#(with a touch of sandy in his jacket lining)

[larrylimericks]

31Oct22

On Grease, Louis’s frequently doted; He once played the lead, it’s well noted. Now Larries are thriving Cos Harry’s hand-jiving — To LOU, hopelessly still devoted.

[theemporium]

in need of wolfstar smut ideas?? say less!!

wolfstar x reader where wolfstar gets hit on by two girls who are older than reader and reader waits for them to say something to the girls but they kind of like seeing reader get all riled up and when she leaves to go dance they smirk at each other before they see her take off her jacket and walk onto the dance floor where like all the guys start flirting/dancing with her and they make eye contact with each other and JEALOUS BATHROOM SEX SCENE! okay sorry🤭🤭

i found this in my docs from last night? so apparently i came back from a night out and wrote it and don't remember it? anyways lowkey shit but i am too lazy to fix it😭thank you for requesting!🖤

.

It was stupid. 

You had no reason to be insecure about your relationship, and you weren’t. Not in the slightest. You knew that your boys wanted you. You knew you were the one they loved. You knew at the end of the night, you would be the one that would go home with them.

But the girls all over them didn’t seem to know that.

It wasn’t an unusual sight to see girls flanking all over your boyfriends and you honestly couldn’t blame them. They were both absolutely gorgeous in their own rights. Remus with his sandy brown hair, broad shoulders and thick arms. Sirius with his pretty face, charming smile and irresistible charm. 

Your boyfriends were fucking models and everyone in this stupid club agreed, especially the girls that had been giggling and laughing with them for the last five minutes at the bar. 

Now, you weren’t dumb. You knew exactly what game your boys were playing at because they had endlessly teased you on how cute you looked when you were jealous. The way your nose would scrunch up and your eyes narrowed into a glare. The way you looked downright murderous but it was probably one of the hottest looks they had ever seen on you. 

Because they liked getting you jealous, because they liked seeing you possessive and territorial of them. Because your boyfriends were sneaky bastards who liked to find ways of riling you up so your attention was fully on them. 

But tonight? You didn’t want to let them win tonight even if every cell in your body wanted to storm over to the bar, nuzzle yourself between your boys and make it really fucking clear to everyone in this club that they belonged to you.

No. You were going to give them a taste of their own medicine. 

You could feel their eyes on you the second you stood up from your seat at the booth, their watchful gazes intense and familiar. You tried to bite back your smirk as you shrugged off the light jacket you brought with you, dumping it in the booth before you made your way towards the dance floor whilst staying in their line of sight.

The boys had complimented you endlessly on your dress before you had left the flat. The way the colour contrasted against your skin, the way it clung onto your body just the way they fucking adored. And they loved how confident you were in it, the way you felt gorgeous in it. 

However, what they didn’t enjoy was the way everyone’s eyes were on you the second you started dancing to whatever song that was thumping through the speakers. 

Your arms were in the air, your eyes were closed and the smile on your face was pure fucking mischeif as you danced to the song, knowing full well that both of your boyfriends were watching you—knowing that the girls around them were the last thing on their minds at that moment. 

Remus and Sirius were already on edge the second they saw you walked onto the dance floor, but it was a man—a stranger—putting his hands on you that made them move. You barely felt the touch on your waist when they were ripped away from you, the familiar scent of Sirius’ cologne overwhelming your senses as he dragged you against his chest. 

“Sirius–”

“Quiet,” the boy grunted in your ear, a look shared over your head with Remus before they were both flanking you—guarding you—away from the dance floor and towards the bathroom. 

You didn’t even get a chance to open your mouth before you found yourself in the bathrooms, the door locked and your body pressed against the cool ceramic sinks as the light flickered above you. 

“What were you playing at, love?” Remus murmured, his eyebrows furrowed together as he stood in front of you, cupping your face in his hands. 

“Doin’ what you were doin’,” you grumbled with an adorable pout on your lips. “Did you even tell those girls you had a girlfriend?” 

“Doesn’t mean you go shaking that pretty arse of yours like it doesn’t belong to us,” Sirius sniped, his body warm against your side as he moved your hair to the side, head ducking down to press kisses against your shoulder as he moved the strap of your dress out of the way.

“Then they shouldn’t touch what’s mine,” you snapped back, your eyes falling shut as you felt Sirius’ teeth scrape against your sweet spot, but Remus squeezed your cheeks to grab your attention again.

“You’re ours, baby,” he murmured, his lips close enough that if you just shifted your head up a little you could kiss him, but it was impossible to do with the hold he had on you. “And we’re yours.” 

“Are you?” you asked, your eyes narrowed in defiance as you felt Sirius’ hand creeping up your skirt as he pressed lazy kisses against your skin. “Maybe that man out there will actually—”

“Be careful how you finish that sentence,” Remus growled, his eyes darkening as he watched you closely. 

“Think our girl needs a reminder,” Sirius chimed in, his hand squeezing your upper thigh as the fabric of your dress bunched against his wrist. 

Their hands were all over you, touching you and overwhelming you and manhandling you in a way you shouldn’t like but you really fucking did. The way Remus’ kept one hand on your throat, the other with his fingers threaded through your hair to keep your eyes on him. The way Sirius all but ripped the flimsy material of your panties off you, his hand tucked between your thighs as his fingers worked magic you never quite understood. 

You were theirs and they were reminding you. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you moaned, your voice a little whiny as you tried to roll your hips against Sirius’ palm but Remus kept you still. “Please, I—”

“You what, baby?” Remus’ voice was gruff and low, his eyes watching in delight as you squirmed when Sirius slowly pumped one finger in and out of you, the pace too slow and the girth nowhere near enough. “You want more?” 

“Please,” you choked out a sob.

“You want us to make you feel good?” Remus cooed, tugging your hair a little until you let out a whimper. “You don’t want the bastard outside, do you?” 

You shook your head, whining. “No, no—just yous, just want my boys.” 

“Just us, lovie?” Sirius murmured, his lips brushed against your ear. “Want us to fuck you like the dumb slut you are?” 

You nodded helplessly. 

“Say it,” Remus bit out. “I wanna hear you fucking say it or you’re getting nothing.” 

“I want you to fuck me dumb,” you begged, your eyes glossy and cheeks flushed. You were like a rubber band just waiting to snap but they weren’t giving you anywhere near enough to do so. “I’m your slut, just yours.” 

“Yes, you are,” Remus growled before pressing his lips against yours. 

You didn’t even get a chance to reply. Not when Remus had roughly spinned you around, your stomach pressed against the ledge as he bent you over the sink. Not as he shoved the fabric of your dress up, slapping your ass sharply. Not as he slid into your soaking cunt, listening to way you moaned and mewled but gave you no more attention as he turned to Sirius, fingers wound in his hair as he gave him a passionate kiss. 

“Gotta earn it like a good girl,” Remus groaned, listening to the way you whined for attention like a little slut. “Gotta fuck yourself on my cock to show me you fucking deserve it.” 

Your fingers gripped the edge of the sink, your tits falling out of the confinements of your dress as you fucked yourself back on his cock like a desperate whore. But no matter how much you moaned or begged, Remus didn’t give in. 

He didn’t give you any attention. He didn’t let you come. He didn’t do anything but watch you fuck yourself feverishly on his cock, your eyes desperately finding Sirius’ in hopes he would help, but your other boy just watched with a smirk and his hand around his cock. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, gotta put on more of a show for us if you wanna come tonight,” Sirius chided, his eyes gleaming in delight in such a way that you knew it was going to be a long night even after you left this bathroom. “We want this whole fucking club to know who you’re a slut for.”

.

[viking-raider]

The Devil Made Me Do It *Mature* 👻

Summary: Upon receiving a mysterious and anonymous invitation to a Halloween party, a chauffeur takes you to an LA mansion estate for the party; where you meet your mystery man for an All Hallow's Eve you'll never forget.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader + Mystery Character/Reader

Word Count: 9.8k

Warning: M - Secrets, Mystery, Alcohol Use, Scares, Costumes, Flirting, Teasing, Language, Mysterious Behavior, Longing, Fluff, Angst, Co-Workers to Lovers - SMUT - Unprotected sex, Fingering: (F - Receiving), Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Oral: (F - Receiving), Masturbation, Orgasm Control, Praise, Dirty Talk, Possible Corruption and Dub-Con, Light Dom, Aftercare

Inspiration: It’s Halloween and Kinktober! Posting now for Friday, the 13th!

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!

“So, who is your date?” Your best friend asked, glancing at you through the mirror you were using to put the finishing touches on your Harley Quinn costume.

“I don't know.” You answered, turning your head side to side, making sure you'd gotten everything perfect. “I just got a card delivered, stating it was from someone I know and asking if I would join them for an enchanting night.”

“And you're sure it's not from a stalker?” She asked, planting her hands on her hips.

“I'm sure it's not, Maggie.” You giggled at her, shaking your head. “Few people know my nickname, and it was noted on the card. So, I know it's from someone inside our circle of friends. Stop fretting over it.” You told her, getting up and facing her. “If it's someone I don't like in our circle or I'm uncomfortable with, I'll call you.”

“You better!” Maggie huffed, wagging a finger at you.

“Yes, ma'am.” You smirked, giving her a quick hug. “I have to go, they asked me to meet them at nine. Have fun handing out candy and protecting the house from tricksters!” You called out to her, grabbing your jacket and black, cross body, boho bag as you headed out the door.

You were about to unlock your car, when another pulled up at the bottom of the driveway, a matte black Cadillac Lyriq, and a man in a classy, black suit stepped out of the driver's seat, casting his eyes around as if to make sure he had the right address, before settling them on you.

“Are you the young lady that lives here?” He asked, motioning to the two-story house you lived in with Maggie, positioned on a cliff that gave the two of you access to your own private sandy beach on the LA coast.

“One of them.” You answered, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, going into the inside pocket of his jacket to pull out a small, black card and approached you with it held out. “I was told to give you this, then take you downtown.”

Taking the card from him, you read the gilded, blood-red lettering on it: 'My love, please allow me to treat you on this night together. My driver, Marco, will ensure you arrive safely, so we may enjoy our spooky festivities.'

“A lot of cloak and dagger going on with your employer.” You smirked at Marco, touched and amused, as you tucked the card into your bag.

Marco smirked and nodded his head. “Yes, he's having a good time with it. But he's quite eager to meet up with you.” He chuckled, offering his arm to you as you started down the slightly sloped driveway and ushered you to the back passenger-side door, opening it and handing you inside.

You settled in the backseat, pulling your mobile from your bag and texted Maggie. He sent me a chauffeur.

Maggie: Fancy!

During the drive, you snapped some photos of yourself, posting them on your Instagram, wishing everyone; family, friends and fans alike, a happy Halloween before pocketing it and glancing out the window. The quiet hills you lived in, dotted with beautiful homes, started to fall away for the speed and lights of downtown Los Angeles. Traffic thickened, forcing Marco to slow the Cadillac down until it stopped several cars behind a red light.

“Are you allowed to tell me where we're going?” You asked, leaning forward between the front seats. “Or is that to remain a secret?” You smirked as Marco glanced sideways at you.

“I am sworn to secrecy, my lady.” He smirked, winked and got the car rolling again.

Marco drove you across LA to the posh side of the City of Angels, where all of the famous people called home or a vacation getaway. He maneuvered the winding road, until pulling up to a towering, black ornate gate, pausing to enter the pass code, rolling the gate back and permitting you.

“Wow.” You uttered, eyes popping and mouth dropping, seeing the enormous mansion with a circle driveway and bubbling fountain, as you leaned even further between the seats, craning your neck to look out the front window.

It was elaborately decorated; nothing was left for the imagination with its decorations, and it was clear the owner of the home had no issue spending the money on their expenses. Pumpkin lights lined the driveway, the windows at the front of the house were backlit and flickering back and forth between orange and green, with vast and long threads of spiderwebs and cobwebs over them. There were hanging ghosts and skeletons in the trees, an extensive graveyard to one side, with body parts poking out of the mock graves. Everywhere you looked, something caught your eye, impressing you more and more.

“He really went all out.” You chuckled, as Marco stopped at the front door, the stairs leading up to the double doors flanked by massive gargoyles with glowing red eyes.

“Oh, this isn't his home.” Marco answered, releasing his seatbelt. “This is the home of a colleague. He was given an invitation to attend their party here and it had a plus one on it. So, he asked you to join him.” He explained, getting out of the car and opening your door.

“Ah.” You blinked, confused as you took his hand and slipped out of the car, met with a thump of distant music and festivities. “So, how am I supposed to meet my date?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Go inside,” Marco said, motioning to the doors. “The butler at the door will ask you for the code word. It's 'Beetlejuice'. Once you've been admitted, ask them to show you to Lucifer's room.”

“Lucifer?” You purred, amused.

“Yes, ma'am.” He chuckled, nodding. “With that, I wish you a good evening and a happy Halloween.” He said, kissing your hand and getting back into the car.

“Cloak and Dagger much?” You snorted and made your way up the steps. “Oh Christ!” You yelped, as the gargoyles on either side of you came to life, roaring and turning their heads towards you, dropping their bottom jaws open. “Rude.” You panted, composing yourself as the front doors swung open, letting out a flow of music and murmur of voices from inside, and revealing a man dressed as a zombie-butler.

“Madam.” He regarded you, with a thick Scottish accent. “Are you here for the party?”

“I am.” You answered him, making it to the top of the stairs. “I believe the password is, Beetlejuice.”

He bowed his painted face. “Correct.” He turned and lifted a hand to usher you inside. “Please, come in. I'm Mr. Davison, should you require anything during your stay here, please find me.” He told you, closing the doors as the two of you stepped into a grand foyer, two twisting staircases on either side, leading up to a landing on the second floor. On the ground floor were three hallways, one straight ahead between the staircases, where you could see flashing lights with the bump and sway of bodies, and two hallways on either side of you.

“There is one thing you can help with, Mr. Davison.” You said over the noise, turning to face him. “I'm actually a plus one to an invited guest of this party. I was told by the driver my date sent to bring me, to ask to be shown to Lucifer's room.” You explained to him, biting your painted lip, while studying his gray, black and bloody face, butterflies filling your stomach. “Whomever Lucifer is, since he's been secretive about his identity since asking me out.”

Davison smirked, his dark eyes dancing with amusement, clearly knowing who your date and Lucifer was. “Of course, right this way.” He said, before guiding you up the left staircase.

You could feel the vibration of music through the floor as you followed him down the decorated hallway. Each door on either side decorated a different theme, such as Jack and Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas, Jason's mask and bloody machete from Friday the 13th, a Gothic door with an image of Bela Lugosi from Dracula and the doll, Jigsaw, from SAW. Davison stopped before a door, it was red with the silhouette of a pair of angel wings and a flaming halo with black horns.

“Lucifer.” You mumbled to yourself, watching Davison knock loud enough to be heard above the noise of the party, you were distracted by the zombie-butler stepping aside, as the door opened and revealed your date.

“You made it!” They declared to them, excited and relieved that you had come.

“Of course!” You answered, finally looking up at him, only to have your mouth drop open.

Standing before you in a stylish pair of black slacks, a matching vest over a light-gray dress shirt, the first few buttons undone and the long sleeves rolled up his forearms. At first, it wasn't much of an impressive costume, until you studied his face, he wore a touch of black eye-liner, that was slightly smudged, and poised on his forehead was a pair of glue-on horns, well blended in to match his skin color with at touch of red, as if it was a pain for him to have horns breaking through his otherwise angelic appearance.

“Henry!” You squeaked, surprised to see the Brit standing there, imitating Lucifer Morningstar from the DC comic and hit tv show.

“Hey.” He grinned, moving forward and hugging you. “You look great!” He said, stepping back again to look over your Harley Quinn costume, loving the gold, argyle overalls, pink sports bra, pink and blue hair and make-up. “You nailed Harley.” He commented, meeting your eyes again, finally noticing your surprise that he was the one that asked you out. “Oh.” He blushed, carding a hand through his hair.

“Right, I suppose I should explain myself. Why don't you come in?” He suggested stepping aside so you could enter the room. “Do you want something to drink? Davison can get you something.” He said, looking between you and the butler. “Anything you want.”

“We have several Halloween themed cocktails, wines, whiskey and such.” Davison told you, reappearing before the door.

“I'll have one of your cocktails.” You answered, with a small nod. “I'll leave that to your recommendation.”

“I would appreciate a refill as well, Davison.” Henry added in, with a polite nod.

“I'll bring them, presently.” He nodded back, and started downstairs.

“So, you're my date.” You said, entering the room with Henry, finding it was a sitting room that led into a bedroom.

“I am.” Henry smirked, closing the door. “I hope you're not...disappointed.” He said, looking at you with blue eyes that truly wished you weren't.

“I'm not at all disappointed.” You assured him, offering him a sweet smile. “Just surprised.” You confessed to him, pressing your lips together. “We had a couple interactions during the filming of Mission Impossible, but I wouldn't have guessed enough for you to notice me and to ask me out on a mysterious date to a high end LA party.”

“Oh, I noticed you the moment we were in the same room together.” He told you the truth of his feelings for you all over his face. “I tried drumming up the courage to ask you out so many times in those three months. I just kept chickening out, because I didn't think you'd say yes or be interested. So, when my friend sent me an invitation to his party here, you were my first thought on who to bring. But, again, I didn't think you'd say yes. Especially after we hadn't seen each other in a couple months. However, he suggested I send you a note asking you to come and send my driver to pick you up, to see what would happen.”

“You think I would say no to you?” You frowned at him, your brow pinching. “God, I would have said yes in a heartbeat.” You blurted out, shamelessly. “I admit, I wasn't going to come. I was suspicious about the motives and a little worried that it was set up by my stalker.”

Henry's face went blank for a moment, before it filled with worry and how stupid he felt. “I am so sorry. I didn't know you had a stalker, or I would have never been so secretive. I would have just asked you out right. I hope I didn't put you through any anxiety.”

You chuckled at him, shaking your head. “No, you didn't.” You assured him, waving it off. “You just set off my protective roommate, Maggie, who I should probably text and tell who my mystery man is, at some point.” You said, finding the whole thing amusing now.

There was a knock on the door and Davison came in with a small platter holding your and Henry's drinks, a skeleton hand wine-glass with a red shimmer liquid and a black substance around the rim. Beside that was Henry's squat glass of whiskey on the rocks, the ice shaped like a bone.

“Your Vampire's Kiss.” Davison said, as you took your glass. “Spiced rum, Cran-Grape juice, Grenadine and black sanding sugar.” He listed off the ingredients as you took a careful sip.

“Mmm.” You moaned, nodding your head. “Positively enchanting, thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He smiled, tucking the platter under his arm. “Enjoy your evening and the festivities.” He bid you and Henry, then saw himself out.

“Well, would you like to look around?” Henry asked, swilling his drink. “There's dancing and a bar downstairs and I've been told the backyard of the house has quite the surprise.”

“I'm not much for dancing.” You confessed, a shy smile crossing your face.

Henry looked a tad relieved at your words. “That's more than fine. I'm not either.” He chuckled, glancing down into the amber liquid in his glass. “The backyard then?”

“The backyard.” You nodded, smirking with an excited giddiness.

Nodding, Henry polished off his drink and set it on a small coffee table that was in the sitting room. You finished yours and put it beside his, then dropped your bag on the floor under the table. Henry opened the door, letting you enter the thrumming hallway first and followed, taking a key out of his pocket and locked the door behind you both.

“Worried about something?” You inquired, as he pocketed the key again.

“No.” He answered, shaking his head with a blank expression. “Better safe than sorry, I suppose.” He admitted, pressing his hand over the key. “Anyway, let's find out what's in the backyard.” He smiled, offering his hand out to you.

“If it's as good as the rest of the decorations I've seen, it'll be great.” You smiled back, taking his hand.

The two of you descended the spiral staircase you'd come up earlier, Henry paused and looked towards the hallway that led into the room where all the dancing was occurring, then looked at you.

“It's a little warm in here.” He said, even though it was cool in the foyer. “Why don't we go out the front and walk around the side?” He suggested, with an arched brow.

“Sounds fine to me.” You nodded, content with not going through the press of bodies on the dance floor to make it to the backyard.

Giving you a wink, Henry shifted your hand to his forearm and walked you to the entry, nodding to Davison. “We'd like to take a little stroll.” He informed the man, who nodded back and pulled open the double doors for you. “Thank you kindly.”

“So, are you in LA only for the party?” You asked as the two of you went down the steps, while mentally preparing yourself not to get frightened by the gargoyles again.

“No.” Henry chuckled, glancing away from you with a bashful smirk. “I just finished filming a movie in England. The first Enola Holmes movie, where I play Sherlock Holmes.” He explained, looking left and right for a moment, before guiding you towards the left. “I came out here after I finished, to take a little vacation, and suppose they heard I was in town and invited me.”

“A vacation, is that all?” You smirked at him, having a sneaking suspicion the Brit may have had an extra motive for coming out.

“Well,” He droned, rolling his eyes with a guilty smirk. “There may have been a certain lady I hoped to catch up with, while I was in the city.” He confessed, shooting you a glance from the corner of his eye. “Thankfully for me, I had the opportunity to.”

“Mmm, yes.” You nodded, cocking a brow at him and pressing your lips together. “Lucky for you.”

He patted your hand and grinned with boy-ish pride. “He really went all out for decor.” He commented, rounding the corner with you, to get met with tall, manicured hedges covered in webs and skeletons trying to break through and coming at you. The entryway cut into the hedges was covered with chains, obscuring your view of what was on the other side.

“That he did.” You agreed, twisting to look at the graveyard behind you. “I really like that makeshift graveyard over there. Very fright night.” You commented, rather eager to see what Henry's friend had down in their backyard. “Let's go in!” You giggled, moving towards the chain-cover entrance, your hand slipping down Henry's forearm, until you caught his hand and could pull him through after you.

Chuckling, Henry let you drag him into the side yard, finding scarecrows on either side, a bloody butcher's knife through the body of one as it rested on a cross of thin wooden poles and the another hung from the branch of a tree, swaying in the gentle, evening breeze. There were a few more graves, lining the path, leading towards the back of the house.

“Declan Hunley.” You read one of the grave markers. “Born 1879, dead 1910, killed for not looking behind him.” You frowned and looked up at Henry. “That's a weird mess-” You shrieked as the grave on the other side of the path burst open to reveal a gnarled zombie crawling out, growling and hissing, as you scrambled behind Henry in your terror.

Henry's heart rocked in his chest in surprise, instinctively putting an arm out between you and the flesh-eating monster. But a smile soon crossed his lips, guiding you around the zombie, who made decent grabs at your ankles, however made no attempt to crawl out of his grave to follow after you.

“Oh my gosh.” You panted, brushing your multi-colored hair out of your face, with shaking hands.

“It's all right.” Henry cooed, resting his hand on the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles. “I think he's still snacking on poor Declan.” He quipped, smirking at you.

You managed to laugh a little bit, your heart rate slowing down and collecting yourself. “Well, we know what the tombstone meant.” You sighed, shaking your head, feeling foolish for falling for it. “Suckered me.” You chuckled, then cast your eyes out over the backyard. “Oh wow.” You mumbled, eyes widening as your mouth dropped agape.

Henry turned and his brows went up. “Damn. I'll hand it to him, he didn't spare a shilling for all of this.” He commented, taking in the immaculate backyard.

The three sets of double doors leading out from where the dancing and bar was set up were open and brought out the sound of voices and music with them. There was a trickle of people on the patio, which was lit by standing torches of orange, green and red. Sitting on the furniture or huddled around the couple of blazing fire pits, were a few hired staff helping them roast marshmallows for S'mores or brew hot chocolate. Beyond the patio, were tall hedges and party-goers funneling into the opening, stopped only by someone at the entrance, before vanishing into the dark and glowing fog.

“I wonder what they're doing?” You muttered to yourself, brow creasing with curiosity.

“We can find out, if you want?” Henry said beside you, his head cocking to the side to see your face.

“Let's go!” You smiled, clapping your hands and dashing forward.

Henry laughed, amused and touched at your enthusiasm, before following after you. You were stopped at the entrance of the mysterious attraction by a man dressed up in a torn and bloody lab coat. A tall fridge with a clear door stood beside him, filled with green, red and blue test tubes.

“Beware!” The bedraggled doctor wheezed, reaching out to prevent you and Henry from going any further. “There's a deadly pathogen inside the maze!” He panted, looking back and forth between the two of you frantically; as if you had the cure and answer.

“Oh no!” You gasped back at him, bringing a hand to your chest, dramatically, making Henry snort behind you. “It sounds terrible!” You whimpered, trying to hold back a giggle.

“It is!” He agreed, not breaking character, while pulling open the fridge door. “There's only one way to make it through, without succumbing to the pathogen. It's by taking this antidote.” He waved a hand over the display, before taking two out and handing you a red tube and Henry, the blue.

The label on your tube told you the antidote was made from white rum and cherry liqueur, while Henry's was made of Curaçao and SVEDKA, blue raspberry flavored vodka. Uncapping and tossing the red antidote back, the chilled liquid burned down your throat into your stomach, and finally out through your veins. Mixing with the wine you had in Henry's room. Drinking down his own antidote and tossing the empty tube in the provided bin, the doctor finally let you pass. Entering the foggy maze, constructed out of the manicured hedges, stone planters with beautiful and exotic flowers. There were LED lights tucked into the dense and dark-green leaves, flickering in an off-rhythm, giving the already dark and close passages a disorienting feel.

“This is so cool!” You giggled, bouncing on your toes and turning back to look at Henry, who walked close behind you.

“Yeah, it is.” He agreed, glancing behind him, hearing a screech that was all too human, from somewhere else in the maze. “He really went all out for Halloween.” He looked back to you and smiled, finding the two of you had come to a three way.

“Which way should we go?” You asked, looking around, before looking at Henry.

“Hmm.” He hummed, glancing about, then smirked at you. “This way.” He said, jerking his head to the left, taking your hand and led you down the footpath.

“Do you know where you're going?” You asked, frowning at his back.

“I might.” Henry answered, casting a teasing glance over his shoulder.

“Shady Devil.” You teased, smirking at him.

After a couple twists and turns, the two of you came to a dead end that was adorned with a massive marble statue of a half-naked archer, shooting her arrow into the skies and a bench at her feet. There was a square lantern hanging from the tip of the Archer's arrow and two on the bench, casting an eerie, flickering, orange glow in the dark mist that surrounded you. But you were apprehensive about the skeleton sitting on the bench with them.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. But fool me three times, screw that! You thought, eyeing it. But the flickering light and swirl of fog played tricks on you, making it difficult to tell if the skeleton was twitching or not.

“I don't trust it.” You said aloud, and Henry's chuckle filled the enchanted space.

“I wouldn't blame you, love.” He admitted, cautious himself about the authenticity of the skeleton, however taking a gallant step forward to find out. “I think the poor chap died of whatever pathogen is in the maze though.” He quipped, making himself laugh and you rolled your eyes, amused. Reaching the skeleton without it jumping out at him, Henry put his hand on top of its cranium and gave it a gentle shake, causing the rest of the body to rattle on the bench, revealing it to be a prop.

“We're safe from another scare.” Henry declared, picking it up and setting it aside, making room for the two of you to sit down together. “I am really glad you came.” He said, as you sat down beside him. “I know I already said it, but I am.”

“I'm really happy that I came as well.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat already in your cheeks from your alcohol consumption increase, but the cool night helped keep it under control.

Henry grinned, giddy to hear it. “Kal really missed you, after you finished filming your scenes in Norway.” He confessed, chuckling as he fussed with the skull fob on the end of a pocket watch chain he had attached to the front of his vest.

“Oh, Kal missed me, did he?” You purred, amused.

“Yeah, Kal.” He nodded, glancing up at you, his blue eyes dark and holding a gaze that sent a shiver down your back. “Are you cold?” He asked, a playful and coy smirk curling up one corner of his mouth as he moved a little closer to you, offering the warmth of his body.

“I'm either cold or the pathogen is setting in.” You sighed softly, biting your lower lip and tucking yourself into his side, a quiet moan escaping your throat as the weight of Henry's strong arm slotted around your shoulders.

It was all of sudden that you were aware of how close Henry's mouth was to yours, his eyes still trained on your face, waiting—watching—for your reaction. Were you going to push him away or were you going to let him go all the way?

Screw it!

You leaned forward and locked lips with him, feeling Henry smile for a moment before meeting your kiss. His palm moved to cup your nape, fingers curling into your hair and nails grazing your scalp, ever so lightly, drawing another shiver out of you. Henry's other hand moved around to your hip and tugged you closer to him, all but pulling you into his lap. The kiss is slow and easy at first, feeling each other out, testing the waters to see if it was right. Then, as if your minds connected like Bluetooth, the embrace became hungry. Fingers slipped into the armholes of his vest and your back straightened as you made little tugs on the soft fabric, needing to feel him closer against you.

“Henry.” You whimpered into his mouth, lashes fluttering open, hearing his breathing deepen, watching and feeling his chest heave.

His lips brushed yours, the warm puffs of his pants caressing your face as his eyes bored into yours, arms dropping around your waist and squeezing you against his rigid body. He felt the same longing that showed in your eyes, and wanted nothing more than to fulfill it. His palms moved up your back and made for the straps of your overalls, shoving one off your shoulders and unclasping the other. Leaning away for the zipper in the middle, unzip it, making it fall off your shoulders completely, to gather around your waist, giving Henry a nice peek at the black lace, bikini panties you were wearing.

“Mmm.” He hummed, smirking at you with half lidded eyes. “Not shorts?” He rasped, tracing the tip of his finger along the wavy edge, before giving the waistband a playful pop.

You felt a slight heat of embarrassment in the pit of your stomach, but your expression was bashful. “Didn't expect any fallen Angels to sneak a peek down my overalls.” You quipped, playfully pushing a button at the top of his vest open.

“It was far too tempting.” Henry murmured, leaning in to kiss you once more, while his hand caressed your bare side, your skin dancing at the feather light contact, before it grazed the waistband of your panties.

Pausing, he meets your eyes once more, seeking permission. You answered it with a nip at his bottom lip and went in for another heated and heady kiss. With an amused rumble, Henry pushed his hand beyond the barrier, drawing out the magical sound against his mouth, when his fingertips dusted over your throbbing clit. He teased you, only giving you the lightest of touch, as if a ghost was tormenting you from the great beyond. Hands moving to the last three buttons of Henry's vest, you opened his dress shirt and pushed your hands inside of it, finding the burning and hard packed muscles he worked so hard on, every day, dusted with dark hair. You lightly dragged your blue, red and white painted nails down his chest; Henry growled and let out a sharp hiss, giving you a narrow-eyed look.

“Oh!” A voice rang out, before Henry could repay your action. “I am so sorry!”

Almost all of your arousal vanished, you quickly fixed your clothing and tried to act as casual as possible but struggled to meet the other party-goer's eyes. Henry on the other hand, had little qualms, having embodied his costume's entity.

“That's quite all right.” He chuckled, not bothering to button his open shirt, showing off his bare chest and nail marks. “Wrong turns happen.” He smirked, his face morphing into this delighted, sinister expression.

“Yeah, this place is a serious maze.” The man, dressed as a Roman soldier, answered, his startled eyes still moving back and forth between you.

“It is.” Henry nodded, his tone hinting for him to go on his way. “There's many more dead ends like this one, I'm sure you'll find.”

Blinking, then finally getting it, the Roman soldier turned and vanished into the fog and dark of the maze, leaving you and Henry once again alone.

“Well, that was interesting.” He laughed, looking back to you, finally buttoning his shirt.

“Yeah, you can say that.” You answered with a half-hearted laugh.

Biting his lip, feeling the mood had been destroyed and sighed softly. “You want to finish the maze?” He asked, offering you a smile, brows lifted in question. “Or we could go back inside?” He added, brow creasing a little.

You balanced the options, seeing the rest of the maze and what was at the end intrigued you, but finishing what you and Henry started was still a rage inferno between your thighs. “I think it's a bit too nippy out here for what I have on.” You answered, licking your lip and eyeing Henry.

“You know,” He replied, glancing thoughtfully. “I believe you're right.” He said, giving a soft shiver himself, his massive shoulders quaking. “Let's go back inside.” He cooed, fixing his vest and standing to offer you his arm.

Taking it, you retraced your steps back to the start of the maze, nodding to the Mad Doctor, who was restocking the antidotes, quickly moved by the grave with the awaiting zombie at the side of the house, and were met yet again by Davison at the door, as he opened them to greet you.

“I hope you found the attractions and festivities to your liking?” He inquired, shutting the doors behind you.

“We did.” Henry nodded, smiling at you. “He went all out for his Halloween party. It's quite amazing.”

“Yeah, it's gotten my heart beat up several times.” You chuckled, smiling back. “Not a party I'll forget.” “I'm pleased to hear it, and so will he.” Davison smiled, pleased.

“We're going to retire upstairs for a bit.” Henry informed him with a wink, leading you towards the staircase. “Have a good evening, Davis.”

“And you.” He called back.

“No.” He chuckled, smiling down at his bare feet. “It is rare. But this isn't really an occasion to bring him along. So, I left him with a good friend.”

“Mmm.” You hummed, leaning back against the bed's footboard to unlace your shoes. “I suppose not.” You agreed, flexing your toes and glancing up at him. “You want to help me?” You asked, gesturing to your overalls. “You seemed quite the expert out in the maze.” You quipped, impishly.

Pursing his lips and giving you a hungry look, Henry strode forward, closing the gap between you easily with his long legs, and took the zipper between his fingers again, but now, he took his time. You watched him work the clasp gently down the molten-gold fabric, revealing more and more of you as it reached its end, between your legs. Henry smirked at your panties, discovering they were not only sheer, but sported a nice, growing wet patch.

“Do you like it when I touch you?” He asked in a breath voice, nimble fingers moving to your straps, caressing the skin beneath it, before flicking it open, the overalls slipping to one side.

“You don't see me stopping you, do you?” You quipped back, as the last strap fell from your shoulder and your outfit started to slip down your body.

He shook his head, hands moving up to the buttons of his shirt, but your hand came up to brush them aside, intent on doing that yourself. Pushing each black button through their hole with painstaking care, knowing Henry was impatient about picking up where you left off outside. You moaned softly, tugging the tucked in fabric from the waistband of his pants and pushing his shirt off his shoulders and arms. You were slow to pull his belt free of their loops, admiring the growing bulge at the front of his slacks. With his belt free, you curled your fingers around the waistband of his pants and boxer briefs, only to be stopped by Henry's hands grasping your wrists.

“What?” You frowned, looking up at him.

“Top.” He answered, motioning to it with his head. “Off.”

“I think I'm a little more naked than you are.” You stated, raising a brow at him.

“I'll be naked the moment you pull my pants and underwear down.” He countered with a smirk.

You took a deep breath, then nodded. “Fair.” You chuckled, pulling your hands away to remove your pink sports bra. “Better, you devil?” You teased, tossing the article of clothing over his head.

“Much, my little joker.” He rasped, cupping one of your breasts in his hand and rubbing its hardened nub with the pad of his thumb. “You can finish your task now.” He said, leaning in to kiss you.

“Mm, thanks.” You mumbled against his mouth, hands blindly finding their way back to his waist, tugging at it, and trying not to be distracted by his lips and hands working their magic on you. “Bat above, you're evil.” You whimpered to the pinch he gave your breast, sending a tingle to your still clothed clit. Henry turned his head, lips brushing the helix of your ear. “I'm not Lucifer for nothing, my dear.” He whispered, allowing his accent to dip and deepen.

Your knees weakened and you let out a breathy whimper. “Good lord.” You gulped, grasping the back of his arms for support.

“I'd rather keep his name to a minimum.” Henry quipped, with a playful attempt at a wink.

“Classic.” You giggled, tilting your head back to brush your lips against his stubbly jaw. “Apologies, Prince of Darkness.” You teased, hand trailing down his torso to his semi-hard cock, closing your fingers around the heated flesh.

Henry hissed in your ear, hooked an arm around your waist and snagged you against him, lifting you off your feet and moving around to the side of the bed, setting you down on it. He paused for a moment, to turn out the lights, then joined you again, where you had fixed yourself correctly on the comfortable mattress and about to slip your undies off.

“No.” He rumbled, slipping between your legs and gently pushing your hands away. “Those are mine.” He informed you, taking a hold of the delicate fabric and started to slip them off. “Oh, you smell so tasty.” He cooed, catching a whiff of your glistening folds, tossing your panties aside and leaning closer with a lick of his lips.

Gulping, you melted back against the pillows as Henry's mouth closed around your slick, vibrating your sensitive need with a rumble of carnal lust. You pawed at the duvet beneath you, rolling your hips against his working mouth, tongue parting your folds to collect the dripping nectar flowing from your cavern. You whimpered and squeezed your thighs against his head, feeling his horns brush your heated and trembling skin, building the numb and tingling sensation at the pit of your stomach.

“Oh, Henry!” You whimpered, a hand moving into the curls at the back of his head. “Oh, plea-fuck!” You cried out, back arching as Henry pressed two heavy fingers onto your swollen pearl, rubbing at it in a rhythm to his mouth and drawing you over the edge swiftly.

Blinded by your orgasm, you didn't notice the figure entering the room with you and Henry for a moment. But caught the moving shape at the foot of the bed, slowly coming down and through your blurred vision, it paused, before shifting to the chair in the corner.

“Henry.” You panted, the heightening tone of alarm in your voice.

“Ssshh.” He hushed you, slowly kissing his way up your seething body until his face was nuzzled between the valley of your bosom, tasting the thin layer of exertion on your burning skin. “It's all right, love.” He heaved, his breath raising goose flesh in its wake.

“But-” You started to protest, shaking your head and trying to focus on the figure seated in the corner, feeling their eyes on you. “There's some-” You tried to warn him breathily, as his mouth encompassed one of your breasts. “Someone's in-”

“I know.” He moaned around your taut areola, before tilting his head for a second to glance at your strange guest. “It's just Gus.” He purred, a naughty smile on his lips and returned back to his worship of your body.

“August?” You whimpered, brows furrowing at his name and Henry's intent suckling. “Henry.” You sighed, eyes fluttering shut and hands pressing to Henry's broad back, letting go and getting washed away with the moment.

Smiling from his vantage point in the corner, the chair angled just right, August watched you and Henry in bed. He knew the two of you, having worked on a couple projects with Henry over the years and met you during the filming of Fall Out. When Henry told him he intended to ask you to the party, his interest and intrigue was set into motion, intent on having some of you for himself, informing Henry of this, and having Davison keep a close eye on you and Henry. So, upon hearing the two of you had been found canoodling in the maze, then scampering back upstairs to Henry's room, Davison rushed to find his boss and informed him that love was in the air between the two of you.

August left where he was entertaining in his study and moved upstairs to Henry's room, using a master key he had for every room on his estate and slipped into the darkened room, like a stealthy panther stalking its prey. Removing and turning off his light up Purge mask, he found you sprawled out on the bed, whimpering Henry's name, while his skillful mouth ate you out, like it was one of the Brit's decadent cheat meals. Hovering in the doorway between the sitting room and the bedroom, waiting—watching...you slip off the cliff of your orgasm, crying out and writhing as you fell; then moved to the bottom of the bed, to reach out and touch Henry's foot.

Alerting him that he had shown up.

He repressed a chuckle, while you tried alerting Henry to his presence, and moved towards the chair, making himself comfortable. But Henry reassured you that it was perfectly all right. It was just your good friend, August, in the room with you, and you had no reason to fret. He opened the front of his rough and semi-black jeans, lifting his hips off the chair just enough to push his pants and briefs down, allowing his rigid cock to spring free of the tight confines and rest heavily against the white dress shirt he had on. He closed his fist around the slick head of his shaft, a deep rumbling moan boiled in his throat as he slowly started to stroke himself, eyes locked on you and Henry intertwining together in bed.

Your quivering legs locked loosely around his thick thighs, while Henry's mouth was like a suction cup against the column of your throat, working in tandem to his steely manhood rubbing against your heated folds, coating the taut and veiny flesh with your sweet essence. Your quiet whimpers and mewls spurred on both men, putting cracks in August's usual calm and controlled demeanor, and pushed Henry to impatience, struggling with his will to warm you up, before diving deep into you, headfirst.

“Take her.” August rasped, abandoning his cock for a second to open his shirt and toss it aside, not wanting to soil it any more than the few wet spots of pre-come, and returned to pleasuring himself.

Henry snapped a look over his shoulder, face flushed and sweaty. “She's mine, Gus.” He hissed at the other man, eyes a dark cobalt with lust and feeling territorial.

“I belong to no one!” You wheezed, dizzy and drunk from Henry's attention.

A smirk pulled across both men's lips, and Henry looked down at you, brushing damp and colorful strands of hair off your sweaty forehead and placing a gentle kiss to the bridge of your nose.

“Of course, my love.” He cooed at you, stroking the side of your face with the back of his fingers. “We know you don't.” He said, kissing the corner of your mouth. “My apologies.” He whispered against your lips.

You sighed against his mouth and shook your head again, lifting your heavy arms to tangle your fingers into his hair. “I want you.” You murmured, nudging your nose against his, legs squeezing his to pull him in closer. “Please, Henry.” You gulped, eyes fluttering open to gaze up at him.

“As you wish.” He replied quietly, pulling back slightly and slipping a hand between your bodies, grasping and stroking himself for a moment, before lining his weeping, heart-shaped tip with your glistening honeypot. “Oh god, you're so snug, Bug.” He purred, easing himself in, bit by bit, as he leaned back over you, bracing himself on his elbows, loving how you wrapped around him.

“Shit.” August grunted, fixated on Henry entering you, your folds sealing around his girth like a tailor-made glove, while trying to picture his own manhood in its place, squeezing his shaft in an attempt to replicate it.

Henry's thrusts were short and measured, rocking into you with an easy pace, almost matching the beat of the music that was bleeding through the floor downstairs. It was both what you wanted and also drove you nuts, wanting him to drive you through the bed, to turn your insides to pudding. You rocked your hips in-tune to his, one hand clawing down his sweat drenched back to dig into the meat of his bum and thrust your other hand between your bodies to find your neglected clit.

“Don't you dare come.” Henry growled at you, pressing his body down on yours, trapping you against the mattress and immobilizing your hand from pleasuring yourself. “Not without me.” He panted, holding your gaze.

You were caught off guard for a moment, before arching an amused brow at him. “Fine.” You smirked, giving him a nice pat on the butt.

“Good girl.” He purred, capturing your lips and shifting his weight again, enabling you to stroke your pulsing clit, toes curling and walls quaking around Henry's cock, milking it. “How are you doing over there, Gus?” He chuckled, shooting the American a glance over his shoulder.

“Could be better.” August grunted back, slumped a little in his seat, working his cock as he continued to watch, the sound of Henry's cock moving inside of you filled the room with your soft whimpers and moans, it was like a perfect orchestra to his ears, making his balls tight, but he still wanted you for himself.

Henry brought his lips to your ear. “He's jealous.” He whispered in a roguish tone.

“Mmm.” You moaned back, half listening to what either of them were saying, drunk on the feeling of Henry inside of you and the pressure you were applying to your tender pearl, drenching you both even more to create a wet spot on the bed sheet beneath.

“She's getting fucked out.” August smirked, hearing your numb moans. “And you haven't even let her come again.” He chuckled, using his free hand to massage his heavy sack, growling deep in his chest and pressing his head against the back of the chair.

Henry felt his own loins tingle and spasm, begging to be unloaded inside your tight, hot core, which only drew him in with each thrust, attempting to hold him inside for your own salvation. Henry groaned, thrusting forward and almost losing himself to the pressure.

“I can't hold back anymore, Hen.” You mewled up at him, breathless and spent. “Please.”

“Me neither, love.” He sighed back, nuzzling the side of your sweaty neck for a moment, before slowly slipping free. “You wanna come with me, babe?” He panted, pulling up on his knees, but kept one elbow braced beside your head.

Moving a hand between your heaving bodies, Henry gently shoved aside your sluggishly moving hand from your mound, bringing it to his mouth and gently sucked on your honey saturated fingers, savoring the heady taste. With your hand clean, Henry took a hold of himself, stroking his length and rubbing his tip against your overstimulated folds at the same time, drawing out soft whimpers and moans. Your hands kneaded his sides, while you twitched and quivered beneath him, eyes fluttering in the back of your lids with streaks to tears going down your temples.

“Oh...Henry!” You hiccupped in short gasps, licking your parched lips. “I'm-m s-so c-close!” You gulped, nudging your face against his, blindly seeking his lips.

“I am too, love.” He wheezed back, increasing the friction. “Come with me.” He whispered, meeting your lips in a breathless kiss.

It was easy, with how close the pair of you were, so you just let go. Gushing over Henry's cock and drenching the sheets even more, while Henry jerked rope after rope of his hot seed over your glistening folds and heaving stomach, making your skin sticky with each expulsion of his loins. August watched with concupiscent awe, biting into his bottom lip and digging a shoe heel into the expensive rug at his feet, as his own orgasm peaked, flowing over his jerking fist and staining the black fabric of his jeans.

You, Henry and August let out a collective sigh as your climax waned. Henry's weary arms snaked around your body, while his body slowly tilted sideways, collapsing onto the mattress with an exhausted grunt and holding you to his chest. Sighing against his collarbone, your eyes fluttering shut, spent and sedated.

A touch to your back told you, you'd fallen asleep, stirring you back to the world of the living and from the warm bubble of Henry's body. Expecting to see Henry staring at you, you opened your eyes to his sleeping face and the deep puffs of his snores.

“Right here, gorgeous.” A deep timber whispered into your ear.

Turning your head, your eyes met August's, he was leaning over you, a smile plastered on his handsome face, and his hand still stroking the length of your back. “Gus?” You mumbled, sleepily blinking up at him.

August tapped a finger to his lips and cast his eyes to Henry. “Ssshh, don't wake him, sweetheart.” He cooed at you, sweetly. “He needs his rest.” He told you, before helping you carefully untangle from Henry's embrace and sit up on the edge of the bed.

“What are you doing, August?” You asked, looking up at him, even though you had your suspicions.

“Helping you clean up.” He answered, dipping his hand to your stomach, reminding you of Henry's dried release, that was still there. “I started a nice, warm shower for you.” He explained, taking your hands in his and pulled you to your feet, stretching your sore muscles.

“Sure, Gus.” You giggled, letting him guide you around the bed and into the bathroom, the sound of falling water filling your ears and blanket of warm steam wrapping around you as it filled the space. “You're only helping, so you can have your chance.” You smirked, not so out of it during your lovemaking with Henry to forget August's jealousy he was missing out.

August laughed, unconcerned of sound now that the door was closed. “So perceptive of you, Sugar.” He smirked, opening the door of the shower stall for you. “Unless you'd rather I leave you and Henry be.” He added, as you entered the shower, cocking a brow at you.

“Hmm.” You hummed, stepping under the pleasant spray of the showerhead, letting the water wash over you, before glancing at August over your shoulder. “Well, it would be a lie, if I said I hadn't thought about what it would be like to be with both of you.” You smirked, eyes dancing with mischief. “And Hen and I already had our fun.”

“You impish, little jester.” August growled, discarding the remains of his clothing and joined you, hugging an arm around your waist and pressing his chest against your back, his mouth finding your neck, the hairs of his immaculate mustache tickling your wet skin.

“Christ, August.” You moaned, his rock-hard manhood pressing against your butt. “I-” Your breath caught in your throat, August's hand closing around your mound, fingers oh-so-delicately caressing your pearl, waking it from its soreness.

“You what, Sugar?” He purred into your ear, nipping at its rim almost painfully. “Tell me.” He insisted, free hand coming up to cup your jaw and pull your back to rest against his shoulder.

“I want you.” You whimpered, chewing on your bottom lip and pushing up on your toes. “Take me, Gus.” You begged him, grinding against his manhood.

Smirking, August took a step forward, until you were trapped between him and the warm, smokey-gray subway tile of the shower wall. He spread your feet and gripped your hip with one hand, grasping his shaft in the other and teased your silky folds, only slipping just his tip between them to rim your passage, loving the feel of your quiver.

“So desperate for me to fill you up.” He chuckled, kneading your hip.

“August, please.” You huffed, still overstimulated from being with Henry and unable to take August's teasing. “Please, I need you inside of me.” You moaned, legs wobbling as he pushed the first half of his manhood into your ruined cavern, your knees almost giving out, had it not been for him and the wall holding you up.

“Stuff me.” You told him, mindlessly.

“I intend too, Sugar.” August smirked, gripping both of your hips and used them as leverage to ease the rest of himself inside of you, still taking his time, despite your continued begs and mewls. “You take me so well, sweetheart.” He panted, once he was settled, engulfed inside your pocket. “Henry did so well, opening you for me.” He chuckled, pressing a palm to the tile above your head and drew almost completely out, then drove back in, hammering into your sweet and sore spot, drawing out a cry from your lips that echoed in the stall.

“August!” You arched your back into his thrusts, cheek pressed against the wall and eyes squeezed shut. “Oh god.” You wheezed, breath fogging the glossy tile. “You feel so good, Gus.” You told him, your voice hardly above the sound of the shower head. “So good.” You mumbled to yourself, nursing your walls around his cock, feeling every ridge and vein as you did and every driving force of him moving inside of you.

“Oh, you're not going to last for me, are you, Sugar?” He cooed, stroking the back of your wet hair and squeezing the nape of your neck. “Just too fucked out.” He hummed, sensing and watching your body tremble as you did your best to fight off your orgasm. “That's all right, princess.” He said, kissing the top of your head and increasing the pace of his thrusts. “Let go.” He instructed you, locking an arm around your waist. “Come all over my cock, gorgeous.” He egged you on, until he felt your body quake and tense, a hot rush around his frenzied shaft.

“There you go, very good.” He praised you, lining kisses over your shoulder and neck, nuzzling his face there as he buried himself deep inside and let loose, pumping his load into your core and painting your walls, unlike Henry.

The two of you stood there for a long time, supporting each other against the shower wall with the water still raining down over you. Until August's skilled ears twitched to a squeak above the patter of water on the hexagon tiles and turned his head. A smirk pulled across his lips as he spied Henry through the clear glass of the shower doors, coming into the bathroom.

“Did we wake you, Hank?” He quipped, as the Brit stepped into the stall with you, a gush of chilly air invading the warm space, making you shiver against August's chest.

“Yes and no.” He replied, dipping his head under the shower head, soaking his curls. “I woke up, when I realized our little Harley Quinn wasn't in bed with me any longer and heard some of your shower fun.” He informed him, shaking his head, to flick the curls out of his face, and moved to stand beside August, looking down at you. “Looks like you're having a nice, little shower, love.” He smirked, seeing the expression of sedated and satisfied exhaustion on your face.

“Mmm.” You hummed back, blinking up at him.

Both men chuckled at you, shaking their heads.

“You look after her, I have to piss.” August told Henry, slipping free of you and eased away, wanting to make sure you didn't fall without his support, before stepping out of the shower to use the toilet.

“Are you all right?” Henry asked, helping you sit down on a built-in, shower bench.

“I'm fine.” You answered, resting back against the wall. “Just didn't expect all of--” You motioned around sluggishly. “This—when I got your mystery invite to the party.”

Henry smirked, grabbing a bath sponge and a bar of vanilla, sandalwood and cardamom soap, from a recess in the shower wall. “That's a fair point.” He nodded, soaping up the sponge and grabbing one of your arms. “In all honesty, I didn't intend this to happen either.” He admitted to you, gently lathering up your skin.

“Well, I did want to be with you. I just didn't expect August to actually join us.”

“The devil made me do it!” August chimed in, coming back into the shower and started to wash. “But I told you, I intended to, if you wooed her.”

“Wooed me!” You huffed, rolling your eyes. “So, the two of you talked about this?”

“Henry needed some prodding in getting the courage to send you the invite.” August informed you, smirking at Henry, who blushed and looked at neither of you. “But we're both quite happy you said yes.”

“That's true.” Henry nodded, moving the sponge across your shoulders, massaging them as he did. “I hope we didn't push you or anything.” He said, biting his lip as he looked you over.

You let out an amused laugh, tipping your head back to look up at the two men, who regarded you. “It's a bit late to be asking that, isn't it?” You inquired, shaking your head, before relaxing and growing serious. “But no, you guys didn't do anything I didn't want or consent to. Even though I was surprised by August sneaking into the room, like some sort of spy.”

Henry and August looked at each other, an expression of acknowledgment between them for a quick moment, before it passed, and they looked away.

“Suppose we should get back to the party.” You said, as Henry finished helping you wash.

“No.” August shook his head and rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. “The party ended a short while ago. The guests that are staying over, are in their rooms and those that weren't, have long been ushered off the property.” He informed you, causally.

“Just us, darling.” Henry winked, moving into August's spot to shower himself, carefully removing his devil horns. “Do you want to stay here with us, or would you rather I call Marco to take you back home?” He asked, cocking a closed eyed brow at you.

You weighed the options, watching Henry wash, water cascading around and along every groove and line of his muscular body, activating a tingle deep in your exhausted and sore body. “No need to bother him so late.” You finally answered, eyes shifting to August, who was grabbing towels.

Showered and dried off, You, Henry and August filed back into the bedroom. August called Davison up with a phone in the sitting room, having him bring up a few bottles of water for you all, which you were thankful for, since you were parched. Quenched, you climbed into bed, burrowing down under the sheets in the middle, while Henry and August got in on either side of you. Henry looped an arm around your waist, snuggling you against his chest and August lounged close to you, on his back, allowing you to reach out and lay your hand on his chest.

“Good night, my love.” Henry whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Sleep well, Sugar.” August cooed, patting your hand gently, and kissed your knuckles.

“Good night.” You hummed, letting your fatigue take a hold of you. “Happy...Hallo-ween.” You mumbled, dropping off, happily cocooned between them.

[shinakazami1]

TBG Shortfic

I wanted to write the meeting after the years I've mentioned on my TBG Davey ask blog (@cake-bread) in this post. It's nearly 2k words long and I do wodner if I should start posting my drafts on my Ao3 Jeueuehw but i hope someone will enjoy this! If you do pls let me know huehue

===

For Davey, the small game con felt like a nice change of pace.

He was happy that the game reception was good but he didn't miss the sense of being overwhelmed and constantly perceived. The days when he still had the energy to respond to emails and comments about his work were over. That didn't mean he wasn't grateful - quite the opposite. After all the delays, seeing the game published and still appreciated helped with his worry of him losing touch with his work.

But he didn't like how much his face was tied to the game. He wished he never uploaded the trailer on his comedy page. Or that he never mentioned it to anyone. Ever since the release of the original mod, TSP became him. He felt a bit sad that his love project made Kevan to be known only as The Narrator. It used to be funny a decade ago. And while Kevan agreed to work again with them and seemed happy, he did seem a bit tired.

At least he didn't judge Davey for destroying passion for his work.

He was worried he lost his own passion, too. Until he went to the con.

The first day went very well. In there, he felt like just a gamer once again. Except for his buds that invited him there, nobody else seemed to recognise him.

It was nice to just be seen as another fan of the media and nothing more.

There were no questions about why the release took so long. Or about what the Bucket meant. Or what got him inspired to create Gambhorra'ta.

Or if The Beginner's Guide would ever get an ultra deluxe release, too.

He sighed. That question was on his mind for a while. But he didn't trust anyone with getting to those games. Especially if it meant changing the engine as it did with TSP - it would completely miss the point of Coda choosing Source. And just trying to add or change any visuals wouldn't work at all.

He didn't even want to consider recording new lines.

Davey sipped on the soda in the red plastic cup and tried to see where he could leave it. With no table feeling safe or stable enough, he decided to go away from the retro game stand and went to his bud, asking them to hold the cup for a moment. Once they pointed him in the bathroom direction, he went there and stared at the long line.

He didn't understand how gamers could share the same bladder but that sight made him wonder if it was why most irl gamer meetings were speedrun related.

Seeing that the line didn't move in 3 minutes, he decided to get some fresh air.

He didn't know how much different it would feel than the dense air inside. It felt like a metaphor for his life but he didn't really have the mind space for figuring that one out. Instead, he focused on how dry his mouth felt, reminding him why he wasn't drinking sweet drinks as often anymore.

He noticed that a few people left the building and went to some sort of a shop in the distance. Based on their age and the alcohol restriction, he could figure out what they were buying, even if he couldn't see the writing.

'I really should go to the eye doctor finally', Davey thought.

The darkening cloudy sky felt like a timer. With no umbrella or even a jacket to cover himself with, the trip to the store seemed a bit risky. But for a small price of a beer or two, his friend would gladly come for him with the umbrella they had. And since he acknowledged the desert in his throat, he knew it would drive him crazy for the rest of the day. And that soda would only get rid of any droplet left on the sandy land.

As he walked towards the oasis, he looked back at the school building the con was taking place at. It reminded him of April 2009 and...

He decided to speed up. He really didn't like how his mind kept shifting to Coda. He thought he was doing so well of late. Everybody told him to move on.

Even he couldn't replay the games anymore.

Feeling a raindrop hit the tip of his nose just as he reached the shop felt like a sign. Whatever it was trying to point him to, he refused to acknowledge.

He looked at the prices of the water bottles and took the smaller one, feeling his wallet screaming. But so was his throat - if he didn't save it soon enough.

He didn't expect the line to seem longer than the bathroom one. He thought it was fortunate that it was due to guys coming in packs. He soon felt disappointed, seeing each one pay for their own drink. What happened to splitting the bill? Nobody liked to wait. So it felt counter productive, especially since this line felt more impatient than the last one.

Maybe it was due to the sound of the rain drops falling on the shop windows, reminding everybody of the weather. In just a few minutes, the school was not visible behind the wall of water. And more people seemed to come in, just to find some nice shelter.

Davey stared at the cigarette packages and tried to read anything off the labels. He knew his eyesight was getting worse but he didn't know it had gotten that bad. For the past 3 years, he spent most of the time behind a screen. Even if he finished most of his work on the game early in the development, he tried his best to support the rest of the crew. So he didn't really notice the change.

He snapped out of his thoughts when the cashier repeated it was his turn. The crowd felt only growing so the line moving felt like a minor thing.

The instant he got the receipt, he opened the water bottle and started drinking. He knew his throat wouldn't be grateful and would still feel dry after it but he wanted to forget about it for a moment. Just like he wanted to forget-

"David?"

Davey tried to dry the water stain off his lap with the receipt to no avail.

An overpriced water bottle, wasted. It brought the storm into the shop.

But something else brought it into his heart.

Even if his name was a version of David, he wasn't one. It was the same like Sam not always standing for Samuel or Samantha. It was a normal assumption to have and he just corrected people on that.

There were a few exceptions, though. And life just couldn't help but torment him about one of them that day.

He was about to turn over when he felt a hand brush his leg. Frozen, he watched it pick up the water bottle and stand by his side.

The last time they did that was at the bus stop over a decade ago. It was the last time they saw each other.

Coda felt just a tiny bit taller now. But the same cold aura was still there.

And the distance felt too small but too big at the same time. Memories felt within reach while longed words got stuck in an already dry throat.

He could only make himself stare at the face he thought he had already forgotten.

His mind felt both empty and full at the same time. Images of every rendition his mind made of this scene played before his eyes but none of them could match the dream-like feel of reality.

There was no anger, no disappointment. There was no shouting, laughing or running away.

Somehow, just standing just like that, side by side, never crossed his mind.

It felt as if he still had a chance to ask if he could stay over for that night. Maybe everything wouldn't turn out to be as tragic then.

He stared at the face but felt like he couldn't see it. As if his gaze pierced through it, not noticing the details or seeing the disappointed face he drilled in his mind after reading the message in the Tower for the first time.

He felt something on his right hand. He quickly looked over and saw a woman offer him a handkerchief. Without thinking, he took it ,thanked her and started to rub on the wet stain. His moves were automatic and he wondered if he wouldn't wake up in a moment with a saliva stain on his pajama pants for the third night in a row. Sleeping in one bed with 3 men was not the most comfortable but it would be way better than whatever nightmare he was having.

But if it was a dream, he had to get the courage. His actions didn't matter in these, after all.

Unfortunately, he knew it was a lie. Reality liked to show its sense of comedy timing and he knew he was the punchline.

"Do you have any socials?", he said, looking back at the other man.

He instantly cursed himself for not going on any other line from the 200+ ones he kept coming up with for the occasion. It still wasn't the worst one he could have said but that didn't make his chest any lighter.

It felt like a test he didn't know the answers to.

Fortunately, life did hold all the pieces.

"Yeah."

"What are they?"

He didn't know how he had the confidence to keep speaking. Maybe this was the way his throat was thanking him for earlier, even if it felt as if it was burrowed in dirt at that moment. He himself felt like he was drowning in some quick sand, getting consumed by the growing anxiety that somehow didn't show up on his face.

"Give me your phone."

The witnesses probably would think that Coda was some sort of a bully. He caused the other man to spill a drink, freeze in place and then put in his pin code and give away his phone without any discussion.

He couldn't see the screen. With how long Coda was typing and looking over at him every now and then, he wondered if the man opened the notes app and wrote anything.

Maybe that was the only way Coda could talk to him anymore.

But he felt there was no backing off. He was ready to face whatever he would be shown. He told himself so.

And yet, somehow, a locked Twitter account with the word 'pending' on the right was not something he expected to see.

Nor did he expect to feel a hand pat his shoulder.

Something about the casualty felt like a stab in the heart.

He would prefer to be yelled at. Instead, the sound of a bell ringing and the door closing filled his ears. He watched Coda put his hood on and join the school behind the waterfall.

Davey did expect that he would in the end get recognized on the con.

He didn't know if he would have preferred being asked about the significance of the Fern or the whole fever dream he had just experienced.

He went to buy another water bottle and a beer for his friend. He couldn't focus on the rest of the con, searching for a familiar figure.

Two days later, the pending button changed into the following one.

He didn't expect to get a 'Hey.' the same day.

Nor that he would ever again be able to say 'Hi, Coda.'

The rainy weather was no more.

But the sun was shining a bit too brightly.

===

[lunesprite]

GiTM Characters - as Tom Cardy Songs

A Good Enough Tm List.

Hello and welcome to a very silly list I decided to make this morning. It is now a full 12 hours later and my vision must be shared. 

Tom Cardy is fantastic, and even without this silly list, I do think y'all should check him out! But keep in mind, a lot of these songs are suggestive/NSFW for various reasons, so maybe put in some headphones first. 

Also, I make these silly suggestions, every single one of them, out of immense love for these characters, so if one seems mean… I am ragging on them. I am pulling on their rays in the playground or whatever. 

I love each and every one of them, scouts honor. And with that out of the way….

Wonderful @/venomous-qwille's Ghost in the Machine Cast - specifically as Tom Cardy songs only.

Part 1: I Will Not Be Taking Feedback I Am Correct: 

Clip.exe: Red Flags

I love Clip.exe so so much it is unreal. He's a freak /endlessly affectionate. If i am feeling particularly silly with him, then i can offer a second for young, baby Clip: Monster Truck. Either way, I am kissing him.

Sanii: Hot Shit

He is. I would pay an inconceivable amount of money to see this. I want to see him performing this in a silly glittering red jacket to try and cheer Misuta up.

Nova: The Ballad of Smokin' Joe Rudeboy

This beautiful, perfect man. Important context: Fool is singing it, narrating our wonderful tale, and Nova is performing his ass off and having a blast. He is wearing a cowboy hat and yes, one of his rays is sticking through it. I love Nova. I am kissing him right on his face.

Noon: Artificial Intelligence

He would sing this song and you wouldn't even need to ask him to.

y/n: Repress it!

Look at that, we get a song too. :) Almost forgot to, tbh.

Part 2: I Got My Reasons:

Soleil: Read Between the Lines

Can I picture him singing it? No. I will not pretend. There are certain lines, however, I absolutely can. He very nearly falls into the 'Didn't Wanna Leave Anybody Out' category, but I just. I needed to manifest this.

Fool: Perception Check

You know, I don't think I need to explain this one.

Sunspot: My Secret Shame

Oh darling Spot, it might very well be there's another song that fits you better, but imagining this one, which is so sweet and harmless but absolutely on point for something that WOULD be his shame, made me almost break down laughing at work.

Misuta: All the Stupid Things I've Ever Done

:)

Sandman: Level Clear!

Sandy is kind of riding the line between this category and the next, but like. I give him this one because I cannot wait to see what this little man has going on, and I really wonder what his life has been like! I just know there's trauma under that hat.

Harvest: About 8 hours

There was another song here but this was a late suggestion that I realized was simply. Too correct.

Part 3: I Didn't Wanna Leave Anybody Out and By This Point I Was Invested And Too Proud to Back Down (I Will Take Cardy Suggestions Here):

This section is particularly silly. 

Ruin: Love Language

The angle. I confess: I forGOT them. I am a fake fan. But I come with a secondary song for Ruin.

Call your Mother (just links now because there is a 10 video limit woopsie): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AV5HKWRMyAY

Profanity aside - and the funniness of imagining Influencer Ruin - I think this is about as accurate as this section gets.

Part 4: JK i backed down instantly

Sunflower & Sombra

I had to admit defeat with these two. I don't think there is one by Tom Cardy that fits Sunflower, but I know so little about her I... As for Sombra, I did have a joke one but later (right now) accepted I also know very little about him. I toss in my hat on these two, I have done my best. 😔

I also debated an extra song for Nova - and a particularly silly one for Sol - but I thought I should cut myself off before I lost myself completely in the sauce. I suppose it works out, since I ran out of video embeds (oops).

Thank you for attending this uh. Post? Yes.

[crescentblossom66]

As valentines approaches and the shippers go wild

I think discotrain deserves one fic

Ya know for the road

Got ya covered, anon. A bit late, I know, but better late than never.

Sandy Song

The scenery went by in a flash, the large canyons at the end of the horizon went smaller and smaller and the little town they had just stopped at followed suit. It had been the last stop for the day, but the penguin hardly noticed the message that it had been the end of the line, mainly because it wasn't the end of the line for him.

DJ Grooves had really enjoyed the bumpy yet pleasant trip on the train after its conductor finally decided that penguins were allowed now, which happened shortly after he had confessed his feelings. To be honest, he had never thought that the owl would ever reciprocate his love...yet the Conductor was the one who confessed, which almost made him faint.

He watched the sun set in west which dipped the desert a lovely shade of orange and he was quite thankful that the singeing heat he had to endure all day was slowly decreasing with its slow descent.

He decided to hum a little tune, one that he had heard once before “I've been through the desert on a horse with no name, it felt good to be out of the rain.” He stopped only briefly once the door behind him opened an the yellow bird joined him.

“Go on, cannae believe that ye'd actually know a good song, Grooves.” It was playful banter now, no more malice laced the voice of the owl, he instead smiled as he moved closer and leaned against the railing right next to him and put an arm around him.

“...In the desert, you can remember your name 'cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain.”The penguin ran a flipper trough the feathers of the owl, who hummed happily and snuggled up to the penguin while rummaging through the inside pockets of his suit jacket. He apparently found what he had been looking for as the singing of the penguin was soon accompanied by the unique sound of a harmonica.

“I didn't know that you play an instrument, darling, especially not so well.” The owl only chuckled.

“Well, I know that ye enjoy music, what surprises me though, is that you seemed to enjoy yer surroundings. I would've thought that it ain't flashy or cold enough fer yer.”

“I've got to say, darling, this heat is near intolerable. A penguin wasn't made for the hot desert sun.”

“Aye, and an owl ain't made ta deal with the cold on the moon, luv, but I did accompany ye anyway...despite almost freezin' me tail feathers off. Sacrifices are necessary.”

“True, darling, true...” He gaze out into the setting sun, a sense of melancholy grabbed him tightly. So many years...they had wasted so many years as rivals, trying to beat each other instead of enjoying each other's company.

The Conductor noticed his rather forlorn expression and reached up to touch the penguin's cheek. “Somethin' wrong? Did ye get a sunburn?”

“No, it's...it's nothing you need to worry about.” The DJ pulled the yellow bird closer to himself before he grabbed his cap without any resistance from its owner, who leaned into the soft feathers of the penguin's chest and made quiet hooting noises that made DJ Grooves smile.

At least he could be with him now, it still felt like a dream, but the warmth of and softness of the bright yellow feathers confirmed that it was the reality. A reality that he'd enjoy with every fiber of his being.

-

Für diejenigen, die sich fragen, der Name des Songs ist „Horse with no name“ von Amerika.

[alanshee-keeper-of-realms]

Becoming the Nightingale (Work in Progress Fanfic) Some Spoilers for Season 2 of Good Omens

Summary: Aziraphale found himself backed into a proverbial corner. They found out about the kiss, how close the two had been for centuries, and now he was being told

Either you Fall to join your hellish pet, or you forget Crowley ever existed all memories wiped and gone

.

It was a blur of events that lead to this point him standing in front of the Metatron similar to how he had done to Gabriel, only standing next to a hole that had screeching coming from it that made goosebumps appear on his arms, a wafting smell of Sulphur

"Now Aziraphale, you have two options. You are stripped of your title and cast down or you give up Crowley and lose your memories of him forever,"

Aziraphale stood there carefully fixing his jacket,

"And this is a new coat, oh dear," he sighed with a touch of sass before looking at the other"I choose to Fall,"

The man seemed to be shocked at the Angels choice Muriel and Uriel did not seem like they were at all, Metatron watched as Aziraphale to his amazement simply stepped back spreading his wings and fell with the utmost grace he had ever seen an angel Fall with,

For the angel he felt searing amounts of pain leaving him gasping tears streamed down as only one thought entered his mind please

Crowley I know I did you wrong catch me you beautiful wily serpent

Crowley felt it, something monumental was happening and suddenly it was like he knew An Angel was falling he made himself appear near the spot they would land but whom he saw made his blood if possible run ice cold

Aziraphale

He ran diving not caring catching his angel just barely wrapping his arms around as they tumbled into the ground

"Oh Angel what happened what did you do,"

The other only could pant, trying to catch his breath Crowley studied the other his wings strange enough were brown, his once platinum blonde locks were still blonde but in a sandy way there were feathers poking out in between the strands also brown in color of what he could see of the others face he spotted feathers in patches

"I fell," he finally responded

"Well that much I can tell-"

A finger held up silenced him,

"I fell for you, " the newest demon turned around his eyes had even changed but to the most stunning Hazel Crowley had ever seen that is until his front was grabbed and he was pulled into a searing kiss in between however the serpent heard "Im so sorry" muttered repeatedly

It clicked however why this patterning seemed familiar and it made Crowley murmur

"Your alright Nightingale, I got you,"

However they'd find out later God and her ever ineffable ways had intervened Aziraphale had not in fact been turned into a Demon, but a Guardian Angel. A being never seen before a being who had the free will of Humanity yet the powers of Heaven and yet also somehow Hell

They would only discover this when nobody came for the former principality and a mysterious letter arrived explaining why, Crowley was even named as one of these beings in the note

God had given the pair Them. Their own team a new place for those who didn't quite fit in that wished to mingle and cross lines amongst the mortals. To do just acts whether they be good or bad

Gabriel causing a man to be hit by a car whom had tried forcing himself on Beelzebub for example was neither Bad nor Good as the man had been harassing zem and several other women. So one could say Gabriel just acted as the instant Karma he had accumulated.

And Beelezebub causing the injuries to end his life quickly Gabriel had no say after all it was also Karma. Zey had dealt with his abuses that night despite Gabriels attempts to kindly make the man stop. Beelezebub was a former Demon they were quick to temper, thus is the choice of freewill.

Free will lead to the current moment where Crowley and Aziraphale lazed about in the Bookshop, both of them sharing lazy kisses in between page turns,

[readtilyoudie]

He didn’t object as his wrists were bound and the other end of the rope tied to the saddle, or when Peregrine slid his hands inside Sandy’s jacket and up his thighs to make sure Sandy was completely unarmed. In fact, Sandy even shivered a little as Peregrine’s fingers ran an efficient search along the rims of his shoes, probing the tops of his stocking-clad feet and the knobs of his ankles.

“You missed a spot,” Sandy said.

“I don’t think so,” said the highwayman.

“But you didn’t even check the most interesting places,” pouted Sandy. “If you untie me, I can show you what they are.”

Peregrine Hind’s mouth didn’t change from its humorless line, but Sandy saw the drop of his eyes, the way his gaze burned from Sandy’s mouth to his chest and down to his hips. Peregrine’s hand flexed at his side, and for a moment, Sandy thought his captor was about to touch him again.

But he merely shook his head and mounted his horse.

Rake I'd Like to F...: The Last Crimes of Peregrine Hind by Sierra Simone

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter forty-three // death eater!tom hiddleston x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary:  While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

word count for this chapter: 5.2k warnings for this chapter: smut, dub-con, dirty talk, exibitionism

Notes: I've fancast Nikolaj Coster-Waldau as Rodolphus 😉 if you get it you get it

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Forty-Three:

My face heats even more when I realize Caelan was just witness to all that. I pull the quilt back up my shoulders and glance at him over my shoulder. He’s just on the bed, watching.

“What?” I say in his direction, embarrassed.

“We’re going to Edinburgh tonight,” Thomus says, startling me a little. I guess I never did hear his bedroom door click. He thought I was talking to him.

“Whatever,” I reply.

Fuck fuck fuck. I know I don’tneedmy magic to deal with things, but it helps control my anxiety. In a place like Edinburgh I can’t afford to slip up again.

~*~

The main hall in Edinburgh is buzzing with people. From what I could gather the Death Eaters had been dealing with the aftermath of Voldemort’s attempt to spread control internationally. Rioting in Spain and attempts to break through France’s Apparition Line has kept everyone busy. So tonight they’re relaxed and trying to have a good time with the Lots.

As if I’d be anywhere else, I’m right at Thomus’ side as he’s talking to Mulciber. My eyes have scanned the room already and now I’m just mindlessly staring. The only person of note nearby that I recognize is Kyle, but unless we were alone, it didn’t really matter. If he needs to walk to me I’m sure he’ll arrange it. Thomus’ hand grips the end of the leash, but I don’t bother with folding my arms around his, instead keeping my fingers twisted cross my middle. It makes me too anxious to touch him, even for show.

“Oh, I just have Chang working for me in the Lounge tonight,” Mulciber says. He has one of those aristocratic British accents that just makes me want to punch him in the face the more I listen to it. “Your nephew has her all booked up.”

“Is that so?” Thomus says. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely surprised or only politely interested. “I guess Granger’s finally starting to bore him.”

Mulciber chuckles. “How about your house pet? Is she –“

“Oh, don’t worry,” Thomus says, giving a single tight tug on the leash that makes me lurch forward. I catch myself on his arm. “I’ve gotten every Galleon worth.”

My jaw clenches. What an asshole.

“Chang wasn’t a virgin, but I didn’t care,” Mulciber continues. “I favor those Oriental types.” He doesn’t give Thomus a chance to respond because his eyes jump up to someone behind us. “Ah! Lestrange! Haven’t seen you around in a few weeks!”

My face pales and without thinking I grip Thomus’ suit jacket sleeve.Pleasetell me it’s not Bellatrix. Thomus’ head turns quickly, looking over my head at the Lestrange. Thomus immediately tenses.

“Mulciber, how are you?” an unfamiliar baritone says as the man comes to a stop between myself and Mulciber. Relief sweeps through my chest that it’s not her as I take in the tall man. He’s got a familiar shade of sandy hair that’s greying at the temples, pushed back from his face. Good thing, because it’s a handsome face. Square jaw dusted with a 5’oclock shadow and steely grey eyes. If I’m being honest the weathered lines on his face just add to his appeal.

The man eyes Thomus with a mischievous smirk. “Still fucking my wife, Malfoy?”

My eyes widen and my jaw drops.

“Rodolphus,” says Thomus through his teeth.  

Oh, Rodolphus?Thisis Bellatrix’s husband? Holy fuck. Looking at him now, I can see the resemblance between him and his brother.

Rodolphus’ attention turns directly to me and I quickly wipe the shock from my expression. He faces me full on and grabs my right hand, bringing it up to his lips. His hot breath fans across the back of my hand while he speaks.

“This must be your Lot, Malfoy,” he says, his eyes on me. “What shall I call you?”

“Alder,” Thomus snaps.

I try pulling my hand out of his, but his grip tightens and he smiles. “What’s your name, pet?”

“Melisa,” I say quietly.

He kisses the back of my knuckles and straightens, releasing my hand. “A pleasure to finally be formally introduced. We’ve met before you know.”

“We have?”

His eyes crinkle as he chuckles. “Well, I certainly saw you, but I do not believe you saw me.” He finally takes his eyes off me, looking at Thomus. “Quite remarkable really. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anyone Apparate onto the back of a dragon mid-flight.”

Rodolphus’ remark has all three men’s eyes on me. Thomus’ sour expression turns into one of confused surprise.

“Wait, what?” he says.

I wait for Rodolphus to go into detail, but he doesn’t, so I let out a small sheepish grin. “I – I mean, it didn’t feel quite so impressive in the moment.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, pet,” Rodolphus chides, softly elbowing me. “When I’d discovered that she was a mudblood, I was even more impressed.”

“You were at the break in?” Thomus asks me.

“I – um,” I hesitate. Is it okay to talk about this now? Harry’s dead. They know what we took by now. “Waited outside. Had a Portkey. Getaway driver.”

Thomus’ looks like he has more questions, but has to keep them to himself because Mulciber pipes up.

“Oh, look at the time!” He starts stepping away, his hand on Thomus’ arm. “We best be off.”

“There’s not a meeting tonight,” Thomus says. “That’s tomorrow.”

“They changed the date this morning. Didn’t you get his owl?”

“Then why didn’t you question why I brought my Lot?” Thomus hisses. “She’s not allowed in.”

Mulciber shrugs. “Thought she might’ve been booked for tonight as well.”

Thomus sighs heavily and shakes his head.

“Malfoy, why don’t you leave her with me?” Rodolphus cuts in. He holds out his hand for the leash and smiles. “I promise we won’t leave this room.”

“Perfect!” Mulciber says and looks at Thomus expectantly. “Well?”

Thomus is too busy to notice because his eyes are throwing daggers at Rodolphus. Then he sighs heavily and lowers the end of the leash into his waiting palm.

“I’ll see you keep your promise,” Thomus says and it’s a poorly veiled threat.

Rodolphus’ smile turns cheeky, but he doesn’t say anything. His fingers simply close around the leash as he steps closer, his hand on my lower back. Thomus can only glance at me before Mulciber is turning him away.

As we watch them part through the crowd Rodolphus bends to whisper in my ear. “Wait until we’re out of sight.”

Wait for what? I’ve barely had time to register what the fuck just happened. Looking down, I follow the leash to his hand. I know I should be nervous, especially without my magic, but I’m actually feeling… excited?

Calm, but brisk, he turns us around and begins pushing our way through the crowd, heading right for the Lounge. It’s not as busy in there quite yet, so it’s easy for Rodolphus to locate a quiet corner. He sits on one side of a loveseat and pats the opposite cushion. I take a steadying breath and sit towards the edge, angled towards him.

“I’ve been looking forward to talking to you for quite some time,” he says. He shifts himself closer, our knees touching.

“Oh?” I say politely. I have no agenda for this, nothing prepared. I’m just going to talk to see where the conversation goes and what information I can get from it.

He leans an elbow along the back of the loveseat behind me and plays with the leash between his fingers. “I nearly died of shock when I’d heard young Thomus had purchased a Lot.” The arm behind me starts teasing the ends of my hair and his eyes drop to my dress. “Based on your reaction, you didn’t know about the affair, I take it?”

I snort. “My shock had more to do with your audacity than surprise about the fact.”

“Ah, so you’ve met my lovely wife?”

The neckline of my damned green dress is square across my chest and runs just under my shoulder blades along my back. The top of the long puffy sleeves barely stay up on my shoulders, so the feel of his fingers casually brushing my skin as he plays with my hair is distracting. “Unfortunately.”

He chuckles. “An appropriate response, I’m sure.”

Playing with the chain must have bored him, because he slides the loop over his wrist and starts slowly running his hand up my arms. First my right, then my left. It feels nice to be touched like this, so I don’t stop him.

“And why is it you wanted to talk to me?” I ask.

Rodolphus tilts his head. “Do you have any idea how long the affair has been going on?”

I press my lips together, quickly deciding to lie by shaking my head. His fingers now dip under my sleeve, pushing it back as it runs up my skin.

“So long that I don’t recall him showing interest in any other – what’s this?” The pads of his fingers find the scars on my arm and with his other hand, pushes back the sleeve until it stops at my elbow. There’s a torch on the wall above us and it’s enough light for the words to easily be read. His eyes widen and he shifts, his breath coming more quickly now.

I try pulling my hand back, but he grabs my wrist and doesn’t take his eyes off it. “Courtesy of your wife,” I say dryly.

“I’d only heard about the one –“ his eyes go from my arm to my waist and he runs his hand along my side “ – here somewhere.”

I don’t know how to respond. It takes him a moment to recover from his excitement about… whatever the fuck got him riled up. He releases my wrist and sits back in the seat, knees spread. He tugs on my leash.

“Why don’t you sit in my lap, pet?” he suggests, back in control again.

My focus shoots down to his thighs and back to his face. What is it with these guys wanting me to sit in their lap? It stresses me out to think I might make them uncomfortable with my weight on them.

But no, what am I thinking? That’s what I’m worried about? I should be worried about Thomus catching us. I have no idea if his threat to put me in a literal dog house was real. Rodolphus’ suggestion implies I probably shouldn’t trust his intentions. And I think I’d feel… bad, guilty if we’re caught. A part of me feels that way already for just considering it.

I shake my head. I must really be fucking losing it if I’m hesitating over the very opportunity I’d wished for. He could be the someone else that gets Thomus out of my head.

He tugs on my leash again, harder this time. “It wasn’t a suggestion.”

“But Thomus –“

“Is quite used to sharing, pet. Especially with me.” He sounds angrier now, impatient. “Do not make me ask again.”

My chest pounds with nerves as we stare at each other. Then I square my shoulders and straighten my back. “How do you want me?”

Rodolphus grins wide. “Truthfully, on your back, but straddling me will do for now.”

My insides are at war with my mind as I stand, hike my dress up enough, and slide onto his lap, hands on his shoulders. His words make me blush from my ears to my chest. He grabs my hips and slides down the seat, settling my core right over him. His hips flex, pushing up, and I can feel him hard there.

No, I shouldn’t feel bad. Thomus and I aren’t in a relationship. I’m a sex slave, and right now the idea doesn’t repulse me. This stranger’s hands on my body as they slide below the dress, up my thighs to grip and knead my ass feels fucking good. There’s no threat of him hurting my feelings. He hasn’t taken a lust potion… that I know of. It feels like revenge.

He flexes his hips up again and instinctively I grind down against him. A deep satisfied noise comes from his throat.

“I’m starting to see the appeal,” he says huskily.

Suddenly his hand grabs my left wrist again, and he angles it so he can stare at the words. His breath goes ragged and he brings it to his lips, his tongue coming out to trace the lines. His eyes flutter open to see me staring and he yanks on my arm. I lose my balance and I’m leaning against his chest now, his breath in my ear.

“I’d love to give you some scars, too, pet,” he rasps.

My breath catches in my throat and I don’t know how to process that. Fear sends chills down my spine, but get quickly overridden by want as he grinds against me again. I whimper when he pushes right against my clit and I can feel I’ve already started getting wet.

He chuckles. “Hm, so responsive when I’ve hardly touched you. Tell me, pet, does he fuck you properly or does he waste his attention on my wife?”

My face is buried in his neck, my nose taking in his natural musk. He smells so fucking good and I can’t even name what it is he smells like. I focus on that instead of his question because I don’t know how to answer it. I don’t know anything about Thomus’ habits with Bellatrix. For all I know he could’ve been going to her this whole time, but the only evidence I really have is that hickey I saw on his neck once. It’s something I hate thinking about.

As for the first question, the truth is more embarrassing than any lie I could come up with. He fucked me once so to cover his own ass. He doesn’t really want me. He’s said so himself.

I must’ve taken too long to answer him because his hand is clutching the back of my hair, pulling back. I’m forced to sit back with a whimper.

“I don’t know,” I gasp. “I don’t know if he’s still seeing her.”

He gives a wicked smile. “Maybe I ought to return the favor then?” His hips push up again and I grind down in return, my teeth sinking into my lip as pleasure shoots up from my core. “It’s only fair after all.”

His hand pushes at my hip and I keep rocking against him. His fist in my hair is still tight and he starts turning and twisting my head as I move.

My eyes are closed, but I still try to flirt with a smile on my face. “Yeah, we seem compatible.”

“Compatible?” Rodolphus lets out a cruel chuckle. “Well, aren’t you sweet?” His hand releases my hair and wraps around my throat over the collar. “You better hope there’s still some of that sweetness left by the time I’m through with you.”

I grind down on him harder, pulling his hands from my neck and hip. I press his palms against my sides and run them up along my body, over my stomach and to my breasts. If I wasn’t starting to become so mindless I probably wouldn’t have done that. Somehow he’s got my insecurities taking a back seat.

His fingers dig into the flesh of my breasts, and he easily finds my nipples and pinches them. A quiet moan slips through my mouth.

“Do you like pain?” he purrs. The physical pain takes away from my emotional pain, so yeah, right now I do. But am I telling him that? Fuck no.

Suddenly he pulls himself up until his lips are at my ear again. “Ilike pain… I like to give it. Imagine being tied up, cunt fucked raw, body so tired you can’t even move. And then the most unbearable pain imaginable, the mostunforgivablekind, forced onto your body while you take my cock once more.” He groans as he pushes up, his hands back down on my hips to move me against him. “Oh yes, I think you’d enjoy that just as much as I.”

“You don’t know me,” I murmur, almost a whine.

He bites my earlobe. “No, but I know Thomus.” One of his hands starts sliding under the dress again, this time towards my core. “And you mustreallybe a good fuck if he’s not obsessed with my wife any longer.” His fingers push my undies aside and they plunge inside my hole. I grind my teeth to keep from crying out. He grunts in surprise. “Tighter than I expected. Let’s have a taste.”

He withdraws his hand from between my legs and puts the two obviously wet fingers in his mouth. He’s pushed me back and made sure I’m watching. He pulls his fingers out of his mouth and smiles at me. “Don’t worry. I’m a gentleman. I’m going to eat your cunt before I fuck it.”

He sits back against the seat, keeping me up, his hand has found the end of the leash. “I think it’s time you show me how useful that mouth can be.”

Reluctantly, my hands go between us and I fiddle with his belt. “Won’t Bellatrix be upset?”

A sharp slap across my cheek nearly topples me. I gasp and rub the sore skin, my eyes wide.

“You will refer to my wife as the Lady Lestrange. Do I make myself clear?”

I blink away tears, my chest shuddering with my breaths as I nod. I get his belt loose and pop the button. I’m going to start hyperventilating any minute now.

“I could taste your fear,” he murmurs. “It was fucking delicious.”

I shimmy down his legs a bit to give myself more room to pull down the zipper. Maybe this will be a good thing. If he can get me to a state where I don’t feel anything. Fuck, I’m already not thinking as clearly as I should. Maybe the cruelty will be worth it. To get over Thomus, a man I never should’ve gotten swept up in to begin with.

As my hand slips into his underwear, a hand clamps onto my shoulder and yanks me back. My leash is let go and I fall onto my ass as someone shoves themselves between me and Rodolphus. Breathing hard, I focus on the pain from falling and the slap still stinging my cheek while Thomus blinks into my focus. I can’t see his face, but his wand is under Rodolphus’ chin.

Rodolphus smiles, his hands up. “I see why you like her. I think she’ll make a perfect addition to our little family, don’t you?”

“You arenotmy family,” Thomus seethes.

Rodolphus shrugs. “It doesn’t matter what it’s called. So long as you’re fucking my wife, I’ll be playing with your new favorite toy.” He leans into Thomus’ wand and smirks. “Which means she won’t be yours for much longer.”

Thomus slowly lowers his wand, his wrist flicks, and then its disappeared. I slide back further so I can get off my ass and as I’m getting to my feet, Thomus rears back and punches Rodolphus right in the jaw.

My hands latch onto Thomus’ arm to stop him from punching him further. Some other Death Eater, an on-looker, pulls out their wand and separates Thomus, until he’s on his back, pushing himself onto his hands. For the first time since this thing began, my eyes dart around the room. It’s filled out now, but luckily this fight didn’t bring much attention. I can only assume little fights like this must happen all the time.

I pull Thomus by his upper arm. He shoves me off when he’s standing.

“Don’t bother making your little threats, Thomus,” Rodolphus sneers, buckling his pants. “I’ve heard them all before.”

Thomus huffs angrily before grabbing my arm and yanking me through the crowd. Thank god, I hope we’re going home. I can barely look at him as guilt wracks through my body. Guilt, but also relief that I’m in his hands again.

Alarm bells go off in my head when he doesn’t take us to the usual fireplaces reserved for the Floo, but instead outside. He finds a side door and shoves me through it, the loud bang as it shuts makes me jump. The outside chill feels nice on my skin.

I can enjoy it only for a second before his hand is on the back of my neck and he’s shoving me against the castle wall. My right cheek digs into the rough texture as he crowds behind me, sticking my left forearm to the wall before doing same to the other.

“What’re you doing?” I gasp, confused.

“What am I doing?” he mocks angrily. His hands are on my hips and he kicks apart my feet, standing between them. “What’reyoudoing?”

“I – “

“Did you forget? How could you possibly forget?” He drags his short nails up the back of my thighs, pushing my dress up over my ass in the process. He pushes his hips against it, pulling at my hips.

“Forget what?”

“Whose name is on your arm?” he demands.

My eyes, instead of trying to strain to see him, slide their focus to my arm. My sleeve has fallen with gravity and the small dark signature has revealed itself against my skin.

“Yours,” I breathe.

Thomus runs his hands down the front of my hips, following my fupa and up my stomach. He kneads the flesh there and I feel his warm breath fan across the lower-than-usual back neckline. He cups my breasts and his hips flex against my backside, and he lowers his face until I feel his lips drag along my shoulder.

“I didn’t hear you,” he says. “Louder.”

“Yours.” I can only manage a whisper this time.

Thomus’ hands are back on my ass. He grabs the waistband of my undies and hikes them up. His touch is caressing, lifting and spreading my cheeks until he gives a sharp smack to one of them. My body jumps at the surprise.

“What exactly was your plan there?” he asks. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“No, I –“

He smacks my ass again. “You just didn’t care. You didn’t care about being caught. You didn’t care about the warning I gave you –“

“I headed your warning,” I snap. “I didn’t kiss him.”

“Do you think that really matters?” he goads dryly. “He was about to have the one fucking thing that’s mine.”

I swallow hard. “You don’t own –“

He leans in close, his breath near my ear. His hand presses on the back of my forearm. “That’s my fucking name, isn’t it? Hm?” His nose is in my hair and I can hear him breathing me in. The metal on his belt starts to jingle behind me and I shift my feet when I hear his zipper undo. “So wouldn’t that make this body mine?”

My own breath is coming heavier still. Confusion still soaks my mind when I feel his cock pressing along the crotch of my undies.

“But you find me disgusting,” I whisper.

His hips push himself back and forth between my thighs and his hands grip down my front again. “Absolutely disgusting,” he murmurs, kissing along my shoulder.

“But why?” I dare to ask.

“Why do I find you disgusting?”

“No, why’re you doing… this?”

He clears his throat, anger in his voice once more. “If you’re going to act like a whore, I’m going to treat you like one.”

When my breath catches again, it’s because I don’t exactly hate that idea. No, I really like that idea. I want him to fuck me like he hates me. I want it because I know it’s true. It means he’s not going to turn around and break my fucking heart again.

“Why… here?”

His chuckle isn’t just dark, it’s promising. “Because I like fucking in places I shouldn’t.” His hand caresses my ass again, his hips grinding against my covered core. “It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

I close my eyes and push my hips back. “Yes,” I breathe.

Thomus’ hand slips between us, pulling my undies to the side and pushes his tip through my folds. His other hand jumps to the back of my hair and twists.

“Are you wet from him or me?” he demands.

I wish I could hide my face. I want to feel regret, but it’s lead to this, something I desperately wanted. I take a deep breath before answering.

“Him.”

With that, Thomus shoves himself completely inside me and we both gasp at the sensation. He pulls away from my shoulder, but I can still hear him panting behind me. It fucking hurts, but the pain feels so good. I feel so full and I can hardly think.

I rotate my hips, trying to encourage him to move. I need him to. He doesn’t and I whimper.

“Oh, what’s that?” he pants. He smooths a hand down my back, following the line of the zipper. I whimper again but it sounds more like a whine. I rotate my hips again, my feet shifting. He grabs the pliant flesh at my hips tightly, fingers digging in. “You’re going to have to beg better than that.”

This time I definitely whine.

“Aw, can’t you speak?” he mocks. “Did my cock steal the words from your mouth? Did you miss my cock that much?” He slowly pulls his hips back, almost all the way out, and snaps them back. I feel him along every part of my insides. He’s so deep and I love feeling him drag his way out before pushing himself back in.

“Good, because I’ve fucking missed this pussy,” he groans.

His hips start rocking against me, his cock sliding in and out in the most perfect, torturous rhythm. His skin slaps against mine and my toes curl as the absolute pleasure radiates over my body. I’m meeting his every thrust and I almost don’t care that my body’s still twisted against the cold stone of the castle. There’s no way I can come from this, but fuck if it doesn’t still feel euphoric. My body’s tensing, on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm while he fucks me.

At some point he unsticks my face, so he can tug and pull on my hair, his fingers twisted against the back of my head. The slap of our bodies is straight up pornographic, and I’m so wet the squelching noises echo against the wall and cobble floor. I’m so out of my mind with pleasure that I’m barely making a sound, my mouth just hangs open as I pant for air.

“Who does this fucking pussy belong to?” he grunts with a sharp tug to my hair.

I start to stutter his name, but then moan, “You. It’s yours.”

Thomus releases my hair and starts to fumble around my front, reaching for my fupa. He shoves his hand between my hanging belly and my thigh, fingers searching for my clit. But when he does get it, the angle causes him to slip out. My hips have to change their angle, and when he tries again, it only happens again, to his – and my – frustration.

“Release my hand, I’ll –“

“No,” he growls. “It’s my fucking cunt and I’m going to make it cum.”

He quickly releases my hands, pulls out and spins me around. Before he can do anything, I plant a hand on the side of his neck and bury the other in his hair, pulling him down to me. Our lips meet with desperation already mingling in the taste of our lust. I have to choke back tears because of how much I missed kissing him.

He bends his knees and I feel his along the back of my thighs. He only pulls his mouth away from mine to order me to jump.

I jump and he slams my back into the castle wall. I don’t know how high I am off the ground, but we’re at eye level. He’s stuck my back to the wall. I pull my legs up, spread wide, and he pushes them back down and closed so he can slide my undies down my legs. He vanishes them and then his hands are on my thighs, spreading them, stepping between them. His thumb finds my clit and he rubs circles around it as he lines up at my entrance again. I grip his hair and whimper when he swiftly slides back inside, still as hard as before.

He finds his rhythm again and pulls his hand out from between us, his pelvis rocking against my clit like it did the first time we fucked. My head fell back against the wall and my eyes almost rolled into my skull. His arms cradle my thighs and his hands are on my ass. I feel his breath at my ear.

“I’m allowing you to cum formypleasure only,” he growls. “I want your cunt to squeeze and milk my cock because it’smine, do you understand?”

“Yes,” I gasp. “For you. Only you.”

My body rocks and jolts with every thrust, the pressure against my clit nearly sending me over the edge.

The only mistake I make is opening my eyes. My intention was to look at him, to make sure that this was real. But instead my eyes find others… watching us. I don’t know who and I don’t know how many because I quickly squeeze my eyes shut.

“Thomus,” I whisper in his ear. “People are watching.”

“Good,” he pants, louder than just moments ago. “Let them watch.”

I glance at them again over his shoulder before burying my face in it. I whine as I try to concentrate again. I’d been soclose.

I pull him to face me again, pressing my lips against his, drinking him in like I’ll never get to again. Because who knows? Maybe I won’t. This is just a moment of madness.

He moans when he kisses me back. He’s just as lost as I am. The euphoria of his fucking drags me back in and my hips strain to take as much as they can, trying to gain even the tiniest amount of pleasure.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he murmurs. I nod my head, my fingers digging into his shoulders. He sounds in control, but his thrusts are starting to become erratic and uneven.

“Harder, please,” I beg quietly in his ear. He gives me his all and fucks the orgasm right out of me.

I choose not to moan and whimper for our audience, but the orgasms strength makes me delirious. My head falls back with abandon and my head cracks against the wall. I feel dizzy but barely register the pain.

Thomus cums in response to my body’s orgasm. He thrusts one last time and holds himself there. My insides squeeze and pulse around him, he’s cum so much I feel the mixture of our pleasure being pushed out around him, dripping.

“Fuck,” he moans quietly into my ear, panting still. “I’ve missed you.”

Don't be afraid to let me know what you think! Even if its just nonsensical screaming. Comments are always appreciated bc i love to talk about my fic. Thanks for reading! 💕

[godheadjones]

“Is this costume too revealing?” jabitha

Halloween has come to Riverdale. Houses down the streets lined with decorations, carved pumpkins and paper ghosts were everywhere. No one could escape the holiday.

Not even Jughead, who tried so desperately to every year but was always dragged into it by Tabitha.

This year, she had brought up couple costumes a few weeks before and Jughead, unable to say no to her, obliged. Now he’s stuck with an obscene amount of gel in his hair, dressed in a white shirt and leather jacket over top.

“Who am I supposed to be again?” he asks his wife, who’s applying some last minute makeup touches.

“Danny Zuko, and I’m Sandy Olsson,” Tabitha answers him from the bathroom. “Have you seriously never watched Grease?”

He tries to run a hand through his hair but a glob of gel stops him. “I was never into romantic movies.”

“That’s a shame. Romantic comedies are my favourite.” She steps out of the bathroom, her lips bright red, blonde wig curled and black shirt sealed tight to her skin. “Is this costume too revealing?”

Jughead stares for a second. She’d shown him pictures of what they were getting themselves into but he didn’t imagine that Sandy’s outfit from the final scene would look so good on Tabitha.

Clearing his throat, he responds, “It looks fine, Tabs. And don’t worry too much about revealing, Cheryl’s probably wearing something with much less coverage.”

She laughs loudly. “I wouldn’t even be surprised.”

Jughead moves closer to her and kisses her on her cheek so as not to ruin her lipstick, and he starts to kiss the sides of her lips, slowly reaching her full lip-

“Mommy, Daddy, stop kissing already!”

He hears his daughters footsteps running around the apartment first before he spots her. She’s jumping on the couch, blankets wrinkling under her feet. “We have trick-or-treating to do, all the houses will be out of candy before we even leave, come on!”

“We’ll be there in a minute, Terri,” Tabitha calls to her, then faces Jughead again. “She’s not my child, you know? With that melodrama and eagerness for food?”

The remark is teasing, but it doesn’t bother Jughead. “You’re right,” he replies, taking his wife’s hand and locking eyes with her. “She’s ours.”

[sholiofic]

A Biggles prompt : Von Stalheim is stranded in the middle of the dessert, escaping from another sticky situation. Wounded and exhausted, he powers through the dessert back to the civilisation. He knows when the hallucinations start, mixing past and the present, but is not ready when a hallucination of Bigglesworth suddenly grabs him.

tl;dr Biggles crash lands in the dessert and, while waiting for his team to pick him up, a delirious von Stalheim passes him by.

Answering some older prompts! The fill for this delightful prompt is a little bit AU, set between Flies East and Biggles & Co.

--

"You," Erich got out, through cracked lips. It was all he could say. He couldn't tell if this was reality, any of it; even what he had thought was a leather flight jacket turned out to be the collar of a sweat-soaked and sandy shirt, gathered in his clutching fingers. It could all be the product of his sun-fevered mind.

But there was a warm and living chest beneath the shirt, there were gentle hands steadying him. And if this was all a hallucination, then his imagination, with an unusual level of detail, had painted in signs of age—fine lines around the quizzical hazel eyes and the expressive mouth that hadn't been there when he had last seen that face at Zabala, when Erich hadn't even known his real name.

"I should be the one asking questions here," said Brunow—no—Bigglesworth. "The last I knew, you were supposed to be dead."

But his voice and his hands were both gentle, and Erich was dizzily aware of being guided into the sudden relief of shade. He half-lay, half-fell as he was lowered onto—yes—a flight jacket that had been spread out to provide a cushion from the sand. A slim, strong hand cupped the back of his neck and lifted his head so he could sip some lukewarm water. 

Erich turned his head to the side and watched as Bigglesworth, kneeling in the sand and stripped down to his shirtsleeves in the heat, poured a little of the water from the canteen onto his silk flight scarf. He laid it across Erich's overheated forehead. 

"Here," Bigglesworth said, pressing the leather canteen into Erich's hand. "Sip a little now and then—not too much. I'm going to try again to get that engine started. If I can't, don't worry, Algy will be along soon enough."

He hesitated, though, and reached out a hand to adjust the silk scarf, pressing more of the damp, cool fabric to Erich's cheek and neck. Erich still felt as if he was drifting in a dreamlike haze. It seemed to him that Bigglesworth looked as if he wanted to say something else.

But if there was something else to say, he couldn't seem to find it. And then he was gone, vanishing so abruptly that Erich thought for a moment he must have imagined him, after all.

The shade wasn't his imagination, though. He gazed up at whatever was blocking the sun, which showed dimly through a heavy fabric, and gradually realized it was the wing of an aeroplane. Of course it was. The war had been over for years, but Bigglesworth would still be flying. 

And he had the canteen in his hand, the flight jacket under his head. He raised a shaking hand to carefully run his fingers along the jacket's fur-lined collar, then touched the damp silk pressed to his hot face. After a moment, he felt strong enough to drink from the canteen.

[typingtess]

NCIS: Los Angeles Season 13 Rewatch:    “Subject 17” The basics:  Did you know Callen’s childhood is a mess?  This episode is here to tell you that.  Also, Hetty’s around and so is the Admiral. Written by:   R. Scott Gemmill wrote/cowrote “The Only Easy Day”, “Brimstone”, “Breach”, “LD50”, “Found”, “Borderline”, “Absolution”, “Archangel”, “Tin Soldiers”, “Impostors”, “Cyberthreat”, “Honor”, “The Watchers” and both sides of the NCIS Los: Angeles/Hawaii Five-0 “Touch of Death” episodes, “Recruit”, “Free Ride”, “Wanted”, “Ravens and The Swans”, “Impact”, “War Cries”, both ends of the “Deep Trouble” season five finale/season six premiere, “Inelegant Heart”, “Praesidium”, “Traitor”, “Active Measures” (season seven premiere), “Blame It On Rio”, “Internal Affairs”, “Matryoshka” part one,  "Talion" (season seven finale), “High Value Target”/“Belly of the Beast” (season eight premieres), “The Queen’s Gambit”, “Under Siege”, “Unleashed” (season eight finale), “Party Crashers” (season nine’s premiere), “This Is What We Do” (episode 200), “Các Tù Nhân”, “Goodbye Vietnam”, “Ninguna Salida” (the season nine finale), “Hit List”, “Asesinos”, “Till Death Do Us Part”, “Choke Point”, “The Guardian”, “Hail Mary”, “Kill Beale Vol. 1”, “Alsiyadun”, “Fortune Favors the Brave”, “The Bear” (season 12 premiere), “Angry Karen”, “Love Kills”, “Russia, Russia, Russia”, “The Noble Maidens” and “A Tale of Two Igors” (season 12 finale). Directed by:   Dennis Smith directed “Fame”, “Standoff”, “Rocket Man”, “Cyberthreat”, “Exit Strategy”, “Patriot Acts”, “Out of the Past” part one, “The Livelong Day”, Between the Lines”, “Deep Trouble” part two, “Black Budget", “Black Wind”, “Blame it On Rio”, “Defectors”, “Matryoshka” part one, “Granger, O”, “The Queen’s Gambit”, “Hot Water”, “From Havana With Love”, “Plain Sight”, the lighthearted “Monster”, “Superhuman”, “One of Us”, “Smokescreen” part one, "Decoy”, “Mother” (episode 250), “Alsiyadun”, “The Bear”, “Angry Karen” and “Signs of Change”. Guest stars of note:  Elizabeth Bogush is back as Joelle, Olesya Rulin returns as Zasha Gagarin.  Preston Edwards plays a young Callen Our heroes:   Are involved in more Russian nonsense. What important things did we learn about: Callen:   Subject 17. Sam:   Not pleased Fatima wrecked his car. Kensi:  Looking for a personal recommendation from Hetty for the Deeks-Blye adoption plans. Deeks:  Loves quicksand because the sucking part is what differentiates it from the beach. Fatima:  Wrecks Sam’s car for the greater good of saving the team. Rountree:  Stops Joelle when it matters. Kilbride:  Is not taking orders from Callen. What not so important things did we learn about: Callen:  Born August 8, 1976 – a Bicentennial baby. Sam:  Not pleased Joelle is drying her hair in the back of his car (foreshadowing!). Kensi:  Shirley-lock Holmes. Deeks:   Sandy. Fatima:   My vote for the person who named the staff cockroach Sheldon. Rountree:   Assaulted at a Trader Joe’s for taking the last Mandarin Chicken. Kilbride:  Likes to use different styles of weapons on the firing range.

Where in the world is Henrietta Lange?  In the office if only for an episode.  Then she’s on the road again.  

Who's down with OTP:   Kensi and Deeks are adopting though Kensi is bothered that Hetty won’t write a letter of recommendation for them.

Who's down with BrOTP:  Callen is open to a point – didn’t mention the whole Zasha plan – with Sam about his Subject 17 history.  Sadly, we’re involved too.

Fashion review:   Callen is wearing a dark blue button-down shirt.  Sam, breaking up with his henleys after 12-seasons, is wearing a black, long-sleeve tee.  Kensi, starting her appreciation of henleys, is wearing a really pale blue long-sleeve henley.  A medium blue long-sleeve tee for Deeks.  Fatima is an a green , plaid button-up shirt over a dark blue turtleneck.  Rountree has a grey, black and red plaid jacket over a tan tee-shirt.  The Admiral is wearing a dark blue three-piece suit, medium blue pattern tie and a light blue dress shirt.  For her season 13 appearance, Hetty is wearing an Aegean blue suit and a lovely pin. Music:   None.   Any notable cut scene:   On my DVD, the cut scene is from “Fukushu”.  Weird.  Weirder, the cut scene from this episode is attached to “Fukushu” on the DVD.  Not great.  Anyway, early in the episode, Fatima is trying to get the office back on line after Hetty shut some things down.  She’s having a problem reconnecting the boat shed when Rountree arrives.  Rountree offers to reboot the boat shed in person since he can grab breakfast on the way.  Fatima is amazed that Rountree doesn’t eat breakfast every day.  No, he tells her, It would be his second breakfast.  Fatima does not want him to have a breakfast burrito – it makes him gassy.  He calls her rude.  She thinks it’s rude to have breakfast burrito and then sit in a car with her.  As he leaves, she want him to pick up an air freshener for the car. Quote:  Kilbride:  “You will never believe what just came across my desk.” Hetty:  “Well if it was a large cockroach with only one antenna, his name is Sheldon and he's become sort of an office mascot.” Kilbride:  “Oh. I put him through my shredder last week. Well, nobody told me he had a name.  No, these were travel orders. You think you're going back?” Hetty:  “Well, I think I have to.” Kilbride:  “Well, I think somebody has to, but I'm not so sure it should be you. You made a bloody mess of things - over there the last time.” Hetty:  “Hmm.” Kilbride:  “Now, I will sign the order, but if you make it worse, you will be sacrificed for the sake of diplomacy, and if you do something really stupid and find yourself in a cage again, you will be disavowed.” Hetty:  “Well, that's-that's really... terribly encouraging.” Anything else:   Late at night in the office, one of the security cameras goes down.  A figure is breaking into a file cabinet that has an external lock.  At her home, Hetty gets an alert about a security breach in the OSP office archives.   Going through the files, the intruder – Callen –  finds one about Subject 17.  He sees an August 8, 1976 birth date and slams the file cabinet shut.

There are new credits and a remix of longtime theme song.  Credits give both Gerald McRaney and LL Cool J the “with” over their names while Linda Hunt is a “Special Guest Star”.

A grumpy Sam arrives at the boat shed.  Sam asks about coffee but then admits he’s going back to bed soon.  Callen talks about his evening activities, activities Sam believes will get Callen fired.  Callen wants Sam to look at the files but Sam likes his job – “that’s a hard pass.”  In fact, Sam thinks he’s an accessory after the fact and he’s not going near the files.  Sam begs Callen to get some sleep.

Explaining that the files are of foster children, some as young as six, Callen thinks it is strange that they were locked up in an NCIS file cabinet.  Sam thinks it is strange that Callen woke him up late at night to look at them, breaking many laws.  Callen is fixated on Subject 17 – they have the same date of birth.  The foster children were put through all kinds of cognitive tests.  Sam says that’s called school.  Callen explains it was more than school, it was psychological testing and screening of the children.  Callen said reading the tests, they were junior versions of the tests he was given at the CIA.

That morning, a happy Kensi finds Hetty in the armory.  Hetty is packing a number of weapons into a briefcase.  Kensi asks about Hetty’s plans – why would she do that, has she not been paying attention?  Hetty has a short business trip that needs secret weapons.  After apologizing for interrupting Hetty’s packing, Kensi wants to know if she can ask Hetty for something personal.  After getting a sincere “always” from Hetty, Kensi updates Hetty on the Kensi-Deeks road to fertility issues.  Since they are considering adoption, would Hetty be a personal reference.  “Always” turns in a gentle “no,” with Hetty telling a stunned Kensi that she is not the right person for a reference.  Kensi tells Hetty she is one of the most respected people in the intelligence community.  Hetty agrees but that is very different from “the parenting community.”  Hetty offers a reference from Leon or the SecNav instead – “vastly more impressive.”  Kensi is amazed and grateful.  Hetty is relieved when Kensi exits.

A hovering Callen is annoying Sam as Sam reads through the files.  Callen bring up the Russian dolphin case which Sam says shouldn’t be confused with the Norwegian dolphin cases they investigated.  Callen explains he sent Sam and Rountree to check out the dead dolphin after having a conversation with Kilbride.  Accusing Callen of being biased toward Hetty, Kilbride said  Hetty hired Sam, she created Callen.  Callen is bothered by the word “created”.  Since Callen knew Hetty since he was a teenager, Kilbride was talking about Callen’s life choices.  Callen wonders if he knew Hetty before he was a teen.  Sam asks if Callen remembers Hetty as a kid.  He does not.  Sam sees the files as a number of underprivileged kids who were given a chance to live life to their full potential.   Callen disagrees - nobody helps the underprivileged without an ulterior motive.  

Sam tells Callen he’s had a rough couple of years – more than anyone should have to handle with his father, sister, nephew, Joelle and Anna.  Add in COVID.  Needing to unplug and detox from everything, Sam suggests Callen take some time away just as he did when Michelle died.  “Now it’s your turn.”  A weary Callen agrees but thinks the files are sketchy.  Sam doesn’t know what the files really are and it is probably best they don’t know.  Callen thinks he’s Subject 17 – he needs to know.  After finally thinking he knew who he was, Callen saw these files.  Sam mentions Pandora’s Box  - Callen should enjoy the life he has.  A trip down the rabbit hole may uncover things Callen doesn’t want to find.  

Bringing up his time at the CIA, Callen asks Sam if he knows that agency’s motto.  “The Work of a Nation.  Center for Intelligence,” Sam knows the motto.  Callen tells Sam the unofficial motto is John 8:32:  “Ye shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free.”  All Callen wants, all everyone deserves, is the truth.

Joining Callen and Sam in the boat shed is Rountree.  He tells them the boat shed is offline – guessing they knew that Devin.  Starting the screen in the main room, Fatima is there with video to share.  Two women are fighting outside a Trader Joe’s in Marina del Rey.  It is a violent confrontation.  Rountree brings up his TJ experience – being hit by a woman with a bottle of Two Buck Chuck for taking the last of the Mandarin Chicken.  Everyone’s attention returns to the fight when one woman pulls out a baton and knocks the other to the ground.  Callen wants to know why they are watching.  “Wait for it,” Fatima promises.  Zasha Gagarin is on the business end of the baton.  Seeing Gagarin shoved into the back of a SUV, Sam thinks the Russians are recalling her.  No, Fatima has the SUV’s driver on video – it is Joelle.

Rountree only knows Joelle as the woman with the bomb vest.  While Kensi and Deeks are on their way to the parking lot, Sam is sure that there won’t be anything to find.  Joelle will see to that.  The only thing Joelle couldn’t control was an eyewitness in the parking lot with a cellphone.  Callen thinks Joelle is desperate for revenge.

Walking into Hetty’s office, Kilbride tells her about something that came across his desk.  Hetty thinks it was Sheldon, the staff’s pet/mascot/large cockroach with one antenna.  Kilbride explains Sheldon’s unfortunate trip through his shredder last week.  “Nobody told me he had a name.”  The item on his desk was travel orders for Hetty.  Hetty is returning to wherever she was (not including Linda Hunt’s driveway) last season.  She feels she has to go back.  Someone has to go, the Admiral agrees, just not sure it should be Hetty who made “a bloody mess of things.”   Promising she will be sacrificed if things go from bad to worse, Kilbride is willing to sign the paperwork.  If she does something really stupid and finds herself “in a cage, again,” Hetty will be disavowed.  Hetty finds the Admiral’s statements not all that encouraging.

At the supermarket parking lot, Deeks doesn’t expect to find anything.  Zasha was kidnapped in her own SUV so if they find the SUV, they can find where she last was and maybe where Joelle took her.  Except with Joelle being a “high-level operator”, the chance they find the SUV with any usable evidence is unlikely since it and the van Joelle was likely using will be found in a ditch or towed, wiped down so they will be “forensically useless.”  Deeks also calls Kensi “Shirley-lock Holmes” during his explanation.  This leaves Kensi wondering how “sunshine and gun powder” became “storm cloud and quicksand”.  Deeks is pro-quicksand.  Fatima calls Kensi.  Deeks does the little dance of “I’m right” and he was – the SUV was towed.  “Quicksand for the win.” 

As they are leaving the parking lot – “let’s go Sandy,” from Kensi – Deeks asks why Kensi is sad.  They were never finding anything in the parking lot.  Kensi tell him that’s not the issue.  Kensi is still a little stunned that Hetty refused to be a reference.  Deeks doesn’t see it as a refusal, more suggestions of better candidates.  Kensi doesn’t think the SecNav is going to provide a recommendation.  Deeks agrees, but Leon will.  Confused, Kensi believes Hetty would do anything to help.  It bothers Kensi that Hetty believes her recommendation would not.  While Deeks jokes about Hetty’s awkward teenage cannibal phase, Kensi wants to be serious.  Explaining that cannibalism is serious, Deeks starts joking about the seven deadly sins like cannibalism and not using your turn signal.  

Driving, Sam asks Callen if Joelle will hurt Gagarin.  Callen doesn’t know – he thinks Joelle wants Gagarin to use her connections to find Katya.  Joelle lost her family and her leg and she blames Katya.  With the Kremlin actively hunting Katya, Sam believes the Russians won’t care of Joelle takes out Katya – she’s doing their work.  It also ends the threat to Callen and Anna.  

Reviewing Katya and Anna’s connection to the Institute of Noble Maidens, Callen remembers a line from Arkady – that Callen should know about that type of training more than anyone else.  Arkady was talking about Hetty.  Sam was there for that conversation but thought Arkady was being Arkady.  Callen remembers a test he took when he was really young.  After being told he had dyslexia, Callen took tests including putting together blocks as an exercise.  The blocks made a gun.  The more Callen thinks about these things, the more he remembers.

In the bullpen, Kensi can’t find anything about the towing company.  Deeks thinks it was fake company.  Kensi is about to ask Fatima about possible past accomplices for Joelle when Callen and Sam arrive.  Callen is looking for Hetty.  Kensi mentions Hetty packing the armory, causing Callen to storm off.  Deeks asks Sam if everything is OK.  For Sam, yes.  For Callen, Sam isn’t so sure.  Kensi asks what’s going on.  Sam’s guess is that Hetty hasn’t told Callen everything about his past and some of it may be disturbing.

As he practices at the firing range, Kilbride is working with a number of different weapons.  Callen asks if the Admiral is planning a coup.  He is not.  When Callen asks about Hetty, Kilbride says “no idea.”  Showing the Admiral the Subject 17 file, Callen asks what Kilbride knows about intelligence screening programs.  “Nobody likes a dumb kid,” the Admiral replies.  Bringing up their conversation about Hetty creating Callen, Callen asks again about the files.  The Admiral wants to know where Callen got the files.  “Not important,” Callen tells him, asking instead if Hetty was running a program for future operatives.  Kilbride points Callen in Hetty’s direction.

When Callen demands an answer, the Admiral asks Callen if he hit his head because Kilbride does not answer to Callen and Callen does not give orders.  If Callen speaks to Kilbride that way again, “it will be the last thing you utter in this building and quite possibly on this planet.”  In a quieter tone, Callen asks where Hetty’s going.  Kilbride won’t share because it is classified.   Hetty could share her location with Callen but Kilbride guesses she won’t “for any number of reasons, none of them very good.”  Callen wants Kilbride to confirm that he knows where Hetty is going.  “Probably a very dark hole in a foreign prison unless some despot decides to keep her as a pet” is his reply.  

Kilbride also tells Callen his “ex” may find herself in the same trouble.  The Russians are furious that Joelle assaulted a foreign national in broad daylight.  The CIA – Joelle’s now former agency – is also looking for her.  With both the Russians and the CIA using local freelancers, Joelle’s best hope may be NCIS finding her first.  Knowing Joelle, Callen thinks she probably has an airtight plan.  Joelle probably wanted to be seen as a warning to Katya.  Thinking that this being a show for Katya means Gagarin is not in danger, Kilbride is told by Callen that she likely is.  Joelle will do whatever it takes to get information about Katya from Gagarin.  The Admiral wonders if there is a “women-who-kill” dating site that Callen frequents or does Callen just have “the world’s worst luck with the ladies?”  The Admiral wants a plan and Callen has one.

Walking into Ops, Callen asks Fatima is she can post something on Joelle’s Instagram account.  Fatima explains the illegal parts of that request.  With Joelle following her family’s social media accounts, Callen wants to contact her that way.  Fatima is on board.

Tied to a chair with a bloody noses and a few cuts on her face, Gagarin is losing consciousness.  Pulling her hair, Joelle tells Gagarin to stay with her because if she falls asleep, Joelle promises she won’t wake up.  Gagarin promises she doesn’t know where Katya is.  The last she heard, Katya was in Russia.  If Gagarin knew where it Russia, Katya would be in custody already.  Getting an alert on her phone from Peter Taylor, Joelle sees Callen instead.  Callen threatens to go to Joelle’s family if Gagarin is not brought to the boat shed in one hour.

Working in the burn room, Hetty is confronted by Callen, who offers the Subject 17 file for the paper furnace.  Callen made his own copy.  When Callen demands an explanation about the file, Hetty would like one too.  Straight out, Callen asks if he is Subject 17.  Hetty throws up her hands – “You shouldn’t have done this.”   Callen is amazed the “I” shouldn’t have done this.  Hetty shouldn’t have done any of this.  He asks again and is told that the truth is a fickle thing.  He asks again and is told “ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.”  Wanting the run-around to end, Callen demands an answer only to be told Hetty doesn’t answer to him.  Callen wants a yes or no answer.  Hetty wants an answer as to how Callen got the file.   Screaming “Am I Subject 17”, Callen is chided by Hetty for the tone he is using with her.  One last scream “Am I Subject 17” gets Callen his answer – yes.  Fatima apologizes for the interruption but Joelle is on her way to the boat shed.  Callen is on his way but warns Hetty this is far from over.

An angry Joelle arrives at the boat shed to find Callen looking at his phone near the couch.  She asks for the rest of Callen’s “misfit friends” but Callen claims to be alone.  He wants Gagarin.  Joelle promises Gagarin is safe.  Callen starts to speak but Joelle makes it clear she doesn’t work for him.  Callen notes she does not work for anyone at the moment.  “This time is personal” for Joelle.  Callen wants Gagarin freed before things get out of hand.  Joelle scoffs at “out of hand” since one of Gagarin’s colleagues tried to kill her, costing Joelle her leg (they never mention Joelle’s finger but she is wearing a glove).  Assuring Joelle Gagarin had nothing to do with Joelle’s kidnapping, Callen is joined by Sam.  Joelle disabled the GPS in her vehicle.  They can’t trace where Joelle has been.

Warning Sam that it isn’t his fight, Joelle is told by Callen it is their fight.   Gagarin is an asset for NCIS.  Joelle laughs at the hypocrite Callen is – he doesn’t care about Gagarin, just her intel.  Joelle thinks she is at least honest about her intentions.  Callen explains that Gagarin has been in limbo with her Russian bosses.  Joelle’s actions didn’t help.  In fact, Joelle was likely tailed to the boat shed.  She assures them she was not followed.  Callen threatens Joelle with arrest if she doesn’t turn over Gagarin.  Saying they don’t have anything jurisdiction over her, Sam thinks kidnapping and assaulting a foreign national is a place to start.  Sam might turn Joelle over to the Russians for questioning.  If she’s arrested, Joelle promises Gagarin will die of dehydration or starvation within a week.  Callen goes back to ratting out Joelle to her family – “and all the love they have for you will turn to white hot hatred for the rest of their lives.”  Joelle tries a weak defense about protecting his family but she loses Sam with that.    After promising to return with Gagarin in an hour, it is made clear that Joelle isn’t going anywhere alone.  She pulls a gun on Callen and Sam.  

With Sam warning Joelle not to do anything she may regret, Callen tries to talk Joelle into cooperating.  The monitor pops on with Rountree, Fatima and Kilbride.  This is enough to distract Joelle so Sam can take her weapon.  The Russians are coming, the Russians are coming!   No, they really are, six of them.  Joelle was followed after all.  Kilbride orders Fatima and Rountree to the boat shed.  Kensi and Deeks are five minutes out.  LAPD is going to secure the perimeter.  The Admiral thinks this is enough to cause the Russians to slow down.  

Callen has a different idea – an offering the Admiral doesn’t remember wanting.  They’re going out of the trap door in interrogation.   Joelle isn’t going – she’d rather face the Russians than deal with the typhoid she’d get in the water.  Sam gives her a little push.  Literally.  The Russians arrive and find nothing.  Pulling Joelle out of the water, Callen slashes the tires on the SUVs driving by the Russians.  Sam pulls up with Joelle in the back seat and they are on their way to Gagarin.  

Calling the office, Callen wants Kensi, Deeks, Fatima and Rountree redirected to the warehouse address Joelle reluctantly gave him.  LAPD can arrest the Russians.  Joelle starts wringing the water out of hair, much to Sam’s dismay.  The three start arguing about being in the water, the Russians and the possible damage to Joelle’s prosthetic now that it is wet.

At the warehouse, Callen, Sam and Joelle come across two strange vehicles.   Gearing up, Callen wants everyone arriving on their earwigs and ready to go.  Joelle wants to help but Sam orders her to stay with the car.  Four Russians are seen escorting a handcuffed (in front, not behind her back) Gagarin out of the warehouse.   Callen yells “Federal Agents” and all hell breaks loose with Gagarin used as a shield to get the Russians to their vehicles.  Joelle wants a gun and is told no in Callen-Sam stereo.  

As the Hellcat is shot to hell, Callen provides cover as Sam gets the big gun that fires explosives at the Russians’s SUVs.  The SUVs explode, causing the Russians and Gagarin to retreat into the building.   Callen is going to the back of the building to see what is going on, Sam is keeping the front secure.  Joelle asks what’s she supposed to do.  Sam suggests leaving.  She calls him an ass and he still thinks she should leave.

Callen gets into a shootout with another random Russian guard.  Joelle really wants a gun so she can fix things.  Kensi and Deeks are about four minutes out, Fatima and Rountree are even closer.  Rountree is going to join Callen as soon and he and Fatima arrive.  Tired of being ignored, Joelle runs into the building.  Sam is not pleased, wishing he drowned her when he had the chance.  

With Fatima and Kensi joining Sam and Rountree and Deeks with Callen, Callen considers Joelle a second hostage.  The Admiral has the building schematics sent to the teams members’ phones.  Since technically the Russians are foreign operatives rescuing one of their own from a rogue former CIA Agent, there can be no fatalities with this action.  This is a CIA problem, not an NCIS issue.   Callen brings up Gagarin being used as a human by the Russians but without body-cam footage, it can’t be considered a rescue.  This should not be hard for the team, according to the Admiral, if they are all “as good as you seem to think you are.  Can I get an amen?” 

The plan is for Callen and Deeks to go to the roof and look for a way in, Sam and Kensi to breach the front of the building with Fatima covering the front exit and Rountree watching the back.  “I like thinks plan.  It just feels like a winner,” Deeks announces to nobody in particular.  

In the building, Sam announces that they are federal agents and there is no way to leave the building.  Joelle finds a pipe to use as a weapon  Sam calls to Joelle to return to the car before she makes things worse.   Callen and Deeks make their way to the roof. Callen throws a duffle bag to Deeks.  While Sam keeps talking to the Russians, Fatima hopes they all speak English.

As Joelle is about to take out one of the Russians standing guard, she’s grabbed from behind by another Russian.  

The old skylight is painted over and filthy – Callen and Deeks can’t see inside.  Callen asks Kilbride what are the team’s chances of getting satellite heat signatures.  “About the same as my getting a permanent.”  The Admiral does have the way with the language.  He thinks of sending in robots with jetpacks to do the Agents jobs.  In Vietnam, he was lucky to get a map in the jungle.  Sam notes that may be the reason America did not fare well in the war.  Kilbride thinks about transferring Sam to Djibouti – the kind of Djibouti call Deeks doesn’t think anyone wants.

Sam and Kensi find the Russians using Joelle and Gagarin as cover.  There is no way Sam or Kensi could get off a shot without getting the women killed.  Callen decides that they all should attack at once.  Callen and specialty” according to Deeks.  “God I wish,” Kensi offers as rebuttal.  Callen and Deeks will come through the skylight, the rest will start shooting.  

Asking if everyone is in position – Callen gets a “one second” from Fatima, who has an idea.  Deeks thinks “the kids are so cute at this age.”  Callen isn’t messing around, calling to Agent Namazi one last time.  She’s almost there.  Sam says they have to go and go they all do.  Rountree runs into the building.  Sam and Kensi run to Joelle, Gagarin and the Russians, Callen and Deeks jump through the skylight while Fatima drives the Hellcat through the front of the warehouse.  

“What in God’s green heaven is going on in there” is the Admiral’s reaction to all the noise.  Fatima looks a little stunned by her actions the others quickly round up the Russians.  The Admiral asks if anything was blown up – he’s obviously watched the show.  Sam wants to know what was Fatima thinking.  She was going for the shock part of shock and awe.  Kensi thinks Sam’s reaction was more “aw” than “awe.”  

As Callen gets Gagarin off the ground, Joelle runs off.  Rountree is able to stop her with a BolaWarp gun – wrapping around her legs and stopping her in her tracks.  Fatima is impressed.  She’s also really impressed with Sam’s Hellcat, thinking it was “way faster” than she thought, calling it a “monster.”  Rountree thinks Fatima’s entrance was hilarious.  That does not sit well with Sam.  Wrecking his car is not hilarious.  Kensi is trying not to laugh behind him.

After being looked at by the EMTs, Joelle asks Callen what’s going to happen now.  Callen says what Joelle did was unacceptable.  She thinks what was done to her was unacceptable.  They are at an impasse.  There is a mutual interest in finding Katya but Callen will arrest Joelle if she pulls anything like this again.  Joelle asks if Callen would have told her family she was alive.  “What do you think?” he tells her.  She threatens that if she sees him near her family, she will kill him.  

Complaining his “tumming is growling like Winnie-the-Pooh”, Deeks tells a distracted Kensi he wants peneer.  Then he wants to know what she’s thinking.   She’s thinking that adoption is amazing.  That giving a child a safe and loving home is a privilege.  And maybe they would have done it anyway.  But she really wanted the two of them to have their own child – Deeks agrees about their own little genetic ninja assassins.  But he also thinks about all the things that had to go right to get to this place.  He talks about Kensi’s parents, his mom, his “despicable father”, their parents and their parents before that.  Everything put them exactly where they are today.  Maybe they need to trust the process and the universe.  

Kensi asks what happens if  the universe doesn’t want them to have a baby.  Deeks tells her to then forget all he said because the universe “can bite me.”  They’ll do what rich people do and steal babies.  Kensi tells him not to talk that way but Deeks doesn’t care.  He wants Angelina Jolie to be jealous of the soccer team they’re going to raise in their two-bedroom house.  Kensi smiles – he always knows what to say to make her laugh.  He considers it his superpower – his gift.  She asks about the refund policy for that gift.  “Store credit only.”

Looking for Hetty in the office, Callen is told by Kilbride that she’s already gone.  Callen wants to know if that is classified.  It is, according to the Admiral but since Hetty’s likely going to get herself killed anyway, Hetty is in Syria cleaning up a mess of her own doing.  Kilbride was actually surprised she made it back from her last trip.  “She’s harder to kill than that cockroach everyone seems to love.”  When Callen asks for specifics about Hetty’s trip, he’s told that is truly classified.  Callen asks why isn’t NCIS helping her.  “Because you don’t throw good money after bad, Agent Callen.” Kilbride hopes Hetty can “pull another rabbit out of her hat” – she has a “knack for it.”  Asked what happens if Hetty can’t pull that rabbit out of her hat, the Admiral just walks away.

Later that night, Gagarin is sitting with Callen in a car.  She thinks she owes him a thank you but she knows she’s now officially burned.  Callen thinks Gagarin is free but she knows she will be hunted for the rest of her life.  She is a woman without a country.  Callen doesn’t think that is necessarily bad.  If Gagarin does him one favor, Callen promises to help her.  Gagarin doesn’t want to do Callen any favors – she’s only got the clothes on her back because of her work with Callen.  

Callen gives Gagarin an assignment along with plane tickets to Syria.  Syria is not safe but Callen thinks Gagarin will be safer there than in the US.  Along with the plane tickets are money and a photo of Hetty.  Gagarin thinks Hetty is Callen’s mother.  Callen is insulted – surely a Russian spy based in Los Angeles knows who Hetty Lange is.   “Yeah, we know who she is.”  Gagarin will be traveling at Sydney Violet Richards, with the initials SVR, Gagarin’s old agency.  The passport expires in eight months but Callen thinks it will only last a few weeks.  If Gagarin completes her assignment, Callen will get her official U.S. paperwork and even let her pick her own name.

The evening ends with Callen reading his assessment with Hetty’s voice providing the sound.  Young Callen has an exceptional memory, with opportunity and education, “there’s no telling what he could achieve.”  The episode fades to black on the young Callen sitting through a slide show.

What head canon can be formed from here:  Kilbride is fulltime with the program though not officially in-charge until later in the season.

Why are we back with Callen’s well-mined childhood traumas?  I want to know about Clara Callen, not another deep dive into what has been an obsession with this program for now the start of 13-seasons.  Clara Callen was the daughter of a founding member of the CIA, a CIA Agent herself.  She married a Russian officer and he wound up being a conduit to freedom for many Russians.  We’ve spent hours on Callen’s life, Callen’s father, Callen’s foster homes while Clara got short mention in season three and is never mentioned again.  Feh.

At the end of the episode, we’re told that Callen has an exceptional memory except he didn’t remember being in Russia or Romania as a child, his mother’s death (I’ll give him blocked memories on that) or the tests/training he was subject to as child.  

Callen’s line about Joelle’s family’s love for her turning into “white hot hatred” for the rest of their lives – projecting much about Hetty?

Kensi and Deeks are embracing adoption and mourning their chance of having a family mix of children born to them and children brought to them.  That was the worthwhile scene in this episode.  

Episode number:  This is season 13’s first episode.  It is episode 281 overall.  

[just-jessie0]

Pip of a Raptor - The Death of the American Dream (Chapter 2)

“Alfred don’t forget your helmet,” Linda called out to the chubby-faced fourteen-year-old who darted around the compact living room, gathering various supplies, and stuffing them into his backpack. He twisted and turned to avoid the worn corners of the coffee table, scraping its edge, and displacing the crocheted runner his mom had made to conceal the stains and warping from nearly a century of use.

“I know, Mom,” Alfie replied absentmindedly, his mind focused on ensuring he packed all the necessary gear for the bike ride to Jon’s house. After rummaging through his younger brother’s scattered toys on the floor in the corner of the room, he located his mask and neck protector, adding them to his backpack.

The past week had been agonizing for the poor boy. Upon returning home and explaining his report card, Alfie had been placed under house arrest for the first week of summer. As soon as Jon left after dinner, Linda confiscated Alfie’s cell phone and threatened to confine him indoors for the entire break. After Alfie complained, whined, pleaded, and finally groveled, Linda decided that a week without his cell phone, along with some manual labor and Monday night math study sessions throughout the summer would teach him to try harder in his studies next year. Alfie reluctantly agreed, knowing he wouldn’t receive a better deal.

During the past week, he mowed, weeded, vacuumed, dusted, did laundry, and organized closets. His already rosy cheeks had turned scarlet due to all the sun, and tan lines from his socks and shorts had begun to appear on his legs from all the outdoor work. His sandy hair, closely buzzed, did little to shield his head from the strong rays, which even stung his scalp.

After a long seven days and some persuasion from Alfie’s grandfather, Linda acknowledged that the Alfie had learned his lesson. If he vowed to maintain his Monday studies, he was free to enjoy the rest of his summer days.

“… and don’t forget to ask Mrs. Breyer if she needs any help with the preparations for the baseball fundraiser,” his mom continued from the kitchen, “Mrs. Breyer has been such an angel helping Grace and I with all the scheduling for the league, and I know how stressful all that planning can be without the proper…” Alfie’s eyes shifted back to the issue at hand.

Where was his camouflage jacket? He could have sworn he left it by the old fireplace. Maybe Austin had moved it again; he always touched his things without asking.

“Mom, did Austin take my jacket?”

Without waiting for a response, he headed into the small dining room, which was rarely used for anything other than storage. He sifted through some cardboard boxes that were lined up against the wall until he found his jersey and his brand-new red dot sight which he received for his birthday, still wrapped in its packaging.

He was so excited to show the sight to Jon. Jon always had the coolest toys, like the Rival Range Nerf Guns with the mount or the Lego Star Wars Super Star Destroyer, but he didn’t have a red dot sight for his paintball gun, and that was their plan for the day.

He quickly ripped the packaging off the scope, crumpling it up and shoving it back into the box before placing the scope in his pack. Slinging the backpack over his shoulder, he made his way back into the living room and started the frantic hunt for his sneakers, once again weaving around the cramped room. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t notice the looming figure limping his way into the room until Alfie ended up running straight into the man’s hip.

The round-faced child met the gaze of an equally round-faced senior. Despite the years slightly curving his spine, Alfred Sr. still stood half a foot taller than most other adult men. He wore a simple white T-shirt tucked into worn jeans, held up with blue suspenders. His hair had thinned and fallen out decades before Alfie was born, and the kitchen’s light reflected off his smooth head.

“Where’s the fire, kid?” Alfred Sr. said, giving Alfie’s head a grind with his knuckles before shuffling past him and settling into his old leather chair in the corner of the room, directly across from their ancient box TV.

Alfie turned to his grandfather smiling.

“Me and Jon are going to bike down to Mr. Brown’s house and hang out by the pond,” Alfie said with a pitch in his voice which hinted at the child’s excitement at the prospect of adventure. He momentarily abandoned the search for his sneakers, fully focusing on the imposing figure in the chair. “We’re having a paintball match!”

“Jon and I,” Alfred Sr. corrected, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“He will also be asking Mrs. Breyer if she needs help organizing the baseball fundraiser,” Linda said, entering the room and approaching the pair. She gave Alfie a knowing look before crouching down to hand her father a steaming mug and a multivitamin.

“Coffee, Dad?”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he leaned forward and kissed his daughter’s cheek before falling back into the chair with a gruff sigh. “And he’ll remember, won’t you, kid?”

“Yeah, I will,” Alfie said, beaming up at his granddad. Alfred Sr. leaned down to whisper in the boy’s ear as his mother walked back into the kitchen.

“You’ll also remember to watch your six,” the man said, winking as he took a sip of his coffee. Alfie furrowed his brow and nodded seriously, determined not to forget the sage advice.

“I won’t,” the child responded with determination. “I’ve also been working on my situational awareness, just like you told me.” He stumbled over the phrase, as if his ears had heard the term but his tongue still found it unfamiliar. The young boy straightened his back. “Jon couldn’t even sneak up on me last time,” he added smugly.

“I’ll be damned, kid,” the grandfather said, clapping the young boy on his shoulder. The force of the push combined with the weight of his backpack was almost enough to topple Alfie over, but he managed to regain his balance with a giggle. “One day you’re going to be the best marksman in the military. I know it. Commies won’t stand a chance with you on the force.”

Alfie puffed up his chest with pride.

“Go have fun, kid.”

“Bye, Pop-pop.”

He turned away from his grandfather and entered the adjacent kitchen, where his mother handed him his long-forgotten shoes, along with his cameo jacket.

“Mrs. Breyer?” Linda raised an eyebrow.

Alfie fought an eye roll. “I know, Mom.”

Quickly lacing up his weathered sneakers, Alfie snatched his helmet from on top of the washing machine and bolted out the open door at the back of the house, the outside screen door clattering against the door frame with each swing.

It was mid-morning, and the day was already humid. June was still too early for the worst of the mosquitoes, but the onion grass grew tall and honeysuckle bushes were in full bloom and Alfie could already feel the slimy sensation of nasal drip in the back of his throat. He rubbed at his itchy eyes and sniffled. No one else in his family had allergies, and he knew he would have to ask his mom to pick up some Benadryl from the grocery store the next time she went.

Alfie stepped onto the driveway and made his way to the small shack on the other side of the pavement. The door’s hinges had long rusted away, requiring some persistent tugging from the child before it finally yielded. As he peered into the dimly lit shack at the jumbled heap of handles, tires, pedals, and brakes strewn across the floor, a wave of annoyance washed over him.

He placed his helmet on the pavement behind him before stepping into the shack to begin untangling the four bikes that were laying on top of each other. His little brother, Austin, had to be the one responsible for this mess.

He managed to extract Austin’s stupid baby bike from the conjoined bike mutation, carefully setting it on its stand on the driveway pavement. Next, he started pulling on the back tire of his mom’s bike. Or maybe it was his dad’s; he couldn’t really tell.

He knew he could tell that Austin wasn’t listening when their dad had shown them how to put the bikes on the bike rack last summer. Alfie had told him to listen, but Austin insisted on practicing his ninja moves instead of paying attention. Alfie couldn’t deny that his little brothers spin kick did dramatically improve within that 15-minute time frame, but he still didn’t understand why his dad never yelled at him.

Austin got away with everything. He never paid attention and he never said his ‘please’ and ‘thank yous’. When he refused to eat his dinner last night, Mom got up and cooked him hot dogs.

She never did anything like that for him. When Alfie refused to eat his Brussel sprouts, his father gave him a sermon about starving children far less fortunate than himself, insisting that he remain at the table until he finished everything on his plate. Alfie sat at that table long into the evening with his plate from dinner still in from of him. In that moment, frustration had welled up at the injustice of Austin and his special hot dogs, while his own Brussel sprouts had grown cold, taunting him from his plate. Eventually, his frustration had given way to boredom, and he reluctantly picked up his fork, skewering a mushy sprout and jamming it into his mouth.

Alfie huffed, wheeling his parent’s bike out and placing it on its stand next to his brother’s.

He was still surprised that he managed to get all nine of the Brussel sprouts down and he only almost threw up twice.

He went back inside and repeated the process with the other parent’s bike before bending down to inspect his own, the unfortunate victim at the bottom of the bike pile. The chains and gears seemed to be in good shape, and there wasn’t any chipping of the paint. He gently ran his finger along the frame, checking for any minor scuffs.

Pop-Pop had helped him paint it. For his twelfth birthday, he had asked for a motorcycle. Not a real motorcycle, he was quick to clarify, just a kids’ one, which had to be less expensive than a real one. He knew they existed because Jace Kechel had bragged about receiving one for Christmas that year.

“Please,” he had pleaded with his parents, “I’m going to get all A’s this year, and I promise I won’t ask for anything else ever again!”

“Sweetheart, motorbikes are dangerous. You’re too young, and even if you were older, I wouldn’t want you to have something like that,” his mother had replied.

Alfie remembered the sinking feeling in his chest. In his twelve years of life, he had already learned that he couldn’t change his mom’s mind when she believed his safety was at risk. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but continue his plea.

“What if I help pay for it? I can start a dog-walking business in the summer,” he had suggested, his voice rising as he grasped for hope. “And what if Jon and I start a lemonade stand?”

“Where will you get the money for the lemons?” His father had chuckled.

“Please, Mom!”

“Darling, the answer is no. Besides, those types of toys are very expensive, and I doubt we’d find any stores selling them unless we drove all the way to King of Prussia.”

“Motorcycles for kids,” his dad said with a smile, shaking his head. “We were just grateful to have marbles, remember, Lin?”

“Didn’t even need those; all I wanted was to jump rope with my girlfriends.”

Alfie had wanted to be just like Jason Lee Scott from the Power Rangers, a heroic teenager riding his red motorcycle, fighting evil aliens with the power bestowed upon him and his superhuman team by the mighty Zordon. But he knew he’d never be as cool as Jason Lee Scott without the motorcycle.

The following day, his grandfather took him to Walmart to buy aerosol cans of red and gold paint. Alfie wasn’t entirely sure what his Pop-pop had in mind until they laid out a paint-splattered blue tarp on the driveway pavement and brought Alfie’s bike out from the shed, removing the wheels from the frame, and placing them aside. Using painter’s tape, he began to tape off certain sections of the frame.

“You don’t need any of that expensive crap,” Alfred Sr. said, giving the red paint can a vigorous shake, the little ball inside clacking from side to side. “All you need is a little imagination and some elbow grease.”

Soon, the once black frame had transformed into a deep blood-red, with metallic gold wheels, resembling Jason Lee Scott’s iconic motorcycle. Once the bike and wheels were complete, Alfred Sr. taught his young apprentice how to create spray-painting templates from cardboard. Together, they traced the visor shape of the Rangers’ motorcycle helmets, creating separate sections for each part of the helmet, which they’d used to painstakingly paint Alfie’s bike helmet to match the headgear worn by the superheroes on the show.

Jon had teased him about the helmet, likening it to something his younger brother might wear, but Alfie didn’t care. He loved it and wore it proudly.

After conducting his thorough inspection, he returned the rest of his family’s bikes to the shed. He grabbed his dad’s paintball gun, which was propped against the wall, closed the door, and then placed his helmet on his head, securing the neck strap. Swinging his leg over the bike, he kicked up the stand and pushed off the pedal, propelling the bike down the driveway, carefully avoiding the cracks and potholes that had accumulated over the years and ventured onto the rural Pennsylvanian street.

[slowgaze]

first kiss (kind of)

A memory came back to me on my walk to the gas station to buy cigarettes and red bull, and I'd really like to start writing down these random flashbacks to my childhood. There's so much I've blocked out, huge gaps in my past that I'd like to fill and hopefully gain some closure from it.

I don't remember how old I was but I think I was 15 or 16, I had gone to the grocery store with my dad. It was right after the divorce, and I was just getting used to doing things on my own. I was wearing this long black button up jacket, and I remember how badass that jacket used to make me feel. I was finally getting good at makeup, I thought, so I was wearing glittery bright pink eyeshadow and heavy black liner, and bright pink glossy lipstick.

I was feeling so bold, walking around the store by myself having wandered away from my dad, and I noticed a boy. I think he might have been a little older than me. He was tall, with sandy brown hair, and when he made eye contact with me, i swear it felt like he had broken into my soul. We passed each other a few times, and I was definitely staring. I’ve always been awkward and unsure how to act with strangers, especially ones I was attracted to. During one pass, feeling as bold as I was, I blew him a kiss and then immediately darted into an aisle. In that moment, I felt so sexy. I was flirting. It was all so new and exciting.

This is where I should mention that I was not merely wandering aimlessly around the store. The jacket served another function, in having great deep pockets on the inside that was perfect for slipping things into off the shelves. I had been stealing for a while at this point, and hadn’t been caught yet, so I felt pretty invincible. I never stole anything crazy, usually cosmetics and candy, little luxuries I couldn’t afford, having never actually had any money of my own before. I knew my dad was poor, so I didn’t bother asking for anything, I figured I was being pragmatic.

I finished up my “shopping” and began searching the aisles for my dad so we could check out and leave, hoping to speed up the process so that I could escape with my goods. And then, near the front of the store, behind a detached endcap of cereal boxes, I felt a tap on my shoulder from behind. It was the boy, and he was standing so close to me, staring so directly into my eyes, that I immediately froze up. I think I stopped breathing.

I wish more than anything I could remember exactly what he said. But the gist was, he had seen me stealing. And that it wasn’t a good look, or something along those lines. And then he leaned in, kissed me on the cheek, and then disappeared.

My face was on fire. I was horrified. I was absolutely mortified. I immediately ran, putting things back on random shelves, frantically trying to find my dad so we could leave. I wanted to drop through the floor and disappear forever. We finally made it to the registers, and I saw him one last time with his cart and his family, but he did not look my way again.

It was the first time anyone outside my family had kissed me. Even though it was just on the cheek, I still remember vividly the panic, the strange excitement, and pure shame I felt in that moment when his lips touched my face.

I’d love to end this by saying I stopped shoplifting after that, but it only made me more careful. And I definitely did not try to flirt with anyone for a very long time after.

[writer-akihiko]

so mc running away i love it the angst 👌 so if its alright can you the same but with the dorm leaders?(pls do a good ending my poor heart cannot take it-༎ຶ‿༎ຶ)

Dorm Leaders + MC Running Away

So I apologise for the lack of happy endings, if you want to call it that. The scenarios turned out much more different than the First Years probably because of the power gap I had in mind. Also, for anyone wondering, the Vice Dorm Leaders will have a shot of saving you next! When I get to it... Cut for length. Also please help to share because I limited the tags!

Warnings: Character Death [Not you or the main boy], mentions of abuse and emotional manipulation [On the Reader] and violent actions [The Dorm Leaders]

"I'm not going back."

"Wh... What?" He was astonished. "YN... I've looked far and wide for you- please-"

No words left his mouth as you stepped away from him, tears in your eyes and you were going to make a run for it again.

Malleus Draconia

Your words struck a chord in him. He didn't mean it, but when you said that you weren't going back, he almost lost control. What did you mean you weren't going back? You promised him to be his Queen!

No... he's not accepting this. His Queen deserved better. His larger hands encircled your wrists, stopping you in your tracks. No matter how much you tugged and pushed, Malleus' strength was beyond you. In your sole despair, you fell in his embrace.

Every ache and injury struck your core, as you cried your heart out. "I can't go back Malleus," you whimpered. "I... I'm sorry."

Your hands gripped tighter onto his clothes. "I don't mean to fight against you, I-"

The Fae Prince sealed your bruised lips with his own, pulling your smaller form into his lap as he took in the moment of the bittersweet, longing kiss. "YN... listen to me," He said, his own ice cold tears falling onto your cheek, healing your wounds. "You never have to apologise for your suffering. Not even to me."

Malleus held you close as you drowsed off. The gentle smile hardened into a growl, as his back arched, black wings bursting out of his body. Malleus, in his dragon form, summoned the thorns to protect you, holding you as if you were his personal dragon hoard…

The principal, or more accurately the culprit, Dire Crowley was a fool to step out. It disgusted Malleus to his very core, his claws setting the very ground on fire as Crowley stepped closer. No words were exchanged between them. For all the suffering you faced, it was to be paid in tenfold as the dragon took a deep breath, releasing the fire in his chest.

"It was a fraction of her suffering…"

Riddle Rosehearts

He was ballistic. Riddle had been eager to bring you back immediately, but the sheer refusal and attempt to run away made him think that you hate him. He was blaming himself, sobbing to the ground.

Riddle's breakdown made you stop. No matter what you did, you still love him. Riddle's hiccups of sobbing paused at the feeling of your arms wrap around him. He wanted this, he wanted your warmth, he wanted- no… he needed you so badly he'd ceased to function without you.

"I don't hate you Riddle," You said, kissing his tears away. Your pretty Queen of Hearts had ruined the uniform he so proudly kept up with and Riddle himself was unkempt. Riddle cradled your sore body, letting you tell him your stresses and your breaking point abused over and over again by Crowley.

Riddle's heart softened ever so much for you, as he realised that he was to a fault as well. It was then he started to cry for you. "YN… I… I lost control. I know I can't be forgiven for the stress you went through so-"

"Rosehearts! You found her, how wonderful!" The jovial Principal cried out. In his hand was a magic tracking spell and that's when Riddle was struck with guilt once more. He doomed you, again. He… no, he refuses to end it this way.

Your loving self became meek, frightened by the aspect of being under Crowley's care once more. You trembled, reaching out to the hem of Riddle's coat. "Riddle… Please don't let them take me…"

He pulled you up, whispering to you. "When I cast my magic, run YN."

"Ridd-"

"Never thought you'd defy me, Rosehearts. Being a law abider and all~"

"Off With Your Head."

Kalim Al-Asim

"Y-YN?"

Kalim desperately hung onto your ankle, on his knees, begging and bargaining you to stay.

"YN… Please don't leave me again," He begged. "I'll… I'll stop dragging you to parties! I'll get you anything you want just please… please come back to me."

His tears wet your foot, as his grip left light marks on your ankle. Kalim never meant to harm you. He was so desperate to make you stay, but in his heart, he knew that he didn't have the strength to keep you with him if you desired to leave.

"How could you think that?!" You cried out. You stooped to Kalim's level, tackling him in hug so hard that he crashes to the ground. "I… I'd never leave you if I had the choice! I couldn't stand NRC anymore…"

You sobbed into Kalim's chest, wondering when it'd all end. You could never refuse Kalim, but what about everyone else? What about Crowley? Your spine shivered at the monster's name, wanting everything to disappear except for you and Kalim.

Kalim didn't know what to do. He didn't understand why Crowley would do such a thing to you. If Crowley was causing you such pain… He'd just have to get rid of the problem. You only deserve the best, after all. It's not his fault, nor is it yours.

You had cried yourself to utter exhaustion. Kalim gently wrapped you up in his jacket, cradling you to his chest. As if clockwork, Crowley appeared to the heartwarming scene, simply glad that you were going to be returned.

"Al-Asim, Dire should patch her up nicely-"

"No."

Crowley coughed. "What was that?"

"I said no," Kalim reiterated. "I have no reason to listen to you…"

"Since YN and I aren't your students anymore."

Azul Ashengrotto

How grateful he was to find you near the water. He almost turned red at the thought of you willing to search for him. Azul never thought you'd long for him this way, but you knew him, and you knew him well.

As if on cue, you looked beyond the trees to see your beloved, running from the sandy shores barefoot to be caught by your precious Azul. Azul doesn't have the best reflexes, trying to catch you without hurting you.

Azul took one good look at you, and the sight was enough to make him cry. Messy hair, cuts and bruises littering your skin possibly from running through the rocky forest, feet with sores from rocks… and tearful, sorrowful eyes.

Not an inch of sadness deserved to touch you. That was one of his core beliefs. He didn't say anything to prompt you to tell about what you'd been suffering. He knew. He knew every line of the story, and it made him ever so guilty that it led to this. If he just paid more attention to you, or at least try to.

Azul offered you everything. An ear to listen and his body for comfort, with his arms wrapping about you. If the simple action was enough for your forgiveness, he'd do it over and over again.

It was for a moment Azul held you, before running the water with you in tow. From the forest emerged the tweels, but what was behind you made you scream. Crowley, with his magic, retaliating against the twins' magic.

Azul wrapped you around his tentacles, drifting further into the ocean with you. He bent down to whisper in your ear. "YN, close your eyes. Don't look."

You shut your eyes tight as you did, hiding yourself in Azul's chest, away from the scene.

"May we never see you again, Crowley."

Azul and the twins in their merforms plummet into the ocean, deep down where Crowley would never come to touch you.

Idia Shroud

He wasn't surprised that the huge robot scared you. It was his secret project after all. He immediately let himself out of the robot, but he was hesitant to step into the forest. Idia was scared, but he still had to protect you!

"Y-YN..."

"Idia!..."

You stopped running, seeing your boyfriend pop out of the robot. Idia was quick to get over his reluctance as his panic shifts to your injuries instead. He wanted to cry out of joy from the mere chance of finding you.

Idia tried to treat your wounds as best as he could with the emergency kit conveniently equipped [he really did think of everything] although his wrapping technique was unkempt at best.

Idia's attempts to heal you made you forget of all the suffering. You couldn't help but laugh, realising how much you missed Idia. He knew that you needed this time. Oh, how he wanted to whisk you away...

But he might as well. You're his, right?

Crowley didn't get close to reaching you. Idia thought of it all. He tracked every move the principal made, fooling Crowley to think that Idia was with you the entire time, with the tracking device that Crowley so faithfully gave him.

"How desperate... it's honestly funny..." Idia scoffed at the idea of Crowley getting to you.

With the S.T.Y.X androids, Idia confronted Crowley, who was in sheer confusion.

"Crowley… burn in hell."

Leona Kingscholar

Leona didn't hold back. He couldn't believe you would say such a thign to him… The only conclusion he reached to was that you hated him. You hated his very core, just like everyone else… He was scared. It frightened him to the core that after everything he did, you still hated him.

"YN… stop fucking around with me," He said, grabbing onto your wrist. He wasn't about to throw a tantrum then and there. He had to get things straight. "Hey… tell me. Was I just a waste for you?"

"W-What are you talking about Leona?" You pushed against his chest, trying to get some distance but Leona was way stronger than you. The lion couldn't listen to reason. He simply went on about how you must've hated him, and how much you despised him.

"Did I mean nothing to you, YN?" Leona was shaking, his shoulders trembling from the mere thought of hearing those words.

You wrapped your arms around Leona, pulling him in close. "I never did… How dare you think that you stupid lion?!" You said, sobbing your heart out. You were equally hurt, but you never once thought Leona would think such a thing.

The emotional reunion was interrupted by the principal himself, pretending to be moved by such a scene. The false pretense of safety caught on to you, and you were sent into a panic, clinging onto Leona for fear of your life.

"I hate you!" You yelled, your body crumpling to the ground just as Leona caught you. "I hate you, I hate you. I don't want to go back, don't make me!"

If you were to scream anymore, you might collapse from exhaustion. Leona was quick to carry you in his arms, holding you close to his chest, where you were comforted by his heartbeat.

"Hoi, good for nothing principal," Leona called out, a single claw drawn out, igniting his Unique Magic.

"Move before I turn you to sand."

Vil Schoenheit

He was stunned to see you in such a state. He called out for you, and you stopped in your tracks. Was he that incompetent that he can't keep you with him? Did he not treat you right? Was his mere presence just torture for you?

Vil couldn't keep it in anymore. He needed to know. "YN… why won't you come back? Tell me, is it my fault? Am I not worthy of you?!"

The once prideful queen fell into shambles of insecurity as his mind won't stop painting images of you walking away from him, of you calling him your doom, of him being your captor… No, he didn't mean it…

"Was I the villain in your story?! WAS I?!"

Vil had never cried as much as he did. He needed to know that you didn't of him as a nuisance. He really was worthless if he made you feel unwanted… so please, he needed an answer.

"How could you think that, my love?"

You stooped to Vil's level, brushing away the tears that ruined his makeup with your very hands. Oh, your poor Vil… You were too selfish, thinking of your own suffering. With Vil in your arms, you felt whole once again. You gave Vil your actual answer, relenting every moment of your stress that stemmed from Crowley.

Oh… how his sweet potato must've suffered. Vil had a stuck of guilt, considering that he was under an Overblot as well. No matter, he had to make things right. For your sake, for his love's sake.

"YN, Crowley is trying to find you. But I… I have to set things right," He said, pulling you up.

The rustle of leaves had you on guard as from it came Dire Crowley, revelling in the scene.

"Schoenheit. You are supposed to bring LN YN to me immediately as I ordered."

Vil for once scared you. It scared you how enraged he was, and your heart wrenched at seeing the ink droplets by his hand.

"Vil, don't you dare-"

He turned back to you, whispering for you to run to Rook's safety. "Don't cry, my love."

You tried to hold the tears once again as you saw Vil shifting forms to an ink-like mess, this time his rage directed at Crowley. You could only run away, praying in your heart that Vil was safe.

[hqrbinger]

"HAPPIER THAN EVER."

summary; after finding out the rules of the game, you decide that you would do anything for him. pairings; xiao x reader (no pronouns used) warnings/tags; no beta/not proofread, lowkey squid game spoilers, squid game!AU, marble game but instead of sae-byeok and ji-yeong its xiao and you, major character death (you oops), angst no comfort, mentions of guns, death, and blood notes; so this is probably gonna flop/ someone has probably already done this before BUT !!! my sae-byeok brainrot has been THROUGH THE ROOF lately and i cant write for her so instead i did this lol, if it does well maybe i'll do more squid game crossovers ??? lmk if anyone wants a pt 2 with more charas bc this was meant to have more but its 5 am and i am exhausted LMAO reblogs are highly appreciated! songs; lonely shredder; mac demarco - happier than ever (edit); billie eilish

the small, glass marble was heavy between your fingers, the decision you were about to make hanging uncomfortably in your chest. your partner's marble was well a ways away in the alley you were playing in, pretty much securing the win if you were to play your cards right.

or in your case, playing them wrong.

because you were choosing to lose.

⊹XIAO

your marble slipped from your grasp only a foot or two from the line, landing with a pathetic thumb against the sandy floor. you glanced up at his marble, nestled in the gritty dirt several meters away. xiao had won.

you straightened your back, not really sure what was going to happen next or just how long you had left before your time was up.

"what are you doing?"

you winced just slightly when xiao spoke, hearing his footsteps approach behind you until your collar was grabbed roughly, pushing you back against the nearest wall.

"i lost," you said, weakly.

his eyes were swirling with confusion, anger, fear. it pained you to look into them. he wore a blank expression but you saw right through his stupid, icy facade.

just like you always could.

"why the hell would you do that?" he seethed, gripping your jacket tighter and shaking you roughly. you could tell how hard he was trying to be angry, to hate you for what you were doing. but you knew he didn't. he couldn't.

"hey, butter fingers, what can you do," you tried to crack a smile, but you knew it wasn't going to help.

xiao looked dumbfounded, brows knitted together in an emotion you weren't very well acquainted with seeing on his face:

fear.

"why are you doing this?" his voice was softer now, yet his tight grip on your collar remained steady. you didn't like seeing him like this, but it was all for the best. love makes you do crazy things, after all.

"whatever it takes," you whisper, despair and nausea washing over you as your choice was being set in stone. "i'll make sure you win."

his eyes widened slightly as your words truly sunk in, the gravity of the situation hitting harder than any bullet ever could.

anger suddenly took over his features again, fingers curling into fists around the fabric of your blood-stained jacket.

"you think i'm going to be grateful for this?" he spat, the malice in his tone not enough to counteract the horror in his glistening amber eyes. "take another throw. don't..."

his voice cracked and his eyes finally tore away from yours, his grip on you slacking once again. his breaths came heavy, and the quiver in his lip told you it took everything within him not to cry. "don't do this. please..."

you reached up, running your hands through his hair gently, relishing in the feel of his silky strands for what would be your last time feeling them. xiao squeezed his eyes shut, unsure whether it would hurt less to sink deeper into your touch or push you as far away as possible.

why? why did it have to be this way?

"you can't die," your voice is shaking and you have never been more terrified in your life, but the thought of xiao walking out of the bloodied room unscathed and safe was enough to keep you going. "i need you to live for the both of us. make it out of here for us, xiao..."

you tried to smile, feeling the familiar sting of tears burn at the back of your throat. but you wouldn't cry. not in front of him.

hot tears streaked single-file down your lover's cheeks, unbridled hopelessness pooling in both of his honey eyes. you reached up to wipe them away, but two masked guards rounded the corner, the lethal weapon present with one of them sealing your fate.

you were practically dragged off of the wall and out of his arms, the other guard simply leading xiao down the other way.

"xiao!" you called, catching him just before he was taken from the hellish room.

it was suddenly so much harder to speak, each word you wanted to scream getting caught in your throat. you knew you only had mere moments left, but you didn't have any idea what to say.

"thank you," you choked, smiling back your tears even though his back was turned. "thank you for being my partner."

the clink of a gun sounded much less scary seeing xiao out of harms way, and in that moment, you felt at peace.

"player 240, eliminated."