#I finally made one and it's hopefully not too intrusive

[toiletclown]

breathless. (part five.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

only fluff from here on out who cheered!

summary: you and spencer spend a night together, and talk about making your relationship 'official'.

word count: 2030

a/n: this project has been such a labor of love (and obsession). this is the penultimate part, the finale will be posted on fri 9/27

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Spence POV

You had both decided that watching some movies in bed and eating your favorite takeout was the best way to end this tumultuous, heavy day. Spencer knew you were tired, and he fully anticipated you falling asleep mid-movie. It didn’t happen often, you always tried your best to stay awake or would communicate that you were ready to head to bed.

All the times you had had movie marathons together, you stayed the night. Spencer would always wake up in the morning, his arm wrapped around you and your leg over his. You both tended to gravitate towards each other in the middle of the night, no matter how far apart on the bed you were before bed. He cherished it more than he’d care to admit, and he was hoping for a repeat tonight. He put on an extra long movie knowing you would get bored and fall asleep.

While it was sneaky, he supposed he was allowed to do that now. The emotions were out and in the open, and while you both still needed to discuss what that entailed and where your relationship was going to go, or how it would change, he was selfish at heart. And with the lack of physical touch in these past few weeks, he was begging for an excuse to touch you.

“Y/N?” He nudged you softly, hoping you wouldn’t stir.

You didn’t. 

He turned the TV off, and hit the bedside lamp too. He checked to make sure your phone was plugged in before plugging in his own phone on his side of the bed. While it wasn’t technically ‘his side’ by any means, he was sure you hadn’t had anyone else in your bed. Minus maybe Angela. And it might as well be his side anyway, considering he had had his own charger plugged in on that side for months, and it hadn’t been moved. He also had a backup pair of glasses here, and half your dresser was filled with his clothes. Though mainly that was because you stole so many of his shirts. 

Once he had calmed you down from his intrusion, he had noticed you were already in one of his shirts. An old, tattered Creed shirt he had retired once he bought a new one. You stole it almost immediately. He smiled to himself, finally letting himself relax.

He knew the morning would entail a long and emotional conversation, but for now he was going to give into his selfish ways, and hold you tight to him while you slept. Hopefully you wouldn’t mind if he was still here in the morning.

He set an alarm for 10am, kissed the top of your head, featherlight, and drifted off to sleep himself.

//

Reader POV

You woke up naturally, no alarm blaring or construction starting. You took your time fully opening your eyes, the sunlight hitting your face a little too hard for your liking. You hadn’t closed the curtains last night before bed, something you’re usually pretty good about. Hmm. A noise to your left startled you slightly. That’s when you took note of your extremities. You were wrapped up in Spencer’s legs, the covers haphazardly thrown across the two of you. The noise was simply him shuffling, but you had fallen asleep so suddenly last night you hadn’t realized he had stayed.

But, the realization made you quite happy. Your heart started to pick up its pace again, and you willed it into normalcy. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to it. But how could you ask your heart to act normal when you weren’t sure what normal was anymore? Everything was changing. And that was fucking scary. Change is hard, change is painful, but it’s happening. Constantly. Besides, this was good change, right? The kind you had wanted for so long now? Why harp on the fact that it’s change and not harp on the fact that you were finally going to be with your soulmate? You decided to just enjoy this moment, instead of letting it fester deep inside and drive you crazy. 

Spencer’s curls had gotten all messy in his sleep. You knew that happened, you had stayed the night with him more times than anyone else in your life. This wasn’t the first time you had woken up together, your limbs woven tighter than you thought possible, drool drying on the corner of one or both of your mouths because you both slept better when you slept next to each other. You almost always woke up first, and you were thankful for that. It gave you time to stare at Spencer openly. Sometimes you pretended to be asleep when he started waking, so you could hear him whisper sweet things to you while you ‘slept’.

You hadn’t been able to look at him like this in so long, and you took advantage of it. You pushed his brown curls out of his eyes, your touch as light as you could manage, not wanting to wake him prematurely. But Spencer lay dormant, hands under his head as he faced you. His chest was rising and falling in a slow rhythm, clearly at peace. Trailing your finger along his shoulder, then torso and hips, you ran the length of his body. Then you brought your eyes back up to his face, hoping the sun was hitting him just right and giving him that beautiful morning glow. And it was, but his green eyes were shining down at you now. “Hi,” he whispered. His face was lit up, a toothy smile and glittering eyes, the sun draping over him and painting him in gorgeous gold.

His hand reached for yours, a Midas touch. A warmth unmatched blossomed in your chest, spreading and filling every atom of your existence. You felt like liquid gold, and your eyes filled with tears, unprompted. You gave in and let them spill over. Spencer pulled you close, tears spilling from his eyes as well. At least you both knew they were happy tears this time.

You lay in his arms for some time. No words, no more tears, just the sound of both of your hearts beating in tune. The moment was ruined by Spencer’s alarm. 

“Jesus, sorry, I forgot to turn that off.” Spencer rolled over, hitting the ‘stop’ button. He grabbed your hand again, “I was a little distracted.”

“Whatever by?” You cocked your head, feigning innocence.

Spencer leaned in close, and the air was ripped from your lungs. “By my partner. If you’ll have me, anyway?”

He glanced to your lips, and you had to force your lungs to start working again. “Only if you’ll have me, too.” You closed the minimal distance between your lips, doing your best to remain calm.

It was soft, chaste, and everything you had been fantasizing about for six goddamn years. It didn’t last too long, it wasn’t too hot and heavy right off the bat. It was Spencer. And it was perfect. Of course it was.

You pulled back, noting Spencer’s blown pupils. “I probably should have asked before I did that. Sorry.” 

“Consent is important but I promise I am not complaining, Peach.” He leaned in again, smiling. “You can do it again, if you want.”

How wonderful it was to be able to laugh while kissing someone. This couldn’t be considered a make-out session by any means, it was much too silly. That’s to be expected of you and Spencer, though, isn’t it?

He kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you. It wasn’t always the right angle, what with the amount of laughing and smiling you were both doing, but it was still perfect to you. You let Spencer’s hands wander over you, and he kept asking if it was okay when he reached a new area. Your arms, your torso, your legs. He didn’t come too high up your thigh, and he never reached around to your ass. Ever the gentleman, Spencer Agnew was.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass, baby, really,” Spencer breathed, his lips on your neck. You shuddered at the new nickname, wanting to hear it again. “We could have been doing this for years, huh?” You could only nod in response. He pulled back, putting a minute amount of space between you. Far enough that you weren’t touching all over, but close enough that he was still very much in your bubble. You loved it. Especially because he knew exactly what you wanted, often without you needing to voice it.

“Y/N, I love you so much,” he started, “And I’m pissed we lost so much time, really, and I can’t apologize enough for making you wait.” He laced your fingers together, rubbing circles into your hand, just like you did for him yesterday. “But I also don’t want to rush this. We might have been in love with each other for years, at least I have, but this is still a new relationship, you know?” 

You started tearing up again, but only because you were enamored with Spencer’s thoughtfulness and vulnerability. “Good tears,” you laughed, reassuring him. “Thank you, for being so honest with me. I feel the same way, actually.” He kissed the back of your hand, nodding for you to continue. “This,” you gestured between the two of you, “is still us, still our friendship. But the relationship aspect is new, and we should treat it as such, right?”

Spencer nodded, enthusiastic that you were on the same page. “Exactly! I don’t want us to, like, jump right into it just because of the history we have. I want to take you on dates, and buy you flowers, and get to know you all over again. I don’t care how many times you’ve told me about your favorite movie – tell me about it again. Show me your favorite albums again, your favorite TV shows and stand-up specials. I want to discover you all over again.”

The tears were falling in droves at this point, and you were really wondering how you wound up so lucky. “Fucking hell, Spence. Are you trying to kill me?” You wiped your tears on your shirt, laughing. “You’re so fucking perfect. Thank you.”

“No, thank you. I love you, babe. Do you want to get some breakfast?”

“Or I could make us breakfast?”

“Fuck yes.”

//

After breakfast you both decided it was time to have the dreaded conversation. ‘Dreaded’ because you both would rather be lazily making out right now and watching Neon Genesis Evangelion, but instead you had to talk about ‘feelings’ and ‘labels’ and ‘hard and soft launches’. God, dating nowadays was so stupid. Especially when you’re dating your best friend of eight years and you’re both entirely unsure where your limits were because for years there were none. None that were spoken anyway.

Spencer wanted to go public immediately, because, according to him “anyone who doesn’t want to show you off is fucking insane”, but you thought it might be better to wait a little while. You don’t have to pull the long con like Court and Shayne, but just having the office and your friends knowing would be good enough until you both settled into this.

“Then we could maybe be annoying and drop little hints on IG or in videos, see who all catches on,” You offered, knowing his mischievous side would absolutely love that.

“So many fans already ship us anyway, it might be fun to drive them a little crazy with it.” Spencer laughed, bright and full of love, and you just could not believe you finally had Spencer to yourself.

Realistically, you had for a few years now, but now it’s real.

The conversation wasn’t as long as you had expected, luckily you were both on the same page about nearly everything. Soulmatism is just like that, you supposed. After about thirty-or-so minutes, you both had worked it all out and decided another lazy day in bed was in order.

You could get used to how easy it was to love Spencer, and how he made you feel even easier to love.

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taglist: @lokidokieokie @chaoticlizzzzzz @babble28 @starstriker027 @langaslefthairstrand @vc55bughead @kneelforloki @cosmichahn @lisiliely

[darby-rowe]

18+ | nsfw | mdni academy!coriolanus snow x fem!academy!reader word count 1,375 cw piss(!!), closet sex, clothed sex, degradation, humiliation, dirty talk, dom!coryo, dubcon, fingering (female receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink, descriptions of saliva, not proofread notes i've been having horrible writer's block trying to work on my snowjanus x reader fic, so naturally i decided to write a piss kink fic to hopefully resolve that [two thumbs up]

you felt as if you had no time whatsoever to take a breather. the entire day was just your nose buried deep within your books to prepare for finals, and you didn't dare to tear your eyes away in fear of forgetting crucial information. you were stressed, and worst of all, you can't remember the last time you went to use the restroom as you felt your engorged bladder causing an uncomfortable ache in your pelvis.

your massive need to relieve yourself was only made worse as your boyfriend coriolanus pulled you aside, shoving the two of you inside a vacant janitor's closet. you gasped as coriolanus began grabbing at your tits and ass, shoving his tongue into your mouth in a sloppy, hungry kiss. you heard yourself whimper pathetically into his mouth as your sexual arousal mingled with your aching bladder. a slight dread crawled its way into your chest. if coriolanus continued with what he was doing, you were sure you would never recover from the sheer embarrassment of you pissing yourself during sex

"coryo—" you tried mumbling into his lips. but he was having none of it as he turned you around and shoved your chest into the wall of the closet, raising up your long red pleated skirt above your waist so he could get a good look at your pretty panties.

"don't object," coriolanus commanded, keeping his voice reasonably low so no one passing by the closet would hear them. he carelessly shoved his two middle fingers inside your mouth and ordered you to suck on them. gargling and gagging noises emitted from your throat as he pumped his fingers deep within your mouth to get them as wet as possible. as he withdrew his fingers, you coughed and gasped for air, only for your air to seemingly get caught off as coriolanus's hand tightly clasped onto your mouth. "and don't make a sound,"

you had to admit it — this show of dominance from your boyfriend was insanely hot to you, which made your overflowing bladder ache that much more. a muffled yelp escaped your mouth as coriolanus's two middle fingers, coated in your saliva, found their way under the waistband of your panties then inside your pussy. and you then found yourself in an entrancing in-between of pleasure and pure agony.

coriolanus's fingers were fast — punishingly fast — as they fucked your tight cunt, emitting squelching sounds as they pumped in and out, in and out, in and out. you couldn't help yourself as you whimpered into the palm of coriolanus's hand, desperately grasping at the wall of the closet to find anything to hold on to. "i barely saw you all day," he panted into your ear. "too busy stressing out over final exams. could barely focus because all i could think about was your pussy. but now i finally have you, so don't ruin this for me,"

you tried to crane your neck to give coriolanus an understanding look, but the vice grip he had over your mouth kept your head locked in place looking forward. you arched your back further into his fingers, earning an approving groan from your boyfriend. for a blissful moment, you forgot about your need to piss, but your guard was soon let down as you felt him withdraw his fingers and heard the familiar sound of him pulling his pants down, feeling him pulling your panties to the side.

with a few slaps to your pussy, and an agonizingly slow intrusion of his dick, your knees gravitated towards each other as you started to feel the beginning of the end. soon, you were going to be unable to hold it in, and you were going to have no choice but to relieve yourself all over your legs and his cock. you wanted to tell him, to make him stop before you embarrassed yourself forever, but before any words were spoken, his hand was back on your mouth, silencing you once more.

"ahh, fuck yeah..." coriolanus whispered as his dick entered inside. you rolled your head back as you felt yourself become full, letting out a low groan into coriolanus's hand. "such a nice, tight pussy. so perfect for my cock,"

"oh, oh god," you whimpered as coriolanus pounded his dick deep inside you, your voice muffled. the closet was soon filled with the sounds of his pelvis smacking against your ass, gasps, pants, and muffled moans as the two of you fucked in the risky privacy of the vacant janitor's closet.

you weren't sure if it was because of how good coriolanus's cock felt inside you, your limited amount of air, or the nauseating smell of the different cleaners, but you felt yourself becoming lightheaded and dumb. you were starting to emit low groans as he fucked you nice and hard, even though the danger of pissing yourself was still prevalent. every thrust of his cock felt as if he was intentionally trying to bump into your bladder, like someone gently tapping a water balloon with a needle.

"you're being such a good girl taking my cock," he mumbled into your ear. "and you're gonna let me come inside you, right? yeah? you're gonna let me breed this pussy so you can walk around with my cum inside you, you dirty girl?"

"coryo," you tried to say, hoping he'll understand. "i'm gonna pee,"

"what was that, bunny?" coriolanus mocked, not knowing a single word you were saying due to your voice being muffled. "can't hear you when i'm trying to get you to shut the fuck up,"

your orgasm was drawing dangerously close, and the process was only expedited as coriolanus reached around and began rubbing at your clit. the anticipation was rapidly killing you. moans and mewls escaped your mouth and into the possessive hand of coriolanus.

the walls of your pussy began to contract, signaling the arrival of your climax. coriolanus kept up with his ministrations, whispering dirty words of encouragement.

"that's right, come all over this fuckin' cock," he panted, placing open-mouthed kisses all over the side of your neck. "c'mon, my naughty girl,"

your cries for mercy fell on deaf ears as the continuous pumping of his cock brought you towards your explosive orgasm, in which your pulsating pussy further agitated your bladder. and along with all of your nerves igniting on fire, a steady stream of warm liquid came gushing out of you and onto your legs, pooling onto the floor of the closet. you would be sobbing out of embarrassment if it weren't for the fact that the immediate relief of your aching bladder only added to your orgasm. you groaned heavily as your piss came flooding out of you.

your walls squeezed around coriolanus's dick, causing him to also reach his peak as you continued to piss all over yourself and his throbbing shaft. he released his hand from your mouth, and out came a string of desperate apologies.

"sorry," you whimpered. "i'm so sorry, coryo. i tried to tell you—"

"looks like you made a mess now, didn't you?" coriolanus interjected. "what? i fucked you so good that you had no choice but to piss all over yourself?" he slowly took out his cock and looked down at your messy panties, covered in piss and cum. "so dirty, and so fuckin' hot,"

you took a moment and looked down at the floor beneath you, lifting up your foot to watch your pee drip from your shoes. you closely inspected your white socks to see if any traces of yellow could be seen, but the lighting of the janitor's closet made it nearly impossible to tell.

"i made a mess," you muttered, your voice tinted with frustration. however a delay in your mind made you finally register coriolanus's words. "wait, you thought me peeing myself... was hot? why?"

coriolanus shrugged his shoulders. "why not? did it at least feel good?"

a small shiver coursed down your spine as you remembered the orgasmic relief of your bladder, and you found yourself desperately needing to feel that feeling again. "it felt really fucking good, coryo,"

"then that's all that matters, really," he gave you a gentle smile and kissed your temple. "we should really clean up, though,"

don’t be shy, let’s talk. ♡

[natrogersfics]

The Anthology - Chapter 5: imgonnagetyouback

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3

“Think you’ll make it up to Ontario anytime soon?”

“Hopefully,” Steve says, catching the way his words cause a glimmer of hope to flash across Sharon’s face. “I know who my first call will be if I do.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sharon says, rising from the bar stool and leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Take care, Steve.”

“You too, Sharon.”

As Sharon disappears into the crowd, his eyes scan the room where the wrap party is still in full swing. Today marked the last of their double-digit hour workdays, and if the lively scene unfolding before him is any indication, it’s evident that he’s not alone in his relief to have those behind him. Over on the corner, the Russos and the stunt crew are huddled over a table playing what he can only guess is their nth round of Uno. Not too far away, Kevin stands in conversation with the wardrobe team, no doubt thanking and praising them for a job well done. And at the center of the dance floor, commandeering most of the attention in the room, Sam and Bucky trade dance moves to the delight of the crowd that’s gathered around them.

He shakes his head in amusement, feeling the warmth of gratitude permeate through him as he brings his beer bottle up to his lips to take a swig. He had spent more time with these people than he had with his own family over the last few months, witnessed them pour their blood, sweat, and tears to ensure their movie could be as successful as it could be. To now see everyone euphoric with joy and deservedly celebrating the fruits of their labor feels like nothing short of a gift.

Well, everyone except one, he realizes.

His gaze goes from one end of the room to the other in search of that ever familiar figure, and despite how trying their situation has been, he finds himself disappointed when he doesn’t find her. Maybe she didn’t come. In the last few weeks, she’s never spent a minute longer on set than she’s absolutely had to. It only made sense that she’d take the first opportunity to get away from all of this.

From you.

It’s with a sigh that he pushes off the bar, batting away the intrusive thought and making his way towards the door in search of some quiet. The air is humid against his skin as he walks out into the late summer’s night, the studio lot that’s never not buzzing with activity during the day proving to be a somber sight as it sits empty and lit only by the moon and the sparsely spaced streetlights.

He’s barely taken a breath when he sees it – the silhouette of someone perched on the steps leading to the sound stage, smoke billowing from the cigarette between their fingers. And whether it’s intuition or simply unbridled curiosity that has him walking towards it, he’s unsure.

“You said you’d quit that,” he says when he approaches to find Natasha seated by the bottom of the stairs, staring at nothing in particular.

“I said a lot of things,” Natasha says, the end of her cigarette glowing a bright orange as she brings it up to her lips.

“You did,” he says, watching the smoke waft into the air as she exhales. She finally looks up at him, and for the first time, he sees the way her cheeks are flushed with red and the glazed, faraway look in her eyes. He nods towards her feet. “How many of those have you had?”

Natasha looks down between her boots, to the empty crystal tumbler resting on the concrete, before lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “How’s Sharon?” she asks instead. Surprise must have flashed in his expression, prompting her to chuckle. “No need to be embarrassed.”

“Natasha-”

“She’s the better choice anyway.”

She’s in no condition to hash this out. Logically, he knows this. Nevertheless, something about the tone in her voice, particularly the bitterness that seeps into it, causes all the hurt and resentment he’s been trying desperately to hold in all these weeks to come rushing to the surface.

“You know what? No, you don’t get to do this! You can’t just cast me aside out of nowhere, and then throw yourself a pity party!” He stares at her, imploring her to show him something, anything to explain why she felt the need to plunge them both into this mutual hell they can’t seem to escape. Only she doesn’t respond, and defeatedly, he finds himself plopping down next to her on the stairs and taking the cigarette from between her fingers. “Goddamn it, Nat.”

The silence lingers between them, and it’s only when he takes a drag from the cigarette that he hears her giggle. He turns to her, raising a brow up in disbelief.

“Steve Rogers smoking,” she says, trying – and failing miserably – to contain her laughter. “What will the moral police say?”

He wants to shoot her a withering look, to chastise her because there’s nothing, absolutely nothing funny about this predicament they find themselves in. But as he takes in the amusement thick in her expression, for reasons beyond his comprehension, he feels his lips begin to twitch in a little smile, too. And before he knows it, they’re both breaking out in laughter.

None of it made sense. Her actions have brought him nothing but torment these last few weeks, and yet, as their laughter tapers later on, all he wants in this moment is to take her in his arms. He sighs. “Why’d you walk away?”

For a moment, she only holds his gaze, and for the first time since he woke up to an empty bed that fateful morning, it’s as though her mask comes off and he sees her – his Natasha – not the stranger he’s been watching from a distance all these weeks. And if he easily recognizes the internal battle raging in her eyes, it’s only because he, too, has been contending with it.

“Because it doesn’t matter if I’m your costar, friend, or the one you want to come home to,” she whispers eventually. “You’re you, and I’m me. And so long as I’m in the equation…” She shakes her head, her lips curling into a smile that’s painfully rueful. “Pick your poison, babe, I’m poison either way.”

Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

[bumpkinspice0]

Parallels Chapter 18: Worth Everything

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!FemReader

No use of y/n

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2k

Summary: You deal with the aftermath of Miguels choice

Warnings: Angst O'clock, Talks of death, Panic attacks, like I have no idea how to write these feelings but we're here

A/N:  I am so horribly sorry for the wait, life just be life. Bad news, this update is a little short. Good news, it's short because I took half of it and put it in the next chapter which is now half written and will be posted (hopefully) in 2ish weeks

Previous

Series Masterlist

AO3

_______

No one ever talks about how desensitized you become with this job. How easily things boarding on impossible become mundane to you. What you deal with on a daily basis, if you think about them too much, it all becomes somewhat laughable. Things like interdimensional travel and building-sized mutants just become part of your everyday life. You’re not entirely sure anything could shock you anymore. After a decade of this shit, you’re not sure what was left anyway. 

Yet, you sit completely silent on the couch. 

You’re not supposed to be here. Not just with Miguel but… here here. It was all going to end. You had your fair share of brushes with death in the past, an accepted hazard of all this crap, but just knowing the finality of it somehow made it all the more sobering. You always made it out okay. But this time… This time you weren’t supposed to.

You were supposed to die— and they all knew about it. He knew about it— and he saved you anyway. 

The most sacred rule was broken by the very man who declared it. What more was there left to say? 

“This whole shit storm just got even worse,” Gabe grumbles as he analyzes the numbers, “With her not even being in her own dimension… I don’t know.”

“ Shut. Up.” Miguel scolds him in a hushed tone. His eyes keep darting over to you as the two brothers work. 

After their immediate confrontation— with a good amount of screaming— they got to work. Countless projections filled Miguel's living room. You had no idea how to decipher the equations and charts and readings— which were all likely pointing to the same solution. You shouldn’t be here. This feels so wrong because you should be—

And you're just… sitting here. Fucking useless.  

“Can I help?” You dare to ask.

“No,” Gabe bites, “You’ve done enough.”

“This isn’t her mistake,” Miguel hastily steps in front of you, “It’s mine. So I’ll fix it.”

“Fix it?” Gabe barks out a laugh. “I thought I could trust you. I thought you’d learned.”

“There are things at play here that none of us could have anticipated,” Miguel says as calmly as he can. 

“Don’t,” Gabe groans, pushing his current projection screen away. “Please just don’t… talk like a scientist for one minute.” He runs his hands over his face with a deep sigh, stepping backward until he practically trips onto the adjacent couch. The sun has started peaking through the windows behind him. 

They’ve been at this for hours. 

Miguel seems to share the sentiment, stepping away from both of you. The neon projections hover motionless around all of you. They tell a story you don’t know how to read, and you're afraid to ask one of them what it says. 

So, you just sit quietly, waiting for one of them to deliver the final blow… whatever that may be. 

Death? Banishment? Some kind of interdimensional imprisonment? This is uncharted territory. The unknowns are stacked against you in every way. Miguel always plays it safe. Always bends to the will of the canon. Always makes the tough choices. Will he realize saving you was a mistake?

Even with all the gibberish equations floating around your head, you knew what the easiest option would be. The cause and the solution to this problem was sitting right here on the couch— quiet and useless.  

Being Spiderman is a sacrifice.

You push the intrusive thoughts back. He wouldn’t have saved you, he wouldn’t be working tirelessly just to let all that effort, all that risk, be in vain— right?

He saved you. He chose to save you.

Miguel is the first to break the bloated silence that’s settled over the room. He turns to Gabe.

“Get out.”

“ Excuse me? ” Gabe is instantly back on his feet. “After what you pulled—”

“We all need a break,” Miguel towers over his younger brother, “We’re spinning our wheels. No solution is going to come up if we don’t give ourselves time to digest what we know.”

“What we know?!” Gabe brushes past him. “We don’t know anything!” He waves his arms around the projections.

“Gabe!” Miguel hisses as he grabs his brother’s arm. His eyes briefly dart to you then back to Gabe. It’s a subtle gesture, you almost miss it, but his message is clear. 

You’re scaring her.

Are you scared? No, not scared— absolutely terrified. 

“Miguel…” You see Gabe’s shoulders drop ever so slightly. The anger is dissipating and being replaced with something you can’t quite place. Defeat? Pity? He glances at you for a split second before looking back to Miguel, “Migs… No puede volver a su casa.”

“ Sé…” Miguel says solemnly. 

“Ella no puede quedarse aquí.”

“Si…lo hará.”

“Mig–”

“I’m right here,” you bite out, harsher than you intended. Your Spanish may be extremely lacking but you’re not an idiot, “You can’t just talk about me like I’m not right here.”

“I’ll go. We’ll continue this later,” Gabe sighs, pulling his arm from Miguel’s grasp. He pauses in front of you, you finally look him in the eye. It was pity that replaced all that anger. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

“Thanks,” you dismissively respond, turning away. 

You hear his boots shuffle over to the elevator. 

“Lyla’s main controls are turned over to me for the time being.” He announces as the elevator dings open. 

“Understood.” Miguel all but grumbles in response. 

Miguel can’t be trusted with such power anymore… because of you. Because he had to save you he’s been stripped of leadership. 

The energy in the room lightens when Gabe leaves but it’s still nowhere near comfortable. You still don’t move from the couch, blankly staring out the window. You pull your knees into your chest for some semblance of comfort and find none. At least the sunrise was beautiful today. 

“ Arañita ?” You hear Miguel’s voice. You feel the cushions dip next to you. Still, you don’t look at him. “Please… say something?”

“What do you want me to say?” your grip around your knees tightens, “What could I possibly say right now?”

The spider-sense hums faintly between you two, as it had for the last several hours. Strange how you always thought you could trust it. It was just another instinct after all. An extension of yourself. It would be like not trusting your own hands to tell you a stove is hot. Yet here you both are with your hands on the stove, the flesh long burned away. 

The numbness and shock were finally boiling into something else. You need a release. You need to feel something… anything else. 

He doesn’t hesitate to pull you into him when the tears start. To your surprise, you don’t pull away. You don’t know if you hate or adore him for this. You don’t know what to feel for any of this. Gratitude? Horror?

You feel like something was taken away and everything you wanted was given to you at the same time. You should be dead. You’re so happy you're alive. Someone will pay the price for this. Miguel has saved you. Miguel has doomed you. How can you fix this? Is there even an answer?

For now, crying will just have to do.

“Why?” you finally croak after an eternity. 

“Why?” His lips brush against your hair.

“Why save me?” you lean against his chest, part of you hating how much his touch comforts you, “Why interrupt the canon if you, of all people, understand the risk.”

He’s quiet longer than you’d like. You’re head rises and falls with his breathing. His heartbeat speeds up ever so slightly.

“I tried not to.” 

The admission stings more than you’d like it to. Of course he tried not to. Of course he didn’t come parading over on a white steed as soon as he got the news. This is Miguel O’Hara, the king of law and order in the multiverse. This is Miguel O’Hara… the man who’s changed your life forever.

“But you didn’t.” You finally say. 

“But I didn’t.” He repeats, running a soothing hand over your hair.

You finally turn up to face him, surly looking a mess with red puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. 

“I– I don’t know what to do, Miguel,” you choke, willing more tears down. You’ve had enough crying. It won’t solve anything. 

“You don’t have to do anything.” His hands find your face, forcing you to look at him. You see the pleading in his eyes. “You don’t have to do anything. I promise you I will fix this.”

You want to believe him. God, you do desperately want to believe him.

“We just haven’t done anything like this with a—” he cuts himself off, his teeth biting into his lip. 

But you know the next words. 

“Say it.” 

“Arañita, I don’t think–”

“Say. It.” 

His shoulders drop, defeated. “An anomaly.”

You scramble out of his grasp, suddenly suffocated by the magnitude of all of this. You pace over to the windows. Your emotions have been running high for the past month and this is the horrible climax. The horrible, perplexing climax. You finally let out a gut-wrenching scream, and it somehow helps more than the tears.

You're alive. You’re alive but you're just so… so something . Angry? Or maybe you're scared. Or maybe everything. Yes, that’s it. You feel everything. Rage. Gratitude. Confusion. Fear. All of them— but one is distinctly missing. 

Hope. You feel absolutely no hope. 

You’re an anomaly now. A bug in the system. Something this whole tower was built to stop. Of course there’s no hope here.

You should be dead, but you’re not. You should have taken the cure and ended all of this, but you didn’t. You should have done a lot of things but you never had the strength to do them. But if you did… you’d be dead right now.

Miguel catches you before you fall to your knees. He holds you close, comforting you the only way he knows how. This is all his fault. 

What, saving your life? That continuous voice in your head reasons. 

You can’t bring yourself to hate him, but you can’t bring yourself to be completely grateful either. What was honestly the right reaction to this? There isn’t one.  This is all just so… fucked.

You’re an anomaly. Something unstable that causes damage without trying. Your mere existence could end universes now. A realization hits you.

“I can’t go home, can I?” 

His pause is answer enough. He eventually speaks anyway.

“No.” You feel the remorse in his voice, “For all your world knows, you are… gone. The canon is playing out as predicted. Entering and interrupting it could have severe consequences. Your atoms are—”

“What are you going to do with me then?” You ask the question almost clinically as if trying to bypass the raging storm inside your head.

“What?”

“I’d lock me up if I were you. We don’t know—”

“You think I’d do that to you?” Miguel pulls away, forcing you to look into his eyes. “You really think I’d do that?”

You shy away from his gaze. “It’s the safest option. I’m dangerous.”

“You’re staying here. You’re staying here with me until we solve this.”

You can’t help but feel like he’s breaking more rules right now. Keeping an anomaly in your home? Unthinkable. You're a monster now. The enemy. 

An anomaly. 

“I’m not worth this kind of risk. I’m not—”

He pulls you into him, his lips enveloping yours with a deep moan. He cradles your face as he kisses you passionately— with meaning. You almost taste his pain. Your shared pain. The spider-sense quakes between you, just as afraid as both of you. You lean into it hoping to find relief there. And there is some, but not enough. It’s never enough when it’s Miguel. Not enough to fix things this time, unfortunately.

He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. You breathe each other's air, both surely hoping a kiss fixes the mess you’ve made. He places another small kiss on your forehead. 

“You are worth everything .”

________

No puede volver a su casa.- She can’t go home.

Sé- I know.

Ella no puede quedarse aquí.- She can’t stay here.

Si…lo hará.- Yes… she will. 

Please please please let me know if any of this isn't correct

________

Taglist:

@ineedgarlicbread @pinkiemme @thesilenthill @bontensbabygirl @fallenangelsongwolf @raerorigel @littlefreakymunson @viriexo

@w33ni3 @del-ightfulling @radiantlyfemme @5sosuperntaural

Taglist post here!!!

[donkey-hyuck]

[00:00 a.m.] for our haechan who works too much ♡

~ He doesn’t know when and he doesn’t know how but Lee Donghyuck had grown tired.

Tired of what? Everything.

The year was coming to an end yet he and his members have not. With barely enough time to rest with back-to-back performances and tours with not only 127 but dream as well, he grows tired.

He doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this and he really doesn’t want to come to the conclusion that he’s just tired. Being an idol is everything he wants, everything he’s ever known. Yet he grows more and more fatigued as the days drag by.

Everything he’s been experiencing with tours and movie makings thrills him, excites him. They’re opportunities that happen once and a lifetime. Yet at the same time he feels nothing at all. Just tired.

You’d barely had enough time to see him. And you never call, worried that you may be disrupting Lee Donghyuck who was forever following his passion. He’s an idol, it’s almost like he was born to be one. But he’s also a human being. And human beings can only take so much.

“I don’t know how much longer I can take. I love being there for my fans and being someone they can look up to but it just doesn’t feel the same,” he sighs, shifting around in his bed.

He facetimed you that night. He wanted to come over but you made him stay home. You lived on the other side of town and you convinced him that it’d be too much of a hassle for him to come to your apartment. You knew how hard he worked and you constantly pressured him to just rest. To take advantage of every minute of spare time to relax and just be Lee Donghyuck. Not Lee Haechan.

You don’t know what to say to him. This was the first time you’ve ever heard him feeling dejected. Like everything he’s doing is a chore. You hum, letting him confide in the warmth of you, even through the phone screen.

“I love my fans and I love my members but we’ve all been feeling off this year. We had so many opportunities offered to us since covid and it feels like we’re making up from those years that were stripped from us but, god, I feel so…. lost. I feel so overwhelmed and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Hyuck has finally opened up to you despite your knowledge of his feelings because of the worrying habits of his members. You recalled the time Jeno called you, saying that your lover was rejecting meals and was cooped up in the practice room. Or the time Mark texted you saying that Hyuck was having an off day and that something was definitely up.

“…. I just… I-I don’t know,” he trailed off. And by no means did you mean to zone out but looking at Donghyuck through the pixelated screen made you want to cry. He’s never felt like this. You have to see him.

“I gotta go now, Hyuck. My moms calling me, I’ll be right back,” you could see the rejection flash in his eyes as he sighed and let you hang up. You felt horrible. But you were going over to see him. And hopefully that would make him feel better. At least a bit.

It was a long twenty minutes of Hyuck scrolling through his phone, waiting for a call back from you and those intrusive thoughts came back.

Were you starting to grow tired of him too? Why were you taking so long?

A knock was heard on the door. First came in Taeyong, and soon after, you. The man audibly gasped and got up from his bed to finally have you in his embrace.

“Are you not tired, my love?” You brushed your fingers through his hair.

“Not really. We have something to do tomorrow so there’s not really any point of me forcing myself to sleep,” he looks over to the digital clock. Just past midnight, “I guess later on.”

The room grows quiet. You’re both laying on your sides with Hyuck’s face hiding in your chest with your fingers running through his locks and your chin rested on the crown of his head.

All goes well until the tears managed to escape the sockets of his eyes. Immediately, you unwrap your arms and look down at the love of your life.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong, my love?” Almost everything is more gentle now than ever before and you grow even more worried, looking at the idol in front of you.

“I just… I don’t know how long I can do this. I’m so grateful to have these opportunities for my members and I but, god, I’m so sick of feeling like this. I feel more incomplete than I ever have but being apart of the industry is so important to me. It’s all I’ve ever known and I’m completely terrified to think of where I’d be without it but…” He breaks down once more, with you wrapping your arms around him so he can let out all of the tears he’d been so selflessly hiding.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere,” you shush him, which only prompts him to cry even harder.

“You’re completely valid to have those thoughts, angel. I know how hard you work, and although I don’t know really know what you go through, it’s okay to have those thoughts and have those days. It’s so completely unfair for your company to use you for the income, and I don’t even have words to express the disrespect I have for your company to be treating you and your members like that, but I’m right here. Let it all out and I’ll be here waiting for you to cry out all of your emotions at the end of every day.”

You repeat those words over and over again as the sobs coming out of Lee Donghyuck breaks your heart into trillions of pieces. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable before and you’re thankful that he’s opened up to you but every fiber in your being wants to punch every person that’s ever made Hyuck feel like this. Starting with his godforsaken company.

No words are further exchanged as he falls into his well deserved slumber.

You, on the other hand, don’t rest a bit that night, wanting to nurture every hurt that Donghyuck feels and has felt for the past decade.

Strong is too vague of a word to describe Donghyuck pushing through everyone in the industry to get where he is today. With every bit of criticism and drawback, he handles it like a god and doesn’t complain.

Lee Donghyuck is strong. He is the strongest person you know, inside and out and he only deserves the best. You never want him to feel like this again. You’d fight every person who’s ever made Donghyuck feel, in honest words, like shit.

He deserves all the love he puts out into the world.

[maddithefangirl]

Exhausting (Azriel x Reader)

Warnings: AnGsT

Prompt: “I’m not sure love is supposed to be so exhausting.”

a/n: hiya! As I was writing this, I came across the idea of using the perfume mentioned in this fic as the basis for another fic. I'm thinking like an HP love potion type thing, but like the reader is Lavender Brown-ish. Idk. Let me know if that's something you would read.

*＊✿❀✿＊**＊✿❀✿＊**＊✿❀✿＊**＊✿❀✿＊**＊✿❀✿＊*

You were having tea with Mor when you finally broke down.  

“I just… I haven’t seen him in so long… what if he’s found someone else while he’s been away?” you said quietly. 

“Nonsense! That male is crazy about you,” she replied. 

“But… doesn’t he miss me? I mean, I miss him, so shouldn’t he be dying the same way I am?”

“I’m sure he does. Why don’t you talk to Rhys? He would know his brother’s feelings.”

“You know I don’t like to bother him… maybe you could ask him?”

“You know I love you, but no, hun, this is something you need to do for yourself, and you know that.”

You grumbled, “Fine. He should be home in a few days now anyways.”

…

After a couple of days, you began to worry. He should have been back by now, but for some reason, he wasn’t. You finally decided to call on Rhys for some answers. 

You called to Rhys in your mind, and suddenly he was there in the doorway to your townhouse. His wicked grin was plastered all over his face mocking you, “I wondered how long it would take you to reach me.”

You frowned, “And you were just waiting on my call?”

“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t.” 

“Well then, spit it out. Where is he now?”

“Is that really the question you want answered right now?”

You huffed, “...No.”

He gave you another wicked grin.

“How is he?”

“Bingo!” he all but shouted, “Well, your lover is doing great. Spending a long time in his chambers of the Hewn City.”

The thought of him doing well without you was agonizing. You frowned. 

Rhys was surprised by your expression but would never admit so. 

“Thanks, Rhys. You can go,” you said back. 

And with that, he was gone. 

…

It was one month before you saw him again. It was a rainy afternoon, and you had just come from the Rainbow taking a piano class. You were walking in the street, and you saw the magnificent pair of wings there. At first, you expected it to be a mirage, but his hands caught your eye. You knew those hands anywhere. 

You almost run to him before seeing him talking to a fae female. She was breathtaking. Honestly, one of the most beautiful females you had ever seen. 

That had made your entire body stop cold. 

She had her hands on his arm as she surveyed his beautifully blue siphons. 

This sight turned all your intrusive thoughts against you. The rain was seeping into your coat as you just stood there in the pouring rain. 

You close your eyes to hopefully stop the tears from falling, but when you look back up, he’s gone. 

…

It was now well into the night, and you were well into a bottle of amber liquor. 

All of a sudden, the door receives a knock upon it. You were almost too incapacitated to stand, but you were able to make it to the door. 

And there he was. 

There in the doorway was a shivering, soaked Azriel. Your lover…Or who you thought was your lover. 

You begin to shut the door on him, but his reflexes are too fast. He opens the door and takes refuge in your building. 

As you retreat to your lounge chair, a hand grabs your arm. Az doesn’t understand where this coldness is coming from. 

“Lover, we haven’t seen each other in some time… where are you going?” he asks solemnly. 

“Az…don’t call me that. Especially after how long it has been.”

“I did everything in my power to come home sooner, I promise.”

“Don’t start making promises now. I’m done.”

“Done? I don’t understand… what happened?”

“I heard how much of a great time you were having without me. Then I saw you today in town with another fae. I don’t need anything else from you I’m exhausted.” you said in almost a whisper, “I’m not sure love is supposed to be so exhausting.”

His heart had never felt such immense pain. The world he kept envisioning coming back to his lover… gone. 

There was a long pause with only the crackling of fire to break up the silence as he thought back on today.

He was walking around town trying to find the perfect gift to give his lover since he returned from his mission. There was just enough time between meetings for some time to himself, but all he could think about was you. 

As he came across a flower stall, a female fae approached him, asking him if he would like to attend her bakery’s grand opening. This wasn’t uncommon as the city was still rebuilding. She was shameless in her flirting, but that wasn’t what bothered him. The scent she was wearing was some kind of witch’s brew that was designed to manipulate people into doing what they wanted. She put her hand on his shoulder as he began to fly away. He had to tell Rhys of this at once. 

As the memory faded, he thought about how that looked and knew exactly what you had seen. 

“Come sit, Y/N, please,” he said as he reached for your hand. 

You complied and sat with him. He deserved that much. 

As you sat on the couch together, you finally realized what shape he was in. He was still soaking wet, and his hair was tousled in the most perfect way. But what struck you was the darkness under his eyes. He wasn’t as good as he had led Rhys to believe. You sighed in relief as you began to listen to him. He told you everything from how his mission went to the urgent meeting for the female’s perfume. 

After he said his piece, you hugged his neck. You had just gotten so in your head about everything you had forgotten to think about how Az truly feels about you. It wasn’t loving him that was exhausting, it was your mind that was exhausting. So you cried into his already wet tunic and fell asleep together on the couch.

[thatonebirdwrites]

Chapter 1 was Lena's Tale. Now we see how Lena is rescued and view Kara's Tale. I really wanted to dig deeply into Kara's trauma and grief for this chapter. Hopefully I showed that and her alien nature well. This was technically meant to be part of the first chapter, but that got too long, so I cut them into separate chapters. I decided to go ahead and post this instead of waiting too much longer. I'm eager to hear y'all's thoughts.

EXCERPT:

Kara Zor El sees Lex fall. Sees how he refuses to let her save him. How his hatred consumes all reason. She sees him collide with the ground. It breaks something in her. Her rule to never kill, and here she fails that one rule. His fall is due to her hand.

She thinks of Lena, who fought so hard to escape the Luthors. And yet it inevitably came to this final showdown, where Kara risks everything to stop Lex and protect Lena. The one person who doesn’t deserve this. She closes her eyes and whispers part of the Kryptonian prayer for the dead.

Lex isn’t Kryptonian, but she can amend it so it fits a more human background. It is something her and her parts devised after each death they fail to rescue.

It is inevitable, Red Daughter’s thoughts pierce her own. The newer part invokes a shiver of pain around Kara's mind at the intrusion. Alex does not stop.

It’s still not okay. How will Lena take it? Kara Zor El hates the thought of hurting her favorite person, especially like this.

Red Daughter has no words for that. During the fight with Lex, the Supergirl clone had merged with Kara, fracturing her carefully integrated mind yet again. But even absorbed as she was, Red Daughter does not hold the memories of Lena’s light in Kara’s life. Her only frame of reference is Lex’s words and the journal she stole from Kara Danvers. It'll mean another session with Brainy and J'onn, to help integrate Red Daughter into her system.

When she opens her eyes, the crater where Lex fell looks strange. Kara Zor El flies closer, and a dread eats through her. Odd scorch marks line its edges, but there is no sign of Lex’s suit. No crumpled metal, which if an object at high velocity impacted and exploded, there would be debris.

She lands baffled. “Alex,” she says as she taps her ear mic. “I think Lex escaped.”

“What? That’s impossible." Alex snaps, her stress masked by anger. Between the fight with Lex and the prior one where Red Daughter temporarily killed Kara — she still wonders at the use of sunlight to jump-start her heart. Alex said only that Lena made the device ages ago — both Alex and herself are exhausted. "He had no jets, no power left. There’s no way he’d survive that fall.”

Kara-Z takes a breath to steady her nerves. She will not let anger overtake her. It is not her at which Alex fumes but Lex. “That was my assessment, but there’s no sign of the debris. Unless he vaporized right when he hit the ground, he must have activated portal tech. We know prototypes of it were stolen during Mercy's attack on L-Corp. Do you think Lex miniaturized it?”

“Let me ask Brainy.”

Brainy clips into their channel. “Yes, I calculate a 99 percent chance he miniaturized it. I am doing a sweep of the area for the signals originating from the suit. It would still give off heat signatures due to the nature of your fight.”

It’s the best they can do. Kara-Z closes her eyes and focuses on her superhearing. She sorts through the overwhelming barrage of noise and zeros in on the heartbeats of her loved ones. That source of comfort keeps her mind still.

Alex and Brainy are safe at their meeting point. Dreamer and J’onn are rescuing the aliens at the power plant with Guardian and an DEO team. Kelly is at her apartment. Lena — where is Lena? She can’t hear her anywhere.

Fear clenches Kara-Z’s stomach. In the rush to stop Lex, Kara isn't entirely certain where Lena went. Her Danvers self had dealt with that conversation, and there hasn't been time to meditate and fuse each's memories into one timeline.

“I must check on Lena,” she tells Alex. Before her sister can protest, she blasts toward the upper layers of the atmosphere. There it is easier to hear far beyond her usual range. Ice forms on the suit and her hair. She stops and closes her eyes.

Still nothing. No, Lena cannot be dead. Kara’s heart constricts, and a rising panic grips her.

Think, Друг-Я, Red Daughter says, using the Russian for ‘friend-self.’ Does not lead hide signals?

Right. Lead definitely would. Hope blooms. She still has a chance to find Lena.

Meditation and mind curating were skills taught to her on Krypton, honed in the temples, utilized in the endless void of the Phantom Zone, and perfected under J’onn’s guiding hand. The safe space in her mind is a garden on Argo, full of her favorite plants and creatures. There her Danvers self rests, and only rouses when Kara-Z imagines herself gently touching her other self's shoulder.

Danvers, I need your knowledge. Where did Lena go?

Zor El? Kara-D’s thought is laced with uncertainty and worry. Sure, yeah, I'll share the memory, but you're not going to like it. I really did try to stop her.

[witchypandamonium]

A Knight's Honor

A collection of Luis/Reader snippets

This chapter: the lab. Luis and Leon fulfill their promises to you & Ashley.

Chapter 2 of ? Occurs during Chapter 15-16 of game 4,788 words, SFW No warnings Tags: Luis x f!Reader | AU | Luis lives

ao3

The ride to Saddler’s island wasn’t too bad, at least at first. Efrain’s boat was exactly what you expected of a smuggler’s ship–a little ramshackle, patched and pieced together with spare parts, but fast as the wind and draped in a tarp painted to blend in with the brackish waters of the sea. He’d even had enough to spare that he’d made a little den for “Huey” (turns out he’d been the one taking care of the stray, and he was loathe to leave the dog to fend for himself) to feel more secure on clearly his first boat ride.

Your left arm was bound to your chest to prevent further injury should you forget and attempt to use it, as well as to try and deaden the pain a bit (Tylenol could only do so much). It was, admittedly, a little annoying and hugely inconvenient, but you’d rather suffer through it, using all of that proprietary Umbrella drug on Luis’s much more serious wound, than to split it and risk his life further down the line. The healthy color in his skin and pep in his step returning after your shared rest was all you’d needed to be secure in your choice.

When the island came into sight through the mist and spray, however, Ef were forced to pull up to a small outcropping of rocks, still hundreds of meters from the shore, and cut all but the smallest engine. “Saddler’s eye may be focused on the American,” the merchant explained, “but from the radio chatter I’ve managed to tap into, they still have a small contingent on the towers watching the coast. If we follow this archipelago and keep down the noise, we should be able to slip in without detection.”

The thought of Saddler taking control of you again made your nerves buzz like a hive of bees in your chest, clutching your wounded left hand even tighter to your chest. You prayed he and Luis were right, that Leon was really putting pressure on Saddler as he grew ever closer to taking Ashley back; too much pressure for the cult leader to notice one little outlier sneaking in right under his nose.

Two broad arms enclosed you from behind as Luis, sensing your anxiety, pulled you against him. “It’s alright, querida,” he murmured against your temple. “We’re almost there. Then we can finally get rid of that damn plaga. You’re almost free.”

Giving one of his hands a grateful squeeze, you focused on taking a few calming deep breaths and quashing those intrusive thoughts that were convinced of your failure. Yes, the odds seemed impossible, but you had to try. Even if there was only a slight chance, it was still a chance–0.00000001-to-1 odds was technically better than 0-to-1.

“How do you feel?” that raspy voice continued, softer, gentler.

Terrified. But of course he meant physically, medically.  “O-okay… a little pressure in my head, but… nothing too out of the ordinary.”

“Good. Hopefully it will stay that way, but Saddler had been experimenting on ways to influence acceleration of the maturation of the plaga when I escaped. We don’t know what he’ll do if he starts getting desperate.”

Great, staying calm was impossible now. You had to keep your eyes focused on the waves lapping against the rocks to keep from dissolving into a nervous wreck.

“Calmaté,” he squeezed you tighter, holding your trembling hand in his, “Ef and I know a route through the sea caves that leads to a cove right under Saddler’s castle. We can take one of the hidden maintenance walkways straight up to my lab–barely anyone uses them. No patrols, no cameras. We’ll be in before they even have a chance to notice.”

You knew he was trying to reassure you, and you so desperately wanted to do as he said, but you just couldn’t shake that feeling of wrongness, that crawling sensation under your skin that increased whenever you neared an area of increased plaga influence–perhaps specifically whenever you drew close to one of the entities possessing the dominant strain. The nausea, the subtle feeling of intoxication, the way the dark coloring of your veins intensified…

You watched the darkness of a vein on the inside of your wrist beginning to pulse to your heartbeat, almost meditative, losing all sense of time, when suddenly darkness fell over you. You realized that you’d successfully reached the island and slipped into one of the cave passages he’d talked about. It was almost beautiful, the way the light refracted off the water and danced along the sparkling stalactites on the cave ceiling. Almost. The water was too brackish, smelling of rot, and occasionally you’d spot a rivulet of black ichor seeping down the rock walls rather than water. And it was too quiet, you realized–not a single sea bird call could be heard, no doubt all dead from disease or plaga predation long ago. Occasionally you’d hear the pop of distant gunfire, a few bursts, then all would fall silent again. Odd how it brought you a bit of comfort–it meant Leon was still alive and fighting his way to Ashley.

Luis was the first to hop off the boat when you reached the “cove”, really a thin strip of sand barely big enough to fit a grown man lying down, holding out a hand to help you with a little chivalrous quirk to his smile. The sand was slippery with slime, a little worn channel stained red from the drainage water flowing from a heavily-rusted pipe at shin-height that jutted out from a narrow passage chiseled in the rocks.

“No wonder no one uses them,” you couldn’t help but chuckle, glad you had at least a little humor left.

It seemed to ease Luis’s mind a little as well, the scientist giving you an encouraging pat on the back as he gestured to Efrain. “One last time–radio check?”

The smuggler held one speaker of the old headset to his ear, eyes narrowing beneath the shadows of his hood. “Chatter’s gone quiet, which means Saddler’s probably using the hivemind exclusively now. Either he’s gotten wise to third-party intruders or Leon’s really putting the screws to him. Last I heard there was trouble going on at the base of the mountain. Odds are the American’s managed to break through the gate to the keep.”

“Knowing Leon? Por supuesto,” Luis chuckled, giving you a reassuring wink. Stepping up into the crevice that was just big enough for him, he held out his hand, “Alright, stay close.”

You didn’t let go, even as you stepped into the darkness.

The passage was almost pitch black, even when your eyes adjusted, only the occasional weak red light giving you any idea of your surroundings. It was a disorienting, suffocating maze, the air thick as water (you hoped it was just water) seeped from unseen cracks and dripped slowly down the mineral-coated, rough-hewn stone walls, but Luis marched ahead confidently, never for a moment hesitating at each intersection.

Not knowing how far sound would carry, nor how thick the walls were, you whispered, “You memorize the route?”

“Absolutamente,” he replied with a brief glance back at you, tone similarly hushed but still playful–something you were beginning to learn he did on purpose to ease your nerves whenever fear or doubt started creeping in. “This was my way out. Time was of the essence–I only had a few hours at most to get somewhere safe before Saddler realized I’d removed the plaga.”

Sometimes you almost forgot just how smart Luis was–the flirting and light-hearted joking were quite effective smokescreens. His gentle, reassuring squeeze of your hand told you quite plainly he understood and didn’t mind.

The column of light that materialized ahead of you was almost a welcome relief. Almost. Problem was what it illuminated.

A ladder.

This was going to be tough.

“Almost there. Normally I’d say ‘after you’,” Luis murmured as he removed the bandages pinning your arm to your chest, “but I think you’re going to need me up above with a safety line, hm?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Thankfully a quick search revealed a rope hanging from a nearby pipe, and after one end was secured to the waist of the Spaniard and the other to you, the both of you began the ascent.

Hooking your elbow on the rungs worked well enough, but it was a bit of an ordeal, your wet shoes slipping while trying to step up more than once. Still, right hand gripping white-knuckled as you clung so hard with your left arm you were sure to have bruises on your ribs, you managed to avoid testing the strength of Luis’s knot-tying. You were so focused on following the very deliberate order of operations required for safe ascent–step, right hand, left elbow, step, repeat–that you didn’t notice the faint whispering on the peripheral of your senses, nor the pressure beginning to build behind your eyes (nor the occasional opportunity to check out Luis’s ass). It was only when you finally reached the top level, Luis gently lifting you by the waist to help you onto the platform, that your ears started to ring.

…my flock…

“You alright, ¿mija?”

You felt something warm under your nose, reaching up to realize it was bleeding. “Something’s wrong…”

Just over Luis’s shoulder, you saw two bright, pale blue eyes floating behind him. The area was well-lit and plainly empty, yet the gaze stared defiantly into your soul.

The American… kill…

A moment later the pulse hit you like a freight train.

You’d felt it once before, shortly after you’d entered Ramón’s castle. It was weaker then, when an ominous cultist in red robes had compelled the rapid growth of the other cultists’ parasites, the horrifying, bloated worms bursting their hosts’ heads as they continued to puppet their bodies toward you. Those plaga had already matured enough to completely control their hosts before, however. This… the agony, the twitching of your muscles as something worked to control them, the oddly intoxicating brain-fog, the voice. You knew instantly.

Saddler.

He must not reach the girl! Rise, my flock! Stop him at all costs!

You were only vaguely aware of your collapse, seizing as all your neurons fired at once, body struggling to override the various chemicals and electrical signals the parasite pumped into you as it began to seize control, tearing its way to your spinal column. As though underwater, you barely heard Luis’s muffled voice, the panic the only thing you managed to make out.

Not like this! You didn’t want to turn into one of those things! You didn’t want everything you to effectively die as a creature locked you inside your own body, a puppet at the mercy of one madman’s aspirations. Did the ganados even know what they were doing? Were they forced to watch as their bodies moved on their own, poorly mimicking mundane life routines and murdering any poor innocent that got in the way? Or did they die slowly, painfully, the internal damage too much, unable to even cry out as their entire essence was slowly donned by this foul creature as some grotesque disguise? You didn’t want to find out which nightmare was to be your fate. Please, no!

And then a cold wave washed over you, starting as but a pinpoint of light in the dark, bloody sea you were drowning in, but it spread quickly. But rather than scooping you from the foul, roiling waters, it was like being cast from one ocean into another, then being held under. At least it was quiet, the overwhelming susurrus dying away as the lightning firing throughout your body fizzled, leaving you exhaustedly adrift with only the pounding of your own pulse in your ears.

The suppressant. The last little bastion of conscious thought in the corner of your mind was amazed that it was at all effective at this point. You couldn’t make much out after that. The agony of something ripping through you, sinking its claws into your very molecules, was replaced with a pulsing soreness, like you’d just finished the most intense workout of your life.

Anything outside of yourself came through a thick, syrupy filter; blurry, echoing, smearing.

You were floating barely above the surface of a mercury ocean, light reflecting off the ripples of liquid silver, obscuring much else from perception.

Murky figures in black robes hung like upside-down statues, passing one after the other like pillars in some submerged cathedral.

A low thudding, the distant, rhythmic thunk like that of an axe hitting wood, sounded somewhere beyond your deadened heartbeat, the gavel of some divine magistrate delivering judgment.

Carried by the waters, you were laid upon a plinth of stone as the waves washed the entrails of some dead, mighty sea serpent, across you. First one, then another, and another, until you couldn’t move beneath them.

Three suns rose in the misty gray sky, flitting like fireflies across the heavens. They brightened, then, until all you could see was white.

And then you were filled with a new agony, burning from the inside out, reality jumping from surreal and mildly unsettling to stark, pinpoint-clear pain. You knew you were screaming, but you could barely hear it above the shrill buzzing that had swallowed all. You couldn’t move, held down as you were, couldn’t escape this lance of pure, tortuous sunlight as it struck a void of writhing darkness lodged inside you like shards of glass. Shrieking, shattering, combusting. The only thing that anchored you, saving you from getting lost in the pain, was a strong hand gripping yours, keeping you from digging your nails into your wounded palm or tearing open the stitches, barely in the periphery of your perception. A lighthouse in a dark, foggy night.

Then, just like that, it was over. You had never felt so drained before in your life, wrung dry and pummeled into a fine powder. The last thing you heard before blessed darkness took you was a familiar voice gasping,

“İGracias a Dios!”

•••

You awoke slowly, hazy, formless dream and reality blending together as your senses slowly recalibrated after such a traumatizing experience. The first thing you could properly discern (other than the full-body soreness) was that same warm hand holding yours, a soft, familiar voice mumbling barely audible Spanish. Eyes cracking open, the bright, clinical light of the lab was almost painful, the world a bright, hazy mess for several moments. As things began to focus, you slowly turned your head to see Luis seated at your bedside, holding your bandaged hand between his as he rested his forehead against it. You could somewhat understand what he was whispering, recognizing the words enough to discern them as Catholic prayers.

“After all that’s happened…” your voice felt like sandpaper, but you had to say something—he looked so pitiful, “…I’m amazed you still believe in a god, let alone pray to him.”

Luis’s head snapped up, eyes glistening but bright as a smile uncharacteristically lacking of any sass or flirtiness bloomed across his face, almost as blinding as the lab lights.

“I’d pray to anything that’d bring you back to me, querida,” he rumbled, voice as sweet as syrup.

You couldn’t help but snort. “Maybe a poor choice of words when we’re in the heart of a cult compound.”

“Not when we’re finally safe in their blind spot.”

Trying to sit up suddenly in shock and excitement earned you a wave of lightheadedness and Luis’s gentle hand guiding you back down to the bed you’d been deposited on. That brief angle, however, did allow you to see a very important face—one you feared you might not ever see again.

“Ashley!”

The President’s daughter traipsed over with a grin like pure sunshine, her skin finally a healthy peach tone completely devoid of any dark veins. “How are you feeling?”

“Not as good as you,” you chuckled wryly, not even trying to hide your envy.

“You hit your head pretty hard back there, mija,” Luis crooned, affectionately brushing the hair from your face as he tapped the bandage wrapped around your forehead. “Mild concussion, I’d say.”

Well that certainly tracked with the hallucinations you’d experienced earlier. You hadn’t even noticed the wraps until he pointed them out to you. “What about Leon?”

“Never better.”

You almost shot back up again, though Luis anticipated this and was already holding up a scolding finger and tutting sternly. And so you simply craned your neck to see the agent look up from the papers he was studying on a nearby table, similarly looking hale and healthy, gifting you with a rare, subtle smile. “Glad to see you finally awake.”

It was hard to quite make sense of what you were seeing and what this meant—most likely thanks to the concussion. “How long was I out?” If you were all together again, and this was indeed Luis’s lab, then that meant…

You were all cured.

The answer of “Thankfully only about an hour,” from Luis was barely registered as a wave of emotions washed over you, each vying for control in an almost overwhelming rush. It was hard to even realize that you were crying as one thought managed to push to the forefront:

You’d done it.

You were safe, and all of you were alive.

“No no no no, cariño,” There was a hint of panic in the Spaniard’s eyes as he gently brushed away your tears with calloused thumbs, the kind of vicarious distress of a parent upset to see their child upset.

…or a lover.

No, you chalk that one up to the concussion—the likelihood of that was even lower than you all surviving this.

Ashley joined Luis in calming you with a gentle hand stroking your arm, a much-needed diving-line that helped guide you back to the surface. “You okay?”

“We did it?” you whimpered.

“We did it,” Baby Eagle confirmed with a squeeze of your shoulder.

“Not quite.”

A part of you wanted to roll your eyes (though it probably would’ve made you nauseous; Luis did so in your stead, muttering a clipped “Oye, time and place, Sancho!”). Leave it to Leon to be the party pooper. But by now you knew full-well just how reliable the agent’s instincts were and understood that he wasn’t so much pessimistic as realistic. First he analyzed the problem, and then he always presented a solution.

So you know he’d continue. “Saddler may not have control over us anymore, but he’s still a threat. I’m going to take care of the psychopath once and for all.” The satisfying sound of pistols being primed rang through the lab as he clearly prepared for a confrontation. “Luis, meanwhile, is going to get you and Ashley to evac.”

“And he’ll be right behind us once he’s done,” the Spaniard added, anticipating your protest. “We’ve got it all planned out—Leon’s got the map, Efrain’s got enough explosives rigged to convince Saddler’s private army that American backup’s finally arrived from the east, while I get you two señoritas to his boat at the western dock. All you need to do is take it easy.”

You couldn’t help but feel there were still a few loose ends swinging in the proverbial wind. “Weren’t you trying to negotiate an exchange with someone for escape before all of this? What about them?”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “I’m sure they can take care of themselves. Besides, I lost the goods thanks to Leon’s old buddy back in the caves. Ef will get us out of here for a US pardon. Trust me.”

While you couldn’t help but still be anxious, you did trust him, so you bit back any further objections.

As Leon headed for the door, Ashley stepped away to reach Efrain on the comm, leaving you and Luis alone for one last quiet moment.

His hands were still cupping your face, thumbs idly stroking your cheekbones. “I promised I’d get you out of here,” he murmured gently, “just like I promised I wouldn’t let you turn into one of them. We’re almost there, mija.”

And then he was leaning down to brush the softest of kisses to your forehead, quickly, barely more than a peck. Had his touch not kept you anchored in reality, you’d have been certain you were hallucinating. That couldn’t have been real. He couldn’t… You reached up to catch him before he could retreat too far, analyzing every micro-emotion that flashed in those gray eyes.

Surprise. Confusion. Realization.

Hope.

Amor. He’d said amor then, back in the foreman’s office. You hadn’t imagined it in your exhaustion. And his eyes said it again now, clear as a bell, amidst that shock identical to yours that you could feel the same.

Slowly you pulled him back, giving him every chance to stop you.

He didn’t. Not even when your lips touched his.

In fact, he leaned in, head tilting to better slot against you as his fingers crept to your hairline. It was relatively chaste, barely a hint of moisture felt, but it was like a fatal crack splitting a mighty dam in two; the completing of a circuit that launched a thousand fireworks. Luis, seemingly unwilling to bear parting from you for more than a breath, hissed a heated “Ay, mi vida,” before he swiftly closed the distance again, this time with searing intensity. You readily yielded to his tongue, welcoming him into the cavern of your mouth as you arched off the bed, desperate for more contact he was all too happy to provide, one large hand at the small of your back as he supported his weight above you on his opposite forearm. His scent washed over you–leather, tobacco, sandalwood, and traces of gunpowder–giving a pleasant, dreamy haze to your already floaty senses. You could be quite content to get lost in this moment forever, but the fingertips creeping just under the hem of your shirt whispered heated promises of more; of adoration showered upon you until the stars burst, just as soon as you were away from this place.

It felt at once too long and too short when you finally broke apart for air, a different kind of tears welling your eyes as they met his bright, shining quicksilver ones.

“Is this real?” you whispered, weak voice quivering in a mix of disbelief and joy.

Luis chuckled, the sound kindling a fire in your chest so warm you knew it’d never go out–your heart would become dependent on it. “After all that’s happened,” his smile took on that wry slant that had charmed you from the very start, mischief in his voice as he turned your words back on you, “I’m surprised this is what you have trouble believing.”

You clapped a hand on his face and shoved him away with a scoff, regretting rolling your eyes as you confirmed your hypothesis—it immediately made you dizzy.

He simply laughed good-naturedly and sat back in his chair, saying in a voice loud enough for Leon and Ashley to hear, “Alright, let’s get you two señoritas out of here,” adding in a lower, hushed tone for just you, “so I can show you just how real this is…” subtly adjusting his pants to relieve some… discomfort as he stood.

Your head went blank as your face went hot. How the fuck did he manage to do that? This wasn’t the first time he made something that could be misconstrued as creepily lewd instead so subtly hot that it short-circuited you. You’d always brushed it off, however–he was just a flirty guy, after all, and certainly would never be seriously interested in you.

And now here he was, his lascivious smirk tempered by the earnest adoration in his eyes as he offered a hand gallantly to help you up, even kissing the back of yours afterwards like a proper knight. You’d gone through hell, but it seemed you’d come out the other side with something… wonderful.

Now wasn’t the time, however. Now you had to concentrate on standing upright without swaying too much as you heard Ashley say into the comm, “Hit it.” You felt the vibration in the floor before the sound of a distant, muffled explosion caught up to it, triggering an immediate alarm that bathed you in red as sirens blared.

Leon, standing at the ready by the eastern door, met your eyes one last time. His trained neutral expression was oddly warm, comforting as only Leon could make it. Then, with a sharp nod, he was gone.

Fear immediately started bubbling up in you again, but Luis was right beside you in an instant, arm at your back to keep you steady and usher you through after him. Ashley then took his place as he drew his Red 9 and took the lead to heroically guide the three of you to the docks.

The distraction worked–the remarkably short route was empty of any opposition, and in what felt like no time at all you were being helped back into Efrain’s boat, the smuggler still cackling to himself about what a panic he’d stirred up. No, what ended up being the most difficult was the waiting afterwards. Retreating from the docks to anchor as close to the northern cliffs as they safely could, somewhere they wouldn’t be seen unless the witness was standing right at the edge, they had to sit in perfect silence, praying that Leon would be successful in whatever he’d planned to do to neutralize Saddler.

When the alarm stopped, you started fidgeting. When the gunshots started up again, you were trembling, welcoming the shelter of your knight’s arms–his coat was even opened up for you to burrow further within, perhaps because he thought you might also be shivering from the cold oceanic wind (a real possibility, but your head was too scrambled to really isolate any one sensation or emotion). Ashley was remarkably calm, brow barely creased in concern, as she kept her eyes squarely trained on the northern platform; the lack of a concussion probably helped, though being the President’s daughter she no doubt was already familiar with dealing with crises.

The roar that came next, however, made the whole boat flinch. You caught a glimpse of a massive, bladed tentacle thrash over the platform before you drew quickly back to the safety of Luis’s coat, pressing as close to his warm chest as you possibly could, screwing your eyes shut tight.

Trust him, you kept repeating to yourself, trust him trust him trust him. For once Saddler’s angry–that’s a good sign. Just trust him.

One shot. Two. Three.

Another roar.

Then silence fell again.

How exactly you missed the sound of the helicopter that approached the platform, you weren’t sure. You felt more than heard Luis’s chuckle. “I knew it,” he muttered to himself.

When another explosion hit, Ef quickly barking, “That’s not mine!” the panic started again. It soon became apparent that there were more being set off in a massive chain that stood to potentially level the whole keep. The smuggler was so desperate to get the anchor up that he was aiding the winch with his own hands, no doubt giving himself some pretty bad rope burn for his troubles, but it helped them gun the engine to a safe distance that much quicker.

But wait…

Was… was that the sound of another boat engine? It wasn’t the helicopter–it seemed to have vanished just as suddenly as it had appeared, the smoke covering its escape. You built up the courage to peek out from your jacket shelter.

Leon!

It was Leon! Shooting out from some hidden cave, the agent just managed to outpace the island’s collapse on a pilfered jet ski, none to worse for wear. A rare bright, boyish smile broke through his look of concern and concentration as he spotted you all–the last thing you saw clearly before your vision was swimming in tears again.

He did it.

You were free.

The evening was a blur after that. You remembered crying and cheering and so many hugs. Leon must have managed to contact whatever secret service department he was working for, as at some point you were intercepted by a Navy ship of some sort, which passed you to a carrier, where two helicopters were waiting–one for Ashley, the other for the rest of you. The last thing you remembered was dimly marveling at how fast the aircraft was before you fell asleep, Luis never once letting you go.

[sonkitty]

Bookend Buddies Part 2 - Crowley and Muriel

(For reference: Bookend Buddies - Crowley and Muriel) Here is more on Crowley and Muriel, stronger emphasis on Muriel overall.

Matchbox Muriel Scene #2

I missed something about Matchbox Muriel scene 2.

This type of thing is where this Earthly Objects game gets ludicrous with the touching details. Skip ahead to the next bold heading if "properly avoided thumb tip and used thumb well enough" is a good enough explanation.

When Muriel brings out the matchbox, they are seen from a distance with a thumb visibly touching it and probably a bit of shadow on the matchbox where maybe, possibly, conceivably there is a thumb tip involved. The index, middle, and ring fingers hold the matchbox from the bottom with the palm facing upward. Eventually, we'll see more clearly that it is the fingers doing the touching and not the palm. Muriel is going to keep those three fingers and palm in that position, so hopefully that means we can take note and focus on the thumb stuff...but alas, we also have to watch that pinky finger as well.

As the gesture continues, it is clear that the thumb is touching it but not the ever so vital important thumb tip that I said could be like a password or sets on Door Mode. If the thumb tip was touching it when Muriel first started showing the matchbox, the shadow earlier did just enough to cast doubt and not fully activate this super suspicious matchbox.

Remember, I said thumbs are a big deal in this game and so are thumb tips.

Another cut shows all of the angels from a distance, including Muriel.

Soon, in another cut, Muriel draws close to Uriel, further confirming that their right thumb is touching the matchbox and the thumb tip is not touching the matchbox.

When Michael indicates they want Muriel to set it down with a look and Muriel does so, they make a small pocket with their hand itself in the motion. This pocket is between the thumb and...something. The hand itself will suggest that it if it is not the index finger, the pocket is between the thumb and side of the matchbox that the thumb was touching.

The camera cuts in more closely on the hand. In this closer view of the hand, the thumb is touching a corner, and the thumb tip is definitely not touching the matchbox. Meanwhile, the pinky finger is questionably finally doing something on the other side and touching it.

The other three fingers do most of the work otherwise in letting this object be set down.

All of that is a long-winded way to say that Muriel's methodical manner of the touch is probably why the matchbox sounded like a disguised magical book that didn't fully activate whatever it is hiding when Muriel set it down. The matchbox did not sound that way when Michael touched it. It sounded like a matchbox. Michael showed digits but really only used their index fingers the entire time for actual touches directly onto the matchbox. I'm not getting into whatever conceivable pockets Michael made with their fingers since the end result was still a matchbox that sounded like a matchbox.

...

Boxes

I mentioned the boxes and missed a box thing. It's not much, but still...

Crowley is holding the cardboard box of plants when he enters with Muriel waiting. That means one of them was touching a cardboard box on their first encounter of the given draft of the story that keeps hinting there's a cardboard box thing related to these two.

...

Intrusion

I mentioned in the last post that Muriel intruding in episode 3 has no hint of their past friendship with Crowley except maybe a look when they bring out their notepad.

Well, that's still how things seem, but I'll also go ahead and say that this type of thing usually means or hints that there was a reason Muriel intruded. As in, they did it on purpose because they have something to gain from that choice beyond what it looks like on the surface. If Muriel has something to gain, Crowley might have something to gain too.

This prospect intrigues me so much. What could that intrusion have possibly accomplished? It's always looked like a special example of Rule Following in Earthly Objects.

...

Pocket Frame

I think I found that Muriel has a Pocket Frame during their part of the Trick, and it's...

Angel Arms.

I am amused by that one. I'm not sure if that's the exact frame because the best lighting clue I could find was the shine on the Earth button. I couldn't find a clue in another thing I will share further below.

Since Muriel wears all white, that might be part of why they were able to take so long to get a Pocket Frame during a Threshold Trick. I'll bet their helmet helps somehow, but I cannot fathom how I will ever figure that one out. I'll point out that you can see the white helmet is within the white columns of light behind Muriel, at least.

The Triple (Heaven)

I still have not figured out the simple explanation of the threshold being tricked, but I think I am getting close. I cannot truly see it no matter how many times I look. The doors closing slowly is where I sense I'm supposed to see it. I've hit a wall again so probably won't get all the way there, but still, I will share with anyone interested where I am.

It has to do with the window panes looking like "cells". There are also "bars" due to the vertical lights and narrowing closure of the doors. These parts are reminiscent of a jail cell. In the Double, the simple explanation is that Crowley "switched lanes," so "cells" or "bars" or "middle" might be in the desired phrase.

The "arrest" is a clue to whatever this explanation is because Crowley says, "You're arresting me, why would I be trying to trick you?" Since he's talking within the threshold after doing certain pocket-related things, that is very, very likely to be a clue.

Believe me, it is. In the Pocket Trick Triple Part 2 he says, "Do you need a lift somewhere?" as the clue that the Pocket Frame is "between cars".

So, whatever the explanation is, I suspect it's related to the threshold thinking Muriel is arresting Crowley.

When the doors close, Crowley's upper body and head are specifically framed within 3 cells for a threshold that has 3 buttons representing what is making that threshold the Triple.

See:

What is the significance of breaking apart the mouth from the chin? I wish I knew. They should have an optional manual in a PDF when season 3 comes out to explain these things. I can't imagine God narrating and telling me that level of intricacy with so much necessary to move forward in whatever S3 does.

On the group's exit with the recently noticed Angel Arms Pocket Frame, I noticed yet another little clue of Muriel's assistance. They either create or change the nature of the pocket between digits on their left hand. It's enough to partly hide their thumb tip, the part I keep saying is super vital to thresholds. They also reveal more of their index finger, not sure how much of the tip of that finger is qualified for what it shows in the process.

It's hard to see, so let's zoom in:

Interesting. They are also making sure to do this movement as it gets darker in the elevator. I have taken note.

...

Last

I have often said that intuition tells me Crowley being first when it comes to using the Heaven elevator is supposed to be important. I don't know why, and I really want to know why, especially since it's a feeling and an unusually strong one. It is possibly related to the broken window and open doors of the bookshop during his trip—with the doors even being opened during his trip up.

Well, I still don't know why, but I recently noticed something about Muriel.

Just as Crowley prioritizes being first when it comes to using the elevator, Muriel prioritizes being last. It's not as noticeable because it's not like I get to see Muriel cross as many thresholds as Crowley. Their other "last" patterns are actually found elsewhere though the last of the last patterns is crossing a threshold, funnily enough. Maybe that's the clue I'm onto something.

During the entrance part of the Triple (using the Heaven elevator), Muriel follows Crowley both times. They follow him in. They follow him out. That makes sense. There is only two of them, and Crowley wants to be first.

But...

When it comes to the exit, Muriel is last in the sequence of Crowley, Saraqael, and Muriel on the trek toward the elevator. When the angels follow Crowley toward the bookshop, Muriel is last there too.

As already stated in the last post, they are also the one who closed the doors.

Here are some more "last" patterns found with Muriel:

In their second and third matchbox scenes, they are the last character introduced to the scene.

They imply their own rank is last with saying they did not know there was a rank down from theirs.

They have a back bookend scene to the last of the Singles that became the Triple of The Sunglasses Trick.

They are the assistant for the last part of The Bigger Thresholds Trick.

They are the assistant for the last part of The Pocket Trick.

Due to Muriel's presence in episode 6, they also are on the back bookend of these last parts of these Tricks.

Both The Bigger Thresholds Trick and The Pocket Trick are complex tricks because they take place over more than one episode. While Muriel could not be the assistant to the last complex Threshold Trick, The Sunglasses Trick, it is the one time they bookend a Crowley scene on both sides without being in it themselves, if one assumes Aziraphale's moment alone is still the argument scene that is and I am remembering things in general properly.

In the entire season, Muriel is the last character seen to open and close a door.

So, given all that and my theory that Muriel and Crowley are actually good friends, Muriel being last could be important too. The intuitive feeling isn't as strong, but the stronger one is pointing in that direction and saying it should be considered, especially when I find more and more "last" patterns once I take a look.

[orbmanson7]

Regarding the analysis with Janus giving Remus a good day. I thought just now that an interpretation of Remus' initial displeased expression to Janus offering the cards was specifically in reaction to what Janus' words are, "Pick one of these and we're going to do it.". Remus doesn't know that it's going to be activities he'll enjoy, so the ambiguous finality of "doing what in on the card no matter what" may be taken as engaging in tasks that are meant to quash who he is as a side?

Agreed, and I think I touched on that a tiny bit (though that may have only been in my notes).

Remus is extremely used to being pushed back and ignored, and while it seems like Janus knows him fairly well (from what little we've seen), that doesn't exclude Janus from contributing to reigning Remus in. In fact, if he was the one who supposedly 'unleashed' him in DwIT, that could indicate he typically helps keep Remus held back. But Remus, as we know, is not just intrusive thoughts, he's not 100% dangerous, and some of his ideas are very creative, if more mature than Thomas is used to getting from Roman, so he shouldn't be discredited automatically.

Janus being the one to validate some of his ideas is like the beginning steps of getting Remus some acceptance from Thomas, but it'll be a long process. Hopefully some acceptance from Roman is in store next, as that may help a lot, too.

But Remus, as he is now, as things currently stand, knows how he's perceived (he made that very clear in both DwIT and WtIT). He's currently desperate for attention in whatever form he can get it (having been pushed aside so much can cause someone to try for more extreme and negative reactions from their target), so receiving a more positive response via Janus is absolutely wonderful, but Remus probably didn't know what to expect when Janus explained what they were doing. Remus' authentic reaction is even better thanks to the positive result, but Janus could have easily proposed something else entirely and Remus probably wouldn't have cared because he was at least being paid attention to for once.

[cosmonaughty]

Storm: Emerie/Hemlock

[I wrote another short fic featuring Emerie and Hemlock's relationship before the events of TBB. It's sfw but I put it under a cut for easy scrolling]

A bright flash of lightning illuminated the room for an instant, followed closely by a clap of thunder so loud it jarred Emerie to sit straight up in her bed. She hadn’t been fully asleep to begin with; the storm had been building all day and as she had watched the dark clouds piling up off the coast of the small island, she’d anticipated a sleepless night. The isolated research station had been selected in part due to the region’s reputation for electrical storms, but their frequency didn’t make them any less frightening to her. 

Of course, she had been thoroughly educated about the island’s weather patterns when they had first arrived; she understood the components of lightning and the process by which thunder was created, but this understanding offered no relief on nights like this. The unpredictability of the storm was what truly made her anxious. She couldn’t rely on the gales of wind to follow reason; the rain ferociously beating against her window had no motivation she could explain. 

Still sitting up, she hugged her knees and exhaled slowly, waiting for the next lightning flash and the dreadful boom that would follow. Her gaze drifted toward the doorway. Soon another crash of thunder vibrated through her tiny quarters, and just as suddenly she was out of bed, leaping down the hall on bare feet.

  The corridor was only lit by the occasional flash of lightning, but she could just as easily find her destination in the pitch dark. No doubt, the beacon atop the research station was shining more brightly than ever through the sheets of rain, she thought, and the thought itself comforted her. Although it was small and craggy, the island was a stable presence in the surrounding sea, something that could be relied upon even in the most chaotic tempest.  

The door to Hemlock’s room slid open with an easy whisper, but he didn’t say anything or move at all until the crisp bed sheets crinkled under the weight of an extra body beside his.He wasn’t surprised. In a storm like this one, it was less a question of if Emerie would show up and more a question of when she would.

“Don’t you think you’re too old to still be doing this?”

 He didn’t lift his head or turn over, or even open his eyes as far as Emerie could tell as she huddled against his back, but the quality of his voice didn’t indicate that he had been asleep. He didn’t sound annoyed by her intrusion, more amused by her persisting habit. 

“No.”  She answered back in a tone that matched his in knowing affection. “And you don’t either, or you’d have started locking your door by now.”

“That wouldn’t be fair to you.” he reasoned. She made a noise of agreement as she buried herself up to her neck in the covers and rested her forehead gently between his shoulder blades. His right hand reached back and briefly graced her hair with a brush of his fingertips. 

Presently, he felt a light tap on his arm. 

“Go to sleep.” He said evenly. 

“Can I…?” 

Emerie’s voice trailed off as the doctor exhaled slowly, patiently. 

“Alright. If you promise you’ll go to sleep. Now’s not the time for conversation.”

“I promise.” She insisted hopefully. Hemlock turned from his side onto his back and moved his arm so she could crowd in closer to him, which she did eagerly. As she settled in, she rested her head over his chest and let her eyes finally fall closed.She remained like that for the rest of the night, lulled into easy sleep by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. 

[mara-and-its-the-same]

CONGRATS DELLA!!!! IM SO SUPER DUPER PROUD OF YOU <3

🌷 I was wondering if I could have a fluff blurb with Eddie? I struggle with anxiety and things being too much for me, so I was thinking Eddie comforting reader who is overwhelmed with school and life. Maybe a prompt could be, "c'mon...let's take a break and come back to this when we're ready."

This is usually something I do to stop my thoughts from running wild and stressing out...hopefully this is helpful, but please let me know if it's too complicated and I could totally do somethng more simple!!!

congrats again, della!!! 💘🌸🌟

Thank you 🥰🥰😚

It’s not too complicated, it’s lovely 💕(not proof read 😬)

You’ve been looking at this one page for an hour and a half, trying to sit down and get it done, but your brain didn’t seem to get the memo this was work time, not intrusive thoughts time. You think you have to be shaking with all the thoughts running around your body, a discordant orchestra of anxieties in a thunderstorm taking over your mind. You try to tell yourself you’ll be fine, it’s only one grade, your teachers like you well enough, they can be understanding. Not if they don’t like you as much as you thought they did, if this is the one time Mrs. Donner decides against partial cred—

A rapid knock in your window pulled your mind from your thoughts but the smile through the glass calmed you instantly.

“Hey sweetheart, let me in will ya? ‘S freezing out here.” You stood in front of him and pretended to contemplate it for a second, but how could you not give in to that face? It took two big pushes since the ice practically sealed it shut but as soon as there was enough space for him to get through, he ducked under and took your face in both hands. “Mornin’ sweetheart,” he mumbled against your lips and you pulled back, taking him with you since the open window was bringing in all the cold. He slid it shut and locked it then shot you a concerned look.

“Morning? Ed, it’s like 10 o’clock.”

“Baby it's 3:30, why're you still up?" He tossed himself onto your bed, still made from that morning.

"I was just–" you vaguely gestured to your desk, littered with papers. "Doesn't matter, why are you still up? Shouldn't you be home?"

"Wow, that's one way to treat a guest.”

“No–I just mean how did you get here. If it is 3, which I doubt, what are you doing here.”

"Well first of all," he picked up your alarm clock and shook it at you as much as he could with it still attached to the wall, the flashing 3:47 taunting you. "And second, I was coming home from the hideout and thought I'd take a shortcut. Then I saw your light was still on." and I was worried about you.

"Edda," it started as a joke, he always joked with you about how many times you'd call him over then immediately forget what you were going to say, so it always ended up 'Ed-uhhh' Sweetheart, you call me that so much it might as well be my name. "We're nowhere near the hideout."

"I know but I wanted to check up on you. What are you doing up?"

Your essay, fuck– your essay. "Uh, nothing, don't– don't worry about it, I'm fine. Just some school work." You rushed to sit back at your desk and started rereading to where you left off. "Don't uh– You can stay just..." you trailed off and started scribbling again. The final draft was due tomorrow and you've never turned in anything less than an 85, but that was a one off circumstance. You still had 4 hours to get it done, so close to the finish line, just this one transition sentence needs to start cooperating. If only you'd stop procrastinating... well can it really be procrastinating if it's your math set and your science lab, all due the day after but you hardly have any time at all tomorrow and, and, and...

"—Hey, you still in there, baby?" You blinked as you came back to yourself. "Hey, sweetheart." Eddie was crouched next to your seat, a hand on the back of your chair and one over your knee. He must have taken his jacket and boots off while you weren't paying attention.

"Sor–sorry, I'll uh..." you turned back to the page and reached for your pen but he reached across you for your hand before you could.

He shook his head and rubbed his thumb back and forth over the back of your hand. "C'mon," he nodded back towards your bed, "let's take a break and come back to this when we're ready."

"But it's–"

"I know what it is, and I know it's great, and I know we're gonna talk to Kelley tomorrow and figure it out." He stood up now, but leaning over you now. "Yeah?"

"Ok, but–"

"Enough with the buts, no buts. Except yours, in that bed." He smiled on one side at his own lame joke.

"That was so bad." He smiled even bigger when you stood up and let him put his arms around your waist.

"Mmm, but you love it."

"I'm not sure about that, but I love you so that'll just have to suffice."

"Suffice, it does. Your bed, m'lady."

"Thank you, kind sir." He pulled the covers down for you and gave you a look when you didn't get in. "Stay over?"

"Your dad'll kill me."

"So? You're like a cat, you've got 9 lives."

"A cat? How?"

"You're very cat like. A lil stray," you pouted and slid your hand down a curl framing his face, then lightly tugged the end. "My lil stray."

That didn't seem to convince him any further, "Stay, we have warm milk? Please?"

"Quit it with the cat jokes and I will."

"Yay!"

He slid in behind you and nudged your shoulder with his cold nose then a warm kiss. You laid in silence for a few minutes, he stopped his restless movements and when you were certain he was asleep, "meow."

He was not asleep and the way he said your name sounded like a threat to leave he'd never make good on.

"Shhh, shhh, sorry, sorry," you giggled and he laid back down beside you.

"Good night," he said with joking firmness.

"Goodnight....my kitten."

And he purred, this boy purred, freakishly realistic too.

He felt your laugh more than he heard it with the way you were pressed up against him.

[venusandsaturnsrings]

(first time asking anything on tumblr im real nervous) MY BRAIN IS THINKING,, i just found ur incel fics n im in love !! the cannibalism n drugging fic got me thinking,, what abt childe lobotomizing u so u cant think of anything else but bein his lil housewife, kyaaah im so sorry if this is stupid- its like 5am idk if im thinkin straight anymore,,

EEEEEE im so honoured to be your first tumblr ask hehe... hopefully this lives up to your love for my previous fics… cannibalism and drugging my beloveds <33 i love gross and horrifying evil men!! lobotomy has been on my mind believe it or not (>﹏<) enjoy!!

contains: incel themes, lobotomy ofc, abuse, manipulation, actual angst?, he regrets it lol

compliance wasn't close to Ajax's top priority. he was never one to shy away from a good fight and blood flowed to both his heads when he got one from you; he enjoyed your defiance. so why this was the route he took was unknown to even himself.

being tied down and naked wasn't new to you. it was rather common considering the relationship between yourself and the ginger in front of you. his knots were always well done and you couldn't get out no matter how hard you tried and this night was no exception. perhaps he was a bit inebriated and perhaps you shouldn't have pushed his buttons so hard. regardless, decisions had been made and there was nothing that could take back the words that had been spilled and the feelings that had arose. Ajax had always been a little bit off in every manner of life. he could only hide parts of it well and anyone that spent any amount of time with him could tell he wasn’t quite right. his mannerisms were odd to say the least. smiles that never reached his eyes, a lack of tenderness, minimal empathy… the list went on. oftentimes you felt as though he was something beyond human cursed to live in a body that wasn’t his own. a form manifested by punishment of divine will. he was the feeling of air too thick to breathe, grass sharp to the touch, and bones of prey left to rot in forests torn through by flames. Ajax was a tsunami formed by waves of violent nature; something to be feared, not loved. but you learned to care for him nonetheless. maybe it was his crushing presence that molded you into someone or something that couldn’t live without.

the room was cold but his hands were warm. caressing you all over he attempted to soothe your nerves but it did little to relax you. he whispered words of praise and coos that seemed more demanding that loving. you needed to relax and let him take the reins. it won’t hurt that much and you’ll feel far better afterwards than you ever had before. his hands wiped down your face with more care than you expected to come. the gauze soaked in liquid smelled like alcohol and had your eyes watering. with gloves and shaking hands he pulled your lips up into a smile saying that you’d always be happy from now on. Ajax pulled out a metal rod and lined it up with the inner corner of your eye; you felt more fear than you ever had before. you expected he was to blind you. to make your last moment of sight his face.

pushing the rod through and past your eyeball, you whimpered. the slow sliding wasn’t painful but you felt the pressure. every time you blinked he advised not to but with the intrusion you couldn’t help it. the pressure built up the further the rod went in and as he began swirling and poking it back and forth. drool dropped down your chin and he momentarily ceased his movements to lean down and lick it up before planting a wet kiss to your lips. soon enough, he retracted the long piece of metal and you were finally able to fully close your eyes. Ajax planted a soft kiss to each of your eyelids.

something wasn’t quite right and you knew that but you couldn’t place it. as the suffocating pounding in your head stopped, so did the terror and worries. the shift in your expression and body language must have been noticeable based on the pleased demeanour that decorated Ajax. he untied you with gentle hands and scooped you into his arms. with promises of washing you up and laying down for bed he carried you through the house. the bath you took was warm and the bed you laid in was comfortable. you curled into his body softly and pliantly much to his enjoyment. soft kisses were placed over and over again to the crown of your head and your nose before you finally fell asleep.

the next couple weeks were spent following his orders and clinging to his body at every chance. you gave Ajax pretty smiles and hung onto his every word. at first, his chest felt full at the change in behaviour. but slowly… he found himself missing who you were before. he had smothered your spark with his own hands for fear it would turn into a flame. you were no longer yourself and he mourned for the times he had before. rarely did he cry but on many nights you’d awake to his soft sobs. with worried eyes and soft hugs you’d ask what was wrong and how to help. he wouldn’t tell you for many moons but eventually he let out a soft mumble. ‘i miss how you were before.’ you didn’t understand. how you were before? i’m not any different, you responded with confusion clear as day and pain covered his face.

“you wouldn’t know the change. i did this to you, i’m the problem.”

[wishingstarinajar]

Hi, on anonymous because I'm shy, but a while ago, I saw your discord status talking about Genshin Impact, and I was wondering what you thought of it. Sorry if that's intrusive! I really like that game and wanted to know.

Le gasp, someone who knows me!... Maybe, haaai~

Genshin, yes (or Genshion, as I accidentally typo-ed it in my status and people were so kind to point out x'D). So my status said I was giving the game another try after leaving my account to rot for almost two years.

I made an account back then and tried to play but was so overwhelmed by it, I didn't find much enjoyment in it. I tried it long enough to get my adventurer rank to 7 or something, but I struggled hard with wrapping my head around the gameplay style. So I left it to the side.

Cue last week, when I brushed off my account and gave it another go.

Day one was hell: I had NO idea what was going on, I didn't remember anything, and once again I struggled with getting a hang of the playstyle. I was having no fun and decided to give up.

Day two was... okay: I figured I gave up too easily the day before and wanted to give the game another chance. It's a pretty game with nice designs and scenery, I like the soundtrack, and if so many darn people like it, then surely I'm not doing something right. I got some online assistance and slowly started to understand how the heck to play it.

Day three was actually fun: Finally, after trying for hours, I was starting to have fun. I could progress, I didn't keep getting my ass handed back to me, I dared to explore and got a better taste of the story. Beating harder mobs/bosses felt really good.

From here on in, the game has been rather enjoyable, but I have hit the "grind wall" now where I need to grind for level boosts, food materials, and other items to upgrade weapons and artifacts, and to ascend characters and weapons so they can gain higher levels. My "main-ish" team is now all in the level 33 brackets and my Adventurer rank/level is 22, so I've been doing okay, I guess xD

I'm still not that great at switching out party members to create elemental chain reactions or what-have-you for good damage; I'm not used to this kind of playstyle, especially this fast-paced, but I'm trying. I usually just go into fights with Xiangling and wreck things (most of the time). Takes a bit longer than it should but it works.

I think the game is pretty alright. I didn't have a high opinion of it before, but that was mostly because my own experience with it was pretty shit. It has a nice story, pretty graphics and a wonderful soundtrack. I like to explore and glide, I think those are my favorite parts of the game, and I do smile when I'm interacting with other characters.

Things I still don't like very much are:

The English voice acting. Some of the voices are pretty grating to listen to, while others sound very forced (aka not genuine or natural). Hopefully this is just throughout the "beginning" of the game and people ease into it better later on. I am considering downloading the Japanese voice-acting pack though.

Being forced to stick with the gender of the Traveler you picked at the very start and being unable to customize their appearance. I'm not going to make a whole new account just to switch gender for aesthetic reasons. Still sucks that this isn't something that can be changed, at all.

Adventurer level hurdles. I hate you... Just let me progress through the story, don't make me wait and grind.

Ice. The Ice element is my worst enemy and the mountain area can fek right off.

Can I have some more dudes on my team? Thanks.

I will say that the urge to make a Genshin OC is there but I feel like I don't have a good enough grasp on the game, the setting and the story yet to justify it. We'll see.

[bt5bby]

Hello 👋🏻

I have finally finished uni for the year, so I will hopefully be a little more active now!

I wanted to celebrate with a new story, this one is about Jimin. It’s probably one of the first stories I wrote so I hope it’s okay, it might be a bit outdated.

Either way, this is Not in the Living Room!

Warning ⚠️

Tags - Pregnant Jimin, Mpreg, Magical pregnancy, Magical dildo, Child birth (pretty graphic), Masturbation

————————————————————————

Jimin knew it was risky doing it in the middle of the living room. He knew that he shouldn't, but the air conditioner in his room was fried, and it was the middle of summer. He was already deprived by trying to do it in his room many times and failing because he started to get heat stroke. So now he had no other option, not to mention he was sure the members would be out of the dorm for another 2 hours at least. He did take some precautions, though, locking the door and putting a little bell he had on the handle so that he would know when someone was trying to open it. He also put a spread-out blanket on the top of the couch, so he could flick it on himself whenever needed, just in case he didn't have enough time to run to his room. He grabbed the tv remote and turned it on but muted it as one last precaution. He felt like he could never be too careful.

Honestly, he wouldn't have been so embarrassed if one of the members had walked in if he wasn't the only gay guy in the group. As much as they accepted Jimin for who he was, it still made things slightly weird. He had been accused more than once of staring at one of them, and even though there were no hard feelings, he still felt like they were judging him, not to mention all the times he was checking them out. He couldn't be blamed, they were seven attractive boys all living together, and none of them was able to date. It was hard, but Jimin managed to find his fill of love with his members. It still made it uncomfortable, not just for them, who would have to walk in on Jimin fucking himself with a dildo while he imagined it was them. It also made Jimin uncomfortable. He didn't want his secret outed, not to mention if they caught him, they might stop hanging out with him so much, and that would break his heart.

He pushed away his anxieties about getting caught and pulled out a brown box, unopened. Usually, Jimin could go a few days or even a week without using his dildo to get him off. He had the willpower, but this was a brand-new toy. He ordered it online when he read raving reviews about it. He didn't read the reviews, but it had 5 stars, so he knew it must be good. He pulled it out of the box, quickly moving to the sink and pouring hot water all over it. Just because he likes things up the butt doesn't mean he doesn't care about hygiene, especially when it comes to sticking things inside his holes. He also found with his other dildos that when he did, it made them warm, which made them feel more natural. He gave it a good clean before he skipped back to the couch, grabbing his other box and pulling out the lube he had. He opted for his non-scented one today cause god forbid, one of the members somehow managed to recognise the scent.

He placed both on the towel he had laid on the couch; for respect, nobody wants to sit on a sofa that someone had cum all over, moving to start undressing. He folded his clothes neatly and placed them on the couch's armrest, using them as a pillow. He smiled happily, excited to finally get some much-needed release. He popped open the lid of the lube and squirted a few drops on his hand. He rubbed them into his fingers and then kneeled, bending himself forward, resting on one arm while the other bent back, moving to his tight rim. He furrowed his brow as he slipped his little finger in, happy that he had decided to cut his fingernails just two days before. The small intrusion didn't hurt at all, but it worked well to ease the tightness of his ring. Jimin was amazed that he was still so tight, though he supposed he had had more than a week to close back up.

Working his way up to two fingers, Jimin slowly started to feel the relaxation washing over him. It was always his favourite feeling. Sure the pleasure he got from cumming was terrific, but the feeling of being stretched out properly, how he could fool his brain into thinking it was Yoongi's hands, or Jin's or any of the others. That they loved him and being so gentle and caring. The way his whole body felt relaxed just topped all other feelings. He moaned softly as he worked his third finger in. He had bought the dildo at a slightly more considerable girth than he was used to, so he had to stretch himself more than usual. The sting was welcomed, though, because he was positive this would be great. So many people who bought it loved it, so why wouldn't he?

Once Jimin was stretching himself, he leaned down and collected the dildo. He was slightly disappointed that it had cooled down, but it didn't matter. He would enjoy it nonetheless. He squeezed more lube onto the toy, lathering it up to make the slide easy. He wasn't one for pain. He didn't mind a bit, but he wasn't a masochist. He liked to make things easy for himself. He was looking for pleasure and found it best when he was calm and relaxed. He took a deep breath, quickly grabbed a sip of water he had put on the side table next to his head and then began.

His moan was loud as he pushed the tip of the dildo in. He took a shaky breath and pushed a little more in. He was surprised that even when he stretched himself with three fingers, it still stung a bit. This was bigger than anything he had ever taken. He breathed through the pushing he did, working the big dick into him slowly. He stopped every few seconds just to adjust to the feeling. Jimin didn't know how long he had been working the thing into him, but finally, he was finished. The item was sunk in down to the hilt. He left it again to ensure he was fully ready to start. He wriggled his hips, trying to grind on it a little to work it in and help the stretch. He felt it prod his prostate and shivered, and a low moan left his mouth.

Jimin smiled at himself and decided to turn himself around, moving to lay on his back with his legs in the air. He rested his feet on the opposite armrest that his head was at and then moved the clothes under his head to keep him in a crunch position. He leaned forward and gripped the base of the dildo, pulling on it, getting the tip to sit right at his rim and then pushed it back in again. The lewd moan left his mouth and echoed through the empty apartment, filling only Jimin's ears. He found it even better with the echo he got in the immense living room space. Once it bounced off a wall or two and made it back to him, he could almost convince himself it was someone else. "Nah..." he gasped as he sped up a little. He was lost but not enough to remember whose turn it was to fantasise about today. He had started using a mental list to decide who he would think about each time he fucked himself. Some days though, he got a bit greedy. "Yes, Hyung! Ah, Hobi." He moaned, the spare hand lifting to rub his nipples. He squeaked when his fingers punched a little making the sensitive nubs harden. "Oh, Joonie, right there." He whined.

He worked the dildo in faster, gaining speed with every few thrusts. He had to keep his breathing steady to not fall over the edge so quickly. He wanted this one round to last him. He didn't need to have 20 orgasms. He only needed one perfect high that would wash over him like the floodgates had opened, and he found the best way to do that was to make himself wait. He thought he was odd, making himself work for the orgasm, but it gave him the best pleasure. He held his breath with each thrust in and then let it out very slowly as he pulled it out. His speed was now twice what it was before, fucking into himself well. He was starting to understand why the people liked this dildo so much. It felt amazing. Just the right length and width. It had the perfect sculpted veins and ridges in it. Its tip was slightly thicker than the rest, making it massage his whole tunnel as it went through. He pushed down the next orgasm, holding it again. This time he started to grind down on the dildo that he drove into himself. An odd tingling feeling floated through his body, arousing him even more.

Jimin couldn't stop his noises now. He was being loud and knew it, but he couldn't stop. He was too lost in the fantastic feeling. He hadn't felt this good before, not by himself. A buzz was running under his skin, lighting up his nervous system as each little flicker in his body made his pleasure more intense. It was almost hypnotising. He had his eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving with each thrust. He should have been surprised he could thrust into himself so fast. How hadn't his hand cramped up like it usually did? How was his arm not aching from the repetitive movement and strain? He couldn't even hear himself anymore. He was lost. Lost in the fantastic feeling. "Oh, Hyungs!" He screamed.

Unfortunately, he hadn't heard the door to the dorm open. He had been so extra about all the precautions, yet he lost himself in the pleasure that he didn't even notice the six boys standing in the entrance, mouths dropped open as Jimin continued to fuck himself with his dildo. "Holy shit!" Hoseok said, looking at a wildly fucked out Jimin. The six boys all looked at each other, bright red tinted on their cheeks. Jimin filled their ears with yet another loud moan, and suddenly, they were palming themselves in their pants. Straight or not, the inappropriate noises coming from the small boy sent all their dicks hard in an instant.

The first person to move around to Jimin was, of course, Taehyung. Staring down at his best friend, watching him fuck himself with a dildo, just seemed to make him feel even hotter. And as if the one person was an invite to the rest, the others moved forward so that now they were looking at Jimin in front, yet the boy still hadn't noticed them. It wasn't until Yoongi reached down with his spare hand to grab Jimins, pushing the dildo into him. The small boy's eyes shot open, looking mortified for no more than a second before he glazed over again, closing his eyes and going back to moaning without hesitation. "Fuck Min, look at you take that thing," Hoseok grunted, fist clenching around his member with each thrust he saw of the dildo. There was no response from the small boy except another loud moan and a squelch as Yoongi helped him push the dildo in and out.

"Ah, yes! Joonie!" Jimin squealed. Did Yoongi feel a bit offended? Yes. But did that matter right now? No. He wanted to see the supposedly straight leader fucking their dongsaeng with a big dildo. He made no fuss in stepping out of the way when Namjoon was pushed to his place by Hoseok. Namjoon looked down at the squirming Jimin, seeing just how keen he was for more stimulation. He reached forward and immediately started to work the dildo in and out of Jimin again. "You like that, Min?" He called with a smirk on his face. The boy below him screamed in pleasure at the sudden movement again. Namjoon kept moving it in and out, just as Yoongi had before him, while he rubbed his cock. Dicks were out instantly, and all six jerked off at seeing the petite dancer being fucked by the dildo.

"I-I..." Jimin started to stutter. It was so close, but he wanted to hold it off for as long as possible. He had to. The tingling feeling seemed to intensify with each thrust, the epicentre of the feeling bubbling in his tummy. "Oh! Oh, I-I thin...think! Ah!" Jimin cried out, so close. His dick bounced against the base of his stomach, rock hard and leaking pre-cum on his abs. Jimin felt the tingling getting more and more intense. His whole body started to shake the closer he got to his release. His mind was blank. He wasn't even aware of anything that was going on. He had opened his eyes before, but he barely saw anything. His fucked out brain telling him that the members around him were just his imagination. He rolled his hips harder onto the dildo, pushing it right up into him.

"So good." Taehyung moaned as he pumped his dick along with the rhythm of Jimin's thrusting. All six were following the beat, imagining themselves in the tight hole, the warmth of their hands acting like the heat of another body. They weren't particularly all imagining it being Jimin, but just a nice tight hole to thrust into. "Go on, Min, cum for us." Namjoon smiled, thumbing the tip of his dick too. Jimin's body quivered underneath the leader's watch, feeling the last few thrusts hitting the perfect spot. "Ah!" He screamed.

Jimin arched his back, his orgasm exploding into him just as all the others cum harshly into their hands. Jimin came with a scream, and for a second, they were all content with the scene that just took place. Everyone was lost in the split second of bliss until the screaming didn't stop, and everyone's hands weren't covered in cum like they usually would be. The few who weren't near Jimin frowned, not yet paying attention to the boy to look down and see that their orgasms had primarily been dry except for the little spurt that dribbled out at the end. The ones that were around Jimin looked down at the boy to see why he was still screaming.

Jimin's eyes had shot open when he felt his orgasm hit, but not because of the pleasure. A sudden sharp pain sparked in his tummy, right where the tingling was the worst. His hands rushed to the painful spot, trying to massage it, only to find that his stomach was growing bigger?! Jimin's breath caught in his throat, and his head snapped to look at his body immediately. All the haziness from before was gone; he was in clear mind now and horrified. "What the fuck?!" Yoongi exclaimed when he, too, saw the boy's stomach starting to distend. Jimin was panting hard, freaking out completely. "What is happening to me?" Jimin cried. Pain shot through his body with each second that passed, and he couldn't keep the laboured groans in.

All the others looked down at the small boy who was quickly filling out. "Jimin, what is this?" Jin asked, already having tucked his dick away. He was proper and polite, not to mention a bit reserved. Jin had finished. He didn't need others looking at his dick. Jimin's mind raced as he continued to feel his moderate swell, splitting his fingers apart as the skin grew under them. "I-I don't know!" Jimin cried. "H-help me, please." He begged, not taking his eyes off his middle once. No one knew what to do. Everyone had stood back away from the boy as they saw him start to grow. Jimin felt a weird gushing in him, filling his abdomen and assumed it must be the dildo. "Please take it out!" He begged.

Nobody moved for a moment, unsure what to do until he cried out again in pain. Taehyung rushed behind Jimin, lifting his top slightly so he could rest his best friend on him. They wrapped Jimin in a warm embrace, trying to comfort him while the others worked on his below. "Please, hurry." Jimin's voice was urgent and filled with fear and pain. He was horrified at how much he had grown in just a few minutes. It hurt too. He felt his muscles being pulled apart, his skin stretching. In the new position, Jimin could see his swelling belly, but also just past that. With his legs up like they were, he looked like a pregnant mother in a labouring position. He watched as the five other members fumbled over each other, not yet acting as if they were too scared. Jimin felt another twitch from deep inside him as something hard seemed to be moving. "Get it out now!" Jimin screamed, suddenly making everyone flinch.

Yoongi shoved Namjoon out of the way, leaning down to grab onto the base of the dildo sticking out of Jimin's ass. He meant to rip it right out of Jimin, but the minute he touched it, it heated up, burning his hand. "Ouch!" He yelped and jumped back. "What?" Jimin asked as he tried to look over his ever-growing middle. "It's hot." Yoongi gasped, shaking his hand. Jimin felt something hard in his stomach, almost a weird sense of movement. "There's something in me!" He screeched, freaking everyone out. "What?" They all yelled. "Get it out!" He cried, but Yoongi knew it was no good. Jimin's belly rapidly grew, beginning to tower over his body as he just cried and moaned. Looking at the giant orb, Jin could swear he did see something moving in it. "Make it stop!" Jimin wailed.

It was only a few more seconds before the growing stopped, leaving him with a giant belly, looking to be carrying triplets. He let out a wail as he felt the dildo start to push itself out of him. He couldn't see over his middle, but the others standing by his lower half could see the thing slowly moving out of him. "What is it doing?" Jungkook asked, looking at the thing with wide eyes. It rolled down inch by inch in Jimin, feeling like it was scraping his walls. Jimin continued to whine at the feeling of slowly being forced back out of him. "What is it doing?" Hoseok repeated Maknae's question, but still, no one had an explanation for it. Taehyung continued to pat Jimin's damp hair as he whined and panted until it fell out eventually and landed on the couch. The older boys looked at the odd-looking dildo, and then right before their eyes, it seemed to vanish.

Jimin let out a sob of relief once it was out, but it was short-lived because nothing could go Jimin's way today. The second it left him, a sharp pain pierced his middle, making the small boy scream louder. Everyone looked up to Jimin just in time to see a gush of liquid exit his body from his stretched hole. "What now?" Hoseok asked, looking down at Jimin, but he was in no position to reply. The sharp pain squeezed his insides hard, making his whole body tense. "No way!" Namjoon gasped nervously. "It's coming out!" Jimin screamed, holding his big belly. The others all looked at him, eyes so wide they might drop out of their heads. "What?" Jungkook paled. "He's in labour," Namjoon answered. Jimin contracted again, squeezing his eyes shut and crying hard.

His sobs filled the room, breaths shallow and ragged. His chest felt like it was on fire with all his emotions. Panic set deep in his body as he felt more pain clench the muscles in his stomach. Jimin didn't know when, but at some point, his ears started to block out the sound of everyone. All he could focus on was the pain he was feeling and trying to figure out what was happening. "Jimin!" Someone yelled, finally pulling him back to reality. "You need to control your breathing," Jin said, crouched down near him. Jimin looked at the eldest with wide eyes. He wasn't sure if he could control his breathing. Everything seemed so out of his control that he couldn't do anything. Another scream left his mouth, and he felt a strong urge to push this time. His body forced him to bare down and push hard, feeling like he was having a big shit.

"Are you pushing?" Yoongi asked, looking at the boy's strained face. Jimin continued for another few seconds and then let out a big shaky breath. "You're ready already?" Hoseok gasped, looking at Jimin. The small boy whimpered with a nod, trying to catch his breath before the next contraction. Jimin wailed again at the tightness in his belly. He pushed hard again, his whole body telling him to. "Shit, ok. We need to prepare for this." Namjoon said, panicking. "How can he be pushing already?" Taehyung asked, looking up. "How can he be pregnant at all, Tae? This isn't a normal situation." Namjoon rolled his eyes. Jimin finally got a reprieve from pushing again and hung his head back on his shoulders.

Jin looked at the pregnant boy, watching Jimin struggle to breathe after the second push round. "You're doing so good, Jimin." He said encouragingly. Jimin looked at Jin with a terrified face. "Hyung..." He whimpered. Jin shook his head, telling him not to talk. "Save your energy." Jimin's face scrunched up again as the next one came, and he had to push. He let out a loud cry that time, feeling something shift in him. "We need to help him," Jin called to the others. Immediately Hoseok grabbed the other hand that Jin wasn't holding, helping to calm him. "I don't want to do this." Jimin cried, looking at his friends. They all looked at him with sympathy. "We know, Jimin, but you have to." Hoseok smiled, trying to comfort him. "H-how has this even happened?" Jimin gasped as he felt the next contraction. He bore down hard again, feeling his insides start to open up. "A-am I being punished?" He asked with a loud sob after he finished the next push. "No way, Minnie." Everyone reassured him. "This isn't because of you. Something must have happened with that dildo." Jimin wanted to respond to the eldest rapper, but the next contraction came again.

God, he was surprised that they were so close together. He felt like he couldn't catch his breath. "Get it out!" He screamed as he pushed hard, the top of the thing in him sitting just at his entrance. "It looks like a human head so far." Namjoon described. The leader rushed to the linen cupboard and grabbed a towel for the tiny child. The contraction ended again, and Jimin gasped for air. "I can't!" He cried. "I can't do it." Taehyung shook his head, leaning forward to pull Jimin into a hug. "You can, Minnie. You have to push this baby out." They tried to motivate him, looking to the others so they could. "You're doing well, Jimin. Just a little more, and the baby will be born." Yoongi added.

Namjoon returned with two towels and laid one down under Jimin to soak up the blood he knew was pouring out of him. The towel Jimin had been lying on was already wet with amniotic fluid. The other towel he gave to Jungkook and asked him to stay close to help with the baby. The next contraction hurt much more than the others, and Jimin screamed. His whole body seemed to be pushing without his help, wanting nothing more than to expel the creature in him. "So good, Minnie, the baby is crowning." Namjoon smiled. Jimin fell back against Taehyung once he finished, seeming to be his routine.

Jimin was so engrossed in his birthing for the whole time he was pushing, trying his very hardest to get the baby out, but in the small moments, he found his mind wandering back to the bigger picture. He wept, rolling his head on his shoulders as he tried to breathe through the pain that lingered even after the contraction finished. However, with each contraction, the downtime was getting shorter and shorter. Jimin couldn't see over his gigantic belly, but he could feel his hole stretched beyond belief as the baby's head sat half in, half out.

"One more push, and the baby's head is out," Yoongi told him, looking down at his hole. Jin raised a hand and brushed the sweat-stuck hair back. "You're doing so good, Jimin. Just a little more." He cheered, giving the small boy a bright smile, hoping it would make him feel better. The next contraction came, which was the most painful Jimin had supposed. His hole felt like it was on fire and he swore he felt his skin rip, but he felt such relief when Namjoon told him the head was out. "P-please..." Jimin whispered, not feeling the energy to talk any louder. "Please, what, Min?" Hoseok asked, pulling his hand closer. "I want it to stop." Jimin sniffled, a slight hiccup cutting his words up. "It will be over soon. Just push the shoulders out, and then you're done," Namjoon said, hiding behind the bump of Jimin's belly. "Two pushes, and it will be done." Yoongi smiled.

Jimin gave him a shaky nod and then pushed hard again, finding a new motivation. He bore down hard, nearly feeling his ears pop with the pressure he was feeling throughout his body. "Yes, Min, just like that." Jimin felt the shoulders move; once again, the burn was tremendous as he was stretched wider than the head. He screamed in pain, holding Jin and Hoseok's hands tightly. Taehyung petted his head and hugged him softly, encouraging him, while Yoongi and Jungkook helped Namjoon below. "Kook, get the towel ready. It's nearly done," Namjoon called. Yoongi got up and rushed into the kitchen to get some scissors and a few clips they kept for bags to seal off the umbilical cord.

Jimin wailed with one last push, the baby sliding out of his body. He sobbed a little harder, thankful that it was over, laying his head back onto Taehyung while he kissed all over his face. "You did it, baby." He smiled. Hoseok and Jin patted him all over and told him little praises. Jimin smiled, happy that the whole predicament was finally over. He gave in to the hugs, kisses and compliments, feeling so much love, even though humiliation burned underneath it.

Namjoon grabbed the baby and quickly moved it to the towel Jungkook was holding, ready for Yoongi to step in when they realised that the baby had no umbilical cord. The three boys stayed silent for a moment, looking at the little thing in Jungkook's hands. "Do you think it came off inside him?" Yoongi asked, looking down at Jimin. Namjoon shrugged, unsure of what to think. Jungkook wiped the baby's face clean, getting a good look at it when they noticed something. "Ahh, guys?" He called, and everyone stopped to look at him. "What?" Jin asked. Jungkook's wide eyes looked up from the baby to Jimin and then just past him. "I-it looks like Taehyung," Jungkook said, unbelievably. The two 95's looked at the youngest with stunned expressions. "What?" Tae asked. "How is that possible?" Everyone knew that he wasn't looking for an answer because there was no explanation for anything happening right now.

Jimin would have been completely freaked out that the baby he had just given birth to looked like his best friend if it wasn't for the pain that continued to push his insides. He had a short break once the first baby was born, but a sharp pain took the peace away. He closed his eyes and squeezed Jin and Hoseok's hands, pushing again. A loud wail brought the others back to him. "What is it?" Taehyung asked as he looked down. "No, no, no, no, no." Jimin chanted in fear as his body pushed against another hard thing. He looked at the others helplessly, pleading with his eyes for them to help him. "What is going on?" Taehyung yelled when no one answered. "There's another baby." Namjoon frowned after instructing Jungkook to get another towel. Jimin huffed and puffed through the contraction, falling back when it finished. "I don't want another." Jimin wailed. "I can't do it anymore." He begged them to make it stop, but no one knew what to do for him.

"I know this is hard for you, Min, but you can't stop now. You have to get this baby out of your body." Namjoon said softly, trying to encourage Jimin. "This isn't fair!" Jimin screeched. "We know it's not fair, Minnie, but it has to be done. We can figure all this out once the baby is out." Jin moved his spare hand to wipe the tears on Jimin's cheeks. Jimin turned to look at the eldest, making his heart wrench by his expression. Jimin opened his mouth to speak, but the next contraction hit, and he let out a cry of pain instead. "Push through it," Yoongi yelled. "I want it out of me!" Jimin screamed, pushing hard.

Jungkook returned with another two towels just in case he saw the baby's head poke out faster than last time. "Good job, Jimin. The baby's head is out." Namjoon announced. The boy fell back against Tae, who resumed kissing his face. "It's not me." Jimin whimpered through his breaths. Taehyung stopped to listen to the boy. "These babies are forcing their way out." He huffed. "But you're pushing them so well." Tae smiled, but Jimin only shook his head. "I can barely push anymore." Jimin looked up at Taehyung behind him, his eyes filled with fear. "They are coming out by themselves as the dildo did." Taehyung frowned, wondering what this meant, but again, nothing lasted as Jimin resumed crying through another contraction.

The second baby exited Jimin on the next push, sending relief through him and all the others. "His belly hasn't gone down?" Jungkook observed, looking at the giant orb that was Jimin's middle. Everyone looked at it, seeing the bright red skin still stretched tight. "You don't think there's more?!" Jimin asked, but he answered his question with another, much faster, contraction. "No!" He screamed, pushing hard again. "No more, no more." He repeated. His hands let go of Jin and Hoseok's, and he started to sit up, thinking that maybe he could just walk away. "Stop, Jimin," Jin warned, reaching back up to grab his hand and pull him back down. "I can't! I don't want any more." He wailed. "I want them out of me!" The boys held him tighter, trying to comfort him. "Just a little more, and it will hopefully be done. You're being so strong, Jimin." Hoseok praised, but the boy didn't care.

Namjoon had moved the second baby to Jungkook, who looked down at it like the first one. "Shit! This one looks like Jin Hyung." Jungkook said, looking up to the eldest. Jin froze for a moment wanting to go see for himself, but Jimin needed his help more. "S-so, we are all gonna have a baby that looks like us?" Hoseok asked. Nobody could answer until Jungkook gasped. "The cum!" He said, grabbing everyone's attention. "Cum?" Namjoon questioned, kneeling back down to Jimin's height. "We all came, right? Seeing Jimin Hyung fuck himself with the dildo. When we came, our cum disappeared. What if, by some magic, it went into Jimin, and that's why the babies look like us?" It sounded ridiculous to all of them, even Jungkook, but nothing that had happened so far had been logical.

"It actually would explain a few things." Hoseok shrugged, looking up at Namjoon. The leader frowned, unsure what to think of it, but thankfully he didn't have to ponder as long as Jimin was screeching again, yelling at them to get the babies out, and he no longer needed to answer the question. "Oh god!" Jimin gasped as he felt the baby start to crown. "It's ok. Breathe through it," Namjoon said, stroking Jimin's thigh as the baby pressed hard against his rim. The contraction stopped just as the baby's head spread Jimin open, making it halt. He whimpered at the pain, feeling like he was tearing up again. "I-I think I'm gonna pass out." He said softly, his eyes slowly closing. His mind was fuzzy, and his eyes couldn't focus on anyone.

Jin raised a hand to Jimin's face holding it tight. "Hey, Min we need you to stay awake." He said, tapping on the small boy's cheek. Jimin lazily turned his head to the eldest, but his eyes weren't open. His head rolled around for a moment until the boy fell limp. "Shit, Jimin!" Yoongi called, trying to wake him up too. "He needs to push the baby out." Namjoon panicked, unsure of what to do. "Please wake up," Taehyung begged the small boy, worried for his best friend. Another contraction crushed Jimin's body, tightening his muscles and the baby pushed out more. Namjoon watched in amazement as the baby's head finally pushed out. "H-how is that possible? He's pushing while unconscious?" Namjoon asked, looking up at the others. Taehyung shook his head, recalling what Jimin had said earlier. "No, no, he said. He didn't even need to push anymore. His body was doing it for him as the dildo did before." Everyone looked at each other now understanding.

"This baby seems to be coming out easier," Namjoon said as the next contraction pushed the baby out completely. He picked it up and saw a little Jungkook looking at him. "This one must be yours," Namjoon said, handing it to the youngest. Jungkook felt nervous grabbing the baby this time. He held it more softly, being extra careful, and when he looked down, he felt like he was looking at baby him. It was almost uncanny. The Maknae was only drawn away when Namjoon told him another was coming, and he had rerun out of towels. He put the baby next to the others on the floor, away from everyone and rushed for more towels, grabbing several more now as he didn't know how many they would need.

"He looks like he's still in pain," Taehyung said with a frown, looking at the scrunched-up face Jimin was pulling. "Well, you push several babies out your ass and see how you feel?" Yoongi quipped at the younger's stupid thought but earned a smack from the leader. "How is this even possible? Where are the babies coming from in him? He has no womb." Hoseok asked. "None of the babies have umbilical cords. I think that whatever did this simply inserted the babies in him, and now he's pushing them out." Namjoon explained as he started to help birth the next baby.

Jimin's body constricted and squeezed again. Namjoon was surprised that these babies were pretty much one after the other. No rest in between. The next one looked like Hoseok, landing right in Namjoon's arms. "So he only has two more?" Yoongi asked. Namjoon nodded, moving back to the boy's hole. "He will be ok, right?" Taehyung asked, brushing the hair out of Jimin's face again. "I don't know. This would have ruined his hole." Jin sighed. "His skin is covered in stretch marks." The eldest moved his hand to the boy's tummy, which still wasn't any smaller, though no one mentioned it. "His body won't be the same."

Taehyung frowned, looking down at the small boy, feeling bad for him. They all knew that Jimin hadn't wanted this. He must have been tricked or something. He was too naive sometimes. "Wow," Namjoon said, holding up the next baby. "It's weird to look at yourself." He mumbled. This baby was slightly bigger than the others. Going to grow into a tall boy, just like the leader. "So, just Yoongi is next?" Jungkook said, placing the baby Namjoon with the others.

A soft groan was heard from Jimin as he started to move his fingers. His eyes moved under his lids for a moment until they fluttered open. He seemed a bit dazed and unsure of what was happening. The boy almost wished he could have stayed asleep because it would have been easier for him. "W-what- ah." He gasped, not even getting out the whole question. "This is the last one, Min. You did so well." Namjoon said. Jimin was almost pulled back into his hysterics, finally returning to the situation. "Hey, just relax. You don't even have to push. Just focus on Jin, Hobi and Tae." Yoongi said, rubbing his leg. Jimin whimpered but nodded. Looking to the others around him.

Jimin felt the next contraction and couldn't stop the urge to push. He felt like he had to help get it out. He squeezed Jin and Hoseok's hands again, trying his hardest. "Ok, it's nearly there," Namjoon said, holding the head of little Yoongi until the next contraction and Jimin could push him out all the way. "You've done so well Jimin. You don't know how proud of you we are." Jin smiled. Jimin held his breath and bore down, pushing the shoulders out finally.

"Done!" Namjoon announced, picking up the tiny baby and giving it to Jungkook. Jimin knew, though. He knew this wasn't it because he still felt something inside him. He tried this time to be quiet. He didn't want to make any more panic, but his mind was freaking out. What if he was to continue to give birth forever now? When would this end? "J-Joonie," Jimin whined. Namjoon turned to him with a furrowed brow. Jimin squeezed tightly and pushed, making it quick. "Another?!" Everyone yelled. Namjoon moved to the boy's legs, but by that time, Jimin had finished. The last babysat between his legs, looking up at the leader.

Namjoon sighed in relief when he saw it. He chuckled and picked it up. "Of course. How silly of me." He said with a smile. "You came to Minnie." He said, turning to the baby that looked just like the boy. Jimin cooed, seeing his little face. "You did it, Min. You gave birth to seven babies." Taehyung said, amazed. Jimin sighed in relief. For the first time in what felt like hours, he had nothing pushing at his insides. His stomach was still the same size as before he gave birth, but it was empty, and he felt much lighter.

The seven babies were lined up on the floor by Jungkook. He whipped his phone out and took a picture, amazed by all the little creatures. "What do we do with them now?" Yoongi asked. As if on command, the seven babies vanished, just like the dildo. A gasp was heard from the Maknae, and he looked up. "What is it?" Jin asked. "They're gone." He said. Everyone looked down at the seven empty towels lying on the floor. "Well, I suppose we couldn't take care of them now, could we?" Hoseok sighed. It remained quiet for a while, everyone thinking about everything that had just happened.

Jimin gasped. The sound of water rushing filled his ears again, but suddenly, his tummy started to deflate. His hands sunk with each second, and he groaned, feeling his muscles move back into place. It shrunk just as quickly as it swelled, and after minutes Jimin's stomach was back to being as flat as it was before everything happened. He contorted his lithe body, thankful he was back to normal, and looked at his tummy, inspecting for even a single stretch mark.

"It's back to normal." He said, a slight tone of hope in his voice. He briefly wondered if this was a dream, or maybe someone or something taunting him more, letting him go back to normal, just to have it done again.

All the boys around Jimin smiled, happy to see their friend return to his old self. Jimin quickly shot up off the couch, so glad he could move again, not being pinned to the sofa by a giant belly. He ran his hands all over his bare tummy, inspecting still. "Thank god that's over." Yoongi sighed, flopping down in the armchair off to the side. Everyone mumbled in agreement, nodding their heads.

Jimin looked up at them with a straight face. His thoughts about how they had all just seen him so exposed and vulnerable. "Let's forget this ever happened." He said quickly in the silence left by everyone. The boys all looked at him with confused eyes. "What?" Tae asked. "I want you all to erase this from your memory. Nothing happened today." Jimin urged. "We will never speak about it again, and we don't need to tell anyone."

The six boys all gave each other a look, discussing it mentally, and after a moment, they turned back to the small boy. "Ok, Jimin, if that's what you want," Namjoon said, giving him a soft smile. Jimin felt the sting of humiliation still in his chest, but he nodded. "It's what I want. Don't talk about it. I..." he looked at each of them. "I-I'm going to my room now." He said very quickly and almost ran away, forgetting everything on the couch and his clothes.

The six sighed and leaned back. If Jimin wanted them to forget, they would. They would let everything go back to normal and continue living like they had never seen anything, but when they needed a little something, each and every one of them would remember. Only when they couldn't get off to whatever they had seen so many times before Jimin's beautiful face would pop up.

And it wasn't long until one of them gave in to temptation, logging onto Jimin's computer and going through the history, searching for the website. Unsure how Jimin had stumbled upon it, he read the descriptions and decided the next time they all wanted to get off, they might get Jimin to use a different dildo...

[fridaythe13ththeseries]

Reflecting - Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Having left the Mercedes at the edge of the small forest, the foursome made their way through the brush and bramble. The estate they were heading to had only one road of access, the remainder was bordered by these woods and a small pond. The owner obviously enjoyed his privacy.

Jack and Rashid had been successful with their locator spell this time. They had found where Ryan was being held, and they hoped his mother was with him. The group had debated over how to proceed, finally deciding on a simple plan: Get inside, find Ryan and Mrs. Dallion, and get them out. Of course, it wasn’t really simple at all. And, if experience taught them anything, it was going to be dangerous, as well.

If possible, they also wanted to find the manifest, too. That book was vital to them. Lastly, if they were really lucky, they hoped to find the mirror Ryan’s captor had mentioned. They assumed it had to be one of Lewis’ cursed items.

They had waited until it was dark, wanting any advantage they could get on this rescue mission. Having hiked for close to an hour now, they finally stopped at the place where the woods ended and the large grounds of the mansion began.

Micki stepped close to Jack. “What now?” she asked. Like the rest of her group, she had dressed in black. She also wore a black baseball cap to cover most of her red hair, the rest tied in a ponytail down her back.

Jack pointed at the large brick house before them. Random lights lit up parts of the grounds, as well as a few of the windows in the building. Someone was obviously still awake and about inside, but they had not seen anyone walking the yard.

“Should we go together, or split up?” Johnny asked, eager to get inside and get this over with.

Jack looked around some more before speaking. “I think we should get inside together, just in case we come up against some guard. Or guards. Once we’re safely inside, we can split up and cover more ground. Let’s go, slowly, to that door there.” He was pointing now at set of French doors that led from an outdoor patio to some room inside the house that was dark and hopefully unoccupied.

Weaving across the yard, stopping briefly behind bushes and keeping to the shadows, the group made their way forward. When they were all gathered on the brick patio, flat against the wall, Jack used his lock-picking skills to quickly get the glass doors open. He paused, listening for an alarm announcing their intrusion. When no sounds came, they entered the room and closed the doors behind them.

Johnny turned on his flashlight at the same time Rashid turned on his. They both swung the beams over the room, revealing a good size den or library. Scanning the space, they saw it was filled with hundreds of books lining several shelves, various pieces of art and a few large paintings. The center of the room featured four overstuffed sofas in a square formation, making for a comfortable conversation area. If their mission wasn’t so dangerous, and the place so creepy, Micki would have called it cozy.

Jack walked over to the double doors on the wall opposite the one they had entered. He stood with his ear against the wood, listening. Micki, Johnny and Rashid came up close to him, waiting for the next step. For a few minutes, the only sound to be heard was their breathing.

Jack slowly opened the door and peered outside the room. He brought his head back in and shut the door slowly.

“Okay, this room leads to a long hallway. We should split up here. Rashid and Johnny can go one way, Micki and I will go the other. Walk slowly and keep your ears and eyes open. We have no idea how many people this Raphael Casares has working here. So, be careful and be quiet. If you find Ryan and his mother, get them and get out, don’t wait for the rest of us.”

Johnny was about to protest this, but Micki placed her hand on his arm.

“Jack’s right, Johnny.” she said. “Their safety has to be the priority.”

Johnny nodded and Micki let go of him. Jack opened the door again slowly and peered out.

“One hour.” he whispered, looking back at the group. “If you haven’t found anything by then, meet back here, or just get back to the woods and to the car.”

Rashid and Johnny nodded, and Jack stepped forward, Micki right behind him. They walked to the right, down the dimly lit hallway. Johnny and Rashid came out behind them and proceeded to the left, soon disappearing around a corner.

Micki and Jack walked slowly down the hall, stopping to listen at each door as they proceeded, peeking in the ones that opened when they tried the doorknobs. Before too long, they entered a foyer that must be the main entrance, two large wooden doors ahead of them. The room also featured a very grand and winding staircase. As was the rest of the house, this area was dimly lit and deserted.

Jack and Micki ascended the stairs carefully, Jack keeping his eyes forward as Micki kept looking back. The emptiness of the place worked to their advantage, but it also upped the eeriness of the place. Micki felt like eyes were upon them, watching.

The top of the stairs led to a small balcony, and around a corner was another long, dim hallway. Jack peered around this corner and quickly pulled his head back. He raised a finger to his mouth, warning Micki to be quiet. He pointed over his shoulder, and raised one finger to inform her that there was one person in the hallway ahead of them.

Micki shrugged, silently asking what they were going to do now. Jack was at a loss as to how to proceed when the problem resolved itself.

A door somewhere in the hallway ahead opened and a male voice called out “Carlos, come here, please.”

Micki and Jack waited, pressed against the wall at the top of the stairs, ready to run back down if the men approached. They heard footsteps and then a door shut. Jack waited a few moments, then again peered around the corner.

He looked back at Micki. “Come on, let’s move fast.”

They turned the corner and walked quickly down the now-deserted hall. Jack brought them up to the door where the man he had spied had been standing and tried the knob. It was locked. For the second time tonight, he took out his lock picks and went to work.

“Hurry, Jack.” Micki said, her voice low but nervous. She kept her eyes scanning the other doors in the hallway, listening for any movement, any voices.

The moment she heard a click from the door Jack was working on, she heard another sound from another door. “Jack…” she whispered, turning towards him.

Jack opened the door and pushed Micki inside in one quick motion. He stepped in right behind her and closed the door behind him. They both paused, ears pressed against the wooden frame. In the hallway they had just left, they heard two voices, but the words were too muffled to make out. Then there was silence. Still, they waited, expecting the door they were leaning against to burst open at any second.

A small click sounded from somewhere in the room they were in, and instantly the room was filled with light. It took a moment for Mick and Jack to adjust to the sudden brightness. Then a small voice spoke up.

“Micki, is that you?” Ryan said, from across the room.