lack of fear, Rhys tries to keep Vela with him at Atlas HQ more than at the preserve with Rena.

otp; nerdperion (Rhys/Rena/Vaughn): ...I mentioned it once. Then the idea snowballed from the initial idea and the “what ifs”.

Look, I can’t deny it. It’s the nerd trio that most only dream of. In their Hyperion days, you had the money man, middle manager, and the top scientist.

By the time of Tales, you have a bandit leader in his own right, an Altas CEO, and woman who is held back by only her set-in-stone morals.

Vaughn and Rena going on raids out on Pandora, protecting people and the Children of Helios. Perhaps even with the dragons as backup...?

Rhys constantly has to worry for these two dorks, but that’s why he has a steady wing in Atlas for healing stuff. A fair bit of research passed on from Rena, to be fair, but still.

Vaughn takes lessons from Rena how to ride beasts. Like dragons! Was it a good idea? Not really. But nobody got hurt, at least!!! And Rena also solidified the saddle designs for them, so that’s pretty cool, too.

Rhys is a little more boring on that side of the coin in the regard he’s mostly just running a company, but still. Vaughn helps out from time to time and Rena’s running the entire R&D division of Atlas, so.....

otp; scientific haikus (Rena/Zer0): In which my first crush from Tales lives on...and it’s a rather unlikely couple, honestly.

Starting right off the bat with the fact she never really knew about them until one of her Pandoran raids? They showed up to kill some people and then just kinda...disappeared.

That first meeting bothered Gremlin for weeks. Who?? Who????

Meeting them again...and again..... Never getting the courage to confront them out of fear. (What if they slice and dice her up, too?? She’s lived too long to get struck down now...) But despite that, she eagerly daydreams about the oddity...

Also, isn’t as sly as she thinks; Zer0′s been knowing, they’ve just been waiting for Gremlin to go first. Though, she hasn’t been...so that’s a bit of an issue.

Eventually, they make sure that their next target will be in an area they know Gremlin frequents. When she shows up...Zer0 finally gets the chance to introduce themselves.

Zer0: Finally, we meet / Finding you was difficult / My name is Zer0; pleased. Gremlin: .....Did... Are you speaking in haiku?! Zer0: :) Gremlin: ...holy shit; nice.

They strike up an odd sort of friendship from there. Meetings become random again, though Zer0 takes time to listen. They actually are able to call her Rena in private which is...nice. Kinda easy to forget that was her name before the whole “stranded on Pandora” bit.

Zer0 ends up enabling her collecting habits, too; brings back not-too-bloody clothes and trinkets they find while out and about on jobs. She gains quite the collection, thanks to that!!

Actually wanted to offer assistance when Zer0 took on the Gortys hunt, but joined up only later on and... HOLY SHIT, HYPERION EMPLOYEES!!!

It’s wild, seeing familiar faces and talking about the past. Zer0 has...some concerns, but otherwise trusts the group with Rena.

This includes their plan to invade Helios, in order to get the final piece Gortys needs to access the Vault of the Traveler. They’re not thrilled about her involvement in the plan, but Rena still knows a lot about Helios and the Hyperion system. Her going with ensures things will go even more smoothly, so... Who are they to deny their crush friend from helping others?

....And then they hear it all went to shit. Though they showed up, trying to find Rena among the wreckage... There was no luck. They get upset over this for quite some time, but without a body... Zer0 keeps a metaphorical ear out. Won’t believe she’s dead yet. Not yet.

Eventually, when Rhys gets in contact with Zer0 for help with the vault, they meet up again. Rena is ecstatic to see him again- having since become the head of Atlas’ R&D and gone hunting to assist with this, too- and Zer0 is just happy to be right; she didn’t die back then after all...

Is surprisingly handsy from there on out, flashing the smile or heart emoticons, a hand on Rena’s waist, etc.

Everyone else catches on to Zer0′s affections far faster than Rena herself does, that’s for sure.

Rena: It’s nice... I’ve never really had a lot of platonic affection, you know? Fiona, sighing: N-No, that’s not... How do you not see what’s going on, here?? Rena: .........what? Everyone: s i g h s Rena: ????????

They do eventually ask her out when nearly everyone on the team has them to spare them the oblivious misery, cause- once again- Rena sure ain’t gonna do it.

Also cause Gortys has been trying to ask about them dating anyways, so-?? Just do it???

Zer0 still takes a while longer to get the right words to say that fit their haiku format, but the actual confession...? Well, at least it feels like the right note to end an adventure on; seeing her eyes light up, smile breaking free, and hugging the other tight around the waist was good. Great, even!

...Though with Fiona and Rhys temporarily disappeared...who runs Atlas?

Thankfully, Rena knows Cassie personally and has her and another person- Dan, a pilot for Rhys’ personal ship (and once worked under Handsome Jack, as well)- back her up on heading Atlas for a temporary period of time.

Zer0 sticks around for a time, just to make sure a mutiny doesn’t rise up and try to take Rena down. They only back off once her guard-friends from R&D make their way over... Again, just in case.

Zer0 goes back to work not long after that, though makes sure to visit more often. It not only makes them anxious to not know how Rena is doing (if she’s still alive), but also because they’ve started getting used to her touch. Touch starved? Zer0? ....A little.

Starts even exposing her face around her, Rena admits. What they look like? Well, pffftt, she’d never tell~!

otp; i ruv you (Rena/Timothy Lawrence): Oh, it started as a joke...then I was in too deep and now it’s never been better~

Thanks to both of them being workers under the Hyperion brand, they end up meeting sooner rather than later.

Much like Jack, Tim noticed Rena around: sitting in the Hub and people-watching, walking by her lab... Things like that. Didn’t pay too much mind, but then...he got hurt. On his face.

Rena, being the oldest lasting employee not killed off yet by Handsome Jack, is given the old papers for the build of Jack doubles and given some people to work with by HJack himself in order to fix up Tim right.

It’s love at first appointment; she’s gentle, knows what she’s doing, and eventually he’s looking back to the usual. The little smile she gives as he left? ...His heart was racing for an hour after, he swears by it.

He starts visiting her more, after that. Whether because he allowed himself to get hurt or it’s after a mission and he’s got some extra free time before his next one... He hurries to that lab of hers in order to chat.

Befriends the dragons she creates happily. Silver doesn’t bond to him in the same way, but they tolerate him and will let Tim hold them. It’s so cool!!!

Then Rena admitted to him one of her other projects...wanting to create multi-legged cats. Tim was thrilled at the trust, nervous over the project, but Rena assured all would be well. The dragons have done wonderfully, so that will go well, too!

He got the chance to kiss her when she was patching him up again. He’d tried to lean forward, but she stopped him a moment to finish up...then, shyly, asked if he wanted to try that again...? He lit up and they both got into a hasty, messy kiss that had them giggling in delight.

...With that, their unofficial dating started! (Which HJack quickly knew about and considered doing something to one of them to end it, but overall decided if any news got out, he’d actually take Rena as his own and make his doppelganger regret getting into a relationship behind Jack’s back; capiche? Tim nervously agreed.)

Still... Her move to Pandora made him nervous. Especially since his next assignment was on Elpis, so if anything happened...!

Rena kissed his cheek and assured him she’d be fine. It would be very in and out; no need for worry!

When even Jack was troubled by the report that came in later, Timothy was up in arms ready to shoot down some psychos.

HJack: Like, nobody reported her body. Which could be a sign she’s not dead? But it’s Pandora; who knows? Tim, sweating and shaking: Please...just fucking shut. Up.

Backtalking the boss is bold, but Tim is all kinds of done with this news and needs to ditch for Pandora in order to find Rena. HJack allows this more out of interest for the “game” than anything else.

Timothy ends up- more or less- a sort of permanent presence on Pandora while trying to find Rena. Doesn’t much notice or care when Jack’s insanity summons the Warrior...or when he’s taken down. Besides, people spook more easily to hear Handsome Jack died, but see his masked face even still on Timothy’s own.

Not getting answers on where Rena is...stresses him out, though. Makes him bitter, that maybe someone did kill her... He expresses his anger in a bit of murder and then sulks more over how this is turning him into a lesser Jack after all... Makes the guy almost sympathetic.

But with a few years passing, Atlas suddenly rises up out of the crashed ashes of Helios...and if Tim has any hope left for the lost Rena, might as well go there, right?

He scares the shit out of Rhys, walking in looking like Handsome Jack in the flesh. (Not even his secretary tried to stop him, looking like he did; dirty and murderous.)

...Though it’s actually just some resting bitch face and determination. Tim ends up explaining everything and Rhys even more hurriedly explains that she’s not dead!!! In fact, he just sent her over with a group of hired bandits to the WEP! She’s going...to be heading his new R&D department, you know...

Tim almost doesn’t want to hope, but he jolts out of there faster than Rhys or Cassie can stop him and is rushing to the Preserve in hopes to catch her there and maybe help out in the firefight.

Ends up finding her in a car just outside, all tanked up and safe as she directs everyone to where they need to go...but oh shit, handle that on your own for a bit; there’s a guy outside the car. She walks a little closer...and screeches, stumbling back.

Tim: No, no!! Rena!!! It’s me, it’s Ti- Jimothy!!!! It’s me, not Jack! Rena: ......Timothy?

She hesitantly lets him in and Tim at least proves that- despite his appearance- he is definitely not Jack by patting her over, realizing she’s alive, and then kissing her breathless.

Rena explains her situation having gone by “Gremlin” up to this point and pretending to be a psycho on occasion in order to live. The new friends she’s made up until that point. Tim tells her about the years he spent trying to find her, hoping she wasn’t dead.

As self-promised, he cuddles her in his lap for a little while longer, then kisses her again and joins the firefight outside to clear out the preserve.

Hyperion’s fallen, Atlas is a rising venture... Why not? Student loans sure don’t matter anymore.

He largely stays with Rena at R&D; her personal bodyguard and more-official-than-in-the-past boyfriend.

She also makes good on the multi-legged cats, as mentioned in the past. Tim decidedly loves them just as much- if not more- as regular cats.

ot3; ??? (Maya/Rena/Krieg): So hear me out... I will never learn. This will be neverending. I’m just as disappointed in me as you are. Also, Tumblr removing line breaks is the bane of my existence. Fuck this website. ANYWAYS!

Rena...met Krieg, first. In passing. He was a part of the slag experiments, Rena works R&D.... You hear about this sort of thing. She did, with her sharp ears and too-caring-attitude, despite working for the most monstrous corporation in the six galaxies.

Still, she was never able to help him or anyone else... Despite desperately wanting to. Despite catching his eyes once, guilt eating her up from the inside. (A pity-look from another one of them, Krieg used to think.)

They didn’t meet again until much later, during the events of Borderlands 2: Gremlin stuck on Pandora while Maya and Krieg were deadset on dethroning Handsome Jack. Y’know. Her old boss?

Krieg almost doesn’t recognize her when he’s out wandering, but it’s seeing her dirty face that strikes a chord in his sensible side. He remembers her! One of Hyperion’s own... What’s she doing out here? Alone and without company...?

Not that Krieg cares; seeing someone who was in any way involved with hurting him sends him into a fit of rage, trying to attack her with all he’s got! Rena dodges, not understanding...until she realizes who this psycho is...

It’s the worst first meeting- putting his first interaction with Maya in the dirt- as she eventually bursts into tears trying to apologize to him. It startles Krieg to stop, listening to her as she’s pitifully curled up in the dirt, hands up in a show of surrender, apologizing to...him.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you back then!! I wanted to, I really did, but I... I couldn’t! I’m sorry, Krieg, I’m so, so sorry!!!!”

Maya returns to this scene unimpressed, giving a Look to Krieg before helping the still-sobbing Rena. They both take her back to her shambling little base...and Krieg stares at the coat on the wall. The last reminder of who she was...

It occurs to him, then, that they’re in a similar spot. He lost his mind to slag, becoming a psycho, his mind barely together...and Rena is losing her sense of self, too. Going by Gremlin to blend in, faking insanity to blend in...but how long of that before it all becomes too real? Before she changes for good, even without influences like he’d gotten...?

Maya is more than content to help and leave, but Krieg...feels guilty. It’s a rare show of clarity and kindness from the big guy...and that’s when Maya realizes she’s lost the battle before it’s even begun.

They do take down HJack eventually, but frequently stop by to check in on Rena from there on out. Krieg likes poking around and laying on the stolen mattress she has. Maya finds out she’s actually super smart...and it’s fun. It’s nice.

You grow to like- even love- Krieg for his lucid moments. Appreciating his more violent ones for the defense they provide, as well as the enemy-sweeping he can do. Her powers work well with his might.

Add Rena into the mix, it’s brains, balance, and brawn. It works out even better than Maya could’ve predicted....and yeah, she kinda ends up falling for the scientist, too. Would’ve never pegged herself as the polyamrous type, but... She and Krieg share the sentiments.

Rena and Krieg keep each other balanced. Maya doesn’t have time to baby anyone; she keeps going at her own pace. Anyone who wants to keep up has to pull their weight...but Rena is a natural nurturer. When she’s a little loopy, they use a language only they can really understand. (It takes Maya some time to adjust to.) When Krieg gets frustrated, she helps him through it. To get back in touch with his old self. It’s comforting. Very comforting.

Maya and Rena, on the other hand, share a lot of conversation about....anything and everything. Maya talks about her Siren powers and pieces of her life. Rena talks about her own life- a lot more openly- and the science she used to do on Hyperion. How proud she still is of those times. Maya’s endeared to those moments.

It also later comes in handy... When Maya needs to depart from Pandora to go back to Athenas some time later, wanting to further underside her Siren lineage. Pandora only answered so much, after all...

Won’t let Rena or Krieg join, but the two keep each other company in the meantime. Waiting for Maya to come back home.

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